The Book Of The Bush by George Dunderdale (books to read to improve english .TXT) 📕

Average Was About Ten Pounds,  For Which The Traders Gave A Fig Of

Tobacco Ant About. But Though It Was Now An Old Story, And The Most Aged People Had

Almost Forgotten That Such A Vessel Had Been Wrecked. William Phips

Resolved That The Sunken Treasure Should Again Be Brought To Light.

He Went To London, And Obtained Admittance To King James, Who Had Not Yet

Been Driven From His Throne. He Told The King Of The Vast Wealth That Was

Lying At The Bottom Of The Sea. King James Listened With Attention, And

Thought This A Fine Opportunity To Fill His Treasury With Spanish Gold. He

Appointed William Phips To Be Captain Of A Vessel, Called The Rose Algier,

Carrying Eighteen Guns And Ninety-Five Men. So Now He Was Captain Phips Of

The English Navy.

Captain Phips Sailed From England In The Rose Algier, And Cruised For

Nearly Two Years In The West Indies, Endeavoring To Find The Wreck Of The

Spanish Ship. But The Sea Is So Wide And Deep, That It Is No Easy Matter

To Discover The Exact Spot Where A Sunken Vessel Lies. The Prospect Of

Success Seemed Very Small; And Most People Would Have Thought That Captain

Phips Was As Far From Having Money Enough To Build A "Fair Brick House,"

As He Was While He Tended Sheep.

The Seamen Of The Rose Algier Became Discouraged, And Gave Up All Hope Of

Making Their Fortunes By Discovering The Spanish Wreck. They Wanted To

Compel Captain Phips To Turn Pirate. There Was A Much Better Prospect,

They Thought, Of Growing Rich By Plundering Vessels, Which Still Sailed

The Sea, Than By Seeking For A Ship That Had Lain Beneath The Waves Full

Half A Century. They Broke Out In Open Mutiny, But Were Finally Mastered

By Phips, And Compelled To Obey His Orders. It Would Have Been Dangerous,

However, To Continue Much Longer At Sea With Such A Crew Of Mutinous

Sailors; And, Besides, The Rose Algier Was Leaky And Unseaworthy. So

Captain Phips Judged It Best To Return To England.

Before Leaving The West Indies, He Met With A Spaniard, An Old Man, Who

Remembered The Wreck Of The Spanish Ship, And Gave Him Directions How To

Find The Very Spot. It Wasargo,  And Obtaining A Clearance For

Hokianga,  In New Zealand.  He Had Shipped A Crew Consisting Of A

Mate,  Four Seamen,  And A Cook.

Black Ned Tomlins,  Jim Parrish,  And A Few Other Friends Interviewed

The Crew When The 'Industry' Was Getting Ready For Sea.  Black Ned

Was A Half-Breed Native Of Kangaroo Island,  And Was Looked Upon As

The Best Whaler In The Colonies,  And The Smartest Man Ever Seen In a

Boat.  He Was The Principal Speaker.  He Put The Case To The Crew In

A Friendly Way,  And Asked Them If They Did Not Feel Themselves To Be

A Set Of Fools,  To Think Of Going To Sea With A Murdering Villain

Like Blogg?

Dick Secker Replied Mildly But Firmly.  He Reckoned The Crew Were,  In

A General Way,  Able To Take Care Of Themselves.  They Could Do Their

Duty,  Whatever It Was; And They Were Not Afraid Of Sailing With Any

Man That Ever Trod A Deck.

After A Few Days At Sea They Were Able To Form A Correct Estimate Of

Their Master Mariner.  He Never Came On Deck Absolutely Drunk,  But He

Was Saturated With Rum To The Very Marrow Of His Bones.  A Devil Of

Cruelty,  Hate,  And Murder Glared From His Eyes,  And His Blasphemies

Could Come From No Other Place But The Lowest Depths Of The

Bottomless Pit.  The Mate Was Comparatively A Gentle And Inoffensive

Lamb.  He Did Not Curse And Swear More Than Was Considered Decent And

Proper On Board Ship,  Did His Duty,  And Avoided Quarrels.

One Day Blogg Was Rating The Cook In His Usual Style When The Latter

Made Some Reply,  And The Captain Knocked Him Down.  He Then Called

The Mate,  And With His Help Stripped The Cook To The Waist And Triced

Him Up To The Mast On The Weather Side.  This Gave The Captain The

Advantage Of A Position In Which He Could Deliver His Blows Downward

With Full Effect.  Then He Selected A Rope'S End And Began To Flog

The Cook.  At Every Blow He Made A Spring On His Feet,  Swung The Rope

Over His Head,  And Brought It Down On The Bare Back With The Utmost

Force.  It Was Evident That He Was No 'Prentice Hand At The Business,

But A Good Master Flogger.  The Cook Writhed And Screamed,  As Every

Stroke Raised Bloody Ridges On His Back; But Blogg Enjoyed It.  He

Was In No Hurry.  He Was Like A Boy Who Had Found A Sweet Morsel,  And

Was Turning It Over In His Mouth To Enjoy It The Longer.  After Each

Blow He Looked At The Three Seamen Standing Near,  And At The Man At

The Helm,  And Made Little Speeches At Them.  "I'Ll Show You Who Is

Master Aboard This Ship."  Whack!  "That'S What Every Man Jack Of You

Will Get If You Give Me Any Of Your Jaw."  Whack!  "Maybe You'D Like

To Mutiny,  Wouldn'T You?"  Whack!  The Blows Came Down With

Deliberate Regularity; The Cook'S Back Was Blue,  Black,  And Bleeding,

But The Captain Showed No Sign Of Any Intention To Stay His Hand.

