Chapter VII. I Go to Sea in the Brig "Covenant" of Dysart

by Robert Louis Stevenson

　　I came to myself in darkness, in great pain, bound hand and foot,and deafened by many unfamiliar noises. There sounded in my earsa roaring of water as of a huge mill-dam, the thrashing of heavysprays, the thundering of the sails, and the shrill cries ofseamen. The whole world now heaved giddily up, and now rushedgiddily downward; and so sick and hurt was I in body, and my mindso much confounded, that it took me a long while, chasing mythoughts up and down, and ever stunned again by a fresh stab ofpain, to realise that I must be lying somewhere bound in thebelly of that unlucky ship, and that the wind must havestrengthened to a gale. With the clear perception of my plight,there fell upon me a blackness of despair, a horror of remorse atmy own folly, and a passion of anger at my uncle, that once morebereft me of my senses.When I returned again to life, the same uproar, the same confusedand violent movements, shook and deafened me; and presently, tomy other pains and distresses, there was added the sickness of anunused landsman on the sea. In that time of my adventurousyouth, I suffered many hardships; but none that was so crushingto my mind and body, or lit by so few hopes, as these first hoursaboard the brig.I heard a gun fire, and supposed the storm had proved too strongfor us, and we were firing signals of distress. The thought ofdeliverance, even by death in the deep sea, was welcome to me.Yet it was no such matter; but (as I was afterwards told) acommon habit of the captain's, which I here set down to show thateven the worst man may have his kindlier side. We were thenpassing, it appeared, within some miles of Dysart, where the brigwas built, and where old Mrs. Hoseason, the captain's mother, hadcome some years before to live; and whether outward or inwardbound, the Covenant was never suffered to go by that place byday, without a gun fired and colours shown.I had no measure of time; day and night were alike in thatill-smelling cavern of the ship's bowels where, I lay; and themisery of my situation drew out the hours to double. How long,therefore, I lay waiting to hear the ship split upon some rock,or to feel her reel head foremost into the depths of the sea, Ihave not the means of computation. But sleep at length stolefrom me the consciousness of sorrow.I was awakened by the light of a hand-lantern shining in my face.A small man of about thirty, with green eyes and a tangle of fairhair, stood looking down at me."Well," said he, "how goes it?"I answered by a sob; and my visitor then felt my pulse andtemples, and set himself to wash and dress the wound upon myscalp."Ay," said he, "a sore dunt[10]. What, man? Cheer up! Theworld's no done; you've made a bad start of it but you'll make abetter. Have you had any meat?"[10] Stroke.I said I could not look at it: and thereupon he gave me somebrandy and water in a tin pannikin, and left me once more tomyself.The next time he came to see me, I was lying betwixt sleep andwaking, my eyes wide open in the darkness, the sickness quitedeparted, but succeeded by a horrid giddiness and swimming thatwas almost worse to bear. I ached, besides, in every limb, andthe cords that bound me seemed to be of fire. The smell of thehole in which I lay seemed to have become a part of me; andduring the long interval since his last visit I had sufferedtortures of fear, now from the scurrying of the ship's rats, thatsometimes pattered on my very face, and now from the dismalimaginings that haunt the bed of fever.The glimmer of the lantern, as a trap opened, shone in like theheaven's sunlight; and though it only showed me the strong, darkbeams of the ship that was my prison, I could have cried aloudfor gladness. The man with the green eyes was the first todescend the ladder, and I noticed that he came somewhatunsteadily. He was followed by the captain. Neither said aword; but the first set to and examined me, and dressed my woundas before, while Hoseason looked me in my face with an odd, blacklook."Now, sir, you see for yourself," said the first: "a high fever,no appetite, no light, no meat: you see for yourself what thatmeans.""I am no conjurer, Mr. Riach," said the captain."Give me leave, sir" said Riach; "you've a good head upon yourshoulders, and a good Scotch tongue to ask with; but I will leaveyou no manner of excuse; I want that boy taken out of this holeand put in the forecastle.""What ye may want, sir, is a matter of concern to nobody butyoursel'," returned the captain; "but I can tell ye that which