10983	----	THE YOUNG CAPTIVES: A Narrative of the Shipwreck and Sufferings of John and William Doyley. [Illustration] 1850. THE YOUNG CAPTIVES. [Illustration] Here is a picture of a fine large English ship, called the _Charles Eaton_, which was wrecked in the Southern Ocean. The crew, you see, have made a raft of some of the spars and planks of the ship, and having all got upon it, are about cutting loose from the wreck, with the hope that they may reach one of the distant islands. Poor men! they did indeed reach the island; but only to meet a more dreadful death than that threatened them by the waves. Overcome with fatigue and anxiety, they no sooner gained the shore, than they all, captain, crew, and passengers, threw themselves on the earth, and soon were fast asleep. In this helpless state, they were attacked by the cruel and blood-thirsty savages who inhabited the island, and all barbarously murdered, except two little boys, John and William Doyley. These children, sons of a gentleman and lady who had been passengers in the ill-fated ship, were kept in captivity by the savages for many years. At the time of the shipwreck, John was a stout lad, thirteen or fourteen years old; but little William was a mere infant, being scarcely two years of age! Think what a dreadful life these poor little orphans had before them! Their kind parents cruelly murdered, and themselves prisoners to the barbarous murderers! At first the savages treated them harshly, and made them endure all kinds of privation and hardship. Finally, after changing from one cruel master to another several times, they were purchased by one more humane than the rest, named Dupper, who took them to his home on a distant island, and treated them with a great deal of kindness. [Illustration] Dupper taught John how to shoot with the bow and arrow, with which he was himself very expert. He also showed him their method of spearing fish, and taught him many other savage accomplishments. In Dupper's family, too, the boys both learned to speak the native language, and they soon almost forgot their own. But they did not forget their own country; at least John did not; and as he often talked with William about their dear parents, and the pleasant home they had left many miles away, there was but little danger of William forgetting it either. Though kindly treated by Dupper and his family, and made as comfortable as their savage mode of life would allow, yet they suffered many cruel hardships, and severely felt the change from their former to their present way of living. They constantly sighed for home, and were made quite wretched by the prospect of a captivity to which they could see no end, except in death. But the same kind Providence who had preserved them when their parents and the crew of the unfortunate ship were murdered, still watched over and protected these despairing orphans. The day of their deliverance came quite unexpectedly. An English vessel arrived at the island, and cast her anchor near the shore. The natives immediately manned their canoes, and flocked on board, to trade with the strangers. John was permitted to go with the others, and when on the deck of the vessel, he told the captain and officers all about the shipwreck, the murder of the crew and passengers, and his own and his brother's captivity. [Illustration] The kind captain listened to his story, and then set at once about effecting the release of the two boys, which he easily accomplished, and William soon joined John on board of the vessel, where Dupper also appeared, to take leave of his young friends. The kind native was quite sad at the parting, and shed tears of regret as he bade them farewell. But the boys were too happy in the expectation of seeing home once more, to grieve at parting with him, although he had been more kind to them than any of his countrymen. The next morning early, the ship set sail, and after visiting various places, she finally reached England in safety, where our two orphans were restored to their surviving friends, by whom they were kindly taken care of. Let us hope these little boys were ever grateful to their Heavenly Father, who had watched over and preserved them amid all their trials and sufferings, and finally enabled them to reach their home and friends. And let us all remember, that we can trust in Him, for He is able to preserve us, as well in the hour of danger as in that of fancied security and safety. Our lives are in His hands at all times, and it is from His mercy and goodness that we are fed, and clothed, and enjoy the many blessings which He constantly bestows upon us. 
19235	----	[Frontispiece: From it was evoked a monstrous shape.] "Above this far northern sea Ursa Major sailed so directly overhead that he seemed like to fall on us." --_From an early voyage to the coast of Labrador_. Under the Great Bear BY KIRK MUNROE AUTHOR OF "The Flamingo Feather," "Dorymates," "The White Conquerors," Etc. New York International Association of Newspapers and Authors 1901 COPYRIGHT, 1900, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY TABLE OF CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. GRADUATION: BUT WHAT NEXT? II. AN OFFER OF EMPLOYMENT III. THE STRANGE FATE OF A STEAMER IV. ALONE ON THE LIFE RAFT V. WHITE BALDWIN AND HIS "SEA BEE" VI. THE FRENCH SHORE QUESTION VII. DEFYING A FRIGATE VIII. A CLASSMATE TO BE AVOIDED IX. SENDING IN A FALSE REPORT X. CABOT ACQUIRES A LOBSTER FACTORY XI. BLUFFING THE BRITISH NAVY XII. ENGLAND AND FRANCE COME TO BLOWS XIII. A PRISONER OF WAR XIV. THE "SEA BEE" UNDER FIRE XV. OFF FOR LABRADOR XVI. MOSQUITOES OF THE FAR NORTH XVII. IMPRISONED BY AN ICEBERG XVIII. FIRST ENCOUNTER WITH THE NATIVES XIX. A MELANCHOLY SITUATION XX. COMING OF THE MAN-WOLF XXI. A WELCOME MISSIONARY XXII. GOOD-BYE TO THE "SEA BEE" XXIII. THE COMFORT OF AN ESKIMO LAMP XXIV. OBJECTS OF CHARITY XXV. LOST IN A BLIZZARD XXVI. AN ELECTRICIAN IN THE WILDERNESS XXVII. THE MAN-WOLF'S STORY XXVIII. CABOT IS LEFT ALONE XXIX. DRIFTING WITH THE ICE PACK XXX. THE COMING OF DAVID GIDGE XXXI. ASSISTANT MANAGER OF THE MAN-WOLF MINE LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. From It Was Evoked A Monstrous Shape . . . _Frontispiece_ On The Deck Of The Steamer "Lavinia" He Began To Kick At It With The Hope Of Smashing One Of Its Panels At This The Enraged Officer Whipped Out A Revolver "Did This Come From About Here?" Others Fell On The New-Comers With Their Fists Livid With Rage, The Frenchman Whipped Out An Ugly-Looking Knife A Solitary Figure Stood On The Chest Of A Bald Headland "Yim" "My Name Is Watson Balfour" He Reached A Point From Which He Could Look Beyond The Barrier "My Dear Boy, You Have Done Splendidly" UNDER THE GREAT BEAR. CHAPTER I. GRADUATION: BUT WHAT NEXT? "Heigh-ho! I wonder what comes next?" sighed Cabot Grant as he tumbled wearily into bed. The day just ended marked the close of a most important era in his life; for on it he had been graduated from the Technical Institute, in which he had studied his chosen profession, and the coveted sheepskin that entitled him to sign M.E. in capital letters after his name had been in his possession but a few hours. Although Cabot came of an old New England family, and had been given every educational advantage, he had not graduated with honours, having, in fact, barely scraped through his final examination. He had devoted altogether too much time to athletics, and to the congenial task of acquiring popularity, to have much left for study. Therefore, while it had been pleasant to be one of the best-liked fellows in the Institute, captain of its football team, and a leading figure in the festivities of the day just ended, now that it was all over our lad was regretting that he had not made a still better use of his opportunities. A number of his classmates had already been offered fine positions in the business world now looming so ominously close before him. Little pale-faced Dick Chandler, for instance, was to start at once for South Africa, in the interests of a wealthy corporation. Ned Burnett was to be assistant engineer of a famous copper mine; a world-renowned electrical company had secured the services of Smith Redfield, and so on through a dozen names, no one of which was as well known as his, but all outranking it on the graduate list of that day. Cabot had often heard that the career of Institute students was closely watched by individuals, firms, and corporations in need of young men for responsible positions, and had more than once resolved to graduate with a rank that should attract the attention of such persons. But there had been so much to do besides study that had seemed more important at the time, that he had allowed day after day to slip by without making the required effort, and now it appeared that no one wanted him. Yes, there was one person who had made him a proposition that very day. Thorpe Walling, the wealthiest fellow in the class, and one of its few members who had failed to gain a diploma, had said: "Look here, Grant, what do you say to taking a year's trip around the world with me, while I coach for a degree next June? There is no such educator as travel, you know, and we'll make a point of going to all sorts of places where we can pick up ideas. At the same time it'll be no end of a lark." "I don't know," Cabot had replied doubtfully, though his face had lighted at the mere idea of taking such a trip. "I'd rather do that than almost anything else I know of, but----" "If you are thinking of the expense," broke in the other. "It isn't that," interrupted Cabot, "but it seems somehow as though I ought to be doing something more in the line of business. Anyway, I can't give you an answer until I have seen my guardian, who has sent me word to meet him in New York day after to-morrow. I'll let you know what he says, and if everything is all right, perhaps I'll go with you." With this the matter had rested, and during the manifold excitements of the day our lad had not given it another thought, until he tumbled into bed, wondering what would happen next. Then for a long time he lay awake, considering Thorpe's proposition, and wishing that it had been made by any other fellow in the class. Until about the time of entering the Technical Institute, from which he was just graduated, Cabot Grant, who was an only child, had been blessed with as happy a home as ever a boy enjoyed. Then in a breath it was taken from him by a railway accident, that had caused the instant death of his mother, and which the father had only survived long enough to provide for his son's immediate future by making a will. By its terms his slender fortune was placed in the hands of a trust and investment company, who were constituted the boy's guardians, and enjoined to give their ward a liberal education along such lines as he himself might choose. The corporation thus empowered had been faithful to its trust, and had carried out to the letter the instructions of their deceased client during the past five years. Now less than a twelvemonth of their guardianship remained and it was to plan for his disposal of this time that Cabot had been summoned to New York. He had never met the president of the corporation, and it was with no little curiosity concerning him that he awaited, in a sumptuously appointed anteroom, his turn for an audience with the busy man. At length he was shown into a plainly furnished private office occupied by but two persons, one somewhat past middle age, with a shrewd, smooth-shaven face, and the other much younger, who was evidently a private secretary. Of course Cabot instantly knew the former to be President Hepburn; and also, to his surprise, recognised him as one who had occupied a prominent position on the platform of the Institute hall when he had graduated two days earlier. "Yes," said Mr. Hepburn, in a crisp, business tone, as he noted the lad's flash of recognition, "I happened to be passing through and dropped in to see our ward graduate. I was, of course, disappointed that you did not take higher rank. At the same time I concluded not to make myself known to you, for fear of interfering with some of your plans for the day. It also seemed to me better that we should talk business here. Now, with your Institute career ended, how do you propose to spend the remainder of your minority? I ask because, as you doubtless know, our instructions are to consult your wishes in all matters, and conform to them as far as possible." "I appreciate your kindness in that respect," replied Cabot, who was somewhat chilled by this business-like reception, "and have decided, if the funds remaining in your hands are sufficient for the purpose, to spend the coming year in foreign travel; in fact, to take a trip around the world." "With any definite object in view," inquired Mr. Hepburn, "or merely for pleasure?" "With the definite object of studying my chosen profession wherever I may find it practised." "Um! Just so. Do you propose to take this trip alone or in company?" "I propose to go with Thorpe Walling, one of my classmates." "Son of the late General Walling, and a man who failed to graduate, is he not?" "Yes, sir. Do you know him?" "I knew his father, and wish you had chosen some other companion." "I did not choose him. He chose me, and invited me to go with him." "At your own expense, I suppose?" "Certainly! I could not have considered his proposition otherwise." "Of course not," agreed Mr. Hepburn, "seeing that you have funds quite sufficient for such a venture, if used with economy. And you have decided that you would rather spend the ensuing year in foreign travel with Thorpe Walling than do anything else?" "I think I have, sir." "Very well, my boy. While I cannot say that I consider your decision the best that could be made, I have no valid objections to offer, and am bound to grant as far as possible your reasonable desires. So you have my consent to this scheme, if not my whole approval. When do you plan to start?" "Thorpe wishes to go at once." "Then, if you will call here to-morrow morning at about this hour, I will have arranged for your letter of credit, and anything else that may suggest itself for making your trip a pleasant one." "Thank you, sir," said Cabot, who, believing the interview to be ended, turned to leave the room. "By the way," continued Mr. Hepburn, "there is another thing I wish to mention. Can you recommend one of your recent classmates for an important mission, to be undertaken at once to an out-of-the-way part of the world? He must be a young man of good morals, able to keep his business affairs to himself, not afraid of hard work, and willing as well as physically able to endure hardships. His intelligence and mental fitness will, of course, be guaranteed by the Institute's diploma. Our company is in immediate need of such a person, and will engage him at a good salary for a year, with certain prospects of advancement, if he gives satisfaction. Think it over and let me know in the morning if you have hit upon one whom you believe would meet those requirements. In the meantime please do not mention the subject to any one." Charged with this commission, and relieved that the dreaded interview was ended, Cabot hastened uptown to a small secret society club of which he was a non-resident member. There he wrote a note to Thorpe Walling, accepting his invitation, and expressing a readiness to set forth at once on their proposed journey. This done, he joined a group of fellows who were discussing summer plans in the reading-room. "What are you going in for, Grant?" asked one. "Is your summer to be devoted to work or play?" "Both," laughed Cabot. "Thorpe Walling and I are to take an educational trip around the world, during which we hope to have great fun and accomplish much work." "Ho, ho!" jeered he who had put the question. "That's a good one. The idea of coupling 'Torpid' Walling's name with anything that savors of work. You'll have a good time fast enough. But I'll wager anything you like, that in his company you will circumnavigate the globe without having done any work harder than spending money. No, no, my dear boy, 'Torpid' is not the chap to encourage either mental or physical effort in his associates. Better hunt some other companion, or even go by your lonely, if you really want to accomplish anything." These words recurred to our lad many times during the day, and when he finally fell asleep that night, after fruitlessly wondering who of his many friends he should recommend to President Hepburn, they were still ringing in his ears. CHAPTER II. AN OFFER OF EMPLOYMENT. Thorpe Walling had never been one of Cabot Grant's particular friends, nor did the latter now regard with unmixed pleasure the idea of a year's intimate association with him. He had accepted the latter's invitation because nothing else seemed likely to offer, and he could not bear to have the other fellows, especially those whose class standing had secured them positions, imagine that he was not also in demand. Besides, the thought of a trip around the world was certainly very enticing; any opposition to the plan would have rendered him the more desirous of carrying it out. But in his interview with his guardian he had gained his point so easily that the concession immediately lost half its value. Even as he wrote his note to Thorpe he wondered if he really wanted to go with him, and after that conversation in the club reading-room he was almost certain that he did not. If Mr. Hepburn had only offered him employment, how gladly he would have accepted it and declined Thorpe's invitation; but his guardian had merely asked him to recommend some one else. "Which shows," thought Cabot bitterly, "what he thinks of me, and of my fitness for any position of importance. He is right, too, for if ever a fellow threw away opportunities, I have done so during the past four years. And now I am deliberately going to spend another, squandering my last dollar, in company with a chap who will have no further use for me when it is gone. It really begins to look as though I were about the biggest fool of my acquaintance." It was in this frame of mind that our young engineer made a second visit to his guardian's office on the following morning. There he was received by Mr. Hepburn with the same business-like abruptness that had marked their interview of the day before. "Good-morning, Cabot," he said. "I see you are promptly on hand, and, I suppose, anxious to be off. Well, I don't blame you, for a pleasure trip around the world isn't offered to every young fellow, and I wish I were in a position to take such a one myself. I have had prepared a letter of credit for the balance of your property remaining in our hands, and while it probably is not as large a sum as your friend Walling will carry, it is enough to see you through very comfortably, if you exercise a reasonable economy. I have also written letters of introduction to our agents in several foreign cities that may prove useful. Let me hear from you occasionally, and I trust you will have fully as good a time as you anticipate." "Thank you, sir," said Cabot. "You are very kind." "Not at all. I am only striving to carry out your father's instructions, and do what he paid to have done. Now, how about the young man you were to recommend? Have you thought of one?" "No, sir, I haven't. You see, all the fellows who graduated with honours found places waiting for them, and as I knew you would only want one of the best, I can't think of one whom I can recommend for your purpose. I am very sorry, but----" "I fear I did not make our requirements quite clear," interrupted Mr. Hepburn, "since I did not mean to convey the impression that we would employ none but an honour man. It often happens that he who ranks highest as a student fails of success in the business world; and under certain conditions I would employ the man who graduated lowest in his class rather than him who stood at its head." Cabot's face expressed his amazement at this statement, and noting it, Mr. Hepburn smiled as he continued: "The mere fact that a young man has graduated from your Institute, even though it be with low rank, insures his possession of technical knowledge sufficient for our purpose. If, at the same time, he is a gentleman endowed with the faculty of making friends, as well as an athlete willing to meet and able to overcome physical difficulties, I would employ him in preference to a more studious person who lacked any of these qualifications. If you, for instance, had not already decided upon a plan for spending the ensuing year, I should not hesitate to offer you the position we desire to fill." Cabot trembled with excitement. "I--Mr. Hepburn!" he exclaimed. "Would you really have offered it to me?" "Certainly I would. I desired you to meet me here for that very purpose; but when I found you had made other arrangements that might prove equally advantageous, I believed I was meeting your father's wishes by helping you carry them out." "Is the place still open, and can I have it?" asked Cabot eagerly. "Not if you are going around the world; for, although the duties of the position will include a certain amount of travel, it will not be in that direction." "But I don't want to go around the world, and would rather take the position you have to offer than do anything else I know of," declared Cabot. "Without knowing its requirements, what hardships it may present, nor in what direction it may lead you?" inquired the other. "Yes, sir. So long as you offer it I would accept it without question, even though it should be a commission to discover the North Pole." "My dear boy," said Mr. Hepburn, in an entirely different tone from that he had hitherto used, "I trust I may never forfeit nor abuse the confidence implied by these words. Although you did not know it, I have carefully watched every step of your career during the past five years, and while you have done some things, as well as developed some traits, that are to be regretted, I am satisfied that you are at least worthy of a trial in the position we desire to fill. So, if you are willing to relinquish your proposed trip around the world, and enter the employ of this company instead, you may consider yourself engaged for the term of one year from this date. During that time all your legitimate expenses will be met, but no salary will be paid you until the expiration of the year, when its amount will be determined by the value of the services you have rendered. Is that satisfactory?" "It is, sir," replied Cabot, "and with your permission I will at once telegraph Thorpe Walling that I cannot go with him." "Write your despatch here and I will have it sent out. At the same time, do not mention that you have entered the employ of this company, as there are reasons why, for the present at least, that should remain a secret." When Cabot's telegram was ready, Mr. Hepburn, who had been glancing through a number of letters that awaited his signature, handed it to his secretary, to whom he also gave some instructions that Cabot did not catch. As the former left the room, the president turned to our young engineer and said: "As perhaps you are aware, Cabot, there is at present an unprecedented demand all over the world for both iron and copper, and our company is largely interested in the production of these metals. As existing sources of supply are inadequate it is of importance that new ones should be discovered, and if they can be found on the Atlantic seaboard, so much the better. In looking about for new fields that may be profitably worked, our attention has been directed to the island of Newfoundland and the coast of Labrador. While the former has been partially explored, we desire more definite information as to its available ore beds. There is a small island in Conception Bay, not far from St. Johns, known as Bell Island, said to be a mass of iron ore, that is already being worked by a local company. From it I should like to have a report, as soon as you reach St. Johns, concerning the nature of the ore, the extent of the deposit, the cost of mining it, the present output, the facilities for shipment, and so forth. At the same time I want you to obtain this information without divulging the nature of your business, or allowing your name to become in any way connected with this company. "Having finished with Bell Island, you will visit such other portions of Newfoundland as are readily accessible from the coast, and seem to promise good results, always keeping to yourself the true nature of your business. Finally, you will proceed to Labrador, where you will make such explorations as are possible. You will report any discoveries in person, when you return to New York, as I do not care to have them entrusted to the mails. Above all, do not fail to bring back specimens of whatever you may find in the way of minerals. Are these instructions sufficiently clear?" "They seem so, sir." "Very well, then. I wish you to start this very day, as I find that a steamer, on which your passage is already engaged, sails from a Brooklyn pier for St. Johns this afternoon. This letter of credit, which only awaits your signature before a notary, will, if deposited with the bank of Nova Scotia in St. Johns, more than defray your year's expenses, and whatever you can save from it will be added to your salary. Therefore, it will pay you to practise economy, though you must not hesitate to incur legitimate expenses or to spend money when by so doing you can further the objects of your journey. You have enough money for your immediate needs, have you not?" "Yes, sir. I have about fifty dollars." "That will be ample, since your ticket to St. Johns is already paid for. Here it is." Thus saying, Mr. Hepburn handed over an envelope containing the steamship ticket that his secretary had been sent out to obtain. "I would take as little baggage as possible," he continued, "for you can purchase everything necessary in St. Johns, and will discover what you need after you get there. Now, good-bye, my boy. God bless you and bring you back in safety. Remember that the coming year will probably prove the most important of your life, and that your future now depends entirely upon yourself. Mr. Black here will go with you to the banker's, where you can sign your letter of credit." So our young engineer was launched on the sea of business life. Two hours later he had packed a dress-suit case and sent his trunk down to the company's building for storage. On his way to the steamer he stopped at his club for a bite of lunch, and as he was leaving the building he encountered the friend with whom he had discussed his plans the day before. "Hello!" exclaimed that individual, "where are you going in such a hurry. Not starting off on your year of travel, are you?" "Yes," laughed Cabot. "I am to sail within an hour. Good-bye!" With this he ran down the steps and jumped into a waiting cab. CHAPTER III. THE STRANGE FATE OF A STEAMER. So exciting had been the day, and so fully had its every minute been occupied, that not until Cabot stood on the deck of the steamer "Lavinia," curiously watching the bustling preparations for her departure, did he have time to realise the wonderful change in his prospects that had taken place within a few hours. That morning his life had seemed wholly aimless, and he had been filled with envy of those among his recent classmates whose services were in demand. Now he would not change places with any one of them; for was not he, too, entrusted with an important mission that held promise of a brilliant future in case he should carry it to a successful conclusion? [Illustration: On the deck of the steamer "Lavinia."] "And I will," he mentally resolved. "No matter what happens, if I live I will succeed." In spite of this brave resolve our lad could not help feeling rather forlorn as he watched those about him, all of whom seemed to have friends to see them off; while he alone stood friendless and unnoticed. Especially was his attention attracted to a nearby group of girls gathered about one who was evidently a bride. They were full of gay chatter, and he overheard one of them say: "If you come within sight of an iceberg, Nelly, make him go close to it so you can get a good photograph. I should like awfully to have one." "So should I," cried another. "But, oh! wouldn't it be lovely if we could only have a picture of this group, standing just as we are aboard the ship. It would make a splendid beginning for your camera." The bride, who, as Cabot saw, carried a small brand-new camera similar to one he had recently procured for his own use, promptly expressed her willingness to employ it as suggested, but was greeted by a storm of protests from her companions. "No, indeed! You must be in it of course!" they cried. Then it further transpired that all wished to be "in it," and no one wanted to act the part of photographer. At this juncture Cabot stepped forward, and lifting his cap, said: "I am somewhat of a photographer, and with your permission it would afford me great pleasure to take a picture of so charming a group." For a moment the girls looked at the presumptuous young stranger in silence. Then the bride, flushing prettily, stepped forward and handed him her camera, saying as she did so: "Thank you, sir, ever so much for your kind offer, which we are glad to accept." So Cabot arranged the group amid much laughter, and by the time two plates had been exposed, had made rapid progress towards getting acquainted with its several members. The episode was barely ended before all who were to remain behind were ordered ashore, and, a few minutes later, as the ship began to move slowly from her dock, our traveller found himself waving his handkerchief and shouting good-byes as vigorously as though all on the wharf were assembled for the express purpose of bidding him farewell. By the time the "Lavinia" was in the stream and headed up the East River, with her long voyage fairly begun, Cabot had learned that his new acquaintance was a bride of but a few hours, having been married that morning to the captain of that very steamer. She had hardly made this confession when her husband, temporarily relieved of his responsibilities by a pilot, came in search of her and was duly presented to our hero. His name was Phinney, and he so took to Cabot that from that moment the latter no longer found himself lonely or at a loss for occupation. As he had never before been at sea, the voyage proved full of interest, and his intelligent questions received equally intelligent answers from Captain Phinney, who was a well-informed young man but a few years older than Cabot, and an enthusiast in his calling. Up Long Island Sound went the "Lavinia," and it was late that night before our lad turned in, so interested was he in watching the many lights that were pointed out by his new acquaintance. The next morning found the ship threading her way amid the shoals of Nantucket Sound, after which came the open sea; and for the first time in his life Cabot lost sight of land. Halifax was reached on the following day, and here the steamer remained twenty-four hours discharging freight. The capital of Nova Scotia marks the half-way point between New York and St. Johns, Newfoundland, which name Cabot was already learning to pronounce as do its inhabitants--Newfund-_land_--and after leaving it the ship was again headed for the open across the wide mouth of the Gulf of St. Lawrence. Thus far the weather had been fine, the sea smooth, and nothing had occurred to break the pleasant monotony of the voyage. Its chief interests lay in sighting distant sails, the tell-tale smoke pennons of far-away steamers, the plume-like spoutings of sluggishly moving whales, the darting of porpoises about the ship's fore-foot, the wide circling overhead of gulls, or the dainty skimming just above the wave crests of Mother Carey's fluffy chickens. "Who was Mother Carey," asked Cabot, "and why are they her chickens?" "I have been told that she was the _Mater Cara_ of devout Portuguese sailors," replied Captain Phinney, "and that these tiny sea-fowl are supposed to be under her especial protection, since the fiercest of gales have no power to harm them." "How queerly names become changed and twisted out of their original shape," remarked Cabot meditatively. "The idea of _Mater Cara_ becoming Mother Carey!" "That is an easy change compared with some others I have run across," laughed the captain. "For instance, I once put up at an English seaport tavern called the 'Goat and Compasses,' and found out that its original name, given in Cromwell's time, had been 'God Encompasseth Us.' Almost as curious is the present name of that portion of the Newfoundland coast nearest us at this minute. It is called 'Ferryland,' which is a corruption of 'Verulam,' the name applied by its original owner, Lord Baltimore, in memory of his home estate in England. In fact, this region abounds in queerly twisted names, most of which were originally French. Bai d'espair, for instance, has become Bay Despair. Blanc Sablon and Isle du Bois up on the Labrador coast have been Anglicised as Nancy Belong and Boys' Island. Cape Race, which is almost within sight, was the Capo Razzo of its Portuguese discoverer. Cape Spear was Cappo Sperenza, and Pointe l'Amour is now Lammer's Point." While taking part in conversations of this kind both Cabot and Mrs. Phinney, who were the only passengers now left on the ship, kept a sharp lookout for icebergs, which, as they had learned, were apt to be met in those waters at that season. Finally, during the afternoon of the last day they expected to spend on shipboard, a distant white speck dead ahead, which was at first taken for a sail, proved to be an iceberg, and from that moment it was watched with the liveliest curiosity. Before their rapid approach it developed lofty pinnacles, and proved of the most dazzling whiteness, save at the water line, where it was banded with vivid blue. It was exquisitely chiselled and carved into dainty forms by the gleaming rivulets that ran down its steep sides and fell into the sea as miniature cascades. So wonderfully beautiful were the icy details as they were successively unfolded, that the bride begged her husband to take his ship just as close as possible, in order that she might obtain a perfect photograph. Anxious to gratify her every wish, Captain Phinney readily consented, and the ship's course was slightly altered, so as to pass within one hundred feet of the glistening monster, which was now sharply outlined against a dark bank of fog rolling heavily in from the eastward. Both cameras had been kept busy from the time the berg came within range of their finders, but just as the best point of view was reached, and when they were so near that the chill of the ice was distinctly felt, Cabot discovered that he had exhausted his roll of films. Uttering an exclamation of disgust, he ran aft and down to his stateroom, that opened from the lower saloon, to secure another cartridge. As he entered the room, he closed its door to get at his dress-suit case that lay behind it. Recklessly tossing the contents of the case right and left, he had just laid hands on the desired object and was rising to his feet when, without warning, he was flung violently to the floor by a shock like that of an earthquake. It was accompanied by a dull roar and an awful sound of crashing and rending. At the same time the ship seemed to be lifted bodily. Then she fell back, apparently striking on her side, and for several minutes rolled with sickening lurches, as though in the trough of a heavy sea. In the meantime Cabot was struggling furiously to open his stateroom door; but it had so jammed in its casing that his utmost efforts failed to move it. The steel deck beams overhead were twisted like willow wands, the iron side of the ship was crumpled as though it were a sheet of paper, and with every downward lurch a torrent of icy water poured in about the air port, which, though still closed, had been wrenched out of position. With a horrid dread the prisoner realised that unless quickly released he must drown where he was, and, unable to open the door, he began to kick at it with the hope of smashing one of its panels. [Illustration: He began to kick at it with the hope of smashing one of its panels.] With his first effort in this direction there came another muffled roar like that of an explosion, and he felt the ship quiver as though it were being rent in twain. At the same moment his door flew open of its own accord, and he was nearly suffocated by an inrush of steam. Springing forward, and blindly groping his way through this, the bewildered lad finally reached the stairs he had so recently descended. In another minute he had gained the deck, where he stood gasping for breath and vainly trying to discover what terrible thing had happened. Not a human being was to be seen, and the forward part of the ship was concealed beneath a dense cloud of steam and smoke that hung over it like a pall. Cabot fancied he could distinguish shouting in that direction, and attempted to gain the point from which it seemed to come; but found the way barred by a yawning opening in the deck, from which poured smoke and flame as though it were the crater of a volcano. Then he ran back, and at length found himself on top of the after house, cutting with his pocket knife at the lashings of a life raft; for he realised that the ship was sinking so rapidly that she might plunge to the bottom at any moment. Five minutes later he lay prone on the buoyant raft, clutching the sides of its wooden platform, while it spun like a storm-driven leaf in the vortex marking the spot where the ill-fated. "Lavinia" had sunk. CHAPTER IV. ALONE ON THE LIFE RAFT. Anything less buoyant than a modern life raft, consisting of two steel cylinders stoutly braced and connected by a wooden platform, would have been drawn under by the deadly clutch of that swirling vortex. No open boat could have lived in it for a minute; and even the raft, spinning round and round with dizzy velocity, was sucked downward until it was actually below the level of the surrounding water. But, sturdily resisting the down-dragging force, its wonderful buoyancy finally triumphed, and as its rotary motion became less rapid, Cabot sat up and gazed about him with the air of one who has been stunned. He was dazed by the awfulness of the catastrophe that had so suddenly overwhelmed the "Lavinia," and could form no idea of its nature. Had there been a collision? If so, it must have been with the iceberg, for nothing else had been in sight when he went below. Yet it was incredible that such a thing could have happened in broad daylight. The afternoon had been clear and bright; of that he was certain, though his surroundings were now shrouded by an impenetrable veil of fog. Through this he could see nothing, and from it came no sound save the moan of winds sweeping across a limitless void of waters. What had become of his recent companions? Had they gone down with the ship, and was he sole survivor of the tragedy? At this thought the lad sprang to his feet, and shouted, calling his friends by name, and begging them not to leave him; but the only answer came in shape of mocking echoes hurled sharply back from close at hand. Looking in that direction, he dimly discerned a vast outline of darker substance than the enveloping mist. From it came also a sound of falling waters, and against it the sea was beating angrily. At the same time he was conscious of a deadly chill in the air, and came to a sudden comprehension that the iceberg, to which he attributed all his present distress, was still close at hand. Its mere presence brought a new terror; for he knew that unless the attraction of its great bulk could be overcome, his little raft must speedily be drawn to it and dashed helplessly against its icy cliffs. This thought filled him with a momentary despair, for there seemed no possibility of avoiding the impending fate. Then his eyes fell on a pair of oars lashed, together with their metal rowlocks, to the sides of his raft. In another minute he had shipped these and was pulling with all his might away from that ill-omened neighbourhood. The progress of his clumsy craft was painfully slow; but it did move, and at the end the dreaded ice monster was beyond both sight and hearing. The exercise of rowing had warmed Cabot as well as temporarily diverted his mind from a contemplation of the terrible scenes through which he had so recently passed. Now, however, as he rested on his oars, a full sense of his wretched plight came back to him, and he grew sick at heart as he realised how forlorn was his situation. He wondered if he could survive the night that was rapidly closing in on him, and, if he did, whether the morrow would find him any better off. He had no idea of the direction in which wind and current were drifting him, whether further out to sea or towards the land. He was again shivering with cold, he was hungry and thirsty, and so filled with terror at the black waters leaping towards him from all sides that he finally flung himself face downward on the wet platform to escape from seeing them. When he next lifted his head he found himself in utter darkness, through which he fancied he could still hear the sound of waters dashing against frigid cliffs, and with an access of terror he once more sprang to his oars. Now he rowed with the wind, keeping it as directly astern as possible; nor did he pause in his efforts until compelled by exhaustion. Then he again lay down, and this time dropped into a fitful doze. Waking a little later with chattering teeth, he resumed his oars for the sake of warming exercise, and again rowed as long as he was able. So, with alternating periods of weary work and unrefreshing rest, the slow dragging hours of that interminable night were spent. Finally, after he had given up all hope of ever again seeing a gleam of sunshine, a faint gray began to permeate the fog that still held him in its wet embrace, and Cabot knew that he had lived to see the beginnings of another day. To make sure that the almost imperceptible light really marked the dawn, he shut his eyes and resolutely kept them closed until he had counted five hundred. Then he opened them, and almost screamed with the joy of being able to trace the outlines of his raft. Again and again he did this until at length the black night shadows had been fairly vanquished and only those of the fog remained. With the assurance that day had fairly come, and that the dreaded iceberg was at least not close at hand, Cabot again sought forgetfulness of his misery in sleep. When he awoke some hours later, aching in every bone, and painfully hungry, he was also filled with a delicious sense of warmth; for the sun, already near its meridian, was shining as brightly as though no such things as fog or darkness had ever existed. On standing up and looking about him, the young castaway was relieved to note that the iceberg from which he had suffered so much was no longer in sight. At the same time he was grievously disappointed that he could discover no sail nor other token that any human being save himself was abroad on all that lonely sea. He experienced a momentary exhilaration when, on turning to the west, he discovered a dark far-reaching line that he believed to be land; but his spirits fell as he measured the distance separating him from it, and realised how slight a chance he had of ever gaining the coast. To be sure, the light breeze then blowing was in that direction, but it might change at any moment; and even with it to aid his rowing he doubted if his clumsy craft could make more than a mile an hour. Thus darkness would again overtake him ere he had covered more than half the required distance, though he should row steadily during the remainder of the day. He knew that his growing weakness would demand intervals of rest with ever-increasing frequency until utter exhaustion should put an end to his efforts; and then what would become of him? Still there was nothing else to be done; and, with a dogged determination to die fighting, if die he must, the poor lad sat down and resumed his hopeless task. A life raft is not intended to be used as a rowboat, and is unprovided with either seats or foot braces. Being thus compelled to sit on the platform, Cabot could get so little purchase that half his effort was wasted, and the progress made was barely noticeable. During his frequent pauses for rest he stood up to gaze longingly at the goal that still appeared as far away as ever, and grew more unattainable as the day wore on. At length the sun was well down the western sky, across which it appeared to race as never before. As Cabot watched it, and vaguely wished for the power once given to Joshua, the bleakness of despair suddenly enfolded him, and his eyes became blurred with tears. He covered them with his hands to shut out the mocking sunlight, and sat down because he was too weak to stand any longer. He had fought his fight very nearly to a finish, and his strength was almost gone. He had perhaps brought his craft five miles nearer to the land than it was when he set out; but after all what had been the gain? Apparently there was none, and he would not further torture his aching body with useless effort. In the meantime a small schooner, bringing with her a fair wind, was running rapidly down the coast, not many miles from where our poor lad so despairingly awaited the coming of night. That he had not seen her while standing up, was owing to the fact that her sails, instead of being white, were tanned a dull red, that blended perfectly with the colour of the distant shore line. A bright-faced, resolute chap, somewhat younger than Cabot, but of equally sturdy build, held the tiller, and regarded with evident approval the behaviour of his speeding craft. "We'll make it, Dave," he cried, cheerily. "The old 'Sea Bee's' got the wings of 'em this time." "Mebbe so," growled the individual addressed, an elderly man who stood in the companionway, with his head just above the hatch, peering forward under the swelling sails. "Mebbe so," he repeated, "and mebbe not. Steam's hard to beat on land or water, an' we be a far cry from Pretty Harbour yet. So fur that ef they're started they'll overhaul us before day, and beat us in by a good twelve hour. It's what I'm looking fur." "Oh, pshaw!" replied the young skipper. "What a gammy old croaker you are. They won't start to-day, anyhow. But here, take her a minute, while I go aloft for one more look before sundown to make sure." As the man complied with this request, and waddling aft took the tiller, his more active companion sprang into the main rigging and ran rapidly to the masthead, from which point of vantage he gazed back for a full minute over the course they had come. "Not a sign," he shouted down at length. "But hello," he added to himself, "what's that?" With a glance seaward his keen eye had detected a distant floating object that was momentarily uplifted on the back of a long swell, and flashed white in the rays of the setting sun. "Luff her, David! Hard down with your hellum, and trim in all," he shouted to the steersman. "There, steady, so." "Wot's hup?" inquired the man a few minutes later, as the other rejoined him on deck. "Don't know for sure; but there's something floating off there that looks like a bit of wreckage." "An' you, with all your hurry, going to stop fur a closer look, and lose time that'll mebbe prove the most wallyable of your life," growled the man disgustedly. "Wal, I'll be jiggered!" "So would I, if I didn't," replied the lad. "It was one of dad's rules never to pass any kind of a wreck without at least one good look at it, and so it's one of mine as well. There's what I'm after, now. See, just off the starboard bow. It's a raft, and David, there's a man on it, sure as you live. Look, he's standing up and waving at us. Now, he's down again! Poor fellow! In with the jib, David! Spry now, and stand by with a line. I'm going to round up, right alongside." CHAPTER V. WHITE BALDWIN AND HIS "SEA BEE." The hour that preceded the coming of that heaven-sent schooner was the blackest of Cabot Grant's life, and as he sat with bowed head on the wet platform of his tossing raft he was utterly hopeless. He believed that he should never again hear a human voice nor tread the blessed land--yes, everything was ended for him, or very nearly so, and whatever record he had made in life must now stand without addition or correction. His thoughts went back as far as he could remember anything, and every act of his life was clearly recalled. How mean some of them now appeared; how thoughtless, indifferent, or selfish he had been in others. Latterly how he had been filled with a sense of his own importance, how he had worked and schemed for a little popularity, and now who would regret him, or give his memory more than a passing thought? Thorpe Walling would say: "Served him right for throwing me over, as he did," and others would agree with him. Even Mr. Hepburn, who had doubtless given him a chance merely because he was his guardian, would easily find a better man to put in his place. Some cousins whom he had never seen nor cared to know would rejoice on coming into possession of his little property; and so, on the whole, his disappearance would cause more of satisfaction than regret. Most bitter of all was the thought that he would never have the opportunity of changing, or at least of trying to change, this state of affairs, since he had doubtless looked at the sun for the last time, and the blackness of an endless night was about to enfold him. Had he really seen his last ray of sunlight and hope? No; it could not be. There must be a gleam left. The sun could not have set yet. He lifted his head. There was no sun to be seen. With a cry of terror he sprang to his feet, and, from the slight elevation thus gained, once more beheld the mighty orb of day, and life, and promise, crowning with a splendour infinitely beyond anything of this earth, the distant shore-line that he had striven so stoutly to gain. Dazzled by its radiance, Cabot saw nothing else during the minute that it lingered above the horizon. Then, as it disappeared, he uttered another cry, but this time it was one of incredulous and joyful amazement, for close at hand, coming directly towards him from out the western glory, was a ship bearing a new lease of life and freighted with new opportunities. The poor lad tried to wave his cap at the new-comers; but after a feeble attempt sank to his knees, overcome by weakness and gratitude. It was in that position they found him as the little schooner was rounded sharply into the wind, and, with fluttering sails, lay close alongside the drifting raft. David flung a line that Cabot found strength to catch and hold to, while the young skipper of the "Sea Bee" sprang over her low rail and alighted beside the castaway just as the latter staggered to his feet with outstretched hand. The stranger grasped it tightly in both of his, and for a moment the two gazed into each other's eyes without a word. Cabot tried to speak, but something choked him so that he could not; and, noting this, the other said gently: "It is all over now, and you are as safe as though you stood on dry land; so don't try to say anything till we've made you comfortable, for I know you must have had an almighty hard time." "Yes," whispered Cabot. "I've been hungry, and thirsty, and wet, and cold, and scared; but now I'm only grateful--more grateful than I can ever tell." A little later the life raft, its mission accomplished, was left to toss and drift at will, while the "Sea Bee," with everything set and drawing finely, was rapidly regaining her course, guided by the far-reaching flash of Cape Race light. In her dingy little cabin, which seemed to our rescued lad the most delightfully snug, warm, and altogether comfortable place he had ever entered, Cabot lay in the skipper's own bunk, regarding with intense interest the movements of that busy youth. The latter had lighted a swinging lamp, started a fire in a small and very rusty galley stove, set a tea kettle on to boil, and a pan of cold chowder to re-warm. Having thus got supper well under way, he returned to the cabin, where he proceeded to set the table. The worst of Cabot's distress had already been relieved by a cup of cold tea and a ship's biscuit. Now, finding that he was able to talk, his host could no longer restrain his curiosity, but began to ask questions. He had already learned Cabot's name, and told his own, which was Whiteway Baldwin, "called White for short," he had added. Now he said: "You needn't talk, if you don't feel like it, but I do wish you could tell how you came to be drifting all alone on that raft." "A steamer that I was on was wrecked yesterday, and so far as I know I am the only survivor," answered Cabot. "Goodness! You don't say so! What steamer was she, where was she bound, and what part of the coast was she wrecked on?" "She was the 'Lavinia' from New York for St. Johns, and she wasn't wrecked on any part of the coast, but was lost at sea." "_Jiminetty_! The 'Lavinia'! It don't seem possible. How did it happen? There hasn't been any gale. Did she blow up, or what?" "I don't know," replied Cabot, "for I was down-stairs when it took place, and my stateroom door was jammed so that I couldn't get out for a long time. I only know that there was the most awful crash I ever heard, and it seemed as though the ship were being torn to pieces. Then there came an explosion, and when I got on deck the ship was sinking so fast that I had only time to cut loose the raft before she went down." "What became of the others?" asked White excitedly. "I am afraid they were drowned, for I heard them shouting just before she sank, but there was such a cloud of steam, smoke, and fog that I couldn't see a thing, and after it was all over I seemed to be the only one left." "Wasn't there a rock or ship or anything she might have run into?" asked the young skipper, whose tanned face had grown pale as he listened to this tale of sudden disaster. "There was an iceberg," replied Cabot, "but when I went down-stairs it wasn't very close, and the sun was shining, so that it was in plain sight." "That must be what she struck, though," declared the other. Then he thrust his head up the companionway and shouted: "Hear the news, Dave. The 'Lavinia's' lost with all on board, except the chap we've just picked up." "What happened her?" asked the man laconically. "He says she ran into an iceberg in clear day, bust up, and sank with all hands, inside of a minute." "Rot!" replied the practical sailor. "The 'Laviny' had collision bulkheads, and couldn't have sunk in no sich time, ef she could at all. 'Sides Cap'n Phinney ain't no man to run down a berg in clear day, nor yet in the night, nor no other time. He's been on this coast and the Labrador run too long fur any sich foolishness. No, son, ef the 'Laviny's' lost, which mind, I don't say she ain't, she's lost some other way 'sides that, an' you can tell your friend so with my compliments." Cabot did not overhear these remarks, and wondered at the queer look on the young skipper's face when he reëntered the cabin, as he did at the silence with which the latter resumed his preparations for supper. At the same time he was still too weak, and, in spite of his biscuit, too ravenously hungry to care for further conversation just then. So it was only after a most satisfactory meal and several cups of very hot tea that he was ready in his turn to ask questions. But he was not given the chance; for, as soon as White Baldwin was through with eating, he went on dock to relieve the tiller, and the other member of the crew, whose name was David Gidge, came below. He was a man of remarkable appearance, of very broad shoulders and long arms; but with legs so bowed outward as to materially lower his stature, which would have been short at best, and convert his gait into an absurd waddle. His face was disfigured by a scar across one cheek that so drew that corner of his mouth downward as to produce a peculiarly forbidding expression. He also wore a bristling iron-grey beard that grew in form of a fringe or ruff, and added an air of ferocity to his make up. As this striking-looking individual entered the cabin and rolled into a seat at the table, he cast one glance, accompanied by a grunt, at Cabot, and then proceeded to attend strictly to the business in hand. He ate in such prodigious haste, and gulped his food in such vast mouthfuls, that he had cleaned the table of its last crumb, and was fiercely stuffing black tobacco into a still blacker pipe, before Cabot, who really wished to talk with him, had decided how to open the conversation. Lighting his pipe and puffing it into a ruddy glow, Mr. Gidge made a waddling exit from the cabin, bestowing on our lad another grunt as he passed him, and leaving an eddying wake of rank tobacco smoke to mark his passage. For some time after this episode Cabot struggled to keep awake in the hope that White would return and answer some of his questions; but finally weariness overcame him, and he fell into a sleep that lasted without a break until after sunrise of the following morning. In the meantime the little schooner had held her course, and swept onward past the flashing beacons of Cape Race, Cape Pine, and Cape St. Mary, until, at daylight, she was standing across the broad reach of Placentia Bay towards the bald headland of Cape Chapeau Rouge. She was making a fine run, and in spite of his weariness after a six hours' watch on deck, White Baldwin presented a cheery face to Cabot, as the latter vainly strove to recognise and account for his surroundings. "Good morning," said the young skipper, "I hope you have slept well, and are feeling all right again." "Yes, thank you," replied Cabot, suddenly remembering, "I slept splendidly, and am as fit as a fiddle. Have we made a good run?" "Fine; we have come nearly a hundred miles from the place where we picked you up." "Then we must be almost to St. Johns," suggested Cabot, tumbling from his bunk as he spoke. "I am glad, for it is important that I should get there as quickly as possible." "St. Johns!" replied the other blankly. "Didn't you know that we had come from St. Johns, and were going in the opposite direction? Why, we are more than one hundred and fifty miles from there at this minute." CHAPTER VI. THE FRENCH SHORE QUESTION. Although Cabot had had no reason to suppose that the "Sea Bee" was on her way to St. Johns, it had not for a moment occurred to him that she could be going anywhere else. Thus the news that they were not only a long way from the place he wished to reach, but steadily increasing their distance from it, so surprised him that for a moment he sat on the edge of his bunk gazing at the speaker as though doubting if he had heard aright. Finally he asked: "Where, then, are we bound?" "To Pretty Harbour, around on the west coast, where I live," was the answer. "I'd be willing to give you fifty dollars to turn around and carry me to St. Johns," said Cabot. "Couldn't do it if you offered me a hundred, much as I need the money, and glad as I would be to oblige you, for I've got to get home in a hurry if I want to find any home to get to. You see, it's this way," continued White, noting Cabot's look of inquiry, "Pretty Harbour being on the French shore----" "What do you mean by the French shore?" interrupted Cabot. "I thought you lived in Newfoundland, and that it was an English island." "So it is," explained White; "but, for some reason or other, I don't know why, England made a treaty with France nearly two hundred years ago, by which the French were granted fishing privileges from Cape Bay along the whole west coast to Cape Bauld, and from there down the east coast as far as Cape St. John. By another treaty made some years afterwards France was granted, for her own exclusive use, the islands of Miquelon and St. Pierre, that lie just ahead of us now. "In the meantime the French have been allowed to do pretty much as they pleased with the west coast, until now they claim exclusive rights to its fisheries, and will hardly allow us natives to catch what we want for our own use. They send warships to enforce their demands, and these compel us to sell bait to French fishermen at such price as they choose to offer. Why, I have seen men forced to sell bait to the French at thirty cents a barrel, when Canadian and American fishing boats wore offering five times that much for it. At the same time the French officers forbid us to sell to any but Frenchmen, declaring that if we do they will not only prevent us from fishing, but will destroy our nets." "I should think you would call on English warships for protection," said Cabot. "There surely must be some on this station." "Yes," replied the other, bitterly, "there are, but they always take the part of the French, and do even more than they towards breaking up our business." "What?" cried Cabot. "British warships take part with the French against their own people! That is one of the strangest things I ever heard of, and I can't understand it. Is not this an English colony?" "Yes, it is England's oldest colony; but, while I was born in it, and have lived here all my life, I don't understand the situation any better than you." "It seems to me," continued Cabot, "that the conditions here must be fully as bad as those that led to the American Revolution, and I should think you Newfoundlanders would rebel, and set up a government of your own, or join the United States, or do something of that kind." "Perhaps we would if we could," replied White; "but our country is only a poor little island, with a population of less than a quarter of a million. If we should rebel, we would have to fight both England and France. We should have to do it without help, too, for the United States, which is the only country we desire to join, does not want us. So you see there is nothing for us to do but accept the situation, and get along as best we can." "Why don't you emigrate to the States?" suggested Cabot. "Plenty of people whom I know have done so," replied the young Newfoundlander, "and I might, too, if it were not for my mother and sister; but I don't know how I could make a living for them in the States, or even for myself. You see, everything we have in the world is tied up right here. Besides, it would be hard to leave one's own country and go to live among strangers. Don't you think so?" "How do you make a living here?" asked Cabot, ignoring the last question. "We have made it until now by canning lobsters; but it looks as though even that business was to be stopped from this on." "Why? Is it wrong to can lobsters?" "On the French shore, it seems to be one of the greatest crimes a person can commit, worse even than smuggling, and the chief duty of British warships on this station is to break it up." "Well, that beats all!" exclaimed Cabot. "Why is canning lobsters considered so wicked?" "I don't know that I can explain it very clearly," replied the young skipper of the "Sea Bee," "but, so far as I can make out, it is this way: You see, the west coast of Newfoundland is one of the best places in the world for lobsters. So when the settlers there found they were not allowed to make a living by fishing, they turned their attention to catching and canning them. They thought, of course, that in this they would not be molested, since the French right was only to take and dry fish, which, in this country, means only codfish. They were so successful at the new business that after a while the French also began to establish lobster canneries. As no one interfered with them they finally became so bold as to order the closing of all factories except their own, and to actually destroy the property of such English settlers as were engaged in the business. Then there were riots, and we colonists appealed to Parliament for protection in our rights." "Of course they granted it," said Cabot, who was greatly interested. "Of course they did nothing of the kind," responded White, bitterly. "The English authorities only remonstrated gently with the French, who by that time were claiming an exclusive right to all the business of the west coast, and finally it was agreed to submit the whole question to arbitration. It has never yet been arbitrated, though that was some years ago. In the meantime an arrangement was made by which all lobster factories in existence on July 1, 1889, were allowed to continue their business, but no others might be established." "Was your factory one of those then in existence?" asked Cabot. "It was completed, and ready to begin work a whole month before that date; but the captain of a French frigate told my father that if he canned a single lobster his factory would be destroyed. Father appealed to the commander of a British warship for protection; but was informed that none could be given, and that if he persisted in the attempt to operate his factory his own countrymen would be compelled to aid the French in its destruction. On that, father went to law, but it was not until the season was ended that the British captain was found to have had no authority for his action. So father sued him for damages, and obtained judgment for five thousand dollars. He never got the money, though, and by the time the next season came round the law regarding factories in existence on the first of the previous July was in force. Then the question came up, whether or no our factory had been in existence at that time. The French claim that it was not, because no work had been done in it, while we claim that, but for illegal interference, work would have been carried on for a full month before the fixed date." "How was the question settled?" asked Cabot. "It was not settled until a few days ago, when a final decision was rendered against us, and now the property is liable to be destroyed at any minute. Father fought the case until it worried him to death, and mother has been fighting it ever since. All our property, except the factory itself, this schooner, and a few hundred acres of worthless land, has gone to the lawyers. While they have fought over the case, I have made a sort of a living for the family by running the factory at odd times, when there was no warship at hand to prevent. This season promises to be one of the best for lobsters ever known, and we had so nearly exhausted our supply of cans that I went to St. Johns for more. While there I got private information that the suit had gone against us, and that the commander of the warship 'Comattus,' then in port, had received orders to destroy our factory during his annual cruise along the French shore. The 'Comattus' was to start as soon as the 'Lavinia' arrived. The minute I heard this I set out in a hurry for home, in the hope of having time to pack the extra cases I have on board this schooner, and get them out of the way before the warship arrives. That is one reason I am in such a hurry, and can't spare the time to take you to St. Johns. I wouldn't even have stopped long enough to investigate your raft if you had been a mile further off our course than you were." "Then all my yesterday's rowing didn't go for nothing," said Cabot. "I should say not. It was the one thing that saved you, so far as this schooner is concerned. I'm in a hurry for another reason, too. If the French get word that a decision has been rendered against us, and that the factory is to be destroyed, they will pounce down on it in a jiffy, and carry away everything worth taking, to one of their own factories." "I don't wonder you are in a hurry," said Cabot. "I know I should be, in your place, and I don't blame you one bit for not wanting to take me back to St. Johns; but I wish you would tell me the next best way of getting there. You see, having lost everything in the way of an outfit it is necessary for me to procure a new one. Besides that and the business I have on hand, it seems to me that, as the only survivor of the 'Lavinia,' I ought to report her loss as soon as possible." "Yes," agreed White, "of course you ought; though the longer it is unknown the longer the 'Comattus' will wait for her, and the more time I shall have." "Provided some French ship doesn't get after you," suggested Cabot. "Yes, I realise that, and as I am going to stop at St. Pierre, to sec whether the frigate 'Isla' is still in that harbour, I might set you ashore there. From St. Pierre you can get a steamer for St. Johns, and even if you have to wait a few days you could telegraph your news as quickly as you please." "All right," agreed Cabot. "I shall be sorry to leave you; but if that is the best plan you can think of I will accept it, and shall be grateful if you will set me ashore as soon as possible." Thus it was settled, and a few hours later the "Sea Bee" poked her nose around Gallantry Head, and ran into the picturesque, foreign-looking port of St. Pierre. The French frigate "Isla," that had more than once made trouble for the Baldwins, lay in the little harbour, black and menacing. Hoping not to be recognized, White gave her as wide a berth as possible; but he had hardly dropped anchor when a boat--containing an officer, and manned by six sailors--shot out from her side, and was pulled directly towards the schooner. CHAPTER VII. DEFYING A FRIGATE. "I wonder what's up now?" said White Baldwin, in a troubled tone, as he watched the approaching man-of-war's boat. "Mischief of some kind," growled David Gidge, as he spat fiercely into the water. "I hain't never knowed a Frencher to be good fur nawthin' else but mischief." "Perhaps it's a health officer," suggested Cabot. "It's worse than that," replied White. "A customs officer, then?" "He comes from the shore." "Then perhaps it's an invitation for us to go and dine with the French captain?" "I've no doubt it's an invitation of some kind, and probably one that is meant to be accepted." At this juncture the French boat dashed alongside, and, without leaving his place, the lieutenant in command said in fair English: "Is not zat ze boat of Monsieur Baldwin of Pretty Harbour on ze côte Française?" "It is," replied the young skipper, curtly. "You haf, of course, ze papaire of health, and ze papaire of clearance for St. Pierre?" "No; I have no papers except a certificate of registry." "Ah! Is it possible? In zat case ze commandant of ze frigate 'Isla' will be please to see you on board at your earlies' convenience." "I thought so," said White, in a low tone. Then aloud, he replied: "All right, lieutenant. I'll sail over there, and hunt up a good place to anchor, just beyond your ship, and as soon as I've made all snug I'll come aboard. Up with your mud hook, Dave." As Mr. Gidge began to work the windlass, Cabot sprang to help him, and, within a minute, the recently dropped anchor was again broken out. Then, at a sharp order, David hoisted and trimmed the jib, leaving Cabot to cat the anchor. The fore and main sails had not been lowered. Thus within two minutes' time the schooner was again under way, and standing across the harbour towards the big warship. The rapidity of these movements apparently somewhat bewildered the French officer, who, while narrowly watching them, did not utter a word of remonstrance. Now, as the "Sea Bee" moved away, his boat was started in the same direction. Without paying any further attention to it, White Baldwin luffed his little craft across the frigate's bow, and the moment he was hidden beyond her, bore broad away, passing close along the opposite side of the warship, from which hundreds of eyes watched his movements with languid curiosity. The boat, in the meantime, had headed for the stern of the frigate, with a view to gaining her starboard gangway, somewhere near which its officer supposed White to be already anchoring. What was his amazement, therefore, as he drew within the shadow of his ship, to see the schooner shoot clear of its further side, and go flying down the wind, lee rail under. For a moment he looked to see her round to and come to anchor. Then, springing to his feet, he yelled for her to do so; upon which White Baldwin took off his cap, and made a mocking bow. At this the enraged officer whipped out a revolver, and began to fire wildly in the direction of the vanishing schooner, which, for answer, displayed a British Union Jack at her main peak. Three minutes later the saucy craft had rounded a projecting headland and disappeared, leaving the outwitted officer to get aboard his ship at his leisure, and make such report as seemed to him best. [Illustration: At this the enraged officer whipped out a revolver.] After the exciting incident was ended, and the little "Sea Bee" had gained the safety of open water, Cabot grasped the young skipper's hand and shook it heartily. "It was fine!" he cried, "though I don't see how you dared do it. Weren't you afraid they would fire at us?" "Not a bit," laughed White. "They didn't realise what we were up to until we were well past them, and then they hadn't time to get ready before we were out of range. I don't believe they would dare fire on the British flag, anyway; especially as we hadn't done a thing to them. I almost wish they had, though; for I would be willing to lose this schooner and a good deal besides for the sake of bringing on a war that should drive the French from Newfoundland." "But what did they want of you, and what would have happened if you had not given them the slip?" "I expect they wanted to hold me here until they heard how our case had gone, so that I couldn't get back to the factory before they had a chance to run up there and seize it. Like as not they would have kept us on one excuse or another--lack of papers or something of that sort--for a week or two, and by the time they let us go some one else would have owned the Pretty Harbour lobster factory." "Would they really have dared do such a thing?" asked Cabot, to whom the idea of foreign interference in the local affairs of Newfoundland was entirely new. "Certainly they would. The French dare do anything they choose on this coast, and no one interferes." "Well," said Cabot, "it seems a very curious situation, and one that a stranger finds hard to understand. However, so long as the French possess such a power for mischief, I congratulate you more than ever on having escaped them. At the same time I am disappointed at not being able to land at St. Pierre, and should like to know where you are going to take me next." "I declare! In my hurry to get out of that trap, I forgot all about you wanting to land," exclaimed White, "and now there isn't a place from which you can get to St. Johns short of Port aux Basques, which is about one hundred and fifty miles west of here." "How may I reach St. Johns from there?" "By the railway across the island, of which Port aux Basques is the terminus. A steamer from Sidney, on Cape Breton, connects with a train there every other day." "Very good; Port aux Basques it is," agreed Cabot, "and I shan't be sorry after all for a chance to cross the island by train and see what its interior looks like." So our young engineer continued his involuntary voyage, and devoted his time to acquiring all sorts of information about the great northern island, as well as to the study of navigation. In this latter line of research he even succeeded in producing a favorable impression upon David Gidge, who finally admitted that it wasn't always safe to judge a man from his appearance, and that this young feller had more in him than showed at first sight. While thus creating a favorable impression for himself, Cabot grew much interested in the young skipper of the schooner. He was surprised to find one in his position so gentlemanly a chap, as well as so generally well informed, and wondered where he had picked it all up. "Are there good schools at Pretty Harbour?" he asked, with a view to solving this problem. "There is one, but it is only fairly good," answered White. "Did you go to it?" "Oh, no," laughed the other. "I went to school as well as to college in St. Johns. You see, father was a merchant there until he bought a great tract of land on the west coast. Then he gave up his business in the city and came over here to establish a lobster factory, which at that time promised to pay better than anything else on the island. He left us all in St. Johns, and it was only after his death that we came over here to live and try to save something from the wreck of his property. Now I don't know what is to become of us; for, unless one is allowed to can lobsters, there isn't much chance of making a living on the French shore. If it wasn't for the others, I should take this schooner and try a trading trip to Labrador, but mother has become so much of an invalid that I hate to leave her with only my sister." "What is your sister's name?" "Cola." "That's an odd name, and one I never heard before, but I think I like it." "So do I," agreed White; "though I expect I should like any name belonging to her, for she is a dear girl. One reason I am so fond of this schooner is because it is named for her." "How is that?" "Why, it is the 'Sea Bee,' and these are her initials." It was early on the second morning after leaving St. Pierre that the "Sea Bee" drifted slowly into the harbour of Port aux Basques, where the yacht-like steamer "Bruce" lay beside its single wharf. She had just completed her six-hour run across Cabot Strait, from North Sidney, eighty-five miles away, and close at hand stood the narrow-gauge train that was to carry her passengers and mails to St. Johns. It would occupy twenty-eight hours in making the run of 550 miles from coast to coast, and our lad looked forward to the trip with pleasant anticipations. But he was again doomed to disappointment; for while the schooner was still at some distance from the wharf, the train was seen to be in motion. In vain did Cabot shout and wave his cap. No attention was paid to his signals, and a minute later the train had disappeared. There would not be another for two days, and the young engineer gazed about him with dismay. Port aux Basques appeared to be only a railway terminus, offering no accommodation for travellers, and presenting, with its desolate surroundings, a scene of cheerless inhospitality. "That's what I call tough luck!" exclaimed White Baldwin, sympathetically. "Isn't it?" responded Cabot; "and what I am to do with myself in this dreary place after you are gone, I can't imagine." "Seems to me you'd better stay right where you are, and run up the coast with us to St. George's Bay, where there is another station at which you can take the next train." "I should like to," replied Cabot, "if you would allow me to pay for my passage; but I don't want to impose upon your hospitality any longer." "Nonsense!" exclaimed White. "You are already doing your full share of the work aboard here, and even if you weren't of any help, I should be only too happy to have you stay with us until the end of the run, for the pleasure of your company." "That settles it," laughed Cabot. "I will go with you as far as St. George's, and be glad of the chance. But, while we are here, I think I ought to send in the news about the 'Lavinia.'" As White agreed that this should be done at once, Cabot was set ashore, and made his way to the railway telegraph office, where he asked the operator to whom in St. Johns he should send the news of a wreck. "What wreck?" asked the operator. "Steamer 'Lavinia.'" "There's no need to send that to anybody, for it's old news, and went through here last night as a press despatch. 'Lavinia' went too close to an iceberg, that capsized, and struck her with long, under-water projection. Lifted steamer from water, broke her back, boiler exploded, and that was the end of 'Lavinia.' Mate's boat reached St. Johns, and 'Comattus' has gone to look for other possible survivors." As Cabot had nothing to add to this story, he merely sent a short despatch to Mr. Hepburn, announcing his own safety, and then returned to the schooner with his news. "Good!" exclaimed White, when he heard it. "I hope the 'Comattus' will find those she has gone to look for; and I'm mighty glad she has got something to do that will keep her away from here for a few days longer. Now, Dave, up with the jib." CHAPTER VIII. A CLASSMATE TO BE AVOIDED. Cabot had been impressed by the rugged scenery of the Nova Scotia shore line, but it had been tame as compared with the stern grandeur of that unfolded when the "Sea Bee" rounded Cape Ray and was headed up the west coast of Newfoundland. He had caught glimpses of lofty promontories and precipitous cliffs as the schooner skirted the southern end of the island; but most of the time it had kept too far from shore for him to appreciate the marvellous details. Now, however, as they beat up against a head wind, they occasionally ran in so close as to be wet by drifting spray from the roaring breakers that ceaselessly dashed against the mighty wall, rising, grim and sheer, hundreds of feet above them. Everywhere the rock was stained a deep red, indicating the presence of iron, and everywhere it had been rent or shattered into a thousand fantastic forms. At short intervals the massive cliffs were wrenched apart to make room for narrow fiords, of unknown depth, that penetrated for miles into the land, where they formed intricate mazes of placid waterways. Beside them there were nestled tiny fishing villages of whitewashed houses, though quite as often these were perched on apparently inaccessible crags, overlooking sheltered coves of the outer coast. On the tossing waters fronting them, fleets of fishing boats, with sails tanned a ruddy brown, like those of the "Sea Bee," or blackened by coal tar, darted with the grace and fearlessness of gulls, or rested as easily on the heaving surface, while the fishermen, clad in yellow oilskins, pursued their arduous toil. To our young American the doings of these hardy seafarers proved so interesting that he never tired of watching them nor of asking questions concerning their perilous occupation. And he had plenty of time in which to acquire information, for so adverse were the winds that only by the utmost exertion did White Baldwin succeed in getting his schooner to the St. George's landing in time for Cabot to run to the railway station just as the train from Port aux Basques was coming in. The two lads exchanged farewells with sincere regrets, after White had extended a most cordial invitation to the other to finish the cruise with him, and visit his home at Pretty Harbour. Much as Cabot wished to accept this invitation, he had declined it for the present, on the plea that he ought first to go to St. Johns. At the same time he had promised to try and make the proposed visit before leaving the island, to which White had replied: "Don't delay too long, then, or you may not find us at home, for there is no knowing what may happen when the warships get there." Even David Gidge shook hands with the departing guest, and said it was a pity he couldn't stay with them a while longer, seeing that he might be made into a very fair sort of a sailor with proper training. With one regretful backward glance, Cabot left the little schooner on which he had come to feel so much at home, and sprinted towards the station, where was gathered half the population of the village--men, women, children, and dogs. The train was already at the platform as he made his way through this crowd, wondering if he had time to purchase a ticket, and he glanced at it curiously. It was well filled, and heads were thrust from most of the car windows on that side. Through one window Cabot saw a quartette of men too busily engaged over a game of cards to take note of their surroundings. As our lad's gaze fell on these, he suddenly stood still and stared. Then he turned, pushed out from the crowd, and made his way back towards the landing as rapidly as he had come from it a few minutes before. The "Sea Bee" was under way, but had not got beyond hail, and was put back when her crew discovered who was signalling them so vigorously. "What is the matter?" inquired her young skipper, as Cabot again clambered aboard. "Did you miss the train after all?" "No," replied Cabot. "I could have caught it; but made up my mind at the last moment that I might just as well go with you to Pretty Harbour now as to try and visit it later." "Good!" cried White, heartily. "I am awfully glad you did. We were feeling blue enough without you, weren't we, Dave?" "Blue warn't no name for it," replied Mr. Gidge. "It were worse than a drop in the price of fish; an' now I feel as if they'd riz a dollar a kental." "Thank you both," laughed Cabot. "I hadn't any idea how much I should hate to leave the old 'Bee' until I tried to do it. You said there was another station that I could reach from your place, didn't you?" he added, turning to White. "Yes. There is one at Bay of Islands that can be reached by a drive of a few hours from Pretty Harbour; and I'll carry you over there any time you like," replied the latter. "That settles it, then; and I'll let St. Johns wait a few days longer." So the little schooner was again headed seaward, and set forth at a nimble pace for her run around Cape St. George and up the coast past Port au Port to the exquisitely beautiful Bay of Islands, on which Pretty Harbour is located; and, as she bore him away, Cabot hoped he had done the right thing. When commissioned to undertake this journey that was proving so full of incident, our young engineer had been only too glad of an excuse to break his engagement with Thorpe Walling; for, as has been said, the latter was not a person whom he particularly liked. Walling, on the other hand, had boasted that the most popular fellow in the Institute had chosen above all things to take a trip around the world in his company, and was greatly put out by the receipt of Cabot's telegram announcing his change of plan. The more Thorpe reflected upon this grievance the more angry did he become, until he finally swore enmity against Cabot Grant, and to get even with him if ever he had the chance. He was provoked that his chosen companion should have dismissed him so curtly, without any intimation of what he proposed to do, and this he determined to discover. So he went to New York and made inquiries at the offices of the company acting as Cabot's guardian; but could only learn that the young man had left the city after two private interviews with President Hepburn. At the club where Cabot had lunched on the day of his departure, Thorpe's appearance created surprise. "Thought you had started off with Grant on a trip around the world?" said one member in greeting him. "No," replied Walling; "we are not going." "But he sailed two days ago. At least, he said that was what he was about to do when he bade me good-bye on his way to the steamer." "What steamer, and where was she bound?" asked Thorpe. "Don't know. He only said he was about to sail." "I'll not be beaten that way," thought Walling, angrily; and, having plenty of money to expend as best suited him, he straightway engaged the services of a private detective. This man was instructed to ascertain for what port a certain Cabot Grant had sailed from New York two days earlier, and that very evening the coveted information was in his possession. "Sailed on the 'Lavinia' for St. Johns, Newfoundland, has he?" muttered Thorpe. "Then I, too, will visit St. Johns, and discover what he is doing. I might as well go there as anywhere else; and perhaps Grant will find out that it would have been wiser to confide in an old friend than to treat him as shabbily as he has me." Having reached this decision, Walling took a train from New York, and, travelling by way of Boston, Portland, and Bangor, crossed the St. Croix River from Maine into New Brunswick at Vanceboro. From there he went, via St. John, N.B., and Truro, Nova Scotia, to Port Mulgrave, where he passed over the Strait of Canso to Cape Breton. Across that island his route lay through the Bras d'Or country to North Sidney, at which point he took steamer for Port aux Basques and the Newfoundland railway that should finally land him in St. Johns. On this journey he became acquainted with several Americans, with whom he played whist, which is what he was doing when his train pulled up at the St. George's Bay platform. At sight of his classmate, Cabot became instantly desirious of avoiding him and the embarrassing questions he would be certain to ask. Although our young engineer could not imagine why Thorpe Walling had come to Newfoundland, he instinctively felt that the visit had something to do with his own trip to the island. He knew that Thorpe delighted to pry into the secrets of others; and also that he was of a vindictive nature, quick to take offence, and unscrupulous in his enmities. Therefore, as his instructions permitted him to visit whatever part of Newfoundland he chose, he decided to avoid St. Johns for the present rather than risk the results of a companionship that now seemed so undesirable. Somewhat earlier on that same day one of Thorpe's travelling companions, named Gregg, spoke to him of Newfoundland's mineral wealth, and referred particularly to the Bell Island iron mines. "Yes," replied Walling, who had never before heard of Bell Island, "they must be immensely valuable." "Oh, I don't know," said the other, carelessly. "Several American companies are trying to get control of them; but perhaps they are not what they are cracked up to be after all." "Isn't a New York man by the name of Hepburn one of the interested parties?" asked Thorpe, at a venture. "Yes, he is," responded Mr. Gregg, turning on him sharply. "Why, do you know him?" "I can't say that I know him; but I know a good deal about him, and have every reason to believe that he has just sent an acquaintance of mine, a young mining engineer, up here to examine that very property." "Is he an expert?" "Oh, yes. He and I were classmates at a technical institute." "Then you also are a mining engineer?" "I am." "Have you come to Newfoundland to investigate mineral lands?" "Not exactly; though I may do something in that line if I find a good opening. At present I am merely on a pleasure trip." "I see, and I am glad to have made your acquaintance, as I am somewhat interested in mineral lands myself. When we reach St. Johns I hope you will introduce me to your friend, and it may happen that I can return the favour by putting you on to a good thing." "Certainly, I will introduce you if we run across him," replied Thorpe. "At the same time I hope you won't mention having any knowledge of his business, as he is trying to keep it quiet." "Like most of us who have 'deals' on hand," remarked the other, with a meaning smile. "But it is hard to hide them from clever chaps like yourself." At which compliment, Thorpe, who had only been making some shrewd guesses, looked wise, but said nothing. It happened that these two were playing whist when the train reached St. George's Bay, and Mr. Gregg remarked to his partner: "There's a chap staring at this crowd as if he knew some of us." Thorpe glanced from the window, and started from his seat with an exclamation. At the same moment Cabot Grant turned away and hurried from the station. "Do you know him?" asked Mr. Gregg. "He is the very person I was speaking to you about a while ago," replied Thorpe. CHAPTER IX. SENDING IN A FALSE REPORT. At sight of Cabot, Thorpe Walling's instinct had been to leave the car and follow him; but the thought of his luggage, which he knew he could not get off in time, caused him to hesitate, and then it was too late, for the train was again in motion. "The young man did not seem particularly anxious to meet his old classmate," remarked Mr. Gregg. "In fact, it rather looked as though he wished to avoid recognition." Thorpe pretended to be too busy with his cards to make reply to this suggestion; but an ugly expression came into his face, and, from that moment, he hated Cabot Grant. When, on the following day, he reached St. Johns and learned of the loss of the "Lavinia," with all on board, except those saved in the mate's boat, he was more perplexed than ever. Cabot's name was published as one of those who had gone down with the ill-fated steamer, and yet he had certainly seen him alive and well only the day before. What could it mean? "Do you suppose Hepburn knows of his escape?" asked Mr. Gregg, who was stopping at the same hotel, and to whom Thorpe confided this mystery. "I haven't an idea." "What do you say to wiring and finding out? It can't do us any harm, and might gain us an insight into the old man's plans up here." "I should say it was a good idea." As a result of this desire for information the following telegram was sent to the president of the Gotham Trust and Investment Company: "St. Johns, N'f'l'd.--Here all right. What shall I do next?----C. G." And the answer came promptly: "Congratulations. Send B. I. report. If in need of funds, draw.----H." "That settles it!" exclaimed Mr. Gregg, exultingly. "Hepburn is after Bell Island, and your friend was sent here to report upon its value. Now, it will be a pity if the old man doesn't get his information, which he isn't likely to do for some time with that young chap over on the west coast. Some one ought to send him a report." "I have a mind to do it myself," said Thorpe, reflectively. "It would be an awfully decent thing for you to do. Be a good joke on your friend, too, and make him fed ashamed of himself for cutting you so dead yesterday, when he finds it out. He is bound to get into trouble if some sort of a report isn't sent in, now that he is known to have escaped from the wreck." "Confound him!" exclaimed Thorpe. "I don't care how soon he gets into trouble; nor how much." "Oh, come. That isn't a nice way to speak of an old friend and classmate," remarked Mr. Gregg, reprovingly. "Now, I always feel sorry when I see a decent young chap like that throwing away a good chance, and want to help him if I can. So in the present case, I think we really ought to send in a report that will satisfy old Hepburn, and keep the boy solid with his employers. I shouldn't know how to word it myself, but if you, with your expert knowledge of the subject, will make it out, of course after taking a look at the mine, I'll see that you don't lose anything by your kindness." "All right," replied Thorpe, who was quite sharp enough to comprehend the other's meaning. "I'll do it." So the two conspirators drove to the picturesque fishing village of Portugal Cove, where they hired a boat to carry them across to Bell Island. There they paid a hasty visit to the mine, which Mr. Gregg plausibly belittled and undervalued, until Thorpe really began to consider it a greatly overestimated piece of property, and this idea he embodied in a report that he wrote out that very evening. "I'm glad to see that you think as I do concerning the real worthlessness of Bell Island," remarked Mr. Gregg, gravely, as he glanced over the paper, "and the man who would have anything to do with it after reading this must be a greater fool than I take old Hepburn to be." On the following day a type-written copy of Thorpe's report was made, signed "C. G.," and forwarded by mail to the president of the Gotham Trust and Investment Company. As a result, a telegram was received a week later at the Bank of Nova Scotia in St. Johns addressed to Cabot Grant, and desiring him to return at once to New York. As the bank people wired back that they had no knowledge of any such person, Mr. Hepburn in reply requested them to keep a sharp lookout for a young man of that name, who would shortly present a letter of credit to them, and provide him with a ticket to New York on account of it, but nothing more. Mr. Hepburn also explained that, as Cabot Grant's guardian, he had the right to thus limit his ward's expenditures. Thus our lad fell into disgrace with his employer, who knew, as well as any man living, the exact status of the Bell Island iron mine, and had only requested Cabot to report on it in order to test his fitness for other work. While the correspondence with the bank was being carried on, Messrs. Walling and Gregg watched for the arrival of the young engineer, whom they expected by every train. They also anxiously awaited the news that the Hepburn syndicate had withdrawn its offer for the Bell Island property, in which event it would fall, at a greatly reduced price, to the company represented by Mr. Gregg. Totally unconscious of all this, Cabot Grant was at that very time in a remote corner of the west coast, happily engaged in aiding certain of its inhabitants to discomfit the combined naval forces of two of the most powerful governments of the world. Moreover, he had become so interested in this exciting occupation, as well as in certain discoveries that he was making, as to have very nearly lost sight of his intention to visit the capital of the island. When he reëmbarked on the "Sea Bee" at St. George's Bay, he fully intended to catch the train of two days later at the station to which White had promised to convey him. He was glad of a chance to view some more of that magnificent west coast scenery, and when the little schooner finally rounded South Head, and was pointed towards the massive front of Blomidon, which David Gidge called "Blow-me-down," he felt well repaid for his delay by the enchanting beauty of the Bay of Islands that lay outspread before them. Soon after passing South Head, the "Sea Bee," with flags flying from both masts, slipped through a narrow passage into the land-locked basin of Pretty Harbour. On its further shore stood a handful of white houses, and a larger building that fronted the water. "That's our factory!" cried White, "and there is our house, on the hillside, just beyond. See, the one with the dormer windows. There's Cola waving from one of them now. Bless her! She must have been watching, to sight us so quickly. Oh, I can't wait. Dave, you take the 'Bee' up to the wharf. Mr. Grant will help you, I know, as well as excuse me if I go ashore first." "Of course, I will," replied Cabot; and in another minute the young skipper was sculling ashore in the dinghy, while the schooner drifted more slowly in the same direction. When they finally reached the factory wharf White was on hand to meet them, and beside him stood the slender, merry-eyed girl for whom the schooner had been named. She unaffectedly held out a hand to Cabot when they were introduced, and at once invited him to the house to meet her mother. "Yes," said White, "you two go along, and don't wait for me. You see," he added, apologetically, to Cabot, "there's been a great catch of lobsters, and if I can only get them packed before we are interfered with, we'll make a pretty good season of it, after all." So the new-comer walked with Cola up the straggling village street, past a score of fisher cottages, each with a tiny porch, pots of flowers in the front windows, and a bit of a garden fenced with wattles, to keep out the children, goats, dogs, and pigs, that swarmed on all sides. At length they came to the neatly kept and comfortable-looking house, overlooking the whole, that White Baldwin called home. Here Cabot was presented to the sweet-faced invalid mother, who sat beside a window of the living-room, from which she could look out on the little harbour, and who was eager to learn the details of his recent experiences that White had only found time to outline to her. Both mother and daughter listened with deepest interest while Cabot told of the loss of the "Lavinia," and when he had finished Mrs. Baldwin said: "You certainly made a wonderful escape, and I am grateful that my boy was granted the privilege of rescuing you from that dreadful raft. I am confident, also, that you have been brought to this place for some wise purpose, and trust that you are planning to remain with us as long as your engagements will permit." "Thank you, madam," replied Cabot. "I wish I might accept your hospitality for a week, at least. For I am certain I should find much to enjoy in this delightful region. I feel, however, that I ought to catch to-morrow's train, as it is rather necessary for me to reach St. Johns without further delay." "It seems queer," remarked Cola, "that this stupid place can strike even a stranger as being delightful, since there is no one to see but fisherfolk, who can talk of nothing but fish, and there isn't a thing to do but watch the boats go and come. For my part, I am so tired of it all that I wish something would happen to send us away from here forever." "My dear!" said Mrs. Baldwin to Cola, reprovingly. "Some one seems to have found an occupation here in collecting a cabinet of specimens," suggested Cabot, indicating, as he spoke, some shelves covered with bits of rock, that had attracted his attention. "Yes," admitted Cola, "I have found some amusement in gathering those things; but I don't know what half of them are, and there is no one here to tell me." "Possibly I might help you to name some of them," said Cabot, "as I have a bowing acquaintance with geology." "Oh! can you?" cried the girl. "Then I wish you would, right away, for I am almost certain that several of them contain minerals, and I want awfully to know if they are gold." The next moment the two young people were standing before the cabinet, deep in the mysteries of periods, ages, formations, series, and other profound geologic terms. All at once Cabot paused, and, holding a bit of serpentine in his hand, asked: "Did this come from about here?" [Illustration: "Did this come from about here?"] "Yes; ail of them did." "Could you show me the place, or somewhere near where you found it?" "I think I could, if we had time; but not if you are going away in the morning, for it would take at least half a day." "Well," said Cabot, "I believe I might wait over long enough for that, and guess I won't start for St. Johns to-morrow, after all." CHAPTER X. CABOT ACQUIRES A LOBSTER FACTORY. The Baldwins were greatly pleased at Cabot's decision to wait over a train; for, as Mrs. Baldwin said, a desirable guest in that out-of-the-way corner of the world was the greatest of luxuries. White was glad to prolong the friendship so strangely begun, and also to escape a present necessity for leaving his work to carry Cabot to the distant railway station, while Cola was delighted to have found what she termed a geologic companion. After it was arranged that these two should set forth early the following day on a search for specimens, Cabot strolled down to the factory to learn something of the process of canning lobsters. He was amazed at the change effected in so short a time. When he landed at Pretty Harbour the factory had been closed, silent, and deserted. Now it was a hive of bustling activity, in which every available person of the village, including women and children, was hard at work. Fires were blazing under a number of great kettles half filled with boiling water. Into these, green lobsters were tossed by barrowfuls, to be taken out a little later smoking hot and coloured a vivid scarlet. On the packing tables their shells were broken, and the extracted meat was put into cans, to which covers, each with a tiny hole in the middle, were soldered. Then the filled cans were steamed, by trayfuls, to exhaust their air; a drop of solder closed each vent, and they were ready for labelling and packing in cases. White Baldwin, in person, superintended all these operations, while David Gidge saw to the unloading of the "Sea Bee," and kept sharp watch on a gang of shouting urchins, who were withdrawing the live lobsters from the outside salt-water pens, in which they had been kept while awaiting their fate. White was in high spirits, for the travelling agent of a St. Johns business house had just offered a good cash price for his entire pack. "Of course," the young proprietor said to Cabot, as they viewed the busy scone, "we won't make anything like what we would if we were allowed a whole uninterrupted season; but, if they will only let us alone for a week, I'll pack a thousand cases. Those will yield enough to support us for a year, and before that is up I'm not afraid but that I'll find some other way of earning a living. Now, if I can only get sufficient help, I'm going to run this factory night and day for the next week, unless compelled by force to stop sooner." Cabot was already so interested that he promptly volunteered to aid in making the all-important pack. "I don't know anything about the business," he said, "but if you can make use of me in any way, I shall be only too glad of a chance to repay a small portion of the great debt I owe you." "Nonsense!" laughed White. "You don't owe me a thing, and I don't want you to feel that way. At the same time I should be ever so glad of your help in getting things well started; for just now one strong fellow like you would be worth a dozen of those children." So, a few minutes later, Cabot, clad in overalls and an old flannel shirt of White's, was as hard at work as though the canning of lobsters was the business of his life. Far into the night he laboured, only pausing long enough to go up to the house for supper; and, on the following morning, he was actually pleased that a heavy rain storm should postpone the trip for specimens, furnish him with an excuse for prolonging his stay, and leave him at liberty to resume his self-imposed task in the factory. The storm lasted for two days, at the end of which time half the pack had been made, and Cabot had become so familiar with all details of the work as to be a most valuable assistant. On the third day, the supply of lobsters on hand being exhausted, operations were suspended until the boats could return with a new catch; and, as the weather was again fine, Cabot and Cola set forth on their geological exploration. It was a glorious day, with a sky of deepest blue; the hot sunshine tempered by a cool breeze pouring in from the sea, and all nature sparkling with joyous life. To Cabot, who had thought of Newfoundland as a place of perpetual fog, and almost constant rain, the whole scene was a source of boundless delight. As the two young people climbed the steep ascent behind the village, new beauties were unfolded with each moment, until, when they reached the crest, and could look far out over the islanded bay, with the placid cove and its white hamlet nestling at their feet, Cabot declared his belief that there was not a more exquisite view in all the world. After gazing their fill, the explorers plunged into a sweet-scented forest of spruce and birches, threaded by narrow wood roads, and tramped for miles, stopping now and then to examine some outcropping ledge or gather a handful of snow-white capilear berries. But the main object of their quest, the copper-bearing serpentine, was not found until they had gained the summit of the Blomidon range and were in full view of the sea. Then they came to a distinct outcrop of mineral-bearing rock that caused the eyes of the young geologist to glisten with anticipation. While he chipped off specimens, studied the trend of the ledge, and made such estimates of its character as were possible from surface indications, his companion climbed a rocky eminence that, short of Blomidon itself, commanded the most extended view of any in that region. She had hardly gained the summit when she uttered a cry that attracted Cabot's attention and caused him to hasten in her direction. In a few moments he met her running breathlessly down the hill. "What is it?" he asked. "Are you hurt?" "A warship coming up the coast," she panted. "I saw it plainly, and we must get back with the news as quick as we can." Much as Cabot hated to give over the exploration of that wonderful copper-bearing ledge, he did not hesitate to obey the imperative call of friendship, and accompanied Cola with all speed back to the village. When they reached it they found White jubilant over the extraordinary catch of lobsters that was even then being brought in. "Hurrah!" he cried, as Cabot appeared. "Biggest catch of the season, and you are just in time to help pack it away. But what brings you back so early? I thought you were off for all day." "Oh, White, they are coming!" gasped Cola. "Who are coming?" "A warship. I saw it from Maintop." "British or French?" "I don't know. I only knew it was a warship because it was so much bigger than the 'Harlaw' and had tall masts." "Well, it don't make any difference," growled White, "one is just as bad as another, and our business is ruined anyway. Why couldn't they have kept away for three days longer?" "What will they do?" inquired Cabot, curiously. "I don't know," replied White, bitterly. "Either destroy or seize the whole plant and leave us to starve at our leisure. Now, I suppose we might as well go up to the house and tell mother. There's no use doing any more work under the circumstances." "I don't see why not," objected Cabot, who was not accustomed to throwing up a fight before it was begun. "There is a possibility that the vessel may not be a warship after all, and another that she is not coming to this place. Even if she does, you don't know that she has any warrant for interfering with your business. So, if I were you, I'd go right on with the work and keep at it until some one compelled me to stop. I say, though, speaking of warrants gives me an idea. All you want is three days' delay, isn't it?" "That is what I want most just now," replied White. "Well, then, why not place this property in the name of some friend--David Gidge, for instance--and when those men-of-war people begin to make trouble let him ask them whose factory it is they are after. They will say yours, or your mother's, of course. Then he'll speak up and say in that case they've come to the wrong place, since this is the property of Mr. David Gidge, while their warrant only mentions that of Mrs. Whiteway Baldwin. It'll be a big bluff, of course, and won't work for very long, but it may puzzle 'em a bit and give the delay of proceedings that you require." "I believe you are right about keeping on with the work," replied White, thoughtfully; "though I am not so sure about the other part of your scheme. Anyway, I must run to the house for a little talk with mother, and if you'll just set things going in the factory I shall be much obliged." "All right," agreed Cabot, "I'll shake 'em up." And he was as good as his word, for when, after an absence of more than an hour, White reappeared on the scene he found the factory in full blast, with its operatives working as they had never worked before, and Cabot Grant, the most disreputable-looking of the lot, urging them on by voice and example to still greater exertions. He seemed to be everywhere and doing everything at once. "Hello, old man! We've got greenbacks to burn, and we're a-burning 'em," he cried cheerily as he paused to greet his friend, and at the same time dash the streaming perspiration from his face with a grimy hand. "What's the news?" "The news is that you are a trump!" exclaimed White, "and that in spite of all you are doing for us we want you to grant us still another favour." "Name it, my boy, and if it is anything within reason, including a defiance of the whole British navy, I'll do it," laughed Cabot. "I hope you will, for it is something that we all want you to do very much," responded White. "You see it's this way. I spoke of your suggestion to mother, and she thought so well of it that I went to the magistrate and got him to draw up a deed transferring this property, for a nominal consideration, to a friend. Now it is all ready for signatures, and we want you to be that friend." "Me!" cried Cabot, completely staggered by this unexpected result of his own planning. "You can't mean that. Why, you don't know anything about me. For all you know I might never give the property back to you." "We are willing to risk that," replied White, "and would rather trust you to act for us in this matter than any one else we know. It is a big favour to ask, I know; but you said you felt indebted to me and only wanted a chance to pay off the debt, so I thought perhaps--but if you don't want to do it, of course----" "But I will, if you really want me to," cried Cabot. "I have always longed to own a lobster factory. It never entered my head when I proposed the plan that I would help carry it out; but if you think I can be of the slightest assistance in that way, why of course I am only too glad." So the papers constituting Cabot Grant, Esq., sole owner of the Pretty Harbour lobster factory were duly signed and recorded; and at sunset of that very evening our hero stood regarding his suddenly acquired property with the air of one who is dubiously pleased at a prospect. CHAPTER XI. BLUFFING THE BRITISH NAVY. Cabot was not long allowed to enjoy his sense of possession before experiencing some of the anxieties of proprietorship; for, even as he stood overlooking his newly acquired factory, a clipper-built schooner, showing the fine lines and tall topmasts of an American, rounded the outer headland and entered the harbour. For a few minutes our young engineer, who was learning to appreciate the good points of a vessel, watched her admiringly as she glided across the basin and drew near the factory wharf. Then he was joined by White, who had been detained at the house, and they went down together to greet the new-comer. She proved to be the fishing schooner "Ruth" of Gloucester, and her skipper, who introduced himself as Cap'n Ezekiel Bland, explained that he had come to the coast after bait. "I 'lowed to get it in St. George," he said, "but there was a pesky French frigate that wouldn't allow the natives to sell us so much as a herring, though they had a-plenty and were keen to make a trade for the stuff I've got aboard." "What kind of stuff?" asked Cabot, curiously. "Flour and pork mostly. You see, I'm bound on a long trip, and being obliged to lay in a big supply of grub anyway, thought I might as well stow a few extra barrels to trade for bait; but now it looks like I couldn't get rid of 'em unless I give 'em away." "There's plenty of bait in the bay," remarked White. "Yes, so I've heard, and a plenty of frigates, too. The Frenchy must have suspicioned where I was bound, for he has followed us up sharp, and as we came by South Head I seen him jest a bilin' along 'bout ten mile astarn, and now he'll poke into every hole of the bay till he finds us. Anyhow, there won't be no chance to trade long as he's round, for you folks don't dare say your soul's your own when there's a Frenchy on the coast." "Nor hardly at any other time," remarked White, moodily. "There's another one, too--Britisher, I reckon--went up the bay towards Humber Arm ahead of us. I only wish the two tarnal critters would get into a scrap and blow each other out of the water. Then there'd be some chance for honest folks to make a living. Now I'm up a stump and don't know what to do, unless some of you people can let me have a few barrels of bait right off, so's I can clear out again to-night." "There isn't any to be had here," replied White, "for this is a lobster factory, and the whole business of the place, just at present, is catching and canning lobsters. You'll find some round at York Harbour, though." "No use going there now, nor anywhere else, long as that pesky Frenchman's on the lookout. Can't think what made him leave St. Pierre in such a hurry. Thought he was good to stay there a week longer at any rate. But say, who owns this factory?" "This gentleman is the proprietor," replied White, indicating his companion as he spoke. "Hm!" ejaculated the Yankee skipper, regarding Cabot with an air of interest. "Never should have took you to be the owner of a Newfoundland lobster factory. Sized you up to be a Yankee same as myself, and reckoned you was here on a visit. Seeing as you are the boss, though, how'd you like to trade your pack for my cargo--lobsters for groceries? Both of us might make a good thing out of it. Eh? I'll take all the risks, and neither of us needn't pay no duty." "Can't do it," replied Cabot promptly, "because, in the first place, I'm not in the smuggling business, and in the second our whole pack is engaged by parties in St. Johns." "As for the smuggling part," responded Captain Bland, "I wouldn't let that worry me a little bit. Everybody smuggles on this coast, which is neither British, French, nor Newfoundland. So a man wouldn't rightly know who to pay duties to, even if he wanted to pay 'em ever so bad, which most of us don't. If you have engaged your goods to St. Johns, though, of course a bargain is a bargain. Same time I could afford to pay you twice as much as any St. Johns merchant. But it don't matter much one way or another, seeing as the idea of trading was only an idea as you may say that just popped into my head. Well, so long. It's coming on dark, and I must be getting aboard. See you to-morrow, mebbe." As the Yankee skipper took his departure, Cabot and White turned into the factory, where all night long fires blazed and roared beneath the seething kettles. Until nearly noon of the following day the work of canning lobsters was continued without interruption, and pushed with all possible energy. Then a boy, who had been posted outside the harbour as a lookout, came hurrying in to report that he had seen a naval launch steaming in that direction. The emergency for which Cabot had been planning ever since he consented to become the responsible head of the concern was close at hand, and he at once began to take measures to meet it. "Draw your fires," he shouted. "Empty the kettles and cool them off. Pass all cans, empty or full, up into the loft, and then every one of you clear out. Remember that you are not to know a thing about the factory, if anybody asks questions, and you don't even want to give any one a chance to ask questions if you can help it. Run up to the house," he added, turning to the boy who had brought tidings of the enemy's approach, "and tell Mrs. Baldwin, with my compliments, that the carriage is ready for her drive." So thoroughly had everything been explained and understood beforehand, and so promptly were these orders obeyed, that, half an hour later, when a jaunty man-of-war's launch, flying a British Jack, entered the little harbour, every preparation had been made for her reception. The factory, closed and silent, presented no outward sign that it had been in operation for months. Those who had recently worked so industriously within its weather-stained walls now lounged about their own house doors, or on the village street, as though they had nothing to do, and limitless leisure in which to do it. White Baldwin, with his mother and sister, had driven away in a cart, leaving their tenantless house with closed doors and tightly shuttered windows. Cabot Grant, with hands thrust into his trousers pockets, leaned against a wharf post and surveyed the oncoming launch with languid curiosity. The Yankee schooner swung gracefully at her moorings, and from her a boat was pulling towards shore; while on the deck of the "Sea Bee," also anchored in the stream, David Gidge placidly smoked a pipe. The launch slowed down as it neared him, and an officer inquired in the crisp tones of authority: "What place is this?" Deliberately taking the pipe from his mouth, and looking about him as though to refresh his memory, Mr. Gidge answered: "I've heard it called by a number of names." "Was one of them Pretty Harbour?" "Now that you mention it, I believe it were." "What kind of a building is that?" continued the officer, sharply, pointing to the factory as he spoke. David gazed at the building with interest, as though now seeing it for the first time. "Looks to me like a barn," he said at length. "Same time it might be a church, though I don't reckon it is." "Isn't it a lobster factory?" "They might make lobsters in it, but I don't think they does. Mebbe that young man on the wharf could tell ye. He looks knowing." Disgusted at this exhibition of stupidity, and muttering something about a chuckle-headed idiot, the officer motioned for his launch to move ahead, and, in another minute, it lay alongside the wharf. "Is this the Pretty Harbour lobster factory?" demanded the officer as he stepped ashore. "I believe it was formerly used as a lobster cannery," replied Cabot, guardedly, "but no business of the kind is being carried on here at present." "It is owned by the family of the late William Baldwin, is it not?" "No, sir." "Who then does own the property?" "I do." "You!" exclaimed the officer. "And pray, sir, who are you?" "I am an American citizen named Grant, and have recently acquired this property by purchase." "Indeed. Then of course you possess papers showing the transfer of ownership." "Certainly." "I should like to look at them." "They have been sent for record to the county seat, where any one who chooses may examine them." "Where shall I find a person by the name of Whiteway Baldwin?" "I can't tell you, as he has left the place." "Is any member of his family here?" "No. All of them went with him." "Have you the keys of this factory?" "I have." "Then I must trouble you to open it, as I wish to look inside." As the two entered the building, and the officer caught sight of the machinery used in canning lobsters, he said: "I am very sorry, Mr. Grant, but I have orders to destroy everything found in this factory that has been, or may be, used in the canning of lobsters." "Those orders apply to the property of Mrs. William Baldwin, do they not?" "They do." "Then, sir, since she no longer owns this building, and I do, together with all that it contains, I warn you that if you destroy one penny's worth of my property I shall at once bring suit for damages against both you and your commanding officer. I can command plenty of money and a powerful influence at home, both of which shall be brought to bear on the case. If it goes against you my claim will be pressed by the American Government at the Court of St. James. Moreover, articles concerning the outrage will be published in all the leading American papers. Public sentiment will be aroused, and you doubtless know as well as any one whether England, with all the troubles now on her hands, can afford to incur the ill will of the American people for the sake of a pitiful lobster factory. You can see for yourself that no illegal business--nor in fact business of any kind--is being carried on here at present, and, under the circumstances, I would advise you to take time for serious reflection before you begin to destroy the property of an American citizen." Bewildered by this unexpected aspect of the situation, and remembering how a suit brought by the proprietors of that same factory had gone against a former British commander who had interfered with its operations, the officer hemmed and hawed and made several remarks uncomplimentary to Americans, but finally decided to lay the case before his captain. As he reëntered his launch he said: "Of course you understand, sir, that no work of any kind is to be done in this building between this and the time of my return, nor may anything whatever be removed from it." "I understand perfectly," replied Cabot. Yet within half an hour the employees of the factory had returned to their tasks, fires had been re-lighted, kettles were boiling merrily, and the place again hummed with busy activity. "Young feller, it was the biggest bluff I ever see, and it worked!" exclaimed Captain Ezekiel Bland a few minutes earlier, as he stood on the wharf with Cabot watching the departing launch. CHAPTER XII. ENGLAND AND FRANCE COME TO BLOWS. The Baldwins returned to their home shortly after the departure of the discomfited officer, and listened with intense interest to Cabot's report of all that had taken place during their absence. "So one but a Yankee would have thought of such a plan!" exclaimed White, "or had the cheek to carry it out. But it makes me feel as mean as dirt to have run away and left you to face the music alone." "You needn't," replied Cabot, "for your absence was one of the most important things, and I couldn't possibly have carried out the programme if you had been there. Now, though, we've got to hustle, for I expect that navy chap will be back again to-morrow, and whatever we can accomplish between now and then will probably end the lobster-packing business so far as this factory is concerned." That night the workers received a reinforcement, as unexpected as it was welcome, from the crew of the Yankee schooner, who, led by Captain Bland, came to assist their fellow countryman in his struggle against foreign oppression. With this timely and expert aid, the canning business was so rushed that by ten o'clock of the next morning, when the lookout again reported a launch to be approaching, every can was filled and the pack was completed. More than half of it had also been removed from the factory and stowed aboard the "Sea Bee," ready for delivery to the St. Johns purchaser. "I wish he were here now," said White, "so that we might settle up our business with him before those chaps arrive." "Well, he isn't," replied Cabot, "and we must protect the goods as best we can until he comes. In the meantime I think you'd better disappear and leave me to manage alone, the same as I did yesterday." "No. I won't run away again. I'm going to stay and face the music." "All right," agreed Cabot. "Perhaps it will be just as well, since the factory is closed sure enough this time. You must let me do all the talking, though, and perhaps in some way we'll manage to scare 'em off again." "If we could have just one day more we'd be all right," said White, "but there they come. Only, I say! They are Frenchmen this time. See the flag." Sure enough. Instead of flying the British Union Jack the launch that now appeared in the harbour displayed the tri-colour of the French Republic. Thus, when Cabot and White reached the wharf, they were just in time to greet their acquaintance of St. Pierre, the lieutenant of the French frigate "Isla," whom White had so neatly outwitted in that port. As he stepped ashore he was accompanied by a sharp-featured, black-browed individual, whom White recognised as M. Delom, proprietor of a French lobster factory located on another shore of the bay. "That chap has come for pickings and stealings," he remarked in a low tone. "Shouldn't wonder," returned Cabot, "for he looks like a thief." "Ah, ha, Monsieur Baldwin! I haf catch you zis time, an' you cannot now gif me what you call ze sleep," cried the French lieutenant. "Also I am come to siz your property, for you may no more can ze lob of ze Française. Behol'! I have ze aut'orization." So saying, the officer drew forth and unfolded with a flourish a paper that he read aloud. It was an order for the confiscation and removal of all property owned by a person, or persons, named Baldwin, and used by them contrary to law in canning lobsters on the French territory of Newfoundland, and it was signed: "Charmian, Capitan de Frégate." "So, Monsieur Baldwin," continued the officer, when he had finished the reading, "you will gif to me ze key of your factory zat I may from it remof ze materiel. I sall also take your schooner for to convey it to ze factory of M. Delom. Is it plain, ma intention?" "Your intention is only too plain," responded White. "You are come to aid that thief in stealing my property; but you are too late, for the factory no longer belongs to the Baldwin family." "Ah! Is it so? Who zen belong to it?" "This gentleman is the present owner," replied White, "and you must arrange your business with him." "Who is he?" demanded the Frenchman, surveying Cabot contemptuously from head to foot. "But I do not care. Ze material mus all ze same be remof." "I am an American citizen," interrupted Cabot, "and I forbid you to touch my property. If you do so I shall claim damages through the American government, and in the meantime I shall call on the British frigate now in this bay for protection." "For ze Americains I do not care," cried the Frenchman, assuming a theatrical attitude. "For l'Anglais, pouf! I also care not. When it is my duty I do him. Ze material mus be remof. Allons, mes garçons." A dozen French bluejackets, armed with cutlasses and pistols, had gathered behind their leader, and now these sprang forward with a shout, clearing a way through the collected throng of villagers. Advancing upon the main entrance to the factory, they quickly battered down its door and rushed inside. With them went swarthy-faced Delom, who gloated over the spoil that now seemed within his grasp, and which would make his own factory the best equipped on the coast, he was especially pleased to note the pack all boxed ready for shipment, and our lads saw him direct the officer's attention to it. As a result the latter gave an order, and in another minute a file of French bluejackets, each with a case of canned lobster on his shoulder, was marching towards the door. Just as they reached it there came a shout and a tramp of heavy feet from the outside. Then a stern voice cried: "Halt! What are you doing here, you French beggars? Drop those boxes and clear out." As the Frenchmen halted irresolute, their officer, who could not see what was going on, but imagined that some of the villagers were blocking the entrance, shouted for them to march on and clear away the canaille who dared oppose them. The French bluejackets attempted to obey, but, with their first forward movement, they were met by an inrush of sturdy British sailors, who sent them and their burdens crashing to the floor in every direction. Some of them as they regained their feet drew their cutlasses, while others fell upon the new-comers with their fists. A pistol shot rang out, and a British sailor pitched heavily forward. At the same instant both officers sprang into the mêlée, beating back their men with the flat of their swords, and fiercely ordering them to desist from further fighting. [Illustration: Others fell on the new-comers with their fists.] So sharp had been the brief encounter between these hereditary enemies, that as they sullenly withdrew their clutch from each other's throats a British sailor remained on the floor striving to staunch the blood that spurted from a bullet wound in his leg, while near at hand lay a French bluejacket, as white and motionless as though dead. Another Frenchman had a broken arm, while several others on both sides looked askance at their enemies from blackened eyes and swollen faces. "Sir!" cried the French lieutenant, the moment order was so far restored that he could make himself heard, "I am bidden by my commandant, ze Chevalier Charmian, capitan de frigate 'Isla,' to remof all material from zis building, and in his name I protest against zis mos outrage interference." "Sir," answered the British officer, "I am ordered by my captain to destroy all property contained in this building, and not permit the removal of a single article." "But I will not allow it destroyed!" "And I will not allow it removed." For a moment the two glared at each other in speechless rage. Then the Frenchman said: "As humanity compels me to gif immediate attention to my men, wounded by ze unprovoked assault of your barbarians, I sall at once carry zem to my sheep, where I sail immediately also report zis outrage to my commandant." "Same here," replied the Englishman, laconically, and with this both officers ordered their men to fall back to the launches, carrying with them their wounded comrades. During the progress of this thrilling episode our two lads had watched it in breathless excitement without once thinking of leaving the building, though a back door opened close at hand. So intent were they upon what was taking place that they did not notice the approach of a third person until he was close beside them and had addressed White by name. He was the St. Johns travelling man, who had engaged the Baldwin pack for his firm, and now he said in low, hurried tones: "You fellows want to skip out of this while you can, for that British officer has got orders to arrest you both and carry you to St. Johns for trial. Charges--contempt of court and carrying on an illegal business. Awfully sorry I can't take your goods, but order has been issued that any one handling them will also be arrested and subject to heavy fine. Hurry up. They are making a move, and he'll be looking for you directly. Don't let on that I gave you the tip." With this the man moved away, and without exchanging a word our lads slipped out of the nearby door. So fully was the British officer occupied in getting his men back to their launch without making another attack upon their hated rivals, that not until all were safely on board did he remember that he had been charged to bring off two prisoners. Now he was in a quandary. Those whom he desired were nowhere to be seen, and he dared not leave his men, whose fighting blood was still at fever heat, long enough to go in search of them. Also the French launch was about to depart, and it would never do for the captain of the "Isla" to be informed of the recent unfortunate encounter in advance of his own commander. So, with a last futile look ashore, he reluctantly gave the order to shove off, and side by side, their crews screaming taunts at each other, the two launches raced out of the harbour. As Cabot and White watched them from a place of snug concealment, the latter heaved a sigh of relief, saying: "Well, I'm mighty glad they're gone, and haven't got us with them; but I do wish that fight could have lasted a few minutes longer." "Wasn't it lovely!" retorted Cabot, "and isn't the lobster industry on this coast just about the most exciting business in the world!" CHAPTER XIII. A PRISONER OF WAR. With the disappearance of the launches our lads realised that it was time to make new plans for immediate action. So, as they walked slowly back towards the village, they earnestly discussed the situation. "It is too bad that I have drawn you into such a scrape," said White, "and the very first thing for me to do is to make an effort to get you out of it. So, if you like, I will drive you over to the station this afternoon, where you can take the morning train for St. Johns." "No," replied Cabot, "that wouldn't do at all. In the first place, you didn't draw me into the scrape. I went into it with my eyes open, and am quite ready to stand by what I have done. In fact I rather enjoy it than otherwise. At the same time I do not propose to be arrested if I can help it, and for that reason do not care to visit St. Johns at present. Even at the railway station we should be very likely to meet and be recognised by some of our recent unpleasant naval acquaintances. Besides, I am going to see this thing through, and shall stand by you just as long as I can be of any service, for I hope you don't think so meanly of me as to imagine that I would desert in the time of his trouble the fellow who saved my life." "I never for one moment thought meanly of you," declared White, "and I know that in rescuing you from that raft I also gained for myself one of the best friends I ever had. For that very reason, though, I don't want to abuse your friendship." "All right," laughed Cabot. "Whenever I feel abused I'll let you know. And now, it being settled that we are to fight this thing out together, what do you propose to do with the pack we have worked so hard to make?" "I don't know," replied White, despondently; "but, as it is legally your property, I think you ought to decide what is to be done with it." "Nonsense!" retorted Cabot. "It no more really belongs to me than it does to that black-faced Frenchman. At the same time I'd fight rather than let him have it." "I'd toss every case into the sea first," cried White, "and everything the factory contains besides." "'Same here,' as the Englishman said; but I guess we can do better than that. Why not accept Captain Bland's offer, and trade it to him for groceries?" "I thought you were opposed to receiving smuggled goods?" "So I am on general principles," admitted Cabot, "but circumstances alter cases. I consider the highway robbery that two of the most powerful nations of the world are attempting right here a circumstance strong enough to alter any case. So I would advise you to accept the only offer now remaining open. You will at least get enough groceries to keep your family supplied for a year." "I should say so, and for two years more, provided the goods didn't spoil." "Then you might sell what you couldn't use." "Where?" asked White. "Not in Newfoundland, for they would be seized as contraband in any part of the island. Besides, you seem to forget that as both of us are liable to arrest, we are hardly in a position to go into the grocery business just at present." "That's so. Well, then, why not carry them somewhere else in the 'Sea Bee'? To Canada, or--I have it! You said something once about making a trading trip to Labrador, and now is the very opportunity. Why shouldn't we take the goods to Labrador? I don't believe we'd be arrested in that country, even for smuggling, and they must need a lot of provisions up there. It's the very thing, and the sooner we can arrange to be off the better." "But you don't want to go to Labrador," protested White. "Don't I? There's where you make a big mistake; for I do want to go to Labrador more than to any other place I know of. Also I would rather go there with you in the 'Sea Bee' than in any other company, or by any other conveyance. So there you are, and if you don't invite me to start for Labrador before that brass-bound navy chap has a chance to arrest me, I shall consider myself a victim of misplaced confidence." "I do believe you have hit upon the very best way out of our troubles," said White, thoughtfully. "If I could arrange to leave mother, and if the Yankee captain would make a part payment in cash, so that she and Cola could get along until my return, I believe I would go." "You can leave your mother and sister now as well as when you went to St. Johns, and better, for I am sure David Gidge would look out for them during the month or so that we'll be away." "But David would have to go along to help work the schooner." "I don't see why. You and I could manage without him, and so save his wages, or his share of the voyage, which would amount to the same thing. If one man can sail a 30-foot boat around the world alone, as Captain Slocum did, two of us certainly ought to be able to take a 50-foot schooner up to Labrador and back. Any way I'm game to try it, if you are, and I'd a heap rather risk it than stay here to be arrested. There is Captain Bland now. Let's go and talk with him." The Yankee skipper stood near the shattered door of the factory in company with a number of villagers, all of whom seemed greatly interested in something going on inside. As our lads drew near these made way for them, and Captain Bland said: "'Pears like the new owner is making himself perfectly at home." Inside the factory the Frenchman Delom, who had remained behind to make good his claim to the confiscated property of his rival, was too busily at work to pay any attention to the disparaging remarks and muttered threats of those whom he had forbidden to enter. He had collected all the tools and lighter machinery into a pile ready for removal, and was now marking with his own stencil such of the filled cases as remained on the lower floor. So dreaded was the power of France on that English coast that up to that moment no one had dared interfere with him, but Cabot Grant was not troubled by a fear of France or any other nation, and, as he realised what was going on, he sprang into the building. The next instant our young football player had that Frenchman by the collar and was rushing him towards the doorway. From it he projected him so violently that the man measured his length on the ground a full rod beyond it. Livid with rage at this assault, the Frenchman scrambled to his feet, whipped out an ugly-looking knife, and started towards Cabot with murderous intent. [Illustration: Livid with rage, the Frenchman whipped out an ugly-looking knife.] "No you don't," shouted Captain Bland, and in another moment Monsieur Delom's arms were pinioned behind him, while he struggled helplessly in the iron grasp of the Yankee skipper. "I think we'd better tie him," remarked the latter quietly. "'Tain't safe to let a varmint like this loose on any community." White produced a rope and was stepping forward with it, but Cabot took it from him, saying: "For the sake of your family you mustn't have anything to do with this affair." So he and Captain Bland bound the Frenchman hand and foot, took away his knife, and carried him for present safe keeping to a small, dark building that was used for the storage of fish oil. Here they locked him in, and left him to meditate at leisure on the fate of those who have done to them, what they would do to others if they could. "Well," said Captain Bland, at the conclusion of this incident, "you young fellers always seem to have something interesting on hand; what are you going to do next? Are you going to skin out, or wait for the return of the French and English fleets? I'd like to know, 'cause I want to be getting a move on; but if there's going to be any more fun I expect I'll have to wait and take it in." "I expect our next move depends very largely on you, captain," replied White. "Are you still willing to trade your cargo for our pack?" "I might be, and then again I mightn't," answered the Yankee, as he meditatively chewed a blade of grass. "You see, the risk of the thing has been so increased during the past two days that I couldn't make nigh so good an offer now as I could at first. Also, here's so many claiming the pack of this factory that I'm in considerable doubt as to who is the rightful owner. First there's the Baldwin interest and the American interest, represented by you two chaps. Then there's the St. Johns interest, represented by that travelling man; the British interest, which is a mighty powerful one, seeing that it is supported by the English navy; the French government interest, which is likewise backed up by a fleet of warships, and the French factory interest, represented by our friend in limbo, who, though he isn't saying much just now, seems to have a pretty strong political pull. So, on the whole, the ownership appears to be muddled, and the pack itself subject to a good many conflicting claims. I expect also that the factory workmen and the lobster catchers have some sort of a lien on it for services rendered." "Look here, Captain Bland," said Cabot, "we understand perfectly that all you have just said is trade talk, made to depreciate the value of our goods, and you know as well as I do that they have but one rightful owner." "Who is that?" asked the skipper with an air of interest. "Mrs. William Baldwin." "But I thought she deeded the property to you." "So she did; but as I am not yet of age that deed is worth no more than the paper on which it is written." "You don't mean it. What a whopping big bluff it was then!" cried Captain Bland, admiringly. "Beats any I ever heard of, and I'm proud to know 'twas a Yankee that worked it. What you say does alter the situation considerable, and I'd like to have Miss Baldwin's own views on the subject of a trade." In accordance with this wish an adjournment was made to the house, where Mrs. Baldwin assured the Yankee skipper of her willingness to abide by any agreement made with him by her son and Mr. Grant. "Which so simplifies matters, ma'am," replied the captain, "that I think we may consider a trade as already effected, and make bold to say that this season's pack of the Pretty Harbour lobster factory will be sold somewhere's else besides Newfoundland." CHAPTER XIV. THE "SEA BEE" UNDER FIRE. The arrangement made with the Yankee skipper was satisfactory, save in one respect. He was willing to trade provisions for canned lobsters to the extent of taking the entire pack, and he also offered to remove the machinery outfit of the factory on the chance of finding a purchaser for it in the States, but he refused to make any cash advance on the goods. "I'm willing," he said, "to risk considerable for the sake of being accommodating, and with the hope of making a little something, but I can't afford to risk cold cash." "I don't see how we can make a trade, then," remarked White, as he and Cabot discussed the situation. "It will take every penny I've got to pay off the hands, and though I believe we could make a good thing out of a Labrador trip, I can't leave mother and Cola without a cent while I'm away. If he would only let me have fifty dollars----" "He won't, though," interrupted Cabot, "but I will. I have got just that amount of money with me, and, as I shan't have any use for it in Labrador, I should be more than pleased to leave it here for safe keeping." White at first refused to take his friend's money; but on Cabot's declaring that he had plenty more on deposit in St. Johns, he gratefully accepted the loan, which he promised to repay from the very first sale of goods they should make. Everything being thus arranged, preparations for departure were pushed with all speed. Such of the pack as remained in the factory was hurried aboard the "Ruth" by a score of willing workers, who also transferred to her every tool and bit of machinery, including the big kettles. Then she and the "Sea Bee," the latter manned by two of the Yankee sailors, with David Gidge as pilot, sailed from the harbour, and were lost to sight beyond its protecting headland. The next hour was spent in settling with the lobster catchers and those who had been employed in the factory, each of whom was warned to give no information concerning the movements of the two schooners. This was barely finished when the boy who had been posted outside immediately after the departure of the naval launches came hurrying in with news that both of them were returning. "My!" cried Cabot, "but I'd like to see the fun when they get here." "I am afraid you'd see more than enough of it," replied White, "for they'll be keen on getting us this time. So we'd best be starting. Hold on a minute, though; I want to leave proof behind that we haven't gone off with either of the schooners." With this he ran down to the oil house, in which their well-nigh forgotten prisoner was still confined. Flinging open the door, he said, in a tone of well-feigned regret: "It is too bad, Monsieur Delom, that you should have been kept so long in this wretched place, but I dared not attempt your release while those terrible Yankees were here. Now, however, they are gone and you are once more free. Also, as I realise that I can no longer maintain my factory here, you are at liberty to make what use you please of its contents. Accept my congratulations on your good fortune, monsieur. As for me, I must now leave you to prepare for my journey to St. Johns." With this White bade the bewildered Frenchman a mocking adieu, and left him still blinking at the sunlight from which he had been so long secluded. A few minutes later the Baldwin house again stood, closed and tenantless, while a cart driven by Cola, and accompanied by the two young men on foot, climbed the hill back of the village by a road leading to the nearest railway station. Monsieur Delom witnessed this departure, as did many others, but no one saw the cart leave the highway a little later and turn into a dim trail leading through an otherwise pathless forest. After a time it emerged from this on another road and came to a farmhouse to which Mrs. Baldwin had previously been taken. Here mother and son bade each other farewell, while the former also prayed for a blessing upon the stranger who had so befriended them, and whose fortunes had become so curiously linked with theirs. Then the cart with Cola still acting as driver rattled away, and was quickly lost to sight. It lacked but an hour of sunset when our refugees reached a pocket on the outer coast, in which the two schooners lay snugly, side by side, nearly filling the tiny harbour. On the beach David Gidge already waited, and, as the lads transferred their few effects to the boat that had brought him ashore, he climbed stiffly into the cart which Cola was to guide back over the way it had just come. "Good-bye, Cola," said Cabot, as he held for a moment the hand of the girl he had come to regard almost as a sister. "Try and have a lot of specimens ready for me when we come back." "Good-bye, sister!" cried White. "Take care of mother, and don't let her worry about us. We'll be back almost before you have time to miss us. Good-bye, David! I trust you to look out for them because you have promised." "Oh! how I wish I were a boy and going with you," exclaimed Cola. "It is so stupid to be left behind with nothing to do but just wait. Do please hurry back." "All right," replied her brother. "With good luck we'll sail into Pretty Harbour inside of a month, and perhaps with money enough to take us all to the States." "Oh, wouldn't that be splendid! Do get started, for the sooner you are off the quicker you'll come back," cried the girl. "That's so. Come on, Cabot," and in another minute the boat had shot out from the beach, while the cart was slowly climbing the rugged trail that led inland. On reaching the schooners our lads found Captain Bland impatiently awaiting them, since the transfer of goods was nearly completed, and he was anxious to get his compromising cargo away from the coast patrolled by those meddlesome frigates. "Let me once get beyond the three-mile limit," he said, "and I wouldn't mind meeting a fleet of 'em; if either one of 'em caught me in here, though, I'd not only stand to lose cargo, but schooner as well. So I reckon we'd best get a move on at once, and talk business while we tow out." As our lads wore equally desirous of gaining a safe distance from the authorities they had so openly defied, they readily agreed to Captain Bland's proposal, and four dories, each manned by a couple of stalwart Yankee fishermen, were ordered to tow the schooners from their snug hiding place. While this was going on, and White was busily engaged on the deck of the "Sea Bee," Cabot and Captain Bland were examining invoices and price lists in her cabin. "Here's a list of all I've put aboard," said the latter, "and you'll see I've only made a small freight charge over and above the cost price in Boston. Same time I've allowed for your pack the full market price on canned lobsters according to latest St. Johns quotations, and you ought not to sell a single barrel at less 'n one hundred per cent. clear profit. As for the kettles and tools, here's an order on my owners in Gloucester for them, or what they'll fetch less a freight charge, provided I get 'em there all right; but I want both you and young Baldwin to sign this release that frees me from all claims for loss of property in case anything happens to 'em." "I am perfectly willing to sign it," replied Cabot, "because I have no ownership in the property, but I shouldn't think Baldwin would care to give such a release." "I guess he will, though," said the skipper. And he was right, for White readily consented to sign the paper, saying that the property would have been lost anyhow if it had been left behind. "I have also full faith that Captain Bland will do the right thing about it," he added, "for, while I have always found you Yankees sharp as knives in a trade, I have yet to meet one whom I wouldn't trust." "Thank you, Mr. Baldwin," said the skipper, "and I shall try my best not to be the first to abuse your confidence." So the paper was signed, and White had barely laid down his pen when the occupants of the cabin were startled by a loud cry from above, followed almost immediately by a distant shot. Hurrying on deck they found that the schooner had reached open water and was beginning to feel the influence of an offshore breeze. At the same time the man whom White had left at the tiller was pointing up the coast, where they caught sight of a steam launch that had just cleared South Head. "He fired a shot at us," announced the steersman. "That's all right 'long's he didn't hit us," replied Captain Bland. "It is our French friend, and he only took that way of hinting that he wished us to wait for him. I don't think we can afford the time just now, though--leastways, I can't. Hello there in boats! Drop your tow lines and come alongside." "Do you think there is any chance of our getting away from him?" asked Cabot. "Dunno. Mebbe, if the breeze freshens, as I believe it will. Anyhow, I'm going to give him a race for his money. Good-bye! Good luck, and I hope we'll meet again before long." So saying Captain Bland, taking the steersman with him, stepped into a dory that had come alongside and was rowed towards his own schooner. He had hardly gained her deck before she set main and jib topsails and a big main staysail. Our lads also sprang to their own sails, and spread to the freshening breeze every stitch of canvas that the "Sea Bee" possessed. When they next found time to look at the "Ruth," White uttered an exclamation of astonishment, for she had already gained a good half mile on them and was moving with the speed of a steam yacht. "There's no chance of the Yankee being caught," he said enviously, "but there's a mighty big one that we will." Although the "Sea Bee" was holding a course in the wake of the "Ruth," and was heeled handsomely over before the same freshening breeze, she was not doing so well by a half, and it was evident that in a long run the launch must overtake her. "She is certainly gaining on us," said Cabot, after a long look, and he had hardly spoken before a second shot from the launch plumped a ball into the water abreast of the little schooner and not two rods away. White, who was at the tiller, glanced nervously backward. "Do you want to heave to and let them overhaul us?" he asked. "Certainly not," replied Cabot promptly. "They have no right to meddle with us out here, and I would keep straight on without paying the slightest attention to them until they either sink us or get alongside." "All right," laughed the other. "I only wanted to make sure how you felt. Some fellows, you know, don't like to have cannon balls fired at them." CHAPTER XV. OFF FOR LABRADOR. Slowly but surely the launch gained on the flying schooner, until, as the sun was sinking behind its western horizon of water, she fired a shot that passed through the "Sea Bee's" mainsail and fell a hundred yards beyond her. "Wh-e-e-w!" exclaimed White, as he glanced up at the clean-cut hole. "That's rather too close for comfort, and I shouldn't be surprised if the next one made splinters fly. However, it will soon be dark, and then, if we are not disabled, we may be able to give them the slip." "I don't believe there's going to be another shot," cried Cabot, who was gazing eagerly astern. "No--yes--hurrah! They are turning back. They have given it up, old man, and we are safe. Bully for us! I wonder what possesses them to do such a thing, though, when they had so nearly caught us?" "Can't imagine," replied White, who was also staring at the launch, which certainly had circled back and was making towards the place whence she had come. "They are afraid to be caught out at sea after dark perhaps. I always understood that Frenchmen made mighty poor sailors. Lucky thing for us she wasn't a British launch, for they'd have kept on around the world but what they'd had us." In justice to the Frenchmen it should be said that their reason for turning back, which our lads did not learn until long afterwards, was the imminent exhaustion of their coal supply, which, not calculated for a long cruise, would barely serve to carry them back to the Bay of Islands. By the time the launch was lost to sight in the growing dusk the "Ruth" had also disappeared. She was headed southward when last seen, and now White said it was time that they, too, were turning towards their ultimate destination. So, topsails and mainstaysail were taken in, and the helm was put down until fore and mainsails jibed over. Then sheets were trimmed until the little schooner, with lee rail awash, was running something east of north, on an easy bowline, carrying a bone in her teeth and leaving a bubbling wake trailing far astern. With everything thus satisfactorily in shape, White lighted the binnacle lamp, and giving Cabot a course to steer, went below to prepare the first meal of their long cruise. "You must keep a sharp lookout," he said as he disappeared down the companionway, "for I don't dare show any lights. So if we are run into we'll have only ourselves to blame." Left thus to his own devices, Cabot realised for the first time the responsibility of his position and began to reflect seriously upon what he had done. Until this time one disturbing event had followed another so rapidly that he had been borne along almost without a thought of what he was doing or of the consequences. As a result, instead of carrying out the purpose for which he had been sent to Newfoundland, and studying its mineral resources, he now found himself forced into flight for having defied the authorities of the island, embarked upon a doubtful trading venture into one of the wildest and least known portions of the continent, and, with but a slight knowledge of seamanship, engaged in navigating a small sailing vessel across one of its stormiest seas. What would his guardian and employer say could he know all this and see him at the present moment? "I wish he could, though," exclaimed Cabot half aloud, "for it would be fun to watch his look of amazement and hear his remarks. I suppose he is wondering what has become of that Bell Island report I was to send in the first thing, and I guess he'll have to wonder for some time longer, as St. Johns is about the last place I feel like visiting just at present. I certainly have made a mess of my affairs, though, so far, and it looks as if I had only just begun, too. At the same time I don't see how I could have acted differently. I tried hard enough to reach St. Johns, and would have got there all right if it hadn't been for this factory business. But when the fellow who saved my life got into trouble, from which I could help him out, I'm sure even Mr. Hepburn would say I was bound to do it. Besides, I have found one promising outcrop of copper, and now I'm off for Labrador; so perhaps things will turn out all right after all. Anyway I'm learning how to sail a boat, and that is something every fellow ought to know. I wish it wasn't so awfully dark though, and that White would hurry up with that supper, for I am powerful hungry. How good it smells, and what a fine chap he is. Falling in with him was certainly a great bit of luck. But how this confounded compass wabbles, and how the schooner jumps off her course if I lift my eyes from it for a single instant. I don't see why she can't go straight if I hold the tiller perfectly still. There's a star dead ahead, and I guess I'll steer by it. Then I can keep the sharp lookout White spoke of at the same time." Thus deciding, the anxious helmsman fixed his gaze upon the newly risen star that he had just discovered, and wondered admiringly at its rapid increase in brilliancy. After a little he rubbed his eyes and looked again at two more stars that had suddenly appeared above the horizon directly below the first one. "Never saw red and green stars before," Cabot muttered. "Must be peculiar to this high latitude. Wonder if they can be stars, though? Oh! what a chump I am. White! I say, White, come up here quick!" In obedience to this summons the young skipper thrust his head from the companionway. "What's up?" he asked. "Don't know exactly," replied Cabot, "but there is a lighthouse or a dock or something right in front of us." "Steamer!" cried White as he sprang on deck and glanced ahead. "Keep her away, quick. I don't want them to sight us." "Steamer," repeated Cabot as he obeyed this order and let the schooner fall off to leeward. "I never thought of such a thing as a steamer away up here. Do you mean that she is a frigate?" "No," laughed White. "There are other steamers besides frigates even in these waters, and that is one of them. She is the 'Harlaw,' from Flower Cove, near the northern end of the island, and bound for Halifax. It's mighty lucky she didn't pass us by daylight." "Why?" "Because she is already heading in for the Bay of Islands and would have reported us as soon as she got there. Then we would have had a frigate after us sure enough." "But how do you know she's a steamer? Mightn't she be a sailing vessel!" "Not with that white light at her foremast head. Sailing vessels aren't allowed to show any above their side lights. Now go below and eat your supper while I take her." This eating alone was such an unpleasant feature of the cruise that, as Cabot sat down to his solitary meal, he regretted having persuaded White to leave David Gidge behind. "I am afraid this going to sea shorthanded will prove a false economy after all," he said to himself, thereby reaching a conclusion that has been forced upon seafaring men since ships first sailed the ocean. Finishing his supper as quickly as possible, Cabot rejoined his companion, and begged him also to hurry that they might bear each other company on deck. "All right," agreed White, "only, of course, I shall be longer than you were, for I have to wash and put away the dishes." "Oh, bother the dishes!" exclaimed Cabot "Let them go till morning." "Not much. We haven't any too many dishes as it is, nor a chance of getting any more, and if I should leave them where they are we probably wouldn't have any by morning. Besides, it wouldn't be tidy, and an untidy ship is worse than an untidy house, because you can't get away from it. But I won't be long." True to his promise, White, bringing with him a heavy oilskin coat and an armful of blankets, speedily rejoined his comrade, who was by this time shivering in the chill night air. "Put this on," said the young skipper, tendering Cabot the oilskin, "and then I am going to ask you to stand first watch. I will roll up in these blankets and sleep here on deck, so that you can get me up at a moment's notice. You want to wake me at midnight, anyhow, when I will take the morning watch." "Very well," agreed Cabot resignedly. "I suppose you know what is best to be done, but it seems to me that we are arranging for a very lonesome cruise on regular Box and Cox lines." As White had no knowledge of Box and Cox he did not reply to this grumble, but, rolling up in his blankets until he resembled a huge cocoon, almost instantly dropped asleep. During the next four hours Cabot, shivering with cold and aching with weariness, but never once allowing his tired eyes to close, remained at his post. Through the black night, and over the still darker waters, he guided the flying schooner according to the advice of the unstable compass card that formed the only spot of light within his whole range of vision. At the same time, knowing how little of skill he possessed in this new line of business, and not yet having a sailor's confidence in the craft that bore him, he was filled with such a fear of the night, the wind, the leaping waters, and a thousand imaginary dangers that his hardest struggle was against an ever-present impulse to arouse his sleeping comrade. But he would not yield, and finally had the satisfaction of coming unaided to the end of his watch. "Midnight, and all hands on deck," he shouted, and White, springing up, asked: "What's happened? Anything gone wrong?" "Nothing yet," replied Cabot, "but something will happen if you leave me at this wretched tiller a minute longer." "I won't," laughed the other. "It will only take me half a minute to get an eye-opener in shape of a cup of cold tea, and then you can turn in." When Cabot was at length free to seek his bunk he turned in all standing, only kicking off his boots. The very next thing of which he was conscious was being shaken and told that breakfast was ready. It was broad daylight; the sun was shining; the breeze had so moderated that White had been able to leave the schooner to herself with a lashed helm while he prepared breakfast, and as Cabot tumbled out he wondered if he had really been anxious and fearful a few hours earlier. All that day and through the following night our lads kept watch and watch while the "Sea Bee" travelled up the coast. Early on the second morning they passed Flower Cove, and from this point White headed directly across the Strait of Belle Isle, which, here, is but a dozen miles in width. Then, as Newfoundland grew dim behind them, a new coast backed by a range of lofty hills came into view ahead; and, in answer to Cabot's eager question, White said: "Yes, that is Labrador, and those are the Bradore Hills back of Forteau." CHAPTER XVI. MOSQUITOES OF THE FAR NORTH. While Cabot gazed eagerly at the lofty but still distant coast towards which all their hopes were now directed, his companion was casting anxious glances to the eastward, where a low hanging bank of cloud betokened an advancing fog. He had good reason to be apprehensive, for this northern entrance to the gulf of St. Lawrence forms the shortest route for steamers plying between Canadian and European ports. Consequently many of them use it during the brief summer season when it is free from ice. At the same time it is a stormy stretch of water, tormented by powerful currents, and generally shrouded in fog. Early in the season countless icebergs, borne southward by the Arctic current that hugs the Labrador coast, drift aimlessly over its troubled surface, and even at midsummer it is a passage to be dreaded. White, being familiar with its many dangers, had good cause for anxiety, as he saw one of them about to enfold his little craft. He consulted the compass, took his bearings with the utmost care, and then as Cabot, finding his view obscured, turned to him with a look of inquiry, remarked: "Yes, we are in for it, and you'd better keep a sharp lookout for steamers. It wouldn't be very pleasant to run one down and sink it, you know." "I should say not," responded Cabot as he started for the bow of the schooner, where, steadying himself by a stay, he peered into the thickening mist curtain. For half an hour or so he saw nothing, though during that time the hoarse bellowing of a steam whistle, approaching closely and then receding, told of a passing ship. While the lookout was still listening to this a black form, magnified to gigantic size by his apprehensions and the opaqueness through which he saw it, loomed up directly ahead and apparently not a rod away. With a sharp cry of warning the lad sprang aft, while a yell of dismay came from the stranger. The next moment, both vessels having been headed sharply into the wind, lay side by side, heaving and grinding against each other, with their sails slatting noisily overhead. As our lads realised the true character of the other craft, they were ready to laugh at their fright of a minute earlier, for she was only an open fishing boat, carrying three men, a woman, and a couple of children. "We took ye for a steamer, first sight," remarked one of the men. "And we did the same by you," laughed White. "Who are you and where are you bound?" "Mail boat from L'Anse Au Loup for Flower Cove," replied the man, "and as we're not sure of our compass we'd be obleeged if you'd give us a bearing." "With pleasure. Come aboard and take it for yourself. If you'll wait just a minute I'll have a letter ready for you." So saying the young skipper dived below and hastily pencilled a line to his mother, telling of their safety up to that time. While he was thus engaged Cabot learned that owing to the recent arrival of a steamer from St. Johns provisions were plentiful on that part of the Labrador coast, but were believed to be scarce further north. As a result of this information the "Sea Bee" was headed more to the eastward after the boats had again parted company, for, as White said, there was no use wasting time running in to Blanc Sablon, Forteau, or any of those places at which the trading steamer had touched. "It is too bad," he continued, "for I did hope to dispose of our cargo somewhere along here. If we could do that we might be home again inside of ten days. Now, if we have to go far to the northward, it may be two or three weeks longer before we again sight Blomidon." "I am sorry for your sake," replied Cabot, "though I would just as soon spend a month up here as not. I only wish we could land somewhere along here, for I am curious to see what land of a country Labrador is." This wish was gratified late that afternoon, when the fog lifted in time to disclose the fine harbour of Red Bay, into which, White said, they would run, so as to spend the night quietly at anchor, with both watches turned in at once. At Red Bay, therefore, Cabot had his first taste of life in Labrador. The shores looked so green and attractive that he wondered why the only settlement in sight--a collection of a dozen huts and fish houses, should be located on a rocky islet, bare and verdureless. He asked White, who only laughed, and said he'd find out soon enough by experience. After they had come to anchor and lowered the sails, White got an empty water cask into the dinghy, saying that first of all they must go about a mile to a trout stream at the head of the bay for some fresh water. "Trout stream!" cited Cabot. "How I wish I had my fishing tackle. Trout for supper would be fine." "There are other things equally important with tackle for trout fishing in this country," remarked White. "What, for instance?" "You'll know inside of half an hour," was the significant reply. So they rowed up the bay, Cabot filled with curiosity and White chuckling with anticipation. The further they went the more was Cabot charmed with the beauty of the scene and the more desirous did he become to ramble over the green slopes on which, as White assured him, delicious berries of several varieties were plentiful. At length they opened a charming valley, through which wound and tumbled a sparkling brook thickly bordered by alders and birches. At one side were several substantial log cabins, but as they were evidently uninhabited Cabot began to undress, declaring that he must have a bath in that tempting water. "Better keep your shirt on until we have filled the cask," advised White, at the same time stepping overboard in the shallows at the mouth of the stream without removing any of his clothing. They pulled the boat up until it grounded, and then White began hurriedly to fill the water barrel, while Cabot waded a short distance up stream to see if he could discover any trout. All at once he stopped, looked bewildered, and then started back on a run. At the same time he slapped vigorously at his bare legs, brushed his face, waved his arms, and uttered exclamations of frantic dismay. The air about him had been suddenly blackened by an incredible swarm of insects that issued in dense clouds from the low growth bordering the stream, and attacked the unfortunate youth with the fury of starvation. "What's the matter?" inquired White innocently, as his companion rushed past him towards the open. "Matter!" retorted the other. "I'm on fire with the bites of these infernal things, and we want to get out of here in a hurry or they'll sting us to death." "Oh, pshaw!" laughed White, though he also was suffering greatly. "You've only struck a few ordinary Labrador mosquitoes and black flies." "Mosquitoes and black flies!" cried Cabot. "Hornets and red-hot coals, you'd better say. How can you stand them? Your skin must be thicker than sole leather." "I can't very well," admitted White, "but this cask has got to be filled, and the sooner we do it the quicker we can get away. Break off a couple of leafy branches to fight with and then keep 'em off both of us as well as you can. It will only take a few minutes longer." In spite of their efforts at self-defence, faces, hands, and Cabot's bare legs were covered with blood before their task was completed, and they were once more in the boat pulling furiously for the wind-swept water of the open bay. "I never expected to find mosquitoes this far north," said Cabot, as the pests began to disappear before the freshening breeze and the rowers paused for breath. "Strangers are apt to be unpleasantly surprised by them," replied White, "but they are here all the same, and they extend as far north as any white man has ever been. I have been told that they are as bad in Greenland as here, and I expect they flourish at the North Pole itself. They certainly are the curse of Labrador, and until ice makes in the fall they effectually prevent all travel into the interior. Even the Indians have to come to the coast in summer to escape them, while the whites who visit this country for the fishing make their settlements on the barest and most wind-swept places. The few who live here the year round have summer homes on the coast, but build their winter houses inland, at the heads of bays or the mouths of rivers, where there is timber to afford some protection from the cold. Those are winter houses back there." "I wondered why they were abandoned," said Cabot, "but I don't any longer." "By the way," suggested White, "you forgot to try the trout fishing. Shall we go back?" "I wouldn't go fishing on that stream if every trout in it was of solid gold and I could scoop them out with my hands," asserted Cabot. "In fact, I don't know of anything short of starvation, or dying of thirst, that would take me back there." After supper our lads went ashore at the island settlement, and were hospitably received by the dwellers in its half-dozen stoutly built, earthen-roofed houses. These were constructed of logs, set on end like palisades, and while they were scantily furnished, they were warm and comfortable. In them Cabot, who was regarded with great curiosity on account of having come from the far foreign city of New York, asked many questions, and acquired much information concerning the strange country to which Fate had brought him. Thus he learned that Labrador is a province of Newfoundland, and that while its prolific fisheries attract some 20,000 people to its bleak shores every summer, its entire resident white population hardly exceeds one thousand souls. He was told that from June to October news of the outside world is received by steamer from St. Johns every two or three weeks, but that during the other eight months of the year only three mails reach the country, coming by dog sledge from far-away Quebec. While Cabot was gathering these and many other interesting bits of information, White was becoming confirmed in his belief that to make a successful trading trip he must carry his goods far to the northward. So at daybreak of the following morning the "Sea Bee" was once more got under way, and ran up the rock-bound coast past Chateau Bay, with its superb Castle Rock, to Battle Harbour, the metropolis of Labrador, which place was reached late the same evening. At this point, which is at the eastern end of the Belle Isle Strait, is a resident population of some two hundred souls, a hospital, a church, a schoolhouse, and a prosperous mercantile establishment. Here our lads found a large steamer loading with dried fish for Gibraltar, and here Cabot became greatly interested in the rose-tinted quartz that forms so striking a feature of Labrador scenery. At Battle Harbour they were still advised to push farther on, and so, bidding farewell to this outpost of civilisation, the "Sea Bee" again spread her dusky wings and set forth for the mission stations of the far North, where it was hoped a profitable market might be found. CHAPTER XVII. IMPRISONED BY AN ICEBERG. The brief northern summer was nearly ended. Its days were growing short and chill, its nights long and cold. The month of October was well advanced, and flurries of snow heralded the approach of winter. Most of the Labrador fishing fleet had already sailed away, and the few boats still left were preparing for a speedy departure. The last steamer of the season had come and gone, and the few permanent residents of the country were moving back from the coast into winter quarters. Great flocks of geese streamed southward, and with harsh cries gave warning of the icy terrors that had driven them from their Arctic nesting places. Night after night the wonderful beauties of the aurora borealis were flashed across the northern heavens with ever increasing brilliancy. Every one predicted a hard winter, and everything pointed to its early coming. Nearly two months had elapsed since the little schooner "Sea Bee," manned by a couple of plucky lads, sailed out of Battle Harbour on a trading venture to the northern missions, and from that day no tidings had been received concerning her. The few who remembered her, occasionally speculated as to what success she had met and why she had not put in ah appearance on her return voyage, but generally dismissed the subject by saying that she must have been in too great a hurry to get south, as any one having a chance to leave that forsaken country naturally would be. But the "Sea Bee" had not gone to the southward, nor was there any likelihood of her doing so for many long months to come. On one of the mildest of these October days, when the sunshine still held a trace of its summer warmth, a solitary figure stood on the crest of a bald headland, some hundreds of miles to the north of Battle Harbour, gazing wistfully out over the lead-coloured waters that came leaping and snarling towards the red rocks far beneath him. He had on great sea boots that stood sadly in need of mending, and was clad in heavy woollens, faded and worn, that showed many a rent and patch. As he leaned on the stout staff that had assisted him in climbing, his figure seemed bent as though by age, but when he lifted his, face, tanned brown by long exposure, the downy moustache on his upper lip proclaimed his youth. Altogether the change in his appearance was so great that his most intimate friend would hardly have recognised in him the youth who had been called the best dressed man in the T. I. class of '99 a few months earlier. But the voice with which he finally broke the silence of his long reverie was unmistakably that of Cabot Grant. [Illustration: A solitary figure stood on the crest of a bald headland.] "Heigh ho!" he sighed, as he cast a sweeping glance over the widespread waste of waters on which nothing floated save a few belated icebergs, and then inland over weary miles of desolate upland barrens, treeless, moss-covered, and painfully rugged. "It is tough luck to be shut up here like birds in a cage, with no chance of the door being opened before next summer. It is tougher on Baldwin, though, than on me, and if he can stand it I guess I can. But I suppose I might as well be getting back or he will be worrying about me." Thus saying, Cabot picked up a canvas bag that lay at his feet and moved slowly away. A very serious misfortune had befallen our lads, and for more than a month the "Sea Bee," though still afloat and as sound as ever, had been unable to move from the position she now occupied. After leaving Battle Harbour her voyage to the northward had not been more than ordinarily eventful, though subject to many and irritating delays. Not only had there been adverse winds, but she had twice been stormbound for days in harbours to which she had run for shelter. Then, too, White had insisted on stopping at every settlement that promised a chance for trading, and had even run fifty miles up Hamilton Inlet with the hope of finding customers for his goods at the half-breed village of Rigoulette. But he had always been disappointed. Either his goods were not in demand, or those who desired them had nothing to offer in exchange but fish, which he did not care to take. And always he was told of a scarcity of food still farther north. So the voyage had been continued in that direction along a coast that ever grew wilder, grander, and more inhospitable. In the meantime Cabot was delighted at the opportunities thus given him for getting acquainted with the country, and made short exploring trips from every port at which they touched. From some of these he came back sadly bitten by the insect pests of the interior, and from others he brought quantities of blueberries, pigeon berries that looked and tasted like wild cranberries, or yellow, raspberry-like "bake apples," resembling the salmon berries of Alaska. Also he picked up numerous rock and mineral specimens that he afterwards carefully labelled. Finally, when they had passed the last fishing station of which they had any knowledge, and had only the missions to look forward to, they were overtaken, while far out at sea, by a furious gale that sorely buffeted them for twenty-four hours, and, in spite of their strenuous efforts, drove them towards the coast. The gale was accompanied by stinging sleet and blinding snow squalls, and at length blew with such violence that they could no longer show the smallest patch of canvas. In this emergency White constructed a sea anchor, by means of which he hoped to prolong their struggle for at least a few hours. It was hardly got overboard, however, before a giant surge snapped its cable and hurled the little craft helplessly towards the crash and smother with which the furious seas warred against an iron coast. In addition to the other perils surrounding our lads, the gloom of impending night was upon them, and they could only dimly distinguish the towering cliffs against which they expected shortly to be dashed. Both of them stood by the tiller, grimly silent, and using the last of their strength to keep their craft head on, for in the trough of that awful sea she would have rolled over like a log. Neither of them flinched nor showed a sign of fear, though both fully realised the fate awaiting them. At last, with the send of a giant billow, the little schooner was flung bodily into the roaring whiteness, and, with hearts that seemed already to have ceased their beating, the poor lads braced themselves for the final shock. To their unbounded amazement the "Sea Bee," instead of dashing against the cliffs, appeared to pass directly into them as though they were but shadows of a solid substance, and in another minute had shot, like an arrow from a bow, through a rift barely wide enough to afford her passage. As her stupefied crew slowly realised that a reprieve from death had been granted at the last moment, they also became aware that they were in a place of absolute darkness, and, save for the muffled outside roar of furious seas, of absolute quiet. At the same time they were so exhausted after their recent prolonged struggle that they found barely strength to get overboard an anchor. Then, careless of everything else, they tumbled into their bunks for the rest and sleep they so sadly needed. When they next awoke it was broad daylight, and their first move was to hasten on deck for a view of their surroundings. Their craft lay as motionless as a painted ship, in the middle of a placid pool black as a highland tarn. In no place was it more than a pistol shot in width, and it was enclosed by precipitous cliffs that towered hundreds of feet above her. The schooner could not have been more happily located by one possessed of an absolute knowledge of the coast under the most favourable conditions, and that she should have come there as she had was nothing short of a miracle. Filled with thankfulness for their marvellous escape the lads gazed about them curious to discover by what means they had gained this haven of refuge. On three sides they could see only the grim fronts of inaccessible cliffs. On the fourth was a strip of beach and a cleft through which poured a plume-like waterfall white as a wreath of driven snow. "Did we come in that way?" asked Cabot, pointing to this torrent of silver spray. "I suppose we must have," rejoined White soberly; "for I can't see any other opening, and it certainly felt last night as though we were sailing over the brink of a dozen waterfalls. But let's get breakfast, for I'm as hungry as a wolf. Then there'll be time enough to find out how we got in here, as well as how we are to get out again." After a hearty meal they got the dinghy overboard and started on a tour of exploration. First they visited the beach and found a rude pathway leading up beside the waterfall that promised exit from the basin to an active climber. "In spite of all the wonderful happenings of last night I don't believe we came in that way," said Cabot. "No," laughed White, "the old 'Bee's' wings aren't quite strong enough for that yet, though there's no saying what she may do with practice." Satisfied that there was no outlet for a sailing craft in this direction, they pulled towards the opposite side of the basin, but not until they were within a few rods of its cliffs did they discover an opening which was so black with shadow that it had heretofore escaped their notice. "Here it is," cried Cabot, "though----" His speech was cut suddenly short, and for a moment he stared in silent amazement. The farther end of the passage was completely filled by what appeared a gigantic mass of white rock. "An iceberg!" exclaimed the young skipper, who was the first to recognise the true nature of the obstacle. "An iceberg driven in by the gale and jammed. Now we are in a fix." "I should say as much," responded Cabot, "for there isn't space enough to let a rowboat out, much less a schooner. No wonder this water is as still as that in a corked bottle. What shall we do now?" "Wait until it melts, I suppose," replied White gloomily, "or until the outside seas batter it away." So our lads had waited unhappily and impatiently for more than a month, and still the ice barrier was as immovable as ever. Also, as the weather was growing steadily cooler, its melting became less and less with each succeeding day. During this period of enforced imprisonment they had made several exploring trips into the interior, but had failed to find trace of human life; nor were they able to go far either north or south on account of impassable waterways. Neither could they discover any timber from which to obtain firewood, and as the supply on the schooner was nearly exhausted their outlook for the future grew daily more and more gloomy. For a while they had hoped to signal some passing vessel, and one or the other of them made daily trips to the most prominent headland of the vicinity, where he kept a lookout for hours. But this also proved fruitless, for but two vessels had been sighted, and neither of these paid any attention to their signals. Thus the open season passed, and with the near approach of an Arctic winter the situation of our imprisoned lads grew so desperate that they were filled with the gloomiest forebodings. CHAPTER XVIII. FIRST ENCOUNTER WITH THE NATIVES. Only once during their tedious imprisonment had our lads received evidence that human beings existed in that desolate country, and after they gained this information they hardly knew whether to rejoice or to regret that it had come to them. One morning, some weeks after their arrival in the basin, to which they had given the name of "Locked Harbour," Cabot, going on deck for a breath of air, made a discovery so startling that, for a moment, he could hardly credit the evidence of his eyes. Then he shouted to White: "Come up here quick, old man, and take in the sight." As the latter, who had been lighting a fire in the galley stove, obeyed this call, Cabot pointed to the beach, on which stood a row of human figures, gazing at the schooner as stolidly as so many graven images. "Indians!" cried White, "and perhaps we can get them to show us the way to the nearest mission." "Good enough!" rejoined Cabot in high excitement. "Let's go ashore and interview them before they have a chance to disappear as mysteriously as they have appeared. Where do you suppose they came from?" "Can't imagine, and doubt if they'll ever tell. Probably they are wondering the same thing about us. I suppose, though, they are on their way towards the interior for the winter. But hold on a minute. We must take them some sort of a present. Grub is what they'll be most likely to appreciate, for the natives of this country are always hungry." Acting upon his own suggestion, White dived below, to reappear a minute later with a bag of biscuit and a generous piece of salt pork, which he tossed into the dinghy. Then the excited lads pulled for the beach on which the strangers still waited in motionless expectation. "Only a woman, a baby, and three children," remarked White, in a tone of disappointment, as they approached near enough to scrutinise the group. "Still, I suppose they can guide us out of here as well as any one else if they only will." The strangers were as White had discovered--a woman and children, but one of these latter was a half-grown boy of such villainous appearance that Cabot promptly named him "Arsenic," because his looks were enough to poison anything. They were clad in rags, and were so miserably thin that they had evidently been on short rations for a long time. White's belief that they were hungry was borne out by the ravenous manner with which they fell upon the provisions he presented to them. Arsenic seized the piece of pork and whipping out a knife cut it into strips, which he, his mother, and his sisters devoured raw, as though it were a delicacy to which they had long been strangers. The hard biscuit also made a magical disappearance, and when all were gone, Arsenic, looking up with a hideous grin, uttered the single word: "More." "Good!" cried Cabot, "he can talk English. Now look here, young man, if we give you more--all you can carry, in fact, of pork, bread, flour, tea, and sugar, will you show us the road to the nearest mission--Ramah, Nain, or Hopedale?" "Tea, shug," replied the boy, with an expectant grin. "Yes, tea, sugar, and a lot of other things if you'll show us the way to Nain. You understand?" "Tea, shug," repeated the young Indian, again grinning. "We wantee git topside Nain. You sabe, Nain?" asked Cabot, pointing to his companion and himself, and then waving his hand comprehensively at the inland landscape. "Tea, shug, more," answered the young savage, promptly, while his relatives regarded him admiringly as one who had mastered the art of conversing with foreigners. "Perhaps he understands English better, or rather more, than he speaks it," suggested White. "It is to be hoped that he does," replied Cabot. "Even then he might not comprehend more than one word in a thousand. But I tell you what. Let's go and get our own breakfast, pack up what stuff we intend to carry, make the schooner as snug as possible, and come back to the beach. Here we'll show these beggars what stuff we've brought, and give them to understand that it shall all be theirs when they get us to Nain. Then we'll start them up the trail, and follow wherever they lead. They are bound to fetch up somewhere. Even if they don't take us where we want to go, we will have provisions enough to last us a week or more, and can surely find our way back." "I hate to leave them, for they might skip out while we were gone," objected White. "That's so. Well then, why not invite them on board? They'll be safe there until we are ready to go. Say, Arsenic, you all come with we all to shipee, sabe? Get tea, sugar, plenty, eat heap, you understand?" As Cabot said this he made motions for all the natives to enter the dinghy, and then pointed to the schooner. It was evident that he was understood, and equally so that the woman declined his proposition, for she sat motionless, holding her baby, and with the younger children close by her side. The boy, however, expressed his willingness to visit the schooner by entering the dinghy and seating himself in its stern. "That will do," said White. "The others won't run away without him, and he is the only one we want anyhow." So the boat was rowed out to the anchored schooner, while those left on the beach watched the departure of their son and brother with the same apathy that they had shown towards all the other happenings of that eventful morning. "Look at the young scarecrow, taking things as coolly as though he had always been used to having white men row him about a harbour," laughed Cabot, "and yet I don't suppose he was ever in a regular boat before." "No," agreed White, "I don't suppose he ever was." They did not allow Arsenic to enter the "Sea Bee's" cabin, but made him stay on deck, where, however, he appeared perfectly contented and at his ease. Here Cabot brought the various supplies for their proposed journey and put them up in neat packages while White prepared breakfast. The former had supposed that their guest would be greatly interested in what he was doing, but the young savage manifested the utmost indifference to all that took place. In fact he seemed to pay no attention to Cabot's movements, but squatted on the deck, and gazed in silent meditation at the beach, where his mother and sisters could be seen also seated in motionless expectation. "I believe he is a perfect idiot," muttered Cabot, "and wonder that he knows enough to eat when he's hungry." Then White called him, and he went below to breakfast. "Do you think it is safe to leave that chap alone on deck with all those things?" asked the former. "Take a look at him and see for yourself," replied Cabot. So White crept noiselessly up the companion ladder and peeped cautiously out. Arsenic still squatted where Cabot had left him, gazing idiotically off into space. At the same time a close observer might have imagined that his beady eyes twinkled with a gleam of interest as White's head appeared above the companion coaming. "I guess it is all right," said White, rejoining his friend. "Of course it is. He couldn't swim ashore with the things, and there isn't any other way he could make off with them, except by taking them in the dinghy, and that chump couldn't any more manage a boat than a cow." In spite of this assertion Cabot finished his meal with all speed, and then hurried on deck, where he uttered a cry of dismay. A single glance showed him that their guest, together with all the supplies prepared for their journey, was no longer where he had left him. A second glance disclosed the dinghy half way to the beach, while in her stern, sculling her swiftly along with practised hand, stood the wooden-headed young savage who didn't know how to manage a boat. "Come back here, you sneak thief, or I'll fill you full of lead," yelled Cabot, and as the Indian paid not the slightest attention he drew his revolver and fired. He never knew where the bullet struck, but it certainly did not reach the mark he intended, for Arsenic merely increased the speed of his boat without even looking back. So angry that he hardly realised what he was doing, Cabot cocked his pistol and attempted to fire again, but the lock only snapped harmlessly, and there was no report. Then he remembered that he had expended several shots the day before in a fruitless effort to attract attention on board a distant vessel seen from the lookout, and had neglected to reload. As he started for the cabin in quest of more cartridges he came into collision with White hurrying on deck. "What is the matter?" inquired the latter, as soon as he regained the breath thus knocked out of him. "Oh, nothing at sill," replied Cabot, with ironical calmness, "only we've been played for a couple of hayseeds by a wooden-faced young heathen who don't know enough to go in when it rains. In his childish folly he has gone off with the dinghy, taking our provisions along as a souvenir of his visit, and he didn't even have the politeness to look round when I spoke to him. Oh! but it will be a chilly day for little Willy if I catch him again." "I am glad you only spoke," remarked White. "When I heard you shoot I didn't know but what you had murdered him." "Wish I had," growled Cabot, savagely. "Look at him now, and consider the cheek of the plain, every-day North American savage." It was aggravating to see the young thief gain the beach and lift from the boat the provisions he had so deftly acquired. It was even more annoying to see the embryo warrior's grateful family pounce upon the prizes of his bow and spear, and to be forced to listen to the joyous cries with which they greeted their returned hero. Filled now with a bustling activity, the Indians quickly divided the spoil according to their strength; and then, without one backward glance, or a single look towards the schooner, they started up the narrow trail by the waterfall, with the triumphant Arsenic heading the procession, and in another minute had disappeared. As the last fluttering rag vanished from sight, our lads, who had watched the latter part of this performance in silent wrath, turned to each other and burst out laughing. "It was a dirty, mean, low-down trick!" cried Cabot. "At the same time he played it with a dexterity that compels my admiration. Now, what shall we do?" "I suppose one of us will have to swim ashore and get that boat." "What, through ice water? You are right, though, and as I am the biggest chump, I'll go." Cabot was as good as his word, and did swim to the beach, though, as he afterwards said, he did not know whether his first plunge was made into ice water or molten lead. Then he and White followed the trail of their recent guests to the crest of the bluffs, but could not discover what direction they had taken from that point. So they returned to the schooner sadder but wiser than before, and wondered whether they were better or worse off on account of the recent visitation. "If they carry news of us to one of the missions we will be better off," argued Cabot. "But, if they don't, we are worse off, by at least the value of our stolen provisions," replied White. CHAPTER XIX. A MELANCHOLY SITUATION. In Labrador, under ordinary circumstances, the loss of such a quantity of provisions as Arsenic had carried away would have been a very serious misfortune. But food was the one thing our lads had in abundance, and they were more unhappy at having lost a guide, who might have shown them a way out of their prison, than over the theft he had so successfully accomplished. "The next time we catch an Indian we'll tie a string to him," said Cabot. "Yes," agreed White, "and it will be a stout one, too; but I am afraid there won't be any more Indians on the coast this season." "How about Eskimo?" "Some of them may come along later, when the snowshoeing and sledging get good enough, for they are apt to travel pretty far south during the winter. Still, there's no knowing how far back from the coast their line of travel may lie at this point, and dozens of them might pass without our knowledge." "Couldn't we go up or down the coast as well as an Eskimo, whenever these miserable waterways freeze over?" asked Cabot. "Of course, if we had sledges, dogs, snowshoes, and fur clothing," replied White; "but without all these things we might just as well commit suicide before starting." "Well, I'll tell you what we can do right off, and the sooner we set about it the better. We can go inland as far as possible, and leave a line of flags or some sort of signals that will attract attention to this place." "I don't know but what that is a good idea," remarked White, thoughtfully. "At any rate, it would be better than doing nothing, and if we don't get help in some way we shall certainly freeze to death in this place long before the winter is over." So Cabot's suggestion was adopted, and the remainder of that day was spent in preparing little flags of red and white cloth, attaching them to slender sticks, and in making a number of wooden arrows. On a smooth side of these they wrote: "Help! We are stranded on the coast." "I wish we could write it in Eskimo and Indian," said Cabot, "for English doesn't seem to be the popular language of this country." "The flags and arrows will be a plain enough language for any natives who may run across them," responded White, "and I only hope they'll see them; but it is a slim chance, and we'll probably be frozen stiff long before any one finds us." "Oh, I don't know," said Cabot, cheerfully. "There's firewood enough in the schooner itself to last quite a while." "Burn the 'Sea Bee'!" cried White, aghast at the suggestion. "I couldn't do it." "Neither could I at present; but I expect both of us could and would, long before our blood reached the freezing point." "But if we destroyed the schooner, how would we get out of here next summer?" "I'm sure I don't know, and don't care to try and think yet a while. Just now I am much more interested in the nearby winter than in a very distant summer." The next day, and for a number of days thereafter, our lads worked at the establishment of their signal line. They erected stone cairns at such distances apart that every one was visible from those on either side, and on the summit of each they planted a flag with its accompanying pointer. In this way they ran an unbroken range of signals for ten miles, and would have carried it further had they dared expend any more of their precious firewood. While they were engaged upon this task the weather became noticeably colder, the mercury falling below the freezing point each night, and the whole country was wrapped in the first folds of the snow blanket under which it would sleep for months. About the time their signal line was completed, however, there came a milder day, so suggestive of the vanished summer that Cabot declared his intention of spending an hour or so at the lookout. "There might be such a thing as a belated vessel," he argued, "and I might have the luck to signal it. Anyhow, I am going to make one more try before agreeing to settle down here for the winter." As White was busy moving the galley stove into the cabin, and making other preparations for their coming struggle against Arctic cold, Cabot rowed himself ashore and left the dinghy on the beach. Then he climbed to the summit of the lofty headland, where, for a long time, he leaned thoughtfully on the rude Alpine-stock that had aided his steps, and gazed out over the vacant ocean. While Cabot thus watched for ships that failed to come, White was putting the finishing touches to his new cabin fixtures. He was just beginning to wonder if it were not time for his comrade's return when he felt the slight jar of some floating object striking against the side of the schooner. Thinking that Cabot had arrived, he shouted a cheery greeting, but turned to survey the general effect of what he had done before going on deck. The next minute some one softly entered the cabin and sprang upon the unsuspecting youth, overpowering him and flinging him to the floor before he had a chance to offer resistance. Here he was securely bound and left to make what he could of the situation, while his captors swarmed through the schooner with exclamations of delight at the richness of their prize. As White slowly recovered from the bewilderment of his situation he saw that his assailants were Indians, and even recognised in one of them the hideous features of the lad whom Cabot had named Arsenic. "What fools we have been," he thought, bitterly. "We might have known that he would come back with the first band of his friends that he ran across. And to make sure that they would find us we filled the country with sign posts all pointing this way. Seems to me that was about as idiotic a thing as we could have done, and if ever a misfortune was deserved this one is. I wonder what has become of Cabot, and if they have caught him yet. I only hope he won't try to fight 'em, for they'd just as soon kill him as not. Probably they'll kill us both, though, so that no witnesses can ever appear against them. Poor chap! It was a sad day for him when he attempted to help a fellow as unlucky as I am out of his troubles. Now I wonder what's up." A shrill cry of triumph had come from the shore, and the savages on the schooner's deck were replying to it with exultant yells. The cry from shore announced the capture of Cabot by two Indians who had been left behind for that express purpose. Of course the new-comers had known as soon as they discovered the dinghy that at least one of the schooner's defenders was on shore, and had made their arrangements accordingly. As we have seen, the naval contingent experienced no difficulty in capturing the schooner, and a little later the land forces carried out their part of the programme with equal facility. They merely hid themselves behind some boulders, and leaping out upon the young American, as he came unsuspectingly swinging down the trail, overpowered him before he could make a struggle. Tying him beyond a possibility of escape, they carried him down to the beach, where they uttered the cries that informed their comrades of their triumph. Until this time the schooner had been left at her anchorage, for fear lest any change in her position might arouse Cabot's suspicions. Now that they were free to do as they pleased with her the Indians cut her cable, and, after much awkward effort, succeeded in towing her to the beach, where they made her fast. As the darkness and cold of night were now upon them, and as they had no longer any use for the dinghy, they smashed it in pieces and started a fire with its shattered timbers. At the same time they broke out several barrels of provisions, and the entire band, gathering about the fire, began to feast upon their contents. In the meantime Cabot and White, in their respective places of captivity, were equally miserable through their ignorance of what had happened to each other, and of the fate awaiting them. Of course Cabot had seen the schooner brought to the beach, while White, still lying on her cabin floor, was able to guess at her position from such sounds as came to his ears. During that eventful afternoon, while the savages were still preparing the plan that had resulted in such complete success, a white man, setting a line of traps for fur-bearing animals, had run across the outermost of the signals established by our lads a few days earlier. Its fluttering pennon had attracted his attention while he was still at a distance, and, filled with curiosity, he had gone to it for a closer examination. On reaching the signal he read the pencilled writing on its arrow, and then stood irresolute, evidently much perturbed, for several minutes. Finally, heaving a great sigh, he set forth in the direction indicated by the arrow. He was a gigantic man, and presented a strange spectacle as he strode swiftly across the country with the long, sliding gait of a practised snowshoer. Although his wide-set blue eyes were frank and gentle in expression, a heavy mass of blonde hair, streaming over his shoulders like a mane, and a shaggy beard, gave him an air of lion-like ferocity. This wildness of aspect, as well as his huge proportions, were both increased by his garments, which were entirely of wolf skins. Even his cap was of this material, ornamented by a wolf's tail that streamed out behind and adorned in front with a pair of wolf ears pricked sharply forward. He carried a rifle and bore on his shoulders, as though it were a feather weight, a pack of such size than an ordinarily strong man would have found difficulty in lifting it. As this remarkable stranger, looking more like a Norse war god than a mere human being, reached one signal after another, he passed it without pausing for examination until he had gained a point about half way to the coast. Then he came to an abrupt halt and studied the surrounding snow intently. He had run across the trail made by Arsenic and his fellows a few hours earlier. After an examination of the sprawling footprints, the big man uttered a peculiar snort of satisfaction, and again pushed on with increased speed. An hour later he stood, concealed by darkness, on the verge of the cliffs enclosing Locked Harbour, gazing interestedly down on the fire-lit beach, the half-revealed schooner, the feasting savages, and the recumbent, dimly discerned figure of Cabot Grant, their prisoner. CHAPTER XX. COMING OF THE MAN-WOLF. Once Arsenic went to where Cabot was lying, and, grinning cheerfully, remarked: "Tea, shug. Plenty, yes." Then he laughed immoderately, as did several other Indians who were listening admiringly to this flight of eloquence in the white man's own tongue. "Oh, clear out, you grinning baboon," growled Cabot. "I only hope I'll live to get even with you for this day's work." The Indians were evidently so pleased at having drawn a retort from their prisoner that he declined to gratify them further, or to speak another word, though for some time Arsenic continued to beguile him with his tiresome "Tea, shug," etc. When the latter finally gave it up and started away to get his share of the feast, Cabot's gaze followed him closely. All this time our lad was filled with vague terrors concerning White, of whose fate he had not received the slightest intimation, as well as of what might be in store for himself. Would he be carried to the distant interior to become a slave in some filthy Indian village, or would he be killed before they took their departure? Perhaps they would simply leave him there to freeze and starve to death, or they might amuse themselves by burning him at the stake. Did these far northern Indians still do such things? He wondered, but could not remember ever to have heard. While considering these unpleasant possibilities, Cabot was also suffering with cold, from the pain of his bonds, and from lying motionless on the bed of rocks to which he had been carelessly flung. But, with all his pain and his mental distress, he still glared at the young savage who had so basely betrayed his kindness, and at length Arsenic seemed to be uneasily aware of the steady gaze. He changed his position several times, and his noisy hilarity was gradually succeeded by a sullen silence. Suddenly he lifted his head and listened apprehensively. His quick ear had caught an ominous note in the distant, long-drawn howl of a wolf. He spoke of it to his comrades, and several of them joined him in listening. It came again, a blood-curdling yell, now so distinct that all heard it. They stopped their feasting to consult in low tones and peer fearfully into the surrounding blackness. Cabot had also recognised the sound, but, uncanny as it was, he wondered why the howl of a wolf should disturb a lot of Indians who must know, even better than he, the cowardly nature of the beast, and that there was no chance of his coming near a fire. Even as these thoughts passed through his mind, the terrible cry was uttered again--this time so close at hand that it was taken up and repeated by a chorus of echoes from the nearby cliffs. The Indians sprang to their feet in terror, while at the same moment an avalanche of stones, gravel, and small boulders rushed down the face of the cliff close to where Cabot lay. From it was evolved a monstrous shape that, with unearthly howlings, leaped towards the frightened natives. As it did so flashes of lightning, that seemed to dart from it, gleamed with a dazzling radiance on their distorted faces. In another moment they were in full flight up the rugged pathway leading from the basin, hotly pursued by their mysterious enemy. The latter seemed to pass directly through the fire, scattering its blazing brands to all sides. At the same time he snatched up a flaming timber for use as a weapon against such of the panic-stricken savages as still remained within reach. The flashes of light that accompanied the apparition, while illuminating all nearby objects, had left it shrouded in darkness, and only when it crouched for an instant above the fire did Cabot gain a clear glimpse of the gigantic form. To his dismay it appeared to be a great beast with a human resemblance. It had the gleaming teeth, the horrid jaws, the sharp ears, in fact the face and head of a wolf, the tawny mane of a lion, and was covered with thick fur; but it stood erect and used its arms like a man. At the same time, the sounds issuing from its throat seemed a combination of incoherent human cries and wolfish howlings. Cabot only saw it for a moment, and then it was gone, leaping up the pathway, whirling the blazing timber above its head, and darting its mysterious lightning flashes after the flying Indians. As the clamour of flight and pursuit died away, to be followed by a profound silence, there came a muffled call: "Cabot. Cabot Grant." "Hello!" shouted our lad. "Who is it? Where are you?" "It is I, White," came the barely heard answer. "I am here in the cabin. Can't you come and let me out?" "No," replied Cabot. "I am tied hand and foot." "So am I. Are you wounded?" "No. Are you?" "No. What are the Indians doing?" "Running for dear life from a Labrador devil--half wolf and half man--armed with soundless thunder-bolts." During the short silence that followed, White meditated upon this extraordinary statement, and decided that his comrade's brain must be affected by his sufferings. "If I could only twist out of these ropes," he groaned, and then he began again a struggle to free his hands from their bonds. At the same time Cabot, who had long since discovered the futility of such effort, was anxiously listening, and wondering what would happen next. With all his listening he did not hear the soft approach of furred footsteps, and when a blinding light was flashed full in his face he was so startled that he cried out with terror. Instantly the light vanished, and he shuddered as he realised that the furry monster had returned, and, bending over him, was fumbling at his bonds. In another moment these were severed, he was picked up as though he had been an infant, and carried to the fire, whose scattered embers were speedily re-assembled. As it blazed up, Cabot gazed eagerly at the mysterious figure, which had thus far worked in silence. Curious as he was to see it, he yet dreaded to look upon its wolfish features. Therefore, as the fire blazed up, he uttered a cry of amazement, for, fully revealed by its light, was a man; clad in furs, it is true, but bare-headed and having a pleasant face lighted by kindly blue eyes. "You are really human after all!" gasped Cabot. The stranger smiled but said nothing. "And can understand English?" A nod of the head was the only answer. "Then," continued Cabot, hardly noting that his deliverer had not spoken, "won't you please go aboard the schooner and find my friend? He is in the cabin, where those wretches left him, tied up." This was the first intimation the stranger had received that any one besides Cabot needed his assistance, but without a word he did as requested, swinging himself aboard the "Sea Bee" by her head chains and her bowsprit, which overhung the beach. Directly afterwards a flash of light streamed from the cabin windows. Then White Baldwin, assisted by the fur-clad giant, emerged from his prison, walked stiffly along the deck, and was helped down to the beach, where Cabot eagerly awaited him. After a joyous greeting of his friend the young American said anxiously: "But are you sure you are all right, old man--not wounded nor hurt in any way?" "No; I am sound as a nut," replied White. "Only a little stiff, that's all." "Same here," declared Cabot, industriously rubbing his legs to restore their circulation. "I was rapidly turning into a human icicle, though, when our big friend dropped down from the sky in a chariot of flame and gave those Indian beggars such a scare that I don't suppose they've stopped running yet. But how did you happen to let 'em aboard, old man? Couldn't you stand them off with a gun?" For answer White gave a full account of all that had taken place, so far as he knew, and in return Cabot described his own exciting experiences, while the stranger listened attentively, but in silence, to both narratives. When Cabot came to the end of his own story, he said: "Now, sir, won't you please tell us how you happened to find us out and come to our rescue just in the nick of time? I should also very much like to know how you managed to tumble down that precipice unharmed, as well as how you produced those flashes of light that scared the savages so badly--me too, for that matter." For answer the stranger only smiled gravely, pointed to his lips, and shook his head. "Oh!" exclaimed both Cabot and White, shocked by this intimation, and the former said: "I beg your pardon, sir. While I noticed that you didn't do much talking, it never occurred to me that you were dumb. I am awfully sorry, and it must be a terrible trial. At the same time, I am glad you can hear me say how very grateful we are to you for getting us out of a nasty fix in the splendid way you did. Now, I move we adjourn to the cabin of the schooner, where we can make some hot tea and be rather more comfortable than out here. That is, if you think those Indians won't come back." The stranger smiled again, and shook his head so reassuringly that the lads had no longer a doubt as to the expediency of returning to the cabin. There they started a fire in the stove, boiled water, made tea, and prepared a meal, of which the stranger ate so heartily, and with such evident appreciation, that it was a pleasure to watch him. While supper was being made ready, the big man removed his outer garments of wolf fur and stood in a close-fitting suit of tanned buckskin that clearly revealed the symmetry of his massive proportions. "If I were as strong as you look, and, as I know from experience, you are," exclaimed Cabot, admiringly, "I don't think I would hesitate to attack a whole tribe of Indians single handed. My! but it must be fine to be so strong." After supper Cabot, who generally acted as spokesman, again addressed himself to their guest, saying: "If you don't mind, sir, we'd like to have you know just what sort of a predicament we've got into, and ask your advice as to how we can get out of it." With this preamble Cabot explained the whole situation, and ended by saying: "Now you know just how we are fixed, and if you can guide us to the nearest Mission Station or, if you haven't time to go with us, if you will give us directions how to find it--we shall be under a greater obligation to you than ever." For a minute the stranger looked thoughtful but made no sign. Then, dipping his finger in a bowl of water, he wrote on the table the single word: "To-morrow." Having thus dismissed the subject for the present, he stretched his huge frame on a transom and almost instantly fell asleep. Our tired lads were not long in following his example, and, though several times during the alight one or the other of them got up to replenish the fire, they always found their guest quietly sleeping. But when they both awoke late the following morning and looked for him he had disappeared. CHAPTER XXI. A WELCOME MISSIONARY. Although the outer garments of wolf fur belonging to the mysterious stranger were also missing, our lads were not at first at all uneasy concerning his absence, but imagined that their guest had merely gone for a breath of fresh air or to examine the situation of the schooner by daylight. So they mended the fire and got breakfast ready, expecting with each moment that he would return. As he did not, Cabot finally went on deck to look for him. The morning was bitterly cold, and the harbour was covered with ice sufficiently strong to bear a man. "The old 'Bee's' found her winter berth at last," reflected Cabot, as he glanced about him, shivering in the keen air. To his disappointment he could discover no trace of the man upon whom they were depending to aid their escape from this icy prison. Cabot even dropped to the beach and made his way to the crest of the inland bluffs, but could see no living thing on all the vast expanse of snow outspread before him. "I guess he has gone, all right," muttered the lad, "and we are again left to our own resources, only a little worse off than we were before. Why he came and helped us out at all, though, is a mystery to me." With this he retraced his steps and conveyed the unwelcome news to White. "It is evident then," said the latter, "that we must stay here, alive or dead, all winter. And I expect we'll be a great deal more dead than alive long before it is over." "Oh, I don't know," replied Cabot. "This doesn't seem to be such a very uninhabited place, after all. I'm sure we've had a regular job lot of visitors during the past week, and a good many of them, too. So I don't see why we shouldn't have other callers before the winter is over. When the next one comes, though, we'll take care and not let him out of our sight. Why didn't you tie a string to one of those Indians, as I advised?" "Because they tied me first," answered White, laughing in spite of his anxiety. "Why didn't you do it yourself?" "Because all the tying apparatus was aboard the schooner, and I hadn't so much as a shoe-string about me. I wish I could have tied that scoundrel Arsenic, though. If ever I meet him again I'll try to teach him a lesson in gratitude. But what do you propose to do to-day, skipper?" "I suppose we might as well unbend and stow our canvas, since the 'Bee' 'll not want to use sails again for a while. We might also send down topmasts, stow away what we can of the running rigging, get those provisions on the beach aboard again, and----" "Hold on!" cried Cabot, "you've already laid out all the work I care to tackle in one day, and if you want any more done you'll have to ship a new crew." It was well that the lads had ample occupation for that day, otherwise they would have been very unhappy. Even Cabot, for all his assumed cheerfulness, realised the many dangers with which they were beset. He believed that their unknown friend had deserted them, and that the Indians might return at any moment in over-powering numbers. He knew that without outside assistance and guidance it would be impossible to traverse the vast frozen wilderness lying between them and civilisation. He knew also that if he and White remained where they were they must surely perish before the winter was over. So the prospect was far from cheerful, and that evening the "Sea Bee's" crew, wearied with their hard day's work, ate their supper in thoughtful silence. While they were thus engaged both suddenly sprang to their feet with startled faces. A gun had been fired from close at hand, and with its report came a confusion of shouts. Evidently more visitors had arrived; but were they friends or foes? White thought the latter, and snatched up a loaded revolver, declaring that the Indians should not again get possession of his schooner without fighting for it; but Cabot believed the new-comers to be friends. "If they were enemies," he argued, "they would have got aboard and taken us by surprise before making a sound." So saying he hurried up the companionway, with White close at his heels. "Hello!" shouted Cabot. "Who are you?" "We are friends," answered a voice from the beach in English, but with a strong German accent. "Can you show us a light?" "Of course we can, and will in a moment," replied Cabot joyously. "White, get a----" But White had already darted back into the cabin for a lantern, with which he speedily emerged, and led the way to the beach. Here our lads found a dog sledge with its team, and an Eskimo driver, who was already collecting wood for a fire, together with a white man, tall, straight, middle-aged, and wearing a long beard streaked with grey. "God be with you and keep you," he said, as he shook hands with Cabot and White. "Where is the captain of this schooner?" Cabot pointed to his companion. "Where then is the crew?" At this both lads laughed, and Cabot replied: "I am the crew." "You don't mean to tell me that you two boys navigated that vessel to this place unaided." "We certainly did, sir, though we have not done much navigating for more than a month now. But will you please tell us who you are, where you came from, and how you happened to discover us? Though we are not surprised at being discovered, for we seem to be located on a highway of travel and have visitors nearly every day." "Indeed," replied the stranger; "and yet you are stranded in one of the least known and most inaccessible bays of the coast. It is rarely visited even by natives, and I doubt if any white man was ever here before your arrival." "Then how did you happen to come?" asked Cabot. "I came by special request to find you and offer whatever assistance I may render. I am the Rev. Ostrander Mellins, Director of a Moravian Mission Station located on the coast some twenty-five miles from this point." "But how did you know of us?" cried Cabot, in amazement. "We haven't sent any telegrams nor even written any letters since coming here." "Did not you send a messenger yesterday?" "No, sir. Most of yesterday we were prisoners in the hands of some rascally Indians." "I perceive," said the missionary, "that I have much to hear as well as to tell, and, being both tired and cold, would suggest that we seek a more sheltered spot than this, where we may converse while my man prepares supper." At these words both our lads were covered with confusion, and, with profuse apologies for their lack of hospitality, besought the missionary to accompany them into the schooner's cabin. "We should have asked you long ago," declared White, "only we were so overcome with joy at meeting a white man who could talk to us that we really didn't know what we were about." "Won't your man and dogs also come aboard?" asked Cabot, anxious to show how hospitable they really were. "No, thank you," laughed the missionary. "They will do very well where they are." In the cabin, which had never seemed more cheerful and comfortable, the lads helped the new-comer remove his fur garments, plied him with hot tea, together with everything they could think of in the way of eatables, and at the same time told him their story as they had told it to their other guest of the night before. "And you did not send me any message?" he asked, with a quizzical smile. "I know!" cried Cabot. "It was the man-wolf. But where did you meet him, and why didn't he come back with you? How did he manage to explain the situation? We thought he couldn't talk." "I don't know that he can," replied the missionary, "for I have never heard him speak, nor do I know any one who has. Neither did I meet him. In fact I have never seen him, but I think your messenger must be one and the same with your man-wolf, since he signed his note 'Homolupus.'" "His note," repeated Cabot curiously. "Did he send you a note?" "Not exactly; but he left one for me at a place near the station, where he has often left furs to be exchanged for goods, and called my attention to it by a signal of rifle shots. When I reached the place I was not surprised to find him gone, for he always disappears when it is certain that his signal has been understood. I was, however, greatly surprised to find, instead of the usual bundle of furs, only a slip of paper supported by a cleft stick. On it was written: "'Schooner laden with provisions stranded in pocket next South of Nukavik Arm. Crew in distress. Need immediate assistance. Homolupus.'" "With such a message to urge me, I made instant preparation, and came here with all speed." "It was awfully good of you," said White. "Perhaps not quite so good as you may think, since our annual supply ship having thus far failed to make her appearance, the mission is very short of provisions, and the intimation that there was an abundance within reach relieved me of a load of anxiety. So if you are disposed to sell----" "Excuse me for interrupting," broke in Cabot, "but, before you get to talking business, please tell us something more about the man who sent you to our relief. Who is he? Where does he live? What does he look like? Why does he disappear when you go in answer to his signals? Why do you call him a wolf-man? What----" "Seems to me that is about as many questions as I can remember at one time," said the missionary, smiling at Cabot's eagerness, "and I am sorry that, with my slight knowledge of the subject, I cannot answer them satisfactorily. The man-wolf was well known to this country before I came to it, which was three years ago, and dwells somewhere to the southward of this place, though no one, to my knowledge, has ever seen his habitation. Some of the Eskimo can point out its location, but they are in such terror of him that they give it a wide berth whenever travelling in that direction. As I said, I have never seen him, nor have I ever known of his holding communication other than by writing with any human being. The natives describe him as a man of great size with the head of a wolf." "There! I was sure it wasn't imagination," interrupted Cabot excitedly. "When I first saw him his head and face were those of a wolf, but the next time they were those of a man, and so I thought I must have dreamed the wolf part. I wonder how he manages it, and I wish I knew how he produces those lightning flashes. If this were a more civilised part of the world I should say that they resulted from electricity--but of course that couldn't be away off here in the wilderness. I asked him about them but got no answer." "Have you, then, seen and spoken with him?" asked the missionary. "Of course we have seen him, for he spent last night in this very cabin, and we have spoken to him, though not with him, for he is dumb." "I envy you the privilege of having met him, and am greatly relieved to learn that he is so wholly human; for the natives regard him as either a god or a devil, I can't tell which, and ascribe to him superhuman powers. He has righted many a wrong, punished many an evil-doer, saved many a poor soul from starvation, and performed innumerable deeds of kindness. He dares everything and seems able to do anything. He is at once the guardian angel and the terror of this region, and, on the whole, I doubt if there is in all the world to-day a more remarkable being than the man-wolf of Labrador." CHAPTER XXII. GOOD-BYE TO THE "SEA BEE." White Baldwin was of course interested in this talk of the man-wolf, but he was, at the same time, anxious to hear what the new-comer had to say concerning the cargo of provisions for which he had so long sought a purchaser. His heart beat high with the hope of a speedy return to his home and its loved ones; for he had already planned to leave the "Sea Bee" where she was until the following season. In case he could dispose of her cargo, he would insist that transportation and a guide--at least as far as Indian Harbour--should form part of the bargain. From Indian Harbour they would surely find some way of continuing the journey. He might even reach home by Christmas! Wouldn't it be great if he could, and if, at the same time, he could carry with him enough money to relieve all present anxieties? Perhaps he might even be able to take his mother and Cola to St. Johns for a long visit. Of course Cabot would accompany them, for with the warships all gone south for the winter there would be no danger of arrest, and then he would find out what a splendid city the capital of Newfoundland really was. Oh! if they could only start at once; but of course there were certain preliminaries to be settled first, and the sooner they got at them the better. Thus thinking, White took advantage of a pause in the conversation to remark: "What a very fortunate thing it is that you who want to purchase provisions and we who have them for sale should come together in this remarkable fashion." "It is so fortunate and so remarkable that I must regard it as a distinct leading of the Divine Providence that knows our every need and guides our halting footsteps," replied the missionary. "And do you think," continued the young trader anxiously, "that you want our entire cargo?" "I am sure of it; and even then we may be put on short rations before the winter is ended, for there are many to be fed." With this opening the conversation drifted so easily into business details that, before the occupants of the cabin turned in for the night, everything had been arranged. White had been somewhat disappointed when the missionary said that, having no funds in St. Johns, he would be obliged to give a sight draft on New York in payment for the goods. This slight annoyance was, however, speedily smoothed away by Cabot, who offered to cash the draft immediately upon their arrival in St. Johns, where, he said, he had ample funds for the purpose. It was also agreed that our lads should be provided with fur clothing, snowshoes, a dog sledge, and a guide as far as Indian Harbour. In addition to taking the cargo of the "Sea Bee," the missionary proposed to purchase the schooner itself, at a sum much less than her real value, but one that constituted a very fair offer under the circumstances. White hesitated over this proposition, but finally accepted it upon condition that at any time during the following summer he should be allowed to buy the schooner back at the same price he now received for her. "Isn't it fine," he whispered to Cabot, after all hands had sought their bunks, "to think that our venture has turned out so splendidly after all?" "Fine is no name for it," rejoined the other. "But I do hope we will have the chance of meeting Mr. Homolupus once more and of thanking him for what he has done. We owe so much to him that, man-wolf or no man-wolf, I consider him a splendid fellow." In spite of their impatience to start southwards, our lads were still compelled to spend two weeks longer at Locked Harbour. First the missionary was obliged to make a visit to his station, and, on his return, the snow was not in condition for a long sledge journey. Furious winds had piled it into drifts, with intervening spaces of bare ground, over which sledge travel would be impossible. So they must wait until the autumnal storms were over and winter had settled down in earnest. But, impatient as they were, time no longer hung heavily on their hands, nor did they now regard their place of abode as a prison. Its solitude and dreariness had fled before the advent of half a hundred Eskimo--short, squarely built men, moon-faced women, and roly-poly children, looking like animated balls of fur, all of whom had been brought from the mission to form a settlement on the beach. It was easier to bring them to the Heaven-sent provisions that were to keep them until spring than it would have been to transport the heavy barrels of flour and pork to the mission. At the same time, they could protect the schooner from depredations by other wandering natives. So they came, bag and baggage, babies, dogs, and all, and at once set to work constructing snug habitations, in which, with plenty of food and plenty of seal oil, they could live happily and comfortably during the long winter months. These structures were neither large nor elegant. In fact they were only hovels sunk half underground, with low stone walls, supporting roofs of whale ribs, covered thick with earth. A little later they would be buried beneath warm, shapeless mounds of snow. To most of them outside light and air could only be admitted through the low doorways, but one, more pretentious than the others, was provided with an old window sash, in which the place of missing panes was filled by dried intestines tightly stretched. In every hovel a stone lamp filled with seal oil burned night and day, furnishing light, warmth, and the heat for melting ice into drinking water, boiling tea, drying wet mittens, and doing the family cooking. Cabot and White were immensely interested in watching the construction of these primitive Labrador homes. They were also amazed at the readiness with which the natives made themselves snugly safe and comfortable, in a place where they had despaired of keeping alive. Besides watching the Eskimo prepare for the winter and picking up many words of their language, Cabot took daily lessons in snowshoeing and the management of dog teams, in both of which arts White was already an adept. According to contract, both lads had been provided with complete outfits for Arctic travel, including fur clothing, boots, and sleeping bags. A sledge with a fine team of dogs had also been placed at their disposal, and an intelligent young Eskimo, who could speak some English, was ready to guide them on their southward journey. He was introduced to his future travelling companions as Ildlat-Netschillik, whereupon Cabot remarked: "That is an elegant name for special occasions, such as might occur once or twice in a lifetime, but seems to me something less ornamental, like 'Jim,' for instance, would be better for everyday use. I wonder if he would mind being called Jim?" On being asked this question the young Eskimo, grinning broadly, said: "A' yite. Yim plenty goot," and afterwards he always answered promptly and cheerfully to the name of "Yim." [Illustration: "Yim."] At length snow fell for several days almost without intermission. Then a fierce wind took it in hand, kneading it, packing it, and stuffing it into every crack and cranny of the landscape until hollows were filled, ridges were nicely rounded, and rocks had disappeared. In the meantime, strong white bridges had been thrown across lake and stream, and the great Labrador highway for winter travel was formally opened to the public. November was well advanced, and our lads had been prisoners in Locked Harbour for more than two months when this way of escape was opened to them. It had been decided that they should take a single large sledge, having broad runners, and a double team of dogs--ten in all. On this, therefore, was finally lashed a great load of provisions, frozen walrus meat for dog food, sleeping bags, the three all-important cooking utensils of the wilderness--kettle, fry-pan, and teapot--an axe, and Cabot's bag of specimens. With this outfit Yim was to conduct them over the first half of their 400-mile journey, or to Indian Harbour, where, through a letter from the missionary, they expected to procure a fresh team, renew their supply of provisions, and obtain another guide, who should go with them to Battle Harbour. When the time for starting arrived, the entire population of the new settlement turned out to see them off and help get their heavily laden sledge up the steep ascent from the beach. At the crest of the bluffs the men fired a parting salute from their smooth-bore guns, the women and children uttered shrill cries of farewell, and the missionary gave them his final blessing, Yim cracked his eighteen-foot whiplash like a pistol shot, shouted to his dogs, and the yelping team sprang forward. Our lads gave a fond backward glance at their loved schooner, so far below them that she looked like a toy boat, and then, with hearts too full for words, they faced the vast white wilderness outspread like a frozen sea before them. All that day they pushed steadily forward almost without a pause, holding a westerly course to pass around a deep fiord that penetrated far inland, and might not yet be crossed with safety. Yim ran beside his straining dogs, encouraging the laggards with whip and voice; White led the way and broke the trail, while Cabot brought up the rear and helped the sledge over difficult places. For several hours they followed the signal line with its fluttering flags, and felt that they were still on familiar ground. At length even these were left behind, and for three hours longer they plodded sturdily forward, guided only by Yim's unerring instinct. Then the short day came to an end and night descended with a chill breath of bitter winds. Cabot was nearly exhausted, and even White was painfully weary, but both had been buoyed up by a hope that they might reach timber and have abundant firewood for their first camp. Now, when Yim, throwing down his whip and giving his dogs the command to halt, calmly announced that they would make camp where they were, both lads looked at him in dismay. "We surely can't camp here in the snow without a fire or any kind of shelter!" exclaimed Cabot. "Why, man, we'll be frozen stiff long before morning." "A' yite. Me fix um. You see," responded Yim, cheerfully. CHAPTER XXIII. THE COMFORT OF AN ESKIMO LAMP. In that dreary waste of snow, unrelieved so far as the eye could reach by so much as a single bush, the making of a camp that should contain even the rudiments of comfort seemed as hopeless to White, who had always been accustomed to a timbered country, as it did to Cabot, who knew nothing of real camp life, and had only played at camping in the Adirondacks. Left to their own devices, they would have passed a most uncomfortable if not a perilous night, for the mercury stood at many degrees below zero. But they had Yim with them, and he, being perfectly at home amid all that desolation, was determined to enjoy all the home comforts it could be made to yield. First he marked out a circular space some twelve feet in diameter, from which he bade his companions excavate the snow with their snowshoes, and throw it out on the windward side. While they were doing this he went a short distance away, and, from a mass of closely compacted snow, carved out with his knife a number of blocks, as large as could be handled without breaking, to each of which he gave a slight curve. With time enough Yim could have constructed from such slabs a perfect igloo or snow hut, but the fading daylight was very precious, and he did not consider that the cold was yet sufficiently severe to demand a complete enclosure. So he merely built a low, hood-like structure on the windward side of the space the others had cleared. One side of this was still further extended by the sledge, relieved of its load and set on edge. The precious provisions were placed inside the rude shelter, the sleeping bags covered its floor, and, when all was completed, Yim surveyed his work with great satisfaction. "It is pretty good so far as it goes," admitted. White, dubiously, "but I don't see how we are to get along without at least enough fire to boil a pot of tea, and of course we can't have a fire without wood." "That's so," agreed Cabot, shivering. Yim only smiled knowingly as he groped among the miscellaneous articles piled at the back of the hut. From them he finally drew forth a shallow soapstone bowl having one straight side about six inches long. It was shaped something like a clam shell, and was a specimen of the world-famed Eskimo cooking lamp. He also produced a bladder full of seal oil. "Good enough!" cried Cabot. "Yim has remembered to bring along his travelling cook stove." Setting the lamp in the most sheltered corner of the hut, Yim filled it with oil, and then, drawing forth a pouch that hung from his neck, he produced a wick made of sphagnum moss previously dried, rolled, and oiled. This he laid carefully along the straight side of the lamp. Then, turning to Cabot, he uttered the single word: "Metches." "Great Scott!" exclaimed the young engineer, "I forgot to bring any. But of course you must have some, White." "No, I haven't. Matches were among the things you were to look after, and so I never gave them a thought." The spirits of the lads, raised to a high pitch of expectation by the sight of Yim's lamp, suddenly sank to zero with the discovery that they had no means for lighting it. Yim, however, only smiled at their dismay. Of course he had long since learned the use of matches, and to appreciate them at their full value; but he also knew how to produce fire without their aid in the simplest manner ever devised by primitive man. It is the friction method of rubbing wood against wood, and, in one form or another, is used all over the world. It was known to the most ancient Egyptians, and is practised to-day by natives of the Amazon valley, dwellers on South Pacific islands, inhabitants of Polar regions, Indians of North America, and the negroes of Central Africa. These widely scattered peoples use various models of wooden drills, ploughs, or saws. But Yim's method is the simplest of all. When he saw that no matches were forthcoming, he said: "A' yite. Me fix um." At the same time he produced two pieces of soft wood from some hiding place in his garments. One of these, known as the "spindle," was a stick about two feet long by three-quarters of an inch in diameter and having a rounded point. The other, called the "hearth," was flat, about eighteen inches in length, half an inch thick, and three inches wide. On its upper surface, close to one edge, were several slight cavities, each just large enough to hold the rounded end of the spindle, and from each was cut a narrow slot down the side of the hearth. This slot is an indispensable feature, and without it all efforts to produce fire by wood-friction must fail. Laying the hearth on the flat side of a sledge runner and kneeling on it to hold it firmly in position, Yim set the rounded end of his spindle in one of its depressions, and holding the upper end between the palms of his hands, began to twirl it rapidly, at the same time exerting all possible downward pressure. As his hands moved towards the lower end of the spindle he dexterously shifted them back to the top, without lifting it or allowing air to get under its lower end. With the continuation of the twirling process a tiny stream of wood meal, ground off by friction, poured through the slot at the side of the hearth, and accumulated in a little pile, that all at once began to smoke. In two seconds more it was a glowing coal of fire. Then Yim dropped his spindle, covered the coal with a bit of tinder previously made ready, and blew it into a flame, which he deftly transferred to the wick of his lamp. At sight of the first spiral of smoke our lads had been filled with amazement. As the coal began to glow they uttered exclamations of delight, and when the actual flame appeared they broke into such enthusiastic cheering as set all the dogs to barking in sympathy. "It is one of the most wonderful things I ever saw," cried Cabot. "I've often read of fire being produced by wood friction, and I have tried it lots of times myself, but as I never could raise even a smoke, and never before met any one who could, I decided that it was all a fake got up by story writers." "I was rather doubtful about it myself," admitted White. "But, I say! Isn't that a great lamp, and doesn't it make things look cheery?" White's approval of "Yim's cook stove," as Cabot called it, was well merited, for its five inches of blazing wick yielded as much light and twice the heat of a first-class kerosene lamp. Over it Yim had already suspended a kettle full of snow, and now he laid a slab of frozen pork close beside it to be thawed out. While waiting for these he fed the dogs, who had been watching him with wistful eyes and impatient yelpings. To each he threw a two-pound chunk of frozen walrus meat, and each devoured his portion with such ravenous rapidity that Cabot declared they swallowed them whole. Half an hour after the lamp was lighted it had converted enough snow into boiling water to provide three steaming cups of tea, and while our lads sipped at these Yim cut slices of thawed pork, laid them in the fry-pan, and holding this over his lamp soon had them sizzling and browning in the most appetising manner. This, with tea and ship biscuit, constituted their supper. When Yim no longer needed his lamp for cooking he removed two-thirds of its wick and allowed the flame thus reduced to burn all night. Over it hung a kettle of melting snow, and above this, on a snowshoe, supported by two others, wet mittens and moccasins were slowly but thoroughly dried. In spite of the hot tea, their fur-lined sleeping bags, and the effective wind-break behind which they were huddled, our lads suffered with cold long before the night was over, and were quite willing to make a start when Yim, after a glance at the stars, announced that daylight was only three hours away. For breakfast they had more scalding tea and a quantity of hard bread, broken into small bits, soaked in warm water, fried in seal oil, and eaten with sugar. White pronounced this fine, but Cabot only ate it under protest, because, as he said, he must fill up with something. The travel of that day, with its accompaniments of blisters and strained muscles, was much harder than that of the day before, and our weary lads were thankful when, towards its close, they entered a belt of timber that had been in sight for hours. That night they slept warmly and soundly on luxurious beds of spruce boughs beside a great fire frequently replenished by Yim. "I tell you what," said Cabot, as, early in the evening, he basked in the heat of this blaze, "there's nothing in all this world so good as that. For my part I consider fire to be the greatest blessing ever conferred upon mankind." "How about light, air, water, food, and sleep?" asked White. "Those are necessaries, but fire is a luxury. Not only that, but it is the first of all luxuries and the one upon which nearly all others depend." When, a little later, Cabot lay so close to the blaze that his sleeping bag caught on fire, and he burned his hands in putting it out, White laughingly asked: "What do you think of your luxury now?" "I think," was the reply, "that it proves itself the greatest of luxuries by punishing over-indulgence in it with the greatest amount of pain." "Umph!" remarked Yim, who was listening, "Big fire, goot. Baby fire, more goot. Innuit yamp mos' goot of any." "Oh, pshaw!" retorted Cabot, "your sooty little lamp isn't in it with a blaze like that." On the third day of their journey the party had skirted the edge of the timber for several hours, when all at once Yim held his head high with dilated nostrils. At the same time it was noticed that the dogs were also sniffing eagerly. "What is it, Yim?" "Fire. Injin fire," was the reply. "I'd like to know how you can tell an Indian fire from any other," said Cabot. "Especially when it is so far away that I can't smell anything but cold air." But Yim was right, for, after a while, his companions also smelled smoke, and a little later the yelping of their dogs was answered by shrill cries from within the timber. Suddenly two tattered scarecrows of children emerged from the thick growth, stared for an instant, and then, with terrified expressions, darted back like frightened rabbits. "The Arsenic kids!" cried Cabot, who had recognised them. "Now I'll catch that scoundrel." As he spoke he sprang after the children, and was instantly lost to view in the low timber. "Hold on!" shouted White. "You'll run into an ambush." But Cabot, crashing through the undergrowth, failed to hear the warning, and with the loyalty of true friendship White started after him. A minute later he overtook his impulsive comrade standing still and gazing irresolute at a canvas tent, black with age and smoke, and patched in many places. It stood on the edge of a small lake, and showed no sign of occupancy save a slender curl of smoke that drifted from a vent hole in its apex. "Get behind cover," cried White. "They may take a pot shot at any moment." "I don't believe it," replied Cabot. "Any way, I'm bound to see what's inside." Thus saying he stepped forward and lifted the dingy flap. CHAPTER XXIV. OBJECTS OF CHARITY. While Cabot felt very bitter against the young Indian whom he had named "Arsenic," on account of the base ingratitude with which the latter had repaid the kindness shown him, and was determined to punish him for it in some way, he had not the slightest idea what form the punishment would take. Of course he did not intend to kill Arsenic, nor even to severely injure him, but he had thought of giving the rascal a sound thrashing, and only hoped he could make him understand what it was for. In the excitement of the past two weeks he had forgotten all about Arsenic, but the sight of those ragged children had awakened his animosity, and he had followed them, hoping that they would lead him to the object of his just wrath. It was only when he reached the sorry-looking tent that he remembered the other savages whom Arsenic had brought with him on his second visit to the schooner, and wondered if some of them might not be concealed behind the canvas screen ready to spring upon him. With this thought he stepped nimbly to one side as he threw open the flap, and stood for a moment waiting for what might happen. There was no rush of men and no sound, save only a faint cry of terror, hearing which Cabot peered cautiously around the edge of the opening. A poor little fire of sticks smouldered on the ground in the middle, filling the place with a pungent smoke. Through this Cabot could at first make out only a confused huddle at one side, from which several pairs of eyes glared at him like those of wild beasts. As he entered the tent a human figure detached itself from this and strove to rise, but fell back weakly helpless. In another moment a closer view disclosed to Cabot the whole dreadful situation. The huddle resolved itself into a woman, hollow-cheeked and gaunt with sickness and hunger, two children in slightly better plight, and a little dead baby. There was no other person in the tent, and it contained no furnishing except the heap of boughs, rags, and scraps of fur that passed for a bed, and a broken kettle that lay beside the fire. On the floor were scattered a few bones picked clean, from which even the marrow had been extracted; but otherwise there was no vestige of food. "I believe they are starving to death!" cried Cabot, as he made these discoveries. "It certainly looks like it," replied White, who had followed his friend into the tent. "I wonder what they did with all the provisions they stole from us." "Probably they were taken from them in turn to feed those other Indians. At any rate, they are destitute enough now, and we can't leave them here to die. Go and bring Yim with the sled as quick as you can, while I wake up this fire." "All right," replied White, "only I'm afraid he won't come." "He must come," said Cabot decisively. The hatred between Eskimo and Indian is so bitter that it took all White's powers of persuasion, together with certain threats, to bring Yim to the tent, but once there even he was sufficiently roused by its spectacle of suffering to bestir himself most actively. During the next hour, while the starving, half-frozen Indians were warmed and fed, the rescuers discussed the situation and what should be done. They could not leave the helpless family as they had found them, neither could they carry them away, and it would be folly to remain with them longer than was absolutely necessary. They could not gain a word of information from the woman or children as to how they had arrived at such a pitiable plight, what they had done with the stolen provisions, why their friends had abandoned them, or what had become of Arsenic. "I'll tell you what," said Cabot at length; "we'll provide them with a supply of wood and leave all the provisions we can possibly spare. Then we will hurry on to Indian Harbour, send back some more provisions from there by Yim, and get him to report the case to Mr. Mellins." As there seemed nothing better to be done, this plan was carried out, though dividing the provisions made each portion look woefully small, and by noon the sledge was again on its way southward. The head of the fiord having been reached, the trail now left the sheltering timber and struck across an open country, which was also extremely rugged, abounding in hills and hollows. Over these the sledge pulled heavily, in spite of its lightened load, because one of the ice shoes, with which its runners were shod, had broken and could not be repaired until camp was made. When they had gone about three miles, and while our lads were still talking of the suffering they had so recently witnessed, they were attracted by an exclamation from Yim, who was pointing eagerly ahead. Looking in that direction, they saw a line of dark objects, that had just topped a distant ridge, running swiftly towards them. "Caribou!" shouted White, in great excitement, at the same time seizing his rifle from the sledge and hastily removing it from its sealskin case. In another minute sledge and dogs were concealed in a bit of a gully, with Cabot to watch them, while Yim and White, lying flat behind the crest of a low ridge, were eagerly noting the course of the approaching animals. When it became evident that they would pass at some distance on the right, White, crouching low, ran in that direction. The caribou appeared badly frightened, pausing every few moments to face about and cast terrified glances over the way they had come. All at once, during one of these pauses, a shot rang out, followed quickly by another, and, as the terrified animals dashed madly away in a new direction, one of their number dropped behind, staggered, and fell. "I've got him! I've got him!" yelled White, wild with the joy of his achievement. "Hurrah for us!" shouted Cabot. "Steaks and spare-ribs for supper to-night." "Yip, yip, yip!" screamed Yim to his dogs, and with a jubilant chorus of yells and yelpings, the entire outfit streamed over the ridge to the place where the unfortunate caribou lay motionless. In his broken English Yim gave the lads to understand that it would be advisable to camp where they were, in order to prepare their meat for transportation, and also to mend their broken sledge shoe. This latter, he explained, could be done much better with a mixture of blood and snow than with any other available material. He furthermore intimated that he feared they might be overtaken by a blizzard before morning, in which case they could best defy it in a regularly built igloo. All these reasons for delay seemed so good that the others accepted them, and the work outlined by Yim was immediately begun. In cutting up the caribou, as in building the snow hut, Cabot, from lack of experience, could give but slight assistance, and, realising this, he made a proposal. "Look here," he said. "The wood we have brought along won't last long and I want a good fire to-night. I also want to carry some of this meat to those poor wretches we have just left. We have got more than we can take with us, anyhow. So I am going back with a leg of venison, and on my return I'll bring all the wood I can pack." "But you might lose the way," objected White. "No one could lose so plain a trail as the one we have just made," replied Cabot, scornfully. "Suppose it should be dark before you got back?" "There will be three hours of daylight yet, and I won't be gone more than two at the most. Anyhow, I must get some of this meat to those starving children." White's protests were ineffectual before Cabot's strong resolve, and, as soon as a forequarter of the caribou could be made ready, the latter get forth on his errand of mercy. Although he had no difficulty in finding the trail, it was so much harder to walk with a heavy load than it had been without one that a full hour had passed before he again came within sight of the lonely tent in the forest. One of the children who was outside spied him and announced his coming, so that when he entered the tent he again found a frightened group huddled together and apprehensively awaiting him. But they were stronger now, and the children uttered little squeals of joy at sight of the meat he had brought, while even the haggard face of their mother was lighted by a fleeting smile. For the pleasure of seeing the children eat Cabot toasted a few strips of venison over the coals, and these smelled so good that he cut off some more for himself. In this occupation he spent another hour without realising the flight of time, and had eaten a quantity of meat that he would have deemed impossible had it all been placed before him at once. As he was bending over the fire toasting a strip that he said to himself should be the last, a slight cry from one of the children caused him to look up. He barely caught a glimpse of a face at the entrance as it was hastily withdrawn, but in that moment he recognised the features of Arsenic. At sight of the ill-favoured young Indian all of Cabot's former resentment flamed up, and springing to his feet he dashed from the tent, determined to give Arsenic the thrashing he deserved. Of course Cabot had removed his snowshoes, but, as the young Indian had done the same thing, both were compelled to readjust these all-important articles, without which they would have floundered helplessly in the deep snow. Arsenic was off first, and though Cabot chased him hotly he could not overcome the advantage thus gained. Being also much less expert in the management of snowshoes, he tripped several times, and finally pitched headlong. When he next regained his feet Arsenic had disappeared in the timber, and our lad realised the futility of a further pursuit. Now, too, he noticed that the sky had become heavily overcast, and that a strong wind was soughing ominously through the tree tops. "It must be later than I thought," he reflected, "and high time for me to be getting back to camp." With this he hastily gathered a bundle of sticks to be used as firewood and started, as he supposed, towards the open; but so confused was he, and so many turns did he make, that more than half an hour was wasted before he finally emerged from the timber. Here he was dismayed to find that snow was falling, or rather being driven in straight lines by the wind, which had increased to the force of a gale. "I've got to hump myself to reach camp before dark, but I'll make it all right," he remarked to himself, as he set forth across the white plain. He took a diagonal course that he hoped would lead him to the trail, but by the time all landmarks were obliterated by the descending night he had failed to find it. In looking back he could not even distinguish the timber line from which he had come. Then the awful conviction slowly forced itself upon him that he was lost in a trackless wilderness, swept by the first fury of an Arctic blizzard. CHAPTER XXV. LOST IN A BLIZZARD. So numbed was our poor lad by the shock of his discovery that, for a few moments, he stood motionless. Of course it would be of no use to continue his hopeless struggle. Even if he had come in the right direction he must ere this have passed the place where his companions were encamped. If he could only regain the timber there might be a slight chance of surviving the night; but even its location was lost to him, and a certain death stared him in the face. At any rate it would be a painless ending, for he had only to lie down to be quickly covered by a soft blanket of snow. Then he could go to sleep never again to waken. He was very weary, and already so drowsy that the thought of sleep was pleasant to him. Such a death would certainly not be so terrible as drowning after a hopeless struggle with black waters. With this thought every incident of that awful night after the loss of the "Lavinia" flashed into his mind. How utterly hopeless had seemed his situation then and how desperately he had fought for his life. But he had fought, and had won the fight. What was the use of learning a lesson of that kind if he could not profit by it? Was not his life as well worth fighting for now as then? Of course it was; nor was his present position any more hopeless than that one had been. Then he had drifted with the wind, and now he would do the same thing. If he could hold out long enough he would fetch up somewhere sometime. It was merely a question of endurance. Even in that howling wilderness, with death on all sides, there were still three chances for life. The drift with the wind might take him to the igloo that Yim must have built ere this. How bright, and warm, and cosey its lamplighted interior would be. How glad they would be to see him, and how he would laugh at all his recent fears. But of course there was not one chance in a million of his finding the igloo. It was not at all unlikely, though, that the drift might take him to a belt of timber, into which the bitter wind could not penetrate; and where he could crawl under the thick, low-hanging branches of some tent-like spruce. Even such a shelter now seemed very desirable, and would be accepted with thankfulness. If he failed to reach timber, the wind might blow him to some region of cliffs and rocks that would shelter him from its cutting blasts. If he missed all these chances, and if worse came to worst, he could always go to sleep beneath the snow blanket, and it would be better to do that with the consciousness of having made a good fight than to yield now like a coward. All these thoughts flashed through Cabot's mind within the space of a minute, and, having determined to fight until the battle was either won or lost, he flung away his now useless burden of firewood and started off down the wind. Tramping through that newly fallen snow, even with the support of racquets, was exhausting work, but the effort at least kept him warm, and, before he came to the end of his strength, some hours later, he had covered a number of miles. He had also come to the least promising of the three places he had hoped for, and found himself in a region of cliffs, precipices, and huge rocks, among which he could no longer make headway, even though he had not reached the limit of endurance. But he had reached that limit, and now only sought a spot in which he might lie down and go to sleep. Of course the snow would quickly cover him, and doubtless he would be buried deep ere the fury of the storm was past. But he had a vague plan for putting his snowshoes over his head like an inverted V, and hoped in that way to be kept from smothering. At the same time he had little thought that he should ever see the light of another day. "Only a bit further and then I can rest," he muttered, as he pushed into the blackness of a rift between two tall cliffs, and experienced a partial relief from the furious wind. It seemed as though he ought to penetrate this as far as possible, and so he struggled weakly forward. Then he stumbled over something that lay across his path and fell heavily. As he lay wondering whether an attempt to regain his feet would be worth while, he seemed to hear the distant but strenuous ringing of an electric bell, and almost smiled at the absurdity of such a fancy in such a place. The thought carried him back to the electrical laboratory of the Institute, and he began to dream that he was still a student of ohms, volts, and amperes. In another moment his consciousness would have been wholly merged in dreams, but suddenly the place where he lay was filled with a blaze of light that apparently streamed from the solid rock on either side. So intense was this light that it penetrated even Cabot's closed eyes, and aroused him from the stupor into which he had fallen. He lifted his head, and, still bewildered, wondered why the laboratory was so brilliantly illuminated. Then, through the glare, he saw the driving snow-flakes with their dancing shadows magnified a hundred fold, and, all at once, he remembered. Staggering to his feet, and groping with outstretched arms, he pushed forward along the narrow pathway outlined by the mysterious light. He no longer heard the sound of bells, but in its place came strains of music that blended weirdly with the shrieking wind, and irresistibly compelled him forward. The pathway sloped downward and then took a sharp turn. As Cabot passed this the light behind him was extinguished as suddenly as it had appeared, the wild music sounded louder than ever, and directly in front of him gleamed two squares of light like windows. Between them was a dark space, towards which he instinctively stumbled. It proved to be as he had hoped, a door massive and without any means of unclosing that his blind fumblings could discover. So he beat against it feebly and uttered a hoarse cry for help. In another moment it was opened, and Cabot, leaning heavily against it, fell into a room, small, warm, and brightly lighted. For a few minutes he lay with closed eyes, barely conscious that his struggle for life had been successful, and that in some mysterious manner he had gained a place of safety. Gradually he became aware that some one was bending over him, and opening his eyes he gazed full into a face that he instantly recognised, though it had sadly changed since he last saw it. At that time it had expressed strength in every line, but now it was haggard and worn by suffering. "The Man-wolf!" gasped Cabot, in a voice hardly above a whisper. A slight smile flitted across the man's face, and then, without warning, he sank to the floor in a dead faint. His mighty strength had been turned to the weakness of water, and the iron will had at length relaxed its hold upon the enfeebled body. As the man-wolf fell, a stream of blood trickled from his mouth, and he choked for breath as though strangling. There is nothing so effective in restoring spent strength as a demand upon it from one who is weaker, and at sight of the big man's helplessness Cabot was instantly nerved to renewed effort. He sat up, cut loose his snowshoes, closed the open door, and rid himself of his snow-laden outer garments. Then, by a supreme effort, he managed to drag the unconscious man to a bed that was piled with robes and lean him against it. His eyes had already lighted on a jug of water, and fetching this he bathed the sufferer's face, washed the blood from his mouth, and finally had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes unclose. Then he helped him on to the bed, and though during the operation the man's face expressed the most intense pain, he uttered no sound. But the movement was accompanied by another hemorrhage, so severe that it seemed to our distressed lad as though the man must surely bleed to death before it was checked. When it finally ceased the exhausted sufferer dropped asleep, and, for the first time since entering that place of mysteries, Cabot found an opportunity for looking about him. Although the room was small it was comfortably furnished with a table, chairs--one of which was a rocker--a lounge, and the bed on which the man-wolf lay. There were no windows nor doors except those in front. The ceiling was of heavy canvas tightly stretched, while the walls were hung with the skins of fur-bearing animals, and the floor was covered with rugs of the same material. At first Cabot paid no attention to these details, for his eyes were fixed upon the most astonishing thing he had seen in all Labrador. It was a lamp that, depending from the ceiling, gave to the room an illumination as brilliant as daylight. "Electric, as I live!" gasped the young engineer. "A regular incandescent, and those lights out on the trail must have been the same. That was an electric bell too. I know it now, though I couldn't believe my ears at the time. The light he scared the Indians with must have been an electric flash, worked by a storage battery. But it is all so incredible! I wonder if I am really awake or still dreaming?" To assure himself on this point Cabot went to the light, and, as he did so, came upon another surprise greater than any that had preceded it. He had wondered at the comfortable temperature of the room, for there was nowhere a fire to be seen, and the blizzard still howled outside with unabated fury. Now, on drawing near to the lamp, he found himself also approaching some heretofore unobserved source of heat, which he discovered to be a drum of sheet iron. It stood by itself, unconnected with any chimney, and apparently had no receptacle for any form of fuel, solid, liquid, or gaseous. "A Balfour electric heater," murmured Cabot, in an awe-stricken tone, "and I didn't even know they had been perfected. I don't suppose there are half-a-dozen in use in all the world, and yet here is one of them doing its full duty up here in the Labrador wilderness, a thousand miles from anywhere. It is fully equal to any tale of the Arabian Nights, and Mr. Homolupus must, as the natives say, be either a god or a devil. I do wonder who he is, where he came from, what has happened to him, where he gets his electricity, and a thousand other things. I wish he would wake up, and I wish he could talk." Cabot's curiosity concerning the weird music that had drawn him to that place had been partially satisfied by the discovery of a violin on the floor beside the sick man's bed. Now, as he flung himself wearily down on the lounge for a bit of rest, he became conscious of the muffled b-r-r-r of a dynamo. That accounted in a measure for the electric lights, but still left our lad in a daze of wonder at the nature of his surroundings. CHAPTER XXVI. AN ELECTRICIAN IN THE WILDERNESS. When Cabot threw himself down on that lounge he fully intended to remain awake, or at most to take only a series of short naps, always holding himself in readiness to assist the sufferer on the opposite side of the room. But exhausted nature proved too much for his good intentions, and he had hardly lain down before he fell into a dead, dreamless sleep that lasted for many hours. When he next awoke it was with a start, and he sat up bewildered by the strangeness of his environment. Daylight was streaming in at the frost-covered windows and the storm of the night before had evidently spent its fury. Almost the first thing he saw was the tall form of his host bending feebly over the electric stove. His face was drawn with pain, and he was so weak that he was compelled to support himself by grasping the table with one hand while with the other he stirred the contents of a simmering kettle. "Let me do that, sir!" cried Cabot, springing to his feet. "You are not fit to be out of your bed, and I am perfectly familiar with the management of electrical cooking apparatus, though I don't know much about cooking itself." The man hesitated a moment, and then permitted the other to lead him back to his bed, on which he sank with a groan. Here Cabot made him as comfortable as possible before turning his attention to the stove. On it he found two kettles, each having its own wire connections, in one of which was boiling water while the other contained a meat stew. On the table was a box of tea, a bowl of sugar, and a plate heaped with hard bread. Finding other dishes in a cupboard, Cabot made a pot of tea, turned off the electric current, and served breakfast. Before eating a mouthful himself he prepared a bowl of broth for his patient, which the latter managed to swallow after many attempts and painful effort. Cabot ate ravenously, and, after his meal, felt once more ready to face any number of difficulties. First he went to the bedside of his host and said: "Now, Mr. Homolupus, I want to find out what is the trouble and what I can do for you. Are you wounded, or just naturally ill?" The man looked at his questioner for a moment, as though he were on the point of speaking. Then he seemed to change his mind, and, reaching for a pencil and pad that lay close at hand, he wrote: "I am shot in the chest." "Who--I mean how----" began Cabot, and then, realising that his curiosity could well wait, he added: "But, with your permission, I will examine the wound and see if there is anything I can do." With this he sought and gently removed a blood-soaked bandage, thereby disclosing a sight so ghastly that it almost unnerved him. The wound was so terrible, and the loss of blood from it had evidently been so great, that how even the giant frame of the man-wolf could have survived it was amazing. Having no knowledge of surgery, Cabot could only bathe and rebandage it. Then he said: "Now, I am going to be your nurse, and you must lie perfectly still without attempting to get up again until I give you leave." Seeing an expression of dissent in the man's face, he continued: "It's all right. I am under the greatest of obligations to you, and am only too glad of a chance to pay some of it back. So I shall stay right here just as long as you need me. Fortunately I know something about both electricity and machinery, having been educated at a technical institute, so that I shall be able to manage very well with your plant. But I do wish you could explain a few things to me. Is your name really 'Homolupus'?" The sufferer smiled and wrote on his pad: "My name is Watson Balfour." [Illustration: "My name is Watson Balfour."] "Of London?" queried Cabot. The man nodded. "Is it possible that you can be Watson Balfour, the celebrated English electrician, who is supposed to have been lost at sea some years ago?" Again the man smiled and made a sign of assent. For a moment Cabot stared, well nigh speechless with the wonder and excitement of this discovery. Then he broke into a torrent of exclamations and questions. "Why, Mr. Balfour, I know you so well by reputation that you seem like an old friend. Your 'Handbook of Electricity' and your 'Comparative Voltage' are text books at the Institute. The whole scientific world mourned your supposed death. But how do you happen to be up here, and how have you managed to establish an electric plant in this wilderness? Why are you masquerading as a man-wolf? How did you lose the power of speech? How did you become so severely wounded? Can't you tell me some of these things?" For answer Mr. Balfour wrote: "Perhaps, some time. Tell first how you came here." So Cabot, forced to curb for the present his own overpowering curiosity, sat down and told of all that had happened since the departure of the man-wolf from Locked Harbour. When he had finished he said: "And now, I ought to go outside and see if I can discover any trace of my companions, who must be awfully cut up over my disappearance. But don't be uneasy, Mr. Balfour, I shan't go far, and whether I find them or not I shall certainly come back to stay just as long as you need me. I hope you will sleep while I am gone, and I wish you would promise not to leave your bed, or move more than is absolutely necessary, before my return." When Cabot first stepped outside the shelter that had proved such a haven of safety to him, he was dazzled by the brilliancy of the day. After becoming somewhat accustomed to the glare of sunlight on new-fallen snow, he turned to see what sort of a house he had just left. To his surprise there was no house; the only suggestion of one being two windows and a door set in a wall of rock that was built at the base of a cliff. "It is a cavern," thought Cabot, "and that is the reason the room is so easily kept warm. Mighty good thing to have in this country, especially when it is lined with furs." The snow lay unbroken, and there was no sign of the trail he had made the night before. For a short distance, however, he could go in but one direction, for the only way out was through the narrow defile by which he had entered. At its mouth he found the wire over which he had fallen, and thereby given notice of his approach by causing the ringing of an electric bell. "When he heard it he turned on the lights," said Cabot to himself. "It's a great scheme for scaring off Indians and attracting white men. I wonder if any other person ever found the place? What a marvellous thing my stumbling on it was, anyhow. Now, which way did I come?" Gazing blankly at the surrounding chaos of snow-covered rocks, our lad could form no idea of the route by which he had been led to that place, through the storm and darkness of the preceding night, nor of how he might leave it. "There is no use wandering aimlessly," he decided at length, "and I'll either have to gain a bird's-eye view of the country or get Mr. Balfour to make me a map. To think that I should have discovered him, and here of all places in the world. What a sensation it will make when I tell of it. Of course I shall do so, for I'll get out of this fix all right somehow. What a state of mind poor White must be in this morning. I know I should be in his place. He's all right, though, with Yim to pull him through, and they'll make Indian Harbour easy enough. Then I shall be reported lost, and after a while Mr. Hepburn will hear the news. Wonder what he thinks has become of me anyhow? I am following out instructions, and wintering in Labrador fast enough. Only I don't seem to have much time to investigate mining properties, and of course it's no use trying to find 'em buried under feet of snow. Perhaps Mr. Balfour has discovered some while roaming around the country as a man-wolf. How absurd to think of 'Voltage' Balfour as a man-wolf! Wonder why he did it? How I wish he could talk! Wonder why he can't?" While thus cogitating, Cabot had also been climbing a nearby eminence that promised a view of the outlying country, but from it he could see nothing save other hills rising still higher and an unbroken waste of snow. "It's no use," he sighed. "I don't believe I could find them, even if I had plenty of time. As it is, I don't dare stay away from Mr. Balfour any longer. I'm afraid he's a very sick man, with a slim chance of ever pulling through." So Cabot, after an absence of several hours, turned back towards the snug shelter so providentially provided for him, and for which he was just then more grateful than he could express. He was thinking of the many wonders of the place when he reached its door; but, as he opened it and stepped inside the room, he was greeted by a greater surprise than he had yet encountered. Nothing was changed about the interior, and the wounded man lay as Cabot had left him, but with the appearance of the latter he exclaimed: "Thank God, dear lad, that you have come back to me! It seemed as though I should go crazy if left alone a minute longer." Cabot stared in amazement. "Is it a miracle?" he finally asked, "and has your speech been restored to you, or have you been able to speak all the time?" "I have been able, but not willing," was the reply. "I had thought to die without speaking to a human being. I even avoided my fellows, believing myself sufficient unto myself. But God has punished my arrogance and shown me my weakness. Until you came no stranger has ever set foot within this dwelling, to none have I spoken, and not even to you did I intend to speak, but with your going my folly became plain. I feared you might never return; the horror of living alone, and the greater horror of dying alone, swept over me. Then I prayed for you to come. I promised to speak as soon as you were within hearing. Every moment since then I have watched for you and longed for your coming as a dying man longs for the breath of life. Promise that you will not leave me again." "I have already promised, and now I repeat, that I will not leave you so long as you have need of me," replied Cabot. "But tell me----" "I will tell you everything," interrupted the wounded man, "but first you must look after the dynamo. It has stopped, and if you cannot set it going again we must both perish." CHAPTER XXVII. THE MAN-WOLF'S STORY. An accident to the dynamo in that place where there was no fuel, and electricity must be depended upon for light and heat, was so serious a matter that, for a moment, even Cabot's curiosity concerning his host was merged in anxiety. "Where shall I find it?" he asked. "In the cavern back of this room. The doorway is behind that bearskin. This upper row of keys connects with the storage battery, and the second key controls the lights of the dynamo room. If there is a bad break I can manage to get to it, but I wouldn't try until you came, because I promised not to move." All this was said in a voice that faltered from weakness, and a wave of pity surged in Cabot's breast as he realised how dependent upon him this man, so recently a mental as well as a physical giant, had become. "I expect I shall be able to attend to it all right," he said decisively, as he turned on the stored current that would light the unknown cavern. "At any rate, I shall be able to report the condition of things, so that you can advise me what to do, or else my training is a greater failure than I think." With this he lifted the bearskin, opened a door thus disclosed, and found himself in a small, well-lighted cavern that was at once a dynamo room, a workshop, and a storehouse for a confused miscellany of articles. Without pausing to investigate any of these he went directly to a dynamo that had been set up at one side and examined it carefully. It appeared in perfect order, and the trouble must evidently be sought elsewhere. Cabot had wondered by what power the dynamo was driven, and now, hearing a sound of running water, he stepped in that direction. A short distance away he discovered a swift-flowing subterranean stream, in which revolved a water wheel of rude, but serviceable, construction. As nothing seemed wrong with it, he was obliged to look further, and finally found the cause of trouble to be a transmitting belt, the worn-out lacing of which had parted. As portions of the belt itself had been caught in the pulleys and badly cut, it was necessary to hunt through the pile of material for a new one, and for leather suitable for lacing. Then the new belt must be accurately measured, laced together, and adjusted to its pulleys. Although the temperature of the cavern was many degrees above that of the outside air, it was still so low that Cabot worked slowly and with numbed fingers. Thus more than an hour had elapsed before the dynamo was again in running order, and he was at liberty to return to the living room. In the meantime his curiosity concerning this strange place of abode and its mysterious tenant was increased by the remarkable collection of articles stored on all sides. There was no end of machinery, tools, and electrical apparatus of all kinds, including miles of copper wire and chemicals for charging batteries. Besides these, there were ropes, canvas, furniture, boxes, barrels, and other things too numerous to mention. "What a prize this place would have been for the Indians if they had ever discovered it," reflected the young engineer. "I wonder that he dared go off and leave it unguarded." When he finally returned to the outer room, he found it even colder than the cavern in which he had been working, and realised, as never before, the value of the knowledge that had enabled him to restore the usefulness of that electric heater. After getting it into operation, and making his report to the sick man, who had impatiently awaited him, there was another meal to prepare. So, in spite of Cabot's overwhelming desire to hear Mr. Balfour's story, there was so much to be done first that the short day had merged into another night before the opportunity arrived. When it came, our lad drew a chair to the bedside of his patient and said: "Now, sir, if you feel able to talk, and are willing to tell me how you happen to be living in this place, I shall be more than glad to listen." "I am willing," replied the other, "but must be brief, since talking has become an exertion. As perhaps you know, I was a working electrician in London, where, though I had a good business, I had not accumulated much money. Consequently I was greatly pleased to receive what promised to be a lucrative contract from a Canadian railway company for supplying and installing a quantity of electrical apparatus along their line. I at once invested every penny I could raise in the purchase of material and in the charter of a sailing vessel to transport it to this country. On the eve of sailing I married a young lady to whom I had long been engaged, and, with light hearts, we set forth on our wedding trip across the Atlantic. "The first two weeks of that voyage were filled with such happiness that I trembled for fear it should be snatched from me. During that time we had fair weather and favouring winds. Then we ran into a gale that lasted for days, and drove us far out of our course. One mast went by the board, the other was cut away to save the ship, and, while in this helpless condition, she struck at night, what I afterwards learned to be, a mass of floating ice. At the time all hands believed us to be on the coast, and the crew, taking our only seaworthy boat, put off in a panic, while I was below preparing my wife for departure. Thus deserted, we awaited the death that we expected with each passing moment, but it failed to come and the ship still floated. With earliest daylight I was on deck, and, to my amazement, saw land on both sides. We had been driven into the mouth of a broad estuary, up which wind and tide were still carrying us. "For three days our helpless drift, to and fro, was continued, and then our ship grounded on a ledge at the foot of these cliffs. Getting ashore with little difficulty, we were dismayed to find ourselves in an uninhabited wilderness, devoid even of vegetation other than moss and low growing shrubs. One of my first discoveries was this cavern with its subterranean stream of water, and two openings, one of which gives easy access to the sea. Knowing that our ship must, sooner or later, go to pieces, and desirous of saving what property I might, I rigged up a derrick at the mouth of the cavern, and, with the aid of my brave wife, transferred everything movable from the wreck; a labour of months. "Winter was now at hand, and, foreseeing that we must spend it where we were, I walled up the openings and made all possible preparations to fight the coming cold. We burned wood from the wreck while it lasted, and in the meantime I labored almost night and day at the establishment of an electric plant. But the awful winter came and found it still unfinished, and before the coming of another spring I was left alone." Here the speaker paused, overcome as much by his feelings as by weakness, and, during the silence that followed, Cabot stole away, ostensibly to see that the dynamo was running smoothly. When he returned the narrator had recovered his calmness, and was ready to continue his story. "She had never been strong," he said, "and I so cruelly allowed her to overwork herself that she had no strength left with which to fight the winter. She died in my arms in this very room, and I promised never to leave her. Also, after her death, I vowed that my last words to her should be my last to any human being, and, until this day, I have kept that vow, foolish and wicked though it was. I have talked and read aloud when alone, but to no man have I spoken. I have also avoided intercourse with my fellows, selfishly preferring to nurse my sorrow in sinful rebellion against God's will. Now am I justly punished by being stricken down in the pride of my strength. At the same time God has shown his everlasting mercy by sending you to me in the time of my sore need. And you have promised to stay with me until the end, which I feel assured is not far off." "I trust it may be," said Cabot, "for the world can ill afford to spare a man of your attainments." "The world has forgotten me ere this," replied Mr. Balfour, with a faint smile, "and has also managed to get along very well without me. Whether it has or has not I feel that I am shortly to rejoin my dear one." "How did it happen? I mean your wound," asked Cabot, abruptly changing the subject. "Was it an accident?" "It may have been, but I believe not. Dressed in wolf skins, I was creeping up on a small herd of caribou two days ago, when I was shot by some unknown person, probably an Indian hunting the same game, though I never saw him. I managed to crawl home, and as I lay here, filled with the horror of dying alone, the ringing of my alarm bell announced a coming of either man or beast. I found strength to turn on the outer lights and to sound a call for aid on my violin that I hoped would be heard and understood." "It was fortunate for me that you did both those things," said Cabot, "for I should certainly have remained where I fell after stumbling over the wire if it had not been for the combination of light and music. But tell me, sir, why have you masqueraded as a man-wolf?" "For convenience in hunting, as well as to inspire terror in the minds of savages and keep them at a respectful distance from this place." "Have they ever troubled you?" "At first they were inclined to, but not of late years." "Not of late years! Why, sir, how many years have you dwelt in this place?" "A little more than five." "Five years alone and cut off from the world! I should think you would feel like a prisoner shut in a dungeon." "No, for I have led the life of my own choice, and it has been full of active interests. I have had to hunt, trap, and fish for my own support. I have tried to redress some wrongs, and have been able to relieve much distress among the improvident natives. I have busied myself with electrical experiments, and have explored the surrounding country for a hundred miles on all sides." "Have you discovered any indications of mineral wealth during your explorations?" asked the young engineer, recalling his previous thought on this subject. "Quite a number, of which the most important is right here; for this range of cliffs is so largely composed of red hematite as to form one of the richest ore beds in the world." CHAPTER XXVIII. CABOT IS LEFT ALONE. Deeply interested and affected as Cabot had been by the electrician's story, his excitement over its conclusion caused him momentarily to forget everything else. "Does the ore show anywhere about here?" he asked eagerly. "Yes. Lift one of the skins hanging against the wall and you will find it. It is better, though, in the lower portions of the inner cavern, for the deeper you go the richer it gets." In another moment our young engineer was chipping bits of rock from the nearest wall, and then he must need explore those of the storeroom, where, on a bank of the subterranean stream, he found ore as rich as any he had ever seen, even in museums. Returning with hands and pockets full of specimens, he said: "This is the very thing for which I came to Labrador, but have thus far failed to find. Of course I have discovered plenty of indications, for the whole country is full of iron, but nowhere else have I found it in quantity or of a quality that would pay to work. Here you have both, and close to a navigable waterway." "On which the largest ships may moor to the very cliffs," added Mr. Balfour. "It means a fortune to the owner, and I congratulate you, sir." "My dear lad, I don't want it! I am an electrician, not a miner. Even if I were inclined to work it, which I am not, I should not be permitted to do so, for my earthly interests are very nearly ended. Therefore I cheerfully relinquish in your favour whatever claim I may have acquired by discovery or occupation. If you want it, take it, and may God's blessing go with the gift. Also, under this bed, you will find a bag containing more specimens that may interest you. Of them we will talk at another time, for now I am weary." With this the man turned his face to the wall, while Cabot, securing the bag, quickly became absorbed in an examination of its contents. Among these he found rich specimens of iron and copper ores, slabs of the rare and exquisitely beautiful Labradorite, with its sheen of peacock-blue, and even bits of gold-bearing quartz. For a long time he examined and tested these; then, with a sigh of content, he laid them aside and went to bed. His mission to Labrador was at length accomplished, and now he had only to get back to New York as quickly as possible. But getting to New York from that place, under existing circumstances, was something infinitely easier to plan than to accomplish. To begin with, he had promised to remain with the new-found friend, who was also so greatly his benefactor, so long as he should be needed, and he meant to fulfil the promise to the letter. But to do so taxed his patience to the utmost; for, in spite of the electrician's belief that he had not long to live, the passing of many weeks found his condition but little changed. At the same time, in spite of Cabot's best nursing and ceaseless attention, he failed to gain strength. Having once broken his years of silence, he now found his greatest pleasure in talking, and Cabot had frequently to interrupt his conversation on the pretence of taking outside exercise, to prevent him from exhausting himself in that way. He hated to do this, for Mr. Balfour's words were always instructive, and he so freely yielded the established secrets of his profession, as well as those of his own recent discoveries, to his young friend that Cabot acquired a rich store of valuable information during the short days and long nights of that Labrador winter. With the apparatus at hand, he was able to conduct many experiments and put into practice a number of his newly acquired theories. The sick man followed these with keenest interest, and aided his pupil with shrewd suggestions. At other times they discussed the mineral wealth of Labrador, and Mr. Balfour drew rough diagrams to show localities from which his various specimens had been brought. He also gave much time to a sketch map of the surrounding country, especially the coast between the place where the "Sea Bee" had been left and Indian Harbour, beyond which his knowledge did not extend. With these congenial occupations, time never hung heavily in the wilderness home of the Man-wolf, and, though bitter cold might reign outside, fierce storms rage, and driving snows pile themselves into mountainous drifts, neither hunger nor cold could penetrate its snug interior, warmed and lighted by the magic of modern science. With the passing weeks the old year died and a new one was born. January merged into February, and days began noticeably to lengthen. Through all these weeks Cabot kept up his strength by frequent exercise in the open, where, in conflict with storm and cold, he ever won some part of their own ruggedness. At the same time, his patient grew slowly but surely weaker, until at length he could converse only in whispers, and experienced such difficulty in swallowing that he had almost ceased to take nourishment. One evening while affairs stood thus, he roused himself sufficiently to inquire what day of the month it was. "The thirteenth of February," replied Cabot, who had kept careful note of the calendar. Instantly the man brightened, and said, with an unexpected strength of voice: "Six years to-morrow since we were married. Five years to-day since she left me, and to-night I shall rejoin her. Wish me joy, lad, for the long period of our separation is ended. Good-night, good-bye, God bless you!" With this final utterance, he again lapsed into silence, closed his eyes, and seemed to sleep. Several times during that night Cabot stole softly to his patient's bedside, but the latter was always asleep, and he would not disturb him. Only in the morning, when daylight revealed the marble-like repose of feature, did he know that a glad reunion of long parted lovers had been effected, and that it was he who was left alone. Although the position in which our lad now found himself was a very trying one, he had anticipated and planned for it. He had no boards with which to make a coffin, but there was plenty of stout canvas, and in a double thickness of this he sewed the body of his friend. Before doing so he dug away the snow beside a cairn of rocks that marked the last resting place of her who had gone before, and placed the electric heater, with extended wire connections, on the ground thus exposed. Within a few hours this soil became sufficiently thawed to permit him to dig a shallow grave, to which, by great effort, he managed to remove the shrouded body. After covering it, and piling above it rocks as large as he could lift, he returned to the empty dwelling, having completed the hardest and saddest day's work of his life. So terrible was the loneliness of that night, and so anxious was Cabot to take his departure, that he was again astir long before daylight, completing his preparations. He had previously built a light sled that he proposed to drag, and had planned exactly what it should carry. Now he loaded this with a canvas-wrapped package of cooked provisions, a sleeping bag, a rifle together with a few rounds of ammunition, a light axe, his precious bag of specimens, and the Man-wolf's electric flashlight with its battery newly charged. With everything thus in readiness he ate a hearty meal, threw the dynamo out of gear, closed the door and shutters of the place that had given him the shelter of a home, adjusted the hauling straps of his sled, and set resolutely forth on his venturesome journey across the frozen wilderness. In his mittened hands Cabot carried a stout staff tipped with a boathook, and this proved of inestimable service in aiding him down the face of the cliffs to the frozen surface of the estuary; for, by Mr. Balfour's advice, he had determined to follow the coast line rather than attempt the shorter but more uncertain inland route. Although the distance to be covered was but little over one hundred miles, the journey was so beset with difficulties and hardships that only our young engineer's splendid physical condition and recently acquired skill, combined with indomitable pluck, enabled him to accomplish it. While he sometimes met with smooth stretches of snow-covered ice, it was generally piled in huge wind-rows, incredibly rugged and difficult to surmount. Again it would be broken away from the base of sheer cliffs, where stretches of open water would necessitate toilsome inland detours over or around lofty headlands. He was always buffetted by strong winds, and often halted by blinding snowstorms. He had no fire, no warm food, and no shelter save such as he could make by burrowing into snowdrifts. During the weary hours of one whole night he held a pack of snarling wolves at bay by means of his flashlight. But always he pushed doggedly forward, and after ten days of struggle, exhausted almost beyond the power for further effort, but immensely proud of his achievement, he reached the goal of his long desire. Indian Harbour--with its hospital, its church, its two or three houses, and score of native huts, seemed to our lad almost a metropolis after his months of wilderness life, and the welcome he received from its warm-hearted inhabitants when he made known his identity was that of one raised from the dead. White Baldwin and Yim had been there many weeks earlier, and had reported his disappearance under circumstances that left no hope of his ever again being seen alive. Then the latter had set forth on his return journey, while White had joined a mail carrier and started for Battle Harbour. Now occurred what promised to be a serious interruption to Cabot's southward advance, for no one was proposing to travel in that direction, and, in spite of their hospitality, his new acquaintances were not inclined to undertake the arduous task of guiding him to Battle Harbour, 250 miles away, without being well paid for their labour, and our young engineer had no money. Nor, after his recent experience, did he care to again encounter the perils of the wilderness alone. But fortune once more favoured him; for while he was chafing against this enforced detention, Dr. Graham Aspland, house surgeon of the Battle Harbour Hospital, who makes a heroic sledge journey to the far north every winter, arrived on his annual errand of mercy. He would set out on his return trip a few days later, and would be more than pleased to have Cabot for a companion. Thus it happened that one bright day in early March the music of sledge bells and the cracking of a dog driver's whip attracted the inmates of the Battle Harbour Hospital to doors and windows to witness an arrival. Two fur-clad figures followed a great travelling sledge, and one of them dragged a small sled of his own. As he came to a halt, and began wearily to loosen his hauling gear, he cast a glance at one of the upper windows, and uttered an exclamation of amazement. Then, with a joyful cry, he shouted: "Hello! White, old man! Run down here and say you're glad I've come!" CHAPTER XXIX. DRIFTING WITH THE ICE PACK. Cabot had learned from Dr. Aspland of White's arrival at Battle Harbour two months before, with a leg so badly wrenched by slipping into an ice crevice that he had gone to the hospital for treatment, but had expected that he would long ere this have taken his departure. At the same time White had, of course, given up all hope of ever again seeing the friend to whom he had become so deeply attached. He had been terribly cut up over Cabot's disappearance on the night of the blizzard, and, with the faithful Yim, had spent days in searching for him. They had gone back to the timber, only to find the Indian camp deserted, and that its recent occupants had made a hasty departure. Finally they had given over the hopeless search and had sadly continued their southward journey. Now to again behold Cabot alive and well filled poor White with such joyful amazement that for some minutes he could not frame an intelligent sentence. He flew down to where the new arrival still struggled with his hauling gear, and flung himself so impulsively upon him that both rolled over in the snow. There, with gasping exclamations of delight, they wrestled themselves into a mood of comparative calmness that enabled them to regain their feet and begin to ask questions. For some time White had been sufficiently recovered to resume his journey, had an opportunity offered for so doing, but, as none had come to him, he had earned his board by acting as nurse in the hospital. If he had been anxious to depart before, he was doubly so now that he had regained his comrade, and Cabot fully shared his impatience of further delay. But how they were to reach the coast of Newfoundland they could not imagine. It would still be many weeks before vessels of any kind could be expected at Battle Harbour, and they had no money with which to undertake the expensive journey by way of Quebec. "If only the ocean would freeze over, we could walk home!" exclaimed Cabot one day, as the two friends sat gloomily discussing their prospects. And then that very thing came to pass. A dog sledge arrived from Forteau, that same evening, bringing a wounded man to the hospital for treatment, and its driver reported the Strait of Belle Isle as being so solidly packed with ice that several persons had traversed it from shore to shore. "If others have made the trip, why can't we?" cried Cabot. "I am willing to try it, if you are," replied White, and by daylight of the following morning the impatient lads were on their way up the coast in search of the ice bridge to Newfoundland. Cabot had traded his electric flashlight for a supply of provisions sufficient to load his sled, which they took turns at hauling, and four days after leaving Battle Harbour they reached L'Anse au Loup. At that point the strait is only a dozen miles wide, and there, if anywhere, they could cross it. It was midday when they came to the winter huts of L'Anse au Loup, and they had intended remaining in one of them over night, but a short conversation with its owner caused them to change their plans. "Yas, there be solid pack clear to ither side all right," he said, "but happen it 'll go out any time. Fust change o' wind 'll loose it, and one's to be looked for. Ah wouldn't resk it on no account mahself, but if Ah had it to do, Ah'd go in a hurry 'ithout wasting no time." "It is a case of necessity with us," said Cabot. "Yes," agreed White, "we simply must go, and the quicker we set about it the better. If we make haste I believe we can get across by dark." Thus determined, and disregarding a further expostulation from the fisherman, our lads set their faces resolutely towards the confusion of hummocks, "pans," floes tilted on edge, and up-reared masses of blue ice forming the "strait's pack" of that season. Five minutes later they were lost to sight amid the frozen chaos. "Wal," soliloquized the man left standing on shore, "Ah 'opes they'll make it, but it's a fearsome resk, an' Gawd 'elp 'em if come a shift o' wind afore they're over." Nothing, in all their previous experience of Labrador travel, had equalled the tumultuous ruggedness of the way by which Cabot and White were now attempting to bridge that boisterous arm of the stormy northern ocean, and to advance at all taxed their strength to the utmost. To transport their laden sled was next to impossible, but they dared not leave it behind, and with their progress thus impeded they were barely half way to the Newfoundland coast when night overtook them. Even though the gathering darkness had not compelled a halt, their utter exhaustion would have demanded a rest. For an hour White had been obliged to clinch his teeth to keep from crying out with the pain of his weakened, and now overstrained, ankle, and when Cabot announced that it was no use trying to get further before morning, he sank to the ice with a groan. Full of sympathy for his comrade's suffering, the Yankee lad at once set to work to make him as comfortable as circumstances would permit, and soon had him lying on a sleeping bag, in a niche formed by two uptilted slabs of ice. Profiting by past experience, they had procured and brought with them an Eskimo lamp with its moss wick, a small quantity of seal oil, and a supply of matches, so that, after a while, Cabot procured enough boiling water to furnish a small pot of tea. When they had eaten their simple meal of tea, hard bread, and pemmican, White's ankle was bathed with water as hot as he could bear it, and then the weary lads turned in for such sleep as their cheerless quarters might yield. About midnight the wind that had for many days blown steadily from the eastward changed to northwest, and, with the coming of daylight, it was blowing half a gale from that direction. To Cabot this change meant little or nothing, and he was suggesting that they remain where they were until White's leg should be thoroughly rested, when the other interrupted him with: "But we can't stay here. Don't you feel the change of wind?" "What of it?" asked Cabot. "Oh, nothing at all, only that it will drive the ice out to sea, and, if we haven't reached land before it begins to move, we'll go with it." "You don't mean it!" cried Cabot, now thoroughly alarmed. "In that case we'd best get a move on in a hurry. Do you think your leg will stand the trip?" "It will have to," rejoined White, grimly; and a few minutes later they had resumed the toilsome progress that was now a race for life. But it was a snail's race, for the task of moving the sled had devolved entirely upon Cabot, White having all he could do to drag himself along. Each step gave him such exquisite pain that, by the time they had accomplished a couple of miles, he was crawling on hands and knees. Still, as Cabot hopefully pointed out, the Newfoundland coast was in plain sight, and the ice held as firm as ever. He had hardly spoken when there came a distant roaring, that quickly developed into a sound of crashing and grinding not to be mistaken. "The ice is moving!" gasped White. "Then," said Cabot bravely, "we'll move too. Come on, old man. We'll leave the sled, and I'll get you ashore even if I have to carry you. It isn't so very far now." With this the speaker disengaged his hauling straps and turned to assist his comrade, but, to his dismay, the latter lay on the ice pale and motionless. What with pain, over-exertion, and excitement, White had fainted, and Cabot must either carry him to the shore, remain beside him until he recovered, or leave him to his fate and save himself by flight over the still unbroken ice. He tried the first plan, picked White up, staggered a few steps with his helpless burden, and discovered its futility. Then he proceeded to put the second into execution by calmly unloading the sled and making such arrangements as his slender means would allow for his comrade's comfort. The third plan came to him merely as a thought, to be promptly dismissed as unworthy of consideration. In the meantime the ominous sounds of cracking, grinding, rending, and splitting grew ever louder, and came ever closer, until, at length, Cabot could see and feel that the ice all about him was in motion. By the time White recovered consciousness, a broad lane of black water had opened between that place and the Newfoundland coast, while others could be seen in various directions. "What are you doing?" asked White, feebly, after he had struggled back to a knowledge of passing events, and had, for some minutes, been watching his friend's movements. "Building an igloo," answered Cabot, cheerily. "We might as well be comfortable while we can, and though my hut won't have the architectural beauty that Yim could give it, I believe it will keep us warm." It would have been more than easy, and perfectly natural, under the circumstances, to give way to utter despair; for of the several hopeless situations in which our lads had been placed during the past few months, the present was, by far, the worst. At any moment the ice beneath them might open and drop them into fathomless waters. Even if it held fast, they were certainly being carried out to sea, where they would be exposed to furious gales that must ultimately work their destruction. In spite of all this, Cabot Grant insisted on remaining hopefully cheerful. He said he had squeezed out of just as tight places before, and believed he would get out of this one somehow. At any rate, as crying wouldn't help it, he wasn't going to cry. Besides all sorts of things might happen. They might drift ashore somewhere or into the track of passing steamers. Wouldn't it be fine to be picked up and carried straight to New York? If steamers failed them, they were almost certain to sight fishing boats sooner or later. "Yes," added White, catching some of his companion's hopefulness, "or we may meet with the sealers who leave St. Johns about this time every year and hunt seals on the ice pack off shore." "Of course," agreed the other. "So what's the use of worrying?" In spite of the brave front and cheerful aspect that Cabot maintained before his helpless comrade, he often broke down when off by himself, vainly straining his eyes from the summit of some ice hummock for any hopeful sign, and acknowledged that their situation was indeed desperate. That first night, spent sleeplessly and in momentary expectation that the ice beneath them would break, was the worst. After that they dreaded more than anything the fate that would overtake them with the disappearance of their slender stock of provisions. While this diminished with alarming rapidity, despite their efforts at economy, their ice island drifted out from the strait, and soon afterwards became incorporated with the great Arctic pack that always in the spring forces its resistless way steadily south-ward towards the melting waters of the Gulf Stream. Land had disappeared with the second day of the ice movement, and after that, for a week, nothing occurred to break the terrible monotony of life on the pack, as experienced by our young castaways. Then came the dreaded announcement that one portion of their supplies was exhausted. There was no longer a drop of oil for their lamp. CHAPTER XXX. THE COMING OF DAVID GIDGE. White, who was still confined to the hut with his strained ankle, announced that they no longer had any oil upon Cabot's return at dusk from a day of fruitless hunting and outlook duty on the ice. "That's bad," replied the latter, in a tone whose cheerfulness strove to conceal his anxiety. "Now we'll have to burn the sled. Lucky thing for us that it's of wood instead of being one of those bone affairs such as we saw at Locked Harbour." "Our provisions are nearly gone too," added White. "In fact we've only enough for one more day." "Oh, well! A lot of things can happen in a day, and some of them may happen to us." But the only thing worthy of note that happened on the following day was a storm of such violence as to compel even stout-hearted Cabot to remain behind the sheltering walls of the hut, and, while it raged, our shivering lads, crouched above a tiny blaze of sled wood, ate their last morsel of food. They still had a small quantity of tea, but that was all. As soon, therefore, as the storm abated Cabot sallied forth with his gun, still hopeful, in spite of many disappointments, of finding some bird or beast that, by a lucky shot, might be brought to the table. The ice pack was of such vast extent that it seemed as though it must support animal life of some kind, but Cabot traversed it that day for many miles without finding so much as a track or a feather. That night's supper was a pot of tea, and a similar one formed the sole nourishment upon which Cabot again set forth the next morning for another of those weary hunts. This time he went further from the hut than he had dared go on previous expeditions; but on them he had been hopeful and knew that even though he failed in his hunting he would still find food awaiting him on his return. Now he was desperate with hunger, and the knowledge that failing in his present effort he would not have strength for another. In his mind, too, he carried a vivid picture of poor White, crouching in that wretched hut over an expiring blaze fed by the very last of their wood. "I simply can't go back empty-handed!" he cried aloud. "It would be better not to go back at all, and let him hope for my coming to the last." So the young hunter pushed wearily and hopelessly on, until he found himself at the foot of a line of icebergs that had been frozen into the pack, where they resembled a range of fantastically shaped hills. Cabot had seen them from a distance on a previous expedition, and had wondered what lay beyond. Now he determined to find out, though he knew if he once crossed them there would be little chance of regaining the hut before dark. It was a laborious climb, and several times he slid back to the place of starting, but each mishap of this kind only made him the more determined to gain the top. At length, breathless and bruised, crawling on hands and knees, he reached a point from which he could look beyond the barrier. As he did so, he turned sick and uttered a choking cry. [Illustration: He reached a point from which he could look beyond the barrier.] What he saw in that first glance was so utterly incredible that it could not be true, though if it were it would be the most welcome and beautiful sight in all the world. Yet it was only a ship! Just one ship and a lot of men! The ship was not even a handsome one, being merely a three-masted steam sealer, greasy and smeared in every part with coal soot from her tall smoke stack. She lay a mile or so away, but well within the pack, through the outer edge of which she had forced a passage. The men, evidently her crew, who were on the ice near the foot of Cabot's ridge, were a disreputable looking lot, ragged, dirty, unkempt, and as bloody as so many butchers. And that is exactly what they were--butchers engaged in their legitimate business of killing the seals that, coming up from the south to meet the drifting ice pack, had crawled out on it by thousands to rear their young. This was all that Cabot saw; yet the sight so affected him that he laughed and sobbed for joy. Then he stood up, and, with glad tears blinding his eyes, tried to shout to the men beneath him, but could only utter hoarse whispers; for, in his overpowering happiness, he had almost lost the power of speech. As he could not call to them he began to wave his arms to attract their attention, and then, all at once, he was nearly paralysed by a hail from close at hand of: "Hello there, ye bloomin' idjit! Wot's hup?" Whirling around, Cabot saw, standing only a few rods away, a man who had evidently just climbed the opposite side of the ridge. He recognised him in an instant, as he must have done had he met him in the most crowded street of a great city, so distinctively peculiar was his figure. "David! David Gidge!" he gasped, recovering his voice for the effort, and in another moment, flinging his arms about the astonished mariner's neck, he was pouring out a flood of incoherent words. "Wal, I'll be jiggered!" remarked Mr. Gidge, as he disengaged himself from Cabot's impulsive embrace and stepped back for a more comprehensive view. "Your voice sounds familiar, Mister, but I can't say as I ever seen you before. I took ye fust off fer a b'ar, and then fer a Huskie. When I seen you was white, I 'lowed ye might be one of the 'Marmaid's' crew, seeing as she was heading fer the pack 'bout the time we struck it. Now, though, as I say, I'm jiggered ef I know exectly who ye be." "Why, Mr. Gidge, I'm Cabot Grant, who----" "Of course. To be sartin! Now I know ye!" interrupted the other. "But where's White? What hev ye done with Whiteway Baldwin?" "He's back there on the ice helpless with a crippled leg, freezing and starving to death; but if you'll come at once I'll show you the way, and we may still be in time to save him." With instant comprehension of the necessity for prompt action, Mr. Gidge, who, as Cabot afterwards learned, was first mate of the sealer "Labrador," turned and shouted in stentorian tones to the men who were working below: "Knock off, all hands, and follow me. Form a line and keep hailing distance apart, so's we'll find our way back after dark. There's white men starving on the ice. One of ye go to the ship and report. Move lively! Now, lad, I'm ready." Two hours later Cabot and David Gidge, with, a long line of men streaming out behind them, reached the little hut. There was no answer to the cheery shouts with which they approached it, and, as they crawled through its low entrance, they were filled with anxious misgivings. What if they were too late after all? No spark of fire lighted the gloom or took from the deadly chill of the interior, and no voice bade them welcome. But, as David Gidge struck a match, a low moaning sounded from one side, and told them that White was at least alive. It took but a minute to remove him from the hut, together with the few things worth taking away that it contained. Then it was left without a shadow of regret, and the march to the distant ship was begun. Four men carried White, who seemed to have sunk into a stupor, while two more supported Cabot, who had become suddenly weak and so weary that he begged to be allowed to sleep where he was. "It's been a close call for both of 'em," said David Gidge, "and now, men, we've got to make the quickest kind of time getting 'em back to the ship." Fortunately there were plenty of willing hands to which the burdens might be shifted, for the "Labrador" carried a crew two hundred strong, and, as the little party moved swiftly from one shouting man to another, it constantly gained accessions. At length the sealer was reached, and the rescued lads were taken to her cabin, where the ship's doctor, having made every possible preparation for their reception, awaited them. They were given hot drinks, rubbed, fed, and placed between warm blankets, where poor, weary Cabot was at last allowed to fall asleep without further interruption. The animal sought by the sealers of Newfoundland amid the furious storms and crashing floes of the great ice pack is not the fur-bearing seal of Alaska, but a variety of the much less important hair seal, which may be seen almost anywhere along the Atlantic coast. From its skin seal leather is made, but it is chiefly valuable for the oil yielded by the layer of fat lying directly beneath the skin and enveloping the entire body. These seals would hardly be worth hunting unless they could be captured easily and in quantities; but, on their native ice in early spring, the young seals are found in prime condition and in vast numbers. Each helpless victim is killed by a blow on the head, "sculped" or stripped of his pelt, and the flayed body is left lying in a pool of its own blood. The crew of a single vessel will thus destroy thousands of seals in a day, and in some prosperous years the total kill of seals has passed the half million mark. Now only about a dozen steamers are engaged in the business, but by them from 200,000 to 300,000 seals are destroyed each spring. The movements of sealing vessels are governed by rigidly enforced laws that forbid them to leave port before the 12th of March, to kill a seal before the 14th of the same month, or after the 20th of April, and prohibit any steamer from making more than one trip during this short open season. The crews are paid in shares of the catch, and men are never difficult to obtain for the work, as the sealing season comes when there is nothing else to be done. As March was not yet ended when our lads were received aboard the "Labrador," and as she would not return to port until the last minute of the open season had expired, they had before them nearly a month in which to recover their exhausted energies and learn the business of sealing. White had suffered so severely, and reached such a precarious condition, that he required every day of the allotted time for recuperation, and even at its end his strength was by no means fully restored. Cabot, on the other hand, woke after a thirty-six-hour nap, ravenously hungry, and as fit as ever for anything that might offer. After that, although he could never bring himself to assist in clubbing baby seals to death, he took an active part in the other work of the ship, thereby fully repaying the cost of the food eaten by himself and White. Of course, with their very first opportunity, both lads eagerly plied David Gidge with questions concerning the welfare of the Baldwin family and everything that had happened during their long absence. Thus they learned to their dismay that another suit had been brought against the Baldwin estate that threatened to swallow what little property had been left, and that White, having been convicted of contempt of court for continuing the lobster factory after an adverse decision had been rendered, was now liable to a fine of one thousand dollars, or imprisonment, as soon as he landed. "But what has become of my mother and sister?" asked White. "They are in Harbour Grace," answered David Gidge, "stopping with some kin of mine. You see, all three of us was brung to St. Johns as witnesses, and there wasn't money enough to take us back till I could come sealing and make some." "You are a trump, David Gidge!" exclaimed Cabot, while White gratefully squeezed the honest fellow's hand. "I promised to look arter 'em till you come back," said the sailorman, simply. At length the sealing season closed, and the prow of the "Labrador" was turned homeward, but even now, after many an anxious discussion, our lads were undecided as to what they should do upon landing. But a solution of the problem came to Cabot on the day that the steamer entered Conception Bay and anchored close off Bell Island, to await the moving of a great ice mass that had drifted into the harbour. "I know what we'll do!" he cried. CHAPTER XXXI. ASSISTANT MANAGER OF THE MAN-WOLF MINE. As the deeply laden sealer drew near to land, Cabot had impatiently scanned the coast of the great island that he had once thought so remote, but which, after his long sojourn in the Labrador wilderness, now seemed almost the same as New York itself. When the "Labrador" entered Conception Bay, at the head of which lies Harbour Grace, her home port, and was forced by ice to anchor, he inquired concerning a small island that lay close at hand. "Bell Island," he repeated meditatively, on being told its name. "Isn't there an iron mine on it?" "Sartain," replied David Gidge. "The whole island is mostly made of iron." "Then it is a place that I particularly want to visit, and I know what we will do. Of course, White, we can't let you go to prison, but at the same time you haven't, immediately available, the money with which to pay that fine. I have, though, right in St. Johns. So, if you will endorse that New York draft to me, I will carry it into the city, deposit it at the bank, draw out the cash, and take the first train for Harbour Grace, so as to be there with more than enough money to pay your fine when you arrive. After that I propose that we both go on to New York, where I am almost certain I can get you something to do that will pay even better than a lobster factory. If that plan strikes you as all right, and if Mr. Gidge will set me ashore here, I'll just take a look at Bell Island and then hurry on to St. Johns." The plan appearing feasible to White, Cabot--taking with him only his bag of specimens, to which he intended to add others of the Bell Island ore--bade his friends a temporary farewell, and was set ashore. As the country was still covered with snow, he had slung his snowshoes on his back, and as he was still clad in the well-worn fur garments that had been so necessary in Labrador, his appearance was sufficiently striking to attract attention as soon as he landed. One of the very first persons who spoke to him proved to be the young superintendent of the mine he wished to visit, and, when this gentleman learned that Cabot had just returned from Labrador, he offered him every hospitality. Not only did he show him over the mine and give him all possible information concerning it, but he kept him over night in his own bachelor quarters, and provided a boat to take him across to Portugal Cove on the mainland in the morning. From that point, there being no conveyance, Cabot was forced to walk the nine miles into St. Johns, which city he did not reach until nearly noon. Even there, where fur-clad Arctic explorers are not uncommon, Cabot's costume attracted much attention. Disregarding this, he inquired his way to the Bank of Nova Scotia, where he presented the letter of credit that he had carefully treasured amid all the vicissitudes of the past ten months. The paying teller of the bank examined it closely, and then took a long look at the remarkable-appearing young man who had presented it. Finally he said curtly: "Sign your name." Cabot did so, and the other, after comparing the two signatures, retired to an inner room. From it he reappeared a few moments later and requested Cabot to follow him inside, where the manager wished to see him. The manager also regarded our lad with great curiosity as he said: "You have retained this letter a long time without presenting it." "And I might have retained it longer if I had not been in need of money," rejoined Cabot, somewhat nettled by the man's manner. "You are Cabot Grant of New York?" "I am." "Not yet of age?" "Not quite." "And you have a guardian?" "I have." "Do you mind telling his name and address?" "Is that a necessary preliminary to drawing money on a letter of credit?" "In this case it is." "Well, then, he is James Hepburn, President of the Gotham Trust and Investment Company." "Just so, and you will doubtless be interested in this communication from him." So saying, the manager handed over the telegram in which Mr. Hepburn instructed the St. Johns branch of the Bank of Nova Scotia to advance only the price of a ticket to New York on a letter of credit that would be presented by his ward, Cabot Grant. "What does it mean?" asked Cabot in bewilderment, as he finished reading this surprising order. "I've no idea," replied the manager dryly. "I only know that we are bound to follow those instructions, and can let you have but forty dollars, which is the price of a first-class ticket to New York by steamer. Moreover, as this is sailing day, and the New York steamer leaves in a couple of hours, I would advise you to engage passage and go on board at once, if you do not want to be indefinitely detained here." "In what way?" "Possibly by the sheriff, who has wanted you for some time in connection with a certain French Shore lobster case that the government is prosecuting." Perplexed and indignant as he was, Cabot realised that only in New York could his tangled affairs be straightened out, and that the quicker he got there the better. Determined, however, to make one more effort in behalf of his friend, he produced the missionary's draft and asked if the manager would cash it. "Certainly not," replied that individual promptly. "Under present circumstances, Mr. Grant, we must decline to have any business dealings with you other than to accept your receipt for forty dollars, which will be paid you in the outer office." So Cabot swallowed his pride, took what he could get, and left the bank a little more downcast than he had been at any time since the day on which President Hepburn had entrusted him with his present mission. "I don't understand it at all," he muttered to himself, as he sought an eating-house, where he proposed to expend a portion of his money in satisfying his keen appetite. "Seems to me it is a mighty mean return for all I have gone through, and Mr. Hepburn will have to explain matters pretty clearly when I get back to New York." From the eating-house Cabot sent a letter to White, explaining his inability to secure the money he had expected, begging him to lie low for a few days, and announcing his own immediate departure for New York, from which place he promised to send back the amount of the draft immediately upon his arrival. In this letter Cabot also enclosed fifteen dollars, just to help White out until he could send him some more money. This outlay left our young engineer but twenty-five dollars, but that would pay for a steerage passage, which, he reflected, would be plenty good enough for one in his reduced circumstances, and leave a few dollars for emergencies when he reached New York. Two hours later, still clutching the bag of specimens that now formed his sole luggage, he stood on the forward deck of the steamer "Amazon" as she slipped through the narrow passage leading out from the land-locked harbour, gazing back at the city of St. Johns climbing its steep hillside and dominated by the square towers of its Roman Catholic cathedral. He was feeling very forlorn and lonely, and was wondering how he should manage to exist on steerage fare in steerage company during the next five days, when a familiar voice, close at hand, said: "Hello, young man in furs! Where do you come from? Been to the North Pole with Peary?" Turning quickly, Cabot gasped out: "Captain Phinney!" "No, not cap'n, but second mate Phinney," retorted the other. "But how do you know my name? I don't recognise you." "I am Cabot Grant, who was with you on the 'Lavinia' when----" "Good heavens, man! It can't be." "It is, though, and I never was more glad to see any one, not even David Gidge, than I am to see you at this minute. But why are you second mate instead of captain?" "Because," replied the other bitterly, "it was the only berth they would give me after I lost my ship, and I had to take it or beg." "But I thought you went down with the 'Lavinia'?" "So I thought you did, but it seems both of us were mistaken. All but you got off in two of the boats, and ours was picked up the next day by a liner bound for New York. But how, in the name of all that is wonderful-- Hold on, though. Let us go up to my room, where we can talk comfortably." As a result of this happy meeting, Cabot's voyage was made very pleasant after all. Much as he had to tell and to hear, he also found time to write out a full report on the Bell Island mine, and also a series of notes concerning the ore specimens that he was carrying to New York. At length the great city was reached, the "Amazon" was made fast to her Brooklyn pier, and Cabot went to bid the second mate good-bye. "Hold on a bit," said the latter, "and run up to the house with me. You can't go without seeing Nelly and the baby." "Nice calling rig I've got on, haven't I?" laughed Cabot. "Why, it would scare 'em stiff. So not to-day, thank you; but I'll come to-morrow." The carriage that Cabot engaged to carry him across to the city cost him his last cent of money, but he knew it was well worth it when, still in furs and with his snowshoes still strapped to his back, he entered the Gotham building. Such a sensation did he create that he would have been mobbed in another minute had he not dodged into an elevator and said: "President's room, please." He so petrified Mr. Hepburn's clerks and office boys by his remarkable appearance that they neglected to check his progress, and allowed him to walk unchallenged into the sacred private office. Its sole occupant was writing, and did not notice the entrance until Cabot, laying a folded paper on his desk, said: "Here is that Bell Island report, Mr. Hepburn." The startled man sprang to his feet with a face as pale as though he had seen a ghost, and for a few moments stared in speechless amazement at the fur-clad intruder. Then the light of recognition flashed into his eyes, and holding out a cordial hand he said: "My dear boy, how you frightened me! Where on earth did you come from?" "From the steerage of the steamer 'Amazon,'" replied Cabot, stiffly, ignoring his guardian's proffered hand. "I only dropped in to hand you that Bell Island report, and to say that, as this happens to be my twenty-first birthday, I shall be pleased to receive whatever of my property you may still hold in trust at your earliest convenience. With that business transacted, it is perhaps needless to add, that I shall trouble no further the man who was cruel enough to leave me penniless among strangers." "Cabot, are you crazy, or what do you mean? I received your Bell Island report months ago, and it was that caused me to recall you. Why did you not come at once?" "I never sent a Bell Island report. In fact I never wrote one until yesterday, and there it lies. Nor did I ever receive any notice of recall, and I did not come back sooner because I have been following your instructions and wintering in Labrador. There I have acquired one of the most remarkable iron properties in the world, which I intend to develop as far as possible with my own resources, seeing that not one cent of your money has been used in defraying the expenses of my recent trip," replied Cabot, hotly. But Mr. Hepburn did not hear the last of this speech, for he had opened the report laid on his desk and was glancing rapidly through it. "This is exactly what I expected and wanted!" he exclaimed. "Why didn't you send it in before, instead of that other one?" "I never sent any other," repeated Cabot, and then they sat down to mutual explanations. For that whole morning President Hepburn denied himself to all callers and devoted his entire attention to Cabot's recital. When it was finished, and when the bag full of specimens had been examined, the elder man grasped the other's hand and said: "My dear boy, you have done splendidly! I am not only satisfied with you as an agent, but am proud of you as a ward. Yes, this is your day of freedom from our guardianship, and I shall take pleasure in turning over to you the balance of the property left by your father. It, together with the balance remaining on your letter of credit, and your salary for the past year, will amount to about ten thousand dollars, a portion of which at least I would advise you to invest in the Man-wolf mine." [Illustration: "My dear boy, you have done splendidly!"] "Then you intend to develop it, sir?" cried Cabot. "Certainly, provided we can acquire your claim to the property, and engage a certain Mr. Cabot Grant to act as our assistant Labrador manager." "Do you think me capable of filling so responsible a position, sir?" "I am convinced of it," replied Mr. Hepburn, smiling. "And may I find places for White, and David Gidge, and Captain Phinney, and----" "One of the duties of your new position will be the selection of your subordinates," interrupted the other, "and I should hope you would give preference to those whose fidelity you have already tested." Within an hour after this happy conclusion of the interview, Cabot had wired White Baldwin the full amount of the missionary's draft and invited him to come as quickly as possible to New York. He had also written to Captain Phinney asking him to resign at once his position as second mate, in order that he might assume command of a steamer shortly to be put on a run between New York and Labrador. With these pleasant duties performed, our young engineer prepared to accept President Hepburn's invitation to a dinner that was to be given in his honour, and with which the happiest day of his life was to be concluded. THE END. 
32833	----	A Woman's Place By MARK CLIFTON Illustrated by EMSH [Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction May 1955. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] [Sidenote: Home is where you hang up your spaceship--that is, if you have any Miss Kitty along!] It was the speaking of Miss Kitty's name which half roused her from sleep. She eased her angular body into a more comfortable position in the sack. Still more asleep than awake, her mind reflected tartly that in this lifeboat, hurtling away from their wrecked spaceship back to Earth, the sleeping accommodation was quite appropriately named. On another mental level, she tried to hear more of what was being said about her. Naturally, hearing one's name spoken, one would. "We're going to have to tell Miss Kitty as soon as she wakes up." It was Sam Eade talking to Lt. Harper--the two men who had escaped with her. "Yes, Sam," the lieutenant answered. "What we've suspected all along is pretty definite now." Still drowsing, she wondered, without any real interest, what they felt they must tell her. But the other level of her mind was more real. She wondered how she looked to these two young men while she slept. Did she sleep with her mouth open? Did her tiara slip while she snored? * * * * * Vividly, as in full dreaming, she slipped back into the remembered scene which had given birth to the phrase. At some social gathering she had been about to enter a room. She'd overheard her name spoken then, too. "Miss Kitty is probably a cute enough name when you're young," the catty woman was saying. "But at her age!" "Well, I suppose you might say she's kept it for professional reasons," the other woman had answered with a false tolerance. "A school teacher, wanting to be cozy with her kiddies, just a big sister." The tolerance was too thin, it broke away. "Kind of pathetic, I think. She's so plain, so very typical of an old maid school teacher. She's just the kind to keep a name like Miss Kitty." "What gets me," the first one scoffed, "is her pride in having such a brilliant mind--if she really does have one. All those academic degrees. She wears them on every occasion, like a tiara!" She had drawn back from the door. But in her instant and habitual introspection, she realized she was less offended than perversely pleased because, obviously, they were jealous of her intellectual accomplishments, her ability to meet men on their own ground, intellectually as good a man as any man. The half dream drowsiness was sharply washed away by the belated impact of Sam Eade's question to Lt. Harper. Reality flashed on, and she was suddenly wide awake in the lifeboat heading back to Earth. [Illustration] "What is it you must tell me?" She spoke loudly and crisply to the men's broad backs where they sat in front of the instrument panel. The implication of the question, itself, that they had been holding something back.... Lt. Harper turned slowly around in his seat and looked at her with that detested expression of amused tolerance which his kind of adult male affected toward females. He was the dark, ruggedly handsome type, the kind who took it for granted that women should fawn over him. The kind who would speak the fatuous cliche that a woman's place was in the home, not gallivanting off to teach colonists' children on the fourth planet of Procyon. Still, perhaps she was unjust, she hardly knew the man. "Oh, you awake, Miss Kitty?" he asked easily. His tone, as always, was diffident, respectful toward her. Odd, she resented that respect from him, when she would have resented lack of it even more. "Certainly," she snapped. "What is it you must tell me?" "When you're dressed, freshened up a bit," he answered, not evasively, but as if it could wait. * * * * * She started to insist, but he had already turned back to the nose window to study the starry sky and the huge misty green ball of Earth in front of them. Sam Eade, the radioman, was intently twisting the dials on his set with a puckered frown between his blond eyebrows. He was an entirely different type, tall, blond, but just as fatuously masculine, as arrogantly handsome. Probably neither one of them had an ounce of brains--handsome people so seldom needed to develop mental ability. Sam, too, turned his face farther away from her. Both backs told her plainly that she could dress, take care of her needs, with as much privacy as the lifeboat could allow anybody. Not that it would take her long. She'd worn coveralls since the catastrophe, saving the dress she'd had on for landing on Earth. They'd had to leave most of her luggage behind. The lieutenant had insisted on taking up most of the spare space in the lifeboat with that dismantled space warper from the wreck of their ship. She combed her short graying hair back of her ears, and used a little water sparingly to brush her teeth. Perhaps it had been a quixotic thing, her giving up a secure teaching post on Earth to go out to Procyon IV. Except that she'd dreamed about a new colony where the rising generation, under her influence, would value intellect--with the girls no different from the boys. Perhaps it had been even sillier to take a cabin on a freighter, the only passenger with a crew of four men. But men did not intimidate her, and on a regular passenger ship she'd have been bored stiff by having to associate with the women. Two of the men.... It wasn't quite clear to her, even yet, what had happened. They'd used the normal drive to get clear of regular solar shipping lanes. The warning bell had rung that they were about to warp into hyperspace, a mechanism which canceled out distance and made the trip in apparent time no more than an overnight jaunt to Mars. There was a grinding shudder--then a twisted ship which looked as if some giant had taken a wet rag and torqued it to squeeze out the water. Lt. Harper and Sam had got her out of her cabin, and finally into the lifeboat which was only partly crippled. The other two men of the crew.... She zipped up the front of her coveralls with a crisp gesture, as if to snap off the vision. She would show no weakness in front of these two men. She had no weakness to show! "All right, gentlemen," she said incisively to their backs. "Now. What is it I must be told?" * * * * * Lt. Harper pointed to the ball of Earth so close ahead. It was huge, almost filling the sky in front of them. The misty atmosphere blurred outlines slightly, but she could make out the Eastern halves of North and South America clearly. The Western portions were still in dim darkness. "See anything wrong, Miss Kitty?" the lieutenant asked quietly. She looked more closely, sensing a possible trap in his question, a revealment of her lack of knowledge. "I'm not an authority on celestial geography," she said cautiously, academically. "But obviously the maps I've seen were not accurate in showing the true continental proportions." She pointed to a small chart hanging on the side wall. "This map shows Florida, for example, a much longer peninsula than it actually is. A number of things like that. I don't see anything else wrong, but, of course, it's not my field of knowledge." Lt. Harper looked at her approvingly, the kind of look she gave a bright pupil who'd been especially discerning. "Only it's not the map that's wrong, Miss Kitty," he said. "It is _my_ field of knowledge, and I've seen those continental outlines hundreds of times. They always corresponded to the map ... before." She looked at him without comprehension. "Not only that," Sam Eade entered the conversation. "As soon as we were clear of the wreck, Lt. Harper took a fix on stars and constellations. He's an astrogator. He knows his business. And they were wrong, too. Just a little wrong, here and there, but enough. And even more than that. On a tight beam, I should have been able to make a connection with Earth headquarters on this set. And I haven't yet got communication, and we know there's nothing wrong with this set." "Sam knows his business, too, Miss Kitty," Lt. Harper said. "If he can't get communication, it's because there isn't any." She looked wide-eyed from one to the other. For once, she was more concerned with a problem than with concealing her ignorance about it. "It means," the lieutenant said, as if he were answering a question she hadn't yet asked, "that the Earth we are returning to is not the Earth we left." "I don't understand," she gasped. "There's a theory," Lt. Harper answered slowly. "Heretofore it has been considered only a mathematical abstraction, and having no counterpart in reality. The theory of multiple dimensions." She looked at him closely, and in her habitual ambivalence of thought reflected that he sounded much more intelligent than she had suspected. "I've read about that," she answered. He looked relieved, and threw a quick look at Sam. Apparently he had underestimated her intelligence, too--in spite of all her degrees. * * * * * "We never thought it could be real," he emphasized. "But the theory was that multiple universes lay side by side, perhaps each an instant's time away from the other. The only thing I can see is that some flaw in the space warper threw us out of our dimension into another one closely adjacent--not far enough for things to be totally different, just different enough that the duplication isn't identical. It's Earth, but it's not our Earth. It's a New Earth, one we don't know anything about." "In another few hours, we'll be entering the atmosphere," Sam put in, "and we don't know what we'll find. We thought you ought to know." She flared in exasperation at the simple assumption of male arrogance. "Of course I should know!" she snapped back. "I am not one of your little bits of blonde, empty-headed fluff to be protected by strong males! I should have been told immediately!" Lt. Harper looked at Sam with a broad grin. It was amusement, but it was more--a confirmation that they could depend on her to take it in her stride--an approval. Apparently, they had discussed more things about her than she'd overheard, while she slept. He didn't turn off the grin when he looked directly at her. "What could you have done about it, if we had told you, Miss Kitty?" he asked mildly. * * * * * It was not the same Earth. The charts and maps had not been wrong. Her tentative theory that perhaps there were vision flaws in the plastic nose window which had not stood up. The continents, the lakes, the rivers--the topography really was distorted. Now there was the Mississippi River, one spot swinging rather too widely to the East. The Great Lakes were one huge inland sea. The Gulf of Mexico swung high up into what had once been Alabama and Georgia. There was no New Orleans, shipping center of the world, headquarters of Space. There were no cities anywhere up and down the Mississippi. Where St. Louis should have been, there was virgin forest. As they dropped down into the upper reaches of atmosphere, experiencing the familiar and sometimes nauseating reference shift from ahead to below, there had been no New York to the East, no San Francisco to the West. There had been no Boulder Dam, no Tennessee Valley project, no continuous hydroelectric installations running the entire length of the Mississippi, where the strength of the Father of the Waters had finally been harnessed for Man. There were no thin lines of highways, no paint-brush strokes of smoke against the canvas of the Gulf of Mexico to denote steamers, for atomic power was still not available to all. On this New Earth, Man could not yet have reached a state of complex technology. And as they dropped lower still, through their telescope sights, they saw no canoes on the river or the feeder streams. They saw no huts along the river shore, no thin streamers of wood smoke from huts hidden under the trees along the bayous. New Earth was purple and blue, then shading into green as they dropped lower. They sighted a deer drinking at the edge of a pool. But there was no trace of Man. "If there are no scars, no defacements upon this forest primeval," Miss Kitty said didactically, "then Man has not evolved on New Earth." Since it was spoken in the tone of an axiom, and there was no evidence to refute it, neither of the two men felt like arguing the matter. * * * * * They were low enough now that they were flying horizontally rather than dropping vertically. They were still searching for traces of some kind of artifacts. They were also searching, Lt. Harper advised them at last, for a suitable place to land. They wanted a higher ground than the delta country so they might be free of insect pests, assuming there were some since deer could be seen throwing their heads back along their sides as if to chase away flies. They wanted higher ground with a stream of water going over falls to supplement their limited power in the lifeship. On the chance there were fish, it would be nice to be handy to a lake. A forest for game. A level ground for a permanent camp. Since they were here, and it might be some time before they could figure out a way to return to Old Earth, they may as well make the best of it. They found the kind of place they wanted, a little to the west of the Mississippi. They grounded the lifeship at the edge of a natural clearing beside a lake where a stream of sparkling water dropped from a rock ledge. They settled the ship on the springy turf, then sat and looked at one another as if they were suddenly all strangers. Wordlessly, Lt. Harper got up and opened the door of the lifeship. He threw down the hinged metal steps. He stood back. Miss Kitty went through the door first and down the steps. The two men followed. They stood on the ground of New Earth, and looked at one another the way they had in the ship. In the minds of each there was the thought that some kind of a ceremonial speech should be made, but no one volunteered it. "I suppose we should have a campfire," Miss Kitty said doubtfully. They did not realize it at the time, but it was the most effective speech which could have been devised. It was a symbol. Man had discovered and taken possession of New Earth. His instinctive thought was to place his brand upon it, an artificial fire. All of them missed the significance of the fact that it was Miss Kitty who had made the first move in the domestication of this New Earth. * * * * * In the weeks which followed, Miss Kitty began to be dimly aware of the significance. At first they had lived a sort of Robinson Crusoe kind of life, leaning pretty heavily upon the stores of the liferaft. It had been she who had converted it over into more of the Swiss Family Robinson pattern of making use of the resources about them. The resources were abundant, bountiful. Yet the two men seemed little interested, and appeared content to live off the stores within the liferaft. They devoted almost all their time, except that little for bringing up firewood and trapping game, to fiddling with that gadget they called a warp motor. They were trying to hook it up to the radio sets, they said. Miss Kitty detested women who nagged at men, but she felt compelled to point out that this was the fall season upon New Earth, and winter would soon be upon them. It should not be a severe winter at this latitude, but they must be prepared for it with something more substantial than her uncomfortable sleeping place in the liferaft; nor would the two of them continue to enjoy sleeping out under the trees, if a blanket of snow fell some night. "I was hoping we could be back home before winter sets in, Miss Kitty," Lt. Harper apologized mildly. She had not nagged them. She had simply shut her lips and walked away. The next day they began cutting logs. It was odd, the basic pleasure she felt in seeing the sides of the cabin start to take form. Certainly she was not domestic by nature. And this could, in no sense, be considered a home. Still, she felt it might have gone up faster, if the men had used their muscles--their brute strength--rather than spend so much futile time trying to devise power tools. They were also inclined to talk too much about warping radio wave bands through cross sections of sinowaves, and to drop their work on the cabin in favor of spending long hours trying new hookups. But Miss Kitty never nagged about it. She had even tried to follow some of the theory, to share in their efforts to put such theory into practice, to be just a third fellow. Instead she found her thoughts wandering to how an oven could be constructed so she could bake and roast meats instead of broiling and frying them over an open fire. Game was plentiful, fish seemed to be begging for the hook. Every day, without going too far away from camp, she found new foods; watercress, mustard greens, wild turnips, wild onions, occasionally a turkey nest with eggs still edible, hollow trees where wild bees had stored honey, persimmons still astringent, but promising incredibly sweet and delicious flavor when frost struck them, chinquapin, a kind of chestnut, black walnuts. There was no end to what the country provided. Yet the men, instead of laying in winter stores, spent their time with the warp motor. * * * * * Without meaning to, Miss Kitty interrupted an explanation of Lt. Harper's on how they were calibrating the torquing degrees. She told him that he and Sam simply must help her harvest a hillside patch of wild maise she had found, before the rains came and ruined all the grain with mold, or the migrating birds ate it all. The cabin they were erecting would contain only two rooms--a large general room for cooking, eating, visiting, such as an old-fashioned farm kitchen had once been. A little room, opening off it, would be her sleeping room. She raised her eyebrows questioningly, and Sam explained they would build a small, separate bunkhouse for himself and Lt. Harper. She had a curious sense of displeasure at the arrangement. She knew she should be pleased at their understanding of the need for privacy. There was no point in becoming primitive savages. She should be grateful that they shared her determination to preserve the civilized codes. She told herself, rather severely, that the preservation of civilized mores was extremely important. And she brought herself up short with a shocking question, equal to a slap in the face. _Why?_ She realized then she had intuitively known from the first that they would never get back to Old Earth. Her instincts had been functioning, insuring their lives, where intellect had failed them completely. She tried to laugh scornfully at herself, in feminist tradition. Imagine! Katheryn Kittredge, Career Woman, devoted to the intellectual advancement of Man, thinking that mere cooking and cleaning and mending was the supremely important thing. But she failed in her efforts to deride herself. The intellectual discussions among the small groups of intelligent girls back on Old Earth were far away and meaningless. She discovered she was a little proud and strangely contented that she could prepare edible food. Certainly the two men were not talented; and someone had to accept the responsibility for a halfway decent domestic standard and comfort. As, for example, with the walls of the cabin halfway up, it was necessary to point out that while they may be going to put the little cookstove--welded together out of metal scrap--in the cabin, there was no provision for a fireplace. How would they keep warm through the long winter months this year, and in the years to come? Lt. Harper had started to say something. Then he shrugged and a hopeless look came over his face. "Perhaps you are right, Miss Kitty," he said humbly. "It may be spring, at that, before we can finish trying the more obvious combinations. We're trying to...." He broke off, turned away, and began to mark off the spot where they would saw down through the logs to fit in a fireplace. * * * * * Later that day, she overheard him tell Sam that, theoretically at least, there could be millions of versions of the Earth, each removed an infinitesimal point from the next. There was the chance the flaw in the torque motor, which still eluded him, might not automatically take them back to the right cross-section, even if he found it. They might have to make an incredible number of trials, and then again they might hit it on the very next combination. "And you might not!" she cut into the conversation, with perhaps more acid in her voice than she intended. "It might not be your next, nor tomorrow, nor next spring--nor ever!" Odd that she had felt an obscure satisfaction at the stricken looks on their faces when she had said it. Yet they had it coming to them. It was time someone shocked them into a sense of reality. It took a woman to be a realist. She had already faced the possibility and was reconciled to it. They were still living in an impossible dream. Still she was sorry. She was sorry in the way she had always regretted having to make a bad boy in kindergarten go stand with his face to the wall. She tried to make up for it that evening. [Illustration] "I understand," she said as they sat near the campfire outside the half-finished cabin. "You alter the torque, then try the various radio wave bands in the new position." They both looked at her, a little surprised. "It must be a slow and tedious procedure," she continued. "Very," Sam said with a groan. A shifting air current, carrying the sound of the waterfall, gave her an idea. "Too bad you can't borrow the practice of Tibetan monks," she mused. "They tie their prayers to a wheel, set it in a running stream. Every turn of the wheel is a prayer sent up to their gods. That way they can get their praying done for them while they go about the more urgent matters of providing a living for themselves and their families." She hadn't meant it to be so pointed, implying that all they were doing was sending up futile prayers to unheeding gods, implying they should be giving more attention to setting in winter stores. But even so.... "Miss Kitty," Sam said in a kind of awe. "You are a wonderful woman!" In spite of her sudden flush of pleasure, she was irritated. As pointed as she had made it, he had missed it. [Illustration] He turned and began talking excitedly to Lt. Harper. Yes, of course, they could rig up an automatic method instead of doing it by hand. It could be done faster and more smoothly with electric motors, but the idea was the same. If Lt. Harper could rig a trip to kick the warp over another notch each time, they could run it night and day. Just let some kind of alarm bell start ringing, if they hit anything at the other end! The two of them jumped to their feet then, grabbed her arms, squeezed them, and rushed away to the little shed they'd constructed beside the lifeship to hold some of their scattered equipment. She felt vaguely regretful that she had mentioned it. * * * * * Still she gained a great deal. The men finished the cabin in a hurry after that, and they put up their own bunkhouse in less than a week. Both jobs were obviously not done by experts, and she had fussed at them, although not unkindly, because she had had to chink such wide cracks with a mixture of clay and dried grass. She moved into the larger cabin, discovered a dozen roof leaks during the first hard rain they'd had; got them patched, began molding clay into dishes and containers, started pressuring the boys to build her a ceramics kiln, began to think about how their clothes would eventually wear out and how she would have to find some way to weave cloth to replace them. Day by day she was less irritable, as the boys settled into a routine. "I do believe," she said to herself one day, "I would be disappointed if they found a way back!" She straightened up and almost spilled the container of wild rice she had been garnering from the swampy spot at the upper reaches of the lake. "Why! The very idea of saying such a thing, Katheryn Kittredge!" But her heart was not in the self chiding. But what reason, in heaven's name, would they have for staying here? Three people, marooned, growing old, dying one by one. There was no chance for Man's survival here. From the evidence about them, they had come to the conclusion that on this New Earth, in the tree of evolution, the bud to grow into a limb of primates had never formed. She turned and looked at the tall, straight pines ahead of her. She saw the deciduous hardwoods, now gold and red, to one side of her. Behind her the lake was teeming with fish. The spicy smell of fall was all around her, and a stray breeze brought a scent of grapes she had overlooked when she was gathering all she could find to make a wine to pleasantly surprise the boys. She thought of the flock of wild chickens which had learned to hang around the cabin for scraps of food, the grunting lazy pigs, grown quite tame, begging her to find their acorns for them, the nanny goat with two half-grown kids Lt. Harper had brought back from a solitary walk he had taken. New Earth was truly a paradise--and all to be wasted if there were not Man to appreciate it truly. A thought knocked at her mind, but she resolutely shut it out, refused it even silent verbalization. Yet, while she stooped over again and busied her hands with stripping the rice from the stalks without cutting them on the sharp dry leaves, she found herself thinking about Mendelian law. Line breeding from father to daughter, or brother to sister--in domestic animals, of course--was all right in fixing desirable traits, providing certain recessives in both the dam and the sire did not thus become dominant. "There, Katheryn Kittredge," she mumbled with satisfaction. "Assuming the responsibilities of domesticity has not made you forget what you learned." But the danger of fixing recessives into dominants through inbreeding was even less with half-brothers and sisters. Now daughters by one--er--sire could be bred to another sire to get only a quarter relationship to a similar cross from the other father--er--sire. She must work it out with a stylus in smooth clay. The boys had preempted every scrap of paper for their pointless calculations. But she could remember it, and it would be valuable in breeding up a desirable barnyard stock. Yet it was odd that she assumed two males and only one female! * * * * * Then and there, standing ankle deep in the bog of wild rice, muddy to her knees in her torn coveralls, slapping at persistent mosquitoes, she came to terms with herself. In the back of her mind she had known it all the time. All this was without meaning unless there was Man--and a continuity of Man. Even so little as this gathering of wild rice, before the migrating ducks got it, was without meaning, if it were merely to stave off death from a purposeless existence. If there were no other fate for them than eventually to die, without posterity, then they might as well die tomorrow, today, now. The men were still living in a dream of getting back. No doubt their lusting appetites were driving them to get back to their brazen, heavy-breasted, languorous-eyed hussies who pandered to all comers without shame! Miss Kitty was astonished at her sudden vehemence, the red wave of fury which swept over her. But of course she was right. That was their urgent drive. "A male human is nothing more than a sex machine!" Wasn't that what her roommate at college had once said? Or was it her maiden aunt who had dominated her widowed mother and herself through all the years she was growing up? What did it matter who said it? She knew it was true. No wonder they were so anxious to get back to Old Earth! Her lip lifted in cynical scorn. "You don't dare leave a young girl alone with a boy for five minutes," her aunt had once complained bitterly. "All they ever think about is...." her voice had dropped to a whisper and she had given that significant look to Katheryn's mother. But Katheryn had known what she meant, of course. And it was true of all men. Women, back on Old Earth, had looked at her with pity and a little contempt, because she had never, she had never.... But you didn't have to have first hand experience to know. She had authoritative knowledge gleaned from reading between the lines of the very best text books on abnormal psychology. She hadn't had to read between the lines of sundry surveys and reports. And if there had been no organized study at all, the movies, the TV, the published better fiction--all of it centered around that one theme--that one, alone, romanticize it or obscure it though they might. It was all men ever thought about. And many women pandered to it--those sultry, shameless, undulating.... But Sam and Lt. Harper? It had been almost two months now since they had left Earth and those vile blondes. How had they restrained themselves during all this time! Her fuming anger was suddenly overwhelmed by a warm rush of gratitude, a sympathy which brought a gush of tears into her eyes to stream down her cheeks. How blind she had been. Of course! They were still bound by their gentleman's Word of Honor, given to her on that first night in the lifeship. What splendid men! All right, so they had their faults; a little impractical, dreamers all, but with such nobility of character, truly they were fit to be the fathers of a proud and noble race. And, in time, with herself to shape and guide them.... She straightened her aching back from bending over the rice reeds, thrust out her scrawny chest, and breathed deeply. She lifted her chin resolutely. "Katheryn Kittredge," she said firmly. "A woman's place is more than merely cooking and cleaning and mending!" * * * * * Supper, that evening, was a dinner, a special dinner. She set before the two men a whole roast young tom turkey, with a touch of frosted persimmons mixed with wild honey to enliven the light meat. There was a dressing of boiled maise and wild rice, seasoned with wild onion and thyme. There were little red tomatoes, tough but tasty. There were baked yams. There was a custard of goat milk and turkey eggs sweetened with honey. Instead of the usual sassafras tea to which their digestion had finally adjusted, there was grape wine in their cups. It wasn't a very good wine, still green and sharp, but the occasion called for it. Both of them looked at her with wonder, when they came in at her call and saw the table. But they didn't ask any questions. They just started eating and, for once, they forgot to talk about warp theory. She, herself, ate little. She was content to look at them. The lieutenant, tall and strong, big-boned, dark-complexioned, square-faced, white even teeth. Sam, smalled-boned, fair-complexioned, hair bleached straw from the outdoor sun. He had been inclined to be a little stout when she first saw him, but now he had that muscular wiriness which comes with hard physical work--and clean living. His daughters would be delicate, lovely, yet strong. The lieutenant's sons.... She watched, in a kind of rapture, the ripple of muscles beneath their shirts, the way the pillar of the neck arose from strong shoulders to support a well-shaped head, the way the muscles of jaws rippled under their lean cheeks as they chewed. The way their intelligent eyes flashed appreciation at each savory mouthful. "It occurs to me, Sam," Lt. Harper said as he washed down some turkey with a healthy quaff of wine. "We could give a little more attention to scraping up food for Miss Kitty to cook. Now you take this brown rice, for example, we could rig up a polishing mill so she'd have white rice...." "Nonsense," Miss Kitty said firmly. "All the proper food value lies in the brown covering. I will not have the children's eating habits spoiled from the beginning...." Appalled, she realized what she had said. Both men stopped chewing and stared at her. "What children, Miss Kitty?" Lt. Harper asked, and he was looking at her intently. She dropped her eyes to her plate. She felt the red flush arising around her neck, up into her face. She couldn't face him. Yet, it had to be done. It must be made quite clear to him, both of them, that.... "_Our_ children," she said distinctly, and felt their eyes boring into the top of her head. "And I wish you both would stop calling me Miss Kitty, as if--as if you were kindergarten children and I was the old maid school teacher! All three of us are adults, men and a woman. In spite of what you may think, I am not a great deal older than either of you. There will be children! If it works out the way I plan, I believe I do have time for at least six sons and daughters before I reach ... before my barren years." She heard Sam's fork clatter down on the table top as he dropped it. She heard Lt. Harper's feet scrape, as if he had been about to leap to his feet. Without seeing it, she almost felt them look at one another. Well, she had made it plain enough. But they didn't say anything. Suddenly she could stand it no longer. Slowly, in dignity, she arose to her feet and without looking at them she walked, head down, to her door. Then she realized she had perhaps been too crisp, too businesslike about it all. A vision of the kind of women they must have known, the kind which would arouse their passion, the kind which would make it all unmistakable.... She had a flashing memory of a girl back in college, one smitten with a football hero, trying to captivate the hero, draw him to her. On impulse, Miss Kitty imitated that girl now, and a little tableau she remembered. At her doorway she turned, and looked at them over her shoulder. She lifted her shoulder so that it touched her chin. She drooped her eyes half shut. "My name is Katheryn," she said, and she tried to make her voice husky instead of tremulous and frightened. "Call me Kathy, call me Kate, call me Kay." Both men were staring at her with wide eyes and open mouths as she closed her door. She made sure there was no sound of a latch turning to discourage them. * * * * * She undressed herself slowly, and, for the first time other than for bathing, completely. She felt grateful for the time they were giving her. No doubt they were talking it over, man to man, in the way of civilized, educated.... She crawled in between the blankets, fresh and smelling of sunshine from being washed in the clear water of the lake. She was a little regretful she had no perfume; that was something they didn't put into lifeboats. She waited. She heard the low rumble of male voices in the other room. They were undoubtedly discussing it. She felt grateful relief that their voices had not risen. They were not quarreling over her--not yet. She did hope they would continue to be sensible. She heard one of the stools scrape on the rough split log floor. She caught her breath in a gasp, found her hands were clutching the covers and pulling them tightly up to her chin. She willed her hands to relax. She willed the tenseness out of her rigid body. She heard the other stool scrape. Surely they were not both.... She heard their feet walking across the floor, the heavy steps of the lieutenant, the lighter, springier steps of Sam. She gritted her teeth and clenched her eyes tight shut. And then she heard the outer door close softly. Which one? Which had remained behind? She waited. Then she heard footsteps outside. She tried to identify, by sound, which man was making the noise, but the shuffling of leaves was confusing, as if more than one person were walking outside. And where was the other man? Why had he made no sound in the outer room? Was he quietly drinking up the wine--first? Then, distinctly, she recognized two pairs of feet outside, going farther away, in the direction of the men's bunkhouse. She could not bear the suspense. She sprang out of bed clutching one of the blankets about her. Slowly, soundlessly, she opened her door a crack. She could see no one in the flickering firelight of the room. They had turned out the lights. Or--he had. She opened the door wide. It had been they, not he. Both men had gone. * * * * * Inadvertently something between a sob and a hiccough rattled her throat. She choked back another. She would not give way to ... rage? ... frustration? ... relief? ... _fear?_ Fear! She had seen the movies, she had read the stories, she had overheard boys. "I'll fix you when we get outside! You meet me in the alley and I'll show you!" These two men. Were they going off into the darkness to settle a conflict which they had not been able to resolve through sensible agreement? There, under the trees in the moonlight, would they, denying all the progress of the sacred centuries, would they revert to the primitive, the savage; and like two rutting male animals rend and tear and battle with one another for the only female? Oh, no! No, they must not! There was no doubt that the lieutenant with his great, massive strength.... But the human race of New Earth must have the fine sensitivity, the lithe grace of Sam's kind, also! She tugged the blanket around her shoulders and ran toward the door. She must reach them, step in between them, even at the cost of receiving some of the blows upon herself, make them realize.... She felt herself shivering as she opened the door, shivering as if with an ague. She felt her face burning, as if with a fever. Her teeth were chattering in anguish. She tried to still the noise of her teeth, to listen for those horrible sounds of silent men in a death conflict somewhere out there in the moonlight. Then she saw a chink of light through a crack in the wall of the bunkhouse, where the clay had dried and fallen away from the logs. In there? What were they doing in there? Instead of their fists and crushing arms, were they stalking one another with knives? She remembered scenes from Western movies, the overturned tables, the crash of things thrown. Had some sense of chivalry still remained in the lieutenant, and he, knowing Sam wouldn't stand a chance in hand to hand conflict, devised some contest which would be more fair? There need be no contest. If only they would be sensible, work out an equitable schedule.... Barefooted, she ran across the ground toward the bunkhouse. She had visions of herself throwing open the door, shocking them to stillness in a tableau of violence. She was close now. She should be able to hear the crashing of their table and chairs. She could hear nothing at all. Was she too late? Even now, was one of them standing above the other, holding a dripping knife? What horrors might she run into, even precipitate, if she threw open the door? Caution, Katheryn! Instead, she crept up to the crack in the wall. Her teeth were chattering so hard, she had difficulty in holding her head still enough to peer through the slit of light. With her free hand, her shoulders were shaking so hard she had difficulty in clutching the blanket about her with the other, she grabbed her jaw and held on, to still her shaking. Her eyes focused on the scene inside the room. * * * * * She had a three-quarter vision of each man and the table between them. They were dealing a greasy pack of cards! Were they going to gamble for her? Relief and shame intermingled in her reaction. She would have preferred they settle it with more elemental.... It would have made it less.... Yet, this way neither would be killed. Sons and daughters from both.... "How are we going to tell her now?" Sam asked, as he picked up his cards. His voice came distinctly through the wall crack. "We should have told her about our wives and families right at the start," Harper answered morosely. "I don't know why we didn't. Except that, well, none of us have talked about things back home. She didn't, and so we didn't either." "But I never dreamed Miss Kitty would start getting ideas," Sam said in a heartsick voice. "I just never dreamed she...." "We're going to have to tell her," Harper said resolutely. "We'll just have to tell her that, well, there's still hope and as long as there's hope...." Blindly, in an anguish of shame such as she had never known, Miss Kitty crept away from the bunkhouse, and stumbled back to the cabin. Now she was shivering so violently she could hardly walk. The exposure to the night air, the nervous tension, overwrought emotions.... She could not remember getting back into the cabin, crawling into bed. She knew only that a little later she was in bed, still shaking violently with a chill, burning with fever. She was awakened in the morning with the sound of the axe chopping on wood. She dragged herself out of bed, forlorn, sick, filled with shame. Her head spun so wildly that she sank to her knees and lay it on the bed. Then her pride and her will forced her to her feet, and she drove herself to dress, to go into the big room, dig out glowing coals from beneath ashes, put them in the little cook stove, pile fine slivers of resin-rich kindling on top of them, blow on them. Between painful breaths, she heard herself sobbing. Her teeth started chattering again, and there was a ringing in her ears. She heard the blows of the axe falling on the wood, and each blow transferred itself to the base of her skull. The ringing in her ears grew louder and louder. She heard one of the men shout. It sounded like Sam. Had he hurt himself with the axe, gashed his leg or something? She'd always been afraid of that axe! She'd told them and told them to be careful! She pulled herself up from her knees there at the stove where she had been blowing on the coals. She must get out there, help him! That terrible buzzing in her head, that ringing in her ears. No matter, she must get out there to help him. [Illustration] She threw open the door and saw Sam running toward the lifeship. Had he lost his mind? The bandages were here. She had them here! She saw Lt. Harper come to the door of the bunkhouse. He was still pulling on his pants. He started running toward the lifeship, too, cinching his belt as he ran. Then she realized that at least part of the ringing in her ears came from the lifeship. At first it had no meaning for her, then she remembered them talking about fixing up some kind of alarm, so that if they got a signal through.... She started running toward the lifeship. She stumbled, fell, got up, felt as light as a feather, as heavy as mercury. She crawled up the steps of the lifeship, she clutched at the door. She heard Sam speaking very slowly, carefully. "Do you read me? _Is this Earth?_" She saw his face. She knew the answer. And that was the last she knew. * * * * * Consciousness came back in little dribbles like a montage--half reality and half nightmare of the insomniac. Lt. Harper's voice shouting at her with a roar like a waterfall, "My God, Miss Kitty, are you sick?" Blackness. More shouting, Sam calling the lieutenant, something about a red flare in the sky. A lucid moment, when Sam was explaining to her that Earth had been given the warp coordinates, and had sent a red flare to see if they could get through. Then another gap. A heavy trampling of feet, a great many feet. Some kind of memory of a woman in white, sticking a thermometer in her mouth. The prick of a needle in her arm. The sense of being carried. A memory of knowing she was in a ship. A flash that was more felt than seen. Nightmares! All nightmares! She would wake up in a moment. She would get up, dress, go out and start a fire to heat water on the cookstove. She had planned to have coffee, a special treat from their almost exhausted store. She would have coffee. The men would come in sheepish, evading her glance. Very well, she would simply tell them that she had misunderstood, save them the embarrassment of telling her. She would not be the woman scorned. She moved her hands to throw back her blankets, and froze. Her fingers had not touched blankets, they had touched cool, slick sheets! Her eyes popped open. It had not been a nightmare, a wish fulfillment of escape. She was in a hospital room. A nurse was standing beside her bed, looking down at her. A comfortably motherly-looking sort of woman was speaking to her. "Well, now, Miss Kittredge, that's much better!" the woman said. "So you will go gather wild rice in the swamp and get your bloodstream full of bugs!" But it was a professional kind of chiding, the same way she had talked to her kindergarten children when they'd got themselves into trouble. "Still," the nurse chatted, "it's made our pathologists mighty happy. They've been having themselves a ball analyzing the bugs you three managed to pick up. You got something close to malaria. The two men, healthy oxen, didn't get anything at all. We had to let 'em out of quarantine in three days." * * * * * Miss Kitty just looked at her in a sort of unthinking lassitude. She was still trying to make the reality seem real. The nurse helped a little. She turned to her cart and produced a white enamel, flat container. She slid it under the top sheet. "Upsy-daisy now, Miss Kittredge," she said firmly. "It's time you started cooperating a little." Yes, that brought her back to reality. But she still didn't say anything. "Although we might as well not have let 'em out of quarantine," the nurse grumbled. "They've just been living out there in the waiting room for a solid week, buttonholing everybody from doctors down to orderlies asking about you." She gave a soft wolf whistle. "Whew, imagine having not just one guy but two of 'em, absolutely crazy about you. Just begging to see you, hold your hand a little. Two beautiful men like that! You ready to see them soon?" Miss Kitty felt a rush of shame again. In the cabin she would have been forced to face them, but not now. "No," she said firmly. "I _never_ want to see them again." "Well, now, let me tell you something, Miss Kittredge," the nurse said, and this time there was a note of seriousness. "One of the symptoms of this sickness you picked up is that it makes you talk. Gal, you have talked a blue streak for the last week. We know everything, everything that happened, everything you thought about. The doctor understood how you might feel about things. So he told the lieutenant and Mr. Eade that you had got bitten about the time you were up in the rice swamp, and that you hadn't been responsible for anything you'd said for the last three days back there on New Earth." Miss Kitty felt a flood of relief. "Did they believe the doctor?" she asked hesitantly. "Sure they believed him," the nurse answered. "Sure they did. But you wanna know something? I've talked to those two men. And I've just got myself an idea that it wouldn't have made a particle of difference in the way they feel about you even if they didn't believe it. You're tops with those two guys, lady. Absolutely tip-top tops. The way you pitched in there, carried your share of things...." She slipped the pan out from under the sheets, and put it into a compartment of the cart. "You wanna know something else? I don't think you were out of your head at all when you propositioned those two guys. I think you were showing some good female sense, maybe for the first time in your life. And I think they know you were. "You think it over, Miss Kittredge. If I know you--and I ought to after listening to you rave day after day--you've got what it takes. You want my advice? You go right on being a normal female. Don't you be silly enough to get back into that warped, twisted, frustrated kind of a man-hater you always thought you were. "I gotta go now. You think it over. But not too long. Those two guys are going to be mighty, mighty hurt if they find out you're conscious and won't see them." She went out the door, pushing her cart in front of her. * * * * * Miss Kitty relaxed her neck, willed the tenseness out of her body, and just lay for a while thinking of nothing. A gust, a rattle of raindrops, called her attention to the window. They had put her on the ground floor. She was able to see through the window to the street outside. The rain was pelting down, like that first rain they'd had there on New Earth. How chagrined the boys had looked when the roof started leaking in a dozen places! She felt a warm sense of relief, of gratitude, that she could remember them without shame. The nurse had been right, of course. Probably the doctors had planted that particular nurse in her room, anticipating her return to consciousness, anticipating the necessity for a little mental therapy. _Good female sense._ With such a semantic difference from good male sense! The mind of a man and a woman was not the same. She knew that now. And she realized that deeply, hidden from her own admittance, she had always known it. And the nurse's good earthy expression--"propositioning those two guys"--approval that it had been natural and right. And another expression, "the way you pitched in there, carried your share of things." Carried your share of things! That meant more than just cooking, mending, cleaning. More than just seeing that the race continued, too; although it somehow tied in with all these things. She lay in her bed, watching the rain through the window, getting comfort from the soft, drumming sound. Along the street she could see people sloshing through the film of water underfoot. She watched the scene of turned-up collars, pulled-down hatbrims, bobbing umbrellas, as if it were something apart from her, and yet a part of her. She began to get a sense of rare vision, an understanding which she knew was more complete than any intellectual abstraction she had ever managed. She began to get a woman's sense of purpose, completely distinct from that of a man. * * * * * She recalled once reading of an incident where an Oklahoma oil millionaire had built a huge mansion; then, because his squaw did not know how to make a home within it, they pitched their tepee in the front grounds, to live there, unable to feel at home in anything else. Yes, too often the mansions of science came in for a similar treatment. The vast rooms of ideas, the great halls of expansion, the limitless ceilings of challenge, the wide expanses of speculation; all these things which would exalt Man into a truly great existence were denied, put to no use beyond mere gadgetry. And the mass of human beings still huddled in their cramped and grimy little tepees of ancient syndromes, only there feeling at home. It was the fault of the women. They had not kept up with the men. Those who attempted it tried to be men, to prove themselves as good a man as any man, the way she had done. They had missed the real point entirely, every single bit of it. The male was still functioning in the way males always had. There was no essential difference between the cave man who climbed a new mountain and explored a new valley and brought back a speared deer to throw down at the entrance of his home cave; no difference between him and the modern explorer of science who, under similar hardships, brought back a bright and rich new knowledge. But the ancient cave woman had not failed. She had known what to do with the deer to strengthen and secure the future of the race. And what about New Earth? Lt. Harper and Sam had talked about the possibility of millions of Earths, each infinitesimally removed from the other, and if they could bridge the gap to one, they might bridge it to an uncountable number. Perhaps there were millions of others, but for her there was only one New Earth. Would the processions of colonists going there spoil it? Would the women going there see in it a great mansion? Or, instead, would they simply go there to escape here--escape from exhaustion, failure, anguish, bitterness--and, as always, take these things along with them? Would they still live in grimy little syndromes of endless antagonism, bickering in their foolish frustrations, because they had no wisdom about what to do with this newly speared deer? _Oh, not on New Earth!_ Suddenly Miss Kitty knew what she must do. If that one particular mansion needed someone to make it into a home, why not herself? And who had a better right? Somewhere, there, perhaps that very one striding along under the eaves of that building across the street, with his hatbrim pulled down, leaning against the rain, somewhere, close, there must be a man who could share her resolution and her dream. A man of the same breed as the lieutenant and Sam, a man who carried his head high, his shoulders back, who had keen, intelligent eyes, and laughter. Yes, now she wanted to see the two men after all, and meet their lucky wives, and see their children, the kind of children she might have had. Might _yet_ have! At a flash of memory, she smiled a little ruefully, and yet with an inner peace. "I am not so old," she repeated in a whisper. "I still have time for at least a half dozen sons and daughters before--before my barren years." 
