"Nordhoff, Charles & Hall, James Norman - Bounty 02 - Men Against the Sea 1.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hall James)

"I've served on ships," said Fryer, "where we'd not such a meal for six months together."

"Aye," said the captain. "Hunger's the only sauce. It was damn near worth starving for a month to have such a relish for victuals. . . . Do you mind what day it is, Mr. Nelson?"

"What day ? I could not be sure of telling you within a week."

"It is Friday, the twenty-ninth of May: the anniversary of the Restoration of King Charles the Second. We shall call this Restoration Island, in his memory. The name will serve in a double sense. We have been restored, God knows!"

Employing some self-restraint, I managed to eat my share so as to take a full half hour to finish it. Fryer, I observed, gulped his down in an instant, and held out his shell for the few spoonfuls left over for every man. Purcell and Lenkletter played the gluttons as well, and I was forced to warn Simpson, still in a very weak state, against swallowing his food too fast.

Nelson and I felt so much revived after dinner that we set out for a tottering walk into the island. We found it rocky, with a barren soil, supporting a growth of stunted trees. There were many of the small palms whose hearts we had found good to eat; I recognized the purau, of Otaheite, in a stunted form; and there were other trees which Nelson informed me resembled the poisonous manchineel of the West Indies. About the summit of the island, not above one hundred and fifty feet in height, great numbers of parrots and large pigeons were feeding on the berries here growing in abundance, but though we tried to knock them down with stones, the birds were as hard to approach as partridges in England. We gathered a quantity of the better sort of berries, which eat very well indeed, and as we wandered toward the eastern side of the island we came upon two tumbled-down huts of the Indians. These were ruder than any Indian habitations I had seen. Nelson stooped over the blackened stones of a fireplace to take up a roughly fashioned spear, with the sharp end hardened in the fire.

At that moment I perceived in the sand the tracks of some large animal, unlike the footprints of any beast known to me. Nelson examined the tracks with interest.

"I think I can name the beast," he said: "Mr. Gore, Captain Cook's lieutenant, shot one at Endeavour River, south of here. It was as great as a man, mouse-coloured, and ran hopping on its hind legs. The Indians called it \anguroo"

"How could it have come here?" I asked. "Do they swim?" "That I don't know. Perhaps; or it may be that the Indians stock these islands with young ones, where they may be easily caught when required." ' "Is the flesh fit for food?"

"Cook thought it was good as the best mutton. The beasts are said to be timid, and to run faster than a horse."

As we approached the rocky shore on the east side of the island, Nelson chose himself a long, wide palm frond, and sat down, Indian fashion, to plait a basket. I admired the deftness of his fingers as they wove the leaflets swiftly this way and that; in ten minutes he had completed a stout basket, handle and all, fit to hold a full bushel.

"Now for the shellfish!" he remarked, as he rose shakily to his feet. "Gad, Ledward! I feel a new man to-day!"

I set to work with the cutlass, opening the oysters growing here and there on the rocks below high water mark; with his Indian spear, Nelson waded among the pools. I soon had three or four dozen oysters in the basket. Nelson added two large cockles of the Tridacna kind to our bag: the pair of them a meal for a man. It was mid-afternoon when we took up our burdens and trudged back to the encampment, halting frequently to rest.

Our stew that afternoon was a noble one -- oysters, cockles, and chopped-up heart of palm. This latter was added at Nelson's suggestion, and was the cause of some murmuring. "Are we to have no bread, sir?" asked the carpenter sourly. "No," replied Captain Bligh; "we shall save our bread. Mr. Nelson says these palm hearts are as good cooked as raw."

Fryer stood by with a gloomy face. "It will ruin the stew," he said. "The bread was the making of it at dinner time."

"Aye, sir," put in Purcell, "give us but half the full amount. It'll be poor stuff without the bread."

Bligh turned away impatiently. "Damn it, no!" he replied. "You're grown queasy as young ladies on the island here! Wait till you taste the stew, if you must complain." Our meal was soon pronounced done, and each man received a full pint and a half. The sauce seemed to me even better than that we had eaten at dinner, and once the men tasted it all murmuring ceased.

At sunset, when it fell dead calm, we observed several columns of smoke at a distance of two or three miles on the main. Bligh ordered some of the people to pass the night in the boat, and a watch was kept on shore.

"We must be on our guard," he said; "though I believe there is small danger of the Indians visiting us to-night. Our fire made no smoke, and they cannot have seen the boat."

As darkness came on, Bligh went down to the beach, where Cole was on watch, and remained for a long time seated on the sand chatting with him, while the rest of us retired to our sleeping places.

Nelson was asleep almost at once; but returning strength had left me wakeful, and I lay for a long time gazing at the starlit sky. Purcell and the master lay close by, conversing in low tones. Perhaps they thought me asleep; in any event, I could not avoid overhearing what they said. After a time, I perceived that their talk had turned to the mutiny.

"Ungrateful?" the carpenter was saying. "Damn my eyes! What had they to be grateful for? Christian was treated worse than a dog half the time. I excuse none of "em, mind! I'd be pleased to see every man of the lot swinging at a yardarm; but I'll say this: If ever a captain deserved to lose his ship, ours did."

"If that's your feeling, why didn't you join with Christian?" said Fryer.

"It's no love for Captain Bligh that kept me from it, I'll promise you that," said Purcell. "He's himself to thank for the mutiny, and so I'll say if we've the luck to get home."

"He has his faults," said Fryer. "He trusts none of his officers to perform their duties, but must have a hand in everything. But if you think him a Tartar, you should sail with some of the captains I've served under. There was old Sandy Evans! The last topman off the yard got half a dozen with a colt. He called it 'encouraging' them."