Artwork by Sara Azmy
Robert Louis Stevenson, Kidnapped
I wept and roared like a wicked child, tearing up the turf with my nails and grinding my face in the earth.
In this scene, the narrator has been shipwrecked for days on the remote Scottish island of Earraid, living on fish that make him desperately ill. He is in the worst state of despair when a fishing boat finally comes his way, but it doesn’t stop, in fact the fisherman just laugh at him, and he is frantic with outrage and misery.
Now read on:
If a wish could kill men, those two fishers would never have seen morning, and I should likely have died upon my island.
When I was a little over my anger, I must eat again, but with such loathing of the mess as I could now scarce control. Sure enough, I should have done as well to fast, for my fishes poisoned me again. I had all my first pains; my throat was so sore I could scarce swallow; I had a fit of strong shuddering, which clucked my teeth together; and there came on me that dreadful sense of illness, which we have no name for either in Scotch or English. I thought I should have died, and made my peace with God, forgiving all men, even my uncle and the fishers; and as soon as I had thus made up my mind to the worst, clearness came upon me: I observed the night was falling dry; my clothes were dried a good deal; truly, I was in a better case than ever before, since I had landed on the isle; and so I got to sleep at last, with a thought of gratitude.
The next day (which was the fourth of this horrible life of mine) I found my bodily strength run very low. But the sun shone, the air was sweet, and what I managed to eat of the shell-fish agreed well with me and revived my courage.
I was scarce back on my rock (where I went always the first thing after I had eaten) before I observed a boat coming down the Sound, and with her head, as I thought, in my direction.
I began at once to hope and fear exceedingly; for I thought these men might have thought better of their cruelty and be coming back to my assistance. But another disappointment, such as yesterday’s, was more than I could bear. I turned my back, accordingly, upon the sea, and did not look again till I had counted many hundreds. The boat was still heading for the island. The next time I counted the full thousand, as slowly as I could, my heart beating so as to hurt me. And then it was out of all question. She was coming straight to Earraid!
I could no longer hold myself back, but ran to the seaside and out, from one rock to another, as far as I could go. It is a marvel I was not drowned; for when I was brought to a stand at last, my legs shook under me, and my mouth was so dry, I must wet it with the sea-water before I was able to shout.
All this time the boat was coming on; and now I was able to perceive it was the same boat and the same two men as yesterday. This I knew by their hair, which the one had of a bright yellow and the other black. But now there was a third man along with them, who looked of a better class.
As soon as they were come within easy speech, they let down their sail and lay quiet. In spite of my supplications, they drew no nearer in, and what frightened me most of all, the new man tee-hee’d with laughter as he talked and looked at me.
Then he stood up in the boat and addressed me a long while, speaking fast and with many wavings of his hand. I told him I had no Gaelic; and at this he became very angry, and I began to suspect he thought he was talking English. Listening very close, I caught the word ‘whateffer’ several times; but all the rest was Gaelic and might have been Greek and Hebrew for me.
‘Whatever,’ said I, to show him I had caught a word.
‘Yes, yes—yes, yes,’ says he, and then he looked at the other men, as much as to say, ‘I told you I spoke English,’ and began again as hard as ever in the Gaelic.
This time I picked out another word, ‘tide.’ Then I had a flash of hope. I remembered he was always waving his hand toward the mainland of the Ross.
‘Do you mean when the tide is out------?’ I cried, and could not finish.
‘Yes, yes,’ said he. ‘Tide.’
At that I turned tail upon their boat (where my adviser had once more begun to tee-hee with laughter), leaped back the way I had come, from one stone to another, and set off running across the isle as I had never run before. In about half an hour I came out upon the shores of the creek; and, sure enough, it was shrunk into a little trickle of water, through which I dashed, not above my knees, and landed with a shout on the main island.
A sea-bred boy would not have stayed a day on Earraid; which is only what they call a tidal islet, and except in the bottom of the neaps*, can be entered and left twice in every twenty-four hours, either dry-shod, or at the most by wading. Even I, who had the tide going out and in before me in the bay, and even watched for the ebbs, the better to get my shell-fish—even I (I say) if I had sat down to think, instead of raging at my fate, must have soon guessed the secret, and got free. It was no wonder the fishers had not understood me. The wonder was rather that they had ever guessed my pitiful illusion, and taken the trouble to come back. I had starved with cold and hunger on that island for chose upon one hundred hours. But for the fishers, I might have left my bones there, in pure folly. And even as it was, I had paid for it pretty dear, clothed like a beggar-man, scarce able to walk, and in great pain of my sore throat.
I have seen wicked men and fools, a great many of both; and I believe they both get paid in the end; but the fools first.
*the neaps: a tide just after the first or third quarters of the moon when there is least difference between high and low water
Things we love about this passage
Stevenson gives us a quick sequence of strong emotions: the desperation that the narrator is experiencing as he thinks he is trapped on the island...his outrage at what he assumes is deliberate mockery from the fishermen, as if they're cruelly laughing at his predicament...and then his surprise and sense of shame when he finds out that he's not stranded at all, and can simply walk off the "island" at low tide. Those fisherman, in fact, saved his life. It's a very human, universal set of feelings deeply felt yet remarkably compressed.
About the author
Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-94) was a Scottish writer best known now for his story The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. As well as Kidnapped and other adventure stories and travel writing, he also wrote the popular A Child's Garden of Verses.
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