I had the letter in my hand.
“I wanted to get this ready to send on shore, sir,” I answered, holding it up.
“No excuse for leaving your station. Take that!” he cried, as he gave me a blow on the side of the head with his half-clenched fist, which brought me to the deck, and nearly stunned me. When I recovered myself the first person I saw was Dr Cockle, who, looking at me compassionately, said, “Come below, Peter, and I’ll try to put your head to rights, for you seem to be much hurt. How did it happen?”
“I can’t tell you now, sir, for I much want to send this letter off by a shore-boat,” I answered.
As I spoke I observed that the crew were hoisting away and sheeting home the sails. I ran to the side and jumped on to the main chains. The only remaining boat was just shoving off. I shouted to the people in her to come and take my letter; but they did not understand me, or did not care to remain alongside, as the ship was rapidly gathering way; another stroke of their oars and they were at a distance from the ship. I waved and shouted to them to come back, but they did not heed me, and just then I heard the captain calling to me in an angry tone to attend to my duty. I was obliged to obey, expecting another cuff harder than the last; but when he saw me begin to pull and haul with the rest he said no more. Perhaps he observed the blood streaming from my head. The sails were now sheeted home, the yards trimmed, and the Intrepid stood away from the land.
Another opportunity of making my escape was lost.