“I won’t believe it!” he answered, indignantly. “There was, and there must have been, and there shall have been a Robinson Crusoe! How could he have written his life if he had not lived, I should like to know?”
“There was a man called Alexander Selkirk, who was left there from one of Lord Anson’s ships, and a first-rate writer—Daniel Defoe by name—got hold of his account, on which he founded the story of Robinson Crusoe,” I answered.
“I tell you that is all bosh,” said Jerry. “I don’t believe that any man who had not gone through every scene he describes, could have given as good an account of them as does Robinson Crusoe; so I intend to stick to my belief, and not care what anybody else says on the subject.” I must own that I felt very much inclined to agree with Jerry, and to look on Defoe very much in the light of a pirate, who had got hold of a ship which did not belong to him. The important discussion was cut short by the report of the first mate, who had again gone aloft with his glass to take another look at the object seen ahead.
“As far as I can see, I’ve no doubt that it is the hull of a ship floating bottom uppermost,” he sung out; “but whether any one is still clinging to her or not, is more than I can make out.”
“Get one of the boats ready, Mr Brand; we’ll board the wreck, at all events,” said the captain. While the boat was quickly prepared, we made good progress towards the wreck.
“There is a man on her; I can see him clearly,” sung out the third mate from forward. “He is lying along the keel. He is alive; he sees us; he is waving to us.”
As soon as the ship got up to the wreck, she was hove-to, and I followed Mr Brand, with Ben Yool, into the boat. There was still a great deal of sea running; and when we got up to the wreck, there was no little danger, we discovered, in getting alongside her. There were masts and spars still hanging on by the rigging around her, which would at once have stove in our boat if we had got among them incautiously, and we should very likely have lost our own lives. There was only one man on the ship’s bottom; we saw him just lifting his head and watching us anxiously as we pulled round. We could discover no spot free from danger; so we pulled off again to consult what was best to be done. The poor wretch thought we were going to desert him, and shouted out to us in English and Spanish, imploring us to have compassion on him, and save his life.
“Ay, ay, friend!” answered Ben Yool. “Don’t suppose we’d leave you there; we should be rum sort of Christians to do that. Wait a bit; we’ll get you off directly.”
“He appears to be unable to help himself, or he might lower himself down by a rope,” observed Mr Brand. “Make a line fast round me; I think that I could manage to got in just under the quarter, and so haul myself up by some of the ropes I see hanging over it.”
To propose was with Cousin Silas to act, and in another moment he was striking out towards the wreck. Avoiding the main-mast—close to which, with some of its spars, he had to pass—he at length got hold of the quarter without injury. He was soon up alongside the stranger. The man was apparently unable to walk; so Mr Brand supported him as he helped him along the keel, till he reached the after-part; and then, securing a line to him, he beckoned us to pull in, while he lowered both himself and the man into the boat. We quickly pulled back again, before the shattered mast drove towards the hull. From the appearance of the wreck, she did not look as if she would have floated much longer. The stranger was a mulatto—a fine, tall fellow, apparently, but now looking very wretched and weak from loss of blood and want of food. We soon had him on board, dried and put into a clean hammock, under the doctor’s care. His manner at first was rough, and somewhat sullen; but it improved by degrees, and he seemed grateful for the kindness shown to him. He was evidently suffering so much from pain that no one asked him for particulars about the wreck, or how he had been brought into his present position. It was not till the doctor came in to dinner that we began to suspect the truth.