XVII
THE OPEN SEA
Our haste, however, availed us little, for there was no wind at all. We lay for over two hours under the weird light, over-canopied by the red- brown cloud, while the explosions shook the foundations of the world. Nobody ventured below. The sails flapped idly from the masts: the blocks and spars creaked: the three-cornered waves rose straight up and fell again as though reaching from the deep.
When the men first began to sweat the sails up, evidently in preparation for an immediate departure, I objected vehemently.
"You aren't going to leave him on the island," I cried. "He'll die of starvation."
They did not answer me; but after a little more, when my expostulations had become more positive, Handy Solomon dropped the halliard, and drew me to one side.
"Look here, you," he snarled, "you'd better just stow your gab. You're lucky to be here yourself, let alone botherin' your thick head about anybody else, and you can kiss the Book on that! Do you know why you ain't with them carrion?" He jerked his thumb toward the beach. "It's because Solomon Anderson's your friend. Thrackles would have killed you in a minute 'count of his bit hand. I got you your chance.
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