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How My Sea Adventure Began

           Alongsidelayoneofthegigs,Silverinthestern-sheetshimIcouldalwaysrecognizewhileacoupleofmenwereleaningoverthesternbulwarks,oneofthemwitharedcaptheveryroguethatIhadseensomehoursbeforestride-legsuponthepalisade.Apparentlytheyweretalkingandlaughing,thoughatthatdistanceupwardsofamileIcould,ofcourse,hearnowordofwhatwassaid.Allatoncetherebeganthemosthorrid,unearthlyscreaming,whichatfirststartledmebadly,thoughIhadsoonrememberedthevoiceofCaptainFlintandeventhoughtIcouldmakeoutthebirdbyherbrightplumageasshesatpercheduponhermaster’swrist.

           Soonafter,thejolly-boatshovedoffandpulledforshore,andthemanwiththeredcapandhiscomradewentbelowbythecabincompanion.

           Justaboutthesametime,thesunhadgonedownbehindtheSpy-glass,andasthefogwascollectingrapidly,itbegantogrowdarkinearnest.IsawImustlosenotimeifIweretofindtheboatthatevening.

           Thewhiterock,visibleenoughabovethebrush,wasstillsomeeighthofamilefurtherdownthespit,andittookmeagoodishwhiletogetupwithit,crawling,oftenonallfours,amongthescrub.NighthadalmostcomewhenIlaidmyhandonitsroughsides.Rightbelowittherewasanexceedinglysmallhollowofgreenturf,hiddenbybanksandathickunderwoodaboutknee-deep,thatgrewthereveryplentifully;andinthecentreofthedell,sureenough,alittletentofgoat-skins,likewhatthegipsiescarryaboutwiththeminEngland.

           Idroppedintothehollow,liftedthesideofthetent,andtherewasBenGunn’sboathome-madeifeveranythingwashome-made;arude,lop-sidedframeworkoftoughwood,andstretcheduponthatacoveringofgoat-skin,withthehairinside.

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