Boon Island - Kenneth Roberts [130]
Nason seemed embarrassed. He gave the rock back to Neal, took a deep breath and entered the tent again.
The circle of rocks was almost finished. The slivers of wood were stacked in the center.
Nason fell to his knees, pried the cover from his tinderbox, took out the flint and steel and placed a small piece of charred linen on the slivers. He struck the flint with the steel rod; the spark ignited the linen; but when he gently held the point of a sliver to the flame, it wavered and died.
"Here," he said to the silent, kneeling figures around him, "slice the ends of those slivers so they're shredded." He pulled a sheath knife from his belt and feathered the
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end of one of the slivers. Captain Dean, Langman, George White, Neal and I did the same.
"Now I'll do what I should have done first," Nason said. "The sight of you people started me off on the wrong foot. I'll try to light the candle."
He stood the stub of a candle in the candle ring on the top of the tinderbox, rested a piece of tinder against the wick, and again struck sparks from the flint. The tinder ignited: flickered; went out.
"Damn it," Nason said, suddenly exasperated, "don't crowd up so close to me! If you can't move back, stop breathing! How can I start a fire with you blowing your breaths all over me!"
He looked at Neal and was suddenly contrite. "Hear me talk," he said disgustedly, "and you without fire for more than three weeks!"
He produced another piece of tinder, placed it on the candle wick, struck the flint with the steeland the tinder caught: the wick smokedand a yellow flame stood up from it!
Nason turned his head away and whooshed with relief. He stacked up the feathered bits of wood like a little tent, lit one of them from the candle. The flame spread from one stick to another.
Captain Dean leaned down and caught one of Nason's hands in his.
The odor of smoke must have affected my eyes, because I couldn't see for the wetness in them.
Fire! Warmth! Cooked food! Who knows what it's like to be without them?
Only animals! I had the thought that some of us had truly become animals.
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For the second time Nason took out his little account book and a stub of a pencil, and in the book he wrote down the facts that Captain Dean had given him.
"I'll go to Portsmouth tonight if I can," he said. "If I can't, I'll go first thing in the morning. I'll see Governor Wentworth. I know Captain Furber and Captain Long. They'll send proper-sized vessels for you, and proper boats to take you offand food."
He looked at the emaciated, bearded faces, accentuated by the flickering light of the fire. "What have you lived on? What have you had to eat?"
"We saved some things from the ship," Captain Dean said. "Some cheese and meat. Then we had mussels and a seagull and seaweed."
"My God!" Nason said. "Seaweed!" He made another note in his account book, thrust it in his pocket and scrambled from the tent.
"The wind's moving into the southeast," he said. "I don't like it."
The tide was half out, and the breakers were pounding on the uncovered ledges.
"I can't run the risk of launching that canoe where I ran in," Nason said.
Captain Dean agreed. "I think the safest place is around to the northwest. There's a deep cove we can show you."
Nason studied that rim of surf. It was pounding the island from every side, but certainly the waves were less frequent, the sudsy area larger to the north, showing that the drift was toward the mainland. Everywhere else the drift was onshore.
"All right," Nason said, "I'll send the sloop around to
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the north." He looked at us uncertainly. "Can any of you people help me get my canoe across the island?"
"We'll all help you," Captain Dean said. "Four men'll have to stay here and tend that fire. Miles, you stay. And Langman. Keep Graystock and Saver here, too. Watch that fire! Whatever you do, don't choke it! Nurse it! And put the tinderbox and candle