The Suffering Victim'S Cries Seemed To Inflame His Cruelty.  He Was A

Wild Beast In The Semblance Of A Man.  At Last,  In His Extreme Agony,

The Cook Made A Piteous Appeal To The Seamen:

"Mates,  Are You Men?  Are You Going To Stand There All Day,  And Watch

Me Being Flogged To Death For Nothing?"

Before The Next Stroke Fell The Three Men Had Seized The Captain; But

He Fought With So Much Strength And Fury That They Found It Difficult

To Hold Him.  The Helmsman Steadied The Tiller With Two Turns Of The

Rope And Ran Forward To Assist Them.  They Laid Blogg Flat On The

Deck,  But He Kept Struggling,  Cursing,  Threatening,  And Calling On

The Mate To Help Him; But That Officer Took Fright,  Ran To His Cabin

In The Deckhouse,  And Began To Barricade The Door.

Then A Difficulty Arose.  What Was To Be Done With The Prisoner?  He

Was Like A Raving Maniac.  If They Allowed Him His Liberty,  He Was

Sure To Kill One Or More Of Them.  If They Bound Him He Would Get

Loose In Some Way--Probably Through The Mate--And After What Had

Occurred,  It Would Be Safer To Turn Loose A Bengal Tiger On Deck Then

The Infuriated Captain.  There Was But One Way Out Of The Trouble,

And They All Knew It.  They Looked At One Another; Nothing Was

Wanting But The Word,  And It Soon Came.  Secker Had Sailed From The

Cove Of Cork,  And Being An Irishman,  He Was By Nature Eloquent,  First

In Speech,  And First In Action.  He Reflected Afterwards,  When He Had

Leisure To Do So.

"Short Work Is The Best," He Said,  "Over He Goes; Lift The Devil."

Each Man Seized An Arm Or Leg,  And Blogg Was Carried Round

The Mast To The Lee Side.  The Men Worked Together From Training And

Habit. They Swung The Body Athwart The Deck Like A Pendulum,  And With

A "One!  Two!  Three!" It Cleared The Bulwark,  And The Devil Went

Head Foremost Into The Deep Sea.  The Cook,  Looking On From Behind

The Mast,  Gave A Deep Sigh Of Relief.

Thus It Was That A Great Breach Of The Peace Was Committed On The

Pacific Ocean; And It Was Done,  Too,  On A Beautiful Summer's Evening,

When The Sun Was Low,  A Gentle Breeze Barely Filled The Sails,  And

Everybody Should Have Been Happy And Comfortable.

Captain Blogg Rose To The Surface Directly And Swam After His

Schooner.  The Fury Of His Soul Did Not Abate All At Once.  He Roared

To The Mate To Bring The Schooner To,  But There Was No Responsive

"Aye,  Aye,  Sir."  He Was Now Outside Of His Jurisdiction,  And His

Power Was Gone.  He Swam With All His Strength,  And His Bloated Face

Still Looked Red As The Foam Passed By It. The Helmsman Had Resumed

His Place,  And Steadied The Tiller,  Keeping Her Full,  While The Other

Men Looked Over The Stern.  Secker Said:  "The Old Man Will Have A

Long Swim."

But The "Old Man" Swam A Losing Race.  His Vessel Was Gliding Away

From Him:  His Face Grew Pale,  And In An Agony Of Fear And Despair,

He Called To The Men For God's Sake To Take Him On Board And He Would

Forgive Everything.

But His Call Came Too Late; He Could Find No Sureties For His Good

Behaviour In The Future; He Had Never In His Life Shown Any Love For

God Or Pity For Man,  And He Found In His Utmost Need Neither Mercy

Nor Pity Now.  He Strained His Eyes In Vain Over The Crests Of The

Restless Billows,  Calling For The Help That Did Not Come.  The

Receding Sails Never Shivered; No Land Was Near,  No Vessel In Sight.

The Sun Went Down,  And The Hopeless Sinner Was Left Struggling Alone

On The Black Waste Of Waters.

The Men Released The Cook And Held A Consultation About A Troublesome

Point Of Law.  Had They Committed Mutiny And Murder,  Or Only

Justifiable Homicide?  They Felt That The Point Was A Very Important

One To Them--A Matter Of Life And Death--And They Stood In A

Group Near The Tiller