I knew that my face was of a milky whiteness, my mouth was dry, my breathing laboured. I answered low and tremulously, ‘I am not the wife of the captain.’
Do not believe that I was afraid. I was sick and cold and shivered with the passion I hid. I dared not lift my eyes, lest beholding the dog with his smile and bland looks I should leap to my feet, spit in his face, strike and curse him.
‘You are, perhaps, a passenger, madam?’ said he.
I slightly inclined my head, keeping my eyes fastened upon the island.
‘I understand,’ he continued, ‘that this brig’s destination is Table Bay. It is very fortunate for me that you have called here. Ships’ visits grow scarcer and scarcer, and a man might easily be imprisoned for a whole twelvemonth in yonder wretched but hospitable little colony.’
At this instant Will came up the ladder and stood at the head of the steps, astounded to observe me talking with Rotch.
‘My misfortunes have been overwhelming!’ exclaimed the villain, speaking in a tone that let me know he preserved his courtesy-smile, though I never turned my eyes from the island save when I glanced at Will. ‘My beautiful ship, the Arab Chief, a vessel I was as proud of as a man of his handsome wife, was burned to the water’s edge through two or three scoundrel seamen broaching the cargo with a naked light. Our sufferings in the boat were terrible. We put off with barely a day’s allowance of fresh water and a handful or two of biscuits. The islanders may have told you in what state they found us. My mate Nodder is very ill. He injured himself somehow when leaving the ship. I hope your captain will not be disappointed. He probably counts upon the help of three working men. I shall be very happy to do my share. I am sorry to hear that he is not well. Pray, madam, what is his name? The islanders who were off yesterday did not get it.’
I rose, saying, under my breath, ‘Excuse me. I want to speak to that young gentleman,’ and walked to Will, panting, as though a poisoned arrow had pierced me, with an anguish of emotion I could no longer support.
‘He came and spoke to me,’ I whispered. ‘I must have torn his eyes out had I listened longer.’
I went down the ladder and stood near the wheel. Mr. Bates stepped over from the gangway to tell me that he believed the carpenter Nodder was a dying man. ‘He has only shipped himself for us to bury him,’ said he. ‘He’ll pull no more ropes in this world.’