14172	----	[Illustration] WILLIS THE PILOT, A Sequel to the Swiss Family Robinson: OR, ADVENTURES OF AN EMIGRANT FAMILY WRECKED ON AN UNKNOWN COAST OF THE PACIFIC OCEAN. INTERSPERSED WITH TALES, INCIDENTS OF TRAVEL, AND ILLUSTRATIONS OF NATURAL HISTORY. BOSTON: LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS. NEW YORK: LEE, SHEPARD AND DILLINGHAM. 1875. LITHOTYPED BY COWLES AND COMPANY At the Office of the American Stereotype Company, PHOENIX BUILDING, BOSTON. ILLUSTRATED BY KILBURN & MALLORY PREFACE. The love of adventure that characterises the youth of the present day, and the growing tendency of the surplus European population to seek abroad the comforts that are often denied at home, gives absorbing interest to the narratives of old colonists and settlers in the wonderful regions of the New World. Accordingly, the work known as the _Swiss Family Robinson_ has long enjoyed a well-merited popularity, and has been perused by a multitude of readers, young and old, with profit as well as pleasure. A Swiss clergyman resolved to better his fortune by emigration. In furtherance of this resolution, he embarked with his wife and four sons--the latter ranging from eight to fifteen years of age--for one of the newly-discovered islands in the Pacific Ocean. As far as the coast of New Guinea the voyage had been favorable, but here a violent storm arose, which drove the ill-fated vessel out of its course, and finally cast it a wreck upon an unknown coast. The family succeeded in extricating themselves from the stranded ship, and landed safely on shore; but the remaining passengers and crew all perished. For many years these six individuals struggled alone against a variety of trials and privations, till at length another storm brought the English despatch-boat _Nelson_ within reach of their signals. Such is a brief outline of the events recorded in the _Swiss Family Robinson_. The present volume is virtually a continuation of this narrative. The careers of the four sons--Frank, Ernest, Fritz, and Jack--are taken up where the preceding chronicler left them off. The subsequent adventures of these four young men, by flood and field, are faithfully detailed. With these particulars are mingled the experiences of another interesting family that afterwards became dwellers in the same territory; as are also the sayings and doings of a weather-beaten sailor--Willis the Pilot. The scene is laid chiefly in the South Seas, and the narrative illustrates the geography and ethnology of that section of the Far-West. The difficulties, dangers, and hardships to be encountered in founding a new colony are truthfully set forth, whilst it is shown how readily these are overcome by perseverance and intelligent labor. It will be seen that a liberal education has its uses, even under circumstances the least likely to foster the social amenities, and that, too, not only as regards the mental well-being of its possessors, but also as regards augmenting their material comforts. In the _Swiss Family Robinson_ the resources of Natural History have been largely, and perhaps somewhat freely, drawn upon. This branch of knowledge has, therefore, been left throughout the present volume comparatively untouched. Nevertheless, as it is the aim of the narrator to combine instruction with amusement, the more elementary phenomena of the Physical Sciences have been blended with the current of the story--thus garnishing, as it were, the dry, hard facts of Owen, Liebig, and Arago, with the more attractive, groupings of life and action. The reader has, consequently, in hand a _mélange_ of the useful and agreeable--a little for the grave and a little for the gay--so that, should our endeavors to impart instruction prove unavailing, _en revanche_ we may, perhaps, be more successful in our efforts to amuse. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. The Colony--Reflections on the Past--Ideas of Willis the Pilot--Sophia Wolston CHAPTER II. To what extent Willis the Pilot had Ideas on certain Subjects--The Knights of the Ocean CHAPTER III. Wherein Willis the Pilot proves "Irrefragably" that Ephemerides die of Consumption and Home-Sickness--The Canoe and its Young ones--The Search after the Sloop--Found--The Sword-Fish--Floating Atoms--Admiral Socrates CHAPTER IV. A Landscape--Sad Houses and Smiling Houses--Politeness in China--Eight Soups at Dessert--Wind Merchants--Another Idea of the Pilot's--Susan, vice Sophia CHAPTER V. Allotment of Quarters--A Horse Marine--Travelling Plants--Change of Dynasty in England--A Woman's Kingdom--Sheep converted into Chops--Resurrection of the Fried Fish--A Secret CHAPTER VI. The Queen's Doll--Rockhouse to Falcon's Nest--The Wind--Grasses--Admiral Homer--The Three Frogs--Oat Jelly--Esquimaux Astronomy--An Unknown CHAPTER VII. The Search for the Unknown--Three Fleets on Dry Land--The Indiscretions of a Sugar Cane--Larboard and Starboard--The supposed Sensibility of Plants--The Fly-trap--Vendetta--Root and Germ--Mine and Countermine--The Polypi--Oviparous and Viviparous--A Quid pro Quo CHAPTER VIII. Inhabitant of the Moon, Anthropophagian or Hobgoblin?--The Lacedemonian Stew of Madame Dacier--Utile Dulci--Tête-à-tête between Willis and his Pipe--Tobacco versus Birch--Is it for Eating?--Mosquitoes--The Alarm--Toby--The Nocturnal Expedition--We've got him CHAPTER IX. The Chimpanzee--Imperfect Negro, or Perfect Ape--The Harmonies of Nature--A Handful of Paws--A Stone Skin--Seventeen Spectacles on one Nose--Animalculæ--Pelion on Ossa--Ptolemy--Copernicus to Galileo--Metaphysics and Cosmogonies--A live Tiger CHAPTER X. The Pioneers--Excursion to Coromandel--Hindoo Fancies--A Caged Hunter--Louis XI and Cardinal Balue--A Furlong of News--Carnage--The Baronet and his seventeen Tigers--Fifty-four feet of Celebrity--Sterne's Window--Promenade of the Consciences--Emulation and Vanity CHAPTER XI. On the Watch--Fecundity of Plants and Animals--Latest News from the Moon--A Death-Knell every Second--The Inconveniences of being too near the Sun--Narcotics--Willis contralto--Hunting turned upside down--Electric Clouds--Partialities of Lightning--Bells and Bellringers--Conducting Rods--The Return--The Two Sisters--Toby becomes a Dragoman CHAPTER XII. Man proposes, but God disposes--The Choice of a Profession--Conqueror--Orator--Astronomer--Composer--Painter--Poet--Village Curate--The Kafirs--Occupations of Women--The Alpha and Omega of the Sea CHAPTER XIII. Herbert and Cecilia--The little Angels--A Catastrophe--The Departure--Marriage of the Doge with the Adriatic--Sovereigns of the Sea--Dante and Beatrix--Eleonora and Tasso--Laura and Petrarch--The Return--Surprises--What one finds in Turbots--A Horror--The Price of Crime--Ballooning--Philipson and the Cholera--A Metamorphosis--Adventure of the Chimpanzee--Are you Rich? CHAPTER XIV. The Tears of Childhood and Rain of the Tropics--Charles' Wain--Voluntary Enlistment--A Likeness Guaranteed--The World at Peace--Alas, poor Mary!--The same Breath for two Beings--The first Pillow--The Logic of the Heart--How Fritz supported Grief--A Grain of Sand and the Himalaya CHAPTER XV. God's Government--King Stanislaus--The Dauphin son of Louis XV.--The shortest Road--New Year's Day--A Miracle--Clever Animals--The Calendar--Mr. Julius Cæsar and Pope Gregory XIII.--How the day after the 4th of October was the 15th--Olympiads--Lustres--The Hegira--A Horse made Consul--Jack's Dream CHAPTER XVI. Separation--Guelphs and Ghibelines--Montagues and Capulets--Sadness--The Reunion--Jocko and his Education--The Entertainments of a King--The Mules of Nero and the Asses of Poppæa--Hercules and Achilles--Liberty and Equality--Semiramis and Elizabeth--Christianity and the Religion of Zoroaster--The Willisonian Method--Moral Discipline versus Birch CHAPTER XVII. Where there's a Will there's a Way--Mucius Scævola--What's to be done?--Brutus Torquatus and Peter the Great--Australia, Botany Bay, and the Flying Dutchman--New Guinea and the Buccaneer--Vancouver's Island--White Skins--Danger of Landing on a Wave--Hanged or Drowned--Route to Happiness--Omens CHAPTER XVIII. Bacon and Biscuit--Let Sleeping Dogs Lie--The Paternal Benediction--An Apparition--A Mother not easily deceived--The Adieu--The Emperor Constantine--hoc signo vinces--The Sailor's Postscript--Cæsar and his Fortunes--Recollections--Mrs. Becker plucks Stockings and Knits Ortolans--How delightful it is to be Scolded--The Bodies vanish, but the Souls remain CHAPTER XIX. Eighteen Hundred and Twelve--The _Mary_--Count Ugolino--The Sources of Rivers--The Alps demolished--No more Pyrenees--The First Ship--Admiral Noah--Fleets of the Israelites--The Compass--Printing--Gunpowder--Actium and Salamis--Dido and Æolus--Steam--Don Garay and Roger Bacon--Melchthal, Furst, and William Tell--Going a-pleasuring--Upset versus blown up--A Dead Calm--The Log--Willis's Archipelago--The Island of Sophia--The Bread Fruit-tree--Natives of Polynesia--Striped Trowsers--Abduction of Willis--Is he to be Roasted or Boiled?--When the Wine is poured out, we must Drink it CHAPTER XX. Jupiter Tonans--The Thunders of the Pilot--Worshippers of the Far West--A late Breakfast--Rono the Great--A Polynesian Legend--Manners and Customs of Oceanica Mr. and Mrs. Tamaidi--Regal Pomp--Elbow Room--Katzenmusik--Queen Tonico and the Shaving Glass--Consequences of a Pinch of Snuff--Disgrace of the Great Rono--Marins--Coriolanus--Hannibal--Alcibiades--Cimon--Aristides--A Sop for the Thirsty--Air something else besides Oxygen and Hydrogen--Maryland and Whitechapel--Half-way up the Cordilleras--Human Machines--Star of the Sea, pray for us! CHAPTER XXI. Lying-to--Heart and Instinct--Sparrows viewed as Consumers--Migrations--Posting a Letter in the Pacific--Cannibals--Adventures of a Locket CHAPTER XXII. The Utility of Adversity--An Encounter--The _Hoboken_--Bill alias Bob CHAPTER XXIII. In which Willis shows, that the term Press-gang means something else besides the Gentlemen of the Press CHAPTER XXIV. Another Idea of the Pilot's--The _Boudeuse_ CHAPTER XXV. Delhi--William of Normandy and King John--Isabella of Bavaria and Joan of Arc--Poitier and Bovines--History of a Ghost, a Gridiron, and a Chest of Guineas CHAPTER XXVI. Willis falls in with the Sloop on terra firma, instead of at the bottom of the Sea, as might have been expected--Admiral Cicero--The Defunct not yet Dead CHAPTER XXVII. Captain Littlestone is found, and the Rev. Mr. Wolston is seen for the first time CHAPTER XXVIII. Willis proves that the only way to be free is to get sent to Prison--An Escape--A Discovery--Promotions--Somnambulism Conclusion CHAPTER I. THE COLONY--REFLECTIONS ON THE PAST--IDEAS OF WILLIS THE PILOT--SOPHIA WOLSTON. The early adventures of the Swiss family, who were wrecked on an unknown coast in the Pacific Ocean, have already been given to the world. There are, however, many interesting details in their subsequent career which have not been made public. These, and the conversations with which they enlivened the long, dreary days of the rainy season, we are now about to lay before our readers. Becker, his wife, and their four sons had been fifteen years on this uninhabited coast, when a storm drove the English despatch sloop _Nelson_ to the same spot. Before this event occurred, the family had cleared and enclosed a large extent of country; but, whether the territory was part of an island or part of a continent, they had not yet ascertained. The land was naturally fertile; and, amongst other things that had been obtained from the wreck of their ship, were sundry packages of European seeds: the produce of these, together with that of two or three heads of cattle they had likewise rescued from the wreck, supplied them abundantly with the necessaries of life. They had erected dwellings here and there, but chiefly lived in a cave near the shore, over the entrance to which they had built a sort of gallery. This structure, conjointly with the cave, formed a commodious habitation, to which they had given the name of _Rockhouse_. In the vicinity, a stream flowed tranquilly into the sea; this stream they were accustomed to call _Jackal River_, because, a few days after their landing, they had encountered some of these animals on its banks. Fronting Rockhouse the coast curved inwards, the headlands on either side enclosing a portion of the ocean; to this inlet they had given the name of _Safety Bay_, because it was here they first felt themselves secure after having escaped the dangers of the storm. In the centre of the bay there was a small island which they called _Shark's Island_, to commemorate the capture of one of those monsters of the deep. Safely Bay, had, a second time, acquired a legitimate title to its name, for in it Providence had brought the _Nelson_ safely to anchor. By unwearying perseverance, indefatigable industry, and an untiring reliance on the goodness of God, Becker and his family had surrounded themselves with abundance. There was only one thing left for them to desire, and that was the means of communicating with their kindred; and now this one wish of their hearts was gratified by the unexpected appearance of the _Nelson_ on their shore. The fifteen years of exile they had so patiently endured was at once forgotten. Every bosom was filled with boundless joy; so true it is, that man only requires a ray of sunshine to change his most poignant griefs into smiles and gladness. The first impressions of their deliverance awakened in the minds of the young people a flood of projects. The mute whisperings that murmured within them had divulged to their understandings that they were created for a wider sphere than that in which they had hitherto been confined. Europe and its wonders--society, with its endearing interchanges of affection--that vast panorama of the arts and of civilization, of the trivial and the sublime, of the beautiful and terrible, that is called the world--came vividly into their thoughts. They felt as a man would feel when dazzled all at once by a spectacle, the splendor of which the eyes and the mind can only withstand by degrees. They had spelt life in the horn-book of true and simple nature--they were now about to read it fluently in the gilded volume of a nature false and vitiated, perhaps to regret their former tranquil ignorance. Becker himself had, for an instant, given way to the general enthusiasm, but reflection soon regained her sway; he asked himself whether he had solid reasons for wishing to return to Europe, whether it would be advisable to relinquish a certain livelihood, and abandon a spot that God appeared to bless beyond all others, to run after the doubtful advantages of civilized society. His wife desired nothing better than to end her days there, under the beautiful sky, where, from the bosom of the tempest, they had been guided by the merciful will of Him who is the source of all things. Still the solitude frightened her for her children. "Might it not," she asked herself, "be egotism to imprison their young lives in the narrow limits of maternal affection?" It occurred to her that the dangers to which they were constantly exposed might remove them from her; to-day this one, to-morrow another; what, then, would be her own desolation, when there remained to her no bosom on which to rest her head--no heart to beat in unison with her own--no kindly hand to grasp--and no friendly voice to pray at her pillow, when she was called away in her turn! At length, after mature deliberation, it was resolved that Becker himself, his wife, Fritz and Jack, two of their sons, should remain where they were, whilst the two other young men should return to Europe with a cargo of cochineal, pearls, coral, nutmegs, and other articles that the country produced of value in a commercial point of view. It was, however, understood that one of the two should return again as soon as possible, and bring back with him any of his countrymen who might be induced to become settlers in this land of promise, Becker hoping, by this means, to found a new colony which might afterwards flourish under the name of _New Switzerland_. The mission to Europe was formally confided to Frank and Ernest, the two most sedate of the family. Besides the captain and crew, there was on board the ship now riding at anchor in the bay a passenger, named Wolston, with his wife and two daughters. This gentleman was on his way to join his son at the Cape of Good Hope, but had been taken seriously ill previous to the _Nelsons_ arrival on the coast. He and his family were invited on shore by Becker, and had taken up their quarters at Rockhouse. Wolston was an engineer by profession, but his wife belonged to a highly aristocratic family of the West of England; she had been brought up in a state of ease and refinement, was possessed of all the accomplishments required in fashionable society, but she was at the same time gifted with strong good sense, and could readily accommodate herself to the circumstances in which she was now placed. Her two daughters, Sophia the youngest, a lively child of thirteen, and Mary the eldest, a demure girl of sixteen, had been likewise carefully, but somewhat elaborately, educated. Attracted no less by the hearty and warm reception of the Swiss family, than determined by the state of his health and the pure air of the country, Wolston resolved to await there the return of the sloop, the official destination of which was the Cape of Good Hope, where it had to land despatches from Sidney. Captain Littlestone, of H.B.M.'s sloop _Nelson_, had kindly consented to all these arrangements; he agreed to convey Ernest and Frank Becker and their cargo to the Cape, to aid them there with his experience, and, finally, to recommend them to some trustworthy correspondents he had at Liverpool. He likewise promised to bring back young Wolston with him on his return voyage. Everything being prepared, the departure was fixed for the next day: the sloop, with the blue Peter at the fore, was ready, as soon as the anchor was weighed, to continue her voyage. The cargo had been stowed under hatches. Becker had just given the farewell dinner to Captain Littlestone and Lieutenant Dunsley, his second in command. These two gentlemen had discreetly taken their leave, not to interrupt by their presence the final embraces of the family, the ties of which, after so many long years of labor and hardship, were for the first time to be broken asunder. During the voyage, Wolston had formed an intimacy with the boatswain of the _Nelson_, named Willis, and he, on his side, held Wolston and his family in high esteem. Willis was likewise a great favorite with his captain--they had served in the same ship together when boys; Willis was known to be a first-rate seaman; so great, indeed, was his skill in steering amongst reefs and shoals, that he was familiarly styled the "Pilot," by which cognomen he was better known on board than any other. At the particular request of Wolston, who had some communications to make to him respecting his son, Willis remained on shore, the captain promising to send his gig for him and his two passengers the following morning. Whilst Wolston was busy charging the pilot with a multitude of messages for his son, Mrs. Becker was invoking the blessings of Heaven upon the heads of her two boys; praying that the hour might be deferred that was to separate her from these idols of her soul. Becker himself, upon whom his position, as head of the family, imposed the obligation of exhibiting, at least outwardly, more courage, instilled into their minds such principles of truth and rules of conduct as the solemnity of the moment was calculated to engrave on their hearts. The dial now marked three o'clock, tropical time. Willis, wiping, with the cuff of his jacket, a drop that trickled from the corner of his eye, laid hold of his seal-skin sou'-wester as a signal of immediate departure. Ernest and Frank were bending their heads to receive the parting benediction of their parents, when suddenly a fierce torrent of wind shook the gallery of Rockhouse to its foundation, and uprooted some of the bamboo columns by which it was supported. "Only a squall," said Willis quietly. "A squall!" exclaimed Becker, "what do you call a hurricane then?" "Oh, a hurricane, I mean a downright reefer, all square and close-hauled, that is a very different affair; but, after all, this begins to look very like the real article." Now came a succession of gusts, each succeeding one more powerful than its predecessor, till every beam of the gallery bent and quivered; dense copper-colored clouds appeared in the atmosphere, rolling against each other, and disengaging by their shock, the thunder and lightnings. Then fell, not the slender needles of water we call rain, but veritable floods, that were to our heaviest European showers what the cataracts of the Rhine, at Staubach, or the falls of Niagara, are to the gushings of a sylvan rivulet. In a few minutes the Jackal river had converted the valley into a lake, in which the plantations and buildings appeared to be afloat, and rendering egress from Rockhouse nearly impossible. However much of a colorist Willis might be, he could not have painted a storm with the eloquence of the elements that had cut short his observation. "You will not attempt to embark in weather like this?" inquired Mrs. Becker anxiously. "My duty it is to be on board," replied the Pilot. "The craft that ventures to take you there will get swamped twenty times on the way," observed Becker. "The worst of it is, the wind is from the east, and evidently carries waterspouts with it. These waterspouts strike a ship without the slightest warning, play amongst the rigging, whirl the sails about like feathers--sometimes carry them off bodily, or, if they do not do that, tear them to shreds and shiver the masts. In either case, the consequences are disagreeable." "A reason for you to be thankful you are safe on shore with us!" remarked Mrs. Wolston. "It is all very well for you, Mrs. Wolston, and you, Mrs. Becker, to talk in that way; your business in life is that of wives and mothers. But what will the Lords of the Admiralty say, when they hear that the sloop _Nelson_ was wrecked whilst Master Willis, the boatswain, was skulking on shore like a land-rat?" "Oh, they would only say there was one useful man more, and a victim the less," replied Fritz. "Why, not exactly, Master Fritz; they would say that Willis was a poltroon or a deserter, whichever he likes; they would very likely condemn him to the yard-arm by default, and carry out the operation when they get hold of him. But I will not endanger any one else; all I want is the use of your canoe." "What! brave this storm in a wretched seal-skin cockle-shell like that?" "Would it not be offending Providence," hazarded Mary Wolston, "for one of God's creatures to abandon himself to certain death?" "It would, indeed," added Mrs. Wolston; "true courage consists in facing danger when it is inevitable, but not in uselessly imperiling one's life; there stops courage, and temerity begins." "If it is not pride or folly. I do not mean that with reference to you, Willis," hastily added Wolston; "I know that you are open as day, and that all your impulses arise from the heart." "That is all very fine--but I must act; let me have the canoe. I want the canoe: that is my idea." "Having lived fifteen years cut off from society," gravely observed Becker, "it may be that I have forgotten some of the laws it imposes; nevertheless, I declare upon my honor and conscience--" "Let me have the canoe, otherwise I must swim to the ship." "I declare," continued Becker, "that Willis exaggerates the requirements of his duty. There are stronger forces to which the human will must yield. It is one thing to desert one's post in the hour of danger, and another to have come on shore at the express desire of a superior officer, when the weather was fine, and nothing presaged a storm." "If there is danger," continued the obstinate sailor, whom the united strength of the four men could scarcely restrain, "I ought to share it; that is my duty and I must." "But," said Wolston, "all the boatswains and pilots in the world can do nothing against hurricanes and waterspouts; their duty consists in steering the ship clear of reefs and quicksands, and not in fighting with the elements." "There is one thing you forget, Mr. Wolston." "And what is that, Willis?" "It is to be side by side with your comrades in the hour of calamity, to aid them if you can, and to perish with them if such be the will of Fate. At this moment, poor Littlestone may be on the point of taking up his winter quarters in the body of a shark. But there, if the sloop is lost while I am here on shore, I will not survive her; all that you can say or do will not prevent me doing myself justice." At this moment Jack, who had disappeared during this discussion, unobserved, came in saturated to the skin with water, and in a state difficult to describe. Like the boots of Panurge, his feet were floating in the water that flowed from the rim of his cap. "What is this?" exclaimed his mother. "You wilful boy, may I ask where, in all the world, you have been?" "I have just come from the bay. O father and mother! O Mr. and Mrs. Wolston! O Master Willis! if you had only seen! The sea is furious; sometimes the waves rise to the skies and mingle with the clouds, so that it is impossible to say where the one begins and the other ends. It is frightful, but it is magnificent!" "And the sloop?" demanded Willis. "She is not to be seen; she is no longer at anchor in the bay." "Gone to the open sea, to avoid being driven ashore," said Wolston. "Captain Littlestone is not the man to remain in a perilous position whilst there remained a means of escape; besides, nothing that science, united with courage and presence of mind, could do, would have been neglected by him to save his ship." "In addition to which," observed Becker, "if he had found himself in positive danger, he would have fired a gun; and in that case, though we are not pilots, every one of us would have hastened to his assistance." "You see, Willis," said Mrs. Wolston, "God comes to ease your mind; were we to allow you to go to the sloop now, the thing is simply impossible." "I have my own idea about that," insisted Willis, whilst he kept beating a tatoo on the isinglass window panes. Whilst thus chafing like a caged lion, Wolston's youngest daughter went towards him, and gently putting her hand in his, said, "Sweetheart" (for so she had been accustomed to address him), "do you remember when, during the voyage, you used to look at me very closely, and that one evening I went boldly up to you and asked you why you did so?" "Yes, Miss Sophia, I recollect." "Do you remember the answer you gave me?" "Yes, I told you that I had left in England, on her mother's bosom, a little girl who would now be about your own age, and that I could not observe the wind play amongst the curls of your fair hair without thinking of her, and that it sometimes made my breast swell like the mizen-top-sail before the breeze." "Yes, and when I promised to keep out of your sight, not to reawaken your grief, you told me it was a kind of grief that did you more good than harm, and that the more it made you grieve, the happier you would be." "All true:" replied the sailor, whose excitement was melting away before the soft tones of the child like hoar frost in the sunshine. "Then I promised to come and talk to you about your Susan every day; and did I not keep my word?" "Certainly, Miss Sophia; and it is only bare justice to say that you gracefully yielded to all my fatherly whims, and even went so far as to wear a brown dress oftener than another, because I said that my little Susan wore that color the last time I kissed her." "Oh, but that is a secret, Willis." "Yes, but I am going to tell all our secrets--that is an idea of mine. You then went and learned Susan's mother's favorite song, with which you would sometimes sing me to sleep, like a great baby that I am, and make me fancy that I was surrounded by my wife and daughter, and was comfortably smoking my pipe in my own cottage, with a glass of grog at my elbow." Willis said this so earnestly, that the smile called forth by the oddness of the remark scarcely dared to show itself on the lips of the listeners. "Very well," resumed the little damsel, "if you are not more reasonable, and if you keep talking of throwing your life away, I will never again place my hand in yours as now; I shall not love you any more, and shall find means of letting Susan's mother know that you went away and killed yourself, and made her a widow." Men can only speak coldly and appeal to reason--logic is their panacea in argument. Women alone possess those inspirations, those simple words without emphasis, that find their way directly to the heart, and for which purpose God has doubtless endowed them with those soft, mild tones, whose melodies cause our most cherished resolutions to vanish in the air; like those massive stone gates we have seen in some of the old castles in Germany, that resist the most powerful effort to push them open, but which a spring of the simplest construction causes to move gently on their formidable hinges. Willis was silent; but no openly-expressed submission could have been more eloquent than this mute acquiescence. In the meantime the tempest raged with increased fury, the winds howled, and the water splashed; it appeared at each shock as if the elements had reached the utmost limit of the terrific; that the sea, as the poet says, had lashed itself into exhaustion! But, anon, there came another outburst more terrible still, to declare that, in his anger as in his blessings, the All-Powerful has no other limit than the infinite. "If it is not in the power of human beings to aid the crew of the _Nelson_," said Mrs. Becker kneeling, "there are other means more efficacious which we are guilty in not having sought before." Every one followed this example, and it was a touching scene to behold the rough sailor yield submissively to the gentle violence of the child's hand, and bend his bronzed and swarthy visage humbly beside her cherub head. CHAPTER II. TO WHAT EXTENT WILLIS THE PILOT HAD IDEAS ON CERTAIN SUBJECTS--THE KNIGHTS OF THE OCEAN. The storm continued to rage without intermission for three entire days. During this interval, not only was it impossible to send the canoe or pinnace to sea, but even to venture a step beyond the threshold, so completely had the tempest broken up the burning soil, the thirst of which the great Disposer of all things had proportioned to the deluges that were destined to assuage it. All had at length yielded to bodily fatigue and mental anxiety, for the seeming eternity of these three days and three nights had been passed in prayer, and in the most fearful apprehensions as to the fate of the _Nelson_ and her crew. Nothing in the horizon as yet indicated that the thunders were tired of roaring, the clouds of rending themselves asunder, the winds of howling, or the waves of frantically beating on the cliffs. Towards evening the ladies had retired to the sick-room with a view of seeking some repose. Becker, Willis, and the young men bivouacked in the hall, where some mattresses and bear-skins had been laid down. Here it was arranged that, for the common safety, each during the night should watch in turn. But about two in the morning, Ernest had no sooner relieved Fritz than, fatigue overcoming his sense of duty, the poor fellow fell comfortably asleep, and he was soon perfectly unconscious of all that was passing around him. Becker awoke first--it was broad daylight. "Where is Willis?" he cried, on getting up. "Holloa!" exclaimed Fritz, running towards the magazine, "the canoe has disappeared!" In an instant all were on their feet. "Some one of you has fallen asleep then," said Becker to his children; "for when the pilot watched I watched with him, and never lost sight of him for a moment." "I am the culprit," said Ernest; "and if any mischief arises out of this imprudence, I shall never forgive myself. But who could have dreamt of any one being foolhardy enough to attempt the rescue of a ship in a nutshell that scarcely holds two persons?" "I pray Heaven that your sleepy-headedness may not result in the loss of human life! You see, my son, that there is no amount of duty, be it ever so trifling in importance, that can be neglected with impunity. It is the concurrent devotion of each, and the sacrifices of one for another, that constitutes and secures the mutual security. Society on a small, as on a large scale, is a chain of which each individual is a link, and when one fails the whole is broken." "I will go after him," said Ernest. "Fritz and I will go with you," added Frank. "No," said Ernest; "I alone am guilty, and I wish alone to remedy my fault--that is, as far as possible." "I could not hide the canoe," observed Fritz, "but I hid the oars, and I find them in their place." "That, perhaps, will have prevented him embarking," remarked one of the boys. "A man like Willis," replied Becker, "is not prevented carrying out his intentions by such obstacles; he will have taken the first thing that came to hand; but let us go." "What, father, am I not then to go alone, and so bear the penalty of my own fault?" "No, Ernest, that would be to inflict two evils upon us instead of one; it is sufficient that you have shown your willingness to do so. Besides, three will not be over many _to convince_ Willis, even if yet in time." "And mother? and the ladies?" inquired Fritz. "I shall leave Frank and Jack to see to them; a mere obstinate freak, or a catastrophe, it will be time enough, when over, to inform them of this new idea of the Pilot's." "It is something more than an idea this time," remarked Jack. Just as Becker and his two sons were issuing from the grotto, the report of a cannon-shot resounded through the air. Awoke and startled by the explosion, Becker's wife and Mrs. Wolston came running towards them. As for the girls, their guardian angel had too closely enveloped them in its wings to admit of their sleep being disturbed. "The sloop on the coast!" said Frank; "for the sound is too distinct to come from a distance." "Unless Willis has got upon Shark's Island," objected Fritz, running towards the terrace, armed with a telescope. "Just so; he is there, I see him distinctly; he is recharging our four-pounder." "God be praised! you relieve my conscience of a great burden," said Ernest, placing his hand on his breast. "He is going to discharge it," cried Fritz--boom. Then a second shot reverberated in the air. "If Captain Littlestone be within hearing of that signal, he will be sure to reply to it." said Becker. "Listen!" They hushed themselves in silence, each retaining his respiration, as if their object had been to hear the sound of a fly's wing rather than the report of a cannon. "Nothing!" said Becker sadly, at the expiration of a few minutes. "Nothing!" reiterated successively all the voices. "How in all the world did Willis contrive to get transported to Shark's Island?" inquired Mrs. Becker. "Simply, wife, by watching when asleep, whilst one of our gentlemen slept when he watched." "Yes, mother," said Ernest, "and if you would not have me blush before Mrs. Wolston, you will not insist upon an explanation of the mystery." "Mrs. Wolston," she replied, "is not so exacting as you seem to think, Master Ernest--the only difference that her presence here should make amongst you is that you have two mothers instead of one." "That is," said Mrs. Wolston smiling, "if Mrs. Becker has no objections to dividing the office with me." "Shall I not have compensation in your daughters?" said Mrs. Becker, taking her by the hand. "Still," interrupted Fritz, "I cannot yet conceive how Willis managed to reach Shark's Island in a wretched canoe, without oars, through waves that ought to have swallowed him up over and over again." "Bah!" exclaimed Jack; "what use has a pilot for oars?" "There is a question! You, who modestly call yourself the best horseman on the island, how would you do, if you had nothing to ride upon?" "I could at least fall back upon broomsticks," retorted the imperturbable Jack. "Besides, in Willis's case, the canoe was the steed, the oars the saddle--nothing more." "We shall not stay here to solve the riddle," said Becker; "the storm seems disposed to abate; and the more that it was unreasonable to face certain destruction in a vain endeavor to assist a problematical shipwreck, the more it is incumbent upon us now to go in quest of the _Nelson_." "But the sea will still be very terrible!" quickly added Mrs. Becker. "If all danger were over, wife, the enterprise would do us little credit. It is our duty to do the best we can, according to the strength and means at our command. Fritz, Ernest, and Jack, go and put on your life-preservers--we shall take up Willis in passing." "I must not insist," said Mrs. Becker; "the sacrifice would, indeed, be no sacrifice, if it could be easily borne; and yet--" "Remember the time, wife, when I was obliged, in order to secure the precious remains of our ship, to venture with our eldest sons on a float of tubs, leaving you exposed, alone with a child of seven, to the chance of eternal isolation!" "That is very true, husband: I am unjust towards Providence, which has never ceased blessing us; but I am only a weak woman, and my heart often gets the better of my head." "To-day I leave Frank with you; but, instead of your being his protector, as was the case fifteen years ago, he will be yours. Then there is Mrs. Wolston, her daughters, and husband, quite a new world of sympathies and consolations, by which our island has been so miraculously peopled." "Go then, husband, and may God bring back in safety both the pinnace and the _Nelson_!" "By the way, Mrs. Wolston, how does our worthy invalid get on? We live in such a turmoil of events and consternations, that I must beg a thousand pardons for not having asked after him before." "His sleep appears untroubled; and, notwithstanding all the terrors of the last few days, I entertain sanguine hopes of his immediate recovery." "You will at least return before night?" said Mrs. Becker to her husband. "Rely upon my not prolonging my stay beyond what the exigencies of the expedition imperiously require." "Good gracious! what are these?" exclaimed Mrs. Wolston as the three brothers entered, equipped in seal-gut trowsers, floating stays of the same material, and Greenland caps. "The Knights of the Ocean," replied Jack gravely, "who, like the heroes of Cervantes, go forth to redress the wrongs done by the tempest, and to break lances--oars, I mean--in favor of persecuted sloops." Mrs. Becker herself could scarcely refrain from smiling. Such is the power of the smile that, in season or out of season, it often finds its way to the most pallid lips, in the midst of the greatest disasters and the deepest grief. It appears as if always listening at the door ready to take its place on the slightest notice. This diversion had the good effect of mixing a little honey with--if the expression may be used--the bitterness of the parting adieus. Becker took the lead in hiding his sorrow; the three young Greenlanders tore themselves from the maternal embrace, and affectionately kissed the hand held out to them by Mrs. Wolston. Then, between those that departed and those that remained behind, there was nothing more than the ties of recollection, the common sadness, and the endless links of mutual affection. CHAPTER III. WHEREIN WILLIS THE PILOT PROVES "IRREFRAGABLY" THAT EPHEMERIDES DIE OF CONSUMPTION AND HOME-SICKNESS--THE CANOE AND ITS YOUNG ONES--THE SEARCH AFTER THE SLOOP--FOUND--THE SWORD-FISH--FLOATING ATOMS--ADMIRAL SOCRATES. When they had come within a short distance of the bay, Jack thought he saw a large black creature moving in the bushes that lined the shore. "A sea monster!" he cried, levelling his musket; "I discovered it, and have the right to the first shot." "No, sir," said Fritz, whose keen eye was a sort of locomotive telescope, "I object to that, for I do not want you to kill or wound my canoe." "Nonsense, it moves." "Whether it moves or not, we shall all see by and by; but do you not observe this monster's young ones gambolling by its side?" "Which proves I am right, unless you mean to say your canoe has been hatching," and Jack again levelled his rifle. "Don't fire, it is the hat and jacket of Willis!" "What!" exclaimed Ernest, "is the Pilot a triton then, that he could dispense with the canoe?" "Well, yes, unless the canoe has found its way back of its own accord, which would indeed make it an intelligent creature." "The Pilot has evidently reached Shark's Island by swimming, in spite of surf and breakers--a feat almost without a parallel." "Bah!" said Ernest, parodying Jack's witticism about the oars, "what does a pilot care about surf and breakers?" Strongly moored in a creek of the Jackal River, and protected by a bluff, forming a screen between it and the sea, the pinnace had in no way suffered from the storm. The swell was so violent, that they had a world of trouble in making the island; as they approached, Willis, who had made a speaking-trumpet by joining his hands round his mouth, was roaring out alternately, "starboard," "larboard," "hard-a-port," just as if these terms had not been Hebrew to the impromptu mariners. At last, tired of holloaing, "Stop a bit," he said, "I shall find a quicker way;" with that he threw himself directly into the sea, and cut through the waves towards them as if his arms had been driven by a steam engine. Arrived on board, he gave a vigorous turn to the tiller, laid hold of the sheet, let out a reef here, took in another there; the pinnace was soon completely at his command, and behaved admirably; true, she pitched furiously, and the gunwale was under water at every plunge. He headed along the coast till the point beyond which Fritz had first observed the _Nelson_ was fairly doubled; some days before this point was called Cape Deliverance, it was now, perhaps, about to acquire the term of Cape Disappointment, but for the moment its future designation was in embryo. Leaping on the poop, Willis carefully scanned the horizon as the boat rose upon the summit of the waves; but seeing nothing, he at last leapt down again with an expression of rage that, under other circumstances, would have been irresistibly comic. Abandoning the direction of the pinnace, he went and sat down on a bulk-head, and covered his face with his hands, in an attitude of profound desolation. "Willis! Willis!" cried Jack, "I shall tell Sophia." But there was neither the soft voice there, the caressing hand, nor the sweet fascination of the young girl's presence, and Willis continued immovable. Becker saw that his was one of those minds that grew less calm the more they were urged, and the excitement of which must be permitted to wear itself out; he therefore beckoned his sons to leave him to his own reflections. The wind still blew a gale, and the pinnace pitched heavily; but the sun was now beginning to break through the masses of lurid cloud, and the air was becoming less and less charged with vapor. "I can descry nothing either," said Becker; "and yet this is the direction the storm must have driven the sloop." "The sea is very capricious," suggested Fritz. "True, but not to the extent of carrying a ship against the wind." "Unfortunately," said Jack, "it is not on sea as on land, where the slightest indications of an object lost may lead to its discovery; a word dropped in the ear of a passer-by might put you on the track, but here it is no use saying, 'Sir, did you not see the _Nelson_ pass this way?'" "Fire a shot," said Ernest; "it may perhaps be heard, now that the air is less humid." The two-pounder was ready charged; Fritz struck a light and set fire to a strip of mimosa bark, with which he touched the piece, and the report boomed across the waters. Willis raised his head and listened anxiously, but soon dropped it again, and resumed his former attitude of hopeless despair. "It may be," said Ernest, "that the _Nelson_ hears our signal, though we do not hear hers." "How can that be?" inquired Jack. "Why, very easily. Sound increases or diminishes in intensity according as the wind carries it on or retards it." "What, then, is sound, that the wind can blow it about, most learned brother?" "It is a result of the compression of the air, that from its elasticity extends and expands, and which causes a sort of trembling or undulation, similar to that which is observed in water when a stone is thrown into it." "And you may add," said Becker, "that bodies striking the air excite sonorous vibrations in this fluid; thus it rings under the lash that strikes it with violence, and whistles under the rapid impulsion of a switch: it likewise becomes sonorous when it strikes itself with force against any solid body, as the wind when it blows against the cordage of ships, houses, trees, and generally every object with which it comes in contact." "I can understand," replied Jack, "how this sonorous effect is produced on the particles of air in immediate contact with the object struck; but how this sound is propagated, I do not see." "Very likely; but still it travels from particle to particle, in a circle, at the rate of three hundred and forty yards in a second." "Three hundred and forty yards in a second!" said Willis, who was beginning by degrees to recover his self-possession. "Well, that is what I should call going a-head." "And by what sort of compasses has this speed been measured, Master Ernest?" "The first accurate measurement, Master Jack, was made at Paris in 1738. There are there two tolerably elevated points, namely, Montmartre and Montlhéry--the distance between these, in a direct line, is 14,636 _toises_. Cannons were fired during the night, and the engineers on one of the elevations observed that an interval of eighty-six seconds and a half elapsed between the flash and the report of a cannon fired on the other." "That half-second is very amusing," said Jack laughing; "if there had been only eighty or eighty-six net, one might still be permitted to entertain some doubts; but eighty-six and a half admits nothing of the kind. But why not three-quarters or six-eighths, they would do as well?" "What is more natural than to reckon the fraction, if we are desirous of obtaining absolute precision? Is six months of your time of no value? Are thirty minutes more or less on the dial of your watch of no signification to you?" "Your brother is perfectly right, Jack; you are not always successful in your jokes." "Other experiments have been made since then," continued Ernest, "and the results have always been the same, making allowances for the wind, and a slight variation that is ascribed to temperature." "To confirm the accuracy of this statement, the speed of light would have to be taken into consideration." "True; but the velocity of light is so great, that the instant a cannon is fired the flash is seen." "Whatever the distance?" "Yes, whatever the distance. Bear in mind that the rays of the sun only require eight minutes to traverse the thirty-four millions of leagues that extend between us and that body. Hence it follows that the time light takes to travel from one point to another on the earth may be regarded as _nil_." "That is something like distance and speed," remarked Willis, "and may be all right as regards the sun, but I should not be disposed to admit that there are any other instances of the same kind." "Very good, Master Willis; and yet the sun is only a step from us in comparison to the distance of some stars that we see very distinctly, but which are, nevertheless, so remote, that their rays, travelling at the same rate as those of the sun, are several years in reaching us." Willis rose abruptly, whistling "the Mariner's March," and went to join Fritz, who was steering the pinnace. At this _naïve_ mark of disapprobation on the part of the Pilot, Becker, Ernest, and Jack burst involuntarily into a violent peal of laughter. "Laugh away, laugh away." said Willis; "I will not admit your calculations for all that." The sky had now assumed an opal or azure tint, the wind had gradually died away into a gentle breeze, the waves were now swelling gently and regularly, like the movements of the infant's cradle that is being rocked asleep. Never had a day, opening in the convulsions of a tempest, more suddenly lapsed into sunshine and smiles: it was like the fairies of Perrault's Tales, who, at first wrapped in sorry rags, begging and borne down with age, throw off their chrysalis and appear sparkling with youth, gaiety, and beauty, their wallet converted into a basket of flowers, and their crutch to a magic wand. "Father" inquired Fritz, "shall we go any farther?" Since the weather had calmed down, and there was no longer any necessity for exertion, the expedition had lost its charm for the young man. "I think it is useless; what say you, Willis?" "Ah," said the latter, taking Becker by the hand, "in consideration of the eight days' friendship that connects you even more intimately with Captain Littlestone than my affection for him of twenty years' standing, keep still a few miles to the east." "If the sloop has been driven to a distance by the storm, and is returning towards us, which is very likely, I do not see that we can be of much use." "But if dismasted and leaky?" "That would alter the case, only I am afraid the ladies will be uneasy about us." "But they were half prepared, father." "Jack is right," added Fritz, whose energies were again called into play by the thought of the _Nelson_ in distress; "let us go on." "Besides, on the word of a pilot, the sea will be very calm and gentle for some time to come: there is not the slightest danger." "And what if there were?" replied Fritz. "Well, Willis, I shall give up the pinnace to you till dark," said Becker, "and may God guide us; we shall return to-night, so as to arrive at Rockhouse early in the morning." "Hurrah for the captain!" cried Willis, throwing a cap into the air. The evolutions of a cap, thrown up towards the sky or down upon the ground, were very usual modes with Willis of expressing his joy or sorrow. This homage rendered to Becker, he hastened to let a reef out of the sheet, and the pinnace, for a moment at rest, redoubled its speed, like post-horses starting from the inn-door under the combined influence of a cheer from the postillion and a flourish of the whip. "There is a cockle-shell that skips along pretty fairly," said Willis; "but it wants two very important things." "What things?" "A caboose and a nigger." "A caboose and a nigger?" "Yes, I mean a pantry and a cook; a gale for breakfast is all very well, one gets used to it, it is light and easily digested; but the same for dinner is rather too much of a good thing in one day." "I observed your thoughtful mother hang a sack on one of your shoulders, which appeared tolerably well filled--where is it?" "Here it is," said Jack, issuing from the hatchway; "here are our stores: a ham, two Dutch cheeses, two callabashes full of Rockhouse malaga, and there is plenty of fresh water in the gourds; with these, we have wherewithal to defy hunger till to-morrow." "Capital!" said Willis. This time, however, a cap did not appear in the air, as the last one had not been seen since the former ovation. "Let us lay the table," said Jack, arranging the coils of rope that crowded the deck. "Well, you see, Willis, we want for nothing on board the pinnace, not even a what-do-you-call-it?" "A caboose, Master Jack." "Well, not even a caboose." "Quite true; and if the _Nelson_ were in the offing, I would not exchange my pilot's badge for the epaulettes of a commodore; but, alas! she is not there." "Cheer up, Willis, cheer up; one is either a man or one is not. What is the good of useless regrets?" "Very little, but it is hard to be yard-armed while absent at my time of life--and afterwards--your health, Mr. Becker." "That would be hard at any age, Willis; but I rather think it has not come to that yet." "When it has come to it, there will be very little time left to talk it over." "Did you not say, brother, that the _Nelson_ might hear our signals without our hearing hers? If so, there is a chance for Willis yet." "Certainly, Jack, because she has the wind in her favor to act as a speaking-trumpet, whilst we had it against us acting as a deafener." "Is there any other influence that affects sound besides the wind?" "Yes, I have already mentioned that temperature has something to do with it. Sound varies in intensity according to the state of the atmosphere. If, for example, we ring a small bell in a closed vessel filled with air, it has been observed that, as the air is withdrawn by the pump, the sound gradually grows less and less distinct." "And if a vacuum be formed?" "Then the sound is totally extinguished." "So, then," objected Willis, "if two persons were to talk in what you call a vacuum, they would not hear each other?" "Two persons could not talk in a vacuum," replied Ernest. "Why not?" "Because they would die as soon as they opened their mouths." "Ah, that alters the case." "If, on the contrary, a quantity of air or gas were compressed into a space beyond what it habitually held, then the sound," continued Ernest, "would be more intense than if the air were free." "In that case a whisper would be equal to a howl!" "You think I am joking, Willis; but on the tops of high mountains, such as the Himalaya and Mont Blanc, where the air is much rarified, voices are not heard at the distance of two paces." "Awkward for deaf people!" "Whilst, on the icy plains of the frozen regions, where the air is condensed by the severe cold, a conversation, held in the ordinary tone, may be easily carried on at the distance of half a league." "Awkward for secrets!" "And how does sound operate with regard to solid bodies?" inquired Jack. "According to the degree of elasticity possessed by their veins or fibres." "Explain yourself." "That is, solid bodies, whose structure is such that the vibration communicated to some of their atoms circulates through the mass, are susceptible of conveying sound." "Give us an instance." "Apply your ear to one end of a long beam, and you will hear distinctly the stroke of a pin's head on the other; whilst the same stroke will scarcely be heard through the breadth of the wood." "So that, in the first case, the sound runs along the longitudinal fibres where the contiguity of parts is closer, than when the body is taken transversely?" "Just so." "And across water?" "It is heard, but more feebly." For some time Fritz had been closely observing with the telescope a particular part of the horizon, when all at once he cried, "This time I see him distinctly; he is bearing down upon us." "Who? the sloop?" cried Willis, starting up and letting fall the glass he had in his hand. "What an extraordinary pace! he bounds into the air, then plumps into the water, then leaps up again, just like an India-rubber ball, that touches the ground only to take a fresh spring!" "Impossible, Master Fritz; the _Nelson_ tops the waves honestly and gallantly; but as to leaping into the air, she is a little too bulky for that." "Ah, poor Willis, it is not the _Nelson_ that is under my glass at present, but an enormous fish, ten or twelve feet in length." "Oh, how you startled me!" "Father! Ernest! prepare to fire! Jack, the harpoon! he is coming this way." Fritz stood at the stern of the pinnace, his rifle levelled, following with his eyes the movements of the monster; when within reach, he fired with so much success and address that he hit the creature on the head. It then changed its course, leaving behind a train of blood. "Let us after him, Willis; quick!" The Pilot turned the head of the pinnace, and Jack immediately threw his harpoon. "Struck!" cried he joyfully. By the hissing of the line, and then the rapid impulsion of the pinnace, it was felt that the monster had more strength than the craft and its crew together. Ernest and his father fired at the same time; the ball of the former was lost in the animal's flesh, that of the latter rebounded off a horny protuberance that armed the monster's upper lip. Fritz had time to recharge his rifle; he levelled it a second time, and the ball went to join the former; but, for all that, the pinnace continued to cleave the water at a furious rate. Becker seized an axe and cut the rope. "Oh, father, what a pity! such a splendid capture for our museum of natural history!" "It is a sword-fish, children; a monster of a dangerous species, and of extreme voracity. If, by way of reciprocity, the fish have a museum at the bottom of the sea, they will have some fine specimens of the human race that have become the prey of this creature; and it may be that we were on the way to join the collection." "Did you observe the formidable dentilated horn?" "It is by means of this horn or sword, from which it takes its name, that it wages a continual war with the whale, whose only mode of escape is by flourishing its enormous tail; but the sword-fish, being very agile, easily avoids this, bounds into the air as Fritz saw it doing just now, then, falling down upon its huge adversary, pierces him with its sword." "By the way, talking about the whale," said Jack, "all naturalists seem agreed, and we ourselves are convinced from our own observation, that its throat is very narrow, and that it can only swallow molluscs, or very small fishes--what, in that case, becomes of the history of Jonah?" "It is rather unfortunate," replied Becker, "that the whale has been associated with this miracle. There is now no possibility of separating the whale from Jonah, or Jonah from the whale; yet, in the Greek translation of the Chaldean text, there is _Ketos_--in the Latin, there is _Cete_--and both these words were understood by the ancients to signify a fish of enormous size, but not the whale in particular. The shark, for example, can swallow a man, and even a horse, without mangling it." "I have heard," said Jack, "of navigators who have landed on the back of a whale, and walked about on it, supposing it a small island." "There is nothing impossible about that," observed Willis. "One thing is certain, that we had just now within reach a sea monster who has carried off four leaden bullets in his body without seeming to be in the least inconvenienced by them; on the contrary, he seemed to move all the quicker for the dose." "Life is a very different thing with those fellows than with us. The carp is said to live two hundred years, and it is supposed that a whale might live for ten centuries if the harpoon did not come in the way to shorten the period." "Ah!" exclaimed Willis, with a sigh that might have moved a train of waggons, "these fellows have no cares." "And the ephemeride, that dies an instant after its birth, do you suppose that it dies of grief?" "Who knows, Master Jack?" "The ephemeride does not die so quickly as you think," said Becker; "it commences by living three years under water in the form of a maggot. It afterwards becomes amphibious, when it has a horny covering, on which the rudiments of wings may be observed. Then, four or five months after this first metamorphosis, generally in the month of August, it issues from its skin, almost as rapidly as we throw off a jacket; attached to the rejected skin are the teeth, lips, horns, and all the apparatus that the creature required as a water insect; then it is no sooner winged, gay, and beautiful, than, as you observe, it dies--hence it is called the day-fly, its existence being terminated by the shades of night." "I was certain of it," said Willis. "Certain of what?" "That it died of grief at being on land. When one has been accustomed to the water, you see, under such circumstances life is not worth the having." "The day-fly," continued Becker, "is an epitome of those men who spend a life-time hunting after wealth and glory, and who perish themselves at the moment they reach the pinnacle of their ambitious desires. Whence I conclude, my dear children, that there are nothing but beginnings and endings of unhappiness in this world, and that true felicity is only to be hoped for in another sphere." "What a curious series of transformations! First an aquatic insect, next amphibious, then throwing away the organs for which it has no further use, and becoming provided with those suited to its new state!" "Yes, my dear Fritz; and yet those complicated and beautiful operations of Nature have not prevented philosophers from asserting that the world resulted from _floating atoms_, which, by force of combination, and after an infinity of blind movements, conglomerate into plants, animals, men, heaven, and earth." "I am only a plain sailor," said Willis "yet the eye of a worm teaches me more than these philosophers seem to have imagined in their philosophy." "Such a system could only have originated in Bedlam or Charenton." "No, Ernest, it is the system of Epicurus and Lucretius. Without going so far back, there are a thousand others quite as ridiculous, with which it is unnecessary to charge your young heads." "All madmen are not in confinement, and it may be that Epicurus and Lucretius had arrived at those limits of human reason, where genius begins in some and folly in others." "It is not that, Fritz; but if men, says Malebranche somewhere,[A] are interested in having the sides of an equilateral triangle unequal, and that false geometry was as agreeable to them as false philosophy, they would make the problems equally false in geometry as in morality, for this simple reason, that their errors afford them gratification, whilst truth would only hurt and annoy them." "Very good," observed Willis; "this Malebranche, as you call him, must have been an admiral?" "No, Willis, nothing more than a simple philosopher, but one of good faith, like Socrates, who admitted that what he knew best was, that he knew nothing." The sun had gradually disappeared in the midst of purple tinged clouds, leaving along the horizon at first a fringe of gold, then a simple thread, and finally nothing but the reflection of his rays, sent to the earth by the layers of atmosphere,[B] like the adieu we receive at the turning of a road from a friend who is leaving us. There was a festival in the sky that night; the firmament brought out, one by one, her circlet of diamonds, till the whole were sparkling like a blaze of light; the pinnace also left a fiery train in her wake, caused partly by electricity and partly by the phosphorescent animalculae that people the ocean. "Willis," said Becker, "I leave it entirely to you to decide the instant of our return." The Pilot changed at once the course of the boat, without attempting to utter a word, so heavy was his heart at this unsuccessful termination of the expedition. "It will be curious," observed Fritz, "if we find the _Nelson_, on our return, snugly at anchor in Safety Bay." "I have a presentiment," said Jack; "and you will see that we have been playing at hide-and-seek with the _Nelson_." Willis shook his head. "Are there not a thousand accidents to cause a ship to deviate from her route?" "Yes, Master Ernest, there are typhoons, and the waterspouts of which I spoke to you before. In such cases, ships often deviate from their route, but generally by going to the bottom." Willis concluded this sentence with a gesture that defies description, implying annihilation. "Remember Admiral Socrates, Willis," said Jack; "_what I know best is, that I know nothing_, and avow that God has other means of accomplishing his decrees besides typhoons and waterspouts." "My excellent young friends, I know you want to inspire me with hope, as they give a toy to a child to keep it from crying, and I thank you for your good intentions. Now, for three days you have, so to speak, had no rest, and I insist on your profiting by this night to take some repose; and you also, Mr. Becker; I am quite able to manage the pinnace alone." "Yes providing you do not play us some trick, like that of this morning, for instance." "All stratagems are justifiable in war. Master Ernest had fair warning that I had an idea to work out. Besides, a prisoner, when under hatches, has the right to escape if he can: under parole, the case is quite different." "Well, Willis, if you give me your simple promise to steer straight for New Switzerland, and awake me in two hours to take the bearings--" "I give it, Mr. Becker." The three Greenlanders then descended into the hold, for tropical nights are as chilly as the days are hot, and Becker, rolling himself up in a sail, lay on deck. In less than five minutes they were all fast asleep, and Willis paced the deck, his arms crossed, and mechanically gazing upon a star that was mirrored in the water. "Several years to come to us, and that at the rate of seventy thousand leagues a second--that is _a little_ too much." Then he went to the rudder, his head leaning upon his breast, and glancing now and then with distracted eye at the course of the boat, buried in a world of thought, sad and confused, doubtless beholding in succession visions of the _Nelson_, of Susan, and of Scotland. FOOTNOTES: [A] "Search after Truth," book ix. [B] The twilight is entirely owing to this. CHAPTER IV. A LANDSCAPE--SAD HOUSES AND SMILING HOUSES--POLITENESS IN CHINA--EIGHT SOUPS AT DESSERT--WIND MERCHANTS--ANOTHER IDEA OF THE PILOT'S--SUSAN, VICE SOPHIA. Towards five o'clock next morning everything about Rockhouse was beginning to assume life and motion--within, all its inhabitants were already astir--without, little remained of the recent storm and inundation except that refreshing coolness, which, conjointly with the purified air, infuses fresh vigor, not only into men, but also into every living thing. The citrous, the aloes, and the Spanish jasmines perfumed the landscape. The flexible palms, the tall bananas, with their unbrageous canopy, the broad, pendant-leaved mangoes, and all the rank but luxuriant vegetation that clothed the land to the water's edge, waved majestically under the gentle breeze that blew from the sea. The Jackal River unfolded its silvery band through the roses, bamboos, and cactii that lined its banks. The sun--for that luminary plays an important part in all Nature's festivals--darted its rays on the soil still charged with vapor. Diamond drops sparkled in the cups of the flowers and on the points of the leaves. In the distance, pines, cedars, and richly-laden cocoa-nut trees filled up the background with their dark foliage. The swans displayed their brilliant plumage on the lake, the boughs of the trees were alive with parroquets and other winged creatures of the tropics. Add to the charms of this scene, Mrs. Becker returning from the prairie with a jar of warm, frothy milk--Mrs. Wolston and Mary busied in a multiplicity of household occupations, to which their white hands and ringing voices gave elegance and grace--Sophia tying a rose to the neck of a blue antelope which she had adopted as a companion--Frank distributing food to the ostriches and large animals, and admit, if there is a paradise on earth, it was this spot. Compare this scene with that presented by any of our large cities at the same hour in the morning. In London or Paris, our dominion rarely extends over two or three dreary-looking rooms--a geranium, perhaps, at one of the windows to represent the fields and green lanes of the country; above, a forest of smoking chimneys vary the monotony of the zig-zag roofs; below, a thousand confused noises of waggons, cabs, and the hoarse voices of the street criers; probably the lamps are just being extinguished, and the dust heaps carted away, filling our rooms, and perhaps our eyes, with ashes; the chalk-milk, the air, and the odors are scarcely required to fill up the picture. Breakfast was spread a few paces from Mr. Wolston's bed, whom the two young girls were tending with anxious solicitude, and whose sickness was almost enviable, so many were the cares lavished upon him. "You are wrong, Mrs. Becker," said Mrs. Wolston, "to make yourself uneasy, the sea has become as smooth as a mirror since their departure." "Ah, yes, I know that, my dear Mrs. Wolston, but when one has already undergone the perils of shipwreck, the impression always remains, and makes us see storms in a glass of water." "I am certain," remarked Mr. Wolston, "the cause of their delay is a concession made to Willis." "Very likely he would not consent to return, unless they went as far as possible." "By the way, madam," said Mary, "now that you have got two great girls added to your establishment, I hope you are going to make them useful in some way--we can sew, knit, and spin." "And know how to make preserves," added Sophia. "Yes, and to eat them too," said her mother. "If you can spin, my dears, we shall find plenty of work for you; we have here the Nankin cotton plant, and I intend to dress the whole colony with it." "Delightful!" exclaimed Sophia, clapping her hands; "Nankin dresses just as at the boarding-school, with a straw hat and a green veil." "To be sure, it must be woven first," reflected Mrs. Becker; "but I dare say we shall be able to manage that." "By the way, girls," said Mrs. Wolston, "have you forgotten your lessons in tapestry?" "Not at all, mamma; and now that we think of it, we shall handsomely furnish a drawing-room for you." "But where are the tables and chairs to come from?" inquired Mrs. Becker. "Oh, the gentlemen will see to them." "And the room, where is that to be?" "There is the gallery, is there not?" "And the wool for the carpet?" "Have you not sheep?" "That is true, children; you speak as if we had only to go and sit down in it." "The piano, however, I fear will be wanting, unless we can pick up an Erard in the neighboring forest." "True, mamma, all the overtures that we have had so much trouble in learning will have to go for nothing." "But," said Mrs. Becker, "by way of compensation, there is the vegetable and fruit garden, the pantry, the kitchen, the dairy, and the poultry yard; these are all my charges, and you may have some of them if you like." "Excellent, each shall have her own kingdom and subjects." "It being understood," suggested Mrs. Wolston, "that you are not to eat everything up, should the fruit garden or pantry come under your charge." "That is not fair, mamma; you are making us out to be a couple of cannibals." "You see," continued Mrs. Wolston, "these young people have not the slightest objection to my parading their accomplishments, but the moment I touch their faults they feel aggrieved." "I am persuaded," rejoined Mrs. Becker laughing, "that there are no calumniators in the world like mothers." "Therefore, mamma, to punish you we shall come and kiss you." And accordingly Mrs. Wolston was half stifled under the embraces of her two daughters. "I am certainly not the offender," said Mrs. Becker, "but I should not object to receive a portion of the punishment; these great boys--pointing to Frank--are too heavy to hang on my neck now; you will replace them, my dears, will you not?" "Most willingly, madam; but not to deprive them of their places in your affection." "In case you should lose that, Master Frank," said Mrs. Wolston, "you must have recourse to mine." "But now, my friends, what do you say to going down to the shore to meet the pinnace, and perhaps the _Nelson_?" said Mrs. Becker. "Ah, yes," said Sophia; "and I will stay at home to wait upon father." "No," said Mary; "I am the eldest--that is my right." "Well, my children, do not quarrel about that," said Wolston; "I feel rather better; and I dare say a walk will do me good. Perhaps, when I get tired, Frank will lend me his arm." "Better than that," hastily added Frank; "I shall saddle Blinky; and lead him gently, and you will be as comfortable as in an arm-chair." "What is that you call Blinky?" "Oh, one of our donkeys." "Ah, very good; I was afraid you meant one of your ostriches, and I candidly admit that my experiences in equitation do not extend to riding a winged horse." "In that case," said Mrs. Becker, "to keep Blinky's brother from being jealous, I, shall charge him with a basket of provisions; and we shall lay a cloth under the mangoes, so that our ocean knights, as Jack will have it, may have something to refresh themselves withal as soon as they dismount." The little caravan was soon on the march; the two dogs cleared the way, leaping, bounding, and scampering on before, sniffing the bushes with their intelligent noses; then, returning to their master, they read in his face what was next to be done. Mary walked by the side of Blinky, amusing her father with her prattle. Sophia, with her antelope, was gambolling around them, the one rivalling the other in the grace of their movements, not only without knowing it, but rather because they did not know it. The two mothers were keeping an eye on the donkey; whilst Frank, with his rifle charged, was ready to bring down a quail or encounter a hyena. Some hours after the pinnace hove in sight, the voyagers landed, and received the warm congratulations of those on shore. When Willis had secured the boat, he took a final survey of the coast, penetrating with his eyes every creek and crevice. "Is there no trace of the _Nelson_?" inquired Wolston. "None!" "Well, I had all along thought you would find it so; the wind for four days has been blowing that it would drive the _Nelson_ to her destination. Captain Littlestone, being charged with important despatches, having already lost a fortnight here, has, no doubt, taken advantage of the gale, and made sail for the Cape, trusting to find us all alive here on his return voyage." "Yes," said the Pilot, "I know very well that you have all good hearts, and that you are desirous of giving me all the consolation you can." "Would you not have acted, under similar circumstances, precisely as we suppose Captain Littlestone to have done?" "I admit that the thing, is not only possible, but also that, if alive, it is just what he would have done. I trust, if it be so, that when he gets into port he will report me keel-hauled?" "Keel-hauled?" "Yes, I mean dead. It is a thousand times better to pass for a dead man than a deserter." "The wisest course he could pursue, it appears to me, would be to hold his tongue--probably you will not be missed." "Ah! you think that her Majesty's blue jackets can disappear in that way, like musk-rats? But no such thing. When the captain in command at the station hails on board, every man and boy of the crew, from the powder-monkey to the first-lieutenant, are mustered in pipe-clay on the quarter-deck, and there, with the ship's commission in his hand, every one must report himself as he calls over the names. "Then the captain will tell the simple truth." "Well, you see, truth has nothing at all to do with the rules of the service, the questions printed in the orderly-book only will be asked, and he may not have an opportunity of stating the facts of the case; besides, discipline on board a ship in commission could not be maintained if irregularities could be patched up by a few words from the captain. When it is found that I had been left on shore, the questions will be, 'Was the _Nelson_ in want of repairs?' 'No.' 'Did she require water?' 'No.' 'Provisions?' 'No.' 'Then Willis has deserted?' 'Yes.' And his condemnation will follow as a matter of course." "In that case, the Captain would be more to blame than you are." "So he would, and it is for that reason I hope he will be able to show by the log that I was seized with cholera, tied up in a sack, and duly thrown overboard with a four-pound shot for ballast." "I cannot conceive," said Becker, "that the discipline of any service can be so cruelly unreasonable as you would have us believe." "No, perhaps you think that just before the anchor is heaved, and the ship about to start on a long voyage, the cabin boys are asked whether they have the colic--that lubbers, who wish to back out have only to say the word, and they are free--that the pilot may go a-hunting if he likes, and that the officers may stay on shore and amuse themselves in defiance of the rules of the service? In that case the navy would be rather jolly, but not much worth." When Willis was once fairly started there was no stopping him. "Dead," he continued; "that is to say, without a berth, pay, or even a name, nothing! My wife will have the right to marry again, my little Susan will have another father, and I shall only be able to breathe by stealth, and to consider that as more than I deserve. You must admit that all this is rather a poor look-out a-head." "Really, Willis," said Mrs. Wolston, "you seem to take a pride in making things worse than they are, conjuring up phantoms that have no existence." "It is true, madam. I may be going upon a wrong tack. Judging from all appearances, the sloop, instead of being on her way to the Cape, is tranquilly reposing at the bottom of the sea. But it is only death for death; hanged by a court-martial or drowned with the sloop, it comes, in the end, to the same thing." "I dare say, Willis, had there really been an accident, and you had been on board, you would not have felt yourself entitled to escape?" "Certainly not, madam; unless the crew could be saved, it would look anything but well for the pilot to escape alone." Willis, however, to do him justice, seemed trying to smother his grief; and, in the meanwhile, the two girls had been spreading a pure white cloth on a neighboring rock, cutting fruit plates out of the thick mangoe leaves, cooling the Rockhouse malaga in the brook, and giving to the repast an air of elegance and refinement which had the effect of augmenting the appetite of the company. The viands were not better than they had been on many similar occasions, but they were now more artistically displayed, and consequently more inviting. Who has not remarked, in passing through a street of dingy-looking houses, one of them distinguished from the others by its fresh and cheerful aspect, the windows garnished with a luxuriant screen of flowers, with curtains on either side of snowy whiteness and elaborate workmanship? Very likely the passer-by has asked himself, Why is this house not as neglected, tattered, and dirty as its wretched neighbors? The answer is simple; there dwells in this house a young girl, blithe, frolicsome, and joyous, singing with the lark, and, like a butterfly, floating from her book to her work-box--from her mother's cheek to her father's, leaving an impress of her youthfulness and purity on whatever she touches. For a like reason the _al fresco_ dinner of this day had a charm that no such feast had been observed to possess before. "We are not presentable," said Fritz, referring to his seal-gut uniform. "Ah," replied Mrs. Wolston, "it is your costume of war, brave knights; and, for my part, I admire you more in it than in the livery of Hyde Park or Bond Street." "In that case," said Ernest, "we shall do as they do in China." "And what is that?" "Well, the most profound remark of respect a host can pay to his guests, is to go and dress after dinner." "Just when they are about to leave?" "Exactly so, madam." "That is very decidedly a Chinese observance. Are they not somewhat behind in cookery?" "By no means, madam; on the contrary, they have attained a very high degree of perfection in that branch of the arts. It is customary, at every ceremonious dinner, to serve up fifty-two distinct dishes. And when that course is cleared off, what do you think is produced next?" "The dessert, I suppose." "Eight kinds of soup, never either one more or one less. If the number were deficient, the guests would consider themselves grossly insulted, the number of dishes denoting the degree of respect entertained by the host for his guests." "I beg, Mrs. Wolston," said Mrs. Becker laughing, "that you will not estimate our esteem for you by the dinner we offer you." "Well," replied Mrs. Wolston in the same tone, "let me see; to be treated as we ought to be, there are fifty-seven dishes wanting, therefore we must go and dine at home. John, call my carriage." At this sally they all laughed heartily, and even Willis chimed in with the general hilarity. "Then, after the soups," continued Ernest, "comes the tea, and with that the dessert, as also sixty square pieces of silver paper to wipe the mouth. It is then that the host vanishes, to reappear in a brilliant robe of gold brocade and a vest of satin." "These people ought all to perish of indigestion." "No; they are moderate eaters, their dishes consist of small saucers, each containing only a few mouthfuls of meat, and, as for Europeans, the want of forks and spoons--" "What! have they no forks?" "Not at table--nor knives either; but, on the other hand, they are exceedingly expert in the use of two slender sticks of ivory, which they hold in the first three fingers of the right hand, and with which they manage to convey solids, and even liquids, to their mouths." "Ah! I see," said Jack; "the Europeans would be obliged, like Mrs. Wolston, to call their carriage, in spite of the fifty-two saucers of meat: it puts me in mind of the stork inviting the fox to dine with her out of a long-necked jar." "We are apt to judge the Chinese by the pictures seen of them on their own porcelain, and copied upon our pottery," said Becker; "but this conveys only a ludicrous idea of them. They are the most industrious, but at the same time the vainest, most stupid, and most credulous people in the world; they worship the moon, fire, fortune, and a thousand other things; people go about amongst them selling wind, which they dispose of in vials of various sizes." "That is a trade that will not require an extraordinary amount of capital." "True; and besides, as they carry on their trade in the open air, they have no rent to pay." "Their bonzes or priests," continued Becker, "to excite charity, perambulate the streets in chains, sometimes with some inflammable matter burning on their heads, whilst, instead of attempting to purify the souls of dying sinners, they put rice and gold in their mouths when the vital spark has fled. They have a very cruel mode of punishing renegade Lamas: these are pierced through the neck with a red-hot iron." "What is a Lama, father?" "It is a designation of the Tartar priests." For some time Willis had been closely examining a particular point in the bay with increasing anxiety; at last he ran towards the shore and leapt into the sea. Becker and his four sons were on the point of starting off in pursuit of him. "Stop," said Wolston, "I have been watching Willis's movements for the last ten minutes, and I guess his purpose--let him alone." Willis swam to some object that was floating on the water, and returned in about a quarter of an hour, bringing with him a plank. "Well," he inquired, on landing, "was I wrong?" "Wrong about what?" inquired Wolston. "The _Nelson_ is gone." "The proof, Willis." "That plank." "Well, what about the plank?" "I recognise it." "How, Willis?" "How! Well," replied the obstinate pilot, "fish don't breed planks, and--and--I scarcely think this one could escape from a dockyard, and float here of its own accord." "Then, Willis, according to you, there are no ships but the _Nelson_, no ships wrecked but the _Nelson_, and no planks but the _Nelson's_. Willis, you are a fool." "Every one has his own ideas, Mr. Wolston." Towards evening, when they were on their way back to Rockhouse, Sophia confidentially called Willis aside, and he cheerfully obeyed the summons. "Pilot," said she, "I have made up my mind about one thing." "And what is that, Miss Sophia?" "Why, this--in future, when we are alone, as just now, you must call me Susan, as you used to call your own little girl when at home, not Miss Susan." "Oh, I cannot do that, Miss Sophia." "But I insist upon it." "Well, Miss Sophia, I will try." "What did you say?" "Miss Sus--" "What?" "Susan, I mean." "There now, that will do." CHAPTER V. ALLOTMENT OF QUARTERS--A HORSE MARINE--TRAVELLING PLANTS--CHANGE OF DYNASTY IN ENGLAND--A WOMAN'S KINGDOM--SHEEP CONVERTED INTO CHOPS--RESURRECTION OF THE FRIED FISH--A SECRET. After some days more of anxious but fruitless expectation, it was finally concluded that either the _Nelson_ had sailed for the Cape, or, as Willis would have it, she had gone to that unexplored and dread land where there were neither poles nor equator, and whence no mariner was ever known to return. It was necessary, therefore, to make arrangements for the surplus population of the colony--whether for a time or for ever, it was then impossible to say. At first sight, it might appear easy enough to provide accommodation for the eleven individuals that constituted the colony of New Switzerland. It is true that land might have been marked off, and each person made sovereign over a territory as large as some European kingdoms; but these sovereignties would have resembled the republic of St. Martin--there would have been no subjects. What, then, would they have governed? it may be asked. Themselves, might be answered; and it is said to be a far more difficult task to govern ourselves than to rule others. Though space was ample enough as regards the colony in general, it was somewhat limited as regards detail. To live _pêle-mêle_ in Rockhouse was entirely out of the question. Independently of accommodation, a thousand reasons of propriety opposed such an arrangement. Whether or not there might be another cave in the neighborhood, hollowed out by Nature, was not known; if there were, it had still to be discovered. Chance would not be chance, if it were undeviating and certain in its operations. To consign the Wolstons to Falcon's Nest or Prospect Hill, and leave them there alone, even though under the protection of Willis, could not be thought of; they knew nothing of the dangers that would surround them, and as yet they were ignorant of the topography of the island. It was, therefore, requisite that both families should continue in proximity, so as to aid each other in moments of peril, but without, at the same time, outraging propriety, or shackling individual freedom of action. Under ordinary circumstances, these difficulties might have been solved by taking apartments on the opposite side of the street, or renting a house next door. But, alas! the blessings of landlords and poor-rates had not yet been bestowed on the island. One day after dinner, when these points were under consideration, Willis, who was accustomed to disappear after each meal, no one knew why or whereto, came and took his place amongst them under the gallery. "As for myself," said the Pilot, "I do not wish to live anywhere. Since I am in your house, Mr. Becker, and cannot get away honestly for a quarter of an hour, I must of course remain; but as for becoming a mere dependant on your bounty, that I will not suffer." "What you say there is not very complimentary to me," said Mr. Wolston. "Your position, Mr. Wolston, is a very different thing: besides, you are an invalid and require attention, whilst I am strong and healthy, for which I ought to be thankful." "You are not in my house," replied Becker "any more than I am in yours; the place we are in is a shelter provided by Providence for us all, and I venture to suppose that such a host is rich enough to supply all our wants. I am only the humble instrument distributing the gifts that have been so lavishly bestowed on this island." "What you say is very kind and very generous," added Willis, "but I mean to provide for myself--that is my idea." "And not a bad one either," continued Becker; "but how? You are welcome here to do the work for four--if you like; and then, supposing you eat for two, I will be your debtor, not you mine." "Work! and at what? walking about with a rifle on my shoulder; airing myself, as I am doing now under your gallery, in the midst of flowers, on the banks of a river: or opening my mouth for quails to jump down my throat ready roasted--would you call that work?" "Look there, Willis--what do you see?" "A bear-skin." "Well, suppose, by way of a beginning, I were to introduce you to a fine live bear, with claws and tusks to match, ready to spring on you, having as much right to your skin as you have to his--now, were I to say to you, I want that animal's skin, to make a soft couch similar to the one you see yonder, would you call that work?" "Certainly, Mr. Becker." "Very good, then; it is in the midst of such labors that we pass our lives. Before we fell comfortably asleep on feather beds, those formidable bones which you see in our museum were flying in the air; the cup which I now hold in my hand was a portion of the clay on which you sit; the canoe with which you ran away the other day was a live seal; the hats that we wear, were running about the fields in the form of angola rabbits. So with everything you see about you; for fifteen years, excepting the Sabbath, which is our day of rest and recreation as well as prayer, we have never relapsed from labor, and you are at liberty to adopt a similar course, if you feel so disposed." "No want of variety," said Jack; "if you do not like the saw-pit, you can have the tannery." "Neither are very much in my line," replied Willis. "What then do you say to pottery?" "I have broken a good deal in my day." "Yes, but there is a difference between breaking it and making it." "What appears most needful," remarked Fritz, "is, three or four acres of fresh land, to double our agricultural produce." "Is land dear in these parts?" inquired Mrs. Wolston, smiling. "It is not to be had for nothing, madam; there is the trouble of selecting it." "And the labor of rendering it productive," added Ernest. "But how do you manage for a lawyer to convey it?" "I was advising Ernest to adopt that profession," said Mrs. Becker; "wills and contracts would be in harmony with his studious temperament." "At present, the question before us," said Becker, "is the allotment of quarters; in the meantime, Mr. and Mrs. Wolston, with the young ladies, will continue to occupy our room." "No, no," said Wolston "that would be downright expropriation." "In that case the matter comes within the sphere of our lawyer, and I therefore request his advice." To this Ernest replied, by slowly examining his pockets; after this operation was deliberately performed, he said, in a _nisi prius_ tone, "That he had forgotten his spectacles, and consequently that it was impossible for him to look into the case in the way its importance demanded, otherwise he was quite of the same opinion as his learned brother--his father, he meant." "And what if we refuse?" said Mrs. Wolston. "If you refuse, Mrs. Wolston, there is only one other course to adopt." "And what is that, Master Frank?" "Why, simply this," and rising, he cried out lustily, "John, call Mrs. Wolston's carriage." "Ah, to such an argument as that, there can be no reply; so I see you must be permitted to do what you like with us." "Very good," continued Becker; "then there is one point decided: my wife and I will occupy the children's apartment." "And the children," said Jack, "will occupy the open air. For my own part, I have no objection: that is a bedroom exactly to my taste." "Spacious," remarked Ernest. "Well-aired," suggested Fritz. "Hangings of blue, inlaid with stars of gold," observed Frank. "Any thing else?" inquired Becker. "No, father, I believe the extent of accommodation does not go beyond that." "Therefore I have decided upon something less vast, but more comfortable for you; you will go every night to our _villa_ of Falcon's Nest." "On foot?" "On horseback, if you like and under the direction of Willis, whom I name commander-in-chief of the cavalry." "Of the cavalry!" cried the sailor; "what! a pilot on horseback?" "Do not be uneasy, Willis," replied Jack, "we have no horses." "Ah, well, that alters the case." "But then we have zebras and ostriches." "Ostriches! worse and worse." "Say not so, good Willis; when once you have tried Lightfoot or Flyaway, you would never wish to travel otherwise: they run so fast that the wind is fairly distanced, and scarcely give us time to breathe--it is delightful." "Thank you, but I would rather try and get the canoe to travel on land." "Ah, Willis," said Fritz, "that would be an achievement that would do you infinite credit--if you only succeed." "Will you allow me to make a request, Mrs. Becker?" "Listen to Willis," said Jack, "he has an idea." "The request I have to urge is, that you will permit me to encamp on Shark's Island, and there establish a lighthouse for the guidance of the _Nelson_, in case she should return." "What! the commander-in-chief of cavalry on an island?" "No, not of the cavalry, but of the fleet; it is only necessary for Mr. Becker to change my position into that of an admiral, which will not give him much extra trouble." "I shall do so with pleasure, Willis." "In that case, since I am an admiral, the first thing I shall do, is to pardon myself for the faults I committed whilst I was a pilot." "Capital!" said Ernest, "that puts me in mind of Louis XII., who, on ascending the throne, said that it was not for the King of France to revenge the wrongs of the Duke of Orleans." "What, then, is to become of the boys? I intended to make you their compass--on land, of course." "The boys," cried the latter, "are willing to enlist as seamen, and accompany the admiral on his cruise." "You will spin yarns for us, Willis, will you not?" "Well, my lads, if you want a sleeping dose, I will undertake to do that." "But there are objections to this arrangement," Mrs. Becker hastily added. "What are they, mother?" "In the first place, a storm might arise some fine night--one of those dreadful hurricanes that continue several days, like the one that terrified us so much lately--and then all communication would be cut off between us." "You could always see one another." "How so, Willis?" "From a distance--with the telescope." "Then," continued Mrs. Becker, "you would be a prey to famine, for though the telescope, good Master Willis, might enable you to see our dinner--from a distance--I doubt whether that would prevent you dying of starvation." "We might easily guard against that, by taking over a sufficient quantity of provisions with us every night, and bringing them back next morning." "But could you carry over my kisses, Willis, and distribute them amongst my children every morning and evening, like rations of rice?" "If the arrangement will really make you uneasy, Mrs. Becker, I give it up," said Willis, polishing with his arm the surface of his oil-skin sou'-wester. "Not at all, Willis. It is for me to give up my objections. Besides, I observe Miss Sophia staring at me with her great eyes; she will never forgive me for tormenting her sweetheart." "Ah! since I have been staring at you, I have only now to eat you up like the wolf in Little Red Ridinghood," and in a moment her slender arms were clasped round Mrs. Becker's neck. "Good," said Becker, "there is another point settled--temporarily." "In Europe," observed Wolston, "there is nothing so durable as the temporary." "In Europe, yes, but not here. To-morrow morning we shall select a tree near Falcon's Nest, and in eight days you shall be permanently housed in an aerial tenement close to ours, so that we may chat to each other from our respective balconies." "That will be a castle in the air a little more real than those I have built in Spain." "Then you have been in Spain, papa?" "Every one has been less or more in the Spain I refer to. Sophy--it is the land of dreams." "And of castanets," remarked Jack. "Then my sweetheart will be alone on his island, like an exile?" "No, Miss Sophia, we are incapable of such ingratitude. After enjoying the hospitality of Willis in Shark's Island, he will surely deign to accept ours at Falcon's Nest; so, whether here or there, he shall always have four devoted followers to keep him company." The Pilot shook Fritz by the hand, at the same time nearly dislocating his arm. "I wonder why God, who is so good, has not made houses grow of themselves, like pumpkins and melons?" said Ernest. "Rather a lazy idea that," said his father; "our great Parent has clearly designed that we should do something for ourselves; he has given us the acorn whence we may obtain the oak." "Nevertheless, there are uninhabited countries which are gorged with vegetation--the territory we are in, for example." "True; but still no plant has ever sprung up anywhere without a seed has been planted, either by the will of God or by the hands of man. With regard, however, to the distribution of vegetation in a natural state, that depends more upon the soil and climate than anything else; wherever there is a fertile soil and moist air, there seeds will find their way." "But how?" "The seeds of a great many plants are furnished with downy filaments, which act as wings; these are taken up by the wind and carried immense distances; others are inclosed in an elastic shell, from which, when ripe, they are ejected with considerable force." "The propagation of plants that have wings or elastic shells may, in that way, be accounted for; but there are some seeds that fall, by their own weight, exactly at the foot of the vegetable kingdom that produces them." "It is often these that make the longest voyages." "By what conveyance, then?" "Well, my son, for a philosopher, I cannot say that your knowledge is very profound; seeds that have no wings borrow them." "Not from the ant, I presume?" "No, not exactly; but from the quail, the woodcock, the swallow, and a thousand others, that are apparently more generous than the poor ant, to which Æsop has given a reputation for avarice that it will have some trouble to shake off. The birds swallow the seeds, many of which are covered with a hard, horny skin, that often resists digestion; these are carried by the inhabitants of the air across rivers, seas, and lakes, and are deposited by them in the neighborhood of their nests--it may be on the top of a mountain, or in the crevice of a rock." "True, I never thought of that." "There are a great many philosophers who know more about the motions of stars than these humbler operations of Nature." "You are caught there," said Jack. "There are philosophers, too, who can do nothing but ridicule the knowledge of others." "Caught you there," retaliated Ernest. "It was in this way that a bird of the Moluccas has restored the clove tree to the islands of this archipelago, in spite of the Dutch, who destroyed them everywhere, in order that they might enjoy the monopoly of the trade." "Still, I must fall back upon my original idea; by sowing a brick, we ought to reap a wall." "And if a wall, a house," suggested another of the young men. "Or if a turret, a castle," proposed a third. "Or a hall to produce a palace," remarked the fourth. "There are four wishes worthy of the four heads that produced them! What do you think of those four great boys, Mrs. Wolston?" "Well, madam, as they are wishing, at any rate they may as well wish that chinchillas and marmots wore their fur in the form of boas and muffs, that turkeys produced perigord pies, and that the fish were drawn out of the sea ready roasted or boiled." "Or that the sheep walked about in the form of nicely grilled chops," suggested Becker. "And you, young ladies, what would you wish?" Mary, who was now beyond the age of dolls, and was fast approaching the period of young womanhood, felt that it was a duty incumbent upon her to be more reserved than her sister, and rarely took part in the conversation, unless she was directly addressed, ceased plying her needle, and replied, smiling, "I wish I could make some potent elixir in the same way as gooseberry wine, that would restore sick people to health, then I would give a few drops to my father, and make him strong and well, as he used to be." "Thank you for the intention, my dear child." "And you, Miss Sophia? It is your turn." "I wish that all the little children were collected together, and that every papa and mamma could pick out their own from amongst them." Here Willis took out his pocket-handkerchief and appeared to be blowing his nose, it being an idea of his that a sailor ought not to be caught with a tear in his eye. "Now then, Willis, we must have a wish from you." "I wish three things: that there had not been a hurricane lately, that canoes could be converted into three masters, and that Miss Sophia may be Queen of England." "Granted," cried Jack. And laying hold of a wreath of violets that the young girl had been braiding, he solemnly placed it on her head. "You will make her too vain," said Mrs. Wolston. "Ah mamma, do not scold," and gracefully taking the crown from her own fair curls, she placed it on the silvery locks of her mother; "I abdicate in your favor, and, sweetheart, I thank you for placing our dynasty on the throne. Mary, you are a princess." "Yes," she replied, "and here is my sceptre," holding up her spindle. "Well answered, my daughter, that is a woman's best sceptre, and her kingdom is her house." "Our conversation," said Becker, "is like those small threads of water which, flowing humbly from the hollow of a rock, swell into brooks, then become rivers, and, finally, lose themselves in the ocean." "It was Ernest that led us on." "Well, it is time now to get back to your starting-point again. God has said that we shall earn our bread by the sweat of our brow, and consequently that our enjoyments should be the result of our own industry; that is the reason that venison is given to us in the form of the swift stag, and palaces in the form of clay; man is endowed with reason, and may, by labor, convert all these blessings to his use." "Your notion," said Mr. Wolston, "of drawing the fish out of the sea ready cooked, puts me in mind of an incident of college life which, with your permission, I will relate." "Oh yes, papa, a story!" "There was at Cambridge, when I was there, a young man, who, instead of study and sleep, spent his days and nights in pistol practice and playing on the French horn, much to the annoyance of an elderly maiden lady, who occupied the apartments that were immediately under his own." "These are inconveniences that need not be dreaded here." "Our police are too strict." "And our young men too well-bred," added Mrs. Wolston. "Not only that," continued Mr. Wolston, "this young student, who never thought of study, had a huge, shaggy Newfoundland dog, and the old lady possessed a chubby little pug, which she was intensely fond of; now, when these two brutes happened to meet on the stairs, the large one, by some accident or other, invariably sent the little one rolling head over heels to the bottom; and, much to the horror of the old lady, her favorite, that commenced its journey down stairs with four legs, had sometimes to make its way up again with three." "I always understood that dogs were generous animals, and would not take advantage of an animal weaker than themselves; our dogs would not have acted so." "Well, perhaps the dog was not quite so much to blame in these affairs as its master; besides, in making advances to its little friend, it might not have calculated its own force." "Yes, and perhaps might have been sorry afterwards for the mischief it had done." "Very likely; still the point was never clearly explained, and, whether or no, the elderly lady could not put up with this sort of thing any longer; she complained so often and so vigorously, that her troublesome neighbor was served in due form with a notice to quit. The young scapegrace was determined to be revenged in some way on the party who was the cause of his being so summarily ejected from his quarters. Now, right under his window there was a globe belonging to the old lady, well filled with good-sized gold fish. His eye by chance having fallen upon this, and spying at the same time his fishing-rod in a corner, the coincidence of vision was fatal to the gold-fish; they were very soon hooked up, rolled in flour, fried, and gently let down again one by one into the globe." "I should like to have seen the old lady when she first became aware of this transformation!" "Well, one of the fish had escaped, and was floating about, evidently lamenting the fate of its finny companions." "It was very cruel," observed Mary. "Elderly ladies who have no family and live alone are very apt to bestow upon animals the love and affection that is inherent in us all." "Which is very much to be deprecated." "Why so, Master Frank?" "Are there not always plenty of poor and helpless human beings upon whom to bestow their love? are there not orphans and homeless creatures whom they might adopt?" "There are; but it requires wealth for such benevolences, and the goddess Fortune is very capricious; whilst one must be very poor indeed that cannot spare a few crumbs of bread once a day. Besides, admitting that this mania is blamable when carried to excess, still it must be respected, for it behoves us to reverence age even in its foibles." Frank, whose nature was so very susceptible, that a single grain of good seed soon ripened into a complete virtue, bent his head in token of acquiescence. "Now the old lady loved these gold-fish as the apples of her eyes, and her astonishment and grief, in beholding the state they were in, was indescribable." "And yet it was a loss that might have been easily repaired." "Ah, you think so, Jack, do you? If you were to lose Knips, would the first monkey that came in your way replace him in your affections?" "That is a very different thing--I brought Knips up." "No; it is precisely the same thing. She had the fish when they were very small, had seen them grow, spoke to them, gave each of them a name, and believed them to be endowed with a supernatural intelligence." "Therefore, I contend the student was a savage." "Not he, my friend, he was one of the best-hearted fellows in the world: hasty, ardent, inconsiderate, he resisted commands and threats, but yielded readily to a tear or a prayer. As soon as he saw the sorrowful look of the old woman, he regretted what he had done, and undertook to restore the inhabitants of the globe to life." "With what sort of magic wand did he propose to do that?" "All the inhabitants of the house had collected round the old lady and her globe, endeavoring to console her, and at the same time trying to account for the phenomenon; some ascribed the transformation to lightning, others went so far as to suggest witchcraft. Our scapegrace now joined the throng, took the globe in his hands, gravely examined his victims, and declared, with the utmost coolness that they were not dead. 'Not dead, sir! are you sure?' 'Confident, madam; it is only a lethargy, a kind of coma or temporary transformation, that will be gradually shaken off; I have seen many cases of the same kind, and, if proper care be taken as to air, repose, and diet, particularly as regards the latter, your fish will be quite well again to-morrow.'" "Did she believe that?" "One readily believes what one wishes to be true; besides, in twenty-four hours, all doubt on the subject would be at an end; added to which, the young man was ostensibly a student of medicine, and had the credit in the house of having cured the washerwoman's canary of a sore throat." "Well, how did he manage about the fish?" "Very simply; he went and bought some exactly the same size that were not in a lethargy; he then, at the risk of breaking his neck or being taken for a burglar, scaled the balcony, and substituted them for the defunct. Next morning, when he called to inquire after his patients, he found the old lady quite joyful." "Had she no doubts as to their identity?" "Well, one was a little paler and another was a trifle thinner, but she was easily persuaded that this difference might arise from their convalescence. The young man immediately became a great favorite; and the old lady would rather have shared her own apartments with him, than allow him to quit the house; he consequently remained." "What, then, became of the pistols and the French horn?" inquired Jack. "From that time on there sprung up a close friendship between the two; he was induced by her to convert his weapons of war into pharmacopoeas. Always, when she made some nice compound of jelly and cream, he had a share of it; he, on his side, scarcely ever passed her door without softening his tread; and both himself and his dog managed, eventually, to acquire the favor of the old lady's pug." "He appears to have been one of those medical gentlemen WHO profess to cure every conceivable disease by one kind of medicine." "And who generally contrive to remove both the disease and the patient at the same time." "You mistake the individual altogether; he is now one of the most esteemed physicians in London, remarkable alike for his skill and benevolence. It is even strongly suspected by his friends that he is not a little indebted for his present eminent position to his first patients--the canary and the gold-fish." It was now the usual hour for retiring to rest. After the evening prayer, which Mary and Sophia said alternately aloud, Willis and the four brothers prepared to start for Shark's Island, to pass their first night in the store-room and cattle-shed that had been erected there. Of course they could not expect to be so comfortable in such quarters as at Rockhouse or Falcon's Nest; but then novelty is to young people what ease is to the aged. Black bread appears delicious to those who habitually eat white; and we ourselves have seen high-bred ladies delighted when they found themselves compelled to dine in a wretched hovel of the Tyrol--true, they were certain of a luxurious supper at Inspruck. So grief breaks the monotony of joy, just as a rock gives repose to level plain. Whilst the pinnace was gradually leaving the shore, loaded with mattresses and other movables adapted for a temporary encampment, Jack signalled a parting adieu to Sophia, and, putting his fingers to his lips, seemed to enjoin silence. "All right, Master Jack," cried she. "What is all this signalling about?" inquired Mrs. Wolston. "A secret," said the young girl, leaping with joy; "I have a secret!" "And with a young man? that is very naughty, miss." "Oh, mamma, you will know it to-morrow." "What if I wanted to know it to-night?" "Then, mamma, if you insisted--that is--absolutely--" "No, no, child, I shall wait till to-morrow; keep it till then--if you can." "Sophia dear," said Mary to her sister, when their two heads, enveloped in snowy caps with an embroidered fringe, were reclining together on the same pillow, "you know I have always shared my _bon-bons_ with you." "Yes, sister." "In that case, make me a partner in your secret." "Will you promise not to speak of it?" "Yes, I promise." "To no one?" "To no one." "Not even to the paroquette Fritz gave you?" "No, not even to my paroquette." "Well, it is very likely I shall speak about it in my dreams--you listen and find it out." "Slyboots!" "Curiosity!" Like those delicate flowers that shrink when they are touched, each then turned to her own side; but it would have cost both too much not to have fallen asleep as usual, with their arms round each other's necks;--consequently this tiff soon blew over, and, after a prolonged chat, their lips finally joined in the concluding "Good-night." CHAPTER VI. THE QUEEN'S DOLL--ROCKHOUSE TO FALCON'S NEST--THE WIND--GLASSES--ADMIRAL HOMER--THE THREE FROGS--OAT JELLY--ESQUIMAUX ASTRONOMY--AN UNKNOWN. Next morning, Sophia came running in with a sealed letter in her hand, which she opened and read as follows:-- "HEAD QUARTERS, SAFETY BAY, DAYBREAK. "The Admiral commanding the Fleet stationed in Safety Bay to her Most gracious Majesty Sophia, Queen of Great Britain and Ireland. "May it please your Majesty, "The crews of your Majesty's yachts, the _Elizabeth_ and the _Morse_, are quite entire and in perfect health. The enemy having kept at a respectful distance, we have not had as yet an opportunity of proving our courage and devotion. Mr. Midshipman Jack fell asleep on the carriage of a four-pounder, like Marshal Turenne before his first battle; but, in all other respects, the conduct of the officers has been most exemplary, and merits the utmost commendation. "It is the admiral's intention to push out a reconnaissance towards the east, in the direction of Pearl Bay, which he has not yet explored. If, however, your Majesty should regard this expedition as likely to interfere with the good understanding that subsists between that government and your own, it will be only necessary to fire a gun, in which case we shall return to port. Under other circumstances, the squadron will proceed with the enterprise, and endeavor to obtain a collar for your Majesty's doll." "For my doll!" exclaimed Sophia angrily; "when did Jack find out that I had a doll?" "Is that, then, your secret?" inquired her mother. "Yes, mamma, Master Jack took a pigeon with him for the express purpose of playing me this trick." "And what is worse, included yourself in the conspiracy. Dreadful!" "Is it not--to speak of a young person of thirteen's doll?" "Say nearer fourteen, my dear." "Therefore, to punish your confederates, I shall fire a gun, and put a stop to their excursion," said Becker, turning to one of the six-pounders that flanked Rockhouse in the direction of the river. "Clemency being one of the dearest rights of the royal prerogative," replied Sophia, "I shall pardon them, and I pray you not; to throw any obstacle in the way of their expedition." "Very good, your Majesty; but there are state reasons which should be allowed to overrule the impulses of your heart; those gentlemen have forgotten that we were to go and lay the first stone, or rather to cut, to-day, the first branch of your aerial residence at Falcon's Nest." Admiral Willis and his officers having obeyed the preconcerted signal, the whole party started on their land enterprise. One of the young men was harnessed to a sledge, containing saws, hatchets, a bamboo ladder that had formerly done duty as a staircase to the Nest, and everything else requisite for the contemplated project. Jack had already started when Sophia called him back, and he hastily obeyed the summons. "What are your Majesty's commands?" "Oh, nothing particular, only should you meet my doll in company with your go-cart, be pleased to pay my respects to them." Saying this, she made a low curtsy, and turned her back upon him. "Your Majesty's behests shall be obeyed," said Jack, and he ran off to rejoin the caravan. The sad ravages of the tempest presented themselves as they proceeded; tall chestnuts lay stretched on the ground, and seemed, by their appearance, to have struggled hard with the storm. "After all," inquired Frank, "what is the wind?" "Wind is nothing more than air rushing in masses from one point to another." "And what causes this commotion in the elements?" "The equilibrium of the atmosphere is disturbed by a variety of actions;--the diurnal motion of the sun, whose rays penetrate the air at various points; absorption and radiation, which varies according to the nature of the soil and the hour of the day; the inequality of the solar heat, according to seasons and latitude; the formation and condensation of vapor, that absorbs caloric in its formation, and disengages it when being resolved into liquid." "I never thought," remarked Willis, "that there were so many mysteries in a sou'-easter. Does it blow? is it on the starboard or larboard? was all, in fact, that I cared about knowing." "In a word, the various circumstances that change the actual density of the air, making it more rarefied at one point than another, produce currents, the force and direction of which depend upon the relative position of hot and cold atmospheric beds. Again, the winds acquire the temperature and characteristics of the regions they traverse." "That," observed Frank, "is like human beings; you may generally judge, by the language and manners of a man, the places that he is accustomed to frequent." "There are hot and cold winds, wet and dry; then there are the trade winds." "Ah, yes," cried Willis, "these are the winds to talk of, especially when sailing with them--that is, from east to west; but when your course is different, they are rather awkward affairs to get ahead of. The way to catch them is to sail from Peru to the Philippines." "Or from Mexico to China." "Yes, either will do; then there is no necessity for tacking, you have only to rig your sails and smoke your pipe, or go to sleep; you may, in that way, run four thousand leagues in three months." "Stiff sailing that, Willis." "Yes, Master Ernest, but it does not come up to your yarn about the stars, you recollect, ever so many millions of miles in a second!" "The trade winds, I was going to observe," continued Becker, "that blow from the west coast of Africa, carry with them a stifling heat." "That might be expected," remarked Frank, "since they pass over the hot sands of the desert." "Well, can you tell me why the same wind is cooler on the east coast of America?" "Because it has been refreshed on crossing the ocean that separates the two continents?" "By taking a glass of grog on the way," suggested Willis. "Yes; and so in Europe the north wind is cold because it carries, or rather consists of, air from the polar regions; and the same effect is produced by the south wind in the other hemisphere." "It is for a like reason," suggested Ernest, "that the south wind in Europe, and particularly the south-west wind, is humid, and generally brings rain, because it is charged with vapor from the Atlantic Ocean." "How is it, father, that the almanac makers can predict changes in the weather?" "The almanac makers can only foresee one thing with absolute certainty, and that is, that there are always fools to believe what they say. A few meteorological phenomena may be predicted with tolerable accuracy; but these are few in number, and range within very narrow limits." "Their predictions, nevertheless, sometimes turn out correct." "Yes, when they predict by chance a hard frost on a particular day in January, it is just possible the prediction may be verified; out of a multitude of such prognostications a few may be successful, but the greater part of them fail. Their few successes, however, have the effect with weak minds of inspiring confidence, in defiance of the failures which they do not take the trouble to observe." "At what rate does the wind travel?" "The speed of the wind is very variable; when it is scarcely felt, the velocity does not exceed a foot a second; but it is far otherwise in the cases of hurricanes and tornados, that sweep away trees and houses. "And sink his Majesty's ships," observed Willis. "In those cases the wind sometimes reaches the velocity of forty-five yards in a second, or about forty leagues in an hour." "Therefore," remarked Jack, "the wind is a blessing that could very well be dispensed with." "Your conclusions, Jack, do not always do credit to your understanding. The wind re-establishes the equilibrium of the temperature, and purifies the air by dispersing in the mass exhalations that would be pernicious if they remained in one spot; it clears away miasma, it dissipates the smoke of towns, it waters some countries by driving clouds to them, it condenses vapor on the frozen summits of mountains, and converts it into rivers that cover the land with fruitfulness." "It likewise fills the sails of ships and creates pilots," observed Willis. "And brings about shipwrecks," remarked Jack. "It conveys the pollen of flowers, and, as I had occasion to state the other day, sows the seeds of Nature's fields and forests. It is likewise made available by man in some classes of manufactures--mills, for example." "And it causes the simoon," persisted Jack, "that lifts the sand of the desert and overwhelms entire caravans; how can you justify such ravages?" "I do not intend to plead the cause of either hurricanes or simoons; but I contend that, if the wind sometimes terrifies us by disasters, we have, on the other hand, to be grateful for the infinite good it does. In it, as in all other phenomena of the elements, the evils are rare and special, whilst the good is universal and constant." Fritz, as usual, with the dogs and his rifle charged, acted as pioneer for the caravan, now and then bringing down a bird, sometimes adding a plant to their collection, and occasionally giving them some information as to the state of the surrounding country. "Father," said he, "I chased this quail into our corn-field; the grain is lying on the ground as if it had been passed over by a roller, but I am happy to say that it is neither broken nor uprooted." "Now, Jack, do you see how gallantly the wind behaves, prostrating the strong and sparing the weak? If you had been charged with the safety of the grain, no doubt you would have placed it in the tops of the highest trees." "Very likely; and, until taught by experience, everybody else would have done precisely the same thing." "True; therefore in this, as in all other things, we should admire the wisdom of Providence, and mistrust our own." "Whoever would have thought of trusting the staff of human life to such slender support as stalks of straw?" "If grain had been produced by forests, these, when destroyed by war, burned down by imprudence, uprooted by hurricanes, or washed away by inundations, we should have required ages to replace." "Very true." "The fruits of trees are, besides, more liable to rot than those of grain; the latter have their flowers in the form of spikes, often bearded with prickly fibres, which not only protect them from marauders, but likewise serve as little roofs to shelter them from the rain; and besides, as Fritz has just told us, owing to the pliancy of their stalks, strengthened at intervals by hard knots and the spear-shaped form of their leaves, these plants escape the fury of the winds." "That," said Willis, "is like a wretched cock-boat, which often contrives to get out of a scrape when all the others are swamped." "Therefore," continued Becker, "their weakness is of more service to them than the strength of the noblest trees, and they are spread and multiplied by the same tempests that devastate the forests. Added to this, the species to which this class of plants belong--the grasses--are remarkably varied in their characteristics, and better suited than any other for universal propagation." "Which was remarked by Homer," observed Ernest "who usually distinguishes a country by its peculiar fruit, but speaks of the earth generally as _zeidoros_, or grain-bearing." "There, Willis," exclaimed Jack, "is another great admiral for you." "An admiral, Jack?" "It was he who led the combined fleets of Agamemnon, Diomedes, and others, to the city of Troy." "Not in our time, I suppose?" "How old are you, Willis?" "Forty-seven." "In that case it was before you entered the navy." "I know that there is a Troy in the United States, but I did not know it was a sea-port." "There is another in France, Willis; but the Troy I mean is, or rather was, in Asia Minor, capital of Lesser Phrygia, sometimes called Ilion, its citadel bearing the name of Pergamos." "Never heard of it," said Willis. "To return to grain," continued Becker, laughing. "Nature has rendered it capable of growing in all climates, from the line to the pole. There is a variety for the humid soils of hot countries, as the rice of Asia; immense quantities of which are produced in the basin of the Ganges. There is another variety for marshy and cold climates--as a kind of oat that grows wild on the banks of the North American lakes, and of which the natives gather abundant harvests." "God has amply provided for us all," said Frank. "Other varieties grow best in hot, dry soils, as the millet in Africa, and maize or Indian corn in Brazil. In Europe, wheat is cultivated universally, but prefers rich lands, whilst rye takes more readily to a sandy soil; buckwheat is most luxuriant where most exposed to rain; oats prefer humid soils, and barley comes to perfection on rocky, exposed lands, growing well on the cold, bleak plains of the north. And, observe, that the grasses suffice for all the wants of man." "Yes," observed Ernest, "with the straw are fed his sheep, his cows, his oxen, and his horses; with the seeds, he prepares his food and his drinks. In the north, grain is converted into excellent beer and ale, and spirits are extracted from it as strong as brandy." "The Chinese obtain from rice a liquor that they prefer to the finest wines of Spain." "That is because they have not yet tasted our Rockhouse malaga." "Then of roasted oats, perfumed with vanilla, an excellent jelly may be made." "Ah! we must get mamma to try that--it will delight the young ladies." "And, no doubt, you will profit by the occasion to partake thereof yourself, Master Jack." "Certainly; but I would not, for all that, seek to gratify my own appetite under pretence of paying a compliment to our friends." "I know an animal," said Willis, "that, for general usefulness, beats grain all to pieces." "Good! let us hear what it is, Willis." "It is the seal of the Esquimaux; they live upon its flesh, and they drink its blood." "I scarcely think," said Jack, "that I should often feel thirsty under such circumstances." "The skin furnishes them with clothes, tents, and boats." "Of which our canoe and life-preservers are a fair sample," said Fritz. "The fat furnishes them with fire and candle, the muscles with thread and rope, the gut with windows and curtains, the bones with arrow heads and harness; in short, with everything they require." "True, Willis, in so far as regards their degree of civilization, which is not very great, when we consider that they bury their sick whilst alive, because they are afraid of corpses; that they believe the sun, moon, and stars to be dead Esquimaux, who have been translated from earth to heaven." Whilst chatting in this way, the party had imperceptibly arrived at Falcon's Nest, wherein they had not set foot for a fortnight previously. Fritz went up first, and before the others had ascended, came running down again as fast as his legs would carry him. "Father," he cried, in an accent of alarm, "there is a fresh litter of leaves up stairs, which has been recently slept upon, and I miss a knife that I left the last time we were here!" CHAPTER VII. THE SEARCH FOR THE UNKNOWN--THREE FLEETS ON DRY LAND--THE INDISCRETIONS OF A SUGAR CANE--LARBOARD AND STARBOARD--THE SUPPOSED SENSIBILITY OF PLANTS--THE FLY-TRAP--VENDETTA--ROOT AND GERM--MINE AND COUNTERMINE--THE POLYPI--OVIPAROUS AND VIVIPAROUS--A QUID PRO QUO. "Have any of you been at Falcon's Nest lately?" inquired Becker, when he had verified the truth of Fritz's intelligence. "None of us," unanimously replied all the boys. "You will understand that the question I put to you is, under the circumstances in which we are placed, one of the greatest moment. If, therefore, there is any unseemly joking, any trick, or secret project in contemplation, with which this affair is connected, do not conceal it any longer." All the boys again reiterated their innocence of the matter in question. Becker then called to mind the mysterious disappearance of Willis, and, although they were too short in duration to admit of his having been at Falcon's Nest, still he deemed it advisable to put the question to him individually. Willis declared that the present was the first time he had been in the vicinity of the Nest, and his word was known to be sacred. "There can be no mistake then," said Becker; "the traces are self-evident. This is altogether a circumstance calculated to give us serious uneasiness. Nevertheless, we must view the matter calmly, and consider what steps we should take to unravel the mystery." "Let us instantly beat up the island," suggested Fritz. "It appears to me," remarked Willis, "that the _Nelson_ has been wrecked after all, and that one of the men has escaped." "That," replied Ernest, "is very unlikely. All the crew knew that the island was inhabited, and consequently, had any one of them been thrown on shore, he would have come at once to Rockhouse, and not stopped here." "As regards the Captain or Lieutenant Dunsley," said Willis, "who were on shore, and could easily find their way, what you say is quite true; but the men were kept on board; and if we suppose that a sailor had been thrown on the opposite coast, he would not be able to determine his position in fifteen days." "Much less could he expect to find a villa in a fig-tree." "To say nothing of the light that has been kept burning recently on Shark's Island, nor of the buildings with which the land is strewn, nor the fields and plantations that are to be met with in all directions. For, although a swallow alone is sufficient to convey the seeds of a forest from one continent to another, still it requires the hand of man to arrange the trees in rows and furnish them with props." "Perhaps we may have crossed each other on the way; and the stranger, after passing the night here, has steered, by some circuitous route, in the direction of Safety Bay." "May it not have been a large monkey," suggested Jack, "who has resolved to play us a trick for having massacred its companions at Waldeck?" "Monkeys," replied Ernest, "do not generally open doors, and, seeing no bed prepared for them, go down stairs and collect material for a mattress. You may just as well fancy that the monkey, in this case, came to pass the night at Falcon's Nest with a cigar in its mouth." "Then he must have been dreadfully annoyed to find neither slippers nor a night-cap." "There is, unquestionably, a wide field of supposition open for us," said Becker; "but that need not prevent us taking active measures to arrive at the truth. Our first duty is to care for the safety of the ladies; Mr. Wolston is still ailing and feeble, so that, if a stranger were suddenly to appear amongst them, they might be terribly alarmed." "There are six of us here," remarked Willis, "the cream of our sea and land forces; we could divide ourselves into three squadrons, one of which might sail for Rockhouse." "Just so; let Fritz and Frank start for Rockhouse." "And what shall we say to the ladies, father?" inquired the latter; "it does not seem to me necessary to alarm our mother, Mrs. Wolston, and the young ladies, until something more certain is ascertained." "Your idea is good, my son, and I thank you for bringing it forward; it is one of those that arise from the heart rather than the head." "We have, only to find a pretext for their sudden return," observed Ernest. "Very well," said Jack, "they have only to say it is too hot to work." "Just as if it were not quite as hot for us as for them. Your excuse, Jack, is not particularly artistic." "Might they not as well say they had forgotten a tool or a pocket handkerchief?" "Or, better still, that they had forgotten to shut the door when they left, and came back to repair the omission." "We shall say," replied Fritz, "that, finding there were twelve strong arms here to do what my father accomplished fifteen years ago by himself--for the assistance of us boys could not then be reckoned--we were ashamed of ourselves, and had returned to Rockhouse to make ourselves useful in repairing the damage to the gallery caused by the tempest." "Well, that excuse has, at least, the merit of being reasonable; and let it be so. Fritz and Frank will return to Rockhouse; Ernest and myself will continue the work in hand, and receive the friend or enemy which God has sent us, should he return to resume his quarters; Willis and Jack will investigate the neighborhood." "By land or water, Willis?" inquired Jack. "By land, Master Jack, for this cruise. I shall abandon the helm to you, for I know nothing of the shoals here-abouts." "If," continued Becker, "though highly improbable, any thing important should have happened, or should happen at Rockhouse, you will fire a cannon, and we will be with you immediately. Willis and Jack will discharge a rifle if threatened with danger; and we shall do the same on our side, if we require assistance." "It is a pity," remarked Jack, "that we had not two or three four-pounders amongst the provisions." "I scarcely regard this matter as altogether a subject for joking," continued Becker, "and sincerely hope that all our precautions may prove useless. Take each of you a rifle and proceed with caution; above all, do not go far apart from each other; do not fire without taking good aim, and only in case of self-defence or absolute necessity; for this time it does not appear to be a question of bears and hyenas, but, as far as we are able to judge, one of our own species." Two of the squadrons then hauled off in different directions, carefully examining the ground as they went, beating up the thickets, and endeavoring to obtain some further trace of the stranger, in order to confirm those at Falcon's Nest. The squadron of observation, in the meanwhile set diligently to work. A tree having been selected at about fifteen paces from that already existing, it was necessary, as on the former occasion, to discharge an arrow carrying the end of a line, and in such a way that the cord might fall across some of the strongest branches; this done, the bamboo ladder was drawn up from the opposite side and held fast until Ernest had ascended and fastened it with nails to the top of the tree. Ernest then commenced lopping off the branches to the right and left, so as to form a space in the centre for their contemplated dwelling; whilst Becker himself below was making an entrance into the trunk, taking care to avoid an accident that formerly happened, by assuring himself that a colony of bees had not already taken possession of the ground. The gigantic fig-trees at Falcon's Nest being for the most part hollow, and supported in a great measure by the bark--like the willows in Europe when they reach a certain stage of their growth--it was easy to erect a staircase in the interior; still this was a work of time, and Becker had resolved in the meantime to give up the habitation already constructed to Wolston and his family, at least until such time as an entrance was attached to the new one that did not require any extraordinary amount of gymnastics. [Illustration] A portion of the day had been occupied in these operations, when Willis and Jack returned to the camp. "We have seen no one," said the Pilot. "But," said Jack, "we are on the track of Fritz's knife." "Be good enough to explain yourself." "Well, father, at the entrance to the cocoa-nut tree wood we stumbled upon two sugar canes completely divested of their juice." "Which proves--" said Ernest; but his remark was cut short by Jack, who continued-- "Not a bit of it; a philosopher would have passed these two worthless sugar canes just as a place-hunter passes an overthrown minister, that is, as unworthy of notice." "And what did you do?" "Well, I, the headless, the thoughtless, the stupid--for these are the epithets I am usually favored with--I took them up, scrutinized them carefully, and discovered--" "That they were sugar canes." "In the first instance, yes." "Very clever, that!" "And then that they had not been torn up--_they had been cut_." "Is that all?" "Yes, most wise and learned brother, that is all; and I leave you to draw the inferences." "I may add," observed the sailor, "that, as we were steering for the plantation, myself on the starboard and Jack on the larboard--" "On the what?" "Master Jack on the left and myself on the right." "That I pitched right over these canes without ever noticing them." "Which is not much to be wondered at; Willis has been so long at sea that he has no confidence in the solidity of the land; during our cruise, he kept a look-out after the wind, expecting, I suppose, that it would perform some of the wonderful things you spoke of this morning." "After all," observed Becker, "this is another link in the chain of evidence, and I congratulate Jack on his sagacity in tracing it." "But the affair is as much a mystery as ever." "True; and the solution may probably be awaiting us at Rockhouse." The united squadrons then started on their homeward voyage, Jack thrusting his nose into every bush, and carefully scanning all the stray objects that seemed to be out of their normal position. "If these plants and bushes had tongues," said Jack, "they could probably give us the information we require." "Do you think," inquired Ernest, "that plants and bushes are utterly without sensation?" "Faith, I can't say," replied Jack; "perhaps they can speak if they liked--probably they have an idiom of their own. You, that know all languages, and a great many more besides, possibly can converse with them." "I should like to know," said Becker, "why you two gentlemen are always snarling at each other; it is neither amusing nor amiable." "Ernest is continually showing me up, father, and it is but fair that I should be allowed to retort now and then. But to return to plants, Ernest; you say they have nerves?" "If they have," said Willis, "they do not seem to possess the bottle of salts that most nervous ladies usually have." "No," replied Ernest, "they have no nerves, properly so called; but there are plants, and I may add many plants, which, by their qualities--I may almost say by their intelligence--seem to be placed much higher in the scale of creation than they really are. The sensitive plant, for example, shrinks when it is touched; tulips open their petals when the weather is fine, and shut them again at sunset or when it rains; wild barley, when placed on a table, often moves by itself, especially when it has been first warmed by the hand; the heliotrope always turns the face of its flowers to the sun." "A still more singular instance of this kind was recently discovered in Carolina," remarked Becker; "it is called the _fly-trap_. Its round leaves secrete a sugary fluid, and are covered with a number of ridges which are extremely irritable: whenever a fly touches the surface the leaf immediately folds inwards, contracts, and continues this process till its victim is either pierced with its spines or stifled by the pressure." "It is probably a Corsican plant," observed Jack, "whose ancestors have had a misunderstanding with the brotherhood of flies, and have left the _Vendetta_ as a legacy to their descendants." "There is nothing in Nature," continued Ernest, "so obstinate as a plant. Let us take one, for example, at its birth, that is, to-day, at the age when animals modify or acquire their instincts, and you will find that your own will must yield to that of the plant." "If you mean to say that the plant will refuse to play on the flute or learn to dance, were I to wish it to do so, I am entirely of your opinion." "No, but suppose you were to plant it upside down, with the plantule above and the radicle below; do you think it would grow that way?" "Plantule and radicle are ambitious words, my dear brother; recollect that you are speaking to simple mortals." "Well, I mean root uppermost." "Right; I prefer that, don't you, Willis?" "Yes, Master Jack." "At first the radicle or root would begin by growing upwards, and the plantule or germ would descend." "That is quite in accordance with my revolutionary idiosyncracies." "You accused me just now of using ambitious words." "Well, I understand a revolution to mean, placing those above who should be below." "Nature then," continued Ernest, "very soon begins to assert her rights; the bud gradually twists itself round and ascends, whilst the root obeys a similar impulse and descends--is not this a proof of discernment?" "I see nothing more in it than a proof of the wonderful mechanism God has allotted to the plant, and is analogous to the movements of a watch, the hands of which point out the hours, minutes, and seconds of time, and are yet not endowed with intelligence." "Very good, Jack," said Becker. "Suppose," continued Ernest, "that the ground in the neighborhood of your plant was of two very opposite qualities, that on the right, for example, damp, rich, and spongy; that on the left, dry, poor, and rocky; you would find that the roots, after growing for a time up or down, as the case might be, will very soon change their route, and take their course towards the rich and humid soil." "And quite right too," said Willis; "they prefer to go where they will be best fed." "If, then, these roots stretched out to points where they would withdraw the nourishment from other plants in the neighborhood--how could you prevent it?" "By digging a ditch between them and the plants they threaten to impoverish." "And do you suppose that would be sufficient?" "Yes, unless the plant you refer to was an engineer." "Therein lies the difficulty. Plants are engineers; they would send their roots along the bottom of the ditch, or they would creep under it--at all events, the roots would find their way to the coveted soil in spite of you; if you dug a mine, they would countermine it, and obtain supplies from the opposite territory, and revenge themselves there for the scurvy treatment to which they had been subjected. What could you do then?" "In that case, I should admit myself defeated." "If," continued Ernest, "we present a sponge saturated with water to the naked roots of a plant, they will slowly, but steadily, direct themselves towards it; and, turn the sponge whichever way you will, they will take the same direction." "It has been concluded," remarked Becker, "from these incontestable facts, that plants are not devoid of sensibility; and, in fact, when we behold them lying down at sunset as if dead, and come to life again next morning, we are forced to recognise a degree of irritability in the vegetable organs which very closely resemble those of the animal economy." "In future," said Jack, "I shall take care not to tread upon a weed, lost, being hurt, it should scream." "On the other hand, they have not been found to possess any other sign of this supposed sensibility. All their other functions seem perfectly mechanical." "Ah then, father," exclaimed Jack, "you are a believer in my system!" "We make them grow and destroy them, without observing anything analogous to the sensation we feel in rearing, wounding, or killing an animal." "But the fly-trap, father, what of that?" "It is no exception. The fly-trap seizes any small body that touches it, as well as an insect, and with the same tenacity; hence, we may readily conclude that these actions, so apparently spontaneous, are in reality nothing more than remarkable developments of the laws of irritability peculiar to plants." "It does not, then, spring from a family feud, as Jack supposed?" remarked Willis. "Besides," continued Becker, "if plants really existed, possessing what is understood by the term sensation, they would be animals." "For a like reason, animals without sensation would be plants." "Evidently. Moreover, the transition from vegetable to animal life is almost imperceptible, so much so, that polypi, such as corals and sponges, were for a long time supposed to be marine plants." "And what are they?" inquired Willis. "Insects that live in communities that form a multitude of contiguous cells; some of these are begun at the bottom of the sea and accumulated perpendicularly, one layer being continually deposited over another till the surface is reached." "Then the coral reefs, that render navigation so perilous in unknown seas, are the work of insects?" "Exactly so, Willis." "Might they not as well consist of multitudes of insects piled heaps upon heaps?" "It is in a great measure as you say, Willis." "Not I--I do not say it--quite the contrary." "Well, Willis, you are at liberty to believe it or not, as you think proper." "I hope so; we shall, therefore, put the polypi with Ernest's stars and Jack's admirals." "So be it, Willis; but to resume the subject. There is a remarkable analogy in many respects between the lower orders of animals and plants, the bulb is to the latter what the egg is to the former. The germ does not pierce the bulb till it attains a certain organization, and it remains attached by fibres to the parent substance, from which, for a time, it receives nourishment." "Not unlike the young of animals," remarked Willis. "When the germ has shot out roots and a leaf or two, it then, but not till then, relinquishes the parent bulb. The plant then grows by an extension and multiplication of its parts, and this extension is accompanied by an increasing induration of the fibres. The same phenomena are observed as regards animals." "Curious!" said Willis. "Animals, however, are sometimes oviparous." "Oviparous?" inquired Willis. "Yes, that is, they lay eggs; others are viviparous, producing their young alive. A few are multiplied like plants by cuttings, as in the case of the polypi." "Bother the polypi," said Willis, laughing, "since we have to thank them for destroying some of his Majesty's ships." "Then again," continued Becker, "both plants and animals are subject to disease, decay, and death." "But, father, if the analogies are remarkable, the differences are not less marked." "Well, Ernest, I shall leave you to point them out." "Without reckoning the faculty of feeling, that cannot be denied to the one nor granted to the other, the most striking of these distinctions consists in the circumstance that animals can change place, whilst this faculty is absolutely refused to plants." "If we except those," remarked Jack, "that insist upon travelling to the succulent parts of the earth, and are as indefatigable in digging tunnels as the renowned Brunel." "Then plants are obliged to accept the nourishment that their fixed position furnishes to them; whilst animals, on the contrary, by means of their external organs, can range far and near in search of the aliments most congenial to their appetites." "Which is often very capricious," remarked Willis. "Then, considered with regard to magnitude, the two kingdoms present remarkable distinctions; the interval between a whale and a mite is greater than between the moss and the oak." "Ho!" cried Jack, "there is Miss Sophia coming to meet us, Willis." "Perhaps they have news at the grotto." "Well," inquired the child, "have you seen them?" "Good," thought Becker, "our chatterers have not been able to hold their tongues; I am surprised at that as regards Frank." "We expected to have found them at Rockhouse." "To have found whom?" "The sailors from the wreck." "What wreck?" "The _Nelson_." "I sincerely hope that the _Nelson_ has not been wrecked." "In that case, whom do you refer to yourself, Miss Sophia?" "To your go-cart and my doll, Master Jack." CHAPTER VIII. HABITANT OF THE MOON, ANTHROPOPHAGIAN OR HOBGOBLIN?--THE LACEDEMONIAN STEW OF MADAME DACIER--UTILE DULCI--TETE-A-TETE BETWEEN WILLIS AND HIS PIPE--TOBACCO VERSUS BIRCH--IS IT FOR EATING?--MOSQUITOES--THE ALARM--TOBY--THE NOCTURNAL EXPEDITION--WE'VE GOT HIM. Some days passed without anything having occurred to ruffle the tranquil existence of the island families. Every morning the _élite_ of the sea and land forces continued to divide themselves into three squadrons of observation; one of which remained at Rockhouse on some pretext or other, whilst the other two were occupied in exploring the country, or in carrying on the works at Falcon's Nest. The mysterious stranger, whether shipwrecked seaman, savage, or hobgoblin, who kept all the bearded inhabitants of Rockhouse on the alert, had reappeared in his old quarters, where another litter of leaves had been miraculously strewn exactly in the same place the former had occupied. Beyond this, however, and sundry gashes here and there--of which Fritz's knife was clearly guilty, but which could not have been perpetrated without an accomplice--nothing had transpired to enable them to arrive at a satisfactory conclusion as to who or what this personage could be. Though the hypothesis was highly improbable, still Willis persisted in his theory of the shipwreck; he only doubted whether the individual on shore was a marine or the cabin-boy, an officer or a foremast man, and, if the latter, whether it was Bill, Tom, Bob, or Ned. Ernest rather inclined to think that the invisible stranger was an inhabitant of the moon, who, in consequence of a false step, had tumbled from his own to our planet. The warlike Fritz was impatient and irritated. He would over and over again have preferred an immediate solution of the affair, even were it bathed in blood, rather than be kept any longer in suspense. Frank, on the contrary, took a metaphysical view of the case; and, believing that Providence had not entirely dispensed with miracles in dealing with the things of this world, came to the conclusion that it was no earthly visitor they had to deal with; and he even went so far as to hint that prayer was a more efficacious means of solving the mystery than the methods his brothers were pursuing. Jack, coinciding in some degree with Ernest, shifted his view from an ape to an anthropophagian, and blamed the latter for not coming earlier; when he and his brothers were younger, and consequently more tender, they would have made a better meal, and been more easily digested. As to what opinion Becker himself entertained, with regard to the occurrence at Falcon's Nest that kept his sons in a feverish state of anxiety, and had awakened all the fears of the Pilot for the safety of his friends on board the _Nelson_, nothing could be clearly ascertained; in so far as this matter was concerned he kept his own counsel; and, to use an expression of Madame de Sevigné, "had thrown his tongue to the dogs." The close of the day had, as usual, collected all the members of the family round the domestic hearth; and it may be stated here that Mrs. Wolston, Mary, and Mrs. Becker alternately undertook the preparations of the viands for the diurnal consumption of the community. By this means, uniformity, that palls the appetite, was entirely banished from their dishes. One day they would have the cooked, or rather half-cooked, British joints of Mrs. Wolston and her daughter, varied occasionally, to the great delight of Willis, with a tureen of hotch-potch or cocky-leekie. The next there would be a display of the cosmopolite and somewhat picturesque cookery of Mrs. Becker; there was her famous peccary pie, with ravansara sauce, followed by her delicious preserved mango and seaweed jelly. Nor did she hesitate to draw upon the raw material of the colony now and then for a new hash or soup, taking care, however, to keep in view the maxim that prudence is the mother of safety--an adage that was rather roughly handled by the renowned French linguist, Madame Dacier, who, on one occasion nearly poisoned her husband with a Lacedemonian stew, the receipt for which she had found in Xenophon. Luckily Becker's wife did not know Greek, consequently he ran no risk of being entertained with a classic dinner; but he was often reminded by his thoughtful partner of Meg Dod's celebrated receipt: before you cook your hare, first--catch it. Sophia desired earnestly to have a share in the culinary government; but having shown on her first trial, too decided a leaning towards puddings and pancakes, her second essay was put off till she became more thoroughly penetrated with the value of the eternal precept _utile dulci_, which signifies that, before dessert it is requisite to have something substantial. As soon as they had finished their afternoon meal, Willis departed on one of his customary mysterious excursions; and Jack, who, like the birds that no sooner hop upon one branch than they leap upon another, had also disappeared. It was not long, however, before he made his appearance again; he came running in almost out of breath, and cried at the top of his voice, "I have discovered him!" "Whom?" exclaimed half a dozen voices. "The inhabitant of the moon?" inquired Ernest. "No." "I know," said Sophia playfully, "your go-cart and my doll." "No, I have discovered Willis' secret." "If you have been watching him, it is very wrong." "No, father; seeing some thin columns of smoke rising out of a thicket, I thought a bush was on fire; but on going nearer, I saw that it was only a tobacco-pipe." "Was the pipe alone, brother?" "No, not exactly, it was in Willis' mouth; and there he sat, so completely immersed in ideas and smoke, that he neither heard nor saw me." "That he does not smoke here," remarked Becker, "I can easily understand; but why conceal it?" "Ah," replied Mrs. Wolston, "you do not know Willis yet;--beneath that rough exterior there are feelings that would grace a coronet: he is, no doubt, afraid of leading your sons into the habit." "That is very thoughtful and considerate on his part." "He was always smoking on board ship, and it must have been a great sacrifice for him to leave it off to the extent he has done lately." "Then we shall not allow him to punish himself any longer; and as for the danger of contagion from his smoking here, that evil may perhaps be avoided." "Do not be afraid, father; it will not be necessary to establish either a quarantine or a lazaretto on our account." "Besides, any of the boys," said Mrs. Becker, "that acquire the habit, will, by so doing, voluntarily banish themselves from my levees." "It is an extraordinary habit that, smoking," observed Mrs. Wolston. "Yes," said Becker; "and what makes the habit more singular is, that it holds out no allurements to seduce its votaries. Generally, the path to vice, or to a bad habit, is strewn with roses that hide their thorns, but such is not the case with smoking; in order to acquire this habit, a variety of disagreeable difficulties have to be overcome, and a considerable amount of disgust and sickness must be borne before the stomach is tutored to withstand the nauseous fumes." "In point of fact," observed Wolston, "if, instead of being made part and parcel of the appliances of a fashionable man, cigars and meershaums were classed in the pharmacopoeia with emetics and cataplasms, there is not a human being but would bemoan his fate if compelled to undergo a dose." "Just so," added Becker; "the great and sole attraction of tobacco to young people consists in its being to them a forbidden thing; the apple of Eve is of all time--it hangs from every tree, and takes myriads of shapes. If I had the honor of being principal of a college I should no more think of forbidding the pupils to use tobacco than I should think of commanding them not to use the birch for purposes of self-chastisement." "Perhaps you would be quite right." "Instead of lecturing them on the pernicious effects of tobacco, I should hang up a pipe of punishment in the class-room, and oblige offending pupils to inhale a fixed number of whiffs proportionate to the gravity of their delinquency." "An excellent idea," observed Wolston; "for it is often only necessary to show some things in a different light in order to give them a new aspect and value. This puts me in mind of an illustration in point; these two girls, when children, were the parties concerned, and I will relate the circumstance to you." "In that case," said Mary, "I shall go and feed the fowls." "And I," said Sophia, "must go and water the flowers." "Oh, then," cried Jack laughing, "it is another doll story, is it?" "No, Master Jack, it is not a doll story; and, besides, we girls were no bigger at the time than that." On saying this Sophia placed her two hands about a foot and a half from the floor and then the two girls vanished. "When Mary was about six years old," began Wolston, "a slight rash threatened to develope itself, and the doctor ordered a small blister to be applied to one of her arms. Now, there was likely to be some difficulty about getting her to submit quietly to this operation, so, after an instant's reflection, I called both her and her sister, and told them that the most diligent of the two should have a vesicatory put on her arm at night. 'Oh,' cried both the girls quite delighted, 'it will be me, papa, I shall be so good. Mamma, mamma--such a treat--papa has promised us a vesicatory for to-night!'" "That was simplicity itself," said Mrs. Becker, laughing till the tears came into her eyes. "The day passed, the one endeavoring to excel the other in the quantity of leaves they turned over; and, from time to time, I heard the one asking the other in a low voice, 'Have you ever seen a vesicatory? What is it made of? Is it for eating? And each in turn regarded her arms, to judge in advance the effect of the marvellous ornament." "I should like much to have seen them." "Night came, and I declared gravely that the eldest was fairly entitled to the prize. The latter jumped about with joy, and Sophia began to cry. 'Don't cry,' said Mary, 'if you are good, papa will, perhaps, give you one to-morrow, too,' Then the joyful patient, turning to me, said, 'On which arm, papa?' and I told her that the ceremony of placing it on must take place when she was in bed. To bed accordingly she went, the ornament was applied, she looked at it, was pleased with it, thanked me for it, and fell asleep as happy as a queen. But, alas! like that of many queens, the felicity did not last long; before morning, I heard her saying to her sister, in a doleful tone, 'Soffy, will you have my vesicatory?' 'Oh, yes, just lend it to me for a tiny moment.' At this I hurried to the spot, and, as you may readily suppose, opposed the transfer." "Poor Sophia!" "Yes; she was quite heart-broken, and said, sobbing, 'It is always Mary that gets everything, nobody ever gives anything to me.'" Next day, Willis laid hold of his sou'-wester, and was starting off on his customary pilgrimage, when Becker stopped him. "Willis," said he, "have you any objections to state what the engagements are, that require you to leave us at pretty much the same hour every day?" "I merely go for a walk, Mr. Becker." "Ah!" "You see I require to take a turn just after dinner for the sake of my health." "A habit that you contracted on board ship; eh, Willis?" "On board ship; yes Mr. Becker, that is to say--" "Just so," observed Mrs. Wolston; "and by the way, Willis, I regret that you do not smoke now; they say there is plenty of tobacco on the island." "Smoke!" cried Willis, raising his ears like a war-horse at the sound of the trumpet, "why so, Mrs. Wolston?" "Because we are dreadfully tormented with those horrid mosquitoes, and you might help us to get rid of them. You smoked at sea, did you not?" "Yes, madam; but then my constitution--" "Bah!" said Wolston, "I thought you were as strong as a horse, Willis." "Well, I have no cause to complain neither; but then they say tobacco would kill even a horse." "Of course, Willis, your health is a most necessary consideration." "Still for all that, if the mosquitoes really do annoy Mrs. Wolston, I should have no objection to take a whiff now and then." "You must not put yourself about though, on our account, Willis." "About; no, it would not put me about." "Very good; then it only remains to be seen whether there is a pipe in the colony." "Ah," said Willis, feeling his pockets, "yes, exactly--here is one." "Curious how things do turn up, isn't it, Willis?" said Becker; "but the mosquitoes would not be frightened away by the smoke, if applied at long intervals, so you will have to repeat the dose at least two or three times every day, always supposing it does not affect your constitution." "Sailors, you see," replied Willis, "are like chimneys, they always smoke when you want them, and sometimes a great deal more than you want them," And on turning round, he beheld Sophia holding a light, and a good-sized case of Maryland, which had been preserved from the wreck. Ever after that time the mosquitoes had a most persevering enemy in Willis; and, notwithstanding his health, his daily walks entirely ceased. For some time the Pilot and the four young men passed the night in a tent erected about midway between Rockhouse and the Jackal River. The apparent reason for this modification of their plans was the greater facility it afforded for their all meeting at daybreak, breakfasting together, and setting out for Falcon's Nest before the temperature reached ninety degrees in the shade, which junction could not be so easily effected with one party encamped at Rockhouse and the other bivouacked on Shark's Island, with an arm of the sea between them. The real motive, however, was that all might be within hail of each other, and prepared for every emergency, in the event of the stranger appearing in a more palpable shape, and assuming a hostile attitude. We say the stranger, because, judging from the indications, there was only one--still that did not prove that there might not be several. One night, as Fritz was lying with one eye open, he observed Mary's little black terrier suddenly prick up the fragments of its ears, and begin sniffing at the edge of the tent. This shaggy little cur was called Toby; it had accompanied the Wolstons on their voyage, and was Mary's exclusive property; but Fritz had found the way to the animal's heart as usual through its stomach, and Mary was in no way jealous of his attentions to her favorite, but rather the reverse. Fritz, feeling convinced by the actions of the dog, which was of the true Scotch breed, that something extraordinary was passing outside the tent, seized his rifle, hastened out, and was just in time to distinguish a human figure on the opposite bank of the Jackal River, which, on seeing him, took to its heels and disappeared in the forest. He was soon joined by the Pilot and his brothers; the dogs leaped about them, and the alarm became general throughout the encampment. Fritz re-established order, enjoined silence, and said, "I am determined this time to follow the affair up; who will accompany me?" "I will!" said all the four voices at once. "Scouting parties ought not to be numerous," said Fritz; "I will, therefore, take Willis, in case this mystification has anything to do with the _Nelson_." "And me," said Jack, "to serve as a dessert, in case the individual should turn out to be an anthropophagian." "Be it so; but no more. Frank and Ernest will remain to tranquilize our parents, in case we should not return before they are up." "And if so, what shall we say?" "Tell them the truth. We shall proceed direct to Falcon's Nest; and if the stranger--confiding in our habit of sleeping during the night--be there as usual, we shall do ourselves the honor of helping him to get up." "Providing he does not nightly change his quarters like Oliver Cromwell--not so much to avoid enemies, as to calm his uneasy conscience." "Well, we shall be no worse than before; we shall have tried to restore our wonted quietude, and, if we fail, we can say, like Francis I. at Pavia, '_All is lost except our honor_.'" Some minutes after this conversation, three shadows might have been seen stealing through the glades in the direction of Falcon's Nest. Nothing was to be heard but the rustling of the leaves--the deafened beating of the sea upon the rocks--and, to use the words of Lamartine, "those unknown tongues that night and the wind whisper in the air." The trees were mirrored in the rays of the moon, and the ground, at intervals, seemed strewn with monstrous giants; their hearts beat, not with fear, but with that feverish impatience that anticipates decisive results. When they arrived at the foot of the tree on which the aerial dwelling was situated, Fritz opened the door, and resolutely, but stealthily, ascended. Willis and Jack followed him with military precision. They reached the top of the staircase, and held the latch of the door that opened into the apartment. A train of mice, in the strictest incognito, could not have performed these operations with a greater amount of secretiveness. On opening the door they stood and listened. Not a sound. Jack fired off a pistol, and the fraudulent occupier of the room instantly started up on his feet. Fritz rushed forward, and clasped him tightly round the body. "Ho, ho, comrade," said he, "this time you do not get off so easily!" CHAPTER IX. THE CHIMPANZEE--IMPERFECT NEGRO, OR PERFECT APE--THE HARMONIES OF NATURE--A HANDFUL OF PAWS--A STONE SKIN--SEVENTEEN THOUSAND SPECTACLES ON ONE NOSE--ANIMALCULÆ--PELION ON OSSA--PTOLEMY--COPERNICUS TO GALILEO--METAPHYSICS AND COSMOGONIES--ISAIAH--A LIVE TIGER. "The chimpanzé or chimpanzee," says Buffon, the French naturalist, "is much more sagacious than the _ourang outang_, with which it has been inaccurately confounded; it likewise bears a more marked resemblance to the human being; the height is the same, and it has the same aspect, members, and strength; it always walks on two feet, with the head erect, has no tail, has calves to its legs, hair on its head, a beard on its chin, a face that Grimaldi would have envied, hands and nails like those of men, whose manners and habits it is susceptible of acquiring." Buffon knew an individual of the species that sat demurely at table, taking his place with the other guests; like them he would spread out his napkin, and stick one corner of it into his button-hole just as they did, and he was exceedingly dexterous in the use of his knife, fork, and spoon. Spectators were not a little surprised to see him go to a bed made for him, tie up his head in a pocket-handkerchief, place it sideways on a pillow, tuck himself carefully in the bed-clothes, pretend to be sick, stretch out his pulse to be felt, and affect to undergo the process of being bled. The naturalist adds that he is very easily taught, and may be made a useful domestic servant, at least as regards the humbler operations of the kitchen; he promptly obeys signs and the voice, whilst other species of apes only obey the stick; he will rinse glasses, serve at table, turn the spit, grind coffee, or carry water. Add to his virtues as a domestic, that he is not much addicted to chattering about the family affairs, has no followers, and is very accommodating in the matter of wages. It was neither more nor less than a chimpanzee that Fritz had caught in the dark at Falcon's Nest. "Now then, old fellow," said he, "you will help us to clear up this mysterious affair." The caged stranger made no reply to this observation; Willis and Jack then questioned him, the one in English and the other in French. Still no reply. He did not submit, however, to be interrogated quietly; on the contrary, his struggles to get away were most vigorous, so much so that Fritz adopted the precaution of binding him. "If it had been one of our sailors," said Willis, "he would have recognized my voice long ago." "Who are you?" asked one. "Where do you come from?" inquired another. "Do not attempt to escape," said a third. "We mean you no harm; on the contrary, we are friends, disposed to do you good if we can." "If all his brothers and sisters are as talkative as himself," remarked Jack, "they must be a very amusing sort of people." "He can walk at all events," said Fritz giving him a smart push. The chimpanzee fell flat on the floor. "It appears, sir, that you are determined to have your own way, we must therefore wait till daylight." An hour passed in polyglot expostulations with the stranger on the score of his obstinacy, but all to no purpose; to use a popular expression, he was as dumb as the Doges. He deigned, however, to empty at a single draught a calabash of Malaga that Willis gave him, but there his condescension stopped. The Pilot, who now encountered mosquitoes in all directions, made preparations for smoking; the light he struck, however, instead of clearing up the mystery, only perplexed them more and more; there lay their new companion, stretched on the ground, staring at them with a ludicrous grin. If, on the one hand, it occurred to them this man was an animal, on the other the animal was a man, and Buffon did not happen to be there at the time to assign him officially a place in the former kingdom. The next difficulty that presented itself was, how they were to get him along; when they broke in the onagra, they ran a prong through his ear; in reducing the buffalo to subjection, they did not feel the slightest compunction in thrusting a pin through the cartilage of his nose; then, in order to give elasticity to the legs of the ostrich, they yoked him to two or three other animals, and, willing or unwilling, he was compelled ultimately to yield obedience to the lords of creation. But whether the creature before them was a lower order of negro or a higher order of ape, there was too great a resemblance between the captured and the capturers to admit of any of these methods of impulsion being adopted. It was, therefore, stretched on a plank, like a nabob in his palanquin, that the chimpanzee made his first appearance at Rockhouse. When the cavalcade arrived there, all the family, with the exception of Ernest and Frank, were still asleep. The first thing they did was to clothe the creature they had captured in a sailor's pantaloons and jacket, with which he seemed rather pleased, and the result of this operation was, that he began to assume a less ferocious aspect, and behave more respectfully towards his captors. All the family had sat down to breakfast, when Fritz and Jack, taking him by the hands, led him gravely into the gallery. A cord was attached to his legs, allowing him to walk, but was so arranged that he could not run. On his appearance the young girls fled at once; and, more accustomed to drawing-rooms than the rude realities of savage life, Mrs. Wolston's first impulse was to do the same. "Goodness gracious!" she cried with an air of alarm, "what horror is that?" "That, madam, is precisely what we have been anxious for the last two or three hours to find out," replied Fritz. "Does the creature speak?" "Up till now, madam," replied Willis, "he has only opened his mouth to swallow my calabash of Malaga; beyond that, he has kept as close as a purser's locker." When the first shock had passed, and the company had regained their self-possession, Jack related, with his customary originality, the incidents of the nocturnal expedition, of which Fritz was the originator, leader, and hero. The ladies then, for the first time, were made acquainted with the doubts, fears, perplexities, and battues, which, out of gallantry, they had hitherto been kept in ignorance of. Becker then, having carefully investigated the creature, pronounced it to be (as we already know) a full-grown specimen of a kind of ape, called by the Africans "the wild man of the woods," and by naturalists the _jocko_ or chimpanzee. "It is naturally very savage," added Becker; "but this individual seems already to have received some degree of education." As a proof of this, the chimpanzee seated himself amongst them very much at his ease; he scanned the faces surrounding him with an air of curiosity, and seemed to search for a particular countenance that it annoyed him not to find. Some fruit and nuts that were given him put him in excellent humor. "He has, without doubt, been on board some ship, wrecked on the coast," said Wolston, "for I recollect having read that his kindred are only found in Western Africa and the adjacent islands; do you not recognize him, Willis, to belong to the _Nelson_, like the plank of the other day?" "No, sir." "So much the better." "We do not ship such cattle on board his Majesty's ships," added the Pilot. The girls, ashamed of their fear, now came peeping in at the door, and, seeing that nobody had been devoured, took refuge by the side of their mother. "Look here, father," said Ernest, feeling the creature's crania, after having facetiously begged pardon for the liberty, "its head is precisely like our own; that is very humiliating." "Yes, my son, but his tongue and other organs are also exactly like ours, yet he cannot utter a word. His head is of the same form and proportion, but he does not for all that possess human intelligence. Is this not a very striking proof that mere matter, though perfectly organized, neither produces words nor thought; and that it requires a special manifestation of the Divine will to call these attributes into existence?" "True; but, father, some writers say that apes have been observed to profit by fires lighted in the forest, and have gone and warmed themselves when the travellers left." "That, my son, is instinct, nothing more; the operation of keeping up a fire, by throwing a few branches upon it, is exceedingly simple, but their instinct has never been known to rise to that amount of intelligence." "You recollect, father, that heathcock we saw some years ago displaying his glossy plumage to the dazzled hens; is that not a well-marked proof of coquetry? and is not this coquetry an indication of something more than mere instinct?" "You will permit me to believe, my son, at least till the contrary has been proved, that these actions to which you refer have nothing at all to do with coquetry. Those brilliant colors are designed for a purpose other than that which you suppose; they serve as signals to keep the community together, or, in other words, they are a common centre round which the hens may revolve." "The transition from apes to heathcocks," remarked Jack, "appears to me somewhat abrupt." "Not so abrupt as you think, Master Jack," said Wolston; "those who take the trouble to study Nature, observe an admirable gradation and easy progression from a simple to a complex organization. There is no race or species that is not connected by a perceptible link with that which precedes and that which follows." "What relation is there, for example," inquired Jack, "between an oyster and a horse?" "No immediate relation certainly, but there are intermediate links by which the two are brought together: they may be regarded, however, as the opposite extremes of the brotherhood--the two poles in the chain of existence. A horse bears even less resemblance to a turnip than to an oyster; a relationship may, nevertheless, be traced, step by step, between them, dissimilar as they are. There is the polypus, that singular product of Nature, which, regarded in one light, performs all the functions of animal life, whilst, when regarded in another, it has the ordinary attributes of a plant; does this not clearly and distinctly mark the transition from the vegetable to the animal kingdom? Again, certain species of worms blend the animal with the insect tribe, those which are covered with a horny substance unite them with the crustaceae. These approach fish on the one hand, and reptiles on the other, whilst reptiles in some species become moluscs." "And what is a molusc?" inquired Willis. "The term _molusc_ is applied by naturalists to creatures which have no vertebrae, as for example, the cuttle fish and the oyster." "I believe _you_, Mr. Wolston; but if I had asked Ernest or Jack, they would have told me that it was a commodore or an admiral." "Reptiles, I was going to say, are connected at one end of the chain with moluscs by the slug, and at the other with fish by the eel. From flying-fish to birds the transition is by no means abrupt. The ostrich, whose legs are like goat's, and runs rather than flies, connects birds with quadrupeds; these again return to fish through the cetacea." "Yes, but the interval between such creatures and man is still great." "True; to connect the two would be a process replete with insurmountable difficulties, and only possible to creative power. The projecting snout would have to be flattened, and the features of humanity imprinted upon it--that head bent upon the ground would have to be directed upwards--that narrow breast would have to be flattened out--those legs would have to be converted into flexible arms, and those horny hoofs into nimble fingers." "To accomplish which," remarked Frank, "God had only to say, 'Let it be so.'" "Assuredly; and as there is nothing incongruous in Nature, as everything is admirably adapted for its purpose, as unity of design is perceptible in all things, as every effect proceeds from a cause, and becomes a cause in its turn of succeeding effects, so God has willed that there should be a chain of resemblance running through all his works, and the link that connects man with the animal kingdom--the highest type of the mammiferous race, and the nearest approach to humanity amongst the brutes--is the creature before you." As if to illustrate this position, and prove his title to the place awarded him, the chimpanzee quietly laid hold of Mr. Wolston's straw hat and stuck it on his crispy head. "He is, perhaps, afraid of catching cold," said Jack, thrusting a mat under his feet. "Compare birds with quadrupeds," continued Mr. Wolston, "and you will find analogies at every step. Does the powerful and kingly eagle not resemble the noble and generous lion?--the cruel vulture, the ferocious tiger?--the kite, buzzard, and crow preying upon carrion, hyenas, jackals, and wolves? Are not falcons, hawks, and other birds used in the chase, types of foxes and dogs? Is the owl, which prowls about only at night, not a type of the cat? The cormorants and herons, that live upon fish, are they not the otters and beavers of the air? Do not peacocks, turkeys, and the common barn-door fowl bear a striking affinity to oxen, cows, sheep, and other ruminating animals?" During these remarks, Jack's monkey, Knips, had found its way into the gallery, and, observing the newcomer, went forward to accost him as if an old friend; the latter, however, uttered a menacing cry, and was about to seize Knips with evidently no amiable design, but was prevented by the cords that bound his legs. Knips leaped upon the back of one of the boys, and there, as if on the tower of an impregnable fortress, commenced making a series of grimaces at the chimpanzee, these being the only missiles within reach that he could launch at his relation. The enemy retorted, and kept up a smart fire of like ammunition. "It appears," remarked Mrs Wolston, "that apes are something like men: the great and the little do not readily amalgamate." "We must make them amalgamate," said Jack, taking one of Knips's paws, whilst Ernest held that of the chimpanzee; thus they compelled them to shake hands, but with what degree of cordiality we are unable to state. "You ought to oblige them now to take an oath of fealty," said Mrs. Wolston. "Chimpanzee," said Jack, speaking for Knips, "I promise always to treat you in future with smiles, delicacies, and respect." "Knips," replied the wild man of the woods, through the organs of Ernest, "I promise to have for you only the most generous intentions; to share with you the nuts I may have occasion to crack, that is, by giving you the shells and keeping the kernel; I promise, moreover, not to immolate you at the altar of my just rage, unless it is impossible for me to avoid an outburst of temper." "Now the embrace of peace." "Ah, madam," said Jack, "you must excuse that ceremony, their friendship is too new for such intimacy, and Knips don't much like being bitten." "Need we other proofs," remarked Becker, when the scene between the monkeys was concluded, "that everything has been premeditated, weighed, and calculated? It was necessary for that most arid country, Arabia, that we should have a sober animal, susceptible of existing a long time without water, and capable of treading the hot sands of the desert. God has accordingly given us the camel." "And the dromedary," remarked Ernest. "So everywhere," continued Becker; "and add to these evidences of Divine wisdom the brilliant colors, the silken furs, the golden plumage, and the ever-varying forms, yet, in all this diversity, there is unison--a harmony. Like the various objects which a clever artist introduces into his sketch, they are placed without uniformity, but still with reference to their effect upon each other, and so to the unity of the general design." "Therefore," remarked Ernest, "we have an animal whose skin is of stone, which it throws off annually to assume a new one--whose flesh is its tail and in its feet--whose hair is found inside in its breast--whose stomach is in its head, which, like the skin, is renewed every year, the first function of the new being to digest the old one." Here the Pilot manifested some symptoms of incredulity. "That is not all, Willis," continued Ernest, "the animal of which I speak carries its eggs in the interior of its body till they are hatched, and then transfers them to its tail. It has pebbles in its stomach, can throw off its limbs when they incommode it, and replace them with others more to its fancy. To finish the portrait, its eyes are placed at the tip of long flexible horns." "Do you really mean me to believe that yarn?" inquired Willis. "Yes, Willis, unless you intend to deny the existence of lobsters." "Lobsters! Ah! you are talking of them, are you!" "Have not," continued Ernest, "six thousand three hundred and sixty-two eyes been counted in one beetle? sixteen thousand in a fly? and as many as thirty-four thousand six hundred in a butterfly? Of course, facets understood." "Supposing these facets myope or presbyte," observed Jack, "that gives seventeen thousand three hundred and twenty-five pairs of spectacles on one nose!" "How wonderfully varied are the forms of Nature. If, from the mastodon and the fossil mammoth, to which Buffon attributes five or six times the bulk and size of the elephant, we descend to those animalculae, of which Leuwenhoek estimates that a thousand millions of them would not occupy the place of an ordinary grain of sand." Here Willis lost all patience and left the gallery, whistling as usual, under such circumstances, the "Mariner's March." "Malesieu has detected animals by the microscope twenty-seven times smaller than a mite. A single drop of water under this instrument assumes the aspect of a lake, peopled by an infinite multitude of living creatures." "Therefore," observed Wolston, "it is not the great works of Nature, or those of which the organization is most perfect, that alone presents to the mind of man the unfathomable mysteries of creation; atoms become to him problems, that utterly defy the utmost efforts of his intelligence." "Which," suggested Becker, "does not prevent us believing ourselves a well of science, nor hinder us from piling Pelion on Ossa to scale the skies." "What becomes, in the presence of these facts, of the metaphysics and cosmogonies that have succeeded each other for two thousand years? What of all the theories, from Ptolemy to Copernicus, from Copernicus to Galileo, Descartes and his zones, Leibnitz and his monads, Wolf and his fire forces, Maupertuis and his intelligent elements, Broussais, who, in his anatomical lectures, has oftener than once shown to his pupils, on the point of his scalpel, the source of thought; what, I say, becomes of all these?" "There is less wisdom in such vain speculation than in these simple words: '_I believe in God the Father, the Creator of all things_.'" "Worlds," says Isaiah, "are, before Him, like the dew-drops on a blade of grass." "We are now, however, getting into the clouds," remarked Wolston; "let us return to the earth by the shortest route. What do you mean to do with the chimpanzee?" "Why, we must cage him in some way," replied Becker; "to let him loose again would be to create fresh uneasiness for ourselves. To kill him would be almost a kind of homicide." "Can I come in now?" inquired Willis, thrusting his head into the gallery. "Yes, with perfect safety." "You see, when Master Ernest begins to spin, he gets into the chapter of miracles, and forgets that we have ears." "I cannot help seeing them sometimes though, Willis; when they are a little longer than usual, it is difficult to hide them altogether." "Well," replied Willis, "I confess I am a bit of a fool, and as you are at a loss what to do with our friend here, I shall take him over with me to Shark's Island: there will be a pair of us there then." "If you will undertake to be his guide and instructor, he is yours, Willis." "What shall I call him?" "Jocko." "It shall go hard with me if I do not make a gentleman of him in a month's time." "I should like," said Frank, "if you could convert him into a tiger." "A tiger?" "Yes, we want a footman in livery to fetch Mrs. Wolston's carriage next time she calls for it." "I feel highly flattered by the compliment," said Mrs. Wolston, "but fear you will not be able to turn him out entire." "Why so, madam?" "Where are the top boots to come from?" CHAPTER X. THE PIONEERS--EXCURSION TO COROMANDEL--HINDOO FANCIES--A CAGED HUNTER--LOUIS XI. AND CARDINAL BALUE--A FURLONG OF NEWS--CARNAGE--THE BARONET AND HIS SEVENTEEN TIGERS--FIFTY-FOUR FEET OF CELEBRITY--STERNE'S WINDOW--PROMENADE OF THE CONSCIENCES--EMULATION AND VANITY. When a country is released from the presence of an enemy that annoyed and harassed them, the people feel as if a weight had been taken off their shoulders; so the inhabitants of New Switzerland had breathed more freely since the capture of the chimpanzee. The works at Falcon's Nest were completed, and the two families had taken possession of their aerial dwellings, where they were perched like a pair of rookeries within call of each other. The confined air of towns has a tendency to plunge men into lethargy and indolence, and to precipitate the decadence of a constitution in which the seeds of disease have been sown; whilst, on the other hand, the pure air of the country braces the nerves, excites a healthy action in the system, and invigorates a shattered frame; so it was with Mr. Wolston--under the benign influences of the genial climate and the refreshing sea breeze, he gradually, but steadily, recovered health and strength. A larger breadth of land had been cleared and fitted for receiving grain, which it was susceptible of reproducing a hundred-fold. Such is the sublime contract God has made with man, that, in exchange for his labor and skill, a single grain of wheat will produce seven or eight stalks, each bearing an ear containing fifty grains; a single grain has been known to yield twenty-eight ears, and Pliny states that Nero received a grain bearing the enormous number of three hundred and sixty ears. Strange that such a singular instance of fecundity should present itself during the domination of a man, or rather monster, who dared to wish that the Roman people had only one head, so that he might cut it off at a single blow! Willis and the Wolstons were as yet ignorant of the extent and limits of the colony; there were two inclosed and cultivated sections, named respectively Waldeck and Prospect Hill, which they had not yet inspected. With a view to enable them to form a more accurate conception of the boundaries of the territory they inhabited, a grand excursion was decided upon that would enable them leisurely to investigate every nook and cranny of the settlement. The storehouse was accordingly overhauled, and the ladies called in to prepare viands for the journey; they were likewise invited to furnish a supply of certain enchanted travelling bags, in which the gentlemen were often astonished to find, during their distant expeditions, a thousand and one useful things that they would never have dreamt of bringing with them of their own accord. Becker, Wolston, Ernest, and Frank set about the construction of a vehicle on four wheels for the luggage and the ladies; they did not contemplate erecting a machine with elastic springs and gilded panels, like the Lord Mayor's state coach--their object was to produce a machine that would ease, without dislocating, the limbs of the travellers, and that would move at least more gently than a gardener's cart, loaded with hampers of greens for Covent Garden Market. It may readily be supposed that Ernest's Latin was not of much service in these operations, for even Wolston's mechanical skill was sorely tried in elaborating the design. Fritz, Willis, and Jack had already started as pioneers of the expedition to examine the buildings, and to see that no more apes or other piratical marauders had established themselves on their premises; and, in compliance with a request made by Willis, who strongly objected to becoming a bushranger, they had gone by water. It was further arranged that, on their return, all should start together--the entire community in one cavalcade, like an army on the march. The young ladies were as much pleased in anticipation with this journey as if the destination of the travellers had been Brighton or Ramsgate. To children of their age, change is always pleasing. Often, in consequence of a death, the collapse of a bank, the loss of a law-suit, or some dire disaster of that sort, parents have seen themselves compelled to abandon the home of their fathers, endeared to them by many gentle recollections, perhaps to embark for some far distant land; they stifle their sighs, and bid a mute farewell to each stone and each tree, familiar to them as household words; they depart with reluctance, and often turn to cast a lingering look behind at objects so dear to their memory. Not so the children; they issue from the door like a flock of caged pigeons just let loose; they sing and leap and laugh with glee; the old house has no charms for them, they are as glad to depart as their elders are wishful to stay; the trunk desires to multiply its roots on the soil, but the buds prefer to blow elsewhere--for the latter life resolves itself into the word FUTURE, and for the former into the word PAST. Leaving Wolston, Becker, and his two sons hard at work on the carriage, let us turn to the pinnace which was now making its way along the shore under the guidance of the Pilot. "I should like much," said Fritz, "to present Mr. and Mrs. Wolston with a couple of bear, leopard, or tiger skins." "So should I," said Jack. "I wish you could think of some other sort of gift," suggested Willis; "what do you say to a couple of seal or shark skins?" "Won't do," replied both Fritz and Jack in one voice. "What objections have you to the others?" "Well, you are in some sort consigned to my care; I should like you to return to your parents with your own skins entire." "Then you think it is a terrific affair to kill a tiger or two? You have been accustomed to the sea, and fancy landsmen are good for nothing but shooting crows and wild-cats; that is a mistake, however; we are familiar with larger game." "Shiver my timbers! do you call bears and tigers game?" "I am afraid, Willis, you are a bit of a milksop." "Avast heaving there, Master Fritz! as it is, I am a half-hanged man already, so death has now no terrors Dov me; it is the first pang that is most felt." "Yes; but in the case of tigers, they never give you time to feel a second pang; miss your aim, and it is all over with you." "True; and therefore I wish you would give up the project. As for myself, I would face anything with a four-pounder, but rifle practice on board ship is mostly confined to the marines; it is not that, however, I am troubled about; I am certain your worthy father would never forgive me if I countenance this project." "You need not tell him anything about it." "Where, then, are the skins to come from? Can you say you bought them at the furrier's? You must really hit upon some other fancy." "But it is not a fancy, Willis, it is a necessity; it is not our own amusement we are consulting. Just imagine yourself what will happen during the excursion now being arranged. Our parents will, of course, offer their bear skins to Mr. and Mrs. Wolston; there will be refusals on the one side and entreaties on the other." "And, as is usual in these sort of discussions," added Jack, "Mrs. Wolston will call her carriage." "Yes," continued Fritz, "and my mother will most certainly deprive herself of a covering that is absolutely indispensable during the cold nights of this climate." "There is reason in what you say," observed Willis, scratching his ear. "You see, Willis, the thing ought and must be done." "As you put it, yes; but it will take time to prepare the skins." "They will not be ready in time for this expedition certainly, and my mother must do without her skin this journey; but it is our duty to prevent anything of the sort happening in future." "Were I to consent to this project," said Willis, "there is still something more required." "What, Willis?" "Why, the tigers and what's-a-names; it is necessary to find the brute before you can get its skin." "Granted; there would be a difficulty in the case had we not here quite handy a magnificent covering of wild animals, all ready to kill or to be killed. Just steer a point to the east, Willis; there, that will do. Just beyond that bluff you see yonder, there is a low flat plain covered with brushwood and tufted with trees; on the left, this prairie is bounded by a chain of low hills, and on the right a broad river, which last we have named the St. John, because it bears some resemblance to a stream of that name in Florida; beyond this plain there is a swamp." "And," added Jack, "behind this swamp there is a magnificent forest of cedars, peopled with the finest furs imaginable, but garnished, however, with formidable claws and rows of teeth." "I was not aware," said Willis, "that we were within reach of such amiable neighbors." "Oh, they cannot reach us; thanks to the conformation of that chain of hills you see yonder, there is only one pass that opens into our settlement, and that we have taken care to shut up and fortify." "It appears then," said Willis, "that there will be no difficulty in finding the animals, but--" "Come, Willis, no more buts; you hunt in your own way from morning till night, let us for once hunt in ours." "I go a-hunting?" "Yes, there you are, charging your piece just now." "Oh, my pipe you mean; but look at the difference; mosquitoes bite human beings, they don't eat them!" "And, you may add, their skins don't make bed-clothes. Besides, if my mother takes rheumatism or the ague, it will be you that is to blame." "I would rather face all the tigers in Bengal and all the lions in Africa than incur such a responsibility. I will, therefore, take a part in your cruise, and if any accident happens to either of you, I shall stay in the forest till nothing is left of me but my cap and my bones. In this way I will escape all reproach in this world, and I may as well, after all, rejoin my old commander, Captain Littlestone, by this road as by any other." In the meantime, they had reached the coast of Waldeck, and having landed, they found the outhouses and sheds that had been erected there in satisfactory order; the apes had not forgotten a battue that had once been got up for their special behoof, as not an individual was to be seen in the neighborhood. A morass of the district that had been converted into a rice plantation, promised an abundant crop; and the cotton plants, that Frank had once mistaken for flakes of snow, reared their woolly blossoms, looking for all the world like the powdered heads of our ancestors. After a slight repast, the pinnace was once more in motion, and the party steering for Prospect Hill. "Ah," sighed Willis, "I wish we had only Sir Marmaduke Travers' cage here." "Cage!" cried Fritz, laughing, "what, to shut up the game first and shoot it afterwards?" "No, quite the reverse: to shut up the hunters." "Ah, you would serve us in the same way as Louis XI. served Cardinal Balue." "I know nothing of either Louis XI. or Cardinal Balue; but the cage I speak of was an excellent invention, for all that." "Which you would like to prove to us by caging ourselves, eh?" "Sir Marmaduke Travers," continued Willis, "was an English gentleman, and he was travelling in Coromandel, no one knew why or for what purpose." "For the fun of the thing, probably," suggested Jack; the English are said to be great oddities." "At that time there happened to be a Hindoo widow somewhere in those parts. This lady was very rich, very young, very beautiful, and very fond of tormenting her admirers. And, as fate would have it, the travelling Englishman was completely taken captive by this dark beauty; and taking advantage of the hold she had obtained upon his heart, she amused herself by making him do all sorts of out of the way things. Sometimes she would bid him let his moustache grow, then she would order him to cut it off; he had to worship Brahma, adopt the fashion of the Hindoos, and had even to undergo the indignity of having his head tied up in a dirty pocket-handkerchief." "That is to say," remarked Jack, "that the lady, not having a pug or a monkey, made Sir Marmaduke a substitute for both." "Very likely, but still Sir Marmaduke was no fool; he was, on the contrary, a gentleman and a philosopher." "I doubt that," said Jack. "You are wrong, then. You have been brought up in an out of the way part of the world, and are not familiar with the usages of civilized society. When once a man has allowed the tender passion to take root in his breast, it cannot afterwards be extinguished at will; it grows and grows like an oil spot, so that what might easily have been mastered at first, makes us in time its devoted slave." "I cannot admit," said Fritz, "that any sensible man would allow himself to be treated in the way you state." "The wisest and bravest have often, for all that, been obliged to bend their heads to such circumstances; in fact, those only escape whose hearts have been steeled by time or adversity. Well, nothing would please the lady in one of her caprices short of Sir Marmaduke's going alone to the jungle and killing a tiger or two for her. This caused him some little uneasiness." "I should think so," remarked Jack, "unless he had been accustomed to face the animals." "However, the widow's hand was to be the reward of the achievement, and the thing must consequently be done. Being, however, as I have said, a bit of a philosopher, he considered with himself that if, by chance, he should perish in the attempt he would lose the widow all the same, and that he could not think of with any thing like equanimity. To extricate himself from this dilemma he sent a despatch to an enterprising friend of his, then stationed with his regiment at Calcutta, requesting his advice." "And this friend, no doubt, sent him a couple of tigers all ready trussed?" "No, better than that; he sent him a strong iron cage fifteen feet square, very solid. This was shipped on board a cutter commanded by Captain Littlestone, and I was entrusted with the task of erecting it on shore, whilst an express was sent off to Sir Marmaduke." "Ah!" said Jack, "I begin to understand now." "Well, he rigged himself in tiger-hunting costume, went and bade the lady good-bye, who coolly wished him good sport, mounted a horse, and rode off to conquer a lady who, as a proof of her affection, had so cavalierly consigned him to the tender mercies of the wild beasts." "Why, it was dooming him to certain destruction," said Fritz. "In the meantime the cage had been conveyed to a valley surrounded with mountains, the caves of which were known to shelter entire colonies of tigers. Here also came Sir Marmaduke. The cage was firmly embedded in the soil, the exterior was thickly studded over with sharp spikes screwed into the bars; inside were placed a table and a sofa, with crimson velvet cushions." "A lady's boudoir in the wilderness," said Jack. "In one corner there was a case containing a dozen bottles of pale ale, and as many of champagne; in another was a second case containing curry pies and a variety of preserved meats; in a third case were five and twenty loaded rifles, together with a complete magazine in miniature of powder and shot. On the table were sundry cases of havannahs, a box of _allumettes_, the last number of the _Edinburgh Review_, and a copy of the _Times_." "What is the _Times_?" inquired Jack. "It is a furlong of paper, folded up and covered with news, advertisements, and letters from the oldest inhabitant of everywhere. Leaving, then, Sir Marmaduke seated in the centre of his cage, we towards night returned to the cutter, first scattering two or three quarters of fresh beef in the vicinity of the cage." "That should have assembled all the tigers in Coromandel," said Fritz. "Anyhow, it brought enough. Towards midnight Sir Marmaduke could count thirty noble brutes capering in the moonlight and feasting upon the beef that had been provided for them." "What did the Englishman do then?" "He took aim at the most magnificent specimen of the herd and fired. No sooner had he done this than the whole pack came scampering towards the cage, thinking, doubtless, they had nothing to do but scrunch the bones of the solitary hunter. This was the signal for a regular slaughter. Sir Marmaduke discharged his rifles point blank in the noses of the animals that environed him on all sides; those who were not wounded by the balls were severely injured by the spikes of the cage in their furious efforts to seize their enemy. The howling, yelling, and fury was quite a new sensation for Sir Marmaduke; he rather enjoyed the thing whilst the excitement lasted. However, all things must have an end; when the sun appeared on the horizon the wounded retired, leaving the dead masters of the situation." "I suppose, in the meantime," remarked Fritz, "that the amiable Hindoo was considering whether or not, under the circumstances, she should wear mourning for her defunct cavalier." "Be that as it may, the defunct made his appearance, safe and sound, that same day, whilst the cutter stood out to sea with every vestige of the cage except the dead tigers. Shortly after, the widow was astonished to see an army of coolies marching in procession towards her door, all, like the slaves of Aladdin, heavily laden; and she was not awakened from her surprise till the master of the ceremonies had placed the following letter in her hands: "Madam,--With this you will receive seventeen fall-grown tigers, which I have had the honour of shooting for you. "Marmaduke Travers." "That was a choice bijou for a lady," said Jack. [Illustration] "Yes," added Fritz; "and if the ladies of Coromandel have stands in their drawing-rooms, to display the tributes to their charms, Sir Marmaduke's present afforded abundant material for adorning those of the widow." "Well, the consequence was, that Sir Marmaduke's name rung from one end of India to the other. The feat of killing, single-handed, seventeen tigers, converted him into a hero of the first magnitude. No festival was complete without him, he was courted by the fashionables and worshipped by the mob; some enthusiasts even proposed to erect a tomb for him, that being the way they honor their great men in eastern nations." "Every country," remarked Fritz, "has its own peculiarities in this respect. The memory of the illustrious men of Greece and Rome was perpetuated in the intrinsic merit of the works of art erected in their names. In England quantity takes the place of quality; there is said to be in London a statue of a hero disguised as Achilles, six yards in height, and perched upon a pedestal twelve yards high." "Making in all," remarked Jack, "exactly eighteen yards of fame." "The handsome Hindoo," continued Willis, "was proud of the feat her charms had inspired. She gloried in showing off the redoubtable tiger-slayer at her _réunions_, and ended in being completely fascinated herself with her former slave. The match that she had formerly sneezed at she now earnestly desired, and, as Sir Marmaduke did not declare himself so speedily as she desired, she determined to give him a little encouragement by sending one of the most inviting and most odoriferous of notes." "Sir Marmaduke must then have considered himself one of the happiest of men," said Fritz. "Well," continued Willis, "neither man nor woman can, in affairs of this kind, depend upon themselves for two consecutive hours. The aspirations of a whole life-time may be dispelled in five minutes, and the wishes of to-day may become the detestations of to-morrow. The new sensations awakened in Sir Marmaduke by the affair of the cage--his recollection of the ferocious brutes as they clung with expiring energy to the bars of the cage, their streaked skins streaming with blood, the fearful howling and terrific death yells, the formidable claws that were often within an inch of his face--had, somehow or other, chased the passion he had felt for the widow completely out of his breast." "Oh, the scamp of a Travers!" said Jack, energetically. "He began to ask himself coolly what a lady, who had made such extraordinary demands upon him before marriage, might not require him to do after; and the result of his cogitations is expressed in the following reply that he sent to the now smiling widow:-- "'Sir Marmaduke Travers is highly flattered by the charming note of the adorable daughter of Brahma; he shall gladly continue to bask in the sunshine of her smiles, out his ambition desires and will accept nothing more.'" "Flowery and laconic," said Fritz. "Well," inquired Willis, "was I not right in wishing to have the cage of Sir Marmaduke here?" "Yes, but we cannot get it. We have no ingenious trend at Calcutta to send us such a machine, and furnish it with crimson-cushioned sofas and pale ale, so we shall have to rest satisfied with our own ingenuity, tact, and agility." Fritz and Jack were justified in relying upon their own resources. They had been often sorely tried, and never had been found wanting in cases of emergency. Since the arrival of the Wolstons their courage had become almost temerity; previous to that event, they had been content to meet danger bravely when it was inevitable, and never went deliberately in search of it. Now, however, if we apply the glass of which Sterne speaks to their breasts and spy what is passing therein, we shall fad that an imperious desire to become heroes had taken possession of their inward souls--a determination to make themselves conspicuous at all hazards was burning within them; that, in fact, they were courting the admiration of the new audience that Providence had sent to the colony, the praise of which found more favor in their hearts than the paternal admonitions. This was far from being commendable; but, although emulation and vanity have some features in common, still they must not be confounded: the former consists in generous efforts to equal or surpass some one in something praiseworthy; the second is a kind of self-love, that seeks to purchase respect or flattery at no matter what cost;--the one is a vice, the other a virtue. Fritz and Jack were not actuated by vanity; they were urged on by their impulses, without weighing the circumstances that gave them rise; and indeed they were not even conscious of being more desirous of renown now than they had been hitherto. The temperament of Ernest and Frank was of another kind. Their natures were much less excitable, and it did not appear that the recent arrivals had altered their outward demeanor in the slightest degree; they continued calm, staid, and reflective, as they had ever been. All four were a singular mixture of the child and the man--knowing many things that young people are ignorant of, they were yet almost totally unacquainted with the ordinary attributes of social life--unsophisticated and naive to an extreme degree, they would have appeared in a fashionable drawing-room downright fools. On the other hand, they possessed great clearness of perception, presence of mind in danger, promptitude in action, and the utmost coolness in the face of apparently insurmountable obstacles--qualities that would have utterly confounded the young men who shine in the saloons of Europe, whose chief merit often consists in their being familiar with the unmeaning conventionalisms of fashionable life. At Prospect Hill they found the outhouses and plantations in much the same position as at Waldeck. Here the crimson flowers of the caper plant, the white flowers of the tea plant, and the rich blossoms of the clove tree, perfumed the air and promised a fragrant harvest. This was a charming caravansary, all ready with its smiles to welcome the illustrious colonists as soon as they presented themselves. These points being settled to the satisfaction of the three pioneers, a sheep was taken on board the pinnace at the request of Willis--who seemed to have taken a violent fancy for mutton chops--and they set sail towards the east. In the first instance they made for a projecting head-land that seemed to bar their progress in that direction, and, much to the astonishment of the Pilot, they entered a cavern that formed the entrance to a natural tunnel. This, besides being an interesting feature in the coast scenery, was one of the treasures of the colony, for it contained vast quantities of edible birds' nests, so much prized by the Chinese. The voyagers did not, however, tarry here; these were not the objects they were now in search of. Nautilus Bay and the Bay of Pearls were likewise traversed unheeded, nor could the attractive banks of the St. John, fringed with verdant foliage, divert them from the project they had in contemplation. Wise men, when they indulge in folly, are often more foolish than real fools; so it was with Willis: now that he had joined in the scheme, he evinced more ardor in its execution than the young men themselves. He said that it would not be enough to capture skins for Mr. and Mrs. Wolston, they must also capture one a-piece for Mary and Sophia likewise, and talked as if the adventure of Sir Marmaduke and his seventeen tigers had been a bagatelle. Some hours before dark they landed at a spot well known to both Fritz and Jack; it was a place where Becker and his sons had some time before been engaged in deadly conflict with a herd of lions, and where one of their dogs had fallen a victim to the enraged monarchs of the forest. "My plan," said Willis, "is to kill the sheep and place the quarters on the shore, just as bait is thrown into the water to bring the fish within the net." "A reminiscence of Sir Marmaduke," said Jack. "Then," continued Willis, "we shall light a fire to take the place of the sun, who is about to retire for the night. This done, I propose that we should return to the pinnace, keep the mutton within rifle range, and riddle the skins that come to feast upon it." After some opposition on the part of Fritz and Jack, who preferred to encounter their antagonists on more equal terms, the proposal of Willis was ultimately agreed to. CHAPTER XI. ON THE WATCH--FECUNDITY OF PLANTS AND ANIMALS--LATEST NEWS FROM THE MOON--A DEATH-KNELL EVERY SECOND--THE INCONVENIENCES OF BEING TOO NEAR THE SUN--NARCOTICS--WILLIS CONTRALTO--HUNTING TURNED UPSIDE DOWN--ELECTRIC CLOUDS--PARTIALITIES OF LIGHTNING--BELLS AND BELL-RINGERS--CONDUCTING RODS--THE RETURN--THE TWO SISTERS--TOBY BECOMES A DRAGOMAN. As is usual in tropical climates, a blazing hot day was succeeded by an intensely dark night. The fire that the hunters had made on shore cast a lurid glare on the prominent objects round about. The flames, as they fitfully lit up the landscape into that dim distinctness termed by artists the _chiar oscuro_, made the bushes and trunks of trees appear like monsters issuing stealthily from the forest that lined the background. There seemed to be some attraction, however, elsewhere for the real monsters, not a single wild beast having as yet appeared on the scene. The two young men were eagerly straining their eyes from the stern of the pinnace, whilst the dogs kept diligently wagging their tails in expectation of a signal for the onset. The position of Willis could be ascertained now and then by an eye of fire, which opened and shut as he inhaled or exhaled the fumes of his Maryland. The ripple beat gently on the sea-line of the boat, which oscillated with the regularity and softness of a cradle. "It is always so," said Jack, impatiently; "if we don't want wild beasts, there are shoals of them to be seen; but if we do want them, then they are all off to their dens." "Perhaps, there are none now," suggested Willis. "Say rather," observed Fritz, "that there ought to be thousands; for on the one hand they multiply rapidly, and on the other there is no one to destroy them. Spaniards once left a few cattle on St. Domingo, and they increased at such a rate, that the island very soon would not have been able to support them, had they not been kept down by constant slaughter." "Besides," remarked Jack, "the bovine race reproduce themselves more slowly than other animals; a single sow, according to a calculation made by Vauban, if allowed to live eleven years, would produce six millions of pigs." "What a cargo of legs of pork and sides of bacon!" exclaimed Willis, laughing. "Then fish; there are more than a hundred and sixty thousand eggs in a single carp. A sturgeon contains a million four hundred and sixty-seven thousand eight hundred and fifty, whilst in some codfish the number exceeds nine millions." "Oh, you need not favor us with the 'Mariner's March,' Willis; what my brother says is perfectly correct." "What, then, do these shoals of creatures live upon?" "The big ones upon the little ones; fish devour each other." "A beautiful harmony of Nature," remarked Fritz drily. "Then plants," continued Jack, "are still more prolific than animals. Some trees can produce as many of their kind as they have branches, or even leaves. An elm tree, twelve years old, yields sometimes five hundred thousand pods; and, by the way, Willis, to encourage you in carrying on the war against the mosquitoes, a single stalk of tobacco produces four thousand seeds." "The leaves, however, are of more use to me than the seeds," replied Willis. "This admirable proportion between the productiveness of the two kingdoms demonstrates the far-seeing wisdom of Providence. If the power of multiplication in vegetables had been less considerable, the fields, gardens, and prairies would have been deserts, with only a plant here and there to hide the nakedness of the land. Had God permitted animals to multiply in excess of plants, the entire vegetation would soon have been devoured, and then the animals themselves would of necessity have ceased to exist." "How is it, then," inquired Willis, "with this continual multiplication always going on, the inhabitants of land and sea do not get over-crowded?" "Why, as regards man, for example, if thirteen or fourteen human beings are born within a given period, death removes ten or eleven others; but though this leaves a regular increase, still the population of the globe always continues about the same." "It may be so, Master Jack, but when I was a little boy at school, I generally came in for a whipping, if I made out two and two to be anything else than four." "And served you right too, Willis; but if the human family did not continually increase, if the number of deaths exceeded continually that of the births, at the end of a few centuries the world would be unpeopled." "Very good; but if, on the other hand, there is a continual increase, how can the population continue the same?" "Because the increase supposes a normal state; that is to say, the births are only estimated as compared with deaths from disease or old age. But then there are shipwrecks, inundations, plagues, and war, which sometimes exterminate entire communities at one fell swoop. Then whole nations die out and give place to the redundant populations of others; phenomena now observed in the cases of the aborigines of Australia and America." "Very true." "No signs of furs yet," cried Fritz, who was every now and then levelling his rifle at the phantoms on shore. "We need not dread," continued Jack, "ever being hustled or jostled on the earth; life will fail us before space. There are now eight hundred millions of human beings in existence, and, according to the most moderate computation, room enough for twice that number. As it is, the most fertile sections of the earth are not the most populous; there are four hundred millions in Asia, sixty millions in Africa, forty in America, two hundred and thirty in Europe, and only seventy millions in the islands and continent of Oceanica!" "To which," remarked Fritz, "you may add the eleven inhabitants of New Switzerland." "Assuming, then, this calculation to be nearly accurate, though authorities vary materially in their computations of the earth's inhabitants, and regarding it in connexion with the average duration of human life, a thousand millions of mortals must perish in thirty-three years; to descend to detail, thirty millions every year, three thousand four hundred every hour, sixty every minute, or ONE EVERY SECOND." "Aye," remarked Willis, "we are here to-day and gone to-morrow." "Suppose, then, that the population of the earth were twice as great, cultivation would be extended, territories that are now lying waste would be teeming with life and covered with fertile fields, but the same beautiful equilibrium would be maintained." "And the inhabitants of the planets," said Fritz, "what are they about?" "What planets do you mean?" inquired Willis. "Well, all in general; the moon, for example, in particular." "The moon," replied Jack, "has, in the first place, no atmosphere. This we know, because the rays of the stars passing behind her are not, in the slightest degree, refracted; and this proves that neither men, nor animals, nor vegetables of any kind, are to be found in that planet, for they could not exist without air." "That should settle the question," remarked Willis. "Yes," remarked Fritz; "but some theorists, nevertheless, insist that there may be living creatures in the moon, for all that--of course, differently constituted from the inhabitants of our earth, and susceptible of existing without air. There is, however, no evidence of any kind to support such a theory; it is a mere fancy, the dream of an imaginative brain. Upon the same grounds, it may be argued, that the interior of the earth is inhabited, and that elves and gnomes are possible beings. Besides, the telescope has been brought to so high a degree of perfection, that objects the size of a house can now be detected in the moon." "It seems, I am afraid," remarked Jack, who, like his brother, was getting annoyed by the phantasmagoria on shore, "that we were about as well supplied with wild beasts here as they are with men in the planets." "In speaking of the moon, however," continued Fritz, "I do not imply all the planets; for, certain as we are that the moon has no atmosphere, so we are equally certain that some of the planets possess that attribute. Still there are other circumstances that render the notion of their being inhabited by beings like ourselves exceedingly improbable. Mercury, for example, is so embarrassed by the solar rays, that lead must always be in a state of fusion, and water, if not reduced to a state of vapor, will be hot enough to boil the fish that are in it. Uranus, at the other extremity of the system, receives four hundred times less heat and light than we do, consequently neither water nor any thing else can exist there in a liquid state; what is fluid on our earth must be frozen up into a solid mass. Good, I declare my brother has fallen asleep!" "It is very--interesting--however," said Willis, making ineffectual efforts to smother a yawn. "The same difficulty with comets; there must have been some very urgent necessity for human beings in order to have peopled them. When they pass the perihelion--" "The what?" inquired Willis. "The point where they approach nearest the sun--when they pass the perihelion, I was going to say, the heat they endure must be terrific; when on the other hand, at their extreme distance from that body, the cold must be intense. The comet of 1680 did not approach within five thousand _myriamètres_ of the sun." "Friends coming within that distance of each other should at least shake hands," said Willis. "Still, even at that distance, the heat, according to Newton, must be like red-hot iron, and if constituted like our earth, when heated to that degree, must take fifty thousand years to cool." "Fifty thousand years!" said Willis, yawning from ear to ear. "The central position between these extremes, which would either congeal our earth into a mass of ice or burn it up into a heap of cinders, is therefore the most congenial to such beings as ourselves. Whence I conclude--" Here the crimson flashes of Willis's pipe, which had been gradually diminishing in brilliance suddenly ceased; _contralto_ notes issued from the profundities of his breast, and it became evident to the orator that all his audience were sound asleep. "Whence I conclude," said Fritz, addressing himself, "that my orations must be somewhat soporiferous." Being thus left alone to keep a look-out on shore, his thoughts gradually receded within his own breast, where all was rose-colored and smiling, for at his age rust has not had time to corrupt, nor moths to eat away. And it was not long before he himself, like his two companions, was fast locked in the arms of sleep. How long this state of things lasted the chronicle saith not; but the three sleepers were eventually awakened by a simultaneous howl of the dogs. They were instantly on their feet, with their rifles levelled. It was too late; day had broken, and there was light enough to convince them that nothing was to be seen. The sheep's quarters had, however, entirely disappeared, and they had the satisfaction of knowing that they had politely given the denizens of the forest a feast gratis. "Ah, they shall pay us for it yet," said Jack. "This is a case of the hunters being caught instead of the game," remarked Fritz. "The poor sheep! If Ernest had been here, he would have erected a monument to its memory." "I doubt that; epitaphs are generally made rather to please the living than to compliment the defunct. But, Willis, we must deprive you of your office of huntsman in chief--I shall go into the forest and revenge this insult." "I have no objection to abdicate the office of huntsman, but must retain that of admiral, in which capacity I announce to you that there will be a storm presently, and that we shall just have time to make Rockhouse before it overtakes us." "That is rather a reason for our remaining where we are." "We have come for skins, and skins we must have." "Besides, we are two to one, and in all constitutional governments the majority rules." "Have you both made up your minds?" inquired Willis. "Yes, we are quite decided." "In that case," said Willis, "let us hoist the anchor and be off home." "Home! but we are determined to have the skins first." "No, you are not," said Willis; "I know you better than you know yourselves. You are both brave fellows, but I know you would not, for all the skins in the world, have your good mother suppose that you were buffeted about by the waves in a storm." "True; up with the anchor, Willis," said Fritz. "Be it so," said Jack, shaking his fist menacingly at the silent forest, "but we shall lose nothing by waiting." The sailor had not erred in his calculations, for they had scarcely unfurled the sail before they heard the distant rumbling of the storm. As soon as the first flash of lightning shot across the sky, Jack put his forefinger of one hand on the wrist of the other, and began counting one--two--three. "Do you feel feverish?" inquired Willis. "No, not personally," replied Jack; "I am feeling the pulse of the storm--twenty-four--twenty-five--twenty-six--it is a mile off." "Aye! how do you make that out?" "Very easily; you recollect Ernest telling us that light travelled so rapidly, that the time it occupied in passing from one point to another of the earth's surface was scarcely perceptible to our senses?" "Yes, but I thought he was spinning a yarn at the time." "You were wrong, Willis; he likewise told us that sound travels at the rate of four hundred yards in a second." "Well, but--" "Have patience, Willis! When the lightning flashes, the electric spark is discharged, is it not?" "Well, I was never high enough aloft to see." "But others have been; Newton and Franklin have seen it. Now, if the sound reaches our ears a second after the flash, it has travelled four hundred yards. If we hear it twelve or thirteen seconds after, it has travelled twelve or thirteen times four hundred yards, or about half a mile, and so on." "But what has that to do with your pulse?" "In the first place, I am in perfect health, am I not?" "I hope so, Master Jack." "Then when our systems are in good order, the pulse, keeping fractions out of view, beats once in every second; and consequently, though we do not always carry a watch, we always have our arteries about us, and may therefore always reckon time." "Now I understand." "Ah! then we are to escape this time without the 'Mariner's March.'" "It appears, Master Jack, that you have turned philosopher as well as your brothers. Can you tell me what causes lightning?" "Yes, I can, Willis. You must know, in the first place, that all the layers of the atmosphere are, more or less, charged with electricity." "Ask him how," said Fritz drily. "Ah, you hope to puzzle me," replied Jack, "but thanks to Mr. Wolston, I am too well up in physics to be easily driven off my perch, and therefore may safely take my turn in philosophising." "Well, we are listening." "The air, by means of the vapor it contains, absorbs electricity from terrestrial bodies, and so becomes a sort of reservoir of this invisible fluid. All chemical combinations evolve electricity, the air collects it and stores it up in the clouds. There, worshipful brother, your question is answered." "Good, go on." "Well, Willis, you must know, in the second place, the clouds are very good fellows, and share with each other the good things they possess. When one cloud meets another, the one over-supplied with this fluid and the other in its normal state, there is an immediate interchange of courtesies, the negative electricity of the one is exchanged for the positive of the other." "There does not appear, however, to be much generosity in this transaction, since the surcharged cloud does not cede its superfluous abundance without a consideration." "It is very rarely that philanthropy amongst us goes much further," remarked Fritz. "No, everybody is not like Willis," rejoined Jack, "who acts like a prince, and gives legs of mutton gratis to hyenas and tigers. The discharges of electricity from one cloud to another are the flashes of lightning, and it is to be observed that the thunder is nothing more than the noise made by the fluid rushing through the air." "What, then, is the thunderbolt?" "There is no such thing as what is popularly understood by the term thunderbolt. The lightning itself, however, often does mischief. This happens when the discharge, instead of being between two clouds in the air, takes place between a cloud and the ground--a cloud surcharged with electricity understood. Then all intervening objects are struck by the fluid." "There, however, you are wrong," said Fritz. "All objects are not struck; on the contrary, the fluid avoids some things and searches out others, even moving in a zig-zag direction to manifest these caprices; it often discharges itself on or into hard substances, and passes by those which are soft or feeble." "I might say this arose from a sentiment of generosity," added Jack, "but I have other reasons to assign." "So much the better," said Fritz, "as I should scarcely be satisfied with the first." "Well," continued Jack, "lightning has its likings and dislikings." "Like men and women," suggested Willis. "It has a partiality for metal." "An affection that is not returned, however," observed Fritz. "If the fluid enters a room, for example, it runs along the bell wires, inspects the works of the clock, and sometimes has the audacity to pounce upon the money in your purse, even though a policeman should happen to be in the kitchen at the time." "Perhaps," remarked Willis, "it is Socialist or Red Republican in its notions." "It does not, however, patronise war," replied Jack; "I once heard of it having melted a sword and left the scabbard intact." "That, to say the least of it, is improbable," remarked Fritz. "The hilt, or even the point, might have been fused; but even supposing the electric fluid to have been capable of such flagrant preference, the scabbard could not have held molten metal without being itself consumed." "Aye," remarked Willis, "there are plenty of non-sensical stories of that kind in circulation, because nobody takes the trouble to test their truth. Still, according to your own account, a man or woman runs no danger from the lightning." "I beg your pardon there, Willis; the electric fluid does not go out of its way to attack a human being, but if one should-happen to be in its way, it does not take time to request that individual to stand aside, it simply passes through him, and leaves him or her, as the case may be, a coagulated mass of inanimate tissues." "What a variety of ways there are of getting out of the world!" said Willis lugubriously. "Again," continued Jack, "anything that happens to be in the vicinity of the clouds when this interchange of courtesies is going on, is apt to draw the storm upon itself, hence the continual war that is carried on between the lightning and the steeples." "Something like an individual coming within range of a cloud of mosquitoes," suggested Willis. "A learned German--one of us," said the scapegrace, laughing, "calculated, in 1783, that in the space of thirty-three years there had been, to his own knowledge, three hundred and eighty-six spires struck, and a hundred and twenty bell-ringers killed by lightning, without reckoning a much larger number wounded." "And yet," remarked Willis, "I never heard of an insurance against accidents by lightning." "There are plenty of them, however, in Roman Catholic countries," said Fritz. "Every village has one, and the charge is almost nominal." "How, then, do these companies make it pay?" "They find it answer somehow, and they never collapse." "Then everybody ought to insure." "Yes, but there are some obstinate people who do not see the good of it." "If my life had not already been forfeited, I should insure it. But how is it done?" "Well, you have only to go into a church, fall down on your knees before the priest, he will make you invulnerable by a sign of the cross; then, come storms that pulverize the body or crush the mind, you are perfectly safe." "Ah! that is the way you insure your lives, is it, trusting to the priests rather than to Providence? For my own part, I should prefer a policy of insurance--that is to say, if my life were of any value." "Next to steeples," continued Jack, "come tall trees, such as poplars and pines. Should you ever be caught by a storm in the open country, Willis, never take shelter under a tree; face the storm bravely, and submit to be deluged by the rain. Dread even bushes, if they are isolated. An entire forest is less dangerous than a single reed when it stands alone." "But you forget, brother, that when a man stands alone he is quite as prominent an object as the trunk of a tree four or five feet high, particularly in an open plain." "Quite so. It is therefore advisable, when severe storms are close upon us, to lie down flat on the ground." "Suppose," remarked Fritz, smiling, "a brigade of soldiers on the march suddenly to collapse in this way, as if before a discharge of grape." "And why not? If it is done in the case of grape-shot, why may it not be done when the artillery is a thousand times more effective?" "Well, I suspect it would rather astonish the commanding officer, that is all." "Then, Willis," continued Jack, "you must not run during a storm, because the air you put in motion by so doing may draw the electricity into the current." "Do the conductors not prevent the lightning from doing harm?" "Yes, but you cannot carry one of them on your hat. These rods are only useful in protecting buildings, and then to nothing more than double the area of their length; it is for this last reason that roofs of public buildings have them projecting in all directions." "They are a sort of trap set for the lightning, are they not?" "Yes, and into which it is pretty sure to fall. Franklin, of whom I spoke just now, was the first to suggest that bars of steel would draw lightning out of a cloud surcharged with electricity." "What becomes of it when it is caught?" "Keeping in view its partiality for bell-pulls, a wire is attached to the rod down which the unconscious fluid glides." "Like a powder-monkey from the main-top." "Exactly; till it enters a well, and there it is left at the bottom in company with Truth." A practical storm had begun to mix itself up with the theory as developed by Jack, but not before they had very nearly reached their destination, where they were waited for with the greatest anxiety. No sooner had they landed than Sophia ran to meet Willis, who was advancing with Jack. "Ah, sweetheart," she said, "Susan has been so uneasy about you." "You are a good girl, Miss Soph--Susan." "Oh, if you only knew how frightened we have been!" "What, do you admit fear to be one of your accomplishments, Miss Sophia?" inquired Jack. "Certainly, when others are concerned, Master Jack. But, by the way, do you recollect the chimpanzee?" "Yes, what about the rascal?" [Illustration] "Oh, I must not tell you, mamma would call me a chatterbox; you will know by-and-by." In the meanwhile Mary, on her side, was congratulating Toby, who kept scampering between herself and Fritz, at one moment receiving the caresses of the one and at the next of the other, with every demonstration of joy. This had become an established mode of communication between the young people when Fritz arrived from a lengthened ramble; the intelligent, brute, in point of fact, had assumed the office of dragoman. "Ah, ah, Becker, glad to see you again," said Willis. "Your sons are fountains of knowledge, whilst I am--" "A very worthy fellow, Willis, and I know it," replied Becker, shaking him heartily by the hand. CHAPTER XII. MAN PROPOSES, BUT GOD DISPOSES--THE CHOICE OF A PROFESSION--CONQUEROR--ORATOR--ASTRONOMER--COMPOSER--PAINTER--POET--VILLAGE CURATE--THE KAFIRS--OCCUPATIONS OF WOMEN--THE ALPHA AND OMEGA OF THE SEA. To the storm succeeded one of those diluvian showers that have already been described. Rain being merely a result of evaporation, it was evident that sea and land in those climates must perspire at an enormous rate to effect such cataclysms. In consequence of this deluge, the proposed excursion was indefinitely postponed. The provisions, the marvellous kits, the waggon, were all ready; but Nature, as often happens under such circumstances, had assumed a menacing attitude, and for the present forbade the execution of the project. A sort of vague sadness, that generally accompanies a gloomy atmosphere, weighed upon the spirits of the colonists. Recollections of the _Nelson_ and her sudden disappearance thrust themselves more vividly than ever upon their memory; and Willis was observed to throw his sou'-wester unconsciously on the ground--a proof that remembrances of the past occupied his thoughts. One of the ladies was occupied in the needful domestic operations of the household, whilst the other sat with a stocking on her left arm, busily occupied in repairing the ravages of tear and wear upon that useful though humble garment. The two young ladies spun, as used to do the great ladies of the court of King Alfred, and as Hercules himself is said to have done when he changed his club and lion's skin for a spindle and distaff with the Queen of Lybia; Jack was apparently sketching, Fritz had a collection of hunting apparatus before him, and the other two young men, each with a book, were deeply immersed in study. This state of things was by no means cheerful, and Wolston determined to break up the monotony by introducing a subject of conversation likely to interest them all, the old as well as the young. "By the way, gentlemen," said he, "it occurs to me that you have not yet thought of selecting a profession; your future career seems at present somewhat obscure." "What would you have?" inquired Jack; "there is no use for lawyers and judges in our colony, except to try plundering monkeys or protect jackal orphans." "True; but suppose you were to find yourselves, by some chance, again in the great world, there it is necessary to possess a qualification of some kind; a blacksmith or a carpenter, expert in his handicraft, has a better chance of acquiring wealth and position than a man without a profession, however great his talents may be; an idler is a mere clog in the social machine, and is often thrust aside to browse in a corner with monks and donkeys." "But to acquire a profession, is not instruction and practice necessary?" "Certainly; it is impossible to become a proficient in any art or science by mere study alone; but before sowing a field, what is done?" "It is ploughed and manured." "And should there be only a few seeds?" "We can sow what we have, and reserve the harvest till next season. By economising each crop in this way, we shall soon have seeds enough to cover any extent of land." "May I request you, Master Ernest, to draw a conclusion from that as regards sowing the seeds of a future career?" "I would infer, from your suggestion, that we might adapt ourselves for such and such a profession by preparing our minds to receive instruction in it, and we might also avail ourselves in the meantime of such sources of information regarding it as are at present open to us. The physician in prospective, for example, might make himself familiar with the medical properties of such plants as are within his reach; he might likewise examine the bones of an ape, and thus, by analogy, become acquainted with the framework of the human body. The would-be lawyer might, in the same way, avail himself of the library to obtain an insight into those social mysteries that bind men in communities and necessitate human laws for the preservation of peace and order. Thus, by directing our thoughts into one line of study, we may form a basis upon which the superstructure may be easily erected, and the necessary academical degrees or sanction of the university obtained." "And, when you see this, why not adopt so commendable a course?" "Because we may probably be destined to remain here, where, according to Jack, the learned professions, at least, are not likely to be much in demand." "The study of a particular science or art has charms in itself, which amply compensate the student for his labor. But, even admitting you do not return to the Old World, you forget that it is your intention to colonise this territory." "It seems, however, that God has willed it otherwise." "What God does not will in one way, he may bring about in another. What reason have you for supposing that the _Nelson_ may not return with colonists?" "It will be from the other world then," said Willis. "Yes, from the other world," replied Jack, "but not in the sense you imply." "Besides, should the _Nelson_ not reappear, that is no reason why another accident may not drive another ship upon the coast that will be more fortunate; what has happened to-day may surely happen again to-morrow. And in the event of colonists arriving, will there not be sick to cure, boundaries to determine, differences of opinion to decide, and opposing claims to adjudge." "Certainly, Mr. Wolston." "Well, admitting these necessities, what profession will each of you select? Let us begin with you, Master Fritz." "The career," replied Fritz, "that would be most congenial to my taste is that of a conqueror." "A conqueror!" "Yes; Alexander, Scipio, Timour the Tartar, and Gengis Khan are the sort of men I should like to resemble. They have made a tolerable figure in the world, and I should have no objection to follow in their footsteps." "But you forget that their footsteps are marked with tears, disasters, terror, and bloodshed." "These are indispensable." "Why?" "Once, when a great commander was asked the same question, he replied, that you cannot make omelets without breaking eggs." "Yes," remarked Becker, "but if you had read the anecdote entire, you would have seen that he was asked in return, 'What use there was for so many omelets.'" "Added to which," continued Wolston, "that is not a normal career; there is no diploma required for it; it is an accident arising out of adventitious circumstances, sometimes fostered by ambition, but no course of study can produce a conqueror." "What, then, is the use of military schools?" "They are, to the best of my knowledge, instituted for rearing defenders for one's country, and not with a view to the subjugation of another's." "My poor Fritz," said Mrs. Becker laughing, "I hope when you conquer half the world, you will find an occupation for your mother more in consonance with your dignity than mending your stockings." "Then, again," continued Wolston, "war cannot be waged by a single individual." "There must be an enemy somewhere," suggested Willis. "The difficulty does not, however, lie there," observed Jack; "for, if we have no enemies, it is easy enough to make them." "There must, at all events, be armies, magazines, and a treasury--or eggs, as the great commander in question hinted." "True," replied Fritz; "but there is the same difficulty as regards all professions; there can be no barristers without briefs, no physicians without patients." "You will admit, however, that clients and patients are not so rare as hundreds of thousands of armed men and millions of money." "Brother," said Jack, "your cavalry are routed and your infantry outflanked." "If you are determined to be a conqueror, let it be by the pen rather than by the sword--or, what do you say to oratory? It is not easier, perhaps, but, at all events, eloquence is not denied to ordinary mortals. You will not then, to be sure, rank with the Hannibals, the Tamerlanes, or the Cæsars; but you may attain a place with Demosthenes, who was more dreaded by Philip of Macedon than an army of soldiers." "Or Cicero," remarked Becker, "who preserved his country from the rapacity of Cataline." "Or Peter the Hermit," remarked Frank, "who by his eloquence roused Europe against the Saracens." "Or Bossuet," added Wolston, "and then you may venture to assert in the face of kings that _God alone is Great_, should they, like Louis XIV., assume the sun as an emblem, and adopt such a silly scroll as '_Nec pluribus impar_.'" "Bossuet, Peter the Hermit, Cicero, and Demosthenes, are not so bad, after all, as a last resource," remarked Mrs. Wolston, "and I would recommend you to enrol yourself in that list of conquerors, Master Fritz." "The more especially," observed Jack, "as you have no impediment in your voice, and would not have to undergo a course of pebbles like Demosthenes." "So far as that goes, Jack," replied Fritz, "you would possess a like advantage for the profession as myself; but I will take time to reflect." Then, turning towards his mother, he said, "Conqueror or Jack Pudding, mother, you shall always find me a dutiful son." His mother was more gratified by this expression of attachment than she would have been had he laid at her feet the four thousand golden spurs found, in 1302, on the field of Courtray. "And now, Ernest, what profession do you intend to adopt? what is your dream of the future?" "I, Mr. Wolston! Well, having no taste for artillery, brilliant charges, blood-stained ruins, and the other _agrémens_ of war, I cannot be a hero. Do you know when I feel most happy?" "No, let us hear." "It is towards evening, when I am reposing tranquilly on the banks of the Jackal." "Ah, I thought so," cried Jack; "no position so congenial to the true philosopher as the horizontal." "When the sun," continued Ernest, gravely, "is retiring behind the forest of cedars that bounds the horizon; when the palms, the mangoes, and gum trees, mass their verdure in distinct and isolated groups; when nature is making herself heard in a thousand melodious voices; when the hum of the insect is ringing in my ears, and the breeze is gently murmuring through the foliage; when thousands of birds are fluttering from grove to grove, sometimes breaking with their wings the smooth surface of the river; when the fish, leaping out of their own element, reflect for an instant from their silvery scales the departing rays of the sun; when the sea, stretching away like a vast plain of boundless space, loses itself in the distance, then my eyes and thoughts are sometimes turned upwards towards the azure of the firmament, and sometimes towards the objects around me, and I feel as if my mind were in search of something which has hitherto eluded its grasp, but which it is sure of eventually finding. Under these circumstances, I assure you, I would not exchange the moss on which I sat for the greatest throne in Christendom." "But surely you do not call such a poetical exordium a profession?" remarked Becker. "It must be admitted," said Wolston, "that the sun and trees have their uses, especially when the one protects us from the other; the sun, for example, dries up the moisture that falls from the trees, and the trees shelter us from the burning rays of the sun. Still, I am at a loss myself to connect these things with a profession in a social point of view." "What would you have thought," inquired Ernest, "if you had seen Newton and Kepler gazing at the sky, before the one had determined the movements of the celestial bodies, and the other the laws of gravitation? What would you have thought of Parmentier passing hours and days in manipulating a rough-looking bulb, that possessed no kind of value in the eyes of the vulgar, but which afterwards, as the potato, became the chief food of two-thirds of the population of Europe? What would you think of Jenner, with his finger on his brow, searching for a means of preserving humanity from the scourge of the small-pox?" "But these men had an object in view." "Jenner, yes; but not the other two. They thought, studied, contemplated, and reflected, satisfied that one day their thoughts, calculations, and reflections would aid in disclosing some mystery of Nature; but it would have perplexed them sorely to have named beforehand the nature and scope of their discoveries." "According to you, then," said Jack, "there could not be a more dignified profession than that of the scarecrow. The greatest dunderhead in Christendom might simply, by going a star-gazing, pass himself off as an adept in the occult sciences, and claim the right of being a benefactor of mankind in embryo." "At all events," replied Ernest, "you will admit that, so long as I am ready to bear my share of the common burdens, and take my part in providing for the common wants, and in warding of the common dangers, it is immaterial whether I occupy my leisure hours in reflection or in rifle practice." "Well," said Jack, "when you have made some discovery that will enrol your name with Descartes, Huygens, Cassini, and such gentlemen, you will do us the honor of letting us know." "With the greatest pleasure." "It is a pity that Herschell has invented the telescope: he might have left you a chance for the glory of that invention." "If I have not discovered a new star, brother, I discovered long ago that you would never be one." "Well, I hope not; their temperature is too unequal for me--they are either freezing or boiling: at least, so said Fritz the other day, whilst we were--all, what were we doing, Willis?" "We were supposed to be hunting." "Ah, so we were." "Now, Master Jack, it is your turn to enlighten us as to your future career." "It is quite clear, Mr. Wolston, that, since my brothers are to be so illustrious, I cannot be an ordinary mortal; the honor of the family is concerned, and must be consulted. I am, therefore, resolved to become either a great composer, like Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven; a renowned painter, like Titian, Carrache, or Veronese; or a great poet, like Homer, Virgil, Shakspeare, Dante, Milton, Goethe, and Racine." "That is to say," remarked Mrs. Wolston, "that you are resolved to be a great something or other." "Decidedly, madam; on reflection, however, as I value my eyesight, I must except Homer and Milton." "But have you not determined to which of the muses you will throw the handkerchief?" "I thought of music at first. It must be a grand thing, said I to myself, that can charm, delight, and draw tears from the eyes of the multitude--that can inspire faith, courage, patriotism, devotion and energy, and that, too, by means of little black dots with tails, interspersed with quavers, crotchets, sharps and flats." "Have you composed a sonata yet?" "No, madam; I was going to do so, but it occurred to me that I should require an orchestra to play it." "And not having that, you abandoned the idea?" "Exactly, madam. I then turned to poetry. That is an art fit for the gods; it puts you on a level with kings, and makes you in history even more illustrious than them. You ascend the capitol, and there you are crowned with laurel, like the hero of a hundred fights." "What is the subject of your principal work in this line?" "Well, madam, I once finished a verse, and was going on with a second, but, somehow or other, I could not get the words to rhyme." "Then it occurred to you that you had neither a printer nor readers, and you broke your lyre?" "I was about to reproach you, Master Jack," said Wolston, "for undertaking too many things at once; but I see the ranks are beginning to thin." "Beautiful as poetry may be," continued Jack, one gets tired of reading and re-reading one's own effusions." "It is even often intensely insipid the very first time," remarked Mrs. Wolston. "There still remains painting," continued Jack. "Painting is vastly superior to either music or poetry. In the first place, it requires no interpreter between itself and the public;--what, for example, remains of a melody after a concert? nothing but the recollection. Poesy may excite admiration in the retirement of one's chamber; your nostrils are, as it were, reposing on the bouquet, though often you have still a difficulty in smelling anything. But if once you give life to canvas, it is eternal." "Eternal is scarcely the proper word," remarked Wolston: "the celebrated fresco of Leonardo da Vinci, in the refectory of the Dominicans at Milan, is nothing but a confused mass of colors and figures." "I answer that by saying that the painting in question is only a fresco. Besides, I use the word eternal in a modified or relative sense. A painting is preserved from generation to generation, whilst its successive races of admirers are mingled with the dust. Then suppose a painter in his studio; he cannot look around him without awakening some memory of the past. He can associate with those he loves when they are absent, nay, even when they are dead, and they always remain young and beautiful as when he first delineated them." "Take care," cried Ernest, pushing back his seat, "if you go on at that rate you will take fire." "No fear of that, brother, unless you have a star or a comet in your pocket, in which case you are not far enough away yet." These occasional bickerings between Ernest and Jack were always given and taken in good part, and had only the effect of raising a good-humored laugh. "Let the painter," he continued, "fall in with a spot that pleases him, he can take it with him and have it always before his eyes. The hand of God or of man may alter the original, the forest may lose its trees, the old castle may be destroyed by fire or time, the green meadow may be converted into a dismal swamp, but to him the landscape always retains its pristine freshness, the same butterfly still flutters about the same bush, the same bee still sucks at the same flower." "Really," said Mrs. Wolston, "it is a pity, after all, that you did not achieve your second verse." "And yet," continued Jack, "that is only a copy. How much more sublime when we regard the painter as a creator! If there is in the past or present a heroic deed--if there is in the infinity of his life one moment more blessed than another, like Pygmalion he breathes into it the breath of life, and it becomes imperishable. Who would think a century or two hence of the victories of Fritz, unless the skill of the painter be called in to immortalize them!" "I agree with you in thinking that the arts you name are the source of beautiful and legitimate emotions. But generally it is better to view them as a recreation or pastime, rather than a profession. They have doubtless made a few men live in posterity, but, on the other hand, they have embittered and shortened the lives of thousands." "You will never guess what led me to adopt this art in preference to the two others. It was the discovery, that we made some years ago, of a gum tree, the name of which I do not recollect." "The myrica cerifera," said Ernest. "From the gum of this tree the varnish may be made. Now, like my brother, who, when he sees the sun overhead, considers he ought to profit by the circumstance and become a discoverer, so I said to myself: You have varnish, all you want, therefore, to produce a magnificent painting is canvas, colors, and talent; consequently, you must not allow such an opportunity to pass--it would be unpardonable. Accordingly, I set to work with an energy never before equalled; and," added he, showing the design he had just finished, "here are two eyes and a nose, that I do not think want expression." "Capital!" said Mrs. Wolston; "your painting will be in admirable keeping with the hangings my daughters have promised to work for your mamma." "Nobody can deny," continued Jack, laughing, "that the colony is advancing in civilization; it already possesses a conqueror, a member of the Royal Society minus the diploma, and an Apelles in embryo." "It is now your turn, Frank." "I," replied Frank, in his mild but penetrating voice, "if I may be allowed to liken the flowers of the garden to the occupations of human life, I should prefer the part of the violet." "It hides itself," said Mrs. Wolston, "but its presence is not the less felt." "When I have allowed myself to indulge in dreams of the future, I have pictured myself dwelling in a modest cottage, partially shrouded in ivy, not very far from the village church. My coat is a little threadbare." "Why threadbare?" inquired Sophia. "Because there are a number of very poor people all round me, and I cannot make up my mind to lay out money on myself when it is wanted by them." "Such a coat would be sacred in our eyes," said Mrs. Wolston. "In the morning I take a walk in my little garden; I inspect the flowers one after the other; chide my dog, who is not much of a florist; then, perhaps, I retire to my study, where I am always ready to receive those who may require my aid, my advice, or my personal services." Here Mrs. Wolston shook Frank very warmly by the hand. "Sometimes I go amongst the laborers in the fields, talk to them of the rain, of the fine weather, and of HIM who gives both. I enter the home of the artizan, cheer him in his labors, and interest myself in the affairs of his family; I call the children by their names, caress them, and make them my friends. I talk to them of our Redeemer, and thus, in familiarly conversing with the young, I find means of instructing the old. They, perhaps, tell me of a sick neighbor; I direct my steps there, and endeavor to mitigate the pangs of disease by words of consolation and hope; I strive to pour balm on the wounded spirit, and, if the mind has been led away by the temptations of the world, I urge repentance as a means of grace. If death should step in, then I kneel with those around, and join them in soliciting a place amongst the blessed for the departed soul." "We shall all gladly aid you in such labors of love," said Mrs. Wolston. "When death has deprived a family of its chief support, then I appeal to those whom God has blessed with the things of this world for the means of assisting the widow and the fatherless. To one I say, 'You regret having no children, or bemoan those you have lost; here are some that God has sent you.' I say to another, 'You have only one child, whilst you have the means of supporting ten; you can at least charge yourself with two.' Thus I excite the charity of some and the pity of others, till the bereaved family is provided for. I obtain work for those that are desirous of earning an honest living, I bring back to the fold the sheep that are straying, and rescue those that are tottering on the brink of infidelity." Here the girls came forward and volunteered to assist Frank in such works of mercy. "I accept your proffered aid, my dear girls, but, as yet, I am only picturing a future career for myself. After a day devoted to such labors as these, I return to my home, perhaps to be welcomed by a little circle of my own, for I hope to be received as a minister of the Protestant Church, and, as such, may look forward to a partner in my joys and troubles. Should Providence, however, shape my destiny otherwise, I shall have the poor and afflicted--always a numerous family--to bestow my affections upon. But, whilst much of my time is thus passed amongst the sorrowing and the sick, still there are hours of gaiety amongst the gloom--there are weddings, christenings, and merrymakings--there are happy faces to greet me as well as sad ones--and I am no ascetic. I take part in all the innocent amusements that are not inconsistent with my years or the gravity of my profession--but you seem sad, Mrs. Wolston." "Yes, Frank; you have recalled my absent son, Richard, so vividly to my memory, that I cannot help shedding a tear." "Is your son in orders then, madam?" "He is precisely what you have pictured yourself to be, a minister of the gospel, and a most exemplary young man." "If," remarked Becker, "we have hitherto refrained from inquiring after your son, madam, it was because we had no wish to recall to your mind the distance that separated you from him, and we should be glad to know his history." "There is little to relate; he is very young yet, and as soon as he had obtained his ordination, he was offered a mission to Oregon, which he accepted; but the ship having been detained at the Cape of Good Hope, he regarded the accident as a divine message, to convert the heathen of Kafraria, where he now is." "It is no sinecure to live amongst these copper-colored rascals," said Willis; "they are constantly stealing the cattle of the Dutch settlers in their neighborhood. About twelve years ago, our ship was stationed at the Cape, and I was sent with a party of blue jackets into the interior, as far as Fort Wiltshire, on the Krieskamma, the most remote point of the British possessions in South Africa. There we dispersed a cloud of them that had been for weeks living upon other people's property. They are tall, wiry fellows, as hardy as a pine tree, and as daring as buccaneers. The chief of the _kraals_, or huts, wear leopard or panther skins, and profess to have the power of causing rain to fall, besides an endless number of other miraculous attributes. Amongst them, a wife of the ordinary class costs eight head of cattle, but the price of a young lady of the higher ranks runs as high as twenty cows. When a Kafir is suspected of a crime, his tongue is touched seven times with hot iron, and if it is not burnt he is declared innocent." "I am afraid," said Jack, "if they were all subjected to that test, they would be found to be a very bad lot. But now, since we have all decided upon a profession, let us hear what the young ladies intend doing with themselves; let them consult their imagination for a beautiful future gilded with sunshine, and embroidered with gold." "There is only one occupation for women," said Mrs. Becker, "and that is too well defined to admit of speculation, and too important to admit of fanciful embellishments." "Well, then, mother, let us hear what it is." "It is to nurse you, and rear you, when you are unable to help yourselves; to guide your first steps, and teach you to lisp your first syllables. For this purpose, God has given her qualities that attract sympathy and engender love. She is so constituted as to impart a charm to your lives, to share in your labors, to soothe you when you are ruffled, to smooth your pillow when you are in pain, and to cherish you in old age; bestowing upon you, to your last hour, cares that no other love could yield. These, gentlemen, are the duties and occupations of women; and you must admit, that if it is not our province to command armies, or to add new planets to the galaxy of the firmament; that if we have not produced an Iliad or an Ænead, a Jerusalem Delivered, or a Paradise Lost, an Oratorio of the Creation, a Transfiguration, or a Laocoon, we have not the less our modest utility." "I should think so, mother," replied Jack; "it would take no end of philosophers to do the work of one of you." "It surprises me," said Willis, "that not one of you has selected the finest profession in the world--that of a sailor." "The finest profession of the sea, you mean, Willis. There is no doubt of its being the finest that can be exercised on the ocean, since it is the only one. If it is the best, Willis, it is also the worst." "It has also produced great men," continued Willis; "there are Columbus, Vasco de Gama, and Captain Cook, to whom you are indebted for a new world." "No thanks to them for that," said Jack; "if they had not discovered a new world we should have been in an old one." "That does not follow," remarked Ernest; "the new world would have existed even if it had not been discovered, and you might have found your way there all the same." "Not very likely," replied Jack, "unless one of the stars you intend to discover had shown us the way; otherwise it would only have existed in conjecture; and as nobody under such circumstances would have dreamt of settling in it, they would not have been shipwrecked during the voyage." "Very true," remarked Fritz; "if we had not been here we should, very probably, have been somewhere else, and perhaps in a much worse plight. Let me ask if there is any one here who regrets his present position?" Willis was about to reply to this question, but Sophia observing that there was something wrong with the handkerchief that he wore round his neck, hastened towards him to put it to rights, and he was silent. The hour had now arrived when the families separated for the night. Mary was preparing as usual to recite the evening prayer, but before doing so she whispered a few words in her mother's ear. "Yes, my child;" and, turning to Frank, she added, "Since you are determined to adopt the ministry as a profession, it is but right that we should for the future entrust ourselves to your prayers." The two families were now located in their respective eyries; and Jack, whilst escorting the Wolstons to the foot of their tree, said to Sophia, "I thought the chimpanzee had been playing some prank." "So he has. Has nobody told you of it?" "No, not a soul." "Then I will be as discreet as my neighbors; good night, Master Jack." CHAPTER XIII. HERBERT AND CECILIA--THE LITTLE ANGELS--A CATASTROPHE--THE DEPARTURE--MARRIAGE OF THE DOGE WITH THE ADRIATIC--SOVEREIGNS OF THE SEA--DANTE AND BEATRIX--ELEONORA AND TASSO--LAURA AND PETRARCH--THE RETURN--SURPRISES--WHAT ONE FINDS IN TURBOTS--A HORROR--THE PRICE OF CRIME--BALLOONING--PHILIPSON AND THE CHOLERA--A METAMORPHOSIS--ADVENTURE OF THE CHIMPANZEE--ARE YOU RICH? Next day the sky was shrouded in dense masses of cloud, some grey as lead, some livid as copper, and some black as ink. Towards evening the two families, as usual, resolved themselves into a talking party, and Wolston, requesting them to listen, began as follows:-- "There were two rich merchants in Bristol, between whom a very close intimacy had for a long time existed. One of them, whom I shall call Henry Foster, had a daughter; and the other, Nicholas Philipson, had a son, and the two fathers had destined these children for one another. The boy was a little older than the girl, and their tastes, habits, and dispositions seemed to fit them admirably for each other, and so to ratify the decision of the parents. Little Herbert and Cecilia were almost constantly together. They had a purse in common, into which they put all the pieces of bright gold they received as presents on birthdays and other festive occasions. In summer, when the two families retired to a retreat that one of them had in the country, the children were permitted to visit the cottagers, and to assist the distressed, if they chose, out of their own funds--a permission which they availed themselves of so liberally that they were called by the country people the two little angels." "What a pity there are no poor people here!" said Sophia, dolefully. "Why?" inquired her mother. "Because we might assist them, mamma." "It is much better, however, as it is, my child; our assistance might mitigate the evils of poverty, but might not be sufficient to remove them." This reasoning did not seem conclusive to Sophia, who shook her head and commenced plying her wheel with redoubled energy. "When Herbert Philipson was twelve years of age he was sent off to school, and Cecilia was confided to the care of a governess, who, under the direction of Mrs. Foster, was to undertake her education. But neither music nor drawing, needlework, grammars nor exercises, could make little Cecilia forget her absent companion. Absence, that cools older friendships, had a contrary effect on her heart; the months, weeks, days, and hours that were to elapse before Herbert returned for the holidays, were counted and recounted. When that period--so anxiously desired--at length arrived, there was no end of rejoicing: she told Herbert of all the little boys and little girls she had clothed and fed, of the old people she had relieved, of the tears she had shed over tales of woe and misery, how she had carried every week a little basket covered with a white napkin to widow Robson, how often she had gone into the damp and dismal cottage of the dying miner, and how happy she always made his wife and their nine pitiful looking children." "That is a way of conquering human hearts," remarked Mrs. Becker, "often more effective than those referred to the other day." "Once, when Herbert was at home for the holidays, he accompanied Cecilia on her charitable visits, and was greatly surprised to find that blessings were showered upon his own head wherever they went; people, whom he had never seen before, insisted upon his being their benefactor. This he could not make out. At last, by an accident, he discovered the secret--Cecilia had been distributing her gifts in his name! He remonstrated warmly against this, declaring that he had no wish to be praised and blessed for doing things that he had no hand in. Finding that his protestations were of no avail, he determined, on the eve of his returning to school, to have his revenge." "He did not buy Cecilia a doll, did he?" inquired Jack. "No; he collected all the eatables, clothing, blankets, and money he could obtain; went amongst the poorest of the cottages, and distributed the whole in Cecilia's name." "Ah," remarked Mrs. Becker, "it is a pity we could not all remain at the age of these children, with the same purity, the same innocence, and the same freshness of sensation; the world would then be a veritable Paradise." "For some years this state of things continued, the affection between the young people strengthened as they grew older, the occasional holiday time was always the happiest of their lives. Herbert, in due course, was transferred from school to college, where he obtained a degree, and rapidly verged into manhood. Cecilia from the girl at length bloomed into the young lady. A day was finally fixed when they were to be bound together by the holy ties of the church; everything was prepared for their union, when the commercial world was startled by the announcement that Philipson was a ruined man. A ship in which he had embarked a valuable freight had been wrecked, and an agent to whom he had entrusted a large sum of money had suddenly disappeared." "How deplorable!" cried Fritz. "Not so very unfortunate, after all," remarked Mary. "What makes you think so?" "Because nothing had occurred to interrupt the marriage; only one of the families was ruined, and there was still enough left for both." "But," said Fritz, "even admitting that the friendship between the two families continued uninterrupted, and that the father of Cecilia was willing to share his property with the father of Herbert, still the young man, in the parlance of society, was a beggar; and it is always hard for a man to owe his position to a woman, and to become, as it were, the _protégé_ of her whom he ought rather to protect." "If that is the view you take, Master Fritz, then I agree with you that the misfortune was deplorable," said Mary, bending at the same time to hide her blushes, under pretence of mending a broken thread. "And what if Cecilia's father had been ruined instead of Herbert's?" inquired Jack. "I should say," replied Sophia, "that we have as much right to be proud and dignified as you have." "The best way in such a case," observed Willis, laughing, "would be for both parties to get ruined together." "Herbert," continued Wolston, "was a youth of resolution and energy. He entertained the same opinion as Fritz; and instead of wasting his time in idle despondency, got together some articles of merchandise, and sailed for the Indian Archipelago, promising his friends that he would return to his native land in two years." "Two years is a long time," remarked Mary; "but sometimes it passes away very quickly." "Ah!" observed Sophia, Cecilia, in the meantime, would redouble her charities and her prayers." "The two years passed away, then a third, and then a fourth, but not a single word had either been heard of or from the absentee. Cecilia was rich, and her hand was sought by many wealthy suitors, but hitherto she had rejected them all." "The dear, good Cecilia," cried Sophia. "Up till this period the family had permitted her to have her own way. But as it is necessary for authority to prevent excesses of all kinds, they thought it time now to interfere; they could not allow her to sacrifice her whole life for a shadow. Her parents, therefore, insisted upon her making a choice of one or other of the suitors for her hand. She requested grace for one year more, which was granted." "Come back, truant, quick; come back, Master Herbert!" cried Sophia. "There now, Willis," cried Jack, "you see the effect of your new world; people go away there, and never come back again." "Oh, but you must bring him back in time, father; you must indeed," urged Sophia. "If it were only a romance I were relating to you, Sophia, I could very easily bring him back; but the narrative I am giving you is a matter of fact, which I cannot alter at will. There would be no difficulty in bringing a richly-laden East Indiaman, commanded by Captain Philipson, into the Severn, and making Herbert and Cecilia conclude the story in each other's arms, but it would not be true." "Then if I had been Cecilia, I should have become a nun," said Mary, timidly. "Exaggeration, my daughter, is an enemy to truth. It is easy to say, 'I would become a nun,' and in Roman Catholic countries it is quite as easy to become one; but, though it may be sublime to retire in this way from the world, it is frightful when a woman has afterwards to regret the inconsiderate step she has taken, and which is often the case with these poor creatures." "As you said of myself," remarked Willis, "it is a crime to go down with a sinking ship so long as there is a straw to cling to." "I presume," continued Wolston, "that during this year poor Cecilia prayed fervently for the return of her old playfellow; but her prayers were all in vain, the year expired, and still no news of the young man; at last she despaired of ever seeing him again, and, after a severe struggle with herself, she decided upon complying with the desire of her parents and her friends. A few months after the expiring of the year of grace, she was the affianced bride of a highly respectable, well-to-do, middle-aged gentleman. John Lindsey, her intended husband, could not boast of his good looks; he was little, rather stout, was deeply pitted in the face with the small-pox, and had a very red nose, but he was considered by the ladies of Bristol as a very good match for all that." "Oh, Cecilia, how ridiculous!" exclaimed Sophia. "Better, at all events, than turning nun," said Jack. "The family this season had gone to pass the summer at the sea-coast; and one day that Cecilia and her intended were taking their accustomed walk along the shore--" "Holloa!" cried Jack, "the truant is going to appear, after all." "John Lindsey, observing a ring of some value upon Cecilia's finger, politely asked her if she had any objections to tell him its history. She replied that she had none, and told him it was a gift of young Philipson's. 'I am well acquainted with your story,' said Lindsey, 'and do not blame the constancy with which you have treasured the memory of that young man; on the contrary, I respect you for it--in fact, it was the knowledge of your self-sacrifice to this affection and all its attendant circumstances, that led me to solicit the honor of your hand; for, said I to myself, one who has evinced so much devotion for a mere sentiment, is never likely to prove unfaithful to sacred vows pledged at the altar,' 'Come what may, you may at least rely upon that, sir,' she answered. 'Then,' continued Lindsey, 'as an eternal barrier is about to be placed between yourself and your past affections, perhaps you will pardon my desire to separate you, as much as possible, from everything that is likely to recal them to your mind.' Saying that, he gently drew the ring from her finger, and threw it into the sea." It was strongly suspected that Mary shed a tear at this point of the recital. "It is all over with you now, Herbert," cried Fritz. "You had better make a bonfire of your ships, like Fernando Cortez in Mexico; or, if you are on your way home, better pray for a hurricane to swallow you up, than have all your bright hopes dashed to atoms, when you arrive in port." "I am only a little girl," said Sophia; "but I know what I should have said, if the gentleman had done the same thing to me." "And what would you have said, child?" inquired her mother. "I should have said, that I was not the Doge of Venice, and had no intention of marrying the British Channel." "Can you describe the ceremony to which you refer?" "Yes; but it would interrupt papa's story, and Jack would laugh at me." "Never mind my story," replied her father, "there is plenty of time to finish that." "And as for me," said Jack, "though I do not wear a cocked hat and knee breeches, and though, in other respects, my tailor has rather neglected my outward man, still I know what is due to a lady and a queen." "There, he begins already!" said Sophia. "Never mind him, child; go on with your account of the marriage." "Well," began Sophia, "for a long time, there had been disputes between the states of Bologna, Ancona, and Venice, as to which possessed the sovereignty of the Adriatic." "If it had been a dispute about the Sovereignty of the ocean in general," remarked Willis, "there would have been another competitor." "Venice," continued Sophia, "carried the day, and about 1275 or 76 she resolved to celebrate her victory by an annual ceremony. For this purpose, a magnificent galley was built, encrusted with gold, silver, and precious stones. This floating _bijou_ was called the _Bucentaure_, was guarded in the arsenal, whence it was removed on the eve of the Ascension. Next day the Doge, the patriarch, and the Council of Ten embarked, and the galley was towed out to the open sea, but not far from the shore. There, in the presence of the foreign ambassadors, whilst the clergy chanted the marriage service, the Doge advanced majestically to the front of the galley, and there formally wedded the sea." "He might have done worse," observed Willis. "The ceremony," continued Sophia, "consisted in the Doge throwing a ring into the sea, saying, 'We wed thee, O sea! to mark the real and perpetual dominion we possess over thee.'" "And it may be added," observed Becker, "that the history of Venice shows how religiously the spouses of the Adriatic kept their vows." "Now," said Sophia, "that I have told my tale, let us hear what became of Cecilia." "Well, the marriage took place the morning after Herbert's ring had been thrown to the fishes. Whilst the bride, bridegroom, and their friends were congratulating each other over the wedding breakfast, as is usual in England on such occasions, Cecilia's father was called out of the room." "Too late," remarked Fritz. "Herbert Philipson had arrived that same morning; but, as Fritz observes, he was just an hour too late. He had acquired a fortune, but his long-cherished hopes of happiness were completely blasted." "Why did he stay away five years without writing?" inquired Mrs. Wolston. "He had written several times, but at that time no regular post had been established, and his letters had never reached their destination." "When did he find out that Cecilia was married?" "Well, some people think it more humane to kill a man by inches rather than by a single blow of the axe. Not so with Herbert's friends; the first news that greeted him on landing were, that his ever-remembered Cecilia was probably at that moment before the altar pledging her vows to another." "I should rather have had a chimney-pot tumble on my head," remarked Willis. "Herbert was a man in every sense of the word--the mode of his departure proves that. On hearing this painful intelligence, he simply covered his face with his hands, and, after a moment's thought, resolved to see his lost bride at least once more." "Poor Herbert!" sighed Mary. "Foster was thunderstruck when the stranger declared himself to be the son of his old friend; and, after cordially bidding him welcome, sorrowfully asked him what he meant to do. 'I should wish to see Mrs. Lindsey in presence of her husband,' he replied, 'providing you have no objections to introduce me to the company.'" "Bravo!" ejaculated Willis. "Foster could not refuse this favor to an unfortunate, who had just been disinherited of his dearest hopes. He, therefore, took Herbert by the hand and led him into the room. Nobody recognized him. 'Ladies and gentlemen,' said he, 'permit me to introduce Mr. Herbert Philipson, who has just arrived from Sumatra.' You may readily conceive the dismay this unexpected announcement called up into the countenances of the guests. There was only one person in the room who was calm, tranquil, and unmoved--that person was Cecilia herself. She rose courteously, bade him welcome, hoped he was well, coolly asked him why he had not written to his friends, and politely asked him to take a seat beside herself and husband, just, for all the world, as if he had been some country cousin or poor relation to whom she wished to show a little attention." "I would rather have been at the bottom of the sea than in her place, for all that," said Mary. "Why? She had nothing to reproach herself with. Had she not waited long enough for him?" "Young heads," remarked Becker, "are not always stored with sense. A foolish pledge, given in a moment of thoughtlessness is often obstinately adhered to in spite of reason and argument. The young idea delights in miraculous instances of fidelity. What more charming to a young and ardent mind than the loves of Dante and Beatrix, of Eleonora and Tasso, of Petrarch and Laura, of Abelard and Heloise, or of Dean Swift and Stella? Young people do not reflect that most of these stories are apocryphal, and that the men who figure in them sought to add to their renown the prestige of originality; they put on a passion as ordinary mortals put on a new dress, they yielded to imagination and not to the law of the heart, and almost all of them paid by a life of wretchedness the penalty of their dreams." "That is, I presume," remarked Mrs. Wolston, "you do not object to any reasonable amount of constancy, but you object to its being carried to an unwarrantable excess." "Exactly so, madam," replied Becker; "constancy, like every thing else when reasonable limits are exceeded, becomes a vice." "The merriments of the marriage breakfast," continued Wolston "slightly interrupted by the arrival of the new guest, were resumed. Fresh dishes were brought in, and, amongst others, a fine turbot was placed on the table. The gentleman who was engaged in carving the turbot struck the fish-knife against a hard substance." "I know what!" exclaimed two or three voices. "I rather think not," said Wolston, drily. "Oh, yes, the ring! the ring!" "No, it was merely the bone that runs from the head to the tail of the fish." "Oh, father," cried Sophia, "how can you tease us so?" "If they had found the ring," replied Wolston, laughing, "I should have no motive for concealing it. Fruit was afterwards placed before Herbert, and, when nobody was looking, he pulled a clasped dagger out of his pocket." Here Sophia pressed her hands closely on her ears, in order to avoid hearing what followed. "It was a very beautiful poignard," continued Wolston, "and rather a bijou than a weapon; and, as the servants had neglected to hand him a fruit-knife, he made use of it in paring an apple." "Is it all over?" inquired Sophia, removing a hand from one ear. "Alas! yes!" said Jack, lugubriously, "he has been and done it." "O the monster!" "Travelling carriages having arrived at the door for the bridal party, Herbert quietly departed." "What!" exclaimed Sophia, "did they not arrest and drag him to prison?" "Oh," replied Jack, "the crime was not so atrocious as it appears." "Not atrocious!" "No; you must bear in mind that young Philipson had passed the preceding five years of his life amongst demi-savages, whose manners and customs he had, to a certain extent, necessarily contracted. In some countries, what we call crimes are only regarded as peccadillos. In France, for example, till very lately, there existed what was called the law of _combette_, by right of which pardon might be obtained for any misdeed on payment of a certain sum of money. There was a fixed price for every imaginable crime. A man might consequently be a Blue Beard if he liked, it was only necessary to consult the tariff in the first instance, and see to what extent his means would enable him to indulge his fancy for horrors." "On quitting the house," continued Wolston, "Herbert Philipson bent his way to the shore, and shortly after was observed to plunge into the sea." "So much the better," exclaimed Sophia; "it saved his friends a more dreadful spectacle." "The weather being fine and the water warm, Herbert enjoyed his bath immensely; he then returned to his hotel, went early to bed, and slept soundly till next morning." "The wretch!" cried Sophia, "to sleep soundly after assassinating his old playfellow, who had suffered so much on his account." "It is pretty certain," continued Wolston, "that, if Philipson had been left entirely to himself, he would always have shown the same degree of moderation he had hitherto displayed." "Oh, yes, moderation!" said Sophia. "But his friends began to prate to him about the shameful way he had been jilted by Cecilia, and, by constantly reiterating the same thing, they at last succeeded in persuading him that he was an ill-used man. His self-esteem being roused by this silly chatter, he began to affect a ridiculous desolation, and to perpetrate all manner of outrageous extravagances." "Bad friends," remarked Willis, "are like sinking ships; they drag you down to their own level." "The first absurd thing he did was to purchase a yacht, and when a storm arose that forced the hardy fishermen to take shelter in port, he went out to sea, and it is quite a miracle that he escaped drowning. Then, if there were a doubtful scheme afloat, he was sure to take shares in it. Nothing delighted him more than to go up in a balloon; he would have gladly swung himself on the car outside if the proprietor had allowed him." "I have often seen balloons in the air," remarked Willis, "but I could never make out their dead reckoning." "A balloon," replied Ernest, "is nothing more than an artificial cloud, and its power of ascension depends upon the volume of air it displaces. "Very good, Master Ernest, so far as the balloon itself is concerned; but then there is the weight of the car, passengers, provisions, and apparatus to account for." "Hydrogen gas, used in the inflation of balloons, is forty times lighter than air. If a balloon is made large enough, the weight of the car and all that it contains, added to that of the gas, will fall considerably short of the weight of the air displaced by the machine." "I suppose it rises in the air just as an empty bottle well corked rises in the water?" "Very nearly. Air is lighter than water; consequently, any vessel filled with the one will rise to the surface of the other. So in the case of balloons. The gas, in the first place, must be inclosed in an envelope through which it cannot escape. Silk prepared with India-rubber is the material usually employed. As the balloon rises, the gas in the interior distends, because the air becomes lighter the less it is condensed by its superincumbent masses; hence it is requisite to leave a margin for this increase in the volume of the gas, otherwise the balloon would burst in the air." "If a balloon were allowed to ascend without hindrance where would it stop?" "It would continue ascending till it reached a layer of air as light as the gas; beyond that point it could not go." "And if the voyagers do not wish to go quite so far?" "Then there is a valve by which the gas may be allowed to escape, till the weight of the machine and its volume of air are equal, when it ceases to ascend. If a little more is permitted to escape, the balloon descends." "And should it land on the roof of a house or the top of a tree, the voyagers have their necks broken." "That can only happen to bunglers; there is not the least necessity for landing where danger is to be apprehended. When the aeronaut is near the ground, and sees that the spot is unfavorable for debarkation, he drops a little ballast, the balloon mounts, and he comes down again somewhere else." "The fellow that made the first voyage must have been very daring." "The first ascent was made by Montgolfier in 1782, and he was followed by Rosiers and d'Arlandes." "With your permission, father," said Ernest, "I will claim priority in aerial travelling for Icarus, Doedalus, and Phaeton." "Certainly; you are justified in doing so. Gay-Lussac, a philosophic Frenchman, rose, in 1804, to the height of seven thousand yards." "He must have felt a little giddy," remarked Jack. "Most of the functions of the body were affected, more or less, by the extreme rarity of the air at that height. Its dryness caused wet parchment to crisp. He observed that the action of the magnetic needle diminished as he ascended, sounds gradually ceased to reach his ear, and the wind itself ceased to be felt." "That, of course," remarked Ernest, "was when he was travelling in the same direction and at the same speed." "Well," said Jack, "we can find materials here for a balloon; the ladies have silk dresses, there is plenty of India-rubber--we used to make boots and shoes of it; hydrogen gas can be obtained from a variety of substances. What, then, is to prevent us paying a visit to some of Ernest's friends in the skies?" "Unfortunately for your project, Jack, no one has discovered the art of guiding a balloon; consequently, instead of finding yourself at _Cassiope_, you might land at _Sirius_, where your reception would be somewhat cool." "But what became of Herbert?" inquired one of the ladies. "Singularly enough, he escaped all the dangers he so recklessly braved, and all the bad speculations he embarked in turned out good. Somehow or other, the moment he took part in a desperate scheme it became profitable." "Ah!" exclaimed Sophia, "his victim, like a guardian angel, continued to watch over him." "When the cholera appeared in England, he was sure to be found where the cases were most numerous. He followed up the pest with so much pertinacity and publicity, that it was no unusual thing to find it announced in the newspapers that Philipson and the cholera had arrived in such and such a town." "The bane and the antidote," remarked Jack. "If Cecilia had been one of those women who delight in horse-racing, fox-hunting, opera-boxes, and public executions, she would have been highly amused to see her old friend's name constantly turning up under such extraordinary circumstances." "Is she not dead, then?" inquired Sophia, with astonishment, "It appears that her wounds were not mortal," quietly replied her mother. "Besides," observed Jack, "there are human frames so constituted that they can bear an immense amount of cutting and slashing. So in the case of animals; there, for instance, is the fresh-water polypus--if you cut this creature lengthwise straight through the middle, a right side will grow on the one half and a left side on the other, so that there will be two polypi instead of one. The same thing occurs if you cut one through the middle crosswise, a head grows on the one half and a tail on the other, so that you have two entire polypi either way." "And you may add," observed Ernest, "since so interesting a subject is on the _tapis_, that if two of these polypi happen to quarrel over their prey, the largest generally swallows the smallest, in order to get it out of the way; and the latter, with the exception of being a little cramped for space, is not in the slightest degree injured by the operation." "And does that state of matters continue any length of time?" "The polypus that is inside the other may probably get tired of confinement, in which case it makes its exit by the same route it entered; but, if too lazy to do that, it makes a hole in the body of its antagonist and gets out that way. But, what is most curious of all, these processes do not appear to put either of the creatures to the slightest inconvenience." "I am quite at a loss to make you all out," said Sophia. "Well, my child," replied her mother, "you should not close up your ears in the middle of a story." "Cecilia, or rather Mrs. Lindsey, however," continued Wolston, "was a pious, painstaking, simple-minded woman, who devoted her whole attention to her domestic duties. Notwithstanding her fortune, she did not neglect the humblest affairs of the household, and thought only of making her husband pleased with his home. When she was told of the vagaries of Philipson, she prayed in private that he might be led from his evil ways, and could not help thanking Providence that she was not the wife of such a dreadful scapegrace." "I should think so," remarked Mrs. Becker. "At last, Herbert Philipson astonished even his own companions by a crowning act of folly. There was then a young woman in Bristol, of good parentage, but an unmitigated virago; her family were thoroughly ashamed of her temper and her exploits. They allowed her to have her own way, simply for fear that, through contradiction, she might plunge herself into even worse courses than those she now habitually followed. In short, she was the talk and jest of the whole town." "What a charming creature!" remarked Mrs. Becker. "No servant of her own sex could put up with her for two days together; she styled everybody that came near her fools and asses, and did not hesitate to strike them if they ventured to contradict her. She got on, however, tolerably well with ostlers, stable-boys, cabmen, and such like, because they could treat her in her own style, and were not ruffled by her abuse." "How amiable!" exclaimed Mrs. Wolston. "Herbert heard of this young person, and, through a fast friend of his own, obtained an introduction to her, and on the very first interview he offered her his hand. He was known still to be a wealthy man, so neither the lady herself nor anybody connected with her made the slightest objection to the match, thinking probably that, if there were six of the one, there were at least half a dozen of the other." "They ought to have gone to Bedlam, instead of to church," said Willis; "that is my idea." "Nevertheless, they went to church; and, after the marriage, Cecilia sought and obtained an introduction to the lady, and, whether by entreaties or by her good example, I cannot say; be this as it may, the unpromising personage in question became one of the best wives and the best mothers that ever graced a domestic circle--in this respect even excelling the pattern Cecilia herself; and, what is still more to the purpose, she succeeded in completely reforming her husband. When I left England there was not a more prosperous merchant, nor a more estimable man in the whole city of Bristol, than Herbert Philipson." "From which we may conclude," remarked Mrs. Becker, "it is always advisable to have angels for friends." "We may also conclude," remarked Mrs. Wolston, "that when a stroke of adversity, or any other misfortune, overturns the edifice of happiness we had erected for the future, we may build a new structure with fresh material, which may prove more durable than the first." "Talking of having angels for friends," said Becker, "puts me in mind of the association of Saint Louis Gonzaga, at Rome. On the anniversary of this saint, the young and merry phalanx forming the association march in procession to one of the public gardens. In the centre of this garden a magnificent altar has been previously erected, on which is placed a chafing-dish filled with burning coals. The procession forms itself into an immense ring round the altar, broken here and there by a band of music. These bands play hymns in honor of the saints, and other _morceaux_ of a sacred character. Each member of the association holds a letter inclosed in an embossed and highly ornamented envelope, bound round with gay-colored ribbons and threads of gold. These letters are messages from the young correspondents to their friends in heaven, and are addressed to 'Il Santo Giovane Luigi Gonzaga, in Paradiso.' At a given signal, the letters, in the midst of profound silence, are placed on the chafing-dish. This done, the music resounds on all sides, and the assembly burst out into loud acclamations, during which the letters are supposed to be carried up into heaven by the angels." "A curious and interesting ceremony," remarked Mrs. Wolston, "and one that may possibly do good, inasmuch as it may induce the young people composing the association to persevere in generous resolutions." The two families again separated for the night. And whilst the young men were escorting the Wolstons to their tree, Sophia went towards Jack. "Will you tell me," inquired she, "what happened whilst I had my ears closed up, Jack?" "Yes, with all my heart, if you will tell me first what the chimpanzee had been about during our absence." "Well, he got up into our tree when we were out of the way. After soaping his chin, he had taken one of papa's razors, and just as he was beginning to shave himself, some one entered and caught him." "Oh, is that all? What I have to tell you is a great deal more appalling than that." "Well, then, be quick." "But I am afraid you will be shocked." "Is it very dreadful?" "More so than you would imagine. If you dream about it during the night, you will not be angry with me for telling you?" "No, I will be courageous, and am prepared to hear the worst." "What was your father saying when you shut up your ears?" "Herbert had just pulled out a dagger." "And when you took your hands away?" "All was then over; Herbert had done some dreadful thing with the dagger, and I want to know what it was." "He pared an apple with it," replied Jack, bursting into a roar of laughter, and, running off, he left Sophia to her reflections. A few seconds after he returned. This time he had almost a solemn air, the laughter had vanished from his visage, like breath from polished steel. "Miss Sophia," inquired he gravely, "are you rich?" "I don't know, Master Jack; are you?" "Well, I have not the slightest idea either." CHAPTER XIV. THE TEARS OF CHILDHOOD AND RAIN OF THE TROPICS--CHARLES'S WAIN--VOLUNTARY ENLISTMENT--A LIKENESS GUARANTEED--THE WORLD AT PEACE--ALAS, POOR MARY!--THE SAME BREATH FOR TWO BEINGS--THE FIRST PILLOW--THE LOGIC OF THE HEART--HOW FRITZ SUPPORTED GRIEF--A GRAIN OF SAND AND THE HIMALAYA. At daybreak next morning, all the eyes in the colony were busily engaged in scrutinizing the sky. This time the operation seemed satisfactory, for immediately afterwards, all the hands were, with equal diligence, occupied in packing up and making other preparations for the meditated excursion to the remote dependencies of New Switzerland. The dense veil that the day before had shrouded them in gloom was now broken up into shreds. The azure depths beyond had assumed the appearance of a blue tunic bespattered with white, and the clouds suggested the idea of a celestial shepherd, driving myriads of sheep to the pasture. Children alone can dry up their tears with the rapidity of Nature in the tropics; perhaps we may have already made the remark, and must, therefore, beg pardon for repeating the simile a second time. In a short time, the two families were assembled on the lawn, in front of the domestic trees of Falcon's Nest, ready to start on their journey. The cow and the buffalo were yoked to the carriage, which was snugly covered over with a tarpauling, thrown across circular girds, like the old-fashioned waggons of country carriers. Frank mounted the box in front; Mrs. Becker, Wolston, and Sophia got inside; whilst Ernest and Jack, mounted on ostriches that had been trained and broken in as riding horses, took up a position on each side, where the doors of the vehicle ought to have been. These dispositions made, after a few lashes from the whip, this party started off at a brisk rate in the direction of Waldeck. It had been previously arranged that one half of the expedition should go by land, and the other half by water, and that on their return this order should be reversed, so that both the interior and the coast might be inspected at one and the same time. The only exception was made in favor of Willis, who was permitted both to go and return by sea. The second party, consisting of Mrs. Wolston, Becker, Mary, and Fritz, started on foot in the direction of the coast. They had not gone far before Becker observed a large broadside plastered on a tree. "What is that?" he inquired. Nobody could give a satisfactory reply. "Perhaps," suggested Mrs. Wolston, "paper grows ready made on the trees of this wonderful country." "They all approached, and, much to their astonishment, read as follows:-- "TAKE NOTICE. "The renowned Professor Ernest Becker is about to enlighten the benighted inhabitants of this country, by giving a course of lectures on optics. The agonizing doubts that have hitherto enveloped astronomical science, particularly as regards the interiors of the moon and the stars, have arisen from the absurd practice of looking at them during the night. These doubts are about to be removed for ever by the aforesaid professor, as he intends to exhibit the luminaries in question in open day. He will also place Charles's Wain[C] at the disposal of any one who is desirous of taking a drive in the Milky Way. The learned professor will likewise stand for an indefinite period on his head; and whilst in this position will clearly demonstrate the rotundity of the earth, and the tendency of heavy bodies to the centre of gravity. In order that the prices of admission may be in accordance with the intrinsic value of the lectures, nothing will be charged for the boxes, the entrance to the pit will be gratis, and the gallery will be thrown open for the free entry of the people. The audience will be expected to assume a horizontal position. Persons given to snoring are invited to stay at home." "I rather think I should know that style," remarked Willis. "It is a pity Ernest is not with us," observed Fritz; "but the placard will keep for a day or two." "They say laughing is good for digestion," remarked Mrs. Wolston; "and if so, it must be confessed that Master Jack is a useful member of the colony in a sanitary point of view." The party had scarcely advanced a hundred paces farther, when Fritz called out, "Holloa! there is another broadside in sight." This one was headed by a smart conflict between two ferocious looking hussars, and was couched in the following terms:-- "PROCLAMATION. "All the inhabitants of this colony capable of bearing arms, who are panting after glory, are invited to the Fig Tree, at Falcon's Nest, there to enrol themselves in the registry of Fritz Becker, who is about to undertake the conquest of the world. Nobody is compelled to volunteer, but those who hold back will be reckoned contumacious, and will be taken into custody, and kept on raw coffee till such time as they evince a serious desire to enlist. There will be no objection to recruits returning home at the end of the war, if they come out of it alive. Neither will there be any objections to the survivors bringing back a marshal's baton, if they can get one. The Commander-in-chief will charge himself with the fruits of the victory. Surgical operations will be performed at his cost, and cork legs will be served out with the rations. In the event of a profitable campaign, a monument will be erected to the memory of the defunct, by way of a reward for their heroism on the field of battle." "Well, Fritz," said Becker, with a merry twinkle in his eye, "you were sorry that Ernest was not present to hear the last placard read; fortunately, you are on the spot yourself this time." Fritz tried to look amused, but the attempt was a decided failure. When the party had gone a little farther, another announcement met their gaze; all were curious to know whose turn was come now; as they approached, the following interesting question, in large letters, stared them in the face:-- "HAVE YOU HAD YOUR PORTRAIT TAKEN YET? "It has been reserved for the present age, and for this prolific territory, so exuberant in cabbages, turnips, and other potables, to produce the greatest of living artists--real genius--who is destined to outshine all the Michel Angelos and Rubenses of former ages. Not that these men were entirely devoid of talent, but because they could do nothing without their palette and their paint brushes. Now that illustrious _maestro_, Mr. Jack Becker, has both genius and ingenuity, for he has succeeded in dispensing with the aforementioned troublesome auxiliaries of his art. His plan which has the advantage of not being patented, consists in placing his subject before a mirror, where he is permitted to stay till the portrait takes root in the glass. By this novel method the original and the copy will be subject alike to the ravages of time, so that no one, on seeing a portrait, will be liable to mistake the grand-mother for the grand-daughter. Likenesses guaranteed. Payments, under all circumstances, to be made in advance. "Ah, well," said Becker, laughing, "it appears that the scapegrace has not spared himself." "I hope there is not a fourth proclamation," said Mrs. Wolston. "There are no more trees on our route, at all events," replied Becker. "Glad to hear that; Jack must respect the avocation chosen by Frank, since he sees nothing in it to ridicule." As they drew near the Jackal River, in which the pinnace was moored, Mary and Fritz were a little in advance of the party. "Are you really determined to turn the world upside down, Master Fritz?" "At present, Miss Wolston, I am myself the sum and substance of my army, in addition to which I have not yet quite made up my mind." "It is an odd fancy to entertain to say the least of it." "Does it displease you?" "In order that it could do that, I must first have the right to judge your projects." "And if I gave you that right?" "I should find the responsibility too great to accept it. Besides, a determination cannot be properly judged, without putting one's self in the position of the person that makes it. You imagine happiness consists in witnessing the shock of armies, whilst I fancy enjoyment to consist in the calm tranquility of one's home. You see our views of felicity are widely different." "Not so very widely different as you seem to think, Miss Wolston. As yet my victories are _nil_; I have not yet come to an issue with my allies; to put my troops on the peace establishment I have only to disembody myself, and I disembody myself accordingly." "Oh!" exclaimed Mary, "you are very easily turned from your purpose." "Easily! no, Miss Wolston, not easily; you cannot admit that an objection urged by yourself is a matter of no moment, or one that can be slighted with impunity." "Ah! here we are at the end of our journey." "Already! the road has never appeared so short to me before." "What!" exclaimed Mrs. Wolston, coming up to her daughter, "you appear very merry." "Well, not without reason, mamma; I have just restored peace to the world." The pinnace was soon launched, and, under the guidance of Willis, was making way in the direction of Waldeck. The sea had not yet recovered from the effects of the recent storm; it was still, to use an expression of Willis, "a trifle ugly." Occasionally the waves would catch the frail craft amidships, and make it lurch in an uncomfortable fashion, especially as regarded the ladies, which obliged Willis to keep closer in shore than was quite to his taste. The briny element still bore traces of its recent rage, just as anger lingers on the human face, even after it has quitted the heart. Whilst the pinnace was in the midst of a series of irregular gyrations, a shrill scream suddenly rent the air, and at the same instant Fritz and Willis leaped overboard. _Mary had fallen into the sea_. Becker strained every nerve to stay the boat. Mrs. Wolston fell on her knees with outstretched hands, but, though in the attitude of prayer, not a word escaped her pallid lips. The two men floated for a moment over the spot where the poor girl had sunk; suddenly Fritz disappeared, his keen eye had been of service here, for it enabled him to descry the object sought. In a few seconds he rose to the surface with Mary's inanimate body in his left arm. Willis hastened to assist him in bearing the precious burden to the boat, and Becker's powerful arms drew it on deck. The joy that all naturally would have felt when this was accomplished had no time to enter their breasts, for they saw that the body evinced no signs of life, and a fear that the vital spark had already fled caused every frame to shudder. They felt that not a moment was to be lost; the resources of the boat were hastily put in requisition; mattresses, sheets, blankets, and dry clothes were strewn upon the deck. Mrs. Wolston had altogether lost her presence of mind, and could do nothing but press the dripping form of her daughter to her bosom. "Friction must be tried instantly," cried Becker; "here, take this flannel and rub her body smartly with it--particularly her breast and back." Mrs. Wolston instinctively followed these directions. "It is of importance to warm her feet," continued Becker; "but, unfortunately, we have no means on board to make a fire." Mrs. Wolston, in her trepidation, began breathing upon them. "I have heard," said the Pilot, "that persons rescued from drowning are held up by the feet to allow the water to run out." "Nonsense, Willis; a sure means of killing them outright. It is not from water that any danger is to be apprehended, but from want of air, or, rather, the power of respiration. What we have to do is to try and revive this power by such means as are within our reach." The Pilot, meantime, endeavored to introduce a few drops of brandy between the lips of the patient. Fritz stood trembling like an aspen leaf and deadly pale; he regarded these operations as if his own life were at stake, and not the patient's. "There remains only one other course to adopt, Mrs. Wolston," said Becker, "you must endeavor to bring your daughter to life by means of your own breath." "Only tell me what to do, Mr. Becker, and, if every drop of blood in my body is wanted, all is at your disposal." "You must apply your mouth to that of your daughter, and, whilst her nostrils are compressed, breathe at intervals into her breast, and so imitate the act of natural respiration." Stronger lungs than those of a woman might have been urgent under such circumstances, but maternal love supplied what was wanting in physical strength. The Pilot had turned the prow of the pinnace towards home; he felt that, in the present case at least, the comforts of the land were preferable to the charms of the sea. "This time it is not my breath, but her own," said Mrs. Wolston. "Her pulse beats," said Becker; "she lives." "Thank God!" exclaimed Fritz and Willis in one voice. A quarter of an hour had scarcely yet elapsed since the patient's first immersion in the sea; but this brief interval had been an age of agony to them all. As yet, her head lay quiescent on her mother's bosom, that first pillow, common alike to rich and poor, at the threshold of life. The%signs of returning animation gradually became more and more evident; at length, the patient gently raised her head, and glanced vacantly from one object to another; then, her eyes were turned upon herself, and finally rested upon Fritz and Willis, who still bore obvious traces of their recent struggle with the waves. Here she seemed to become conscious, for her body trembled, as if some terrible thought had crossed her mind. After this paroxysm had passed, she feebly inclined her head, as if to say--"I understand--you have saved my life--I thank you." Then, like those jets of flame that are no sooner alight than they are extinguished, she again became insensible. As soon as they reached the shore, Fritz hastened to Rockhouse, and made up a sort of palanquin of such materials as were at hand, into which Mary was placed, and thus was conveyed, with all possible care and speed, on the shoulders of the men to Falcon's Nest. A few hours afterwards she returned to consciousness and found herself in a warm bed, surrounded with all the comforts that maternal anxiety and Becker's intelligent mind could suggest. Fritz was unceasing in his exertions; no amount of fatigue seemed to wear him out. As soon as he saw that everything had been done for the invalid that their united skill could accomplish, he bridled an untrained ostrich, and rode or rather flew off in search of the land portion of the expedition. "Mary is saved," he cried, as he came up with them. "From what?" inquired Wolston, anxiously. "From the sea, that was about to swallow her up." "And by whom?" "By Willis, myself, and us all." The same evening, the two families were again assembled at Falcon's Nest, and thus, for a second time, the long talked-of expedition was brought to an abrupt conclusion. "Ah," said Willis, "we must cast anchor for a bit; yesterday it was the sky, to-day it was the sea, to-morrow it will be the land, perhaps--the wind is clearly against us." How often does it not happen, in our pilgrimage through life, that we have the wind against us? We make a resolute determination, we set out on our journey, but the object we seek recedes as we advance; it is no use going any farther--the wind is against us. We re-commence ten, twenty, a hundred times, but the result is invariably the same. How is this? No one can tell. What are the obstacles? It is difficult to say. Perhaps, we meet with a friend who detains us; perhaps, a recollection that our memory has called, induces us to swerve from the path--the blind man that sung under our window may have something to do with it--perhaps, it was merely a fly, less than nothing. It is not our minor undertakings, but rather our most important enterprises, that are frustrated by such trifles as these; for it must be allowed that we strive less tenaciously against an obstacle that debars us from a pleasure, than against one that separates us from a duty--in the one case we have to stem the torrent, in the other we sail with the current. When we observe some deplorable instance of a wrecked career--when we see a man starting in life with the most brilliant prospects collapsing into a dead-weight on his fellows, we are apt to suppose that some insurmountable barrier must have crossed his path--some Himalaya, or formidable wall, like that which does not now separate China from Tartary; but no such thing. Trace the cause to its source, and what think you is invariably found? A grain of sand; the unfortunate wretch has had the wind against him--nothing more. Rescued from the sea, Mary Wolston was now a prey to a raging fever. Ill or well, at her age there is no medium, either exuberant health or complete prostration; the juices then are turbulent and the blood is ardent. Somehow or other, a good action attaches the doer to the recipient; so, in the case of Fritz, apart from the brotherly affection which he had vaguely vowed to entertain for the two young girls that had so unexpectedly appeared amongst them, he now regarded the life of Mary as identical with his own, and felt that her death would inevitably shorten his own existence; "for," said he to himself, "should she die, I was too late in drawing her out of the water." In his tribulation and irreflection, he drew no line between the present and the past, but simply concluded, that if he saved her too late, he did not save her at all. Hope, nevertheless, did not altogether abandon him. He would sometimes fancy her restored to her wonted health, abounding in life and vigour. Then the pleasing thought would cross his mind that, but for himself, that charming being, in all probability, would have been a tenant of the tomb. Would that those who do evil only knew the delight that sometimes wells up in the breasts of those who do good! The first day of Mary's illness, Fritz bore up manfully. On the second, he joined his father and brothers in their field labors; but, whilst driving some nails into a fence, he had so effectually fixed himself to a stake that it was only with some difficulty that he could be detached. The third day, at sunrise, he called Mary's dog, shouldered his rifle, and was about to quit the house. "Where are you going?" inquired Jack. "I don't know--anywhere." "Anywhere! Well, I am rather partial to that sort of place; I will go with you." "But I must do something that will divert my thoughts. There may be danger." "Well I can help you to look up a difficulty." Every day the two brothers departed at sunrise, and returned together again in the evening. Mrs. Becker felt acutely their sufferings. She watched anxiously for the return of the two wanderers, and generally went a little way to meet them when they appeared in the distance. "She does not run to meet us," said Fritz, one day; "that is a bad sign." "Not a bit of it," replied Jack. "If she had any bad news to give us, she would not come at all." FOOTNOTES: [C] The constellation known in astronomy as the _Great Bear_ is in, some parts of England termed the _Plough_, and in others _Charles's Wain_ or _Waggon_. It may be added, that the same constellation is popularly known in France as the _Chariot of David_. CHAPTER XV. GOD'S GOVERNMENT--KING STANISLAUS--THE DAUPHIN SON OF LOUIS XV.--THE SHORTEST ROAD--NEW YEAR'S DAY--A MIRACLE--CLEVER ANIMALS--THE CALENDAR--MR. JULIUS CÆSAR AND POPE GREGORY XIII.--HOW THE DAY AFTER THE 4TH OF OCTOBER WAS THE 15TH--OLYMPIAD--LUSTRES--THE HEGIRA--A HORSE MADE CONSUL--JACK'S DREAM. Some men, when they regard the sinister side of events, are apt to call in question the axiom, Nothing is accomplished without the will of God. Why, they ask, do the wicked triumph? Why are the just oppressed? Why this evil? What is the use of that disaster? Was it necessary that Mary Wolston should be thrown into the sea, and that she should afterwards die in consequence of the accident? To these questions we reply, that God does not interrupt the ordinary course of His works. Man is a free agent in so far as regards his own actions; were it otherwise, we should not be responsible for our own crimes. We might as well plunge into vice as adhere to virtue; for we could not be called upon to expiate the one, nor could we hope to be rewarded for the other. It is not to be expected that God is to perform miracles at every instant for our individual benefit. It is unreasonable in us to suppose that, in obedience to our wishes or desires, He will alter His immutable laws. A foot slips on the brink of a precipice, and we are dashed to atoms. Our boat is upset in a squall, and we are drowned. Like Stanislaus Leszinsky, King of Poland, we fall asleep in the corner of a chimney, our clothes take fire, and we are burned to death. We go a hunting; we mistake a grey overcoat for the fur of a deer, and we kill our friend or his gamekeeper, as once happened to the son of Louis XV., who in consequence almost died of grief, and renounced forever a sport of which he was passionately fond. Did Providence will, exact, or pre-ordain all these calamities? Certainly not; but our Creator has seen fit to tolerate and permit them, since he did not interpose to prevent them. The government of God is a conception so wonderful, so sublime, that none but Himself can fathom its depths. Human intelligence is too finite to penetrate or comprehend a system so complex, and yet so uniform. The mind of man can only form a just idea of a cause when the effect has been made manifest to his understanding. There might have been a reason for the death of Mary Wolston--who knows? But if it were so, that reason was beyond the pale of mortal ken. Let us not, however, anticipate. Mary Wolston is not yet dead. On the contrary, when the ninth day of her illness had passed, Fritz and Jack were returning from an expedition, the nature of which was only known to themselves, but which, to judge from the packs that they bore on their backs, had been tolerably productive. The two young men observed their mother advancing, as usual, to meet them, but this time _she ran_. They had no need to be told in words that Mary Wolston was now out of danger; the serenity of their mother's countenance was more eloquent than the most elaborate discourse that ever stirred human souls. Mrs. Becker herself felt that words were superfluous, so she quietly took her son's arm, and they walked gently homewards, whilst Jack strode on before. On turning a corner of the road, the latter stumbled upon Wolston and Ernest, who, in the exuberance of their joy, had also come out to meet the hunters. They were, however, a little behind; but that was nothing new. These two members of the colony had become quite remarkable for procrastination and absence of mind. When Wolston the mechanician, and Ernest the philosopher, travelled in company, it was rare that some pebble or plant, or question in physics, did not induce them to deviate from their route or tarry on their way. One day they both started for Rockhouse to fetch provisions for the family dinner, but instead of bringing back the needful supplies of beef and mutton, they returned in great glee with the solution of an intricate problem in geometry. All fared very indifferently on that occasion, and, in consequence, Wolston and Ernest were, from that time on, deprived of the office of purveyors. In the present instance, instead of running like Mrs. Becker, they had philosophically seated themselves on the trunk of a tree. At their feet was a diagram that Wolston had traced with the end of his stick; this was neither a tangent nor a triangle, as might have been expected, but a figure denoting how to carve one's way to a position, amidst the rugged defiles of life. "In all things," observed Wolston, "in morals as well as physics, the shortest road from one point to another, is the straight line." "Unless," objected Ernest, "the straight line were encumbered with obstacles, that would require more time to surmount than to go round. Two leagues of clear road would be better than one only a single league in length, if intersected by ditches and strewn with wild beasts." "Bah!" cried Jack, who had just come up out of breath, "you might leap the one and shoot the others." "Your argument," replied Wolston, "is that of the savage, who can imagine no obstacles that are not solid and tangible. The obstacles that retard our progress in life neither display yawning chasms nor rows of teeth; they dwell within our own minds--they are versatility, disgust, ennui, thirst after the unknown, and love of change. These lead us to take bye-paths and long turnings, and fritter away the strength that should be used in promoting a single aim. Hence arise a multiplicity of hermaphrodite avocations and desultory studies, that terminate in nothing but vexation of spirit. Let us suppose, for example, that Peter has made up his mind to be a lawyer." "I do not see any particular reason why Peter should not be a lawyer," said Jack. "Nor I either; but unfortunately when Peter has pored a certain time over Coke upon Littleton, and other abstruse legal authorities, he accidentally witnesses a review; he throws down his books, and resolves to become a soldier." "After the manner and style of our Fritz," suggested Jack. "He changes the Pandects for Polybius, and Gray's Inn for a military school. All goes well for awhile; the idea of uniform helps him over the rudiments of fortification and the platoon exercise. He passes two examinations creditably, but breaks down at the third, in consequence of which he throws away his sword in disgust. He does not like now to rejoin his old companions in the Inn, who have been working steadily during the years he has lost. He therefore, perhaps, adopts a middle course, and gets himself enrolled in the society of solicitors, which does not exact a very elaborate diploma." "Well, after all, the difference between a barrister and a solicitor is not so great." "True; but the exercises to which he has been accustomed previously unfit him for the drudgeries of his new employment, and he soon abandons that, just as he abandoned the other two." "Your friend Peter is somewhat difficult to please," said Jack. "He then goes into business, a term which may mean a great deal or nothing at all; it admits of one's going about idle with the appearance of being fully occupied. Then a few unsuccessful speculations bring him back, at the end of his days, to the point whence he started--that is, zero." "Ah, yes, I see now," cried Jack, whilst he traced a diagram on the ground. "Poor Peter has always stopped in the middle of each profession and gone back to the starting point of another, thus passing his life in making zig-zags, and only moving from one zero to another." "Exactly," added Wolston: "whilst those who persevered in following up the profession they chose at first finally succeeded in attaining a position, and that simply by adhering to a straight line." Here Fritz and his mother arrived, arm in arm. "Ha! there you are," cried Ernest. "We were on our way to meet you." "You surely do not call sitting down there being on your way to meet us, do you?" "Well, yes, mother," suggested Jack, "on the principle that two bodies coming into contact meet each other." Like those flowers that droop during a storm, but recover their brilliancy with the first rays of the sun, so a few days more sufficed to restore Mary Wolston to better health than she had ever enjoyed in her life before. Some months now elapsed without giving rise to any event of note. All the men, women, and children in the colony had been busily employed from early morn to late at e'en. No sooner had one field been sown than there was another to plant; then came the grain harvest and its hard but healthy toil; next, much to the delight of Willis, herrings appeared on the coast, followed by their attendant demons, the sea-dogs; salmon-fishing, hunting ortolans, the foundries and manufactories, likewise exacted a portion of their time. Frequently parties were occupied for weeks together in the remote districts; so that, with the exception of one day each week--the Sabbath--the two families had of late been rarely assembled together in one spot. The hope of ever again beholding the _Nelson_ had gradually ceased to be entertained by anybody. Like an echo that resounds from rock to rock until it is lost in the distance, this hope had died away in their breasts. Willis nevertheless continued to keep the beacon on Shark's Island alight; but he regarded it more as a sepulchral lamp in commemoration of the dead, than as a signal for the living. One morning, the break of day was announced by a cannon-shot. All instantly started on their feet and gazed inquiringly in each other's faces. One thing forced itself upon all their thoughts--daybreak generally arrives without noise; it is not accustomed to announce itself with gunpowder; like real merit, it requires no flourish of trumpets to announce its advent. "Good," said Becker; "Fritz and Jack are not visible, therefore we may easily guess who fired that shot." "Particularly," added Wolston, "as this is the first of January. Last night I observed an unusual amount of going backwards and forwards, so, I suppose, nobody need be much at a loss to solve the mystery." "Aye," sighed Willis, "New Year's Day brings pleasing recollections to many, but sad ones to those who are far away from their own homes." Shortly after, the absentees arrived, each mounted on his favorite ostrich. "Mrs. Wolston," said Fritz, spreading out a fine leopard's skin, "be good enough to accept this, with the compliments of the season." "Mr. Wolston," said Jack, at the same time, "here is the outer covering of a panther, who, stifling with heat, commissioned me to present you with his overcoat." "I am very proud of your gift, Master Fritz," said Mrs. Wolston; "it is really very handsome." "It may, perhaps, be useful at all events, madam," said Fritz; "for, in the absence of universal pills and such things, it is a capital preventative of coughs and colds." "You have been over the way again, then?" inquired Willis. "Yes; but, as you see, we adopted a more efficacious mode of operations than the one you suggested." "Ah," replied Willis, drily, "you did not light a fire this time to frighten the brutes away, and go to sleep when it went out!" Sophia then presented Willis with a handsome tobacco pouch, on which the words, "From Susan," were embroidered. "Bless your dear little heart!" said the sailor, whilst a tear sparkled in the corner of his eye, "you make me almost think I am in Old England again." "What is the matter?" inquired Mrs. Wolston, as Mary came running in. "Oh, such a miracle, mamma! my parrot commenced talking this morning." "And what did it say, child?" Here Mary blushed and hesitated; Mrs. Wolston glanced at Fritz, and thought it might be as well not to inquire any further. "Perhaps somebody has changed it," suggested Jack. "Not very likely that a strange parrot could pronounce my own name." "Well, perhaps your own has been learning to spell for a long time, and has just succeeded in getting into words of two or more syllables. These creatures abound in sell-esteem; and yours, perhaps, would not speak till it could speak well." "Odd, that it should pitch upon New Year's morning to say all sorts of pretty things. They do not carry an almanack in their pockets, do they?" "Well," remarked Willis, "parrots do say and do odd things. I heard of one that once frightened away a burglar, by screaming out, 'The Campbells are coming;' so, Miss Wolston, perhaps yours does keep a log." "By counting its knuckles," suggested Jack. "Counting one's knuckles is an ingenious, but rather a clumsy substitute for the calendar," remarked Wolston. "And who invented the calendar?" inquired Willis. "I am not aware that the calendar was ever invented," replied Wolston. "Fruit commences by being a seed, the admiral springs from the cabin-boy, words and language succeed naturally the babble of the infant; so, I presume, the calendar has grown up spontaneously to its present degree of perfection." "Yes, Mr. Wolston, but some one must have laid the first plank." "The motions of the sun, moon, and stars would, in all probability, suggest to the early inhabitants of our globe a natural means of measuring time. God, in creating the heavenly bodies, seems to have reflected that man would require some index to regulate his labors and the acts of his civil life. The primary and most elementary subdivisions of time are day and night, and it demanded no great stretch of human ingenuity to divide the day into two sections, called forenoon and afternoon, or into twelve sections, called hours. Such subdivisions of time would probably suggest themselves simultaneously to all the nations of the earth. Necessity, who is the mother of all invention, doubtless called the germs of our calendar into existence." "Yes, so far as the days and hours are concerned. There are other divisions--weeks, for example." "The division of time into weeks is a matter that belongs entirely to revelation; the Jews keep the last day of every seven as a day of rest, in accordance with the law of Moses, and the Christians dedicate the first day of every seven to our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ." "Then there are months." "The month is another natural division. The return of the moon in conjunction with the sun, was observed to occur at regular intervals of twenty-nine days, twelve hours, and some minutes. This interval is called the _lunar month_, which for a long time was regarded as the radical unit in the admeasurement of time." "But the year is now the unit, is it not?" "Yes, in course of time the moon, in this respect, gave place to the sun. It was observed that the earth, in performing her revolution round the sun, always arrived at the same point of her orbit at the end of three hundred and sixty-five days, five hours, fifty-eight minutes, and forty-five seconds." "Does the earth invariably pass the same point at that interval?" "Yes, invariably; and the interval in question is termed the solar year." "After all," remarked Jack, "the perseverance of the earth is very much to be admired. It goes on eternally, always performing the same journey, never deviates from its path, and is never a minute too late." "If the earth had performed her annual voyage in a certain number of entire days, the solar year would have been an exact unit of time; but the odd fraction defied all our systems of calculation. Originally, we reckoned the year to consist of three hundred and sixty-five days." "And left the fraction to shift for itself!" "Yes, but the consequence was, that the civil year was always nearly a quarter of a day behind; so that at the end of a hundred and twenty-one years the civil year had become an entire month behind. The first month of winter found itself in autumn, the first month of spring in the middle of winter, and so on. "Rather a lubberly sort of log, that," remarked Willis. "This confusion became, with time, more and more embarrassing. Another evil was, likewise, eventually to be apprehended, for it was seen that, on the expiring of fourteen hundred and sixty revolutions of the earth round the sun, fourteen hundred and sixty-one civil years would be counted." "But where would have been the evil?" "All relations between the dates and the seasons would have been obliterated, astronomical calculations would have become inaccurate, and the calendar virtually useless." "Well, Willis, you that are so fertile in ideas, what would you have done in such a case?" inquired Jack. "I! Why I scarcely know--perhaps run out a fresh cable and commenced a new log." "Your remedy," continued Wolston, "might, perhaps, have obviated the difficulty; but Julius Cæsar thought of another that answered the purpose equally well. It was simply to add to every fourth civil year an additional day, making it to consist of three hundred and sixty-six instead of three hundred and sixty-five, This supplementary day was given to the month of February." "Why February?" "Because February, at that time, was reckoned the last month of the year. It was only in the reign of Charles IX. of France, or in the second half of the sixteenth century, that the civil year was made to begin on the 1st of January. As the end of February was five days before the 1st or kalends of March, the extra day was known by the phrase _bis sexto_ (_ante_) _calendus martii_. Hence the fourth year is termed in the calendar _bissextile_, but is more usually called by us in England _leap year_." "The remedy is certainly simple; but are your figures perfectly square? If you add a day every four years, do you not overleap the earth's fraction?" "Yes, from ten to eleven minutes." "And what becomes of these minutes? Are they allowed to run up another score?" "No, not exactly. In 1582, the civil year had got ten clear days the start of the solar year, and Pope Gregory XIII. resolved to cancel them, which he effected by calling the day after the 4th of October the 15th." "That manner of altering the rig and squaring the yards," said Willi laughing, "would make the people that lived then ten days older. If it had been ten years, the matter would have been serious. Had the Pope said to me privately, 'Willis, you are now only forty-seven, but to-morrow, my boy, you will fill your sails and steer right into fifty-seven,' I should have turned 'bout ship and cleared off. Few men care about being put upon a short allowance of life, any more than we sailors on short rations of rum." "But you forget, Willis, that, though ten years were added to your age, you would not have died a day sooner for all that." "Still, it is my idea that the Pope was not much smarter at taking a latitude than Mr. Julius Cæsar--but what are you laughing at?" "Nothing; only Julius Cæsar is not generally honored with the prefix _Mr_. It is something like the French, who insist upon talking of _Sir Newton_ and _Mr. William Shakespeare_; the latter, however, by way of amends, they sometimes style the _immortal Williams_.'" "Not so bad, though, as a Frenchman I once met, who firmly believed the Yankees lived on a soup made of bunkum and soft-sawder. But who was Julius Cæsar." "Julius Cæsar," replied Jack, sententiously, "was first of all an author, Laving published at Rome an Easy Introduction to the Latin Language; he afterwards turned general, conquered France and England, and gave _Mr._ Pompey a sound thrashing at the battle of Pharsalia." "He must have been a clever fellow to do all that; still, my idea continues the same. When he began to caulk the calendar, he ought to have finished the business in a workmanlike manner." "That, however," continued Wolston, "he left to Pope Gregory, who decreed that three leap years should be suppressed in four centuries. Thus, the years 1700 and 1800, which should have been leap years, did not reckon the extra day; so the years 2000 and 2400 will likewise be deprived of their supplementary four-and-twenty hours." "There is one difficulty about this mode of stowing away extra days; these leap years may be forgotten." "Not if you keep in mind that leap years alone admit of being divided by four." "Did the Pope manage to get entirely rid of the fraction?" "Not entirely; but the error does not exceed one day in four thousand years, and is so small that it is not likely to derange ordinary calculations; and so, Willis, you now know the origin of the calendar, and likewise how time came to be divided into weeks, months, and years." "You have only spoken of the Christian calendar," remarked Ernest. "There have been several other systems in use. Those curious people that call themselves the children of the sun and moon, possess a mode of reckoning that carries them back to a period anterior to the creation of the world. Then, the Greeks computed by Olympiads, or periods of four years. The Romans reckoned by lustri of five years, the first of which corresponds with the 117th year of the foundation of Rome." "And when does our calendar begin?" "It dates only from the birth of Christ, but may be carried back to the creation, which event, to the best of our knowledge, occurred four thousand and four years before the birth of our Savior. This period, added to the date of the present, or any future year, gives us, as nearly as we can ascertain, the interval that has elapsed since our first parents found themselves in the garden of Eden." "Our calendar," remarked Jack, "appears simple enough; it is to be regretted that there have been, and are, so many other modes of reckoning extant. What with the Greek Olympiads, the Roman lustres, the Mahometan hegira, and Chinese moonshine, there is nothing but perplexity and confusion." "It is possible, however," said Becker, "to accommodate all these systems with each other. Leaving the Chinese out of the question, we have only to bear in mind, that the Christian era begins on the first year of the 194th Olympiad, 753 years after the building of Rome, and 622 years before the Mahometan hegira. These three figures will serve us as flambeaux to all the dates of both ancient and modern history." The discourse was here interrupted by Toby, who entered the room, and was gleefully frisking and bounding round Mary. "Really," observed Mrs. Becker, "Toby does seem to know that this is New Year's Day, he looks so lively and so smart." The animal, in point of fact, wore a new collar, and seemed conscious that he was more than usually attractive that particular morning. At a sign from Mary, the intelligent brute went and wagged his tail to Fritz. Hereupon the young man, observing the collar more closely, noticed the following words embroidered upon it: _I belong now entirely to Master Fritz, who rescued my mistress from the sea_. "Ah, Miss Wolston," said Fritz, "you forget I only did my duty; you must not allow your gratitude to over-estimate the service I rendered you." "Well, I declare," cried Mrs. Wolston, laughing "here is another animal that speaks." "The age of Aesop revived," suggested Mrs. Becker. "What do you say, Master Jack?" inquired Mrs. Wolston. "Do you suppose that Toby has learned embroidery in the same way that the parrot learned grammar?" "Oh, more astonishing things than that have happened! Mr. Wolston there will tell you that he has seen a wooden figure playing at chess; why, therefore, should the most sagacious of all the brutes not learn knitting?" "I fear, in speaking so highly of the dog," replied Mrs. Wolston, "you are doing injustice to other animals. Marvellous instances of sagacity, gratitude, and affection, have been shown by other brutes beside the dog. A horse of Caligula's was elevated to the dignified office of consul." "Yes, and talking of the affection of animals," observed Ernest, "puts me in mind of an anecdote related by Aulus Gellius. It seems that a little boy, the son of a fisher man, who had to go from Baiæ to his school at Puzzoli, used to stop at the same hour each day on the brink of the Lucrine lake. Here he often threw a bit of his breakfast to a Dolphin that he called Simon, and if the creature was not waiting for him when he arrived, he had only to pronounce this name, and it instantly appeared." "Nothing very wonderful in that," said Jack; "the common gudgeon, which is the stupidest fish to be found in fresh water, would do that much." "Yes; but listen a moment. The dolphin, after having received his pittance, presented his back to the boy, after having tacked in all his spines and prickles as well as he could, and carried him right across the lake, thus saving the little fellow a long roundabout walk; and not only that, but after school hours it was waiting to carry him back again. This continued almost daily for a year or two; but at last the boy died, and the dolphin, after waiting day after day for his reappearance, pined away, and was found dead at the usual place of rendezvous. The affectionate creature was taken out of the lake, and buried beside its friend.[D] "And, on the other hand," added Jack, "if animals sometimes attach themselves to us, we attach ourselves to them. We are told that Crassus wore mourning for a dead ferret, the death of which grieved him as much as if it had been his own daughter.[E] Augustus crucified one of his slaves, who had roasted and eaten a quail, that had fought and conquered in the circus.[F] Antonia, daughter-in-law of Tiberius, fastened ear-rings to some lampreys that she was passionately fond of."[G] "That, at all events, was attachment in one sense of the word," said Mrs. Wolston. "Without reference to the dog in particular," continued Jack, "proofs of sagacity in animals are very numerous. The nautilus, when he wants to take an airing, capsizes his shell, and converts it into a gondola; then he hoists a thin membrane that serves for a sail; two of his arms are resolved into oars, and his tail performs the functions of a rudder. There are insects ingenious enough to make dwellings for themselves in the body of a leaf as thin as paper. At the approach of a storm some spiders take in a reef or two of their webs, so as to be less at the mercy of the wind. Beavers will erect walls, and construct houses more skilfully than our ablest architects. Chimpanzees have been known spontaneously to sit themselves down, and perform the operation of shaving." "Stop, Jack," cried Mrs. Wolston; "I must yield to such a deluge of argument, and admit that Toby may have acquired the art of embroidery with or without a master, only I should like to see some other specimen of his skill." "Probably you will by-and-by," replied Jack, laughing, "if you keep your eyes open." Here Sophia came into the room leading her gazelle. "Ah, just in time," said Mrs. Wolston; "here is another animal that probably has something to say." "Wrong, mamma," replied Sophia; "my gazelle is as mute as a mermaid. Very provoking, is it not, when all the other animals in the house talk?" "You had better apply to Master Jack; he may, probably, be able to hit upon a plan to make your gazelle communicative." "Will you, Master Jack?" "Certainly, Miss Sophia. The plan I would suggest is very simple. Feed him for a week or two with nouns, adjectives, and verbs." Here Sophia, addressing her gazelle, said, "Master Jack Becker is a goose." Meantime Fritz was leaning on the back of Mary's chair. "Miss Wolston," said he, "did you not tell me that you had brought Toby up, and that you were very fond of him?" "Yes, Fritz." "Then it would be unfair in me to withdraw his allegiance from you now, and, consequently, I must refuse your present" "But where would have been the merit of the gift if I did not hold him in some esteem? Besides, I thought you were fond of Toby." "So I am, Miss Wolston." "Then you will not be indebted to me for anything--I owe you much." "No such thing; you owe me nothing." "My life, then, is nothing?" "Oh, I did not mean that; I must beg your pardon." "Which I will only grant on condition you accept my gift." "Well, if you insist upon it, I will." "I can see him as before; the only difference will be that you are his master, in all other respects he will belong to us both." "May I know what your knight-errant is saying to you, Mary?" inquired Mrs. Becker. "Oh, I have been so angry with him; he was going to refuse my present." "That was very naughty of him, certainly." "He has, however, consented, like a dutiful squire, to obey my behests." "Yes, mother, Toby is henceforth to be divided between us." "Divided?" "Yes; that is, he is to be nominally mine, but virtually to belong to us both. Is it not so, Miss Wolston?" "Yes, Master Fritz." On his side, Jack had approached Miss Sophia. "So you won't give me your gazelle?" he whispered. "No, certainly not, Mr. Jack," replied Sophia; "if you had saved my life, as Fritz saved my sister's, I should then have had the right to make you a present. But you know it is not my fault." "Nor mine either," said Jack. "Perhaps not; but if I had fallen into the sea, you would have allowed the sharks to swallow me, would you not?" "I only wish we had been attacked by a hyena or a bear on our way to Waldeck." "God be thanked, that we were not!" "Well, but look here, Miss Sophia; let me paint the scene. You have fainted, as a matter of course, and fallen prostrate on the ground, insensible." "That is likely enough, if we had encountered one of the animals you mention." "Then I throw myself between you and the savage brute." "Supposing you were not half a mile off at the time." "No fear of that--he rises, on his hind legs, and glares." "Is it a hyena or a bear?" "Oh, whichever you like--he opens his jaws, and growls." "Like the wolf at Little Red Riding Hood." "I plunge my arm down his throat and choke him." "Clever, very; but are you not wounded?" "I beg your pardon, however; all my thoughts are centred in you--I think of nothing else." "I am insensible, am I not?" "Yes, more than ever--we all run towards you, and exert ourselves to bring you back to your senses." "Then I come to life again." "No, stop a bit." "But it is tiresome to be so long insensible." "My mother has luckily a bottle of salts, which she holds to your nose--I run off to the nearest brook, and return with water in the crown of my cap, with which I bathe your temples." "Oh, in that case, I should open one eye at least. Which eye is opened first after fainting?" "I really don't know." "In that case, to avoid mistakes, I should open both." "It is only then, when I find you are recovering, that I discover the brute has severely bitten my arm." "Then comes my turn to nurse you." "You express your thanks in your sweetest tones, and I forget my wounds." "Sweet tones do no harm, if they are accompanied with salves and ointment." "In short, I am obliged to carry my arm in a sling for three months after." "Is that not rather long?" "No; because your arm, in some sort, supplies, meantime, the place of mine." "Your picture has, at least, the merit of being poetic. Is it finished?" "Not till next New Year's Day, when you present me with an embroidered scarf, as the ladies of yore used to do to the knights that defended them from dragons and that sort of thing." "What a pity all this should be only a dream!" "Well, I am not particularly extravagant, at all events; others dream of fortune, honor, and glory." "Whilst you confine your aspirations to a bear, a bite, and a scarf." "You see nothing was wanted but the opportunity." "And foresight." "Foresight?" "Yes; if you had previously made arrangements with a bear, the whole scene might have been realized." "You are joking, whilst I am taking the matter _au serieux_." "That order is usually reversed; generally you are the quiz and I am the quizzee." "You will admit, at all events, that I would not have permitted the bear to eat you." Here Sophia burst into a peal of laughter, and vanished with her gazelle. FOOTNOTES: [D] Aulus Gellius, VII., 8. [E] Macrobius, _Saturn_, XL, 4. [F] Plutarch. [G] Pliny, IX., 53. CHAPTER XVI. SEPARATION--GUELPHS AND GHIBELINES--MONTAGUES AND CAPULETS--SADNESS--THE REUNION--JOCKO AND HIS EDUCATION--THE ENTERTAINMENTS OF A KING--THE MULES OF NERO AND THE ASSES OF POPPÆA--HERCULES AND ACHILLES--LIBERTY AND EQUALITY--SEMIRAMIS AND ELIZABETH--CHRISTIANITY AND THE RELIGION OF ZOROASTER--THE WILLISONIAN METHOD--MORAL DISCIPLINE VERSUS BIRCH. Winter was now drawing near, with its storms and deluges. Becker therefore felt that it was necessary to make some alterations in their domestic arrangements; and he saw that, for this season at all events, the two families must be separated--this was to create a desert within a desert; but propriety and convenience demanded the sacrifice. It was decided that Wolston and his family should be quartered at Rockhouse, whilst Becker and his family should pass the rainy season at Falcon's Nest, where, though these aerial dwellings were but indifferently adapted for winter habitations, they had passed the first year of their sojourn in the colony. The rains came and submerged the country between the two families, thus, for a time, cutting off all communication between them. The barriers that separated the Guelphs from the Ghibelines, the Montagues from the Capulets, the Burgundians from the Armagnacs, and the House of York from that of Lancaster, could not have been more impenetrable than that which now existed between the Wolstons and Beckers. Whenever a lull occurred in the storm, or a ray of sunshine shot through the murky clouds, all eyes were mechanically turned to the window, but only to turn them away again with a sigh; so completely had the waters invaded the land, that nothing short of the dove from Noah's Ark could have performed the journey between Rockhouse and Falcon's Nest. Dulness and dreariness reigned triumphant at both localities. The calm tranquility that Becker's family formerly enjoyed under similar circumstances had fled. They felt that happiness was no longer to be enjoyed within the limits of their own circle. Study and conversation lost their charms; and if they laughed now, the smile never extended beyond the tips of their lips. The young people often wished they possessed Fortunatus's cap, or Aladdin's wonderful lamp, to transport them from the one dwelling to the other; but as they could obtain no such occult mode of conveyance, there was no remedy for their miseries but patience. To the Wolstons this interval of compulsory separation was particularly irksome, as this was the first time in their lives that they had been entirely isolated for any length of time. At Falcon's Nest, Ernest was the most popular member of the domestic circle. His astronomical predilections made him the Sir Oracle of the storm, and he was constantly being asked for information relative to the progress and probable duration of the rains. Every morning he was called upon for a report as to the state of the weather; but, with all his skill, he could afford them very little consolation. But all things come to an end, as well as regards our troubles as our joys. One morning, Ernest reported that less rain had fallen during the preceding than any former night of the season; the next morning a still more favorable report was presented; and on the third morning the floods had subsided, but had left a substratum of mud that obliterated all traces of the roads. Notwithstanding this, and a smart shower that continued to fall, Fritz and Jack determined to force a passage to Rockhouse. Towards evening, the two young men returned, soaking with wet and covered with mud, but with light hearts, for they had found their companions in the enjoyment of perfect health and in the best spirits. They brought back with them a missive, couched in the following terms:-- "Mr. and Mrs. Wolston, greeting, desire the favor of Mr. and Mrs. Becker's company to dinner, together with their entire family, this day se'nnight, weather permitting." Ernest was hereupon consulted, and stated that, in so far as the rain was concerned, they should in eight days be able to undertake the journey to Rockhouse. This assurance was not, however, entirely relied upon, for between this and then many an anxious eye was turned skywards, as if in search of some more conclusive evidence. Those who possess a garden--and he who has not, were it only a box of mignionette at the window--will often have observed, in consequence of absence or forgetfulness, that their flowers have begun to droop; they hasten to sprinkle them with water, then watch anxiously for signs of their revival. So both families continued unceasingly during these eight days to note the ever-varying modifications of the clouds. At length the much wished-for day arrived; the morning broke with a blaze of sunshine, and though hidden with a dense mist, the ground was sufficiently hardened to bear their weight. Wolston awaited his guests at a bridge of planks that had been thrown across the Jackal River, where he and Willis had erected a sort of triumphal arch of mangoe leaves and palm branches. Here Becker and his family were welcomed, as if the one party had just arrived from Tobolsk, and the other from Chandernagor, after an absence of ten years. Another warm reception awaited them at Rockhouse, where an abundant repast was already spread in the gallery. Mrs. Becker had often intended to work herself a pair of gloves, but the increasing demand for stockings had hitherto prevented her. She was pleased, therefore, on sitting down to dinner, to discover a couple of pairs under her plate, with her own initials embroidered upon them. "Ah," said she, "I was almost afraid I had lost my daughters, but I have found them again." After dinner the girls showed her a quantity of cotton they had spun, which proved that, though they might have been dull, they had, at least, been industrious. "Mary span the most of it," said Sophia; "but you know, Mrs. Becker, she is the biggest." "Oh, then," said Jack, "the power of spinning depends upon the bulk of the spinner?" "Oh, Master Jack, I thought you had been ill, that you had not commenced quizzing us before." "Never mind him, Soffy," said her father; "to quote Hudibras, "There's nothing on earth hath so perfect a phiz, As not to give birth to a passable quiz." Here Willis led in the chimpanzee, who made a grimace to the assembled company. "Now, ladies and gentlemen," said Willis, "Jocko is about to show you the progress he has made in splicing and bracing." "Good!" said Becker, "you have been able to make something of him, then?" "You will see presently. Jocko, bring me a plate." Hereupon the chimpanzee seized a bottle of Rockhouse malaga, and filled a glass. "He has erred on the safe side there," said Jack, drily. "Well," added Willis, laughing, "we must let that pass. Jocko," said he, assuming a sententious tone, "I asked you for a plate." The chimpanzee looked at him, hesitated a moment, then seized the glass, and drank the contents off at a single draught. A box on the ears then sent him gibbering into a corner. "Your servant," remarked Mrs. Wolston, "has been taking lessons from Dean Swift as well as yourself, Willis." "I will serve him out for that, the swab; he does not play any of those tricks when we are alone. I must admit, however, that I am generally in the habit of helping myself." Here attention was called to the parrot, who was screaming out lustily, "I love Mary, I love Sophia." "Holloa," exclaimed Fritz, "Polly loves everybody now, does she?" "Well, you see," replied Sophia, "I grew tired of hearing him scream always that he loved my sister, so by means of a little coaxing, and a good deal of sugar, I got him to love me too." The poultry were next mustered for the inspection of their old masters. These did not consist of the ordinary domestic fowls alone; amongst them were a beautiful flamingo, some cranes, bustards, and a variety of tame tropical birds. With the fowls came the pigeons, which were perching about them in all directions. "We are now something like the court of France in the fourteenth century," said Wolston. "How so?" inquired Becker. "In the reign of Charles V., they were obliged to place a trellis at the windows of the Palace of St. Paul to prevent the poultry from invading the dining room." "Rural anyhow," observed Jack. "Of course, most other features of the palace were in unison with this primitive state of matters. The courtiers sat on stools. There was only one chair in the palace, that was the arm-chair of the king, which was covered with red leather, and ornamented with silk fringes." "So that we may console ourselves with the reflection, that we are as comfortable here as kings were at that epoch in Europe," remarked Ernest. "Yes; historians report, that when Alphonso V. of Portugal went to Paris to solicit the aid of Louis XI. against the King of Arragon, who had taken Castile from him, the French monarch received him with great honor, and endeavored to make his stay as agreeable as possible." "Reviews, I suppose, feasts, tournaments, spectacles, and so forth." "A residence was assigned him in the Rue de Prouvaires, at the house of one Laurent Herbelot, a grocer." "What! amongst dried peas and preserved plums?" "Precisely; but the house of Herbelot might then have been one of the most commodious buildings in all Paris. Alphonso was afterwards conducted to the palace, where he pleaded his cause before the king. Next day he was entertained at the archiepiscopal residence, where he witnessed the induction of a doctor in theology. The day after that a procession to the university was organized, which passed under the grocer's windows." "These were singular marvels to entertain a king withal," said Jack. "Such were the amusements peculiar to the epoch. It must be observed that the Louis in question was somewhat close-fisted, and rarely drew his purse-strings unless he was certain of a good interest for his money. But courts in those days were very simple and frugal. The sumptuary laws of Philip le Bel (1285) had fixed supper at three dishes and a lard soup. The king's own dinner was likewise limited to three dishes." "These three dishes might, however, have yielded a better repast than the fifty-two saucers of the Chinese," remarked Jack. "No one could obtain permission to give his wife four dresses a year, unless he had an income of six thousand francs." "What business had the laws to interfere with these things, I should like to know?" inquired Mrs. Wolston. "Those who possessed two thousand francs income were only allowed to wear one dress a year, the cloth for which was not permitted to exceed tenpence a yard; but ladies of rank could go as high as fifteen pence." "Philip le Bel must have been an old woman," insisted Mrs. Wolston. "No private citizen was permitted to use a carriage, and such persons were likewise interdicted the use of flambeaux." "They were permitted to break their necks at all events, that is something." "In England, the same primitive simplicity prevailed; Queen Elizabeth is said to have breakfasted on a gallon of ale, her dining-room floor was strewn every day with fresh straw or rushes, and she had only one pair of silk stockings in her entire wardrobe." "At the same time," observed Ernest, "these usages stand in singular contradiction to those that prevailed at an earlier age. The supper of Lucullus rarely cost him less than thirty thousand francs, and he could entertain five and twenty thousand guests. Six citizens of Rome possessed a great part of Africa. Domitius had an estate in France of eighty thousand acres." "Poor fellow!" "When Nero went to Baize he was accompanied by a thousand chariots and two thousand mules caparisoned with silver. Poppæa followed him with five hundred she asses to furnish milk for her bath. Cicero purchased a dining-room table that cost him a million sesterces, or about two hundred thousand francs. I can understand the progress of civilization, and I can also understand civilization remaining stationary for a given period; but I cannot understand why a citizen of ancient Rome should be able to lodge twenty-five thousand men, whilst a king of France could scarcely keep the ducks from waddling about his apartments, and a queen of England could fare no better than a ploughman." "If," replied Frank, "there were no other criterion of civilization than luxury and riches, you would have good grounds for surprise; but such is not the case. Between ancient and modern times, Christianity arose, and that has tended in some degree to keep down the ostentation of the rich, and to augment, at the same time, the comforts of the poor. In place of the heroes, Hercules and Achilles, we have had the apostles Peter and Paul; so Luther and Calvin have been substituted for Semiramis and Nero. Pride has given place to charity, and corruption to virtue." "Would that it were so, Frank," continued Ernest. "Christianity has, doubtless, effected many beneficial changes, and produced many able men; but in this last respect antiquity has not been behind. It has also its sages: Thales, Socrates, and Pythagoras, for example." "True," replied Frank, "antiquity has produced some virtuous men, but their virtue was ideal, and their creed a dream." "And the Stoics?" "The Stoics despised suffering, and Christians resign themselves to its chastisements; this constitutes one of the lines of demarcation between ancient and modern theology." "But there were many signal instances of virtue manifested in ancient times." "Yes; but for the most part, it was either exaggerated or false; unyielding pride, obstinate courage, implacable resentment of injuries. Errors promenaded in robes under the porticos. Ambition was honored in Alexander, suicide in Cato, and assassination in Brutus." "But what say you to Plato?" "The immolation of ill-formed children, and of those born without the permission of the laws, prosecution of strangers and slavery; such were the basis of his boasted republic, and the gospel of his philosophy." "Why, then, are these men held up as models for our imitation?" "Because they are distant and dead; likewise, because they were, in many respects, great and wise, considering the paganism and darkness with which they were surrounded. Life was then only sacred to the few; the many were treated as beasts of burden. The Emperor Claudian even felt bound to issue an edict prohibiting slaves from being slain _when they were old and feeble_." "Which leaves a margin for us to suppose that they might be slain when they were young and strong," observed Jack. "By the constitution of Constantine certain cases were defined, where a master might suspend his slave by the feet, have him torn by wild beasts, or tortured by slow fire." "Does slavery and its horrors not still exist, for example, in Russia and the United States of America?" "Slavery does exist, to the great disgrace of modern civilization, in the countries you mention; but, so far as I am aware, its horrors are not recognized by the laws." "There, Mr. Frank," said Wolston, "I am very sorry to be under the necessity of contradicting you. I have visited the slave states of North America, and have witnessed atrocities perhaps less brutal, but not less heart-rending, than those you mention." "But do the laws recognize them?" "Yes, tacitly; the testimony of the slaves themselves is not received as evidence." "Why do a people that call their county a refuge for the down-trodden nations of Europe suffer such abominations?" "Well, according to themselves, it is entirely a question of the _almighty dollar_. If there were no slaves, the swamps and morasses of the south could not be cultivated. It has been found that the negro will dance, and sing, and starve, but he will not work in the fields when free. Besides, they assert, that the slaves are generally well cared for, and that it is only a few detestable masters that beat them cruelly." "Then, at all events, dollars are preferred to humanity by the United States men, in spite of their vaunted emblems--liberty and equality." "Quite so. In all matters of internal policy, the dollar reigns supreme." "Admitting," continued Frank, "that the evils of slavery may exist in a section of the American Union, and amongst the barbarous hordes of Russia, these evils are trifling in comparison with others that stain the annals of antiquity. We are told that a hundred and twenty persons applied to Otho to be rewarded for killing Galba. That so many men should contend for the honor of premeditated murder, is sufficiently characteristic of the epoch. There was then no corruption, no brutal passion, that had not its temple and its high priest. In the midst of all this wickedness and vice there appeared a man, poor and humble, who accomplished what no man ever did before, and what no man will ever do again--he founded a moral and eternal civilization. Judaism and the religion of Zoroaster were overthrown. The gods of Tyre and Carthage were destroyed. The beliefs of Miltiades and of Pericles, of Scipio and Seneca, were disavowed. The thousands that flocked annually to worship the Eleusinian Ceres ceased their pilgrimage. Odin and his disciples have all perished. The very language of Osiris, which was afterwards spoken by the Ptolemies, is no longer known to his descendants. The paganisms which still exist in the East are rapidly yielding to the march of western intelligence. Christianity alone, amidst all these ring and fallen fabrics, retains its original vitality, for, like its author, it is imperishable." "It is a curious thing what we call conversation," observed Mrs. Wolston. "No sooner is one subject broached than another is introduced; and we go on from one thing to another until the original idea is lost sight of. Leaving the palace of Charles V., to go with the King of Portugal to a grocer's shop in some street or other of Paris, we cross the Alps, the Himalaya, and the Atlantic. Lucullus, Nero, Achilles, Peter, Paul, Tyre and Sidon, Semiramis and Elizabeth--queens, saints, and philosophers, are all passed in review, and why? Because the pigeons put my husband in mind of the Palace of St. Paul!" "No wonder," observed Jack; "these pigeons are carriers, and naturally suggest wandering." Once more seated round the table, Fritz, observing that the misunderstanding between Willis and the chimpanzee still continued, thrust a plate into the hand of the latter, and pointed with his finger to Willis. This time Jocko obeyed, for the language was intelligible, and he went and placed the plate before his master. "Ho, ho!" cried Willis, "so you have come to your senses at last, have you? Well, that saves you an extra lesson to-morrow, you lubber you." "He takes rather long to obey your orders, though, Willis; it is rather awkward to wait an hour for anything you ask for. What system do you pursue in educating him--the Pestalozzian or the parochial?" "We follow the system in fashion aboard ship," replied Willis. "And what does that consist of?" "A rope's end." "Oh, then, you are an advocate for the birch, are you?" said Wolston; "it is, doubtless, a very good thing when moderately and judiciously administered. That puts me in mind of the missionary and the king of the Kuruman negroes." "A tribe of Southern Africa, is it not?" "Yes, the missionary and the king were great friends. The king not only permitted him to baptize his subjects, but offered to whip them all into Christianity in a week. This summary mode of proselytism did not, however, coincide with the Englishman's ideas, and he refused the offer, although the king insisted that it was the only kind of argument that could ever reach their understandings." The day at length drew to a close, and, though no one asked the time yet all felt that the moment of departure was approaching; whether they were willing to go was doubtful, but at they were loth to depart was certain. "It is time to return now," said Becker, rising. "Already!" "There are some clouds in the distance that bode no good." "Nothing more than a little rain at worst," said Jack. "And your mother?" inquired Decker. "Oh! we can make a palanquin for her." "Your plan, Jack, is not particularly bright; it puts me in mind of some genius or other that took shelter in the water to keep out of the wet." "Very odd," said Jack, "we are always wishing for rain, and when it comes, we do all we can to keep out of its way." "That is, because we are neither green pease nor gooseberries," said Ernest, drily. "True, brother; and as the rain is your affair, perhaps you will be good enough to delay it for an hour or so." "I am sorry on my own account, as well as yours, that I have not yet discovered the art of controlling the skies." Here Fritz whispered a few words in his mother's ear, that called up one of those ineffable smiles that the maternal heart alone can produce. "Well," said Mrs. Becker, "if you think so, deliver the message yourself." "Mrs. Wolston," said Fritz, "I am charged to invite you and your family to Falcon's Nest this day week." "The invitation is accepted, unless my daughters have any objections to urge." "How can you fancy such a thing, mamma?" said both girls. "The fact is, that my daughters have got such a dread of cold water, that they dread to wet the soles of their shoes, unless one or other of you gentlemen is within hail." "Mamma does so love to tease us," said Mary; "we are afraid of nothing but putting you to inconvenience." "Well, in that case, we shall be at Falcon's Nest on the appointed day, unless the roads are positively submerged." "In that case," said Jack, "a line of canoes will be placed upon the highway, between the two localities." As the prospect of a prize incites the young scholar to increased exertion--as the prospect of worldly honors urges the ambitious man on in his career--as the oasis cheers the weary traveller on his journey through the desert, and makes him forget hunger and thirst--as the dreams of comfort and home warm the blood of a wayfarer amongst snow and ice--as hope smooths the ruggedness of poverty and softens the calamities of adversity, so the prospect of meeting again mitigates the regrets of parting. CHAPTER XVII. WHERE THERE'S A WILL THERE'S A WAY--MUCIUS SCÆVOLA--WHAT'S TO BE DONE?--BRUTUS TORQUATUS AND PETER THE GREAT--AUSTRALIA, BOTANY BAY, AND THE FLYING DUTCHMAN--NEW GUINEA AND THE BUCCANEER--VANCOUVER'S ISLAND--WHITE SKINS--DANGER OF LANDING ON A WAVE--HANGED OR DROWNED--ROUTE TO HAPPINESS--OMENS. The old saw, _Where there's a will there's a way_, means--if it means anything--that a great deal may be effected by energy. A man without energy is a helpless character, and invariably lags behind his fellow mortals in the stream of life; like a cork in an eddy, he is rebuffed here and jostled there, and goes on travelling in a circle to the end of the chapter. Not so the man of action; no jostling thwarts him, no rebuffs retard him; he breaks through all sorts of obstacles, and floats along with the current. Such a man was Becker. Though surrounded with dangers, and harassed by the elements, almost alone he had converted a wilderness into fertile fields; he pursued the track that his judgment suggested, and followed it up with invincible resolution; he manfully resisted the severest trials, and cheerfully bore the heaviest burdens; his reliance on Truth or Virtue and on God were unfaltering; but had he provided for every emergency? Is mortal power capable of overcoming every difficulty? We shall see. A day or two after the entertainment at Rockhouse, Becker whispered to the Pilot-- "Willis, take a rifle, and come along with me; I have something to say to you." They walked a quarter of an hour or so without uttering a word, when Willis broke the silence. "You seem sad, Mr. Becker." "Yes, Willis, I am almost distracted." "Still, you seem well enough; you are as hale and hearty as if you had just been keel-hauled and got a new rig." "It is not my body that is suffering, Willis; it is my mind." "Whatever is the matter?" "Willis, _my wife is dying_." And so it was. For a long period Becker's wife had been a prey to racking pains, which, so to speak, she hid from herself, the better to conceal them from others, just as if suffering had been a crime. After having resisted for fourteen years the afflictions of exile, long and perilous expeditions, nights passed under tents, humid winters and fierce burning summers, her health had, at length, succumbed, not all at once, like fabrics sapped by gunpowder, but little by little, like those that are demolished piecemeal with the pickaxe of the workman. Day by day she grew more and more feeble, without those who were constantly by her side observing the insidious workings of disease. Like Mucius Scævola, who held his hands in a burning brazier without uttering a word, she so effectually hid her griefs within the recesses of her own bosom, that no one even suspected her illness. "But, Mr. Becker," said Willis, "I saw your wife this morning, and she seemed as well as usual." "Yes, _seemed_, Willis, that is true enough; not to give us pain, she has concealed her illness from us all. It is only within the last twelve hours that I accidentally discovered that she has been long laboring under some fearful malady." "Do you know the nature of the disease?" "No, that I have no means of ascertaining; it may be a distinct form of disease, or it may be a complication of disorders, which I know not." "It would not signify about the name if we only knew a remedy." "True; but I dread some malady of a cancerous type, which could not be eradicated without surgical skill." "I wish I had been born a doctor instead of a pilot," sighed Willis. "I cannot see her perish before my eyes." "Certainly not, Mr. Becker; it would never do to allow a ship to sink if she can be saved." "Well, what is to be done?" "There lies the difficulty; had it been a question of anything that floats on the water, I might have suggested a remedy; but, in this case, I am fairly run aground." "I know too well what must be done, Willis. In cases of ordinary maladies, with care and due precaution, proper nourishment and time, Nature will generally effect a cure." "Nature has no diploma, but she accomplishes more cures than those that have." "Unfortunately this is not a malady that can be cured by such means; and, unless its progress be checked in time, it may ultimately assume a form that will render a cure impossible." "Is death, then, inevitable?" "A patient may retain a languishing life under such circumstances for some time; but if the disease be cancer, a cure is hopeless without instruments and scientific skill." "I thought I was the only wretched being in the colony," said Willis, sighing, "but I find I am not alone." "There are no hopes of the _Nelson_, are there?" inquired Becker. "None now; for some time Mr. Wolston and yourself almost persuaded me that she had escaped; but had she reached the Cape, we should have heard of her ere now." "The probabilities of another vessel touching here are small, are they not?" "We are not in the direct track to anywhere; therefore, unless a ship has been driven out of her course by a gale, there is not a chance." "Unfortunate that I am!" exclaimed Becker, covering his face with his hands. "Brutus, Manlius Torquatus, and Peter the Great, condemned their sons to death, but they were guilty; still the sacrifice must be made." Here Willis stared aghast, and began to fear Becker's intellect had been affected by his troubles. "I do not exactly understand you, Mr. Becker." "Two of my sons have gone on before us; they were to embark in the canoe for Shark's Island, and wait for us there. I must have courage, and you also, Willis." This exordium did not tend to alter the Pilot's impression. They walked on for some time in silence towards the coast. "Do you know the latitude and longitude of this coast, Willis?" "Good!" thought the Pilot, "he has changed the subject." "Yes; we are in the South Sea, and no great distance from the line." "What continent is nearest us?" "We cannot be very far off the south coast of New Holland, or, as it is named in some charts, Australia. You know that the _Nelson_ hailed from Botany Bay, or Sydney, as the convict colony which the English Government has just founded there is called." "How far do you suppose we are from Sydney?" "Well, I should say, with a fair wind and a smart craft, Sydney is not above two months' sail, if so much." "Is the coast inhabited?" "Yes." "What character do the inhabitants bear?" "According to the Dutch sailors, who have been on the coast, they are the most plundering and lubberly set of rascals to be met with anywhere." "They are not acquainted with the use of fire-arms, are they?" "No not of fire-arms; but they have a machine of their own that they call a waddy, or something of that sort, which they throw like a harpoon; but the thing takes a twist in the air, and strikes behind them." "Is the coast accessible?" "No; it is fringed with reefs, and, in some places, the surf runs for miles out to sea." "The navigation along shore, then, is extremely perilous?" "Whatever can he be driving at?" thought Willis. "Yes; such a lee shore in a gale would terrify the Flying Dutchman himself." Here Becker shook his head dolefully, and they walked on a little further in silence. "What islands do you suppose are nearest us, Willis?" "I should say we are in or near the group marked in the chart Papuasia; beyond them is the territory of New Guinea, and a point to nor'ard are a whole nest of islands discovered by the celebrated buccaneer, Dampière." "And their inhabitants?" "Oh, some of them are pretty fair; but, taking them in the lump, they are a bad lot." "The islands to the west are those discovered by Cook, Vancouver, and Bougainville, are they not?" "They are marked Polynesia in the charts." "Do you know of any European settlements on these islands?" "Well, there is a fort of the Hudson's Bay Company on Vancouver's Island, but that is a long way north; and, I believe, a factory has recently been anchored in New Zealand, but that is a long way south." "And what are the principal islands between?" "There is New Caledonia, the New Hebrides, the Friendly Islands, the Societies' Islands, the Marquesas, Tahite, and the Pelew Islands; but each navigator gives them a new name, so that it is hard to say which is which; all you can do is to say that there is an island in latitude so and so and longitude so and so, but the name is almost out of the question." "And the natives?" "Some of them are remarkably tame, and trade freely with strangers; but others have strongly marked cannibal propensities, and dote upon a white-skin feast when they can get one." Here Becker shuddered, and uttered an exclamation of horror. "That would be a terrible fate, Willis." "Whatever can he mean?" thought the Pilot. "Willis, to reach Europe from here, what course do you think would be best?" "Now I think I shall fix him at last," said the Pilot, levelling his rifle at an imaginary bird. "You will only waste gunpowder," said Becker; "I see nothing." "You asked me just now what course I should steer for Europe, did you not?" "Yes." "Well, the most direct course would be to make the Straits of Macassar, and then steer for Java." "And when there?" "You would then be fifteen or sixteen hundred leagues from the Cape." "So much?" "Yes, that is about the distance in a straight line across the Indian Ocean. When at the Cape, another fifteen days' sail will bring you to the line; five or six weeks after that St. Helena will heave in sight; then you fall in with the Island of Ascension; leaving which a week or two will bring you to the Straits of Gibraltar, where you get the first glimpse of Europe. But if you are bound for England, your daughter may commence working a pair of slippers for you; they will be ready by the time you get there." They had now arrived at the point of the Jackal River where the pinnace was moored. "What do you think of this boat?" inquired Becker. "The pinnace is well enough for fair weather; but it is not the sort of craft I should like to command in a storm at sea." "So that to venture to sea in it would be to incur imminent danger?" "There is no denying that, Mr. Becker; if she shipped a moderately heavy sea, down she must go to the bottom, like a four and twenty pound shot; and if she should spring a leak, you cannot land to put her to rights; the waves are by no means solid." "Just as I thought!" exclaimed Becker; "I was right in judging that it would be a sacrifice. It is almost certain death; but they must go." "Where?" inquired Willis. "To Europe if need be, if God in his mercy spares the pinnace." "What for?" "I have the means of purchasing surgical skill, and I must use all the sacrifices at my command to obtain it." "Avast heaving, Mr. Becker," cried Willis; "now I understand; the thing is as clear as the tackle of the best bower, and when a resolution is once formed, nothing like paying it out at the word of command. When shall we start?" "I am not talking of either you or myself, Willis." "Of whom then, may I ask?" "Fritz and Jack. Fritz knows something of navigation; and if they succeed, they will have saved their mother; if they perish, they will have died to save her." "Fritz, as you say, does know something of navigation, particularly as regards coasting; but here you have a pilot, accustomed to salt water, quite handy, why not engage him also?" "Willis, you have yourself said that the undertaking is perilous in the extreme, and your life is not bound up like theirs in that of their mother." "True; but do you not see that I am sick of dry land, and that I am getting rusty for the want of a little sea air?" "I felt ashamed to ask you to share in so desperate an enterprise, otherwise I would have proposed it to you, Willis." "But you might have seen that I was growing thin, absolutely pining away, and drying up on land. There are ducks that can live without water, but I am not one of them." "Am I, then, to understand that you offer to risk your life in this forlorn hope?" "Certainly, Mr. Becker; a man condemned to be hanged, running the risk of being drowned is no great sacrifice." "Willis, I accept your offer, to share in the dangers of this enterprise, most gratefully. I thank you in the name of my sons and of their mother, and trust that God may enable me to recompense you for your devotion to them and to myself." [Illustration] "You forget," added Willis, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, that he ascribed to a grain of dust, "you forget that I was on the point of venturing out to sea in the canoe, had you yourself and Mr. Wolston not prevented me. There is work to be done, I admit; and it is not impossible to cross even the Indian Ocean in the pinnace. But we may find a doctor, perhaps, at some of the settlements--for instance, at Manilla, in the Philippines." "That is not to be hoped for, Willis; there is, probably, only one skilful medical man in each colony, and he will be prevented leaving by Government engagements." "True; then we had better hoist sail for Europe direct, and trust to falling in with a ship now and then." "Alas!" sighed Becker, "in a path so wide as the ocean, it would be unwise to trust to such chances; you will have to rely, I fear, entirely upon the resources of the pinnace alone." "Well, I dare say, though we may have to put up with half rations, we shall not starve on the voyage, at all events." They had unmoored the pinnace, and were on their way to Shark's Island. "You are about to announce to your sons their departure?" said Willis, inquiringly. "Yes; but my heart almost fails me." "The iron must be struck while it is hot. Will you commission me to whisper a few words in their ear?" "Thanks, Willis; but what right have I to expect courage from them, if I exhibit weakness myself? No, my friend, I may shed tears in your presence, but not before them." "A man ought never to allow his feelings to get the better of his courage," said Willis, in whose eyes, however, the dust was evidently playing sad havoc. "These boys have almost never been absent from me. I have watched them grow up from infancy to adolescence, and from adolescence to manhood; they have always been dutiful and obedient, and with gratitude I have blessed them every night of their lives. But stern are the decrees of Fate; I must command them to depart from me--perhaps for ever!" "There are evils that lead to good," said Willis, "even though these evils be the Straits of Magellan or the storms of the Indian Ocean." Here the pinnace reached the offing of Shark's Island, where Fritz and Jack, leaning on the battery, watched the progress of the boat. "Do you observe how downcast my father looks?" said Fritz. "Willis does not look much gayer," remarked Jack. "Do you believe in omens, Jack?" "Now and then." "Well, mark me, there is a screw loose somewhere, or I am no oracle." CHAPTER XVIII. BACON AND BISCUIT--LET SLEEPING DOGS LIE--THE PATERNAL BENEDICTION--AN APPARITION--A MOTHER NOT EASILY DECEIVED--THE ADIEU--THE EMPEROR CONSTANTINE--IN HOC SIGNO VINCES--THE SAILOR'S POSTSCRIPT--CÆSAR AND HIS FORTUNES--RECOLLECTIONS--MRS. BECKER PLUCKS STOCKINGS AND KNITS ORTOLANS--HOW DELIGHTFUL IT IS TO BE SCOLDED--THE BODIES VANISH, BUT THE SOULS REMAIN. On their return from Shark's Island, Fritz and Jack were deeply affected, not by the dread of the perils they were destined to encounter--these never gave them a moment's uneasiness--but by the knowledge that a merciless vulture was preying upon the vitals of their beloved mother. Willis on the contrary, appeared as lively as if he had just received notice of promotion; but whether the idea of again dwelling on the open sea had really elevated his spirits, or whether this gaiety was only assumed to encourage Becker and his sons, was best known to himself. It was arranged amongst them that no one, under any circumstances, should be made acquainted with the design they had in contemplation. By this means all opposition would be vanquished, and the regrets of separation would, in some degree, be avoided. Besides, if the project were divulged, might not Frank and Ernest insist upon their right to share its dangers? This eventuality alone was sufficient to impress upon them all the urgency of secrecy. The really strong man knows his weakness, and therefore dislikes to run the risk of exposing it, so Becker dreaded the tears and entreaties that this desperate undertaking would inevitably exercise, were it generally known beforehand to the rest of the family; whereas, if once the pinnace were fairly at sea, it could not be recalled, and time would do the rest. Since, then, all the preparations had to be made in such a way as not to excite suspicion that any thing extraordinary was on foot, the progress was necessarily slow. Willis, under pretext of amusing himself, refitted the pinnace, and strengthened it so far as he could without impairing its sailing efficiency. He called to mind that, when Captain Cook reached Batavia, after his first voyage round the world, he observed with astonishment that a large portion of the sides of his famous ship the _Endeavor_ was, under the water line, no thicker than the sole of a shoe. As soon as the weather had settled, and the tropical heats set in, the Wolstons resumed their abode at Falcon's Nest; whilst, under some plausible pretext or other, Willis, Fritz, and Jack took up their quarters at Rockhouse. This arrangement gave the destined navigators the means of carrying on their operations unobserved, especially as regards salting provisions and baking for the voyage. Along with the stores, a portion of the valuables, that still remained in the magazines of Rockhouse, were placed on board the pinnace; for, though gold and precious stones were not of much value in New Switzerland, Becker had not forgotten that such was not the case in other portions of the world; he reflected that his sons must be furnished with the means of returning to the colony with comfort. There was also a man of science and education to be bought, and that, he knew, could not be done without as the French proverb has it, having some hay in one's boots. Storms are usually heralded by some premonitory symptoms: the atmosphere becomes oppressive, the clouds increase in density, the sky gradually becomes obscure and large drops of rain begin to fall, then follows the deluge, and the elements commence their strife. It is much the same with impending misfortunes: gloom gathers on the countenance, our movements become constrained, our thoughts wander, and a tear lingers in the corner of the eye. Fritz and Jack endeavored in vain to appear unconcerned, but, in spite of their efforts, it was painfully evident that their minds were burdened by some heavy weight. They were more tender and more affectionate, particularly towards their mother. Towards evening, when they quitted the family circle for Rockhouse, their adieus were so earnest, so warm, and so often repeated, that it almost appeared as if they were laying in a stock of them for their voyage, to store up and preserve with the bacon and biscuits. Even the animals came in for an extra share of caresses, and, if they were capable of reflection, it must have puzzled them sorely to account for all the endearments that were lavished upon them by the two brothers. Becker himself was no less affected than his sons; sometimes, when the latter were busily occupied with some preparation for the voyage, he would fix his eyes sadly upon them, just as if every trait of these cherished features had not already been deeply graven on his soul. During the preceding rainy season, the two young men felt the days long and tedious, and wished in their inmost hearts that they would pass away more swiftly; now, the hours seemed to fly with unaccountable rapidity, and they would gladly have lengthened them if they had had the power. But no one can arrest Le temps, cette image mobile De l'immobile éternité. And time is right in holding on the even tenor of its way; for if it once yielded to the desires of mortals, there would be no end of confusion and perplexity. It takes unto itself wings and flies away, say the fortunate; it lags at a snail's pace, say the unfortunate. The idler knows not how to pass it away. The man of action does not observe its progress. Those who are looking forward to some favorite amusement exclaim, "Would that it were to-morrow!" but how many there are that might well ejaculate, from the bottom of their souls, "Would that to-morrow may never arrive!" How, then, could such wishes be met in a way to satisfy all? A day at length arrived when everything was ready for departure, and when nothing was wanted to weigh anchor but courage on the part of the voyagers. The pinnace was laden to the gunwale, the compass was in its place, the casks were filled with fresh water from the Jackal River, and Willis reported that both wind and sea were propitious for a start. The morning of that day was lovely in the extreme. Willis, Fritz, and Jack were early at Falcon's Nest; the two families breakfasted together under the trees in the open air. After breakfast an adjournment to the umbrageous shade of the bananas was proposed and agreed to. "Mother," said Fritz, taking Mrs. Becker's arm, "I want you all to myself." "I object to that, if you please," cried Jack, taking her other arm. "Why, you boys seem extravagantly fond of your mother to-day," said Mrs. Becker, gaily. "Well, you see, mother, we have the right to have an idea now and then--Willis has one every week." "So long as your ideas are about myself, I have no reason to object to them," said Mrs. Becker, smiling. "We have always been dutiful sons, have we not, mother?" inquired Fritz. "Yes, always." "You are well pleased with us then?" "Yes, surely." "We have never caused you any uneasiness, have we?" inquired Jack. "That is to say, inadvertently," added Fritz; "designedly is out of the question." "No, not even inadvertently," replied their mother. "Were you very sorry when Frank and Ernest were going to leave us?" "Yes, my children, the tears still burn my cheek." "Nevertheless, you knew that it was for the common welfare, and you felt resigned to the separation." "But why do you ask such a question now?" "Well, _à propos de rien_, mother," replied Jack, "simply because we love you, and, like misers, we treasure your love." Towards the afternoon both families were again assembled under the trees at Falcon's Nest This time it was dinner that brought them together; the repast consisted of cold meats of various kinds, but the chief dish was a wonderful salad, the rich, fresh odor of which perfumed the air. Wolston, Frank, and Ernest kept up a lively conversation, yet, though all seemed happy and pleased, there were bursting hearts at the table that day." "I am going to take a turn in the pinnace to-morrow," said Willis, quietly; "who will go with me?" "I will!" cried all the four brothers. "I shall require you, Frank and Ernest, to take a look at the rice plantation to-morrow," said Becker, "so I wish you to put off the excursion till another time." "We are at your orders, father," replied the two young men. "Where are you going, Willis?" inquired Mrs. Wolston. "Well, I am anxious to discover whether we inhabit an island or a continent, and may, consequently, extend the survey beyond the points already known; so you must not be disappointed should we not return the same night." "But what is the good of such an expedition?" inquired Mrs. Becker. "The country may be inhabited, or there may be inhabited islands in the vicinity," replied Willis. "If there be natives anywhere near," said Mrs. Becker, "they have left us at peace hitherto, and, in my opinion, since the dog sleeps, it will be prudent for us to let it lie." "It is not a question of creating any inconvenience," suggested Becker, "but only to ascertain more accurately our geographical position: such a knowledge can do us no possible harm, but, some day, it may be of immense service to us." "What if you should fall in with a ship?" inquired Mrs. Wolston. "In that case we shall give your compliments to the commander," replied Jack. "You may do that if you like, but try and bring it back with you if you can." "Do you wish to leave us?" "I do not mean that," hastily added Mrs. Wolston, "but I am beginning to get anxious about my son, poor fellow. If the _Nelson_ has not arrived at the Cape, then he will suppose we are all drowned, and I should like to fall in with some means of assuring him of our safety." "Oh yes," cried the two girls, "do try and fall in with a ship; our poor brother will be so wretched." "You might say our brother as well," added the two young men. Here the two mothers interchanged a glance of intelligence, which might mean very little, but which likewise might signify a great deal. A moment of intense anxiety had now arrived for Becker and his two sons; they could scarcely refrain from shedding tears, but they felt that the slightest imprudence of that nature would divulge everything. "Come now, my lads, look alive," cried Willis, in a voice which he meant to be gruff; "if you intend to take a few hours' repose before we start in the morning, it is time to be off." Fritz and Jack, had it been to save their lives, could not now have helped throwing more than usual energy into their parting embraces that particular afternoon; but they passed through the ordeal with tolerable firmness, and then with heavy hearts turned towards the door. "I think I will walk with you as far as Rockhouse," said Becker. All four then departed; and when the party were about fifty yards from Falcon's Nest, Fritz and Jack turned round and waved a final adieu to those loved beings whom probably, they might never see again. "It is well," said Becker. "I am satisfied with your conduct throughout this trying interval." It was now an hour when there is something indescribably sombre about the country; day was declining, the outlines of the larger objects in the landscape were becoming less distinct, and the trees were assuming any sort of fantastical shape that the mind chose to assign to them. Here and there a bird rustled in the foliage, but otherwise the silence was only broken by footsteps of the four men. In ordinary life children quit the parental home by easy and almost imperceptible gradations. First, there is the school, then college; next, perhaps, the requirements of the profession they have adopted. Thus they readily abandon the domestic hearth; friends, intercourse, and society divide their affection, and the separation from home rarely, if ever, costs them a pang. Not so with Becker's two sons; their world was New Switzerland; therefore, like the rays of the sun absorbed by the mirror of Archimedes, all their affections were concentrated on one point. On the former occasion when the family ties were on the eve of being rent asunder, the case was very different. It is true, Frank and Ernest were about to leave for an indefinite period of time; but then, every comfort that the most fastidious voyager could desire was awaiting them on board the _Nelson_; for a well-appointed ship is like a well-appointed inn on shore, all your wants are ministered to with the utmost celerity. Besides, Captain Littlestone had taken the young men under his special protection, and had promised to see them properly introduced and cared for in Europe. How dissimilar was the position of Fritz and his brother; they were about to tumble into the old world should they be so fortunate as to reach it, much as if they had dropped from the skies, without a guide and without a friend. They were about to entrust themselves to the ocean, separated from its treacherous floods by a few wretched planks; to be exposed for months, almost unsheltered, to wind, rain, and the mercy of pitiless storms. "If God in His mercy preserves you, my sons," said Becker, breaking at last the silence, "you will find yourselves launched in an ocean still more turbulent than that you have escaped--an ocean where falsehood and cunning assume the names of policy and tact; where results always justify the means, whatever these may be; where everything is sacrificed to personal interest and ambition; where fortune is honored as a virtue that dispenses with all others, and where profligacies of the most odious kinds are decorated with gay and seductive colors. It is difficult for me to foresee the various circumstances amidst which you may be placed; but there are certain rules of conduct that provide for nearly every emergency. I have no need to urge loyalty or courage--these qualities are inseparable from your hearts. Strive only for what is just and honest. Submit to be cheated rather than be cheats yourselves; ill-gotten gains never made any one rich. Put your trust in Providence. Seek aid from on high, when you find yourselves surrounded with difficulties. Never forget that there is no corner on the earth's surface, however obscure, that the eyes of the Lord are not there to behold your actions. Act promptly and with energy. Bear in mind that every moment lost will be to your mother an age of suffering, and that her life is suspended on the fragile thread of your return." The party had now reached the banks of the Jackal River, where the pinnace was moored. Fritz and Jack were shedding tears unrestrainedly, and had dropped on their knees at their father's feet. "I call," said Becker, in a trembling voice, "the benediction of Heaven upon your heads, my sons." "Oh, but they must not go!" cried Mrs. Becker, rushing out from behind some tall brushwood that hid her from their view; "they shall not go!" Fritz and Jack were instantly inclosed within their mother's arms. "Ah!" cried she, pushing aside the hair from their brows, the better to observe their features, "you thought to deceive your mother, did you?" "Pardon!" exclaimed both the young men. Here Becker thought it necessary to interfere; and, summoning all the courage he could muster to the task, said-- "Why should they not go? Is this the first expedition they have undertaken?" "No, it is not the first expedition they have undertaken, but it is the first time their eyes and their looks betokened an eternal adieu. It is the first time that I felt they were forsaking me for ever, and it is the first time you ever addressed them with the words you just now uttered." Becker saw that it was useless to attempt to carry deceit any further; he therefore withdrew his eyes from the piercing glance of his wife. Willis, caught in the act, as it were, was completely thrown off his guard, and had not a word to say for himself. Fritz and Jack had again fallen on their knees, this time at the feet of their mother. "Ah! I begin to understand," she screamed, as she glanced around on the scared group that surrounded her, like a wounded lioness whose cubs were being carried off; "now the bandage begins to drop from my eyes. A thousand inexplicable things dart into my mind. You are sending the boys on an impracticable voyage to secure the safety of their mother; but you did not think that in order to prolong my existence for a few years, you would kill me instantly with grief! What right have you to impose a remedy upon me that is a thousand times worse than the malady? Have I ever complained? May my sufferings not be agreeable to me? May I not like them? Is pain and suffering not our lot from the cradle to the tomb? But I am not ill, I was never better in my life than I am at this moment." Here she was seized with a paroxysm of nervous tremors that convulsed her frame most fearfully, and completely belied her words. Becker rushed forward and held her firmly in his arms. "God give me strength!" he murmured. "Go, my children, where your duty calls you; go, my friend, do not prolong this terrible scene an instant longer." Not another word was spoken, the pinnace was unmoored; Fritz, Jack, and Willis embarked. When at some little distance from the shore, there was just light enough for Fritz to notice that his father was directing the feeble steps of his mother in the direction of Falcon's Nest. In a few moments more all the objects on shore were one confused mass of unfathomable shadow. The pinnace dropped anchor at Shark's Island, where some few final preparations for the voyage had to be made. Fritz here took a pen and wrote: "We part. We are gone. When you read this letter, the sea, for some distance, will extend between us. We shall live and move elsewhere, but our hearts still with you. We wish that Ernest and Frank would erect a flagstaff on the spot where we last parted with our parents. It may be to us what the celestial standard bearing the scroll, _in hoc signo vinces_ was to the Emperor Constantine. The place is already sacred, and may be hallowed by your prayers for us. Our confidence in the divine mercy is boundless. Do not despair of seeing us again. We have no misgivings, not one of us but anticipates confidently the period when we shall return and bring with us health, happiness, and prosperity to you all. "Let me add a word," said Jack. "The sea is calm, our hearts are firm, our enterprise is under the protection of Heaven--there never was an undertaking commenced under more favorable auspices. Farewell then, once more, farewell. All our aspirations are for you. "FRITZ. "JACK. "P.S.--Willis was going to write a line or two when, lo and behold! a big tear rolled upon the paper. 'Ha!' said he, 'that is enough, I will not write a word, they will understand that, I think,' and he threw down the pen." "How is the letter to be sent on shore?" inquired Fritz. "There is a cage of pigeons on board the pinnace," replied Jack, "but I do not want them to know that, for, if they should expect to hear from us, and some accident happen to the pigeons, they might be dreadfully disappointed." "We can return on shore," observed Willis, "and place it on the spot, where we embarked; they are sure to be there to-morrow." This suggestion was incontinently adopted. The letter was attached to a small cross, and fixed in the ground. The voyagers had all re-embarked in the pinnace, which was destined to bear even more than Cæsar and his fortunes. Willis had already loosened the warp, when, a thought crossed the mind of Fritz. "I must revisit Falcon's Nest once more," said he. "What!" cried Willis, "you are not going to get up such another scene as we witnessed an hour or two ago?" "No, Willis, I mean to go by stealth like the Indian trapper, so as to be seen by no mortal eye. I wish to take one more look at the old familiar trees, and endeavor to ascertain whether my mother has reached home in safety." "But the dogs?" objected Willis. "The dogs know me too well to give the slightest alarm at my approach. I shall not be long gone; but really I must go, the desire is too powerful within me to be resisted." "I will go with you," said Jack. Here Willis shook his head and reflected an instant. "You are not angry with us, Willis, are you?" "Not at all," he replied, "and I think the best thing I can do, under the circumstances, is to go too." "Very well, make fast that warp again, and come along." The party then disappeared amongst the brushwood. "Some time ago," remarked Fritz, "we followed this track about the same hour; there was danger to be apprehended, but the enterprise was bloodless, though successful." "You mean the chimpanzee affair," said Willis. "Yes; this time we have only an emotion to conquer, but I am afraid it is too strong for us." "These are the trees," said Jack, as they debouched upon the road, "that I stuck my proclamations upon. We had very little to think of in those days." As the party drew near Falcon's Nest, the dogs approached and welcomed them with the usual canine demonstrations of joy. "I have half a mind to carry off Toby," said Fritz; "but I fear Mary would miss him." Externally all appeared tranquil at Falcon's Nest; this satisfied the young men that their mother had succeeded in reaching home, at least, in safety; a light streaming through the window of Becker's dwelling, however, showed that the family had not yet retired for the night. "If they only knew we were so near them!" remarked Jack. The entire party then sat down upon a rustic bench, shrouded with flowering orchis and Spanish jasmine. "How often, on returning from the fields or the chase, we have seen our mother at work on this very seat," observed Fritz. "Aye," added Jack; "once I observed she had fallen asleep whilst knitting stockings. I advanced on tip-toe, removed gently her knitting apparatus, stockings, and all, and placed on her lap some ortolans that I had caught and strangled; but I first plucked one of them, and scattered the feathers all about, and then retreated into a thicket to watch the _dénouement_ of my scheme. She awoke, put down her hand to take up a stocking, and laid hold of a bird. She stared, rubbed her eyes, stared again, looked about, and could find nothing but the ortolan feathers. I then ran forward and embraced her, looking as if I had just come from unearthing turnips. 