isto be. Here he is; here he shall bide.""Admitting that you have been paid in a proportion," said theother, "I will crave leave humbly to say that I have not. Paid Iam, and none too much, to be the second officer of this old tub,and you ken very well if I do my best to earn it. But I was paidfor nothing more.""If ye could hold back your hand from the tin-pan, Mr. Riach, Iwould have no complaint to make of ye," returned the skipper;"and instead of asking riddles, I make bold to say that ye wouldkeep your breath to cool your porridge. We'll be required ondeck," he added, in a sharper note, and set one foot upon theladder.But Mr. Riach caught him by the sleeve."Admitting that you have been paid to do a murder ----" he began.Hoseason turned upon him with a flash."What's that?" he cried. "What kind of talk is that?""It seems it is the talk that you can understand," said Mr.Riach, looking him steadily in the face."Mr. Riach, I have sailed with ye three cruises," replied thecaptain. "In all that time, sir, ye should have learned to knowme: I'm a stiff man, and a dour man; but for what ye say the now-- fie, fie! -- it comes from a bad heart and a black conscience.If ye say the lad will die----""Ay, will he!" said Mr. Riach."Well, sir, is not that enough?" said Hoseason. "Flit him whereye please!"Thereupon the captain ascended the ladder; and I, who had lainsilent throughout this strange conversation, beheld Mr. Riachturn after him and bow as low as to his knees in what was plainlya spirit of derision. Even in my then state of sickness, Iperceived two things: that the mate was touched with liquor, asthe captain hinted, and that (drunk or sober) he was like toprove a valuable friend.Five minutes afterwards my bonds were cut, I was hoisted on aman's back, carried up to the forecastle, and laid in a bunk onsome sea-blankets; where the first thing that I did was to losemy senses.It was a blessed thing indeed to open my eyes again upon thedaylight, and to find myself in the society of men. Theforecastle was a roomy place enough, set all about with berths,in which the men of the watch below were seated smoking, or lyingdown asleep. The day being calm and the wind fair, the scuttlewas open, and not only the good daylight, but from time to time(as the ship rolled) a dusty beam of sunlight shone in, anddazzled and delighted me. I had no sooner moved, moreover, thanone of the men brought me a drink of something healing which Mr.Riach had prepared, and bade me lie still and I should soon bewell again. There were no bones broken, he explained: "Aclour[11] on the head was naething. Man," said he, "it was methat gave it ye!"[11] Blow.Here I lay for the space of many days a close prisoner, and notonly got my health again, but came to know my companions. Theywere a rough lot indeed, as sailors mostly are: being men rootedout of all the kindly parts of life, and condemned to tosstogether on the rough seas, with masters no less cruel. Therewere some among them that had sailed with the pirates and seenthings it would be a shame even to speak of; some were men thathad run from the king's ships, and went with a halter round theirnecks, of which they made no secret; and all, as the saying goes,were "at a word and a blow" with their best friends. Yet I hadnot been many days shut up with them before I began to be ashamedof my first judgment, when I had drawn away from them at theFerry pier, as though they had been unclean beasts. No class ofman is altogether bad, but each has its own faults and virtues;and these shipmates of mine were no exception to the rule. Roughthey were, sure enough; and bad, I suppose; but they had manyvirtues. They were kind when it occurred to them, simple evenbeyond the simplicity of a country lad like me, and had someglimmerings of honesty.There was one man, of maybe forty, that would sit on my berthsidefor hours and tell me of his wife and child. He was a fisherthat had lost his boat, and thus been driven to the deep-seavoyaging. Well, it is years ago now: but I have never forgottenhim. His wife (who was "young by him," as he often told me)waited in vain to see her man return; he would never again makethe fire for her in the morning, nor yet keep the bairn when shewas sick. Indeed, many of these poor fellows (as the eventproved) were upon their last cruise; the deep seas and cannibalfish received them; and it is a thankless business to speak illof the dead.Among other good deeds that they did, they returned my money,which had been shared among them; and though it was about a thirdshort, I was very glad to get it, and