Chapter Eighteen.
Lord Saint Maur narrates his adventures—Carried off by the Dutchman—Ill-treated—Drunken skipper and mates—Rip Van Winkle and Snarleyow—Ship strike, on a reef—Crew desert her—Saint Maur, Rip, and Snarley get into the long-boat—Ship goes down—Remain under the lee of the reef all night—Make sail in the morning—No water—Virginia Island reached—Boat capsized on the bar—Saint Maur and Rip saved by Snarley—Their life on the island—Water found—Goat’s flesh—The Empress seen approaching the island—Preparations for crossing the bar—Awful suspense—Ship steams on—Strikes with a crash on the bar—More stores landed—The jollies alarmed by a jet of steam—Sails seen in the distance.
“By-the-by, I never told you how I came to be playing Robinson Crusoe and his man Friday on yonder barren rock,” observed Saint Maur, as he and his uncle paced together the deck of the Empress.
“You remember the night I was hooked off the yacht by a stranger which ran us down, and, as I thought, sent you to the bottom. I leave you to judge in what a state of fear and anxiety I was left. From the way the fellows talked when I got on board, I discovered that they were Dutchmen. I rushed aft to the skipper and entreated him to heave to and lower his boats to try and pick up any of you who might be floating, but he either did not understand me or would not. When I ran to the helm, intending to put it down, that he might the better comprehend my meaning, he and his mates held me back. I pitched into one fellow and knocked him over, and was about to treat the other in the same way, when the skipper with his big fist hit me a blow on the head which brought me to the deck.
“When I came to my senses it was broad daylight, and I knew that long before that time, if the yacht had gone down, you must all of you have lost your lives. I believe the Dutchman intended to apologise for having treated me in so unceremonious a fashion, but, as I could not understand a word he said, I am not sure. He behaved, however, afterwards, far better than I should have expected from the way our acquaintance had commenced. I was never a very good hand at picking up languages, so that it was some time before I could make myself even imperfectly understood by any one on board. Strange to say, not a man among them spoke a word of English. I wanted the skipper to put into some port, but he replied that, ‘Out of his course he would not go for me or any man.’ I then begged him, chiefly by signs, that should we fall in with a homeward-bound ship, to put me on board of her. He nodded his head and let me understand that, providing it was during calm weather, he should have no objection, and advised me meanwhile to console myself with his schiedam, of which he had a plentiful supply. Both he and his mates indulged in it pretty largely, I found. I expected that he would touch at the Cape, but to my disgust he ran to the south’ard, in order to fall in with the westerly trades, and I found that he intended to touch nowhere until he reached Batavia.
“This was anything but consolatory, besides which I had no one to talk to, and not a book on board I could read. I tried hard to make out the few Dutch books he had on board, and used to ask him or the mates, or indeed any of the men I found at hand, to pronounce the words, when I tried to discover their meaning. I believe, had the voyage lasted longer, I should have learned to speak and read Dutch fluently; but, as the skipper was drunk half his time, and the mates the other two quarters, I could not get much out of them. The only fellow who really was of use was young Rip Van Winkle. He took a liking to me, as I did to him, from the first, and I often saved him from many a cuff and kick which he was wont to receive from the crew. He was, I confess, a sort of ‘dirty Dick’ on board, and so he would have continued had I not taught him to clean himself; and now he is as fond of washing as any one, except when the weather is cold, then he rather objects to it, and falls back into his bad habits. My only companion besides Rip was a large dog—no great beauty—whom I called Snarleyow, from being unable to pronounce his Dutch name, and he took to it, as he did to me, immediately, and always came when so called. I treated him as a friend, whereas, from the skipper downwards, he was accustomed to receive more kicks than ha’pence, except from poor Rip, and consequently had no great affection for his masters.
“Besides my anxiety about you, and my disappointment at not being able to take advantage of the new position into which, through Counsellor McMahon, I was placed—not that that weighed very much with me—I could not help feeling anxious about the way in which the ship was navigated. Being unable to understand the Dutch books, I could not myself work out the reckonings, though frequently I took an observation, to keep my hand in.
“I once only had a chance of communicating with England. We sighted a British ship, and as by that time I had picked up enough Dutch to use the signal-book, I hoisted the signals ‘British officer on board; heave to for him.’ I thought when the skipper saw the other ship heave to that he would do the same, but it was blowing hard, and he obstinately refused to lift tack or sheet or lower a boat, and you can just fancy how I felt when I saw the homeward-bound vessel standing away from us. From the temperature of the weather I now suspected that we had got a very long way to the south, when it came on to blow hard. The Dutchman shortened sail, as he generally did when there was any wind, and continued the course on which he was steering. The old ship, though a tub, was a good sea boat, and I had no reason to fear danger, provided she did not run her stem into an iceberg or strike any rocks or reefs. Blow high, blow low, the skipper walked the deck with his hands in his pockets and a huge meerschaum in his mouth, looking as composed as usual?