Freaks on the Fells: Three Months' Rustication

“Jack,” said I, eagerly, “here’s a letter from my father!”

He evinced no surprise, but, looking up solemnly, said, in a faint voice, “Read it.”

Breaking the seal, I read as follows:—

“My Beloved Son,—I forgive you. You have sinned deeply in thus leaving me; but I know that you have repented. I know that your own conscience has rebuked you more sternly than any earthly parent could do. You cannot now recall the past—you cannot undo what you have done; you must now continue your voyage, and, in order to relieve your oppressed heart, I give you my blessing. I commend you, my dear boy, to Him who is the Saviour of sinners.

“Beware of the captain. Obey him in all that is right, but do not serve him. Again, I say, beware of him. There are secrets concerning him that I cannot unfold. I have just been to see Jack’s mother. She sends her forgiveness and blessing to her son. God bless you, boy.—Your loving father,

“John Smith.”

My father understood human nature. No reproaches that he could have heaped upon me would have cut half so deeply into my heart as did this kind, forgiving letter. My heart was full. Yet I felt a deep undercurrent of joy at knowing that my father loved me still. I looked at Jack. He seemed to be asleep, but he was not. A single tear coursed over his pale cheek as he looked up and whispered—

“We don’t deserve this, Bob.”

Before I could reply, the ship was shaken by a tremendous explosion, and immediately after I heard the most appalling shrieks and yells on deck, accompanied by the clashing of swords and the scuffling of men in deadly conflict. I looked at Jack; he lay motionless, with his eyes closed. For a moment I feared that he was dead.

“Bob Smith! Hallo! tumble up there, you skulker!” shouted a voice down the hatchway. At the same moment two wounded men were carried into the place, and the surgeon appeared with his horrible instruments glittering, cold and sharp, on a wooden tray.

Seizing my cutlass, and thrusting a brace of pistols in my belt, I rushed on deck.

Story 2—Chapter 5

On reaching the deck I saw at once how matters stood. The Russian had allowed us to come alongside, and then, throwing out grappling-irons, had fired a broadside into us, and attempted to board. They were soon overcome, however, by the pirates, and driven back into their ship, whither they were immediately followed.

I resolved, come what might, that I would take no part in the fray; but I was carried, in spite of myself, on board the strange vessel in the rush that our men made when they drove their opponents back. There was a short, sharp skirmish on the deck of the Russian, and then the crew were driven below, and the hatches put on. I remembered having seen a number of soldiers on board when we first came up with this vessel. There were none now. Their mysterious disappearance struck me at first, but I soon forgot it in the thrilling scenes that followed.

In the middle of the vessel’s main-deck there was a cage of wild beasts. How they had got there of course I knew not, but I at once concluded the ship must have been in southern climes, and these animals were being brought home to be presented to some menagerie or zoological garden. There were several fine specimens of lions and tigers, and the sight of blood which flowed plentifully on the decks had so excited these creatures that they were now filling the air with deafening roars, bounding against the sides of their cage, (which I expected every moment to see broken to pieces by their united strength), and glaring at us with the most awful expressions of ferocity I ever beheld.

Our captain, who looked almost as fierce as the wild brutes, could not make his voice heard for their roaring. In savage fury he rushed at the cage and made a desperate cut with his sword at the lion nearest the bars. The blood flowed from the wound freely, and the savage animal, being unable to wreak its vengeance on its cowardly assailant, attacked one of its comrades. This, and the blood now flowing in the cage, quite maddened them all. An indiscriminate fight ensued. The wooden partition that separated the tigers from the lions was smashed in, and the strong cage shook as if it were made of card-board.

“Turn a gun in-board,” yelled the captain, who seemed to have actually gone mad with passion.

The order was instantly obeyed.

“Load to the muzzle—grape—canister—chain shot. In with it.”

He assisted in the operation; rammed home the extraordinary charge, pointed the gun at the cage, and applied the match. Instantly the gun leaped backwards as if it had been a living thing, broke down the bulwarks of the ship, and plunged overboard.

The effect of the shot was terrific. The cage was blown to atoms, and the mangled remains of the wild beasts were strewn about the deck. One animal, however, a magnificent Bengal tiger, had apparently escaped unhurt. It sprang at the captain with a hideous roar. He pointed a pistol at its open throat!