hoped great good from it inthe land I was going to. The ship was bound for the Carolinas;and you must not suppose that I was going to that place merely asan exile. The trade was even then much depressed; since that,and with the rebellion of the colonies and the formation of theUnited States, it has, of course, come to an end; but in thosedays of my youth, white men were still sold into slavery on theplantations, and that was the destiny to which my wicked unclehad condemned me.The cabin-boy Ransome (from whom I had first heard of theseatrocities) came in at times from the round-house, where heberthed and served, now nursing a bruised limb in silent agony,now raving against the cruelty of Mr. Shuan. It made my heartbleed; but the men had a great respect for the chief mate, whowas, as they said, "the only seaman of the whole jing-bang, andnone such a bad man when he was sober." Indeed, I found therewas a strange peculiarity about our two mates: that Mr. Riach wassullen, unkind, and harsh when he was sober, and Mr. Shuan wouldnot hurt a fly except when he was drinking. I asked about thecaptain; but I was told drink made no difference upon that man ofiron.I did my best in the small time allowed me to make some thinglike a man, or rather I should say something like a boy, of thepoor creature, Ransome. But his mind was scarce truly human. Hecould remember nothing of the time before he came to sea; onlythat his father had made clocks, and had a starling in theparlour, which could whistle "The North Countrie;" all else hadbeen blotted out in these years of hardship and cruelties. Hehad a strange notion of the dry land, picked up from sailor'sstories: that it was a place where lads were put to some kind ofslavery called a trade, and where apprentices were continuallylashed and clapped into foul prisons. In a town, he thoughtevery second person a decoy, and every third house a place inwhich seamen would be drugged and murdered. To be sure, I wouldtell him how kindly I had myself been used upon that dry land hewas so much afraid of, and how well fed and carefully taught bothby my friends and my parents: and if he had been recently hurt,he would weep bitterly and swear to run away; but if he was inhis usual crackbrain humour, or (still more) if he had had aglass of spirits in the roundhouse, he would deride the notion.It was Mr. Riach (Heaven forgive him!) who gave the boy drink;and it was, doubtless, kindly meant; but besides that it was ruinto his health, it was the pitifullest thing in life to see thisunhappy, unfriended creature staggering, and dancing, and talkinghe knew not what. Some of the men laughed, but not all; otherswould grow as black as thunder (thinking, perhaps, of their ownchildhood or their own children) and bid him stop that nonsense,and think what he was doing. As for me, I felt ashamed to lookat him, and the poor child still comes about me in my dreams.All this time, you should know, the Covenant was meetingcontinual head-winds and tumbling up and down against head-seas,so that the scuttle was almost constantly shut, and theforecastle lighted only by a swinging lantern on a beam. Therewas constant labour for all hands; the sails had to be made andshortened every hour; the strain told on the men's temper; therewas a growl of quarrelling all day, long from berth to berth; andas I was never allowed to set my foot on deck, you can picture toyourselves how weary of my life I grew to be, and how impatientfor a change.And a change I was to get, as you shall hear; but I must firsttell of a conversation I had with Mr. Riach, which put a littleheart in me to bear my troubles. Getting him in a favourablestage of drink (for indeed he never looked near me when he wassober), I pledged him to secrecy, and told him my whole story.He declared it was like a ballad; that he would do his best tohelp me; that I should have paper, pen, and ink, and write oneline to Mr. Campbell and another to Mr. Rankeillor; and that if Ihad told the truth, ten to one he would be able (with their help)to pull me through and set me in my rights."And in the meantime," says he, "keep your heart up. You're notthe only one, I'll tell you that. There's many a man hoeingtobacco over-seas that should be mounting his horse at his owndoor at home; many and many! And life is all a variorum, at thebest. Look at me: I'm a laird's son and more than half a doctor,and here I am, man-Jack to Hoseason!"I thought it would be civil to ask him for his story.He whistled loud."Never had one," said he. "I like fun, that's all." And heskipped out of the forecastle.