'Well, I declare,' she said with a bewildered air, 'I could have sworn that I was knitting just now, and here I find myself plucking ortolans; and what is more, I have not the slightest idea where, in all the world, the birds have come from!' Of course, I looked as innocent as possible; so that the more she stared and reflected, the less she could make the matter out. At last, she went on plucking the birds, and when this was done she stuck them on the spit. When the ortolans were roasted and ready to be served up, I went into the kitchen, carried them off, and put my mother's knitting apparatus on the spit. Imagine her surprise when she beheld her worsted and stockings at the fire, knowing, at the same time, that four hungry stomachs were waiting for their dinners! At last, fearing that she was going to ascribe the metamorphosis to some hallucination of her own, I went up to her, threw my arms round her neck, told her the whole story, and we both of us enjoyed a hearty laugh over it." "Aye, Jack, those were laughing times," said Fritz, sadly. "Not only that, but our mother was always so even--tempered; she was never ruffled in the slightest degree by my nonsense; though she often had the right to be very angry, yet she never once took offence. On another occasion, Mary and Sophia Wolston were working here at those mysterious embroideries which they always hid when we came near." "Toby's collar, I suppose," remarked Fritz. "My tobacco pouch," suggested Willis. "I approached," continued Jack, "with the muffled softness of a cat, and was just on the point of discovering their secret, when my monkey, Knips, who was cracking nuts at their feet, made a spring, and drew a bobbin of silk after it; this caused them to look round, and great was my astonishment to find myself caught at the very moment I expected to surprise them. They commenced scolding me at an immense rate, but then it was so delightful to be scolded!" "Aye," murmured Fritz, "that is all over now." Like a file of sheep, one recollection dragged another after it, so that the whole of the past recurred to their memories. Some faint streaks of light now warned them that day was about to break; the cocks began to crow one after the other, and to fill the air with their shrill voices. "Now," said Willis, "it is high time to be off." Jack hastily gathered two bouquets of flowers, which he suspended to the lintel of each dwelling. "These," said he, "will show them that we have paid them another visit." They then bent down all three on their knees, uttered a short prayer, and afterwards disappeared amidst the shadows of the chestnut trees. "Listen!" said Willis, seeing that his companions were about to make a halt, "if you stop again, or speak of returning any more, I will cease to regard you as men." Half an hour afterwards, on the morning of the 8th March, 1812, the pinnace bore out to sea, and when day broke, the crew could not descry a single trace of New Switzerland on any point of the horizon. CHAPTER XIX. EIGHTEEN HUNDRED AND TWELVE--THE MARY--COUNT UGOLINO--THE SOURCES OF RIVERS--THE ALPS DEMOLISHED--NO MORE PYRENEES--THE FIRST SHIP--ADMIRAL NOAH--FLEETS OF THE ISRAELITES--THE COMPASS--PRINTING--GUNPOWDER--ACTIUM AND SALAMIS--DIDO AND AENEAS--STEAM--DON GARAY AND ROGER BACON--MELCHTHAL, FURST, AND WILLIAM TELL--GOING A-PLEASURING--UPSET VERSUS BLOWN UP--A DEAD CALM--THE LOG--WILLIS'S ARCHIPELAGO--THE ISLAND OF SOPHIA--THE BREAD FRUIT-TREE--NATIVES OF POLYNESIA--STRIPED TROWSERS--ABDUCTION OF WILLIS--IS HE TO BE ROASTED OR BOILED?--WHEN THE WINE IS POURED OUT, WE MUST DRINK IT. At the date of the events narrated in the preceeding chapter, comparatively little was known of Oceania, that is, of the islands and continents that are scattered about the Pacific Ocean. Most of them had been discovered, named, and marked correctly enough in the charts, but beyond this all was supposition, hypothesis, and mystery. The mighty empire of England in the east was then only in its infancy, Sutteeism and Thuggism were still rampant on the banks of the Ganges, but the power of the descendants of the Great Mogul was on the wane. California was only known as the hunting-ground of a savage race of wild Indians. The now rich and flourishing colonies of Australia were represented by the convict settlement of Sydney. The Dutch had asserted that the territory of New Holland was utterly uninhabitable, and this was still the belief of the civilized world; nor was it without considerable opposition on the part of _soi-disant_ philanthropists that the English government succeeded in establishing a prison depot on what at the time was considered the sole spot in that vast territory susceptible of cultivation. At the present time, these formerly-despised regions send _one hundred tons of pure gold_ to England. The political state of Europe itself had at this time assumed a singular aspect. Napoleon had made himself master of nearly all the continental states; Spain, Portugal, Belgium, Holland, and a part of Germany were at his feet; and, by the Peace of Tilsit, he had secured the coõperation of Alexander, Emperor of Russia, in his schemes to ruin the trade and commerce of Great Britain. England, by her opportune seizure of the Danish fleet, broke up the first great northern confederacy that was formed against her. This act, though much impugned by the politicians of the day, is now known not only to have been perfectly justifiable, but also highly creditable to the political foresight of Canning and Castlereagh, by whom it was suggested, to say nothing of the daring and boldness that Nelson displayed in executing the manoeuvre. When news of this event reached the Russian Emperor it threw him into a paroxysm of rage, and he declared war against England in violent language. He had the insolence to make peace with France the _sina qua non_ of his friendship. At the distance of nearly half a century, the actual language employed has a peculiar flavor. The emperor, after detailing his grievances, declares that henceforth there shall be no connection between the two countries, and calls on his Britannic Majesty to dismiss his ministers, and conclude a peace forthwith. The British Government replied to this by ordering Nelson to set sail forthwith for the mouth of the Neva. A bitter and scorching manifesto was at the time forwarded to the emperor. It accused him flatly of duplicity, and boldly defied him and all his legions. The whole document is well worthy of perusal in these lackadaisical times. It is dated Westminister, December 18, 1807. It sets forth anew the principles of maritime war, which England had then rigidly in force. Napoleon had declared the whole of the British Islands in a state of blockade. The British Government replied by blockading _de facto_ the whole of Europe. This was done by those celebrated orders in council, which, more than anything else, precipitated the downfall of Napoleon. They threw the trade of the world into the hands of England. Of course, Russia was deeply affected, so was Spain and all the other maritime states; and they were all, one way or another, in open hostility with this country. But England laughed all their threats to scorn; and in the whole history of the country, there was not a more brilliant period in her eventful history. She stood alone against the world in arms. Even the blusterings of the United States were unheeded, and in no degree disturbed her stern equanimity. She saw the road to victory, and resolved to pursue it. But England then had great statesmen, and, of them all, Lord Castlereagh was the greatest, although he served a Prince Regent who cared no more for England or the English people, than the Irish member, who, when reproached for selling his country, thanked God that he had a country to sell. At length the ill-will of the Americans resolved itself into open warfare, and the United States was numbered with the overt enemies of England. This resulted in British troops marching up to Washington and burning the Capitol, or Congress House, about the ears of the members who had stirred up the strife. Meanwhile, all the islands of France in the east and west had been taken possession of; the British flag waved on the Spanish island of Cuba, and in the no less valuable possessions of Holland, in Java. Everywhere on the ocean England held undisputed sway. This state of things gave rise to one great evil--the sea swarmed with cruisers and privateers, English, French, and American; so that no vessel, unless sailing under convoy, heavily armed, or a very swift sailer, but ran risk of capture. The _Mary_--for so Fritz now called the pinnace--had been ten days at sea, the wind had died away, and for some time scarcely a zephyr had ruffled the surface of the water, the sails were lazily flapping against the mast, and but for the currents, the voyagers would have been almost stationary. It may readily be supposed that, under such circumstances, their progress was somewhat slow, and, as Jack observed, to judge from their actual rate of sailing, they ought to have started when very young, in order to arrive at the termination of the voyage before they became bald-headed old men. They prayed for a breeze, a gale, or even a storm; their fresh water was beginning to get sour, and they reflected that, if the calm continued any length of time, their provisions would eventually run short, and the ordinary resource of eating one another would stare them in the face. Jack, being the youngest, would probably disappear first, next Fritz, then Willis would be left to eat himself, in order to avoid dying of hunger, just as the unfortunate Count Ugolino devoured his own children to save them from orphanage. As yet, however, there were no symptoms of such a dire disaster; they were in excellent health and tolerable spirits; they had provisions enough to last them for six months at least, and consequently had not as yet, at all events, the slightest occasion to manifest a tendency to anthropophagism. "I can understand the sea," remarked Jack, "as I understand the land and the sky; God created them, that is enough; but I cannot understand how a mighty river like the Nile or the Ganges can continue eternally discharging immense deluges of water into the sea without becoming exhausted. From what fathomless reservoirs do the Amazon and the Mississippi receive their endless torrents?" "The reservoirs of the greatest rivers," replied Fritz, "are nothing more than drops of water that fall from the crevice of some rock on or near the summit of a hill; these are collected together in a pool or hollow, from which they issue in the form of a slender rivulet. At first, the smallest pebble is sufficient to arrest the course of this thread of water; but it turns upon itself, gathers strength, finally surmounts the obstacle, dashes over it, unites itself with other rivulets, reaches the plain, scoops out a bed, and goes on, as you say, for ever emptying its waters into the sea." "Yes; but it is the source of these sources that I want to know the origin of. You speak of hills, whilst we know that water naturally, by reason of its weight and fluidity; seeks to secrete itself in the lowest beds of the earth." "It is scarcely necessary for me to observe that water may come down a hill, although it never goes up. Rain, snow, dew, and generally all the vapors that fall from the atmosphere, furnish the enormous masses of water that are constantly flowing into the sea. The vapor alone that is absorbed in the air from the sea is more than sufficient to feed all the rivers on the face of the earth. Mountains, by their formation, arrest these vapors, collect them in a hole here and in a cavern there, and permit them to filter by a million of threads from rock to rock, fertilizing the land and nourishing the rivers that intersect it. If, therefore, you were to suppress the Alps that rise between France and Italy, you would, at the same time, extinguish the Rhone and the Po." "It would be a pity to do that," said Jack; "there was a time though when there were no Pyrenees." "That must have been, then, at a period prior to the formation of granite, which is esteemed the oldest of rocks." "No such thing," insisted Jack; "it was so late as 1713, when, by the peace of Utrecht, the crown of Spain was secured to the Duke of Anjou, grandson of Louis XIV." "Howsomever," remarked Willis, "all the mariners in the French fleet could not convince me that the Pyrenean mountains are only a hundred years old." "My brother is only speaking metaphorically," said Fritz; "when the crown of Spain was assigned to the Duke of Anjou, his grandfather said--_Qu il n'y avait plus de Pyrénées_. He meant by that simply, that France and Spain being governed by the same prince, the moral barrier between them existed no longer. The formidable mountains still stood for all that, and he who removes them would certainly be possessed of extraordinary power." "I am always putting my foot in it," said Willis, "when the yarn is about the land; let us talk of the sea for a bit. Who built the first ship?" "Well," replied Fritz, "I should say that the first ship was the ark." "Whence we may infer," added Jack, "that Noah was the first admiral." "We learn from the Scriptures," continued Fritz, "that the first navigators were the children of Noah, and it appears from profane history that the earliest attempts at navigation were manifested near where the ark rested; consequently, we may fairly presume that the art of ship-building arose from the traditions of the deluge and the ark." "In that case, the art in question dates very far back." "Yes, since it dates from 2348 years before the birth of Christ; but the human race degenerated, the traditions were forgotten, and navigation was confined to planks, rafts, bark canoes, or the trunk of a tree hollowed out by fire." "That is the sort of craft used by the inhabitants of Polynesia at the present day," remarked Willis. "It appears, however, by the Book of Job, that pirates existed in those days, and that they went to sea in ships and captured merchantmen, which proves, to a certain extent, that there were merchantmen to conquer. We know also that David and Solomon equipped large fleets, and even fought battles on sea." "Whether an ancient or modern, a Jew or a Gentile," said Willis, "he must have been a brave fellow who launched the first ship, and risked himself and his goods at sea in it." "True," continued Fritz; "but when once the equilibrium of a floating body was known, there would be no longer any risk; as soon as it came to be understood that any solid body would float if it were lighter than its bulk of water, the matter was simple enough." "Very good," interrupted Jack; "but the words 'when' and 'as soon as' imply a great deal; _when_, or _as soon as_, we know anything, the mystery of course disappears. But before! there is the difficulty. Particles of water do not cohere--how is it, then, that a ship of war, that often weighs two millions of pounds, does not sink through them, and go to the bottom? Individuals, like myself for example, who are not members of a learned society, may be pardoned for not knowing how water bears the weight of a seventy-four." "The seventy-four would, most undoubtedly, sink if it were heavier than the weight of water it displaced; but this is not the case; wood is generally lighter than water." "The wood, yes; but the cannon, the cargo, and the crew?" "You forget the cabooses, the cockpits, and the cabins, that do not weigh anything. Allowing for everything, the weight of a ship, cargo and all, is much lighter than its bulk of water, and consequently it cannot sink." "But how is it, then, that the immense bulk of a seventy-four moves so easily in the water? One would think that its prodigious weight would make it stick fast, and continue immoveable." "When the seventy-four in question has displaced its weight of water, its own weight is substituted for the water, and is in consequence virtually annihilated; it does not, in point of fact, weigh anything at all, and therefore is easily impelled by the wind." "When there is any, understood," added Jack. "And a yard or so of canvas," suggested Willis. "True," continued Fritz, "a sail or two would be very desirable; these instruments of propulsion do not appear, however, to have been used by the ancients. We first hear of a sail being employed at the time when Isis went in search of her husband Osiris, who was killed by his brother Typhon, and whose quarters were scattered in the Nile. This lady, it seems, took off the veil that covered her head, and fastened it to an upright shaft stuck in the middle of the boat, and, much to her astonishment, it impelled her onwards at a marvellous speed." "A clever young woman that," said Willis; "but I doubt whether veils would answer the purpose on board a seventy-four, particularly as regards the mainsail and mizentops." "The Phoenicians were the most enterprising of the early navigators. They appeared to have sailed round Africa without a compass, for they embarked on the Red Sea and reappeared at the mouth of the Nile, and the compass was not invented till the fourteenth century." "And who was the inventor of the compass?" inquired Willis. "According to some authorities, it was invented by a Neapolitan named Jean Goya; according to others, the inventor was a certain Hugues de Bercy." "Then," said Jack, "you do not admit the claims of the Chinese and Hindoos, who assert priority in the discovery?" "I neither deny nor admit their claims, because I do not know the grounds upon which they are founded; like the invention of gunpowder and printing, the discovery of the compass has many rival claimants." "I am of opinion," said Jack, "that Guttenberg is entitled to the honor of discovering printing, and that Berthold Schwartz invented gunpowder." "Perhaps you are right; but there is scarcely any invention of importance that has not two or three names fastened to it as inventors; they stick to it like barnacles, and there is no way to shake any of them off. So, in the case of illustrious men, nations dispute the honor of giving them birth; there are six or seven towns in Asia Minor that claim to be the birth-place of Homer. National vanities justly desire to possess the largest amount of genius; hence, no sooner does anything useful make its appearance in the world, than half a dozen nations or individuals start up to claim it as their offspring. The wisest course, under such circumstances, is to side with the best accredited opinion, which I have done in the case of the compass." "It was no joke," said Willis, "to circumnavigate Africa without a compass." "You are quite right, Willis, if you judge the navigation of those days by the modern standard; but it is to be borne in mind that the ancients never lost sight of the coast. They steered from cape to promontory, and from promontory to cape, dropping their anchor every night and remaining well in-shore till morning. If by accident they were driven out into the open sea, and the stars happened to be hidden by fog or clouds, they were lost beyond recovery, even though within a day's sail of a harbor; because, whilst supposing they were making for the coast, they might, in all probability, be steering in precisely the opposite direction." "It is certainly marvellous," said Jack, "that a piece of iron stuck upon a board should be a safe and sure guide to the mariner through the trackless ocean, even when the stars are enveloped in obscurity and darkness!" "It is a symbol of faith," remarked Willis, "that supplies the doubts and incertitudes of reason." "As for the ships, or rather galleys, of the ancients," continued Fritz, "with the exception of the ambitious fleets of the Greeks and Romans that fought at Salamis and Actium, one of the modern ships of war could sweep them all out of the sea with its rudder." "Yes," said Jack, "at the period of which you speak, the ancients possessed a great advantage over us. The winds in those days were personages, and were very well known; they were called Aeolus, Boreas, and so forth. They were to be found in caves or islands, and, if treated with civility, were remarkably condescending. Queen Dido, through one of these potentates, obtained contrary winds, to prevent Aeneas from leaving her." "By the way," said Willis, "there is, or at least was, in one of the Scottish rivers, a ship without either oars or sails." "Yes, very likely; but it did not move." "It did though, and, what is more, against both wind and tide." "I wish we had your wonderful ship here just now, it is just the thing to suit us under present circumstances," said Jack. "So it would, Master Jack, for it sails against currents, up rivers, and the crew care no more about the wind than I do about the color of the clouds when I am lighting my pipe." "You don't happen to mean that the _Flying Dutchman_ has appeared on the Scotch coast, do you, Willis?" "Not a bit of it, I mean just exactly what I say. It is a real ship, with a real stern and a real figure-head, but manned by blacksmiths instead of mariners." "Well, but how does it move? Does somebody go behind and push it, or is it dragged in front by sea-horses and water-kelpies?" "No, it moves by steam." "But how?" "Aye, there lies the mystery. The affair has often been discussed by us sailors on board ship; some have suggested one way and some another." "Neither of which throws much light on the subject," observed Jack; "at least, in so far as we are concerned." "All I can tell you," said Willis, "is, that the steam is obtained by boiling water in a large cauldron, and that the power so obtained is very powerful." "That it certainly is, if it could be controlled, for steam occupies seventeen or eighteen hundred times the space of the water in its liquid state; but then, if the vessel that contains the boiling water has no outlet, the steam will burst it." "It appears that it can be prevented doing that, though," replied Willis, "even though additional heat be applied to the vapor itself." "By heating the steam, the vapor may acquire a volume forty thousand times greater than that of the water; all that is well known; but as soon as it comes in contact with the air, nothing is left of it but a cloud, which collapses again into a few drops of water." "That may be all very true, Master Fritz, if the steam were allowed to escape into the air; but it is only permitted to do that after it has done duty on board ship. It appears that steam is very elastic, and may be compressed like India-rubber, but has a tendency to resist the pressure and set itself free. Imagine, for example, a headstrong young man, for a long time kept in restraint by parental control, suddenly let loose, and allowed scope to follow the bent of his own inclinations." "Very good, Willis; for argument's sake, let us take your headstrong young man, or rather the steam, for granted, and let us admit that it is as elastic as ever you please--but what then?" "Then you must imagine a piston in a cylinder, forced upwards when the steam is heated, and falling downwards when the steam is cooled. Next fancy this upward and downward motion regulated by a number of wheels and cranks that turn two wheels on each side of the ship, keeping up a constant jangling and clanking, the wheels or paddles splashing in the water, and then you may form a slight idea of the thing." "Oh!" cried Jack, "we invented a machine of that kind for our canoe, with a turnspit. Do you recollect it, Fritz?" "Yes, I recollect it well enough; and I also recollect that the canoe went much better without than with it." "You spoke just now," continued Willis, "of rival nations, who pounce like birds of prey upon every new invention; and so it is with the steamship. An American, named Fulton, made a trial in the Hudson with one in 1807--that is about five years ago--and I believe the Yankees, in consequence, are laying claim to the invention." "Now that you bring the thing to my recollection," said Fritz, "the idea of applying steam in the arts is by no means new, although, I must candidly admit, I never heard of it being used in propelling ships before. The Spaniards assert that a captain of one of their vessels, named Don Blas de Garay, discovered, as early as the sixteenth century, the art of making steam a motive power." "I don't believe that," said Jack. "Why?" "Because a real Spaniard has never less than thirty-six words in his name. If you had said that the steam engine was discovered by Don Pedrillo y Alvares y Toledo y Concha y Alonzo y Martinez y Xacarillo, or something of that sort, then I could believe the man to have been a genuine Spaniard, but not otherwise." "Spaniard or no Spaniard, the Spanish claim the discovery of steam through Don Blas; the Italians likewise claim the discovery for a mechanician, named Bianca; the Germans assign its discovery to Solomon de Causs; the French urge Denis Papin; and the English claim the invention for Roger Bacon." "You have forgotten the Swiss," said Jack. "The Swiss," replied Fritz, with an air of dignity, "put forward no candidate: steam and vapor and smoke are not much in their line. They discovered something infinitely better--the world is indebted to them for the invention of liberty. I mean rational, intelligent, and true liberty--not the savagery and mob tyranny of red republicanism. The three discoverers of this noble invention were Melchthal, Furst, and William Tell." "You can have no idea," continued Willis, "of the stir that steam was creating in Europe the last time I was there. Of course there were plenty of incredulous people who said that it was no good; that it would never be of any use; and that if it were, it would not pay for the fuel consumed. On the other hand, the enthusiasts held that, eventually, it would be used for everything; that in the air we should have steam balloons; on the sea, steam ships, steam guns, and perhaps steam men to work them; that on land there would be steam coaches driven by steam horses. Journeys, say they, will be performed in no time, that is, as soon as you start for a place you arrive at it, just like an arrow, that no sooner leaves the bow than you see it stuck in the bull's eye." "In that case," observed Jack, "it will be necessary to do away with respiration, as well as horses." "A Londoner will be able to say to his wife, My dear, I am going to Birmingham to-day, but I will be back to dinner; and if a Parisian lights his cigar at Paris, it will burn till he arrives at Bordeaux." "Holloa, Willis, you have fairly converted Fritz and me into marines at last." "I am only speaking of what will be, not of what is--that makes all the difference you know. It is expected that there will be steam coaches on every turnpike-road; so that, instead of hiring a post-chaise, you will have to order a locomotive, and instead of postboys, you will to engage an engineer and stoker." "Then, instead of saying, Put the horses to," remarked Jack, "we shall have to say, Get the steam up." "Exactly; and when you go on a pleasure excursion, you will be whisked from one point to another without having time to see whether you pass through a desert or a flower-garden." "What, then, is to become of adventures by the way, road-side inns, and banditti?" "All to be suppressed." "So it appears," said Jack; "men are to be carried about from place to place like flocks of sheep; perhaps they will invent steam dogs as well to run after stragglers, and bring them into the fold by the calf of the leg. Your new mode of going a-pleasuring may be a very excellent thing in its way, Willis; but it would not suit my taste." "Probably not; nor mine either, for the matter of that, Master Jack." "At all events," said Fritz, "you would run no danger of being upset on the road." "No; but, by way of compensation, you may be blown up." "True, I forgot that." "This conversation has carried us along another knot," said Jack, opening the log, which he had been appointed to keep; "and now, by your leave, I will read over some of my entries to refresh your memories as to our proceedings. "March 9th.--Wind fair and fresh--steered to north-west--a flock of seals under our lee bow--feel rather squeamish. "10th.--No wind--fall in with a largish island and four little ones, give them the name of Willis's Archipelago. "11th.--A dead calm--sea smooth as a mirror--all of us dull and sleepy. "12th.--Heat 90 deg.--shot a boobie, roasted and ate him, rather fishy--passed the night amongst some reefs. "13th.--Same as the 12th, but no boobie. "14th.--Same as the 13th. "Dreadfully tiresome, is it not," said Jack; "no wonder they call this ocean the Pacific." "Alas!" sighed Willis, thinking of the _Nelson_, "it does not always justify the name." "15th.--Hailed a low island, surrounded with breakers, named it Sophia's Island." "But all these islands have been named half a dozen times already," said Willis. "Oh, never mind that, another name or two will not break their backs." "16th.--Current bearing us rapidly to westward--caught a sea cow, and had it converted into pemican. "17th.--Shot another boobie, which we put in the pot to remind us that we were no worse off than the subjects of Henry IV. No wind--sea blazing like a furnace." "You will have to turn over a new leaf in your log by-and-by," said Willis, "or I am very much mistaken." "Well, I hope you are not mistaken, Willis, for I am tired of this sort of thing." A red haze now began to shroud the sun, the heat of the air became almost stifling, but the muffled roar of distant thunder and bright flashes of light warned the voyagers to prepare for a change. Willis reefed the canvas close to the mast, and suggested that everything likely to spoil should be put under hatches. This was scarcely done before the storm had reached them, and they were soon in the midst of a tropical deluge. At first, a light breeze sprung up, blowing towards the south-east, which continued till midnight, when it chopped round. Towards morning, it blew a heavy gale from east to east-south-east, with a heavy sea running. In the meantime, the pinnace labored heavily, and several seas broke over her. Willis now saw that their only chance of safety lay in altering their course. All the canvas was already braced up except the jib, which was necessary to give the craft headway, and with this sail alone they were soon after speeding at a rapid rate in the direction of the Polynesian Islands. The gale continued almost without intermission for three weeks, during which period Willis considered they must have been driven some hundreds, of miles to the north-west. The gale at length ceased, the sea resumed its tranquility, and the wind became favorable. The pinnace had, however, been a good deal battered by the storm, and their fresh water was getting low, and it was decided they should still keep a westerly course till they reached an island where they could refit before resuming their voyage. "The gale has not done us much good," said Jack, sadly; "if it had blown the other way, we might have been in the Indian Ocean by this time." "Cheer up," said Willis, taking the glass from his eye, "I see land about three miles to leeward, and the landing appears easy." "But the savages?" inquired Jack. "The islands of this latitude are not all inhabited," replied Fritz; "besides, under our present circumstances, we have no alternative but to take our chance with them." "Well, I do not know that," objected Jack; "it would be better for us to do without fresh water than to run the risk of being eaten." "What a beautiful coast!" cried Willis, who still kept the telescope at his eye. "Near the shore the land is flat, and appears cultivated; but behind, it rises gradually, and is closed in with a range of hills, covered with trees. There is a beautiful bay in front of us, which appears to invite us ashore. But the place is inhabited; the shore is strewn with huts, and I can see clumps of the bread-fruit tree growing near them." "What sort of vegetable is the bread-fruit?" inquired Fritz. "It is a very excellent thing, and supplies the natives with bread without the intervention of grain, flour-mills, or bakers. It can be eaten either raw, or baked, or boiled; either way, it is palatable. The tree itself is like our apple trees; but the fruit is as large as a pine-apple--when it is ripe, it is yellow and soft. The natives, however, generally gather it before it is ripe; it is then cooked in an oven; the skin is burnt or peeled off--the inside is tender and white, like the crumb of bread or the flour of the potato." "Let me have the telescope an instant," said Fritz; "I should like to see what the natives are like. Ah, I see a troop of them collecting on shore; some of them seem to be covered with a kind of wrought-steel armor." "Perhaps the descendants of the Crusaders," remarked Jack, "returning from the Holy Land by way of the Pacific Ocean!" "Others wear striped pantaloons," continued Fritz. "That is to say," observed Willis, "the whole lot of them are as naked as posts. What you suppose to be cuirasses and pantaloons, are their tabooed breasts and legs." "Are you sure of that, Willis?" "Not a doubt about it." "Such garments are both durable and economical," remarked Jack; "but I scarcely think they are suitable for stormy weather. But do you think it is safe to land amongst such a set of barebacked rascals, Willis?" "I should not like to take the responsibility of guaranteeing our safety; but I do not see what other course we can adopt." They had now approached within musket-shot of the shore. They could see that a venerable-looking old man stood a few paces in front of the group of natives. He held a green branch in one hand, and pressed with the other a long flowing white beard to his breast. "According to universal grammar," said Jack, "these signs should mean peace and amity." "Yes," replied the Pilot; "the more so that the rear-guard are pouring water on their heads, which is the greatest mark of courtesy the natives of Polynesia can show to strangers." "Gentlemen," cried Jack, taking off his cap and making a low bow, "we are your most obedient servants." "We must be on our guard," said Willis; "these savages are very deceitful, and sometimes let fly their arrows under a show of friendship. I will go on shore alone, whilst you keep at a little distance off, ready to fire to cover my retreat, if need be." The young men objected to Willis incurring danger that they did not share; but on this point Willis was inexorable, so they were obliged to suffer him to depart alone. By good chance, they had shipped a small cask of glass beads on board the pinnace. The Pilot took a few of these with him, and, placing a cask and a couple of calabashes in the canoe, he rowed ashore. The natives were evidently in great commotion; there was an immense amount of running backwards and forwards. Something important was, obviously enough, going forward; but, whether the excitement was caused by curiosity or admiration, it was hard to say. They might be preparing a friendly reception for the stranger, or they might be preparing to eat him--which of the two was an interesting question that Willis did not care about probing too deeply at that particular moment. Fritz and Jack anxiously watched the operations of the natives from the bay. They could not with safety abandon the pinnace; but to leave Willis to the mercy of the sinister-looking people on shore was not to be thought of either. The _Mary_ was, therefore, run in as close as possible, and Jack leaped on the sands a few minutes after the Pilot. Willis marched boldly on towards the natives, and when he arrived beside the old man, the crowd opened up and formed an avenue through which a chief advanced, followed by a number of men, seemingly priests, who carried a grotesque-looking figure that Jack presumed to be an idol. The figure was made up of wicker-work--was of colossal height--the features, which represented nothing on earth beneath nor heaven above, were inconceivably hideous--the eyes were discs of mother-of-pearl, with a nut in the centre--the teeth were apparently those of a shark, and the body was covered with a mantle of red feathers. At the command of the chief, some of the natives advanced and placed a quantity of bananas, bread-fruits, and other vegetables at the Pilot's feet; the priests then came forward and knelt down before him, and seemed to worship after the fashion of the ancients when they paid their devotions to the Eleusinian goddess, or the statue of Apollo. Meanwhile, Jack, on his side, was likewise surrounded by the natives, who was treated with much less ceremony than Willis. Instead of falling down on their knees, each of them, one after the other, rubbed their noses against his, and then danced round him with every demonstration of savage joy. Jack had now an opportunity of observing the personages about him more in detail. They were mostly tall and well-formed; their features bore some resemblance to those of a negro, their nose being flat and their lips thick; on the other hand, they had the high cheek-bones of the North American Indian and the forehead of the Malay. Nearly all of them were entirely naked, but wore a necklace and bracelets of shells. They were armed with a sort of spear and an axe of hard wood edged with stone. Their skins were tattooed all over with lines and circles, and painted; these decorations, in some instances, exhibiting careful execution and no inconsiderable degree of artistic skill. These observations made, Jack pushed his way to the spot where Willis was receiving the homage of the priests. "What! you here?" said the Pilot. "Yes, Willis, I have come to see what detained you. By the way, is there anything the matter with my nose?" "Nothing that I can see; but the natives of New Zealand rub their noses against each other, and probably the same usage is fashion here." "Why, then, do they make you an exception?" "I have not the remotest idea." The priests at length rose, and the chief advanced. This dignitary addressed a long discourse to Willis in a sing-song tone, which lasted nearly half an hour. After this, he stood aside, and looked at Willis, as if he expected a reply. "Illustrious chief, king, prince, or nabob," said Willis, "I am highly flattered by all the fine things you have just said to me. It is true, I have not understood a single word, but the fruits you have placed before me speak a language that I can understand. Howsomever, most mighty potentate, we are not in want of provisions; but if you can show us a spring of good water, you will confer upon us an everlasting favor." "You might just as well ask him to show you what o'clock it is by the dial of his cathedral," said Jack. "They would only point to the sun if I did." "But suppose the sun invisible." "Then they would be in the same position as we are when we forget to wind up our watches. Gentlemen savages," he said, turning to the natives and handing them the glass beads, "accept these trifles as a token of our esteem." The natives required no pressing, but accepted the proffered gifts with great good-will. The dancing and singing then recommenced with redoubled fury, and poor Jack's nose was almost obliterated by the constant rubbing it underwent. Suddenly the hubbub ceased, and a profound silence reigned throughout the assembly. The oldest of the priests brought a mantle of red feathers, similar to the one that covered the idol. This was thrown over the Pilot's shoulders; a tuft of feathers, something resembling a funeral plume, was placed upon his head, and a large semi-circular fan was thrust into his hand. Thus equipped, a procession was formed, one half before and the other half behind him. The _cortége_ began to move slowly in the direction of the interior, but the operation was disconcerted by Willis, who remained stock-still. "Thank you," he said, "I would rather not go far away from the shore." As soon as the natives saw clearly that Willis was not disposed to move, the chief issued a mandate, and four stout fellows immediately removed the idol from its position, and Willis was placed upon the vacant pedestal. The kind of adoration with which all these proceedings were accompanied greatly perplexed the voyagers. What could it all mean? Was this a common mode of welcoming strangers? It occurred to Jack that the Romans were accustomed to decorate with flowers the victims they designed as sacrifices to the altars of their gods before immolating them. This reminiscence made his flesh creep with horror, and filled him with the utmost dismay. "Willis!" he cried to the Pilot, whom they were now leading off in triumph, "let us try the effects of our rifles on this rabble; you jump over the heads of your worshippers, and we will charge through them to shore. I will shoot the first man that pursues us, and signal Fritz to discharge the four-pounder amongst them." "Impossible," replied Willis; "we should both be stuck all over with arrows and lances before we could reach the pinnace. Did I not tell you not to come ashore?" "True, Willis, but did you suppose I had no heart? How could I look on quietly whilst you were surrounded by a mob of ferocious-looking men?" "Well, well, Master Jack, say no more about it; I do not suppose they mean to do me any harm; but there would be danger in rousing the passions of such a multitude of people. They seem, luckily, to direct their attentions exclusively to me, so you had better go back and look after the canoe." "No; I shall follow you wherever you go, Willis, even into the soup-kettles of the wretches." "In that case," said Willis, "the wine is poured out, and, such as it is, we must drink it." CHAPTER XX. JUPITER TONANS--THE THUNDERS OF THE PILOT--WORSHIPPERS OF THE FAR WEST--A LATE BREAKFAST--RONO THE GREAT--A POLYNESIAN LEGEND--MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF OCEANIA--MR. AND MRS. TAMAIDI--REGAL POMP--ELBOW ROOM--KATZENMUSIK--QUEEN TONICO AND THE SHAVING GLASS--CONSEQUENCES OF A PINCH OF SNUFF--DISGRACE OF THE GREAT RONO--MARIUS--CORIOLANUS--HANNIBAL--ALCIBIADES--CIMON--ARISTIDES--A SOP FOR THE THIRSTY--AIR SOMETHING ELSE BESIDES OXYGEN AND HYDROGEN--MARYLAND AND WHITECHAPEL--HALF-WAY UP THE CORDILLERAS--HUMAN MACHINES--STAR OF THE SEA, PRAY FOR US! Was he on his way to the Capitol or to the Gemoniae? The solution of this question became, for the moment, of greater importance to Willis than the "to be or not to be" of Hamlet to the State of Denmark. This incertitude was all the more painful, that it was accompanied by myriads of insects, created by the recent rains; these swarmed in the air to such an extent, that it was utterly impossible to inhale the one without swallowing the other. The sailor, notwithstanding his elevated and somewhat perilous position, true to his instincts and tormented by the flies, took out his pipe, filled it, and struck a light. As soon as the first column of smoke issued from his mouth, the cavalcade halted spontaneously, the natives fell on their faces, their noses touching the ground, and in an attitude of the profoundest fear and apprehension. Jupiter thundering never created such a sensation as Willis smoking. The savages seemed glued to the earth with terror. If the Pilot had thought it advisable to escape, he might have walked over the prostrate bodies of his captors, not one of whom would have been bold enough to follow what appeared to be a human volcano, vomiting fire and smoke,--the fire of course being understood. Willis, however, now saw that he possessed in his pipe a ready means of awing them. Besides, it was clear that, through some fortunate coincidence, the natives had mistaken him for a divinity. There was, consequently, no immediate danger to be apprehended; he therefore became himself again, and began to enjoy the novelty of his new dignity. It was certainly a curious contrast. Willis, seated on a sort of throne, crowned with a waving plume of feathers, shrouded in a fiery mantle, and surrounded by a crowd of prostrate figures, was quietly puffing ribbons of smoke from the tips of his lips. There he sat, for all the world like a crane in a duck-pond. From time to time the more daring of the worshippers slightly raised their heads to see whether Jupiter was still thundering; but when their eye caught a whiff of smoke, they speedily resumed their former posture. Some of them even thrust their heads into holes, or behind stones, as if more effectually to shelter themselves from the fury of the fiery furnace. At last the eruption ceased, Willis knocked the ashes out of his pipe, replaced it in his pocket, and the convoy resumed its route. After half an hour's march, the procession halted near a clump of plantains, in front of a structure more ambitious than any of those in the neighborhood. A female, laden with rude ornaments, was standing at the door. This lady, who rivalled the celebrated Daniel Lambert in dimensions, would have created quite a _furore_ at Bartholomew Fair; according to Jack, she was so amazingly fat, that it would have taken full five minutes to walk round her. She took the Pilot respectfully by the hand, and led him into the interior of the building, which was crowded with images of various forms, and was evidently a temple. Willis, at a sign from his conductress, seated himself in a chair, raised on a dais, and surmounted by a terrific figure similar to the one already described, but draped in white feathers instead of red. The fat lady, or rather the high priestess--for she was the reigning potentate in this magazine of idols--took a sucking pig that was held by one of the priests. After muttering a prayer or homily of some sort, she strangled the poor animal, and returned it to the priest. By and by, the pig was brought in again cooked, and presented with great ceremony to Willis. There were likewise sundry dishes of fruit, nuts, and several small cups containing some kind of liquid. One of the priests cut up the pig, and lifted pieces of it to Willis's mouth; these, however, he refused to eat. The fat priestess, observing this, chewed one or two mouthfuls, which she afterwards handed to the Pilot. This was putting the sailor's gallantry to rather a rude test. He was equal to the emergency, and did not refuse the offering. But he must have felt at the time, that being a divinity was not entirely without its attendant inconveniences. Nor was this the only infliction of the kind he was doomed to withstand. One of the priests took up a piece of kava-root, put it into his mouth, chewed it, and then dropped a bit into each of the cups already noticed. One of these, containing this nectar, was presented to Willis by the fat Hebe who presided at the feast, and he had the fortitude to taste it. Another of the cups was handed to Jack. "No, I thank you," said he, shaking his head; "I breakfasted rather late this morning." Meantime, another personage had entered upon the scene. After having performed an obeisance to Willis like the rest, this individual backed himself to where Jack was standing, by this means adroitly avoiding both the kava and the nose-rubbings. He was distinguished from the other natives by an ornament round his waist, which fell to his knees. His skin seemed a trifle less dark, his features less marked; but his body was tattooed and stained after the common fashion. The new comer turned out to be a Portuguese deserter, who had abandoned his ship twenty years before, and had married the daughter of a chief of the island on which he now was. At the present moment, he filled the part of prime minister to the king, an office be could not have held in his own ungrateful country, since he could neither read nor write. These accomplishments, it appeared, were not, however, absolutely indispensable in Polynesia. It has been found that when a savage is transferred to Europe, he readily acquires the habits of civilized life. By a similar adaptation of things to circumstances, this European had identified himself with the savages. He had adopted their manners, their customs, and their costume. When he thought of his own country, it was only to wonder why he ever submitted to the constraint of a coat, or put himself to the trouble of handling a fork and spoon. He had not, however, entirely forgotten his mother tongue, and, moreover, still retained in his memory a few English words. He was likewise very communicative, and told Jack that they were in the Island of Hawai; that the name of the king was Toubowrai Tamaidi, who, he added, intended visiting the pinnace with the queen next day, to pay his respects in person to the great Rono. "His Majesty," said the Portuguese, "would have been amongst the first to throw himself at his feet, but unfortunately the royal residence is a good way off; and though both the king and the queen are on the way, running as fast as they can, it may take them some time yet to reach the shore." "But who is the great Rono?" inquired Jack. "Well," replied the prime minister, "you ought to know best, since you arrived with him." Jack felt that he was touching on delicate ground, and saw that it was necessary to diplomatise a little. "True," said he; "but I am not acquainted with the position that illustrious person holds in relation to Hawai." The Portuguese then made a very long, rambling, and not very lucid statement, from which Jack gleaned the following details. About a hundred years before, during the reign of one of the first kings, there lived a great warrior, whose name was Rono. This chief was very popular, but he was very jealous. In a moment of anger he killed his wife, of whom he was passionately fond. The regret and grief that resulted from this act drove him out of his senses; he wandered disconsolately about the island, fought and quarrelled with every one that came near him. At last, in a fit of despair, he embarked in a large canoe, and, after promising to return at the expiration of twelve hundred moons, with a white face and on a floating island, he put out to sea, and was never heard of more. This tradition, it appears, had been piously handed down from family to family. The natives of Hawai--who are not more extravagant in the matter of idols than some nations who boast a larger amount of civilization, but who do not destroy them so often--enrolled Rono amongst the list of their divinities. An image of him was set up, sacrifices were instituted in his honor. Every year the day of his departure was kept sacred, and devoted to religious ceremonies. The twelfth hundred moon had just set, when a large boat appeared in the bay, and a man came ashore. The high priest of the temple, Raou, and his daughter, On La, priestess of Rono, solemnly declared that the man in question was Rono himself, who had returned at the precise time named, and in the manner he promised. It was, therefore, clear from this statement that Willis was to be henceforward Rono the Great. Jack was rather pleased than otherwise to learn that he was the companion of a real live divinity. It assured him, in the first place, that the danger of his being converted into a stew or a fricassee was not imminent. He did not forget, however, that the consequences might be perilous if, by any chance, the illusion ceased; for he knew that the greater the height from which a man falls, the less the mercy shown to him when he is down. As soon, therefore, as the ceremonies had a little relaxed, and Willis was left some freedom of action, Jack went forward, and knelt before him in his turn. "O sublime Rono," said he, "I know now why your nose has escaped all the rubbings that mine has had to undergo." "Do you?" said Willis; "glad to hear it, for I am as much in the dark as ever." Jack then related to him the fabulous legend he had just heard. After a while, Willis shook off his _entourage_ as gently as possible, and succeeded in getting out of the temple. Accompanied by Jack, he proceeded towards the shore, receiving, as he went, the adoration of the people. The route was strewn with fruit, cocoa-nuts, and pigs, and the natives were highly delighted when any of their offerings were accepted by the deified Rono. The islanders appeared mild, docile, and intelligent, notwithstanding the singular delusion that possessed them. Living from day to day, they were, doubtless, ignorant of those continual cares and calculations for the future that in the old world pursue us even into the hours of sleep. Were they happier in consequence? Yes, if the child is happier than the man, and if we admit that we often loose in tranquillity and happiness what we gain in knowledge and perfection: yes, if happiness is not exclusively attached to certain peoples and certain climates; yes, if it is true that, with contentment, happiness is everywhere to be found. The houses of the Hawaians are singular structures, and scarcely can be called dwellings. They consist of three rows of posts, two on each side and one in the middle, the whole covered with a slanting roof, but without any kind of wall whatever. They do not bury their dead, but swing them up in a sort of hammock, abundantly supplied with provisions. It is supposed that this is done with a view to enable the souls of the departed to take their flight more readily to heaven. The practice, consequently, seems to indicate that the natives possess a confused idea of a future state. When a child dies, flowers are placed in the hammock along with the provisions--a touch of the nature common to us all. They express deep grief by inflicting wounds upon their faces with a shark's tooth; and, when they feel themselves in danger of dying, they cut off a joint of the little finger to appease the anger of the Divinity. There was scarcely one of the adult islanders who was not mutilated in this way. Though the worshippers of the great Rono appeared gentle and peaceable enough, there were to be seen here and there a human jaw-bone, seemingly fresh, with the teeth entire, suspended over the entrances to the huts. These ghastly objects sent a shudder quivering through Jack's frame, and made Willis aware that it would not be advisable rashly to throw off his sacred character. As it was now late, and as they knew that Fritz would be uneasy about them, they put off laying in their stock of water till next day. Jack told the prime minister that the great Rono would be prepared to receive their majesties whenever they chose to visit him. This done, Willis and his companion seated themselves in the canoe, and rowed out to the pinnace. "God be thanked, you have returned in safety!" cried Fritz; "I never was so uneasy in the whole course of my life." "Well, brother, we have not been without our anxieties as well, and had we not happened to have had a divinity amongst us, we might not have come off scathless." Jack then related their adventures, which gradually brought a smile to the pale lips of Fritz. "But the water?" inquired Fritz, after he had heard the story. "Oh, water; they offered us something to drink on shore that will prevent us being thirsty for a month to come, but we shall see to that to-morrow." Towards dark, some fireworks were discharged on board the pinnace, by way of demonstrating that Willis's pipe was not the only fiery terror the great Rono had at his command. Early next morning a flotilla of canoes were observed rounding one of the points that formed the bay. The one in advance was larger than the others, and was evidently the trunk of a large tree hollowed out. Jack's new friend, the Portuguese, hailed the pinnace, and announced the King and Queen of Hawai, who thereupon scrambled into the pinnace. His majesty King Toubowrai had probably felt it incumbent upon himself to do honor to the illustrious Rono, for he wore an old uniform coat, very likely the produce of a wreck, through the sleeves of which the angular knobs of his copper-colored elbows projected. He did not seem very much at his ease in this garment, which contrasted oddly with the tight-fitting tattooed skin that served him for pantaloons. His wife, Queen Tonico, princess-like was half stifled in a thick blanket or mat of cocoa-nut fibre. Her ears were heavily laden with teeth and ornaments of various kinds, made out of bone, mother of pearl, and tortoise-shell. Her nails were two or three inches long; and, to judge by the number of finger-joints that were wanting, she was either troubled with delicate nerves, or was slightly hypochondriac. The royal pair were accompanied by a band of music: fortunately, this remained in the regal barge. It consisted of a flute with four holes, a nondescript instrument, seemingly made of stones; a drum made out of the hollow trunk of a tree, covered at each end with skin, of what kind it is needless to inquire. The sounds emitted by this orchestra were of an ear-rending nature, and of a kind graphically termed by the Germans Katzenmusik. "Illustrious Rono," cried Jack, "for goodness sake, tell these gentlemen you are not a lover of sweet sounds." "Belay there!" roared Willis. This command, however, had no effect; the artists continued thumping and blowing away as before. Willis, thinking to make himself better heard, placed his hands on his mouth, and roared the same order through them. This action seemed to be received as a mark of approbation, for the noise became absolutely terrific. "No use," said Willis: "I can make nothing of them. You try what you can do." "Very good," said Jack, lighting what is technically termed an _artichoke_, but better known as a zig-zag cracker; "if they do not understand English, perhaps they may comprehend pyrotechnics." The artichoke was thrown into the royal barge. At first there was only a slight whiz, finally it gave an angry bound and leaped into the midst of the musicians. Startled, they tried to get out of its way; but they were no sooner at what they thought to be a safe distance, than the thing was amongst them again. Their majesties, who were just then engaged in kissing the Rono's feet, started up in alarm; but when they saw the danger did not menace themselves, they burst into a hearty laugh at the antics of their suite. This episode over, and the orchestra silenced, the Sovereign of Hawai proceeded to inspect the pinnace. He expressed his delight every now and then by uttering the syllables "_ta-ta_." Fritz handed one of those shaving glasses to the Queen that lengthen the objects they reflect. This astonished her Majesty vastly, and caused her to _ta-ta_ at a great rate. She looked behind the mirror, turned it upside down, and at last, when she felt assured that it was the royal person it caricatured, she commenced measuring her cheeks to account for the extraordinary disproportion. They next all sat down to a repast that was spread on deck. Their Majesties observing Rono use a fork, did so likewise; but though they stuck a piece of meat on the end of it, and held it in one hand, they continued carrying the viands to their mouths with the other. At the conclusion of the feast, Willis took a pinch of snuff out of a canister. Their Majesties insisted upon doing so likewise. Willis handed them the canister, and they filled their noses with the treacherous powder. Then followed a duet of sneezing, accompanied with facial contortions. The royal personages thinking, probably, that they were poisoned, leaped into the sea like a couple of frogs, and swam to the royal barge. "Holloa, sire," cried Jack, "where are you off to?" This was answered by the barge paddling away rapidly towards land. Hitherto, the whole affair had been a farce; but now the natives, who had collected in great numbers along the shore, seeing their king and queen leap into the water with a terrified air, supposed that an attempt had been made to cut short their royal lives, and, under this impression, discharged a cloud of arrows at the pinnace, and matters began to assume a serious aspect. "What!" exclaimed Jack, "shooting at the great Rono!" "That," said Fritz, "only proves they are men like ourselves. He who is covered with incense one day, is very often immolated the next." "And that simply because Rono treated Mr. and Mrs. What's-their-names to a pinch of snuff. Serve them right to discharge the contents of the four-pounder amongst them." "No, no," cried Willis; "the worthy people are, perhaps, fond of their king and queen." "Worthy people or not," said Fritz, drawing out an arrow that had sunk into the capstan, "it is very likely that if this dart had hit one of us, there would only have been two instead of three in the crew of the pinnace." "Well," said Willis, "Master Jack thought the voyage rather dull; now something has turned up to relieve the monotony of his log." "We are still without fresh water though, Willis; I wish you could say that had turned up as well." "It will be prudent to go in search of that somewhere else now," said Willis, unfurling the sails. "Fortunately the wind is fresh, and we can make considerable headway before night." As they steered gently out of the bay a second cloud of arrows was sent after them, but this time they fell short. "The belief in Rono is about to be seriously compromised," remarked Fritz; "I should advise the priestess to retire into private life." "Impossible." "Why?" "Because she is too fat to live in an ordinary house, she could only breathe in a temple. But, O human vicissitudes!" added Jack, rolling himself up in a sail after the manner of the Roman senators; "behold Rono the Great banished from his country, and compelled to go and pillow his head on a foreign sail, like Marius at Minturnus--like Coriolanus amongst the Volcians--like Hannibal at the house of Antiochus--like Alcibiades at the castle of Grunium in Phrygia, given to him out of charity by the benevolent Pharnabazus, and in which he was burnt alive by his countrymen--like Cimon, voted into exile by ballot and universal suffrage--like Aristides, whom the people got tired of hearing called the Just, and many others." "Who are all these personages?" inquired Willis. "They were worthies of another age," replied Fritz; "very excellent men in their way, and you are in no way dishonored by being numbered amongst them." "Yesterday," continued Jack, "an entire people were upon their knees before you; they offered up sacrifices, and poured out incense on their altars for you; fruit and pigs were scattered in heaps, like flowers, upon your path; the crowd were prostrated by the fumes of your pipe. To-day--alas, the change!--a cloud of arrows, and not a single glass of cold water!" "That gives you an opportunity of quenching your thirst with the nectar offered to you yesterday," said Fritz; "as for myself, I have no such resource." "Yes, that was a posset to quench one's thirst withal; I only wish I had a cupful to give you. I do not regret having had an opportunity of becoming acquainted with the people though. They have enabled me to rectify some erroneous notions I formerly entertained. If, for example, I were to ask you what air consists of? you would, no doubt, reply that is a compound body made of oxygen and hydrogen or azote, in the proportion of twenty-one of the one to seventy-nine of the other." "Yes, most undoubtedly." "Well, such is not the case; there are other elements in the air besides these." "If you mean that the air accidentally, or even permanently, holds in solution a certain quantity of water, or a portion of carbonic acid gas, and possibly some particles of dust arising from terrestrial bodies, then I grant your premises." "No; what I mean is, that the air of Hawai is composed of three distinct elements." "Possibly; but if so, the air in question is not known to chemists." "These three elements are oxygen, hydrogen, and insects." "Ah, insects! I might have fancied you were driving at some hypothesis of that sort." "I intend to communicate this discovery to the first learned society we fall in with." "In the Pacific Ocean?" "Yes: there or elsewhere." "I always understood," observed Willis, "that air was a sort of cloud, one and indivisible." "A cloud if you like, Willis; but do you know the weight of it you carry on your shoulders?" "Well, it cannot be very great, otherwise I should feel it." "What do you say to a ton or so, old fellow?" "If you wish me to believe that, you will have to explain how, where, when, why, and wherefore." "Very good. Willis; you have bathed sometimes?" "Yes, certainly." "In the sea?" "Yes." "Do you know what water weighs?" "No, but I know that it is heavy." "Well, a square yard of air weighs two pounds and a half, but a square yard of water weighs two thousand pounds. Now, can you calculate the weight of the water that is on your back and pressing on your sides when you swim?" "No, I cannot." "You are not sufficiently up in arithmetic to do that, Willis?" "No." "Nor am I either, Willis; but let me ask you how it is that the waves do not carry you along with them?" "Because one wave neutralises the effect of another." "Very good; but how is it that these ponderous waves, coming down upon you, do not crush you to atoms by their mere weight?" "Well, I suppose that liquids do not operate in the same way as solids: perhaps there is something in our bodies that counterbalances the effect of the water." "Very likely; and if such be the case as regards water, may it not be so also as regards air?" "But I do not feel air; whereas, if I go into water, I not only feel it, but taste it sometimes, and I cannot force my way through it without considerable exertion." "That is because you are organized to live in air and not in water. You ask the smallest sprat or sticklebake if it does not, in the same way feel the air obstruct its progress." "But would the stickleback answer me, Master Fritz?" "Why not, if it is polite and well bred?" "By the way, Willis," inquired Jack, "do you ever recollect having lived without breathing?" "Can't say I do." "Very well, then; had you felt the weight of the air at any given moment, it must have produced an impression you never felt before, but you have not, because circumstances have never varied. A sensation supposes a contrast, whilst, ever since you existed, you have always been subject to atmospheric pressure." "Ah, now I begin to get at the gist of your argument. You mean, for example, that I would never have appreciated the delicate flavor of Maryland or Havanna, had I not been accustomed to smoke the cabbage-leaf manufactured in Whitechapel." "Precisely so; and take for another example the farm of Antisana, which is situated about midway up the Cordilleras, mountains of South America. When travellers, arriving there from the summits which are covered with perpetual snow, meet others arriving from the plain where the heat is intense, those that descend are invariably bathed in perspiration, whilst those that have come up are shivering with cold and covered with furs. The reason of this is, that we cannot feel warm till we have been cold, and _vice versâ_." "Our bodies," resumed Fritz, "however much the thermometer descends, never mark less than thirty-five degrees above zero. In winter the skin shrinks, and becomes a bad conductor of heat from without; but, at the same time, does not allow so much gas and vapor to escape from within. In summer, on the contrary, the skin dilates and allows perspiration to form, a process that consumes a considerable amount of latent heat. Starting from this principle, it has been calculated that a man, breathing twenty times in a minute, generates as much heat in twenty-four hours as would boil a bucket of water taken at zero." "If means could be found," remarked Jack, "to furnish him with a boiler, by fixing a piston here and a pipe there man might be converted into one of the machines we were talking about the other day." "Were I disposed to philosophize," added Fritz, "I might prove to you that for a long time men have been little else than mere machines." Before night they had run about thirty miles further to the north-east, without seeing any thing beyond a formidable bluff, guarded by a fringe of breakers, that would soon have swallowed up the _Mary_ had she ventured to reach the land. It was necessary however to obtain fresh water at any price before they resumed their voyage. It was to be feared that all the islanders of the Pacific were not in expectation of a great Rono, consequently Willis suggested that it would be as well to search for an uninhabited spot. The only question was, how long they might have to search before they succeeded; for they knew that there were plenty of small islands in these latitudes unencumbered by savages, and furnished with pools and springs of water. Night at length closed in upon them, and with it came a dense mist, that enveloped the _Mary_ as if in a triple veil of muslin. "Willis," inquired Jack, "what difference is there between a mist and a cloud?" "None that I know of," replied the Pilot, "except that a cloud which we are in is mist, and mist that we are not in is a cloud. And now, my lads," he added, "you may turn in, for I intend to take the first watch." Before turning in, however, all three joined in a short prayer. The young men had not yet forgotten the pious precepts of their father. Prayer is beautiful everywhere, but nowhere is it so beautiful as on the open sea, with infinity above and an abyss beneath. Then, when all is silent save the roar of the waves and the howling of the winds, it is sublime to hear the humble voice of the sailor murmuring, "Star of the night, pray for us!" That night the star of the night did pray for the three voyagers, for the rays of the moon burst through the darkness and the mist, and fell upon a long line of reefs under the lee of the pinnace. Had they held on their course a few minutes longer, our story would have been ended. CHAPTER XXI. LYING TO--HEART AND INSTINCT--SPARROWS VIEWED AS CONSUMERS--MIGRATIONS--POSTING A LETTER IN THE PACIFIC--CANNIBALS--ADVENTURES OF A LOCKET. The glimpse of moonshine only lasted a second, but it was sufficient to light up the valley of the shadow of death. All around was again enveloped in obscurity. The moon, like a modest benefactor who hides himself from those to whose wants he has ministered, concealed itself behind its screen of blackness. The pinnace was thrown into stays, and they resolved to lie-to till daybreak. There might be rocks to windward as well as to leeward; at all events, they felt that their safest course lay in maintaining, as far as possible, their actual position; and, after having returned thanks for their almost miraculous escape, they made the usual arrangements for passing the night. Next morning they found themselves in the midst of a labyrinth of rocks, from which, with the help of Providence, they succeeded in extricating themselves. The rocks, or rather reefs, amongst which they were entangled, are very common in these seas. As they are scarcely visible at high water, they are extremely dangerous, and often baffle the skill of the most expert navigator. Whilst Willis steered the pinnace amongst the islands and rocks of the Hawaian Archipelago, Fritz kept a look-out for savages, fresh water, and eligible landing-places. And Jack, after having posted up his log, set about inditing a letter for home. "The voyage," said he, "has lately been so prolific in adventure, that I scarcely know where to begin." "Begin by saluting them all round," suggested Fritz. "But, brother of mine, that is usually done at the end of the letter," objected Jack. "What then? you can repeat the salutations at the end, and you might also, for that matter, put them in the middle as well." "I have written lots of letters on board ship for my comrades," remarked Willis, "and I invariably commenced by saying--_I take a pen in my hand to let you know I am well, hoping you are the same_." "What else could you take in your hand for such a purpose, O Rono?" inquired Jack. "Sometimes, after this preamble, I added, '_but I am afraid_.'" "I thought you old salts were never afraid of anything, short of the Flying Dutchman." "Yes; but the letters I put that in were for young lubbers, who, instead of sending home half their pay, were writing for extra supplies, and were naturally in great fear that their requests would be refused." "I scarcely think I shall adopt that style, Willis, even though it were recognized by the navy regulations." "Do you think the pigeon will find its way with the letter from here to New Switzerland?" inquired Willis. "I have no doubt about that," replied Fritz, "it naturally returns to its nest and its affections. If you had wings, would you not fly straight off in the direction of the Bass Rock or Ailsa Craig, to hunt up your old arm-chair?" "Don't speak of it; I feel my heart go pit-pat when I think of home, sweet home." "So do the birds. When they soften the grain before they throw it into the maw of their fledgelings--when they fly off and return laden with midges to their nests--when they tear the down from their breasts to protect their eggs and their young, do you think their hearts do not beat as well as yours?" "But all that is said to be instinct." "Heart or instinct, where is the difference? The Abbé Spallanzani saw two swallows that were carried to Milan return to Pavia in fifteen minutes, and the distance between the two cities is seven leagues." "That I can easily believe." "When you see a little, insignificant bird flying backwards and forwards, perching on one branch and hopping off to another, whistling, carolling, perching here and there, you think that it has no cares, that it does not reflect, and that it does not love!" "Well, I have heard in my time a great many wonderful stories of robin-redbreasts and jenny-wrens, but I always understood that they were intended only to amuse little boys and girls." "You consider, doubtless, that a field-sparrow is not a creature of much importance; but do you know that he consumes half a bushel of corn annually?" "If that is his only merit, the farmers, I dare say, would be glad to get rid of him." "But it is not his only merit. What do you think of his killing three thousand insects a week." "That is more to the purpose. But, to return to the pigeon, supposing it is possible for it to find its way, how long do you suppose it will take to get there?" "It is estimated that birds of passage fly over two hundred miles a day, if they keep on the wing for six hours." "Two hundred miles in six hours is fast sailing, anyhow." "Swallows have been seen in Senegal on the 9th of October, that is, eight or nine days after they leave Europe; and that journey they repeat every year." "They must surely make some preparations for such a lengthy excursion." "When the period of departure approaches, they collect together in troops on the chimneys or roofs of houses, and on the tops of trees. During this operation, they keep up an incessant cry, which brings families of them from all quarters. The young ones try the strength of their wings under the eyes of the parents. Finally, they make some strategic dispositions, and elect a chief." "You talk of the swallows as if they were an army preparing for battle, with flags flying, trumpets sounding, and ready to march at the word of command." "The resemblance between flocks of birds and serried masses of men in martial array is striking. Wild ducks, swans, and cranes fly in a kind of regimental order; their battalions assume the form of a triangle or wedge, so as to cut through the air with greater facility, and diminish the resistance it presents to their flight. "But how do you know it is for that?" "What else could it be for? The leader gives notice, by a peculiar cry, of the route it is about to take. This cry is repeated by the flock, as if to say that they will follow, and keep the direction indicated. When they meet with a bird of prey whose attacks they may have to repulse, the ranks fall in so as to present a solid phalanx to the enemy." "If they had a commissariat in the rear and a few sappers in front, the resemblance would be complete." "If a storm arises," continued Fritz, without noticing Willis's commentary, "they lower their flight and approach the ground." "Forgotten their umbrellas, perhaps." "When they make a halt, outposts are established to keep a look out while the troop sleeps." "And, in cases of alarm, the outposts fire and fall in as a matter of course." "Great Rono," said Jack, "you are become a downright quiz. I have finished my letter whilst you have been discussing the poultry," he added, handing the pen to his brother, "and it only waits your postscriptum." Fritz having added a few lines, the epistle was sealed, and was then attached to one of the pigeons, which, after hovering a short time round the pinnace, took a flight upwards and disappeared in the clouds. They were now in sight of a large island, which bore no traces of habitation. There was a heavy surf beating on the shore, but the case was urgent, so Willis and Jack embarked in the canoe, and, after a hard fight with the waves, landed on the beach. Each of them were armed with a double-barrelled rifle, and furnished with a boatswain's whistle. The whistle was to signal the discovery of water, and a rifle shot was to bring them together in case of danger. These arrangements being made, Jack proceeded in the direction of a thicket, which stood at the distance of some hundred yards from the shore. He had no sooner reached the cover in the vicinity of the trees than he was pounced upon by two ferocious-looking savages. They gave him no time to level his rifle or to draw a knife. One of his captors held his hands firmly behind his back, whilst the other dragged him towards the wood. At this moment the Pilot's whistle rang sharply through the air. This put an end to any hopes that Jack might have entertained of being rescued through that means. Had he sounded the whistle, it would only have led Willis to suppose that he had heard the signal, and was on his way to join him. Poor Jack judged, from the aspect of the men who held him, that they were cannibals, and consequently that his fate was sealed, for if his surmises were correct, there was little chance of the wretches relinquishing their prey. Jack had often amused himself at the expense of the anthropophagi, but here he was actually within their grasp. Though death terminates the sorrows and the sufferings of man, and though the result is the same in whatever shape it comes, yet there are circumstances which cause its approach to be regarded with terror and dismay. In one's bed, exhausted by old age or disease, the lips only open to give utterance to a sigh of pain; life, then, is a burden that is laid down without reluctance; we glide imperceptibly and almost voluntarily into eternity. At twenty years of age, however, when we are full of health and ardor, the case is very different. Then we are at the threshold of hope and happiness; our illusions have not had time to fade, the future is a brilliant meteor sparkling in sunshine. At that age our seas are always calm, and the rocks and shoals are all concealed. Our barks glide jauntily along, the sailors sing merrily, the perils are shrouded in romance, and the flag flutters gaily in the breeze. Then life is not abandoned without a tear of regret. To die in the midst of one's friends is not to quit them entirely. They come to see us through the marble or stone in which we are shrouded. It is another thing to have no other sepulchre than the æsophagus of a cannibal. How the recollections of the past darted into Jack's mind! He felt that he loved those whom he was on the point of leaving a thousand times more than he did before. What would he not have given for the power to bid them one last adieu? The idea of quitting life thus was horrible. It was in vain that he tried to shake off his assailants; his adolescent strength was as nothing in the arms of steel that bound him. He saw that he was powerless in their hands, and at length ceased making any further attempts to escape. The savages, finding that he had relaxed his struggles, commenced to rifle and strip him. They tore off his upper garments, and discovered a small locket, containing a medallion of his mother, which the unfortunate youth wore round his neck. This prize, which the savages no doubt regarded as a talisman of some sort, they both desired to possess. They quarrelled about it, and commenced fighting over it. Jack's hands were left at liberty. In an instant he had seized his rifle. He ran a few paces back, turned, took deliberate aim at the most powerful of his adversaries, who, with a shriek, fell to the ground. The other savage, scared by the report of the shot and its effects upon his companion, took to flight, but he carried off the locket with him. Jack had now regained his courage. He felt, like Telemachus in the midst of his battles, that God was with him, and he flew, perhaps imprudently, after the fugitive. Seeing, however, that he had no chance with him as regards speed, he discharged his second rifle. The shot did not take effect, but the report brought the savage to his knees. The frightened wretch pressed his hands together in an attitude of supplication. Jack stopped at a little distance, and, by an imperious gesture, gave him to understand that he wanted the locket. The sign was comprehended, for the savage laid the talisman on the ground. "Now," said Jack, "in the name of my mother I give you your life." By another sign, he signified to the man that he was at liberty, which he no sooner understood than he vanished like an arrow. Great was the consternation of Fritz when he heard the reports; he feared that the whole island was in commotion, and that both his brother and the Pilot were surrounded by a legion of copper-colored devils. From the conformation of the coast he could see nothing, and, like Sisiphus on his rock, he was tied by imperious necessity to his post. The Pilot, on hearing the first shot, ran to the spot, and both he and Jack arrived at the same instant, where the savage lay bleeding on the ground. "You are safe and sound, I hope?" said Willis, anxiously. "With the exception of some slight contusions, and the loss of my clothes, thank God, I am all right, Willis." "We are born to bad luck, it seems." "Say rather we are the spoilt children of Providence. I have just passed through the eye of a needle." "Is this the only savage you have seen?" "No, there were two of them; and, to judge from their actions, I verily believe the rascals intended to eat me. As for this one, he is more frightened than hurt." And so it was, he had escaped with some slugs in his shoulders; but he seemed, by the contortions of his face, to think that he was dying. "Fortunately," said Jack, "my rifle was not loaded with ball. I should be sorry to have the death of a human being on my conscience." "Well," said Willis, "I am not naturally cruel, but, beset as you have been, I should have shot both the fellows without the slightest compunction." "Still," said Jack, giving the wounded savage a mouthful of brandy, "we ought to have mercy on the vanquished--they are men like ourselves, at all events." "Yes, they have flesh and bone, arms, legs, hands, and teeth like us; but I doubt whether they are possessed of souls and hearts." "The chances are that they possess both, Willis; only neither the one nor the other has been trained to regard the things of this world in a proper light. Their notions as to diet, for example, arise from ignorance as to what substances are fit and proper for human food." "As you like," said Willis; "but let us be off; there may be more of them lurking about." "What! again without water?" "No, this time I have taken care to fill the casks; the canoe is laden with fresh water." "Fritz must be very uneasy about us; but this man may die if we leave him so." "Very likely," said the Pilot; "but that is no business of ours." "Good bye," said Jack, lifting up the wounded savage, and propping him against a tree; "I may never have the pleasure of seeing you again, and am sorry to leave you in such a plight; but it will be a lesson for you, and a hint to be a little more hospitable for the future in your reception of strangers." The savage raised his eyes for an instant, as if to thank Jack for his good offices, and then relapsed into his former attitude of dejection. Twenty minutes later the canoe was aboard the pinnace. "Fritz," said Jack, throwing his arms round his brother's neck, "I am delighted to see you again; half an hour ago I had not the shadow of a chance of ever beholding you more." CHAPTER XXII. THE UTILITY OF ADVERSITY--AN ENCOUNTER--THE HOROKEN--BILL ALIAS BOB. A light but favorable breeze carried them away from land, and they were once again on the open sea. Willis, after a prolonged investigation of the sun's position, taken in relation to some observations he had made the day before, concluded that the best course to pursue, under existing circumstances, was to steer for the Marian Islands.[H] In addition to the distance they had originally to traverse, all the way lost during the storm was now before them. As regards provisions, they had little to fear; they could rely upon falling in with a boobie or sea-cow occasionally, and fresh fish were to be had at any time. Their supply of water, however, gave them some uneasiness, for the quantity was limited, and they might be retarded by calms and contrary winds. The chances of meeting a European ship were too slender to enter for anything into their calculations. "It appears to me," said Jack, one beautiful evening, when they were some hundreds of miles from any habitable spot, "that, having escaped so many dangers, the watchful eye of Providence must be guarding us from evil." "Very possibly," replied Fritz; "one of the early chroniclers of the Christian Church says that Lazarus, whom our Saviour resuscitated at the gates of Jerusalem, became afterwards one of the most popular preachers of Christianity, and in consequence the Jews regarded him with implacable hatred." "But what, in all the world, has that to do with the Pacific Ocean?" inquired Jack. "Very little with the Pacific in particular, but a great deal with the ocean in general. Lazarus, his sisters, and some of his friends, were thrown into prison, tried, and condemned." "And stoned or crucified," added Jack. "No; the high priest of the temple had a great variety of punishments on hand besides these. He resolved to expose them to the mercy of the waves, without provisions, and without a mast, sail, or rudder." "Thank goodness, we are not so badly off as that." "_He_, for whom Lazarus suffered, and who is the same that nourishes the birds of the air and feeds the beasts of the field; watched over the forlorn craft; under his guidance, the little colony of martyrs were wafted in safety to the fertile coasts of Provence. They landed, according to the tradition, at Marseilles, of whom Lazarus was the first bishop, and has always been the patron saint. Who knows?--the same good fortune may perhaps await us." "We are not martyrs." "True; but Providence does not always measure its favors by the merits of those upon whom they are bestowed--misfortune, alone, is often a sufficient claim; so it is well for us to be patient under a little suffering, for sweet often is the reward." "A little hardship, now and then," added Jack, "is, no doubt, salutary. The Italians say: '_Le avversità sono per l'animo cio ch' è un temporale per l'aria_.' Suffering teaches us to prize health and happiness; were there no such things as pain and grief, we should be apt to regard these blessings as valueless, and to estimate them as our legitimate rights. For my own part, I was never so happy in my whole life as when I embraced you the other day, after escaping out of the clutches of the savages." "There are many charms in life that are almost without alloy: the perfume of flowers--music--the singing of birds--the riches of art--the intercourse of society--the delights of the family circle--the treasures of imagination and memory. Some of the most beneficent gifts of Nature we only know the existence of when we are deprived of them; occasional darkness alone enables us to appreciate the unspeakable blessing of light. Man has a multitude of enjoyments at his command; but so many sweets would be utterly insipid without a few bitters." "The rheumatism, for example," said Willis, rubbing his shoulders. "Many enjoyments," continued Fritz, "spring from the heart alone; the affections, benevolence, love of order, a sense of the beautiful, of truth, of honesty, and of justice." "On the other hand," said Willis, "there are dishonesty, injustice, disappointment, and blighted hopes; but you are too young to know much about these. When you have seen as much of the world on sea and on land as I have, perhaps you will be disposed to look at life from another point of view. In old stagers like myself, the tender emotions are all used up; it is only when we are amongst you youngsters that we forget the present in the past; when we see you struggling with difficulties, it recalls our own trials to our mind, rouses in us sentiments of commiseration, and softens the asperities of our years." "According to you, then," said Fritz, levelling his rifle at a petrel, "the misfortunes of the one constitute the happiness of the other?" "Unquestionably," said Jack; "for instance, if you miss that bird, so much the worse for you, and so much the better for the petrel." "It is very rarely, brother, that you do not interrupt a serious conversation with some nonsense." "Keep your temper, Fritz; I am about to propose a serious question myself. How is it that the petrel you are aiming at does not come and perch itself quietly on the barrel of your rifle?" "Jack, Jack, you are incorrigible." "Did you ever see a hare or a pheasant come and stare you in the face when you were going to shoot it?" "Stunsails and tops!" cried Willis, "if I do not see something stranger than that staring us in the face." "The sea-serpent, perhaps," said Jack. "I thought it was a sea-bird at first," said Willis, "but they do not increase in size the longer you look at them." "They naturally appear to increase as they approach," observed Fritz. "Yes, but the increase must have a limit, and I never saw a bird with such singular upper-works before. Just take a cast of the glass yourself, Master Fritz." "Halls of Æolus!" cried Fritz, "these wings are sails." "So I thought!" exclaimed Willis, throwing his sou'-wester into the air, and uttering a loud hurrah. "If it is the _Nelson_" said Jack, "it would be a singular encounter." "_The Nelson_!" sighed Willis, "in the latitude of Hawai; no, that is impossible." "She is bearing down upon us," said Fritz. "Just let me see a moment whether I can make out her figure-head," said Willis. "Aye, aye!" "Can you make it out?" "No; but, from the sheer of the hull, I think the ship is British built." "Thank God!" exclaimed both the young men. "Yes, you may say 'Thank God;' but, if it turns out to be a man-of-war, I must report myself on board, and I doubt whether my story will go down with the captain." "But if it is the _Nelson_?" insisted Jack. "Aye, aye; the _Nelson_," replied Willis, "is not going to turn up here to oblige us, you may take my word for that." "I have better eyes than you, Willis; just let me see if I can make her out. No, impossible; nothing but the hull and sails." "It is just possible," persisted Jack, "that the _Nelson_ may have been detained at the Cape, and afterwards blown out of her course like ourselves." "All I can say is," replied Willis, "that if Captain Littlestone be on board that ship, it will make me the happiest man that ever mixed a ration of grog. But these things only turn up in novels, so it is no use talking." "She has hoisted a flag at the mizzen," cried Fritz. "Can you make it out?" "Well, let me see--yes, it must be so." "What, the Union Jack?" cried Willis. "No, a red ground striped with blue." "The United States, as I am a sinner!" cried Willis. "Well, it might have been worse. We can go to America; there are surgeons there as well as in Europe--at all events, we can get a ship there for England. But let me see, we must hoist a bit of bunting; unfortunately, we have only British colors aboard, and I am afraid they are not in particularly high favor with our Yankee cousins just now." "Never mind a flag," said Fritz. "Oh, that will never do, they have hoisted a flag and are waiting a reply. But let me see," added Willis, rummaging amongst some stores, "here is one of our Shark's Island signals--that, I think, will puzzle the Yankee considerably." The Pilot's signal was answered by a gun, the report of which rang through the air. The strange ship's sails were thrown back and she stood still. A boat then put off with a young man in uniform and six rowers on board. "Pinnace ahoy!" cried the officer through a speaking trumpet, "who are you?" "Shipwrecked mariners," cried Fritz, in reply. "What is the name of your craft?" "The _Mary_." "What country?" "Switzerland." "I was not aware that Switzerland was a naval power," observed Willis. "She has no sea-port," said Jack, "but she has a fleet--of row boats." "Where do you hail from?" inquired the officer. "New Switzerland." "That gentleman is very curious," observed Jack. Here a silence of some minutes ensued; the officer seemed at fault in his geography. "Where away?" at last resounded from the trumpet. "Bound for Europe," replied Fritz. This reply elicited an expression of doubt, accompanied with such a tremendous exjurgation as made both Fritz and Jack almost shrink into the hold. A few minutes after the Yankee in command stepped on board, and explanations were entered into that perfectly satisfied the republican officer. He continued, however, to eye Willis curiously. The _Hoboken_, for that was the name of the strange ship, was an American cruiser, carrying twelve ship guns and a long paixhan. She was attached to the Chinese station, but had recently obtained information that war had been declared between England and the States. She was now making her way to the west by a circuitous route to avoid the British squadron, and, at the same time, with a view to pick up an English merchantman or two. Fritz and Jack being citizens of a sister republic, and subjects of a neutral power, were received on board with a hearty welcome, and with the hospitality due to their interesting position. Willis also received some attention, and was treated with all the courtesy that could be shown to the native of an enemy's country. The pinnace was taken in tow till the young men made up their minds as to the course they would adopt. A free passage to the States was kindly offered to them, and even pressed upon their acceptance; but the captain left the matter entirely to their own option. Fritz and Jack were delighted with the warmth of their reception; and, after being so long cooped up in the narrow quarters of the pinnace, looked upon the Yankee cruiser, with its men and officers in uniform, as a sort of floating palace. The _Nelson_ having been only a despatch-boat, it had given them but an indifferent idea of a man-of-war. On board the Yankee every thing was kept in apple-pie order. Discipline was maintained with martinet strictness. The fittings shone like a mirror. The brass cappings glistened in the sun. Complicated rolls of cable were profusely scattered about, but without confusion. The deck always seemed as fresh as if it had been planked the day before. The sails overhead seemed to obey the word of command of their own accord. The boatswain's whistle seemed to act upon the men like electricity. The seamen's cabins, six feet long by six feet broad, in which a hammock, locker, and lashing apparatus were conveniently stowed, were something very different from the accommodation on board the pinnace. These things were regarded by Fritz and Jack with great interest; and nowhere is the genius of man so brilliantly displayed as on board a well-appointed ship of war. The young men, however, when they sat down to dinner in the captain's cabin, and beheld a long table flanked with cushioned seats, commanded at each end by arm-chairs, the side-board plentifully garnished with plate and crystal of various kinds, fastened with copper nails to prevent damage from the ship's pitching, they did not reflect that they were in the crater of a volcano, and that two paces from where they sat there was powder enough to blow the ship and all its crew up into the air. They were likewise highly amused by the perpetual "guessing," "calculating," "reckoning," and inexhaustible curiosity of the crew; but their admiration of the ship, her guns, her stores, and her tackle, were boundless; they felt that their pinnace was a mere toy in comparison. The urbanity of the officers also was a source of much gratification to them; Jack even declared that all the civilization of Europe had been shipped on board the _Hoboken_, and in so far as that was concerned, they had no occasion to go on much further. The object of this expedition, however, was a surgeon. There was one on board. Would he go to New Switzerland? Jack determined to try, and accordingly he walked straight off to the personage in question. "Doctor," said he, "would you do myself and my brother a great favor?" "Certainly; and, if it is in my power, you may consider it done." "Well, will you embark with us for New Switzerland?" "For what purpose, my friend?" "My mother is laboring under a malady, which there is every reason to fear is cancer." "And suppose a fever was to break out in this ship whilst I am absent, what do you imagine is to become of the officers and crew?" "There are no symptoms of disease on board; but my mother is dying." "You forget, young man, that disease may make its appearance at any moment. There are many sons on board whose lives are as dear to their mothers as your mother's is to you, and for every one of these lives I am officially accountable." Jack hung down his head and was silent. "No, my good friend, it is impossible for me to grant such a request; but, from what I know of your history, and the means at your command, you may be able to obtain the services of a competent medical man. I would, therefore, recommend you to abandon your boat, and proceed with us to our destination." After a lengthy consultation, the two brothers and Willis determined to adopt this course. The cargo of the pinnace was accordingly transferred to the hold of the _Hoboken_. A short summary of their history was written, corked up in a bottle, and fastened to the mast of the _Mary_, which was then cut adrift. A tear gathered on the cheeks of the young men as they saw their old friend in adversity dropping slowly behind, and they did not withdraw their eyes from it till every vestige of its hull was lost in the shadows of the waters. As Fritz and Jack were thus engaged in gazing listlessly on the ocean, and reflecting upon their altered prospects, and perhaps trying to penetrate the veil of the future, Willis came towards them rubbing his breast, as if he had been seized with a violent internal spasm. "Hilloa," cried Jack, "the Pilot is sea-sick! Shall I run for some brandy, Willis?" "No, stop a bit; we were in hopes of falling in with Captain Littlestone, were we not?" "Yes; but what then?" "We were disappointed, were we not?" "Yes. That has not made you ill, has it?" "No; somebody else has turned up; there is one of the _Nelson's_ crew on board this ship." "One of the _Nelson's_ crew?" "Aye, and if you only knew how my heart beat when I saw him." "I can easily conceive your feelings," said Jack, "for my own heart has almost leaped into my mouth." "And I am thunderstruck," added Fritz. "I went towards my old friend," continued Willis, "with tears in my eyes, threw my arms round him, and gave him a hearty but affectionate hug." "And what did he say?" "Nothing, at first; but, as soon as I left his arms at liberty, he gave me such a punch in the ribs as almost doubled me in two; it was enough to knock the in'ards out of a rhinoceros--ugh!" "A blow in earnest?" exclaimed Fritz in astonishment. "Yes; there was no mistake about it; it was a real, good, earnest John Bull knock-down thump; it put me in mind of Portsmouth on a pay day--ugh!" "Extremely touching," said Jack, smiling. "Then, when I called him by his name Bill Stubbs, and asked what had become of the sloop, he said that he knew nothing at all about the sloop, and swore that he had never set his eyes on my figure-head before, the varmint--ugh!" "Odd," remarked Jack. "Are you sure of your man?" inquired Fritz. "But you say his name is Bill, whilst he declares his name is Bob." "Aye, he has evidently been up to some mischief, and changed his ticket." "Then what conclusion do you draw from the affair." "I am completely bewildered, and scarcely know what to think; perhaps the crew has mutinied, and turned Captain Littlestone adrift on a desert island. That is sometimes done. Perhaps--" "It is no use perhapsing those sort of melancholy things," said Fritz; "we may as well suppose, for the present, that Captain Littlestone is safe, and that your friend has been put on shore for some misdemeanour." "May be, may be, Master Fritz; and I hope and trust it is so. But to have an old comrade amongst us, who could give us all the information we want, and yet not to be able to get a single thing out of him--" "Except a punch in the ribs," suggested Jack. "Exactly; and a punch that will not let me forget the lubber in a hurry," added Willis, clenching his fist; "but I intend, in the meantime, to keep my weather eye open." A few weeks after this episode the _Hoboken_ was slowly wending her way along the bights of the Bahamas. Fritz, Jack, and Willis were walking and chatting on the quarter-deck. The sky was of a deep azure. The sea was covered with herbs and flowers as far as the eye could reach--sometimes in compact masses of several miles in extent, and at other times in long straight ribbons, as regular as if they had been spread by some West Indian Le Notre. The ship seemed merely displaying her graces in the sunshine, so gentle was she moving in the water. The air was laden with perfumes, and a soft dreamy languor stole over the friends, which they were trying in vain to shake off. In one direction rose the misty heights of St. Domingo, and in another the cloud-capped summits of Cuba. Sometimes the highest peaks of the latter pierced the veil that enveloped them, and seemed like islands floating in the sky, or heads of a race of giants. "The air here is almost as balmy and fragrant as that of New Switzerland," remarked Fritz. "Aye, aye," said the Pilot; "but it is not all gold that glitters: in these sweet smells a nasty fever is concealed, with which I have no wish to renew my acquaintance." "By the way, talking about acquaintances, Willis, have you obtained any further intelligence from your friend Bill, _alias_ Bob?" inquired Jack. "No, not a syllable; the viper is as cunning as a fox, and keeps his mouth as close as a mouse-trap." "He seems as obstinate as a mule, and as obdurate as a Chinaman into the bargain." "All that, and more than that; but," added Willis, "I have found out from the mate that he was pressed on board this ship at New Orleans." "Pressed on board?" said Fritz, inquiringly. "Yes; that is a mode of recruiting for the navy peculiar to England and the United States. Would you like to hear something about how the system is carried out?" "Yes, Willis, very much." "The transactions, however, that I shall have to relate are in no way creditable, either to myself or anybody else connected with them; and I am afraid, when you hear the particulars, you will be ready to turn round and say, your friend the Pilot is no good after all." "Have you, then, been desperately wicked, Willis?" "Well, that depends entirely upon the view you take of what I am to tell you. Listen." FOOTNOTES: [H] Sometimes called the _Ladrones_ or _Archipelago of Saint Lazarus_. CHAPTER XXIII. IN WHICH WILLIS SHOWS, THAT THE TERM PRESS-GANG MEANS SOMETHING ELSE BESIDES THE GENTLEMEN OF THE PRESS. "When I was a youngster, about a year or two older than you are now, Master Fritz, I slipped on board the brig _Norfolk_ as boatswain's mate. The ship at the time was short of hands, so there was no immediate probability of her weighing anchor; but on the same day I scratched my name on the books a despatch arrived, in consequence of which we left the harbor, and proceeded out to sea under sealed orders. One day, when off the Irish coast, I was called aft by the first lieutenant. "'You know something of Cork, my man, I believe?' said he. "'Yes, your honor, I have been ashore there once or twice,' said I. "'Very good,' said he; 'get ready to go ashore there again as quick as you like.' "Leave to go on shore is always agreeable to a sailor. He prefers the sea, but likes to stretch himself on land now and then, just to enjoy a change of air, and look about him a bit; so it was with all possible expedition that I made the requisite preparations. "When I reappeared, I found a party of twenty men mustered on deck in pipe-clay order. A full ration of small arms was served out to them, and, under the command of the lieutenant, we embarked in the long-boat and rowed ashore. We landed at a point of the coast some miles distant from Cork, and it was dark before we reached the military barracks of that town, which, for the present, appeared to be our destination. "I had not the slightest idea of what we were to do on shore. From our being so heavily armed, I knew it was no mere escort or parade duty that was in question, and began to think there was work of some kind on hand. This gave me no kind of uneasiness. I only wondered whatever it could be, for there was clearly a mystery of some kind or other. Were we going to besiege Paddy, in his own peaceable city of Cork? Had some of the peep-o'-day boys been burning down farmer Magrath's ricks again? or was there a private still to be routed out and demolished? I could not tell. "Half an hour after our arrival, I was called into a private room by the lieutenant, who was seated at a table with a package of clothes beside him. The first lieutenant of the _Norfolk_, I must remark, was a bit of an original. He had won his way up to the rank he then held from before the mast. His build was rather squat, and his face was garnished with a pair of fiery red whiskers, so he was no beauty, added to which he was reckoned one of the most rigid martinets in the service; yet, for all that, his crew liked him, for they knew his heart was in the right place. "'See, my man,' said he, 'take this package, and rig yourself out in the toggery it contains.' "I obeyed this order, and soon after stood before him, in a pair of jack-boots, with a slouching sort of tarpauling hat on my head, so that I might either have passed for a manner out of luck or a dustman. "'Well,' said the lieutenant, laughing, 'now you have quite the air of the hulks about you.' "This remark not being very complimentary, I did not feel called upon to make any reply. "'You know,' he continued, 'that the brig is short about a dozen hands, and I want you to pick up a few likely lads here. I understand there are a number of able-bodied seamen skulking about the public-houses, where they will likely remain as long as their money lasts. I should like to secure as many of them as possible, and then capture a few stout landsmen to make up the number; but, in the first place, I want you to go and find out the best place to make a razzia.' "I stared when I found myself all at once promoted to the post of pioneer for a party of kidnappers, and muttered something or other about honor. "'Honor, sir!' roared the lieutenant, 'what has honor to do with it, sir? It is duty, sir. It is the laws of the service, sir, and you must obey them, sir.' "'But it is hard, your honor,' said I, 'that the laws of the service should force men to do what they think is wrong.' "'And what right, sir, have you to think it is wrong, or to judge the acts of your superiors? If the laws of the service order you fifty lashes at the yard-arm to-morrow, you will find that you will get them. Do you want to be handed over to the drummer, and to cultivate an acquaintance with the cat?' "'No, your honor,' said I, laughing. "The lieutenant's face by this time was as red as his whiskers, and, though he was in a towering rage, he quickly calmed down again, like boiling milk when it is taken off the fire. "'Then,' said he, quietly, 'am I to understand you refuse?' "'No, your honor,' said I. 'If it is my duty, I must obey; but you will pardon the liberty, when I say that it is hard to be forced to drag away a lot of poor fellows against their wills.' "'Look ye,' replied the lieutenant, 'I tolerate your freedom of speech for two reasons--the first, because we are here alone, and no harm is done; the second, because I entertain the same opinion myself; but, mind you, we are both bound by the regulations of the service, and it is mutiny for either of us to disobey.' "According to the moral law, the mission with which I was charged could scarcely be considered honorable; but, according to the laws of the land, or rather of the sea, it was perfectly unexceptionable. Amongst the seamen, a foray amongst the landlubbers was regarded more in the light of a spree than anything else. If, indeed, it were possible to pick up the lazy and idle amongst the population, this mode of enlistment might be useful; but often the industrious head of a family was seized, whilst the idle escaped. It was rare, however, that a ship's crew were employed in this sort of duty; men were more usually obtained through the crimps on shore, who often fearfully abused the authority with which they were invested for the purpose. As for myself, the lieutenant's arguments removed all my scruples, if I ever had any. "I then suggested a plan of operations, which was approved. The men were to be kept ready for action, and the lieutenant himself was to await my report at the 'Green Dragon,' one of the hotels in the town. "At that time there was in the outskirts of Cork a sort of tavern and lodging-house, called the 'Molly Bawn.' This establishment was frequented by the lowest class of seamen and 'tramps.' Thither I wended my way. It was late when I arrived in front of the place; and whilst hesitating whether I should venture into such a precious menagerie, I happened to look round, and, by the light of a dim lamp that burned at the corner of the street, I caught a glimpse of the lieutenant leaning against the wall, quietly smoking an Irish dudeen." "Like Rono the Great in the island of Hawai," suggested Jack. "Something. This, however, cut short my deliberations. I walked in. There was a crowd of men and women drinking and smoking about the bar. These, however, were not the people I sought. The regular tenants of the house were not amongst that lot, and it was essential for me to find out in what part of the premises they were stowed. I commenced proceedings by ordering a noggin of whisky, and making love to the damsel that brought it in. After having formally made her an offer of marriage, I asked after the landlord. She told me he was engaged with some customers, but offered to take a message to him. "'Then,' said I, 'just tell him that a friend of One-eyed Dick's would like to have a parley with him.'" "And who was One-eyed Dick?" inquired Fritz. "One of the crew of a piratical craft captured by one of our cruisers a few months before, and who at that time was safely lodged in Portsmouth jail. "The girl soon returned. She told me to walk with her, and led me through some narrow passages into what appeared to be another house. She knocked at a door that was strongly barred and fastened inside. A slight glance at these precautions made me aware that there was no chance of making a capture here without creating a great disturbance. So, after reflecting an instant, I decided upon adopting some other course. "When the door was opened I could see nothing distinctly; there was a turf-fire throwing a red glare out of the chimney, a dim oil-lamp hung from the roof, but everything was hidden in a dense cloud of tobacco smoke, through which the light was not sufficiently powerful to penetrate." "The atmosphere must have been stifling," observed Fritz. "Yes, it puts me in mind of your remark about the air, which, you said, consists of--let me see--" "Oxygen and hydrogen." "Just so; but the air a sailor breathes when he is at home consists almost entirely of tobacco smoke. At last, I could make out twenty or thirty rough-looking fellows seated on each side of a long deal table covered with bottles, glasses, and pipes. Dan Hooligan, the landlord, sat at the top--a fit president for such an assembly. He was partly a smuggler, partly a publican, and wholly a sinner. I should say that the liquor consumed at that table did not much good to the revenue. How Dan contrived to escape the laws, was a mystery perhaps best known to the police." "So you are a pal of One-eyed Dick's, are you?' said he. "'Rather,' said I, adopting the slang of the place. "'Well,' said he, 'Dick has been a good customer of mine, and all his pals are welcome at the 'Molly.' I have not seen him lately, however--how goes it with him now?' "'Right as a trivet,' said I, 'and making lots of rhino.' "'Glad to hear it; and what latitude does he hail in now?' "'That,' said I, 'is private and confidential.' "'Oh,' said he, 'there are no outsiders here, we are all sworn friends of Dick's, every mother's son of us.' "'Then,' said I, 'Dick is off the Cove in the schooner _Nancy_, of Brest,'" "Holloa, Willis," cried Jack, "there was a fib!" "Well, I told you to look out for something of that sort when I began." "'What!' cried the landlord, 'Dick in a schooner off the Irish coast?' "'Yes,' said I; 'and aboard that schooner there is as tight a cargo of brandy and tobacco as ever you set eyes upon.' "Here the landlord pricked up his ears, and the rest of the company began to listen attentively. The fellow that sat next me coolly told me that both he and Dick had been lagged for horse-stealing, and had subsequently broken out of prison and escaped. He further told me that most of the gentlemen present had been all, one way or another, mixed up with Dick's doings; from which I concluded they were a rare parcel of scamps, and resolved, within myself, to try and bag the whole squad. They were all stout fellows enough, most of them seamen. I thought they might be able to 'do the State some service,' and determined to convert them into honest men, if I could.' "'Dick cannot come ashore,' said I; 'some one of his old pals here has peached, and there is a warrant out against him.' "This information threw the assembly into a state of violent commotion. They rose up, and swore terrible vengeance against the head of the unfortunate culprit when they caught him. The oaths rather alarmed me at first, for they were of a most ferocious stamp. "'Yes,' continued I, 'Dick is aboard the schooner, but, as there are two or three warrants out against him, he does not care about coming ashore; so said he to me, 'We want a lugger and a few hands to run the cargo ashore; and if you look in at the 'Molly,' and see my old pal, Dan, perhaps you will find some lads there willing to give us a turn. The captain said, if the thing was done clean off, he would stand something handsome." "'Just the thing for us!' shouted half a dozen voices. "'But the lugger?' said I. "'Oh, Phil Doolan, at the Cove, has a craft that has landed as many cargoes as there are planks in her hull. Besides, he has stowage for a fleet of East Indiamen.' "'Well, gentlemen," said I, 'the chaplain, One-eyed Dick, and myself, will be at Phil Doolan's to-morrow at midnight; do you agree to meet us there?' "This question was answered by a universal 'Yes;' and by way of clenching the affair, I ordered a couple of gallons of the stiffest potheen in the house. This was received with three cheers, and before I left the 'Molly' every man-jack of them had disappeared under the table. Dan himself, however, kept tolerably sober, and promised, on account of his friendship for One-eyed Dick, to have the whole kit safe at Phil Doolan's by twelve o'clock next night, and with this assurance I made my exit from the premises, and steered for the 'George and Dragon.' "The lieutenant agreed with me in thinking that it would cause too much uproar to attack the 'Molly Bawn.' He congratulated me on my success in laying a trap for the people, and promising to meet me at the Cove, he ordered a car, and drove off in the direction of the _Norfolk's_ boat. Early next morning I started to reconnoitre the ground and organize my plan of operations. I found Phil Doolan's mansion to be a mud-built tenement, larger, and standing apart from, the houses that then constituted the village. It was ostensibly a sailor's lodging-house and tavern for wayfarers, but, like the 'Molly Bawn,' was in reality a rendezvous of smugglers, occasionally patronized by fugitive poachers and patriots. It was known to its familiars as 'The Crib,' but was registered by the authorities as the 'Father Mahony,' who was represented on the sign-post by a full-length portrait of James the Second. What gave me most satisfaction was to observe that the building was conveniently situated for a sack. [Illustration] "When night set in I marched the _Norfolk's_ men in close order, and as secretly as possible, to the Cove. Approaching Phil Doolan's in one direction, I could just catch a glimpse of the red coats of a file of marines advancing in another, with the lieutenant at their head, and, exactly as twelve o'clock struck on the parish clock, the 'Father Mahony' was surrounded on all sides by armed men. Two or three lanterns were now lit, and dispositions made to close up every avenue of escape." "'There he is!' cried Willis, interrupting himself, and staring into the air. "Who?" inquired Jack--"Phil Doolan?" "No--Bill Stubbs, late of the _Nelson_." "Where?" "That squat, broad-shouldered man there, bracing the maintops." "Yes, now that you point him out, I think I have seen him before," said Fritz. "Holloa, Bill," cried Jack. "You see," said Willis, "he turned his head." "How d'ye do, Bill?" added Jack. "Are you speak'ng to me, sir?" inquired the sailor. "Yes, Bill." "Then was your honor present when I was christened? I appear to have forgotten my name for the last six-and thirty years." "No use, you see," said Willis; "he is too old a bird to be caught by any of these dodges. But I have lost the thread of my discourse." "You had surrounded the cabin, and were lighting lamps." "Half a dozen men were stationed at the door, pistol in hand, ready to rush in as soon as it opened. The lieutenant and I went forward and knocked, but no one answered. We knocked again, louder than before, but still no answer. "'Open the door, in the King's name!' thundered the lieutenant. Silence, as before. "Calling to the marines, he ordered them to root up Phil Doolan's sign-post, and use it as a battering ram against the door. The first blow of this machine nearly brought the house down, and a cracked voice was heard calling on the saints inside. "'Blessed St. Patrick!' croaked the voice, 'whativer are ye kicking up such a shindy out there for? Whativer d'ye want wid an old woman, and niver a livin' sowl in the house 'cept meself and Kathleen in her coffin?' "'Kathleen is dead, then?' said the lieutenant with a grin. "'Save yer honor's presence, she's off to glory, an' as dead as a herrin,' replied the voice. "'Really!' said the lieutenant, 'and where is Phil Doolan?' "'Och, yer honor? he's gone to get some potheen for the wake.' "'Well,' said the lieutenant, 'I should like to take a share in waking the defunct--what's her name?' "'Kathleen, yer honor.' "'Well, just let us in to take a last look at the worthy creature.' "The door then creaked on its rusty hinges, and we entered. Not a soul, however, was to be seen anywhere, save and except the old woman herself. The coffin containing the remains of Kathleen, resting on two stools, stood in the middle of the floor, with a plate of salt as usual on the lid. I fairly thought I had been done, and looked upon myself as the laughing stock of the entire fleet." "So far," remarked Jack, "your story has been all right, but the last episode was rather negligently handled." "How?" inquired Willis. "Why, you did not make enough of the coffin scene; your description is too meagre. You should have said, that the wind blew without in fierce gusts, the weathercocks screeched on the roofs, and caused you to dread that the ghost of the defunct was coming down the chimney; large flakes of snow were rushing through the half-open door; a solitary rushlight dimly lit up the chamber, and cast frightful shadows upon the wall." "Well; but the night was fine, and there was not a breath of wind." "What about that? A little wind, more or less, a weathercock or so, some drops of rain, or a few flakes of snow, do not materially detract from the truth, whilst they heighten the color of the picture." "And if some lightning tearing through the clouds were added?" "Yes, that would most undoubtedly increase the effect; but go on with your story." "I knew Phil to be an artful dodger, and was determined not to be foiled by a mere trick, so I laid hold of a lantern and closely examined the walls and flooring. My investigation was successful, for just under the coffin I detected traces of a trap-door." "'Well, my good woman, what have you got down there?" inquired the lieutenant. "'Is it underground, ye mane, yer honor? divil a hail's there, if it isn't the rats.' "'Well, just remove the coffin a little aside; we shall see if we cannot pepper some of the rats for you.' "Here the old woman appealed to a vast number of saints, and protested against Kathleen's remains being disturbed. The lieutenant, however, grew tired of this farce, and ordered the coffin to be shifted. A sailor accordingly laid hold of each end. "'Blazes!' said one, 'here is a body that weighs.' "'Perhaps,' said the other, 'the coffin is lined with lead.' "The trap-door was drawn up, and the lieutenant, pistol in hand, descended alone. "'Now, my lads,' said he, addressing some invisible personages, 'we know you are here, and I call upon you to yield in the King's name--resistance is useless, the house is surrounded, and we are in force, so you had better give in without more ado.' "No answer was returned to this exordium; but we heard the murmuring of muffled voices, as if the rapscallions were deliberating. I now descended with my lamp, followed by some of the seamen, and beheld my friends of the night before either stretched on the ground or propped up against the walls, like a lot of mummies in an Egyptian tomb. "They were handcuffed one by one, pushed or hauled up the stairs, and then tied to one another in a line. When we had secured the whole lot of them in this way-- "'Lieutenant,' said I, winking, 'will you permit me to send a ball into that coffin?' "'Please yourself about that, young man,' said he. "Here the old woman recommenced howling again and called upon all the saints in the calendar to punish us for my sacrilegious design. "'Shoot a dead body,' said I, 'where's the harm?' Besides, what is that salt there for?' "'To keep away evil spirits,' was the reply. "'Very well,' said I, 'my pistol will scare them away as well.' Then, cocking it with a loud clink, I presented it slowly at the coffin." "The lid all at once flew off--the salt-was thrown on the ground with a crash--the defunct suddenly returned from the other world in perfect health, and sat half upright in his bier. I did not recognize the individual at first, but, on closer inspection, found him to be my communicative companion of the preceding night--the horse-stealer of the 'Molly Bawn;' and, being a stout young fellow, he was harnessed to the others, and we commenced our march to the boats." "You do not appear to have had much trouble in effecting the capture," remarked Fritz. "No; the men were unarmed, and were nearly all intoxicated. You never saw such a troop; scarcely one of them could walk straight; they assumed all sorts of figures; the file of prisoners was just like a bar of music, it was a string of quavers, crotchets, and zig-zags. Luckily, it was late at night, else we might have had the village about our ears, and, instead of flakes of snow and screeching weathercocks, we might have had a shower of dead cats and rotten eggs. Probably a rescue might have been attempted; at all events, we might have calculated on a volley of brickbats on our way to the boats. There would have been no end of commotion, uproar, confusion, and hubbub, possibly smashed noses, blackened eyes, broken beads--" "Holloa, Willis!" "You said just now that a little colouring was necessary." "Certainly; but the privilege ought not to be abused. Besides, broken heads and smashed faces are the realities, and not the accessories of the picture." "Oh, I see. If it is night, the moon should be introduced; and if it is day, the sun--and so on?" "Of course; and, if the circumstances are of a pleasing nature, you must leave horrors and terrors on your pallette; change gusts into zephyrs, snow into roses and violets, and the weathercocks into golden vanes glittering in the sunshine." "I understand." "You want to color a popular outbreak, do you not?" "Yes." "Then you should introduce a tempest howling, the waves roaring, the lightning flashing, and discord raging in the air as well as on the earth." "Well, to continue my story. Although it was midnight, the disturbance began to wake up the villagers, and a crowd was collecting, so we hurried off our prisoners to the boats as speedily as we could. Some five and twenty able bodied men were thus added to his Majesty's fleet. The object of our visit to the Irish coast was accomplished, and the _Norfolk_ continued her voyage to the West Indies. Now you know what is meant by the word _pressed_, and likewise the nautical signification of the word _press-gang_." "And you say that Bill Stubbs has been trapped on board this ship by such means?" "Yes, at New Orleans." "According to your story, then, that does not say very much in his favor?" "No, not a great deal; still, that proves nothing--the fact of his calling himself Bob is a worse feature. A man does not generally change his name without having good, or rather bad, reasons for it." "What appears to me," remarked Fritz, "as the most singular feature of your press-gang adventure is, that you are alive to tell it." "Why so?" "Because I think it ought to end thus: 'The victims of the press-gang strangled Willis a few days after,'" "Aye, aye, but you do not know what a sailor is; our recruits had not been a fortnight at sea before they entirely forgot the trick I had played them." Just as Willis concluded his narrative, the man at the mast-head called out, "Sail ho!" "Where away?" bawled the captain. "Right a-head," replied the voice. The _Hoboken_ had hitherto pursued her voyage uninterruptedly, and the Yankee captain now prepared to signalize himself by a capture. CHAPTER XXIV. A SEA FIGHT--ANOTHER IDEA OF THE PILOT'S--THE BOUDEUSE. The captain of the _Hoboken_ was rather pleased than otherwise when the look-out reported the strange sail to show English colors. He looked rather glum, however, half an hour afterwards, when the same voice bawled that she was a bull-dog looking craft, schooner-rigged, and pierced for sixteen guns. The Yankee had hoped to fall in with a fat West Indiaman, instead of which he had now to deal with a man-of-war, carrying, perhaps, a larger weight of metal than himself. The heads of the two ships were standing in towards each other, there was no wind to speak of, but every hour lessened the distance that separated the antagonists. "Pilot," said the captain, addressing Willis, "be kind enough to let me know what you think of that craft." "I think," said Willis, taking the telescope, "I have had my eyes on her before. Aye, aye, just as I thought. An old tub of a Spaniard converted into an English cruiser, and commanded by Commodore Truncheon, I shouldn't wonder. She has caught a Tartar this time, however. Nothing of a sailer. If a breeze springs up, you may easily give her the slip, if you like, captain." "Give her the slip! No, not if I can help it. My cruise hitherto has not been very successful, and I must send her into New York as a prize. Mr. Brill," added he, addressing the officer next in command, "prepare for action." In an instant all was commotion and bustle on deck. Half an hour after, the captain, now in full uniform, took a hasty glance at the position of his crew. A portion of the men were stationed at the guns, with lighted matches. Others were engaged in heating shot, and preparing other instruments of destruction. Jack and Fritz, armed with muskets, were ready to act as sharp-shooters as soon as the enemy came within range, and Willis was standing beside them, with his hands in his pockets, quietly smoking his pipe. "What, Pilot!" exclaimed the captain in passing, "don't you intend to take part in the skirmish?" "I am much your debtor, captain, but I cannot do that." "And these young men?" "They are not Englishmen, and your kindness to them entitles you to claim their assistance. I am sorry that honor and duty prevent me giving you mine." "No matter, captain," said Fritz, "my brother and myself will do duty for three." "Then, Pilot, you had better go below." "With your permission, captain, I would rather stay and look on." "But what is the use of exposing yourself here?" "It is an idea of mine, captain. But I shall remain perfectly neutral during the engagement." "As you like then, Pilot, as you like," said the captain, as he resumed his place on the quarter-deck. At this moment a cannon ball whistled through the air. "Good," said Willis; "the commodore gives the signal." "That shot," observed Jack, "passed at no great distance from your head, Willis. You had better take a musket in self-defence. Besides, that ship is English, and you are a Scotchman." "The ship is a Spaniard by birth," replied Willis, "and it is pretty well time it was converted into firewood, for the matter of that. But it is the flag, my boy--_that_ is neither Spanish nor English." "What is it, then?" inquired Fritz. "It is the union-jack, Master Fritz. It is the ensign of Scotland, England, and Ireland united under one bonnet; and as such, it is as sacred in my eyes as if it bore the cross of St. Andrew." Musket balls were now rattling pretty freely amongst the shrouds. The young men levelled their muskets and fired. Soon after, the two ships were abreast of each other, and almost at the same instant both discharged a deadly broadside. The conflict became general. The crashing of the woodwork and the roaring of the guns was deafening. A thick smoke enveloped the two vessels, so that nothing could be seen of the one from the other; still the firing and crashing went on. The sails were torn to shreds, the deck was encumbered with fragments of timber; men were now and then falling, either killed or wounded, and a fatigue party was constantly engaged in removing the bodies. There are people who consider such a spectacle magnificent; but that is only because they have never witnessed its horrors. Already many immortal souls had returned to their Maker; many sons had become orphans, and many wives had been deprived of their husbands; but as yet there was nothing to indicate on which side victory was to be declared. Soon, however, a cry of fire was raised, which caused great confusion; and another cry, announcing that the captain had fallen, increased the disorder. A ball crashed through the taffrail, near where Jack and Fritz were standing; it passed between them, but they were both severely wounded by the splinters, and were conveyed by Willis to the cockpit. The doctor, seeing his old friend Jack handed down the ladder, hastened towards him and tore out a piece of wood from the fleshy part of his arm. He next turned to Fritz, who had received a severe flesh-wound on the shoulder. When both wounds were bandaged, he left the care of the young men to Willis, who had escaped with a few scratches, which, however, were bleeding pretty freely--to these he did not pay the slightest attention. "How stands the contest?" inquired Fritz in a weak voice. "The _Hoboken_ is done for," replied Willis; "the commodore was preparing to board when we left the deck; but it does not make much difference; we shall go to England instead of America, that is all." "God's will be done," said Fritz. Just then Bill Stubbs was swung down in a hammock; both his legs had been shot off by a cannon ball. The surgeon could only now attend to a tithe of his patients, so numerous had the wounded become. A glance at the new comer satisfied him that he was beyond all human skill, and he directed his attention to the cases that promised some hopes of recovery. Willis, seeing that his old comrade was abandoned to die almost uncared for, staunched his wounds as well as he could, fetched him a panniken of water, and performed a number of other little acts of kindness and good will. This he did, less with a view of obtaining an explanation from him at a moment when no man lies, than to mitigate the pangs of his last convulsions. For an instant the old mariner's body appeared re-animated with life. His eyes were fixed upon Willis with an ineffable expression of recognition and regret. He convulsively grasped the Pilot's hand and pressed it to his breast, and his lips parted as if to speak. Willis bent his ear to the mouth of the dying man, but all that followed was an expiring sigh. His earthly career was ended. The hardy sailor who is supposed never to shed a tear, then wiped the corner of his eyes. Next he turned to the children of his adoption, whose pale faces indicated the amount of blood they had shed, and whose wounds, if he could have transferred them to himself, would have less pained his powerful muscles than they now grieved his excellent heart. A party of boarders from the enemy had taken possession of the ship. Willis reported himself to the officer in command, and at his request, Fritz and Jack, together with the cargo of the pinnace, were conveyed on board the victorious schooner. Shortly after the _Hoboken_ was despatched to Bermuda as a prize, with the prisoners, the wounded, and the dying. The old tub that had gained this victory was named the _Arzobispo_, having, as Willis supposed, been captured in the Spanish Main. It was under the command of Commodore Truncheon, better known in the fleet by the _soubriquet_ of Old Flyblow. The _Arzobispo_, though old and clumsy, was a stout-built craft; and so thick was its hide, that the broadsides of the Yankee had done the hull no damage to speak of. The superstructure, however, was completely shattered; the masts and rigging hung like sweeps over the sides; and, to the unpractised eye, the ship was a complete wreck. A few days, however, sufficed to put everything to rights again so far as regards external appearance; but how this impromptu carpentry would stand a storm was another question. The commodore was on his way to Europe when he fell in with the Yankee, and, notwithstanding the disabled condition of the ship, he resolved to continue his voyage. Some of the officers expostulated with him on the hazard of crossing the Atlantic in so shaky a trim. He only got red in the face, and said that he had crossed the herring-pond hundreds of times in crafts not half so seaworthy. He was like the Froggy who would a wooing go, Whether his mother would let him or no. The consequences of this defiance of advice were fatal to Old Flyblow; for, a week or two after his victory, he was pounced upon by the French corvette, _Boudeuse_, which was fresh, heavily armed, and well manned. The commodore's jury masts were knocked to pieces by the first broadside, his flag went by the board, and he was completely at the enemy's mercy. Willis lent a hand this time with a good will; but it was of no use, the wreck would not obey the helm, and the corvette hovered about, firing broadsides, and sending in discharges of musketry, when and where she liked. It was only when the commodore saw clearly that there was neither mast nor sail enough to yaw the ship, that he waved his cocked hat in token of surrender. Fritz and Jack were still confined below with their wounds, when Willis brought them word that they would have to shift themselves and their cargo once more. The captain received them on board the _Boudeuse_ with marked courtesy, and informed them that he was bound direct for Havre de Grace. "It seems, then," said the Pilot, "that neither America nor England is to be our destination after all. But never mind, there are no lack of surgeons amongst the _mounseers_." "If we go on this way much longer," said Jack, sighing, "we shall be carried round the world without arriving anywhere. Alas, my poor mother!" CHAPTER XXV. DELHI--WILLIAM OF NORMANDY AND KING JOHN--ISABELLA OF BAVARIA AND JOAN OF ARC--POITIERS AND BOVINES--HISTORY OF A GHOST, A GRIDIRON, AND A CHEST OF GUINEAS. At first the three adventurers were regarded as prisoners of war; when, however, their entire history came to be known, and their extraordinary migrations from ship to ship authenticated, they were looked upon as guests, and treated as friends. "I thought I had only obtained possession of an English cruiser," said the captain; "but I find I have also acquired the right of being useful to you." The commander of the _Boudeuse_ was a very different sort of a person from Commodore Truncheon; the former treated his men as if every one of them had a title and great influence at the Admiralty, whilst the latter swore at his crew as if the word of command could not be understood without a supplementary oath. The English commodore might be the better sailor of the two, but certainly the French captain carried off the palm as regards politeness, urbanity, and gentlemanly bearing. The wounds of Fritz and Jack were healing rapidly under the skilful treatment of the French surgeon, and, with a lift from Willis, they were able to walk a portion of the day on deck. With reviving health, their cheerful hopes of the future returned, their dormant spirits were re-awakened, and their minds regained their wonted animation. "The corvette spins along admirably," said the Pilot, "and is steering straight for the Bay of Biscay." "Ah!" said Jack sighing, "it is very easy to steer for a place, but it is not quite so easy to get there. I am sick of your friend the sea, Willis; and would give my largest pearl for a glimpse of a town, a village, or even a street." "If you want to see a street in all its glory, Master Jack, you must try and get the captain to alter his course for Delhi." "But I should think, Willis, that there is nothing in the street-scenery of Delhi to compare with the Boulevards of Paris, Regent-street in London, or the Broadway of New York." "Beg your pardon there, Master Jack; I know every shop window in Regent-street; I have often been nearly run over in the Broadway, and can easily imagine the turn out on the Boulevards; but they are solitudes in comparison with an Indian street." "How so, Willis?" "Well, it is not that there are more inhabitants, nor on account of the traffic, for no streets in the world will beat those of London in that respect--it is because the people live, move, and have their being in the streets; they eat, drink, and sleep in the streets; they sing, dance, and pray in the streets; conventions, treaties, and alliances are concluded in the streets; in short, the street is the Indians' home, his club, and his temple. In Europe, transactions are negotiated quietly; in India, nothing can be done without roaring, screaming, and bawling." "There must be plenty of deaf people there," observed Jack. "Possibly; but there are no dumb people. Added to the endless vociferations of the human voice, there is an eternal barking of dogs, elephants snorting, cows lowing, and myriads of pigs grunting. Then there is the thump, thump of the tam-tam, the whistling of fifes, and the screeching of a horrible instrument resembling a fiddle, which can only be compared with the Belzebub music of Hawai. If, amongst these discordant sounds, you throw in a cloud of mosquitoes and a hurricane of dust, you will have a tolerable idea of an Indian street." "There may be animation and life enough, Willis, but I should prefer the monotony of Regent-street for all that. Would you like to air yourself in Paris a bit?" "Yes, but not just now; the less my countrymen see of France, under present circumstances, the better." "What is England and France always fighting about, Willis?" "Well, I believe the cause this time to be a shindy the _mounseers_ got up amongst themselves in 1788. They first cut off the head of their king, and then commenced to cut one another's throats, and England interfered." "That," observed Fritz, "may be the immediate origin of the present war [1812]. But for the cause of the animosity existing between the two nations, you must, I suspect, go back as far as the eleventh century, to the time of William, Duke of Normandy." "What had he to do with it?" "A great deal. He claimed a right, real or pretended, to the English throne. He crossed the Channel, and, in 1066, defeated Harold, King of England, at the battle of Hastings." "Both William and Harold were originally Danes, were they not?" inquired Jack. "Yes; I think Rollo, William's grandfather, was a Norman adventurer, or sea-king, as these marauders were sometimes called. William, after the victory of Hastings, proclaimed himself King of England and Duke of Normandy, and assumed the designation of William the Conqueror." "Then how did France get mixed up in the affair?" inquired Willis. "William's grandfather, when he seized the dukedom cf Normandy, became virtually a vassal of the King of France, though it is doubtful whether he ever took the trouble to recognize the suzerainty of the throne. As sovereign, however, the King of France claimed the right of homage, which consisted, according to feudal usage, in the vassal advancing, bare-headed, without sword or spurs, and kneeling at the foot of the throne." "Was this right ever enforced?" "Yes, in one case at least. John Lackland--or, as the French called him, John Sans Terre--having assassinated his nephew Arthur, Duke of Brittany, in order to obtain possession of his lands, was summoned by Philip Augustus, King of France, to justify his crime. John did not obey the summons, was declared guilty of felony, and Philip took possession of Normandy. Thus the first step to hostilities was laid down." "The English having lost Normandy, the vassalage ceased." "Yes, so far as regards Normandy; but, in the meantime, Louis le Jeune, King of France, unfortunately divorced his wife, Elenor of Aquitaine, who afterwards married an English prince, and added Guienne, another French dukedom to the English crown." "So another vassalage sprung up." "Exactly. All the French King insisted upon was the homage; but Edward III. of England, instead of bending his knee to Philip of Valois, argued with himself in this way: 'If I were King of England and France as well, the claim of homage for the dukedom of Guienne would be extinguished.'" "Rather cool that," said Jack, laughing. "'We shall then,' Edward said to himself, 'be our own sovereign, and do homage to ourself, which would save a deal of bother.'" "Well, he was right there, at least," remarked the Pilot. "The King of France, however, entertained a different view of the subject. Hence arose an endless succession of sieges, battles, conquests, defeats, exterminations, and hatreds, which, no doubt, gave rise to the ill-feeling that exists at present between England and France. It is curious, at the same time, to observe what mischief individual acts may occasion. If William of Normandy had remained contented with his dukedom, and Louis le Jeune had not divorced his wife, France would not have lost the disastrous battles of Agincourt and Poitiers." "Nor gained the brilliant victory of Bovines," suggested Jack. "Certainly not; but she would have been spared the indignity of having one of her kings marched through the streets of London as a prisoner." "True; but, on the other hand, the captured monarch would not have had an opportunity of illustrating the laws of honor in his own person. He returned loyally to England and resumed his chains, when he found that the enormous sum demanded by England for his ransom would impoverish his people: otherwise he could not have given birth to the maxim, 'That though good faith be banished from all the world beside, it ought still to be found in the hearts of kings.'" "One of the kings of Scotland," remarked Willis, "was placed in a similar position. The Scottish army had been cut to pieces at the battle of Flodden, the king was captured in his harness, conveyed to London, and the people had to pay a great deal more to obtain his freedom than he was worth. But, before that, the Scotch nearly caught one of the Edwards. This time the English army had been cut to pieces; but the king did not wait to be captured, he took to his heels, or rather to his horse's hoofs. He was beautifully mounted, and followed by half a dozen Scottish troopers; away he went, over hill and dale, ditch and river. Dick Turpin's ride from London to York was nothing to it. The king proved himself to be a first-rate horseman, for, after being chased this way over half the country, he succeeded in baffling his pursuers. All these escapades between England and Scotland are, however, forgotten now, or at least ought to be; there are, doubtless, a few thick-headed persons in both sections of the empire who delight in keeping alive old prejudices, but they will die out in time." "It seems, however, they have not died away yet," said Fritz, "in so far as regards France and England, since the two countries are at war again. But, as I observed before, had it not been for the ambition of William and the anti-connubial propensities of John, the English would never have been masters of Paris, and a great part of France under Charles VI." "Still, in that case," persisted Jack, "Charles VII. would not have had the opportunity of liberating his country." "Then," continued Fritz, "history would not have had to record the shameless deeds of Isabella of Bavaria." "Nor chronicle the brilliant achievements of Joan of Arc," added Jack. "Any how," observed Willis, "the mounseers are a curious people. I have heard it remarked that they are occupied all day long in getting themselves into scrapes, and that Providence busies herself all night in getting them out again." By chatting in this way, Fritz, his brother, and the Pilot contrived to relieve the monotony of the voyage, and to pass away the time pleasantly enough. Each contributed his quota to the common fund; Fritz his judgment, Jack his humor, and Willis his practical experience, strong good sense, and vigorous, though untutored understanding. A portion of Jack's time was passed with the surgeon, between whom a great intimacy had sprung up. Time did not, therefore, hang heavily on the hands of the young men; for even during the night their thoughts were busy forming projects, or in embroidering the canvas of the future with those fairy designs which youth alone can create. One morning Willis arrived on deck, pale, and with an air of fatigue and lassitude altogether unusual. He gazed anxiously into every nook and cranny of the ship. "Whatever is the matter, Willis?" inquired Jack. "Have you seen the Flying Dutchman?" "No, Master Jack," said he in a forlorn tone; "but I have either seen the captain or his ghost." "What! the captain of the _Hoboken_?" "No; the captain of the _Nelson_." "In a dream?" "No, my eyes were as wide open as they are now; he looked into my cabin, and spoke to me." "Impossible, Willis." "I assure you it is the case though, impossible or not." "Where is he then?" exclaimed both the young men, starting. "That I know not; I have looked for him everywhere." "What did he say to you?" "At first he said, How d'ye do, Willis?" "Naturally; and what then?" "He asked me what I thought of the cloud that was gathering in the south-west." "Imagination, Willis." "But look there, you can see a storm is gathering in that quarter." "The nightmare, Willis. But what did you say to him?" "I could not answer at the moment; my tongue clove to the roof of my mouth, and I rose to take hold of his hand." "Then he disappeared, did he not?" "Yes, Master Jack." "I thought so." "But I heard the door of my cabin shut behind him, as distinctly as I now hear the waves breaking on the sides of the corvette at this moment." "You ought to have run after him." "I did so." "Well, did you catch him?" "No; I was stopped by the watch, for I had nothing on me but my shirt; the officers stared, the sailors laughed, and the doctor felt my pulse. But, for all that, I am satisfied there is a mystery somewhere." "But, Willis, the thing is altogether improbable." "Well, look here; Captain Littlestone is either dead or alive, is he not?" "Yes," replied Jack, "there can be no medium between these hypotheses." "Then all I can say is this, that as sure as I am a living sinner, I have seen him if he is alive, and, if he is dead, I have seen his ghost." "You believe in visitations from the other world then, Willis?" "I cannot discredit the evidences of my own senses, can I?" "No, certainly not." "Besides, this brings to my recollection a similar circumstance that happened to an old comrade of mine. Sam Walker is as fine a fellow as ever lived, he sailed with me on board the _Norfolk_, and I know him to be incapable of telling a falsehood. Though his name is Sam Walker, we used to call him 'Hot Codlins.'" "Why, Willis?" "Because he had an old woman with a child tatooed on his arm, instead of an anchor, as is usual in the navy." "A portrait of _Notre Dame de Bon Lecours_, I shouldn't wonder," said Jack; "but what had that to do with hot codlins: a codlin is a fish, is it not?" "I will explain that another time," said Willis, the shadow of a smile passing over his pale features. "The short and the long of the story is, that Sam once saw a ghost." "Well, tell us all about it, Willis." "But I am afraid you will not believe the story if I do." "On the contrary, I promise to believe it in advance." "Very well, Master Jack. Did you ever see a windmill?" "No, but I know what sort of things they are from description." "There are none in Scotland," continued Willis; "at least I never saw one there." "How do they manage to grind their corn then? There should be oats in the land o' cakes, at all events," said Jack, with a smile. "Well, in countries that have plenty of water, they can dispense with mills on land. Though there are no wind-mills in Scotland, there are some in the county of Durham, on the borders of England, for it appears my mate Sam was born in one of them. His father and mother died when he was very young, and he, conjointly with the rats, was left sole owner and occupant of the mill. Some of the neighboring villagers, seeing the poor boy left in this forlorn condition, got him into a charity school, whence he was bound apprentice to a shipmaster engaged in the coal trade, by whom he was sent to sea. The ship young Sam sailed in was wrecked on the coast of France, and he fell into the hands of a fisherman, who put the mark on his arm we used to joke him about." "I thought so," said Jack; "the mark in question represents the patron saint of French sailors." "After a variety of ups and downs, Sam found himself rated as a first-class seaman on board a British man-of-war. He served with myself on board the _Norfolk_, and was wounded at the battle of Trafalgar [1806], which, I dare say, you have heard of." "Yes, Willis, it was there that your Admiral Nelson covered himself with immortal renown." "There and elsewhere, Master Fritz." "It cost him his life, however, Willis, and likewise shortened those of the French Admiral Villeneuve and the Spanish Admiral Gravina; that, you must admit, is too many eggs for one omelet." "As you once said yourself, great victories are not won without loss, and the battle of Trafalgar was no exception to the rule. Sam, having been wounded, was sent to the hospital, and when his wound was healed, he was allowed leave of absence to recruit his strength, so he thought he would take a run to Durham and see how it fared with the paternal windmill. Time had, of course, wrought many changes both outside and in, but it still remained perched grimly on its pedestal, but now entirely abandoned to the bats and owls. The sails were gone, and the woodwork was slowly crumbling away; but the basement being of hewn granite, it was still in a tolerable state of preservation. The place, however, was said to be haunted; exactly at twelve o'clock at night dismal howls were heard by the villagers to issue from the mill. According to the blacksmith, who was a great authority in such matters, Sam's father was a very avaricious old fellow, and had hid his money somewhere about the building; and you know, Master Jack, that when a man dies and leaves his money concealed, there is no rest for him in his grave till it is discovered." "I really was not aware of it before," replied Jack; "but I am delighted to hear it." "When Sam arrived, nobody disputed his title to the property, except the ghost; but Sam had seen a good deal of hard service, and declared that he would not be choused out of his patrimony for all the ghosts in the parish; and, in spite of the persuasions of the villagers, resolved to take up his abode there forthwith. Sam accordingly laid in a supply of stores, including a month's supply of tobacco and rum. He first made the place water-tight, then made a fire sufficient to roast an ox, and when night arrived made a jorum of grog, a little stiff, to keep away the damp. This done, he lit his pipe, and began to cook a steak for his supper. The old mill, for the first time since the decease of the former proprietor, was filled with the savory odor of roast beef." "And there are worse odors than that," remarked Jack. "Whilst the steak was frizzling, he took a swig at the grog; and, thinking one side was done, he gave the gridiron a twist, which sent the steak a little way up the chimney, and, strange to say, it never came down again. "'Ten thousand What's-a-names,' cried Sam, 'where's my steak?' "No answer was vouchsafed to this query; he looked up the chimney, and could see no one." "The steak had really disappeared then?" said Jack, inquiringly. "Yes, not a fragment remained; but he had more beef, so he cut off another; and, as his head had got a little middled with the grog, he thought it just possible that he might have capsized the gridiron into the fire, so he quietly recommenced the operation." "And the second steak disappeared like the first?" "Yes, Master Fritz, with this difference--there was a dead man's thigh-bone in its place." "An awkward transformation for a hungry man," said Jack. "'Here's a go!' cried Sam, like to burst his sides with laughing, 'they expect to frighten me with bones, do they? they've got the wrong man--been played too many tricks of that kind at sea to be scared by that sort of thing. Ha, ha, ha! capital joke though.'" "Your friend Sam must have been a merry fellow, Willis." "Yes, but he was hungry, and wanted his supper; so he continued supplying the gridiron with steaks as long as the beef lasted, but only obtained human shin-bones, clavicles and tibias. "'Never mind,' said Sam to himself, 'they will tire of this game in course of time.' "When the beef was done, he kept up a supply of rashers of bacon, and threw the bones as they appeared in a corner, consoling himself in the meantime with his pipe and his grog." "He must have been both patient and persevering," remarked Jack. "This went on till a skull appeared on the gridiron." "A singular object to sup upon," observed Jack. "'I wonder what the deuce will come next,' said Sam to himself, throwing the skull amongst the rest of the bones. "The next time, however, he took the gridiron off the fire, there was his last rasher done to a turn. "'Now,' said Sam, 'I am going to have peace and quietness at last.' "He sat down then very comfortably, and kept eating and drinking, and drinking and smoking, till the village clock struck twelve." "Good!" cried Jack. "You may come in now, ladies and gentlemen; the performance is just a-going to begin." "Sam heard a succession of crack cracks amongst the bones, and turning round he beheld a frightful-looking spectre, pointing with its finger to the door." "Was it wrapped up in a white sheet?" inquired Jack. "Yes, I rather think it was." "Very well, then, I believe the story; for spectres are invariably wrapped up in white sheets." "The bones, instead of remaining quietly piled up in the corner, had joined themselves together--the leg bones to the feet, the ribs to the back-bone--and the skull had stuck itself on the top. Where the flesh came from, Sam could not tell; but he strongly suspected that his own steaks and bacon had something to do with it. But, be that as it may, there was not half enough of fat to cover the bones, and the figure was dreadfully thin. Sam stared at first in astonishment, and began to doubt whether he saw aright. When, however, he beheld the figure move, there could be no mistake, and he knew at once that it was a ghost. Anybody else would have been frightened out of their senses, but Sam took the matter philososophically and went on with his supper. "'How d'ye do, old fellow?' he said to the spectre. 'Will you have a mouthful of grog to warm your inside? Sit down, and be sociable.' "The spectre did not make any reply, but continued making a sign for Sam to follow. "'If you prefer to stand and keep beckoning there till to-morrow you may, but, if I were in your place, I would come nearer the fire,' said Sam; 'you may catch cold standing there without your shirt, you know.' "The same silence and the same gesture continued on the part of the ghost, and Sam, seeing that his words produced no effect, recommenced eating." "There is one thing," remarked Jack, "more astonishing about your friend Sam than his coolness, and that is his appetite." "The spectre did not appear satisfied with the state of affairs, for it assumed a threatening attitude and strode towards the fire-place. "'Avast heaving, old fellow,' cried Sam, 'there is one thing I have got to say, which is this here: you may stand and hoist signals there as long as ever you like; but if you touch me, then look out for squalls, that's all.' "The 'old fellow,' however, paid no attention to this caution. He strode right up to the fire-place, and, whilst pointing to the door with one hand, grasped Sam's arm with the other. Sam started up, shook off the hand that held him, and pitched into the spectre right and left. But, strange to say, his hands went right through its bones and all, just as if it had been made of the hydrogen gas you spoke of the other day. Sam saw that it was no use laying about him in this fashion, for the spectre stood grinning at him all the time, so he gave it up. "'I wish,' said he, 'you would be off, and go to bed, and not keep bothering there.' "Still the spectre maintained the same posture, and kept pertinaciously pointing to the door. "'Well,' said Sam, 'since you insist upon it, let us see what there is outside. Go a-head, I will follow.' "The spectre led him into what used to be the garden of the mill, but the enclosure was now overgrown with rank and poisonous weeds. There was a path running through it paved with flagstones; the spectre pointed with its finder to one of them. Sam stooped down, and, much to his astonishment, raised it with ease. Beneath there was an iron chest, the lid of which he also opened, and saw that it was filled with old spade guineas and Spanish dollars. "'You behold that treasure!' said the spectre, in a hollow voice. "'Ha, ha, old fellow! you can speak, can you? Now we shall understand each other. Yes, I see a box, filled with what looks very like gold and silver coins.' "'I placed that treasure there before my death,' added the spectre. "'Ah, so! than you are dead?' said Sam. "'One half of that money I wish you to give to the poor, and the other half you may keep to yourself, if you choose.' "'Golley!' said Sam, 'you are not much of a swab after all, though you look as thin as a purser's clerk. Give us a shake of your paw, my hearty.' "Here Sam, somehow or other, stumbled over the lamp, and when he got up again the spectre had vanished. He laid hold of the chest, however, and groped his way back to the mill. When safe inside, he made a stiff jorum of grog, and then fell comfortably asleep. That night he dreamt that he was eating gold and silver, that he was his own captain, that the cat-o'-nine tails was entirely abolished in the navy, and that his ship, instead of sailing in salt water was floating in rum. When he awoke, the sun was steaming through all the nooks and crannies of the old mill. All the marks of the preceding night's adventures were there--the gridiron, the empty rum jar, the the table o'erturned in the _mélée_ with the ghost--but the chest of money was gone." "And what did Sam conclude from that incident?" inquired Fritz. "Well, he supposed that he had slept rather long, and that somebody had come in before he as up and had walked off with the box." "If I had been in his place," continued Fritz, "I should have said to myself that the mind often gives birth to strange fancies, particularly after a heavy supper, and that I had muddled my brain with rum; consequently, that all the things I imagined I had seen were only the chimeras of a dream." "But that could not be, Master Fritz, for two reasons; the first, that the mark of the ghost's hand remained on his arm." "Very likely burnt it when he grilled the bacon." "The second, that the ghost was no more seen or heard of in the mill." "That proof is a poser for you, brother, I think," said Jack. "Did you heave that sigh just now, Master Fritz?" inquired Willis, in a low tone. "It was not I," said Fritz, looking at his brother. "Nor I," said Jack, looking at Willis. "Nor I," said Willis, looking behind him. CHAPTER XXVI. WILLIS FALLS IN WITH THE SLOOP ON TERRA FIRMA, INSTEAD OF AT THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA, AS MIGHT HAVE BEEN EXPECTED--ADMIRAL CICERO--THE DEFUNCT NOT YET DEAD. The corvette, notwithstanding the multitude of British cruisers scattered about the ocean, and the other dangers that beset her, held on the even tenor of her way. A gale sprung up now and then, but they only tended to give a filip to the common-place incidents recorded in the log. This quietude was not, however, enjoyed by all the persons on board. Willis was a prey to violent emotions; and so it often happens, in the midst of the profoundest calm, storms often rage in the heart of man. Whether in reality or in a dream, Willis declared that Captain Littlestone paid him a visit every night, and invariably asked him precisely the same questions. On these occasions, Willis asserted that he distinctly heard the door open and shut whilst a shadow glided through. That he might once, or even twice, have been the dupe of his own imagination, is probable enough; but a healthy mind does not permit a delusion to be indefinitely prolonged--it struggles with the hallucination, and eventually shakes it off; providing always the mind has a shadow, and not a reality, to deal with, and that the patient is not a monomaniac. The dilemma was consequently reduced to this position--either Willis was mad, or Captain Littlestone was on board the _Boudeuse_. In all other respects, Willis was perfectly sane. He himself searched every corner of the ship, but without other result than a confirmation of his own impression that there were no officers on board other than those of the corvette; and yet, notwithstanding his own conviction in daylight, he still continued to assert the reality of his interviews with Captain Littlestone during the night. The Italians say, _La speranza è il sogno d'an uomo svegliato_. Was Willis also dreaming with his eyes open? Might not the wish be father to the thought, and the thought produce the fancy? There is only one other supposition to be hazarded--could it be possible, in spite of all his researches, that Willis did see what he maintained with so much pertinacity he had seen? These questions are too astute to admit of answers without due consideration and reflection; therefore, with the reader's permission, we shall leave the replies over for the present. On the 12th June a voice from the mast-head called "Land ahoy!" much to the delight of the voyagers. The land in question was the island of St. Helena. This sea-girt rock had not at that time become classic ground. It had not yet become the prison and mausoleum of Napoleon the Great. The petulant squabbles between Sir Hudson Lowe and his illustrious prisoner had not been heard of. Little wotted then the proud ruler of France the fate that awaited him, for, when the _Boudeuse_ touched at the island, all Europe, with the single exception of England, was kneeling at his feet. On the 30th the Island of Ascension was reached. Here, in accordance with a usage peculiar to French sailors, a bottle, containing a short abstract of the ship's log, was committed to the deep. Willis thought this ceremony, under existing circumstances, would have been better observed in the breach than the observance, for, said he, if a British cruiser picked up that bottle within twenty-four hours, she stood a chance of picking up the _Boudeuse_ as well. On the 15th July the peak of Teneriffe hove in sight This remarkable basaltic rock rises to the extraordinary height of three thousand eight hundred yards above the level of the sea; it is consequently seen at a considerable distance, and constitutes a valuable landmark for navigators in these seas. Six weeks later the _Boudeuse_ dropped anchor in the Havre roads. Here the three adventurers had to encounter by far the greatest misfortune that had as yet befallen them. The continental system of Napoleon was then in force. The importation of everything English or Indian was strictly prohibited. The cargo the young men had brought with them from New Switzerland, which already had escaped so many perils, was, therefore, declared contraband, and seized by the French _fisc_--an institution that rarely permitted such a prize to quit its rapacious grasp. Behold now our poor friends, Fritz and Jack, in a strange land, deprived at once of their fortune and their chance of returning home--the two beacons that had cheered them on their way! All their bright hopes of the future were thus annihilated at one fell swoop. Their fortitude almost gave way under the severity of this blow; the excess of their distress alone saved them. Grief requires leisure to give itself free vent; but when we are compelled, by absolute necessity, to earn our daily bread, we cannot find time for tears; and such was the case with Willis and his two friends; they were here without a friend and without resources of any kind whatever. If they had only known Greek and Latin; if they had only been half doctors or three-quarter barristers, or if even they had been doctors and lawyers complete, it would have sorely puzzled their skill to have raised a single sous in hard cash. Fortunately, however, whilst cultivating their minds, they had acquired the art of handling a saw and wielding a hammer. The blouse of the workman, consequently, fitted them as well as the gown of the student, and they set themselves manfully to earn a living by the sweat of their brow. They were carpenters and blacksmiths by turns, regulating their occupations by the grand doctrines of supply and demand. Jack alone of the three was defective in steadiness; he only joined Willis and his brother at mid-day. What he did with himself during the forenoon was a profound mystery. He rose before daybreak, and disappeared no one knew where, or for what purpose. His companions in adversity endeavored in vain to discover his secret; he was determined to conceal his movements, and succeeded in baffling their curiosity. To judge, however, by the ardor with which he worked, he was engaged in some one of those schemes that are termed follies before success, but which, after success, are universally acknowledged to be brilliant and praiseworthy instances of industrial enterprise. If, after a hard day's work, when assembled together in the little room that served them for parlor, kitchen, and hall, the power of regret vanquished fatigue, and sadness drove away sleep, then Jack, who compared himself to Peter the Great, when a voluntary exile in the shipyards of Saardam, would endeavor to infuse a little mirth into the lugubrious party. If all his efforts to make them merry failed, all three would join together in a humble prayer to their Heavenly Father, who bestowed resignation upon them instead. If Willis and his two friends were not accumulating wealth, at all events they were earning the bread they ate honestly and worthily. They had all three laid their shoulders vigorously to the wheel and kept it jogging along marvellously for a month. By that time, a detailed report of the seizure of their property had been placed before the director of the Domaine Extraordinaire, who was the sovereign authority in all matters pertaining to the exchequer of the empire. He saw at once that this capture was extremely harsh, and probably thought that, if it became known, it would raise a storm of indignation about the ears of his department. Here were two young men--Moseses, as it were, saved from the bulrushes. Lost in the desert from the period of their birth, and ignorant of the dissensions then raging in Europe, they were unquestionably beyond the ordinary operation of the law. This will never do, he probably said to himself; the civilization which these two young men have come through so many perils to seek ought not to appear to them, the moment they arrived in Europe, in the form of spoliation and barbarism. The name of this _extraordinary_ director of Domaine Extraordinaire was M. de la Boullerie, and, when we fall in with the name of a really good-hearted man, we delight to record it. He felt that the two young men had been hardly dealt with, but he had not the power to order a restitution of the property, now that the seizure had been made, and sundry perquisities, of course, deducted by the excise officials. Accordingly, he referred the matter to the Emperor, who commanded the goods to be immediately restored intact. Napoleon, at the same time, praised the functionary we have named for calling his attention to the merits of the case, and thanked him for such an opportunity of repairing an injustice.[I] There are many such instances of generosity as the foregoing in the career of the great Emperor--mild rays of the sun in the midst of thunderstorms; sweet flowers blowing here and there, in the bosom of the gigantic projects of his life--which many will esteem more highly than his miracles of strategy and the renown of his battles. As nothing that tends to elevate the soul is out of place in this volume, we may be permitted to insert one or two of these anecdotes. In 1806, Napoleon was at Potsdam. The Prussians were humbled to the dust, and the outrage of Rossbach had been fearfully avenged. A letter was intercepted, in which Prince Laatsfeld, civil governor of Berlin, secretly informed the enemy of all the dispositions of the French army. The crime was palpable, capital, and unpardonable. There was nothing between the life and death of the prince, except the time to load half a dozen muskets, point them to his breast, and cry--Fire. The princess flew to the palace, threw herself at the feet of the Emperor, beseeched, implored, and seemed almost heart-broken. "Madam," said Napoleon, "this letter is the only proof that exists of your husband's guilt. Throw it into the fire." The fatal paper blazed, crisped, passed from blue to yellow, and the treachery of Prince Laatsfeld was reduced to ashes. Another time, a young man, named Von der Sulhn, journeyed from Dresden to Paris; unless you are told, you could scarcely imagine for what purpose. There are people who travel for amusement, for business, for a change of air, or merely to be able to say they have been at such and such a place. Some go abroad for instruction, others, perhaps, with no other object in view than to eat frogs in Paris, bouillabaisse at Marseilles, a polenta at Milan, macaroni at Naples, an olla podrida in Spain, or conscoussou in Africa. Von der Sulhn travelled to assassinate the Emperor. Like Scævola and Brutus, he, no doubt, imagined the crime would hand down his name to posterity. In youth, all of us have erred in judgment more or less. Sulhn thought the Emperor ought to be slain. Unfortunately for him, the Duke of Rovigo, the then minister of police, entertained a different opinion. He thought, in point of fact, that the Emperor ought not to be killed: hence it was that the young Saxon found himself in chains, and that the Duke went to ask the Emperor what he should do with him. We ought, however, to mention that the young man, in his character of an enlightened German, testified his regret that he had not succeeded in carrying out his project, and protested that, in the event of regaining his liberty, he would renew the attempt. "Never mind," said the Emperor to the duke, "the young man's age is his excuse. Do not make the affair public, for, if it is bruited about, I must punish the headstrong youth, which I have no wish to do. I should be sorry to plunge a worthy family into grief by immolating such a scapegrace. Send him to Vincennes, give him some books to read, and write to his mother." In 1814, the young man obtained his liberty, his family, and his Germany, and it is to be hoped that he afterwards became a respectable pater-familias, a sort of Aulic councillor, and that, during the troublesome times in the land of Sauerkraut, he was before, and not behind, the barricades of his darling patria. If he be dead, it is to be supposed that, instead of lying a headless trunk ignominiously in a ditch, or in the unconsecrated cemetery of Clamort, he is reposing entire in the paternal tomb. On the 15th of March, 1815, the Emperor landed at Cannes--he had returned from the island of Elba. On the beach he was joined by one man, at Antibes by a company, at Digne by a battalion, at Gap by a regiment (that of Labedoyer), at Grenoble by an army. The hearts of the soldiers of France went to him like steel to the loadstone--first a drop, and then a torrent; the Empire, like a snowball, increased as it progressed. At Lyons, the Count of Artois, the setting sun, is obliged to go out of one gate the moment that Napoleon, the rising sun, comes in at another. Smiles, orations, triumphal arches, and even the discourses that had been prepared to welcome the Bourbons, were used to congratulate their successor on his return. Cockades and flags were altered to suit the occasion, by inserting a stripe of red here and another of blue there. One national guard, but only one, remained faithful to the Bourbons; he would neither alter his cockade nor his colors, and remained true to his patrons in the hour of disaster. Everybody asked, what would the Emperor do with him? Would he be imprisoned or banished? Neither; the Emperor sent him a cross of the order of merit! It is, no doubt, grand to have overthrown the brilliant army of Murad Bey in Egypt; to have vanquished Melas, Wurmser, and Davidowich in Italy; Bragation, Kutusoff, and Barclay de Tolly in Russia; Mack in Germany; and thus to have reduced the entire continent of Europe to subjection. But it appears to us that a still greater feat was the victory he gained over himself, when, in the midst of the fever excited by his return, and the animosity of parties, he gave this cross to the solitary adherent of misfortune. Having made these slight digressions into the future, it is proper that we should return to our story. The mysterious roads of Providence do not always lead to the places they seem to go; it often happens that, when we expect to be swallowed up by the breakers that surround us, we are wafted into a harbor, and that we encounter success where we only anticipated disappointment. The rigorous enactments of the continental system, that the other day had ruined the two brothers, became all at once the source of unlooked-for wealth; for, on account of the scarcity of colonial produce, a scarcity dating from the prohibitory laws promulgated in 1807, the merchandise of the young men had more than quadrupled in value. From the grade of hard-working mechanics they were suddenly promoted to the rank of wealthy merchants. They consequently abandoned the laborious employments that for a month had enabled them to live, and to keep despair and misery at bay. Willis, greatly to his inconvenience, found himself transformed into a gentleman at large, which caused him to make some material alterations in the manipulation and quality of his pipes. Fritz busied himself in collecting in, the by no means inconsiderable sums, which their property realised. He did not value the gold for its glitter or its sound, he valued it only as a means of enabling himself and his brother to return promptly to their ocean home. Jack undertook the task of finding a scalpel to save his mother--doubtless a difficult task; for how was he to induce a surgeon of standing to abandon his connexion, his family, and his fame, and to undertake a perilous voyage to the antipodes, for the purpose of performing an operation in a desert, where there were neither newspapers to proclaim it, academicians to discuss it, nor ribbons to reward it? As for the gentlemen of the dentist and barber school, like Drs. Sangrado and Fontanarose of Figaro, the remedy was even worse by a great deal than the disease. But, as we have said, Jack promised to find a surgeon, and the research was so arduous, that he was scarcely ever seen during the day by either Willis or his brother. To Willis was confided the office of chartering a ship for the homeward voyage, and there were not a few obstacles to overcome in order to accomplish this. French ship-masters at that time engaged in very little legitimate business; they embarked their capital in privateering, prefering to capture the merchantmen of England to risking their own. One morning, Willis started as usual in search of a ship, but soon returned to the inn where they had established their head-quarters in a state of bewilderment; he threw himself into a chair, and, before he could utter a word, had to fill his pipe and light it. "Well," said he, "I am completely and totally flabbergasted." "What about?" inquired the two brothers. "You could not guess, for the life of you, what has happened." "Perhaps not, Willis, and would therefore prefer you to tell us at once what it is." "After this," continued Willis, "no one need tell me that there are no miracles now-a-days." "Then you have stumbled upon a miracle, have you, Willis?" "I should think so. That they do not happen every day, I can admit; but I have a proof that they do come about sometimes." "Very probably, Willis." "It is my opinion that Providence often leads us about by the hands, just as little children are taken to school, lest they should be tempted to play truant by the way." "Not unlikely, Willis; but the miracle!" "I was going along quietly, not thinking I was being led anywhere in particular, when, all at once, I was hove up by--If a bullet had hit me right in the breast, I could not have been more staggered." "Whatever hove you up then, Willis?" "I was hove up by the sloop." "What sloop?" "The _Nelson_." "Was it taking a walk, Willis?" inquired Jack. "Have you been to sea since we saw you last?" asked Fritz. "If I had fallen in with the craft at sea, Master Fritz, I should not have been half so much astonished. The sea is the natural element of ships; we do not find gudgeons in corn fields, nor shoot hares on the ocean. But it was on land that I hailed the _Nelson_." "Was it going round the corner of a street that you stumbled upon it, Willis?" inquired Jack. "Not exactly; but to make a long story short--" "When you talk of cutting anything short, we are in for a yarn," said Jack. "And you are sure to interrupt him in the middle of it," said Fritz. "Well, in two words," said Willis, knocking the ashes out of his pipe, "I was cruising about the shipyards, looking if there was a condemned craft likely to suit us--some of them had gun-shot wounds in their timbers, others had been slewed up by a shoal--and, to cut the matter short--" "Another yarn," suggested Jack. "I luffed up beside the hull of a cutter-looking craft that had been completely gutted. But, changed and dilapidated as that hull is, I recognized it at once to be that of the _Nelson_. Now do you believe in miracles?" "But are you sure, Willis?" "Suppose you met Ernest or Frank in the street to-morrow, pale, meagre, and in rags, would you recognize them?" "Most assuredly." "Well, by the same token, sailors can always recognize a ship they have sailed in. They know the form of every plank and the line of every bend. There are hundreds of marks that get spliced in the memory, and are never forgotten. But in the present case there is no room for any doubt, a portion of the figure head is still extant, and the word _Nelson_ can be made out without spectacles." "But how did it get there?" "You know, Master Fritz, it could not have told me, even if I had taken the trouble to inquire." "Very true, Willis." "I was determined, however, to find it out some other way, so I steered for a café near the harbor, where the pilots and long-shore captains go to play at dominoes. I was in hopes of picking up some stray waif of information, and, sooth to say, I was not altogether disappointed." "Another meeting, I'll be bound," said Jack. "My falling in with the _Nelson_ astonished you, did it not?" "Rather." "Then I'll bet my best pipe that this one will surprise you still more. You recollect my comrade, Bill, _alias_ Bob, of the _Hoboken_?" "Yes, perfectly." "Then I met him." "What! the man who had both his legs shot off, and died in consequence of his wounds?" inquired Jack. "The same." "And that was afterwards thrown overboard with a twenty-four pound shot tied to his feet!" exclaimed Fritz. "The same." At this astonishing assertion the young men regarded Willis with an air of apprehension. "You think I am mad, no doubt, do you not?" "Whatever can we think, Willis?" "I admit that my statement looks very like it at first sight, but still you are wrong, as you will see by-and-by. I could scarcely believe my eyes when I saw him. 'Is that you, Bill Stubbs,' says I, 'at last?' "'Lor love ye!' says he, 'is that you, Pilot?' "He then took hold of my hand, and gave it such a shake as almost wrenched it off. "'Where in all the earth did you hail from?' he said. 'I thought you were dead and gone?' "'And I thought you were the same,' said I, 'and no mistake.' "'Alive and hearty though, as you see, Pilot; only a little at sea amongst the _mounseers_.' "'But what about the _Hoboken_?' says I. "'What _Hoboken_?' says he. "'Were you not aboard a Yankee cruiser some months back?' "'Never was aboard a Yankee in all my life,' says Bill. "And no more he was, for he never left the _Nelson_ till she was high and dry in Havre dockyard; so, the short and the long of it is, that I must have been wrong in that instance." "So I should think," remarked Fritz. "Yet the resemblance was very remarkable; the only difference was a carbuncle on the nose, which the real Bill has and the other has not, but which I had forgotten." "Like Cicero," remarked Jack. "Another Admiral?" inquired Willis, drily. "No, he was only an orator." "Bill soon satisfied me that he was the very identical William Stubbs, and that the other was only a very good imitation." "He did not receive you with a punch in the ribs, at all events, like the apocryphal Bill," remarked Jack. "No; but what is more to the purpose, he told me that, after having struggled with the terrible tempest off New Switzerland--which you recollect--the _Nelson_ found herself at such a distance, that Captain Littlestone resolved to proceed on his voyage, and to return again as speedily as possible. "'We arrived at the Cape all right,' added Bill, 'landed the New Switzerland cargo, and sailed again with the Rev. Mr. Wolston on board. A few days after leaving the Cape, we were pounced upon by a French frigate; the _Nelson_, with its crew, was sent off as a prize to Havre, and here I have been ever since,' said Bill, 'a prisoner at large, allowed to pick up a living as I can amongst the shipping.'" "And the remainder of the crew?" inquired Fritz. "Are all here prisoners of war." "And the Rev. Mr. Wolston and the captain?" "Are prisoners on parole." "Where?" "Here." "What! in Havre?" "Yes, close at hand, in the Hotel d'Espagne." "And we sitting here," cried Jack, snatching up his hat and rushing down stairs four steps at a time. Willis and Fritz followed as fast as they could. When they all three reached the bottom of the stairs. "If Captain Littlestone is here, Willis," said Jack, "he could not have been on board the _Boudeuse_." "That is true, Master Jack." "In that case, Great Rono, you must have been dreaming in the corvette as well as in the Yankee." "No," insisted Willis, "it was no dream, I am certain of that." "Explain the riddle, then." "I cannot do that just at present, but it may be cleared up by-and-by, like all the mysteries and miracles that surround us." FOOTNOTES: [I] This circumstance is historical, and will be found at length in the Memoirs of Napoleon, by Amédée Goubard. CHAPTER XXVII. CAPTAIN LITTLESTONE IS FOUND, AND THE REV. MR. WOLSTON IS SEEN FOR THE FIRST TIME. Jack, on arriving at the hotel, ascertained the number of the room in which Captain Littlestone was located. In his hurry to see his old friend, the young man did not stop to knock at the door, but entered without ceremony, with Fritz and Willis at his heels. They found themselves in the presence of two gentlemen, one of whom sat with his face buried in his hands, the other was reading what appeared to be a small bible. The latter was a young man seemingly of about twenty-four or twenty-five years of age. He had a mild but noble bearing, and his aspect denoted habitual meditation. His eyes were remarkably piercing and expressive; in short, he was one of those men at whom we are led involuntarily to cast a glance of respect, without very well knowing why; perhaps it might be owing to the gravity of his demeanour, perhaps to the peculiar decorum of his deportment, or perhaps to the scrupulous propriety of his dress. He raised his eyes from the book he held in his hand, and gazed tranquilly at the three figures who had so abruptly interrupted his reveries. "May I inquire," said he, "to what we owe this intrusion on our privacy, gentlemen?" "We have to apologise for our rudeness," said Fritz; "but are you not the Rev. Mr. Wolston?" "My name is Charles Wolston, and I am a minister of the gospel, and missionary of the church." "Then, sir," continued Fritz, "I am the bearer of a message from your father." "From my father!" exclaimed the missionary, starting up; "you come then from the Pacific Ocean?" [Illustration] Here the second gentleman raised his head, and looked as if he had just awakened from a dream. He gazed at the speakers with a puzzled air. "Do you know me, captain?" said Willis. Littlestone, for it was he, continued to gaze in mute astonishment, as if the events of the past had been defiling through his memory; and he probably thought that the figures before him were mere phantom creations of his brain. "Willis! can it be possible?" he exclaimed, taking at the same time the Pilot's proffered hand. "Yes, captain, as you see." "And the two young Beckers, as I live!" cried Littlestone. "Yes," said Jack, "and delighted to find you at last." Littlestone then shook them all heartily by the hand. "It is but a poor welcome that I, a prisoner in the enemy's country, can give you to Europe; still I am truly overjoyed to see you. But where have you all come from?" "From New Switzerland," replied Jack. "But how?" "By sea." "That, of course; and I presume another ship anchored in Safety Bay?" "No, captain. Seeing you did not return to us, we embarked in the pinnace and came in search of you." "Your pinnace was but indifferently calculated to weather a gale, keeping out of view the other dangers incidental to such a voyage." "True, captain; but my brother and I, with Willis for a pilot and Providence for a guardian, ventured to brave these perils; and here we are, as you see." "And your mother consented to such a dangerous proceeding, did she?" "It was for her, and yet against her will, that we embarked on the voyage." "I do not understand." "For her, because, when we left, she was dying." "Dying, say you?" "Yes, and our object in coming to Europe was chiefly to obtain surgical aid." "And have you found a surgeon?" "Not yet, but we are in hopes of finding one." "If money is wanted, besides the value of the cargo I landed for you at the Cape, you may command my purse." "A thousand thanks, captain, but the merchandise we have here is likely to be sufficient for our purpose. Unfortunately, gold is not the only thing that is requisite." "What, then?" "In the first place, a disinterested love of humanity is needful; there are few men of science and skill who would not risk more than they would gain by accepting any offer we can make. It is not easy to find the heart of a son in the body of a physician." "What, then, will you do, my poor friend?" "That is my secret, captain." During this conversation, the missionary had put a thousand questions to Willis and Fritz relative to his father, mother, and sisters, and a smile now and then lit up his features as Fritz related some of the family mishaps. "You must have undergone some hardships in your voyage from the antipodes to Havre de Grace," said Littlestone to Jack, "notwithstanding the skill of my friend the Pilot." "Yes, captain, a few," replied Jack. "I myself made a narrow escape from being killed and eaten by a couple of savages." "And how did you escape?" "Providence interfered at the critical moment." "Well, so I should imagine." "Our friend the Pilot was more fortunate; he was abducted by the natives of Hawaii; but, instead of converting him into mincemeat, they transformed him into a divinity, bore him along in triumph to a temple, where he was perfumed with incense, and had sacrifices offered up to him." "Willis must have felt himself highly honored," said the captain, smiling. "These fine things did not, however, last long, for next day they were wound up with a cloud of arrows." "And another interposition of Providence?" "Yes, none of the arrows were winged with death." "After that," remarked Willis, "we fell in with a Yankee cruiser, were taken on board, and carried into the latitude of the Bahamas, where we fell in with Old Flyblow, who, after a tough set-to, sent the Yankee a prize to Bermuda, and took us on board as passengers." "And," added Jack, "whilst we were under protection of the American flag, Willis fell in with a certain Bill Stubbs, who was shot in the fight and died of his wounds. This trifling accident did not, however, prevent Willis falling in with him alive in Havre." "You still seem to delight in paradoxes, Master Jack," said the captain. "The English cruiser," continued Jack, "was afterwards captured by a French corvette, on which it appears you were on board _incognito_." "What! I on board?" "Yes; ask Willis." "If you were not, captain, how could you come to my cabin every night and ask me questions?" inquired the latter. At this point, a shade of anxiety crossed Littlestone's features; he turned and looked at the missionary--the missionary looked at Fritz--Fritz stared at his brother--Jack gazed at Willis--and Willis, with a puzzled air, regarded everybody in turn. "At last," continued Jack, "after experiencing a variety of both good and bad fortune, sometimes vanquished and sometimes the victors, first wounded, then cured, we arrived here in Havre, where, for a time, we were plunged into the deepest poverty; we were blacksmiths and carpenters by turns, and thought ourselves fortunate when we had a chair to mend or a horse to shoe." "The workings of Providence," said the missionary, "are very mysterious, and, perhaps, you will allow me to illustrate this fact by drawing a comparison. A ship is at the mercy of the waves; it sways, like a drunken man, sometimes one way and sometimes another. All on board are in commotion, some are hurrying down the hatchways, and others are hurrying up. The sailors are twisting the sails about in every possible direction. Some of the men are closing up the port-holes, others are working at the pumps. The officers are issuing a multiplicity of orders at once, the boatswain is constantly sounding his whistle. There is no appearance of order, confusion seems to reign triumphant, and there is every reason to believe that the commands are issued at random." "I have often wondered," said Jack, "how so many directions issued on ship board in a gale at one and the same moment could possibly be obeyed." "Let us descend, however, to the captain's cabin," continued the missionary. "He is alone, collected, thoughtful, and tranquil, his eye fixed upon a chart. Now he observes the position of the sun, and marks the meridian; then he examines the compass, and notes the polary deviation. On all sides are sextants, quadrants, and chronometers. He quietly issues an order, which is echoed and repeated above, and thus augments the babel on deck." "A single order," remarked Willis, "often gives rise to changes in twenty different directions." "On deck," continued the missionary, "the crew appear completely disorganized. In the captain's cabin, you find that all this apparent confusion is the result of calculation, and is essential to the safety of the ship." "Still," said Jack, "it is difficult to see how this result is effected by disorder." "True; and, therefore, we must rely upon the skill of the captain; we behold nothing but uproar, but we know that all is governed by the most perfect discipline. So it is with the world; society is a ship, men and their passions are the mast, sails, rigging, the anchors, quadrants, and sextants of Providence. We understand nothing of the combined action of these instruments; we tremble at every shock, and fear that every whirlwind is destined to sweep us away. But let us penetrate into the chamber of the Great Ruler. He issues his commands tranquilly; we see that He is watching over our safety; and whatever happens, our hearts beat with confidence, and our minds are at rest." "Therefore," added Littlestone, "we are resigned to our fate as prisoners of war; but still we hope." "And not without good reason," said Willis; "for it will go hard with me if I do not realize your hopes, and that very shortly too." "I do not see very well how our hopes of liberty can be realized till peace is proclaimed." "Peace!" exclaimed Willis. "Yes, in another twenty years or so, perhaps; to wail for such an unlikely event will never do; my young friend, Master Jack Becker, is in a hurry, and we must all leave this place within a month at latest." "You mean us, then, to make our escape, Willis; but that is impossible." "I have an idea that it is not impossible, captain; the cargo Masters Fritz and Jack have here will realize a large sum; the pearls, saffron, and cochineal, are bringing their weight in gold. I shall be able to charter or buy a ship with the proceeds, and some dark night we shall all embark; and if a surgeon is not willing to come of his own accord, I shall press the best one in the place: it won't be the first time I have done such a thing, with much less excuse." "One will be willing," said Jack; "so you need not introduce One-eyed Dick's schooner here, Willis." "So far so good, then; it only remains for us to smuggle the captain, the missionary, and the crew of the _Nelson_ on board." "But we are prisoners," said Littlestone. "I know that well enough; if you were not prisoners, of course there would be no difficulty." "Recollect, Willis, we are not only prisoners, but we are on parole." "True," said Willis, scratching his ear, "I did not think of that." "The situation," remarked Jack, "is something like that of Louis XIV. at the famous passage of the Rhine, of whom Boileau said: 'His grandeur tied him to the banks.' Had you been only a common sailor, captain, a parole would not have stood in the way of your escape." "But," said Willis, "the parole can be given up, can it not?" "Not without a reasonable excuse," replied the captain. "Well," continued Willis, "you can go with the minister to the Maritime Prefect, and say: 'Sir, you know that everyone's country is dear to one's heart, and you will not be astonished to hear that myself and friend have an ardent desire to return to ours. This desire on our part is so great, that some day we may be tempted to fly, and, consequently, forfeit our honor; for, after all, there are only a few miles of sea between us and our homes. We ought not to trust to our strength when we know we are weak. Do us, therefore, the favor to withdraw our parole; we prefer to take up our abode in a prison, so that, if we can escape, we may do so with our honor intact." "And suppose this favor granted, we shall be securely shut up in a dungeon. I scarcely think that would alter our position for the better, or render our escape practicable." "You will, at all events, be free to try, will you not?" "That is a self-evident proposition, Willis, and, so far as that goes, I have no objection to adopt the alternative of prison fare. What say you, minister?" "As for myself," replied the missionary, "a little additional hardship may do me good, for the Scriptures say: Suffering purifieth the soul." "We shall, therefore, resign our paroles, Willis; but bear in mind that it is much easier to get into prison than to get out." "Leave the getting out to me, captain; where there's a will there's always a way." "Do you think," whispered the captain to Fritz, "that Willis is all right in his upper story?" Fritz shook his head, which, in the ordinary acceptation of the sign, means, I really do not know. CHAPTER XXVIII. WILLIS PROVES THAT THE ONLY WAY TO BE FREE IS TO GET SENT TO PRISON--AN ESCAPE--A DISCOVERY--PROMOTIONS--SOMNAMBULISM. Three weeks after the events narrated in the foregoing chapter, the thrice-rescued produce of Oceania had been converted into the current coin of the empire. The greater portion of the proceeds was placed at the disposal of Willis, to facilitate him in procuring the means of returning to New Switzerland. He--like connoisseurs who buy up seemingly worthless pictures, because they have detected, or fancy they have detected, some masterly touches rarely found on modern canvas--had bought, not a ship, but the remains of what had once been one. This he obtained for almost nothing, but he knew the value of his purchase. The carcass was refitted under his own eye, and, when it left the ship-yard, looked as if it had been launched for the first time. The timbers were old; but the cabins and all the internal fittings were new; a few sheets of copper and the paint-brush accomplished the rest. When the mast was fitted in, and the new sails bent, the little sloop looked as jaunty as a nautilus, and, according to Willis himself, was the smartest little craft that ever hoisted a union-jack. Whether the captain and the missionary still entertained the belief that the Pilot's wits had gone a wool-gathering or not, certain it is that they had followed his instructions, in so far as to relinquish their parole, and thus to lose their personal liberty. They were both securely locked up in one of the rooms or cells of the old palace or castle of Francois I., which was then, and perhaps is still, used as the state prison of Havre de Grace. This fortalice chiefly consists of a battlemented round tower, supported by strong bastions, and pierced, here and there, by small windows, strongly barred. The foot of the tower is bathed by the sea, which, as Willis afterwards remarked, was not only a favor granted to the tower, but likewise an obligation conferred upon themselves. When the Pilot's purchase had been completely refitted, stores shipped, papers obtained, and every requisite made for the outward voyage, the departure of the three adventurers was announced, and a crowd assembled on shore to see their ship leave the harbor. She was towed out to the roads, where she lay tranquilly mirrored in the sea, ready to start the moment her commander stepped on board. Neither Fritz nor Jack, however, had yet completed their preparations. For the moment, therefore, the vessel was left in charge of some French seamen, whom Willis, however, had taken care to engage only for a short period. Somewhere about a week after this, Fritz and Jack, in a small boat, painted perfectly black and manned by four stout rowers, with muffled oars, were lurking about the fortalice already mentioned. The night was pitch dark, and there was no moon. The waves beat sullenly on the foot of the tower and surged back upon themselves, like an enraged enemy making an abortive attempt to storm the walls of a town. Not a word was uttered, and the young men were intently listening, as if expecting to hear some preconcerted signal. Meanwhile, in one of the rooms or cells of the round tower, about sixty feet above the level of the sea, Captain Littlestone, the missionary, and the Pilot were engaged in a whispered conversation, through which might be detected the dull sound of an oiled file working against iron. The cell was ample in size, but the stone walls were without covering of any kind. It was lighted during the day by one of the apertures we have already described; the thickness of the walls did not permit the rays of the sun to penetrate to the interior, and at the time of which we speak the apartment was perfectly dark. "I should like to see the warder," whispered Willis, "when he comes, with his bundle of keys and his night-cap in his hand, to wish your honors good morning, but, in point of fact, to see whether your honors are in safe custody. How astonished the old rascal will be! Ho, ho, ho!" "My good fellow," said the missionary, "it is scarcely time to laugh yet. It is just possible we may escape; but vain boasting is in no case deserving of approbation. It is, indeed, scarcely consistent with the dignity of my cloth to be engaged in breaking out of a prison; still, I am a man of peace, and not a man of war." "No," said Willis, "you are not; but I wish to goodness you were a seventy-four--under the right colors, of course." "I was going to remark," continued the missionary, "that I am a man of peace, and, consequently, do not think that I am justly entitled to be treated as a prisoner of war. Under these circumstances, I am, no doubt, justified in shaking off my bonds in any way that is open to me; the more particularly as the apostle Paul was once rescued from bondage in a similar way." "He was let down from a window in a basket, was he not?" "Yes; whilst journeying in the city of Damascus, the governor, whose name was Avetas resolved to arrest him and accordingly placed sentries at all the gates. Paul, however was permitted to pass through a house, the windows of which overhung the walls of the town, whence, as you say, he was let down in a basket, and escaped."[J] "I trust your reverence will be in much the same position as the apostle, by-and-by--only you will have to dispense with the basket," said Willis. "I have no wish to remain in bondage longer than is absolutely necessary," said the minister; "but there still seem difficulties in the way." "Yes," said Willis, plying the file with redoubled energy, "this iron gives me more bother than I anticipated; but it is the nature of iron to be hard; however, it will not be long before we are all out of bondage, as your reverence calls it." "May not the warder discover our escape, and raise an alarm in time to retake us?" inquired the missionary. "No, I think not," replied the captain; "thanks to our habit of sleeping with our faces to the wall, he will be deceived by the dummies we have placed in the beds, for he always approaches on tip-toe not to awake us." "That may be for the first round; but the second will assuredly disclose our absence." "Very likely," remarked Willis; "he will then go right up to the beds, and shake the dummies by the shoulders, and say, Does your honor not know that it is ten o'clock, and that your breakfast is cooling? The dummies will, of course, not condescend to reply, and then--but what matters? By that time we shall have shaken out our top-sail, and pursuit will be out of the question. I should like to see the craft that will overtake us when once we are a couple of miles ahead." "Poor man!" said the missionary, sighing; "our escape may, perhaps, cost him his place." "No fear of that," said Willis; "perhaps, at first, he will make an attempt to tear his hair, but, as he wears a wig, that will not do much mischief." "I shall, however, leave my purse on the table," said the missionary; "as it is tolerably well filled, that may afford the poor fellow some consolation." "And I shall do the same," said the captain. "If that does not console him for being deprived of the pleasure of our society, I do not know what will," observed Willis. "It is now two o'clock," said the captain, feeling his watch, "and the warder goes his first rounds at three; we have therefore just one hour for our preparations." "I have severed one bar," said Willis, "and the other is nearly through at one end, so keep your minds perfectly at ease." "Your patience and equanimity, Willis, does you infinite credit," said the missionary. "Minister of the Gospel though I be, I fear that I do not possess these qualities to the same extent, for, to confess the truth, I feel an inward yearning to be free, and yet am restless and anxious." "There is no great use in being in a hurry," said the Pilot; "the more haste the less speed, you know." "True; but might not these bars have been sawn through before? If this had been done, our flight would have been, at least, less precipitate." "You forget, Mr. Wolston," said the captain, "that we did not know till nine o'clock the affair was to come off to-night." "And I could not come any sooner to tell you," remarked the Pilot; "I had the greatest difficulty in the world to get in here; the maritime commissary would not take me into custody." "I forgot to ask you how you contrived to get incarcerated," observed the captain; "you were not a prisoner, and could not plead your parole." "No; and consequently I had to plead something else." "Willis," said the missionary, "the work you are engaged in must be very fatiguing, let me exercise my strength upon the bars for a short time." "If you like, minister, but keep the file well oiled." "What, motive, then, did you urge, Willis?" inquired Captain Littlestone. "'Mr. Commissary,' said I, 'one of your frigates captured the English cutter _Nelson_ some time ago, but the capture was not complete.' "'How so?' inquired the commissary. "'Because, Mr. Commissary,' said I, 'you did not capture the boatswain, and a British ship without a boatswain is no good; it is like a body without a soul.' "'Is that all you have to tell me?' said the commissary, looking glum. "'No,' said I, 'to make the capture complete, you have still to arrest the boatswain, and here he is standing before you--I am the man; but having been detained by family affairs in the Pacific Ocean, I could not surrender myself any sooner.' "'And what do you want me to do with you?' said he. "'Why, what you would have done with me had I been on board the _Nelson_, to be sure.' "'What! take you prisoner?' "'Yes, commissary.' "'You wish me to do so?' "'Yes, certainly,' "'Is it possible?' "'Then you refuse to take me into custody, Mr. Commissary?' said I. "'Yes, positively,' said he; 'we take prisoners, but we do not accept them when offered.' "'Then you will not allow me to join my captain in his adversity?' "'Your captain is as great a fool as yourself,' said he; 'he need not have gone to prison unless he liked.' "'That was a matter of taste on his part, Mr. Commissary, but is a matter of duty on mine,'" "This bar is nearly through," whispered the missionary. "There is no time to be lost," said the captain; "the warder will be round in a quarter of an hour." "Well," continued Willis, "the commissary began to get angry, he rose up, and was about to leave the room, when I placed myself resolutely before him. "'Sir,' said I, 'one word more--you know the French laws; be good enough to tell me what crime will most surely and most promptly send me to prison.' "'Oh, there are plenty of them,' said he, laughing. "'Well, commissary,' says I, 'suppose I knock you down here on the spot, will that do?" "Was that not going a little too far, Willis?" "What could I do? The ship was all ready, everybody on board but yourselves, circumstances were pressing, and you know I would have floored him as gently as possible." At this moment the bar yielded. To the end of a piece of twine, which Willis had rolled round his body, a piece of stone was attached; this he let down till it touched the water, and then the caw of a crow rang through the air. "That was a very good imitation, Willis," said the captain. "You did not break any of the commissary's bones, did you?" "No; the threat was quite sufficient; he would not yield to my prayers, but he yielded to my impudence, and ordered me into custody. At first, however, I was thrust into an underground cell; but I obtained, or rather my louis obtained for me, permission to chum with you; and, by the way, what a frightful staircase I had to mount! that more than any thing else, obliges us to get down by the window." [Illustration] Willis, who continued to hold one end of the cord, at the sound of a whistle drew it up, and found attached to the other end a stout rope ladder. This he made fast to the bars of the window that still remained intact. At the request of the minister, all three then fell upon their knees and uttered a short prayer. Immediately after, Wolston went out of the window and began to descend, the captain followed, and Willis brought up the rear. All three were cautiously progressing downwards, when the missionary called out he had forgotten to _forget_ his purse. "I have made the same omission," said the captain; "hand yours up, Wolston." The missionary accordingly held up his with one hand whilst he held on the ladder with the other. The captain bent down to take it, but found he could not reach it without endangering his equilibrium. They both made some desperate efforts to accomplish the feat, but the thing was impossible. "I see no help for it," said the missionary, "but to ascend all three again." "That is awkward," said the captain. "Gentlemen," said Willis, "three o'clock is striking on the prison clock; the warder will be round in two minutes." "God sometimes permits good actions to go _unrewarded_," said the missionary; "but he never _punishes_ them." "Let us re-ascend, then," said the captain. "So be it," said Willis, going upwards. They had scarcely time to re-enter the cell before they heard the sound of steps and the clank of keys in the corridor. The steps discontinued at their door, and a key was thrust into the lock. "What is the matter?" cried the captain from his bed, as the gaoler thrust his head inside the door. "Why," said the warder, "I heard a noise, and thought that your honor might be ill." "Thank you for your attention, Ambroise," replied the captain, in a half sleepy tone; "but you have been deceived, we are all quite well." "Entirely so," added the missionary. "All right old fellow!" cried Willis, with a yawn. This triple affirmation, which assured him, not only of the health, but also of the custody of his prisoners, seemed satisfactory to the gaoler. "I am sorry to have awoke your honors," said he, as he withdrew his head and relocked the door; "it must have been in the room overhead." "Good?" said Willis, "the old rascal expects nothing." Two well-lined purses were laid on the table, and in a few minutes more the three men resumed their position on the ladder in the same order as before. They arrived safely in the boat, where they were cordially welcomed by Fritz and Jack. The men were then ordered to pull for their lives to the ship, which they did with a hearty will. The instant they stepped on board the anchor was weighed, and when morning broke not a vestige of the old tower of Havre de Grace was anywhere to be seen. "Why," exclaimed the captain, looking about him with an air of astonishment, "this is my own vessel!" "Yes, captain," said Willis, touching his cap, "and I am its boatswain or pilot, whichever your honor chooses to call me." "But how did you obtain possession of her?" "By right of purchase she belongs to our friends, Masters Fritz and Jack, but they have agreed to waive their claim, providing you proceed with them to New Switzerland." "I agree most willingly to these conditions," said Captain Littlestone, addressing the two brothers, "the more so that my destination was Sydney when the _Nelson_ was captured." "In the meantime, captain," said Fritz, "my brother and I have to request that you will resume the command, and treat us as passengers." "Thank you, my friends, thank you. Willis, are all the old crew on board?" "All that were in Havre, your honor; I commissioned Bill Stubbs to pick them up, and he managed to smuggle them all on board." "Then pipe all hands on deck." "Aye, aye, captain," said Willis, sounding his whistle. When the men were mustered, Littlestone made a short speech to them, told them that they would receive pay for the time they had been in the enemy's power, and inquired whether they were all willing to continue the voyage under his command. This question was responded to by a general assent. "Then," he continued, turning to Willis, "the share you have had in the rescue of the _Nelson_ and its crew, conjointly with my interest at the Admiralty, will, I have not the slightest doubt, obtain for you the well-merited rank of lieutenant of his Majesty's navy. I have, therefore, to request that you will assume that position on board during the voyage, until confirmed by the arrival of your commission." "Thank your honor," said Willis, bowing. "And now, lieutenant, you will be kind enough to rate William Stubbs on the books as boatswain." "Aye, aye, captain," said Willis, handing his whistle to Bill. "Pipe to breakfast," said the captain. "Aye, aye, sir," replied the new boatswain, sounding the whistle. "By the way," said Littlestone, turning to Jack, "I do not see the surgeon you spoke of on board. How is this?" "He is on board for all that," said Jack, drawing an official looking document out of his pocket; "be kind enough to read that." The captain accordingly read as follows:-- "_Havre, 15th October, 1812._ "This is to certify that Mr. Jack Becker has, for some time, been a student in the hospitals of this town, and that he has successfully passed through a stringent examination as to his acquaintance with the diagnosis and cure of various diseases; as also as to his knowledge of the practice of physic and surgery generally. "He has specially directed his attention to the treatment of cancer, and has performed several operations for the eradication of that malady to the satisfaction of the surgeon in chief and my own. (Signed) "GARAY DE NEVRES, M.D., Inspector of the Hospitals". This document was countersigned, sealed, and stamped by the mayor, the prefect, and other authorities of the department. "How have you contrived to obtain so satisfactory a certificate in so short a period?" inquired the captain. "I was introduced to the chief surgeon by the medical man on board the _Boudeuse_. I stated my position to him, and, probably, he threw facilities in my way of obtaining the object I had in view that were, perhaps, rarely accorded to others. All the cases of cancer, for example, were placed under my care; I had, therefore, an opportunity of observing a great many phases and varieties of that disease." "Are you determined to follow up the profession of surgery, then?" "Yes, captain; I have shipped a medicine chest on board, a complete assortment of instruments, and a collection of English, French, and German medical works. It is my intention to make myself thoroughly familiar with the theory of the science, and trust to chance for practice." "Then allow me, Mr. Becker, to rate you as surgeon of the _Nelson_ for the outward voyage. Will you accept the office?" "With pleasure, Captain; but, at the same time, I trust there will be no occasion to exercise my skill." "No one can say what may happen; disease turns up where it is least expected. Lieutenant," he added, turning to Willis, "be kind enough to rate Mr. Becker on the ship's books as surgeon." "Aye, Aye, sir." Meantime the _Nelson_ was making her way rapidly along the French coast, and had already crossed the Bay of Biscay. The _Nelson_ behaved herself admirably, and took to her new gear with excellent grace. All was going merrily as a marriage bell. They did not now run very much risk of cruisers, as Fritz had French papers perfectly _en regle_, and Captain Littlestone would have had little difficulty to prove his identity; besides, the speed of the _Nelson_ was sufficient to secure their safety in cases where danger was to be apprehended. One night, about four bells (ten o'clock), when Willis was lazily lolling in his hammock, doubtless ruminating on his newly-acquired dignity, his cabin-door gradually opened, and the captain entered. Willis stared at first, thinking he might have something important to communicate, but he only muttered something about a cloud gathering in the west. This was too much for Willis; it resembled his former meditations so vividly, that he leaped out of his hammock, seized Littlestone by the collar, and called loudly for Fritz and Jack. "It is not very respectfull, captain, to handle you in this way; but the case is urgent, and I should like to have the mystery cleared up." The two brothers, when they entered the cabin, beheld Willis holding the captain tightly in his arms. "I have caught him at last, you see," said the Pilot. "So it would appear," observed Jack; "but are you not aware the captain is asleep?" And so it was Littlestone had walked from his own cabin to that of Willis in a state of somnambulism. "What is the matter?" inquired the latter, when he became conscious of his position. "Nothing is the matter, captain," replied Jack, "only you have been walking in your sleep." "Ah--yes--it must be so!" exclaimed Littlestone; gazing about him with a troubled air. "Have I not paid you a visit of this kind before, Willis?" "Yes, often." "Where?" "On board the _Boudeuse_." "That must have been the craft I was transferred to, then, after the capture of the _Nelson_. Just call Mr. Wolston, and let us have the matter explained." On comparing notes, it appeared that the captain and the missionary had been on board the _Boudeuse_. Both had been ill, and both had been closely confined to their cabin during the entire voyage, partly on account of their being prisoners of war, and partly on account of their illness. On one occasion, but on one only, the captain had escaped from his cabin during the night. Willis might, therefore, have seen him once, but that he had seen him oftener was only a dream. "It appears, then," said Littlestone, "that my illness has left this unfortunate tendency to sleep-walking. I shall, therefore, place myself in your hands, Master Jack; perhaps you may be able to chase it away." "I will do my best, captain; and I think I may venture to promise a cure." Willis was sorry for the captain's sleeplessness, but he was glad that the mystery hanging over them both had been so far cleared up. His visions and dreams had been a source of constant annoyance to him; but now that their origin had been discovered, he felt that henceforward he might sleep in peace. After a rapid run, the sloop cast anchor off the Cape. Here Captain Littlestone reported himself to the commander on the station, and received fresh papers. He also sent off a despatch to the Lords of the Admiralty, in which he reported the capture and rescue of his ship. He informed them that his own escape and that of the crew was entirely owing to the tact and daring of Willis, the boatswain, whom, in consequence, he had nominated his second in command, _vice_ Lieutenant Dunsford, deceased; the appointment subject, of course, to their lordship's approval. Willis wrote a long letter to his wife, informing her of his expected promotion, adding that, in a year or so after the receipt of his commission, he should retire on half-pay, and then emigrate to a delightful country, where he had been promised a vast estate. He said that, probably, he should have an entire island to himself, and possibly have the command of the fleet; but he thought it as well to say nothing about tigers, sharks, and chimpanzees. The missionary also wrote to England, relinquishing his charge in South Africa, and requesting a mission amongst the benighted inhabitants of the Pacific Ocean, where he stated he was desirous of settling for family reasons, and where besides, he said, he would have a wider and equally interesting field for his labors. The two brothers found at the Cape a large sum of money at their disposal; this, however, they had now no immediate use for; they, consequently, left it to await the arrival of Frank and Ernest, who, in all probability, would return with the _Nelson_. The arrangements made, the _Nelson_ was fully armed and manned, an ample supply of stores and ammunition was shipped, the mails in Sydney were taken on board, and the sloop resumed her voyage. FOOTNOTES: [J] 2nd Cor., xi., 32. CONCLUSION. Three months after leaving the Cape, the coast of New Switzerland was telegraphed from the mast head by Bill Stubbs. A gun was immediately fired, and towards evening the _Nelson_ entered Safety Bay. Fritz, Jack, Captain Littlestone, the missionary, and Willis, were all standing on deck, eagerly scanning the shore. "There is father!" cried Jack, "armed with a telescope; and now I see Frank and Mrs. Wolston." "There comes Mr. Wolston and Master Ernest," cried Willis, "as usual, a little behind." "But I see nothing of my mother and the young ladies!" said Fritz. "Very odd," said Captain Littlestone, sweeping the horizon with his glass "I can see nothing of them either." A horrible apprehension here glided into the hearts of the young men. They knew well that, had their mother been able, she would have been the first to welcome them home. Perhaps, under the inspiration of despair, their lips were opening to deny the mercy of that Providence which had hitherto so remarkably befriended them, when at a great distance, and scarcely perceptible to the naked eye, they descried three figures advancing slowly towards the shore. One of these forms was Mrs. Becker, who was leaning upon the arms of Mary and Sophia Wolston. "God be thanked, we are still in time," cried Fritz and Jack. A loud cheer, led by Willis, then rent the air. Half an hour after, the two young men leaped on shore; they did not stay to shake hands with their father and brothers, but ran on to where their mother stood. It was a long time before they could utter a syllable; the greeting of the mother and her children was too affectionate to be expressed in words. Next morning, at daybreak, preparations for a serious operation were made in Mrs. Becker's room. The entire colony was in a state of intense excitement, and an air of anxiety was imprinted on every countenance. In the room itself the wing of a fly could have been heard, so breathless was the silence that prevailed. The patient's eyes had been bandaged, under pretext of concealing from her sight the surgical instruments and preparations for the operation. The real design, however, was to hide the operator, whom Mrs. Becker supposed to be an expert practitioner from Europe; for it was not thought advisable that a mother's anxieties should be superadded to the patient's sufferings. At the moment of trial the few persons present had sunk on their knees; Jack alone remained standing at the bedside of his mother. The Jack of the past had entirely disappeared; he was somewhat pale, very grave, but collected, firm, and resolute. It was, perhaps, the first instance on record of a son being called upon to lacerate the body of his mother. But the moment that God imposed such a task upon one of His creatures, it is God himself that becomes the operator. When, some days after, Mrs. Becker--calm, radiant, and saved--requested to see and thank her deliverer, it was Jack who presented himself. If she had known this sooner, it would, most undoubtedly, have augmented her terror, and increased the fever. As it was, it redoubled her thankfulness, and hastened her recovery. Frank and Ernest embarked on board the _Nelson_ when she returned to New Switzerland on her way to Europe. Two years afterwards, the former returned in the capacity of a minister of the Church of England, bringing with him a sufficient number of men, women, and children to furnish a respectable congregation; and it was rumored, though with what degree of truth I will not venture to say, that one of the young lady passengers in the ship was his destined bride. Ernest remained some years in Europe, partly to consolidate relations between the colony and the mother country, and partly with a view to realize his pet project of establishing an observatory in New Switzerland. Willis, instead of being suspended at the yard-arm as he had insisted on prognosticating, received his lieutenancy in due course, accompanied by a highly flattering letter from the Lords of the Admiralty, thanking him, in the name of the captain and crew of the _Nelson_, for his exertions in their behalf. As soon, however, as peace was proclaimed, he retired on half-pay, and, with his wife and daughter, emigrated to Oceania. He assumed his old post of admiral on Shark's Island, where a commodious house had been erected. We must premise, at the same time, that to his honorary duties as admiral, conjoined the humbler, but not less useful, offices of lighthouse keeper, manager of the fisheries, and harbor-master. As a country grows rich, and advances in prosperity, it rarely, if ever, happens that the sum of human life becomes happier or better. It is, therefore, not without regret we learn that gold has been discovered in a land so highly favored by nature in other respects; for, if such be the case, then adieu to the peace and tranquillity its inhabitants have hitherto enjoyed. The colony will soon be overrun with Chinamen, American adventurers, and ticket-of-leave convicts. Farewell to the kindliness and hospitality of the community, for they will inevitably be deluged with the refuse of the old, and also, alas! of the new world. THE END. 
21742	----	JARWIN AND CUFFY, BY R.M. BALLANTYNE. CHAPTER ONE. ADRIFT ON THE OCEAN. On a certain morning, not very long ago, the sun, according to his ancient and admirable custom, rose at a very early hour, and casting his bright beams far and wide over the Pacific, lighted up the yellow sands and the verdant hills of one of the loveliest of the islands of that mighty sea. It was early morning, as we have said, and there was plenty of life-- animal as well as vegetable--to be seen on land and sea, and in the warm, hazy atmosphere. But there were no indications of man's presence in that beautiful scene. The air was perfectly calm, yet the gentle swell of the ocean terminated in great waves, which came rolling in like walls of glass, and fell on the coral-reef like rushing snow-wreaths with a roar as loud as thunder. Thousands of sea-birds screamed and circled in the sky. Fish leaped high out of their native element into the air, as if they wished to catch the gulls, while the gulls, seemingly smitten with a similar desire, dived into the water as if they wished to catch the fish. It might have been observed, however, that while the fish never succeeded in catching the gulls, the latter very frequently caught the fish, and, without taking the trouble to kill them, bolted them down alive. Cocoanut-palms cast the shadows of their long stems and graceful tops upon the beach, while, farther inland, a dense forest of tropical plants--bread-fruit trees, bananas, etcetera--rose up the mountain-sides. Here and there open patches might be seen, that looked like fields and lawns, but there were no cottages or villas. Droves of pigs rambled about the valleys and on the hill-sides, but they were wild pigs. No man tended them. The bread-fruits, the cocoanuts, the bananas, the plantains, the plums, all were beautiful and fit for food, but no man owned them or used them, for, like many other spots in that sea of coral isles and savage men, the island was uninhabited. In all the wide expanse of ocean that surrounded that island, there was nothing visible save one small, solitary speck on the far-off horizon. It might have been mistaken for a seagull, but it was in reality a raft--a mass of spars and planks rudely bound together with ropes. A boat's mast rose from the centre of it, on which hung a rag of sail, and a small red flag drooped motionless from its summit. There were a few casks on the highest part of the raft, but no living soul was visible. Nevertheless, it was not without tenants. In a hollow between two of the spars, under the shadow of one of the casks, lay the form of a man. The canvas trousers, cotton shirt, blue jacket, and open necktie, bespoke him a sailor, but it seemed as though there were nothing left save the dead body of the unfortunate tar, so pale and thin and ghastly were his features. A terrier dog lay beside him, so shrunken that it looked like a mere scrap of door-matting. Both man and dog were apparently dead, but they were not so in reality, for, after lying about an hour quite motionless, the man slowly opened his eyes. Ah, reader, it would have touched your heart to have seen those eyes! They were so deep set, as if in dark caverns, and so unnaturally large. They gazed round in a vacant way for a few moments, until they fell on the dog. Then a gleam of fire shot through them, and their owner raised his large, gaunt, wasted frame on one elbow, while he gazed with a look of eagerness, which was perfectly awful, at his dumb companion. "Not dead _yet_!" he said, drawing a long sigh. There was a strange, incongruous mixture of satisfaction and discontent in the remark, which was muttered in a faint whisper. Another gleam shot through the large eyes. It was not a pleasant look. Slowly, and as if with difficulty, the man drew a clasp-knife from his pocket, and opened it. As he did so, his brows lowered and his teeth became clenched. It was quite plain what he meant to do. As he held the open knife over the dog's head, he muttered, "Am I to die for the sake of a _dog_!" Either the terrier's slumbers had come to an end naturally, at a fortunate moment, or the master's voice had awakened it, for it opened its eyes, raised its head, and looked up in the sailor's face. The hand with the knife drooped a little. The dog rose and licked it. Hunger had done its work on the poor creature, for it could hardly stand, yet it managed to look in its master's face with that grave, simple gaze of self-forgetting love, which appears to be peculiar to the canine race. The savage glare of the seaman's eyes vanished. He dropped the knife. "Thanks, Cuffy; thanks for stoppin' me. It would have been _murder_! No, no, my doggie, you and I shall die together." His voice sank into a murmur, partly from weakness and partly from the ideas suggested by his concluding words. "Die together!" he repeated, "surely it ain't come to that _yet_. Wot, John Jarwin, you're not goin' to give in like that, are you? to haul down your colours on a fine day with a clear sky like this overhead? Come, cheer up, lad; you're young and can hold out a good while yet. Hey, old dog, wot say _you_?" The dog made a motion that would, in ordinary circumstances, have resulted in the wagging of its tail, but the tail was powerless to respond. At that moment a gull flew towards the raft; Jarwin watched it eagerly as it approached. "Ah," he muttered, clasping his bony hand as tightly over his heart as his strength would allow and addressing the gull, "if I only had hold of _you_, I'd tear you limb from limb, and drink your blood!" He watched the bird intently as it flew straight over him. Leaning back, he continued slowly to follow its flight, until his head rested on the block of wood which had served him for a pillow. The support felt agreeable, he forgot the gull, closed his eyes, and sank with a deep sigh into a slumber that strongly resembled death. Presently he awoke with a start, and, once more raising himself, gazed round upon the sea. No ship was to be seen. How often he had gazed round the watery circle with the same anxious look only to meet with disappointment! The hills of the coral island were visible like a blue cloud on the horizon, but Jarwin's eyes were too dim and worn out to observe them. "Come," he exclaimed, suddenly, scrambling to his feet, "rouse up, Cuffy; you an' I ain't a-goin' to die without a good fight for life. Come along, my hearty; we'll have another glass of grog--Adam's grog it is, but it has been good grog to you an' me, doggie--an' then we shall have another inspection o' the locker; mayhap there's the half of a crumb left." The comparatively cheery tone in which the sailor said this seemed to invigorate the dog, for it rose and actually succeeded in wriggling its tail as it staggered after its master--indubitable sign of hope and love not yet subdued! Jarwin went to a cask which still contained a small quantity of fresh water. Three weeks before the point at which we take up his story, a storm had left him and his dog the sole survivors on the raft of the crew of a barque which had sprung a leak, and gone to the bottom. His provision at the time was a very small quantity of biscuit and a cask of fresh water. Several days before this the last biscuit had been consumed but the water had not yet failed. Hitherto John Jarwin had husbanded his provisions, but now, feeling desperate, he drank deeply of the few remaining drops of that liquid which, at the time, was almost as vital to him as his life-blood. He gave a full draught also to the little dog. "Share and share alike, doggie," he said, patting its head, as it eagerly lapped up the water; "but there's no wittles, Cuffy, an' ye don't care for baccy, or ye should be heartily welcome to a quid." So saying, the sailor supplied his own cheek with a small piece of his favourite weed, and stood up on the highest part of the raft to survey the surrounding prospect. He did so without much hope, for "hope deferred" had at last made his heart sick. Suddenly his wandering gaze became fixed and intense. He shaded his eyes with one hand, and steadied himself against the mast with the other. There could be no doubt of it! "Land ho!" he shouted, with a degree of strength that surprised himself, and even drew from Cuffy the ghost of a bark. On the strength of the discovery Jarwin and his dumb friend immediately treated themselves to another glass of Adam's grog. But poor Jarwin had his patience further tried. Hours passed away, and still the island seemed as far off as ever. Night drew on, and it gradually faded from his view. But he had unquestionably seen land; so, with this to comfort him, the starving tar lay down beside his dog to spend another night--as he had already spent many days and nights--a castaway on the wide ocean. Morning dawned, and the sailor rose with difficulty. He had forgotten, for a moment, the discovery of land on the previous night, but it was brought suddenly to his remembrance by the roar of breakers near at hand. Turning in the direction whence the sound came, he beheld an island quite close to him, with heavy "rollers" breaking furiously on the encircling ring of the coral-reef. The still water between the reef and the shore, which was about a quarter of a mile wide, reflected every tree and crag of the island, as if in a mirror. It was a grand, a glorious sight, and caused Jarwin's heart to swell with emotions that he had never felt before; but his attention was quickly turned to a danger which was imminent, and which seemed to threaten the total destruction of his raft, and the loss of his life. A very slight breeze--a mere zephyr--which had carried him during the night towards the island, was now bearing him straight, though slowly, down on the reef, where, if he had once got involved in the breakers, the raft must certainly have been dashed to pieces; and he knew full well, that in his weak condition, he was utterly incapable of contending with such a surf. Being a man of promptitude, his first act, on making this discovery, was to lower the sail. This was, fortunately, done in time; had he kept it up a few minutes longer, he must inevitably have passed the only opening in the reef that existed on that side of the island. This opening was not more than fifty yards wide. To the right and left of it the breakers on the reef extended, in lines of seething foam. Already the raft was rolling in the commotion caused by these breakers, as it drifted towards the opening. Jarwin was by no means devoid of courage. Many a time, in days gone by, when his good ship was tossing on the stormy sea, or scudding under bare poles, had he stood on the deck with unshaken confidence and a calm heart, but now he was face to face with the seaman's most dreaded enemy--"breakers ahead!"--nay, worse, breakers around him everywhere, save at that one narrow passage, which appeared so small, and so involved in the general turmoil, as to afford scarcely an element of hope. For the first time in his life Jarwin's heart sank within him--at least so he said in after years while talking of the event--but we suspect that John was underrating himself. At all events, he showed no symptoms of fear as he sat there calmly awaiting his fate. As the raft approached the reef, each successive roller lifted it up and dropped it behind more violently, until at last the top of one of the glittering green walls broke just as it passed under the end of the raft nearest the shore. Jarwin now knew that the next billow would seal his fate. There was a wide space between each of those mighty waves. He looked out to sea, and beheld the swell rising and taking form, and increasing in speed as it came on. Calmly divesting himself of his coat and boots, he sat down beside his dog, and awaited the event. At that moment he observed, with intense gratitude to the Almighty, that the raft was drifting so straight towards the middle of the channel in the reef, that there seemed every probability of being carried through it; but the hope thus raised was somewhat chilled by the feeling of weakness which pervaded his frame. "Now, Cuffy," said he, patting the terrier gently, "rouse up, my doggie; we must make a brave struggle for life. It's neck or nothing this time. If we touch that reef in passing, Cuff, you an' I shall be food for the sharks to-night, an' it's my opinion that the shark as gits us won't have much occasion to boast of his supper." The sailor ceased speaking abruptly. As he looked back at the approaching roller he felt solemnised and somewhat alarmed, for it appeared so perpendicular and so high from his low position, that it seemed as if it would fall on and overwhelm the raft. There was, indeed, some danger of this. Glancing along its length, Jarwin saw that here and there the edge was lipping over, while in one place, not far off, the thunder of its fall had already begun. Another moment, and it appeared to hang over his head; the raft was violently lifted at the stern, caught up, and whirled onward at railway speed, like a cork in the midst of a boiling cauldron of foam. The roar was deafening. The tumultuous heaving almost overturned it several times. Jarwin held on firmly to the mast with his right arm, and grasped the terrier with his left hand, for the poor creature had not strength to resist such furious motion. It all passed with bewildering speed. It seemed as if, in one instant, the raft was hurled through the narrows, and launched into the calm harbour within. An eddy, at the inner side of the opening, swept it round, and fixed the end of one of the largest spars of which it was composed on the beach. There were fifty yards or so of sandy coral-reef between the beach outside, that faced the sea, and the beach inside, which faced the land; yet how great the difference! The one beach, buffeted for ever, day and night, by the breakers--in calm by the grand successive rollers that, as it were, symbolised the ocean's latent power--in storm by the mad deluge of billows which displayed that power in all its terrible grandeur. The other beach, a smooth, sloping circlet of fair white sand, laved only by the ripples of the lagoon, or by its tiny wavelets, when a gale chanced to sweep over it from the land. Jarwin soon gained this latter beach with Cuffy in his arms, and sat down to rest, for his strength had been so much reduced that the mere excitement of passing through the reef had almost exhausted him. Cuffy, however, seemed to derive new life from the touch of earth again, for it ran about in a staggering drunken sort of way; wagged its tail at the root,--without, however, being able to influence the point,--and made numerous futile efforts to bark. In the midst of its weakly gambols the terrier chanced to discover a dead fish on the sands. Instantly it darted forward and began to devour it with great voracity. "Halo! Cuffy," shouted Jarwin, who observed him; "ho! hold on, you rascal! share and share alike, you know. Here, fetch it here!" Cuffy had learned the first great principle of a good and useful life-- whether of man or beast--namely, prompt obedience. That meek but jovial little dog, on receiving this order, restrained its appetite, lifted the fish in its longing jaws, and, carrying it to his master, humbly laid it at his feet. He was rewarded with a hearty pat on the head, and a full half of the coveted fish--for Jarwin appeared to regard the "share-and-share-alike" principle as a point of honour between them. The fish was not good, neither was it large, and of course it was raw, besides being somewhat decayed; nevertheless, both man and dog ate it, bones and all, with quiet satisfaction. Nay, reader, do not shudder! If you were reduced to similar straits, you would certainly enjoy, with equal gusto, a similar meal, supposing that you had the good fortune to get it. Small though it was, it sufficed to appease the appetite of the two friends, and to give them a feeling of strength which they had not experienced for many a day. Under the influence of this feeling, Jarwin remarked to Cuffy, that "a man could eat a-most anything when hard put to it," and that "it wos now high time to think about goin' ashore." To which Cuffy replied with a bark, which one might imagine should come from a dog in the last stage of whooping-cough, and with a wag of his tail--not merely at the root thereof, but a distinct wag--that extended obviously along its entire length to the extreme point. Jarwin observed the successful effort, laughed feebly, and said, "Brayvo, Cuffy," with evident delight; for it reminded him of the days when that little shred of a door-mat, in the might of its vigour, was wont to wag its tail so violently as to convulse its whole body, insomuch that it was difficult to decide whether the tail wagged the body, or the body the tail! But, although Jarwin made light of his sufferings, his gaunt, wasted frame would have been a sad sight to any pitiful spectator, as with weary aspect and unsteady gait he moved about on the sandy ridge in search of more food, or gazed with longing eyes on the richly-wooded island. For it must be remembered that our castaway had not landed on the island itself, but on that narrow ring of coral-reef which almost encircled it, and from which it was separated by the lagoon, or enclosed portion of the sea, which was, as we have said, about a quarter of a mile wide. John Jarwin would have thought little of swimming over that narrow belt of smooth water in ordinary circumstances, but now he felt that his strength was not equal to such a feat. Moreover, he knew that there were sharks in these waters, so he dismissed the idea of swimming, and cast about in his mind how he should manage to get across. With Jarwin, action soon followed thought. He resolved to form a small raft out of portions of the large one. Fortunately his clasp-knife had been attached, as seamen frequently have it, to his waist-belt, when he forsook his ship. This was the only implement that he possessed, but it was invaluable. With it he managed to cut the thick ropes that he could not have untied, and, in the course of two hours--for he laboured with extreme difficulty--a few broken planks and spars were lashed together. Embarking on this frail vessel with his dog, he pushed off, and using a piece of plank for an oar, sculled himself over the lagoon. It was touching, even to himself, to observe the slowness of his progress. All the strength that remained in him was barely sufficient to move the raft. But the lagoon was as still as a mill-pond. Looking down into its clear depths, he could see the rich gardens of coral and sea-weed, among which fish, of varied and brilliant colours, sported many fathoms below. The air, too, was perfectly calm. Very slowly he left the reef astern; the middle of the lagoon was gained; then, gradually, he neared the island-shore, but oh! it was a long, weary pull, although the space was so short, and, to add to the poor man's misery, the fish which he had eaten caused him intolerable thirst. But he reached the shore at last. The first thing that greeted his eye as he landed was the sparkle of a clear spring at the foot of some cocoanut-trees. He staggered eagerly towards it, and fell down beside a hollow in the rock, like a large cup or bowl, which had been scooped out by it. Who shall presume to describe the feelings of that shipwrecked sailor as he and his dog drank from the same cup at that sparkling crystal fountain? Delicious odours of lime and citron trees, and well-nigh forgotten herbage, filled his nostrils, and the twitter of birds thrilled his ears, seeming to bid him welcome to the land, as he sank down on the soft grass, and raised his eyes in thanksgiving to heaven. An irresistible tendency to sleep then seized him. "If there's a heaven upon earth, I'm in it now," he murmured, as he laid down his head and closed his eyes. Cuffy, nestling into his breast, placed his chin on his neck, and heaved a deep, contented sigh. This was the last sound the sailor recognised, as he sank into profound repose. CHAPTER TWO. ISLAND LIFE. There are few of the minor sweets of life more agreeable than to awake refreshed, and to become gradually impressed with the conviction that you are a perfectly free agent,--that you may rise when you choose, or lie still if you please, or do what you like, without let or hindrance. So thought our hero, John Jarwin, when he awoke, on the same spot where he had thrown himself down, after several hours of life-giving slumber. He was still weak, but his weakness did not now oppress him. The slight meal, the long draught, and the deep sleep, had restored enough of vigour to his naturally robust frame to enable him, while lying on his back, to enjoy his existence once more. He was, on first awaking, in that happy condition of mind and body in which the former does not care to think and the latter does not wish to move--yet both are pleased to be largely conscious of their own identity. That he had not moved an inch since he lay down, became somewhat apparent to Jarwin from the fact that Cuffy's chin still rested immovable on his neck, but his mind was too indolent to pursue the thought. He had not the most remote idea as to where he was, but he cared nothing for that. He was in absolute ignorance of the time of day, but he cared, if possible, still less for that. Food, he knew, was necessary to his existence, but the thought gave him no anxiety. In short, John and his dog were in a state of quiescent felicity, and would probably have remained so for some hours to come, had not the setting sun shone forth at that moment with a farewell gleam so intense, that it appeared to set the world of clouds overhead on fire, converting them into hills and dales, and towering domes and walls and battlements of molten glass and gold. Even to the wearied seaman's sleepy vision the splendour of the scene became so fascinating, that he shook off his lethargy, and raised himself on one elbow. "Why, Cuffy!" he exclaimed, to the yawning dog, "seems to me that the heavens is a-fire! Hope it won't come on dirty weather before you an' I get up somethin' in the shape o' a hut. That minds me, doggie," he added, glancing slowly round him, "that we must look after prokoorin' of our supper. I do believe we've bin an' slep away a whole day! Well, well, it don't much matter, seein' that we hain't got no dooty for to do--no trick at the wheel, no greasin' the masts--wust of all, no splicin' the main brace, and no grub." This latter remark appeared to reach the understanding of the dog, for it uttered a melancholy howl as it gazed into its master's eyes. "Ah, Cuffy!" continued the sailor with a sigh, "you've good reason to yowl, for the half of a rotten fish ain't enough for a dog o' your appetite. Come, let's see if we can't find somethin' more to our tastes." Saying this the man rose, stretched himself, yawned, looked helplessly round for a few seconds, and then, with a cheery "Hallo! Cuff, come along, my hearty," went down to the beach in quest of food. In this search he was not unsuccessful, for the beach abounded with shell-fish of various kinds; but Jarwin ate sparingly of these, having been impressed, in former years, by some stories which he had heard of shipwrecked sailors having been poisoned by shell-fish. For the same reason he administered a moderate supply to Cuffy, telling him that "it warn't safe wittles, an' that if they was to be pisoned, it was as well to be pisoned in moderation." The dog, however, did not appear to agree with its master on this point, for it went picking up little tit-bits here and there, and selfishly ignoring the "share-and-share-alike" compact, until it became stuffed alarmingly, and could scarcely follow its master back to the fountain. Arrived there, the two slaked their thirst together, and then Jarwin sat down to enjoy a pipe, and Cuffy lay down to suffer the well-merited reward of gluttony. We have said that Jarwin sat down to enjoy a pipe, but he did _not_ enjoy it that night, for he discovered that the much-loved little implement, which he had cherished tenderly while on the raft, was broken to atoms in his coat-pocket! In his eagerness to drink on first landing, he had thrown himself down on it, and now smoking was an impossibility, at least for that night. He reflected, however, that it would not be difficult to make a wooden pipe, and that cigarettes might perhaps be made by means of leaves, or bark, while his tobacco lasted; so he consoled himself in the meantime with hopeful anticipations, and a quid. Being still weak and weary, he lay down again beside the fountain, and almost immediately fell into a sleep, which was not at all disturbed by the starts and groans and frequent yelps of Cuffy, whose sufferings could scarcely have been more severe if he had supped on turtle-soup and venison, washed down with port and claret. Thus did those castaways spend the first night on their island. It must not be supposed, however, that we are going to trace thus minutely every step and sensation in the career of our unfortunate friends. We have too much to tell that is important to devote our "valuable space" to everyday incidents. Nevertheless, as it is important that our readers should understand our hero thoroughly, and the circumstances in which we find him, it is necessary that we should draw attention to some incidents--trifling in themselves, but important in their effects--which occurred to John Jarwin soon after his landing on the island. The first of these incidents was, that John one day slipped his foot on a tangle-covered rock, and fell into the sea. A small matter this, you will say, to a man who could swim, and in a climate so warm that a dip, with or without clothes, was a positive luxury. Most true; and had the wetting been all, Jarwin would have had nothing to annoy him; for at the time the accident occurred he had been a week on the island, had managed to pull and crack many cocoa-nuts, and had found various excellent wild-fruits, so that his strength, as well as Cuffy's, had been much restored. In fact, when Jarwin's head emerged from the brine, after his tumble, he gave vent to a shout of laughter, and continued to indulge in hilarious demonstrations all the time he was wringing the water out of his garments, while the terrier barked wildly round him. But suddenly, in the very midst of a laugh, he became grave and pale,-- so pale, that a more obtuse creature than Cuffy might have deemed him ill. While his mouth and eyes slowly opened wider and wider, his hands slapped his pockets, first his trousers, then his vest, then his coat, after which they fell like pistol-shots on his thighs, and he exclaimed, in a voice of horror--"Gone!" Ay, there could be no doubt about it; every particle of his tobacco was gone! It had never been much, only three or four plugs; but it was strong, and he had calculated that, what with careful husbanding, and mixing it with other herbs, it would last him for a considerable length of time. In a state bordering on frenzy, the sailor rushed back to the rock from which he had fallen. The "baccy" was not there. He glanced right and left--no sign of it floating on the sea. In he went, head foremost, like a determined suicide; down, down to the bottom, for he was an expert diver, and rioted among the coral groves, and horrified the fish, until he well-nigh burst, and rose to the surface with a groan and splutter that might have roused envy in a porpoise. Then down he went again, while Cuffy stood on the shore regarding him with mute amazement. Never did pearl-diver grope for the treasures of the deep with more eager intensity than did John Jarwin search for that lost tobacco. He remained under water until he became purple in the face, and, coming to the surface after each dive, stayed only long enough to recharge his lungs with air. How deeply he regretted at that time the fact that man's life depended on so frequent and regular a supply of atmospheric air! How enviously he glanced at the fish which, with open eyes and mouths, appeared to regard him with inexpressible astonishment--as well they might! At last Jarwin's powers of endurance began to give way, and he was compelled to return to the shore, to the great relief of Cuffy, which miserable dog, if it had possessed the smallest amount of reasoning power, must have deemed its master hopelessly insane. "But why so much ado about a piece of tobacco?" we hear some lady-reader or non-smoker exclaim. Just because our hero was, and had been since his childhood, an inveterate smoker. Of course we cannot prove our opinion to be correct, but we are inclined to believe that if all the smoke that had issued from Jarwin's lips, from the period of his commencing down to that terrible day when he lost his last plug, could have been collected in one vast cloud, it would have been sufficient to have kept a factory chimney going for a month or six weeks. The poor man knew his weakness. He had several times tried to get rid of the habit which had enslaved him, and, by failing, had come to know the tyrannical power of his master. He had once been compelled by circumstances to forego his favourite indulgence for three entire days, and retained so vivid a recollection of his sufferings that he made up his mind never more to strive for freedom, but to enjoy his pipe as long as he lived--to swim with the current, in fact, and take it easy. It was of no use that several men, who objected to smoking from principle, and had themselves gone through the struggle and come off victorious, pointed out that if he went on at his present rate, it would cut short his life. Jarwin didn't believe _that_. He _felt_ well and hearty, and said that he "was too tough, by a long way, to be floored by baccy; besides, if his life was to be short, he saw no reason why it should not be a pleasant one." It was vain for these disagreeable men of principle to urge that when his health began to give way he would not find life very pleasant, and then "baccy" would fail to relieve him. Stuff and nonsense? Did not Jarwin know that hundreds of thousands of _old_ men enjoyed their pipes to the very last. He also knew that a great many men had filled early graves owing to the use of tobacco, but he chose to shut his eyes to this fact--moreover, although a great truth, it was a difficult truth to prove. It was of still less use that those tiresome men of principle demonstrated that the money spent in tobacco would, if accumulated, form a snug little fortune to retire upon in his old age. John only laughed at this. "Wot did he want with a fortin in his old age," he would say; "he would rather work to the last for his three B's--his bread and beer and baccy--an' die in harness. A man couldn't get on like a man without them three B's, and he wosn't goin' for to deprive hisself of none of 'em, not he; besides, his opponents were bad argifiers," he was wont to say, with a chuckle, "for if, as they said, baccy would be the means of cuttin' his life short, why then, he wouldn't never come to old age to use his fortin, even if he _should_ manage to save it off his baccy." This last argument always brought Jarwin off with flying colours--no wonder, for it was unanswerable; and thus he came to love his beer and baccy so much that he became thoroughly enslaved to both. His brief residence on the south-sea island had taught him, by painful experience, that he _was_ capable of existing without at least two of his three B's--bread and beer. He had suffered somewhat from the change of diet; and now that his third B was thus suddenly, unexpectedly, and hopelessly wrenched from him, he sat himself down on the beach beside Cuffy, and gazed out to sea in absolute despair. We must guard the reader at this point from supposing that John Jarwin had ever been what is called an intemperate man. He was one of those honest, straightforward tars who do their duty like men, and who, although extremely fond of their pipe and their glass of grog, never lower themselves below the level of the brutes by getting drunk. At the same time, we feel constrained to add that Jarwin acted entirely from impulse and kindly feeling. He had little to do with principle, and did not draw towards those who professed to be thus guided. He was wont to say that they "was troublesome fellers, always shovin' in their oars when they weren't wanted to, an' settin' themselves up for better than everybody else." Had one of those troublesome fellows presented John Jarwin with a pound of tobacco in his forlorn circumstances, at that time he would probably have slapped him on the shoulder, and called him one of the best fellows under the sun! "Cuffy, my friend," exclaimed Jarwin at last, with an explosive sigh, "all the baccy's gone, so we'll have to smoke sea-weed for the futur'." The terrier said "Bow-wow" to this, cocked its ears, and looked earnest, as if waiting for more. "Come along," exclaimed the man, overturning his dog as he leaped up, "we'll go home and have summat to eat." Jarwin had erected a rude hut, composed of boughs and turf, near the fountain where he had first landed. It was the home to which he referred. At first he had devoted himself entirely to the erection of this shelter, and to collecting various roots and fruits and shell-fish for food, intending to delay the examination of the island until his strength should be sufficiently restored to enable him to scale the heights without more than ordinary fatigue. He had been so far recruited as to have fixed for his expedition the day following that on which he sustained his irreparable loss. Entering his hut he proceeded to kindle a fire by means of a small burning-glass, with which, in happier times, he had been wont to light his pipe. Very soon he had several roots, resembling small potatoes, baking in the hot ashes. With these, a handful of plums, a dozen of oyster-like fish, of which there were plenty on the shore, and a draught of clear cold water, he made a hearty repast, Cuffy coming in for a large share of it, as a matter of course. Then he turned all his pockets inside out, and examined them as carefully as if diamonds lurked in the seams. No, not a speck of tobacco was to be found! He smelt them. The odour was undoubtedly strong--very strong. On the strength of it he shut his eyes, and endeavoured to think that he was smoking; but it was a weak substitute for the pipe, and not at all satisfying. Thereafter he sallied forth and wandered about the sea-shore in a miserable condition, and went to bed that night--as he remarked to his dog--in the blues. Reader, it is not possible to give you an adequate conception of the sensations and sufferings of John Jarwin on that first night of his bereaved condition. He dreamed continuously of tobacco. Now he was pacing the deck of his old ship with a splendid pipe of cut Cavendish between his lips. Anon he was smoking a meerschaum the size of a hogshead, with a stem equal to the length and thickness of the main-topmast of a seventy-four; but somehow the meerschaum wouldn't draw, whereupon John, in a passion, pronounced it worthy of its name, and hove it overboard, when it was instantly transformed into a shark with a cutty pipe in its mouth. To console himself our hero endeavoured to thrust into his mouth a quid of negro-head, which, however, suddenly grew as big as the cabin-skylight, and became as tough as gutta-percha, so that it was utterly impossible to bite off a piece; and, stranger still, when the poor sailor had by struggling got it in, it dwindled down into a point so small that he could not feel it in his mouth at all. On reaching this, the vanishing-point, Jarwin awoke to a consciousness of the dread reality of his destitute condition. Turning on his other side with a deep groan, he fell asleep again, to dream of tobacco in some new and tantalising form until sunrise, when he awoke unrefreshed. Leaping up, he cast off his clothes, rushed down the beach, and plunged into sea, by way of relieving his feelings. During the day John Jarwin brooded much over his dreams, for his mind was of a reflective turn, and Cuffy looked often inquiringly into his face. That sympathetic doggie would evidently have besought him to pour his sorrows into his cocked ears if he could have spoken; but--alas! for people who are cast away on desert islands--the gift of speech has been denied to dogs. Besides being moody, Jarwin was uncommonly taciturn that day. He did not tell Cuffy the result of his cogitations, so that we cannot say anything further about them. All that we are certainly sure of is, that he was profoundly miserable that day--that he postponed his intended expedition to the top of the neighbouring hill--that he walked about the beach slowly, with his chin on his breast and his hands in his pockets-- that he made various unsuccessful attempts to smoke dried leaves, and bark, and wild-flowers, mixing with those substances shreds of his trousers' pockets, in order that they might have at least the flavour of tobacco--that he became more and more restive as the day wore on, became more submissive in the evening, paid a few apologetic attentions to Cuffy at supper-time, and, finally, went to bed in a better frame of mind, though still craving painfully for the weed which had enslaved him. That night his dreams were still of tobacco! No lover was ever assailed more violently with dreams of his absent mistress than was John Jarwin with longings for his adorable pipe. But there was no hope for him--the beloved one was effectually and permanently gone; so, like a sensible man, he awoke next morning with a stern resolve to submit to his fate with a good grace. In pursuance of this resolution he began the day with a cold bath, in which Cuffy joined him. Then he breakfasted on chestnuts, plums, citrons, oysters, and shrimps, the former of which abounded in the woods, the latter on the shore. Jarwin caught the shrimps in a net, extemporised out of his pocket-handkerchief. While engaged with his morning meal, he was earnestly watched by several green paroquets with blue heads and crimson breasts; and during pauses in the meal he observed flocks of brightly-coloured doves and wood-pigeons, besides many other kinds of birds, the names of which he did not know, as well as water-hens, plover, and wild ducks. "Lost your appetite this morning, Cuff?" said Jarwin, offering his companion a citron, which he decidedly refused. "Ah!" he continued, patting the dog's sides, "I see how it is; you've had breakfast already this morning; bin at it when I was a-sleepin'. For shame, Cuffy!--you should have waited for me; an' you've bin an' over-ate yourself again, you greedy dog!" This was evidently the case. The guilty creature, forgetful of its past experiences, had again gorged itself with dead fish, which it had found on the beach, and looked miserable. "Well, never mind, doggie," said Jarwin, finishing his meal, and rising. "I'll give you a little exercise to-day for the good of your health. We shan't go sulking as we did yesterday; so, come along." The sailor left his bower as he spoke, and set off at a round pace with his hands in his pockets, and a thick stick under his arm, whistling as he went, while Cuffy followed lovingly at his heels. CHAPTER THREE. COMMUNINGS OF MAN AND BEAST. It would appear to be almost an essential element in life that man should indulge in speech. Of course we cannot prove this, seeing that we have never been cast alone on a desert island (although we _have_ been next thing to it), and cannot positively conclude what would have been the consequences to our castaway if he had rigidly refrained from speech. All that we can ground an opinion on is the fact that John Jarwin talked as much and as earnestly to his dog as if he knew that that sagacious creature understood every word he uttered. Indeed, he got into such a habit of doing this, that it is very probable he might have come to believe that Cuffy really did understand, though he was not gifted with the power to reply. If it be true that Jarwin came to this state of credulity, certain it is that Cuffy was deeply to blame in the matter, because the way in which that ridiculous hypocrite sat before his master, and looked up in his face with his lustrous, intelligent eyes, and cocked his ears, and wagged his tail, and smiled, might have deceived a much less superstitious man than a British tar. We have said that Cuffy smiled, advisedly. Some people might object to the word, and say that he only "snickered," or made faces. That, we hold, is a controvertible question. Cuffy's facial contortions looked like smiling. They came very often inappropriately, and during parts of Jarwin's discourse when no smile should have been called forth; but if that be sufficient to prove that Cuffy was not smiling, then, on the same ground, we hold that a large proportion of those ebullitions which convulse the human countenance are not smiles but unmeaning grins. Be this as it may, Cuffy smiled, snickered, or grinned amazingly, during the long discourses that were delivered to him by his master, and indeed looked so wonderfully human in his knowingness, that it only required a speaking tongue and a shaved face to constitute him an unanswerable proof of the truth of the Darwinian theory of the origin of the human species. "Cuffy," said Jarwin, panting, as he reached the summit of his island, and sat down on its pinnacle rock, "that's a splendid view, ain't it?" To any one save a cynic or a misanthrope, Cuffy replied with eye and tail, "It is magnificent." "But you're not looking at it," objected Jarwin, "you're looking straight up in my face; so how can you tell what it's like, doggie?" "I see it all," replied Cuffy with a grin; "all reflected in the depths of your two loving eyes." Of course Jarwin lost this pretty speech in consequence of its being a mute reply, but he appeared to have some intuitive perception of it, for he stooped down and patted the dog's head affectionately. After this there was a prolonged silence, during which the sailor gazed wistfully round the horizon. The scene was indeed one of surpassing beauty and grandeur. The island on which he had been cast was one of those small coral gems which deck the breast of the Pacific. It could not have been more than nine or ten miles in circumference, yet within this area there lay a miniature world. The mountain-top on which the seaman sat was probably eight or nine hundred feet above the level of the sea, and commanded a view of the whole island. On one side lay three lesser hills, covered to their summits with indescribably rich verdure, amongst which rose conspicuous the tall stems and graceful foliage of many cocoanut-palms. Fruit-trees of various kinds glistened in the sunshine, and flowering shrubs in abundance lent additional splendour to the scene. On the other side of the mountain a small lake glittered like a jewel among the trees; and there numerous flocks of wild-fowl disported themselves in peaceful security. From the farther extremity of the lake flowed a rivulet, which, from the mountain-top, resembled a silver thread winding its way through miniature valleys, until lost in the light yellow sand of the sea-shore. On this beach there was not even a ripple, because of the deep calm which prevailed but on the ring or coral-reef, which completely encircled the island, those great "rollers"--which appear never to go down even in calm--fell from time to time with a long, solemn roar, and left an outer ring of milk-white foam. The blue lagoon between the reef and the island varied from a few yards to a quarter of a mile in breadth, and its quiet waters were like a sheet of glass, save where they were ruffled now and then by the diving of a sea-gull or the fin of a shark. Birds of many kinds filled the grove with sweet sounds, and tended largely to dispel that feeling of intense loneliness which had been creeping that day over our seaman's spirit. "Come, my doggie," said Jarwin, patting his dumb companion's head, "if you and I are to dwell here for long, we've got a most splendid estate to look after. I only hope we won't find South Sea niggers in possession before us, for they're not hospitable, Cuffy, they ain't hospitable, bein' given, so I'm told, to prefer human flesh to most other kinds o' wittles." He looked anxiously round in all directions at this point, as if the ideas suggested by his words were not particularly agreeable. "No," he resumed, after a short survey, "it don't seem as if there was any of 'em here. Anyhow I can't see none, and most parts of the island are visible from this here mast-head." Again the seaman became silent as he repeated his survey of the island; his hands, meanwhile, searching slowly, as if by instinct, round his pockets, and into their most minute recesses, if haply they might find an atom of tobacco. Both hands and eyes, however, failed in their search; so, turning once more towards his dog, Jarwin sat down and addressed it thus:-- "Cuff, my doggie, don't wink in that idiotical way, you hanimated bundle of oakum! and don't wag yer tail so hard, else you'll shake it off some fine day! Well, Cuff, here you an' I are fixed--`it may be for years, an' it may be for ever'--as the old song says; so it behoves you and me to hold a consultation as to wot's the best to be done for to make the most of our sukumstances. Ah, doggie!" he continued in a low tone, looking pensively towards the horizon, "it's little that my dear wife (your missus and mine, Cuff) knows that her John has fallen heir to sitch an estate; become, so to speak, `monarch of all he surveys.' O Molly, Molly, if you was only here, wot a paradise it would be! Eden over again; Adam an' Eve, without a'most no difference, barrin' the clo'se, by the way, for if I ain't mistaken, Adam didn't wear a straw hat and a blue jacket, with pumps and canvas ducks. Leastwise, I've never heard that he did; an' I'm quite sure that Eve didn't go to church on Sundays in a gown wi' sleeves like two legs o' mutton, an' a bonnet like a coal-scuttle. By the way, I don't think they owned a doggie neither." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ At this point the terrier, who had gradually quieted down during the above soliloquy, gave a responsive wag of its tail, and looked up with a smile--a plain, obvious, unquestionable smile, which its master believed in most thoroughly. "Ah, you needn't grin like that, Cuff," replied Jarwin, "it's quite certain that Adam and Eve had no doggie. No doubt they had plenty of wild 'uns--them as they giv'd names to--but they hadn't a good little tame 'un like you, Cuff; no, nor nobody else, for you're the best dog in the world--if you'd only keep yer spanker-boom quiet; but you'll shake it off, you will, if you go on like that. There, lie down, an' let's get on with our consultation. Well, as I was sayin' when you interrupted me, wot a happy life we could live here if we'd only got the old girl with us! I'd be king, you know, Cuff, and she'd be queen, and we'd make you prime minister--you're prime favourite already, you know. There now, if you don't clap a stopper on that ere spanker-boom, I'll have to lash it down. Well, to proceed: we'd build a hut--or a palace-- of turf an' sticks, with a bunk alongside for you; an w'en our clo'se began for to wear out, we'd make pants and jackets and petticoats of cocoanut-fibre; for you must know I've often see'd mats made o' that stuff, an' splendid wear there's in it too, though it would be rather rough for the skin at first; but we'd get used to that in coorse o' time. Only fancy Mrs Jarwin in a cocoanut-fibre petticoat with a palm-leaf hat, or somethink o' that sort! An', after all, it wouldn't be half so rediklous as some o' the canvas she's used to spread on Sundays." Jarwin evidently thought his ideas somewhat ridiculous, for he paused at this point and chuckled, while Cuffy sprang up and barked responsively. While they were thus engaged, a gleam of white appeared on the horizon. "Sail ho!" shouted the sailor in the loud, full tones with which he was wont to announce such an appearance from the mast-head in days gone by. Oh, how earnestly he strained his eyes in the direction of that little speck! It might have been a sail; just as likely it was the wing of a sea-gull or an albatross. Whatever it was, it grew gradually less until it sank out of view on the distant horizon. With it sank poor Jarwin's newly-raised hopes. Still he continued to gaze intently, in the hope that it might reappear; but it did not. With a heavy sigh the sailor rose at length, wakened Cuffy, who had gone to sleep, and descended the mountain. This look-out on the summit of the island now became the regular place of resort for Jarwin and his dumb, but invaluable companion. And so absorbed did the castaway become, in his contemplation of the horizon, and in his expectation of the heaving in sight of another sail, that he soon came to spend most of his time there. He barely gave himself time to cook and eat his breakfast before setting out for the spot, and frequently he remained there the livelong day, having carried up enough of provision to satisfy his hunger. At first, while there, he employed himself in the erection of a rude flag-staff, and thus kept himself busy and reasonably cheerful. He cut the pole with some difficulty, his clasp-knife being but a poor substitute for an axe; then he bored a hole at the top to reave the halliards through. These latter he easily made by plaiting together threads of cocoanut-fibre, which were both tough and long. When ready, he set up and fixed the staff, and hoisted thereon several huge leaves of the palm-tree, which, in their natural size and shape, formed excellent flags. When, however, all this was done, he was reduced to a state of idleness, and his mind began to dwell morbidly on the idea of being left to spend the rest of his days on the island. His converse with Cuffy became so sad that the spirits of that sagacious and sympathetic dog were visibly affected. He did, indeed, continue to lick his master's hand lovingly, and to creep close to his side on all occasions; but he ceased to wag his expressive tail with the violence that used to characterise that appendage in other days, and became less demonstrative in his conduct. All this, coupled with constant exposure in all sorts of weather-- although Jarwin was not easily affected by a breeze or a wet jacket-- began at last to undermine the health of the stout seaman. He became somewhat gaunt and hollow-cheeked, and his beard and moustache, which of course he could not shave, and which, for a long time, presented the appearance of stubble, added to the lugubriosity of his aspect. As a climax to his distress, he one day lost his dog! When it went off, or where it went to, he could not tell, but, on rousing up one morning and putting out his hand almost mechanically to give it the accustomed pat of salutation, he found that it was gone. A thrill of alarm passed through his frame on making this discovery, and, leaping up, he began to shout its name. But no answering bark was heard. Again and again he shouted, but in vain. Without taking time to put on his coat, he ran to the top of the nearest eminence, and again shouted loud and long. Still no answer. A feeling of desperate anxiety now took possession of the man. The bare idea of being left in utter loneliness drove him almost distracted. For some time he ran hither and thither, calling passionately to his dog, until he became quite exhausted; then he sat down on a rock, and endeavoured to calm his spirit and consider what he should do. Indulging in his tendency to think aloud, he said-- "Come now, John, don't go for to make a downright fool of yerself. Cuffy has only taken a longer walk than usual. He'll be home to breakfast; but you may as well look a bit longer, there's no sayin' wot may have happened. He may have felled over a precepiece or sprain'd his leg. Don't you give way to despair anyhow, John Jarwin, but nail yer colours to the mast, and never say die." Somewhat calmed by these encouraging exhortations, the sailor rose up and resumed his search in a more methodical way. Going down to the sea, he walked thence up to the edge of the bush, gazing with the utmost intensity at the ground all the way, in the hope of discovering Cuffy's fresh footsteps; but none were to be seen. "Come," said he, "it's clear that you haven't gone to the s'uth'ard o' yer home; now, we'll have a look to the nor'ard." Here he was more successful. The prints of Cuffy's small paws were discovered on the wet sand bearing northward along shore. Jarwin followed them up eagerly, but, coming to a place where the sand was hard and dry, and covered with thin grass, he lost them. Turning back to where they were distinct, he recommenced the search. No red Indian, in pursuit of friend or foe, ever followed up a trail with more intense eagerness than poor Jarwin followed the track of his lost companion. He even began to develop, in quite a surprising way, some of the deep sagacity of the savage; for he came, before that day was over, not only to distinguish the prints of Cuffy's paws on pretty hard sand, where the impressions were very faint, but even on rough ground, where there were no distinct marks at all--only such indications as were afforded by the pressure of a dead leaf into soft ground, or the breaking of a fallen twig! Nevertheless, despite his care, anxiety, and diligence, Jarwin failed to find his dog. He roamed all that day until his limbs were weary, and shouted till his voice was hoarse, but only echoes answered him. At last he sat down, overcome with fatigue and grief. It had rained heavily during the latter part of the day and soaked him to the skin, but he heeded it not. Towards evening the weather cleared up little, but the sun descended to the horizon in a mass of black clouds, which were gilded with [a] strange lurid light that presaged a storm; while sea-birds flew overhead and shrieked in wild excitement, as if they were alarmed at the prospect before them. But Jarwin observed and cared for none of these things. He buried his face in his hands, and sat for some time perfectly motionless. While seated thus, a cold shiver passed through his frame once or twice, and he felt unusually faint. "Humph!" said he, the second time this occurred, "strange sort o' feelin'. Never felt it before. No doubt it's in consikince o' goin' without wittles all day. Well, well," he added, with a deep long-drawn sigh, "who'd have thought I'd lose 'ee, Cuff, in this fashion. It's foolish, no doubt, to take on like this, but I can't help it somehow. I don't believe I could feel much worse if I had lost my old 'ooman. It's kurious, but I feels awful lonesome without 'ee, my doggie." He was interrupted by the shivering again, and was about to rise, when a long low wail struck on his ear. He listened intently. No statue ever sat more motionless on its pedestal than did Jarwin during the next three minutes. Again the wail rose, faint and low at first, then swelling out into a prolonged loud cry, which, strange to say, seemed to be both distant and near. John Jarwin was not altogether free from superstition. His heart beat hard under the influence of a mingled feeling of hope and fear; but when he heard the cry the third time, he dismissed his fears, and, leaping up, hurried forward in the direction whence the sound appeared to come. The bushes were thick and difficult to penetrate, but he persevered on hearing a repetition of the wail, and was thus led into a part of the island which he had not formerly visited. Presently he came to something that appeared not unlike an old track; but, although the sun had not quite set, the place was so shut in by tangled bushes and trees that he could see nothing distinctly. Suddenly he put his right foot on a mass of twigs, which gave way under his weight, and he made a frantic effort to recover himself. Next moment, he fell headlong into a deep hole or pit at the bottom of which he lay stunned for some time. Recovering, he found that no bones were broken, and after considerable difficulty, succeeded in scrambling out of the hole. Just as he did so, the wail was again raised; but it sounded so strange, and so unlike any sound that Cuffy could produce, that he was tempted to give up the search--all the more that his recent fall had so shaken his exhausted frame that he could scarcely walk. While he stood irresolute, the wail was repeated, and, this time, there was a melancholy sort of "bow-wow" mingled with it, that sent the blood careering through his veins like wildfire. Fatigue and hunger were forgotten. Shouting the name of his dog, he bounded forward, and would infallibly have plunged head-foremost into another pit, at the bottom of which Cuffy lay, had not that wise creature uttered a sudden bark of joy, which checked his master on the very brink. "Hallo! _Cuff_, is that you, my doggie?" "Bow, wow, _wow_!" exclaimed Cuffy in tones which there could be no mistaking, although the broken twigs and herbage which covered the mouth of the pit muffled them a good deal, and accounted for the strangeness of the creature's howls when heard at a distance. "Why, where ever have 'ee got yourself into?" said Jarwin, going down on his knees and groping carefully about the opening of the pit. "I do believe you've bin an' got into a trap o' some sort. The savages must have been here before us, doggie, and made more than one of 'em, for I've just comed out o' one myself. Hallo! _there_, I'm into another!" he exclaimed as the treacherous bank gave way, and he slipped in headlong, with a dire crash, almost smothering Cuffy in his fall. Fortunately, no damage, beyond a few scratches, resulted either to dog or man, and in a few minutes more both stood upon firm ground. It would be vain, reader to attempt to give you in detail all that John Jarwin said and did on that great occasion, as he sat there on the ground caressing his dog as if it had been his own child. We leave it to your imagination! When he had expended the first burst of feeling, he got up, and was about to retrace his steps, when he observed some bones lying near him. On examination, these proved to be the skeleton of a man. At first Jarwin thought it must be that of a native; but he was startled to find among the dust on which the skeleton lay several brass buttons with anchors on them. That he stood beside the remains of a brother seaman, who had probably been cast on that island, as he himself had been, seemed very evident, and the thought filled him with strange depressing emotions. As it was by that time too dark to make further investigations, he left the place, intending to return next day; and, going as cautiously as possible out of the wood, returned to his abode, where he kindled a fire, gave Cuffy some food, and prepared some for himself; but before he had tasted that food another of the shivering fits seized him. A strange feeling of being very ill, and a peculiar wandering of his mind, induced him to throw himself on his couch. The prolonged strain to which body and mind had been subjected had proved too much for him, and before morning he was stricken with a raging fever. CHAPTER FOUR. HOPES AND FEARS AND STERN RESOLVES LEAD TO VIGOROUS ACTION. For several days the sailor lay tossing in helpless misery in his bower, without food or fire. Indeed he could not have eaten even if food had been offered him, and as to fire, there was heat enough in his veins, poor fellow! to more than counterbalance the want of that. During part of the time he became delirious, and raved about home and sea-life and old companions in a way that evidently quite alarmed Cuffy, for that sagacious terrier approached his master with caution, with his tail between his legs, and a pitiful, earnest gaze, that was quite touching. This was partly owing to the fact that Jarwin had several times patted him with such painful violence as to astonish and render him doubtful of the affection displayed by such caresses. Jarwin also recurred at these times to his tobacco and beer, and apparently suffered a good deal from dreams about those luxuries. In his ravings he often told Cuffy to fill a pipe for him, and advised him to look sharp about it, and he frequently reproached some of his old comrades for not passing the beer. Fortunately the fountain was close at hand, and he often slaked his burning thirst at it. He also thought frequently of the skeleton in the thicket, and sometimes raved with an expression of horror about being left to die alone on a desert island. By degrees the fever reached its climax, and then left him almost dead. For a whole day and night he lay so absolutely helpless that it cost him an effort to open his eyes, and he looked so ill that the poor dog began to whine piteously over him, but the day after that a sensation of hunger induced him to make an effort to rouse up. He tried to raise his head--it felt as if made of lead. "Hallo! Cuffy, somethin' wrong I suspect!" It was the first time for many days that Jarwin had spoken in his natural tones. The effect on the dog was instantaneous and powerful. It sprang up, and wagged its expressive tail with something of the energy of former times; licked the sick man's face and hands; whined and barked intelligently; ran away in little bursts, as if it had resolved to undertake a journey off-hand, but came back in a few seconds, and in many other ways indicated its intense delight at finding that Jarwin was "himself again." But alas! Jarwin was not quite himself yet, and Cuffy, after his first ebullition, sat looking in surprise at the invalid, as he strove to turn on his side, and reach out his heavy hand and skinny arm towards a few scraps of the last meal he had cooked before being struck down. Cuffy, after eating the portion of that meal that suited his taste, had left the remnants there as being unworthy of notice, and catered for himself among the dead fish cast up on the beach. Although lying within a yard of his couch, Jarwin had the greatest difficulty in reaching the food; and when he did at length succeed in grasping it, he fell back on his couch, and lay for a long time as if dead. Soon, however, he recovered, and, with a feeling of gratitude such as he had never before experienced, began to gnaw the hard morsels. "I'm in a bad way, Cuff," he said, after satisfying the first cravings of hunger. Cuffy gave a responsive wag with his tail, and cocked his ears for more. "Hows'ever, seems to me that I've got the turn; let's be thankful for _that_, my doggie. Wonder how long I've bin ill. Months mayhap. Don't think I could have come to be sitch a skeleton in a short time. Ha! that minds me o' the skeleton in the wood. Have 'ee seed it, Cuff, since I found 'ee there? Well, I must eat and drink too, if I would keep the skin on _my_ skeleton. Wish you had hands, doggie, for I'm greatly in need o' help just now. But you're a comfort, anyhow, even though you hain't got no hands. I should have died without you, my doggie--you cheer me up, d'ee see, and when it's nigh low water with a man, it don't take much to make him slip his cable. The want of a kind look at this here time, Cuffy, would have sent me adrift, I do believe." It must not be supposed that all this was spoken fluently. It came slowly, by fits and starts, with a long pause at the end of each sentence, and with many a sigh between, expressive of extreme weakness. "I wish I had a drink, Cuffy," said the invalid after a long pause, turning a longing look towards the spring, which welled up pleasantly close to the opening of the hut. "Ay, that's all very well in its way, but bow-wowin' an' waggin' yer tail won't fetch me a can o' water. Hows'ever, it's o' no manner o' use wishin'. `Never say die.' Here goes." So saying, he began slowly and painfully, but with unyielding perseverance, to push, and draw, and hitch himself, while lying at full length, towards the spring, which he reached at last so exhausted, that he had barely put his lips to it and swallowed a mouthful, when his head dropped, and he almost fainted. He was within an ace of being drowned, but with a violent effort he drew his face out of the spring, and lay there in a half unconscious condition for some time, with the clear cool water playing about his temples. Reviving in a little time, he took another sip, and then crawled back to his couch. Immediately he fell into a profound slumber, from which Cuffy strove in vain to awaken him; therefore, like a sagacious dog, he lay down at his master's side and joined him in repose. From that hour Jarwin began to mend rapidly. In a few days he was able to walk about with the aid of a stick. In a few weeks he felt somewhat like his former self, and soon after that, he was able to ascend to the top of the island, and resume his watch for a passing sail. But the first few hours of his watch beside the old flagstaff convinced him that his hopes would, in all probability, be doomed to disappointment, and that he would soon fall back into a state of apathy, from which he might perhaps be unable to rouse himself, in which case his fate would certainly be that of the poor sailor whose remains he had that day buried in the pit near to which they had been discovered. He resolved, therefore, to give up watching altogether, and to devote all his energies in future to devising some plan of escape from the island, but when he bent his mind to this task he felt a deep sinking of the heart, for he had no implements wherewith to construct a boat or canoe. Suddenly it occurred to him, for the first time in his life, that he ought, in this extremity, to pray to God for help. He was, as we have said, a straightforward man, prompt to act as well as ready to conceive. He fell on his knees at once, humbly confessed his sin in depending so entirely on himself in time past, and earnestly asked help and guidance for the future. His prayer was not long--neither was the publican's-- but it was effectual. He arose with feelings of strong resolution and confidence, which appeared to himself quite unaccountable, for he had not, as yet, conceived any new idea or method as to escaping from the island. Instead of setting his mind to work, as he had intended, he could not help dwelling on the fact that he had never before deliberately asked help from his Maker, and this raised a train of self-condemnatory thoughts which occupied him the remainder of that day. At night he prayed again before laying down to rest. Next morning he rose like a giant refreshed, and, after a plunge in the sea and a hearty breakfast, set out with Cuffy for a meditative walk. Great were the thoughts that swelled the seaman's broad chest during that walk, and numerous, as well as wild and quaint, were the plans of escape which he conceived and found it necessary to abandon. "It's harder work to think it out than I had expected, Cuffy," he said, sitting down on a cliff that overlooked the sea, and thinking aloud. "If you and I could only swim twenty miles or so at a stretch, I'd risk it; but, as nothin' short o' that would be likely to be of sarvice, we must give it up. Then, if I could only cut down trees with my shoe, and saw planks with my jacket, we might make a boat; but I can't do that, and we haven't no nails--except our toe-nails, which ain't the right shape or strong enough; so we must give that up too. It's true that we might burn a canoe out of a solid tree, but who's to cut down the solid tree for us, doggie? I'm sure if the waggin' of a tail could do it you wouldn't be long about it! Why on earth can't 'ee keep it still for a bit? Well, then, as we can't swim or fly, and haven't a boat or canoe, or the means o' makin' em, what's the next thing to be done?" Apparently neither man nor dog could return an answer to that question, for they both sat for a very long time in profound silence, staring at the sea. After some time Jarwin suddenly exclaimed, "I'll do it!" Cuffy, startled by the energy with which it was said, jumped up and said, "That's right!"--or something very like it--with his eyes. "Yes, Cuffy, I'll make a raft, and you and I shall get on it, some day, with a fair wind, and make for the island that we think we've seen so often on the horizon." He alluded here to a faint blue line which, on unusually fine and clear days, he had distinguished on the horizon to the southward, and which, from its always appearing on the same spot, he believed to be land of some sort, although it looked nothing more than a low-lying cloud. "So that's settled," continued Jarwin, getting up and walking smartly back to his hut with the air of a man who has a purpose in view. "We shall make use of the old raft, as far as it'll go. Luckily the sail is left, as you and I know, Cuff, for it has been our blanket for many a day, and when all's ready we shall go huntin', you and I, till we've got together a stock of provisions, and then--up anchor and away! We can only be drownded once, you know, and it's better that than stopping here to die o' the blues. What think 'ee o' that, my doggie?" Whatever the doggie thought of the idea, there can be no question what he thought of the cheery vigorous tones of his master's voice, for he gambolled wildly round, barked with vociferous delight, and wagged his "spanker boom" to such an extent that Jarwin warned him to have a care lest it should be carried away, an' go slap overboard. In pursuance of the designs thus expressed, the sailor began the construction of a raft without delay, and worked at it diligently the remainder of that day. He found, on examination, that a considerable portion of the old raft yet remained stranded on the beach, though all the smaller spars of which it had been composed had been used for firewood. With great difficulty he rolled these logs one by one into the sea, and, getting astride of each, pushed them by means of a pole towards a point of rocks, or natural jetty, alongside of which the water was deep. Here he fastened them together by means of a piece of rope-- one of the old fastenings which remained to him, the others having been used in the construction of the hut. The raft thus formed was, however, much too small to weather a gale or float in a rough sea. In whatever way he placed the spars the structure was too narrow for safety. Seeing, therefore, that it was absolutely necessary to obtain more logs, he set brain and hands to work without delay. Many years before, he had seen an ancient stone hatchet in a museum, the head of which was fastened to the haft by means of a powerful thong of untanned hide. He resolved to make a hatchet of this sort. Long did he search the beach for a suitable stone, but in vain. At last he found one pretty nearly the proper shape, which he chipped and ground into the rude form of an axe. It had no eye for the handle. To have made a hole in it would have weakened the stone too much. He therefore cut a groove in the side of the handle, placed the head of the stone into it, and completed the fastening by tying it firmly with the tough fibrous roots of a tree. It was strongly and neatly made, though clumsy in appearance, but, do what he would, he could not put a sufficiently fine edge on it, and although it chipped pretty well when applied to the outside of a tree, it made very slow progress indeed as the cut deepened, and the work became so toilsome at last that he almost gave it up in despair. Suddenly it occurred to him that fire might be made use of to facilitate the work. Selecting a tall cocoanut-tree, he piled dry wood all round the foot of it. Before setting it on fire he dipped a quantity of cocoanut fibre in the sea and tied a thick belt of this round the tree just above the pile, so as to protect the upper parts of the spar from the flames as much and as long as possible. This done, he kindled the pile. A steady breeze fanned the flame into an intense fire, which ere long dried up the belt of fibre and finally consumed it. The fire was pretty well burnt out by that time, however, so that the upper part of the stem had been effectually preserved. Removing the ashes, he was rejoiced to find that the foot of the tree had been so deeply burned that several inches of it were reduced to charcoal, which his stone hatchet readily cut away, and the operation was so successful that it only required a second fire to enable him to fell the tree. This done, he measured it off in lengths. Under each point of measurement he piled up dry wood--which consisted merely of broken branches--with belts of wet fibre on each side of these piles. Then, applying a light to the fires he reduced the parts to charcoal as before, and completed the work with the hatchet. Thus, in the course of a single day, he felled a tall tree and cut it up into six lengths, which he rolled down to the sea and floated off to the end of the jetty. Next day Jarwin rose with the sun, and began to make twine of twisted cocoanut fibre--of which there was great abundance to be had everywhere. When a sufficient quantity had been made he plaited the twine into cords, and the cords into stout ropes, which, although not so neat as regular ropes, were, nevertheless, sufficiently pliable and very strong. Several days were spent over this somewhat tedious process; and we may mention here, that in all these operations the busy seaman was greatly assisted by his dog, who stuck close to him all the time, encouraging him with looks and wags of approbation. After the ropes were made, the raft was put together and firmly lashed. There was a mast and yard in the centre of it, and also a hollow, formed by the omission of a log, which was just large enough to permit of the man and his dog lying down. This hollow, slight though it was, afterwards proved of the utmost service. It is needless to recount all the details of the building and provisioning of this raft. Suffice it to say that, about three weeks after the idea of it had been conceived, it was completed and ready for sea. During his residence on the island, although it had only extended over a few months, Jarwin had become very expert in the use of a sharp-pointed pole, or javelin, with which he had become quite an adept in spearing fish. He had also become such a dead-shot with a stone that when he managed to get within thirty yards of a bird, he was almost certain to hit it. Thus he was enabled to procure fish and fowl as much as he required and as the woods abounded with cocoa-nuts, plums, and other wild fruits, besides many edible roots, he had no lack of good fare. Now that he was about to "go to sea," he bethought him of drying some of the fruits as well as curing some fish and birds. This he did by degrees, while engaged on the raft, so that when all was ready he had a store of provisions sufficient to last him several weeks. In order to stow all this he removed another log from the middle of the raft, and, having deposited the food in the hollow--carefully wrapped in cocoanut leaves and made into compact bundles--he covered it over by laying a layer of large leaves above it and lashing a small spar on the top of them to keep them down. The cask with which he had landed from the original raft, and which he had preserved with great care, not knowing how soon he might be in circumstances to require it, served to hold fresh water. On a fine morning about sunrise, Jarwin embarked with his little dog and bade farewell to the coral island, and although he had not dwelt very long there, he felt, to his own surprise, much regret at quitting it. A fresh breeze was blowing in the direction of the island--or the supposed island--he wished to reach. This was important, because, in such a craft, it was impossible to sail in any way except before the wind. Still, by means of a rude oar or paddle, he could modify its direction so as to steer clear of the passage through the reef and get out to sea. Once outside, he squared the sail and ran right before the breeze. Of course such a weighty craft went very slowly through the water, but the wind was pretty strong, and to Jarwin, who had been for a comparatively long time unaccustomed to moving on the water, the speed seemed fast enough. As the island went astern, and the raft lifted and fell gently on the long swell of the ocean, the seaman's heart beat with a peculiar joy to which it had long been a stranger, and he thanked God fervently for having so soon answered his prayer. For a long time he sat reclining in the hollow of the raft, resting his hand lightly on the steering oar and gazing in silence at the gradually fading woods of his late home. The dog, as if it were aware that a great change was being effected in their destiny, lay also perfectly still--and apparently contemplative--at his master's feet; resting his chin on a log and gazing at the receding land. It was evident, however, that _his_ thoughts were not absent or wandering, for, on the slightest motion made by his master, his dark eyes turned towards him, his ears slightly rose, and his tail gave the faintest possible indication of an intention to wag. "Well, Cuffy," said Jarwin at last, rousing himself with a sigh, "wot are 'ee thinking of?" The dog instantly rose, made affectionate demonstrations, and whined. "Ah, you may well say that, Cuff," replied the man; "I know you ain't easy in yer mind, and there's some reason in that, too, for we're off on a raither uncertain viage, in a somewhat unseaworthy craft. Howsever, cheer up, doggie. Whoever turns up, you and I shall sink or swim together." Just then the sail flapped. "Hallo! Cuff," exclaimed Jarwin, with a look of anxiety, "the wind's going to shift." This was true. The wind did shift, and in a few minutes had veered so much round that the raft was carried away from the blue line on the horizon, which Jarwin had so fondly hoped would turn out to be an inhabited island. It blew lightly, however, and when the sun went down, had completely died away. In these circumstances Jarwin and his dog supped together, and then lay down to rest, full of sanguine hope. They were awakened during the night by a violent squall, which, however, did no further damage than wash a little spray over them, for Jarwin had taken the precaution to lower and make fast the sail. He now turned his attention to preparing the raft for rough weather. This consisted in simply drawing over the hollow--in which he, his dog, and his provisions lay--a piece of canvas that he had cut off the sail, which was unnecessarily large. It served as a tarpaulin, and effectually shielded them from ordinary sprays, but when the breeze freshened to a gale, and green seas swept over the _raft_, it leaked so badly, that Jarwin's cabin became a salt-water bath, and his provisions by degrees were soaked. At first he did not mind this much, for the air and water were sufficiently warm, but after being wet for several hours he began feel chilled. As for poor Cuffy, his trembling body bore testimony to the state of his feelings; nevertheless he did not complain, being a dog of high spirit and endurance. In these circumstances the seaman hailed the rising sun with great joy, even although it rose in the midst of lurid murky clouds, and very soon hid its face altogether behind them, as if it had made up its mind that the state of things below was so bad as to be not worth shining upon. All that day and night the gale continued, and they were driven before it. The waves rushed so continuously and furiously over the raft, that it was with the utmost difficulty Jarwin could retain his position on it. Indeed it would have been impossible for him to have done so, if he had not taken the precaution of making the hollow in the centre, into which he could crouch, and thus avoid the full force of the seas. Next day the wind abated a little, but the sea still rolled "mountains high." In order to break their force a little, he ventured to show a little corner of the sail. Small though it was, it almost carried away the slender mast, and drove the raft along at a wonderfully rapid rate. At last the gale went down, and, finally, it became a dead calm, leaving the raft like a cork heaving on the mighty swell of the Pacific Ocean. Weary and worn--almost dead with watching and exposure--John Jarwin lay down and slept, but his slumber was uneasy and unrefreshing. Sunrise awoke him, and he sat up with a feeling of deep thankfulness, as he basked once more in its warm rays and observed that the sky above him was bright blue. But other feelings mingled with these when he gazed round on the wide waste of water, which still heaved its swelling though now unruffled breast, as if panting after its recent burst of fury. "Ho! Cuffy--what's that? Not a sail, eh?" exclaimed Jarwin, suddenly starting up, while his languid eyes kindled with excitement. He was right. After a long, earnest, anxious gaze, he came to the conclusion that it _was_ a sail which shone, white and conspicuous, like a speck or a snow-flake on the horizon. CHAPTER FIVE. JARWIN AND CUFFY FALL INTO BAD COMPANY. Immediately on discovering the sail, Jarwin hoisted a small canvas flag, which he had prepared for the purpose, to the mast-head, and then sat down to watch with indescribable earnestness the motions of the vessel. There was great cause for anxiety he well knew, because his raft was a mere speck on the great waste of waters which might easily be overlooked even by a vessel passing at a comparatively short distance, and if the vessel's course should happen to lie across that of the raft, there was every probability she would only be visible for a short time and then pass away like a ray of hope dying out. After gazing in perfect silence for half-an-hour, Jarwin heaved a deep sigh and said-- "She steers this way, Cuffy." Cuffy acknowledged the remark with a little whine and a very slight wag of his tail. It was evident that his spirits had sunk to a low ebb, and that he was not prepared to derive comfort from every trifling circumstance. "Come, we'll have a bit of summat to eat, my doggie," said the sailor, reaching forward his hand to the provision bundle. Thoroughly understanding and appreciating this remark, Cuffy roused himself and looked on with profound interest, while his master cut up a dried fish. Having received a large share of it, he forgot everything else, and devoted all his powers, physical and mental, to the business in hand. Although Jarwin also applied himself to the food with the devotion of a man whose appetite is sharp, and whose strength needs recruiting, he was very far indeed from forgetting other things. He kept his eyes the whole time on the approaching sail, and once or twice became so absorbed and so anxious lest the vessel should change her course, that he remained with his mouth half open, and with the unconsumed morsel reposing therein for a minute or more at a time. But the vessel did not change her course. On she came; a fine large schooner with raking masts, and so trim and neat in her rig that she resembled a pleasure-yacht. As she drew near, Jarwin rose, and holding on to the mast, waved a piece of canvas, while Cuffy, who felt that there was now really good ground for rejoicing, wagged his tail and barked in an imbecile fashion, as if he didn't exactly know whether to laugh or cry. "We're all safe now, doggie," exclaimed Jarwin, as the schooner came cutting through the water before a light breeze, leaving a slight track of foam in her wake. When within about two or three hundred yards of the raft, the castaway could see that a figure leant on the vessel's side and brought a telescope to bear on him. With a feeling of irrepressible gladness he laughed and waved his hand. "Ay, ay, take a good squint," he shouted, "an' then lower a boat--eh!--" He stopped abruptly, for at that moment the figure turned towards the steersman; the schooner's head fell away, presenting her stern to the raft, and began to leave her behind. The truth flashed upon Jarwin like a thunderbolt. It was clear that the commander of the strange vessel had no intention of relieving him. In the first burst of mingled despair and indignation, the seaman uttered a bass roar of defiance that might have done credit to the lungs of a small carronade, and at the same time shook his fist at the retiring schooner. The effect of this was as sudden as it was unexpected. To his surprise he observed that the schooner's head was immediately thrown up into the wind, and all her sails shook for a few moments, then, filling out again, the vessel bent gracefully over on the other tack. With returning joy the castaway saw her run straight towards him. In a few minutes she was alongside, and her topsails were backed. "Look out! catch hold!" cried a gruff voice, as a sailor sent a coil of rope whirling over the raft. Jarwin caught it, took a turn round the mast, and held on. In a minute the raft was alongside. Weak though he was, Jarwin retained enough of his sailor-like activity to enable him to seize a rope and swing himself on board with Cuffy in his arms. He found himself on the pure white deck of a craft which was so well appointed and so well kept, that his first impressions were revived-- namely, that she was a pleasure-yacht. He knew that she was not a vessel of war, because, besides the absence of many little things that mark such a vessel, the few men on deck were not clothed like man-of-war's-men, and there was no sign of guns, with the exception of one little brass carronade, which was probably used as a signal-gun. A tall stout man, in plain costume, which was neither quite that of a seaman nor a landsman, stood with his arms crossed on his broad chest near the man at the wheel. To him, judging him to be the captain or owner of the vessel, Jarwin went up, and, pulling his forelock by way of salutation, said-- "Why, sir, I thought 'ee was a-goin' to leave me!" "So I was," answered the captain, drily. "Hold on to the raft," he added, turning to the man who had thrown the rope to Jarwin. "Well, sir," said the latter in some surprise, "in course I don't know why you wos a-goin' to leave a feller-creetur to his fate, but I'm glad you didn't go for to do it, 'cos it wouldn't have bin Christian-like. But I'm bound for to thank 'ee, sir, all the same for havin' saved me-- and Cuffy." "Don't be too free with your thanks, my good man," returned the captain, "for you're not saved, as you call it, yet." "Not saved yet?" repeated Jarwin. "No. Whether I save you or not depends on your keeping a civil tongue in your head, and on your answers to my questions." The captain interlarded his speech with many oaths, which, of course, we omit. This, coupled with his rude manners, induced Jarwin to suspect that the vessel was not a pleasure-yacht after all, so he wisely held his peace. "Where do you belong to?" demanded the captain. "To Yarmouth, sir." "What ship did you sail in, what has come of her, and how came you to be cast adrift?" "I sailed in the _Nancy_, sir, from Plymouth, with a miscellaneous cargo for China. She sprung a leak in a gale, and we was 'bliged to make a raft, the boats bein' all stove in or washed away. It was barely ready when the ship went down starn foremost. Durin' the gale all my mates were washed off the raft or died of exposure; only me and my dog left." "How long ago was that?" asked the captain. "Couldn't rightly say, sir, I've lost count o' time, but it's more than a year gone by anyhow." "That's a lie," said the captain, with an oath. "No, 'taint, sir," replied Jarwin, reddening, "it's a truth. I was nigh starved on that raft, but was cast on an island where I've bin till a few days ago ever since, when I put to sea on the raft that now lays a-starn there." For a few seconds the captain made no rejoinder, but a glance at the raft seemed to satisfy him of the truth of what was said. At length he said abruptly-- "What's your name?" "John Jarwin, sir." "Well, John Jarwin, I'll save you on one condition, which is, that you become one of my crew, and agree to do my bidding and ask no questions. What say you?" Jarwin hesitated. "Haul up the raft and let this man get aboard of it," said the captain, coolly but sternly, to the seaman who held the rope. "You've no occasion to be so sharp, sir," said John, remonstratively. "If you wos to tell me to cut my own throat, you know, I could scarce be expected for to do it without puttin' a few questions as to the reason why. You're a trader, I suppose?" "Yes, I'm a trader," replied the captain, "but I don't choose to be questioned by you. All you've got to do is to agree to my proposal or to walk over the side. To tell you the truth, when I saw you first through the glass, you looked such a starved wretch that I thought you'd be of no use to me, and if it hadn't been for the yell you gave, that showed there was something in you still, I'd have left you to sink or swim. So you see what sort of man you've got to deal with. I'm short-handed, but not so short as to engage an unwilling man, or a man who wouldn't be ready for any sort of dirty work. You may take your choice." "Well, sir," replied Jarwin, "I've no objection to take service with 'ee. As the sayin' goes, `beggars mustn't be choosers.' I ain't above doin' dirty work, if required." John Jarwin, in the simplicity of his heart, imagined that the captain was in need of a man who could and would turn his hand to any sort of work, whether nautical or otherwise, on board ship or ashore, which was his idea of "dirty work;" but the captain appeared to understand him in a different sense, for he smiled in a grim fashion, nodded his head, and, turning to the seaman before mentioned, bade him cut the raft adrift. The man obeyed, and in a few minutes it was out of sight astern. "Now, Jarwin, go below," said the captain; "Isaacs will introduce you to your messmates." Isaacs, who had just cut away the raft, was a short, thick-set man, with a dark, expressionless face. He went forward without saying a word, and introduced Jarwin to the men as a "new 'and." "And a green un, I s'pose; give us your flipper, lad," said one of the crew, holding out his hand. Jarwin shook it, took off his cap and sat down, while his new friends began, as they expressed it, to pump him. Having no objection to be pumped, he had soon related the whole of his recent history. In the course of the narrative he discovered that his new associates were an unusually rough set. Their language was interspersed with frightful oaths, and their references to the captain showed that his power over them was certainly not founded on goodwill or affection. Jarwin also discovered that the freeness of his communication was not reciprocated by his new mates, for when he made inquiries as to the nature of the trade in which they were engaged, some of the men merely replied with uproarious laughter, chaff, or curses, while others made jocular allusions to sandal-wood trading, slaving, etcetera. "I shouldn't wonder now," said one, "if you was to think we was pirates." Jarwin smiled as he replied, "Well, I don't exactly think _that_, but I'm bound for to say the schooner _has_ got such a rakish look that it wouldn't seem unnatural like if you _were_ to hoist a black flag at the peak. An' you'll excuse me, shipmets, if I say that yer lingo ain't just so polished as it might be." "And pray who are _you_, that comes here to lecture us about our lingo?" cried one of the men fiercely, starting up and confronting Jarwin with clenched fists. "Why, mate," replied Jarwin, quietly folding back the cuffs of his coat, and putting himself in an attitude of defence, "I ain't nobody in partikler, not the Lord Chancellor o' England, anyhow still less the Archbishop of Canterbury. I'm only plain Jack Jarwin, seaman, but if you or any other man thinks--" "Come, come," cried one of the men in a tone of authority, starting forward and thrusting Jarwin's assailant violently aside, "none o' that sort o' thing here. Keep your fists for the niggers, Bill, we're all brothers here, you know; an affectionate family, so to speak!" There was a general laugh at this. Bill retired sulkily, and Jarwin sat down to a plate of hot "lob-scouse," which proved to be very good, and of which he stood much in need. For several days our hero was left very much to himself. The schooner sped on her voyage with a fair wind, and the men were employed in light work, or idled about the deck. No one interfered with Jarwin, but at the same time no one became communicative. The captain was a very silent man, and it was evident that the crew stood much in awe of him. Of course Jarwin's suspicions as to the nature of the craft were increased by all this, and from some remarks which he overheard two or three days after his coming on board, he felt convinced that he had fallen into bad company. Before a week had passed, this became so evident that he made up his mind to leave the vessel at the very first opportunity. One day he went boldly to the captain and demanded to know the nature of the trade in which the schooner was employed and their present destination. He was told that that was no business of his, that he had better go forward and mind his duty without more ado, else he should be pitched overboard. The captain used such forcible language when he said this, and seemed so thoroughly in earnest, that Jarwin felt no longer any doubt as to his true character. "I'll tell you what it is, my lad," said the captain, "my schooner is a trader or a man-of-war according to circumstances, and I'm a free man, going where I choose and doing what I please. I treat my men well when they do their duty; when they don't I make 'em walk the plank. No doubt you know what that means. If you don't we shall soon teach you. Take to-night to think over it. To-morrow morning I'll have a question or two to ask you. There--go!" Jarwin bowed submissively and retired. That night the moon shone full and clear on the wide ocean's breast, and Jarwin stood at the bow of the schooner, looking sadly over the side, and patting his little dog gently on the head. "Cuffy, you and me's in a fix, I suspect," he murmured in a low tone; "but cheer up, doggie, a way to escape will turn up no doubt." He had scarcely uttered the words when his eye fell on the distant outline of land on the lee bow. He started, and gazed with fixed intensity for some minutes, under the impression that it might perhaps be a fog-bank lighted by the moon, but in a short time it became so distinct that there could be no doubt it was land. He pointed it out to the watch on deck, one of whom said carelessly that he had seen it for some time, and that there were plenty more islands of the same sort in these seas. Jarwin walked aft and stood near the lee gangway contemplating the island in silence for some time. A small oar lay at his feet. Suddenly he conceived the daring idea of seizing this, plunging overboard and attempting to swim to land. He was a splendid swimmer, and although the island appeared to be more than two miles distant, he did not fear failure. A moment's reflection, however, convinced him that the men on deck would certainly hear the plunge, heave the ship to, and lower a boat, in which case he should be immediately overtaken. Still, being resolved to escape at all hazards, he determined to make the venture. Fastening a rope to a belaying pin, he tied the oar to it and lowered it over the side until it trailed in the water, he then lifted Cuffy, who was almost always near him, on to the side of the vessel, with a whisper to keep still. The watch paced the weather side of the deck conversing in low tones. The steersman could, from his position, see both gangways, and although the light was not strong enough to reveal what Jarwin was about, it was too strong to admit of his going bodily over the side without being observed. He, therefore, walked slowly to the head of the vessel, where he threw over the end of a small rope. By means of this, when the watch were well aft, he slid noiselessly into the sea, hanging on by one hand and supporting Cuffy with the other. Once fairly in the water he let go, the side of the vessel rubbed swiftly past him, and he all but missed grasping the oar which trailed at the gangway. By this he held on for a few seconds to untie the rope. He had just succeeded and was about to let go, when, unfortunately, the handle of the oar chanced to hit the end of Cuffy's nose a severe blow. The poor dog, therefore, gave vent to a loud yell of pain. Instantly Jarwin allowed himself to sink and held his breath as long as he possibly could, while Cuffy whined and swam on the surface. Meanwhile the men on deck ran to the side. "Hallo!" cried one, "it's Jarwin's little dog gone overboard." "Let it go," cried another with a laugh; "it's a useless brute and eats a power o' grub." "I say, wot a splashin' it do kick up," he added as the little dog was left astern making vain efforts to clamber on the oar. "Why, lads, there's somethin' else floatin' beside it, uncommon like a seal. Are 'ee sure, Bill, that Jarwin hasn't gone overboard along with his dog?" "Why no," replied Bill; "I seed him go forward a little ago; besides it ain't likely he'd go over without givin' a shout." "I dun know that," said the other; "he might have hit his head again' somethin' in tumblin' over." By this time the objects in question were almost out of sight astern. In a few minutes more a dark cloud covered the moon and effectually shut them out from view. Just then the Captain came on deck, and asked what was wrong. "Fools!" he exclaimed, in a voice of thunder, on being told, "lower the gig. Look sharp! Don't you see the land, you idiots? The man's away as well as the dog." In a few seconds the topsails were backed and the boat lowered, manned, and pushed off. But Jarwin heard and saw nothing of all this. He was now far astern, for the vessel had been going rapidly through the water. On coming to the surface after his dive he caught hold of Cuffy, and, with a cheering word or two, placed him on his back, telling him to hold on by his paws the best way he could. Then grasping the end of the oar, and pointing the blade land-wards, he struck out vigorously with his legs. It was a long and weary swim, but as his life depended on it, the seaman persevered. When he felt his strength giving way, he raised not only his heart but his voice in prayer to God, and felt restored each time that he did so. Just as he neared the shore, the sound of oars broke on his ears, and presently he heard the well-known voice of the Captain ordering the men to pull hard. Fortunately it was by this time very dark. He landed without being discerned. The surf was heavy, but he was expert in rough water, went in on the top of a billow, and was safely launched on a soft sandy beach, almost at the same moment with the boat. The latter was, however, at a considerable distance from him. He crept cautiously up the shore until he gained a thicket, and then, rising, he plunged into the woods and ran straight before him until he was exhausted, carrying the little dog in his arms. Many a fall and bruise did the poor fellow receive in his progress, but the fear of being retaken by the pirates--for such he felt convinced they were--lent him wings. The Captain and his men made a long search, but finally gave it up, and, returning to the boat, pushed off. Jarwin never saw them again. He and Cuffy lay where they had fallen, and slept, wet though they were, till the sun was high. They were still sleeping when a native chief of the island, happening to pass along the beach, discerned Jarwin's footsteps and traced him out. This chief was an immensely large powerful man, armed with a heavy club. He awoke the sailor with a kick, and spoke in a language which he did not understand. His gestures, however, said plainly enough, "Get up and come along with me," so Jarwin thought it best to obey. Of course whatever Jarwin thought, Cuffy was of precisely the same opinion. They therefore quietly got up and followed the big chief to his village, where they were received by a large concourse of savages with much excitement and curiosity. CHAPTER SIX. OUR HERO BECOMES A FAVOURITE, AND ENTERTAINS HOPES OF ESCAPE. The sufferings which Jarwin with his little dog had hitherto undergone were as nothing compared to those which he endured for some months after being taken prisoner by the savages. At first he gave himself up for lost, feeling assured that ere long he would be sacrificed in the temple of one of their idols, and then baked in an oven and consumed as food, according to the horrible practice of the South-Sea Islanders. Indeed he began to be much astonished that, as day after day passed, there was no sign of any intention to treat him in this way, although several times the natives took him out of the hut in which he was imprisoned, and, placing him in the centre of a circle, held excited and sometimes angry discussions over him. It was not till months afterwards, when he had acquired a slight knowledge of their language, that he came to understand why he was spared at this time. It appeared that four shipwrecked sailors, who had been cast on a neighbouring island, had been killed, baked, and eaten, according to usage, by the chief and his friends. Immediately afterwards, those who had partaken of this dreadful food had been seized with severe illness, and one or two had died. This fact had been known for some time to Jarwin's captors, and the discussions above referred to had been engaged in with reference to the question whether it was likely that the flesh of the white man who had been thrown on their island would be likely to disagree with their stomachs! It was agreed that this was highly probable, and thus the seaman's life was spared; but he was sometimes tempted to wish that it had not been spared, for his master, the Big Chief, was a very hard man; he put him to the most toilsome labour, and treated him with every sort of indignity. Moreover, he was compelled to be a witness of practices so revolting and cruel, that he often put the question to himself whether it was possible for devils to display greater wickedness and depravity than these people. Jarwin was frequently tempted to resent the treatment he received, but, fortunately, he was prudent enough to bear it submissively, for it is certain that if he had rebelled he would have been slain on the spot. Moreover, he set himself to carry out his favourite maxim--namely, that it was wise in all circumstances to make the best of everything. He laboured, therefore, with such goodwill, that he softened the breast of the Big Chief, who gradually became more amiable, and even indulgent to him. Thus he came to know experimentally the wisdom of that Scripture, "Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good." John Jarwin possessed a remarkably fine sonorous bass voice, which, in former days, had been a source of great delight to his messmates. Although strong and deep, it was very sweet and tender in its tones, and eminently suited for pathetic and sentimental songs. Indeed Jarwin's nature was so earnest, that although he had a great deal of quiet humour about him, and could enjoy comic songs very much, he never himself sang anything humorous. Now, it chanced that the Big Chief had a good ear for music, and soon became so fond of the songs which his slave was wont to hum when at work, that he used to make him sit down beside him frequently and sing for hours at a time! Fortunately, Jarwin's lungs were powerful, and his voice being full-toned and loud, he was able to sing as much as his master desired without much exertion. He gave him his whole budget which was pretty extensive--including melodies of the "Black-eyed Susan" and "Ben Bolt" stamp. When these had been sung over and over again, he took to the Psalms and Paraphrases--many of which he knew by heart, and, finally, he had recourse to extempore composition, which he found much easier than he had expected--the tones flowing naturally and the words being gibberish! Thus he became a sort of David to this remarkable Saul. By degrees, as he learnt the native tongue, he held long conversations with the Big Chief, and told him about his own land and countrymen and religion. In regard to the last the Chief was very inquisitive, and informed his slave that white men had been for some time in that region, trying to teach their religion to the men of an island which, though invisible from his island, was not very far distant. Jarwin said little about this, but from that time he began to hope that, through the missionaries, he might be able to make his escape ere long. During all this time poor Cuffy experienced a variety of vicissitudes, and made several narrow escapes. At first he had been caught and was on the point of being killed and roasted, when he wriggled out of his captor's grasp and made off to the mountains, terrorstruck! Here he dwelt for some weeks in profound melancholy. Being unable to stand separation from his master any longer, he ventured to return to the village, but was immediately hunted out of it, and once again fled in horror to the hills. Jarwin was not allowed to quit the village alone, he therefore never saw his little dog, and at length came to the conclusion that it had been killed. When, however, he had ingratiated himself with his master, he was allowed more freedom, and one day, having wandered a considerable distance into the mountains, he came suddenly and unexpectedly upon Cuffy. Having experienced nothing from man of late but the most violent and cruel treatment, Cuffy no sooner beheld, as he supposed, one of his enemies, than, without giving him a second glance, he sprang up, put his ears back, his tail between his legs, and, uttering a terrible yell, fled "on the wings of terror!" But Jarwin put two fingers in his mouth and gave a peculiarly shrill whistle, which brought the dog to a sudden stop. He looked back with ears cocked. Again Jarwin whistled. Instantly Cuffy turned and ran at him with a series of mingled yells, whines, and barks, that gave but a faint idea of his tumultuous feelings. It would scarcely be too much to say that he almost ate his master up. He became like an india-rubber ball gone mad! He bounded round him to such an extent that Jarwin found it very difficult to get hold of or pat him. It is impossible to do justice to such a meeting. We draw a veil over it, only remarking that the sailor took his old favourite back to the village, and, after much entreaty and a good deal of persuasive song, was permitted to keep him. About ten months after this event, war broke out between the Big Chief and a neighbouring tribe of natives, who were a very quarrelsome and vindictive set. The tribe with whom Jarwin dwelt would gladly have lived at peace, but the other tribe was stronger in numbers and thirsted for conquest--a consequence of strength which is by no means confined to savages! When war was formally declared, the Big Chief told Jarwin to prepare himself for battle. At first our hero had some qualms of conscience about it, but on reflecting that on the part of the tribe to which he belonged it was a war of self-defence, his conscience was pacified. The Big Chief ordered him to throw away his now ragged garments, smear his whole body over with oil and red earth, paint black spots on his cheeks, and a white streak down his nose, and put on warrior's costume. In vain Jarwin begged and protested and sang. The Big Chief's blood was up, and his commands must be obeyed, therefore Jarwin did as he was bid; went out to battle in this remarkable costume--if we may so style it-- and proved himself such a prodigy of valour that his prowess went far to turn the tide of victory wherever he appeared during the fight. But we pass over all this. Suffice it to say, that the pugnacious tribe was severely chastised and reduced to a state of quiet--for the time at least. One day, not long after the cessation of the war, a canoe arrived with several natives, all of whom wore clothing of a much more civilised description than is usually seen among South-Sea savages. They had a long, earnest talk with the natives, but Jarwin was not allowed to hear it, or to show himself. Next day they went away. For some time after that Big Chief was very thoughtful, but silent, and Jarwin could not induce him to become confidential until he had sung all his melodies and all his psalms several times over, and had indulged in extempore melody and gibberish until his brain and throat were alike exhausted. The Big Chief gave way at last, however, and told him that his late visitors were Christians, who, with two native teachers, had been sent from a distant island by a white chief named Williams, to try and persuade him and his people to burn their idols. "And are 'ee goin' to do it?" asked Jarwin. "No," replied the Chief, "but I am going to Raratonga to see Cookee Williams." Of course they conversed in the native tongue, but as this would be unintelligible to the reader, we translate. It may also be remarked here that "Cookee" signified a white man, and is a word derived from the visit of that great navigator Captain Cook to these islands, by the natives of which he was ultimately murdered. Jarwin had heard, while in England, of the missionary Williams. On learning that he was among the islands, his heart beat high, and he begged earnestly that he might be allowed to go with the chief and his party to Raratonga, but his wily master would not consent "You will run away!" he said. "No, I won't," said Jarwin, earnestly. Big Chief shook his head. "They will take you from me," he said, "when they find out who you are." "I'll not let 'em," replied Jarwin, with pathetic sincerity, and then began to sing in such a touching strain, that his master lay back on his couch and rolled his large eyes in rapture. "You shall go, Jowin," (that was the best he could make of the name), "if you will make me a promise." "Name it, old boy," said Jarwin. "That you will go dressed like one of my young men, and never open your lips to speak a word, no more than if you were dumb, whether the Cookees speak to you or not." Jarwin hesitated, but reflecting that there was no chance of his seeing the missionary at all if he did not give this promise, he consented. A week after that all the preparations were made, and four large canoes, full of well-armed men, set out for Raratonga. At the time we write of, the island of Raratonga had been recently discovered by the missionary Williams. The success of the labours of that devoted man and his native teachers, is one of the most marvellous chapters in the history of the isles of the Pacific. At Raratonga, God seemed to have prepared the way for the introduction of the Gospel in a wonderful manner, for although the native teachers who first went ashore there were roughly handled, they were enabled, nevertheless, to persevere, and in not much more than a single year, the Gospel wrought a change in the feelings and habits of the people, which was little short of miraculous. Within that brief period they had given up and burnt all their idols, had ceased to practise their bloody and horrible rites, and had embraced Christianity--giving full proof of their sincerity by submitting to a code of laws founded on Scripture, by agreeing to abandon polygamy, by building a large place of worship, and by leading comparatively virtuous and peaceful lives. And all this was begun and carried on for a considerable time, not by the European missionaries but by two of the devoted native teachers, who had previously embraced Christianity. The extent of the change thus wrought in the Raratongans in so short a time by the Gospel, may be estimated by a glance at the difficulties with which the missionaries had to contend. In writing of the ancient usages of the people, Mr Williams, [See Williams' most interesting work, entitled "A Narrative of Missionary Enterprises in the South-Sea Islands"], tells us that one of their customs was an unnatural practice called _Kukumi anga_. As soon as a son reached manhood, he would fight and wrestle with his father for the mastery, and if he obtained it, would take forcible possession of the farm belonging to his parent, whom he drove in a state of destitution from his home. Another custom was equally unnatural and inhuman. When a woman lost her husband, the relatives of the latter, instead of paying visits of kindness to the fatherless and widow in their affliction, would seize every article of value belonging to the deceased, turn the disconsolate mother and her children away, and possess themselves of the house, food, and land. But they had another custom which caused still greater difficulties to the missionaries. It was called "land-eating"--in other words, the getting possession of each other's lands unjustly, and these, once obtained, were held with the greatest possible tenacity, for land was exceedingly valuable at Raratonga, and on no subject were the contentions of the people more frequent or fierce. From this it will be seen that the Raratongans were apparently a most unpromising soil in which to plant the "good seed," for there is scarcely another race of people on earth so depraved and unnatural as they seem to have been. Nevertheless, God's blessed Word overcame these deep-rooted prejudices, and put an end to these and many other horrible practices in little more than a year. After this glorious work had been accomplished, the energetic missionary--who ultimately laid down his life in one of these islands [_The Island of Erramanga_] for the sake of Jesus Christ--resolved to go himself in search of other islands in which to plant the Gospel, and to send out native teachers with the same end in view. The record of their labours reads more like a romance than a reality, but we cannot afford to diverge longer from the course of our narrative. It was one of these searching parties of native teachers that had visited the Big Chief's island as already described, and it was their glowing words and representations that had induced him to undertake this voyage to Raratonga. Big Chief of course occupied the largest of the four canoes, and our friend Jarwin sat on a seat in front of him--painted and decorated like a native warrior, and wielding a paddle like the rest. Of course Cuffy had been left behind. Poor Jarwin had, during his captivity, undergone the process of being tatooed from head to foot. It had taken several months to accomplish and had cost him inexpressible torture, owing to the innumerable punctures made by the comb-like instrument with which it was done on the inflamed muscles of his body. By dint of earnest entreaty and much song, he had prevailed on Big Chief to leave his face and hands untouched. It is doubtful if he would have succeeded in this, despite the witching power of his melodious voice, had he not at the same time offered to paint his own face in imitation of tatooing, and accomplished the feat to such perfection that his delighted master insisted on having his own painted forthwith in the same style. During a pause in their progress, while the paddlers were resting, Big Chief made his captive sit near him. "You tell me that Cookee-men" (by which he meant white men) "never lie, never deceive." "I shud lie an' deceive myself, if I said so," replied Jarwin, bluntly. "What did you tell me, then?" asked the Chief, with a frown. "I told you that _Christian_ men don't lie or deceive--leastwise they don't do it with a will." "Are _you_ a Christian man, Jowin?" "I am," replied the sailor promptly. Then with a somewhat perplexed air, "Anyhow I _hope_ I am, an' I try to act as sitch." "Good, I will soon prove it. You will be near the Cookee-men of Raratonga to-morrow. You will have chance to go with them and leave me; but if you do, or if you speak one word of Cookee-tongue--you are _not_ Christian. Moreover, I will batter your skull with my club, till it is like the soft pulp of the bread-fruit." "You're a cute fellar, as the Yankees say," remarked Jarwin, with a slight smile. This being said in English, the Chief took no notice of it, but glanced at his slave suspiciously. "Big Chief," said Jarwin, after a short silence, "even before I was a Christian, I had been taught by my mother to be ashamed of telling a lie, so you've no occasion for to doubt me. But it's a hard thing to stand by a countryman, specially in my pecooliar circumstances, an' not let him know that you can speak to him. May I not be allowed to palaver a bit with 'em? I wont ask 'em to take me from you." "No," said the Chief sternly. "You came with me promising that you would not even speak to the Cookee-men." "Well, Big Chief," replied Jarwin, energetically, "you shall see that a British seaman can stick to his promise. I'll be true to you. Honour bright. I'll not give 'em a word of the English lingo if they was to try to tear it out o' me wi' red hot pincers. I'll content myself wi' lookin' at 'em and listenin' to 'em. It'll be a comfort to hear my mother-tongue, anyhow." "Good," replied the Chief, "I trust you." The interval of rest coming to an end at this point, the conversation ceased and the paddles were resumed. It was a magnificent day. The great Pacific was in that condition of perfect repose which its name suggests. Not a breath of air ruffled the wide sheet of water, which lay spread out like a vast circular looking-glass to reflect the sky, and it did reflect the sky with such perfect fidelity, that the clouds and cloudlets in the deep were exact counterparts of those that floated in the air, while the four canoes, resting on their own reflections, seemed to be suspended in the centre of a crystal world, which was dazzlingly lit up by two resplendent suns. This condition of calm lasted the whole of that day and night, and the heat was very great; nevertheless the warriors--of whom there were from forty to fifty in each canoe--did not cease to paddle for an instant, save when the short spells of rest came round, and when, twice during the day, they stopped to eat a hasty meal. When the sun set they still continued to paddle onwards, the only difference being that instead of passing over a sea of crystal, they appeared to traverse an ocean of amber and burnished gold. All night they continued their labours. About daybreak the Chief permitted them to enjoy a somewhat longer period of rest, during which most of them, without lying down, indulged in a short but refreshing nap. Resuming the paddles, they proceeded until sunrise, when their hearts were gladdened by the sight of the blue hills of Raratonga on the bright horizon. "Now we shall soon be at the end of our voyage," said the Chief, as he pointed to the distant hills, and glanced at Jarwin as he might at a prize which he was much afraid of losing. "Remember the promise, you Christian. Don't be a deceiver, you `Breetish tar!'" (He quoted Jarwin here.) "Honour bright!" replied our hero. The savage gazed earnestly into the sailor's bright eyes, and appeared to think that if his honour was as bright as they were, there was not much cause to fear. At all events he looked pleased, nodded his head, and said "Good," with considerable emphasis. By this time the hills of Raratonga were beginning to look less like blue clouds and more like real mountains; gradually as the canoes drew nearer, the markings on them became more and more defined, until at last everything was distinctly visible--rocky eminences and luxuriant valleys, through which flowed streams and rivulets that glittered brightly in the light of the ascending sun, and almost constrained Jarwin to shout with delight, for he gazed upon a scene more lovely by far than anything that he had yet beheld in the Southern Seas. CHAPTER SEVEN. OUR HERO IS EXPOSED TO STIRRING INFLUENCES AND TRYING CIRCUMSTANCES. When the four canoes drew near to the island, immense numbers of natives were seen to assemble on the beach, so that Big Chief deemed it advisable to advance with caution. Presently a solitary figure, either dressed or painted black, advanced in front of the others and waved a white flag. This seemed to increase the Chief's anxiety, for he ordered the men to cease paddling. Jarwin, whose heart had leaped with delight when he saw the dark figure and the white flag, immediately turned round and said-- "You needn't be afraid, old boy; that's the missionary, I'll be bound, in his black toggery, an' a white flag means `peace' among Cookee men." On hearing this, the Chief gave the order to advance, and Jarwin, seizing a piece of native cloth that lay near him, waved it round his head. "Stop that, you Breetish tar!" growled Big Chief, seizing a huge club, which bristled with shark's teeth, and shaking it at the seaman, while his own teeth were displayed in a threatening grin. "All right, old codger," replied the British tar, with a submissive look; "honour bright, honour bright," he added several times, in a low tone, as if to keep himself in mind of his promise. We have already said that our hero and his master talked in the native tongue, which the former had acquired with wonderful facility, but such familiar expressions as "old boy," "old codger," etcetera, were necessarily uttered in English. Fortunately for Jarwin, who was by nature free-and-easy, the savage chief imagined these to be terms of respect, and was, consequently, rather pleased to hear them. Similarly, Big Chief said "Breetish tar" and "Christian" in English, as he had learned them from his captive. When master and slave began to grow fond of each other--as we have seen that they soon did, their manly natures being congenial--they used these expressions more frequently: Jarwin meaning to express facetious goodwill, but his master desiring to express kindly regard, except when he was roused to anger, in which case he did not, however, use them contemptuously, but as expressive of earnest solemnity. On landing, Big Chief and his warriors were received by the Reverend Mr Williams and his native teachers--of whom there were two men and two women--with every demonstration of kindness, and were informed that the island of Raratonga had cast away and burned its idols, and now worshipped the true God, who had sent His Son Jesus Christ to save the world from sin. "I know that," replied Big Chief to the teacher who interpreted; "converts, like yourself, came to my island not long ago, and told me all about it. Now I have come to see and hear. A wise man will know and understand before he acts." Big Chief was then conducted to the presence of the king of that part of the island, who stood, surrounded by his chief men, under a grove of Temanu trees. The king, whose name was Makea, was a handsome man, in the prime of life, about six feet high, and very massive and muscular. He had a noble appearance and commanding aspect, and, though not so tall as Big Chief, was, obviously, a man of superior power in every way. His complexion was light, and his body most beautifully tatooed and slightly coloured with a preparation of tumeric and ginger, which gave it a light orange tinge, and, in the estimation of the Raratongans, added much to the beauty of his appearance. The two chiefs advanced frankly to each other, and amiably rubbed noses together--the South Sea method of salutation! Then a long palaver ensued, in which Big Chief explained the object of his visit, namely, to hear about the new religion, and to witness its effects with his own eyes. The missionary gladly gave him a full account of all he desired to know, and earnestly urged him to accept the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and to throw away his idols. Big Chief and his men listened with earnest attention and intense gravity, and, after the palaver was over, retired to consult together in private. During all this time poor Jarwin's heart had been greatly stirred. Being tatooed, and nearly naked, as well as painted like the rest of his comrades, of course no one took particular notice of him, which depressed him greatly, for he felt an intense desire to seize the missionary by the hand, and claim him as a countryman. Indeed this feeling was so strong upon him on first hearing Mr Williams's English tone of voice--although the missionary spoke only in the native tongue-- that he could scarcely restrain himself, and had to mutter "honour bright" several times, in order, as it were, to hold himself in check. "Honour bright" became his moral rein, or curb, on that trying occasion. But when, in the course of the palaver, Mrs Williams, who had accompanied her husband on this dangerous expedition, came forward and addressed a few words to the missionary in English, he involuntarily sprang forward with an exclamation of delight at hearing once more the old familiar tongue. He glanced, however, at Big Chief, and checked himself. There was a stern expression on the brow of the savage, but his eyes remained fixed on the ground, and his form and face were immovable, as though he heard and saw nothing. "Honour bright," whispered Jarwin, as he turned about and retired among his comrades. Fortunately his sudden action had only attracted the attention of a few of those who were nearest to him, and no notice was taken of it. When Big Chief retired with his men for consultation, he called Jarwin aside. "Jarwin," he said, with unusual gravity, "you must not hear our palaver." "Why not, old feller?" "It is your business to obey, not to question," replied Big Chief, sternly. "Go--when I want you I will find you. You may go and _look_ at the Cookee missionary, but, remember, I have your promise." "Honour bright," replied Jarwin with a sigh. "The promise of a Breetish tar?" "Surely," replied Jarwin. "Of a _Christian_?" said Big Chief, with emphasis. "Aye, that's the idee; but it's a hard case, old boy, to advise a poor feller to go into the very jaws o' temptation. I would rather 'ee had ordered me to keep away from 'em. Howsever, here goes!" Muttering these words to himself, he left his savage friends to hold their palaver, and went straight into the "jaws of temptation," by walking towards the cottage of the missionary. It was a neat wooden erection, built and plastered by the natives. Jarwin hung about the door; sometimes he even ventured to peep in at the windows, in his intense desire to see and hear the long-lost forms and tones of his native land; and, as the natives generally were much addicted to such indications of curiosity, his doing so attracted no unusual attention. While he was standing near the door, Mrs Williams unexpectedly came out. Jarwin, feeling ashamed to appear in so _very_ light a costume before a lady, turned smartly round and walked away. Then, reflecting that he was quite as decently clothed as the other natives about, he turned again and slowly retraced his steps, pretending to be interested in picking stones and plants from the ground. The missionary's wife looked at him for a moment with no greater interest than she would have bestowed on any other native, and then gazed towards the sea-shore, as if she expected some one. Presently Mr Williams approached. "Well, have you been successful?" she asked. "Yes, it has been all arranged satisfactorily, so I shall begin at once," replied Mr Williams. "The only thing that gives me anxiety is the bellows." Poor Jarwin drew nearer and nearer. His heart was again stirred in a way that it had not been for many a day, and he had to pull the rein pretty tightly; in fact, it required all his Christianity and British-tar-hood to prevent him from revealing himself, and claiming protection at that moment. As he raised himself, and gazed with intense interest at the speakers, the missionary's attention became fixed on him, and he beckoned him to approach. "I think you are one of the strangers who have just arrived, are you not?" This was spoken in the language of Raratonga, which was so similar to that which he had already acquired, that he opened his mouth to reply, "Yes, your honour," or "Your reverence," in English. But it suddenly occurred to him that he must translate this into the native tongue if his secret was to be preserved. While he was turning over in his mind the best words to use for this purpose he reflected that the imperfection of his knowledge, even the mere tone of his voice, would probably betray him; he therefore remained dumb, with his mouth open. The missionary smiled slightly, and repeated his question. Jarwin, in great perplexity, still remained dumb. Suddenly an idea flashed across his mind. He pointed to his mouth, wagged his tongue, and shook his head. "Ah! you are dumb, my poor man," said the missionary, with a look of pity. "Or tabooed," suggested the lady; "his tongue may have been tabooed." There was some reason and probability in this, for the extraordinary custom of tabooing, by which various things are supposed to be rendered sacred, and therefore not to be used or touched, is extended by the South Sea Islanders to various parts of their bodies, as for instance, the hands; in which case the person so tabooed must, for a time, be fed by others, as he dare not use his hands. Jarwin, being aware of the custom, was so tickled by the idea of his tongue being tabooed, that he burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, to the intense amazement of his questioners. While in the midst of this laugh, he became horrified by the thought that _that_ of itself would be sufficient to betray him, so he cleverly remedied the evil, and gave vent to his feelings by tapering the laugh off into a hideous yell, and rushed frantically from the spot. "Strange," observed the missionary, gazing after the fugitive mariner, "how like that was to an English laugh!" "More like the cry of a South Sea maniac, I think," said Mrs Williams, re-entering the house, followed by her husband. The matter which the missionary said had been arranged so satisfactorily, and was to be begun at once, was neither more nor less than the building of a ship, in which to traverse the great island-studded breast of the Pacific. In case some one, accustomed to think of the ponderous vessels which are built constantly in this land with such speed and facility, should be inclined to regard the building of a ship a small matter, we shall point out a few of the difficulties with which the missionary had to contend in this projected work. In the first place, he was on what is sometimes styled a "savage island"--an island that lay far out of the usual track of ships, that had only been discovered a little more than a year at that time, and was inhabited by a blood-thirsty, savage, cruel, and ignorant race of human beings, who had renounced idolatry and embraced Christianity only a few months before. They knew no more of ship-building than the celebrated man in the moon, and their methods of building canoes were quite inapplicable to vessels of large capacity. Besides this, Mr Williams was the only white man on the island, and he had no suitable implements for shipbuilding, except axes and augurs, and a few of the smaller of the carpenter's tools. In the building of a vessel, timbers and planks are indispensable, but he had no pit-saw wherewith to cut these. It is necessary to fasten planks and timbers together, but he had no nails to do this. Heavy iron forgings were required for some parts of the structure, but, although he possessed iron, he had no smith's anvil, or hammer, or tongs, or bellows, wherewith to forge it. In these circumstances he commenced one of the greatest pieces of work ever undertaken by man--greatest, not only because of the mechanical difficulties overcome, but because of the influence for good that the ship, when completed, had upon the natives of the Southern Seas, as well as its reflex influence in exciting admiration, emulation, and enthusiasm in other lands. The first difficulty was the bellows. Nothing could be done without these and the forge. There were four goats on the island. Three of these were sacrificed; their skins were cut up, and, along with two boards, converted into a pair of smith's bellows in four days. No one can imagine the intense interest with which John Jarwin looked on while the persevering but inexperienced missionary laboured at this work, and tremendous was the struggle which he had to keep his hands idle and his tongue quiet; for he was a mechanical genius, and could have given the missionary many a useful hint, but did not dare to do so lest his knowledge, or voice, or aptitude for such work, or all these put together, should betray him. He was, therefore, fain to content himself with looking on, or performing a few trifling acts in the way of lifting, carrying, and hewing with the axe. His friends frequently came to look on, as the work progressed, and he could not help fancying that they regarded him with looks of peculiar interest. This perplexed him, but, supposing that it must result from suspicion of his integrity, he took no notice of it, save that he became more resolute than ever in reference to "honour bright!" Big Chief also came to look on and wonder, but, although he kept a sharp eye on his slave, he did not seem to desire intercourse with him. When the bellows were finished, it was found that they did not work properly. The upper box did not fill well, and, when tried, they were not satisfied with blowing wind out, but insisted on drawing fire in! They were, in short, a failure! Deep were the ponderings of the missionary as to how this was to be remedied, and small was the light thrown on the subject by the various encyclopaedias and other books which he possessed; but the question was somewhat abruptly settled for him by the rats. These creatures devoured all the leather of the bellows in a single night, and left nothing but the bare boards! Rats were an absolute plague at that time at Raratonga. Mr Williams tells us, in his interesting "Narrative," that he and his family never sat down to a meal without having two or more persons stationed to keep them off the table. When kneeling at family prayer, they would run over them in all directions, and it was found difficult to keep them out of the beds. On one occasion, when the servant was making one of the beds, she uttered a scream, and, on rushing into the room, Mr Williams found that four rats had crept under the pillow and made themselves snug there. They paid for their impudence, however, with their lives. On another occasion, a pair of English shoes, which had not been put in the usual place of safety, were totally devoured in a night, and the same fate befell the covering of a hair-trunk. No wonder, then, that they did not spare the bellows! Poor Jarwin sorrowed over this loss fully as much as did the missionary, but he was forced to conceal his grief. Still bent on discovering some method of "raising the wind," Mr Williams appealed to his inventive powers. He considered that if a pump threw water, there was no reason why it should not throw wind. Impressed with this belief, he set to work and made a box about eighteen or twenty inches square and four feet high, with a valve in the bottom to let air in, a hole in the front to let it out, and a sort of piston to force it through the hole. By means of a long lever the piston could be raised, and by heavy weights it was pushed down. Of course considerable power was required to raise the piston and its weights, but there was a superabundance of power, for thousands of wondering natives were ready and eager to do whatever they were bid. They could have pumped the bellows had they been the size of a house! They worked admirably in some respects, but had the same fault as the first pair, namely, a tendency to suck in the fire! This, however, was corrected by means of a valve at the back of the pipe which communicated with the fire. Another fault lay in the length of interval between the blasts. This was remedied by making another box of the same kind, and working the two alternately, so that when one was blowing the fire, the other was, as it were, taking breath. Thus a continuous blast was obtained, while eight or ten grinning and delighted natives worked the levers. The great difficulty being thus overcome, the work progressed rapidly. A large hard stone served for an anvil, and a small stone, perforated, with a handle affixed to it, did duty for a hammer. A pair of carpenter's pincers served for tongs, and charcoal, made from the cocoanut and other trees, did duty for coals. In order to obtain planks, the missionary split trees in half with wedges and then the natives thinned them down with adzes extemporised by fitting crooked handles to ordinary hatchets. When a bent or twisted plank was required, having no apparatus for steaming it, he bent a piece of bamboo to the required shape, and sent natives to scour the woods in search of a suitable crooked tree. Thus planks suited to his purpose were obtained. Instead of fastening the planks to the timbers of the ship with iron nails, large wooden pins, or "trenails," were used, and driven into augur holes, and thus the fabric was held together. Instead of oakum, cocoanut husk was used, and native cloth and dried banana stumps to caulk the seams, and make them watertight. The bark of a certain tree was spun into twine and rope by a rope-machine made for the purpose, and a still more complex machine, namely, a turning-lathe, was constructed for the purpose of turning the block sheaves; while sails were made out of native mats, quilted to give them sufficient strength to resist the wind. By these means was completed, in about three months, a decked vessel of from seventy to eighty tons burden--about sixty feet long by eighteen broad. She was finally launched and named _The Messenger of Peace_. And, truly, a messenger of peace and glad tidings did she afterwards prove to be on many occasions among the islands of the Southern Seas. But our hero, John Jarwin, was not allowed to remain to see this happy consummation. He only looked on and assisted at the commencement of the work. Many and many a time did he, during that trying period, argue with himself as to the propriety of his conduct in thus refusing the means of escape when it was thrown in his way, and there was not wanting, now and then, a suggestion from somewhere--he knew not where, but certainly it was not from outside of him--that perhaps the opportunity had been _providentially_ thrown in his way. But Jarwin resisted these suggestions. He looked _up_, and reflected that he was there under a solemn promise; that, but for his promise, he should not have been there at all, and that, therefore, it was his peculiar duty at that particular time to whisper to himself continually--"honour bright!" One morning Big Chief roused Jarwin with his toe, and said-- "Get up. We go home now." "What say 'ee, old man?" "Get ready. We go to-day. I have seen and heard enough." Big Chief was very stern, so that Jarwin thought it wise to hold his tongue and obey. There was a long animated palaver between the chief, the missionary, and the king, but Jarwin had been carefully prevented from hearing it by his master, who ordered him to keep by the canoes, which were launched and ready. Once again he was assailed by an intense desire to escape, and this sudden approach of the time that was perchance to fix his fate for life rendered him almost desperate--but he still looked up, and "honour bright" carried the day. He remained dumb to the last, and did not even allow himself the small comfort of waving a piece of native cloth to the missionary, as he and his captors paddled from the Raratonga shore. CHAPTER EIGHT. DESPAIR IS FOLLOWED BY SURPRISES AND DELIVERANCE. At first John Jarwin could not quite realise his true position after leaving Raratonga. The excitement consequent on the whole affair remained for some time on his mind, causing him to feel as if it were a dream, and it was not until he had fairly landed again on Big Chief's island, and returned to his own little hut there, and had met with Cuffy--whose demonstrations of intense delight cannot by any possibility be described--that he came fully to understand the value of the opportunity which he had let slip through his fingers. Poor Jarwin! words fail to convey a correct idea of the depth of his despair, for now he saw clearly, as he thought, that perpetual slavery was his doom. Under the influence of the feelings that overwhelmed him he became savage. "Cuff," said he, on the afternoon of the day of his return, "it's all up with you and me, old chap." The tone in which this was uttered was so stern that the terrier drooped its ears, lowered its tail, and looked up with an expression that was equivalent to "Don't kick me, _please_ don't!" Jarwin smiled a grim yet a pitiful smile as he looked at the dog. "Yes, it's all up with us," he continued; "we shall live and die in slavery; wot a fool I was not to cut and run when I had the chance!" The remembrance of "honour bright" flashed upon him here, but he was still savage, and therefore doggedly shut his eyes to it. At this point a message was brought to him from Big Chief requesting his attendance in the royal hut. Jarwin turned angrily on the messenger and bid him begone in a voice of thunder, at the same time intimating, by a motion of his foot, that if he did not obey smartly, he would quicken his motions for him. The messenger vanished, and Jarwin sat down beside Cuffy--who looked excessively humble--and vented his feelings thus-- "I can't stand it no longer Cuff. I _won't_ stand it! I'm goin' to bust up, I am; so look out for squalls." A feeling of uncertainty as to the best method of "busting up" induced him to clutch his hair with both hands, and snort. It must not be supposed that our hero gave way to such rebellious feelings with impunity. On the contrary, his conscience pricked him to such an extent that it felt like an internal pin-cushion or hedgehog. While he was still holding fast to his locks in meditative uncertainty, three natives appeared at the entrance of his hut, and announced that they had been sent by Big Chief to take him to the royal hut by force, in case he should refuse to go peaceably. Uttering a shout of defiance, the exasperated man sprang up and rushed at the natives, who, much too wise to await the onset, fled in three different directions. Instead of pursuing any of them, Jarwin went straight to his master's hut, where he found him seated on a couch of native cloth. Striding up to him he clenched his fist, and holding it up in a threatening manner, exclaimed-- "Now look 'ee here, Big Chief--which it would be big thief if 'ee had yer right name--I ain't goin' to stand this sort o' thing no longer. I kep' my word to you all the time we wos at Raratonga, but now I'll keep it no longer. I'll do my best to cut the cable and make sail the wery first chance I gits--so I give 'ee fair warnin'." Big Chief made no reply for some moments, but opened his eyes with such an intense expression of unaffected amazement, that Jarwin's wrath abated, in spite of his careful nursing of it to keep it warm. "Jowin," he exclaimed at length, "you Christian Breetish tar, have your dibbil got into you?" This question effectually routed Jarwin's anger. He knew that the savage, to whom he had spoken at various times on the subject of satanic influence, was perfectly sincere in his inquiry, as well as in his astonishment. Moreover, he himself felt surprised that Big Chief, who was noted for his readiness to resent insult, should have submitted to his angry tones and looks and threatening manner without the slightest evidence of indignation. The two men therefore stood looking at each other in silent surprise for a few moments. "Big Chief," said Jarwin at last, bringing his right fist down heavily into his left palm, by way of emphasis, "there's no dibbil, as you call him, got possession o' me. My own spirit is dibbil enough, I find, to account for all that I've said and done--an' a great deal more. But it _has_ bin hard on me to see the door open, as it were, an' not take adwantage of it. Howsever, it's all over now, an' I ax yer parding. I'll not mutiny again. You've been a kind feller to me, old chap-- though you _are_ a savage--an' I ain't on-grateful; as long as I'm your slave I'll do my duty--`honour bright;' at the same time I think it fair an' above board to let you know that I'll make my escape from you when I git the chance. I'm bound for to sarve you while I eat your wittles, but I am free to go if I can manage it. There--you may roast me alive an' eat me, if you like, but you can't say, after this, that I'm sailin' under false colours." During this speech a variety of expressions affected the countenance of Big Chief, but that of melancholy predominated. "Jowin," he said, slowly, "I like you." "You're a good-hearted old buffer," said Jarwin, grasping the Chief's hand, and squeezing it; "to say the truth, I'm wery fond o' yourself, but it's nat'ral that I should like my freedom better." Big Chief pondered this for some time, and shook his head slowly, as if the result of his meditation was not satisfactory. "Jowin," he resumed, after a pause, "sing me a song." "Well, you _are_ a queer codger," said Jarwin, laughing in spite of himself; "if ever there was a man as didn't feel up to singin', that's me at this moment. Howsomedever, I 'spose it must be done. Wot'll you 'ave? `Ben Bolt,' `Black-eyed Susan,' `The Jolly Young Waterman,' `Jim Crow,' `There is a Happy Land,' or the `Old Hundred,' eh? Only say the word, an' I'll turn on the steam." Big Chief made no reply. As he appeared to be lost in meditation, Jarwin sat down, and in a species of desperation, began to bellow with all the strength of his lungs one of those nautical ditties with which seamen are wont to enliven the movements of the windlass or the capstan. He changed the tune several times, and at length slid gradually into a more gentle and melodious vein of song, while Big Chief listened with evident pleasure. Still there was perceptible to Jarwin a dash of sadness in his master's countenance which he had never seen before. Wondering at this, and changing his tunes to suit his own varying moods, he gradually came to plaintive songs, and then to psalms and hymns. At last Big Chief seemed satisfied, and bade his slave good-night. "He's a wonderful c'racter," remarked Jarwin to Cuffy, as he lay down to rest that night, "a most onaccountable sort o' man. There's sumthin' workin' in 'is 'ead; tho' wot it may be is more nor I can tell. P'raps he's agoin' to spiflicate me, in consikence o' my impidence. If so, Cuff, whatever will became o' you, my poor little doggie!" Cuffy nestled very close to his master's side at this point, and whined in a pitiful tone, as if he really understood the purport of his remarks. In five minutes more he was giving vent to occasional mild little whines and half barks, indicating that he was in the land of dreams, and Jarwin's nose was creating sounds which told that its owner had reached that blessed asylum of the weary--oblivion. Next day our sailor awakened to the consciousness of the fact that the sun was shining brightly, that paroquets were chattering gaily, that Cuffy was still sleeping soundly, and that the subjects of Big Chief were making an unusual uproar outside. Starting up, and pulling on a pair of remarkably ancient canvas trousers, which his master had graciously permitted him to retain and wear, Jarwin looked out at the door of his hut and became aware of the fact that the whole tribe was assembled in the spot where national "palavers" were wont to be held. The "House" appeared to be engaged at the time in the discussion of some exceedingly knotty question--a sort of national education bill, or church endowment scheme--for there was great excitement, much gesticulation, and very loud talk, accompanied with not a little angry demonstration on the part of the disputants. "Hallo! wot's up?" inquired Jarwin of a stout savage who stood at his door armed with a club, on the head of which human teeth formed a conspicuous ornament. "Palaver," replied the savage. "It's easy to hear and see that," replied Jarwin, "but wot is it all about?" The savage vouchsafed no farther reply, but continued to march up and down in front of the hut. Jarwin, therefore, essayed to quit his abode, but was stopped by the taciturn savage, who said that he must consider himself a prisoner until the palaver had come to an end. He was therefore fain to content himself with standing at his door and watching the gesticulations of the members of council. Big Chief was there of course, and appeared to take a prominent part in the proceedings. But there were other chiefs of the tribe whose opinions had much weight, though they were inferior to him in position. At last they appeared to agree, and finally, with a loud shout, the whole band rushed off in the direction of the temple where their idols were kept. Jarwin's guard had manifested intense excitement during the closing scene, and when this last act took place he threw down his club, forsook his post, and followed his comrades. Of course Jarwin availed himself of the opportunity, and went to see what was being done. To his great surprise he found that the temple was being dismantled, while the idols were carried down to the palaver-ground, if we may so call it, and thrown into a heap there with marks of indignity and contempt. Knowing, as he did, the superstitious reverence with which the natives regarded their idols, Jarwin beheld this state of things with intense amazement, and he looked on with increasing interest, hoping, ere long, to discover some clue to the mystery, but his hopes were disappointed, for Big Chief caught sight of him and sternly ordered him back to his hut, where another guard was placed over him. This guard was more strict than the previous one had been. He would not allow his prisoner even to look on at what was taking place. Under the circumstances, there was therefore nothing for it but to fall back on philosophic meditation and converse with Cuffy. These were rather poor resources, however, to a man who was surrounded by a tribe of excited savages. Despite his natural courage and coolness, Jarwin felt, as he said himself, "raither oncomfortable." Towards the afternoon things became a little more quiet, still no notice was taken of our hero save that his meals were sent to him from the Chief's hut. He wondered at this greatly, for nothing of the kind had ever happened before, and he began to entertain vague suspicions that such treatment might possibly be the prelude to evil of some kind befalling him. He questioned his guard several times, but that functionary told him that Big Chief had bidden him refuse to hold converse with him on any subject whatever. Being, as the reader knows, a practical, matter-of-fact sort of man, our hero at last resigned himself to his fate, whatever that might be, and beguiled the time by making many shrewd remarks and observations to Cuffy. When the afternoon meal was brought to him, he heaved a deep sigh, and apparently, with that effort flung off all his anxieties. "Come along, Cuff," he said in a hearty voice, sitting down to dinner, "let's grub together an' be thankful for small mercies, anyhow. Wotever turns up, you and I shall go halves and stick by one another to the last. Not that I have any doubts of Big Chief, Cuffy; you mustn't suppose that; but then, you see, he ain't the only chief in the island, and if all the rest was to go agin him, _he_ couldn't do much to save us." The dog of course replied in its usual facetious manner with eyes and tail, and sat down with its ears cocked and its head turned expectantly on one side, while the sailor removed the palm-leaf covering of the basket which contained the provisions sent to him. "Wot have we here, Cuffy?" he said soliloquising and looking earnestly in; "let me see; bit of baked pig--good, Cuff, good; that's the stuff to make us fat. Wot next? Roast fish--that's not bad, Cuff--not bad, though hardly equal to the pig. Here we have a leaf full of plantains and another of yams,--excellent grub that, my doggie, nothing could be better. What's this? Cocoanut full of its own milk--the best o' drink; `it cheers'--as the old song, or the old poet says--`but it don't inebriate;' that wos said in regard to tea, you know, but it holds good in respect of cocoanut milk, and it's far better than grog, Cuffy; far better, though you can't know nothin' about that, but you may take my word for it; happy is the man as drinks nothin' stronger than cocoanut milk or tea. Hallo! wot's this--plums? Why, doggie, they're oncommon good to us to-day. I wonder wot's up. I say--" Jarwin paused as he drew the last dish out of the prolific basket, and looked earnestly at his dog while he laid it down, "I say, what if they should have taken it into their heads to fatten us up before killin' us? That's not a wery agreeable notion, is it, eh?" Apparently Cuffy was of the same opinion, for he did not wag even the point of his tail, and there was something dubious in the glance of his eye as he waited for more. "Well, well, it ain't no use surmisin'," observed the seaman, with another sigh, "wot we've got for to do just now is to eat our wittles an' hope for the best. Here you are, Cuff--catch!" Throwing a lump of baked pig to his dog, the worthy man fell to with a keen appetite, and gave himself no further anxiety as to the probable or possible events of the future. Dinner concluded, he would fain have gone out for a ramble on the shore--as he had been wont to do in time past--but his gaoler forbade him to quit the hut. He was therefore about to console himself with a siesta, when an unexpected order came from Big Chief, requiring his immediate attendance in the royal hut. Jarwin at once obeyed the mandate, and in a few minutes stood before his master, who was seated on a raised couch, enjoying a cup of cocoanut milk. "I have send for you," began Big Chief with solemnity, "to have a palaver. Sit down, you Breetish tar." "All right, old chap," replied Jarwin, seating himself on a stool opposite to his master. "Wot is it to be about?" "Jowin," rejoined Big Chief, with deepening gravity, "you's bin well treated here." Big Chief spoke in broken English now, having picked it up with amazing facility from his white slave. "Well, y-e-es, I'm free to confess that I _has_ bin well treated-- barrin' the fact that my liberty's bin took away; besides which, some of your black rascals ain't quite so civil as they might be, but on the whole, I've been well treated; anyhow I never received nothin' but kindness from _you_, old codger." He extended his hand frankly, and Big Chief, who had been taught the meaning of our English method of salutation, grasped it warmly and shook it with such vigour that he would certainly have discomposed Jarwin had that "Breetish tar" been a less powerful man. He performed this ceremony with the utmost sadness, however, and continued to shake his head in such a melancholy way that his white slave began to feel quite anxious about him. "Hallo! old feller, you ain't bin took bad, have 'ee?" Big Chief made no reply, but continued to shake his head slowly; then, as if a sudden idea had occurred to him, he rose, and, grasping Jarwin by his whiskers with both hands, rubbed noses with him, after which he resumed his seat on the couch. "Just so," observed our hero with a smile, "you shake hands with me English fashion--I rub noses with you South-Sea fashion. Give an' take; all right, old codger--`may our friendship last for ever,' as the old song puts it. But wot about this here palaver you spoke of? It warn't merely to rub our beaks together that you sent for me, I fancy. Is it a song you wants, or a hymn? Only say the word, and I'm your man." "I s'pose," said Big Chief, using, of course, Jarwin's sea phraseology, only still farther broken, "you'd up ankar an' make sail most quick if you could, eh?" "Well, although I _has_ a likin' for you, old man," replied the sailor, "I can't but feel a sort o' preference, d'ee see, for my own wife an' child'n. There_fore_ I _would_ cut my cable, if I had the chance." "Kite right, kite right," replied Big Chief, with a deep sigh, "you say it am nat'ral. Good, good, so 'tis. Now, Jowin," continued the savage chief, with intense earnestness, "you's free to go when you pleases." "Oh, gammon!" replied Jarwin, with an unbelieving grin. "Wot _is_ gammon?" demanded Big Chief, with a somewhat disappointed look. "Well, it don't matter what it means--it's nothin' or nonsense, if you like--but wot do _you_ mean, old man, `that's the rub,' as Hamblet, or some such c'racter, said to his father-in-law; you ain't in airnest, are you?" "Jowin," answered the Chief, with immovable gravity, "I not onderstan' you. Wot you mean by airnest?" He did not wait for a reply, however, but seizing Jarwin by the wrist, and looking into his eyes with an expression of child-like earnestness that effectually solemnised his white slave, continued, "Lissen, onderstan' me. I is a Christian. My broder chiefs an' I have watch you many days. You have always do wot is right, no matter wot trouble follers to you. You do this for love of your God, your Saviour, so you tells me. Good, I do not need much palaver. Wen de sun shines it am hot; wen not shine am cold. Wot more? Cookee missionary have _say_ the truth. My slave have _prove_ the truth. I love you, Jowin. I love your God. I keep you if possible, but Christian must not have slave. Go--you is free." "You don't mean _that_, old man?" cried Jarwin, starting up with flashing eyes and seizing his master's hand. "You is free!" repeated Big Chief. We need not relate all that honest John Jarwin said and did after that. Let it suffice to record his closing remarks that night to Cuffy. "Cuff," said he, patting the shaggy head of his humble friend, "many a strange thing crops up in this here koorious world, but it never did occur to my mind before, that while a larned man like a missionary might _state_ the truth, the likes o' me should have the chance an' the power to _prove_ it. That's a wery koorious fact, so you an' I shall go to sleep on it, my doggie--good-night." CHAPTER NINE. THE LAST. That Jarwin's deliverance from slavery was not a dream, but a blessed reality, was proved to him next day beyond all doubt by the singular proceedings of Big Chief and his tribe. Such of the native idols as had not been burned on the previous day were brought out, collected into a heap, and publicly burned, after which the whole tribe assembled on the palavering ground, and Big Chief made a long, earnest, and animated speech, in which he related all that he had seen of his white slave's conduct at the island of Raratonga, and stated how that conduct had proved to him, more conclusively than anything else he had heard or seen, that the religion of the white missionaries was true. While this was being spoken, many sage reflections were passing through Jarwin's mind, and a feeling of solemn thankfulness filled him when he remembered how narrowly he had escaped doing inconceivable damage by giving way to temptation and breaking his word. He could not avoid perceiving that, if he had not been preserved in a course of rectitude all through his terrible trial, at a time when he thought that no one was thinking about him, not only would Big Chief and his nation have probably remained in heathen superstition, and continued to practise all the horrid and bloody rites which that superstition involved, but his own condition of slavery would, in all probability, have been continued and rendered permanent; for Big Chief and his men were numerous and powerful enough to have held their own against the Raratongans, while, at the same time, it was probable that he would have lost his master's regard, as he would certainly have lost his respect. He could not help reflecting, also, how much the cause of Christianity must often suffer in consequence of the conduct of many seamen, calling themselves Christians, who visit the South-Sea Islands, and lead dissolute, abandoned lives while there. Some of these, he knew, brought this discredit on the name of Jesus thoughtlessly, and would, perhaps, be solemnised and sorry if they knew the terrible results of their conduct; while others, he also knew, cared nothing for Christianity, or for anything in the world except the gratification of their own selfish desires. While he was yet pondering these things, Big Chief advanced towards him, and, taking him by the hand, led him into the centre of the concourse. To his great surprise and confusion the tall chief said-- "Now, Jowin will palaver to you. He is one Breetish tar--one Christian. He can tell us what we shall do." Saying this, Big Chief sat down, and left Jarwin standing in the midst scratching his head, and looking with extreme perplexity at the vast sea of black faces and glittering eyes which were directed towards him. "W'y, you know, old man, it ain't fair of you, this ain't," he said, addressing himself to Big Chief; "you've took me all aback, like a white squall. How d'ee s'pose that _I_ can tell 'ee wot to do? I ain't a parson--no, not even a clerk, or a parish beadle!" To this Big Chief vouchsafed no further reply than--"Palaver, you Breetish tar!" "Wery good," exclaimed Jarwin, turning round, and looking full at his audience, while a bright smile lit up his sunburnt countenance, as if a sudden idea had occurred to him, "I'll do my best to palaver. Here goes, then, for a yarn." Jarwin spoke, of course, in the native tongue, which we translate into his own language. "Big Chief, small chiefs, and niggers in general," he began, with a wave of his right hand, "you've called on me for a speech. Good. I'm your man, I'm a `Breetish tar,' as your great chief says truly--that's a fact; an' I'm a Christian--I _hope_. God knows, I've sometimes my own doubts as to that same; but the doubts ain't with reference to the Almighty; they're chiefly as regards myself. Howsever, to come to the point, you've gone and burnt your idols--" "Ho!" exclaimed the whole assembly, with a degree of energy that made a deep impression on the sailor--just as one might be impressed when he has been permitted to become the happy medium of achieving some great end which he had never dreamed of being privileged to accomplish. "Well, then," continued Jarwin, "_that_ is a good thing, anyhow; for it's a disgrace to human natur', not to speak o' common-sense an' other things, to worship stocks an' stones, w'en the Bible _distinctly_ tolls 'ee not to do it. You've done right in that matter; an' glad am I to hear from Big Chief that you intend, after this, to foller _the truth_. Old man, an' niggers," cried Jarwin, warming up, "to my mind, the highest thing that a man can dewot his-self to is, the follerin' out an' fallin' in with _the truth_. Just s'pose that chemists, an' ingineers, an' doctors was to foller lies! W'y, wot would come of it? Confoosion wus confounded. In coorse, therefore, they carefully _tries_ to foller wots _true_--though I'm bound for to say they _do_ git off the track now an' then. Well, if it's so with such like, it's much more so with religion. Wot then? W'y, stand by your colours, through thick an' thin. Hold on to the Bible! That's the watchword. That's your sheet-anchor--though you haven't seed one yet. It's good holdin' ground is the Bible--it's the _only_ holdin' ground. `How does I know that?' says you. Well, it ain't easy for me to give you an off-hand answer to that, any more than it is to give you an off-hand answer to a complicated question in the rule o' three. A parson could do it, no doubt, but the likes o' me can only show a sort o' reflected light like the moon; nevertheless, we may show a true light--though reflected. Chiefs an' niggers, there's asses in every generation (young asses chiefly) as thinks they've found out somethin' noo in regard to the Bible, an' then runs it down. An' them fellers grow old, an' sticks to their opinions; an' they think themselves wise, an' other people thinks 'em wise 'cause they're old, as if oldness made 'em wise! W'y are they asses? W'y, because they formed their opinions _early_ in life, in opposition to men wot has studied these matters all through their lives. Havin' hoisted their colours, they nails 'em to the mast; an' there they are! They never goes at the investigation o' the subject as a man investigates mathematics, or navigation, or logarithms; so they're like a ship at sea without a chart. Niggers, no man can claim to be wise unless he can `render a reason.' He _may_ be, p'raps, but he can't _claim_ to be. _I_ believe the Bible's true because o' two facts. Fust of all, men of the highest intellec' have found it true, an tried it, an' practised its teachin's, an' rested their souls on it. In the second place, as the parsons say, _I_ have tried it, an' found it true as fur as I've gone. I've sailed accordin to the chart, an' have struck on no rocks or shoals as yet. I've bin wery near it; but, thank God, I wasn't allowed to take the wrong course altogether, though I've got to confess that I wanted to, many a time. Now, wot does all this here come to?" demanded Jarwin, gazing round on his audience, who were intensely interested, though they did not understand much of what he said, "wot _does_ it come to? W'y that, havin' wisely given up yer idols, an' taken to the true God, the next best thing you can do is to go off at once to Raratonga, an' git the best adwice you can from those wot are trained for to give it. I can't say no fairer than that, for, as to askin' adwice on religious matters from the likes o' me, w'y the thing's parfitly ridiklous!" Jarwin sat down amid a murmur of applause. In a few minutes an old chief rose to reply. His words were to the effect that, although there was much in their white brother's speech beyond their understanding-- which was not to be wondered at, considering that he was so learned, and they so ignorant--there was one part of it which he thoroughly agreed with, namely, that a party should be sent to Raratonga to inform the Cookee missionaries as to what had taken place, to ask advice, and to beg one of the Cookees to come and live permanently on their island, and teach them the Christian religion. Another chief followed with words and sentiments to much the same effect. Then Big Chief gave orders that the canoes for the deputation should be got ready without delay, and the meeting broke up with loud shouts and other pleasant demonstrations. Matters having been thus satisfactorily arranged, Jarwin returned to his hut with a grateful heart, to meditate on the happy turn that had taken place in his prospects. Finding the hut not quite congenial to his frame of mind, and observing that the day was unusually fine, he resolved to ramble in the cool shades of a neighbouring wood. "Come, Cuff, my doggie, you an' I shall go for a walk this fine day; we've much to think about an' talk over, d'ee see, which is best done in solitary places." Need we say that Cuffy responded with intense enthusiasm to this invitation, and that his "spanker boom" became violently demonstrative as he followed his master into the wood. Jarwin still wore, as we have said, his old canvas trousers, which had been patched and re-patched to such an extent with native cloth, that very little of the original fabric was visible. The same may be said of his old flannel shirt, to which he clung with affectionate regard long after it had ceased to be capable of clinging to him without patchwork strengthening. The remnants of his straw hat, also, had been carefully kept together, so that, with the exception of the paint on his face, which Big Chief insisted on his wearing, and the huge South-Sea club which he carried habitually for protection, he was still a fair specimen of a British tar. Paroquets were chattering happily; rills were trickling down the hillsides; fruit and flower trees perfumed the air, and everything looked bright and beautiful--in pleasant accordance with the state of Jarwin's feelings--while the two friends wandered away through the woods in dreamy enjoyment of the past and present, and with hopeful anticipations in regard to the future. Jarwin said something to this effect to Cuffy, and put it to him seriously to admit the truth of what he said, which that wise dog did at once--if there be any truth in the old saying that "silence is consent." After wandering for several hours, they came out of the wood at a part of the coast which lay several miles distant from Big Chief's village. Here, to his surprise and alarm, he discovered two war-canoes in the act of running on the beach. He drew back at once, and endeavoured to conceal himself, for he knew too well that this was a party from a distant island, the principal chief of which had threatened more than once to make an attack on Big Chief and his tribe. But Jarwin had been observed, and was immediately pursued and his retreat cut off by hundreds of yelling savages. Seeing this, he ran down to the beach, and, taking up a position on a narrow spit of sand, flourished his ponderous club and stood at bay. Cuffy placed himself close behind his master, and, glaring between his legs at the approaching savages, displayed all his teeth and snarled fiercely. One, who appeared to be a chief, ran straight at our hero, brandishing a club similar to his own. Jarwin had become by that time well practised in the use of his weapon; he evaded the blow dealt at him, and fetched the savage such a whack on the small of his back as he passed him, that he fell flat on the sand and lay there. Cuffy rushed at him and seized him by the throat, an act which induced another savage to launch a javelin at the dog. It grazed his back, cut it partly open, and sent him yelling into the woods. Meanwhile, Jarwin was surrounded, and, although he felled three or four of his assailants, was quickly overpowered by numbers, gagged, lashed tight to a pole, so that he could not move, and laid in the bottom of one of the war-canoes. Even when in this sad plight the sturdy seaman did not lose heart, for he knew well that Cuffy being wounded and driven from his master's side, would run straight home to his master's hut, and that Big Chief would at once suspect, from the nature of the wound and the circumstance of the dog being alone, that it was necessary for him and his men-of-war to take the field; Jarwin, therefore, felt very hopeful that he should be speedily rescued. But such hopes were quickly dispelled when, after a noisy dispute on the beach, the savages, who owned the canoe in which he lay, suddenly re-embarked and pushed off to sea, leaving the other canoe and its crew on the beach. Hour after hour passed, but the canoe-men did did not relax their efforts. Straight out to sea they went, and when the sun set, Big Chief's island had already sunk beneath the horizon. Now, indeed, a species of wild despair filled the breast of the poor captive. To be thus seized, and doomed in all probability to perpetual bondage, when the cup of regained liberty had only just touched his lips, was very hard to bear. When he first fully realised his situation, he struggled fiercely to burst his bonds, but the men who had tied him knew how to do their work. He struggled vainly until he was exhausted. Then, looking up into the starry sky, his mind became gradually composed, and he had recourse to prayer. Slumber ere long sealed his eyes, setting him free in imagination, and he did not again waken until daylight was beginning to appear. All that day he lay in the same position, without water or food, cramped by the cords that bound him, and almost driven mad by the heat of an unclouded sun. Still, onward went the canoe--propelled by men who appeared to require no rest. Night came again, and Jarwin--by that time nearly exhausted--fell into a troubled slumber. From this he was suddenly aroused by loud wild cries and shouts, as of men engaged in deadly conflict, and he became aware of the fact that the canoe in which he lay was attacked, for the warriors had thrown down their paddles and seized their clubs, and their feet trod now on his chest, now on his face, as they staggered to and fro. In a few minutes several dead and wounded men fell on him; then he became unconscious. When John Jarwin's powers of observation returned, he found himself lying on his back in a neat little bed, with white cotton curtains, in a small, comfortably-furnished room, that reminded him powerfully of home! Cuffy lay on the counterpane, sound asleep, with his chin on his master's breast. At the bedside, with her back to him, sat a female, dressed in European clothes, and busy sewing. "Surely it ain't bin all a long dream!" whispered Jarwin to himself. Cuffy cocked his ears and head, and turned a furtive glance on his master's face, while his "spanker boom" rose with the evident intention to wag, if circumstances rendered it advisable; but circumstances had of late been rather perplexing to Cuffy. At the same time the female turned quickly round and revealed a brown, though pleasant, face. Simultaneously, a gigantic figure arose at his side and bent over him. "You's bedder?" said the gigantic figure. "Hallo! Big Chief! Wot's up, old feller?" exclaimed Jarwin. "Hold you's tongue!" said Big Chief, sternly. "Go way," he added, to the female, who, with an acquiescent smile, left the room. "Well, this _is_ queer; an' I feels queer. Queery--wots the meanin' of it?" asked Jarwin. "You's bin bad, Jowin," answered Big Chief, gravely, "wery bad. Dead a-most. Now, you's goin' to be bedder. Doctor say that--" "Doctor!" exclaimed Jarwin in surprise, "_what_ doctor?" "Doctor of ship. Hims come ebbery day for to see you." "Ship!" cried Jarwin, springing up in his bed and glaring at Big Chief in wonder. "Lie down, you Christian Breetish tar," said the Chief, sternly, at the same time laying his large hand on the sailor's chest with a degree of force that rendered resistance useless. "Hold you's tongue an' listen. Doctor say you not for speak. Me tell you all about it. "Fust place," continued Big Chief, "you's bin bad, konsikince of de blackguard's havin' jump on you's face an' stummick. But we give 'em awful lickin', Jowin--oh! smash um down right and left; got you out de canoe--dead, I think, but no, not jus' so. Bring you here--Raratonga. De Cookee missionary an' his wife not here; away in ship you sees im make. Native teecher here. Dat teecher's wife bin nurse you an' go away jus' now. Ship comes here for trade, bound for England. Ams got doctor. Doctor come see you, shake ums head; looks long time; say he put you `all right.' Four week since dat. Now, you's hall right?" The last words he uttered with much anxiety depicted on his countenance, for he had been so often deceived of late by Jarwin having occasional lucid intervals in the midst of his delirium, that his faith in him had been shaken. "All right!" exclaimed Jarwin, "aye, right as a trivet. Bound for England, did 'ee say--the ship?" Big Chief nodded and looked very sad. "You go home?" he asked, softly. Jarwin was deeply touched, he seized the big man's hand, and, not being strong, failed to restrain a tear or two. Big Chief, being _very_ strong--in feelings as well as in frame--burst into tears. Cuffy, being utterly incapable of making head or tail of it, gave vent to a prolonged, dismal howl, which changed to a bark and whine of satisfaction when his master laughed, patted him, and advised him not to be so free in the use of his "spanker boom!" ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Four weeks later, and Jarwin, with Cuffy by his side, stood, "himself again," on the quarterdeck of the _Nancy_ of Hull, while the "Yo, heave ho!" of the sailors rang an accompaniment to the clatter of the windlass as they weighed anchor, Big Chief held his hand and wept, and rubbed noses with him--to such an extent that the cabin boy said it was a perfect miracle that they had a scrap of nose left on their faces--and would not be consoled by the assurance that he, Jarwin, would certainly make another voyage to the South Seas, if he should be spared to do so, and occasion offered, for the express purpose of paying him a visit. At last he tore himself away, got into his canoe, and remained gazing in speechless sorrow after the homeward-bound vessel as she shook out her topsails to the breeze. Despite his efforts, poor Jarwin was so visibly affected at parting from his kind old master, that the steward of the ship, a sympathetic man, was induced to offer him a glass of grog and a pipe. He accepted both, mechanically, still gazing with earnest looks at the fast-receding canoe. Presently he raised the glass to his lips, and his nose became aware of the long-forgotten odour! The current of his thoughts was violently changed. He looked intently at the glass and then at the pipe. "Drink," said the sympathetic steward, "and take a whiff. It'll do you good." "Drink! whiff!" exclaimed Jarwin, while a dark frown gathered on his brow. "There, old Father Neptune," he cried, tossing the glass and pipe overboard, "_you_ drink and whiff, if you choose; John Jarwin has done wi' drinkin' an' whiffin' for ever! Thanks to _you_, all the same, an' no offence meant," he added in a gentler tone, turning to the astonished steward, and patting him on the shoulder, "but if you had suffered all that I have suffered through bein' a slave to the glass and the pipe-- when I _thought_ I was no slave, mark you, an' would have larfed any one to scorn who'd said I wos--if you'd see'd me groanin', an yearnin', an' dreamin' of baccy an' grog, as I _have_ done w'en I couldn't get neither of 'em for love or money--you wouldn't wonder that I ain't goin' to be such a born fool as to go an' sell myself over again!" Turning quickly towards the shore, as if regretting that he should, for a moment, have appeared to forget his old friend, he pulled out his handkerchief and waved it over the side. Big Chief replied energetically with a scrap of native cloth--not having got the length of handkerchiefs at that time. "Look at 'im, Cuff" exclaimed Jarwin, placing his dog on the bulwarks of the ship, "look at him, Cuff, and wag your `spanker boom' to him, too-- ay, that's right--for he's as kind-hearted a nigger as ever owned a Breetish tar for a slave." He said no more, but continued to wave his handkerchief at intervals until the canoe seemed a mere speck on the horizon, and, after it was gone, he and his little dog continued to gaze sadly at the island, as it grew fainter and fainter, until it sank at last into the great bosom of the Pacific Ocean. The next land seen by Jarwin and Cuffy was--the white cliffs of Old England! 
