In Distant Waters by Richard Woodman Read Free Book Online Page A

privateer had slipped into Sanday Sound, taking advantage of the weather tide that sluiced through the rocks, islets and Orcadian islands with which her commander was more familiar than either Drinkwater or Hill. In the end, as darkness closed over the
Patrician
and caution forced her to haul off the land, the Danish privateer had escaped.
    It was not Hill, but Drinkwater himself who turned the deck over to Quilhampton.
    â€˜Well, James, you have the ship.’ Isolated by the howl of the wind, Drinkwater unwound with uncharacteristic informality. He fixed the younger man with a perceptive stare.
    â€˜Sir?’ said Quilhampton, puzzled.
    â€˜You have not spoken of it, James . . . the matter upon which you solicited my advice in Leith Road . . .’ Drinkwater prompted, ‘the matter of matrimony, damn it.’
    â€˜Oh . . . no, sir . . . no. But as you said, ’tis likely to be a damnably long voyage.’ Quilhampton’s answer was evasive and he avoided the captain’s eyes, searching the horizon with an expression of despair.
    He wondered if it were an accident caused by the violent motion of the ship as Drinkwater went below, or whether the slight pressure against his shoulder had been a gesture of commiseration.

CHAPTER 3
December 1808

Manhunt
    The islands of Juan Fernandez bear no resemblance to my impression of Crusoe’s refuge
 . . .
    Drinkwater wrote in his journal, then laid down his pen, leaned back in his chair and stared rapturously out of the stern windows. The sashes were lifted and the gentle breeze that wafted into the cabin bore the sweet scent of a lush vegetation dominated by the sandalwood trees. He closed his eyes and drew the air in through his nostrils, a calm contentment filling him. For the first time in weeks his cabin bore a civilised air, being upon an even keel. Drinkwater turned back to his journal, rejected the idea of an attempt to rival Defoe and continued writing.
    We sighted the peak of El Yunque on the 3rd instant, a fair landfall but occupied by the Spaniards, and, unwilling to advertise our presence upon the Pacific coasts of America, took departure for Farther-out Island, thirty leagues to the westward where we found anchorage in ninefathoms with a sandy bottom, wood and water in plenty, an abundance of pig and goats. There are seals and sea-elephants and several species of humming-bird. The men have been exercised at their leisure, a circumstance which gives me great heart after our recent difficulties
 . . .
    He laid his pen down again and rose, stretching. They lay at anchor within half a mile of the beach and he could see the launch drawn up on the sand, the two boat-keepers paddling like children in the shallows. The warmth of a sun almost overhead lay over the anchorage like a benediction, filling the ship with a langorous air.
    â€˜Lotus-eating . . .’ he murmured. Leaning his hands on the sill of the window he looked up at the rugged volcanic summit ofthe island rising precipitously from foothills that were covered in rich vegetation. Unlike the main island of the archipelago, Más-a-Fuera, Farther-out Island, did not possess the anvil-peak of El Yunque, but it was impressively beautiful to men whose eyes had been starved of the sight of green leaves.
    An occasional shot echoed up the ravines, evidence of Mount’s hunting party flushing the wild pig from the undergrowth. The thought of dining that evening on roast pork brought the juices to Drinkwater’s mouth in anticipation and further enhanced his feeling of contentment. They could take a short break here, give the men a run ashore, replenish their wood and water, dine all hands in the very lap of luxury and even, perhaps, if they could find someone among the crew conversant with the process, make some goat’s milk cheese.
    He returned to his table, picked up a pen and began to write again. The breeze