At that moment the woodcut in my book of travels flashed vividly before me. But I had not time to think. The pistol exploded, sending its contents down the creature’s throat. The tiger fell short in its leap; blood poured from its mouth and nose. With another bound it cleared the bulwarks, and fell into the sea.

The calm that succeeded this thrilling incident was like a sudden lull in the midst of a furious storm. Even the pirates seemed to be solemnised by what had passed.

“Now to work,” cried the captain, wiping his sword, and laying it, with a brace of loaded pistols, on the capstan. “What are you staring at, you fools?—have you lost your senses? Open the after-hatch, and bring them up, one at a time. Get the plank ready.”

The first who was led bound before the captain was the steward of the ship. He was deadly pale, and trembled very much.

“Now, my man,” said the captain, “answer my questions. The truth mind, else—” he touched the butt of a pistol significantly.

“Where did you last sail from?”

To my amazement, the man gave the name of the port from which we ourselves had sailed. I felt certain that this was a falsehood, and that the poor man’s life would be forfeited. Judge, then, my surprise when the captain said—

“I know that as well as you. I saw you sneak out just the day before we did. But you didn’t escape me, ha! ha! You are too good to live, my man. Stand aside here till I call someone who’s not quite so frightened. Here, hold him, one of you! Bring another!”

I started. My heart almost ceased to beat when the next man was led forward. He was my father’s man-servant, Edwards. In the confusion and horror of that hour I could not reason; but a vague sense of some mysterious impossibility having actually taken place oppressed me in a way that I cannot explain. The ship had sailed the day before ours did! I left Edwards behind me in the race from home! How, then, did I see him before me? Then the cage of wild beasts. How was it possible that a vessel leaving an English port could have such creatures on board? Then, my father’s letter; it seemed more than ever mysterious how that letter could reach me, and through such a channel, and without a word of reference to Edwards.

He did not observe me as he passed. I tried to utter his name; but my tongue was tied. I could not speak. I could not move.

“Where did you last sail from?” began the captain.

“You’ll get nothing out of me,” replied Edwards, stoutly. “Do your most. Torture me if you like. I defy you to your teeth.”

“Do you, my fine fellow?” said the captain, with a bitter sneer. “Then I’ll just send you overboard at once. I’ve no time to torture you; and as I shall find plenty of your comrades willing enough to tell me all they know, I’ll not trouble you any further. Ho! run out the plank there!”

I knew what that meant, and a cold shiver passed through my frame as the men obeyed, and blind-folded Edwards, preparatory to making him walk the plank. I could restrain myself no longer. Darting up to the captain, I shouted in a voice of indignation—

“Do you mean to murder an innocent man, you dastardly villain?”

He looked at me for a moment in surprise; then, snatching a pistol, felled me with it to the deck. I was not rendered quite insensible. I heard the shriek of agony uttered by poor Edwards, as he fell off the end of the plank into the sea; then I fainted.

How long I lay, I know not; probably not long, for I was restored to a state of consciousness by being plunged into the sea. I had no doubt that the captain had ordered me to be thrown overboard, just after I fell under his brutal blow.

Being a good swimmer, I struck out at once and made for the side of the pirate vessel, where I caught the end of a rope, and soon clambered on board. I was much exhausted, and sat down on the breech of a carronade to rest and recover my stunned and scattered faculties.

The crew of the pirate were so busily engaged with the captured ship that I found myself quite alone on the deck. Not a man remained in the ship. An idea suddenly occurred to me just then. I glanced up at the sails. They were all flapping in the wind except the fore-topsail. That sail had slewed round, and was drawing so that the vessel strained the ropes and grappling-irons that held her to the captured ship.

I sprang up burning with eager excitement. I heard the shrieks of the ill-fated victims, as one by one they walked the plank, which, fortunately for the success of my design, was thrust out on the other side of the ship. A crowbar enabled me to wrench off the grappling-irons. Two cuts of a large axe severed the cable that had been fastened to the bow, and the vessel’s head fell slowly off. As it did so, all the sails filled with a sudden clap. This was observed: I heard a shout, and saw the pirates spring on the bulwarks of the prize. I flew rather than ran to the stern, where the cable that held the vessel was rigid as a bar of iron. One blow cut it, and the rope recoiled violently in the faces of the men who laid hold of it. Next moment the pirate ship was heading away before a stiff breeze which was quickly freshening to a gale. As I sprang to the helm, a shower of musket and pistol bullets tore up the deck round me, and I heard the captain’s voice give the order to load the guns.