21551	----	The Little Savage, by Captain Marryat. ________________________________________________________________________ Captain Frederick Marryat was born July 10 1792, and died August 8 1848. He retired from the British navy in 1828 in order to devote himself to writing. In the following 20 years he wrote 26 books, many of which are among the very best of English literature, and some of which are still in print. Marryat had an extraordinary gift for the invention of episodes in his stories. He says somewhere that when he sat down for the day's work, he never knew what he was going to write. He certainly was a literary genius. "The Little Savage" was published in 1848, the twenty-sixth book to flow from Marryat's pen. It was completed after his death by a member of his family. It is intended for children, and its religious overtones are in contrast to Marryat's other works. He was far from irreligious, but this book is definitely in a different style. This e-book was transcribed in 1998 by Nick Hodson, and was reformatted in 2003, and again in 2005. ________________________________________________________________________ THE LITTLE SAVAGE, BY CAPTAIN FREDERICK MARRYAT. CHAPTER ONE. I am about to write a very curious history, as the reader will agree with me when he has read this book. We have more than one narrative of people being cast away upon desolate islands, and being left to their own resources, and no works are perhaps read with more interest; but I believe I am the first instance of a boy being left alone upon an uninhabited island. Such was, however, the case; and now I shall tell my own story. My first recollections are, that I was in company with a man upon this island, and that we walked often along the sea-shore. It was rocky and difficult to climb in many parts, and the man used to drag or pull me over the dangerous places. He was very unkind to me, which may appear strange, as I was the only companion that he had; but he was of a morose and gloomy disposition. He would sit down squatted in the corner of our cabin, and sometimes not speak for hours,--or he would remain the whole day looking out at the sea, as if watching for something, but what I never could tell; for if I spoke, he would not reply; and if near to him, I was sure to receive a cuff or a heavy blow. I should imagine that I was about five years old at the time that I first recollect clearly what passed. I may have been younger. I may as well here state what I gathered from him at different times, relative to our being left upon this desolate spot. It was with difficulty that I did so; for, generally speaking, he would throw a stone at me if I asked questions, that is, if I repeatedly asked them after he had refused to answer. It was on one occasion, when he was lying sick, that I gained the information, and that only by refusing to attend him or bring him food and water. He would be very angry, and say, that when he got well again, he would make me smart for it; but I cared not, for I was then getting strong, whilst he was getting weaker every day, and I had no love for him, for he had never shown any to me, but always treated me with great severity. He told me, that about twelve years before (not that I knew what he meant by a year, for I had never heard the term used by him), an English ship (I did not know what a ship was) had been swamped near the island in a heavy gale, and that seven men and one woman had been saved, and all the other people lost. That the ship had been broken into pieces, and that they had saved nothing--that they had picked up among the rocks pieces of the wood with which it had been made, and had built the cabin in which we lived. That one had died after another, and had been buried (what death or burial meant, I had no idea at the time); and that I had been born on the island--(how was I born? thought I); that most of them had died before I was two years old; and that then, he and my mother were the only two left besides me. My mother had died a few months afterwards. I was obliged to ask him many questions to understand all this; indeed, I did not understand it till long afterwards, although I had an idea of what he would say. Had I been left with any other person, I should, of course, by conversation, have learned much; but he never would converse, still less explain. He called me, Boy, and I called him, Master. His inveterate silence was the occasion of my language being composed of very few words; for, except to order me to do this or that, to procure what was required, he never would converse. He did, however, mutter to himself, and talk in his sleep, and I used to lie awake and listen, that I might gain information; not at first, but when I grew older. He used to cry out in his sleep constantly: "A judgment, a judgment on me for my sins, my heavy sins! God be merciful!" But what judgement, or what sin was, or what was God, I did not then know, although I mused on words repeated so often. I will now describe the island, and the way in which we lived. The island was very small, perhaps not three miles round; it was of rock, and there was no beach nor landing-place, the sea washing its sides with deep water. It was, as I afterwards discovered, one of the group of islands, to which the Peruvians despatch vessels every year to collect the guano, or refuse of the sea-birds which resort to the islands; but the one on which we were was small, and detached some distance from the others, on which the guano was found in great profusion; so that hitherto it had been neglected, and no vessel had ever come near it. Indeed, the other islands were not to be seen from it except on a very clear day, when they appeared like a cloud or mist on the horizon. The shores of the island were, moreover, so precipitous, that there was no landing-place, and the eternal wash of the ocean would have made it almost impossible for a vessel to have taken off a cargo. Such was the island upon which I found myself in company with this man. Our cabin was built of ship-plank and timber, under the shelter of a cliff, about fifty yards from the water; there was a flat of about thirty yards square in front of it, and from the cliff there trickled down a rill of water, which fell into a hole dug out to collect it, and then found its way over the flat to the rocks beneath. The cabin itself was large, and capable of holding many more people than had ever lived in it; but it was not too large, as we had to secure in it our provisions for many months. There were several bed-places level with the floor, which were rendered soft enough to lie on, by being filled with the feathers of birds. Furniture there was none, except two or three old axes, blunted with long use, a tin pannikin, a mess kid, and some rude vessels to hold water, cut out of wood. On the summit of the island, there was a forest of underwood, and the bushes extended some distance down the ravines which led from the summit to the shore. One of my most arduous tasks was to climb these ravines and collect wood, but fortunately a fire was not often required. The climate was warm all the year round, and there seldom was a fall of rain; when it did fall, it was generally expended on the summit of the island, and did not reach us. At a certain period of the year, the birds came to the island in numberless quantities to breed, and their chief resort was some tolerably level ground--indeed, in many places, it was quite level with the accumulation of guano--which ground was divided from the spot where our cabin was built by a deep ravine. On this spot, which might perhaps contain about twenty acres or more, the sea-birds would sit upon their eggs, not four inches apart from each other, and the whole surface of this twenty acres would be completely covered with them. There they would remain, from the time of the laying of the eggs, until the young ones were able to leave the nests and fly away with them. At the season when the birds were on the island, all was gaiety, bustle; and noise, but after their departure it was quiet and solitude. I used to long for their arrival, and was delighted with the animation which gladdened the island, the male birds diving in every direction after fish, wheeling and soaring in the air, and uttering loud cries, which were responded to by their mates on the nests. But it was also our harvest time; we seldom touched the old birds, as they were not in flesh, but as soon as the young ones were within a few days of leaving the nests, we were then busy enough. In spite of the screaming and the flapping of their wings in our faces, and the darting their beaks at our eyes, of the old birds, as we robbed them of their progeny, we collected hundreds every day, and bore as heavy a load as we could carry across the ravine to the platform in front of our cabin, where we busied ourselves in skinning them, splitting them, and hanging them out to dry in the sun. The air of the island was so pure that no putrefaction ever took place, and during the last fortnight of the birds coming on the island, we had collected a sufficiency for our support until their return on the following year. As soon as they were quite dry they were packed up in a corner of the cabin for use. These birds were, it may be said, the only produce of the island, with the exception of fish, and the eggs taken at the time of their first making their nests. Fish were to be taken in large quantities. It was sufficient to put a line over the rocks, and it had hardly time to go down a fathom before anything at the end of it was seized. Indeed, our means of taking them were as simple as their voracity was great. Our lines were composed of the sinews of the legs of the man-of-war birds, as I afterwards heard them named; and, as these were only about a foot long, it required a great many of them knotted together to make a line. At the end of the line was a bait fixed over a strong fish-bone, which was fastened to the line by the middle; a half-hitch of the line round one end kept the bone on a parallel with the line until the bait was seized, when the line being tautened, the half-hitch slipped off and the bone remained crossways in the gullet of the fish, which was drawn up by it. Simple as this contrivance was, it answered as well as the best hook, of which I had never seen one at that time. The fish were so strong and large, that, when I was young, the man would not allow me to attempt to catch them, lest they should pull me into the water; but, as I grew bigger I could master them. Such was our food from one year's end to the other; we had no variety, except when occasionally we broiled the dried birds or the fish upon the embers, instead of eating them dried by the sun. Our raiment, such as it was, we were also indebted to the feathered tribe for. The birds were skinned with the feathers on, and their skins sewn together with sinews, and a fish-bone by way of a needle. These garments were not very durable, but the climate was so fine that we did not suffer from the cold at any season of the year. I used to make myself a new dress every year when the birds came; but by the time that they returned, I had little left of my last year's suit, the fragments of which might be found among the rocky and steep parts of the ravine where we used to collect firing. Living such a life, with so few wants, and those periodically and easily supplied, hardly varied from one year's end to another, it may easily be imagined that I had but few ideas. I might have had more, if my companion had not been of such a taciturn and morose habit; as it was, I looked at the wide ocean, and the sky, and the sun, moon, and stars, wondering, puzzled, afraid to ask questions, and ending all by sleeping away a large portion of my existence. We had no tools except the old ones, which were useless--no employment of any kind. There was a book, and I asked what it was for and what it was, but I got no answer. It remained upon the shelf, for if I looked at it I was ordered away, and at last I regarded it with a sort of fear, as if it were a kind of incomprehensible animal. The day was passed in idleness and almost silence; perhaps not a dozen sentences were exchanged in the twenty-four hours; my companion always the same, brooding over something which appeared ever to occupy his thoughts, and angry if roused up from his reverie. CHAPTER TWO. The reader must understand that the foregoing remarks are to be considered as referring to my position and amount of knowledge when I was seven or eight years old. My master, as I called him, was a short square-built man, about sixty years of age, as I afterwards estimated from recollection and comparison. His hair fell down his back in thick clusters and was still of a dark colour, and his beard was full two feet long and very bushy; indeed, he was covered with hair, wherever his person was exposed. He was, I should say, very powerful had he had occasion to exert his strength, but with the exception of the time at which we collected the birds, and occasionally going up the ravine to bring down faggots of wood, he seldom moved out of the cabin, unless it was to bathe. There was a pool of salt-water of about twenty yards square, near the sea, but separated from it by a low ridge of rocks, over which the waves only beat when the sea was rough and the wind on that side of the island. Every morning almost we went down to bathe in that pool, as it was secure from the sharks, which were very numerous. I could swim like a fish as early as I can recollect, but whether I was taught, or learned myself, I cannot tell. Thus was my life passed away; my duties were trifling; I had little or nothing to employ myself about, for I had no means of employment. I seldom heard the human voice, and became as taciturn as my companion. My amusements were equally confined--looking down into the depths of the ocean, as I lay over the rocky wall which girted the major portion of the island, and watching the motions of the finny tribes below, wondering at the stars, during the night season, eating, and sleeping. Thus did I pass away an existence without pleasure and without pain. As for what my thoughts were I can hardly say, my knowledge and my ideas were too confined for me to have any food for thought. I was little better than a beast of the field, who lies down on the pasture after he is filled. There was one great source of interest, however, which was to listen to the sleeping talk of my companion, and I always looked forward to the time when the night fell and we repaired to our beds. I would lie awake for hours, listening to his ejaculations and murmured speech, trying in vain to find out some meaning in what he would say--but I gained little; he talked of "that woman"--appearing to be constantly with other men, and muttering about something he had hidden away. One night, when the moon was shining bright, he sat up in his bed, which, as I have before said, was on the floor of the cabin, and throwing aside the feathers upon which he had been lying, scratched the mould away below them and lifted up a piece of board. After a minute he replaced everything, and lay down again. He evidently was sleeping during the whole time. Here, at last, was something to feed my thoughts with. I had heard him say in his sleep that he had hidden something--this must be the hiding-place. What was it? Perhaps I ought here to observe that my feelings towards this man were those of positive dislike, if not hatred; I never had received one kind word or deed from him, that I could recollect. Harsh and unfeeling towards me, evidently looking upon me with ill-will, and only suffering me because I saved him some trouble, and perhaps because he wished to have a living thing for his companion, his feelings towards me were reciprocated by mine towards him. What age I was at the time my mother died, I know not, but I had some faint recollection of one who treated me with kindness and caresses, and these recollections became more forcible in my dreams, when I saw a figure very different from that of my companion (a female figure) hanging over me or leading me by the hand. How I used to try to continue those dreams, by closing my eyes again after I had woke up! And yet I knew not that they had been brought about by the dim recollection of my infancy; I knew not that the figure that appeared to me was the shadow of my mother; but I loved the dreams because I was treated kindly in them. But a change took place by the hand of Providence. One day, after we had just laid in our yearly provision of sea-birds, I was busy arranging the skins of the old birds, on the flat rock, for my annual garment, which was joined together something like a sack, with holes for the head and arms to pass through; when, as I looked to seaward, I saw a large white object on the water. "Look, master," said I, pointing towards it. "A ship, a ship!" cried my companion. "Oh," thought I, "that is a ship; I recollect that he said they came here in a ship." I kept my eyes on her, and she rounded to. "Is she alive?" inquired I. "You're a fool," said the man; "come and help me to pile up this wood, that we may make a signal to her. Go and fetch some water and throw on it, that there may be plenty of smoke. Thank God, I may leave this cursed hole at last!" I hardly understood him, but I went for the water and brought it in the mess kid. "I want more wood yet," said he. "Her head is this way, and she will come nearer." "Then she is alive," said I. "Away, fool!" said he, giving me a cuff on the head; "get some more water and throw on the wood." He then went into the cabin to strike a light, which he obtained by a piece of iron and flint, with some fine dry moss for tinder. While he was so employed, my eyes were fixed on the vessel, wondering what it could be. It moved through the water, turned this way and that. "It must be alive," thought I; "is it a fish or a bird?" As I watched the vessel, the sun was going down, and there was not more than an hour's daylight. The wind was very light and variable, which accounted for the vessel so often altering her course. My companion came out with his hands full of smoking tinder, and putting it under the wood, was busy blowing it into a flame. The wood was soon set fire to, and the smoke ascended several feet into the air. "They'll see that," said he. "What then, it has eyes? It must be alive. Does it mind the wind?" inquired I, having no answer to my first remark, "for look there, the little clouds are coming up fast," and I pointed to the horizon, where some small clouds were rising up, and which were, as I knew from experience and constantly watching the sky, a sign of a short but violent gale, or tornado, of which we usually had one, if not two, at this season of the year. "Yes; confound it," replied my companion, grinding his teeth, "it will blow her off! That's my luck." In the meantime, the smoke ascended in the air and the vessel approached nearer and nearer, until she was within, I suppose, two miles of the island, and then it fell quite calm. My companion threw more water on to increase the smoke, and the vessel now hauling up her courses, I perceived that there were people on board, and while I was arranging my ideas as to what the vessel might be, my companion cried out--"They see us, they see us! There's hope now. Confound it, I've been here long enough. Hurrah for old England!" and he commenced dancing and capering about like a madman. At last he said: "Look out, and see if she sends a boat, while I go into the cabin." "What's a boat?" said I. "Out, you fool! Tell me if you see anything." "Yes, I do see something," replied I. "Look at the squall coming along the water, it will be here very soon; and see how thick the clouds are getting up: we shall have as much wind and rain as we had the time before last, when the birds came." "Confound it," replied he, "I wish they'd lower a boat, at all events;" and so saying, he went into the cabin, and I perceived that he was busy at his bed-place. My eyes were still fixed upon the squall, as I watched it advancing at a furious speed on the surface of the water; at first it was a deep black line on the horizon, but as it approached the vessel, changed to white; the surface of the water was still smooth. The clouds were not more than ten degrees above the horizon, although they were thick and opaque but at this season of the year, these tornados, as I may call them, visited us; sometimes we had one, sometimes more, and it was only when these gusts came on that we had any rain below. On board of the vessel--I speak now from my after knowledge--they did not appear to be aware of the danger the sails were all set and flapping against the masts. At last, I perceived a small object close to the vessel; this I presumed was the boat which my companion looked for. It was like a young vessel close to the old one, but I said nothing, as I was watching and wondering what effect the rising wind would have upon her; for the observations of my companion had made me feel that it was important. After a time, I perceived that the white sails were disappearing, and that the forms of men were very busy, and moving on board, and the boat went back to the side of the vessel. The fact is, they had not perceived the squall until it was too late, for in another moment almost, I saw that the vessel bowed down to the fury of the gale, and after that, the mist was so great that I couldn't see her any more. "Is she sending a boat, boy?" cried my companion. "I can't see her," replied I; "for she is hidden by the wind." As I said this, the tornado reached to where we stood, and threw me off my legs to the entrance of the cabin; and with the wind came down a torrent of rain, which drenched us, and the clouds covered the whole of the firmament, which became dark; the lightning darted in every direction, with peals of thunder which were deafening. I crawled into the cabin, into which the rain beat in great fury and flowed out again in a small river. My companion sat near me, lowering and silent. For two hours, the tornado lasted without interruption; the sun had set, and the darkness was opaque. It was impossible to move against the force of the wind and the deluge of water which descended. Speak we did not, but shut our eyes against the lightning, and held our fingers to our ears to deaden the noise of the thunder, which burst upon us in the most awful manner. My companion groaned at intervals, whether from fear, I know not; I had no fear, for I did not know the danger, or that there was a God to judge the earth. Gradually the fury of the gale abated, the rain was only heavy at intervals, and we could now hear the beating of the waves, as they dashed against the rocks beneath us. The sky also cleared up a little, and we could dimly discern the white foam of the breakers. I crawled out of the cabin, and stood upon the platform in front, straining my eyes to see the vessel: A flash of lightning for a second revealed her to me; she was dismasted, rolling in the awful breakers, which bore her down upon the high rocks not a quarter of a mile from her. "There it is," exclaimed I, as the disappearance of the lightning left me in darkness, more opaque than ever. "She's done for," growled my companion, who, I was not till then aware, stood by my side. "No hopes this time, confound it!" Then he continued for some time to curse and swear awfully, as I afterwards discovered, for I did not then know what was cursing and swearing. "There she is again," said I, as another flash of lightning revealed the position of the vessel. "Yes, and she won't be there long; in five minutes she'll be dashed to atoms and every soul perish." "What are souls?" inquired I. My companion gave me no reply. "I will go down to the rocks," said I, "and see what goes on." "What," said he, "and share their fate?" CHAPTER THREE. I left him, and commenced a careful descent of the precipices by which we were surrounded, but, before I had gone fifty paces, another flash of lightning was followed up by a loud shriek, which arrested my steps. Where the noise came from I could not tell, but I heard my companion calling to me to come back. I obeyed him, and found him standing where I had left him. "You called me, master?" "Yes, I did; take my hand and lead me to the cabin." I obeyed him, wondering why he asked me so to do. He gained his bed-place, and threw himself down on it. "Bring the kid full of water," said he--"quick!" I brought it, and he bathed his head and face. After a time, he threw himself back upon the bed-place, and groaned heavily. "O God! It's all over with me," said he at last. "I shall live and die in this cursed hole." "What's the matter, master?" said I. He gave me no answer, but lay groaning and occasionally cursing. After a time, he was still, and then I went out again. The tornado was now over, and the stars were to be seen here and there, but still the wind was strong and the wild clouds flew fast. The shores of the island were one mass of foam, which was dashed high in the air and fell upon the black rocks. I looked for the vessel, and could see nothing--the day was evidently dawning, and I sat down and waited its coming. My companion was apparently asleep, for he lay without motion or noise. That some misfortune had happened, I was convinced, but what I knew not, and I passed a long time in conjecture, dividing my thoughts between him and the vessel. At last the daylight appeared--the weather was moderating fast, although the waves still beat furiously against the rocky shore. I could see nothing of the vessel, and I descended the path, now slippery and insecure from the heavy fall of rain, and went as near to the edge of the rocks as the breaking billows would permit. I walked along, occasionally drenched by the spray, until I arrived where I had last seen the vessel. The waves were dashing and tossing about, as if in sport, fragments of timber, casks, and spars; but that was all I could see, except a mast and rigging, which lay alongside of the rocks, sometimes appearing above them on the summit of the waves, then descending far out of my sight, for I dared not venture near enough to the edge to look over. "Then the vessel is dashed to pieces, as my companion said," thought I. "I wonder how she was made." I remained about an hour on the rocks, and then turned back to the cabin. I found my companion awake, and groaning heavily. "There is no ship," said I, "nothing but pieces of wood floating about." "I know that," replied he; "but what do I care now?" "I thought by your making a smoke, that you did care." "Yes, I did then, but now I am blind, I shall never see a ship or anything else again. God help me! I shall die and rot on this cursed island." "Blind, what is blind?" inquired I. "The lightning has burned out my eyes, and I can see nothing--I cannot help myself--I cannot walk about--cannot do anything, and I suppose you will leave me here to die like a dog." "Can't you see me?" "No, all is dark, dark as night, and will be as long as I live." And he turned on his bed-place and groaned. "I had hope, I lived in hope--it has kept me alive for many weary years, but now hope is gone, and I care not if I die to-morrow." And then he started up and turned his face towards me, and I saw that there was no light in his eyes. "Bring me some more water, do you hear?" said he angrily. "Be quick, or I'll make you." But I now fully comprehended his condition and how powerless he was. My feelings, as I have before said, were anything but cordial towards him, and this renewed violence and threatening manner had its effect. I was now, I suppose, about twelve or thirteen years old--strong and active. I had more than once felt inclined to rebel, and measure my strength against his. Irritated, therefore, at his angry language, I replied-- "Go for the water yourself." "Ah!" sighed he, after a pause of some seconds, "that I might have expected. But let me once get you into my hands, I'll make you remember it." "I care not if I were in your hands," replied I; "I am as strong as you." For I had thought so many a day, and meant to prove it. "Indeed! Well, come here, and let us try." "No, no," replied I, "I'm not such a fool as you say I am--not that I'm afraid of you; for I shall have an axe in my hand always ready, and you will not find another." "I wish that I had tossed you over the cliffs when you were a child," said he, bitterly, "instead of nursing you and bringing you up." "Then why have you not been kind to me? As far back as I can remember you have always treated me ill; you have made me work for you; and yet never even spoken kindly to me. I have wanted to know things, and you have never answered my questions, but called me a fool, and told me to hold my tongue. You have made me hate you; and you have often told me how you hated me--you know you have." "It's true, quite true," replied he, as if talking to himself. "I have done all that he says, and I have hated him. But I have had cause. Come here, boy." "No;" replied I, "do you come here. You have been master, and I have been boy, long enough. Now I am master and you are boy, and you shall find it so." Having said this, I walked out of the cabin and left him. He cried out, "Don't leave me;" but I heeded him not, and sat down at the edge of the flat ledge of the rock before the cabin. Looking at the white dancing waves, and deep in my own thoughts, I considered a long while how I should behave towards him. I did not wish him to die, as I knew he must if I left him. He could not obtain water from the rill without a great chance of falling over the cliff. In fact, I was now fully aware of his helpless state; to prove it to myself, I rose and shut my own eyes; tried if I could venture to move on such dangerous ground, and I felt sure that I could not. He was then in my power; he could do nothing; he must trust to me for almost everything. I had said, let what would follow, I would be master and he boy; but that could not be, as I must still attend upon him, or he would die. At last the thought came suddenly upon me--I will be master, nevertheless, for now he shall answer me all my questions, tell me all he knows, or he shall starve. He is in my power. He shall now do what I have ever tried to make him do, and he has ever refused. Having thus arranged my plans, I returned to the cabin, and said to him: "Hear what I say--I will be kind to you, and not leave you to starve, if you will do what I ask." "And what is that?" replied he. "For a long while I have asked you many questions, and you have refused to answer them. Instead of telling me what I would know, you have beaten me or thrown stones at me, called me names, and threatened me. I now give you your choice--either you shall promise to answer every question that I put to you, or you may live how you can, for I shall leave you to help yourself. If you do as I wish, I will do all I can to help you, but if you will not, thank yourself for what may happen. Recollect, I am master now; so take your choice." "Well," replied he, slowly, "it's a judgment upon me, and I must agree to it. I will do what you wish." "Well, then, to begin," said I, "I have often asked you what your name was, and what was mine. I must call you something, and Master I will not, for I am master now. What is your name?" He groaned, ground his teeth, and then said, "Edward Jackson." "Edward Jackson! Very well; and my name?" "No, I cannot bear the name. I cannot say it," replied he angrily. "It it so," replied I. "Then I leave you." "Will you bring me some water for my eyes? They burn," said he. "No, I will not, nor anything else, unless you tell me my name." "Frank Henniker--and curses on it!" "Frank Henniker. Well, now you shall have the water." I went out, filled a kid, and put it by his side. "There is the water, Jackson; if you want anything, call me. I shall be outside." "I have gained the mastery," thought I,--"it will be my turn now. He don't like to answer, but he shall, or he shall starve. Why does he feel so angry at my name? Henniker! What is the meaning of Henniker, I wonder? I will make him tell me. Yes, he shall tell me everything." I may here observe, that as for pity and compassion, I did not know such feelings. I had been so ill-treated, that I only felt that might was right; and this right I determined upon exercising to the utmost. I felt an inconceivable pleasure at the idea of my being the master, and he the boy. I felt the love of power, the pride of superiority. I then revolved in my mind the daily task which I would set him before he should receive his daily sustenance. He should talk now as much as I pleased, for I was the master. I had been treated as a slave, and I was now fully prepared to play the tyrant. Mercy and compassion I knew not. I had never seen them called forth, and I felt them not. I sat down on the flat rock for some time, and then it occurred to me that I would turn the course of the water which fell into the hole at the edge of the cliff; so that if he crawled there, he would not be able to obtain any. I did so, and emptied the hole. The water was now only to be obtained by climbing up, and it was out of his power to obtain a drop. Food, of course, he could obtain, as the dried birds were all piled up at the farther end of the cabin, and I could not well remove them; but what was food without water? I was turning in my mind what should be the first question put to him; and I had decided that I would have a full and particular account of how the vessel had been wrecked on the island, and who were my father and mother, and why I was named Henniker--when I was roused by hearing Jackson (as I shall in future call him) crying out, "Boy, boy!" "Boy, indeed," thought I--"no longer boy," and I gave no reply. Again he called, and at last he cried out "Henniker," but I had been ruffled by his calling me boy, and I would not answer him. At last he fairly screamed my name, and then was silent. After a moment, I perceived that he crawled out of his bed-place, and feeling by the sides of the cabin, contrived on his hands and knees to crawl in the direction of the hole into which the water had previously been received; and I smiled at what I knew would be his disappointment when he arrived there. He did so at last: put his hand to feel the edge of the hole, and then down into it to feel for the water; and when he found that there was none, he cursed bitterly, and I laughed at his vexation. He then felt all the way down where the water had fallen, and found that the course of it had been stopped, and he dared not attempt anything further. He dashed his clenched hand against the rock. "Oh! That I had him in this grasp--if it were but for one moment. I would not care if I died the next." "I do not doubt you," replied I to him, above; "but you have not got me in your hands, and you will not. Go in to bed directly--quick," cried I, throwing a piece of rock at him, which hit him on the head. "Crawl back as fast as you can, you fool, or I'll send another at your head directly. I'll tame you, as you used to say to me." The blow on the head appeared to have confused him; but after a time he crawled back to his bed-place, and threw himself down with a heavy groan. CHAPTER FOUR. I then went down to the water's edge to see if I could find anything from the wreck, for the water was smooth, and no longer washed over the rocks of the island. Except fragments of wood, I perceived nothing until I arrived at the pool where we were accustomed to bathe; and I found that the sea had thrown into it two articles of large dimensions-- one was a cask of the size of a puncheon, which lay in about a foot of water farthest from the seaward; and the other was a seaman's chest. What these things were I did not then know, and I wish the reader to recollect that a great portion of this narrative is compiled from after knowledge. The cask was firm in the sand, and I could not move it. The chest was floating; I hauled it on the rocks without difficulty, and then proceeded to open it. It was some time before I could discover how, for I had never seen a lock or a hinge in my life; but at last, finding that the lid was the only portion of the chest which yielded, I contrived, with a piece of rock, to break it open. I found in it a quantity of seamen's clothes, upon which I put no value; but some of the articles I immediately comprehended the use of, and they filled me with delight. There were two new tin pannikins, and those would hold water. There were three empty wine-bottles, a hammer, a chisel, gimlet, and some other tools, also three or four fishing-lines many fathoms long. But what pleased me most were two knives, one shutting up, with a lanyard sheath to wear round the waist; and the other an American long knife, in a sheath, which is usually worn by them in the belt. Now, three or four years back, Jackson had the remains of a clasp knife--that is, there was about an inch of the blade remaining--and this, as may be supposed, he valued very much; indeed, miserable as the article was, in our destitute state it was invaluable. This knife he had laid on the rock when fishing, and it had been dragged into the sea as his line ran out; and he was for many days inconsolable for its loss. We had used it for cutting open the birds when we skinned them, and, indeed, this remains of a knife had been always in request. Since the loss of it, we had had hard work to get the skins off the birds; I therefore well knew the value of these knives, which I immediately secured. The remainder of the articles in the chest, which was quite full, I laid upon the rocks, with the clothes, to dry; of most of them I did not know the use, and consequently did not prize them at the time. It was not until afterwards, when I had taken them to my companion, that I learned their value. I may as well here observe, that amongst these articles were two books, and from the positive commands of my companion, not to touch the book in the cabin, I looked upon them with a degree of awe, and hesitated upon taking them in my hand; but, at last, I put them out to dry on the rocks, with the rest of the contents of the chest. I felt the knives, the blades were sharp; I put the lanyard of the clasp knife round my neck; the sheath knife, which was a formidable weapon, I made fast round my waist, with a piece of the fishing-lines, which I cut off; and I then turned my steps towards the cabin, as night was coming on, though the moon was high in the heavens, and shining brightly. On my return, I found Jackson in his bed-place; he heard me come in, and asked me in a quiet tone, whether I would bring him some water. I answered-- "No, that I would not, for what he had said about me, and what he would do if he got me into his power. I'll tame you," cried I. "I'm master now, as you shall find." "You may be," replied he, quickly, "but still that is no reason why you should not let me have some water. Did I ever prevent you from having water?" "You never had to fetch it for me," I rejoined, "or you would not have taken the trouble. What trouble would you take for me, if I were blind now and not you? I should become of no use to you, and you would leave me to die. You only let me live that you might make me work for you, and beat me cruelly. It's my turn now--you're the boy, and I'm the master." The reader must remember that I did not know the meaning of the word "boy;" my idea of it was, that it was in opposition to "master," and boy, with me, had the same idea as the word "slave." "Be it so," replied he, calmly. "I shall not want water long." There was a quietness about Jackson which made me suspect him, and the consequence was, that, although I turned into my bed-place, which was on the ground at the side of the cabin opposite to his, I did not feel inclined to go to sleep, but remained awake, thinking of what had passed. It was towards morning when I heard him move; my face being turned that way, I had no occasion to stir to watch his motions. He crept very softly out of his bed-place towards me, listening, and advancing on his knees, not more than a foot every ten seconds. "You want me in your grasp," thought I; "come along," and I drew my American knife from its sheath, without noise, and awaited his approach, smiling at the surprise he would meet with. I allowed him to come right up to me; he felt the side of my bed, and then passed his right hand over to seize me. I caught his right hand with my left, and passing the knife across his wrist, more than half divided it from his arm. He gave a shriek of surprise and pain, and fell back. "He has a knife," exclaimed he, with surprise, holding his severed wrist with the other hand. "Yes, he has a knife, and more than one," replied I; "and you see that he knows how to use it. Will you come again? Or will you believe that I am master?" "If you have any charity or mercy, kill me at once," said he, as he sat up in the moonlight, in the centre of the floor of the cabin. "Charity and mercy," said I, "what are they? I never heard of them." "Alas! No," replied he, "I have showed none--it's a judgment on me--a judgment on me for my many sins; Lord, forgive me! First my eyes, now my right hand useless. What next, O Lord of Heaven?" "Why, your other hand next," replied I, "if you try it again." Jackson made no reply. He attempted to crawl back to his bed, but, faint with loss of blood, he dropped senseless on the floor of the cabin. I looked at him, and, satisfied that he would make no more attempts upon me, I turned away, and fell fast asleep. In about two hours I awoke, and looking round, perceived him lying on the floor, where he had fallen the night before. I went to him and examined him-- was he asleep; or was he dead? He lay in a pool of blood. I felt him, and he was quite warm. It was a ghastly cut on his wrist, and I thought, if he is dead, he will never tell me what I want to know. I knew that he bound up cuts to stop the blood. I took some feathers from the bed, and put a handful on the wound. After I had done it, I bound his wrist up with a piece of fishing-line I had taken to secure the sheath knife round my waist, and then I went for some water. I poured some down his throat; this revived him, and he opened his eyes. "Where am I?" said he, faintly. "Where are you?--why, in the cabin," said I. "Give me some more water." I did so, for I did not wish to kill him. I wanted him to live, and to be in my power. After drinking the water, he roused himself, and crawled back to his bed-place. I left him then, and went down to bathe. The reader may exclaim--What a horrid tyrant this boy is--why, he is as bad as his companion. Exactly--I was so; but let the reader reflect that I was made so by education. From the time that I could first remember, I had been tyrannised over; cuffed, kicked, abused, and ill-treated. I had never known kindness. Most truly was the question put by me, "Charity and mercy--what are they?" I never heard of them. An American Indian has kind feelings--he is hospitable and generous-- yet, educated to inflict, and receive, the severest tortures to, and from, his enemies, he does the first with the most savage and vindictive feelings, and submits to the latter with indifference and stoicism. He has, indeed, the kindlier feelings of his nature exercised; still, this changes him not. He has been from earliest infancy brought up to cruelty, and he cannot feel that it is wrong. Now, my position was worse. I had never seen the softer feelings of our nature called into play; I knew nothing but tyranny and oppression, hatred and vengeance. It was therefore, not surprising that when my turn came, I did to others as I had been done by. Jackson had no excuse for his treatment of me, whereas I had every excuse for retaliation. He did know better, I did not. I followed the ways of the world in the petty microcosm in which I had been placed. I knew not of mercy, of forgiveness, charity, or good-will. I knew not that there was a God; I only knew that might was right, and the most pleasurable sensation which I felt was that of anxiety for vengeance, combined with the consciousness of power. After I had bathed, I again examined the chest and its contents. I looked at the books without touching them. "I must know what these mean," thought I, "and I will know." My thirst for knowledge was certainly most remarkable, in a boy of my age; I presume for the simple reason, that we want most what we cannot obtain; and Jackson having invariably refused to enlighten me on any subject, I became most anxious and impatient to satisfy the longing which increased with my growth. CHAPTER FIVE. For three days did Jackson lie on his bed; I supplied him with water, but he did not eat anything. He groaned heavily at times, and talked much to himself, and I heard him ask forgiveness of God, and pardon for his sins. I noted this down for an explanation. On the third day, he said to me: "Henniker, I am very ill. I have a fever coming on, from the wound you have given me. I do not say that I did not deserve it, for I did, and I know that I have treated you ill; and that you must hate me; but the question is, do you wish me to die?" "No," replied I, "I want you to live, and answer all my questions, and you shall do so." "I will do so," replied he. "I have done wrong, and I will make amends. Do you understand me? I mean to say, that I have been very cruel to you, and now I will do all you wish, and answer every question you may put to me, as well as I can." "That is what I want," replied I. "I know it is, but my wound is festering, and must be washed and dressed. The feathers make it worse. Will you do this for me?" I thought a little, and recollected that he was still in my power, as he could not obtain water. I replied, "Yes, I will." "The cord hurts it, you must take it off." I fetched the kid of water, and untied the cord, and took away the feathers, which had matted together with the flow of blood, and then I washed the wound carefully. Looking into the wound, my desire of information induced me to say, "What are these little white cords which are cut through?" "They are the sinews and tendons," replied he, "by which we are enabled to move our hands and fingers; now these are cut through, I shall not have the use of my hand again." "Stop a moment," said I, rising up, "I have just thought of something." I ran down to the point where the chest lay, took a shirt from the rock, and brought it back with me, and tearing it into strips, I bandaged the wound. "Where did you get that linen?" said Jackson. I told him. "And you got the knife there, too," said he, with a sigh. I replied in the affirmative. As soon as I had finished, he told me he was much easier, and said: "I thank you." "What is, I thank you?" replied I. "It means that I am grateful for what you have done." "And what is grateful?" inquired I again. "You never said those words to me before." "Alas, no," replied he, "it had been better if I had. I mean that I feel kindly towards you, for having bound up my wound, and would do any thing for you if I had the power. It means, that if I had my eyesight, as I had a week ago, and was master, as I then was, that I would not kick nor beat you, but be kind to you. Do you understand me?" "Yes," replied I, "I think I do; and if you tell me all I want to know, I shall believe you." "That I will as soon as I am well enough; but now I am too ill--you must wait a day or two, till the fever has left me." Satisfied with Jackson's promise, I tended him carefully, and washed and dressed his wound for the two following days. He said that he felt himself much better, and his language to me was so kind and conciliatory, that I hardly knew what to make of it; but this is certain, that it had a good effect upon me, and gradually the hatred and ill-will that I bore to him wore off, and I found myself handling him tenderly, and anxious not to give him more pain than was necessary, yet without being aware that I was prompted by better feelings. It was on the third morning that he said-- "I can talk to you now; what do you want to know?" "I want to know the whole story of how we came to this island, who my father and mother were, and why you said that you hated me and my name?" "That," said Jackson, after a silence of a few minutes, "will take some time. I could soon tell it you, if it were not for the last question,-- why I hated your name? But the history of your father is so mixed up with mine, that I cannot well tell one without the other. I may as well begin with my own history, and that will be telling you both." "Then tell it me," replied I, "and do not tell me what is not true." "No; I will tell you exactly what it was," replied Jackson; "you may as well know it as not.--Your father and I were both born in England, which you know is your country by birth, and you also know that the language we talk is English." "I did not know it. Tell me something about England before you say any more." I will not trouble the reader with Jackson's description of England, or the many questions which I put to him. It was night-fall before he had finished answering, and before I was satisfied with the information imparted. I believe that he was very glad to hold his tongue, for he complained of being tired, and I dressed his wound and wetted the bandage with cold water for him before he went to sleep. I can hardly describe to the reader the effect which this uninterrupted flow of language had upon me; I was excited in a very strange way, and for many nights after could not sleep for hours. I may say here, I did not understand a great proportion of the meaning of the words used by Jackson; but I gathered it from the context, as I could not always be interrupting him. It is astonishing how fast ideas breed ideas, and how a word, the meaning of which I did not understand when it was first used, became by repetition clear and intelligible; not that I always put the right construction on it; but if I did not find it answer when used at another time to my former interpretation of it, I would then ask and obtain an explanation. This did not, however, occur very often. As for this first night, I was positively almost drunk with words, and remained nearly the whole of it arranging and fixing the new ideas that I had acquired. My feelings towards Jackson also were changed--that is, I no longer felt hatred or ill-will against him. These were swallowed up in the pleasure which he had afforded me, and I looked upon him as a treasure beyond all price,--not but that many old feelings towards him returned at intervals, for they were not so easily disposed of; but still I would not for the world have lost him until I had obtained from him all possible knowledge; and if his wound did not look well when I removed the bandage, I was much more distressed than he was. Indeed, there was every prospect of our ultimately being friends, from our mutual dependence on each other. It was useless on his part, in his present destitute condition, to nourish feelings of animosity against one on whose good offices he was now so wholly dependent, or on my part, against one who was creating for me, I may say, new worlds for imagination and thought to dwell on. On the following morning. Jackson narrated in substance (as near as I can recollect) as follows:-- "I was not intended for a sailor. I was taught at a good school, and when I was ten years old, I was put into a house of business as a clerk, where I remained at the desk all day long, copying into ledgers and day-books, in fact, writing what was required of me. This house was connected with the South American trade." "Where is South America?" said I. "You had better let me tell my story," replied Jackson, "and after I have done, you can ask any questions you like; but if you stop me, it will take a week to finish it; yesterday we lost the whole day." "That's very true," replied I, "then I will do so." "There were two other clerks in the counting-house--the head clerk, whose name was Manvers, and your father, who was in the counting-house but a few months before me. Our master, whose name was Evelyn, was very particular with both your father and myself, scanning our work daily, and finding fault when we deserved it. This occasioned a rivalry between us, which made us both very active, and I received praise quite as often as he did. On Sunday, Mr Evelyn used to ask your father and me to spend the day. We went to church in the forenoon and dined with him. He had a daughter a little younger than we were. She was your mother. Both of us, as we grew up, were very attentive to her, and anxious to be in her good graces. I cannot say which was preferred at first, but I rather think that if anything, I was the favourite during the first two years of our being acquainted with her. I was more lively and a better companion than your father, who was inclined to be grave and thoughtful. We had been about four years in the counting-house, when my mother died--my father had been dead some time before I went into it--and at her death I found my share of her property to amount to about 2,500 pounds. But I was not yet twenty-one years of age. I could not receive it for another year. Mr Evelyn, who had till then every reason to be satisfied with my conduct, used to joke with me, and say that as soon as I was of age, he would allow me, if I chose it, to put the money in the business, and thus obtain a small share in it--and such was my intention, and I looked forward to bright prospects and the hope of one day being married to your mother; and I have no doubt but such would have been the case, had I still conducted myself properly. But, before I was of age, I made some very bad acquaintances, and soon ran into expenses which I could not afford, and the worst was, that I contracted a habit of sitting up late at night, and drinking to excess, which I never have since got over, which proved my ruin then, and has proved my ruin through life. This little fortune of mine not only gave me consequence, but was the cause of my thinking very highly of myself. I now was more particular in my attentions to Miss Evelyn, and was graciously received by her father; neither had I any reason to complain of my treatment from the young lady. As for your father, he was quite thrown into the back-ground. He had no property nor hope of any, except what he might hereafter secure by his diligence and good conduct; and the attention I received from Mr Evelyn, and also the head clerk, who had an idea that I was to be a partner and consequently would become his superior, made him very melancholy and unhappy, for I believe that then he was quite as much in love with Miss Evelyn as I was myself; and I must tell you, that my love for her was unbounded, and she well deserved it. But all these happy prospects were overthrown by my own folly. As soon as it was known that I had property left to me, I was surrounded by many others who requested to be introduced to me, and my evenings were passed in what I considered very good company, but which proved the very reverse. By degrees I took to gambling, and after a time, lost more money than I could afford to pay. This caused me to have recourse to a Jew, who advanced me loans at a large interest to be repaid at my coming of age. Trying to win back my money, I at last found myself indebted to the Jew for the sum of nearly 1,000 pounds. The more that I became involved, the more reckless I became. Mr Evelyn perceived that I kept late hours, and looked haggard, as I well might; indeed, my position had now become very awkward. Mr Evelyn knew well the sum that had been left me, and how was I to account to him for the deficiency, if he proposed that I should put it into the business? I should be ruined in his opinion, and he never, I was convinced, would intrust the happiness of his daughter to a young man who had been guilty of such irregularities. At the same time, my love for her nearly amounted to adoration. Never was there a more miserable being than I was for the last six months previous to my coming of age; and to drown my misery I plunged into every excess, and seldom, if ever, went to bed but in a state of intoxication. Scheme after scheme did I propose to enable me to conceal my fault; but I could hit upon nothing. The time approached; I was within a few days of coming of age, when Mr Evelyn sent for me and then spoke to me seriously, saying, that out of regard to the memory of my father, with whom he had been very intimate, he was willing to allow me to embark my little capital in the business, and that he hoped that by my good conduct and application I might soon become a useful partner. I stammered some reply, which surprised him; and he asked me to be more explicit. I stated that I considered my capital too small to be of much use in such a business as his, and that I preferred trying some quick method of doubling it; that as soon as I had so done I would accept his offer with gratitude. `As you please,' replied he coolly; `but take care, that in risking all, you do not lose all. Of course, you are your own master,' and so saying, he left me, apparently much displeased and mortified. But circumstances occurred, which exposed the whole affair. When in company with my evening companions, I stated my intentions of trying my fortune in the East Indies, not seriously, but talking at random. This came to the ears of the Jew of whom I had borrowed the money; he thought that I intended to leave the kingdom, without taking up my bonds, and immediately repaired to Mr Evelyn's counting-house, to communicate with the head clerk, and ascertain if the report was correct, stating also the sums I was indebted to him. The head clerk informed Mr Evelyn, and on the day upon which I became twenty-one years of age, he sent for me into his private room, and, after some remonstrances, to which I replied very haughtily, it ended in my being dismissed. The fact was, that Mr Evelyn had, since his last interview with me, made inquiries, and finding out I had been living a very riotous life, he had determined upon my leaving his service. As soon as my first burst of indignation was over, I felt what I had lost; my attachment to Miss Evelyn was stronger than ever, and I bitterly deplored my folly; but after a time, as usual, I had recourse to the bottle, and to drowning my cares in intemperance. I tried very hard to obtain an interview with Miss Evelyn previous to my quitting the house, but this Mr Evelyn would not permit, and a few days after, sent his daughter away, to reside, for a time, with a relation in the country. I embarked my capital in the wine-trade, and, could I have restrained myself from drinking, should have been successful, and in a short time might have doubled my property, as I stated to Mr Evelyn; but now I had become an irreclaimable drunkard; and when that is the case, all hope is over. My affairs soon became deranged, and, at the request of my partner, they were wound up, and I found myself with my capital of 1,500 pounds reduced to 1,000 pounds. With this I resolved to try my fortune in shipping; I procured a share in a brig, and sailed in her myself. After a time, I was sufficiently expert to take the command of her, and might have succeeded, had not my habit of drinking been so confirmed. When at Ceylon, I fell sick, and was left behind. The brig was lost, and as I had forgotten to insure my portion of her, I was ruined. I struggled long, but in vain--intemperance was my curse, my bane, the millstone at my neck, which dragged me down: I had education, talents, and energy, and at one time, capital; but all were useless; and thus did I sink down, from captain of a vessel to mate, from mate to second mate, until I at last found myself a drunken sailor before the mast. Such is my general history; to-morrow I will let you know how, and in what way, your father and I met again, and what occurred, up to this present time." But I was too much bewildered and confused with what he had told me, to allow him to proceed, as he proposed. "No, no," replied I. "I now recollect all you have said, although I do not understand. You must first answer my questions, as to the meaning of words I never heard of before. I cannot understand what money is, what gaming is, and a great many more things you have talked about, but I recollect, and can repeat every word that you have said. To-morrow, I will recall it all over, and you shall tell me what I cannot make out; after that you can go on again." "Very well," replied he, "I don't care how long it takes me to answer your questions, for I am not very anxious to tell all about your father and myself." CHAPTER SIX. I can hardly describe to the reader the effect which these conversations with Jackson had upon me at first. If a prisoner were removed from a dark cell, and all at once introduced into a garden full of fruit and flowers, which he never before had an idea were in existence, he could not have been more filled with wonder, surprise, and pleasure. All was novelty and excitement, but at the same time, to a great degree, above my comprehension. I had neither language nor ideas to meet it, and yet I did, to a certain degree, comprehend. I saw not clearly, but sometimes as through a mist, at others through a dark fog, and I could discern little. Every day, however, my increased knowledge of language and terms gave me an increased knowledge of ideas. I gained more by context than I did by any other means, and as I was by degrees enlightened, so my thirst for information and knowledge became every day more insatiable. That much that I considered I understood was erroneous, is certain, for mine was a knowledge, as yet, of theory only. I could imagine to myself, as far as the explanation I received, what such an object might be, and, having made up my ideas on the matter, I was content; further knowledge would, however, incline me to think, and occasionally to decide, that the idea I had formed was incorrect, and I would alter it. Thus did I flounder about in a sea of uncertainty, but still of exciting interest. If any one who has been educated, and has used his eyes in a civilised country, reads an account of people and things hitherto unknown to him, he can, from the description and from his own general knowledge, form a very correct idea of what the country contains. But then he has used his eyes--he has seen those objects between which the parallel or the difference has been pointed out. Now I had not that advantage. I had seen nothing but the sea, rocks, and sea-birds, and had but one companion. Here was my great difficulty, which, I may say, was never surmounted, until I had visited and mixed with civilisation and men. The difficulty, however, only increased my ardour. I was naturally of an ingenious mind, I had a remarkable memory, and every increase of knowledge was to me a source of delight. In fact, I had now something to live for--before I had not; and I verily believe, that if Jackson had been by any chance removed from me at this particular time, I should soon have become a lunatic, from the sudden drying up of the well which supplied my inordinate thirst for knowledge. Some days passed before I asked Jackson to continue his narrative, during which we lived in great harmony. Whether it was that he was deceiving me, and commanding his temper till he had an opportunity of revenge, or whether it was that his forlorn and helpless condition had softened him down, I could not say; but he appeared gradually to be forming an attachment to me; I was, however, on my guard at all times. His wounded wrist had now healed up, but his hand was quite useless, as all the tendons had been severed. I had therefore less to fear from him than before. At my request that he would continue his history, Jackson related as follows:-- "After sailing in vessel after vessel, and generally dismissed after the voyage for my failing of intemperance, I embarked on board a ship bound to Chili, and after having been on the coast for nearly a year, we were about to proceed home with a cargo, when we anchored at Valdivia, previous to our homeward voyage, as we had some few articles to ship at that port. We were again ready for sea, when we heard, from the captain, that he had agreed to take two passengers, a gentleman and his wife, who wished to proceed to England. The cabin was cleared out, and every preparation made to receive them on board, and in the evening the boat was sent on shore for the luggage. I went in the boat, as I thought it likely that the gentleman would give the boat's crew something to drink; nor was I wrong--he gave us four dollars, which we spent immediately in one of the ventas, and were all more or less intoxicated. It had been arranged that the luggage should first be carried on board, and after that, we were to return for the passengers, as we were to sail early in the morning. We pulled off with the luggage, but on our arrival on board, I was so drunk, that the captain would not allow me to return in the boat, and I knew nothing of what had passed until I was roused up the next morning to assist in getting the ship under weigh. We had been under weigh two or three hours, and were clearing the land fast, when the gentleman passenger came on deck; I was then coiling down a rope on the quarter-deck, and as he passed by me, I looked at him, and I recognised him immediately as your father. Years had passed--from a stripling he had grown a man; but his face was not to be mistaken. There he was, apparently a gentleman of property and consideration; and I, what was I? A drunken sailor. All I hoped was, that he would not recognise me. Shortly afterwards he went down again, and returned escorting his wife on deck. Again I took a furtive curious glance, and perceived at once that she was that Miss Evelyn, whom I had once so loved, and by my folly had lost. This was madness. As they stood on the deck, enjoying the cool sea breeze, for the weather was delightfully fine, the captain came up and joined them. I was so confused at my discovery, that I knew not what I was about, and I presume was doing something very awkwardly; for the captain said to me--`Jackson, what are you about, you drunken hound? I suppose you are not sober yet.' At the mention of my name, your father and mother looked at me, and as I lifted up my head to reply to the captain, they eyed me earnestly, and then spoke to each other in a low tone; after which they interrogated the captain. I could not hear what they said, but I was certain they were talking about me, and that they had suspected, if they had not recognised me. I was ready to sink to the deck, and, at the same time, I felt a hatred of your father enter my heart, of which, during his life, I never could divest myself. It was as I supposed; your father had recognised me, and the following morning he came up to me as I was leaning over the gunwale amid ships, and addressed me,--`Jackson,' said he, `I am sorry to find you in this situation. You must have been very unfortunate to have become so reduced. If you will confide your history to me, perhaps I may, when we arrive in England, be able to assist you, and it really will give me great pleasure.' I cannot say that I replied very cordially. `Mr Henniker,' said I, `you have been fortunate, by all appearances, and can therefore afford compassion to those who have not been so; but, sir, in our positions, I feel as if pity was in reality a sort of triumph, and an offer of assistance an insult. I am content with my present position, and will at all events not change it by your interference. I earn my bread honestly. You can do no more. Times may change yet. It's a long road that has no turning to it. I wish you a good morning.' So saying, I turned from him, and walked away forward, with my heart full of bitterness and anger. From that hour he never spoke to me or noticed me again; but the captain was more severe upon me, and I ascribed his severity most unjustly to your father. We were about to go round Cape Horn, when the gale from the S.E. came on, which ended in the loss of the vessel. For several days we strove up against it, but at last the vessel, which was old, leaked so much from straining, that we were obliged to bear up and run before it, which we did for several days, the wind and sea continuing without intermission. At last we found ourselves among these islands, and were compelled occasionally to haul to the wind to clear them. This made her leak more and more, until at last she became water logged, and we were forced to abandon her in haste, during the night, having no time to take anything with us; we left three men on board, who were down below. By the mercy of Heaven we ran the boat into the opening below, which was the only spot where we could have landed. I think I had better stop now, as I have a good deal to tell you yet." "Do then," replied I; "and now I think of it, I will bring up the chest and all the things which were in it, and you shall tell me what they are." I went down and returned with the clothes and linen. There were eight pair of trousers, nine shirts, besides the one I had torn up to bandage his wounds with, two pair of blue trousers, and two jackets, four white duck frocks, some shoes, and stockings. Jackson felt them one by one with his hands, and told me what they were, and how worn. "Why don't you wear some of them?" inquired I. "If you will give me leave, I will," replied he. "Let me have a duck frock and a pair of trousers." I handed the articles to him, and then went back for the rest, which I had left on the rocks. When I returned, with my arms full, I found that he had put them on, and his other clothes were beside him. "I feel more like a Christian now," said he. "A Christian," said I, "what is that?" "I will tell you by-and-bye. It is what I have not been for a long, long while," replied he. "Now, what have you brought this time?" "Here," said I, "what is this?" "This is a roll of duck, to make into frocks and trousers," replied he. "That is bees'-wax." He then explained to me all the tools, sailing-needles, fish-hooks, and fishing-lines, some sheets of writing-paper, and two pens, I had brought up with me. "All these are very valuable," said he, after a pause, "and would have added much to our comfort, if I had not been blind." "There are more things yet," said I; "I will go and fetch them." This time I replaced the remaining articles, and brought up the chest. It was a heavy load to carry up the rocks, and I was out of breath when I arrived and set it down on the cabin floor. "Now I have the whole of them," said I. "Now, what is this?" "That is a spy-glass--but, alas! I am blind--but I will show you how to use it, at all events." "Here are two books," said I. "Give them to me," said he, "and let me feel them. This one is a Bible, I am quite sure by its shape, and the other is, I think, a Prayer-book." "What is a Bible, and what is a Prayer-book?" replied I. "The Bible is the word of God, and the Prayer-book teaches us how to pray to him." "But who is God? I have often heard you say, `O God!' and `God damn'-- but who is he?" "I will tell you to-night, before we go to sleep," replied Jackson, gravely. "Very well, I shall remind you. I have found a little box inside the chest, and it is full of all manner of little things--strings and sinews." "Let me feel them." I put a bundle into his hand. "These are needles and thread for making and mending clothes--they will be useful by-and-bye." At last the whole contents of the chest were overhauled and explained. I could not well comprehend the glass bottles, or how they were made, but I put them, with the pannikins, and everything else, very carefully into the chest again, and hauled the chest to the further end of the cabin, out of the way. Before we went to bed that night, Jackson had to explain to me who God was, but as it was only the commencement of several conversations on the subject, I shall not at present trouble the reader with what passed between us. Jackson appeared to be very melancholy after the conversation we had had on religious matters, and was frequently agitated and muttering to himself. CHAPTER SEVEN. I did not on the following day ask him to resume his narrative relative to my father and mother, as I perceived that he avoided it, and I already had so far changed, as to have consideration for his feelings. Another point had now taken possession of my mind, which was, whether it were possible to learn to read those books which I had found in the chest, and this was the first question that I put to Jackson when we arose on that morning. "How is it possible?" replied he. "Am I not blind--how can I teach you?" "Is there no way?" replied I, mournfully. "Let me think.--Yes, perhaps there is a way--at all events we will try. You know which book I told you was the Prayer-book?" "Oh yes! The small, thin one." "Yes--fetch it here. Now," said he, when I put it into his hand, "tell me; is there a straight line down the middle of the page of the book, so that the words and letters are on both sides of it?" "Yes, there is," replied I; "in every page, as you call it, there is a black line down the middle, and words and letters (I suppose they are) on both sides." "And among the letters there are some larger than others, especially at the side nearest to the margin." "I don't know what margin is." "I mean here," replied he, pointing to the margin of the page. "Yes, there are." "Well then, I will open the book as near as I can guess at the Morning Service, and you tell me if you can find any part of the writing which appears to begin with a large round letter, like--what shall I say?--the bottom of a pannikin." "There is one on this leaf, quite round." "Very well--now get me a small piece of stick, and make a point to it." I did so, and Jackson swept away a small place on the floor of the cabin. "Now," said he, "there are many other prayers which begin with a round O, as the letter is called; so I must first ascertain if this one is the one I require. If it is, I know it by heart, and by that shall be able to teach you all the letters of the alphabet." "What's an alphabet?" "The alphabet is the number of letters invented to enable us to read and write. There are twenty-six of them. Now look, Frank; is the next letter to O the shape of this?" and he drew with the pointed stick the letter U on the ground. "Yes, it is," replied I. "And the next is like this," continued he, drawing the letter R, after he had smoothed the ground and effaced the U. "Yes," replied I. "Well then, to make sure, I had better go on, OUR is one word, and then there is a little space between; and next you come to an F." "Yes," replied I, looking at what he had drawn, and comparing it with the letter in the book. "Then I believe that we are all right, but to make sure, we will go on for a little longer." Jackson then completed the word "Father," and "which art," that followed it, and then he was satisfied. "Now," said he, "out of that prayer I can teach you all the letters, and if you pay attention, you will learn to read." The whole morning was passed in my telling him the different letters, and I very soon knew them all. During the day, the Lord's Prayer was gone through, and as I learnt the words as well as the letters, I could repeat it before night; I read it over to him twenty or thirty times, spelling every word, letter by letter, until I was perfect. This was my first lesson. "Why is it called the Lord's Prayer?" said I. "Because, when our Lord Jesus Christ was asked by his followers in what way they ought to address God, he gave them this prayer to repeat, as being the most proper that they could use." "But who was Jesus Christ?" "He was the Son of God, as I told you yesterday, and at the same time equal with God." "How could he be equal with God, if, as you said yesterday, God sent him down to be killed?" "It was with his own consent that he suffered death: but all this is a mystery which you cannot understand at present." "What's a mystery?" "That which you cannot understand." "Do you understand it yourself?" "No, I do not; I only know that such is the fact; but it is above not only mine, but all men's comprehension. But I tell you honestly, that on these points, I am but a bad teacher; I have paid little attention to them during my life, and as far as religion is concerned, I can only give you the outlines, for I know no more." "But I thought you said that people were to be punished or rewarded when they died, according as they had lived a bad or good life; and that to live a good life, people must be religious, and obey God's commands." "I did tell you so, and I told you the truth; but I did not tell you that I had led a bad life, as I have done, and that I have neglected to pay obedience to God's word and command." "Then you will be punished when you die, will you not?" "Alas! I fear so, child," replied Jackson, putting his hands up to his forehead and hiding his face. "But there is still time," continued he, after a pause; and "O God of mercy!" exclaimed he, "how shall I escape?" I was about to continue the conversation, but Jackson requested that I would leave him alone for a time. I went out and sat on the rock, watching the stars. "And those," he says, "were all made by God." "And God made everything," thought I, "and God lives up beyond those stars." I thought for a long while, and was much perplexed. I had never heard anything of God till the night before, and what Jackson had told me was just enough to make me more anxious and curious; but he evidently did not like to talk on the subject. I tried, after a time, if I could repeat the Lord's Prayer, and I found that I could, so I knelt down on the rock, and looking up to a bright star, as if I would imagine it was God, I repeated the Lord's Prayer to it, and then I rose up and went to bed. This was the first time that I had ever prayed. I had learnt so much from Jackson, latterly, that I could hardly retain what I had learnt; at all events, I had a very confused recollection in my brain, and my thoughts turned from one subject to another, till there was, for a time, a perfect chaos; by degrees things unravelled themselves, and my ideas became more clear; but still I laboured under that half-comprehension of things which, in my position, was unavoidable. But now my mind was occupied with one leading object and wish, which was to learn to read. I thought no more of Jackson's history and the account he might give me of my father and mother, and was as willing as he was that it should be deferred for a time. What I required now was to be able to read the books, and to this object my whole mind and attention were given. Three or four hours in the earlier portion of the day, and the same time in the latter, were dedicated to this pursuit, and my attention never tired or flagged. In the course of, I think, about six weeks, I could read, without hesitation, almost any portion of the Bible or Prayer-book. I required no more teaching from Jackson, who now became an attentive hearer, as I read to him every morning and evening a portion of the Gospel or Liturgy. But I cannot say that I understood many portions which I read, and the questions which I put to Jackson puzzled him not a little, and very often he acknowledged that he could not answer them. As I afterwards discovered, this arose from his own imperfect knowledge of the nature of the Christian religion, which, according to his statement to me, might be considered to have been comprised in the following sentence: "If you do good on earth, you will go to heaven and be happy; if you do ill, you will go to hell and be tormented. Christ came down from heaven to teach us what to do, and how to follow his example; and all that we read in the Bible we must believe." This may be considered as the creed imparted to me at that time. I believe that Jackson, like many others, knew no better, and candidly told me what he himself had been taught to believe. But the season for the return of the birds arrived, and our stock of provender was getting low. I was therefore soon obliged to leave my books, and work hard for Jackson and myself. As soon as the young birds were old enough, I set to my task. And now I found how valuable were the knives which I had obtained from the seaman's chest; indeed, in many points I could work much faster. By tying the neck and sleeves of a duck frock, I made a bag, which enabled me to carry the birds more conveniently, and in greater quantities at a time; and with the knives I could skin and prepare a bird in one quarter of the time. With my fishing-lines also, I could hang up more to dry at one time, so that, though without assistance, I had more birds cured in the same time than when Jackson and I were both employed in the labour. The whole affair, however, occupied me from morning to evening for more than three weeks, by which time the major portion of my provender was piled up at the back of the cabin. I did not, however, lose what I had gained in reading, as Jackson would not let me go away in the morning, or retire to my bed in the evening, without my reading to him a portion of the Bible: indeed he appeared to be quite uncomfortable if I did not do so. At last, the work was ended, and then I felt a strong desire return to hear that portion of Jackson's history connected with my father and mother, and I told him so. He did not appear to be, pleased with my communication, or at all willing to proceed; but as I pressed him hard and showed some symptoms of resolution and rebellion, he reluctantly resumed his narrative. CHAPTER EIGHT. "I wish you to understand," said he, "that my unwillingness to go on with my history proceeds from my being obliged to make known to you the hatred that subsisted between your father and me; but if you will recollect, that we both had, in our early days, been striving to gain the same object--I mean your mother--and also that he had taken, as it were, what I considered to have been my place, in other points--that he had been successful in life, and I had been unfortunate, you must not then be surprised at my hating him as I did." "I understand nothing about your feelings," replied I; "and why he injured you by marrying my mother, I cannot see." "Why, I loved her." "Well, suppose you did, I don't know what love is, and therefore cannot understand it, so tell me the story." "Well then, when I left off, I told you that we had ventured to land upon this island, by running the boat into the bathing-pond; but in so doing, the boat was beaten to pieces, and was of no use afterwards. We landed, eight persons in all; that is, the captain, your father, the carpenter, mate, and three seamen, besides your mother. We had literally nothing in the boat except three axes, two kids, and the two pannikins, which we have indeed now; but as for provisions, or even water, we had none of either. Our first object, therefore, was to search the island to obtain water, and this we soon found at the rill which now runs down by the side of the cabin. It was very fortunate for us that we arrived exactly at the time that the birds had come on the island and had just laid their eggs; if not, we must have perished with hunger, for we had not a fish hook with us, or even a fathom of line. "We collected a quantity of eggs, and made a good meal, although we devoured them raw. While we were running about, or rather climbing about, over the rocks; to find out what chance of subsistence we might have on the island, the captain and your father remained with your mother, who sat down in a sheltered spot near to the bathing-pool. On our return in the evening, the captain called us all together, that he might speak to us; and he said, that if we would do well, we must all act in concert; that it also would be necessary that one should have the command and control of the others; that without such was the case, nothing would go on well;--and he asked us if we did not consider that what he said was true. We all agreed, although I, for one, felt little inclination to do so; but as all the rest said so, I raised no objections. The captain then told us that, as we were all of one opinion, the next point was to decide as to who should have the command; he said, that if it had been on ship-board, he of course would have taken it himself, but now we were on shore, he thought that Mr Henniker was a much more competent person than he was, and he therefore proposed that the command should be given to him, and he, for one, would willingly be under his orders. To this proposal, the carpenter and mate immediately agreed, and at last two of the seamen. I was left alone, but I resisted, saying, that I was not going to be ordered about by a landsman, and that if I were to obey orders, it must be from a thorough-bred seaman. The other two sailors were of my way of thinking, I was sure, although they had given their consent, and I hoped that they would join me, which they appeared very much inclined to do. Your father spoke very coolly, modestly, and prudently. He pointed out that he had no wish to take the command, and that he would cheerfully serve under the captain of the vessel, if it would be more satisfactory to all parties that such should be the case. But the captain and the others were positive, saying that they would not have their choice disputed by such a drunken vagabond as I was, and that if I did not like to remain with them, I might go to any part of the island that I chose. This conference ended by my getting in a passion, and saying that I would not be under your father's orders; and I was seizing one of the axes to go off with it, when the captain caught my arm and wrested it from me, stating that the axe was his property, and then telling me that I was welcome to go where I pleased. "I left them, therefore, and went away by myself to where the birds were hatching, as I wished to secure a supply of eggs. When the night closed in, I lay down upon the guano, and felt no cold; for the gale was now over, and the weather was very mild. "The next morning, when I awoke, I found that the sun had been up some time. I looked for the rest of my companions whom I had quitted, and perceived that they were all busily at work. The sea was quite calm; and, when the vessel went down after we left, many articles had floated, and had been washed to the island. Some of the men were busy collecting spars and planks, which were near the rocks, and pushing them along with the boat-hooks to the direction of the bathing-pond, where they hauled them over the ridge, and secured them. Your father and mother, with the carpenter, were on this ledge where we now are, having selected it as a proper place for building a shelter, and were apparently very busy. The captain and one of the seamen were carrying up what spars and timber could be collected to where your father was standing with the carpenter. All appeared to be active, and working into each other's hands; and I confess that, as I looked on, I envied them, and wished that I had been along with them; but I could not bear the idea of obeying any orders given by your father; and this alone prevented my joining them, and making my excuses for what I had done and said the previous night. I therefore swallowed some more bird's eggs raw, and sat down in the sun, looking at them as they worked. "I soon perceived that the carpenter had commenced operations. The frame of this cabin was, with the assistance of your father, before it was noon, quite complete and put up; and then they all went down to the bathing-place, where the boat was lying with her bottom beaten out. They commenced taking her to pieces and saving all the nails; the other men carried up the portions of the boat as they were ripped off, to where the frame of the cabin had been raised. I saw your mother go up with a load in her hand, which I believed to be the nails taken from the boat. In a couple of hours the boat was in pieces and carried up, and then your father and most of the men went up to assist the carpenter. I hardly need tell what they did, as you have the cabin before you. The roof, you see, is mostly built out of the timbers of the boat; and the lower part out of heavier wood; and a very good job they made of it. Before the morning closed in, one of the sides of the cabin was finished; and I saw them light a fire with the chips that had been cut off with the axes, and they then dressed the eggs and birds which they had collected the first day. "There was one thing which I had quite forgotten when I mutinied and left my companions, which was, the necessity of water to drink; and I now perceived that they had taken possession of the spot where the only water had as yet been found. I was suffering very much from thirst towards the close of the day, and I set off up the ravine to ascertain if there was none to be found in that direction. Before night I succeeded in finding some, as you know, for you have often drunk from the spring when you have gone up for firewood. This gave me great encouragement, for I was afraid that the want of water would have driven me to submission. By way of bravado, I tore off; and cut with my knife, as many boughs of the underwood on the ravine as I well could carry, and the next morning I built a sort of wigwam for myself on the guano, to show them that I had a house over my head as well as they had; but I built it further up to the edge of the cliff, above the guano plain, so that I need not have any communication with those who I knew would come for eggs and birds for their daily sustenance. "Before the night of the following day set in, the cabin was quite finished. "The weather became warmer every day, and I found it very fatiguing to have to climb the ravine two or three times a day to procure a drink of water, for I had nothing to hold water in, and I thought that it would be better that I should take up my quarters in the ravine, and build myself a wigwam among the brushwood close to the water, instead of having to make so many journeys for so necessary an article. I knew that I could carry eggs in my hat and pocket-handkerchief sufficient for two or three days at one trip; so I determined that I would do so; and the next morning I went up the ravine, loaded with eggs, to take up my residence there. In a day or two I had built my hut of boughs, and made it very comfortable. I returned for a fresh supply of eggs on the third day, with a basket I had constructed out of young boughs, and which enabled me to carry a whole week's sustenance. Then I felt quite satisfied, and made up my mind that I would live as a hermit during my sojourn on the island, however long it might be; for I preferred anything to obeying the orders of one whom I detested as I did your father. "It soon was evident, however, how well they had done in selecting your father as their leader. They had fancied that the birds would remain on the island, and that thus they would always be able to procure a supply. Your father, who had lived so long in Chili, knew better, and that in a few weeks they would quit their nesting-place. He pointed this out to them, showing them what a mercy it was that they had been cast away just at this time, and how necessary it was to make a provision for the year. But this they could not imagine that it was possible to do without salt to cure the birds with; but he knew how beef was preserved without salt on the continent, and showed them how to dry the birds in the sun. While therefore I was up in the ravine, they were busy collecting and drying them in large quantities, and before the time of the birds leaving they had laid up a sufficient supply. It was he also that invented the fishing-lines out of the sinews of the legs of the birds, and your mother who knotted them together. At first, they caught fish with some hooks made of nails, but your father showed them the way to take them without a hook, as you have learnt from me, and which he had been shown by some of the Indians on the continent. "Owing to your father, they were well prepared when the birds flew away with their young ones, while I was destitute. Previous to the flight, I had fared but badly, for the eggs contained the young birds half formed, and latterly so completely formed that I could not eat them; and as I had no fire, and did not understand drying them, I had no alternative but eating the young birds raw, which was anything but pleasant. I consoled myself, however, with the idea that your father and mother and the rest were faring just as badly as myself, and I looked forward to the time when the birds would begin to lay eggs again, when I resolved to hoard up a much larger supply while they were fresh. But my schemes were all put an end to, for in two days, after a great deal of noise and flying about in circles, all the birds, young and old, took wing, and left me without any means of future subsistence. "This was a horrid discovery, and I was put to my wits' ends. I wandered over the guano place, and, after the third day of their departure, was glad to pick up even a dead bird with which to appease my hunger. At the same time, I wondered how my former companions got on, for I considered that they must be as badly off as I was. I watched them from behind the rocks, but I could perceive no signs of uneasiness. There was your mother sitting quietly on the level by the cabin, and your father or the captain talking with her. I perceived, however, that two of the party were employed fishing off the rocks, and I wondered where they got their fishing-lines; and at last I concluded that it was by catching fish that they supported themselves. This, however, did not help me--I was starving, and starvation will bring down the pride of any man. On the fifth day, I walked down to the rocks, to where one of the seamen was fishing, and having greeted him, I told him that I was starving, and asked for something to eat. "`I cannot help you,' replied he; `I have no power to give anything away; it is more than I dare do. You must apply to Mr Henniker, who is the governor now. What a foolish fellow you were to mutiny, as you did; see what it has brought you to.' "`Why,' replied I, `if it were not for fishing, you would not be better off than I am.' "`Oh yes we should be; but we have to thank him for that--without him, I grant, we should not have been. We have plenty of provisions, although we fish to help them out.' "This puzzled me amazingly, but there was no help for it. I could starve no longer, so up I went to the level where your father was standing with the captain, and in a swaggering sort of tone, said that I had come back, and wanted to join my comrades. The captain looked at me and referred me to your father, who said that he would consult with the rest when they came to dinner, as without their permission he could do nothing; and then they both turned away. In the meantime I was ravenous with hunger, and was made more so by perceiving that two large fish were slowly baking on the embers of the fire, and that your mother was watching them. However, there was no help for it, and I sat down at some little distance, anxiously waiting for the return of the rest of the party, when my fate would be decided. My pride was now brought down so low, that I could have submitted to any terms which might have been dictated. In about two hours they were all assembled to dinner, and I remained envying every morsel that they ate, until the repast was finished; when, after some consultation, I was ordered to approach-- which I did--and your father addressed me: `Jackson, you deserted us, when you might have been very useful, and when our labour was severe; now that we have worked hard, and made ourselves tolerably comfortable, you request to join us, and partake with us of the fruits of our labour and foresight. You have provided nothing, we have--the consequence is, that we are in comparative plenty, while you are starving. Now I have taken the opinion of my companions, and they are all agreed, that as you have not assisted when you were wanted, should we now allow you to join us, you will have to work more than the others to make up an equivalent. It is therefore proposed that you shall join us on one condition, which is, that during the year, till the birds again visit the island, it will be your task to go up to the ravine every day, and procure the firewood which is required. If you choose to accept these terms, you are permitted to join, always supposing that to all the other rules and regulations which we have laid down for our guidance, you will be subject as well as we are. These are our terms, and you may decide as you think proper.' I hardly need say, that I gladly accepted them, and was still more glad when the remnants of the dinner were placed before me: I was nearly choked, I devoured with such haste until my appetite was appeased. "When this was done, I thought over the conditions which I had accepted, and my blood boiled at the idea that I was to be in a manner the slave to the rest, as I should have to work hard every day. I forgot that it was but justice, and that I was only earning my share of the year's provisions, which I had not assisted to collect. My heart was still more bitter against your father, and I vowed vengeance if ever I had an opportunity; but there was no help for it. Every day I went up with a piece of cord and an axe, cut a large fagot of wood, and brought it down to the cabin. It was hard work, and occupied me from breakfast to dinner-time, and I had no time to lose if I wanted to be back for dinner. The captain always examined the fagot, and ascertained that I had brought down a sufficient supply for the day's consumption." CHAPTER NINE. "A year passed away, during which I was thus employed. At last, the birds made their appearance, and after we had laid up our annual provision, I was freed from my task, and had only to share the labour with others. It was now a great source of speculation how long we were likely to remain on the island; every day did we anxiously look out for a vessel, but we could see none, or if seen, they were too far off from the island to permit us to make signals to them. At last we began to give up all hope, and, as hope was abandoned, a settled gloom was perceptible on most of our faces. I believe that others would have now mutinied as well as myself, if they had known what to mutiny about. Your father and mother were the life and soul of the party, inventing amusements, or narrating a touching story in the evenings, so as to beguile the weary time. Great respect was paid to your mother, which she certainly deserved; I seldom approached her; she had taken a decided dislike to me, arising, I presume, from my behaviour towards her husband; for now that I was again on a footing with the others, I was as insolent to him as I dared to be, without incurring the penalty attached to insubordination, and I opposed him as much as I could in every proposal that he brought forward--but your father kept his temper, although I lost mine but too often. The first incident which occurred of any consequence, was the loss of two of the men, who had, with your father's permission, taken a week's provisions, with the intention of making a tour round the island, and ascertaining whether any valuable information could be brought back: they were the carpenter and one of the seamen. It appears, that during their return, as they were crossing the highest ridge, they, feeling very thirsty, and not finding water, attempted to refresh themselves by eating some berries which they found on a plant. These berries proved to be strong poison, and they returned very ill. After languishing a few days, they both died. "This was an event which roused us up, and broke the monotony of our life; but it was one which was not very agreeable to dwell upon, and yet, at the same time, I felt rather pleasure than annoyance at it--I felt that I was of more consequence, and many other thoughts entered my mind which I shall not now dwell upon. We buried them in the guano, under the first high rock, where, indeed, the others were all subsequently buried. Three more months passed away, when the other seaman was missing. After a search, his trousers were found at the edge of the rock. He had evidently been bathing in the sea, for the day on which he was missed, the water was as smooth as glass. Whether he had seen something floating, which he wished to bring to land, or whether he had ventured for his own amusement, for he was an excellent swimmer, could never be ascertained--any more than whether he had sunk with the cramp,--or had been taken down by a shark. He never appeared again, and his real fate is a mystery to this day, and must ever remain so. Thus were we reduced to four men--your father, the captain, the mate, and me. But you must be tired--I will stop now, and tell you the remainder some other time." Although I was not tired, yet, as Jackson appeared to be so, I made no objections to his proposal, and we both went to sleep. While I had read the Bible to Jackson, I had often been puzzled by numbers being mentioned, and never could understand what was meant; that is, I could form no idea of the quantity represented by seventy or sixty, or whatever it might be. Jackson's answer was, "Oh! It means a great many; I'll explain to you by-and-bye, but we have nothing to count with, and as I am blind, I must have something in my hand to teach you." I recollected that at the bathing-pool there were a great many small shells on the rocks, about the size of a pea; there were live fish in them, and they appeared to crawl on the rocks. I collected a great quantity of these, and brought them up to the cabin, and requested Jackson would teach me to count. This he did, until he came to a thousand, which he said was sufficient. For many days I continued to count up to a hundred, until I was quite perfect, and then Jackson taught me addition and subtraction to a certain degree, by making me add and take away from the shells, and count the accumulation, or the remainder. At last, I could remember what I had gained by manipulation, if I may use the term; but further I could not go, although addition had, to a degree, made me master of multiplication, and subtraction gave me a good idea of division. This was a new delight to me, and occupied me for three or four weeks. At last I had, as I thought, learned all that he could teach me in his blind state, and I threw away the shells, and sighed for something more. Of a sudden it occurred to me, that I had never looked into the book which still lay upon the shelf in the cabin, and I saw no reason now that I should not; so I mentioned it to Jackson, and asked him why I might not have that book? "To be sure you may," replied he; "but you never asked for it, and I quite forgot it." "But when I asked you before, you were so particular that I should not open it. What was your reason then?" Jackson replied--"I had no reason except that I then disliked you, and I thought that looking into the book would give you pleasure. It belonged to that poor fellow that was drowned; he had left it in the stern-sheets of the boat when we were at Valdivia, and had forgotten it, and we found it there when we landed on the island. Take it down, it will amuse you." I took down the book, and opened it. It was, if I recollect right, called "Mayor's Natural History." At all events, it was a Natural History of Beasts and Birds, with a plate representing each, and a description annexed. It would be impossible for me to convey to the reader my astonishment and delight. I had never seen a picture or drawing in my life. I did not know that such things existed. I was in an ecstasy of delight as I turned over the pages, hardly taking sufficient time to see one object before I hastened on to another. For two or three hours did I thus turn over leaves, without settling upon any one animal; at last my pulse beat more regularly, and I commenced with the Lion. But now what a source of amusement, and what a multitude of questions had to be answered by my companion. He had to tell me all about the countries in which the animals were found; and the description of the animals, with the anecdotes, were a source of much conversation; and, what was more, the fore-grounds and back-grounds of the landscapes with which the animals were surrounded produced new ideas. There was a palm-tree, which I explained to Jackson, and inquired about it. This led to more inquiries. The lion himself occupied him and me for a whole afternoon, and it was getting dark when I lay down, with my new treasure by my side. I had read of the lion in the Scriptures, and now I recalled all the passages; and before I slept I thought of the bear which destroyed the children who had mocked Elisha the prophet, and I determined that the first animal I would read about the next morning should be the bear. I think that this book lasted me nearly two months, during which time, except reading a portion every night and morning to Jackson, the Bible and Prayer-book were neglected. Some times I thought that the book could not be true; but when I came to the birds, I found those which frequented the island so correctly described, that I had no longer any doubt on the subject. Perhaps what interested me most were the plates in which the barn-door fowls and the peacock were described, as in the back-ground of the first were a cottage and figures, representing the rural scenery of England, my own country; and in the second there was a splendid mansion, and a carriage and four horses driving up to the door. In short, it is impossible to convey to the reader the new ideas which I received from these slight efforts of the draftsman to give effect to his drawing. The engraving was also a matter of much wonder, and required a great deal of explanation from Jackson. This book became my treasure, and it was not till I had read it through and through, so as almost to know it by heart, that at length I returned to my Bible. All this time I had never asked Jackson to go on with his narrative; but now that my curiosity was appeased, I made the request. He appeared, as before, very unwilling; but I was pertinacious, and he was worried into it. "There were but four of us left and your mother, and the mate was in a very bad state of health; he fretted very much, poor fellow, for he had left a young wife in England, and what he appeared to fear most was, that she would be married again before he could get home. It ended in a confirmed liver complaint, which carried him off nine months afterwards; and thus was one more of our companions disposed of. He died very quietly, and gave me his sleeve-buttons and watch to deliver to his wife, if ever I should escape from the island. I fear there is little chance of her ever receiving them." "Where are they?" said I, recollecting how I had seen him lift up the board under his bed-place. "I have them safe," replied Jackson, "and it necessary, will tell you where to find them." This reply satisfied me, and I allowed him to proceed. "We buried him in the guano, by the side of the two others, and now we were but three. It was at this time that your mother was confined and you were born; that is, about three months after the death of the mate. We had just finished laying in our stock of birds for the year when she was taken ill, sooner than was expected, and it was supposed that was occasioned by over-exertion at the time. However, she got up very well without any medical assistance, and your father was much pleased at having a son, for he had been married five years without any prospect of a family. I ought to observe, that the loss of our companions, one after another, had had the effect of bringing those that remained much closer together; I was treated with more kindness by both your father and mother, and the captain, and I returned it as well as my feelings would permit me, for I could not altogether get rid of my animosity to your father. However, we became much more confidential, that is certain, and I was now treated as an equal. "Six months passed away and you had become a thriving child, when a melancholy occurrence--" here Jackson covered up his face with his hands and remained for some time silent. "Go on," said I, "Jackson; I know that they all died somehow or another." "Very true," replied he, recovering himself. "Well, your father disappeared. He had gone to the rocks to fish, and when I was sent to bring him home to dinner, he was nowhere to be found. It was supposed that a larger fish than usual had been fast to his line, and that he had been jerked off the rocks into the water, and the sharks had taken him. It was a dreadful affair," continued Jackson, again covering his face. "I think," replied I, "that any man in his senses would have allowed the fish to have taken the line rather than have been dragged into the water. I don't think that the supposed manner of his death is at all satisfactory." "Perhaps not," replied Jackson; "his foot may have slipped, who knows? We only could guess; the line was gone as well as he, which made us think what I said. Still we searched everywhere, but without hope; and our search--that is, the captain's and mine, for your poor mother remained with you in her arms distracted--was the cause of another disaster--no less than the death of the captain. They say misfortunes never come single, and surely this was an instance of the truth of the proverb." "How did he die?" replied I, gravely; for somehow or other I felt doubts as to the truth of what he was saying. Jackson did not reply till after a pause, when he said-- "He was out with me up the ravine collecting firewood, and he fell over the high cliff. He was so injured that he died in half an hour." "What did you do?" "What did I do--what could I do but go back and break the news to your mother, who was distracted when she heard it; for the captain was her friend, and she could not bear me." "Well, go on, pray," said I. "I did all that I could to make your mother comfortable, as there how were but her, you; and I, left on the island. You were then about three years old; but your mother always hated me, and appeared now to hate me more and more. She never recovered the loss of your father, to whom she was devotedly attached; she pined away, and after six months she died, leaving you and me only on the island. Now you know the whole history, and pray do not ask me any more about it." CHAPTER TEN. Jackson threw himself back in his bed-place and was silent. So was I, for I was recalling all that he had told me, and my doubts were raised as to the truth of it. I did not like his hurrying over the latter portion of his narrative in the way which he had done. What he had said about my mother was not satisfactory. I had for some time been gradually drawing towards him, not only showing, but feeling, for him a great increase of good-will; but suspicion had entered my mind, and I now began to feel my former animosity towards him renewed. A night's sleep, however, and more reflection, induced me to think that possibly I was judging him too harshly, and as I could not afford to quarrel with him, our intercourse remained as amicable as before, particularly as he become more and more amiable towards me, and did everything in his power to interest and amuse me. I was one day reading to him the account of a monkey, given in the book of Natural History, in which it is said that that animal is fond of spirits and will intoxicate itself, and Jackson was telling me many anecdotes of monkeys on board of the vessel he had sailed in, when it occurred to me that I had never thought of mentioning to him, or of ascertaining the contents of the cask which had been thrown into the bathing-pool with the seaman's chest, and I did so then to Jackson, wondering at its contents and how they were to be got at. Jackson entered into the question warmly, explaining to me how and where to bore holes with a gimlet, and making two spiles for me to stop the holes with. As soon as he had done so, curiosity induced me to go down to the pool where the cask had been lying so long in about a foot and half water. By Jackson's directions I took a pannikin with me, that I might bring him a specimen of the contents of the cask, if they should prove not to be water. I soon bored the hole above and below, following Jackson's directions, and the liquor, which poured out in a small stream into the pannikin, was of a brown colour and very strong in odour, so strong, indeed, as to make me reel as I walked back to the rocks with the pannikin full of it. I then sat down, and after a time tasted it. I thought I had swallowed fire, for I had taken a good mouthful of it. "This cannot be what Jackson called spirits," said I. "No one can drink this--what can it be?" Although I had not swallowed more than a table-spoonful of it, yet, combined with the fumes of the liquor which I had inhaled when drawing it off into the pannikin, the effect was to make my head swim, and I lay down on the rock and shut my eyes to recover myself. It ended in my falling asleep for many hours, for it was not much after noon when I went to the cask, and it was near sunset when I awoke, with an intense pain, in my head. It was some time before I could recollect where I was, or what had passed, but the pannikin full of liquor by my side first reminded me; and then perceiving how late it was, and how long I must have slept, I rose up, and taking the pannikin in my hand, I hastened to return to the cabin. As I approached, I heard the voice of Jackson, whose hearing, since his blindness, I had observed, had become peculiarly acute. "Is that you, Frank?" "Yes," replied I. "And what has kept you so long?--how you have frightened me. God forgive me, but I thought that I was to be left and abandoned to starvation." "Why should you have thought that?" replied I. "Because I thought that some way or another you must have been killed, and then I must have died, of course. I never was so frightened in my life, the idea of dying here all alone--it was terrible." It occurred to me at the time, that the alarm was all for himself, for he did not say a word about how sorry he should have been at any accident happening to me, but I made no remark, simply stating what had occurred, and my conviction that the contents of the cask were not drinkable. "Have you brought any with you?" inquired he, sharply. "Yes, here it is," said I, giving him the pannikin. He smelt it, and raised it to his lips--took about a wine-glass full of it, and then draw his breath. "This is delightful," said he; "the best of old rum, I never tasted so good. How big did you say that the cask was?" I described it as well as I could. "Indeed, then it must be a whole puncheon--that will last a long while." "But do you mean to say that you really like to drink that stuff?" inquired I. "Do I like to drink it? Yes, it is good for men, but it's death to little boys. It will kill you. Don't you get fond of it. Now promise me that you will never drink a drop of it. You must not get fond of it, or some sad accident will happen to you." "I don't think you need fear my drinking it," replied I. "I have had one taste, as I told you, and it nearly burnt my mouth. I shan't touch it again." "That's right," replied Jackson, taking another quantity into his mouth. "You are not old enough for it; by-and-bye, when you are as old as I am, you may drink it, then it will do you good. Now, I'll go to bed, it's time for bed. Bring the pannikin after me and put it by my side. Take care you don't spill any of it." Jackson crawled to his bed and I followed him with the pannikin, and put it by his side, as he requested, and I returned to my own resting-place, without, however, having the least inclination to sleep, having slept so long during the day. At first Jackson was quiet, but I heard him occasionally applying to the pannikin, which held, I should say, about three half-pints of liquor. At last he commenced singing a sea-song; I was much surprised, as I had never heard him sing before; but I was also much pleased, as it was the first time that I had ever heard anything like melody, for he had a good voice and sang in good tune. As soon as he had finished, I begged him to go on. "Ah!" replied he, with a gay tone I had never heard from him before. "You like songs, do you? My little chap? Well, I'll give you plenty of them. 'Tis a long while since I have sung, but it's a `poor heart that never rejoiceth.' The time was when no one in company could sing a song as I could, and so I can again, now that I have something to cheer my heart. Yes, here's another for you. I shall rouse them all out by-and-bye, as I get the grog in--no fear of that--you find the stuff, and I'll find songs." I was surprised at first at this unusual mirth; but recollecting what Jackson had told me about his intemperance, I presumed that this mirth which it produced was the cause why he indulged so much in it; and I felt less inclined to blame him. At all events, I was much pleased with the songs that he sang to me one after another for three or four hours, when his voice became thick, and, after some muttering and swearing, he was quite silent, and soon afterwards snored loudly. I remained awake some time longer, and then I also sank into forgetfulness. When I awoke the next morning, I found Jackson still fast asleep. I waited for him for our morning meal; but, as he did not wake, I took mine by myself, and then I walked out to the rock, where I usually sat, and looked round the horizon to see if there was anything in sight. The spy-glass, from having been in sea-water, was of no use, and I did not know what to do with it; nor could Jackson instruct me. After I had been out about an hour I returned, and found Jackson still snoring, and I determined to wake him up. I pushed him for some time without success; but, at last, he opened his eyes, and said: "My watch already?" "No;" said I; "but you have slept so long, that I have waked you up." He paused, as if he did not know my voice, and then said: "But I can't see anything; how's this?" "Why, don't you know that you're blind, Jackson?" replied I, with amazement. "Yes, yes; I recollect now. Is there anything in the pannikin?" "Not a drop," replied I; "why, you must have drunk it all." "Yes, I recollect now. Get me some water my good boy; for I am dying with thirst." I went for the water; he drank the whole pannikin, and asked for more. "Won't you have something to eat?" said I. "Eat? Oh no; I can't eat anything. Give me drink;" and he held out his hand for the pannikin. I perceived how it trembled and shook, and I observed it to him. "Yes;" replied he, "that's always the case after a carouse, and I had a good one last night--the first for many a year. But there's plenty more of it. I wish you would get me a little more now, Frank, just to steady me; just about two or three mouthfuls, no more; that is, no more till night time. Did I make much noise last night?" "You sang several songs," replied I, "with which I was much amused." "I'm glad that you liked them. I used to be considered a good singer in my day; indeed, if I had not been such good company, as they term it, I had not become so fond of drinking. Just go and fetch me about half an inch high of the pannikin, my good fellow, that's all I want now." I went down to the cask, drew off the quantity that he requested, and brought it to him. He drank it off; and, in a few moments, appeared to be quite himself again. He then asked for some thing to eat, and commenced telling me a variety of stories relative to what he termed jolly parties in his former days; so that the day passed very agreeably. As the night closed in, he said: "Now, Frank, I know you want to hear some more songs; so go down and bring me up a full pannikin, and I will sing you plenty." I complied with his request, for I was anxious to be again amused as I was the night before. The consequence was, that this night was, in the early portion of it, but a repetition of the previous one. Jackson took the precaution to get into his bed-place before he commenced drinking; and, as soon as he had taken his second dose, he asked me what sort of songs I liked. My reply naturally was, that I had never heard any one sing but him, and therefore could not say. "What did I sing to you last night?" said he. I replied as well as I could. "Ah," said he, "they were all sea-songs; but now I will give you something better." After a little thought, he commenced singing a very beautiful and plaintive one, and certainly much better than he had sung the night before; for he now was sober. The consequence was, that I was still more delighted; and, at my request, he sang several others; but at last his speech became rapid and thick, and he would not sing any more, using some very coarse expressions to me when I asked him. For a time he was silent, and I thought that he was going to sleep, and I was reflecting upon the various effects which the liquor appeared to have upon him, when I heard him talking and muttering, and I listened. "Never mind how I got them," said he; "quite as honestly as other people, Old Moshes. There they are, do you choose to buy them?" Then there was a pause, after which he commenced: "They're as pure diamonds as ever came out of a mine. I know that, so none of your lies, you old Jew. Where did I come by them? That's no concern of yours. The question is, will you give me the price, or will you not? Well, then, I'm off. No, I won't come back, you old thief." Here he swore terribly, and then was silent. After a while he recommenced-- "Who can ever prove that they were Henniker's diamonds?" I started up at the mention of my father's name; I rested with my hands on the floor of the cabin, breathless as to what would come next. "No, no," continued Jackson, "he's dead, and food for fishes--dead men tell no tales--and she's dead, and the captain's dead, all dead--yes, all;" and he gave a bitter groan and was silent. The day was breaking, and I could just see him as he lay; but he said no more, and appeared to breathe heavily. As the sun rose, I got out of my bed-place; and, now that it was broad day light, I looked at Jackson. He was lying on his back; his brow was covered with large drops of perspiration, and his hands were clenched together. Although asleep, he appeared, by the convulsive twitching of the muscles of his face, to be suffering and in great agony. Occasionally he groaned deeply, and his lips appeared to move, but no sound proceeded from them. I perceived that the pannikin of liquor was not finished, one third at least having been left. CHAPTER ELEVEN. I then went out of the cabin and took my usual seat, and began to reflect upon what I had heard. He had talked about diamonds; now I knew what diamonds were, so far as they were of great value, for I had read of them in the Bible, and Jackson had explained the value of precious stones to me, and had told me of diamonds of very great value indeed. Then he said that they were Henniker's diamonds--he must have meant my father, that was positive. And that no one could prove they were his-- this implied that Jackson had no right to them; indeed how could he have? And then I recalled to mind his having a secret hiding-place under his bed, where I presumed the diamonds were deposited. I then turned over in my mind what he had told me relative to the death of my father, the captain, and my mother, how confused he was, and how glad he was to get rid of the subject, and how unsatisfactory I thought his account was at the time. After much cogitation, I made up my mind that Jackson had not told me the truth, and that there was a mystery yet to be explained but how was I to get at it? There was but one way. The liquor made him talk. I would supply him with liquor, and by degrees, I would get the truth out of him. At the same time I would not allow him to suppose that he had said anything to commit himself, or that I had any suspicions. How naturally do we fall into treachery and deceit, from the evil in our own hearts, without any assistance or example from the world. How could I have learnt deceit? Isolated as I had been, must it not have been innate? I returned to the cabin, and woke Jackson without much difficulty, since he had not drunk so much as on the previous night. "How are you this morning?" said I. "Not very well, I have had some bad dreams." "Well, you sang me some beautiful songs," replied I. "Yes, I recollect," said he; "but I fell asleep at last." "Yes, you refused to sing any more, and went off in a loud snore." Jackson got out of his bed-place, and I gave him his meal. We talked during the whole day about singing, and I hummed the air which had pleased me most. "You have got the air pretty correct," said he; "you must have an ear for music. Have you ever tried to sing?" "No, never; you know I have not." "You might have tried when I was not with you. Try now. I will sing a tune, and then do you repeat it after me." He did so, and I repeated it. "Very good," said he. "Let's try the compass of your voice." He ran up the gamut, and I followed him. "I think you can go higher than I can," said he; "however, you go quite high enough, so now I'll give you a singing lesson." Thus were we occupied at intervals during the whole day, for Jackson would not allow me to try my voice too much at first. As the evening fell, he again asked me to fetch some liquor, and as I had three quart wine-bottles, as I before mentioned, which I had found in the chest, I took them down to fill, as it would save me many trips, and be more convenient in every respect. I brought them up full, and Jackson stopped them up with some of the rags which I had torn to bind round his wrist, and put them all three in his bed-place. "That will be a much better arrangement," said he, "as now I can pour out the liquor into the pannikin as I want it; besides, I mean to take a little water with it in future. It's not quite so good with water, but it lasts longer, and one don't go to sleep so soon. Well, I little thought that I should have such a comfort sent me after all my sufferings. I don't so much care now about staying here. Go and fetch some water in the pannikin." That night was a repetition of the first. Jackson sang till he was intoxicated, and then fell fast asleep, not talking or saying a word, and I was disappointed, for I remained awake to catch anything he might say. It would be tedious to repeat what took place for about a month;-- suffice it to say, it was very rarely, during that time, that Jackson said anything in his sleep, or drunken state, and what he did say, I could make nothing of. He continued in the `daytime' to give me lessons in singing, and I could now sing several songs very correctly. At night he returned to his usual habit, and was more or less intoxicated before the night was over. I perceived, however, that this excess had a great effect upon his constitution, and that he had become very pale and haggard. Impatient as I felt to find out the truth, I concealed my feelings towards him (which had certainly very much changed again since the discovery I had made and the suspicions I had formed), and I remained on the best of terms with him, resolving to wait patiently. He had spoken once, and therefore I argued that he would speak again; nor was I wrong in my calculations. One night, after he had finished his usual allowance of liquor, and had composed himself for sleep, I observed that he was unusually restless, changing his position in his bed-place every few minutes, and, at last, he muttered, "Captain James. Well, what of Captain James, eh?" A thought struck me that he might reply to a question. "How did he die?" said I, in a low clear voice. "Die?" replied Jackson, "he fell down the cliff. Yes, he did. You can't say I killed him. No--never put my finger on him." After that he was silent for some time, and then he recommenced. "She always said that I destroyed them both, but I did not--only one-- yes, one, I grant--but I hated him--no, not for his diamonds--no, no--if you said his wife indeed--love and hate." "Then you killed him for love of his wife, and hate of himself?" "Yes, I did. Who are you that have guessed that? Who are you? I'll have your life." As he said this, he started up in his bed-place, awakened by his dream, and probably by my voice, which he had replied to. "Who spoke?" said he. "Frank Henniker, did you speak?" I made no reply, but pretended to be sound asleep, as he still sat up, as if watching me. I feigned a snore. "It could not have been him," muttered Jackson, "he's quite fast. Mercy, what a dream!" He then sank down in his bed-place, and I heard the gurgling noise which told me that he had put the bottle of liquor to his mouth, and was drinking out of it. From the time that the gurgling lasted, he must have taken a great deal. At last, all was quiet again. "So I have discovered it at last," said I, as my blood boiled at what I had heard. "He did murder my father. Shall I kill him while he sleeps?" was the first thought that came into my troubled mind. "No, I won't do that. What then, shall I tax him with it when he is awake, and then kill him?" but I thought, that, as he was blind, and unable to defend himself, it would be cowardly, and I could not do that. What then was I to do? And as I cooled down, I thought of the words of the Bible, that we were to return good for evil; for Jackson, of whom, when I read it, I asked why we were told to do so, had explained it to me, and afterwards when I came to the part which said, "Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord," he had told me that there was punishment for the wicked hereafter, and that was the reason why we were not to obey the Jewish law of "an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth," which I had referred to. This portion of the Bible he had well explained, and certain it is that it prevented my raising my hand against him that night. Still, I remained in a state of great excitement; I felt that it would be impossible for me to be any longer on good terms with him, and I revolved the question in my mind, till, at last, worn out by excitement, I fell fast asleep. A short time before daylight, I started up at what I thought was a faint cry, but I listened, and hearing nothing more, I again fell asleep, and it was broad daylight when I arose; my first thoughts were naturally of Jackson, and I looked at where he lay, but he was no longer there--his bed-place was empty. I was astonished, and after a moment's thought, I recollected the cry I had heard in the night, and I ran out of the cabin and looked around me; but I could see nothing of him. I then went to the edge of the flat rock upon which the cabin was built and looked over it; it was about thirty feet from this rock to the one below, and nearly perpendicular. I thought that he must have gone out in the night, when intoxicated with liquor, and have fallen down the precipice; but I did not see him as I peered over. "He must have gone for water," thought I, and I ran to the corner of the rock, where the precipice was much deeper, and looking over, I perceived him lying down below without motion or apparent life. I had, then, judged rightly. I sat down by the side of the pool of water quite overpowered; last night I had been planning how I should destroy him, and now he lay dead before me without my being guilty of the crime. "Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord," were the words that first escaped my lips; and I remained many minutes in deep thought. At last it occurred to me that he might not yet be dead; I ran down the cliff, and, clambering over the rocks, arrived breathless at the spot where Jackson lay. He groaned heavily as I stood by him. "Jackson," said I, kneeling down by him, "are you much hurt?" for all my feelings of animosity had vanished when I perceived his unhappy condition. His lips moved, but he did not utter any sound. At last he said, in a low voice, "Water." I hastened back as fast as I could to the cabin, got a pannikin half full of water, and poured a little rum in it out of the bottle. This journey and my return to him occupied some ten minutes. I put it to his lips, and he seemed to revive. He was a dreadful object to look at. The blood from a cut on his head had poured over his face and beard, which were clotted with gore. How to remove him to the cabin I knew not. It would be hardly possible for me to carry him over the broken rocks which I had climbed to arrive at where he lay; and there was no other way but what was longer, and just as difficult. By degrees he appeared to recover; I gave him more of the contents of the pannikin, and at last he could speak, although with great pain and difficulty. As he did so he put his hand to his side. He was indeed a ghastly object, with his sightless eyeballs, his livid lips, and his face and beard matted with blood. "Do you think you could get to the cabin, if I helped you?" said I. "I shall never get there--let me die where I am," said he. "But the cut on your head is not very deep," replied I. "No, I don't feel it;--but--my side--I bleed inwardly--I am--broken to pieces," said he, pausing and gasping between each word. I looked at his side, and perceived that it was already black and much swollen. I offered him more drink, which he took eagerly, and I then returned for a further supply. I filled two of the wine-bottles with water and a small drop of spirits as before, and went back to where he lay. I found him more recovered, and I had hopes that he might still do well, and I told him so. "No, no," replied he; "I have but a few hours to live--I feel that. Let me die here, and die in peace." He then sank into a sort of stupor, occasioned, I presume, by what I had given him to drink, and remained quite quiet, and breathing heavily. I sat by him waiting till he should rouse up again; for more than an hour I was in a very confused state of mind, as may well be imagined, after what had passed in the night. CHAPTER TWELVE. What I most thought of was obtaining from him, now that he was dying, the full truth as to the deaths of my father and mother. Jackson remained so long in this state of stupor, I feared that he would die before I could interrogate him; but this, as it proved, was not to be the case. I waited another hour, very impatiently I must acknowledge, and then I went to him and asked him how he felt. He replied immediately, and without that difficulty which he appeared before to have experienced. "I am better now--the inward bleeding has stopped; but still I cannot live--my side is broken in, I do not think there is a rib that is not fractured into pieces, and my spine is injured, for I cannot move or feel my legs; but I may live many hours yet, and I thank God for his mercy in allowing me so much time--short indeed to make reparation for so bad a life; but still nothing is impossible with God." "Well, then," replied I, "if you can speak, I wish you would tell me the truth relative to my father's death, and also about the death of others--as for my father, I know that you murdered him--for you said so last night in your sleep." After a pause, Jackson replied--"I am glad that I did, and that you have told me so--I wished to make a full confession even to you; for confession is a proof of repentance. I know that you must hate me, and will hate my memory, and I cannot be surprised at it; but look at me now, Frank, and ask your own heart whether I am not more an object of pity than of hatred. `Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord!' and has not his vengeance fallen upon me even in this world? Look at me; here I am, separated from the world that I loved so much, with no chance of ever joining it--possessed of wealth which would but a few months ago have made me happy--now blind, crushed to pieces by an avenging God, in whose presence I must shortly appear to answer for all my wickedness--all my expectations overthrown, all my hopes destroyed, and all my accumulated sins procuring me nothing, but, it may be, eternal condemnation. I ask you again, am I not an object of pity and commiseration?" I could but assent to this, and he proceeded. "I will now tell you the truth. I did tell the truth up to the time of your father and mother's embarkation on board of the brig, up to when the gale of wind came on which occasioned eventually the loss of the ship. Now give me a little drink. "The vessel was so tossed by the storm, and the waves broke over her so continually, that the between-decks were full of water, and as the hatches were kept down, the heat was most oppressive. When it was not my watch, I remained below, and looked out for another berth to sleep in. Before the cabin bulkheads on the starboard side, the captain had fitted up a sort of sail-room to contain the spare sails in case we should require them. It was about eight feet square, and the sails were piled up in it, so as to reach within two feet of the deck overhead; though the lower ones were wetted with the water, above they were dry, and I took this berth on the top of the sails as my sleeping-place. Now the state-room in which your father and mother slept was on the other side of the cabin bulkhead, and the straining and rolling of the vessel had opened the chinks between the planks, so that I could see a great deal of what was done in the state-room, and could hear every word almost that was spoken by them. I was not aware of this when I selected this place as my berth, but I found it out on the first night, the light of the candle shining through the chinks into the darkness by which I was surrounded outside. Of course, it is when a man is alone with his wife that he talks on confidential subjects; that I knew well, and hoped by listening to be able to make some discovery;--what, I had no idea of; but, with the bad feelings which stimulated me, I determined not to lose an opportunity. It was not till about a week after I had selected this berth, that I made any discovery. I had had the watch from six to eight o'clock, and had gone to bed early. About nine o'clock your father came into the state-room. Your mother was already in bed. As your father undressed, your mother said, `Does not that belt worry you a great deal, my dear?' "`No,' replied your father, `I am used to it now; it did when I first put it on, but now I have had it on four days, I do not feel it. I shall keep it on as long as this weather lasts; there is no saying what may happen, and it will not do to be looking for the belt at a moment's warning.' "`Do you think then that we are in danger?' "`No, not particularly so, but the storm is very fierce, and the vessel is old and weak. We may have fine weather in a day or two, or we may not; at all events, when property of value is at stake, and that property not my own, I should feel myself very culpable, if I did not take every precaution.' "`Well--I wish we were safe home again, my dear, and that my father had his diamonds, but we are in the hands of God.' "`Yes, I must trust to Him,' replied your father. "This circumstance induced me to look through one of the chinks of the bulkhead, so that I could see your father, and I perceived that he was unbuckling a belt which was round his body, and which no doubt contained the diamonds referred to. It was of soft leather, and about eight inches wide, sewed lengthways and breadthways in small squares, in which, I presumed the diamonds were deposited. After a time your mother spoke again. "`I really think, Henniker, that I ought to wear the belt.' "`Why so, my dear?' "`Because it might be the means of my preservation in case of accident. Suppose, now, we were obliged to abandon the vessel and take to the boats; a husband, in his hurry, might forget his wife, but he would not forget his diamonds. If I wore the belt, you would be certain to put me in the boat.' "`That observation of yours would have force with some husbands, and some wives,' retorted your father; `but as I have a firm belief in the Scriptures, it does not affect me. What do the Proverbs say? "The price of a virtuous woman is far above rubies;" and a good ruby is worth even more in the market than a diamond of the same size.' "`Well, I must comfort myself with that idea,' replied your mother, laughing. "`Supposing we be thrown upon some out-of-the-way place,' said your father, `I shall then commit the belt to your charge. It might soon be discovered on my person, whereas, on yours, it would stand every chance of being long concealed. I say this because, even in a desert, it would be dangerous to have it known by unscrupulous and unprincipled men that any one had so much wealth about him.' "`Well,' replied your mother, `that is also comfortable for me to hear, for you will not leave me behind, because I shall be necessary to conceal your treasure.' "`Yes,' replied your father, laughing, `there is another chance for you, you see.' "Your father then extinguished the light, and the conversation was not renewed; but I had heard enough. Your father carried a great treasure about his person--wealth, I took it for granted, that if I once could obtain, and return to England, would save me from my present position. My avarice was hereby excited, and thus another passion equally powerful, and equally inciting to evil deeds, was added to the hate which I already had imbibed for your father. But I must leave off now." Jackson drank a little more, and then remained quiet, and as I had no food that day, I took the opportunity of returning to the cabin, with the promise that I would be back very soon. In half an hour I returned, bringing with me the Bible and Prayer-book, as I thought that he would ask me to read to him after he had made his confession. I found him breathing heavily, and apparently asleep, so I did not wake him. As I looked at him, and recalled to mind his words, "Am not I an object of pity?" I confessed that he was, and then I asked myself the question, Can you forgive him who was the murderer of your father? After some reflection, I thought that I could. Was he not already punished? Had not the murder been already avenged? It was not possible to retain animosity against one so stricken, so broken to pieces, and my heart smote me when I looked at his disabled hand, and felt that I, boy as I was, had had a share in his marring. At last, he spoke. "Are you there, Frank?" "Yes," replied I. "I have had a little sleep," said he. "Do you feel easier?" inquired I, kindly. "Yes, I feel my side more numbed, and so it will remain, till mortification takes place. But let me finish my confession, I wish to relieve my mind; not that I shall die to-night, or perhaps to-morrow, but still, I wish it over. Come nearer to me, that I may speak in a lower voice, and then I shall be able to speak longer." I did so, and he proceeded. "You know how we were cast upon this island, and how I behaved at first. When I afterwards took my place with the others, my evil thoughts gradually quitted me, and I gave, up all idea of any injury to your father. But this did not last long. The deaths of so many, and at last the captain, your father, and your mother being the only ones left on the island besides myself, once more excited my cupidity. I thought again of the belt of diamonds, and by what means I should gain possession of it; and the devil suggested to me the murders of the captain and of your father. I had ascertained that your father no longer carried the belt on his person when we all used to bathe at the bathing-pool; it was, therefore, as your father had proposed, in your mother's keeping. Having once made up my mind, I watched every opportunity to put my intentions into execution. It was the custom for one of us to fish every morning, as your mother would not eat the dried birds, if fish could be procured, and I considered that the only chance I had of executing my horrible wish was when your father went to fish off the rocks. We usually did so off the ledge of rocks which divide the bathing-pool from the sea, but I found out another place, where more fish, and of a better quality, were to be taken, which is off the high wall of rocks just below. You know where I mean, I have often sent you to fish there, but I never could go myself since your father's death. Your father took his lines there, and was hauling in a large fish, when I, who had concealed myself close to where he stood, watched the opportunity as he looked over the rock to see if the fish was clear of the water, to come behind him and throw him off into the sea. He could not swim, I knew, and after waiting a minute or two, I looked over and saw his body, just as it sank, after his last struggles. I then hastened away, and my guilty conscience induced me to ascend the ravine, and collect a faggot of firewood to bring home, that no suspicions might be entertained; but my so doing was the very cause of suspicion, as you will afterwards perceive. I returned with the wood, and the captain observed, when I came up to the cabin:-- "`Why, it's something new for you to collect wood out of your turn, Jackson. Wonders will never cease.' "`The fact is, that I am becoming very amiable,' replied I, hardly knowing what to say, and afraid to look either of them in the face, for your mother, with you on her lap, was standing close by. "`Has my husband caught any fish, do you know, Jackson?' said your mother, `for it is high time that he came home.' "`How can I tell?' replied I. `I have been up the ravine for wood.' "`But you were down on the rock two hours ago,' replied your mother, `for Captain James saw you coming away.' "`That I certainly did,' replied the captain. `Had he caught any fish when you were with him?' "They must have perceived my confusion when I said, `Yes, I was on the rocks, but I never went near Henniker, that I'll swear.' "`You must have been near him, even when I saw you,' replied the captain. "`I never looked at him, if I was,' replied I. "`Well then, one of us had better go down and see what he is about,' said the captain. `Shall I leave Jackson with you?' "`Yes, yes,' replied your mother, much agitated, `for I have my forebodings; better leave him here.' "The captain hastened down to the rocks, and in a quarter of an hour returned very much heated, saying, `He is not there!' "`Not there?' replied I, getting up, for I had seated myself in silence on the rock during the captain's absence: `that's very odd.' "`It is,' replied the captain. `Jackson, go and try if you see anything of him, while I attend to Mrs Henniker.' "Your mother, on the captain's return, had bowed her head down to her knees, and covered her face with her hands. I was glad of an excuse to be away, for my heart smote me as I witnessed her condition. "I remained away half an hour, and then returned, saying, that I could see nothing of your father. "Your mother was in the cabin, and the captain went in to her, while I remained outside with all the feelings of Cain upon my brow. "That was a dreadful day for all parties--no food was taken. Your mother and the captain remained in the cabin, and I dared not, as usual, go into my own bed-place. I lay all night upon the rocks--sleep I could not; every moment I saw your father's body sinking, as I had seen it in the morning. The next morning, the captain came out to me. He was very grave and stern, but he could not accuse me, whatever his suspicions might have been. It was a week before I saw your mother again, for I dared not intrude into her presence; but, finding there was no accusation against me, I recovered my spirits, and returned to the cabin, and things went on as before." CHAPTER THIRTEEN. "One thing, however, was evident, that your mother had an aversion--I may say a horror--of me, which she could not conceal. She said nothing, but she never could look at me; and to any question I put, would seldom make reply. Strange to say, this treatment of hers produced quite a different effect from what might have been anticipated, and I felt my former love for her revive. Her shrinking from me made me more familiar towards her, and increased her disgust. I assumed a jocose air with her, and at times Captain James considered it his duty to interfere and check me. He was a very powerful man, and in a contest would have proved my master; this I knew, and this knowledge compelled me to be more respectful to your mother in his presence, but when his back was turned I became so disgustingly familiar, that at last your mother requested that whether fishing or collecting wood, instead of going out by turns we should both go, and leave her alone. This I could not well refuse, as Captain James would in all probability have used force if I had not consented, but my hatred to him was in consequence most unbounded. However, an event took place which relieved me from the subjection which I was under, and left me alone with you and your mother. Now I must rest a little. Wait another hour, and you shall know the rest." It was now late in the evening, but there was a bright moon which shone overhead, and the broad light and shadow made the rocks around us appear peculiarly wild and rugged. They towered up one above the other till they met the dark blue of the sky, in which the stars twinkled but faintly, while the moon sailed through the ether, without a cloud to obscure her radiance. And in this majestic scenery were found but two living beings--a poor boy and a mangled wretch--a murderer--soon to breathe his last, and be summoned before an offended God. As I remained motionless by his side, I felt, as I looked up, a sensation of awe, but not of fear; I thought to myself--"And God made all this and all the world besides, and me and him. The Bible said so;" and my speculation then was as to what God must be, for although I had read the Bible, I had but a confused idea, and had it been asked me, as it was to the man in the chariot by Philip, "Understandest thou what thou readest?" I most certainly should have answered, No. I remained for nearly two hours in this reverie, and at last fell asleep with my back against the rock. I was, however, wakened up by Jackson's voice, when he asked in a low tone for water. "There it is," said I, handing it to him. "Have you called long?" "No," replied he, "I asked but once." "I have been asleep," said I. As soon as he had drunk, he said--"I will finish now; my side begins to burn." He then proceeded--"It was about four months after your father's death, that Captain James and I went together to the ravine to collect firewood. We passed under the wall of rock, which you know so well, and went through the gap, as we call it, when Captain James left the water-course and walked along the edge of the wall. I followed him: we both of us had our pieces of rope in our hands with which we tied the faggots. Of a sudden his foot slipped, and he rolled down to the edge of the rock, but catching hold of a small bush which had fixed its roots in the rocks, he saved himself when his body was hanging half over the precipice. "`Give me the end of your rope,' said he to me, perfectly collected, although in such danger. "`Yes,' replied I, and I intended so to do, as I perceived that, if I refused, he could still have saved himself by the bush to which he clung. "But the bush began to loosen and give way, and Captain James perceiving it cried out-- "`Quick, quick, the bush is giving way!' "This assertion of his determined me not to give him the rope. I pretended to be in a great hurry to do so, but entangled it about my legs, and then appeared occupied in clearing it, when he cried again-- "`Quick!'--and hardly had he said the word when the root of the bush snapped, and down he fell below. "I heard the crash as he came to the rock beneath. See the judgment of God--am I not now precisely in his position, lying battered and crushed as he was? After a time I went down to where he lay, and found him expiring. He had just strength to say `God forgive you,' and then he died. It was murder, for I could have saved him and would not, and yet he prayed to God to forgive me. How much happier should I have felt if he had not said that. His `God forgive you' rang in my ears for months afterwards. I returned to the cabin, and with a bold air stated to your mother what had happened, for I felt I could say, this time, I did not do the deed. She burst out into frantic exclamations, accusing me of being not only his murderer but the murderer of her husband. I tried all I could do to appease her, but in vain. For many weeks she was in a state of melancholy and despondency, that made me fear for her life; but she had you still to bestow her affections upon, and for your sake she lived. I soon made this discovery. She was now wholly in my power, but I was awed by her looks even, for a time. At last I became bolder, and spoke to her of our becoming man and wife; she turned from me with abhorrence. I then resorted to other means. I prevented her from obtaining food; she would have starved with pleasure, but she could not bear to see you suffer. I will not detail my cruelty and barbarity towards her; suffice to say it was such that she pined away, and about six months after the death of the captain she died, exhorting me not to injure you, but if ever I had an opportunity, to take you to your grandfather. I could not refuse this demand, made by a woman whom I as certainly killed by slow means as I had your father by a more sudden death. I buried her in the guano, by the side of the others. After her death my life was a torture to me for a long while. I dared not kill you, but I hated you. I had only one consolation, one hope, which occasionally gave me satisfaction; the consolation, if so it could be called, was, that I had possession of the diamonds; the hope--that I should one day see England again. You see me now--are they not all avenged?" I could not but feel the truth of Jackson's last sentence. They were indeed avenged. After a short pause, he said to me-- "Now, Frank, I feel that the mortification in my side is making great progress, and, in a short time, I shall be in too great pain to talk to you. I have made a full confession of my crimes; it is all the reparation I can make to you. Now, can you forgive me? For I shall die very miserable if you do not. Just look at me. Can you feel resentment against one in my wretched state? Recollect that you pray to be forgiven as you forgive others. Give me your answer." "I think--yes, I feel that I can forgive you, Jackson," replied I. "I shall soon be left alone on this island, and I am sure I should be much more miserable than I shall be, if I do not forgive you. I do forgive you." "Thanks; you are a good boy, and may God bless you. Is it not nearly daylight?" "Yes, it is. I shall soon be able to read the Bible or Prayer-book to you. I have them both here." "The pain is too severe, and becomes worse every minute. I shall not be able to listen to you now; but I shall have some moments of quiet before I die; and then--" Jackson groaned heavily, and ceased speaking. For many hours he appeared to suffer much agony, which he vented in low groans; the perspiration hung on his forehead in large beads, and his breathing became laborious. The sun rose and had nearly set again before Jackson spoke; at last he asked for some drink. "It is over now," said he, faintly. "The pain is subsiding, and death is near at hand. You may read to me now; but, first, while I think of it, let me tell you where you will find your father's property." "I know," replied I; "in your bed-place under the board. I saw you remove it when you did not see me." "True. I have no more to say; it will all be over soon. Read the burial service over me after I am dead; and now, while still above, read me what you think I shall like best; for I cannot collect myself sufficiently to tell you what is most proper. Indeed I hardly know. But I can pray at times. Read on." I did so, and came upon the parable of the prodigal son. "That suits me," said Jackson. "Now let me pray. Pray for me, Frank." "I don't know how," replied I; "you never taught me." "Alas, no!" Jackson was then silent. I saw his pale lips move for some time. I turned away for a few moments; when I came back to him, he was no more! His jaw had fallen; and this being the first time that I had ever faced death, I looked upon the corpse with horror and dismay. After a few minutes I left the body, and sat down on a rock at some distance from it, for I was somewhat afraid to be near to it. On this rock I remained till the sun was sinking below the horizon; when, alarmed at the idea of being there when it was dark, I took up my books and hastened back to the cabin. I was giddy from excitement, and not having tasted food for many hours. As soon as I had eaten, I lay down in my bed-place, intending to reflect upon what I was to do, now that I was alone; but I was in a few moments fast asleep, and did not wake until the sun was high. I arose much refreshed, and, seeing my Bible and Prayer-book close to my bed-place, I recollected my promise to Jackson that I would read the burial service over his body. I found the place in the Prayer-book, for I had read it more than once before; and, having just looked over it, I went with my book to where the body lay. It presented a yet more hideous spectacle than it had the night before. I read the service and closed the book. "What can I do?" thought I. "I cannot bury him in the guano. It will be impossible to carry the body over these rocks." Indeed, if it had been possible, I do not think I could have touched it. I was afraid of it. At last I determined that I would cover it up with the fragments of rocks which lay about in all directions, and I did so. This occupied me about two hours, and then, carrying the bottles with me, I gladly hastened away from the spot, with a resolution never to revisit it. I felt quite a relief when I was once more in the cabin. I was alone, it was true, but I was no longer in contact with the dead. I could not collect my thoughts or analyse my feelings during the remainder of the day. I sat with my head resting on my hand, in the attitude of one thinking; but at the same time my mind was vacant. I once more lay down to sleep, and the following morning I found myself invigorated, and capable of acting as well as thinking. I had a weight upon my spirits which I could not at first account for; but it arose from the feeling that I was now alone, without a soul to speak to or communicate with; my lips must now be closed till I again fell in with some of my fellow-creatures--and was that likely? We had seen some of them perish not far from us, and that was all, during a period of many years. CHAPTER FOURTEEN. I was now, by Jackson's account, nearly fourteen years old. During fourteen years but one vessel had been seen by us. It might be fourteen more, or double that time might elapse, before I should again fall in with any of my fellow-creatures. As these thoughts saddened me, I felt how much I would have sacrificed if Jackson had remained alive, were it only for his company; I would have forgiven him anything. I even then felt as if, in the murderer of my father, I had lost a friend. That day I was so unsettled I could not do anything; I tried to read, but I could not; I tried to eat, but my appetite was gone. I sat looking at the ocean as it rolled wave after wave, sometimes wondering whether it would ever bring a fellow-creature to join me; at others I sat, and for hours, in perfect vacuity of thought. The evening closed in, it was dark, and I still remained seated where I was. At last I returned to my bed, almost broken-hearted; but fortunately I was soon asleep, and my sorrows were forgotten. Another morning was gladdened with a brilliant sun, the dark blue ocean was scarcely ruffled by the breeze that swept over it, and I felt my spirits much revived, and my appetite returned. After taking a meal, I remembered what Jackson had told me about the belt with the diamonds, and I went up to his bed-place, and turning out the birds' skins and feathers, I raked up the gravel, which was not more than two inches deep, and came to the board. I lifted it up, and found underneath a hole, about a foot deep, full of various articles. There were the watch and sleeve-buttons of the mate, some dollars wrapped in old rags, a tobacco-box, an old pipe, a brooch with hair forming initials, some letters which were signed J. Evelyn, and which I perceived were from my grandfather, and probably taken by Jackson after my mother's death. I say letters, because they were such, as I afterwards found out, but I had not then ever seen a letter, and my first attempt to decipher written hand was useless, although I did manage to make out the signature. There was in the tobacco-box a plain gold wedding-ring, probably my mother's; and there was also a lock of long dark hair, which I presumed was hers also. There were three or four specimens of what I afterwards found out to be gold and silver ores, a silver pencil-case, and a pair of small gold ear-rings. At the bottom of the hole was the belt; it was of soft leather, and I could feel a hard substance in it sewed in every square, which of course I presumed were the diamonds, but I did not cut one of the divisions open to see what was in them. It had on the upper part of it, in very plain writing, "The property of Mr J. Evelyn, 33, Minories, London." I examined all these articles one after another, and having satisfied my curiosity, I replaced them in the hole for a future survey. I covered the hole with the board, and put back the gravel and the feathers into the bed-place. This occupied me about two hours, and then I again took my former position on the rocks, and remained in a state of listless inactivity of body and mind the remainder of that day. This state of prostration lasted for many days--I may say for weeks, before it was altogether removed. I could find no pleasure in my books, which were taken up, and after a few moments laid aside. It was now within a month of the time that the birds should come to the island. I was in no want of them for sustenance; there were plenty left, but I almost loathed the sight of food. The reader may inquire how it was that I knew the exact time of the arrival of the birds? I reply that the only reckoning ever kept by Jackson and me was the arrival of the full moons, and we also made a mark on the rock every time that the moon was at the full. Thirteen moons were the quantity which we reckoned from the time of the birds appearing on the island one year, until their re-appearance the next; and twelve moons had now passed. At length, tired with everything, tired of myself; and I may say, almost tired of life, I one day took it into my head that I would take some provisions with me and a bottle to hold water, and go up the ravine, and cut firewood which should last me a long while; and that I would remain up there for several days, for I hated the sight of the cabin and of all that was near to it. The next day I acted upon this resolution, and slinging my dry provisions on my shoulder, I set off for the ravine. In an hour I had gained it; but not being in a hurry to cut wood, I resolved upon climbing higher up, to see if I could reach the opposite side of the island; that is, at least, get over the brow of the hill, to have a good view of it. I continued to climb until I had gained a smooth grassy spot, which was clear of brushwood; and as I sat down to rest myself, I observed some blue flowers which I had never seen before; indeed I did not know that there was a flower on the island. As I afterwards discovered, they were one of the varieties of Gentianellas. I looked at them, admired them, and felt quite an affection for them; they were very pretty, and they were, as well as myself, alone. Jackson, when I was pointing out the English cottages in the landscapes of Mayor's Natural History, had told me a great deal about gardening in England, and how wild flowers and trees were transplanted and improved by culture; how roses and other plants were nailed up the walls as I had observed in the engraving, and how they were watered and kept; and as I sat down looking at the flower, the thought occurred to me, Why should I not take it with me, and keep it for myself? I can water it and take care of it. I resolved that I would do so, for I already looked upon the plant as a treasure. I took it up carefully with my American knife, leaving sufficient mould about the roots, and then I proceeded to ascend the hill; but before I had gone another hundred yards, I found at least a dozen more of these plants in flower, all finer than the one I had dug up, and three or four others very different from these, which were also quite new to me. I was puzzled what to do; I put down the plants I had dug up and continued my ascent, not having made up my mind. After half an hour's climbing, I gained the summit, and could perceive the ocean on the other side, and the other half of the island lying beneath me. It was very grand from the height I stood on, but I observed little difference between one side of the island and the other; all was rugged barren rock as on my side, with the exception of the portion close to me; this had brushwood in the ravine, which appeared to be a sort of cleft through the island. All was silent and solitary; not a bird was to be seen, and nothing that had life could I discover. I was about to return, when I thought I might as well go down the ravine facing me for a little way, and see what there was in it. I did so, and discovered some other plants that I had not seen on my side of the island. There were also some fern trees, and some twining plants running up them, and I thought to myself, Why, these plants are what I saw in the picture of the English cottages, or very like them. I wonder if they would run up my cabin? And then all at once the idea came to me that I would plant some of them round the cabin, and that I would make a garden of flowers, and have plants of my own. The reader can hardly imagine the pleasure that this idea gave me; I sat down to ruminate upon it, and felt quite happy for the time. I now recollected, however, that the cabin was built on the rock, and that plants would only grow in the earth. At first this idea chilled me, as it seemed to destroy all my schemes, but I resolved that I would bring some earth to the rock, and make my garden in that way. I at first thought of the guano, but Jackson had told me that it was only used in small proportions to enrich the soil, and would kill plants if used by itself. After an hour's consideration, during which I called to mind all that Jackson had told me on the subject, I made up my mind I would return to the cabin, and on my return ascertain how low down the ravine I could obtain earth for my garden; I would then carry the earth to the cabin, make a soil ready for the plants and flowers, and then, when all was ready, I would go up the ravine, collect what I could, and make my garden. I did so. I found that I could get soil about one-third of the way up the ravine, a quarter of a mile below where the brushwood grew; and having ascertained that, I returned to the cabin, threw down my provisions which were to have lasted me a week, and as it was late, I decided that I would not commence operations until the following day. I took out of the chest a duck frock, and tying up the sleeves and collar, so as to form a bag of the body of the frock, I set off the next morning to begin my task. That day I contrived to carry to the cabin ten or twelve bags of mould, which I put round it in a border about four feet wide and about a foot deep. It occupied me a whole week to obtain the quantity of earth necessary to make the bed on each side of the cabin; it was hard work, but it made me cheerful and happy to what I had been before. I found that the best cure for melancholy and solitude was employment, so I thus obtained valuable knowledge as well as the making of my garden. When I had finished carrying the mould, I started off for the ravine with two bags to hold the plants which I might collect, and after a day's toil, I returned with my bags full of small shrubs, besides a bundle of creepers to plant against the sides of the cabin. The following day was occupied in planting everything I had procured. I was sorry to see that the leaves and flowers hung down, but I watered them all before I went to bed. The next morning I was delighted to perceive that they had all recovered and were looking quite fresh. But my garden was not full enough to please me, and I once more went up the ravine, selecting other plants which had no flowers on them, and one or two other shrubs, which I had not before observed. When these were planted and watered, my garden looked very gay and full of plants, and then I discovered the mould came down for want of support at the edges; I therefore went and picked up pieces of rock of sufficient size to make a border and hold up the mould, and now all was complete, and I had nothing to do but to go on watering them daily. This I did, and recollecting what Jackson had said about the guano, I got a bag of it, and put some to each plant. The good effect of this was soon observable, and before the birds came, my garden was in a very flourishing condition. I cannot express to the reader the pleasure I derived from this little garden. I knew every plant and every shrub, talked to them as if they were companions, while I watered and tended them, which I did every night and morning, and their rapid growth was my delight. I no longer felt my solitude so irksome as I had done. I had something to look after, to interest me, and to love; they were alive as well as I was; they grew, and threw out leaves and flowers; they were grateful for the care I bestowed upon them, and became my companions and friends. I before mentioned that during the latter portion of the time I was with Jackson, he had taught me to sing several songs. Feeling tired, in my solitude, of not hearing the human voice, I found myself at first humming over, and afterwards singing aloud, the various airs I had collected from him. This afforded me much pleasure, and I used to sing half the day. I had no one to listen to me, it is true; but as my fondness for my garden increased, I used to sit down and sing to the flowers and shrubs, and fancy that they listened to me. But my stock of songs was not very large, and at last I had repeated them so often that I became tired of the words. It occurred to me that the Prayer-book had the Psalms of David at the end of it, set to music. I got the book, and as far as the airs that I knew would suit, I sang them all; never were Psalms, probably, sung to such tunes before, but it amused me, and there was no want of variety of language. Every three or four days I would go up the ravine, and search carefully for any new flower or shrub which I had not yet planted in my garden, and when I found one, as I often did, it was a source of great delight. CHAPTER FIFTEEN. At last the birds came, and I procured some of their eggs, which were a very agreeable change, after living so long upon dried meat. My want of occupation occasioned me also to employ some of my time in fishing, which I seldom had done while Jackson was alive; and this created a variety in my food, to which, for a long while, I had been a stranger. Jackson did not care for fish, as to cook it we were obliged to go up the ravine for wood, and he did not like the trouble. When the birds came, I had recourse to my book on Natural History, to read over again the accounts of the Man-of-War birds, Gannets, and other birds mentioned in it; and there was a vignette of a Chinaman with tame cormorants on a pole, and in the letter-press an account of how they were trained and employed to catch fish for their masters. This gave me the idea that I would have some birds tame, as companions, and, if possible, teach them to catch fish for me; but I knew that I must wait till the young birds were fit to be taken from the nest. I now resolved that during the time the birds were mating, I would go to the ravine and remain there several days, to collect bundles of firewood. The firewood was chiefly cut from a sort of low bush, like the sallow or willow, fit for making baskets, indeed fit for anything better than firewood; however, there were some bushes which were of a harder texture, and which burnt well. It was Jackson who told me that the former were called Willow and used for making baskets, and he also showed me how to tie the faggots up by twisting the sallows together. They were not, however, what Jackson said they were--from after knowledge, I should say that they were a species of Oleander, or something of the kind. Having roasted several dozen of eggs quite hard, by way of provision, I set off one morning, and went to the ravine. As Jackson had said before, you had to walk under a wall of rock thirty feet high, and then pass through a water-course to get up to the ravine, which increased the distance to where the shrubs grew, at least half a mile. It was over this wall that the captain fell and was killed, because Jackson would not assist him. I gained the thicket where the bushes grew, and for three days I worked very hard, and had cut down and tied about fifty large faggots, when I thought that I had collected enough to last me for a long while; but I had still to carry them down, and this was a heavy task, as I could not carry more than one at a time. It occurred to me that if I threw my faggots over the wall opposite to where they had been cut down, I should save myself nearly a mile of carriage, as otherwise I had to walk all the way to the water-course which divided the wall of rock, and then walk back again. Indeed, where I cut down the wood was not more than a quarter of a mile from the bathing-pool, and all down hill. I was delighted at this idea, which I wondered had never occurred to Jackson, and I commenced putting it into execution. The top of the wall of rock was slippery from the constant trickling of the water over the surface, but this was only in some places. I carried my faggots down one by one, and threw them over, being careful not to lose my footing in so doing. I had carried all but three or four, and had become careless, when, on heaving one over, my heels were thrown up, and before I could recover myself I slid down the remainder of the ledge and was precipitated down below, a distance of more than thirty feet. I must have remained there many hours insensible, but at last I recovered and found myself lying on the faggots which I had thrown down. It was my falling on the faggots, instead of the hard rock, which had saved my life. I rose as soon as I could collect my scattered senses. I felt very sore and very much shaken, and the blood was running out of my mouth, but there were no bones broken. I was, however, too ill to attempt anything more that day. I walked home at a very slow pace and went to bed. A sound sleep restored me, and in a day or two I was quite recovered. I watered my plants, which I found drooping, as if they had grieved at my being so long away from them, and then I returned to where my faggots had been left; and to lighten my labour I resolved to carry them down to the bathing-pool and stack them up there on the rocks near to it. I mention this for reasons that the reader will comprehend by-and-bye. This occupied me two days, for I was not inclined, after my fall, to work hard; and very glad was I when the labour was over. The young birds were now hatched, but I had to wait four or five weeks before they were fit to be taken. I began again to find solitude tedious. The flowers in my garden had all bloomed and withered, and there was not so much to interest me. I recommenced reading the Bible, and the narratives in the Old and New Testaments again afforded me pleasure. I hardly need say to the reader that I read the Bible as I would have read any other book--for amusement, and not for instruction. I had learnt little from Jackson--indeed, as regards the true nature of the Christian religion, I may say, nothing at all. I do not believe that he knew anything about it himself. It is true that the precepts in the New Testament struck me, and that I was more interested about Our Saviour than anybody else; but I could not comprehend him, or his mission. In short, I read in darkness; and I may say that I almost knew the Bible by heart without understanding it.--How could I? How many thousands are there who do the same, without having an excuse to offer for their blindness! At last the time for taking the birds arrived, and I had then sufficient employment to keep me from being melancholy. I collected quite as many as we had done when Jackson and I had to be provided for; and with my new knives my labour was comparatively easy. As soon as I had completed my provision, I went back to take the young birds which already I had selected and left for that purpose. It was high time, for I found that when I went to take them they were ready to fly. However, after a good battle with the old birds (for I had taken six young ones--two from each nest, which arrayed a force of six old ones against me, who fought very valiantly in defence of their offspring), I succeeded in carrying them off, but followed by the old birds, who now screamed and darted close to me as they came pursuing me to the cabin. As soon as I got safe back, I took the young birds into the cabin, tying each of them by the leg with a piece of fishing-line, and the other end of the line I fastened to some pieces of rock which I had collected ready on the platform outside of the cabin. The old birds continued to persecute me till it was dark, and then they went away, and I, tired with my day's labour, was not sorry to go to sleep. When I woke up the next morning, I found the old birds on the platform, in company with the young ones, I presume trying to persuade them to fly away with them; but the lines on their legs prevented that. They did not leave at my approach for some little while; at last they all took wing, and went off to sea; but in the course of a few minutes they returned with some small fish in their mouths, with which they fed their young ones. They continued to do this for the two following days, when there was a general break up, announcing the departure of the main body, which, after much soaring and wheeling in the air, flew off in a northerly direction. The six parent birds, who were with their young ones at the cabin, appeared for some time very uneasy, flying round and round and screaming wildly; at last they soared in the air with loud shrieks, and flew away after the main body, which was still in sight-- their love for their young overpowered by their instinctive habits. I was not sorry when they were gone, as I wanted to have my new family all to myself. I went down to the rocks and caught a fish, which was large enough to supply them for three or four days. I fed them with the inside of the fish, and they ate it very heartily. For several days they appeared very uneasy; but gradually they settled, and not only appeared to know me, but to welcome my coming, which was to me a source of great pleasure. I now neglected my flowers for the birds, which were the more animated of the two; and I sat down for hours on the platform with my six companions, who I must own were not over-lively and intelligent, but they were alive, and had eyes. They seldom roused up, unless I brought them fish, of which they had a supply four times a day, and then they would stand on their legs and open their beaks far apart, each waiting for its share. They were a great happiness to me, and I watched their gradual increase of plumage and of size, which was very rapid. I gave them all names out of my natural history book. One was Lion, then Tiger, Panther, Bear, Horse, and Jackass (at the time that I named them, the last would have been very appropriate to them all); and as I always called them by their names as I fed them, I soon found, to my great joy, that they knew them well enough. This delighted me. I read my books to them by way of amusement; I sang my songs to them; I talked to them; I would even narrate the various histories out of the Bible to them, such as that of Joseph and his brethren, etcetera; and the stolid air with which the communications were received made me almost imagine they were listened to. After a time, I took the line off the legs of two of them, with the precaution of first cutting their wings, and these two became much more lively, following me into the cabin, and generally staying there during the night. As I found that no attempt was made to escape, I let them all loose, after having cut their wings, and they all behaved equally well with the two first to which I had given their liberty. The perfect obedience and good behaviour of my new companions again gave me leisure that was not altogether desirable, as it left a vacuum to fill up. But I returned to my garden. I could do no more at present but water my plants and look at the increased daily growth of the climbers, as they now boldly ascended the sides of the cabin; but I thought it was high time to go up into the ravine and about the island, to see if I could not add to my collection. One morning I set off up the ravine. I was not successful, so I contented myself with carrying, by the long road, those faggots which I had left behind me on the day when I fell over the precipice. This labour I finished, and then returned to the cabin, where I was met by my birds with half-extended wings and open mouths, as if they were very glad to see me, and very hungry into the bargain. I ought to observe that my birds appeared now to separate into pairs, male and female, as their difference of plumage denoted. Lion and Horse were always side by side, as were Jackass and Bear, and Tiger and Panther. I now fed them one by one, calling them by name, to which they immediately responded, and if any one came who was not called, it was switched for its trouble. The next morning I set off on another voyage of discovery after plants, and this time I resolved upon trying what I could find among the crevices of the rocks, for I had seen at a distance what appeared to me to be a very pretty flower on the ledge of one of the clefts. I did not go up the ravine this time, but commenced climbing the rocks behind where the cabin was built. It was hard work, but I was not easily discouraged, and after a couple of hours, I arrived at a level which I had in view when I commenced my labour, and here I was amply rewarded; for I found several plants quite new to me, and a variety of ferns, which I thought very beautiful, although they had no flowers. The scene, from where I stood, was awful and beautiful. I looked down upon the rocks below, and the cabin, which appeared very small, and I thought that I could see my birds like dots upon the platform. It was a bright day and smooth water, and I could clearly distinguish the other islands in the distance, and I thought that I saw something like a white speck close to them--perhaps it was a vessel. This made me melancholy, and I could not help asking myself whether I was to remain all my life upon the island, alone, or if there were any chance of my ever being taken off it. As I looked down upon the cabin, I was surprised at the steepness of the rocks which I had climbed, and felt alarmed, as if I never should be able to get back again. But these thoughts were soon chased away. I turned from the seaward, and looked inland. I found that on one side of me there was a chasm between the rocks, the bottom of which was so far down that I could not see it; and on the other side the rock rose up as straight as a wall. My attention was soon diverted by discovering another plant, and I now commenced my task of digging them all up. I obtained, with the ferns, about twenty new varieties, which I made up in a bundle ready for carrying down slung round my neck; for I knew that I should require both hands to descend with. Then I sat down to rest myself a little before I commenced my return, and after I had been seated a few minutes, I thought I would sing a song by way of amusement. CHAPTER SIXTEEN. I have before said that, tired of repeating the words of the songs which Jackson had taught me, I had taken those of Psalms in metre, at the end of the Prayer-book, by way of variety; and, as far as metre went, they answered very well, although people would have been surprised to have heard Psalms sung to such quick and varied measure. The Psalm I chose this time was the first--"How blest is he who ne'er consents;" and I began accordingly; but when I came to the end of the line, to my astonishment I heard a plaintive voice, at a distance, repeat after me "con-sents." I looked round. I thought I must have been deceived, so I continued--"By ill advice to walk." This time I could not be mistaken--"to walk," was repeated by the same voice as plainly as possible. I stopped singing, lost in wonder. "There must be somebody on the island as well as myself," thought I; for I never had heard an echo before, except when it thundered, and such echoes I had put down as a portion of the thunder. "Who's there?" cried I. "Who's there?" replied the voice. "It's me!" "It's me!" was the answer. I did not know what to make of it. I cried out again and again, and again and again I heard what I said repeated, but no answer to my questions. I thought I was insulted by somebody, and yet, when I listened, the voice that spoke came from the face of the rock on the other side of the chasm, and no one could be there without my seeing them. This made me think that I was mistaken, and that there could not be anybody, but still I could not solve the mystery. At last I became frightened, and as the sun was now setting, I determined to get back to the cabin. I did so, and went down much faster than I had gone up, for as it grew dark I became the more alarmed. The only thing that reassured me was the softness and plaintiveness of the voice--not like Jackson's, but as of some one who would not think of injuring me. Although I was, generally speaking, quiet and content with my isolated position, yet it was only when I was employed or amused with my favourites. At times, I could not find anything to do, and was overcome by weariness. I would then throw away my books, and remain for hours thinking upon the probability of my ever again seeing a fellow-creature; and a fit of melancholy would come over me, which would last many days. I was in one of these moods, when it occurred to me, that although I had seen the other side of the island from the summit, I had not gone down to the beach to explore it; and I resolved that I would do so, making a trip of three or four days. When my knives had become blunt, Jackson had told me how to sharpen them by rubbing the blades upon a hard flat piece of rock wetted with water. This I had found to answer very well, and I now determined I would try and sharpen one of the old axes in the same way, so as to make it serviceable, for I was very much afraid of breaking my knives in cutting down the brushwood, and I knew how much more rapidly it could be done with an axe. I picked out a large stone, suitable for the purpose, and with a kid of water at hand, I set-to to sharpen the axe. It was a long job, but in a day or two I had succeeded admirably, and the axe was in good order. I then thought how I could leave my birds for so many days, as they would require food. At last I considered that if I caught two large fish and cut them up, they would be sufficient for their sustenance. I did so, and, provided with a packet of dried birds for food, tied up in a duck frock, with my Natural History book for amusement, a pannikin to get water in, my axe on my shoulder, and my knives by my side--I first kissed all the birds, and told them to remain quiet and good till I came back--I set off on a bright clear morning on my tour of examination. In a couple of hours I had gained the summit of the island, and prepared for my descent, by sitting down and eating my dinner. I observed that, as before, the water on the other side of the island was quite smooth, compared to what it was on the side where I resided. It was, in fact, from the prevailing winds during the year, the lee side of the island. Having rested myself sufficiently, I commenced my descent, which I accomplished in little less time than it took me to ascend from the other side. As I neared the rocks by the shore, I thought I perceived something occasionally moving about on them. I was not mistaken, for as I came closer, I found that there were several large animals lying on the rocks, and occasionally dropping into the sea close to them. The sight of anything living was to me of great interest. I determined to get nearer, and ascertain what animals they were. At last, by creeping along from rock to rock, I arrived to within forty yards of them. I recollected some animals of the same shape in my book of Natural History, which, fortunately, I had with me in the duck frock, and sitting down behind the rock, I pulled it out, and turned over the pages until I came to a print which exactly answered to their appearance. It was the Seal. Having satisfied myself on that point, I read the history of the animal, and found that it was easily tamed, and very affectionate when taken young, and also might be easily killed by a blow on the nose. These, at least, were for me the two most important pieces of information. It occurred to me that it would be very pleasant to have a young seal for a playmate (for the gannets, after all, were not very intelligent), and I resolved to obtain one if I could. I put down my duck frock with my provisions behind the rock, and taking my axe in my hand, I cautiously advanced to where the animals lay. There were about twenty of them all together on one rock, but they were all large, and seemed to be about five or six feet long. I could not see a small one anywhere, so I walked in behind the rocks further to the right, towards another rock, where I saw another batch of them lying. As I neared them, I saw by herself, a seal with a young one by her side, not more than two feet long. This was what I wanted. They lay at some distance from the water, upon a low rock. I watched them for some time, and was much amused at the prattling which passed between the old and the young one. I thought that to obtain the young one, I must of course kill the old one, for I perceived that it had large teeth. I considered it advisable to get between them and the water, that they might not escape me, and I contrived so to do, before I made my appearance. As soon as the old one perceived me running to them, it gave a shrill cry, and then floundered towards the water; as we came close together, it showed its teeth, and rose upon its flappers to defend itself and its young one, which kept close to its side; but a blow on its nose with the axe rendered it motionless, and apparently dead. Delighted with my success, I seized hold of the young one and took it in my arms, and was carrying it away, when I found myself confronted with the male seal, which, alarmed by the cry of the female, had come to her assistance. It was much larger than the female, with more shaggy hair about the neck and shoulders, and apparently very fierce. I could not pass it, as it was in-shore of me, and I had just time to drop the young seal, and leap behind a rock on one side, with my axe all ready. The animal reared itself on the rock to pass over to me, when I saluted it with a blow on the head, which staggered it. I had lost my presence of mind by the creature coming upon me so unexpectedly, and my blow was not well aimed; but before it could recover the first blow, another on its nose tumbled it over, to all appearance lifeless. I then hastened to gain the other side of the rock, where I had left the young seal, and found that it had crept to its mother's body, and was fondling it. I took it in my arms, and retreated to where I had left my duck frock, and throwing everything else out, I put the animal in, and tied up the end, so that it could not escape. I then sat down to recover myself from the excitement occasioned by this first engagement I had ever been in, quite delighted with my newly-acquired treasure. I then thought what I should do. It was now within an hour of dark, and was too late to return to the other side of the island, or I would have done so, as I was anxious to get my seal home. At last I decided that I would go farther from the beach, and take up my quarters for the night. I collected my provision, and with my seal under my arm, I walked away about one hundred yards from the water's edge, and took up a position under a large rock; here I ate my supper, and then untied the line which closed up the frock, and had a parting look at my little friend before I went to sleep. He had struggled a good deal at first, but was now quiet, although he occasionally made attempts to bite me. I coaxed him and fondled him a good deal, and then put him into his bag again, and made him secure, which appeared to annoy him very much, as he was not half as quiet in a bag as he was when I held him in my lap. I then took my book to read over again the history of the seal, and I found that their skins were valuable, and also that they gave a great deal of oil; but I had no use for oil, though I thought that their skins might be very comfortable in my bed-place. I shut my book and lay down to sleep, but I could not obtain any till near daylight, I had been so excited, and was so anxious about my treasure. The sun shining in my eyes woke me up; I found my seal was lying very quiet, I touched him to see that he was not dead; and the cry that he gave assured me to the contrary. I then walked back to where I had left the bodies of the parents. I found on examination that they were both dead, and also that their furs were very beautiful, and I resolved that I would have their skins. But here was a difficulty. If I took off the skins, I could not carry them with me, and I was anxious to get the young one home, lest it should die of hunger; so I decided that I would first take home the young one, give it food and warm it, and then return and skin the old ones. I therefore made my breakfast, and leaving the remainder of my provision in a cleft in the rock, that I might not have the trouble of bringing it again, I set off on my return, and used such diligence that I was back at the cabin by noon. I found my birds all well, and apparently quite satisfied with the provision that I had left them, for they were most of them asleep, and those that were awake did not notice my arrival. "Ah," thought I, "you only like me for what I give you; next time I go away I will leave you hungry, and then, when you see me come back, you will all flutter your wings with gladness." I was puzzled where to put my seal so as to keep him safe: at last I decided upon opening the seaman's chest and putting him in that. I did so, and gave him a piece of fish which the birds had not eaten. The little creature devoured it eagerly, and I took my lines and went down to catch some fish for a further supply. In half an hour I returned with two large fish, and I then took the seal out of the chest and fed him again. He ate very heartily; and I was glad to perceive that he appeared much tamer already. I threw some of the insides of the fish to the birds, who were now become of very inferior interest to me. Having fed my animals, I then thought of myself, and, as I took my meal, I arranged that the next morning I would go over to the other side of the island, skin the two seals, and spread out the skins on the rocks to dry, and would leave them there till I had a better opportunity of bringing them to the cabin; at present I could not be away from my new acquaintance, which I wished to make tame and fond of me. Having fed him again in the morning, I put down the lid of the chest, and then started for the lee side of the island. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. I arrived early, skinned both the seals, and dragged the skins up from the water side, though with difficulty, especially that of the large one, to the rock where I had taken up my quarters the night before. Here I spread them out to dry, putting large pieces of rock upon the edges, that they might not be blown away. It was nearly dusk when I had finished, but I set off, and an hour after dark arrived at the cabin; for now that I knew my way so well, I got over the ground twice as fast as I did before. I crawled into my bed-place in the dark, and slept soundly after my fatigue. I awoke the next morning with the plaintive cry of my seal in the chest, and I hastened to get some fish to feed him with. I took him out and fed him; and was astonished how tame the little animal had become already. He remained very quietly with me after he had been fed, nestling close to my side, as if I had been his mother, and even making a half attempt to follow me when I left him. My birds appeared very dull and stupid, and I observed also that they were very dirty, and always rushed to the kid when it was full of water, trying to get into it. This made me think that they required bathing in salt-water, and I took one down to the bathing-pool, with a long line to its leg, and put it in. The manner in which the poor creature floundered, and dipped and washed itself, for several minutes, proved my supposition correct; so, after allowing it half an hour for its recreation, I took it back, and went down with the others until they had all indulged in the luxury of a bath; and from that time, as I took them down almost every day, it was astonishing how much brighter and sleeker their plumage became. I remained a week in the cabin, taming my seal, who now was quite fond of me; and one night, as I was going to bed, he crawled into my bed-place, and from that time he was my bedfellow. At the end of a week I went over to the other side of the island, and contrived to carry up the two skins to the summit. It was a hard day's work. The day afterwards I conveyed them to the cabin, and, as they were quite dry, I put them into my bed-place to lie down upon, as I did not like the smell of the bird's feathers, although I had so long been accustomed to them. And now, what with my seal, my birds, and my garden, and the occupation they gave me, the time passed quickly away, until, by my reckoning, it was nearly the period for the birds to come again. I observed, as the time drew near, that my birds were uneasy. They had paired, as I mentioned before, and when their plumage was complete, it was evident that they had paired male and female, as I had supposed. They had not been tethered for a long while, and appeared to me now very much inclined to fly, especially the male birds. At first I thought that I would cut all their wings, as I was fearful that they would join the other birds on their arrival, but observing that they were so fond of their mates, I resolved to cut the wing of the females only, as I did not think that the male birds would leave them. I did so, and took my chance; for, since I had the seal for a companion, I did not care so much for the birds as before. At last the birds came, and took possession of the guano-ground as usual, and I went for fresh eggs; at the same time I found that my females were scratching, as if they would make their nests, and a few days afterwards they began to lay. I then thought that as soon as they had young ones they would wish to go away, so I took the eggs that were laid, to prevent them; but I found that as fast as I took away the eggs they laid more, and this they did for nearly two months, supplying me with fresh eggs long after the wild birds had hatched, and left the island. The male birds, at the time that the females first laid their eggs, tried their wings in short flights in circles; and then flew away out to sea. I thought that they were gone; but I was deceived, for they returned in about a quarter of an hour, each with a fish in its beak, which they laid down before their mates. I was much pleased at this, and I resolved that in future they should supply their own food, which they did; and not their own food only, but enough for the seal and me also, when the weather was fine; but when it was rough, they could not obtain any, and then I was obliged to feed them. The way I obtained from them the extra supply of fish was, that when they first went out, I seized, on their return the fish which they brought; and as often as I did this, they would go for more, until the females were fed. But I had one difficulty to contend with, which was, that at the time the birds could not obtain fish, which was when the weather was rough, I could not neither, as they would not take the bait. After some cogitation, I decided that I would divide a portion of the bathing-pool farthest from the shore, by a wall of loose rock which the water could flow through, but which the fish could not get out of, and that I would catch fish in the fine weather to feed the seal and the birds when the weather was rough and bad. As soon as I had finished curing my stock of provisions and got it safely housed in the cabin, I set to work to make this wall, which did not take me a very long while, as the water was not more than two feet deep, and the pool about ten yards across. As soon as it was finished, I went out every day, when it was fine, and caught as many fish as I thought I might require, and put them into this portion of the bathing-pool. I found the plan answer well, as the fish lived; but I had great difficulty in getting them out when I wanted them; for they would not take the bait. As my birds were no longer a trouble to me, but rather, on the contrary, a profit, I devoted my whole time to my seal. I required a name for him, and reading in the book of Natural History that a certain lion was called Nero, I thought it a very good name for a seal, and bestowed it on him accordingly, although what Nero meant I had no idea of. The animal was now so tame that he would cry if ever I left him, and would follow me as far as he could down the rocks; but there was one part of the path leading to the bathing-pool, which was too difficult for him, and there he would remain crying till I came back. I had more than once taken him down to the bathing-pool to wash him, and he was much pleased when I did. I now resolved that I would clear the path of the rocks, that he might be able to follow me down the whole way, for he had grown so much that I found him too heavy to carry. It occupied me a week before I could roll away and remove the smaller rocks, and knock off others with the axe; but I finished it at last, and was pleased to find that the animal followed me right down and plunged into the water. He had not been down since I had made the wall of rock to keep the fish in, and as soon as he was in, he dived and came out with one of the fish, which he brought to land. "So now," thought I, "I shall know how to get the fish when I want them--I shall bring you down, Nero." I may as well here observe that Nero very soon obeyed orders as faithfully as a dog. I had a little switch, and when he did wrong, I would give him a slight tap on the nose. He would shake his head, show his teeth, and growl, and then come fondly to me. As he used to follow me every day down to the pool, I had to break him of going after the fish when I did not want them taken, and this I accomplished. No one who had not witnessed it, could imagine the affection and docility of this animal, and the love I had for him. He was my companion and playmate during the day, and my bedfellow at night. We were inseparable. It was at the latter portion of the second year of my solitude that a circumstance occurred, that I must now relate. Nero had gone down to the pool with me, and I was standing fishing off the rocks, when he came out of the pool and plunged into the sea, playing all sorts of gambols, and whistling with delight. I did not think anything about it. He plunged and disappeared for a few minutes, and then would come up again close to where my line was; but he disturbed the fish, and I could not catch any. To drive him further off, I pelted him with pieces of rock, one of which hit him very hard, and he dived down. After a time I pulled up my line, and whistling to him to return, although I did not see him, I went away to the cabin, fully expecting that he would soon follow me, for now he could walk (after his fashion) from the cabin to the pool as he pleased. This was early in the morning, and I busied myself with my garden, which was now in great luxuriance, for I had dressed it with guano; but observing about noon that he had not returned, I became uneasy, and went down to the pool to look for him. He was not there, and I looked on the sea, but could not perceive him anywhere. I called and whistled, but it was of no use, and I grew very much alarmed at the idea that my treasure had deserted me. "It could not be because I threw the pieces of rock at him," thought I; "he would not leave me for that." I remained for two or three hours, watching for him, but it was all in vain; there was no seal--no Nero. My heart sank at the idea of the animal having deserted me, and for the first time in my life, as far as I can recollect, I burst into a flood of tears. For the first time in my life, I may say, I felt truly miserable--my whole heart and affections were set upon this animal, the companion and friend of my solitude, and I felt as if existence were a burden without him. After a while, I retraced my steps to the cabin; but I was miserable, more so than I can express. I could not rest quiet. Two hours before sunset, I went down again to the rocks, and called till I was hoarse. It was all in vain; night closed in, and again I returned to the cabin, and threw myself down in my bed-place in utter despair. "I thought he loved me," said I to myself, "loved me as I loved him; I would not have left him in that way." And my tears burst out anew at the idea that I never should see my poor Nero again. The reader may think that my grief was inordinate and unwarrantable; but let him put himself in my position--a lad of sixteen, alone on a desolate island, with only one companion--true, he was an animal, and could not speak, but he was affectionate; he replied to all my caresses; he was my only companion and friend, the only object--that I loved or cared about. He was intelligent, and I thought loved me as much as I loved him; and now he had deserted me, and I had nothing else that I cared about or that cared for me. My tears flowed for more than an hour, till at last I was wearied and fell asleep. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. It was early in the morning, and yet dark, when I felt something touch me. I started up--a low cry of pleasure told me at once it was Nero, who was by my side. Yes, it was Nero, who had come back, having climbed up again the steep path to the cabin, to return to his master. Need I say that I was overjoyed, that I hugged him as if he had been a human being, that I wept over him, and that in a few minutes afterwards we were asleep together in the same bed-place? Such was the fact, and never was there in my after-life so great a transition from grief to joy. "Oh! Now, if you had left me,"--said I to him, the next morning, when I got up; "you naughty seal, to frighten me and make me so unhappy as you did!" Nero appeared quite as happy as I was at our re-union, and was more affectionate than ever. I must now pass over many months in very few words; just stating to the reader what my position was at the end of three years, during which I was alone upon the island. I had now arrived at the age of near seventeen, and was tall and strong for my years. I had left off wearing my dress of the skins of birds, having substituted one of the seaman's shirts, which I had found in the chest. This, however, was the whole of my costume, and although, had it been longer it would have been more correct, still, as I had no other companion but Nero, it was not necessary to be so very particular, as if I had been in society. During these three years, I think I had read the Bible and Prayer-book, and my Natural History book, at least five or six times quite through, and possessing a retentive memory, could almost repeat them by heart; but still I read the Bible as a sealed book, for I did not understand it, having had no one to instruct me, nor any grace bestowed upon me. I read for amusement, and nothing more. My garden was now in a most flourishing condition, the climbing plants had overrun the cabin, so as to completely cover the whole of the roof and every portion of it, and they hung in festoons on each side of the doorway. Many of the plants which I had taken up small, when I moved them, had proved to be trees, and were now waving to the breeze, high above the cabin roof; and everything that I had planted, from continual watering and guano, had grown most luxuriantly. In fact, my cabin was so covered and sheltered, that its original form had totally disappeared; it now looked like an arbour in a clump of trees, and from the rocks by the bathing-pool it had a very picturesque appearance. I had, of course, several times gone up the ravine, and now that my axe had become useful, I had gradually accumulated a large stock of wood down by the bathing-pool, more than I could use for a long while, as I seldom lighted a fire; but the cutting it was employment, and employment was to me a great source of happiness. I had been several times to the other side of the island, and had had more encounters with the seals, of which I killed many, for I found their skins very comfortable and useful in the cabin. I had collected about three dozen of the finest skins, which were more than I required, but I had taken them for the same reason that I had collected the firewood, for the sake of employment; and in this instance, I may add, for the sake of the excitement which the combats with the seals afforded me. I have not narrated any of these conflicts, as I thought that they might weary the reader; I must, however, state what occurred on one occasion, as although ludicrous, it nearly cost me my life. I had attacked a large male seal, with a splendid fur, for I always looked out for the best-skinned animals. He was lying on a rock close to the water, and I had gone into the water to cut him off and prevent his escape by plunging in as he would otherwise have done; but as I aimed the usual blow at his nose, my foot slipped on the wet rock, and I missed the animal, and at the same time fell down on the rock with the axe in my hand. The animal, which was a male of the largest size, seized hold of my shirt (which I then wore) with his teeth, and plunging with me into the sea, dived down into the deep water. It was fortunate that he had seized my shirt instead of my body, and also that I could swim well. He carried me along with him--the shirt, for a few seconds, drawn over my head, when, disembarrassing myself of the garment, by slipping my head and arms out, I left it in his possession, and regained the surface of the water, almost suffocated. It was fortunate that I did not wear sleeve-buttons; had I had them, I could not have disengaged myself, and must have perished. I climbed the rock again, and turning round, I perceived the seal on the surface, shaking the shirt in great wrath. This was a sad discomfiture, as I lost not only my shirt but my axe, which I dropped when I was dragged into the water; nothing was saved except my knife, which I carried by a lanyard round my neck. Why I mention this circumstance particularly, is, that having felt great inconvenience for want of sleeve-buttons to hold the wristbands of my shirt together, I had thought of making use of those of the mate, which the reader may recollect had been given with his watch into Jackson's care, to take home to his wife; but on second consideration I thought it very possible I might lose them, and decided that the property was in trust, and that I had no right to risk it. This correct feeling on my part, therefore, was probably the saving of my life. I have only now to mention my birds, and of them I can merely say that they went on as before; they bathed constantly, at the right season they laid eggs, the male birds caught fish and brought them to the cabin, and they were just as stupid and uninteresting as they were at first; however, they never left me, nor indeed showed any intention to leave me, after the first season of the birds returning to the island. They were useful but not very ornamental, and not at all interesting to one who had such an intelligent companion as Nero. Having new brought up my history, in a few words, until the time referred to, I come to the narrative of what occurred to produce a change in my condition. I have said that in the chest there was a spy-glass, but it had been wetted with salt-water, and was useless. Jackson had tried to show me how to use it, and had shown me correctly, but the glasses were dimmed by the wet and subsequent evaporation from heat. I had taken out all the glasses and cleaned them, except the field-glass, as it is called; but that being composed of two glasses, the water had penetrated between them, and it still remained so dull that nothing could be distinguished through it, at the time that Jackson was showing me how to use the instrument; it was therefore put on one side as useless. A year afterwards I took it out, from curiosity, and then I discovered that the moisture between the two glasses had been quite dried up, and that I could see very clearly through it, and after a little practice I could use it as well as anybody else. Still I seldom did use it, as my eyesight was particularly keen, and I did not require it; and as for any vessel coming off the island, I had gradually given up all thoughts of it. It was one evening when the weather was very rough and the sea much agitated, that I thought I saw something unusual on the water, about four miles distant. I supposed at first it might be a spermaceti whale, for numbers used to play round the island at certain seasons, and I used to watch their blowing and their gambols, if I may use the term, and Jackson, often told me long stories about the whale-fisheries; but a ray of the setting sun made the object appear white, and I ran for the glass, and made out that it was a boat or a very small vessel, with a sail out, and running before the gale right down to the island. I watched it till it was dark with much interest, and with thoughts of various kinds chasing each other; and then I began to consider what was best to do. I knew that in an hour the moon would rise, and as the sky was not cloudy, although the wind and sea were high, I should probably be able to see it again. "But they never can get on shore on this side of the island," thought I, "with so much sea. Yes they might, if they ran for the bathing-pool." After thinking awhile, I decided that I would go down to the bathing-pool, and place lighted fagots on the rocks on each side of the entrance, as this would show them where to run for, and how to get in. I waited a little longer, and then taking my spy-glass and some tinder with me, I went down to the pool, carried two fagots to the rocks on each side, and having set them on fire and taken up others to replace them as soon as they were burnt out, I sat down with my spy-glass to see if I could make out where the boat might be. As the moon rose, I descried her now within a mile of the island, and her head directed towards the beacon lights made by the burning fagots. I threw another fagot on each, and went down for a further supply. The gale had increased, and the spray now dashed over the rocks to where the fagots were burning, and threatened to extinguish them, but I put on more wood and kept up a fierce blaze. In a quarter of an hour I could distinguish the boat; it was now close to the island, perhaps three hundred yards distant, steering not directly for the lights, but more along shore. The fact was that they had hauled up, not knowing how they could land until they had observed the two lights clear of each other, and then they understood why they had been made; and a moment afterwards they bore up right for the entrance to the bathing-pool, and came rushing on before the rolling seas. I still trembled for them, as I knew that if the sea receded at the time that they came to the ledge of rocks at the entrance, the boat would be dashed to pieces, although their lives might be saved; but fortunately for them, it was not so--on the contrary, they came in borne upon a huge wave which carried them clear over the ledge, right up to the wall of rock which I had made across the pool, and then the boat grounded. "Hurrah! Well done, that," said a voice from the boat. "Lower away the sail, my lads; all's right." The sail was lowered down, and then, by the light of the fire, I discovered that there were several people in the boat. I had been too much excited to say anything, indeed, I did not know what to say. I only felt that I was no more alone, and the reader may imagine my joy and delight. CHAPTER NINETEEN. As soon as the sail was lowered, the men leaped over the sides of the boat into the water, and waded to the rocks. "Who are you?" said one of the men, addressing me, "and how many of you are there here?" "There is no one on the island but myself," replied I; "but I'm so glad that you have come." "Are you? Then perhaps you'll tell us how to get something to eat, my hearty?" replied he. "Oh yes, wait a little, and I'll bring you plenty," replied I. "Well, then, look smart, that's a beauty, for we are hungry enough to eat you, if you can find us nothing better." I was about to go up to the cabin for some birds, when another man called out:-- "I say--can you get us any water?" "Oh yes, plenty," replied I. "Well then, I say, Jim, hand us the pail out of the boat." The one addressed did so, and the man put it into my hands, saying, "Bring us that pail, boy, will you?" I hastened up to the cabin, filled the pail full of water, and then went for a quantity of dried birds, with which I hastened down again to the bathing-pool. I found the men had not been idle; they had taken some fagots off the stack and made a large fire under the rocks, and were then busy making a sort of tent with the boat's sails. "Here's the water, and here's some birds," said I, as I came up to them. "Birds! What birds?" said the man who had first spoken to me, and appeared to have control over the rest. He took one up and examined it by the light of the fire, exclaiming, "Queer eating, I expect." "Why, you didn't expect a regular hotel when you landed, did you, mate?" said one of the men. "No, if I had, I would have called for a glass of grog," replied he. "I suspect I might call a long while before I get any one to bring me one here." As I knew that Jackson called the rum by the name of grog, I said, "There's plenty of grog, if you want any." "Is there, my hearty,--where?" "Why, in that cask that's in the water on the other side of your little ship," replied I. "I can draw you some directly." "What! In that cask? Grog floating about in salt-water, that's too bad. Come here all of you. You're in earnest, boy--no joking I hope, or you may repent it." "I'm not joking," said I--"there it is." The man, followed by all the rest excepting one of the party, waded into the water, and went to the cask of rum. "Take care," said I, "the spiles are in." "So I see--never fear, my hearty--come now all of us." So saying, the whole of them laid hold of the cask by the chains, and lifting it up, they carried it clean out of the water, and placed it on the rocks by the side of the pool. "Hand us the little kid out of the boat, Jim," said the man; "we'll soon see if it's the right stuff." He took out the spiles, drew off some of the liquor, and tasting it, swore it was excellent. It was then handed round, and all the men took some. "We're in luck to-night; we're fallen upon our legs," said the first man. "I say, Jim, put them dried chickens into the pitch-kettle along with some taters out of the bag--they'll make a good mess; and then with this cask of grog to go to, we shan't do badly." "I say, old fellow," said he, turning to me, "you're a regular trump. Who left you on shore to get all ready for us?" "I was born here," replied I. "Born here! Well, we'll hear all about that to-morrow--just now, we'll make up for lost time, for we've had nothing to eat or drink since Wednesday morning. Look alive, my lads! Get up the hurricane-house. Jim, put the pail of water into the kettle, and send the islander here for another pailful, for grog." The pail was handed to me, and I soon returned with it full; and, as I did not see that they had a pannikin, I brought one down and gave it to them. "You're a fine boy," said the mate (as I afterwards found out that he was). "And now, I say, where do you hold out? Have you a hut or a cave to live in?" "Yes," replied I; "I have a cabin, but it is not large enough for all of you." "No, no! We don't want to go there--we are very well where we are, alongside of the cask of rum; but you see, my lad, we have a woman here." "A woman!" said I; "I never saw a woman. Where is she?" "There she is, sitting by the fire." I looked round, and perceived that there was one of the party wrapped up in a blanket, and with a wide straw hat on the head, which completely concealed the form from me. The fact is, that the woman looked like a bundle, and remained by the fire quite as inanimate. At my saying that I never saw a woman, the man burst into a loud laugh. "Why, did you not say that you were born on this island, boy?" said the mate at last. "Were you born without a mother?" "I cannot recollect my mother--she died when I was very young; and therefore I said that I had never seen a woman." "Well, that's explained; but you see, my lad--this is not only a woman, but a very particular sort of a woman; and it will not do for her to remain here after we have had our supper--for after supper, the men may take a drop too much, and not behave themselves; so I asked you about your cabin, that you might take her there to sleep. Can you do that?" "Yes," replied I; "I will take her there if she wishes to go." "That's all right then; she'll be better there than here, at all events. I say, boy, where did you leave your trousers?" "I never wear any." "Well then, if you have any, I advise you to put them on, for you are quite old enough to be breeched." I remained with them while the supper was cooking, asking all manner of questions, which caused great mirth. The pitch-kettle, which was a large iron pot on three short legs, surprised me a good deal; I had never seen such a thing before, or anything put on the fire. I asked what it was, and what it was made of. The potatoes also astonished me, as I had never yet seen an edible root. "Why, where have you been all your life?" said one of the men. "On this island," replied I, very naively. I waded into the water to examine the boat as well as I could by the light of the fire, but I could see little, and was obliged to defer my examination till the next day. Before the supper was cooked and eaten, I did, however, gain the following information. That they were a portion of the crew of a whaler, which had struck on a reef of rocks about seventy miles off, and that they had been obliged to leave her immediately, as she fell on her broadside a few minutes afterwards; that they had left in two boats, but did not know what had become of the other boat, which parted company during the night. The captain and six men were in the other boat, and the mate with six men in the one which had just landed--besides the lady. "What's a lady?" said I. "I mean the woman who sits there; her husband was killed by some of the people of the Sandwich Isles, and she was going home to England. We have a consort, another whaler, who was to have taken our cargo of oil on board, and to have gone to England with that and her own cargo, and the missionary's wife was to have been sent home in her." "What's a missionary?" inquired I. "Well, I don't exactly know; but he is a preacher who goes out to teach the savages." By this time the supper was cooked, and the odour from the pitch-kettle was more savoury than anything that I had ever yet smelt. The kettle was lifted off the fire, the contents of it poured into a kid, and after they had given a portion in the small kid to the woman, who still remained huddled up in the blanket by the fire, they all sat round the large kid, and commenced their supper. "Come, boy, and join us," said the mate, "you can't have had your supper; and as you've found one for us, it's hard but you should share it with us." I was not sorry to do as he told me, and I must say that I never enjoyed a repast so much in my life. "I say, boy, have you a good stock of them dried chickens of yours?" said the mate. "Yes, I have a great many, but not enough to last long for so many people." "Well, but we can get more, can't we?" "No!" replied I, "not until the birds come again, and that will not be for these next five moons?" "Five moons! What do you mean?" "I mean, five full moons must come, one after another." "Oh, I understand; why then we must not remain on the island." "No," replied I, "we must all go, or we shall starve; I am so glad that you are come, and the sooner you go the better. Will you take Nero with you?" "Who is Nero?" "Nero--my seal--he's very tame." "Well, we'll see about it; at all events," said he, turning to the other men, "we must decide upon something, and that quickly, for we shall starve if we remain here any time." It appeared, that they had left the whaler in such a hurry, that they had only had time to throw into the boat two breakers of water, four empty breakers to fill with salt-water for ballast to the boat, and the iron pitch-kettle, with a large sack of potatoes. As soon as supper was finished, they went to the cask for the rum, and then the mate said to me:-- "Now I'll go and speak to the woman, and you shall take her to sleep in your cabin." During the whole of this time, the woman, as the mate called her, had never spoken a word. She had taken her supper, and eaten it in silence, still remaining by the fire, huddled up in the blanket. On the mate speaking to her, she rose up, and I then perceived that she was much taller than I thought she could have been; but her Panama hat still concealed her face altogether. "Now then, my lad," said the mate, "show the lady where she is to sleep, and then you can join us again if you like." "Will you come with me?" said I, walking away. The woman followed me up the path. When we arrived at the platform opposite the cabin, I recollected Nero, whom I had ordered to stay there till my return. "You won't be afraid of the seal," said I, "will you? He is very good-natured. Nero, come here." It was rather dark as Nero came shuffling up, and I went forward to coax him, for he snarled a little at seeing a stranger. "Have you no light at hand?" said my companion, speaking for the first time, in a very soft yet clear voice. "No, I have not, but I will get some tinder, and make a fire with one of the fagots, and then you will be able to see." "Do so, then, my good lad," replied she. I thought her voice very pleasing. I soon lighted the fagot and enabled her to see Nero (who was now quite quiet), and also the interior of the cabin. She examined the cabin and the bed-places, and then said: "Where do you sleep?" I replied by showing her my bed-place. "And this," said I, pointing to the one opposite, "was Jackson's, and you can sleep in that. Nero sleeps with me. Here are plenty of seal-skins to keep you warm, if you are cold. Are your clothes wet?" "No, they are quite dry now," replied she; "if you will get me some seal-skins, I will lie down on them, for I am very tired." I spread five or six skins one on the other, in Jackson's bed-place, and then I went out and threw another fagot on the fire, that we might have more light. "Do you want anything else?" said I. "Nothing, I thank you. Are you going to bed now?" "I was meaning to go down again to the men, but now I think of it, I do not like to leave you alone with Nero, as he might bite you. Are you afraid of him?" "No, I'm not much afraid, but still I have no wish to be bitten, and I am not used to sleep with such animals, as you are." "Well then, I'll tell you how we'll manage it. I will take some skins outside, and sleep there. Nero will not leave me, and then you won't be afraid. The weather is clearing up fast, and there's very little wind to what there was besides, it will be daylight in three or four hours." "As you please," was the reply. Accordingly, I took some seal-skins out on the platform, and spreading them, I lay down upon them, wishing her good night, and Nero soon joined me, and we were both fast asleep in a few minutes. CHAPTER TWENTY. Nero, who was an early riser, woke me up at daybreak, or I should have slept much longer; for I had been tired out with the fatigue and excitement of the night before. As soon as I was up, I looked into the cabin, and found the woman was fast asleep; her straw hat was off, but she had lain down in her clothes. Her black hair was hanging about her shoulders. Having only seen Jackson with his bushy beard, I had been somewhat surprised when I first saw the men on their landing so comparatively clear of hair on their face; my astonishment at the clear white skin of a woman--and in this instance, it was peculiarly white and pallid--was very great. I also perceived how much more delicate her features were than those of the men; her teeth, too, were very white, and Jackson's were discoloured and bad; I longed to see her eyes, but they were closed. Any other difference I could not perceive, as she had drawn the blanket close up to her chin. "This is then a woman;" said I to myself: "yes, and it's very like what I used to see in my dreams." I looked a little longer, and then, hearing Nero coming into the cabin behind me, and afraid that she would awake, I made a hasty retreat. I remained at this part of the cabin considering what I should do. I thought I would light a fire, and go down for a fish to broil on the embers for her breakfast, so I called Nero to come down with me. On arriving at the pool, I found all the seamen fast asleep under the tent they had made with the boat's sails; and they appeared to be much the same as Jackson used to be after he had got drunk the night before; I presumed, therefore, that such was their state, and was not far wrong. Nero went into the pool and brought out a fish, as I ordered him, and I then walked to the boat to examine it. This took me half an hour, and I was sorry that none of the men were awake, that so I might ask any questions I wished. I examined the pitch-kettle, and the boat's sails, and the breakers. Breakers are small casks, holding about six to seven gallons of water, and are very handy for boats. I remained about an hour, and then went back to the cabin, carrying a fagot on my shoulder, Nero following with the fish in his mouth. We were met by the woman, who came out of the cabin; she no longer had the blanket round her, for it was a beautiful bright morning, and very warm. "Nero is bringing you your breakfast," said I, "so you ought to like him." "I dare say I shall, if we are to be companions in future," replied she. "Do you want anything?" said I. "Yes, a little water, if you can get me some." I filled the kid from the spring, put it down by her, and then took out the inside of the fish, and fed the birds, who were crowding round me. The woman washed her face and hands, braided up her hair, and then sat down on the rock. In the mean time, I had lighted my fagot, cleaned the fish, and waited till the wood was burnt to ashes before I put the fish on the fire. Having then nothing to do, I thought that reading would amuse the woman, and I went in for the Bible. "Shall I read to you?" said I. "Yes," replied she with some astonishment in her looks. I read to her the history of Joseph and his brethren, which was my favourite story in the Bible. "Who taught you to read?" said she, as I shut the book, and put the fish on the embers. "Jackson," said I. "He was a good man, was he not?" replied she. I shook my head. "No, not very good," said I, at last. "If you knew all about him, you would say the same; but he taught me to read." "How long have you been on this island?" said she. "I was born on it, but my father and mother are both dead, and Jackson died three years ago--since that I have been quite alone, only Nero with me." She then asked me a great many more questions, and I gave her a short narration of what had passed, and what Jackson had told me; I also informed her how it was I procured food, and how we must soon leave the island, now that we were so many, or the food would not last out till the birds came again. By this time the fish was cooked, and I took it off the fire and put it into the kid, and we sat down to breakfast; in an hour or so we had become very sociable. I must, however, now stop a little to describe her. What the men had told me was quite true. She had lost her husband, and was intending to proceed to England. Her name was Reichardt, for her husband was a German, or of German family. She was, as I have since ascertained, about thirty-seven years old, and very tall and elegant; she must have been very handsome when she was younger, but she had suffered much hardship in following her husband as she had done, through all the vicissitudes of his travels. Her face was oval; eyes black and large; and her hair black as the raven's wing; her features were small and regular; her teeth white and good; but her complexion was very pallid, and not a vestige of colour on her cheeks. As I have since thought, it was more like a marble statue than anything I can compare her to. There was a degree of severity in her countenance when she did not smile, and it was seldom that she did. I certainly looked upon her with more awe than regard, for some time after I became acquainted with her; and yet her voice was soft and pleasant, and her manners very amiable; but it must be remembered I had never before seen a woman. After breakfast was over, I proposed going down to where the seamen lay, to see if they were awake; but I told her I thought that they would not be. "I will go with you, as I left a basket with some things of mine in the boat, and it will be as well to bring them up at once." We therefore set off together, I having ordered Nero to stay in the cabin. On our arrival at the pool, we found the men still fast asleep; and by her directions I went into the water to the boat, and brought out a basket and a small bundle which she pointed out. "Shall I wake them?" said I. "No, no," replied she; "so long as they sleep, they will be doing no harm. But," said she, "we may as well take some potatoes up with us; fill both these handkerchiefs," continued she, taking two out of the bundle. I did so, and she took one and I the other, and we returned to the cabin. "Are these all the birds that you have for food?" said she, looking at the pile in the cabin. "Yes," replied I. "But what are we to do with the potatoes?" "We can roast them by the fire if we like," said she; "but at present we had better take them into the cabin. Did you plant all these flowers and creepers which grow over the cabin?" "Yes," replied I. "I was alone and had nothing to do, so I thought I would make a garden." "They are very pretty. Now that I am back, you can go down to the men if you please, and tell them, when they wake up, that I wish to have the smallest of the boat's sails, to make a screen of. Tell the mate--he is the most civil." "I will," said I. "Is there anything else?" "Yes, bring up a few more potatoes; they will let you take them if you say that I told you." "Shall I take Nero with me?" "Yes, I do not want his company, for I am a little afraid of him." I called Nero, who came after me, and went down to the pool, when I found that the men had all woke up, and were very busy, some lighting a fire, some washing potatoes, and some trying to catch the fish in the pool. "Oh, here he is. Come, boy, what have you got for our breakfast? We've been trying to catch some of these fish, but they're as quick as eels." "Nero will soon catch you what you want," replied I. "Here, Nero, in." Nero plunged in, and soon brought out a fish, and I then sent him in for another. "Thanks, lad," said the mate, "that will be enough for our breakfast. That seal of yours is a handy fellow, and well trained." While the other men were getting breakfast, one of them went up to Nero, I believe with the intention of making friends with him, but Nero rejected his advances, and showed his sharp teeth, snapping at him several times. The man became angry, and caught up a piece of rock to throw at the seal. He aimed at the animal's nose, and narrowly missed hitting it. Had he done so, he would probably have killed it. This made me very angry, and I told the man not to do so again; upon this, he caught up another, and was about to throw it, when I seized him by the collar with my left hand, and with my right drawing my American knife, I threatened to stab him with it, if he attacked the beast. The man started back, and in so doing, fell over a piece of rock, on his back. This quarrel brought the mate to us, along with two or three of the men. My knife was still lifted up, when the mate said: "Come, my hearty, no knives, we don't allow them. That's not English. Put it up; no one shall hurt the beast, I promise you. Bob, you fool, why couldn't you leave the animal alone? You forget you are among savages here." At this, the other men burst out into a laugh. "Yes," observed one; "I can swear, when I get back, that the natives of this island are savages, who eat raw flesh, have seals for playmates, and don't wear clothes enough for common decency?" This made them laugh more, and the man who had attacked Nero, and who had got upon his legs again, joined with the others; so all was again good humour. The men sat down to their breakfast, while I examined the boat again, and afterwards asked many questions, with which they were much amused, every now and then observing, "Well, he is a savage!" After they had breakfasted, I made Nero catch another fish, and sent him up to the cabin with it, as I was afraid that the man might do him an injury, and then told the mate that the woman had desired me to bring up some potatoes. "Take them," said he; "but you have nothing to carry them up with. Here, fill the pail, and I will go to the cabin with you." "She told me that I was to ask you for a small boat's sail, to hang up as a screen." "Well, she shall have the boat's mizen. We don't want it. I'll carry it up." The mate threw the sail and yard over his shoulder, and followed me up to the cabin. On our arrival, we found the missionary's wife sitting on the platform, Nero lying not far from her, with the fish beside him. The mate took off his hat, and saluted my new companion, saying, that he hoped she was comfortable last night. "Yes," replied she, "as much so as I could expect; but I turned this good lad out of his cabin, which I do not wish to do again, and therefore I requested the sail for a screen. Now, John Gough, what do you intend to do?" continued she. The mate replied, "I came up here to see what quantity of provision the lad might have. By his account, it will not last more than a month, and it will take some time before we can reach where we are likely to fall in with any vessel. Stay here we cannot, for we shall only eat the provision and lose time; therefore the sooner we are off the better." "If you take all the provision, of course you will take the lad with you?" replied she. "Of course we will." "And my chest, and my seal?" inquired I. "Yes, your chest, certainly; but as for your seal, I do not know what to say to that--he will be starved in the boat, and if you give him his liberty, he will do well enough." "What you say is very true," replied the woman. "I am afraid, boy, that you will have to part with your friend. It will be better for both of you." I made no reply; for it cut me to the heart to think of parting with Nero; but still I had sense enough to perceive that what they said was right. The mate then went into the cabin, and examined the heap of dried birds which I had collected, and having made his calculation, said that there were sufficient for three weeks, but not more. "And when do you think of leaving this island?" inquired the woman. "The day after to-morrow, if I can persuade the men, madam," replied he; "but you know they are not very easy to manage, and very thoughtless, especially now that they have so unexpectedly fallen in with liquor." "That I admit," replied she; "but as they will probably take the liquor in the boat, that will not make so great a difference." "I shall go down and speak to them, now they're all sober," replied the mate, "and will let you know in the evening; or to-morrow morning perhaps, will be better." The mate then saluted her, by touching his hat, and left us. CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. There was one thing which had made a great impression on me in the conversation with the men in the morning. They called me a savage, and said that I had not sufficient clothes on; and as I observed that they were all dressed in jackets and trousers, which covered them from head to foot, I took it for granted that my shirt, which was all that I wore, was not a sufficient clothing. This had never occurred to me before, nor can the reader be surprised at it. I had been like our first parents in Eden--naked but not ashamed; but now that I had suddenly come in contact with my fellow-men, I felt as if something were amiss. The consequence was, that I went to the chest and got out a pair of white trousers, and put them on. I thought them very uncomfortable and very unnecessary articles; but others--wore them, and I felt that I must do so also. They were rather long for me, but I rolled up the bottoms of the legs, as I observed that the seamen did, and then came out on the platform, where the missionary's wife was still seated, looking out upon the waves as they lashed the rocks. She immediately observed the addition that I had made to my dress, and said-- "That is a great improvement. Now you look like other people. What is your name? You have not told me." When I had answered the question, I said to her-- "I have brought up more of the potatoes, as you call them; what am I to do with them?" "First tell me, have you any spot that you know about the island where there is mould--that is, earth, like you have in your garden--where we can plant them?" "Yes," replied I, "there is some up there;" and I pointed to one-third up the ravine. "I brought all this earth from there, and there is plenty of it; but what is the good of planting them?" "Because," said she, "one of the potatoes planted will, in a very short time, grow, and then it will produce perhaps thirty or forty potatoes at its roots as large as these; they are excellent things for food, and where there is nothing else to be had, may be the means of preserving life." "Well, that may be," replied I, "and if we were going to remain on the island, it would be well to plant them; but as we are going away the day after to-morrow, what's the use of it? I know that they are very nice, for I had some for supper last night." "But are we only to think of ourselves in this world, and not of others?" replied she, "Suppose, two or three years hence, another boat were to be cast away on this island, and not find, as we have, you here, with provisions ready for them, they would starve miserably; whereas, if we plant these potatoes, they may find plenty of food and be saved. Only think how glad your father and mother would have been to have found potatoes on the island when they were thrown on it. We must not live only for ourselves, but we must think and try to do good to others--that is the duty of a Christian." "I think you are very right," replied I, "and a very kind person too. If you wish it, I will go and plant the potatoes this day. How am I to plant them?" "They have a shovel in the boat," said she, "for I saw them throwing the water out with it. Go down and get it, and then I will go with you and show you." I went down and the mate gave me the shovel, which I carried up to her. I found her cutting the potatoes into pieces, and she showed me how she cut them, leaving an eye in each piece, and explained the reason for it. I was soon very busy cutting away alongside of her, and before long the pail of potatoes was all ready to be planted. We then walked to the ravine, and she showed me how to use the shovel, and I made the holes. Before noon we had planted all that we had cut, but we had still the two handkerchiefs full that we had at first brought up with us. We returned to the cabin, and I prepared the fish for dinner. After it was on the embers, she wished to have the screen put up beside her bed-place. "Go down to the mate," said she, "and ask him for the hammer and three or four nails. I know they have them in the boat." "I may as well take them down some birds for their dinner," replied I, "for, they will want them." "Yes, do so; and then come back to me as soon as you can." The mate gave me the hammer, an article I had never seen before, and five or six nails, with which I returned to the cabin, and nailed up the sail as a screen. "Now you will be able to sleep in your own bed-place to-night," said she. I made no reply; but I could not imagine why I could not have done so the night before, for I had only gone out of the cabin that she might not be frightened by Nero being so close to her. After we had eaten our dinner, she said to me-- "How could you contrive to live on this island, if you had no dried birds?" "How?" replied I; "why very badly. I might catch fish; but there are times in the year when you can catch no fish, they won't take bait, neither will they when the weather is rough. Besides, I have only two lines, and I might lose them both--then what would become of me? I should starve." "Well, then, you see under all circumstances, it was just as well to plant the potatoes, for other people may come here and be in your position." "Yes, that is true, but we shall not be here long now, and you don't know how glad I am to go. I want to see all the things that I have read about in my books. I want to go to England and look for somebody; but you don't know all that I know; some day I will tell you all-- everything. I am so tired of living here by myself--nothing to say--no one to talk to--no one to care for, except Nero, and he can't speak. I can't bear the idea of parting with him, though." "Would you rather stay on the island with Nero, than go away without him?" "No," replied I; "go I must, but still I do not like to part with him. He is the only friend that I ever had, that I can remember." "When you have lived longer, and mixed more with the world, my poor boy, you will then find how many sacrifices you will be obliged to make, much more serious than parting with an animal that you are attached to. I suppose you expect to be very happy if ever you get back to England?" "Of course I do; why should I not be?" replied I; "I shall be always happy." The missionary's wife shook her head. "I fear not. Indeed, I think if you live long enough, you will acknowledge that the happiest of your days were passed on this barren rock." "Jackson said otherwise," replied I. "He was always grieving at being on the island, and not able to get back to England; and he told me so many stories about England, and what is done there and what a beautiful place it is, that I'm sure I shall like it better than being here, even if I had somebody with me." "Well, you are in the hands of God, and you must put your trust in him. He will do with you as he thinks best for you--that you know, as you read your Bible." "No, I didn't know that," replied I. "God lives beyond the stars, a long way off." "Is that all you have gained by reading your Bible?" inquired she, looking me in the face. "No, not all," replied I; "but I do not understand a great deal that I read; I want some one to tell me. I am so glad you came with the men in the boat, for I never saw a woman before. I used to see somebody in my dreams, and now I know it was a woman. It was my mother; but I have not seen her for a long while now, and I have nobody but Nero." "My poor boy, you have a father in heaven." "Yes," replied I; "I know he is in heaven, and so is my mother; for Jackson said that they were both very good." "I mean your Heavenly Father, God. Do you not say in the Lord's Prayer, `Our Father which art in heaven?' You must love him." I was about to reply, when John Gough, the mate, came up, and told my companion, that he had been speaking to the men, and they had agreed that the day after the next they would, if the weather permitted, leave the island; that they had examined the boat, and found it required very little repair, and that all would be ready the next day. "I hope that they will not overload the boat," said she. "I fear that they will, but I must do all I can to prevent it. The cask of rum was rather an unfortunate discovery, and we had been better without it. Leave it they will not, so we must put out of the boat all that we can possibly do without, for we shall be nine of us, and that will be plenty of weight with the addition of the cask." "You promised to take my chest, you remember," said I. "Yes, I will do so if I possibly can; but recollect, I may not be able to keep my promise; for now that they have the liquor, the men do not obey me as they did before, ma'am," said the mate. "Perhaps he had better take the best of his clothes in a bundle, in case they should refuse to take in the chest; and I must say, that, loaded as the boat will be, they will be much to blame if they do not refuse, for the boat is but small for stowage, and there's all the provisions to put in her, which will take up a deal of room." "That is very true," replied the woman. "It will be better to leave the chest here, for I do not think that the boat will hold it. You must not mind your chest, my good boy, it is of no great value." "They take my rum and all my birds, and they ought to take both me and my chest." "Not if it takes up too much room," replied the woman. "You cannot expect it. The wishes of one person must give way to the wishes of many." "Why, they would have starved if it had not been for me," replied I, angrily. "That's very true, boy," replied the mate; "but you have to learn yet, that might is right; and recollect that what you did this morning has not made you any great favourite with them." "What was that?" inquired my companion. "Only that he nearly drove his knife through one of the men, that's all," replied the mate; "English sailors ar'n't fond of knives." He then touched his hat, and went down again to the pool, desiring me to follow him with a kid for our share of the supper. I did so, and on my return she asked me why I had drawn my knife upon the seaman, and I narrated how it occurred. She pointed out to me the impropriety of what I had done, asking me whether the Bible did not tell us we were to forgive injuries. "Yes," replied I; "but is it not injuries to ourselves? I did forgive Jackson; but this was to prevent his hurting another." "Another! Why you talk of Nero as if the animal was a rational being, and his life of as much consequence as that of a fellow-creature. I do not mean to say but that the man was very wrong, and that you must have felt angry if an animal you were so fond of had been killed; but there is a great difference between the life of an animal and that of a fellow-creature. The animal dies, and there is an end of it; but a man has an immortal soul, which never perishes, and nothing can excuse your taking the life of a man, except in self-defence. Does not the commandment say, `Thou shalt not kill?'" She then talked to me a long while upon the subject, and fully made me understand that I had been very wrong, and I confessed that I had been so. CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. I now resolved to speak to her relative to the belt which contained the diamonds; and I was first obliged to narrate to her in a few words what Jackson had told me. She heard me with great interest, now and then asking a question. When I had told her all, I said-- "Now, as they talk of not taking my chest, what shall I do? Shall I wear the belt myself, or shall I put it in the bundle? Or will you wear it for me, as my mother would have done, if she had been alive?" She did not reply for some time, at last she said, as if talking to herself, and not to me-- "How unsearchable are thy ways, O God!" Indeed, although I did not feel it at the time, I have afterwards thought, and she told me herself, how great her surprise was at finding in the unshorn little savage, thus living alone upon a desolate rock, a lad of good birth, and although he did not know it, with a fortune in his charge, which would, in all probability, be ultimately his own. This is certain, that the interest she felt towards me increased every hour, as by degrees I disclosed my history. "Well," replied she, "if you will trust me, I will take charge of your belt. To-morrow we will select out of the chest what will be best to take with you, and then we will arrange as you wish." After about an hour's more conversation, she went into the cabin, and retired behind the screen which had been fixed up, telling me that she did not mind Nero, and that I might go to bed when I pleased. As I was not much inclined to go down to the seamen, I followed her advice and went to bed; but I could not sleep for a long time from the noise which the men made, who were carousing at the bathing-pool. The idea of parting with Nero also lay heavy upon my heart, though the woman had almost satisfied me that as soon as I was gone, the animal would resume its natural habits, and care nothing for me. I was up the next morning early, and went down with Nero to obtain the fish which we required. I left some on the rocks for the seamen's breakfast (for they were all sound asleep), and then returned to the cabin, and prepared for our own. Mrs Reichardt, as I shall now call her, soon came out to me, and when breakfast was over, proposed that we should plant the remainder of the potatoes, before we packed up the things in the chest. As soon as they were all cut, we set off to the ravine, and had finished our task before noon, at which time there were but few of the seamen stirring, they had remained up so long the night before, drinking. The mate was one of those who were on their legs, and he asked me if I thought we should have smooth water to launch the boat on the following day. I replied in the affirmative, and went with Mrs Reichardt to the cabin, and putting down the shovel, I hauled my chest out on the platform to select what articles I should take. While we were thus employed, and talking at times, the men came up for the dried birds to take down ready for putting them in the boat on the following day, and in two trips they had cleared out the whole of them. "Have you used all the potatoes you brought up?" said one of the men; "for we shall be short of provisions." Mrs Reichardt replied that we had none left. "Well then," said the man, "the mate says you had better bring down that brute of yours to catch the rest of the fish in the pond, that we may cook them before we start, as they will make two days' meals at least." "Very well," replied I; "I will come down directly." I did so, and Nero, in a quarter of an hour, had landed all the fish, and I then returned with him to the cabin. Mrs R had selected the best of the clothes, and made them up in a tight bundle, which she sewed up with strong thread. My books she had left out, as well as the spy-glass, and the tools I had, as they might be useful. I asked her whether I should carry them down to the bathing-pool, but she replied that on the morning when we embarked would be quite time enough. I then went to the hole under Jackson's bed-place, and brought out the belt and the few articles that were with it. Mrs R, after having examined them, said that she would take care of them all; the watch and other trinkets she put in her basket; the belt she took to the bed-place, and secreted it. She appeared very silent and thoughtful, and on my asking her whether I should not take down the shovel, and the pail, and hammer, she replied, "No, leave all till we are ready to go to the boat. It will be time enough." Shortly afterwards, the mate brought us up some of the fish which they had cooked for supper, and when we had eaten it we went to bed. "This is the last night we shall sleep together, Nero," said I, kissing my favourite, and the thought brought tears into my eyes. "But it can't be helped." I was, however, soon fast asleep, with my arm round the animal. When I went out the next morning, I found that the weather was beautifully fine, the water smooth, and only rippled by a light breeze. As Mrs R had not yet made her appearance, I went down to the bathing-pool, where I found all the men up and in full activity. The boat had been emptied out, the oars, masts, and sails, were on the rocks; and the men were turning the bows to the seaward in readiness for launching her over the ledge of rocks. The dried birds lay in a heap by the side of the cask of rum, and the fish which had been baked were in the large kid. The six breakers were also piled up together, and the mate and some of the men were disputing as to how many of them should be filled with water. The mate wanted them all filled; the men said that three would be sufficient, as the boat would be so loaded. At last the mate gained his point, and the men each took a breaker, and went up to the cabin for the water. I went with them to fill the breakers, and also to see that they did no mischief, for they appeared very unruly and out of temper; and I was afraid that they would hurt Nero, who was at the cabin, if I was not there to prevent them; but with the exception of examining the cabin, and forcing themselves in upon Mrs Reichardt, they did nothing. When the breakers were full, which took at least half an hour, they did indeed try to catch the birds, and would have wrung their necks, but the males flew away, and the females I put into the bed-place that was screened off in the cabin, and near which Mrs Reichardt was sitting. They all appeared to have a great awe and respect for this woman, and a look from her was more effectual than were any words of the mate. "We don't want you," said one of the men, as they went down to the bathing-pool with the breakers on their shoulders. "Why don't you keep up with the lady? You're quite a lady's man, now you've white trousers on." The others who followed him laughed at this latter remark. "I'm of no use up there, at present," said I; "and I may be down below." The men set down the breakers on the rocks by the pool, and then, under the directions of the mate, prepared to launch the boat over the ledge. The masts of the boat were placed athwartships, under her keel, for her to run upon, and being now quite empty, she was very light. She was what they call a whale-boat, fitted for the whale-fishery, pointed at both ends, and steered by an oar; she was not very large, but held seven people comfortably, and she was remarkably well fitted with sails and masts, having two lugs and a mizen. As soon as they were all ready, the men went to the side of the boat, and in a minute she was launched into the sea without injury. The mate said to me, as they brought her broadside to the ledge: "Now, my lad, we don't want you any more; you may go up to the cabin till we are ready, and then we will send for you and the lady." "Oh! But I can be of use here," replied I; "and I am of none up there." The mate did not reply, and the men then went to the rum-cask, and rolled it towards the boat; and when they had it on the ledge, they parbuckled it, as they term it, into the boat with a whale-line that they happened to have, and which was of great length. After the cask of rum was got in amidships (and it took up a great deal of space, reaching from one gunwale to the other, and standing high above the thwarts), they went for the breakers of water, which they put in, three before and three behind the cask, upon the floor of the boat. "She will be too heavy," said one of the men, "with so much water." "We can easily get rid of it," replied the mate. "If you had said she would be too heavy with so much liquor on board, you had better explained the matter; however, you must have your own ways, I suppose." The next articles that they brought to stow away were the provisions. The kid of fish was put amidships on the breakers, and the dried bird; which they carried down in their arms, were packed up neatly in the stern-sheets. They were soon up to the gunwale, and the mate said: "You had better stow away forward now--there will be little room for the lady as it is." "No, no, stow them all aft," replied one of the men, in a surly tone; "the lady must sit where she can. She's no better than we." "Shall this go in?" said I, pointing to the coil of whale-line, and addressing the mate. "No, no; we must leave that," replied one of the men in the boat; "we shall be wedged enough as it is; and I say, Jim, throw that old saw and the bag of nails out of the boat--we can have no use for them." The masts were then stepped, and the rigging set up to the gunnel of the boat, the yards and sails handed in, and hooked on the halyards ready for hoisting. In fact the boat was now all ready for starting; they had only the iron kettle and two or three other articles to put in. "Shall we have the mizen?" inquired one of the men, pointing to the mast, which lay on the rocks. "No, she steers quite as well without it," replied the mate. "We'll leave it. And now, lad; hand the oars in." They were brought to the boat, but owing to the puncheon of rum in the centre, they could not lie flat, and after a good deal of arguing and disputing, four oars and a boat-hook were lashed to the gunnel outside, and the rest were left on the rocks. At this time there was some consultation between the mate and some of the men--the mate being evidently opposed by the others. I could not hear what it was about, but the mate appeared very angry and very much annoyed. At last he dashed his hat down on the rocks in a great passion, saying: "No good will come of it. Mark my words. No good ever did or ever will. Be it so, you are too many for me; but I tell you again, no good will come of it." The mate then sat down on the rocks by himself, and put his head down on his knees, covering it with his hands. The man with whom he had been disputing went to the others in the boat, and spoke to them in a low tone, looking round at me, to ascertain if I was within hearing. After a minute or two they all separated, and then one of them said to me--"Now, my lad, we're all ready. Go up to the cabin and bring down your bundle and her basket, and tell the lady we are waiting for her." "There's the shovel," said I, "and the boat's sail--must I bring them down?" "Oh, yes, bring them down, and also two or three seal-skins for the lady to sit upon." Off I went on my errand, for I was delighted with the idea of leaving the island, and my patience had been almost exhausted at the time they had taken in the stowage of the boat. As I hastened up the path, I heard loud contention, and the mate's voice speaking very angrily, and I stopped for a short time to listen, but the noise ceased, and I went on again. I found Nero on the platform, and I stopped a minute to caress him. "Good-bye, my poor Nero, we shall never see one another again," said I. "You must go back to the sea, and catch fish for yourself;" and the tears started in my eyes as I gave the animal a farewell kiss. I then went into the cabin, where I found Mrs Reichardt sitting very quietly. "They are all ready," said I, "and have sent me up for you; but I am to bring down the boat's sail and some seal-skins for you to sit upon. I can carry both if you can carry my bundle. Have you put the belt on?" "Yes," replied she, "I am quite ready. I will carry the bundle, and the books and spy-glass, as well as my basket; but we must pack them close," added she, "and roll the sail up round the yard, or you will not be able to carry it." We took the sail down, and got it ready for carrying, and I rolled up the two best seal-skins, and tied them with a piece of fishing-line, and then we were all ready. I shouldered my burden, and Mrs Reichardt took the other articles, as proposed, and we left the cabin to go down the path to the bathing-pool. "Good-bye, Nero--good-bye, birds--good-bye, cabin--and good-bye, garden," said I, as I went along the platform; and having so done, and ordered Nero back with a tremulous voice, I turned my head in the direction of the bathing-pool. I stared and then screamed, dropping my burden, as I lifted up my hands in amazement-- "Look!" cried I to my companion. "Look!" repeated I, breathless. She did look, and saw as I did--the boat under all sail, half a mile from the pool, staggering under a fresh breeze, which carried her away at the rate of seven or eight miles an hour. They had left us--they had deserted us. I cried out, like a madman, "Stop! Stop! Stop!" and then, seeing how useless it was, I dashed myself on the rock, and for a minute or two was insensible. "Oh!" groaned I, at last, as I came to my senses. "Frank Henniker," said a sweet firm voice. I opened my eyes, and saw Mrs Reichardt standing by me. "It is the will of Heaven, and you must submit to it patiently," continued she. "But so cruel, so treacherous!" replied I, looking at the fast-receding boat. "I grant, most cruel, and most treacherous; but we must leave them to the judgment of God. What can they expect from Him in the way of mercy when they have shown none? I tell you candidly, that I think we are better in our present forlorn state upon this rock, than if in that boat. They have taken with them the seeds of discord, of recklessness, and intemperance, in an attempt which requires the greatest prudence, calmness, and unanimity, and I fear there is little chance of their ever being rescued from their dangerous position. It is my opinion, and I thought so when I first knew they had found the cask, that liquor would prove their ruin, and I say again, that boat will never arrive at its destination, and they will all perish miserably. It has pleased God that they should leave us here, and depend upon it, it has been so decided for the best." "But," replied I, looking again at the boat, "I was tired of being here--I was so anxious to get off--and now to be left! And they have taken all our provisions, everything, even the fish in the pool. We shall starve." "I hope not," replied she, "and I think not; but we must exert ourselves, and trust to Heaven." But I could not heed her--my heart was bursting. I sobbed, as I sat with my hands covering up my face. "All gone;" cried I. "No one left but you and I." "Yes," replied she, "one more." "Who?" cried I, looking up. "God!--who is with us always." CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. I heard what she said, but my head was too confused to weigh the words. I remained silent, where I was. A few seconds elapsed, and she spoke again: "Frank Henniker, rise, and listen to me." "We shall starve," muttered I. As I said this, one of the male birds returned from the sea with a large fish, of which Mrs Reichardt took possession, as she had seen me do, and the gannet flew away again to obtain more. Immediately afterwards, the other two birds returned with fish, which were in the like way secured by my companion. "See how unjust and ungrateful you are," observed she. "Here are the birds feeding us, as the ravens did Elijah in the wilderness, at the very time that you are doubting the goodness and mercy of God. There is a meal for us provided already." "My head! My head!" exclaimed I, "it is bursting, and there is a heavy weight rolling in it--I cannot see anything." And such was the fact: the excitement had brought on a determination of blood to the head, and my senses were rapidly departing. Mrs Reichardt knelt by my side, and perceiving that what I had said was the case, went into the cabin and brought out a cloth, which she wetted with water from the spring, and laid across my forehead and temples. I remained motionless and nearly senseless for half an hour, during which, she continued to apply fresh cold water to the cloth, and by degrees I recovered from my stupor. In the mean time, the weather being so fine and the water smooth, the gannets continued to return with the fish they caught, almost all of which were taken from them by my companion, until she had collected more than a dozen fish, from half a pound to a pound weight, which she put away, so that the birds and seal might not devour them. I was still in a half-dozing state, when the breathing and cold nose of Nero touched my cheek, and the murmurings of my favourite roused me up, and I opened my eyes. "I am better now," said I, to Mrs Reichardt. "How kind you have been." "Yes, you are better; but still, you must remain quiet. Do you think that you could walk to your bed-place?" "I'll try," replied I, and with her assistance I rose up; but, when I afterwards gained my feet, I should have fallen if she had not supported me; but, assisted by her, I gained my bed and sank down again. She raised my head higher, and then applied the linen cloth and cold water as before. "Try now," said she, "if you cannot go to sleep. When you awake again, I will have some dinner ready for you." I thanked her and shut my eyes. Nero crawled to my bed-place, and with my hand upon his head, I fell asleep, and remained so till near sunset, when I awoke with very little pain in my head, and much refreshed. I found Mrs Reichardt by my side. "You are better now," said she. "Can you eat any dinner? I must make friends with Nero, for he has been disputing my right to come near your bedside, and his teeth are rather formidable. However, I gave him the inside of the fish when I cleaned them, and we are better friends already. There is your dinner." Mrs Reichardt placed before me some of the fish, broiled on the embers, and I ate very heartily. "It is very kind of you," said I, "to be working for me, when I ought to be working for you--but you must not do it again." "Only my share of the work when you are well," replied she; "but my share I always shall do. I cannot be idle, and I am strong enough to do a great deal; but we will talk about that to-morrow morning. You will be quite well by that time, I hope." "Oh! I feel well now," replied I, "only I am very weak." "You must put your trust in God, my poor boy. Do you ever pray to Him?" "Yes, I try a little sometimes--but I don't know how. Jackson never taught me that." "Then I will. Shall I pray now for both of us?" "Will God hear you? What was it that you said just before I forgot everything this morning?" "I told you that there was another here besides ourselves, a good and gracious God, who is always with us and always ready to come to our assistance if we call upon Him." "You told me God lived beyond the stars." "My poor boy, as if He were a God who was afar off and did not attend to our prayers! Such is not the case. He is with us always in spirit, listening to all our prayers, and reading every secret thought of our hearts." I was silent for some time, thinking upon what she had told me; at last I said--"Then pray to Him." Mrs Reichardt knelt down and prayed in a clear and fervent voice, without hesitation or stop. She prayed for protection and support in our desolate condition, that we might be supplied with all things needful for our sustenance, and have a happy deliverance from our present position. She prayed that we might be contented and resigned until it should please Him to rescue us--that we might put our whole trust and confidence in Him, and submit without murmuring to whatever might be His will. She prayed for health and strength, for an increase of faith and gratitude towards Him for all His mercies. She thanked him for our having been preserved by being left on the desolate rock, instead of having left it in the boat with the seamen. (This surprised me.) And then she prayed for me, entreating that she might be the humble instrument of leading me to my Heavenly Father, and that He would be pleased to pour down upon me His Holy Spirit, so that I might by faith in Christ, be accepted, and become a child of God and an inheritor of eternal bliss. There was something so novel to me and so beautiful in her fervency of prayer, that the tears came into my eyes, and about a minute after she had finished, I said-- "I now recollect, at least, I think I do--for the memory of it is very confused--that my mother used to kneel down by me and pray just as you have done. Oh, how I wish I had a mother!" "My child," replied she, "promise me that you will be a good and obedient son, and I will be a mother to you." "Will you? Oh! How kind of you. Yes, I will be all you wish; I will work for you day and night if it is necessary. I will do everything, if you will but be my mother." "I will do my duty to you as a mother most strictly," replied she; "so that is agreed upon. Now, you had better go to sleep, if you can." "But I must first ask you a question. Why did you thank God for the seamen having left us here, instead of taking us with them?" "Because the boat was overloaded as it was; because the men, having liquor, would become careless and desperate, and submit to no control; and therefore I think there is little or no chance of their ever arriving anywhere safe, but that they will perish miserably in some way or another. This, I consider, is the probability, unless the Almighty in His mercy, should be pleased to come to their assistance, and allow them to fall in with some vessel soon after their departure." "Do you think, then, that God prevented our going with them on purpose that we might not share their fate?" "I do! God regulates everything. Had it been better for us that we should have gone, He would have permitted it; but He willed it otherwise, and we must bow to His will with a full faith, that He orders everything for the best." "And you say that God will give us all that we ask for in our prayers?" "Yes, if we pray fervently and in faith, and ask it in the name of Jesus Christ; that is, He will grant all we pray for that is good for us, but not what is not good for us; but when we ask anything, we do not know that we are asking what is proper or not--but He does. We may ask what would be hurtful to us, and then, in His love for us, He denies it. For instance, suppose you had been accustomed to pray, you must have prayed God that He would permit you to leave this island in the boat, as you are so anxious to go away; but supposing that boat is lost, as I imagine it will be, surely it would have been a kindness in God, who knew that it would be lost, not to grant your prayer. Is it not so?" "Yes, I see now, thank you; now I will go to sleep--good night." CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. I awoke the next morning quite recovered from my illness of the day before, and was out of the cabin before Mrs Reichardt, who still remained behind the screen which she had put up after I had gone to sleep. It was a beautiful morning, the water was smooth, and merely rippled with a light breeze, and the sun shone bright. I felt well and happy. I lighted a fire to broil the fish for breakfast, as there was a sufficiency left, and then got my fishing-lines ready to catch some larger fish to re-inhabit my pond at the bathing-pool. Mrs Reichardt came out of the cabin and found me playing with Nero. "Good morning, dear mother," said I, for I felt most kindly towards her. "Good morning, my dear boy," replied she. "Are you quite well?" "Quite well; and I have got my lines all ready; for I have been thinking that until the birds come, we must live on fish altogether, and we can only take them in fine weather like this; so we must not lose such a day." "Certainly not. As soon as we have breakfasted, we will go down and fish. I can fish very well, I am used to it. We must both work now; but first go for your Bible, that we may read a little." I did so, and after she had read a chapter, she prayed, and I knelt by her side; then we breakfasted, and as soon as we had breakfasted, we set off to the bathing-pool. "Do you know if they left anything behind them, Frank?" "Yes," replied I, "they left some oars, I believe, and a long line, and we have the shovel and the hammer, and the boat's small sail, up at the cabin." "Well, we shall see very soon," replied she, as we went down the path. When we arrived at the bathing-pool, the first thing that met my eyes made me leap with joy. "Oh! Mother! Mother! They've left the iron pot; I did so long for it; and as I lay awake this morning, I thought that if I prayed for anything, it would be for the iron pot. I was tired of dried birds, and they ate so different when they were boiled up in the pot with potatoes." "I am equally glad, Frank, for I do not like victuals uncooked; but now let us first see what else they have thrown out of the boat." "Why, they have put on shore three of the little casks of water," said I; "they took them all on board." "They have so, I suppose, because the boat was too heavy, and they would not part with the liquor. Foolish men, they will now not have more than six days' water, and will suffer dreadfully." We then looked round the rocks and found that they had left the iron kettle, three breakers, five oars, and a harpoon and staffs; a gang-board, a whale-line of 200 fathoms, an old saw, a bag of broad-headed nails, and two large pieces of sheet-iron. "That saw may be very useful to us," said Mrs Reichardt, "especially as you have files in your chests. Indeed, if we want them, we may convert one half of the saw into knives." "Into knives! How?" "I will show you; and these pieces of sheet-iron I could use again. You see the sheet-iron was put on to repair any hole which might be made in the boat, and they have thrown it out, as well as the hammer and nails. I wonder at John Gough permitting it." "I heard them quarrelling with him as I came out yesterday to fetch you down; they would not mind what he said." "No, or we should not have been left here," replied she; "John Gough was too good a man to have allowed it, if he could have prevented it. That sheet-iron will be very useful. Do you know what for? To broil fish on, or anything else. We must turn up the corners with the hammer. But now we must lose no more time, but fish all day long, and not think of eating till supper-time." Accordingly we threw out our lines, and the fish taking the bait freely, we soon hauled in more than a dozen large fish, which I put into the bathing-pool. "What use can we make of that long line which they have left?" "A good many; but the best use we can make of it, is to turn it into fishing-lines, when we require new ones." "But how can we do that, it is so thick and heavy?" "Yes, but I will show you how to unlay it, and then make it up again. Recollect, Frank, that I have been the wife of a Missionary, and have followed my husband wherever he went; sometimes we have been well off, sometimes as badly off as you and I are now--for a Missionary has to go through great dangers, and great hardships, as you would acknowledge if you ever heard my life, or rather that of my husband." "Won't you tell it to me?" "Yes, perhaps I will, some day or another; but what I wish to point out to you now is, that being his wife, and sharing his danger and privation, I have been often obliged to work hard and to obtain my living as I could. In England, women do little except in the house, but a Missionary's wife is obliged to work with the men, and as a man very often, and therefore learns to do many things of which women in general are ignorant. You understand now?" "Oh yes. I have thought already that you appear to know more than Jackson did." "I should think not; but Jackson was not fond of work I expect, and I am. And now, Frank, you little thought that when you so tardily went to work the other day to plant potatoes for the benefit of any one that might hereafter come to the island, that you were planting for yourself, and would reap the benefit of your own kind act; for if you had not assisted, of course I could not have done it by myself: so true it is, that even in this world you are very often rewarded for a good action." "But are not you always?" "No, my child, you must not expect that; but if not rewarded in this world, you will be rewarded in the next." "I don't understand that." "I suppose that you hardly can, but I will explain all that to you, if God spare my life; but it must be at a more seasonable time." We continued fishing till late in the afternoon, by which time had taken twenty-eight large fish, about seven to nine pounds weight; Mrs Reichardt then proposed that we should leave off, as we had already provision for a fortnight. I hauled out one more fish, which she took with her to cook for our supper, and having coiled up my lines, I then commenced, as she had told me to do, carrying up the articles left by the boat's crew at the bathing-pool. The first thing I seized upon was the coveted iron kettle; I was quite overjoyed at the possession of this article, and I had good reason to be. In my other hand I carried the saw and the bag of nails. As soon as I had deposited them at the cabin, I went down again, and before supper was ready I had brought up everything except the three breakers of water, which I left where they were, as we did not want them for present use, whatever we might hereafter. We were both rather tired, and were glad to go to bed after we had taken our supper. CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. When we met the following morning, my mother, as I shall in future call her, said to me, "This will be a busy day, Frank, for we have a great many arrangements to make in the cabin, so that we may be comfortable. In future the cabin must be kept much more clean and tidy than it is; but that is my business more than yours. Let us get our breakfasts, and then we will begin." "I don't know what you want me to do," replied I; "but I will do it if I can, as soon as you tell me." "My dear boy, a woman requires a portion of the cabin to herself, as it is not the custom for women to live altogether with men. Now, what I wish is, that the hinder part of the cabin, where you used to stow away your dried birds, should be made over to me. We have oars with which we can make a division, and then nail up seal-skins, so that I may have that part of the cabin to myself. Now, do you understand what I want?" "Yes, but the oars are longer than the cabin is wide," observed I. "How shall we manage it?" "We have the old saw, and that will do well enough to cut them off, without its being sharpened." "I never saw one used," replied I, "and I don't understand it." "I will soon show you. First, we must measure the width of the cabin. I shall not take away more than one-third of it." My mother went into the cabin, and I followed her. With a piece of fishing-line, she took the width of the cabin, and then the height up to the rafters for the door-posts. We then went out, and with the saw, which she showed me how to use, and which astonished me very much, when I perceived its effects, the oars were cut up to the proper length. Gimlets I had already from the sea-chest, and nails and hammer we had just obtained from the boat; so that before the forenoon was over, the framework was all ready for nailing on the seal-skins. The bag of broad-headed short nails, which had been thrown on the rocks, were excellent for this purpose, and as I had plenty of skins, the cabin was soon divided off, with a skin between the door-jambs hanging down loose, so that any one might enter. I went inside after it was complete. "But," said I, "you have no light to see what you are about." "Not yet, but I soon will have," replied my mother. "Bring the saw here, Frank. Observe, you must cut through the side of the cabin here, a square hole of this size; three of the planks cut through will be sufficient. Begin here." I did as she directed me, and in the course of half an hour, I had cut out of the south side of the cabin a window about two feet square, which admitted plenty of light. "But won't it make it cold at night?" said I. "We will prevent that," replied she, and she took out a piece of white linen, and with some broad-headed nails, she nailed it up, so as to prevent the air from coming in, although there was still plenty of light. "There," said she, "that is but a coarse job, which I will mend by-and-bye; but it will do for the present." "Well, it is very nice and comfortable now," said I, looking round it. "Now what shall I bring in?" "Nothing for the bed but seal-skins," said she. "I do not like the feathers. The seal-skins are stiff at present, but I think we may be able to soften them by-and-bye. Now, Frank, your chest had better come in here, as it is of no use where it is, and we will make a storeroom of it, to hold all our valuables." "What, the diamonds?" replied I. "My dear boy, we have articles to put into the chest, which, in our present position, are more valuable to us than all the diamonds in the world. Tell me now, yourself, what do you prefer and set most value upon, your belt of diamonds, or the iron kettle?" "The iron kettle, to be sure," replied I. "Exactly so; and there are many things in our possession as valuable as the iron kettle, as you will hereafter acknowledge. Now do you go and get ready some fire for us, and I will finish here by myself Nero keep out, sir--you are never to come into this cabin." I went with Nero for a fish, and when I returned. I determined that I would use the iron kettle. I put it on with water and boiled the fish, and I thought that it ate better than broiled on the embers, which made it too dry. As we sat at our meal, I said, "Dear mother, what are we to do next?" "To-morrow morning we will put the cabin into better order, and put away all our things, instead of leaving them about the platform in this way. Then I will carefully look over all that we have got, and put them away in the chest. I have not yet seen the contents of the chest." The next day it was very cloudy and rough weather, blowing fresh. After breakfast we set to work. We cleared out the floor of the cabin, which was strewed with all manner of things, for Jackson and I had not been very particular. The whale-line was coiled up and put into one corner and everything else was brought in and a place round for it. "We must contrive some shelves," said my mother, "that we may put things on them, or else we never can be tidy; and we have not one except that which holds the books. I think we can manage it. We have, two oars left besides the boat's yard; we will nail them along the side of the cabin, about a foot or more from it, and then we will cut some of the boat's sail, and nail the canvass from the side of the cabin to the oars, and that will make a sort of shelf which will hold our things." I brought in the oars; they were measured and cut off and nailed up. The canvass was then stretched from the side of the cabin to the oar, and nailed with the broad-headed nails, and made two capital shelves on each side of the cabin, running from one end to the other. "There," said my mother, "that is a good job. Now we will examine the chest and put everything away and in its place." My mother took out all the clothes, and folded them up. When she found the roll of duck which was at the bottom, she said-- "I am glad to find this, as I can make a dress for myself much better for this island than this black stuff dress which I now wear, and which I will put by to wear, in case we should be taken off the island some of these days; for I must dress like other people when I am again among them. The clothes are sufficient to last you for a long while; but I shall only alter two shirts and two pair of trousers to your present size, as you will grow very fast. How old do you think you are now?" I replied, "About sixteen years old, or perhaps more." "I should think that was about your age." Having examined and folded up every article of clothing in the chest, the tools, spy-glass, etcetera, were put by me on the shelves, and then we examined the box containing the thread, needles, fish-hooks, and other articles, such as buttons, etcetera. "These are valuable," said she; "I have some of my own to put along with them. Go and fetch my basket; I have not yet had time to look into it since I left the ship." "What is there in it?" "Except brushes and combs, I can hardly say. When I travelled about, I always carried my basket, containing those things most requisite for daily use, and in the basket I put everything that I wished to preserve, till I had an opportunity to put it away. When I embarked on board of the whaler, I brought my basket on my arm as usual; but except opening it for my brushes and combs or scissors, I have not examined it for months." "What are brushes and combs and scissors?" "That I will show you," replied she, opening the lid of the basket. "These are the brushes and combs for cleaning the hair, and these are scissors. Now we will take everything out." The basket did indeed appear to contain a wonderful quantity of things, almost all new to me. There were two brushes, twelve combs, three pair of scissors, a penknife, a little bottle of ink, some pens, a woman's thimble, a piece of wax, a case of needles, thread and silk, a piece of India ink, and a camel's hair brush, sealing-wax, sticking plaster, a box of pills, some tape and bobbin, paper of pins, a magnifying-glass, silver pencil-case, some money in a purse, black shoe-ribbon, and many other articles which I have forgotten. All I know is, that I never was so much interested ever after at any show as I was with the contents of this basket, all of which were explained to me by my mother, as to their uses, and how they were made. There were several little papers at the bottom of the basket, which she said were seeds of plants, which she had collected to take to England with her, and that we would plant them here. As she shook the dust out of the basket after it was empty, two or three white things tumbled out, which she asked me to pick up and give to her. "I don't know how they came here," said she, "but three of them are orange-pips, which we will sow to-morrow, and the other is a pea, but of what kind I know not; we will sow that also--but I fear it will not come up, as it appears to me to be one of the peas served out to the sailors on board ship, and will be too old to grow. We can but try. Now we will put into the chest, with the other things that you have, what we do not want for present use, and then I can drive a nail into the side of my bedroom and hang my basket on it." "But," said I, "this round glass--what is that for?" "Put it on one side," replied she, "and to-morrow, if it is fine, I will show you the use of it; but there are some things we have forgotten, which are your belt and the other articles you gave me to take for you when you thought we were to leave the island. They are in the bed-place opposite to yours." I brought them, and she put away the mate's watch and sleeve-buttons, and the other trinkets, etcetera, saying that she would examine the letters and papers at another time. The belt was examined, counting how many of the squares had stones in them, and then, with her scissors, she cut open one of the squares, and took out a white glittering thing like glass, as it appeared to me, and looked at it carefully. "I am no great judge of these things," said she, "but still I have picked up some little knowledge. This belt, if it contain all stones like this, must be of considerable value; now I must get out my needle and thread and sew it up again." She did, and put the belt away with the other articles in the chest. "And now," said she, "we have done a good day's work, and it is time to have something to eat." CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. I must say that I was much better pleased with the appearance of the cabin, it was so neat and clean to what it had been, and everything was out of the way. The next day was a calm and clear day, and we went down to fish. We were fortunate, and procured almost as many as we had done at the previous fishing--they were all put in the bathing-pool as before. When we went up to the cabin, as soon as the fish was put on the fire, under the direction of my mother, I turned up the sides of one of the pieces of sheet-iron, so as to make a sort of dish. The other piece I did the same to, only not so high at the sides, as one piece was kept for baking the fish on and the other as a dish to put our dinner upon when cooked. That day we had been too busy with fishing to think of anything else, but on the following I recollected the magnifying-glass, and brought it to her. She first showed me the power it had to magnify, with which I was much amused for a time, and she explained as well as she could to me the cause of its having that power: but I could not well understand her: I was more pleased with the effect than cognisant of the cause. Afterwards she sent me to the cabin for some of the dried moss which I used for tinder, and placing the glass so as to concentrate the rays of the sun, to my astonishment I saw the tinder caught fire. It was amazement more than astonishment, and I looked up to see where the fire came from. My mother explained to me, and I, to a certain degree, comprehended; but I was too anxious to have the glass in my own hands and try experiments. I lighted the tinder again--then I burnt my hand--then I singed one of the gannet's heads, and lastly, perceiving that Nero was fast asleep in the sun, I obtained the focus on his cold nose. He started up with a growl, which made me retreat, and I was perfectly satisfied with the result of my experiments. From that time, the fire was, when the sun shone, invariably lighted by the burning-glass, and very useful did I find it. As it was so portable, I always carried it with me, and when I had nothing to do, I magnified, or set fire, according to the humour of the moment. Although I have not mentioned it, not a morning rose, but before breakfast, I read the Scriptures to my mother. "There's so much in that book which I cannot understand," said I, one morning. "I suspect that, living as you have, alone on this island, and having seen nothing of the world," replied my mother, "that there are not many books that you would understand." "But I understand all that is said in the Beast and Bird Book," replied I. "Perhaps you may, or think you do; but, Frank, you must not class the Bible with other books. The other books are the works of man; but the Bible is the word of God. There are many portions of that book which the cleverest men, who have devoted their lives to its study, cannot understand, and which never will be understood as long as this world endures. In many parts the Bible is a sealed book." "But will it never be understood then by anybody?" "There is quite as much of the Bible as is necessary for men to follow its precepts, and this is so clear that anybody may understand it--it contains all that is necessary for salvation; but there are passages, the true meaning of which we cannot explain, and which God, for His own purposes, will not permit us to do. But if we do not know them now, we shall probably hereafter, when we have left this world, and our intellects more nearly approach God's." "Well, I don't understand why we should not understand it." "Frank," replied she, "look at that flower just in bloom. Do you understand how it is that that plant keeps alive--grows every year-- every year throws out a large blue flower? Why should it do so? Why should the flower always be blue? And whence comes that beautiful colour? Can you tell me? You see, you know that it does do so. But can you tell me what makes it do so?" "No." "Look at that bird. You know it is hatched from an egg. How is it that the inside of an egg is changed into bird? How is that the bird is covered with feathers, and has the power to fly? Can you explain to me yourself? You can walk about just as you please--you have the power of reasoning, and thinking, and of acting; but by what means is it that you possess that power? Can you tell? You know that is so, but you know no more. You can't tell why, or how, or what causes produce these effects--can you?" "No." "Well, then, if you are surrounded by all manner of things, living and dead, and see every day things which you cannot explain, or understand, why should you be surprised that, as God has not let you know by what means these effects are produced, that in His written word He should also keep from you that which for good purposes you are not permitted to know. Everything here is by God's will, and that must be sufficient for us. Now do you understand?" "Yes, I see now what you mean, but I never thought about these things before. Tell me some more about the Bible." "Not now. Some day I will give you a history of the Bible, and then you will understand the nature of the book, and why it was written; but not at present. Suppose, as we have nothing particular to do, you tell me all you know about yourself from Jackson, and all that happened while you lived with him. I have heard only part, and I should like to know all." "Very well," replied I. "I will tell you everything, but it will take a long while." "We shall have plenty of time to spare, my dear boy, I fear, before we leave this place; so never mind time--tell me everything." I commenced my narrative, but I was interrupted. "Have you never been able to call your own mother to your memory?" said she. "I think I can now, since I have seen you; but I could not before. I now can recollect a person dressed like you, kneeling down and praying by my side; and I said before, the figure has appeared in my dreams, and much oftener since you have been here." "And your father?" "I have not the slightest remembrance of him, or anybody else except my mother." I then proceeded, and continued my narrative until it was time to go to bed; but as I was very circumstantial, and was often interrupted by questions, I had not told a quarter of what I had to say. CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN. Mrs Reichardt had promised to give me a history of the Bible; and one day, when the weather kept us both at home, she thus commenced her narrative:-- "The Bible is a history of God's doings for the salvation of man. It commences with the fall of man by disobedience, and ends with the sacrifice made for his reinstatement. As by one man, Adam, sin came into the world, so by one man, Jesus Christ, was sin and death overcome. If you will refer to the third chapter of Genesis, at the very commencement of the Bible, you will find that at the same time that Adam receives his punishment, a promise is made by the Lord, that the head of the serpent shall hereafter be bruised. The whole of the Bible, from the very commencement, is an announcement of the coming of Christ; so that as soon as the fault had been committed, the Almighty, in His mercy, had provided a remedy. Nothing is unknown or unforeseen by God. "Recollect, Frank, that the Bible contains the history of God's doings, but it does not often tell is why such things were done. It must be sufficient for us to know that such was the will of God; when He thinks proper, He allows us to understand His ways; but to our limited capacities, most of His doings are inscrutable. But are we to suppose that, because we, in our foolishness, cannot comprehend His reasons, that therefore they must be cavilled at? Do you understand me, Frank?" "Yes," replied I; "I do pretty well." "As I pointed out to you the other day, you see the blade of grass grow, and you see it flower, but how it does so you know not. If then you are surrounded all your life with innumerable things which you see but cannot comprehend--when all nature is a mystery to you--even yourself-- how can you expect to understand the dealings of God in other things? When, therefore, you read the Bible, you must read it with faith." "What is faith? I don't quite understand, mother." "Frank, I have often told you of many things that are in England, where you one day hope to go. Now, if, when you arrive in England, you find that everything that I have told you is quite true, you will be satisfied that I am worthy of belief." "Yes." "Well, suppose some one were to tell you something relative to any other country, which you could not understand, and you came to me and asked me if such were the case, would you, having found that I told you truth with regard to England, believe that what you had been told of this other country was true, if I positively asserted that it was so?" "Of course I should, mother." "Well, then, Frank, that would be faith; a belief in things not only not seen, but which you cannot understand. But, to go on, I mention this because some people are so presumptuous as to ask the why and the wherefore of God's doings, and attempt to argue upon their justice, forgetting that the little reason they have is the gift of God, and that they must be endowed with intellect equal to the Almighty, to enable them to know and perceive that which He decides upon. But if God has not permitted us to understand all his ways, still, wherever we can trace the finger of God, we can always perceive that everything is directed by an all-wise and beneficent hand; and that, although the causes appear simple, the effects produced are extraordinary and wonderful. We shall observe this as we talk over the history of the Jews, in the Bible. But, I repeat, that we must study the whole of the Bible with faith, and not be continually asking ourselves, `Why was this done?' If you will turn to the ninth chapter of the Epistle to the Romans, you will see what the Apostle Paul says on the subject: `Nay but, O man, who art thou that repliest against God?' Shall the thing formed say to him that formed it, `Why hast thou made me thus?' Do you now understand in what spirit the Bible should be read?" "Yes, I do. We must read it as the Word of God, and believe all that we read in it." "Exactly. Now we will proceed. After Adam's fall, the earth became so wicked that God destroyed it, leaving but Noah and his family to re-people it; and as soon as this was done, the Almighty prepared for his original intention for the future salvation of men. He selected Abraham, who was a good man, and who had faith, to be the father of a nation chosen for His own people--that was the Jewish nation. He told him that his seed should multiply as the stars in the heavens, and that all the nations of the earth should be blessed in him; that is, that from his descendants should Christ be born, who should be the salvation of men. Abraham's great grandchildren were brought into Egypt, to live apart in the land of Goshen. You have read the history of Joseph and his brethren?" "Oh yes; I know that well." "Well, the Almighty wished the Jews should be a nation apart from others, and for that purpose he brought them into Egypt. But observe, Frank, by what simple and natural causes this was effected. It was by a dream of Joseph's, which, when he told them of it, irritated his brothers against him; they sold him as a slave, and he was sent into Egypt. There, having explained the dream of Pharaoh, he was made a ruler over Egypt, and saved that country from the famine which was in every other land. His brothers come down to buy corn, and he recognises them. He sends for his father and all the family, and establishes them in the land of Goshen, as shepherds, apart from the Egyptians. Here they multiplied fast; but after Joseph's elevation they were cruelly treated by the Egyptians, who became afraid of their rapid increase, and eventually the kings of Egypt gave orders that all the male children of the Jews should be destroyed. It was at this time, when they were so oppressed and cruelly treated by the Egyptians, that God interfered and sent for Moses. Moses, like all the rest of the Jews, knew nothing of the true God, and was difficult to persuade; and it was only by miracles that he was convinced." "Why did God keep the Jews apart from the Egyptians, and have them thrown in bondage?" "Because he wished to prepare them to become his own peculiar people. By their being descended from Abraham, and having never intermarried with other nations, they had become a pure race; by being in bondage and severely treated, they had suffered and become united as a people. They knew no gods, but those worshipped by the Egyptians, and these gods it was now the intention of the Almighty to confound, and prove to the Jews as worthless. At the same time he worked with his own nation in mystery, for when Moses asked him what God he was to tell his people that He was, the Almighty only replied by these words--`I am:' having no name like all the false gods worshipped by the Egyptians. He was now about to prove, by his wonderful miracles, the difference between himself and the false gods." "What are miracles?" "A miracle is doing that which man has no power of doing, proving that the party who does it is superior to man; for instance--to restore a dead man to life is a miracle, as none but God, or those empowered by God, could do so. Miracles were necessary, therefore, to prove to the Jews that the Almighty was the true God, and were resorted to by Him in this instance, as well as in the coming of Our Saviour, when it was also necessary to prove that he was the Son of God. When the Almighty sent Moses to Pharaoh to demand that the Israelites should have permission to sacrifice in the desert, He purposely hardened the heart of Pharaoh that he might refuse the request." "But why did he so?" "Because he wanted to prove to the Israelites that He was the only true God; and had Pharaoh consented to their going away, there would have been no opportunity of performing those miracles by which the Israelites were to be delivered, and by which they were to acknowledge Him as their God." Mrs Reichardt often renewed this conversation, till I became acquainted with Scriptural History. CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT. The following morning, I went with Nero to take a couple of fish out of the pool. As soon as Nero had caught them, he went into the other part of the bathing-pool to amuse himself, while I cleaned the fish, which I generally did before I went up to the cabin, giving him the heads and insides for his share, if I did not require any portion for the birds. Nero was full of play that morning, and when I threw the heads to him, as he frolicked in the water, he brought them out to the rocks; but instead of eating them, as usual, he laid them at my feet. I threw them in several times, and he continued to bring them out, and my mother, coming down to me, was watching him. "I think," said she, "you must teach Nero to fetch and carry like a dog--try. Instead of the heads, throw in this piece of wood;" which she now broke off the boat-hook staff. I did so, and Nero brought it out, as he had done the heads of the fish. I patted and coaxed the animal, and tried him again several times with success. "Now," said my mother, "you must accustom him to certain words when you send him for anything. Always say, `Fetch it, Nero!' and point with your finger." "Why am I to do that, mother?" I asked. "Because the object to be gained is, not that the animal should fetch out what you throw in, but what you send it to bring out which you have not thrown in. Do you understand?" "Yes," replied I. "You mean, if there were anything floating near on the sea, I should send him for it." "Exactly. Then Nero would be of some use." "I will soon teach him," replied I; "to-morrow I will send him into the sea after the piece of spar. I've no fear that he will go away now." "I was thinking last night, Frank, whether they had taken the pail with them in the boat." "The pail," said I; "I know where it is, but I quite forgot it. We left it up the ravine the last day we planted the potatoes." "We did so, now I recollect. I will go for it while you get the breakfast ready." We had now been for many weeks on a fish diet and I must confess that I was tired of it, which was not the case when I lived upon the dried birds during the whole of the year. Why so I cannot tell; but I was soon to learn to relish fish, if I could obtain them. It was not often that the wind blew direct on the shore, but coming from the northward and eastward, it was in a slanting direction; but occasionally, and chiefly about the time of the equinoxes, the gales came on very heavy from the eastward, and then the wash of the seas upon the rocky coast was tremendous. Such was the case about this time. A fierce gale of wind from the eastward raised a sea which threw the surf and spray high over the loftiest of the rocks, and the violence of the wind bore the spray far inland. The gale had come on in the evening, and my mother and I, when we rose in the morning, were standing on the platform before the cabin, admiring the grandeur of the scene, but without the least idea that it was to be productive of so much misery to ourselves. My mother pointed out to me some passages in the Psalms and Old Testament bearing strongly upon the scene before us; after a time I called Nero, and went down with him to take fish out of the pool for our day's consumption. At that time we had a large supply in the pool--more than ever, I should say. When I arrived at the pool, I found the waves several feet in height rolling in over the ledges, and the pool one mass of foam, the water in it being at least two or three feet higher than usual; still it never occurred to me that there was any mischief done, until I had sent Nero in for the fish, and found that, after floundering and diving for some time, he did not bring out one. My mind misgave me; and I ordered him in again. He remained some time and then returned without a fish, and I was then satisfied that from the rolling in of the waves, and the unusual quantity of the water in the pool, the whole of the fish had escaped, and that we were now without any provisions or means of subsistence, until the weather should settle, and enable us to catch some more. Aghast at the discovery, I ran up to the cabin, and called to my mother, who was in her bedroom. "Oh, mother, all the fish have got out of the pool, and we have nothing to eat. I told you we should be starved." "Take time, Frank, and take breath," replied she, "and then tell me what has happened to cause this alarm and dismay, that you appear to be in." I explained to her what had happened, and that Nero could not find one fish. "I fear that what you say must be correct," replied she; "but we must put our trust in God. It is His will, and whatever He wills must be right." I cannot say I was Christian enough at the time to acknowledge the truth of her reply, and I answered, "If God is as good and as gracious as you say, will He allow us to starve? Does he know that we are starving?" continued I. "Does He know, Frank?" replied my mother. "What does the Bible say-- that not a sparrow falls to the ground without His knowledge; and of how much more worth are you than many sparrows? Shame upon you, Frank!" I was abashed, but not satisfied; I therefore replied quietly, "We have nothing to eat, mother." "Granted that we have lost all our fish, Frank, still we are not yet starving; the weather may moderate to-morrow, and we may catch some more, or even if it should not till the day afterwards, we can bear to be two days without food. Let us hope for the best and put our trust in God--let us pray to Him and ask him for his assistance. He can rebuke these stormy waters--He can always find means of helping those who put confidence in Him, and will send us aid when all hope appears gone. Pray, Frank, as I will do fervently, and believing that your prayer is heard--pray with faith, and your prayer will be answered." "It is not always so," replied I; "you have told me of many people who have died of starvation." "I grant it, and for all-wise purposes they were permitted so to do; but the Almighty had reasons for permitting it, unknown to us, but which you may depend upon it, were good. We cannot fathom His decrees. He may even now decide that such is to be our fate; but if so, depend upon it, Frank, all is right, and what appears to you now as cruel and neglectful of you, would, if the future could be looked into by us, prove to have been an act of mercy." "Do you think, then, that we shall starve?" "I do not--I have too much faith in God's mercy, and I do not think that He would have preserved our lives by preventing the men from taking us into the boat if we were now to starve. God is not inconsistent; and I feel assured that, forlorn as our present position appears to be, and tried as our faith in Him may be, we shall still be preserved, and live to be monuments of his gracious love and kindness." These words of my mother and the implicit confidence which she appeared to have, much revived me. "Well," said I, "I hope you are right, my dear mother; and now I think of it," continued I, brightening up at the idea, "if the worst come to the worst, we can eat the birds; I don't care much for them now, and if I did, you should not starve, mother." "I believe you would not hesitate to sacrifice the birds, Frank; but a greater sacrifice may be demanded of you." "What?" inquired I; and then after a little thought I said, "You don't mean Nero, mother?" "To tell the truth, I did mean Nero, Frank; for the birds will not be a support for more than a day or two." "I never could kill Nero, mother," replied I, gloomily; and walking away into the cabin, I sat down very melancholy at the idea of my favourite being sacrificed; to me it appeared quite horrible, and my mother having referred to it, made her fall very much in my good opinion. Alas! I was indeed young and foolish, and little thought what a change would take place in my feelings. As for the birds, as I really did not care for them, I resolved to kill two of them for our day's meal, and returning to the platform I had laid hold of the two that were there and had seized both by the neck, when my mother asked me what I was going to do. "Kill them, and put them in the pot for our dinner," replied I. "Nay, Frank! You are too hasty. Let us make some little sacrifice, even for the poor birds. We surely can fast one day without very great suffering. To-morrow will be time enough." I dropped the birds from my hand, tacitly consenting to her proposal. It was not, however, for the sake of the birds that I did so, but because one day's respite for the birds would be a day's respite for Nero. "Come," said my mother, "let us go into the cabin and get some work. I will alter some of the clothes for you. What will you do?" "I don't know," replied I, "but I will do whatever you tell me." "Well, then, I perceive that the two fishing-lines are much worn, and they may break very soon, and then we shall be without the means of taking fish, even if the weather is fine; so now we will cut off some of the whale-line, and when it is unravelled, I will show you how to lay it up again into fishing-line; and, perhaps, instead of altering the clothes, I had better help you, as fishing-lines are now of more consequence to us than anything else." This was an arrangement which I gladly consented to. In a short time the whale-line was unravelled, and my mother showed me how to lay it up in three yarns, so as to make a stout fishing-line. She assisted, and the time passed away more rapidly than I had expected it would. "You are very clever, mother," said I. "No, my child, I am not, but I certainly do know many things which women in general are not acquainted with; but the reason of this is, I have lived a life of wandering, and occasional hardships. Often left to our own resources, when my husband and I were among strangers, we found the necessity of learning to do many things for ourselves, which those who have money usually employ others to do for them; but I have been in situations where even money was of no use, and had to trust entirely to myself. I have, therefore, always made it a rule to learn everything that I could; and as I have passed much of my life in sailing over the deep waters, I obtained much useful knowledge from the seamen, and this of laying up fishing-lines is one of the arts which they communicated to me. Now, you see, I reap the advantage of it." "Yes," replied I; "and so do I. How lucky it was that you came to this island." "Lucky for me, do you mean, Frank?" "No, mother! I mean how lucky for me." "I trust that I have been sent here to be useful, Frank, and with that feeling I cheerfully submit to the will of God. He has sent me that I may be useful to you, I do not doubt; and if by my means you are drawn towards Him, and, eventually, become one of His children, I shall have fulfilled my mission." "I do not understand you quite, mother." "No, you cannot as yet; but everything in season," replied she, slowly musing. "`First the blade, then the ear, and then the full corn in the ear.'" "Mother," said I, "I should like to hear the whole story of your life. You know I have told you all that I know about myself. Now, suppose you tell me your history, and that of your husband. You did say that perhaps one day you would. Do you recollect?" "Yes, I do recollect that I did make a sort of promise, Frank, and I promise you now that some day I will fulfil it; but I am not sure that you will understand or profit by the history now, so much as you may by-and-bye." "Well, but mother, you can tell me the story twice, and I shall be glad to hear it again; so tell it to me now, to amuse me, and by-and-bye, that I may profit by it." My mother smiled, which she very seldom did, and said-- "Well, Frank, as I know you would at any time give up your dinner to listen to a story, and as you will have no dinner to-day, I think it is but fair that I should consent to your wish. Who shall I begin with-- with my husband or with myself?" "Pray begin with your own history," replied I. CHAPTER TWENTY NINE. "I am the daughter of a parish clerk in a small market-town near the southern coast of England, within a few miles of a large seaport." "What is a parish clerk?" I asked, interrupting my mother at the commencement of her promised narrative. "A parish clerk," she replied, "is a man who is employed in the parish or place to which he belongs, to fulfil certain humble duties in connection with the church or place of worship where the people meet together to worship God." "What does he do there?" I inquired. "He gives out the psalms that are to be sung, leads the congregation in making their responses to the minister appointed to perform the services of the church; has the custody of the registry of births, deaths, and burials of the inhabitants, and the care of the church monuments, and of other property belonging to the building. In some places he also fulfils the duties of bell-ringer and grave-digger; that is to say, by ringing a large bell at the top of the church, he summons the people to their devotions, during their lives, and digs a hole in consecrated ground, surrounding the sacred building, to receive their bodies when dead." I mused on this strange combination of offices, and entertained a notion of the importance of such a functionary, which I afterwards found was completely at variance with the real state of the case. "My father," she resumed, "not only fulfilled all these duties, but contrived to perform the functions of schoolmaster to the parish children." "What are parish children?" I asked eagerly. "I know what children are, as Jackson represented to me that I was the child of my father and mother--but what makes children parish children?" "They are the children of the poor," Mrs Reichardt replied, "who, not being able to afford them instruction, willingly allow them to be taught at the expense of the people of the parish generally." I thought this a praiseworthy arrangement. I knew nothing of poor's-rates, and the system of giving relief to the poor of the parish, so long used in England, afterwards explained to me; but the kindness and wisdom of this plan of instruction became evident to my understanding. I was proceeding to ask other questions, when my mother stopped them by saying, that if I expected her to get through her story, I must let her proceed without further interruption; for many things would be mentioned by her, which demanded explanation, for one so completely unaware of their existence as myself, and that it would be impossible to make me thoroughly acquainted with such things within any reasonable time; the proper explanations she promised should follow. She then proceeded. "My father, it may be thought, had enough on his hands; but in an obscure country town, it is not unusual for one man to unite the occupations of several, and this was particularly the case with my father, who, in addition to the offices I have enumerated, was the best cattle-doctor and bone-setter within ten miles, and often earned his bread at different kinds of farmer's work; such as thatching, hedging, ditching, and the like. Nevertheless, he found time to read his Bible, and bring up his only daughter religiously. This daughter was myself." "What had become of your mother?" I asked, as I thought it strange Mrs Reichardt should only mention one parent. "She had died very soon after my birth," she answered, "and I was left at first to the care of a poor woman, who nursed me; as soon, however, as I could run about, and had exhibited some signs of intelligence, my father began to get so partial to me, that he very reluctantly allowed me to go out of his sight. He took great pains in teaching me what he knew; and though the extent of his acquirements was by no means great, it was sufficient to lay a good foundation, and establish a desire for more comprehensive information, which I sought every available means to obtain. "I remember that at a very early age, I exhibited an extraordinary curiosity for a child, constantly asking questions, not only of my father, but of all his friends and visitors; and, as they seemed to consider me a quick and lively child, they took pleasure in satisfying my inquisitive spirit. In this way I gained a great deal of knowledge, and, by observation of what passed around me, a great deal more. "It soon became a source of pride and gratification with my father, to ask me to read the Bible to him. This naturally led to a good many inquiries on my part, and numerous explanations on his. In course of time, I became familiar with all the sacred writings, and knew their spirit and meaning much better than many persons who were more than double my age. "My fondness for such studies, and consequent reputation, attracted the attention of Dr Brightwell, the clergyman of our parish, who had the kindness to let me share the instructions of his children, and still further advanced my education, and still more increased my natural predilection for religious information. By the time I was thirteen, I became quite a prodigy in Christian learning, and was often sent for to the parsonage, to astonish the great people of the neighbourhood, by the facility with which I answered the most puzzling questions that were put to me, respecting the great mysteries of Christianity." CHAPTER THIRTY. "It was about this time that I first became acquainted with an orphan boy, an inmate of the workhouse, who had been left to the care of the parish, by the sudden death of his parents, a German clockmaker and his wife, from a malignant fever which had visited the neighbourhood, and taken off a considerable portion of the labouring population. I had been sent on errands from my father to the master of the workhouse, a severe, sullen man, of whom I had a great dread, and I noticed this child, in consequence of his pale and melancholy countenance, and apparently miserable condition. I observed that no one took any notice of him; and that he was allowed to wander about the great straggling workhouse, among the insane, the idiotic, and the imbecile, without the slightest attention being paid to his going and coming; in short, he lived the wretched life of a workhouse boy. "I see that you are eager to ask what is a workhouse boy," said my mother, "so I will anticipate your question. There is, in the various parishes of the country to which we both belong, a building expressly set apart for the accommodation and support of the destitute and disabled poor. It usually contains inmates of all ages, from the infant just born to the very aged, whose infirmities show them to be on the verge of the grave. They are all known to be in a state of helpless poverty, and quite unable to earn a subsistence for themselves. In this building they are clothed and fed; the younger provided with instruction necessary to put them in the way of earning a livelihood; the elders of the community enjoying the consolations of religion, accorded to them by the regular visits of the chaplain." "I suppose," I here observed, "that the people who lived there were deeply impressed with their good fortune in finding such an asylum?" "As far as I could ever ascertain," Mrs Reichardt replied, "it was exactly the reverse. It was always thought so degrading to enter a workhouse, that the industrious labourer would endure any and every privation rather than live there. An honest hard-working man must be sorely driven indeed, to seek such a shelter in his distress." "That seems strange," I observed. "Why should he object to receive what he so much stands in need of?" "When he thus comes upon the funds of the parish," answered my mother, "he becomes what is called a pauper, and among the English peasantry of the better sort, there is the greatest possible aversion to be ranked with this degraded class. Consequently, the inmates of the workhouses are either those whose infirmities prevent their earning a subsistence, or the idle and the dissolute, who feel none of the honest prejudices of self-dependence, and care only to live from day to day on the coarse and meagre fare afforded them by the charity of their wealthier and more industrious fellow-creatures. "The case of this poor boy I thought very pitiable. I found out that his name was Heinrich Reichardt. He could speak no language but his own and therefore his wants remained unknown, and his feelings unregarded. He had been brought up with a certain sense of comfort and decency, which was cruelly outraged by the position in which he found himself placed by the sudden death of his parents. I observed that he was often in tears; and his fair features and light hair contrasted remarkably with the squalid faces and matted locks of his companions. His wretchedness never failed to make a deep impression on me. "I brought him little presents, and strove to express my sympathy for his sufferings. He seemed, at first, more surprised than grateful; but I shortly discovered that my attentions gave him unusual pleasure, and he looked upon my visits as his only solace and gratification. "Even at this period, I exercised considerable influence over my father, and I managed to interest him in the case of the poor foreign boy to such an extent, that he was induced to take him out of the workhouse, and find him a home under his own roof. He was at first reluctant to burthen himself with the bringing up of a child, who, from his foreign language and habits, could be of little use to him in his avocations; but I promised to teach him English, and all other learning of which he stood most in need, and assured my father, that in a prodigious short time I would make him a much abler assistant than he was likely to find among the boys of the town. "My father's desire to please me, rather than any faith he reposed in my assertions, led him to allow me to do as I pleased in this affair. I lost no time, therefore, in beginning my course of instruction, and in a few weeks ascertained that I had an apt pupil, who was determined to proceed with his education as fast as circumstances would admit. We were soon able to express our ideas to each other, and in a few months read together the book out of which I had received so many invaluable lessons. "In a short time I became not less proud of, than partial to, my pupil. I took him through the same studies which I had pursued under the auspices of our clergyman, and was secretly pleased to find, not only that he was singularly quick in imbibing my instructions, but displayed a strong natural taste for those investigations towards which I had shown so marked a bias. "Day after day have we sat together discoursing of the great events recorded in Holy Writ: going over every chapter of its marvellous records, page by page, till the whole were so firmly fixed upon our minds, that we had no necessity during our conversations for referring to the Sacred Book. We found examples we held up to ourselves for imitation;--we found incidents we regarded as promises of Divine Protection; we found consolation and comfort, as well as exhortation and advice; and, moreover, we found a sort of instruction that led us to select for ourselves duties that apparently tended to bring us nearer to the Great Being, whose goodness we had so diligently studied. "My father seemed as much pleased with my successful teaching, as he had been with my successful learning; and when young Reichardt turned out a remarkably handy and intelligent lad, to whose assistance in some of his avocations he could have recourse with perfect confidence in his cleverness and discretion, he grew extremely partial to him. Dr Brightwell also proved his friend, and in a few years, the condition of the friendless workhouse boy was so changed, he could not have been taken for the same person. "He was a boy of a very grateful spirit, and always regarded me with the devotion of a most thankful heart. Often would he contrast the wretchedness of his previous condition with the happiness he now enjoyed, and express in the warmest terms his obligations to me for the important service I had rendered him in rescuing him from the abject misery of the workhouse. Under these circumstances, it is not extraordinary that we should learn to regard each other with the liveliest feelings of affection, and while we were still children,-- endured all the transports and torments which make up the existence of more experienced lovers." "I do not like interrupting you," I here observed, "but I certainly should like to know what is meant by the word lovers?" "I can scarcely explain it to you satisfactorily at present," said Mrs Reichardt, with a smile; "but I have no doubt, before many years have passed over your head--always provided that you escape from this island--you will understand it without requiring any explanation. But I must now leave my story, as many things of much consequence to our future welfare now demand my careful attention." I could not then ascertain from her what was meant by the word whose meaning I had asked. It had very much excited my curiosity; but she left me to attend to her domestic duties, of which she was extremely regardful, and I had no opportunity at that time of eliciting from her the explanation I desired. CHAPTER THIRTY ONE. It is impossible for me to overrate the value of Mrs Reichardt's assistance. Indeed had it not been for her, circumstanced as I was at this particular period, I should in all probability have perished. Her exhortations saved me from despair, when our position seemed to have grown quite desperate. But example did more, even, than precept. Her ingenuity in devising expedients; her activity in putting them in force; her unfailing cheerfulness under disappointment, and Christian resignation under privation, produced the best results. I was enabled to bear up against the ill effects of our crippled resources, consequent upon the ill conduct of the sailors of the whaler, and the failure of our fish-pond. She manufactured strong lines for deep-sea fishing, and having discovered a shelf of rock, little more than two feet above the sea, to which with a good deal of difficulty I could descend, I took my stand one day on the rock with my lines baited with a piece of one of my feathered favourites, whom dire necessity had at last forced me to destroy. I waited with all the patience of a veteran angler. I knew the water to be very deep, and it lay in a sheltered nook or corner of the rocks about ten feet across; I allowed the line to drop some three or four yards, and not having any float, could only tell I had a bite by feeling a pull at the line, which was wound round my arm. After some time having been passed in this way, my attention was withdrawn from the line, and given to the narrative I had so lately heard; that is to say, though my eyes were still fixed upon the line, I had completely given up my thoughts to the story of the poor German boy, who had been snatched from poverty by the interference of the parish clerk's daughter; and I contrived to speculate on what I should have done under such circumstances, imagining all sorts of extravagances in which I should have indulged, to testify my gratitude to so amiable and benevolent a friend. A singular course of ideal scenes followed each other in quick succession in my mind--as I fancied myself the hero of a similar adventure. I regarded my imaginary benefactress with feelings of such intensity as I had never before experienced; and it seemed that I was to her the exciting object of sentiments of a like nature, the knowledge of which awoke in our hearts the most agreeable sensations. I was rudely disturbed out of this day-dream by finding myself suddenly plunged into the deep water beneath me. The shock was so startling, that some seconds elapsed before I could comprehend my situation; and then it became clear that I must have hooked a fish, that had not only succeeded in pulling me off my balance, but the line by which he was held being round my arm, cutting painfully into the flesh, threatened drowning by keeping me under water. With great difficulty I managed to rise to the surface, and loosened the windings of the line from my limb; then, anxious to retain possession of what from its force must have been a fish well worth some trouble in catching, I held on with both hands, and pulled with all my strength. At first, by main force I was drawn through the water; then, when I found the strain slacken, I drew in the line. This manoeuvre was repeated several times, till I succeeded in obtaining a view of what I had caught; or, more properly speaking, of what had caught me. It was merely a glimpse; for the fish, which was a very large one, getting a sight of me within a few yards of him, made some desperate plunges, and again darted off, dragging me along with him, sometimes under the water, and sometimes on the surface. His body was nearly round, and about seven or eight feet long--rather a formidable antagonist for close quarters; nevertheless, I was most eager to get at him, the more so, when I ascertained that his resistance was evidently decreasing. I continued to approach, and at last got near enough to plunge my knife up to the haft in his head, which at once put an end to the struggle. But now another difficulty presented itself. In the ardour of the chase I had been drawn nearly a mile from the island, and I found it impossible to carry back the produce of my sport, exhausted as I was by the efforts I had made in capturing him. I knew I could not swim with such a burthen for the most inconsiderable portion of the distance. My fish therefore must be abandoned. Here was a bountiful supply of food, as soon as placed within reach, rendered totally unavailable. I thought of Mrs Reichardt. I thought how gratified she would have been, could I have brought to her such an excellent addition to our scanty stock of food. Then I thought of her steadfast reliance upon Providence, and what valuable lessons of piety and wisdom she would read me, if she found me depressed by my disappointment. CHAPTER THIRTY TWO. As soon as I could disconnect my tackle from the dead fish, I turned my face homewards, and struck out manfully for the shore; luckily I did not observe any sharks. I landed safely without further adventure, and immediately sought my kind friend and companion, whom I found, as usual, industriously employed in endeavouring to secure me additional comforts. If she were not engaged in ordinary woman's work,--making, mending, cleaning, or improving, in our habitation, she was sure to be found doing something in the immediate neighbourhood, which, though less feminine, showed no less forethought, prudence, and sagacity. Our garden had prospered wonderfully under her hands. The ground seemed now stocked with various kinds of vegetation, of which I neither knew the value nor the proper mode of cultivation; and we seemed about to be surrounded with shrubs and plants--many of very pleasing appearance-- that must in a short time entirely change the aspect of the place. She heard my adventure with a good deal of interest, only remonstrating with me upon my want of caution, and dwelling upon the fatal consequences that must have ensued to herself, had I been drowned or disabled by falling from the rock, or devoured by the sharks. "You may consider yourself, my dear son," she observed, with serious earnestness, "to have been under the Divine care. Nothing can be clearer than that a wise and kind Providence is continually watching over His creatures when placed in unusual or perilous circumstances. He occasionally affords them manifestations of His favour, to encourage them when engaged in good works. This shows the comprehensive eye of the master of many workmen, who overlooks the labours of his more industrious servants, and indicates to them his regard for their welfare and appreciation of their labours." "But surely," I interposed, "if I had been under the superintendence of the Providence of which you speak, I should not have been obliged to abandon so capital a fish, when I had endured such trouble to capture it, and when its possession was so necessary to our comfort, nay, even to our existence." "The very abandonment of so unwieldy a creature," she replied, "is unanswerable evidence of a Divine interposition in your favour; for had you persisted in your intention of carrying it to the shore, there is but little doubt that its weight would have overpowered you, and that you would have been drowned; and then what would have become of me? A woman left in this desolate spot to her own resources, must soon be forced to give up the struggle for existence, from want of physical strength. Nevertheless, there are numerous instances on record, of women having surmounted hardships which few men could endure. Supported by our Heavenly Father, who is so powerful a protector of the weak, and friend of the helpless, the weakest of our weak sex may triumph over the most intolerable sufferings. I, however, am not over confident of being so supported, and therefore, I think it would be but showing a proper consideration for your fellow exile, to act in every emergency with as much circumspection and prudence as possible." I promised that for the future I would run no such risks, and added many professions of regard for her safety. They had the desired effect; I pretended to think no more of my disappointment, nevertheless, I found myself constantly dwelling on the size of my lost fish, and lamenting my being obliged to abandon him to his more voracious brethren of the deep. These thoughts so filled my mind, that at night I continued to dream over again the whole incident, beginning with my patient angling from the rock, and concluding with my disconsolate swim to shore--and pursued my scaly antagonist quite as determinedly in my sleep as I had done in the deep waters. I rose early, after having passed so disturbed a night, and soon made my way to the usual haunt of Nero, whom I discovered in the sea near the rocks making all sorts of strange tumblings and divings, apparently after some dark object that was floating in the water. I called him away, to examine what it was that had so attracted his attention, and my surprise may be imagined when I made out the huge form of my enemy of the preceding day. My shouts and exclamations of joy soon brought Mrs Reichardt to the scene, and when she discovered the shape of this prodigious fish, her surprise seemed scarcely less than my own. How to land him was our first consideration; and after some debate on the ways and means, I got a rope and leaped into the water with it, fastened a noose round his gills, and then swimming back and climbing the rock, we jointly tried to pull him up on to the shore. We hauled and tugged with all our force for a considerable time, but to very little effect; he was too heavy to pull up perpendicularly. At last we managed to drag him to a low piece of rock, and there I divided him into several pieces, which Mrs Reichardt carried away to dry and preserve in some way that she said would make the fish capital eating all the year round. It was very palatable when dressed by her, and as she changed the manner of cooking several times, I never got tired of it. By its flavour, as far as I could judge from subsequent knowledge, the creature was something of the sturgeon kind of fish; but its proper name I never could learn; nor was I ever able to catch another, therefore, I must presume that it was a stranger in those seas. Nevertheless, he proved most acceptable to us both, for we should have fared but ill for some time, had it not been for his providential capture. It was one afternoon, when we had been enjoying a capital meal at the expense of our great friend, that I led the subject to Mrs Reichardt's adventures, subsequently to where she broke off in the story of herself and the poor German boy; and though not without considerable reluctance, I induced her to proceed with her narrative. CHAPTER THIRTY THREE. "Our good minister Dr Brightwell," she commenced, "was a man of considerable scholastic attainments, and he delighted in making a display of them. At one time he had been master of an extensive grammar school, and now he employed a good deal of his leisure in teaching those boys and girls of the town, who indicated the possession of anything like talent. The overseers used to talk jestingly to my father, of the Doctor teaching ploughboys Greek and Latin; and wenches, whose chief employment was stone-picking in the fields, geography and the use of the globes. Even the churchwardens shook their heads, and privately thought the Rector a little out of his seven senses, for wasting his learning upon such unprofitable scholars. Nevertheless, he continued his self-imposed task, without meeting any reward beyond the satisfaction of his own conscience. It was not till he added to his pupils myself and young Reichardt, he felt he was doing his duty with some prospect of advantage. "The spirit of emulation roused both of us to make extraordinary efforts to second our worthy master's endeavours: and this did not, as is usually the case, proceed from rivalry--it arose entirely from a desire of the one to stand well in the estimation of the other. In this way we learned the French and Latin languages, geography, and the usual branches of a superior education: but our bias was more particularly for religions knowledge, and our preceptor encouraged this, till we were almost as good theologians as himself. "While this information was being carefully arranged and digested, there sprung up in our hearts so deep a devotion for each other, that we were miserable when absent, and enjoyed no gratification so much as being in each other's society. We knew not then the full power and meaning of this preference, but as we changed from boy and girlhood to adult life, our feelings developed themselves into that attachment between the sexes, which from time immemorial has received the name of love." "I think I know what that means, now," said I, as my day-dream, which was so rudely disturbed by my fall into the sea, occurred to me. "It would be strange if you did," she replied, "considering that it is quite impossible you should have become acquainted with it." "Yes, I am certain I understand it very well," I rejoined, more confidently, and then added, not without some embarrassment, "If I were placed in the position of Heinrich Reichardt, I am quite sure I should feel towards any young female who was so kind to me, the deepest regard and affection. I should like to be constantly near her, and should always desire that she should like me better than any one else." "That is quite as good an explanation of the matter, as I could expect from you," she observed, smiling. "But to return to my story. Our mutual attachment attracted general attention, and was the subject of much observation. But we had no enemies: and when we were met strolling together in the shady lanes, gathering wild flowers, or wandering through the woods in search of wild strawberries, no one thought it necessary to make any remark if we had our arms round each other's waist. My father, if he heard anything about it, did not interfere. Young Reichardt had made himself so useful to him, and showed himself so remarkably clever in everything he undertook, that the old man loved him as his own son. "It was a settled thing between us, that we were to become man and wife, as soon as we should be permitted. And many were our plans and schemes for the future. Heinrich considered himself to be in the position of Jacob, who served such a long and patient apprenticeship for Rachel; and though he confessed he should not like to wait so long for his wife as the patriarch had been made to do, he acknowledged he would rather serve my father to the full period, than give up all hope of possessing me. "This happy state of things was, however, suddenly put an end to, by Dr Brightwell one day sending for my father. It was a long time before he came back, and when he did, he looked unusually grave and reserved. In an hour or so, he communicated to me the result of his long interview with the Rector. The Doctor had resolved to send young Reichardt to a distant place, where many learned men lived together in colleges, for the purpose of farther advancing his education, and fitting him for a religious teacher, to which vocation he had long expressed a desire to devote himself. The idea of separation seemed very terrible, but I at last got reconciled to it, in the belief that it would be greatly for Heinrich's advantage, and we parted at last with many tears, many protestations, some fears, but a great many more hopes. "For some days after he had left me, everything seemed so strange, every one seemed so dull, every place seemed so desolate, that I felt as if I had been transported into some dismal scene, where I knew no one, and where there was no one likely to care about me in the slightest degree. My father went about his avocations in a different spirit to what he had so long been used to exhibit; it was evident he missed Heinrich as much as I did, and the villagers stared whenever I passed them, as though my ever going about without Heinrich was something which they had never anticipated. "In course of time, however, to all appearance, everything and every one went on in their daily course, as though no Heinrich had ever been heard of. My father would sometimes, when overpressed by business, refer to the able assistant he had lost, and now and then I heard a conjecture hazarded by some one or other of his most confidential friends, as to what young Reichardt was doing with himself. My conjectures, and my references to him, were far from being so occasional; there was scarce an hour of the day I did not think of him; but, believing that I should please him most by endeavouring to improve as much as possible during his absence, I did not give myself up to idle reflections respecting the past, or anticipations, equally idle, respecting the future. "My great delight was in hearing from him. At first, his letters expressed only his feelings for me; then he dwelt more largely on his own exertions for preparing himself for the profession he desired to adopt; and after a time, his correspondence was almost entirely composed of expositions of his views of a religious life, and dissertations on various points of doctrine. He evidently was growing more enthusiastic in religion, and less regardful of our attachment. "Yet I entertained no apprehensions or misgivings. I did not think it necessary to consider myself slighted because the thoughts of my future husband were evidently raised more and more above me; the knowledge of this only made me more anxious to raise myself more and more towards the elevation to which his thoughts were so intently directed. "Things went on in this way for two or three years. I never saw him all this time; I heard from him but seldom. He excused his limited correspondence on the plea that his studies left him no time for writing. I never blamed him for this apparent neglect--indeed I rather encouraged it, for my exhortations were always that he should address his time and energies towards the attainment of the object I knew him to have so much at heart--his becoming a minister of our Lord's Gospel. "One day my father came home from the rectory with a troubled countenance. Dr Brightwell was very indignant because Heinrich had joined a religious community that dissented from the Articles of the Church of England. The Doctor had offered to get him employment in the Church, if he would give up his new connections: but the more earnest character of his new faith exerted so much influence over his enthusiastic nature, that he willingly abandoned his bright prospects to become a more humble labourer in a less productive vineyard. "My father, as the clerk of the parish, seemed to think himself bound to share in the indignation of his pastor for this desertion, and Heinrich was severely condemned by him for displaying such ingratitude to his benefactor: I was commanded to think no more of him. "This, however, was not so easy a matter, although our correspondence appeared to have entirely ceased. I knew not where to address a letter to him, and was quite unaware of what his future career was now to be." CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR. "Time passed on. With all, except myself, Heinrich Reichardt appeared to be forgotten; in the opinion of all, except myself, he had forgotten our house, and all the friends he had once made there. Our good rector had been removed by death from the post he had so ably filled; and my father being incapacitated by age and infirmity from attending his duties in the church, had his place filled by another. He had saved sufficient to live upon, and had built himself a small cottage at the end of the village, where we lived together in perfect peace, if not in perfect happiness. "I had long grown up to womanhood, and having some abilities, had been employed as one of the teachers of the girls' school, of which I had raised myself to be mistress. I conducted myself so as to win the respect of the chief parochial officers, from more than one of whom I received proposals of marriage: but I never could reconcile myself to the idea of becoming the wife of any man but the long-absent Heinrich, and the new clerk and the overseer were fain to be content with my grateful rejection of their proposals. "I determined to wait patiently till I could learn from Heinrich's own lips that he had abandoned his early friend. I could never get myself to believe in the possibility of his unfaithfulness; and the remembrances of our mutual studies in the Book of Truth seemed always to suggest the impossibility of his acting so completely at variance with the impressions he had thence received. "I was aware that if I had mentioned my hopes of his one day coming to claim me, I should be laughed at by every one who knew anything of our story--so I said nothing, but continued the more devotedly in my heart to cherish that faith which had so long afforded me support against the overwhelming evidence of prolonged silence and neglect. "There was a congregation of Dissenters in the town, and I had been once or twice prevailed on to join their devotions. One day I heard that proceedings of extraordinary interest would take place at the meeting-house. A minister of great reputation had accepted the situation of Missionary to preach the Gospel to the heathen, and he was visiting the different congregations that lay in his route to the seaport whence he was to embark to the Sandwich Islands. He was expected to address a discourse to the Dissenters of our parish, and I was induced to go and hear him. "The meeting-house was very much crowded, but I contrived to get a seat within a short distance of the speakers, and waited with much interest to behold the man, who, like some of the first preachers, had chosen the perilous task of endeavouring to convert a nation of savage idolaters to the faith of the true Christ. "After a short delay he appeared on a raised platform, and was introduced to this congregation by their minister. I heard nothing of this introduction, though it seemed a long one; I saw nothing of the speaker, though his was a figure which always attracted an attentive audience. I saw only the stranger. In those pale, grave, and serious features then presented to me, I recognised Heinrich Reichardt." "He had come back to you at last," I exclaimed; "I thought he would. After all you had done for the poor German boy, it was impossible that he should grow up to manhood and forget you." "You shall hear," she replied. "For some time my heart beat wildly, and I thought I should be obliged to leave the place, my sensations became so overpowering; but the fear of disturbing the congregation, and of attracting attention towards myself, had such influence over me, that I managed to retain sufficient control over my feelings to remain quiet. Nevertheless my eyes were upon Heinrich, and my whole heart and soul were exclusively engrossed by him while he continued before me. "Presently he began to speak. As I have just said, I paid no attention to the preliminary proceedings. I know nothing of the manner in which he was introduced to his audience; but when he became the speaker, every word fell upon my ear with a distinctness that seemed quite marvellous to me. "And how could it be otherwise? His tall figure, his melancholy yet expressive features, his earnest manner, and clear and sonorous voice, invested him with all the power and dignity of an Apostle, and when with these attributes were joined those associations of the past with which he was so intimately connected, it is impossible to exaggerate the influence he exercised over me. "He began with a fervent blessing on all who had sought the sanctity of that roof, and his hearers, impressed with the thrilling earnestness of his delivery, became at once hushed into a kind of awe-struck attention. They knelt down, and bowed their heads in prayer. "I appeared to have no power to follow the general example, but remained the only sitter in the entire congregation, with my eyes, nay, all my senses, fixed, riveted upon the preacher. This, of course, attracted his attention. I saw him look towards me with surprise, then he started, his voice hesitated for a moment, but he almost immediately continued his benediction, and, as it seemed to me, with a voice tremulous with emotion. "Then followed a discourse on the object of the preacher in presenting himself there. He described the wonderful goodness of the Creator in continually raising up the most humble instruments of His will to perform the most important offices; in illustration of which he referred to the numerous instances in the Old and New Testaments, where God's preference in this way is so clearly manifested. "He then stated that a case had arisen for Divine interposition, equal in necessity to any which had occurred since the first commencement of Christianity. He explained that there were nations still existing in a distant portion of the globe in a state of the wildest barbarism. Ignorant savages were they, with many cruel and idolatrous customs, who were cannibals and murderers, and given up to the worst vices of the heathen. Their abject and pitiable state, he told us, the Lord God had witnessed with Divine commiseration, and had determined that the light of Christian love should shine upon their darkness, and that Almighty wisdom should dissipate their besotted ignorance. "`But who,' he asked, `was to be the ambassador from so stupendous a Power to these barbarous states? Who would venture to be a messenger of peace and comfort to a cruel and savage nation? Was there no man,' he again asked, `great enough and bold enough to undertake a mission of such vast importance, attended by such terrible risks? "`The Almighty Ruler seeks not for his ministers among the great and bold,' he added, `as it is written, "He hath put down the mighty from their seats, and hath exalted the humble and meek." And it will be peculiarly so on this occasion, for the exaltation is from the humblest origin; so humble it is scarcely possible to imagine so miserable a beginning, in the end attaining distinction so honourable. "`Imagine, if you can, my brethren,' he said, `in the building set apart in your town for the reception of your destitute poor, a child parentless, friendless, and moneyless, condemned, as it seemed, to perpetual raggedness and intolerable suffering. A ministering angel, under the direction of the Supreme Goodness, took that child by the hand and led it out of the pauper walls that inclosed it, and under its auspices the child grew and flourished, and learned all that was excellent in faith and admirable in practice. "`It was ordained that he should lose sight of his angelic teacher. A dire necessity compelled him to withdraw from that pure and gracious influence. He had to learn in a different school, and prepare himself for heavier tasks. Manhood, with all its severe responsibilities, came upon him. He sought first to render himself competent for some holy undertaking, before he could consider himself worthy again to claim that notice which had made him what he was. Earnestly he strove for the Divine assistance and encouragement; and as his qualifications increased, his estimate of the worthiness necessary for the object he had in view, became more and more exalted. "`At last,' he continued, `it became known to him that a Missionary was required to explain to the savage people to whom I have already alluded, the principles of Christianity. He was appointed to this sacred trust; and he then determined, before he left this country for the distant one of his ministry, to present himself before that beneficent being who had poured out before him so abundant a measure of Christian virtue; that they might be joined together in the same great vocation, and support each other in the same important trust.' "I heard enough," continued Mrs Reichardt. "All was explained, and I was fully satisfied. The discourse proceeded to identify the speaker with the poor boy who had been preserved for such onerous duties. Then came an appeal to the congregation for their prayers, and such assistance as they could afford, to advance so holy a work as the conversion of the heathen. "I was in such a tumult of pleasant feelings, that I retained but a confused recollection of the subsequent events. I only remember that as I was walking home from the meeting, I heard footsteps quickly following; in a few minutes more the voice that had so lately filled my heart to overflowing with happiness, again addressed me. I was too much excited to remain unconcerned on suddenly discovering that Heinrich was so near, and I fell fainting into his arms. "I was carried into a neighbouring cottage, but in a short time was enabled to proceed home. In a week afterwards we were married: a few days more sufficed for the preparations that were required for my destination, and then we proceeded to the port, and embarked on board the ship that was to take us over many thousand miles of sea, to the wild, unknown country that was to be the scene of our mission." CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE. Mrs Reichardt was obliged to break off her narrative, where it concluded at the end of the last chapter. As I have said, her household duties being very numerous, and requiring a great deal of attention, took up nearly the whole of her time. The garden now presented a most agreeable appearance, possessing several different kinds of vegetables, and various plants that had been raised from seed. We had succeeded in raising several young orange-trees from the pips she had brought in her basket: and they promised to supply us with plenty of their luscious fruit. Even the peas we thought so dry and useless had germinated, and provided us with a welcome addition to our table. I shall never forget the first day she added to our scanty meal of dried fish a dish of smoking potatoes fresh out of the moist earth. After enjoying sufficiently my wonder at their appearance, and delight at their agreeable taste, she informed me of their first introduction into Europe, and their gradual diffusion over the more civilised portions of the globe. I speak of Europe now, because I had learned from my companion, not only a good deal of geography, but had obtained some insight into several other branches of knowledge. In particular, she had told me much interesting information about England, much more than I had learnt from Jackson; dwelling upon its leading features, and the most remarkable portions of its history; and I must acknowledge that I felt a secret pride in belonging to so great a country. I considered that I belonged to it, for my father and mother were English, and though I might be called The Little Savage, and be fixed to an obscure island in the great ocean, I felt that my real home was in this great country my mother talked about so glowingly, and that my chief object ought to be to return into the hands of my grandfather, the belt that had in so singular a manner come into my possession. I often thought of this great England whose glory had been so widely spread and so durably established, and longed for some means of leaving our present abode, and going in search of its time-honoured shores. But I asked myself how was this desirable object to be effected? We had no means of transporting ourselves from the prison into which we had been accidentally cast. We had nothing resembling a boat on the island, and we had no tools for making one; and even had we been put in possession of such a treasure, we had no means of launching it. The rocky character of the coast made the placing of a boat on the water almost impossible. The expectation of a vessel appearing off the island appeared quite as unreasonable. We had seen no ships for a long time, and those we had observed, were a great deal too far off to heed our signals. We had no help for it, but to trust to Providence and bear our present evil patiently. Nevertheless, I took my glass and swept the sea far and wide in search of a ship, but failed to discover anything but a spermaceti whale blowing in the distance, or a shoal of porpoises tumbling over each other nearer the shore, or a colony of seals basking in the sun on the rocks nearest the sea. My disappointment was shared by Nero, who seemed to regard my vexation with a sympathising glance, and even the gannets turned their dull stupid gaze upon me, with an expression as if they deeply commiserated my distress. I had for a long time employed myself in making a shelving descent to the sea, on the most secure part of the rock, intending that it should be a landing-place for a boat, in case any ship should come near enough to send one to our rescue. It was a work of great labour, and hatchet and spade equally suffered in my endeavours to effect my object; but at last I contrived to take advantage of a natural fracture in the rock, and a subsequent fall of the cliff, to make a rude kind of inclined plane, rather too steep and too rough for bad climbers, but extremely convenient for my mother and me, whenever we should be prepared to embark for our distant home. My thoughts were now often directed to the possibility of making on the island some kind of boat that would hold ourselves and sufficient provisions for a voyage to the nearest of the larger islands. I spoke to Mrs Reichardt on the subject, but she dwelt upon the impossibility, without either proper tools, or the slightest knowledge of boat-building, of producing a vessel to which we could trust ourselves with any confidence, neither of us knowing anything about its management in the open sea; and then she spoke of the dangers a small boat would meet with, if the water should be rough, or if we should not be able to make the island in any reasonable time. Yet I was not daunted by difficulties, nor dissuaded by discouraging representations. I thought at first of fastening all the loose timber together that had drifted against the rocks, as much in the shape of a boat as I could get it; but on looking over my stock of nails, I found they fell very far short of the proper quantity; consequently that mode of effecting my purpose was abandoned. I then thought of felling a tree and hollowing it out by charring the timber. As yet I had discovered nothing on the island but shrubs. I was quite certain that no tree grew near enough to the sea to be available, and if I should succeed in cutting down a large one and fashioning it as I desired, I had no means of transport. I might possibly make a boat capable of carrying all I wanted to put into it, but as I could neither move the water up to the boat, nor the boat down to the water, for all the service I wanted of it, even if the island contained a tree large enough, I might just as well leave it untouched. Still I would not altogether abandon my favourite project. I thought of the willows that grew on the island, and fancied I could make a framework by twisting them strongly together, and stretching seal-skins over them. I laboured at this for several weeks, exercising all my ingenuity and no slight stock of patience, to create an object with which I was but imperfectly acquainted. I did succeed at last in putting together something in a remote degree resembling the boat that brought part of the whaler's crew to the island and had taken them away, but it was not a quarter the size and was so light that I could carry it without much difficulty to the landing I had constructed on the cliff. When I came to try its capabilities, I found it terribly lopsided--it soon began to leak, and in fact it exhibited so many faults, that I was forced to drag it again on shore, and take it to pieces. I called in Mrs Reichardt to my assistance, and though at first she seemed averse to the experiment, she gave me a great deal of information respecting the structure of small boats, and the method of waterproofing leather and other fabrics. I attended carefully to all she said, and commenced rebuilding with more pretensions to art. I now made a strong framework, tolerably sharp at each end, and as nearly as possible resembling a keel at the bottom. I covered this on both sides with pieces of strong cloth saturated with grease from the carcases of birds, and then covered the whole with well-dried seal-skins, which I had made impervious to wet. The inside of the boat nearest the water I neatly covered with pieces of dry bark, over which I fixed some boards, which had floated to the island from wrecked ships. Finally I put in some benches to sit on, and then fancied I had done everything that was necessary. I soon got her into the fishing-pool, and was delighted to find that she floated capitally--but I still had a great deal to do. I had made neither oars to propel her through the water, nor sail to carry her through the waves, when rowing was impossible. I remembered the whaler's spare oars and mizen, but they were too large; nevertheless, they served me as models to work upon, and in time I made a rough pair of paddles or oars, which, though rudely fashioned, I hoped would answer the purpose pretty well. The next difficulty was how to use the oars, and I made many awkward attempts before I ascertained the proper method of proceeding. Again my companion, on whom nothing which had once passed before her eyes had passed in vain, showed me how the boat should be managed. In a short time I could row about the pool with sufficient dexterity to turn the boat in any direction I required, and I then took Nero as a passenger, and he seemed to enjoy the new gratification with a praiseworthy decorum; till, when I was trying to turn the boat round, the movement caused him to attempt to shift his quarters, which he did with so little attention to the build of our vessel, that in one moment she was capsized, and in the next we were swimming about in the pool with our vessel bottom upwards. As she was so light, I soon righted her, and found that she had received no injury, and appeared to be perfectly water-tight. CHAPTER THIRTY SIX. I could not prevail upon Mrs Reichardt to embark in my craft, the fate of my first passenger, which she had witnessed from the shore, had deterred her from attempting a voyage under such unpromising circumstances. As soon as I had dried my clothes, I was for making another experiment, and one too of a more hazardous nature. I would not be parted from Nero, but I made him lie at the bottom of the boat, where I could have him under strict control. With him I also took my little flock of gannets, who perched themselves round me, gazing about them with an air of such singular stupidity as they were being propelled through the water, that I could not help bursting out laughing. "Indeed," said Mrs Reichardt, "such a boat's crew and such a boat had never been seen in those seas before. A young Savage as captain, a tame seal as boatswain, and a flock of gannets as sailors, certainly made up as curious a set of adventurers as ever floated upon the wide ocean." I was not the least remarkable of the strange group, for I had nothing on but a pair of duck trousers, patched in several places; and my hair, which had grown very long, hung in black wavy masses to my shoulders. My skin was tanned by the sun to a light brown, very different from the complexion of Mrs Reichardt, which had ever been remarkable for its paleness. Indeed she told me I should find some difficulty in establishing my claim to the title of European, but none at all to that of Little Savage, which she often playfully called me. Nevertheless, in this trim, and with these companions, I passed out of the fishing-pool into the sea, with the intention of rowing round the island. Mrs Reichardt waved her hand as I departed on my voyage, having exhorted me to be very careful, as long as I was in hearing; she then turned away, as I thought, to return to the hut. The day was remarkably fine. There was not so much as a cloud on the horizon, and scarcely a ripple on the water: therefore, everything seemed to favour my project, for if there had been anything of a breeze, the beating of the waves against the rock would have been a great obstacle to my pursuing my voyage with either comfort or safety. The water too was so clear, that although it was of great depth, I could distinguish the shells that lay on the sand, and observe various kinds of fish, some of most curious shape, that rushed rapidly beneath the boat as it was urged along. I was delighted with the motion, and with the agreeable appearance of the different novelties that met my gaze. The light boat glided almost imperceptibly through the water at every stroke of the oar. Nero lay as still as if his former lesson had taught him the necessity of remaining motionless; and the gannets now and then expressed their satisfaction by a shrill cry or a rapid fluttering of their wings. In this way, we passed on without any adventure, till I found it necessary for me to row some distance out to sea, to round a projecting rock that stood like a mighty wall before me. I pulled accordingly, and then had a better opportunity of seeing the island than I had ever obtained. I recognised all the favourite places--the ravine, the wood, the hut covered with beautiful creepers, and the garden, full of flowers, looked very agreeable to the eye: but every part seemed to look pleasant, except the great savage rocks which inclosed the island on every side: but even these I thought had an air of grandeur that gave additional effect to the scene. Much to my surprise, I recognised Mrs Reichardt walking rapidly towards a part of the shore, near which I should be obliged to pass. From this I saw that she was intent on watching me from point to point, to know the worst, if any accident should befall me, and be at hand should there be a necessity for rendering assistance. I shouted to her, and she waved her hand in reply. On rounding the headland, my astonishment was extreme on finding my little bark in the midst of a shoal of enormous sharks. If I came in contact with one of them, I was lost, for the frail boat would certainly be upset, and as Jackson had assured me, if ever I allowed these monsters to come near enough, one snap of their jaws, and there would be an end of the Little Savage. I thought of the warning of Mrs Reichardt, and was inclined to think I had better have taken her advice, and remained in the fishing-pool; nevertheless, I went on as quietly and deliberately as possible, exercising all my skill to keep clear of my unexpected enemies. It was not till I had got into the middle of the shoal, that the sharks seemed to be aware there was anything unusual in their neighbourhood; but as soon as they were fully aware of the presence of an intruder, they exhibited the most extraordinary excitement, rushing together in groups, with such rapid motion, that the water became so agitated, I was obliged to exercise all my skill to keep the boat steady on her course. They dived, and rushed to and fro, and jostled each other, as I thought, in anything but an amicable spirit; still, however, keeping at a respectful distance from the boat, for which I was extremely thankful. I urged her on with all my strength, for the purpose of getting away from such unpleasant neighbours; but they were not to be so easily disposed of. They came swimming after the boat, then when within a few yards dived, and in a moment they were before it, as if to bar any further progress. I however pushed on, and they disappeared, but immediately afterwards rose on all sides of me. They were evidently getting more confidence; a fact I ascertained with no slight apprehension, for they began to approach nearer, and their gambols threatened every minute to overwhelm my poor craft, that, light as a cork, bounced up and down the agitated waves, as if quite as much alarmed for our safety as ourselves. The captain was not the only one who began to fear evil; the gannets were very restless, and it was only by strong admonitions I could prevail on Nero to retain his recumbent attitude at my feet; their instinct warned them of approaching danger, and I felt the comfortable assurance that my own rashness had brought me into my present critical position, and that if the menaced destruction did arrive, there was no sort of assistance at hand on which I could rely. Every moment the sharks became more violent in their demonstrations, and more bold in their approaches, and I could scarcely keep the boat going, or prevent the water rushing over her sides. The gannets having shown themselves for some minutes uneasy, had at last flown away to the neighbouring rock, and Nero began to growl and snap, as though meditating a forcible release from his prostrate position, to see what mischief was brewing. As I was coaxing him to be quiet, I felt a tremendous blow given to the boat, evidently from beneath, and she rose into the air several yards, scattering Nero and myself, and the oars, in different directions. The noise we made in falling, appeared for the instant to have scattered the creatures, for I had struck out for the rock and nearly reached it before a shark made its appearance. Just then I saw a large monster rushing towards me. I thought all was over. He turned to open his great jaws, and in another instant I should have been devoured. At that critical period I saw a second object dart in between me and the shark, and attack the latter fiercely. It was Nero, and it was the last I ever saw of my faithful friend. His timely interposition enabled me to reach a ledge in the cliff, where I was in perfect safety, hanging by some strong seaweed, although my feet nearly touched the water, and I could retain my position only with the greatest difficulty. The whole shoal were presently around me. They at first paid their attentions to the boat and the oars, which they buffeted about till they were driven close to the rock, at a little distance from the place where I had found temporary safety. They left these things unharmed as soon as they caught sight of me, and then their eagerness and violence returned with tenfold fury. They darted towards me in a body, and I was obliged to lift my legs, or I should have had them snapped off by one or other of the twenty gaping jaws that were thrust over each other, in their eagerness to make a mouthful of my limbs. This game was carried on for some minutes of horrible anxiety to me. I fancied that my struggles had loosened the seaweed, and that in a few minutes it must give way, and I should then be fought for and torn to pieces by the ravenous crew beneath. I shouted with all the strength of my lungs to scare them away; but as if they were as well aware that I could not escape them as I was myself, they merely left off their violent efforts to reach my projecting legs, and forming a semicircle round me, watched with upturned eyes, that seemed to possess a fiendish expression that fascinated and bewildered me, the snapping of the frail hold that supported me upon the rock. In my despair I prayed heartily, but it was rather to commend my soul to my Maker, than with any prospect of being rescued from so imminent and horrible a peril. The eyes of the ravenous monsters below seemed to mock my devotion. I felt the roots of the seaweed giving way: the slightest struggle on my part would, I knew, only hasten my dissolution, and I resigned myself to my fate. In this awful moment I heard a voice calling out my name. It was Mrs Reichardt on the cliff high above me. I answered with all the eagerness of despair. Then there came a heavy splash into the water, and I heard her implore me to endeavour to make for a small shrub that grew in a hollow of the rock, at a very short distance from the tuft of seaweed that had become so serviceable. I looked down. The sharks had all disappeared; I knew, however, that they would shortly return, and lost not a moment in making an effort to better my position in the manner I had been directed. Mrs Reichardt had thrown a heavy stone into the water among the sharks, the loud splash of which had driven them away. Before they again made their appearance, I had caught a firm hold of the twig, and flung myself up into a position of perfect safety. "Thank God he's safe!" I heard Mrs Reichardt exclaim. The sharks did return; but when they found their anticipated prey had escaped, they swam lazily out to sea. "Are you much hurt, Frank Henniker?" she presently cried out to me. "I have not a scratch," I replied. "Then thank God for your deliverance," she added. I did thank God, and Mrs Reichardt joined with me in prayer, and a more fervent thanksgiving than was ours, it is scarcely possible to imagine. CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN. I had several times pressed Mrs Reichardt for the conclusion of her story, but she had always seemed reluctant to resume the subject. It was evidently full of painful incidents, and she shrunk from dwelling upon them. At last, one evening we were sitting together, she working with her needle and I employed upon a net she had taught me how to manufacture, and I again led the conversation to the narrative my companion had left unfinished. She sighed heavily and looked distressed. "It is but natural you should expect this of me, my son," she said; "but you little know the suffering caused by my recalling the melancholy events that I have to detail. However, I have led you to expect the entire relation, and, therefore, I will endeavour to realise your anticipations." I assured her I was ready to wait, whenever it might be agreeable for her to narrate the termination of her interesting history. "It will never be agreeable to me," she replied mournfully; "indeed I would forget it if I could; but that is impossible. The struggle may as well be made now, as at any time. I will therefore commence by informing you, that during our long voyage to the Sandwich Islands, I found ample opportunity for studying the disposition of my husband. He was much changed since he first left me, but his was still the same grateful nature, full of truth and purity, that had won me towards him when a child. A holy enthusiasm seemed now to exalt him above ordinary humanity. I could scarcely ever get him to talk upon any but religious subjects, and those he treated in so earnest and exalted a manner, that it was impossible to avoid being carried away with his eloquence. "He seemed to feel the greatness of his destination, as though it had raised him to an equality with the adventurous saints, who established the banner of Christ among the Pagan nations of Europe. He was fond of dilating upon the importance of his mission, and of dwelling on the favour that had been vouchsafed him, in causing him to be selected for so high and responsible a duty. "It was evident that he would rather have been sent to associate with the barbarous people whom he expected to make his converts, than have been raised to the richest bishopric in England. And yet, with this exultation, there was a spirit of deep melancholy pervading his countenance, as well as his discourses, that seemed to imply a sense of danger. The nimbus of the saint in his eyes, was associated with the crown of martyrdom. He seemed to look forward to a fatal termination of his ministry, as the most natural and proper conclusion of his labours. "His conversation often filled me with dread. His intimations of danger seemed at first very shocking, but, at last, I got more familiar with these terrible suggestions, and regarded them as the distempered fancies of an over-worked mind. "In this way our long voyage passed, and we arrived at last at our place of destination. When we had disembarked, the scene that presented itself to me was so strange, that I could almost believe I had passed into a new world. The most luxurious vegetation, of a character I had never seen before--the curious buildings--the singular forms of the natives, and their peculiar costume--excited my wonder to an intense degree. "My husband applied himself diligently to learn the language of the people, whilst I as intently studied their habits and customs. We both made rapid progress. "As soon as I could make myself understood, I endeavoured to make friends with the women, particularly with the wives of the great men, and although I was at first the object of more curiosity than regard, I persisted in my endeavours, and succeeded in establishing with many a good understanding. "I found them ignorant of everything that in civilised countries is considered knowledge--their minds being enveloped in the most deplorable darkness--the only semblance of religion in use amongst them being a brutal and absurd idolatry. "I often tried to lead them to the consideration of more humanising truths, for the purpose of preparing the way for the inculcation of the great mysteries of our holy religion; but the greater portion of my hearers were incompetent to understand what I seemed so desirous of teaching, and my making them comprehend the principles of Christianity, appeared to be a hopeless task. "Yet I continued my pious labours, without allowing my exertions to flag--making myself useful to them and their families in every way I could--attending them when sick--giving them presents when well--and showing them every kindness likely to make a favourable impression on their savage natures. In this way I proceeded doing good, till I found an opportunity of being of service to a young girl, about twelve years of age, who was a younger sister of one of the wives of a great chief. She had sprained her ankle, and was in great pain, when I applied the proper remedies and gave her speedy relief. Hooloo, for that was her name, from that moment became warmly attached to me; and finding her of an affectionate and ingenuous disposition, I became extremely desirous of improving upon the good impression I had made. "At the same time my husband sought, by his knowledge of the mechanical arts, and some acquaintance with medicine, to recommend himself to the men. He also met with much difficulty at first, in making his information properly appreciated. He sought to increase their comforts--to introduce agricultural implements of a more useful description, and to lead then generally towards the conveniences and decencies of civilisation. He built himself a house and planted a garden, and cultivated some land, in which he showed the superior advantages of what he knew, to what they practised. They seemed to marvel much, but continued to go on in their own way. "He also went amongst them as a physician, and having acquired considerable knowledge of medicine and simple surgery, he was enabled to work some cures in fevers and spear-wounds, that in course of time made for him so great a reputation, that many of the leading chiefs sent for him, when anything ailed then or their families, and they were so well satisfied with what he did for them, that he began to be looked upon as one who was to be treated with particular respect and honour by all classes of the natives, from the highest to the lowest. "On one occasion the king required his services. He was suffering from a sort of colic, for which the native doctors could give him no relief. My husband administered some medicines, and stayed with his majesty until they had the desired effect, and the result being a complete recovery, seemed so astonishing to all the members of his Sandwich majesty's court, that the doctor was required to administer the same medicine to every one, from the queen to the humblest of her attendants, though all were apparently in good health. He managed to satisfy then with a small portion only of the mixture, which he was quite certain could do them no harm: and they professed to be wonderfully the better for it." CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT. "His reputation had now grown so great, that whatever he required was readily granted. He first desired to have some children sent him, to learn those things which had enabled him to do so much good, and this having been readily sanctioned, we opened a school for girls and boys, in which we taught the first elements of a civilised education. "Finding we made fair progress in this way, we commenced developing our real object,--the inculcation of Christian sentiments. This meeting with no opposition, and Reichardt having established a powerful influence over the entire community, he next proceeded with the parents, and earnestly strove to induce them to embrace the profession of Christianity. "His labours were not entirely unproductive. There began to prevail amongst the islanders, a disposition to hear the wondrous discourses of this stranger, and he was employed, day after day, in explaining to large and attentive audiences, the history of the Christian world, and the observances and doctrine of that faith which had been cemented by the blood of the Redeemer. The new and startling subjects of his discourse, as well as the impressive character of his eloquence, frequently deeply moved his hearers; and at his revelations they would often burst forth into piercing shouts and loud expressions of amazement. "In truth it was a moving scene. The noble figure of the missionary, with his fine features lighted up with the fire of holy enthusiasm, surrounded by a crowd of dusky savages, armed with spears and war-clubs, and partly clothed with feathers, in their features showing traces of unusual excitement, and every now and then joining in a wild chorus, expressive of their wonder, could not have been witnessed by any Christian, without emotion. "But when the ceremony of Baptism was first performed before them, their amazement was increased a thousand-fold. The first member of our flock was Hooloo, whom I had instructed so far in the principles of our faith, and I had acquired such an influence over her mind, that she readily consented to abandon her idolatrous customs and become a Christian. "After a suitable address to the natives, who had assembled in some thousands to witness the spectacle, in which he explained to them the motive and object of baptism, my husband assisted the girl down a sloping green bank which led to a beautiful stream, and walked with her into the water till he was up to his waist, then, after offering up a long and fervent prayer that this first victory over the false worship of the Devil might be the forerunner of the entire extirpation of idolatry from the land, he, plunging her into the water, baptised her in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. "All the people were awed to silence while the ceremony proceeded; but when it was over, they burst forth into a loud cry, and came down to meet the new Christian and my husband as they came out of the water, and waved over them boughs of trees, and danced and shouted as though in an ecstasy. "We however had not proceeded to this extent without exciting considerable opposition; our disrespect towards their idols had given great offence to those who were identified with the superstitions of the people, and flourished according as these were supported. Complaints were made too of our teaching a new religion, in opposition to the gods they and their fathers had worshipped, and a powerful party was got together for the purpose of pursuing us to destruction. "My husband was summoned before a council of the great chiefs, to hear the accusations that had been brought against him: and the old idolaters got up and abused him, and threatened him with the punishment of their monstrous gods, for telling lies to the people, and deceiving them with forged tales and strange customs. "They sought all they could, to move the judges against him, by painting the terrible fate that would befall them if they failed to kill the white stranger, who had insulted their gods; and they predicted hosts of calamities that were to happen, in consequence of their having allowed the teller of lies to work so much mischief against them. "My husband then being called upon for his defence, first declared to the judges the attributes of the Deity he worshipped: that He created the vast heavens, the stars, the mountains, the rivers, and the sea; His voice spoke in the thunder, and His eye flashed in the lightning. He then dwelt on His goodness to man, especially to the Sandwich Islanders, whom He had created for the purpose of enjoying the fine country around them and of beholding the beauty of the heavens where He dwelt. Then he referred to the gods they had worshipped, and asked how they were made, and what such senseless things could do for them; commenting on their inability to serve them in any way, or do them any harm; and went on to speak of the benefits he had been able to confer upon them, through the influence of the all-powerful God he worshipped; and asked them if he had ever done them anything but good. Lastly, he promised them innumerable benefits, if they would leave their useless gods, and turn to the only God who had the power to serve them. "It is impossible for me to do justice to the animated manner in which he delivered this discourse. It produced great effect upon the majority of his hearers; but there was a powerful minority it still more strongly influenced against him; and they continued to interrupt him with terrible outcries. "Most of the leading chiefs were against his suffering any harm. They bore in mind the advantages he had conferred, by his skill in medicine, and superior wisdom in various other things, which the people would lose were he put to death. They also remembered the hope he held out of future benefits, which of course they could not expect, if they offered him any violence. "The result was, that my husband was suffered to go harmless from the meeting, to the great disappointment of his enemies, who could scarcely be kept from laying violent hands upon him. The danger he had escaped, unfortunately, did not render him more prudent. Far from it. He believed that he was a chosen instrument of the Most High, to win these savages from the depths of idolatry and paganism; and continued, on every occasion that presented itself, to endeavour to win souls to God. "The school increased, several of the parents suffered themselves to be baptised, and there was a regular observance of the Lord's Day amongst those who belonged to our little flock. Even many of the islanders, although they did not become Christians, attended our religious services, and spoke well of us. "We brought up the young people to be able to teach their brethren and sisters; and hoped to be able to establish missions in other parts of the island, to which we sometimes made excursions; preaching the inestimable blessings of the Gospel to the islanders, and exhorting them to abandon their dark customs and heathen follies. I was not far behind my husband in this good work, and acquired as much influence among the women, as he exercised over the men: indeed we were generally looked upon as holy people, who deserved to be treated with veneration and respect." CHAPTER THIRTY NINE. "Things went on in this flourishing way for several years; my husband, deeply impressed with the responsibility of his position, as a chosen servant of God, devoted himself so entirely to the great work he had undertaken, that he often seemed to overlook the claims upon his attention of her he had chosen as his partner in his struggle against the powers of darkness. Sometimes I did not see him for several days; and often when we were together he was so abstracted he did not seem aware I was present. Whenever I could get him to speak of himself, he would dilate on the unspeakable felicity that he felt in drawing nearer to the end of his work. I affected not to know to what he alluded; but I always felt that he was referring to the impression he entertained of his own speedy dissolution, which he had taken up when he first embraced this mission. "I tried to get rid of my misgivings, by recalling the dangers and difficulties we had triumphantly passed, and referring to the encouraging state of things that existed at the present time; nevertheless, I could not prevent a sinking of the heart whenever I heard him venture upon the subject; and when he was absent from me, I often experienced an agony of anxiety till his return. I saw, however, no real cause of apprehension, and endeavoured to persuade myself none existed; and very probably I should have succeeded, had not my husband so frequently indulged in references to our separation. "Alas," she exclaimed, mournfully, "he was better informed than I was of the proximity of that Celestial Home, for which he had been so long and zealously preparing himself. He, doubtless, had his intimation from on high, that his translation to the realms of bliss was no remote consequence of his undertaking the mission he had accepted; and he had familiarised his mind to it as a daily duty, and by his constant references had sought to prepare me for the catastrophe he knew to be inevitable." Here Mrs Reichardt became so sensibly affected, that it was some time before she could proceed with her narrative. She, however, did so at last; yet I could see by the tears that traced each other down her wan cheeks, how much her soul was moved by the terrible details into which she was obliged to enter. "In the midst of our success," she presently resumed, "when we had established a congregation, had baptised hundreds of men, women, and children; had completed a regular place of worship and an extensive school-house, both of which were fully and regularly attended, some European vessel paid us a short visit, soon after which, that dreadful scourge the small-pox broke out amongst the people. Both children and adults were seized and as soon as one died, a dozen were attacked. "Soon the greatest alarm pervaded the natives my husband was implored to stop the pestilence, which power they felt convinced he had in his hands. He did all that was possible for him to do, but that unfortunately was very little. His recommendation of remedial measures was rarely attended with the desired results. Death was very busy. The people died in scores, and the survivors, excited by the vindictive men who had formerly sought his death for disparaging their gods began not only to fall off rapidly in their regard and reverence for my husband; but murmurs first, and execrations afterwards, and violent menaces subsequently, attended him whenever he appeared. "He preached to them resignation to the Divine will; but resignation was not a savage virtue. He was indefatigable in his attentions to the sick; but those of whom he was most careful seemed the speediest to die. The popular feeling against him increased every hour; he appeared, however, to defy his fate--walking unconcernedly amongst crowds of infuriated savages brandishing heavy clubs, and threatening him with the points of their sharp spears; but his eye never blinked, and his cheek never blanched, and he walked on his way inwardly praising God, careless of the evil passions that raged around him. "It was on a Sabbath morn--our service had far advanced; we could boast of but a limited congregation, for many had died, some had fled from the pestilence into the interior; others had avoided the place in consequence of the threats of their countrymen. A few children, and two or three women, were all their teacher had to address. "We were engaged in singing a psalm, when a furious crowd, mad with rage, as it seemed, screaming and yelling in the most frightful manner, and brandishing their weapons as though about to attack an enemy, burst into our little chapel, and seized my husband in the midst of his devotions. "I rushed forward to protect him from the numerous weapons that were aimed at his life, but was dragged back by the hair of my head, and with infuriate cries and gestures, that made them look like demons broke loose from hell, they fell upon him with their clubs and spears. "Reichardt made no resistance, he merely clasped his hands the more firmly, and looked up to heaven the more devoutly, as he continued the Psalm he had commenced before they entered. This did not delay his fate. "They beat out his brains so close to me, that I was covered with his blood; and I believe I should have shared the same fate, had I not fainted with terror at the horrible scene of which I was a forced spectator. "I learned afterwards that some powerful chief interfered, and I was carried away more dead than alive; in which state I long remained. As soon as I became sufficiently strong to be moved, I took advantage of a whaler calling at the island, homeward bound, to beg a passage. The captain heard my lamentable story, took me on board as soon as he could, and showed a seaman's sympathy for my sufferings. "I was to have returned to England with him, but off this place we encountered a terrible storm, in which we were obliged to take to the boats, as the only chance of saving our lives. What became of him I know not, as the two boats parted company soon after leaving the wreck. I trust he managed to reach the land in safety, and is now in his own country, enjoying all the comforts that can make life covetable. "What became of that part of the crew that brought me here in the other boat, led by the fires you had lighted, I am in doubt. But I think on quitting the island, crowded as their boat was, and in the state of its crew, it was scarcely possible for them to have made the distant island for which they steered." CHAPTER FORTY. Mrs Reichardt's story made a sensible impression on me. I no longer wondered at the pallor of her countenance, or the air of melancholy that at first seemed so remarkable; she had suffered most severely, and her sufferings were too recent not to have left their effects upon her frame. I thought a good deal about her narrative, and wondered much that men could be got to leave their comfortable homes, and travel thousands and thousands of miles across the fathomless seas, with the hope of converting a nation of treacherous savages, by whom they were sure to be slaughtered at the first outbreak of ill-feeling. I could not but admire the character of Reichardt--in all his actions he had exhibited a marked nobility of nature. He would not present himself before the woman who had the strongest claims upon his gratitude, till he had obtained a position and a reputation that should, in his opinion, make him worthy of her; and though he had a presentiment of the fate that would overtake him, he fulfilled his duties as a missionary with a holy enthusiasm that made him regard his approaching martyrdom as the greatest of all earthly distinctions. I felt regret that I had not known such a man. I knew how much I had lost in having missed such an example. My having heard this story, led me into much private communing with myself respecting religion. I could consider myself little better than a savage, like the brutal Sandwich Islanders; my conduct to Jackson had been only in a degree less inhuman than that these idolaters had shown to their teacher when he was in their power. I fancied at the time that I served him right, for his villainous conduct to my father, and brutal conduct to me: but God having punished him for his misdeeds, I felt satisfied I had no business to put him to greater torment as satisfaction for my own private injuries. I fancied God might have been angry with me, and had kept me on the island as a punishment for my offences; and I had some conversation with Mrs Reichardt on this point. "Nothing," she observed, "can excuse your ill-feeling towards Jackson; he was a bad man, without a doubt, and he deserved condign punishment for his usage of your parents; but the Divine founder of our religion has urged us to return good for evil." "Yes," I answered readily, "but I should have suffered as bad as my father and mother, had I not prevented his doing me mischief." "You do not know that you were to suffer," she replied. "Jackson, without such terrible punishment as he brought upon himself, might eventually have become contrite, and have restored you to your friends as well as enabled you to obtain your grandfather's property. God frequently performs marvellous things with such humble instruments; for he hath said, `there is more joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, than over ninety-nine just men.'" "Surely, this is raising the wicked man over the good," I cried. "Not at all," she replied. "The repentant is one gained from the ranks of the great enemy--it is as one that was lost and is found again--it is a soul added to the blessed. Therefore the joy in heaven is abundant at such a conversion. The just are the natural heirs of heaven--their rights are acknowledged without dispute--their claim is at once recognised and allowed, and they receive their portion of eternal joy as a matter of course, without there being any necessity for exciting those demonstrations of satisfaction which hail the advent of a sinner saved." "I don't think such a villain as Jackson would ever go to heaven," I observed. "`Judge not, lest ye be judged,'" she answered; "that is a text that cannot be too often impressed upon persons anxious to condemn to eternal torment all those they believe to be worse than themselves. It is great presumption in us poor creatures of clay, to anticipate the proceedings of the Infinite Wisdom. Let us leave the high prerogative of judgment to the Almighty Power, by whom only it is exercised, and in our opinions of even the worst of our fellow-creatures, let us exercise a comprehensive charity, mingled with a prayer that even at the eleventh hour, they may have turned from the evil of their ways, and embraced the prospect of salvation, which the mercy of their Creator has held out to them." In this and similar conversations, Mrs Reichardt would endeavour to plant in my mind the soundest views of religion; and she spoke so well, and so convincingly, that I had little trouble in understanding her meaning, or in retaining it after it had been uttered. It was not, as I have before stated, to religion only that she led my thoughts, although that certainly was the most frequent subject of our conversation. She sought to instruct me in the various branches of knowledge into which she had acquired some insight, and in this way I picked up as much information respecting grammar, geography, astronomy, writing, arithmetic, history, and morals, as I should have gained had I been at a school, instead of being forced to remain on a desolate island. I need not say that I still desired to leave it. I had long been tired of the place, notwithstanding that, from our united exertions, we enjoyed many comforts which we could not have hoped for. Our hut we had metamorphosed into something Mrs Reichardt styled a rustic cottage, which, covered as it was with flowers and creepers, really looked very pretty; and the garden added greatly to its pleasant appearance: for near the house we had transplanted everything that bore a flower that could be found in the island, and had planted some shrubs, that, having been carefully nurtured, made rapid growth, and screened the hut from the wind. I had built a sort of outhouse for storing potatoes and firewood, and a fowl-house for the gannets, which were now a numerous flock; and had planted a fence round the garden, so that, as Mrs Reichardt said, we looked as if we had selected a dwelling in our own beloved England, in the heart of a rural district, instead of our being circumscribed in a little island thousands of miles across the wide seas, from the home of which we were so fond of talking. Although my companion always spoke warmly of the land of her birth, and evidently would have been glad to return to it, she never grieved over her hard fate in being, as it were, a prisoner on a rock, out of reach of friends and kindred; indeed, she used to chide me for being impatient of my detention, and insensible of the blessings I enjoyed. "What temptations are we not free from here?" she would say. "We see nothing of the world; we cannot be contaminated with its vices, or suffer from its follies. The hideous wars--the terrible revolutions-- the dreadful visitations of famine and pestilence--are completely unknown to us. Robbery, and murder, and fraud, and the thousand other phases of human wickedness, we altogether escape. There was a time, when men, for the purpose of leading holy lives, abandoned the fair cities in which they had lived in the enjoyment of every luxury, and sought a cave in some distant desert, where, in the lair of some wild beast, with a stone for a pillow, a handful of herbs for a meal, and a cup of water for beverage, they lived out the remnant of their days in a constant succession of mortifications, prayers, and penitence. "How different," she added, "is our own state. We are as far removed from the sinfulness of the world, as any hermit of the desert, whilst we have the enjoyment of comforts to which they were strangers." "But probably," I observed, "these men were penitents, and went into the desert as much to punish their bodies for the transgressions of the flesh, as to acquire by solitary communion, a better knowledge of the spirit than they were likely to obtain in their old haunts." "Some were penitents, no doubt," she answered, "but they, having obtained by their sanctity an extraordinary reputation, induced others, whose lives had been blameless, to follow their example, and in time the desert became colonised with recluses, who rivalled each other in the intensity of their devotions and the extent of their privations." "Would it not have been more commendable," I asked, "if these men had remained in the community to which they belonged, withstanding temptation, and employed in labour that was creditable to themselves, and useful to their country?" "No doubt it would,"--she replied; "but religion has unfortunately, too often been the result of impulse rather than conviction; and at the period to which we are referring, it was thought that sinful human nature could only gain the attributes of saintship by neglecting its social duties, and punishing its humanity in the severest manner. Even in more recent times, and at the present day, in Catholic countries, it is customary for individuals of both sexes, to abandon the world of which they might render themselves ornaments, and shut themselves up in buildings constructed expressly to receive them, where they continue to go through a course of devotions and privations till death puts an end to their voluntary imprisonment. "In this modified instance of seclusion," she added, "there are features very different from our own case. We are not forced to impoverish our blood with insufficient diet, or mortify our flesh with various forms of punishment. We do not neglect the worship of God. We offer up daily thanks for His loving care of us, and sing His praises in continual hymns; and instead of wasting the hours of the day in unmeaning penances, we fill up our time in employments that add to our health, comfort, and happiness; and that enable us the better to appreciate the goodness of that Power who is so mindful of our welfare." "Have you no wish, then, to leave this island?" I inquired. "I should gladly avail myself of the first opportunity that presented itself, for getting safely to England," she replied. "But I would wait patiently the proper time. It is not only useless repining at our prolonged stay here, but it looks like an ungrateful doubting of the power of God to remove us. Be assured that He has not preserved us so long, and through so many dangers, to abandon us when we most require His interposition in our favour." I endeavoured to gather consolation from such representations: but perhaps young people are not so easily reconciled to what they do not like, as are their elders; for I cannot say I succeeded in becoming satisfied with my position. CHAPTER FORTY ONE. The perils of my first voyage had deterred me from making a similar experiment; but I recovered my boat, and having further strengthened it, fitted it with what could either be turned into a well or locker: I used to row out a little distance when the sea was free from sharks and fish. But my grand effort in this direction, was the completion of a net, which, assisted by Mrs Reichardt, I managed to manufacture. By this time, she had gained sufficient confidence to accompany me in my fishing excursions; she would even take the oars whilst I threw out the net, and assisted me in dragging it into the boat. The first time we got such a haul, that I was afraid of the safety of our little craft. The locker was full, and numbers of great fish, as I flung them out of the net, were flapping and leaping about the bottom of the boat. It began to sink lower in the water than was agreeable to either of us, and I found it absolutely necessary to throw back into the sea the greater portion of our catch. We then rowed carefully to land, rejoicing that we had at our command the means of obtaining an abundant supply of food whenever we desired it. Mrs Reichardt was with me also in our land excursions. Together we had explored every part of the island; our chief object was plants for enriching our garden; and, often as we had been in search of novelties, we invariably brought home additions to our collection; and my companion having acquired some knowledge of botany, would explain to me the names, characters, and qualities of the different species; which made our journeys peculiarly interesting. Our appearance often caused considerable amusement to each other; for our respective costumes must have been extremely curious in the eyes of a stranger. Neither wore shoes or stockings--these things we did not possess, and could not procure; we wore leggings and sandals of seal-skin to protect us from the thorns and plants of the cacti tribe, among which we were obliged to force our way. My companion wore a conical cap of seal-skin, and protected her complexion from the sun by a rude attempt at an umbrella I had made for her. She had on, on these occasions, a pair of coarse cloth trousers, as her own dress would have been torn to pieces before she had got half a mile through the bush; these were surmounted by a tight spencer she had herself manufactured out of a man's waistcoat, and a dimity petticoat, which buttoned up to her throat, and was fastened in the same way at the wrists. My head was covered with a broad-brimmed hat, made of dry grass, which I had myself plaited. I wore a sailor's jacket, much the worse for wear, patched with seal-skin, over a pair of duck trousers, similarly repaired. Although our expeditions were perfectly harmless, we did not go without weapons. At the instigation of my companion, I had made myself a good stout bow and plenty of arrows, and had exercised myself so frequently at aiming at a mark, as to have acquired very considerable skill in the use of them. I had now several arrows of hard wood tipped with sharp fish-bones, and some with iron nails, in a kind of pouch behind me; in its sheath before me was my American knife, which I used for taking the plants from the ground. I had a basket made of the long grass of the island, slung around me, which served to contain our treasures; and I carried my bow in my hand. My companion, in addition to her umbrella, bore only a long staff, and a small basket tied round her waist, that usually contained a little refreshment; for she would say there was no knowing what might occur to delay our return, and therefore it was better to take our meal with us. And not the least agreeable portion of the day's labour was our repast; for we would seat ourselves in some quiet corner, surrounded by flowers, and shaded by the brushwood from the sun, and there eat our dried fish or pick our birds, and roast our potatoes by means of a fire of dried sticks, and wash down our simple dinner with a flask of pure water--the most refreshing portion of our banquet. I had, as I have just stated, attained a singular degree of skill in the use of the bow and arrow, which, as we had no firearms, was often of important service in procuring food on land. I had made another use of my skill--an application of it which afforded me a vast deal of satisfaction. My old enemies the sharks used still to frequent a certain portion of the coast, in great numbers, and as soon as I became master of my weapon, I would stand as near to the edge of the rock as was safe, and singling out my victim, aim at his upper fin, which I often found had the effect of ridding the place of that fellow. I bore such an intense hatred to these creatures for the fright they had put me into during my memorable voyage of discovery, and for the slaughter of my beloved Nero, that I determined to wage incessant war against them, as long as I could manufacture an arrow, or a single shark remained on the coast. As we had so often traversed the island without accident, we dreamt not of danger. We had never met with any kind of animals, except our old friends the seals, who kept near the sea. Of birds, the gannets were generally the sole frequenters of the island; but we had seen, at rare intervals, birds of a totally different character, some of which I had shot. Indeed, during our excursions, I was always on the look-out for any stranger of the feathered race, that I might exercise my skill upon him. If he proved eatable, he was sure to be very welcome; and even if he could not be cooked, he afforded me some entertainment, in hearing from Mrs Reichardt his name and habits. We had discovered a natural hollow which lay so low that it was quite hid till we came close to it, when we had to descend a steep declivity covered with shrubs. At the bottom was a soil evidently very productive, for we found trees growing there to a considerable height, that were in marked contrast to the shrubby plants that grew in other parts of the island. We called this spot the Happy Valley, and it became a favourite resting-place. I remember on one of these occasions, we had made our dinner after having been several hours employed in seeking for plants, of which we had procured a good supply, and the remains of our meal lay under a great tree, beneath the spreading branches of which we had been resting ourselves. It was quite on the other side of the island, within about a quarter of a mile of the sea. Abundance of curious plants grew about the place, and Mrs Reichardt had wandered to a little distance to examine all within view. I was peering into the trees and shrubs around to discover a newcomer. I had wandered in an opposite direction to that taken by my companion, and was creeping round a clump of shrubs about twenty yards off, in which I detected a chirping noise, when I heard a loud scream. I turned sharply round and beheld Mrs Reichardt, evidently in an agony of terror, running towards me with prodigious swiftness. She had dropped her umbrella and her staff, her cap had fallen from her head, and her long hair, disarranged by her sudden flight, streamed behind her shoulders. At first I did not see anything which could have caused this terrible alarm; but in a few seconds I heard a crushing among a thicket of shrubs from which she was running, as if some heavy weight was being forced through them; and presently there issued a most extraordinary monster. It came forward at a quick pace, its head erect above ten feet, its jaws wide open, from the midst of which there issued a forked tongue which darted in and out with inconceivable rapidity. Its body was very long, and thick as an ordinary tree; it was covered over with bright shining scales that seemed to have different colours, and was propelled along the ground in folds of various sizes, with a length of tail of several yards behind. Its eyes were very bright and fierce. Its appearance certainly accounted for my companion's alarm. "Fly!" she cried in accents of intense terror, as she rushed towards me, "fly, or you are lost!" She then gave a hurried glance behind her, and seeing the formidable monster in full chase, she just had power to reach the spot to which I had advanced, and sunk, overpowered with terror, fainting at my feet. My first movement was to step across her body for the purpose of disputing the passage of the monster; and in an erect posture, with my bow drawn tight as I could pull it, I waited a few seconds till I could secure a good aim, for I knew everything depended on my steadiness and resolution. On came my prodigious antagonist, making a terrible hissing as he approached, his eyes flashing, his jaws expanded as if he intended to swallow me at a mouthful, and the enormous folds of his huge body passing like wheels over the ground,--crushing the thick plants that came in their way like grass. I must acknowledge that in my heart I felt a strange sinking sensation, but I remembered that our only chance of escape lay in giving the monster a mortal wound, and the imminence of the danger seemed to afford me the resolution I required. He was close behind, and in a direct line with the tree under which we had dined, and I was about twenty yards from it. Directly his head darted round and in front of the tree, making a good mark, I let fly the arrow direct, as I thought, for his eye, hoping, by penetrating his brain, to settle him at once. But as he moved his head at that moment, the arrow went into his open jaws, one of which it penetrated, and going deep into the tree behind, pinned his head close to the bark. As soon as the huge creature found himself hurt, he wound his enormous body round the trunk, and with his desperate exertions, swayed the great tree backwards and forwards, as I would have done one of its smallest branches. Fearful that he would liberate himself before I could save my senseless companion, as quick as possible I discharged all my arrows into his body, which took effect in various places. His exertions then became so terrible, that I hastily snatched up Mrs Reichardt in my arms, and with a fright that seemed to give me supernatural strength, I ran as fast as I could the shortest way to our hut. Fortunately, before I had gone half a mile, my companion came to her senses, and was able to continue her flight. We got home at last, half dead with fatigue and fright; nevertheless the first thing we did was to barricade all the entrances. We left loop-holes to reconnoitre; and there we sat for hours after our arrival, waiting the monster's approach in fear and trembling. We did not go to sleep that night. We did not, either of us, go out the next day. The next night one watched while the other slept. The second day my courage had so far returned, I wanted to go and look after the constant subject of our conversation. But Mrs Reichardt dissuaded me. She told me it was an enormous python, or serpent of the boa species, that are common in the northern coast of America. Probably it had been brought to the island on a drifted tree, and being so prodigious a reptile, the wounds it had received were not likely to do it much harm, and it would be no doubt lurking about, ready to pounce upon either of us directly we appeared. On the third day, nothing having occurred to increase our alarm, I determined to know the worst; so I got by stealth out of the house, and, armed with a fresh bow, a good supply of arrows, a hatchet slung at my side, and my American knife--with my mind made up for another conflict if necessary--I crept stealthily along, with my eyes awake to the slightest motion, and my ears open to the slightest sound, till I approached the scene of my late unequal struggle. I must own I began to draw my breath rather rapidly, and my heart beat more quickly, as I came near the place where I had left my terrible enemy. To my extreme surprise the python had disappeared. There was the tree still standing, though its foliage and branches strewed the ground, and a great portion of its bark was ground to powder. At the base of the trunk was a pool of blood, mingled with fragments of bark, broken arrows, leaves, and mould. The reptile had escaped. But where was he? Not altogether without anxiety I began to look for traces of his retreat; and they were easily found. With my arrow ready for immediate flight, I followed a stream of blood that was still visible on the grass, and led from the tree, accompanied by unmistakeable marks of the great serpent's progress, in a direct line to the sea. There it disappeared. When I discovered this, I breathed again. There was no doubt if the monster survived the conflict, he was hundreds of miles away, and was not likely to return to a place where he had received so rough a welcome. It may readily be believed I lost no time in taking the agreeable news to my companion. CHAPTER FORTY TWO. I had become tired of looking out for a ship. Though day after day, and week after week, I made the most careful scrutiny with my glass, as I have said, it brought no result. I sometimes fancied I saw a vessel appearing in the line of the horizon, and I would pile up fagots and light them, and throw on water to make them smoke, as Jackson had done; but all without avail. Either my vision had deceived me, or my signals had not been observed, or the ship's course did not lay in the direction of the island. We had had storms, too, on several occasions, but no wreck had been left on our coast. I began to think we were doomed to live out our lives on this rock, and frequently found myself striving very manfully to be resigned to my fate, and for a few days I would cheerfully endeavour to make the best of it. But the increasing desire I felt to get to England, that I might seek out my grandfather, and put him in possession of his diamonds, always prevented this state of things enduring very long. I had obtained from Mrs Reichardt an idea of the value of these stones, and of the importance of their restoration to my relative, and I had often thought of the satisfaction I should enjoy in presenting myself before him, as the restorer of such valuable property, which, no doubt, had long since been given up as lost. But latterly, I thought less of these things; the chance of leaving the island seemed so remote, and the prospect of ever seeing my grandfather so very distant, that I had ceased to take any interest in the contents of the belt. The diamonds seemed to become as valueless as they were useless; a handful of wheat would have been much more desirable. It was now some time since I had seen the belt, or inquired about it. Thus we lived without any incident occurring worth relating--when one day the appearance of the atmosphere indicated a storm, and a very violent hurricane, attended with peals of thunder and lurid flashes of lightning, lasted during the whole of the day and evening. The wind tore up the trees by the roots, blew down our outhouses, made terrible havoc in our garden, and threatened to tumble our hut over our heads. We could not think of going to our beds whilst such a tempest was raging around us, so we sat up, listening to the creaking of the boards, and anticipating every moment that the whole fabric would be blown to pieces. Fortunately, the bark with which I had covered the roof, in a great measure protected us from the rain, which came down in torrents; but every part was not equally impervious, and our discomfort was increased by seeing the water drip through, and form pools on the floor. The thunder still continued at intervals, and was sometimes so loud as to have a most startling effect upon us. My companion knelt down and said her prayers with great fervour, and I joined in them with scarcely less devotion. Indeed it was an awful night, and our position, though under shelter, was not without danger. The incessant flashes of lightning seemed to play round our edifice, as if determined to set it in a blaze; and the dreadful peals of thunder that followed, rolled over our heads, as if about to burst upon the creaking boards that shut us from its fury. I fancied once or twice that I heard during the storm, bursts of sound quite different in character from the peals of thunder. They were not so loud, and did not reverberate so much; they seemed to come nearer, and then the difference in sound became very perceptible. "Great God!" exclaimed Mrs Reichardt, starting up from her kneeling posture, "that is a gun from some ship." The wind seemed less boisterous for a few seconds, and the thunder ceased. We listened breathlessly for the loud boom we had just heard, but it was not repeated. In a moment afterwards our ears were startled by the most terrifying combination of screams, shrieks, cries, and wailings, I had ever heard. My blood seemed chilled in my veins. "A ship has just struck," whispered my companion, scarcely above her breath. "The Lord have mercy on the crew!" She sunk on her knees again in prayer, as if for the poor souls who were struggling in the jaws of death. The wind still howled, and the thunder still roared; but in the fiercest war of the elements, I fancied I could every now and then hear the piercing shrieks sent up to heaven for assistance. I thought once or twice of venturing out, but I remembered the safety of my companion was so completely bound up with my own, that I could not reconcile myself to leaving her; and I was also well aware, that till the terrible fury of the tempest abated, it was impossible for me to be of the slightest service to the people of the wrecked ship, even could I remain unharmed exposed to the violence of the weather. I, however, awaited with much impatience and intense anxiety till the storm had in some measure spent itself; but this did not occur till sunrise the next morning. The wind fell, the thunder and lightning ceased, the rain was evidently diminishing, and the brightness of the coming day began to burst through the darkest night that had ever visited the island. Mrs Reichardt would not be left behind; it was possible she might be useful, and taking with her a small basket of such things as she imagined might be required, she accompanied me to the rocks nearest the sea. On arriving there, the most extraordinary scene presented itself. The sea was strewed with spars, masts, chests, boats stove in or otherwise injured, casks, empty hencoops, and innumerable pieces of floating wreck, that were continually dashed against the rocks, or were washed ashore, wherever an opening for the sea presented itself. At a little distance lay the remains of a fine ship, her masts gone by the board, her decks open, in fact a complete wreck, over which the sea had but lately been making a clean sweep, carrying overboard everything that could not resist its fury. I could see nothing resembling a human being, though both myself and my companion looked carefully round, in the hope of discovering some poor creature that might need assistance. It appeared, however, as if the people of the ship had taken to their boats, which had been swamped, and most probably all who had ventured into them had been devoured by the sharks. Had the crew remained on board, they would in all probability have been saved; as the vessel had been thrown almost high and dry. As soon as we had satisfied ourselves that no sharks were in the neighbourhood, I launched my little boat, and each taking an oar, we pulled in the direction of the wreck, which we reached in a few minutes. She had heeled over after striking, and the water was quite smooth under her lee. I contrived to climb into the main chains, and from thence on board, and was soon afterwards diligently exploring the ship. I penetrated every place into which I could effect an entrance, marvelling much at the variety of things. I beheld. There seemed such an abundance of everything, and of things, too, quite new to me, that I was bewildered by their novelty and variety. Having discovered a coil of new rope, I hauled it on deck, and soon made fast my little boat to the ship. Then I made a hasty rope ladder, which I threw over, and Mrs Reichardt was in a very few minutes standing by my side. Her knowledge was necessary to inform me of the uses of the several strange things I saw, and to select for our own use what was most desirable. She being well acquainted with the interior of a ship, and having explained to me its numerous conveniences, I could not but admire the ingenuity of man, in creating such stupendous machines. The ship having much water in the hold, I was forced to dive into the armoury. It was the first time I had seen such things, and I handled the muskets and pistols with a vast deal of curiosity; as my companion explained to me how they were loaded and fired, I at once saw their advantage over the bow and arrow, and was selecting two or three to carry away, when I hesitated on being assured they would be perfectly useless without ammunition. I might have remained content with my own savage weapons, that had already served me so well, had not Mrs Reichardt, in the course of our survey, discovered several tin canisters of powder perfectly uninjured, with abundance of shot and bullets, of which I quickly took possession. From other parts of the vessel we selected bags of grain, barrels of flour, and provisions of various kinds; wearing apparel, boxes of tools, with numerous bottles and jars, of the contents of which I was perfectly unacquainted, though their discovery gave great gratification to my companion. What most excited my wonder, were various kinds of agricultural implements that we found in the hold, and in a short time I was made aware of the proper employment of spades, harrows, ploughs, thrashing-machines, and many other things, of the existence of which I had never before dreamt. We found also quantities of various kinds of seeds and roots, and some sort of twigs growing in pots, which Mrs Reichardt particularly begged me not to leave behind, as they would be of the greatest use to us; and, she added, that from various signs, she believed that the ship had been an emigrant vessel going out with settlers, but to what place she could not say. We made no ceremony in breaking open lockers and chests, and everywhere discovered a variety of things, which, could we transfer to our island, would add greatly to our comfort; but how they were to be got ashore, was a puzzle which neither of us seemed capable of solving. Our little boat would only contain a few of the lighter articles; and as many of these as we could conveniently put together were shortly stowed in her. With this cargo we were about returning, when my companion called my attention to a noise that seemed to come from a distant corner of the vessel, and she laughed and exhibited so much satisfaction, that I believed we were close upon some discovery far more important than any we had yet hit upon. We continued to make our way to what seemed to me a very out of the way part of the vessel, led in a great measure by the noises that proceeded from thence. It was so dark here, that we were obliged to get a light, and my companion having procured a ship's lantern, and lighted it by means of a tinder-box, led me to a place where I could discern several animals, most of which were evidently dead. She, however, ascertained that there were two young calves, three or four sheep, and as many young pigs, still giving very noisy evidence of their existence. She searched about and found some food for them, which they ate with great avidity. The larger animals she told me were cows and horses; but they had fallen down, and gave no signs of life. My companion and myself then entered into a long debate as to how we were to remove the living animals from the dead; and she dwelt very eloquently upon the great advantages that would accrue to us, if we could succeed in transporting to the island the survivors. After giving them a good feed, seeing we could not remove them at present, we descended safely to our boat and gained the shore without any accident. Then having housed our treasures, we were for putting together a raft of the various planks and barrels that were knocking against the rocks; but as I knew this would take a good deal of time, I thought I would inspect the ship's boats, which, bottom upwards, were drifting about within a few yards of us. To our great satisfaction, one I ascertained to be but little injured, and having forced her ashore, with our united exertions we turned her over. In an hour we had made her water-tight, had picked up her oars, and were pulling merrily for the wreck. CHAPTER FORTY THREE. Had the cows or horses been alive, they must have been left behind, for we could not have removed them; but the smaller animals were with comparatively little difficulty got on deck, and they descended with me into the boat. We added a few things that lay handy, and in a few minutes were laughingly driving our four-footed treasures on shore, to the extreme astonishment of the gannets, which seemed as though they would never cease to flap their wings, as their new associates were driven by them. In the same way we removed the most portable of the agricultural implements, bed and bedding, cots and hammocks, furniture, the framework of a house, preserved provisions of all kinds, a medicine-chest, boxes of books, crates of china and glass, all sorts of useful tools, and domestic utensils; in short, in the course of the next two or three weeks, by repeated journeys, we filled every available place we could find with what we had managed to rescue. Then came another terrible storm that lasted two days, after which the wreck having been broken up, was scattered in every direction. I however managed to secure the driftwood, tubs, spars, and chests, which were all got on shore, and proved of the greatest service to me some time afterwards. Numerous as our acquisitions had been in this way, both of us had been infinitely better pleased had we been able to rescue some of the ill-fated crew, to whom they had once belonged. But not one of them could have escaped, and only one body was cast on shore, which was that of a young woman, who lay with her face to the ground, and her wet clothes clinging round her. We turned her carefully over, and I beheld a face that seemed to me wonderfully fair and beautiful. She had escaped the sharks, and had been dead several hours--most probably she had been cast on shore by the waves, soon after the ship struck, for she had escaped also the rocks, which, had she been dashed against, would have left fearful signs of their contact on her delicate frame. The sight of her corpse gave me many melancholy thoughts. I thought of the delight she might have caused both of us, had she been saved. What a pleasant companion she might have proved. Indeed, as I looked on her pale cold features, I fancied that she might have reconciled me to ending my existence on the island--ay, even to the abandonment of my favourite scheme of seeking my grandfather to give him back his diamonds. We took her up with as much pity and affection as if she were our nearest and dearest relative, and carried her home, and placed her on Mrs Reichardt's bed; and then I laid some planks together, in the shape of what Mrs Reichardt called a coffin--and I dug her a deep grave in the guano. And all the while I found myself crying as I had never cried before, and my heart seemed weary and faint. In solemn silence we carried her to her grave, and read over her the funeral service out of the Prayer-book, kneeling and praying for this nameless creature, whom we had never seen alive, as though she had been our companion for many years; both of us shedding tears, for her hapless fate, as if we had lost a beloved sister. And when we had filled up her grave and departed, we went home, and passed the most miserable day we had ever had to endure since we had first been cast upon the island. I had now numerous occupations that kept me actively employed. Still I could not for a long time help recalling to mind that pale face that looked so piteously upon me when I first beheld it; and then I would leave off my work, and give myself up to my melancholy thoughts till my attention was called off by some appeal from my companion. I made a kind of monument over the place where she was buried, and planted there the finest flowers we had; and I never passed the spot without a prayer, as if I were approaching holy ground. I must not forget to add, that a few days after the wreck, we were agreeably surprised by visitors that, though unexpected, were extremely welcome. I had noticed strange birds wandering about in various parts of the island. On their coming under the notice of my companion, they were immediately recognised as fowls and ducks, that had no doubt escaped from the ship. We might now, therefore, constitute ourselves a little colony, of which Mrs Reichardt and myself were the immediate governors, the settlers being a mingled community of calves, sheep, pigs, and poultry, that lived on excellent terms with each other; the quadrupeds having permission to roam where they pleased, and the bipeds being kept within a certain distance of the government house. The old hut had suffered so much from the storm that I determined on building another in a better position, and had recourse to the framework of the house I had taken from the wreck. I had some difficulty in putting the several parts together, but at last succeeded, and a small, but most commodious dwelling was the result. Near it I laid out a new garden, wherein I planted all the orange-trees we had reared, as well as many of the seeds and roots we had brought from the wreck. A little beyond I inclosed a paddock, wherein I planted the twigs we had found in pots, which proved to be fruit-trees. When I had done this, I thought of my agricultural implements, and very much desired to make use of a handy plough that was amongst them, when I learned the advantages that might arise from it. At first I yoked myself to the plough, and Mrs Reichardt held it: this proved such hard and awkward work, that I kept projecting all sorts of plans for lessening the labour--the best was that of yoking our calves, and making them pull instead of myself. This was more easily thought of than done. The animals did not prove very apt pupils, but in course of time, with a good deal of patience, and some manoeuvring, I succeeded in making them perform the work they were expected to do. Thus, in building, gardening, planting, and farming, the time flew by quickly, and in the course of the next year the aspect of the place had become quite changed. The guano that enriched the soil made every kind of vegetation thrive with an almost marvellous rapidity and luxuriance. We had a comfortable house, up which a vine was creeping in one place, and a young pear-tree in another. We were supplied with the choicest oranges, and had apples of several kinds. We had abundance of furniture, and an inexhaustible stock of provisions. We had a most gorgeous show of flowers, of many different species; our new kitchen-garden was full of useful vegetables--young fruit-trees were yielding their produce wherever they had been planted--the poultry had more than doubled their number--the calves were taking upon themselves the full dignity of the state of cow and bull--the ewes had numerous lambs--and the pigs had not only grown into excellent pork, but had already produced more than one litter, that would be found equally desirable when provisions ran scarce. We had two growing crops, of different kinds of grain, and a large pasture-field fenced round. The Little Savage, at seventeen, had been transformed into a farmer, and the cultivation of the farm and the care of the live stock soon left him no time for indulging in vain longings to leave the island, or useless regrets for the fair creature who, even in death, I had regarded as its greatest ornament. Two years later, still greater improvements, and still greater additions became visible. We were establishing a dairy farm on a small scale, and as our herds and flocks, as well as the pigs and poultry, increased rapidly, we promised in a few years to be the most thriving farmers that had ever lived in that part of the world by the cultivation of the land. CHAPTER FORTY FOUR. Although my first experimental voyage had proved so hazardous, now that I was better provided for meeting its perils, I became anxious to make another attempt to circumnavigate the island. The boat that had belonged to the wrecked ship, from the frequent trips I had made in her to and from the shore, I could manage as well as if I had been rowing boats all my life. With the assistance of Mrs Reichardt, who pulled an oar almost as well as myself, we could get her along in very good style, even when heavily laden, and our labours together had taken from her all that timidity which had deterred her from trusting herself with me, when I first ventured from the island. I was, however, very differently circumstanced now, to what I was then. Instead of a frail cockle-shell, that threatened to be capsized by every billow that approached it, and that would scarcely hold two persons comfortably, I was master of a well-built ship's boat, that would hold half a dozen with ease, and except in very rough weather, was as safe as any place ashore. I had repaired the slight damage its timbers had received, and had made an awning to protect us when rowing, from the heat of the sun; I had also raised a sail, which would relieve us of a good deal of labour. When everything was prepared, I urged Mrs Reichardt to accompany me in a voyage round the island; an excursion I hoped would turn out equally pleasant and profitable. I found her very averse to trusting herself farther from shore than was absolutely necessary. She raised all kinds of objections--prominent among which were my want of seamanship for managing a boat in the open sea; the danger that might arise from a sudden squall coming on; her fear of our getting amongst a shoal of sharks, and the risk we ran of driving against a projecting rock; but I overruled them all. I showed her, by taking little trips out to sea, that I could manage the boat either with the sail or the oars, and assured her that by keeping close to the island, we could run ashore before danger could reach us; and that nothing could be easier than our keeping out of the reach of both rocks and sharks. I do not think I quite convinced her that her fears were groundless; but my repeated entreaties, the fineness of the weather, and her dislike to be again left on the island, whilst I was risking my life at sea, prevailed, and she promised to join me in this second experiment. Her forethought, however, was here as fully demonstrated as on other occasions, for she did not suffer the boat to leave the shore till she had provided for any accident that might prevent our return the anticipated time. A finer day for such a voyage we could not have selected. The sky was without a cloud, and there was just wind enough for the purpose I wanted, without any apprehensions of this being increased. I got up the awning, and spread the sail, and handing Mrs Reichardt to her appointed seat, we bid farewell to our four-footed and two-footed friends ashore, that were gazing at us as if they knew they were parting from their only protectors. I then pushed the boat off, the wind caught the sail, and she glided rapidly through the deep water. I let her proceed in this way about a quarter of mile from the island, and then tacked; the boat, obedient to the position of the sail, altered her course, and we proceeded at about the same rate, for a considerable distance. Mrs Reichardt, notwithstanding her previous fears, could not help feeling the exhilarating effect of this adventurous voyage. We were floating, safely and gracefully, upon the billows, with nothing but sea and sky in every direction but one, where the rugged shores of our island home gave a bold, yet menacing feature to the view. My heart seemed to expand with the majestic prospect before me. Never had mariner, when discovering some prodigious continent, felt a greater degree of exultation than I experienced when directing my little vessel over the immense wilderness of waters that spread out before me, till it joined the line of the horizon. I sat down by the side of Mrs Reichardt, and allowed the boat to proceed on its course, either as if it required no directing hand, or that its present direction was so agreeable, I felt no inclination to alter it. "I can easily imagine," said I, "the enthusiasm of such men as Columbus, whose discovery of America you were relating to me the other day. The vocation of these early navigators was a glorious one, and, when they had tracked their way over so many thousand miles of pathless water, and found themselves in strange seas, expecting the appearance of land, hitherto unknown to the civilised world, they must have felt the importance of their mission as discoverers." "No doubt, Frank," she replied; "and probably, it was this that supported the great man you have just named, in the severe trials he was obliged to endure, on the very eve of the discovery that was to render his name famous to all generations. He had endured intolerable hardships, the ship had been so long without sight of land, that no one thought it worth while to look out for it, and he expected that his crew would mutiny, and insist on returning. At this critical period of his existence, first one indication of land, and then another, made itself manifest; the curiosity of the disheartened sailors became excited; hope revived in the breast of their immortal captain; a man was now induced to ascend the main-top, and his joyful cry of land woke up the slumbering spirit of the crew. In this way, a new world was first presented to the attention of the inhabitants of the old." "It appears to me very unjust," I observed, "that so important a discovery should have become known to us, not by the name of its original discoverer, but by that of a subsequent visitor to its shores." "Undoubtedly," said Mrs Reichardt, "it is apparently unfair that Americus Vespucius should obtain an honour which Christopher Columbus alone had deserved. But of the fame which is the natural right of him whose courage and enterprise procured this unrivalled acquisition, no one can deprive him. His gigantic discovery may always be known as America, but the world acknowledges its obligation to Columbus, and knows little beyond the name of his rival." "Were the immediate results of so large an addition to geographical knowledge, as beneficial to the entire human race as they ought to have been?" "I do not think they were. The vast continent then thrown open to the advance of civilisation, may be divided into two portions,--the south and the north. The former was inhabited by a harmless effeminate race, who enjoyed many of the refinements of civilisation; their knowledge of the arts, for instance, as shown to us in the ruins of their cities, was considerable; they possessed extensive buildings in a bold and ornate style of architecture; they made a lavish use of the precious metals, of which the land was extremely rich, and they wore dresses which showed a certain perfection in the manufacture of textile fabrics, and no slight degree of taste and art in their formation. "The Spaniards, who were led to this part of the continent by a desire to enrich themselves with the gold which the earliest discoverers had found in the new country in considerable quantities, invaded the territories of this peaceful people, and, by their superior knowledge of warlike weapons, and the ignorance of the intentions of their invaders that prevailed amongst the natives of all ranks, by a series of massacres, they were enabled, though comparatively but a small force, to obtain possession of the vast empire that had been established there from time immemorial, and turn it into a Spanish colony. "The blood of this harmless race flowed like water; their great Incas or Emperors were deposed and murdered, their splendid temples plundered of their riches, their nobles and priests tortured to make them change their faith, and the great mass of the people became slaves to their more warlike conquerors. It was in this way the gold of Mexico and Peru enriched the treasury of Spain; but every ingot had the curse of blood upon it, and from that time the Spanish power, then at its height, began to decline in Europe, till it sunk in the scale of nations among the least important. The colonies revolted from the mother country, and became independent states; but the curse that followed the infamous appropriation of the country, seems to cling to the descendants of the first criminals, and neither government nor people prospers; and it is evident that all these independent states must in time be absorbed by a great republic, that has sprung up by peaceable means, as it were at their side, whilst they were content to be colonies." "To what republic do you allude?" "You may remember that I told you that the entire continent was divided into south and north." "Exactly." "The history of the southern portion I have rapidly sketched for you, that of the northern you will find of a totally different character." "Pray let me hear it." "When North America was first discovered, it was found to be inhabited by a race of savages, divided into several tribes. They had no manufactures; they had no knowledge of art or science; they lived in the impenetrable woods in huts, having no pretension to architecture; they went almost entirely naked, were extremely warlike, and fond of hunting, and were known to devour the enemies they killed in battle. "To this barbarous race came a few adventurous men across the stormy Atlantic, from the distant island of England--" "Ah, England!" I exclaimed, "that is the country of my parents--that is the home of my grandfather; let me hear anything you have to say about England." Mrs Reichardt smiled at my animation, but proceeded without making any comment upon what I had said. "England possessed at this period many adventurous spirits, who were ready to dare every danger to obtain for their country a share in the honours which other lands had assumed through the enterprise of their navigators. By such men different portions of the northern continent of America were discovered; the fame of these new lands, their wonderful productiveness and admirable climate, soon spread amongst their countrymen, and from time to time various ships left the English ports with small bands of adventurers, who made what were termed settlements in the country of these savages--not by mercilessly massacring them as the Spaniards had done in the south, and then plundering them of all they possessed, but by purchasing certain districts or pieces of land from the original occupants, which they peacefully cultivated; as their numbers increased, they multiplied their habitations, and obtained by barter of the savages fresh accessions of territory." "The English showed themselves a much more humane people than the Spaniards," I observed. "But did they never come into collision with the wild natives of the country?" "Frequently," Mrs Reichardt replied; "but in some measure this was unavoidable. As new settlers from England landed in the country, they required more land; but the savages were now not inclined to barter; they had become jealous of the strangers, and were desirous of driving them back to their ships before they became too numerous. Acts of hostility were committed by the savages upon the settlers, which were often marked by great brutality: this exasperated the latter, who joined in a warlike association, and notwithstanding their numbers and daring, drove them further and further from their neighbourhood, till either by conquest, treaties, or purchase, the Englishmen or their descendants obtained the greater portion of North America." "Do they still hold possession of it?" I asked. "Up to a recent date, the whole of this vast acquisition was a colony in obedience to the government of England; but a dispute having arisen between the mother country and the colony, a struggle took place, which ended in the hatter throwing off all subjection to the laws of England. The extensive provinces joined together in a union of equal privileges and powers, which has since gone by the name of the Government of the United States of North America. This is the great republic to which I just now alluded, that is gradually absorbing the minor Southern States into its union, and threatens at no very distant date to spread the English language and the English race over the whole continent of America." "Has England then completely lost the country she colonised?" I inquired, feeling more and more interested in the subject. "No, a great portion still remains in her possession," she replied. "The people preserved their allegiance when their neighbours thought proper to rise in revolt, and are now in a state of great prosperity, governed by the laws of England, and supported by her power. The English possessions in North America form an extensive district. It is, however, but an inconsiderable fraction of the vast countries still remaining under the dominion of England. Her territories lie in every quarter of the globe; indeed the sun never sets upon this immense empire--an empire with which the conquests of Alexander, and of Caesar, or the most formidable state that existed in ancient times, cannot for a moment be compared; and when we bear in mind that in all these various climates, and in all these far-distant shores, the flag of our country affords the same protection to the colonist as he would enjoy in his own land, we may entertain some idea of the vast power that government possesses which can make itself respected at so many opposite points from the source whence it emanates." I was so much interested in this description, that I had neglected to notice the rate at which the boat was driving through the water. I now rose with great alacrity to shift the sail, as we had got several miles from the island, and if I did not take care we might be blown out of sight of land. I lost no time in putting her on another tack, but we had not proceeded far in this direction when I found the wind lull, and presently the sail drooped to the mast, and there was a dead calm. It became necessary now to take to our oars, and we were presently pulling with all our strength in the direction of land. This went on for some time till we were both tired, and I was surprised at the little progress we had made. We lay on our oars and took some refreshment, and then pulled with additional vigour; but I began to suspect that we were receding from the land instead of approaching it, and called Mrs Reichardt's attention to the fact of the island diminishing in size, notwithstanding the length of time we had been pulling towards it. "Ah, Frank," she said, in a melancholy tone of voice, "I have for some time entertained suspicions that all our strength was being expended in vain. It is very clear that we have got into a current that is every moment taking us further out to sea, and if a breeze does not soon spring up, we shall lose sight of the island, and then heaven only knows what will become of us." I shook out the sail, in hopes of its catching sufficient wind to lead us out of the current, but not a breath of air was stirring. We did not possess such a thing as a compass; our provisions were only calculated for a pleasure trip--we had only one small jar of water, and a flask of spirit, a few biscuits, two large cakes, a chicken, and some dried fish. The land was rapidly receding; I could only mark its position with respect to the sun, that now was pouring its burning rays upon our little bark. If it had not been for the awning, we could not have endured it; the heat was so oppressive. We had been obliged to give over rowing, as much from the fatigue it occasioned as from the hopelessness of our labour. We now sat with sinking hearts watching the fast-retreating land. It had become a point--it diminished to a speck, and as it disappeared from our anxious sight, the sun set in all his glory, and we were drifting at the mercy of the current we knew not where, with nothing but sky and sea all around us. CHAPTER FORTY FIVE. Vainly I stretched my eyes around the illimitable field of ocean, in hope of discerning some indication of that power whose ships I had been told traversed every sea; but nothing like a vessel was in sight--the mighty waters stretched out like an endless desert on every side. There was no sign of man in all this vast space, except our little boat; and in comparison with this space, how insignificant were the two helpless human beings who sat silent and motionless in that boat awaiting their destiny. The stars came out with marvellous brilliancy. I fancied that I had never seen them appear so bright; but probably the gloominess of my thoughts made them look brighter by contrast. I seemed the centre of a glorious system of worlds revolving above me with a calm and tranquil beauty, that appeared to reproach me for giving way to despair in a scene so lovely. The great mass of water, scarcely moved by a ripple, now appeared lit up with countless fires, and a purplish haze, like a low flame, was visible in every direction. I directed the attention of my companion to this strange appearance. Notwithstanding the intensity of her anxiety, she immediately entered into an explanation of the phenomenon, and attributed it to a peculiarly phosphoric state of the sea, caused by myriads of creatures which possess the quality of the glowworm, and rising to the surface of the water, made the latter seem as though enveloped in flame. I sat a long time watching the singular appearances that presented themselves whenever I dashed down the oar. It looked as though I was beating fire instead of water, and flame seemed to come from the oar with the drops that fell from it into the sea. In this way hours passed by: we were still floating with the current; the moon and stars were now coldly shining over our heads; the ocean around us was still gleaming with phosphoric fires, when Mrs Reichardt advised me to take some nourishment, and then endeavour to go to sleep, saying she would keep watch and apprise me if anything happened of which it might be advantageous to avail ourselves. The only thing I desired was the appearance of a vessel, or the setting in of a breeze, of which at present not a sign existed. I felt disinclined either to eat or to drink: but I proposed that my companion should make a meal and then go to sleep, as it was much more proper that I should keep watch than herself. The fact was, we were both anxious that the other should be the first to diminish our little stock of food; but as neither would be induced to do this, it was decided that our provisions should be divided into certain portions, which were only to be taken at sunrise and sunset, and that we should during the night relieve each other every three hours in keeping watch, that if we saw land, or a ship, or the wind should spring up, we might consult immediately as to our course. I only succeeded in inducing her to lie down at the bottom of the boat, to obtain a little sleep, previously to her taking my place, that I might so rest myself. She first said her usual prayers for the evening, in which I joined, and in a few minutes I was glad to hear by her regular breathing, that she was obtaining that repose of which I was certain she stood greatly in need. I was now the sole observer of the stupendous spectacle that spread out around and above me; the most sublime feature in this imposing scene appeared to be the silence which reigned supreme over all. The heavens were as mute as the sea. It looked as if the earth had been engulfed by a second deluge, and all living nature had perished utterly from the face of it. I felt a deep feeling of melancholy stealing over me, and could not forbear reproaching myself for embarking in this hazardous enterprise, and risking a life that I was bound to preserve. What could become of us both I knew not; but I was sensible that if we were not speedily picked up, or made some friendly shore, there existed but little hopes of our surviving many days. I made up my mind, that the island we should never see again; and though I had been so anxious for so many years to quit it, now that fate had separated us for ever, I could not console myself for the loss of a home endeared to me by so many recollections. But my great grief was the loss of my grandfather's diamonds. He had now no chance of having them restored to him. If they were found, they would become the property of the discoverer; and he would never know how his daughter perished on a rock, and how his grandson was swallowed up by the waters of the great deep. And then I thought of that glorious England I had so long hoped to see, and my heart sunk within me as I gazed out upon the boundless prospect. There was not a voice to murmur consolation, not a hand to offer me assistance. Was I never to see those white cliffs which had been so often described to me, that I could call them to mind as clearly as if they stood in all their pride and beauty before my eyes? How often had I dreamed of approaching the hallowed shores of England-- how often had I heard the cheerful voices of her people welcoming the Little Savage to his natural home--how often had I been embraced by my aged grandfather, and received into the happy circle of his friends, with the respect and affection due to his heir. I had dreamed happy dreams, and seen blissful visions; and the result was starvation in an open boat on the illimitable ocean. Mrs Reichardt still slept, and I would not wake her. As long as she was insensible to the dangers of her position, she must exist in comparative happiness; to disturb her was to bring her back to a sense of danger and misery, and the recollection that my folly had brought her to this hopeless state. I noticed that a small cloud was making its appearance in the horizon, and almost at the same instant I observed it, I felt a breeze that was just sufficient to flap the sail against the mast. In a few minutes the cloud had greatly increased, and the wind filled the sail. I fancied it blew in a direction contrary to the current; but in the belief that it did so, I soon got the boat round, and to my great joy she was presently scudding before the wind at a rate that was sensibly increasing. But the cloud presently began to envelop the heavens, and a thick darkness spread itself like a veil in every direction. The wind blew very fresh, and strained the mast to which the sail had been fixed; and now I began to entertain a new fear: some sudden gust might take the sail and capsize us, or tear it from its fastenings. I would gladly have taken in the sail, but I considered it as rather a hazardous experiment. Mrs Reichardt lay in a position that prevented my getting at it without disturbing her, or running the risk of tipping the boat over, when it would be sure to fill immediately, and sink with us both. Though we could both swim, I felt assured that if we were once in the water, there would remain very little chance of our protracting our lives beyond a few hours. The boat, therefore, continued to run before the wind at a rapid rate, the slight mast creaking, and the sail stretching so tight, I expected every minute that we should be upset. At this moment Mrs Reichardt awoke, and her quick eye immediately took in the full extent of our danger. "We shall be lost," she said, hurriedly, "if we do not take in that sail!" I was fully aware of this, but she had seen more of a sailor's perils than I had, and knew better how to meet them. She offered to assist me in taking in the sail, and directing me to be very careful, we proceeded, with the assistance of the awning, to the mast, and after a good deal of labour, and at some risk of being blown into the sea, we succeeded in furling the sail, and unshipping the mast. We were now in quite as much danger from another cause--the surface of the sea, which had been so smooth during the calm, was now so violently agitated by the wind, that the boat kept ascending one great billow only to descend into the trough of another. We often went down almost perpendicularly, and the height seemed every moment increasing; and every time we went thus plunging headlong into the boiling waters, I thought we should be engulfed never to rise; nevertheless, the next minute, up we ascended on the crest of some more fearful wave than any we had hitherto encountered, and down again we plunged in the dark unfathomable abyss that, walled in by foaming mountains of water, appeared yawning to close over us for ever. It was almost entirely dark; we could see only the white foam of the wave over which we were about to pass: save this, it was black below and black above, and impenetrable darkness all around. Mrs Reichardt sat close to me with her hand in mine--she uttered no exclamations of feminine terror--she was more awe-struck than frightened. I believe that she was fully satisfied her last hour had come, for I could hear her murmuring a prayer in which she commended her soul to her Creator. I cannot say that I was in any great degree alarmed--the rapid up-and-down motion of the boat gave me a sensation of pleasure I had never before experienced. To say the truth, I should have greatly enjoyed being thus at the mercy of the winds and waves, in the midst of a black and stormy night on the trackless ocean, had it not been for my constant thoughts of my companion, and my bitter self-reproaches for having led her into so terrible a danger. I was now, however, called from these reflections, by the necessity of active employment. The boat I found shipped water at every plunge, and if speedy means were not taken to keep the water under, there was little doubt that she would soon fill and go down. I therefore seized the iron kettle we had brought with us to cook our dinner, and began rapidly baling out the water, which was already over our ankles. We continued to ship water, sometimes more and sometimes less; and Mrs Reichardt, actuated no doubt by the same motives as myself, with a tin pan now assisted me in getting rid of the treacherous element. By our united exertions we kept the water under, and hoped to be able to get rid of the whole of it. About this time it began to rain very heavily, and although the awning protected our heads, so much fell into the boat, that notwithstanding our labours, we continued to sit in a pool. We were, however, glad to find that as the rain fell, the wind abated and as the latter subsided, the sea became less violent, and we shipped less water. I was now able by my own exertions to keep the boat tolerably dry, and Mrs Reichardt, ever provident, spread out all the empty vessels she had brought with her to catch the rain; for as she said, we did not know how valuable that water might become in a short time. The rain continued to pour down in a perfect torrent for several hours; at the end of which the sky gradually cleared. The sea, though still rough, presented none of those mountainous waves that a short time before had threatened to annihilate us at every descent, and there was just sufficient breeze to waft us along at a brisk rate with the assistance of our sail. Mrs Reichardt helped me in putting up the mast, and directly we began to feel the breeze, she insisted on my taking some refreshment. It was vitally necessary to both, for our labours had been heavy for several hours. We therefore ate sparingly of our provisions, and washed down our meal with a pannikin of water mingled with a little spirit. CHAPTER FORTY SIX. The morning dawned upon a boundless expanse of sea. The first object that presented itself to my sight was an enormous whale spouting water, about a quarter of a mile distant from me; then I observed another, then a third, and subsequently, several more: they presented a singular and picturesque appearance, as one or other of these vast animals was continually throwing up a column of water that caught the rays of the sun, and looked very beautiful in the distance. I looked in vain for land; I looked equally in vain for a ship; there was nothing visible but this shoal of whales, and Mrs Reichardt endeavoured to cheer me by describing the importance of the whale-fishery to England, and the perils which the men meet with who pursue the fish for the purpose of wounding them with an iron instrument called a harpoon. I felt much interest in these details; and my companion went into the whole history of a whaling expedition, describing the first discovery of the huge fish from the ship; the pursuit in the boats, and the harpooning of the whale; its struggles after having been wounded; its being towed to the ship's side; the subsequent manufacture of oil from the blubber of the animal, and the preparation of whalebone. In attending to this discourse, I completely, forgot that I was being tossed about in the open sea, I knew not where; and where I might be in a short time it would be proved I was equally ignorant: perhaps I should be a corpse floating on the surface of the ocean, waiting for a tomb till a shark came that way; perhaps I should be suffering the torments of hunger and thirst; perhaps cast lifeless upon a rock, where my bleached bones would remain the only monument which would then declare that there once existed in these latitudes, such a being as the Little Savage. Where now could be the island I, though long so anxious to quit, now was a thousand times more desirous of beholding? I felt that nothing could be more agreeable to me than a glimpse of that wild rocky coast that had so often appeared to me the walls of an intolerable prison. I strained my eyes in vain in every direction; the line of the horizon stretched out uninterrupted by a single break of any kind all around. Where could we be? I often asked myself; but except that we were on the wide ocean, neither myself nor my companion had the slightest idea of our geographical position. We must have been blown a considerable distance during the storm: much further than the current had taken us from the island. I calculated that we must have passed it by many a mile, if we had continued the same course; but the wind had shifted several times, and it might be that we were not so very long a sail from it, could we gain the slightest knowledge of the direction in which it was to be found. But this was hopeless. I felt assured that we must abandon all idea of seeing it again. In the midst of these painful reflections, my companion directed my attention to an object at a very considerable distance, and intimated her impression that it was a ship. Luckily, I had brought my glass with me, and soon was anxiously directing it to the required point. It was a ship: but at so great a distance that it was impossible, as Mrs Reichardt said, for any person on board to distinguish our boat. I would have sailed in that direction, but the wind was contrary: I had, therefore, no alternative but to wait till the ship should approach near enough to make us out; and I passed several hours of the deepest anxiety in watching the course of the distant vessel. She increased in size, so that I could observe that she was a large ship by the unassisted eye; but as we were running before the wind in a totally different direction, there seemed very little chance of our communicating, unless she altered her course. Mrs Reichardt mentioned that signals were made by vessels at a distance to attract each other's attention, and described the various ways in which they communicated the wishes of their respective captains. The only signal I had been in the habit of making was burning quantities of wood on the shore and pouring water on it to make it smoke--this was impossible in our boat. My companion at last suggested that I should tie a tablecloth to the mast; its peculiar whiteness might attract attention. The sail was presently taken in, and the tablecloth spread in its place; but, unfortunately, it soon afterwards came on a dead calm--the breeze died away, and the cloth hung in long folds against the mast. No notice whatever was taken of us. We now took to our oars and pulled in the direction of the ship; but after several hours' hard rowing, our strength had so suffered from our previous fatigues, that we seemed to have made very little distance. In a short time the sun set, and we watched the object of all our hopes with most anxious eyes, till night set in and hid her from our sight. Shortly afterwards a light breeze again sprung up; with renewed hope we gave our sail to the wind, but it bore us in a contrary direction, and when morning dawned we saw no more of the ship. The wind had now again shifted, and bore us briskly along. But where? I had fallen asleep during the preceding night, wearied out with labour and anxiety, and I did not wake till long after daybreak. Mrs Reichardt would not disturb me. In sleep I was insensible to the miseries and dangers of my position. She could not bring herself to disturb a repose that was at once so necessary to mind and body; and I fell into a sweet dream of a new home in that dear England I had prayed so often to see; and bright faces smiled upon me, and voices welcomed me, full of tenderness and affection. I fancied that in one of those faces I recognised my mother, of whose love I had so early been deprived, and that it was paler than all the others, but infinitely more tender and affectionate: then the countenance seemed to grow paler and paler, till it took upon itself the likeness of the fair creature I had buried in the guano, and I thought she embraced me, and her arms were cold as stone, and she pressed her lips to mine, and they gave a chill to my blood that made me shake as with an ague. Suddenly I beheld Jackson with his sightless orbs groping towards me with a knife in his hand, muttering imprecations, and he caught hold of me, and we had a desperate struggle, and he plunged a long knife into my chest, with a loud laugh of derision and malice; and as I felt the blade enter my flesh, I gave a start and jumped up, and alarmed Mrs Reichardt by the wild cry with which I awoke. How strongly was that dream impressed upon my mind; and the features of the different persons who figured in it--how distinctly they were brought before me! My poor mother was as fresh in my recollection as though I had seen her but yesterday, and the sweetness of her looks as she approached me--how I now tried to recall them, and feasted on their memory as though it were a lost blessing. Then the nameless corpse that had been washed from the wreck, how strange it seemed, that after this lapse of time she should appear to me in a dream, as though we had been long attached to each other, and her affections had been through life entirely my own. Poor girl! Perhaps even now some devoted lover mourns her loss; or hopes at no distant date to be able to join her in the new colony, to attain which a cruel destiny had forced her from his arms. Little does he dream of her nameless grave under the guano. Little does he dream that the only colony in which he is likely to join her, is that settlement in the great desert of oblivion, over which Death has remained governor from the birth of the world. But the most unpleasant part of the vision was the appearance of Jackson; and it was a long time before I could bring myself to believe that I had not beheld his well-known features--that I had not been stabbed by him, and that I was not suffering from the mortal wound he had inflicted. I however at last shook off the delusion, and to Mrs Reichardt's anxious inquiries replied only that I had had a disagreeable dream. In a short time I began to doubt whether the waking was more pleasant than the dreaming--the vast ocean still spread itself before me like a mighty winding-sheet, the fair sky, beautiful as it appeared in the rays of the morning sun, I could only regard as a pall--and our little bark was the coffin in which two helpless human beings, though still existing, were waiting interment. "Has God abandoned us?" I asked my companion; "or has He forgotten that two of His creatures are in the deepest peril of their lives, from which He alone can save them?" "Hush! Frank Henniker," exclaimed Mrs Reichardt, solemnly; "this is impious. God never abandons those who are worthy of His protection. He will either save them at His own appointed time--or if He think it more desirable, will snatch them from a scene where so many dangers surround them, and place them where there prevails eternal tranquillity and everlasting bliss. "We should rather rejoice," she added, with increasing seriousness, "that we are thought worthy of being so early taken from a world in which we have met with so many troubles." "But to die in this way," I observed gloomily; "to be left to linger out days of terrible torture, without a hope of relief--I cannot reconcile myself to it." "We must die sooner or later," she said, "and there are many diseases which are fatal after protracted suffering of the most agonising description. These we have been spared. The wretch who lingers in torment, visited by some loathsome disorder, would envy us, could he see the comparatively easy manner in which we are suffered to leave existence. "But I do not myself see the hopelessness of our case," she added. "It is not yet impossible that we may be picked up by a ship, or discover some friendly shore whence we might obtain a passage for England." "I see no prospect of this," said I; "we are apparently out of the track of ships, and if it should be our chance to discover one, the people on board are not likely to observe us. I wish I had never left the island." Mrs Reichardt never reproached me--never so much as reminded me that it was my own fault. She merely added, "It was the will of God." We ate and drank our small rations--my companion always blessing the meal, and offering a thanksgiving for being permitted to enjoy it. I noticed what was left. We had been extremely economical, yet there was barely enough for another day. We determined still further to reduce the trifling portion we allowed ourselves that we might increase our chance of escape. CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN. Five days and nights had we been drifting at the mercy of the winds and waves; all our small stock of food had been devoured--though we had hoarded every crumb, as the miser hoards his gold. Even the rain-water, as well as the water we had brought with us, we had drained to the last drop. The weather continually alternated from a dead calm to a light breeze: the wind frequently shifted, but I had no strength left to attend to the sail--the boat was abandoned to its own guidance, or rather to that of the wind. When becalmed, we lay still; when the breeze sprung up, we pursued our course till the sail no longer felt its influence. Five long days and nights--days of intolerable suffering, nights of inexpressible horror. From sunrise to sunset I strained my eyes along the line of the horizon, but nothing but sky and wave ever met my gaze. When it became dark, excited by the deep anxiety I had endured throughout the day, I could not sleep. I fancied I beheld through the darkness monstrous forms mocking and gibbering, and high above them all was reared the head of the enormous python I had combated in the Happy Valley. And he opened his tremendous jaws, as though to swallow me, and displayed fold upon fold of his immense form, as if to involve and crush the boat in its mighty involutions. I was always glad when the day dawned, or if the night happened to be fair and starlight; for the spectres vanished when the sun shone, and the tranquil beauty of the stars calmed my soul. I was famishing for want of food--but I suffered most from want of water, for the heat during the day was tremendous, and I became so frantic from thirst, that nothing but the exhortations of Mrs Reichardt would have prevented me from dashing myself into the sea, and drinking my fill of the salt-water that looked so tempting and refreshing. My companion sought to encourage me to hope, long after all hope had vanished--then she preached resignation to the Divine will, and in her own nature gave a practical commentary on her text. I perceived that her voice was getting more and more faint--and that she was becoming hourly more feeble. She was not able to move from her seat, and at last asked me to assist her to lie down at the bottom of the boat. Then I noticed that she prayed fervently, and I could often distinguish my name in these petitions to the throne of Grace. I felt a strange sensation in my head, and my tongue became in my mouth as a dry stick--from this I was relieved by chewing the sleeve of my shirt; but my head grew worse. My eyes too were affected in a strange manner. I continually fancied that I saw ships sailing about at a little distance from me, and I strove to attract their attention by calling to them. My voice was weak, and I could create only a kind of half-stifled cry. Then I thought I beheld land: fair forests and green pastures spread before me--bright flowers and refreshing fruits grew all around--and I called to my companion to make haste, for we were running ashore and should presently be pulling the clustering grapes and should lay ourselves down among the odorous flowers. Mrs Reichardt opened her eyes and gazed at me with a more painful interest. She knew I was haunted by the chimeras created by famine and thirst; but she seemed to have lost all power of speech. She motioned me to join her in prayer; I, however, was too much occupied with the prospect of landing, and paid no attention to her signs. Presently the bright landscape faded away, and I beheld nothing but the wide expanse of water, the circle of which appeared to expand and spread into the sky, and the sky seemed lost and broken up in the water, and for a few minutes they were mixed together in the wildest and strangest confusion. Subsequently to this I must have dropped asleep, for after a while I found myself huddled up in a corner of the boat, and must have fallen there from my seat. I stared about me for some time unconscious where I was. The bright sun still shone over my head; the everlasting sea still rolled beneath my feet. I looked to the bottom of the boat, and met the upturned gaze of my fellow voyager. The pale face had grown paler, and the expression of the painful eye had become less intelligent. I thought she was as I had seen her in my dream when she changed from her own likeness to that of the poor drowned girl we buried in the guano. I turned away my gaze--the sight was too painful to look upon. I felt assured that she was dying, and that in a very short space of time, that faithful and affectionate nature I must part from for ever. I thought I would make a last effort--though faint and trembling, burning with fever, and feeling deadly sick, I managed by the support of the awning to crawl to the mast, and embracing it with one arm, I raised the glass with the other hand, and looked carefully about. My hand was very unsteady and my eyes seemed dim. I could discern nothing but water. I should have sunk in despair to the bottom of the boat, had I not been attracted at the moment by a singular appearance in the sky. A cloud was approaching, of a shape and appearance I had never observed before. I raised the glass again, and after observing this cloud for some time with great attention, I felt assured that what I considered to be long lines of vapour was an immense flock of birds. This discovery interested me--I forgot the intensity of my sufferings in observing the motions of this apparently endless flock. As the first file approached, I looked again, to see if I could make out what they were. God of Heaven! They were gannets. I crawled back to my companion as rapidly as my feeble limbs would allow, to inform her of the discovery I had made. Alas! I found that I was unheeded. I could not believe that her fine spirit had fled: no, she moved her hand; but the dull spiritless gaze seemed to warn me that her dissolution was fast approaching. I looked for the spirit-flask, and found a few drops were still left there; I poured these into her mouth, and watched the result with the deepest anxiety I had ever known since the day of my birth. In a few minutes I found that she breathed more regularly and distinctly--presently her eyes lost that fixedness which had made them so painful to look upon. Then she recognised me, and took hold of my hand, regarding me with the sweet smile with which I was so familiar. As soon as I found that consciousness had returned, I told her of the great flock of gannets that were evidently wending their way to their customary resting-place, and the hope I entertained that if they could be kept in sight, and the wind remained in the same quarter, the boat might be led by them to the place where they laid their eggs. She listened to me with attention, and evidently understood what I said. Her lips moved, and I thought she was returning thanks to God-- accepting the flight of the birds as a manifest proof that he was still watching over us. In a few minutes she seemed so much better that she could sit up. I noticed her for some time watching the gannets that now approached in one vast cloud that threatened to shut us out from the sky--she then turned her gaze in an opposite direction, and with a smile of exultation that lit up her wan face as with a glory, stretched her arm out, pointing her hand to a distant portion of the sea. My gaze quickly followed hers, and I fancied I discovered a break in the line of the horizon; but it did not look like a ship. I pointed the glass in that direction, and felt the joyful assurance that we were within sight of land. This additional discovery gave me increased strength or rather hope now dawning upon us, gave me an impulse I had not felt before. I in my turn became the consoler. I encouraged Mrs Reichardt, with all the arguments of which I was master, to think that we should soon be in safety. She smiled, and something like animation again appeared in her pale features. If I could save her, I felt I should be blessed beyond measure. Such an object was worth striving for; and I did strive. I know not how it was that I gained strength to do what I did on that day; but I felt that I was supported from on High, and as the speck of land that she had first discovered gradually enlarged itself as we approached it, my exertions to secure a speedy rescue for my companion from the jaws of death, continued to increase. The breeze remained fair, and we scudded along at a spanking rate, the gannets keeping us company all the way--evidently bound to the same shore. I kept talking to Mrs Reichardt, and endeavouring to raise her spirits with the most cheering description of what we should do when we got ashore; for God would be sure to direct us to some place where we might without difficulty recover our strength. Hitherto she had not spoken; but as soon as we began to distinguish the features of the shore we were approaching, she unclosed her lips, and again the same triumphant smile played around them. "Frank Henniker, do you know that rock?" "No!--yes!--can it be possible? O what a gracious Providence has been watching over us!" It was a rock of a remarkable shape that stood a short distance from the fishing-pool. It could not be otherwise, the gannets had led us to their old haunts. We were approaching our island. I looked at my companion--she was praying. I immediately joined with her in thanksgiving for the signal mercy that had been vouchsafed to us, and in little more than an hour had the priceless satisfaction of carrying her from the shore to the cottage, and then we carefully nursed ourselves till we recovered the effects of this dreadful cruise. CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT. My numerous pursuits, as I stated in a preceding chapter, obliging me to constant occupation, kept me from useless repining about my destiny, in being obliged to live so many years on this far-distant corner of the earth. I had long ceased to look for passing ships--I scarcely ever thought about them, and had given up all speculations about my grandfather's reception of me. I rarely went out to sea, except to fish, and never cared to trouble myself about anything beyond the limited space which had become my inheritance. The reader, then, may judge of my surprise when, one sultry day, I had been busily engaged for several hours cutting down a field of wheat, Mrs Reichardt came running to me with the astounding news that there was a ship off the island, and a boat full of people had just left her and were rowing towards the rocks. I hastily took the glass she had brought with her, and as soon as I could get to a convenient position, threw myself on the ground on the rock, and reconnoitred through the glass the appearance of the newcomers. I soon noticed that a part were well armed, which was not the case with the rest, for they were pinioned in such a manner that they could scarcely move hand or foot. We concealed ourselves by lying our lengths on the grass. As the boat approached, I could discern that the unarmed party belonged to a superior class of men, while many of the others had countenances that did not prepossess me at all in their favour. We lay hid in the long grass, from which we could command a view of our approaching visitors. "I think I understand this," whispered Mrs Reichardt. "There is mischief here." "Had I not better run home and get arms?" I asked. "No," she replied, "you had better not. If we are able to do any good, we must do it by stratagem. Let us watch their movements, and act with great caution." My companion's advice was, I saw, the wisest that could be pursued; and therefore we remained in our hiding-places, narrowly observing our visitors as they approached. They entered the fishing-pool, and I could then distinctly not only see, but hear them. To my extreme surprise, one of the first men who jumped out of the boat was John Gough, who had brought Mrs Reichardt to the island. He looked older, but I recognised him in a moment, and so did my companion. Her admonitory "Hush!" kept me from betraying the place of our concealment--so great was my astonishment, having long believed him and all his lawless associates to have been lost at sea. He was well armed, and evidently possessed some authority; nevertheless, I thought I could detect an air of concern in his features, as he offered to help one of the captives out of the boat. The latter, however, regarded him with an air of disdain, and, though his hands were tied behind him, leaped ashore without assistance. He was a man of commanding stature, with a well-bronzed face, and a look of great energy of character. He wore a band of gold lace round his cap, and had on duck trousers, and a blue jacket and waistcoat. "Come, Captain!" exclaimed John Gough, "I bear you no malice. Though you have been rather hard upon us, we won't leave you to starve." "He's a deuced deal better off than he desarves to be," cried a man from the boat, whom I at once recognised as the fellow on whom I had drawn my knife for hurting Nero. "If we had made him walk the plank, as I proposed, I'm blowed if it wouldn't have been much more to the purpose than putting him on this here island, with lots o' prog, and everything calkilated to make him and his domineering officers comfortable for the rest of their days." "Hold your tongue, you mutineering rascal," exclaimed the Captain, angrily; "a rope's end at the yard-arm will be your deserts before long." "Thank ye kindly, Captain," replied the fellow, touching his hat in mockery. "But you must be pleased to remember I ain't caught yet; and we means to have many a jolly cruise in your ship, and get no end o' treasure, before I shall think o' my latter end; and then I means to die like a Christian, and repent o' my sins, and make a much more edifying example than I should exhibit dangling at the end of a rope." The men laughed, the Captain muttered something about "pirates and mutineers," but the rest of the officers wisely held their tongues. I now noticed an elderly man of very respectable appearance, who was not pinioned like the rest. His hair was quite white, his complexion very pale, and he looked like one oppressed with deep sorrow and anxiety. He rose from his seat in the boat, and was assisted out by John Gough. "I'm very sorry that we are obliged to leave you here, Mr Evelyn," said Gough, "but you see sir, we have no alternative. We couldn't keep you with us, for many reasons; and therefore we have been obliged to make you a sharer in the fate of our officers." "And werry painful this is to our feelings, sir, you may believe," said another of the mutineers, mockingly. "I'm quite moloncholy as I thinks on it." The men again laughed; but the person so addressed walked to the side of the Captain without making any observation. The other captives also left the boat in silence. They were eight in all, but four of them were evidently common seamen by their dress--the others were officers. All were well-made strong men. "What a precious pretty colony you'll make, my hearties!" exclaimed one of the mutineers, jeeringly, as he helped to land a cask, and some other packages, that they had brought with them. "It's a thousand pities you ain't got no female associates, that you might marry, and settle, and bring up respectable families." "Talking of women," cried the one who had first spoken, "I wonder what became of the one we left here so cleverly when we was wrecked at this here place six years ago." John Gough looked uneasy at this inquiry, as if the recollection was not agreeable to him. "And the Little Savage," continued the fellow, "what was a-going to send his knife into my ribs for summat or other--I forget what. They must have died long ago, I ain't no doubt, as we unfortnitely left 'em nothin' to live upon." "No doubt they died hand in hand, like the Babes in the Wood," said another. I still observed John Gough; he seemed distressed at the turn the conversation had taken. "Now, mates," he said, hurriedly, "let us return to the ship. We have done what we came to do." "I votes as we shall go and see arter the missionary's woman and the Little Savage," cried the fourth. "I should like, somehow, to see whether they be living or not, and a stroll ashore won't do any on us any harm." "I shall remain here till you return," said John Gough; and he threw himself on the grass with his back towards me, and only a few yards from the place in which we were concealed. The rest, after making fast the boat, started off on an exploring expedition, in the direction of the old hut. CHAPTER FORTY NINE. The captives were grouped together, some sitting, and some standing. Not one of them looked dejected at his fate; though I could see by their movements that they were impatient of the bonds that tied them. My attention was most frequently directed to the old gentleman who had been addressed as Mr Evelyn. Notwithstanding the grief expressed in his countenance, it possessed an air of benevolence and kindness of heart that even his settled melancholy did not conceal. I could not understand why, but I felt a deeper interest for this person than for any of the others--a sort of yearning towards him, mingled with a desire to protect him from the malice of his enemies. Almost as soon as they were gone, John Gough beckoned to Mr Evelyn to sit down by his side. Possibly this was done to prevent his assisting his companions to regain their liberty, as he, not being pinioned like the rest, might easily have done, and they might have overpowered their guard before his companions could come to his assistance. But Gough was well armed, and the rest being without weapons of any kind, it was scarcely probable that they would have risked their lives on so desperate an attempt. Mr Evelyn came and quietly sat himself down in the place indicated. I observed him with increasing interest, and, singular to relate, the more I gazed on his venerable face, the more strongly I felt assured that I had seen it before. This of course was impossible; nevertheless, the fancy took possession of me, and I experienced a strange sensation of pleasure as I watched the changes his features underwent. "John Gough, I am sorry to see you mixed up in this miserable business," said he, mildly addressing his companion. The other did not answer, and as his back was turned towards me, I could not observe the effect the observation had upon him. "The men who have left us, I know to be bad men," continued the speaker; "I expect nothing but wickedness from them. But you, I am aware, have been better brought up. Your responsibility therefore becomes the greater in assisting them in their villainy." "You had better not let them hear you, Mr Evelyn," replied Gough, at last, in something like a surly tone; "I would not answer for the consequences." "Those I do not fear," the other answered. "The results of this transaction can make very little difference to a man on the verge of the grave, who has outlived all his relatives, and has nothing left to fall back upon but the memory of his misfortunes: but to one in the prime of life like yourself, who can boast of friends and relatives who feel an interest in your good name, these results must be serious indeed. What must be the feelings of your respectable father when he learns that you have joined a gang of pirates; how intense must be the grief of your amiable mother when she hears that you have paid the penalty that must sooner or later overtake you for embracing so lawless a life." "Come, Mr Evelyn," exclaimed Gough, though with a tremulousness in his voice that betrayed the state of his feelings, "you have no right to preach to me. I have done as much as I could for you all. The men would have made short work with you if I had not interposed, and pointed out to them this uninhabited island." "Where it seems you left a poor woman to be starved to death," continued Mr Evelyn. "It was no fault of mine," replied the man; "I did all I could to prevent it." "It would have been more manly if you had remained with her on this rock, and left your cowardly associates to take their selfish course. But you are weak and irresolute, John Gough; too easily persuaded into evil, too slow to follow the impulses of good. The murder of that poor woman is as much your deed as if you had blown her brains out before you abandoned her. Indeed I do not know but what the latter would have been the less criminal." John Gough made no answer. I do not think, however, his mind was quite easy under this accusation, for he seemed restless, and kept playing with his pistols, with his eyes cast down. "Your complicity in this mutiny, too, John Gough, is equally inexcusable," continued Mr Evelyn. "It was your duty to have stood by Captain Manvers and his officers; by which you would have earned their eternal gratitude, and a handsome provision from the owners of the vessel." "It's no use talking of these things now, Mr Evelyn," said Gough, hurriedly. "I have taken my course. It is too late to turn back. Would to God," he added, dashing his hand violently against his brow, "I had had nothing to do with it." "It is never too late, John Gough, to do good," here cried out Mrs Reichardt, as she rose from her place of concealment, as much to my surprise as that of all who could observe her. But nothing could equal the astonishment of Gough when he first caught sight of her features--he sprang to his feet, leaving his pistols on the ground, and clasping his hands together, exclaimed, "Thank God, she is safe!" "Yes," she replied, approaching him and taking his hand kindly. "By an interposition of Providence you are saved from the guilt of one murder. In the name of that God who has so signally preserved you against yourself, I command you to abandon your present wicked designs." The man hesitated, but it seemed as if he could not take his gaze from her face, and it was evident that her presence exerted an extraordinary influence over him. In the mean time I had made my appearance on the scene, not less to the astonishment of the lookers-on; and my first act was to take possession of the pair of pistols that Gough had left on the ground; my next to hurry to the group of captives, who had been regarding us, in a state as it were of perfect bewilderment, and with my American knife to cut their bonds. "I will do whatever you think proper," said John Gough. "Believe me, I have been reluctantly led into this, and joined the mutiny knowing that I should have been murdered if I did not." "You must endeavour to make what amends are in your power," continued Mrs Reichardt, "by assisting your officers in recovering possession of the ship." "I will gladly assist in whatever they may think feasible," said the man. "But we must first secure the desperate fellows who have just left us; and as we are but poorly provided with weapons, that of itself will be a service of no slight danger. To get possession of the ship I am afraid will be still more hazardous; but you shall find me in the front of every danger." Here Captain Manvers and the others came up to where John Gough and Mrs Reichardt were conversing; he heard Gough's last speech, and he was going to say something, when I interposed by stating that there was no time now for explanations, for in a few minutes the fellows who had gone to the hut would return, and the only way to prepare for them was for the whole party to go to our house, to which Mrs Reichardt would lead them, where they would find plenty of arms and ammunition. In the meantime I would keep watch, and observe their motions, and by firing one of the pistols would signal to them if I was in any danger. Lastly, I recommended that the oars should be removed from the boat, to prevent the mutineers making their escape to the ship. My appearance and discourse attracted general attention. I particularly noticed that Mr Evelyn started as soon as he caught sight of me, and appeared to observe me with singular carefulness; but that, no doubt, arose from my unexpected address, and the strange way in which I had presented myself before him. The Captain approving of my proposal, the whole party, after taking away the boat's oars, moved off rapidly in the direction of the house. I again concealed myself in the grass, and waited the return of the mutineers. They did not remain away long. I could hear them approaching, for they laughed and shouted as they went along, loud enough to be heard at a considerable distance. When they began to descend the rocks, they passed so close to me, that I could hear every word that was spoken. "Well, flesh is grass, as the parson says," said Jack, "they must have died sooner or later, if we hadn't parted company with so little ceremony. But, hallo! My eyes and limbs! Where's John Gough? Where's the Captain? Where's all on 'em?" It is impossible to express the astonishment of the men on reaching the spot where they had so lately left their prisoners, and discovering that not a trace of them was to be seen. At first they imagined that they had escaped in the boat, but as soon as they saw that the boat was safe, they gave up that idea. Then they fancied John Gough had taken the prisoners to stroll a little distance inland, and they began to shout as loud as their lungs would permit them. Receiving no response, they uttered many strange ejaculations, which I could not then understand, but which I have since learned were profane oaths; and seemed at a loss what to do, whether to wander about the island in search of them, or return to their ship. Only one chanced to be for the former, and the others overruled him, not thinking it was worth their while to take so much trouble as to go rambling about in a strange place. They seemed bent on taking to the boat, when one of them suggested they might get into a scrape if they returned without their companion. They finally resolved on sitting down and waiting his return. Presently, one complained he was very sleepy, as he had been too busy mutineering to turn into his hammock the previous night, and the others acknowledged they also felt an equal want of rest from the same cause. Each began to yawn. They laid themselves at their full length along the grass, and in a short time I could hear by their snoring, as Jackson used to do, that they were asleep. I now crept stealthily towards them on my hands and knees, and they were in such a profound sleep, that I had no difficulty whatever in removing the pistols from their belts. I had just succeeded in this, when I beheld the Captain, and John Gough, and Mr Evelyn, and all the rest of them, well armed with guns and pistols, approaching the place where we were. In a few minutes afterwards the mutineers were made prisoners, without their having an opportunity of making the slightest resistance. I was much complimented by the Captain for the dexterity with which I had disarmed them; but while I was in conversation with him, it is impossible to express the surprise I felt, on seeing Mr Evelyn suddenly rush towards me from the side of Mrs Reichardt, with whom he had been talking, and embracing me with the most moving demonstrations of affection, claim me as his grandson. The mystery was soon explained. Mr Evelyn had met so many losses in business as a merchant, that he took the opportunity of a son of his old clerk--who had become a captain of a fine ship, employed in the South American trade--being about to proceed on a trading voyage to that part of the world, to sail in his vessel with a consignment of goods for the South American market. He had also another object, which was to inquire after the fate of his long-lost daughter and son-in-law, of whom he had received no certain intelligence, since the latter took ship with the diamonds he had purchased to return home. The vessel in which they sailed had never been heard of since; and Mr Evelyn had long given up all hopes of seeing either of them again, or the valuable property with which they had been intrusted. On their going to the house, he had asked Mrs Reichardt my name, stating that I so strongly resembled a very dear friend of his he believed had perished many years ago, that he felt quite an interest in me. The answer he received led to a series of the most earnest inquiries, and Mrs Reichardt satisfied him on every point, showed him all the property that had formerly been in the possession of Mrs Henniker and her husband; related Jackson's story, and convinced him, that though he had lost the daughter for whom he had mourned so long, her representative existed in the Little Savage, who was saving him from the fate for which he had been preserved by the mutineers. I have only to add, that I had the happiness of restoring to my grandfather the diamonds I had obtained from Jackson, which were no doubt very welcome to him, for they not only restored him to affluence, but made him one of the richest merchants upon Change. I was also instrumental in obtaining for the Captain the command of his ship, and of restoring discipline amongst the crew. The ringleaders of the mutiny were thrown into irons, and taken home for trial; this resulted in one or two of them being hanged by way of example, and these happened to be the men who so barbarously deserted Mrs Reichardt. She accompanied me to England in Captain Manvers' vessel; for when he heard of the obligations I owed her, my grandfather decided that she should remain with us as long as she lived. We however did not leave the island, until we had shown my grandfather, the captain, and his officers, what we had effected during our stay, and every one was surprised that we could have produced a flourishing farm upon a barren rock. I did not fail to show the places where I had had my fight with the python, and where I had been pursued by the sharks, and my narrative of both incidents seemed to astonish my hearers exceedingly. I must not forget to add, that the day before our departure, John Gough came to me privately, and requested my good offices with the Captain, that he might be left on the island. He had become a very different character to what he had previously been; and as there could be no question that the repentance he assumed was sincere, I said all I could for him. My recommendation was successful, and I transferred to John Gough all my farm, farming stock, and agricultural implements; moreover, promised to send him whatever he might further require to make his position comfortable. He expressed great gratitude, but desired nothing; only that his family might know that he was well off, and was not likely to return. Perhaps John Gough did not like the risk he ran of being tried for mutiny, or was averse to sailing with his former comrades: but whatever was the cause of his resolution, it is certain that he remained behind when the ship left the island, and may be there to this hour for all I know to the contrary. We made a quick voyage to England, and as my readers will be no doubt glad to hear, the Little Savage landed safely at Plymouth, and was soon cordially welcomed to his grandfather's house in London. FINIS. 
