“Mr. Fielding, you’re right,” said Teach. “Yan, ’tis only agin the chance of our being blowed off. If that’s to happen, ye must have enough to eat till we tarns up agin. But what’s that chance?” cried he, with a stare up aloft and around. “If the fear o’t’s to stop us, good-night to the burying job.”
Bol trudged a little way forward; the men gathered about him and held a debate. I marched aft with my hands in my pockets as though indifferent to the issue of their council, having made up my mind. But for all that it was a time of mortal anxiety with me.
After ten minutes Bol came aft and told me that the crew were agreed the brig should be hove to. There was no anchor at the bow, and precious time would be wasted in making ready the ground tackle. Next, we should have to haul in close to land to find anchorage, and the crew were of my opinion that the brig was a perished thing with such a coast as that close aboard under her lee, should it come on to blow a hard inshore wind.
“Und besides,” he continued, “ve doan take no silver mit us to-day. Our beesiness vhas to oxplore. Ve take provisions und shovels, und der like, vhen ve goes ashore now, und ve begins to dig if ve findts a place dot all vhas agreed vhas a goodt place for hiding der money.”
“Then turn to and get all ready with the boat,” said I; “we shall be in with the land close enough in a few minutes. I want a mile and a half of offing—nothing less—otherwise I go ashore in the boat and you stop here.”
“Hov your way, sir; hov your way,” he rumbled in his deepest voice. “Vhat should I do here? Soopose ve vhas blowned away out of sight of der island; how vhas I to findt her?”
Saying this he left me, and in a few minutes all hands were in motion. I stopped them, in the middle of their labors over the boat, to bring the brig to a stand. We laid the main topsail aback, and since it was now certain that I should not be able to put my scheme into execution that day, I ordered them to reduce the ship to very easy canvas; the mainsail was furled, the forecourse hauled up, the trysail brailed up, and other sails were taken in, one or two furled, and one or two left to hang. The fellows then got the longboat over. They swayed her out by tackles, and when she was afloat and alongside they lowered some casks of beef and pork and some barrels of bread and flour into her. We were handsomely stocked with provisions, and I foresaw the loss of those tierces and barrels without concern.
The señorita came to my side, and we stood together at the rail, looking down into the boat and watching the proceedings of the men. It was a very fine day; the hour about one. The island lay in lofty masses of dark rock within two miles of us, bearing a little to the southward of east. The great heap of land filled the sea that way. The searching light of the sun revealed nothing that stirred. I saw not even a bird; but that might have been because the sea-fowl of the island were too distant for my sight. An awful bit of ocean solitude is Amsterdam Island. The sight of it, the reality of it, makes shallow the bottom of the deepest of your imaginations of loneliness. The roar of the surf, at points where the flash of it was fierce, came along in a note of cannonading. You’d have thought there were troops firing heavy guns t’other side the island.
The men threw the fore-peak shovels into the boat, along with crowbars, carpenter’s tools, and whatever else they could find that was good to dig with. They handed down oars, mast, and sail. I particularly noticed the sail. It was a big, square lug with a tall hoist. The biggest galley-punts in the Downs carry such sails. The fellows lighted their pipes to a man. They grinned and joked and put on holiday looks. It was a jaunt—a fine change—a jolly run ashore for the rogues after our prodigious term of imprisonment. Besides, every man possessed a great fortune; every man might reckon himself up in thousands of dollars! I could not wonder that they grinned and wore a jolly air.
The following men entered the boat: John Wirtz, William Galen, Frank Hals, John Friend, William Street, and lastly, Yan Bol. Hals, as you know, was the cook. They took him, nevertheless—perhaps because he was suspicious, and wished to see for himself where the pit was dug; perhaps because he was an immensely strong man—short, vast of breech, of weight to sink, with his foot, a shovel through granite. And the following men were left behind to help me to control the brig: James Meehan, Isaac Travers, Henry Call, Jim Vinten, and Thomas Teach.