It was a few minutes before the vis inertiae of the ship was overcome, so that I was within close range when a whole broadside was fired at me. But not a shot struck. They tore up the water all round, and ricochetted over me. Before they could reload I was almost beyond range, for the gale was freshening every moment, and the canvas spread was enough almost to tear the masts out of the ship. The water hissed as she flew over the heaving waves, and in a few minutes I felt that I was free.

Oh the feeling of wild delight that filled me when I realised this! I lashed the helm amidships, and ran down below to tell Jack what I had done. He was asleep. By a powerful effort I restrained myself, and did not disturb him. Then I rushed on deck. My brain seemed on fire. I shouted, laughed, and sang, and wept, until I began to feel a terrible sensation of dread lest I should go mad. But this, instead of calming me, caused me to dance and sing and shout the more. A burning thirst came upon me. I ran to the water-cask and drank till I could drink no more. I was refreshed; but soon the fever returned fiercer than ever. I was mad! I knew it; I felt it; but I did not care. I saw that the storm increased; this caused me to shout again with joy at the thought that I was so quickly borne away from the scene of butchery, and from the fiends in human form with whom I had so lately associated.

The gale burst in all its fury upon us. The sails were new and strong; the ship plunged into the waves, a green billow swept in-board and burst in fury on the deck, carrying away boats and loose spars. I yelled with delight, and plunged into the brine that lashed the deck from stem to stern. I heard a noise overhead; but was so confused that I could not understand what it was. As I gazed, there came a terrific blast. The mainsail split from top to bottom. The topsails burst and were blown to ribbons. At the same moment, I received a violent blow on the head.

After that, all was darkness and oblivion.

Story 2—Chapter 6

When consciousness returned to me I found myself lying on my back on the deck of a vessel, surrounded and propped up by pillows; and Jack Brown sitting beside me reading a book.

I felt a curious sensation of weakness and emptiness in my head—as if it were hollow, and a strange disinclination, almost inability, to speak or think. Suddenly this passed away, and the events which I have related in the previous chapters rushed back upon my memory with vivid power.

“It must have been a dream,” I thought, “or I must have been ill and delirious, and these things have passed through my fevered brain.”

At that moment the thought of Jack’s amputated leg came into my head. “That will prove it,” thought I, and turned quickly to look at my friend. One glance was sufficient—a wooden stump occupied the place of his right leg. I groaned aloud and burst into tears.

“Come, Bob,” said Jack in a soft, kind tone, laying down his book and bending over me. “Come, my poor fellow, keep quiet. It’s about time you had your dinner. Lie still and I’ll fetch it to you.”

I laid my hand on his arm and detained him. “Then it’s all true,” said I in a tone of the deepest despondency.

“Is what all true?”

“This—this horrible—your leg; your leg—”

Jack suddenly stooped and gazed earnestly into my face. “Do you know me, Bob?” He trembled as he spoke.

“Know you, Jack! why should I not know you? When did I ever forget you?”

“Thank God!” he exclaimed fervently, taking my hand and pressing it to his breast. “You’re all right again. Oh, how I have longed and prayed for this.”

“All right, Jack. Have I been wrong, then?”

“That you have just,” said Jack, smiling sadly. “You’ve just been as mad as a March hare, that’s all!”

I fell flat down and gazed at him. In a minute more I raised myself on one elbow, and, looking at him earnestly, said, “How long, Jack?”

“Just three weeks to-day.”

I fell flat down again, in which position Jack left me to go and fetch me some dinner. He returned quickly with a plate of soup. Before commencing to eat it I pressed my hand on my forehead, and said—

“Jack, I am surrounded by mysteries. How got you so soon well? Where got you that wooden leg? How are we here alone? Where are we going? Clear up my faculties, Jack, while I eat this soup—do, like a good fellow.”

