按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
Pah！ I was once a hangman； or an executioner； rather。 Well I
remember it！ I used the sword； not the rope。 The sword is the
braver way； although all ways are equally inefficacious。 Forsooth；
as if spirit could be thrust through with steel or throttled by a
rope！
CHAPTER XIX
Next to Oppenheimer and Morrell； who rotted with me through the
years of darkness； I was considered the most dangerous prisoner in
San Quentin。 On the other hand I was considered the toughest
tougher even than Oppenheimer and Morrell。 Of course by toughness I
mean enduringness。 Terrible as were the attempts to break them in
body and in spirit； more terrible were the attempts to break me。
And I endured。 Dynamite or curtains had been Warden Atherton's
ultimatum。 And in the end it was neither。 I could not produce the
dynamite； and Warden Atherton could not induce the curtains。
It was not because my body was enduring； but because my spirit was
enduring。 And it was because； in earlier existences； my spirit had
been wrought to steel…hardness by steel…hard experiences。 There was
one experience that for long was a sort of nightmare to me。 It had
neither beginning nor end。 Always I found myself on a rocky； surge…
battered islet so low that in storms the salt spray swept over its
highest point。 It rained much。 I lived in a lair and suffered
greatly； for I was without fire and lived on uncooked meat。
Always I suffered。 It was the middle of some experience to which I
could get no clue。 And since； when I went into the little death I
had no power of directing my journeys； I often found myself reliving
this particularly detestable experience。 My only happy moments were
when the sun shone； at which times I basked on the rocks and thawed
out the almost perpetual chill I suffered。
My one diversion was an oar and a jackknife。 Upon this oar I spent
much time； carving minute letters and cutting a notch for each week
that passed。 There were many notches。 I sharpened the knife on a
flat piece of rock； and no barber was ever more careful of his
favourite razor than was I of that knife。 Nor did ever a miser
prize his treasure as did I prize the knife。 It was as precious as
my life。 In truth； it was my life。
By many repetitions； I managed to bring back out of the jacket the
legend that was carved on the oar。 At first I could bring but
little。 Later； it grew easier； a matter of piecing portions
together。 And at last I had the thing complete。 Here it is：
This is to acquaint the person into whose hands this Oar may fall；
that Daniel Foss； a native of Elkton； in Maryland； one of the United
States of America； and who sailed from the port of Philadelphia； in
1809； on board the brig Negociator； bound to the Friendly Islands；
was cast upon this desolate island the February following； where he
erected a hut and lived a number of years； subsisting on sealshe
being the last who survived of the crew of said brig； which ran foul
of an island of ice； and foundered on the 25th Nov。 1809。
There it was； quite clear。 By this means I learned a lot about
myself。 One vexed point； however； I never did succeed in clearing
up。 Was this island situated in the far South Pacific or the far
South Atlantic？ I do not know enough of sailing…ship tracks to be
certain whether the brig Negociator would sail for the Friendly
Islands via Cape Horn or via the Cape of Good Hope。 To confess my
own ignorance； not until after I was transferred to Folsom did I
learn in which ocean were the Friendly Islands。 The Japanese
murderer； whom I have mentioned before； had been a sailmaker on
board the Arthur Sewall ships； and he told me that the probable
sailing course would be by way of the Cape of Good Hope。 If this
were so； then the dates of sailing from Philadelphia and of being
wrecked would easily determine which ocean。 Unfortunately； the
sailing date is merely 1809。 The wreck might as likely have
occurred in one ocean as the other。
Only once did I； in my trances； get a hint of the period preceding
the time spent on the island。 This begins at the moment of the
brig's collision with the iceberg； and I shall narrate it； if for no
other reason； at least to give an account of my curiously cool and
deliberate conduct。 This conduct at this time； as you shall see；
was what enabled me in the end to survive alone of all the ship's
company。
I was awakened； in my bunk in the forecastle； by a terrific crash。
In fact； as was true of the other six sleeping men of the watch
below； awaking and leaping from bunk to floor were simultaneous。 We
knew what had happened。 The others waited for nothing； rushing only
partly clad upon deck。 But I knew what to expect； and I did wait。
I knew that if we escaped at all； it would be by the longboat。 No
man could swim in so freezing a sea。 And no man； thinly clad； could
live long in the open boat。 Also； I knew just about how long it
would take to launch the boat。
So； by the light of the wildly swinging slush…lamp； to the tumult on
deck and to cries of 〃She's sinking！〃 I proceeded to ransack my sea…
chest for suitable garments。 Also； since they would never use them
again； I ransacked the sea chests of my shipmates。 Working quickly
but collectedly； I took nothing but the warmest and stoutest of
clothes。 I put on the four best woollen shirts the forecastle
boasted； three pairs of pants； and three pairs of thick woollen
socks。 So large were my feet thus incased that I could not put on
my own good boots。 Instead； I thrust on Nicholas Wilton's new
boots； which were larger and even stouter than mine。 Also； I put on
Jeremy Nalor's pea jacket over my own； and； outside of both； put on
Seth Richard's thick canvas coat which I remembered he had fresh…
oiled only a short while previous。
Two pairs of heavy mittens； John Robert's muffler which his mother
had knitted for him； and Joseph Dawes' beaver cap atop my own； both
bearing ear…and neck…flaps； completed my outfitting。 The shouts
that the brig was sinking redoubled； but I took a minute longer to
fill my pockets with all the plug tobacco I could lay hands on。
Then I climbed out on deck； and not a moment too soon。
The moon； bursting through a crack of cloud； showed a bleak and
savage picture。 Everywhere was wrecked gear； and everywhere was
ice。 The sails； ropes； and spars of the mainmast； which was still
standing； were fringed with icicles； and there came over me a
feeling almost of relief in that never again should I have to pull
and haul on the stiff tackles and hammer ice so that the frozen
ropes could run through the frozen shivs。 The wind； blowing half a
gale； cut with the sharpness that is a sign of the proximity of
icebergs； and the big seas were bitter cold to look upon in the
moonlight。
The longboat was lowering away to larboard； and I saw men；
struggling on the ice…sheeted deck with barrels of provisions；
aban