Kidnapped eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 239 pages of information about Kidnapped.

With my stepping ashore I began the most unhappy part of my adventures.  It was half-past twelve in the morning, and though the wind was broken by the land, it was a cold night.  I dared not sit down (for I thought I should have frozen), but took off my shoes and walked to and fro upon the sand, bare-foot, and beating my breast with infinite weariness.  There was no sound of man or cattle; not a cock crew, though it was about the hour of their first waking; only the surf broke outside in the distance, which put me in mind of my perils and those of my friend.  To walk by the sea at that hour of the morning, and in a place so desert-like and lonesome, struck me with a kind of fear.

As soon as the day began to break I put on my shoes and climbed a hill—­the ruggedest scramble I ever undertook—­falling, the whole way, between big blocks of granite, or leaping from one to another.  When I got to the top the dawn was come.  There was no sign of the brig, which must have lifted from the reef and sunk.  The boat, too, was nowhere to be seen.  There was never a sail upon the ocean; and in what I could see of the land was neither house nor man.

I was afraid to think what had befallen my shipmates, and afraid to look longer at so empty a scene.  What with my wet clothes and weariness, and my belly that now began to ache with hunger, I had enough to trouble me without that.  So I set off eastward along the south coast, hoping to find a house where I might warm myself, and perhaps get news of those I had lost.  And at the worst, I considered the sun would soon rise and dry my clothes.

After a little, my way was stopped by a creek or inlet of the sea, which seemed to run pretty deep into the land; and as I had no means to get across, I must needs change my direction to go about the end of it.  It was still the roughest kind of walking; indeed the whole, not only of Earraid, but of the neighbouring part of Mull (which they call the Ross) is nothing but a jumble of granite rocks with heather in among.  At first the creek kept narrowing as I had looked to see; but presently to my surprise it began to widen out again.  At this I scratched my head, but had still no notion of the truth:  until at last I came to a rising ground, and it burst upon me all in a moment that I was cast upon a little barren isle, and cut off on every side by the salt seas.

Instead of the sun rising to dry me, it came on to rain, with a thick mist; so that my case was lamentable.

I stood in the rain, and shivered, and wondered what to do, till it occurred to me that perhaps the creek was fordable.  Back I went to the narrowest point and waded in.  But not three yards from shore, I plumped in head over ears; and if ever I was heard of more, it was rather by God’s grace than my own prudence.  I was no wetter (for that could hardly be), but I was all the colder for this mishap; and having lost another hope was the more unhappy.

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Kidnapped from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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