21721	----	THE CORAL ISLAND, BY R.M. BALLANTYNE. CHAPTER ONE. BEGINNING--MY EARLY LIFE AND CHARACTER--I THIRST FOR ADVENTURE IN FOREIGN LANDS, AND GO TO SEA. Roving has always been, and still is, my ruling passion, the joy of my heart, the very sunshine of my existence. In childhood, in boyhood, and in man's estate I have been a rover; not a mere rambler among the woody glens and upon the hill-tops of my own native land, but an enthusiastic rover throughout the length and breadth of the wide, wide world. It was a wild, black night of howling storm, the night on which I was born on the foaming bosom of the broad Atlantic Ocean. My father was a sea-captain; my grandfather was a sea-captain; my great-grandfather had been a marine. Nobody could tell positively what occupation _his_ father had followed; but my dear mother used to assert that he had been a midshipman, whose grandfather, on the mother's side, had been an admiral in the Royal Navy. At any rate, we knew that as far back as our family could be traced, it had been intimately connected with the great watery waste. Indeed, this was the case on both sides of the house; for my mother always went to sea with my father on his long voyages, and so spent the greater part of her life upon the water. Thus it was, I suppose, that I came to inherit a roving disposition. Soon after I was born, my father, being old, retired from a seafaring life, purchased a small cottage in a fishing village on the west coast of England, and settled down to spend the evening of his life on the shores of that sea which had for so many years been his home. It was not long after this that I began to show the roving spirit that dwelt within me. For some time past my infant legs had been gaining strength, so that I came to be dissatisfied with rubbing the skin off my chubby knees by walking on them, and made many attempts to stand up and walk like a man--all of which attempts, however, resulted in my sitting down violently and in sudden surprise. One day I took advantage of my dear mother's absence to make another effort; and, to my joy, I actually succeeded in reaching the doorstep, over which I tumbled into a pool of muddy water that lay before my father's cottage door. Ah, how vividly I remember the horror of my poor mother when she found me sweltering in the mud amongst a group of cackling ducks, and the tenderness with which she stripped off my dripping clothes and washed my dirty little body! From this time forth my rambles became more frequent and, as I grew older, more distant, until at last I had wandered far and near on the shore and in the woods around our humble dwelling, and did not rest content until my father bound me apprentice to a coasting-vessel and let me go to sea. For some years I was happy in visiting the seaports, and in coasting along the shores, of my native land. My Christian name was Ralph; and my comrades added to this the name of Rover, in consequence of the passion which I always evinced for travelling. Rover was not my real name; but as I never received any other, I came at last to answer to it as naturally as to my proper name. And as it is not a bad one, I see no good reason why I should not introduce myself to the reader as Ralph Rover. My shipmates were kind, good-natured fellows, and they and I got on very well together. They did, indeed, very frequently make game of and banter me, but not unkindly; and I overheard them sometimes saying that Ralph Rover was a "queer, old-fashioned fellow." This, I must confess, surprised me much; and I pondered the saying long, but could come at no satisfactory conclusion as to that wherein my old-fashionedness lay. It is true I was a quiet lad, and seldom spoke except when spoken to. Moreover, I never could understand the jokes of my companions even when they were explained to me, which dulness in apprehension occasioned me much grief. However, I tried to make up for it by smiling and looking pleased when I observed that they were laughing at some witticism which I had failed to detect. I was also very fond of inquiring into the nature of things and their causes, and often fell into fits of abstraction while thus engaged in my mind. But in all this I saw nothing that did not seem to be exceedingly natural, and could by no means understand why my comrades should call me "an old-fashioned fellow." Now, while engaged in the coasting trade I fell in with many seamen who had travelled to almost every quarter of the globe; and I freely confess that my heart glowed ardently within me as they recounted their wild adventures in foreign lands--the dreadful storms they had weathered, the appalling dangers they had escaped, the wonderful creatures they had seen both on the land and in the sea, and the interesting lands and strange people they had visited. But of all the places of which they told me, none captivated and charmed my imagination so much as the Coral Islands of the Southern Seas. They told me of thousands of beautiful, fertile islands that had been formed by a small creature called the coral insect, where summer reigned nearly all the year round, where the trees were laden with a constant harvest of luxuriant fruit, where the climate was almost perpetually delightful; yet where, strange to say, men were wild, bloodthirsty savages, excepting in those favoured isles to which the Gospel of our Saviour had been conveyed. These exciting accounts had so great an effect upon my mind that, when I reached the age of fifteen, I resolved to make a voyage to the South Seas. I had no little difficulty, at first, in prevailing on my dear parents to let me go; but when I urged on my father that he would never have become a great captain had he remained in the coasting trade, he saw the truth of what I said and gave his consent. My dear mother, seeing that my father had made up his mind, no longer offered opposition to my wishes. "But, oh Ralph!" she said on the day I bade her adieu, "come back soon to us, my dear boy; for we are getting old now, Ralph, and may not have many years to live." I will not take up my readers' time with a minute account of all that occurred before I took my final leave of my dear parents. Suffice it to say that my father placed me under the charge of an old messmate of his own, a merchant captain, who was on the point of sailing to the South Seas in his own ship, the _Arrow_. My mother gave me her blessing and a small Bible; and her last request was that I would never forget to read a chapter every day and say my prayers, which I promised, with tears in my eyes, that I would certainly do. Soon afterwards I went on board the _Arrow_, which was a fine, large ship, and set sail for the islands of the Pacific Ocean. CHAPTER TWO. THE DEPARTURE--THE SEA--MY COMPANIONS--SOME ACCOUNT OF THE WONDERFUL SIGHTS WE SAW ON THE GREAT DEEP--A DREADFUL STORM AND A FRIGHTFUL WRECK. It was a bright, beautiful, warm day when our ship spread her canvas to the breeze and sailed for the regions of the south. Oh, how my heart bounded with delight as I listened to the merry chorus of the sailors while they hauled at the ropes and got in the anchor! The captain shouted; the men ran to obey; the noble ship bent over to the breeze, and the shore gradually faded from my view; while I stood looking on, with a kind of feeling that the whole was a delightful dream. The first thing that struck me as being different from anything I had yet seen during my short career on the sea, was the hoisting of the anchor on deck and lashing it firmly down with ropes, as if we had now bid adieu to the land for ever and would require its services no more. "There, lass!" cried a broad-shouldered jack-tar, giving the fluke of the anchor a hearty slap with his hand after the housing was completed--"there, lass, take a good nap now, for we sha'n't ask you to kiss the mud again for many a long day to come!" And so it was. That anchor did not "kiss the mud" for many long days afterwards; and when at last it did, it was for the last time! There were a number of boys in the ship, but two of them were my special favourites. Jack Martin was a tall, strapping, broad-shouldered youth of eighteen, with a handsome, good-humoured, firm face. He had had a good education, was clever and hearty and lion-like in his actions, but mild and quiet in disposition. Jack was a general favourite, and had a peculiar fondness for me. My other companion was Peterkin Gay. He was little, quick, funny, decidedly mischievous, and about fourteen years old. But Peterkin's mischief was almost always harmless, else he could not have been so much beloved as he was. "Hallo, youngster!" cried Jack Martin, giving me a slap on the shoulder the day I joined the ship, "come below and I'll show you your berth. You and I are to be messmates; and I think we shall be good friends, for I like the look o' you." Jack was right. He and I, and Peterkin afterwards, became the best and staunchest friends that ever tossed together on the stormy waves. I shall say little about the first part of our voyage. We had the usual amount of rough weather and calm; also we saw many strange fish rolling in the sea, and I was greatly delighted one day by seeing a shoal of flying-fish dart out of the water and skim through the air about a foot above the surface. They were pursued by dolphins, which feed on them; and one flying-fish, in its terror, flew over the ship, struck on the rigging, and fell upon the deck. Its wings were just fins elongated; and we found that they could never fly far at a time, and never mounted into the air like birds, but skimmed along the surface of the sea. Jack and I had it for dinner, and found it remarkably good. When we approached Cape Horn, at the southern extremity of America, the weather became very cold and stormy, and the sailors began to tell stories about the furious gales and the dangers of that terrible cape. "Cape Horn," said one, "is the most horrible headland I ever doubled. I've sailed round it twice already, and both times the ship was a'most blow'd out o' the water." "I've been round it once," said another; "an' that time the sails were split, and the ropes frozen in the blocks so that they wouldn't work, and we wos all but lost." "An' I've been round it five times," cried a third; "an' every time wos wuss than another, the gales wos so tree-mendous!" "And I've been round it, no times at all," cried Peterkin with an impudent wink in his eye, "an' that time I wos blow'd inside out!" Nevertheless we passed the dreaded cape without much rough weather, and in the course of a few weeks afterwards were sailing gently, before a warm tropical breeze, over the Pacific Ocean. Thus we proceeded on our voyage--sometimes bounding merrily before a fair breeze; at other times floating calmly on the glassy wave and fishing for the curious inhabitants of the deep, all of which, although the sailors thought little of them, were strange, and interesting, and very wonderful to me. At last we came among the Coral Islands of the Pacific; and I shall never forget the delight with which I gazed--when we chanced to pass one--at the pure white, dazzling shores, and the verdant palm-trees, which looked bright and beautiful in the sunshine. And often did we three long to be landed on one, imagining that we should certainly find perfect happiness there! Our wish was granted sooner than we expected. One night, soon after we entered the tropics, an awful storm burst upon our ship. The first squall of wind carried away two of our masts, and left only the foremast standing. Even this, however, was more than enough, for we did not dare to hoist a rag of sail on it. For five days the tempest raged in all its fury. Everything was swept off the decks, except one small boat. The steersman was lashed to the wheel lest he should be washed away, and we all gave ourselves up for lost. The captain said that he had no idea where we were, as we had been blown far out of our course; and we feared much that we might get among the dangerous coral reefs which are so numerous in the Pacific. At daybreak on the sixth morning of the gale we saw land ahead; it was an island encircled by a reef of coral, on which the waves broke in fury. There was calm water within this reef, but we could see only one narrow opening into it. For this opening we steered; but ere we reached it a tremendous wave broke on our stern, tore the rudder completely off, and left us at the mercy of the winds and waves. "It's all over with us now, lads!" said the captain to the men. "Get the boat ready to launch; we shall be on the rocks in less than half-an-hour." The men obeyed in gloomy silence, for they felt that there was little hope of so small a boat living in such a sea. "Come, boys," said Jack Martin, in a grave tone, to me and Peterkin, as we stood on the quarter-deck awaiting our fate--"come, boys; we three shall stick together. You see it is impossible that the little boat can reach the shore, crowded with men. It will be sure to upset, so I mean rather to trust myself to a large oar. I see through the telescope that the ship will strike at the tail of the reef, where the waves break into the quiet water inside; so if we manage to cling to the oar till it is driven over the breakers, we may perhaps gain the shore. What say you? Will you join me?" We gladly agreed to follow Jack, for he inspired us with confidence-- although I could perceive, by the sad tone of his voice, that he had little hope; and indeed, when I looked at the white waves that lashed the reef and boiled against the rocks as if in fury, I felt that there was but a step between us and death. My heart sank within me; but at that moment my thoughts turned to my beloved mother, and I remembered those words, which were among the last that she said to me: "Ralph, my dearest child, always remember, in the hour of danger, to look to your Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. He alone is both able and willing to save your body and your soul." So I felt much comforted when I thought thereon. The ship was now very near the rocks. The men were ready with the boat, and the captain beside them giving orders, when a tremendous wave came towards us. We three ran towards the bow to lay hold of our oar, and had barely reached it when the wave fell on the deck with a crash like thunder. At the same moment the ship struck; the foremast broke off close to the deck and went over the side, carrying the boat and men along with it. Our oar got entangled with the wreck, and Jack seized an axe to cut it free; but owing to the motion of the ship, he missed the cordage and struck the axe deep into the oar. Another wave, however, washed it clear of the wreck. We all seized hold of it, and the next instant we were struggling in the wild sea. The last thing I saw was the boat whirling in the surf, and all the sailors tossed into the foaming waves. Then I became insensible. On recovering from my swoon I found myself lying on a bank of soft grass, under shelter of an overhanging rock, with Peterkin on his knees by my side, tenderly bathing my temples with water, and endeavouring to stop the blood that flowed from a wound in my forehead. CHAPTER THREE. THE CORAL ISLAND--OUR FIRST COGITATIONS AFTER LANDING AND THE RESULT OF THEM--WE CONCLUDE THAT THE ISLAND IS UNINHABITED. There is a strange and peculiar sensation experienced in recovering from a state of insensibility which is almost indescribable: a sort of dreamy, confused consciousness; a half-waking, half-sleeping condition, accompanied with a feeling of weariness, which, however, is by no means disagreeable. As I slowly recovered, and heard the voice of Peterkin inquiring whether I felt better, I thought that I must have overslept myself, and should be sent to the masthead for being lazy; but before I could leap up in haste, the thought seemed to vanish suddenly away, and I fancied that I must have been ill. Then a balmy breeze fanned my cheek; and I thought of home, and the garden at the back of my father's cottage with its luxuriant flowers, and the sweet-scented honeysuckle that my dear mother trained so carefully upon the trellised porch. But the roaring of the surf put these delightful thoughts to flight, and I was back again at sea, watching the dolphins and the flying-fish, and reefing topsails off the wild and stormy Cape Horn. Gradually the roar of the surf became louder and more distinct. I thought of being wrecked far, far away from my native land, and slowly opened my eyes to meet those of my companion Jack, who, with a look of intense anxiety, was gazing into my face. "Speak to us, my dear Ralph!" whispered Jack tenderly. "Are you better now?" I smiled and looked up, saying, "Better! Why, what do you mean, Jack? I'm quite well." "Then what are you shamming for, and frightening us in this way?" said Peterkin, smiling through his tears; for the poor boy had been really under the impression that I was dying. I now raised myself on my elbow, and putting my hand to my forehead, found that it had been cut pretty severely, and that I had lost a good deal of blood. "Come, come, Ralph," said Jack, pressing me gently backward, "lie down, my boy; you're not right yet. Wet your lips with this water; it's cool and clear as crystal. I got it from a spring close at hand. There, now, don't say a word--hold your tongue," he said, seeing me about to speak. "I'll tell you all about it, but you must not utter a syllable till you have rested well." "Oh, don't stop him from speaking, Jack!" said Peterkin, who, now that his fears for my safety were removed, busied himself in erecting a shelter of broken branches in order to protect me from the wind--which, however, was almost unnecessary, for the rock beside which I had been laid completely broke the force of the gale. "Let him speak, Jack; it's a comfort to hear that he's alive after lying there stiff and white and sulky for a whole hour, just like an Egyptian mummy.--Never saw such a fellow as you are, Ralph--always up to mischief. You've almost knocked out all my teeth and more than half-choked me, and now you go shamming dead! It's very wicked of you, indeed it is." While Peterkin ran on in this style my faculties became quite clear again, and I began to understand my position. "What do you mean by saying I half-choked you, Peterkin?" said I. "What do I mean? Is English not your mother-tongue? or do you want me to repeat it in French by way of making it clearer? Don't you remember?" "I remember nothing," said I, interrupting him, "after we were thrown into the sea." "Hush, Peterkin!" said Jack; "you're exciting Ralph with your nonsense.--I'll explain it to you. You recollect that, after the ship struck, we three sprang over the bow into the sea? Well, I noticed that the oar struck your head and gave you that cut on the brow which nearly stunned you, so that you grasped Peterkin round the neck without knowing apparently what you were about. In doing so, you pushed the telescope-- which you clung to as if it had been your life--against Peterkin's mouth--" "Pushed it against his mouth!" interrupted Peterkin; "say crammed it down his throat! Why, there's a distinct mark of the brass rim on the back of my gullet at this moment!" "Well, well, be that as it may," continued Jack, "you clung to him, Ralph, till I feared you really would choke him. But I saw that he had a good hold of the oar; so I exerted myself to the utmost to push you towards the shore, which we luckily reached without much trouble, for the water inside the reef is quite calm." "But the captain and crew, what of them?" I inquired anxiously. Jack shook his head. "Are they lost?" "No, they are not lost, I hope; but, I fear, there is not much chance of their being saved. The ship struck at the very tail of the island on which we are cast. When the boat was tossed into the sea it fortunately did not upset, although it shipped a good deal of water, and all the men managed to scramble into it; but before they could get the oars out, the gale carried them past the point and away to leeward of the island. After we landed I saw them endeavouring to pull towards us; but as they had only one pair of oars out of the eight that belonged to the boat, and as the wind was blowing right in their teeth, they gradually lost ground. Then I saw them put about and hoist some sort of sail--a blanket, I fancy, for it was too small for the boat--and in half-an-hour they were out of sight." "Poor fellows!" I murmured sorrowfully. "But the more I think about it I've better hope of them," continued Jack in a more cheerful tone. "You see, Ralph, I've read a great deal about these South Sea Islands, and I know that in many places they are scattered about in thousands over the sea, so they're almost sure to fall in with one of them before long." "I'm sure I hope so," said Peterkin earnestly. "But what has become of the wreck, Jack? I saw you clambering up the rocks there while I was watching Ralph. Did you say she had gone to pieces?" "No, she has not gone to pieces; but she has gone to the bottom," replied Jack. "As I said before, she struck on the tail of the island and stove in her bow; but the next breaker swung her clear, and she floated away to leeward. The poor fellows in the boat made a hard struggle to reach her, but long before they came near her she filled and went down. It was after she had foundered that I saw them trying to pull to the island." There was a long silence after Jack had ceased speaking, and I have no doubt that each was revolving in his mind our extraordinary position. For my part, I cannot say that my reflections were very agreeable. I knew that we were on an island, for Jack had said so; but whether it was inhabited or not, I did not know. If it should be inhabited, I felt certain, from all I had heard of South Sea Islanders, that we should be roasted alive and eaten. If it should turn out to be uninhabited, I fancied that we should be starved to death. "Oh," thought I, "if the ship had only struck on the rocks we might have done pretty well, for we could have obtained provisions from her, and tools to enable us to build a shelter; but now--alas! alas! we are lost!" These last words I uttered aloud in my distress. "Lost, Ralph!" exclaimed Jack, while a smile overspread his hearty countenance. "Saved, you should have said. Your cogitations seem to have taken a wrong road, and led you to a wrong conclusion." "Do you know what conclusion I have come to?" said Peterkin. "I have made up my mind that it's capital--first-rate--the best thing that ever happened to us, and the most splendid prospect that ever lay before three jolly young tars. We've got an island all to ourselves. We'll take possession in the name of the king. We'll go and enter the service of its black inhabitants. Of course we'll rise, naturally, to the top of affairs: white men always do in savage countries. You shall be king, Jack; Ralph, prime minister; and I shall be--" "The court-jester," interrupted Jack. "No," retorted Peterkin; "I'll have no title at all. I shall merely accept a highly responsible situation under government; for you see, Jack, I'm fond of having an enormous salary and nothing to do." "But suppose there are no natives?" "Then we'll build a charming villa, and plant a lovely garden round it, stuck all full of the most splendiferous tropical flowers; and we'll farm the land, plant, sow, reap, eat, sleep, and be merry." "But to be serious," said Jack, assuming a grave expression of countenance--which, I observed, always had the effect of checking Peterkin's disposition to make fun of everything--"we are really in rather an uncomfortable position. If this is a desert island, we shall have to live very much like the wild beasts; for we have not a tool of any kind--not even a knife." "Yes, we have _that_," said Peterkin, fumbling in his trousers pocket, from which he drew forth a small penknife with only one blade, and that was broken. "Well, that's better than nothing.--But come," said Jack, rising; "we are wasting our time in _talking_ instead of _doing_.--You seem well enough to walk now, Ralph.--Let us see what we have got in our pockets; and then let us climb some hill and ascertain what sort of island we have been cast upon, for, whether good or bad, it seems likely to be our home for some time to come." CHAPTER FOUR. WE EXAMINE INTO OUR PERSONAL PROPERTY, AND MAKE A HAPPY DISCOVERY--OUR ISLAND DESCRIBED--JACK PROVES HIMSELF TO BE LEARNED AND SAGACIOUS ABOVE HIS FELLOWS--CURIOUS DISCOVERIES--NATURAL LEMONADE! We now seated ourselves upon a rock, and began to examine into our personal property. When we reached the shore after being wrecked, my companions had taken off part of their clothes and spread them out in the sun to dry; for although the gale was raging fiercely, there was not a single cloud in the bright sky. They had also stripped off most part of my wet clothes and spread them also on the rocks. Having resumed our garments, we now searched all our pockets with the utmost care, and laid their contents out on a flat stone before us; and now that our minds were fully alive to our condition, it was with no little anxiety that we turned our several pockets inside out in order that nothing might escape us. When all was collected together, we found that our worldly goods consisted of the following articles: First, a small penknife with a single blade, broken off about the middle and very rusty, besides having two or three notches on its edge. (Peterkin said of this, with his usual pleasantry, that it would do for a saw as well as a knife, which was a great advantage.) Second, an old German-silver pencil-case without any lead in it. Third, a piece of whip-cord about six yards long. Fourth, a sailmaker's needle of a small size. Fifth, a ship's telescope, which I happened to have in my hand at the time the ship struck, and which I had clung to firmly all the time I was in the water; indeed, it was with difficulty that Jack got it out of my grasp when I was lying insensible on the shore. I cannot understand why I kept such a firm hold of this telescope. They say that a drowning man will clutch at a straw. Perhaps it may have been some such feeling in me, for I did not know that it was in my hand at the time we were wrecked. However, we felt some pleasure in having it with us now-- although we did not see that it could be of much use to us, as the glass at the small end was broken to pieces. Our sixth article was a brass ring which Jack always wore on his little finger. I never understood why he wore it; for Jack was not vain of his appearance, and did not seem to care for ornaments of any kind. Peterkin said, "it was in memory of the girl he left behind him!" But as he never spoke of this girl to either of us, I am inclined to think that Peterkin was either jesting or mistaken. In addition to these articles, we had a little bit of tinder and the clothes on our backs. These last were as follows: Each of us had on a pair of stout canvas trousers and a pair of sailors' thick shoes. Jack wore a red flannel shirt, a blue jacket, and a red Kilmarnock bonnet or nightcap, besides a pair of worsted socks, and a cotton pocket-handkerchief with sixteen portraits of Lord Nelson printed on it and a union-jack in the middle. Peterkin had on a striped flannel shirt--which he wore outside his trousers and belted round his waist, after the manner of a tunic--and a round black straw hat. He had no jacket, having thrown it off just before we were cast into the sea; but this was not of much consequence, as the climate of the island proved to be extremely mild--so much so, indeed, that Jack and I often preferred to go about without our jackets. Peterkin had also a pair of white cotton socks and a blue handkerchief with white spots all over it. My own costume consisted of a blue flannel shirt, a blue jacket, a black cap, and a pair of worsted socks, besides the shoes and canvas trousers already mentioned. This was all we had, and besides these things we had nothing else; but when we thought of the danger from which we had escaped, and how much worse off we might have been had the ship struck on the reef during the night, we felt very thankful that we were possessed of so much, although, I must confess, we sometimes wished that we had had a little more. While we were examining these things and talking about them, Jack suddenly started and exclaimed: "The oar! We have forgotten the oar!" "What good will that do us?" said Peterkin. "There's wood enough on the island to make a thousand oars." "Ay, lad," replied Jack; "but there's a bit of hoop-iron at the end of it, and that may be of much use to us." "Very true," said I; "let us go fetch it." And with that we all three rose and hastened down to the beach. I still felt a little weak from loss of blood, so that my companions soon began to leave me behind; but Jack perceived this, and, with his usual considerate good-nature, turned back to help me. This was now the first time that I had looked well about me since landing, as the spot where I had been laid was covered with thick bushes, which almost hid the country from our view. As we now emerged from among these and walked down the sandy beach together, I cast my eyes about, and truly my heart glowed within me and my spirits rose at the beautiful prospect which I beheld on every side. The gale had suddenly died away, just as if it had blown furiously till it dashed our ship upon the rocks, and had nothing more to do after accomplishing that. The island on which we stood was hilly, and covered almost everywhere with the most beautiful and richly coloured trees, bushes, and shrubs, none of which I knew the names of at that time--except, indeed, the cocoa-nut palms, which I recognised at once from the many pictures that I had seen of them before I left home. A sandy beach of dazzling whiteness lined this bright-green shore, and upon it there fell a gentle ripple of the sea. This last astonished me much, for I recollected that at home the sea used to fall in huge billows on the shore long after a storm had subsided. But on casting my glance out to sea the cause became apparent. About a mile distant from the shore I saw the great billows of the ocean rolling like a green wall, and falling with a long, loud roar upon a low coral reef, where they were dashed into white foam and flung up in clouds of spray. This spray sometimes flew exceedingly high, and every here and there a beautiful rainbow was formed for a moment among the falling drops. We afterwards found that this coral reef extended quite round the island, and formed a natural breakwater to it. Beyond this, the sea rose and tossed violently from the effects of the storm; but between the reef and the shore it was as calm and as smooth as a pond. My heart was filled with more delight than I can express at sight of so many glorious objects, and my thoughts turned suddenly to the contemplation of the Creator of them all. I mention this the more gladly, because at that time, I am ashamed to say, I very seldom thought of my Creator, although I was constantly surrounded by the most beautiful and wonderful of His works. I observed, from the expression of my companion's countenance, that he too derived much joy from the splendid scenery, which was all the more agreeable to us after our long voyage on the salt sea. There the breeze was fresh and cold; but here it was delightfully mild, and when a puff blew off the land it came laden with the most exquisite perfume that can be imagined. While we thus gazed we were startled by a loud "Huzza!" from Peterkin, and on looking towards the edge of the sea we saw him capering and jumping about like a monkey, and ever and anon tugging with all his might at something that lay upon the shore. "What an odd fellow he is, to be sure!" said Jack, taking me by the arm and hurrying forward. "Come, let us hasten to see what it is." "Here it is, boys--hurrah! Come along! Just what we want!" cried Peterkin as we drew near, still tugging with all his power. "First-rate; just the very ticket!" I need scarcely say to my readers that my companion Peterkin was in the habit of using very remarkable and peculiar phrases. And I am free to confess that I did not well understand the meaning of some of them-- such, for instance, as "the very ticket;" but I think it my duty to recount everything relating to my adventures with a strict regard to truthfulness in as far as my memory serves me, so I write, as nearly as possible, the exact words that my companions spoke. I often asked Peterkin to explain what he meant by "ticket," but he always answered me by going into fits of laughter. However, by observing the occasions on which he used it, I came to understand that it meant to show that something was remarkably good or fortunate. On coming up we found that Peterkin was vainly endeavouring to pull the axe out of the oar into which, it will be remembered, Jack struck it while endeavouring to cut away the cordage among which it had become entangled at the bow of the ship. Fortunately for us, the axe had remained fast in the oar, and even now all Peterkin's strength could not draw it out of the cut. "Ah, that is capital indeed!" cried Jack, at the same time giving the axe a wrench that plucked it out of the tough wood. "How fortunate this is! It will be of more value to us than a hundred knives, and the edge is quite new and sharp." "I'll answer for the toughness of the handle, at any rate!" cried Peterkin; "my arms are nearly pulled out of the sockets. But see here, our luck is great. There is iron on the blade." He pointed to a piece of hoop-iron as he spoke, which had been nailed round the blade of the oar to prevent it from splitting. This also was a fortunate discovery. Jack went down on his knees, and with the edge of the axe began carefully to force out the nails. But as they were firmly fixed in, and the operation blunted our axe, we carried the oar up with us to the place where we had left the rest of our things, intending to burn the wood away from the iron at a more convenient time. "Now, lads," said Jack after we had laid it on the stone which contained our little all, "I propose that we should go to the tail of the island, where the ship struck, which is only a quarter of a mile off; and see if anything else has been thrown ashore. I don't expect anything, but it is well to see. When we get back here it will be time to have our supper and prepare our beds." "Agreed!" cried Peterkin and I together, as, indeed, we would have agreed to any proposal that Jack made; for, besides his being older and much stronger and taller than either of us, he was a very clever fellow, and, I think, would have induced people much older than himself to choose him for their leader, especially if they required to be led on a bold enterprise. Now as we hastened along the white beach, which shone so brightly in the rays of the setting sun that our eyes were quite dazzled by its glare, it suddenly came into Peterkin's head that we had nothing to eat except the wild berries which grew in profusion at our feet. "What shall we do, Jack?" said he with a rueful look. "Perhaps they may be poisonous!" "No fear," replied Jack confidently. "I have observed that a few of them are not unlike some of the berries that grow wild on our own native hills. Besides, I saw one or two strange birds eating them just a few minutes ago, and what won't kill the birds won't kill us. But look up there, Peterkin," continued Jack, pointing to the branched head of a cocoa-nut palm. "There are nuts for us in all stages." "So there are!" cried Peterkin, who, being of a very unobservant nature, had been too much taken up with other things to notice anything so high above his head as the fruit of a palm-tree. But whatever faults my young comrade had, he could not be blamed for want of activity or animal spirits. Indeed, the nuts had scarcely been pointed out to him when he bounded up the tall stem of the tree like a squirrel, and in a few minutes returned with three nuts, each as large as a man's fist. "You had better keep them till we return," said Jack. "Let us finish our work before eating." "So be it, captain; go ahead!" cried Peterkin, thrusting the nuts into his trousers pocket. "In fact, I don't want to eat just now; but I would give a good deal for a drink. Oh, that I could find a spring! but I don't see the smallest sign of one hereabouts. I say, Jack, how does it happen that you seem to be up to everything? You have told us the names of half-a-dozen trees already, and yet you say that you were never in the South Seas before." "I'm not up to everything, Peterkin, as you'll find out ere long," replied Jack with a smile; "but I have been a great reader of books of travel and adventure all my life, and that has put me up to a good many things that you are, perhaps, not acquainted with." "Oh, Jack, that's all humbug! If you begin to lay everything to the credit of books, I'll quite lose my opinion of you," cried Peterkin with a look of contempt. "I've seen a lot o' fellows that were _always_ poring over books, and when they came to try to _do_ anything, they were no better than baboons!" "You are quite right," retorted Jack; "and I have seen a lot of fellows, who never looked into books at all, who knew nothing about anything except the things they had actually seen, and very little they knew even about these. Indeed, some were so ignorant that they did not know that cocoa-nuts grew on cocoa-nut trees!" I could not refrain from laughing at this rebuke, for there was much truth in it as to Peterkin's ignorance. "Humph! maybe you're right," answered Peterkin; "but I would not give _tuppence_ for a man of books if he had nothing else in him." "Neither would I," said Jack; "but that's no reason why you should run books down, or think less of me for having read them. Suppose, now, Peterkin, that you wanted to build a ship, and I were to give you a long and particular account of the way to do it, would not that be very useful?" "No doubt of it," said Peterkin, laughing. "And suppose I were to write the account in a letter instead of telling you in words, would that be less useful?" "Well--no, perhaps not." "Well, suppose I were to print it and send it to you in the form of a book, would it not be as good and useful as ever?" "Oh, bother! Jack, you're a philosopher, and that's worse than anything!" cried Peterkin with a look of pretended horror. "Very well, Peterkin, we shall see," returned Jack, halting under the shade of a cocoa-nut tree. "You said you were thirsty just a minute ago. Now jump up that tree and bring down a nut--not a ripe one; bring a green, unripe one." Peterkin looked surprised, but seeing that Jack was in earnest, he obeyed. "Now cut a hole in it with your penknife and clap it to your mouth, old fellow," said Jack. Peterkin did as he was directed, and we both burst into uncontrollable laughter at the changes that instantly passed over his expressive countenance. No sooner had he put the nut to his mouth, and thrown back his head in order to catch what came out of it, than his eyes opened to twice their ordinary size with astonishment, while his throat moved vigorously in the act of swallowing. Then a smile and a look of intense delight overspread his face, except, indeed, the mouth, which, being firmly fixed to the hole in the nut, could not take part in the expression; but he endeavoured to make up for this by winking at us excessively with his right eye. At length he stopped, and drawing a long breath, exclaimed: "Nectar! perfect nectar!--I say, Jack, you're a Briton--the best fellow I ever met in my life--Only taste that!" said he, turning to me and holding the nut to my mouth. I immediately drank, and certainly I was much surprised at the delightful liquid that flowed copiously down my throat. It was extremely cool, and had a sweet taste, mingled with acid; in fact, it was the likest thing to lemonade I ever tasted, and was most grateful and refreshing. I handed the nut to Jack, who, after tasting it, said, "Now, Peterkin, you unbeliever! I never saw or tasted a cocoa-nut in my life before, except those sold in shops at home; but I once read that the green nuts contain that stuff; and you see it is true." "And, pray," asked Peterkin, "what sort of `stuff' does the ripe nut contain?" "A hollow kernel," answered Jack, "with a liquid like milk in it; but it does not satisfy thirst so well as hunger. It is very wholesome food, I believe." "Meat and drink on the same tree!" cried Peterkin; "washing in the sea, lodging on the ground--and all for nothing! My dear boys, we're set up for life! It must be the ancient Paradise--hurrah!" and Peterkin tossed his straw hat in the air and ran along the beach, hallooing like a madman with delight. We afterwards found, however, that these lovely islands were very unlike Paradise in many things. But more of this in its proper place. We had now come to the point of rocks on which the ship had struck, but did not find a single article, although we searched carefully among the coral rocks, which at this place jutted out so far as nearly to join the reef that encircled the island. Just as we were about to return, however, we saw something black floating in a little cove that had escaped our observation. Running forward, we drew it from the water, and found it to be a long, thick, leather boot, such as fishermen at home wear; and a few paces farther on, we picked up its fellow. We at once recognised these as having belonged to our captain, for he had worn them during the whole of the storm in order to guard his legs from the waves and spray that constantly washed over our decks. My first thought on seeing them was that our dear captain had been drowned; but Jack soon put my mind more at rest on that point by saying that if the captain had been drowned with the boots on, he would certainly have been washed ashore along with them, and that he had no doubt whatever he had kicked them off while in the sea that he might swim more easily. Peterkin immediately put them on; but they were so large that, as Jack said, they would have done for boots, trousers, and vest too. I also tried them; but although I was long enough in the legs for them, they were much too large in the feet for me. So we handed them to Jack, who was anxious to make me keep them; but as they fitted his large limbs and feet as if they had been made for him, I would not hear of it, so he consented at last to use them. I may remark, however, that Jack did not use them often, as they were extremely heavy. It was beginning to grow dark when we returned to our encampment; so we put off our visit to the top of a hill till next day, and employed the light that yet remained to us in cutting down a quantity of boughs and the broad leaves of a tree of which none of us knew the name. With these we erected a sort of rustic bower, in which we meant to pass the night. There was no absolute necessity for this, because the air of our island was so genial and balmy that we could have slept quite well without any shelter; but we were so little used to sleeping in the open air that we did not quite relish the idea of lying down without any covering over us. Besides, our bower would shelter us from the night-dews or rain, if any should happen to fall. Having strewed the floor with leaves and dry grass, we bethought ourselves of supper. But it now occurred to us, for the first time, that we had no means of making a fire. "Now, there's a fix! What shall we do?" said Peterkin, while we both turned our eyes to Jack, to whom we always looked in our difficulties. Jack seemed not a little perplexed. "There are flints enough, no doubt, on the beach," said he; "but they are of no use at all without a steel. However, we must try." So saying, he went to the beach, and soon returned with two flints. On one of these he placed the tinder, and endeavoured to ignite it; but it was with great difficulty that a very small spark was struck out of the flints, and the tinder, being a bad, hard piece, would not catch. He then tried the bit of hoop-iron, which would not strike fire at all; and after that the back of the axe, with no better success. During all these trials Peterkin sat with his hands in his pockets, gazing with a most melancholy visage at our comrade, his face growing longer and more miserable at each successive failure. "Oh dear!" he sighed; "I would not care a button for the cooking of our victuals--perhaps they don't need it--but it's so dismal to eat one's supper in the dark, and we have had such a capital day that it's a pity to finish off in this glum style. Oh, I have it!" he cried, starting up: "the spy-glass--the big glass at the end is a burning-glass!" "You forget that we have no sun," said I. Peterkin was silent. In his sudden recollection of the telescope he had quite overlooked the absence of the sun. "Ah, boys, I've got it now!" exclaimed Jack, rising and cutting a branch from a neighbouring bush, which he stripped of its leaves. "I recollect seeing this done once at home. Hand me the bit of whip-cord." With the cord and branch Jack soon formed a bow. Then he cut a piece about three inches long off the end of a dead branch, which he pointed at the two ends. Round this he passed the cord of the bow, and placed one end against his chest, which was protected from its point by a chip of wood; the other point he placed against the bit of tinder, and then began to saw vigorously with the bow, just as a blacksmith does with his drill while boring a hole in a piece of iron. In a few seconds the tinder began to smoke; in less than a minute it caught fire; and in less than a quarter of an hour we were drinking our lemonade and eating cocoa-nuts round a fire that would have roasted an entire sheep, while the smoke, flames, and sparks flew up among the broad leaves of the overhanging palm-trees, and cast a warm glow upon our leafy bower. That night the starry sky looked down through the gently rustling trees upon our slumbers, and the distant roaring of the surf upon the coral reef was our lullaby. CHAPTER FIVE. MORNING, AND COGITATIONS CONNECTED THEREWITH--WE LUXURIATE IN THE SEA, TRY OUR DIVING POWERS, AND MAKE ENCHANTING EXCURSIONS AMONG THE CORAL GROVES AT THE BOTTOM OF THE OCEAN--THE WONDERS OF THE DEEP ENLARGED UPON. What a joyful thing it is to awaken on a fresh, glorious morning, and find the rising sun staring into your face with dazzling brilliancy! to hear the birds twittering in the bushes, and to hear the murmuring of a rill, or the soft, hissing ripples as they fall upon the seashore! At any time, and in any place, such sights and sounds are most charming; but more especially are they so when one awakens to them, for the first time, in a novel and romantic situation, with the soft, sweet air of a tropical climate mingling with the fresh smell of the sea, and stirring the strange leaves that flutter overhead and around one, or ruffling the plumage of the stranger birds that fly inquiringly around as if to demand what business we have to intrude uninvited on their domains. When I awoke on the morning after the shipwreck, I found myself in this most delightful condition; and as I lay on my back upon my bed of leaves, gazing up through the branches of the cocoa-nut trees into the clear blue sky, and watched the few fleecy clouds that passed slowly across it, my heart expanded more and more with an exulting gladness, the like of which I had never felt before. While I meditated, my thoughts again turned to the great and kind Creator of this beautiful world, as they had done on the previous day when I first beheld the sea and the coral reef, with the mighty waves dashing over it into the calm waters of the lagoon. While thus meditating, I naturally bethought me of my Bible, for I had faithfully kept the promise which I gave at parting to my beloved mother--that I would read it every morning; and it was with a feeling of dismay that I remembered I had left it in the ship. I was much troubled about this. However, I consoled myself with reflecting that I could keep the second part of my promise to her--namely, that I should never omit to say my prayers. So I rose quietly lest I should disturb my companions, who were still asleep, and stepped aside into the bushes for this purpose. On my return I found them still slumbering, so I again lay down to think over our situation. Just at that moment I was attracted by the sight of a very small parrot, which Jack afterwards told me was called a paroquet. It was seated on a twig that overhung Peterkin's head, and I was speedily lost in admiration of its bright-green plumage, which was mingled with other gay colours. While I looked I observed that the bird turned its head slowly from side to side and looked downwards, first with the one eye and then with the other. On glancing downwards I observed that Peterkin's mouth was wide open, and that this remarkable bird was looking into it. Peterkin used to say that I had not an atom of fun in my composition, and that I never could understand a joke. In regard to the latter, perhaps he was right; yet I think that, when they were explained to me, I understood jokes as well as most people. But in regard to the former, he must certainly have been wrong, for this bird seemed to me to be extremely funny; and I could not help thinking that if it should happen to faint, or slip its foot, and fall off the twig into Peterkin's mouth, he would perhaps think it funny too! Suddenly the paroquet bent down its head and uttered a loud scream in his face. This awoke him, and with a cry of surprise, he started up, while the foolish bird flew precipitately away. "Oh, you monster!" cried Peterkin, shaking his fist at the bird. Then he yawned, and rubbed his eyes, and asked what o'clock it was. I smiled at this question, and answered that, as our watches were at the bottom of the sea, I could not tell, but it was a little past sunrise. Peterkin now began to remember where we were. As he looked up into the bright sky, and snuffed the scented air, his eyes glistened with delight, and he uttered a faint "Hurrah!" and yawned again. Then he gazed slowly round, till, observing the calm sea through an opening in the bushes, he started suddenly up as if he had received an electric shock, uttered a vehement shout, flung off his garments, and rushing over the white sands, plunged into the water. The cry awoke Jack, who rose on his elbow with a look of grave surprise; but this was followed by a quiet smile of intelligence on seeing Peterkin in the water. With an energy that he only gave way to in moments of excitement, Jack bounded to his feet, threw off his clothes, shook back his hair, and with a lion-like spring, dashed over the sands and plunged into the sea with such force as quite to envelop Peterkin in a shower of spray. Jack was a remarkably good swimmer and diver, so that after his plunge we saw no sign of him for nearly a minute, after which he suddenly emerged, with a cry of joy, a good many yards out from the shore. My spirits were so much raised by seeing all this that I, too, hastily threw off my garments and endeavoured to imitate Jack's vigorous bound; but I was so awkward that my foot caught on a stump, and I fell to the ground. Then I slipped on a stone while running over the sand and nearly fell again, much to the amusement of Peterkin, who laughed heartily and called me a "slow coach;" while Jack cried out, "Come along, Ralph, and I'll help you!" However, when I got into the water I managed very well; for I was really a good swimmer and diver too. I could not, indeed, equal Jack, who was superior to any Englishman I ever saw; but I infinitely surpassed Peterkin, who could only swim a little, and could not dive at all. While Peterkin enjoyed himself in the shallow water and in running along the beach, Jack and I swam out into the deep water and occasionally dived for stones. I shall never forget my surprise and delight on first beholding the bottom of the sea. As I have before stated, the water within the reef was as calm as a pond; and as there was no wind, it was quite clear from the surface to the bottom, so that we could see down easily even at a depth of twenty or thirty yards. When Jack and I dived into shallower water we expected to have found sand and stones, instead of which we found ourselves in what appeared really to be an enchanted garden. The whole of the bottom of the lagoon, as we called the calm water within the reef, was covered with coral of every shape, size, and hue. Some portions were formed like large mushrooms; others appeared like the brain of a man, having stalks or necks attached to them; but the most common kind was a species of branching coral, and some portions were of a lovely pale-pink colour, others were pure white. Among this there grew large quantities of seaweed of the richest hues imaginable, and of the most graceful forms; while innumerable fishes--blue, red, yellow, green, and striped--sported in and out amongst the flower-beds of this submarine garden, and did not appear to be at all afraid of our approaching them. On darting to the surface for breath after our first dive, Jack and I rose close to each other. "Did you ever in your life, Ralph, see anything so lovely?" said Jack as he flung the spray from his hair. "Never," I replied. "It appears to me like fairy realms. I can scarcely believe that we are not dreaming." "Dreaming!" cried Jack. "Do you know, Ralph, I'm half-tempted to think that we really are dreaming! But if so, I am resolved to make the most of it and dream another dive; so here goes--down again, my boy!" We took the second dive together, and kept beside each other while under water; and I was greatly surprised to find that we could keep down much longer than I ever recollect having done in our own seas at home. I believe that this was owing to the heat of the water, which was so warm that we afterwards found we could remain in it for two and three hours at a time without feeling any unpleasant effects such as we used to experience in the sea at home. When Jack reached the bottom, he grasped the coral stems and crept along on his hands and knees, peeping under the seaweed and among the rocks. I observed him, also, pick up one or two large oysters and retain them in his grasp, as if he meant to take them up with him; so I also gathered a few. Suddenly he made a grasp at a fish with blue and yellow stripes on its back, and actually touched its tail, but did not catch it. At this he turned towards me and attempted to smile; but no sooner had he done so than he sprang like an arrow to the surface, where, on following him, I found him gasping and coughing and spitting water from his mouth. In a few minutes he recovered, and we both turned to swim ashore. "I declare, Ralph," said he, "that I actually tried to laugh under water!" "So I saw," I replied; "and I observed that you very nearly caught that fish by the tail. It would have done capitally for breakfast, if you had." "Breakfast enough here," said he, holding up the oysters as we landed and ran up the beach.--"Hallo, Peterkin! Here you are, boy! split open these fellows while Ralph and I put on our clothes. They'll agree with the cocoa-nuts excellently, I have no doubt." Peterkin, who was already dressed, took the oysters and opened them with the edge of our axe, exclaiming, "Now, that's capital! There's nothing I'm so fond of." "Ah! that's lucky," remarked Jack. "I'll be able to keep you in good order now, Master Peterkin. You know you can't dive any better than a cat. So, sir, whenever you behave ill you shall have no oysters for breakfast." "I'm very glad that our prospect of breakfast is so good," said I, "for I'm very hungry." "Here, then, stop your mouth with that, Ralph," said Peterkin, holding a large oyster to my lips. I opened my mouth and swallowed it in silence, and really it was remarkably good. We now set ourselves earnestly about our preparations for spending the day. We had no difficulty with the fire this morning as our burning-glass was an admirable one; and while we roasted a few oysters and ate our cocoa-nuts, we held a long, animated conversation about our plans for the future. What those plans were, and how we carried them into effect, the reader shall see hereafter. CHAPTER SIX. AN EXCURSION INTO THE INTERIOR IN WHICH WE MAKE MANY VALUABLE AND INTERESTING DISCOVERIES--WE GET A DREADFUL FRIGHT--THE BREAD-FRUIT TREE--WONDERFUL PECULIARITY OF SOME OF THE FRUIT-TREES--SIGNS OF FORMER INHABITANTS. Our first care, after breakfast, was to place the few articles we possessed in the crevice of a rock at the farther end of a small cave which we discovered near our encampment. This cave, we hoped, might be useful to us afterwards as a storehouse. Then we cut two large clubs off a species of very hard tree which grew near at hand. One of these was given to Peterkin, the other to me, and Jack armed himself with the axe. We took these precautions because we purposed to make an excursion to the top of the mountains of the interior, in order to obtain a better view of our island. Of course we knew not what dangers might befall us by the way, so thought it best to be prepared. Having completed our arrangements and carefully extinguished our fire, we sallied forth and walked a short distance along the sea-beach till we came to the entrance of a valley, through which flowed the rivulet before mentioned. Here we turned our backs on the sea and struck into the interior. The prospect that burst upon our view on entering the valley was truly splendid. On either side of us there was a gentle rise in the land, which thus formed two ridges, about a mile apart, on each side of the valley. These ridges--which, as well as the low grounds between them, were covered with trees and shrubs of the most luxuriant kind--continued to recede inland for about two miles, when they joined the foot of a small mountain. This hill rose rather abruptly from the head of the valley, and was likewise entirely covered, even to the top, with trees-- except on one particular spot near the left shoulder, where was a bare and rocky place of a broken and savage character. Beyond this hill we could not see, and we therefore directed our course up the banks of the rivulet towards the foot of it, intending to climb to the top, should that be possible--as, indeed, we had no doubt it was. Jack, being the wisest and boldest among us, took the lead, carrying the axe on his shoulder. Peterkin, with his enormous club, came second, as he said he should like to be in a position to defend me if any danger should threaten. I brought up the rear; but having been more taken up with the wonderful and curious things I saw at starting than with thoughts of possible danger, I had very foolishly left my club behind me. Although, as I have said, the trees and bushes were very luxuriant, they were not so thickly crowded together as to hinder our progress among them. We were able to wind in and out, and to follow the banks of the stream quite easily, although, it is true, the height and thickness of the foliage prevented us from seeing far ahead. But sometimes a jutting-out rock on the hillsides afforded us a position whence we could enjoy the romantic view and mark our progress towards the foot of the hill. I was particularly struck, during the walk, with the richness of the undergrowth in most places, and recognised many berries and plants that resembled those of my native land, especially a tall, elegantly formed fern, which emitted an agreeable perfume. There were several kinds of flowers, too; but I did not see so many of these as I should have expected in such a climate. We also saw a great variety of small birds of bright plumage, and many paroquets similar to the one, that awoke Peterkin so rudely in the morning. Thus we advanced to the foot of the hill without encountering anything to alarm us, except, indeed, once, when we were passing close under a part of the hill which was hidden from our view by the broad leaves of the banana-trees, which grew in great luxuriance in that part. Jack was just preparing to force his way through this thicket when we were startled and arrested by a strange pattering or rumbling sound, which appeared to us quite different from any of the sounds we had heard during the previous part of our walk. "Hallo!" cried Peterkin, stopping short, and grasping his club with both hands; "what's that?" Neither of us replied; but Jack seized his axe in his right hand, while with the other he pushed aside the broad leaves and endeavoured to peer amongst them. "I can see nothing," he said after a short pause. "I think it--" Again the rumbling sound came, louder than before, and we all sprang back and stood on the defensive. For myself, having forgotten my club, and not having taken the precaution to cut another, I buttoned my jacket, doubled my fists, and threw myself into a boxing attitude. I must say, however, that I felt somewhat uneasy; and my companions afterwards confessed that their thoughts at this moment had been instantly filled with all they had ever heard or read of wild beasts and savages, torturings at the stake, roastings alive, and such-like horrible things. Suddenly the pattering noise increased with tenfold violence. It was followed by a fearful crash among the bushes, which was rapidly repeated, as if some gigantic animal were bounding towards us. In another moment an enormous rock came crashing through the shrubbery, followed by a cloud of dust and small stones, and flew close past the spot where we stood, carrying bushes and young trees along with it. "Pooh! is that all?" exclaimed Peterkin, wiping the perspiration off his forehead. "Why, I thought it was all the wild men and beasts in the South Sea Islands, galloping on in one grand charge to sweep us off the face of the earth, instead of a mere stone tumbling down the mountain-side!" "Nevertheless," remarked Jack, "if that same stone had hit any of us it would have rendered the charge you speak of quite unnecessary, Peterkin." This was true, and I felt very thankful for our escape. On examining the spot more narrowly, we found that it lay close to the foot of a very rugged precipice, from which stones of various sizes were always tumbling at intervals. Indeed, the numerous fragments lying scattered all round might have suggested the cause of the sound had we not been too suddenly alarmed to think of anything. We now resumed our journey, resolving that, in our future excursions into the interior, we would be careful to avoid this dangerous precipice. Soon afterwards we arrived at the foot of the hill, and prepared to ascend it. Here Jack made a discovery which caused us all very great joy. This was a tree of a remarkably beautiful appearance, which Jack confidently declared to be the celebrated bread-fruit tree. "Is it celebrated?" inquired Peterkin with a look of great simplicity. "It is," replied Jack. "That's odd, now," rejoined Peterkin; "I never heard of it before." "Then it's not so celebrated as I thought it was," returned Jack, quietly squeezing Peterkin's hat over his eyes; "but listen, you ignorant boobie! and hear of it now." Peterkin readjusted his hat, and was soon listening with as much interest as myself while Jack told us that this tree is one of the most valuable in the islands of the south; that it bears two, sometimes three, crops of fruit in the year; that the fruit is very like wheaten bread in appearance, and that it constitutes the principal food of many of the islanders. "So," said Peterkin, "we seem to have everything ready prepared to our hands in this wonderful island--lemonade ready bottled in nuts, and loaf-bread growing on the trees!" Peterkin, as usual, was jesting; nevertheless, it is a curious fact that he spoke almost the literal truth. "Moreover," continued Jack, "the bread-fruit tree affords a capital gum, which serves the natives for pitching their canoes; the bark of the young branches is made by them into cloth; and of the wood, which is durable and of a good colour, they build their houses. So you see, lads, that we have no lack of material here to make us comfortable, if we are only clever enough to use it." "But are you sure that that's it?" asked Peterkin. "Quite sure," replied Jack; "for I was particularly interested in the account I once read of it, and I remember the description well. I am sorry, however that I have forgotten the descriptions of many other trees which I am sure we have seen to-day, if we could but recognise them. So you see, Peterkin, I'm not up to everything yet." "Never mind, Jack," said Peterkin with a grave, patronising expression of countenance, patting his tall companion on the shoulder--"never mind, Jack; you know a good deal for your age. You're a clever boy, sir--a promising young man; and if you only go on as you have begun, sir, you will--" The end of this speech was suddenly cut short by Jack tripping up Peterkin's heels and tumbling him into a mass of thick shrubs, where, finding himself comfortable, he lay still, basking in the sunshine, while Jack and I examined the bread-fruit tree. We were much struck with the deep, rich green colour of its broad leaves, which were twelve or eighteen inches long, deeply indented, and of a glossy smoothness, like the laurel. The fruit, with which it was loaded, was nearly round, and appeared to be about six inches in diameter, with a rough rind, marked with lozenge-shaped divisions. It was of various colours, from light pea-green to brown and rich yellow. Jack said that the yellow was the ripe fruit. We afterwards found that most of the fruit-trees on the island were evergreens, and that we might, when we wished, pluck the blossom and the ripe fruit from the same tree. Such a wonderful difference from the trees of our own country surprised us not a little. The bark of the tree was rough and light-coloured; the trunk was about two feet in diameter, and it appeared to be twenty feet high, being quite destitute of branches up to that height, where it branched off into a beautiful and umbrageous head. We noticed that the fruit hung in clusters of twos and threes on the branches; but as we were anxious to get to the top of the hill, we refrained from attempting to pluck any at that time. Our hearts were now very much cheered by our good fortune, and it was with light and active steps that we clambered up the steep sides of the hill. On reaching the summit a new, and if possible a grander, prospect met our gaze. We found that this was not the highest part of the island, but that another hill lay beyond, with a wide valley between it and the one on which we stood. This valley, like the first, was also full of rich trees--some dark and some light green, some heavy and thick in foliage, and others light, feathery, and graceful, while the beautiful blossoms on many of them threw a sort of rainbow tint over all, and gave to the valley the appearance of a garden of flowers. Among these we recognised many of the bread-fruit trees, laden with yellow fruit, and also a great many cocoa-nut palms. After gazing our fill we pushed down the hillside, crossed the valley, and soon began to ascend the second mountain. It was clothed with trees nearly to the top; but the summit was bare, and in some places broken. While on our way up we came to an object which filled us with much interest. This was the stump of a tree that had evidently been cut down with an axe! So, then, we were not the first who had viewed this beautiful isle. The hand of man had been at work there before us. It now began to recur to us again that perhaps the island was inhabited, although we had not seen any traces of man until now. But a second glance at the stump convinced us that we had not more reason to think so now than formerly; for the surface of the wood was quite decayed and partly covered with fungus and green matter, so that it must have been cut many years ago. "Perhaps," said Peterkin, "some ship or other has touched here long ago for wood, and only taken one tree." We did not think this likely, however, because, in such circumstances, the crew of a ship would cut wood of small size and near the shore; whereas this was a large tree, and stood near the top of the mountain. In fact, it was the highest large tree on the mountain, all above it being wood of very recent growth. "I can't understand it," said Jack, scratching the surface of the stump with his axe. "I can only suppose that the savages have been here and cut it for some purpose known only to themselves. But, hallo! what have we here?" As he spoke Jack began carefully to scrape away the moss and fungus from the stump, and soon laid bare three distinct traces of marks, as if some inscription or initials had been cut thereon. But although the traces were distinct, beyond all doubt, the exact form of the letters could not be made out. Jack thought they looked like JS, but we could not be certain. They had apparently been carelessly cut, and long exposure to the weather had so broken them up that we could not make out what they were. We were exceedingly perplexed at this discovery, and stayed a long time at the place conjecturing what these marks could have been, but without avail; so, as the day was advancing, we left it, and quickly reached the top of the mountain. We found this to be the highest point of the island, and from it we saw our kingdom lying, as it were, like a map around us. As I have always thought it impossible to get a thing properly into one's understanding without comprehending it, I shall beg the reader's patience for a little while I describe our island, thus, shortly: It consisted of two mountains: the one we guessed at five hundred feet; the other, on which we stood, at one thousand. Between these lay a rich, beautiful valley, as already said. This valley crossed the island from one end to the other, being high in the middle and sloping on each side towards the sea. The large mountain sloped, on the side farthest from where we had been wrecked, gradually towards the sea; but although, when viewed at a glance, it had thus a regular sloping appearance, a more careful observation showed that it was broken up into a multitude of very small vales--or, rather, dells and glens--intermingled with little rugged spots and small but abrupt precipices here and there, with rivulets tumbling over their edges and wandering down the slopes in little white streams, sometimes glistening among the broad leaves of the bread-fruit and cocoa-nut trees, or hiding altogether beneath the rich underwood. At the base of this mountain lay a narrow bright-green plain or meadow, which terminated abruptly at the shore. On the other side of the island, whence we had come, stood the smaller hill, at the foot of which diverged three valleys--one being that which we had ascended, with a smaller vale on each side of it, and separated from it by the two ridges before mentioned. In these smaller valleys there were no streams, but they were clothed with the same luxuriant vegetation. The diameter of the island seemed to be about ten miles, and as it was almost circular in form, its circumference must have been thirty miles-- perhaps a little more, if allowance be made for the numerous bays and indentations of the shore. The entire island was belted by a beach of pure white sand, on which laved the gentle ripples of the lagoon. We now also observed that the coral reef completely encircled the island; but it varied its distance from it here and there--in some places being a mile from the beach, in others a few hundred yards, but the average distance was half-a-mile. The reef lay very low, and the spray of the surf broke quite over it in many places. This surf never ceased its roar; for, however calm the weather might be, there is always a gentle swaying motion in the great Pacific, which, although scarce noticeable out at sea, reaches the shore at last in a huge billow. The water within the lagoon, as before said, was perfectly still. There were three narrow openings in the reef: one opposite each end of the valley which I have described as crossing the island; the other opposite our own valley, which we afterwards named the Valley of the Wreck. At each of these openings the reef rose into two small green islets, covered with bushes, and having one or two cocoa-nut palms on each. These islets were very singular, and appeared as if planted expressly for the purpose of marking the channel into the lagoon. Our captain was making for one of these openings the day we were wrecked--and would have reached it, too, I doubt not, had not the rudder been torn away. Within the lagoon were several pretty, low coral islands, just opposite our encampment; and immediately beyond these, out at sea, lay about a dozen other islands, at various distances, from half-a-mile to ten miles--all of them, as far as we could discern, smaller than ours and apparently uninhabited. They seemed to be low coral islands, raised but little above the sea, yet covered with cocoa-nut trees. All this we noted, and a great deal more, while we sat on the top of the mountain. After we had satisfied ourselves we prepared to return; but here, again, we discovered traces of the presence of man. These were a pole or staff, and one or two pieces of wood which had been squared with an axe. All of these were, however, very much decayed, and they had evidently not been touched for many years. Full of these discoveries, we returned to our encampment. On the way we fell in with the traces of some four-footed animal, but whether old or of recent date none of us were able to guess. This also tended to raise our hopes of obtaining some animal food on the island; so we reached home in good spirits, quite prepared for supper, and highly satisfied with our excursion. After much discussion, in which Peterkin took the lead, we came to the conclusion that the island was uninhabited, and went to bed. CHAPTER SEVEN. JACK'S INGENUITY--WE GET INTO DIFFICULTIES ABOUT FISHING, AND GET OUT OF THEM BY A METHOD WHICH GIVES US A COLD BATH--HORRIBLE ENCOUNTER WITH A SHARK. For several days after the excursion related in the last chapter we did not wander far from our encampment, but gave ourselves up to forming plans for the future and making our present abode comfortable. There were various causes that induced this state of comparative inaction. In the first place, although everything around us was so delightful, and we could without difficulty obtain all that we required for our bodily comfort, we did not quite like the idea of settling down here for the rest of our lives, far away from our friends and our native land. To set energetically about preparations for a permanent residence seemed so like making up our minds to saying adieu to home and friends for ever that we tacitly shrank from it, and put off our preparations, for one reason and another, as long as we could. Then there was a little uncertainty still as to there being natives on the island, and we entertained a kind of faint hope that a ship might come and take us off. But as day after day passed, and neither savages nor ships appeared, we gave up all hope of an early deliverance, and set diligently to work at our homestead. During this time, however, we had not been altogether idle. We made several experiments in cooking the cocoa-nut, most of which did not improve it. Then we removed our goods and took up our abode in the cave, but found the change so bad that we returned gladly to the bower. Besides this, we bathed very frequently, and talked a great deal--at least Jack and Peterkin did; I listened. Among other useful things, Jack, who was ever the most active and diligent, converted about three inches of the hoop-iron into an excellent knife. First, he beat it quite flat with the axe; then he made a rude handle, and tied the hoop-iron to it with our piece of whip-cord, and ground it to an edge on a piece of sandstone. When it was finished he used it to shape a better handle, to which he fixed it with a strip of his cotton handkerchief--in which operation he had, as Peterkin pointed out, torn off one of Lord Nelson's noses. However, the whip-cord, thus set free, was used by Peterkin as a fishing-line. He merely tied a piece of oyster to the end of it. This the fish were allowed to swallow, and then they were pulled quickly ashore. But as the line was very short and we had no boat, the fish we caught were exceedingly small. One day Peterkin came up from the beach, where he had been angling, and said in a very cross tone, "I'll tell you what, Jack, I'm not going to be humbugged with catching such contemptible things any longer. I want you to swim out with me on your back, and let me fish in deep water!" "Dear me, Peterkin!" replied Jack; "I had no idea you were taking the thing so much to heart, else I would have got you out of that difficulty long ago. Let me see;" and Jack looked down at a piece of timber, on which he had been labouring, with a peculiar gaze of abstraction which he always assumed when trying to invent or discover anything. "What say you to building a boat?" he inquired, looking up hastily. "Take far too long," was the reply; "can't be bothered waiting. I want to begin at once!" Again Jack considered. "I have it!" he cried. "We'll fell a large tree and launch the trunk of it in the water, so that when you want to fish you've nothing to do but to swim out to it." "Would not a small raft do better?" said I. "Much better; but we have no ropes to bind it together with. Perhaps we may find something hereafter that will do as well, but in the meantime let us try the tree." This was agreed on; so we started off to a spot, not far distant, where we knew of a tree that would suit us which grew near the water's edge. As soon as we reached it Jack threw off his coat, and wielding the axe with his sturdy arms, hacked and hewed at it for a quarter of an hour without stopping. Then he paused, and while he sat down to rest I continued the work. Then Peterkin made a vigorous attack on it; so that when Jack renewed his powerful blows, a few minutes' cutting brought it down with a terrible crash. "Hurrah! Now for it!" cried Jack. "Let us off with its head!" So saying, he began to cut through the stem again at about six yards from the thick end. This done, he cut three strong, short poles or levers from the stout branches, with which to roll the log down the beach into the sea; for, as it was nearly two feet thick at the large end, we could not move it without such helps. With the levers, however, we rolled it slowly into the sea. Having been thus successful in launching our vessel, we next shaped the levers into rude oars or paddles, and then attempted to embark. This was easy enough to do; but after seating ourselves astride the log, it was with the utmost difficulty we kept it from rolling round and plunging us into the water. Not that we minded that much; but we preferred, if possible, to fish in dry clothes. To be sure, our trousers were necessarily wet, as our legs were dangling in the water on each side of the log; but as they could be easily dried, we did not care. After half-an-hour's practice, we became expert enough to keep our balance pretty steadily. Then Peterkin laid down his paddle, and having baited his line with a whole oyster, dropped it into deep water. "Now, then, Jack," said he, "be cautious; steer clear o' that seaweed. There! that's it; gently, now--gently. I see a fellow at least a foot long down there coming to--Ha! that's it! Oh bother! he's off!" "Did he bite?" said Jack, urging the log onwards a little with his paddle. "Bite? Ay! he took it into his mouth, but the moment I began to haul he opened his jaws and let it out again." "Let him swallow it next time," said Jack, laughing at the melancholy expression of Peterkin's visage. "There he's again!" cried Peterkin, his eyes flashing with excitement. "Look out! Now, then! No! Yes! No! Why, the brute _won't_ swallow it!" "Try to haul him up by the mouth, then!" cried Jack. "Do it gently." A heavy sigh and a look of blank despair showed that poor Peterkin had tried and failed again. "Never mind, lad," said Jack in a voice of sympathy; "we'll move on and offer it to some other fish." So saying, Jack plied his paddle; but scarcely had he moved from the spot when a fish with an enormous head and a little body darted from under a rock and swallowed the bait at once. "Got him this time--that's a fact!" cried Peterkin, hauling in the line. "He's swallowed the bait right down to his tail, I declare! Oh, what a thumper!" As the fish came struggling to the surface we leaned forward to see it, and overbalanced the log. Peterkin threw his arms round the fish's neck, and in another instant we were all floundering in the water! A shout of laughter burst from us as we rose to the surface, like three drowned rats, and seized hold of the log. We soon recovered our position, and sat more warily; while Peterkin secured the fish, which had well-nigh escaped in the midst of our struggles. It was little worth having, however. But, as Peterkin remarked, it was better than the smouts he had been catching for the last two or three days; so we laid it on the log before us, and having re-baited the line, dropped it in again for another. Now, while we were thus intent upon our sport, our attention was suddenly attracted by a ripple on the sea, just a few yards away from us. Peterkin shouted to us to paddle in that direction, as he thought it was a big fish and we might have a chance of catching it. But Jack, instead of complying, said, in a deep, earnest tone of voice, which I never before heard him use, "Haul up your line, Peterkin; seize your paddle. Quick--it's a shark!" The horror with which we heard this may well be imagined; for it must be remembered that our legs were hanging down in the water, and we could not venture to pull them up without upsetting the log. Peterkin instantly hauled up the line, and grasping his paddle, exerted himself to the utmost, while we also did our best to make for shore. But we were a good way off, and the log being, as I have before said, very heavy, moved but slowly through the water. We now saw the shark quite distinctly swimming round and round us, its sharp fin every now and then protruding above the water. From its active and unsteady motions, Jack knew it was making up its mind to attack us; so he urged us vehemently to paddle for our lives, while he himself set us the example. Suddenly he shouted, "Look out! there he comes!" and in a second we saw the monstrous fish dive close under us and turn half-over on his side. But we all made a great commotion with our paddles, which, no doubt, frightened it away for that time, as we saw it immediately after circling round us as before. "Throw the fish to him!" cried Jack in a quick, suppressed voice; "we'll make the shore in time yet if we can keep him off for a few minutes." Peterkin stopped one instant to obey the command, and then plied his paddle again with all his might. No sooner had the fish fallen on the water than we observed the shark to sink. In another second we saw its white breast rising; for sharks always turn over on their sides when about to seize their prey, their mouths being not at the point of their heads like those of other fish, but, as it were, under their chins. In another moment his snout rose above the water; his wide jaws, armed with a terrific double row of teeth, appeared; the dead fish was engulfed, and the shark sank out of sight. But Jack was mistaken in supposing that it would be satisfied. In a very few minutes it returned to us, and its quick motions led us to fear that it would attack us at once. "Stop paddling!" cried Jack suddenly. "I see it coming up behind us. Now, obey my orders _quickly_. Our lives may depend on it. Ralph-- Peterkin--do your best to _balance the log_. Don't look out for the shark. Don't glance behind you. Do nothing but balance the log." Peterkin and I instantly did as we were ordered, being only too glad to do anything that afforded us a chance or a hope of escape, for we had implicit confidence in Jack's courage and wisdom. For a few seconds, that seemed long minutes to my mind, we sat thus silently; but I could not resist glancing backward, despite the orders to the contrary. On doing so, I saw Jack sitting rigid like a statue, with his paddle raised, his lips compressed, and his eyebrows bent over his eyes, which glared savagely from beneath them down into the water. I also saw the shark, to my horror, quite close under the log, in the act of darting towards Jack's foot. I could scarce suppress a cry on beholding this. In another moment the shark rose. Jack drew his leg suddenly from the water and threw it over the log. The monster's snout rubbed against the log as it passed, and revealed its hideous jaws, into which Jack instantly plunged the paddle and thrust it down its throat. So violent was this act that Jack rose to his feet in performing it; the log was thereby rolled completely over, and we were once more plunged into the water. We all rose, spluttering and gasping, in a moment. "Now, then, strike out for shore!" cried Jack.--"Here, Peterkin, catch hold of my collar, and kick out with a will!" Peterkin did as he was desired, and Jack struck out with such force that he cut through the water like a boat; while I, being free from all encumbrance, succeeded in keeping up with him. As we had by this time drawn pretty near to the shore, a few minutes more sufficed to carry us into shallow water; and finally, we landed in safety, though very much exhausted, and not a little frightened, by our terrible adventure. CHAPTER EIGHT. THE BEAUTIES OF THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA TEMPT PETERKIN TO DIVE--HOW HE DID IT--MORE DIFFICULTIES OVERCOME--THE WATER GARDEN--CURIOUS CREATURES OF THE SEA--THE TANK--CANDLES MISSED VERY MUCH, AND THE CANDLE-NUT TREE DISCOVERED--WONDERFUL ACCOUNT OF PETERKIN'S FIRST VOYAGE--CLOTH FOUND GROWING ON A TREE--A PLAN PROJECTED, AND ARMS PREPARED FOR OFFENCE AND DEFENCE--A DREADFUL CRY. Our encounter with the shark was the first great danger that had befallen us since landing on this island; and we felt very seriously affected by it, especially when we considered that we had so often unwittingly incurred the same danger before while bathing. We were now forced to take to fishing again in the shallow water until we should succeed in constructing a raft. What troubled us most, however, was that we were compelled to forego our morning swimming-excursions. We did, indeed, continue to enjoy our bathe in the shallow water; but Jack and I found that one great source of our enjoyment was gone when we could no longer dive down among the beautiful coral groves at the bottom of the lagoon. We had come to be so fond of this exercise, and to take such an interest in watching the formations of coral and the gambols of the many beautiful fish amongst the forest of red and green seaweeds, that we had become quite familiar with the appearance of the fish and the localities that they chiefly haunted. We had also become expert divers. But we made it a rule never to stay long under water at a time. Jack told me that to do so often was bad for the lungs, and instead of affording us enjoyment, would ere long do us a serious injury. So we never stayed at the bottom as long as we might have done, but came up frequently to the top for fresh air, and dived down again immediately. Sometimes, when Jack happened to be in a humorous frame, he would seat himself at the bottom of the sea on one of the brain-corals, as if he were seated on a large paddock-stool, and then make faces at me in order, if possible, to make me laugh under water. At first, when he took me unawares, he nearly succeeded, and I had to shoot to the surface in order to laugh; but afterwards I became aware of his intentions, and being naturally of a grave disposition, I had no difficulty in restraining myself. I used often to wonder how poor Peterkin would have liked to be with us; and he sometimes expressed much regret at being unable to join us. I used to do my best to gratify him, poor fellow, by relating all the wonders that we saw; but this, instead of satisfying, seemed only to whet his curiosity the more, so one day we prevailed on him to try to go down with us. But although a brave boy in every other way, Peterkin was very nervous in the water; and it was with difficulty we got him to consent to be taken down, for he could never have managed to push himself down to the bottom without assistance. But no sooner had we pulled him down a yard or so into the deep, clear water than he began to struggle and kick violently; so we were forced to let him go, when he rose out of the water like a cork, gave a loud gasp and a frightful roar, and struck out for the land with the utmost possible haste. Now all this pleasure we were to forego, and when we thought thereon, Jack and I felt very much depressed in our spirits. I could see, also, that Peterkin grieved and sympathised with us; for, when talking about this matter, he refrained from jesting and bantering us upon it. As, however, a man's difficulties usually set him upon devising methods to overcome them, whereby he often discovers better things than those he may have lost, so this our difficulty induced us to think of searching for a large pool among the rocks, where the water should be deep enough for diving, yet so surrounded by rocks as to prevent sharks from getting at us. And such a pool we afterwards found, which proved to be very much better than our most sanguine hopes anticipated. It was situated not more than ten minutes' walk from our camp, and was in the form of a small, deep bay or basin, the entrance to which, besides being narrow, was so shallow that no fish so large as a shark could get in--at least, not unless he should be a remarkably thin one. Inside of this basin, which we called our Water Garden, the coral formations were much more wonderful, and the seaweed plants far more lovely and vividly coloured, than in the lagoon itself. And the water was so clear and still that, although very deep, you could see the minutest object at the bottom. Besides this, there was a ledge of rock which overhung the basin at its deepest part, from which we could dive pleasantly, and whereon Peterkin could sit and see not only all the wonders I had described to him, but also see Jack and me creeping amongst the marine shrubbery at the bottom, like--as he expressed it--"two great white sea-monsters." During these excursions of ours to the bottom of the sea we began to get an insight into the manners and customs of its inhabitants, and to make discoveries of wonderful things, the like of which we never before conceived. Among other things, we were deeply interested with the operations of the little coral insect, which, I was informed by Jack, is supposed to have entirely constructed many of the numerous islands in the Pacific Ocean. And certainly, when we considered the great reef which these insects had formed round the island on which we were cast, and observed their ceaseless activity in building their myriad cells, it did at first seem as if this might be true; but then, again, when I looked at the mountains of the island, and reflected that there were thousands of such (many of them much higher) in the South Seas, I doubted that there must be some mistake here. But more of this hereafter. I also became much taken up with the manners and appearance of the anemones, and starfish, and crabs, and sea-urchins, and such-like creatures; and was not content with watching those I saw during my dives in the Water Garden, but I must needs scoop out a hole in the coral rock close to it, which I filled with salt water, and stocked with sundry specimens of anemones and shell-fish, in order to watch more closely how they were in the habit of passing their time. Our burning-glass, also, now became a great treasure to me, as it enabled me to magnify, and so to perceive more clearly, the forms and actions of these curious creatures of the deep. Having now got ourselves into a very comfortable condition, we began to talk of a project which we had long had in contemplation--namely, to travel entirely round the island, in order, first, to ascertain whether it contained any other productions which might be useful to us; and, second, to see whether there might be any place more convenient and suitable for our permanent residence than that on which we were now encamped. Not that we were in any degree dissatisfied with it. On the contrary, we entertained quite a home-feeling to our bower and its neighbourhood; but if a better place did exist, there was no reason why we should not make use of it. At any rate, it would be well to know of its existence. We had much earnest talk over this matter. But Jack proposed that, before undertaking such an excursion, we should supply ourselves with good defensive arms; for, as we intended not only to go round all the shore, but to descend most of the valleys, before returning home, we should be likely to meet in with--he would not say _dangers_--but at least with everything that existed on the island, whatever that might be. "Besides," said Jack, "it won't do for us to live on cocoa-nuts and oysters always. No doubt they are very excellent in their way, but I think a little animal food now and then would be agreeable as well as good for us; and as there are many small birds among the trees, some of which are probably very good to eat, I think it would be a capital plan to make bows and arrows, with which we could easily knock them over." "First-rate!" cried Peterkin. "You will make the bows, Jack, and I'll try my hand at the arrows. The fact is, I'm quite tired of throwing stones at the birds. I began the very day we landed, I think, and have persevered up to the present time, but I've never hit anything yet." "You forget," said I, "you hit me one day on the shin." "Ah, true!" replied Peterkin; "and a precious shindy you kicked up in consequence. But you were at least four yards away from the impudent paroquet I aimed at, so you see what a horribly bad shot I am." "But, Jack," said I, "you cannot make three bows and arrows before to-morrow; and would it not be a pity to waste time, now that we have made up our minds to go on this expedition?--Suppose that you make one bow and arrow for yourself, and we can take our clubs?" "That's true, Ralph. The day is pretty far advanced, and I doubt if I can make even one bow before dark. To be sure, I might work by firelight after the sun goes down." We had, up to this time, been in the habit of going to bed with the sun, as we had no pressing call to work o' nights; and, indeed, our work during the day was usually hard enough--what between fishing, and improving our bower, and diving in the Water Garden, and rambling in the woods--so that when night came we were usually very glad to retire to our beds. But now that we had a desire to work at night, we felt a wish for candles. "Won't a good blazing fire give you light enough?" inquired Peterkin. "Yes," replied Jack, "quite enough; but then it will give us a great deal more than enough of heat in this warm climate of ours." "True," said Peterkin; "I forgot that. It would roast us." "Well, as you're always doing that at any rate," remarked Jack, "we could scarcely call it a change. But the fact is, I've been thinking over this subject before. There is a certain nut growing in these islands which is called the candle-nut, because the natives use it instead of candles; and I know all about it, and how to prepare it for burning--" "Then why don't you do it?" interrupted Peterkin. "Why have you kept us in the dark so long, you vile philosopher?" "Because," said Jack, "I have not seen the tree yet, and I'm not sure that I should know either the tree or the nuts if I did see them. You see, I forget the description." "Ah! that's just the way with me," said Peterkin with a deep sigh. "I never could keep in my mind for half-an-hour the few descriptions I ever attempted to remember. The very first voyage I ever made was caused by my mistaking a description--or forgetting it, which is the same thing. And a horrible voyage it was. I had to fight with the captain the whole way out, and made the homeward voyage by swimming!" "Come, Peterkin," said I, "you can't get even _me_ to believe that." "Perhaps not, but it's true notwithstanding," returned Peterkin, pretending to be hurt at my doubting his word. "Let us hear how it happened," said Jack, while a good-natured smile overspread his face. "Well, you must know," began Peterkin, "that the very day before I went to sea I was greatly taken up with a game at hockey, which I was playing with my old school-fellows for the last time before leaving them.--You see I was young then, Ralph." Peterkin gazed, in an abstracted and melancholy manner, out to sea.--"Well, in the midst of the game, my uncle, who had taken all the bother and trouble of getting me bound 'prentice and rigged out, came and took me aside, and told me that he was called suddenly away from home, and would not be able to see me aboard, as he had intended. `However,' said he, `the captain knows you are coming, so that's not of much consequence; but as you'll have to find the ship yourself, you must remember her name and description. D'ye hear, boy?' I certainly did hear, but I'm afraid I did not understand; for my mind was so taken up with the game, which I saw my side was losing, that I began to grow impatient, and the moment my uncle finished his description of the ship and bade me good-bye I bolted back to my game, with only a confused idea of three masts, and a green-painted taffrail, and a gilt figurehead of Hercules with his club at the bow. Next day I was so much cast down with everybody saying good-bye, and a lot o' my female friends cryin' horribly over me, that I did not start for the harbour, where the ship was lying among a thousand others, till it was almost too late. So I had to run the whole way. When I reached the pier, there were so many masts, and so much confusion, that I felt quite humble-bumbled in my faculties. `Now,' said I to myself, `Peterkin, you're in a fix.' Then I fancied I saw a gilt figurehead and three masts belonging to a ship just about to start; so I darted on board, but speedily jumped on shore again when I found that two of the masts belonged to another vessel and the figurehead to a third! At last I caught sight of what I made sure was it--a fine large vessel just casting off her moorings. The taffrail was green. Three masts--yes, that must be it--and the gilt figurehead of Hercules. To be sure, it had a three-pronged pitchfork in its hand instead of a club; but that might be my uncle's mistake, or perhaps Hercules sometimes varied his weapons. `Cast off!' roared a voice from the quarter-deck. `Hold on!' cried I, rushing frantically through the crowd. `Hold on! hold on!' repeated some of the bystanders, while the men at the ropes delayed for a minute. This threw the captain into a frightful rage; for some of his friends had come down to see him off, and having his orders contradicted so flatly was too much for him. However, the delay was sufficient. I took a race and a good leap; the ropes were cast off; the steam-tug gave a puff, and we started. Suddenly the captain walks up to me: `Where did you come from, you scamp, and what do you want here?' "`Please, sir,' said I, touching my cap, `I'm your new 'prentice come aboard.' "`New 'prentice!' said he, stamping; `I've got no new 'prentice. My boys are all aboard already. This is a trick, you young blackguard! You've run away, you have!' And the captain stamped about the deck and swore dreadfully; for, you see, the thought of having to stop the ship and lower a boat and lose half-an-hour, all for the sake of sending a small boy ashore, seemed to make him very angry. Besides, it was blowin' fresh outside the harbour, so that to have let the steamer alongside to put me into it was no easy job. Just as we were passing the pier-head, where several boats were rowing into the harbour, the captain came up to me. "`You've run away, you blackguard!' he said, giving me a box on the ear. "`No, I haven't!' said I angrily, for the box was by no means a light one. "`Hark'ee, boy, can you swim?' "`Yes,' said I. "`Then do it!' and seizing me by my trousers and the nape of my neck, he tossed me over the side into the sea. The fellows in the boats at the end of the pier backed their oars on seeing this; but observing that I could swim, they allowed me to make the best of my way to the pier-head.--So you see, Ralph, that I really did swim my first homeward voyage." Jack laughed, and patted Peterkin on the shoulder. "But tell us about the candle-nut tree," said I. "You were talking about it." "Very true," said Jack; "but I fear I can remember little about it. I believe the nut is about the size of a walnut; and I think that the leaves are white, but I am not sure." "Eh! ha! hum!" exclaimed Peterkin; "I saw a tree answering to that description this very day." "Did you?" cried Jack. "Is it far from this?" "No, not half-a-mile." "Then lead me to it," said Jack, seizing his axe. In a few minutes we were all three pushing through the underwood of the forest, headed by Peterkin. We soon came to the tree in question, which, after Jack had closely examined it, we concluded must be the candle-nut tree. Its leaves were of a beautiful silvery white, and formed a fine contrast to the dark-green foliage of the surrounding trees. We immediately filled our pockets with the nuts, after which Jack said: "Now, Peterkin, climb that cocoa-nut tree and cut me one of the long branches." This was soon done; but it cost some trouble, for the stem was very high, and as Peterkin usually pulled nuts from the younger trees, he was not much accustomed to climbing the high ones. The leaf or branch was a very large one, and we were surprised at its size and strength. Viewed from a little distance, the cocoa-nut tree seems to be a tall, straight stem, without a single branch except at the top, where there is a tuft of feathery-looking leaves that seem to wave like soft plumes in the wind. But when we saw one of these leaves or branches at our feet, we found it to be a strong stalk, about fifteen feet long, with a number of narrow, pointed leaflets ranged alternately on each side. But what seemed to us the most wonderful thing about it was a curious substance resembling cloth, which was wrapped round the thick end of the stalk where it had been cut from the tree. Peterkin told us that he had the greatest difficulty in separating the branch from the stem on account of this substance, as it was wrapped quite round the tree, and, he observed, round all the other branches, thus forming a strong support to the large leaves while exposed to high winds. When I call this substance cloth I do not exaggerate. Indeed, with regard to all the things I saw during my eventful career in the South Seas, I have been exceedingly careful not to exaggerate, or in any way to mislead or deceive my readers. This cloth, I say, was remarkably like to coarse brown cotton cloth. It had a seam or fibre down the centre of it, from which diverged other fibres, about the size of a bristle. There were two layers of these fibres, very long and tough, the one layer crossing the other obliquely, and the whole was cemented together with a still finer fibrous and adhesive substance. When we regarded it attentively, we could with difficulty believe that it had not been woven by human hands. This remarkable piece of cloth we stripped carefully off, and found it to be above two feet long by a foot broad, and we carried it home with us as a great prize. Jack now took one of the leaflets, and cutting out the central spine or stalk, hurried back with it to our camp. Having made a small fire, he baked the nuts slightly and then peeled off the husks. After this he wished to bore a hole in them, which, not having anything better at hand at the time, he did with the point of our useless pencil-case. Then he strung them on the cocoa-nut spine, and on putting a light to the topmost nut we found, to our joy, that it burned with a clear, beautiful flame, upon seeing which Peterkin sprang up and danced round the fire for at least five minutes in the excess of his satisfaction. "Now, lads," said Jack, extinguishing our candle, "the sun will set in an hour, so we have no time to lose. I shall go and cut a young tree to make my bow out of, and you had better each of you go and select good strong sticks for clubs, and we'll set to work at them after dark." So saying, he shouldered his axe and went off; followed by Peterkin; while I took up the piece of newly discovered cloth, and fell to examining its structure. So engrossed was I in this that I was still sitting in the same attitude and occupation when my companions returned. "I told you so!" cried Peterkin with a loud laugh.--"Oh Ralph, you're incorrigible! See, there's a club for you. I was sure, when we left you looking at that bit of stuff, that we would find you poring over it when we came back, so I just cut a club for you as well as for myself." "Thank you, Peterkin," said I. "It was kind of you to do that instead of scolding me for a lazy fellow, as I confess I deserve." "Oh, as to that," returned Peterkin, "I'll blow you up yet if you wish it; only it would be of no use if I did, for you're a perfect mule!" As it was now getting dark we lighted our candle, and placing it in a holder made of two crossing branches inside of our bower, we seated ourselves on our leafy beds and began to work. "I intend to appropriate the bow for my own use," said Jack, chipping the piece of wood he had brought with his axe. "I used to be a pretty fair shot once.--But what's that you're doing?" he added, looking at Peterkin, who had drawn the end of a long pole into the tent, and was endeavouring to fit a small piece of the hoop-iron to the end of it. "I'm going to enlist into the Lancers," answered Peterkin. "You see, Jack, I find the club rather an unwieldy instrument for my delicately formed muscles, and I flatter myself I shall do more execution with a spear." "Well, if length constitutes power," said Jack, "you'll certainly be invincible." The pole which Peterkin had cut was full twelve feet long, being a very strong but light and tough young tree, which merely required thinning at the butt to be a serviceable weapon. "That's a very good idea," said I. "Which--this?" inquired Peterkin, pointing to the spear. "Yes," I replied. "Humph!" said he; "you'd find it a pretty tough and matter-of-fact idea if you had it stuck through your gizzard, old boy!" "I mean the idea of making it is a good one," said I, laughing. "And, now I think of it, I'll change my plan too. I don't think much of a club, so I'll make me a sling out of this piece of cloth. I used to be very fond of slinging, ever since I read of David slaying Goliath the Philistine, and I was once thought to be expert at it." So I set to work to manufacture a sling. For a long time we all worked very busily without speaking. At length Peterkin looked up. "I say, Jack, I'm sorry to say I must apply to you for another strip of your handkerchief to tie on this rascally head with. It's pretty well torn at any rate, so you won't miss it." Jack proceeded to comply with this request, when Peterkin suddenly laid his hand on his arm and arrested him. "Hist, man!" said he; "be tender! You should never be needlessly cruel if you can help it. Do try to shave past Lord Nelson's mouth without tearing it, if possible! Thanks. There are plenty more handkerchiefs on the cocoa-nut trees." Poor Peterkin! with what pleasant feelings I recall and record his jests and humorous sayings now! While we were thus engaged we were startled by a distant, but most strange and horrible, cry. It seemed to come from the sea, but was so far away that we could not clearly distinguish its precise direction. Rushing out of our bower, we hastened down to the beach and stayed to listen. Again it came, quite loud and distinct on the night air--a prolonged, hideous cry, something like the braying of an ass. The moon had risen, and we could see the islands in and beyond the lagoon quite plainly; but there was no object visible to account for such a cry. A strong gust of wind was blowing from the point whence the sound came, but this died away while we were gazing out to sea. "What can it be?" said Peterkin in a low whisper, while we all involuntarily crept closer to each other. "Do you know," said Jack, "I have heard that mysterious sound twice before, but never so loud as to-night. Indeed, it was so faint that I thought I must have merely fancied it; so, as I did not wish to alarm you, I said nothing about it." We listened for a long time for the sound again; but as it did not come, we returned to the bower and resumed our work. "Very strange!" said Peterkin quite gravely.--"Do you believe in ghosts, Ralph?" "No," I answered, "I do not. Nevertheless, I must confess that strange, unaccountable sounds, such as we have just heard, make me feel a little uneasy." "What say you to it, Jack?" "I neither believe in ghosts nor feel uneasy," he replied. "I never saw a ghost myself, and I never met with any one who had; and I have generally found that strange and unaccountable things have almost always been accounted for, and found to be quite simple, on close examination. I certainly can't imagine what _that_ sound is; but I'm quite sure I shall find out before long, and if it's a ghost I'll--I'll--" "Eat it!" cried Peterkin. "Yes, I'll eat it!--Now, then, my bow and two arrows are finished; so, if you're ready, we had better turn in." By this time Peterkin had thinned down his spear, and tied an iron point very cleverly to the end of it; I had formed a sling, the lines of which were composed of thin strips of the cocoa-nut cloth, plaited; and Jack had made a stout bow, nearly five feet long, with two arrows, feathered with two or three large plumes which some bird had dropped. They had no barbs; but Jack said that if arrows were well feathered they did not require iron points, but would fly quite well if merely sharpened at the point, which I did not know before. "A feathered arrow without a barb," said he, "is a good weapon, but a barbed arrow without feathers is utterly useless." The string of the bow was formed of our piece of whip-cord, part of which, as he did not like to cut it, was rolled round the bow. Although thus prepared for a start on the morrow we thought it wise to exercise ourselves a little in the use of our weapons before starting, so we spent the whole of the next day in practising. And it was well we did so, for we found that our arms were very imperfect, and that we were far from perfect in the use of them. First, Jack found that the bow was much too strong, and he had to thin it. Also the spear was much too heavy, and so had to be reduced in thickness, although nothing would induce Peterkin to have it shortened. My sling answered very well; but I had fallen so much out of practice that my first stone knocked off Peterkin's hat, and narrowly missed making a second Goliath of him. However, after having spent the whole day in diligent practice, we began to find some of our former expertness returning, at least Jack and I did. As for Peterkin, being naturally a neat-handed boy, he soon handled his spear well, and could run full tilt at a cocoa-nut, and hit it with great precision once out of every five times. But I feel satisfied that we owed much of our rapid success to the unflagging energy of Jack, who insisted that since we had made him captain, we should obey him; and he kept us at work from morning till night, perseveringly, at the same thing. Peterkin wished very much to run about and stick his spear into everything he passed; but Jack put up a cocoa-nut, and would not let him leave off running at that for a moment except when he wanted to rest. We laughed at Jack for this, but we were both convinced that it did us much good. That night we examined and repaired our arms ere we lay down to rest, although we were much fatigued, in order that we might be in readiness to set out on our expedition at daylight on the following morning. CHAPTER NINE. PREPARE FOR A JOURNEY ROUND THE ISLAND--SAGACIOUS REFLECTIONS-- MYSTERIOUS APPEARANCES AND STARTLING OCCURRENCES. Scarcely had the sun shot its first ray across the bosom of the broad Pacific when Jack sprang to his feet, and hallooing in Peterkin's ear to awaken him, ran down the beach to take his customary dip in the sea. We did not, as was our wont, bathe that morning in our Water Garden, but in order to save time, refreshed ourselves in the shallow water just opposite the bower. Our breakfast was also despatched without loss of time, and in less than an hour afterwards all our preparations for the journey were completed. In addition to his ordinary dress, Jack tied a belt of cocoa-nut cloth round his waist, into which he thrust the axe. I was also advised to put on a belt and carry a short cudgel or bludgeon in it, for, as Jack truly remarked, the sling would be of little use if we should chance to come to close quarters with any wild animal. As for Peterkin, notwithstanding that he carried such a long and, I must add, frightful-looking spear over his shoulder, we could not prevail on him to leave his club behind; "for," said he, "a spear at close quarters is not worth a button." I must say that it seemed to me that the club was, to use his own style of language, not worth a button-hole; for it was all knotted over at the head, something like the club which I remember to have observed in picture-books of Jack the Giant-killer, besides being so heavy that he required to grasp it with both hands in order to wield it at all. However, he took it with him, and in this manner we set out upon our travels. We did not consider it necessary to carry any food with us, as we knew that wherever we went we should be certain to fall in with cocoa-nut trees--having which we were amply supplied, as Peterkin said, with meat and drink and pocket-handkerchiefs! I took the precaution, however, to put the burning-glass into my pocket lest we should want fire. The morning was exceedingly lovely. It was one of that very still and peaceful sort which made the few noises that we heard seem to be quiet noises (I know no other way of expressing this idea)--noises which, so far from interrupting the universal tranquillity of earth, sea, and sky, rather tended to reveal to us how quiet the world round us really was. Such sounds as I refer to were the peculiar, melancholy--yet, it seemed to me, cheerful--plaint of sea-birds floating on the glassy waters or sailing in the sky; also the subdued twittering of little birds among the bushes, the faint ripples on the beach, and the solemn boom of the surf upon the distant coral reef. We felt very glad in our hearts as we walked along the sands, side by side. For my part, I felt so deeply overjoyed that I was surprised at my own sensations, and fell into a reverie upon the causes of happiness. I came to the conclusion that a state of profound peace and repose, both in regard to outward objects and within the soul, is the happiest condition in which man can be placed; for although I had many a time been most joyful and happy when engaged in bustling, energetic, active pursuits or amusements, I never found that such joy or satisfaction was so deep or so pleasant to reflect upon as that which I now experienced. And I was the more confirmed in this opinion when I observed--and, indeed, as told by himself--that Peterkin's happiness was also very great; yet he did not express this by dancing, as was his wont, nor did he give so much as a single shout, but walked quietly between us with his eye sparkling and a joyful smile upon his countenance. My reader must not suppose that I thought all this in the clear and methodical manner in which I have set it down here. These thoughts did indeed pass through my mind; but they did so in a very confused and indefinite manner, for I was young at that time and not much given to deep reflections. Neither did I consider that the peace whereof I write is not to be found in this world--at least in its perfection--although I have since learned that, by religion, a man may attain to a very great degree of it. I have said that Peterkin walked along the sands between us. We had two ways of walking together about our island. When we travelled through the woods we always did so in single file, as by this method we advanced with greater facility, the one treading in the other's footsteps. In such cases Jack always took the lead, Peterkin followed, and I brought up the rear. But when we travelled along the sands, which extended almost in an unbroken line of glistening white round the island, we marched abreast, as we found this method more sociable and every way more pleasant. Jack, being the tallest, walked next the sea, and Peterkin marched between us, as by this arrangement either of us could talk to him or he to us, while if Jack and I happened to wish to converse together we could conveniently do so over Peterkin's head. Peterkin used to say, in reference to this arrangement, that had he been as tall as either of us, our order of march might have been the same; for, as Jack often used to scold him for letting everything we said to him pass in at one ear and out at the other, his head could, of course, form no interruption to our discourse. We were now fairly started. Half-a-mile's walk conveyed us round a bend in the land which shut out our bower from view, and for some time we advanced at a brisk pace without speaking, though our eyes were not idle, but noted everything--in the woods, on the shore, or in the sea-- that was interesting. After passing the ridge of land that formed one side of our valley--the Valley of the Wreck--we beheld another small vale lying before us in all the luxuriant loveliness of tropical vegetation. We had indeed seen it before from the mountain-top, but we had no idea that it would turn out to be so much more lovely when we were close to it. We were about to commence the exploration of this valley when Peterkin stopped us, and directed our attention to a very remarkable appearance in advance along the shore. "What's yon, think you?" said he, levelling his spear as if he expected an immediate attack from the object in question, though it was full half-a-mile distant. As he spoke, there appeared a white column above the rocks, as if of steam or spray. It rose upwards to a height of several feet, and then disappeared. Had this been near the sea, we would not have been so greatly surprised, as it might in that case have been the surf, for at this part of the coast the coral reef approached so near to the island that in some parts it almost joined it. There was, therefore, no lagoon between, and the heavy surf of the ocean beat almost up to the rocks. But this white column appeared about fifty yards inland. The rocks at the place were rugged, and they stretched across the sandy beach into the sea. Scarce had we ceased expressing our surprise at this sight when another column flew upwards for a few seconds, not far from the spot where the first had been seen, and disappeared; and so, at long, irregular intervals, these strange sights recurred. We were now quite sure that the columns were watery, or composed of spray; but what caused them we could not guess, so we determined to go and see. In a few minutes we gained the spot, which was very rugged and precipitous, and, moreover, quite damp with the falling of the spray. We had much ado to pass over dry-shod. The ground, also, was full of holes here and there. Now, while we stood anxiously waiting for the reappearance of these waterspouts, we heard a low, rumbling sound near us, which quickly increased to a gurgling and hissing noise, and a moment afterwards a thick spout of water burst upwards from a hole in the rock and spouted into the air with much violence, and so close to where Jack and I were standing that it nearly touched us. We sprang aside, but not before a cloud of spray descended and drenched us both to the skin. Peterkin, who was standing farther off; escaped with a few drops, and burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter on beholding our miserable plight. "Mind your eye!" he shouted eagerly; "there goes another!" The words were scarcely out of his mouth when there came up a spout from another hole, which served us exactly in the same manner as before. Peterkin now shrieked with laughter; but his merriment was abruptly put a stop to by the gurgling noise occurring close to where he stood. "Where'll it spout this time, I wonder?" he said, looking about with some anxiety and preparing to run. Suddenly there came a loud hiss or snort; a fierce spout of water burst up between Peterkin's legs, blew him off his feet, enveloped him in its spray, and hurled him to the ground. He fell with so much violence that we feared he must have broken some of his bones, and ran anxiously to his assistance; but fortunately he had fallen on a clump of tangled herbage, in which he lay sprawling in a most deplorable condition. It was now our turn to laugh; but as we were not yet quite sure that he was unhurt, and as we knew not when or where the next spout might arise, we assisted him hastily to jump up and hurry from the spot. I may here add that, although I am quite certain that the spout of water was very strong, and that it blew Peterkin completely off his legs, I am not quite certain of the exact height to which it lifted him, being somewhat startled by the event, and blinded partially by the spray, so that my power of observation was somewhat impaired for the moment. "What's to be done now?" asked Peterkin ruefully. "Make a fire, lad, and dry ourselves," replied Jack. "And here is material ready to our hand," said I, picking up a dried branch of a tree as we hurried up to the woods. In about an hour after this mishap our clothes were again dried. While they were hanging up before the fire we walked down to the beach, and soon observed that these curious spouts took place immediately after the fall of a huge wave, never before it; and, moreover, that the spouts did not take place excepting when the billow was an extremely large one. From this we concluded that there must be a subterraneous channel in the rock into which the water was driven by the larger waves, and finding no way of escape except through these small holes, was thus forced up violently through them. At any rate, we could not conceive any other reason for these strange waterspouts, and as this seemed a very simple and probable one, we forthwith adopted it. "I say, Ralph, what's that in the water? Is it a shark?" said Jack just as we were about to quit the place. I immediately ran to the overhanging ledge of rock, from which he was looking down into the sea, and bent over it. There I saw a very faint, pale object of a greenish colour, which seemed to move slightly while I looked at it. "It's like a fish of some sort," said I. "Hallo, Peterkin!" cried Jack. "Fetch your spear; here's work for it!" But when we tried to reach the object, the spear proved to be too short. "There, now," said Peterkin with a sneer; "you were always telling me it was too long." Jack now drove the spear forcibly towards the object, and let go his hold. But although it seemed to be well aimed, he must have missed, for the handle soon rose again; and when the spear was drawn up, there was the pale-green object in exactly the same spot, slowly moving its tail. "Very odd!" said Jack. But although it was undoubtedly very odd, and although Jack and all of us plunged the spear at it repeatedly, we could neither hit it nor drive it away, so we were compelled to continue our journey without discovering what it was. I was very much perplexed at this strange appearance in the water, and could not get it out of my mind for a long time afterwards. However, I quieted myself by resolving that I would pay a visit to it again at some more convenient season. CHAPTER TEN. MAKE DISCOVERY OF MANY EXCELLENT ROOTS AND FRUITS--THE RESOURCES OF THE CORAL ISLAND GRADUALLY UNFOLDED--THE BANYAN TREE--ANOTHER TREE WHICH IS SUPPORTED BY NATURAL PLANKS--WATER-FOWL FOUND--A VERY REMARKABLE DISCOVERY, AND A VERY PECULIAR MURDER--WE LUXURIATE ON THE FAT OF THE LAND. Our examination of the little valley proved to be altogether most satisfactory. We found in it not only similar trees to those we had already seen in our own valley, but also one or two others of a different species. We had also the satisfaction of discovering a peculiar vegetable, which, Jack concluded, must certainly be that of which he had read as being very common among the South Sea Islanders, and which was named taro. Also we found a large supply of yams, and another root like a potato in appearance. As these were all quite new to us, we regarded our lot as a most fortunate one, in being thus cast on an island which was so prolific and so well stored with all the necessaries of life. Long afterwards we found out that this island of ours was no better in these respects than thousands of other islands in those seas. Indeed, many of them were much richer and more productive; but that did not render us the less grateful for our present good fortune. We each put one of these roots in our pocket, intending to use them for our supper--of which more hereafter. We also saw many beautiful birds here, and traces of some four-footed animal again. Meanwhile the sun began to descend; so we returned to the shore and pushed on, round the spouting rocks, into the next valley. This was that valley of which I have spoken as running across the entire island. It was by far the largest and most beautiful that we had yet looked upon. Here were trees of every shape and size and hue which it is possible to conceive of, many of which we had not seen in the other valleys; for, the stream in this valley being larger, and the mould much richer than in the Valley of the Wreck, it was clothed with a more luxuriant growth of trees and plants. Some trees were dark, glossy green; others of a rich and warm hue, contrasting well with those of a pale, light green, which were everywhere abundant. Among these we recognised the broad, dark heads of the bread-fruit, with its golden fruit; the pure, silvery foliage of the candle-nut, and several species which bore a strong resemblance to the pine; while here and there, in groups and in single trees, rose the tall forms of the cocoa-nut palms, spreading abroad, and waving their graceful plumes high above all the rest, as if they were a superior race of stately giants keeping guard over these luxuriant forests. Oh, it was a most enchanting scene! and I thanked God for having created such delightful spots for the use of man. Now, while we were gazing around us in silent admiration, Jack uttered an exclamation of surprise, and pointing to an object a little to one side of us, said: "That's a banyan tree." "And what's a banyan tree?" inquired Peterkin as we walked towards it. "A very curious one, as you shall see presently," replied Jack. "It is called the _aoa_ here, if I recollect rightly, and has a wonderful peculiarity about it. What an enormous one it is, to be sure!" "_It_!" repeated Peterkin. "Why, there are dozens of banyans here! What do you mean by talking bad grammar? Is your philosophy deserting you, Jack?" "There is but one tree here of this kind," returned Jack, "as you will perceive if you will examine it." And, sure enough, we did find that what we had supposed was a forest of trees was in reality only one. Its bark was of a light colour, and had a shining appearance, the leaves being lance-shaped, small, and of a beautiful pea-green. But the wonderful thing about it was that the branches, which grew out from the stem horizontally, sent down long shoots or fibres to the ground, which, taking root, had themselves become trees, and were covered with bark like the tree itself. Many of these fibres had descended from the branches at various distances, and thus supported them on natural pillars, some of which were so large and strong that it was not easy at first to distinguish the offspring from the parent stem. The fibres were of all sizes and in all states of advancement, from the pillars we have just mentioned to small cords which hung down and were about to take root, and thin brown threads still far from the ground, which swayed about with every motion of wind. In short, it seemed to us that, if there were only space afforded to it, this single tree would at length cover the whole island. Shortly after this we came upon another remarkable tree, which, as its peculiar formation afterwards proved extremely useful to us, merits description. It was a splendid chestnut, but its proper name Jack did not know. However, there were quantities of fine nuts upon it, some of which we put in our pockets. But its stem was the most wonderful part of it. It rose to about twelve feet without a branch, and was not of great thickness; on the contrary, it was remarkably slender for the size of the tree. But to make up for this, there were four or five wonderful projections in this stem, which I cannot better describe than by asking the reader to suppose that five planks of two inches thick and three feet broad had been placed round the trunk of the tree, with their _edges_ closely fixed to it, from the ground up to the branches, and that these planks had been covered over with the bark of the tree and incorporated with it. In short, they were just natural buttresses, without which the stem could not have supported its heavy and umbrageous top. We found these chestnuts to be very numerous. They grew chiefly on the banks of the stream, and were of all sizes. While we were examining a small tree of this kind Jack chipped a piece off a buttress with his axe, and found the wood to be firm and easily cut. He then struck the axe into it with all his force, and very soon split it off close to the tree--first, however, having cut it across transversely above and below. By this means he satisfied himself that we could now obtain short planks, as it were all ready sawn, of any size and thickness that we desired, which was a very great discovery indeed-- perhaps the most important we had yet made. We now wended our way back to the coast, intending to encamp near the beach, as we found that the mosquitoes were troublesome in the forest. On our way we could not help admiring the birds which flew and chirped around us. Among them we observed a pretty kind of paroquet, with a green body, a blue head, and a red breast; also a few beautiful turtle-doves, and several flocks of wood-pigeons. The hues of many of these birds were extremely vivid--bright green, blue, and scarlet being the prevailing tints. We made several attempts throughout the day to bring down one of these, both with the bow and the sling--not for mere sport, but to ascertain whether they were good for food. But we invariably missed, although once or twice we were very near hitting. As evening drew on however, a flock of pigeons flew past. I slung a stone into the midst of them at a venture, and had the good fortune to kill one. We were startled soon after by a loud whistling noise above our heads, and on looking up, saw a flock of wild ducks making for the coast. We watched these, and observing where they alighted, followed them up until we came upon a most lovely blue lake, not more than two hundred yards long, embosomed in verdant trees. Its placid surface, which reflected every leaf and stem as if in a mirror, was covered with various species of wild ducks, feeding among the sedges and broad-leaved water-plants which floated on it, while numerous birds like water-hens ran to and fro most busily on its margin. These all, with one accord, flew tumultuously away the instant we made our appearance. While walking along the margin we observed fish in the water, but of what sort we could not tell. Now, as we neared the shore, Jack and I said we would go a little out of our way to see if we could procure one of those ducks; so, directing Peterkin to go straight to the shore and kindle a fire, we separated, promising to rejoin him speedily. But we did not find the ducks, although we made a diligent search for half-an-hour. We were about to retrace our steps when we were arrested by one of the strangest sights that we had yet beheld. Just in front of us, at the distance of about ten yards, grew a superb tree, which certainly was the largest we had yet seen on the island. Its trunk was at least five feet in diameter, with a smooth, grey bark; above this the spreading branches were clothed with light-green leaves, amid which were clusters of bright-yellow fruit, so numerous as to weigh down the boughs with their great weight. This fruit seemed to be of the plum species, of an oblong form, and a good deal larger than the magnum bonum plum. The ground at the foot of this tree was thickly strewn with the fallen fruit, in the midst of which lay sleeping, in every possible attitude, at least twenty hogs of all ages and sizes, apparently quite surfeited with a recent banquet. Jack and I could scarce restrain our laughter as we gazed at these coarse, fat, ill-looking animals while they lay groaning and snoring heavily amid the remains of their supper. "Now, Ralph," said Jack in a low whisper, "put a stone in your sling--a good big one--and let fly at that fat fellow with his back toward you. I'll try to put an arrow into yon little pig." "Don't you think we had better put them up first?" I whispered. "It seems cruel to kill them while asleep." "If I wanted _sport_, Ralph, I would certainly set them up; but as we only want _pork_, we'll let them lie. Besides, we're not sure of killing them; so, fire away." Thus admonished, I slung my stone with so good aim that it went bang against the hog's flank as if against the head of a drum; but it had no other effect than that of causing the animal to start to its feet, with a frightful yell of surprise, and scamper away. At the same instant Jack's bow twanged, and the arrow pinned the little pig to the ground by the ear. "I've missed, after all!" cried Jack, darting forward with uplifted axe; while the little pig uttered a loud squeal, tore the arrow from the ground, and ran away with it, along with the whole drove, into the bushes and disappeared, though we heard them screaming long afterwards in the distance. "That's very provoking, now," said Jack, rubbing the point of his nose. "Very," I replied, stroking my chin. "Well, we must make haste and rejoin Peterkin," said Jack; "it's getting late." And without further remark, we threaded our way quickly through the woods towards the shore. When we reached it we found wood laid out, the fire lighted and beginning to kindle up, with other signs of preparation for our encampment; but Peterkin was nowhere to be found. We wondered very much at this; but Jack suggested that he might have gone to fetch water, so he gave a shout to let him know that we had arrived, and sat down upon a rock, while I threw off my jacket and seized the axe, intending to split up one or two billets of wood. But I had scarce moved from the spot when, in the distance, we heard a most appalling shriek, which was followed up by a chorus of yells from the hogs, and a loud hurrah. "I do believe," said I, "that Peterkin has met with the hogs." "When Greek meets Greek," said Jack, soliloquising, "then comes the tug of--" "Hurrah!" shouted Peterkin in the distance. We turned hastily towards the direction whence the sound came, and soon descried Peterkin walking along the beach towards us with a little pig transfixed on the end of his long spear! "Well done, my boy!" exclaimed Jack, slapping him on the shoulder when he came up. "You're the best shot amongst us." "Look here, Jack!" cried Peterkin as he disengaged the animal from his spear. "Do you recognise that hole?" said he, pointing to the pig's ear; "and are you familiar with this arrow, eh?" "Well, I declare!" said Jack. "Of course you do," interrupted Peterkin; "but, pray, restrain your declarations at this time, and let's have supper--for I'm uncommonly hungry, I can tell you. And it's no joke to charge a whole herd of swine with their great-grandmother bristling like a giant porcupine, at the head of them!" We now set about preparing supper; and, truly, a good display of viands we made when all was laid out on a flat rock in the light of the blazing fire. There was, first of all, the little pig; then there were the taro-root, and the yam, and the potato, and six plums; and lastly, the wood-pigeon. To these Peterkin added a bit of sugar-cane, which he had cut from a little patch of that plant which he had found not long after separating from us; "and," said he, "the patch was somewhat in a square form, which convinces me it must have been planted by man." "Very likely," replied Jack. "From all we have seen, I'm inclined to think that some of the savages must have dwelt here long ago." We found no small difficulty in making up our minds how we were to cook the pig. None of us had ever cut up one before, and we did not know exactly how to begin; besides, we had nothing but the axe to do it with, our knife having been forgotten. At last Jack started up and said: "Don't let us waste more time talking about it, boys.--Hold it up, Peterkin. There, lay the hind leg on this block of wood--so;" and he cut it off; with a large portion of the haunch, at a single blow of the axe. "Now the other--that's it." And having thus cut off the two hind legs, he made several deep gashes in them, thrust a sharp-pointed stick through each, and stuck them up before the blaze to roast. The wood-pigeon was then split open, quite flat, washed clean in salt water, and treated in a similar manner. While these were cooking we scraped a hole in the sand and ashes under the fire, into which we put our vegetables and covered them up. The taro-root was of an oval shape, about ten inches long and four or five thick. It was of a mottled-grey colour, and had a thick rind. We found it somewhat like an Irish potato, and exceedingly good. The yam was roundish, and had a rough brown skin. It was very sweet and well flavoured. The potato, we were surprised to find, was quite sweet and exceedingly palatable, as also were the plums--and, indeed, the pork and pigeon too--when we came to taste them. Altogether, this was decidedly the most luxurious supper we had enjoyed for many a day. Jack said it was out-of-sight better than we ever got on board ship; and Peterkin said he feared that if we should remain long on the island he would infallibly become a glutton or an epicure, whereat Jack remarked that he need not fear that, for he was both already! And so, having eaten our fill, not forgetting to finish off with a plum, we laid ourselves comfortably down to sleep, upon a couch of branches, under the overhanging ledge of a coral rock. CHAPTER ELEVEN. EFFECTS OF OVEREATING, AND REFLECTIONS THEREON--HUMBLE ADVICE REGARDING COLD WATER--THE "HORRIBLE CRY" ACCOUNTED FOR--THE CURIOUS BIRDS CALLED PENGUINS--PECULIARITY OF THE COCOA-NUT PALM--QUESTIONS ON THE FORMATION OF CORAL ISLANDS--MYSTERIOUS FOOTSTEPS--STRANGE DISCOVERIES AND SAD SIGHTS. When we awoke on the following morning we found that the sun was already a good way above the horizon, so I came to the conclusion that a heavy supper is not conducive to early rising. Never-the-less, we felt remarkably strong and well, and much disposed to have our breakfast. First, however, we had our customary morning bathe, which refreshed us greatly. I have often wondered very much in after years that the inhabitants of my own dear land did not make more frequent use of this most charming element, water--I mean in the way of cold bathing. Of course, I have perceived that it is not convenient for them to go into the sea or the rivers in winter, as we used to do on the Coral Island; but then I knew from experience that a large washing-tub and a sponge do form a most pleasant substitute. The feelings of freshness, of cleanliness, of vigour, and extreme hilarity that always followed my bathes in the sea-- and even, when in England, my ablutions in the wash-tub--were so delightful that I would sooner have gone without my breakfast than without my bathe in cold water. My readers will forgive me for asking whether they are in the habit of bathing thus every morning; and if they answer "No", they will pardon me for recommending them to begin at once. Of late years, since retiring from the stirring life of adventure which I have led so long in foreign climes, I have heard of a system called the cold-water cure. Now, I do not know much about that system; so I do not mean to uphold it, neither do I intend to run it down. Perhaps, in reference to it, I may just hint that there may be too much of a good thing--I know not. But of this I am quite certain, that there may also be too little of a good thing; and the great delight I have had in cold bathing during the course of my adventurous career inclines me to think that it is better to risk taking too much than to content one's self with too little. Such is my opinion, derived from much experience; but I put it before my readers with the utmost diffidence and with profound modesty, knowing that it may possibly jar with their feelings of confidence in their own ability to know and judge as to what is best and fittest in reference to their own affairs. But to return from this digression, for which I humbly crave forgiveness. We had not advanced on our journey much above a mile or so, and were just beginning to feel the pleasant glow that usually accompanies vigorous exercise, when, on turning a point that revealed to us a new and beautiful cluster of islands, we were suddenly arrested by the appalling cry which had so alarmed us a few nights before. But this time we were by no means so much alarmed as on the previous occasion, because, whereas at that time it was night, now it was day; and I have always found, though I am unable to account for it, that daylight banishes many of the fears that are apt to assail us in the dark. On hearing the sound, Peterkin instantly threw forward his spear. "Now, what can it be?" said he, looking round at Jack. "I tell you what it is: if we are to go on being pulled up in a constant state of horror and astonishment, as we have been for the last week, the sooner we're out o' this island the better, notwithstanding the yams and lemonade, and pork and plums!" Peterkin's remark was followed by a repetition of the cry, louder than before. "It comes from one of these islands," said Jack. "It must be the ghost of a jackass, then," said Peterkin, "for I never heard anything so like." We all turned our eyes towards the cluster of islands, where, on the largest, we observed curious objects moving on the shore. "Soldiers they are--that's flat!" cried Peterkin, gazing at them in the utmost amazement. And, in truth, Peterkin's remark seemed to me to be correct; for at the distance from which we saw them, they appeared to be an army of soldiers. There they stood, rank and file, in lines and in squares, marching and counter-marching, with blue coats and white trousers. While we were looking at them the dreadful cry came again over the water, and Peterkin suggested that it must be a regiment sent out to massacre the natives in cold blood. At this remark Jack laughed and said: "Why, Peterkin, they are penguins!" "Penguins?" repeated Peterkin. "Ay, penguins, Peterkin, penguins--nothing more or less than big sea-birds, as you shall see one of these days when we pay them a visit in our boat, which I mean to set about building the moment we return to our bower." "So, then, our dreadful yelling ghosts and our murdering army of soldiers," remarked Peterkin, "have dwindled down to penguins--big sea-birds! Very good. Then I propose that we continue our journey as fast as possible, lest our island should be converted into a dream before we get completely round it." Now, as we continued on our way, I pondered much over this new discovery and the singular appearance of these birds, of which Jack could only give us a very slight and vague account; and I began to long to commence our boat, in order that we might go and inspect them more narrowly. But by degrees these thoughts left me, and I began to be much taken up again with the interesting peculiarities of the country which we were passing through. The second night we passed in a manner somewhat similar to the first--at about two-thirds of the way round the island, as we calculated--and we hoped to sleep on the night following at our bower. I will not here note so particularly all that we said and saw during the course of this second day, as we did not make any further discoveries of great importance. The shore along which we travelled, and the various parts of the woods through which we passed, were similar to those which have been already treated of. There were one or two observations that we made, however, and these were as follows: We saw that, while many of the large fruit-bearing trees grew only in the valleys, and some of them only near the banks of the streams, where the soil was peculiarly rich, the cocoa-nut palm grew in every place whatsoever--not only on the hillsides, but also on the seashore, and even, as has been already stated, on the coral reef itself, where the soil, if we may use the name, was nothing better than loose sand mingled with broken shells and coral rock. So near to the sea, too, did this useful tree grow, that in many places its roots were washed by the spray from the breakers. Yet we found the trees growing thus on the sands to be quite as luxuriant as those growing in the valleys, and the fruit as good and refreshing also. Besides this, I noticed that on the summit of the high mountain, which we once more ascended at a different point from our first ascent, were found abundance of shells and broken coral formations, which, Jack and I agreed, proved either that this island must have once been under the sea, or that the sea must once have been above the island: in other words, that as shells and coral could not possibly climb to the mountain-top, they must have been washed upon it while the mountain-top was on a level with the sea. We pondered this very much; and we put to ourselves the question, "What raised the island to its present height above the sea?" But to this we could by no means give to ourselves a satisfactory reply. Jack thought it might have been blown up by a volcano; and Peterkin said he thought it must have jumped up of its own accord! We also noticed, what had escaped us before, that the solid rocks of which the island was formed were quite different from the live coral rocks on the shore, where, the wonderful little insects were continually working. They seemed, indeed, to be of the same material--a substance like limestone; but while the coral rocks were quite full of minute cells in which the insects lived, the other rocks inland were hard and solid, without the appearance of cells at all. Our thoughts and conversations on this subject were sometimes so profound that Peterkin said we should certainly get drowned in them at last, even although we were such good divers! Nevertheless, we did not allow his pleasantry on this and similar points to deter us from making our notes and observations as we went along. We found several more droves of hogs in the woods, but abstained from killing any of them, having more than sufficient for our present necessities. We saw, also, many of their footprints in this neighbourhood. Among these we also observed the footprints of a smaller animal, which we examined with much care, but could form no certain opinion as to them. Peterkin thought they were those of a little dog, but Jack and I thought differently. We became very curious on this matter, the more so that we observed these footprints to lie scattered about in one locality, as if the animal which had made them was wandering round about in a very irregular manner and without any object in view. Early in the forenoon of our third day we observed these footprints to be much more numerous than ever, and in one particular spot they diverged off into the woods in a regular beaten track, which was, however, so closely beset with bushes that we pushed through it with difficulty. We had now become so anxious to find out what animal this was, and where it went to, that we determined to follow the track and, if possible, clear up the mystery. Peterkin said, in a bantering tone, that he was sure it would be cleared up, as usual, in some frightfully simple way, and prove to be no mystery at all! The beaten track seemed much too large to have been formed by the animal itself, and we concluded that some larger animal had made it, and that the smaller one made use of it. But everywhere the creeping plants and tangled bushes crossed our path, so that we forced our way along with some difficulty. Suddenly, as we came upon an open space, we heard a faint cry, and observed a black animal standing in the track before us. "A wild cat!" cried Jack, fitting an arrow to his bow, and discharging it so hastily that he missed the animal, and hit the earth about half-a-foot to one side of it. To our surprise, the wild cat did not fly, but walked slowly towards the arrow and snuffed at it. "That's the most comical wild cat I ever saw!" cried Jack. "It's a tame wild cat, I think," said Peterkin, levelling his spear to make a charge. "Stop!" cried I, laying my hand on his shoulder. "I do believe the poor beast is blind. See, it strikes against the branches as it walks along. It must be a very old one;" and I hastened towards it. "Only think," said Peterkin with a suppressed laugh, "of a superannuated wild cat!" We now found that the poor cat was not only blind, or nearly so, but extremely deaf, as it did not hear our footsteps until we were quite close behind it. Then it sprang round, and, putting up its back and tail, while the black hair stood all on end, uttered a hoarse mew and a fuff. Poor thing said Peterkin, gently extending his hand and endeavouring to pat the cat's head. "Poor pussy! chee, chee, chee! puss, puss, puss! cheetie pussy!" No sooner did the cat hear these sounds than all signs of anger fled, and advancing eagerly to Peterkin, it allowed itself to be stroked, and rubbed itself against his legs, purring loudly all the time, and showing every symptom of the most extreme delight. "It's no more a wild cat than I am!" cried Peterkin, taking it in his arms; "it's quite tame.--Poor pussy! cheetie pussy!" We now crowded around Peterkin, and were not a little surprised--and, to say truth, a good deal affected--by the sight of the poor animal's excessive joy. It rubbed its head against Peterkin's cheek, licked his chin, and thrust its head almost violently into his neck, while it purred more loudly than I ever heard a cat purr before, and appeared to be so much overpowered by its feelings that it occasionally mewed and purred almost in the same breath. Such demonstrations of joy and affection led us at once to conclude that this poor cat must have known man before, and we conjectured that it had been left either accidentally or by design on the island many years ago, and was now evincing its extreme joy at meeting once more with human beings. While we were fondling the cat and talking about it, Jack glanced round the open space in the midst of which we stood. "Hallo!" exclaimed he; "this looks something like a clearing. The axe has been at work here. Just look at these tree-stumps." We now turned to examine these, and without doubt we found trees that had been cut down here and there, also stumps and broken branches--all of which, however, were completely covered over with moss, and bore evidence of having been in this condition for some years. No human footprints were to be seen either on the track or among the bushes, but those of the cat were found everywhere. We now determined to follow up the track as far as it went, and Peterkin put the cat down; but it seemed to be so weak, and mewed so very pitifully, that he took it up again and carried it in his arms, where in a few minutes it fell sound asleep. About ten yards farther on, the felled trees became more numerous, and the track, diverging to the right, followed for a short space the banks of a stream. Suddenly we came to a spot where once must have been a rude bridge, the stones of which were scattered in the stream, and those on each bank entirely covered over with moss. In silent surprise and expectancy we continued to advance, and a few yards farther on, beheld, under the shelter of some bread-fruit trees, a small hut or cottage. I cannot hope to convey to my readers a very correct idea of the feelings that affected us on witnessing this unexpected sight. We stood for a long time in silent wonder, for there was a deep and most melancholy stillness about the place that quite overpowered us; and when we did at length speak, it was in subdued whispers, as if we were surrounded by some awful or supernatural influence. Even Peterkin's voice, usually so quick and lively on all occasions, was hushed now; for there was a dreariness about this silent, lonely, uninhabited cottage--so strange in its appearance, so far away from the usual dwellings of man, so old, decayed, and deserted in its aspect that fell upon our spirits like a thick cloud, and blotted out as with a pall the cheerful sunshine that had filled us since the commencement of our tour round the island. The hut or cottage was rude and simple in its construction. It was not more than twelve feet long by ten feet broad, and about seven or eight feet high. It had one window, or rather a small frame in which a window might perhaps once have been, but which was now empty. The door was exceedingly low, and formed of rough boards, and the roof was covered with broad cocoa-nut and plantain leaves. But every part of it was in a state of the utmost decay. Moss and green matter grew in spots all over it. The woodwork was quite perforated with holes; the roof had nearly fallen in, and appeared to be prevented from doing so altogether by the thick matting of creeping plants and the interlaced branches which years of neglect had allowed to cover it almost entirely; while the thick, luxuriant branches of the bread-fruit and other trees spread above it, and flung a deep, sombre shadow over the spot, as if to guard it from the heat and the light of day. We conversed long and in whispers about this strange habitation ere we ventured to approach it; and when at length we did so, it was, at least on my part, with feelings of awe. At first Jack endeavoured to peep in at the window; but from the deep shadow of the trees already mentioned, and the gloom within, he could not clearly discern objects, so we lifted the latch and pushed open the door. We observed that the latch was made of iron, and almost eaten away with rust. In the like condition were also the hinges, which creaked as the door swung back. On entering, we stood still and gazed around us, while we were much impressed with the dreary stillness of the room. But what we saw there surprised and shocked us not a little. There was no furniture in the apartment save a little wooden stool and an iron pot, the latter almost eaten through with rust. In the corner farthest from the door was a low bedstead, on which lay two skeletons, embedded in a little heap of dry dust. With beating hearts we went forward to examine them. One was the skeleton of a man; the other that of a dog, which was extended close beside that of the man, with its head resting on his bosom. Now we were very much concerned about this discovery, and could scarce refrain from tears on beholding these sad remains. After some time we began to talk about what we had seen, and to examine in and around the hut, in order to discover some clue to the name or history of this poor man, who had thus died in solitude, with none to mourn his loss save his cat and his faithful dog. But we found nothing--neither a book nor a scrap of paper. We found, however, the decayed remnants of what appeared to have been clothing, and an old axe. But none of these things bore marks of any kind, and indeed they were so much decayed as to convince us that they had lain in the condition in which we found them for many years. This discovery now accounted to us for the tree-stump at the top of the mountain with the initials cut on it; also for the patch of sugar-cane and other traces of man which we had met with in the course of our rambles over the island. And we were much saddened by the reflection that the lot of this poor wanderer might possibly be our own, after many years' residence on the island, unless we should be rescued by the visit of some vessel or the arrival of natives. Having no clue whatever to account for the presence of this poor human being in such a lonely spot, we fell to conjecturing what could have brought him there. I was inclined to think that he must have been a shipwrecked sailor, whose vessel had been lost here, and all the crew been drowned except himself and his dog and cat. But Jack thought it more likely that he had run away from his vessel, and had taken the dog and cat to keep him company. We were also much occupied in our minds with the wonderful difference between the cat and the dog. For here we saw that while the one perished like a loving friend by its master's side, with its head resting on his bosom, the other had sought to sustain itself by prowling abroad in the forest, and had lived in solitude to a good old age. However, we did not conclude from this that the cat was destitute of affection, for we could not forget its emotions on first meeting with us; but we saw from this that the dog had a great deal more of generous love in its nature than the cat, because it not only found it impossible to live after the death of its master, but it must needs, when it came to die, crawl to his side and rest its head upon his lifeless breast. While we were thinking on these things, and examining into everything about the room, we were attracted by an exclamation from Peterkin. "I say, Jack," said he, "here is something that will be of use to us." "What is it?" said Jack, hastening across the room. "An old pistol," replied Peterkin, holding up the weapon, which he had just pulled from under a heap of broken wood and rubbish that lay in a corner. "That, indeed, might have been useful," said Jack, examining it, "if we had any powder; but I suspect the bow and the sling will prove more serviceable." "True, I forgot that," said Peterkin; "but we may as well take it with us, for the flint will serve to strike fire with when the sun does not shine." After having spent more than an hour at this place without discovering anything of further interest, Peterkin took up the old cat, which had lain very contentedly asleep on the stool whereon he had placed it, and we prepared to take our departure. In leaving the hut, Jack stumbled heavily against the door-post, which was so much decayed as to break across, and the whole fabric of the hut seemed ready to tumble about our ears. This put it into our heads that we might as well pull it down, and so form a mound over the skeleton. Jack, therefore, with his axe, cut down the other door-post, which, when it was done, brought the whole hut in ruins to the ground, and thus formed a grave to the bones of the poor recluse and his dog. Then we left the spot, having brought away the iron pot, the pistol, and the old axe, as they might be of much use to us hereafter. During the rest of this day we pursued our journey, and examined the other end of the large valley, which we found to be so much alike to the parts already described that I shall not recount the particulars of what we saw in this place. I may, however, remark that we did not quite recover our former cheerful spirits until we arrived at our bower, which we did late in the evening, and found everything just in the same condition as we had left it three days before. CHAPTER TWELVE. SOMETHING WRONG WITH THE TANK--JACK'S WISDOM AND PETERKIN'S IMPERTINENCE--WONDERFUL BEHAVIOUR OF A CRAB--GOOD WISHES FOR THOSE WHO DWELL FAR FROM THE SEA--JACK COMMENCES TO BUILD A LITTLE BOAT. Rest is sweet, as well for the body as for the mind. During my long experience, amid the vicissitudes of a chequered life, I have found that periods of profound rest at certain intervals, in addition to the ordinary hours of repose, are necessary to the well-being of man. And the nature, as well as the period, of this rest varies according to the different temperaments of individuals and the peculiar circumstances in which they may chance to be placed. To those who work with their minds, bodily labour is rest; to those who labour with the body, deep sleep is rest; to the downcast, the weary, and the sorrowful, joy and peace are rest. Nay, further, I think that to the gay, the frivolous, the reckless, when sated with pleasures that cannot last, even sorrow proves to be rest of a kind, although, perchance, it were better that I should call it relief than rest. There is, indeed, but one class of men to whom rest is denied--there is no rest to the wicked. At this I do but hint, however, as I treat not of that rest which is spiritual, but more particularly of that which applies to the mind and to the body. Of this rest we stood much in need on our return home, and we found it exceedingly sweet when we indulged in it after completing the journey just related. It had not, indeed, been a very long journey; nevertheless, we had pursued it so diligently that our frames were not a little prostrated. Our minds were also very much exhausted in consequence of the many surprises, frequent alarms, and much profound thought to which they had been subjected; so that when we lay down, on the night of our return, under the shelter of the bower, we fell immediately into very deep repose. I can state this with much certainty; for Jack afterwards admitted the fact, and Peterkin, although he stoutly denied it, I heard snoring loudly at least two minutes after lying down. In this condition we remained all night and the whole of the following day without awaking once, or so much as moving our positions. When we did awake it was near sunset, and we were all in such a state of lassitude that we merely rose to swallow a mouthful of food. As Peterkin remarked, in the midst of a yawn, we took breakfast at tea-time, and then went to bed again, where we lay till the following forenoon. After this we arose very greatly refreshed, but much alarmed lest we had lost count of a day. I say we were much alarmed on this head; for we had carefully kept count of the days, since we were cast upon our island, in order that we might remember the Sabbath-day, which day we had hitherto, with one accord, kept as a day of rest, and refrained from all work whatsoever. However, on considering the subject, we all three entertained the same opinion as to how long we had slept, and so our minds were put at ease. We now hastened to our Water Garden to enjoy a bathe, and to see how did the animals which I had placed in the tank. We found the garden more charming, pellucid, and inviting than ever; and Jack and I plunged into its depths and gambolled among its radiant coral groves, while Peterkin wallowed at the surface, and tried occasionally to kick us as we passed below. Having dressed, I then hastened to the tank; but what was my surprise and grief to find nearly all the animals dead, and the water in a putrid condition! I was greatly distressed at this, and wondered what could be the cause of it. "Why, you precious humbug!" said Peterkin, coming up to me, "how could you expect it to be otherwise? When fishes are accustomed to live in the Pacific Ocean, how can you expect them to exist in a hole like that?" "Indeed, Peterkin," I replied, "there seems to be truth in what you say. Nevertheless, now I think of it, there must be some error in your reasoning; for if I put in but a few very small animals, they will bear the same proportion to this pond that the millions of fish bear to the ocean." "I say, Jack!" cried Peterkin, waving his hand; "come here, like a good fellow. Ralph is actually talking philosophy. Do come to our assistance, for he's out o' sight beyond me already!" "What's the matter?" inquired Jack, coming up, while he endeavoured to scrub his long hair dry with a towel of cocoa-nut cloth. I repeated my thoughts to Jack, who, I was happy to find, quite agreed with me. "The best plan," he said, "will be to put very few animals at first into your tank, and add more as you find it will bear them. And look here," he added, pointing to the sides of the tank, which, for the space of two inches above the water-level, were encrusted with salt, "you must carry your philosophy a little further, Ralph. That water has evaporated so much that it is too salt for anything to live in. You will require to add _fresh_ water now and then, in order to keep it at the same degree of saltness as the sea." "Very true, Jack; that never struck me before," said I. "And, now I think of it," continued Jack, "it seems to me that the surest way of arranging your tank so as to get it to keep pure and in good condition will be to _imitate_ the ocean in it; in fact, make it a miniature Pacific. I don't see how you can hope to succeed unless you do that." "Most true," said I, pondering what my companion said. "But I fear that that will be very difficult." "Not at all," cried Jack, rolling his towel up into a ball and throwing it into the face of Peterkin, who had been grinning and winking at him during the last five minutes--"not at all. Look here. There is water of a certain saltness in the sea; well, fill your tank with sea-water, and keep it at that saltness by marking the height at which the water stands on the sides. When it evaporates a little, pour in _fresh_ water from the brook till it comes up to the mark, and then it will be right, for the salt does not evaporate with the water. Then there's lots of seaweed in the sea; well, go and get one or two bits of seaweed and put them into your tank. Of course the weed must be alive, and growing to little stones; or you can chip a bit off the rocks with the weed sticking to it. Then, if you like, you can throw a little sand and gravel into your tank, and the thing's complete." "Nay, not quite," said Peterkin, who had been gravely attentive to this off-hand advice--"not quite. You must first make three little men to dive in it before it can be said to be perfect; and that would be rather difficult, I fear, for two of them would require to be philosophers. But hallo! what's this?--I say, Ralph, look here! There's one o' your crabs up to something uncommon. It's performing the most remarkable operation for a crab I ever saw--taking off its coat, I do believe, before going to bed!" We hastily stooped over the tank, and certainly were not a little amused at the conduct of one of the crabs which still survived its companions. It was one of the common small crabs, like to those that are found running about everywhere on the coast of England. While we gazed at it we observed its back to split away from the lower part of its body, and out of the gap thus formed came a soft lump which moved and writhed unceasingly. This lump continued to increase in size until it appeared like a bunch of crab's legs; and, indeed, such it proved in a very few minutes to be, for the points of the toes were at length extricated from the hole in its back, the legs spread out, the body followed, and the crab walked away quite entire, even to the points of its nipper-claws, leaving a perfectly entire shell behind it, so that, when we looked, it seemed as though there were two complete crabs instead of one. "Well," exclaimed Peterkin, drawing a long breath, "I've _heard_ of a man jumping out of his skin and sitting down in his skeleton in order to cool himself, but I never expected to _see_ a crab do it!" We were, in truth, much amazed at this spectacle, and the more so when we observed that the new crab was larger than the crab that it came out of. It was also quite soft, but by next morning its skin had hardened into a good shell. We came thus to know that crabs grow in this way, and not by the growing of their shells, as we had always thought before we saw this wonderful operation. Now I considered well the advice which Jack had given me about preparing my tank, and the more I thought of it the more I came to regard it as very sound and worthy of being acted on. So I forthwith put his plan in execution, and found it to answer excellently well--indeed, much beyond my expectation; for I found that after a little experience had taught me the proper proportion of seaweed and animals to put into a certain amount of water, the tank needed no further attendance. And, moreover, I did not require ever afterwards to renew or change the sea-water, but only to add a very little fresh water from the brook, now and then, as the other evaporated. I therefore concluded that if I had been suddenly conveyed, along with my tank, into some region where there was no salt sea at all, my little sea and my sea-fish would have continued to thrive and to prosper notwithstanding. This made me greatly to desire that those people in the world who live far inland might know of my wonderful tank, and by having materials like to those of which it was made conveyed to them, thus be enabled to watch the habits of those most mysterious animals that reside in the sea, and examine with their own eyes the wonders of the great deep. For many days after this, while Peterkin and Jack were busily employed in building a little boat out of the curious natural planks of the chestnut-tree, I spent much of my time in examining with the burning-glass the marvellous operations that were constantly going on in my tank. Here I saw those anemones which cling, like little red, yellow, and green blobs of jelly, to the rocks, put forth, as it were, a multitude of arms and wait till little fish or other small animalcules unwarily touched them, when they would instantly seize them, fold arm after arm round their victims, and so engulf them in their stomachs. Here I saw the ceaseless working of those little coral insects whose efforts have encrusted the islands of the Pacific with vast rocks, and surrounded them with enormous reefs; and I observed that many of these insects, though extremely minute, were very beautiful, coming out of their holes in a circle of fine threads, and having the form of a shuttlecock. Here I saw curious little barnacles opening a hole in their backs and constantly putting out a thin, feathery hand, with which, I doubt not, they dragged their food into their mouths. Here, also, I saw those crabs which have shells only on the front of their bodies, but no shell whatever on their remarkably tender tails, so that, in order to find a protection to them, they thrust them into the empty shells of whelks, or some such fish, and when they grow too big for one, change into another. But, most curious of all, I saw an animal which had the wonderful power, when it became ill, of casting its stomach and its teeth away from it, and getting an entirely new set in the course of a few months! All this I saw, and a great deal more, by means of my tank and my burning-glass; but I refrain from setting down more particulars here, as I have still much to tell of the adventures that befell us while we remained on this island. CHAPTER THIRTEEN. NOTABLE DISCOVERY AT THE SPOUTING CLIFFS--THE MYSTERIOUS GREEN MONSTER EXPLAINED--WE ARE THROWN INTO UNUTTERABLE TERROR BY THE IDEA THAT JACK IS DROWNED--THE DIAMOND CAVE. "Come, Jack," cried Peterkin one morning about three weeks after our return from our long excursion, "let's be jolly to-day, and do something vigorous. I'm quite tired of hammering and bammering, hewing and screwing, cutting and butting at that little boat of ours, that seems as hard to build as Noah's ark. Let us go on an excursion to the mountain-top, or have a hunt after the wild ducks, or make a dash at the pigs. I'm quite flat--flat as bad ginger-beer--flat as a pancake; in fact, I want something to rouse me--to toss me up, as it were. Eh! what do you say to it?" "Well," answered Jack, throwing down the axe with which he was just about to proceed towards the boat, "if that's what you want, I would recommend you to make an excursion to the waterspouts. The last one we had to do with tossed you up a considerable height; perhaps the next will send you higher--who knows?--if you're at all reasonable or moderate in your expectations!" "Jack, my dear boy," said Peterkin gravely, "you are really becoming too fond of jesting. It's a thing I don't at all approve of; and if you don't give it up, I fear that, for our mutual good, we shall have to part." "Well, then, Peterkin," replied Jack with a smile, "what would you have?" "Have?" said Peterkin. "I would _have_ nothing. I didn't say I wanted to _have_; I said that I wanted to _do_." "By the bye," said I, interrupting their conversation, "I am reminded by this that we have not yet discovered the nature of yon curious appearance that we saw near the waterspouts on our journey round the island. Perhaps it would be well to go for that purpose." "Humph!" ejaculated Peterkin, "I know the nature of it well enough." "What was it?" said I. "It was of a _mysterious_ nature, to be sure!" said he with a wave of his hand, while he rose from the log on which he had been sitting and buckled on his belt, into which he thrust his enormous club. "Well, then, let us away to the waterspouts," cried Jack, going up to the bower for his bow and arrows.--"And bring your spear, Peterkin; it may be useful." We now, having made up our minds to examine into this matter, sallied forth eagerly in the direction of the waterspout rocks, which, as I have before mentioned, were not far from our present place of abode. On arriving there we hastened down to the edge of the rocks and gazed over into the sea, where we observed the pale-green object still distinctly visible, moving its tail slowly to and fro in the water. "Most remarkable!" said Jack. "Exceedingly curious!" said I. "Beats everything!" said Peterkin.--"Now, Jack," he added, "you made such a poor figure in your last attempt to stick that object that I would advise you to let me try it. If it has got a heart at all, I'll engage to send my spear right through the core of it; if it hasn't got a heart, I'll send it through the spot where its heart ought to be." "Fire away, then, my boy," replied Jack with a laugh. Peterkin immediately took the spear, poised it for a second or two above his head, then darted it like an arrow into the sea. Down it went straight into the centre of the green object, passed quite through it, and came up immediately afterwards, pure and unsullied, while the mysterious tail moved quietly as before! "Now," said Peterkin gravely, "that brute is a heartless monster; I'll have nothing more to do with it." "I'm pretty sure now," said Jack, "that it is merely a phosphoric light; but I must say I'm puzzled at its staying always in that exact spot." I also was much puzzled, and inclined to think with Jack that it must be phosphoric light, of which luminous appearance we had seen much while on our voyage to these seas. "But," said I, "there is nothing to hinder us from diving down to it, now that we are sure it is not a shark." "True," returned Jack, stripping off his clothes. "I'll go down, Ralph, as I'm better at diving than you are.--Now, then, Peterkin, out o' the road!" Jack stepped forward, joined his hands above his head, bent over the rocks, and plunged into the sea. For a second or two the spray caused by his dive hid him from view; then the water became still, and we saw him swimming far down in the midst of the green object. Suddenly he sank below it, and vanished altogether from our sight! We gazed anxiously down at the spot where he had disappeared for nearly a minute, expecting every moment to see him rise again for breath; but fully a minute passed and still he did not reappear. Two minutes passed! and then a flood of alarm rushed in upon my soul when I considered that, during all my acquaintance with him, Jack had never stayed under water more than a minute at a time--indeed, seldom so long. "Oh Peterkin!" I said in a voice that trembled with increasing anxiety, "something has happened. It is more than three minutes now." But Peterkin did not answer; and I observed that he was gazing down into the water with a look of intense fear mingled with anxiety, while his face was overspread with a deadly paleness. Suddenly he sprang to his feet and rushed about in a frantic state, wringing his hands, and exclaiming, "Oh Jack! Jack! He is gone! It must have been a shark, and he is gone for ever!" For the next five minutes I know not what I did; the intensity of my feelings almost bereft me of my senses. But I was recalled to myself by Peterkin seizing me by the shoulders and staring wildly into my face, while he exclaimed, "Ralph! Ralph! perhaps he has only fainted! Dive for him, Ralph!" It seemed strange that this did not occur to me sooner. In a moment I rushed to the edge of the rocks, and without waiting to throw off my garments, was on the point to spring into the waves when I observed something black rising up through the green object. In another moment Jack's head rose to the surface, and he gave a wild shout, flinging back the spray from his locks, as was his wont after a dive. Now we were almost as much amazed at seeing him reappear, well and strong, as we had been at first at his non-appearance; for, to the best of our judgment, he had been nearly ten minutes under water--perhaps longer--and it required no exertion of our reason to convince us that this was utterly impossible for mortal man to do and retain his strength and faculties. It was, therefore, with a feeling akin to superstitious awe that I held down my hand and assisted him to clamber up the steep rocks. But no such feeling affected Peterkin. No sooner did Jack gain the rocks and seat himself on one, panting for breath, than he threw his arms round his neck and burst into a flood of tears. "Oh Jack! Jack!" said he, "where were you? What kept you so long?" After a few moments Peterkin became composed enough to sit still and listen to Jack's explanation, although he could not restrain himself from attempting to wink every two minutes at me in order to express his joy at Jack's safety. I say he attempted to wink, but I am bound to add that he did not succeed; for his eyes were so much swollen with weeping that his frequent attempts only resulted in a series of violent and altogether idiotical contortions of the face, that were very far from expressing what he intended. However, I knew what the poor fellow meant by it; so I smiled to him in return, and endeavoured to make believe that he was winking. "Now, lads," said Jack when we were composed enough to listen to him, "yon green object is not a shark; it is a stream of light issuing from a cave in the rocks. Just after I made my dive, I observed that this light came from the side of the rock above which we are now sitting; so I struck out for it, and saw an opening into some place or other that appeared to be luminous within. For one instant I paused to think whether I ought to venture. Then I made up my mind and dashed into it; for you see, Peterkin, although I take some time to tell this, it happened in the space of a few seconds, so that I knew I had wind enough in me to serve to bring me out o' the hole and up to the surface again. Well, I was just on the point of turning--for I began to feel a little uncomfortable in such a place--when it seemed to me as if there was a faint light right above me. I darted upwards, and found my head out of water. This relieved me greatly, for I now felt that I could take in air enough to enable me to return the way I came. Then it all at once occurred to me that I might not be able to find the way out again; but on glancing downwards, my mind was put quite at rest by seeing the green light below me streaming into the cave, just like the light that we had seen streaming out of it, only what I now saw was much brighter. "At first I could scarcely see anything as I gazed around me, it was so dark; but gradually my eyes became accustomed to it, and I found that I was in a huge cave, part of the walls of which I observed on each side of me. The ceiling just above me was also visible, and I fancied that I could perceive beautiful, glittering objects there; but the farther end of the cave was shrouded in darkness. While I was looking around me in great wonder, it came into my head that you two would think I was drowned; so I plunged down through the passage again in a great hurry, rose to the surface, and--here I am!" When Jack concluded his recital of what he had seen in this remarkable cave, I could not rest satisfied till I had dived down to see it; which I did, but found it so dark, as Jack had said, that I could scarcely see anything. When I returned we had a long conversation about, it, during which I observed that Peterkin had a most lugubrious expression on his countenance. "What's the matter, Peterkin?" said I. "The matter?" he replied. "It's all very well for you two to be talking away like mermaids about the wonders of this cave; but you know I must be content to hear about it, while you are enjoying yourselves down there like mad dolphins. It's really too bad!" "I'm very sorry for you, Peterkin--indeed I am," said Jack; "but we cannot help you. If you would only learn to dive--" "Learn to fly, you might as well say!" retorted Peterkin in a very sulky tone. "If you would only consent to keep still," said I, "we would take you down with us in ten seconds." "Hum!" returned Peterkin; "suppose a salamander was to propose to you `only to keep still' and he would carry you through a blazing fire in a few seconds, what would you say?" We both laughed and shook our heads, for it was evident that nothing was to be made of Peterkin in the water. But we could not rest satisfied till we had seen more of this cave; so, after further consultation, Jack and I determined to try if we could take down a torch with us, and set fire to it in the cavern. This we found to be an undertaking of no small difficulty, but we accomplished it at last by the following means: First, we made a torch of a very inflammable nature out of the bark of a certain tree, which we cut into strips, and after twisting, cemented together with a kind of resin or gum, which we also obtained from another tree; neither of which trees, however, was known by name to Jack. This, when prepared, we wrapped up in a great number of plies of cocoa-nut cloth, so that we were confident it could not get wet during the short time it should be under water. Then we took a small piece of the tinder, which we had carefully treasured up lest we should require it, as before said, when the sun should fail us; also, we rolled up some dry grass and a few chips, which, with a little bow and drill, like those described before, we made into another bundle and wrapped it up in cocoa-nut cloth. When all was ready we laid aside our garments, with the exception of our trousers, which, as we did not know what rough scraping against the rocks we might be subjected to, we kept on. Then we advanced to the edge of the rocks--Jack carrying one bundle, with the torch; I the other, with the things for producing fire. "Now don't weary for us, Peterkin, should we be gone some time," said Jack. "We'll be sure to return in half-an-hour at the very latest, however interesting the cave should be, that we may relieve your mind." "Farewell!" said Peterkin, coming up to us with a look of deep but pretended solemnity, while he shook hands and kissed each of us on the cheek--"farewell! And while you are gone I shall repose my weary limbs under the shelter of this bush, and meditate on the changefulness of all things earthly, with special reference to the forsaken condition of a poor shipwrecked sailor-boy!" So saying, Peterkin waved his hand, turned from us, and cast himself upon the ground with a look of melancholy resignation, which was so well feigned that I would have thought it genuine had he not accompanied it with a gentle wink. We both laughed, and springing from the rocks together, plunged head first into the sea. We gained the interior of the submarine cave without difficulty, and on emerging from the waves, supported ourselves for some time by treading water, while we held the two bundles above our heads. This we did in order to let our eyes become accustomed to the obscurity. Then, when we could see sufficiently, we swam to a shelving rock, and landed in safety. Having wrung the water from our trousers, and dried ourselves as well as we could under the circumstances, we proceeded to ignite the torch. This we accomplished without difficulty in a few minutes; and no sooner did it flare up than we were struck dumb with the wonderful objects that were revealed to our gaze. The roof of the cavern just above us seemed to be about ten feet high, but grew higher as it receded into the distance until it was lost in darkness. It seemed to be made of coral, and was supported by massive columns of the same material. Immense icicles (as they appeared to us) hung from it in various places. These, however, were formed, not of ice, but of a species of limestone, which seemed to flow in a liquid form towards the point of each, where it became solid. A good many drops fell, however, to the rock below, and these formed little cones, which rose to meet the points above. Some of them had already met, and thus we saw how the pillars were formed, which at first seemed to us as if they had been placed there by some human architect to support the roof. As we advanced farther in we saw that the floor was composed of the same material as the pillars, and it presented the curious appearance of ripples such as are formed on water when gently ruffled by the wind. There were several openings on either hand in the walls that seemed to lead into other caverns, but these we did not explore at this time. We also observed that the ceiling was curiously marked in many places, as if it were the fretwork of a noble cathedral; and the walls, as well as the roof, sparkled in the light of our torch, and threw back gleams and flashes as if they were covered with precious stones. Although we proceeded far into this cavern, we did not come to the end of it; and we were obliged to return more speedily than we would otherwise have done, as our torch was nearly expended. We did not observe any openings in the roof, or any indications of places whereby light might enter; but near the entrance to the cavern stood an immense mass of pure-white coral rock, which caught and threw back the little light that found an entrance through the cave's mouth, and thus produced, we conjectured, the pale-green object which had first attracted our attention. We concluded, also, that the reflecting power of this rock was that which gave forth the dim light that faintly illumined the first part of the cave. Before diving through the passage again we extinguished the small piece of our torch that remained, and left it in a dry spot--conceiving that we might possibly stand in need of it if, at any future time, we should chance to wet our torch while diving into the cavern. As we stood for a few minutes after it was out, waiting till our eyes became accustomed to the gloom, we could not help remarking the deep, intense stillness and the unutterable gloom of all around us; and as I thought of the stupendous dome above, and the countless gems that had sparkled in the torchlight a few minutes before, it came into my mind to consider how strange it is that God should make such wonderful and exquisitely beautiful works never to be seen at all--except, indeed, by chance visitors such as ourselves. I afterwards found that there were many such caverns among the islands of the South Seas, some of them larger and more beautiful than the one I have just described. "Now, Ralph, are you ready?" said Jack in a low voice, that seemed to echo up into the dome above. "Quite ready." "Come along, then," said he; and plunging off the ledge of the rock into the water, we dived through the narrow entrance. In a few seconds we were panting on the rocks above, and receiving the congratulations of our friend Peterkin. CHAPTER FOURTEEN. STRANGE PECULIARITY OF THE TIDES--ALSO OF THE TWILIGHT--PETERKIN'S REMARKABLE CONDUCT IN EMBRACING A LITTLE PIG AND KILLING A BIG SOW--SAGE REMARKS ON JESTING--ALSO ON LOVE. It was quite a relief to us to breathe the pure air and to enjoy the glad sunshine after our long ramble in the Diamond Cave, as we named it; for although we did not stay more than half-an-hour away, it seemed to us much longer. While we were dressing, and during our walk home, we did our best to satisfy the curiosity of poor Peterkin, who seemed to regret, with lively sincerity, his inability to dive. There was no help for it, however, so we condoled with him as we best could. Had there been any great rise or fall in the tide of these seas, we might perhaps have found it possible to take him down with us at low water; but as the tide never rose or fell more than eighteen inches or two feet, this was impossible. This peculiarity of the tide--its slight rise and fall--had not attracted our observation till some time after our residence on the island. Neither had we observed another curious circumstance until we had been some time there. This was the fact that the tide rose and fell with constant regularity, instead of being affected by the changes of the moon as in our own country, and as it is in most other parts of the world--at least, in all those parts with which I am acquainted. Every day and every night, at twelve o'clock precisely, the tide is at the full; and at six o'clock, every morning and evening, it is ebb. I can speak with much confidence on this singular circumstance, as we took particular note of it, and never found it to alter. Of course I must admit we had to guess the hour of twelve midnight, and I think we could do this pretty correctly; but in regard to twelve noon we are quite positive, because we easily found the highest point that the sun reached in the sky by placing ourselves at a certain spot whence we observed the sharp summit of a cliff resting against the sky, just where the sun passed. Jack and I were surprised that we had not noticed this the first few days of our residence here, and could only account for it by our being so much taken up with the more obvious wonders of our novel situation. I have since learned, however, that this want of observation is a sad and very common infirmity of human nature, there being hundreds of persons before whose eyes the most wonderful things are passing every day who nevertheless, are totally ignorant of them. I therefore have to record my sympathy with such persons, and to recommend to them a course of conduct which I have now for a long time myself adopted--namely, the habit of forcing my attention upon all things that go on around me, and of taking some degree of interest in them whether I feel it naturally or not. I suggest this the more earnestly, though humbly, because I have very frequently come to know that my indifference to a thing has generally been caused by my ignorance in regard to it. We had much serious conversation on this subject of the tides; and Jack told us, in his own quiet, philosophical way, that these tides did great good to the world in many ways, particularly in the way of cleansing the shores of the land, and carrying off the filth that was constantly poured into the sea therefrom--which, Peterkin suggested, was remarkably tidy of it to do. Poor Peterkin could never let slip an opportunity to joke, however inopportune it might be, which at first we found rather a disagreeable propensity, as it often interrupted the flow of very agreeable conversation--and, indeed, I cannot too strongly record my disapprobation of this tendency in general; but we became so used to it at last that we found it no interruption whatever. Indeed, strange to say, we came to feel that it was a necessary part of our enjoyment (such is the force of habit), and found the sudden outbursts of mirth, resulting from his humorous disposition, quite natural and refreshing to us in the midst of our more serious conversations. But I must not misrepresent Peterkin. We often found, to our surprise, that he knew many things which we did not; and I also observed that those things which he learned from experience were never forgotten. From all these things I came at length to understand that things very opposite and dissimilar in themselves, when united, do make an agreeable whole; as, for example, we three on this our island, although most unlike in many things, when united, made a trio so harmonious that I question if there ever met before such an agreeable triumvirate. There was, indeed, no note of discord whatever in the symphony we played together on that sweet Coral Island; and I am now persuaded that this was owing to our having been all tuned to the same key--namely, that of _love_! Yes, we loved one another with much fervency while we lived on that island; and, for the matter of that, we love each other still. And while I am on this subject, or rather the subject that just preceded it--namely, the tides--I may here remark on another curious natural phenomenon. We found that there was little or no twilight in this island. We had a distinct remembrance of the charming long twilight at home, which some people think the most delightful part of the day-- though, for my part, I have always preferred sunrise; and when we first landed, we used to sit down on some rocky point or eminence, at the close of our day's work, to enjoy the evening breeze, but no sooner had the sun sunk below the horizon than all became suddenly dark. This rendered it necessary that we should watch the sun when we happened to be out hunting; for to be suddenly left in the dark while in the woods was very perplexing, as, although the stars shone with great beauty and brilliancy, they could not pierce through the thick umbrageous boughs that interlaced above our heads. But to return. After having told all we could to Peterkin about the Diamond Cave under Spouting Cliff, as we named the locality, we were wending our way rapidly homewards when a grunt and a squeal were borne down by the land breeze to our ears. "That's the ticket!" was Peterkin's remarkable exclamation as he started convulsively and levelled his spear. "Hist!" cried Jack; "these are your friends, Peterkin. They must have come over expressly to pay you a friendly visit, for it is the first time we have seen them on this side of the island." "Come along!" cried Peterkin, hurrying towards the wood; while Jack and I followed, smiling at his impatience. Another grunt and half-a-dozen squeals, much louder than before, came down the valley. At this time we were just opposite the small vale which lay between the Valley of the Wreck and Spouting Cliff. "I say, Peterkin!" cried Jack in a hoarse whisper. "Well, what is't?" "Stay a bit, man! These grunters are just up there on the hillside. If you go and stand with Ralph in the lee of yon cliff I'll cut round behind and drive them through the gorge, so that you'll have a better chance of picking out a good one. Now, mind you pitch into a fat young pig, Peterkin!" added Jack as he sprang into the bushes. "Won't I, just!" said Peterkin, licking his lips, as we took our station beside the cliff. "I feel quite a tender affection for young pigs in my heart. Perhaps it would be more correct to say in my tum--" "There they come!" cried I as a terrific yell from Jack sent the whole herd screaming down the hill. Now Peterkin, being unable to hold back, crept a short way up a very steep grassy mound in order to get a better view of the hogs before they came up; and just as he raised his head above its summit, two little pigs, which had outrun their companions, rushed over the top with the utmost precipitation. One of these brushed close past Peterkin's ear; the other, unable to arrest its headlong flight, went, as Peterkin himself afterwards expressed it, `bash' into his arms with a sudden squeal, which was caused more by the force of the blow than the will of the animal, and both of them rolled violently down to the foot of the mound. No sooner was this reached than the little pig recovered its feet, tossed up its tail, and fled shrieking from the spot. But I slung a large stone after it, which, being fortunately well aimed, hit it behind the ear and felled it to the earth. "Capital, Ralph! that's your sort!" cried Peterkin, who, to my surprise and great relief, had risen to his feet apparently unhurt, though much dishevelled. He rushed frantically towards the gorge, which the yells of the hogs told us they were now approaching. I had made up my mind that I would abstain from killing another, as, if Peterkin should be successful, two were more than sufficient for our wants at the present time. Suddenly they all burst forth--two or three little round ones in advance, and an enormous old sow with a drove of hogs at her heels. "Now, Peterkin," said I, "there's a nice little fat one; just spear it." But Peterkin did not move; he allowed it to pass unharmed. I looked at him in surprise, and saw that his lips were compressed and his eyebrows knitted, as if he were about to fight with some awful enemy. "What is it?" I inquired with some trepidation. Suddenly he levelled his spear, darted forward, and with a yell that nearly froze the blood in my veins, stabbed the old sow to the heart. Nay, so vigorously was it done that the spear went in at one side and came out at the other! "Oh Peterkin!" said I, going up to him, "what have you done?" "Done? I've killed their great-great-grandmother, that's all," said he, looking with a somewhat awestruck expression at the transfixed animal. "Hallo! what's this?" said Jack as he came up. "Why, Peterkin, you must be fond of a tough chop. If you mean to eat this old hog, she'll try your jaws, I warrant. What possessed you to stick _her_, Peterkin?" "Why, the fact is, I want a pair of shoes." "What have your shoes to do with the old hog?" said I, smiling. "My present shoes have certainly nothing to do with her," replied Peterkin; "nevertheless, she will have a good deal to do with my future shoes. The fact is, when I saw you floor that pig so neatly, Ralph, it struck me that there was little use in killing another. Then I remembered all at once that I had long wanted some leather or tough substance to make shoes of, and this old grandmother seemed so tough that I just made up my mind to stick her--and you see I've done it!" "That you certainly have, Peterkin," said Jack as he was examining the transfixed animal. We now considered how we were to carry our game home, for, although the distance was short, the hog was very heavy. At length we hit on the plan of tying its four feet together, and passing the spear-handle between them. Jack took one end on his shoulder, I took the other on mine, and Peterkin carried the small pig. Thus we returned in triumph to our bower, laden, as Peterkin remarked, with the glorious spoils of a noble hunt. As he afterwards spoke in similarly glowing terms in reference to the supper that followed, there is every reason to believe that we retired that night to our leafy beds in a high state of satisfaction. CHAPTER FIFTEEN. BOAT-BUILDING EXTRAORDINARY--PETERKIN TRIES HIS HAND AT COOKERY, AND FAILS MOST SIGNALLY--THE BOAT FINISHED--CURIOUS CONVERSATION WITH THE CAT, AND OTHER MATTERS. For many days after this, Jack applied himself with unremitting assiduity to the construction of our boat, which at length began to look something like one. But those only who have had the thing to do can entertain a right idea of the difficulty involved in such an undertaking, with no other implements than an axe, a bit of hoop-iron, a sail-needle, and a broken penknife. But Jack did it. He was of that disposition which _will_ not be conquered. When he believed himself to be acting rightly, he overcame all obstacles. I have seen Jack, when doubtful whether what he was about to do were right or wrong, as timid and vacillating as a little girl; and I honour him for it! As this boat was a curiosity in its way, a few words here relative to the manner of its construction may not be amiss. I have already mentioned the chestnut-tree with its wonderful buttresses or planks. This tree, then, furnished us with the chief part of our material. First of all, Jack sought out a limb of a tree of such a form and size as, while it should form the keel, a bend at either end should form the stem and stern-posts. Such a piece, however, was not easy to obtain; but at last he procured it by rooting up a small tree which had a branch growing at the proper angle about ten feet up its stem, with two strong roots growing in such a form as enabled him to make a flat-sterned boat. This placed, he procured three branching roots of suitable size, which he fitted to the keel at equal distances, thus forming three strong ribs. Now the squaring and shaping of these, and the cutting of the grooves in the keel, was an easy enough matter, as it was all work for the axe, in the use of which Jack was become wonderfully expert; but it was quite a different affair when he came to nailing the ribs to the keel, for we had no instrument capable of boring a large hole, and no nails to fasten them with. We were, indeed, much perplexed here; but Jack at length devised an instrument that served very well. He took the remainder of our hoop-iron and beat it into the form of a pipe or cylinder, about as thick as a man's finger. This he did by means of our axe and the old rusty axe we had found at the house of the poor man at the other side of the island. This, when made red hot, bored slowly through the timbers; and the better to retain the heat, Jack shut up one end of it and filled it with sand. True, the work was very slowly done; but it mattered not--we had little else to do. Two holes were bored in each timber, about an inch and a half apart, and also down into the keel, but not quite through. Into these were placed stout pegs made of a tree called iron-wood, and when they were hammered well home, the timbers were as firmly fixed as if they had been nailed with iron. The gunwales, which were very stout, were fixed in a similar manner. But besides the wooden nails, they were firmly lashed to the stem and stern-posts and ribs by means of a species of cordage which we had contrived to make out of the fibrous husk of the cocoa-nut. This husk was very tough, and when a number of the threads were joined together they formed excellent cordage. At first we tied the different lengths together; but this was such a clumsy and awkward complication of knots that we contrived, by careful interlacing of the ends together before twisting, to make good cordage of any size or length we chose. Of course it cost us much time and infinite labour; but Jack kept up our spirits when we grew weary, and so all that we required was at last constructed. Planks were now cut off the chestnut-trees of about an inch thick. These were dressed with the axe--but clumsily, for an axe is ill-adapted for such work. Five of these planks on each side were sufficient; and we formed the boat in a very rounded, barrel-like shape, in order to have as little twisting of the planks as possible, for although we could easily bend them, we could not easily twist them. Having no nails to rivet the planks with, we threw aside the ordinary fashion of boat-building and adopted one of our own. The planks were therefore placed on each other's edges, and sewed together with the tough cordage already mentioned; they were also thus sewed to the stem, the stern, and the keel. Each stitch or tie was six inches apart, and was formed thus: Three holes were bored in the upper plank and three in the lower, the holes being above each other--that is, in a vertical line. Through these holes the cord was passed, and when tied, formed a powerful stitch of three-ply. Besides this, we placed between the edges of the planks layers of cocoa-nut fibre, which, as it swelled when wetted, would, we hoped, make our little vessel water-tight. But in order further to secure this end, we collected a large quantity of pitch from the bread-fruit tree, with which, when boiled in our old iron pot, we paid the whole of the inside of the boat, and while it was yet hot, placed large pieces of cocoa-nut cloth on it, and then gave it another coat above that. Thus the interior was covered with a tough, water-tight material; while the exterior, being uncovered, and so exposed to the swelling action of the water, was, we hoped, likely to keep the boat quite dry. I may add that our hopes were not disappointed. While Jack was thus engaged, Peterkin and I sometimes assisted him; but as our assistance was not much required, we more frequently went a-hunting on the extensive mud-flats at the entrance of the long valley which lay nearest to our bower. Here we found large flocks of ducks of various kinds, some of them bearing so much resemblance to the wild ducks of our own country that I think they must have been the same. On these occasions we took the bow and the sling, with both of which we were often successful, though I must confess that I was the least so. Our suppers were thus pleasantly varied, and sometimes we had such a profusion spread out before us that we frequently knew not with which of the dainties to begin. I must also add that the poor old cat which we had brought home had always a liberal share of our good things; and so well was it looked after, especially by Peterkin, that it recovered much of its former strength, and seemed to improve in sight as well as hearing. The large flat stone, or rock of coral, which stood just in front of the entrance to our bower, was our table. On this rock we had spread out the few articles we possessed the day we were shipwrecked; and on the same rock, during many a day afterwards, we spread out the bountiful supply with which we had been blessed on our Coral Island. Sometimes we sat down at this table to a feast consisting of hot rolls--as Peterkin called the newly baked bread-fruit--a roast pig, roast duck, boiled and roasted yams, cocoa-nuts, taro, and sweet potatoes; which we followed up with a dessert of plums, apples, and plantains--the last being a large-sized and delightful fruit, which grew on a large shrub or tree not more than twelve feet high, with light-green leaves of enormous length and breadth. These luxurious feasts were usually washed down with cocoa-nut lemonade. Occasionally Peterkin tried to devise some new dish--"a conglomerate," as he used to say; but these generally turned out such atrocious compounds that he was ultimately induced to give up his attempts in extreme disgust--not forgetting, however, to point out to Jack that his failure was a direct contradiction to the proverb which he (Jack) was constantly thrusting down his throat--namely, that "where there's a will there's a way." For he had a great will to become a cook, but could by no means find a way to accomplish that end. One day, while Peterkin and I were seated beside our table, on which dinner was spread, Jack came up from the beach, and flinging down his axe, exclaimed: "There, lads, the boat's finished at last! So we've nothing to do now but shape two pair of oars, and then we may put to sea as soon as we like." This piece of news threw us into a state of great joy; for although we were aware that the boat had been gradually getting near its completion, it had taken so long that we did not expect it to be quite ready for at least two or three weeks. But Jack had wrought hard and said nothing, in order to surprise us. "My dear fellow," cried Peterkin, "you're a perfect trump! But why did you not tell us it was so nearly ready? Won't we have a jolly sail to-morrow, eh?" "Don't talk so much, Peterkin," said Jack; "and, pray, hand me a bit of that pig." "Certainly, my dear," cried Peterkin, seizing the axe. "What part will you have? A leg, or a wing, or a piece of the breast--which?" "A hind leg, if you please," answered Jack; "and, pray, be so good as to include the tail." "With all my heart," said Peterkin, exchanging the axe for his hoop-iron knife, with which he cut off the desired portion. "I'm only too glad, my dear boy, to see that your appetite is so wholesale, and there's no chance whatever of its dwindling down into re-tail again--at least, in so far as this pig is concerned.--Ralph, lad, why don't you laugh, eh?" he added, turning suddenly to me with a severe look of inquiry. "Laugh!" said I. "What at, Peterkin? Why should I laugh?" Both Jack and Peterkin answered this inquiry by themselves laughing so immoderately that I was induced to believe I had missed noticing some good joke, so I begged that it might be explained to me; but as this only produced repeated roars of laughter, I smiled and helped myself to another slice of plantain. "Well, but," continued Peterkin, "I was talking of a sail to-morrow. Can't we have one, Jack?" "No," replied Jack, "we can't have a sail; but I hope we shall have a row, as I intend to work hard at the oars this afternoon, and if we can't get them finished by sunset, we'll light our candle-nuts, and turn them out of hands before we turn into bed." "Very good," said Peterkin, tossing a lump of pork to the cat, who received it with a mew of satisfaction. "I'll help you, if I can." "Afterwards," continued Jack, "we will make a sail out of the cocoa-nut cloth, and rig up a mast; and then we shall be able to sail to some of the other islands, and visit our old friends the penguins." The prospect of being so soon in a position to extend our observations to the other islands, and enjoy a sail over the beautiful sea, afforded us much delight, and after dinner we set about making the oars in good earnest. Jack went into the woods and blocked them roughly out with the axe, and I smoothed them down with the knife, while Peterkin remained in the bower spinning, or rather twisting, some strong, thick cordage with which to fasten them to the boat. We worked hard and rapidly, so that when the sun went down Jack and I returned to the bower with four stout oars, which required little to be done to them save a slight degree of polishing with the knife. As we drew near we were suddenly arrested by the sound of a voice. We were not a little surprised at this--indeed, I may almost say alarmed; for although Peterkin was undoubtedly fond of talking, we had never, up to this time, found him talking to himself. We listened intently, and still heard the sound of a voice as if in conversation. Jack motioned me to be silent, and advancing to the bower on tiptoe, we peeped in. The sight that met our gaze was certainly not a little amusing. On the top of a log which we sometimes used as a table sat the black cat with a very demure expression on its countenance, and in front of it, sitting on the ground with his legs extended on either side of the log, was Peterkin. At the moment we saw him he was gazing intently into the cat's face, with his nose about four inches from it, his hands being thrust into his breeches pockets. "Cat," said Peterkin, turning his head a little on one side, "I love you!" There was a pause, as if Peterkin awaited a reply to this affectionate declaration. But the cat said nothing. "Do you hear me?" cried Peterkin sharply. "I love you--I do! Don't you love me?" To this touching appeal the cat said "mew" faintly. "Ah, that's right! You're a jolly old rascal! Why did you not speak at once, eh?" and Peterkin put forward his mouth and kissed the cat on the nose! "Yes," continued Peterkin after a pause, "I love you. D'you think I'd say so if I didn't, you black villain? I love you because I've got to take care of you, and to look after you, and to think about you, and to see that you don't die--" "Mew, me-a-w!" said the cat. "Very good," continued Peterkin; "quite true, I have no doubt. But you've no right to interrupt me, sir. Hold your tongue till I have done speaking. Moreover, cat, I love you because you came to me the first time you ever saw me, and didn't seem to be afraid, and appeared to be fond of me, though you didn't know that I wasn't going to kill you. Now that was brave, that was bold, and very jolly, old boy, and I love you for it--I do!" Again there was a pause of a few minutes, during which the cat looked placid, and Peterkin dropped his eyes upon its toes as if in contemplation. Suddenly he looked up. "Well, cat, what are you thinking about now? Won't speak, eh? Now tell me: don't you think it's a monstrous shame that those two scoundrels, Jack and Ralph, should keep us waiting for our supper so long?" Here the cat arose, put up its back and stretched itself, yawned slightly, and licked the point of Peterkin's nose! "Just so, old boy; you're a clever fellow.--I really do believe the brute understands me!" said Peterkin, while a broad grin overspread his face as he drew back and surveyed the cat. At this point Jack burst into a loud fit of laughter. The cat uttered an angry fuff and fled, while Peterkin sprang up and exclaimed: "Bad luck to you, Jack! You've nearly made the heart jump out of my body, you have!" "Perhaps I have," replied Jack, laughing, as we entered the bower; "but as I don't intend to keep you or the cat any longer from your supper, I hope that you'll both forgive me." Peterkin endeavoured to turn this affair off with a laugh. But I observed that he blushed very deeply at the time we discovered ourselves, and he did not seem to relish any allusion to the subject afterwards; so we refrained from remarking on it ever after, though it tickled us not a little at the time. After supper we retired to rest, and to dream of wonderful adventures in our little boat and distant voyages upon the sea. CHAPTER SIXTEEN. THE BOAT LAUNCHED--WE VISIT THE CORAL REEF--THE GREAT BREAKER THAT NEVER GOES DOWN--CORAL INSECTS--THE WAY IN WHICH CORAL ISLANDS ARE MADE--THE BOATS SAIL--WE TAX OUR INGENUITY TO FORM FISH-HOOKS--SOME OF THE FISH WE SAW--AND A MONSTROUS WHALE--WONDERFUL SHOWER OF LITTLE FISH-- WATERSPOUTS. It was a bright, clear, beautiful morning when we first launched our little boat and rowed out upon the placid waters of the lagoon. Not a breath of wind ruffled the surface of the deep. Not a cloud spotted the deep-blue sky. Not a sound that was discordant broke the stillness of the morning, although there were many sounds--sweet, tiny, and melodious--that mingled in the universal harmony of nature. The sun was just rising from the Pacific's ample bosom, and tipping the mountain-tops with a red glow. The sea was shining like a sheet of glass, yet heaving with the long, deep swell that, all the world round, indicates the life of Ocean; and the bright seaweeds and the brilliant corals shone in the depths of that pellucid water, as we rowed over it, like rare and precious gems. Oh, it was a sight fitted to stir the soul of man to its profoundest depths! and if he owned a heart at all, to lift that heart in adoration and gratitude to the great Creator of this magnificent and glorious universe! At first, in the strength of our delight, we rowed hither and thither without aim or object. But after the effervescence of our spirits was abated, we began to look about us and to consider what we should do. "I vote that we row to the reef," cried Peterkin. "And I vote that we visit the islands within the lagoon," said I. "And I vote we do both," cried Jack; "so pull away, boys!" As I have already said, we had made four oars; but our boat was so small that only two were necessary. The extra pair were reserved in case any accident should happen to the others. It was therefore only needful that two of us should row, while the third steered by means of an oar-- and relieved the rowers occasionally. First we landed on one of the small islands and ran all over it, but saw nothing worthy of particular notice. Then we landed on a larger island, on which were growing a few cocoa-nut trees. Not having eaten anything that morning, we gathered a few of the nuts and breakfasted. After this we pulled straight out to sea, and landed on the coral reef. This was indeed a novel and interesting sight to us. We had now been so long on shore that we had almost forgotten the appearance of breakers, for there were none within the lagoon. But now, as we stood beside the foam-crested billow of the open sea, all the enthusiasm of the sailor was awakened in our breasts; and as we gazed on the widespread ruin of that single magnificent breaker that burst in thunder at our feet, we forgot the Coral Island behind us, we forgot our bower and the calm repose of the scented woods, we forgot all that had passed during the last few months, and remembered nothing but the storms, the calms, the fresh breezes, and the surging billows of the open sea. This huge, ceaseless breaker, to which I have so often alluded, was a much larger and more sublime object than we had at all imagined it to be. It rose many yards above the level of the sea, and could be seen approaching at some distance from the reef. Slowly and majestically it came on, acquiring greater volume and velocity as it advanced, until it assumed the form of a clear watery arch, which sparkled in the bright sun. On it came with resistless and solemn majesty, the upper edge lipped gently over, and it fell with a roar that seemed as though the heart of Ocean were broken in the crash of tumultuous water, while the foam-clad coral reef appeared to tremble beneath the mighty shock! We gazed long and wonderingly at this great sight, and it was with difficulty we could tear ourselves away from it. As I have once before mentioned, this wave broke in many places over the reef and scattered some of its spray into the lagoon; but in most places the reef was sufficiently broad and elevated to receive and check its entire force. In many places the coral rocks were covered with vegetation--the beginning, as it appeared to us, of future islands. Thus, on this reef, we came to perceive how most of the small islands of those seas are formed. On one part we saw the spray of the breaker washing over the rocks, and millions of little, active, busy creatures continuing the work of building up this living rampart. At another place, which was just a little too high for the waves to wash over it, the coral insects were all dead; for we found that they never did their work above water. They had faithfully completed the mighty work which their Creator had given them to do, and they were now all dead. Again, in other spots the ceaseless lashing of the sea had broken the dead coral in pieces, and cast it up in the form of sand. Here sea-birds had alighted, little pieces of seaweed and stray bits of wood had been washed up, seeds of plants had been carried by the wind, and a few lovely blades of bright green had already sprung up, which, when they died, would increase the size and fertility of these emeralds of Ocean. At other places these islets had grown apace, and were shaded by one or two cocoa-nut trees, which grew literally in the sand, and were constantly washed by the ocean spray--yet, as I have before remarked, their fruit was most refreshing and sweet to our taste. Again, at this time Jack and I pondered the formation of the large coral islands. We could now understand how the low ones were formed; but the larger islands cost us much consideration, yet we could arrive at no certain conclusion on the subject. Having satisfied our curiosity, and enjoyed ourselves during the whole day in our little boat, we returned, somewhat wearied, and withal rather hungry, to our bower. "Now," said Jack, "as our boat answers so well we will get a mast and sail made immediately." "So we will!" cried Peterkin as we all assisted to drag the boat above high-water mark. "We'll light our candle and set about it this very night. Hurrah, my boys, pull away!" As we dragged our boat, we observed that she grated heavily on her keel; and as the sands were in this place mingled with broken coral rocks, we saw portions of the wood being scraped off. "Hallo!" cried Jack on seeing this, "that won't do. Our keel will be worn off in no time at this rate." "So it will," said I, pondering deeply as to how this might be prevented. But I am not of a mechanical turn naturally, so I could conceive no remedy save that of putting a plate of iron on the keel; but as we had no iron, I knew not what was to be done. "It seems to me, Jack," I added, "that it is impossible to prevent the keel being worn off thus." "Impossible?" cried Peterkin. "My dear Ralph, you are mistaken; there is nothing so easy." "How?" I inquired in some surprise. "Why, by not using the boat at all!" replied Peterkin. "Hold your impudent tongue, Peterkin!" said Jack as he shouldered the oars. "Come along with me, and I'll give you work to do. In the first place, you will go and collect coca-nut fibre, and set to work to make sewing-twine with it--" "Please, captain," interrupted Peterkin, "I've got lots of it made already--more than enough, as a little friend of mine used to be in the habit of saying every day after dinner." "Very well," continued Jack; "then you'll help Ralph to collect cocoa-nut cloth and cut it into shape, after which we'll make a sail of it. I'll see to getting the mast and the gearing; so let's to work." And to work we went right busily, so that in three days from that time we had set up a mast and sail, with the necessary rigging, in our little boat. The sail was not, indeed, very handsome to look at, as it was formed of a number of oblong patches of cloth; but we had sewed it well by means of our sail-needle, so that it was strong, which was the chief point.--Jack had also overcome the difficulty about the keel by pinning to it a _false_ keel. This was a piece of tough wood, of the same length and width as the real keel, and about five inches deep. He made it of this depth because the boat would be thereby rendered not only much more safe, but more able to beat against the wind--which, in a sea where the trade-winds blow so long and so steadily in one direction, was a matter of great importance. This piece of wood was pegged very firmly to the keel; and we now launched our boat with the satisfaction of knowing that when the false keel should be scraped off we could easily put on another,--whereas, should the real keel have been scraped away, we could not have renewed it without taking our boat to pieces, which Peterkin said made his "marrow quake to think upon." The mast and sail answered excellently; and we now sailed about in the lagoon with great delight, and examined with much interest the appearance of our island from a distance. Also, we gazed into the depths of the water, and watched for hours the gambols of the curious and bright-coloured fish among the corals and seaweed. Peterkin also made a fishing-line; and Jack constructed a number of hooks, some of which were very good, others remarkably bad. Some of these hooks were made of iron-wood--which did pretty well, the wood being extremely hard--and Jack made them very thick and large. Fish there are not particular. Some of the crooked bones in fish-heads also answered for this purpose pretty well. But that which formed our best and most serviceable hook was the brass finger-ring belonging to Jack. It gave him not a little trouble to manufacture it. First he cut it with the axe, then twisted it into the form of a hook. The barb took him several hours to cut. He did it by means of constant sawing with the broken penknife. As for the point, an hour's rubbing on a piece of sandstone made an excellent one. It would be a matter of much time and labour to describe the appearance of the multitudes of fish that were day after day drawn into our boat by means of the brass hook. Peterkin always caught them--for we observed that he derived much pleasure from fishing--while Jack and I found ample amusement in looking on, also in gazing down at the coral groves, and in baiting the hook. Among the fish that we saw, but did not catch, were porpoises and swordfish, whales and sharks. The porpoises came frequently into our lagoon in shoals, and amused us not a little by their bold leaps into the air and their playful gambols in the sea. The swordfish were wonderful creatures--some of them apparently ten feet in length, with an ivory spear six or eight feet long projecting from their noses. We often saw them darting after other fish, and no doubt they sometimes killed them with their ivory swords. Jack remembered having heard once of a swordfish attacking a ship, which seemed strange indeed; but as they are often in the habit of attacking whales, perhaps it mistook the ship for one. This swordfish ran against the vessel with such force that it drove its sword quite through the thick planks; and when the ship arrived in harbour, long afterwards, the sword was found still sticking in it! Sharks did not often appear; but we took care never again to bathe in deep water without leaving one of our number in the boat, to give us warning if he should see a shark approaching. As for the whales, they never came into our lagoon; but we frequently saw them spouting in the deep water beyond the reef. I shall never forget my surprise the first day I saw one of these huge monsters close to me. We had been rambling about on the reef during the morning, and were about to re-embark in our little boat to return home, when a loud blowing sound caused us to wheel rapidly round. We were just in time to see a shower of spray falling, and the flukes or tail of some monstrous fish disappear in the sea a few hundred yards off. We waited some time to see if he would rise again. As we stood, the sea seemed to open up at our very feet; an immense spout of water was sent with a snort high into the air, and the huge, blunt head of a sperm-whale rose before us. It was so large that it could easily have taken our little boat, along with ourselves, into its mouth! It plunged slowly back into the sea, like a large ship foundering, and struck the water with its tail so forcibly as to cause a sound like a cannon-shot. We also saw a great number of flying-fish, although we caught none; and we noticed that they never flew out of the water except when followed by their bitter foe the dolphin, from whom they thus endeavoured to escape. But of all the fish that we saw, none surprised us so much as those that we used to find in shallow pools after a shower of rain; and this not on account of their appearance, for they were ordinary-looking and very small, but on account of their having descended in a shower of rain! We could account for them in no other way, because the pools in which we found these fish were quite dry before the shower, and at some distance above high-water mark. Jack, however, suggested a cause which seemed to me very probable. We used often to see waterspouts in the sea. A waterspout is a whirling body of water, which rises from the sea like a sharp-pointed pillar. After rising a good way, it is met by a long tongue, which comes down from the clouds; and when the two have joined, they look something like an hour-glass. The waterspout is then carried by the wind--sometimes gently, sometimes with violence--over the sea, sometimes up into the clouds; and then, bursting asunder, it descends in a deluge. This often happens over the land as well as over the sea; and it sometimes does much damage, but frequently it passes gently away. Now, Jack thought that the little fish might perhaps have been carried up in a waterspout, and so sent down again in a shower of rain. But we could not be certain as to this point, yet we thought it likely. During these delightful fishing and boating excursions we caught a good many eels, which we found to be very good to eat. We also found turtles among the coral rocks, and made excellent soup in our iron kettle. Moreover, we discovered many shrimps and prawns, so that we had no lack of variety in our food; and, indeed, we never passed a week without making some new and interesting discovery of some sort or other, either on the land or in the sea. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. A MONSTER WAVE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES--THE BOAT LOST AND FOUND--PETERKIN'S TERRIBLE ACCIDENT--SUPPLIES OF FOOD FOR A VOYAGE IN THE BOAT--WE VISIT PENGUIN ISLAND, AND ARE AMAZED BEYOND MEASURE--ACCOUNT OF THE PENGUINS. One day, not long after our little boat was finished, we were sitting on the rocks at Spouting Cliff, and talking of an excursion which we intended to make to Penguin Island the next day. "You see," said Peterkin, "it might be all very well for a stupid fellow like me to remain here and leave the penguins alone; but it would be quite inconsistent with your characters as philosophers to remain any longer in ignorance of the habits and customs of these birds, so the sooner we go the better." "Very true," said I. "There is nothing I desire so much as to have a closer inspection of them." "And I think," said Jack, "that you had better remain at home, Peterkin, to take care of the cat; for I'm sure the hogs will be at it in your absence, out of revenge for your killing their great-grandmother so recklessly." "Stay at home!" cried Peterkin. "My dear fellow, you would certainly lose your way, or get upset, if I were not there to take care of you." "Ah, true!" said Jack gravely; "that did not occur to me. No doubt you must go. Our boat does require a good deal of ballast; and all that you say, Peterkin, carries so much weight with it that we won't need stones if you go." Now, while my companions were talking, a notable event occurred, which, as it is not generally known, I shall be particular in recording here. While we were talking, as I have said, we noticed a dark line, like a low cloud or fog-bank, on the seaward horizon. The day was a fine one, though cloudy, and a gentle breeze was blowing; but the sea was not rougher, or the breaker on the reef higher, than usual. At first we thought that this looked like a thundercloud, and as we had had a good deal of broken weather of late, accompanied by occasional peals of thunder, we supposed that a storm must be approaching. Gradually, however, this line seemed to draw nearer without spreading up over the sky, as would certainly have been the case if it had been a storm-cloud. Still nearer it came, and soon we saw that it was moving swiftly towards the island; but there was no sound till it reached the islands out at sea. As it passed these islands we observed, with no little anxiety, that a cloud of white foam encircled them, and burst in spray into the air; it was accompanied by a loud roar. This led us to conjecture that the approaching object was an enormous wave of the sea; but we had no idea how large it was till it came near to ourselves. When it approached the outer reef, however, we were awestruck with its unusual magnitude; and we sprang to our feet, and clambered hastily up to the highest point of the precipice, under an indefinable feeling of fear. I have said before that the reef opposite Spouting Cliff was very near to the shore, while just in front of the bower it was at a considerable distance out to sea. Owing to this formation, the wave reached the reef at the latter point before it struck at the foot of Spouting Cliff. The instant it touched the reef we became aware, for the first time, of its awful magnitude. It burst completely over the reef at all points with a roar that seemed louder to me than thunder, and this roar continued for some seconds while the wave rolled gradually along towards the cliff on which we stood. As its crest reared before us we felt that we were in great danger, and turned to flee; but we were too late. With a crash that seemed to shake the solid rock, the gigantic billow fell, and instantly the spouting-holes sent up a gush of waterspouts with such force that they shrieked on issuing from their narrow vents. It seemed to us as if the earth had been blown up with water. We were stunned and confused by the shock, and so drenched and blinded with spray that we knew not for a few moments whither to flee for shelter. At length we all three gained an eminence beyond the reach of the water. But what a scene of devastation met our gaze as we looked along the shore! This enormous wave not only burst over the reef, but continued its way across the lagoon, and fell on the sandy beach of the island with such force that it passed completely over it and dashed into the woods, levelling the smaller trees and bushes in its headlong course. On seeing this, Jack said he feared our bower must have been swept away, and that the boat, which was on the beach, must have been utterly destroyed. Our hearts sank within us as we thought of this, and we hastened round through the woods towards our home. On reaching it we found, to our great relief of mind, that the force of the wave had been expended just before reaching the bower; but the entrance to it was almost blocked up by the torn-up bushes and tangled heaps of seaweed. Having satisfied ourselves as to the bower, we hurried to the spot where the boat had been left; but no boat was there. The spot on which it had stood was vacant, and no sign of it could we see on looking around us. "It may have been washed up into the woods," said Jack, hurrying up the beach as he spoke. Still no boat was to be seen, and we were about to give ourselves over to despair when Peterkin called to Jack and said: "Jack, my friend, you were once so exceedingly sagacious and wise as to make me acquainted with the fact that cocoa-nuts grow upon trees. Will you now be so good as to inform me what sort of fruit that is growing on the top of yonder bush? for I confess to being ignorant, or at least doubtful, on the point." We looked towards the bush indicated, and there, to our surprise, beheld our little boat snugly nestled among the leaves. We were very much overjoyed at this, for we would have suffered any loss rather than the loss of our boat. We found that the wave had actually borne the boat on its crest from the beach into the woods, and there launched it into the heart of this bush, which was extremely fortunate; for had it been tossed against a rock or a tree, it would have been dashed to pieces, whereas it had not received the smallest injury. It was no easy matter, however, to get it out of the bush and down to the sea again. This cost us two days of hard labour to accomplish. We had also much ado to clear away the rubbish from before the bower, and spent nearly a week in constant labour ere we got the neighbourhood to look as clean and orderly as before; for the uprooted bushes and seaweed that lay on the beach formed a more dreadfully confused-looking mass than one who had not seen the place after the inundation could conceive. Before leaving the subject I may mention, for the sake of those who interest themselves in the curious natural phenomena of our world, that this gigantic wave occurs regularly on some of the islands of the Pacific once, and sometimes twice, in the year. I heard this stated by the missionaries during my career in those seas. They could not tell me whether it visited all of the islands, but I was certainly assured that it occurred periodically in some of them. After we had got our home put to rights, and cleared of the debris of the inundation, we again turned our thoughts to paying the penguins a visit. The boat was therefore overhauled and a few repairs done. Then we prepared a supply of provisions, for we intended to be absent at least a night or two--perhaps longer. This took us some time to do; for, while Jack was busy with the boat, Peterkin was sent into the woods to spear a hog or two, and had to search long, sometimes, ere he found them. Peterkin was usually sent on this errand when we wanted a pork chop (which was not seldom), because he was so active and could run so wonderfully fast that he found no difficulty in overtaking the hogs; but being dreadfully reckless, he almost invariably tumbled over stumps and stones in the course of his wild chase, and seldom returned home without having knocked the skin off his shins. Once, indeed, a more serious accident happened to him. He had been out all the morning alone, and did not return at the usual time to dinner. We wondered at this, for Peterkin was always very punctual at the dinner-hour. As supper-time drew near we began to be anxious about him, and at length sallied forth to search the woods. For a long time we sought in vain; but a little before dark we came upon the tracks of the hogs, which we followed up until we came to the brow of a rather steep bank or precipice. Looking over this, we beheld Peterkin lying in a state of insensibility at the foot, with his cheek resting on the snout of a little pig, which was pinned to the earth by the spear. We were dreadfully alarmed, but hastened to bathe his forehead with water, and had soon the satisfaction of seeing him revive. After we had carried him home, he related to us how the thing had happened. "You must know," said he, "I walked about all the forenoon, till I was as tired as an old donkey, without seeing a single grunter--not so much as a track of one; but as I was determined not to return empty-handed, I resolved to go without my dinner, and--" "What!" exclaimed Jack, "did you _really_ resolve to do that?" "Now, Jack, hold your tongue," returned Peterkin. "I say that I resolved to forego my dinner and to push to the head of the small valley, where I felt pretty sure of discovering the hogs. I soon found that I was on the right scent, for I had scarcely walked half-a-mile in the direction of the small plum-tree we found there the other day when a squeak fell on my ear. `Ho, ho,' said I, `there you go, my boys;' and I hurried up the glen. I soon started them, and singling out a fat pig, ran tilt at him. In a few seconds I was up with him, and stuck my spear right through his dumpy body. Just as I did so, I saw that we were on the edge of a precipice--whether high or low, I knew not; but I had been running at such a pace that I could not stop, so the pig and I gave a howl in concert and went plunging over together. I remembered nothing more after that till I came to my senses, and found you bathing my temples, and Ralph wringing his hands over me." But although Peterkin was often unfortunate in the way of getting tumbles, he was successful on the present occasion in hunting, and returned before evening with three very nice little hogs. I also was successful in my visit to the mud-flats, where I killed several ducks. So that when we launched and loaded our boat at sunrise the following morning, we found our store of provisions to be more than sufficient. Part had been cooked the night before, and on taking note of the different items, we found the account to stand thus: 10 Bread-fruits (two baked, eight unbaked). 20 Yams (six roasted, the rest raw). 6 Taro-roots. 50 Fine large plums. 6 Cocoa-nuts, ripe. 6 Ditto, green (for drinking). 4 Large ducks and two small ones, raw. 3 Cold roast pigs, with stuffing. I may here remark that the stuffing had been devised by Peterkin specially for the occasion. He kept the manner of its compounding a profound secret, so I cannot tell what it was; but I can say, with much confidence, that we found it to be atrociously bad, and after the first tasting, scraped it carefully out and threw it overboard. We calculated that this supply would last us for several days; but we afterwards found that it was much more than we required, especially in regard to the cocoa-nuts, of which we found large supplies wherever we went. However, as Peterkin remarked, it was better to have too much than too little, as we knew not to what straits we might be put during our voyage. It was a very calm, sunny morning when we launched forth and rowed over the lagoon towards the outlet in the reef, and passed between the two green islets that guarded the entrance. We experienced some difficulty and no little danger in passing the surf of the breaker, and shipped a good deal of water in the attempt; but once past the billow, we found ourselves floating placidly on the long, oily swell that rose and fell slowly as it rolled over the wide ocean. Penguin Island lay on the other side of our own island, at about a mile beyond the outer reef, and we calculated that it must be at least twenty miles distant by the way we should have to go. We might, indeed, have shortened the way by coasting round our island inside of the lagoon, and going out at the passage in the reef nearly opposite to Penguin Island; but we preferred to go by the open sea--first, because it was more adventurous, and secondly, because we should have the pleasure of again feeling the motion of the deep, which we all loved very much, not being liable to sea-sickness. "I wish we had a breeze," said Jack. "So do I," cried Peterkin, resting on his oar and wiping his heated brow; "pulling is hard work. Oh dear, if we could only catch a hundred or two of these gulls, tie them to the boat with long strings, and make them fly as we want them, how capital it would be!" "Or bore a hole through a shark's tail and reeve a rope through it, eh?" remarked Jack. "But, I say, it seems that my wish is going to be granted, for here comes a breeze. Ship your oar, Peterkin.--Up with the mast, Ralph; I'll see to the sail. Mind your helm; look out for squalls!" This last speech was caused by the sudden appearance of a dark-blue line on the horizon, which, in an incredibly short space of time, swept down on us, lashing up the sea in white foam as it went. We presented the stern of the boat to its first violence, and in a few seconds it moderated into a steady breeze, to which we spread our sail and flew merrily over the waves. Although the breeze died away soon afterwards, it had been so stiff while it lasted that we were carried over the greater part of our way before it fell calm again; so that when the flapping of the sail against the mast told us that it was time to resume the oars, we were not much more than a mile from Penguin Island. "There go the soldiers!" cried Peterkin as we came in sight of it. "How spruce their white trousers look this morning! I wonder if they will receive us kindly?--D'you think they are hospitable, Jack?" "Don't talk, Peterkin, but pull away, and you shall see shortly." As we drew near to the island, we were much amused by the manoeuvres and appearance of these strange birds. They seemed to be of different species: for some had crests on their heads, while others had none; and while some were about the size of a goose, others appeared nearly as large as a swan. We also saw a huge albatross soaring above the heads of the penguins. It was followed and surrounded by numerous flocks of sea-gulls. Having approached to within a few yards of the island, which was a low rock, with no other vegetation on it than a few bushes, we lay on our oars and gazed at the birds with surprise and pleasure, they returning our gaze with interest. We now saw that their soldierlike appearance was owing to the stiff erect manner in which they sat on their short legs--"bolt-upright," as Peterkin expressed it. They had black heads, long, sharp beaks, white breasts, and bluish backs. Their wings were so short that they looked more like the fins of a fish, and indeed we soon saw that they used them for the purpose of swimming under water. There were no quills on these wings, but a sort of scaly feathers, which also thickly covered their bodies. Their legs were short, and placed so far back that the birds, while on land, were obliged to stand quite upright in order to keep their balance; but in the water they floated like other water-fowl. At first we were so stunned with the clamour which they and other sea-birds kept up around us that we knew not which way to look, for they covered the rocks in thousands; but as we continued to gaze, we observed several quadrupeds (as we thought) walking in the midst of the penguins. "Pull in a bit," cried Peterkin, "and let's see what these are. They must be fond of noisy company to consort with such creatures." To our surprise, we found that these were no other than penguins which had gone down on all fours, and were crawling among the bushes on their feet and wings, just like quadrupeds. Suddenly one big old bird, that had been sitting on a point very near to us, gazing in mute astonishment, became alarmed, and scuttling down the rocks, plumped or fell, rather than ran, into the sea. It dived in a moment, and, a few seconds afterwards, came out of the water far ahead with such a spring, and such a dive back into the sea again, that we could scarcely believe it was not a fish that had leaped in sport. "That beats everything!" said Peterkin, rubbing his nose, and screwing up his face with an expression of exasperated amazement. "I've heard of a thing being neither fish, flesh, nor fowl; but I never did expect to live to see a brute that was all three together--at once--in one! But look there!" he continued, pointing with a look of resignation to the shore--"look there! there's no end to it. What has that brute got under its tail?" We turned to look in the direction pointed out, and there saw a penguin walking slowly and very sedately along the shore with an egg under its tail. There were several others, we observed, burdened in the same way; and we found afterwards that these were a species of penguin that always carried their eggs so. Indeed, they had a most convenient cavity for the purpose, just between the tail and the legs. We were very much impressed with the regularity and order of this colony. The island seemed to be apportioned out into squares, of which each penguin possessed one, and sat in stiff solemnity in the middle of it, or took a slow march up and down the spaces between. Some were hatching their eggs, but others were feeding their young ones in a manner that caused us to laugh not a little. The mother stood on a mound or raised rock, while the young one stood patiently below her on the ground. Suddenly the mother raised her head and uttered a series of the most discordant cackling sounds. "She's going to choke," cried Peterkin. But this was not the case, although, I confess, she looked like it. In a few seconds she put down her head and opened her mouth, into which the young one thrust its beak and seemed to suck something from her throat. Then the cackling was renewed, the sucking continued, and so the operation of feeding was carried on till the young one was satisfied; but what she fed her little one with we could not tell. "Now, just look yonder!" said Peterkin in an excited tone. "If that isn't the most abominable piece of maternal deception I ever saw! That rascally old lady penguin has just pitched her young one into the sea, and there's another about to follow her example." This indeed seemed to be the case, for on the top of a steep rock close to the edge of the sea we observed an old penguin endeavouring to entice her young one into the water; but the young one seemed very unwilling to go, and notwithstanding the enticements of its mother, moved very slowly towards her. At last she went gently behind the young bird and pushed it a little towards the water, but with great tenderness, as much as to say, "Don't be afraid, darling; I won't hurt you, my pet!" But no sooner did she get it to the edge of the rock, where it stood looking pensively down at the sea, than she gave it a sudden and violent push, sending it headlong down the slope into the water, where its mother left it to scramble ashore as it best could. We observed many of them employed in doing this, and we came to the conclusion that this is the way in which old penguins teach their children to swim. Scarcely had we finished making our remarks on this, when we were startled by about a dozen of the old birds hopping in the most clumsy and ludicrous manner towards the sea. The beach here was a sloping rock, and when they came to it some of them succeeded in hopping down in safety, but others lost their balance and rolled and scrambled down the slope in the most helpless manner. The instant they reached the water, however, they seemed to be in their proper element. They dived, and bounded out of it and into it again with the utmost agility; and so, diving and bounding and sputtering--for they could not fly--they went rapidly out to sea. On seeing this, Peterkin turned with a grave face to us and said, "It's my opinion that these birds are all stark, staring mad, and that this is an enchanted island. I therefore propose that we should either put about ship and fly in terror from the spot, or land valorously on the island and sell our lives as dearly as we can." "I vote for landing; so pull in, lads!" said Jack, giving a stroke with his oar that made the boat spin. In a few seconds we ran the boat into a little creek, where we made her fast to a projecting piece of coral, and running up the beach, entered the ranks of the penguins, armed with our cudgels and our spear. We were greatly surprised to find that instead of attacking us, or showing signs of fear at our approach, these curious birds did not move from their places until we laid hands on them, and merely turned their eyes on us in solemn, stupid wonder as we passed. There was one old penguin, however, that began to walk slowly towards the sea; and Peterkin took it into his head that he would try to interrupt its progress, so he ran between it and the sea and brandished his cudgel in its face. But this proved to be a resolute old bird. It would not retreat; nay, more, it would not cease to advance, but battled with Peterkin bravely, and drove him before it until it reached the sea. Had Peterkin used his club he could easily have felled it, no doubt; but as he had no wish to do so cruel an act merely out of sport, he let the bird escape. We spent fully three hours on this island in watching the habit of these curious birds; but when we finally left them, we all three concluded, after much consultation, that they were the most wonderful creatures we had ever seen, and further, we thought it probable that they were the most wonderful creatures in the world! CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. AN AWFUL STORM AND ITS CONSEQUENCES--NARROW ESCAPE--A ROCK PROVES A SURE FOUNDATION--A FEARFUL NIGHT AND A BRIGHT MORNING--DELIVERANCE FROM DANGER. It was evening before we left the island of the penguins. As we had made up our minds to encamp for the night on a small island whereon grew a few cocoa-nut trees, which was about two miles off, we lay-to our oars with some energy. But a danger was in store for us which we had not anticipated. The wind, which had carried us so quickly to Penguin Island, freshened as evening drew on to a stiff breeze, and before we had made half the distance to the small island, it became a regular gale. Although it was not so directly against us as to prevent our rowing in the course we wished to go, yet it checked us very much; and although the force of the sea was somewhat broken by the island, the waves soon began to rise and to roll their broken crests against our small craft, so that she began to take in water, and we had much ado to keep ourselves afloat. At last the wind and sea together became so violent that we found it impossible to make the island; so Jack suddenly put the head of the boat round, and ordered Peterkin and me to hoist a corner of the sail, intending to run back to Penguin Island. "We shall at least have the shelter of the bushes," he said as the boat flew before the wind, "and the penguins will keep us company." As Jack spoke, the wind suddenly shifted and blew so much against us that we were forced to hoist more of the sail in order to beat up for the island, being by this change thrown much to leeward of it. What made matters worse was that the gale came in squalls, so that we were more than once nearly upset. "Stand by, both of you!" cried Jack in a quick, earnest tone. "Be ready to deuce the sail. I very much fear we won't make the island after all." Peterkin and I were so much in the habit of trusting everything to Jack that we had fallen into the way of not considering things, especially such things as were under Jack's care. We had, therefore, never doubted for a moment that all was going well, so that it was with no little anxiety that we heard him make the above remark. However, we had no time for question or surmise, for at the moment he spoke a heavy squall was bearing down upon us, and as we were then flying with our lee gunwale dipping occasionally under the waves, it was evident that we should have to lower our sail altogether. In a few seconds the squall struck the boat; but Peterkin and I had the sail down in a moment, so that it did not upset us. But when it was past we were more than half-full of water. This I soon bailed out, while Peterkin again hoisted a corner of the sail. But the evil which Jack had feared came upon us. We found it quite impossible to make Penguin Island. The gale carried us quickly past it towards the open sea, and the terrible truth flashed upon us that we should be swept out and left to perish miserably in a small boat in the midst of the wide ocean. This idea was forced very strongly upon us, because we saw nothing in the direction whither the wind was blowing us save the raging billows of the sea; and indeed we trembled as we gazed around us, for we were now beyond the shelter of the islands, and it seemed as though any of the huge billows, which curled over in masses of foam, might swallow us up in a moment. The water also began to wash in over our sides, and I had to keep constantly bailing; for Jack could not quit the helm, nor Peterkin the sail, for an instant, without endangering our lives. In the midst of this distress Jack uttered an exclamation of hope, and pointed towards a low island or rock which lay directly ahead. It had been hitherto unobserved, owing to the dark clouds that obscured the sky and the blinding spray that seemed to fill the whole atmosphere. As we neared this rock we observed that it was quite destitute of trees and verdure, and so low that the sea broke completely over it. In fact, it was nothing more than the summit of one of the coral formations, which rose only a few feet above the level of the water, and was, in stormy weather, all but invisible. Over this island the waves were breaking in the utmost fury, and our hearts sank within us as we saw that there was not a spot where we could thrust our little boat without its being dashed to pieces. "Show a little bit more sail!" cried Jack as we swept past the weather side of the rock with fearful speed. "Ay, ay!" answered Peterkin, hoisting about a foot more of our sail. Little though the addition was, it caused the boat to lie over and creak so loudly, as we cleft the foaming waves, that I expected to be upset every instant; and I blamed Jack in my heart for his rashness. But I did him injustice; for although during two seconds the water rushed inboard in a torrent, he succeeded in steering us sharply round to the leeward side of the rock, where the water was comparatively calm and the force of the breeze broken. "Out your oars now, lads! That's well done! Give way!" We obeyed instantly. The oars splashed into the waves together. One good, hearty pull, and we were floating in a comparatively calm creek that was so narrow as to be barely able to admit our boat. Here we were in perfect safety, and as we leaped on shore and fastened our cable to the rocks, I thanked God in my heart for our deliverance from so great danger. But although I have said we were now in safety, I suspect that few of my readers would have envied our position. It is true we had no lack of food; but we were drenched to the skin; the sea was foaming round us, and the spray flying over our heads, so that we were completely enveloped, as it were, in water; the spot on which we had landed was not more than twelve yards in diameter, and from this spot we could not move without the risk of being swept away by the storm. At the upper end of the creek was a small hollow or cave in the rock, which sheltered us from the fury of the winds and waves; and as the rock extended in a sort of ledge over our heads, it prevented the spray from falling upon us. "Why," said Peterkin, beginning to feel cheery again, "it seems to me that we have got into a mermaid's cave, for there is nothing but water all round us; and as for earth and sky, they are things of the past." Peterkin's idea was not inappropriate, for what with the sea roaring in white foam up to our very feet, and the spray flying in white sheets continually over our heads, and the water dripping heavily from the ledge above like a curtain in front of our cave, it did seem to us very much more like being below than above water. "Now, boys," cried Jack, "bestir yourselves, and let's make ourselves comfortable.--Toss out our provisions, Peterkin; and here, Ralph, lend a hand to haul up the boat. Look sharp!" "Ay, ay, captain!" we cried as we hastened to obey, much cheered by the hearty manner of our comrade. Fortunately the cave, although not very deep, was quite dry, so that we succeeded in making ourselves much more comfortable than could have been expected. We landed our provisions, wrung the water out of our garments, spread our sail below us for a carpet, and after having eaten a hearty meal, began to feel quite cheerful. But as night drew on our spirits sank again, for with the daylight all evidence of our security vanished away. We could no longer see the firm rock on which we lay, while we were stunned with the violence of the tempest that raged around us. The night grew pitchy dark as it advanced, so that we could not see our hands when we held them up before our eyes, and were obliged to feel each other occasionally to make sure that we were safe, for the storm at last became so terrible that it was difficult to make our voices audible. A slight variation of the wind, as we supposed, caused a few drops of spray ever and anon to blow into our faces; and the eddy of the sea, in its mad boiling, washed up into our little creek until it reached our feet and threatened to tear away our boat. In order to prevent this latter calamity, we hauled the boat farther up and held the cable in our hands. Occasional flashes of lightning shone with a ghastly glare through the watery curtains around us, and lent additional horror to the scene. Yet we longed for those dismal flashes, for they were less appalling than the thick blackness that succeeded them. Crashing peals of thunder seemed to tear the skies in twain, and fell upon our ears through the wild yelling of the hurricane as if it had been but a gentle summer breeze; while the billows burst upon the weather side of the island until we fancied that the solid rock was giving way, and in our agony we clung to the bare ground, expecting every moment to be whirled away and whelmed in the black, howling sea. Oh, it was a night of terrible anxiety! and no one can conceive the feelings of intense gratitude and relief with which we at last saw the dawn of day break through the vapoury mists around us. For three days and three nights we remained on this rock, while the storm continued to rage with unabated fury. On the morning of the fourth day it suddenly ceased, and the wind fell altogether; but the waves still ran so high that we did not dare to put off in our boat. During the greater part of this period we scarcely slept above a few minutes at a time; but on the third night we slept soundly, and awoke early on the fourth morning to find the sea very much down, and the sun shining brightly again in the clear blue sky. It was with light hearts that we launched forth once more in our little boat and steered away for our island home, which, we were overjoyed to find, was quite visible on the horizon, for we had feared that we had been blown out of sight of it altogether. As it was a dead calm, we had to row during the greater part of the day; but towards the afternoon a fair breeze sprang up, which enabled us to hoist our sail. We soon passed Penguin Island and the other island which we had failed to reach on the day the storm commenced; but as we had still enough of provisions, and were anxious to get home, we did not land--to the great disappointment of Peterkin, who seemed to entertain quite an affection for the penguins. Although the breeze was pretty fresh for several hours, we did not reach the outer reef of our island till nightfall; and before we had sailed more than a hundred yards into the lagoon, the wind died away altogether, so that we had to take to our oars again. It was late, and the moon and stars were shining brightly when we arrived opposite the bower and leaped upon the strand. So glad were we to be safe back again on our beloved island that we scarcely took time to drag the boat a short way up the beach, and then ran up to see that all was right at the bower. I must confess, however, that my joy was mingled with a vague sort of fear lest our home had been visited and destroyed during our absence; but on reaching it we found everything just as it had been left, and the poor black cat curled up, sound asleep, on the coral table in front of our humble dwelling. CHAPTER NINETEEN. SHOEMAKING--THE EVEN TENOR OF OUR WAY SUDDENLY INTERRUPTED--AN UNEXPECTED VISIT AND AN APPALLING BATTLE--WE ALL BECOME WARRIORS, AND JACK PROVES HIMSELF TO BE A HERO. For many months after this we continued to live on our island in uninterrupted harmony and happiness. Sometimes we went out a-fishing in the lagoon, and sometimes went a-hunting in the woods, or ascended to the mountain-top by way of variety, although Peterkin always asserted that we went for the purpose of hailing any ship that might chance to heave in sight. But I am certain that none of us wished to be delivered from our captivity, for we were extremely happy; and Peterkin used to say that as we were very young, we should not feel the loss of a year or two. Peterkin, as I have said before, was thirteen years of age, Jack eighteen, and I fifteen. But Jack was very tall, strong, and manly for his age, and might easily have been mistaken for twenty. The climate was so beautiful that it seemed to be a perpetual summer, and as many of the fruit-trees continued to bear fruit and blossom all the year round, we never wanted for a plentiful supply of food. The hogs, too, seemed rather to increase than diminish, although Peterkin was very frequent in his attacks on them with his spear. If at any time we failed in finding a drove, we had only to pay a visit to the plum-tree before mentioned, where we always found a large family of them asleep under its branches. We employed ourselves very busily during this time in making various garments of cocoa-nut cloth, as those with which we had landed were beginning to be very ragged. Peterkin also succeeded in making excellent shoes out of the skin of the old hog in the following manner: He first cut a piece of the hide, of an oblong form, a few inches longer than his foot. This he soaked in water, and while it was wet he sewed up one end of it so as to form a rough imitation of that part of the heel of a shoe where the seam is. This done, he bored a row of holes all round the edge of the piece of skin, through which a tough line was passed. Into the sewed-up part of this shoe he thrust his heel; then, drawing the string tight, the edges rose up and overlapped his foot all round. It is true there were a great many ill-looking puckers in these shoes; but we found them very serviceable notwithstanding, and Jack came at last to prefer them to his long boots. We also made various other useful articles, which added to our comfort, and once or twice spoke of building us a house; but we had so great an affection for the bower, and withal found it so serviceable, that we determined not to leave it, nor to attempt the building of a house, which in such a climate might turn out to be rather disagreeable than useful. We often examined the pistol that we had found in the house on the other side of the island, and Peterkin wished much that we had powder and shot, as it would render pig-killing much easier; but, after all, we had become so expert in the use of our sling and bow and spear that we were independent of more deadly weapons. Diving in the Water Garden also continued to afford us as much pleasure as ever, and Peterkin began to be a little more expert in the water from constant practice. As for Jack and me, we began to feel as if water were our native element, and revelled in it with so much confidence and comfort that Peterkin said he feared we would turn into fish some day and swim off and leave him, adding that he had been for a long time observing that Jack was becoming more and more like a shark every day. Whereupon Jack remarked that if he (Peterkin) were changed into a fish, he would certainly turn into nothing better or bigger than a shrimp. Poor Peterkin did not envy us our delightful excursions under water-- except, indeed, when Jack would dive down to the bottom of the Water Garden, sit down on a rock, and look up and make faces at him. Peterkin did feel envious then, and often said he would give anything to be able to do that. I was much amused when Peterkin said this; for if he could only have seen his own face when he happened to take a short dive, he would have seen that Jack's was far surpassed by it--the great difference being, however, that Jack made faces on purpose, Peterkin couldn't help it! Now, while we were engaged with these occupations and amusements, an event occurred one day which was as unexpected as it was exceedingly alarming and very horrible. Jack and I were sitting, as we were often wont to do, on the rocks at Spouting Cliff, and Peterkin was wringing the water from his garments, having recently fallen by accident into the sea--a thing he was constantly doing--when our attention was suddenly arrested by two objects which appeared on the horizon. "What are yon, think you?" I said, addressing Jack. "I can't imagine," answered he. "I've noticed them for some time, and fancied they were black sea-gulls; but the more I look at them, the more I feel convinced they are much larger than gulls." "They seem to be coming towards us," said I. "Hallo! what's wrong?" inquired Peterkin, coming up. "Look there," said Jack. "Whales!" cried Peterkin, shading his eyes with his hand. "No--eh--can they be boats, Jack?" Our hearts beat with excitement at the very thought of seeing human faces again. "I think you are about right, Peterkin. But they seem to me to move strangely for boats," said Jack in a low tone, as if he were talking to himself. I noticed that a shade of anxiety crossed Jack's countenance as he gazed long and intently at the two objects, which were now nearing us fast. At last he sprang to his feet. "They are canoes, Ralph! whether war-canoes or not, I cannot tell; but this I know--that all the natives of the South Sea Islands are fierce cannibals, and they have little respect for strangers. We must hide if they land here, which I earnestly hope they will not do." I was greatly alarmed at Jack's speech; but I confess I thought less of what he said than of the earnest, anxious manner in which he said it, and it was with very uncomfortable feelings that Peterkin and I followed him quickly into the woods. "How unfortunate," said I as we gained the shelter of the bushes, "that we have forgotten our arms!" "It matters not," said Jack; "here are clubs enough and to spare." As he spoke, he laid his hand on a bundle of stout poles of various sizes, which Peterkin's ever-busy hands had formed, during our frequent visits to the cliff, for no other purpose, apparently, than that of having something to do. We each selected a stout club according to our several tastes and lay down behind a rock, whence we could see the canoes approach without ourselves being seen. At first we made an occasional remark on their appearance; but after they entered the lagoon and drew near the beach, we ceased to speak, and gazed with intense interest at the scene before us. We now observed that the foremost canoe was being chased by the other, and that it contained a few women and children as well as men--perhaps forty souls altogether--while the canoe which pursued it contained only men. They seemed to be about the same in number, but were better armed, and had the appearance of being a war-party. Both crews were paddling with all their might, and it seemed as if the pursuers exerted themselves to overtake the fugitives ere they could land. In this, however, they failed. The foremost canoe made for the beach close beneath the rocks behind which we were concealed. Their short paddles flashed like meteors in the water, and sent up a constant shower of spray. The foam curled from the prow, and the eyes of the rowers glistened in their black faces as they strained every muscle of their naked bodies. Nor did they relax their efforts till the canoe struck the beach with a violent shock; then, with a shout of defiance, the whole party sprang, as if by magic, from the canoe to the shore. Three women, two of whom carried infants in their arms, rushed into the woods; and the men crowded to the water's edge, with stones in their hands, spears levelled, and clubs brandished, to resist the landing of their enemies. The distance between the two canoes had been about half-a-mile, and at the great speed they were going, this was soon passed. As the pursuers neared the shore, no sign of fear or hesitation was noticeable. On they came, like a wild charger--received, but recked not of, a shower of stones. The canoe struck, and with a yell that seemed to issue from the throats of incarnate fiends, they leaped into the water and drove their enemies up the beach. The battle that immediately ensued was frightful to behold. Most of the men wielded clubs of enormous size and curious shapes, with which they dashed out each other's brains. As they were almost entirely naked, and had to bound, stoop, leap, and run in their terrible hand-to-hand encounters, they looked more like demons than human beings. I felt my heart grow sick at the sight of this bloody battle, and would fain have turned away; but a species of fascination seemed to hold me down and glue my eyes upon the combatants. I observed that the attacking party was led by a most extraordinary being, who, from his size and peculiarity, I concluded was a chief. His hair was frizzed out to an enormous extent, so that it resembled a large turban. It was of a light-yellow hue, which surprised me much, for the man's body was as black as coal, and I felt convinced that the hair must have been dyed. He was tattooed from head to foot; and his face, besides being tattooed, was besmeared with red paint and streaked with white. Altogether, with his yellow turban-like hair, his Herculean black frame, his glittering eyes, and white teeth, he seemed the most terrible monster I ever beheld. He was very active in the fight, and had already killed four men. Suddenly the yellow-haired chief was attacked by a man quite as strong and large as himself. He flourished a heavy club, something like an eagle's beak at the point. For a second or two these giants eyed each other warily, moving round and round, as if to catch each other at a disadvantage; but seeing that nothing was to be gained by this caution, and that the loss of time might effectually turn the tide of battle either way, they apparently made up their minds to attack at the same instant, for, with a wild shout and simultaneous spring, they swung their heavy clubs, which met with a loud report. Suddenly the yellow-haired savage tripped, his enemy sprang forward, the ponderous club was swung; but it did not descend, for at that moment the savage was felled to the ground by a stone from the hand of one who had witnessed his chief's danger. This was the turning-point in the battle. The savages who landed first turned and fled towards the bush on seeing the fall of their chief. But not one escaped; they were all overtaken and felled to the earth. I saw, however, that they were not all killed. Indeed, their enemies, now that they were conquered, seemed anxious to take them alive; and they succeeded in securing fifteen, whom they bound hand and foot with cords, and carrying them up into the woods, laid them down among the bushes. Here they left them, for what purpose I knew not, and returned to the scene of the late battle, where the remnant of the party were bathing their wounds. Out of the forty blacks that composed the attacking party only twenty-eight remained alive, two of whom were sent into the bush to hunt for the women and children. Of the other party, as I have said, only fifteen survived, and these were lying bound and helpless on the grass. Jack and Peterkin and I now looked at each other, and whispered our fears that the savages might clamber up the rocks to search for fresh water, and so discover our place of concealment; but we were so much interested in watching their movements that we agreed to remain where we were--and indeed we could not easily have risen without exposing ourselves to detection. One of the savages now went up to the woods and soon returned with a bundle of firewood, and we were not a little surprised to see him set fire to it by the very same means used by Jack the time we made our first fire--namely, with the bow and drill. When the fire was kindled, two of the party went again to the woods and returned with one of the bound men. A dreadful feeling of horror crept over my heart as the thought flashed upon me that they were going to burn their enemies. As they bore him to the fire my feelings almost overpowered me. I gasped for breath, and seizing my club, endeavoured to spring to my feet; but Jack's powerful arm pinned me to the earth. Next moment one of the savages raised his club and fractured the wretched creature's skull. He must have died instantly; and, strange though it may seem, I confess to a feeling of relief when the deed was done, because I now knew that the poor savage could not be burned alive. Scarcely had his limbs ceased to quiver when the monsters cut slices of flesh from his body, and after roasting them slightly over the fire, devoured them. Suddenly there arose a cry from the woods, and in a few seconds the two savages hastened towards the fire, dragging the three women and their two infants along with them. One of these women was much younger than her companions, and we were struck with the modesty of her demeanour and the gentle expression of her face, which, although she had the flattish nose and thick lips of the others, was of a light-brown colour, and we conjectured that she must be of a different race. She and her companions wore short petticoats, and a kind of tippet on their shoulders. Their hair was jet black, but instead of being long, was short and curly--though not woolly--somewhat like the hair of a young boy. While we gazed with interest and some anxiety at these poor creatures, the big chief advanced to one of the elder females and laid his hand upon the child. But the mother shrank from him, and clasping the little one to her bosom, uttered a wail of fear. With a savage laugh, the chief tore the child from her arms and tossed it into the sea. A low groan burst from Jack's lips as he witnessed this atrocious act and heard the mother's shriek as she fell insensible on the sand. The rippling waves rolled the child on the beach, as if they refused to be a party in such a foul murder, and we could observe that the little one still lived. The young girl was now brought forward, and the chief addressed her; but although we heard his voice and even the words distinctly, of course we could not understand what he said. The girl made no answer to his fierce questions, and we saw by the way in which he pointed to the fire that he threatened her life. "Peterkin," said Jack in a hoarse whisper, "have you got your knife?" "Yes," replied Peterkin, whose face was pale as death. "That will do. Listen to me, and do my bidding quick.--Here is the small knife, Ralph. Fly, both of you, through the bush, cut the cords that bind the prisoners, and set them free! There! quick, ere it be too late!" Jack sprang up and seized a heavy but short bludgeon, while his strong frame trembled with emotion, and large drops rolled down his forehead. At this moment the man who had butchered the savage a few minutes before advanced towards the girl with his heavy club. Jack uttered a yell that rang like a death-shriek among the rocks. With one bound he leaped over a precipice full fifteen feet high, and before the savages had recovered from their surprise, was in the midst of them, while Peterkin and I dashed through the bushes towards the prisoners. With one blow of his staff Jack felled the man with the club; then turning round with a look of fury he rushed upon the big chief with the yellow hair. Had the blow which Jack aimed at his head taken effect, the huge savage would have needed no second stroke; but he was agile as a cat, and avoided it by springing to one side, while at the same time he swung his ponderous club at the head of his foe. It was now Jack's turn to leap aside; and well was it for him that the first outburst of his blind fury was over, else he had become an easy prey to his gigantic antagonist. But Jack was cool now. He darted his blows rapidly and well, and the superiority of his light weapon was strikingly proved in this combat; for while he could easily evade the blows of the chief's heavy club, the chief could not so easily evade those of his light one. Nevertheless, so quick was he, and so frightfully did he fling about the mighty weapon, that although Jack struck him almost every blow, the strokes had to be delivered so quickly that they wanted force to be very effectual. It was lucky for Jack that the other savages considered the success of their chief in this encounter to be so certain that they refrained from interfering. Had they doubted it, they would have probably ended the matter at once by felling him. But they contented themselves with awaiting the issue. The force which the chief expended in wielding his club now began to be apparent. His movements became slower, his breath hissed through his clenched teeth, and the surprised savages drew nearer in order to render assistance. Jack observed this movement. He felt that his fate was sealed, and resolved to cast his life upon the next blow. The chief's club was again about to descend on his head. He might have evaded it easily, but instead of doing so, he suddenly shortened his grasp of his own club, rushed in under the blow, struck his adversary right between the eyes with all his force, and fell to the earth, crushed beneath the senseless body of the chief. A dozen clubs flew high in air, ready to descend on the head of Jack; but they hesitated a moment, for the massive body of the chief completely covered him. That moment saved his life. Ere the savages could tear the chief's body away, seven of their number fell prostrate beneath the clubs of the prisoners whom Peterkin and I had set free, and two others fell under our own hand. We could never have accomplished this had not our enemies been so engrossed with the fight between Jack and their chief that they had failed to observe us until we were upon them. They still outnumbered our party by three; but we were flushed with victory, while they were taken by surprise and dispirited by the fall of their chief. Moreover, they were awestruck by the sweeping fury of Jack, who seemed to have lost his senses altogether, and had no sooner shaken himself free of the chief's body than he rushed into the midst of them, and in three blows equalised our numbers. Peterkin and I flew to the rescue, the savages followed us, and in less than ten minutes the whole of our opponents were knocked down or made prisoners, bound hand and foot, and extended side by side upon the seashore. CHAPTER TWENTY. INTERCOURSE WITH THE SAVAGES--CANNIBALISM PREVENTED--THE SLAIN ARE BURIED AND THE SURVIVORS DEPART, LEAVING US AGAIN ALONE ON OUR CORAL ISLAND. After the battle was over, the savages crowded round us and gazed at us in surprise, while they continued to pour upon us a flood of questions, which, being wholly unintelligible, of course we could not answer. However, by way of putting an end to it, Jack took the chief (who had recovered from the effects of his wound) by the hand and shook it warmly. No sooner did the blacks see that this was meant to express good-will than they shook hands with us all round. After this ceremony was gone through Jack went up to the girl, who had never once moved from the rock where she had been left, but had continued an eager spectator of all that had passed. He made signs to her to follow him, and then, taking the chief by the hand, was about to conduct him to the bower when his eye fell on the poor infant which had been thrown into the sea and was still lying on the shore. Dropping the chief's hand he hastened towards it, and, to his great joy, found it to be still alive. We also found that the mother was beginning to recover slowly. "Here, get out o' the way," said Jack, pushing us aside as we stooped over the poor woman and endeavoured to restore her; "I'll soon bring her round." So saying, he placed the infant on her bosom and laid its warm cheek on hers. The effect was wonderful. The woman opened her eyes, felt the child, looked at it, and with a cry of joy, clasped it in her arms, at the same time endeavouring to rise--for the purpose, apparently, of rushing into the woods. "There, that's all right," said Jack, once more taking the chief by the hand.--"Now, Ralph and Peterkin, make the women and these fellows follow me to the bower. We'll entertain them as hospitably as we can." In a few minutes the savages were all seated on the ground in front of the bower, making a hearty meal off a cold roast pig, several ducks, and a variety of cold fish, together with an unlimited supply of cocoa-nuts, bread-fruits, yams, taro, and plums--with all of which they seemed to be quite familiar and perfectly satisfied. Meanwhile we three, being thoroughly knocked up with our day's work, took a good draught of cocoa-nut lemonade, and throwing ourselves on our beds, fell fast asleep. The savages, it seems, followed our example, and in half-an-hour the whole camp was buried in repose. How long we slept I cannot tell; but this I know--that when we lay down the sun was setting, and when we awoke it was high in the heavens. I awoke Jack, who started up in surprise, being unable at first to comprehend our situation. "Now, then," said he, springing up, "let's see after breakfast.--Hallo, Peterkin, lazy fellow! how long do you mean to lie there?" Peterkin yawned heavily. "Well," said he, opening his eyes and looking up after some trouble, "if it isn't to-morrow morning, and me thinking it was to-day all this time--Hallo, Venus! where did you come from? You seem tolerably at home, anyhow. Bah! might as well speak to the cat as to you--better, in fact, for it understands me, and you don't." This remark was called forth by the sight of one of the elderly females, who had seated herself on the rock in front of the bower, and having placed her child at her feet, was busily engaged in devouring the remains of a roast pig. By this time the natives outside were all astir, and breakfast in an advanced state of preparation. During the course of it we made sundry attempts to converse with the natives by signs, but without effect. At last we hit upon a plan of discovering their names. Jack pointed to his breast and said "Jack" very distinctly; then he pointed to Peterkin and to me, repeating our names at the same time. Then he pointed to himself again and said "Jack," and laying his finger on the breast of the chief, looked inquiringly into his face. The chief instantly understood him, and said "Tararo" twice distinctly. Jack repeated it after him, and the chief, nodding his head approvingly, said "Chuck," on hearing which Peterkin exploded with laughter. But Jack turned, and with a frown rebuked him, saying, "I must look even more indignantly at you than I feel, Peterkin, you rascal, for these fellows don't like to be laughed at." Then turning towards the youngest of the women, who was seated at the door of the bower, he pointed to her; whereupon the chief said "Avatea," and pointing towards the sun, raised his finger slowly towards the zenith, where it remained steadily for a minute or two. "What can that mean, I wonder?" said Jack, looking puzzled. "Perhaps," said Peterkin, "the chief means she is an angel come down to stay here for a while. If so, she's an uncommonly black one!" We did not feel quite satisfied with this explanation, so Jack went up to her and said "Avatea." The woman smiled sadly and nodded her head, at the same time pointing to her breast and then to the sun in the same manner as the chief had done. We were much puzzled to know what this could signify; but as there was no way of solving our difficulty, we were obliged to rest content. Jack now made signs to the natives to follow him, and taking up his axe, he led them to the place where the battle had been fought. Here we found the prisoners, who had passed the night on the beach, having been totally forgotten by us, as our minds had been full of our guests, and were ultimately overcome by sleep. They did not seem the worse for their exposure, however, as we judged by the hearty appetite with which they devoured the breakfast that was soon after given to them. Jack then began to dig a hole in the sand, and after working a few seconds, he pointed to it and to the dead bodies that lay exposed on the beach. The natives immediately perceived what he wanted, and running for their paddles, dug a hole in the course of half-an-hour that was quite large enough to contain all the bodies of the slain. When it was finished, they tossed their dead enemies into it with so much indifference that we felt assured they would not have put themselves to this trouble had we not asked them to do so. The body of the yellow-haired chief was the last thrown in. This wretched man would have recovered from the blow with which Jack felled him, and indeed he did endeavour to rise during the _melee_ that followed his fall; but one of his enemies, happening to notice the action, dealt him a blow with his club that killed him on the spot. While they were about to throw the sand over this chief, one of the savages stooped over him, and with a knife, made apparently of stone, cut a large slice of flesh from his thigh. We knew at once that he intended to make use of this for food, and could not repress a cry of horror and disgust. "Come, come, you blackguard!" cried Jack, starting up and seizing the man by the arm, "pitch that into the hole. Do you hear?" The savage, of course, did not understand the command; but he perfectly understood the look of disgust with which Jack regarded the flesh, and his fierce gaze as he pointed towards the hole. Nevertheless, he did not obey. Jack instantly turned to Tararo and made signs to him to enforce obedience. The chief seemed to understand the appeal; for he stepped forward, raised his club, and was on the point of dashing out the brains of his offending subject when Jack sprang forward and caught his uplifted arm. "Stop, you blockhead!" he shouted. "I don't want you to kill the man!" He then pointed again to the flesh and to the hole. The chief uttered a few words, which had the desired effect; for the man threw the flesh into the hole, which was immediately filled up. This man was of a morose, sulky disposition, and during all the time he remained on the island, regarded us--especially Jack--with a scowling visage. His name, we found, was Mahine. The next three or four days were spent by the savages in mending their canoe, which had been damaged by the violent shock it had sustained on striking the shore. This canoe was a very curious structure. It was about thirty feet long, and had a high, towering stern. The timbers of which it was partly composed were fastened much in the same way as those of our little boat were put together; but the part that seemed most curious to us was a sort of outrigger, or long plank, which was attached to the body of the canoe by means of two stout cross-beams. These beams kept the plank parallel with the canoe, but not in contact with it, for it floated in the water with an open space between--thus forming a sort of double canoe. This, we found, was intended to prevent the upsetting of the canoe, which was so narrow that it could not have maintained an upright position without the outrigger. We could not help wondering both at the ingenuity and the clumsiness of this contrivance. When the canoe was ready, we assisted the natives to carry the prisoners into it, and helped them to load it with provisions and fruit. Peterkin also went to the plum-tree for the purpose of making a special onslaught upon the hogs, and killed no less than six of them. These we baked and presented to our friends, on the day of their departure. On that day Tararo made a great many energetic signs to us, which, after much consideration, we came to understand were proposals that we should go away with him to his island; but having no desire to do so, we shook our heads very decidedly. However, we consoled him by presenting him with our rusty axe, which we thought we could spare, having the excellent one which had been so providentially washed ashore to us the day we were wrecked. We also gave him a piece of wood with our names carved on it, and a piece of string to hang it round his neck as an ornament. In a few minutes more we were all assembled on the beach. Being unable to speak to the savages, we went through the ceremony of shaking hands, and expected they would depart; but before doing so, Tararo went up to Jack and rubbed noses with him, after which he did the same with Peterkin and me! Seeing that this was their mode of salutation, we determined to conform to their custom; so we rubbed noses heartily with the whole party, women and all! The only disagreeable part of the process was when we came to rub noses with Mahine; and Peterkin afterwards said that when he saw his wolfish eyes glaring so close to his face, he felt much more inclined to _bang_ than to _rub_ his nose. Avatea was the last to take leave of us, and we experienced a feeling of real sorrow when she approached to bid us farewell. Besides her modest air and gentle manners, she was the only one of the party who exhibited the smallest sign of regret at parting from us. Going up to Jack, she put out her flat little nose to be rubbed, and thereafter paid the same compliment to Peterkin and me. An hour later the canoe was out of sight; and we, with an indefinable feeling of sadness creeping round our hearts, were seated in silence beneath the shadow of our bower, meditating on the wonderful events of the last few days. CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. SAGACIOUS AND MORAL REMARKS IN REGARD TO LIFE--A SAIL!--AN UNEXPECTED SALUTE--THE END OF THE BLACK CAT--A TERRIBLE DIVE--AN INCAUTIOUS PROCEEDING AND A FRIGHTFUL CATASTROPHE. Life is a strange compound. Peterkin used to say of it that it beat a druggist's shop all to sticks; for whereas the first is a compound of good and bad, the other is a horrible compound of all that is utterly detestable. And indeed the more I consider it, the more I am struck with the strange mixture of good and evil that exists, not only in the material earth, but in our own natures. In our own Coral Island we had experienced every variety of good that a bountiful Creator could heap on us. Yet on the night of the storm we had seen how almost, in our case-- and altogether, no doubt, in the case of others less fortunate--all this good might be swept away for ever. We had seen the rich fruit-trees waving in the soft air, the tender herbs shooting upwards under the benign influence of the bright sun; and the next day we had seen these good and beautiful trees and plants uprooted by the hurricane, crushed and hurled to the ground in destructive devastation. We had lived for many months in a clime, for the most part, so beautiful that we had often wondered whether Adam and Eve had found Eden more sweet; and we had seen the quiet solitudes of our paradise suddenly broken in upon by ferocious savages, and the white sands stained with blood and strewed with lifeless forms, yet among these cannibals we had seen many symptoms of a kindly nature. I pondered these things much, and while I considered them there recurred to my memory those words which I had read in my Bible: "The works of God are wonderful, and His ways past finding out." After these poor savages had left us we used to hold long and frequent conversations about them, and I noticed that Peterkin's manner was now much altered. He did not, indeed, jest less heartily than before, but he did so less frequently; and often there was a tone of deep seriousness in his manner, if not in his words, which made him seem to Jack and me as if he had grown two years older within a few days. But indeed I was not surprised at this when I reflected on the awful realities which we had witnessed so lately. We could by no means shake off a tendency to gloom for several weeks afterwards; but as time wore away, our usual good spirits returned somewhat, and we began to think of the visit of the savages with feelings akin to those with which we recall a terrible dream. One day we were all enjoying ourselves in the Water Garden preparatory to going on a fishing excursion, for Peterkin had kept us in such constant supply of hogs that we had become quite tired of pork and desired a change. Peterkin was sunning himself on the ledge of rock, while we were creeping among the rocks below. Happening to look up, I observed Peterkin cutting the most extraordinary capers and making violent gesticulations for us to come up; so I gave Jack a push and rose immediately. "A sail! a sail--Ralph, look--Jack, away on the horizon there, just over the entrance to the lagoon!" cried Peterkin as we scrambled up the rocks. "So it is--and a schooner, too!" said Jack as he proceeded hastily to dress. Our hearts were thrown into a terrible flutter by this discovery, for if it should touch at our island, we had no doubt the captain would be happy to give us a passage to some of the civilised islands, where we could find a ship sailing for England or some other part of Europe. Home, with all its associations, rushed in upon my heart like a flood; and much though I loved the Coral Island and the bower which had now been our home so long, I felt that I could have quitted all at that moment without a sigh. With joyful anticipations we hastened to the highest point of rock near our dwelling and awaited the arrival of the vessel, for we now perceived that she was making straight for the island under a steady breeze. In less than an hour she was close to the reef, where she rounded-to and backed her topsails in order to survey the coast. Seeing this, and fearing that they might not perceive us, we all three waved pieces of cocoa-nut cloth in the air, and soon had the satisfaction of seeing them beginning to lower a boat and bustle about the decks as if they meant to land. Suddenly a flag was run up to the peak, a little cloud of white smoke rose from the schooner's side, and before we could guess their intentions, a cannon-shot came crashing through the bushes, carried away several cocoa-nut trees in its passage, and burst in atoms against the cliff a few yards below the spot on which we stood. With feelings of terror we now observed that the flag at the schooner's peak was black, with a Death's-head and cross-bones upon it. As we gazed at each other in blank amazement, the word "pirate" escaped our lips simultaneously. "What is to be done?" cried Peterkin as we observed a boat shoot from the vessel's side and make for the entrance of the reef. "If they take us off the island, it will either be to throw us overboard for sport or to make pirates of us." I did not reply, but looked at Jack, as being our only resource in this emergency. He stood with folded arms, and his eyes fixed with a grave, anxious expression on the ground. "There is but one hope," said he, turning with a sad expression of countenance to Peterkin. "Perhaps, after all, we may not have to resort to it. If these villains are anxious to take us, they will soon overrun the whole island. But come, follow me." Stopping abruptly in his speech, Jack bounded into the woods, and led us by a circuitous route to Spouting Cliff. Here he halted, and advancing cautiously to the rocks, glanced over their edge. We were soon by his side, and saw the boat, which was crowded with armed men, just touching the shore. In an instant the crew landed, formed line, and rushed up to our bower. In a few seconds we saw them hurrying back to the boat, one of them swinging the poor cat round his head by the tail. On reaching the water's edge he tossed it far into the sea, and joined his companions, who appeared to be holding a hasty council. "You see what we may expect," said Jack bitterly. "The man who will wantonly kill a poor brute for sport will think little of murdering a fellow-creature. Now, boys, we have but one chance left--the Diamond Cave." "The Diamond Cave!" cried Peterkin. "Then my chance is a poor one, for I could not dive into it if all the pirates on the Pacific were at my heels." "Nay, but," said I, "we will take you down, Peterkin, if you will only trust us." As I spoke, we observed the pirates scatter over the beach, and radiate, as if from a centre, towards the woods and along shore. "Now, Peterkin," said Jack in a solemn tone, "you must make up your mind to do it, or we must make up our minds to die in your company." "Oh Jack, my dear friend!" cried Peterkin, turning pale, "leave me; I don't believe they'll think it worth while to kill me. Go, you and Ralph, and dive into the cave." "That will not I," answered Jack quietly, while he picked up a stout cudgel from the ground.--"So now, Ralph, we must prepare to meet these fellows. Their motto is `No quarter.' If we can manage to floor those coming in this direction, we may escape into the woods for a while." "There are five of them," said I; "we have no chance." "Come, then!" cried Peterkin, starting up and grasping Jack convulsively by the arm; "let us dive. I will go." Those who are not naturally expert in the water know well the feelings of horror that overwhelm them, when in it, at the bare idea of being held down even for a few seconds--that spasmodic, involuntary recoil from compulsory immersion which has no connection whatever with cowardice; and they will understand the amount of resolution that it required in Peterkin to allow himself to be dragged down to a depth of ten feet, and then, through a narrow tunnel, into an almost pitch-dark cavern. But there was no alternative. The pirates had already caught sight of us, and were now within a short distance of the rocks. Jack and I seized Peterkin by the arms. "Now, keep quite still--no struggling," said Jack, "or we are lost!" Peterkin made no reply; but the stern gravity of his marble features, and the tension of his muscles, satisfied us that he had fully made up his mind to go through with it. Just as the pirates gained the foot of the rocks, which hid us for a moment from their view, we bent over the sea and plunged down together, head foremost. Peterkin behaved like a hero. He floated passively between us like a log of wood, and we passed the tunnel and rose into the cave in a shorter space of time than I had ever done it before. Peterkin drew a long, deep breath on reaching the surface, and in a few seconds we were all standing on the ledge of rock in safety. Jack now searched for the tinder and torch which always lay in the cave. He soon found them, and lighting the torch, revealed to Peterkin's wondering gaze the marvels of the place. But we were too wet to waste much time in looking about us. Our first care was to take off our clothes and wring them as dry as we could. This done, we proceeded to examine into the state of our larder, for, as Jack truly remarked, there was no knowing how long the pirates might remain on the island. "Perhaps," said Peterkin, "they may take it into their heads to stop here altogether, and so we shall be buried alive in this place." "Don't you think, Peterkin, that it's the nearest thing to being drowned alive that you ever felt?" said Jack with a smile. "But I have no fear of that. These villains never stay long on shore. The sea is their home, so you may depend upon it that they won't stay more than a day or two at the furthest." We now began to make arrangements for spending the night in the cavern. At various periods Jack and I had conveyed cocoa-nuts and other fruits, besides rolls of cocoa-nut cloth, to this submarine cave, partly for amusement, and partly from a feeling that we might possibly be driven one day to take shelter here from the savages. Little did we imagine that the first savages who would drive us into it would be white savages--perhaps our own countrymen! We found the cocoa-nuts in good condition, and the cooked yams; but the bread-fruits were spoiled. We also found the cloth where we had left it, and on opening it out, there proved to be sufficient to make a bed--which was important, as the rock was damp. Having collected it all together, we spread out our bed, placed our torch in the midst of us, and ate our supper. It was indeed a strange chamber to feast in; and we could not help remarking on the cold, ghastly appearance of the walls, and the black water at our side with the thick darkness beyond, and the sullen sound of the drops that fell at long intervals from the roof of the cavern into the still water, and the strong contrast between all this and our bed and supper, which, with our faces, were lit up with the deep-red flame of the torch. We sat long over our meal, talking together in subdued voices, for we did not like the dismal echoes that rang through the vault above when we happened to raise them. At last the faint light that came through the opening died away, warning us that it was night and time for rest. We therefore put out our torch and lay down to sleep. On awaking, it was some time ere we could collect our faculties so as to remember where we were, and we were in much uncertainty as to whether it was early or late. We saw by the faint light that it was day, but could not guess at the hour; so Jack proposed that he should dive out and reconnoitre. "No, Jack," said I; "do you rest here. You've had enough to do during the last few days. Rest yourself now, and take care of Peterkin, while I go out to see what the pirates are about. I'll be very careful not to expose myself, and I'll bring you word again in a short time." "Very well, Ralph," answered Jack; "please yourself. But don't be long. And if you'll take my advice, you'll go in your clothes; for I would like to have some fresh cocoa-nuts, and climbing trees without clothes is uncomfortable--to say the least of it." "The pirates will be sure to keep a sharp lookout," said Peterkin; "so, pray, be careful." "No fear," said I. "Good-bye." "Good-bye," answered my comrades. And while the words were yet sounding in my ears, I plunged into the water, and in a few seconds found myself in the open air. On rising, I was careful to come up gently and to breathe softly, while I kept close in beside the rocks; but as I observed no one near me, I crept slowly out and ascended the cliff, a step at a time, till I obtained a full view of the shore. No pirates were to be seen--even their boat was gone; but as it was possible they might have hidden themselves, I did not venture too boldly forward. Then it occurred to me to look out to sea, when, to my surprise, I saw the pirate schooner sailing away almost hull down on the horizon! On seeing this I uttered a shout of joy. Then my first impulse was to dive back to tell my companions the good news; but I checked myself, and ran to the top of the cliff in order to make sure that the vessel I saw was indeed the pirate schooner. I looked long and anxiously at her, and giving vent to a deep sigh of relief, said aloud, "Yes, there she goes; the villains have been balked of their prey this time at least!" "Not so sure of that!" said a deep voice at my side, while at the same moment a heavy hand grasped my shoulder and held it as if in a vice. CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. I FALL INTO THE HANDS OF PIRATES--HOW THEY TREATED ME, AND WHAT I SAID TO THEM--THE RESULT OF THE WHOLE ENDING IN A MELANCHOLY SEPARATION AND IN A MOST UNEXPECTED GIFT. My heart seemed to leap into my throat at the words; and turning round, I beheld a man of immense stature and fierce aspect regarding me with a smile of contempt. He was a white man--that is to say, he was a man of European blood, though his face, from long exposure to the weather, was deeply bronzed. His dress was that of a common seaman, except that he had on a Greek skull-cap, and wore a broad shawl of the richest silk round his waist. In this shawl were placed two pairs of pistols and a heavy cutlass. He wore a beard and moustache, which, like the locks on his head, were short, curly, and sprinkled with grey hairs. "So, youngster," he said with a sardonic smile, while I felt his grasp tighten on my shoulder, "the villains have been balked of their prey, have they? We shall see--we shall see. Now, you whelp, look yonder!" As he spoke, the pirate uttered a shrill whistle. In a second or two it was answered, and the pirate boat rowed round the point at the Water Garden and came rapidly towards us. "Now, go make a fire on that point; and hark'ee, youngster, if you try to run away I'll send a quick and sure messenger after you," and he pointed significantly at his pistols. I obeyed in silence; and as I happened to have the burning-glass in my pocket, a fire was speedily kindled, and a thick smoke ascended into the air. It had scarcely appeared for two minutes when the boom of a gun rolled over the sea, and looking up, I saw that the schooner was making for the island again. It now flashed across me that this was a ruse on the part of the pirates, and that they had sent their vessel away, knowing that it would lead us to suppose that they had left altogether. But there was no use of regret now. I was completely in their power; so I stood helplessly beside the pirate, watching the crew of the boat as they landed on the beach. For an instant I contemplated rushing over the cliff into the sea; but this, I saw, I could not now accomplish, as some of the men were already between me and the water. There was a good deal of jesting at the success of their scheme, as the crew ascended the rocks and addressed the man who had captured me by the title of "Captain". They were a ferocious set of men, with shaggy beards and scowling brows. All of them were armed with cutlasses and pistols, and their costumes were, with trifling variations, similar to that of the captain. As I looked from one to the other, and observed the low, scowling brows that never unbent even when the men laughed, and the mean, rascally expression that sat on each face, I felt that my life hung by a hair. "But where are the other cubs?" cried one of the men with an oath that made me shudder. "I'll swear to it there were three at least, if not more." "You hear what he says, whelp: where are the other dogs?" said the captain. "If you mean my companions," said I in a low voice, "I won't tell you." A loud laugh burst from the crew at this answer. The pirate captain looked at me in surprise. Then drawing a pistol from his belt, he cocked it and said, "Now, youngster, listen to me. I've no time to waste here. If you don't tell me all you know, I'll blow your brains out! Where are your comrades?" For an instant I hesitated, not knowing what to do in this extremity. Suddenly a thought occurred to me. "Villain," said I, shaking my clenched fist in his face, "to blow my brains out would make short work of me, and be soon over; death by drowning is as sure, and the agony prolonged. Yet I tell you to your face, if you were to toss me over yonder cliff into the sea, I would not tell you where my companions are; and I dare you to try me!" The pirate captain grew white with rage as I spoke. "Say you so?" cried he, uttering a fierce oath.--"Here, lads, take him by the legs and heave him in--quick!" The men, who were utterly silenced with surprise at my audacity, advanced and seized me; and as they carried me towards the cliff, I congratulated myself not a little on the success of my scheme, for I knew that once in the water I should be safe, and could rejoin Jack and Peterkin in the cave. But my hopes were suddenly blasted by the captain crying out, "Hold on, lads, hold on! We'll give him a taste of the thumb-screws before throwing him to the sharks. Away with him into the boat. Look alive! the breeze is freshening." The men instantly raised me shoulder-high, and hurrying down the rocks, tossed me into the bottom of the boat, where I lay for some time stunned with the violence of my fall. On recovering sufficiently to raise myself on my elbow, I perceived that we were already outside the coral reef and close alongside the schooner, which was of small size and clipper-built. I had only time to observe this much when I received a severe kick on the side from one of the men, who ordered me, in a rough voice, to jump aboard. Rising hastily, I clambered up the side. In a few minutes the boat was hoisted on deck, the vessel's head put close to the wind, and the Coral Island dropped slowly astern as we beat up against a head sea. Immediately after coming aboard, the crew were too busily engaged in working the ship and getting in the boat to attend to me; so I remained leaning against the bulwarks close to the gangway, watching their operations. I was surprised to find that there were no guns or carronades of any kind in the vessel, which had more the appearance of a fast-sailing trader than a pirate. But I was struck with the neatness of everything. The brass-work of the binnacle and about the tiller, as well as the copper belaying-pins, were as brightly polished as if they had just come from the foundry. The decks were pure white and smooth. The masts were clean-scraped and varnished, except at the cross-trees and truck, which were painted black. The standing and running rigging was in the most perfect order, and the sails white as snow. In short, everything, from the single narrow red stripe on her low, black hull to the trucks on her tapering masts, evinced an amount of care and strict discipline that would have done credit to a ship of the Royal Navy. There was nothing lumbering or unseemly about the vessel, excepting, perhaps, a boat, which lay on the deck with its keel up between the fore and main masts. It seemed disproportionately large for the schooner; but when I saw that the crew amounted to between thirty and forty men, I concluded that this boat was held in reserve in case of any accident compelling the crew to desert the vessel. As I have before said, the costumes of the men were similar to that of the captain. But in head-gear they differed, not only from him, but from each other--some wearing the ordinary straw hat of the merchant service, while others wore cloth caps and red worsted nightcaps. I observed that all their arms were sent below, the captain only retaining his cutlass and a single pistol in the folds of his shawl. Although the captain was the tallest and most powerful man in the ship, he did not strikingly excel many of his men in this respect; and the only difference that an ordinary observer would have noticed was a certain degree of open candour, straightforward daring, in the bold, ferocious expression of his face, which rendered him less repulsive than his low-browed associates, but did not by any means induce the belief that he was a hero. This look was, however, the indication of that spirit which gave him the pre-eminence among the crew of desperadoes who called him captain. He was a lion-like villain, totally devoid of personal fear, and utterly reckless of consequences, and therefore a terror to his men, who individually hated him, but unitedly felt it to be to their advantage to have him at their head. But my thoughts soon reverted to the dear companions whom I had left on shore; and as I turned towards the Coral Island, which was now far away to leeward, I sighed deeply, and the tears rolled slowly down my cheeks as I thought that I might never see them more. "So you're blubbering, are you, you obstinate whelp?" said the deep voice of the captain as he came up and gave me a box on the ear that nearly felled me to the deck. "I don't allow any such weakness aboard o' this ship. So clap a stopper on your eyes, or I'll give you something to cry for." I flushed with indignation at this rough and cruel treatment, but felt that giving way to anger would only make matters worse; so I made no reply, but took out my handkerchief and dried my eyes. "I thought you were made of better stuff," continued the captain angrily. "I'd rather have a mad bulldog aboard than a water-eyed puppy. But I'll cure you, lad, or introduce you to the sharks before long. Now go below, and stay there till I call you." As I walked forward to obey, my eye fell on a small keg standing by the side of the mainmast, on which the word _gunpowder_ was written in pencil. It immediately flashed across me that as we were beating up against the wind, anything floating in the sea would be driven on the reef encircling the Coral Island. I also recollected--for thought is more rapid than the lightning--that my old companions had a pistol. Without a moment's hesitation, therefore, I lifted the keg from the deck and tossed it into the sea! An exclamation of surprise burst from the captain and some of the men who witnessed this act of mine. Striding up to me, and uttering fearful imprecations, the captain raised his hand to strike me, while he shouted, "Boy! whelp! what mean you by that?" "If you lower your hand," said I in a loud voice, while I felt the blood rush to my temples, "I'll tell you. Until you do so, I'm dumb." The captain stepped back and regarded me with a look of amazement. "Now," continued I, "I threw that keg into the sea because the wind and waves will carry it to my friends on the Coral Island, who happen to have a pistol but no powder. I hope that it will reach them soon; and my only regret is that the keg was not a bigger one. Moreover, pirate, you said just now that you thought I was made of better stuff. I don't know what stuff I am made of--I never thought much about that subject; but I'm quite certain of this--that I am made of such stuff as the like of you shall never tame, though you should do your worst!" To my surprise, the captain, instead of flying into a rage, smiled, and thrusting his hand into the voluminous shawl that encircled his waist, turned on his heel and walked aft, while I went below. Here, instead of being rudely handled, as I had expected, the men received me with a shout of laughter; and one of them, patting me on the back, said, "Well done, lad! You're a brick, and I have no doubt will turn out a rare cove. Bloody Bill there was just such a fellow as you are, and he's now the biggest cut-throat of us all." "Take a can of beer, lad," cried another, "and wet your whistle after that speech o' your'n to the captain. If any one o' us had made it, youngster, he would have had no whistle to wet by this time." "Stop your clapper, Jack!" vociferated a third. "Give the boy a junk o' meat. Don't you see he's a'most goin' to kick the bucket?" "And no wonder," said the first speaker with an oath, "after the tumble you gave him into the boat! I guess it would have broke your neck if you had got it." I did indeed feel somewhat faint, which was owing, doubtless, to the combined effects of ill-usage and hunger; for it will be recollected that I had dived out of the cave that morning before breakfast, and it was now near midday. I therefore gladly accepted a plate of boiled pork and a yam, which were handed to me by one of the men from the locker on which some of the crew were seated eating their dinner. But I must add that the zest with which I ate my meal was much abated in consequence of the frightful oaths and the terrible language that flowed from the lips of these godless men, even in the midst of their hilarity and good-humour. The man who had been alluded to as Bloody Bill was seated near me, and I could not help wondering at the moody silence he maintained among his comrades. He did indeed reply to their questions in a careless, off-hand tone, but he never volunteered a remark. The only difference between him and the others was his taciturnity and his size, for he was nearly, if not quite, as large a man as the captain. During the remainder of the afternoon I was left to my own reflections, which were anything but agreeable; for I could not banish from my mind the threat about the thumbscrews, of the nature and use of which I had a vague but terrible conception. I was still meditating on my unhappy fate when, just after nightfall, one of the watch on deck called down the hatchway: "Hallo, there! One o' you tumble up and light the cabin lamp, and send that boy aft to the captain--sharp!" "Now, then, do you hear, youngster? the captain wants you. Look alive!" said Bloody Bill, raising his huge frame from the locker on which he had been asleep for the last two hours. He sprang up the ladder, and I instantly followed him, and going aft, was shown into the cabin by one of the men, who closed the door after me. A small silver lamp which hung from a beam threw a dim, soft light over the cabin, which was a small apartment, and comfortably but plainly furnished. Seated on a camp-stool at the table, and busily engaged in examining a chart of the Pacific, was the captain, who looked up as I entered, and in a quiet voice bade me be seated, while he threw down his pencil, and rising from the table, stretched himself on a sofa at the upper end of the cabin. "Boy," said he, looking me full in the face, "what is your name?" "Ralph Rover," I replied. "Where did you come from, and how came you to be on that island? How many companions had you on it? Answer me, now, and mind you tell no lies." "I never tell lies," said I firmly. The captain received this reply with a cold, sarcastic smile, and bade me answer his questions. I then told him the history of myself and my companions from the time we sailed till the day of his visit to the island--taking care, however, to make no mention of the Diamond Cave. After I had concluded, he was silent for a few minutes; then looking up, he said, "Boy, I believe you." I was surprised at this remark, for I could not imagine why he should not believe me. However, I made no reply. "And what," continued the captain, "makes you think that this schooner is a pirate?" "The black flag," said I, "showed me what you are; and if any further proof were wanting, I have had it in the brutal treatment I have received at your hands." The captain frowned as I spoke; but, subduing his anger, he continued, "Boy, you are too bold. I admit that we treated you roughly, but that was because you made us lose time and gave us a good deal of trouble. As to the black flag, that is merely a joke that my fellows play off upon people sometimes in order to frighten them. It is their humour, and does no harm. I am no pirate, boy, but a lawful trader--a rough one, I grant you; but one can't help that in these seas, where there are so many pirates on the water and such murderous blackguards on the land. I carry on a trade in sandal-wood with the Feejee Islands; and if you choose, Ralph, to behave yourself and be a good boy, I'll take you along with me and give you a good share of the profits. You see, I'm in want of an honest boy like you to look after the cabin, and keep the log, and superintend the traffic on shore sometimes. What say you, Ralph: would you like to become a sandal-wood trader?" I was much surprised by this explanation, and a good deal relieved to find that the vessel, after all, was not a pirate; but instead of replying, I said, "If it be as you state, then why did you take me from my island, and why do you not now take me back?" The captain smiled as he replied, "I took you off in anger, boy, and I'm sorry for it. I would even now take you back, but we are too far away from it. See, there it is," he added, laying his finger on the chart; "and we are now here--fifty miles, at least. It would not be fair to my men to put about now, for they have all an interest in the trade." I could make no reply to this; so, after a little more conversation, I agreed to become one of the crew--at least, until we could reach some civilised island where I might be put ashore. The captain assented to this proposition; and after thanking him for the promise, I left the cabin and went on deck with feelings that ought to have been lighter, but which were, I could not tell why, marvellously heavy and uncomfortable still. CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. BLOODY BILL--DARK SURMISES--A STRANGE SAIL, AND A STRANGE CREW, AND A STILL STRANGER CARGO--NEW REASONS FOR FAVOURING MISSIONARIES--A MURDEROUS MASSACRE, AND THOUGHTS THEREON. Three weeks after the conversation narrated in the last chapter I was standing on the quarter-deck of the schooner, watching the gambols of a shoal of porpoises that swam round us. It was a dead calm--one of those still, hot, sweltering days so common in the Pacific, when nature seems to have gone to sleep, and the only thing in water or in air that proves her still alive is her long, deep breathing in the swell of the mighty sea. No cloud floated in the deep blue above, no ripple broke the reflected blue below. The sun shone fiercely in the sky, and a ball of fire blazed with almost equal power from out the bosom of the water. So intensely still was it, and so perfectly transparent was the surface of the deep, that had it not been for the long swell already alluded to, we might have believed the surrounding universe to be a huge, blue, liquid ball, and our little ship the one solitary material speck in all creation floating in the midst of it. No sound broke on our ears save the soft puff now and then of a porpoise, the slow creak of the masts as we swayed gently on the swell, the patter of the reef-points, and the occasional flap of the hanging sails. An awning covered the fore and after parts of the schooner, under which the men composing the watch on deck lolled in sleepy indolence, overcome with excessive heat. Bloody Bill, as the men invariably called him, was standing at the tiller; but his post for the present was a sinecure, and he whiled away the time by alternately gazing in dreamy abstraction at the compass in the binnacle and by walking to the taffrail in order to spit into the sea. In one of these turns he came near to where I was standing, and leaning over the side, looked long and earnestly down into the blue wave. This man, although he was always taciturn and often surly, was the only human being on board with whom I had the slightest desire to become better acquainted. The other men, seeing that I did not relish their company, and knowing that I was a protege of the captain, treated me with total indifference. Bloody Bill, it is true, did the same; but as this was his conduct to every one else, it was not peculiar in reference to me. Once or twice I tried to draw him into conversation, but he always turned away after a few cold monosyllables. As he now leaned over the taffrail, close beside me, I said to him: "Bill, why is it that you are so gloomy? Why do you never speak to any one?" Bill smiled slightly as he replied, "Why, I s'pose it's because I hain't got nothin' to say!" "That's strange," said I musingly. "You look like a man that could think, and such men can usually speak." "So they can, youngster," rejoined Bill somewhat sternly; "and I could speak too if I had a mind to, but what's the use o' speakin' here? The men only open their mouths to curse and swear, and they seem to find it entertainin'; but I don't, so I hold my tongue." "Well, Bill, that's true, and I would rather not hear you speak at all than hear you speak like the other men. But I don't swear, Bill; so you might talk to me sometimes, I think. Besides, I'm weary of spending day after day in this way, without a single soul to say a pleasant word to. I've been used to friendly conversation, Bill, and I really would take it kind if you would talk with me a little now and then." Bill looked at me in surprise, and I thought I observed a sad expression pass across his sunburned face. "An' where have you been used to friendly conversation?" said Bill, looking down again into the sea. "Not on that Coral Island, I take it?" "Yes, indeed," said I energetically. "I have spent many of the happiest months in my life on that Coral Island;" and without waiting to be further questioned, I launched out into a glowing account of the happy life that Jack and Peterkin and I had spent together, and related minutely every circumstance that befell us while on the island. "Boy, boy," said Bill in a voice so deep that it startled me, "this is no place for you!" "That's true," said I. "I am of little use on board, and I don't like my comrades; but I can't help it, and at any rate I hope to be free again soon." "Free?" said Bill, looking at me in surprise. "Yes, free," returned I. "The captain said he would put me ashore after this trip was over." "_This trip_! Hark'ee, boy," said Bill, lowering his voice, "what said the captain to you the day you came aboard?" "He said that he was a trader in sandal-wood, and no pirate, and told me that if I would join him for this trip he would give me a good share of the profits, or put me on shore in some civilised island if I chose." Bill's brows lowered savagely as he muttered, "Ay, he said truth when he told you he was a sandal-wood trader, but he lied when--" "Sail ho!" shouted the lookout at the masthead. "Where away?" cried Bill, springing to the tiller; while the men, startled by the sudden cry, jumped up and gazed round the horizon. "On the starboard quarter, hull down, sir," answered the lookout. At this moment the captain came on deck, and mounting into the rigging, surveyed the sail through the glass. Then sweeping his eye round the horizon, he gazed steadily at the particular point. "Take in topsails!" shouted the captain, swinging himself down on the deck by the main-back stay. "Take in topsails!" roared the first mate. "Ay, ay, sir-r-r!" answered the men as they sprang into the rigging and went aloft like cats. Instantly all was bustle on board the hitherto quiet schooner. The topsails were taken in and stowed, the men stood by the sheets and halyards, and the captain gazed anxiously at the breeze, which was now rushing towards us like a sheet of dark blue. In a few seconds it struck us. The schooner trembled, as if in surprise at the sudden onset, while she fell away; then, bending gracefully to the wind, as though in acknowledgment of her subjection, she cut through the waves with her sharp prow like a dolphin, while Bill directed her course towards the strange sail. In half-an-hour we neared her sufficiently to make out that she was a schooner, and from the clumsy appearance of her masts and sails we judged her to be a trader. She evidently did not like our appearance, for the instant the breeze reached her she crowded all sail and showed us her stern. As the breeze had moderated a little, our topsails were again shaken out; and it soon became evident--despite the proverb, "A stern chase is a long one"--that we doubled her speed, and would overhaul her speedily. When within a mile we hoisted British colours, but receiving no acknowledgment, the captain ordered a shot to be fired across her bows. In a moment, to my surprise, a large portion of the bottom of the boat amidships was removed, and in the hole thus exposed appeared an immense brass gun. It worked on a swivel, and was elevated by means of machinery. It was quickly loaded and fired. The heavy ball struck the water a few yards ahead of the chase, and ricochetting into the air, plunged into the sea a mile beyond it. This produced the desired effect. The strange vessel backed her topsails and hove-to, while we ranged up and lay-to about a hundred yards off. "Lower the boat!" cried the captain. In a second the boat was lowered and manned by a part of the crew, who were all armed with cutlasses and pistols. As the captain passed me to get into it he said, "Jump into the stern-sheets, Ralph; I may want you." I obeyed, and in ten minutes more we were standing on the stranger's deck. We were all much surprised at the sight that met our eyes. Instead of a crew of such sailors as we were accustomed to see, there were only fifteen blacks, standing on the quarter-deck, and regarding us with looks of undisguised alarm. They were totally unarmed, and most of them unclothed. One or two, however, wore portions of European attire. One had on a pair of duck trousers, which were much too large for him, and stuck out in a most ungainly manner; another wore nothing but the common, scanty, native garment round the loins and a black beaver hat; but the most ludicrous personage of all, and one who seemed to be chief, was a tall, middle-aged man, of a mild, simple expression of countenance, who wore a white cotton shirt, a swallow-tailed coat, and a straw hat, while his black, brawny legs were totally uncovered below the knees. "Where's the commander of this ship?" inquired our captain, stepping up to this individual. "I is cap'in," he answered, taking off his straw hat and making a low bow. "You!" said our captain in surprise. "Where do you come from, and where are you bound? What cargo have you aboard?" "We is come," answered the man with the swallow-tail, "from Aitutaki; we was go for Rarotonga. We is native miss'nary ship; our name is de _Olive Branch_; an' our cargo is two tons cocoa-nuts, seventy pigs, twenty cats, and de Gosp'l." This announcement was received by the crew of our vessel with a shout of laughter, which, however, was peremptorily checked by the captain, whose expression instantly changed from one of severity to that of frank urbanity as he advanced towards the missionary and shook him warmly by the hand. "I am very glad to have fallen in with you," said he, "and I wish you much success in your missionary labours. Pray take me to your cabin, as I wish to converse with you privately." The missionary immediately took him by the hand, and as he led him away I heard him saying, "me most glad to find you trader; we t'ought you be pirate. You very like one 'bout the masts." What conversation the captain had with this man I never heard; but he came on deck again in a quarter of an hour, and shaking hands cordially with the missionary, ordered us into our boat and returned to the schooner, which was immediately put before the wind. In a few minutes the _Olive Branch_ was left far behind us. That afternoon, as I was down below at dinner, I heard the men talking about this curious ship. "I wonder," said one, "why our captain looked so sweet on yon swallow-tailed supercargo o' pigs and Gospels? If it had been an ordinary trader, now, he would have taken as many o' the pigs as he required and sent the ship with all on board to the bottom." "Why, Dick, you must be new to these seas if you don't know that!" cried another. "The captain cares as much for the Gospel as you do (an' that's precious little); but he knows, and everybody knows, that the only place among the southern islands where a ship can put in and get what she wants in comfort is where the Gospel has been sent to. There are hundreds o' islands, at this blessed moment, where you might as well jump straight into a shark's maw as land without a band o' thirty comrades armed to the teeth to back you." "Ay," said a man with a deep scar over his right eye. "Dick's new to the work. But if the captain takes us for a cargo o' sandal-wood to the Feejees, he'll get a taste o' these black gentry in their native condition. For my part, I don't know, and I don't care, what the Gospel does to them; but I know that when any o' the islands chance to get it, trade goes all smooth and easy. But where they ha'n't got it, Beelzebub himself could hardly desire better company." "Well, you ought to be a good judge," cried another, laughing, "for you've never kept any company but the worst all your life!" "Ralph Rover!" shouted a voice down the hatchway; "captain wants you, aft." Springing up the ladder, I hastened to the cabin, pondering as I went the strange testimony borne by these men to the effect of the Gospel on savage natures--testimony which, as it was perfectly disinterested, I had no doubt whatever was strictly true. On coming again on deck I found Bloody Bill at the helm, and as we were alone together, I tried to draw him into conversation. After repeating to him the conversation in the forecastle about the missionaries, I said: "Tell me, Bill: is this schooner really a trader in sandal-wood?" "Yes, Ralph, she is; but she's just as really a pirate. The black flag you saw flying at the peak was no deception." "Then how can you say she's a trader?" asked I. "Why, as to that, she trades when she can't take by force; but she takes by force when she can, in preference. Ralph," he added, lowering his voice, "if you had seen the bloody deeds that I have witnessed done on these decks, you would not need to ask if we were pirates. But you'll find it out soon enough. As for the missionaries, the captain favours them because they are useful to him. The South Sea Islanders are such incarnate fiends that they are the better of being tamed, and the missionaries are the only men who can do it." Our track after this lay through several clusters of small islets, among which we were becalmed more than once. During this part of our voyage the watch on deck and the lookout at the masthead were more than usually vigilant, as we were not only in danger of being attacked by the natives (who, I learned from the captain's remarks, were a bloody and deceitful tribe at this group), but we were also exposed to much risk from the multitudes of coral reefs that rose up in the channels between the islands--some of them just above the surface, others a few feet below it. Our precautions against the savages, I found, were indeed necessary. One day we were becalmed among a group of small islands, most of which appeared to be uninhabited. As we were in want of fresh water, the captain sent the boat ashore to bring off a cask or two. But we were mistaken in thinking there were no natives; for scarcely had we drawn near to the shore when a band of naked blacks rushed out of the bush and assembled on the beach, brandishing their clubs and spears in a threatening manner. Our men were well armed, but refrained from showing any signs of hostility, and rowed nearer in order to converse with the natives; and I now found that more than one of the crew could imperfectly speak dialects of the language peculiar to the South Sea Islanders. When within forty yards of the shore we ceased rowing, and the first mate stood up to address the multitude; but instead of answering us, they replied with a shower of stones, some of which cut the men severely. Instantly our muskets were levelled, and a volley was about to be fired when the captain hailed us in a loud voice from the schooner, which lay not more than five or six hundred yards off the shore. "Don't fire!" he shouted angrily. "Pull off to the point ahead of you!" The men looked surprised at this order, and uttered deep curses as they prepared to obey; for their wrath was roused, and they burned for revenge. Three or four of them hesitated, and seemed disposed to mutiny. "Don't distress yourselves, lads," said the mate, while a bitter smile curled his lip. "Obey orders. The captain's not the man to take an insult tamely. If Long Tom does not speak presently, I'll give myself to the sharks." The men smiled significantly as they pulled from the shore, which was now crowded with a dense mass of savages, amounting probably to five or six hundred. We had not rowed off above a couple of hundred yards when a loud roar thundered over the sea, and the big brass gun sent a withering shower of grape point-blank into the midst of the living mass, through which a wide lane was cut; while a yell, the like of which I could not have imagined, burst from the miserable survivors as they fled to the woods. Amongst the heaps of dead that lay on the sand just where they had fallen, I could distinguish mutilated forms writhing in agony; while ever and anon one and another rose convulsively from out the mass, endeavoured to stagger towards the wood, and ere they had taken a few steps, fell and wallowed on the bloody sand. My blood curdled within me as I witnessed this frightful and wanton slaughter; but I had little time to think, for the captain's deep voice came again over the water towards us: "Pull ashore, lads, and fill your water-casks!" The men obeyed in silence, and it seemed to me as if even their hard hearts were shocked by the ruthless deed. On gaining the mouth of the rivulet at which we intended to take in water, we found it flowing with blood; for the greater part of those who were slain had been standing on the banks of the stream, a short way above its mouth. Many of the wretched creatures had fallen into it; and we found one body, which had been carried down, jammed between two rocks, with the staring eyeballs turned towards us, and his black hair waving in the ripples of the blood-red stream. No one dared to oppose our landing now, so we carried our casks to a pool above the murdered group, and having filled them, returned on board. Fortunately a breeze sprang up soon afterwards, and carried us away from the dreadful spot; but it could not waft me away from the memory of what I had seen. "And this," thought I, gazing in horror at the captain, who, with a quiet look of indifference, leaned upon the taffrail, smoking a cigar and contemplating the fertile green islets as they passed like a lovely picture before our eyes--"this is the man who favours the missionaries because they are useful to him and can tame the savages better than any one else can do it!" Then I wondered in my mind whether it were possible for any missionary to tame _him_! CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. BLOODY BILL IS COMMUNICATIVE AND SAGACIOUS--UNPLEASANT PROSPECTS-- RETROSPECTIVE MEDITATIONS INTERRUPTED BY VOLCANIC AGENCY--THE PIRATES NEGOTIATE WITH A FEEJEE CHIEF--VARIOUS ETCETERAS THAT ARE CALCULATED TO SURPRISE AND HORRIFY. It was many days after the events just narrated ere I recovered a little of my wonted spirits. I could not shake off the feeling for a long time that I was in a frightful dream, and the sight of our captain filled me with so much horror that I kept out of his way as much as my duties about the cabin would permit. Fortunately he took so little notice of me that he did not observe my changed feelings towards him, otherwise it might have been worse for me. But I was now resolved that I would run away the very first island we should land at, and commit myself to the hospitality of the natives rather than remain an hour longer than I could help in the pirate schooner. I pondered this subject a good deal, and at last made up my mind to communicate my intention to Bloody Bill; for during several talks I had had with him of late, I felt assured that he too would willingly escape if possible. When I told him of my design he shook his head. "No, no, Ralph," said he; "you must not think of running away here. Among some of the groups of islands you might do so with safety; but if you tried it here, you would find that you had jumped out of the fryin'-pan into the fire." "How so, Bill?" said I. "Would the natives not receive me?" "That they would, lad; but they would eat you too." "Eat me!" said I in surprise. "I thought the South Sea Islanders never ate anybody except their enemies." "Humph!" ejaculated Bill. "I 'spose 'twas yer tender-hearted friends in England that put that notion into your head. There's a set o' soft-hearted folk at home that I knows on who don't like to have their feelin's ruffled; and when you tell them anything they don't like--that shocks them, as they call it--no matter how true it be, they stop their ears and cry out, `Oh, that is _too_ horrible! We can't believe that!' An' they say truth. They can't believe it, 'cause they won't believe it. Now, I believe there's thousands o' the people in England who are sich born drivellin' _won't believers_ that they think the black fellows hereaways, at the worst, eat an enemy only now an' then out o' spite; whereas I know for certain, and many captains of the British and American navies know as well as me, that the Feejee Islanders eat not only their enemies but one another--and they do it not for spite, but for pleasure. It's a _fact_ that they prefer human flesh to any other. But they don't like white men's flesh so well as black; they say it makes them sick." "Why, Bill," said I, "you told me just now that they would eat _me_ if they caught me!" "So I did, and so I think they would. I've only heard some o' them say they don't like white men _so well_ as black; but if they was hungry they wouldn't be particular. Anyhow, I'm sure they would kill you. You see, Ralph, I've been a good while in them parts, and I've visited the different groups of islands oftentimes as a trader. And thorough-goin' blackguards some o' them traders are--no better than pirates, I can tell you. One captain that I sailed with was not a chip better than the one we're with now. He was trading with a friendly chief one day aboard his vessel. The chief had swam off to us with the things for trade tied atop of his head, for them chaps are like otters in the water. Well, the chief was hard on the captain, and would not part with some o' his things. When their bargainin' was over they shook hands, and the chief jumped overboard to swim ashore; but before he got forty yards from the ship, the captain seized a musket and shot him dead. He then hove up anchor and put to sea, and as we sailed along the shore he dropped six black fellows with his rifle, remarkin' that `that would spoil the trade for the next-comers.' But, as I was sayin', I'm up to the ways o' these fellows. One o' the laws o' the country is that every shipwrecked person who happens to be cast ashore, be he dead or alive, is doomed to be roasted and eaten. There was a small tradin' schooner wrecked off one of these islands when we were lyin' there in harbour during a storm. The crew was lost--all but three men, who swam ashore. The moment they landed, they were seized by the natives and carried up into the woods. We knew pretty well what their fate would be; but we could not help them, for our crew was small, and if we had gone ashore they would likely have killed us all. We never saw the three men again. But we heard frightful yelling and dancing and merrymaking that night; and one of the natives, who came aboard to trade with us next day, told us that the _long pigs_, as he called the men, had been roasted and eaten, and their bones were to be converted into sail-needles. He also said that white men were bad to eat, and that most o' the people on shore were sick." I was very much shocked and cast down in my mind at this terrible account of the natives, and asked Bill what he would advise me to do. Looking round the deck to make sure that we were not overheard, he lowered his voice and said, "There are two or three ways that we might escape, Ralph, but none o' them's easy. If the captain would only sail for some o' the islands near Tahiti we might run away there well enough, because the natives are all Christians; an' we find that wherever the savages take up with Christianity they always give over their bloody ways, and are safe to be trusted. I never cared for Christianity myself," he continued in a soliloquising voice, "and I don't well know what it means; but a man with half-an-eye can see what it does for these black critters. However, the captain always keeps a sharp lookout after us when we get to these islands, for he half-suspects that one or two o' us are tired of his company. Then we might manage to cut the boat adrift some fine night when it's our watch on deck, and clear off before they discovered that we were gone. But we would run the risk o' bein' caught by the blacks. I wouldn't like to try that plan. But you and I will think over it, Ralph, and see what's to be done. In the meantime it's our watch below, so I'll go and turn in." Bill then bade me good-night and went below, while a comrade took his place at the helm; but feeling no desire to enter into conversation with him, I walked aft, and leaning over the stern, looked down into the phosphorescent waves that gurgled around the rudder, and streamed out like a flame of blue light in the vessel's wake. My thoughts were very sad, and I could scarce refrain from tears as I contrasted my present wretched position with the happy, peaceful time I had spent on the Coral Island with my dear companions. As I thought upon Jack and Peterkin, anxious forebodings crossed my mind, and I pictured to myself the grief and dismay with which they would search every nook and corner of the island in a vain attempt to discover my dead body; for I felt assured that if they did not see any sign of the pirate schooner or boat when they came out of the cave to look for me, they would never imagine that I had been carried away. I wondered, too, how Jack would succeed in getting Peterkin out of the cave without my assistance; and I trembled when I thought that he might lose presence of mind, and begin to kick when he was in the tunnel! These thoughts were suddenly interrupted and put to flight by a bright-red blaze, which lighted up the horizon to the southward and cast a crimson glow far over the sea. This appearance was accompanied by a low growling sound, as of distant thunder, and at the same time the sky above us became black, while a hot, stifling wind blew around us in fitful gusts. The crew assembled hastily on deck, and most of them were under the belief that a frightful hurricane was pending; but the captain, coming on deck, soon explained the phenomena. "It's only a volcano," said he. "I knew there was one hereabouts, but thought it was extinct.--Up, there, and furl topgallant sails! We'll likely have a breeze, and it's well to be ready." As he spoke, a shower began to fall, which, we quickly observed, was not rain, but fine ashes. As we were many miles distant from the volcano, these must have been carried to us from it by the wind. As the captain had predicted, a stiff breeze soon afterwards sprang up, under the influence of which we speedily left the volcano far behind us; but during the greater part of the night we could see its lurid glare and hear its distant thunder. The shower did not cease to fall for several hours, and we must have sailed under it for nearly forty miles--perhaps farther. When we emerged from the cloud, our decks and every part of the rigging were completely covered with a thick coat of ashes. I was much interested in this, and recollected that Jack had often spoken of many of the islands of the Pacific as being volcanoes, either active or extinct, and had said that the whole region was more or less volcanic, and that some scientific men were of opinion that the islands of the Pacific were nothing more or less than the mountain-tops of a huge continent which had sunk under the influence of volcanic agency. Three days after passing the volcano, we found ourselves a few miles to windward of an island of considerable size and luxuriant aspect. It consisted of two mountains, which seemed to be nearly four thousand feet high. They were separated from each other by a broad valley, whose thick-growing trees ascended a considerable distance up the mountain-sides; and rich, level plains or meadow-land spread round the base of the mountains, except at the point immediately opposite the large valley, where a river seemed to carry the trees, as it were, along with it down to the white, sandy shore. The mountain-tops, unlike those of our Coral Island, were sharp, needle-shaped, and bare, while their sides were more rugged and grand in outline than anything I had yet seen in those seas. Bloody Bill was beside me when the island first hove in sight. "Ah!" he exclaimed, "I know that island well. They call it Emo." "Have you been there before, then?" I inquired. "Ay, that I have, often, and so has this schooner. 'Tis a famous island for sandal-wood. We have taken many cargoes of it already--and have paid for them, too, for the savages are so numerous that we dared not try to take it by force. But our captain has tried to cheat them so often that they're beginnin' not to like us overmuch now. Besides, the men behaved ill the last time we were here, and I wonder the captain is not afraid to venture. But he's afraid o' nothin' earthly, I believe." We soon ran inside the barrier coral reef, and let go our anchor in six fathoms water, just opposite the mouth of a small creek, whose shores were densely covered with mangroves and tall umbrageous trees. The principal village of the natives lay about half-a-mile from this point. Ordering the boat out, the captain jumped into it, and ordered me to follow him. The men, fifteen in number, were well armed; and the mate was directed to have Long Tom ready for emergencies. "Give way, lads!" cried the captain. The oars fell into the water at the word, the boat shot from the schooner's side, and in a few minutes reached the shore. Here, contrary to our expectation, we were met with the utmost cordiality by Romata, the principal chief of the island, who conducted us to his house and gave us mats to sit upon. I observed in passing that the natives, of whom there were two or three thousand, were totally unarmed. After a short preliminary palaver, a feast of baked pigs and various roots was spread before us, of which we partook sparingly, and then proceeded to business. The captain stated his object in visiting the island, regretted that there had been a slight misunderstanding during the last visit, and hoped that no ill-will was borne by either party, and that a satisfactory trade would be accomplished. Romata answered that he had forgotten there had been any differences between them, protested that he was delighted to see his friends again, and assured them they should have every assistance in cutting and embarking the wood. The terms were afterwards agreed on, and we rose to depart. All this conversation was afterwards explained to me by Bill, who understood the language pretty well. Romata accompanied us on board, and explained that a great chief from another island was then on a visit to him, and that he was to be ceremoniously entertained on the following day. After begging to be allowed to introduce him to us, and receiving permission, he sent his canoe ashore to bring him off. At the same time he gave orders to bring on board his two favourites, a cock and a paroquet. While the canoe was gone on this errand, I had time to regard the savage chief attentively. He was a man of immense size, with massive but beautifully moulded limbs and figure, only parts of which--the broad chest and muscular arms--were uncovered; for although the lower orders generally wore no other clothing than a strip of cloth called _maro_ round their loins, the chief, on particular occasions, wrapped his person in voluminous folds of a species of native cloth made from the bark of the Chinese paper-mulberry. Romata wore a magnificent black beard and moustache, and his hair was frizzed out to such an extent that it resembled a large turban, in which was stuck a long wooden pin! I afterwards found that this pin served for scratching the head, for which purpose the fingers were too short without disarranging the hair. But Romata put himself to much greater inconvenience on account of his hair; for we found that he slept with his head resting on a wooden pillow, in which was cut a hollow for the neck, so that the hair of the sleeper might not be disarranged. In ten minutes the canoe returned, bringing the other chief, who certainly presented a most extraordinary appearance, having painted one half of his face red and the other half yellow, besides ornamenting it with various designs in black! Otherwise he was much the same in appearance as Romata, though not so powerfully built. As this chief had never seen a ship before--except, perchance, some of the petty traders that at long intervals visit these remote islands--he was much taken up with the neatness and beauty of all the fittings of the schooner. He was particularly struck with a musket which was shown to him, and asked where the white men got hatchets hard enough to cut the tree of which the barrel was made! While he was thus engaged, his brother-chief stood aloof, talking with the captain, and fondling a superb cock and a little blue-headed paroquet--the favourites of which I have before spoken. I observed that all the other natives walked in a crouching posture while in the presence of Romata. Before our guests left us, the captain ordered the brass gun to be uncovered and fired for their gratification; and I have every reason to believe he did so for the purpose of showing our superior power, in case the natives should harbour any evil designs against us. Romata had never seen this gun before, as it had not been uncovered on previous visits, and the astonishment with which he viewed it was very amusing. Being desirous of knowing its power, he begged that the captain would fire it; so a shot was put into it. The chiefs were then directed to look at a rock about two miles out at sea, and the gun was fired. In a second the top of the rock was seen to burst asunder, and to fall in fragments into the sea. Romata was so delighted with the success of this shot that he pointed to a man who was walking on the shore, and begged the captain to fire at him, evidently supposing that his permission was quite sufficient to justify the captain in such an act. He was therefore surprised, and not a little annoyed, when the captain refused to fire at the native and ordered the gun to be housed. Of all the things, however, that afforded matter of amusement to these savages, that which pleased Romata's visitor most was the ship's pump. He never tired of examining it and pumping up the water. Indeed, so much was he taken up with this pump that he could not be prevailed on to return on shore, but sent a canoe to fetch his favourite stool, on which he seated himself, and spent the remainder of the day in pumping the bilge-water out of the ship! Next day the crew went ashore to cut sandal-wood, while the captain, with one or two men, remained on board, in order to be ready, if need be, with the brass gun, which was unhoused and conspicuously elevated, with its capacious muzzle directed point-blank at the chief's house. The men were fully armed, as usual; and the captain ordered me to go with them, to assist in the work. I was much pleased with this order, for it freed me from the captain's company, which I could not now endure, and it gave me an opportunity of seeing the natives. As we wound along in single file through the rich, fragrant groves of banana, cocoa-nut, bread-fruit, and other trees, I observed that there were many of the plum and banyan trees, with which I had become familiar on the Coral Island. I noticed, also, large quantities of taro--roots, yams, and sweet potatoes growing in enclosures. On turning into an open glade of the woods, we came abruptly upon a cluster of native houses. They were built chiefly of bamboos, and were thatched with the large, thick leaves of the pandanus; but many of them had little more than a sloping roof and three sides with an open front, being the most simple shelter from the weather that could well be imagined. Within these and around them were groups of natives--men, women, and children--who all stood up to gaze at us as we marched along, followed by the party of men whom the chief had sent to escort us. About half-a-mile inland we arrived at the spot where the sandal-wood grew, and while the men set to work I clambered up an adjoining hill to observe the country. About midday the chief arrived with several followers, one of whom carried a baked pig on a wooden platter, with yams and potatoes on several plantain leaves, which he presented to the men, who sat down under the shade of a tree to dine. The chief sat down to dine also; but, to my surprise, instead of feeding himself, one of his wives performed that office for him! I was seated beside Bill, and asked him the reason of this. "It is beneath his dignity, I believe, to feed himself," answered Bill; "but I dare say he's not particular, except on great occasions. They've a strange custom among them, Ralph, which is called _tabu_, and they carry it to great lengths. If a man chooses a particular tree for his god, the fruit o' that tree is tabued to him; and if he eats it, he is sure to be killed by his people--and eaten, of course, for killing means eating hereaway. Then, you see that great mop o' hair on the chief's head? Well, he has a lot o' barbers to keep it in order; and it's a law that whoever touches the head of a living chief or the body of a dead one, his hands are tabued. So in that way the barbers' hands are always tabued, and they daren't use them for their lives, but have to be fed like big babies--as they are, sure enough!" "That's odd, Bill. But look there," said I, pointing to a man whose skin was of a much lighter colour than the generality of the natives. "I've seen a few of these light-skinned fellows among the Feejeeans. They seem to me to be of quite a different race." "So they are," answered Bill. "These fellows come from the Tongan Islands, which lie a long way to the eastward. They come here to build their big war-canoes; and as these take two, and sometimes four, years to build, there's always some o' the brown-skins among the black sarpents o' these islands." "By the way, Bill," said I, "your mentioning serpents reminds me that I have not seen a reptile of any kind since I came to this part of the world." "No more there are any," said Bill, "if ye except the niggers themselves. There's none on the islands but a lizard or two, and some sich harmless things; but I never seed any myself. If there's none on the land, however, there's more than enough in the water; and that reminds me of a wonderful brute they have here. But come, I'll show it to you." So saying, Bill arose, and leaving the men still busy with the baked pig, led me into the forest. After proceeding a short distance we came upon a small pond of stagnant water. A native lad had followed us, to whom we called and beckoned him to come to us. On Bill saying a few words to him, which I did not understand, the boy advanced to the edge of the pond and gave a low, peculiar whistle. Immediately the water became agitated, and an enormous eel thrust its head above the surface and allowed the youth to touch it. It was about twelve feet long, and as thick round the body as a man's thigh. "There!" said Bill, his lip curling with contempt; "what do you think of that for a god, Ralph? This is one o' their gods, and it has been fed with dozens o' livin' babies already. How many more it'll get afore it dies is hard to say." "Babies!" said I with an incredulous look. "Ay, babies," returned Bill. "Your soft-hearted folk at home would say, `Oh, horrible! Impossible!' to that, and then go away as comfortable and unconcerned as if their sayin' `Horrible! impossible!' had made it a lie. But I tell you, Ralph, it's a _fact_. I've seed it with my own eyes the last time I was here; an' mayhap, if you stop awhile at this accursed place and keep a sharp lookout, you'll see it too. They don't feed it regularly with livin' babies, but they give it one now and then as a treat.--Bah, you brute!" cried Bill in disgust, giving the reptile a kick on the snout with his heavy boot that sent it sweltering back in agony into its loathsome pool. I thought it lucky for Bill--indeed for all of us--that the native youth's back happened to be turned at the time, for I am certain that if the poor savages had come to know that we had so rudely handled their god we should have had to fight our way back to the ship. As we retraced our steps I questioned my companion further on this subject. "How comes it, Bill, that the mothers allow such a dreadful thing to be done?" "Allow it? the mothers _do_ it! It seems to me that there's nothing too fiendish or diabolical for these people to do. Why, in some of the islands they have an institution called the _Areoi_, and the persons connected with that body are ready for any wickedness that mortal man can devise. In fact, they stick at nothing; and one o' their customs is to murder their infants the moment they are born. The mothers agree to it, and the fathers do it. And the mildest ways they have of murdering them is by sticking them through the body with sharp splinters of bamboo, strangling them with their thumbs, or burying them alive and stamping them to death while under the sod." I felt sick at heart while my companion recited these horrors. "But it's a curious fact," he continued after a pause, during which we walked in silence towards the spot where we had left our comrades--"it's a curious fact that wherever the missionaries get a footin' all these things come to an end at once, an' the savages take to doin' each other good and singin' psalms, just like Methodists." "God bless the missionaries," said I, while a feeling of enthusiasm filled my heart so that I could speak with difficulty. "God bless and prosper the missionaries till they get a footing in every island of the sea!" "I would say Amen to that prayer, Ralph, if I could," said Bill, in a deep, sad voice; "but it would be a mere mockery for a man to ask a blessing for others who dare not ask one for himself. But, Ralph," he continued, "I've not told you half o' the abominations I have seen durin' my life in these seas. If we pull long together, lad, I'll tell you more; and if times have not changed very much since I was here last, it's like that you'll have a chance o' seeing a little for yourself before long." CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. THE SANDAL-WOOD PARTY--NATIVE CHILDREN'S GAMES SOMEWHAT SURPRISING-- DESPERATE AMUSEMENTS SUDDENLY AND FATALLY BROUGHT TO A CLOSE--AN OLD FRIEND RECOGNISED--NEWS--ROMATA'S MAD CONDUCT. Next day the wood-cutting party went ashore again, and I accompanied them as before. During the dinner-hour I wandered into the woods alone, being disinclined for food that day. I had not rambled far when I found myself unexpectedly on the seashore, having crossed a narrow neck of land which separated the native village from a large bay. Here I found a party of the islanders busy with one of their war-canoes, which was almost ready for launching. I stood for a long time watching this party with great interest, and observed that they fastened the timbers and planks to each other very much in the same way in which I had seen Jack fasten those of our little boat. But what surprised me most was its immense length, which I measured carefully, and found to be a hundred feet long; and it was so capacious that it could have held three hundred men. It had the unwieldy outrigger and enormously high stern-posts which I had remarked on the canoe that came to us while I was on the Coral Island. Observing some boys playing at games a short way along the beach, I resolved to go and watch them; but as I turned from the natives who were engaged so busily and cheerfully at their work, I little thought of the terrible event that hung on the completion of that war-canoe. Advancing towards the children, who were so numerous that I began to think this must be the general playground of the village, I sat down on a grassy bank under the shade of a plantain-tree to watch them. And a happier or more noisy crew I have never seen. There were at least two hundred of them, both boys and girls, all of whom were clad in no other garments than their own glossy little black skins, except the maro, or strip of cloth, round the loins of the boys, and a very short petticoat or kilt on the girls. They did not all play at the same game, but amused themselves in different groups. One band was busily engaged in a game exactly similar to our blind man's buff. Another set were walking on stilts, which raised the children three feet from the ground. They were very expert at this amusement, and seldom tumbled. In another place I observed a group of girls standing together, and apparently enjoying themselves very much; so I went up to see what they were doing, and found that they were opening their eyelids with their fingers till their eyes appeared of an enormous size, and then thrusting pieces of straw between the upper and lower lids, across the eyeball, to keep them in that position! This seemed to me, I must confess, a very foolish as well as dangerous amusement. Nevertheless, the children seemed to be greatly delighted with the hideous faces they made. I pondered this subject a good deal, and thought that if little children knew how silly they seemed to grown-up people when, they make faces, they would not be so fond of doing it. In another place were a number of boys engaged in flying kites; and I could not help wondering that some of the games of those little savages should be so like to our own, although they had never seen us at play. But the kites were different from ours in many respects, being of every variety of shape. They were made of very thin cloth, and the boys raised them to a wonderful height in the air by means of twine made from the cocoa-nut husk. Other games there were, some of which showed the natural depravity of the hearts of these poor savages, and made me wish fervently that missionaries might be sent out to them. But the amusement which the greatest number of the children of both sexes seemed to take chief delight in was swimming and diving in the sea, and the expertness which they exhibited was truly amazing. They seemed to have two principal games in the water, one of which was to dive off a sort of stage which had been erected near a deep part of the sea, and chase each other in the water. Some of them went down to an extraordinary depth; others skimmed along the surface, or rolled over and over like porpoises, or diving under each other, came up unexpectedly and pulled each other down by a leg or an arm. They never seemed to tire of this sport, and from the great heat of the water in the South Seas, they could remain in it nearly all day without feeling chilled. Many of these children were almost infants, scarce able to walk; yet they staggered down the beach, flung their round, fat little black bodies fearlessly into deep water, and struck out to sea with as much confidence as ducklings. The other game to which I have referred was swimming in the surf. But as this is an amusement in which all engage, from children of ten to grey-headed men of sixty, and as I had an opportunity of witnessing it in perfection the day following, I shall describe it more minutely. I suppose it was in honour of their guest that this grand swimming-match was got up, for Romata came and told the captain that they were going to engage in it, and begged him to "come and see." "What sort of amusement is this surf-swimming?" I inquired of Bill as we walked together to a part of the shore on which several thousands of the natives were assembled. "It's a very favourite lark with these 'xtr'or'nary critters," replied Bill, giving a turn to the quid of tobacco that invariably bulged out of his left cheek. "Ye see, Ralph, them fellows take to the water as soon a'most as they can walk, an' long before they can do that anything respectably, so that they are as much at home in the sea as on the land. Well, ye see, I 'spose they found swimmin' for miles out to sea, and divin' fathoms deep, wasn't excitin' enough, so they invented this game o' swimmin' on the surf. Each man and boy, as you see, has got a short board or plank, with which he swims out for a mile or more to sea, and then, gettin' on the top o' yon thunderin' breaker, they come to shore on the top of it, yellin' and screechin' like fiends. It's a marvel to me that they're not dashed to shivers on the coral reef, for sure an' sart'in am I that if any o' us tried it, we wouldn't be worth the fluke of a broken anchor after the wave fell. But there they go!" As he spoke, several hundreds of the natives, amongst whom we were now standing, uttered a loud yell, rushed down the beach, plunged into the surf, and were carried off by the seething foam of the retreating wave. At the point where we stood, the encircling coral reef joined the shore, so that the magnificent breakers, which a recent stiff breeze had rendered larger than usual, fell in thunder at the feet of the multitudes who lined the beach. For some time the swimmers continued to strike out to sea, breasting over the swell like hundreds of black seals. Then they all turned, and watching an approaching billow, mounted its white crest, and each laying his breast on the short, flat board, came rolling towards the shore, careering on the summit of the mighty wave, while they and the onlookers shouted and yelled with excitement. Just as the monster wave curled in solemn majesty to fling its bulky length upon the beach, most of the swimmers slid back into the trough behind; others, slipping off their boards, seized them in their hands, and plunging through the watery waste, swam out to repeat the amusement; but a few, who seemed to me the most reckless, continued their career until they were launched upon the beach and enveloped in the churning foam and spray. One of these last came in on the crest of the wave most manfully, and landed with a violent bound almost on the spot where Bill and I stood. I saw by his peculiar head-dress that he was the chief whom the tribe entertained as their guest. The sea-water had removed nearly all the paint with which his face had been covered, and as he rose panting to his feet, I recognised, to my surprise, the features of Tararo, my old friend of the Coral Island! Tararo at the same moment recognised me, and advancing quickly, took me round the neck and rubbed noses, which had the effect of transferring a good deal of the moist paint from his nose to mine. Then, recollecting that this was not the white man's mode of salutation, he grasped me by the hand and shook it violently. "Hallo, Ralph!" cried Bill in surprise, "that chap seems to have taken a sudden fancy to you, or he must be an old acquaintance." "Right, Bill," I replied; "he is indeed an old acquaintance." And I explained, in a few words, that he was the chief whose party Jack and Peterkin and I had helped to save. Tararo having thrown away his surf-board, entered into an animated conversation with Bill, pointing frequently during the course of it to me, whereby I concluded he must be telling him about the memorable battle and the part we had taken in it. When he paused I begged of Bill to ask him about the woman Avatea, for I had some hope that she might have come with Tararo on this visit. "And ask him," said I, "who she is, for I am persuaded she is of a different race from the Feejeeans." On the mention of her name the chief frowned darkly, and seemed to speak with much anger. "You're right, Ralph," said Bill when the chief had ceased to talk; "she's not a Feejee girl, but a Samoan. How she ever came to this place the chief does not very clearly explain; but he says she was taken in war, and that he got her three years ago, an' kept her as his daughter ever since. Lucky for her, poor girl, else she'd have been roasted and eaten like the rest." "But why does Tararo frown and look so angry?" said I. "Because the girl's somewhat obstinate, like most o' the sex, an' won't marry the man he wants her to. It seems that a chief of some other island came on a visit to Tararo and took a fancy to her; but she wouldn't have him on no account, bein' already in love, and engaged to a young chief whom Tararo hates, and she kicked up a desperate shindy. So, as he was goin' on a war-expedition in his canoe, he left her to think about it, sayin' he'd be back in six months or so, when he hoped she wouldn't be so obstropolous. This happened just a week ago; an' Tararo says that if she's not ready to go, when the chief returns, as his bride, she'll be sent to him as a _long pig_." "As a long pig!" I exclaimed in surprise. "Why, what does he mean by that?" "He means somethin' very unpleasant," answered Bill with a frown. "You see, these blackguards eat men an' women just as readily as they eat pigs; and as baked pigs and baked men are very like each other in appearance, they call men _long_ pigs. If Avatea goes to this fellow as a long pig, it's all up with her, poor thing!" "Is she on the island now?" I asked eagerly. "No; she's at Tararo's island." "And where does it lie?" "About fifty or sixty miles to the south'ard o' this," returned Bill; "but I--" At this moment we were startled by the cry of "mao! mao--a shark! a shark!" which was immediately followed by a shriek that rang clear and fearfully loud above the tumult of cries that arose from the savages in the water and on the land. We turned hastily towards the direction whence the cry came, and had just time to observe the glaring eyeballs of one of the swimmers as he tossed his arms in the air. Next instant he was pulled under the waves. A canoe was instantly launched, and the hand of the drowning man was caught; but only half of his body was dragged from the maw of the monster, which followed the canoe until the water became so shallow that it could scarcely swim. The crest of the next billow was tinged with red as it rolled towards the shore. In most countries of the world this would have made a deep impression on the spectators; but the only effect it had upon these islanders was to make them hurry with all speed out of the sea, lest a similar fate should befall some of the others. But so utterly reckless were they of human life that it did not for a moment suspend the progress of their amusements. It is true the surf-swimming ended for that time somewhat abruptly, but they immediately proceeded with other games. Bill told me that sharks do not often attack the surf-swimmers, being frightened away by the immense numbers of men and boys in the water, and by the shouting and splashing that they make. "But," said he, "such a thing as you have seen just now don't frighten them much. They'll be at it again to-morrow or next day, just as if there wasn't a single shark between Feejee and Nova Zembla." After this the natives had a series of wrestling and boxing matches; and being men of immense size and muscle, they did a good deal of injury to each other, especially in boxing, in which not only the lower orders but several of the chiefs and priests engaged. Each bout was very quickly terminated; for they did not pretend to a scientific knowledge of the art, and wasted, no time in sparring, but hit straight out at each other's heads, and their blows were delivered with great force. Frequently one of the combatants was knocked down with a single blow, and one gigantic fellow hit his adversary so severely that he drove the skin entirely off his forehead. This feat was hailed with immense applause by the spectators. During these exhibitions, which were very painful to me, though I confess I could not refrain from beholding them, I was struck with the beauty of many of the figures and designs that were tattooed on the persons of the chiefs and principal men. One figure, that seemed to me very elegant, was that of a palm-tree tattooed on the back of a man's leg, the roots rising, as it were, from under his heel, the stem ascending the tendon of the ankle, and the graceful head branching out upon the calf. I afterwards learned that this process of tattooing is very painful, and takes long to do, commencing at the age of ten, and being continued at intervals up to the age of thirty. It is done by means of an instrument made of bone, with a number of sharp teeth, with which the skin is punctured. Into these punctures a preparation made from the kernel of the candle-nut, mixed with cocoa-nut oil, is rubbed, and the mark thus made is indelible. The operation is performed by a class of men whose profession it is, and they tattoo as much at a time as the person on whom they are operating can bear, which is not much, the pain and inflammation caused by tattooing being very great-- sometimes causing death. Some of the chiefs were tattooed with an ornamental stripe down the legs, which gave them the appearance of being clad in tights; others had marks round the ankles and insteps, which looked like tight-fitting and elegant boots. Their faces were also tattooed, and their breasts were very profusely marked with every imaginable species of device--muskets, dogs, birds, pigs, clubs, and canoes, intermingled with lozenges, squares, circles, and other arbitrary figures. The women were not tattooed so much as the men, having only a few marks on their feet and arms. But I must say, however objectionable this strange practice may be, it nevertheless had this good effect--that it took away very much from their appearance of nakedness. Next day, while we were returning from the woods to our schooner, we observed Romata rushing about in the neighbourhood of his house, apparently mad with passion. "Ah!" said Bill to me, "there he's at his old tricks again. That's his way when he gets drink. The natives make a sort of drink o' their own, and it makes him bad enough; but when he gets brandy he's like a wild tiger. The captain, I suppose, has given him a bottle, as usual, to keep him in good-humour. After drinkin' he usually goes to sleep, and the people know it well, and keep out of his way for fear they should waken him. Even the babies are taken out of earshot; for when he's waked up he rushes out, just as you see him now, and spears or clubs the first person he meets." It seemed at the present time, however, that no deadly weapon had been in his way, for the infuriated chief was raging about without one. Suddenly he caught sight of an unfortunate man who was trying to conceal himself behind a tree. Rushing towards him, Romata struck him a terrible blow on the head, which knocked out the poor man's eye and also dislocated the chief's finger. The wretched creature offered no resistance; he did not even attempt to parry the blow. Indeed, from what Bill said, I found that he might consider himself lucky in having escaped with his life, which would certainly have been forfeited had the chief been possessed of a club at the time. "Have these wretched creatures no law among themselves," said I, "which can restrain such wickedness?" "None," replied Bill. "The chief's word is law. He might kill and eat a dozen of his own subjects any day for nothing more than his own pleasure, and nobody would take the least notice of it." This ferocious deed took place within sight of our party as we wended our way to the beach, but I could not observe any other expression on the faces of the men than that of total indifference or contempt. It seemed to me a very awful thing that it should be possible for men to come to such hardness of heart and callousness to the sight of bloodshed and violence; but, indeed, I began to find that such constant exposure to scenes of blood was having a slight effect upon myself, and I shuddered when I came to think that I too was becoming callous. I thought upon this subject much that night while I walked up and down the deck during my hours of watch, and I came to the conclusion that if I, who hated, abhorred, and detested such bloody deeds as I had witnessed within the last few weeks, could so soon come to be less sensitive about them, how little wonder that these poor, ignorant savages, who were born and bred in familiarity therewith, should think nothing of them at all, and should hold human life in so very slight esteem! CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. MISCHIEF BREWING--MY BLOOD IS MADE TO RUN COLD--EVIL CONSULTATIONS AND WICKED RESOLVES--BLOODY BILL ATTEMPTS TO DO GOOD, AND FAILS--THE ATTACK--WHOLESALE MURDER--THE FLIGHT--THE ESCAPE. Next morning I awoke with a feverish brow and a feeling of deep depression at my heart; and the more I thought on my unhappy fate, the more wretched and miserable did I feel. I was surrounded on all sides by human beings of the most dreadful character, to whom the shedding of blood was mere pastime. On shore were the natives, whose practices were so horrible that I could not think of them without shuddering. On board were none but pirates of the blackest dye, who, although not cannibals, were foul murderers, and more blameworthy even than the savages, inasmuch as they knew better. Even Bill, with whom I had, under the strange circumstances of my lot, formed a kind of intimacy, was so fierce in his nature as to have acquired the title of "Bloody" from his vile companions. I felt very much cast down the more I considered the subject and the impossibility of delivery, as it seemed to me--at least, for a long time to come. At last, in my feeling of utter helplessness, I prayed fervently to the Almighty that He would deliver me out of my miserable condition; and when I had done so I felt some degree of comfort. When the captain came on deck, before the hour at which the men usually started for the woods, I begged of him to permit me to remain aboard that day, as I did not feel well; but he looked at me angrily, and ordered me, in a surly tone, to get ready to go on shore as usual. The fact was that the captain had been out of humour for some time past. Romata and he had had some differences, and high words had passed between them, during which the chief had threatened to send a fleet of his war-canoes, with a thousand men, to break up and burn the schooner; whereupon the captain smiled sarcastically, and going up to the chief, gazed sternly in his face while he said, "I have only to raise my little finger just now, and my big gun will blow your whole village to atoms in five minutes!" Although the chief was a bold man, he quailed before the pirate's glance and threat, and made no reply; but a bad feeling had been raised, and old sores had been opened. I had, therefore, to go with the woodcutters that day. Before starting, however, the captain called me into the cabin and said: "Here, Ralph; I've got a mission for you, lad. That blackguard Romata is in the dumps, and nothing will mollify him but a gift; so do you go up to his house and give him these whale's teeth, with my compliments. Take with you one of the men who can speak the language." I looked at the gift in some surprise, for it consisted of six white whale's teeth, and two of the same dyed bright red, which seemed to me very paltry things. However, I did not dare to hesitate, or to ask any questions; so gathering them up, I left the cabin, and was soon on my way to the chief's house, accompanied by Bill. On expressing my surprise at the gift, he said: "They're paltry enough to you or me, Ralph, but they're considered of great value by them chaps. They're a sort o' cash among them. The red ones are the most prized, one of them bein' equal to twenty o' the white ones. I suppose the only reason for their bein' valuable is that there ain't many of them, and they're hard to be got." On arriving at the house we found Romata sitting on a mat, in the midst of a number of large bales of native cloth and other articles, which had been brought to him as presents from time to time by inferior chiefs. He received us rather haughtily; but on Bill explaining the nature of our errand, he became very condescending, and his eyes glistened with satisfaction when he received the whale's teeth, although he laid them aside with an assumption of kingly indifference. "Go," said he with a wave of the hand--"go tell your captain that he may cut wood to-day, but not to-morrow. He must come ashore; I want to have a palaver with him." As we left the house to return to the woods, Bill shook his head. "There's mischief brewin' in that black rascal's head. I know him of old. But what comes here?" As he spoke, we heard the sound of laughter and shouting in the wood, and presently there issued from it a band of savages, in the midst of whom were a number of men bearing burdens on their shoulders. At first I thought that these burdens were poles with something rolled round them, the end of each pole resting on a man's shoulder; but on a nearer approach I saw that they were human beings, tied hand and foot, and so lashed to the poles that they could not move. I counted twenty of them as they passed. "More murder!" said Bill in a voice that sounded between a hoarse laugh and a groan. "Surely they are not going to murder them?" said I, looking anxiously into Bill's face. "I don't know, Ralph," replied Bill, "what they're goin' to do with them; but I fear they mean no good when they tie fellows up in that way." As we continued our way towards the woodcutters, I observed that Bill looked anxiously over his shoulder in the direction where the procession had disappeared. At last he stopped, and turning abruptly on his heel, said: "I tell ye what it is, Ralph: I must be at the bottom o' that affair. Let us follow these black scoundrels and see what they're goin' to do." I must say I had no wish to pry further into their bloody practices; but Bill seemed bent on it, so I turned and went. We passed rapidly through the bush, being guided in the right direction by the shouts of the savages. Suddenly there was a dead silence, which continued for some time, while Bill and I involuntarily quickened our pace until we were running at the top of our speed across the narrow neck of land previously mentioned. As we reached the verge of the wood we discovered the savages surrounding the large war-canoe, which they were apparently on the point of launching. Suddenly the multitude put their united strength to the canoe; but scarcely had the huge machine begun to move when a yell, the most appalling that ever fell upon my ear, rose high above the shouting of the savages. It had not died away when another and another smote upon my throbbing ear, and then I saw that these inhuman monsters were actually launching their canoe over the living bodies of their victims. But there was no pity in the breasts of these men. Forward they went in ruthless indifference, shouting as they went, while high above their voices rang the dying shrieks of those wretched creatures as, one after another, the ponderous canoe passed over them, burst the eyeballs from their sockets, and sent the life-blood gushing from their mouths. Oh reader, this is no fiction! I would not, for the sake of thrilling you with horror, invent so terrible a scene. It was witnessed. It is true--true as that accursed sin which has rendered the human heart capable of such diabolical enormities! When it was over I turned round and fell upon the grass with a deep groan; but Bill seized me by the arm, and lifting me up as if I had been a child, cried: "Come along, lad; let's away!" And so, staggering and stumbling over the tangled underwood, we fled from the fatal spot. During the remainder of that day I felt as if I were in a horrible dream. I scarce knew what was said to me, and was more than once blamed by the men for idling my time. At last the hour to return aboard came. We marched down to the beach, and I felt relief for the first time when my feet rested on the schooner's deck. In the course of the evening I overheard part of a conversation between the captain and the first mate, which startled me not a little. They were down in the cabin, and conversed in an undertone; but the skylight being off; I overhead every word that was said. "I don't half-like it," said the mate. "It seems to me that we'll only have hard fightin' and no pay." "No pay!" repeated the captain in a voice of suppressed anger. "Do you call a good cargo all for nothing no pay?" "Very true," returned the mate; "but we've got the cargo aboard. Why not cut your cable and take French leave o' them? What's the use o' tryin' to kill the blackguards when it'll do us no manner o' good?" "Mate," said the captain in a low voice, "you talk like a fresh-water sailor. I can only attribute this shyness to some strange delusion, for surely,"--his voice assumed a slightly sneering tone as he said this--"surely I am not to suppose that you have become soft-hearted! Besides, you are wrong in regard to the cargo being aboard; there's a good quarter of it lying in the woods, and that blackguard chief knows it, and won't let me take it off. He defied us to do our worst yesterday." "Defied us! did he?" cried the mate with a bitter laugh. "Poor, contemptible thing!" "And yet he seems not so contemptible but that you are afraid to attack him." "Who said I was afraid?" growled the mate sulkily. "I'm as ready as any man in the ship. But, captain, what is it that you intend to do?" "I intend to muffle the sweeps and row the schooner up to the head of the creek there, from which point we can command the pile of sandal-wood with our gun. Then I shall land with all the men except two, who shall take care of the schooner and be ready with the boat to take us off. We can creep through the woods to the head of the village, where these cannibals are always dancing round their suppers of human flesh; and if the carbines of the men are loaded with a heavy charge of buck-shot, we can drop forty or fifty at the first volley. After that the thing will be easy enough. The savages will take to the mountains in a body, and we shall take what we require, up anchor, and away." To this plan the mate at length agreed. As he left the cabin, I heard the captain say: "Give the men an extra glass of grog, and don't forget the buck-shot." The reader may conceive the horror with which I heard this murderous conversation. I immediately repeated it to Bill, who seemed much perplexed about it. At length he said: "I'll tell you what I'll do, Ralph. I'll swim ashore after dark and fix a musket to a tree not far from the place where we'll have to land, and I'll tie a long string to the trigger, so that when our fellows cross it they'll let it off, and so alarm the village in time to prevent an attack, but not in time to prevent us gettin' back to the boat.--So, Master Captain," added Bill with a smile that, for the first time, seemed to me to be mingled with good-natured cheerfulness, "you'll be balked at least for once in your life by Bloody Bill." After it grew dark, Bill put this resolve in practice. He slipped over the side with a musket in his left hand, while with his right he swam ashore and entered the woods. He soon returned, having accomplished his purpose, and got on board without being seen, I being the only one on deck. When the hour of midnight approached, the men were mustered on deck, the cable was cut, and the muffled sweeps got out. These sweeps were immensely large oars, each requiring a couple of men to work it. In a few minutes we entered the mouth of the creek, which was indeed the mouth of a small river, and took about half-an-hour to ascend it, although the spot where we intended to land was not more than six hundred yards from the mouth, because there was a slight current against us, and the mangroves which narrowed the creek impeded the rowers in some places. Having reached the spot, which was so darkened by overhanging trees that we could see with difficulty, a small kedge-anchor attached to a thin line was let softly down over the stern. "Now, lads," whispered the captain as he walked along the line of men, who were all armed to the teeth, "don't be in a hurry, aim low, and don't waste your first shots." He then pointed to the boat, into which the men crowded in silence. There was no room to row; but oars were not needed, as a slight push against the side of the schooner sent the boat gliding to the shore. "There's no need of leaving two in the boat," whispered the mate as the men stepped out; "we shall want all our hands. Let Ralph stay." The captain assented, and ordered me to stand in readiness with the boat-hook, to shove ashore at a moment's notice if they should return, or to shove off if any of the savages should happen to approach. He then threw his carbine into the hollow of his arm, and glided through the bushes, followed by his men. With a throbbing heart I awaited the result of our plan. I knew the exact locality where the musket was placed, for Bill had described it to me, and I kept my straining eyes fixed upon the spot. But no sound came, and I began to fear that either they had gone in another direction or that Bill had not fixed the string properly. Suddenly I heard a faint click, and observed one or two bright sparks among the bushes. My heart immediately sank within me, for I knew at once that the trigger had indeed been pulled, but that the priming had not caught. The plan, therefore, had utterly failed. A feeling of dread now began to creep over me as I stood in the boat, in that dark, silent spot, awaiting the issue of this murderous expedition. I shuddered as I glanced at the water that glided past like a dark reptile. I looked back at the schooner; but her hull was just barely visible, while her tapering masts were lost among the trees which overshadowed her. Her lower sails were set, but so thick was the gloom that they were quite invisible. Suddenly I heard a shot. In a moment a thousand voices raised a yell in the village; again the cry rose on the night air, and was followed by broken shouts as of scattered parties of men bounding into the woods. Then I heard another shout, loud and close at hand; it was the voice of the captain cursing the man who had fired the premature shot. Then came the order, "Forward!" followed by a wild hurrah of our men as they charged the savages. Shots now rang in quick succession, and at last a loud volley startled the echoes of the woods. It was followed by a multitude of wild shrieks, which were immediately drowned in another hurrah from the men, the distance of the sound proving that they were driving their enemies before them towards the sea. While I was listening intently to these sounds, which were now mingled in confusion, I was startled by the rustling of the leaves not far from me. At first I thought it was a party of savages who had observed the schooner, but I was speedily undeceived by observing a body of natives-- apparently several hundreds, as far as I could guess in the uncertain light--bounding through the woods towards the scene of battle. I saw at once that this was a party who had outflanked our men, and would speedily attack them in the rear. And so it turned out; for in a short time the shouts increased tenfold, and among them I thought I heard a death-cry uttered by voices familiar to my ear. At length the tumult of battle ceased, and from the cries of exultation that now arose from the savages, I felt assured that our men had been conquered. I was immediately thrown into dreadful consternation. What was I now to do? To be taken by the savages was too horrible to be thought of; to flee to the mountains was hopeless, as I should soon be discovered; and to take the schooner out of the creek without assistance was impossible. I resolved, however, to make the attempt, as being my only hope, and was on the point of pushing off, when my hand was stayed and my blood chilled by an appalling shriek, in which I recognised the voice of one of the crew. It was succeeded by a shout from the savages. Then came another and another shriek of agony, making my ears to tingle, as I felt convinced they were murdering the pirate crew in cold blood. With a bursting heart and my brain whirling as if on fire, I seized the boat-hook to push from shore when a man sprang from the bushes. "Stop! Ralph, stop! There, now, push off!" he cried, and bounded into the boat so violently as nearly to upset her. It was Bill's voice! In another moment we were on board--the boat made fast, the line of the anchor cut, and the sweeps run out. At the first stroke of Bill's giant arm the schooner was nearly pulled ashore, for in his haste he forgot that I could scarcely move the unwieldy oar. Springing to the stern, he lashed the rudder in such a position as that, while it aided me, it acted against him, and so rendered the force of our strokes nearly equal. The schooner now began to glide quickly down the creek; but before we reached its mouth, a yell from a thousand voices on the bank told that we were discovered. Instantly a number of the savages plunged into the water and swam towards us; but we were making so much way that they could not overtake us. One, however, an immensely powerful man, succeeded in laying hold of the cut rope that hung from the stern, and clambered quickly upon deck. Bill caught sight of him the instant his head appeared above the taffrail. But he did not cease to row, and did not appear even to notice the savage until he was within a yard of him; then dropping the sweep, he struck him a blow on the forehead with his clenched fist that felled him to the deck. Lifting him up, he hurled him overboard, and resumed the oar. But now a greater danger awaited us; for the savages had outrun us on the bank, and were about to plunge into the water ahead of the schooner. If they succeeded in doing so, our fate was sealed. For one moment Bill stood irresolute. Then drawing a pistol from his belt, he sprang to the brass gun, held the pan of his pistol over the touch-hole, and fired. The shot was succeeded by the hiss of the cannon's priming; then the blaze and the crashing thunder of the monstrous gun burst upon the savages with such deafening roar that it seemed as if their very mountains had been rent asunder. This was enough. The moment of surprise and hesitation caused by the unwonted sound gave us time to pass the point; a gentle breeze, which the dense foliage had hitherto prevented us from feeling, bulged out our sails; the schooner bent before it, and the shouts of the disappointed savages grew fainter and fainter in the distance as we were slowly wafted out to sea. CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN. REFLECTIONS--THE WOUNDED MAN--THE SQUALL--TRUE CONSOLATION--DEATH. There is a power of endurance in human beings, both in their bodies and in their minds, which, I have often thought, seems to be wonderfully adapted and exactly proportioned to the circumstances in which individuals may happen to be placed--a power which, in most cases, is sufficient to carry a man through and over every obstacle that may happen to be thrown in his path through life, no matter how high or how steep the mountain may be, but which often forsakes him the moment the summit is gained, the point of difficulty passed, and leaves him prostrated, with energies gone, nerves unstrung, and a feeling of incapacity pervading the entire frame that renders the most trifling effort almost impossible. During the greater part of that day I had been subjected to severe mental and much physical excitement, which had almost crushed me down by the time I was relieved from duty in the course of the evening. But when the expedition whose failure has just been narrated was planned, my anxieties and energies had been so powerfully aroused that I went through the protracted scenes of that terrible night without a feeling of the slightest fatigue. My mind and body were alike active and full of energy. No sooner was the last thrilling fear of danger past, however, than my faculties were utterly relaxed; and when I felt the cool breezes of the Pacific playing around my fevered brow, and heard the free waves rippling at the schooner's prow, as we left the hated island behind us, my senses forsook me, and I fell in a swoon upon the deck. From this state I was quickly aroused by Bill, who shook me by the arm, saying: "Hallo, Ralph, boy! Rouse up, lad; we're safe now! Poor thing! I believe he's fainted." And raising me in his arms he laid me on the folds of the gaff-topsail, which lay upon the deck near the tiller. "Here, take a drop o' this; it'll do you good, my boy," he added in a voice of tenderness which I had never heard him use before, while he held a brandy-flask to my lips. I raised my eyes gratefully as I swallowed a mouthful; next moment my head sank heavily upon my arm, and I fell fast asleep. I slept long, for when I awoke the sun was a good way above the horizon. I did not move on first opening my eyes, as I felt a delightful sensation of rest pervading me, and my eyes were riveted on and charmed with the gorgeous splendour of the mighty ocean that burst upon my sight. It was a dead calm; the sea seemed a sheet of undulating crystal, tipped and streaked with the saffron hues of sunrise, which had not yet merged into the glowing heat of noon; and there was a deep calm in the blue dome above that was not broken even by the usual flutter of the sea-fowl. How long I would have lain in contemplation of this peaceful scene I know not, but my mind was recalled suddenly and painfully to the past and the present by the sight of Bill, who was seated on the deck at my feet, with his head reclining, as if in sleep, on his right arm, which rested on the tiller. As he seemed to rest peacefully, I did not mean to disturb him; but the slight noise I made in raising myself on my elbow caused him to start and look round. "Well, Ralph, awake at last, my boy? You have slept long and soundly," he said, turning towards me. On beholding his countenance I sprang up in anxiety. He was deadly pale, and his hair, which hung in dishevelled locks over his face, was clotted with blood. Blood also stained his hollow cheeks and covered the front of his shirt, which, with the greater part of his dress, was torn and soiled with mud. "Oh Bill!" said I with deep anxiety, "what is the matter with you? You are ill. You must have been wounded." "Even so, lad," said Bill in a deep, soft voice, while he extended his huge frame on the couch from which I had just risen. "I've got an ugly wound, I fear; and I've been waiting for you to waken to ask you to get me a drop o' brandy and a mouthful o' bread from the cabin lockers. You seemed to sleep so sweetly, Ralph, that I didn't like to disturb you. But I don't feel up to much just now." I did not wait till he had done talking, but ran below immediately, and returned in a few seconds with a bottle of brandy and some broken biscuit. He seemed much refreshed after eating a few morsels and drinking a long draught of water mingled with a little of the spirits. Immediately afterwards he fell asleep, and I watched him anxiously until he awoke, being desirous of knowing the nature and extent of his wound. "Ha!" he exclaimed on awaking suddenly, after a slumber of an hour; "I'm the better of that nap, Ralph. I feel twice the man I was;" and he attempted to rise, but sank back again immediately with a deep groan. "Nay, Bill, you must not move, but lie still while I look at your wound. I'll make a comfortable bed for you here on deck, and get you some breakfast. After that you shall tell me how you got it. Cheer up, Bill!" I added, seeing that he turned his head away; "you'll be all right in a little, and I'll be a capital nurse to you, though I'm no doctor." I then left him, and lighted a fire in the caboose. While it was kindling, I went to the steward's pantry and procured the materials for a good breakfast, with which, in little more than half-an-hour, I returned to my companion. He seemed much better, and smiled kindly on me as I set before him a cup of coffee and a tray with several eggs and some bread on it. "Now, then, Bill," said I cheerfully, sitting down beside him on the deck, "let's fall to. I'm very hungry myself, I can tell you. But--I forgot--your wound," I added, rising; "let me look at it." I found that the wound was caused by a pistol-shot in the chest. It did not bleed much, and as it was on the right side, I was in hopes that it might not be very serious. But Bill shook his head. "However," said he, "sit down, Ralph, and I'll tell you all about it. "You see, after we left the boat an' began to push through the bushes, we went straight for the line of my musket, as I had expected. But by some unlucky chance it didn't explode, for I saw the line torn away by the men's legs, and heard the click o' the lock; so I fancy the priming had got damp and didn't catch. I was in a great quandary now what to do, for I couldn't concoct in my mind, in the hurry, any good reason for firin' off my piece. But they say necessity's the mother of invention; so just as I was giving it up and clinchin' my teeth to bide the worst o't and take what should come, a sudden thought came into my head. I stepped out before the rest, seemin' to be awful anxious to be at the savages, tripped my foot on a fallen tree, plunged head foremost into a bush, an' ov coorse my carbine exploded! Then came such a screechin' from the camp as I never heard in all my life. I rose at once, and was rushin' on with the rest when the captain called a halt. "`You did that a purpose, you villain!' he said with a tremendous oath, and drawin' a pistol from his belt, let fly right into my breast. I fell at once, and remembered no more till I was startled and brought round by the most awful yell I ever heard in my life--except, maybe, the shrieks o' them poor critters that were crushed to death under yon big canoe. Jumpin' up, I looked round, and through the trees saw a fire gleamin' not far off; the light of which showed me the captain and men tied hand and foot, each to a post, and the savages dancin' round them like demons. I had scarce looked for a second when I saw one o' them go up to the captain flourishing a knife, and before I could wink he plunged it into his breast, while another yell, like the one that roused me, rang upon my ear. I didn't wait for more, but bounding up, went crashing through the bushes into the woods. The black fellows caught sight of me, however, but not in time to prevent me jumpin' into the boat, as you know." Bill seemed to be much exhausted after this recital, and shuddered frequently during the narrative; so I refrained from continuing the subject at that time, and endeavoured to draw his mind to other things. "But now, Bill," said I, "it behoves us to think about the future, and what course of action we shall pursue. Here we are, on the wide Pacific, in a well-appointed schooner, which is our own--at least, no one has a better claim to it than we have--and the world lies before us. Moreover, here comes a breeze, so we must make up our minds which way to steer." "Ralph, boy," said my companion, "it matters not to me which way we go. I fear that my time is short now. Go where you will; I'm content." "Well, then, Bill, I think we had better steer to the Coral Island and see what has become of my dear old comrades, Jack and Peterkin. I believe the island has no name, but the captain once pointed it out to me on the chart, and I marked it afterwards; so, as we know pretty well our position just now, I think I can steer to it. Then, as to working the vessel, it is true I cannot hoist the sails single-handed, but luckily we have enough of sail set already; and if it should come on to blow a squall, I could at least drop the peaks of the main and fore sails, and clew them up partially without help, and throw her head close into the wind, so as to keep her all shaking till the violence of the squall is past. And if we have continued light breezes, I'll rig up a complication of blocks and fix them to the topsail halyards, so that I shall be able to hoist the sails without help. 'Tis true I'll require half-a-day to hoist them, but we don't need to mind that. Then I'll make a sort of erection on deck to screen you from the sun, Bill; and if you can only manage to sit beside the tiller and steer for two hours every day, so as to let me get a nap, I'll engage to let you off duty all the rest of the twenty-four hours. And if you don't feel able for steering, I'll lash the helm and heave-to while I get you your breakfasts and dinners; and so we'll manage famously, and soon reach the Coral Island." Bill smiled faintly as I ran on in this strain. "And what will you do," said he, "if it comes on to blow a storm?" This question silenced me, while I considered what I should do in such a case. At length I laid my hand on his arm and said, "Bill, when a man has done all that he can do, he ought to leave the rest to God." "Oh Ralph," said my companion in a faint voice, looking anxiously into my face, "I wish that I had the feelin's about God that you seem to have, at this hour. I'm dyin', Ralph; yet I, who have braved death a hundred times, am afraid to die. I'm afraid to enter the next world. Something within tells me there will be a reckoning when I go there. But it's all over with me, Ralph. I feel that there's no chance o' my bein' saved." "Don't say that, Bill," said I in deep compassion; "don't say that. I'm quite sure there's hope even for you, but I can't remember the words of the Bible that make me think so. Is there not a Bible on board, Bill?" "No; the last that was in the ship belonged to a poor boy that was taken aboard against his will. He died, poor lad--I think through ill-treatment and fear. After he was gone, the captain found his Bible and flung it overboard." I now reflected, with great sadness and self-reproach, on the way in which I had neglected my Bible, and it flashed across me that I was actually, in the sight of God, a greater sinner than this blood-stained pirate; for, thought I, he tells me that he never read the Bible and was never brought up to care for it, whereas I was carefully taught to read it by my own mother, and had read it daily as long as I possessed one, yet to so little purpose that I could not now call to mind a single text that would meet this poor man's case and afford him the consolation he so much required. I was much distressed, and taxed my memory for a long time. At last a text did flash into my mind, and I wondered much that I had not thought of it before. "Bill," said I in a low voice, "`Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.'" "Ay, Ralph, I've heard the missionaries say that before now; but what good can it do me? It's not for me, that; it's not for the likes o' me." I knew not now what to say, for although I felt sure that that word was for him as well as for me, I could not remember any other word whereby I could prove it. After a short pause, Bill raised his eyes to mine and said, "Ralph, I've led a terrible life. I've been a sailor since I was a boy, and I've gone from bad to worse ever since I left my father's roof. I've been a pirate three years now. It is true I did not choose the trade, but I was inveigled aboard this schooner and kept here by force till I became reckless and at last joined them. Since that time my hand has been steeped in human blood again and again. Your young heart would grow cold if I--But why should I go on? 'Tis of no use, Ralph; my doom is fixed." "Bill," said I, "`Though your sins be red like crimson, they shall be white as snow.' Only believe." "Only believe!" cried Bill, starting up on his elbow. "I've heard men talk o' believing as if it was easy. Ha! 'tis easy enough for a man to point to a rope and say, `I believe that would bear my weight;' but 'tis another thing for a man to catch hold o' that rope and swing himself by it over the edge of a precipice!" The energy with which he said this, and the action with which it was accompanied, were too much for Bill. He sank back with a deep groan. As if the very elements sympathised with this man's sufferings, a low moan came sweeping over the sea. "Hist, Ralph!" said Bill, opening his eyes; "there's a squall coming, lad! Look alive, boy! Clew up the foresail! Drop the mainsail peak! Them squalls come quick sometimes." I had already started to my feet, and saw that a heavy squall was indeed bearing down on us. It had hitherto escaped my notice, owing to my being so much engrossed by our conversation. I instantly did as Bill desired, for the schooner was lying motionless on the glassy sea. I observed with some satisfaction that the squall was bearing down on the larboard bow, so that it would strike the vessel in the position in which she would be best able to stand the shock. Having done my best to shorten sail, I returned aft, and took my stand at the helm. "Now, boy," said Bill in a faint voice, "keep her close to the wind." A few seconds afterwards he said, "Ralph, let me hear those two texts again." I repeated them. "Are ye sure, lad, ye saw them in the Bible?" "Quite sure," I replied. Almost before the words had left my lips the wind burst upon us, and the spray dashed over our decks. For a time the schooner stood it bravely, and sprang forward against the rising sea like a war-horse. Meanwhile clouds darkened the sky, and the sea began to rise in huge billows. There was still too much sail on the schooner, and as the gale increased, I feared that the masts would be torn out of her or carried away, while the wind whistled and shrieked through the strained rigging. Suddenly the wind shifted a point, a heavy sea struck us on the bow, and the schooner was almost laid on her beam-ends, so that I could scarcely keep my legs. At the same moment Bill lost his hold of the belaying-pin which had served to steady him, and he slid with stunning violence against the skylight. As he lay on the deck close beside me, I could see that the shock had rendered him insensible; but I did not dare to quit the tiller for an instant, as it required all my faculties, bodily and mental, to manage the schooner. For an hour the blast drove us along, while, owing to the sharpness of the vessel's bow and the press of canvas, she dashed through the waves instead of breasting over them, thereby drenching the decks with water fore and aft. At the end of that time the squall passed away, and left us rocking on the bosom of the agitated sea. My first care, the instant I could quit the helm, was to raise Bill from the deck and place him on the couch. I then ran below for the brandy-bottle, and rubbed his face and hands with it, and endeavoured to pour a little down his throat. But my efforts, although I continued them long and assiduously, were of no avail; as I let go the hand which I had been chafing, it fell heavily on the deck. I laid my hand over his heart, and sat for some time quite motionless; but there was no flutter there--the pirate was dead! CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT. ALONE ON THE DEEP--NECESSITY THE MOTHER OF INVENTION--A VALUABLE BOOK DISCOVERED--NATURAL PHENOMENON--A BRIGHT DAY IN MY HISTORY. It was with feelings of awe, not unmingled with fear, that I now seated myself on the cabin skylight and gazed upon the rigid features of my late comrade, while my mind wandered over his past history and contemplated with anxiety my present position. Alone in the midst of the wide Pacific, having a most imperfect knowledge of navigation, and in a schooner requiring at least eight men as her proper crew! But I will not tax the reader's patience with a minute detail of my feelings and doings during the first few days that followed the death of my companion. I will merely mention that I tied a cannon-ball to his feet, and with feelings of the deepest sorrow, consigned him to the deep. For fully a week after that a steady breeze blew from the east, and as my course lay west and by north, I made rapid progress towards my destination. I could not take an observation, which I very much regretted, as the captain's quadrant was in the cabin; but from the day of setting sail from the island of the savages I had kept a dead reckoning, and as I knew pretty well now how much leeway the schooner made, I hoped to hit the Coral Island without much difficulty. In this I was the more confident that I knew its position on the chart--which, I understood, was a very good one--and so had its correct bearings by compass. As the weather seemed now quite settled and fine, and as I had got into the trade-winds, I set about preparations for hoisting the topsails. This was a most arduous task, and my first attempts were complete failures, owing, in a great degree, to my reprehensible ignorance of mechanical forces. The first error I made was in applying my apparatus of blocks and pulleys to a rope which was too weak, so that the very first heave I made broke it in two, and sent me staggering against the after-hatch, over which I tripped, and striking against the main-boom, tumbled down the companion-ladder into the cabin. I was much bruised and somewhat stunned by this untoward accident. However, I considered it fortunate that I was not killed. In my next attempt I made sure of not coming by a similar accident, so I unreeved the tackling and fitted up larger blocks and ropes. But although the principle on which I acted was quiet correct, the machinery was now so massive and heavy that the mere friction and stiffness of the thick cordage prevented me from moving it at all. Afterwards, however, I came to proportion things more correctly; but I could not avoid reflecting at the time how much better it would have been had I learned all this from observation and study, instead of waiting till I was forced to acquire it through the painful and tedious lessons of experience. After the tackling was prepared and in good working order, it took me the greater part of a day to hoist the main topsail. As I could not steer and work at this at the same time, I lashed the helm in such a position that, with a little watching now and then, it kept the schooner in her proper course. By this means I was enabled, also, to go about the deck and down below for things that I wanted as occasion required; also to cook and eat my victuals. But I did not dare to trust to this plan during the three hours of rest that I allowed myself at night, as the wind might have shifted, in which case I should have been blown far out of my course ere I awoke. I was, therefore, in the habit of heaving-to during those three hours--that is, fixing the rudder and the sails in such a position as that, by acting against each other, they would keep the ship stationary. After my night's rest, therefore, I had only to make allowance for the leeway she had made, and so resume my course. Of course I was, to some extent, anxious lest another squall should come; but I made the best provision I could in the circumstances, and concluded that by letting go the weather-braces of the topsails and the topsail halyards at the same time, I should thereby render these sails almost powerless. Besides this, I proposed to myself to keep a sharp lookout on the barometer in the cabin; and if I observed at any time a sudden fall in it, I resolved that I would instantly set about my multiform appliances for reducing sail, so as to avoid being taken unawares. Thus I sailed prosperously for two weeks, with a fair wind, so that I calculated I must be drawing near to the Coral Island, at the thought of which my heart bounded with joyful expectation. The only book I found on board, after a careful search, was a volume of Captain Cook's voyages. This, I suppose, the pirate captain had brought with him in order to guide him, and to furnish him with information regarding the islands of these seas. I found this a most delightful book indeed; and I not only obtained much interesting knowledge about the sea in which I was sailing, but I had many of my own opinions, derived from experience, corroborated, and not a few of them corrected. Besides the reading of this charming book, and the daily routine of occupations, nothing of particular note happened to me during this voyage--except once, when on rising one night, after my three hours' nap, while it was yet dark, I was amazed and a little alarmed to find myself floating in what appeared to be a sea of blue fire! I had often noticed the beautiful appearance of phosphorescent light, but this far exceeded anything of the sort I ever saw before. The whole sea appeared somewhat like milk, and was remarkably luminous. I rose in haste, and letting down a bucket into the sea, brought some of the water on board and took it down to the cabin to examine it; but no sooner did I approach the light than the strange appearance disappeared, and when I removed the cabin lamp the luminous light appeared again. I was much puzzled with this, and took up a little of the water in the hollow of my hand and then let it run off, when I found that the luminous substance was left behind on my palm. I ran with it to the lamp, but when I got there it was gone. I found, however, that when I went into the dark my hand shone again; so I took the large glass of the ship's telescope and examined my hand minutely, when I found that there were on it one or two small patches of a clear, transparent substance like jelly, which were so thin as to be almost invisible to the naked eye. Thus I came to know that the beautiful phosphoric light, which I had so often admired before, was caused by animals; for I had no doubt that these were of the same kind as the medusa or jelly-fish, which are seen in all parts of the world. On the evening of my fourteenth day I was awakened out of a nap into which I had fallen by a loud cry, and starting up, I gazed around me. I was surprised and delighted to see a large albatross soaring majestically over the ship. I immediately took it into my head that this was the albatross I had seen at Penguin Island. I had, of course, no good reason for supposing this; but the idea occurred to me, I know not why, and I cherished it, and regarded the bird with as much affection as if he had been an old friend. He kept me company all that day, and left me as night fell. Next morning, as I stood motionless and with heavy eyes at the helm--for I had not slept well--I began to weary anxiously for daylight, and peered towards the horizon, where I thought I observed something like a black cloud against the dark sky. Being always on the alert for squalls, I ran to the bow. There could be no doubt it was a squall, and as I listened I thought I heard the murmur of the coming gale. Instantly I began to work might and main at my cumbrous tackle for shortening sail, and in the course of an hour and a half had the most of it reduced--the topsail yards down on the caps, the topsails clewed up, the sheets hauled in, the main and fore peaks lowered, and the flying-jib down. While thus engaged, the dawn advanced, and I cast an occasional furtive glance ahead in the midst of my labour. But now that things were prepared for the worst, I ran forward again and looked anxiously over the bow. I now heard the roar of the waves distinctly; and as a single ray of the rising sun gleamed over the ocean, I saw-- what! could it be that I was dreaming?--that magnificent breaker with its ceaseless roar--that mountain-top! Yes, once more I beheld the Coral Island! CHAPTER TWENTY NINE. THE EFFECT OF A CANNON-SHOT--A HAPPY REUNION OF A SOMEWHAT MOIST NATURE--RETROSPECT AND EXPLANATIONS--AN AWFUL DIVE--NEW PLANS--THE LAST OF THE CORAL ISLAND. I almost fell upon the deck with the tumult of mingled emotions that filled my heart as I gazed ardently towards my beautiful island. It was still many miles away, but sufficiently near to enable me to trace distinctly the well-remembered outlines of the two mountains. My first impulse was to utter an exclamation of gratitude for being carried to my former happy home in safety; my second, to jump up, clap my hands, shout, and run up and down the deck, with no other object in view than that of giving vent to my excited feelings. Then I went below for the telescope, and spent nearly ten minutes of the utmost impatience in vainly trying to get a focus, and in rubbing the skin nearly off my eyes, before I discovered that having taken off the large glass to examine the phosphoric water with, I had omitted to put it on again. After that I looked up impatiently at the sails, which I now regretted having lowered so hastily, and for a moment thought of hoisting the main topsail again; but recollecting that it would take me full half-a-day to accomplish, and that, at the present rate of sailing, two hours would bring me to the island, I immediately dismissed the idea. The remainder of the time I spent in making feverish preparations for arriving and seeing my dear comrades. I remembered that they were not in the habit of rising before six, and as it was now only three, I hoped to arrive before they were awake. Moreover, I set about making ready to let go the anchor, resolving in my own mind that as I knew the depth of water in the passage of the reef and within the lagoon, I would run the schooner in and bring up opposite the bower. Fortunately the anchor was hanging at the cat-head, otherwise I should never have been able to use it. Now I had only to cut the tackling, and it would drop of its own weight. After searching among the flags, I found the terrible black one, which I ran up to the peak. While I was doing this a thought struck me. I went to the powder-magazine, brought up a blank cartridge, and loaded the big brass gun, which, it will be remembered, was unhoused when we set sail; and as I had no means of housing it, there it had stood, bristling alike at fair weather and foul all the voyage. I took care to grease its mouth well, and before leaving the fore part of the ship, thrust the poker into the fire. All was now ready. A steady five-knot breeze was blowing, so that I was now not more than quarter of a mile from the reef. I was soon at the entrance; and as the schooner glided quickly through, I glanced affectionately at the huge breaker as if it had been the same one I had seen there when I bade adieu, as I feared for ever, to the island. On coming opposite the Water Garden, I put the helm hard down. The schooner came round with a rapid, graceful bend, and lost way just opposite the bower. Running forward, I let go the anchor, caught up the red-hot poker, applied it to the brass gun, and saluted the mountains with a _bang_ such as had only once before broke their slumbering echoes! Effective although it was, however, it was scarcely equal to the bang with which, instantly after, Peterkin bounded from the bower, in scanty costume, his eyeballs starting from his head with surprise and terror. One gaze he gave, one yell, and then fled into the bushes like a wild cat. The next moment Jack went through exactly the same performance, the only difference being that his movements were less like those of Jack-in-the-box, though not less vigorous and rapid than those of Peterkin. "Hallo!" I shouted, almost mad with joy. "What ho! Peterkin! Jack! hallo! it's _me_!" My shout was just in time to arrest them. They halted and turned round, and the instant I repeated the cry I saw that they recognised my voice by both of them running at full speed towards the beach. I could no longer contain myself. Throwing off my jacket, I jumped overboard at the same moment that Jack bounded into the sea. In other moment we met in deep water, clasped each other round the neck, and sank, as a matter of course, to the bottom! We were well-nigh choked, and instantly struggled to the surface, where Peterkin was spluttering about like a wounded duck, laughing and crying by turns, and choking himself with salt water! It would be impossible to convey to my reader, by description, an adequate conception of the scene that followed my landing on the beach, as we stood embracing each other indiscriminately in our dripping garments, and giving utterance to incoherent rhapsodies, mingled with wild shouts. It can be more easily imagined than described; so I will draw a curtain over this part of my history, and carry the reader forward over an interval of three days. During the greater part of that period Peterkin did nothing but roast pigs, taro, and bread-fruit, and ply me with plantains, plums, potatoes, and cocoa-nuts, while I related to him and Jack the terrible and wonderful adventures I had gone through since we last met. After I had finished the account, they made me go all over it again; and when I had concluded the second recital I had to go over it again, while they commented upon it piecemeal. They were much affected by what I told them of the probable fate of Avatea, and Peterkin could by no means brook the idea of the poor girl being converted into a _long pig_! As for Jack, he clenched his teeth, and shook his fist towards the sea, saying at the same time that he was sorry he had not broken Tararo's head, and he only hoped that one day he should be able to plant his knuckles on the bridge of that chief's nose! After they had `pumped me dry,' as Peterkin said, I begged to be informed of what had happened to them during my long absence, and particularly as to how they got out of the Diamond Cave. "Well, you must know," began Jack, "after you had dived out of the cave, on the day you were taken away from us, we waited very patiently for half-an-hour, not expecting you to return before the end of that time. Then we began to upbraid you for staying so long when you knew we would be anxious; but when an hour passed we became alarmed, and I resolved at all hazards to dive out and see what had become of you, although I felt for poor Peterkin, because, as he truly said, `If you never come back, I'm shut up here for life.' However, I promised not to run any risk, and he let me go--which, to say truth, I thought very courageous of him!" "I should just think it was," interrupted Peterkin, looking at Jack over the edge of a monstrous potato which he happened to be devouring at the time. "Well," continued Jack, "you may guess my consternation when you did not answer to my halloo. At first I imagined that the pirates must have killed you, and left you in the bush or thrown you into the sea; then it occurred to me that this would have served no end of theirs, so I came to the conclusion that they must have carried you away with them. As this thought struck me, I observed the pirate schooner standing away to the nor'ard, almost hull down on the horizon, and I sat down on the rocks to watch her as she slowly sank from my sight. And I tell you, Ralph, my boy, that I shed more tears that time at losing you than I have done, I verily believe, all my life before--" "Pardon me, Jack, for interrupting," said Peterkin; "surely you must be mistaken in that. You've often told me that when you were a baby you used to howl and roar from morning to--" "Hold your tongue, Peterkin!" cried Jack.--"Well, after the schooner had disappeared, I dived back into the cave, much to Peterkin's relief, and told him what I had seen. We sat down and had a long talk over this matter, and then we agreed to make a regular, systematic search through the woods, so as to make sure at least that you had not been killed. But now we thought of the difficulty of getting out of the cave without your help. Peterkin became dreadfully nervous when he thought of this; and I must confess I felt some alarm, for, of course, I could not hope alone to take him out so quickly as we two together had brought him in. And he himself vowed that if we had been a moment longer with him that time, he would have had to take a breath of salt water. However, there was no help for it, and I endeavoured to calm his fears as well as I could; `for,' said I, `you can't live here, Peterkin,' to which he replied, `Of course not, Jack; I can only die here, and as that's not at all desirable, you had better propose something.' So I suggested that he should take a good, long breath, and trust himself to me. "`Might we not make a large bag of cocoa-nut cloth, into which I could shove my head, and tie it tight round my neck?' he asked with a haggard smile. `It might let me get one breath under water!' "`No use,' said I; `it would fill in a moment and suffocate you. I see nothing for it, Peterkin, if you really can't keep your breath so long, but to let me knock you down, and carry you out while in a state of insensibility.' "But Peterkin didn't relish this idea. He seemed to fear that I would not be able to measure the exact force of the blow, and might, on the one hand, hit him so softly as to render a second or third blow necessary, which would be very uncomfortable; or, on the other hand, give him such a smash as would entirely spoil his figurehead, or mayhap knock the life out of him altogether! At last I got him persuaded to try to hold his breath, and commit himself to me; so he agreed, and down we went. But I had not got half-way through when he began to struggle and kick like a wild bull, burst from my grasp, and hit against the roof of the tunnel. I was therefore obliged to force him violently back into the cave again, where he, rose panting to the surface. In short, he had lost his presence of mind, and--" "Nothing of the sort!" cried Peterkin indignantly; "I only lost my wind, and if I had not had presence of mind enough to kick as I did, I should have bu'st in your arms!" "Well, well, so be it," resumed Jack with a smile.--"But the upshot of it was that we had to hold another consultation on the point; and I really believe that had it not been for a happy thought of mine, we should have been consulting there yet." "I wish we had!" again interrupted Peterkin with a sigh.--"I'm sure, Ralph, if I had thought that you were coming back again I would willingly have awaited your return for months rather than have endured the mental agony which I went through.--But proceed." "The thought was this," continued Jack--"that I should tie Peterkin's hands and feet with cords, and then lash him firmly to a stout pole about five feet long, in order to render him quite powerless and keep him straight and stiff. You should have seen his face of horror, Ralph, when I suggested this! But he came to see that it was his only chance, and told me to set about it as fast as I could; `for,' said he, `this is no jokin', Jack, _I_ can tell you, and the sooner it's done the better.' I soon procured the cordage and a suitable pole, with which I returned to the cave, and lashed him as stiff and straight as an Egyptian mummy; and, to say truth, he was no bad representation of what an English mummy would be, if there were such things, for he was as white as a dead man. "`Now,' said Peterkin in a tremulous voice, `swim with me as near to the edge of the hole as you can before you dive; then let me take a long breath; and as I sha'n't be able to speak after I've taken it, you'll watch my face, and the moment you see me wink--dive! And oh,' he added earnestly, `pray don't be long!' "I promised to pay the strictest attention to his wishes, and swam with him to the outlet of the cave. Here I paused. `Now, then,' said I, `pull away at the wind, lad.' "Peterkin drew in a breath so long that I could not help thinking of the frog in the fable, that wanted to swell itself as big as the ox. Then I looked into his face earnestly. Slap went the lid of his right eye; down went my head, and up went my heels. We shot through the passage like an arrow, and rose to the surface of the open sea before you could count twenty. "Peterkin had taken in such an awful load of wind that, on reaching the free air, he let it out with a yell loud enough to have been heard a mile off; and then the change in his feelings was so sudden and great that he did not wait till we landed, but began, tied up as he was, to shout and sing for joy as I supported him with my left arm to the shore. However, in the middle of a laugh that a hyena might have envied, I let him accidentally slip, which extinguished him in a moment. "After this happy deliverance, we immediately began our search for your dead body, Ralph; and you have no idea how low our hearts sank as we set off; day after day, to examine the valleys and mountain-sides with the utmost care. In about three weeks we completed the survey of the whole island, and had at least the satisfaction of knowing that you had not been killed. But it occurred to us that you might have been thrown into the sea; so we examined the sands and the lagoon carefully, and afterwards went all round the outer reef. One day, while we were upon the reef, Peterkin espied a small, dark object lying among the rocks, which seemed to be quite different from the surrounding stones. We hastened towards the spot, and found it to be a small keg. On knocking out the head we discovered that it was gunpowder." "It was I who sent you that, Jack," said I with a smile. "Fork out!" cried Peterkin energetically, starting to his feet and extending his open hand to Jack. "Down with the money, sir, else I'll have you shut up for life in a debtor's prison the moment we return to England!" "I'll give you an I.O.U. in the meantime," returned Jack, laughing, "so sit down and be quiet.--The fact is, Ralph, when we discovered this keg of powder Peterkin immediately took me a bet of a thousand pounds that you had something to do with it, and I took him a bet of ten thousand that you had not." "Peterkin was right, then," said I, explaining how the thing had occurred. "Well, we found it very useful," continued Jack, "although some of it had got a little damp; and we furbished up the old pistol, with which Peterkin is a crack shot now. But to continue. We did not find any other vestige of you on the reef, and finally gave up all hope of ever seeing you again. After this the island became a dreary place to us, and we began to long for a ship to heave in sight and take us off. But now that you're back again, my dear fellow, it looks as bright and cheerful as it used to do, and I love it as much as ever. "And now," continued Jack, "I have a great desire to visit some of the other islands of the South Seas. Here we have a first-rate schooner at our disposal, so I don't see what should hinder us." "Just the very thing I was going to propose!" cried Peterkin. "I vote for starting at once." "Well, then," said Jack, "it seems to me that we could not do better than shape our course for the island on which Avatea lives, and endeavour to persuade Tararo to let her marry the black fellow to whom she is engaged instead of making a `long pig' of her. If he has a spark of gratitude in him, he'll do it. Besides, having become champions for this girl once before, it behoves us, as true knights, not to rest until we set her free; at least, all the heroes in all the story-books I have ever read would count it foul disgrace to leave such a work unfinished." "I'm sure I don't know or care what your knights in story-books would do," said Peterkin; "but I'm certain that it would be capital fun, so I'm your man whenever you want me." This plan of Jack's was quite in accordance with his romantic, impulsive nature; and having made up his mind to save this black girl, he could not rest until the thing was commenced. "But there may be great danger in this attempt," he said at the end of a long consultation on the subject. "Will you, lads, go with me in spite of this?" "Go with you!" we repeated in the same breath. "Can you doubt it?" said I. "For a moment?" added Peterkin. I need scarcely say that having made up our minds to go on this enterprise, we lost no time in making preparations to quit the island; and as the schooner was well laden with stores of every kind for a long cruise, we had little to do except to add to our abundant supply a quantity of cocoa-nuts, bread-fruit, taro, yams, plums, and potatoes, chiefly with the view of carrying the fragrance of our dear island along with us as long as we could. When all was ready, we paid a farewell visit to the different familiar spots where most of our time had been spent. We ascended the mountain-top, and gazed for the last time at the rich green foliage in the valleys, the white sandy beach, the placid lagoon, and the barrier coral reef with its crested breakers. Then we descended to Spouting Cliff, and looked down at the pale-green monster which we had made such fruitless efforts to spear in days gone by. From this we hurried to the Water Garden, and took a last dive into its clear waters and a last gambol amongst its coral groves. I hurried out before my companions, and dressed in haste, in order to have a long examination of my tank, which Peterkin, in the fulness of his heart, had tended with the utmost care, as being a vivid remembrancer of me rather than out of love for natural history. It was in superb condition: the water as clear and pellucid as crystal; the red and green seaweed of the most brilliant hues; the red, purple, yellow, green, and striped anemones fully expanded, and stretching out their arms as if to welcome and embrace their former master; the starfish, zoophytes, sea-pens, and other innumerable marine insects, looking fresh and beautiful; and the crabs, as Peterkin said, looking as wide-awake, impertinent, rampant, and pugnacious as ever. It was, indeed, so lovely and so interesting that I would scarcely allow myself to be torn away from it. Last of all, we returned to the bower and collected the few articles we possessed--such as the axe, the pencil-case, the broken telescope, the penknife, the hook made from the brass ring, and the sail-needle, with which we had landed on the island; also the long boots and the pistol, besides several curious articles of costume which we had manufactured from time to time. These we conveyed on board in our little boat, after having carved our names on a chip of iron-wood, thus: JACK MARTIN RALPH ROVER PETERKIN GAY This we fixed up inside of the bower. The boat was then hoisted on board and the anchor weighed, which latter operation cost us great labour and much time, as the anchor was so heavy that we could not move it without the aid of my complex machinery of blocks and pulleys. A steady breeze was blowing off-shore when we set sail, at a little before sunset. It swept us quickly past the reef and out to sea. The shore grew rapidly more indistinct as the shades of evening fell, while our clipper bark bounded lightly over the waves. Slowly the mountain-top sank on the horizon until it became a mere speck. In another moment the sun and the Coral Island sank together into the broad bosom of the Pacific. CHAPTER THIRTY. THE VOYAGE--THE ISLAND, AND A CONSULTATION IN WHICH DANGER IS SCOUTED AS A THING UNWORTHY OF CONSIDERATION--RATS AND CATS--THE NATIVE TEACHER-- AWFUL REVELATIONS--WONDERFUL EFFECTS OF CHRISTIANITY. Our voyage during the next two weeks was most interesting and prosperous. The breeze continued generally fair, and at all times enabled us to lie our course; for being, as I have said before, clipper-built, the pirate schooner could lie very close to the wind and make little leeway. We had no difficulty now in managing our sails, for Jack was heavy and powerful, while Peterkin was active as a kitten. Still, however, we were a very insufficient crew for such a vessel; and if any one had proposed to us to make such a voyage in it before we had been forced to go through so many hardships from necessity, we would have turned away with pity from the individual making such proposal as from a madman. I pondered this a good deal, and at last concluded that men do not know how much they are capable of doing till they try, and that we should never give way to despair in any undertaking, however difficult it may seem--always supposing, however, that our cause is a good one, and that we can ask the Divine blessing on it. Although, therefore, we could now manage our sails easily, we nevertheless found that my pulleys were of much service to us in some things, though Jack did laugh heartily at the uncouth arrangement of ropes and blocks, which had, to a sailor's eye, a very lumbering and clumsy appearance. But I will not drag my reader through the details of this voyage. Suffice it to say that, after an agreeable sail of about three weeks, we arrived off the island of Mango, which I recognised at once from the description that the pirate Bill had given me of it during one of our conversations. As soon as we came within sight of it, we hove the ship to and held a council of war. "Now, boys," said Jack as we seated ourselves beside him on the cabin skylight, "before we go further in this business we must go over the pros and cons of it; for although you have so generously consented to stick by me through thick and thin, it would be unfair did I not see that you thoroughly understand the danger of what we are about to attempt." "Oh, bother the danger!" cried Peterkin. "I wonder to hear you, Jack, talk of danger! When a fellow begins to talk about it, he'll soon come to magnify it to such a degree that he'll not be fit to face it when it comes--no more than a suckin' baby." "Nay, Peterkin," replied Jack gravely, "I won't be jested out of it. I grant you that when we've once resolved to act, and have made up our minds what to do, we should think no more of danger. But before we have so resolved, it behoves us to look it straight in the face, and examine into it, and walk round it; for if we flinch at a distant view, we're sure to run away when the danger is near.--Now, I understand from you, Ralph, that the island is inhabited by thorough-going, out-and-out cannibals, whose principal law is, `Might is right, and the weakest goes to the wall?'" "Yes," said I; "so Bill gave me to understand. He told me, however, that at the southern side of it the missionaries had obtained a footing amongst an insignificant tribe. A native teacher had been sent there by the Wesleyans, who had succeeded in persuading the chief at that part to embrace Christianity. But instead of that being of any advantage to our enterprise, it seems the very reverse; for the chief Tararo is a determined heathen, and persecutes the Christians--who are far too weak in numbers to offer any resistance--and looks with dislike upon all white men, whom he regards as propagators of the new faith." "'Tis a pity," said Jack, "that the Christian tribe is so small, for we shall scarcely be safe under their protection, I fear. If Tararo takes it into his head to wish for our vessel, or to kill ourselves, he could take us from them by force. You say that the native missionary talks English?" "So I believe." "Then, what I propose is this," said Jack. "We will run round to the south side of the island, and cast anchor off the Christian village. We are too far away just now to have been descried by any of the savages, so we shall get there unobserved, and have time to arrange our plans before the heathen tribes know of our presence. But in doing this we run the risk of being captured by the ill-disposed tribes, and being very ill-used, if not--a--" "Roasted alive and eaten!" cried Peterkin. "Come, out with it, Jack! According to your own showing, it's well to look the danger straight in the face." "Well, that _is_ the worst of it, certainly. Are you prepared, then, to take your chance of that?" "I've been prepared and had my mind made up long ago," cried Peterkin, swaggering about the deck with his hands thrust into his breeches pockets. "The fact is, Jack, I don't believe that Tararo will be so ungrateful as to eat us, and I'm quite sure that he'll be too happy to grant us whatever we ask; so the sooner we go in and win the better." Peterkin was wrong, however, in his estimate of savage gratitude, as the sequel will show. The schooner was now put before the wind, and after making a long run to the southward, we put about and beat up for the south side of Mango, where we arrived before sunset, and hove-to off the coral reef. Here we awaited the arrival of a canoe, which immediately put off on our rounding-to. When it arrived, a mild-looking native, of apparently forty years of age, came on board, and taking off his straw hat, made us a low bow. He was clad in a respectable suit of European clothes; and the first words he uttered, as he stepped up to Jack and shook hands with him, were: "Good-day, gentlemen. We are happy to see you at Mango. You are heartily welcome." After returning his salutation, Jack exclaimed, "You must be the native missionary teacher of whom I have heard--are you not?" "I am. I have the joy to be a servant of the Lord Jesus at this station." "You're the very man I want to see, then," replied Jack; "that's lucky. Come down to the cabin, friend, and have a glass of wine. I wish particularly to speak with you. My men there"--pointing to Peterkin and me--"will look after your people." "Thank you," said the teacher as he followed Jack to the cabin; "I do not drink wine or any strong drink." "Oh! then there's lots of water, and you can have biscuit." "Now, 'pon my word, that's cool!" said Peterkin; "his _men_, forsooth! Well, since we are to be men, we may as well come it as strong over these black chaps as we can.--Hallo, there!" he cried to the half-dozen of natives who stood upon the deck, gazing in wonder at all they saw, "here's for you;" and he handed them a tray of broken biscuit and a can of water. Then thrusting his hands into his pockets, he walked up and down the deck with an enormous swagger, whistling vociferously. In about half-an-hour Jack and the teacher came on deck, and the latter, bidding us a cheerful good-evening, entered his canoe and paddled to the shore. When he was gone, Peterkin stepped up to Jack, and touching his cap, said: "Well, captain, have you any communications to make to your _men_?" "Yes," cried Jack: "ready about, mind the helm, and clew up your tongue, while I con the schooner through the passage in the reef. The teacher, who seems a first-rate fellow, says it's quite deep, and good anchorage within the lagoon close to the shore." While the vessel was slowly advancing to her anchorage, under a light breeze, Jack explained to us that Avatea was still on the island, living amongst the heathens; that she had expressed a strong desire to join the Christians; but Tararo would not let her, and kept her constantly in close confinement. "Moreover," continued Jack, "I find that she belongs to one of the Samoan Islands, where Christianity had been introduced long before her capture by the heathens of a neighbouring island; and the very day after she was taken she was to have joined the church which had been planted there by that excellent body, the London Missionary Society. The teacher tells me, too, that the poor girl has fallen in love with a Christian chief, who lives on an island some fifty miles or so to the south of this one, and that she is meditating a desperate attempt at escape. So, you see, we have come in the nick of time.--I fancy that this chief is the fellow whom you heard of, Ralph, at the island of Emo.--Besides all this, the heathen savages are at war among themselves, and there's to be a battle fought the day after to-morrow, in which the principal leader is Tararo; so that we'll not be able to commence our negotiations with the rascally chief till the day after." The village off which we anchored was beautifully situated at the head of a small bay, from the margin of which trees of every description peculiar to the tropics rose in the richest luxuriance to the summit of a hilly ridge, which was the line of demarcation between the possessions of the Christians and those of the neighbouring heathen chief. The site of the settlement was an extensive plot of flat land, stretching in a gentle slope from the sea to the mountain. The cottages stood several hundred yards from the beach, and were protected from the glare of the sea by the rich foliage of rows of large Barringtonia and other trees which girt the shore. The village was about a mile in length, and perfectly straight, with a wide road down the middle, on either side of which were rows of the tufted-topped ti-tree, whose delicate and beautiful blossoms, hanging beneath their plume-crested tops, added richness to the scene. The cottages of the natives were built beneath these trees, and were kept in the most excellent order, each having a little garden in front, tastefully laid out and planted, while the walks were covered with black and white pebbles. Every house had doors and Venetian windows, painted partly with lamp-black made from the candle-nut, and partly with red ochre, which contrasted powerfully with the dazzling coral lime that covered the walls. On a prominent position stood a handsome church, which was quite a curiosity in its way. It was a hundred feet long by fifty broad, and was seated throughout to accommodate upwards of two thousand persons. It had six large folding-doors, and twelve windows with Venetian blinds; and although a large and substantial edifice, it had been built, we were told by the teacher: in the space of two months! There was not a single iron nail in the fabric, and the natives had constructed it chiefly with their stone and bone axes and other tools, having only one or two axes or tools of European manufacture. Everything around this beautiful spot wore an aspect of peace and plenty; and as we dropped our anchor within a stone's-cast of the substantial coral wharf, I could not avoid contrasting it with the wretched village of Emo, where I had witnessed so many frightful scenes. When the teacher afterwards told me that the people of this tribe had become converts only a year previous to our arrival, and that they had been living before that in the practice of the most bloody system of idolatry, I could not refrain from exclaiming, "What a convincing proof that Christianity is of God!" On landing from our little boat we were received with a warm welcome by the teacher and his wife, the latter being also a native, clothed in a simple European gown and a straw bonnet. The shore was lined with hundreds of natives, whose persons were all more or less clothed with native cloth. Some of the men had on a kind of poncho formed of this cloth, their legs being uncovered; others wore clumsily fashioned trousers, and no upper garment except hats made of straw and cloth. Many of the dresses, both of women and men, were grotesque enough, being very bad imitations of the European garb; but all wore a dress of some sort or other. They seemed very glad to see us, and crowded round us as the teacher led the way to his dwelling, where we were entertained, in the most sumptuous manner, on baked pig and all the varieties of fruits and vegetables that the island produced. We were much annoyed, however, by the rats: they seemed to run about the house like domestic animals. As we sat at table, one of them peeped up at us over the edge of the cloth, close to Peterkin's elbow, who floored it with a blow on the snout from his knife, exclaiming as he did so: "I say, Mister Teacher, why don't you set traps for these brutes? Surely you are not fond of them!" "No," replied the teacher with a smile. "We would be glad to get rid of them if we could; but if we were to trap all the rats on the island, it would occupy our whole time." "Are they, then, so numerous?" inquired Jack. "They swarm everywhere. The poor heathens on the north side eat them, and think them very sweet. So did my people formerly; but they do not eat so many now, because the missionary who was last here expressed disgust at it. The poor people asked if it was wrong to eat rats; and he told them that it was certainly not wrong, but that the people of England would be much disgusted were they asked to eat rats." We had not been an hour in the house of this kind-hearted man when we were convinced of the truth of his statement as to their numbers; for the rats ran about the floors in dozens, and during our meal two men were stationed at the table to keep them off! "What a pity you have no cats!" said Peterkin; and he aimed a blow at another reckless intruder, and missed it. "We would indeed be glad to have a few," rejoined the teacher, "but they are difficult to be got. The hogs, we find, are very good rat-killers; but they do not seem to be able to keep the numbers down. I have heard that they are better than cats." As the teacher said this, his good-natured black face was wrinkled with a smile of merriment. Observing that I had noticed it, he said: "I smiled just now when I remembered the fate of the first cat that was taken to Rarotonga. This is one of the stations of the London Missionary Society. It, like our own, is infested with rats, and a cat was brought at last to the island. It was a large black one. On being turned loose, instead of being content to stay among men, the cat took to the mountains and lived in a wild state, sometimes paying visits during the night to the houses of the natives; some of whom, living at a distance from the settlement, had not heard of the cat's arrival, and were dreadfully frightened in consequence, calling it a `monster of the deep,' and flying in terror away from it. One night the cat--feeling a desire for company, I suppose--took its way to the house of a chief who had recently been converted to Christianity, and had begun to learn to read and pray. The chief's wife, who was sitting awake at his side while he slept, beheld with horror two fires glistening in the doorway, and heard with surprise a mysterious voice. Almost petrified with fear, she awoke her husband, and began to upbraid him for forsaking his old religion and burning his god, who, she declared, was now come to be avenged of them. `Get up and pray! get up and pray!' she cried. The chief arose, and on opening his eyes, beheld the same glaring lights and heard the same ominous sound. Impelled by the extreme urgency of the case, he commenced, with all possible vehemence, to vociferate the alphabet, as a prayer to God to deliver them from the vengeance of Satan! On hearing this, the cat, as much alarmed as themselves, fled precipitately away, leaving the chief and his wife congratulating themselves on the efficacy of their prayer." We were much diverted with this anecdote, which the teacher related in English so good that we certainly could not have supposed him a native but for the colour of his face and the foreign accent in his tone. Next day we walked out with this interesting man, and were much entertained and instructed by his conversation as we rambled through the cool, shady groves of bananas, citrons, limes, and other trees, or sauntered among the cottages of the natives, and watched them while they laboured diligently in the taro-beds or manufactured the tapa, or native cloth. To some of these Jack put questions, through the medium of the missionary; and the replies were such as to surprise us at the extent of their knowledge. Indeed, Peterkin very truly remarked that "they seemed to know a considerable deal more than Jack himself!" Among other pieces of interesting information that we obtained was the following, in regard to coral formations: "The islands of the Pacific," said our friend, "are of three different kinds or classes. Those of the first class are volcanic, mountainous, and wild--some shooting their jagged peaks into the clouds at an elevation of ten and fifteen thousand feet. Those of the second class are of crystallised limestone, and vary in height from one hundred to five hundred feet. The hills on these are not so wild or broken as those of the first class, but are richly clothed with vegetation, and very beautiful. I have no doubt that the Coral Island on which you were wrecked was one of this class. They are supposed to have been upheaved from the bottom of the sea by volcanic agency; but they are not themselves volcanic in their nature, neither are they of coral formation. Those of the third class are the low coralline islands, usually having lagoons of water in their midst. They are very numerous. "As to the manner in which coral islands and reefs are formed, there are various opinions on this point. I will give you what seems to me the most probable theory--a theory, I may add, which is held by some of the good and scientific missionaries. It is well known that there is much lime in salt water; it is also known that coral is composed of lime. It is supposed that the polypes, or coral insects, have the power of attracting this lime to their bodies, and with this material they build their little cells or habitations. They choose the summit of a volcano, or the top of a submarine mountain, as a foundation on which to build, for it is found that they never work at any great depth below the surface. On this they work. The polypes on the mountain-top, of course, reach the surface first; then those at the outer edges reach the top sooner than the others between them and the centre, thus forming the coral reef surrounding the lagoon of water and the central island. After that, the insects within the lagoon cease working. When the surface of the water is reached, these myriads of wonderful creatures die. Then birds visit the spot, and seeds are thus conveyed thither, which take root and spring up and flourish. Thus are commenced those coralline islets of which you have seen so many in these seas. The reefs round the large islands are formed in a similar manner. When we consider," added the missionary, "the smallness of the architects used by our heavenly Father in order to form those lovely and innumerable islands, we are filled with much of that feeling which induced the ancient king to exclaim, `How manifold, O Lord, are Thy works! in wisdom hast Thou made them all.'" We all heartily agreed with the missionary in this sentiment, and felt not a little gratified to find that the opinions which Jack and I had been led to form, from personal observation on our Coral Island, were thus to a great extent corroborated. The missionary also gave us an account of the manner in which Christianity had been introduced among them. He said: "When missionaries were first sent here, three years ago, a small vessel brought them; and the chief, who is now dead, promised to treat well the two native teachers who were left with their wives on the island. But scarcely had the boat which landed them returned to the ship than the natives began to maltreat their guests, taking away all they possessed, and offering them further violence, so that when the boat was sent in haste to fetch them away, the clothes of both men and women were torn nearly off their backs. "Two years after this the vessel visited them again, and I, being in her, volunteered to land alone, without any goods whatever, begging that my wife might be brought to me the following year--that is, _this_ year; and, as you see, she is with me. But the surf was so high that the boat could not land me; so with nothing on but my trousers and shirt, and with a few catechisms and a Bible, besides some portions of the Scripture translated into the Mango tongue, I sprang into the sea, and swam ashore on the crest of a breaker. I was instantly dragged up the beach by the natives; who, on finding I had nothing worth having upon me, let me alone. I then made signs to my friends in the ship to leave me, which they did. At first the natives listened to me in silence, but laughed at what I said while I preached the Gospel of our blessed Saviour Jesus Christ to them. Afterwards they treated me ill, sometimes; but I persevered, and continued to dwell among them, and dispute, and exhort them to give up their sinful ways of life, burn their idols, and come to Jesus. "About a month after I landed, I heard that the chief was dead. He was the father of the present chief, who is now a most consistent member of the Church. It is a custom here that when a chief dies his wives are strangled and buried with him. Knowing this, I hastened to his house to endeavour to prevent such cruelty if possible. When I arrived, I found two of the wives had already been killed, while another was in the act of being strangled. I pleaded hard for her, but it was too late; she was already dead. I then entreated the son to spare the fourth wife, and after much hesitation, my prayer was granted; but in half-an-hour afterwards this poor woman repented of being unfaithful, as she termed it, to her husband, and insisted on being strangled, which was accordingly done. "All this time the chief's son was walking up and down before his father's house with a brow black as thunder. When he entered I went in with him, and found, to my surprise, that his father was _not_ dead! The old man was sitting on a mat in a corner, with an expression of placid resignation on his face. "`Why,' said I, `have you strangled your father's wives before he is dead?' "To this the son replied, `He is dead. That is no longer my father. He is as good as dead now. He is to be _buried alive_.' "I now remembered having heard that it is a custom among the Feejee Islanders that when the reigning chief grows old and infirm, the heir to the chieftainship has a right to depose his father, in which case he is considered as dead, and is buried alive. The young chief was now about to follow this custom, and despite my earnest entreaties and pleadings, the old chief was buried that day before my eyes in the same grave with his four strangled wives! Oh, my heart groaned when I saw this! and I prayed to God to open the hearts of these poor creatures, as He had already opened mine, and pour into them the light and the love of the Gospel of Jesus. My prayer was answered very soon. A week afterwards the son, who was now chief of the tribe, came to me, bearing his god on his shoulders, and groaning beneath its weight. Flinging it down at my feet, he desired me to burn it! "You may conceive how overjoyed I was at this. I sprang up and embraced him, while I shed tears of joy. Then we made a fire and burned the god to ashes, amid an immense concourse of the people, who seemed terrified at what was being done, and shrank back when we burned the god, expecting some signal vengeance to be taken upon us; but seeing that nothing happened, they changed their minds, and thought that our God must be the true one after all. From that time the mission prospered steadily; and now, while there is not a single man in the tribe who has not burned his household gods and become a convert to Christianity, there are not a few, I hope, who are true followers of the Lamb, having been plucked as brands from the burning by Him who can save unto the uttermost. I will not tell you more of our progress at this time; but you see," he said, waving his hand around him, "the village, and the church did not exist a year ago!" We were indeed much interested in this account, and I could not help again in my heart praying to God to prosper those missionary societies that send such inestimable blessings to these islands of dark and bloody idolatry. The teacher also added that the other tribes were very indignant at this one for having burned its gods, and threatened to destroy it altogether; but they had done nothing yet. "And if they should," said the teacher, "the Lord is on our side; of whom shall we be afraid?" "Have the missionaries many stations in these seas?" inquired Jack. "Oh yes. The London Missionary Society have a great many in the Tahiti group, and other islands in that quarter. Then the Wesleyans have the Feejee Islands all to themselves, and the Americans have many stations in other groups. But still, my friend, there are hundreds of islands here, the natives of which have never heard of Jesus, or the good word of God, or the Holy Spirit; and thousands are living and dying in the practice of those terrible sins and bloody murders of which you have already heard.--I trust, my friends," he added, looking earnestly into our faces--"I trust that if you ever return to England, you will tell your Christian friends that the horrors which they hear of in regard to these islands are _literally true_, and that when they have heard the worst, the `_half has not been told them_;' for there are perpetrated here foul deeds of darkness of which man may not speak. You may also tell them," he said, looking around with a smile, while a tear of gratitude trembled in his eye and rolled down his coal-black cheek--"tell them of the blessings that the Gospel has wrought _here_!" We assured our friend that we would certainly not forget his request. On returning towards the village, about noon, we remarked on the beautiful whiteness of the cottages. "That is owing to the lime with which they are plastered," said the teacher. "When the natives were converted, as I have described, I set them to work to build cottages for themselves, and also this handsome church which you see. When the framework and other parts of the house were up, I sent the people to fetch coral from the sea. They brought immense quantities. Then I made them cut wood, and piling the coral above it, set it on fire. "`Look! look!' cried the poor people in amazement; `what wonderful people the Christians are! He is roasting stones! We shall not need taro or bread-fruit any more; we may eat stones!' "But their surprise was still greater when the coral was reduced to a fine, soft, white powder. They immediately set up a great shout, and mingling the lime with water, rubbed their faces and their bodies all over with it, and ran through the village screaming with delight. They were also much surprised at another thing they saw me do. I wished to make some household furniture, and constructed a turning-lathe to assist me. The first thing that I turned was the leg of a sofa, which was no sooner finished than the chief seized it with wonder and delight, and ran through the village exhibiting it to the people, who looked upon it with great admiration. The chief then, tying a string to it, hung it round his neck as an ornament! He afterwards told me that if he had seen it before he became a Christian, he would have made it his god!" As the teacher concluded this anecdote we reached his door. Saying that he had business to attend to, he left us to amuse ourselves as we best could. "Now, lads," said Jack, turning abruptly towards us, and buttoning up his jacket as he spoke, "I'm off to see the battle. I've no particular fondness for seein' bloodshed; but I must find out the nature o' these fellows and see their customs with my own eyes, so that I may be able to speak of it again, if need be, authoritatively. It's only six miles off, and we don't run much more risk than that of getting a rap with a stray stone or an overshot arrow. Will you go?" "To be sure we will," said Peterkin. "If they chance to see us, we'll cut and run for it," added Jack. "Dear me!" cried Peterkin; "_you_ run! I thought you would scorn to run from any one." "So I would, if it were my duty to fight," returned Jack coolly; "but as I don't want to fight, and don't intend to fight, if they offer to attack us I'll run away, like the veriest coward that ever went by the name of Peterkin. So come along." CHAPTER THIRTY ONE. A STRANGE AND BLOODY BATTLE--THE LION BEARDED IN HIS DEN--FRIGHTFUL SCENES OF CRUELTY, AND FEARS FOR THE FUTURE. We had ascertained from the teacher the direction to the spot on which the battle was to be fought, and after a walk of two hours, reached it. The summit of a bare hill was the place chosen; for, unlike most of the other islanders, who are addicted to bush-fighting, those of Mango are in the habit of meeting on open ground. We arrived before the two parties had commenced the deadly struggle, and creeping as close up as we dared among the rocks, we lay and watched them. The combatants were drawn up face to face, each side ranged in rank four deep. Those in the first row were armed with long spears; the second with clubs to defend the spearmen; the third row was composed of young men with slings; and the fourth consisted of women, who carried baskets of stones for the slingers, and clubs and spears with which to supply the warriors. Soon after we arrived, the attack was made with great fury. There was no science displayed. The two bodies of savages rushed headlong upon each other and engaged in a general melee, and a more dreadful set of men I have never seen. They wore grotesque war-caps, made of various substances and decorated with feathers. Their faces and bodies were painted so as to make them look as frightful as possible; and as they brandished their massive clubs, leaped, shouted, yelled, and dashed each other to the ground, I thought I had never seen men look so like demons before. We were much surprised at the conduct of the women, who seemed to be perfect furies, and hung about the heels of their husbands in order to defend them. One stout young woman we saw, whose husband was hard pressed and about to be overcome: she lifted a large stone, and throwing it at his opponent's head, felled him to the earth. But the battle did not last long. The band most distant from us gave way and were routed, leaving eighteen of their comrades dead upon the field. These the victors brained as they lay; and putting some of their brains on leaves, went off with them, we were afterwards informed, to their temples to present them to their gods as an earnest of the human victims who were soon to be brought there. We hastened back to the Christian village with feelings of the deepest sadness at the sanguinary conflict which we had just witnessed. Next day, after breakfasting with our friend the teacher, we made preparations for carrying out our plan. At first the teacher endeavoured to dissuade us. "You do not know," said he, turning to Jack, "the danger you run in venturing amongst these ferocious savages. I feel much pity for poor Avatea; but you are not likely to succeed in saving her, and you may die in the attempt." "Well," said Jack quietly, "I am not afraid to die in a good cause." The teacher smiled approvingly at him as he said this, and after a little further conversation, agreed to accompany us as interpreter-- saying that although Tararo was unfriendly to him, he had hitherto treated him with respect. We now went on board the schooner, having resolved to sail round the island and drop anchor opposite the heathen village. We manned her with natives, and hoped to overawe the savages by displaying our brass gun to advantage. The teacher soon after came on board, and setting our sails, we put to sea. In two hours more we made the cliffs reverberate with the crash of the big gun, which we fired by way of salute, while we ran the British ensign up to the peak and cast anchor. The commotion on shore showed us that we had struck terror into the hearts of the natives; but seeing that we did not offer to molest them, a canoe at length put off and paddled cautiously towards us. The teacher showed himself, and explaining that we were friends and wished to palaver with the chief, desired the native to go and tell him to come on board. We waited long and with much impatience for an answer. During this time the native teacher conversed with us again, and told us many things concerning the success of the Gospel among those islands; and perceiving that we were by no means so much gratified as we ought to have been at the hearing of such good news, he pressed us more closely in regard to our personal interest in religion, and exhorted us to consider that our souls were certainly in as great danger as those of the wretched heathen whom we pitied so much if we had not already found salvation in Jesus Christ. "Nay, further," he added, "if such be your unhappy case, you are, in the sight of God, much worse than these savages--forgive me, my young friends, for saying so--for they have no knowledge, no light, and do not profess to believe; while you, on the contrary, have been brought up in the light of the blessed Gospel and call yourselves Christians. These poor savages are indeed the enemies of our Lord; but you, if ye be not true believers, are traitors!" I must confess that my heart condemned me while the teacher spoke in this earnest manner, and I knew not what to reply. Peterkin, too, did not seem to like it, and, I thought, would willingly have escaped. But Jack seemed deeply impressed, and wore an anxious expression on his naturally grave countenance, while he assented to the teacher's remarks, and put to him many earnest questions. Meanwhile the natives who composed our crew, having nothing particular to do, had squatted down on the deck and taken out their little books containing the translated portions of the New Testament, along with hymns and spelling-books, and were now busily engaged--some vociferating the alphabet, others learning prayers off by heart, while a few sang hymns--all of them being utterly unmindful of our presence. The teacher soon joined them, and soon afterwards they all engaged in a prayer, which was afterwards translated to us, and proved to be a petition for the success of our undertaking and for the conversion of the heathen. While we were thus engaged a canoe put off from shore, and several savages leaped on deck, one of whom advanced to the teacher and informed him that Tararo could not come on board that day, being busy with some religious ceremonies before the gods, which could on no account be postponed. He was also engaged with a friendly chief, who was about to take his departure from the island, and therefore begged that the teacher and his friends would land and pay a visit to him. To this the teacher returned answer that we would land immediately. "Now, lads," said Jack as we were about to step into our little boat, "I'm not going to take any weapons with me, and I recommend you to take none either. We are altogether in the power of these savages; and the utmost we could do, if they were to attack us, would be to kill a few of them before we were ourselves overpowered. I think that our only chance of success lies in mild measures. Don't you think so?" To this I assented gladly; and Peterkin replied by laying down a huge bell-mouthed blunderbuss, and divesting himself of a pair of enormous horse-pistols, with which he had purposed to overawe the natives! We then jumped into our boat and rowed ashore. On reaching the beach we were received by a crowd of naked savages, who shouted a rude welcome, and conducted us to a house or shed where a baked pig and a variety of vegetables were prepared for us. Having partaken of these, the teacher begged to be conducted to the chief; but there seemed some hesitation, and after some consultation among themselves, one of the men stood forward and spoke to the teacher. "What says he?" inquired Jack when the savage had concluded. "He says that the chief is just going to the temple of his god, and cannot see us yet; so we must be patient, my friend." "Well," cried Jack, rising, "if he won't come to see me, I'll e'en go and see him. Besides, I have a great desire to witness their proceedings at this temple of theirs. Will you go with me, friend?" "I cannot," said the teacher, shaking his head. "I must not go to the heathen temples and witness their inhuman rites, except for the purpose of condemning their wickedness and folly." "Very good," returned Jack; "then I'll go alone, for I cannot condemn their doings till I have seen them." Jack arose, and we, having determined to go also, followed him through the banana-groves to a rising ground immediately behind the village, on the top of which stood the Bure, or temple, under the dark shade of a group of iron-wood trees. As we went through the village I was again led to contrast the rude huts and sheds, and their almost naked, savage-looking inhabitants, with the natives of the Christian village, who, to use the teacher's scriptural expression, were now "clothed and in their right mind." As we turned into a broad path leading towards the hill, we were arrested by the shouts of an approaching multitude in the rear. Drawing aside into the bushes, we awaited their coming up; and as they drew near, we observed that it was a procession of the natives, many of whom were dancing and gesticulating in the most frantic manner. They had an exceedingly hideous aspect, owing to the black, red, and yellow paints with which their faces and naked bodies were bedaubed. In the midst of these came a band of men carrying three or four planks, on which were seated, in rows, upwards of a dozen men. I shuddered involuntarily as I recollected the sacrifice of human victims at the island of Emo, and turned with a look of fear to Jack as I said: "Oh Jack! I have a terrible dread that they are going to commit some of their cruel practices on these wretched men. We had better not go to the temple. We shall only be horrified without being able to do any good, for I fear they are going to kill them." Jack's face wore an expression of deep compassion as he said in a low voice, "No fear, Ralph; the sufferings of these poor fellows are over long ago." I turned with a start as he spoke, and glancing at the men, who were now quite near to the spot where we stood, saw that they were all dead. They were tied firmly with ropes in a sitting posture on the planks, and seemed, as they bent their sightless eyeballs and grinning mouths over the dancing crew below, as if they were laughing in ghastly mockery at the utter inability of their enemies to hurt them now. These, we discovered afterwards, were the men who had been slain in the battle of the previous day, and were now on their way to be first presented to the gods and then eaten. Behind these came two men leading between them a third, whose hands were pinioned behind his back. He walked with a firm step, and wore a look of utter indifference on his face as they led him along, so that we concluded he must be a criminal who was about to receive some slight punishment for his faults. The rear of the procession was brought up by a shouting crowd of women and children, with whom we mingled and followed to the temple. Here we arrived in a few minutes. The temple was a tall, circular building, open at one side. Around it were strewn heaps of human bones and skulls. At a table inside sat the priest, an elderly man with a long grey beard. He was seated on a stool, and before him lay several knives, made of wood, bone, and splinters of bamboo, with which he performed his office of dissecting dead bodies. Farther in lay a variety of articles that had been dedicated to the god, and among them were many spears and clubs. I observed among the latter some with human teeth sticking in them, where the victims had been clubbed in their mouths. Before this temple the bodies, which were painted with vermilion and soot, were arranged in a sitting posture; and a man called a "dan-vosa" (orator) advanced, and laying his hands on their heads, began to chide them, apparently, in a low, bantering tone. What he said we knew not, but as he went on he waxed warm, and at last shouted to them at the top of his lungs, and finally finished by kicking the bodies over and running away, amid the shouts and laughter of the people, who now rushed forward. Seizing the bodies by a leg or an arm, or by the hair of the head, they dragged them over stumps and stones and through sloughs until they were exhausted. The bodies were then brought back to the temple and dissected by the priest, after which they were taken out to be baked. Close to the temple a large fire was kindled, in which stones were heated red hot. When ready these were spread out on the ground, and a thick coating of leaves strewn over them to slack the heat. On this "lovo," or oven, the bodies were then placed, covered over, and left to bake. The crowd now ran with terrible yells towards a neighbouring hill or mound, on which we observed the framework of a house lying ready to be erected. Sick with horror, yet fascinated by curiosity, we staggered after them mechanically, scarce knowing where we were going or what we did, and feeling a sort of impression that all we saw was a dreadful dream. Arrived at the place, we saw the multitude crowding round a certain spot. We pressed forward, and obtained a sight of what they were doing. A large wooden beam or post lay on the ground, beside the other parts of the framework of the house, and close to the end of it was a hole about seven feet deep and upwards of two feet wide. While we looked, the man whom we had before observed with his hands pinioned was carried into the circle. His hands were now free, but his legs were tightly strapped together. The post of the house was then placed in the hole, and the man put in beside it. His head was a good way below the surface of the hole, and his arms were clasped round the post. Earth was now thrown in until all was covered over and stamped down; and this, we were afterwards told, was a ceremony usually performed at the dedication of a new temple or the erection of a chief's house! "Come, come," cried Jack on beholding this horrible tragedy; "we have seen enough, enough--far more than enough! Let us go." Jack's face looked ghastly pale and haggard as we hurried back to rejoin the teacher; and I have no doubt that he felt terrible anxiety when he considered the number and ferocity of the savages, and the weakness of the few arms which were ready indeed to essay, but impotent to effect, Avatea's deliverance from these ruthless men. CHAPTER THIRTY TWO. AN UNEXPECTED DISCOVERY, AND A BOLD, RECKLESS DEFIANCE, WITH ITS CONSEQUENCES--PLANS OF ESCAPE, AND HEROIC RESOLVES. When we returned to the shore and related to our friend what had passed, he was greatly distressed, and groaned in spirit; but we had not sat long in conversation when we were interrupted by the arrival of Tararo on the beach, accompanied by a number of followers bearing baskets of vegetables and fruits on their heads. We advanced to meet him, and he expressed, through our interpreter, much pleasure in seeing us. "And what, is it that my friends wish to say to me?" he inquired. The teacher explained that we came to beg that Avatea might be spared. "Tell him," said Jack, "that I consider that I have a right to ask this of him, having not only saved the girl's life, but the lives of his own people also; and say that I wish her to be allowed to follow her own wishes, and join the Christians." While this was being translated the chief's brow lowered, and we could see plainly that our request met with no favourable reception. He replied with considerable energy and at some length. "What says he?" inquired Jack. "I regret to say that he will not listen to the proposal. He says he has pledged his word to his friend that the girl shall be sent to him, and a deputy even now on this island awaiting the fulfilment of the pledge." Jack bit his lip in suppressed anger. "Tell Tararo," he exclaimed with a flashing eye, "that if he does not grant my demand it will be worse for him. Say I have a big gun on board my schooner that will blow his village into the sea if he does not give up the girl." "Nay, my friend," said the teacher gently, "I will not tell him that. We must `overcome evil with good.'" "What does my friend say?" inquired the chief, who seemed nettled by Jack's looks of defiance. "He is displeased," replied the teacher. Tararo turned away with a smile of contempt, and walked towards the men who carried the baskets of vegetables, and who had now emptied the whole on the beach in an enormous pile. "What are they doing there?" I inquired. "I think that they are laying out a gift which they intend to present to some one," said the teacher. At this moment a couple of men appeared, leading a young girl between them, and going towards the heap of fruits and vegetables, placed her on top of it. We started with surprise and fear, for in the young female before us we recognised the Samoan girl, Avatea. We stood rooted to the earth with surprise and thick-coming fears. "Oh my dear young friend!" whispered the teacher in a voice of deep emotion; while he seized Jack by the arm, "she is to be made a sacrifice even now!" "Is she?" cried Jack with a vehement shout, spurning the teacher aside, and dashing over two natives who stood in his way, while he rushed towards the heap, sprang up its side, and seized Avatea by the arm. In another moment he dragged her down, placed her back to a large tree, and wrenching a war-club from the hand of a native who seemed powerless and petrified with surprise, whirled it above his head, and yelled, rather than shouted, while his face blazed with fury, "Come on, the whole nation of you, an ye like it, and do your worst!" It seemed as though the challenge had been literally accepted; for every savage on the ground ran precipitately at Jack with club and spear, and doubtless would speedily have poured out his brave blood on the sod had not the teacher rushed in between them, and raising his voice to its utmost, cried: "Stay your hands, warriors! It is not your part to judge in this matter! It is for Tararo, the chief, to say whether or not the young man shall live or die!" The natives were arrested; and I know not whether it was the gratifying acknowledgment of his superiority thus made by the teacher, or some lingering feeling of gratitude for Jack's former aid in time of need, that influenced Tararo, but he stepped forward, and waving his hand, said to his people, "Desist. The young man's life is mine." Then turning to Jack, he said, "You have forfeited your liberty and life to me. Submit yourself, for we are more numerous than the sand upon the shore. You are but one: why should you die?" "Villain!" exclaimed Jack passionately. "I may die, but assuredly I shall not perish alone! I will not submit until you promise that this girl shall not be injured!" "You are very bold," replied the chief haughtily, "but very foolish. Yet I will say that Avatea shall not be sent away--at least, for three days." "You had better accept these terms," whispered the teacher entreatingly. "If you persist in this mad defiance, you will be slain and Avatea will be lost. Three days are worth having." Jack hesitated a moment, then lowered his club, and throwing it moodily to the ground, crossed his arms on his breast and hung down his head in silence. Tararo seemed pleased by his submission, and told the teacher to say that he did not forget his former services, and therefore would leave him free as to his person, but that the schooner would be detained till he had further considered the matter. While the teacher translated this, he approached as near to where Avatea was standing as possible without creating suspicion, and whispered to her a few words in the native language. Avatea, who, during the whole of the foregoing scene, had stood leaning against the tree perfectly passive, and seemingly quite uninterested in all that was going on, replied by a single rapid glance of her dark eye, which was instantly cast down again on the ground at her feet. Tararo now advanced, and taking the girl by the hand, led her unresistingly away; while Jack, Peterkin, and I returned with the teacher on board the schooner. On reaching the deck we went down to the cabin, where Jack threw himself, in a state of great dejection, on a couch; but the teacher seated himself by his side, and laying his hand upon his shoulder, said: "Do not give way to anger, my young friend. God has given us three days, and we must use the means that are in our power to free this poor girl from slavery. We must not sit in idle disappointment; we must act--" "Act!" cried Jack, raising himself and tossing back his hair wildly. "It is mockery to talk of acting when one is bound hand and foot. How can I act? I cannot fight a whole nation of savages single-handed. Yes," he said with a bitter smile, "I _can_ fight them; but I cannot conquer them, or save Avatea." "Patience, my friend: your spirit is not a good one just now. You cannot expect that blessing which alone can ensure success unless you are more submissive. I will tell you my plans if you will listen." "Listen!" cried Jack eagerly. "Of course I will, my good fellow! I did not know you had any plans. Out with them! I only hope you will show me how I can get the girl on board of this schooner, and I'd up anchor and away in no time. But proceed with your plans." The teacher smiled sadly. "Ah, my friend, if one fathom of your anchor-chain were to rattle as you drew it in, a thousand warriors would be standing on your deck! No, no; that could not be done. Even now your ship would be taken from you were it not that Tararo has some feeling of gratitude towards you. But I know Tararo well. He is a man of falsehood, as all the unconverted savages are. The chief to whom he has promised this girl is very powerful, and Tararo _must_ fulfil his promise. He has told you that he would do nothing to the girl for three days, but that is because the party who are to take her away will not be ready to start for three days. Still, as he might have made you a prisoner during those three days, I say that God has given them to us." "Well, but what do you propose to do?" said Jack impatiently. "My plan involves much danger; but I see no other, and I think you have courage to brave it. It is this. There is an island about fifty miles to the south of this, the natives of which are Christians, and have been so for two years or more, and the principal chief is Avatea's lover. Once there, Avatea would be safe. Now, I suggest that you should abandon your schooner. Do you think that you can make so great a sacrifice?" "Friend," replied Jack, "when I make up my mind to go through with a thing of importance, I can make any sacrifice." The teacher smiled. "Well, then, the savages could not conceive it possible that for the sake of a girl you would voluntarily lose your fine vessel; therefore, as long as she lies here, they think they have you all safe. So I suggest that we get a quantity of stores conveyed to a sequestered part of the shore, provide a small canoe, put Avatea on board, and you three would paddle to the Christian island." "Bravo!" cried Peterkin, springing up and seizing the teacher's hand. "Missionary, you're a regular brick! I didn't think you had so much in you!" "As for me," continued the teacher, "I will remain on board till they discover that you are gone. Then they will ask me where you are gone to, and I will refuse to tell." "And what'll be the result of that?" inquired Jack. "I know not. Perhaps they will kill me; but," he added, looking at Jack with a peculiar smile, "I too am not afraid to die in a good cause!" "But how are we to get hold of Avatea?" inquired Jack. "I have arranged with her to meet us at a particular spot, to which I will guide you to-night. We shall then arrange about it. She will easily manage to elude her keepers, who are not very strict in watching her, thinking it impossible that she could escape from the island. Indeed, I am sure that such an idea will never enter their heads. But, as I have said, you run great danger. Fifty miles in a small canoe, on the open sea, is a great voyage to make. You may miss the island, too, in which case there is no other in that direction for a hundred miles or more; and if you lose your way and fall among other heathens, you know the law of Feejee--a castaway who gains the shore is doomed to die. You must count the cost, my young friend." "I have counted it," replied Jack. "If Avatea consents to run the risk, most certainly I will; and so will my comrades also. Besides," added Jack, looking seriously into the teacher's face, "your Bible--our Bible--tells of ONE who delivers those who call on Him in the time of trouble; who holds the winds in His fists, and the waters in the hollow of His hand." We now set about active preparations for the intended voyage: collected together such things as we should require, and laid out on the deck provisions sufficient to maintain us for several weeks, purposing to load the canoe with as much as she could hold consistently with speed and safety. These we covered with a tarpaulin, intending to convey them to the canoe only a few hours before starting. When night spread her sable curtain over the scene, we prepared to land; but first kneeling along with the natives and the teacher, the latter implored a blessing on our enterprise. Then we rowed quietly to the shore and followed our sable guide, who led us by a long detour in order to avoid the village, to the place of rendezvous. We had not stood more than five minutes under the gloomy shade of the thick foliage when a dark figure glided noiselessly up to us. "Ah, here you are!" said Jack as Avatea approached.--"Now, then, tell her what we've come about, and don't waste time." "I understan' leetl' English," said Avatea in a low voice. "Why, where did you pick up English?" exclaimed Jack in amazement. "You were dumb as a stone when I saw you last." "She has learned all she knows of it from me," said the teacher, "since she came to the island." We now gave Avatea a full explanation of our plans, entering into all the details, and concealing none of the danger, so that she might be fully aware of the risk she ran. As we had anticipated, she was too glad of the opportunity thus afforded her to escape from her persecutors to think of the danger or risk. "Then you're willing to go with us, are you?" said Jack. "Yis, I willing to go." "And you're not afraid to trust yourself out on the deep sea so far?" "No, I not 'fraid to go. Safe with Christian." After some further consultation the teacher suggested that it was time to return, so we bade Avatea good-night; and having appointed to meet at the cliff where the canoe lay on the following night, just after dark, we hastened away--we to row back to the schooner with muffled oars, Avatea to glide back to her prison-hut among the Mango savages. CHAPTER THIRTY THREE. THE FLIGHT--THE PURSUIT--DESPAIR AND ITS RESULTS--THE LION BEARDED IN HIS DEN AGAIN--AWFUL DANGER THREATENED AND WONDERFULLY AVERTED--A TERRIFIC STORM. As the time for our meditated flight drew near, we became naturally very fearful lest our purpose should be discovered, and we spent the whole of the following day in a state of nervous anxiety. We resolved to go ashore and ramble about the village, as if to observe the habits and dwellings of the people, as we thought that an air of affected indifference to the events of the previous day would be more likely than any other course of conduct to avert suspicion as to our intentions. While we were thus occupied, the teacher remained on board with the Christian natives, whose powerful voices reached us ever and anon as they engaged in singing hymns or in prayer. At last the long and tedious day came to a close, the sun sank into the sea, and the short-lived twilight of those regions, to which I have already referred, ended abruptly in a dark night. Hastily throwing a few blankets into our little boat, we stepped into it, and whispering farewell to the natives in the schooner, rowed gently over the lagoon, taking care to keep as near to the beach as possible. We rowed in the utmost silence and with muffled oars, so that had any one observed us at the distance of a few yards, he might have almost taken us for a phantom boat or a shadow on the dark water. Not a breath of air was stirring; but fortunately the gentle ripple of the sea upon the shore, mingled with the soft roar of the breaker on the distant reef, effectually drowned the slight plash that we unavoidably made in the water by the dipping of our oars. A quarter of an hour sufficed to bring us to the overhanging cliff under whose black shadow our little canoe lay, with her bow in the water, ready to be launched, and most of her cargo already stowed away. As the keel of our little boat grated on the sand, a hand was laid upon the bow, and a dim form was seen. "Ha!" said Peterkin in a whisper as he stepped upon the beach; "is that you, Avatea?" "Yis, it am me," was the reply. "All right--Now, then, gently--Help me to shove off the canoe," whispered Jack to the teacher.--"And, Peterkin, do you shove these blankets aboard; we may want them before long.--Avatea, step into the middle: that's right." "Is all ready?" whispered the teacher. "Not quite," replied Peterkin.--"Here, Ralph, lay hold o' this pair of oars, and stow them away if you can. I don't like paddles. After we're safe away, I'll try to rig up rowlocks for them." "Now, then, in with you and shove off!" One more earnest squeeze of the kind teacher's hand, and with his whispered blessing yet sounding in our ears, we shot like an arrow from the shore, sped over the still waters of the lagoon, and paddled as swiftly as strong arms and willing hearts could urge us over the long swell of the open sea. All that night and the whole of the following day we plied our paddles in almost total silence and without a halt, save twice to recruit our failing energies with a mouthful of food and a draught of water. Jack had taken the bearing of the island just after starting, and laying a small pocket-compass before him, kept the head of the canoe due south, for our chance of hitting the island depended very much on the faithfulness of our steersman in keeping our tiny bark exactly and constantly on its proper course. Peterkin and I paddled in the bow, and Avatea worked untiringly in the middle. As the sun's lower limb dipped on the gilded edge of the sea Jack ceased working, threw down his paddle, and called a halt. "There!" he cried, heaving a deep, long-drawn sigh; "we've put a considerable breadth of water between us and these black rascals, so now we'll have a hearty supper and a sound sleep." "Hear, hear!" cried Peterkin. "Nobly spoken, Jack!--Hand me a drop of water, Ralph.--Why, girl, what's wrong with you? You look just like a black owl blinking in the sunshine!" Avatea smiled. "I sleepy," she said; and as if to prove the truth of this, she laid her head on the edge of the canoe and fell fast asleep. "That's uncommon sharp practice," said Peterkin with a broad grin. "Don't you think we should awake her to make her eat something first? Or perhaps," he added with a grave, meditative look--"perhaps we might put some food in her mouth, which is so elegantly open at the present moment, and see if she'd swallow it while asleep.--If so, Ralph, you might come round to the front here and feed her quietly, while Jack and I are tucking into the victuals. It would be a monstrous economy of time." I could not help smiling at Peterkin's idea, which indeed, when I pondered it, seemed remarkably good in theory; nevertheless, I declined to put it in practice, being fearful of the result should the victuals chance to go down the wrong throat. But on suggesting this to Peterkin, he exclaimed: "Down the wrong throat, man! Why, a fellow with half-an-eye might see that if it went down Avatea's throat it could not go down the wrong throat!--unless, indeed, you have all of a sudden become inordinately selfish, and think that all the throats in the world are wrong ones except your own. However, don't talk so much, and hand me the pork before Jack finishes it. I feel myself entitled to at least one minute morsel." "Peterkin, you're a villain--a paltry little villain!" said Jack quietly as he tossed the hind legs (including the tail) of a cold roast pig to his comrade; "and I must again express my regret that unavoidable circumstances have thrust your society upon me, and that necessity has compelled me to cultivate your acquaintance. Were it not that you are incapable of walking upon the water, I would order you, sir, out of the canoe!" "There! you've awakened Avatea with your long tongue," retorted Peterkin, with a frown, as the girl gave vent to a deep sigh. "No," he continued, "it was only a snore. Perchance she dreameth of her black Apollo.--I say, Ralph, do leave just one little slice of that yam! Between you and Jack I run a chance of being put on short allowance, if not--yei-a-a-ow!" Peterkin's concluding remark was a yawn of so great energy that Jack recommended him to postpone the conclusion of his meal till next morning--a piece of advice which he followed so quickly that I was forcibly reminded of his remark, a few minutes before, in regard to the sharp practice of Avatea. My readers will have observed, probably, by this time, that I am much given to meditation: they will not, therefore, be surprised to learn that I fell into a deep reverie on the subject of sleep, which was continued without intermission into the night, and prolonged without interruption into the following morning. But I cannot feel assured that I actually slept during that time, although I am tolerably certain that I was not awake. Thus we lay, like a shadow, on the still bosom of the ocean, while the night closed in, and all around was calm, dark, and silent. A thrilling cry of alarm from Peterkin startled us in the morning, just as the grey dawn began to glimmer in the east. "What's wrong?" cried Jack, starting up. Peterkin replied by pointing, with a look of anxious dread, towards the horizon; and a glance sufficed to show us that one of the largest-sized war-canoes was approaching us! With a groan of mingled despair and anger, Jack seized his paddle, glanced at the compass, and in a suppressed voice commanded us to "Give way!" But we did not require to be urged. Already our four paddles were glancing in the water, and the canoe bounded over the glassy sea like a dolphin, while a shout from our pursuers told that they had observed our motions. "I see something like land ahead," said Jack in a hopeful tone. "It seems impossible that we could have made the island yet; still, if it is so, we may reach it before these fellows can catch us, for our canoe is light and our muscles are fresh." No one replied; for, to say truth, we felt that in a long chase we had no chance whatever with a canoe which held nearly a hundred warriors. Nevertheless, we resolved to do our utmost to escape, and paddled with a degree of vigour that kept us well in advance of our pursuers. The war-canoe was so far behind us that it seemed but a little speck on the sea, and the shouts to which the crew occasionally gave vent came faintly towards us on the morning breeze. We therefore hoped that we should be able to keep in advance for an hour or two, when we might perhaps reach the land ahead. But this hope was suddenly crushed by the supposed land, not long after, rising up into the sky, thus proving itself to be a fog-bank! A bitter feeling of disappointment filled each heart, and was expressed on each countenance, as we beheld this termination to our hopes. But we had little time to think of regret. Our danger was too great and imminent to permit of a moment's relaxation from our exertions. No hope now animated our bosoms; but a feeling of despair, strange to say, lent us power to work, and nerved our arms with such energy that it was several hours ere the savages overtook us. When we saw that there was indeed no chance of escape, and that paddling any longer would only serve to exhaust our strength without doing any good, we turned the side of our canoe towards the approaching enemy and laid down our paddles. Silently, and with a look of bitter determination on his face, Jack lifted one of the light boat-oars that we had brought with us, and resting it on his shoulder, stood up in an attitude of bold defiance. Peterkin took the other oar and also stood up, but there was no anger visible on his countenance: when not sparkling with fun, it usually wore a mild, sad expression, which was deepened on the present occasion as he glanced at Avatea, who sat with her face resting in her hands upon her knees. Without knowing very well what I intended to do, I also arose and grasped my paddle with both hands. On came the large canoe like a war-horse of the deep, with the foam curling from its sharp bow, and the spear-heads of the savages glancing in the beams of the rising sun. Perfect silence was maintained on both sides; and we could hear the hissing water, and see the frowning eyes of the warriors, as they came rushing on. When about twenty yards distant, five or six of the savages in the bow rose, and laying aside their paddles, took up their spears. Jack and Peterkin raised their oars, while, with a feeling of madness whirling in my brain, I grasped my paddle and prepared for the onset. But before any of us could strike a blow, the sharp prow of the war-canoe struck us like a thunderbolt on the side and hurled us into the sea! What occurred after this I cannot tell, for I was nearly drowned; but when I recovered from the state of insensibility into which I had been thrown, I found myself stretched on my back, bound hand and foot, between Jack and Peterkin, in the bottom of the large canoe. In this condition we lay the whole day, during which time the savages only rested one hour. When night came they rested again for another hour, and appeared to sleep just as they sat. But we were neither unbound nor allowed to speak to each other during the voyage, nor was a morsel of food or a draught of water given to us. For food, however, we cared little; but we would have given much for a drop of water to cool our parched lips. And we would have been glad, too, had they loosened the cords that bound us; for they were tightly fastened, and occasioned us much pain. The air, also, was unusually hot--so much so that I felt convinced that a storm was brewing. This also added to our sufferings. However, these were at length relieved by our arrival at the island from which we had fled. While we were being led ashore, we caught a glimpse of Avatea, who was seated in the hinder part of the canoe. She was not fettered in any way. Our captors now drove us before them towards the hut of Tararo, at which we speedily arrived, and found the chief seated with an expression on his face that boded us no good. Our friend the teacher stood beside him, with a look of anxiety on his mild features. "How comes it," said Tararo, turning to the teacher, "that these youths have abused our hospitality?" "Tell him," replied Jack, "that we have not abused his hospitality, for his hospitality has not been extended to us. I came to the island to deliver Avatea, and my only regret is that I have failed to do so. If I get another chance, I will try to save her yet." The teacher shook his head. "Nay, my young friend, I had better not tell him that: it will only incense him." "I care not," replied Jack. "If you don't tell him that, you'll tell him nothing, for I won't say anything softer." On hearing Jack's speech, Tararo frowned, and his eye flashed with anger. "Go, presumptuous boy!" he said. "My debt to you cancelled. You and your companions shall die!" As he spoke he rose and signed to several of attendants, who seized Jack and Peterkin and violently by the collars, and dragging us from the house of the chief, led us through the wood to the outskirts of the village. Here they thrust us into a species of natural cave in a cliff, and having barricaded the entrance, left us in total darkness. After feeling about for some time--for our legs were unshackled, although our wrists were still bound with thongs--we found a low ledge of rock running along one side of the cavern. On this we seated ourselves, and for a long time maintained unbroken silence. At last I could restrain my feelings no longer. "Alas! dear Jack and Peterkin," said I, "what is to become of us? I fear that we are doomed to die." "I know not," replied Jack in a tremulous voice--"I know not. Ralph, I regret deeply the hastiness of my violent temper, which, I must confess, has been the chief cause of our being brought to this sad condition. Perhaps the teacher may do something for us. But I have little hope." "Ah no!" said Peterkin with a heavy sigh; "I am sure he can't help us. Tararo doesn't care more for him than for one of his dogs." "Truly," said I, "there seems no chance of deliverance, unless the Almighty puts forth His arm to save us. Yet I must say I have great hope, my comrades; for we have come to this dark place by no fault of ours--unless it be a fault to try to succour a woman in distress." I was interrupted in my remarks by a noise at the entrance to the cavern, which was caused by the removal of the barricade. Immediately after three men entered, and taking us by the collars of our coats, led us away through the forest. As we advanced we heard much shouting and beating of native drums in the village, and at first we thought that our guards were conducting us to the hut of Tararo again. But in this we were mistaken. The beating of drums gradually increased, and soon after we observed a procession of the natives coming towards us. At the head of this procession we were placed, and then we all advanced together towards the temple where human victims were wont to be sacrificed! A thrill of horror ran through my heart as I recalled to mind the awful scenes that I had before witnessed at that dreadful spot. But deliverance came suddenly from a quarter whence we little expected it. During the whole of that day there had been an unusual degree of heat in the atmosphere, and the sky assumed that lurid aspect which portends a thunderstorm. Just as we were approaching the horrid temple, a growl of thunder burst overhead, and heavy drops of rain began to fall. Those who have not witnessed gales and storms in tropical regions can form but a faint conception of the fearful hurricane that burst upon the island of Mango at this time. Before we reached the temple the storm burst upon us with a deafening roar; and the natives, who knew too well the devastation that was to follow, fled right and left through the woods in order to save their property, leaving us alone in the midst of the howling storm. The trees around us bent before the blast like willows, and we were about to flee in order to seek shelter when the teacher ran toward us with a knife in his hand. "Thank the Lord," he said, cutting our bonds, "I am in time! Now, seek the shelter of the nearest rock." This we did without a moment's hesitation, for the whistling wind burst, ever and anon, like thunderclaps among the trees, and tearing them from their roots, hurled them with violence to the ground. Rain cut across the land in sheets, and lightning played like forked serpents in the air, while high above the roar of the hissing tempest the thunder crashed and burst and rolled in awful majesty. In the village the scene was absolutely appalling. Roofs were blown completely off the houses in many cases, and in others the houses themselves were levelled with the ground. In the midst of this the natives were darting to and fro--in some instances saving their goods, but in many others seeking to save themselves from the storm of destruction that whirled around them. But terrific although the tempest was on land, it was still more tremendous on the mighty ocean. Billows sprang, as it were, from the great deep, and while their crests were absolutely scattered into white mist, they fell upon the beach with a crash that seemed to shake the solid land. But they did not end there. Each successive wave swept higher and higher on the beach until the ocean lashed its angry waters among the trees and bushes, and at length, in a sheet of white, curdled foam, swept into the village and upset and carried off, or dashed into wreck, whole rows of the native dwellings! It was a sublime, an awful scene, calculated, in some degree at least, to impress the mind of beholders with the might and majesty of God. We found shelter in a cave that night and all the next day, during which time the storm raged in fury. But on the night following, it abated somewhat; and in the morning we went to the village to seek for food, being so famished with hunger that we lost all feeling of danger and all wish to escape in our desire to satisfy the cravings of nature. But no sooner had we obtained food than we began to wish that we had rather endeavoured to make our escape into the mountains. This we attempted to do soon afterwards; but the natives were now able to look after us, and on our showing a disposition to avoid observation and make towards the mountains, we were seized by three warriors, who once more bound our wrists and thrust us into our former prison. It is true Jack made a vigorous resistance, and knocked down the first savage who seized him with a well-directed blow of his fist, but he was speedily overpowered by others. Thus we were again prisoners, with the prospect of torture and a violent death before us. CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR. IMPRISONMENT--SINKING HOPES--UNEXPECTED FREEDOM TO MORE THAN ONE, AND IN MORE SENSES THAN ONE. For a long, long month we remained in our dark and dreary prison, during which dismal time we did not see the face of a human being except that of the silent savage who brought us our daily food. There have been one or two seasons in my life during which I have felt as if the darkness of sorrow and desolation that crushed my inmost heart could never pass away until death should make me cease to feel. The present was such a season. During the first part of our confinement we felt a cold chill at our hearts every time we heard a footfall near the cave, dreading lest it should prove to be that of our executioner. But as time dragged heavily on we ceased to feel this alarm, and began to experience such a deep, irrepressible longing for freedom that we chafed and fretted in our confinement like tigers. Then a feeling of despair came over us, and we actually longed for the time when the savages would take us forth to die. But these changes took place very gradually, and were mingled sometimes with brighter thoughts; for there were times when we sat, in that dark cavern on our ledge of rock, and conversed almost pleasantly about the past until we well-nigh forgot the dreary present. But we seldom ventured to touch upon the future. A few decayed leaves and boughs formed our bed, and a scanty supply of yams and taro, brought to us once a day, constituted our food. "Well, Ralph, how have you slept?" said Jack in a listless tone on rising one morning from his humble couch. "Were you much disturbed by the wind last night?" "No," said I. "I dreamed of home all night, and I thought that my mother smiled upon me and beckoned me to go to her; but I could not, for I was chained." "And I dreamed too," said Peterkin; "but it was of our happy home on the Coral Island. I thought we were swimming in the Water Garden. Then the savages gave a yell, and we were immediately in the cave at Spouting Cliff, which, somehow or other changed into this gloomy cavern; and I awoke to find it true." Peterkin's tone was so much altered by the depressing influence of his long imprisonment that, had I not known it was he who spoke, I should scarcely have recognised it, so sad was it, and so unlike to the merry, cheerful voice we had been accustomed to hear. I pondered this much, and thought of the terrible decline of happiness that may come on human beings in so short a time; how bright the sunshine in the sky at one time, and in a short space bow dark the overshadowing cloud! I had no doubt that the Bible would have given me much light and comfort on this subject if I had possessed one, and I once more had occasion to regret deeply having neglected to store my memory with its consoling truths. While I meditated thus, Peterkin again broke the silence of the cave by saying, in a melancholy tone, "Oh, I wonder if we shall ever see our dear island more!" His voice trembled, and covering his face with both hands, he bent down his head and wept. It was an unusual sight for me to see our once joyous companion in tears, and I felt a burning desire to comfort him; but, alas! what could I say? I could hold out no hope; and although I essayed twice to speak, the words refused to pass my lips. While I hesitated Jack sat down beside him and whispered a few words in his ear, while Peterkin threw himself on his friend's breast and rested his head on his shoulder. Thus we sat for some time in deep silence. Soon after we heard footsteps at the entrance of the cave, and immediately our jailer entered. We were so much accustomed to his regular visits, however, that we paid little attention to him, expecting that he would set down our meagre fare as usual and depart. But, to our surprise, instead of doing so, he advanced towards us with a knife in his hand, and going up to Jack, he cut the thongs that bound his wrists; then he did the same to Peterkin and me! For fully five minutes we stood in speechless amazement, with our freed hands hanging idly by our sides. The first thought that rushed into my mind was that the time had come to put us to death; and although, as I have said before, we actually wished for death in the strength of our despair, now that we thought it drew really near I felt all the natural love of life revive in my heart, mingled with a chill of horror at the suddenness of our call. But I was mistaken. After cutting our bonds the savage pointed to the cave's mouth, and we marched, almost mechanically, into the open air. Here, to our surprise, we found the teacher standing under a tree, with his hands clasped before him, and the tears trickling down his dark cheeks. On seeing Jack, who came out first, he sprang towards him, and clasping him in his arms, exclaimed: "Oh my dear young friend, through the great goodness of God you are free!" "Free?" cried Jack. "Ay, free!" repeated the teacher, shaking us warmly by the hands again and again--"free to go and come as you will. The Lord has unloosed the bonds of the captive, and set the prisoners free. A missionary has been sent to us, and Tararo has embraced the Christian religion! The people are even now burning their gods of wood! Come, my dear friends, and see the glorious sight!" We could scarcely credit our senses. So long had we been accustomed, in our cavern, to dream of deliverance, that we imagined for a moment this must surely be nothing more than another vivid dream. Our eyes and minds were dazzled, too, by the brilliant sunshine, which almost blinded us after our long confinement to the gloom of our prison, so that we felt giddy with the variety of conflicting emotions that filled our throbbing bosoms; but as we followed the footsteps of our sable friend, and beheld the bright foliage of the trees, and heard the cries of the paroquets, and smelt the rich perfume of the flowering shrubs, the truth--that we were really delivered from prison and from death--rushed with overwhelming power into our souls, and with one accord, while tears sprang to our eyes, we uttered a loud, long cheer of joy. It was replied to by a shout from a number of the natives who chanced to be near. Running towards us, they shook us by the hand with every demonstration of kindly feeling. They then fell behind, and forming a sort of procession, conducted us to the dwelling of Tararo. The scene that met our eyes here was one that I shall never forget. On a rude bench in front of his house sat the chief. A native stood on his left hand, who from his dress seemed to be a teacher. On his right stood an English gentleman, who I at once, and rightly, concluded was a missionary. He was tall, thin, and apparently past forty, with a bald forehead and thin grey hair. The expression of his countenance was the most winning I ever saw, and his clear grey eyes beamed with a look that was frank, fearless, loving, and truthful. In front of the chief was an open space, in the centre of which lay a pile of wooden idols, ready to be set on fire; and around these were assembled thousands of natives, who had come to join in or to witness the unusual sight. A bright smile overspread the missionary's face as he advanced quickly to meet us, and he shook us warmly by the hands. "I am overjoyed to meet you, my dear young friends," he said. "My friend and _your_ friend, the teacher, has told me your history; and I thank our Father in heaven with all my heart, that He has guided me to this island and made me the instrument of saving you." We thanked the missionary most heartily, and asked him, in some surprise, how he had succeeded in turning the heart of Tararo in our favour. "I will tell you that at a more convenient time," he answered, "meanwhile we must not forget the respect due to the chief. He waits to receive you." In the conversation that immediately followed between us and Tararo, the latter said that the light of the Gospel of Jesus Christ had been sent to the island, and that to it we were indebted for our freedom. Moreover, he told us that we were at liberty to depart in our schooner whenever we pleased, and that we should be supplied with as much provision as we required. He concluded by shaking hands with us warmly, and performing the ceremony of rubbing noses. This was indeed good news to us, and we could hardly find words to express our gratitude to the chief and to the missionary. "And what of Avatea?" inquired Jack. The missionary replied by pointing to a group of natives, in the midst of whom the girl stood. Beside her was a tall, strapping fellow, whose noble mien and air of superiority bespoke him a chief of no ordinary kind. "That youth is her lover. He came this very morning in his war-canoe to treat with Tararo for Avatea. He is to be married in a few days, and afterwards returns to his island home with his bride." "That's capital!" said Jack as he stepped up to the savage and gave him a hearty shake of the hand. "I wish you joy, my lad!--And you too, Avatea!" As Jack spoke, Avatea's lover took him by the hand and led him to the spot where Tararo and the missionary stood, surrounded by most of the chief men of the tribe. The girl herself followed and stood on his left hand, while her lover stood on his right, and commanding silence, made the following speech, which was translated by the missionary: "Young friend, you have seen few years, but your head is old. Your heart, also, is large and very brave. I and Avatea are your debtors; and we wish, in the midst of this assembly, to acknowledge our debt, and to say that it is one which we can never repay. You have risked your life for one who was known to you only for a few days. But she was a woman in distress, and that was enough to secure to her the aid of a Christian man. We, who live in these islands of the sea, know that the true Christians always act thus. Their religion is one of love and kindness. We thank God that so many Christians have been sent here: we hope many more will come. Remember that I and Avatea will think of you, and pray for you and your brave comrades, when you are far away." To this kind speech Jack returned a short, sailor-like reply, in which he insisted that he had only done for Avatea what he would have done for any woman under the sun. But Jack's forte did not lie in speech-making, so he terminated rather abruptly by seizing the chief's hand and shaking it violently, after which he made a hasty retreat. "Now, then, Ralph and Peterkin," said Jack as we mingled with the crowd, "it seems to me that, the object we came here for having been satisfactorily accomplished, we have nothing more to do but get ready for sea as fast as we can, and hurrah for old England!" "That's my idea precisely," said Peterkin, endeavouring to wink; but he had wept so much of late, poor fellow, that he found it difficult. "However, I'm not going away till I see these fellows burn their gods." Peterkin had his wish, for in a few minutes afterwards fire was put to the pile, the roaring flames, ascended, and amid the acclamations of the assembled thousands, the false gods of Mango were reduced to ashes! CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE. CONCLUSION. To part is the lot of all mankind. The world is a scene of constant leave-taking, and the hands that grasp in cordial greeting to-day are doomed ere long to unite for the last time when the quivering lips pronounce the word "Farewell." It is a sad thought, but should we on that account exclude it from our minds? May not a lesson worth learning be gathered in the contemplation of it? May it not, perchance, teach us to devote our thoughts more frequently and attentively to that land where we meet but part no more? How many do we part from in this world with a light good-bye whom we never see again! Often do I think, in my meditations on this subject, that if we realised more fully the shortness of the fleeting intercourse that we have in this world with many of our fellow-men, we would try more earnestly to do them good, to give them a friendly smile, as it were, in passing (for the longest intercourse on earth is little more than a passing word and glance), and show that we have sympathy with them in the short, quick struggle of life by our kindly words and looks and actions. The time soon drew near when we were to quit the islands of the South Seas; and strange though it may appear, we felt deep regret at parting with the natives of the island of Mango, for after they embraced the Christian faith, they sought, by showing us the utmost kindness, to compensate for the harsh treatment we had experienced at their hands. And we felt a growing affection for the native teachers and the missionary, and especially for Avatea and her husband. Before leaving we had many long and interesting conversations with the missionary, in one of which he told us that he had been making for the island of Rarotonga when his native-built sloop was blown out of its course, during a violent gale, and driven to this island. At first the natives refused to listen to what he had to say; but after a week's residence among them, Tararo came to him and said that he wished to become a Christian and would burn his idols. He proved himself to be sincere, for, as we have seen, he persuaded all his people to do likewise. I use the word "persuaded" advisedly, for, like all the other Feejee chiefs, Tararo was a despot, and might have commanded obedience to his wishes; but he entered so readily into the spirit of the new faith that he perceived at once the impropriety of using constraint in the propagation of it. He set the example, therefore; and that example was followed by almost every man of the tribe. During the short time that we remained at the island repairing our vessel and getting her ready for sea, the natives had commenced building a large and commodious church under the superintendence of the missionary, and several rows of new cottages were marked out; so that the place bid fair to become, in a few months, as prosperous and beautiful as the Christian village at the other end of the island. After Avatea was married, she and her husband were sent away loaded with presents, chiefly of an edible nature. One of the native teachers went with them, for the purpose of visiting still more distant islands of the sea, and spreading, if possible, the light of the glorious Gospel there. As the missionary intended to remain for several weeks longer in order to encourage and confirm his new converts, Jack and Peterkin and I held a consultation in the cabin of our schooner--which we found just as we had left her, for everything that had been taken out of her was restored. We now resolved to delay our departure no longer. The desire to see our beloved native land was strong upon us, and we could not wait. Three natives volunteered to go with us to Tahiti, where we thought it likely that we should be able to procure a sufficient crew of sailors to man our vessel; so we accepted their offer gladly. It was a bright, clear morning when we hoisted the snow-white sails of the pirate schooner and left the shores of Mango. The missionary and thousands of the natives came down to bid us God-speed and to see us sail away. As the vessel bent before a light, fair wind, we glided quickly over the lagoon under a cloud of canvas. Just as we passed through the channel in the reef the natives gave us a loud cheer; and as the missionary waved his hat, while he stood on a coral rock with his grey hairs floating in the wind, we heard the single word "Farewell" borne faintly over the sea. That night, as we sat on the taffrail gazing out upon the wide sea and up into the starry firmament, a thrill of joy, strangely mixed with sadness, passed through our hearts; for we were at length "homeward bound" and were gradually leaving far behind us the beautiful, bright-green coral islands of the Pacific Ocean. 