“I can easily do that, Bob. First, I got well because you took care of me.”

“What! I?”

“Yes, you! At the commencement of your madness you tended me and cared for me as if you had been my mother. When you got to lose all ‘method in your madness’ I was well enough to take care of myself and you too. Secondly, I found this wooden leg in the carpenter’s berth, and gladly availed myself of its services, though it is three inches too short, and causes me to hobble in a most undignified manner. Thirdly, we are here alone because there is no one else with us. You took good care of that by cutting the ropes before any of our crew could get aboard—so you told me just before you went mad.”

“Oh! I remember now! I recollect it all. Go on.”

“Fourthly, as to where we are going, I don’t know. Our compass was smashed to pieces in the fight, and I’ve been running for the last three weeks right before the wind. So now you know all, and as you’ve finished your soup I’ll go and get you a lump of boiled junk.”

“Don’t,” said I, rising and shaking myself. “I’ve dined. I feel quite strong. I don’t feel a bit as if I had been ill. Hallo! what land is that?”

Jack started and gazed at it with surprise. He had evidently not known that we were in the neighbourhood of land. A dense fog-bank had concealed it from us. Now that it cleared away it revealed to our gaze a stretch of yellow sand, backed by the lofty blue hills of the interior, and from the palm-trees that I could make out distinctly I judged that we must have been making for the tropical regions during the last three weeks.

Yet here again mystery surrounded me. How was it possible that we should have reached the tropics in so short a time? While I was puzzling over this question, the greatest mystery of all occurred to us. If I were not conscientiously relating events exactly as they occurred, I should expect my readers to doubt my veracity here.

As we were sailing smoothly along, our ship, without any apparent cause, began to sink. She went down gradually, but quickly—inch by inch—until the water was on a level with the decks. We struck no rock! we did not cease to advance towards the shore! I fancied that we must certainly have sprung a leak; but there had been no sound of a plank starting, and there was no noise of water rushing into the hold. I could not imagine what had occurred, but I had not much time for thought. We could do nothing to avert the catastrophe. It occurred so suddenly that we were both rendered mute and helpless. We stood gazing at the water as it crept over the deck without making the slightest effort to save ourselves.

At length the water reached the hatchway and poured in a roaring cataract into the hold. The vessel filled, gave a heavy lurch to port, a species of tremor passed through her frame as if she was a living thing and knew that her hour had come, then she went down in a whirlpool, leaving Jack and me struggling in the sea.

We were both good swimmers, so that we did not experience much alarm, especially when we felt that the sea was comparatively warm; we struck out for the shore, and, being the better swimmer of the two, I took the lead.

But now to our horror we found that we were followed by sharks!

No sooner did we observe this than we struck out with all the energy of terror. We never swam as we did on that occasion. It seemed to me quite miraculous. The water burst from our breasts in foam, and we left long white tracks behind us as we clove our way through the water like two boats. It was awful. I shall never forget my feelings on that occasion: they were indescribable—inconceivable!

We were about a quarter of a mile from a point of rocks when our ship sank. In an incredibly short space of time we were close on the rocks. Being several yards ahead of Jack, I was the first to clamber up, my heart fluttering with fear, yet filled with deep gratitude for my deliverance. I turned to help Jack. He was yet six yards from shore, when a dreadful shark made a rush at him.

“Oh! quick! quick!” I screamed.

He was panting and straining like a lion. Another moment and his hand would have been in mine, but at that moment I beheld the double rows of horrid teeth close upon him. He uttered a piercing shriek, and there was an indescribably horrible scrunch as he went down. In a moment after, he re-appeared, and making a last frightful effort to gain the rocks, caught my hand. I dragged him out of danger instantly, and then I found, to my unutterable joy, that the shark had only bitten off the half of his wooden leg!

Embracing each other fervently, we sat down in the rocks to rest and collect our thoughts.

Story 2—Chapter 7

I have often found, from experience, that the more one tries to collect one’s thoughts, the more one’s thoughts pertinaciously scatter themselves abroad, almost beyond the possibility of discovery. Such was the case with me, after escaping from the sea and the sharks, as related circumstantially in the last chapter. Perhaps the truth of this may best be illustrated by laying before my readers the dialogue that ensued between me and Jack on the momentous occasion referred to, as follows:—

Jack. “I say, Bob, where in all the world have we got to?”