34483	----	Alone on an Island, by W.H.G. Kingston. ________________________________________________________________________ ________________________________________________________________________ ALONE ON AN ISLAND, BY W.H.G. KINGSTON. CHAPTER ONE. The _Wolf_, a letter-of-marque of twenty guns, commanded by Captain Deason, sailing from Liverpool, lay becalmed on the glass-like surface of the Pacific. The sun struck down with intense heat on the dock, compelling the crew to seek such shade as the bulwarks or sails afforded. Some were engaged in mending sails, twisting yarns, knotting, splicing, or in similar occupations; others sat in groups between the guns, talking together in low voices, or lay fast asleep out of sight in the shade. The officers listlessly paced the deck, or stood leaning over the bulwarks, casting their eyes round the horizon in the hopes of seeing signs of a coming breeze. Their countenances betrayed ill-humour and dissatisfaction; and if they spoke to each other, it was in gruff, surly tones. They had had a long course of ill luck, as they called it, having taken no prizes of value. The crew, too, had for some time exhibited a discontented and mutinous spirit, which Captain Deason, from his bad temper, was ill fitted to quell. While he vexed and insulted the officers, they bullied and tyrannised over the men. The crew, though often quarrelling among themselves, were united in the common hatred to their superiors, till that little floating world became a perfect pandemonium. Among those who paced her deck, anxiously looking out for a breeze, was Humphry Gurton, a fine lad of fifteen, who had joined the _Wolf_ as a midshipman. This was his first trip to sea. He had intended to enter the Navy, but just as he was about to do so his father, a merchant at Liverpool, failed, and, broken-hearted at his losses, soon afterwards died, leaving his wife and only son but scantily provided for. Tenderly had that wife, though suffering herself from a fatal disease, watched over him in his sickness, and Humphry had often sat by his father's bedside while his mother was reading from God's Word, and listened as with tender earnestness she explained the simple plan of salvation to his father. She had shown him from the Bible that all men are by nature sinful, and incapable, by anything they can do, of making themselves fit to enter a pure and holy heaven, however respectable or excellent they may be in the sight of their fellow-men, and that the only way the best of human beings can come to God is by imitating the publican in the parable, and acknowledging themselves worthless, outcast sinners, and seeking to be reconciled to Him according to the one way He has appointed--through a living faith in the all-atoning sacrifice of His dear Son. Humphry had heard his father exclaim, "I believe that Jesus died for me; O Lord, help my unbelief! I have no merits of my own; I trust to Him, and Him alone." He had witnessed the joy which had lighted up his mother's countenance as she pressed his father's hand, and bending down, whispered, "We shall be parted but for a short time; and, oh! may our loving Father grant that this our son may too be brought to love the Saviour, and join us when he is summoned to leave this world of pain and sorrow." Humphry had felt very sad; and though he had wept when his father's eyes were closed in death, and his mother had pressed him--now the only being on earth for whom she desired to live--to her heart, yet the impression he had received had soon worn off. In a few months after his father died, she too was taken from him, and Humphry was left an orphan. The kind and pious minister, Mr Faithful, who frequently visited Mrs Gurton during the last weeks of her illness, had promised her to watch over her boy, but he had no legal power. Humphry's guardian was a worldly man, and finding that there was but a very small sum for his support, was annoyed at the task imposed on him. Humphry had expressed his wish to go to sea. A lad whose acquaintance he had lately made, Tom Matcham, was just about to join the _Wolf_, and, persuading him that they should meet with all sorts of adventures, offered to assist him in getting a berth on board her. Humphry's guardian, to save himself trouble, was perfectly willing to agree to the proposed plan, and, without difficulty, arranged for his being received on board as a midshipman. "We shall have a jovial life of it, depend upon that!" exclaimed Matcham when the matter was settled. "I intend to enjoy myself. The officers are rather wild blades, but that will suit me all the better." Harry went to bid farewell to Mr Faithful. "I pray that God will prosper and protect you, my lad," he said. "I trust that your young companion is a right principled youth, who will assist you as you will be ready to help him, and that the captain and officers are Christian men." "I have not been long enough acquainted with Tom Matcham to know much about him," answered Humphry. "I very much doubt that the captain and officers are the sort of people you describe. However, I daresay I shall get on very well with them." "My dear Humphry," exclaimed Mr Faithful, "I am deeply grieved to hear that you can give no better account of your future associates. Those who willingly mix with worldly or evil-disposed persons are very sure to suffer. Our constant prayer is that we may be kept out of temptation, and we are mocking God if we willingly throw ourselves into it. I would urge you, if you are not satisfied with the character of those who are to be your companions for so many years, to give up the appointment while there is time. I would accompany you, and endeavour to get your agreement cancelled. It will be better to do so at any cost, rather than run the risk of becoming like them." "Oh, I daresay that they are not bad fellows after all!" exclaimed Humphry. "You know I need not do wrong, even though they do." The minister sighed. In vain he urged Humphry to consider the matter seriously. "All I can do, then, my young friend, is to pray for you," said Mr Faithful, as he wrung Harry's hand, "and I beg you, as a parting gift, to accept these small books. One is a book above all price, of a size which you may keep in your pocket, and I trust that you will read it as you can make opportunities, even though others may attempt to interrupt you, or to persuade you to leave it neglected in your chest." It was a small Testament, and Harry, to please the minister, promised to carry it in his pocket, and to read from it as often as he could. Humphry having parted from his friend, went down at once to join the ship. Next day she sailed. Humphry at first felt shocked at hearing the oaths and foul language used, both by the crew and officers. The captain, who on shore appeared a grave, quiet sort of man, swore louder and oftener than any one. Scarcely an order was issued without an accompaniment of oaths; indeed blasphemy resounded throughout the ship. Matcham only laughed at Humphry when he expressed his annoyance. "You will soon get accustomed to it," he observed. "I confess that I myself was rather astonished when I first heard the sort of thing, but I don't mind it now a bit." So Humphry thought, for Matcham interlarded his own conversation with the expressions used by the rest on board; indeed, swearing had become so habitual to him, that he seemed scarcely aware of the fearful language which escaped his lips. By degrees, as Matcham had foretold, Humphry did get accustomed to the language used by all around, which had at first so greatly shocked him. Though he kept his promise to the minister, and carried the little Testament in his pocket, he seldom found time to read it. He wished to become a sailor, and he applied himself diligently to learn his profession; and as he was always in a good temper and ready to oblige, the captain and officers treated him with more respect than they did Matcham, who was careless and indifferent, and ready to shirk duty whenever he could do so. Matcham, finding himself constantly abused, chose to consider that it was owing to Humphry, and, growing jealous, took every opportunity of annoying him. Humphry, however, gained the good-will of the men by never swearing at them, or using the rope's-end: this the officers were accustomed to do on all occasions, and Matcham imitated them by constantly thrashing the boys, often without the slightest excuse. As the ship sailed on her voyage, the state of affairs on board became worse and worse. On one occasion the crew came aft, complaining that their provisions were bad, and then that the water was undrinkable, when the captain, appearing with pistols in his hands, ordered them to go forward, refusing to listen to what they had to say. Another time they complained that they were stinted in their allowance of spirits, when he treated them in the same way. They retired, casting looks of defiance at him and the officers. On several occasions, when some of the men did not obey orders with sufficient promptitude, Humphry saw them struck to the deck by the first and second mates without any notice being taken by the captain. The officers, too, quarrelled among themselves; the first officer and the second refused to speak to each other; and the surgeon, who considered that he had been insulted, declined intercourse with either of them. The younger officers followed their bad example, and often and often Humphry wished that he had listened to the advice of his friend Mr Faithful, and had inquired the character of his intended companions before he joined the ship. At the first port in South America at which the _Wolf_ touched, the surgeon, carrying his chest with him, went on shore, and refused to return till the mates had apologised. As this they would not do, she sailed without him; and although the men might be wounded, or sickness break out, there was now no one on board capable of attending to them. Such was the condition of the _Wolf_ at the time she was thus floating becalmed and alone on the wide ocean. CHAPTER TWO. Harry Gurton stood gazing on the glassy sea till his eyes ached with the bright glare, his thoughts wandering back to the days of his happy childhood, when he was the pride and delight of his beloved father and mother. He had come on deck only to breathe a purer air than was to be found below. Soon after leaving the coast of South America a fever had broken out on board, and several of the crew lay sick in their berths. Their heartless shipmates, afraid of catching the complaint, took little care of them. Humphry could not bear to see them suffer without help, and from the first had done his best to attend on them. He constantly went round, taking them water and such food as he could induce the cook to prepare. Tom Matcham was the only officer who had as yet been struck down by the fever. He lay in his berth tossing and groaning, complaining of his hard lot. The officers, who were annoyed by his cries, often abused him, telling him roughly not to disturb them. "The cruel brutes! I will be revenged on them if I ever get well," exclaimed Matcham. In vain Humphry tried to pacify him. "Don't mind what they say, Tom," he observed. "I hope you may get well; but if you were to die, it would be dreadful to go out of the world with such feelings in your heart. I remember enough about religion to know that we should forgive those who injure us. If you will let me, I will try to say some of the prayers which my mother taught me when I was a child, and I will pray with you. I have got a Testament, and I should like to read to you out of it." "I can't pray, and I don't want to hear anything from the Testament," answered Tom gloomily. "It would be very dreadful if you were to go out of the world feeling as you now do," urged Humphry. "What! you don't mean to say you think I am going to die!" exclaimed Tom in an agitated voice. "I tell you honestly, Tom, that you seem as bad as the two poor fellows who died last week," said Humphry. "Oh, you are croaking," groaned Tom, though his voice faltered as he spoke. After talking for some time longer without being able to move him, Humphry was compelled to go forward to attend to some of the other men. In the first hammock he came to lay Ned Hadow, one of the oldest, and apparently one of the most ruffianly of the crew. He seemed, however, to be grateful to Humphry for his kindness; and he acknowledged that if it had not been for him, he should have been fathoms down in the deep before then. "I hope, however, that you are getting better now," said Humphry. "Thanks to you, sir, I think I am," answered Ned. "I don't want to die, though I cannot say I have much to live for, nor has any one else aboard this ship, except to be abused and knocked about without any chance of gaining any good by the cruise." "Perhaps we may do better by and by," observed Humphry. "I have no hopes of that while such men as the captain and his mates have charge of the ship. Take my advice, Mr Gurton, if you have a chance, get out of her as fast as you can. You will thank me for warning you--it is the only way I have to show that I am grateful to you for your kindness." Hadow's remarks made no deep impression upon Humphry, but he could not help occasionally recollecting them. After visiting the other sick men, he went on deck to keep his proper watch; then, weary with his exertions, he turned into his berth to obtain the rest he so much needed. He was awakened by hearing the cry of "All hands shorten sail!" He quickly sprang on deck. A gale had suddenly sprung up. The ship was heeling over, and ploughing her way through the seething waters. The crew flew aloft. The loftier sails were taken in, and the top-sails were being closely reefed, when another blast, more furious than the former, struck the ship, and two poor fellows were hurled from the lee-yard-arm into the foaming waters. There was a cry from the crew, and several rushed to lower a boat-- Humphry among them. "Hold fast!" cried the captain; "let the fellows drown; you will only lose your lives if you attempt to save them." Still the men persisted, showing more humanity than they had exhibited in attending to their sick shipmates, when the captain swore that he would shoot any one who disobeyed him. Though spare spars and everything that could float had been hove overboard, the poor fellows in the water could no longer be seen. The crew, with gloomy looks, assembled forward, muttering threats which did not reach the officers' ears. The change of weather had the effect of restoring some of the sick men to health, though several died. Among the first to appear on deck was Ned Hadow. He still looked weak and ill--the shadow of his former self. He was changed in other respects, and Humphry observed that he was quiet in his behaviour, and no longer swore in the way he had been accustomed to do. Matcham remained in his berth. He seemed a little better, though he still refused to listen to Humphry when he offered to read the Bible to him, and when asked the reason, replied, "Because I am not going to let those fellows suppose that I am afraid to die. They would be sneering at me, and calling me a Methodist; and I don't intend to die either, so I don't see why I should bother myself by having religion thrust down my throat." "If you are not going to die, I suppose the case is different," answered Humphry. "Still, I know that if you were, the Bible is the best book to read. I wish that I had read it oftener myself." "If I can get hold of it, I will take care that neither you nor I am troubled with it in future," answered Matcham. "You have teased me too much about it already. I wish you would just try what the captain or mates would say to you if you were to bother them." Humphry put his little Testament into his pocket, determining that his messmate should not get hold of it. Still, much as he valued the book as a gift from his old friend, he looked upon it, as many other people do, as a book to be reverenced, and to be read in times of sickness or trouble; but he had little notion of the value of an open Bible, to be studied with prayer every day in the week, to serve as a light to his feet and a lamp to his path, and to guide him in the everyday affairs of life. Humphry, wishing Matcham good evening, went on deck. As he looked ahead, he saw in the distance a small island rising like a rock out of the blue ocean. The ship was standing towards it. The sun, however, was just then setting, and in a short time it was concealed from sight by the mists of night. As he was to keep the first watch with the third mate, he went down and took some supper. When he returned on deck, he found that the sky was overcast with clouds, and that the night was excessively dark. He could scarcely distinguish the man at the helm or the officer of the watch. "Is that you, Gurton?" asked the third mate. "The orders are to heave to in an hour, so as not to run past the island we saw at sunset, as the captain wishes to examine it to-morrow morning. Go forward, and see that the look-outs are keeping their eyes open; the reefs may run further off the land than we think for." "Ay, ay, sir," answered Humphry, making his way along the deck. Having spoken to the men as directed, he stood for some minutes trying to pierce the thick gloom, and as he was sure no danger could be seen till the ship was close upon it, he resolved to return aft, and advise the mate to heave her to sooner than he had been ordered. When just abreast of the fore-rigging, he suddenly felt his arms pinioned behind him, and a gag thrust into his mouth. At the same time a voice whispered in his ear, which he recognised as Ned Hadow's, "Do not cry out--no harm is intended you; what we do is for your good." The next instant he felt himself lifted off his feet and placed in the fore-rigging, up which a man on either side forced him to ascend. He soon reached the top. "He will be safer in the cross-trees," said one of the men, and he was compelled to ascend till he got there. "We must make you fast where you are," whispered Hadow, compelling Humphry to sit down on the cross-trees, and lashing him to the rigging. "If you will promise not to cry out, we will remove the gag from your mouth; if not, you must be content to bear it for some time longer. Here, press my hand if you promise to do as I tell you--I can trust to your word." Humphry was very anxious to get rid of the gag, which hurt him, and pressed the hand placed in his. The gag was immediately taken out of his mouth. "Whatever sounds you hear, or whatever you see, don't cry out, as you value your life," whispered Hadow. The next moment Humphry was left alone. He sat wondering why he had been thus treated. Hadow could certainly not have intended to injure him; at the same time, he could not help fearing that the crew contemplated some dreadful act of mutiny, and that Hadow had contrived to get him up there to keep him out of harm's way. Nothing could he see but the tall mast above his head tapering towards the dark sky, and the yard and ropes immediately below him. All on deck seemed quiet, no voices reached his ear. The moments passed slowly by. Suddenly a loud shriek rent the air, followed by a heavy groan; then came the flash and report of a pistol-- another, and another followed. Now rose fierce shouts and cries from many voices, loud thundering blows, and the clash of cutlasses. A desperate fight was going on. He no longer had any doubt that the officers had been attacked, and were struggling for their lives. Suddenly, as they began, all sounds of strife ceased, though he could now distinguish the voices of the crew shouting to each other. The helm during the contest had been deserted, and the ship had come up to the wind. It seemed a relief to him to hear the boatswain's voice ordering the crew to brace up the yards. The ship was then hove to. No one, however, came to release him. If his friend Hadow had fallen in the strife, what would be his fate when the rest of the crew discovered him? The dreadful certainty forced itself upon his mind, that the officers had been overcome. He heard the men moving about the deck, and talking in loud voices to each other; but though he listened eagerly, he could not ascertain what was said. Hour after hour passed by. No one came aloft to release him. Notwithstanding the fearful anxiety he felt, he at length dropped off into forgetfulness; but his dream were troubled, and full of the horrors which had just occurred. CHAPTER THREE. "It was well I thought of lashing you securely, or you would have fallen and been killed," said a voice in Humphry's ear. Consciousness returned. He recognised Ned Hadow. "It will be wise in you not to ask any questions, Mr Gurton," he whispered. "Just be sure that you are wide awake, and I will cast off the lashings. I have done the best I could for you. The men did not ask you to join them because they believed you would not, nor do I either. I am too grateful to you for what you have done for me to wish you to be among them. They have now possession of the ship, and intend to keep it. As we shall be at daybreak close in with the island we saw last night, they give you your choice of being put on shore there, or taking the oath of fidelity to them, and joining their cause. As I said before, I don't suppose you will hesitate about the matter." "Indeed I will not," answered Humphry; "whether or not the island is inhabited or means of subsistence can be found on it, I would rather be put on shore than remain an hour longer than I can help on board the ship, after what I fear has taken place." "As I said, Mr Gurton, you must ask no questions," repeated Hadow. "I wish I could go with you, but I am sworn to stay by the rest. I would give anything to be out of the ship, but it is too late now to draw back; though, as I have heard it said, that hell with sinners often begins on earth, so it has begun with me. Yes, Mr Gurton, I almost wish that I had been carried off by the fever instead of living on, to become what I now am. I was bad enough before, but I am a thousand times worse now. There is no one on board I can say this to, and I cannot help saying it to you." "Surely you could manage to come on shore with me," said Humphry. "Your messmates will probably release you from any oath you have taken if you wish it." "They will not do that, sir, they will not do that," answered Hadow in a despairing tone. "I am bound hand and foot to them; their fate, whatever that is, must be mine. You must not stay up here longer. I will cast off the lashings now, but you must take care, as your arms will be stiff after being bound so long, that you don't fall. I will hold you till you get the use of them." Saying this, Ned cast off the rope, and grasping Humphry round the body, assisted him to get on his legs; then, after he had stood for a minute or two, helped him to descend the rigging. On reaching the foretop, Hadow told him to wait there till he should come for him. "I don't want you to go among the crew," he said in a low voice. "I have got four men whom you looked after in their sickness, who have agreed to pull you on shore, which we hope to reach as soon as there is light enough to land. The boat is already in the water, and we are stowing her with things which we think will be useful to you. As you saw nothing of what happened, even should you be taken off the island some time or other, you cannot swear against any one. All you know is that you were lashed in the rigging, and were put on shore the same night before daybreak. If any one asks you questions on deck, that is what you must say to them--you understand me?" Humphry replied that he did understand, and, suspecting that his safety depended on his answer, said that he would do as Ned advised. "Well, then, stay here till I come for you," and Ned disappeared down the rigging. Harry had not long to wait when he again heard his voice. "All is ready," he whispered. "We took the bearings of the island before dark, and can steer a straight course for it. Don't speak to any one. Follow me into the boat; she is waiting under the forechains; you will find a rope by which you can lower yourself into her." Humphry followed Ned without ever stepping on deck, and took his seat near him in the stern of the boat, which noiselessly shoved off from the ship's side. The crew bent to their oars, while Ned steered by a boat compass lighted by a lantern at his feet. Humphry breathed more freely when he felt himself out of the ship. Yet what a fate was to be his. To be left alone on an island where he might have to spend long, long years, cut off from all intercourse with his fellow-creatures. Yet anything was better than having to associate with the wretched men on board the _Wolf_. They soon lost sight of the ship, and the boat made her way across the dark water, the island not being yet visible ahead. "Are they all dead, have none been spared?" asked Humphry at length, yet half fearing to speak on the subject which occupied his thoughts. "I told you, Mr Gurton, to ask no questions," answered Ned in a hollow voice. "The sooner you put all thoughts of what happened last night out of your head the better. Just think of what you have got to do. You will have to keep your wits awake where you are going, depend on that. I wish we could stop to help you, but we have promised to be back as soon as we have landed your things. All I can tell you is, that there is said to be water, and you will probably find cocoa-nut and bread-fruit trees, and other roots and fruits; and as we have put up lines and hooks, and a gun and ammunition, and a couple of harpoons, and lines for catching seals, it will be your fault if you do not manage to find as much food as you want." "But how shall I be able to live all alone by myself on the island?" said Humphry with a sigh. "Better to be all alone than food for the sharks, I have a notion," observed one of the men who overheard him. Humphry made no further remark. He now felt more than ever certain that a fearful tragedy had been enacted, and that he ought to be thankful to get out of the company of the perpetrators. Yet he was sorry to leave Hadow among them, for he had observed, he thought, the signs of something better in him than in his companions, rough and ignorant as he was. As day dawned the island appeared ahead, rising out of the blue water with black rocks piled one upon another, and some hills of considerable elevation. Humphry observed also a deep sandy bay between the rocks, but an encircling coral reef intervened, over which, even on that calm morning, the sea broke in masses of foam. They pulled along till the bay opened out more clearly, and just in front was a cascade, which came tumbling down the rocks. A narrow piece of dark water was seen between the masses of foam which danced up on either side of it. "There is a passage," exclaimed Ned. "Give way, my lads, and we shall get through it without difficulty." The men bent to their oars, and the boat, dashing between the two walls of foam, was in a short time floating on the calm surface of a lagoon. Pulling up the bay, they reached a small sandy beach, though the dark rocks which everywhere rose up around it gave the place a gloomy aspect. The boat was hauled up, and the men quickly landed the various articles which Ned had secured for Humphry's benefit. He and Humphry searching about soon found a level spot on one side of the bay where the ground looked capable of cultivation. "This will do for you, my lad," said Ned. "And as I found some papers of seed in the captain's cabin, I put them into one of the casks; though I don't know what they are, maybe if you sow them they will come up, and supply you with vegetables." The men now brought up all the things from the boat. They all wished him good luck and a happy life on the island, and then hurried back to the boat. "I only wish I could stop with you, that I do!" exclaimed Ned with some feeling, as he wrung Humphry's hand. "I dare not say `God bless you!' but I hope He will, that I do with all my heart," and Ned ran down to join his companions, who were already shoving off the boat. He would not have been sorry if they had gone without him. Humphry watched them going down the bay. They passed through the reef, and pulled out to sea till the boat was lost to sight, though he could distinguish the ship hove to in the offing waiting for her return. CHAPTER FOUR. Humphry sat down on his chest, feeling very forlorn. Here he was on a desert island, a mere speck in the ocean, hundreds of miles away perhaps from any place inhabited by civilised man. He might perhaps never be able to make his escape, or again hold intercourse with his fellow-creatures. All alone, without speaking, without exchanging an idea with another human being, he might have to drag out a weary existence; and then, should sickness overtake him, have to lie down and breathe out his life, leaving his bones to whiten in the sun. He had read Robinson Crusoe, but then his case was very different to that of the far-famed voyager. Robinson Crusoe had the companionship of Friday, and his island was fertile and smiling, and he had goats and fowls and other animals to cheer him or to serve him as food. He would have to go in search of fish and birds for his daily food, and as yet was uncertain whether any were to be found, though at present he did not fear starvation, as he had the salted beef and pork and biscuits with which Ned had supplied him. But then when they were gone, how should he live? "It won't do to indulge in these thoughts," he exclaimed to himself, suddenly starting up. "I must think about building a house in the first place; and then as soon as I can prepare the ground I will put in the seed, and, as I hope, some may produce good edible vegetables, I shall have a variety in diet and keep myself in health." As he began to examine the articles which had been brought on shore, he found a large roll of canvas. It was part of an old sail. "This Ned must have intended to serve as a tent till I can put up a more substantial building. I am much obliged to him, and I need not be in any great hurry about building my house." He spoke his thoughts aloud on nearly all occasions. It gave him some relief to hear his own voice. "I must get some poles for the tent, though; and no spars, I see, have been brought on shore." He looked out an axe, and sticking it in his belt, set out to search for what he wanted. "I shall not lose my way in this new kingdom of mine, that's one advantage in having it of moderate size; and if I climb to the top of the hill, I shall be able to sing with Robinson Crusoe, `I am lord of all I survey,'--ah, ah, ah!" and he laughed for the first time for many a day. There was nothing to excite his risibility on board. He felt his spirits rising. "Stay!" he exclaimed suddenly. "What an ungrateful wretch I am! Here have I been saved from a great danger, and placed in safety, at all events for the present, and yet I have not uttered one word of thanks to Him who has preserved me." He knelt down, and lifted up his heart as well as he could to God. "Careless, worthless fellow that I have been! yet God promises to hear all those that come to Him, not trusting to themselves or to their own good deeds, but to the perfect and complete atonement Jesus Christ made for their sins on the cross, so I know that He will hear me; and I am sure, though I am unworthy of His care, that He put it into the hearts of those men to bring me on shore instead of throwing me overboard, or what would have been worse, keeping me among them." He felt his heart much lighter when he rose from his knees. He then, carefully observing the appearance of the rocks, that he might find his way back without difficulty, proceeded on his expedition. Clambering over them, he came to more level ground covered with various bushes, and soon reached a hill-side on which grew a number of trees, palms and others, with the names of which he was unacquainted. He looked in vain for cocoa-nuts, not being aware that the trees are only generally found on the level shore to which the nuts have been borne by the wind and tides of the ocean from other islands. He cut two stout poles for uprights, and a longer one for a ridge-pole, and shouldering them, returned to his camp. "I shall want a fire, though," he thought, as he got back, and throwing them down he again set out to get fuel. This he had no difficulty in finding among the brushwood, and with the aid of his axe he quickly made up a number of faggots. "I shall not be obliged to have a fire burning all night to keep off wild beasts, that is another comfort," he observed. "But it will be cheerful to sit by when it grows dark. I shall not find the time hang heavily on my hands for some days to come, that's another comfort." His first thought was to do the most necessary work. Having brought the faggots to his camp, he next put up his tent. This accomplished, as soon as he sat down to rest he began to feel hungry. He rummaged in a small cask, which contained a number of miscellaneous articles, and discovered a tinder-box. He had soon a fire blazing in front of his tent. He had prudently made it up at a sufficient distance to prevent the risk of the flames reaching the canvas. While he stayed his hunger with some biscuit, he prepared a piece of beef, which he spitted and placed before the fire on two small sticks, such as he had read of people doing under similar circumstances. He turned the meat on the spit, which grew blacker and blacker. "I think it must be done now," he said at length, taking it off. When he cut it with his knife, he found it almost as hard as wood. He attempted to eat a few mouthfuls, but he could scarcely get them down. "This won't do," he said. "I must get some water, to enable me to swallow this dry food." On searching for something to hold the water, he found a saucepan, and on his way with it to the cascade it occurred to him that he might have cooked his beef much better by boiling. "I must try that way for dinner," he thought. A draught of pure water greatly refreshed him. He returned to the camp with his saucepan filled. He put it on at once with a small piece of meat in it, recollecting that salted beef requires a long time to boil, and he hoped to have better success in his second attempt at cooking. He now made a survey of the articles his shipmates had left with him. There was enough beef and pork to serve him for many months, but he regretted to find that the bread would not last him nearly so long. "I must try and find some substitute for it," he said, "and economise it in the meantime. I would rather have had much more bread and less meat, as I hope to catch some fish and kill some birds. However, I need not go hunting till I have put my home to rights." Then he thought of his seeds. He had no spade, however, to dig the ground; so going to the wood he shaped one, which he hoped would answer the purpose, out of the stem of a small tree. It did better than nothing, but he would have been very glad of an iron spade. He at once began to dig up the ground. It was covered thickly with grass with long roots, but the soil was rather sand than earth. "I must dig all this up," he said, "or they will soon sprout up again, and destroy the seed." So he marked out a small plot, carefully throwing the roots and grass into a heap. It then struck him that if they were scattered about on the ground in the sun they would more quickly dry, and he might then burn them, and the ashes would contribute to fertilise the ground. He worked away till he felt quite weary. He then went back to his fire to see how the beef was boiling. As it was not yet done, after resting a short time he returned to his digging. It was a very long operation, but after labouring for four or five hours he found that he had dug up almost ten square yards of ground. "It is thoroughly done, though there is not much of it, and that's a satisfaction," he said. He thought, however, even when the ashes of the grass were mixed with it, it would scarcely be sufficiently fertile for the seeds. "I will go into the woods and collect rotten leaves, and with the ashes of my fire I hope in time to make the soil good." This was a wise thought, but the sun was already getting low, and he determined to wait till the next day to do so. "It will be better to have a small piece of good ground than to dig up the whole plot, and I will only put in a few seeds at first, to see how they answer; so that if some fail, I may try a different way of cultivating them. I shall, at all events, have work enough. How sad it would have been if I had had nothing to do but to sit still and bemoan my hard fate. I may not, after all, find my life so miserable alone as I had expected, that's another comfort." With these reflections he went back to his fire, and now, to his satisfaction, he found that his beef was thoroughly boiled. Ned had forgotten to put in any salt or mustard, but as the beef was salt in itself, that did not signify. It reminded him, however, that if he shot any birds or caught fish, he should require some. That made him resolve to try and look for it amongst the rocks, or to try and manufacture it from salt water, as he had read of being done. He had been accustomed to read a good many books of travels before he came to sea, and he now found the advantage of having done so, by being reminded of the various ways people, when placed in situations similar to his, had been enabled to support existence. This contributed to keep up his spirits, as it made him have no doubts of obtaining food. His only dread was that he might meet with an accident, or might fall ill, when there would be no one to help him. "Well, well, I ought not to trouble myself about that either," he said. "I must pray to God to preserve me, and do my best not to run any unnecessary risk." He then recollected the dreadful complaint, the scurvy, which had already attacked some of the crew of the _Wolf_. "That is brought on by people living too exclusively on salt provisions. I must try to find some roots or herbs till the seeds come up: and then, if they produce vegetables, as I hope they will, I need not be anxious about that." Such were his cogitations during his meal. Having finished, he hung up the remainder of his beef in his tent, to serve as breakfast for the next morning, and then went back to the fountain to enjoy a draught of pure water. He felt but little inclined to do any more work, and the sun had not set when he recollected that he had not yet read from his Testament. He took it from the pocket of his jacket, which hung up in his tent, and sat down to read. He read on for some time, feeling his spirits greatly refreshed, till, by the increasing darkness, he found that the sun had gone down, and that it was time to prepare for rest. Ned had thrown a bed into the boat and a blanket. "Few people left on a desert island as I am have enjoyed so luxurious a couch as this is," thought Humphry, as he laid himself down after offering up his prayers, as he had been accustomed to do before he came to sea. Since then, shame, and the indifference which arises from it, had prevented him ever kneeling in prayer. He now, left all alone as he was, felt that prayer was his greatest comfort; though he had no fellow-creature to talk to, he had the privilege of speaking to his Maker. He had not been reading his Testament without gaining enlightenment. He had learned that he must come to God in His appointed way--through Jesus Christ; that he had no right to approach Him in any other way. He had scarcely placed his head on the bundle of clothes which he had rolled up to make a pillow, and drawn his blanket round him, than he fell fast asleep. CHAPTER FIVE. It seemed but a moment afterwards that Humphry heard some birds chirruping, and opening his eyes, he found that it was already daylight. He instantly sprang up, recollecting that though the days were long, he had plenty of work to do. He first knelt down and earnestly offered up a prayer for protection and guidance. The water in the bay looked bright and clear. Throwing off his clothes and plunging in, he enjoyed a refreshing swim. The warm air soon dried him, for Ned, as may be supposed, had not thought of providing him with towels. As he sat on a rock for a few moments to rest, he saw a dark object floating by in the water, then a triangular fin rose above it, and he observed a pair of fierce-looking eyes gazing up at him. He shuddered, for he recognised the sailor's enemy, the shark. How mercifully he had been preserved! Had he remained in a few minutes longer the monster might have seized him. He must be cautious in future how he bathed. He might find, however, some quiet pool into which no shark could enter. After recovering himself he returned to the camp, and lighted a fire to cook his breakfast, which consisted of salt beef and biscuit. He thought he should like some tea. He searched in his cask of stores, and to his satisfaction he discovered a large bagful, and another of cocoa. This showed him more than ever how thoughtful his friend had been. He knew, however, that he must husband it carefully. Having brought water from the fountain, he made a little, which he found very refreshing. After draining off the liquid he put the leaves carefully by, to serve for another time. With this, and some of the cold beef and biscuit, he made a hearty meal. Then taking his spade in his hand he set to work to dig up more ground. He enriched it also with rotten leaves which he collected, and with the ashes of the grass and roots which he dug up and burned. He had already spent nearly two days on the island. "I shall forget how time passes if I don't take some note of it," he thought. "I must follow Robinson Crusoe's plan, and notch a stick." He at once went and cut a long one. He made a notch to show the day he had landed, and another for that which was then passing. He then smoothed off the end, and carved the date--"20th November 1812." "I will cut a notch every morning, directly I am up, and then I shall not run the risk of missing a day by forgetting to mark it." He was surprised to find how soon Sunday came round. On board the _Wolf_ that sacred day had only been observed by the men being allowed to mend their clothes; or if they were not so employed, they used to sit idly gambling or singing ribald songs. Humphry had been considering all the previous day how he should spend it. "We are told by God in the Bible to do no work, and to make it a day of rest. I am sure that I ought to obey Him, though it may seem important to me to get my house up or to dig more ground. I will therefore obey His commands, and leave the rest to Him." He rose at the usual hour, and went to wash at the waterfall, where he found that he could take a shower-bath, which was cooler and more refreshing than even a dip in the sea. He came back to breakfast, and then taking out his Testament, read for a long time with deep interest. While so employed, it occurred to him that he would learn portions by heart. This amply occupied his mind, and afforded him so much satisfaction, that he determined every morning to commit a verse to memory that he might think of it while he was at work. He began at the "Sermon on the Mount" on Monday morning, so that by the end of another week he had learned six verses. While waiting for the result of his gardening operations, he began putting up his house. As he had the greater portion of the summer of the Southern hemisphere before him, he was in no hurry about this; so during a portion of each day he went out with his gun to shoot birds, or sat on a rock with a line catching fish. He never failed to kill as many birds as he wanted for food, or to catch as many fish as he could eat. He fitted one of his harpoons, and kept it ready for use in case any seals appeared, though he suspected that if they visited the island at all, they would not come till the winter season. He had gone on increasing his garden, and putting in more seeds. Greatly to his delight those he first sowed now appeared above ground, he watered them regularly, and the plants rapidly increased in size. Some were evidently cabbages, while others put forth roots with tubers; others, again, greatly resembled spinach. He had now got up his house, and had dug a garden sufficiently large for his wants. The soil, by being watered every day, became even more fertile than he had expected. CHAPTER SIX. Several weeks thus passed away before he thought of exploring his island. His stores had during this time visibly diminished. He therefore saw the necessity of laying in a store of food which might serve him when he could not obtain it either by his gun or fishing-lines. During bad weather, when the sea breaking over the reef washed into the bay, he was frequently unable to catch fish. He thought over various ways of preserving them. "I might dry some in the sun, and salt others; but I suspect they would keep better and be more palatable if I could smoke them." He found salt in the hollows of the rocks as he had expected, but it required much time and labour to collect. One of his small casks was now empty. A fine day, when the fish bit freely, enabled him to catch a large number, and he made his first experiment. He had already got a large pile of salt, though it was somewhat sandy, but he thought that would not signify. He cut off the heads and tails of the fish, then rubbed the salt thoroughly into them, and packed them away in layers, with salt between each. It took him three or four days' fishing to fill his cask, when all the salt was expended. He then stowed it away in a dry part of his hut, hoping that he had now secured food to last him for several weeks. He next tried drying some in the sun, but did not succeed to his satisfaction. He afterwards, however, built a smoking-house, and cured a considerable number in it, though they were less palatable than those preserved with salt. These tasks finished, one day, being prevented from fishing by a gale of wind, he set out on his proposed expedition, taking his gun, with some provisions in a wallet he had manufactured for the purpose. He made his way towards the nearest hill, and then struck down a valley which led to the sea. Between it and the bay a high ridge of rocks extended, so he continued his course along the shore in an opposite direction. He had not gone far before he came to another ridge which he had to surmount, the coast becoming wilder and wilder as he advanced, instead of improving, as he had hoped it might do. At last he reached what he took to be the southern end of the island. Looking back he saw the slope of the single high hill which composed its chief feature. He had now great difficulty in proceeding. The cliffs which faced the sea were almost perpendicular, and the rocks over which he climbed were extremely rough. He proceeded cautiously, knowing the fearful position in which he would be placed should he meet with an accident. He saw, however, at a little distance off, a number of wild-fowl circling round the cliffs. He was certain that they had come there for the purpose of laying their eggs. Could he reach the spot, he might obtain a pleasant addition to his larder. After great labour he reached the spot, when he found himself among hundreds of birds, many of them already sitting. They screeched and quacked and scolded, pecking at his legs as he got among them. Without ceremony he quickly filled his wallet with eggs. "This will serve me as a poultry-yard for a long time to come," he thought. "I will not kill any of the old birds, but will wait till the young ones are hatched, as they are likely to be more palatable than their parents. In the meantime, I will supply myself with eggs." It was now time for him to commence his return home. He felt very tired when he reached his hut, for he had not taken so long a walk since landing on the island. To preserve his eggs, he covered them over with the grease which remained in the pot after he had boiled his pork, and then packed them away in cool, dry sand. Every day he had reason to be thankful that he had read so much, for recollecting the various methods by which others had supported themselves, he was able to supply himself with food. His garden yielded him a daily meal of either sweet potatoes, yams, cabbages, or other vegetables. He now caught more fish than at first, and also from his poultry-yard obtained a good supply of young fowls. His shoes were wearing out, and he was desirous of catching some seals, from the skins of which he might manufacture others to supply their place. At last he saw several sporting in the bay. He at once got his harpoon ready, and took post on a rock, expecting that one would before long approach him. He was not disappointed. Darting his weapon, he struck the animal, which swam off, dragging out the line at a rapid rate. He found that he had made a mistake, and was nearly losing his line and harpoon as well as the seal. Fortunately, just as it neared the end, he got a turn round a projecting piece of rock. The poor seal plunged and tumbled, and swam back to the rock to ascertain, it seemed, what had hurt it. He drew in the slack, and was thus able to secure it more completely. After a time its struggles ceased, and he dragged it to the beach. He here took off the skin, with which he hoped to make several pairs of shoes, while the flesh supplied him with a dinner of fresh meat for a couple of days; the other portions he salted, in store for future use. Stretching the hide on the ground, he dressed it with a ley formed by mixing the ashes of his fire with water. This he found would not answer completely, and after searching in the forest he discovered some bark which formed a strong tan. The seals now came on shore in large numbers. Recollecting that their skins would be of value should a ship come to the island, he determined to capture as many as he could. Arming himself with a thick club, he attacked them when asleep on the beach, and every day succeeded in knocking over a considerable number. This gave him abundant occupation; and continuing his experiments he succeeded in perfectly preserving the skins. When at length the creatures took their departure, his hut was nearly filled with the result of his industry. Day after day went rapidly by, and had he not been careful in notching his stick, he would soon have lost all count of time. CHAPTER SEVEN. Three years had passed away since Humphry landed on the island. He was startled one calm day, when fishing from a rock in the bay as he caught sight of his own countenance in the water, to observe how changed he had become. Instead of the laughing, careless, broadly-built boy with the ruddy face, which he once was, he had grown into a tall, thin young man, with a sunburnt countenance, its expression grave and thoughtful. He was not melancholy, however, nor did he ever feel out of spirits; but he had of course been thrown back on himself, while his mind was constantly occupied. He had but one book to read, but that book, above all price, had given him ample subjects for reflection. "What should I have done without this?" he often said to himself, as he opened the book with a prayer that what he was about to read might enlighten his mind. "I have heard people talk of reading their Bibles, but though I have read nothing but my Testament for three years, I every day find something fresh and interesting in it." He had often made excursions to the top of the hill, whence he could obtain a view over the surrounding ocean. It had been raining heavily during the previous day. No seals were to be caught on shore, nor fish in the water. Taking his gun, he set off, intending to go over the hill to get a shot at some wild-fowl. The wind had greatly increased; and wishing to obtain a view of the ocean with its huge foam-covered billows rolling around, he climbed to the top of the hill. As he reached it, his eye fell on a ship driving before the gale towards the rocky shore. Two of her masts were gone; the third fell while he was looking at her. Nothing could now save her from destruction, for even should her anchors be let go, they were not likely to hold for a moment. He considered whether he could render any assistance to the unhappy people on board. Too truly he feared that he could be of no use. Still he would do his best. Hurrying home, he procured the only rope he possessed, and a spar, and with these on his shoulder he hastened towards the spot at which, considering the direction the ship was driving, he thought she would strike the shore. He had scarcely reached it when he saw the ship driving on towards him on a mountain sea. The next instant down she came, crashing on a reef of rocks far away from where he stood, the foaming sea dashing over her. Several poor wretches were carried off the deck, now driven towards him, but directly afterwards carried back by the retiring surf. He could distinguish but one alone still clinging to a portion of the wreck, all the others had in a few minutes disappeared. As long as that man remained, he could not tear himself from the spot. Several hours passed by; still the man clung on, having secured himself apparently by a lashing. The storm seemed to be abating. Humphry took off his shirt, and fastening it to the end of a spar, waved it, to show the shipwrecked seaman that help was at hand if he could reach the shore. It was observed at length. The man, casting off the lashings, lowered himself into the water, and struck out for land. Humphry prepared his rope. Fixing the spar deep in the sand, and securing one end of the rope to it, he stood ready to plunge in, with the other end round his waist, to drag the man on shore should he get within his reach. How anxiously he watched! Nearer and nearer the man came. Now he was seen floating on his back, now he struck out again. A sea rolling in bore him on, but as it receded it threatened to carry him off once more. Now was the moment. Humphry dashed into the surf. The man's strength had almost failed when Humphry grasped him, and hauling himself up by the rope dragged the man out of the surf, sinking down exhausted by his side the instant he was out of its reach. Humphry was the first to recover. "If you are strong enough to accompany me to the other side of the island, friend, where I have my home, we will set off at once; but if not, I will go back and get some food for you," he said. "I shall soon be better," answered the man. "I think I could walk. Have you a companion with you?" "No," answered Humphry, surprised at the question; "I am all alone." "That's strange! What, isn't there a young lad somewhere about the island?" "No," said Humphry. "I have been here three years and have seen no human being." The man gazed into his countenance with a look of astonishment. "What is your name, then?" he asked. Humphry mentioned it. "You Mr Gurton!" he cried, pressing his hand. "I suppose it must be; and don't you know me?" Humphry looked into the man's face. It was covered with a thick beard, and his tangled hair hung over his shoulders. "You must be Ned Hadow; yet I should not have known you more than you know me. I am indeed thankful that you have been saved. But where have you been all the time?" "Greater part of it living on shore," answered Ned. "After we landed you, we took three or four prizes; but not being able to navigate the ship, we put into a convenient harbour in an island inhabited by savages. There we remained, living among them much as they did. Several of our men were killed; and at last, finding that the savages intended to cut us all off, we put to sea again. We had been knocking about for some time, and used up all our provisions, when we fell in with the gale which drove the ship on yonder rocks." Ned insisted that he could walk across the island, and with Humphry's help he was able to accomplish the journey, though nearly exhausted at the end of it. Humphry then made him lie down in his bed, while he prepared some soup and other food. Next day Ned somewhat recovered; and in the course of a week, owing to Humphry's constant attention, he looked more like his former self. "It's very dreadful to think that all the others have perished, but I am truly thankful that you have been sent to be my companion," said Humphry. "You little thought when you acted so kindly towards me by saving my life, and getting me put on shore here, that I should ever in any way be able to repay you." "I did not, Mr Gurton; but I feel that I am such a worthless fellow that my life was not worth preserving." "We are all worthless, Ned: that's what the book I read every day tells me, and I am convinced of it when I look into my own heart, and know how people in the world are generally acting." "What! have you got that book still, Mr Gurton?" asked Ned. "Yes, indeed I have, and I shall be glad to read it to you, Ned," said Humphry. "I shall like to hear it, sir, for I have not heard anything like a good word since you used to read it to me when I was sick. I had almost forgotten there is a God in heaven. I remembered that, however, when I was clinging to the wreck, and expecting every moment to be in His presence." "It's the best thing to read God's Word, and to be guided by it, when we expect to live. I hope you may be spared many years, even though we never get away from this island, and that book will serve us better than any other companion who could join us." Humphry, instead now of reading his Testament to himself, read it daily to Ned, and even while they were at work he used to repeat portions he had learned by heart. Though Ned could not read, he gained in time a good knowledge of the book, and his dark soul by degrees becoming enlightened, he understood clearly at length God's plan of salvation, and cheerfully accepted it. "You see, Ned, all things are ordered for the best," said Humphry one day, "and you must be convinced that God loves us, however little we may have loved Him. If I had remained on board the privateer, I should have become, as I was fast doing, like the rest of the unhappy crew. Though I thought it very dreadful to be left all alone on the island, I now feel that it has been the greatest blessing to me. God in His mercy also saved you, though you would have preferred remaining among the savages. Now you are happy in knowing the glorious truth that the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin; and though we may both of us wish to be once more among our fellow-men, we can live contentedly here till He thinks fit to call us out of this life." "I hope He may take me before any ship comes to the island, for if I once fell among the sort of men I have lived with all my life, I should soon again be as bad as they are," said Ned with a sigh. "Not if you sought help and protection from God's Holy Spirit," answered Humphry, "and prayed that He would keep you out of temptation." Ned was surprised to find how much Humphry had done during the time he had been alone on the island. He assisted him in all his undertakings, and they together caught enough seals to fill another large storehouse. At last, after two years had thus passed away, Ned, who had been fishing down the harbour, came hurrying back. His countenance was grave, and he looked much agitated. "I have been watching a vessel standing in for the island. She has hove to, and is sending a boat on shore. The time has come, Mr Gurton, when we must part. I dare not go back into the world, and have made up my mind to remain here. You are young, and have many years before you, and I would advise you to go, and all I ask is that you will think of me and pray for me." This announcement made Humphry even more agitated than Ned. He hurried to the spot where the boat could be seen. She made her way up the harbour. Humphry and his companion went down to meet her. An officer-like looking man stepped on shore, accompanied by another in dark clothes. They seemed much surprised at seeing Humphry and Ned. "What! are you Englishmen?" asked one of the strangers. "We only discovered the island this morning, and had no expectation of finding it inhabited." Humphry explained that they were the only inhabitants; that he had been left there some years before, and, pointing to Ned, said, "This man was afterwards wrecked on the coast, and he alone was saved from his ship." "I am Captain Summers of the _Hope_, now lying in the offing. This gentleman is the Reverend Mr Evans, a missionary, whom I am conveying to an island where he is about to settle. What is your name?" asked the officer. Humphry told him. "And my name is Tom Martin," said Ned coming forward, greatly to Humphry's surprise. "Well, my friends, it seems but a barren island. I wonder how you have managed to live here so long." Humphry briefly explained the various means by which he had procured food, and leading the way to the garden, showed them the perfect cultivation into which it had been brought. He then invited Captain Summers and Mr Evans into his hut. His Testament lay open on the table. The latter took it up, observing-- "I am glad to see, my young friend, that you have not been deprived of God's Word during your long stay here." "It has indeed been my great solace and delight," answered Humphry. "Without it I should have been miserable." "Well, my friends, I shall be most happy to receive you both on board my ship; and as I hope to sail for England in the course of a few months, you will then be able to return home." Humphry thanked the captain for his offer, which he gladly accepted. Ned looked very grave. "I am much obliged to you, sir," he said, "and though I shall be sorry to part from Mr Gurton, I am very sure that I had better stay where I am till God thinks fit to call me from this world. I have lived too long among savages, and worse than savages, to go back again and live with civilised people. If Mr Gurton will leave me his Testament, which he has taught me to read, and his gun and harpoons, it's all I ask." "No, my friend," observed Mr Evans, "man is not made to live alone. If, as I hope from what you say, you have learned to love Jesus Christ, you should try to serve Him, and endeavour to do good among your fellow-creatures. Now, as I am going to settle in an island inhabited by savages, I shall be very glad of your assistance, and if you already understand their language, which I have to learn, you may speak to them, and tell them of Him who died for them, that they may be reconciled to Him. You will thus be showing your love for Him far more than by living a life of solitude, even although you spend your days in reading His Word. Remember it is not only those who hear the Word of God, but those who hear and do it, who are His disciples." "You are right, sir," exclaimed Ned, brightening up. "My only fear if I left this was to find myself among those who would lead me back into bad ways, but I will gladly go with you--that I will, sir." As the captain was anxious to see the island, Humphry undertook to guide him and Mr Evans to the top of the hill, whence they could obtain a view over the whole of it. Before setting out, Humphry showed them the store of seal-skins. "I shall be sorry to leave these behind," he observed, "and if you can receive them on board, they will assist to pay my passage." "As to that, my friend," answered the captain, "I will very gladly send my boats to take them off, and you shall pay freight for them; but you, I am very sure, will be able to work your passage, and I hope you will find they will sell for some hundred pounds in England." "Part of them belong to my companion," observed Humphry. "No, no, Mr Gurton," said Ned. "They are all yours. Not a shilling of their value will I touch, except enough to give me a new rig-out, as I am not fit to accompany Mr Evans in these tattered old clothes of mine." "Set your mind at rest about that," said the captain. "You shall be welcome to a thorough fit out, suitable for the task you are about to undertake, and your friend Mr Gurton will require the money more than you will." Captain Summers, according to his promise, loaded his own boat with seal-skins, and sent her off to the ship with orders for the long-boat to come ashore and carry off the remainder. Meantime he and Mr Evans paid their intended visit to the hill-top. On their return Humphry took the first opportunity of drawing Ned aside, and asking why he had not given his right name. "I did give my right name, Mr Gurton," he answered. "Ned Hadow was merely a purser's name which I took when I entered on board the _Wolf_, because you see, sir, I had run from a man-of-war. Now I know better, I would only tell the truth; and so, please, call me Tom Martin in future, and I am ready to stand the consequences." Humphry and his companion were kindly received on board the _Hope_, when the good captain supplied them with new suits of clothes, which they indeed much required. The _Hope_ continued her voyage. How different was the life led on board her to that on board the _Wolf_! Captain Summers and his officers were Christian men. The crew were kindly treated; not an oath escaped the lips of any of the men, while all did their duty with cheerfulness and alacrity. The voyage was prosperous. At the end of three weeks the _Hope_ dropped her anchor in the harbour of a fine island where Mr Evans was to remain. A native missionary, who had been sent there a year before, came off to receive him, and brought him the satisfactory intelligence that a large number of the natives were anxiously looking out for his arrival. Some days were spent in landing his property, and assisting him in putting up his house, while an abundance of fresh provisions was brought off by the natives to the ship. Humphry parted from his old friend with the less regret from feeling sure that he would be well occupied, and free from the temptations he dreaded. "We shall meet again, I trust, as Captain Summers has offered me a berth as third mate of the _Hope_ on her next voyage, which he expects to make to these seas," said Humphry, as he bade him farewell. "If we don't meet here, we shall in another world, sir. And bless you, Mr Gurton, for pointing out to me the way to it," said Tom, as he wrung Humphry's hand, and tears burst from his eyes. The _Hope_ had a prosperous voyage home, during which Humphry did his utmost to fit himself for the duty he was to undertake. He had no ties in England, so he gladly again sailed in the _Hope_. Captain Summers having sold the seal-skins for a good price, judiciously invested the proceeds for him. Humphry had the satisfaction of meeting his old friend Ned, or rather Mr Martin, as he was now called, and of finding that he had been of the greatest service to Mr Evans. He never returned to England, but died at his post, labouring to the last in spreading the gospel among the natives. Humphry won the regard of Captain Summers by his steadiness and good conduct, and at the end of his third voyage he married his daughter, and soon afterwards obtained the command of a ship. When at length he was able to quit the sea and live on shore, he often used to relate to his children, among his many adventures, how he spent five years of his life alone on an island. THE END. 
37652	----	[Illustration: Cover art] [Frontispiece: AMID THE CHEERS OF THE BAND OF BRITISHERS THE ENSIGN WAS BROKEN AT THE MASTHEAD. See page 68] THE NAMELESS ISLAND A Story of some Modern Robinson Crusoes BY PERCY F. WESTERMAN _Author of "The Young Cavalier," etc._ London C. Arthur Pearson Ltd. Henrietta Street 1920 _Second Impression_ STORIES OF ADVENTURE. _UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME_ Each Volume contains Eight Full-Page Illustrations by a well-known Artist The Boys of the Otter Patrol. A Tale of the Boy Scouts. By E. Le Breton-Martin. Kiddie of the Camp. A Scouting Story of the Western Prairies. By Robert Leighton. Otters to the Rescue. A Sequel to "The Boys of the Otter Patrol." By E. Le Breton-Martin. The Clue of the Ivory Claw. By F. Haydn Dimmock. 'Midst Arctic Perils. By P. F. Westerman. The Phantom Battleship. By Rupert Chesterton. Kiddie the Scout. A Sequel to "Kiddie of the Camp." By Robert Leighton. The Lost Trooper. A Tale of the Great North-West. By F. Haydn Dimmock. The Brigand of the Air. By Christopher Beck. CONTENTS CHAPTER I. THE HURRICANE II. AGROUND III. ABANDONED IV. THE LANDING V. THE CAMP VI. THE ANIMAL THAT WOULDN'T BE RESCUED VII. THE EMBLEM OF EMPIRE VIII. "A SAIL!" IX. UNWELCOME VISITORS X. STRANGE ALLIES XI. THE FRUSTRATED SACRIFICE XII. AT BAY XIII. ELLERTON TO THE RESCUE XIV. ROUTING THE SAVAGES XV. A KNIFE-THRUST IN THE DARK XVI. THE GALE XVII. BACK TO THE ISLAND XVIII. A SURPRISE FOR THE INVADERS XIX. THE PRISONER'S ESCAPE XX. THE ENEMY IS CORNERED XXI. THE BUCCANEERS' CAVE XXII. THE TREASURE CHAMBER XXIII. "A SAIL! A SAIL!" XXIV. A FALSE AND A REAL ALARM XXV. THE GREAT INVASION XXVI. A GREAT DISASTER XXVII. THE LAST STAND XXVIII. THE RESCUE LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Amid the cheers of the band of Britishers the ensign was broken at the masthead . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . _Frontispiece_ Ellerton was only just in time. Another dazzling flash enabled him to see the helpless form of the crippled seaman Andy, finding the bull close to his heels, gripped a rope and swung himself into a position of comparative safety The chief's canoe was paddled slowly towards the shore Crash! fair in the centre of the lightly built fifty-feet hull struck the sharp stem "A sail! a sail!" he exclaimed breathlessly A huge turtle had crawled across the beach and ... had set the alarm bell ringing With fierce shouts the savages tore down the path straight for the barricade THE NAMELESS ISLAND CHAPTER I THE HURRICANE The _San Martin_, a single-screw cargo steamer of 3050 tons, was on her way from Realejo to Tahiti. Built on the Clyde twenty years back, this Peruvian-owned tramp was no longer in her prime. Since passing out of the hands of her British owners, neglect had lessened her speed, while the addition of various deck-houses, to suit the requirements of the South American firm under whose house-flag she sailed, had not increased her steadiness. Captain Antonio Perez, who was in command, was a short, thick-set man of almost pure Spanish descent, swarthy, greasy, and vain--combining all the characteristics, good, bad, and indifferent, of the South American skipper. As part owner of the _San Martin_ he was glad of the opportunity of adding to the vessel's earnings, so he had willingly agreed to take five passengers as far as Tahiti. The five passengers were Mr. McKay, his son Andrew, Terence Donaghue, Fanshaw Ellerton, and Quexo; but before relating the circumstances in which they found themselves on board the _San Martin_, it will be necessary to introduce them to our readers. Mr. McKay, a tall, erect Queenslander, of Scottish descent, had, through the death of a near relative, migrated from Australia to one of the Central American republics in order to test the possibilities of an estate which had been left him, before putting it into the market. Andrew McKay, or Andy, as he was called, was a well-set-up young fellow of nineteen, broad-shouldered and straight-limbed, with a fine head surmounted by a crop of auburn hair. Terence Donaghue, the son of an Irish Canadian, was about Andy's age, and was on a visit to the McKays. He was impulsive both in manner and speech, high-spirited, and good-natured. Fanshaw Ellerton, a lad of sixteen, was supposed to be serving his apprenticeship on board the _Tophet_, a barque of 2200 tons, of the port of Liverpool. He was in reality a deserter--but in circumstances beyond his control. Taking advantage of general leave being granted to the crew of the _Tophet_, Ellerton had gone "up-country," and, before he actually realised it, he found himself besieged in Mr. McKay's ranch of San Eugenio. One of those revolutions that occur in many of the South Central American states had broken out, and the rebels, thinking that Mr. McKay's house and estate would prove an easy and profitable prize, promptly attempted to take and plunder San Eugenio. In spite of a vigorous defence, it seemed as if numbers would gain the day, till Quexo, a mulatto lad on the ranch, contrived to steal through the rebels' lines and bring timely aid, but not before Mr. McKay had been severely wounded. But, so far as his Central American affairs were concerned, Mr. McKay was practically ruined, and he took steps to return to Queensland with the least possible delay. Andy, of course, was to accompany him, while Terence arranged to go as far as Tahiti, whence he could take steamer to Honolulu and on to Victoria, British Columbia. "Never mind, old chap," exclaimed Andy, when Ellerton made the startling yet not altogether unexpected discovery that the _Tophet_ had sailed without him. "We've stuck together through thick and thin these last few days, and it seems as if we have been chums for years. I know the governor will be only too glad to have you with us, and no doubt you can pick up your ship at Sydney." Nor did Mr. McKay forget Quexo's devotion; and, to the mulatto's great delight, he was engaged as servant at the--to him--princely salary of five dollars a month. A fever-stricken coast was no place for a wounded man, hence Mr. McKay's anxiety to sail as soon as possible; and since ten days or more would elapse before one of the regular line of steamers left for Honolulu, passages were booked on the Peruvian tramp steamer _San Martin_. * * * * * "What a scratch crew!" remarked Terence, pointing at the swarm of olive-featured Peruvians who were scrubbing down decks with the aid of the ship's hose. "But even they have one advantage over most of the crews of the mercantile marine," replied Ellerton. "They are all of one nationality. Take the _Tophet's_ crew--there are only eight British seamen before the mast; the rest are Germans, Finns, and Swedes." "That is a crying scandal," interrupted Mr. McKay, who was resting in a deck-chair a few feet from the head of the poop-ladder. "England, the principal carrier of the world, has to rely upon foreigners to man her merchant ships. And the reason is not far to seek," he added. The _San Martin_ was in the Doldrums. Not a ripple disturbed the surface of the ocean, save the white wake of the steamer as she pounded along at a steady nine knots. Overhead the sun shone fiercely in a cloudless sky. "How deep is it here?" asked Terence, leaning over the rail. "Do you know, Ellerton?" asked Mr. McKay. "No, sir; I had no opportunity of examining a chart." "It's approximately three thousand fathoms. Between the Galapagos and the Marquesas is a vast sunken plateau. Sunlight never penetrates these great depths; probably all is dark beyond two hundred fathoms." "And are there fish or marine animals in the bed of the ocean?" "No one knows. Possibly there are some marine animals capable of withstanding the enormous pressure, for it may be taken for granted that at three thousand fathoms the pressure per square inch is about three tons." "Is it always calm in the Doldrums?" continued Terence, for he had never before "crossed the line." "Often for weeks at a stretch. What's your experience of these, Ellerton?" "Three weeks with the canvas hanging straight down from the yards. If you threw anything overboard it would be alongside for days. I can assure you, Terence, that I am jolly glad we're on board a steamer." "How did you get out of it?" continued the young Canadian, eager for further information. "By one of the frequent and sudden hurricanes that spring up in the belt of the calms; but even that was looked upon as a slice of luck." Thus the days passed. Conversation was the chief means of passing the time, although the lads derived considerable amusement from their efforts to teach Quexo English. Reading was out of the question, for the ship's library consisted of only a few Spanish books of little interest to Mr. McKay and Andy, while to Terence and Ellerton they were unfathomable. On the evening of the fourth day there was an ominous change in the weather. The sun, setting between high-banked, ill-defined clouds, gave out bright copper-coloured rays that betokened much wind at no distant date; while from the south-east a long, heavy swell, although far from land, gave further indications of change. "How is the glass, Captain?" asked Mr. McKay, as Captain Perez emerged from the companion and began to make his way for'ard to the bridge. The captain shrugged his shoulders. "Low, señor. I like it not." "What an admission," exclaimed Mr. McKay, as the officer mounted the ladder. "Fancy a British skipper replying like that! Here, Andy, you are not shaky on the pins like I am; just present my compliments to Captain Perez and ask him to tell you how the barometer stands. I'm rather curious on that point." "You appear to have a good knowledge of seamanship, sir," remarked Ellerton, as young McKay made his way to the bridge. "Well, I must confess I have," admitted Mr. McKay. "Years ago I spent some months on a pearl-fisher in Torres Strait; but that's a long story. Some day, perhaps, I'll tell you more about it." "Seven hundred and forty millimetres--a fall of twenty-two millimetres in eight hours," announced Andy, reading the figures from a slip of paper, on which he had noted the captain's reply. "By Jove!" exclaimed Mr. McKay. "That's equivalent to a trifle over 29.1 inches. We're in for something, especially with that deck cargo," as he pointed to the towering baulks of mahogany which were stowed amidships. "Are they doing anything for'ard?" he continued. "The men are placing additional lashings over the hatchways." "Pity they didn't man the derrick and heave some of that stuff overboard," replied Mr. McKay, eyeing the timber with concern. "However, it will be dark in another quarter of an hour, so we had better turn in and get some sleep while we are able." It was shortly after midnight when Ellerton awoke, conscious that something was amiss. He had slept through severe gales in the old _Tophet_ when she was scudding under close-reefed canvas before the wind or lying hove-to in a hurricane in Magellan Straits; but there was something in the peculiar motion of the _San Martin_ that roused his seaman's instincts. It was blowing. He could hear the nerve-racking clank of the engines as the propeller raced in the air, and the corresponding jar as the ship's stern was engulfed in the following seas. That was a mere nothing; it was the excessive heel and slow recovery of the vessel which told him that things were not as they should be. Hastily dressing, he was about to leave the cabin when a hollow groan caught his ear. It was pitch dark, for the electric lights had failed, and the after part of the ship was in a state of absolute blackness. "What's up, Terence?" Terence was like the sufferer on the Channel mail boat. He was past the stage when he was afraid he might die, and was entering into the stage when he was afraid he might not. Ellerton had suffered the agonies of sea-sickness before, so, knowing that the unhappy victim would prefer to suffer in solitude, he went outside. In the alley-way he collided with the second mate, who, clad in dripping oilskins, was returning from his watch on deck. Ere the two could disengage, a heavy list sent them both rolling against one of the starboard cabins, and, at the same time, Andy, who, unable to sleep, was on the point of making his way over to Ellerton's berth, stepped upon the writhing forms and promptly joined them on the floor of the alley-way. A number of choice expressions in English and Spanish, drowned by the thunder of the "combers" on deck, arose from the struggling trio, till at length Ellerton disentangled himself and succeeded in pulling his chum from under the form of the second mate. "Isn't it awful, this gale?" gasped Andy, whose right eye was rapidly closing from the effects of an accidental knock from the Peruvian's sea-boot. "Yes, it's a bit thick," replied Ellerton, whose knuckles were bleeding through coming into contact with the brass tread of the cabin door. "But let's follow this chap up and get him to let us have a candle; then we can see what we are doing." As he spoke, a vivid flash of lightning revealed the Peruvian, still in his wet oilskins, stretched at full length on his bunk, his head buried in the blankets. He was in a state of absolute funk! A swinging candlestick was affixed to the bulkhead, and Ellerton was soon able to procure a light. Andy glanced at the barometer. The mercury stood at 715 millimetres (28.15 in.)--a fall of nearly an inch since six o'clock on the previous evening. "Can't we go on deck?" asked Andy, as the _San Martin_ slowly recovered from a dangerous list. "It's rotten being cooped up here." "You would stand a jolly good chance of being swept overboard," replied Ellerton. "Everything is battened down, and we can only get out by the sliding hatch communicating with the----" His words were interrupted by a succession of heavy thuds, plainly audible above the roar of the wind and waves, while the shouts of the frantic seamen showed that something had broken adrift. Taking advantage of the lift of the vessel as she threw her stern clear of a mountainous sea, Ellerton opened the steel sliding doorway sufficiently wide for the two chums to gain the poop. Staggering along the slippery, heaving deck, they reached the lee side of the deck-house, where, gripping the stout iron stanchion-rail, they awaited the next flash of lightning. They had not long to wait. A brilliant, prolonged succession of flashes dazzled their eyes, the electric fluid playing on the wet planks and foam-swept waist of the plunging vessel. The reason for the commotion was now apparent. One of the mainmast derricks had broken adrift, and, charging from side to side like a gigantic flail, had smashed the rail, crushed two steel ventilator-cowls, and utterly demolished two boats in the davits. The crew, trying to secure the plunging mass of metal, were working with mad desperation, frequently up to their waists in water. Two of the unfortunate men, crushed by the sweep of the derrick, had been hurled over the side, while another, his leg bent under him, lay helpless in the lee-scuppers, with only a few inches of broken bulwarks to prevent him from sharing the fate of his comrades. "Stand by, Andy!" shouted Ellerton. "Take a couple of turns round this bollard," and throwing the end of a coil of signal-halliards to his friend, he made the other end fast round his waist and jumped down the poop-ladder. He was only just in time. Another dazzling flash enabled him to see the helpless form of the crippled seaman, and as he wound his arms round the man's waist in an iron grip, a seething cataract of foam swept the deck. [Illustration: ELLERTON WAS ONLY JUST IN TIME. ANOTHER DAZZLING FLASH ENABLED HIM TO SEE THE HELPLESS FORM OF THE CRIPPLED SEAMAN] The ship, stunned by the force of the gigantic billow, listed till her deck took an angle of 45 degrees, or more. To the young apprentice, held only by a single turn of the thin signal-halliard, it seemed as if the ship were already taking her downward plunge, for all round him surged the torrent of solid water, his position rendered doubly horrible by the intense blackness of the night. Still he held on like grim death to the disabled seaman, the thin rope cutting into his breastbone like a steel wire. His feet were unable to find a hold; the last fragment of the bulwarks had vanished, and only the rope held him and his burden from a prolonged death in the surging ocean. Quivering like an aspen leaf, the stricken vessel slowly resumed an even keel, and then began the correspondingly sickening list to windward. Another flash revealed the charging derrick whirling over his head; then, as he felt the rope slacken and himself slipping across the deck, his hand managed to grasp the foot of the poop-ladder. Almost breathless by his exertions, and half suffocated through being so long under water, Ellerton retained sufficient presence of mind to clamber up the ladder, Andy assisting his burden by steadily and strongly hauling on the rope; then, as the _San Martin_ once more began her sickening roll to leeward, he sank exhausted to the deck, safe under the lee of the deck-house, with the Peruvian still in his grip. That last tremendous breaker had been the means of saving the ship, though at the time it had threatened to end her career. The dangerous deck-load of mahogany baulks had been wrenched from its securing lashings, and had been swept overboard; while the disabled derrick, coming into contact with the donkey-engine, had snapped off short. At the same time the waves had swept four more of the crew to their last account, and the remainder, exhausted and disheartened by their misfortunes, had gained the shelter of the fo'c'sle. Securing themselves by the rope, Andy and Ellerton--the latter having passed a bight round the now conscious and groaning seaman--hung on with desperation. From their comparatively sheltered position they could gain occasional glimpses of the bridge, where Captain Perez, the first mate, and a couple of seamen stood braving the elements, their sou'-westers just visible above the top of the canvas storm-dodgers. At one moment, silhouetted against the glare of the lightning, their heads could be seen against a background of wind-torn clouds; at another the vessel would be so deep in the trough of the waves that the crests ahead appeared to rise high above the rigid figures on their lofty, swaying perch. "Will it hold?" shouted Andy above the hiss of the foam and the howling of the wind, as a few tons of water struck the weather side of the deck-house. "I think so," replied Ellerton. "It would have gone before this if not." "Then let's put the man inside. We can then go below and get the steward or some of the crew to look after him." Accordingly they dragged the groaning seaman into the deck-house, and, wedging him up with cushions to prevent him from playing the part of Neptune's shuttlecock, they left him. Seizing their opportunity, the two friends contrived to gain the saloon, where they found Mr. McKay, who had succeeded in procuring and lighting a pair of cabin-lamps. "Thick, isn't it?" remarked Andy's father. Then: "What have you fellows been up to?" for both were wet to the skin, while Andy's eye was black and green, and Ellerton's forehead was bleeding from a superficial cut. "Oh, nothing much," replied Ellerton modestly. "We were caught in the tail end of a comber. The deck cargo's gone, though." "That's good news," replied Mr. McKay. "Though I fancy the worst is yet to come. I suppose Captain Perez is steering to the south'ard to try and avoid the main path of the hurricane?" "I haven't had the chance of looking at the compass," replied Ellerton. "But I must go for'ard and get help for the poor fellow in the deck-house." "What fellow is that?" asked Mr. McKay of his son as the apprentice disappeared along the darkened alley-way. While Andy was relating with whole-hearted praise the story of his companion's bravery, Ellerton was feeling his way along the narrow, heaving passage that communicated with the fore part of the ship. At length he came to the engine-room hatchway. Down below he could see the mass of complicated machinery throbbing in the yellow glimmer of the oil lamps, while the hot atmosphere was filled with a horrible odour of steam and burning oil. Here, at any rate, the men were doing their duty right manfully, for he could see the engineers, gripping the shiny rails as they leant over the swaying, vibrating engines, calmly oiling the bearings of the plunging rods and cranks. The "chief," his eyes fixed upon the indicators, was alertly awaiting the frequently recurring clank which denoted that the propeller was racing. For a few moments Ellerton stood there fascinated, the spectacle of an engine-room in a vessel in a storm was new to the lad, whose experience of the sea was confined to a sailing barque. Suddenly above the monotonous clank of the piston-rods came a hideous grinding sound. The cylinders began to give out vast columns of steam, as the engines ran at terrifying speed. Through the vapour Ellerton could discern the "chief," galvanised into extraordinary alertness, make a rush for a valve, while his assistants, shouting and gesticulating, dashed hither and thither amid the confined spaces between the quivering machinery. The main shaft had broken, and the _San Martin_ was helpless in the teeth of the hurricane. CHAPTER II AGROUND For a brief instant Ellerton hesitated; ought he to return to his friends or make his way for'ard? The _San Martin_, losing steerage way, was rolling horribly in the trough of the sea; any instant she might turn turtle. There was a rush of terrified firemen from the grim inferno of the stokeholds; the engineers, having taken necessary precautions against an explosion of the boilers, hastened to follow their example, scrambling in a struggling mass between the narrow opening of the partially closed hatchway. Clearly Ellerton had no means of gaining the deck in the rear of that human press; so lurching and staggering along the alley-way he made his way aft, where he met Mr. McKay, who, assisted by Andy, was about to go on deck. Terence, looking a picture of utter misery in the yellow light of the saloon, and Quexo, his olive skin ashy grey with fear, had already joined the others. "Come on, Hoppy," shouted Andy cheerfully. "Give me a hand with the governor. Terence, you had better stay here." Carefully watching their chance, the two lads managed to help Mr. McKay to the shelter of the poop deck-house, and they were about to return for Donaghue and the mulatto when they encountered Captain Perez and the first mate. Both were in a state bordering on frenzy, the captain rolling his eyes and calling for the protection of a thousand saints, while the mate was mumbling mechanically the last compass course, "Sur oeste, cuarto oeste" (S.W. by W.). The cowardly officers had deserted their posts! In an instant Fanshaw Ellerton saw his chance--and took it. "Stop him, Andy!" he shouted, setting the example by throwing himself upon the Peruvian skipper. The man did not resist; he seemed incapable of doing anything. "Don't bother about the other," hissed the apprentice. "Make this chap come with us to the bridge. I'll be the skipper and he'll be the figurehead." The two chums dragged the captain across the heaving deck, up the swaying monkey-ladder, and gained the lofty bridge. Ellerton glanced to windward. His seamanship, poor though it was, began to assert itself. The wind was going down slightly, but, veering to the nor'ard, was causing a horrible jumble of cross-seas--not so lofty as the mountainous waves a few hours ago, but infinitely more trying. The _San Martin_, swept on bow, quarter, and broadside, rolled and pitched, the white cascades pouring from her storm-washed decks; yet Ellerton realised that she possessed a considerable amount of buoyancy by the way she shook herself clear of the tons of water that poured across her. The wheel was deserted. The steersman, finding that his officers had fled and that the vessel carried no way, had followed his superior's example. Cowering under the lee of the funnel casing were about twelve of the crew, including the bo'sun and quartermaster. "Tell the captain," yelled Ellerton to his chum, "to order those men to set the storm staysail, if they value their hides." Andy interpreted the order, which the captain, gaining a faint suspicion of confidence, communicated to the bo'sun. The bare chance of saving their lives urged the men into action. Unharmed, they succeeded in gaining the fo'c'sle, and in less than ten minutes the stiff canvas was straining on the forestay. Gathering way, the _San Martin_, no longer rolling, pounded sluggishly through the foam-flecked sea. Ellerton would not risk setting any canvas aft; he was content to let the vessel drive. "Ask him whether we have plenty of sea room--whether there is any danger of running ashore during the next hour or so?" Andy put the question. "No, señor; there is plenty of sea room." That was enough. The apprentice cared not what course he steered, so long as he kept the waves well on the quarter. When the hurricane was over they could carry on till they fell in with some passing vessel and got a tow into port. "That's right. Tell him to take his watch below," continued the apprentice. "And you might get hold of some oilskins, Andy." Obediently the skipper left the bridge, and, steeling himself for a long trick at the helm, Ellerton grasped the spokes of the wheel with firm hands. At length the day broke, and with it a regular deluge of rain, pouring from an unbroken mass of scudding, deep blue clouds. The rain beat down the vicious crests, but the sea still ran "mountains high." About noon Mr. McKay expressed his intention of joining Ellerton on the bridge, and assisted by his son he left the shelter of the poop. From the foot of the poop-ladder to that of the bridge a life-line had been rigged to give the protection that the shattered bulwarks no longer afforded. When midway between the two ladders, a roll of the vessel caused Mr. McKay to lurch heavily towards the rope. His wounded limb proved unequal to the strain, and falling heavily upon the main rope his weight broke the lashings that held it to the ring-bolt. Before Andy could save him, Mr. McKay had crashed against the main hatchway. "Hurt?" asked Andy anxiously. "I'm afraid so," replied his father, manfully suppressing a groan. "My leg is broken." By dint of considerable exertion the sufferer was taken back to the saloon, and the ship's surgeon, who had been routed out of his cabin, pronounced the injury to be a double fracture. Ellerton, his whole attention fixed upon keeping the vessel on her course, had neither observed nor heard the noise of the accident, and great was his concern when Andy mounted the bridge and informed him of the catastrophe. "I think I can leave the command," he remarked. "No doubt that yellow-skinned johnny has recovered his nerve by now." Five minutes later Captain Antonio Perez gained the bridge. He had lost his suave, self-confident manner, and his general appearance showed a change for the better in his moral and physical condition. Yet, without a word of thanks to the English lad who had saved the situation, he called up two of the seamen, and placed them at the wheel. "He might have been a bit civil over the business," remarked Andy. "Poor brute! I dare say he feels his position pretty acutely. I only hope he won't break down in a hurry," replied Ellerton. For the next two days the _San Martin_ fled before the storm, the trysail keeping her steady and checking any tendency to broach-to. The wind had increased to almost its former violence on the evening of the first day, but the vessel was then close on the outer edge of the storm-path. Mr. McKay, who was suffering considerably, bore his injuries gamely, while Terence, who had recovered from his bout of sea-sickness, began to take a new interest in life. Quexo, however, still lay on the floor of the stateroom, refusing to eat or drink, and groaning dismally at intervals. "I reckon he's sorry he followed the Americanos across the wide river that tastes of salt," said Terence, quoting the Nicaraguan way of speaking of the sea. "Even I can feel sorry for him." "That's a good sign," remarked Andy. "Yesterday you hadn't the pluck to feel sorry for yourself." On the morning of the fourth day of the storm the wind piped down considerably, and the Peruvian captain ordered the fore and aft canvas to be set. The engine-room staff also began to take steps to attempt the temporary repairing of the shafting, and had already removed a considerable portion of the plating of the tunnel. As yet the sky was completely overcast. At noon the officers, sextant in hand, waited in vain for an opportunity of "shooting the sun." Where the ship was, no one on board knew, though it was agreed that she was driven several miles to the south'ard of her proper course. The weather began to improve as night drew on. The setting sun was just visible in a patch of purple sky, showing that fine weather might be expected from that quarter. The glass, too, was rising; not rapidly, but gradually and surely. "Now for a good night's rest," exclaimed Andy, for throughout the gale the lads had turned in "all standing." But Andy was doomed to be disappointed, for at four bells in the middle watch (2 a.m.) a sudden crash roused the sleepers from their berths. The _San Martin_ was hard and fast aground. CHAPTER III ABANDONED Hastily assuring the helpless Mr. McKay that they would soon return and tell him how things really stood, the three lads rushed on deck. It needed no seaman's instinct to tell that the _San Martin_ was doomed. Scudding before the lessening gale, she had been lifted on the crest of a huge roller and dropped fairly on the rocks. Her forward part, trembling under the tremendous blows of the waves, was hard and fast aground, while her after part, lifting to the heave of the ocean, assisted, like a gigantic lever, in the destruction of her bows. Above the roar of the waves, the howling of the wind, and the shattering of iron plates, arose the frantic shouts of the crew. Already demoralised by their trying experiences in the gale, the last vestiges of discipline had vanished. In the darkness, for now no favouring lightning flash came to throw a light upon the scene, the Peruvian crew rushed madly for the boats, fighting, cursing, entreating, and imploring the saints. For'ard a succession of rapid cracks, as the trysail, having burst its sheets, was flogging itself to ribbons, added to the din, till the foremast, buckling close to the deck, crashed over the side. "Come on," shouted Andy, and even then his voice sounded faint in the midst of the terrifying uproar, "let's get the pater on deck." Ellerton shook his head. "Better stop where he is. What chance do you think these fellows will have?" and he pointed to the struggling mass of frenzied seamen as they clambered into the boats. Already the cutter, still in the davits, was crowded, the men striving to swing her clear with oars and stretchers, while others were scrambling up the boat ladders. Round swung the foremost davit. The men who had already climbed into her began to lower away the boat-falls. A sudden lurch sent the cutter, already at a dangerous angle, crashing into the ship's side. The lower block of the foremost fall became disentangled, and, amidst a chorus of shrieks, the boat swung stern in the air, shooting its human freight into the surging waters. The next instant a huge wave dashed the swaying cutter into matchwood, the wind drowning the death shouts of a score of hapless victims. Heedless of the fate of their comrades, the remainder of the crew made a headlong rush for one of the quarter boats. Being more to lee'ard, for the _San Martin_ had struck with the wind on her starboard quarter, this boat seemed to stand little chance. Ellerton could hear the captain's voice, urging the men to swing the boat clear. The apprentice sprang towards the falls. "You are not going to throw away your life, are you?" shouted Andy, grasping him by the shoulder. "No; but I'm going to give those fellows a chance. Stand by that rope, take a turn round that cleat, and lower when I give the word." The last of the Peruvian seamen had scrambled into the boat. Not one of these cared who was left; all that they knew was that a few remained to man the falls, but in the darkness they were unaware that it was the British lads who stayed to help them. "Lower!" yelled Ellerton. Swiftly the ropes ran through the blocks. The crest of a wave received the frail boat, and, more by luck than by good management, the seamen contrived to disengage the falls. Then the oars splashed, and the next instant the boat was lost to sight in the darkness. For a brief instant the chums stood in silence, grasping one of the now burdenless davits. They were alone--a crippled man, three lads, and a native boy--upon an abandoned vessel that threatened every moment to part amidships. Where they were they had no possible knowledge. The ship was aground, but whether on an isolated rock, or, what was more than likely, upon the edge of an encircling reef, they knew not. They must wait till daylight--if they were fated to see the dawn of another day--but they were determined that the anxious period of waiting should not be passed in idleness. Returning to the cabin where Mr. McKay was lying in suspense, awaiting news of their hazardous position, the lads briefly explained what had happened during their absence on deck. "We must hope for the best," observed the invalid. "And, after that, we stand a better chance than those in the boat. Even if those poor fellows escape being dashed to death upon a rock-bound shore, or being engulfed in the waves, they'll have a terrible time. No water or provisions, no compass--a thousand tortures before they reach land or are picked up by a passing craft." "I think the seas are getting less heavy," said Andy. "Is it because the tide is falling?" "The tide may have something to do with it," replied Mr. McKay; "though the rise and fall is barely four feet." "Our stern seems to be settling," said Ellerton. "The ship doesn't appear quite so lively." "That may be because the water is pouring into the after-hold," remarked Andy. "In that case the vessel is settling on the bottom; otherwise she would sink. That's another point in our favour, and it often happens that there is deep water close to the reef," said the apprentice. "But let's to work. Terence, you know where the steward's pantry is. Take a lamp and fetch up as much stuff as you can carry. Andy, will you please take Quexo with you and bring up a couple of barricoes of water?" While they were thus engaged, Ellerton collected five lifebelts, one of which he proceeded to fasten round Mr. McKay's body. "We may want them, sir; but, on the other hand, we may not. In any case, if there is an island under our lee we had better wear these, especially if we have to land through the surf." "I fancy I shall have some difficulty in getting through the surf," replied Mr. McKay with a grim smile. "Never fear, sir; we'll pull you through," was the determined assurance. Presently Andy and the mulatto returned, having found and secured a supply of the precious fluid. "The fore-hold and the engine-room are flooded," reported the former, "and I think there's a hole on the starboard quarter. But I believe there's some of the crew up for'ard--I heard them groaning." "Let's go and see," replied Ellerton, buckling on a lifebelt and picking up a lantern. "Be careful, lads," cautioned Mr. McKay. "Trust us," answered Andy, likewise putting on a belt. "We need not wait for Terence." "Why, it's not half so rough," he continued as they gained the deck, which had settled to a list of less than ten degrees, and no longer lifted as the rollers swept past. "See, very few of the waves break over the ship." "It's a bad job those cowardly beggars pushed off," replied Ellerton. "They would have done better to have waited. But listen!" Above the moaning of the wind came the unmistakable sound of a groan. "It's down there," exclaimed Andy, pointing to a battened-down hatchway. "There's no harm in opening it now," replied his companion, casting off the lashings and unbolting the heavy iron slide. "Now, then, down you go." Andy, holding the lantern well behind his head, slowly descended, but at two steps from the bottom of the ladder his feet encountered water. At the same time a deafening bellow echoed in the confined space. "Great snakes!" he exclaimed, "it's an ox!" "Poor brute, it's nearly drowned, and half starved into the bargain. And here is a pen full of sheep. I wonder where they keep the fodder?" "Here's some pressed hay," announced Andy after a short examination. "And I don't think the salt water has touched it." "Throw some down in that corner," continued his companion, pointing to a part of the flat that the sea, by reason of the ship's list, had not reached. "We'll let the brutes loose; they can't do much damage." "Now set to, lads," exclaimed Mr. McKay, when they returned to the saloon, and found Terence with a regular store of provisions--the loot of the steward's pantry. "Make a good meal, for our future movements are uncertain." "It will be light in another hour," remarked Andy. "And the sea's going down," chimed in the apprentice. "And our spirits are rising," added Terence. "You speak for yourself, Terry, my boy," replied Andy, laughing. "Your spirits were low enough a few days ago." All hands set to with a will, for even Quexo had recovered his former appetite. "This storm has lasted longer than usual," remarked Mr. McKay. "It was of more than ordinary severity. Still, I've known similar instances, and within three hours of the height of the hurricane the wind has died away to a flat calm." "Then we shall be able to take to the boat almost immediately after daylight." "Is there one left?" "Two. I think one is stove in, but the other seems sound." "A long voyage in an open boat on the ocean is no light matter," replied Mr. McKay. "If we were in the latitude of the Trades the task would be easier; but here we are, I imagine, in a zone of calms alternating with violent hurricanes. The best thing we can do is to land on the island--if we are near one, as I firmly believe is the case--and bring ashore as many of the ship's stores as we can. Then, if not sighted by any passing craft, we can set to work and deck in one of the boats, provision her, and shape a course for the nearest trading station. By the time the boat is ready I trust I shall be firmer on my feet." "Do you hear that, Quexo?" asked Andy. "You may be ashore in a few hours." Quexo grinned approvingly. He had had enough of the sea. "Don't build up his hopes too high," continued Mr. McKay. "Even if the weather continues fine, it may be days before we can effect a landing." "Why?" "Because after these hurricanes, although the open sea is comparatively calm, a heavy ground swell sets in on shore. A boat would certainly be capsized, unless there happens to be a shelter formed by a barrier reef of coral. But now, up on deck. It will be daylight in less than ten minutes." Eagerly the lads ran up the companion, and what a sight met their gaze as the tropical day quickly mastered the long hours of darkness! The _San Martin_ lay on the outer edge of a long, level reef of coral, against which the surf still hammered, throwing up clouds of white spray. Less than fifty yards from the port quarter was a gap in the barrier, giving entrance to the lagoon. The doomed ship had missed the opening by half her own length. She lay with her bows pointed diagonally towards the reef. Her funnel and foremast had gone by the board, while she showed unmistakable signs of breaking in two, for her bow and stern had "sagged" till amidships her port side was flush with the water, while, correspondingly, her starboard side, owing to the ship's list, was but five feet higher. But it was neither the ship nor the reef that attracted the castaways' attention. Barely a quarter of a mile away was an island, rugged and precipitous, the highest point towering a thousand feet above the level of the ocean. In several places the ground sloped towards the sea, the valley being thickly covered with luxuriant foliage, while for a distance of nearly a mile was a strand of dazzling whiteness, upon which the sheltered waters of the lagoon lapped as gently as the ripples of a mill pond in a summer's breeze. Elsewhere, so far as could be seen, the rocks rose sheer from the sea. "Any sign of the boat?" asked Andy. "No; but I'll get a glass," replied Ellerton, and swarming up the stanchion of the bridge--for the ladder had been swept away--he gained the chart-house. From his elevated position he swept the shore with the telescope, but no trace of the boat was to be seen. Neither, so far as he could judge, was the island inhabited. On rejoining his comrades, the young apprentice next directed his attention to the two remaining boats. One, a gig, was, as he had surmised, stove in, three of the planks being shattered. For the time being she was useless, though, he reflected, she might be patched up at some future date. The other, a 23-ft. cutter, was still secured to the boat-booms, and was practically uninjured. Her size and weight would, he knew, be a severe drawback when the time came to hoist her outboard. "I vote we bring your pater up on deck, Andy," said he. "We must have him out of the saloon sooner or later. The sooner the better, I think, because he can, if we place him on a pile of cushions close to the break of the poop, direct operations." It was a long and tedious task. Mr. McKay was no featherweight, and his injured limb had to be carefully handled. Moreover, the companion ladder was steep and narrow. At length Ellerton solved the difficulty by procuring one of the men's mess tables, nailing a strut to one end, against which the victim steadied himself by his sound leg while he was stretched at full length on the board. On this improvised sleigh four pairs of strong arms dragged the patient up the steep stairway and on to the poop deck. "What do you think of that, sir?" asked Ellerton, pointing to the island of refuge. "Isn't it superb?" "It is," assented Mr. McKay. "I hope we'll find it so, for we will have to throw ourselves upon its hospitality for a few weeks." "Do you know its name, sir?" continued the apprentice. "No; has it one?" was the astonished reply. "The Nameless Island," announced Ellerton. "Now, lads, three cheers for the Nameless Island!" CHAPTER IV THE LANDING This burst of high spirits showed how light-hearted the castaways were in the face of difficulties, for what lay before them and how they were to reach the island required all their powers of thought and action. "How do you propose to get the cutter over the side?" asked Mr. McKay. "By means of one of the derricks," replied Ellerton promptly. "Quite so; but where is the power required to turn the winches to come from? We've no steam at our command, you know, and these winches are not adapted to manual power." The apprentice's face clouded; he thought for a few minutes, then-- "We can top one of the derricks and rig up a tackle, sir." "Good!" replied Mr. McKay. "But what is the weight of the boat?" "Ours on the _Tophet_ weighed twelve hundredweight; this one is about the same size." "Then rig a gun tackle, and the four of you will manage the job, I think." Accordingly two large double blocks were obtained and the rope rove ready for use. One of the blocks was secured to the cud of the derrick, which was then hoisted to an angle of about forty-five degrees. This took time, but at length everything was ready for the crucial test. "Now, all together!" The three lads and the mulatto tailed on to the rope. The blocks squeaked as the strain began to tell; the cutter began to lift, then--crash! Flat on their backs fell the four lads; high in the air jerked the disengaged lower block. The slings to which it had been fastened had snapped. Slowly the victims regained their feet, Andy rubbing a tender portion of his anatomy, Terence gasping for breath, for Andy's head had well-nigh winded him. Ellerton was clapping his hands to a rapidly rising bump on the back of his head, while Quexo, whose skull was as hard as iron, was hopping all over the deck, rubbing his shins, that had saved the apprentice's head at the mulatto's expense. "Try again, boys!" shouted Andy. "Everything on board this blessed craft seems rotten!" A new span was placed in position, and the tackle again manned, and this time their efforts were crowned with success. The cutter rose slowly in the air, till it hung fire five feet above the shattered bulwarks. "Belay, there! Man the guy-rope!" The derrick swung outboard, till the cutter was poised above the water and well clear of the sloping sides of the hull. "Lower away handsomely." Slowly the boat dipped, till at length she rode, sheltered under the lee of her stranded parent, upon the bosom of the ocean. "Capital!" exclaimed Mr. McKay, as his son swarmed down the rope, disengaged the tackle, and allowed the cutter a generous length of painter. Then the work of loading her was begun. It was decided that for the first trip nothing more than was absolutely necessary for immediate use was to be taken, until it was settled where their camp was to be fixed, and whether the island had any inhabitants. "A small barrico of water will be sufficient, though I am certain there are springs amongst those trees," said Ellerton. His sense of responsibility was hourly increasing. "A barrel of flour, some tinned goods, canvas and rope for a tent." "Not forgetting hatchets, knives, and firearms," added Mr. McKay. "Firearms?" "Aye; one never knows how the natives--if there be natives on the island--will greet us. Most of the Pacific Islanders are fairly peaceable, thanks to missionary enterprise and the fear of a visit from a warship; yet cannibalism still exists. I have known instances of the crews of small 'pearlers' being treacherously surprised, killed, and eaten. So get hold of the arms; you'll probably find the key of the captain's cabin in the chart-house; if not, burst open the door." Ellerton departed upon his errand, and presently returned with the news that there was no trace of the key. "Here is a sextant and a bundle of charts, however," he added. "They are bound to be useful, although I cannot understand the meaning of the depths on the chart." "They are in 'brazas,' equal to about five and a half English feet. But, as you say, the charts will be of extreme importance to us." "Come on, Terence, let's burgle the captain's cabin," exclaimed Ellerton, laying hold of a hatchet. Soon the sound of blows was heard, followed by the splintering of wood, and the two lads returned literally armed to the teeth. Each had a couple of rifles slung across his back; Terence carried half a dozen revolvers in his arms and a sheath-knife between his teeth, while Ellerton staggered beneath the weight of several belts of ball cartridges and a box of revolver ammunition. "There's more to come; the place is like a regular armoury," explained Terence. "That's somewhat unusual," replied Mr. McKay. "Most captains keep firearms of a kind in their cabins. I strongly suspect that those arms were to be sold to some South American insurgents. They are much too good for bartering with the South Sea Islanders. Nevertheless, I'm right glad we have been able to arm ourselves thoroughly, as I expected we should have to be content with a couple of pistols between the lot of us." The work of loading the boat proceeded briskly, till the strictly limited quantity of gear was carefully stowed under the thwarts. Then came the question, how were they going to transport the crippled Mr. McKay to the shore? "Hoist me over by the derrick, of course," replied he. "A couple of rope spans round the plank and their bights slipped over the hook of the lower block, and the trick's done." Ellerton and Terence thereupon slipped down a rope into the boat and carefully guided the swaying mess table and its helpless burden on to a couple of the after thwarts. This done, they were joined by Andy and Quexo, and, shipping the heavy ash oars, they pulled clear of the ship. The first fifty yards meant hard and careful rowing, for directly they were beyond the shelter of the stranded vessel they felt the full force of the rollers as they dashed against the coral reef, barely a boat's length to lee'ard. Once, indeed, it seemed as if the cutter were bound to be swept upon the rocks; but by dint of the utmost exertions of her crew, the boat surely and slowly drew away from the influence of the rollers. "My word, that was a narrow squeak!" exclaimed Andy, wiping his face, from which the perspiration ran freely. "I thought we were going to be capsized that time." "It doesn't say much for the chances of those poor fellows last night," replied Ellerton. "They must have dropped smack on top of the reef." "We'll soon find out," said Mr. McKay. "You see, they were immediately to lee'ard of the ship, and it was high water at the time. If they survived, we'll find them ashore right enough." "But I saw no sign of the boat when I looked through the glass." "That may be because there is a creek or cove that is invisible from the ship. Being directly to wind'ard, we are bound to find either the men or the remains of the boat." "The ship is sitting up well," remarked Andy, for, the tide having dropped nearly six feet--it had been abnormally high by reason of the terrific wind--they could see the top of one of her propeller blades. "Do you think she'll stay there?" "It certainly doesn't seem as if she is likely to slip off into deep water, but we cannot say for certain. The first fine day there's little or no swell we'll sound all round her. Now, give way, lads." The rowers resumed their oars, and the boat, passing through the narrow gap in the reef, gained the shelter of the lagoon. "Fine, isn't it?" exclaimed Terence enthusiastically, as he rested on his oar and gazed into the clear depths of the tranquil water. "Won't we be able to have some bathes?" "You'll have to be careful if you do," remarked Mr. McKay. "There are bound to be sharks about." He did not think it advisable to call the lads' attention to a commotion in the water a few hundred yards in front of the boat. From his inclined position he could see ahead, while the rowers had their backs turned in that direction. His keen eyes had detected the sinister dorsal fin of not one, but many sharks, all cutting towards one spot. There could be but little doubt of the fate of the Peruvian seamen. The noise of the approaching oars disturbed the huge monsters, and they darted off to the shelter of the rock-strewn floor of the lagoon. Unaware of the tragedy, the lads urged the boat almost over the fatal spot, and five minutes later the cutter's forefoot grounded on the sandy beach. "Terence, I want you and Quexo to stay in the boat," said Ellerton, after the survivors had, by a common impulse, knelt down and returned thanks to Divine Providence for their escape. "Keep her stern from slewing round, so that we can push off in a hurry. Andy and I are going to explore." And, buckling on a revolver and an ammunition belt, and grasping a rifle in his hand, Ellerton took a flying leap over the bows and alighted on the sand. The lads found themselves on the shore of a small bay, its extremities bounded by two towering cliffs, that rose sheer from the lagoon. That to the left was not less than five hundred feet in height, while the other was but slightly lower. Midway between these impassable boundaries the land sloped abruptly to the beach, and was thickly covered with cocoanut palms. "Keep your weather eye lifting, Andy," cautioned Ellerton, who had taken the precaution of charging both the magazine of his rifle and the chambers of his revolver. It was an unnecessary warning, for Andy was an infinitely better scout than his companion; still, it showed that Ellerton was fast adopting the manner of life required in a wild and unsettled country. Skirting the edge of the wood, the lads kept a vigilant look-out for any traces of human agency, but nothing was visible. Presently they came to a small stream, which, trickling down the steep hillside, was lost in the sand. "There'll be no lack of fresh water," exclaimed Andy thankfully, for he knew the value of that precious fluid. "But, I say, isn't everything quiet?" For, save the babbling of the brook and the distant roar of the breakers on the reef, there was an unaccustomed silence. Not a bird sang in the groves, not an animal rustled the thick undergrowth. "I think we may take it for granted that the island is uninhabited--at least, this part," said Andy, as they completed their walk along the shores of the bay. "Otherwise, there's almost sure to be a beaten track to the shore." "It doesn't promise much for the boat's crew," answered Ellerton. Then, with an exclamation of surprise, he shouted: "Look! What's that?" Lying on the sand a few feet from the water's edge was a mournful relic of the unfortunate boat, her back-board bearing the words _San Martin_. A little farther they found an oar. "There were two boats, remember," said Ellerton. "And one we know was capsized." "I vote we explore the next bay," exclaimed Andy. "There's no suitable clearing here for a camp, and felling trees takes time; so let's get back to the boat." "Well?" asked Mr. McKay on their return. "We must push off and land on the other side of the cliff," said his son. "There may be a better site for our tent. It's too steep and densely wooded here." "Any signs of the crew?" "Only part of their boat." "I feared as much," replied Mr. McKay. * * * * * "This looks more promising," exclaimed Andy enthusiastically, as the boat slowly rounded the northernmost of the two cliffs. Here the land sloped less abruptly towards the lagoon, while in places there were terraces almost bare of trees. In the background towered a range of mountains whose rugged sides gave the appearance of being unclimbable, while on either hand of the bay rose lofty cliffs. The beach, too, was better adapted for landing purposes than where they had first touched, consisting of sand interspersed by ledges of rocks jutting seawards, thus forming convenient natural jetties. "This will do admirably," said Ellerton, pointing to a narrow cove betwixt the ledges. "There's sand at its head, so there's no fear of the boat being damaged." CHAPTER V THE CAMP Slowly the cutter was backed in till its sternpost stuck on the smooth, even bottom. The castaways could not have chosen a better harbour. On either hand the rocks, smooth and flat-topped, allowed a boat to be moored alongside without danger of being left high and dry at low water, while the ledge shelved so gradually that it was possible to bring the boat's gunwale level with the natural pier at any state of the tide. "I think we had better make a tour of exploration as we did before," said Andy. "Not that I think this part of the island is inhabited any more than yonder bay." "Say, Andy," exclaimed Terence, "isn't it about time I had a spell ashore?" "All right, Terence," replied Ellerton. "You go with Andy and take Quexo; I'll stay with Mr. McKay." "Thanks, Hoppy," replied Terence, and without further ado he jumped ashore. "Here, take this rope and make her stern fast before you go," said Ellerton. "And you, Andy, stand by with the painter." "Where shall I make fast to?" asked Terence. "This rock is as smooth as a table." "See if there's a lump of rock on the other side." Terence crossed the landing-place, holding the rope's-end in his hand. Suddenly he shouted: "Come here, you fellows! Here's a boat!" There was a rush to where Terence stood, while even Mr. McKay raised himself on his elbow, eager to hear the news. Lying bottom upwards on the sandy shore was the ill-fated boat in which the last of the crew attempted to reach the shore. Her bows were considerably damaged, while amidships a portion of her keel and both garboards had been stove in, leaving a jagged hole nearly two feet in diameter. Four or five oars lay on the shore within a few feet of the boat, but there were no signs of the hapless crew; the sand above high-water mark was innocent of footprints. "They are drowned, sure enough," said Andy sadly. Alas! though they did not know it, the fate of the crew was far more terrible. Holed on the outer reef, the boat, rapidly filling, had been swept into the lagoon, where the waves, though high, were not so terrific as outside the coral barrier. Well it was that the watchers on the wreck heard not the awful shrieks as the sharks fought for and seized their helpless prey. Ellerton returned to the cutter to inform Mr. McKay of their discovery, while the others set off to explore. In less than an hour they were back, and reported that there were no signs of human habitation, although the shore was strewn with the remains of the first boat that left the wreck, including most of the oars, gratings, also a quantity of timber, presumably from the shattered decks of the _San Martin_. "But we've found a fine place to pitch the tent," continued Andy. "You see the second terrace? Well, at the extreme right is a steep ravine. The other two sides are enclosed by a wall of rock, while on this side there is a natural path, although you can't distinguish it from where we are." "That sounds all right," said his father. "But how are we to get the gear up there--including the useless lump of animated clay in the shape of myself?" "I hadn't thought of that," replied Andy. "We must find a more convenient spot at first," continued Mr. McKay. "Then, when we have landed all the gear from the ship that we can possibly manage to move, we can devise some means of setting up a more substantial dwelling on the terrace you mention. Now, if you will please carry me ashore, you can proceed to unload the boat." In spite of the adaptable jetty, the work of getting Mr. McKay--crippled as he was--on shore was no easy task. The patient bore the discomfort gamely, uttering a heartfelt sigh of relief as the lads set the improvised stretcher down in the shade of a thin grove of cocoanut palms. "How far away is the stream--I think you mentioned there was a stream in the bay?" asked Ellerton. "Less than a hundred yards away. It's very clean, but not so full as the one we found," replied Andy. "Then let's set up the tent. This place will do for a day or two at least." The chosen site consisted of soft springy turf, sloping very gradually towards the lagoon. In the background was a wall of rock, about forty feet in height, forming the limit of the next terrace, while on either hand the trees served as an efficient screen from all winds save those blowing from the sea. By the aid of their axes the lads felled five young palms, and soon stripped them of their heads. Four of the trunks were then lashed in pairs, and set up with guy-ropes at a distance of about fifteen feet apart, and one end of the fifth pole was placed over the crutch formed by one of the pairs. This done, Ellerton swarmed up the other pair of poles and fastened a small pulley to the extremity of one of them. A rope was passed through the block, one end being lashed to the lower part of the fifth pole that rested on the ground. "Haul away, lads!" he shouted. And the pole, lifted into a horizontal position, was quickly placed between, thus forming the ridge of the tent. One of the fore and aft sails was then thrown over the ridge pole and its end pegged down; while to make doubly sure, the lads piled stones and sand upon the ends of the canvas. Filling in the back and front of the tent with portions of another sail took an hour's steady work, and the dwelling was then pronounced ready for occupation. The box of ammunition, the rifles, bread cask, and water-beakers were neatly stowed against the afterpart of their dwelling, till, on Mr. McKay's suggestion, a low barricade was erected close to the flap of the tent. Then pieces of canvas were cut and laid down to serve as beds, the cripple having the use of the cushions that had been brought ashore. "I don't see why we should sleep on the hard ground," remarked Terence. "Of course, we have been used to it, but, after sleeping in a comfortable bunk, we are bound to feel the difference. So let us cut a number of small trees and fasten the strips of canvas to them like a stretcher." This was accordingly done, the beds being raised from the ground by means of two stout planks lashed to short uprights driven firmly into the earth. "There we are, all in a row," exclaimed Terence, as they surveyed the result of their labour with evident satisfaction. "Now, Quexo," said Andy, "go down to the beach and gather as much driftwood as you can carry. And, Hoppy, you start opening that tin of beef there, and I'll slice up the bread. But----" "What?" exclaimed Terence and Ellerton. "We are a set of donkeys! We haven't brought a pot or a kettle ashore with us." "Boil the water in the beef-tin," said Ellerton. "Spoil the coffee," objected Andy. "Either that or nothing. But how about a light? Has anyone any matches?" More disappointment. Terence suggested using the object glass of the telescope as a burning glass, but the sun was low in the heavens; Andy was for sprinkling some powder on a heap of dry leaves and firing it by means of a blank cartridge; while Ellerton vaguely remembered that fire might be obtained by rubbing two pieces of dry wood together. "Have you ever tried to make a blaze that way?" asked Mr. McKay. "I don't think you would succeed. Savages can do the trick, I know, but I've never seen a white man obtain fire by that means. I would have suggested flint and steel. We have plenty of steel, only, unfortunately, flints are as scarce as diamonds on this island, I fancy. However, now you have exhausted your brains over the problem, allow me to assist you. Andy, put your hand in the inside pocket of my coat and you'll find my metal match-box. "Now you are satisfied," he continued, as his son produced the required article. "The fact of the matter is, you were all in such a hurry to get ashore that you never gave a thought to the things most urgently required. Lucky for you, my lad, you've a father to think for you. Now will you please empty that case of biscuits? I am afraid some spray splashed over it, and in time the salt will make the biscuits soft." Andy did as he was requested, but a moment later he uttered an exclamation of surprise, for on opening the lid he discovered a kettle, saucepan, and coffee-pot, knives, forks, and spoons, while wedged in between the metal articles were bottles containing salt, pepper, vinegar, and several useful drugs in tabloid form. "I say, pater, you are----" "Merely one who has learnt by experience the value of forethought. While you were busy on deck I sent Quexo to gather these things and stow them in a box." Suddenly the conversation was interrupted by a series of shrieks. The lads seized their rifles and rushed to meet the mulatto, whose face was livid with fear. "A caiman is after me, señor," he shouted in his native tongue. "Nonsense," replied Andy; then turning to his companions he explained that the mulatto had declared that an alligator had run after him. "It's impossible," he added. "However, we'll see what's frightened him." On emerging from the edge of the wood that had obstructed their view of that part of the bay where Quexo had been to gather dry sticks, the lads burst into a roar of laughter. Sedately waddling over the sand was a huge turtle. "Follow me, Hoppy," exclaimed Andy. "Get between him and the sea; we can't afford to lose this chance." Finding its retreat cut off, the turtle began to throw up showers of sand with its flippers, but Andy rushed it, and, seizing one of the creature's horny limbs, strove to capsize the reptile. The task was beyond him; even with the aid of his two chums he could not raise the shell-clad creature from the sand. "Get hold of an oar and one of the empty tubs," he exclaimed breathlessly. "You go, Terence. Hoppy and I will prevent the turtle getting away." Presently Terence returned with the desired article, and using the oar as a lever the three lads succeeded in turning the turtle on its back, when Andy, with a dexterous sweep of his knife, cut the animal's throat. "Hurrah! Turtle steak to-morrow, pater!" he shouted on their return to the camp. Quexo gathered up the firewood that he had dropped in his flight, and as darkness set in, a roaring fire was kindled, and a gorgeous supper eaten. Then, ere the last dying embers had ceased to glow, Terence, who had volunteered to keep the first two hours' watch, shouldered his rifle and took up his position in the shelter of the neighbouring palm-trees. CHAPTER VI THE ANIMAL THAT WOULDN'T BE RESCUED No unusual incident marked the castaways' first night on the island. Guard was relieved with the utmost regularity, while the weary watches were spent in gazing at the exterior of the tent and listening to the regular breathing of its four inmates. At length the day broke, and the camp became the scene of activity. Breakfast over, there was a rush to the boat; Quexo, however, remaining with the injured Mr. McKay. The weather showed every indication of remaining fine, a light south-easterly breeze--a part of the regular trade-wind--blowing off shore, while not a cloud was visible in the dark blue sky. "We must make two trips to-day," observed Andy, as they pushed off from the little natural dock. "Yesterday the clouds kept the sun's rays from us, but to-day we will not be able to work during midday." "Honestly, I don't feel like work," remarked Terence, stifling a yawn. "I suppose there is some excuse for you, seeing you did two turns of sentry-go last night," replied his friend. "Still, this is an exceptional time, and we must set to work with a will. Can we get over the reef, do you think, Hoppy?" "We had better stick to the channel," replied Ellerton. "You see, we don't know the actual depth, and there is a slight swell on. We'll board on the port quarter, so as to get between the ship and the reef." The lads plied their oars steadily yet without undue exertion, and in less than half an hour from the time of leaving the shore they ran alongside the stranded _San Martin_. Ellerton's first care on boarding the wreck was to supply fresh water and food to the animals. To get them safely ashore was a difficult problem, for the ox was an unwieldy brute to ship aboard the cutter, while it was equally risky to let it swim ashore on account of the presence of numerous sharks. The sheep could be trussed up and laid upon the bottom boards. Andy and Terence at once made for the provision-room, and returned laden with flour, salt beef, tinned goods, and some small chests of pressed tea. These articles they placed on deck close to the entry port and proceeded to procure more. Ellerton, having attended to the live stock, made a thorough exploration of the after cabins and staggered on deck looking like a second-hand wardrobe dealer, for he realised the necessity of having a good supply of clothing. Then a huge pile of bedding, including waterproof sheets, blankets, and pillows, was added to the already large collection of plunder. "I think this lot will be sufficient for one trip," remarked Andy. "We may as well take the rest of the navigating instruments," replied Ellerton, "and, what is also necessary, the carpenter's chest." "Capital," replied his chum. "That will, of course, come in handy; but won't we require it on board?" "There are enough tools for work both ashore and on board," said Ellerton. "I've seen to that. But I should like to get the animals off." "The ox?" "If possible. Otherwise we must kill it and bring the carcase ashore piecemeal." Andy thought for some moments. He, too, realised the danger of the animal being devoured by sharks. Dead or alive, the ox would be far more useful to the castaways. "How are we going to get the brute on deck?" asked Terence. This was a poser, for with the fall of the foremast the derricks for working the fore-hold had also been carried away. "We must rig up a pair of sheer-legs," observed Ellerton. "Well? How are we to pass a sling round the brute's body?" "That's as easy as pie; the beast is quiet enough." "Then you take the job on, Hoppy; I'd rather not. So let's look sharp with the sheer-legs; there's plenty of tackle to hoist the creature with." The work of making the early preparations proceeded without a hitch, then Ellerton commenced his particular part of the operations. By the aid of a lantern which he hung from the deck-beams, the apprentice descended once more to the partially submerged hold. Holding a stout canvas sling, with a rope ready to haul tight the moment the lifting gear was in position, Ellerton climbed over the partition of the stall. The animal, now refreshed by its food and drink, had lost its docile manner, and eyed the intruder with no friendly spirit. Possibly it thought the youth was one of the brutal Peruvian cattle-drivers. If so, there was some excuse for its action, for lowering its head the brute tossed the apprentice right over the wooden partition, landing him squarely in the midst of the startled sheep in the adjacent pen. "Aren't you nearly ready?" asked a voice from above. Ellerton sat up. He was beginning to feel pain in more than one part of his anatomy. The task of tackling an apparently inoffensive ox was not going to be quite so easy as he imagined. "Come and bear a hand," he replied. "The brute is getting vicious." Andy thereupon descended into the semi-gloom of the hold. "Be careful," continued the apprentice. "He nearly bumped my head against the deck-beams; as it was, I had a flight through space." "Then I'm not going to pass a sling round him," said Andy. "We'll lasso him just behind the horns." This was done, but then came the difficulty: how were they to release the animal from the stall and drag it to the hatchway? "Look here," explained Andy, "I'll take this end of the line on deck, wind it on to the tackle, and heave taut. Then we'll unship this ladder and you can unfasten the front of the stall." "Then what happens to me?" objected Ellerton. "Oh, you can make a bolt to the fore end of the hold and stay there till Terence and I haul the brute on deck. Then we'll re-ship the ladder and you can get out." Ellerton had his doubts, but he followed his companion's counsel. Directly there was a strain on the lasso, he threw open the door of the stall and rushed for the shelter of the sheep-pen. Bellowing lustily, and contesting every inch of the way, the animal was slowly dragged towards the hatch, to the accompaniment of a lusty "Heave-ho!" from the two youths on deck. Terence watched the operation with considerable misgiving, expecting every moment to see the rope part and to find himself confronted by the infuriated brute. Slowly the animal was forced across the floor of the hold, then its ponderous carcase rose, kicking and plunging, in the air. As the animal appeared above the coaming, the light of day revealed--not a mild ox, but an unusually sturdy specimen of an Andalusian bull! "Belay there, and lower away the after guy!" shouted Andy, "or he'll drop down the hatch again when we let go." Terence hastened to obey; but, allowing the sheers to incline too far forward, the infuriated animal's legs touched the deck. Instantly the brute made a wild rush, the lassoo parted like pack thread, and the next moment Terence and Andy were flying for their lives, while Ellerton, a prisoner in the hold, heard the thunder of the animal's hoofs and its triumphant bellowing as it revelled in its new-found freedom. Andy made a desperate rush aft, but finding the bull close to his heels, gripped a rope hanging from the boat booms, and swung himself into a position of comparative safety upon one of the narrow timbers, his upward flight being assisted a little too well by the obliging animal. [Illustration: ANDY, FINDING THE BULL CLOSE TO HIS HEELS, GRIPPED A ROPE AND SWUNG HIMSELF INTO A POSITION OF COMPARATIVE SAFETY] Never did matador execute a more rapid leap over the barrier than did Andy on this occasion. Terence, finding that he was not pursued, took a more leisurely step, and hoisted himself into the main shrouds, where he would be quite safe from any further onslaught of the animal. For a while the bull eyed the fugitives with undisguised disappointment, then spying the heap of bedding and clothing on the deck, it lowered its head and rushed headlong to the attack. Both lads watched the proceedings, powerless to prevent the catastrophe, and indulging in vain regrets that their firearms were not available, as beds, blankets, and suits of useful clothing were tossed overboard. At length a heavy blanket became impaled upon the brute's horns, the folds falling over its eyes. In vain the bull strove to toss aside the fabric; then, rushing along the deck, it collided with ventilators, hatchways, and other obstacles, each obstruction increasing its anger. Wheeling suddenly, the bull darted through the entry port and vanished over the ship's side. "Oh, the boat! The boat will be smashed to firewood," shouted Andy, sliding down from his perch. Terence had joined him, and, heedless of Ellerton's voice shouting to be released from his prison, the two lads rushed to the side of the vessel. The animal had fallen upon one of the thwarts of the boat, breaking it completely in half, and was lying on the bottom-boards plunging wildly. One kick in a vital place and the boat would be holed. "There's enough damage done already," muttered Andy. "It's the only way," and running aft he returned in a moment with a loaded rifle. "How are you going to manage it?" asked Terence. "You'll do almost as much damage to the boat with the bullet----" "Shut up!" growled Andy, and, snapping the safety catch of the weapon, he swung himself without further delay into the stern sheets of the cutter. The bull tried to rise, but in vain. Its head reared itself slightly above the gunwale; the rifle cracked. "There's fresh beef at least, Terence. Throw Hoppy the tail end of a rope and get him out of that hole." Then, as Ellerton appeared, blinking in the strong sunshine, Andy continued: "Throw those things into the boat, and look sharp. We've wasted enough time and precious cargo this morning--all for the sake of that brute." During the time the boat was being rowed shoreward, Andy--usually so genial and even-tempered--preserved an almost sullen silence; while Ellerton, annoyed at having failed to bring the bull ashore alive, was also ill at ease. Nor did the latter guess the cause of his friend's glumness till some days later, when he observed Andy repairing a rent in one of his garments. Even a graze from an infuriated bull is likely to cause discomfort, he thought, though there is no reason why others should suffer for it. CHAPTER VII THE EMBLEM OF EMPIRE "You've been a long time," remarked Mr. McKay, as the three youths made their appearance. "Yes," admitted Terence, "I'm afraid we have; but we must blame Hoppy's bull." "Hoppy's bull?" asked Mr. McKay. "Yes, the ox turned out to be a bull--and a tough customer he was," replied Terence, who then proceeded to give Mr. McKay a graphic description of how they had tried to unload the bull from the wreck. "And how do you feel to-day?" asked Ellerton. "Considerably better," replied the injured man. "You've been moved," declared Andy, pointing to some marks in the grass. "I plead guilty," replied his father with a smile. "Quexo dragged my couch out in the sunshine. I wanted to take an observation at midday. Just hand me that chart. I've pricked our position. Here it is. Reduced to English degrees the latitude is 21° 4' 15" S. and the longitude 134° 17' 14" W. of Greenwich. As I suspected, we are on the fringe of the Low Archipelago, well away from the Great Circle route between Panama and New Zealand, and equally remote from the regular tracks between the Sandwich Islands and Cape Horn. That means that unless a whaler or stray trading vessel puts in here, or that we make the cutter seaworthy enough for a thousand-mile voyage, our stay here is likely to be indefinitely prolonged." "I'm sure I don't mind," observed Andy. "Nor I, if only my people knew we were safe," added Terence, and Ellerton expressed himself in a similar manner. "Isn't the heat oppressive?" said Andy. "It's like an oven here." "Yes," assented his father. "I can see we've made a mistake in choosing this spot. It's splendidly sheltered--too much so--for what with the rocks behind us and the palm groves on either side, the air cannot circulate. We must find a more open spot on the next terrace." "There's no reason why we shouldn't have two camps--one for stormy weather and the other for the dry season," replied Andy. "Once we've finished with the wreck we can set to and build a more substantial home. But what do you say? Hadn't we better unload the boat?" "I'm game," replied Ellerton. "What did you bring ashore?" asked Mr. McKay. "Mostly provisions, bedding, and clothing, though that beastly bull tossed a lot of stuff overboard. We've also brought the rest of the navigation instruments." "Are you making another trip to-day?" "I hope so," replied Ellerton. "I shall not be satisfied till those poor sheep are safely ashore. By the by, Andy, you might tell Quexo to build a fence between the rock and the edge of this terrace. It won't take long, and it will inclose enough pasture land to feed the sheep for some time to come." "I'll tell him directly we've had lunch; but come on, unloading the boat will take all our spare time before lunch, and we mustn't work too hard in this broiling sun." By the time the cutter's cargo was brought up to the camp Quexo had prepared the meal. This over, the inhabitants of the Nameless Island indulged in a siesta till the sun was sufficiently low in the heavens to enable them to resume work. "Don't forget to bring some lamps ashore," said Mr. McKay, as the three lads prepared to set off to the wreck. "And a bundle of signal flags, while you are about it." This time the salvage operations were uninterrupted. The sheep, securely trussed up, were placed in the boat, while the bunting, lamps, a portable galley, and a set of blacksmith's tools, including a bellows and anvil, were also lowered into the cutter without mishap. "Let's get the hatch off and see what is in the forehold," suggested Ellerton. The hold was full of water, as the lads had expected, but a hasty examination showed that the part of the cargo nearest the opening was composed of several sheets of galvanised corrugated iron. "This is fortunate," exclaimed Andy. "We'll be able to knock up a decent house. But what's that I can see for'ard?" "Looks like farming implements," suggested Terence. "You are wrong," replied Andy. "I know; it's what the Americans term a runabout." "A what?" asked Ellerton. "A runabout--otherwise a motor-car." "Fancy a motor-car on the Nameless Island!" exclaimed Terence, and the lads burst into a fit of hearty laughter at the incongruous idea. "We'll have it ashore in time," observed Andy. "It will come in useful." "How?" "Never mind how. I have an idea, and, all being well, I'll fix it up to a good purpose." "Suppose we try and find the bill of lading and the charter-party; they will give us some idea of the nature of the cargo." A search revealed the required documents, but, being in Spanish, the apprentice could make no meaning to the text. "Snakes!" ejaculated Andy. "There's enough to set us up as universal providers! Woollen and cotton goods, boots and leggings, hardware of American manufacture, nine cases of rifles--for some blooming insurgents more than likely--30,000 rounds of ammunition, and--hullo, this looks dangerous!--two tons of dynamite; building and railroad materials, agricultural implements, and one petrol-driven runabout, consigned to Monsieur Georges Lacroix, Grand Bassin, Tahiti. Well, I'm afraid Monsieur Georges Lacroix will have to wait for his motor-car!" "By Jove, we are lucky!" ejaculated Ellerton. "That is, provided we get the stuff ashore." "We'll do it," replied his chum resolutely. "Only give us time and good weather, and we'll leave precious little on the _San Martin_, I can assure you." "Time to be off," exclaimed Terence. "It will be dark in an hour." So, thrusting the documents into his belt, Andy dropped over the side, and received the rest of the articles that the lads had collected. Then, well laden, the boat returned to the shore. "We've much to be thankful for," exclaimed Mr. McKay, after he had perused the ship's papers. "There is, I think, no need for anxiety as to our future. You brought the signal flags, I hope?" "Yes," replied Ellerton, "and a couple of Peruvian ensigns." "Good! I'm going to make up a Union Jack. There are two reasons for doing so. The first is that it can be used as a means of attracting passing vessels; the second, and more important to my mind, is that it signifies that the island becomes part of the British Empire. I've been going into the question pretty deeply. You may be aware that the Low Archipelago belongs to France. These islands consists of a number of flat coral islands, hence their name. Now, as this island is lofty and of volcanic origin, I cannot see that it can be classed as belonging to the Low Archipelago, even though it is not far distant from that group. Neither does it appear to have been inhabited, so we may be pretty safe in claiming it. Terence, there's a pencil and paper close to your elbow; will you please sketch a plan of a Union Jack?" Terence did so, but the result was not to Mr. McKay's satisfaction. "You try, Andy." Nor was Andy's attempt any more satisfactory, so Ellerton was put to the test. "Shame on you, lads!" exclaimed Mr. McKay reproachfully. "Three members of the good old British Empire, and unable to draw its national ensign correctly. Here, hand me that pencil." "Now do you see," he continued, after he had explained the various minute particulars of the flag. "There's a broad white diagonal above the two portions of St. Patrick's cross next to the pole, and a broad white diagonal below the two portions farthest from the pole. If the flag is hoisted in any manner but the correct the ensign becomes a signal of distress. Often in bygone days hostile ships have attempted to sail under British colours, and in nine cases out of ten their ignorance of its peculiarities has led to their undoing. However, we'll postpone the cutting out till the rest of the boat's cargo is brought up." "How is Quexo getting on?" asked Ellerton. "He's been away the whole afternoon. I guess your fence is nearly completed by now." "Then I'll go and see how he is progressing," remarked the apprentice. The mulatto had indeed made rapid strides, for only a few feet more remained to be done, so Ellerton returned to the boat to liberate the sheep. Ere nightfall the pen was tenanted by a score of animals, frisking with enjoyment at finding themselves once more in pasture. That evening three large lamps contributed to the comfort of the tent. The lads, tired out with their exertions, were "taking things easy," lamenting the fact that there was no literature to beguile the time. Mr. McKay, having been raised to a sitting position, called for the bunting. Laboriously he threaded a needle and commenced his lengthy task. "One moment, sir," exclaimed Ellerton. "Wouldn't a sewing machine be better?" "A what? Bless the lad! Where's a machine to be had?" "On board, sir. I noticed a couple in the fo'c'sle. You see, a seaman has to make his own duds." "Very well, I'll put off the job till to-morrow, if you'll remember to bring one of the things ashore." "Any need to keep watch to-night, pater?" asked Andy. "I think it would be advisable till we've explored the island. Not that I anticipate any interference, but forewarned is forearmed." Mr. McKay's words proved to be correct. Nothing occurred to disturb the camp during the second night ashore. "Do you think that Terence and you can manage by yourselves?" asked Mr. McKay during breakfast. "I think so," replied Ellerton. "Then Andy can take Quexo and make an exploration of the interior. I particularly want him to reach the summit of the hill, so as to find out if there are other islands in the vicinity." "You understand, Andy?" continued his father. "Keep a sharp look-out for signs of past or present inhabitants, any animals you may come across--there may be a few pigs--and, above all, note the general extent of the island and the position of its neighbours, if visible. Don't overburden yourselves; a revolver and twenty rounds apiece, a water-bottle, and some provisions will be quite enough to carry. Rest on the summit of the hill during the heat of the day, and get back here well before sunset." Having seen the explorers on their way, Ellerton and Donaghue pushed off the cutter and rowed to the wreck. It was again an ideal morning, and without the faintest hitch the boat was made fast alongside the battered hull of the _San Martin_. "I've a mind to try and patch up that gig," remarked Ellerton, gazing at the battered boat. "Take too much time," was Terence's reply. "No, I mean to fasten some painted canvas over the hole and nail some copper sheathing outside the canvas to protect it. It won't be a long job, so meanwhile you might clear all the light gear out of the cabins and saloon." Two hours sufficed to effect the temporary repairs, and the gig on being launched let in very little water. Ellerton was overjoyed with his success. "We'll take a double load ashore, Terence," he exclaimed. "We may as well make a start by clearing the for'ard hold." So saying, Ellerton began to strip off his clothing. He was an expert swimmer and diver, and these qualifications stood him in good stead. Taking a strong hook attached to a rope in his hand, he dived from the coaming of the hatchway. The top of the stacks of galvanised iron was but a few feet below the surface, and in a few seconds the hook was affixed to the wire rope that held the plates together. Then, regaining the deck, the apprentice assisted his companion in hauling their booty out of the hold. Six times the operation was repeated, till the deck resembled a "tin" city in the western plains of Arizona. "It takes it out of you," remarked Ellerton. "I wish we could get rid of the water in the hold; though I'm afraid the vessel's too badly strained to be able to patch up her sides." "Even then we would have a bother to get rid of the water," replied Terence. "Still, we've done very well up to now." "There's all that railway line material underneath the iron sheeting; that will want some shifting." "We'll do it some time, but now we'll get off home." It seemed natural for the lads to talk of the camp as "home," for already they were becoming attached to the free, yet none the less comfortable, manner of living. "Wait while I get the sewing machine from the fo'c'sle. But you may as well come, too, and we'll take both of them." With this, Ellerton, accompanied by Terence, made his way for'ard. In the gloom of the stuffy fo'c'sle, the sight of which forcibly reminded him of his quarters on the _Tophet_, Ellerton found the required articles. "Hullo, here's a find!" he exclaimed, holding up a concertina. "Sling the blessed thing overboard," replied Terence laughing. "If you take it ashore it's bound to make trouble in the camp." "It may come in handy." Ellerton looked upon everything as being likely "to come in handy." He would have overstocked the island with useless things in the hope that they might be of use at some distant date. In this case, did he but know it, the concertina was fated to play a most useful part. "All right, then," assented Terence good-humouredly. "To look at us now one would think we were going to run old women's sewing meetings and popular Saturday night concerts." With the gig in tow, the lads returned to the shore, putting off the unloading of their boat till the evening, though they brought the sewing machines with them to the tent. "Now I can get on," exclaimed Mr. McKay. "It's slow work lying here and unable to do a decent bit of hard work." Lunch, followed by the customary siesta, occupied the rest of the afternoon. By the aid of a telescope Andy and Quexo had been seen on the summit of the hill, and their descent followed till an intervening spur hid them from sight. Mr. McKay calculated that they would be home within a couple of hours. "You might cut down a suitable palm tree--one about forty feet in height--Terence," he added. "I should like to have the flag flying on their return." The tree was easily felled, and a small block, with signal halliards rove, was fastened to its smaller end. This done, a hole was dug to receive the pole, and by the aid of a pair of guys the flagstaff was erected and set up in quite a professional style. About five in the afternoon Andy and the mulatto returned. They reported that from the summit of the hill the island appeared to be nearly circular, without any noticeable bays that might serve as boat harbours. The reef extended completely around the island, approaching it closely on the southern side, while there were three well-defined entrances besides the one they already knew about. Andy reckoned that the extreme length of the island was about seven miles, its breadth barely a mile less. There were no other islands visible, but as the sea was hazy away on the north-west it was possible that land might lie in that direction. "Then, assuming the altitude to be one thousand feet, your horizon would be approximately forty-two miles off," remarked Mr. McKay. "Well, in that case we are not likely to be troubled by our neighbours, for the nearest island cannot be less than fifty miles away. Did you find any signs of the island having been inhabited?" "Yes," replied Andy, "we found this," and opening a leather sling case he produced a pistol. It was a quaint specimen of a flint-lock weapon, its large-bore barrel eaten with rust and its silver-mounted walnut stock pitted and rotted by exposure. "I don't think the gentleman who dropped this article is in a fit state to call upon us," observed Mr. McKay. "Nevertheless, it shows that we are not the first civilised people to set foot on the island. What is the interior like?" "There are distinct signs of a volcano about. The top of the hill is most certainly an extinct volcano, while the base is honeycombed with fissures like the volcano of Monotombo. Otherwise the island is well wooded." "You've done well," commented Mr. McKay. "Now it's nearly sunset, so there will be just time to hoist the Union Jack." "Finished it, then, pater?" "Rather! Now, Andy, you hoist the emblem of empire!" Amid the cheers of the band of Britishers the ensign was broken at the masthead. For a few minutes it fluttered idly in the breeze, then, as the sun sank beneath the horizon, the Jack was slowly lowered. They had asserted the King's authority over the island to which they had now given the name of McKay's Island. CHAPTER VIII "A SAIL!" For the next five months things went smoothly at McKay's Island. Taking every advantage of the remaining period of the dry season, the lads worked hard. Almost everything of value was removed from the wreck. The heavy lengths of railway lines were safely transported to the shore; the motor-car, its mechanism not altogether useless, was stored under a canvas canopy on the lower terrace. The ship's dynamos were removed, as well as the lighter portion of the main propelling machinery, while the remaining derricks, practically the whole of the wire rigging, and all the woodwork that could be taken away, had found a safe storage-place on McKay's Island. Most of the dynamite had been cautiously conveyed ashore and placed in some of the numerous caves at a safe distance from the camp. The remainder of the explosive had been judiciously used--under Andy's direction, for his experiences at San Eugenio had not been thrown away--in demolishing those portions of the wreck that prevented easy access to the precious cargo. Only the bare hull of the _San Martin_ now remained. No doubt the first on-shore hurricane would sweep away every vestige of the ill-fated vessel, but the castaways were satisfied with the knowledge that nothing of value remained on board. Nor had the work ashore been delayed. Already a substantial three-roomed building of galvanised iron reared itself proudly upon the second terrace. Its furniture--the best that the state-rooms and cabins of the _San Martin_ could provide--would have made many a stay-at-home Englishman green with envy. The lads had contrived to lay a double set of rails from the shore up the steep path to the lower terrace. Then, by means of a steel hawser attached to two sets of trucks, they were able to draw the bulk of their goods to the higher level with little difficulty. The mode of locomotion, thanks to Andy's ready skill, was comparatively simple. At first Terence wished to utilise the motor of the "runabout"; but to this proposal Andy objected, having another purpose in view for the undelivered consignment for Monsieur Georges Lacroix. Included in the rolling stock were several iron tip waggons, of the kind generally in use in mining districts. Two of these Andy attached to each of his "trains." Those on the upper level he filled with earth, till the weight, being greater than the other set of waggons, caused the former to descend the incline, and at the same time raise the trucks filled with cargo from the beach. This plan acted very well, but the labour in filling the trucks with soil was tedious; so Andy conceived the brilliant idea of trapping some of the water from the little stream, and conveying it by means of a length of iron pipe supported on trestles into the empty tip waggons. From that moment the "McKay's Island Express" was in full working order, and the task of hauling the salved cargo up the terrace became a matter of comparative ease. Those five months had worked wonders in Mr. McKay. Though weak on his feet, he was able to walk, and showed promise of soon throwing off all ill-effects of his double misfortune. As a natural result of his prolonged convalescence he had grown stout. This was a source of worry to him, and he longed to be able to get about again as usual. Amongst their many undertakings, the lads found time to make use of the remains of the disabled gig. Realising that the work of replacing the garboards and keel would not repay the amount of labour expended on the work, they cut the boat in two, and built transoms to each of the sound ends. Thus they possessed two light craft, each about ten feet in length, and easy to haul up and down the beach. When occasion served, they could also bolt the two transoms together, and thus form one boat, resembling the original gig with a slice of her 'midship section missing. The craft proved of great service while the cutter was under reconstruction. This was a big task, for not only had the lads given her a fairly deep keel, to make her more seaworthy, but a cabin, water-tight well, and decked fo'c'sle were added. The rig was altered to that of a yawl, while Andy hoped at an early date to instal the motor in her. Hitherto his difficulties lay in the fact that the motor was not water cooled, nor was it adapted to consume kerosene. They had a plentiful supply of that fuel, but of petrol they had none. Nevertheless, Andy had firm faith in his capabilities, and trusted to overcome these difficulties all right. In this craft the hopes of the inhabitants of McKay's Island were centred. Although happy in their little domain, for plenty of work had proved the greatest factor to their well-being, they yearned at times for the society of their fellow-men and civilisation. Directly the rainy season was over the little party meant to try their fate upon the broad Pacific. It was to be a risky voyage, but others had done similar passages under worse conditions. Blythe, of H.M.S. _Bounty_, for instance, did he not successfully accomplish a voyage of 4000 miles in an open boat in forty-one days? The advent of the rainy season was heralded by a hurricane of terrific force. Giving but little warning, the storm swept over the island, uprooting trees and turning the tiny rivulets into foaming torrents. The usually placid surface of the lagoon became a seething cauldron, huge breakers sweeping completely over the reef and lashing themselves upon the rock-strewn beach. Well it was that the lads had hauled their craft above the reach of those breakers, for on the morning following the commencement of the storm not a vestige of the hull of the _San Martin_ was to be seen. Fortunately the house was solidly constructed. The hail pelted on the iron roof, the windows rattled and the doors shook to such an extent that it became necessary to barricade them, while almost incessantly the lightning flashed and the thunder rolled in deafening peals. While the rains lasted there was very little outside work done. Welcome as were the showers at first, they soon became monotonous. It was too hot to wear oilskins, the ground was too soft to walk on without sinking ankle deep in mire, so that the castaways were thrown upon their own resources to pass the time as well as they were able within doors. Lack of books had been their greatest discomfort, even the study of the Spanish charts and treatises on navigation became a pleasure; paper and writing materials they possessed, and Mr. McKay systematically wrote up his diary. But the task that gave the lads the greatest pleasure and amusement was their efforts to teach Quexo English. The mulatto was a willing though difficult pupil, and was doubly handicapped by being unable to write even his own language. Nevertheless, before the rainy season was over, Quexo could understand most of what was said to him, and was able to reply in weird sentences and phrases that often set the lads laughing. At length the "off season"--as Terence termed it--passed, its departure being marked by almost as severe a hurricane as the one that preceded it. Then for three days and nights a thick mist overspread the island. The air resembled that of a hothouse, without the least suspicion of a breeze. On the morning of the fourth day the sun shone in an unclouded sky, the mud disappeared as if by the touch of a magic wand, and the inhabitants of McKay's Island awoke to their life of outdoor activity. "I think we will do well to postpone the time of our departure for another month," remarked Mr. McKay. "We shall then have more chance of a wind, and the zone of the Trades will extend farther north by then. We shall have plenty to see, too, in a month." "I want to get the motor fixed up," observed Andy. "I think my plan for making a water-jacket will succeed, and installing the engine and tuning it up will take quite a week." "If you succeed the motor will prove invaluable, especially if we lose the benefit of the Trades," replied his father. Andy was hard at work making a propeller. This he did by means of two sheets of steel plating riveted to an iron boss; for, in order to prevent the boat from being unduly kept back while under sail alone, he had decided to have but two blades, which when at rest were up and down, in line with the boat's stern-post. Terence, who was also of an engineering turn of mind, had embarked upon a somewhat ambitious programme. He meant to use the dynamo for lighting purposes. "But," objected Ellerton, "what's the use? We are leaving the island shortly." "Possibly; but I am looking beyond then, Hoppy. Provided I could be sure of a passage to 'Frisco occasionally I would not mind settling down here. No doubt I am indulging in wild day-dreams, but still, my plans may mature, and there's a living to be made out of the island. But to deal with present events; the dynamo will be of great service to us, as we can recharge those accumulators we brought ashore. Then Andy will be able to use electrical ignition for his motor instead of the slower and more uncertain lamp ignition." "Quite so, Terence," assented Andy. "So carry on, my boy." Thus encouraged, Terence, assisted by Ellerton and Quexo, dug a deep trench close to the brink of the lower terrace, the side of which he lined with thick planks from the wreck. Next a water-wheel, twelve feet in diameter, was constructed, the paddle floats being cut from the iron plates obtained from the same source. A portion of the ship's piston rods formed the axle of the wheel, a grooved drum being attached to take the driving belt of the dynamo. At length came the critical test of Terence's work. The stream, once more diverted, was conducted into the trench, and as the last barrier to its progress was removed the water rushed through its new channel. Then, with a cascade of silver splashing from its floats, the wheel began to gather way, and was soon spinning merrily. "That's all very fine," exclaimed Andy, who had left his work to view the opening ceremony of the McKay Island Power Company. "But how are you going to stop the wheel? It will soon wear its axle out at that rate; and, besides, we can't have that noise day and night." "Never thought of that!" replied Terence. "We must make a hatch to trap the water when we don't require the power." Two days later the dynamo was in full working order. The lads were highly delighted, and suggested several schemes for making use of the electric current. Then came Andy's triumph. After many difficulties and failures he succeeded in duly installing the motor in the yawl, and on a trial trip inside the lagoon the boat behaved magnificently under power. "We'll have a trip round the island to-morrow," he exclaimed, as the craft was moored for the night. "Let's turn in early so as to make a start immediately after sunrise." The morning dawned bright and calm, with no wind. "It will mean running under power," observed Andy, as the lads, laden with provisions and tins of kerosene, wended their way to the shore. "I mean to----" He stopped, his eyes fixed seaward. His companions followed his gaze, and simultaneously there was a shout of: "A sail!" CHAPTER IX UNWELCOME VISITORS "Great Scott! It's a native canoe," declared Mr. McKay. "And she's heading straight for the island!" The craft was some little distance from the entrance to the reef, her huge brown sail hanging idly from its yard, while the crew vigorously plied their paddles as they made the water fly from her sharp prow. "Trouble in store?" queried Andy. "It's well to be prepared," replied his father. "I know these natives of old. Sometimes they are quiet and inoffensive, at another time they are bold and war-like, or, what is worse, extremely treacherous." "Then we must arm ourselves?" "Assuredly. Quexo, bring my glass." The mulatto darted off, and presently reappeared, bringing a glass of lime-juice. "Not that, you ass!" exclaimed Mr. McKay, laughing. "Glass--telescope--see?" and he raised his hands to imitate the operation of using a telescope. "I'll have the drink, anyhow." Once more Quexo ran to the house, this time bringing back the required instrument. "There are at least forty natives," said Mr. McKay, after a lengthy examination of the oncoming craft. "They may be armed. If so, their weapons are lying on the bottom of the canoe. But unless I am very much mistaken, there's a white man aboard." "A prisoner? Let me have a look, pater!" In his eagerness Andy almost snatched the telescope from his parent's hand. "A queer set of customers," he exclaimed; "but I don't think the white man is a captive, for he's talking to a fellow with his hair frizzed up a foot above his head." "We've seen enough for the time being," rejoined Mr. McKay quietly, "so we'll return to the house and serve out the arms. At the rate they are travelling, the canoe will be here in ten minutes." "They won't injure the boat?" asked Andy anxiously, for the yawl was almost like a child to him. "Not when they see us with rifles in our hands. Whatever you do, don't let them have reason to think we want to fight, and, above all, don't show any signs of fear." The party quickly strapped on their ammunition belts and revolver holsters, then, grasping their rifles, they hastened down to the beach. The canoe had by this time entered the lagoon, and its occupants had perceived the house and the other buildings, for they had ceased paddling, and were gazing in wonder towards the shore. Nor did the appearance of five armed men serve to set their minds at rest. "Hullo, there!" shouted Mr. McKay. "Hullo, there!" was the reply. "What's your game?" "What's yours?" replied Mr. McKay. "All square, governor. Can we land?" "Provided you keep your people in order," replied Mr. McKay, then turning to his companions he exclaimed: "By Jove! I know that fellow; he's no good, I'm afraid." "You know him?" "Yes, I met him on a pearl-fisher in Torres Strait twenty odd years ago. He hasn't changed much in appearance, and I'm afraid his manners haven't. Still, I'll not claim acquaintanceship with him at present." The paddles were resumed, and the canoe glided quietly to the shore. The natives, for the most part stark naked, began to tumble over the side, some grasping enormous clubs studded with sharks' teeth, and others long triple-barbed spears. "Tell those fellows to throw those weapons back into the canoe," shouted Mr. McKay sternly. "Otherwise we'll not permit them to land." The white man spoke a few words to the turban-haired native, who in turn uttered an order to his men. Instantly the weapons were thrown into the canoe with a loud clatter, and the natives, wading ashore, secured their boat and proceeded to squat in a semicircle. "My name's Blight--Jimmy Blight," exclaimed the stranger. Mr. McKay merely nodded his head in reply. He could not bring himself to say the words "Pleased to see you," for the simple reason that he was not. Jimmy Blight had had a chequered career. He was a man of about fifty years of age, some five feet eight inches in height, and of medium build. Years of exposure to a tropical sun had not left any trace upon his face, for his complexion was a chalky white. He had a bristling, dark moustache; cut high over the lips, a scanty crop of dark hair, a thin, straight nose, rather deep-set eyes that were continually shifting in expression, while his hands, the broad nails of which were bitten to the quick, showed little trace of hard work. When Mr. McKay first met him he was mate of a pearling vessel, and already he bore a bad reputation as a hard drinker and a card-sharper, while it was well known that his tyranny had more than once caused bloodshed amongst the Kanaka crew of the vessel. By his white associates he was commonly known as "Chinese Pork"--in other words, something very unpleasant. "Well, what can I do for you?" asked Mr. McKay bluntly. "The island's free, I guess?" replied Blight, with a leer that ill-concealed his natural aggressiveness. "So long as you behave yourself; but should one of those men touch so much as a copper nail, we'll send you to the right about in double quick time. Understand?" "Yes, boss. But how about a drink? You seem fixed up pretty comfortable here." "You can have as much water as you want at the stream. Beyond that, I'm afraid we cannot provide you." "Humph! Must take pot-luck, I suppose. Say, are you traders?" Mr. McKay did not think it advisable to answer. "What's your business, might I ask?" he inquired. "It's a long story, boss. You see my mates here"--indicating the group of squatting natives--"belong to the island of Ahii, which lies seventy miles nor'west of here. In fact, I was very comfortable along of 'em, but might is right in these parts, I'll allow." "Chinese Pork" paused to allow the weight of this sentence to take effect, but Mr. McKay betrayed no sign. "So a few days ago a tribe of natives from Teku came and drove us out. There was a fight, you bet, but our fellows got the worst of it. So we hooked it, and took canoe to Ni Atong, which is less than twenty miles S.E. of Ahii. Ni Atong's all very well, only it ain't big enough, so we're trying to find a larger island to settle upon. There's close on a couple of hundred natives, and ten large canoes at Ni Atong. Strikes me this place 'ud suit, 'specially with white gents like yourselves for company like." "I'm afraid you must give up all idea of bringing your friends here, Mr. Blight, or yourself either." "Say, why?" "Because we cannot permit it." "Look here, boss," replied Blight with an impudent swagger. "How do you think you'll stop two hundred natives if they set their minds on landing here? Even I couldn't stop 'em." "Let them try," replied Mr. McKay. "Now, Mr. Blight, I cannot refuse you hospitality. Food will be sent down to you; then, when your men have rested sufficiently, I must ask you to leave this island." And turning on his heel, Mr. McKay began to make his way back to the house, the lads following him closely. Before he had taken a dozen steps the ex-pearler ran after him. "See here, boss; I don't mean to give offence--no offence meant--but you'll allow it's hard on a chap to be done out of his own crib by a pack o' niggers. And then you can't deny you've treated me off-handish, specially as you're the first white man I've seen these two years. So let's come to terms. I see you're well armed. Why not come back to Ahii with us, and make those chaps from Teku clear off back to their own island? Then the Ahii people won't want to trouble you. See?" "I'll consider the matter," replied Mr. McKay. "By the by, do you ever go to Tahiti?" "Not often, boss. I was there two years ago. When I've got a cargo of copra ready I send it by a native boat. Why do you ask?" "I merely wanted to know, Mr. Blight. But now I must be off. I'll send the provisions along shortly, and will give you a definite reply to your proposal in a few hours. It seems to me that the easiest way out of the mess is to accept the fellow's advice," remarked Mr. McKay as they entered their house. "We certainly don't want to try conclusions with a horde of savages on this island. No doubt we could beat them off, but in any case there is a considerable amount of risk. If I can get Blight to give me a guarantee--though I don't place much reliance on his word--backed by the chief's assurance that his men will not trespass upon the island, I think we can very well help them." "Do you think there will be much of a struggle?" asked Ellerton. "Between whom?" "The natives of Ahii and the natives who took possession of their island." "No; our presence will soon turn the scale, though we may not even have to use our firearms. You can rely upon it that I'll do my best to prevent bloodshed. Are you willing to go, lads? If you have objections don't hesitate to say so." "I haven't," said Ellerton. "Nor I," added the others. "Very well, then. Quexo, take this keg of flour down to the beach, and tell that white man that his people can gather as much taro and cocoanuts as they want, so long as they don't cross to this side of the stream. You understand? Do you think we might spare Blight a lamb, Andy?" "I think so, pater. We've twenty at least." "Then tell Quexo to take one down when he comes back. Now, boys, if we are going on this trip, we had better make preparations. We ought to start by sunrise at least, if we want to reach Ahii before dark." "But are we going straight to Ahii?" "No, by Jove! I forgot that for the moment. Of course, it will be much better to spend the night off Ni Atong--I suppose there's a lagoon--and proceed to Ahii on the following morning." "Well, Quexo," said Andy, on the mulatto's return, "what did the white man say?" "He say: 'Come here you number one size blackamoor. What your massa name is?' An' I say: 'I no number one size blackamoor; I no niggah, sah; an' my massa name me no give, massa he tell you his name if you ask.'" "That's a smart reply, Quexo," replied Mr. McKay, laughing. "There's nothing like keeping your master's counsel and your own. Now take that carcase down to the beach. Ellerton, you might take a stroll along the edge of the cliff and, without attracting undue attention, keep an eye on the rascals. I don't want them straggling across the stream." Thus bidden, Ellerton walked cautiously to the edge of the first terrace, then laying his rifle on the ground, stretched himself into a comfortable position so that he could see without being seen, and hear without being heard. Most of the natives had dispersed, and were busily engaged in seeking taro and cocoanuts, although they kept strictly within the bounds laid down by Mr. McKay. Blight, the chief, and a couple of natives had killed the lamb and were roasting it by the aboriginal method of caking it with clay and placing it in the red-hot embers of a fire. Although the white man cast several curious glances at the cliff, above which the roof of the house was just visible, he refrained from setting foot upon the path that led to Mr. McKay's settlement. Late in the afternoon Mr. McKay went down to the beach and informed Blight that he had decided to lend his aid, at the same time stipulating that the natives must promise not to molest the inhabitants of McKay's Island. The remainder of the yawl's stores were then carried aboard, Andy and Ellerton volunteering to keep watch on the boat while Mr. McKay, Terence, and Quexo took turns in patrolling the edge of the terrace. A tent, some blankets, and a few luxuries in the way of provisions were then sent down to the ex-pearler, while the natives prepared to sleep under the shelter of the palm trees and bushes. "If you see or hear anything of a suspicious nature, Andy," cautioned Mr. McKay, "here is a signal rocket. Don't use it except in circumstances that warrant our interference. You have plenty of ammunition?" "Seventy rounds of rifle ammunition and fifty revolver cartridges each. You'll see that another box of ammunition comes off in the morning." "Aye, aye," replied his father. "Now I think everything is ready to make an early start, so you had better be off." Then, having bade the rest of the party good night, Andy and his trusty companion descended to the beach, passed between knots of curious natives, and embarked in the yawl's tender. Five minutes later they were on board, and the ammunition stowed away within easy reach. The lads had made an excellent job in converting the ship's cutter. From the awning-covered well a short ladder led to the cabin. Here four roomy folding bunks, a swing table, plenty of lockers and racks had been fitted, while the linoleum-covered floor, the red baize curtains, and the polished brass lamp imparted an air of comfort. Overhead a skylight served to admit both fresh air and light. In the fo'c'sle, to which access could be obtained either by sliding doors between it and the cabin, or through a hatch on deck, were the sails, spare ropes, anchor cable, and a small stove constructed from one of the galleys of the _San Martin_. The motor had been installed under the floor of the well, while on the afterside of the cabin bulkhead was fixed a boat's compass, illuminated by means of the cabin lamp, so that the steersman could keep a course with comfort, whether by day or night. "Now, Hoppy, I'll take the first watch," remarked Andy, as the sun sank beneath the lofty peak of McKay's Island. "I'll turn you out at two in the morning, and then you can carry on till daybreak, if that will suit you." "Righto!" replied Ellerton. And turning in upon his bunk he was soon fast asleep, lulled by the slight motion of the little craft as she rose and fell to the gentle heave of the lagoon. CHAPTER X STRANGE ALLIES "Turn out, Hoppy!" Ellerton was awake in an instant, but forgetting that the cabin of a small craft does not possess unlimited headroom, he sat up and brought his head violently in contact with the deck beams. "What's up?" he exclaimed, grasping his revolver. "Anything wrong?" "No," replied Andy. "Only it's two o'clock, and your watch." "Goodness! I feel as if I've only been asleep five minutes." "Sorry for you, then, old chap, for you've got to keep awake five hours." So saying, Andy slid into his bunk, and within a minute his regular breathing showed that he was asleep. Ellerton took up his position under the shelter of the dew-sodden awning. Everything was quiet, save for the occasional splash of a fish as it played upon the surface of the placid water, and the ever-present rumble of the breakers upon the distant reef. Shorewards the outline of the island was dimly visible against the loom of the starlit sky, while a light from the seaward window of the house and the dull red gleam of the dying embers of the fire the natives had kindled were the only sign of human occupation. Yet, Ellerton reflected, the bush might be alive with savages, awaiting the opportunity to fall upon the settlement, murder his friends, and possess themselves of the valuable stores. Perhaps the story of the seizure of Ahii and the flight of the inhabitants to Ni Atong was a myth, invented by that rogue Blight for the purpose of luring the castaways into a false position. There could be no doubt about it, Ellerton's nerves were "jumpy." Perhaps it was that the suddenness of coming into contact with human beings other than his comrades had acted upon his nerves. Ellerton realised that he was entering into a new phase of his existence. He regretted it, for, beyond his natural anxiety concerning his parents, he had grown to love the isolated life on McKay's Island. Then, should Blight's story prove to be correct, Ellerton felt sure that Mr. McKay's action was the only course permissible. The little colony was to fight for its existence, and the more remote the scene of hostilities the better chance they had of securing the sole proprietorship of the island. Hist! A succession of faint sounds like those of a man stealthily swimming caused Ellerton to sit bolt upright, grasp his rifle, and peer intently through the darkness. There was no mistake about it. It was some object heading directly for the yawl, its track being marked by a faint blur of phosphorescence. Visions of bloodthirsty savages, swimming, knife in mouth, to surprise the crew of the little craft, filled Ellerton with alarm. He raised his rifle, released the safety catch, and took aim at the mysterious intruder. "Andy," he whispered, but his friend was too deep in slumber to be awakened by a whisper. "I'll wait till he's close alongside," muttered Ellerton, fingering the trigger. At that moment there was a perceptible jar alongside the boat, followed by a prolonged grating sound, as if a piece of sandpaper were slowly drawn over a rough surface. Then, with a swirl and a succession of phosphorescent splashes, the object vanished. The sound had roused Andy. "What's up?" he exclaimed, springing into the cockpit. Both lads looked over the side. Deep beneath the surface they saw a huge luminous shape slowly gliding away. "My word!" whispered Andy. "Can't you see what it is? It's a shark." "I thought it was some natives swimming off to us." "Never fear. They'll never attempt such a thing with a sentry like that brute," replied Andy as he re-entered the cabin. Slowly the weary hours passed, till the sun rose in a sky of misty grey, and the inhabitants of McKay's Island, both black and white, bestirred themselves into activity. "Not much wind, boss," was Chinese Pork's salutation as Mr. McKay and his companions arrived at the beach, whither Andy had rowed in the tender. "There'll be some before long," replied Mr. McKay. "It usually springs up about an hour after sunrise." "It'll mean a long pull if it doesn't," rejoined Blight. "Shall I lend you four or five hands to work the sweeps?" "I'll not trouble you, thanks. It's your men who will find it hard work, I fancy." "Say, why? You just see them use those paddles. They'll keep it up for hours at a stretch. Your craft'll be the tail end of this 'ere procession, I guess." "We shall see," replied Mr. McKay quietly, for he had no desire to enlighten the ex-pearler upon the subject of the motor. "Say, boss?" "Well?" "That's a rum packet," said Blight, indicating with a jerk of his thumb the boat the lads had made from the wreck of the gig. "I bet you never bought her at Hilo?" Mr. McKay did not reply. He quite realised that the ex-pearler was trying to pump him, while, on the other hand, he was equally determined to conceal the fact that he and his companions were on the island through shipwreck. Although Mr. McKay hated deception, he wished to convey the impression that they settled here by choice, yet Blight's question showed that he kept his eyes open. "Are you ready to start?" demanded Mr. McKay. "There's a wind springing up from the south-east'ard." "As soon as you like. But can you lend me a revolver, cap'n? I've got a bloomin' Martini, but I've run out o' cartridges months and months ago." "Here you are, and here are fifty cartridges. I'll make you a present of the pistol," replied Mr. McKay, though he realised that he was playing into the man's hands. Then, without waiting to receive the ex-pearler's thanks, he stepped into the boat and was rowed off to the yawl. "Good morning, Ellerton," he exclaimed. "All quiet, I suppose? Well, let's get the canvas on her." Already the natives were hauling their canoe down the beach, and by the time the yawl had set her sails the splash of a score of paddles showed that they had lost no time in embarking. "Up with your helm, Andy; check the jib sheets." Then, as the little craft drew clear of the land, the freshening breeze caused her to heel and glide through the ruffled water of the lagoon. By the time they had gained the passage through the reef the yawl was ahead of the canoe. "Glorious!" ejaculated Andy. "See, they're setting their sail. It will be a good race, after all." Half a dozen bronzed natives were setting the raking mast and bending the yard with its enormous sail of cocoa fibre. Then, as the sail rose swiftly in the air, the breeze filled the mat-like canvas. The crew took in their paddles and watched the yawl with curious eyes. "We are gaining on her, I think," remarked Andy. "Yes; we must shorten sail," replied Mr. McKay. "But I want particularly to note the respective speeds of the two craft. I should think that, under sail and aided by her paddles, that canoe could overhaul us under sail alone. Yes," he continued, after a few moments' careful observation. "I think I've seen enough in case of future developments, so we'll strike the topsail." Under reduced canvas the yawl kept the canoe at a regular distance from her, neither gaining nor allowing the latter to overhaul her. Quexo, fearing an attack of sea-sickness, had retired to the seclusion of a berth in the fo'c'sle, while Ellerton and Terence, who had kept the last portion of the previous night's watch, followed his example, though from other motives. Andy was steering. His father, who had given him the course, was below preparing a meal. The wind held steadily all the forenoon, and by eleven o'clock the summit of McKay's Island had dipped beneath the horizon. It was not without feelings of regret that Andy saw it disappear. He, too, realised that they were embarked upon a hazardous mission, and that possibly great sacrifice would have to be made ere they returned to their island home. At midday the wind died away to a flat calm, the yawl rolling sluggishly in the oily swell, with her boom swaying violently from side to side, and threatening dire disaster to the heads of any of the crew that incautiously came within its reach. The canoe, similarly situated, did not hesitate to lower the sail, and paddle close alongside. "This is a bit rotten, cap'n," shouted Blight. "Shall I give you a tow?" "No thanks, don't trouble about us," replied Mr. McKay. "You can paddle on ahead, and we'll follow when the breeze springs up. If we can't fetch Ni Atong before dark you might get those fellows to light a fire on the beach, so that we can come up to the anchorage." "Righto, boss! Ta-ta!" There was a peculiar glint in the man's eye. He fancied that the superior speed of the canoe under paddles was an asset in his favour for the events he had already planned. The chief gave the word, the blades dipped, and, gathering way, the canoe soon gained a rapid pace. The long-drawn song of the paddlers gradually died away as the distance increased, and an hour later the canoe was lost to sight. "Now, Andy, we'll start the motor, and creep up within a couple of miles of Ni Atong. They will think we have picked up a breeze." "Why don't you want to let that chap Blight know we've a motor?" "Frankly, Andy, I don't trust him. If he plays a straight game, well and good; but, should he act treacherously--and I have every reason to believe he will, judging by his past career--we must keep a trump card up our sleeves. That's why I wanted to make sure of the respective speeds of the two craft, for you may be certain that, since the chief is in her, yonder canoe is the largest and swiftest they possess. Under power we can easily outstrip her, I have no doubt." No sooner had the motor started than Terence and Ellerton appeared. "Hullo! Where's the wind?" asked the latter. "And where's the canoe? added Donaghue. "Hull down," replied Andy. "They've gone on ahead to give us a house-warming. Now, you fellows, get yourselves something to eat, and then give us a spell. I'll let you have the course. Keep your weather eye lifting, and look out for a breeze. It may come down suddenly." "You bet I will," assented Ellerton. "How far are we from Ni Atong?" "About twenty miles. Directly the island hoves in sight call us." At about four in the afternoon Terence, who had climbed the main-mast and had taken up a perch upon the diminutive cross-trees, reported land ahead. Mr. McKay and Andy were instantly warned, and, a breeze springing up, the motor was shut off. Half an hour later the heads of a patch of palm trees were visible from the deck. "That's Ni Atong, right enough," commented Mr. McKay, as bit by bit the land appeared to rise above the horizon. "Blight told me that the entrance to the lagoon is easily picked out." Ni Atong resolved itself into a low, regularly outlined island barely two miles in length. Its surface was covered with dense scrub and a few cocoanut palms, the soil being apparently loose and sandy. So far as could be seen, a coral reef extended round the island at a distance of half a mile from the shore, the rocks in places protruding above water to a height of nearly three feet. "There's another island showing up on our port bow, sir," announced Ellerton. "Then that's Ahii. It's a lofty island something like ours, judging by the appearance of that mountain. However, we'll hear and see more of it later on. Now, Andy, we are approaching the reef. Do you climb aloft and con the boat in through the channel." This is the only practical method of entering an unbeaconed lagoon, for owing to the sudden increase in depth, a lead line is of little use. On the other hand, the extreme clearness of the water makes it possible for a man aloft to detect instantly any rocks or shoals that lurk beneath the surface. For the space of five minutes it was an anxious time. On either hand the breakers thrashed themselves in masses of milk-white foam upon the glistening coral reef, while ahead a narrow patch of undulating, yet unbroken water showed the presence of the only available channel into the shelter of the lagoon. "Starboard--bear away--starboard again--port, steady!" Under the light breeze the yawl was in danger of dropping to leeward upon the merciless rocks. One moment her stern was lifted high in the air, the rudder consequently being useless. The next she threw her streaming bows above the following wave, then, shaving the edge of the reef by a bare five yards, the little vessel glided into the quiet waters of the anchorage. The crew now had time to look about them. Drawn up on the sandy beach were seven large canoes, similar to that which had paid an unwelcome visit to McKay's Island, while others, only slightly smaller in size, were hauled up beneath the shelter of the bushes, their lofty carved prows alone being visible. The beach was lined with natives, numbering at least 180 men, besides a host of women and children. The men were of medium stature, muscular, and well built. In colour they resembled that of Quexo, being considerably lighter than the natives of New Guinea. Many of them bore scars, possibly self-inflicted or the result of inter-tribal wars. "Stand by to let go!" shouted Andy to Terence and Ellerton. Then, as the yawl shot up into the wind, he followed up with: "Let go!" With a roar and rattle of chain the anchor plunged to the bottom of the lagoon, and as the crew prepared to lower and stow the sails, Mr. McKay waved his arm towards the crowded shore. "Well, lads," he exclaimed, "what do you think of our allies?" CHAPTER XI THE FRUSTRATED SACRIFICE "A rum-looking crowd," observed Terence. "They look as if they could do a lot of damage, though." "Yes," replied Mr. McKay, "I am sure of it. These fellows often fight for fighting's sake, and a pretty spectacle they make of it at times. I've seen them at it before." "What, these natives?" "No, the inhabitants of New Guinea. They are strongly associated, however, not only in manners and customs, but in language. I must polish up my Polynesian lingo, though after acquiring a smattering of Spanish I'm afraid I've become very rusty. Come, now, hurry up and snug down, and we'll go ashore." "Armed, of course?" "Yes, certainly. Take your revolvers only. I don't think we need fear anything at present. If there's to be trouble it will be after the natives have made the best use of us." Accordingly the little crew worked with a will; then, directly the canvas was stowed and a second anchor laid out, the whole party went ashore. They were received with great show of goodwill, the natives crowding round them with shouts of welcome, while the ceremony of rubbing noses was duly performed. Several of the women advanced bearing long garlands, and, to the undisguised bashfulness of the three lads, placed the flowing chains round the necks of their visitors. Quexo, however, was denied that honour. He was a coloured man, and therefore, in the eyes of the natives, of no consequence. "You made a quick passage, boss, after all," observed Blight. "Aye, we picked up with a breeze," replied Mr. McKay, though he did not offer to explain when the breeze was encountered. "They've prepared a feast for you," continued the ex-pearler. "So let's put our best foot foremost." At a short distance from the shore was a large clearing, temporary huts made of branches and leaves of palm trees being erected in a vast double circle. Here a number of natives were busy baking pigs and fowls, while there was an abundance of yams and cocoanuts. "They are very improvident with their supplies," remarked Andy. "They evidently seem as if they are certain of returning to the land of plenty." "Yes," replied his father, who had taken an early opportunity of examining the roasted pigs to make sure they were pigs. "We may as well set-to and enjoy their hospitality; now, keep close together and see that your pistols are easy to draw." The chiefs, each distinguishable by his huge mop of greased and frizzed hair, had squatted in a semicircle, and no sooner had the guests seated themselves than there was a terrific scramble on the part of the native chiefs to help themselves. "We must forget for the moment that we are civilised and follow their example," remarked Mr. McKay, seizing a bit of pork in his fingers. His companions did likewise, and notwithstanding the absence of knives and forks they managed to eat and enjoy their share of the feast. This done, there was a war-dance performed by the young men of the tribe, the warriors brandishing their clubs with such energy that it seemed wonderful that no one was hurt. The natives did not appear to use their heavy clubs for the purpose of knocking their imaginary adversaries over the head; instead, they utilised the upward swing of their arms, lunging with the weapon on its upward stroke. Andy particularly noticed this, and remarked it to his father. "Yes," was the reply. "It's a favourite 'knock-out' blow with these fellows. I've seen them at it in actual combat. The idea is to get underneath their antagonist's guard, and strike him on the chin with the upward sweep of the club, and knock him senseless. Afterwards the winning side secure those who are only stunned and----" "And what?" "Eat them!" At length the display came to an end, and the guests prepared to return on board. Mr. McKay had attempted to converse with some of the chiefs, but the result was a failure. He therefore told Blight to inform the chief that an early start was to be made on the morrow. The news was received with redoubled shouts of delight, and the entire population escorted the white men to the beach. Nor did they stop there, for men, women, and children rushed headlong into the sea, and formed a huge bodyguard of swimmers till the yawl was reached. All round the boat the water was black with the heads and arms of the swimmers, for these natives of the Pacific Islands take to the water often before they can walk. Splashing and shouting loud enough to scare every shark within a mile, they swam round and round the yawl, none offering to climb aboard, till at a shout from one of the chiefs they turned and swam rapidly to the shore. "We must set watches to-night, I suppose?" asked Andy. "Certainly! Although these people are supposed to be our friends, we must imagine ourselves in hostile waters. I remember once that a small schooner put into Niihau. The natives came off to barter, and appeared to be extremely friendly. During the night about a couple of hundred swam off to the schooner and took her crew entirely by surprise. We found the charred remains of her timbers about a month afterwards, but not a trace of her unfortunate crew. They had been made into 'big pig.'" "What's that?" asked Ellerton. "Otherwise killed, roasted, and eaten." "Then what happened?" "The usual. Gunboat, landing party, etc. The village was shelled and burnt, and the island afterwards annexed to the Empire. So, you see, we must exercise due caution, although I don't want to upset your nerves." It must have been shortly after midnight when the crew was awakened by a warning shout from Terence. Turning out of their comfortable bunks, the others rushed from the cabin, armed in anticipation of a sudden and treacherous attack. A low rumbling greeted their ears, the sound apparently coming from the shore. For more than a minute the mysterious sound continued, then it suddenly ceased. "What is it?" asked Donald. "I'm afraid I cannot tell you," replied his father. "It's rather like the sound of a submarine explosion; probably a volcanic eruption." Again the noise was repeated, yet no agitation of the placid water took place. The natives did not appear to be disturbed, for no commotion due to human agency could be heard from the island. This time the rumbling continued for quite five minutes, dying away in a succession of long-drawn tremors. Then all was quiet. "I can't make it out," remarked Mr. McKay. "Whatever it is it seems to be accepted by the natives without a protest. To-morrow I'll inquire." The party remained on deck for nearly an hour, but as the mysterious noise was not repeated, they at length retired to the cabin, leaving Terence to continue the remainder of his watch. Just after sunrise Ellerton called Mr. McKay's attention to something on the beach. Seizing his glasses, the elder man brought them to bear upon the spot, and the next moment he exclaimed: "Come on, lads, get your arms and row ashore as hard as you can." Without waiting for an explanation, the three lads jumped into the boat, Mr. McKay taking his place in the stern sheets. "Don't look ahead; keep your eyes on the boat and pull," said Mr. McKay quietly, yet there was a grim, determined expression on his face that betokened trouble ahead. The moment the little craft touched the beach the lads jumped out, and led by Mr. McKay, they made their way at top speed along the sandy shore. Fifty yards from where they landed was the chief's canoe, which had been hauled up on shore since the previous night. At regular intervals betwixt its lofty prow and the water were six dark objects lying on the sand. The lads gave a gasp of horror, for lashed firmly to bamboo poles were six natives. Their fellows were preparing to launch the canoe over their bodies. "Stop that!" shouted Mr. McKay sternly, holding up his hand to arrest the progress of the heavy craft, which was quivering under the grasp of fifty stalwart blacks. The natives hesitated, glaring at the interrupters of their ceremony, while some of the chiefs made signs for the interfering strangers to stand aside. "Where's Blight?" shouted Mr. McKay, as he opened the cut-off of the magazine of his rifle. "Here I am, boss," replied that individual, coolly sauntering forward. "Tell them to knock off this horrible business." "Let 'em carry on, boss," was the reply, almost apologetic. "You see, they ain't got no prisoners, and the chief's canoe must be launched in this 'ere way, else it's bad luck. So they picked on some of their least wanted pals. Bless me, you'll soon get used to it. I did years ago." "You can tell them from me that the moment that canoe moves we'll open fire. You might also explain that if our wishes are not carried out, we'll go back to our own island, and those rascals can stay here to starve. Now be quick, and let them know we mean business. Cover these tow-headed rogues," he continued to his companions. "If I give the word, let fly continuous volleys till the rest of the rascals bolt." Evidently the chiefs knew the power of the white men's rifles, for they stepped back a few paces. Some of their followers grasped their clubs and spears, and courageously awaited their leaders' orders. Jimmy Blight spoke rapidly. At first his words seemed to enrage the chiefs, but finally they expostulated. "What do they say?" "They are willing to let the brutes free if you promise that your power'll keep off the--the--you know what I mean, boss, the----" "Evil eye?"' suggested Mr. McKay. "Aye, that's it." "You can tell them that there's nothing to fear on that score. Let them know that six men alive are worth something, and that six squashed to a pulp will do them no earthly good." Once again Blight turned to the half-pacified chiefs, a rapid exchange of words followed, and in the end the latter signed to their people to free the captives from their terrible position. "That's over, thank God!" ejaculated Mr. McKay with intense fervour. "Tell the chiefs I'm going to make them a present," and putting his rifle to his shoulder he fired six shots in the air in rapid succession. Astonishment held the natives spell-bound; they had never before seen a magazine rifle discharged. The sharp "crack" of the weapon, its smokelessness, and the peculiar screech of the nickel bullets filled them with awe, and with great hesitation they accepted the six empty cartridge-cases as an exchange for the release of the intended victims. "They've given you a tally, boss," observed Blight. "They call you 'The Wonder that Breathes Fire.'" "I hope they will bear it in mind then," replied Mr. McKay. "Now let them proceed with the launching operations. When all is ready we will set sail. By the by, what was that noise we heard last night?" he inquired, turning to the ex-pearler. "Noise! What noise, boss?" "A kind of prolonged roar of distant thunder. Twice it occurred." "Oh! I know what you mean. We don't take no notice of it in these parts. It's the 'Barking Sands.' See yon hills?"--pointing to a ridge of sand dunes about sixty feet in height. "The stuff's slippery like, and often it rolls down, and makes a row. There's a sight of other islands about here like it." Half-an-hour later a flotilla of nine canoes, crowded with armed natives, paddled slowly towards the entrance of the lagoon. As they passed the white men's craft, their paddles rose in the air to the accompaniment of a sonorous salute. Then, as the dripping anchor rose clear of the water, the breeze filled the sails of the yawl, and she, too, started to play her part in the hazardous enterprise. Another five hours would decide whether Ahii would fall into the hands of its former possessors, and, what was still more important, the fate of the little band from McKay's Island. CHAPTER XII AT BAY Once clear of the reef, the canoes ceased paddling, and the brown cocoa-fibre sails were hoisted. The yawl, by reason of her superior spread of canvas, soon forged ahead till, drawing in line with the largest canoe, in which were Blight and the head man of the tribe, the speed was regulated so as to keep within hailing distance of the ex-pearler. Mr. McKay had already been given a rough chart of the island of Ahii. Like their own island and Ni Atong, Ahii was surrounded by a reef, only that on the eastern side the rocky barrier practically touched the shore. There were four large passages through the reef, two on the southern side--which they were approaching--one on the western, and the fourth on the northern. The summit of Ahii was clearly visible from Ni Atong, and as the flotilla neared the island its peculiarities could be gradually discerned. It was considerably larger than McKay's Island, and composed chiefly of a dark brown rock, its flat portions covered with verdure. The general outline resembled a saddle, the higher of the two peaks being over two thousand feet above the sea. But in place of the glistening sands of McKay's Island there was a beach of black sand, apparently the ground-up deposit of lava, for from the lower of the two peaks a thin cloud of smoke was emitted, showing that Ahii was still an active volcano. At the western termination of the beach was perceived the entrance to a small creek, while beyond this opening low, dark-coloured cliffs rose sheer from the sea. The approach of the invaders was observed long before the flotilla reached the entrance of the lagoon, and by the aid of their telescopes and field-glasses the crew of the yawl saw that the beach was lined with warriors, armed with formidable beak-headed clubs, long spears and oblong shields, the natives being bedecked with barbaric finery and plentifully bedaubed with paint and ochre. "That's their boat harbour," shouted Blight, pointing to the creek. "Their canoes are drawn up on the banks about half-a-mile up the river. The village is on the port side. Shall I tell our men to push right in and burn their blessed canoes?" "No," replied Mr. McKay. "I don't want unnecessary violence; besides, if their canoes are destroyed, how can they leave the island? Let our boats remain about two hundred yards from shore. You will then stand in the chief's canoe and tell the natives to clear out. Say that we give them till midday. Otherwise we must open fire on them." "Then you don't want these fellows to have a set-to?" "No! No bloodshed unless it cannot possibly be avoided. Now carry on and we'll be ready to open fire to cover your retreat if they give trouble." Blight could not but obey. The chief's canoe was paddled slowly towards the shore, the natives regarding the late inhabitants of Ahii with contemptuous gestures not unmingled with curiosity. They expected a mad rush, a fierce conflict on the shore, and an easy victory; but the apparently timorous approach of a solitary canoe mystified them. [Illustration: THE CHIEF'S CANOE WAS PADDLED SLOWLY TOWARDS THE SHORE] The ex-pearler stood up and shouted to the hostile chiefs. Whether he gave Mr. McKay's message in a conciliatory manner the Australian was not in a position to ascertain. More than likely, Blight, with a white man's contempt for "niggers," put his own construction upon the request, for before he had spoken half-a-dozen sentences there was a blood-curdling yell, and a shower of stones was hurled at the canoe. The crew paddled out of range, while their companions, with loud counter-shouts of defiance, urged their boat to the attack, till by dint of much hand-waving Mr. McKay kept them temporarily in check. "They've asked us to come ashore and be made into 'big pig,'" shouted Blight. "Shall we let our men loose?" "Not here," replied Mr. McKay. "Paddle along the shore and we'll make a landing as far from the village as possible. That will give the enemy a chance to clear out if they get the worst of it." Headed by the yawl, the little fleet kept parallel with the shore, a crowd of about two thousand armed savages keeping pace with the invaders, yelling, dancing, brandishing their weapons, and hurling the direst insults of which the natives were capable at their apparently inferior enemies. "It must be a sharp lesson, lads," observed Mr. McKay. "What wouldn't I give for a Maxim or an automatic Colt. Ellerton, you take the helm and keep the boat just so, no nearer to shore." The flotilla was now abreast of that part of the beach that was terminated by the cliffs. Here the flat shore consisted of a wedge-shaped piece of ground, so narrow that the enemy was unable to take due advantage of its superiority in numbers. The rapid fire of four magazine rifles would play havoc with the dense serried ranks of bronzed and painted warriors, but still Mr. McKay refrained from making the first advance. "Let them fight it out between themselves," he shouted to Blight, who, however eager he was to send the natives to the fight, did not show any strong inclination to lead them. "We'll open fire if our fellows get the worst of it." It was plainly impossible to keep the invaders in hand. With a roar of defiance that momentarily drowned the yells of their more numerous adversaries, the natives urged their canoes towards the shore. Then, as craft after craft grounded upon the beach, their crews dropped paddles, grasped their clubs and spears, and plunged waist deep into the water. It was a veritable struggle between a host of bronzed paladins. Clubs met with a loud and ponderous clang, spears met shields or else found a softer billet, while those of the defenders of the island who could not gain the van hurled enormous stones over the heads of their foremost ranks at their vindictive foes. Above the shouts of the combatants could be heard the shrieks of the desperately wounded. Several received serious wounds on both sides, yet save in extreme cases, they bore their hurts bravely, returning to the fray with the utmost determination, till failing strength caused them to drop, still fighting so long as they could wield a club or thrust with a spear. Twice the rightful inhabitants of Ahii gained a footing on the shore, and twice were they swept back by the weight of numbers, for as fast as one of the defenders fell, another filled his place, while on the other hand the invaders had no reserves. True, there were the white men, but it was impossible to wield a rifle without serious consequence to friend as well as foe. "How these fellows fight!" exclaimed Andy. "They simply won't give way; they'll be exterminated." "It's fighting for fighting's sake," replied his father. "We must chip in or we'll find ourselves opposed to the whole island without a native to help us. Luff her up, Ellerton. That's right; now keep her as she is." The yawl moved slowly in the opposite direction to her previous course, though still parallel with the shore. By this means the scene of the actual struggle was passed and only the serried rearguard of the defenders was abeam. "Now, lads, aim low!" The four rifles opened a rapid fire. It seemed like butchery, yet, as Mr. McKay had said, there was no alternative. Twenty human beings cannot stop a modern rifle-bullet fired at one hundred yards' range. The defence seemed to melt away, and with redoubled shouts of triumph the friendly natives started in pursuit of the fugitives, knocking over the head all who were overtaken. "If those fellows won't keep in hand, they will be in danger of being cut off," exclaimed Mr. McKay. "We must follow our friends up. Ellerton, you stay on board, and keep our craft underway." Hurriedly the two McKays, Terence, and Quexo jumped into the tender, rowed ashore, and followed the ghastly trail of the victorious natives. It was a hazardous undertaking, for some of the fugitives had fled inland instead of following their main body in their retreat upon the village. At any moment these might rally and fall upon the little band of white men, the dense scrub being favourable for such tactics. There was no sign of Jimmy Blight. He had not accompanied the natives in their first attack, although he was known to have been in the chief's canoe, nor had he made his appearance when the white party landed. "Keep a bright look-out, lads," cautioned Mr. McKay. "Have your revolvers ready. They are more serviceable than rifles here." At almost every yard of the way lay natives either dead or grievously wounded. Many of the latter were bold enough to attempt to rise and threaten the white men. So far as possible, the wounded were ignored, greatly to their surprise, for a savage rarely gives and never expects quarter. Once or twice, however, a warrior would spring to his feet after the white men had passed, and with his remaining energy throw his club or spear at his enemies. In that case it became necessary to silence the desperate native for ever. Suddenly from the shelter of a dense belt of scrub three powerful blacks dashed upon Quexo, who had strayed a few yards behind the rest of the party. The mulatto raised his revolver and fired, and a huge native sprang a good three feet in the air and tumbled on his face. But ere Quexo could repeat his shot a triple-barbed spear pierced his shoulder. He fell, the weapon still embedded in his flesh. The man who had thrown the lance drew a stone knife, and threw himself upon the prostrate mulatto, while the third native raised his club to complete the business. With admirable presence of mind Quexo shot the man with the club, who in his fall completely covered the hapless mulatto. Alarmed by the first shot, Mr. McKay and the two lads ran to the aid of their companion, but ere they emerged from the bush a third shot rang out, and the savage who had hurled the spear at the mulatto fell shot through the head. Then as Andy rushed to the spot where Quexo lay, Jimmy Blight stepped from the cover of a group of palm trees. "Not a bad shot, eh, boss?" he exclaimed, as he thrust fresh cartridges into his revolver. "You'd best get your young fellow on board as quick as you can, I reckon." Quexo was groaning dismally, now the actual struggle was over. The triple spear-head had made a ghastly wound in his shoulder, for in his fall the haft had broken off short. Mr. McKay managed to extract it skilfully. In the midst of their misfortunes the roar of the combatants came nearer and nearer. The enemy had rallied; the savages were driving back their attackers. Already men were streaming by, flying for their lives. "Guess we'd best hook it," exclaimed Blight. "Bear a hand, Andy," said his father, as he pointed to his helpless servant. "Don't be a fool, boss!" shouted the ex-pearler, who was already beginning to retire. "He's about done for, and we'll be the same if we stop. Come along!" "Not I," replied Mr. McKay sturdily. "You go if you want to. Come on, Andy, move him across to yonder thicket. We'll make a last stand here if it comes to the worst." Something in Mr. McKay's reply must have appealed to the better nature of this low-down specimen of the white race, for, turning swiftly on his heel, he returned. Kneeling beside the unconscious man he helped himself to his bandolier, revolver, and rifle. Without another word the four men lifted Quexo to the shelter of the trees, and quietly and resolutely made ready to receive the horde of triumphant savages. CHAPTER XIII ELLERTON TO THE RESCUE Already the last of the fugitives had passed, rushing blindly for the shelter of their canoes, and the foremost of their pursuers were emerging from the clearing. Mr. McKay, cool in the time of extreme peril, calculated that only about a hundred of their allies remained alive, while, making due allowance for the tremendous execution, there were at least a thousand bloodthirsty foes. Four against a thousand! "Don't fire yet!" he whispered. The main body of the savages crossed the clearing at breakneck rate, and disappeared in the direction of the beach, but others came at a more leisurely pace, examining those of the fugitives who had fallen. Those who showed signs of life were bound hand and foot, for what purpose the white men had no doubt whatever. Presently the keen eye of one of the savages caught a glimpse of one of the rifle barrels. The man was evidently a chief, for, in addition to his coat of paint, he wore a short cloak of feathers. Without a moment's hesitation the savage uttered a loud shout and ran straight in the direction of the white men, followed, at a distance of about twenty paces, by some fifty yelling natives. "You take that fellow, Blight!" exclaimed Mr. McKay quietly. Blight raised his rifle to his shoulder, took a sight in the centre of the chief's broad chest, and pressed the trigger. "Missed, by smoke!" he cried, for the man came on steadily. It was the work of a few seconds to open and close the bolt of the rifle, and in that time the chief still ran on; but before Blight could discharge his weapon a second time, the native's knees appeared to give way, and he pitched headlong on his face. All four men were firing fast into the hostile press. The rush was stopped, although some of the savages came near enough to hurl their spears, several of which stuck in the trunks of the palm trees behind which the little band took shelter. Many of the attackers fled for safety, others did not deign to run, but retired slowly, brandishing their weapons at their enemies as they did so. Some paid for their rashness, for it was a case of fighting for existence, and every native put out of action told. "The beggars are going to corral us," exclaimed Blight. "See, they are running round to our left." A couple of volleys drove the natives back still farther, yet without attempting to take cover they continued their tactics of trying to cut off their enemies' retreat. The South Sea Islanders rarely resort to strategy in actual fighting. They may, indeed, take steps to surround their enemies, and then charge fearlessly to close quarters. The white men were even now surrounded, for the advanced body, having failed to prevent the embarkation of the discomfited invaders, had been attracted by the sound of the firing and had completed the hostile cordon. In the lull that ensued, Mr. McKay contrived to place a temporary bandage over Quexo's shoulder. The mulatto was still unconscious, but showed no symptoms of having been poisoned by the spear thrust. "I wonder what Hoppy is doing?" remarked Terence, after moistening his parched lips with a draught from his water-bottle. "I guess he's in a terrible stew." "He may manage to make our friends attempt another attack. If so, we can bolt for the shore; though I'm not going to put much faith in that," replied Mr. McKay. "They've had too much of a licking, I fancy." "Pity you didn't let us burn those blessed canoes, boss; these black rascals will be able to follow our craft now." "Yes, I admit I erred on the side of mercy, Mr. Blight," was the reply. "It's my fault, and I must take the blame." "That comes o' being so mighty particular," retorted the ex-pearler bluntly. "If we come out o' this I guess your opinion of a nigger will have an almighty change. Now, stand by, for here they come." "Don't be taken alive, lads," continued Mr. McKay, and the next instant the rifle-fire reopened. Upon the dense masses of natives every shot told, yet having only one rifle for each front the fire was not sufficiently extended to keep the advancing enemy at bay. The air was filled with shouts and shrieks, while stones and spears flew in deadly showers. Once the magazines were empty there was no time to recharge. The heated rifles were flung aside and the revolvers were brought into use. The four men shot rapidly and well, the heavy lead bullets stopping the headlong rush far more effectively than did the nickel rifle ammunition. Once again the attack failed, the savages drawing off and leaving at least fifty of their number dead or wounded on the field. Not one of the enemy had got within twenty yards of the death-dealing weapons of the white men. "Now, boss," gasped Blight, as he bound a discoloured silk handkerchief round a spear-scratch on his left wrist. "Shall we make a bolt for it? We can fight our way to the shore." Mr. McKay pointed to the still unconscious Quexo. "Put a bullet through his head. He won't feel it. Why should we chuck away our chance for a wounded nigger?" "Look here, Mr. Blight, I've told you before you can go if you want to. Here are two revolvers you can take; there's a good chance now, so go, and good luck to you! I must stay here--what do you say, lads?" Terence and Andy grimly signified their intention of remaining with their stricken comrade. Blight saw there was a chance, but, in his opinion, far from a good one. Although the spot the little band had chosen for their stand was within a hundred yards of the sea, to return to where the canoes had landed their armed contents was at least a quarter of a mile distant. Then, again, directly he left cover and began to run, a hundred natives would join in the pursuit. Even could he manage to fight his way through the ring and outstrip his pursuers, there was a long swim in front of him. Good swimmer though he was, Blight recognised that he was decidedly inferior in speed to the amphibious natives. "I see it's no go, boss," he exclaimed. "So let's stick at it to the end. Come on, you black fiends!" he added, shaking his fist at the dark masses of warriors, as they prepared to renew the attack. "Don't waste a single shot," cautioned Mr. McKay. "Here's the main attack, so direct a combined fire in that direction, till they get within fifty yards. Then each man must look to his front and do his best." The words were scarcely spoken ere the fierce yells of the savages redoubled, and the rush began. Scorning to take advantage of the slightest bit of cover, they raced furiously, leaping over the low scrub that would have stopped a civilised race. Then the rattle of the rifle-fire rose above the shouts of the natives. Scores were hit, some falling on the spot, others running several yards ere their strength failed, while many of the wounded, in their mad thirst for vengeance, staggered after their comrades in an endeavour to launch themselves upon the white men. No longer was there need to raise rifle to shoulder. Firing from the hip, the little knot of desperate men emptied their magazines into the throng of natives, then, casting aside their rifles, as before, they grasped their revolvers, hardly daring to hope to check the headlong rush. Suddenly to an accompaniment of a peculiar screech, a trail of thin smoke flashed earthwards from the sky. Then, with a terrific report, an explosion took place right in the middle of the surging pack of savages, and ere the cloud of dense, suffocating smoke cleared away, the natives fled in all directions. Some, indeed, were so terrified that they fell flat on their faces, clapping their hands to their ears to shut out the echoes of the thunderous report. Those who were on the remote side of the encircling body of natives, though far from the scene of the explosion, were also seized with panic, and the whole crowd, save those who had been hit or were too dazed to move, fled helter-skelter for the village. For a full minute none of the white men spoke. Terence and Andy looked with utter amazement at the retreating foes; Mr. McKay and Blight, more hardened in peril, seized the opportunity to thrust fresh clips of cartridges into their magazines. "Guess a gunboat's been dropping a shell," observed Blight, who was the first to break the long-drawn silence. "You are wrong," replied Mr. McKay quietly. "A shell would never throw out a cloud of smoke like that; it's not the colour of lyddite either." "Then what is it? Who fired it?" "Young Ellerton," was the astonishing reply. Mr. McKay was correct in his surmise. Ellerton, on seeing his companions start in support of their coloured allies, was not altogether at his ease. He kept tacking the yawl, so as to be within easy distance of the landing-place in case of a hasty retreat on the part of the invaders. Gradually the sounds of the running fight died away; but no report of firearms served to show that the white men had got in touch with their foes. Seen from seaward the scrub seemed almost so thick as to be impassable. Mr. McKay and his companions were literally swallowed up in the trackless waste that lay beyond the low range of cliffs. Ellerton looked around at the canoes. Beyond a man left in each as a boat-keeper they were deserted. Blight had vanished; when and where the young Englishman knew not. Suddenly the distant report of a revolver burst upon his ears. He knew it to be a pistol shot, for it had not the short, sharp crack of a rifle. That meant foes at close quarters. Then came two other reports in quick succession, followed by a prolonged silence. The firing reassured him. He realised that his friends were not with their savage allies, and that they were, in consequence, between the village and the beach. Rightly enough he guessed that they were dealing with a party of stragglers, the noise of only three shots and the absence of rifle-fire showed that the conflict was brief and decisive. The youth tacked once more, and steered eastward along the beach. Again the long silence filled him with a nameless anxiety. He regretted the evil day when Blight and the natives came to McKay's Island; but in the circumstances nothing else could be done. They had put their hand to the plough; there was no turning back. Then, gradually but surely, came the sound of the natives still engaged in conflict, unaccompanied by the report of firearms. There was no mistaking it. Their allies were being driven back; but where were the white men? Nearer and nearer came the sounds of the retreating natives and their pursuers, till the foremost of the fugitives gained the shore. Jumping into their canoes they pushed off, panic-stricken and utterly fatigued. Then came the main body, a sorry remnant at most, grimly fighting their foes at almost every step. Waist deep in water they fought, till the survivors contrived to escape in their boats. Two canoes were left unmanned, their solitary occupants paddling laboriously out of the reach of their foes. Nor did the pursuit cease at the water's edge, for several of the enemy dashed boldly into the waves and swam after the retreating craft. One of the latter was, indeed, overtaken, and a desperate struggle ensued between the rival natives, till the crew of another canoe, seeing their companions' plight, returned and saved them from being wiped out. Then the flotilla moved well out into the lagoon, and took up a position beyond the yawl, the natives, many of them badly wounded, being too exhausted to paddle another stroke. Ellerton was now confronted with a real peril. His friends, if alive, were cut off; he was unable to gather any tidings from the natives, who replied to his gestures by grunts and meaningless exclamations. Just then came the rattle of musketry. At all events, Mr. McKay and his party were still in a position to offer resistance, but against what odds? Just then the wind, hitherto light, died utterly away. Ellerton knew nothing about the motor, and he himself was now in a position of peril. Unable to move, save by using a sweep, which was hard work, he was at the mercy of the savages, who, lining the shore, had realised his predicament, and were preparing to swim off and carry the yawl by storm. Ellerton had plenty of rifles and revolvers, but even then he could not hope to keep the mob of foes at bay. Seizing a rifle, he sprang upon the cabin-top and opened fire. It was a fairly long range--some six hundred yards--but Ellerton gauged the distance to a nicety; with the correct elevation, missing a man in that throng was about an impossibility. A commotion showed that the shot had taken effect. Another with equally good result! Ellerton again felt the lust of battle. Suddenly, in the midst of his cool and deliberate firing, a blow from the boom nearly knocked the youth overboard. The breeze had again sprung up. Recovering himself by grasping the main shrouds, Ellerton laid his rifle on the deck and jumped into the cockpit. He meant to steer along the coast towards the village, and, if possible, aid his friends by a long, dropping fire. His progress was slow, the wind being still light, and ere the yawl had travelled a hundred yards the firing on shore died away. What did it mean? He thought. Were his companions at length overwhelmed by dint of numbers? If so he would take revenge; he would cruise up and down the shore and blaze away so long as a savage remained on the beach, or a cartridge remained on board. And after? He gave but a brief thought to that--a solitary existence on a boat far from the little island he regarded as his home--but the thought filled him with the rage of despair. Steering by means of the tiller between his knees, Ellerton headed diagonally towards the shore, at the same time charging the magazines of half-a-dozen rifles. While thus engaged, to his astonishment and delight the sound of firing was resumed, the scene of action being nearly abreast of where the yawl was steering. He immediately hove-to, and again ascending the cabin-top, looked ashore. The scrub and several small groves of cocoanut palms prevented him from seeing the combatants, and on this account he refrained from opening a dropping fire, for fear of harming his friends. He was in a helpless state of perplexity till all at once a thought struck him which gave him new-born hope. The night he and Andy kept watch on board, in the lagoon of McKay's Island, they had taken some rockets to use should they require assistance. These rockets were of the ordinary sea-pattern, making a loud explosion by means of a small charge of gun-cotton. Hurriedly Ellerton fixed one of the rockets so that it would assume a curved flight instead of soaring upwards, then turning the vessel's course till the direction of the projectile would be as near as possible towards the scene of action, he discharged the novel weapon. * * * * * "That was a lucky thought of yours, Ellerton, my boy," exclaimed Mr. McKay, when the little party was safely on board. "They scooted like rabbits. But, by Jove! it was a narrow squeak." CHAPTER XIV ROUTING THE SAVAGES There was not the slightest doubt about it. The expedition had failed disastrously. Quexo was badly wounded, the white men all more or less exhausted, while barely forty utterly demoralised natives were cowering in their canoes. "Well, we can't stay here," remarked Mr. McKay, after the mulatto's hurts had been dressed and the wounded man placed on one of the bunks. "They will be starting in pursuit, I'm thinking, and so, Mr. Blight, will you tell those black rascals to man two of their canoes and destroy the others? By that means we may be able to get the survivors back to Ni Atong." Mr. McKay's opinion of the ex-pearler was undergoing a change. No doubt the man was a bit of a scoundrel, he thought, but he was older and possibly more of a reformed character than in the old days in Torres Strait. He had certainly fought well and had impressed the lads as a resolute and cautious combatant. "I'll tell 'em, boss," he replied. "But, by snakes, it's a bad look-out." "It is," assented Mr. McKay, as he prepared to go below and bind up a slight wound on his shoulder. "Your friends will have to be content with Ni Atong for a while, I'm thinking." Andy was also in the cabin, where he was attending to a surface wound on his forehead--the legacy of one of the savages' showers of stones--so only Terence and Ellerton remained on deck with the ex-pearler. "Couldn't the boss bring over the rest of your pals and settle our score with those niggers?" "What pals?"' asked Terence, taken aback by the suddenness of the question. "Why, the other chaps on your island." "There are none," replied Terence. Barely had the words escaped him, when he realised that he had made an admission. He had revealed the comparative weakness of the defences of McKay's Island. "Oh! Is that so?" was the rejoinder. Blight said no more on the subject, for the yawl was now within hailing distance of the forlorn flotilla. The natives accepted their white companion's orders without demur. The two most serviceable canoes were brought up with their full complement, and the rest were scuttled till they floated awash--useless to friend or foe. Then with a light breeze the three craft--the yawl leading the forlorn procession--headed for the opening in the reef. Jimmy Blight was thinking. He was not of a thinking nature, but scheming and plotting were the only intellectual subjects in which he excelled. In fact, he was a past master in the art of intrigue. He briefly summed up the situation and enlarged upon it. His house and store at Ahii were in the hands of a hostile race of savages. His wealth of copra and other valuable native products had vanished. Had his black friends been able to regain possession of Ahii, he would not have hesitated to incite them to fall treacherously upon the white men from McKay's Island, and the doubtless valuable stores of that place would be his. Now, with fewer than forty of his savage friends at his command, the risk was too great--at least at present. No, he must wait his time, return to Ni Atong, and endeavour to find an opportunity of surprising and slaying the handful of whites. If only he dared! With a fully charged revolver he might make a sudden attack---- This wicked scheming was suddenly interrupted by a shout from one of the canoes. The keen-eyed savages had detected an ominous movement ashore. Their enemies were launching their canoes in pursuit of their discomfited adversaries. "Say, boss!" exclaimed the ex-pearler, as Mr. McKay emerged from the little cabin. "What's to be done now? There ain't no wind, in a manner o' speaking, and those reptiles'll overhaul us hand over fist." Mr. McKay did not reply at first, but anxiously scanned the shore with his glasses. "There are seven canoes," he announced. "Three for us to tackle and two for each canoe. 'Tis long odds, but I reckon we'll come out on top." "Why not get aboard the canoes, and let this 'ere packet go?" asked Blight. "There'll be more chance with the blacks using their paddles. It'll be a flat calm in a minute or so." "No," replied Mr. McKay. "We'll fight it out as we are, though we've had quite enough for one day." The crews of the two friendly canoes were still lying on their paddles, realising that their only hope was in remaining by the white man's boat. Their indifference had vanished, and weapons were brandished in a way that showed a grim determination to fight to the death. "Tell them to paddle for all they are worth," exclaimed Mr. McKay. "What for?" demanded Blight, his old aggressive manner beginning to return. "What's the use? Let's keep together, I vote." "I mean to," replied Mr. McKay coolly. "Now do as I tell you." Sullenly the ex-pearler obeyed, and the natives, plying their paddles to the accompaniment of a mournful chant, soon increased the distance between them and the almost becalmed yawl. "Now, Andy, start the motor." Great was Blight's astonishment as the engine began to purr, and the little craft shot through the water at a good eight knots. He had never seen an internal combustion engine before. Although motor-driven craft are common amongst the pearling and trading fleets in the Pacific, he had left the fishing-grounds some years before the first motor had made its appearance. Nor was the wonder of the crews of the friendly canoes any the less. To them the white man's boat, vomiting clouds of vapour from the exhaust and producing a series of rapid explosions, was nothing more or less than a fiery-dragon. "We are going the pace too much," remarked Andy, for the yawl was easily outdistancing the canoes, whose crews were showing signs of physical distress. "Yes, we must stand by them," replied his father. "See, our pursuers are gaining; you are quite sure the motor is thoroughly tuned up, I hope?" "Running like clockwork," was Andy's enthusiastic reply. "Good! Now, lads, it's revolvers for this business. Get the canvas off her, then. Keep well under cover; I'm going to ram the leading canoe." The sails were quickly stowed, and the bowsprit run in. The five men, revolvers in hand, kept in the cockpit so as to be sheltered by the raised roof of the cabin. "Now, Ellerton, how's your nerve?" "Perfectly fit." "Then put your helm over when I give the word and strike yonder canoe square amidships." The pursuers had trailed out in a long, straggling line, a couple of hundred yards separating the foremost from the second. On they came, fearlessly. Ellerton could see the foam flying from the sharp prow, the muscular backs of the straining oarsmen, and hear the steady yet rapid thud of the paddles. Now he could discern the whites of the eyes of the fierce-looking warriors who were gathering in her lofty bows. "Make due allowance for the way she carries," cautioned Mr. McKay. "Now, hard over!" The youth at the helm put all his strength against the tiller. The yawl rolled outward as she turned, then recovering herself rushed straight for her gigantic antagonist. With a yell of defiance the savages let fly a shower of arrows and stones. The masts and deck were literally bristling with darts, while the stones rolled like hail upon the planks. Under the protection of the cabin-top the white men escaped the deadly volley, but Ellerton, gripping the tiller with a vice-like grip, felt a hot, stinging pain in his left arm. Then, crash! Fair in the centre of the lightly-built fifty-feet hull struck the sharp stem. There was a terrific splintering of wood and the gurgling sound of inrushing water, while at the same time the fore part of the yawl was crowded with a score of black fiends. [Illustration: CRASH! FAIR IN THE CENTRE OF THE LIGHTLY BUILT FIFTY-FEET HULL STRUCK THE SHARP STEM] Then the revolvers barked, and the living mob of savages melted away, and the next instant the yawl was ploughing her way over the shattered remains of the war-canoe. "Hurrah!" shouted the crew. "Now for the next!" But the second canoe, profiting by her consort's misfortunes, turned and paddled rapidly back, to obtain the support of the third. With a difference of barely one knot in speed the advantage of the motor-driven vessel was lost, so the crew had to be content to keep out of range of the arrows and pour in volleys from the rifles. It was a stern lesson, but one that was absolutely necessary, for the remaining canoes turned tail and paddled hurriedly for the shore. The sharp and short conflict was ended by the return of the two friendly canoes, whose crews, with true savage instinct, completed the work of destruction by spearing every man whose head remained above water. "Capitally done, Ellerton!" exclaimed Mr. McKay. "You--Why, what's the matter with the lad?" The lad's face had turned a ghastly greyish hue, and only Andy's prompt action saved him from falling upon the grating of the cockpit. "Look! He's hit!" said Andy, pointing to Ellerton's left arm, which had hitherto been concealed. In a trice Mr. McKay cut away the wounded youth's shirt-sleeve. The arrow had gone through the fleshy part of his forearm, the barb projecting quite a couple of inches. "Hold his arm as firmly as you can," said Mr. McKay. Then, grasping the haft of the missile, he dexterously snapped it in two. In spite of his care and skill, the slight motion caused the lad to utter a groan; but the worst was still to come. Lubricating the broken shaft with some cocoanut oil, Mr. McKay told Andy and Terence to hold Ellerton's arm tightly, so as to compress the veins and arteries, and consequently numb the limb. Then with a rapid and deliberate motion he laid hold of the barbed end and drew the fragment of the missile through the wound. With a low moan Ellerton fainted. "Couldn't be better," remarked Mr. McKay. "Now, lads, take him into the cabin, and start the stove as fast as you can. I'm afraid the arrow is poisoned." Andy and Terence lifted their comrade upon one of the bunks opposite to that on which Quexo was peacefully slumbering. Mr. McKay had given the mulatto a strong sleeping draught; he now took up a rifle, and, withdrawing the cleaning rod, snapped it close to the "worm." "You might take the helm, Blight," he remarked. "You know the course? I shall be busy for half an hour or so." Blight nodded. Left alone, he gave a glimpse at the compass, put the tiller up till the vessel lay on her proper course, and motioned to the two canoes to follow. Then he resumed his meditations. Everything seemed in his favour. Half a dozen revolvers, thrown down after the fight, were within hand's reach. In the cabin were two wounded persons and three totally unsuspecting unarmed men. And close by were the two canoes containing his coloured associates. What could be easier? CHAPTER XV A KNIFE-THRUST IN THE DARK More than once Blight bent over the array of death-dealing weapons, but on each occasion his nerve failed him. Accustomed as he was to deal swiftly with the natives, never hesitating to shoot down any black creature that thwarted him, he shrank from tackling his intended victims. Not from feelings of compunction did he pause; he was a coward at heart, and the thought of a possible failure filled him with a horrible dread. So, nervously sawing at the tiller, he gnawed his lower lip and formed fresh plans for evil. Meanwhile Mr. McKay, unconscious of his peril, proceeded with his preparations. He deeply regretted the fact that the case of surgical instruments salved from the _San Martin_ was at that moment--like the Dutchman's anchor--left at home, or rather on McKay's Island. In the final hurry of embarkation that important item had been overlooked. Grasping the glowing portion of the cleaning rod, Mr. McKay approached the unconscious lad. Once more telling the other two lads to hold the patient's arm firmly, he inserted the red-hot metal into the wound. It was the work of a few seconds, but the operation of cauterising the wound was accomplished. Time alone would tell whether this rude surgery was a success or not. An hour later the low-lying island of Ni Atong was in sight, and just before sunset the yawl and her two native consorts entered the lagoon. It was a pitiful home-coming. The miserable remnant of the fleet of canoes told the tale, and already the beach was lined with a crowd of wailing women and crying children, with a sprinkling of old men, whose services had been dispensed with on the fatal expedition. The latter had good cause for being cast down. In many of the Pacific Islands old age is looked upon as a useless qualification, and, failing a crowd of prisoners to serve as sacrifices and to appease the warriors' appetites, it was their aged and infirm fellow-tribesmen who were doomed to die to keep the angry gods good-tempered. "Coming ashore, boss?" asked Blight, as if he did not care one way or the other. "I can give you a shakedown in my hut." "I'm afraid we cannot manage it," was the reply. "You see, with our two patients it is out of the question." "Well, well! Maybe it will be best, 'specially as them natives are going to have a bit of a bust-up to-night. You mayn't like it, though I'm used to it. When do you set sail for your own island?" "To-morrow at dawn." "Oh!" Mr. McKay looked up sharply. There was a strange sound about that "Oh!" The ex-pearler realised that the exclamation was a weak expression of regret, and hastened to explain. "I thought as how you would be wanting fresh water, 'specially for your two young chaps. Make a day of it, and have a spell ashore. One more day won't make no difference like." "Possibly not," assented Mr. McKay. "Then there are yams and plantains. They'll be rare good for feverish fellows. You're welcome, you know." "I'll see what the others say. So now, Blight, my son can row you ashore." "This is a present, isn't it, boss?" asked Blight, pointing to the revolver that he had used to such good purpose at Ahii. "Certainly, I gave it you," was the reply. "Thanks!" Blight picked up the weapon and thrust it with assumed carelessness into his belt; then, bidding the crew of the yawl good night, he stepped into the dinghy. Hardly had the sun set, than the wearied crew retired to the cabin for rest and refreshment. Ellerton was awake, feverish, and at intervals in great pain. Quexo still slumbered. Andy and Terence were sleepily nodding their heads in an almost vain endeavour to keep awake. Mr. McKay, though utterly done up, announced his intention of keeping watch on deck the moment he had finished supper. Just as the moon rose, a blood-curdling roar came from the island. Instantly the two McKays and Terence rushed on deck. Fires gleamed in the centre of the wretched village, and around the flames danced a hundred natives, yelling, screaming, and invoking their idols. "What are they up to, pater?" asked Andy, as his father scanned the shore with a pair of night-glasses. "Let me have a look when you've finished." "You had better not," was the reply. "Take my word for it." The lads understood. They were fairly well acquainted with the hideous orgies that are practised on these islands. "And to think we helped those villains," remarked Andy. "Well," admitted his father, "it was, as I said before, the only course open to us. Now, I think all danger is past. They are not strong enough to attempt to seize our island, so we can go back with easy minds." "I hope so," returned his son. "But my word, it's cost us something!" "I can't understand that chap Blight," said Terence. "He seemed mighty curious to know how many of us lived on the island." "You told him?" "Yes! I let the cat out of the bag, I fear." "You did?" replied Mi. McKay gravely. "I'm sorry; but perhaps there's no harm done. However, we'll set sail to-morrow morning in any case. I, for one, will not be sorry to say good-bye to Mr. Blight. Now, lads, you must turn in. I'll be all right here; and to-morrow, all being well, I'll make up arrears of sleep." Left to himself, Mr. McKay sat in the cockpit and watched the orgies ashore till the fires died out and the sounds of the worshippers ceased. Half-an-hour later he appeared, to all intents and purposes, to be lying in the stern sheets fast asleep. At about three in the morning the moon, now high in the heavens, threw her beams upon a strange drama. Swimming with eel-like swiftness and silence towards the unguarded yawl came three men. Two were natives, the third a white man, and each had a glittering knife betwixt his teeth. Grasping the boat's stern, Blight (for it was he) listened intently. Then, hearing only the sounds of deep slumber arising from the cabin, he cautiously placed his foot over the bobstay, and with slow and stealthy movement hoisted himself clear of the water. Having made sure that the deck was deserted, he climbed softly upon the fo'c'sle and proceeded to unfasten his revolver, which he had secured to the top of his head by means of a strip of cocoa fibre. Presently he was joined by one of the natives, and at a short interval by the second. Creeping towards the open skylight the miscreant listened once more. The loud ticking of the cabin chronometer and the deep, regular breathing of the sleepers, alone broke the stillness. Suddenly Blight perceived Mr. McKay's form lying with his head buried in his arm upon one of the seats of the cockpit. This was awkward. He raised his revolver, then reflected that ere he could reach the cabin after firing the fatal shot the occupants would be aroused. Sprawling full length upon the cabin-top, Blight watched the slumbering victim with considerable misgivings, till realising that Mr. McKay was sound asleep, he raised himself upon his elbow, and beckoned to the two natives. Uplifting his knife, Blight made an imaginary thrust, then pointed meaningly towards the sleeper. Just then a shark glided past the boat at barely an oar's length. Rising to the surface it turned on its back and snapped at some floating object. The sharp, almost metallic snap of those powerful jaws filled the would-be murderer with alarm. He realised that the sleeper might awake, and also that his own retreat was cut off. The sweat poured in torrents from his brow and ran down his chalky cheeks. But the sleeping man stirred not. Reassured, Blight again signed to the natives. Knife in hand the two glided along the narrow waterways, dropping noiselessly into the cockpit, and crept towards their unsuspecting prey. Blight, revolver in hand, followed, stopping by the side of the cabin bulkhead, ready to dive into the cabin and complete the murderous business the moment the fatal blow was struck. Like panthers the two natives launched themselves upon their victim, their knives flashed in the moonlight; the next instant they were buried to the hilt in the body of the sleeper. Ere the weapons could be withdrawn, two shots rang out in quick succession. One of the natives fell face foremost across the coaming of the cockpit, the other gave a spring and plunged lifeless into the sea. Then, before Blight could realise the sudden turn of affairs, he felt the contact of the muzzle of a smoking revolver against his temple. "Hands up, Blight!" exclaimed Mr. McKay resolutely. The would-be murderer's weapon fell from his nerveless grasp and immediately his hands were raised high above his head. The noise of the firing had aroused the sleeping inmates of the cabin, and Andy, Terence, and even Ellerton rushed through the narrow doorway into the well. "Get hold of a few pieces of lashing and secure the rascal," said Mr. McKay calmly. "You are not hurt?" asked his son anxiously. "Hurt? Not a bit of it. No thanks to this beauty, though. See!" And, still keeping the weapon at the would-be assassin's head, he pointed to the made-up figure of himself, in which the hilts of the two knives glittered in the moonlight. Andy and Terence lost no time in securing the ankles of the prisoner. Then ordering him to lower his hands, the lads deftly lashed his elbows together behind his back. "So, Mr. James Blight, alias 'Chinese Pork,' I find your delightful character has undergone little change during the last twenty years. One would have thought that your unpleasant experiences in connection with the _Sea Belle_----" "What d'ye mean?" gasped the prisoner, his eyes rolling heavily in his terror. "I beg you not to interrupt. A connection with the _Sea Belle_ would have taught anyone but an utter villain or a fool a lifelong lesson. I will pass over those minor affairs at Boni Harbour and Fortescue Strait, though by mentioning them you can realise that I know a good deal of your former career. What you've been doing since is of little consequence, though I'll wager that your existence will not bear investigation. Now, to complete your record, you've been caught in the act of attempting to treacherously slay your white--well, I won't say friends. Thanks to a merciful Providence, your schemes were thwarted. I am now going to keep you in custody till I can hand you over to justice at Brisbane, where you will have a fair trial and be allowed to answer to a number of various crimes." Mr. McKay paused to note the effect of his accusation, then he continued: "I am going to keep you a close prisoner in the fo'c'sle till we return to our island. You will then be kept in confinement ashore till such time as we are able to reach some island under the control of a recognised British governor. Have you anything to say?" The ex-pearler maintained a sullen silence, and, without offering any resistance, he was carried into the fo'c'sle and locked in, there to meditate on the fate in store for him. "Ellerton, go back to your bunk. You ought not to be here," exclaimed Mr. McKay. "But I feel all right again," replied the youth. "Probably you do, but with your arm in that state absolute rest is essential. So go. Andy, we've had enough of this island, so let's clap on all sail and shape a course for home." In the moonlight the entrance through the reef was plainly visible. There was a favourable breeze, so that the yawl could lay on her course without having to tack. As the anchor rose, a long-drawn chorus of shouts of rage came from the beach, and a swarm of arrows, all of which fell short, hurtled through the air. "So much for our native allies," observed Mr. McKay. "They are all in the swim in this business. No matter, they can do us no harm." To the accompaniment of a farewell shout of anger from the baffled inhabitants of Ni Atong, the yawl glided swiftly across the moonlit sea. CHAPTER XVI THE GALE Throughout the night the stiff little craft gallantly breasted the waves, making a much better passage than she had done on her outward voyage, and at sunrise the highest peak of McKay's Island appeared above the horizon. But with the rising of the sun the wind increased in force, and an hour later it was blowing half a gale, and dead astern. Trembling on the crest of a huge wave, then sliding with a sickening sensation down the green slope into the trough, the little craft held on her course, steered by Andy's sinewy arm. Mr. McKay, unable to keep his eyes open, lay deep in slumber upon one of the bunks. Ellerton, propped up by cushions, was kept awake by the motion of the boat, every lurch causing his wound to pain horribly. "Another couple of hours will find us home, Hoppy, old man," exclaimed Terence cheerily, as he entered the cabin. "But it does blow." "So I should think," replied Ellerton. "But how is she behaving?" "Like a cork; we've only had the tail end of a couple of seas aboard. Well, cheer up! Make yourself at home and wish you were," and with this pleasantry Terence returned to keep Andy company. Each time the yawl breasted the summit of a wave, the peak of McKay's Island could be seen rearing its head above the waste of storm-tossed waters. Each time it did so it appeared to be getting nearer. Andy knew that there was danger ahead, but he forebore to mention the fact to his chum. The "back-wash" from the terrible reef, with its accompaniment of a tumble of dangerous cross-seas, had to be encountered, and the risky passage through the coral barrier made at all costs. For half-an-hour more the seas, though high, were comparatively regular, but at the expiration of that time the dinghy, which was being towed astern, was filled by a vicious comber. The dead weight of the water-logged craft caused the stout painter to snap like pack-thread, and the next instant the tender was lost to view in the turmoil of foaming water. "Can't we go back for her?" shouted Terence, for the howling of the wind made ordinary conversation inaudible. "Impossible!" replied his chum. "She would be swamped before we hauled to the wind. Besides, the dinghy's done for." "It's a rotten look-out. We shall miss her." "Yes," assented Andy. "But it can't be helped. Look here, Terence, now we are going through a patch of broken water. I can see it a mile or so ahead. We may have a few seas on board, so lash yourself to this cleat and stand by with the bucket. You may have to bale for all you're worth." Terence closed the cabin-doors. Fortunately they were close-fitting and comparatively watertight; but, on the other hand, the cockpit was not a self-emptying one. Whatever quantity of water broke over had to be baled out. "We'll have one of those cans of kerosene out of that locker," continued Andy. "Going to start the motor?" "No; to throw oil on the sea. Kerosene's not very heavy, but it's all we have. Now, stand by, here it comes." Only a mile now separated the yawl from the entrance to the lagoon of McKay's Island, but every yard of that mile was beset with dangers. Andy gripped the tiller, and braced himself for the ordeal. He had been the chief workman in the task of converting the boat into her present form, and now his handiwork was to be put to the test. A faulty piece of wood, a defective screw, an unsound rope--and their lives would have to answer for it. With a dull roar a white-crested wave broke over the fore-deck, burying the little yawl as far as the mainmast; then ere she could recover herself another comber came like a cataract over the lee quarter. Well it was that both lads had taken the precaution of lashing themselves on, otherwise they might have been swept clean out of the well. Andy, wellnigh breathless--for he had been hit in the side by the tiller as the boat attempted to broach to--retained sufficient presence of mind to thrust the helm up and enable the craft to meet the next following wave stern on. "Bale!" he shouted. "Bale for your life!" and seizing the kerosene can that was floating from side to side of the cockpit, he splayed a quantity of oil over each quarter. Terence, who was thrown in every direction as far as his tether would allow, struggled manfully with the bucket, but could hardly cope with the frequent showers of spray that literally played over the boat from every point of the compass. The helmsman noticed, with feelings of deepest concern, that the yawl had made considerable headway since entering the zone of broken water, and it would be touch-and-go whether they could avoid being carried on to the lee side of the coral reef. It was now nearly high tide, and the cruel ridges were covered, although in the trough of the heavier waves the jagged lines of glistening coral showed themselves above the smother of foam. Andy tried his best to keep the boat's head towards the channel, but in vain. She had lost ground, and was driving straight for the reef. One chance alone remained. He must put the yawl about and endeavour to claw-off the treacherous reef. Like a top the little craft responded to the shift of the helm. For a few brief seconds the reefed head-sail slatted violently in the howling wind; then, to the accompaniment of another tremendous sea, the yawl staggered on her fresh course. Andy's idea was to sail round to the lee side of the island and cruise about in the shelter of the reef till the gale moderated; but a few moments sufficed to show him that the spread of canvas--already as much as the vessel could carry--was not sufficient to take her to windward. She was drifting broadside on to the reef. "Quick, Terry!" he shouted. "Tell them to stand by and make a rush directly you open the cabin door. The yawl's done for. She'll be smashed to splinters in five minutes." Mr. McKay received the appalling intelligence fairly calmly. He at once proceeded to fasten a lifebelt round Ellerton's practically helpless form, and then did a like service to Quexo. Nor did he forget the prisoner, Blight. But, on sliding back the fo'c'sle hatch, he found the man lying senseless on the floor. Either he had fainted through sheer fright, or he had been stunned by being thrown against one of the lockers, and bound hand and foot, had been unable to help himself. Blight was no feather-weight, but in spite of the plunging and rolling of the doomed craft, Mr. McKay gripped him with one hand and dragged his senseless body into the cabin. Then, cutting his bonds, he completed his work of mercy by lashing the sole remaining lifebelt round the body of his would-be murderer. "You've nothing to put on," gasped Ellerton. "True; but I have my strength," was the reply, as Mr. McKay stealthily girded on a leather belt in which hung a formidable sheath-knife. It was not the thought of being cast on the waters that troubled him. Death, should it come, would be swift and merciful. But should they survive the dangers of the reef there was the probability of far greater peril. Though he forbore to mention the fact to Ellerton, Mr. McKay thought of the sharks, and with a fervent unspoken prayer to save them from these creatures, he stood ready for the cabin door to be opened. Meanwhile Terence and Andy had cut themselves free from their lashings. Twenty yards away the reef showed its teeth as if waiting for its prey. Then with a noise like the rattle of musketry, which drowned the thunder of the breakers, the staysail burst asunder, and the yawl, in spite of the helmsman's efforts, flew up into the wind. Down in the trough of a murderous sea she sank. A rapid glance astern showed the glistening reef towering several feet above the little craft, the white foam pouring down the honeycombed ridges as if the rock were baring itself to strike a harder blow. "The door!" gasped Andy, as a gigantic roller bore down upon the reef. Terence unfastened the cabin door, and as Mr. McKay appeared, holding Ellerton and Quexo in his powerful grip, the yawl seemed to stand on end. Then, borne on the breast of the roller, the little craft was tossed like a cork right over the rocks, her keel scraping the lee side of the reef by barely a yard! The next instant the vessel was rolling sluggishly in the sullen swell within the lagoon, with two feet of water in her cabin, yet still afloat and in comparative safety. "Don't wait to bale out!" shouted Andy. "You take the helm, pater. Run her up into the wind and we'll anchor." The ground swell inside the lagoon was too great to allow the yawl to run alongside the usual jetty. They would have to wait till low tide, when the reef would be sufficiently exposed to serve as a breakwater. Quickly Andy and Terence made their way for'ard to let go the anchor. When within a couple of hundred yards of the beach the yawl was again put head to wind, and with a splash the anchor plunged to the bottom of the lagoon. But just as Andy was checking the out-rushing cable, a sudden blow from the staysail caught him unawares, and the next instant he was struggling in the sea. The waves carried the lad clear of the vessel, and in spite of his utmost efforts he was unable to regain the boat. His father hurled a coil of rope, but the line, being wet, became entangled and fell short. Andy saw that it was impossible to swim back, so with a cheery wave of his arm he pointed towards the surf-beaten shore, and immediately struck out for land. For an instant Mr. McKay intended to plunge into the sea and accompany his son on his perilous swim, till the thought of the possibility of Blight recovering his senses occurred to him. With Ellerton and Quexo disabled, the margin of safety was not sufficient when only Terence remained to guard the prisoner. Both lads were surprised to see Mr. McKay rush into the flooded cabin and return with a rifle and a belt of ammunition. "Don't alarm him," said Andy's father hurriedly. "But there may be sharks about." Placing the rifle on the fo'c'sle of the heaving vessel, Mr. McKay watched the progress of the swimmer with the greatest concern, at the same time keeping a sharp look-out for the expected appearance of the dreaded dorsal fin of one of the tigers of the deep. Steadily Andy swam shorewards, keeping up a slow yet powerful side stroke. Now he was in the grip of the ground swell. Once his feet touched bottom, but ere he could obtain a firm footing the "undertow" swept him backwards. The next instant he was lost to sight in a white-capped roller. The wave broke, then receded, but to the alarm of the anxious watchers there were no signs of the swimmer. Quickly the wide expanse of sand uncovered; then, just as another breaker was preparing to launch itself upon the beach, Andy sprang to his feet. Knee-deep in water he rushed up the shelving shore, and managed to grasp a ledge of rock ere he was again overwhelmed by the mighty torrent. Fortunately he was able to retain his grasp, and directly the rock uncovered he ran beyond the reach of the waves and sank exhausted on the beach. "He'll be all right in a minute," said Mr. McKay with a sigh of relief. "Now, Ellerton, you had better stay here while we get rid of the water; the bunks must be saturated. Come on, Terence, we've been through a great deal, and now, thank God, we are safely home; but all the same, we've plenty of work to do." Thus exhorted, Terence assisted Mr. McKay to lower and stow the mainsail and secure the fragment of the head sail that had caused so much mischief. This done, they plied buckets and balers till the level of the water they had shipped sank well beneath the floor-boards of the cabin. The yawl was no longer sluggish, but rose buoyantly as each roller passed under her. "This is the second gale from this quarter," remarked Mr. McKay, as they were partaking of a hastily cooked meal. "It's taught me a lesson. Had our boat been in her usual dock she would have been dashed to pieces. At the first opportunity we'll lay down a heavy set of moorings and keep her afloat. Here, thanks to the reef, the seas can never be really dangerous, though on shore they break heavily." "When shall we be able to land, do you think?" asked Terence, for the short, sharp motion of the boat as she pitched at her cable was beginning to prove distressing, both to him and Quexo. "In a matter of three hours Andy will be able to launch the other tender. We will then lay out another anchor, so as to make doubly sure, and get ashore. Is Andy still on the beach?" Terence went out of the cabin, and on returning reported that his chum was ascending the cliff path. "Now we'll secure this fellow Blight once more. I see he's coming round," continued Mr. McKay. Placing the prisoner again in the fo'c'sle he did not attempt to secure his arms and legs. He merely tied the man's thumbs with a piece of strong but fine cord, so that his arms were kept behind his back. Unless he attempted to struggle, the prisoner would feel but slight inconvenience, while this method was a perfect means of keeping him in a state of utter helplessness. Shortly after this was done Mr. McKay went on deck "to have a look round." Gazing landward, he saw Andy standing on the edge of the lower terrace, striving to attract his attention by means of a handkerchief tied to a stick. "There's Andy calling me up in the Morse code," said Mr. McKay. "I wonder what's up? Terence, will you please hand me over that signalling flag from the for'ard port locker?" Andy, though not an expert signaller, knew the Morse system fairly well. Slowly he transmitted the startling message: "_The house has been broken into!_" CHAPTER XVII BACK TO THE ISLAND Without hesitation Mr. McKay replied: "Do not go to the house. Remain on beach till you can launch boat." Andy gave the A.F., showing that he understood the signal, and descending to the shore proceeded to divest himself of most of his sodden clothing. "There's something amiss ashore, lads," explained Mr. McKay. "Andy's just informed me that the house has been broken into. Of course, it may be another unfortunate party of shipwrecked mariners, or a hurried visit of the crew of a passing ship. All I hope is that there are no natives on the island." "I wonder if any remained after the canoe left," remarked Ellerton. "Quite possible. I never thought of that, by Jove! They might have slipped away in the night in order to steal all they could lay their hands upon. In that case there are only a few. We may be able to hunt them out without much trouble. Still, I'm sorry it's happened." From the cabin Mr. McKay produced his pair of marine glasses. After a prolonged examination he exclaimed: "Yes, the door is ajar. I feel certain I closed it when I left." "We'll soon see what's amiss," said Terence. "See, the reef is uncovering and the wind is dropping." "Yes, it is," assented Mr. McKay. "Andy will be able to put off in the boat in less than an hour. Ellerton, I think you had better remain on board." "Why, sir?" "Because of your arm." "I'll take care of it. Besides, I can use a revolver with my sound limb if necessary." "Very well, then; only don't blame me if anything goes wrong. Quexo must stay in any case. There's no need to worry about Blight." In less than the predicted time Andy succeeded in rowing the small boat safely through the rapidly subsiding swell. Directly he came alongside, Mr. McKay and the two lads slipped on board, and with no greater inconvenience than a thorough drenching--to which they were now perfectly accustomed--the party landed at the natural quay at the foot of the path leading up to the house. Everything appeared quiet. A hasty glance at the two storehouses on the lower terrace revealed the astonishing discovery that nothing had been disturbed. "Strange," exclaimed Mr. McKay. "One would have thought that these would be the first places to be ransacked. Now, carefully, lads! Keep your firearms ready." Cautiously they scaled the cliff path and gained the terrace on which the house stood. Still no signs of human beings, except that the door was half open. Mr. McKay knocked quietly, then, pushing open the door, he entered. A strange sight met his gaze. Everything movable had been upset or pushed out of place; the floor of the living-room was littered with bedding and the fragments of earthenware vessels. "The brutes!" ejaculated Mr. McKay savagely. "They've capsized everything out of sheer mischief. I hope I'll be able to lay my hands on them." The lads, not without feeling of mysterious awe at the scene of wanton desolation, crossed the floor of the room and entered the sleeping quarters. Here the state of confusion was, if possible, greater than in the outer apartment; but a clue to the mystery was afforded by the discovery of the dead body of a sheep, its head wedged in between the bars of a chair. "Why," exclaimed Andy, "the sheep have broken out of their pasture! "Yes," replied his father. "They managed to find their way into the house, though how I cannot imagine. Something must have frightened them and there was a mad stampede. This poor brute contrived to get his head jammed in the chair, and in his struggles he broke his neck. We've had a rare fright, but, after all, there's nothing of consequence that cannot be set right." "Hadn't we better get Quexo ashore before it gets dark?" "Certainly, and Blight as well. I think the best place we can put him is in the small store. He'll be all right for one night, though I'm sorry to keep him bound." "The treacherous reptile deserves no consideration." "My dear Andy, we are not Nicaraguan revolutionaries. So long as he remains our prisoner we ought to treat him with the same amount of consideration that any other British criminal receives while awaiting trial. To-morrow we must find a place better suited for his reception." "There's the farthermost cave, the one beyond those where we've stowed the dynamite," observed Andy. "There's not much in it at present; we can build a partition over the opening and make a door." "Yes, it will be far more comfortable than his quarters in Ni Atong. We'll make a start to-morrow." Accordingly Mr. McKay and his son put off in the dinghy--which, by the way, was the larger though more awkwardly-shaped part of the _San Martin's_ gig--and transferred Quexo to the shore. The poor fellow was in a bad state, though his wound showed no signs of complications. Ellerton had had his hurts attended to as soon as the house was set in order. Beyond the inflammation caused by the searing-iron, his wound gave no reason for undue anxiety. "Now then, out you come," ordered Mr. McKay sternly, as Andy and he, armed in case of emergency, returned to the yawl. Blight obeyed. Indeed, there was no option. His face was a picture of utter cowardice and terror. "You ain't going to shoot me?" he whined. "No!" replied Mr. McKay. "I've already told you what I intend to do with you. So long as you behave yourself you'll be treated properly--far better than you deserve." With that the would-be assassin took his place in the boat, Mr. McKay seated beside him with a revolver in his hand, while Andy rowed. On arriving at the shore the captive's eyes were bandaged, and, still secured by his thumbs, he was led up to the first terrace and placed in the storehouse. Mr. McKay then severed the cord that bound him, the door was locked, and the rogue left to his own reflections. The following day was an exceptionally busy one. Ellerton, being unable to do any hard work, was dispatched into the grove to "round up" the sheep, while the three sound members of the establishment, after having conveyed the prisoner his food and water, set off for the cave that was to be prepared for his quarters. It was situated on the extreme end of the upper terrace, where the level stretch of ground tapered away till it ended in the sheer face of a high precipice. Outside the mouth of the cave was a belt of grass land about ten yards in width, the cliff falling to a depth of about seventy feet, while above the cave the rocks, too smooth to afford a foothold, towered to nearly a hundred feet. The cave was quite fifty feet in depth, and averaged ten feet in width, while its height in places was over twenty feet. Its entrance, however, was barely four feet wide and six in height. "There won't be much light for the poor beggar when once we've inclosed the entrance," remarked Andy. "That is so," replied his father. "I really don't see why we couldn't inclose a strip of land between the two cliffs, and let him have the run of it." "How inclose it?" "I think we can spare enough of the galvanised iron sheeting to make an unclimbable fence. Each sheet is ten feet in height, is it not?" "Certainly not less." "Then we'll make a start. Although we cannot possibly hope to complete the work to-day, we may reasonably expect to finish it to-morrow afternoon." The soil proved to be fairly soft, so that it was necessary to sink the base of the iron sheets at least two feet into the ground. Strong timber uprights with cross-braces of railway iron served to make the fence secure, a doorway being left to afford means of communication with the prisoner's quarters. "I think we have taken every possible precaution," remarked Mr. McKay, after the fence was completed and the bedding and the other necessary articles for the ex-pearler's use had been placed in the cave. "Of course, this business entails a considerable amount of extra work, for besides the feeding arrangements we must make a thorough examination of the fence every day." "Why? He cannot possibly pull it down, and I'm sure he will not be able to scale the wall." "There are at least two ways he might manage to escape. He could either burrow under the fence, or he might manage to spring from the top of a pile of furniture on to the upper edge of the wall. If we make a point of examining both sides of the fence twice a day, we shall be able to detect any sign of a tunnel; while it is unlikely that an effort to scale the wall will meet with any success, for the edge of the iron sheets is sharp enough to cut through his hands should he make a leap at it. I'll talk to him pretty straight and let him know what to expect if he does manage to escape, though, at the same time, it will be an anxious business for us while he's at large--if he's fool enough to try it." That evening Blight was conducted to his new quarters, duly cautioned as to his behaviour, and safely locked up; and from that day the "prison yard," as Terence termed it, was carefully examined night and morning. It was, as Mr. McKay predicted, a severe strain on their time, for to guard against a surprise it was necessary that two people, armed in case of emergency, should make a visit to the prisoner twice daily. At the first opportunity a strong set of moorings was laid down off the little stone quay, sufficiently clear of the shore to be out of the range of breaking rollers. Here the yawl was to make her future berth, the dinghy being kept on the beach well beyond the reach of the tide. It was proposed to make a trip at an early date to the Marquesas, there to hand over the criminal into the charge of the British Consular Agent. The planning of this voyage necessitated much thought, for Mr. McKay was loath to abandon the island entirely. On the one hand he did not like to let Andy and Ellerton make the voyage with the prisoner; on the other, he did not like to leave Terence and Quexo, and, perhaps, Andy, alone on the island. "I have been wondering," he remarked, "whether my brother and your five cousins would care to join us. There are boundless possibilities in the place, and I don't think they would mind a change. Once we have a few more members of the little colony, we can spare a few months to visit our respective homes. Ellerton, I know, would be pleased to see England again. And you, Terence, would you not like to return to 'Our Lady of the Snows'?" "Rather!" replied Ellerton. "I should be awfully glad to see my people again; but, I must admit, I haven't had enough of McKay's Island. I should like to spend a great deal of my life here." "And I, too," added Terence. "Gently, lads, gently!" replied Mr. McKay. "You must remember that, although the island can be made self-supporting--for there's tons of copra to be had, and I have no doubt that the bed of the lagoon is covered with pearl oysters--the idea of living here is not altogether favourable. It wouldn't be good for us to have only each other's company for long. I'll not deny that this open-air, free-and-easy life is splendid from a physical point of view, but isolation tends to destroy one's mental powers." "Then you advise me to get away from the island as soon as I can, and never return to it?" "Not at all. You misunderstood me, Ellerton. The island is as much yours as it is mine, or Terence's. What I meant to imply was that once we can open up communication with the regular ports of call, so that we can leave whenever we wish to, the better it will be for all of us. But once abandon the island it becomes the property of the next comer. To put the matter briefly, I intend to sit tight here; but should any of you go away for, say, even three or four years, you will be welcome to return and secure your part of the commonwealth--such as it is." Finally it was decided that Blight should be kept on the island for the present, and that Ellerton and Andy should attempt to navigate the yawl to the Society Islands, communicate with their friends at home, and also write to the Agent at Fiji requesting that a British gunboat be dispatched to ratify the annexation of McKay's Island. They could then return and await events. A week or more passed. Preparations for the voyage were pushed forward, and at length everything was ready for the lads' adventurous expedition. "Now, lads, turn in early, for you may not get a good night's rest for some days," observed Mr. McKay, on the evening prior to the day fixed for their departure. The advice was acted upon, but Ellerton could not sleep. The night was sultry, not a breath of wind rustled the leaves of the palm-trees. Mosquitoes buzzed in and out of the room, while without the glow of the fire-flies betokened a spell of fine weather. Uneasily the lad tossed from side to side on his bed. A stray mosquito managed to pass the meshes of the mosquito-net, and settled down to business, his object of attack being the lad's nose. Ellerton knew that rest could only be obtained by killing the insect, so sitting up he began his plan of campaign. Suddenly his ear caught the sound of the long-drawn shriek of a concertina, followed by a chorus of shouts and exclamations of surprise. In an instant he was out of bed. "Wake up! Wake up!" he shouted, shaking the heavy sleepers with unsparing hand. "The savages are upon us!" CHAPTER XVIII A SURPRISE FOR THE INVADERS Hastily throwing on portions of their clothing and seizing their rifles and revolvers, which, by a general custom, were in variably kept loaded, the four white men prepared to dash out of the house. "Don't show a light on any account," cautioned Mr. McKay. "We must let the storehouses go and hold this terrace." It was a complete surprise. The natives, who had wrested Ahii from its former owners, had followed up their success in driving off the invaders by paying a return visit to Ni Atong. The population of that island had either been killed or reserved for a more lingering death, and from one of the latter their captors learnt of the existence of McKay's Island and its wealth of metal goods so prized by the South Sea Islanders. Accordingly ten large canoes set out on an expedition to raid the white men's dwelling. Arriving within sight of the peak of the island, they kept in the offing till night, then with torches blazing aloft they found the passage into the lagoon, and, paddling rapidly, landed on the beach below the settlement. Thereupon three hundred powerful savages, armed with club, bow, spear, and knife, and bearing torches, began the ascent of the path that led to the three terraces. The lower storehouse was their first discovery. Quickly finding that no white men were within, the host of warriors resumed their advance. Some, however, tempted by the various articles stored in the building, began to help themselves. Then it was that a savage laid hold of the concertina that Ellerton had brought from the wreck and had hitherto been left neglected in the store. The native was examining his prize in the torchlight, when, happening to come into collision with another plunderer, the concertina gave out a startling screech as if to atone for its days of idleness. Dropping the musical instrument of torture like a live coal, the savage rushed from the building, his yells of terror being taken up by his companions. This diversion was the cause of alarming Ellerton, and consequently saving the inhabitants of McKay's Island from a massacre. "Aim low, lads!" shouted Mr. McKay. "Let 'em have it!" The conflict was short and sharp. Although many of the attackers got within throwing distance, not a single native succeeded in gaining the top of the steep and narrow path. They fled hurriedly to the shore, where they rallied to await the dawn. "Anyone hurt?" inquired Mr. McKay. There was a general reply in the negative, though in the heat of the firing there had been several narrow escapes, for the ground was bristling with spears and littered with stones, which, had they struck anyone, would have caused serious if not fatal wounds. In the excitement Ellerton had forgotten his crippled arm, and had used a rifle equally as well as his comrades; but the exertion had caused the blood to flow afresh. "Rotten luck, I call it," he grumbled as Andy readjusted the bandage. "You must load at least a dozen revolvers for me. Thank goodness it's my left arm." "It's a fair surprise," remarked Mr. McKay. "We've our work cut out to drive them off. Won't they play old Harry with the storehouse--and the yawl." "Oh!" exclaimed Andy in dismay, at the thought of his particular treasure being in the hands of the savages. "Whatever can be done to save it?" "Nothing, I'm afraid," replied his father. "Perhaps if the mischief is not already done and the vessel holed, we can keep them off with a long range fire, though I can hold out no strong hopes in that direction. The plain truth is, that we are in a tight corner, and we must make the best of it." For some minutes the defenders kept silence, listening to the subdued sounds of their foes. "Look here," said Mr. McKay, "it's no use sitting here and doing nothing. Terence, will you go back to the house and bring three or four spades? We'll dig a shelter trench along the edge of the cliff so as to be able to command the path without unduly exposing ourselves to the rascals. Andy, you had better go with him and bring some more rifles and some ammunition." Upon the lads' return, the little band set to work to throw up their defences, and barely had the work been completed ere the day broke. "There are not so many of them after all," remarked Andy, when the full strength of the attacking party was revealed. "We had greater odds at Ahii." "And a worse position," added his father. "We can hold out here, I fancy, but we cannot prevent the damage to our stores and gear. See, they've begun again." Numbers of the savages were engaged in looting the store, while others, to Andy's great disgust especially, had paddled off to where the yawl lay at her moorings. "Now," exclaimed Andy, setting the backsight of his rifle. "Eight hundred yards!" "That's about the range," assented his father, and four rifles opened fire upon the daring natives, Ellerton contriving to rest the barrel of his weapon upon the ridge of the earthwork, so as to avoid using his damaged arm. The bullets all fell close to the yawl, several of the natives being hit; but possibly in their hour of triumph the savages scorned the white men's weapons. Casting off the moorings, they leisurely towed the yawl out towards the reef and plundered her. Great was the defenders' rage to see the blacks hacking at the rigging, sails, and cordage, throwing the contents of the cabin-lockers into the bottom of their canoe, and wrenching the metal cleats, hinges, and shroud-plates from her hull. This done, a powerful savage stove a hole in the craft, and slowly sinking by the stern, she at length plunged to the bottom of the lagoon. "It's hard lines, Andy," exclaimed his father as he paused to recharge his magazine. "But I'm afraid we shall have to make greater sacrifices before this affair is over." "We seem to have horrible bad luck," replied Andy savagely. "First at Ahii, and now here." "Remember we were saved by the merciful intervention of One above," added Mr. McKay. "And if it please Him, we'll come out of this in safety. We've had a lot to be thankful for." "I know, but all the same it's hard lines. Take that, you brute!" Andy added, pressing the trigger. It was a splendid shot. A group of natives had begun to batter the yawl's tender to splinters. They were a good four hundred yards away, but Andy's shot struck a tall savage, clad in a gorgeous cloak of white and red feathers, fairly between the shoulder-blades. Andy had laid aside his rifle immediately after discharging it, and had snatched up a pair of field-glasses. The effect of the chief's death--for a chief he evidently was--caused the wreckers to abandon their task, and they fled to join their fellows under the shelter of the lowermost cliff. "They are preparing for another rush," observed Terence. "Yes. I wish we had a Maxim or two," replied Andy. "That would stop them." "I have an idea," exclaimed Ellerton. "I can best be spared, so I'll run over to the caves and bring back a few sticks of dynamite and some detonators." "Good! Good!" replied Mr. McKay. "You're a wonder, Hoppy. Mind how you come back, and don't stumble, or we won't be able to find even your fragments." Ellerton set off on his self-imposed mission, and presently returned with about fourteen pounds of dynamite and half a dozen time-fuses. "What do you propose to do?" asked Terence. "Make a bomb and roll it over the cliff?" "No!" replied the youth. "We can load up one of those trucks, set the time-fuse, and turn the thing adrift." "It will mean good-bye to our storehouse," observed Mr. McKay. "But that cannot be helped, so let's to work; they'll be rushing us in a few minutes." At the top of the cable-railway stood three empty trucks. In ordinary circumstances these would be filled with water, and their increased weight would cause them to descend and, at the same time, bring up the loaded trucks from the shore or the storehouse. Half-way down the line, and almost abreast of the building, were three other trucks, waiting to be loaded should occasion require. Around these trucks, which were invisible from the upper terrace, were most of the savages, who were massing for the attack at the base of the second terrace. "You are quite sure you can unshackle the thing easily?" asked Mr. McKay. "If there's a hitch we shall be the ones to be blown to smithereens." "I'll make sure of it," replied Ellerton, and securing the lowermost of the three trucks to the second one by means of a piece of rope, he unfastened the proper connecting shackles. Then placing the explosive in the truck he asked Mr. McKay to take the time. "It's set for four minutes," he announced. "Half-a-minute will be quite enough, so at three and a half minutes from the time the fuse is lit I'll cut the rope and off she'll go." "Stand back, you fellows! If it goes wrong we need not all be blown sky-high. Are you ready? Stand by!" The fuse began to hiss and splutter. Ellerton, knife in hand, kept his eyes fixed on Mr. McKay, who, standing fifty yards off, held his watch before him. "Precious long three and a half minutes," thought the lad. It was not a pleasant task standing within two yards of a highly-charged explosive. More than once he felt tempted to cut the rope and let the truck go. "Time?" he shouted huskily, for his heart seemed literally in his throat. "No, not yet," replied Mr. McKay. Realising the strain on the plucky youth, he began to walk slowly in the direction of the truck. "Stand back, sir!" Mr. McKay stopped and slowly raised his hand. "Stand by! Let go!" One swift sweep of the sharp blade and the cord was severed. Slowly the truck began to gather way, then moving with increased speed it plunged on its headlong course. Ten seconds later--before the fuse had time to complete its work--the descending truck crashed into the stationary ones. There was a deafening roar, a cloud of dust, in which was mingled a number of heavy, shapeless objects, and then an ominous silence, broken only by the crash of some fragments of wood and metal hurled high in the air by the explosive. Rushing to the edge of the cliff the four defenders gazed upon the result of their stratagem. Where the trucks had stood gaped a pit six feet in depth, for one of the peculiarities of dynamite is that it shows its power mainly where it meets resistance. Of the storehouse scarce a vestige remained, while the double line of rails had been uprooted for a distance of nearly twenty yards. The havoc wrought amongst the savages was appalling. So many were killed that had the white men so wished it they could have fallen upon the survivors and exterminated them; but such was not their intention. "We must act with prudence or we shall be left with fifty wounded savages on our hands," said Mr. McKay. "Those who are unhurt will take to their canoes, and leave the others to their fate, and that won't do!" "How can we stop them taking to their canoes?" asked Andy. "By taking advantage of their cowed condition and disarming them. Come, let's to work." Fearlessly the four defenders descended the path to the lower terrace. "We'll begin with those fellows first!" exclaimed Mr. McKay, pointing to a group of natives cowering, with their hands over their eyes, against a spur of the cliff. "Stand by with your revolvers in case they resist." There was no resistance. Passively the savages allowed Mr. McKay to remove their weapons, which had fallen from their nerveless grasp. Seizing one man firmly but gently, Mr. McKay dragged him from his companions. The native's face bore a strong resemblance to that of a sheep led to the slaughtering-block; no doubt he thought he was to be slain. Escorted by the three lads the prisoner was taken to the fringe of the cocoa-nut grove, where Mr. McKay presented him with a branch of a palm--the almost universal emblem of peace. At this the native began to see a chance of having his life spared, and Mr. McKay, pointing to the canoes and then to the wounded savages, made signs to the man that they desired their crippled enemies to be placed in the native craft. This experiment was tried upon some of the other unharmed savages, with equally good results, and quickly recovering their senses the natives set to work with a will. One powerful-looking savage, however, refused to deliver up his club, but instead made a sudden rush at Mr. McKay with the evident intention of knocking him over the head. Mr. McKay had discarded his rifle, and his revolver was in the side pocket of his pyjama coat. Coolly his hand sought his pocket, and without attempting to withdraw the weapon he discharged it at his assailant, who was barely five yards off. The heavy bullet, striking the man full in the chest, laid him dead on the ground, while the other savages, awestruck at the sight of one of their number being killed by no visible agency, were again thrown into a state of panic. At length all the wounded were distributed between five of the canoes. Then Mr. McKay made signs for the rest of the natives to embark, keeping the other five canoes on the beach, and within an hour of the explosion the sorry remnant of the invaders was paddling back towards the island of Ahii. CHAPTER XIX THE PRISONER'S ESCAPE "Do you think they will ever return?" asked Terence. "I think they have had enough," replied Mr. McKay. "They've had a lesson." "And so have we," added Ellerton, dolefully regarding the fragments of the storehouse and the shattered line of rails. "And our boat; how shall we be able to leave the island now?" asked Andy. "Perhaps the damage done to that is not so great as we imagine. With the help of these canoes we may be able to raise her. But we'll go into that question later. At present I feel as if I could enjoy a good square meal." So back to the dwelling-house they went, where Quexo, who had been quaking all the time, was reassured. "Don't you think we could rig up an electric alarm?" said Terence during the progress of the meal. "There's plenty of insulated copper wire in the small store." "It would be as well," replied Mr. McKay. "We might have a return visit; though, as I said before, I don't anticipate one." "But some natives from another island might try and surprise us," said Andy. "News travels quickly, and perhaps we might again be favoured with the unwelcome attentions of these savage gentry." "And I tell you what," continued Terence, waxing enthusiastic, for electrical engineering was his strong point, "we brought one of the _San Martin's_ searchlights ashore. I'll try and fix it up and connect it with the dynamo." "We'll see what's to be done. But now, how about Blight? It's time we paid him a visit." "I guess he's been wondering what the dust-up was about," remarked Andy, as he prepared the prisoner's daily ration. Andy and Terence were deputed to visit the prisoner, and, armed as usual and carrying a supply of food and water, they set off for the fenced-in dwelling. From the elevation of the upper terrace they could see the distant dark brown sails of the canoes, for the wind was light and their progress had been slow. "They'll have a nice yarn to pitch into their friends when they return," observed Terence. "They stood a good chance of pitching into us," replied Andy grimly. "The rascals!" For his mind was still sore on the subject of the scuttled yawl. On arriving at the fence Andy put down his load, and producing a key unlocked the door. The space without the cave was deserted. "Strange," muttered Andy. "Blight is generally anxious for his food." Carefully relocking the door, the lads made their way to the mouth of the cave. Here, too, silence reigned. "Blight! Where are you?" There was no answer. Andy repeated the call, but without result. "Is he asleep, or is he dead?" asked Terence, and gripping their pistols the two lads entered the cave. Contrasted with the brilliant sunshine without, the apartment seemed plunged into utter darkness, but by degrees the lads' eyes grew accustomed to the gloom. "Be careful," whispered Andy. "Perhaps he's up to some of his tricks." "You locked the door in the fence?" "Yes." "Then let us explore the cave thoroughly." This they did, penetrating into the cavern and examining every recess as they advanced, till the daylight which filtered in was insufficient to allow them to continue their search. "Where's his lamp? I know the pater let him have one." "I saw it on a ledge close to the entrance. Have you any matches?" Andy had; matches were becoming scarce on McKay's Island, and whenever possible a burning glass was used for obtaining fire. Being, in this case, without his magnifying glass, Andy had to use one of the precious hoard of matches that he kept in a watertight gun-metal case, and lighting the lamp the two explorers resumed their search. "He's gone right enough," exclaimed Terence, as they "drew blank." "But where? And how?" "Goodness only knows. Let's run back and tell the others." Mr. McKay was greatly upset at the news, and seizing a light rifle he strode off towards the prisoner's quarters, accompanied by the three lads. "Did you leave the door open?" he inquired, as they came in sight of the fence. "Yes," replied Andy. "I was in a hurry to tell you, and what does it matter now that the man has escaped?" "For all we know he might have been lying concealed within the fence the whole time you were looking for him, and finding the door unlocked after you left he coolly walked out. Andy, I'm surprised at such carelessness." It was seldom that Mr. McKay was annoyed with his son, but the apparent laxity was enough to justify his displeasure. With Blight roaming about the island, the existence of the others would be a continual round of anxiety. The man was no ordinary criminal. He was versed in all the wiles of the savage life, possessed of considerable strength, skill, and reliance, and was not above resorting to treachery and murder to gain his ends. A careful examination of the outside of the fence revealed no signs of a burrow under the iron sheeting, but close to the part of the wall that touched the cliff there were unmistakable signs of a man's feet. "There you are! He did not escape by the door after all, Andy," remarked his father. "See, these two footprints close together show us that he jumped, and, what is more, jumped skilfully, for there are no traces of his heels. We'll find out how he scaled the fence by examining the other side." Entering the door, the gaolers found that Blight had cut a number of niches in the rock and had thus managed to climb to the top of the fence. The cutting of these footholds must have taken a considerable time, and in spite of the daily examination of the ground for any sign of a tunnel, the niches had escaped observation. "You see how he hoodwinked us," said Mr. McKay, pointing to the little heap of dried grass and mud. "He dug out those footholds and filled them up with grass and clay, so that they presented the same appearance as the rest of the cliff. Now, lads, we must find him, and the sooner the better." Accordingly they returned to the house, where Terence was told off to remain on guard with Quexo in the event of the escaped prisoner breaking in and securing arms. The mulatto, though far from having recovered from his injuries, was strong enough to use a pistol, so the two could hold the dwelling-house against a surprise. Having supplied themselves with enough provisions for the day, the two McKays and Ellerton set out on the trail of the fugitive. Mr. McKay and his son took rifles and revolvers and also an axe to "blaze" the palm-trees, while Ellerton, by reason of his damaged arm, carried a revolver only in addition to his canvas knapsack containing his share of provisions. Tracking was a new experience to the English lad, and he could not help wondering at the keenness displayed by father and son as they followed the scantiest trail. Andy would walk with considerable speed for a hundred yards, his eyes fixed upon the ground; while Mr. McKay would follow at his heels, at the same time keeping a sharp look-out on all sides in order to guard against a sudden attack. Then the order would be reversed, Mr. McKay following the trail, and his son acting as a cover to his father. For nearly a mile the track was fairly well-defined, though Ellerton had to confess that he would have failed to notice it. The fugitive had skirted the base of the cliff, then plunging into the palm grove, he had gone by a round-about way towards the left; and was evidently heading for the thickly-wooded belt of land surrounding the base of the highest peak of the island. Then the pursuers met with an unexpected rebuff. The trail led up to a broad tract of barren country, the surface of the land consisting of rocky mounds covered with a deposit of lava--the result of volcanic action many years previously. "This kind of stuff extends right up to the base of the peak," said Andy. "We had a rough scramble when Quexo and I climbed the mountain. I know what it's like. There are hundreds of rifts where a man might hide himself." "He's covered his tracks," announced Mr. McKay. "See, he's gone in that direction, then back again and off in entirely the opposite way." "And the trail is getting very much fainter," added Andy. "It's my belief that he's lying low within a few yards of us," continued his father. "It's an admirable hiding-place, but it's certain that he must have food, so he's bound to make for the cocoanuts and bread-fruit trees sooner or later. That's why he's doubled on his tracks." "We must double on our tracks before long," replied Andy. "That is, if we don't want to spend a night in this wilderness." "That's what I intend to do," said his father in a low voice. "I want you two to go back to the house. Make plenty of noise, and grumble at having been unsuccessful. I'm going to remain here." "Alone?" queried Andy. "Hist! Don't speak so loud. Yes, alone. You don't imagine I'm afraid to tackle an unarmed man, do you? Now, listen to what I have to say. It will be dark in an hour or so, but the moon will rise at nine o'clock. Make your way here at sunrise to-morrow, and I'll warrant you'll find me safe enough--and not alone, I hope." Andy knew that it was no good arguing, and the two lads set off towards their home. The blazed track was followed without difficulty, and just as the sun set they emerged from the forest and gained the terrace on which the house stood. "Where's Mr. McKay?" asked Terence. "Left behind." "Left behind? What for? Has anything gone wrong?" "I hope not. He insisted, so there was no help for it. We've to rejoin him at sunrise to-morrow," replied Andy. All that night the lads did not attempt to sleep. Filled with anxiety, they listened intently for the sound of a rifle shot. The air was perfectly still, and though the strained nerves of the watchers caused them to hear a variety of imaginary sounds, no reassuring report of firearms broke the echoes of the palm-groves. "Look here," exclaimed Ellerton, after hours of weary vigil, "the moon's up quite enough to allow us to find our way; so let's make a start." Andy shook his head. "You ought to know the pater well enough by this time, Hoppy. It's rotten hanging about here, I admit, but it's part of the game. So let's make the best of it." CHAPTER XX THE ENEMY IS CORNERED Mr. McKay, left to himself, prepared for his all-night watch. His hiding-place consisted of a crevice which commanded a view of the route his companions had taken. Standing upright he could also see over the rock in which he was concealed, though prudence urged him not to show his head above the gaunt stone walls of his lair. He rested himself on a convenient ledge, and waited, with his rifle across his knee. Then, as the sun set and intense darkness brooded over the land, he braced himself for his task. Instinct told him that the fugitive would skulk in the rocks till the moon rose; then in all probability he would prowl for food. More than once Mr. McKay fancied he heard the crunching of a boot upon the pumice stone. Twice he grasped his rifle, as a dark shadow seemed to loom up against the darkness. "Imagination," he remarked to himself. "What is the matter with my nerves?" But a finger pressed upon his wrist showed him that his pulse was beating regularly. Then came a sound that could not possibly be mistaken--a smothered sneeze. Blight was within a few yards of Mr. McKay, but in which direction the latter was unable to decide. Then came the scuffling of feet. The fugitive was scuffling blindly across the rock. At any instant he might pitch into the crevice right into the arms of his pursuer. Nearer and nearer he came, cursing under his breath as his feet came in contact with the ruts and sharp corners of the rocks. Mr. McKay could even hear the laboured breathing of his quarry. Realising the danger of making his way over the pitfalls, Blight sat down, muttering angrily at being baulked, at the same time abusing the moon for its tardy appearance. Mr. McKay waited, rifle in hand, feeling almost pleased. He pictured the fugitive's consternation when the moonlight revealed his tracker covering him at ten paces. It was the old animal instinct, the joy of the chase, whether hunter and hunted be human beings or mere beasts of the field. Above the tops of the distant palm-trees a pale yellow light dawned in the eastern sky. Stronger and stronger it grew, till the golden disc of the queen of night appeared, the brilliant light throwing the rocks into strong relief. The escaped prisoner, now that his path seemed clear, prepared to make his journey towards the trees once more, and obviously fearing no danger, he scrambled over a flat-topped boulder. Barely had he stood erect when Mr. McKay, rifle to shoulder, shouted: "The game's up once more. Throw up your hands!" So great was Blight's surprise that he stood stock still, with mouth agape, staring at the silhouetted form of his enemy; then, recovering himself, rushed wildly towards Mr. McKay, shrieking: "You'll never take me alive, bad luck to you!" It was the act of a madman. Ere he could cover the intervening apace, Mr. McKay could have shot him dead on the spot. But the Australian was loath to be the rascal's executioner; the business seemed to him to be mere butchery. Turning down the muzzle of his rifle, the solitary tracker aimed the weapon at his enemy's feet. This action had a most restraining effect upon the rogue. He would welcome a swift and almost painless death, but to be deliberately crippled, secured at leisure, and dragged back to his prison, did not appeal to him. He turned swiftly and, dodging from side to side as he ran, he sped rapidly across the rocks. Mr. McKay fired, but the shot went wide. He could have perforated the man's body between the shoulders with the greatest ease, but a pot-shot in the moonlight at a pair of swiftly-moving legs afforded plenty of opportunities of missing. The fugitive uttered a yell of defiance, and sped onwards. Another fifty yards and he would be lost to sight in the midst of a labyrinth of fantastically-shaped rocks. Mr. McKay did not attempt to fire a second shot. The success of his long vigil depended upon keeping the chase in view. Laying his rifle on the ground and making sure that the flap of his pistol-holster was loose, he vaulted upon the rock and set off in pursuit. Although "hard as nails" and sound of wind, Mr. McKay forgot for the time being that the result of his accident on board the _San Martin_ had left him somewhat weak in his lower limbs. With elbows pressed close to his sides he ran, but ere forty yards were covered he found himself lurching dangerously. Setting his jaw firmly, he persevered, keeping his eyes fixed upon the form of the fugitive, yet he was forced to confess that he was losing ground. Blight was now within twenty yards of the sheltering rocks. Dare the pursuer use his revolver and stop this headlong flight? The odds were too great, for with the exertion of running his aim would be erratic. No, he must continue to run and trust to chance that his quarry might be cornered somewhere. Suddenly Blight stumbled, kicking up a cloud of pumice dust that looked silvery in the moonlight. Two yards he traversed ere he fell headlong in the soft lava, and before he could stagger to his feet his pursuer was almost within arm's length. "Give in, you idiot," shouted Mr. McKay, drawing his revolver. For answer Blight laughed, and, bending low as he ran, he doubled away to the right, where the ground sloped downwards towards a line of irregularly-shaped cliffs. He was crippled. He had twisted his ankle, and everything was in Mr. McKay's favour. Unwilling to close with the desperate fugitive, Mr. McKay prepared to maim him with a bullet through his leg; but even as he levelled the weapon, Blight disappeared from sight with a shriek of terror. Instinctively Mr. McKay threw himself flat on his back, digging his heels into the soft yielding dust; but surely and gradually he found himself slipping towards the mouth of a gaping abyss. The very ground on which he was sprawling was moving. He could hear the rustle of the sand and small stones as they dropped over the ledge into the apparently fathomless chasm. Desperately Mr. McKay plunged his arms into the sliding sand; but his efforts were unavailing. He was being launched towards the yawning gulf, the horrors of which seemed worse in the moonlight. Just as he was on the point of slipping over the edge--his heels were already over the abyss--his hand, buried arm's length in the pumice, came in contact with a piece of hard rock. Would it hold? he wondered. Slowly his outstretched arm began to change from a vertical to an almost horizontal position as his body still continued its downward motion. The rock afforded but a slender hold: either the fabric might become loosened, or his hand might be unable to keep up the strain, and then----? Mr. McKay ceased to struggle. He could feel the sand slipping from under him, streaming past like a solid cataract. So long as he kept quiet he was comparatively safe, but directly he commenced to find a foothold, his peril increased threefold. Yet he knew that every moment his grip upon the small pinnacle that stood between him and instant death was gradually becoming weaker. In those awful moments of peril he could hear the laboured breathing of his enemy, coming apparently from a great depth beneath his feet. Blight, then, was still alive, but his gasping breaths sounded ominous. At length, regaining his self-possession, Mr. McKay put forth a final effort in an endeavour to draw his feet clear of the awful chasm. Inch by inch he worked himself upwards, against the increasing torrent of sand, when suddenly the rocky ledge was wrenched from its base, and the next instant he was swept into the gulf. Amidst a shower of dust and stones he felt himself hurtling through the pitch dark air, then everything became a blank. * * * * * The first rays of the rising sun filtering through the narrow neck of the inverted funnel-shaped chasm strove to disperse the darkness. Stretched upon the thick carpet of powdered pumice were two motionless figures, partially covered with the flow of dust that trickled from the open air like the sand of a gigantic hour-glass. The head and shoulders of one of the victims were pillowed upon the body of the other, who lay, with arms outstretched, gazing upwards with sightless eyes at the narrow slit of sky that was visible between the lips of the abyss. Blight had gone to his last account. Slowly opening his eyes, Mr. McKay blinked stupidly at nothingness for a few seconds, then stretched out his arms. It was the action of a man awakening from slumber. He felt no pain; he had no idea of where he was, or of what had occurred. With the intention of going to sleep again he turned his head on its ghastly pillow, but on drawing up his arms to compose himself, his head came in contact with the cold face of his companion in misfortune. The touch acted like an electric shock. In an instant the details of the tragedy flashed across his mind. He stumbled to his feet, but overcome by weakness, he sank once more upon the dust-covered floor. How long had he been in this hideous deathtrap? he wondered. Was it a night, or many days and nights? Had his comrades searched in vain and had they abandoned their quest and left him to his fate? For quite half-an-hour Mr. McKay sat and thought, striving to collect his mental and physical powers. He went over the events leading up to the final tragedy--the ambush, the pursuit, Blight's disappearance, and his own terrible ordeal on the sliding sand. Then he reflected that his trail would be fairly well-defined, and that help must be forthcoming. His watch was still going, so that he knew that it was only the morning following his night's vigil. Overhead a dazzling ray of sunlight shone obliquely through the opening, illuminating the shaft-like sides of his prison, but so dead black was the colour of the rock that hardly any light was reflected to the bottom of the pit. He could, in fact, just see his own hands and the grey features of his ill-fated companion. Mr. McKay groped about the floor. At first his fingers encountered nothing but dust. He plunged his arm up to the elbow in the soft yielding deposit; but nothing solid met his touch. Fearing that he might be lying on a ledge overhanging a pit of fathomless depth, Mr. McKay extended his field of exploration, making wide sweeps with his arms. Presently his fingers encountered a metal object. It was his revolver. "At least," he thought, "I can signal for aid." But on second thoughts he hesitated. Then he remembered his box of matches. Fumbling in his pocket he found the little case, and eagerly, like a miser counting his gold, he passed the little sticks one by one through his fingers. Ten--ten priceless matches. He struck one. For the moment his eyes were dazzled by the yellow fire, but ere it burnt out he made sure of two things. He was not lying on the edge of another precipice; that was reassuring. His second discovery was disconcerting. His trusty revolver was choked with fine dust, and had he discharged it he would have assuredly been injured by the bursting of the barrel. The match flickered out, and to the imprisoned man the darkness seemed denser than ever. It pressed upon him like a real substance, till he felt tempted to shout in his distress. By degrees he grew calmer, and staggering to his feet he moved his limbs with extreme caution. To his satisfaction they were still sound, though he was beginning to feel stiff and bruised from head to foot. The light of a second match showed that Blight was indeed beyond all human aid, so, placing his handkerchief over the face of the corpse, Mr. McKay retired a few steps till a third match became necessary. He found himself within a few feet of one of the walls of his prison. The stone, divided by volcanic agency, was almost vertical at the point, though at others it receded so that the base of the abyss was several yards beyond the perpendicular height of the shaft. Close to him was a deep crack in the wall, known by mountaineers as a "chimney." It might be possible to scale the rock, he thought, but the knowledge that the edge of the shaft was "rotten" compelled Mr. McKay to abandon that attempt. He must wait; yet, unwilling to remain idle, he resolved to sacrifice four more of his precious matches in exploring the immediate vicinity of the chasm. Keeping close to the wall, Mr. McKay proceeded with the utmost caution, till he reached a yawning cavern that descended abruptly. For a moment he hesitated, fearing the presence of carbonic acid gas, but on holding the lighted match close to the ground the flame burnt clear and bright. To his surprise Mr. McKay found his hand resting on the butt of a musket. The weapon was lying on the hard, rocky floor of the cave, for here no dust had penetrated. Another match revealed the fact that the firearm was of an ancient pattern, the combined flint and matchlock being of not later date than the end of the seventeenth century. "By George! This is a find!" exclaimed Mr. McKay. For the time being he forgot his surroundings, interest being centred in this relic of bygone days. Then, unwilling to risk using his remaining stock of matches, yet mentally resolving to explore this part of the cavern at the earliest favourable opportunity, he retraced his steps to that part of the chasm that lay beneath the narrow shaft. Here he sat down and waited, hoping for the speedy arrival of Andy and Ellerton. CHAPTER XXI THE BUCCANEERS' CAVE It could not have been more than a couple of hours after Mr. McKay returned to consciousness that the two lads emerged from the forest and gazed wonderingly upon the rock-strewn plain. Not knowing the course of events, they had left Terence and Quexo to guard the dwelling-house against a possible attack. "Steady, Hoppy!" cautioned Andy, as Ellerton was about to rush towards the spot where they had left Mr. McKay on the previous evening. "I don't like the look of things. Suppose that rogue has got the upper hand? You would be potted to a cert if you rushed into the open in that reckless style. You work round to the right and I'll go by the left." Accordingly the lads, taking advantage of every bit of cover, advanced with the utmost caution towards the little rift in the dark rock where Mr. McKay had made his ambush. There was his rifle, lying on the ground, with no sign of an empty cartridge to show that the weapon had been discharged. Andy removed the magazine and found that the cartridges were still intact. "I can't understand it," he exclaimed. "The pater was evidently in a hurry, for, you see, the rifle was not placed against a rock, but was thrown down on the ground. He's too careful, in ordinary circumstances, to do a thing like that." "Well, where is he? If Blight had managed to get the better of him he would have taken away the rifle." "He may have chased him right across this island. Come on, it's no use wasting time here; let's try and pick up the trail." Andy leapt upon the flat top of the rock and assisted his chum to follow his example. Both took it for granted that there was no further need for concealment. From where they stood the ground had the appearance of a broad belt of flat rock, divided in all directions by narrow crevices, most of which could be jumped across with the greatest ease, while ahead was the first of a series of cliffs, which incircled the base of the peak of the island. "Look!" exclaimed Ellerton, pointing to a little heap of brown canvas which was lying on the rock about thirty feet away. "There's your father's haversack." The lad was right, for Mr. McKay had discarded the article as he commenced the pursuit of the fugitive. From this spot the mingled tracks of the hunter and the hunted were easily traced, by reason of the deposit of lava dust, which grew thicker as the lads advanced. Suddenly they came to an abrupt halt. Almost at their feet began the treacherous slope, ending in the horrible fissure which had been the cause of Blight's death and Mr. McKay's disaster. Although the still sliding dust and sand had almost hidden the traces of Mr. McKay's desperate struggle to save himself from the yawning pit, there remained sufficient evidences of the disappearance of the fugitive and his pursuer. The faces of both lads grew pale. Andy was about to rush towards the brink of the abyss when Ellerton's detaining hand was laid upon his shoulder. "It's nothing more or less than a trap," said he. "You'll----" The sentence remained unfinished, for from the depths of the chasm a hollow voice that the lads hardly recognised as Mr. McKay's repeated the warning: "Stand back, lads!" "Are you all right, sir?" shouted Ellerton. "Yes, but you cannot get to my aid without a rope. Hurry back to the house, and bring all hands with you. A lantern will also be useful. Be as quick as you can, for it's pretty doleful down here." "All right, sir, we'll make haste; but stand by!" And as a parting gift Ellerton dexterously threw Mr. McKay's haversack, still containing an ample supply of food, into the pit. Andy, however, hesitated. "Are you sure you are all right, dad?" "Ay, my boy. Why do you ask?" "Because your voice sounds so strange. I suppose it's the rocks that affect it. How far did you fall?" "I hardly know; about thirty feet, I expect; luckily the ground's soft." "Seen anything of Blight?" "Dead!" replied Mr. McKay. With the utmost despatch Ellerton and Andy returned to the house, where, having told the others all they knew about the accident, they collected a couple of coils of rope, some lanterns, two strong crowbars, a hammer, and, at Ellerton's suggestion, two six-inch pulleys. The four lads--for even Quexo insisted on coming, though he was still in a weak state of health--set off for the scene of the disaster, Andy and Terence carrying the bulk of the appliances, while Ellerton and the mulatto took only what they could place in their belts. Cheering up the prisoner with a lusty shout of encouragement, the rescuers proceeded to drive the crowbars into a convenient crevice in the rocks, so that one was about ten feet nearer to the chasm than the other. From the base of the outside bar to the top of the inner one, Ellerton lashed a piece of rope, then making sure that the "crows" would bear any strain that was likely to be put upon them, he attached a pulley to the base of the innermost. Through the block was rove one of the coils of rope, one end of which he tied round his waist. Then, taking the lighted lantern in his hand, he walked cautiously towards the brink of the pit, the others paying out the rope as he went. Before he had gone a distance of five yards the pumice dust began to slide away from under his feet, causing him to sit down on the slope, while the avalanche nearly blinded Mr. McKay as he was looking upwards for the expected relief. "Come back, Hoppy!" shouted Andy. "Remember your arm." "I do," replied Ellerton with a laugh. "It's giving me good cause to remember it, but I mean to make the best of it. You fellows can do more good by hauling on that rope than I can, so slack away." Terence and Andy accordingly "slacked away," and Ellerton slid another yard or so towards the brink. He was then able to lower the lantern to Mr. McKay, and at the same time he made the discovery that the shaft was too rugged to allow a man to be hauled up by a rope without serious danger of the rope being chafed through by the sharp projections. He explained the situation to Mr. McKay, who fully realised the force of his remarks. "Never mind, we'll manage it right enough," concluded Ellerton cheerily, and giving the word he was hauled back to where his companions stood. "We must have one of those trees down," he said, pointing to the distant palms. Accordingly the lads set off for the forest, where without much difficulty a stout trunk, thirty feet in length, was felled. The work of transporting it to the brink of the pit was a more tedious business, and an hour elapsed ere they succeeded in slinging the timber across the yawning gulf, where it rested with about ten feet imbedded in the soft lava on either side of the hole. "Now you can do this part of the work better than I," said Ellerton to Andy. "Lash this block to the centre of the trunk, and reeve a rope through it." This Andy managed to do. He also lashed a smaller piece of timber at a distance of about four feet below the tree-trunk, so as to form a platform to enable Mr. McKay to obtain a clear spring when hauled up as far as the pulley would permit. "All ready, pater?" asked the son. "Wait a moment, Andy. Could you manage to come down here, do you think?" "I'll try. I say, you fellows, I'm going down, so pay out the rope." Andy swung himself from the main beam upon the lower piece of timber, and, summoning up his courage, launched himself off from the swaying perch. Slowly he descended, spinning round on the straining rope like a joint on a meat-jack, while at almost every second his shoulders or hips came into contact with the jagged walls of the shaft. To avoid the dust he kept his head bent downwards, and as he did so he saw the glimmer of the lantern from beneath. "Thirty feet, do you call it?" he asked, as his feet touched the floor of the pit, and his father grasped his hand. "It's sixty at the very least." "I don't think so," was the reply. "You see, looking down from a height the distance always appears greater. Had the floor been hard rock, I should have been killed or at least seriously injured. But to change the subject, look here." Mr. McKay had, during the long interval of waiting since Ellerton had lowered the lantern, made another tour of exploration, and now he led the way towards the tunnel where he had found an old musket. He had made a strange discovery. At no very distant date a long cavern of varying height and breadth existed here. Where its entrance was Mr. McKay had not found out; but a volcanic disturbance had caused a mighty fissure to divide the original cave in two, as an examination of the strata proved conclusively. Casting off the rope from around his waist, Andy followed his father into the tunnel-like cavern, stooping as he did so, for its mouth was barely five feet in height. At ten paces from its mouth the passage turned almost at right angles to its former direction, and expanded into a broad and lofty chamber. Almost covering the width of the four sides was a range of arm-racks filled with old-time weapons. The candle-light flashed upon the bright barrels of musket and pistol, and glittered on the steel of bayonet, cutlass, sword, and pike, for so dry was the atmosphere that a couple of centuries had not left any appreciable trace on the metal. "Great Scott! How did these get here?" asked Andy, after he had recovered from his astonishment. "It's the armoury of some long-forgotten buccaneer," replied his father. "I've had plenty of time to look round since you first sent me the lantern, and none of these weapons are later than the earlier part of the eighteenth century, or the last part of the seventeenth. See, these muskets have Vauban locks, a combination of flint and matchlock. These kinds of muskets were used at the battles of Steenkirke and Landen. You can also see that all these bayonets are the plug variety, that is to say they were plugged into the barrel of the musket, thus temporarily converting it from a firearm to a pike. These are evidently the original bayonets used in the reign of James II., so that we can fix the period at which they were stored here to within a few years, since the socket type were introduced early in the reign of William III." In this strain Mr. McKay continued, forgetful of time and place, till Ellerton's voice was heard shouting to know of anything was amiss. "We had better retrace our footsteps," observed Mr. McKay, "or the others will be getting alarmed. When we've found an easier way of descending into this pit--for I do not want another fall like that, I can assure you--we'll make a thorough exploration of the place." Accordingly father and son made their way back towards the shaft, but as they turned the bend of the passage they found themselves confronted by Terence and Ellerton, each of whom carried a lantern. "Hullo! How did you descend?" asked Andy, who was very astonished at seeing his friends down there. "I lowered Terence, and then let myself down," replied Ellerton. "Then, how in the name of goodness, do you expect to get back?" demanded Andy. "Quexo cannot haul us up." "By the same means as I came down," replied the young sailor calmly. "It's easy enough with a bos'un's chair." "Then all I can say is that I hope you lashed the pulley on securely," rejoined Andy with evident concern. "If that goes wrong, we're trapped." "Don't worry," replied Ellerton, somewhat ruffled at the slur cast upon his work. "Come, come," observed Mr. McKay good-humouredly. "Don't quarrel. Now we are here we might as well continue our exploration." Once more the armoury was inspected, the lads showing the greatest interest in the weapons, snapping the flints in order to see the sparks fly from the steel. "Be careful, some of these muskets may be loaded," cautioned Mr. McKay. "Always make it a practice to point a weapon away from anybody when fooling about like that." Hardly had he spoken, when a tremendous explosion shook the cave, the noise being intensified by the confined space, and Terence sat on the floor rubbing his shoulder, while a smoking musket lay by his side. "You're a young ass," observed Andy. "Are you hurt?" "Didn't know it was loaded," replied the youth, still clapping his hand to his shoulder. "That's what they all say after an accident has occurred," said Mr. McKay. "By some means or the other the musket was stored without the charge being drawn. However, thank goodness it's no worse, though the concussion might have brought the roof down on our heads." Presently Ellerton, who had wandered behind one of the arms-racks that stood about three feet from the wall, exclaimed: "Here's another passage." "Hold on, then," cautioned Mr. McKay. "Wait till I come. There might be a pitfall." Carefully examining the floor of the tunnel, the explorers advanced about ten yards, when further progress was prevented by a door covered with flat iron bars. "H'm!" ejaculated Mr. McKay. "What have we here?" Terence was dispatched to bring a dagger and a pike from the armoury, but on further thoughts Mr. McKay forbade the lads to tamper with the door. "Then we are done for the time being," remarked Andy. "Shall we go back for our axes?" "A crowbar would be the thing," replied Ellerton. "But we want the two we brought." "Probably it's as well we haven't got them," added Mr. McKay. "To tell the truth, I have my suspicions of that door, so we'll defer the opening of it till a more convenient time." Reluctantly the lads retraced their steps to the open chasm, where Blight's body lay. "We must bury him as soon as possible," said Mr. McKay. "There's no place here, so we must haul the body to the surface, and dig a grave in the soft earth." "There's no soil nearer than the edge of the palm-forest," observed Andy. "I know, but it cannot be helped." "Isn't there a rift or a hole in the floor where we could bury him?" asked Ellerton. "After all, where does it matter, so long as he receives Christian burial?" "We may as well look," assented Mr. McKay, and taking one of the lanterns he commenced to explore that side of the chasm which lay opposite to the tunnel leading to the buccaneers' armoury. The first ten or twelve paces were knee deep in the pumice dust, but on approaching the wall of the abyss the floor was fairly hard, being protected from falling dirt and sand by the overhang of the shaft. On reaching the stone face of the rift the explorers followed its general direction without discovering any crack or crevice likely to suit their purpose, till they stumbled upon another tunnel-like shaft, similar and almost opposite to the one they had already traversed. This tunnel was about six feet in height and four in width, and ran in a slightly upward direction. Evidently it was at one time a continuation of the other passage. "Let's see where this leads to," exclaimed Ellerton, full of curiosity and enthusiasm. "I believe it leads to the open air." "I think not," replied Mr. McKay, pointing to the smooth, even steps in the floor of the tunnel. "See, the floor is as dry as a bone, and covered with a thick deposit of dust. If this tunnel is open, the tropical rains would have washed the dust away." "Then where does it lead to?" continued Ellerton. "Those arms must have been brought in by some means." "We'll carry on and see who's right." It was a long walk. Up and up ran the tunnel, turning slightly to the right, yet maintaining a uniform height and breadth throughout its entire length. "This passage has been hewn out," announced Mr. McKay. "Hasn't the other?" asked Andy. "Only in parts. The armoury is a natural cave. Perhaps there was a smaller tunnel here before, and the people who discovered it enlarged it. It's about time we came to the end." "Now who's right, sir?" exclaimed Ellerton triumphantly, as the pale gleam of daylight was visible from a curve of the tunnel. "Not this child," replied Mr. McKay, without the faintest trace of chagrin. In fact, he was glad to know he was in the wrong, for he did not relish the task of tackling the shaft and the treacherous, dust-covered slope at its edge. A few sparse bushes masked the mouth of the tunnel, and upon these being thrust aside, the adventurers found themselves at the foot of the lowermost range of cliffs and within a hundred yards of the abyss which had been the cause of their presence in the tunnel. Standing close to where the crowbars were driven into the rock was Quexo, looking the picture of misery, for he was perfectly convinced in his own mind that all his companions had met with disaster. "Quexo!" shouted Andy. "Quexo! Here we are!" The mulatto's joy was curious to behold. He danced, swung his sound arm over his head, and cut fantastic capers, the tears running down his cheeks the while as he blurted out unintelligible sentences in mingled English and Spanish. "Well, we're safe once more, thanks to Providence," exclaimed Mr. McKay. All the explorers looked rather disreputable, but Mr. McKay in particular was little better than a walking scarecrow. His clothes were in rags, his face clotted with dried blood and dust, while, now the excitement was over, he once more began to feel stiff and bruised from head to foot. "By Jove, we've forgotten what we went to look for!" exclaimed Andy. "Yes," replied Mr. McKay. "We must bring the poor fellow's body up after all." "By the tunnel?" "No, by the shaft." "Then here goes," said Ellerton quietly, and drawing up one of the ropes he fastened it round his waist. Lantern in hand he slid down the sand, and getting astride the tree-trunk, edged his way along till he reached the swaying piece of timber. The next minute he was lowering himself into the abyss. "He's a plucky chap," commented Mr. McKay as they awaited Ellerton's signal. "And with an arm like that," added Terence admiringly. "He really seems to make light of it." The watchers had not long to wait. "Haul away!" shouted Ellerton, and heaving slowly on the rope they brought the body of the unfortunate Blight to the surface, where the young seaman soon rejoined the others. Between them they bore the corpse across the rocky plain to the edge of the palm-forest, where they dug a shallow grave with their axes. Here the body of the ex-pearler was laid to rest, Mr. McKay recited a few prayers, and the earth was heaped over the corpse, a pile of heavy stones being placed over the grave to mark the spot. This depressing task completed, they hastened homewards to enjoy a welcome meal and a still more desired rest. For the next two or three weeks all hands were too busy to think of making a further exploration of the buccaneers' cave. The damage wrought by the savages required a considerable amount of patience and hard work to set to rights. A new storehouse had to be constructed, and the various stores that had not been totally destroyed were collected and placed once more under cover. Terence had, with considerable ingenuity, contrived to erect an electric alarm, so that the moment a foot was placed upon the lowermost path leading up to the house, a bell would ring in the sleeping quarters. He also succeeded in rigging up the searchlight salved from the wreck, and after many failures the apparatus worked to perfection. Thereafter every night its great beam was directed skywards, the International Signal, "N.G." (want immediate assistance), being flashed in the hope of attracting the attention of any vessel within seventy miles of the island. The little party was now completely isolated from the rest of the world. Before the destruction of the yawl they had the means of making even a fairly long passage, but now this was denied them, for it would be utter madness to attempt to go to sea in one of the captured canoes. So, realising that the sooner they were in possession of a seaworthy craft the better it would be for them, the inhabitants of McKay's Island debated whether it would be advisable to construct a new decked craft, convert one of the canoes into a cabin boat, or to salvage the wreck of the yawl and patch her up sufficiently to enable them to reach Tahiti. Even with the appliances at their command, Mr. McKay reckoned that it would take a twelvemonth to make a boat large enough for their requirements. As regards reconstructing one of the canoes, he came to the conclusion that the work might be done, but the canoe being without a keel would be a bad craft in a sea-way; while her light construction would not allow a keel to be fixed without a grave risk of straining the vessel in the first breeze she encountered. Finally, it was decided that the captured canoes should be utilised to attempt the salvage of the yawl, and on the first fine day the actual work was put in hand. By means of rollers and a powerful jack, three of the canoes were launched and taken to the scene of the savages' wanton act. The wrecked boat could be clearly discerned lying on the sandy bed of the lagoon in six fathoms of water, with a slight list to starboard. Anchoring two of the native craft close to the sunken yawl, Ellerton and Andy contrived to pass the bight of a chain under her bows, the ends of the chain being made fast to two stout cables. A similar device was employed to engage the stern of the wreck, although the fact that her keel was imbedded in the sand added to the difficulty of the task. Two massive trunks of palm-trees were then placed across the gunwales of both canoes, converting them into a kind of pontoon. These preparations being completed, all that was at present necessary was to wait till dead low water. All hands knew that it would be a tedious job, for the rise of the tide was but five feet at springs and only two feet at neaps, so what work had to be done must be performed during the spring tides. At dead low water all the slack of the four hawsers was taken in, and once more came a tedious wait for the rising tide. Gradually the strain on the ropes increased, till the timbers groaned under the weight of the sunken boat and the canoes sank lower in the water. "Hurrah! She's lifting!" shouted Ellerton, and allowing sufficient time for the yawl to be lifted clear of the bottom, Mr. McKay and his assistants began to haul on an anchor cable which had been previously laid towards the shore. Slowly the ungainly pontoon with its heavy burden began to move shorewards, when suddenly the bows of the canoes rose high in the air, throwing their occupants on their backs. One of the hawsers had slipped, and the work of six long hours was wasted. "Hard lines!" exclaimed Terence dolefully. "It is, I admit," replied Ellerton cheerfully. "Still, we must not expect to have everything our own way. Try, try, try again, as the old saw says." "We can do no more to-day," said Mr. McKay. "We'll leave the canoes moored to the yawl, however. That will save time to-morrow." "I think, if you don't mind, sir, we'll try and slip the sling under her again," said Ellerton. "You see, if we do that there won't be so much chance of the canoes drifting and consequently slipping the other sling." "Quite so," replied Mr. McKay. "It may save us some hours of hard work." So directly the water cleared, for the settling of the wrecked boat had churned up the sand till she was practically invisible, the chain sling was again placed in position. This time this part of the business was done more satisfactorily, as the yawl was resting on a hummock of shell and sand amidships, so that above five feet of the after part of her keel was clear of the bed of the lagoon. "I hope it doesn't come on to blow to-night," remarked Ellerton, as the party rowed ashore. "If it does, then good-bye to the yawl." "The glass is steady," replied Mr. McKay. "If it should pipe up, we must slip the slings and let the canoes take their chance." That afternoon Ellerton and Andy were busy preparing additional slings, for the former was resolved not to have a repetition of the morning's failure if it could be avoided. Just before low water on the following morning, the salvage party set out for the wreck. As Mr. McKay had predicted, the weather was fine, there being no swell to speak of within the lagoon, though as usual the breakers were lashing themselves into milk-white foam upon the outer fringe of the reef. Once more the slings were hove tight, and as the tide rose, the wrecked craft was again lifted from her ocean bed. Directly the yawl was "lively," as Ellerton expressed it, two more slings were passed underneath her keel so as to make doubly sure of her being swung properly. CHAPTER XXII THE TREASURE CHAMBER At high water the wrecked craft was moved for a distance of nearly a hundred yards towards the shore ere she grounded. This completed the day's work, and on the following morning at low tide the "slack" was again taken in so as to enable the rising tide again to lift the yawl clear of the bottom. This time, owing to the bed of the lagoon shoaling more rapidly, only twenty yards were gained. "It will be a tiring and tedious job, I can see," said Terence. "How are we to manage when the hull is brought close in shore?" "We'll have to be content to move her a few feet at a time," replied Ellerton. "It's slow work, I admit, but we are making very satisfactory progress." With the arrival of the neap tides, the work came to a standstill, the rise of water being insufficient to justify the time and labour spent on it; so the slings were cast off and buoyed, and the canoes brought into the little natural harbour, where they would be safe from all but an exceptional on-shore gale. During the interval, the lads utilised several spare lengths of rails, and spiking them into rough sleepers, formed a temporary hauling-up slip. Two of the wagons were dismantled, and the axles and wheels attached to a cradle, while a winch was firmly bolted to a secure foundation on the shore at twenty yards above high-water mark. The rails were to be laid down at low water as far seaward as possible, and the sleepers sunk by means of heavy stones. Andy hoped to avail himself of a high spring tide to float the yawl right over the cradle, then, casting off the lashings that supported her, they could haul the wreck up by means of the winch and effect the repairs at their leisure. Unfortunately, with the return of the spring tides a strong on-shore breeze sprang up and continued with unremitting freshness for over a week, so that the members of the salvage party were compelled temporarily to abandon their enterprise. "Never say die," exclaimed Mr. McKay encouragingly. "Another fortnight and I hope we shall be able to resume the work. In the meantime, lads, what do you say to a kind of picnic?" "A picnic?" asked Ellerton. "Where to?" "I am thinking of paying another visit to the buccaneers' cave. I'm very curious to know what is on the other side of that iron-bound door, and I've no doubt you are equally so." "Hurrah!" shouted the lads in chorus. "When shall we start?" "In an hour," replied Mr. McKay promptly. "Bursting open the door will be a tough job," remarked Andy. "How do you propose to do it?" "I hope to manage it by means of an explosive," replied his father. "Dynamite?" "No, there's too much risk in carting a few sticks of that stuff through a tunnel a hundred yards in length or more. One slip and it would mean sudden death to the lot of us. I want a couple of fuses, however, so while we are getting ready you can run up to the magazine and obtain them." While Andy was away on his errand, Mr. McKay opened a few cartridges and extracted the cordite. "This stuff is safe enough with reasonable precautions," he remarked to Ellerton, who was watching Mr. McKay with no little fear. "So long as it is not under compression cordite can be lit without the faintest danger. In the open air it merely fizzles like a damp squib." "Couldn't we smash the door with an axe?" asked Ellerton. "We could, but I prefer not to. In the first place there's not much room to wield an axe; in the second, as I mentioned before, I have my suspicions regarding that door." "What suspicions, sir?" "Wait and see!" replied Mr. McKay with a laugh. On the arrival of Andy with the fuses, the little party set out for the cave, each member carrying part of the equipment. On gaining the summit of the hill overlooking the house, Mr. McKay scanned the horizon with his glasses to satisfy himself that no canoes were approaching the island, then, having reassured himself on that point, he gave the word to step out briskly. "I don't want to spend a night away from the house in case anything happens," he explained. "But do you expect another crowd of savages?" "I didn't expect the last lot," he replied grimly, "but they came all the same." The journey through the forest and across the rock-strewn plain was performed without incident, and within a couple of hours after leaving the house the party drew up at the mouth of the tunnel. Here each member lit a lantern, and in a comparatively bright light the passage of the tunnel commenced. Quexo, however, remained in the open air. Nothing could prevail upon him to descend into the bowels of the earth. Once or twice someone stumbled, Terence falling heavily and barking his shins, while Mr. McKay's head came in contact with the roof much too often for his liking; but in high spirits the explorers crossed the floor of the abyss, traversed the second tunnel, and gained the armoury. Here they rested ere commencing the final stage of their journey underground. At length the explorers came face to face with the mysterious iron-bound door. In spite of themselves they felt a strange sensation as they gazed upon the relic of bygone days. What lay behind it? What secret did it guard so well? "Stand back a bit, lads, and hand me another lantern," said Mr. McKay. Dropping on his knees, he carefully examined the floor and the iron-shod threshold of the door, probing the narrow slit with his knife. This done, he turned his attention to the walk and the crown of the arch next to the woodwork, tapping the stone with the blade of his knife with the greatest caution. The others looked on with interest not unmingled with curiosity and awe. At length, apparently satisfied with the examination, Mr. McKay rose. "I want you to bore a hole here," said he to Andy, pointing out a place in the door barely two inches from the floor. Andy, armed with a ratchet-brace, began his task, and the subdued silence of the underground passage was broken only by the rattle of the pawl and the sharp burr of the bit as it wormed its way steadily through the stout oaken plank. "It's hot work," exclaimed Andy, who in order to use the brace in that most inconvenient place was obliged to lie full length on the floor. "I know, but keep it up," replied Mr. McKay, who, grasping a crowbar, was standing astride his son's feet. "Stand a bit farther back," he continued, addressing Ellerton and Terence. The two lads instantly obeyed, though they wondered at Mr. McKay's alert and expectant attitude. Suddenly, like the tongue of an enormous serpent, a double-pronged barb of steel flashed dully in the candle-light, passing completely across the passage and about three feet above and over Andy's prostrate body. In an instant Mr. McKay's powerful arm brought the crowbar upward in a resistless sweep, and with one blow severed the dreadful device of death. The lads, pale with the excitement and horror of the incident, could only utter an exclamation of astonishment while Andy hurriedly backed away from the well-guarded door. "Pleasant, isn't it?" remarked Mr. McKay in a cool matter-of-fact tone, as if such incidents were of an everyday occurrence. "I had my suspicions, as I said more than once before. That device was cunningly contrived to salute marauders in a very forcible manner. Had either of us been standing in front of the door we should have been transfixed in a jiffy. Now, carry on, Andy. I don't think there's anything more to be feared on this side of the door, at any rate." But Andy was not equal to the task. The risky experience had, to use his own words, completely knocked the stuffing out of him. "Let's quit; the game's not worth the candle," said Terence. "Rather not!" replied Mr. McKay, resolutely. "There's something worth securing behind that door, or the former owners would not have taken such elaborate and crafty steps to guard it. Here, Ellerton, stand by with the crowbar in case of accidents, and I'll finish boring the hole." So saying, Mr. McKay took up a position similar to that formerly occupied by his son and plied the brace vigorously. Ere the bit had sunk another quarter of an inch there came a dull metallic sound from the remote side of the door. "What's that?" gasped Andy breathlessly. "Another surprise for trespassers," replied his father without ceasing in his work. "I've released another secret spring, I suppose. However, we are on the right side of the door this time." Having bored the hole sufficiently deep for his purpose Mr. McKay proceeded to insert the cordite, ramming it tightly home with the end of the crowbar. The rest of the explosive he laid close to the base of the door, covering it with stones and pieces of rock brought from the floor of the chasm. "Now let's go back to the other tunnel," he continued, after the detonator and the fuse had been inserted and the latter fired. "There's no hurry; the explosion will not take place for five minutes." As the moments sped, the lads awaited in breathless silence the sound of the detonation. Presently a dull rumble echoed through the rocky passage, followed by a blast of air mingled with the acrid fumes of the cordite. "Not so fast! Not so fast!" cautioned Mr. McKay, as the lads began to run towards the hitherto baffling barrier. "Some of the rock may be dislodged." As it was, they were obliged to wait some considerable time, as the atmosphere in the tunnel was so vile that it was impossible to breathe with comfort. Then as the mist gradually cleared, the dull yellow glare of the lanterns revealed a mass of shattered woodwork where the door had stood; while a foot beyond was a barrier of steel rods, which, serving the purpose of a portcullis, had fallen from above. "That's what we heard fall," observed Mr. McKay. "The idea was, I suppose, that any unauthorised person who escaped the lance-thrust on this side of the door would, on opening it, be impaled by the weapons concealed in the roof. Now to settle with this obstruction." A few powerful strokes with an axe shattered enough bars to enable Mr. McKay to squeeze through, and, followed by his eager companions, he entered the mysterious cavern. At first there was little to attract the attention of the explorers. The cave was of irregular form, being about fifty feet in length, thirty in breadth, and varying in height from twenty-five to six feet. On the floor were six wooden chests, ordinary in appearance and apparently of simple construction; they would have easily been mistaken for seamen's chests placed in a lumber-room. Striding up to the nearest one, Mr. McKay raised the lid. There was no creaking of rusty hinges, no glitter of gold and jewels to dazzle the eyes. The chest was empty! "Well, this is a sorry trick to have played on one another after so much trouble," commented he with a forced laugh. He was visibly disappointed, and his discouragement was shared by his companions. "No doubt this has been the hiding-place of some great hoard," he continued. "But the buccaneering rascals have evidently removed their booty. I've drawn a blank, so you, Ellerton, try your hand." The second chest was opened with equal ease, but to the unbounded delight of the whole party the coffer was two-thirds filled with yellow metal ingots, which flashed dully in the light of the lanterns. "Gold!" was the chorus of exclamation. "Gold it is," added Mr. McKay. "But a deal of good it will do us in our present state! However, let's continue the examination." The remaining four coffers gave more trouble, the lids being secured by stout iron screws. Two were filled with gold and silver ornaments, cups, vases, and plates--the plunder, doubtless, of many a rich city of Spain's colonies on the shores of the Pacific. The remaining two were laden with virgin gold. "Well, lads," exclaimed Mr. McKay, when the last coffer had been forced to disclose its contents, "once we get this stuff safely to a civilised country we shall be rich beyond our wildest imagination. We'll share and share alike, of course." "What is the value of the treasure?" asked Ellerton in an awestruck voice, for the sudden avalanche of untold wealth had wellnigh upset him. "Goodness only knows! There's enough to enable you to go through life without doing another stroke of work. That is, of course, when you are home in England once more. But, my lad, don't look upon it in that light. Take my word for it that idleness is a curse, and the wealth, if used solely to promote idleness, would serve a better purpose if it lay a thousand fathoms deep on the bed of the ocean." "If ever I take my share back to my home, I trust I'll use it to a good purpose," said Ellerton. "I trust so, too," added Mr. McKay. "Now, let us see if there's anything else of interest here. I am anxious to examine these murderous devices. Ah!" Mr. McKay pointed in the direction of the shattered door. On either side, but separated from the entrance tunnel by a massive wall composed of the solid rock, was a narrow and lofty passage, both running parallel with the tunnel. Lantern in hand, Mr. McKay stooped down and entered the right-hand recess, and to his surprise he found no fewer than six steel lances, each accompanied by a tightly coiled spring, while a seventh had uncoiled itself, the spiral spring stretching from wall to wall. "Great heavens!" he exclaimed with thankfulness. "We've had a fortunate escape. Each of these fiendish contrivances is set to launch itself into the tunnel on the outside of the door. The one we released is the nearest." "Then we must have passed them?" asked Andy. "Yes, and by the intervention of Providence they failed to act. Watch!" And touching a slender steel rod that passed from the front of one of the springs to the floor, Mr. McKay gave it a sharp upward jerk. Instantly the hidden coil released itself, and the dread weapon disappeared through the rock which separated the cave-like recess from the tunnel. "The whole contrivance, though deadly, is comparatively simple," explained Mr. McKay. "Underneath the floors of both chambers are a number of levers. The weight of a person treading in the tunnel would cause the lever to move a rod, which in turn releases a finely set trigger which controls the springs. Owing to years of idleness the levers failed to act, and only Andy's continuous exertions as he lay on the ground in front of the door caused one of the springs to be released. I bargained for one, but not a dozen or more, by Jove!" "A dozen?" echoed Terence. "Aye, a dozen at least. We'll find six or seven more on the other side of the tunnel." One by one the remaining springs were released, and on entering the left-hand cavity a similar state of things was revealed. "I don't think we need fear these any longer," continued Mr. McKay, as the sound of the releasing of the last spring vibrated in the confined space. "Now the question is, what is to be done with the stuff?" and he indicated the coffers with a wave of his hand. "Leave it here," suggested Andy. "I would but for one reason. If we are taken off the island by a passing ship, the captain would not feel inclined to waste time while we were bringing these chests from here to the shore, for, of course, we could not reveal the nature of their contents. No; I propose to cart the whole of the treasure back to the house, stow it away in small boxes that are convenient to handle, and bury the boxes a few feet under the floor." Each member of the party thereupon filled his haversack with as much gold as it would hold, until the stout canvas straps cut into the shoulders of the wearers; and thus laden they retraced their steps, arriving on the surface in a breathless and exhausted condition. Here the loads were redistributed, and making better progress, the wearied adventurers arrived at their dwelling just as the sun dipped beyond the lofty peak of the island. CHAPTER XXIII "A SAIL! A SAIL!" Twice daily on each of the succeeding days Mr. McKay and his companions paid a hurried visit to the treasure-cave, and at the end of that time the bulk of the buccaneers' spoil was safely hidden in the spot chosen for its reception. Then, with the return of the spring tides, the work of salving the yawl was resumed. Slowly, yet without a hitch, the sunken craft was moved towards the cradle which awaited its burden, till the falling off of the tides found the yawl within ten yards of low-water mark. "I have been thinking, pater," observed Andy one day, as they were preparing to revisit the cave. "Thinking what, my boy?" "Why, every journey we make to the cavern we perform practically empty-handed. Would it not be well to carry a supply of provisions with us and store them in the cave? You see, if those savages should return we might be glad of a retreat." "Quite true, though I sincerely hope we shall not be put to such straits. However, we'll take a few barrels of provisions and some rifles and ammunition as well." "And water?" "Ay, but that's the rub. Water is heavy to carry about, and as far as I can see there's no spring or brook within a mile of the entrance to the cave." "I wonder if there's water to be found above the cliffs in which lies the mouth of the tunnel. I noticed several small streams when I climbed the mountain, though, of course, I didn't ascend on that side. I think I'll explore that slope as soon as possible." "Why not to-day? Ellerton and you can do so while we are making our midday trip back to the house." Accordingly, instead of ascending the tunnel with Mr. McKay and Terence, the two chums clambered up the face of the cliff. At the top they found that the land sloped steeply towards the peak, the ground being thickly covered with stunted bushes and occasional clumps of palms. "Look here, Hoppy," remarked Andy, as they sat down to recover their breadth after their fatiguing climb. "It's all very well living on an island when everything goes well, but we can't say that it is now. Perhaps it's a useless fear, but I fear that there's always the possibility of those savage brutes coming back here in overwhelming numbers and wiping us out. That does not tend to make things comfortable, although it may tend to liven things up." "But they had such a terrible smashing last time," replied Ellerton. "True! But didn't we give them a good licking when they pursued us in their canoes? That didn't prevent them repeating their unwelcome attentions." "I hope you don't mean to show the white feather, Andy?" "Not I. If there's a dust-up, I'll do my best; but, at the same time, I shan't be sorry to get the yawl repaired and say good-bye to the island. The treasure can wait till we charter a steamer to fetch it." "Well, the savages haven't returned, so we can still make the best of things," replied Ellerton cheerfully. "But we must be moving or we'll find no water." The two lads had not gone fifty yards ere they came across a small stream. Andy bent down, and raising some of the water in the palm of his hand applied it to his lips. "Fresh as one could wish," he pronounced. "Good! Now we'll follow its course and see if it approaches the mouth of the cave." The rivulet, for it was nothing more, wended its way in an almost semicircular direction, till, at about two hundred yards from where the lads had struck it, it emptied itself into a rift in the rocks, the splash of its fall echoing dimly from apparently unfathomable depths. "Look! We are not very far from that part of the cliff that overhangs the mouth of the cave," exclaimed Ellerton. "What is to prevent us from digging a shallow trench and conducting the water right to the entrance to the tunnel?" "It's fairly hard rock," objected Andy, "It will be no end of a task cutting a new watercourse." "Then we can use some of the cast-iron pipes we brought ashore," continued the young seaman, determined not to be overcome by early difficulties. "There are more than enough to cover this distance, and by damming the stream we can----" "Yes, that's all very well, but if we are compelled to beat a retreat to the cave the savages will find the pipes and so discover our hiding-place." "I'm afraid that will make but little difference. The trail from the house up the mouth of the tunnel is so well defined that a blind man might follow it. Why, whatever is the matter with you, Andy? You seem to throw cold water on every suggestion that is made. You are not always like that. Are you ill?" "I believe I am," replied Andy. "At least, I do not feel quite up to the mark." "Then let's get back," said Ellerton, and assisting his chum over the rough ground the pair returned to the mouth of the tunnel just as the others were emerging. "Any luck?" asked Mr. McKay cheerfully; then realising that his son looked ill, he exclaimed: "What have you been doing, Andy?" "I don't know, father. I feel absolutely rotten." They managed to get him back to the house, his teeth chattering with the cold; but before night he was in a high fever. His father administered liberal doses of quinine, of which there was a plentiful supply; but, in spite of this remedy, the lad's illness increased, and before morning he was in a delirium, raving about the sunken yawl and the savages. More than once he attempted to leave his bed and seize a rifle, and it required the united efforts of Mr. McKay, Ellerton, and Terence to hold him down. It was an anxious time. Mr. McKay had had experience of this kind of malady, and knew that should the patient leave his bed and take cold, he must die. For forty-eight hours Mr. McKay, the two lads, and Quexo kept ceaseless watch, the mulatto being particularly attentive in his duties; but at length the feverish state was succeeded by a profuse sweat, and Mr. McKay knew that for the present the dreaded disaster was averted. During the lengthy period of convalescence, someone had to be within call of the patient, but the others resumed their outdoor occupation. Most of the traces of the last visit of the savages had been removed; the cliff-path leading up from the shore had been fortified by the erection of a loop-holed palisade, so as to command the approach by rifle-fire; while the remainder of the treasure had been brought from the cave to the house, and the former was well provisioned in case of emergency. Ellerton also found time to carry out his project of conducting fresh water into the cave. By the aid of Terence and Quexo he contrived to lay a line of pipes from the stream down the slope to the edge of the cliff overhanging the entrance, whence a tiny cascade fell over the rocks within a few feet of the tunnel. Later on, at Mr. McKay's suggestion, the line of iron pipes was continued down the face of the cliff, though concealed by the bushes, and carried a few yards into the tunnel. For most of that distance the pipes were covered by the thick dust, till sufficiently far from the entrance to enable the occupants to defend the end of the aqueduct if necessary. The water, on escaping, ran down the incline, till absorbed by the pumice dust, although by degrees it cut for itself a channel close to the sides of the tunnel. Thus a plentiful supply of the precious liquid was assured, and at the same time no inconvenience was caused by the waste turning the floor of the passage into a swamp. The rainy season was shortly due, and unable, on account of Andy's weakness, to complete the salvage of the yawl, since every available hand was necessary, the wrecked boat was again rafted farther out into the lagoon and allowed to sink to the bottom, so as to lie in safety during the on-shore gales. One morning Ellerton set out as usual to attend to the sheep, which were in a thriving state, having so increased in numbers that new pasture grounds had to be provided for them. It was then blowing strongly from the north-east and almost dead on shore. Happening to glance seaward, he was surprised to see a topsail schooner, under close-reefed canvas, running past the island. For a moment or so he remained gazing with astonishment at the unwonted sight: then, recovering himself, he ran as hard as he could to the house. "A sail! A sail!" he exclaimed breathlessly. [Illustration: "A SAIL! A SAIL!" HE EXCLAIMED BREATHLESSLY] Everyone, including Andy, ran out of the house, and, as Ellerton had announced, there was the schooner now abreast of the entrance of the lagoon, but still keeping on her course to the south-west. "Bring out the signal-book and the flags," ordered Mr. McKay. "And you, Quexo, make a fire." Ellerton soon returned with the bunting, and the Union Jack was hoisted to the masthead. The mulatto procured some dry wood from the store, and set it in a blaze. When well alight, he piled a quantity of damp leaves upon the fire, causing a thick smoke. Unfortunately the strong wind prevented the vapour from rising, the smoke drifting over the ground in thick, suffocating columns, but to the castaways' great joy the vessel hoisted her ensign. It was the French tricolour. "Hurrah!" shouted Mr. McKay. "Now lads, hand me N and C." The next instant the N and C flags, signifying in the International code, "_Want assistance_" were fluttering from the mast. Through the telescope the inhabitants of McKay's Island could see the oilskin-clad figure of the French skipper, his neatly-trimmed moustache and imperial as correct as if he were on the boulevards of Paris, rushing hither and thither, and giving his orders with much waving of his arms. Then, as a string of flags ran up to her main truck, the schooner was hove-to. "_D.C.--Are coming to your assistance_," read Mr. McKay, referring to his signal-book. "By Jove! that won't do, the boat will be swamped," for already some of the crew were manning the falls. "Sharp there," he continued, "'_E.Y.