Bob. “Upon my word, I don’t know.”

Jack. “It’s very mysterious.”

Bob. “What’s very mysterious?”

Jack. “Where we’ve got to. Can’t you guess?”

Bob. “Certainly. Suppose I say Lapland?”

Jack. (Shaking his head), “Won’t do.”

Bob. “Why?”

Jack. “’Cause there are no palm-trees in Lapland.”

Bob. “Dear me, that’s true. How confused my head is! I’ll tell you what it is, Jack, I can’t think. That’s it—that’s the cause of the mystery that seems to beset me, I can’t tell how; and then I’ve been ill—that’s it too.”

Jack. “How can there be two causes for one effect, Bob? You’re talking stuff, man. If I couldn’t talk better sense than that, I’d not talk at all.”

Bob. “Then why don’t you hold your tongue? I tell you what it is, Jack, we’re bewitched. You said I was mad some time ago. You were right—so I am; so are you. There are too many mysteries here for any two sane men.” (Here Jack murmured we weren’t men, but boys.) “There’s the running away and not being caught—the ship ready to sail the moment we arrive; there’s your joining me after all your good advice; there’s that horrible fight, and the lions, and Edwards, and the sinking of our ship, and the—the—in short, I feel that I’m mad still. I’m not recovered yet. Here, Jack, take care of me!”

Instead of replying to this, Jack busied himself in fitting a piece of wood he had picked up to his wooden leg, and lashing it firmly to the old stump. When he had accomplished his task, he turned gravely to me and said—

“Bob, your faculties are wandering pretty wildly to-day, but you’ve not yet hit upon the cause of all our misfortunes. The true cause is that you have disobeyed your father, and I my mother.”

I hung my head. I had now no longer difficulty in collecting my thoughts—they circled round that point until I thought that remorse would have killed me. Then suddenly I turned with a look of gladness to my friend.

“But you forget the letter! We are forgiven!”

“True,” cried Jack, with a cheerful expression; “we can face our fate with that assurance. Come, let us strike into the country and discover where we are. I’ll manage to hop along pretty well with my wooden leg. We’ll get home as soon as we can, by land if not by water, and then we’ll remain at home—won’t we, Bob?”

“Remain at home!” I cried; “ay, that will we. I’ve had more than enough of foreign experiences already. Oh! Jack, Jack, it’s little I care for the sufferings I have endured—but your leg, Jack! Willingly, most willingly, my dear friend, would I part with my own, if by so doing I could replace yours.”

Jack took my hand and squeezed it.

“It’s gone now, Bob,” he said sadly. “I must just make the most of the one that’s left. ’Tis a pity that the one that’s left is only the left one.”

So saying he turned his back to the sea, and, still retaining my hand in his, led me into the forest.

But here unthought-of trouble awaited us at the very outset of our wanderings. The ground which we first encountered was soft and swampy, so that I sank above the ankles at every step. In these circumstances, as might have been expected, poor Jack’s wooden leg was totally useless. The first step he took after entering the jungle, his leg penetrated the soft ground to the depth of nine or ten inches, and at the second step it disappeared altogether—insomuch that he could by no means pull it out.

“I say, Bob,” said he, with a rueful expression of countenance, “I’m in a real fix now, and no mistake. Come to anchor prematurely. I resolved to stick at nothing, and here I have stuck at the first step. What is to be done?”

Jack’s right leg being deep down in the ground, it followed, as a physical consequence, that his left leg was bent as if he were in a sitting posture. Observing this fact, just as he made the above remark, he placed both his hands on his left knee, rested his chin on his hands, and gazed meditatively at the ground. The action tickled me so much that I gave a short laugh. Jack looked up and laughed too, whereupon we both burst incontinently into an uproarious fit of laughter, which might have continued ever so long had not Jack, in the fulness of his mirth, given his fixed leg a twist that caused it to crack.

“Hallo! Bob,” he cried, becoming suddenly very grave, “I say, this won’t do, you know; if I break it short off you’ll have to carry me, my boy: so it behoves me to be careful. What is to be done?”