--Do not attempt to land in your boat_.' That will stop them; but there's no denying that they are plucky fellows." In obedience to the signal, the crew of the French schooner gave up their attempt, and a lengthy interchange of signals was kept up, the Frenchman promising to report the presence of the castaways at the first port she touched; then, with a farewell dip of her ensign, she flung about, and half an hour later she was lost in the haze. "That's a load off our minds," remarked Mr. McKay. "We can reasonably expect help in a month at the very outside." "Unless she is blown out of her course, for a gale is freshening," replied Ellerton. "Nevertheless, the chances are greatly in our favour, though at the same time we must not cease our efforts to work out our salvation. This gale will doubtless mark the end of the rainy season, so we can hope to renew our efforts to salve the yawl within the next few days." But, contrary to Mr. McKay's expectations, the weather continued bad for nearly a month and, although a sharp look-out was kept by day and the searchlights flashed nightly, no vessel appeared in sight. Alternate hopes and fears did not tend to improve the spirits of the castaways, and ere the fine weather set in their condition was bordering on acute depression, in spite of their individual efforts to the contrary. At length, after a long spell of rainy weather, the sun burst forth in all its splendour, the wind went away, and the island appeared under a totally different aspect from that which it had shown during the last six months. With the return of the dry season, the spirits of the castaways likewise rose, and energetically they resumed their outdoor labours. The submerged yawl was, so far as they could see, little the worse for its prolonged rest on the bed of the lagoon, and by dint of hard and painstaking work she was moved nearer to the shore than she had been since the disastrous day when she had been scuttled by the natives. "It will be new moon to-morrow at about ten o'clock," announced Mr. McKay. "Consequently there will be a fairly high tide at noon, so we can reasonably hope for sufficient water to float the yawl to the cradle. Everything is ready, I suppose?" "Yes, sir," replied Ellerton. "I finished rigging the tackle this morning, and the cradle is properly ballasted." "Good! Then we'll make the attempt to-morrow." CHAPTER XXIV A FALSE AND A REAL ALARM Before daybreak everyone was up and eager for the fray, and directly breakfast was over they sallied down to the shore. It was still pitch dark, but the time of dead low water made it absolutely necessary that operations should commence ere the sun rose. By the light of several lanterns the slack of the hawsers was taken in and the two canoes pinned down so far as the united efforts of all hands would permit. Nothing more could be done till the rising of the tide. The cradle, its ends marked by long poles to indicate its position at high water, was already run out so far as the lines of the slipway extended, a rope being fastened to it from the windlass ashore. Anxiously the little group of workers watched the tide rise slowly, inch by inch, up the temporary tide gauge. Sometimes it paused as a "false ebb" in the offing stayed its progress, till at length it crept within a few inches of its predicted height. "There's enough water now, I fancy," announced Ellerton, "so heave away. Gently does it!" It was an anxious time. Slowly the two canoes were warped shore wards, guided by a pair of ropes abeam so as to insure the wrecked boat being deposited evenly on the cradle. Already the two outer poles of the cradle were passed, when a slight shock told the salvors that the yawl's forefoot had touched the cradle. "Avast there!" shouted Ellerton to Terence and Quexo, who were hauling on the shore. "There's not enough water," exclaimed Andy, with dismay written on his face. "Ten minutes yet before high water," announced Mr. McKay. "Will she do it, I wonder?" For answer Ellerton slipped off his clothes and plunged over the side of the canoe. Mr. McKay and Andy could follow his movements as he descended with slow yet powerful strokes, till he disappeared from view beneath the submerged craft. Half a minute later he reappeared, and swam alongside the canoe, into which he was assisted by the eager spectators. "She'll do it," he announced, when he had recovered his breath. "We are a bit out in our reckoning; her keel is touching the side of the cradle." Five minutes later the yawl was lying immediately over the slipway, the slings were cast off, and slowly she settled upon the carriage prepared for her reception. The canoes were warped clear, and all that remained to be done was to man the winch and heave the cradle above high-water mark. In spite of the broiling sun, the work of winding the winch was begun, for the delighted lads would not be persuaded to delay the operation till the cool of the day. Foot by foot the cradle came home, till the huge barnacle-covered hull began to appear above the water. "What a state she's in," exclaimed Andy, as the lads rested from their labours, for they were thoroughly played out. "There's a week's scraping in front of us before we can do anything else." "Hadn't we better see about baling her out?" asked Terence. "Directly she ceases to be water-borne the pressure of the water will burst her seams." "No fear of that," replied Mr. McKay. "The water will find its way out of the hole that the natives made in her." "I guess the motor is pretty rusty," continued Terence. "It may not be," Andy replied. "You see, I kept it smothered in grease, and unless those brutes smashed it, it ought to be capable of being repaired. But I am awfully anxious to see, so what do you say to another turn at the winch?" Once more the lads resumed their work of hauling up the cradle, till nearly the whole of the streaming, weed-covered hull--a forlorn waif from the sea--was visible. "Another five yards, lads," exclaimed Ellerton cheerfully. "Now, put more beef into it." As he spoke, there was a warning shout from Mr. McKay, but the warning came too late. Ere the lads could realise the extent of their misfortune the cradle collapsed and the hull of the yawl crashed over on her side. With a horrible rending of the shattered timbers, the enormous mass pitched fairly on a jagged rock; the next instant the object of so many months' tedious toil lay on its broadside, hopelessly damaged. For quite a minute all hands gazed in speechless grief upon the scene of calamity. To have the fruits of victory snatched from their lips seemed almost more than they could realise, till by degrees the extent of their misfortune began to assert itself. "Is she really done for?" said Andy, his voice barely raised above a whisper. "Yes, her back's broken," replied his father. "She will never float again." "Then, by George!" announced Andy, speaking in a tone that surprised his companions by its resolution, "I won't be done. I begin to build another craft to-morrow. Come on, pater, let's get something to eat, and after that we'll set out the plans for our new craft. Buck up, Hoppy, it's no use crying over spilt milk." Inspired by their companion's cheerfulness, the lads turned their backs upon the scene of their ill-favoured labours and set off towards the house. They now felt specially anxious to devote their energies to the new task that lay before them, and already their late misfortune was being regarded as a thing of the past. "Without wishing to discourage you, Andy," began Mr. McKay, after the meal was over, "I think we had better give up all idea of building another craft. I've been going carefully into this matter, and I'll tell you why I form this conclusion. You see there's no timber growing on this island that can be used, and our own stock is insufficient even if we make use of the planks of the wrecked yawl. So I think the best thing we can do is to convert one of the canoes----" "But I thought we had already decided that they are unsuitable and unseaworthy?" "Quite so. As they are at present I should hesitate to make a long voyage in one of them, although the natives frequently travel great distances in this type of craft. So I think if we give the smallest canoe--for that one seems the handiest--a good keelson, bolt a false keel into it, and provide her with some stout timbers and stringers, she'll answer our purpose. We can use most of the deck planks of the yawl to deck-in the canoe. Her sails and most of her gear will come in handy." "It would certainly save a lot of work," replied Andy, for in calmer moments the size of his proposed task had begun to assert itself. "Then let's make a start," added Ellerton. "There's no time like the present, so I vote we begin to dismantle the remains of the yawl, examine and overhaul her canvas, and remove the ballast." "I haven't measured the smallest canoe," remarked Andy. "What's her length, do you think?" "About twenty-eight feet in length, nine in breadth, and two feet draught, though with the addition of a false keel and ballast she will draw at least four feet." Accordingly all hands set to work with a will, and ere nightfall the shattered hull of the yawl was a mere shell, the gear being stowed away in the lower storehouse. "To-morrow we'll make a start with the canoe," said Ellerton, as they prepared to retire for the night. "There are plenty of pieces of timber to shore her up, and wedges can easily be made. Before the end of the week we ought to have her keel and keelson bolted on." "Then sleep well on it," added Mr. McKay, "for there's much to be done." The inhabitants of McKay's Island had already made their customary signal with the searchlight, the power had been switched off, and the canvas hood placed over the instrument for the purpose of protecting it from the night dews. This routine was always the last ere the day's work ended. Mr. McKay was about to close the door of the dwelling-house when a rapid and prolonged ringing of the electric alarm bell broke upon the stillness of the night. Instantly there was a rush for the arms-rack where the rifles were kept ready for immediate use, and, securing their weapons, the whole party made for the open, Terence, according to a prearranged plan, running to the powerhouse to switch on the current, while the others took up their position at the palisade commanding the cliff-path. The night was pitch dark; a light breeze ruffled the palm trees, but beyond that all was still. Peering into the darkness the defenders waited, finger on trigger, to open fire on the first appearance of the foe. Then the alarm bell began to ring again. "There's someone climbing the path," whispered Ellerton, when the din had died away. "I wish Terence would hurry up with the searchlight; we could then see who the intruders are. There it is again," as the clanging of the bell commenced for the third time. In his natural anxiety and haste, Terence fumbled over his task, but at length the carbons fused and the giant beam of the searchlight threw its dazzling rays seaward. Then, trained by Donaghue's guiding hand, it swept the lower terraces and the beach, but neither hostile canvas nor lurking bloodthirsty warriors came within its blinding glare. "There's someone moving down there," exclaimed Andy, pointing towards the foot of the steep path. "See! To the right of that great boulder." "Hanged if I can," muttered Ellerton. Nevertheless he took aim with his rifle at the spot indicated by his chum. "It's only the shadows thrown by the moving beam," said Mr. McKay. "Terence, keep the light steady for a moment, will you?" The now stationary ray revealed the fact that some moving object was creeping cautiously over the rock-strewn beach immediately at the end of the path. "There's someone down there," whispered Ellerton, and almost as he spoke the alarm bell resumed its shrill warning. "I'm going down to see who or what it is," announced Mr. McKay, leaning his rifle against the stockade and drawing a revolver. Accompanied by Andy, Ellerton and Quexo, he descended the steep and rugged path. All at once Mr. McKay burst into a hearty laugh, his companions joining in as soon as they perceived the cause of his mirth. A huge turtle had crawled across the beach and was digging a hole in the sand with its flippers. This had set the alarm bell ringing. [Illustration: A HUGE TURTLE HAD CRAWLED ACROSS THE BEACH AND HAD SET THE ALARM BELL RINGING] As the larder needed filling, the turtle was dispatched and dragged up to the house. It was late in the forenoon of the next day ere the inmates turned out of their beds, for the previous night's diversion had deprived them of a fair share of their accustomed sleep. "Buck up and fill the kettle, Quexo," shouted Andy "I'm right hungry." The mulatto, taking a can in his hand, set out for the stream, but hardly had he stepped outside the door when he returned with consternation written all over his face. "Massa! Massa!" he gasped. "Canoes! Heap, plenty, much, great canoes!" CHAPTER XXV THE GREAT INVASION Quexo's warning was only too true. Less than a mile from the reef the sea was dotted with the brown mat sails of a large fleet of native craft all heading for the island. "Forty canoes at least, by Jove!" ejaculated Mr. McKay. "And taking twenty men to each--a low average--that means there are eight hundred of the wretches making straight for us." "It's long odds," replied Ellerton grimly, "but we'll do our best, and perhaps we may find a means of driving them off." "I should have thought the last little surprise would have settled them. We must give them credit for their persistence. There's one thing to our advantage, though; it's a day attack, and we are more or less prepared for it. But what are they up to now?" The advancing canoes had now reached the entrance to the lagoon, and, with marvellous precision, their sails were lowered, and the crews took to their paddles. Then, instead of heading straight for the beach, the whole flotilla turned its course parallel with the shore. "That's bad," remarked Mr. McKay, pausing in the act of dragging a box of ammunition from the house to the stockade. "They have learnt a lesson, and now they mean to take us on the flank or in the rear. Come on, lads, there's no time to be lost. We must follow them and see if we can prevent them landing." Fortunately the savages' idea of strategy was not very advanced. Instead of keeping one section of their fleet for the purpose of making a feint or a frontal attack while the other canoes skirted the island, the whole of the boats kept together. Loaded with ammunition-belts and carrying their rifles, the little band of defenders toiled up the path leading to the interior till they reached the summit of the cliffs overlooking the house. Then, bearing away to the left, they hastened to keep pace with their savage invaders. Through the palm-groves, fighting their way between patches of thick, prickly scrub, Mr. McKay and his companions continued their wearisome march, till, from the summit of the ridge that separated their bay from the one where they had first landed, they saw that the hostile canoes had gained considerably. The usually calm waters of the lagoon were broken into thousands of ripples by the swift-moving craft, while the cliffs re-echoed to the regular beats of their paddles. Yet, without attempting to land on that part of the shore, the savages continued their roundabout voyage. "It's no use going any farther," gasped Mr. McKay breathlessly. "We are only tiring ourselves out to no purpose. A hundred well-armed men would be powerless to prevent them landing." "Then what's to be done?" "We must return to the house and make every possible use of the few hours that as yet remain to us. I quite admit I have been guilty of a serious error of omission. While paying great attention to our seaward defences, we have entirely neglected the landward approach." On return to the terrace on which stood the dwelling-house and the power-station, the already wearied defenders immediately set to work to fortify the approach from the interior of the island. Sixty yards from the house began the narrow defile that afforded a road between the settlement and the treasure cave. On either side the cliffs towered to nearly one hundred feet, so that once the savages took possession of those heights the terrace could not be held. "I suppose we cannot launch one of the canoes, provision her, and make a dash for safety?" asked Terence. "It's too risky," replied Mr. McKay. "If seen, we should be overhauled in less than half-an-hour. No, we must stick to this place and hold it to the last, so let's set to at once." With the energy of despair all hands worked with feverish desperation, their loaded rifles lying within easy reach, while every moment they expected to hear the savage shouts of their bloodthirsty foes. Across the foot of the defile they dug a shallow trench, lining the inner side with boxes, crates, and other articles so as to form a barricade. It was a feeble defence at the most, but with five skilled riflemen armed with modern rifles behind it, the breastwork might serve its purpose. To guard against a shower of missiles from the summit of the adjacent cliffs, a lean-to roof of stout planks was hastily constructed, earth being thrown upon it to deaden the shock of heavy stones, while the remaining boxes of ammunition were brought up so that the supply was ready to hand. "Look here, Quexo," said Mr. McKay, "go to the stockade at the top of the cliff-path, and keep watch. Don't move, whatever happens, till we call you, even if you hear us firing; but if you see any signs of the savages landing on the beach, fire your rifle. You understand?" "Yas, massa," replied the mulatto, and snatching up his rifle he ran to his appointed post as quickly as his legs could carry him. "We mustn't forget water and provisions, Ellerton," said Mr. McKay. "They must be brought ready to hand, for if the fighting is prolonged we will have no time to go to the house for food and drink." "I'll bring some biscuits and water," replied Ellerton. "I remember how dry I was during the last attack. But, do you know, sir, I begin to feel quite hopeful, now our defences are completed." "It's certainly improved the situation, Hoppy," replied Mr. McKay. "But we've a tough job in front of us. Eight or nine hundred savages, each eager for a fight and keen on plundering us. We must not be over-confident. But now cut off and get the provisions and water." Ellerton quickly performed his task, and, having placed the water and biscuits in the spot indicated by Mr. McKay, he observed: "It's a pity we can't use some of that dynamite again." "We cannot make the trucks run up hill, and, besides, there are no rails, if that's what you mean." "No, sir, I know that," was the reply, "but I thought that if we could place a few tins of the stuff on those rocks we could easily manage to put a bullet through them at two hundred yards." "By all means we'll try it," said Mr. McKay heartily. "As I've often said, you're a brick." Accordingly Ellerton ran to the cave where the explosive was stored, and returned at a walking pace with nearly forty pounds of the dangerous compound. "Don't use all of it," said Mr. McKay. "Here, take these three tins; they'll be a better mark for us." Into each of the metal boxes Ellerton placed about ten pounds of the explosive, adding a few handfuls of iron, nails, and bits of scrap metal. Then, climbing over the breastwork, he was handed the rough-and-ready bombs. Thus laden he cautiously made his way up the rough defile till he reached a spot about two hundred yards from the defenders' position. Here a mass of fallen rock, the highest part ten feet in height, formed a suitable site for his operations, and without mishap the tin canisters were placed in such a position that they could readily be seen above the heads of any number of savages likely to come between them and the defences. Meanwhile Mr. McKay was busily engaged in preparing a number of hand-bombs, charging several small tins with explosive mixed with nails, and lashing a short length of thin rope securely to each completed missile. "I'm going to place these things here," said he, pointing to a small cleft in the cliff. "Be careful not to knock them, or we shall punish ourselves." "How are you going to throw them?" asked Ellerton, who had meanwhile returned from his expedition. "If they fall too close they will do us harm, and I don't think they can be thrown more than the length of a cricket-pitch." "By this," replied Mr. McKay, holding up a short stick with a notch cut in one end. "I lay the rope along the stick and jam its end between the palm of my hand and the wood. By swinging the stick a greatly increased power is obtained; at the right moment the cord is released and the bomb flies off at a tangent." "I see," replied Ellerton, and although he had great faith in Mr. McKay, he found himself wondering what the result would be did the missile not fly off at the correct tangent. Slowly the hours dragged, for, all the preparations for the defence being completed, the tedious and nerve-racking ordeal of waiting for the fray told more upon the energies of the defenders than would the actual fight. The sun was sinking low ere the alert watchers detected the distant shouts of the savages. "They've found the trail leading to the cave, I fancy," remarked Mr. McKay. "They'll be here before dark, unless I'm much mistaken. Terence, you had better start the dynamo and see that the searchlight is ready for use. Tell Quexo to come here and take your place. You must take sole charge of the seaward side of our defences. Now, listen: whatever you do, don't train the searchlight this way till I discharge my rifle. Keep the rays playing on the shore, and occasionally flash the beam skywards. It may bring us aid. When you hear the shot, slew the projector round and direct the beam straight up the defile. You quite understand?" "Yes, sir," replied Terence. "You can rely upon me." "I feel sure of it," was the quiet reply, as the lad set off on his responsible and single-handed task. "It will soon be dark," said Ellerton. "That will be all the better for us, for these brutes won't find their way so easily." "I don't think the darkness will stop them, provided they are not afraid of it. These savages can find their way by night like cats. Hullo, Quexo, tired, eh?" "No, massa, not berry tired. One eye he go sleep, den oder eye he go sleep." "Quexo means to go to sleep with one eye open," said Andy. "We ought to take a leaf from his book." "Yes, we'll feel the want of sleep as much as anything," replied his father. "Once the attack opens there will be little respite. It wouldn't be a bad idea if you three were to snatch a few moments' rest. I'll wake you up in time, never fear." This advice was acted upon, Andy, Ellerton, and Quexo stretching themselves out on the ground at the foot of the barricade, and in a few minutes, in spite of their risky position, the lads were sleeping soundly. Night had now fallen, and the ghostly white beams of the searchlight swept the shore, the noise of the distant surf mingling with the subdued fizzing of the carbons as Terence diligently attended to the working of the projector. The far-off shouts of the savages had now ceased. Probably the invaders, satisfied with the success of their unopposed landing, were awaiting the dawn ere they commenced their attack. Silence, when intent upon a hand-to-hand conflict, was a stranger to them, and for this Mr. McKay was thankful, since few things are more trying than the expectation of a sudden onslaught by an unseen and unheard foe. Notwithstanding this peculiarity on the part of the invaders, Mr. McKay did not for one moment relax his vigilance. Rifle in hand he stood, rarely altering his position, and gazed stedfastly in the direction of the defile, his ears alert for the faintest footfall or shout that might denote the approach of the bloodthirsty savages. Although the defenders were cut off from their carefully prepared retreat in the treasure cave, another shelter yet remained. The cavern where Blight had been kept a prisoner had been since used as a temporary storehouse for several casks of provisions. As a last resource it could be held, possibly for a month. But if the natives took the island and showed no disposition to leave, after having plundered the white man's possessions, even that refuge would be a means of only prolonging the sufferings of the defenders. Hopeful as he generally was, Mr. McKay fully realised that he and his companions were in a very tight fix, and unless the skill and resource of civilisation could overcome the superior numbers and reckless courage of the savages, nothing short of a timely rescue would save the defenders from death. Then Mr. McKay found himself counting the number of days which had elapsed since the French schooner had exchanged signals with the island. Even allowing for light winds and calms she would have had time to reach some port, and, should the captain keep his word, a gunboat or at least a trading vessel might be on her way to the rescue. Mr. McKay's thoughts were interrupted by a loud chorus of savage shouts at no great distance, then came the confused noise of scuffling feet tearing down the defile. "Up with you," he shouted. But the warning was unnecessary, for the three lads, awakened by the noise, were already standing to their arms. "It's the sheep!" exclaimed Ellerton. "The savages have frightened them, and they are running this way for shelter," said Andy. "That means that the natives will soon be at their heels." The terrified sheep continued their flight till they found their advance checked by the barricade, and in a confused, struggling mass they herded into the corner formed by the breastwork and the adjoining cliff, their loud baa-ing adding to the confusion. Then upon the brow of the rise at the end of the defile appeared a multitude of lights, and with fierce shouts the savages tore down the rough inclined path straight for the barricade. [Illustration: WITH FIERCE SHOUTS THE SAVAGES TORE DOWN THE PATH STRAIGHT FOR THE BARRICADE] CHAPTER XXVI A GREAT DISASTER The natives had furnished themselves with torches made from the branches of resinous trees, and in the ruddy flare the painted bodies of the warriors made an easy mark. "Three hundred yards," said Mr. McKay, setting up the backsight of his rifle. "Fire rapidly, but aim low. We may check the rush before they come to close quarters." The sharp reports of the rifles echoed along the rocky walls of the defile, and a series of loud shrieks told that the fire had not been in vain. Yet the onward rush was apparently unchecked, for though several of the torches were extinguished, the savages still rushed to the attack. "Where's the searchlight?" muttered Mr. McKay, as he thrust a fresh clip of cartridges into his magazine. At that moment the giant beam swung majestically round and fixed itself upon the gorge. Under the powerful rays the scene of horror was thrown into high relief. The upper part of the defile was literally choked with human beings. A few of the foremost warriors, drawing clear of the press, had managed to evade the death-dealing volleys, and with brandished clubs and spears were rushing upon the barricade. This much the defenders saw as the first flash of the searchlight was thrown upon the scene. The next instant the shouts of triumph and pain gave place to cries of terror. The blinding rays, coming apparently from out of the earth, were far more to be feared than the bullets. To the savage mind it was magic--black magic. The warlike mob seemed to melt away. Some of the warriors, throwing down their weapons, rushed from the scene of action with their arms pressed tightly across their eyes as if to shut out the penetrating beams; others dropped where they stood, grovelling in the dust and uttering cries, while in the space of five minutes the defile was deserted, save by the dead and wounded and a few of the natives, whose terror seemed to have rooted them to the earth. "That's spotted them!" exclaimed Andy, as he threw down his over-heated rifle. "I hope it will scare them right off the island." "It has worked wonders," assented Mr. McKay. "But be careful, some of those men are not dead, I feel sure. Bring down every man you see moving." Rifle on shoulder the lads waited. They quite realised the danger of allowing the natives to lurk in the defile, and as each cautiously moving body could be seen, as a terrified warrior slowly recovered from his panic, a carefully aimed shot caused him to fall. "We are comparatively secure till daylight," said Mr. McKay. "They've had another lesson. Andy, you might relieve Terence at the searchlight. Keep it fixed on the defile, though at intervals you might direct it seawards. Quexo, I want you to carry up as many pails of water as you can to Blight's cave. Ellerton, you're feeling fit, I hope? Will you keep a look-out, I am going to have forty winks." It was an exaggerated "forty winks." Mr. McKay, dead beat with his exertions, slept like a log till daybreak, Terence keeping him company. Ellerton had meanwhile climbed over the stockade and succeeded in bringing back several of the terrified sheep, which throughout the night had been huddled together in helpless terror. Beyond an occasional shot as a few of the wretched natives attempted to wriggle out of the death-trap, the rest of the night had passed without further disturbance; but the dawn revealed a different state of affairs. The discomfited savages were evidently built of stern stuff, for as soon as it was light, undaunted by their defeat in the hours of darkness, they took possession of the summit of the cliff overlooking the defenders' lines. Standing on the very edge of the precipice, like bronzed statues, several of the chiefs surveyed the scene beneath them, till, having taken in all that they wanted, they withdrew to the main body of warriors. Instantly the fierce shouts of the savages rent the air, and a shower of stones and throwing-spears was hurled upon the white men's defences. The missiles rattled on the iron roof of the house and upon the top of the shelter over the searchlight; but the defenders, safe within the covered-in barricade, were secure from the furious hail, though unable to reply by a single shot. Several of the sheep were transfixed by spears, each casualty being greeted with a hoarse roar of delight from the attackers. Terence, however, who had returned to his post at the seaward side of the terrace, saw the possibility of the searchlight being damaged by stones, and, regardless of the danger, he rushed from his shelter to place a screen of planks over the partially exposed instrument. His appearance was the signal for a redoubled discharge of missiles, but coolly he continued his task. "Get back to cover!" shouted Mr. McKay. At that moment a stone caught the lad in the side, and staggering a few paces he fell. A yell of triumph greeted the success of the savages; but without a moment's hesitation Ellerton rushed through the danger zone. Unscathed he gained his friend's side, and to his relief found that the missile had merely winded him. Fortunately Terence had the presence of mind to stagger to the remote side of the searchlight hut, where the two lads were protected from the hailstorm of stones. "Are you fit for a dash?" asked Ellerton after a while. "Yes," replied Terence, "I'm ready now." Seizing their rifles, the two friends rushed at top speed across the open ground and gained the shelter of the palisade guarding the cliff-path. Here they were, so to speak, on the wrong side of the fence, and had there been any savages on the shore their position would have been critical in the extreme. As it was, they were able to keep up a constant fire upon the natives on the cliff; but their foes seemed totally indifferent to the rifles, though man after man was observed to fall. The savages had not been idle. Realising that the buildings and the barricade at the end of the defile were proof against stones and spears, they rolled an enormous stone to the edge of the cliff with the intention of dropping it upon the roofed-in stockade. "Look out!" shouted Ellerton. "There's a rock about to fall on your heads!" Taking advantage of the warning shout, Mr. McKay, Quexo, and Andy crossed the covered way to the opposite side of the defile. Not a moment too soon. In spite of a couple of successful shots by Ellerton, who managed to bowl over one of the most active of the savages who were engaged in rolling the ponderous rock, the mass of stone rushed down the slope and shot clear of the cliff. The next instant it crashed through the frail roof of the barricade, and, in addition, smashed a huge gap in the wall of packing-cases and chests. "A near shave," ejaculated Mr. McKay. "If they keep that game up we shall soon be without a roof to our heads." Emboldened by their success, a considerable number of the savages worked their way round to the head of the gorge with the intention of charging the shattered defences, the remaining natives still keeping up a telling discharge from the brink of the cliff. "I must rush it," said Ellerton hurriedly, as he grasped the state of affairs. "Keep a good look-out along the shore, Terence. If I fall, don't attempt a rescue; there are not enough of us to throw ourselves away like that." Bending low, the lad ran across the danger zone once more, and although several spears fell close to him, he gained the side of his companions in safety. Seen by day, the advance of the savages had an even more fearful appearance than the night attack. Brandishing their weapons and uttering awful yells, they rushed down the gorge, with one object in view. They meant to come to hand-grips with the stubborn defenders of the barricade. "Now, Andy," remarked Mr. McKay quietly, "reserve your fire till the thickest of the press passes yonder rock, then aim carefully at that canister. Go on firing, you," he added to the other two lads. The execution caused by the three rifles amongst that solid pack of howling savages was great. No body of white men would have faced it, but undaunted the warriors swept on. Andy, finger on trigger, watched the advance till the critical moment; but his arm was not so firm as it ought to have been, and the bullet struck the rock a foot to the left of the tin of explosives. "Miss, by Jove!" he exclaimed savagely as he jerked open the breach and ejected the empty cylinder. Ere he could again take aim, Mr. McKay's rifle spoke. There was a blinding glare, followed by a deafening report, and the close ranks of the savages seemed to be swept aside as if by a gigantic flail. Not only did the dynamite charge scatter death amongst the natives, but the concussion brought down huge masses of rock from the cliffs, their fall adding to the terror and confusion of the attackers. "That's fifty of them at the very least," exclaimed Andy. "A few more coups like that, and we'll wipe them all out." "It will teach them caution, I'm afraid," was his father's reply. "But we've done very well up to the present. How's Terence?" "He was only slightly hurt," replied Ellerton. "No sign of any canoes?" "No, sir." "Thank Heaven for that," replied Mr. McKay fervently. "The explosion also sent off the other canisters," observed Andy. "Shall we place some others in the gorge when it is dark?" "I don't think they will attempt that way again," replied Mr. McKay. "They've had a rare fright, both by day and night." "I noticed a crowd of them on the cliffs immediately above the cave where the rest of the dynamite is stored," paid Ellerton. "If we can use the stuff to no better purpose, why not set a time-fuse, and give them another surprise?" "It might be done, but there's a great risk to be run by whoever lights the fuse." "I'm willing to do it," said Ellerton resolutely. "I can creep along the base of the cliff so as to be out of sight." "Then do it, my boy. Now's the time to act, before they have got over their last reverse." Without a moment's delay, Ellerton dashed across the spear-encumbered ground and gained the shelter of the overhanging cliffs. Then waving his hands to his companions, he disappeared from view. There was a lull in the fighting. The defenders, anxiously awaiting their comrade's return, lay idle within their defences, while the natives were content to hurl an occasional spear or stone upon the roofs of the buildings to show that they were still determined to continue the attack. "I hope Ellerton's all right," exclaimed Andy uneasily. "He's been gone quite long enough." "I cannot help thinking the same," replied his father. They waited another five minutes, then Quexo announced his intention of going to search for Massa El'ton. "Be careful, then, Quexo," said Andy. "Remember Mr. Ellerton may have lit the fuse--set fire to great bang-up," he added, noting that the mulatto looked puzzled over the word "fuse." "All right, Massa Andy. Quexo he mind take care ob self an' Massa El'ton." Another five minutes passed in breathless suspense. What had happened? Ellerton had only to cover a distance of about four hundred yards both ways. Allowing for the rugged nature of the ground, and the necessity for caution, he ought to have returned several minutes ago. Perhaps he had stumbled and was lying helpless within a few feet of the heavily charged mine. Suddenly two revolver shots rang out in quick succession, and Quexo's voice was heard shouting for aid. "Stay here, Andy," exclaimed his father hurriedly, and grasping his revolver he ran towards the scene of action, the report of another shot greeting his ears as he went. On rounding a spur of the cliff, a strange sight met his gaze. From the summit of the cliff dangled a long rope of cocoa-fibre. Half-way from the ground was a native, evidently badly wounded, grasping the swaying rope with one hand while the other was pressed against his side. On the ground at about twelve feet from the end of the rope lay four bodies in a heap, and on arriving at the spot Mr. McKay discovered to his consternation that two of the motionless forms were those of his companions. Quexo lay uppermost, a jagged spear-head buried deep in his back. One hurried glance revealed the sad truth that the faithful mulatto was dead. Under him were the bodies of two natives, both shot through the chest, while underneath the ghastly pile was Ellerton. As Mr. McKay stooped over the lad, a spear whizzed close to his ear and sank deeply in the ground. It was a stern warning, and Mr. McKay took advantage of it. Lifting Ellerton's body, he bore it to the shelter of the cliffs, then as the rope began to tremble violently he stepped out a pace, revolver in hand. He fired, and two bodies came hurtling through space, striking the ground with a heavy thud. A lucky shot had severed the rope as cleanly as if by a knife. There was no time to be lost. At any moment the mine might be sprung. Hoisting Ellerton's body on his shoulder like a sack of flour, Mr. McKay began his retreat, stepping over the rough ground with giant strides, till the shelter of the cliffs came to an end. Here he transferred his burden to his arms, and, protecting it as well as he was able with his own body, he dashed across the open. Unscathed he reached the roofed-in stockade, and breathlessly he deposited the body of his comrade upon the ground. "Dead?" asked Andy anxiously. "No, only stunned. It's a bad business." "And Quexo?" "He's gone, poor fellow!" "Oh!" Andy gasped, as if something had struck him; but the blow was a mental not a physical injury. "How----" His words were interrupted by a roar that seemed to shake the island to its very foundations. The cliffs trembled, dislodging masses of loose rock, while a blast of air swept over the terrace like a tornado. The mine had exploded! CHAPTER XXVII THE LAST STAND The explosion, though terrific, had not the desired effect. Ellerton had succeeded in lighting the fuse, and was on his way back, when the natives lowered a rope from the cliffs. No doubt they had observed him on his way to the cave as he rather thoughtlessly showed himself in crossing the base of the projecting spur. Cunningly two of the savages lowered themselves on to a ledge within twenty feet of the ground, and on Ellerton's return they hurled a stone with unerring aim, bringing him senseless to the ground. Eager to secure his body, the two assailants descended the remaining distance, and were stooping over the prostrate youth when Quexo appeared on the scene. A couple of well-directed shots settled their accounts; but the mulatto, in rushing to Ellerton's assistance, failed to notice that the edge of the cliff above him swarmed with natives. Even as he bent over the bodies of Ellerton and his assailants, a spear thrown with terrible force struck him in the back. Hardly knowing what hurt him, the mulatto sprang to his feet, and with his dying strength discharged his revolver at one of the blacks who was descending the rope, ere he fell across the bodies of the victims of his first two shots. This episode had caused the crowd of savages, who had previously been congregating immediately above the mine, to rush to that part of the cliff nearest to the scene of the tragedy, and thus the actual explosion did not inflict very great damage upon the invaders. Nevertheless the moral result was a good service to the sore-pressed white men, for the savages refrained from renewing the attack, and withdrew to the shelter of the palm-groves. The approach of night also prolonged the mutual cessation of hostilities, for the natives dreaded the great flashing beams of light more than anything else. Terence, in spite of himself, fell asleep several times beside the searchlight, while Andy, weary-eyed and stricken with grief, was kept awake solely by his devotion to his wounded comrade. Fortunately Ellerton's injuries were not so bad as Mr. McKay had at first supposed. The missile had struck him a glancing blow, and although reducing him to insensibility, was more of the nature of a cut than a contusion. There had been a copious flow of blood which relieved the pressure on the scalp that a bruise would have otherwise caused. Before midnight Ellerton had recovered sufficiently to relate the circumstances of the affair so far as he knew, although he was ignorant of the actual ambush. Neither did Mr. McKay think fit to tell him at present of Quexo's death in his heroic and successful attempt to save his master from mutilation. * * * * * With the return of daylight the savages renewed the attack. Large stones, brought to the brink of the cliff by their stupendous efforts, came crashing down upon the frail defences, till only a small section of the barricade midway between the walls of the defile remained intact. Here Mr. McKay and Terence kept up a continuous but apparently ineffectual fire, while Ellerton, still weak and showing signs of light-headedness, did his best with a revolver. Andy, nearly done up for want of rest, resumed his solitary vigil at the cliff path, occasionally adding to the fusillade whenever a group of natives appeared at the edge of the cliff to hurl another of the weighty missiles. With parched lips and swollen eyes the weary little band continued the unequal combat, almost unable to raise their rifles to their aching shoulders, till, to add to their misfortunes, Andy perceived ten large canoes rounding the south-eastern promontory of the island. The natives had at length grasped the importance of a simultaneous rear and frontal attack. "We must retreat to Blight's cave," exclaimed Mr. McKay, when his son had shouted the disheartening intelligence. "Let us hope the explosion has not closed up the entrance. Pull yourself together, Hoppy! We've got to make a rush for it." "I'm going to stay here--I'm quite comfortable where I am," replied Ellerton with astonishing determination. "But you can't, man; you'll be cut to pieces in less than a minute." But Ellerton refused to move. His comrades looked at each other anxiously. In ordinary circumstances it would have been no easy task to compel the lad to get up and walk, and with a few hundred savages hanging round, the difficulties were increased tenfold. "I'll risk it," muttered Mr. McKay. "It's either kill or cure." And raising his voice he said: "Hoppy, old man, Quexo is missing. He went to look for you and has not returned." "What?" exclaimed Ellerton wildly. "Quexo missing? I'll go and look for him." "We are all going," replied Mr. McKay. "Take your rifle and keep with us." The savages saw the white men deserting the shelter of the barricade, and with shouts of triumph they redoubled the hail of missiles, while numbers of them rushed to the head of the defile and thence straight for the abandoned defences. Edging cautiously along the base of the cliff, the forlorn little band continued its retreat till Ellerton, who was leading, came across the body of the faithful mulatto. For a moment he gazed at the ghastly scene with drawn face and staring eyes; then, his scattered wits returning, he burst into tears. "Good!" exclaimed Mr. McKay to his son. "That's saved his reason. But here they come." Already the leading pursuers were appearing on the edge of the cliff-path, while others, rushing down the gorge, had scrambled over the debris of the barricade, and with brandished clubs and spears were charging down upon their white foes. "Pick him up, Hoppy; we must not leave him to those fiends," shouted Andy. Assisted by Terence, Ellerton raised the body of the mulatto on his back, and, covered by Mr. McKay and Andy, continued the retreat. As they reached the scene of the great explosion, they found that masses of dislodged boulders extended almost to the edge of the lower cliff. Slowly Ellerton and Terence bore their burden over the rough, rock-strewn ground, the savages meanwhile gaining upon them rapidly. "Keep going at any cost," shouted Mr. McKay. "Gain the door of the fence, and look out for us. Andy, we must make a stand here." "All right, pater," replied his son as he took cover behind a convenient mass of stones. The two rifles opened a furious fire upon the advancing natives. Not a shot was thrown away, and although stones and spears whizzed over their heads or shattered themselves against the sheltering rock, father and son continued to blaze away coolly, and deliberately. The savages, now more or less contemptuously familiar with the white men's weapons, hesitated to close in upon the dauntless twain, and, shouting to their fellows to hasten to help them to wipe out the white men, they contented themselves with rushing to the right and left in the hope of surrounding their foes. "Stop that chap!" yelled Andy, pointing to a crafty warrior, who was creeping on all fours up the rocks on Mr. McKay's left. Barely two inches of the man's head were visible above the sheltering boulder, but those two inches were sufficient. Mr. McKay's rifle cracked, and the savage bounded a good three feet in the air to fall upon his face upon the ground. "They're safe!" shouted Mr. McKay, giving a rapid glance in the direction of the iron fence. "Now, bolt for it!" Springing over the remainder of the intervening boulders, father and son ran for shelter. For a brief instant the natives failed to understand that their foes were again in retreat; then, to the accompaniment of a flight of spears, they launched themselves over the latest line of defence and pressed home the pursuit. Rifle in hand, Terence and Ellerton stood by the open door to aid their comrades' retreat; another five yards, then comparative safely. Suddenly Andy stumbled and fell headlong on the ground, his rifle flying from his grasp; the next instant half-a-dozen natives were upon him. Without a moment's hesitation, Mr. McKay faced about, and, drawing his revolver, fired. At the first report one of the pursuers fell; but the hammer of the weapon clicked harmlessly as Mr. McKay attempted to bring down a second. The weapon was empty. Throwing the now useless weapon straight into the face of one of the savages, Mr. McKay stooped to pick up his rifle, a spear just grazing his shoulder as he did so. With the strength and fury of a Berserker, he gripped the rifle by the barrel, and wielding it like a ponderous flail he smote right and left. At one moment the brass-bound butt crashed with a terrific lunge full in the tattooed face of a native; at the next it descended with relentless force upon the skull of another. Then Ellerton's rifle cracked and Terence's revolver added to the din. The blacks seemed to melt away; and ere the main body of the pursuers could join in the struggle, the white men were safe within the stockade. "Don't trouble about the door," shouted Mr. McKay, as Terence was about to close and barricade the iron-lined aperture. Breathlessly the harried fugitives entered the cave, and, holding their rifles ready for instant use, awaited the arrival of their triumphant foes. The door of the fence standing tantalisingly open served a better purpose than if it had been closed and barred. Had it been secured, the savages would soon have battered it in by sheer weight of numbers; but even in the heat of the pursuit the natives paused and looked askance at the mute invitation to enter. Fears of some other snare, more terrible than those they had already experienced, held them in a spell-bound grip. The temporary check gave the defenders a chance of much-needed rest. "Now, lads," exclaimed Mr. McKay, "we are safe enough for the present. A thousand of the wretches couldn't rush us in this place. But keep your eyes open, and let rip at the first chap who shows his head inside the door." There was a touch of irony in Mr. McKay's advice. Want of sleep threatened to become a more dangerous foe than the savages themselves, and the lads were almost falling asleep as they awaited the next assault. All at once Mr. McKay raised his rifle and fired. A gaudily-decked warrior had so far overcome his fears and doubts as to peer cautiously into the inclosure. His curiosity led to his undoing, for, without knowing what struck him, he slid quietly to the ground with a bullet through his brain. But the spell was broken, and with a hideous clamour the natives poured in through the doorway. Many fell dead or wounded, while others tripped over their prostrate bodies; but by sheer weight of numbers the fence was overthrown, and over the removed obstruction rushed the bloodthirsty mob. Seeing that it was impossible to check the flowing tide of warriors as they sped over the broad expanse, the defenders hurriedly retired into the farthermost recesses of the cave. Here they were able to command the narrow entrance, and with a rapid magazine fire they simply mowed down every savage who showed himself at the mouth of the cave. At last, disheartened by the obvious impossibility of rushing the desperate band of white men, the warriors retired, and silence reigned save for the moans of the wounded who littered the floor of the cavern. Worn out as they were, the four defenders, as soon as possible, scooped out a shallow trench for the reception of the body of Quexo, who had been killed, and silently the earth was heaped over the still form of this their faithful servant and devoted comrade. "Now turn in for a spell," said Mr. McKay, as the last offices were performed. "I'll take the first watch. I think I can keep awake for another couple of hours." Vainly protesting, the lads obeyed and were soon asleep. Shouldering his rifle, Mr. McKay walked as far as the overthrown fence, whence he could command a view of the house. Swarming in and out of the building were the natives bearing away everything of value, while others were demolishing the searchlight, which they evidently regarded as an evil spirit, whose powers were harmless by day. The work of plunder continued till nothing was left of the dwelling but the bare walls and roof, and presently the building burst into flames. Hoping against hope, Mr. McKay watched with impotent rage the wanton destruction of the result of so many months of patient toil and energy. Would the natives be content with their success, and re-embark with their booty? Already several of them, laden with spoil, were descending the cliff-path to their canoes; were the white men to be left unmolested? Without thinking of the sore straits to which they would be reduced by the loss of their home with most of their stores, Mr. McKay waited and watched. The possibility of a fresh lease of life, even under such adverse conditions, was infinitely preferable to having to fight desperately to the last. But his hopes were doomed to failure. A strong body of savages began to ascend the slope leading to the cave, and, to his consternation, the watcher perceived that many of them were bearing bundles of sticks and grass. It was to be a struggle not only against the spears and clubs of the natives, but against fire and smoke, and Mr. McKay realised that the choice of the defenders lay between a fight to the death in the open or being stifled in the recesses of the cave. CHAPTER XXVIII THE RESCUE Returning to the cave, Mr. McKay awoke the lads and hurriedly explained the nature of the threatened attack. "We must quit this shelter and keep in the open as long as we possibly can," said he. "A long-range fire may keep them at bay. Only as a last resource must we return to the cave." Barely had the defenders left the cavern than they were assailed from above by a shower of stones and spears. Several of the savages had taken up a position on the summit of the cliff overhanging the mouth of the white men's retreat, so as to make the advance of the main body easier. Thrown into confusion by this unlooked-for attack, the four defenders fled headlong for the cave they had just left, narrowly escaping the falling missiles. Then, finding that the jutting rocks protected them so long as they kept close to the base of the cliff, the wearied men plucked up courage, and opened fire upon the dense masses of the natives as they advanced rapidly with their burdens. Many of the savages fell, but others immediately took up their loads, and working from cover to cover with admirable cunning the natives came within throwing distance of their spears. The rifle-fire, hot as it was, was unable to stop the fan-like formation of the crafty warriors, and, assailed by stones and spears, the defenders were once more compelled to retire to the cave. Repeated repulses had taught the natives caution, and without risking themselves by appearing in front of the death-dealing tunnel, they thrust their bundles of wood and grass into the mouth of the cave by means of long poles. Then a torch was flung upon the heap of inflammable material, and the next instant it burst into flames. "Throw some water on it," grasped Terence, as the heat began to take effect. "Useless," replied Mr. McKay. "It would only cause more smoke," and lifting a case of ammunition he rushed towards the blazing pile. "Lie down!" he ordered sharply, as he regained his comrades. Crouched in the remotest part of the cave, they awaited the explosion. Then with a roar, followed by a series of minor reports, the cartridges exploded, filling the cave with pungent fumes. As the last detonation ended, Mr. McKay leapt to his feet, and, revolver in hand, dashed through the scattered and still burning embers. His companions followed his example, and gained the open. Even as they drank in the deliciously cool air they were compelled to resume the unequal combat, though the savages, alarmed by the explosion and the sudden appearance of their foes, gave back in terror. Edging along the base of the cliff, for the darts and stones still descended, regardless of friend or foe, the defenders blazed away at their enemies, till the latter recovered from their fright and returned to the attack. Not till they were in grave danger of being cut off did Mr. McKay and his companions return to the cave once more to endure the torments of the smoke-laden atmosphere. This time the savages did not leave them in peace. With poised weapons the wily warriors waited on either side of the entrance, while others descended from the terrace and procured fresh fuel. Splashing their faces with water, and fanning the noxious fumes with portions of their clothes, the defenders strove to cool their parched and heated bodies, realising that another half-hour would doubtless see the end of the unequal struggle. "I'm not going to be smoked out like a rat in a hole," exclaimed Ellerton. "I'll make a dash for it and die in the open." "It's the only way," replied Mr. McKay. "If we are to die we must die like Britons, fighting to the last." Hardly had the forlorn party made this desperate decision, when a sharp ear-splitting explosion, followed almost immediately by another, was heard without the cave. Yells of terror and noisy surprise arose, and the savages fled right and left. For a moment the defenders were unable to grasp the meaning of the interruption, till Andy shouted: "Hurrah! A rescue!" and overcome by mental and bodily strain, he fell on the floor in a swoon. Terence and Ellerton were about to rush to the mouth of the cave, but Mr. McKay restrained them. "Lie down!" he exclaimed. "They're firing with shell, and we shall be blown to atoms if we go outside." It was, to a certain extent, unfortunate that the inhabitants of McKay's Island were unable to observe the means by which they were so opportunely rescued from what appeared to be a terrible and remorseless fate. While the preparations for the smoking-out of the still-resisting white men were in progress, H.M.S. _Blazer_ was steaming straight for the island. Unnoticed by the natives, she gained the entrance to the lagoon, the leadsmen in the chains, and the decks cleared for action. The alert commander had already observed the smouldering ruins of what was obviously at no remote time a civilised settlement, and the shouts of the desperate savages told him that resistance was still being made. H.M.S. _Blazer_ was but a third-class cruiser, mainly engaged in surveying duties in the Pacific. Her armament consisted of two 4.7-inch guns, one mounted fore and aft, six twelve-pounders, and ten Maxims, and these were amply sufficient for the work in hand. Rounding to in seven fathoms, and less than three hundred yards from the scene of the desperate encounter, the _Blazer_ opened fire. Her commander had noted the actual locality of the defenders' retreat, and carefully avoiding the spot for fear of harming friend as well as foe, he had a couple of shells planted in the fringe of the attacking natives. Those two shells were sufficient. Madly the survivors fled along the terrace in the direction of the defile leading to the ulterior, and as they ran they were subjected to a raking fire by the quick-firers and Maxims, till only a small remnant gained the shelter of the palm-groves. "Man and arm boats!" came the order. But ere the landing-party gained the shore, not a living savage was to be seen. Panic-stricken they fled to the far side of the island, where they embarked in their canoes. "We're too late, it seems," remarked the lieutenant in charge, as he gazed upon the devastated scene. "Those brutes were running from up yonder, sir," observed a petty-officer, pointing towards the upper terrace. "Maybe there's someone up there among the rocks." "Party, fall in!" ordered the officer, and giving the word to march, he led the way over the open ground, which was littered by the victims of the _Blazer's_ fire. "Strike me; wot's this?" ejaculated the petty-officer, as four battered specimens of humanity appeared above the crest of a rise of ground and floundered painfully towards their rescuers, who gave them a hearty cheer. "We were certainly in the nick of time," remarked Commander Bulwark, as, five hours later, Mr. McKay and the three lads were seated in the _Blazer's_ wardroom. "We received a telegraphic message from Tahiti while we were lying off Suva, to the effect that a French trader reported that she had communicated with British castaways; but was unable, owing to the high seas that were running, to render assistance. So we came at full speed, and, I am glad to say, with fortunate results. We are leaving here to-morrow for Sydney. I suppose you don't object to being landed there?" "By no means," replied Mr. McKay. "I think we've had enough of the island to last us a lifetime." In a few words Mr. McKay told the commander of the finding of the treasure, and how it was hidden under the floor of the house. "Treasure, eh? Well, you're lucky in more than one way. There are plenty of islands in the Pacific where treasure is supposed to be hidden. We usually regard these stories as a myth, but you've evidently proved that such things do exist. Let me congratulate you once again. I'll send ashore at once." Before nightfall the treasure chests were conveyed safely on board the cruiser. The bluejackets also placed a pile of stones over the grave of the brave mulatto, a simple inscription setting forth his name and the manner of his death; while for the benefit of possible future castaways, a paper giving particulars of the stores deposited in the treasure cave was placed in an air-tight case and lashed to a post in a conspicuous position on the shore. Shortly after daybreak on the following day Mr. McKay and the three lads watched from the poop of the _Blazer_ the rapidly receding land which for so many months had been their home; and in silence they stood gazing with wistful eyes till the summit of the peak of McKay's Island sank beneath the horizon. THE END _The Mayflower Press, Plymouth, England_. William Brendon & Son, Ltd. THE SCOUT LIBRARY STORIES OF ADVENTURE. _In Cloth Covers. Price 2s. 6d. Net. Postage 5d. extra._ THE YOUNG CAVALIER. By PERCY F. WESTERMAN. 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21714	----	THE RED ERIC, BY R.M. BALLANTYNE. CHAPTER ONE. THE TALE BEGINS WITH THE ENGAGING OF A "TAIL"--AND THE CAPTAIN DELIVERS HIS OPINIONS ON VARIOUS SUBJECTS. Captain Dunning stood with his back to the fireplace in the back-parlour of a temperance coffee-house in a certain town on the eastern seaboard of America. The name of that town is unimportant, and, for reasons with which the reader has nothing to do, we do not mean to disclose it. Captain Dunning, besides being the owner and commander of a South Sea whale-ship, was the owner of a large burly body, a pair of broad shoulders, a pair of immense red whiskers that met under his chin, a short, red little nose, a large firm mouth, and a pair of light-blue eyes, which, according to their owner's mood, could flash like those of a tiger or twinkle sweetly like the eyes of a laughing child. But his eyes seldom flashed; they more frequently twinkled, for the captain was the very soul of kindliness and good-humour. Yet he was abrupt and sharp in his manner, so that superficial observers sometimes said he was hasty. Captain Dunning was, so to speak, a sample of three primary colours-- red, blue, and yellow--a walking fragment, as it were, of the rainbow. His hair and face, especially the nose, were red; his eyes, coat, and pantaloons were blue, and his waistcoat was yellow. At the time we introduce him to the reader he was standing, as we have said, with his back to the fireplace, although there was no fire, the weather being mild, and with his hands in his breeches pockets. Having worked with the said hands for many long years before the mast, until he had at last worked himself _behind_ the mast, in other words, on to the quarterdeck and into possession of his own ship, the worthy captain conceived that he had earned the right to give his hands a long rest; accordingly he stowed them away in his pockets and kept them there at all times, save when necessity compelled him to draw them forth. "Very odd," remarked Captain Dunning, looking at his black straw hat which lay on the table before him, as if the remark were addressed to it--"very odd if, having swallowed the cow, I should now be compelled to worry at the tail." As the black straw hat made no reply, the captain looked up at the ceiling, but not meeting with any response from that quarter, he looked out at the window and encountered the gaze of a seaman flattening his nose on a pane of glass, and looking in. The captain smiled. "Ah! here's a tail at last," he said, as the seaman disappeared, and in another moment reappeared at the door with his hat in his hand. It may be necessary, perhaps, to explain that Captain Dunning had just succeeded in engaging a first-rate crew for his next whaling voyage (which was the "cow" he professed to have swallowed), with the exception of a cook (which was the "tail," at which he feared he might be compelled to worry). "You're a cook, are you?" he asked, as the man entered and nodded. "Yes, sir," answered the "tail," pulling his forelock. "And an uncommonly ill-favoured rascally-looking cook you are," thought the captain; but he did not say so, for he was not utterly regardless of men's feelings. He merely said, "Ah!" and then followed it up with the abrupt question-- "Do you drink?" "Yes, sir, and smoke too," replied the "tail," in some surprise. "Very good; then you can go," said the captain, shortly. "Eh!" exclaimed the man: "You can go," repeated the captain. "You won't suit. My ship is a temperance ship, and all the hands are teetotalers. I have found from experience that men work better, and speak better, and in every way act better, on tea and coffee than on spirits. I don't object to their smoking; but I don't allow drinkin' aboard my ship; so you won't do, my man. Good-morning." The "tail" gazed at the captain in mute amazement. "Ah! you may look," observed the captain, replying to the gaze; "but you may also mark my words, if you will. I've not sailed the ocean for thirty years for nothing. I've seen men in hot seas and in cold--on grog, and on tea--and _I_ know that coffee and tea carry men through the hardest work better than grog. I also know that there's a set o' men in this world who look upon teetotalers as very soft chaps--old wives, in fact. Very good," (here the captain waxed emphatic, and struck his fist on the table.) "Now look here, young man, _I'm_ an old wife, and my ship's manned by similar old ladies; so you won't suit." To this the seaman made no reply, but feeling doubtless, as he regarded the masculine specimen before him, that he would be quite out of his element among such a crew of females, he thrust a quid of tobacco into his cheek, put on his hat, turned on his heel and left the room, shutting the door after him with a bang. He had scarcely left when a tap at the door announced a second visitor. "Hum! Another `tail,' I suppose. Come in." If the new-comer _was_ a "tail," he was decidedly a long one, being six feet three in his stockings at the very least. "You wants a cook, I b'lieve?" said the man, pulling off his hat. "I do. Are you one?" "Yes, I jist guess I am. Bin a cook for fifteen year." "Been to sea as a cook?" inquired the captain. "I jist have. Once to the South Seas, twice to the North, an' once round the world. Cook all the time. I've roasted, and stewed, and grilled, and fried, and biled, right round the 'arth, I have." Being apparently satisfied with the man's account of himself, Captain Dunning put to him the question--"Do you drink?" "Ay, like a fish; for I drinks nothin' but water, I don't. Bin born and raised in the State of Maine, d'ye see, an' never tasted a drop all my life." "Very good," said the captain, who plumed himself on being a clever physiognomist, and had already formed a good opinion of the man. "Do you ever swear?" "Never, but when I can't help it." "And when's that?" "When I'm fit to bu'st." "Then," replied the captain, "you must learn to bu'st without swearin', 'cause I don't allow it aboard my ship." The man evidently regarded his questioner as a very extraordinary and eccentric individual; but he merely replied, "I'll try;" and after a little further conversation an agreement was come to; the man was sent away with orders to repair on board immediately, as everything was in readiness to "up anchor and away next morning." Having thus satisfactorily and effectually disposed of the "tail," Captain Dunning put on his hat very much on the back of his head, knit his brows, and pursed his lips firmly, as if he had still some important duty to perform; then, quitting the hotel, he traversed the streets of the town with rapid strides. CHAPTER TWO. IMPORTANT PERSONAGES ARE INTRODUCED TO THE READER--THE CAPTAIN MAKES INSANE RESOLUTIONS, FIGHTS A BATTLE, AND CONQUERS. In the centre of the town whose name we have declined to communicate, there stood a house--a small house--so small that it might have been more appropriately, perhaps, styled a cottage. This house had a yellow-painted face, with a green door in the middle, which might have been regarded as its nose, and a window on each side thereof, which might have been considered its eyes. Its nose was, as we have said, painted green, and its eyes had green Venetian eyelids, which were half shut at the moment Captain Dunning walked up to it as if it were calmly contemplating that seaman's general appearance. There was a small garden in front of the house, surrounded on three sides by a low fence. Captain Dunning pushed open the little gate, walked up to the nose of the house, and hit it several severe blows with his knuckles. The result was that the nose opened, and a servant-girl appeared in the gap. "Is your mistress at home?" inquired the captain. "Guess she is--both of 'em!" replied the girl. "Tell both of 'em I'm here, then," said the captain, stepping into the little parlour without further ceremony; "and is my little girl in?" "Yes, she's in." "Then send her here too, an' look alive, lass." So saying, Captain Dunning sat down on the sofa, and began to beat the floor with his right foot somewhat impatiently. In another second a merry little voice was heard in the passage, the door burst open, a fair-haired girl of about ten years of age sprang into the room, and immediately commenced to strangle her father in a series of violent embraces. "Why, Ailie, my darling, one would think you had not seen me for fifty years at least," said the captain, holding his daughter at arm's-length, in order the more satisfactorily to see her. "It's a whole week, papa, since you last came to see me," replied the little one, striving to get at her father's neck again, "and I'm sure it seems to me like a hundred years at least." As the child said this she threw her little arms round her father, and kissed his large, weather-beaten visage all over--eyes, mouth, nose, chin, whiskers, and, in fact, every attainable spot. She did it so vigorously, too, that an observer would have been justified in expecting that her soft, delicate cheeks would be lacerated by the rough contact; but they were not. The result was a heightening of the colour, nothing more. Having concluded this operation, she laid her cheek on the captain's and endeavoured to clasp her hands at the back of his neck, but this was no easy matter. The captain's neck was a remarkably thick one, and the garments about that region were voluminous; however, by dint of determination, she got the small fingers intertwined, and then gave him a squeeze that ought to have choked him, but it didn't: many a strong man had tried that in his day, and had failed signally. "You'll stay a long time with me before you go away to sea again, won't you, dear papa?" asked the child earnestly, after she had given up the futile effort to strangle him. "How like!" murmured the captain, as if to himself, and totally unmindful of the question, while he parted the fair curls and kissed Ailie's forehead. "Like what, papa?" "Like your mother--your beloved mother," replied the captain, in a low, sad voice. The child became instantly grave, and she looked up in her father's face with an expression of awe, while he dropped his eyes on the floor. Poor Alice had never known a mother's love. Her mother died when she was a few weeks old, and she had been confided to the care of two maiden aunts--excellent ladies, both of them; good beyond expression; correct almost to a fault; but prim, starched, and extremely self-possessed and judicious, so much so that they were injudicious enough to repress some of the best impulses of their natures, under the impression that a certain amount of dignified formality was essential to good breeding and good morals in every relation of life. Dear, good, starched Misses Dunning! if they had had their way, boys would have played cricket and football with polite urbanity, and girls would have kissed their playmates with gentle solemnity. They did their best to subdue little Alice, but that was impossible. The child _would_ rush about the house at all unexpected and often inopportune seasons, like a furiously insane kitten and she _would_ disarrange their collars too violently every evening when she bade them good-night. Alice was intensely sympathetic. It was quite enough for her to see any one in tears, to cause her to open up the flood-gates of her eyes and weep--she knew not and she cared not why. She threw her arms round her father's neck again, and hugged him, while bright tears trickled like diamonds from her eyes. No diamonds are half so precious or so difficult to obtain as tears of genuine sympathy! "How would you like to go with me to the whale-fishery?" inquired Captain Dunning, somewhat abruptly as he disengaged the child's arms and set her on his knee. The tears stopped in an instant, as Alice leaped, with the happy facility of childhood, totally out of one idea and thoroughly into another. "Oh, I should like it _so_ much!" "And how much is `so' much, Ailie?" inquired the captain. Ailie pursed her mouth, and looked at her father earnestly, while she seemed to struggle to give utterance to some fleeting idea. "Think," she said quickly, "think something good _as much as ever you can_. Have you thought?" "Yes," answered the captain, smiling. "Then," continued Ailie, "its twenty thousand million times as much as that, and a great deal more!" The laugh with which Captain Dunning received this curious explanation of how much his little daughter wished to go with him to the whale-fishery, was interrupted by the entrance of his sisters, whose sense of propriety induced them to keep all visitors waiting at least a quarter of an hour before they appeared, lest they should be charged with unbecoming precipitancy. "Here you are, lassies; how are ye?" cried the captain as he rose and kissed each lady on the cheek heartily. The sisters did not remonstrate. They knew that their brother was past hope in this respect, and they loved him, so they suffered it meekly. Having admitted that they were well--as well, at least, as could be expected, considering the cataract of "trials" that perpetually descended upon their devoted heads--they sat down as primly as if their visitor were a perfect stranger, and entered into a somewhat lengthened conversation as to the intended voyage, commencing, of course, with the weather. "And now," said the captain, rubbing the crown of his straw hat in a circular manner, as if it were a beaver, "I'm coming to the point." Both ladies exclaimed, "What point, George?" simultaneously, and regarded the captain with a look of anxious surprise. "_The_ point," replied the captain, "about which I've come here to-day. It ain't a point o' the compass; nevertheless, I've been steerin' it in my mind's eye for a considerable time past. The fact is" (here the captain hesitated), "I--I've made up my mind to take my little Alice along with me this voyage." The Misses Dunning wore unusually tall caps, and their countenances were by nature uncommonly long, but the length to which they grew on hearing this announcement was something preternaturally awful. "Take Ailie to sea!" exclaimed Miss Martha Dunning, in horror. "To fish for whales!" added Miss Jane Dunning, in consternation. "Brother, you're mad!" they exclaimed together, after a breathless pause; "and you'll do nothing of the kind," they added firmly. Now, the manner in which the Misses Dunning received this intelligence greatly relieved their eccentric brother. He had fully anticipated, and very much dreaded, that they would at once burst into tears, and being a tender-hearted man he knew that he could not resist that without a hard struggle. A flood of woman's tears, he was wont to say, was the only sort of salt water storm he hadn't the heart to face. But abrupt opposition was a species of challenge which the captain always accepted at once--off-hand. No human power could force him to any course of action. In this latter quality Captain Dunning was neither eccentric nor singular. "I'm sorry you don't like my proposal, my dear sisters," said he; "but I'm resolved." "You won't!" said Martha. "You shan't!" cried Jane. "I _will_!" replied the captain. There was a pause here of considerable length, during which the captain observed that Martha's nostrils began to twitch nervously. Jane, observing the fact, became similarly affected. To the captain's practised eye these symptoms were as good as a barometer. He knew that the storm was coming, and took in all sail at once (mentally) to be ready for it. It came! Martha and Jane Dunning were for once driven from the shelter of their wonted propriety--they burst simultaneously into tears, and buried their respective faces in their respective pocket-handkerchiefs, which were immaculately clean and had to be hastily unfolded for the purpose. "Now, now, my dear girls," cried the captain, starting up and patting their shoulders, while poor little Ailie clasped her hands, sat down on a footstool, looked up in their faces--or, rather, at the backs of the hands which covered their faces--and wept quietly. "It's very cruel, George--indeed it is," sobbed Martha; "you know how we love her." "Very true," remarked the obdurate captain; "but you _don't_ know how _I_ love her, and how sad it makes me to see so little of her, and to think that she may be learning to forget me--or, at least," added the captain, correcting himself as Ailie looked at him reproachfully through her tears--"at least to do without me. I can't bear the thought. She's all I have left to me, and--" "Brother," interrupted Martha, looking hastily up, "did you ever before hear of such a thing as taking a little girl on a voyage to the whale-fishing?" "No, never," replied the captain; "what has that got to do with it?" Both ladies held up their hands and looked aghast. The idea of any man venturing to do what no one ever thought of doing before was so utterly subversive of all their ideas of propriety--such a desperate piece of profane originality--that they remained speechless. "George," said Martha, drying her eyes, and speaking in tones of deep solemnity, "did you ever read _Robinson Crusoe_?" "Yes, I did, when I was a boy; an' that wasn't yesterday." "And did you," continued the lady in the same sepulchral tone, "did you note how that man--that beacon, if I may use the expression, set up as a warning to deter all wilful boys and men from reckless, and wicked, and wandering, and obstreperous courses--did you note, I say, how that man, that beacon, was shipwrecked, and spent a dreary existence on an uninhabited and dreadful island, in company with a low, dissolute, black, unclothed companion called Friday?" "Yes," answered the captain, seeing that she paused for a reply. "And all," continued Martha, "in consequence of his resolutely and obstinately, and wilfully and wickedly going to sea?" "Well, it couldn't have happened if he hadn't gone to sea, no doubt." "Then," argued Martha, "will you, can you, George, contemplate the possibility of your only daughter coming to the same dreadful end?" George, not exactly seeing the connection, rubbed his nose with his forefinger, and replied--"Certainly not." "Then you are bound," continued Martha, in triumph, "by all that is upright and honourable, by all the laws of humanity and _propriety_, to give up this wild intention--and you _must_!" "There!" cried Miss Jane emphatically, as if the argument were unanswerable--as indeed it was, being incomprehensible. The last words were unfortunate. They merely riveted the captain's determination. "You talk a great deal of nonsense, Martha," he said, rising to depart. "I've fixed to take her, so the sooner you make up your minds to it the better." The sisters knew their brother's character too well to waste more time in vain efforts; but Martha took him by the arm, and said earnestly--"Will you promise me, my dear George, that when she comes back from this voyage, you will never take her on another?" "Yes, dear sister," replied the captain, somewhat melted, "I promise that." Without another word Martha sat down and held out her arms to Ailie, who incontinently rushed into them. Propriety fled for the nonce, discomfited. Miss Martha's curls were disarranged beyond repair, and Miss Martha's collar was crushed to such an extent that the very laundress who had washed and starched and ironed it would have utterly failed to recognise it. Miss Jane looked on at these improprieties in perfect indifference--nay, when, after her sister had had enough, the child was handed over to her, she submitted to the same violent treatment without a murmur. For once Nature was allowed to have her way, and all three had a good hearty satisfactory cry; in the midst of which Captain Dunning left them, and, proceeding on board his ship, hastened the preparations for his voyage to the Southern Seas. CHAPTER THREE. THE TEA-PARTY--ACCIDENTS AND INCIDENTS OF A MINOR KIND--GLYNN PROCTOR GETS INTO TROUBLE. On the evening of the day in which the foregoing scenes were enacted, the Misses Dunning prepared a repast for their brother and one or two of his officers, who were to spend the last evening in port there, and discuss various important and unimportant matters in a sort of semi-convivio-business way. An event of this kind was always of the deepest interest and productive of the most intense anxiety to the amiable though starched sisters; first, because it was of rare occurrence; and second, because they were never quite certain that it would pass without some unhappy accident, such as the upsetting of a tea-cup or a kettle, or the scalding of the cat, not to mention visitors' legs. They seemed to regard a tea-party in the light of a firearm--a species of blunderbuss--a thing which, it was to be hoped, would "go off well"; and, certainly, if loading the table until it groaned had anything to do with the manner of its "going off," there was every prospect of its doing so with pre-eminent success upon that occasion. But besides the anxieties inseparable from the details of the pending festivities, the Misses Dunning were overwhelmed and weighed down with additional duties consequent upon their brother's sudden and unexpected determination. Little Ailie had to be got ready for sea by the following morning! It was absolute and utter insanity! No one save a madman or a sea-captain could have conceived such a thing, much less have carried it into effect tyrannically. The Misses Dunning could not attempt any piece of duty or work separately. They always acted together, when possible; and might, in fact, without much inconvenience, have been born Siamese twins. Whatever Martha did, Jane attempted to do or to mend; wherever Jane went, Martha followed. Not, by any means, that one thought she could improve upon the work of the other; their conduct was simply the result of a desire to assist each other mutually. When Martha spoke, Jane echoed or corroborated; and when Jane spoke, Martha repeated her sentences word for word in a scarcely audible whisper--not after the other had finished, but during the course of the remarks. With such dispositions and propensities, it is not a matter to be wondered at that the good ladies, while arranging the tea-table, should suddenly remember some forgotten article of Ailie's wardrobe, and rush simultaneously into the child's bedroom to rectify the omission; or, when thus engaged, be filled with horror at the thought of having left the buttered toast too near the fire in the parlour. "It is really quite perplexing," said Martha, sitting down with a sigh, and regarding the tea-table with a critical gaze; "quite perplexing. I'm sure I don't know how I shall bear it. It is too bad of George-- darling Ailie--(dear me, Jane, how crookedly you have placed the urn)-- it is really too bad." "Too bad, indeed; yes, isn't it?" echoed Jane, in reference to the captain's conduct, while she assisted Martha, who had risen to readjust the urn. "Oh!" exclaimed Martha, with a look of horror. "What?" cried Jane, who looked and felt equally horrified, although she knew not yet the cause. "The eggs!" "The eggs?" "Yes, the eggs. You know every one of the last dozen we got was bad, and we've forgot to send for more," said Martha. "For more; so we have!" cried Jane; and both ladies rushed into the kitchen, gave simultaneous and hurried orders to the servant-girl, and sent her out of the house impressed with an undefined feeling that life or death depended on the instant procuring of two dozen fresh eggs. It may be as well to remark here, that the Misses Dunning, although stiff, and starched, and formal, had the power of speeding nimbly from room to room, when alone and when occasion required, without in the least degree losing any of their stiffness or formality, so that we do not use the terms "rush," "rushed," or "rushing" inappropriately. Nevertheless, it may also be remarked that they never acted in a rapid or impulsive way in company, however small in numbers or unceremonious in character the company might be--always excepting the servant-girl and the cat, to whose company, from long habit, they had become used, and therefore indifferent. The sisters were on their knees, stuffing various articles into a large trunk, and Ailie was looking on, by way of helping, with very red and swollen eyes, and the girl was still absent in quest of eggs, when a succession of sounding blows were administered to the green door, and a number of gruff voices were heard conversing without. "_There_!" cried Martha and Jane, with bitter emphasis, looking in each other's faces as if to say, "We knew it. Before that girl was sent away for these eggs, we each separately and privately prophesied that they would arrive, and that we should have to open the door. And you see, so it has happened, and we are not ready!" But there was no time for remark. The case was desperate. Both sisters felt it to be so, and acted accordingly, while Ailie, having been forbidden to open the door, sat down on her trunk, and looked on in surprise. They sprang up, washed their hands simultaneously in the same basin, with the same piece of soap broken in two; dried them with the same towel, darted to the mirror, put on two identically similar clean tall caps, leaped down-stairs, opened the door with slow dignity of demeanour, and received their visitors in the hall with a calmness and urbanity of manner that contrasted rather strangely with their flushed countenances and heaving bosoms. "Hallo! Ailie!" exclaimed the captain, as his daughter pulled down his head to be kissed. "Why, you take a fellow all aback, like a white squall. Are you ready, my pet? Kit stowed and anchor tripped? Come this way, and let us talk about it. Dear me, Martha, you and Jane--look as if you had been running a race, eh? Here are my messmates come to talk a bit with you. My sisters, Martha and Jane--Dr Hopley." (Dr Hopley bowed politely.) "My first mate, Mr Millons" (Mr Millons also bowed, somewhat loosely); "and Rokens--Tim Rokens, my chief harpooner." (Mr Rokens pulled his forelock, and threw back his left leg, apparently to counterbalance the bend in his body.) "He didn't want to come; said he warn't accustomed to ladies' society; but I told him you warn't ladies--a--I don't mean that--not ladies o' the high-flyin' fashionable sort, that give themselves airs, you know. Come along, Ailie." While the captain ran on in this strain, hung up his hat, kissed Ailie, and ran his fingers through his shaggy locks, the Misses Dunning performed a mingled bow and courtsey to each guest as his name was mentioned, and shook hands with him, after which the whole party entered the parlour, where the cat was discovered enjoying a preliminary meal of its own at one of the pats of butter. A united shriek from Martha and Jane, a nautical howl from the guests, and a rolled-up pocket-handkerchief from Rokens sent that animal from the table as if it had received a galvanic shock. "I ax yer parding, ladies," said Mr Rokens, whose aim had been so perfect that his handkerchief not only accelerated the flight of the cat, but carried away the violated pat of butter along with it. "I ax yer parding, but them brutes is sich thieves--I could roast 'em alive, so I could." The harpooner unrolled his handkerchief, and picking the pat of butter from its folds with his fingers, threw it into the fire. Thereafter he smoothed down his hair, and seated himself on the extreme edge of a chair, as near the door as possible. Not that he had any intention whatever of taking to flight, but he deemed that position to be more suited to his condition than any other. In a few minutes the servant-girl returned with the eggs. While she is engaged in boiling them, we shall introduce Captain Dunning's friends and messmates to the reader. Dr Hopley was a surgeon, and a particular friend of the captain's. He was an American by birth, but had travelled so much about the world that he had ceased to "guess" and "calculate," and to speak through his nose. He was a man about forty, tall, big-boned, and muscular, though not fat; and besides being a gentlemanly man, was a good-natured, quiet creature, and a clever enough fellow besides, but he preferred to laugh at and enjoy the jokes and witticisms of others rather than to perpetrate any himself. Dr Hopley was intensely fond of travelling, and being possessed of a small independence, he indulged his passion to the utmost. He had agreed to go with Captain Dunning as the ship's doctor, simply for the sake of seeing the whale-fishery of the South Seas, having already, in a similar capacity, encountered the dangers of the North. Dr Hopley had few weaknesses. His chief one was an extravagant belief in phrenology. We would not be understood to imply that phrenology is extravagant; but we assert that the doctor's belief in it was extravagant, assigning, as he did, to every real and ideal facility of the human mind "a local habitation and a name" in the cranium, with a corresponding depression or elevation of the surface to mark its whereabouts. In other respects he was a commonplace sort of a man. Mr Millons, the first mate, was a short, hale, thick-set man, without any particularly strong points of character. He was about thirty-five, and possessed a superabundance of fair hair and whiskers, with a large, broad chin, a firm mouth, rather fierce-looking eyes, and a hasty, but by no means a bad temper. He was a trustworthy, matter-of-fact seaman, and a good officer, but not bright intellectually. Like most men of his class, his look implied that he did not under-estimate his own importance, and his tones were those of a man accustomed to command. Tim Rokens was an old salt; a bluff, strong, cast-iron man, of about forty-five years of age, who had been at sea since he was a little boy, and would not have consented to live on dry land, though he had been "offered command of a seaport town all to himself," as he was wont to affirm emphatically. His visage was scarred and knotty, as if it had been long used to being pelted by storms--as indeed it had. There was a scar over his left eye and down his cheek, which had been caused by a slash from the cutlass of a pirate in the China Seas; but although it added to the rugged effect of his countenance, it did not detract from the frank, kindly expression that invariably rested there. Tim Rokens had never been caught out of temper in his life. Men were wont say he had no temper to lose. Whether this was true or no, we cannot presume to say, but certainly he never lost it. He was the best and boldest harpooner in Captain Dunning's ship, and a sententious deliverer of his private opinion on all occasions whatsoever. When we say that he wore a rough blue pilot-cloth suit, and had a large black beard, with a sprinkling of silver hairs in it, we have completed his portrait. "What's come of Glynn?" inquired Captain Dunning, as he accepted a large cup of smoking tea with one hand, and with the other handed a plate of buttered toast to Dr Hopley, who sat next him. "I really cannot imagine," replied Miss Martha. "No, cannot imagine," whispered Miss Jane. "He promised to come, and to be punctual," continued Miss Martha ("Punctual," whispered Miss J), "but something seems to have detained him. Perhaps--" Here Miss Martha was brought to an abrupt pause by observing that Mr Rokens was about to commence to eat his egg with a teaspoon. "Allow me, Mr Rokens," she said, handing that individual an ivory eggspoon. "Oh, cer'nly, ma'am. By all means," replied Rokens, taking the spoon and handing it to Miss Jane, under the impression that it was intended for her. "I beg pardon, it is for yourself, Mr Rokens," said Martha and Jane together. "Thank'ee, ma'am," replied Rokens, growing red, as he began to perceive he was a little "off his course" somehow. "I've no occasion for _two_, an' this one suits me oncommon." "Ah! you prefer big spoons to little ones, my man, don't you?" said Captain Dunning, coming to the rescue. "Let him alone, Martha, he's used to take care of himself. Doctor, can you tell me now, which is the easiest of digestion--a hard egg or a soft one?" Thus appealed to, Dr Hopley paused a moment and frowned at the teapot, as though he were about to tax his brain to the utmost in the solution of an abstruse question in medical science. "Well now," he replied, stirring his tea gently, and speaking with much deliberation, "that depends very much upon circumstances. Some digestions can manage a hard egg best, others find a soft one more tractable. And then the state of the stomach at the time of eating has to be taken into account. I should say now, that my little friend Ailie, here, to judge from the rosy colour of her cheeks, could manage hard or soft eggs equally well; couldn't you, eh?" Ailie laughed, as she replied, "I'm sure I don't know, Doctor Hopley; but I _like_ soft ones best." To this, Captain Dunning said, "Of course you do, my sensible little pet;" although it would be difficult to show wherein lay the sensibility of the preference, and then added--"There's Rokens, now; wouldn't you, doctor--judging from his rosy, not to say purple cheeks--conclude that he wasn't able to manage even two eggs of any kind?" "Wot, _me_!" exclaimed Mr Rokens, looking up in surprise, as indeed he well might, having just concluded his fourth, and being about to commence his fifth egg, to the no small anxiety of Martha and Jane, into whose limited and innocent minds the possibility of such a feat had never entered. "Wot, _me_! Why, capting, if they was biled as hard as the head of a marline-spike--" The expanding grin on the captain's face, and a sudden laugh from the mate, apprised the bold harpooner at this point of his reply that the captain was jesting, so he felt a little confused, and sought relief by devoting himself assiduously to egg Number 5. It fared ill with Tim Rokens that evening that he had rashly entered into ladies' society, for he was a nervous man in refined company, though cool and firm as a grounded iceberg when in the society of his messmates, or when towing with the speed of a steamboat in the wake of a sperm-whale. Egg Number 5 proved to be a bad one. Worse than that, egg Number 5 happened to belong to that peculiar class of bad eggs which "go off" with a little crack when hit with a spoon, and sputter their unsavoury contents around them. Thus it happened, that when Mr Rokens, feeling confused, and seeking relief in attention to the business then in hand, hit egg Number 5 a smart blow on the top, a large portion of its contents spurted over the fair white tablecloth, a small portion fell on Mr Rokens' vest, and a minute yellow globule thereof alighted on the fair Martha's hand, eliciting from that lady a scream, and as a matter of course, an echo from Jane in the shape of a screamlet. Mr Rokens flushed a deep Indian-red, and his nose assumed a warm blue colour instantly. "Oh! ma'am, I ax yer parding." "Pray don't mention it--a mere accident. I'm so sorry you have got a bad--Oh!" The little scream with which Miss Martha interrupted her remark was caused by Mr Rokens (who had just observed the little yellow globule above referred to) seizing her hand, and wiping away the speck with the identical handkerchief that had floored the cat and swept away the pat of butter. Immediately thereafter, feeling heated, he wiped the perspiration from his forehead, and unwittingly transferred the spot thereto in the form of a yellow streak, whereat Ailie and the first mate burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. Even Miss Martha smiled, although she rather objected to jesting, as being a dangerous amusement, and never laughed at the weaknesses or misfortunes of others, however ludicrous they might be, when she could help it. "How can you, brother?" she said, reproachfully, shaking her head at the captain, who was winking at the doctor with one eye in a most obstreperous manner. "Do try another egg, Mr Rokens; the others, I am sure, are fresh. I cannot imagine how a bad one came to be amongst them." "Ah, try another, my lad," echoed the captain. "Pass 'em up this way, Mr Millons." "By no manner o' means; I'll eat this 'un!" replied the harpooner, commencing to eat the bad egg with apparent relish. "I like 'em this way--better than nothin', anyhow. Bless ye, marm, ye've no notion wot sort o' things I've lived on aboard ship--" Rokens came to an abrupt pause in consequence of the servant-girl, at a sign from her mistresses (for she always received duplicate orders), seizing his plate and carrying it off bodily. It was immediately replaced by a clean one and a fresh egg. While Rokens somewhat nervously tapped the head of Number 6, Miss Martha, in order to divert attention from him, asked Mr Millons if sea-fare was always salt junk and hard biscuit? "Oh, no, madam," answered the first mate. "We've sometimes salt pork, and vegetables now and agin; and pea-soup, and plum-duff--" "Plum-duff, Ailie," interrupted the captain, in order to explain, "is just a puddin' with few plums and fewer spices in it. Something like a white-painted cannon-shot, with brown spots on it here and there." "Is it good?" inquired Ailie. "Oh, ain't it!" remarked Mr Rokens, who had just concluded Number 6, and felt his self-possession somewhat restored. "Yes, miss, it is; but it ain't equal to whale's-brain fritters, it ain't; them's first-chop." "Have whales got brains?" inquired Miss Martha, in surprise. "Brains!" echoed Miss Jane, in amazement. "Yes, madam, they 'ave," answered the first mate, who had hitherto maintained silence, but having finished tea was now ready for any amount of talk; "and what's more remarkable still, they've got several barrels of oil in their skulls besides." "Dear me!" exclaimed the sisters. "Yes, ladies, capital oil it is, too; fetches a 'igher price hin the markit than the other sort." "By the bye, Millons, didn't you once fall into a whale's skull, and get nearly drowned in oil?" inquired the doctor. "I did," answered the first mate, with the air of a man who regarded such an event as a mere trifle, that, upon consideration, might almost be considered as rather a pleasant incident than otherwise in one's history. "Nearly drowned in oil!" exclaimed the sisters, while Ailie opened her eyes in amazement, and Mr Rokens became alarmingly purple in the face with suppressed chuckling. "It's true," remarked Rokens, in a hoarse whisper to Miss Martha, putting his hand up to his mouth, the better to convey the sound to her ears; "I seed him tumble in, and helped to haul him out." "Let's have the story, Millons," cried the captain, pushing forward his cup to be replenished; "It's so long since I heard it, that I've almost forgotten it. Another cup o' tea, Martha, my dear--not quite so strong as the last, and three times as sweet. I'll drink `Success to the cup that cheers, but don't inebriate.' Go ahead, Millons." Nothing rejoiced the heart of Mr Millons more than being asked to tell a story. Like most men who are excessively addicted to the habit, his stories were usually very long and very dry; but he had a bluff good-natured way of telling them, that rendered his yarns endurable on shore, and positively desirable at sea. Fortunately for the reader, the story he was now requested to relate was not a long one. "It ain't quite a _story_," he began--and in beginning he cleared his throat with emphasis, thrust his thumbs into the arm-holes of his vest, and tilted his chair on its hind-legs--"it ain't quite a story; it's a hanecdote, a sort of hincident, so to speak, and this is 'ow it 'appened:-- "Many years ago, w'en I was a very young man, or a big boy, I was on a voyage to the South Seas after whales. Tim Rokens was my messmate then, and has bin so almost ever since, off, and on." (Mr Rokens nodded assent to this statement.) "Well, we came up with a big whale, and fixed an iron cleverly in him at the first throw--" "An iron?" inquired Miss Martha, to whose mind flat and Italian irons naturally occurred. "Yes, madam, an iron; we call the 'arpoons irons. Well, away went the fish, like all alive! not down, but straight for'ard, takin' out the line at a rate that nearly set the boat on fire, and away we went along with it. It _was_ a chase, that. For six hours, off and on, we stuck to that whale, and pitched into 'im with 'arpoons and lances; but he seemed to have the lives of a cat--nothin' would kill 'im. At last the 'arpooner gave him a thrust in the life, an' up went the blood and water, and the fish went into the flurries, and came nigh capsizin' the boat with its tail as it lashed the water into foam. At last it gave in, and we had a four hours' pull after that, to tow the carcase to the ship, for there wasn't a cat's-paw of wind on the water. "W'en we came alongside, we got out the tackles, and before beginning to flense (that means, ma'am, to strip off the blubber), we cut a hole in the top o' the skull to get out the oil that was there; for you must know that the sperm-whale has got a sort of 'ollow or big cavern in its 'ead, w'ich is full o' the best oil, quite pure, that don't need to be cleared, but is all ready to be baled out and stowed away in casks. Well, w'en the 'ole was cut in its skull I went down on my knees on the edge of it to peep in, when my knees they slipped on the blubber, and in I went 'ead-foremost, souse into the whale's skull, and began to swim for life in the oil. "Of course I began to roar for 'elp like a bull, and Rokens there, 'oo 'appened to be near, 'e let down the hend of a rope, but my 'ands was so slippy with oil I couldn't ketch 'old of it; so 'e 'auls it up agin, and lets down a rope with a 'ook at the hend, and I got 'old of this and stuck it into the waistband o' my trousers, and gave the word, `'Eave away, my 'earties;' and sure enough so they did, and pulled me out in a trice. And that's 'ow it was; and I lost a suit o' clo's, for nothing on 'arth would take the oil out, and I didn't need to use pomatum for six months after." "No more you did," cried Rokens, who had listened to the narrative with suppressed delight; "no more you did. I never see sich a glazed rat as you wos when you comed out o' that hole, in all my life; an' he wos jist like a eel; it wos all we could do to keep 'old on 'im, marm, he was so slippery." While the captain was laughing at the incident, and Rokens was narrating some of the minute details in the half-unwilling yet half-willing ears of the sisters, the door opened, and a young man entered hastily and apologised for being late. "The fact is, Miss Dunning, had I not promised faithfully to come, I should not have made my appearance at all to-night." "Why, Glynn, what has kept you, lad?" interrupted the captain. "I thought you were a man of your word." "Ay, that's the question, capting," said Rokens, who evidently regarded the new arrival with no favourable feelings; "it's always the way with them _gentlemen_ sailors till they're got into blue water and brought to their bearin's." Mr Rokens had wisdom enough to give forth the last part of his speech in a muttered tone, for the youth was evidently a favourite with the captain, as was shown by the hearty manner in which he shook him by the hand. "Messmates, this is Glynn Proctor, a friend o' mine," said Captain Dunning, in explanation: "he is going with us this voyage _before_ the mast, so you'll have to make the most of him as an equal to-night, for I intend to keep him in his proper place when afloat. He chooses to go as an ordinary seaman, against my advice, the scamp; so I'll make him keep his head as low as the rest when aboard. You'll to keep your time better, too, than you have done to-night, lad," continued the captain, giving his young friend a slap on the shoulder. "What has detained you, eh?" "Necessity, captain," replied the youth, with a smile, as he sat down to table with an off-hand easy air that savoured of recklessness; "and I am prepared to state, upon oath if need be, that necessity is not `the mother of invention.' If she had been, she would have enabled me to invent a way of escape from my persecutors in time to keep my promise to Miss Dunning." "Persecutors, Glynn!" exclaimed Martha; "to whom do you refer?" "To the police of this good city." "Police!" echoed the captain, regarding his young friend seriously, while the doctor and the first mate and Tim Rokens listened in some surprise. "Why, the fact is," said Glynn, "that I have just escaped from the hands of the police, and if it had not been that I was obliged to make a very wide detour, in order to reach this house without being observed, I should have been here long ago." "Boy, boy, your hasty disposition will bring you into serious trouble one of these days," said the captain, shaking his head. "What mischief have you been about?" "Ay, there you go--it's my usual fate," cried Glynn, laughing. "If I chance to get into a scrape, you never think of inquiring whether it was my fault or my misfortune. This time, however, it _was_ my misfortune, and if Miss Dunning will oblige me with a cup of tea, I'll explain how it happened. "Little more than two hours ago I left the ship to come here to tea, as I had promised to do. Nikel Sling, the long-legged cook you engaged this morning, went ashore with me. As we walked up the street together, I observed a big porter passing along with a heavy deal plank on his shoulder. The street was somewhat narrow and crowded at that part, and Sling had turned to look in at a shop-window just as the big fellow came up. The man shouted to my shipmate to get out o' the way, but the noise in the street prevented him from hearing. Before I could turn to touch the cook's arm, the fellow uttered an oath and ran the end of the plank against his head. Poor Sling was down in an instant. Before I well knew what I was about, I hit the porter between the eyes and down he went with a clatter, and the plank above him. In a moment three policemen had me by the collar. I tried to explain, but they wouldn't listen. As I was being hurried away to the lock-up, it flashed across me that I should not only lose my tea and your pleasant society this evening, but be prevented from sailing to-morrow, so I gave a sudden twist, tripped up the man on my left, overturned the one on my right, and bolted." "They ran well, the rascals, and shouted like maniacs, but I got the start of 'em, dived down one street, up another, into a by-lane, over a back-garden wall, in at the back-door of a house and out at the front, took a round of two or three miles, and came in here from the west; and whatever other objections there may be to the whole proceeding, I cannot say that it has spoiled my appetite." "And so, sir," said Captain Dunning, "you call this your `misfortune?'" "Surely, captain," said Glynn, putting down his cup and looking up in some surprise--"surely, you cannot blame me for punishing the rascal who behaved so brutally, without the slightest provocation, to my shipmate!" "Hear, hear!" cried Rokens involuntarily. "I do blame you, lad," replied the captain seriously. "In the first place, you had no right to take the law into your own hands. In the second place, your knocking down the man did no good whatever to your shipmate; and in the third place, you've got yourself and me and the ship into a very unsatisfactory scrape." Rokens' face, which had hitherto expressed approval of Glynn's conduct, began to elongate as the captain went on in this strain; and the youth's recklessness of manner altogether disappeared as inquired, "How so, captain? I have escaped, as you see; and poor Sling, of course, was not to blame, so he'll be all safe aboard, and well, I hope, by this time." "There you're mistaken, boy. They will have secured Sling and made him tell the name of his ship, and also the name of his pugnacious comrade." "And do you think he'd be so mean as to tell?" asked Glynn indignantly. "You forget that the _first_ act in this nice little melodrama was the knocking down of Sling, so that he could not know what happened after, and the police would not be so soft as to tell him _why_ they wanted such information until after they had got it." Poor Glynn looked aghast, and Rokens was overwhelmed. "It seems to me, I'd better go and see about this," said Millons, rising and buttoning his coat with the air of a man who had business to transact and meant to transact it. "Right, Millons," answered the captain. "I'm sorry to break up our evening so soon, but we must get this man aboard by hook or crook as speedily as possible. You had better go too, doctor. Rokens and I will take care of this young scamp, who must be made a nigger of in order to be got on board, for his face, once seen by these sharp limbs of justice, is not likely soon to be forgotten." Glynn Proctor was indeed a youth whose personal appearance was calculated to make a lasting impression on most people. He was about eighteen years of age, but a strong, well-developed muscular frame, a firm mouth, a large chin, and an eagle eye, gave him the appearance of being much older. He was above the middle height, but not tall, and the great breadth of his shoulders and depth of his chest made him appear shorter than he really was. His hair was of that beautiful hue called nut-brown, and curled close round his well-shaped head. He was a model of strength and activity. Glynn Proctor had many faults. He was hasty and reckless. He was unsteady, too, and preferred a roving idle life to a busy one; but he had redeeming qualities. He was bold and generous. Above all, he was unselfish, and therefore speedily became a favourite with all who knew him. Glynn's history is briefly told. He was an Englishman. His father and mother had died when he was a child, and left him in charge of an uncle, who emigrated to America shortly after his brother's death. The uncle was a good man, after a fashion, but he was austere and unlovable. Glynn didn't like him; so when he attained the age of thirteen, he quietly told him that he meant to bid him good-bye, and go seek his fortune in the world. The uncle as quietly told Glynn that he was quite right, and the sooner he went the better. So Glynn went, and never saw his uncle again, for the old man died while he was abroad. Glynn travelled far and encountered many vicissitudes of fortune in his early wanderings; but he was never long without occupation, because men liked his looks, and took him on trial without much persuasion. To say truth, Glynn never took the trouble to persuade them. When his services were declined, he was wont to turn on his heel and walk away without a word of reply; and not unfrequently he was called back and employed. He could turn his hand to almost anything, but when he tired of it, he threw it up and sought other work elsewhere. In the course of his peregrinations, he came to reside in the city in which our story finds him. Here he had become a compositor in the office of a daily newspaper, and, happening to be introduced to the Misses Dunning, soon became a favourite with them, and a constant visitor at their house. Thus he became acquainted with their brother. Becoming disgusted with the constant work and late hours of the printing-office, he resolved to join Captain Dunning's ship, and take a voyage to southern seas as an ordinary seaman. Glynn and little Alice Dunning were great friends, and it was a matter of extreme delight to both of them that they were to sail together on this their first voyage. Having been made a nigger of--that is, having had his face and hands blackened in order to avoid detection--Glynn sallied forth with the captain and Rokens to return to their ship, the _Red Eric_, which lay in the harbour, not ten minutes' walk from the house. They passed the police on the wharf without creating suspicion, and reached the vessel. CHAPTER FOUR. THE ESCAPE. "Well, Millons, what news?" inquired the captain, as he stepped on deck. "Bad news, sir, I fear" replied the first mate. "I found, on coming aboard, that no one knew anything about Sling, so I went ashore at once and 'urried up to the hospital, w'ere, sure enough, I found 'im lyin' with his 'ead bandaged, and lookin' as if 'e were about gone. They asked me if I knew what ship 'e belonged to, as the police wanted to know. So I told 'em I knew well enough, but I wasn't going to tell if it would get the poor fellow into a scrape. "`Why don't you ask himself?' says I. "They told me 'e was past speaking, so I tried to make 'im understand, but 'e only mumbled in reply. W'en I was about to go 'e seemed to mumble very 'ard, so I put down my ear to listen, and 'e w'ispered quite distinct tho' very low--`All right, my 'eartie. I'm too cute for 'em by a long way; go aboard an' say nothin'.' So I came away, and I've scarce been five minutes aboard before you arrived. My own opinion is, that 'e's crazed, and don't know what 'e's sayin'." "Oh!" ejaculated Captain Dunning. "He said that, did he? Then _my_ opinion is, that he's not so crazed as you think. Tell the watch, Mr Millons, to keep a sharp look-out." So saying, Captain Dunning descended to the cabin, and Rokens to the forecastle (in sea phraseology the "fok-sail"), while Glynn Proctor procured a basin and a piece of soap, and proceeded to rub the coat of charcoal off his face and hands. Half-an-hour had not elapsed when the watch on deck heard a loud splash near the wharf, as if some one had fallen into the water. Immediately after, a confused sound of voices and rapid footsteps was heard in the street that opened out upon the quay, and in a few seconds the end of the wharf was crowded with men who shouted to each other, and were seen in the dim starlight to move rapidly about as if in search of something. "Wot can it be?" said Tim Rokens in a low voice, to a seaman who leaned on the ship's bulwarks close to him. "Deserter, mayhap," suggested the man. While Rokens pondered the suggestion, a light plash was heard close to the ship's side, and a voice said, in a hoarse whisper, "Heave us a rope, will ye. Look alive, now. Guess I'll go under in two minits if ye don't." "Oho!" exclaimed Rokens, in a low, impressive voice, as he threw over the end of a rope, and, with the aid of the other members of the watch, hauled Nikel Sling up the side, and landed him dripping and panting on the deck. "W'y--Sling! what on airth--?" exclaimed one of the men. "It's lucky--I am--on airth--" panted the tall cook, seating himself on the breech of one of the main-deck carronades, and wringing the water from his garments. "An' it's well I'm not at the bottom o' this 'ere 'arbour." "But where did ye come from, an' why are they arter ye, lad?" inquired Rokens. "W'y? 'cause they don't want to part with me, and I've gi'n them the slip, I guess." When Nikel Sling had recovered himself so as to talk connectedly, he explained to his wondering shipmates how that, after being floored in the street, he had been carried up to the hospital, and on recovering his senses, found Mr Millons standing by the bedside, conversing with the young surgeons. The first words of their conversation showed him that something was wrong, so, with remarkable self-possession, he resolved to counterfeit partial delirium, by which means he contrived to give the first mate a hint that all was right, and declined, without creating suspicion, to give any intelligible answers as to who he was or where he had come from. The blow on his head caused him considerable pain, but his mind was relieved by one of the young surgeons, who remarked to another, in going round the wards, that the "skull of that long chap wasn't fractured after all, and he had no doubt he would be dismissed cured in a day or two." So the cook lay quiet until it was dark. When the house-surgeon had paid his last visit, and the nurses had gone their rounds in the accident-ward, and no sound disturbed the quiet of the dimly-lighted apartment save the heavy fitful breathing and occasional moans and restless motions of the sufferers, Nikel Sling raised himself on his elbow, and glanced stealthily round on the rows of pain-worn and haggard countenances around him. It was a solemn sight to look upon, especially at that silent hour of the night. There were men there with almost every species of painful wound and fracture. Some had been long there, wasting away from day to day, and now lay quiet, though suffering, from sheer exhaustion. Others there were who had been carried in that day, and fidgeted impatiently in their unreduced strength, yet nervously in their agony; or, in some cases, where the fear of death was on them, clasped their hands and prayed in whispers for mercy to Him whose name perhaps they had almost never used before except for the purpose of taking it in vain. But such sights had little or no effect on the cook, who had rubbed hard against the world's roughest sides too long to be easily affected by the sight of human suffering, especially when exhibited in men. He paused long enough to note that the nurses were out of the way or dozing, and then slipping out of bed, he stalked across the room like a ghost, and made for the outer gateway of the hospital. He knew the way, having once before been a temporary inmate of the place. He reached the gate undiscovered, tripped up the porter's heels, opened the wicket, and fled towards the harbour, followed by the porter and a knot of chance passers-by. The pursuers swelled into a crowd as he neared the harbour. Besides being long-limbed, Nikel Sling was nimble. He distanced his pursuers easily, and, as we have seen, swam off and reached his ship almost as soon as they gained the end of the wharf. The above narration was made much more abruptly and shortly than we have presented it, for oars were soon heard in the water, and it behoved the poor hunted cook to secrete himself in case they should take a fancy to search the vessel. Just as the boat came within a few yards of the ship he hastily went below. "Boat ahoy!" shouted Tim Rokens; "wot boat's that?" The men lay on their oars. "Have you a madman on board your ship?" inquired the gatekeeper of the hospital, whose wrath at the unceremonious treatment he had received had not yet cooled down. "No," answered Rokens, laying his arms on the bulwarks, and looking down at his questioner with a sly leer; "no, we ha'n't, but you've got a madman aboord that boat." "Who's that?" inquired the warder, who did not at first understand the sarcasm. "Why, yourself, to be sure," replied Rokens, "an' the sooner you takes yourself off, an' comes to an anchor in a loo-natick asylum, the better for all parties consarned." "No, but I'm in earnest, my man--" "_As_ far as that goes," interrupted the imperturbable Rokens, "so am I." "The man," continued the gatekeeper, "has run out of the hospital with a smashed head, I calc'late, stark starin' mad, and gone off the end o' the w'arf into the water--" "You don't mean it!" shouted Rokens, starting with affected surprise. "Now you _are_ a fine fellow, ain't you, to be talkin' here an' wastin' time while a poor feller-mortal is bein' drownded, or has gone and swummed off to sea--p'r'aps without chart, compass, or rudder! Hallo, lads! tumble up there! Man overboard! tumble up, tumble up!" In less than three minutes half-a-dozen men sprang up the hatchway, hauled up the gig which swung astern, tumbled into it, and began to pull wildly about the harbour in search of the drowning man. The shouts and commotion roused the crews of the nearest vessels, and ere long quite a fleet of boats joined in the search. "Wos he a big or a little feller?" inquired Rokens, panting from his exertions, as he swept up to the boat containing the hospital warder, round which several of the other boats began to congregate. "A big fellow, I guess, with legs like steeples. He was sloping when they floored him. A thief, I expect he must ha' bin." "A thief!" echoed Rokens, in disgust; "why didn't ye say, so at first? If he's a thief, he's born to be hanged, so he's safe and snug aboard his ship long ago, I'll be bound. Good-night t'ye, friend, and better luck next time." A loud laugh greeted the ears of the discomfited warder as the crews of the boats dipped their oars in the water and pulled towards, their respective ships. Next morning, about daybreak, little Alice Dunning came on board her father's ship, accompanied by her two aunts, who, for once, became utterly and publicly regardless of appearances and contemptuous of all propriety, as they sobbed on the child's neck and positively refused to be comforted. Just as the sun rose, and edged the horizon with a gleam of liquid fire, the _Red Eric_ spread her sails and stood out to sea. CHAPTER FIVE. DAY DREAMS AND ADVENTURES AMONG THE CLOUDS--A CHASE, A BATTLE, AND A VICTORY. Early morning on the ocean! There is poetry in the idea; there is music in the very sound. As there is nothing new under the sun, probably a song exists with this or a similar title; if not, we now recommend it earnestly to musicians. Ailie Dunning sat on the bulwarks of the _Red Eric_, holding on tightly by the mizzen-shrouds, and gazing in open-eyed, open-mouthed, inexpressible delight upon the bright calm sea. She was far, far out upon the bosom of the Atlantic now. Sea-sickness--which during the first part of the voyage, had changed the warm pink of her pretty face into every imaginable shade of green--was gone, and the hue of health could not now be banished even by the rudest storm. In short, she had become a thorough sailor, and took special delight in turning her face to windward during the wild storm, and drinking-in the howling blast as she held on by the rigid shrouds, and laughed at the dashing spray--for little Ailie was not easily frightened. Martha and Jane Dunning had made it their first care to implant in the heart of their charge a knowledge of our Saviour's love, and especially of His tenderness towards, and watchful care over, the lambs of His flock. Besides this, little Ailie was naturally of a trustful disposition. She had implicit confidence in the strength and wisdom of her father, and it never entered into her imagination to dream that it was possible for any evil to befall the ship which _he_ commanded. But, although Ailie delighted in the storm, she infinitely preferred the tranquil beauty and rest of a "great calm," especially at the hour just before sunrise, when the freshness, brightness, and lightness of the young day harmonised peculiarly with her elastic spirit. It was at this hour that we find her alone upon the bulwarks of the _Red Eric_. There was a deep, solemn stillness around, that irresistibly and powerfully conveyed to her mind the idea of rest. The long, gentle undulation of the deep did not in the least detract from this idea. So perfect was the calm, that several masses of clouds in the sky, which shone with the richest saffron light, were mirrored in all their rich details as if in a glass. The faintest possible idea of a line alone indicated, in one direction, where the water terminated and the sky began. A warm golden haze suffused the whole atmosphere, and softened the intensity of the deep-blue vault above. There was, indeed, little variety of object to gaze upon--only the water and the sky. But what a world of delight did not Ailie find in that vast sky and that pure ocean, that reminded her of the sea of glass before the great white throne, of which she had so often read in Revelation. The towering masses of clouds were so rich and thick, that she almost fancied them to be mountains and valleys, rocks and plains of golden snow. Nay, she looked so long and so ardently at the rolling mountain heights in the sky above, and their magical counterparts in the sky below, that she soon, as it were, _thought herself into_ Fairyland, and began a regular journey of adventures therein. Such a scene at such an hour is a source of gladsome, peaceful delight to the breast of man in every stage of life; but it is a source of unalloyed, bounding, exhilarating, romantic, unspeakable joy only in the years of childhood, when the mind looks hopefully forward, and before it has begun--as, alas! it must begin, sooner or later--to gaze regretfully back. How long Ailie would have sat in motionless delight it is difficult to say. The man at the wheel having nothing to do, had forsaken his post, and was leaning over the stern, either lost in reverie, or in a vain effort to penetrate with his vision the blue abyss to the bottom. The members of the watch on deck were either similarly engaged or had stowed themselves away to sleep in quiet corners among blocks and cordage. No one seemed inclined to move or speak, and she would probably have sat there immovable for hours to come, had not a hand fallen gently on her shoulder, and by the magic of its simple contact scattered the bright dreams of Fairyland as the finger-touch destroys the splendour of the soap-bubble. "Oh! Glynn," exclaimed Ailie, looking round and heaving a deep sigh; "I've been away--far, far away--you can't believe how far." "Away, Ailie! Where have you been?" asked Glynn, patting the child's head as he leaned over the gunwale beside her. "In Fairyland. Up in the clouds yonder. Out and in, and up and down. Oh, you've no idea. Just look." She pointed eagerly to an immense towering cloud that rose like a conspicuous landmark in the centre of the landscape of the airy world above. "Do you see that mountain?" "Yes, Ailie; the one in the middle, you mean, don't you? Yes, well?" "Well," continued the child, eagerly and hurriedly, as if she feared to lose the thread of memory that formed the warp and woof of the delicate fabric she had been engaged in weaving; "well, I began there; I went in behind it, and I met a fairy--not really, you know, but I tried to think I met one, so I began to speak to her, and then I made her speak to me, and her voice was so small and soft and sweet. She had on silver wings, and a star--a bright star in her forehead--and she carried a wand with a star on the top of it too. So I asked her to take me to see her kingdom, and I made her say she would--and, do you know, Glynn, I really felt at last as if she didn't wait for me to tell her what to say, but just went straight on, answering my questions, and putting questions to me in return. Wasn't it funny? "Well, we went on, and on, and on--the fairy and me--up one beautiful mountain of snow and down another, talking all the time so pleasantly, until we came to a great dark cave; so I made up my mind to make a lion come out of it; but the fairy said, `No, let it be a bear;' and immediately a great bear came out. Wasn't it strange? It really seemed as if the fairy had become real, and could do things of her own accord." The child paused at this point, and looking with an expression of awe into her companion's face, said--"Do you think, Glynn, that people can _think_ so hard that fairies _really_ come to them?" Glynn looked perplexed. "No, Ailie, I suspect they can't--not because we can't think hard enough, but because there are no fairies to come." "Oh, I'm _so_ sorry!" replied the child sadly. "Why?" inquired Glynn. "Because I love them _so_ much--of course, I mean the good ones. I don't like the bad ones--though they're very useful, because they're nice to kill, and punish, and make examples of, and all that, when the good ones catch them." "So they are," said the youth, smiling. "I never thought of that before. But go on with your ramble in the clouds." "Well," began Ailie; "but where was I?" "Just going to be introduced to a bear." "Oh yes; well--the bear walked slowly away, and then the fairy called out an elephant, and after that a 'noceros--" "A 'noceros!" interrupted Glynn; "what's that?" "Oh, you know very well. A beast with a thick skin hanging in folds, and a horn on its nose--" "Ah, a _rhi_noceros--I see. Well, go on, Ailie." "Then the fairy told a camel to appear, and after that a monkey, and then a hippopotamus, and they all came out one after another, and some of them went away, and others began to fight. But the strangest thing of all was, that every one of them was _so_ like the pictures of wild beasts that are hanging in my room at home! The elephant, too, I noticed, had his trunk broken exactly the same way as my toy elephant's one was. Wasn't it odd?" "It was rather odd," replied Glynn; "but where did you go after that?" "Oh, then we went on, and on again, until we came to--" "It's your turn at the wheel, lad, ain't it?" inquired Mr Millons, coming up at that moment, and putting an abrupt termination to the walk in Fairyland. "It is, sir," answered Glynn, springing quickly to the wheel, and relieving the man who had been engaged in penetrating the ocean's depths. The mate walked forward; the released sailor went below, and Ailie was again left to her solitary meditations;--for she was enough of a sailor now, in heart, to know that she ought not to talk too much to the steersman, even though the weather should be calm and there was no call for his undivided attention to the duties of his post. While Nature was thus, as it were, asleep, and the watch on deck were more than half in the same condition, there was one individual in the ship whose faculties were in active play, whose "steam," as he himself would have remarked, "was up." This was the worthy cook, Nikel Sling, whose duties called him to his post at the galley-fire at an early hour each day. We have often thought that a cook's life must be one of constant self-denial and exasperation of spirit. Besides the innumerable anxieties in reference to such important matters as boiling over and over-boiling, being done to a turn, or over-done, or singed or burned, or capsized, he has the diurnal misery of being the first human being in his little circle of life, to turn out of a morning, and must therefore experience the discomfort--the peculiar discomfort--of finding things as _they were left_ the night before. Any one who does not know what that discomfort is, has only to rise an hour before the servants of a household, whether at sea or on shore, to find out. Cook, too, has generally, if not always, to light the fire; and that, especially in frosty weather, is not agreeable. Moreover, cook roasts _himself_ to such an extent, and at meal-times, in nine cases out of ten, gets into such physical and mental perturbation, that he cannot possibly appreciate the luxuries he has been occupied all the day in concocting. Add to this, that he spends all the morning in preparing breakfast; all the forenoon in preparing dinner; all the afternoon in preparing tea and supper, and all the evening in clearing up, and perhaps all the night in dreaming of the meals of the following day, and mentally preparing breakfast, and we think that we have clearly proved the truth of the proposition with which we started--namely, that a cook's life must be one of constant self-denial and exasperation of spirit. But this is by the way, and was merely suggested by the fact that, while all other creatures were enjoying either partial or complete repose, Nikel Sling was washing out pots and pans and kettles, and handling murderous-looking knives and two-pronged tormentors with a demoniacal activity that was quite appalling. Beside him, on a little stool close to the galley-fire, sat Tim Rokens-- not that Mr Rokens was cold--far from it. He was, to judge from appearances, much hotter than was agreeable. But Tim had come there and sat down to light his pipe, and being rather phlegmatic when not actively employed, he preferred to be partially roasted for a few minutes to getting up again. "We ought," remarked Tim Rokens, puffing at a little black pipe which seemed inclined to be obstinate, "we ought to be gittin' among the fish by this time. Many's the one I've seed in them 'ere seas." "I rather guess we should," replied the cook, pausing the midst of his toils and wiping the perspiration from his forehead with an immense bundle of greasy oakum. "But I've seed us keep dodgin' about for weeks, I have, later in the year than this, without clappin' eyes on a fin. What sort o' baccy d'ye smoke, Rokens?" "Dun know. Got it from a Spanish smuggler for an old clasp-knife. Why?" "Cause it smells like rotten straw, an' won't improve the victuals. Guess you'd better take yourself off, old chap." "Wot a cross-grained crittur ye are," said Rokens, as he rose to depart. At that moment there was heard a cry that sent the blood tingling to the extremities of every one on board the _Red Eric_. "Thar she blows! thar she blows!" shouted the man in the crow's-nest. The crow's-nest is a sort of cask, or nest, fixed at the top of the mainmast of whale-ships, in which a man is stationed all day during the time the ships are on the fishing-ground, to look out for whales; and the cry, "Thar she blows," announced the fact that the look-out had observed a whale rise to the surface and blow a spout of steamy water into the air. No conceivable event--unless perhaps the blowing-up of the ship itself-- could have more effectually and instantaneously dissipated the deep tranquillity to which we have more than once referred. Had an electric shock been communicated through the ship to each individual, the crew could not have been made to leap more vigorously and simultaneously. Many days before, they had begun to expect to see whales. Every one was therefore on the _qui vive_, so that when the well-known signal rang out like a startling peal in the midst of the universal stillness, every heart in the ship leaped in unison. Had an observant man been seated at the time in the forecastle, he would have noticed that from out of the ten or fifteen hammocks that swung from the beams, there suddenly darted ten or fifteen pairs of legs which rose to the perpendicular position in order to obtain leverage to "fetch way." Instantly thereafter the said legs descended, and where the feet had been, ten or fifteen heads appeared. Next moment the men were "tumbling up" the fore-hatch to the deck, where the watch had already sprung to the boat-tackles. "Where away?" sang out Captain Dunning who was among the first on deck. "Off the weather bow, sir, three points." "How far?" "About two miles. Thar she blows!" "Call all hands," shouted the captain. "Starboard watch, ahoy!" roared the mate, in that curious hoarse voice peculiar to boatswains of men-of-war. "Tumble up, lads, tumble up! Whale in sight! Bear a hand, my hearties!" The summons was almost unnecessary. The "starboard watch" was--with the exception of one or two uncommonly heavy sleepers--already on deck pulling on its ducks and buckling its belts. "Thar she breaches, thar she blows!" again came from the crow's-nest in the voice of a Stentor. "Well done, Dick Barnes, you're the first to raise the oil," remarked one of the men, implying by the remark that the said Dick was fortunate enough to be the first to sight a whale. "Where away now?" roared the captain, who was in a state of intense excitement. "A mile an' a half to leeward, sir." "Clear away the boats," shouted the captain. "Masthead, ahoy! D'ye see that whale now?" "Ay, ay, sir. Thar she blows!" "Bear a hand, my hearties," cried the captain, as the men sprang to the boats which were swinging at the davits. "Get your tubs in! Clear your falls! Look alive, lads! Stand-by to lower! All ready?" "All ready, sir." "Thar she blows!" came again from the masthead with redoubled energy. "Sperm-whales, sir; there's a school of 'em." "A _school_ of them!" whispered Ailie, who had left her post at the mizzen-shrouds, and now stood by her father's side, looking on at the sudden hubbub in unspeakable amazement. "Do whales go to school?" she said, laughing. "Out of the road, Ailie, my pet," cried her father hastily. "You'll get knocked over. Lower away, lads, lower away!" Down went the starboard, larboard, and waist-boats as if the falls had been cut, and almost before you could wink the men literally tumbled over the side into them, took their places, and seized their oars. "Here, Glynn, come with me, and I'll show you a thing or two," said the captain. "Jump in, lad; look sharp." Glynn instantly followed his commander into the starboard boat, and took the aft oar. Tim Rokens, being the harpooner of that boat, sat at the bow oar with his harpoons and lances beside him, and the whale-line coiled in a tub in the boat's head. The captain steered. And now commenced a race that taxed the boats' crews to the utmost; for it is always a matter keenly contested by the different crews, who shall fix the first harpoon in the whale. The larboard boat was steered by Mr Millons, the first mate; the waist-boat by Mr Markham, the second mate--the latter an active man of about five-and-twenty, whose size and physical strength were herculean, and whose disposition was somewhat morose and gloomy. "Now, lads, give way! That's it! that's the way. Bend your backs, now! _do_ bend your backs," cried the captain, as the three boats sprang from the ship's side and made towards the nearest whale, with the white foam curling at their bow. Several more whales appeared in sight spouting in all directions, and the men were wild with excitement. "That's it! Go it lads!" shouted Mr Millons, as the waist-boat began to creep ahead. "Lay it on! give way! What d'ye say, boys; shall we beat 'em?" Captain Dunning stood in the stern-sheets of the starboard boat, almost dancing with excitement as he heard these words of encouragement. "Give way, boys!" he cried. "They can't do it! That whale's ours--so it is. Only bend your backs! A steady pull! Pull like steam-tugs! That's it! Bend the oars! Double 'em up! Smash 'em in bits, _do_!" Without quite going the length of the captain's last piece of advice, the men did their work nobly. They bent their strong backs with a will, and strained their sinewy arms to the utmost. Glynn, in particular, to whom the work was new, and therefore peculiarly exciting and interesting, almost tore the rowlocks out of the boat in his efforts to urge it on, and had the oar not been made of the toughest ash, there is no doubt that he would have obeyed the captain's orders literally and have smashed it in bits. On they flew like racehorses. Now one boat gained an inch on the others, then it lost ground again as the crew of another put forth additional energy, and the three danced over the glassy sea as if the inanimate planks had been suddenly endued with life, and inspired with the spirit that stirred the men. A large sperm-whale lay about a quarter of a mile ahead, rolling lazily in the trough of the sea. Towards this the starboard boat now pulled with incredible speed, leaving the other two gradually astern. A number of whales rose in various directions. They had got into the midst of a shoal, or school of them, as the whale-men term it; and as several of these were nearer the other boats than the first whale was, they diverged towards them. "There go flukes," cried Rokens, as the whale raised its huge tail in the air and "sounded"--in other words, dived. For a few minutes the men lay on their oars, uncertain in what direction the whale would come up again; but their doubts were speedily removed by its rising within a few yards of the boat. "Now, Rokens," cried the captain; "now for it; give him the iron. Give way, lads; spring, boys. Softly now, softly." In another instant the boat's bow was on the whale's head, and Rokens buried a harpoon deep in its side. "Stern all!" thundered the captain. The men obeyed, and the boat was backed off the whale just in time to escape the blow of its tremendous flukes as it dived into the sea, the blue depths of which were instantly dyed red with the blood that flowed in torrents from the wound. Down it went, carrying out the line at a rate that caused the chocks through which it passed to smoke. In a few minutes the line ceased to run out, and the whale returned to the surface. It had scarcely showed its nose, when the slack of the line was hauled in, and a second harpoon was fixed in its body. Infuriated with pain, the mighty fish gave vent to a roar like a bull, rolled half over, and lashed the sea with his flukes, till, all round for many yards, it was churned into red slimy foam. Then he turned round, and dashed off with the speed of a locomotive engine, tearing the boat through the waves behind it, the water curling up like a white wall round the bows. "She won't stand that long," muttered Glynn Proctor, as he rested on his oar, and looked over his shoulder at the straining line. "That she will, boy," said the captain; "and more than that, if need be. You'll not be long of havin' a chance of greasin' your fingers, I'll warrant." In a few minutes the speed began to slacken, and after a time they were able to haul in on the line. When the whale again came to the surface, a third harpoon was cleverly struck into it, and a spout of blood from its blow-hole showed that it was mortally wounded. In throwing the harpoon, Tim Rokens slipped his foot, and went down like a stone head-foremost into the sea. He came up again like a cork, and just as the boat flew past fortunately caught hold of Glynn Proctor's hand. It was well that the grasp was a firm one, for the strain on their two arms was awful. In another minute Tim was in his place, ready with his lance to finish off the whale at its next rise. Up it came again, foaming, breaching, and plunging from wave to wave, flinging torrents of blood and spray into the air. At one moment he reared his blunt gigantic head high above the sea; the next he buried his vast and quivering carcase deep in the gory brine, carrying down with him a perfect whirlpool of red foam. Then he rose again and made straight for the boat. Had he known his own power, he might have soon terminated the battle, and come off the victor, but fortunately he did not. Tim Rokens received his blunt nose on the point of his lance, and drove him back with mingled fury and terror. Another advance was made, and a successful lance-thrust delivered. "That's into his life," cried the captain. "So it is," replied Rokens. And so it was. A vital part had been struck. For some minutes the huge leviathan lashed and rolled and tossed in the trembling waves in his agony, while he spouted up gallons of blood with every throe; then he rolled over on his back, and lay extended a lifeless mass upon the waters. "Now, lads; three cheers for our first whale. Hip! hip! hip!--" The cheer that followed was given with all the energy and gusto inspired by a first victory, and it was repeated again and again, and over again, before the men felt themselves sufficiently relieved to commence the somewhat severe and tedious labour of towing the carcase to the ship. It was a hard pull, for the whale had led them a long chase, and as the calm continued, those left aboard could not approach to meet the boats. The exhausted men were cheered, however, on getting aboard late that night, to find that the other boats had been equally successful, each of them having captured a sperm-whale. CHAPTER SIX. DISAGREEABLE CHANGES--SAGACIOUS CONVERSATIONS, AND A TERRIBLE ACCIDENT. A striking and by no means a pleasant change took place in the general appearance of the _Red Eric_ immediately after the successful chase detailed in the last chapter. Before the arrival of the whales the decks had been beautifully clean and white, for Captain Dunning was proud of his ship, and fond of cleanliness and order. A few hours after the said arrival the decks were smeared with grease, oil, and blood, and everything from stem to stern became from that day filthy and dirty. This was a sad change to poor Ailie, who had not imagined it possible that so sudden and disagreeable an alteration could take place. But there was no help for it; the duties of the fishery in which they were engaged required that the whales should not only be caught, but cut up, boiled down to oil, and stowed away in the hold in casks. If the scene was changed for the worse a few hours after the cutting-up operations were begun, it became infinitely more so when the _try-works_ were set going, and the melting-fires were lighted, and huge volumes of smoke begrimed the masts, and sails, and rigging. It was vain to think of clearing up; had they attempted that, the men would have been over-tasked without any good being accomplished. There was only one course open to those who didn't like it, and that was--to "grin and bear it." "Cutting out" and "trying in" are the terms used by whale-men to denote the processes of cutting off the flesh or "blubber" from the whale's carcase, and reducing it to oil. At an early hour on the following morning the first of these operations was commenced. Ailie went about the decks, looking on with mingled wonder, interest, and disgust. She stepped about gingerly, as if afraid of coming in contact with slimy objects, and with her nose and mouth screwed up after the fashion of those who are obliged to endure bad smells. The expression of her face under the circumstances was amusing. As for the men, they went about their work with relish, and total indifference as to consequences. When the largest whale had been hauled alongside, ropes were attached to his head and tail, and the former was secured near the stern of the ship, while the latter was lashed to the bow; the cutting-tackle was then attached. This consisted of an arrangement of pulleys depending from the main-top, with a large blubber-hook at the end thereof. The cutting was commenced at the neck, and the hook attached; then the men hove on the windlass, and while the cutting was continued in a spiral direction round the whale's body, the tackle raised the mass of flesh until it reached the fixed blocks above. This mass, when it could be hauled up no higher, was then cut off, and stowed away under the name of a "blanket-piece." It weighed upwards of a ton. The hook being lowered and again attached, the process was continued until the whole was cut off. Afterwards, the head was severed from the body and hoisted on board, in order that the oil contained in the hollow of it might be baled out. From the head of the first whale ten barrels of oil were obtained. The blubber yielded about eighty barrels. When the "cutting out" was completed, and the remnants of bone and flesh were left to the sharks which swarmed round the vessel, revelling in their unusually rich banquet, the process of "trying in" commenced. "Trying in" is the term applied to the melting of the fat and the stowing of it away in barrels in the form of oil; and an uncommonly dirty process it is. The large "blanket-pieces" were cut into smaller portions, and put into the try-pots, which were kept in constant operation. At night the ship had all the appearance of a vessel on fire, and the scene on deck was particularly striking and unearthly. One night several of the men were grouped on and around the windlass, chatting, singing, and "spinning yarns." Ailie Dunning stood near them, lost in wonder and admiration; for the ears and eyes of the child were assailed in a manner never before experienced or dreamed of even in the most romantic mood of cloud-wandering. It was a very dark night, darker than usual, and not a breath of wind ruffled the sea, which was like a sheet of undulating glass--for, be it remembered, there is no such thing at any time as absolute stillness in the ocean. At all times, even in the profoundest calm, the long, slow, gentle swell rises and sinks with unceasing regularity, like the bosom of a man in deep slumber. Dense clouds of black smoke and occasional lurid sheets of flame rose from the try-works, which were situated between the foremast and the main-hatch. The tops of the masts were lost in the curling smoke, and the black waves of the sea gleamed and flashed in the red light all round the ship. One man stood in front of the melting-pot, pitching in pieces of blubber with a two-pronged pitchfork. Two comrades stood by the pots, stirring up their contents, and throwing their figures into wild uncouth attitudes, while the fire glared in their greasy faces, and converted the front of their entire persons into deep vermilion. The oil was hissing in the try-pots; the rough weather-beaten faces of the men on the windlass were smeared, and their dirty-white ducks saturated, with oil. The decks were blood-stained; huge masses of flesh and blubber lay scattered about; sparks flew upwards in splendid showers as the men raked up the fires; the decks, bulwarks, railings, try-works, and windlass were covered with oil and slime, and glistening in the red glare. It was a terrible, murderous-looking scene, and filled Ailie's mind with mingled feelings of wonder, disgust, and awe, as she leaned on a comparatively clean spot near the foremast, listening to the men and gazing at the rolling smoke and flames. "Ain't it beautiful?" said a short, fat little seaman named Gurney, who sat swinging his legs on the end of the windlass, and pointed, as he spoke, with the head of his pipe to a more than usually brilliant burst of sparks and flame that issued that moment from the works. "Beautiful!" exclaimed a long-limbed, shambling fellow named Jim Scroggles, "why, that ain't the word at all. Now, I calls it splendiferous." Scroggles looked round at his comrades, as if to appeal to their judgment as to the fitness of the word, but not receiving any encouragement, he thrust down the glowing tobacco in his pipe with the end of his little finger, and reiterated the word "splendiferous" with marked emphasis. "Did ye ever see that word in Johnson?" inquired Gurney. "Who's Johnson?" said Scroggles, contemptuously. "Wot, don't ye know who Johnson is?" cried Gurney, in surprise. "In course I don't; how should I?" retorted Scroggles. "There's ever so many Johnsons in the world; which on 'em all do you mean?" "Why, I mean Johnson wot wrote the diksh'nary--the great lexikragofer." "Oh, it's _him_ you mean, is it? In course I've knowed him ever since I wos at school." A general laugh interrupted the speaker. "At school!" cried Nickel Sling, who approached the group at that moment with a carving knife in his hand--he seldom went anywhere without an instrument of office in his hand--"At school! Wal now, that beats creation. If ye wos, I'm sartin ye only larned to forgit all ye orter to have remembered. I'd take a bet now, ye wosn't at school as long as I've been settin' on this here windlass." "Yer about right, Sling, it 'ud be unpossible for me to be as _long_ as you anywhere, 'cause everybody knows I'm only five fut two, whereas you're six fut four!" "Hear, hear!" shouted Dick Barnes--a man with a huge black beard, who the reader may perhaps remember was the first to "raise the oil." "It'll be long before you make another joke like that, Gurney. Come, now, give us a song, Gurney, do; there's the cap'n's darter standin' by the foremast, a-waitin' to hear ye. Give us `Long, long ago.'" "Ah! that's it, give us a song," cried the men. "Come, there's a good fellow." "Well, it's so long ago since I sung that song, shipmates," replied Gurney, "that I've bin and forgot it; but Tim Rokens knows it; where's Rokens?" "He's in the watch below." In sea parlance, the men whose turn it is to take rest after their long watch on deck are somewhat facetiously said to belong to the "watch below." "Ah! that's a pity; so we can't have that 'ere partickler song. But I'll give ye another, if ye don't object." "No, no. All right; go ahead, Gurney! Is there a chorus to it?" "Ay, in course there is. Wot's a song without a chorus? Wot's plum-duff without the plums? Wot's a ship without a 'elm? It's my opinion, shipmates, that a song without a chorus is no better than it should be. It's wus nor nothin'. It puts them wot listens in the blues an' the man wot sings into the stews--an' sarve him right. I wouldn't, no, I wouldn't give the fag-end o' nothin' mixed in bucket o' salt water for a song without a chorus--that's flat; so here goes." Having delivered himself of these opinions in an extremely vigorous manner, and announced the fact that he was about to begin, Gurney cleared his throat and drew a number of violent puffs from his pipe in quick succession, in order to kindle that instrument into a glow which would last through the first verse and the commencement of the chorus. This he knew was sufficient, for the men, when once fairly started on the chorus, would infallibly go on to the end with or without his assistance, and would therefore afford him time for a few restorative whiffs. "It hain't got no name, lads." "Never mind, Gurney--all right--fire away." "Oh, I once know'd a man as hadn't got a nose, An' this is how he come to hadn't-- One cold winter night he went and got it froze-- By the pain he was well-nigh madden'd. (_Chorus_.) Well-nigh madden'd, By the pain he was well-nigh madden'd. "Next day it swoll up as big as my head, An' it turn'd like a piece of putty; It kivered up his mouth, oh, yes, so it did, So he could not smoke his cutty. (_Chorus_.) Smoke his cutty, So he could not smoke his cutty. "Next day it grew black, and the next day blue, An' tough as a junk of leather; (Oh! he yelled, so he did, fit to pierce ye through)-- An' then it fell off altogether! (_Chorus_.) Fell off altogether, An' then it fell off altogether! "But the morial is wot you've now got to hear, An' it's good--as sure as a gun; An' you'll never forget it, my messmates dear, For this song it hain't got none! (_Chorus_.) Hain't got none, For this song it hain't got none!" The applause that followed this song was most enthusiastic, and evidently gratifying to Gurney, who assumed a modest deprecatory air as he proceeded to light his pipe, which had been allowed to go out at the third verse, the performer having become so engrossed in his subject as to have forgotten the interlude of puffs at that point. "Well sung, Gurney. Who made it?" inquired Phil Briant, an Irishman, who, besides being a jack-of-all-trades and an able-bodied seaman, was at that time acting-assistant to the cook and steward, the latter--a half Spaniard and half negro, of Californian extraction--being unwell. "I'm bound not to tell," replied Gurney, with a conscious air. "Ah, then, yer right, my boy, for it's below the average entirely." "Come, Phil, none o' yer chaff," cried Dick Barnes, "that song desarves somethin' arter it. Suppose now, Phil, that you wos to go below and fetch the bread-kid." "Couldn't do it," replied Phil, looking solemn, "on no account wotiver." "Oh, nonsense, why not?" "'Cause its unpossible. Why, if I did, sure that surly compound o' all sorts o' human blood would pitch into me with the carvin'-knife." "Who? Tarquin?" cried Dick Barnes, naming the steward. "Ay, sure enough that same--Tarquin's his name, an it's kuriously befittin' the haythen, for of all the cross-grained mixtures o' buffalo, bear, bandicoot, and crackadile I iver seed, he's out o' sight--" "Did I hear any one mention my name?" inquired the steward himself who came aft at that moment. He was a wild Spanish-like fellow, with a handsome-enough figure, and a swart countenance that might have been good-looking but for the thickish lips and nose and the bad temper that marked it. Since getting into the tropics, the sailors had modified their costumes considerably, and as each man had in some particular allowed himself a slight play of fancy, their appearance, when grouped together, was varied and picturesque. Most of them wore no shoes, and the caps of some were, to say the least, peculiar. Tarquin wore a broad-brimmed straw hat, with a conical crown, and a red silk sash tied round his waist. "Yes, Tarquin," replied Barnes, "we _wos_ engaged in makin' free-an'-easy remarks on you; and Phil Briant there gave us to understand that you wouldn't let us have the bread--kid up. Now, it's my opinion you ain't goin' to be so hard on us as that; you will let us have it up to comfort our hearts on this fine night, won't you?" The steward, whose green visage showed that he was too ill to enter into a dispute at that time, turned on his heel and walked aft, remarking that they might eat the bottom out o' the ship, for all he cared. "There now, you misbemannered Patlander, go and get it, or we'll throw you overboard," cried Scroggles, twisting his long limbs awkwardly as he shifted his position on the windlass. "Now, then, shipmates, don't go for to ax it," said Briant, remaining immovable. "Don't I know wot's best for ye? Let me spaake to ye now. Did any of ye iver study midsin?" "No!" cried several with a laugh. "Sure I thought not," continued Phil, with a patronising air, "or ye'd niver ask for the bread--kid out o' saisin. Now I was in the medical way meself wance--ay, ye may laugh, but it's thrue--I wos 'prentice to a 'pothecary, an' I've mixed up more midsins than would pisen the whole popilation of owld Ireland--barrin' the praists, av coorse. And didn't I hear the convarse o' all the doctors in the place? And wasn't the word always--`Be rigglar with yer mails--don't ait, avic, more nor three times a day, and not too much, now. Be sparin'.'" "Hah! ye long-winded grampus," interrupted Dick Barnes, impatiently. "An' warn't the doctors right? Three times a day for sick folk, and six times--or more--for them wot's well." "Hear, hear!" cried the others, while two of them seized Briant by the neck, and thrust him forcibly towards the after-hatch. "Bring up the kid, now; an' if ye come without it, look out for squalls." "Och! worse luck," sighed the misused assistant, as he disappeared. In a few minutes Phil returned with the kid, which was a species of tray filled with broken sea-biscuit, which, when afloat, goes by the name of "bread." This was eagerly seized, for the appetites of sailors are always sharp, except immediately after meals. A quantity of the broken biscuit was put into a strainer, and fried in whale-oil, and the men sat round the kid to enjoy their luxurious feast, and relate their adventures--all of which were more or less marvellous, and many of them undoubtedly true. The more one travels in this world of ours, and the more one reads of the adventures of travellers upon whose narratives we can place implicit confidence, the more we find that men do not now require, as they did of old, to draw upon their imaginations for marvellous tales of wild, romantic adventure, in days gone by, travellers were few; foreign lands were almost unknown. Not many books were written; and of the few that were, very few were believed. In the present day men of undoubted truthfulness have roamed far and wide over the whole world, their books are numbered by hundreds, and much that was related by ancient travellers, but not believed, has now been fully corroborated. More than that, it is now known that men have every where received, as true, statements which modern discovery has proved to be false, and on the other hand they have often refused to believe what is now ascertained to be literally true. We would suggest, in passing, that a lesson might be learned from this fact--namely, that we ought to receive a statement in regard to a foreign land, not according to the probability or the improbability of the statement itself, but according to the credibility of him who makes it. Ailie Dunning had a trustful disposition; she acted on neither of the above principles. She believed all she heard, poor thing, and therefore had a head pretty well stored with mingled fact and nonsense. While the men were engaged with their meal, Dr Hopley came on deck and found her leaning over the stern, looking down at the waves which shone with sparkling phosphorescent light. An almost imperceptible breeze had sprung up, and the way made by the vessel as she passed through the water was indicated by a stream of what appeared lambent blue flame. "Looking at the fish, Ailie, as usual?" said the doctor as he came up. "What are they saying to you to-night?" "I'm not looking at the fish," answered Ailie; "I'm looking at the fire--no, not the fire; papa said it wasn't fire, but it's so like it, I can scarcely call it anything else. What _is_ it, doctor?" "It is called phosphorescence," replied the doctor, leaning over the bulwarks, and looking down at the fiery serpent that seemed as if it clung to the ship's rudder. "But I dare say you don't know what that means. You know what fire-flies and glow-worms are?" "Oh! yes; I've often caught them." "Well, there are immense numbers of very small and very thin jelly-like creatures in the sea, so thin and so transparent that they can scarcely be observed in the water. These Medusae, as they are called, possess the power of emitting light similar to that of the fire-fly. In short, Ailie, they are the fire-flies and glow-worms of the ocean." The child listened with wonder, and for some minutes remained silent. Before she could again speak, there occurred one of those incidents which are generally spoken of as "most unexpected" and sudden, but which, nevertheless, are the result of natural causes, and might have been prevented by means of a little care. The wind, as we have said, was light, so light that it did not distend the sails; the boom of the spanker-sail hung over the stern, and the spanker-braces lay slack along the seat on which Ailie and the doctor knelt. A little gust of wind came: it was not strong--a mere puff; but the man at the wheel was not attending to his duty: the puff, light as it was, caused the spanker to jibe--that is to fly over from one side of the ship to the other--the heavy boom passed close over the steersman's head as he cried, "Look out!" The braces tautened, and in so doing they hurled Dr Hopley violently to the deck, and tossed Ailie Dunning over the bulwarks into the sea. It happened at that moment that Glynn Proctor chanced to step on deck. "Hallo! what's wrong?" cried the youth, springing forward, catching the doctor by the coat, as he was about to spring overboard, and pulling him violently back, under the impression that he was deranged. The doctor pointed to the sea, and, with a look of horror, gasped the word "Ailie." In an instant Glynn released his hold, plunged over the stern of the ship, and disappeared in the waves. CHAPTER SEVEN. THE RESCUE--PREPARATIONS FOR A STORM. It is impossible to convey by means of words an adequate idea of the terrible excitement and uproar that ensued on board the _Red Eric_ after the events narrated in the last chapter. From those on deck who witnessed the accident there arose a cry so sharp, that it brought the whole crew from below in an instant. But there was no confusion. The men were well trained. Each individual knew his post, and whale-men are accustomed to a sudden and hasty summons. The peculiarity of the present one, it is true, told every man in an instant that something was wrong, but each mechanically sprang to his post, while one or two shouted to ascertain what had happened, or to explain. But the moment Captain Dunning's voice was heard there was perfect silence. "Clear away the starboard-quarter-boat," he cried, in a deep, firm tone. "Ay, ay, sir." "Stand-by the falls--lower away!" There was no occasion to urge the sailors; they sprang to the work with the fervid celerity of men who knew that life or death depended on their speed. In less time than it takes to relate, the boat was leaping over the long ocean swell, as it had never yet done in chase of the whale, and, in a few seconds, passed out of the little circle of light caused by the fires and into the gloom that surrounded the ship. The wind had been gradually increasing during all these proceedings, and although no time had been lost, and the vessel had been immediately brought up into the wind, Ailie and Glynn were left struggling in the dark sea a long way behind ere the quarter-boat could be lowered; and now that it was fairly afloat, there was still the danger of its failing to hit the right direction of the objects of which it was in search. After leaping over the stern, Glynn Proctor, the moment he rose to the surface, gave a quick glance at the ship, to make sure of her exact position, and then struck out in a straight line astern, for he knew that wherever Ailie fell, there she would remain struggling until she sank. Glynn was a fast and powerful swimmer. He struck out with desperate energy, and in a few minutes the ship was out of sight behind him. Then he paused suddenly, and letting his feet sink until he attained an upright position, trod the water and raised himself breast-high above the surface, at the same time listening intently, for he began to fear that he might have overshot his mark. No sound met his straining ear save the sighing of the breeze and the ripple of the water as it lapped against his chest. It was too dark to see more than a few yards in any direction. Glynn knew that each moment lost rendered his chance of saving the child terribly slight. He shouted "Ailie!" in a loud, agonising cry, and swam forward again with redoubled energy, continuing the cry from time to time, and raising himself occasionally to look round him. The excitement of his mind, and the intensity with which it was bent on the one great object, rendered him at first almost unobservant of the flight of time. But suddenly the thought burst upon him that fully ten minutes or a quarter of an hour had elapsed since Ailie fell overboard, and that no one who could not swim could exist for half that time in deep water. He shrieked with agony at the thought, and, fancying that he must have passed the child, he turned round and swam desperately towards the point where he supposed the ship lay. Then he thought, "What if I have turned just as I was coming up with her?" So he turned about again, but as the hopelessness of his efforts once more occurred to him, he lost all presence of mind, and began to shout furiously, and to strike out wildly in all directions. In the midst of his mad struggles his hand struck an object floating near him. Instantly he felt his arm convulsively grasped, and the next moment he was seized round the neck in a gripe so violent that it almost choked him. He sank at once, and the instinct of self-preservation restored his presence of mind. With a powerful effort he tore Ailie from her grasp, and quickly raised himself to the surface, where he swam gently with his left hand, and held the struggling child at arm's-length with his right. The joy caused by the knowledge that she had still life to struggle infused new energy into Glynn's well-nigh exhausted frame, and he assumed as calm and cheerful a tone as was possible under the circumstances when he exclaimed--"Ailie, Ailie, don't struggle, dear, I'll save you _if you keep quiet_." Ailie was quiet in a moment. She felt in the terror of her young heart an almost irresistible desire to clutch at Glynn's neck; but the well-known voice reassured her, and her natural tendency to place blind, implicit confidence in others, served her in this hour of need, for she obeyed his injunctions at once. "Now, dear," said Glynn, with nervous rapidity, "don't grasp me, else we shall sink. Trust me. _I'll never let you go_. Will you trust me?" Ailie gazed wildly at her deliverer through her wet and tangled tresses, and with great difficulty gasped the word "Yes," while she clenched the garments on her labouring bosom with her little hands, as if to show her determination to do as she was bid. Glynn at once drew her towards him and rested her head on his shoulder. The child gave vent to a deep, broken sigh of relief, and threw her right arm round his neck, but the single word "Ailie," uttered in a remonstrative tone, caused her to draw it quickly back and again grasp her breast. All this time Glynn had been supporting himself by that process well-known to swimmers as "treading water," and had been so intent upon his purpose of securing the child, that he failed to observe the light of a lantern gleaming in the far distance on the sea, as the boat went ploughing hither and thither, the men almost breaking the oars in their desperate haste, and the captain standing in the stern-sheets, pale as death, holding the light high over his head, and gazing with a look of unutterable agony into the surrounding gloom. Glynn now saw the distant light, and exerting his voice to the utmost, gave vent to a prolonged cry. Ailie looked up in her companion's face while he listened intently. The moving light became stationary for a moment, and a faint reply floated back to them over the waves. Again Glynn raised his voice to the utmost, and the cheer that came back told him that he had been heard. But the very feeling of relief at the prospect of immediate deliverance had well-nigh proved fatal to them both; for Glynn experienced a sudden relaxation of his whole system, and he felt as if he could not support himself and his burden a minute longer. "Ailie," he said faintly but quickly, "we shall be saved if you obey at _once_; if not, we shall be drowned. Lay your two hands on my breast, and let yourself sink _down to the very lips_." Glynn turned on his back as he spoke, spread out his arms and legs to their full extent, let his head fall back, until it sank, leaving only his lips, nose, and chin above water, and lay as motionless as if he had been dead. And now came poor Ailie's severest trial. When she allowed herself to sink, and felt the water rising about her ears, and lipping round her mouth, terror again seized upon her; but she felt Glynn's breast heaving under her hands, so she raised her eyes to heaven and prayed silently to Him who is the only true deliverer from dangers. Her self-possession was restored, and soon she observed the boat bearing down on the spot, and heard the men as they shouted to attract attention. Ailie tried to reply, but her tiny voice was gone, and her soul was filled with horror as she saw the boat about to pass on. In her agony she began to struggle. This roused Glynn, who had rested sufficiently to have recovered a slight degree of strength. He immediately raised his head, and uttered a wild cry as he grasped Ailie again with his arm. The rowers paused; the light of the lantern gleamed over the sea, and fell upon the spray tossed up by Glynn. Next moment the boat swept up to them--and they were saved. The scene that followed baffles all description. Captain Dunning fell on his knees beside Ailie, who was too much exhausted to speak, and thanked God, in the name of Jesus Christ, again and again for her deliverance. A few of the men shouted; others laughed hysterically; and some wept freely as they crowded round their shipmate, who, although able to sit up, could not speak except in disjointed sentences. Glynn, however, recovered quickly, and even tried to warm himself by pulling an oar before they regained the ship, but Ailie remained in a state of partial stupor, and was finally carried on board and down into the cabin, and put between warm blankets by her father and Dr Hopley. Meanwhile, Glynn was hurried forward, and dragged down into the forecastle by the whole crew, who seemed unable to contain themselves for joy, and expressed their feelings in ways that would have been deemed rather absurd on ordinary occasions. "Change yer clo's, avic, at wance," cried Phil Briant, who was the most officious and violent in his offers of assistance to Glynn. "Och! but it's wet ye are, darlin'. Give me a howld." This last request had reference to the right leg of Glynn's trousers, which happened to be blue cloth of a rather thin quality, and which therefore clung to his limbs with such tenacity that it was a matter of the utmost difficulty to get them off. "That's your sort, Phil--a long pull, and a strong pull, and a pull all together," cried Dick Barnes, hurrying forward, with a bundle of garments in his arms. "Here's dry clo's for him." "Have a care, Phil," shouted Gurney, who stood behind Glynn and held him by the shoulders; "it'll give way." "Niver a taste," replied the reckless Irishman. But the result proved that Gurney was right, for the words had scarce escaped his lips when the garment parted at the knee, and Phil Briant went crashing back among a heap of tin pannikins, pewter plates, blocks, and cordage. A burst of laughter followed, of course, but the men's spirits were too much roused to be satisfied with this, so they converted the laugh into a howl, and prolonged it into a cheer; as if their comrade had successfully performed a difficult and praiseworthy deed. "Hold on, lads," cried Glynn. "I'm used up, I can't stand it." "Here you are," shouted Nickel Sling, pushing the men violently aside, and holding a steaming tumbler of hot brandy-and-water under Glynn's nose. "Down with it; that's the stuff to get up the steam fit to bust yer biler, I calc'late." The men looked on for a moment in silence, while Glynn drank, as if they expected some remarkable chemical change to take place in his constitution. "Och! ain't it swate?" inquired Phil Briant, who, having gathered himself up, now stood rubbing his shoulder with the fragment of the riven garment. "Av I wasn't a taytotaler, it's meself would like some of that same." In a few minutes our hero was divested of his wet garments, rubbed perfectly dry by his kind messmates, and clad in dry costume, after which he felt almost as well as if nothing unusual had happened to him. The men meanwhile cut their jokes at him or at each other as they stood round and watched, assisted, or retarded the process. As for Tim Rokens, who had been in the boat and witnessed the rescue, he stood gazing steadfastly at Glynn without uttering a word, keeping his thumbs the while hooked in the arm-holes of his vest, and his legs very much apart. By degrees--as he thought on what had passed, and the narrow escape poor little Ailie had had, and the captain's tears, things he had never seen the captain shed before and had not believed the captain to have possessed--as he pondered these things, we say, his knotty visage began to work, and his cast-iron chin began to quiver, and his shaggy brows contracted, and his nose, besides becoming purple, began to twist, as if it were an independent member of his face, and he came, in short, to that climax which is familiarly expressed by the words "bursting into tears." But if anybody thinks the act, on the part of Tim Rokens, bore the smallest resemblance to the generally received idea of that sorrowful affection, "anybody," we take leave to tell him, is very much mistaken. The bold harpooner did it thus--he suddenly unhooked his right hand from the arm-hole of his vest, and gave his right thigh a slap which produced a crack that would have made a small pistol envious; then he uttered a succession of ferocious roars, that might have quite well indicated pain, or grief, or madness, or a drunken cheer, and, un-hooking the left hand, he doubled himself up, and thrust both knuckles into his eyes. The knuckles were wet when he pulled them out of his eyes, but he dried them on his pantaloons, bolted up the hatchway, and rushing up to the man at the wheel, demanded in a voice of thunder--"How's 'er head?" "Sou'-sou'-east-and-by-east," replied the man, in some surprise. "Sou'-sou'-east-and-by-east!" repeated Mr Rokens, in a savage growl of authority, as if he were nothing less than the admiral of the Channel Fleet. "That's two points and a half off yer course, sir. Luff, luff, you--you--" At this point Tim Rokens turned on his heel, and began to walk up and down the deck as calmly as if nothing whatever had occurred to disturb his equanimity. "The captain wants Glynn Proctor," said the second mate, looking down the fore-hatch. "Ay, ay, sir," answered Glynn, ascending, and going aft. "Ailie wants to see you, Glynn, my boy," said Captain Dunning, as the former entered the cabin; "and I want to speak to you myself--to thank you Glynn. Ah, lad! you can't know what a father's heart feels when--Go to her, boy." He grasped the youth's hand, and gave it a squeeze that revealed infinitely more of his feelings than could have been done by words. Glynn returned the squeeze, and opening the door of Ailie's private cabin, entered and sat down beside her crib. "Oh, Glynn, I want to speak to you; I want to thank you. I love you so much for jumping into the sea after me," began the child, eagerly, and raising herself on one elbow while she held out her hand. "Ailie," interrupted Glynn, taking her hand, and holding up his finger to impose silence, "you obeyed me _in_ the water, and now I insist on your obedience _out_ of the water. If you don't, I'll leave you. You're still too weak to toss about and speak loud in this way. Lie down, my pet." Glynn kissed her forehead, and forced her gently back on the pillow. "Well, I'll be good, but don't leave me yet, Glynn. I'm much better. Indeed, I feel quite strong. Oh! it was good of you--" "There you go again." "I love you," said Ailie. "I've no objection to that," replied Glynn, "but don't excite yourself. But tell me, Ailie, how was it that you managed to keep afloat so long? The more I think of it the more I am filled with amazement, and, in fact, I'm half inclined to think that God worked a miracle in order to save you." "I don't know," said Ailie, looking very grave and earnest, as she always did when our Maker's name happened to be mentioned. "Does God work miracles still?" "Men say not," replied Glynn. "I'm sure I don't quite understand what a miracle is," continued Ailie, "although Aunt Martha and Aunt Jane have often tried to explain it to me. Is floating on your back a miracle?" "No," said Glynn, laughing; "it isn't." "Well, that's the way I was saved. You know, ever since I can remember, I have bathed with Aunt Martha and Aunt Jane, and they taught me how to float--and it's so nice, you can't think how nice it is--and I can do it so easily now, that I never get frightened. But, oh!--when I was tossed over the side of the ship into the sea I _was_ frightened just. I don't think I _ever_ got such a fright. And I splashed about for some time, and swallowed some water, but I got upon my back somehow. I can't tell how it was, for I was too frightened to try to do anything. But when I found myself floating as I used to do long ago, I felt my fear go away a little, and I shut my eyes and prayed, and then it went away altogether; and I felt quite sure you would come to save me, and you _did_ come, Glynn, and I know it was God who sent you. But I became a good deal frightened again when I thought of the sharks, and--" "Now, Ailie, stop!" said Glynn. "You're forgetting your promise, and exciting yourself again." "So she is, and I must order you out, Master Glynn," said the doctor, opening the door, and entering at that moment. Glynn rose, patted the child's head, and nodded cheerfully as he left the little cabin. The captain caught him as he passed, and began to reiterate his thanks, when their conversation was interrupted by the voice of Mr Millons, who put his head in at the skylight and said--"Squall coming, sir, I think." "So, so," cried the captain, running upon deck. "I've been looking for it. Call all hands, Mr Millons, and take in sail--every rag, except the storm-trysails." Glynn hurried forward, and in a few minutes every man was at his post. The sails were furled, and every preparation made for a severe squall; for Captain Dunning knew that that part of the coast of Africa off which the _Red Eric_ was then sailing was subject to sudden squalls, which, though usually of short duration, were sometimes terrific in their violence. "Is everything snug, Mr Millons?" "All snug, sir." "Then let the men stand-by till it's over." The night had grown intensely dark, but away on the starboard-quarter the heavens appeared of an ebony blackness that was quite appalling. This appearance, that rose on the sky like a shroud of crape, quickly spread upwards until it reached the zenith. Then a few gleams of light seemed to illuminate it very faintly, and a distant hissing noise was heard. A dead calm surrounded the ship, which lay like a log on the water, and the crew, knowing that nothing more could be done in the way of preparation, awaited the bursting of the storm with uneasy feelings. In a few minutes its distant roar was heard,--like muttered thunder. On it came, with a steady continuous roar, as if chaos were about to be restored, and the crashing wreck of elements were being hurled in mad fury against the yet unshattered portions of creation. Another second, and the ship was on her beam-ends, and the sea and sky were white as milk as the wind tore up the waves and beat them flat, and whirled away broad sheets of driving foam. CHAPTER EIGHT. THE STORM, AND ITS RESULTS. Although the _Red Eric_ was thrown on her beam-ends, or nearly so, by the excessive violence of the squall, the preparations to meet it had been so well made that she righted again almost immediately, and now flew before the wind under bare poles with a velocity that was absolutely terrific. Ailie had been nearly thrown out of her berth when the ship lay over, and now when she listened to the water hissing and gurgling past the little port that lighted her cabin, and felt the staggering of the vessel, as burst after burst of the hurricane almost tore the masts out of her, she lay trembling with anxiety and debating with herself whether or not she ought to rise and go on deck. Captain Dunning well knew that his child would be naturally filled with fear, for this was the first severe squall she had ever experienced, so, as he could not quit the deck himself, he called Glynn Proctor to him and sent him down with a message. "Well, Ailie," said Glynn, cheerfully, as he opened the door and peeped in; "how d'ye get on, dear? The captain has sent me to say that the worst o' this blast is over, and you've nothing to fear." "I am glad to hear that, Glynn," replied the child, holding out her hand, while a smile lighted up her face and smoothed out the lines of anxiety from her brow. "Come and sit by me, Glynn, and tell me what like it is. I wish so much that I had been on deck. Was it grand, Glynn?" "It was uncommonly grand; it was even terrible--but I cannot sit with you more than a minute, else my shipmates will say that I'm skulking." "Skulking, Glynn! What is that?" "Why, it's--it's shirking work, you know," said Glynn, somewhat puzzled. Ailie laughed. "But you forget that I don't know what `shirking' means. You must explain that too." "How terribly green you are, Ailie." "No! am I?" exclaimed the child in some surprise. "What _can_ have done it? I'm not sick." Glynn laughed outright at this, and then proceeded to explain the meaning of the slang phraseology he had used. "Green, you must know, means ignorant," he began. "How funny! I wonder why." "Well, I don't know exactly. Perhaps it's because when a fellow's asked to answer questions he don't understand, he's apt to turn either blue with rage or yellow with fear--or both; and that, you know, would make him green. I've heard it said that it implies a comparison of men to plants--very young ones, you know, that are just up, just born, as it were, and have not had much experience of life, are green of course--but I like my own definition best." It may perhaps be scarcely necessary to remark that our hero was by no means singular in this little preference of his own definition to that of any one else! "Well, and what does skulking mean, and shirking work?" persisted Ailie. "It means hiding so as to escape duty, my little catechist; but--" "Hallo! Glynn, Glynn Proctor," roared the first mate from the deck--"where's that fellow? Skulking, I'll be bound. Lay aloft there and shake out the foretopsail. Look alive." "Ay, ay, sir," was the ready response as the men sprang to obey. "There, you have it now, Ailie, explained and illustrated," cried Glynn, starting up. "Here I am, at this minute in a snug, dry berth chatting to you, and in half a minute more I'll be out on the end o' the foreyard holding on for bare life, with the wind fit to tear off my jacket and blow my ducks into ribbons, and the rain and spray dashing all over me fit to blot me out altogether. There's a pretty little idea to turn over in your mind, Ailie, while I'm away." Glynn closed the door at the last word, and, as he had prophesied, was, within half a minute, in the unenviable position above referred to. The force of the squall was already broken, and the men were busy setting close-reefed topsails, but the rain that followed the squall bid fair to "blot them out," as Glynn said, altogether. It came down, not in drops, but in masses, which were caught up by the fierce gale and mingled with the spray, and hurled about and on with such violent confusion, that it seemed as though the whole creation were converted into wind and water, and had engaged in a war of extermination, the central turmoil of which was the _Red Eric_. But the good ship held on nobly. Although not a fast sailer she was an excellent sea-boat, and danced on the billows like a sea-mew. The squall, however, was not over. Before the topsails had been set many minutes it burst on them again with redoubled fury, and the main-topsail was instantly blown into ribbons. Glynn and his comrades were once more ordered aloft to furl the remaining sails, but before this could be done the foretopmast was carried away, and in falling it tore away the jib-boom also. At the same moment a tremendous sea came rolling on astern; in the uncertain light it looked like a dark moving mountain that was about to fall on them. "Luff, luff a little--steady!" roared the captain, who saw the summit of the wave toppling over the stern, and who fully appreciated the danger of being "pooped," which means having a wave launched upon the quarterdeck. "Steady it is," replied the steersman. "Look out!" shouted the captain and several of the men, simultaneously. Every one seized hold of whatever firm object chanced to be within reach; next moment the black billow fell like an avalanche on the poop, and rushing along the decks, swept the waist-boat and all the loose spars into the sea. The ship staggered under the shock, and it seemed to every one on deck that she must inevitably founder; but in a few seconds she recovered, the water gushed from the scuppers and sides in cataracts, and once more they drove swiftly before the gale. In about twenty minutes the wind moderated, and while some of the men went aloft to clear away the wreck of the topsails and make all snug, others went below to put on dry garments. "That was a narrow escape, Mr Millons," remarked the captain, as he stood by the starboard-rails. "It was, sir," replied the mate. "It's a good job too, sir, that none o' the 'ands were washed overboard." "It is, indeed, Mr Millons; we've reason to be thankful for that; but I'm sorry to see that we've lost our waist-boat." "We've lost our spare sticks, sir," said the mate, with a lugubrious face, while he wrung the brine out of his hair; "and I fear we've nothink left fit to make a noo foretopmast or a jib-boom." "True, Mr Millons; we shall have to run to the nearest port on the African coast to refit; luckily we are not very far from it. Meanwhile, tell Mr Markham to try the well; it is possible that we may have sprung a leak in all this straining, and see that the wreck of the foretopmast is cleared away. I shall go below and consult the chart; if any change in the weather takes place, call me at once." "Yes, sir," answered the mate, as he placed his hand to windward of his mouth, in order to give full force to the terrific tones in which he proceeded to issue his captain's commands. Captain Dunning went below, and looking into Ailie's berth, nodded his wet head several times, and smiled with his damp visage benignly--which acts, however well meant and kindly they might be, were, under the circumstances, quite unnecessary, seeing that the child was sound asleep. The captain then dried his head and face with a towel about as rough as the mainsail of a seventy-four, and with a violence that would have rubbed the paint off the figurehead of the _Red Eric_. Then he sat down to his chart, and having pondered over it for some minutes, he went to the foot of the companion-ladder and roared up--"Lay the course nor'-nor'-east-and-by-nor'-half-nor', Mr Millons." To which Mr Millons replied in an ordinary tone, "Ay, ay, sir," and then roared--"Lay her head nor'-nor'-east-and-by-nor'-half-nor'," in an unnecessarily loud and terribly fierce tone of voice to the steersman, as if that individual were in the habit of neglecting to obey orders, and required to be perpetually threatened in what may be called a tone of implication. The steersman answered in what, to a landsman, would have sounded as a rather amiable and forgiving tone of voice--"Nor'-nor'-east-and-by-nor'-half-nor' it is, sir;" and thereupon the direction of the ship's head was changed, and the _Red Eric_, according to Tim Rokens, "bowled along" with a stiff breeze on the quarter, at the rate of ten knots, for the west coast of Africa. CHAPTER NINE. RAMBLES ON SHORE, AND STRANGE THINGS AND CEREMONIES WITNESSED THERE. Variety is charming. No one laying claim to the smallest amount of that very uncommon attribute, common-sense, will venture to question the truth of that statement. Variety is so charming that men and women, boys and girls, are always, all of them, hunting after it. To speak still more emphatically on this subject, we venture to affirm that it is an absolute necessity of animal nature. Were any positive and short-sighted individual to deny this position, and sit down during the remainder of his life in a chair and look straight before him, in order to prove that he could live without variety, he would seek it in change of position. If he did not do that, he would seek it in change of thought. If he did not do _that_, he would die! Fully appreciating this great principle of our nature, and desiring to be charmed with a little variety, Tim Rokens and Phil Briant presented themselves before Captain Dunning one morning about a week after the storm, and asked leave to go ashore. The reader may at first think the men were mad, but he will change his opinion when we tell him that four days after the storm in question the _Red Eric_ had anchored in the harbour formed by the mouth of one of the rivers on the African coast, where white men trade with the natives for bar-wood and ivory, and where they also carry on that horrible traffic in negroes, the existence of which is a foul disgrace to humanity. "Go ashore!" echoed Captain Dunning. "Why, if you all go on at this rate, we'll never get ready for sea. However, you may go, but don't wander too far into the interior, and look out for elephants and wild men o' the woods, boys--keep about the settlements." "Ay, ay, sir, and thank'ee," replied the two men, touching their caps as they retired. "Please, sir, I want to go too," said Glynn Proctor, approaching the captain. "What! more wanting to go ashore?" "Yes, and so do I," cried Ailie, running forward and clasping her father's rough hand; "I did enjoy myself _so_ much yesterday, that I must go on shore again to-day, and I must go with Glynn. He'll take such famous care of me; now _won't_ you let me go, papa?" "Upon my word, this looks like preconcerted mutiny. However, I don't mind if I do let you go, but have a care, Glynn, that you don't lose sight of her for a moment, and keep to the shore and the settlements. I've no notion of allowing her to be swallowed by an alligator, or trampled on by an elephant, or run away with by a gorilla." "Never fear, sir. You may trust me; I'll take good care of her." With a shout of delight the child ran down to the cabin to put on her bonnet, and quickly reappeared, carrying in her hand a basket which she purposed to fill with a valuable collection of plants, minerals and insects. These she meant to preserve and carry home as a surprise to aunts Martha and Jane, both of whom were passionately fond of mineralogy, delighted in botany, luxuriated in entomology, doted on conchology, and raved about geology--all of which sciences they studied superficially, and specimens of which they collected and labelled beautifully, and stowed away carefully in a little cabinet, which they termed (not jocularly, but seriously) their "Bureau of Omnology." It was a magnificent tropical morning when the boat left the side of the _Red Eric_ and landed Glynn and Ailie, Tim Rokens and Phil Briant on the wharf that ran out from the yellow beach of the harbour in which their vessel lay. The sun had just risen. The air was cool (comparatively) and motionless, so that the ocean lay spread out like a pure mirror, and revealed its treasures and mysteries to a depth of many fathoms. The sky was intensely blue and the sun intensely bright, while the atmosphere was laden with the delightful perfume of the woods--a perfume that is sweet and pleasant to those long used to it, how much more enchanting to nostrils rendered delicately sensitive by long exposure to the scentless gales of ocean? One of the sailors who had shown symptoms of weakness in the chest during the voyage, had begged to be discharged and left ashore at this place. He could ill be spared, but as he was fit for nothing, the captain agreed to his request, and resolved to procure a negro to act as cook's assistant in the place of Phil Briant, who was too useful a man to remain in so subordinate a capacity. The sick man was therefore sent on shore in charge of Tim Rokens. On landing they were met by a Portuguese slave-dealer, an American trader, a dozen or two partially-clothed negroes, and a large concourse of utterly naked little negro children, who proved to demonstration that they were of the same nature and spirit with white children, despite the colour of their skins, by taking intense delight in all the amusements practised by the fair-skinned juveniles of more northern lands--namely scampering after each other, running and yelling, indulging in mischief, spluttering in the waters, rolling on the sand, staring at the strangers, making impudent remarks, and punching each other's heads. If the youth of America ever wish to prove that they are of a distinct race from the sable sons of Africa, their only chance is to become paragons of perfection, and give up _all_ their wicked ways. "Oh!" exclaimed Ailie, half amused, half frightened, as Glynn lifted her out of the boat; "oh! how funny! Don't they look so _very_ like as if they were all painted black?" "Good-day to you, gentlemen," cried the trader, as he approached the landing. "Got your foretop damaged, I see. Plenty of sticks here to mend it. Be glad to assist you in any way I can. Was away in the woods when you arrived, else I'd have come to offer sooner." The trader, who was a tall, sallow man in a blue cotton shirt, sailor's trousers, and a broad-brimmed straw hat, addressed himself to Glynn, whose gentlemanly manner led him to believe he was in command of the party. "Thank you," replied Glynn, "we've got a little damage--lost a good boat, too; but we'll soon repair the mast. We have come ashore just now, however, mainly for a stroll." "Ay," put in Phil Briant, who was amusing the black children--and greatly delighting himself by nodding and smiling ferociously at them, with a view to making a favourable impression on the natives of this new country. "Ay, sir, an' sure we've comed to land a sick shipmate who wants to see the doctor uncommon. Have ye sich an article in these parts?" "No, not exactly," replied the trader, "but I do a little in that way myself; perhaps I may manage to cure him if he comes up to my house." "We wants a nigger too," said Rokens, who, while the others were talking, was extremely busy filling his pipe. At this remark the trader looked knowing. "Oh!" he said, "that's your game, is it? There's your man there; I've nothing to do with such wares." He pointed to the Portuguese slave-dealer as he spoke. Seeing himself thus referred to, the slave-dealer came forward, hat in hand, and made a polite bow. He was a man of extremely forbidding aspect. A long dark visage, which terminated in a black peaked beard, and was surmounted by a tall-crowned broad-brimmed straw hat, stood on the top of a long, raw-boned, thin, sinewy, shrivelled, but powerful frame, that had battled with and defeated all the fevers and other diseases peculiar to the equatorial regions of Africa. He wore a short light-coloured cotton jacket and pantaloons--the latter much too short for his limbs, but the deficiency was more than made up by a pair of Wellington boots. His natural look was a scowl. His assumed smile of politeness was so unnatural, that Tim Rokens thought, as he gazed at him, he would have preferred greatly to have been frowned at by him. Even Ailie, who did not naturally think ill of any one, shrank back as he approached and grasped Glynn's hand more firmly than usual. "Goot morning, gentl'm'n. You was vish for git nigger, I suppose." "Well, we wos," replied Tim, with a faint touch of sarcasm in his tone. "Can _you_ get un for us?" "Yees, sare, as many you please," replied the slave-dealer, with a wink that an ogre might have envied. "Have great many ob 'em stay vid me always." "Ah! then, they must be fond o' bad company," remarked Briant, in an undertone, "to live along wid such a alligator." "Well, then," said Tim Rokens, who had completed the filling of his pipe, and was now in the full enjoyment of it; "let's see the feller, an' I'll strike a bargain with him, if he seems a likely chap." "You will have strike de bargin vid _me_," said the dealer. "I vill charge you ver' leetle, suppose you take full cargo." The whole party, who were ignorant of the man's profession, started at this remark, and looked at the dealer in surprise. "Wot!" exclaimed Tim Rokens, withdrawing his pipe from his lips; "do you _sell_ niggers?" "Yees, to be surely," replied the man, with a peculiarly saturnine smile. "A slave-dealer?" exclaimed Briant, clenching his fists. "Even so, sare." At this Briant uttered a shout, and throwing forward his clenched fists in a defiant attitude, exclaimed between his set teeth-- "Arrah! come on!" Most men have peculiarities. Phil Briant had many; but his most striking peculiarity, and that which led him frequently into extremely awkward positions, was a firm belief that his special calling--in an amateur point of view--was the redressing of wrongs--not wrongs of a particular class, or wrongs of an excessively glaring and offensive nature, but _all_ wrongs whatsoever. It mattered not to Phil whether the wrong had to be righted by force of argument or force of arms. He considered himself an accomplished practitioner in both lines of business--and in regard to the latter his estimate of his powers was not very much too high, for he was a broad-shouldered, deep-chested, long-armed fellow, and had acquired a scientific knowledge of boxing under a celebrated bruiser at the expense of a few hard-earned shillings, an occasional bottle of poteen, and many a severe thrashing. Justice to Phil's amiability of character requires, however, that we should state that he never sought to terminate an argument with his fists unless he was invited to do so, and even then he invariably gave his rash challenger fair warning, and offered to let him retreat if so disposed. But when injustice met his eye, or when he happened to see cruelty practised by the strong against the weak, his blood fired at once, and he only deigned the short emphatic remark--"Come on," sometimes preceded by "Arrah!" sometimes not. Generally speaking, he accepted his own challenge, and _went_ on forthwith. Of all the iniquities that draw forth the groans of humanity on this sad earth, slavery, in the opinion of Phil Briant, was the worst. He had never come in contact with it, not having been in the Southern States of America. He knew from hearsay that the coast of Africa was its fountain, but he had forgotten the fact, and in the novelty of the scene before him, it did not at first occur to him that he was actually face to face with a "live slave-dealer." "Let me go!" roared the Irishman, as he struggled in the iron grip of Tim Rokens; and the not less powerful grasp of Glynn Proctor. "Och! let me go! _Doo_, darlints. I'll only give him wan--jist _wan_! Let me go, will ye?" "Not if I can help it," said Glynn, tightening his grasp. "Wot a cross helephant it is," muttered Rokens, as he thrust his hand into his comrade's neckcloth and quietly began to choke him as he dragged him away towards the residence of the trader, who was an amused as well as surprised spectator of this unexpected ebullition of passion. At length Phil Briant allowed himself to be forced away from the beach where the slave-dealer stood with his arms crossed on his breast, and a sarcastic smile playing on his thin lips. Had that Portuguese trafficker in human flesh known how quickly Briant could have doubled the size of his long nose and shut up both his eyes, he would probably have modified the expression of his countenance; but he didn't know it, so he looked after the party until they had entered the dwelling of the trader, and then sauntered up towards the woods, which in this place came down to within a few yards of the beach. The settlement was a mere collection of rudely-constructed native huts, built of bamboos and roofed with a thatch of palm-leaves. In the midst of it stood a pretty white-painted cottage with green-edged windows and doors, and a verandah in front. This was the dwelling of the trader; and alongside of it, under the same roof, was the store, in which were kept the guns, beads, powder and shot, etcetera, etcetera, which he exchanged with the natives of the interior for elephants' tusks and bar-wood, from which latter a beautiful dye is obtained; also ebony, indiarubber, and other products of the country. Here the trader entertained Tim Rokens and Phil Briant with stories of the slave-trade; and here we shall leave them while we follow Glynn and Ailie, who went off together to ramble along the shore of the calm sea. They had not gone far when specimens of the strange creatures that dwell in these lands presented themselves to their astonished gaze. There were birds innumerable on the shore, on the surface of the ocean, and in the woods. The air was alive with them; many being similar to the birds they had been familiar with from infancy, while others were new and strange. To her immense delight Ailie saw many living specimens of the bird-of-paradise, the graceful plumes of which she had frequently beheld on very high and important festal occasions, nodding on the heads of Aunt Martha and Aunt Jane. But the prettiest of all the birds she saw there was a small creature with a breast so red and bright, that it seemed, as it flew about, like a little ball of fire. There were many of them flying about near a steep bank, in holes of which they built their nests. She observed that they fed upon flies which they caught while skimming through the air, and afterwards learned that they were called bee-eaters. "Oh! look!" exclaimed Ailie in that tone of voice which indicated that a surprising discovery had been made. Ailie was impulsive, and the _tones_ in which she exclaimed "Oh!" were so varied, emphatic, and distinct, that those who knew her well could tell exactly the state of her mind on hearing the exclamation. At present, her "Oh!" indicated surprise mingled with alarm. "Eh! what, where?" cried Glynn, throwing forward his musket--for he had taken the precaution to carry one with him, not knowing what he might meet with on such a coast. "The snake! look--oh!" At that moment a huge black snake, about ten feet long, showed itself in the grass. Glynn took aim at once, but the piece, being an old flint-lock, missed fire. Before he could again take aim the loathsome-looking reptile had glided into the underwood, which in most places was so overgrown with the rank and gigantic vegetation of the tropics as to be quite impenetrable. "Ha! he's gone, Ailie!" cried Glynn, in a tone of disappointment, as he put fresh priming into the pan of his piece. "We must be careful in walking here, it seems. This wretched old musket! Lucky for us that our lives did not depend on it. I wonder if it was a poisonous serpent?" "Perhaps it was," said Ailie, with a look of deep solemnity, as she took her companion's left hand, and trotted along by his side. "Are not all serpents poisonous?" "Oh dear, no. Why, there are some kinds that are quite harmless. But as I don't know which are and which are not, we must look upon all as enemies until we become more knowing." Presently they came to the mouth of a river--one of those sluggish streams on the African coast, which suggest the idea of malaria and the whole family of low fevers. It glided through a mangrove swamp, where the tree seemed to be standing on their roots, which served the purpose of stilts to keep them out of the mud. The river was oily, and sluggish, and hot-looking, and its mud-banks were slimy and liquid, so that it was not easy to say whether the water of the river was mud, or the mud on the bank was water. It was a place that made one involuntarily think of creeping monsters, and crawling objects, and slimy things! "Look! oh! oh! such a darling pet!" exclaimed Ailie, as they stood near the banks of this river wondering what monster would first cleave the muddy waters, and raise its hideous head. She pointed to the bough of a dead tree near which they stood, and on which sat the "darling pet" referred to. It was a very small monkey with white whiskers; a dumpy little thing, that looked at them with an expression of surprise quite equal in intensity to their own. Seeing that it was discovered, the "darling pet" opened its little mouth, and uttered a succession of "Ohs!" that rendered Ailie's exclamations quite insignificant by comparison. They were sharp and short, and rapidly uttered, while, at the same time, two rows of most formidable teeth were bared, along with the gums that held them. At this Ailie and her companion burst into a fit of irrepressible laughter, whereupon the "darling pet" put itself into such a passion-- grinned, and coughed, and gasped, and shook the tree, and writhed, and glared, to such an extent that Glynn said he thought it would burst, and Ailie agreed that it was very likely. Finding that this terrible display of fury had no effect on the strangers, the "darling pet" gave utterance to a farewell shriek of passion, and, bounding nimbly into the woods, disappeared. "Oh, _what_ a funny beast," said Ailie, sitting down on a stone, and drying her eyes, which had filled with tears from excessive laughter. "Indeed it was," said Glynn. "It's my opinion that a monkey is the funniest beast in the world." "No, Glynn; a kitten's funnier," said Ailie, with a degree of emphasis that showed she had considered the subject well, and had fully made up her mind in regard to it long ago. "I think a kitten's the _very_ funniest beast in all the whole world." "Well, perhaps it is," said Glynn thoughtfully. "Did you ever see _three_ kittens together?" asked Ailie. "No; I don't think I ever did. I doubt if I have seen even two together. Why?" "Oh! because they are so very, very funny. Sit down beside me, and I'll tell you about three kittens I once had. They were very little--at least they were little before they got big." Glynn laughed. "Oh, you know what I mean. They were able to play when they were very little, you know." "Yes, yes, I understand. Go on." "Well, two were grey, and one was white and grey, but most of it was white; and when they went to play, one always hid itself to watch, and then the other two began, and came up to each other with little jumps, and their backs up and tails curved, and hair all on end, glaring at each other, and pretending that they were so angry. Do you know, Glynn, I really believe they sometimes forgot it was pretence, and actually became angry. But the fun was, that, when the two were just going to fly at each other, the third one, who had been watching, used to dart out and give them _such_ a fright--a _real_ fright, you know--which made them jump, oh! three times their own height up into the air, and they came down again with a _fuff_ that put the third one in a fright too; so that they all scattered away from each other as if they had gone quite mad. What's that?" "It's a fish, I think," said Glynn, rising and going towards the river, to look at the object that had attracted his companion's attention. "It's a shark, I do believe." In a few seconds the creature came so close that they could see it quite distinctly; and on a more careful inspection, they observed that the mouth of the river was full of these ravenous monsters. Soon after they saw monsters of a still more ferocious aspect; for while they were watching the sharks, two crocodiles put up their snouts, and crawled sluggishly out of the water upon a mud-bank, where they lay down, apparently with the intention of taking a nap in the sunshine. They were too far off, however, to be well seen. "Isn't it strange, Glynn, that there are such ugly beasts in the world?" said Ailie. "I wonder why God made them?" "So do I," said Glynn, looking at the child's thoughtful face in some surprise. "I suppose they must be of some sort of use." "Oh! yes, _of course_ they are," rejoined Ailie quickly. "Aunt Martha and Aunt Jane used to tell me that every creature was made by God for some good purpose; and when I came to the crocodile in my book, they said it was certainly of use too, though they did not know what. I remember it very well, because I was _so_ surprised to hear that Aunt Martha and Aunt Jane did not know _everything_." "No doubt Aunt Martha and Aunt Jane were right," said Glynn, with a smile. "I confess, however, that crocodiles seem to me to be of no other use than to kill and eat up everything that comes within the reach of their terrible jaws. But, indeed, now I think of it, the very same may be said of man, for _he_ kills and eats up at least everything that he _wants_ to put into his jaws." "So he does," said Ailie; "isn't it funny?" "Isn't what funny?" asked Glynn. "That we should be no better than crocodiles--at least, I mean about eating." "You forget, Ailie, we cook our food." "Oh! so we do. I did not remember to think of that. That's a great difference, indeed." Leaving Glynn and his little charge to philosophise on the resemblance between men and crocodiles, we shall now return to Tim Rokens and Phil Briant, whom we left in the trader's cottage. The irate Irishman had been calmed down by reason and expostulation, and had again been roused to great indignation several times since we left him, by the account of things connected with the slave-trade, given him by the trader, who, although he had no interest in it himself, did not feel very much aggrieved by the sufferings he witnessed around him. "You don't mane to tell me, now, that _whalers_ comes in here for slaves, do ye?" said Briant, placing his two fists on his two knees, and thrusting his head towards the trader, who admitted that he meant to say that; and that he meant, moreover, to add, that the thing was by no means of rare occurrence--that whaling ships occasionally ran into that very port on their way south, shipped a cargo of negroes, sold them at the nearest slave-buying port they could make on the American coast, and then proceeded on their voyage, no one being a whit the wiser. "You don't mean it?" remarked Tim Rokens, crossing his legs and devoting himself to his pipe, with the air of a man who mourned the depravity of his species, but did not feel called upon to disturb his equanimity very much because of it. Phil Briant clenched his teeth, and glared. "Indeed I do mean it," reiterated the trader. "Would you believe it, there was one whaler put in here, and what does he do but go and invite a lot o' free blacks aboard to have a blow-out; and no sooner did he get them down into the hold then he shut down the hatches, sailed away, and sold 'em every one." "Ah! morther, couldn't I burst?" groaned Phil; "an' ov coorse they left a lot o' fatherless children and widders behind 'em." "They did; but all the widders are married again, and most of the children are grown up." Briant looked as if he did not feel quite sure whether he ought to regard this as a comforting piece of information or the reverse, and wisely remained silent. "And now you must excuse me if I leave you to ramble about alone for some time, as I have business to transact; meanwhile I'll introduce you to a nigger who will show you about the place, and one who, if I mistake not, will gladly accompany you to sea as steward's assistant." The trader opened a door which led to the back part of his premises, and shouted to a stout negro who was sawing wood there, and who came forward with alacrity. "Ho! Neepeelootambo, go take these gentlemen round about the village, and let them see all that is to be seen." "Yes, massa." "And they've got something to say to you about going to sea--would you like to go?" The negro grinned, and as his mouth was of the largest possible size, it is not exaggeration to say that the grin extended from ear to ear, but he made no other reply. "Well, please yourself. You're a free man--you may do as you choose." Neepeelootambo, who was almost naked, having only a small piece of cloth wrapped round his waist and loins, grinned again, displaying a double row of teeth worthy of a shark in so doing, and led his new friends from the house. "Now," said Tim Rokens, turning to the negro, and pointing along the shore, "we'll go along this way and jaw the matter over. Business first, and pleasure, if ye can get it, arterwards--them's my notions, Nip--Nip--Nippi--what's your name?" "Coo Tumble, I think," suggested Briant. "Ay, Nippiloo Bumble--wot a jaw-breaker! so git along, old boy." The negro, who was by no means an "old boy," but a stalwart man in the prime of life, stepped out, and as they walked along, both Rokens and Briant did their best to persuade him to ship on board the _Red Eric_, but without success. They were somewhat surprised as well as chagrined, having been led to expect that the man would consent at once. But no alluring pictures of the delights of seafaring life, or the pleasures and excitements of the whale-fishery, had the least effect on their sable companion. Even sundry shrewd hints, thrown out by Phil Briant, that "the steward had always command o' the wittles, and that his assistant would only have to help himself when convanient," failed to move him. "Well, Nippi-Boo-Tumble," cried Tim Rokens, who in his disappointment unceremoniously contracted his name, "it's my opinion--private opinion, mark'ee--that you're a ass, an' you'll come for to repent of it." "Troth, Nippi-Bumble, he's about right," added Briant coaxingly. "Come now, avic, wot's the raisin ye won't go? Sure we ain't blackguards enough to ax ye to come for to be sold; it's all fair and above board. Why won't ye, now?" The negro stopped, and turning towards them, drew himself proudly up; then, as if a sudden thought had occurred to him, he advanced a step and held up his forefinger to impose silence. "You no tell what I go to say? at least, not for one, two day." "Niver a word, honour bright," said Phil, in a confidential tone, while Rokens expressed the same sentiment by means of an emphatic wink and nod. "You mus' know," said the negro, earnestly, "me expec's to be made a king!" "A wot?" exclaimed both his companions in the same breath, and very much in the same tone. "A king." "Wot?" said Rokens; "d'ye mean, a ruler of this here country?" Neepeelootambo nodded his head so violently that it was a marvel it remained on his shoulders. "Yis. Ho! ho! ho! 'xpec's to be a king." "And when are ye to be crowned, Bumble?" inquired Briant, rather sceptically, as they resumed their walk. "Oh, me no say me _goin'_ to be king; me only _'xpec's_ dat." "Werry good," returned Rokens; "but wot makes ye for to expect it?" "Aha! Me berry clebber fellow--know most ebbery ting. Me hab doo'd good service to dis here country. Me can fight like one leopard, and me hab kill great few elephant and gorilla. Not much mans here hab shoot de gorilla, him sich terriferick beast; 'bove five foot six tall, and bigger round de breast dan you or me--dat is a great true fact. Also, me can spok Englis'." "An' so you expec's they're goin' to make you a king for all that?" "Yis, dat is fat me 'xpec's, for our old king be just dead; but dey nebber tell who dey going to make king till dey do it. I not more sure ob it dan the nigger dat walk dare before you." Neepeelootambo pointed as he spoke to a negro who certainly had a more kingly aspect than any native they had yet seen. He was a perfect giant, considerably above six feet high, and broad in proportion. He wore no clothing on the upper part of his person, but his legs were encased in a pair of old canvas trousers, which had been made for a man of ordinary stature, so that his huge bony ankles were largely exposed to view. Just as Phil and Rokens stopped to take a good look at him before passing on, a terrific yell issued from the bushes, and instantly after, a negro ran towards the black giant and administered to him a severe kick on the thigh, following it up with a cuff on the side of the head, at the same time howling something in the native tongue, which our friends of course did not understand. This man was immediately followed by three other blacks, one of whom pulled the giant's hair, the other pulled his nose, and the third spat in his face! It is needless to remark that the sailors witnessed this unprovoked assault with unutterable amazement. But the most remarkable part of it was, that the fellow, instead of knocking all his assailants down, as he might have done without much trouble, quietly submitted to the indignities heaped upon him; nay, he even smiled upon his tormentors, who increased in numbers every minute, running out from among the bushes and surrounding the unoffending man, and uttering wild shouts as they maltreated him. "Wot's he bin doin'?" inquired Rokens, turning to his black companion. But Rokens received no answer, for Neepeelootambo was looking on at the scene with an expression so utterly woe-begone and miserable that one would imagine he was himself suffering the rough usage he witnessed. "Arrah! ye don't appear to be chairful," said Briant, laughing, as he looked in the negro's face. "This is a quare counthrie, an' no mistake;--it seems to be always blowin' a gale o' surprises. Wot's wrong wid ye, Bumble?" The negro groaned. "Sure that may be a civil answer, but it's not o' much use. Hallo! what air they doin' wid the poor cratur now?" As he spoke the crowd seized the black giant by the arms and neck and hair, and dragged him away towards the village, leaving our friends in solitude. "A very purty little scene," remarked Phil Briant when they were out of sight; "very purty indade, av we only knowed wot it's all about." If the surprise of the two sailors was great at what they had just witnessed, it was increased tenfold by the subsequent behaviour of their negro companion. That eccentric individual suddenly checked his groans, gave vent to a long, deep sigh, and assuming a resigned expression of countenance, rose up and said--"Ho! It all ober now, massa." "I do believe," remarked Rokens, looking gravely at his shipmate, "that the feller's had an attack of the mollygrumbles, an's got better all of a suddint." "No, massa, dat not it. But me willin' to go wid you now to de sea." "Eh? willin' to go? Why, Nippi-Too-Cumble, wot a rum customer you are, to be sure!" "Yis, massa," rejoined the negro. "Me not goin' to be king now, anyhow; so it ob no use stoppin' here. Me go to sea." "Not goin' to be king? How d'ye know that?" "'Cause dat oder nigger, him be made king in a berry short time. You mus' know, dat w'en dey make wan king in dis here place, de peeple choose de man; but dey not let him know. He may guess if him please-- like me--but p'raps him guess wrong--like me! Ho! ho! Den arter dey fix on de man, dey run at him and kick him, as you hab seen dem do, and spit on him, and trow mud ober him, tellin' him all de time, `You no king yet, you black rascal; you soon be king, and den you may put your foots on our necks and do w'at you like, but not yit; take dat, you tief!' An' so dey 'buse him for a littel time. Den dey take him straight away to de palace and crown him, an', oh! arter dat dey become very purlite to him. Him know dat well 'nuff, and so him not be angry just now. Ah! me did 'xpec, to hab bin kick and spitted on dis berry day!" Poor Neepeelootambo uttered the last words in such a deeply touching tone, and seemed to be so much cast down at the thought that his chance of being "kicked and spitted upon" had passed away for ever, that Phil Briant burst into a hearty fit of laughter, and Tim Rokens exhibited symptoms of internal risibility, though his outward physiognomy remained unchanged. "Och! Bumble, you'll be the death o' me," cried Briant. "An' are they a-crownin' of him now?" "Yis, massa. Dat what dey go for to do jist now." "Troth, then, I'll go an' inspict the coronation. Come along, Bumble, me darlint, and show us the way." In a few minutes Neepeelootambo conducted his new friends into a large rudely-constructed hut, which was open on three sides and thatched with palm-leaves. This was the palace before referred to by him. Here they found a large concourse of negroes, whose main object at that time seemed to be the creation of noise; for besides yelling and hooting, they beat a variety of native drums, some of which consisted of bits of board, and others of old tin and copper kettles. Forcing their way through the noisy throng they reached the inside of the hut, into which they found that Ailie Dunning and Glynn Proctor had pushed their way before them. Giving them a nod of recognition, they sat down on a mat by their side to watch the proceedings, which by this time were nearly concluded. The new king--who was about to fill the throne rendered vacant by the recent death of the old king of that region--was seated on an elevated stool looking very dignified, despite the rough ordeal through which he had just passed. When the noise above referred to had calmed down, an old grey-headed negro rose and made a speech in the language of the country, after which he advanced and crowned the new king, who had already been invested in a long scarlet coat covered with tarnished gold lace, and cut in the form peculiar to the last century. The crown consisted of an ordinary black silk hat, considerably the worse for wear. It looked familiar and commonplace enough in the eyes of their white visitors; but, being the only specimen of the article in the district, it was regarded by the negroes with peculiar admiration, and deemed worthy to decorate the brows of royalty. Having had this novel crown placed on the top of his woolly pate, which was much too large for it, the new king hit it an emphatic blow on the top, partly with a view to force it on, and partly, no doubt, with the design of impressing his new subjects with the fact that he was now their rightful sovereign, and that he meant thenceforth to exercise all the authority, and avail himself of all the privileges that his high position conferred on him. He then rose and made a pretty long speech, which was frequently applauded, and which terminated amid a most uproarious demonstration of loyalty on the part of the people. If you wish to gladden the heart of a black man, reader, get him into the midst of an appalling noise. The negro's delight is to shout, and laugh, and yell, and beat tin kettles with iron spoons. The greater the noise, the more he enjoys himself. Great guns and musketry, gongs and brass bands, kettledrums and smashing crockery, crashing railway-engines, blending their utmost whistles with the shrieks of a thousand pigs being killed, all going at once, full blast, and as near to him as possible, is a species of Elysium to the sable son of Africa. On their occasions of rejoicing, negroes procure and produce as much noise as is possible, so that the white visitors were soon glad to seek shelter, and find relief to their ears, on board ship. But even there the sounds of rejoicing reached them, and long after the curtain of night had enshrouded land and sea, the hideous din of royal festivities came swelling out with the soft warm breeze that fanned Ailie's cheek as she stood on the quarterdeck of the _Red Eric_, watching the wild antics of the naked savages as they danced round their bright fires, and holding her father's hand tightly as she related the day's adventures, and told of the monkeys, crocodiles, and other strange creatures she had seen in the mangrove-swamps and on the mud-banks of the slimy river. CHAPTER TEN. AN INLAND JOURNEY--SLEEPING IN THE WOODS--WILD BEASTS EVERYWHERE--SAD FATE OF A GAZELLE. The damage sustained by the _Red Eric_ during the storm was found to be more severe than was at first supposed. Part of her false keel had been torn away by a sunken rock, over which the vessel had passed, and scraped so lightly that no one on board was aware of the fact, yet with sufficient force to cause the damage to which we have referred. A slight leak was also discovered, and the injury to the top of the foremast was neither so easily nor so quickly repaired as had been anticipated. It thus happened that the vessel was detained on this part of the African coast for nearly a couple of weeks, during which time Ailie had frequent opportunities of going on shore, sometimes in charge of Glynn, sometimes with Tim Rokens, and occasionally with her father. During these little excursions the child lived in a world of romance. Not only were the animals, and plants, and objects of every kind with which she came in contact, entirely new to her, except in so far as she had made their acquaintance in pictures, but she invested everything in the roseate hue peculiar to her own romantic mind. True, she saw many things that caused her a good deal of pain, and she heard a few stories about the terrible cruelty of the negroes to each other, which made her shudder, but unpleasant thoughts did not dwell long on her mind; she soon forgot the little annoyances or frights she experienced, and revelled in the enjoyment of the beautiful sights and sweet perfumes which more than counterbalanced the bad odours and ugly things that came across her path. Ailie's mind was a very inquiring one, and often and long did she ponder the things she saw, and wonder why God made some so very ugly and some so very pretty, and to what use He intended them to be put. Of course, in such speculative inquiries, she was frequently very much puzzled, as also were the companions to whom she propounded the questions from time to time, but she had been trained to _believe_ that everything that was made by God was good, whether she understood it or not, and she noticed particularly, and made an involuntary memorandum of the fact in her own mind, that ugly things were very few in number, while beautiful objects were absolutely innumerable. The trader, who rendered good assistance to Captain Dunning in the repair of his ship, frequently overheard Ailie wishing "so much" that she might be allowed to go far into the wild woods, and one day suggested to the captain that, as the ship would have to remain a week or more in port, he would be glad to take a party an excursion up the river in his canoe, and show them a little of forest life, saying at the same time that the little girl might go too, for they were not likely to encounter any danger which might not be easily guarded against. At first the captain shook his head, remembering the stories that were afloat regarding the wild beasts of those regions. But, on second thoughts, he agreed to allow a well-armed party to accompany the trader; the more so that he was urged thereto very strongly by Dr Hopley, who, being a naturalist, was anxious to procure specimens of the creatures and plants in the interior, and being a phrenologist, was desirous of examining what Glynn termed the "bumpological developments of the negro skull." On still further considering the matter, Captain Dunning determined to leave the first mate in charge of the ship, head the exploring party himself, and take Ailie along with him. To say that Ailie was delighted, would be to understate the fact very much. She was wild with joy, and went about all the day, after her father's decision was announced, making every species of insane preparation for the canoe voyage, clasping her hands, and exclaiming, "Oh! _what_ fun!" while her bright eyes sparkled to such an extent that the sailors fairly laughed in her face when they looked at her. Preparations were soon made. The party consisted of the captain and his little child, Glynn Proctor (of course), Dr Hopley, Tim Rokens, Phil Briant, Jim Scroggles, the trader, and Neepeelootambo, which last had been by that time regularly domesticated on board, and was now known by the name of King Bumble, which name, being as good as his own, and more pronounceable, we shall adopt from this time forward. The very morning after the proposal was made, the above party embarked in the trader's canoe; and plying their paddles with the energy of men bent on what is vulgarly termed "going the whole hog," they quickly found themselves out of sight of their natural element, the ocean, and surrounded by the wild, rich, luxuriant vegetation of equatorial Africa. "Now," remarked Tim Rokens, as they ceased paddling, and ran the canoe under the shade of a broad palm-tree that overhung the river, in order to take a short rest and a smoke after a steady paddle of some miles--"Now this is wot I calls glorious, so it is! Ain't it? Pass the 'baccy this way." This double remark was made to King Bumble, who passed the tobacco-pouch to his friend, after helping himself, and admitted that it was "mugnifercent." "Here have I bin a-sittin' in this here canoe," continued Rokens, "for more nor two hours, an' to my sartin knowledge I've seed with my two eyes twelve sharks (for I counted 'em every one) at the mouth of the river, and two crocodiles, and the snout of a hopplepittimus; is that wot ye calls it?" Rokens addressed his question to the captain, but Phil Briant, who had just succeeded in getting his pipe to draw beautifully, answered instead. "Och! no," said he; "that's not the way to pronounce it at all, at all. It's a huppi-puppi-puttimus." "I dun know," said Rokens, shaking his head gravely; "it appears to me there's too many huppi puppies in that word." This debate caused Ailie infinite amusement, for she experienced considerable difficulty herself in pronouncing that name, and had a very truthful picture of the hippopotamus hanging at that moment in her room at home. "Isn't Tim Rokens very funny, papa?" she remarked in a whisper, looking up in her father's face. "Hush! my pet, and look yonder. There is something funnier, if I mistake not." He pointed, as he spoke, to a ripple in the water on the opposite side of the river, close under a bank which was clothed with rank, broad-leaved, and sedgy vegetation. In a few seconds a large crocodile put up its head, not farther off than twenty yards from the canoe, which apparently it did not see, and opening its tremendous jaws, afforded the travellers a splendid view of its teeth and throat. Briant afterwards asserted that he could see down its throat, and could _almost_ tell what it had had for dinner! "Plaze, sir, may I shoot him?" cried Briant, seizing his loaded musket, and looking towards the captain for permission. "It's of no use while in that position," remarked the trader, who regarded the hideous-looking monster with the calm unconcern of a man accustomed to such sights. "You may try;" said the captain with a grin. Almost before the words had left his lips, Phil took a rapid aim and fired. At the same identical moment the crocodile shut his jaws with a snap, as if he had an intuitive perception that something uneatable was coming. The bullet consequently hit his forehead, off which it glanced as if it had struck a plate of cast-iron. The reptile gave a wabble, expressive of lazy surprise, and sank slowly back into the slimy water. The shot startled more than one huge creature, for immediately afterwards they heard several flops in the water near them, but the tall sedges prevented their seeing what animals they were. A whole troop of monkeys, too, went shrieking away into the woods, showing that those nimble creatures had been watching all their movements, although, until that moment, they had taken good care to keep themselves out of sight. "Never fire at a crocodile's head," said the trader, as the party resumed their paddles, and continued their ascent of the stream; "you might as well fire at a stone wall. It's as hard as iron. The only place that's sure to kill it just behind the foreleg. The niggers always spear them there." "What do they spear them for?" asked Dr Hopley. "They eat 'em," replied the trader; "and the meat's not so bad after you get used to it." "Ha!" exclaimed Glynn Proctor; "I should fancy the great difficulty is to get used to it." "If you ever chance to go for a week without tasting fresh meat," replied the trader quietly, "you'll not find it so difficult as you think." That night the travellers encamped in the woods, and a wild charmingly romantic scene their night bivouac was--so thought Ailie, and so, too, would you have thought, reader, had you been there. King Bumble managed to kindle three enormous fires, for the triple purpose of keeping the party warm--for it was cold at night--of scaring away wild beasts, and of cooking their supper. These fires he fed at intervals during the whole night with huge logs, and the way in which he made the sparks fly up in among the strange big leaves of the tropical trees and parasitical plants overhead, was quite equal, if not superior, to a display of regular fireworks. Then Bumble and Glynn built a little platform of logs, on which they strewed leaves and grass, and over which they spread a curtain or canopy of broad leaves and boughs. This was Ailie's couch. It stood in the full blaze of the centre fire, and commanded a view of all that was going on in every part of the little camp; and when Ailie lay down on it after a good supper, and was covered up with a blanket, and further covered over with a sort of gauze netting to protect her from the mosquitoes, which were very numerous--when all this was done, we say, and when, in addition to this, she lay and witnessed the jovial laughter and enjoyment of His Majesty King Bumble, as he sat at the big fire smoking his pipe, and the supreme happiness of Phil Briant, and the placid joy of Tim Rokens, and the exuberant delight of Glynn, and the semi-scientific enjoyment of Dr Hopley as he examined a collection of rare plants; and the quiet comfort of the trader, and the awkward, shambling, loose-jointed pleasure of long Jim Scroggles; and the beaming felicity of her own dear father; who sat not far from her, and turned occasionally in the midst of the conversation to give her a nod--she felt in her heart that then and there she had fairly reached the very happiest moment in all her life. Ailie gazed in dreamy delight until she suddenly and unaccountably saw at least six fires, and fully half-a-dozen Bumbles, and eight or nine Glynns, and no end of fathers, and thousands of trees, and millions of sparks, all jumbled together in one vast complicated and magnificent pyrotechnic display; and then she fell asleep. It is a curious fact, and one for which it is not easy to account, that however happy you may be when you go to sleep out in the wild woods, you invariably awake in the morning in possession of a very small amount of happiness indeed. Probably it is because one in such circumstances is usually called upon to turn out before he has had enough sleep; perhaps it may be that the fires have burnt low or gone out altogether, and the gloom of a forest before sunrise is not calculated to elevate the spirits. Be this as it may, it is a fact that when Ailie was awakened on the following morning about daybreak, and told to get up, she felt sulky--positively and unmistakably sulky. We do not say that she looked sulky or acted sulkily--far from it; but she felt sulky, and that was a very uncomfortable state of things. We dwell a little on this point because we do not wish to mislead our young readers into the belief that life in the wild woods is _all_ delightful together. There are shadows as well as lights there--some of them, alas! so deep that we would not like even to refer to them while writing in a sportive vein. But it is also a fact, that when Ailie was fairly up and once more in the canoe, and when the sun began to flood the landscape with his golden light and turn the water into liquid fire, her temporary feelings of discomfort passed away, and her sensation of intense enjoyment returned. The scenery through which they passed on the second day was somewhat varied. They emerged early in the day upon the bosom of a large lake which looked almost like the ocean. Here there were immense flocks of water-fowl, and among them that strange, ungainly bird, the pelican. Here, too, there were actually hundreds of crocodiles. The lake was full of little mud islands, and on all of them these hideous and gigantic reptiles were seen basking lazily in the sun. Several shots were fired at them, but although the balls hit, they did not penetrate their thick hides, until at last one took effect in the soft part close behind the foreleg. The shot was fired by the trader, and it killed the animal instantly. It could not have been less than twenty feet long, but before they could secure it the carcass sank in deep water. "What a pity!" remarked Glynn, as the eddies circled round the spot where it had gone down. "Ah, so it is!" replied the doctor; "but he would have been rather large to preserve and carry home as a specimen." "I ax yer parding, sir," said Tim Rokens, addressing Dr Hopley; "but I'm curious to know if crocodiles has got phrenoligy?" "No doubt of it," replied the doctor, laughing. "Crocodiles have brains, and brains when exercised must be enlarged and developed, especially in the organs that are most used, hence corresponding development must take place in the skull." "I should think, doctor," remarked the captain, who was somewhat sceptical, "that their bumps of combativeness must be very large." "Probably they are," continued the doctor; "something like my friend Phil Briant here. I would venture to guess, now, that his organ of combativeness is well-developed--let me see." The doctor, who sat close beside the Irishman, caused him to pull in his paddle and submit his head for inspection. "Ah! then, don't operate on me, doctor dear! I've a mortial fear o' operations iver since me owld grandmother's pig got its foreleg took off at the hip-jint." "Hold your tongue, Paddy. Now the bump lies here--just under--eh! why, you haven't got so much as--what!" "Plaize, I think it's lost in fat, sur," remarked Briant, in a plaintive tone, as if he expected to be reprimanded for not having brought his bump of combativeness along with him. "Well," resumed the doctor, passing his fingers through Briant's matted locks, "I suppose you're not so combative as we had fancied--" "Thrue for you," interrupted Phil. "But, strange enough, I find your organ of veneration is very large, _very_ large indeed; singularly so for a man of your character; but I cannot feel it easily, you have such a quantity of hair." "Which is it, doctor dear?" inquired Phil. "This one I am pressing now." "Arrah! don't press so hard, plaze, it's hurtin' me ye are. Shure that's the place where I run me head slap up agin the spanker-boom four days ago. Av _that's_ me bump o' vineration, it wos three times as big an' twice as hard yisterday--it wos, indade." Interruptions in this world of uncertainty are not uncommon, and in the African wilds they are peculiarly frequent. The interruption which occurred on the present occasion to Dr Hopley's reply was, we need scarcely remark, exceedingly opportune. It came in the form of a hippopotamus, which rose so close to the boat that Ailie got a severe start, and Tim Rokens made a blow at its head with his paddle. It did not seem to notice the boat, but after blowing a quantity of water from its nostrils, and opening its horrible mouth as if it were yawning, it slowly sank again into the flood. "Wot an 'orrible crittur!" exclaimed Jim Scroggles, in amazement at the sight. "The howdacious willain!" remarked Rokens. "Is that another on ahead?" said Glynn, pointing to an object floating on the water about a hundred yards up the river: for they had passed the lake, and were now ascending another stream. "D'ye see it, Ailie? Look!" The object sank as he spoke, and Ailie looked round just in time to see the tail of a crocodile flop the water and follow its owner to the depths below. "Oh! oh!" exclaimed Ailie, with one of those peculiar intonations that told Glynn she saw something very beautiful, and that induced the remainder of the crew to rest on their paddles, and turn their eyes in the direction indicated. They did not require to ask what she saw, for the child's finger directed their eyes to a spot on the bank of the river, where, under the shadow of a spreading bush with gigantic leaves, stood a lovely little gazelle. The graceful creature had trotted down to the stream to drink, and did not observe the canoe, which had been on the point of rounding a bank that jutted out into the river where its progress was checked. The gazelle paused a moment, looked round to satisfy itself that no enemy was near, and then put its lips to the water. Alas! for the timid little thing! There were enemies near it and round it in all directions. There were leopards and serpents of the largest size in the woods, and man upon the river--although on this occasion it chanced that most of the men who gazed in admiration at its pretty form were friends. But its worst enemy, a crocodile, was lurking close under the mud-bank at its feet. Scarcely had its parched lips reached the stream when a black snout darted from the water, and the next instant the gazelle was struggling in the crocodile's jaws. A cry of horror burst from the men in the boat, and every man seized a musket; but before an aim could be taken the struggle was over; the monster had dived with its prey, and nothing but a few streaks of red foam floated on the troubled water. Ailie did not move. She stood with her hands tightly clasped and her eyes starting almost out of their sockets. At last her feelings found vent. She threw her arms round her father's neck, and burying her face in his bosom, burst into a passionate flood of tears. CHAPTER ELEVEN. NATIVE DOINGS, AND A CRUEL MURDER--JIM SCROGGLES SEES WONDERS, AND HAS A TERRIBLE ADVENTURE. It took two whole days and nights to restore Ailie to her wonted cheerful state of mind, after she had witnessed the death of the gazelle. But although she sang and laughed, and enjoyed herself as much as ever, she experienced the presence of a new and strange feeling, that ever after that day, tinged her thoughts and influenced her words and actions. The child had for the first time in her life experienced one of those rude shocks--one of those rough contacts with the stern realities of life which tend to deepen and intensify our feelings. The mind does not always grow by slow, imperceptible degrees, although it usually does so. There are periods in the career of every one when the mind takes, as it were, a sharp run and makes a sudden and stupendous jump out of one region of thought into another in which there are things new as well as old. The present was such an occasion to little Ailie Dunning. She had indeed seen bloody work before, in the cutting-up of a whale. But although she had been told it often enough, she did not _realise_ that whales have feelings and affections like other creatures. Besides, she had not witnessed the actual killing of the whale; and if she had, it would probably have made little impression on her beyond that of temporary excitement--not even that, perhaps, had her father been by her side. But she _sympathised_ with the gazelle. It was small, and beautiful, and lovable. Her heart had swelled the moment she saw it, and she had felt a longing desire to run up to it and throw her arms round its soft neck, so that, when she saw it suddenly struggling and crushed in the tremendous jaws of the horrible crocodile, every tender feeling in her breast was lacerated; every fibre of her heart trembled with a conflicting gush of the tenderest pity and the fiercest rage. From that day forward new thoughts began to occupy her mind, and old ideas presented themselves in different aspects. We would not have the reader suppose, for a moment, that Ailie became an utterly changed creature. To an unobservant eye--such as that of Jim Scroggles, for instance--she was the same in all respects a few days after as she had been a few hours before the event. But new elements had been implanted in her breast, or rather, seeds which had hitherto lain dormant were now caused to burst forth into plants by the All-wise Author of her being. She now _felt_ for the first time--she could not tell why--that enjoyment was _not_ the chief good in life. Of course she did not argue or think out all this clearly and methodically to herself. Her mind, on most things, material as well as immaterial, was very much what may be termed a jumble; but undoubtedly the above processes of reasoning and feeling, or something like them, were the result to Ailie of the violent death of that little gazelle. The very next day after this sad event the travellers came to a native village, at which they stayed a night, in order to rest and procure fresh provisions. The trader was well-known at this village, but the natives, all of whom were black, of course, and nearly naked, had never seen a little white girl before, so that their interest in and wonder at Ailie were quite amusing to witness. They crowded round her, laughing and exclaiming and gesticulating in a most remarkable manner, and taking special notice of her light-brown glossy hair, which seemed to fill them with unbounded astonishment and admiration; as well it might, for they had never before seen any other hair except the coarse curly wool on their own pates, and the long lank hair of the trader, which happened to be coarse and black. The child was at first annoyed by the attentions paid her, but at last she became interested in the sooty little naked children that thronged round her, and allowed them to handle her as much as they pleased, until her father led her to the residence of the chief or king of the tribe. Here she was well treated, and she began quite to like the people who were so kind to her and her friends. But she chanced to overhear a conversation between the doctor and Tim Rokens, which caused her afterwards to shrink from the negroes with horror. She was sitting on a bank picking wild-flowers some hours after the arrival of her party, and teaching several black children how to make necklaces of them, when the doctor and Rokens happened to sit down together at the other side of a bush which concealed her from their view. Tim was evidently excited, for the tones of his voice were loud and emphatic. "Yes," he said, in reply to some questions put to him by the doctor; "yes, I seed 'em do it, not ten minutes agone, with my own two eyes. Oh! but I would like to have 'em up in a row--every black villain in the place--an' a cutlass in my hand, an'--an' wouldn't I whip off their heads? No, I wouldn't; oh, no, by no means wotiver." There was something unusually fierce in Rokens' voice that alarmed Ailie. "I was jist takin' a turn," continued the sailor, "down by the creek yonder, when I heerd a great yellin' goin' on, and saw the trader in the middle of a crowd o' black fellows, a-shakin' his fists; so I made sail, of course, to lend a hand if he'd got into trouble. He was scoldin' away in the native lingo, as if he'd bin a born nigger. "`Wot's all to do?' says I. "`They're goin' to kill a little boy,' says he, quite fierce like, `'cause they took it into their heads he's bewitched.' "An' sayin' that, he sot to agin in the other lingo, but the king came up an' told him that the boy had to be killed 'cause he had a devil in him, and had gone and betwitched a number o' other people; an' before he had done speakin', up comes two fellers, draggin' the poor little boy between them. The king axed him if he wos betwitched, and the little chap--from sheer fright, I do believe--said he wos. Of coorse I couldn't understand 'em, but the trader explained it all arter. Well, no sooner had he said that, than they all gave a yell, and rushed upon the poor boy with their knives, and cut him to pieces. It's as sure as I'm sittin' here," cried Rokens, savagely, as his wrath rose again at the bare recital of the terrible deed he had witnessed. "I would ha' knocked out the king's brains there and then, but the trader caught my hand, and said, in a great fright, that if I did, it would not only cost me my life, but likely the whole party; so that cooled me, and I come away; an' I'm goin' to ax the captin wot we shud do." "We can do nothing," said the doctor sadly. "Even suppose we were strong enough to punish them, what good would it do? We can't change their natures. They are superstitious, and are firmly persuaded they did right in killing that poor boy." The doctor pondered for a few seconds, and then added, in a low voice, as if he were weighing the meaning of what he said: "Clergymen would tell us that nothing can deliver them from this bondage save a knowledge of the true God and of His Son Jesus Christ; that the Bible might be the means of curing them, if Bibles were only sent, and ministers to preach the gospel." "Then why ain't Bibles sent to 'em at once?" asked Rokens, in a tone of great indignation, supposing that the doctor was expressing his own opinion on the subject. "Is there nobody to look arter these matters in Christian lands?" "Oh, yes, there are many Bible Societies, and both Bibles and missionaries have been sent to this country; but it's a large one, and the societies tell us their funds are limited." "Then why don't they git more funds?" continued Rokens, in the same indignant tone, as his mind still dwelt upon the miseries and wickedness that he had seen, and that _might_ be prevented; "why don't they git more funds, and send out heaps o' Bibles, an' no end o' missionaries?" "Tim Rokens," said the doctor, looking earnestly into his companion's face, "if I were one of the missionaries, I might ask you how much money _you_ ever gave to enable societies to send Bibles and missionaries to foreign lands?" Tim Rokens was for once in his life completely taken aback. He was by nature a stolid man, and not easily put out. He was a shrewd man, too, and did not often commit himself. When he did, he was wont to laugh at himself, and so neutralise the laugh raised against him. But here was a question that was too serious for laughter, and yet one which he could not answer without being self-condemned. He looked gravely in the doctor's face for two minutes without speaking; then he heaved a deep sigh, and said slowly, and with a pause between each word-- "Doctor Hopley--I--never--gave--a--rap--in--all--my--life." "So then, my man," said the doctor, smiling, "you're scarcely entitled to be indignant with others." "Wot you remark, doctor, is true; I--am--not." Having thus fully and emphatically condemned himself, and along with himself all mankind who are in a similar category, Tim Rokens relapsed into silence, deliberately drew forth his pipe, filled it, lit it, and began to smoke. None of the party of travellers slept well that night, except perhaps the trader, who was accustomed to the ways of the negroes, and King Bumble, who had been born and bred in the midst of cruelties. Most of them dreamed of savage orgies, and massacres of innocent children, so that when daybreak summoned them to resume their journey, they arose and embarked with alacrity, glad to get away from the spot. During that day and the next they saw a great number of crocodiles and hippopotami, besides strange birds and plants innumerable. The doctor filled his botanical-box to bursting. Ailie filled her flower-basket to overflowing. Glynn hit a crocodile on the back with a bullet, and received a lazy stare from the ugly creature in return, as it waddled slowly down the bank on which it had been lying, and plumped into the river. The captain assisted Ailie to pluck flowers when they landed, which they did from time to time, and helped to arrange and pack them when they returned to the canoe. Tim Rokens did nothing particularly worthy of record; but he gave utterance to an immense number of sententious and wise remarks, which were listened to by Bumble with deep respect, for that sable gentleman had taken a great fancy for the bold harpooner, and treasured up all his sayings in his heart. Phil Briant distinguished himself by shooting an immense serpent, which the doctor, who cut off and retained its head, pronounced to be an anaconda. It was full twenty feet long; and part of the body was cut up, roasted, and eaten by Bumble and the trader, though the others turned from it with loathing. "It be more cleaner dan one pig, anyhow," remarked Bumble, on observing the disgust of his white friends; "an' you no objic' to eat dat." "Clainer than a pig, ye spalpeen!" cried Phil Briant; "that only shows yer benighted haithen ignerance. Sure I lived in the same cabin wid a pig for many a year--not not to mintion a large family o' cocks and hens--an' a clainer baste than that pig didn't stop in that cabin." "That doesn't say much for your own cleanliness, or that of your family," remarked Glynn. "Och! ye've bin to school, no doubt, haven't ye?" retorted Phil. "I have," replied Glynn. "Shure I thought so. It's there ye must have larned to be so oncommon cliver. Don't you iver be persuaded for to go to school, Bumble, if ye iver git the chance. It's a mighty lot o' taichin' they'd give ye, but niver a taste o' edication. Tin to wan, they'd cram ye till ye turned white i' the face, an' that wouldn't suit yer complexion, ye know, King Bumble, be no manes." As for the trader, he acted interpreter when the party fell in with negroes, and explained everything that puzzled them, and told them anecdotes without end about the natives and the wild creatures, and the traffic of the regions through which they passed. In short, he made himself generally useful and agreeable. But the man who distinguished himself most on that trip was Jim Scroggles. That lanky individual one day took it into his wise head to go off on a short ramble into the woods alone. He had been warned by the trader, along with the rest of the party, not to venture on such a dangerous thing; but being an absent man the warning had not reached his intellect although it had fallen on his ear. The party were on shore cooking dinner when he went off, without arms of any kind, and without telling whither he was bound. Indeed, he had no defined intentions in his own mind. He merely felt inclined for a ramble, and so went away, intending to be back in half-an-hour or less. But Jim Scroggles had long legs and loved locomotion. Moreover, the woods were exceedingly beautiful and fragrant, and comparatively cool: for it happened to be the coolest season of the year in that sultry region, else the party of Europeans could not have ventured to travel there at all. Wandering along beneath the shade of palm-trees and large-leaved shrubs and other tropical productions, with his hands in his breeches pockets, and whistling a variety of popular airs, which must have not a little astonished the monkeys and birds and other creatures--such of them, at least, as had any taste for or knowledge of music--Jim Scroggles penetrated much farther into the wilds than he had any intention of doing. There is no saying how far, in his absence of mind, he might have wandered, had he not been caught and very uncomfortably entangled in a mesh-work of wild vines and thorny plants that barred his further progress. Jim had encountered several such before in his walk, but had forced his way through without more serious damage than a rent or two in his shirt and pantaloons, and several severe scratches to his hands and face; but Scroggles had lived a hard life from infancy, and did not mind scratches. Now, however, he could not advance a step, and it was only by much patient labour and by the free use of his clasp-knife, that he succeeded at length in releasing himself. He left a large portion of one of the legs of his trousers and several bits of skin on the bushes, as a memorial of his visit to that spot. Jim's mind was awoken to the perception of three facts--namely, that he had made himself late for dinner; that he would be the means of detaining his party; and that he had lost himself. Here was a pretty business! Being a man of slow thought and much deliberation, he sat down on the trunk of a fallen tree, and looking up, as men usually do when soliloquising, exclaimed-- "My eye, here's a go! Wot is to be done?" A very small monkey, with an uncommonly wrinkled and melancholy cast of visage, which chanced to be seated on a branch hard by, peering down at the lost mariner, replied-- "O! o-o-o, O! o-o!" as much as to say, "Ah, my boy, that's just the question." Jim Scroggles shook his head, partly as a rebuke to the impertinent little monkey and partly as an indication of the hopelessness of his being able to return a satisfactory answer to his own question. At last he started up, exclaiming, "Wotever comes on it, there's no use o' sitting here," and walked straight forward at a brisk pace. Then he suddenly stopped, shook his head again, and said, "If I goes on like this, an' it shud turn out to be the wrong course arter all--wot'll come on't?" Being as unable to answer this question as the former, he thrust both hands into his pockets, looked at the ground and began to whistle. When he looked up again he ceased whistling very abruptly, and turned deadly pale--perhaps we should say yellow. And no wonder, for there, straight before him, not more than twenty yards off, stood a creature which, to his ignorant eyes, appeared to be a fiend incarnate, but which was in reality a large-sized and very ancient sheego monkey. It stood in an upright position like a man, and was above four feet high. It had a bald head, grey whiskers, and an intensely black wrinkled face, and, at the moment Jim Scroggles' eyes encountered it, that face was working itself into such a variety of remarkable and hideous contortions that no description, however graphic, could convey a correct notion of it to the reader's mind. Seen behind the bars of an iron cage it might, perhaps, have been laughable; but witnessed as it was, in the depths of a lonely forest, it was appalling. Jim Scroggles' knees began to shake. He was fascinated with horror. The huge ape was equally fascinated with terror. It worked its wrinkled visage more violently than ever. Jim trembled all over. In another second the sheego displayed not only all its teeth--and they were tremendous--but all its gums, and they were fearful to behold, besides being scarlet. Roused to the utmost pitch of fear, the sheego uttered a shriek that rang through the forest like a death-yell. This was the culminating point. Jim Scroggles turned and fled as fast as his long and trembling legs could carry him. The sheego, at the same instant, was smitten with an identically similar impulse. It turned, uttered another yell, and fled in the opposite direction; and thus the two ran until they were both out of breath. What became of the monkey we cannot tell; but Jim Scroggles ran at headlong speed straight before him, crashing through brake and bush, in the full belief that the sheego was in hot pursuit, until he came to a mangrove swamp; here his speed was checked somewhat, for the trees grew in a curious fashion that merits special notice. Instead of rising out of the ground, the mangroves rose out of a sea of mud, and the roots stood up in a somewhat arched form, supporting their stem, as it were, on the top of a bridge. Thus, had the ground beneath been solid, a man might have walked _under_ the roots. In order to cross the swamp, Jim Scroggles had to leap from root to root--a feat which, although difficult, he would have attempted without hesitation. But Jim was agitated at that particular moment. His step was uncertain at a time when the utmost coolness was necessary. At one point the leap from one root to the next was too great for him. He turned his eye quickly to one side to seek a nearer stem; in doing so he encountered the gaze of a serpent. It was not a large one, probably about ten feet long, but he knew it to be one whose bite was deadly. In the surprise and fear of the moment he took the long leap, came short of the root by about six inches, and alighted up to the waist in the soft mud. Almost involuntarily he cast his eyes behind him, and saw neither sheego nor serpent. He breathed more freely, and essayed to extricate himself from his unpleasant position. Stretching out his hands to the root above his head, he found that it was beyond his reach. The sudden fear that this produced caused him to make a violent struggle, and in his next effort he succeeded in catching a twig; it supported him, for a moment, then broke, and he fell back again into the mud. Each successive struggle only sank him deeper. As the thick adhesive semi-liquid clung to his lower limbs and rose slowly on his chest, the wretched man uttered a loud cry of despair. He felt that he was brought suddenly face to face with death in its most awful form. The mud was soon up to his arm-pits. As the hopelessness of his condition forced itself upon him, he began to shout for help until the dark woods resounded with his cries; but no help came, and the cold drops of sweat stood upon his brow as he shrieked aloud in agony, and prayed for mercy. CHAPTER TWELVE. JIM SCROGGLES RESCUED, AND GLYNN AND AILIE LOST--A CAPTURE, UPSET, CHASE, ESCAPE, AND HAPPY RETURN. The merciful manner in which God sends deliverance at the eleventh hour has been so often experienced and recognised, that it has originated the well-known proverb, "Man's extremity is God's opportunity;" and this proverb is true not only in reference to man's soul, but often, also, in regard to his temporal affairs. While the wretched sailor was uttering cries for help, which grew feebler every moment as he sank deeper and deeper into what now he believed should be his grave, his comrades were hastening forward to his rescue. Alarmed at his prolonged absence, they had armed themselves, and set out in search of him, headed by the trader and led by the negro, who tracked his steps with that unerring certainty which seems peculiar to all savages. The shrieks uttered by their poor comrade soon reached their ears, and after some little difficulty, owing to the cries becoming faint, and at last inaudible, they discovered the swamp where he lay, and revived his hope and energy by their shouts. They found him nearly up to the neck in mud, and the little of him that still remained above ground was scarcely recognisable. It cost them nearly an hour, with the aid of poles, and ropes extemporised out of their garments, to drag Jim from his perilous position and place him on solid ground; and after they had accomplished this, it took more than an hour longer to clean him and get him recruited sufficiently to accompany them to the spot where they had left the canoe. The poor man was deeply moved; and when he fully realised the fact that he was saved, he wept like a child, and then thanked God fervently for his deliverance. As the night was approaching, and the canoe, with Ailie in it, had been left in charge only of Glynn Proctor, Jim's recovery was expedited as much as possible, and as soon as he could walk they turned to retrace their steps. Man knows not what a day or an hour will bring forth. For many years one may be permitted to move on "the even tenor of his way," without anything of momentous import occurring to mark the passage of his little span of time as it sweeps him onward to eternity. At another period of life, events, it may be of the most startling and abidingly impressive nature, are crowded into a few months or weeks, or even days. So it was now with our travellers on the African river. When they reached the spot where they had dined, no one replied to their shouts. The canoe, Glynn, and the child were gone. On making this terrible discovery the whole party were filled with indescribable consternation, and ran wildly hither and thither, up and down the banks of the river, shouting the names of Glynn Proctor and Ailie, until the woods rang again. Captain Dunning was almost mad with anxiety and horror. His imagination pictured his child in every conceivable danger. He thought of her as drowned in the river and devoured by crocodiles; as carried away by the natives into hopeless captivity; or, perhaps, killed by wild beasts in the forest. When several hours had elapsed, and still no sign of the missing ones could be discovered, he fell down exhausted on the river's bank, and groaned aloud in his despair. But Ailie was not lost. The Heavenly Father in whom she trusted still watched over and cared for her, and Glynn Proctor's stout right arm was still by her side to protect her. About half-an-hour after the party had gone off in search of their lost companion, a large canoe, full of negroes, came sweeping down the river. Glynn and Ailie hid themselves in the bushes, and lay perfectly still, hoping they might be passed by. But they forgot that the blue smoke of their fire curled up through the foliage and revealed their presence at once. On observing the smoke, the savages gave a shout, and, running their canoe close in to the bank, leaped ashore and began to scamper through the wood like baboons. Only a few minutes passed before they discovered the two hiders, whom they surrounded and gazed upon in the utmost possible amazement, shouting the while with delight, as if they had discovered a couple of new species of monkey. Glynn was by nature a reckless and hasty youth. He felt the power of a young giant within him, and his first impulse was to leap upon the newcomers, and knock them down right and left. Fortunately, for Ailie's sake as well as his own, he had wisdom enough to know that though he had possessed the power of ten giants, he could not hope, singly, to overcome twenty negroes, all of whom were strong, active, and lithe as panthers. He therefore assumed a good-humoured free-and-easy air, and allowed himself and Ailie to be looked at and handled without ceremony. The savages were evidently not ill-disposed towards the wanderers. They laughed a great deal, and spoke to each other rapidly in what, to Glynn, was of course an unknown tongue. One who appeared to be the chief of the party passed his long black fingers through Ailie's glossy curls with evident surprise and delight. He then advanced to Glynn, and said something like-- "Holli--boobo--gaddle--bump--um--peepi--daddle--dumps." To which Glynn replied very naturally, "I don't understand you." Of course he did not. And he might have known well enough that the negro could not understand _him_. But he deemed it wiser to make a reply of some kind, however unintelligible, than to stand like a post and say nothing. Again the negro spoke, and again Glynn made the same reply; whereupon the black fellow turned round to his comrades and looked at them, and they, in reply to the look, burst again into an immoderate fit of laughter, and cut a variety of capers, the very simplest of which would have made the fortune of any merry-andrew in the civilised world, had he been able to execute it. This was all very well, no doubt, and exceedingly amusing, not to say surprising; but it became quite a different matter when, after satisfying their curiosity, these dark gentlemen coolly collected the property of the white men, stowed it away in the small canoe, and made signs to Glynn and Ailie to enter. Glynn showed a decided objection to obey, on which two stout fellows seized him by the shoulders, and pointed sternly to the canoe, as much as to say, "Hobbi-doddle-hoogum-toly-whack," which, being interpreted (no doubt) meant, "If you don't go quietly, we'll force you." Again the young sailor's spirit leaped up. He clenched his fists, his brow flushed crimson, and, in another instant, whatever might have been the consequence, the two negroes would certainly have lain recumbent on the sward, had it not suddenly occurred to Glynn that he might, by appearing to submit, win the confidence of his captors, and, at the first night-encampment, quietly make his escape with Ailie in his arms! Glynn was at that romantic age when young men have a tendency to think themselves capable of doing almost anything, with or without ordinary facilities, and in the face of any amount of adverse circumstance. He therefore stepped willingly and even cheerfully into the canoe, in which his and his comrades' baggage had been already stowed, and, seating himself in the stern, took up the steering-paddle. He was ordered to quit that post, however, in favour of a powerful negro, and made to sit in the bow and paddle there. Ailie was placed with great care in the centre of the canoe among a heap of soft leopard-skins; for the savages evidently regarded her as something worth preserving--a rare and beautiful specimen, perhaps, of the white monkey! This done, they leaped into their large canoe, and, attaching the smaller one to it by means of a rope, paddled out from the bank, and descended the stream. "Oh! Glynn," exclaimed Ailie, in a whisper--for she felt that things were beginning to look serious--"what _are_ we to do?" "Indeed, my pet, I don't know," replied Glynn, looking round and encountering the gaze of the negro in the stern, at whom he frowned darkly, and received a savage grin by way of reply. "I would like _so_ much to say something to you," continued Ailie, "but I'm afraid _he_ will know what I say." "Never fear, Ailie; he's as deaf as a post to our language. Out with it." "Could you not," she said, in a half-whisper, "cut the rope, and then paddle away back while _they_ are paddling down the river?" Glynn laughed in spite of himself at this proposal. "And what, my pretty one," he said, "what should we do with the fellow in the stern? Besides, the rascals in front might take it into their heads to paddle after us, you know, and what then?" "I'm sure I don't know," said Ailie, beginning to cry. "Now, don't cry, my darling," said Glynn, looking over his shoulder with much concern. "I'll manage to get you out of this scrape somehow--now see if I don't." The youth spoke so confidently, that the child felt somehow comforted, so drying her eyes she lay back among the leopard-skins, where, giving vent to an occasional sob, she speedily fell fast asleep. They continued to advance thus in silence for nearly an hour, crossed a small lake, and again entered the river. After descending this some time, the attention of the whole party was attracted to a group of hippopotami, gambolling in the mud-banks and in the river a short distance ahead. At any other time Glynn would have been interested in the sight of these uncouth monsters, but he had seen so many within the last few days that he was becoming comparatively indifferent to them, and at that moment he was too much filled with anxiety to take any notice of them. The creatures themselves, however, did not seem to be so utterly indifferent to the strangers. They continued their gambols until the canoes were quite near, and then they dived. Now, hippopotami, as we have before hinted, are clumsy and stupid creatures, so much so that they occasionally run against and upset boats and canoes, quite unintentionally. Knowing this, the natives in the large canoe kept a sharp look-out in order to steer clear of them. They had almost succeeded in passing the place, when a huge fellow, like a sugar-punchean, rose close to the small canoe, and grazed it with his tail. Apparently he considered this an attack made upon him by the boat, for he wheeled round in a rage, and swam violently towards it. The negro and Glynn sprang to their feet on the instant, and the former raised his paddle to deal the creature a blow on the head. Before he could do so, Glynn leaped lightly over Ailie, who had just awakened, caught the savage by the ankles, and tossed him overboard. He fell with a heavy splash just in front of the cavernous jaws of the hippopotamus! In fact, he had narrowly escaped falling head-first into the creature's open throat. The nearness of the animal at the time was probably the means of saving the negro's life, for it did not observe where he had vanished to, as he sank under its chin, and was pushed by its forelegs right under its body. In its effort to lay hold of the negro, the hippopotamus made a partial dive, and thus passed the small canoe. When it again rose to the surface the large canoe met its eye. At this it rushed, drove its hammer-like skull through the light material of which it was made, and then seizing the broken ends in its strong jaws upset the canoe, and began to rend it to pieces in its fury. Before this occurred, the crew had leaped into the water, and were now swimming madly to the shore. At the same moment Glynn cut the line that fastened the two canoes together, and seizing his paddle, urged his craft up the river as fast as possible. But his single arm could not drive it with much speed against the stream, and before he had advanced a dozen yards, one of the natives overtook him and several more followed close behind. Glynn allowed the first one to come near, and then gave him a tremendous blow on the head with the edge of the paddle. The young sailor was not in a gentle frame of mind at that time, by any means. The blow was given with a will, and would probably have fractured the skull of a white man; but that of a negro is proverbially thick. The fellow was only stunned, and fell back among his comrades, who judiciously considering that such treatment was not agreeable and ought not to be courted, put about, and made for the shore. Glynn now kept his canoe well over to the left side of the stream while the savages ran along the right bank, yelling ferociously and occasionally attempting to swim towards him, but without success. He was somewhat relieved, and sent them a shout of defiance, which was returned, of course with interest. Still he felt that his chance of escape was poor. He was becoming exhausted by the constant and violent exertion that was necessary in order to make head against the stream. The savages knew this, and bided their time. As he continued to labour slowly up, Glynn came to the mouth of a small stream which joined the river. He knew not where it might lead to, but feeling that he could not hold out much longer, he turned into it, without any very definite idea as to what he would attempt next. The stream was sluggish. He advanced more easily, and after a few strokes of the paddle doubled round a point and was hid from the eyes of the negroes, who immediately set up a yell and plunged into the river, intending to swim over; but fortunately it was much too rapid in the middle, and they were compelled to return. We say fortunately, because, had they succeeded in crossing, they would have found Glynn in the bushes of the point behind which he had disappeared, in a very exhausted state, though prepared to fight to the last with all the energy of despair. As it was, he had the extreme satisfaction of seeing his enemies, after regaining the right bank, set off at a quick run down the river. He now remembered having seen a place about two miles further down that looked like a ford, and he at once concluded his pursuers had set off to that point, and would speedily return and easily recapture him in the narrow little stream into which he had pushed. To cross the large river was impossible--the canoe would have been swamped in the rapid. But what was to hinder him from paddling close in along the side, and perhaps reach the lake while the negroes were looking for him up the small stream? He put this plan into execution at once; and Ailie took a paddle in her small hands and did her utmost to help him. It wasn't much, poor thing; but to hear the way in which Glynn encouraged her and spoke of her efforts, one would have supposed she had been as useful as a full-grown man! After a couple of hours' hard work, they emerged upon the lake, and here Glynn felt that he was pretty safe, because, in the still water, no man could swim nearly as fast as he could paddle. Besides, it was now getting dark, so he pushed out towards a rocky islet on which there were only a few small bushes, resolved to take a short rest there, and then continue his flight under cover of the darkness. While Glynn carried ashore some biscuit, which was the only thing in the boat they could eat without cooking, Ailie broke off some branches from the low bushes that covered the little rocky islet, and spread them out on a flat rock for a couch; this done, she stood on the top of a large stone and gazed round upon the calm surface of the beautiful lake, in the dark depths of which the stars twinkled as if there were another sky down there. "Now, Ailie," said Glynn, "come along and have supper. It's not a very tempting one, but we must content ourselves with hard fare and a hard bed to-night, as I dare not light a fire lest the negroes should observe it and catch us." "I'm sorry for that," replied the child; "for a fire is _so_ nice and cheery; and it helps to keep off the wild beasts, too, doesn't it?" "Well, it does; but there are no wild beasts on such a small rock as this, and the sides are luckily too steep for crocodiles to crawl up." "Shall we sleep here till morning?" asked Ailie, munching her hard biscuit and drinking her tin pannikinful of cold water with great relish, for she was very hungry. "Oh, no!" replied Glynn. "We must be up and away in an hour at farthest. So, as I see you're about done with your luxurious supper, I propose that you lie down to rest." Ailie was only too glad to accede to this proposal. She lay down on the branches, and after Glynn had covered her with a blanket, he stretched himself on a leopard-skin beside her, and both of them fell asleep in five minutes. The mosquitoes were very savage that night, but the sleepers were too much fatigued to mind their vicious attacks. Glynn slept two hours, and then he wakened with a start, as most persons do when they have arranged, before going to sleep, to rise at a certain hour. He rose softly, carried the provisions back to the canoe, and in his sleepy condition almost stepped upon the head of a huge crocodile, which, ignorant of their presence, had landed its head on the islet in order to have a snooze. Then he roused Ailie, and led her, more than half asleep, down to the beach, and lifted her into the canoe, after which he pushed off, and paddled briskly over the still waters of the star-lit lake. Ailie merely yawned during all these proceedings; said, "Dear me! is it time to--yeaow! oh, I'm _so_ sleepy;" mumbled something about papa wondering what had become of Jim Scroggles, and about her being convinced that--"yeaow!--the ship must have lost itself among the whales and monkeys;" and then, dropping her head on the leopard-skins with a deep sigh of comfort, she returned to the land of Nod. Glynn Proctor worked so well that it was still early in the morning and quite dark when he arrived at the encampment where they had been made prisoners. His heart beat audibly as he approached the dark landing-place, and observed no sign of his comrades. The moment the bow of the canoe touched the shore, he sprang over the side, and, without disturbing the little sleeper, drew it gently up the bank, and fastened the bow-rope to a tree; then he hurried to the spot where they had slept and found all the fires out except one, of which a few dull embers still remained; but no comrade was visible. It is a felicitous arrangement of our organs of sense, that where one organ fails to convey to our inward man information regarding the outward world, another often steps in to supply its place, and perform the needful duty. We have said that Glynn Proctor saw nothing of his comrades,--although he gazed earnestly all round the camp--for the very good reason that it was almost pitch-dark; but although his eyes were useless, his ears were uncommonly acute, and through their instrumentality he became cognisant of a sound. It might have been distant thunder, but was too continuous and regular for that. It might have been the distant rumbling of heavy wagons or artillery over a paved road; but there were neither wagons nor roads in those African wilds. It might have been the prolonged choking of an alligator--it might, in fact, have been _anything_ in a region like that, where _everything_, almost, was curious, and new, and strange, and wild, and unaccountable; and the listener was beginning to entertain the most uncomfortable ideas of what it probably was, when a gasp and a peculiar snort apprised him that it was a human snore!--at least, if not a human snore, it was that of some living creature which indulged to a very extravagant degree in that curious and altogether objectionable practice. Stepping cautiously forward on tip-toe, Glynn searched among the leaves all round the fire, following the direction of the sounds, but nothing was to be found; and he experienced a slight feeling of supernatural dread creeping over him, when a peculiarly loud metallic snore sounded clear above his head. Looking up, he beheld by the dull red light of the almost extinct fire, the form of Phil Briant, half-seated, half-reclining, on the branch of a tree not ten feet from the ground, and clasping another branch tightly with both arms. At that moment, Ailie, who had awakened, ran up, and caught Glynn by the hand. "Hallo! Briant!" exclaimed Glynn. A very loud snore was the reply. "Briant! Phil Briant, I say; hallo! Phil!" shouted Glynn. "Arrah! howld yer noise will ye," muttered the still sleeping man--"sno--o--o--o--re!" "A fall! a fall!--all hands ahoy! tumble up there, tumble up!" shouted Glynn, in the nautical tones which he well knew would have their effect upon his comrade. He was right. They had more than their usual effect on him. The instant he heard them, Phil Briant shouted--"Ay, ay, sir!" and, throwing his legs over the side of what he supposed to be his hammock, he came down bodily on what he supposed to be the deck with a whack that caused him to utter an involuntary but tremendous howl. "Oh! och! oh! murther! oh whirra!" he cried, as he lay half-stunned. "Oh, it's kilt I am entirely--dead as mutton at last, an' no mistake. Sure I might have knowd it--och! worse luck! Didn't yer poor owld mother tell ye, Phil, that ye'd come to a bad end--she did--" "Are ye badly hurt?" said Glynn, stooping over his friend in real alarm. At the sound of his voice Briant ceased his wails, rose into a sitting posture, shaded his eyes with his hand (a most unnecessary proceeding under the circumstances), and stared at him. "It's me, Phil; all right, and Ailie. We've escaped, and got safe back again." "It's jokin' ye are," said Briant, with the imbecile smile of a man who only half believes what he actually sees. "I'm draimin', that's it. Go away, avic, an' don't be botherin' me." "It's quite true, though, I assure you, my boy. I've managed to give the niggers the slip; and here's Ailie, too, all safe, and ready to convince you of the fact." Phil Briant looked at one and then at the other in unbounded amazement for a few seconds, after which he gave a short laugh as if of pity for his own weakness, and his face assumed a mild aspect as he said softly, "It's all a draim, av coorse it is!" He even turned away his eyes for a moment in order to give the vision time to dissipate. But on looking round again, there it was, as palpable as ever. Faith in the fidelity of his own eyesight returned in a moment, and Phil Briant, forgetting his bodily pains, sprang to his feet with a roar of joy, seized Ailie in his arms and kissed her, embraced Glynn Proctor with a squeeze like that of a loving bear, and then began to dance an Irish jig, quite regardless of the fact that the greater part of it was performed in the fire, the embers of which he sent flying in all directions like a display of fireworks. He cheered, too, now and then like a maniac--"Oh, happy day! I've found ye, have I? after all me trouble, too! Hooray! an' wan chair more for luck. Av me sowl only don't lape clane out o' me body, it's meself'll be thankful! But, sure--I'm forgittin'--" Briant paused suddenly in the midst of his uproarious dance, and seized a burning stick, which he attempted to blow into a flame with intense vehemence of action. Having succeeded, he darted towards an open space a few yards off, in the centre of which lay a large pile of dry sticks. To these he applied the lighted brand, and the next instant a glare of ruddy flame leaped upwards, and sent a shower of sparks high above the forest trees into the sky. He then returned, panting a good deal, but much composed, and said--"Now, darlints, come an' help me to gather the bits o' stick; somebody's bin scatterin' them all over the place, they have, bad luck to them! an' then ye'll sit down and talk a bit, an' tell me all about it." "But what's the fire for?" asked Ailie. "Ay, ye may say that," added Glynn; "we don't need such a huge bonfire as that to cook our supper with." "Och! be aisy, do. It'll do its work; small doubt o' that. The cap'n, poor man, ye know, is a'most deranged, an' they're every one o' them off at this good minute scourin' the woods lookin' for ye. O, then, it's sore hearts we've had this day! An' wan was sent wan way, an' wan another, an' the cap'n his-self he wint up the river, and, before he goes, he says to me, says he, `Briant, you'll stop here and watch the camp, for maybe they'll come wanderin' back to it, av they've bin and lost theirselves; an' mind ye don't lave it or go to slape. An' if they do come, or ye hear any news o' them, jist you light up a great fire, an' I'll be on the look-out, an' we'll all on us come back as fast as we can.' Now, that's the truth, an' the whole truth, an' nothin' but the truth, as the judge said to the witness when he swore at him." This was a comforting piece of information to Glynn and Ailie, so, without further delay, they assisted their overjoyed comrade to collect the scattered embers of the fire and boil the kettle. In this work they were all the more energetic that the pangs of hunger were beginning to remind them of the frugal and scanty nature of their last meal. The bonfire did its work effectually. From all parts of the forest to which they had wandered, the party came, dropping in one by one to congratulate the lost and found pair. Last of all came Captain Dunning and Tim Rokens, for the harpooner had vowed he would "stick to the cap'n through thick and thin." Tim kept his word faithfully. Through thick tangled brakes and thin mud-swamps did he follow his wretched commander that night until he could scarcely stand for fatigue, or keep his eyes open for sleep; and when the captain rushed into the camp at last, and clasped his sobbing child to his heart, Tim Rokens rushed in along with him, halted beside him, thrust his hands into his pockets, and looked on, while his eyes blinked with irresistible drowsiness, and his mud-bespattered visage beamed with excessive joy. CHAPTER THIRTEEN. PHILOSOPHICAL REMARKS ON "LIFE"--A MONKEY SHOT AND A MONKEY FOUND--JACKO DESCRIBED. "Such is life!" There is deep meaning in that expression, though it is generally applied in a bantering manner to life in all its phases, under all its peculiar and diversified circumstances. Taking a particular view of things in general, we may say of life that it is composed of diverse and miscellaneous materials--the grave and the gay; the sad and the comic; the extraordinary and the commonplace; the flat and the piquant; the heavy and the light; the religious and the profane; the bright and the dark; the shadow and the sunshine. All these, and a great deal more, similar as well as dissimilar, enter into the composition of what we familiarly term life. These elements, too, are not arranged according to order, at least, order that is perceptible to our feeble human understandings. That there does exist both order and harmony is undeniable; but we cannot see it. The elements appear to be miscellaneously intermingled--to be accidentally thrown together; yet, while looking at them in detail there seems to us a good deal of unreasonable and chaotic jumble, in regarding them as a whole, or as a series of wholes, it becomes apparent that there is a certain harmony of arrangement that may be termed kaleidoscopically beautiful; and when, in the course of events, we are called to the contemplation of something grand or lovely, followed rather abruptly by something curiously contemptible or absurd, we are tempted to give utterance to the thoughts that are too complicated and deep for rapid analysis, in the curt expression "Such is life." The physician invites his friends to a social _reunion_. He chats and laughs at the passing jest, or takes part in the music--the glee, or the comic song. A servant whispers in his ear. Ten minutes elapse, and he is standing by the bed of death. He watches the flickering flame; he endeavours to relieve the agonised frame; he wipes the cold sweat from the pale brow, and moistens the dry lips, or pours words of true, earnest, tender comfort into the ears of the bereaved. The contrast here is very violent and sudden. We have chosen, perhaps, the most striking instance of the kind that is afforded in the experience of men; yet such, in a greater or less degree, is life, in the case of every one born into this wonderful world of ours, and such, undoubtedly, it was intended to be. "There is a time for all things." We were made capable of laughing and crying; therefore, these being sinless indulgences in the abstract, we _ought_ to laugh and cry. And one of our great aims in life should be to get our hearts and affections so trained that we shall laugh and cry at the right time. It may be well to remark, in passing, that we should avoid, if possible, doing both at once. Now, such being life, we consider that we shall be doing no violence to the harmonies of life if we suddenly, and without further preface, transport the reader into the middle of next day, and a considerable distance down the river up which we have for some time been travelling. Here he (or she) will find Ailie and her father, and the whole party in fact, floating calmly and pleasantly down the stream in their canoe. "Now, this is wot I do enjoy," said Rokens, laying down his paddle and wiping the perspiration from his brow; "it's the pleasantest sort o' thing I've known since I went to sea." To judge from the profuse perspiration that flowed from his brow, and from the excessive redness of his face, one would suppose that Rokens' experience of "pleasant sort o' things" had not hitherto been either extensive or deep. But the man meant what he said, and a well-known proverb clears up the mystery--"What's one man's meat is another's poison!" Hard work, violent physical exertion, and excessive heat were Rokens' delight, and, whatever may be the opinion of flabby-muscled, flat individuals, there can be no reasonable doubt that Rokens meant it, when he added, emphatically, "It's fuss-rate; tip-top; A1 on Lloyd's, that's a fact!" Phil Briant, on hearing this, laid down his paddle, also wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his coat, and exclaimed--"Ditto, says I." Whereupon Glynn laughed, and Jim Scroggles grunted (this being _his_ method of laughing), and the captain shook his head, and said-- "P'r'aps it is, my lads, a pleasant sort o' thing, but the sooner we're out of it the better. I've no notion of a country where the natives murder poor little boys in cold blood, and carry off your goods and chattels at a moment's notice." The captain looked at Ailie as he spoke, thereby implying that she was part of the "goods and chattels" referred to. "Shure it's a fact; an' without sayin' by yer lave, too," added Briant, who had a happy facility of changing his opinion on the shortest notice to accommodate himself to circumstances. "Oh, the monkey!" screamed Ailie. Now as Ailie screamed this just as Briant ceased to speak, and, moreover, pointed, or appeared to point, straight into that individual's face, it was natural to suppose that the child was becoming somewhat personal--the more so that Briant's visage, when wrinkled up and tanned by the glare of a tropical sun, was not unlike to that of a large baboon. But every one knew that Ailie was a gentle, well-behaved creature--except, perhaps, when she was seized with one of her gleeful fits that bordered sometimes upon mischief--so that instead of supposing that she had made a personal attack on the unoffending Irishman, the boat's crew instantly directed their eyes close past Briant's face and into the recesses of the wood beyond, where they saw a sight that filled them with surprise. A large-leaved tree of the palm species overhung the banks of the river and formed a support to a wild vine and several bright-flowering parasitical plants that drooped in graceful luxuriance from its branches and swept the stream, which at that place was dark, smooth, and deep. On the top of this tree, in among the branches, sat a monkey--at least so Ailie called it; but the term ape or baboon would have been more appropriate, for the creature was a very large one, and, if the expression of its countenance indicated in any degree the feelings of its heart, also a very fierce one--an exceedingly ferocious one indeed. This monkey's face was as black as coal, and its two deep-seated eyes were, if possible, blacker than coal. Its head was bald, but the rest of its body was plentifully covered with hair. Now this monkey was evidently caught--taken by surprise--for instead of trying to escape as the canoe approached, it sat there chattering and exhibiting its teeth to a degree that was quite fiendish, not to say-- under the circumstances--unnecessary. As the canoe dropped slowly down the river, it became obvious that this monkey had a baby, for a very small and delicate creature was seen clinging round the big one's waist with its little hands grasping tightly the long hair on the mother's sides, its arms being much too short to encircle her body. Ailie's heart leapt with an emotion of tender delight as she observed that the baby monkey's face was white and sweet-looking; yes, we might even go the length of saying that, for a monkey, it was actually pretty. But it had a subdued, sorrowful look that was really touching to behold. It seemed as though that infantine monkey had, in the course of its brief career, been subjected to every species of affliction, to every imaginable kind of heart-crushing sorrow, and had remained deeply meek and humble under it all. Only for one brief instant did a different expression cross its melancholy face. That was when it first caught sight of the canoe. Then it exposed its very small teeth and gums after the fashion of its mother; but repentance seemed to follow instantly, for the sad look, mixed with a dash of timidity, resumed its place, and it buried its face in its mother's bosom. At that moment there was a loud report. A bullet whistled through the air and struck the old monkey in the breast. We are glad to say, for the credit of our sailors, that a howl of indignation immediately followed, and more than one fist was raised to smite the trader who had fired the shot. But Captain Dunning called the men to order in a peremptory voice, while every eye was turned towards the tree to observe the effect of the shot. As for Ailie, she sat breathless with horror at the cruelty of the act. The old monkey gave vent to a loud yell, clutched her breast with her hands, sprang wildly into the air, and fell to the ground. Her leap was so violent that the young one was shaken off and fell some distance from its poor mother, which groaned once or twice and then died. The baby seemed unhurt. Gathering itself nimbly up, it ran away from the men who had now landed, but who stood still, by the captain's orders, to watch its motions. Looking round, it observed its mother's form lying on the ground, and at once ran towards it and buried its little face in her breast, at which sight Ailie began to cry quietly. In a few seconds the little monkey got up and gently pawed the old one; then, on receiving no sign of recognition, it uttered a faint wail, something like "Wee-wee-wee-wee-oo!" and again hid its face in the breast of its dead parent. "Ah! the poor cratur," said Briant, in a tone of voice that betrayed his emotion. "O, why did ye kill her?" "Me ketch 'im?" said Bumble, looking inquiringly at the captain. "Oh, do!" answered Ailie, with a sob. The negro deemed this permission sufficient, for he instantly sprang forward, and throwing a piece of net over the little monkey, secured it. Now the way in which that baby monkey struggled and kicked and shrieked, when it found itself a prisoner, was perfectly wonderful to see! It seemed as if the strength of fifty little monkeys had been compressed into its diminutive body, and King Bumble had to exert all his strength in order to hold the creature while he carried it into the canoe. Once safely there and in the middle of the stream, it was let loose. The first thing it did on being set free was to give a shriek of triumph, for monkeys, like men, when at last _allowed_ to do that which they have long struggled in vain to accomplish, usually take credit for the achievement of their own success. Its next impulse was to look round at the faces of the men in search of its mother; but the poor mother was now lying dead covered with a cloth in the bottom of the canoe, so the little monkey turned from one to another with disappointment in its glance and then uttered a low wail of sorrow. Glynn Proctor affirmed positively that it looked twice at Phil Briant and even made a motion towards him; but we rather suspect that Glynn was jesting. Certain it is, however, that it looked long and earnestly at Ailie, and there is little doubt that, young though it was, it was able to distinguish something in her tender gaze of affection and pity that proved attractive. It did not, however, accept her invitation to go to her, although given in the most persuasive tones of her silver voice, and when any of the men tried to pat its head, it displayed such a row of sharp little teeth and made such a fierce demonstration of its intention to bite, that they felt constrained to leave it alone. At last Ailie held her hand towards it and said-- "Won't it come to me, dear, sweet pet? _Do_ come; I'll be as kind to you almost as your poor mother." The monkey looked at the child, but said nothing. "Come, monkey, dear puggy, _do_ come," repeated Ailie, in a still more insinuating voice. The monkey still declined to "come," but it looked very earnestly at the child, and trembled a good deal, and said, "Oo-oo-wee; oo-oo-wee!" As Ailie did not quite understand this, she said, "Poor thing!" and again held out her hand. "Try it with a small taste o' mate," suggested Briant. "Right," said the captain. "Hand me the biscuit-bag, Glynn. There, now, Ailie, try it with that." Ailie took the piece of biscuit offered to her by her father, and held it out to the monkey, who advanced with nervous caution, and very slowly, scratching its side the while. Putting out its very small hand, it touched the biscuit, then drew back the hand suddenly, and made a variety of sounds, accompanied by several peculiar contortions of visage, all of which seemed to say, "Don't hurt me, now; _don't_ deceive me, pray." Again it put forth its hand, and took the biscuit, and ate it in a very great hurry indeed; that is to say, it stuffed it into the bags in its cheeks. Ailie gave it a bit more biscuit, which it received graciously, and devoured voraciously; whereupon she put forth her hand, and sought to pat the little creature on the head. The attempt was successful. With many slight grins, as though to say, "Take care, now, else I'll bite," the small monkey allowed Ailie to pat its head and stroke its back. Then it permitted her to take hold of its hand, and draw it towards her. In a few minutes it showed evident symptoms of a desire to be patted again, and at length it drew timidly towards the child, and took hold of her hand in both of its delicate pink paws. Ailie felt quite tenderly towards the creature, and stroked its head again, whereupon it seemed suddenly to cast aside all fear. It leaped upon her knee, put its slender arms as far round her neck as possible, said "Oo-oo-wee!" several times in a very sad tone of voice, and laid its head upon her bosom. This was too much for poor Ailie; she thought of the dead mother of this infant monkey, and wept as she stroked its hairy little head and shoulders. From that time forward the monkey adopted Ailie as its mother, and Ailie adopted the monkey as her child. Now the behaviour of that monkey during the remainder of that voyage was wonderful. Oh, you know, it was altogether preposterous, to say the very least of it. Affection, which displayed itself in a desire to conciliate the favour of every one, was ingrained in its bones; while deception, which was evinced in a constant effort to appear to be intent upon one thing, when it was really bent upon another, was incorporated with its marrow! At first it was at war with every one, excepting, of course, Ailie, its adopted mother; but soon it became accustomed to the men, and in the course of a few days would go to any one who called it. Phil Briant was a particular favourite; so was Rokens, with whose black beard it played in evident delight, running its slender fingers through it, disentangling the knots and the matted portions which the owner of the beard had never yet been able to disentangle in a satisfactory way for himself; and otherwise acting the part of a barber and hairdresser to that bold mariner, much to his amusement, and greatly to the delight and admiration of the whole party. To say that that small monkey had a face, would be to assert what was unquestionably true, but what, also, was very far short of the whole truth. No one ever could make up his mind exactly as to how many faces it had. If you looked at it at any particular time, and then shut your eyes and opened them a moment after, that monkey, as far as expression went, had another and a totally different face. Repeat the operation, and it had a third face; continue the process, and it had a fourth face; and so on, until you lost count altogether of its multitudinous faces. Now it was grave and pensive; anon it was blazing with amazement; again it bristled with indignation; then it glared with anger, and presently it was all serene--blended love and wrinkles. Of all these varied expressions, that of commingled surprise and indignation was the most amusing, because these emotions had the effect of not only opening its eyes and its mouth to the form of three excessively round O's, but also raised a small tuft of hair just above its forehead into a bristling position, and threw its brow into an innumerable series of wrinkles. This complex expression was of frequent occurrence, for its feelings were tender and sensitive, so that it lived in the firm belief that its new friends (always excepting Ailie) constantly wished to insult it; and was afflicted with a chronic state of surprise at the cruelty, and of indignation at the injustice, of men who could wantonly injure the feelings of so young, and especially so small a monkey. When the men called it, it used to walk up to them with calm, deliberate condescension in its air; when Ailie held out her hand, it ran on its two legs, and being eager in its affections, it held out its arms in order to be caught up. As to food, that monkey was not particular. It seemed to be omnivorous. Certain it is that it never refused anything, but more than once it was observed quietly to throw away things that it did not relish. Once, in an unguarded moment, it accepted and chewed a small piece of tobacco; after which it made a variety of entirely new faces, and became very sick indeed--so sick that its adopted mother began to fear she was about to lose her child; but after vomiting a good deal, and moaning piteously for several days, it gradually recovered, and from that time entertained an unquenchable hatred for tobacco, and for the man who had given it to him, who happened to be Jim Scroggles. Ailie, being of a romantic temperament, named her monkey Albertino, but the sailors called him Jacko, and their name ultimately became the well-known one of the little foundling, for Ailie was not obstinate; so, seeing that the sailors did not or could not remember Albertino, she soon gave in, and styled her pet Jacko to the end of the chapter, with which piece of information we shall conclude _this_ chapter. CHAPTER FOURTEEN. RENCONTRE WITH SLAVE-TRADERS--ON BOARD AGAIN--A START, A MISFORTUNE, A GHOST STORY, A MISTAKE, AND AN INVITATION TO DINNER. On the evening of the second day after the capture of Jacko, as the canoe was descending the river and drawing near to the sea-coast, much to the delight of everyone--for the heat of the interior had begun to grow unbearable--a ship's boat was observed moored to the wharf near the slave-station which they had passed on the way up. At first it was supposed to be one of the boats of the _Red Eric_, but on a nearer approach this proved to be an erroneous opinion. "Wot can it be a-doin' of here?" inquired Tim Rokens, in an abstracted tone of voice, as if he put the question to himself, and therefore did not expect an answer. "No doubt it's a slaver's boat," replied the trader; "they often come up here for cargoes of niggers." "Och! the blackguards!" exclaimed Phil Briant, all his blood rising at the mere mention of the horrible traffic; "couldn't we land, capting, and give them a lickin'? I'll engage meself to put six at laste o' the spalpeens on their beam-ends." "No, Phil, we shan't land for that purpose; but we'll land for some gunpowder an' a barrel or two of plantains; so give way, lads." In another moment the bow of the canoe slid upon the mud-bank of the river close to the slaver's boat, which was watched by a couple of the most villainous-looking men that ever took part in that disgraceful traffic. They were evidently Portuguese sailors, and the scowl of their bronzed faces, when they saw the canoe approach the landing-place, showed that they had no desire to enter into amicable converse with the strangers. At this moment the attention of the travellers was drawn to a gang of slaves who approached the wharf, chained together by the neck, and guarded by the crew of the Portuguese boat. Ailie looked on with a feeling of dread that induced her to cling to her father's hand, while the men stood with folded arms, compressed lips, and knitted brows. On the voyage up they had landed at this station, and had seen the slaves in their places of confinement. The poor creatures were apparently happy at that time, and seemed totally indifferent to their sad fate; but their aspect was very different now. They were being hurried away, they knew not whither, by strangers whom they had been taught to believe were monsters of cruelty besides being cannibals, and who had purchased them for the purpose of killing them and eating their bodies. The wild, terrified looks of the men, and the subdued looks and trembling gait of the women showed that they expected no mercy at the hands of their captors. They hung back a little as they drew near to the boat, whereupon one of their conductors, who seemed to be in command of the party, uttered a fierce exclamation in Portuguese, and struck several of the men and women indiscriminately severe blows with his fists. In a few minutes they were all placed in the boat, and the crew had partly embarked, when Phil Briant, unable to restrain himself, muttered between his teeth to the Portuguese commander as he passed-- "Ye imp o' darkness, av I only had ye in the ring for tshwo minits--jist tshwo--ah thin, wouldn't I polish ye off." "Fat you say, sare?" cried the man, turning fiercely towards Briant, and swearing at him in bad English. "Say, is it? Oh, then _there's_ a translation for ye, that's understood in all lingos." Phil shook his clenched fist as close as possible to the nose of the Portuguese commander without actually coming into contact with that hooked and prominent organ. The man started back and drew his knife, at the same time calling to several of his men, who advanced with their drawn knives. "Ho!" cried Briant, and a jovial smile overspread his rough countenance as he sprang to a clear spot of ground and rolled up both sleeves of his shirt to the shoulders, thereby displaying a pair of arms that might, at a rapid glance, have been mistaken for a pair of legs--"that's yer game, is it? won't I stave in yer planks! won't I shiver yer timbers, and knock out yer daylights, bless yer purty faces! I didn't think ye had it in ye; come on darlints--toothpicks and all--as many as ye like; the more the better--wan at a time, or all at wance, it don't matter, not the laste, be no manes!" While Briant gave utterance to these liberal invitations, he performed a species of revolving dance, and flourished his enormous fists in so ludicrous a manner, that despite the serious nature of the fray the two parties were likely to be speedily engaged in, his comrades could not restrain their laughter. "Go it, Pat!" cried one. "True blue!" shouted another. "Silence!" cried Captain Dunning, in a voice that enforced obedience. "Get into the canoe, Briant." "Och! capting," exclaimed the wrathful Irishman, reproachfully, "sure ye wouldn't spile the fun?" "Go to the canoe, sir." "Ah! capting dear, jist wan round!" "Go to the canoe, I say." "I'll do it all in four minits an' wan quarter, av ye'll only shut yer eyes," pleaded Phil. "Obey orders, will you?" cried the captain, in a voice there was no mistaking. Briant indignantly thrust his fists into his breeches pockets, and rolled slowly down towards the canoe, as--to use one of his own favourite expressions--sulky as a bear with a broken head. Meanwhile the captain stepped up to the Portuguese sailors and told them to mind their own business, and let _honest_ men alone; adding, that if they did not take his advice, he would first give them a licking and then pitch them all into the river. This last remark caused Briant to prick up his ears and withdraw his fists from their inglorious retirement, in the fond hope that there might still be work for them to do; but on observing that the Portuguese, acting on the principle that discretion is the better part of valour, had taken the advice and were returning to their own boat, he relapsed into the sulks, and seated himself doggedly in his place in the canoe. During all this little scene, which was enacted much more rapidly than it had been described, master Jacko, having escaped from the canoe, had been seated near the edge of the wharf, looking on, apparently, with deep interest. Just as the Portuguese turned away to embark in their boat, Ailie's eye alighted on her pet; at the same moment the foot of the Portuguese commander alighted on her pet's tail. Now the tails of all animals seem to be peculiarly sensitive. Jacko's certainly was so, for he instantly uttered a shriek of agony, which was as quickly responded to by its adopted mother in a scream of alarm as she sprang forward to the rescue. When one unintentionally treads on the tail of any animal and thereby evokes a yell, he is apt to start and trip--in nine cases out of ten he does trip. The Portuguese commander tripped upon this occasion. In staggering out of the monkey's way he well-nigh tumbled over Ailie, and in seeking to avoid her, he tumbled over the edge of the wharf into the river. The difference between the appearance of this redoubtable slave-buying hero before and after his involuntary immersion was so remarkable and great that his most intimate friend would have failed to recognise him. He went down into the slimy liquid an ill-favoured Portuguese, clad in white duck; he came up a worse-favoured monstrosity, clothed in mud! Even his own rascally comrades grinned at him for a moment, but their grins changed into a scowl of anger when they heard the peals of laughter that burst from the throats of their enemies. As for Briant, he absolutely hugged himself with delight. "Och! ye've got it, ye have," he exclaimed, at intervals. "Happy day! who'd ha' thought it? to see him tumbled in the mud after all by purty little Ailie and Jacko. Come here to me Jacko, owld coon. Oh, ye swate cratur!" Briant seized the monkey, and squeezed it to his breast, and kissed it-- yes, he actually kissed its nose in the height of his glee, and continued to utter incoherent exclamations, and to perpetrate incongruous absurdities, until long after they had descended the river and left the muddy Portuguese and his comrades far behind them. Towards evening the party were once more safe and sound on board the _Red Eric_, where they found everything repaired, and the ship in a fit state to proceed to sea immediately. His Majesty King Bumble was introduced to the steward, then to the cook, and then to the caboose. Master Jacko was introduced to the ship's crew and to his quarters, which consisted of a small box filled with straw, and was lashed near the foot of the mizzen-mast. These introductions having been made, the men who had accompanied their commander on his late excursion into the interior, went forward and regaled their messmates for hours with anecdotes of their travels in the wilds of Africa. It is well-known, and generally acknowledged, that all sublunary things, pleasant as well as unpleasant, must come to an end. In the course of two days more the sojourn of the crew of the _Red Eric_ on the coast of Africa came to a termination. Having taken in supplies of fresh provisions, the anchor was weighed, and the ship stood out to sea with the first of the ebb tide. It was near sunset when the sails were hoisted and filled by a gentle land breeze, and the captain had just promised Ailie that he would show her blue water again by breakfast-time next morning, when a slight tremor passed through the vessel's hull, causing the captain to shout, with a degree of vigour that startled everyone on board, "All hands ahoy! lower away the boats, Mr Millons, we're hard and fast aground on a mud-bank!" The boats were lowered away with all speed, and the sails dewed up instantly, but the _Red Eric_ remained as immovable as the bank on which she had run aground; there was, therefore, no recourse but to wait patiently for the rising tide to float her off again. Fortunately the bank was soft and the wind light, else it might have gone ill with the good ship. There is scarcely any conceivable condition so favourable to quiet confidential conversation and story-telling as the one in which the men of the whale-ship now found themselves. The night was calm and dark, but beautiful, for a host of stars sparkled in the sable sky, and twinkled up from the depths of the dark ocean. The land breeze had fallen, and there was scarcely any sound to break the surrounding stillness except the lipping water as it kissed the black hull of the ship. A dim, scarce perceptible light rendered every object on board mysterious and unaccountably large. "Wot a night for a ghost story," observed Jim Scroggles, who stood with a group of the men, who were seated on and around the windlass. "I don't b'lieve in ghosts," said Dick Barnes stoutly, in a tone of voice that rendered the veracity of his assertion, to say the least of it, doubtful. "Nother do I," remarked Nikel Sling, who had just concluded his culinary operations for the day, and sought to employ his brief interval of relaxation in social intercourse with his fellows. Being engaged in ministering to the animal wants of his comrades all day, he felt himself entitled to enjoy a little of the "feast of reason and the flow of soul" at night: "No more duv I," added Phil Briant firmly, at the same time hitting his thigh a slap with his open hand that caused all round him to start. "You don't, don't you?" said Tim Rokens, addressing the company generally, and looking round gravely, while he pushed the glowing tobacco into his pipe with the point of a marline-spike. To this there was a chorus of "Noes," but a close observer would have noticed that nearly the whole conversation was carried on in low tones, and that many a glance was cast behind, as if these bold sceptics more than half expected all the ghosts that did happen to exist to seize them then and there and carry them off as a punishment for their unbelief. Tim Rokens drew a few whiffs of his pipe, and looked round gravely before he again spoke; then he put the following momentous question, with the air of a man who knew he could overturn his adversary whatever his reply should be-- "An' why don't ye b'lieve in 'em?" We cannot say positively that Tim Rokens put the question to Jim Scroggles, but it is certain that Jim Scroggles accepted the question as addressed to him, and answered in reply-- "'Cause why? I never seed a ghost, an' nobody never seed a ghost, an' I don't b'lieve in what I can't see." Jim said this as if he thought the position incontestable. Tim regarded him with a prolonged stare, but for some time said nothing. At last he emitted several strong puffs of smoke, and said-- "Young man, did you ever _see_ your own mind?" "No, in course not." "Did anybody else ever see it?" "Cer'nly not." "Then of course you don't believe in it!" added Rokens, while a slight smile curled his upper lip. The men chuckled a good deal at Jim's confusion, while he in vain attempted to explain that the two ideas were not parallel by any means. At this juncture, Phil Briant came to the rescue. "Ah now, git out," said he. "I agree with Jim intirely; an' Tim Rokens isn't quite so cliver as he thinks. Now look here, lads, here's how it stands, 'xactly. Jim says he never seed his own mind--very good; and he says as how nobody else niver seed it nother; well, and wot then? Don't you observe it's 'cause he han't got none at all to see? He han't got even the ghost of one, so how could ye expect anybody to see it?" "Oh, hold yer noise, Paddy," exclaimed Dick Barnes, "an' let's have a ghost story from Tim Rokens. He b'lieves in ghosts, anyhow, an' could give us a yarn about 'em, I knows, if he likes. Come along now, Tim, like a good fellow." "Ay, that's it," cried Briant; "give us a stiff 'un now. Don't be afeard to skear us, old boy." "Oh, I can give ye a yarn about ghosts, cer'nly," said Tim Rokens, looking into the bowl of his pipe in order to make sure that it was sufficiently charged to last out the story. "I'll tell ye of a ghost I once seed and knocked down." "Knocked down!" cried Nikel Sling in surprise; "why, I allers thought as how ghosts was spirits, an' couldn't be knocked down or cotched neither." "Not at all," replied Rokens; "ghosts is made of all sorts o' things-- brass, and iron, and linen, and buntin', and timber; it wos a brass ghost the feller that I'm goin' to tell ye about--" "I say, Sling," interrupted Briant, "av ghosts wos spirits, as you thought they wos, would they be allowed into the State of Maine?" "Oh, Phil, shut up, do! Now then, Tim, fire away." "Well, then," began Rokens, with great deliberation, "it was on a Vednesday night as it happened. I had bin out at supper with a friend that night, and we'd had a glass or two o' grog; for ye see, lads, it was some years ago, afore I tuk to temp'rance. I had a long way to go over a great dark moor afore I could git to the place where I lodged, so I clapped on all sail to git over the moor, seein' the moon would go down soon; but it wouldn't do: the moon set when I wos in the very middle of the moor, and as the road wasn't over good, I wos in a state o' confumble lest I should lose it altogether. I looks round in all directions, but I couldn't see nothin'--cause why? there wasn't nothin' to be seen. It was 'orrid dark, I can tell ye. Jist one or two stars a-shinin', like half-a-dozen farden dips in a great church; they only made darkness wisible. I began to feel all over a cur'ous sort o' peculiar unaccountableness, which it ain't easy to explain, but is most oncommon disagreeable to feel. It wos very still, too--desperate still. The beatin' o' my own heart sounded quite loud, and I heer'd the tickin' o' my watch goin' like the click of a church clock. Oh, it was awful!" At this point in the story the men crept closer together, and listened with intense earnestness. "Suddently," continued Rokens--"for things in sich circumstances always comes suddently--suddently I seed somethin' black jump up right ahead o' me." Here Rokens paused. "Wot was it?" inquired Gurney, in a solemn whisper. "It was," resumed Rokens slowly, "the stump of a old tree." "Oh, I thought it had been the ghost," said Gurney, somewhat relieved, for that fat little Jack-tar fully believed in apparitions, and always listened to a ghost story in fear and trembling. "No it wasn't the ghost; it was the stump of a tree. Well, I set sail again, an' presently I sees a great white thing risin' up ahead o' me." "Hah! _that_ was it," whispered Gurney. "No, that wasn't it," retorted Rokens; "that was a hinn, a white-painted hinn, as stood by the roadside, and right glad wos I to see it, I can tell ye, shipmates, for I wos gittin' tired as well as frightened. I soon roused the landlord by kickin' at the door till it nearly comed off its hinges; and arter gettin' another glass o' grog, I axed the landlord to show me my bunk, as I wanted to turn in. "It was a queer old house that hinn wos. A great ramblin' place, with no end o' staircases and passages. A dreadful gloomy sort o' place. No one lived in it except the landlord, a dark-faced surly fellow as one would like to kick out of his own door, and his wife, who wos little better than his-self. They also had a hostler, but he slept with the cattle in a hout-house. "`Ye won't be fear'd,' says the landlord, as he hove ahead through the long passages holdin' the candle high above his head to show the way, `to sleep in the far end o' the house. It's the old bit; the new bit's undergoin' repairs. You'll find it comfortable enough, though it's raither gusty, bein' old, ye see; but the weather ain't cold, so ye won't mind it.' "`Oh! niver a bit,' says I, quite bold like; `I don't care a rap for nothin'. There ain't no ghosts, is there?' "`Well, I'm not sure; many travellers wot has stayed here has said to me they've seed 'em, particklerly in the old part o' the buildin', but they seems to be quite harmless, and never hurts any one as lets 'em alone. I never seed 'em myself, an' there's cer'nly not more nor half-a-dozen on 'em--hallo!--' "At that moment, shipmates, a strong gust o' cold air came rushin' down the passage we was in, and blow'd out the candle. `Ah! it's gone out,' said the landlord; `just wait here a moment, and I'll light it;' and with that he shuffled off, and left me in the blackest and most thickest darkness I ever wos in in all my life. I didn't dare to move, for I didn't know the channels, d'ye see, and might ha' run myself aground or against the rocks in no time. The wind came moanin' down the passage; as if all the six ghosts the landlord mentioned, and a dozen or two o' their friends besides, was a-dyin' of stommick-complaint. I'm not easy frightened, lads, but my knees did feel as if the bones in 'em had turned to water, and my hair began to git up on end, for I felt it risin'. Suddenly I saw somethin' comin' along the passage towards me--" "That's the ghost, _now_," interrupted Gurney, in a tremulous whisper. Rokens paused, and regarded his fat shipmate with a look of contemptuous pity; then turning to the others, he said-- "It wos _the landlord_, a-comin' back with the candle. He begged pardon for leavin' me in the dark so long, and led the way to a room at the far end o' the passage. It was a big, old-fashioned room, with a treemendius high ceiling, and no furniture, 'cept one chair, one small table, and a low camp-bed in a corner. `Here's your room,' says the landlord; `it's well-aired. I may as well mention that the latch of the door ain't just the thing. It sometimes blows open with a bang, but when you know it may happen, you can be on the look-out for it, you know, and so you'll not be taken by surprise. Good-night.' With that the fellow set the candle down on the small table at the bedside, and left me to my cogitations. I heerd his footsteps echoin' as he went clankin' along the passages; then they died away, an' I was alone. "Now, I tell ye wot it is, shipmates; I've bin in miny a fix, but I niver wos in sich a fix as that. The room was empty and big; so big that the candle could only light up about a quarter of it, leavin' the rest in gloom. There was one or two old picturs on the walls; one on 'em a portrait of a old admiral, with a blue coat and brass buttons and white veskit. It hung just opposite the fut o' my bunk, an' I could hardly make it out, but I saw that the admiral kep his eye on me wheriver I turned or moved about the room, an' twice or thrice, if not more, I saw him wink with his weather eye. Yes, he winked as plain as I do myself. Says I to myself, says I, `Tim Rokens, you're a British tar, an' a whaler, an' a harpooner; so, Tim, my boy, don't you go for to be a babby.' "With that I smoked a pipe, and took off my clo's, and tumbled in, and feeling a little bolder by this time, I blew out the candle. In gittin' into bed I knocked over the snuffers, w'ich fell with an awful clatter, and my heart lep' into my mouth as I lep' under the blankets, and kivered up my head. Howsever, I was uncommon tired, so before my head was well on the pillow, I went off to sleep. "How long I slep' I can't go for to say, but w'en I wakened it wos pitch-dark. I could only just make out the winder by the pale starlight that shone through it, but the moment I set my two eyes on it, wot does I see? I seed a sight that made the hair on my head stand on end, and my flesh creep up like a muffin. It was a--" "A ghost!" whispered Gurney, while his eyes almost started out of his head. Before Tim Rokens could reply, something fell with a heavy flop from the yard over their heads right in among the men, and vanished with a shriek. It was Jacko, who, in his nocturnal rambles in the rigging, had been shaken off the yard on which he was perched, by a sudden lurch of the vessel as the tide began to move her about. At any time such an event would have been startling, but at such a time as this it was horrifying. The men recoiled with sharp cries of terror, and then burst into laughter as they observed what it was that had fallen amongst them. But the laughter was subdued, and by no means hearty. "I'll be the death o' that brute yet," said Gurney, wiping the perspiration from his forehead; "but go on, Rokens; what was it you saw?" "It _was_ the ghost," replied Rokens, as the men gathered round him again--"a long, thin ghost, standin' at my bedside. The light was so dim that I couldn't well make it out, but I saw that it was white, or pale-like, and that it had on a pointed cap, like the cap o' an old witch. I thought I should ha' died outright, and I lay for full five minits tremblin' like a leaf and starin' full in its face. At last I started up in despair, not knowin' well wot to do; and the moment I did so the ghost disappeared. "I thought this was very odd, but you may be sure I didn't find fault with it; so after lookin' all round very careful to make quite sure that it was gone, I lay down again on my back. Well, would ye b'lieve it, shipmates, at that same moment up starts the ghost again as bold as iver? And up starts I in a fright; but the moment I was up the ghost was gone. `Now, Tim Rokens,' says I to myself, always keepin' my eye on the spot where I'd last seed the ghost, `this _is_ queer; this is quite remarkable. You're dreamin', my lad, an' the sooner ye put a stop to that 'ere sort o' dreamin' the better.' "Havin' said this, I tried to feel reckless, and lay down again, and up started the ghost again with its long thin white body, an' the pointed cap on its head. I noticed, too, that it wore its cap a little on one side quite jaunty like. So, wheniver I sot up that 'ere ghost disappeared, and wheniver I lay down it bolted up again close beside me. At last I lost my temper, and I shouts out quite loud, `Shiver my timbers,' says I, `ghost or no ghost, I'll knock in your daylights if ye carry on like that any longer;' and with that I up fist and let drive straight out at the spot where its bread-basket should ha' bin. Down it went, that ghost did, with a clatter that made the old room echo like an empty church. I guv it a rap, I did, sich as it hadn't had since it was born--if ghosts be born at all--an' my knuckles paid for it, too, for they was skinned all up; then I lay down tremblin', and then, I dun know how it was, I went to sleep. "Next mornin' I got up to look for the ghost, and, sure enough, I found his _remains_! His pale body lay in a far corner o' the room doubled up and smashed to bits, and his pointed cap lay in another corner almost flat. That ghost," concluded Rokens, with slow emphasis--"that ghost was the _candle_, it wos!" "The candle!" exclaimed several of the men in surprise. "Yes, the candle, and brass candlestick with the stinguisher a-top o't. Ye see, lads, the candle stood close to the side o' my bed on the table, an' when I woke up and I saw it there, it seemed to me like a big thing in the middle o' the room, instead o' a little thing close to my nose; an' when I sot up in my bed, of coorse I looked right over the top of it and saw nothin'; an' when I lay down, of coorse it rose up in the very same place. An', let me tell you, shipmates," added Tim, in conclusion, with the air of a philosopher, "_all_ ghosts is o' the same sort. They're most of 'em made o' wood or brass, or some sich stuff, as I've good cause to remimber, for I had to pay the price o' that 'ere ghost before I left that there hinn on the lonesome moor, and for the washin' of the blankets, too, as wos all kivered with blood nixt mornin' from my smashed knuckles. There's a morial contained in most things, lads, if ye only try for to find it out; an' the morial of my story is this-- don't ye go for to b'lieve that everything ye don't 'xactly understand is a ghost until ye've got to know more about it." While Tim Rokens was thus recounting his ghostly experiences, and moralising thereon, for the benefit of his comrades, the silent tide was stealthily creeping up the sides of the _Red Eric_, and placing her gradually on an even keel. At the same time a British man-of-war was creeping down upon that innocent vessel with the murderous intention of blowing her out of the water, if possible. In order to explain this latter fact, we must remind the reader of the boat and crew of the Portuguese slaver which was encountered by the party of excursionists on their trip down the river. The vessel to which that boat belonged had been for several weeks previous creeping about off the coast, watching her opportunity to ship a cargo of slaves, and at the same time to avoid falling into the hands of a British cruiser which was stationed on the African coast to prevent the villainous traffic. The Portuguese ship, which was very similar in size and shape to the _Red Eric_, had hitherto managed to elude the cruiser, and had succeeded in taking a number of slaves on board ere she was discovered. The cruiser gave chase to her on the same afternoon as that on which the _Red Eric_ grounded on the mud-bank off the mouth of the river. Darkness, however, favoured the slaver, and when the land breeze failed, she was lost sight of in the intricacies of the navigation at that part of the coast. Towards morning, while it was yet dark, the _Red Eric_ floated, and Captain Dunning, who had paced the deck all night with a somewhat impatient tread, called to the mate--"Now, Mr Millons, man the boats, and let some of the hands stand-by to trim the sails to the first puff of wind." "Ay, ay, sir," answered the mate, as he sprang to obey. Now it is a curious fact, that at that identical moment the captain of the cruiser addressed his first lieutenant in precisely the same words, for he had caught a glimpse of the whaler's topmasts against the dark sky, and mistook them, very naturally, for those of the slaver. In a few seconds the man-of-war was in full pursuit. "I say, Dr Hopley," remarked Captain Dunning, as he gazed intently into the gloom astern, "did you not hear voices? and, as I live, there's a large ship bearing right down on us!" "It must be a slaver," replied the doctor; "probably the one that owned the boat we saw up the river." "Ship on the larboard bow!" shouted the look-out on the forecastle. "Hallo! ships ahead and astern!" remarked the captain, in surprise. "There seems to be a `school' of 'em in these waters." At this moment the oars of the boats belonging to the ship astern were heard distinctly, and a light puff of wind at the same time bulged out the sails of the _Red Eric_, which instantly forged ahead. "Ship ahoy!" shouted a voice from the boats astern in a tone of authority; "heave-to, you rascal, or I'll sink you!" Captain Dunning turned to the doctor with a look of intense surprise. "Why, doctor, that's the usual hail of a pirate, or something like it. What it can be doing here is past my comprehension. I would as soon expect to find a whale in a wash-tub as a black flag in these waters! Port, port a little" (turning to the steersman)--"steady--so. We must run for it, anyhow, for we're in no fightin' trim. The best answer to give to such a hail is silence." Contrary to expectation the boats did not again hail, but in a few minutes the dark hull of the British cruiser became indistinctly visible as it slipped swiftly through the water before the freshening breeze, and neared the comparatively slow-going whaler rapidly. Soon it came within easy range, and while Captain Dunning looked over the taffrail with a troubled countenance, trying to make her out, the same voice came hoarsely down on the night breeze issuing the same peremptory command. "Turn up the hands, Mr Millons, and serve out pistols and cutlasses. Get the carronades on the forecastle and quarterdeck loaded, Mr Markham, and look alive; we must show the enemy a bold front, whoever he is." As the captain issued these orders, the darkness was for an instant illuminated by a bright flash; the roar of a cannon reverberated over the sea; a round-shot whistled through the rigging of the _Red Eric_, and the next instant the foretopsail-yard came rattling down upon the deck. Immediately after, the cruiser ranged up alongside, and the order to heave-to was repeated with a threat that was calculated to cause the hair of a man of peace to stand on end. The effect on Captain Dunning was to induce him to give the order-- "Point the guns there, lads, and aim high; I don't like to draw first blood--even of a pirate." "Ship ahoy! Who are you, and where from?" inquired Captain Dunning, through the speaking-trumpet. "Her British Majesty's frigate _Firebrand_. If you don't heave-to, sir, instantly, I'll give you a broadside. Who are you, and where bound?" "Whew!" whistled Captain Dunning, to vent his feelings of surprise ere he replied, "The _Red Eric_, South Sea whaler, outward bound." Having given this piece of information, he ordered the topsails to be backed, and the ship was hove-to. Meanwhile a boat was lowered from the cruiser, and the captain thereof speedily leaped upon the whaler's quarterdeck. The explanation that followed was not by any means calculated to allay the irritation of the British captain. He had made quite sure that the _Red Eric_ was the slaver of which he was in search, and the discovery of his mistake induced him to make several rather severe remarks in reference to the crew of the _Red Eric_ generally and her commander in particular. "Why didn't you heave-to when I ordered you," he said, "and so save all this trouble and worry?" "Because," replied Captain Dunning drily, "I'm not in the habit of obeying orders until I know that he who gives 'em has a right to do so. But 'tis a pity to waste time talking about such trifles when the craft you are in search of is not very far away at this moment." "What mean you, sir?" inquired the captain of the cruiser quickly. "I mean that yonder vessel, scarcely visible now on the lee bow, is the slaver, in all likelihood." The captain gave but one hasty glance in the direction pointed to by Captain Dunning, and next moment he was over the side of the ship, and the boat was flying swiftly towards his vessel. The rapid orders given on board the cruiser soon after, showed that her commander was eagerly in pursuit of the strange vessel ahead, and the flash and report of a couple of guns proved that he was again giving orders in his somewhat peremptory style. When daylight appeared, Captain Dunning was still on deck, and Glynn Proctor stood by the wheel. The post of the latter, however, was a sinecure, as the wind had again fallen. When the sun rose it revealed the three vessels lying becalmed within a short distance of each other and several miles off shore. "So, so," exclaimed the captain, taking the glass and examining the other vessels. "I see it's all up with the slaver. Serves him right; don't it, Glynn?" "It does," replied Glynn emphatically. "I hope they will all be hanged. Isn't that the usual way of serving these fellows out?" "Well, not exactly, lad. They don't go quite that length--more's the pity; if they did, there would be less slave-trading; but the rascals will lose both ship and cargo." "I wonder," said Glynn, "how they can afford to carry on the trade when they lose so many ships as I am told they do every year." "You wouldn't wonder, boy, if you knew the enormous prices got for slaves. Why, the profits on one cargo, safely delivered, will more than cover the loss of several vessels and cargoes. You may depend on't they would not carry it on if it did not pay." "Humph!" ejaculated Glynn, giving the wheel a savage turn, as if to express his thorough disapprobation of the slave-trade, and his extreme disgust at not being able, by the strength of his own right arm, at once to repress it. "And who's to pay for our foretopsail-yard?" he inquired, abruptly, as if desirous of changing the subject. "Ourselves, I fear," replied the captain. "We must take it philosophically, and comfort ourselves with the fact that it _is_ the foretopsail-yard, and not the bowsprit or the mainmast, that was carried away. It's not likely the captain of the cruiser will pay for it, at any rate." Captain Dunning was wrong. That same morning he received a polite note from the commander of the said cruiser, requesting the pleasure of his company to dinner, in the event of the calm continuing, and assuring him that the carpenter and the sail-maker of the man-of-war should be sent on board his ship after breakfast to repair damages. Captain Dunning, therefore, like an honest, straightforward man as he was, admitted that he had been hasty in his judgment, and stated to Glynn Proctor, emphatically, that the commander of the _Firebrand_ was "a trump." CHAPTER FIFTEEN. NEW SCENES--A FIGHT PREVENTED BY A WHALE--A STORM--BLOWN OFF THE YARDARM--WRECK OF THE "RED ERIC". Five weeks passed away, and really, when one comes to consider the matter, it is surprising what a variety of events may be compressed into five weeks; what an amount of space may be passed over, what an immense change of scene and circumstance may be experienced in that comparatively short period of time. Men and women who remain quietly at home do not, perhaps, fully realise this fact. Five weeks to them does not usually seem either very long or very short. But let those quiet ones travel; let them rush away headlong, by the aid of wind and steam, to the distant and wonderful parts of this wonderful world of ours, and, ten to one, they will afterwards tell you that the most wonderful discovery they had made during their travels, is the fact that a miniature lifetime (apparently) can be compressed into five weeks. Five weeks passed away, and in the course of that time the foretopsail-yard of the _Red Eric_ had been repaired; the _Red Eric_ herself had passed from equatorial into southern seas; Alice Dunning had become very sea-sick, which caused her to look uncommonly green in the face, and had got well again, which caused her to become fresh and rosy as the early morning; Jacko had thoroughly established his reputation as the most arrant and accomplished thief that ever went to sea: King Bumble had been maligned and abused again and again, and over again, despite his protestations of innocence, by grim-faced Tarquin, the steward, for having done the deeds which were afterwards discovered to have been committed by Jacko; fat little Gurney had sung innumerable songs of his own composing, in which he was ably supported by Glynn Proctor; Dr Hopley had examined, phrenologically, all the heads on board, with the exception of that of Tarquin, who would not submit to the operation on any account, and had shot, and skinned, and stuffed a variety of curious sea-birds, and caught a number of remarkable sea-fish, and had microscopically examined--to the immense interest of Ailie, and consequently of the captain--a great many surprising animalcules, called _Medusae_, which possessed the most watery and the thinnest possible bodies, yet which had the power of emitting a beautiful phosphoric light at night, so as to cause the whole ocean sometimes to glow as if with liquid fire; Phil Briant had cracked more jokes, good, bad, and indifferent, than would serve to fill a whole volume of closely-printed pages, and had told more stories than would be believed by most people; Tim Rokens and the other harpooners had, with the assistance of the various boats' crews, slain and captured several large whales, and Nikel Sling had prepared, and assisted to consume, as many breakfasts, dinners, and suppers as there are days in the period of time above referred to;--in short, those five weeks, which we thus dismiss in five minutes, might, if enlarged upon, be expanded into material to fill five volumes such as this, which would probably take about five years to write--another reason for cutting this matter short. All this shows how much may be compressed into little space, how much may be done and seen in little time, and, therefore, how much value men ought to attach to little things. Five weeks passed away, as we have already remarked, and at the end of that time the _Red Eric_ found herself, one beautiful sunny afternoon, becalmed on the breast of the wide ocean with a strange vessel, also a whaler, a few miles distant from her, and a couple of sperm-whales sporting playfully about midway between the two ships. Jim Scroggles on that particular afternoon found himself in the crow's-nest at the masthead, roaring "Thar she blows!" with a degree of energy so appalling that one was almost tempted to believe that that long-legged individual had made up his mind to compress his life into one grand but brief minute, and totally exhaust his powers of soul and body in the reiterated vociferation of that one faculty of the sperm-whale. Allowance must be made for Jim, seeing that this was the first time he had been fortunate enough to "raise the oil" since he became a whaler. The usual scene of bustle and excitement immediately ensued. The men sprang to their appointed places in a moment; the tubs, harpoons, etcetera, were got ready, and in a few minutes the three boats were leaping over the smooth swell towards the fish. While this was taking place on board the _Red Eric_, a precisely similar scene occurred on board the other whale-ship, and a race now ensued between the boats of the two ships, for each knew well that the first boat that harpooned either of the whales claimed it. "Give way, my lads," whispered Captain Dunning eagerly, as he watched the other boats; "we shall be first--we shall be first; only bend your backs." The men needed not to be urged; they were quite as anxious as their commander to win the races and bent their backs, as he expressed it, until the oars seemed about to break. Glynn sat on the after thwart, and did good service on this occasion. It soon became evident that the affair would be decided by the boats of the two captains, both of which took the lead of the others, but as they were advancing in opposite directions it was difficult to tell which was the fleeter of the two. When the excitement of the race was at its height the whales went down, and the men lay on their oars to wait until they should rise again. They lay in anxious suspense for about a minute, when the crew of Captain Dunning's boat was startled by the sudden apparition of a waterspout close to them, by which they were completely drenched. It was immediately followed by the appearance of the huge blunt head of one of the whales, which rose like an enormous rock out of the sea close to the starboard-quarter. The sight was received with a loud shout, and Tim Rokens leaped up and grasped a harpoon, but the whale sheered off. A spare harpoon lay on the stern-sheets close to Glynn, who dropped his oar and seized it. Almost without knowing what he was about, he hurled it with tremendous force at the monster's neck, into which it penetrated deeply. The harpoon fortunately happened to be attached to a large buoy, called by whalers a drogue, which was jerked out of the boat like a cannon-shot as the whale went down, carrying harpoon and drogue along with it. "Well done, lad," cried the captain, in great delight, "you've made a noble beginning! Now, lads, pull gently ahead, she won't go far with such an ornament as that dangling at her neck. A capital dart! couldn't have done it half so well myself, even in my young days!" Glynn felt somewhat elated at this unexpected piece of success; to do him justice, however, he took it modestly. In a few minutes the whale rose, but it had changed its course while under water, and now appeared close to the leading boat of the other ship. By the laws of the whale-fishery, no boat of one vessel has a right to touch a whale that has been struck by the boat of another vessel, so long as the harpoon holds fast and the rope remains unbroken, or so long as the float to which the harpoon is connected remains attached. Nevertheless, in defiance of this well-known law, the boat belonging to the captain of the strange ship gave chase, and succeeded in making fast to the whale. To describe the indignation of Captain Dunning and his men on witnessing this act is impossible. The former roared rather than shouted, "Give way, lads!" and the latter bent their backs as if they meant to pull the boat bodily out of the water, and up into the atmosphere. Meanwhile all the other boats were in hot pursuit of the second whale, which had led them a considerable distance away from the first. "What do you mean by striking that fish?" shouted Captain Dunning, when, after a hard pull, he came up with the boat, the crew of which had just succeeded in thrusting a lance deep into a mortal part of the huge animal, which soon after rolled over, and lay extended on the waves. "What right have you to ask?" replied the captain of the strange ship, an ill-favoured, powerful man, whose countenance was sufficient to condemn him in any society, save that of ruffians. "Don't you see your drogue has broke loose?" "I see nothing of the sort. It's fast at this moment; so you'll be good enough to cut loose and take yourself off as fast as you please." To this the other made no reply, but, turning to his men, said: "Make fast there, lads; signal the other boats, and pull away for the ship; look sharp, you lubbers." "Och! captain dear," muttered Phil Briant, baring both arms up to the shoulders, "only give the word; _do_, now!" Captain Dunning, who was already boiling with rage, needed no encouragement to make an immediate attack on the stranger, neither did his men require an order; they plunged their oars into the water, ran right into the other boat, sprang to their feet, seized lances, harpoons, and knives, and in another moment would have been engaged in a deadly struggle had not an unforeseen event occurred to prevent the fray. This was the partial recovery of the whale, which, apparently resolved to make one final struggle for life, turned over and over, lashed the sea into foam, and churned it up with the blood which spouted in thick streams from its numerous wounds. Both boats were in imminent danger, and the men sprang to their oars in order to pull out of the range of the monster's dying struggles. In this effort the strange boat was successful, but that of Captain Dunning fared ill. A heavy blow from the whale's tail broke it in two, and hurled it into the air, whence the crew descended, amid a mass of harpoons, lances, oars, and cordage, into the blood-stained water. The fish sheered away for some distance, dragging the other boat along with it, and then rolled over quite dead. Fortunately not one of the crew of the capsized boat was hurt. All of them succeeded in reaching and clinging to the shattered hull of their boat; but there they were destined to remain a considerable time, as the boat of the stranger, having secured the dead fish, proceeded leisurely to tow it towards their ship, without paying the slightest attention to the shouts of their late enemies. A change had now come over the face of the sky. Clouds began to gather on the horizon, and a few light puffs of air swept over the sea, which enabled the strange vessel to bear down on her boat, and take the whale in tow. It also enabled the _Red Eric_ to beat up, but more slowly, towards the spot where their disabled boat lay, and rescue their comrades from their awkward position. It was some time before the boats were all gathered together. When this was accomplished the night had set in and the stranger had made off with her ill-gotten prize, the other whale having sounded, and the chase being abandoned. "Now, of all the disgustin' things that ever happened to me, this is the worst," remarked Captain Dunning, in a very sulky tone of voice, as he descended to the cabin to change his garments, Ailie having preceded him in order to lay out dry clothes. "Oh! my darling papa, what a fright I got," she exclaimed, running up and hugging him, wet as he was, for the seventh time, despite his efforts to keep her off. "I was looking through the spy-glass at the time it happened, and when I saw you all thrown into the air I cried-- oh! I can't tell you how I cried." "You don't need to tell me, Ailie, my pet, for your red, swelled-up eyes speak for themselves. But go, you puss, and change your own frock. You've made it as wet as my coat, nearly; besides, I can't undress, you know, while you stand there." Ailie said, "I'm so very, very thankful," and then giving her father one concluding hug, which completely saturated the frock, went to her own cabin. Meanwhile the crew of the captain's boat were busy in the forecastle stripping off their wet garments, and relating their adventures to the men of the other boats, who, until they reached the ship, had been utterly ignorant of what had passed. It is curious that Tim Rokens should open the conversation with much the same sentiment, if not exactly the same phrase, as that expressed by the captain. "Now boys," said he, slapping his wet limbs, "I'll tell ye wot it is, of all the aggrawations as has happened to me in my life, this is out o' sight the wust. To think o' losin' that there whale, the very biggest I ever saw--" "Ah! Rokens, man," interrupted Glynn, as he pulled off his jacket, "the loss is greater to me than to you, for that was my _first_ whale!" "True, boy," replied the harpooner, in a tone of evidently genuine sympathy; "I feel for ye. I knows how I should ha' taken on if it had happened to me. But cheer up, lad; you know the old proverb, `There's as good fish in the sea as ever came out o't.' You'll be the death o' many sich yet, I'll bet my best iron." "Sure, the wust of it all is, that we don't know who was the big thief as got that fish away with him," said Phil Briant, with a rueful countenance. "Don't we, though!" cried Gurney, who had been in the mate's boat; "I axed one o' the men o' the stranger's boats--for we run up close alongside durin' the chase--and he told me as how she was the _Termagant_ of New York; so we can be down on 'em yet, if we live long enough." "Humph!" observed Rokens; "and d'ye suppose he'd give ye the right name?" "He'd no reason to do otherwise. He didn't know of the dispute between the other boats." "There's truth in that," remarked Glynn, as he prepared to go on deck; "but it may be a year or more before we foregather. No, I give up all claim to my first fish from this date." "All hands ahoy!" shouted the mate; "tumble up there! Reef topsails! Look alive!" The men ran hastily on deck, completing their buttoning and belting as they went, and found that something very like a storm was brewing. As yet the breeze was moderate, and the sea not very high, but the night was pitchy dark, and a hot oppressive atmosphere boded no improvement in the weather. "Lay out there, some of you, and close reef the topsails," cried the mate, as the men ran to their several posts. The ship was running at the time under a comparatively small amount of canvas; for, as their object was merely to cruise about in those seas in search of whales, and they had no particular course to steer, it was usual to run at night under easy sail, and sometimes to lay-to. It was fortunate that such was the case on the present occasion; for it happened that the storm which was about to burst on them came with appalling suddenness and fury. The wind tore up the sea as if it had been a mass of white feathers, and scattered it high in air. The mizzen-topsail was blown to ribbons, and it seemed as if the other sails were about to share the same fate. The ship flew from billow to billow, after recovering from the first rude shock, as if she were but a dark cloud on the sea, and the spray flew high over her masts, drenching the men on the topsail-yards while they laboured to reef the sails. "We shall have to take down these t'gallant-masts, Mr Millons," said the captain, as he stood by the weather-bulwarks holding on to a belaying-pin to prevent his being washed away. "Shall I give the order, sir?" inquired the first mate. "You may," replied the captain. Just as the mate turned to obey, a shriek was heard high above the whistling of the fierce wind. "Did you hear that?" said the captain anxiously. "I did," replied the mate. "I fear--I trust--" The remainder of the sentence was either suppressed, or the howling of the wind prevented its being heard. Just then a flash of lightning lit up the scene, and a terrific crash of thunder seemed to rend the sky. The flash was momentary, but it served to reveal the men on the yards distinctly. They had succeeded in close-reefing the topsails, and were hurrying down the rigging. The mate came close to the captain's side and said, "Did you see, sir, the way them men on the mainyard were scramblin' down?" The captain had not time to reply ere a shout, "Man overboard!" was heard faintly in the midst of the storm, and in another instant some of the men rushed aft with frantic haste, shouting that one of their number had been blown off the yard into the sea. "Down your helm," roared the captain; "stand-by to lower away the boats." The usual prompt "Ay, ay, sir," was given, but before the men could reach their places a heavy sea struck the vessel amidships, poured several tons of water on the decks, and washed all the loose gear overboard. "Let her away," cried the captain quickly. The steersman obeyed; the ship fell off, and again bounded on her mad course like a wild horse set free. "It's of no use, sir," said the mate, as the captain leaped towards the wheel, which the other had already gained; "no boat could live in that sea for a moment. The poor fellow's gone by this time. He must be more than half-a-mile astern already." "I know it," returned the captain, in a deep sad voice. "Get these masts down, Mr Millons, and see that everything is made fast. Who is it, did you say?" "The men can't tell, sir; one of 'em told me 'e thinks it was young Boswell. It was too dark to see 'is face, but 'is figure was that of a stout young fellow." "A stout young fellow," muttered the captain, as the mate hurried forward. "Can it have been Glynn?" His heart sank within him at the thought, and he would have given worlds at that moment, had he possessed them, to have heard the voice of our hero, whom, almost unwittingly, he had begun to love with all the affection of a father. While he stood gazing up at the rigging, attempting to pierce the thick darkness, he felt his sleeve plucked, and, looking down, observed Ailie at his side. "My child," he cried, grasping her by the arm convulsively, "_you_ here! How came you to leave your cabin, dear? Go down, go down; you don't know the danger you run. Stay--I will help you. If one of those seas comes on board it would carry you overboard like a fleck of foam." "I didn't know there was much danger, papa. Glynn told me there wasn't," she replied, as her father sprang with her to the companion-ladder. "How? when? where, child? Did Glynn speak to you within the last ten minutes?" "Yes; he looked down the hatch just as I was coming up, and told me not to be afraid, and said I must go below, and not think of coming on deck; but I heard a shriek, papa, and feared something had happened, so I came to ask what it was. I hope no one is hurt." "My darling Ailie," replied the captain, in an agitated voice, "go down to your berth, and pray for us just now. There is not _much_ danger; but in all times of danger, whether great or slight, we should pray to Our Father in Heaven, for we never know what a day or an hour may bring forth. I will speak to you about everything to-morrow; to-night I must be on deck." He kissed her forehead, pushed her gently into the cabin, shut the door, and, coming on deck, fastened the companion-hatch firmly down. In a short time the ship was prepared to face the worst. The topsails were close-reefed; the topgallant-masts sent down on deck; the spanker and jib were furled, and, soon after, the mainsail and foresail were also furled. The boats were taken in and secured on deck, and the ship went a little more easily through the raging sea; but as the violence of the gale increased, sail had to be further reduced, and at last everything was taken in except the main spencer and foretopmast-staysail. "I wouldn't mind this much," said the captain, as he and the first mate stood close to the binnacle, "if I only knew our exact position. But we've not had an observation for several days, and I don't feel sure of our whereabouts. There are some nasty coral reefs in these seas. Did you find out who the poor fellow is yet?" "It's young Boswell, I fear, Mr Markham is mustering the men just now, sir." As he spoke, the second mate came aft and confirmed their fears. The man who had thus been summoned in a moment, without warning, into the presence of his Maker, had been a quiet, modest youth, and a favourite with every one on board. At any other time his death would have been deeply felt; but in the midst of that terrible storm the men had no time to think. Indeed, they could not realise the fact that their shipmate was really gone. "Mr Markham," said the captain, as the second mate turned away, "send a hand in to the chains to heave the lead. I don't feel at all easy in my mind, so near these shoals as we must be just now." While the order was being obeyed the storm became fiercer and more furious. Bright gleams of lightning flashed repeatedly across the sky, lighting up the scene as if with brightest moonlight, and revealing the horrid turmoil of the raging sea in which the ship now laboured heavily. The rapidity with which the thunder followed the lightning showed how near to them was the dangerous and subtle fluid; and the crashing, bursting reports that shook the ship from stem to stern gave the impression that mountains were being dashed to atoms against each other in the air. All the sails still exposed to the fury of the gale were blown to shreds; the foretopmast and the jib-boom were carried away along with them and the _Red Eric_ was driven at last before the wind under bare poles. The crew remained firm in the midst of this awful scene; each man stood at his post, holding on by any fixed object that chanced to be within his reach, and held himself ready to spring to obey every order. No voice could be heard in the midst of the howling winds, the lashing sea, and the rending sky. Commands were given by signs as well as possible, during the flashes of lightning; but little or nothing remained to be done. Captain Dunning had done all that a man thoroughly acquainted with his duties could accomplish to put his ship in the best condition to do battle with the storm, and he now felt that the issue remained in the hands of Him who formed the warring elements, and whose will alone could check their angry strife. During one of the vivid flashes of lightning the captain observed Glynn Proctor standing near the starboard gangway, and, waiting for the next flash, he made a signal to him to come to the spot where he stood. Glynn understood it, and in a few seconds was at his commander's side. "Glynn," my boy, said the latter, "you won't be wanted on deck for some time. There's little to be done now. Go down and see what Ailie's about, poor thing. She'll need a little comfort. Say I sent you." Without other reply than a nod of the head, Glynn sprang to the companion-hatch, followed by the captain, who undid the fastenings to let him down and refastened them immediately, for the sea was washing over the stern continually. Glynn found the child on her knees in the cabin with her face buried in the cushions of one of the sofas. He sat down beside her and waited until she should have finished her prayer; but as she did not move for some time he laid his hand gently on her shoulder. She looked up with a happy smile on her face. "Oh, Glynn, is that you? I'm so glad," she said, rising, and sitting down beside him. "Your father sent me down to comfort you, my pet," said Glynn, taking her hand in his and drawing her towards him. "I have got comfort already," replied the child; "I'm so very happy, now." "How so, Ailie? who has been with you?" "God has been with me. You told me, Glynn, that there wasn't much danger, but I felt sure that there was. Oh! I never heard such terrible noises, and this dreadful tossing is worse than ever I felt it--a great deal. So I went down on my knees and prayed that God, for Christ's sake would save us. I felt very frightened, Glynn. You can't think how my heart beat every time the thunder burst over us. But suddenly--I don't know how it was--the words I used to read at home so often with my dear aunts came into my mind; you know them, Glynn, `Call upon Me in the time of trouble, and I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify Me.' I don't know where I read them. I forget the place in the Bible now; but when I thought of them I felt much less frightened. Do you think it was the Holy Spirit who put them into my mind? My aunts used to tell me that all my _good_ thoughts were given to me by the Holy Spirit. Then I remembered the words of Jesus, `I will never leave thee nor forsake thee,' and I felt so happy after that. It was just before you came down. I _think_ we shall not be lost. God would not make me feel so happy if we were going to be lost, would He?" "I think not, Ailie," replied Glynn, whose conscience reproached him for his ignorance of the passages in God's word referred to by his companion, and who felt that he was receiving rather than administering comfort. "When I came down I did not very well know how I should comfort you, for this is certainly the most tremendous gale I ever saw, but somehow I feel as if we were in less danger now. I wish I knew more of the Bible, Ailie. I'm ashamed to say I seldom look at it." "Oh, that's a pity, isn't it, Glynn?" said Ailie, with earnest concern expressed in her countenance, for she regarded her companion's ignorance as a great misfortune; it never occurred to her that it was a sin. "But it's very easy to learn it," she added with an eager look. "If you come to me here every day we can read it together. I would like to have you hear me say it off, and then I would hear you." Before he could reply the vessel received a tremendous shock which caused her to quiver from stem to stern. "She must have been struck by lightning," cried Glynn, starting up and hurrying towards the door. Ailie's frightened look returned for a few minutes, but she did not tremble as she had done before. Just as Glynn reached the top of the ladder the hatch was opened and the captain thrust in his head. "Glynn, my boy," said he, in a quick, firm tone, "we are ashore. Perhaps we shall go to pieces in a few minutes. God knows. May He in His mercy spare us. You cannot do much on deck. Ailie must be looked after till I come down for her. Glynn, _I depend upon you_." These words were uttered hurriedly, and the hatch was shut immediately after. It is impossible to describe accurately the conflicting feelings that agitated the breast of the young sailor as he descended again to the cabin. He felt gratified at the trust placed in him by the captain, and his love for the little girl would at any time have made the post of protector to her an agreeable one; but the idea that the ship had struck the rocks, and that his shipmates on deck were struggling perhaps for their lives while he was sitting idly in the cabin, was most trying and distressing to one of his ardent and energetic temperament. He was not, however, kept long in suspense. Scarcely had he regained the cabin when the ship again struck with terrific violence, and he knew by the rending crash overhead that one or more of the masts had gone over the side. The ship at the same moment slewed round and was thrown on her beam-ends. So quickly did this occur that Glynn had barely time to seize Ailie in his arms and save her from being dashed against the bulkhead. The vessel rose again on the next wave, and was hurled on the rocks with such violence that every one on board expected her to go to pieces immediately. At the same time the cabin windows were dashed in, and the cabin itself was flooded with water. Glynn was washed twice across the cabin and thrown violently against the ship's sides, but he succeeded in keeping a firm hold of his little charge and in protecting her from injury. "Hallo, Glynn!" shouted the captain, as he opened the companion-hatch, "come on deck, quick! bring her with you!" Glynn hurried up and placed the child in her father's arms. The scene that presented itself to him on gaining the deck was indeed appalling. The first grey streak of dawn faintly lighted up the sky, just affording sufficient light to exhibit the complete wreck of everything on deck, and the black froth-capped tumult of the surrounding billows. The rocks on which they had struck could not be discerned in the gloom, but the white breakers ahead showed too clearly where they were. The three masts had gone over the side one after another, leaving only the stumps of each standing. Everything above board--boats, binnacle, and part of the bulwarks--had been washed away. The crew were clinging to the belaying-pins and to such parts of the wreck as seemed likely to hold together longest. It seemed to poor Ailie, as she clung to her father's neck that she had been transported to some far-distant and dreadful scene, for scarcely a single familiar object remained by which her ocean home, the _Red Eric_, could be recognised. But Ailie had neither desire nor opportunity to remark on this tremendous change. Every successive billow raised the doomed vessel, and let her fall with heavy violence on the rocks. Her stout frame trembled under each shock, as if she were endued with life, and shrank affrighted from her impending fate; and it was as much as the captain could do to maintain his hold of the weather-bulwarks and of Ailie at the same time. Indeed, he could not have done it at all had not Glynn stood by and assisted him to the best of his ability. "It won't last long, lad," said the captain, as a larger wave than usual lifted the shattered hull and dashed it down on the rocks, washing the deck from stern to stem, and for a few seconds burying the whole crew under water. "May the Almighty have mercy on us; no ship can stand this long." "Perhaps the tide is falling," suggested Glynn, in an encouraging voice, "and I think I see something like a shore ahead. It will be daylight in half-an-hour or less." The captain shook his head. "There's little or no tide here to rise or fall, I fear. Before half-an-hour we shall--" He did not finish the sentence, but looking at Ailie with a gaze of agony, he pressed her more closely to his breast. "I think we shall be saved," whispered the child, twining her arms more closely round her father's neck, and laying her wet cheek against his. Just then Tim Rokens crept aft, and said that he saw a low sandy island ahead, and a rocky point jutting out from it close to the bows of the ship. He suggested that a rope might be got ashore when it became a little lighter. Phil Briant came aft to make the same suggestion, not knowing that Rokens had preceded him. In fact, the men had been consulting as to the possibility of accomplishing this object, but when they looked at the fearful breakers that boiled in white foam between the ship's bow and the rocky point, their hearts failed them, and no one was found to volunteer for the dangerous service. "Is any one inclined to try it?" inquired the captain. "There's niver a wan of us but 'ud try it, cap'en, _if you gives the order_," answered Briant. The captain hesitated. He felt disinclined to order any man to expose himself to such imminent danger; yet the safety of the whole crew might depend on a rope being connected with the shore. Before he could make up his mind, Glynn, who saw what was passing in his mind, exclaimed--"I'll do it, captain;" and instantly quitting his position, hurried forward as fast as circumstances would permit. The task which Glynn had undertaken to perform turned out to be more dangerous and difficult than at first he had anticipated. When he stood at the lee bow, fastening a small cord round his waist, and looking at the turmoil of water into which he was about to plunge, his heart well-nigh failed him, and he felt a sensation of regret that he had undertaken what seemed now an impossibility. He did not wonder that the men had one and all shrunk from the attempt. But he had made up his mind to do it. Moreover, he had _said_ he would do it, and feeling that he imperilled his life in a good cause, he set his face as a flint to the accomplishment of his purpose. Well was it for Glynn Proctor that day that in early boyhood he had learned to swim, and had become so expert in the water as to be able to beat all his young companions! He noticed, on looking narrowly at the foaming surge through which he must pass in order to gain the rocky point, that many of the submerged rocks showed their tops above the flood, like black spots, when each wave retired. To escape these seemed impossible--to strike one of them he knew would be almost certain death. "Don't try it, boy," said several of the men, as they saw Glynn hesitate when about to spring, and turn an anxious gaze in all directions; "it's into death ye'll jump, if ye do." Glynn did not reply; indeed, he did not hear the remark, for at that moment his whole attention was riveted on a ledge of submerged rock, which ever and anon showed itself, like the edge of a knife, extending between the ship and the point. Along the edge of this the retiring waves broke in such a manner as to form what appeared to be dead water-tossed, indeed, and foam-clad, but not apparently in progressive motion. Glynn made up his mind in an instant, and just as the first mate came forward with an order from the captain that he was on no account to make the rash attempt, he sprang with his utmost force off the ship's side and sank in the raging sea. Words cannot describe the intense feeling of suspense with which the men on the lee bow gazed at the noble-hearted boy as he rose and buffeted with the angry billows. Every man held his breath, and those who had charge of the line stood nervously ready to haul him back at a moment's notice. On first rising to the surface he beat the waves as if bewildered, and while some of the men cried, "He's struck a rock," others shouted to haul him in; but in another second he got his eyes cleared of spray, and seeing the ship's hull towering above his head, he turned his back on it and made for the shore. At first he went rapidly through the surge, for his arm was strong and his young heart was brave; but a receding wave caught him and hurled him some distance out of his course--tossing him over and over as if he had been a cork. Again he recovered himself, and gaining the water beside the ledge, he made several powerful and rapid strokes, which carried him within a few yards of the point. "He's safe," said Rokens eagerly. "No; he's missed it!" cried the second mate, who, with Gurney and Dick Barnes, payed out the rope. Glynn had indeed almost caught hold of the farthest-out ledge of the point when he was drawn back into the surge, and this time dashed against a rock and partially stunned. The men had already begun to haul in on the rope when he recovered, and making a last effort, gained the rocks, up which he clambered slowly. When beyond the reach of the waves he fell down as if he had fainted. This, however, was not the case; he was merely exhausted, as well as confused, by the blows he had received on the rocks, and lay for a few seconds quite still in order to recover strength, during which period of inaction he thanked God earnestly for his deliverance, and prayed fervently that he might be made the means of saving his companions in danger. After a minute or two he rose, unfastened the line from his waist, and began to haul it ashore. To the other end of the small line the men in the ship attached a thick cable, the end of which was soon pulled up, and made fast to a large rock. Tim Rokens was now ordered to proceed to the shore by means of the rope in order to test it. After this a sort of swing was constructed, with a noose which was passed round the cable. To this a small line was fastened, and passed to the shore. On this swinging-seat Ailie was seated, and hauled to the rocks, Tim Rokens "shinning" along the cable at the same time to guard her from accident. Then the men began to land, and thus, one by one, the crew of the _Red Eric_ reached the shore in safety; and when all had landed, Captain Dunning, standing in the midst of his men, lifted up his voice in thanksgiving to God for their deliverance. But when daylight came the full extent of their forlorn situation was revealed. The ship was a complete wreck; the boats were all gone, and they found that the island on which they had been cast was only a few square yards in extent--a mere sandbank, utterly destitute of shrub or tree, and raised only a few feet above the level of the ocean. CHAPTER SIXTEEN. THE SANDBANK--THE WRECKED CREW MAKE THE BEST OF BAD CIRCUMSTANCES. It will scarcely surprise the reader to be told that, after the first emotions of thankfulness for deliverance from what had appeared to the shipwrecked mariners to be inevitable death, a feeling amounting almost to despair took possession of the whole party for a time. The sandbank was so low that in stormy weather it was almost submerged. It was a solitary coral reef in the midst of the boundless sea. Not a tree or bush grew upon it, and except at the point where the ship had struck, there was scarcely a rock large enough to afford shelter to a single man. Without provisions, without sufficient shelter, without the means of escape, and _almost_ without the hope of deliverance, it seemed to them that nothing awaited them but the slow, lingering pains and horrors of death by starvation. As those facts forced themselves more and more powerfully home to the apprehension of the crew,--while they cowered for shelter from the storm under the lee of the rocky point, they gave expression to their feelings in different ways. Some sat down in dogged silence to await their fate; others fell on their knees and cried aloud to God for mercy; while a few kept up their own spirits and those of their companions by affecting a cheerfulness which, however, in some cages, was a little forced. Ailie lay shivering in her father's arms, for she was drenched with salt water and very cold. Her eyes were closed, and she was very pale from exposure and exhaustion, but her lips moved as if in prayer. Captain Dunning looked anxiously at Dr Hopley, who crouched beside them, and gazed earnestly in the child's face while he felt her pulse. "It's almost too much for her, I fear," said the captain, in a hesitating, husky voice. The doctor did not answer for a minute or two, then he said, as if muttering to himself rather than replying to the captain's remark, "If we could only get her into dry clothes, or had a fire, or even a little brandy, but--" He did not finish the sentence, and the captain's heart sank within him, and his weather-beaten face grew pale as he thought of the possibility of losing his darling child. Glynn had been watching the doctor with intense eagerness, and with a terrible feeling of dread fluttering about his heart. When he heard the last remark he leaped up and cried--"If brandy is all you want you shall soon have it." And running down to the edge of the water, he plunged in and grasped the cable, intending to clamber into the ship, which had by this time been driven higher on the rocks, and did not suffer so much from the violence of the breakers. At the same instant Phil Briant sprang to his feet, rushed down after him, and before he had got a yard from the shore, seized him by the collar, and dragged him out of the sea high and dry on the land. Glynn was so exasperated at this unceremonious and at the moment unaccountable treatment, that he leaped up, and in the heat of the moment prepared to deal the Irishman a blow that would very probably have brought the experiences of the "ring" to his remembrance; but Briant effectually checked him by putting both his own hands into his pockets, thrusting forward his face as if to invite the blow, and exclaiming-- "Och! now, hit fair, Glynn, darlint; put it right in betwane me two eyes!" Glynn laughed hysterically, in spite of himself. "What mean you by stopping me?" he asked somewhat sternly. "Shure, I mane that I'll go for the grog meself. Ye've done more nor yer share o' the work this mornin', an' it's but fair to give a poor fellow a chance. More be token, ye mustn't think that nobody can't do nothin' but yeself. It's Phil Briant that'll shin up a rope with any white man in the world, or out of it." "You're right, Phil," said Rokens, who had come to separate the combatants. "Go aboord, my lad, an' I'll engage to hold this here young alligator fast till ye come back." "You don't need to hold me, Tim," retorted Glynn, with a smile; "but don't be long about it, Phil. You know where the brandy is kept--look alive." Briant accomplished his mission successfully, and, despite the furious waves, brought the brandy on shore in safety. As he emerged like a caricature of old Neptune dripping from the sea, it was observed that he held a bundle in his powerful grasp. It was also strapped to his shoulders. "Why, what have you got there?" inquired the doctor, as he staggered under the shelter of the rocks. "Arrah! give a dhrop to the child, an' don't be wastin' yer breath," replied Briant, as he undid the bundle. "Sure I've brought a few trifles for her outside as well as her in." And he revealed to the glad father a bundle of warm habiliments which he had collected in Ailie's cabin, and kept dry by wrapping them in several layers of tarpaulin. "God bless you, my man," said the captain, grasping the thoughtful Irishman by the hand. "Now, Ailie, my darling pet, look up, and swallow a drop o' this. Here's a capital rig-out o' dry clothes too." A few sips of brandy soon restored the circulation which had well-nigh been arrested, and when she had been clothed in the dry garments, Ailie felt comparatively comfortable, and expressed her thanks to Phil Briant with tears in her eyes. A calm often succeeds a storm somewhat suddenly, especially in southern latitudes. Soon after daybreak the wind moderated, and before noon it ceased entirely, though the sea kept breaking in huge rolling billows on the sandbank for many hours afterwards. The sun, too, came out hot and brilliant, shedding a warm radiance over the little sea-girt spot as well as over the hearts of the crew. Human nature exhibits wonderful and sudden changes. Men spring from the depths of despair to the very summit, of light-hearted hope, and very frequently, too, without a very obvious cause to account for the violent change. Before the day after the storm was far advanced, every one on the sandbank seemed to be as joyous as though there was no danger of starvation whatever. There was, however, sufficient to produce the change in the altered aspect of affairs. For one thing, the warm sun began to make them feel comfortable--and really it is wonderful how ready men are to shut their eyes to the actual state of existing things if they can only enjoy a little present comfort. Then the ship was driven so high up on the rocks as to be almost beyond the reach of the waves, and she had not been dashed to pieces, as had at first been deemed inevitable, so that the stores and provisions in her might be secured, and the party be thus enabled to subsist on their ocean prison until set free by some passing ship. Under the happy influence of these improved circumstances every one went about the work of rendering their island home more comfortable, in good, almost in gleeful spirits. Phil Briant indulged in jests which a few hours ago would have been deemed profane, and Gurney actually volunteered the song of the "man wot got his nose froze;" but every one declined to listen to it, on the plea that it reminded them too forcibly of the cold of the early morning. Even the saturnine steward, Tarquin, looked less ferocious than usual, and King Bumble became so loquacious that he was ordered more than once to hold his tongue and to "shut up." The work they had to do was indeed of no light nature. They had to travel to and fro between the ship and the rocks on the rope-cable, a somewhat laborious achievement, in order to bring ashore such things as they absolutely required. A quantity of biscuit, tea, coffee, and sugar were landed without receiving much damage, then a line was fastened to a cask of salt beef, and this, with a few more provisions, was drawn ashore the first day, and placed under the shelter of the largest rock on the point. On the following day it was resolved that a raft should be constructed, and everything that could in any way prove useful be brought to the sandbank and secured. For Captain Dunning well knew that another storm might arise as quickly as the former had done, and although the ship at present lay in comparatively quiet water, the huge billows that would be dashed against her in such circumstances would be certain to break her up and scatter her cargo on the breast of the all-devouring sea. In the midst of all this activity and bustle there sat one useless and silent, but exceedingly grave and uncommonly attentive spectator, namely, Jacko the monkey. That sly and sagacious individual, seeing that no one intended to look after him, had during the whole of the recent storm wisely looked after himself. He had ensconced himself in a snug and comparatively sheltered corner under the afterpart of the weather-bulwarks. But when he saw the men one by one leaving the ship, and proceeding to the shore by means of the rope, he began to evince an anxiety as to his own fate which had in it something absolutely human. Jacko was the last man, so to speak, to leave the _Red Eric_. Captain Dunning, resolving, with the true spirit of a brave commander; to reserve that honour to himself, had seen the last man, he thought, out of the ship, and was two-thirds of the distance along the rope on his way to land, when Jim Scroggles, who was _always_ either in or out of the way at the most inopportune moments, came rushing up from below, whither he had gone to secure a favourite brass _finger-ring_, and scrambled over the side. It would be difficult to say whether Jim's head, or feet, or legs, or knees, or arms went over the side first,--they all got over somehow, nobody knew how--and in the getting over his hat flew off and was lost for ever. Seeing this, and feeling, no doubt, the momentous truth of that well-known adage "Now or never," Master Jacko uttered a shriek, bounded from his position of fancied security, and seized Jim Scroggles firmly by the hair, resolved apparently to live or perish along with him. As to simply clambering along that cable to the shore. Jacko would have thought no more of it than of eating his dinner. Had he felt so disposed he could have walked along it, or hopped along it, or thrown somersaults along it. But to proceed along it while it was at one moment thirty feet above the sea, rigid as a bar of iron, and the next moment several feet under the mad turmoil of the raging billows--this it was that filled his little bosom with inexpressible horror, and induced him to cling with a tight embrace to the hair of the head of his bitterest enemy! Having gained the shore, Jacko immediately took up his abode in the warmest spot on that desolate sandbank, which was the centre of the mass of cowering and shivering men who sought shelter under the lee of the rocks, where he was all but squeezed to death, but where he felt comparatively warm, nevertheless. When the sun came out he perched himself in a warm nook of the rock near to Ailie, and dried himself, after which, as we have already hinted, he superintended the discharging of the cargo and the arrangements made for a prolonged residence on the sandbank. "Och! but yer a queer cratur," remarked Briant, as he passed, chucking the monkey under the chin. "Oo-oo-oo-ee-o!" replied Jacko. "Very thrue, no doubt--but I haven't time to spake to ye jist yet, lad," replied Briant, with a laugh, as he ran down to the beach and seized a barrel which had just been hauled to the water's edge. "What are you going to do with the wood, papa?" asked Ailie. The captain had seized an axe at the moment, and began vigorously to cut up a rough plank which had been driven ashore by the waves. "I'm going to make a fire, my pet, to warm your cold toes." "But my toes are not cold, papa; you've no idea how comfortable I am." Ailie did indeed look comfortable at that moment, for she was lying on a bed of dry sand, with a thick blanket spread over her. "Well, then, it will do to warm Jacko's toes, if yours don't want it; and besides, we all want a cup of tea after our exertions. The first step towards that end, you know, is to make a fire." So saying, the captain piled up dry wood in front of the place where Ailie lay, and in a short time had a capital fire blazing, and a large tin kettle full of fresh water boiling thereon. It may be as well to remark here that the water had been brought in a small keg from the ship, for not a single drop of fresh water was found on the sandbank after the most careful search. Fortunately, however, the water-tanks of the _Red Eric_ still contained a large supply. During the course of that evening _a_ sort of shed or tent was constructed out of canvas and a few boards placed against the rock. This formed a comparatively comfortable shelter, and one end of it was partitioned off for Ailie's special use. No one was permitted to pass the curtain that hung before the entrance to this little boudoir, except the captain, who claimed a right to do what he pleased, and Glynn, who was frequently invited to enter in order to assist its fair occupant in her multifarious arrangements, and Jacko, who could not be kept out by any means that had yet been hit upon, except by killing him; but as Ailie objected to this, he was suffered to take up his abode there, and, to do him justice, he behaved very well while domiciled in that place. It is curious to note how speedily little children, and men too, sometimes, contrive to forget the unpleasant or the sad, or, it may be, the dangerous circumstances in which they may chance to be placed, while engaged in the minute details incident to their peculiar position. Ailie went about arranging her little nest under the rock with as much zeal and cheerful interest as if she were "playing at houses" in her own room at home. She decided that one corner was peculiarly suited for her bed, because there was a small rounded rock in it which looked like a pillow; so Glynn was directed to spread the tarpaulin and the blankets there. Another corner exhibited a crevice in the rock, which seemed so suitable for a kennel for Jacko that the arrangement was agreed to on the spot. We say agreed to, because Ailie suggested everything to Glynn, and Glynn always agreed to everything that Ailie suggested, and stood by with a hammer and nails and a few pieces of plank in his hands ready to fulfil her bidding, no matter what it should be. So Jacko was sent for to be introduced to his new abode, but Jacko was not to be found, for the very good reason that he had taken possession of the identical crevice some time before, and at that moment was enjoying a comfortable nap in its inmost recess. Then Ailie caused Glynn to put up a little shelf just over her head, which he did with considerable difficulty, because it turned out that nails could not easily be driven into the solid rock. After that a small cave at the foot of the apartment was cleaned out and Ailie's box placed there. All this and sundry other pieces of work were executed by the young sailor and his little friend with an amount of cheerful pleasantry that showed they had, in the engrossing interest of their pursuit, totally forgotten the fact that they were cast away on a sandbank on which were neither food nor water, nor wood, except what was to be found in the wrecked ship, and around which for thousands of miles rolled the great billows of the restless sea. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. LIFE ON THE SANDBANK--AILIE TAKES POSSESSION OF FAIRYLAND--GLYNN AND BUMBLE ASTONISH THE LITTLE FISHES. In order that the reader may form a just conception of the sandbank on which the crew of the _Red Eric_ had been wrecked, we shall describe it somewhat carefully. It lay in the Southern Ocean, a little to the west of the longitude of the Cape of Good Hope, and somewhere between 2000 and 3000 miles to the south of it. As has been already remarked, the bank at its highest point was little more than a few feet above the level of the ocean, the waves of which in stormy weather almost, and the spray of which altogether, swept over it. In length it was barely fifty yards, and in breadth about forty. Being part of a coral reef, the surface of it was composed of the beautiful white sand that is formed from coral by the dashing waves. At one end of the bank--that on which the ship had struck--the reef rose into a ridge of rock, which stood a few feet higher than the level of the sand, and stretched out into the sea about twenty yards, with its points projecting here and there above water. On the centre of the bank at its highest point one or two very small blades of green substance were afterwards discovered. So few were they, however, and so delicate, that we feel justified in describing the spot as being utterly destitute of verdure. Ailie counted those green blades many a time after they were discovered. There were exactly thirty-five of them; twenty-six were, comparatively speaking, large; seven were of medium size, and two were extremely small--so small and thin that Ailie wondered they did not die of sheer delicacy of constitution on such a barren spot. The greater part of the surface of the bank was covered with the fine sand already referred to, but there were one or two spots which were covered with variously-sized pebbles, and an immense number of beautiful small shells. On such a small and barren spot one would think there was little or nothing to admire. But this was not the case. Those persons whose thoughts are seldom allowed to fix attentively on any subject, are apt to fall into the mistake of supposing that in this world there are a great many absolutely uninteresting things. Many things are, indeed, uninteresting to individuals, but there does not exist a single thing which has not a certain amount of interest to one or another cast of mind, and which will not afford food for contemplation, and matter fitted to call forth our admiration for its great and good Creator. We know a valley so beautiful that it has been for generations past, and will probably be for generations to come, the annual resort of hundreds of admiring travellers. The valley cannot be seen until you are almost in it. The country immediately around it is no way remarkable; it is even tame. Many people would exclaim at first sight in reference to it, "How uninteresting." It requires a close view, a minute inspection, to discover the beauties that lie hidden there. So was it with our sandbank. Ailie's first thoughts were, "Oh! how dreary; how desolate!" and in some respects she was right; but she dwelt there long enough to discover things that charmed her eye and her imagination, and caused her sometimes to feel as if she had been transported to the realms of Fairyland. We do not say, observe, that the crew of the _Red Eric_ were ever blessed with such dreams. Jim Scroggles, for instance, had no eye for the minute beauties or wonders of creation. Jim, according to his own assertion, could see about as far through a millstone as most men. He could apostrophise his eye, on certain occasions, and tell it--as though its own power of vision were an insufficient medium of information--that "that _wos_ a stunnin' iceberg;" or that "that _wos_ a gale and a half, fit to tear the masts out o' the ship a'most." But for any less majestic object in nature, Jim Scroggles had nothing to say either to his eye, or his nose, or his shipmates. As was Jim Scroggles, so were most of the other men. Hence they grumbled a good deal at their luckless condition. But upon the whole they were pretty cheerful--especially at meal-times--and, considering their circumstances, they behaved very well. Glynn Proctor was a notable exception to the prevailing rule of indifference to small things. By nature he was of a superior stamp of mind to his comrades; besides, he had been better educated; and more than all, he was at that time under the influence of Ailie Dunning. She admired what she admired; he liked what she liked; he looked with interest at the things which she examined. Had Ailie sat down beside the stock of an old anchor and looked attentively at it, Glynn would have sat down and stared at it too, in the firm belief that there was something there worth looking at! Glynn laughed aloud sometimes at himself, to think how deeply interested he had become in the child, for up to that time he had rather avoided than courted the society of children; and he used to say to Ailie that the sailors would begin to call her his little sweetheart, if he spent so much of his time with her; to which Ailie would reply by asking what a sweetheart was; whereat Glynn would laugh immoderately; whereupon Ailie would tell him not to be stupid, but to come and play with her! All the sailors, even including the taciturn Tarquin, had a tender feeling of regard for the little girl who shared their fortunes at that time, but with the exception of Glynn, none were capable of sympathising with her in her pursuits. Tim Rokens, her father, and Dr Hopley did to some extent, but these three had their minds too deeply filled with anxiety about their critical position to pay her much attention, beyond the kindest concern for her physical wants. King Bumble, too, we beg his pardon, showed considerable interest in her. The sable assistant of Nikel Sling shone conspicuous at this trying time, for his activity, good-humour, and endurance, and in connection with Phil Briant, Gurney, and Jacko, kept up the spirits of the shipwrecked men wonderfully. Close under the rocks, on the side farthest removed from the spot where the rude tent was pitched, there was a little bay or creek, not more than twenty yards in diameter, which Ailie appropriated and called Fairyland! It was an uncommonly small spot, but it was exceedingly beautiful and interesting. The rocks, although small, were so broken and fantastically formed, that when Ailie crept close in amongst them, and so placed herself that the view of the sandbank was entirely shut out, and nothing was to be seen but little pools of crystal water and rocklets, with their margin of dazzling white sand, and the wreck of the ship in the distance, with the deep blue sea beyond, she quite forgot where she actually was, and began to wander in the most enchanting daydreams. But when, as often happened, there came towering thick masses of snowy clouds, like mountain peaks and battlements in the bright blue sky, her delight was so great that she could find no words to express it. At such times--sometimes with Glynn by her side, sometimes alone--she would sit in a sunny nook, or in a shady nook if she felt too warm, and invite innumerable hosts of fairies to come and conduct her through interminable tracts of pure-white cloud region, and order such unheard-of wild creatures (each usually wanting a tail, or a leg, or an ear) to come out of the dark caves, that had they been all collected in one garden for exhibition to the public, that zoological garden would have been deemed, out of sight, the greatest of all the wonders of the world! When a little wearied with those aerial journeys she would return to "Fairyland," and, leaning over the brinks of the pools, peer down into their beautiful depths for hours at a time. Ailie's property of Fairyland had gardens, too, of the richest possible kind, full of flowers of the most lovely and brilliant hues. But the flowers were scentless, and, alas! she could not pluck them, for those gardens were all under water; they grew at the bottom of the sea! Yes, reader, if the land was barren on that ocean islet, the pools there made up for it by presenting to view the most luxuriant marine vegetation. There were forests of branching coral of varied hues; there were masses of fan-shaped sponges; there were groves of green and red sea-weeds; and beds of red, and white, and orange, and striped creatures that stuck to the rocks, besides little fish with bright coloured backs that played there as if they really enjoyed living always under water-- which is not easy for us, you know, to realise! And above all, the medium of water between Ailie and these things was so pure and pellucid when no breeze fanned the surface, that it was difficult to believe, unless you touched it, there was any water there at all. While Ailie thus spent her time, or at least her leisure time, for she was by no means an idler in that busy little isle, the men were actively engaged each day in transporting provisions from the _Red Eric_ to the sandbank, and in making them as secure as circumstances would admit of. For this purpose a raft had been constructed, and several trips a day were made to and from the wreck, so that in the course of a few days a considerable stock of provisions was accumulated on the bank. This was covered with tarpaulin, and heavy casks of salt junk were placed on the corners and edges to keep it down. "I'll tell ye wot it is, messmates," remarked Gurney, one day, as they sat down round their wood fire to dine in front of their tent, "we're purvisioned for six months at least, an' if the weather only keeps fine I've no objection to remain wotiver." "Maybe," said Briant, "ye'll have to remain that time whether ye object or not." "By no means, Paddy," retorted Gurney; "I could swum off to sea and be drownded if I liked." "No ye couldn't, avic," said Briant. "Why not?" demanded Gurney. "'Cause ye haven't the pluck," replied Phil. "I'll pluck the nose off yer face," said Gurney, in affected anger. "No ye won't," cried Phil, "'cause av ye do I'll spile the soup by heavin' it all over ye." "Oh!" exclaimed Gurney, with a look of horror, "listen to him, messmates, he calls it `_soup_'--the nasty kettle o' dirty water! Well, well, it's lucky we hain't got nothin' better to compare it with." "But, I say, lads," interposed Jim Scroggles, seriously, "wot'll we do if it comes on to blow a gale and blows away all our purvisions?" "Ay, boys," cried Dick Barnes, "that 'ere's the question, as Hamlet remarked to his grandfather's ghost; wot is to come on us supposin' it comes on to blow sich a snorin' gale as'll blow the whole sandbank away, carryin' us and our prog overboard along with it?" "Wot's that there soup made of?" demanded Tim Rokens. "Salt junk and peas," replied Nikel Sling. "Ah! I thought there was somethin' else in it," said Tim, carelessly, "for it seems to perdooce oncommon bad jokes in them wot eats of it." "Now, Tim, don't you go for to be sorcostic, but tell us a story." "Me tell a story? No, no, lads; there's Glynn Proctor, he's the boy for you. Where is he?" "He's aboard the wreck just now. The cap'n sent him for charts and quadrants, and suchlike cooriosities. Come, Gurney, tell you one if Tim won't. How wos it, now, that you so mistook yer trade as to come for to go to sea?" "I can't very well tell ye," answered Gurney, who, having finished dinner, had lit his pipe, and was now extended at full length on the sand, leaning on one arm. "Ye see, lads, I've had more or less to do with the sea, I have, since ever I comed into this remarkable world--not that I ever, to my knowledge, knew one less coorous, for I never was up in the stars; no more, I s'pose, was ever any o' you. I was born at sea, d'ye see? I don't 'xactly know how I comed for to be born there, but I wos told that I wos, and if them as told me spoke truth, I s'pose I wos. I was washed overboard in gales three times before I comed for to know myself at all. When I first came alive, so to speak, to my own certain knowledge, I wos a-sitting on the top of a hen-coop aboard an East Indiaman, roarin' like a mad bull as had lost his senses; 'cause why? the hens wos puttin' their heads through the bars o' the coops, and pickin' at the calves o' my legs as fierce as if they'd suddenly turned cannibals, and rather liked it. From that time I began a life o' misery. My life before that had bin pretty much the same, it seems, but I didn't know it, so it didn't matter. D'ye know, lads, when ye don't know a thing it's all the same as if it didn't exist, an' so, in coorse, it don't matter." "Oh!" exclaimed the first mate, who came up at the moment, "'ave hany o' you fellows got a note-book in which we may record that horacular and truly valuable hobserwation?" No one happening to possess a note-book, Gurney was allowed to proceed with his account of himself. "Ships has bin my houses all along up to this here date. I don't believe, lads as ever I wos above two months ashore at a time all the coorse of my life, an' mostly not as long as that. The smell o' tar and the taste o' salt water wos the fust things I iver comed across--'xcept the Line, I comed across that jist about the time I wos born, so I'm told--and the smell o' tar and taste o' salt water's wot I've bin used to most o' my life, and moreover, wot I likes best. One old gentleman as took a fancy to me w'en I wos a boy, said to me, one fine day, w'en I chanced to be ashore visitin' my mother--says he, `My boy, would ye like to go with me and live in the country, and be a gardner?' `Wot,' says I, `keep a garding, and plant taters, and hoe flowers an' cabidges?' `Yes,' says he, `at least, somethin' o' that sort.' `No, thankee,' says I; `I b'long to the sea, I do; I wouldn't leave that 'ere no more nor I would quit my first love if I had one. I'm a sailor, I am, out and out, through and through--true blue, and no mistake, an' no one need go for to try to cause me for to forsake my purfession, and live on shore like a turnip'--that's wot I says to that old gen'lemen. Yes, lads, I've roamed the wide ocean, as the song says, far an' near. I've bin tattooed by the New Zealanders, and I've danced with the Hottentots, and ate puppy dogs with the Chinese, and fished whales in the North Seas, and run among the ice near the South Pole, and fowt with pirates, and done service on boord of men-o'-war and merchantmen, and junks, and bumboats; but I never," concluded Gurney, looking round with a sigh, "I never came for to be located on a sandbank in the middle of the ocean." "No more did any on us," added Rokens, "Moreover, if we're not picked up soon by a ship o' some sort, we're not likely to be located here long, for we can't live on salt junk for ever; we shall all die o' the scurvy." There was just enough of possible and probable truth in the last remark to induce a feeling of sadness among the men for a few minutes, but this was quickly put to flight by the extraordinary movements of Phil Briant. That worthy had left the group round the fire, and had wandered out to the extreme end of the rocky point, where he sat down to indulge, possibly in sad, or mayhap hopeful reflections. He was observed to start suddenly up, and gaze into the sea eagerly for a few seconds; then he cut a caper, slapped his thigh, and ran hastily towards the tent. "What now? where away, Phil?" cried one of the men. Briant answered not, but speedily reappeared at the opening of the tent door with a fishing-line and hook. Hastening to the point of rock, he opened a small species of shell-fish that he found there, wherewith he baited his hook, and then cast it into the sea. In a few minutes he felt a twitch, which caused him to return a remarkably vigorous twitch, as it were in reply. The fish and the sailor for some minutes acted somewhat the part of electricians in a telegraph office; when the fish twitched, Briant twitched; when the fish pulled and paused, Briant pulled and paused, and when the fish held on hard, Briant pulled hard, and finally pulled him ashore, and a very nice plump rock-codling he was. There were plenty of them, so in a short time there was no lack of fresh fish, and Rokens' fear that they would have to live on salt junk was not realised. Fishing for rock-codlings now became one of the chief recreations of the men while not engaged in bringing various necessaries from the wreck. But for many days at first they found their hands fully occupied in making their new abode habitable, in enlarging and improving the tent, which soon by degrees came to merit the name of a hut, and in inventing various ingenious contrivances for the improvement of their condition. It was not until a couple of weeks had passed that time began to hang heavy on their hands and fishing became a general amusement. They all fished, except Jacko. Even Ailie tried it once or twice, but she did not like it and soon gave it up. As for Jacko, he contented himself with fishing with his hands, in a sly way, among the provision casks, at which occupation he was quite an adept; and many a nice tit-bit did he fish up and secrete in his private apartment for future use. Like many a human thief, Jacko was at last compelled to leave the greater part of his ill-gotten and hoarded gains behind him. One day Glynn and Ailie sat by the margin of a deep pool in Fairyland, gazing down into its clear depths. The sun's rays penetrated to the very bottom, revealing a thousand beauties in form and colour that called forth from Ailie the most extravagant expressions of admiration. She wound up one of those eloquent bursts by saying-- "Oh, Glynn, how very, _very_ much I do wish I could go down there and play with the dear, exquisite, darling little fishes!" "You'd surprise them, I suspect," said Glynn. "It's rather too deep a pool to play in unless you were a mermaid." "How deep is it, Glynn?" "'Bout ten feet, I think." "So much? It does not look like it. What a very pretty bit of coral I see over there, close to the white rock; do you see it? It is bright pink. Oh, I would like _so_ much to have it." "Would you?" cried Glynn, jumping up and throwing off his jacket; "then here goes for it." So saying he clasped his hands above his head, and bending forward, plunged into the pool and went straight at the piece of pink coral, head-foremost, like an arrow! Glynn was lightly clad. His costume consisted simply of a pair of white canvas trousers and a blue striped shirt, with a silk kerchief round his neck, so that his movements in the water were little, if at all, impeded by his clothes. At the instant he plunged into the water King Bumble happened to approach, and while Ailie stood, petrified with fear as she saw Glynn struggling violently at the bottom of the pool, her sable companion stood looking down with a grin from ear to ear that displayed every one of his white teeth. "Don't be 'fraid, Missie Ally," said the negro; "him's know wot him's doin', ho yis!" Before Ailie could reply, Glynn was on the surface spluttering and brushing the hair from his forehead with one hand, while with the other he hugged to his breast the piece of pink coral. "Here--it--ha!--is. My breath--oh--is a'most gone--Ailie--catch hold!" cried he, as he held out the coveted piece of rock to the child, and scrambled out of the pool. "Oh, thank you, Glynn; but why did you go down so quick and stay so long? I got _such_ a fright." "You bin pay your 'spects to de fishes," said Bumble, with a grin. "Yes, I have, Bumble, and they say that if you stare at them any longer with your great goggle eyes they'll all go mad with horror and die right off. Have you caught any codlings, Bumble?" "Yis, me hab, an' me hab come for to make a preeposol to Missie Ally." "A what, Bumble?" "A preeposol--a digestion." "I suppose you mean a suggestion, eh?" "Yis, dat the berry ting." "Well, out with it." "Dis am it. Me ketch rock-coddles; well, me put 'em in bucket ob water an' bring 'em to you, Missie Ally, an' you put 'em into dat pool and tame 'em, an' hab great fun with 'em. Eeh! wot you tink?" "Oh, it will be _so_ nice. How good of you to think about it, Bumble; do get them as quick as you can." Bumble looked grave and hesitated. "Why, what's wrong?" inquired Glynn. "Oh, noting. Me only tink me not take the trouble to put 'em into dat pool where de fishes speak so imperently ob me. Stop, me will go an' ask if dey sorry for wot dey hab say." So saying the negro uttered a shout, sprang straight up into the air, doubled his head down and his heels up, and cleft the water like a knife. Glynn uttered a cry something between a yell and a laugh, and sprang after him, falling flat on the water and dashing the whole pool into foam, and there the two wallowed about like two porpoises, to the unbounded delight of Ailie, who stood on the brink laughing until the tears ran down her cheeks, and to the unutterable horror, no doubt, of the little fish. The rock-codlings were soon caught and transferred to the pool, in which, after that, neither Glynn nor Bumble were suffered to dive or swim, and Ailie succeeded, by means of regularly feeding them, in making the little fish less afraid of her than they were at first. But while Ailie and Glynn were thus amusing themselves and trying to make the time pass as pleasantly as possible, Captain Dunning was oppressed with the most anxious forebodings. They had now been several weeks on the sandbank. The weather had, during that time, been steadily fine and calm, and their provisions were still abundant, but he knew that this could not last. Moreover, he found on consulting his charts that he was far out of the usual course of ships, and that deliverance could only be expected in the shape of a chance vessel. Oppressed with these thoughts, which, however, he carefully concealed from every one except Tim Rokens and the doctor, the captain used to go on the point of rocks every day and sit there for hours, gazing out wistfully over the sea. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. MATTERS GROW WORSE AND WORSE--THE MUTINY--COMMENCEMENT OF BOAT-BUILDING, AND THREATENING STORMS. One afternoon, about three weeks after the _Red Eric_ had been wrecked on the sandbank, Captain Dunning went out on the point of rocks, and took up his accustomed position there. Habit had now caused him to go to the point with as much regularity as a sentinel. But on the present occasion anxiety was more deeply marked on his countenance than usual, for dark, threatening clouds were seen accumulating on the horizon, an unnatural stillness prevailed in the hot atmosphere and on the glassy sea, and everything gave indication of an approaching storm. While he sat on a low rock, with his elbows on his knees, and his chin resting in his hands, he felt a light touch on his shoulder, and looking round, found Ailie standing by his side. Catching her in his arms, he pressed her fervently to his heart, and for the first time spoke to her in discouraging tones. "My own darling," said he, parting the hair from her forehead, and gazing at the child with an expression of the deepest sadness, "I fear we shall _never_ quit this dreary spot." Ailie looked timidly in her father's face, for his agitated manner, more than his words, alarmed her. "Won't we leave it, dear papa," said she, "to go up yonder?" and she pointed to a gathering mass of clouds overhead, which, although heavy with dark shadows, had still a few bright, sunny points of resemblance to the fairy realms in which she delighted to wander in her daydreams. The captain made no reply; but, shutting his eyes, and drawing Ailie close to his side, he uttered a long and fervent prayer to God for deliverance, if He should see fit, or for grace to endure with Christian resignation and fortitude whatever He pleased to send upon them. When he concluded, and again looked up, Dr Hopley was standing beside them, with his head bowed upon his breast. "I fear, doctor," said the captain, "that I have broken my resolution not to alarm my dear Ailie by word or look. Yet why should I conceal from her the danger of our position? Her prayers for help ought to ascend, as well as ours, to Him who alone can deliver us from evil at any time, but who makes us to _feel_, as well as _know_, the fact at such times as these." "But I am not afraid, papa," said Ailie quickly. "I'm never afraid when you are by me; and I've known we were in danger all along, for I've heard everybody talking about it often and often, and I've _always_ prayed for deliverance, and surely it must come; for has not Jesus said if we ask anything in His name He will give it to us?" "True, darling; but He means only such things as will do us good." "Of course, papa, if I asked for a bad thing, I would not expect Him to give me that." "Deliverance from death," said the doctor, "is a good thing, yet we cannot be sure that God will grant our prayer for that." "There are worse things than death, doctor," replied the captain; "it may be sometimes better for men to die than to live. It seems to me that we ought to use the words, `if it please the Lord,' more frequently than we do in prayer. Deliverance from sin needs no such `if,' but deliverance from death does." At this point the conversation was interrupted by Tim Rokens, who came up to the captain, and said respectfully-- "If ye please, sir, it 'ud be as well if ye wos to speak to the men; there's somethin' like mutiny a-goin' on, I fear." "Mutiny! why, what about?" "It's about the spirits. Some on 'em says as how they wants to enjoy theirselves here as much as they can, for they won't have much chance o' doin' so ashore any more. It's my belief that fellow Tarquin's at the bottom o't." "There's not much spirits aboard the wreck to fight about," said the captain, somewhat bitterly, as they all rose, and hurried towards the hut. "I only brought a supply for medicine; but it must not be touched, however little there is." When the captain came up, he found the space in front of their rude dwelling a scene of contention and angry dispute that bade fair to end in a fight. Tarquin was standing before the first mate, with his knife drawn, and using violent language and gesticulations towards him, while the latter stood by the raft, grasping a handspike, with which he threatened to knock the steward down if he set foot on it. The men were grouped round them, some with looks that implied a desire to side with Tarquin, while others muttered "Shame!" "Shame!" cried Tarquin, looking fiercely round on his shipmates, "who cried shame? We're pretty sure all on us to be starved to death on this reef; and it's my opinion, that since we haven't got to live long, we should try to enjoy ourselves as much as we can. There's not much spirits aboard, more's the pity; but what there is I shall have. So again I say, who cried `Shame?'" "I did," said Glynn Proctor, stepping quickly forward; "and I invite all who think with me to back me up." "Here ye are, me boy," said Phil Briant, starting forward, and baring his brawny arms, as was his invariable custom in such circumstances. "It's meself as'll stick by ye, lad, av the whole crew should go with that half-caste crokidile." Gurney and Dick Barnes immediately sided with Glynn also, but Jim Scroggles and Nikel Sling, and, to the surprise of every one, Markham, the second mate, sided with the steward. As the opposing parties glanced at each other, Glynn observed that, although his side was superior in numbers, some of the largest and most powerful men of the crew were among his opponents, and he felt that a conflict between such men must inevitably be serious. Matters had almost come to a crisis when Dr Hopley and the captain approached the scene of action. The latter saw at a glance the state of affairs, and stepping up to the steward, ordered him at once into the hut. Tarquin seemed to waver for a moment under the stern gaze of his commander; but he suddenly swore a terrible oath, and said that he would not obey. "You're no longer in command of us," he said gruffly, "now that you have lost your ship. Every man may do what he pleases." "May he?" replied the captain; "then it pleases me to do that!" and, launching out his clenched right hand with all his might, he hit the steward therewith right between the eyes. Tarquin went down as if he had been shot, and lay stunned and at full length upon the sand. "Now, my lads," cried the captain, turning towards the men, "what he said just now is so far right. Having lost my ship, I am no longer entitled to command you; but my command does not cease unless a majority of you choose that it should. Tarquin has taken upon himself to decide the question, without asking your opinion, which amounts to mutiny, and mutiny, under the circumstances in which we are placed, requires to be promptly dealt with. I feel it right to say this, because I am a man of peace, as you well know, and do not approve of a too ready appeal to the fists for the settlement of a dispute." "Ah, then, more's the pity!" interrupted Briant, "for ye use them oncommon well." A suppressed laugh followed this remark. "Silence, men, this is no time for jesting. One of our shipmates has, not long since, been taken suddenly from us; it may be that we shall all of us be called into the presence of our Maker before many days pass over us. We have much to do that will require to be done promptly and well, if we would hope to be delivered at all, and the question must be decided _now_ whether I am to command you, or every one is to do what he pleases." "I votes for Cap'en Dunning," exclaimed Gurney. "So does I," cried Jim Scroggles; who, being somewhat weather-cockish in his nature, turned always with wonderful facility to the winning side. "Three cheers for the cap'en," cried Dick Barnes, suiting the action to the word. Almost every voice joined in the vociferous cheer with which this proposal was received. "An' wan more for Miss Ailie," shouted Phil Briant. Even Jacko lent his voice to the tremendous cheer that followed, for Briant in his energy chanced to tread on that creature's unfortunate tail, which always seemed to be in his own way as well as in that of every one else, and the shriek that he uttered rang high above the laughter into which the cheer degenerated, as some one cried, "Ah, Pat, trust you, my boy, for rememberin' the ladies!" Order having been thus happily restored, and Captain Dunning having announced that the late attempt at mutiny should thenceforth be buried in total oblivion, a council was called, in order to consider seriously their present circumstances, and to devise, if possible, some means of escape. "My lads," said the captain, when they were all assembled, "I've been ponderin' over matters ever since we were cast away on this bank, an' I've at last come to the conclusion that our only chance of gettin' away is to build a small boat and fit her out for a long voyage. I need not tell you that this chance is a poor one--well-nigh a forlorn hope. Had it been better I would have spoken before now, and began the work sooner; but I have lived from day to day in the hope of a ship heaving in sight. This is a vain hope. We are far out of the usual track of all ships here. None come this way, except such as may chance to be blown out of their course, as we were; and even if one did come within sight, it's ten chances to one that we should fail to attract attention on such a low bank as this. "I've had several reliable observations of late, and I find that we are upwards of two thousand miles from the nearest known land, which is the Cape of Good Hope. I propose, therefore, that we should strip off as much of the planking of the wreck as will suit our purpose, get the carpenter's chest landed, and commence work at once. Now, what say you? If anyone has a better plan to suggest, I'll be only to glad to adopt it, for such a voyage in so slim a craft as we can build here will be one necessarily replete with danger." "I'll tell ye wot it is, cap'en," said Tim Rokens, rising up, taking off his cap, and clearing his throat, as if he were about to make a studied oration. "We've not none on us got no suggestions to make wotsomdiver. You've only got to give the word and we'll go to work; an' the sooner you does so the better, for it's my b'lief we'll have a gale afore long that'll pretty well stop work altogether as long as it lasts." The indications in the sky gave such ample testimony to the justness of Rokens' observations that no more time was wasted in discussion. Dick Barnes, who acted the part of ship's carpenter when not otherwise engaged, went out to the wreck on the raft, with a party of men under command of Mr Millons, to fetch planking and the necessary material for the construction of a boat, while the remainder of the crew, under the captain's superintendence, prepared a place near Fairyland for laying the keel. This spot was selected partly on account of the convenient formation of the shore for the launching of the boat when finished, and partly because that would be the lee side of the rocky point when the coming storm should burst. For the latter reason the hut was removed to Fairyland, and poor Ailie had the mortification in a few hours of seeing her little paradise converted into an unsightly wreck of confusion. Alas! how often this is the case in human affairs of greater moment; showing the folly of setting our hearts on the things of earth. It seems at first sight a hard passage, that, in the Word of God. "What?" the enthusiastic but thoughtless are ready to exclaim, "not love the world! the bright, beautiful world that was made by God to be enjoyed? Not love our fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, wives? not give our warmest affections to all these?" Truly, ye hasty ones, if you would but earnestly consider it, you would find that God not only permits, but requires us to love all that is good and beautiful here, as much as we will, as much as we can; but we ought to love Himself _more_. If this be our happy condition, then our hearts are not "set on the world"; on the contrary, they are set free to love the world and all that is lovable in it--of which there is very, very much--more, probably than the best of men suppose. Else, wherefore does the Father love it and care for it so tenderly? But Ailie had not set her heart on her possessions on the sandbank. She felt deep regret for a time, it is true, and in feeling thus she indulged a right and natural impulse, but that impulse did not lead to the sin of murmuring. Her sorrow soon passed away, and she found herself as cheerful and happy afterwards in preparing for her long, long voyage as ever she had been in watching the gambols of her fish, or in admiring the lovely hues of the weeds and coral rocks in the limpid pools of Fairyland. It was a fortunate circumstance that Captain Dunning set about the preparations for building the boat that afternoon, for the storm burst upon them sooner than had been expected, and long before all the requisite stores and materials had been rafted from the wreck. The most important things, however, had been procured--such as the carpenter's chest, a large quantity of planking, oakum, and cordage, and several pieces of sail cloth, with the requisite thread and needles for making boat sails. Still, much was wanting when the increasing violence of the wind compelled them to leave off work. Some of the men were now ordered to set about securing such materials as had been collected, while others busied themselves in fixing ropes to the hut and rolling huge masses of coral rock against its fragile walls to steady it. "Av ye plaze, sir," said Briant to the Captain, wiping his forehead as he approached with a lump of tarry canvas which he used in default of a better pocket-handkerchief, "av ye plaze, sir, wot'll I do now?" "Do something useful, lad, whatever you do," said the captain, looking up from the hole which he was busily engaged in digging for the reception of a post to steady the hut. "There's lots of work; you can please yourself as to choice." "Then I comed fur to suggist that the purvisions and things a-top o' the sandbank isn't quite so safe as they might be." "True, Briant; I was just thinking of that as you came up. Go and see you make a tight job of it. Get Rokens to help you." Briant hurried off, and calling his friend, walked with him to the top of the sandbank, leaning heavily against the gale, and staggering as they went. The blast now whistled so that they could scarcely hear each other talk. "We'll be blowed right into the sea," shouted Tim, as the two reached a pile of casks and cases. "Sure, that's me own belaif entirely," roared his companion. "What d'ye say to dig a hole and stick the things in it?" yelled Rokens. "We're not fit," screamed Phil. "Let's try," shrieked the other. To this Briant replied by falling on his knees on the lee side of the goods, and digging with his hands in the sand most furiously. Tim Rokens followed his example, and the two worked like a couple of sea-moles (if such creatures exist) until a hole capable of holding several casks was formed. Into this they stowed all the biscuit casks and a few other articles, and covered them up with sand. The remainder they covered with tarpaulin, and threw sand and stones above it until the heap was almost buried out of sight. This accomplished, they staggered back to the hut as fast as they could. Here they found everything snugly secured, and as the rocks effectually sheltered the spot from the gale, with the exception of an occasional eddying blast that drove the sand in their faces, they felt comparatively comfortable. Lighting their pipes, they sat down among their comrades to await the termination of the storm. CHAPTER NINETEEN. THE STORM. A storm in almost all circumstances is a grand and solemnising sight, one that forces man to feel his own weakness and his Maker's might and majesty. But a storm at sea in southern latitudes, where the winds are let loose with a degree of violence that is seldom or never experienced in the temperate zones, is so terrific that no words can be found to convey an adequate idea of its appalling ferocity. The storm that at this time burst upon the little sandbank on which the shipwrecked crew had found shelter, was one of the most furious, perhaps, that ever swept the seas. The wind shrieked as if it were endued with life, tore up the surface of the groaning deep into masses and shreds of foam, which it whirled aloft in mad fury, and then dissipated into a thin blinding mist that filled the whole atmosphere, so that one could scarcely see a couple of yards beyond the spot on which he stood. The hurricane seemed to have reached its highest point soon after sunset that night, and a ray of light from the moon struggled ever and anon through the black hurtling clouds, as if to reveal to the cowering seamen the extreme peril of their situation. The great ocean was lashed into a wide sheet of foam, and the presence of the little isle in the midst of that swirling waste of water was indicated merely by a slight circle of foam that seemed whiter than the rest of the sea. The men sat silently in their frail hut, listening to the howling blast without. A feeling of awe crept over the whole party, and the most careless and the lightest of heart among the crew of the _Red Eric_ ceased to utter his passing jest, and became deeply solemnised as the roar of the breakers filled his ear, and reminded him that a thin ledge of rock alone preserved him from instant destruction. "The wind has shifted a point," said the captain, who had just risen and opened a chink of the rude door of the hut in order to look out. "I see that the keel of the boat is all fast and the planking beside it. The coral rock shelters it just now; but if the wind goes on shifting I fear it will stand a poor chance." "We'd better go out and give it a hextra fastening," suggested Mr Millons. "Not yet. There's no use of exposing any of the men to the risk of being blown away. The wind may keep steady, in which case I've no fear for it." "I dun know," said Rokens, who sat beside Ailie, close to the embers of their fire, with a glowing cinder from which he re-lighted his pipe for at least the twentieth time that night. "You never can tell wot's a-goin' to turn up. I'll go out, cap'en, if ye like, and see that all's fast." "Perhaps you're right, Tim; you may make a bolt across to it, and heave another rock or two on the planking if it seems to require it." The seaman rose, and putting aside his pipe, threw off his coat, partly in order that he might present as small a surface to the wind as possible, and partly that he might have a dry garment to put on when he returned. As he opened the little door of the hut a rude gust of wind burst in, filling the apartment with spray, and scattering the embers of the fire. "I feared as much," said the captain, as he and the men started up to gather together the pieces of glowing charcoal; "that shows the wind's shifted another point; if it goes round two points more it'll smash our boat to pieces. Look sharp, Tim." "Lean well against the wind, me boy," cried Briant, in a warning voice. Thus admonished, Rokens issued forth, and dashed across the open space that separated the hut from the low ledge of coral rock behind which the keel of the intended boat and its planking were sheltered. A very few minutes sufficed to show Tim that all was fast, and to enable him to place a few additional pieces of rock above the heap in order to keep it down. Then he prepared to dart back again to the hut, from the doorway of which his proceedings, were watched by the captain and as many of the men as could crowd round it. Just as the harpooner sprang from the shelter of the rock the blast burst upon the bank with redoubled fury, as if it actually were a sentient being, and wished to catch the sailor in its rude grasp and whirl him away. Rokens bent his stout frame against it with all his might, and stood his ground for a few seconds like a noble tree on some exposed mountain side that has weathered the gales of centuries. Then he staggered, threw his arms wildly in the air, and a moment after was swept from the spot and lost to view in the driving spray that flew over the island. The thing was so instantaneous that the horrified onlookers could scarcely credit the evidence of their eyes, and they stood aghast for a moment or two ere their feelings found vent in a cry of alarm. Next instant Captain Dunning felt himself rudely pushed aside, and Briant leaped through the doorway, shouting, as he dashed out-- "If Tim Rokens goes, it's Phil Briant as'll go along with him." The enthusiastic Irishman was immediately lost to view, and Glynn Proctor was about to follow, when the captain seized him by the collar, dragged him back, and shut the door violently. "Keep back, lads," he cried, "no one must leave the hut. If these two men cannot save themselves by means of their own strong muscles, no human power can save them." Glynn, and indeed all of the men, felt this remark to be true, so they sat down round the fire, and looked in each other's faces with the expression of men who half believed they must be dreaming. Little was said during the next ten or fifteen minutes; indeed, it was difficult to make their voices heard, owing to the noise of the wind and dashing waves. The captain stood at the door, looking out from time to time with feelings of the deepest anxiety, each moment expecting to see the two sailors struggling back towards the hut; but they did not return. Soon the gale increased to such a degree that every one felt, although no one would acknowledge it even to himself, that there was now no hope of their comrades ever returning. The wind shifted another point; and now their lost shipmates were for a time forgotten in the anxieties of their own critical position, for their rocky ledge formed only a partial shelter, and every now and then the hut was shaken with a blast so terrible that it threatened to come down about their ears. "Don't you think our house will fall, dear papa?" inquired Ailie, as a gust more furious than any that had hitherto passed swept round the rocks, and shook the hut as if it had been made of pasteboard. "God knows, my darling; we are in His hands." Ailie tried to comfort herself with the thought that her Heavenly Father was indeed the ruler of the storm, and could prevent it from doing them harm if He pleased; but as gust after gust dashed against the frail building, and almost shook it down, while the loud rattling of the boards which composed it almost stunned her, an irresistible feeling of alarm crept over her, despite her utmost efforts to control herself. The captain now ordered the men to go out and see that the fastenings to windward and the supports to leeward of the hut remained firm, and to add more of them if possible. He set the example by throwing off his coat and leading the way. This duty was by no means so difficult or dangerous as that which had been previously performed by Rokens, for it must be remembered the hut as yet was only exposed to partial gusts of eddying wind, not to the full violence of the storm. It involved a thorough wetting, however, to all who went. In ten minutes the men re-entered, and put on their dry coats, but as no one knew how soon he might again be called upon to expose himself, none thought of changing his other garments. "Now, Ailie, my pet," said Captain Dunning, sitting down beside his child on the sandy floor of the hut, "we've done all we can. If the wind remains as it is our house will stand." "But have you not seen Rokens or Briant?" inquired Ailie with an anxious face, while the tears rolled over her cheeks. The captain shook his head, but made no reply, and the men looked earnestly at each other, as if each sought to gather a ray of hope from the countenance of his friend. While they sat thus, a terrible blast shook the hut to its foundation. Again and again it came with ever-increasing violence, and then it burst on them with a continuous roar like prolonged thunder. "Look out," cried the captain, instinctively clasping Ailie in his arms, while the men sprang to their feet. The stout corner-posts bent over before the immense pressure, and the second mate placed his shoulder against one of those on the windward side of the hut, while Dick Barnes and Nikel Sling did the same to the other. "It's all up with us," cried Tarquin, as part of the roof blew off, and a deluge of water and spray burst in upon them, extinguishing the fire and leaving them in total darkness. At that moment Ailie felt herself seized round the waist by a pair of tiny arms, and putting down her hand, she felt that Jacko was clinging to her with a tight but trembling grasp. Even in that hour of danger, the child experienced a sensation of pleasure at the mere thought that there was one living creature there which looked up to and clung to her for protection; and although she knew full well that if the stout arm of her father which encircled her were removed, her own strength, in their present circumstances, could not have availed to protect herself, yet she felt a gush of renewed strength and courage at her heart when the poor little monkey put its trembling arms around her. "Lay your shoulders to the weather-wall, lads," cried the captain, as another rush of wind bore down in the devoted hut. The men obeyed, but their united strength availed nothing against the mighty power that raged without. The wind, as the captain had feared, went round another point, and they were now exposed to the unbroken force of the hurricane. For a few minutes the stout corner-posts of the hut held up, then they began to rend and crack. "Bear down with the blast to the lee of the rocks, lads," cried the captain; "it's your only chance; don't try to face it." Almost before the words left his lips the posts snapped with a loud crash; the hut was actually lifted off the ground by the wind, and swept completely away, while most of the men were thrown violently to the ground by the wreck as it passed over their heads. The captain fell like the rest, but he retained his grasp of Ailie, and succeeded in rising, and as the gale carried him away with irresistible fury he bore firmly down to his right, and gained the eddy caused by the rocks which until now had sheltered the hut. He was safe; but he did not feel secure until he had staggered towards the most sheltered part, and placed his child in a cleft of the rock. Here he found Gurney and Tarquin before him, and soon after Glynn came staggering in, along with one or two others. In less than three minutes after the hut had been blown away, all the men were collected in the cleft, where they crouched down to avoid the pelting, pitiless spray that dashed over their heads. It is difficult to conceive a more desperate position than that in which they were now placed, yet there and at that moment a thrill of joy passed through the hearts of most, if not all of them, for they heard a shout which was recognised to be the voice of Tim Rokens. It came from the rocks a few yards to their right, and almost ere it had died away, Rokens himself staggered into the sheltering cleft of rock, accompanied by Phil Briant. Some of the men who had faced the dangers to which they had been exposed with firm nerves and unblanched cheeks, now grew pale, and trembled violently, for they actually believed that the spirits of their lost shipmates had come to haunt them. But these superstitious fears were soon put to flight by the hearty voice of the harpooner, who shook himself like a great Newfoundland dog as he came up, and exclaimed-- "Why, wot on airth has brought ye all here?" "I think we may say, what has brought _you_ here?" replied the captain, as he grasped them each by the hand and shook them with as much energy as if he had not met them for ten years past. "It's aisy to tell that," said Briant, as he crouched down in the midst of the group; "Tim and me wos blow'd right across the bank, an' we should no doubt ha' bin blow'd right into the sea, but Tim went full split agin one o' the casks o' salt junk, and I went slap agin _him_, and we lay for a moment all but dead. Then we crep' in the lee o' the cask, an' lay there till a lull came, when we clapped on all sail, an' made for the shelter o' the rocks, an' shure we got there niver a taste too soon, for it came on to blow the next minit, fit to blow the eyelids off yer face, it did." "It's a fact," added Rokens. "Moreover, we tried to git round to the hut, but as we wos twice nearly blowed away w'en we tried for to double the point, we 'greed to stay where we wos till the back o' the gale should be broke. But, now, let's hear wot's happened." "The hut's gone," said Gurney, in reply. "Blowed clean over our heads to--I dun know where." "Blowed away?" cried Rokens and Briant, in consternation. "Not a stick left," replied the captain. "An' the boat?" inquired Briant. "It's gone too, I fancy; but we can't be sure." "Then it's all up, boys," observed Briant; "for nearly every morsel o' the prog that wos on the top o' the bank is washed away." This piece of news fell like a thunderbolt on the men, and no one spoke for some minutes. At last the captain said-- "Well, lads, we must do the best we can. Thank God, we are still alive; so let us see whether we can't make our present quarters more comfortable." Setting his men the example, Captain Dunning began to collect the few boards, and bits of canvas that chanced to have been left on that side of the rocky ledge when the hut was removed to the other side, and with these materials a very partial and insufficient shelter was put up. But the space thus inclosed was so small that they were all obliged to huddle together in a mass. Those farthest from the rock were not altogether protected from the spray that flew over their heads, while those nearest to it were crushed and incommoded by their companions. Thus they passed that eventful night and all the following day, during which the storm raged with such fury that no one dared venture out to ascertain how much, if any, of their provisions and stores were left to them. During the second night, a perceptible decrease in the violence of the gale took place, and before morning it ceased altogether. The sun rose in unclouded splendour, sending its bright and warm beams up into the clear blue sky and down upon the ocean, which glittered vividly as it still swelled and trembled with agitation. All was serene and calm in the sky, while below the only sound that broke upon the ear was the deep and regular dash of the great breakers that fell upon the shores of the islet, and encircled it with a fringe of purest white. On issuing from their confined uneasy nest in the cleft of the rock, part of the shipwrecked crew hastened anxiously to the top of the bank to see how much of their valuable store of food was left, while others ran to the spot in Fairyland where the keel of the new boat had been laid. The latter party found to their joy that all was safe, everything having been well secured; but a terrible sight met the eyes of the other men. Not a vestige of all their store remained! The summit of the sandbank was as smooth as on the day they landed there. Casks, boxes, barrels--all were gone; everything had been swept away into the sea! Almost instinctively the men turned their eyes towards the reef on which the _Red Eric_ had grounded, each man feeling that in the wrecked vessel all his hope now remained. It, too, was gone! The spot on which it had lain was now washed by the waves, and a few broken planks and spars on the beach were all that remained to remind them of their ocean home! The men looked at each other with deep despondency expressed in their countenances. They were haggard and worn from exposure, anxiety, and want of rest; and as they stood there in their wet, torn garments, they looked the very picture of despair. "There's one chance for us yet, lads," exclaimed Tim Rokens, looking carefully round the spot on which they stood. "What's that?" exclaimed several of the men eagerly, catching at their comrade's words as drowning men are said to catch at straws. "Briant an' me buried some o' the things, by good luck, when we were sent to make all snug here, an' I'm of opinion they'll be here yet, if we could only find the place. Let me see." Rokens glanced round at the rocks beside which their hut had found shelter, and at the reef where the ship had been wrecked, in order to find the "bearin's o' the spot," as he expressed it. Then walking a few yards to one side, he struck his foot on the sand and said, "It should be hereabouts." The blow of his heel returned a peculiar hollow sound, very unlike that produced by stamping on the mere sand. "Shure ye've hit the very spot, ye have," cried Briant, falling on his knees beside the place; and scraping up the sand with both hands. "It sounds uncommon like a bread-cask. Here it is. Hurrah! boys, lind a hand, will ye. There now, heave away; but trate it tinderly! Shure it's the only friend we've got in the wide world." "You're all wrong, Phil," cried Gurney, who almost at the same moment began to scrape another hole close by. "It's not our only one; here's another friend o' the same family. Bear a hand, lads!" "And here's another!" cried Ailie, with a little scream of delight, as she observed the rim of a small keg just peeping out above the sand. "Well done, Ailie," cried Glynn, as he ran to the spot and quickly dug up the keg in question, which, however, proved to be full of nails, to Ailie's great disappointment, for she expected it to have turned out a keg of biscuits. "How many casks did you bury?" inquired the captain. "It's meself can't tell," replied Briant; "d'ye know, Tim?" "Three, I think; but we was in sich a hurry that I ain't sartin exactly." "Well, then, boys, look here!" continued the captain, drawing a pretty large circle on the sand, "set to work like a band of moles an' dig up every inch o' that till you come to the water." "That's your sort," cried Rokens, plunging elbow-deep into the sand at once. "Arrah! then, here's at ye; a fair field an' no favour at any price," shouted Briant, baring his arms, straddling his legs, and sending a shower of sand behind him that almost overwhelmed Gurney, before that stout little individual could get out of the way. The spirits of the men were farther rejoiced by the coming up of the other party, bearing the good news that the keel of the boat was safe, as well as all her planking and the carpenter's tools, which fortunately happened to have been secured in a sheltered spot. From the depths of despair they were all suddenly raised to renewed and sanguine hope, so that they wrought with the energy of gold-diggers, and soon their toil was rewarded by the discovery of that which, in their circumstances, they would not have exchanged for all the golden nuggets that ever were or will be dug up from the prolific mines of Australia, California, or British Columbia, namely, three casks of biscuit, a small keg of wine, a cask of fresh water, a roll of tobacco, and a barrel of salt junk. CHAPTER TWENTY. PREPARATIONS FOR A LONG VOYAGE--BRIANT PROVES THAT GHOSTS CAN DRINK-- JACKO ASTONISHES HIS FRIENDS, AND SADDENS HIS ADOPTED MOTHER. "Wot _I_ say is one thing; wot _you_ say is another--so it is. I dun know w'ich is right, or w'ich is wrong--no more do you. P'raps you is, p'raps I is; anywise we can't both on us be right or both on us be wrong--that's a comfort, if it's nothin' else. Wot _you_ say is--that it's morally imposs'ble for a crew sich as us to travel over two thousand miles of ocean on three casks o' biscuit and a barrel o' salt junk. Wot _I_ say is--that we can, an', moreover, that morals has nothin' to do with it wotsomediver. Now, wot then?" Tim Rokens paused and looked at Gurney, to whom his remarks were addressed, as if he expected an answer. That rotund little seaman did not, however, appear to be thoroughly prepared to reply to "wot then," for he remained silent, but looked at his comrade as though to say, "I'll be happy to learn wisdom from your sagacious lips." "Wot then?" repeated Tim Rokens, assaulting his knee with his clenched fist in a peculiarly emphatic manner; "I'll tell ye wot then, as you may be right and I may be right, an' nother on us can be both right or wrong, I say as how that we don't know nothin' about it." Gurney looked as if he did not quite approve of so summary a method of solving such a knotty question, but observing from the expression of Rokens' countenance that, though he had paused, that philosopher had not yet concluded, he remained silent. "An', furthermore," continued Tim, "it's my opinion--seein' that we're both on us in such a state o' cumblebofubulation, an' don't know nothin'--we'd better go an' ax the cap'en, who does." "_You_ may save yourselves the trouble," observed Glynn Proctor, who at that moment came up and sat down on the rocks beside them, with a piece of the salt junk that formed an element in the question at issue, in his hand-- "I've just heard the captain give his opinion on that subject, and he says that the boat can be got ready in a week or less, and that, with strict economy, the provisions we have will last us long enough to enable us to make the Cape, supposing we have good weather and fair winds. That's _his_ opinion." "I told ye so," said Tim Rokens. "You did nothin' o' the sort," retorted Gurney. "Well, if ye come fur to be oncommon strick in the use o' your lingo, I did _not_ 'xactly tell ye so, but I _thought_ so, w'ich is all the same." "It ain't all the same," replied Gurney, whose temper seemed to have been a little soured by the prospects before him, "and you don't need to go for to be talkin' there like a great Solon as you are." "Wot's a Solon?" inquired Tim. "Solon was a man as thought his-self a great feelosopher, but he worn't, he wor an ass." "If I'm like Solon," retorted Rokens, "you're like a Solon-goose, w'ich is an animal as _don't_ think itself an ass, 'cause its too great a one to know it." Having thus floored his adversary, the philosophic mariner turned to Glynn and said-- "In course we can't expect to be on full allowance." "Of course not, old boy; the captain remarked, just as I left him, that we'd have to be content with short allowance--very short allowance indeed." Gurney sighed deeply. "How much?" inquired Tim. "About three ounces of biscuit, one ounce of salt junk, and a quarter of a pint of water per day." Gurney groaned aloud. "You, of all men," said Glynn, "have least reason to complain, Gurney, for you've got fat enough on your own proper person to last you a week at least!" "Ay, a fortnight, or more," added Rokens; "an' even then ye'd scarcely be redooced to a decent size." "Ah, but," pleaded Gurney, "you scarecrow creatures don't know how horrid sore the process o' comin' down is. An' one gets so cold, too. It's just like taking off yer clo's." "Sarves ye right for puttin' on so many," said Rokens, as he rose to resume work, which he and Gurney had left off three-quarters of an hour before, in order to enjoy a quiet, philosophical _tete-a-tete_ during dinner. "It's a bad business, that of the planking not being sufficient to deck or even half-deck the boat," observed Glynn, as they went together towards the place where the new boat was being built. "It is," replied Rokens; "but it's a good thing that we've got plenty of canvas to spare. It won't make an overly strong deck, to be sure; but it's better than nothin'." "A heavy sea would burst it in no time," remarked Gurney. "We must hope to escape heavy seas, then," said Glynn, as they parted, and went to their several occupations. The boat that was now building with the most urgent despatch, had a keel of exactly twenty-three feet long, and her breadth, at the widest part, was seven feet. She was being as well and firmly put together as the materials at their command would admit of, and, as far as the work had yet proceeded, she bid fair to become an excellent boat, capable of containing the whole crew, and their small quantity of provisions. This last was diminishing so rapidly, that Captain Dunning resolved to put all hands at once on short allowance. Notwithstanding this, the men worked hard and hopefully; for, as each plank and nail was added to their little bark, they felt as if they were a step nearer home. The captain and the doctor, however, and one or two of the older men, could not banish from their minds the fact that the voyage they were about to undertake was of the most perilous nature, and one which, in any other than the hopeless circumstances in which they were placed at that time, would have been regarded as the most desperate of forlorn hopes. For fourteen souls to be tossed about on the wide and stormy sea, during many weeks, it might be months, in a small open boat, crowded together and cramped, without sufficient covering, and on short allowance of food, was indeed a dreary prospect, even for the men--how much more so for the delicate child who shared their trials and sufferings? Captain Dunning's heart sank within him when he thought of it; but he knew how great an influence the conduct and bearing of a commander has, in such circumstances, on his men; so he strove to show a smiling, cheerful countenance, though oftentimes he carried a sad and anxious heart in his bosom. To the doctor and Tim Rokens alone did he reveal his inmost thoughts, because he knew that he could trust them, and felt that he needed their advice and sympathy. The work progressed so rapidly, that in a few days more the boat approached completion, and preparations were being made in earnest for finally quitting the little isle on which they had found a home for so many days. It was observed by the captain that as the work of boat-building drew to a close, Glynn Proctor continued to labour long after the others had retired to rest, wearied with the toils of the day--toils which they were not now so well able to bear as heretofore, on account of the slight want of vigour caused by being compelled to live on half allowance. One evening the captain went down to the building yard in Fairyland, and said to Glynn-- "Hallo, my boy! at it yet? Why, what are you making? A dog-kennel, eh?" "No; not exactly that," replied Glynn, laughing. "You'll hardly guess." "I would say it was a house for Jacko, only it seems much too big." "It's just possible that Jacko may have a share in it," said Glynn; "but it's not for him." "Who, then? Not for yourself, surely!" "It's for Ailie," cried Glynn gleefully. "Don't you think it will be required?" he added, looking up, as if he half feared the captain would not permit his contrivance to be used. "Well, I believe it will, my boy. I had intended to get some sort of covering for my dear Ailie put up in the stern-sheets; but I did not think of absolutely making a box for her." "Ah, you'll find it will be a capital thing at nights. I know she could never stand the exposure, and canvas don't keep out the rain well; so I thought of rigging up a large box, into which she can creep. I'll make air-holes in the roof that will let in air, but not water; and I'll caulk the seams with oakum, so as to keep it quite dry inside." "Thank you, my boy, it's very kind of you to take so much thought for my poor child. Yet she deserves it, Glynn, and we can't be too careful of her." The captain patted the youth on the shoulder, and, leaving him to continue his work, went to see Gurney, who had been ailing a little during the last few days. Brandy, in small quantities, had been prescribed by the doctor, and, fortunately, two bottles of that spirit had been swept from the wreck. Being their whole stock, Captain Dunning had stowed it carefully away in what he deemed a secret and secure place; but it turned out that some member of the crew was not so strict in his principles of temperance as could be desired; for, on going to the spot to procure the required medicine, it was found that one of the bottles was gone. This discovery caused the captain much anxiety and sorrow, for, besides inflicting on them the loss of a most valuable medicine, it proved that there was a thief in their little society. What was to be done? To pass it over in silence would have shown weakness, which, especially in the circumstances in which they were at that time placed, might have led at last to open mutiny. To discover the thief was impossible. The captain's mind was soon made up. He summoned every one of the party before him, and, after stating the discovery he had made, he said-- "Now, lads, I'm not going to charge any of you with having done this thing, but I cannot let it pass without warning you that if I discover any of you being guilty of such practices in future, I'll have the man tied up and give him three dozen with a rope's-end. You know I have never resorted, as many captains are in the habit of doing, to corporal punishment. I don't like it. I've sailed in command of ships for many years, and have never found it needful; but now, more than ever, strict discipline must be maintained; and I tell you, once for all, that I mean to maintain it _at any cost_." This speech was received in silence. All perceived the justice of it, yet some felt that, until the thief should be discovered, they themselves would lie under suspicion. A few there were, indeed, whose well-known and long-established characters raised them above suspicion, but there were others who knew that their character had not yet been established on so firm a basis, and they felt that until the matter should be cleared up, their honesty would be, mentally at least, called in question by their companions. With the exception of the disposition to mutiny related in a previous chapter, this was the first cloud that had risen to interrupt the harmony of the shipwrecked sailors, and as they returned to their work, sundry suggestions and remarks were made in reference to the possibility of discovering the delinquent. "I didn't think it wos poss'ble," said Rokens. "I thought as how there wasn't a man in the ship as could ha' done sich a low, mean thing as that." "No more did I," said Dick Barnes. "Wall, boys," observed Nikel Sling emphatically, "I guess as how that I don't believe it yet." "Arrah! D'ye think the bottle o' brandy stole his-self?" inquired Briant. "I ain't a-goin' fur to say that; but a ghost might ha' done it, p'raps, a-purpose to get us into a scrape." There was a slight laugh at this, and from that moment the other men suspected that Sling was the culprit. The mere fact of his being the first to charge the crime upon any one else--even a ghost--caused them, in spite of themselves, to come to this conclusion. They did not, however, by word or look, show what was passing in their minds, for the Yankee was a favourite with his comrades, and each felt unwilling that his suspicion should prove to be correct. "I don't agree with you," said Tarquin, who feared that suspicion might attach to himself, seeing that he had been the ringleader in the recent mutiny; "I don't believe that ghosts drink." "Och! that's all ye know!" cried Phil Briant. "Av ye'd only lived a month or two in Owld Ireland, ye'd have seen raison to change yer mind, ye would. Sure I've seed a ghost the worse o' liquor meself." "Oh! Phil, wot a stunner!" cried Gurney. "It's as true as me name's Phil Briant--more's the pity. Did I niver tell ye o' the Widdy Morgan, as had a ghost come to see her frequently?" "No, never--let's hear it." "Stop that noise with yer hammer, then, Tim Rokens, jist for five minutes, and I'll tell it ye." The men ceased work for a few minutes while their comrade spoke as follows-- "It's not a long story, boys, but it's long enough to prove that ghosts drink. "Ye must know that wance upon a time there wos a widdy as lived in a small town in the county o' Clare, in Owld Ireland, an' oh! but that was the place for drinkin' and fightin'. It wos there that I learned to use me sippers; and it wos there, too, that I learned to give up drinkin', for I comed for to see what a mighty dale o' harm it did to my poor countrymen. The sexton o' the place was the only man as niver wint near the grog-shop, and no wan iver seed him overtook with drink, but it was a quare thing that no wan could rightly understand why he used to _smell_ o' drink very bad sometimes. There wos a young widdy in that town, o' the name o' Morgan, as kep' a cow, an' owned a small cabin, an' a patch o' tater-ground about the size o' the starn sheets of our owld long-boat. She wos a great deal run after, wos this widdy--not that the young lads had an eye to the cow, or the cabin, or the tater-estate, by no manes--but she wos greatly admired, she wos. I admired her meself, and wint to see her pretty fraquent. Well, wan evenin' I wint to see her, an' says I, `Mrs Morgan, did ye iver hear the bit song called the Widdy Machree?' `Sure I niver did,' says she. `Would ye like to hear it, darlint?' says I. So she says she would, an' I gave it to her right off; an' when I'd done, says I, `Now, Widdy Morgan, ochone! will ye take _me_?' But she shook her head, and looked melancholy. `Ye ain't a-goin' to take spasms?' said I, for I got frightened at her looks. `No,' says she; `but there's a sacret about me; an' I like ye too well, Phil, to decaive ye; if ye only know'd the sacret, ye wouldn't have me at any price.' "`Wouldn't I?' says I; `try me, cushla, and see av I won't.' "`Phil Briant,' says she, awful solemn like, `I'm haunted.' "`Haunted!' says I; `'av coorse ye are, bliss yer purty face; don't I know that ivery boy in the parish is after ye?' "`It's not that I mane. It's a ghost as haunts me. It haunts me cabin, and me cow, and me tater-estate; an' it drinks.' "`Now, darlint,' says I, `everybody knows yer aisy frightened about ghosts. I don't belave in one meself, an' I don't mind 'em a farden dip; but av all the ghosts in Ireland haunted ye, I'd niver give ye up.' "`Will ye come an' see it this night?' says she. "`Av coorse I will,' says I. An' that same night I wint to her cabin, and she let me in, and put a candle on the table, an' hid me behind a great clock, in a corner jist close by the cupboard, where the brandy-bottle lived. Then she lay down on her bed with her clo's on, and pulled the coverlid over her, and pretinded to go to slape. In less nor half-an-hour I hears a fut on the doorstep; then a tap at the door, which opened, it seemed to me, of its own accord, and in walks the ghost, sure enough! It was covered all over from head to fut in a white sheet, and I seed by the way it walked that it wos the worse of drink. I wos in a mortal fright, ye may be sure, an' me knees shuk to that extint ye might have heard them rattle. The ghost walks straight up to the cupboard, takes out the brandy-bottle, and fills out a whole tumbler quite full, and drinks it off; it did, the baste, ivery dhrop. I seed it with me two eyes, as sure as I'm a-standin' here. It came into the house drunk, an' it wint out drunker nor it came in." "Is that all?" exclaimed several of Briant's auditors. "All! av coorse it is. Wot more would ye have? Didn't I say that I'd tell ye a story as would prove to ye that ghosts drink, more especially Irish ghosts? To be sure it turned out afterwards that the ghost was the sexton o' the parish as took advantage o' the poor widdy's fears; but I can tell ye, boys, that ghost niver came back after the widdy became Mrs Briant." "Oh! then ye married the widder, did ye?" said Jim Scroggles. "I did; an' she's alive and hearty this day av she's not--" Briant was interrupted by a sudden roar of laughter from the men, who at that moment caught sight of Jacko, the small monkey, in a condition of mind and body that, to say the least of it, did him no credit. We are sorry to be compelled to state that Jacko was evidently and undoubtedly tipsy. Gurney said he was "as drunk as a fiddler." We cannot take upon ourself to say whether he was or was not as drunk as that. We are rather inclined to think that fiddlers, as a class, are maligned, and that they are no worse than their neighbours in this respect, perhaps not so bad. Certainly, if any fiddler really deserves the imputation, it must be a violoncello player, because he is, properly speaking, a base-fiddler. Be this, however, as it may, Jacko was unmistakably drunk--in a maudlin state of intoxication--drunker, probably, than ever a monkey was before or since. He appeared, as he came slowly staggering forward to the place where the men were at work on the boat, to have just wakened out of his first drunken sleep, for his eyes were blinking like the orbs of an owl in the sunshine, and in his walk he placed his right foot where his left should have gone, and his left foot where his right should have gone, occasionally making a little run forward to save himself from tumbling on his nose, and then pulling suddenly up, and throwing up his arms in order to avoid falling on his back. Sometimes he halted altogether,--and swayed to and fro, gazing, meanwhile, pensively at the ground, as if he were wondering why it had taken to rolling and earthquaking in that preposterous manner; or were thinking on the bald-headed mother he had left behind him in the African wilderness. When the loud laugh of the men saluted his ears, Jacko looked up as quickly and steadily as he could, and grinned a ghastly smile--or something like it--as if to say, "What are you laughing at, villains?" It is commonly observed that, among men, the ruling passion comes out strongly when they are under the influence of strong drink. So it is with monkeys. Jacko's ruling passion was thieving; but having, at that time, no particular inducement to steal, he indulged his next ruling passion--that of affection--by holding out both arms, and staggering towards Phil Briant to be taken up. A renewed burst of laughter greeted this movement. "It knows ye, Phil," cried Jim Scroggles. "Ah! then, so it should, for it's meself as is good to it. Come to its uncle, then. O good luck to yer purty little yaller face. So it wos you stole the brandy, wos it? Musha! but ye might have know'd ye belonged to a timp'rance ship, so ye might." Jacko spread his arms on Briant's broad chest--they were too short to go round his neck--laid his head thereon, and sighed. Perhaps he felt penitent on account of his wickedness; but it is more probable that he felt uneasy in body rather than in mind. "I say, Briant," cried Gurney. "That's me," answered the other. "If you are Jacko's self-appointed uncle, and Miss Ailie is his adopted mother, wot relation is Miss Ailie to you?" "You never does nothin' right, Gurney," interposed Nikel Sling; "you can't even preepound a pruposition. Here's how you oughter to ha' put it. If Phil Briant be Jacko's uncle, and Miss Ailie his adopted mother--all three bein' related in a sorter way by bein' shipmates, an' all on us together bein' closely connected in vartue of our bein' messmates--wot relation is Gurney to a donkey?" "That's a puzzler," said Gurney, affecting to consider the question deeply. "Here's a puzzler wot'll beat it, though," observed Tim Rokens; "suppose we all go on talkin' stuff till doomsday, w'en'll the boat be finished?" "That's true," cried Dick Barnes, resuming work with redoubled energy; "take that young thief to his mother, Phil, and tell her to rope's-end him. I'm right glad to find, though, that he _is_ the thief arter all, and not one o' us." On examination being made, it was found that the broken and empty brandy-bottle lay on the floor of the monkey's nest, and it was conjectured, from the position in which it was discovered, that that dissipated little creature, having broken off the neck in order to get at the brandy, had used the body of the bottle as a pillow whereon to lay its drunken little head. Luckily for its own sake, it had spilt the greater part of the liquid, with which everything in its private residence was saturated and perfumed. On having ocular demonstration of the depravity of her pet, Ailie at first wept, then, on beholding its eccentric movements, she laughed in spite of herself. After that, she wept again, and spoke to it reproachfully, but failed to make the slightest impression on its hardened little heart. Then she put it to bed, and wrapped it up carefully in its sailcloth blanket. With this piece of unmerited kindness Jacko seemed touched, for he said, "Oo-oo--oo-oo--ooee-ee!" once or twice in a peculiarly soft and penitential tone, after which he dropped into a calm, untroubled slumber. CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. THE BOAT FINISHED--FAREWELL TO FAIRYLAND--ONCE MORE AT SEA. At last the boat was finished. It had two masts and two lug-sails, and pulled eight oars. There was just sufficient room in it to enable the men to move about freely, but it required a little management to enable them to stow themselves away when they went to sleep, and had they possessed the proper quantity of provisions for their contemplated voyage, there is no doubt that they would have found themselves considerably cramped. The boat was named the _Maid of the Isle_, in memory of the sandbank on which she had been built, and although in her general outline and details she was rather a clumsy craft, she was serviceable and strongly put together. Had she been decked, or even half-decked, the voyage which now began would not have been so desperate an undertaking; but having been only covered in part with a frail tarpaulin, she was not at all fitted to face the terrible storms that sometimes sweep the southern seas. Each man, as he gazed at her, felt that his chance of ultimate escape was very small indeed. Still, the men had now been so long contemplating the voyage and preparing for it, and they had become so accustomed to risk their lives upon the sea, that they set out upon this voyage at last in cheerful spirits, and even jested about the anticipated dangers and trials which they knew full well awaited them. It was a lovely morning, that on which the wrecked crew of the whaler bade adieu to "Fairyland," as the islet had been named by Ailie--a name that was highly, though laughingly, approved of by the men. The ocean and sky presented that mysterious co-mingling of their gorgeous elements that irresistibly call forth the wonder and admiration of even the most unromantic and matter-of-fact men. It was one of Ailie's peculiarly beloved skies. You could not, without much consideration, have decided as to where was the exact line at which the glassy ocean met the clear sky, and it was almost impossible to tell, when gazing at the horizon, which were the real clouds and which the reflections. The bright blue vault above was laden with clouds of the most gorgeous description, in which all the shades of pearly-grey and yellow were mingled and contrasted. They rose up, pile upon pile, in stupendous majesty, like the very battlements of heaven, while their images, clear and distinct almost as themselves, rolled down and down into the watery depths, until the islet--the only well-defined and solid object in the scene--appeared to float in their midst. The rising sun shot throughout the vast immensity of space, and its warm rays were interrupted, and broken, and caught, and absorbed, and reflected in so many magical ways, that it was impossible to trace any of the outlines for more than a few seconds, ere the eye was lost in the confusion of bright lights and deep shadows that were mingled and mellowed together by the softer lights and shades of every degree of depth and tint into splendid harmony. In the midst of this scene Captain Dunning stood, with Ailie by his side, and surrounded by his men, on the shores of the little island. Everything was now in readiness to set sail. The boat was laden, and in the water, and the men stood ready to leap in and push off. "My lads," said the captain, earnestly, "we're about to quit this morsel of sandbank on which it pleased the Almighty to cast our ship, and on which, thanks be to Him, we have found a pretty safe shelter for so long. I feel a sort o' regret almost at leavin' it now. But the time has come for us to begin our voyage towards the Cape, and I need scarcely repeat what you all know well enough--that our undertakin' is no child's play. We shall need all our bodily and our mental powers to carry us through. Our labour must be constant, and our food is not sufficient, so that we must go on shorter allowance from this day. I gave you half rations while ye were buildin' the boat, because we had to get her finished and launched as fast as we could, but now we can't afford to eat so much. I made a careful inspection of our provisions last night, and I find that by allowing every man four ounces a day, we can spin it out. We may fall in with islands, perhaps, but I know of none in these seas--there are none put down on the charts--and we may get hold of a fish now and then, but we must not count on these chances. Now it must be plain to all of you that our only chance of getting on well together in circumstances that will try our tempers, no doubt, and rouse our selfishness, is to resolve firmly before starting--each man for himself--that we will lay restraint on ourselves and try to help each other as much as we can." There was a ready murmur of assent to this proposal; then the captain continued:-- "Now, lads, one word more. Our best efforts, let us exert ourselves ever so much, cannot be crowned with success unless before setting out, we ask the special favour and blessing of Him who, we are told in the Bible, holds the waters of the ocean in the hollow of His hand. If He helps us, we shall be saved; if He does not help us, we shall perish. We will therefore offer up a prayer now, in the name of our blessed Redeemer, that we may be delivered from every danger, and be brought at last in peace and comfort to our homes." Captain Dunning then clasped his hands together, and while the men around him reverently bowed their heads, he offered up a short and simple, but earnest prayer to God. From that day forward they continued the habit of offering up prayer together once a day, and soon afterwards the captain began the practice of reading a chapter aloud daily out of Ailie's Bible. The result of this was that not only were the more violent spirits among them restrained, under frequent and sore privations and temptations, but all the party were often much comforted and filled with hope at times when they were by their sufferings well-nigh driven to despair. "I'm sorry to leave Fairyland, papa," said Ailie sadly, as the men shoved the _Maid of the Isle_ into deep water and pulled out to sea. "So am I, dear," replied the captain sitting down beside his daughter in the stern-sheets of the boat, and taking the tiller; "I had no idea I could have come to like such a barren bit of sand so well." There was a long pause after this remark. Every eye in the boat was turned with a sad expression on the bright-yellow sandbank as they rowed away, and the men dipped their oars lightly into the calm waters, as if they were loth to leave their late home. Any spot of earth that has been for some time the theatre of heart-stirring events, such as rouse men's strong emotions, and on which happy and hopeful as well as wretched days have been spent, will so entwine itself with the affections of men that they will cling to it and love it, more or less powerfully, no matter how barren may be the spot or how dreary its general aspect. The sandbank had been the cause, no doubt, of the wreck of the _Red Eric_, but it had also been the means, under God, of saving the crew and affording them shelter during many succeeding weeks--weeks of deep anxiety, but also of healthful, hopeful, energetic toil, in which, if there were many things to create annoyance or fear, there had also been not a few things to cause thankfulness, delight, and amusement. Unknown to themselves, these rough sailors and the tender child had become attached to the spot, and it was only now that they were about to leave it for ever that they became aware of the fact. The circumscribed and limited range on which their thoughts and vision had been bent for the last few weeks, had rendered each individual as familiar with every inch of the bank as if he had dwelt there for years. Ailie gazed at the low rocks that overhung the crystal pool in Fairyland, until the blinding tears filled her eyes, and she felt all the deep regret that is experienced by the little child when it is forcibly torn from an old and favourite toy--regret that is not in the least degree mitigated by the fact that the said toy is but a sorry affair, a doll, perchance, with a smashed head, eyes thrust out, and nose flattened on its face or rubbed away altogether--it matters not; the long and happy hours and days spent in the companionship of that battered little mass of wood or wax rush on the infant memory like a dear delightful dream, and it weeps on separation as if its heart would break. Each man in the boat's crew experienced more or less of the same feeling, and commented, according to his nature, either silently or audibly, on each familiar object as he gazed upon it for the last time. "There's the spot where we built the hut when we first landed, Ailie," said Glynn, who pulled the aft oar; "d'ye see it?--just coming into view; look! There it will be shut out again in a moment by the rock beside the coral-pool." "I see it!" exclaimed Ailie eagerly, as she brushed away the tears from her eyes. "There's the rock, too, where we used to make our fire," said the captain, pointing it out. "It doesn't look like itself from this point of view." "Ah!" sighed Phil Briant, "an' it wos at the fut o' that, too, where we used to bile the kittle night an' mornin'. Sure it's many a swait bit and pipe I had beside ye." "Is that a bit o' the wreck?" inquired Tim Rokens, pointing to the low rocky point with the eagerness of a man who had made an unexpected discovery. "No," replied Mr Millons, shading his eyes with his hands, and gazing at the object in question, "it's himpossible. I searched every bit o' the bank for a plank before we came hoff, an' couldn't find a morsel as big as my 'and. W'at say you, doctor?" "I think with you," answered Dr Hopley; "but here's the telescope, which will soon settle the question." While the doctor adjusted the glass, Rokens muttered that "He wos sure it wos a bit o' the wreck," and that "there wos a bit o' rock as nobody couldn't easy git a t'other side of to look, and that that wos it, and the bit of wreck was there," and much to the same effect. "So it is," exclaimed the doctor. "Lay on your oars, lads, a moment," said the captain, taking the glass and applying it to his eye. The men obeyed gladly, for they experienced an unaccountable disinclination to row away from the island. Perhaps the feeling was caused in part by the idea that when they took their last look at it, it might possibly be their _last_ sight of land. "It's a small piece of the foretopmast crosstrees," observed the captain, shutting up the telescope and resuming his seat. "Shall we go back an' pick it up, sir?" asked Dick Barnes gravely, giving vent to the desires of his heart, without perceiving at the moment the absurdity of the question. "Why, what would you do with it, Dick?" replied the captain, smiling. "Sure, ye couldn't ait it!" interposed Briant; "but afther all, there's no sayin'. Maybe Nikel Sling could make a tasty dish out of it stewed in oakum and tar." "It wouldn't be purlite to take such a tit-bit from the mermaids," observed Gurney, as the oars were once more dipped reluctantly, in the water. The men smiled at the jest, for in the monotony of sea life every species of pleasantry, however poor, is swallowed with greater or less avidity; but the smile did not last long. They were in no jesting humour at that time, and no one replied to the passing joke. Soon after this a soft gentle breeze sprang up. It came direct from Fairyland, as if the mermaids referred to by Gurney had been touched by the kindly feelings harboured in the sailors' bosoms towards their islet, and had wafted towards them a last farewell. The oars were shipped immediately and the sails hoisted, and, to the satisfaction of all on board, the _Maid of the Isle_ gave indications of being a swift sailer, for, although the puff of wind was scarcely sufficient to ruffle the glassy surface of the sea, she glided through the water under its influence a good deal faster than she had done with the oars. "That's good!" remarked the captain, watching the ripples as they passed astern; "with fair winds, and not too much of 'em, we shall get on bravely; so cheer up, my lassie," he added, patting Ailie on the head, "and let us begin our voyage in good spirits, and with hopeful, trusting hearts." "Look at Fairyland," said Ailie, clasping her father's hand, and pointing towards the horizon. At the moment she spoke, an opening in the great white clouds let a ray of light fall on the sandbank, which had now passed almost beyond the range of vision. The effect was to illumine its yellow shore and cause it to shine out for a few seconds like a golden speck on the horizon. No one had ceased to gaze at it from the time the boat put forth; but this sudden change caused every one to start up, and fix their eyes on it with renewed interest and intensity. "Shall we ever see land again?" passed, in one form or another, through the minds of all. The clouds swept slowly on the golden point melted away, and the shipwrecked mariners felt that their little boat was now all the world to them in the midst of that mighty world of waters. CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. REDUCED ALLOWANCE OF FOOD--JACKO TEACHES BRIANT A USEFUL LESSON. The first few days of the voyage of the _Maid of the Isle_ were bright and favourable. The wind, though light, was fair, and so steady that the men were only twice obliged to have recourse to their oars. The boat behaved admirably. Once, during these first days, the wind freshened into a pretty stiff breeze, and a somewhat boisterous sea arose, so that she was tested in another of her sailing qualities, and was found to be an excellent sea-boat. Very little water was shipped, and that little was taken in rather through the awkwardness of King Bumble, who steered, than through the fault of the boat. Captain Dunning had taken care that there should be a large supply of tin and wooden scoops, for baling out the water that might be shipped in rough weather, as he foresaw that on the promptness with which this duty was performed, might sometimes depend the safety of the boat and crew. There was one thing that proved a matter of much regret to the crew, and that was the want of a fowling-piece, or firearm of any kind. Had they possessed a gun, however old and bad, with ammunition for it, they would have been certain, at some period of their voyage, to shoot a few sea-birds, with which they expected to fall in on approaching the land, even although many days distant from it. But having nothing of the kind, their hope of adding to their slender stock of provisions was very small indeed. Fortunately, they had one or two fishing-lines, but in the deep water, over which for many days they had to sail, fishing was out of the question. This matter of the provisions was a source of constant anxiety to Captain Dunning. He had calculated the amount of their stores to an ounce, and ascertained that at a certain rate of distribution they would barely serve for the voyage, and this without making any allowance for interruptions or detentions. He knew the exact distance to be passed over, namely, 2322 miles in a straight line, and he had ascertained the sailing and rowing powers of the boat and crew; thus he was enabled to arrive at a pretty correct idea of the probable duration of the voyage, supposing that all should go well. But in the event of strong contrary winds arising, no fresh supplies of fish or fowl being obtained, or sickness breaking out among the men, he knew either that they must starve altogether, or that he must at once, before it was too late, still farther reduce the scanty allowance of food and drink to each man. The captain sat at the helm one fine evening, about a week after their departure from Fairyland, brooding deeply over this subject. The boat was running before a light breeze, at the rate of about four or five knots, and the men, who had been obliged to row a good part of that day, were sitting or reclining on the thwarts, or leaning over the gunwale, watching the ripples as they glided by, and enjoying the rest from labour; for now that they had been for some time on reduced allowance of food, they felt less able for work than they used to be, and often began to look forward with intense longing to seasons of repose. Ailie was sitting near the entrance of her little sleeping apartment--which the men denominated a kennel--and master Jacko was seated on the top of it, scratching his sides and enjoying the sunshine. "My lads," said the captain, breaking a silence which had lasted a considerable time, "I'm afraid I shall have to reduce our allowance still farther." This remark was received by Gurney and Phil Briant with a suppressed groan--by the other men in silence. "You see," continued the captain, "it won't do to count upon chances, which may or may not turn out to be poor. We can, by fixing our allowance per man at a lower rate, make quite certain of our food lasting us until we reach the Cape, even if we should experience a little detention; but if we go on at the present rate, we are equally certain that it will fail us just at the last." "We're sartain to fall in with birds before we near the land," murmured Gurney, with a rueful expression of countenance. "We are certain of nothing," replied the captain; "but even suppose we were, how are we to get hold of them?" "That's true," observed Briant, who solaced himself with his pipe in the absence of a sufficiency of food. "Sea-birds, no more nor land-birds, ain't given to pluckin' and roastin' themselves, and flyin' down people's throats ready cooked." "Besides," resumed the captain, "the plan I propose, although it will entail a little more present self-denial, will, humanly speaking, ensure our getting through the voyage with life in us even at the worst, and if we _are_ so lucky as to catch fish or procure birds in any way, why we shall fare sumptuously." Here Tim Rokens, to whom the men instinctively looked, upon all matters of perplexity, removed his pipe from his lips, and said-- "Wot Cap'en Dunnin' says is true. If we take his plan, why, we'll starve in a reg'lar way, little by little, and p'raps spin out till we git to the Cape; w'ereas, if we take the other plan, we'll keep a little fatter on the first part of the voyage, mayhap, but we'll arrive at the end of it as dead as mutton, every man on us." This view of the question seemed so just to the men, and so full of incontrovertible wisdom, that it was received with something like a murmur of applause. "You're a true philosopher, Rokens. Now Doctor Hopley, I must beg you to give us your opinion, as a medical man, on this knotty subject," said the captain, smiling. "Do you think that we can continue to exist if our daily allowance is reduced one-fourth?" The doctor replied, "Let me see," and putting his finger on his forehead, frowned portentously, affecting to give the subject the most intense consideration. He happened to look at Jacko when he frowned, and that pugnacious individual, happening at the same instant to look at the doctor, and supposing that the frown was a distinct challenge to fight, first raised his eyebrows to the top of his head in amazement, then pulled them down over his flashing orbs in deep indignation, and displayed all his teeth, as well as an extent of gums that was really frightful to behold! "Oh! Jacko, bad thing," said Ailie, in a reproachful tone, pulling the monkey towards her. Taking no notice of these warlike indications, the doctor, after a few minutes' thought, looked up and said-- "I have no doubt whatever that we can stand it. Most of us are in pretty good condition still, and have some fat to spare. Fat persons can endure reduced allowance of food much better and longer than those who are lean. There's Gurney, now, for instance, he could afford to have his share even still further curtailed." This remark was received with a grin of delighted approval by the men and with a groan by Gurney, who rubbed his stomach gently, as if that region were assailed with pains at the bare thought of such injustice. "Troth, if that's true what ye say, doctor, I hope ye'll see it to be yer duty to give wot ye cut off Gurney's share to me," remarked Briant, "for its nothing but a bag o' bones that I am this minute." "Oh! oh! wot a wopper," cried Jim Scroggles, whose lean and lanky person seemed ill adapted to exist upon light fare. "Well," observed the captain, "the doctor and I shall make a careful calculation and let you know the result by supper-time, when the new system shall be commenced. What think you, Ailie, my pet, will you be able to stand it?" "Oh yes, papa, I don't care how much you reduce my allowance." "What! don't you feel hungry?" "No, not a bit." "Not ready for supper?" "Not anxious for it, at any rate." "Och! I wish I wos you," murmured Briant, with a deep sigh. "I think I could ait the foresail, av it wos only well biled with the laste possible taste o' pig's fat." By supper-time the captain announced the future daily allowance, and served it out. Each man received a piece of salt junk--that is, salt beef--weighing exactly one ounce; also two ounces of broken biscuit; a small piece of tobacco, and a quarter of a pint of water. Although the supply of the latter was small, there was every probability of a fresh supply being obtained when it chanced to rain, so that little anxiety was felt at first in regard to it; but the other portions of each man's allowance were weighed with scrupulous exactness, in a pair of scales which were constructed by Tim Rokens out of a piece of wood--a leaden musket-ball doing service as a weight. Ailie received an equal portion with the others, but Jacko was doomed to drag out his existence on a very minute quantity of biscuit and water. He utterly refused to eat salt junk, and would not have been permitted to use tobacco even had he been so inclined, which he was not. Although they were thus reduced to a small allowance of food--a smaller quantity than was sufficient to sustain life for any lengthened period-- no one in the slightest degree grudged Jacko his small portion. All the men entertained a friendly feeling to the little monkey, partly because it was Ailie's pet, and partly because it afforded them great amusement at times by its odd antics. As for Jacko himself, he seemed to thrive on short allowance, and never exhibited any unseemly haste or anxiety at meal-times. It was observed, however, that he kept an uncommonly sharp eye on all that passed around him, as if he felt that his circumstances were at that time peculiar and worthy of being noted. In particular he knew to a nicety what happened to each atom of food, from the time of its distribution among the men to the moment of its disappearance within their hungry jaws, and if any poor fellow chanced to lay his morsel down and neglect it for the tenth part of an instant, it vanished like a shot, and immediately thereafter Jacko was observed to present an unusually serene and innocent aspect, and to become suddenly afflicted, with a swelling in the pouch under his cheek. One day the men received a lesson in carefulness which they did not soon forget. Breakfast had been served out, and Phil Briant was about to finish his last mouthful of biscuit--he had not had many mouthfuls to try his masticating powers, poor fellow--when he paused suddenly, and gazing at the cherished morsel addressed it thus-- "Shure, it's a purty bit, ye are! Av there wos only wan or two more o' yer family here, it's meself as 'ud like to be made beknown to them. I'll not ait ye yit. I'll look at ye for a little." In pursuance of this luxurious plan, Briant laid the morsel of biscuit on the thwart of the boat before him, and, taking out his pipe, began to fill it leisurely, keeping his eye all the time on the last bite. Just then Mr Markham, who pulled the bow oar, called out-- "I say, Briant, hand me my tobacco-pouch, it's beside you on the th'ort, close under the gun'le." "Is it?" said Briant, stretching out his hand to the place indicated, but keeping his eye fixed all the time on the piece of biscuit. "Ah, here it is; ketch it." For one instant Briant looked at the second mate in order to throw the pouch with precision. That instant was sufficient for the exercise of Jacko's dishonest propensities. The pouch was yet in its passage through the air when a tremendous roar from Tim Rokens apprised the unhappy Irishman of his misfortune. He did not require to be told to "look out!" although more than one voice gave him that piece of advice. An intuitive perception of irreparable loss flashed across his soul, and, with the speed of light, his eye was again on the thwart before him--but not on the morsel of biscuit. At that same instant Jacko sat down beside Ailie with his usual serene aspect and swelled cheek! "Och, ye bottle imp!" yelled the bereaved one, "don't I know ye?" and seizing a tin pannikin, in his wrath, he threw it at the small monkey's head with a force that would, had it been well directed, have smashed that small head effectually. Jacko made a quick and graceful nod, and the pannikin, just missing Ailie, went over the side into the sea, where it sank and was lost for ever, to the regret of all, for they could ill afford to lose it. "Ye've got it, ye have, but ye shan't ait it," growled Briant through his teeth, as he sprang over the seat towards the monkey. Jacko bounded like a piece of indiarubber on to Gurney's head; next moment he was clinging to the edge of the mainsail, and the next he was comfortably seated on the top of the mast, where he proceeded calmly and leisurely to "ait" the biscuit in the face of its exasperated and rightful owner. "Oh,--Briant!" exclaimed Ailie, who was half frightened, half amused at the sudden convulsion caused by her favourite's bad conduct, "don't be vexed; see, here is a little bit of my biscuit; I don't want it--really I don't." Briant, who stood aghast and overwhelmed by his loss and by the consummate impudence of the small monkey, felt rebuked by this offer. Bursting into a loud laugh, he said, as he resumed his seat and the filling of his pipe-- "Sure I'd rather ait me own hat, Miss Ailie, an' it's be no means a good wan--without sarce, too, not even a blot o' mustard--than take the morsel out o' yer purty mouth. I wos more nor half jokin', dear, an' I ax yer parding for puttin' ye in sich a fright." "Expensive jokin'," growled Tarquin, "if ye throw a pannikin overboard every time you take to it." "Kape your tongue quiet," said Briant, reddening, for he felt somewhat humbled at having given way to his anger so easily, and was nettled at the remark, coming as it did, in a sneering spirit, from a man for whom he had no particular liking. "Never mind, Briant," interposed the captain quickly, with a good-humoured laugh; "I feel for you, lad. Had it been myself I fear I should have been even more exasperated. I would not sell a crumb of my portion just now for a guinea." "Neither would I," added the doctor, "for a thousand guineas." "I'll tell ye wot it is, lads," remarked Tim Rokens; "I wish I only had a crumb to sell." "Now, Rokens, don't be greedy," cried Gurney. "Greedy!" echoed Tim. "Ay, greedy; has any o' you lads got a dickshunairy to lend him? Come, Jim Scroggles, you can tell him what it means--you've been to school, I believe, hain't you?" Rokens shook his head gravely. "No, lad, I'm not greedy, but I'm ready for wittles. I won't go fur to deny that. Now, let me ax ye a question. Wot--supposin' ye had the chance--would ye give, at this good min'it, for a biled leg o' mutton?" "With or without capers-sauce?" inquired Gurney. "W'ichever _you_ please." "Och! we wouldn't need capers-sarse," interposed Briant; "av we only had the mutton, I'd cut enough o' capers meself to do for the sarce, I would." "It matters little what you'd give," cried Glynn, "for we can't get it at any price just now. Don't you think, captain, that we might have our breakfast to-night? It would save time in the morning, you know." There was a general laugh at this proposal, yet there was a strong feeling in the minds of some that if it were consistent with their rules to have breakfast served out then and there, they would gladly have consented to go without it next morning. Thus, with laugh and jest, and good-natured repartee, did these men bear the pangs of hunger for many days. They were often silent during long intervals, and sometimes they became talkative and sprightly, but it was observed that, whether they conversed earnestly or jestingly, their converse ran, for the most part, on eating and drinking, and in their uneasy slumbers, during the intervals between the hours of work and watching, they almost invariably dreamed of food. CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. PROGRESS OF THE LONG VOYAGE--STORY-TELLING AND JOURNALISING. Many weeks passed away, but the _Maid of the Isle_ still held on her course over the boundless ocean. Day after day came and went, the sun rose in the east morning after morning, ran its appointed course, and sank, night after night, on the western horizon, but little else occurred to vary the monotony of that long, long voyage. When the sun rose, its bright rays leapt from the bosom of the ocean; when it set, the same bosom of the great deep received its descending beams. No land, no sail appeared to the anxious gazers in that little boat, which seemed to move across, yet never to reach the boundaries of that mighty circle of water and sky, in the midst of which they lay enchained, as if by some wicked enchanter's spell. Breezes blew steadily at times and urged them swiftly on towards the circumference, but it fled as fast as they approached. Then it fell calm, and the weary men resumed their oars, and with heavy hearts and weakened arms tugged at the boat which seemed to have turned into a mass of lead. At such times a dead silence was maintained, for the work, which once would have been to them but child's play, had now become severe and heavy labour. Still they did not murmur. Even the cross-grained Tarquin became subdued in spirit by the influence of the calm endurance and good-humour of his comrades. But the calms seldom lasted long. The winds, which happily continued favourable, again ruffled the surface of the sea, and sometimes blew so briskly as to oblige them to take in a reef or two in their sails. The oars were gladly drawn in, and the spirits of the men rose as the little boat bent over to the blast, lost her leaden qualities, and danced upon the broad-backed billows, like a cork. There was no rain during all this time; little or no stormy weather; and, but for their constant exposure to the hot sun by day and the cold chills by night, the time might have been said to pass even pleasantly, despite the want of a sufficiency of food. Thus day after day and night after night flew by, and week after week came and went, and still the _Maid of the Isle_ held on her course over the boundless ocean. During all that time the one and a quarter ounces of salt junk and biscuit and the eighth of a pint of water were weighed and measured out to each man, three times a day, with scrupulous care and exactness, lest a drop or a crumb of the food that was more precious than diamonds should be lost. The men had all become accustomed to short allowance now, and experienced no greater inconvenience than a feeling of lassitude, which feeling increased daily, but by such imperceptible degrees that they were scarcely conscious of it, and were only occasionally made aware of the great reduction of their strength when they attempted to lift any article which, in the days of their full vigour, they could have tossed into the air, but which they could scarcely move now. When, however, the fair breeze enabled them to glide along under sail, and they lay enjoying complete rest, they experienced no unwonted sensations of weakness; their spirits rose, as the spirits of sailors always will rise when the waves are rippling at the bow and a white track forming in the wake; and they spent the time--when not asleep--in cheerful conversation and in the spinning of long yarns. They did not sing, however, as might have been expected--they were too weak for that--they called the feeling "lazy," some said they "couldn't be bothered" to sing. No one seemed willing to admit that his strength was in reality abated. In story-telling the captain, the doctor, and Glynn shone conspicuous. And when all was going smoothly and well, the anecdotes, histories, and romances related by these three were listened to with such intense interest and delight by the whole crew, that one would have thought they were enjoying a pleasure trip, and had no cause whatever for anxiety. Gurney, too, and Briant, and Nikel Sling came out frequently in the story-telling line, and were the means of causing many and many an hour to pass quickly and pleasantly by, which would otherwise have hung heavily on the hands of all. Ailie Dunning was an engrossed and delighted listener at all times. She drank in every species of story with an avidity that was quite amusing. It seemed also to have been infectious, for even Jacko used to sit hour after hour looking steadily at each successive speaker, with a countenance so full of bright intelligence, and grave surpassing wisdom, as to lead one to the belief that he not only understood all that was said, but turned it over in his mind, and drew from it ideas and conclusions far more bright and philosophical than could have been drawn therefrom by any human being, however wise or ingenious. He grinned, too, did Jacko, with an intensity and frequency that induced the sailors at first to call him a clever dog, in the belief that his perception of the ludicrous was very strong indeed; but as his grins were observed to occur quite as frequently at the pathetic and the grave as at the comical parts of the stories, they changed their minds, and said he was a "codger"--in which remark they were undoubtedly safe, seeing that it committed them to nothing very specific. Captain Dunning's stories were, more properly speaking, histories, and were very much relished, for he possessed a natural power of relating what he knew in an interesting manner and with a peculiarly pleasant tone of voice. Every one who has considered the subject at all must have observed what a powerful influence there lies in the mere manner and tone of a speaker. The captain's voice was so rich, so mellow, and capable of such varied modulation, that the men listened with pleasure to the words which rolled from his lips, as one would listen to a sweet song. He became so deeply interested, too, in the subject about which he happened to be speaking, that his auditors could not help becoming interested also. He had no powers of eloquence, neither was he gifted with an unusually bright fancy. But he was fluent in speech, and his words, though not chosen, were usually appropriate. The captain had no powers of invention whatever. He used to say, when asked to tell a story, that he "might as well try to play the fiddle with a handspike." But this was no misfortune, for he had read much, and his memory was good, and supplied him with an endless flow of small-talk on almost every subject that usually falls under the observation of sea-captains, and on many subjects besides, about which most sea-captains, or land-captains, or any other captains whatsoever, are almost totally ignorant. Captain Dunning could tell of adventures in the whale-fishery, gone through either by himself or by friends, that would have made your two eyes stare out of their two sockets until they looked like saucers (to use a common but not very correct simile). He could tell the exact latitude and longitude of almost every important and prominent part of the globe, and give the distance, pretty nearly, of any one place (on a large scale) from any other place. He could give the heights of all the chief mountains in the world to within a few feet, and could calculate, by merely looking at its current and depth, how many cubic feet of water any river delivered to the sea per minute. Length, breadth, and thickness, height, depth, and density, were subjects in which he revelled, and with which he played as a juggler does with golden balls; and so great were his powers of numerical calculation, that the sailors often declared they believed he could work out any calculation backwards without the use of logarithms! He was constantly instituting comparisons that were by no means what the proverb terms "odious," but which were often very astonishing, and in all his stories so many curious and peculiar facts were introduced, that, as we have already said, they were very much relished indeed. Not less relished, however, were Glynn Proctor's astounding and purely imaginative tales. After the men's minds had been chained intently on one of the captain's semi-philosophical anecdotes, they turned with infinite zest to one of Glynn's outrageous flights. Glynn had not read much in his short life, and his memory was nothing to boast of, but his imagination was quite gigantic. He could invent almost anything; and the curious part of it was, that he could do it out of nothing, if need be. He never took time to consider what he should say. When called on for a story he began at once, and it flowed from him like a flood of sparkling water from a fountain in fairy realms. Up in the clouds; high in the blue ether; down in the coral caves; deep in the ocean waves; out on the mountain heaths; far in the rocky glens, or away in the wild woods green--it was all one to Glynn; he leaped away in an instant, with a long train of adventurers at his heels--male and female, little and big, old and young, pretty and plain, grave and gay. And didn't they go through adventures that would have made the hair of mortals not only stand on end, but fly out by the roots altogether? Didn't he make them talk, as mortals never talked before; and sing as mortals never dreamed of? And, oh! didn't he just make them stew, and roast, and boil joints of savoury meat, and bake pies, and tarts, and puddings, such as Soyer in his wildest culinary dreams never imagined, and such as caused the mouths of the crew of the _Maid of the Isle_ to water, until they were constrained, poor fellows, to tell him to "clap a stopper upon that," and hold his tongue, for they "couldn't stand it!" Phil Briant and Gurney dealt in the purely comic line. They remarked-- generally in an undertone--that they left poetry and prose to Glynn and the captain; and it was as well they did, for their talents certainly did not lie in either of these directions. They came out strong after meals, when the weather was fine, and formed a species of light and agreeable interlude to the more weighty efforts of the captain and the brilliant sallies of Glynn. Gurney dealt in _experiences_ chiefly, and usually endeavoured by asseveration and iteration to impress his hearers with the truth of facts said to have been experienced by himself, which, if true, would certainly have consigned him to a premature grave long ago. Briant, on the other hand, dealt largely in ghost stories, which he did not vouch for the truth of, but permitted his hearers to judge of for themselves-- a permission which they would doubtless have taken for themselves at any rate. But tales and stories occupied, after all, only a small portion of the men's time during that long voyage. Often, very often, they were too much exhausted to talk or even to listen, and when not obliged to labour at the oars they tried to sleep; but "Nature's sweet restorer" did not always come at the first invitation, as was his wont in other days, and too frequently they were obliged to resume work unrefreshed. Their hands became hard and horny in the palms at last, like a man's heel, and their backs and arms ached from constant work. Ailie kept in good health, but she, too, began to grow weak from want of proper nourishment. She slept better than the men, for the comfortable sleeping-box that Glynn had constructed for her sheltered her from the heat, wet, and cold, to which the former were constantly exposed. She amused herself, when not listening to stories or asleep, by playing with her favourite, and she spent a good deal of time in reading her Bible-- sometimes to herself, at other times, in a low tone, to her father as he sat at the helm. And many a time did she see a meaning in passages which, in happier times, had passed meaningless before her eyes, and often did she find sweet comfort in words that she had read with comparative indifference in former days. It is in the time of trial, trouble, and sorrow that the Bible proves to be a friend indeed. Happy the Christian who, when dark clouds overwhelm his soul, has a memory well stored with the comforting passages of the Word of God. But Ailie had another occupation which filled up much of her leisure, and proved to be a source of deep and engrossing interest at the time. This was the keeping of a journal of the voyage. On the last trip made to the wreck of the _Red Eric_, just before the great storm that completed the destruction of that ship, the captain had brought away in his pocket a couple of note-books. One of these he kept to himself to jot down the chief incidents of the intended voyage; the other he gave to Ailie, along with a blacklead pencil. Being fond of trying to write, she amused herself for hours together in jotting down her thoughts about the various incidents of the voyage, great and small; and being a very good drawer for her age, she executed many fanciful and elaborate sketches, among which were innumerable portraits of Jacko and several caricatures of the men. This journal, as it advanced, became a source of much interest and amusement to every one in the boat; and when, in an hour of the utmost peril, it, along with many other things, was lost, the men, after the danger was past, felt the loss severely. Thus they spent their time--now pleasantly, now sadly--sometimes becoming cheerful and hopeful, at other times sinking almost into a state of despair as their little stock of food and water dwindled down, while the _Maid of the Isle_ still held on her apparently endless course over the great wide sea. CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. THE CALM AND THE STORM--A SERIOUS LOSS AND GREAT GAIN--BIRD-CATCHING EXTRAORDINARY--SAVED AT LAST. One day a deep death-like calm settled down upon the ocean. For some days before, the winds had been light and uncertain, and the air had been excessively warm. The captain cast uneasy glances around him from time to time, and looked with a sadder countenance than usual on the haggard faces of the men as they laboured slowly and silently at the oars. "I don't know what this will turn to, doctor," he said, in a low tone; "I don't like the look of it." The doctor, who was perusing Ailie's journal at the moment, looked up and shook his head. "It seems to me, captain, that whatever happens, matters cannot be made much worse." "You are wrong, doctor," replied the captain quietly; "we have still much to be thankful for." "Did you not tell me a few minutes ago that the water was almost done?" The doctor said this in a whisper, for the men had not yet been made aware of the fact. "Yes, I did; but it is not _quite_ done; that is matter for thankfulness." "Oh, according to that principle," observed the doctor, somewhat testily, "you may say we have cause to be thankful for _everything_, bad as well as good." "So we have! so we have! If everything good were taken from us, and nothing left us but our lives, we would have reason to be thankful for that--thankful that we were still above ground, still in the land of hope, with salvation to our immortal souls through Jesus Christ freely offered for our acceptance." The doctor made no reply. He thought the captain a little weak in the matter of religion. If religion is false, his opinion of the captain no doubt, was right, but if true, surely the weakness lay all the other way. That morning the captain's voice in prayer was more earnest, if possible, than usual, and he put up a special petition for _water_, which was observed by the men with feelings of great anxiety, and responded to with a deep amen. After morning worship the scales were brought, and the captain proceeded to weigh out the scanty meal, while the men watched his every motion with an almost wolfish glare, that told eloquently of the prolonged sufferings they had endured. Even poor Ailie's gentle face now wore a sharp, anxious expression when food was being served out, and she accepted her small portion with a nervous haste that was deeply painful and touching to witness. She little knew, poor child, that that portion of bread and meat and water, small though it was, was larger than that issued to the men, being increased by a small quantity deducted from the captain's own allowance and an equal amount from that of Glynn. The latter had noticed the captain's habit of regularly calling off the child's attention during the distribution of each meal, for the purpose of thus increasing her portion at the expense of his own, and in a whispering conversation held soon after he insisted that a little of his allowance should also be transferred to her. At first the captain firmly refused, but Glynn said that if he did not accede to his wish he would hand over the whole of his portion in future to the monkey, let the result be what it might! As Glynn never threatened without a full and firm resolve to carry out his threats, the captain was compelled to give in. When the water came to be served out that morning the captain paused, and looking round at the anxious eyes that were riveted upon him, said-- "My lads, it has pleased the Almighty to lay His hand still heavier on us. May He who has said that He will not suffer men to be tempted above what they are able to bear, give us strength to stand it. Our water is almost done. We must be content with a quarter of our usual allowance." This information was received in deep silence--perhaps it was the silence of despair, for the quantity hitherto served out had been barely sufficient to moisten their parched throats, and they _knew_ that they could not exist long on the reduced allowance. Jacko came with the rest as usual for his share, and held out his little hand for the tin cup in which his few drops of water were wont to be handed to him. The captain hesitated and looked at the men; then he poured out a few drops of the precious liquid. For the first time a murmur of disapproval was heard. "It's only a brute beast; the monkey must die before _us_," said a voice which was so hollow and changed that it could scarcely be recognised as that of Tarquin, the steward. No one else said a word. The captain did not even look up to see who had spoken. He felt the justice as well as the harshness of the remark, and poured the water back into the jar. Jacko seems puzzled at first, and held out his hand again; then he looked round on the men with that expression of unutterable woe which is peculiar to some species of the monkey tribe. He seemed to feel that something serious was about to happen to him. Looking up in the sad face of his young mistress, he uttered a very gentle and plaintive "oo-oo-ee!" Ailie burst into a passionate flood of tears, and in the impulse of the moment handed her own cup, which she had not tasted, to Jacko, who drained it in a twinkling--before the captain could snatch it from his hands. Having emptied it, Jacko went forward as he had been taught to do, and handed back the cup with quite a pleased expression of countenance--for he was easily satisfied, poor thing! "You should not have done that, my darling," said the captain, as he gave Ailie another portion. "Dear papa, I couldn't help it," sobbed the child; "indeed I couldn't-- and you need not give me any. I can do without it to-day." "Can you? But you shan't," exclaimed Glynn, with a degree of energy that would have made every one laugh in happier times. "No, no, my own pet," replied the captain. "You shan't want it. Here, you _must_ drink it, come." From that day Jacko received his allowance regularly as long as a drop of water was left, and no one again murmured against it. When it was finished he had to suffer with the rest. The calm which had set in proved to be of longer duration than usual, and the sufferings of the crew of the little boat became extreme. On the third day after its commencement the last drop of water was served out. It amounted to a couple of teaspoonfuls per man each meal, of which there were three a day. During the continuance of the calm, the sun shone in an almost cloudless sky and beat down upon the heads of the men until it drove them nearly mad. They all looked like living skeletons, and their eyes glared from their sunken sockets with a dry fiery lustre that was absolutely terrible to behold. Had each one in that boat possessed millions of gold he would have given all, gladly, for one drop of fresh water; but, alas! nothing could purchase water there. Ailie thought upon the man who, in the Bible, is described as looking up to heaven from the depths of hell and crying for one drop of water to cool his tongue, and she fancied that she could now realise his agony. The captain looked up into the hot sky, but no blessed cloud appeared there to raise the shadow of a hope. He looked down at the sea, and it seemed to mock him with its clear blue depths, which looked so sweet and pleasant. He realised the full significance of that couplet in Coleridge's _Ancient Mariner_-- "Water, water, everywhere, But not a drop to drink." and, drawing Ailie to his breast, he laid his cheek upon hers and groaned aloud. "We shall soon be taken away, dear papa!" she said--and she tried to weep, but the tears that came unbidden and so easily at other times to her bright blue eyes refused to flow now. The men had one by one ceased to ply their useless oars, and the captain did not take notice of it, for he felt that unless God sent relief in some almost miraculous way, their continuing to row would be of no avail. It would only increase their agony without advancing them more than a few miles on the long, long voyage that he knew still lay before them. "O God, grant us a breeze!" cried Mr Millons, in a deep, tremulous tone breaking a silence that had continued for some hours. "Messmates," said Tim Rokens, who for some time had leaned with both elbows on his oar and his face buried in his hands, "wot d'ye say to a bath? I do believe it 'ud do us good." "P'haps it would," replied King Bumble; but he did not move, and the other men made no reply, while Rokens again sank forward. Gurney and Tarquin had tried to relieve their thirst the day before by drinking sea-water, but their inflamed and swollen throats and lips now showed that the relief sought had not been obtained. "It's time for supper," said the captain, raising his head suddenly, and laying Ailie down, for she had fallen into a lethargic slumber; "fetch me the bread and meat can." Dick Barnes obeyed reluctantly, and the usual small allowance of salt junk was weighed out, but there were no eager glances now. Most of the crew refused to touch food--one or two tried to eat a morsel of biscuit without success. "I'll try a swim," cried Glynn, suddenly starting up with the intention of leaping overboard. But his strength was more exhausted than he had fancied, for he only fell against the side of the boat. It was as well that he failed. Had he succeeded in getting into the water he could not have clambered in again, and it is doubtful whether his comrades had sufficient strength left to have dragged him in. "Try it this way, lad," said Tim Rokens, taking up a bucket, and dipping it over the side. "P'raps it'll do as well." He raised the bucket with some difficulty and poured its contents over Glynn's head. "Thank God!" said Glynn, with a deep, long-drawn sigh. "Do it again, Tim, do it again. That's it,--again, again! No, stop; forgive my selfishness; here, give me the bucket, I'll do it to you now." Tim Rokens was quickly drenched from head to foot, and felt great and instantaneous relief. In a few minutes every one in the boat, Jacko included, was subjected to this species of cold bath, and their spirits rose at once. Some of them even began to eat their food, and Briant actually attempted to perpetrate a joke, which Gurney seconded promptly, but they failed to make one, even a bad one, between them. Although the cold bathing seemed good for them at first, it soon proved to be hurtful. Sitting and lying constantly night and day in saturated clothes had the effect of rendering their skins painfully sensitive, and a feverish feeling was often alternated with cold shivering fits, so they were fain to give it up. Still they had found some slight relief, and they bore their sufferings with calm resignation--a state of mind which was fostered, if not induced, by the blessed words of comfort and hope which the captain read to them from the Bible as frequently as his strength would permit, and to which they listened with intense, all-absorbing interest. It is ever thus with men. When death approaches, in almost all instances, we are ready--ay, anxious--to listen with the deepest interest to God's message of salvation through His Son, and to welcome and long for the influences of the Holy Spirit. Oh! how happy should we be in life and in death, did we only give heartfelt interest to our souls' affairs _before_ the days of sorrow and death arrive. On the fifth morning after the water had been exhausted the sun arose in the midst of dark clouds. The men could scarcely believe their eyes. They shouted and, in their weakness, laughed for joy. The blessing was not long delayed. Thick vapours veiled the red sun soon after it emerged from the sea, then a few drops of rain fell. Blessed drops! How the men caught at them! How they spread out oiled cloths and tarpaulins and garments to gather them! How they grudged to see them falling around the boat into the sea, and being lost to them for ever. But the blessing was soon sent liberally. The heavens above grew black, and the rain came down in thick heavy showers. The tarpaulins were quickly filled, and the men lay with their lips to the sweet pools, drinking-in new life, and dipping their heads and hands in the cool liquid when they could drink no more. Their thirst was slaked at last, and they were happy. All their past sufferings were forgotten in that great hour of relief, and they looked, and laughed, and spoke to each other like men who were saved from death. As they stripped off their garments and washed the encrusted salt from their shrunken limbs, all of them doubtless felt, and some of them audibly expressed, gratitude to the "Giver of every good and perfect gift." So glad were they, and so absorbed in their occupation, that they thought not of and cared not for the fact that a great storm was about to break upon them. It came upon them almost before they were aware, and before the sails could be taken in the boat was almost upset. "Stand-by to lower the sails!" shouted the captain, who was the first to see their danger. The old familiar command issued with something of the old familiar voice and energy caused every one to leap to his post, if not with the agility of former times, at least with all the good will. "Let go!" The halyards were loosed, and the sails came tumbling down; at the same moment the squall burst on them. The _Maid of the Isle_ bent over so quickly that every one expected she would upset; the blue water curled in over the edge of the gunwale, and the foam burst from her bows at the rude shock. Then she hissed through the water as she answered the helm, righted quickly, and went tearing away before the wind at a speed that she had not known for many days. It was a narrow escape. The boat was nearly filled with water, and, worst of all, the provision can, along with Ailie's sleeping-box, were washed overboard and lost. It was of no use attempting to recover them. All the energies of the crew were required to bale out the water and keep the boat afloat, and during the whole storm some of them were constantly employed in baling. For three days it blew a perfect hurricane, and during all that time the men had nothing whatever to eat; but they did not suffer so much as might be supposed. The gnawing pangs of hunger do not usually last beyond a few days when men are starving. After that they merely feel ever-increasing weakness. During the fall of the rain they had taken care to fill their jars, so that they had now a good supply of water. After the first burst of the squall had passed, the tarpaulins were spread over the boat, and under one of these, near the stern, Ailie was placed, and was comparatively sheltered and comfortable. Besides forming a shelter for the men while they slept, these tarpaulins threw off the waves that frequently broke over the boat, and more than once bid fair to sink her altogether. These arose in enormous billows, and the gale was so violent that only the smallest corner of the foresail could be raised--even that was almost sufficient to tear away the mast. At length the gale blew itself out, and gradually decreased to a moderate breeze, before which the sails were shaken out, and on the fourth morning after it broke they found themselves sweeping quickly over the waves on their homeward way, but without a morsel of food, and thoroughly exhausted in body and in mind. On that morning, however, they passed a piece of floating seaweed, a sure indication of their approach to land. Captain Dunning pointed it out to Ailie and the crew with a cheering remark that they would probably soon get to the end of their voyage; but he did not feel much hope; for, without food, they could not exist above a few days more at the furthest--perhaps not so long. That same evening, several small sea-birds came towards the boat, and flew inquiringly round it, as if they wondered what it could be doing there, so far away from the haunts of men. These birds were evidently unaccustomed to man, for they exhibited little fear. They came so near to the boat that one of them was at length caught. It was the negro who succeeded in knocking it on the head with a boat-hook as it flew past. Great was the praise bestowed on King Bumble for this meritorious deed, and loud were the praises bestowed on the bird itself, which was carefully divided into equal portions (and a small portion for Jacko), and eaten raw. Not a morsel of it was lost--claws, beak, blood, bones, and feathers--all were eaten up. In order to prevent dispute or jealousy, the captain made Ailie turn her back on the bird when thus divided, and pointing to the different portions, he said-- "Who shall have this?" Whoever was named by Ailie had to be content with what thus fell to his share. "Ah, but ye wos always an onlucky dog!" exclaimed Briant, to whom fell the head and claws. "Ye've no reason to grumble," replied Gurney; "ye've got all the brains to yerself, and no one needs them more." The catching of this bird was the saving of the crew, and it afforded them a good deal of mirth in the dividing of it. The heart and a small part of the breast fell to Ailie--which every one remarked was singularly appropriate; part of a leg and the tail fell to King Bumble; and the lungs and stomach became the property of Jim Scroggles, whereupon Briant remarked that he would "think as much almost o' _that_ stomach as he had iver done of his own!" But there was much of sadness mingled with their mirth, for they felt that the repast was a peculiarly light one, and they had scarcely strength left to laugh or jest. Next morning they knocked down another bird, and in the evening they got two more. The day after that they captured an albatross, which furnished them at last with an ample supply of fresh food. It was Mr Markham, the second mate, who first saw the great bird looming in the distance, as it sailed over the sea towards them. "Let's try to fish for him," said the doctor. "I've heard of sea-birds being caught in that way before now." "Fish for it!" exclaimed Ailie in surprise. "Ay, with hook and line, Ailie." "I've seen it done often," said the captain. "Hand me the line, Bumble, and a bit o' that bird we got yesterday. Now for it." By the time the hook was baited, the albatross had approached near to the boat, and hovered around it with that curiosity which seems to be a characteristic feature of all sea-birds. It was an enormous creature; but Ailie, when she saw it in the air, could not have believed it possible that it was so large as it was afterwards found to be on being measured. "Here, Glynn, catch hold of the line," said the captain, as he threw the hook overboard, and allowed it to trail astern; "you are the strongest man amongst us now, I think; starvation don't seem to tell so much on your young flesh and bones as on ours!" "No; it seems to agree with his constitution," remarked Gurney. "It's me that wouldn't give much for his flesh," observed Briant; "but his skin and bones would fetch a good price in the leather and rag market." While his messmates were thus freely remarking on his personal appearance--which, to say truth, was dreadfully haggard--Glynn was holding the end of the line, and watching the motions of the albatross with intense interest. "He won't take it," observed the captain. "Me tink him will," said Bumble. "No go," remarked Nikel Sling sadly. "That was near," said the first mate eagerly, as the bird made a bold swoop down towards the bait, which was skipping over the surface of the water. "No, he's off," cried Mr Markham in despair. "Cotched! or I'm a Dutchman!" shouted. Gurney. "No!" cried Jim Scroggles. "Yes!" screamed Ailie. "Hurrah!" shouted Tim Rokens and Tarquin in a breath. Dick Barnes, and the doctor, and the captain, and, in short, everybody, echoed the last sentiment, and repeated it again and again with delight as they saw the gigantic bird once again swoop down upon the bait and seize it. Glynn gave a jerk, the hook caught in its tongue, and the albatross began to tug, and swoop, and whirl madly in its effort to escape. Now, to talk of any ordinary bird swooping, and fluttering, and tugging, does not sound very tremendous; but, reader, had you witnessed the manner in which that enormous albatross conducted itself, you wouldn't have stared with amazement--oh, no! You wouldn't have gone home with your mouth as wide open as your eyes, and have given a gasping account of what you had seen--by no means! You wouldn't have talked of feathered steam-engines, or of fabled rocs, or of winged elephants in the air--certainly not! Glynn's arms jerked as if he were holding on to the sheet of a shifting mainsail of a seventy-four. "Bear a hand," he cried, "else I'll be torn to bits." Several hands grasped the line in a moment. "My! wot a wopper," exclaimed Tim Rokens. "Och! don't he pull? Wot a fortin he'd make av he'd only set his-self up as a tug-boat in the Thames!" "If only we had him at the oar for a week," added Gurney. "Hoich! doctor, have ye strength to set disjointed limbs?" "Have a care, lads," cried the captain, in some anxiety; "give him more play, the line won't stand it. Time enough to jest after we've got him." The bird was now swooping, and waving, and beating its great wings so close to the boat that they began to entertain some apprehension lest any of the crew should be disabled by a stroke from them before the bird could be secured. Glynn, therefore, left the management of the line to others, and, taking up an oar, tried to strike it. But he failed in several attempts. "Wait till we haul him nearer, boy," said the captain. "Now, then!" Glynn struck again, and succeeded in hitting it a slight blow. At the same instant the albatross swept over the boat, and almost knocked the doctor overboard. As it brushed past, King Bumble, who was gifted with the agility of a monkey, leaped up, caught it round the neck, and the next moment the two were rolling together in the bottom of the boat. The creature was soon strangled, and a mighty cheer greeted this momentous victory. We are not aware that albatross flesh is generally considered very desirable food, but we are certain that starving men are particularly glad to get it, and that the supply now obtained by the wrecked mariners was the means of preserving their lives until they reached the land, which they did ten days afterwards, having thus accomplished a voyage of above two thousand miles over the ocean in an open boat in the course of eight weeks, and on an amount of food that was barely sufficient for one or two weeks' ordinary consumption. Great commiseration was expressed for them by the people at the Cape, who vied with each other in providing for their wants, and in showing them kindness. Ailie and her father were carried off bodily by a stout old merchant, with a broad kind face, and a hearty, boisterous manner, and lodged in his elegant villa during their stay in that quarter of the world, which was protracted some time in order that they might recruit the wasted strength of the party ere they commenced their voyage home in a vessel belonging to the same stout, broad-faced, and vociferous merchant. Meanwhile, several other ships departed for America, and by one of these Captain Dunning wrote to his sisters Martha and Jane. The captain never wrote to Martha or to Jane separately--he always wrote to them conjointly as "Martha Jane Dunning." The captain was a peculiar letter-writer. Those who may feel curious to know more about this matter are referred for further information to the next chapter. CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. HOME, SWEET HOME--THE CAPTAIN TAKES HIS SISTERS BY SURPRISE--A MYSTERIOUS STRANGER. It is a fact which we cannot deny, however much we may feel disposed to marvel at it, that laughter and weeping, at one and the same time, are compatible. The most resolute sceptic on this point would have been convinced of the truth of it had he been introduced into the Misses Martha and Jane Dunning's parlour on the beautiful summer morning in which the remarkable events we are about to relate occurred. On the morning in question, a letter-carrier walked up to the cottage with the yellow-painted face, and with the green door, so like a nose in the middle; and the window on each side thereof, so like its eyes; and the green Venetian blinds, that served so admirably for eyelids, attached thereto--all of which stood, and beamed, and luxuriated, and vegetated, and grew old in the centre of the town on the eastern seaboard of America, whose name (for strictly private reasons) we have firmly declined, and do still positively refuse to communicate. Having walked up to the cottage, the letter-carrier hit it a severe smash on its green nose, as good Captain Dunning had done many, many months before. The result now, as then, was the opening thereof by a servant-girl--the servant-girl of old. The letter-carrier was a taciturn man; he said nothing, but handed in the letter, and went his way. The servant-girl was a morose damsel; she said nothing, but took the letter, shut the door, and laid it (the letter, not the door) on the breakfast-table, and went her way--which way was the way of all flesh, fish, and fowl--namely, the kitchen, where breakfast was being prepared. Soon after the arrival of the letter Miss Jane Dunning--having put on an immaculately clean white collar and a spotlessly beautiful white cap with pink ribbons, which looked, if possible, taller than usual-- descended to the breakfast-parlour. Her eye instantly fell on the letter, and she exclaimed--"Oh!" at the full pitch of her voice. Indeed, did not respect for the good lady forbid, we would say that she _yelled_ "Oh!" Instantly, as if by magic, a faint "oh!" came down-stairs like an echo, from the region of Miss Martha Dunning's bedroom, and was followed up by a "What is it?" so loud that the most unimaginative person could not have failed to perceive that the elder sister had opened her door and put her head over the banisters. "What is it?" repeated Miss Martha. "A letter!" answered Miss Jane. "Who from?" (in eager surprise, from above.) "Brother George!" (in eager delight, from below.) Miss Jane had not come to this knowledge because of having read the letter, for it still lay on the table unopened, but because she could not read it at all! One of Captain Dunning's peculiarities was that he wrote an execrably bad and illegible hand. His English was good, his spelling pretty fair, considering the absurd nature of the orthography of his native tongue, and his sense was excellent, but the whole was usually shrouded in hieroglyphical mystery. Miss Jane could only read the opening "My dearest Sisters," and the concluding "George Dunning," nothing more. But Miss Martha could, by the exercise of some rare power, spell out her brother's hand, though not without much difficulty. "I'm coming," shouted Miss Martha. "Be quick!" screamed Miss Jane. In a few seconds Miss Martha entered the room with her cap and collar, though faultlessly clean and stiff, put on very much awry. "Give it me! Where is it?" Miss Jane pointed to the letter, still remaining transfixed to the spot where her eye had first met it, as if it were some dangerous animal which would bite if she touched it. Miss Martha snatched it up, tore it open, and flopped down on the sofa. Miss Jane snatched up an imaginary letter, tore it open (in imagination), and flopping down beside her sister, looked over her shoulder, apparently to make believe to herself that she read it along with her. Thus they read and commented on the captain's letter in concert. "`Table Bay'--dear me! what a funny bay that must be--`My dearest Sisters'--the darling fellow, he always begins that way, don't he, Jane dear?" "Bless him! he does, Martha dear." "`We've been all'--I can't make this word out, can you, dear?" "No, love." "`We've been all-worked!' No, it can't be that. Stay, `We've been all _wrecked_!'" Here Martha laid down the letter with a look of horror, and Jane, with a face of ashy paleness, exclaimed, "Then they're lost!" "But no," cried Martha, "George could not have written to us from Tablecloth Bay had he been lost." "Neither he could!" exclaimed Jane, eagerly. Under the influence of the revulsion of feeling this caused, Martha burst into tears and Jane into laughter. Immediately after, Jane wept and Martha laughed; then they both laughed and cried together, after which they felt for their pocket-handkerchiefs, and discovered that in their haste they had forgotten them; so they had to call the servant-girl and send her up-stairs for them; and when the handkerchiefs were brought, they had to be unfolded before the sisters could dry their eyes. When they had done so, and were somewhat composed, they went on with the reading of the letter. "`We've been all wrecked'--Dreadful--`and the poor _Red Angel_'"--"Oh! it can't be that, Martha dear!" "Indeed, it looks very like it, Jane darling. Oh! I see; it's _Eric_--`and the poor _Red Eric_ has been patched,' or--`pitched on a rock and smashed to sticks and stivers'--Dear me! what can that be? I know what `sticks' are, but I can't imagine what `stivers' mean. Can you, Jane?" "Haven't the remotest idea; perhaps Johnson, or Walker, or Webster may-- yes, Webster is sure to." "Oh! never mind just now, dear Jane, we can look it up afterwards--`stivers--sticks and stivers'--something very dreadful, I fear. `But we're all safe and well now'--I'm _so_ thankful!--`and we've been stumped'--No `starved nearly to death, too. My poor Ailie was thinner than ever I saw her before'--This is horrible, dear Jane." "Dreadful, darling Martha." "`But she's milk and butter'--It can't be that--`milk and'--oh!--`much better now.'" At this point Martha laid down the letter, and the two sisters wept for a few seconds in silence. "Darling Ailie!" said Martha, drying her eyes, "how thin she must have been!" "Ah! yes, and no one to take in her frocks." "`We'll be home in less than no time,'" continued Martha, reading, "`so you may get ready for us. Glynn will have tremendous long yarns to spin to you when we come back, and so will Ailie. She has seen a Lotofun since we left you'--Bless me! what _can_ that be, Jane?" "Very likely some terrible sea monster, Martha; how thankful we ought to be that it did not eat her!--`seen a Lotofun'--strange!--`a Lot--o''-- Oh!--`_lot o' fun_!'--that's it! how stupid of me!--`and my dear pet has been such an ass'--Eh! for shame, brother." "Don't you think, dear, Martha, that there's some more of that word on the next line?" "So there is, I'm _so_ stupid--`istance'--It's not rightly divided though--`as-sistance and a comfort to me.' I knew it couldn't be ass." "So did I. Ailie an ass! precious child!" "`Now, good-bye t'ye, my dear lassies,' "`Ever your affectionate brother,' "(Dear Fellow!) "`GEORGE DUNNING.'" Now it chanced that the ship which conveyed the above letter across the Atlantic was a slow sailer and was much delayed by contrary winds. And it also chanced--for odd coincidences do happen occasionally in human affairs--that the vessel in which Captain Dunning with Ailie and his crew embarked some weeks later was a fast-sailing ship, and was blown across the sea with strong favouring gales. Hence it fell out that the first vessel entered port on Sunday night, and the second cast anchor in the same port on Monday morning. The green-painted door, therefore, of the yellow-faced cottage, had scarcely recovered from the assault of the letter-carrier, when it was again struck violently by the impatient Captain Dunning. Miss Martha, who had just concluded and refolded the letter, screamed "Oh!" and leaped up. Miss Jane did the same, with this difference, that she leaped up before screaming "Oh!" instead of after doing so. Then both ladies, hearing voices outside, rushed towards the door of the parlour with the intention of flying to their rooms and there carefully arranging their tall white caps and clean white collars, and keeping the early visitor, whoever he or she might be, waiting fully a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes, before they should descend, stiffly, starchly, and ceremoniously, to receive him--or her. These intentions were frustrated by the servant-girl, who opened the green-painted door and let in the captain, who rushed into the parlour and rudely kissed his speechless sisters. "Can it be?" gasped Martha. Jane had meant to gasp "Impossible!" but seeing Ailie at that moment bound into Martha's arms, she changed her intention, uttered a loud scream instead, and fell down flat upon the floor under the impression that she had fainted. Finding, however, that this was not the case, she got up again quickly--ignorant of the fact that the tall cap had come off altogether in the fall--and stood before her sister weeping, and laughing, and wringing her hands, and waiting for her turn. But it did not seem likely to come soon, for Martha continued to hug Ailie, whom she had raised entirely from the ground, with passionate fervour. Seeing this, and feeling that to wait was impossible, Jane darted forward, threw her arms round Ailie--including Martha, as an unavoidable consequence--and pressed the child's back to her throbbing bosom. Between the two poor Ailie was nearly suffocated. Indeed, she was compelled to scream, not because she wished to, but because Martha and Jane squeezed a scream out of her. The scream acted on the former as a reproof. She resigned Ailie to Jane, flung herself recklessly on the sofa, and kicked. Meanwhile, Captain Dunning stood looking on, rubbing his hands,-- slapping his thighs, and blowing his nose. The servant-girl also stood looking on doing nothing--her face was a perfect blaze of amazement. "Girl," said the captain, turning suddenly towards her, "is breakfast ready?" "Yes," gasped the girl. "Then fetch it." The girl did not move. "D'ye hear?" cried the captain. "Ye-es." "Then look alive." The captain followed this up with a roar and such an indescribably ferocious demonstration that the girl fled in terror to the culinary regions, where she found the cat breakfasting on a pat of butter. The girl yelled, and flung first a saucepan, and after that the lid of a teapot, at the thief. She failed, of course, in this effort to commit murder, and the cat vanished. Breakfast was brought, but, excepting in the captain's case, breakfast was not eaten. What between questioning, and crying, and hysterical laughing, and replying, and gasping, explaining, misunderstanding, exclaiming, and choking, the other members of the party that breakfasted that morning in the yellow cottage with the much-abused green door, did little else than upset tea-cups and cream-pots, and sputter eggs about, and otherwise make a mess of the once immaculate tablecloth. "Oh, Aunt Martha!" exclaimed Ailie, in the midst of a short pause in the storm, "I'm _so_ very, very, _very_ glad to be home!" The child said this with intense fervour. No one but he who has been long, long away from the home of his childhood, and had come back after having despaired of ever seeing it again, can imagine with what deep fervour she said it, and then burst into tears. Aunt Jane at that moment was venturing to swallow her first mouthful of tea, so she gulped and choked, and Aunt Martha spent the next five minutes in violently beating the poor creature's back, as if she deemed choking a serious offence which merited severe punishment. As for the captain, that unfeeling monster went on grinning from ear to ear, and eating a heavy breakfast, as if nothing had happened. But a close observer might have noticed a curious process going on at the starboard side of his weather-beaten nose. In one of his many desperate encounters with whales, Captain Dunning had had the end of a harpoon thrust accidentally into the prominent member of his face just above the bridge. A permanent little hole was the result, and on the morning of which we write, a drop of water got into that hole continually, and when it rolled out--which it did about once every two minutes--and fell into the captain's tea-cup, it was speedily replaced by another drop, which trickled into the depths of that small cavern on the starboard side of the captain's nose. We don't pretend to account for that curious phenomenon. We merely record the fact. While the breakfast party were yet in this April mood, a knock was heard at the outer door. "Visitors!" said Martha, with a look that would have led a stranger to suppose that she held visitors in much the same estimation as tax-gatherers. "How awkward!" exclaimed Aunt Jane. "Send 'em away, girl," cried the captain. "We're all engaged. Can't see any one to-day." In a moment the servant-girl returned. "He says he _must_ see you." "See who?" cried the captain. "See _you_, sir." "Must he; then he shan't. Tell him that." "Please, sir, he says he won't go away." "Won't he?" As he said this the captain set his teeth, clenched his fists, and darted out of the room. "Oh! George! Stop him! do stop him. He's _so_ violent! He'll do something dreadful!" said Aunt Martha. "Will no one call out murder?" groaned Aunt Jane, with a shudder. As no one, however, ventured to check Captain Dunning, he reached the door, and confronted a rough, big, burly sailor, who stood outside with a free-and-easy expression of countenance, and his hands in his trousers pockets. "Why don't you go away when you're told, eh?" shouted the captain. "'Cause I won't," answered the man coolly. The captain stepped close up, but the sailor stood his ground and grinned. "Now, my lad, if you don't up anchor and make sail right away, I'll knock in your daylights." "No, you won't do nothin' o' the kind, old gen'lem'n; but you'll double-reef your temper, and listen to wot I've got to say; for it's very partikler, an' won't keep long without spilin'." "What have you got to say, then?" said the captain, becoming interested, but still feeling nettled at the interruption. "Can't tell you here." "Why not?" "Never mind; but put on your sky-scraper, and come down with me to the grog-shop wot I frequents, and I'll tell ye." "I'll do nothing of the sort; be off," cried the captain, preparing to slam the door. "Oh! it's all the same to me, in coorse, but I rather think if ye know'd that it's 'bout the _Termagant_, and that 'ere whale wot--but it don't matter. Good-mornin'." "Stay," cried the captain, as the last words fell on his ears. "Have you really anything to say to me about that ship?" "In coorse I has." "Won't you come in and say it here?" "Not by no means. You must come down to the grog-shop with _me_." "Well, I'll go." So saying the captain ran back to the parlour; said, in hurried tones, that he had to go out on matters of importance, but would be back to dine at five, and putting on his hat, left the cottage in company with the strange sailor. CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. CAPTAIN DUNNING ASTONISHES THE STRANGER--SURPRISING NEWS, AND DESPERATE RESOLVES. Still keeping his hands in his pockets and the free-and-easy expression on his countenance, the sailor swaggered through the streets of the town with Captain Dunning at his side, until he arrived at a very dirty little street, near the harbour, the chief characteristics of which were noise, compound smells, and little shops with sea-stores hung out in front. At the farther end of this street the sailor paused before a small public-house. "Here we are," said he; "this is the place w'ere I puts up w'en I'm ashore--w'ich ain't often--that's a fact. After you, sir." The captain hesitated. "You ain't afraid, air you?" asked the sailor, in an incredulous tone. "No, I'm not, my man; but I have an objection to enter a public-house, unless I cannot help it. Have you had a glass this morning?" The sailor looked puzzled, as if he did not see very clearly what the question had to do with the captain's difficulty. "Well, for the matter o' that, I've had three glasses this mornin'." "Then I suppose you have no objection to try a glass of my favourite tipple, have you?" The man smiled, and wiping his mouth with the cuff of his jacket, as if he expected the captain was, then and there, about to hand him a glass of the tipple referred to, said-- "No objection wotsomediver." "Then follow me; I'll take you to the place where _I_ put up sometimes when I'm ashore. It's not far off." Five minutes sufficed to transport them from the dirty little street near the harbour to the back-parlour of the identical coffee-house in which the captain was first introduced to the reader. Here, having whispered something to the waiter, he proceeded to question his companion on the mysterious business for which he had brought him there. "Couldn't we have the tipple first?" suggested the sailor. "It will be here directly. Have you breakfasted?" "'Xceptin' the three glasses I told ye of--no." Well, now, what have you to tell me about the _Termagant_? You have already said that you are one of her crew, and that you were in the boat that day when we had a row about the whale. What more can you tell me? The sailor sat down on a chair, stretched out his legs quite straight, and very wide apart, and thrust his hands, if possible, deeper into his pockets than they even were thrust before--so deep, in fact, as to suggest the idea that there were no pockets there at all--merely holes. Then he looked at Captain Dunning with a peculiarly sly expression of countenance and winked. "Well, that's not much. Anything more?" inquired the captain. "Ho, yes; lots more. The _Termagant's_ in this yere port--at--this-- yere--moment." The latter part of this was said in a hoarse emphatic whisper, and the man raising up both legs to a horizontal position, let them fall so that his heels came with a crash upon the wooden floor. "Is she?" cried the captain, with lively interest; "and her captain?" "He's--yere--too!" Captain Dunning took one or two hasty strides across the floor, as if he were pacing his own quarterdeck--then stopped suddenly and said-- "Can you get hold of any more of that boat's crew?" "I can do nothin' more wotiver, nor say nothin' more wotsomediver, till I've tasted that 'ere tipple of yourn." The captain rang the bell, and the waiter entered with ham and eggs, buttered toast, and hot coffee for two. The sailor opened his eyes to their utmost possible width, and made an effort to thrust his hands still deeper into his unfathomable trousers pockets; then he sat bolt upright, and gathering his legs as close under his chair as possible, clasped his knees with his hands, hugged himself, and grinned from ear to ear. After sitting a second or two in that position, he jumped up, and going forward to the table, took up the plate of ham and eggs, as if to make sure that it was a reality, and smelt it. "Is _this_ your favourite tipple?" he said, on being quite satisfied of the reality of what he saw. "Coffee is my favourite drink," replied the captain, laughing. "I never take anything stronger." "Ho! you're a to-teetler?" "I am. Now, my man, as you have not yet had breakfast, and as you interrupted me in the middle of mine, suppose we sit down and discuss the matter of the whale over this." "Well, this is the rummiest way of offerin' to give a fellow a glass as I ever did come across since I was a tadpole, as sure as my name's Dick Jones," remarked the sailor, sitting down opposite the captain, and turning up the cuffs of his coat. Having filled his mouth to its utmost possible extent, the astonished seaman proceeded, at one and the same time, to masticate and to relate all that he knew in regard to the _Termagant_. He said that not only was that vessel in port at that time, but that the same men were still aboard; that the captain--Dixon by name--was still in command, and that the whale which had been seized from the crew of the _Red Eric_ had been sold along with the rest of the cargo. He related; moreover, how that he and his comrades had been very ill-treated by Captain Dixon during the voyage, and that he (Captain D) was, in the opinion of himself and his shipmates, the greatest blackguard afloat, and had made them so miserable by his brutality and tyranny, that they all hoped they might never meet with his like again-- not to mention the hopes and wishes of a very unfeeling nature which they one and all expressed in regard to that captain's future career. Besides all this, he stated that he (Dick Jones) had recognised Captain Dunning when he landed that morning, and had followed him to the cottage with the yellow face and the green door; after which he had taken a turn of half-an-hour or so up and down the street to think what he ought to do, and had at last resolved to tell all that he knew, and offer to stand witness against his captain, which he was then and there prepared to do, at that time or at any future period, wherever he (Captain Dunning) liked, and whenever he pleased, and that there was an end of the whole matter, and that was a fact. Having unburdened his mind, and eaten all the ham, and eggs, and toast, and drunk all the coffee, and asked for more and got it, Dick Jones proceeded to make himself supremely happy by filling his pipe and lighting it. "I'll take him to law," said Captain Dunning firmly, smiting the table with his fist. "I know'd a feller," said Jones, "wot always said, w'en he heard a feller say that, `You'll come for to wish that ye hadn't;' but I think ye're right, cap'en; for it's a clear case, clear as daylight; an' we'll all swear to a'most anything as'll go fur to prove it." "But are you sure your messmates are as willing as you are to witness against the captain?" "Sure? In coorse I is--sartin sure. Didn't he lamp two on 'em with a rope's-end once till they wos fit to bust, and all for nothin' but skylarkin'? They'll all go in the same boat with me, 'cept perhaps the cook, who is named Baldwin. He's a cross-grained critter, an'll stan' by the cap'en through thick an thin, an' so will the carpenter--Box they call him--he's dead agin us; but that's all." "Then I'll do it at once," cried Captain Dunning, rising and putting on his hat firmly, as a man does when he has made a great resolve, which he more than half suspects will get him into a world of difficulties and trouble. "I s'pose I may set here till ye come back?" inquired Dick Jones, who now wore a dim mysterious aspect, in consequence of the cloud of smoke in which he had enveloped himself. "You may sit there till they turn you out; but come and take breakfast with me at the same hour to-morrow, will ye?" "Won't I?" "Then good-day." So saying, the captain left the coffee-house, and hurried to his sisters' cottage, where he rightly conjectured he should find Glynn Proctor. Without telling his sisters the result of the interview with the "rude seaman," he took Glynn's arm and sallied forth in search of Tim Rokens and Mr Millons, both of whom they discovered enjoying their pipes, after a hearty breakfast, in a small, unpretending, but excellent and comfortable "sailors' home," in the dirty little street before referred to. The greater part of the crew of the late _Red Eric_ (now "sticks and stivers") were found in the same place, engaged in much the same occupation, and to these, in solemn conclave assembled, Captain Dunning announced his intention of opening a law-suit against the captain of the _Termagant_ for the unlawful appropriation of the whale harpooned by Glynn. The men highly approved of what they called a "shore-going scrimmage," and advised the captain to go and have the captain and crew of the _Termagant_ "put in limbo right off." Thus advised and encouraged, Captain Dunning went to a lawyer, who, after hearing the case, stated it as his opinion that it was a good one, and forthwith set about taking the needful preliminary steps to commencing the action. Thereafter Captain Dunning walked rapidly home, wiping his hot brow as he went, and entering the parlour of the cottage--the yellow-faced cottage--flung himself on the sofa with a reckless air, and said, "I've done it!" "Horror!" cried Aunt Martha. "Misery!" gasped Aunt Jane, who happened to be fondling Ailie at the time of her brother's entrance. "Is he dead?" "_Quite_ dead?" added Martha. "Is _who_ dead?" inquired the captain, in surprise. "The man--the rude sailor!" "Dead! No." "You said just now that you had done it." "So I have. I've done the deed. I've gone to law." Had the captain said that he had gone to "sticks and stivers," his sisters could not have been more startled and horrified. They dreaded the law, and hated it with a great and intense hatred, and not without reason; for their father had been ruined in a law-suit, and his father had broken the law, in some political manner they could never clearly understand, and had been condemned by the law to perpetual banishment. "Will it do you much harm, dear, papa?" inquired Ailie, in great concern. "Harm? Of course not. I hope it'll do me, and you too, a great deal of good." "I'm _so_ glad to hear that; for I've heard people say that when you once go into it you never get out of it again." "So have I," said Aunt Martha, with a deep sigh. "And so have I," added Aunt Jane, with a deeper sigh, "and I believe it's true." "It's false!" cried the captain, laughing, "and you are all silly geese; the law is--" "A bright and glorious institution! A desirable investment for the talents of able men! A machine for justice usually--injustice occasionally--and, like all other good things, often misused, abused, and spoken against!" said Glynn Proctor, at that moment entering the room, and throwing his hat on one chair, and himself on another. "I've had enough of the sea, captain, and have come to resign my situation, and beg for dinner." "You shall have it immediately, dear Glynn," said Martha, whose heart warmed at the sight of one who had been so kind to her little niece. "Nay, I'm in no hurry," said Glynn, quickly; "I did but jest, dear madam, as Shakespeare has it. Perhaps it was Milton who said it; one can't be sure; but whenever a truly grand remark escapes you, you're safe to clap it down to Shakespeare." At this point the servant-girl announced dinner. At the same instant a heavy foot was heard in the passage, and Tim Rokens announced himself, saying that he had just seen the captain's lawyer, and had been sent to say that he wished to see Captain Dunning in the course of the evening. "Then let him go on wishing till I'm ready to go to him. Meanwhile do you come and dine with us, Rokens, my lad." Rokens looked awkward, and shuffled a little with his feet, and shook his head. "Why, what's the matter, man?" Rokens looked as if he wished to speak, but hesitated. "If ye please, cap'en, I'd raither not, axin' the ladies' parding. I'd like a word with you in the passage." "By all means," replied the captain, going out of the room with the sailor. "Now, what's wrong?" "My flippers, cap'en," said Rokens, thrusting out his hard, thick, enormous hands, which were stained all over with sundry streaks of tar, and were very red as well as extremely clumsy to look at--"I've bin an' washed 'em with hot water and rubbed 'em with grease till I a'most took the skin off, but they won't come clean, and I'm not fit to sit down with ladies." To this speech the captain replied by seizing Tim Rokens by the collar and dragging him fairly into the parlour. "Here's a man," cried the captain enthusiastically, presenting him to Martha, "who's sailed with me for nigh thirty years, and is the best harpooner I ever had, and has stuck to me through thick and thin, in fair weather and foul, in heat and cold, and was kinder to Ailie during the last voyage than all the other men put together, exceptin' Glynn, and who tells me his hands are covered with tar, and that he can't wash 'em clean nohow, and isn't fit to dine with ladies; so you will oblige me, Martha, by ordering him to leave the house." "I will, brother, with pleasure. I order you, Mr Rokens, to leave this house _at your peril_! And I invite you to partake of our dinner, which is now on the table in the next room." Saying this, Aunt Martha grasped one of the great tar-stained "flippers" in both of her own delicate hands, and shook it with a degree of vigour that Tim Rokens afterwards said he could not have believed possible had he not felt it. Seeing this, Aunt Jane turned aside and blew her nose violently. Tim Rokens attempted to make a bow, failed, and grinned. The captain cried--"Now, then, heave ahead!" Glynn, in the exuberance of his spirits, uttered a miniature cheer. Ailie gave vent to a laugh, that sounded as sweet as a good song; and the whole party adjourned to the dining-room, where the servant-girl was found in the sulks because dinner was getting rapidly cold, and the cat was found:-- "Prowling round the festal board On thievish deeds intent." [See Milton's _Paradise Regained_, latest edition.] CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN. THE LAW-SUIT--THE BATTLE, AND THE VICTORY. The great case of Dunning _versus_ Dixon came on at last. On that day Captain Dunning was in a fever; Glynn Proctor was in a fever; Tim Rokens was in a fever; the Misses Dunning were in two separate fevers--everybody, in fact, on the Dunning side of the case was in a fever of nervous anxiety and mental confusion. As witnesses in the case, they had been precognosced to such an extent by the lawyers that their intellects were almost overturned. On being told that he was to be precognosced. Tim Rokens said stoutly, "He'd like to see the man as 'ud do it"; under the impression that that was the legal term for being kicked, or otherwise maltreated; and on being informed that the word signified merely an examination as to the extent of his knowledge of the facts of the case, he said quietly, "Fire away!" Before they had done firing away, the gallant harpooner was so confused that he began to regard the whole case as already hopeless. The other men were much in the same condition; but in a private meeting held among themselves the day before the trial, Rokens made the following speech, which comforted them not a little. "Messmates and shipmates," said Tim, "I'll tell ye wot it is. I'm no lawyer--that's a fact--but I'm a man; an' wot's a man?--it ain't a bundle o' flesh an' bones on two legs, with a turnip a-top o't, is it?" "Be no manes," murmured Briant, with an approving nod. "Cer'nly not," remarked Dick Barnes. "I second that motion." "Good," continued Rokens. "Then, bein' a man, I've got brains enough to see that, if we don't want to contredick one another, we must stick to the truth." "You don't suppose I'd go fur to tell lies, do you?" said Tarquin quickly. "In coorse not. But what I mean to say is, that we must stick to what we _knows_ to be the truth, and not be goin' for to guess at it, or _think_ that we knows it, and then swear to it as if we wos certain sure." "Hear! hear!" from the assembled company. "In fact," observed Glynn, "let what we say be absolutely true, and say just as little as we can. That's how to manage a good case." "An', be all manes," added Briant, "don't let any of ye try for to improve matters be volunteerin' yer opinion. Volunteerin' opinions is stuff. Volunteerin' is altogether a bad look-out. I know'd a feller, I did--a strappin' young feller he was, too, more betoken--as volunteered himself to death, he did. To be sure, his wos a case o' volunteerin' into the Louth Militia, and he wos shot, he wos, in a pop'lar riot, as the noosepapers said--a scrimmage, I calls it--so don't let any o' us be goin' for to volunteer opinions w'en nobody axes 'em--no, nor wants 'em." Briant looked so pointedly at Gurney while delivering this advice that that obese individual felt constrained to look indignant, and inquire whether "them 'ere imperent remarks wos meant for him." To which Briant replied that "they wos meant for him, as well as for ivery man then present." Whereupon Gurney started up and shook his fist across the table at Briant, and Briant made a face at Gurney, at which the assembled company of mariners laughed, and immediately thereafter the meeting was broken up. Next day the trial came on, and as the case was expected to be more than usually interesting, the house was filled to overflowing long before the hour. The trial lasted all that day, and all the next, and a great part of the third, but we do not purpose going into it in detail. The way in which Mr Rasp (Captain Dunning's counsel) and Mr Tooth (Captain Dixon's counsel) badgered, browbeat, and utterly bamboozled the witnesses on both sides, and totally puzzled the jury, can only be understood by those who have frequented courts of law, but could not be fully or adequately described in less than six hundred pages. In the course of the trial the resolutions come to by the crew of the _Red Eric_, that they would tell _nothing_ but the truth, and carefully refrain from touching on what they were not quite sure of, proved to be of the greatest advantage to the pursuer's case. We feel constrained here to turn aside for one moment to advise the general adoption of that course of conduct in all the serious affairs of life. The evidence of Tim Rokens was clear and to the point. The whale had been first struck by Glynn with a harpoon, to which a drogue was attached; it had been followed up by the crew of the _Red Eric_ and also by the crew of the _Termagant_. The boats of the latter over-took the fish first, fixed a harpoon in it, and lanced it mortally. The drogue and harpoon of the _Red Eric_ were still attached to the whale when this was done, so that, according to the laws of the fishery, the crew of the _Termagant_ had no right to touch the whale--it was a "fast" fish. If the drogue had become detached the fish would have been free, and both crews would have been entitled to chase and capture it if they were able. Angry words and threats had passed between the crews of the opposing boats, but the whale put a stop to that by smashing the boat of the _Red Eric_ with its tail, whereupon the boat of the _Termagant_ made off with the fish (which died almost immediately after), and left the crew of the boat belonging to the _Red Eric_ struggling in the water. Such was the substance of the evidence of the harpooner, and neither cross-examination nor re-cross-examination by Mr Tooth, the counsel for the defendant, could induce Tim Rokens to modify, alter, omit, or contradict one iota of what he had said. It must not be supposed, however, that all of the men gave their evidence so clearly or so well. The captain did, though he was somewhat nervous, and the doctor did, and Glynn did. But that of Nikel Sling was unsatisfactory, in consequence of his being unable to repress his natural tendency to exaggeration. Tarquin also did harm; for, in his spite against the crew of the _Termagant_, he made statements which were not true, and his credit as a witness was therefore totally destroyed. Last of all came Jim Scroggles, who, after being solemnly sworn, deposed that he was between thirty-five and thirty-six years of age, on hearing which Gurney said "Oh!" with peculiar emphasis, and the people laughed, and the judge cried "Silence," and the examination went on. After some time Mr Tooth rose to cross-question Jim Scroggles, who happened to be a nervous man in public, and was gradually getting confused and angry. "Now, my man, please to be particular in your replies," said Mr Tooth, pushing up his spectacles on his forehead, thrusting his hands into his trousers pockets, and staring very hard at Jim. "You said that you pulled the second oar from the bow on the day in which the whale was killed." "Yes." "Are you quite sure of that? Was it not the _third_ oar, now?" "Yes or no," interrupted Mr Tooth. "It's so long since--" "Yes or no," repeated Mr Tooth. "Yes," roared Scroggles, forgetting at the moment, in his confusion and indignation at not being allowed to speak, in what manner the question had been put. "Yes," echoed Mr Tooth, addressing the judge, but looking at the jury. "You will observe, gentlemen. Would your lordship be so good as to note that? This witness, on that very particular occasion, when every point in the circumstances must naturally have been impressed deeply on the memories of all present, appears to have been so confused as not to know which oar of the boat he pulled. So, my man" (turning to the witness), "it appears evident that either you are now mis-stating the facts of the case or were then incapable of judging of them." Jim Scroggles felt inclined to leap out of the witness-box, and knocked the teeth of Mr Tooth down his throat! But he repressed the inclination, and that gentleman went on to say-- "When the boat of the _Red Eric_ came up to the whale was the drogue still attached to it?" "In coorse it was. Didn't ye hear me say that three or--" "Be so good as to answer my questions simply, and do not make unnecessary remarks, sir. Was the drogue attached when the boat came up? Yes or no?" "Yes." "How do you know?" "'Cause I seed it." "You are quite sure that you saw it?" "In coorse!--leastwise, Tim Rokens seed it, and all the men in the boat seed it, and said so to me afterwards--w'ich is the same thing, though I can't 'xactly say I seed it myself, 'cause I was looking hard at the men in the enemy's boat, and considerin' which on 'em I should give a dab in the nose to first w'en we come along side of 'em." "Oh, then you did _not_ see the drogue attached to the whale?" said Mr Tooth, with a glance at the jury; "and you were so taken up with the anticipated fight, I suppose, that you scarcely gave your attention to the whale at all! Were the other men in your boat in a similarly unobservant condition?" "Eh?" exclaimed Scroggles. "Were the other men as eager for the fight as you were?" "I s'pose they wos; you'd better ax 'em. _I_ dun know." "No, I don't suppose you do, considering the state of mind you appear to have been in at the time. Do you know which part of the whale struck your boat? Was it the head?" "No; it was the tail." "Are you quite sure of that?" "Ho, yes, quite sartin, for I've got a knot on my head this day where the tip of its flukes came down on me." "You're quite sure of that? Might it not have been the part of the fish near the tail, now, that struck you, or the fin just under the tail?" "No; I'm quite sartin sure it warn't _that_." "How are you so sure it wasn't that?" "Because whales hain't got no fins just under their tails!" replied Scroggles, with a broad grin. There was another loud laugh at this, and Mr Tooth looked a little put out, and the judge cried "Silence" again, and threatened to clear the court. After a few more questions Jim Scroggles was permitted to retire, which he did oppressed with a feeling that his evidence had done the case little good, if not some harm, yet rather elated than otherwise at the success of his last hit. That evening Captain Dunning supped with Ailie and his sisters in low spirits. Glynn and the doctor and Tim Rokens and the two mates, Millons and Markham, supped with him, also in low spirits; and King Bumble acted the part of waiter, for that sable monarch had expressed an earnest desire to become Captain Dunning's servant, and the captain had agreed to "take him on," at least for a time. King Bumble was also in low spirits; and, as a natural consequence, so were Aunts Martha and Jane and little Ailie. It seemed utterly incomprehensible to the males of the party, how so good a case as this should come to wear such an unpromising aspect. "The fact is," said the captain, at the conclusion of a prolonged discussion, "I don't believe we'll gain it." "Neither do I," said the doctor, helping himself to a large quantity of salad, as if that were the only comfort now left to him, and he meant to make the most of it before giving way to total despair. "I knew it," observed Aunt Martha firmly. "I always said the law was a wicked institution." "It's a great shame!" said Aunt Jane indignantly; "but what could we expect? It treats every one ill." "Won't it treat Captain Dixon well, if he wins, aunt?" inquired Ailie. "Dear child, what can you possibly know about law?" said Aunt Martha. "Would you like a little more tart?" asked Aunt Jane. "Bravo! Ailie," cried Glynn, "that's a fair question. I back it up." "How much do you claim for damages, George?" inquired Aunt Martha, changing the subject. ("Question!" whispered Glynn.) "Two thousand pounds," answered the captain. "What!" exclaimed the aunts, in a simultaneous burst of amazement. "All for _one_ fish?" "Ay, it was a big one, you see, and Dick Jones, one of the men of the _Termagant_, told me it was sold for that. It's a profitable fishing, when one doesn't lose one's ship. What do you say to go with me and Ailie on our next trip, sisters? You might use up all your silk and worsted thread and crooked pins." "What nonsense you talk, George; but I suppose you really do use pretty large hooks and lines when you fish for whales?" Aunt Martha addressed the latter part of her remark to Tim Rokens, who seemed immensely tickled by the captain's pleasantry. "Hooks and lines, ma'am!" cried Rokens, regarding his hostess with a look of puzzled surprise. "To be sure we do," interrupted Glynn; "we use anchors baited with live crocodiles--sometimes elephants, when we can't get crocodiles. But hippopotamuses do best." "Oh! Glynn!" cried Ailie, laughing, "how can you?" "It all depends on the drogue," remarked the doctor. "I'm surprised to find how few of the men can state with absolute certainty that they saw the drogue attached to the whale when the boat came up to it. It all hinges upon that." "Yes," observed Mr Millons, "the 'ole case 'inges on that, because that proves it was a fast fish." "Dear me, Mr Millons," said Aunt Martha, smiling, "I have heard of fast young men, but I never heard of a fast fish before." "Didn't you, ma'am?" exclaimed the first mate, looking up in surprise, for that matter-of-fact seamen seldom recognised a joke at first sight. Aunt Martha, who very rarely ventured on the perpetration of a joke, blushed, and turning somewhat hastily to Mr Markham, asked if he would "take another cup of tea." Seeing that there was no tea on the table, she substituted "another slice of ham," and laughed. Thereupon the whole company laughed, and from that moment their spirits began to rise. They began to discuss the more favourable points of the evidence led that day, and when they retired at a late hour to rest, their hopes had again become sanguine. Next morning the examination of the witnesses for the defendant came on. There were more of them than Dick Jones had expected; for the crew of the _Termagant_ happened to be partly made up of very bad men, who were easily bribed by their captain to give evidence in his favour. But it soon became evident that they had not previously determined, as Captain Dunning's men had done, to stick to the simple truth. They not only contradicted each other but each contradicted himself more than once; and it amazed them all, more than they could tell, to find how easily Mr Rasp turned their thoughts outside in, and caused them to prove conclusively that they were telling falsehoods. After the case had been summed up by the judge, the jury retired to consult, but they only remained five minutes away, and then came back with a verdict in favour of the pursuers. "Who's the `pursooers?'" inquired Gurney, when this was announced to him by Nikel Sling. "Ain't we all pursooers? Wasn't we all pursooing the whale together?" "Oh, you grampus!" cried Nikel, laughing. "Don't ye know that _we_ is the purshooers, 'cause why? We're purshooin' the cap'en and crew of the _Termagant_ at law, and means to purshoo 'em too, I guess, till they stumps up for that air whale. And they is the defendants, 'cause they're s'posed to defend themselves to the last gasp; but it ain't o' no manner o' use." Nikel Sling was right. Captain Dixon _was_ pursued until he paid back the value of his ill-gotten whale, and was forcibly reminded by this episode in his career, that "honesty is the best policy" after all. Thus Captain Dunning found himself suddenly put in possession of a sum of two thousand pounds. CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT. THE CONCLUSION. The trouble, and worry, and annoyance that the sum of 2000 pounds gave to Captain Dunning is past all belief. That worthy man, knowing that Glynn Proctor had scarcely a penny in the world, not even his "kit" (as sailors name their sea-chests), which had been lost in the wreck of the _Red Eric_, and that the boy was about to be cast upon the world again an almost friendless wanderer--knowing all this, we say, Captain Dunning insisted that as Glynn had been the first to strike the whale, and as no one else had had anything to do with its capture, he (Glynn) was justly entitled to the money. Glynn firmly declined to admit the justice of this view of the case; he had been paid his wages; that was all he had any right to claim; so he positively refused to take the money. But the captain was more than his match. He insisted so powerfully, and argued so logically, that Glynn at last consented, on condition that 500 pounds of it should be distributed among his shipmates. This compromise was agreed to, and thus Glynn came into possession of what appeared in his eyes a fortune of 1500 pounds. "Now, what am I to do with it? that is the question." Glynn propounded this knotty question one evening, about three weeks after the trial, to his friends of the yellow cottage with the green-painted door. "Put it in the bank," suggested Aunt Martha. "Yes, and live on the interest," added Aunt Jane. "Or invest in the whale-fishery," said Captain Dunning, emitting a voluminous cloud of tobacco-smoke, as if to suggest the idea that the investment would probably end in something similar to that. (The captain was a peculiarly favoured individual; he was privileged to smoke in the Misses Dunning's parlour.) "Oh! I'll tell you what to do, Glynn," cried Ailie, clapping her hands; "it would be _so_ nice. Buy a cottage with it--a nice, pretty, white-painted cottage, beside a wood, with a little river in front of it, and a small lake with a boat on it not far off, and a far, far view from the windows of fields, and villages, and churches, and cattle, and sheep, and--" "Hurrah! Ailie, go it, my lass!" interrupted Glynn; "and horses, and ponies, and carts, and cats, and blackbirds, and cocks and hens, and ploughmen, and milkmaids, and beggars, all in the foreground; and coaches, and railroads, and steamboats, and palaces, and canals, in the middle distance; with a glorious background of the mighty sea glittering for ever under the blazing beams of a perpetually setting sun, mingled with the pale rays of an eternally rising moon, and laden with small craft, and whale-ships, and seaweed, and fish, and bumboats, and men-of-war!" "Oh, how nice!" cried Ailie, screaming with delight. "Go ahead, lad, never give in!" said the captain; whose pipe during this glowing description had been keeping up what seemed like a miniature sea-fight. "You've forgot the main point." "What's that?" inquired Glynn. "Why, a palace for Jacko close beside it, with a portrait of Jacko over the drawing-room fireplace, and a marble bust of Jacko in the four corners of every room." "So I did; I forgot that," replied Glynn. "Dear Jacko!" said Ailie, laughing heartily, and holding out her hand. The monkey, which had become domesticated in the house, leaped nimbly upon her knee, and looked up in her face. "Oh! Ailie dear, do put it down!" cried Aunt Jane, shuddering. "How can you?" said Aunt Martha; "dirty beast!" Of course Aunt Martha applied the latter part of her remark to the monkey, not to the child. "I'll never be able to bear it," remarked Aunt Jane. "And it will never come to agree with the cat," observed Aunt Martha. Ailie patted her favourite on the cheek and told it to go away, adding, that it was a dear pet--whereupon that small monkey retired modestly to a corner near the sideboard. It chanced to be the corner nearest to the sugar-basin, which had been left out by accident; but Jacko didn't know that, of course--at least, if he did, he did not say so. It is probable, however, that he found it out in course of time; for an hour or two afterwards the distinct marks of ten very minute fingers were visible therein, a discovery which Aunt Martha made with a scream, and Aunt Jane announced with a shriek--which caused Jacko to retire precipitately. "But really," said Glynn, "jesting apart, I must take to something on shore, for although I like the sea very well, I find that I like the land better." "Well, since you wish to be in earnest about it," said Captain Dunning, "I'll tell you what has been passing in my mind of late. I'm getting to be an oldish young man now, you see, and am rather tired of the sea myself, so I also think of giving it up. I have now laid by about five thousand pounds, and with this I think of purchasing a farm. I learnt something of farming before I took to the sea, so that I am not quite so green on such matters as you might suppose, though I confess I'm rather rusty and behind the age; but that won't much matter in a fine country like this, and I can get a good steward to take command and steer the ship until I have brushed up a bit in shore-goin' navigation. There is a farm which is just the very thing for me not more than twenty miles from this town, with a cottage on it and a view _somewhat_ like the one you and Ailie described a few minutes ago, though not _quite_ so grand. But there's one great and insuperable objection to my taking it." "What is that?" inquired Aunt Martha, who, with her sister, expressed in their looks unbounded surprise at the words of their brother, whom they regarded as so thoroughly and indissolubly connected with the sea that they would probably have been less surprised had he announced it to be his intention to become a fish and thenceforward dwell in a coral cave. "I have not enough of money wherewith to buy and stock it." "_What_ a pity!" said Ailie, whose hopes had been rising with extraordinary rapidity, and were thus quenched at once. Glynn leaped up and smote his thigh with his right hand, and exclaimed in a triumphant manner--"That's the very ticket!" "What's the very ticket?" inquired the captain. "I'll lend you _my_ money," said Glynn. "Ay, boy, that's just the point I was comin' to. A thousand pounds will do. Now, if you lend me that sum, I'm willin' to take you into partnership, and we'll buy the place and farm it together. I think we'll pull well in the same boat, for I think you like me well enough, and I'm sure I like you, and I know Ailie don't object to either of us; and after I'm gone, Glynn, you can work the farm for Ailie and give her her share. What say you?" "Done," exclaimed Glynn, springing up and seizing the captain's hand. "I'll be your son and you'll be my father, and Ailie will be my sister-- and _won't_ we be jolly, just!" Ailie laughed, and so did the two aunts, but the captain made no reply. He merely smoked with a violence that was quite appalling, and nodding his head, winked at Glynn, as if to say--"That's it, exactly!" The compact thus half-jestingly entered into was afterwards thoroughly ratified and carried into effect. The cottage was named the Red Eric, and the property was named the Whale Brae, after an ancestral estate which, it was supposed, had, at some remote period, belonged to the Dunning family in Scotland. The title was not inappropriate, for it occupied the side of a rising ground, which, as a feature in the landscape, looked very like a whale, "only," as Glynn said, "not quite so big," which was an outrageous falsehood, for it was a great deal bigger! A small wooden palace was built for Jacko, and many a portrait was taken of him by Glynn, in charcoal, on many an outhouse wall, to the immense delight of Ailie. As to having busts of him placed in the corners of every room, Glynn remarked that that was quite unnecessary, for Jacko _almost_ "bu'st" himself in every possible way, at every conceivable time, in every imaginable place, whenever he could conveniently collect enough of food to do so--which was not often, for Jacko, though small, was of an elastic as well as an amiable disposition. Tim Rokens stuck to his old commander to the last. He said he had sailed with him the better part of his life, in the same ships, had weathered the same storms, and chased the same fish, and now that the captain had made up his mind to lay up in port, he meant to cast anchor beside him. So the bold harpooner became a species of overseer and jack-of-all-trades on the property. Phil Briant set up as a carpenter in the village close by, took to himself a wife (his first wife having died), and became Tim Rokens' boon companion and bosom friend. As for the rest of the crew of the _Red Eric_, they went their several ways, got into separate ships, and were never again re-assembled together; but nearly all of them came at separate times, in the course of years, to visit their old captain and shipmates in the Red Eric at Whale Brae. In course of time Ailie grew up into such a sweet, pretty, modest, loveable woman, that the very sight of her did one's heart good. Love was the ruling power in Ailie's heart--love to her God and Saviour and to all His creatures. She was not perfect. Who is? She had faults, plenty of them. Who has not? But her loving nature covered up everything with a golden veil so beautiful, that no one saw her faults, or, if they did, would not believe them to be faults at all. Glynn, also, grew up and became a _man_. Observe, reader, we don't mean to say that he became a thing with long legs, and broad shoulders, and whiskers. Glynn became a real man; an out-and-out man; a being who realised the fact that he had been made and born into the world for the purpose of doing that world good, and leaving it better than he found it. He did not think that to strut, and smoke cigars, and talk loud or big, and commence most of his sentences with "Aw! 'pon my soul!" was the summit of true greatness. Neither did he, flying in disgust to the opposite extreme, speak like a misanthrope, and look like a bear, or dress like a savage. He came to know the truth of the proverb, that "there is a time for all things," and following up the idea suggested by those words, he came to perceive that there is a place for all things-- that place being the human heart, when in a true and healthy condition in all its parts, out of which, in their proper time, some of those "all things" ought to be ever ready to flow. Hence Glynn could weep with the sorrowful and laugh with the gay. He could wear a red or a blue flannel shirt, and pull an oar (ay, the best oar) at a rowing match, or he could read the Bible and pray with a bedridden old woman. Had Glynn Proctor been a naval commander, he might have sunk, destroyed, or captured fleets. Had he been a soldier, he might have stormed and taken cities; being neither, he was a greater man than either, for he could "_rule his own spirit_." If you are tempted, dear reader, to think that an easy matter, just try it. Make the effort. The first time you chance to be in a towering rage (which I trust, however, may never be), try to keep your tongue silent, and, most difficult of all, try at that moment to pray, and see whether your opinion as to your power over your own spirit be not changed. Such were Glynn and Ailie. "So they married, of course," you remark. Well, reader, and why not? Nothing could be more natural. Glynn felt, and said, too, that nothing was nearer his heart. And Ailie admitted-- after being told by Glynn that she must be his wife, for he wanted to have her, and was determined to have her whether she would or not--that her heart was in similar proximity to the idea of marriage. Captain Dunning did not object--it would have been odd if he had objected to the fulfilment of his chief earthly desire. Tim Rokens did not groan when he heard of the proposal--by no means; on the contrary, he roared, and laughed, and shouted with delight, and went straight off to tell Phil Briant, who roared a duet with him, and they both agreed that it "wos the most gloriously nat'ral thing they ever did know since they wos launched upon the sea of time!" So Glynn Proctor and Ailie Dunning were married, and lived long, and happily, and usefully at Whale Brae. Captain Dunning lived with them until he was so old that Ailie's eldest daughter (also named Ailie) had to lead him from his bedroom each morning to breakfast, and light his pipe for him when he had finished. And Ailie the second performed her duties well, and made the old man happy--happier than he could find words to express--for Ailie the second was like her mother in all things, and greater praise than that could not possibly be awarded to her. The affairs of the cottage with the yellow face and the green door were kept in good order for many years by one of Ailie the second's little sisters--Martha by name; and there was much traffic and intercourse between that ancient building and the Red Eric, as long as the two aunts lived, which was a very long time indeed. Its green door was, during that time, almost battered off its hinges by successive juvenile members of the Proctor family. And truly deep and heartfelt was the mourning at Whale Brae when the amiable sisters were taken away at last. As for Tim Rokens, that ancient mariner became the idol of the young Proctors, as they successively came to be old enough to know his worth. The number of ships and boats he made for the boys among them was absolutely fabulous. Equal, perhaps, to about a twentieth part of the number of pipes of tobacco he smoked during his residence there, and about double the number of stories told them by Phil Briant during the same period. King Bumble lived with the family until his woolly head became as white as his face was black; and Jacko--poor little Jacko--lived so long, that he became big, but he did not become less amiable, or less addicted to thieving. He turned grey at last and became as blind as a bat, and finally crawled about the house, enfeebled by old age, and wrapped in a flannel dressing-gown. Sorrows and joys are the lot of all; they chase each other across the sky of human life like cloud and sunshine on an April day. Captain Dunning and his descendants were not exempt from the pains, and toils, and griefs of life, but they met them in the right spirit, and diffused so sweet an influence around their dwelling that the neighbours used to say--and say truly--of the family at the Red Eric, that they were always good-humoured and happy--as happy as the day was long. THE END. 
37732	----	[Frontispiece: Frank Osborne's alarm on discovering a bow and quiver suspended in the forest] [Illustration: Title page] THE EMIGRANT'S LOST SON: OR, LIFE ALONE IN THE FOREST. EDITED BY GEORGE HENRY WALL. _NEW EDITION._ _Illustrated by Corbould_ LONDON: ROUTLEDGE, WARNE, AND ROUTLEDGE, FARRINGDON STREET. NEW YORK: 56, WALKER STREET. 1860. [_The Author of this Work reserves to himself the right of Translating._] LONDON; SAVILL AND EDWARDS, PRINTERS, CHANDOS STREET, COVENT GARDEN. CONTENTS. INTRODUCTION BY THE EDITOR CHAPTER I. CAUSE OF LEAVING ENGLAND, AND ARRIVAL AT THE FOREST CHAPTER II. I AM LOST IN THE FOREST--MY SITUATION AND FEELINGS DESCRIBED CHAPTER III. I BUILD MYSELF A HUT--THE SCENERY THROUGHOUT A DAY IN THE FOREST DESCRIBED CHAPTER IV. AN ADVENTURE WITH A BEAR--AN EXTRAORDINARY ECHO--I AM ATTACKED WITH A FEVER, AND SUBSEQUENTLY DRIVEN FROM MY HUT CHAPTER V. I WITNESS A GRAND CONVULSION OF NATURE, IN WHICH I HAVE A WONDERFUL ESCAPE--AM RESCUED IN THE LAST EXTREMITY, AND ADMITTED INTO A TRIBE OF INDIANS CHAPTER VI. FURTHER ACCOUNT OF THE INDIANS--I ARRIVE AT MY FATHER'S FARM INTRODUCTION BY THE EDITOR That no person in this state of existence may be tempted to assert his own independence, the affairs of life are so ordered that much of the happiness enjoyed by mankind depends upon their communion with each other. Human affections, if they were permitted to act freely, as they spontaneously arise in the breast of mankind, are designed to bind all the human race in one bond of brotherhood. Our own parents and near relatives first call these affections into active exercise. Their care and attention to our welfare, the interest they take in preserving us in a state of safety and health, and in teaching us also the duties we owe both to our Creator and fellow-creatures, tend to give the first impetus to the germs of our affections; and it is by the exercise of these very affections that we derive a continual source of happiness, which becomes hereafter the chief means by which the refinement of the senses may be effected. Thus it is, that when death, or other causes, deprive us of our immediate parental guidance, the affections as naturally seek for new objects, on which to exert their influence, as the operations of any other well recognised principles proceed in the works of nature. The author and hero of the following narrative, was called upon to experience the sudden deprivation of not only his parents, but of all his dearest friends; and that at an age when the heart first expands to the relations of our existence, and is most sensitive to the emotions of grief; when, unexpectedly and unprepared, it is cut off from all sympathy or communication with human kind. At the age of thirteen he was lost in an almost boundless Guiana forest, where he remained for several years, dependent solely upon his own resources, mental and physical--that is, on the one hand, to bear the mind up against the shock it received in being thrown suddenly into solitude; and, on the other, to provide for his daily wants. That man never was intended to live in what is denominated "a state of nature," is manifest by his long infancy and the tardy development of his mental powers. No animal is so long after its birth before it can support the body on its legs as man; in none is the period of complete adult stature so long protracted. When born into the world he is entirely defenceless, his great distinctions from other animals are reason and speech: these, however, are germs which are not developed of themselves, but are brought to maturity by extraneous assistance, cultivation, and education; hence we must infer that man was intended for social union, and that his imaginary state of nature, which some writers have spoken of, never has existed. Man, however, in his nature, is limited in no respect; being fitted for every kind of life, every climate, and every variety of food. The Deity has given him the whole earth for his abode, and the produce thereof for his nourishment. With the advantages, however, of an early moral and religious education, together with an excellent constitution, our juvenile exile from man was enabled, under the direction of a watchful Providence, to preserve his life, protect his mind against despondency, and procure a subsistence in the midst of dangers. The difficulties he encountered, the manner in which he overcame them, and the scenes which were brought under his view in the extended field of observation into which he was thrown, it is the object of the following narrative to lay before the reader. To those whose knowledge extends not beyond the world of man to the boundless fields of nature, it may appear that such a life must have been one of monotonous listlessness, from which few materials could be gathered to impart knowledge or interest to the general reader. Our hero, however, found employment for the mind in every moment of his waking hours, and was furnished with objects for study in the forest, that might engage the longest period of life allotted to man to catalogue or enumerate. Happily for the exile, his mind was formed to seek for knowledge in the only sources open to man for the full development of the intellectual powers; namely, observation and reflection. Denied the aid of books, in the far woods that "steeped in their moonbeams lie," he called upon his Maker, and the echo of the floor of the forest recognised his presence. Acquiring confidence from this assurance, and relying on Providence for protection, he converted the scenes around him into a school of study, and realized in the woods a life of activity instead of one of solitude. He soon discovered, when left to draw deductions from his own experience in the scenes of Nature, that there is nothing but what is beautiful, nothing unworthy of admiration. "The disregard," he says, "which by many is paid to her productions, reflects no honour on those who evince it, and little credit on a system of education that does not at once lead its pupils to the grand fountain of all knowledge. While the majority," he adds, "of my youthful contemporaries were engaged in committing to memory a vocabulary of words, I was busily engaged in studying the things themselves." While others were spending their time in acquiring a knowledge of the customs and forms of artificial society, our exile had the great book of nature widely spread open before him, Throughout that period of life which is usually devoted, by the majority of individuals, to study the purposes of social life, he was conversing only with the trees; or with the birds, and insects, and other tribes, of the animal kingdom, all the works of God, and to which his attachment was ardent and sincere. Now that he is again in the society of his fellow-men, the recollections of his sylvan probation are as vividly depicted on his mind as at the moment when he first received the impressions. Trees which supplied him with food, or shelter from the heat of the sun or the rains of the climate, are still dear to his recollection, and he often reverts to them with feelings of gratitude and respect, from which he would not, if he could, estrange the affections of his heart. There is no music so sweet to his ear as the breezes that animated the lofty cloud-aspiring monarchs of the forest, with which he claims a peculiar acquaintance, or the murmuring of the brook, where he was wont to slake his thirst; no concert to his sense of sound so grateful as the wild notes of the birds that chanted, morning and evening, their Maker's praise, as he offered up his own prayers of gratitude for the prolongation of his existence, or the hummings of the myriads of insects, that every hour, in his woodland rovings, arrested his attention. It was while listening to these voices of the Creator that his heart was first touched with feelings of admiration and wonder at the multifarious and exquisitely organized beings that everywhere, whether in tranquil meditation or in active search of his food, met his sight. He saw nature everywhere teeming with life, and proclaiming in language intelligible to every one the presence of an All-directing Power. It was in the forest, too, in the midst of the wonders of the creation, that the lost youth first aspired to lift up his thoughts to heaven, and mentally exclaim--"These are thy works, oh God!" It was also in the lonely wilderness he first cherished the hope, in the language of the Indian, that the Great Spirit had provided for him a higher state of happiness; and then it was he offered up a prayer, that this hope might, in his Maker's own time, be realized. It was also in the wilderness, communing with his own thoughts, that he first received an assurance that he possessed a soul to be saved, and became imbued with a firm conviction that the wise Creator, in his infinite beneficence, designed the happiness of his creatures, and that nothing can deprive the human race of his blessings but a connexion with sin. With an undivided mind, intent only on examining and admiring the works of creation, the youth, in his lonely wayfaring, everywhere found the presence of his Maker. At the earliest moment of incipient vegetation, he was busy watching the indications of bursting nature preparing to re-robe the trees; and in a prospective vista he beheld the joyous movements of the various tribes of birds and insects providing for the wants of themselves and their progeny. Not less busily was his mind engaged when these labours actually commenced, in noting the construction of their habitations, and in admiring the wonderful ingenuity each displayed in providing for its own peculiar wants and safety. Thus engaged in almost continual observation, he was enabled to trace the manner in which numbers of the feathered and insect tribes worked out the purposes of their existence. As the multifarious branches of the trees of the forest expanded themselves into fulness of leaf, he saw nations after nations of living things on the move to claim his attention, all pouring forth to seize on their share of the abundance of nature. As each revolving season hastened the decay of or imparted new vigour to the monarchs of the forest, the exile from man had an opportunity, abstracted as he was from the busy affairs of human life, to distinguish the various characteristics of the tribes of insects that took possession of the trees, differing from those which, apparently innoxiously, fed on their fulness of vegetable youthfulness, and the insects that came to prey only on the trunk or branches of those that age or disease had brought to decay. He saw the leaves of the forest come into life, witnessed their gradual expansion into verdant beauty; he was there, likewise, at their decline and fall--recurring symbols of the succession of the races of mankind,--and when, the biting north winds denuded of their leaves many of these mighty monarchs of the forest, he collected them to form his woodland bed. No season passed without adding to his store of information in reference to the works of nature, which knowledge, as we have already said, it is the design of this work to impart to others. It is the natural history of the forest, or so much of it as has been seen by one individual during a period of six years' sojourn in its solitude. From what has been stated, the reader will not expect to find any classified arrangement of subjects in this work; things are spoken of as they were seen, either in the stillness of the shade at one time, or in the raging of the storm at another. Forest trees, in general, are described; those which may afford food to man are more frequently mentioned. Of quadrupeds, birds of the air, and insects, those that most excited his attention are more especially noticed. Those whose ferocity or whose shyness rendered it hazardous or difficult to approach them, are less spoken of. The details of the author's history, in reference to his probation in the wilds of nature, he has endeavoured to relate in a most familiar manner, and in the simplest language; and when describing scenes and events, faithfully to impart the impressions made on his own mind as they occurred. Reasoning from the convictions arising from his experience,--that is, the effects wrought upon his own mind--he thinks that the study of natural objects, used as a means for the improvement of the religious and moral character of mankind, has been much overlooked by the philanthropist, and neglected by those who are sincere in their desire to improve their own species. When the author was restored to society, nothing more excited his surprise than the total absence of a system of education which should at once direct the mind of youth to the fountain of all knowledge; and, in consequence, to persons he met with who took any lively interest in the study of natural objects, he remarked, "Your system of education appears more designed to exercise the mere verbal memory, than to excite observation or reflection;" adding, "that an acquaintance with the works of the Deity, as they are seen remote from the haunts of men, not only expands and elevates the thought, but spiritualises the soul." The contemplation of nature's works, while it subdues the pride of man, harmonizes the feelings of social life, and in a peculiar manner prepares the mind for the reception of revealed truths. It is only necessary to add that, the education of the "Emigrant's Son," previously to his exclusion from the world of man, had not in any way been of a peculiarly religious tendency; nor had he evinced any predilection for discussing religious topics. Yet, when he was brought to contemplate the works of the Deity on an extended scale, he everywhere found the indications of the presence of a superior and all-wise Creator in those scenes. It is therefore natural that he should feel a desire that others should seek and find Him at the same pure fountain of knowledge. "The voice of my beloved; behold he cometh leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills." (Solomon, ii. 9.) True it is, that the student who once enters the portals of natural history, seldom thinks of returning. Strolling from object to object, his appetite is never satiated. St. Pierre aptly remarked, that "nature invites to the cultivation of herself." Should the perusal of the following page direct the mind of the youthful reader to the study of nature, the object of publishing this narrative will have been attained. G. H. W. HARRINGTON COTTAGE, BROMPTON THE EMIGRANT'S LOST SON. CHAPTER I. CAUSE OF LEAVING ENGLAND AND ARRIVAL AT THE FOREST. "On the bosom, lone and still, Of nature east, I early sought to stroll Through wood and wild, o'er forest, rook, and hill, Companionless; without a wish or goal, Save to discover every shape and voice Of living thing that there did fearlessly rejoice." As it is my object to lay before my readers only that portion of my life which was passed in the wilds of nature, it will be unnecessary for me to detain them with a lengthened account of the genealogy of my family. My father occupied a small farm in the west of England, situate near a peaceful village, the curate of which superintended the education of myself and some fourteen or fifteen of the neighbouring youths. I was between ten and eleven years of age, when a stranger arrived at our house, informing the family that, in consequence of the death of my father's elder brother, he, together with two surviving brothers, had jointly become the proprietors of a tract of land situate in the south-western part of Guiana. It subsequently appeared that my deceased uncle had speculated in the purchase of the land in question, intending to have invited his three brothers to join him in the cultivation of it. Death frustrated these intentions, the land became the joint property of the survivors, and after using every effort to dispose of it in this country, being unsuccessful in meeting with a purchaser, the three brothers came to the resolution of going out, together with their families, and sharing their newly-acquired property. [Sidenote: First leaving home] When the order was finally given to prepare for the voyage, it operated on my mind almost as a penal sentence; expatriation presented itself to my imagination as the climax of all evils. It now suddenly occurred to me that I had a thousand local attachments, all of which were to be broken asunder; my imagination passing in review a painful parting with my schoolfellows and other intimates; when all the early and recent scenes of my short career poured in on the memory, and seemed to bind me to the immediate locality of my existence and its environs. I then discovered that I had a real attachment for my teacher, the good pastor of a small flock; indeed, every person known to me, I thought had, in some way, been peculiarly kind, and a torrent of gratitude overflowed the heart; while the idea of quitting the scenes of my childhood, and all I then knew of the world, presented itself as the annihilation of every object from which I had hitherto derived pleasure. The young heart is generally thought to bound with joyousness at the prospect of a change of scene, but it was otherwise with me: the world, in the map of my microcosm, excepting the circumscribed view I had taken of it, was an entire desert, where there was no one to love or be loved. In this state of mind the agitation of my feelings nearly choked me, till I sought the favourite arm of a tree in the orchard, where, unobserved, I found relief in a flood of tears. Still oppressed, as the evening advanced I crept to bed without speaking to any one,--not even to my sister, whose buoyant joyfulness at the time excited my surprise. I spent the night in a state of half-dreamy stupor, being neither asleep nor awake; whilst the imagination was engaged in endeavouring to contrast the retrospection of the past with the prospects of the future. Every act of kindness which had been bestowed upon me, stood out in strong relief in my memory, as a vista of other days, and into which I had not previously been permitted to look; whilst the little village-world was presented to my view as a bright speck in creation--an oasis in a desert, all around which was a mass of confusion and darkness. The placid countenance of the curate, monarch of his locality, with all the scholastic paraphernalia, were brought vividly under review; the form on which I was wont to sit, with every cut I had made on the well-marked desk with my knife--an instrument with which boys early prove themselves tool-loving animals--were all objects of endearment to me. My fancy then roamed into the little churchyard, where I took a view of each mouldering heap, with the tombstones at the head and foot, every epitaph on which I had committed to memory. I then stood under the brave old Hercules, as we designated an oak tree where four of us had met most days to proceed together to school. Here I distinctly noted--such is the power of memory when the feelings are excited--each abrupt rising of its rugged roots, and marked the boundary of its shadows at different hours of the day, as described by its broad, out-spreading limbs on the greensward. I wandered to the copse, entered by a well-defined gap at the angular point; noted each spot where I had taken eggs or young ones from birds that had been incautious enough to attract my attention; paused to take a last look at the hazel from which I had gathered the largest cob-nut; lingering at every step, and sighing as I passed each object of remembrance. The following morning, sleepless and weary, I arose with the sun, and collected all my little stock of property--bows and arrows, fishing-tackle, bats, balls, and other juvenile valuables; these I labelled as presents to my intimates. My heart then knew how highly it was susceptible of friendship; it had yet to learn how readily, after the lapse of a few years, such attachments are forgotten. The desire in after life to meet with an old schoolfellow is seldom prompted by a higher motive than a curiosity to learn his success in the world. It is probable that my parents had associations and connexions from which they were about to separate, and deeper feelings of regret to struggle with, than myself, when parting from attached friends. It is fresh in my memory that our calls were very numerous, and that many reasons were adduced to dissuade my father from emigration. The Sunday previously to our departure, the curate, from the pulpit, mentioned the intention of the families to emigrate, and offered up a prayer for the realization of their prospects of success. I shall ever remember the day I left the kind preceptor of my youth and the companions of my boyish days. My father had sent a chaise to fetch me and my valuable stock of personal property a day before our final departure. I think I see now the mild old curate shaking my hand and giving me his blessing and friendly advice, while around the gate of the old house were assembled my school companions, to take a last sight of me before I took my leave of home and of them. [Sidenote: Voyage to Demerara] Our journey to the coast, and voyage to Demerara, a _ci-devant_ Dutch settlement, was unattended by any circumstance of peculiar interest. I therefore take up the narrative from the period of our landing. My father was purely a business man, never permitting pleasure or curiosity to divert him from his pursuits. Immediately, therefore, on our arrival at Demerara, preparations were made for us to proceed on towards our destination, regarding the situation and name of which I had not up to that time taken any interest, I had, however, heard that we had to travel some hundreds of miles over a country where there were no roads, as in England. I also remember a long discussion between my father and my two uncles, whether we should travel with a waggon or purchase horses and mules to carry our luggage and relieve the females when fatigued. As our course was through an extensive wooded country, where carriages could not conveniently pass, the latter mode of travelling was ultimately adopted. Our party consisted of nine persons, namely, my father, mother, sister, and self; one uncle, with a grown-up son (his father being a widower); the other uncle, his wife, and son (a youth three years older than myself). My father provided himself with a horse and mule; the latter to carry our personal necessaries, and the former to alternately relieve my mother, and my sister, who was a healthy girl of sixteen years of age, when either was fatigued with walking. One other horse was purchased for the use of my aunt and the party in general. We were provided with two painted cloths, to be used as a covering when we should halt for rest, and no better accommodation could be obtained. I remember my father making a pen-and-ink sketch of the route, marking down, with the assistance of a traveller, the stages we were daily to accomplish. [Sidenote: Crossing the savanna] Thus prepared and equipped, as all of us were in excellent health and spirits, we commenced our journey over the plantations of the settlers, proceeding onwards till we reached the extended savannas--open plains. Here the scene was altogether so new and striking, that it was with difficulty I could be prevented from running after every living thing that came under my view. At one moment I was lost in wonder at the multitudes of creeping creatures which, at every step, crossed my path, while the birds of the air in numbers, variety, and plumage, fixed me with astonishment. My excitement was so great that I actually screamed with delight; at another moment I ran from object to object with such eagerness, that, my mother became alarmed for my intellect, affirming that no one in their senses could sustain so much unnatural excitement. On the third day of our journey I began to be seriously fatigued, and my father placed me across the back of our mule. This, however, was a measure against which the animal at once entered his protest, by refusing to move forward the moment I threw my legs across him; his conduct seemed to imply that at starting a contract had been made with him to carry the baggage, and he would not consent to its infringement; and it would appear that the mere attempt to overburden him soured his temper for the whole journey; for a more obstinate or perverse mule was never crossed by man or boy. At length we entered into a compromise, by removing a portion of his baggage to one of our horses; and he then allowed me to ride in peace, as he proceeded sulkily along. He was, however, faithful to his second bargain, never evincing any more discontent. This third day of our journey was the longest we had yet had, and we were all of us anxiously looking for some habitation towards its close, where we might rest for the night. The sun soon promised to hide his golden beams behind the hills which formed the horizon, and we all showed signs of fatigue. We were much delighted when my father informed us that we were approaching the house of a settler, where he hoped to obtain shelter for the night. We proceeded up a steep declivity to the house in question, forming rather a picturesque party. My sister was first, mounted on a heavy dappled grey horse, with my father and mother by her side. I followed on my mule; while the remainder of the party were some fifty yards in the rear. As we halted before the house, my father informed us that, in all probability, this would be the last time we should find accommodation, even in the outhouse of a settler; and that in future we should have to resort to our painted cloths for shelter during the night. We all retired to rest, therefore, with a determination to lay in a good stock of sleep. Notwithstanding this determination, and the fatigue I had endured in the excessive heat of the day, the novelty of my new existence resisted every effort to close my eyes for rest; and I arose in the morning but very little refreshed. [Sidenote: The blessing of rain] During the first five days of our journey the intense heat of the sun, to which we were unseasoned, annoyed us all exceedingly; while the scorching earth so much blistered my feet that, on the sixth morning, I lingered behind, and divested myself of both stockings and shoes, hanging them upon the mule's baggage. In the school of experience nature is head master. The relief was almost instantaneous; and, during that day, I surprised my fellow-travellers with my pedestrian performances, which induced them all to follow my example. Early the same afternoon, the rain began to fall in torrents, or rather in sheets, previously to which, during our journey over the plains, the extreme dryness of the weather had occasioned one of those vegetable conflagrations so common in hot countries. Hitherto the scene had been arid, the land being hard to the feet, and painfully dry to the eye. The following morning, we had an opportunity of observing with what surprising rapidity nature, in these climates, clothes the earth. Our course was now on a wide-expanded green carpet, every where soft and cooling to the feet, and deliciously refreshing to the sight. Birds of every hue, gems of the air, glittered in our pathway; a vast number of the cormorant species were busy in gobbling up frogs, toads, and snakes; the eagle and the vulture, too, were soaring over our heads, looking out for the prey these regions afford them in such abundance. Every step we took frightened up flocks of the smaller feathered tribe, and brought to view myriads of other living things, such as slugs, snails, and insects of every variety. On the tenth day of our journey, we approached a country covered, as far as the eye could reach, with dense foliage, variegated with every known or imaginable hue, the groundwork of which was one wide-spreading mass of every shade of green. There were browns of all tints, yellow, orange, purple, and brilliant scarlets, so intermingled as to present one uninterrupted view of nature in glorious beauty, spreading over an undulating mass of waving forest-green, while, in appearance, reaching from the high heavens to the earth, into which the lower sweeps seemed to dip, conveying the idea of eternal spring, summer, and autumn, harmoniously blended into one. As we skirted the forest, the charming variety of the blossoms, and their shades of colour, presented a still more enlivened appearance--the tops of the trees being covered with bloom, some standing erect towards the light of the sun, others bending down, with a profusion of fruit and seed. Yet, even here, in this enchanting scene, was man admonished, and reminded of mortality: as we passed the margin of the wood, here and there was seen some former giant of the forest, whose head had been bared by time or the thunder blast, painfully, in the midst of nature's prodigal luxuriance, intimating that all things have their period of birth, maturity, and decay. [Sidenote: Meeting with natives] Penetrated with surprise and admiration at the scene, it was some time before we discovered that we were approaching a party of natives, who, it was evident, had been watching our movements. When they first attracted our notice, the sound of what we took for a village bell fell upon the ear; whereupon my father flattered himself that we were approaching a civilized settlement; while both my uncles were of opinion that a signal of alarm was given at our approach, and, in consequence, prepared for defence. The bell, however, sounded only at intervals of four or five minutes; and as there was no increase of numbers in consequence, we at once went forth to meet the natives. They consisted of a party of six, besides an old negro, who seemed to be the patriarch of his race. To our surprise and delight, he spoke English remarkably well, as did also a young man who appeared to be his son. Probably, they were runaway slaves. They proved, however, to be friendly disposed; and when we spoke of the bell, and the negro had explained the nature of our enquiry, they all broke out into a most immoderate fit of laughter. The negro, almost convulsed, said, "White bird, ding dong--ding, dong! a great way off; for white man here, white bird, ding, dong--ding, dong!" The bird that sends forth this peculiar sound is named the campanero, and is snow white; it may be heard at three miles' distance; and during my sojourn subsequently in the wilds of nature, it was the only sound that daily recalled to my recollection the tones of my native village church bell. As we were all attention to the negro, who was very lively and garrulous, a flock of birds passed over our heads, emitting sounds that might be mistaken for those of a trumpet; when the old man pointed up, and laughingly said--"Red-coats, red-coats!" meaning to ask, ironically, if we took the birds for soldiers? These birds are properly called Waracaba, and are frequently rendered domestic, when they exhibit the attachment of a dog to their master, following him in the same spirit of fidelity; their spirit, also, appears to exceed that of the game cock--although unarmed with spurs for defence, they will fly at a dog; and, in a domestic state, seldom fail to browbeat and lord it over the dunghill cocks living in the same yard. While my father was consulting with the negro regarding our bivouac for the night, the latter suddenly seized his foot, exclaiming, "_Chegoe_ in toe," then forcing him to the ground, and taking from his pocket a knife, proceeded to extract one of those formidable insects, which had become embedded in the skin of the foot. This insect, had it been allowed to remain, would have, no doubt, produced inflammation, from its bite, and, in all probability, caused my father lameness for some weeks. The negroes treated us with the greatest possible kindness and respect; and the old man, who appeared the orator of his party, insisted upon our sharing their hospitality, by partaking of their evening meal, which we readily accepted, producing, at the same time, our own provisions; and such an interchange of delicacies took place, that I am sure it would puzzle me now to recollect or enumerate them. I know it was the cause of some considerable share of merriment among us all. Their food, if I remember rightly, appeared to me to consist more of vegetables and fruit than ours, and was of a simpler nature. I fancy if some of our worthy civic authorities had been present as partakers of this repast, they would have been more surprised at the viands than delighted. But man is of a ductile nature--a creature of habit, and may almost habituate himself to anything. In civilized cities, where thousands are taxing their energies in the pursuit of wealth and position in society, an artificial state of existence is the consequence; and the primitive fare of our forefathers is superseded by something of a more stimulating nature. I have seen, in my experience in forest life, how little man can subsist upon, and how healthy and strong he may continue in a simple state of existence. Civilization brings with it a host of imaginary and fictitious wants. [Sidenote: The repast with the negroes] We accepted the offer of our newly-made friends to share with them their small huts for the night, and they being plentifully provided with various skins of animals, a more agreeable resting-place could hardly be desired. The old negro, without being obtrusively inquisitive, was anxious to know our object in crossing the country; and my father informed him of our route, and produced the rough chart he had made upon our first starting upon the expedition. A long consultation was the result, and a doubtful shake of the head was given by the old man as to the possibility of our accomplishing the task; at the same time he gave an incredulous look at my mother and sister, who, he seemed to consider, would hardly be able to endure the journey and the hardships attending it. To say the truth, my mother looked but very weak, and I remember being struck myself with her appearance. My sister was of such a buoyant temperament, that her joyous spirit would carry her through almost any temporary difficulties; but still we were all considerably jaded. And I remember I thought the rude habitation of our entertainers a most delightful place of refuge, compared to being obliged to bivouac in the woods; and, indeed, I dreaded leaving the following morning. I believe we were all of us impressed with the same idea. When we at first met with them, I was overcome with surprise, and was afraid that some calamity was about to befal us. By degrees, however, the feeling wore off, and by that strong and undefined species of discernment which most possess in discovering those kindly disposed towards us, I became on most familiar terms with our friends. The young man, whose name was Rangal, I discovered, was the only son of the elder negro. He was very solicitous in his attentions to me, and his peculiar manners considerably amused me during our evening's sojourn. [Sidenote: More negroes] Upon our retiring to rest, the two negroes, father and son, took up their station in the apartment we had at first entered; this they did to keep watch that no one should harm us; not that there was any absolute necessity for their so doing, but it was an attention meant to impress us with confidence as to our safety. Early the following morning, after a refreshing and undisturbed sleep, I accompanied Rangal to take a survey of the surrounding country, calling at a neighbouring habitation where the remaining portion of the negroes had located. They conversed with my guide a great deal, two or three speaking at the same time; but it was in a dialect entirely new to me, and beyond my comprehension. They evidently, by their gestures, referred to us; but in what way, I was at a loss to understand. There were also a female and three children, the latter varying from seven to eleven years old. They looked at me in perfect amazement, and the three children retired, whispering, to a corner at the darkest part of the room; but I could see by the whites of their eyes in the gloom, that their gaze was rivetted upon me, in which a feeling of curiosity was mingled with dread. For myself, I was only struck with their comical appearance, and fairly laughed outright, in which I was joined by the negroes, one of whom, I supposed their father, brought them forward and introduced them in due form. Upon returning to our habitation of the previous night, we found our party taking their morning's repast; and I learned that the old negro had insisted upon accompanying us, with his son Rangal, on our journey during the day. He had also arranged where we should halt for the following night which was at the habitation of a friend of his, situate many miles on our road. [Sidenote: The forest] All being got in readiness, we again commenced our pilgrimage. There had been a heavy fall of rain in the night, and it was comparatively cool and refreshing to what it had been, but still the heat was intense to us. We, however, proceeded on our journey with tolerable spirits. My father and uncle shot several birds in the early part of the day, which afforded us an excellent repast. We shortly arrived at a thick and apparently impenetrable forest. Through this we had to travel before reaching our destination for the night. Once having fairly entered its precincts, there appeared to my mind an impossibility of ever again emancipating ourselves from it. The sun, which had been so scorching to our aching sight, was now no longer visible, save here and there, where a few rays would find a passage through the otherwise impenetrably dense foliage, to remind us of the world beyond our sight. The luxuriance of the foliage, the variety of tropical plants which in the fecundity of nature spring up in a few hours--so rapid is their growth in these climates,--the busy hum of myriads of insects, the reptiles, and occasionally the howling of the fiercer animals of prey, can hardly be appreciated by description. Ever and anon we paused, as a rustling of the foliage would give notice of the passage of some fierce animal, who was, as he stole along, unconscious of the presence of man in his domains. We proceeded most watchfully on our way, my father and uncle with guns across their shoulders, ready for immediate service, if required; so, what with our number, and the caution used, we felt ourselves tolerably secure; the more so, as it is a remarkable fact that no species of animal, however fierce, is ever very willing to attack man in open combat, without provocation. Waterton, the celebrated naturalist, who has travelled through the woods in search of animals for scientific purposes, says, speaking on this subject, "Time and experience has convinced me that there is not much danger in roving amongst snakes and wild beasts, provided you have self-command. You must never approach them abruptly; if so, you are sure to pay for your rashness, because the idea of self-defence is predominant in every animal; and thus the snake, to defend himself from what he considers an attack upon him, makes the intruder feel the deadly effect of his poisonous fangs. The jaguar flies at you, and knocks you senseless with a stroke of his paw; whereas, if you had not come upon him too suddenly, it is ten to one but that he had retired, in lieu of disputing the path with you." Secure, however, as we might feel ourselves, it was a matter of surprise to us how the two negroes would fare upon their return, without our party. They would, however, in spite of every persuasion to the contrary, persist in accompanying us, and we were fain to let them have their own way. Presently an incident occurred which made us see the necessity of caution. As I was walking by the side of my uncle Henry, I discerned, glaring from a neighbouring clump of foliage, two fierce-looking eyes. I impulsively caught my uncle by the arm, and pointed in breathless terror to the spot. He paused, and raising his gun, would have fired, had not my father precipitately intervened, and motioned him to be passive. "Do not venture to fire," he whispered, "till there is a greater necessity." At the same time he raised his gun, and both kept guard till the other members of our party passed the point where danger was to be feared. The animal did not move, but appeared ready to spring forth; which had it done, the pieces must then have been discharged. When we had got some little distance from the object of our dread, my father and uncle gradually retreated, with their faces and guns directed towards the animal, until they had got sufficiently out of danger; and we had the satisfaction of observing the animal bound off in another direction. It appeared to be a tolerably large-sized puma, as well as we could discern. This little incident made us doubly cautious, and all were loud in praising the presence of mind evinced by my father; for had my uncle fired so incautiously, it is very improbable that he would have wounded the animal mortally, but it might have incited him to a desperate attack upon us. [Sidenote: The negro's daughter] After one or two false alarms, we arrived again in the open country. The darkness of the forest had led us to believe that the day was on the decline; but on emerging into the plain we were greeted again with the rays of the sun. We had still, however, some distance to journey before we arrived at our proposed destination, and my mother, who appeared wearied, was again seated on the back of one of the mules. But even this mode of conveyance was fatiguing to one unaccustomed to such long journeys, in a country so different to our own. The negroes were the most fresh of the party; indeed, heat, and long hours of fatigue or anxiety, seemed to have no effect upon them, for they retained under these trials their good temper and loquacity. The elder of the two seemed, as indeed he always had been, to be of a reflective temperament; and as he was walking by the side of my father, somewhat ahead of the rest, he turned round, and gazing at my sister, said, "Make me think of de ole day--de ole day." "How so?" said my father. "Had a little girl once myself. Long ago, now! long ago!" And he again lapsed into silence, ruminating, in rather an abstracted melancholy mood, for some minutes. "You lost her, then, did you?" said my father. The old man shook his head sorrowfully, and placing his hand upon my father's shoulder, confidentially, exclaimed, "De white man!" He then promised to tell us the history of the affair before leaving. Arriving shortly at the point he had originally proposed when we commenced our journey in the morning, we discerned two or three habitations, even more rude than those we had left, and our guides expressed much surprise and chagrin at finding them uninhabited. We, however, determined upon taking possession of them for the night, and at once proceeded to make the necessary preparations for our stay. [Sidenote: The story of the negro] Agreeably to his promise, the old negro took an opportunity of relating his history. Our first surmise proved to be correct; he was indeed a runaway slave. Some years previously he and his family were sold to a new owner, who proved to be a cruel and unfeeling taskmaster, the very opposite in character to the former owner, who was a kind-hearted, mild disposed man. His wife was so affected by the change and hard usage, that she sunk into a desponding state, and eventually died, leaving him with a son and daughter. The cruel treatment evinced by their overseer towards the latter, a little girl then of ten years old, was a constant source of trouble and misery to the father, and eventually led to an open revolt. One day, when the brutality of this man was beyond all endurance, the father of the girl, in a fit of rage and disgust, struck his superior to the earth. Conscious of what he had done, and the fearful penalty attached to it, he fled frantically from the spot, whither he knew not. His feelings had been wound up to such a state of excitement, that he was scarcely conscious of what he was about; but he had soon left the scene of his suffering many miles distant. His son, it appeared, who was at a remote part of the plantation, hearing of the affair, fled after his father, and they eventually, after enduring numberless hardships, both succeeded in escaping; and notwithstanding the large rewards offered for their capture, they were never betrayed. His daughter he had learned nothing of for many years. He had endeavoured to rescue her soon after his escape from the hands of her tormentor, but did not succeed. Afterwards he learnt that she had left the plantation, and had been passed into the hands of a new master at another remote part of the country. She was dangerously ill at that time, and was not expected to recover. The poor old negro grew very mournful as he concluded his narrative. He had not heard of his daughter for so long a period that he seemed to think it improbable he should ever behold her again. His story, I remember, called forth a long discussion upon the horrors of slavery, the truth of which is now happily made sufficiently manifest, and so universally acknowledged, that it hardly needs repetition here. On the following morning we parted with our two negro guides of the previous day, but it was with the greatest unwillingness that they could be persuaded to return to their home; eventually, however, we took leave of them after presenting them two or three remembrances for their kindness. We now journeyed on much the same as before, without any incident occurring worthy of notice, when, on the following day, we met with two English gentlemen, both naturalists, on their way to the forest, to collect specimens for the advancement of scientific knowledge. Their party comprised six, namely, themselves, two English attendants, and two negroes, whom they had purchased, with a promise of emancipation if they conducted themselves to their masters' satisfaction. These gentlemen were much delighted to meet with us, and agreed to journey our road, for the sake of company. I was much pleased with their society. I was soon made sensible of the advantages of a system in studying the works of nature. My senses had before been quite captivated and gratified with the general aspect of the scenes through which we had passed; but now I was taught to examine objects more closely and in detail; to compare, arrange, and, above all, to study the uses and purposes of vegetable and animal constituents, with their mechanical construction, tracing, in some measure, the designs of the Creator in all his works. I was now awakened to an intellectual gratification exceeding that of the mere senses. I learned how to collect and store up knowledge in the memory, which elevated my notions of the human species and considerably augmented my self-respect. The more I found opportunities to bring the intellect into play, the more apparent became the advantages which the civilized and cultivated man possessed over the mere savage or uninformed; and, in consequence, my delight in receiving instruction was unbounded. Unlike myself, however, the gentlemen whom we accompanied did not appear to me to enjoy or appreciate my natural enthusiasm for varied scenery. They carried on their researches with surprising ardour; and when in pursuit of an abstract or particular object, their attention was wholly absorbed; nor were they in any way sparing of the lives of animals, birds, or insects, when selecting their specimens from the abundance before them. Their recklessness, too, in destroying what they considered obnoxious animals, somewhat surprised me, so much so as to induce me to enquire what caused them to have antipathies, like unto children and some females, especially against spiders, beetles, &c. The only answer I received was, "We destroy only such things as are of no use to us, and those which come in our way when in search of our object." They soon, however, explained to me that the reason of their shooting such a number of birds was that they were in want of all the varieties, and could not always distinguish, until they had them in hand, whether they had such a one amongst their collection. To watch the young of animals, whether those species born with sight or closed eyes, and note their progress towards perfection, and the celerity with which some of them, birds especially, will remove themselves, even while unfledged, from danger to security, is to see God watching over all his creatures. To be near when the cry of danger is started in the wood, and hear the whole flock, though composed of different kinds of birds, each in their own peculiar note, cry "Hush!" to their young ones before they leave the nest,--to ascertain the cause, and then to have the satisfaction of removing that cause of danger,--is to be an agent of the Deity in the work of benevolence. "All are agents," said one of the gentlemen, "in carrying out the benevolent purposes of the Deity. Direct your mind towards the various provisions which nature has devised for the dispersion, of the seeds of plants, and introducing them, into proper situations for germination. Every class of beings," he continued, "is useful as a means to promote the spread of seeds: man, beasts, birds, reptiles, and probably even fish, by consuming, cause the propagation of the _algæ_ in the depths of the ocean; and the multiplied contrivances of hooks, awns, wings, &c., with the elastic and hygrometric power with which seeds are furnished, manifest what infinite provision has been made for the dispersion of seeds, and successive productions of nature." It was thus that they would tutor me, and relieve the tedium of the day, by instilling into my youthful mind the first rudiments of a knowledge respecting the works of the Deity, and the uses to which they were applied; and I became aware of the wonders an all-bounteous Providence has in store for an enquiring mind. [Sidenote: The rattlesnake] But I now approach a period which proved an epoch in my existence. It was towards the evening of a very long and fatiguing day's journey, perhaps the most wearisome we had yet had, that we halted to refresh ourselves, and consult where we should bivouac for the night. We were all jaded, and scarcely knew how to proceed any further. My sister was reclining on a bank, and had, unobserved by us, fallen fast asleep, fairly overcome with the fatigues of the day. Her head was resting on a small package of tightly compressed woollen cloths. We had not noticed her for some minutes, when one of the gentlemen who accompanied us was the first to observe her dangerous situation. It was fortunate he did so. Taking my father by the arm, and leading him quietly away from the party, he directed his attention to my sister. My father stood almost petrified with fear and horror, on observing a large rattlesnake moving from side to side on my sister's chest. Upon the impulse of the moment, he was incautiously about to rush to her rescue; but was detained by his companion. "I do not think it means any mischief," he whispered. "Make no noise, and I fancy it will merely cross your child's body, and go away." In this, however, he was mistaken, for on reaching my sister's left shoulder the serpent deliberately coiled itself up; and although it made no immediate attack, it did not appear at all likely to leave the side of the sleeper. "Leave it to me," said my father's companion, "to rescue the poor girl from her terrible position. I know best the habits of these creatures, and how to treat them. Make no noise, on your life, or your child may be lost; but follow me." My father obeyed; and our friend then determined that two of us should advance in front, to divert the attention of the snake, while he should noiselessly steal behind my sister, and, with a long stick, remove the reptile from her body. The snake, on observing the approach of the two intruders in front of him, instantly raised its head, and darted out its forked tongue, at the same time shaking its rattles,--all indications of anger. [Sidenote: Anxiety] Every one of our party was in a state of fearful suspense and agitation for the fate of my poor sister; who lay like a beautiful statue, sleeping the calm sleep of innocence, unconscious of her danger. Our friend advanced stealthily behind, with a stick of seven feet long he had procured for the purpose. In an instant, almost before we had time to observe it, he succeeded in cautiously inserting one end of the stick under one of the reptile's coils, and flung the creature some yards from my sister's body. A wild scream of joy was the first indication my sister received of her danger and providential escape. In the meantime, her preserver pursued the snake, and killed it. It was three feet seven inches long, and eleven years old; the age, our friend said, was always to be ascertained by the number of rattles. He also informed us that there is no danger attending the destruction of the rattlesnake, provided a person has a long pliant stick, and does not approach nearer than the reptile's length; for they cannot spring beyond it, and seldom act but upon the defensive. We discovered, on searching about, a nest of these snakes near to where my sister had been lying; and, after this incident, were a little more cautious in taking our way along. We could not shake off the alarm that it had occasioned; and it was with anxious thoughts and heavy hearts that we again proceeded to seek repose from the day's troubles and fatigue. CHAPTER II. I AM LOST IN THE FOREST--MY SITUATION AND FEELINGS DESCRIBED. "Existence may be borne, and the deep root Of life and sufferance make its firm abode In bare and desolate bosoms: mute The camel labours with the heaviest load, And the wolf dies in silence. Not bestow'd In vain should such examples be; if they-- Things of ignoble or of savage mood-- Endure and shrink not, we of nobler clay May temper it to bear; it is but for a day." In arranging our watch for the night every precaution was taken to guard against intrusion; then most of the party composed themselves for sleep; indeed, the previous day had been one of peculiar fatigue and disappointment--opiates much less injurious than those issued from a druggist's shop. I alone, and for the first time, became restless after the approach of night--usually having fallen asleep as soon as I had eaten my supper,--and became insensible to the busy hum of night, which in tropical countries is very noisy. I lay down with the adventure of the snake on my mind, my reflections on which kept me awake till the nocturnal insects of the wood were all in full chorus, and the reptiles began to move. Up to this hour I had no idea--so soundly had I hitherto slept--that the night was as rife with sounds and animated nature as the day; differing not in their variety but only in their peculiar kinds. [Sidenote: Fireflies] As I have in another place, under the head of a natural day in the forest, spoken of this hour, it will be unnecessary for me to describe it in this place; suffice it to say, that my ear being once engaged in attending to the succession of sounds which addressed it, sleep, for the night, became hopeless. About midnight I suddenly sprang to nay feet with the surprise of being surrounded, as I thought, with flakes of fire, or rather with similar lights to those emitted by a jet of gas in the centre of glass drops. Finding myself uninjured in the midst of myriads of these dancing lights, I moved forward, as they moved, to examine the phenomenon. They were fireflies, whose light would have enabled me to see the hour by a watch. They suddenly, however, left me in darkness, and that as rapidly as if they had really been gas-lights extinguished by the turning of the stop-cock. Pausing for some minutes, and censuring my own conduct for having moved from the spot of our bivouac, my attention was again attracted by sounds of something in pain, close to my feet; it was evidently a bird, and I stooped with a view of taking it up, when the note proceeded from my right, and then from the left, "Crek-crek-crek!" Whether I was ambitious to capture the bird, or whether I was moved by feelings of compassion I know not, I acted on the impulse, and continued to turn from side to side till I had advanced some distance in the underwood in a zig-zag direction. At length, being vexed at my disappointment, I lost my temper, and rushed forward again with renewed determination to take the wounded bird, which was always at my feet but never in my hand. He who does not command his temper can scarcely fail to do wrong; and never was indiscretion perhaps more severely punished than in my case. [Sidenote: Bewildered in the wood] I had committed an unpardonable act of imprudence in suffering my curiosity regarding the light emitted by the firefly to lead me one yard from the bivouac; but afterwards to lose my presence of mind in such a situation and at such an hour, in the mere attempt to possess a wounded bird, was an act of puerility inexcusable in a boy many years my junior. Need I inform the reader that I was the dupe of a watchful parent, or perhaps there were two of them, who, with a view of protecting their young ones, beguiled me from the spot where they were being reared. The bird was a species of quail, which, like the plover in England, will pretend to be lame, to draw stragglers from its hiding-place. When the cry of the quail ceased, without doubt I had been led a sufficient distance to place her progeny out of danger; I was now enshrouded in all but utter darkness, and then bean to shout out to my uncle John, who was on watch, as loudly and as frequently as the power of my lungs enabled me; but there was no response. The aphorism says, "Do not halloo till you are out of the wood;" and truly I might have spared my lungs, for calling was of no avail. Errors and blunders generally run in sequences; had I remained on the spot when I found myself first lost, the probability is that I should, when the morning dawned, have been near enough to my friends to have been discovered. But no! having been guilty of one act of folly, I must repair it by committing a second. My impatience impelled me to make an effort to retrace my steps; while a moment's reflection might have shown me, that as there was but one road back, so there were many which might lead me farther into trouble. The remainder of this night was spent in exhausting my strength in vain and useless efforts to retrace my steps; and ere the sun rose, I was so fatigued and hoarse as to abandon every hope of making myself heard. Exhausted nature alone brought conviction of the fruitlessness of such efforts. I sat down on a blasted tree, and there relieved my harassed and affrighted spirits by a flood of tears, the shedding of which did indeed bring alleviation; for previously I felt as if my heart was bursting. A heavy load of grief, however, still pressed with a leaden weight on my mind; but as the heart lightened, the reflective powers began to operate, and the full sense of my desolation was presented to my view. I was horror-stricken and paralysed; but as these paroxysms passed away, I gradually brought my mind to contemplate calmly my isolated situation. [Sidenote: First sensation of solitude] I first reflected on the inestimable value of parental affection, the blessings conferred on us by friends, the pleasures of social life, and the advantages mankind derive by forming communities. At that moment there was no sacrifice I would not have made to have been restored to my family, and become again entitled to all these advantages. Out of this comparative state of calmness, I was roused by murmuring sounds which my excited imagination converted into human voices. Oh, how my heart bounded, and with what intensity did the ear strain itself to catch assurance that there was truth in its first impression. But the organ had prejudged, and was not readily open to conviction. I therefore proceeded, with what haste my weary limbs would permit, to exercise the sense of sight. Alas! it was but the murmuring of waters, a gentle confluence of which was precipitated over an elevated rock of stone. It was impossible to conceive a more enchanting scene than that which now met my anxious eye. Through several ravines the water, pouring over moss-grown stones, fell in miniature cascades, with a musical murmur, over rocks shaded by low trees, and grey with variegated mosses and the elegant maiden's hair. Large trunks of trees, thrown down by the hand of time, lay covered with fungi waved with various hues. The scene was altogether such as might for a time engage the attention and abstract the mind of one plunged into the abyss of grief. I was deeply impressed with its beauty, and it powerfully excited sensations of delight; but as I continued to contemplate it, a sense of loneliness crept over me; there was no one near to hear me exclaim, "How exquisitely enchanting! how sublime! yet how soft and harmonizing is it to the feelings." Turning from this scene I found my grief considerably modified in its intensity; and I began now to look on my case only as that of a lost child in society, whom the parents would be certain of finding on diligent search. "God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb," and in a thousand mysterious ways prepares the minds of his creatures to meet the burdens they are called upon to bear. Of this truth I was early convinced. Had the night of my first day's loneliness closed on me in the full consciousness of my desolation and self-dependence for preservation, it is impossible to say what dreadful effects might have been wrought on the mind of one so young, and so tenderly brought up. But it was ordered otherwise. The want of sleep the previous night, together with agonised moments of distress, and fears which returned with redoubled force as the day progressed and no relief came, all contributed so much to the exhaustion of my frame, that long ere the curtains of night were drawn over the forest, I involuntarily fell into a profound sleep, unconscious at what hour, or where I had lain myself. I was thus spared those feelings of dread which, if night had overtaken my waking moments, might have overshadowed my reason while I was watching the final departure of daylight. When I awoke the next morning, it was broad day; and nothing, while memory retains her seat, can obliterate or weaken the impressions I received on opening my eyes. There was presented to my view the most magnificent scene perhaps ever beheld in this world of nature's productions. For a time I imagined myself dreaming of fairy-land. Before me, as I reclined on a mossy bed of green herbage, as soft as eider-down, there was an opening in the wood, shaped like an amphitheatre, with the sun's rays throwing a flood of light into it. Trees rich with foliage and blossoms waved like a galaxy of parti-coloured flags or banners at a jubilee of nature; brilliant colours, varied in endless hues, all beautifully harmonising, so that each was seen without any being predominant. Here arose upright flowers on stupendous branches, towering aloft as if aspiring to reach the sun; there others hung pendulously, as if seeking to hide themselves amidst the rich foliage that cradled their birth, and were anxious in their modest delicacy, to avoid the god of day. Birds of ever-varied plumage, sizes, and habits, were congregated in immense numbers, forming an orchestra of thousands of vocalists, as if met to celebrate the hour of creation. A small glassy lake in the centre of the glade, peopled with water-fowl, served the songsters for a grace-cup, each quitting the sprays to dip its beak into it, and again resume its perch to pour forth a torrent of musical notes. I know not how long I might have lain rapt with delight, had not some husks fallen on my face, and roused me. I have reason to think that I was pelted by monkeys, whose jealousy at the appearance of a stranger in their territories had aroused their indignation. [Sidenote: The nut-hatch in the gum tree] Entranced as I had been by the scene, the grosser appetite admonished me that food was necessary for the sustenance of the body; I had not tasted it for upwards of twenty-four hours, and the demands of the stomach now became imperative. Without allowing myself time to reflect, the horror of starvation presented itself to my imagination, and I was again relapsing into despondency, when I saw several small birds running up and down the trunk of a large tree, in a spiral course; their movement was so rapid, that I could not distinguish whether their heads or tails were uppermost. Curious to obtain a nearer view of them, I advanced, and observed that they frequently tapped the bark with their beaks, and then inserted them into the interstices; this led me to examine the tree more closely, when I discovered large masses of gum protruding from the bark. This description of bird is named the nuthatch. They were in search of insects and their eggs, not of the gum. I however filled my pocket with it, and putting piece after piece into my mouth, as it dissolved, it allayed for the present the cravings of hunger. Frequently when distant dreaded danger is more nearly approached, our fears vanish, and it often happens that a supposed coming evil turns out to be a benefit. At all times, however, the mind is soon familiarised to those dangers that partake of the inevitable. The very worst had now passed away from me--the first night's sleep alone in the forest. I was safe, unhurt, refreshed, and even cheerful: perhaps because I was still full of the hope of being sought for and found by my father and friends. It was the will of Divine Providence that I should for several weeks cherish this hope; nor did I abandon the flattering solace till I had become fully initiated into the ways of providing for myself. Indeed, I may affirm that hope never left me--hope, if not of meeting directly with my friends, of emancipating myself from the intricacies of the forest. Hope, Memory, and Imagination, three lovely sisters, were my companions, and even in the wilds of a forest, "Hope enchanted, smiled, and waved her golden hair." Memory, a visionary slumber, with half-closed eyes, was frequently dispelled by the hard necessity there was to be up and stirring for immediate self-preservation. Imagination came with lamp-like eyes, a bright and bold beauty, seating me at one bound or flight in the midst of my family, enjoying all the comforts of civilized life, throwing me into the arms of my mother, indulging in her warm embrace. Remorse would then supervene--remorse for the pain and anguish I had occasioned my fond and worthy parents, and for the misery my waywardness had brought upon myself. [Sidenote: Efforts to escape] My first meal, as I have stated, when left to cater for myself, consisted of gum, of which I had a store in my pocket. As soon, therefore, as I had satisfied myself with the surrounding objects of admiration, I thought of making another effort to regain the spot where I had left my parents: it was a vain hope, but I pursued it throughout the day, during which I must have travelled many miles. In the course of my peregrinations, I found abundance of fruit and nuts, which lay strewed in my way. Late in the day, I met with a mass of the bush-rope, and, ignorant of its abundance, I at once jumped to the conclusion that I had arrived at the identical spot which our party had before passed. This barrier, as it is designated, to my view was considerably extended; and then my heart, after being elevated with hope, again sunk within me. Still, however, disinclined to relinquish hope, my only solace, I soon persuaded myself that I might not, on the former occasion, have accurately surveyed it; and I resolved, as night was fast approaching, to remain on the spot till the following morning, and from thence to make a fresh start, to find, if possible, the track in which the party were travelling. In social life, provident thoughts rarely trouble a youth of thirteen years of age; his parents, or others, think for him, and generally every night provide a bed for his resting-place. Such had been previously my case; the reader will, therefore, not be surprised that, up to this moment, I had not bestowed a thought on how I was to pass the ensuing night in security. I was, however, now fairly inducted into the school of hard necessity; and as the day was fast waning, I had no time to lose. Acting on impulse, I commenced climbing the bush-rope, intending there to make my bed, but the dread of falling came over me, and checked my resolution. I then thought of a hollow tree, many of which I had seen in the course of my perambulations. Following this suggestion of the mind, I immediately began a search for one, and fortunately met with it on the spot. Night was, however, setting in so rapidly, that I had no time to be nice in my choice. [Sidenote: The jaguar] The tree that seemed most to invite me to enter into its interior was partly uprooted, leaning its head towards the earth, so that I could rest in a sloping position; but thinking the opening of the decayed part too wide for perfect security, I stripped off the bark on the reverse side, of which to form a shutter, or loose door, which I might pull towards the opening when fairly ensconced within the hollow. Having thus prepared my bed, I instinctively cast a look round, as an undefinable sense of danger crept over me; the first movement brought my eyes in contact with those of a large jaguar, the tiger of that country. He was standing upright, about eight yards distant, apparently surveying me from head to foot. I was paralyzed with fear, and remained fixed to the spot; the animal gave me a second and third look, then took two or three bounds, and was out of sight in an instant. It is to this moment my fixed opinion, one confirmed by subsequent experience, that I owe my life to the passive manner in which I stood, and which was occasioned by fright; the slightest movement on my part would have occasioned alarm in the jaguar, and proved fatal. With regard to the jaguar's prowess, he is little less formidable than the Bengal tiger: cows and young bulls he destroys with ease and avidity; but the horse is his favourite prey. All these large animals he kills by leaping on their backs, placing one paw upon their head, another on the muzzle, and thus contriving, in a moment, to break the neck of his victim. The jaguar, although as ferocious as the tiger, rarely attacks man unprovoked, or unless very hungry; but in general he finds no scarcity of food in the regions in which I was located. I now debated with myself whether I should enter the tree, foolishly imagining that the animal designed to take me asleep. At length the gloominess of the night enshrouded me in darkness, and left me no alternative but to spring into my cabin, and pull the pieces of bark before the aperture. I will not attempt to describe the fearful trepidation in which I was placed: the darkness of the night rendered the hollow of the tree like a tomb, and I viewed it as a coffin; every movement of a twig was, to my imagination, the jaguar removing my barricade with an intention of clawing me out for prey. The scene was rendered more horrible by the contrast with that of the morning, to which the mind would revert, in spite of surrounding horrors--one was the reality of the fabled Elysium, the other that of the Tartarean fields. Just as I had thought I had now experienced the acme of terrors, my fright was augmented by something fluttering round my head, the noise from which seemed as if an animal was struggling to disentangle itself from a snare. Shakspere, describing the effects of fright, speaks of its causing "Each particular hair to stand on end, Like quills upon the fretful porcupine." I will not affirm that the hairs of my head rose to that height, but I may safely aver that no mortal had ever more cause for exhibiting all the known symptoms of extreme fright. In a second or two after I heard the fluttering, I received repeated blows on the head and face, indubitable proofs that I had a quarrelsome fellow lodger. Present and immediate dangers chase all others. I kicked away my temporary shutter; but before I could make my exit I felt, by the motion of the air, that a living thing had passed me in rapid flight. [Sidenote: The terrors of night in the forest] When the sharer of my tenement had flown, I began to consider that it must have been some night-bird; and as the jaguar was still uppermost in my thoughts, I lost no time in repossessing myself of my lodging. Worn out as I now again was with the fatigues of the day and the terrors of the night, after a time I was dropping to sleep, when I was once more roused by the growl of the jaguar, as if he had just seized his prey, and half the beasts of the forest, from the noise there was, had collected to contend and fight for the carnage. A short interval elapsed, and then the growling changed gradually into death-groanings. I was now in the midst of a scene of horror and darkness that may well be said to elude the power of verbal description. Only a few hours previously my mind had been harmonized by the soft and elegant forms of nature's richest beauties, under a clear blue sky. How changed was now the scene! how deformed and disfigured was the aspect! It was a transition from Paradise to Erebus; environed by all the real and conceivable monsters in nature. I had before been alarmed--I now abandoned myself to the one sensation of unmitigated despair, the extremity of which was so intense, that it is a miracle reason held her place, or that I survived to write this narrative. Indeed, nothing but the turn my thoughts took at this crisis could have preserved me. I had already undergone all the horrors of an agonizing and protracted death, and was well nigh insensible to grief or pain, when, providentially, in the last extremity, I was inwardly admonished to appeal to my God. And now, with suppliant accents and upraised hands, I prayed to Heaven for a blessing, for short I still thought was the space between life and death. Praying with fervency of soul, I gradually became inspired with confidence; my mind became more tranquil and fitter for calm consideration. It occurred to me, notwithstanding the horrible din of noises around, that I was still unhurt; that if the jaguar had really selected me for his prey, he would have seized me when within his reach, and not have restrained his appetite for the mere gratification of tearing me from the hollow of a tree. Then, in reference to the sharer of my apartment, I began to look on myself as the real aggressor. Had I not ejected some native of the forest, whose natural home it was, both by right and possession; had I not most unwarrantably intruded on his privacy, and frightened an inoffensive member of the sylvan community. Thus, through the medium of prayer, was I at once enabled and taught how to face danger; and whilst looking it steadfastly in the countenance, to ascertain correctly its magnitude, and banish chimerical fears. That I was surrounded with danger, I was still conscious; but now I offered up thanks to God for preserving me in the midst of them; for having directed me to a place of security, and provided me with a strong tower, where I might almost defy enemies. Thus recovering my self-possession, I began really to enjoy the interior of the tree as a very comfortable resting-place and a complete snuggery. Very soon after this state of mind was brought about, I fell asleep, and awoke refreshed and tranquil. Morning was announced to my glad eyes by lines of light passing from the lofty trees, scintillating through the holes of my worm-eaten shutter--lines of light which were delicately drawn by the golden fingers of Phoebus, the most famed of artists. A very considerable portion of the sufferings of mankind have their source in ignorance: nearly all that I encountered, even from this memorable night to the hour of my emancipation from the forest, was the result of my want of experience. Had I known that the noises which had disturbed my rest were but the imitations of the red monkey, I might have slept in quietude. These animals assemble, and at times amuse themselves throughout the night by making the most horrible noises, more especially mimicking the growlings and roarings of the more ferocious animals. I say amuse themselves; but at the same time I may remark that all sounds given out by quadrupeds, birds, or reptiles, are designed to effect some of nature's especial purposes. Some, for their own protection; others, to caution weaker animals against approaching danger. [Sidenote: Monkey tricks] The gift and propensity the red monkey has of imitating the beasts of prey, may deter some enemy from attacking him in the dark; for it is observed they cease their mocking habits when daylight appears. They may also warn the timid animals when others of a formidable nature and ferocious appetite are in their vicinity. The jaguar, as we have said, was in the immediate neighbourhood that night. Among the general community of the monkey tribes, morning and evening are periods they generally select to settle their public affairs, for the noises they make at these times are absolutely stunning, and to strangers very alarming. The forest is their citadel, where, mounted on lofty trees waving in the breeze, they confabulate, and, as naturalists have often described, arm themselves with sticks and stones, and in conscious independence defy all intruders. The red monkey, however, is the most pugnacious of the whole species; and it was some months before I was permitted to walk the woods in peace, for these animals frequently assailed me with a stick or a stone. Policy led me to take all their insults patiently; and in the end, I imagine, they passed an act of naturalization, for I was ultimately permitted to range the forest without molestation. I once witnessed a peculiar instance of their tenaciousness in regard to their territory. An European boat was passing down a river on the side of a wood, when, on a signal being given by one of these animals, others crowded to the spot in such numbers as literally to cover the trees, bending with their weight the branches to the water's edge. At first they appeared as if amused with the sight of the movement of the rowers; then deeming them intruders, they commenced a general pelting, discharging showers of stones and broken sticks. The people in the boats fired; when the monkeys pelted more furiously than before, and though numbers fell wounded, or dead, still they continued the contest till the boats passed beyond their domain. I now entered on the third day of my sylvan probation, and upon the whole, felt more self-possession than I had any right to expect, under all the circumstances of my forlorn case. This day, like all others, waned with a quick and silent foot, while I again rambled round the immediate locality of my resting-place, fearing I might, if I strayed far away, be constrained to face the perils of a night in the open air. [Sidenote: The blood-sucker] This night I took possession of my lodging in good time, and, as I thought, carefully fenced myself with an impregnable barrier; and, as I thought so, it was the same as if it had been a high stone-wall, for it removed my perturbation, and occasioned me to sleep soundly. When I awoke the following morning, I was surprised to find my stocking matted with coagulated blood; I hastened to a rill of water, where I had the day before previously allayed my thirst, to draw it off and cleanse the foot. To my utter astonishment and dismay, I discovered that my shoe was in every part stained with blood, and that the toes and the sole of the right foot were stiff with coagulum. Divesting myself of the covering of my foot, I observed a small wound on the instep, not unlike the mark made by a leech. Imagining that I had been bitten by some formidable insect, such as I had seen in the course of our journey, when I had washed myself and recovered my fright, I hastened back to scrape out the interior of my chamber with a stick. In performing this work I disturbed myriads of small insects with which I had rested, but nothing that could account for the bite on my foot. Pleased, however, at having discovered the necessity there was for cleanliness in my apartment. I was resolved to give it a thorough scouring; and for this purpose thrust the stick up a hollow arm of the tree above my head, when out flew an extraordinary large bat. It was some satisfaction to become acquainted with those who are likely to become the sharers of your lodging, and I had no doubt the bat was the animal that flew against my face when endeavouring to set out the previous evening on his usual nocturnal rambles. Still I remained in a state of ignorance as to the cause of the wound in my foot. It requires much study and considerable experience, even to ascertain the causes of only a few effects in the phenomena of nature's workshop. Unwilling to leave the uninformed reader in doubt, not only in this particular instance, but in numerous others that will be met with in the course of this narrative, I shall anticipate, as it were, my own subsequent experience, and explain, when I can, the causes of certain effects that occurred to me while living alone in the forest. It was a species of bat, named by naturalists the vampire, that I had ejected, and he it was who had bled me so freely in the foot. It is remarkable that this bloodsucker, when once he has fastened on an animal, is allowed to satiate his appetite unmolested, as its victims all remain quiet and unresisting during the time he makes his meal. It is said that vampires flap their wings and produce a cooling sensation that lulls their prey to sleep while they suck their fill. In the instance of myself, I had not awoke the whole night, and was perfectly unconscious of the attack, until morning; but, as I have already said, I was in nature's great school, and soon learnt that, as in the moral world, so it is in the woods, there is more to dread from insidious attacks, than from open and declared enemies. When I had satisfied my appetite, on leaving my resting-place, with nuts and fruit, I sat down by the rill of water, to consider more determinately than I had hitherto done, what were my prospects, and what course of conduct I should pursue for my own protection. [Sidenote: The battle of the snakes] While thus engaged in thought, my attention was attracted to a snake, only a few yards' distance from where I sat; it was near a patch of brushwood, and was apparently trembling with fear. Almost as soon as I had noticed its state of alarm, another snake, with astonishing celerity, sprung upon it, and seized it by the neck, then encircled itself about six folds round the body of its victim, like the worm of a screw. The assailant then, leaning its head over the other, looked its gasping foe in the face, to ascertain the effect of the coils round the body; and seeing that its prey was still alive, it multiplied the coils three or four times, and evidently tightened the screw, watching all the time to see the effect of the extra coils. The attacking party was an animal designated the black snake, and the victim was a rattlesnake, about three and a half feet long, its enemy being about the same length. The former, however, had perfect command over the latter; but I was surprised at the length of time the executioner took to satisfy himself that his work of death was performed. The black snake remained three-quarters of an hour coiled round the other, and then very slowly and cautiously slackened one coil at a time, narrowly watching if any signs of life yet remained, ready to resume the screw again, if necessary, to complete the destruction of the victim. Driving the live snake away, I obtained possession of the dead one: it was four years old, which I scarce need mention was known by the number of rattles in its tail, which make a rattling noise when these reptiles are in motion. The rattlesnake is not among the most active of the species of snakes: it never springs a greater distance than its own length, which rarely exceeds four feet. It is owing to this that the black snake has the advantage, being able to spring from a greater distance on its prey, and, from its rapid motion and method of seizure to deprive it at once of the power of injecting its venom. I have since seen the rattlesnake destroyed by bucks in the open plain, and that without risk of suffering from the fatal effects of its bite. [Sidenote: The buck and the rattlesnake] A buck, when he discovers a rattlesnake, immediately prepares to attack it as a dreaded enemy, while he will pass other snakes unnoticed. The buck, depending on his sharp bifurcated hoofs, with which to sever the body of his adversary, is very skilful in his manoeuvre. He approaches the snake to within about ten feet, and then makes a bound, cutting the snake down with his hoofs with such unerring celerity and fatality as rarely leaves any chance of escape. The two incidents of the vampire and the snakes threw my mind into a state of reflection on the system of nature which makes the existence of one animal depend on another for its subsistence. Then my thoughts reverted to the number of living things I had myself to dread, separated as I was from society where men unite for mutual protection. I had seen in the case of the chegoe, that a very small insect could inflict a severe injury on the human frame, and I had narrowly escaped being carried off by the jaguar. Snakes, serpents, and enormous lizards, crossed my path at almost every step, and the monkeys pelted me. Uneasy and restless, I rose on my feet, to wander I knew not whither; I proceeded forward as if running from danger, yet dreading it at every step as I advanced. Presently my progress was impeded by a broad piece of expanded network, such as, from appearance, might have been manufactured by the hand of man,--it was spread from tree to tree. In the network was a small bird struggling to free itself from the toil which had ensnared it. Thinking I had now crossed the path of fowlers, my heart leaped with joy, and I flattered myself that deliverance was at hand; yet, fearing to spoil their sport, I drew back, and took up a position behind a tree. My mind was soon disabused of the error into which I had fallen. Several spiders of enormous size approaching the captive, I sprang forward to release the bird, and then perceived that the netting was the work of insects. The captive proved to be a humming bird, one of those beautiful little creatures that are fabled to feed on the nectar of plants. They however feed on insects, those which are attached to the nectarium of plants: these they seize for food with their long bills. The spiders that weave these extraordinary webs from one tree to another, are not, like those of Europe, of solitary habits, but live in communities; they mutually share in the labour of forming the web, and divide the prey they catch. It is worthy of notice that all animals who unite their labour, possess infinitely more ingenuity in their proceedings than those who work individually. The weak, however, are generally provided with some compensating, self-protecting secret, that enables them to rear their young in as much security as the strong. Many insects that execute their buildings in trees, and there collect provisions for their infant colony in fear of the depredations of birds, cover the extremity of their store with substances of nauseous taste. Having saved the elegant little bird from the voracious spiders, I could not resist giving it freedom. The web which had impeded my progress brought to my recollection the bush-rope, which I had previously proposed to examine by daylight, in the hope of falling into the original track my family had taken through the forest. After having spent the whole of the subsequent part of the day in surveying the barrier and its approaches, I was reluctantly constrained again to take up my position in the hollow of the tree, under the firm conviction that I had no clue by which I could, for the present, at least, emancipate myself from the mazes of the forest. I retired to rest much depressed, and half disposed to abandon myself to despair. I, however, got some sleep at intervals, notwithstanding the renewal of the frightful noises heard the first night; and, upon the whole, on the approach of morning, found myself somewhat resigned to my fate. [Sidenote: Preparations for defence] Possessing an excellent pocket-knife, I now thought of cutting a good staff, and, if occasion should render it necessary, of defending myself with it against any assailant. How it happened that I had not thought of this before surprised me; and I acquired new confidence from the consideration that I possessed some means of defence. While trimming my staff, the history of Crusoe occurred to my recollection; and I then resolved to adopt his mode of registering time by making notches on the stick; and this employment brought home to my recollection that I had now been lost four days, and, while so engaged, that the present day was a Sabbath. The last notch I cut longitudinally, that I might mark the Sundays, and thus chronicle the return of the one day to be kept holy. Having always been accustomed religiously to observe the Sabbath, the current of my thoughts now took another turn. My first act was to offer up prayers, and to petition God to infuse into my breast courage to face the trials I must necessarily undergo in the wilderness, and ask for his guiding finger in all my wanderings. Alter performing this duty, I sat down on a fallen tree to court reflection, and presently heard a humming noise close to my ear. Turning round, to see from whence it proceeded, I thought I recognised the identical bird that I had, a short time before, liberated from the spider's web. It appeared, at first, to be stationary in the air, and I marvelled how it was supported; it then occurred to me that it was a spiritual messenger, sent in the form of the little creature I had been kind to, as an assurance of divine protection. Full ten minutes I contemplated the bird in this light, when it flew away, leaving me in a much happier state of mind than I had hitherto felt myself. [Sidenote: Utility of birds] The fixed position of the bird I afterwards found to be its habit when hovering over certain flowers in search of insects. There are a great variety of the humming-bird tribe; the one I had caught was very beautiful, and moved its wings with such astonishing rapidity in flight as to elude the eye; and when poising itself over a flower, waiting to attack insects as they enter between the petals, the wings moved with such celerity as to become almost invisible, like a mist. The habits of these birds may be denominated fly-like:-- "When morning dawns, and the blest sun again Lifts his red glories from the eastern main, Then round our woodbines, wet with glittering dews, The flower-fed humming-bird his round pursues,-- Sips with inserted tube the honied blooms, And chirps his gratitude as round he roams." Birds, throughout my sojourn in the forest, were my chief and most cheerful companions. They seem to be sent by Heaven as the peculiar associates of man; they exhilarate him in his labour, and brighten his hours of leisure by their melody. They also, in an especial manner, serve man, by preventing the increase of those insects that would consume the products of his industry. Whatever the uninformed farmer or gardener may say on this head, I beg to assure them that the depredations birds commit are more than compensated by their insectivorous habits. There is not a vegetable production, cultivated or of spontaneous growth, from the forest tree to the most tender garden-flower, that is not liable to attacks from myriads of insects, though small in form and weapons, yet insidious in their mode of attack, and fatal to the plant. Birds are the natural enemies of insects, and were sent as a check upon their increase. Man persecutes the bird for plundering his fruits, seeds, and grain crops, but he does not enquire whether he would have any of these productions if the bird did not free the ground and buds from insects. The late Professor Bradley ascertained that a pair of sparrows, during the time they had young ones, destroyed on an average 3360 caterpillars every week, besides butterflies. Man, when he clears and cultivates the land, destroys the winter food of birds, cutting down the trees that nature intended should supply them with berries during a season when their insectivorous habits are suspended. It would be an advantage to those who are engaged in cultivating the earth, if they studied the harmony of nature a little more than they now generally do. The farmer will say that a hard and long frost is good for the land, because it kills the insects; so likewise do the birds die off in severe seasons of cold, thus reducing the number of his auxiliary agriculturists to the proportion in which they will be required, on the return of spring, to keep the land clear from insects, and secure a crop to the cultivator. Birds in general return tenfold to man, in the services they render him, for all they take from his store; while they, ----"With melody untaught, Turn all the air to music, within hearing, Themselves unseen." The humming-bird's visit, together with the peculiar associations of my mind at the time, produced in me a calmness that partook of heaven. The scene--a picture, too,--which was before me, was one of those beautiful instances of nature's chaste compositions that combined all around in harmony. Lovely were the sylvan flowers, fresh with blossoms, rising amidst the soft and matted growth beneath; and how exquisite the structure of the moss and lichen within my reach; how calm, how clear and serene was the air--how deepened were the shadows--how perfect was the quiet--how eloquent the silence! [Sidenote: Solitary reflections] My meditations were painfully broken in upon by the mind reverting to the jaguar that I thought at times was lurking about to devour me; then to the snakes, and the captive humming-bird. "Has God," I involuntarily exclaimed, "made all his creatures that they may devour each other? Yes, yes! he has." I continued, as I rose with disturbed feelings; "I see the scheme of destruction at every step, and behold it at every turn; both day and night, every hour, yea, every moment, millions are struggling in the death-grasp of their foes." These reflections almost melted my heart, when, casting up my eyes to heaven, as if to ask for some light to shine on my mind and explain the subject, I saw a falcon, in the act of flying, seize a bird of the pigeon kind, and fly off with it into the woods. Tears came to my relief. Goldsmith says, "The mere uninformed spectator passes on in gloomy silence; while the naturalist, in every plant, in every insect, and in every pebble, finds something to entertain his curiosity and excite his speculation. In the animal kingdom alone there exists nearly one hundred thousand of known different subjects, and half that number of different plants. The discovery of almost every vegetable brings with it the knowledge of a new insect. In the mineral kingdom the compositions and forms are almost endless." And Dr. Priestley says, of scientific pursuits "The investigation of nature cannot fail to be valuable. It engages all our intellectual faculties to the greatest extent, and in its pursuit the general stock of useful knowledge is increased. The field for inquiry is rational, extensive, and profitable, beyond conception." "But what right have I, a poor, short-sighted mortal," I then exclaimed, "to seek for the motives that actuate an all-wise Deity? It is not only vain but wicked in man to scrutinize the ways of Providence." CHAPTER III. I BUILD MYSELF A HUT--THE SCENERY THROUGHOUT A DAY IN THE FOREST DESCRIBED. "O may I with myself agree, And never covet what I see; Content me with a humble shade-- My passions tamed, my wishes laid; For while our wishes wildly roll, We banish quiet from the soul." [Sidenote: Projects of building] As the first Sabbath-day in the woods closed upon me, I felt more resigned to my fate, and more composed, than I had been at any previous period since the separation from my parents. I now looked on myself as a denizen of the forest; and as I slowly repaired to the hollow tree, the thought possessed me that I could construct some kind of dwelling-place. During the night I formed and rejected fifty plans for carrying this scheme out. At length, just as morning dawned, a simple method suggested itself to me of effecting my purpose; and, with my usual ardour, I commenced the work forthwith. Before the evening set in I had collected, and trimmed with my pocket-knife, a considerable number of stakes, about four feet long, at which work I continued for four days, when it occurred to me that I had not yet given the eligibility of site a thought, and had been much too hasty in my proceedings. Ashamed of my own impetuosity and want of consideration, I crept to rest, very weary and ill at ease with myself; and as I took a retrospective view of the results of my impulsive mode of acting on the thought, together with the ills I had brought on my own head, I did not spare self-reproach. Considering my numerous wants, it was clearly, where I had collected the stakes, a very inconvenient spot to choose for a permanent place of residence. Weighing in my judgment the kind of locality suited to the purpose, I decided on an open space or glade in the forest, where I might have a clear view all around, and be out of the way of uprooted or falling timber. But for this last consideration I should at once have selected the spot where I awoke after my first night's sleep in the forest. The recollection of that beautiful scene reminded me of another thing I had not hitherto thought of, namely, that my house must be built near to a supply of water, and also of fruit. The next day, therefore, was spent in searching for a site on which I might commence my building speculation. There was no lack of space, or of glades; but in the resolution I had now made to become thoughtful, and act with caution, I fear I became too nice and fastidious. [Sidenote: The forest stream] One open plot of ground I traversed many times with the eye of a government surveyor: it was the very thing itself; but there was no water to be seen. Presently, I caught the sound of trickling water; and my new friend, caution, forsook me. I was so heedless in running to satisfy myself that there actually was a stream fit to drink, that I was precipitated headlong into the gill, or chasm, which formed the channel for its course. It was so covered with wood that the eye could not see it. Fortunately I met with this rent in the earth near to the commencement of the fissure, where it was comparatively narrow and shallow. At any other part, its steepness and depth might have endangered life. It was the birthplace of a native stream. I subsequently learned to track it by the soothing harmony of this invisible torrent, the notes from which sounded like innumerable broken falls, and were softened by ascending through branches which hung over it. These sounds were extremely harmonious. At the spot where I had fallen the water might with some difficulty be obtained, and near to this, at length I determined to build my villa--a sylvan mansion. This site, on one side, was flanked by a morass, or bog, which even then, in the driest season, was only passable with care on tufts of grass, which here and there sprung from the moisture of the soil. Proceeding to lay out my ground-plan, which was a circle, and to prepare for the morrow, I stayed at work till it was too late to find my way back to my lodging; leaving me no alternative but either to stretch myself on the ground, exposed to numberless dangers, or remain awake, and protect myself as I might. In this extremity I thought of the chasm, and groping my way to it, found its extreme end, where it was a mere slit, into which I rolled, and laid till the return of day. [Sidenote: The hut commenced] The morning opened with its usual bustle of animals, birds, and insects summoning me to my labour, and, having commenced, I was surprised to hear a cry of, "Who are you? Who--who are you?" I had scarcely recovered from the astonishment which these words occasioned, when they were followed by, "Work away!--work away!--work away!" and a mournful cry of "Willy come!--go, Willy! Willy--Willy--come! Go Willy!" Looking up, and being now in an open space, I could plainly see the birds fly over my head that uttered these notes. Not aware that these calls are common to certain birds, and my Christian name being William, the reader may imagine the effect and surprise with which they were heard. I instantly discontinued my labour, conceiving that the birds had been influenced by supernatural agency, and that they portended omens which had a peculiar reference to myself. This impression filled me with fears and fantasies of all kinds; it seemed as if some spell was on me, and I sat down in melancholy moodiness for the rest of the day. Irresolute, the following morning I rather dragged myself than walked to the same spot; but as I went, another bird over my head distinctly cried out, "Whip-poor-Will! Whip-poor-Will! Whip-poor-Will!" Yes! I exclaimed (as my spirits threw off the burden which had oppressed them) I am indeed ashamed of my folly in attending to the omens of birds. They are winging their way to the business of the day, and why should I neglect mine? I then returned, and took a bundle of the prepared stakes on my back to my new settlement. Need I apologise to the reader for mentioning the trifling incidents which depressed me at times, and the manner in which the paroxysms were dispelled. My motive in naming them is to illustrate the alternations my feelings underwent during my early days of probation in the wilderness. I know not whether I had taken a cold, but for some days past I had now suffered from a pain in my limbs, which I at the time attributed to the cramped position in which I rested at night. I therefore became extremely anxious to possess a place in which I might stretch myself at length. It, however, took seven days to construct the internal shell of the hut; for, being determined to sleep in security, I ultimately doubled the frame of the building. Having driven stakes into the earth, about a foot apart, forming a circle of about eight feet in diameter, I interlaced these with the limber branches of trees, fastening them to the stakes with tough fibres, stripped from the bark of lianes. These shrubs, of which there are a great variety, all comprised under that term, sometimes grow to the size of a man's leg round trees, making the trunks look like a mast of a ship furnished with rigging. They support the trees against the hurricanes, in the same manner as spurs are placed in the ground to prop posts; cords are made of their bark stronger than those manufactured of hemp. In woods where timber is felled, it is sometimes the practice to cut several hundred trees near their roots, where they remain till the lianes, which hold them, are also cut. When this is done, one whole part of the wood seems to fall at once, making an astounding crash. By the means of the lianes and stakes, I formed a circular strong hurdle-kind of fence; on this I fastened a number of other sticks, like wands, tapering at the top, which, when bound together, met over the centre part of the floor of the hut, and formed a conical roof. These I also interlaced in the same manner as the upright stakes; covering the whole with leaves of the parrasalla tree, which the wet does not injure; binding these also down with my most excellent substitute for cordage--fibres of the bark of the lianes. In the roof I left a hole for ingress and egress; so that, with two steps up, and then a jump, I was in the centre of my habitation, where, with dried grass, I made a most comfortable bed. This, after all, was a frail affair. My next object was to erect another frame over it, at about two feet distance from the interior shell, filling up the space between the upright stakes with stones and dry earth. The aperture was secured at night, leaving only a space for air, with a piece of bark hung on with the before-named fibres. With the same material (bark) I also formed a kind of stage before the opening into the hut, where I could sit, and survey the surrounding scenery. Some time subsequently I wove myself a grass hammock, which I found more cleanly than the dried grass, and less liable to be infested with insects. Finding myself lonely in this structure, I took the resolution of increasing my family; and, with this view, I devoted a portion of the interior for birds, that I might not be wholly companionless. These I took young, and reared them up in an aviary which I constructed immediately under my hammock, letting them out to hop about me when the aperture of the hut was closed. Many of my associates repaid me for my care with strong proofs of docility and affection. I also caught two land tortoises, to occupy the floor of the dwelling, and make me conscious of other living things besides myself breathing the same air. [Sidenote: The dwellers in the hut] In the foolishness of my heart I thought that when I possessed a hut, in which I might repose in security, I should be happy. But alas! in the city or in the forest, worldly acquisitions are not always attended with contentment. Man everywhere sighs for something more than he possesses. I had now a hut, one, too, that was impregnable against the attacks of the jaguar, or any of the animals of the forest; and, as I thought, in every way compactly built to be impervious to noxious insects; but happiness or contentment did not abide in it. I now wanted a gun, that I ought, man-like, slay, and play the tyrant over the living things around me. I grew tired of my vegetable diet, and daily lamented the want of a fire to cook the eggs, which now began to form a considerable portion of my food. These wants gradually, as the mind dwelt upon them, became sources of anxiety, and disturbed my rest. The animal propensities of my nature began to stir within me. I longed to kill at my pleasure, and live on prey, as did the other animals of the forest. At length I determined on making the best substitute I could for a gun--namely, a bow and arrow; and, like Robin Hood, practise till I could hit the shaft of an arrow placed upright in the ground. It was many weeks subsequently to this resolution before I succeeded in even procuring the materials I deemed suited for my purpose. My knife having become blunted with frequent use, it took a length of time to fashion the bow, and no less than four snapped in two as soon as I attempted to use them; proving that, choice as I had been in the selection of my wood, my judgment was defective in this particular. When I had succeeded in forming one of these primitive warlike weapons, I fastened large butterflies against the hut, and commenced the practice of archery. I have informed the reader that the entrance of the new dwelling was through the roof, where, as I have said, I erected a seat, or standing-place; a sort of balcony, or rather, more like a dormer window. On this, every morning, during the dry season, at daybreak, I took my stand to discharge my arrows at any unwary bird that might come within my reach. [Sidenote: Early morning in the forest] This early rising at length grew into a habit, and to watch the opening of the day gave me unspeakable pleasure; and up to the last day of my pilgrimage it was the most interesting hour to me. It was an hour when the littleness of life did not present itself; the mind being refreshed with rest, was prepared to be filled with enlarged ideas. The labourers of the night--for nature has her two sets of working animals--were then all on their way to seek retirement and rest during the day, from the fatigues of the night; while those that had rested during that period were all preparing to hail the morn with innumerable cries. As twilight glimmers in the east, the tiger-cats are stealing into their holes. The owl and the goat-sucker cease their mournful lament, and as streaks of light appear the "Ha! ha! ha! ha!" of the latter, each note lower than the last, sounding like the voice of a murdered victim, entirely ceases. The crickets, also, at this hour begin to slacken the violence of their chirping, though sometimes in cloudy weather they will continue their notes for four-and-twenty hours together. The partridge is the first of the birds to give signal of the rising of the sun, even before he appears on the horizon; while the mist of the morning, that precedes the day, is dispelling, numerous tribes of insects are creeping to their hiding-places, as others are issuing forth to enjoy the day. Lizards of sparkling lustre, from two inches to two feet and a-half long, cross the paths of the forest; and the chameleon has begun to chase the insects round the trunks of trees. Gaudy serpents steal from out of holes or decayed trees. "Each rapid movement gives a different dye; Like scales of burnished gold they dazzling show, Now sink to shade, now like a furnace glow." The houton, a bird so called from the sound he gives out, distinctly articulates "houton, houton," in a plaintive note, as he erects his crown, and cuts and trims his tail, with his beak, in the most, artistical manner, then flies off with a short jerk. At the same period the maam whistles; and when the sun is seen above the horizon, the hanaquoi, pataca, maroucli, and all the parrots and paroquets are prepared to announce his arrival. Every hour from this moment, excepting noon, calls into action new races of animals; and he who spends a day in the scene that environed my existence, when seated at my door, would not know which most to admire,--the forms, hues, or voices of the animals presented to his observation; as at intervals, wonder, admiration, and awe of the power that created them, are forced on the mind. [Sidenote: Forest animals] With the morning's dawn, the monkeys send forth their howl, the grasshoppers and locusts chirp, the frogs and toads give out their notes. The hanging pendant wasps' nests, most curious in form, send forth their inhabitants; myriads of ants issue from their clay-built tenements, in some places colonized so densely as to cover the foliage all around. These, like the species of ants called the termites, that cast up the earth in mounds, commence their day's journey on roads constructed by themselves, some of which are covered, and others open. Myriads of the most beautiful beetles buzz in the air, and sparkle like jewels on the fresh and green leaves, or on odorous flowers. Other tribes, such as serpents and agile lizards, creep from the hollow of trees, or from holes beneath the herbage; many of them exceeding in splendour the hue of the flowers. The major part of these are on their way to creep up the stems of trees or bushes, there to bask in the sun, and lie in wait for birds and insects. The most brilliantly coloured butterflies, rivalling in hues the rainbow, begin to flutter from flower to flower, or collect in parties on the most sunny banks of cooling streams. There was the blue-white idia, the large eurilochus with its ocellated wings, the hesperite, the Laertes, the blue shining Nestor, and the Adonis; these, like birds, in most places hovered between the bushes. The feronia, with rustling wings, flew rapidly from tree to tree; while the owl, the largest of the moth species, sat immovable, with out-spread wings, waiting the approach of evening. As the day progresses, the life of the scene increases. Troops of gregarious monkeys issue from the depths of the forest, their inquisitive countenances turned towards the verge of their wooded domain, making their way for the plantations; all leaping, whistling, and chattering as they progress from tree to tree. Parrots, some blue, red, or green, others, parti-coloured, assemble in large groups on the tops of the forest-trees; and then, flying off to the plantations, fill the air with their screams. The toucan, perched on an extreme branch, rattles his large, hollow bill; and in loud, plaintive notes, calls for rain. The fly-catcher sits aloof, intent on watching insects as they dart from branch to branch, seizing them as they heedlessly buzz by him in their giddy and unsteady career. Other birds, of singular form, variety, and superb plumage, flutter by, in large or small parties, or in pairs, and some singly, peopling everywhere the fragrant bushes. On the ground are gallinaceans, jacuses, hocuses, and pigeons, that have left the perch to wander under the trees, in the moisture, for food. In the tones of the nightingale the manikins are heard in all places, amusing themselves by their sudden change of position, and in misleading the sportsman; while the woodpecker makes the distant forest resound as he strikes the trees. Super-noisy, above all, is the uraponga, who, perched on the highest tree he can find, gives out sounds resembling the strokes of a sledge-hammer on the anvil, deluding the wanderer, as it once did me, into a belief that a blacksmith's shop is near at hand. [Sidenote: The mocking-bird] Every living thing, by its action and voice, is seen greeting the splendour of the day; while the delicate humming-bird, rivalling, in beauty and lustre, diamonds, emeralds, and sapphires, hovers with invisible wings over the brightest flowers. The bird colibri repairs to the tree called _bois immortel_, when the wild guava ripens its fruit; and there, also, will be found the Pompadour, both the purple-breasted and the purple-throated. At the same hour (day-break), the crowing of the hanaquoi sounds like a village-clock, for all to set to work in the great shop of nature. Then the cassique, or mocking-bird, gives out his own short but sweet song, preparatory to visiting the plantations, being fond of the haunts of man, where he remains till evening, making all kinds of noises, from the crowing of a cock, and the barking of dogs, to the grunting and squeaking of pigs. These birds weave their nests near together, in a pendulous manner. Their bodies are black, having the rump and half-tail yellow; other species have the rump a bright scarlet. In form they are a model of symmetry. As the feathered tribes, one after the other, adjust their plumage, and tune their throats, squirrels, in rapid spiral speed, as quick as thought, are seen descending trees, then darting upon others in opposite directions, flinging themselves from tree to tree, with amazing exactness; pursuing their mates or their rivals among the mazy branches of the trees, with a velocity that eludes the sight. Everywhere is nature's secretary, with his pen dipped in intellect, busy in writing down the invisible agency of Infinite Wisdom and Almighty Power. "How dazzling is thy beauty! how divine! How dim the lustre of the world to thine!" The sublimity of the scene, when first beheld, produced unlimited astonishment; viewed again and again, all was softened down into harmonious shades of beauty, imparting a pleasure that cannot be understood by mere dwellers amidst the works of man. [Sidenote: Noon in the forest] In the forest, every hour of the night and day is the Creator present to the eye. Surrounded by the works of man, we sometimes lose sight of our Maker, and do not always properly appreciate his attributes. I have said that the morning gives life and activity to myriads of his creatures, who declare his power; but not less expressive is the hour of tranquillity--the hour of noon. At that hour, all is suddenly hushed into solemn silence. Stillness, as if by general consent, concert, or word of command, influences all the sylvan communities--a stillness illumined and made more manifest by the dazzling and burning beams of a meridian sun. Creation at that hour appears wearied, fatigued, and overcome with the splendour of the day; it is as the face of God himself, before whose glory all things are struck with awe, and pause to acknowledge His majesty. Nothing moves--it is the hour of nature's siesta--yet the stillness speaks. "Thy shades, thy silence, now be mine, Thy charms my only theme; My haunt the hollow cliff whose pine Waves o'er the gloomy stream." The quietness is that of a pause in the running stream of time; the air is motionless, the leaves hang pendant, as waiting in the presence of a deity for permission to resume the business of growth. The silence that reigns at the hour of noon is peculiarly of a religious character; there is nothing to which it can be compared but itself. From the nobles of the forest to the minutest insect, all appear to be at their devotions--the propensity to kill, for the time being, is forgotten or suspended,-- "The passions to divine repose alone Persuaded yield; and love and joy are waking." It is as if the naiads and fairies had deserted the sunbeams and fallen asleep. Oh! there is a harmony in nature wonderfully attuned to the intelligence of man, if he would but listen to it. The hour of noon, in the woods, is an hour of intellectual transcendentalism; it lifts the thoughts beyond the world, and peoples the grove with spirits of another world. Yet is there nothing in motion but the beams of the sun penetrating the foliage to the base of the trees-- "The chequered earth seems restless as a flood Brushed by the winds, so sportive is the light Shot through the boughs; it dances as they dance, Shadow and sunshine intermingling quick, And dark'ning and enlight'ning (as the beams Play wanton) every part." Everything speaks of the Deity, and the fall of a leaf passes as a phantom of the dead. ----"not a tree, A plant, a leaf, a blossom, but contains A folio volume." The fitful meanings of the wind, in the more boisterous moments of �olus, through the branches, speak not louder of God than the whisper of his breath that plays with the foliage. The low and broken murmurs of the water in the gill are as audibly eloquent as the lashing of the waves of the ocean in a storm, or the wild roar of the cataract. The voice of nature, come in what form it may, brings unutterable thoughts of the majesty of the creation. Whether it is in the deep, delicious tones of the happiness of the wood-dove, the melting, graceful notes of the nightingale, the thrilling melody of other sylvan songsters, or the twitterings of the swallow, all compel us to exclaim, "Oh! there is harmony in nature." "Sounds inharmonious in themselves, and harsh, Yet heard in scenes where peace for ever reigns, ... Please highly for their sake. ... Kites that swim sublime In still-repeated circles, screaming loud, ... Have charms for me." [Sidenote: Evening] But the hour of stillness, like all other hours, passes away. The insects again give out their sounds; wasps and bees buzz in every direction; the talk of birds is clamorously resumed; the king-vulture and the kite soar high in the hair, like fugle-birds, as signals for the resumption of the business of the day. The chattering manikins again rustle among the fig-leaves; the armadillo, and other burrowing animals, are seen cautiously peeping from their holes; the horned screamer opens wide his throat, and one by one, the whole of the sylvan feathered community join in concert. The porcupine moves in the trees; the long grass is observed to give way as creeping things pursue their prey, or escape from foes; all indications that the earth and air again are full of animated life. An hour or two elapses, and a gentle breeze rises to cool the air and give motion to the trees, as troop after troop of birds and monkeys wend their way back into the interior of the forest, indicating the gradual decline of the day. General preparations are being made for rest; only the slender deer, the peccari, the timid agouti, and the tapir, will still graze. The opossum, and some sly animals of the feline race skulk through the obscurity of the wood, stealthily prowling for prey. Finally, the last troop of howling monkeys are heard, as if performing the duty of drovers to those that have preceded them; the sloth cries as if in much distress with pain; the croaking of frogs, and monotonous chirps of large grasshoppers, bring on the close of day. The tops of the forest now appear to be on fire, in the midst of which, the toucan, on a blasted mora tree, is uttering his evening cry, as darker shades are gradually cast into the forest, and the sun's disc sinks into the horizon. The sky, which a moment since was bright as burnished gold, has already changed to a dusky grey, with here and there streaks of purple hue. A solitary bird, truant to its mate, or perhaps a mourner for its loss during the day's excursion, is seen like a wayfarer, with tired flight, wearily labouring to reach the wood ere nightfall. Twilight is still lingering in the west, bringing on the night with a soft and sweet touch of delicacy, but still approaching, till surrounding objects become more and more obscure and confused, though undiminished in their beauty and effect. The cries of the macue, the capaiera, the goat-sucker, and the bass tones of the bullfrog, are now heard. Myriads of luminous beetles fly in the air, resembling the ignes fatui, and announce the departure of the day; when the night-moths and numerous other insects start on the wing, the bats flit between the branches of trees, the owls and vampires, like phantoms, silently pursue their course in search of prey, reserving their hollow cries for the ominous hour of midnight. The stars, one after another, are lighted up as the moon rises on the horizon, with a modest countenance, to intimate to man that there is still a ruling power over the world. She tinges with silver streaks of light the tops and edges of the forest, till "Lo! midnight, from her starry reign, Looks awful down on earth and main, The tuneful birds lie hush'd in sleep, With all that crop the verdant food, With all that skim the crystal flood, Or haunt the caverns of the rocky steep." At this hour the spectral owl quits the hollow tree, and with his shriek makes the boldest birds shrink away in fear, though in the sunshine hour they would hunt him. "So when the night falls, and dogs do howl, Sing Ho! for the reign of the horned owl! We know not alway Who are kings by day; But the king of the night is the bold brown owl!" "Mourn not for the owl, nor his gloomy plight! The owl hath his share of good; If a prisoner he be in the broad daylight, He is lord in the dark greenwood. Nor lonely the bird, nor his ghastly mate, They are each unto each a pride; Thrice fonder, perhaps, since a strange dark fate, Hath rent them from all beside." [Sidenote: The bow and arrows] I made but little progress in archery, which was a great source of mortification to me, although I spent every leisure hour I could spare after obtaining food, in practice. I was on the verge of despair of ever being able to make anything like a shot, when an incident occurred that enabled me to kill, in a few weeks, almost any bird on the wing, if within the range of my bow. Returning home from a long and fatiguing ramble (for I had extended my surveys of the forest as I acquired confidence of finding my way home at night), I one day was astonished to see a bow and a quiver of arrows suspended from the branch of a tree. This was a sight which occasioned feelings that are indescribable. I was both rejoiced and alarmed. At first I thought my deliverance was certain; the next moment I crouched behind a bush to hide myself, as from a most deadly foe. When I reflected on the loneliness of my existence, I longed to join society; yet, whenever society appeared to be available, I instinctively shrunk back, as if about to lose my independence or be carried into slavery. Operated on by mingled impulses, the dread of man seemed for a long time to prevail. Might they not be savages, and take my life? Or might they not lead me into captivity, and make a slave of me? They would at least have the Christian's practice to urge as a plea, in extenuation of such a measure. Confident that human beings were in the neighbourhood, I at length resolved to secrete myself in a bush and wait their return. I fixed my eyes on the bow and quiver, expecting their owner would return for them; but the tones of the toucan were heard, by which I was as well informed of the approach of evening, as the partridge's call announces the coming day. Still unwilling to quit the spot, I remained throughout the night; but no owner came to claim the weapons. All this time I feared to touch them as if they were a trap laid to ensnare me. About noon the next day, I thought of possessing myself of them, and then made a circuit to reassure myself that no one was at hand. With fear and trembling I then, like a thief, took the bow and quiver from the tree, and hastened back to my hut to examine them. The whole secret of my inability to shoot birds was now at once explained. I had not feathered my arrows, nor was my bow long enough. Still anxious to know their owner, the following morning I repaired again to the spot, and hung my own rudely formed weapons on the same tree from which I had taken the others. My motives were, first, to ascertain whether any person would yet come to remove them, and also to inform those who might come for that purpose, that another human being was in the neighbourhood. The bow and arrows hung there a month, when I gave up all hopes of seeing any person in the woods; still the event caused me much uneasiness, and ever afterwards occasioned me to tread the paths around with extreme caution. [Sidenote: Flint and steel] Being now furnished with well-made arms, I soon brought down my birds, and might have fared sumptuously, could I have procured a fire. All my waking hours were, therefore, spent in bewailing this want, when one morning, as I was digging with my stick to come at a land tortoise that had crept into a hole, I raked out a piece of flint, and the tinder-box occurring to my mind, I struck it on the back of my knife, and instantly produced sparks, which actually made me leap for joy. My delight, however, was but of short duration. How were the sparks to be collected? I had no tinder--no matches. I then thought of my shirt, which I had long cast off; but then I had no matches, and must have fire before I could make tinder. My joy was soon turned into despondency. I threw down the flint, and in the bitterness of my disappointment, apostrophised it, as the cock in the fable did, when scratching on a dunghill he found a jewel instead of a grain of corn. "Are all my days to be spent," I ejaculated, "in hopes that delight me only to make me more miserable?" Suddenly it occurred to my memory, that when at school, our small pieces of artillery were fired with lighted decayed wood, what the boys called touch-wood. Repossessing myself of the flint, I flew to my old sleeping-place, and in my impatience, struck a light on my former bed--the soft wood in the interior--it ignited, and smouldered. I was in an ecstacy of delight, and clapped my hands with exultation. Still I had no flame. I then collected some dried leaves, and holding them loosely over the spot that was alight, I blew with my mouth; a severely burnt hand soon informed me that I had succeeded. My first fire was indeed a bonfire: heaping more leaves and dried sticks on to it, the tree was entirely consumed, and a number of others so damaged as very soon to become touch-wood. [Sidenote: The thunder-storm] A terrible thunder-storm succeeded this exploit. So wholly absorbed had I been with the fire, that when it expended itself, I found myself in total darkness, the moon having been suddenly obscured. All the inhabitants of the wood were restless and uneasy in their beds. I could hear the stag startle, and again lay himself down. Flashes of lightning showed the birds, lifting their heads at intervals, then returning them hastily again under their wings. The storm had for some time been gathering on the tops of the forest, and had now spread its black mantle over the moon, while I, like a school-boy on the fifth of November, had been exulting over a blaze. On the storm advanced, in the majesty of darkness, moving on the wings of the blast, which my imagination pictured as uprooting the trees around me. The thunder rolled over the crown of the forest in the rear of the lightning. Rifted clouds continued to pass over my head. An owl left its dirge unfinished, and fitted its ruffled feathers into a cleft of a blasted tree over my head. The wild animals that prowl by night, with famished stomachs, sought shelter in their dens. I alone stood bared to the fury of the storm, incapable of reaching my hut in the darkness of that awful night. The thunder rolled as with ten thousand voices, and the lightning at intervals set the whole forest in a blaze of light. One of the flashes brought down a mora tree near to where I stood, crushing the limbs of other trees as it fell. The crash was terrific. Examining it the next morning by daylight, there was a wild fig-tree growing out of its top, and on the fig grew a wild species of vine. The fig-tree was as large as a common apple-tree, yet owed its growth to an undigested seed, dropped by birds that resort to the mora to feed on its ripe fruit. Such seeds the sap of the mora raises into full bearing, when they, in their turn, are called on to support and give out their sap to different species of seeds, also dropped by birds. In this case the usurpation of the fig on the mora, and the vine on the fig, brought all to an early end. A dead sloth was lying near to the prostrate timber, probably brought down, by the force of its fall, from the branch of another tree. It was a night of devastation in the wilds of nature. The storms of destruction blew piercingly on every quarter. The destroying blast clapped his wings over many a tree, and laid prostrate numerous creatures that had life as the sun went down the previous evening. To the things that can be shaken, belong all that is earthly. However durable they may appear, however they may glitter, or stable they may appear, age, or the storm, will bring them to oblivion. Mutability is written on all the works of nature. It is an inscription that meets every eye, whether turned on the foundations of a city, a nation, or the works of the creation. Awe-struck with the dilapidations the morning made visible, I hastened to my hut, anxious to see if all was safe there, and prepare to cook myself a dinner. [Sidenote: The sloth] Man is essentially a cooking animal, and though omnivorous in his appetite, is nine parts out of ten carnivorous. I had abundance of vegetable food around me, of which I ate freely, and was in good health; yet my desire to taste animal food was so strong that I would at the time have made almost any sacrifice to obtain it. I had reached more than half the distance towards my residence, thinking all the way only on the means that I possessed of making a fire, before it occurred to me that I had no flesh to cook. I then turned back, and with my knife cut off the hind-quarter of the sloth, being resolved to try the quality of the flesh. Having collected a small heap of the dried rotten wood, to use as tinder, I succeeded in making a fire outside my hut, where I broiled some pieces of the sloth's flesh, and from it made a tolerable meal, though it was not so good as beef or mutton. Whenever I subsequently met with the sloth, he always excited my pity, and I forbore from doing such a helpless creature any injury. The natives say that by his piteous moans he will make the heart of a tiger relent, and turn away from him. The sloth is a solitary animal; he has no companion to cheer him, but lies on the branches of trees almost stationary, having no means of defence or escape, if you intend him any harm; his looks, his gestures, and his cries declare it; therefore do not kill him. He subsists wholly on the leaves of trees, and does not quit one branch till there is nothing left for him to eat, and he then moves evidently with much pain to himself. He preys on no living animal, and is deficient and deformed, when compared with other animals, though in some other respects he is compensated in the composition of his frame. His feet are without soles, nor can he move his toes separately; he therefore cannot walk, but hooks himself along by means of the claws which are at the extremity of the fore-feet. He has no cutting teeth; he has four stomachs, and yet wants the long intestinal canals of ruminating animals. His hair lies flat on his body, like long grass withered by the frost. He has six more ribs than the elephant, namely, forty-six, the latter having only forty; his legs strike the eye as being too short, and as if joined to the body with the loss of a joint. On the whole, as a quadruped, the sloth is of the lowest degree. He never quits a tree until all the leaves are eaten. The day after I had made a meal from the sloth, I shot my arrow through the head of a horned screamer, which brought him within my grasp; this was a great feat for me to accomplish, the screamer being a majestic bird, as large as a turkey-cock, having on the head a long slender horn, each wing being armed with a sharp, strong spur, of an inch long. I had seated myself behind a tree, where I had been, for several hours, watching the movements of the ants that build their nests on those trees, when the bird came within a few yards of me. This incident practically exemplified to me that, like other animals that seek for prey, I must use patience, and be wary in my movements. It taught me to reflect and to know that it was not rambling over much space that would ensure success, and that every spot in the world was available, either for the study of the things of creation or for procuring food. It is a great error some fall into when they imagine that travelling over much ground will give knowledge; those who observe and reflect may gain more information when examining a puddle of water, than the careless will in traversing the globe. [Sidenote: The ants] Of the insect tribe, the ants early attracted my attention, and I spent much time in watching their movements; indeed, from the first hour I turned my thoughts to the study of insects, I never afterwards spent a dull one. The tree ants' nests are about five times as large as those made by rooks, from which they have covered ways to the ground; these ways I frequently broke down, but as often as I did so, they were quickly under repair, a body of labouring ants being immediately summoned for that purpose. Ants have the means of communicating with each other in a very rapid manner. I am of opinion that the antennæ are the medium through which they receive and convey orders to each other. I have seen a troop of ants a mile long, each one carrying in its mouth a round leaf about the size of a sixpence, which appeared to have been trimmed round to the shape. Wasps do the same; and after twisting them up in the shape of a horn, deposit their eggs in them. When on their march, or engaged at work, nothing deters them from progressing; they seem to have no fear either of injury or death. I have broken their line at different points, and killed thousands of them; the others go over the same ground, as if perfectly unconscious of danger, while a body of them are instantly detached to remove the dead, and clear the way. It matters not how often the experiment is repeated, or what number are slain, others come on as if their forces were unlimited. It would seem that they live under an absolute monarchy, and dare not disobey orders. When accompanying them on a march, I have seen a messenger arrive from the opposite direction to that they were going, and the whole line, as I have said, of sometimes a mile long, simultaneously brought to a halt. One of the ants belonging to the body went forward, and applied its antennæ to those of the messenger, after which, the latter returned the way he came, and the main body immediately altered its course of march. At one time, I fell in with an unusually large body of these persevering labourers, and being resolved, if possible, to stop them, I formed a ditch in their way, and filled it with water; while the ditch was being made, they continued their course up and down the ridges of the loose earth, as if nothing had happened, although hundreds were every instant buried. When, however, the water was turned into the channel, there was a momentary halt; but as the ant must never be idle, it was but for an instant, to receive orders to take the margin of the earth, and travel round the head of the channel. How the nature of the disaster they had met with was made known, so as to stop the whole body simultaneously, may be difficult to ascertain; but at the moment of making these experiments I have distinctly seen the antennæ of one ant strike the tail of the one immediately before it, and the same movement repeated by all the others in rapid succession as far as my observation extended. [Sidenote: Wasps] All insects that live in communities are, I should imagine, in possession of language. One day I saw a wasp fly into my hut, and recollecting that I had a small collection of honey wrapped in some plantain leaves, I went to close the shutter as it again flew out; but observing the wasp immediately fly towards another of his species, and then to a second and a third, and those instantly fly off in opposite directions, I said to myself, the discovery of my depot of honey is being advertised throughout the community of wasps. Thinking I would disappoint the depredators, before I left home I was very careful in fastening the entrance, and stuffing every crevice up with long grass. About a hundred yards from my hut I met a swarm of wasps, which induced me to return and ascertain whether my conjectures were confirmed; and there I found an immense number seeking an entrance, evidently with a view of plundering me of my honey. It was not long ere they found admission through some of the apertures in the roof. Knowing that my honey must go,--for a swarm of wasps is not to be molested with impunity,--I turned away to pursue my walk with the reflection that they only took what they could get, and suited their appetites, the business of my own every-day life. Both in society and in the forest it is wise at all times to avoid being an aggressor. The stings of mankind, and of insects, are most frequently the result of our own imprudence. In the forest I have daily been surrounded with myriads of wasps and large stinging bees, and never received an injury but when I was committing depredations on their store. But of all plunderers in nature, the ant exceeds the whole. I had become acquainted with five species of bees in my immediate neighbourhood, not one of which could secure their combs from the voracious appetites of the ant. They came in such numbers, as sometimes, in my view, to threaten the undermining of the forest; and were to be seen of all sizes and colour. One sort is so large, that the natives make a considerable article of food of them when fried. The termites, or white ants, are very destructive; neither fruit, flowers of plants, or food of any kind, escapes them. When they appear in the dwellings of man, they will undermine a house in a few hours, if the wood of which it is built suits their taste. [Sidenote: Voracity of the ants] The whole of the ant tribes are, however, essentially carnivorous, and are useful in repressing a too rapid increase amongst reptiles much larger than themselves; and I have often thought, when watching their movements, and observing that there is nothing, from the smallest winged insect to the carcase of a bullock, that comes to the ground, but they instantly assemble in millions to devour it, that they were intended by nature to prevent the corruption of the air from the decay and putrefaction of animal matter. If an enormous spider accidentally falls to the ground, they give it no time to recover itself; thousands are instantly on it; and although the spider, in its struggles to escape, will kill and crush numbers, still others continue to crawl up his legs and thighs, and there hang on in quietness, till their victim is exhausted by fatigue, when a few seconds serve to remove all traces of its heretofore existence. As I grew older, and acquired more experience in hunting for my food, I frequently killed large animals, of whose flesh I could only eat as much as served me for a meal, before the remainder would be spoiled by the heat of the weather: this the ants generally cleared away. At length I learned to go out by moonlight, to kill deer and the peccari,--a time that they like to browse, and may be approached with more ease. I generally dragged the remains of a carcase I did not want in the way of the ants, and watched them at their feast. A few hours served to leave the bones of the largest animal perfectly clean, and as a skeleton for study, fit for an exhibition. When the termites, or white ant, is seen in the neighbourhood of man, the antipathies of the species are rendered available. As soon as they are observed, sugar is strewed in such a direction as to lead the brown or black ants to the spot, who, it is known, will immediately attack and put the white party to the rout, much to the amusement of the negroes, who cheer on the blacks to kill the whites. I have often awoke with my body covered with ants, when I generally ran to the nearest water, and plunging into it, freed myself from them; though I never could discover for what purpose they spread themselves over my frame, unless it were in expectation of my becoming a corpse. When, however, I did rouse myself, they seldom exhibited much alacrity in acknowledging their error by making a speedy retreat. CHAPTER IV. AN ADVENTURE WITH A BEAR--AN EXTRAORDINARY ECHO--I AM ATTACKED WITH A FEVER, AND SUBSEQUENTLY DRIVEN FROM MY HUT. "Give me, indulgent gods--with mind serene, And guiltless heart--to range the sylvan scene; No splendid poverty, no smiling care, No well-bred hate, or servile grandeur there." I had now become a sportsman--a Nimrod--my chief delight being found in the use of my bow and arrows. Thus armed, I ranged the forest, or laid in covert, to destroy any game which might come in my way. My propensity for killing, however, soon led me into a scrape, the escape from which nearly cost me my life; yet the lesson was thrown away on me, for it in no way abated my desire to shoot and eat the flesh of birds. Early one morning I had taken my station behind a large tree, from which I discharged an arrow at a mocking-bird. No sooner had the arrow quitted the string, than I descried a bear, feeding on ants' nests, and that in a direct line between myself and the bird shot at. The arrow passed close by his ear; it might have struck him: be this as it may, the bear instantly began to descend the tree, showing evident signs of his intention to revenge the insult. Not being disposed to confront such an enemy in an angry mood, I instantly took to my heels; but had not proceeded far, before the shaggy monster was near overtaking me. In this extremity I ascended a tree, confident of being as good a climber as Bruin was. I had, however, scarcely reached the lowest extending branch, before the enraged beast was close on me. Fortunately, I had in my flight retained possession of my stick; and as the bear had no means of supporting himself but by clinging to the trunk of the tree with his claws, I applied my staff with so much vigour to his feet, that he was constrained to drop to the ground, whereupon his rage was great. He then took a turn or two round the base of the tree to cool himself, gave a growl, and seated himself under it, fixing his eyes on me. In this position the disappointed monster remained, on his hind-quarters, seven hours, watching my movements; till at length, growing weary of his presence, and having read somewhere of the effect of the human voice, I cried out loudly, mentioning several names, as if calling for assistance. When speaking of the storm, I said that the thunder rolled with ten thousand voices. The cause, however, of its multiplied tones, was reserved for this adventure to make known. As I called out, I was utterly astonished to hear my own words repeated several times in succession;--the bear started on his feet; and after looking round, as if in fear of an attack, took himself off at his utmost speed. [Sidenote: An alarming echo] Assured that I had heard human voices, I became more agitated than when in company with the bear. It may appear anomalous; it is nevertheless true, that the prospect, or thought, of meeting with human beings in these wilds, always elicited agitation, or, more properly, terror. The joy that hope brought of my emancipation was always mixed with an alloy of indefinable dread of some coming evil. I remained in the tree about an hour after the bear had departed, continuing to amuse myself with the exercise of the voice, and listening to the repetitions of its sounds. At length, when assured that the bear did not contemplate a renewal of the attack, I descended from the tree, and again raised my voice, and was again surprised to find that I had no response. This struck me as very mysterious; and instead of seeking for natural causes of the phenomena, I abandoned myself to superstitious fears, and persuaded myself that I was on enchanted ground, while my mind indulged in endless chimeras. Every effect is preceded by a cause, was a sentence I had often heard my father repeat; and as it recurred to my memory, I again ascended the tree, and repeated the experiments, alternately, for some time, on the ground and in the tree. The result was always the same, the voice being reverberated when in the tree, and not so when on the ground. Again and again. I turned the matter over in the mind, and could come to no other conclusion than that there were persons somewhere in the neighbourhood, who could hear me from the tree, but were too far off to hear my voice when surrounded with the underwood on the ground. I now thought it my duty to find out the persons from whom I supposed the sounds came, and was actually preparing to start in search of them, when it suddenly flashed on my mind that I had heard a similar phenomenon under a bridge near my own native village, which the boys called an echo; yet as that gave only one response, or echo, I was still perplexed to make out a cause for hearing so many. This phenomenon, however, soon became a considerable source of amusement to me, and by shifting my positions I found several series of echoes: in some places the reverberations were six and sevenfold, and in others they were so numerous as to run into indistinctness. For a considerable time subsequently it was my wont, on a Sunday, to ascend a tree after my devotions, and sing a line or two, or a verse of a psalm which I knew, when the effect was something like a number of voices in a place of worship, though the ear could not compass the innumerable combination of reverberations. When the echo was peculiarly distinct and near, and then taken up and repeated at a distance, it conveyed to my imagination the idea of aerial spirits answering each other. It was thus that the astonishing multiplied reverberations of the thunder in this region were accounted for--namely, the transmission of its sound from point to point. [Sidenote: The honey-bear] I saw no more of the ant-bear; but the honey-bear, which was more common, and a fellow-depredator of the bees' nests with myself, often crossed my path; and it required the exercise of much ingenuity and caution to successfully compete with him. In all countries where the collection of honey is made a profit, various devices have been resorted to for deterring or entrapping the rugged depredators. To enumerate them all would be a digression from my narrative. The following are, however, among other successful modes of dealing with bears who have a taste for honey. The trees in which the bees are found the inhabitants lop close to the trunk, up to the home of the bees, so that the bear has nothing but the main trunk to assist him in climbing. These trees they sometimes stick with spikes, and blades of knives, with the points upwards. These, however, offer but small impediments to the bear in ascending the tree, but as he cannot descend with his head foremost, he is compelled to slide down, when the points are not so easily avoided, generally lacerating him in such a manner as to deter him from making any future attempt to rob hives situated in trees. The experienced bear will, however, sometimes, as he ascends the tree, break off the points, and secure himself a safe retreat. Entrapping them is, therefore, a more successful practice. In lopping the tree the peasants are careful to leave a branch that extends out from the trunk above the hole where the bees have constructed their hive. From such a branch they suspend, with four ropes, a flat board, forming one scale of a pair, such as are commonly used in open markets; when this is hung up it hangs pendant at a distance from the trunk of the tree. When, however, it is prepared as a trap, it is brought close to the body of the tree by means of a bark rope, upon which it is fastened over the entrance of the hive. The bear having climbed the tree, with difficulty maintains himself with his claws while he commits the depredation, and is, therefore, glad to find a seat so conveniently placed for him to sit on; but seeing the entrance of the hole nearly covered with the bark-rope, he immediately commences tearing it away, and, in so doing, liberates himself from the tree, and becomes suspended in the air. In this situation he sits contemplating the alternatives of remaining to be killed when discovered, or venturing a leap to the ground; both, however, lead to the same end, as stakes are placed to receive him on their points, should he hazard a leap. In cold countries, it is by no means uncommon for bears to attack human beings; but in forests, within the tropics, where redundant nature pours out her horn of plenty, and food is found in abundance throughout the year, man, if he is not himself quarrelsomely disposed, may pass without molestation. Both the ant and the honey-hear occasionally visited my hut, having frequently detected them sniffing round my barricade; but when I made my appearance, either on the roof, or in returning from a ramble, they always walked away without manifesting decided hostile intentions. [Sidenote: The rains of Guiana] I had now passed ten months in the forest, and had learned to dispense with shoes, stockings, linen, and, indeed, with every kind of covering for the body, excepting a wrapper for the loins, which I contrived to make out of the remaining rags collected from the worn-out habiliments I possessed when lost to my family. I had also combated with a wet season, and this season was now again approaching, that is, January and February, when the rains fall heavily; indeed, rain is no proper term for a fall of water in a Guiana forest. Rain conveys the idea of water falling in drops; there, the water comes bodily upon the earth in wide sheets. And before they come, no notice is given; they send no _avant courier_ of a few scattered drops to warn you of what is to follow; they are their own messengers. In the intervals between every such fall, the fervid sun resumes its influence, operating with such intensity as to effectually envelope all things in hot steam. A continuation of rain and excessive heat produces exuberant vegetation; and these in turn, by the exhalations of its ripeness and corruption, furnish back to the atmosphere an accumulating fund of distempering miasma, or cause of malignant fever. When the destructive effects of these influences are considered, in a locality amongst the rankest productions of nature, and where in a thousand places the water is pent up and sluggish,--prolific producers of reptiles and noisome vapours--nothing but a miracle, through the interposition of Providence, could have preserved me in health so long. But my day of sickness was not to be altogether remitted, it was only postponed, and then inflicted in kindness, to teach me prudence, and the necessity there was for adopting proper precautions against evil results. My hut, notwithstanding the complacency with which I had selected the site, was, after all, situated in the very worst place I could have found in the entire forest. The former rainy season had inundated the morass that lay in the rear of my dwelling, and had, indeed, threatened me with submersion; yet I continued to remain there, as if nothing of danger had occurred, and the air, impregnated with the fermentations of collected vegetation for ages, was as healthful as that on hilly lands. It is the province of experience to calculate or anticipate results; how then could one so young as I was know that too frequently the beauty which redundant nature presents to the eye, is but an indication of its treachery to the constitution. I had not then reflected on the condition on which mortals receive life, namely, that of being associated with an inseparable companion called care; a companion which never quits their side till they resign up their souls. In my isolated situation, it was natural I should seek to indulge the sentiment of friendship with such companions as the locality afforded. The interior of my hut was therefore a kind of aviary; and it was my practice every morning to devote a couple of hours to teaching, and in the amusement of feeding my companions; after which, I indulged, by turns, the most docile with a walk into the interior of the wooded parts of the forest. A land-tortoise had become so tame, that when, in my rambles, I sat down to rest, I allowed him to seek his own food in the immediate neighbourhood, and that without any fear of his wandering far, even if unwatched. The rainy season had commenced about three weeks, when one morning I arose with an intense headache, excessive thirst, and a burning skin. I hastened to the stream, drank copiously of cold water, bathed for upwards of an hour, and then returned with my usual supply of water, conveyed in a clay vessel, which I had baked in the sun. This, as were similar vessels, was chiefly for the use of my family of birds, &c. I remember perfectly well, the following morning, that, as was my custom, I caressed the whole family; and, to avoid jealous bickerings, to which some were prone, I bestowed on each an equal portion of attention; and that subsequently I took up a tortoise and a mocking-bird for my companions during a walk. I also remember, that as I reached the aperture under the roof, the rays of the sun affected my sight in a peculiar manner, and that a giddy sensation came over me; but from that moment I lost all remembrance of what followed, being unconscious of passing circumstances; until I found myself reduced in flesh, and so weak and feeble, as to be incapable of rising from the floor of the hut where I was lying. Under the opening, from whence I must have fallen, lay a dead tortoise, the shell being crushed. The sticks of which my aviary was composed were all torn asunder, and the broken fragments strewed about the place. Several of my favourite birds, with their necks wrung, were on the ground; the others were absent. The vessel in which I had brought the water was broken into pieces, and many parts of the hut exhibited proofs of an attempt having been made to pull up the stakes of which it was formed. These were all evidences that I had fallen down when attempting to leave the hut, probably from giddiness or vertigo; that a violent fever had supervened, and in that condition I had lost my reason, and the consequent command of my actions--whence the devastation around me, and the debilitated state in which I found the body when reason returned. Soon after consciousness had made me sensible of my condition, I fell asleep, in which I was carried into all kinds of illusory imaginations. Among other fantasies, I dreamed that I was on the sea--walking--yet bounded on either side with rows of myrtles in full blossom, intermixed with jessamines; and that thousands of Cupids and Fauns preceded me, strewing flowers in my way. These figures, carrying baskets, were followed by Zephyrs, which supplied the flowers. I was in a state of enchantment with the scene, yet every moment suffered from the dread of sinking into the depths of the sea, until I thought the water would no longer support me, when I awoke in the fright of being drowned. [Sidenote: The power of prayer] The fever had entirely left me, and I was in a measure refreshed by the sleep I had had. I was now reflecting on the phenomena of dreams, and the length of time the impressions they leave remain on the mind--for I still heard the action of the water--when, after several efforts to disengage myself from the illusion, as I thought, I was roused from imaginings to a sense of the reality of what I heard. Plash, plash, went the water against the exterior of my hut; and these sounds were continuous and audible, so much so as to be unmistakable. Still I was incapable of reaching the exterior to see what was the cause. My state of alarm and agitation may therefore be better conceived than described. Too feeble to use my limbs, I had no resource but in prayer. Most sincerely did I offer the Supreme Being thanks for having preserved me through my illness. I then prayed, that after such a miraculous dispensation of Divine goodness, I might not be left to perish in my helplessness. I believe that no one ever prayed from the heart without acquiring some additional knowledge or strength of purpose. May not this be because prayer is both an inquiry of the intellect and of the affections; the one seeking for the truth, and the other for what is good? Besides, pure devotion is thought, which improves, at least, and helps the judgment. After some time spent in this manner, I felt the perturbation of my mind much abated, and in a frame to contemplate steadily surrounding circumstances, and consider how they might be best dealt with. A short time since, and I had looked on death as inevitable, either by drowning or starvation; now, I reflected, that if the water had been very high, it must have, ere this, penetrated my frail creation; and, if very powerful, it would have swept the whole away without giving me any notice whatever. It also occurred to me that I ought to have some dozen or two of cocoa-nuts and a store of honey within my reach, as I lay on the floor. As I had not previously, on any occasion, made a store, I could not but see the hand of Providence directing me to prepare for my present extremity. These supplies were placed in a hole which I had made in the ground for their reception, being covered with a piece of bark, and a stone to keep it in its place. Fortunately, I had only to drag myself a few yards, and take the nourishment I so much needed; although it was not calves'-foot jelly and port wine, yet, in my then weak state, it proved a very gratifying refreshment. It is not possible for me to make any rational estimate of the length of time I was under the influence of the fever, or of the period employed in sleeping during my recovery. It is probable that it had but a short, though a violent career; but the present exigencies were too pressing to admit of much time being expended over the past. Plash, plash, continued the water against the hut, and the floor began to exhibit signs of its entrance into the interior. My situation was now one of real peril. I made an effort to raise myself up to the opening through which I mast pass to escape, but as I had first to mount a stool formed of pieces of bark, and then to raise my body several feet with my arms, before my head could reach the aperture, I found my strength insufficient for the task. My distress was considerably augmented by the impossibility of my taking any more rest in a reclining position, as the water was rapidly covering the floor, and the probability there was of the structure giving way on a sudden, and submerging me in an instant of time. I seated myself on the before-mentioned stool, with my feet and legs stretched over a bird-coop that had not been entirely broken up. Singular to relate, in this position I fell into a profound sleep, with my back against the lining of the hut; the extreme of distress, contemplated for a length of time, I believe has a tendency to produce this effect. [Sidenote: Perils of water] I had fallen asleep as the moon went down, about an hour after midnight; it was daylight when I awoke; the first object that caught my attention being the staff, on which were the notches that formed my calendar; this was floating on the water, now a foot or more in depth. It is said drowning men catch at straws; the idea immediately came across my mind that, with the support of the stick, I should be enabled to effect my escape. I succeeded; and after wading about fifty yards up to my knees in water, reached a dry spot of land, on which my first act was to kneel, and offer up prayers of gratitude for my deliverance. As a period of unconsciousness had occasioned a breach in my calendar, and the true Sabbath was lost to me, I made the day of my deliverance a Sunday, from which hereafter to reckon the days of the week. Attenuated in frame, with weak limbs, but possessing a healthy stomach, I dragged myself to a half-natural cave, at a short distance, which I had previously cleared out as a place where I might find shelter from the heavy rains, and where I could lie in wait to kill a head of game without the fatigue of hunting for it. In this retreat I lived for two days, solely on cocoa-nuts and honey; the third, I caught an armadillo, which I dressed for dinner, and then resumed the practice of taking a dessert in the afternoon, having abundance of fruit at my command. It is one of the miseries inseparable from the condition of man, that good and evil are presented under different forms; misery often appearing to us under the mask of happiness, and prosperity under the image of misfortune, teaching us to leave all in the hands of Him who knows best what is good for his creatures. I had no reason to complain, having within my reach blossoms, green and ripe fruit, all on the same trees, and those in abundance throughout the year, new soil for their growth being constantly formed by the exuviæ of the forest, which here keeps her sabbath in silence. But even here, in the midst of plenty, man must not be idle. "The crab," say the negroes, "that does not leave his hole, never gets fat." As my strength returned, my wants increased; and as animal food appeared to be needed for the renovation of the frame, I was constantly engaged in the pursuit of it; while, what leisure time I possessed became irksome, from the want of a domestic establishment such as I had formed in the hut. [Sidenote: The first night in the cave] Although my specimen of sylvan architecture was at no time more than half submerged in water, and that without being broken up, I abandoned it as being unsafe as a residence. Finding myself not only more secure from the heavy rains, but much more cool in the cave, I now began to fortify its entrance, to guard against night intrusions. In effecting this object, the only one I kept in view while at work, I fell into the error of neglecting to provide for the admission of sufficient air to sustain life. The first night I passed in the cave, after completing my barricade of bark, which served the purpose of planks of deal, I could get no rest, turning and rolling about with an uneasiness I could in no way account for, till the morning came, when the admission of air made me sensible of breathing with more freedom, and at once explained the cause of my previous uneasiness. The next day was spent in cutting holes through the bark fence, to remedy so serious an evil as the want of air. Accustomed as I had been to the intimate society of birds and other animals, their loss was too severely felt for me to remain long without them; I therefore commenced the construction of a new aviary on the outside of the cave, with a space beneath, to confine any of the small kind of animals which might fall into my hands. One surviving tortoise from the hut I had already brought into the cave. It was not long before the entrance to my retreat somewhat resembled the display made by a metropolitan dealer in animals, on the pavement before the steps which lead to his lodgings in the cellar. Contentment is in no station the lot of mankind. Although my new residence had many advantages, nothing could compensate me for the loss of the security in which I had every morning obtained a survey of the movements of the inhabitants of the forest from the roof of the hut. I did not, however, indulge in idle regrets, continuing to work on in constructing snares and traps, to people my new dwelling-place; and when it happened that I wounded a bird or animal, I derived a peculiar pleasure in attending to it till its recovery was effected. When I had again collected a tolerable number of friends, and formed some new attachments, a catastrophe happened which occasioned me more regrets than any circumstance which had previously befallen me in the woods. [Sidenote: Slaughter of the pet birds] Early in the day I had left my family all safe and well; they were of course confined, but plenty of air and light was admitted through the bars into their dwellings. I had the satisfaction of thinking they were happy, even in their captivity; they were, however, all carried off at one fell swoop, and I returned only to witness the desolation of the scene. There is a small animal of the weasel species, having the bump of destructiveness so strongly developed, that it seeks the destruction of all other animals that cannot defend themselves from its attacks; it is called the crabbodaga. One of these--or there may have been an accomplice in the murderous business--crept between the bars of the cage, and killed every bird and animal I possessed, excepting a mocking-bird I happened to have out with me. None but those who have reared birds from the callow state and have given them a place in their affections, can appreciate my distress at this disaster. The birds had been my companions--had dined, some of them, at the same table every day, and over the dessert had amused me with their conversation, or delighted me with their music. Reflecting on this domestic tragedy, I resolved to convert the entire of the abandoned hut into one large aviary, that is, as soon as the dry season had entirely freed the place from water. I had very little difficulty in trimming sticks, and binding them together for fences, to confine the birds; but it was not so easy to repair the loss of attached friends, who had reposed their confidence in me, or to teach strangers an agreeable method of conversation upon a given signal. I could now no longer give dinner-parties at home; I therefore intruded on the entertainments given by others, for I did not enjoy my meals alone. I did not often take a meal with gregarious birds--those who moved in flocks,--yet many of these were excellent companions in private; in a body they were generally too noisy and fickle in flight to be depended on, except in the morning or evening. The birds usually called social, were my favourites; these are such as live in pairs, but assemble in parties at certain hours of the day to dine on the same tree, sing in concert for an hour, and then part as they came, each attended by its mate. At many of these entertainments I was permitted to remain, without causing any surprise or confusion; but then I behaved with proper decorum, and above all, did not forget the manners and habits of those I visited. Observing the monkeys to be very fond of the seeds that grew on a tree called the _vanilla_, the Spanish name for scabbard, which the seeds of the plant resemble, I one day presumed to join one of their parties at meal time, and climbed a tree for that purpose, but was received so very uncourteously, that I gave them up as incorrigible boors. That they have no soul for music I have had frequent proofs while listening to the song of the thrush in the breeding season; a period when these birds select an elevated spot, generally the same every day, and pour forth strains of peculiar melody. These songs the monkeys not only disregard, but continually interrupt with their monotonous howls. [Sidenote: Habits of birds] The habits of birds are very peculiar, and distinctively marked; the thrush sings to its mate, delighted with the prospect of rearing up a new progeny; the nightingale, on the contrary, only ceases to sing when his mate arrives to join him; being migrating birds, the male precedes the female in making its passage from one country to another, and pours forth his notes only while waiting for the arrival of the female. If this bird is caught and caged before he is joined by his mate, he will continue to sing in confinement, if afterwards, he will be mute. Nothing is more remarkable in birds, or has perhaps been less noticed, than their affection for each other, and for callow birds in general. The cries from any one nest of birds will set all the old ones within hearing into a state of extreme agitation, all flying up and down anxious to inquire what is the matter, and what assistance they can offer. He who walks through the woods, and can imitate the cries of young birds, may at all times be certain of collecting old ones around him, that is, in the breeding season. The cry of young birds in the nest is in the forest what the cry of fire or murder is in a city; it alarms all the neighbourhood; and the knowledge of an enemy to their young being in the vicinity of their homes, is to them much the same as going to bed next door to an incendiary. I have seen a blue jay--a very noisy and chattering bird--discover an owl sitting in his hiding-place, and immediately summon a flock of his feathered fraternity to his assistance. These surrounded the winking _solitaire_, and opened a fire of abuse on him that might at a distance be mistaken for a general disturbance in Billingsgate Market. The owl opened and then shut his eyes, as if at first unconscious of the meaning of the attack, and asking, "Can it be me you mean?" He, however, was soon made sensible that he would not be suffered to remain within their jurisdiction; and off he went, followed by a mob of birds, who hunted him out of the bounds of their district. Clamorous as the jay is against the owl for eating young birds, he himself I have detected in tearing the callow young out of the eggs belonging to other birds; yet he never fails to unite with the other feathered inhabitants of the wood at the cry of danger. The tender assiduities of birds in their attachments is no less remarkable than their courage in defence of their mates and young ones. The male, solicitous to please, uses the tenderest expressions, as evinced by his manner; sits by his mate as closely as he can; caresses her with a thousand endearing movements of the body and head: sings to her his most enchanting warblings; and, as they are seated together, if he espies an insect more agreeable to her taste than another, he takes it up, flies to her with it, spreads his wings over her, and genteelly puts it into her mouth. And if a rival or an enemy appear, his courage in attack soon proves the ardour of his love. [Sidenote: The mocking-bird and snake] During incubation, the female is no less the object of his solicitude; as birds have many enemies, the males feel that it is their duty to watch over and protect their mates and young ones. I had every waking hour opportunities of witnessing their courage, frequently seeing very small birds attack the black snake, darting at its head, and pecking the eyes till they either killed or drove away that enemy to their brood. When these contests became doubtful, the females would leave their nests, and hasten to the scene of action to render their mates assistance. The mocking-bird seldom fails to kill the snake single-handed, instantly afterwards mounting the bush, to pour forth a torrent of song in token of victory. These birds mount and descend as their song swells or dies away; at times darting up with the celerity of an arrow, as if to recover or recall the last strain of expiring melody. While the mocking-bird thus exerts himself, a bystander, destitute of sight, would suppose that the whole of the feathered tribes had assembled to vie with each other in singing and in deceiving the sportsman, by imitating the birds of which he was in pursuit. Their talent at imitation is so extraordinary, that they can call the mates of almost every other bird around them at pleasure. The fascinating power ascribed to the black snake is an error. When a snake is discovered in the vicinity of a nest, the male bird mounts a spray, and in great agitation flutters his wings in a threatening manner, till an opportunity offers of flying down to the attack. In these encounters the snake sometimes succeeds in biting the bird, and in injecting its venom, when the effect of the poison is so sudden, as to paralyse the further efforts of the latter; hence has arisen the supposed power of fascination, and the story of birds flying into the snake's jaws. Instances of this nature I have witnessed, and if I had not followed up my observations further, might have fallen into the popular error of supposed fascination: but my experience informs me, that when the bird is said to be spellbound, it is preparing to destroy an enemy, in which encounter it generally comes off victorious. Birds, as a class, possess as much intelligence, and more courage than any of God's creatures lower in the scale of animals than man. The instincts, or the propensities and precautions of animals, as in birds developed, are as multifarious and as striking, if not more so, as in other animals, not excepting the elephant and dog. A thrush that I caught in a trap used to catch wasps, and after plucking the wings off to prevent their escape, pressed the abdomen with his bill, to force out the poison of the sting before he swallowed it. I have frequently seen birds seize mice and reptiles, and after examination reject them. In all such cases I have found that the prey thus cast aside was sickly, or infested with lice. The birds seem to reason thus: "If I take this sickly thing to my nest, I shall not only carry my young ones unwholesome food, but shall carry a nuisance to them, also." Another bird I had in my aviary, would carry food that was too hard for his taste to his water, and there let it remain till it was soaked to his palate. [Sidenote: Departure from the cave] Looking over my notched calendar, and transferring it in weeks and months to another stick I was suddenly struck with the length of time I had been shut out of society, and how wonderfully the Almighty had preserved me. It then occurred to me that I had not exerted myself as I ought to have done, to free myself from the intricate mazes of the forest. Then, reflecting on the regular inundations of the morass, I thought it was probable that the waters might come from a river, or the sea; and as they had just then retired, I determined to start off immediately, and pursue the margin to its source. Hitherto, security at night had induced me to linger about favourite spots; I had now surmounted childish fears; still I was sensible of the great risk I should run of sleeping, night after night, in the open air; and this reflection for a time deterred me from carrying out my plan. At length I thought of the gipsies I had seen in the green lanes in England, and then set to work to manufacture a substitute for the covers they use to throw over the hooped sticks at night, with which they were wont to form low booths. This I effected by platting and weaving long dried grass, and when it was completed, I cut some poles of the lacaria; but still doubting my own resolution to break up my establishment, I one day, with a kind of spasmodic effort, liberated all my newly-collected domestic friends and companions, some of which accepted of freedom rather reluctantly. My attachments being thus dissolved, the following morning I commenced my lonely journey, on the second day of which I made a fire near to some shallow water, and was broiling a jay I had killed for my supper, when the earth on which I sat began to move, and instantly afterwards the embers were scattered about. Starting to my feet with alarm, a crocodile about four feet long showed itself as it plunged a few yards further off into a pool of mud and water. The place on which I had lighted my fire, was a part of the swamp, crusted over, probably, by the heat of that day's sun only. Every hour, indeed, now brought me in contact with enemies, and exposed me to privations I had avoided by making a home in one spot. But then I had an object to attain, and I persevered for twenty days, at the end of which I had the mortification to find that I had, like many others in the world, progressed not a step, having travelled in a circle, which brought me to the very threshold of my recent home. My chagrin was so poignant, that I thought the very trees waved in derision at my folly; and the same day I set out in another direction, which proved to be directly south. Every step I took informed me that I was a trespasser; the scene that I had quitted appeared to have been ceded to me by the inhabitants of the forest, who were willing for me to occupy it without molesting me, or exhibiting any signs of alarm; but, as I moved from place to place, all seemed in arms against me. My insatiable curiosity, too, was everywhere offensive; nothing escaped my prying propensity, and I even regretted that I had suffered the crocodile to escape that I might have intercepted, had I been cool, and have driven to the land for examination; I often, indeed, pushed my inquiries beyond the line of prudence. [Sidenote: An unpleasant nocturnal visitor] One moonlight night I was favoured with a splendid view of the jaguar under the influence of a hungry stomach, and in that state I saw him seize his prey. I had spread my matting at the lower end of a tree that had been torn up by the roots, between which I could creep and hide myself; at the other end the branches extended into a small glade or open space; when about midnight I was awaked by a tremendous roar. Alarmed for my own safety. I crept between the roots of the tree, pulling the covering after me, and in this situation raised my head so as to look along the shaft of the fallen timber, about ten yards from the end of which I could distinctly discern the jaguar, pacing up and down, in a space of not more than thirty yards. His step was quick and hurried, but so light that he appeared not to touch the ground; his swollen and stiffened tail swept the ground, as it moved from side to side. I instantly became anxious to ascertain whether his eyes were directed towards any particular object, and more especially in the direction where I was hid. I had the satisfaction of seeing their fierce glance furtively cast in every direction but towards me; indeed, I must have been invisible to him through the broken branches and roots, at the distance he was from the tree, and amid the shade that surrounded me. The spot he had chosen for his nocturnal promenade was, I have no doubt, a deer track, on which he had before in all probability snatched many meals. His impatience evidently increased as his expectations were delayed; he quickened, if possible, his step at every turn, till at length he suddenly paused, and assumed a most exciting attitude. His tail for a moment stood out perfectly horizontal, in a line with his back; making gentle sweeps, as if of immediate expectation. Suddenly he crouched on his belly, still moving his tail very gently; at length the moment arrived: he gave one roar of horrid delight, and the next, a deer was in his jaws, and growling, he seized and dispatched it by twisting the head downwards with his paw. Finally he gave the deer a shake, as if to assure himself that life was extinct, and then, with a fling of the head threw the dead animal across his back, and was lost in the thicket, depriving me of the satisfaction of witnessing his manner of finishing the repast. Strong in my resolution to arrive if possible at the extremity of the forest, I continued to proceed, as I thought, in the same direction; but I could not travel every day, being compelled sometimes to watch through the night, and being frequently unable, while moving forward, to obtain a sufficiency of nutritious food. When, therefore, I met with a convenient retreat, I stayed and refreshed myself till I acquired strength to undertake new labours. Some scenes would irresistibly detain me, and if any one express surprise that they should do so when journeying to seek the society of my fellow-creatures, I reply that I did not at any time abandon the hope of success; yet when the uncertainty of my course, without a compass or guide, is considered, I never had a right to be very sanguine in my expectations, use whatever efforts I might. In a journey of such a doubtful nature, oftentimes worn down with fatigue of body and despair of mind, it was natural to linger on and to rest in an oasis longer than in a desert. In a hot climate, cool retreats have peculiar charms, such as are unappreciable by those who live in cold countries. The mere topographical traveller may measure a lake, or a river, give the height and angle of a projecting rock, describe the rush of falling waters into an estuary, and trace the course of rivers from their rise to their mouth, but he is unable to give the living tints of nature, together with all their form and colour. [Sidenote: Beauties of the forest] Neither the pen nor the pencil can describe the feelings of those who sympathize with nature in her secret homes of grandeur. When I first entered the forest, the effect of the sublimity of the scene was astonishment, in which the beauties were lost; but as surprise wore off, these beauties, one by one, stood out to view; and operating on the senses, produced pleasure in its highest state of enjoyment. In scenes where bignonias, passifloras, and a thousand other flowers presented an unceasing display throughout the year, surrounded with birds and insects of surpassing beauty, who, possessed of sympathy of soul, or an ear for the sweet sounds of nature, would not for a time forget mortality and live in imaginary eternal bliss; for the charm of such scenes is only dispelled by awakening to the wants and necessities of the corporeal man. My existence was of such a nature,--one of alternate enjoyment in communing with lonely and enchanting scenes, and of fears lest I should fall a sacrifice to the dangers that environed my everyday movements. Sometimes I sallied forth to face dangers, and again paused to breathe, and, for a time, escape them. At length I reached a new scene, consisting of sand-hills, out of which issued springs of water, uniting at a short distance, where they formed a stream, which appeared to wind over an open country. In comparison with my solitude in the woods, this was a cheering change; and recollecting the geographical axiom in my school-books, that all springs and rivers ultimately find their way into the sea, I rejoiced at the chance I had of being extricated from the labyrinth in which I had been so long bewildered. [Sidenote: Following the stream] It is the fate of mortals to see the birth of pleasure only to witness her destruction. Her commencement is always very nearly connected with her end. The instant that gives her birth is generally the same in which she expires. I had not proceeded far before the waters spread themselves over the land, and were lost to the sight. In one or two places their course terminated as if they were cut off with a knife, one edge being visible and the other in obscurity, exhibiting the phenomenon of rivers which suddenly take a subterraneous course, to rise again at another point, leaving the space between perfectly dry. Being now in an open country, I ascertained that the course I had travelled was directly southward, or towards that part of the horizon which was cut by the sun's culminating, or meridian line; and this course I continued to pursue. A day and a half again brought me to the stream, for, as yet, it was not entitled to be called a river. It now, however, took a direction leading into the wood, among the foliage of which it was lost to the eye. The emancipation from the forest had given me the greatest possible delight, I therefore could not but hesitate before I again entered it; yet it was my only certain source of subsistence in the open country. I suffered both from hunger and thirst. I had, therefore, no alternative but to follow the stream; and on I went, its course winding so much that I began to fear I was traversing another circle. At length, after giving me much wearisome toil, it was lost in an impenetrable thicket of wood. I was now constrained to make a very considerable and extended _détour_, in the hope of again reaching its banks at some merging point. Three days I journeyed round an impervious mass of wood, so closely matted that I could at no point obtain an entrance. At the end of that time, I suddenly lighted upon the spot where I supposed the waters met in one broad reservoir. Various tributary streams flowed into this spot, and continued their meandering course for many miles. I hailed the sight of it with considerable delight, as I had begun to be fearful that I was about to lose sight of its course altogether. CHAPTER V. I WITNESS A GRAND CONVULSION IN NATURE, OF WHICH I HAVE A WONDERFUL ESCAPE--AM RESCUED IN THE LAST EXTREMITY, AND ADMITTED INTO A TRIBE OF INDIANS. "Look round and see How Providence bestows on all alike Sunshine and rain, to bless the fruitful year Of different nations, all different faiths; And though by several names and titles worshipp'd, Heav'n takes the various tribute of their praise. Since all agree to own, at least to mean, One best, one greatest, and one Lord of all." [Sidenote: A useful hollow tree] When I arrived at the confluence, as I took it to be, of the streams, it was Saturday night,--that is, according to my new calendar. As I did not think it lawful to travel on the Sunday, I sought for an eligible place of security, where I might rest, and start thoroughly refreshed on the Monday, to solve the problem of the opposing currents. With this view I ascended an isolated blasted tree, where I might seat myself, and find protection from insidious enemies. I was delighted to find that the trunk was hollow, the only entrance being from the top. The tree leaned to the horizon at about an angle of 45 degrees. After carefully examining it, I thought I had satisfied myself that it was not pre-occupied by any obnoxious inhabitant; I then dropped into it, as it were, down a chimney. Crouching, I was out of sight, but when I stood erect I had a view of my own desolate situation. A species of frogs had just commenced to send forth their peculiar noise, which resembles the sound from a stonemason's yard, when I was annoyed by a number of green frogs, such as dwell in trees; and endeavouring to brush these from my immediate locality, I discovered a number of the _scolopendra_, or centipedes, from five to eight inches in length. Perceiving a hole in the side of the tree, I proceeded to expel these formidable insects with my stick, by which means I disturbed, in the pulpy part of the decayed wood, a nest of _scorpions_. Things in motion soon catch my eye, and in another second I had regained the earth. Indisposed, however, to give up such a comfortable apartment, I cleared out the whole of the interior, and then regained the top of the tree, where I sat for a considerable time in doubt whether I should retire to rest or keep watch through the night. It was a beautiful evening, and the air was strongly impregnated with the aromatic fragrance of the different species of the _rubiaceæ_, the _andiocera_, and _ænothera_. Moonlight is a thoughtful period in all climates. I had almost, while watching my own shadow, forgotten the process of time, when suddenly Cynthia extinguished her lamp. Wearied, both in a mental and physical sense, I again, reckless of consequences, dropped into my cylindrical apartment. How long I slept I cannot tell; I was, however, awaked to scenes as remarkable as they were terrible and rapid in succession. A flood of light was streaming into my skylight, and I became conscious of a rocking sensation. For a moment I concluded that I was again seized with the vertigo in my head. A violent sound of rushing waters soon roused me to a sense of my real danger, and, standing erect, I beheld all the firm earth, on which but a few hours previously I had stood, now covered with water. An immense number of aquatic birds were floating on its surface, while others were springing up to branches of the trees above, to escape from the enormous serpents, and other monsters of the deep, that infest temporary lakes caused by sudden inundations. [Sidenote: An inundation] As I surveyed the scene the waters were still rising, and the tree on which I sat rose with them in an upright position. Presently it became stationary, and the water began, gradually to cover its trunk. I have said that it was an isolated spot: it was a small area in the midst of the wood, which appeared to have been cleared by the blast of lightning, the nearest tree being fifty yards, or more, distant. Among other things struggling for life was a fawn, which swam beneath me, and was seized by a cayman; while as another monster of the same species, at least thirty feet long, paused to survey me, with my feet then nearly touching the water, I impulsively raised my stick in self-defence, and at this juncture the trunk of the tree suddenly swung round, and by its action nearly threw me off into the jaws of the cayman. The principal part of the roots were torn from the earth, but most providentially the only remaining branch on the tree remained uppermost, which presented me with the opportunity of climbing five or six feet higher. Still, as I could not now turn round with facility, I remained for a full hour, every moment expecting the monster would seize me from behind; for the cayman continued to show himself at intervals, as if certain, in the end, of his prey. At length the roots of the decayed tree parted entirely from the earth, and it was carried forward with the current. Fortunately the branch, which was my only chance of escape, still remained elevated. The cayman did not abandon his intended victim till my bark conveyed me among the standing trees, when I seized the opportunity of climbing up one of considerable height. Up to this period all other dangers had been merged in the immediate dread of the monster of the deep, but I was now at liberty to take a more extended view of the scene, from a fixed position, and I found myself in the midst of congregated wild beasts and powerful reptiles. In the next tree to the one I occupied was an ant-bear, and a little farther off I could discern several others. Monkeys and apes were swinging and chattering over my head in large numbers; serpents, from five to thirty feet long, were crawling on the branches and round the trunks of trees, to escape from the flood; tiger-cats, beautifully striped, were springing from branch to branch of the green and purple-heart trees, which here grew to the height of seventy feet; lizards were seen in such numbers as in many places literally to cover the branches of the trees. All the birds were sending forth sounds of dissonance, as if stricken with terror; while the shrill voice of the bird called the pi-pi-yo roused me to the consciousness that the hour of noon had arrived. The lofty _panax_, _Bignonia_, _copaiva_, rising to a hundred feet in height, were peopled with living things, all in apparent consternation at the sudden changes of the scene. It was a grand, though an awful sight for a human being to behold. Animals of various natures, habits, and antipathies, were all crowded together in one common place of refuge, shaken by the wind, and dreading contact with each other, as the violent rushing of the waters bore on their surface numberless proofs of the havoc made, and still threatening to sweep away and swallow up every vestige of animal and vegetable creation. [Sidenote: Hope in desolation] But let the soul be set on the highest mount of distress, and view the most spacious prospect of misery, if the eye be turned towards God comfort may be found beyond the horizon, when human strength is vain. I lifted up my voice in the wilderness, and lo! God was there, and I took courage, exclaiming, "The Almighty is the architect of all I see, His power stretches over the whole earth and the empty space; He hangs the earth and all the ethereal globes upon nothing; and is He not able to save me?" "I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness," saith the Lord. "The hand which fixes the stars and guides the planets in their courses is stretched out to preserve His children." With these reflections did I trust in my position, and bid my soul to take courage and rely on divine succour. Fortunately, I had the remains of a cooked bird in my wallet, which always hung at my back; and _murucuja_, fruit of one of the passion-flowers, was within my reach, which I gathered and ate. The fish also forsook their ordinary food, for I could plainly see them feeding on the fruit and berries of shrubs through which they swam. At length night overtook me, and the moon, I thought, rose with a more speaking yet angry countenance than usual, frowning blood-coloured rays on the surface of the water and through the foliage of the wood, still rendering my fellow-lodgers immediately around me visible, while the vampire and other species of bats flitted wildly round, like spirits of the air; and occasional splashings beneath indicated that the larger tyrants of the flood were making prey of the weaker inhabitants, or the latter were exerting themselves to escape from the jaws of the former. The terrestrial animals seemed, for the most part, in providing for their own safety, to have suspended all operations of warfare, the scene above the flood in the evening wearing much the same appearance as throughout the day, excepting that the reptiles were not so numerous, the serpents and lizards having found hiding-places in the holes of the trees or under thick foliage. After a few hours the moon went down and left me "In the populous solitude of bees and birds, And fairy-form'd and many-colour'd things." It was now that, like Job, I had to "gird up my loins like a man;" for, as darkness shrouded me, my thoughts naturally reverted to the bear in the next tree; I could not but speculate on his movements, and the probability of his descending and swimming to invade my territory. Impressed with this fear, the master one of the hour, I took up a position to command the trunk of the tree, where, armed with my stick, I might oppose him to an advantage. [Sidenote: A night on the water] It would be futile were I to attempt to describe my sensations during the night. Could words be found expressive enough for the purpose, they should have been penned at the instant they were felt; feelings under such extraordinary circumstances cannot be recalled, or appreciated only at the time they were excited. Words, in description, stand for general ideas in Nature's chart; ten thousand sensations and forms enter of themselves into the sanctuary of the mind. I can only say that I spent the night in prayer for the coming morn. It, however, passed without involving me in any encounter. "Now, men see not the bright light which is in the clouds; but the wind passeth and cleareth them away." I thought it was an interminable night, and long before morning dawned, as the first glimmer of light tinged the eastern horizon, I strained my eyes to assure myself of its actual approach; yet what hope could it bring me?--none, in prospect; notwithstanding which, latent hope was not wholly extinct. A vague idea possessed me that I might find some floating tree to carry me to the nearest shore. At length, indolently, as I thought, the morning did appear, rendering surrounding objects visible. The bear was still in the tree, coiled up like a cat, in a forked branch, apparently asleep. His bearship had not even the politeness to pass the compliment of the day by noticing me; and noon again arrived, bringing with it utter despair. For some time I had been watching a log of timber, in the hope that it would float within my reach, when I distinctly heard the sound of human voices. My heart leaped up with joy; and the coincidence of the appearance of a rainbow at the same instant, operated like a reprieve to a malefactor in the hands of the executioner. I was so much elated, that I actually should have neglected to have called out for assistance, had not the same voices again addressed my ear more distinctly, when I used my vocal powers with all my might; but I had no response, and my heart was again, sinking within me, when I observed a canoe approaching. It contained two Indians; one was using the paddle, the other directing his attention to the spot from whence my voice proceeded. A few seconds brought them under the tree, and an invitation, by signs, for me to descend, and accept of my emancipation from their hands. [Sidenote: The charms of solitude] Notwithstanding all the terrors and privations of my wild life, there was a charm in it which is inexplicable; and I paused ere I parted with it. Men whose whole life has been identified with civilization may not understand this feeling; but long association with nature in her own scenes of unlimited grandeur and profuse bounty, cannot be broken off without a struggle. In return for all the blessings nature bestows on her children of the woods, she requires no sacrifice of liberty; free and unconstrained she permits them to roam throughout her domains; to robe or unrobe, as their taste may dictate; to rest when fatigued, and to rise when refreshed. Nature does not mask misery with the face of happiness, nor dress misfortune in the guise of prosperity; free and uncontrolled, her children are invited to help themselves at her munificent board; while in the narrow paths of civilized life, even the boasted reason of man is incapable of conferring happiness on society. But with the green grass and soft moss for a carpet, umbrageous trees for a shade, the murmuring stream for the ear, together with the sound of the breeze amongst the leaves to woo reflection, the syrens of vicious pleasure may be avoided, and the disquietudes of life be forgotten. Like a true citizen of the world, I had become enamoured with liberty, and with the instinct of a denizen of the forest, I shrank from the presence of man. My situation was perilous, death being inevitable if I remained in the tree; for in a short time sleep must overcome me, and in that state, I must fall into the waters beneath. Reluctantly, therefore, I dropped into the canoe, with the feelings of a bird who darts into a cage to escape the talons of the hawk--an incident, by the way, which once brought both the fugitive and the hawk into my trap. No captured African slave could feel the loss of liberty more than I did when the Indians assigned me a seat in the canoe, which proceeded to join a company consisting of eleven persons. They were a fishing party that had left their wonted haunts to avail themselves of the flood, a period when their efforts were generally rewarded with great success. One canoe was nearly filled with the product of the first draught, and they were in the act of drawing another as I appeared amongst them. They were all well-grown men, nearly naked, like myself, very placid in their demeanour, and showed great anxiety to relieve my distress, offering me food and drink. Indeed, their manners were so urbane and pleasing, that in a very short time I recovered from my depression of spirits, and congratulated myself on my good fortune in falling into their company. They wore large grass-platted hats to defend the head from the heat of the sun, and had each a hammock made of the same materials, which as night approached, they slung from the branches of trees, and calmly laid themselves down to survey the confusion of nature which the sudden inundation had occasioned. With the party was a youth about my own age, who at once attached himself to me; he manifested his disappointment and concern that he could not make himself understood by words, and in a very short time intimated his intention of undertaking my education by showing me the implements in use and calling them by name, till I not only recollected them, but acquired accuracy of pronunciation. [Sidenote: The Indian village] Two days subsequently to my rescue from the tree, I was taken to the Indian village, about ten miles from the border of the forest. It consisted of fifteen huts on an elevated spot, distant a half-mile from a fine river, which ebbed and flowed with the tide. It was this circumstance that had occasioned my embarrassment when following the stream and suddenly meeting with a contrary current. On my arrival at the village I was struck with the absence of curiosity or surprise which a stranger from another race generally excites, even in civilized localities. Neither men, women, or children appeared to bestow on me any peculiar notice, nor did they, as far as I could learn, express any desire to know how I came amongst them, or from whence I came. No overseer or other parish officer was called in to provide me with food and then dispute my right to eat. I was at once led to the hut of the father of my young friend, and received as one of the family, in which there were two wives and two families--one mother with three, and another with four children. Plurality of wives was the custom of this Indian community, and yet they lived in perfect harmony; there were no jealousies or bickerings; the progeny of each shared alike the affection and care of both mothers, who laboured with equal zeal in the culture of cassava or manioc, the roots of which they grated and made into bread. There were numerous tribes of these Indians, but they all spoke the same language. The tribe I was with were called Galibis; they were remarkable alike for their humanity and intelligence. Indeed, they possessed all the moral qualities of civilized society, without its forms and most of its vices, especially the one of coveting their neighbours' goods. [Sidenote: Habits of the Indians] During the time I was with them, a period of eighteen months, I never heard of a charge of theft. Land was as plentiful as air and water; there could not, therefore, be any motive to steal, if we except idleness,--a vice which prevails more in cities than in the wilds of nature. Numerous families sometimes live in one common large hut; yet there are no quarrels to disturb their harmony; and such is their hospitality that he who is fatigued with hunting may always depend on repose in the nearest dwelling. Their language is peculiarly harmonious, rich with synonyms, and is represented by those who have studied its grammatical construction, to be complicated and ingenious in syntax. Intelligent as they are, they have at all times rejected the arts and all instruction, from their great love of independence. The countenances of all are stereotyped with benevolence, and their conversation is fraught with maxims that inculcate the practice of charity to all the human race. They are not without a sense of pride, yet discourage it in practice. It requires no broker to make a written catalogue of their household furniture: their weapons are bows and arrows, and a short dart which they force through a reed with the breath, bringing down birds on the wing with surprising dexterity. A flat stone on which the women bake bread, and a rough one on which to grate the root of cassava; a hammock, a hatchet, a comb, and a broken piece of looking-glass in a rude frame, comprise the whole of their furniture. What few vessels they had were ill made,--not any improvement on those I formed from clay for the use of my aviary when in the woods. They have no code of laws, nor have they a word in the language by which to convey the idea of laws; yet they have the same word as in Hebrew to express God, by which they understand supreme master. They have a magistrate or elder, to whom any matter of disputation is referred, and by him summarily and finally settled. Fire they obtain by rubbing two pieces of wood together; and for cooking, this is made on the ground, over which they suspend their vessels in the rudest manner. Although these people wear no clothes, properly so called, they are very fond of ornaments; as amulets and charms, those obtained from the ivory-billed woodpecker were most in vogue. No people in the world, perhaps, are more remarkable for acute observation. If you name any kind of bird, or other animal, to them, that is to be found in this part of the globe, instantly they imitate its action and tones of voice. The notes of birds they give with surprising accuracy. They are very expert swimmers, and some of the women and children spend the chief of their time in the water. The men fish, and hunt, and when not so employed, which happens three or four days in the week, they remain in their hammocks, and amuse themselves with their implements, in the repairs of which, and in conversation, all their leisure is spent. They possess all the qualities to form good sportsmen, and to take the command of others--having great presence of mind and promptitude of action. I know not which most to admire, their skill in discovering game, or their manner of taking it. They entertain the loftiest sentiments of chivalrous honour, and their courage always rises with increasing difficulty; it "smiles in danger stern and wild," and is superior to circumstances. On the fourth day after my emancipation from the loneliness of the forest I accompanied a fishing party to the same spot from whence I had been taken. It was a favourite locality for hunting the ant-bear, and when the waters were out, for taking crabs and oysters, which were caught in large numbers among the trees and shrubs that were more or less covered by the flood. [Sidenote: The Great Spirit of the Indians] Under the assiduous tuition of my young friend, whose name was _Pecoe_, I rapidly progressed in a knowledge of his language, and could not refrain from making many reflections on his method of teaching as compared with my European schoolmaster's. Pecoe, I considered, had adopted a natural mode of instruction, while the system of the other was wholly artificial, and tedious in practice. My teacher was as anxious to be taught himself as to teach me, and when we were able to converse, asked ten thousand questions relative to my country and the state of society in it. Whether my long residence in the woods had disqualified me to be an advocate for the cause of civilization I know not, but at all my descriptions of it, Pecoe shook his head, and was evidently under an impression that my countrymen must be a very unhappy race of people. On one occasion, when conversing on our difference of colour, and on the human races generally, he said, "I will tell you how it happened: you know that there are three great spirits, all good, though each is greater than the other. The great spirit of all one day said to the lowest spirit, 'make a man, and let me see him.' The spirit took some clay and made a man; but when the Great Spirit saw him, he shook his head, and said he was too white. He then ordered the spirit next to himself in goodness to make a man, who tried his skill with charcoal--burnt wood; but the Great Spirit again shook his head, and said he was too black. The Great Spirit then determined to try himself, and taking some red earth, made the Indians, which pleased him very much." When I told him that the Great Spirit in his great goodness had so ordered it that every one should think his own colour the best, he replied, that it was not possible for either a black or a white man to be so stupid as to be satisfied with the colour of his skin, stigmatized as he, Pecoe, thought both races were, by barbarities. When I explained to him the various grades of civilized society, his quick apprehension broke out in the most indignant terms, denouncing the system as one dictated by a demon. Rich and poor! "What good," he asked, "could arise from allowing one to take all, and giving nothing to the other?" [Sidenote: Pecoe's ideas of society] I replied, that the wisdom of the Great Spirit (God) was recognised in his anticipation of the wisdom of man, by providing him with original principles of his own, which were given to regulate, not excite desires. Thus the sense of property is germinated in very early childhood, which sense I maintained generated a moral feeling, and a principle of justice and equity. My young friend, after a moment's thoughtful pause, stoutly gave the negative to my premises,--that the sense of property was developed in early life; he argued that the desire exhibited by children to handle things, and which we erroneously call a desire to possess them, is nothing more than a natural desire to exercise the physical senses on objects of the external world, through which only could they educate the powers of the body for healthful and manly purposes of life. Those things which some call children's playthings, he held to be _bonâ fide_ tools, without which, whether they were wooden horses, paper boats, a doll's head, or a piece of stick, they could no more rise out of a state of childhood than a man could go to sea without a canoe. He therefore denied the inference, that because children manifest a disposition to snatch or handle everything they can reach, it is an indication of natural acquisitiveness. The mind, he said, was wholly disengaged from these matters at an early age; employment for the organs of the five senses, together with an instinctive desire to promote their development, were the true causes of children quarrelling for possessions. He instanced their having no abiding attachment for any one particular toy, however expensive or attractively constructed, always casting away one thing to handle another, the various forms of which gave exercise to different muscles, and imparted new sensations of pleasure. The object I have in presenting my readers with a few of Pecoe's opinions is to illustrate the different ideas elicited in the minds of men by diverse circumstances of life and education. I scarcely need inform them that, in committing to paper my friend's notions, I have dressed them up in my own language. On this occasion Pecoe closed the conversation by remarking that the nature of society, such as I had depicted in England, appeared to charge the Great Spirit with having at some early period thrown upon the earth all His gifts in a heap, for a general scramble, on the condition that the posterity of those who succeeded in first picking them up should for ever live in idleness, and become the masters of the posterity of those whose ancestors had been unsuccessful in snatching from their fellow-men more than their own share. He continued: "It was hard to believe such a state of society could exist, and thought the Evil Spirit must have put it into my head;" meaning that I had drawn upon my own imagination for the sketch. The incomprehensible part of the system to Pecoe was, that some could be luxuriating in plenty and others be starving at the same time in one country. Warfare was unknown to his race, because the practice of good-will and the friendly offices of mutual assistance were universal among them, and annihilated every motive to aggrandisement, and consequently the disposition was never brought out. Bear in mind, reader, that I am describing no Utopia. When, therefore, I spoke of our numerous wars, and explained that it was those who had been unfortunate at the first general scramble, as he designated it, who risked their lives in battle, fighting for their wealthy masters, his incredulity rose so high as to doubt my veracity, and for some time subsequently I thought he seemed to shun my society, appearing very pensive and lonely in his habits. [Sidenote: Pecoe as a nurse] About a fortnight after the above conversation I was suddenly taken with violent symptoms of fever, when Pecoe was immediately by my side, assiduously attending to all my wants with the tenderness of a nurse. The physician, or pee-ay-man, was applied to, who offered up prayers to the Bad Spirit for my recovery;--for it is a part of their creed that the Good Spirit is too good to do any one harm, and therefore it is the Malicious Spirit that must be conciliated. For this purpose a number of incantations were performed, after which the physician continued to parade from hut to hut, howling and performing another series of incantations throughout the night, at intervals calling to see if any improvement had taken place in the health of his patient. As it was the practice of every family to burn a fire through the night, I could from my hammock see this juggler stalking to and fro, looking more like a demon than a minister of comfort in sickness. Pecoe proved the best physician. He never left me, continuing to administer comfort to me in every possible way and manner. Among other services he relieved me, at my request, from the mummeries of the pee-ay-man, aptly urging that, as the spirits of my country were not the same as theirs, he might by his interference make them angry instead of conciliating them. But the women, who really felt an interest in my fate, were not so easily satisfied, they placed implicit reliance on the skill of the pee-ay-man, and were angry with Pecoe for sending him away. "Never mind," said he, coolly, to some remarks that censured his conduct, "I am as good a doctor as he is; and if I am hot, don't the Great Spirit brush away the flies from the animal without a tail?" My disease grew worse, and rapidly hastened to its crisis. Pecoe in every stage sought for new sources of comfort: he collected silk-grass, and daily made new pillows for my head, when they were wetted with the cold water he applied to my temples. He constantly moistened my lips with slices of pineapple, only occasionally leaving me, to go in search of the jelly cocoa-nut, which in an unripe state has but a thin skin, but contains more liquor. As the fever subsided, these grateful draughts contributed much towards my recovery, and without doubt hastened the period of final restoration to health, when I said to my friend, "You may now set up as physician to the tribe, and supersede the pee-ay-man." The remark brought a smile from his lips, as he replied, "I have not such a mean spirit as to endure to be laughed at by all the people. Do you, then, really believe that these pretenders to superior knowledge are esteemed, or that any in the place have faith in their arts?" "If not," said I, "why tolerate them, and why not apply to the Great and Good Spirits themselves for help?" [Sidenote: Pecoe's prudence] "Why!" rejoined Pecoe, "because too many like deception more than honesty, and prefer listening to falsehood rather than to truth. My father and all his friends have secretly laughed at the impostor all their days, yet in public give him countenance, and also frown on the children who would doubt the efficacy of his tricks, or his ability to solve dreams and foretell events. I myself," he continued, "sometimes doubt my right to disregard the proffered services of these men. This arises, perhaps, from the general countenance they have from all the tribes, and the force of custom; for I seldom give myself the trouble to investigate their claim to respect; I endure their arts, because the majority patronise them, though I never open my lips in their defence. It is an ungracious task to make yourself more wise than your neighbours; even if you should be successful, you must inevitably make enemies without gaining new friends, people do not like to be told that they have been in error all their lives, or to believe that their forefathers were foolishly credulous." CHAPTER VI. FURTHER ACCOUNT OF THE INDIANS--I ARRIVE AT MY FATHER'S FARM. "What fancied zone can circumscribe the soul, Who, conscious of the source from whence she springs, By Reason's light, or Resolution's wings, Spite of her frail companion, dauntless goes O'er Libya's deserts, and through Zembla's snows? She bids each slumb'ring energy awake,-- Another touch, another temper take; Suspends th' inferior laws that rule o'er clay. The stubborn elements confess her sway; Man's little wants his low desires refine, And raise the mortal to a height divine." Notwithstanding the darkness in which my friend Pecoe had been brought up, I was impressed with the notion that his soul was sufficiently alive to receive the great truths of Christianity. I therefore resolved again to introduce the subject, and make an effort to engross his attention. I commenced by impressing on his mind that my countrymen were a race acknowledged to be inferior to none other, and that they worshipped only One Great Spirit, the Maker of the heavens and the earth, together with all things visible and invisible. He surprised me by admitting that these things had engaged much of his attention, and that his mind was now made up on the question; his conviction being that the heavens and the earth had existed from eternity, and would continue the same to eternity. I explained to him that nothing endured for ever but the power of God; that all things were constantly undergoing a process of change; that the globe we inhabited had a beginning, and, consequently, like inferior bodies, would have an end; that God permitted the dissolution of one body, and the birth of another, at periods appointed, to the end that the whole of his designs might arrive at perfection, and no absolute loss be sustained. Pecoe heard me out with great patience, then shook his head, and enquired how it came that my father should know better than his? When, however, I spoke of the existence of the soul in another and better world, and endeavoured to illustrate that certainty by saying, in the dissolution of bodies nothing perished but their forms, and that the soul when it abdicated its decaying vessel, the body, was translated to another, and a purer state of existence, he evidently looked on me as being insane. [Sidenote: Attempts at conversion] I was disappointed,--was vexed at my inability to awaken him to a sense of what all mankind, more or less, in some form, have acknowledged, namely, a future state of existence. I now urged that all human beings were sensible of relations not subject to the senses, and therefore possessed sensibilities distinct from the body. That they could compare, and therefore had judgment; that they retained, and therefore have memory; that they possessed freedom of choice, and therefore have will. I then said, if to these we add instinct, there are five faculties of the soul; adding, Reason compares those ideas immediately transmitted to the memory; imagination is the same faculty exercised on the same objects differently combined, having no similitude in nature. "These," replied Pecoe, "are all your own thoughts." Having from early infancy been accustomed, both morning and evening, to offer up my prayers to God, and having, when in the wilds of nature, found in this practice much solace, I did not fail while with the Indians to continue the custom; yet none of the people had hitherto taken any notice of my devotion. At length Pecoe inquired my motives, asking what I expected to gain by the practice. I replied, that we had all daily wants, and that in the morning I petitioned the Great Spirit--my God---to supply them, and that in the evening I returned thanks for the protection and supplies I had received. I further explained, that prayer was the voice of sin to Him who alone can pardon it; that it was the petition of poverty, the prostration of humility, the confidence of trust, the feeling of helplessness, and the compunctions of the soul. All this I put in the most simple form of language, and I have reason to think that he fully understood the feeling I endeavoured to convey. Notwithstanding, he asked me whether I had not food enough to eat, and what it was the Evil Spirit had made me do that troubled me so much? [Sidenote: Conversation on prayer] In vain did I labour to impress his mind with a sense of the necessity there is for all to worship the Giver of life and all other blessings, and that by intreating the One God to protect us, the value of his gifts was enhanced, and that there was an inexpressible delight in committing ourselves to the care and guidance of one who is infinitely able to protect us in the right path. "The Spirit," said he, "is good, and will do nothing wrong--he will not listen to what you tell him." I replied by saying that we could not tell God of anything that he did not already know, and that prayer and thanksgiving were due from us all to one so beneficent. I then explained to him that his condition of darkness in religious matters was once the condition of all mankind, and that it was only by reflection, and the intercommunication of minds, that the little light our forefathers possessed was obtained, until at length God sent his only Son to reveal the truth to us. I then repeated the Lord's Prayer, and promised to teach it to him in his own language if he would use it. He replied that he must have time to consider of it. A few days after he requested that I would not talk in that way any more to him, adding, that they were all my own sayings, meaning they were things of my own invention. "You have consulted your father," said I. He acknowledged that he had, laughing at the same time, as if I had been a subject of their ridicule. Up to that moment I had flattered myself that I should have been spiritually of service to him, and perhaps through him, to more of his race. His father, however, was an enemy to civilized man, and inimical to innovations of every kind. It appeared from a traditional story, which Pecoe subsequently related me, that at some former period these people had been visited by a party of missionaries, the particulars of which I an induced to give, as a caution to gentlemen who labour in such arduous undertakings as those of converting heathens to Christianity. "Some white men," said Pecoe, "came here a long time since, and brought strange talk about the Great Spirit and his Son, (that is, about our blessed Saviour), to which our people agreed to listen, upon condition, that every time they attended they should receive a bottle of rum. They did attend," continued Pecoe, "but in a short time the white men wanted them to come and listen for nothing, and so broke their contract." Scrupulously punctual to their own engagements, the Indians, immediately on the withholding of the rum, took a prejudice against the missionaries, which no subsequent conduct on the part of the latter could remove, or perhaps will ever efface from the memory of the former. Thus has a stumblingblock been placed in the way of all future adventurers among them in the cause of Christianity. As soon as I was made acquainted with these particulars, I resolved to undertake the defence of the missionaries' conduct, and at least, lessen the prejudice against them. With this view, I availed myself of the first large assemblage of the natives, and opened the subject by inquiring how long it was since the white men had visited them, which way they came, and lastly, by what road they returned? suggesting, that perhaps the same road might lead me to a European colony, where I might have a chance of hearing from my friends. [Sidenote: Defence of the missionaries] An aged Indian replied to these inquiries, adding, that he had no great opinion of the white men who came there; and on asking how they had conducted themselves, he related the story in nearly the same words as I had heard it from Pecoe. I then explained the good intentions of the persons who subscribed money to spread the truths of the gospel, and the great sacrifices made by those who consented to give up the charms of civilized life for the good of the poor unenlightened heathen. I then went on to say, that with respect to the presents of rum, it was natural, after the missionaries had taken the trouble to study their language, and to travel so far, to adopt any means to secure a hearing, without which, no good could possibly accrue to the objects of their mission. Although, I continued, they might at first hold out some inducement to be heard, yet it was unreasonable to expect that persons so far away from home and their resources could continue to find the means of making repeated presents in order to tempt persons to their own good. When I had finished, some of the Indians laughed, others shook their heads, indicating disapprobation, and a hint that I had better be silent. Upon the whole, though I pushed the matter somewhat strongly, I failed in making any impression on the auditors. With regard to natural objects, I question if there be a more acute and observing people in the whole world; yet they are wholly a people of feelings, being evidently deficient in intellect. Their imagination and understanding are both at a low ebb, as I could never extend their ideas beyond their own path of life. At times I gave Pecoe credit for possessing a more lively imagination than others of his tribe; but as I knew more of him, this impression died away. In the highly cultivated walks of society, manhood is the period when the feelings are predominant. Imagination prevails in youth, and the understanding in old age. These people are in the middle stage of progress; and as they possess the purest moral notions of right and wrong, cannot be incapable of receiving the truths of revealed religion. The highest degree of moral elevation can only be attained by carefully cherishing the more benevolent and kindlier feelings of nature; that is, by cultivating the good passions, and throwing into disuse the bad ones. The Indians with whom I lived, effected these objects in a very high degree; for I never saw an instance of any violent exhibition of temper among them, and it was always a matter of astonishment to me to see how exceeding tractable their children were without severity on the part of the parents. In the moral sense of the word, they were good; and if they had been Christians, would have been deemed examples for more refined nations. "A good man, and an angel! these between, How thin the barrier? What divides their fate? Perhaps a moment, or perhaps a year; Or, if an age, it is a moment still." The following anecdote will not only illustrate the kind feelings of the Indian's heart, but also exhibit his delicacy in bestowing a favour. I had for some time been uneasy at not being able to contribute, by my exertions, a fair share towards the provisions of the common stock of those with whom I resided; and this uneasiness was frequently expressed to Pecoe, the principal difficulty being the want of a canoe--for these vessels were not constructed in general to carry more than one person; I was thus precluded from sharing in the daily excursions on the water. [Sidenote: Gift of a canoe] Pecoe, as I have said, knew that I felt this want, and one morning surprised and delighted me, after a walk in the woods, where he pointed out the silk cotton tree as the material out of which they made canoes. "Why," exclaimed he, as he took a turn towards an inlet of the great river, "here is a canoe already made for you; come, help me to launch it, and let us see how it fits you when afloat." I had recently, for several long intervals, missed him, and having, when inquiring the cause of his absence, received equivocal replies, I thought it was occasioned by some duty connected with his family, and had in consequence forborne to notice it again. He had, however, been in the wood, fashioning a canoe for my use, being the most valuable present he could, at that juncture, have made me; and the manner in which he conducted the matter, considerably enhanced its value. I was now as rich in property as any of the natives, whose ambition seldom soars beyond the possession of a canoe and a stock of hunting and fishing implements, which my friend Pecoe did not forget to provide with the canoe. My health being perfectly restored, I now joined in all the sports followed by the natives, having previously, at Pecoe's earnest solicitation, learned to swim. Time ran on smoothly, the morning invited me to the woods (my natural home) to hunt for game. "On a sweet shining morning, thus drawn out, It seem'd what man was made for, to look round And trace the full brook, that, with clamorous route, O'er fallen trees and roots, black curling, wound Through glens, with wild brakes scatter'd all about." The days did not linger in their progress, nor did night arrive too soon, the changes being all attended with enjoyments. "Night bringeth sleep To the forest deep, The forest bird to its nest, To care, bright hours, And dreams of flowers, And that balm to the weary--rest." Discontent is man's great enemy. I believe that, constitutionally, I was fitted to enjoy any station to which the Almighty, in his wisdom, might call me; yet even contentment may be carried to an extreme, and degenerate into apathy, or the want of a healthful spirit into indolence. Soft leisure hath her charms, and the bliss of her votaries is to bask in summer rays through the day under the greenwood tree; but however soothing or pleasant this may be to the reflective mind, the common duties of life should not be neglected. I had parents, relations, and friends, all of whom had more or less been rendered unhappy by my loss in the woods; and I now became impressed with a notion that I had not been sufficiently active in using means for my restoration. I had indeed escaped the mazes of the forest by the inundation--an event in which the hand of Providence was conspicuous; for had not the flood-gates of the firmament been opened, I might still have remained in my forest prison. I now asked myself why I did not stir and exert all the energies the same Providence had bestowed on me, to reach the nearest European colony and seek advice as to the proper mode of proceeding to discover the home of my parents. All my moments of leisure were now filled up with self-reproaches. The deep solitude of the woods, I thought, had enchanted me, and now the wild charm of a free and roving life was weaning me from duty. These were errors which, I thought, demanded a rigid retribution; yet at intervals I was in no want of excuses to extenuate my conduct. I reflected on the extraordinary flexibility of our nature, which accommodates and adapts itself to all circumstances; and, that the reality of our existence is the present moment, the exigencies of which are inimical to prudent resolutions. Of man's generic character there is much yet to be written; the change of climate, food, scenery, society, together with a thousand contingent circumstances that follow in their train, all produce effects unappreciable by those whose lives have been bounded by one circle. Of all animals, man best endures the changes of food and climate. It therefore follows that his physical construction is more changeable; but in proportion as the body undergoes a change, and adapts itself to the circumstances of its situation, so will the feelings, temper, and mind also undergo some change, and more or less affect the character of the individual. [Sidenote: Forgetfulness of home] In reference to my own case, and the experience derived from it, this is the best solution I can give of the passive submission with which I accommodated myself to the manner of life into which my waywardness had cast me. If we pass from man to the influence of climate on other animals, the effect on dogs is very remarkable. In Kamtschatka, instead of the dog being faithful and attached to his master, he is full of deceit and treachery; he does not bark in the hot parts of Africa, nor in the extreme cold countries of the north; in Greenland he loses his fitness for hunting and his character for docility. If this subject were pursued, it might be added that the African slaves, when removed from their own country to the West Indies, undergo a marked change of character. The American settlers too, have changed in character since their first settlement in that country, as also have the Anglo-New Hollanders. The temperate zones appear to be the most favoured regions for the full development of the human powers, whether physical or moral, especially of the principle of sympathy, that vicegerent of the divine benevolence in our world, which is capable of binding up all the wounds that sin and death have introduced into it. As we are all, however, too much swayed by the considerations of pleasure and pain, it is probable, that had I been cast into regions subject to a rigorous winter, I should have been more anxious to have escaped from the forest. Perpetual summer, however, beguiled me from my resolution, and being unprovided with a defence against ease and indolence, years passed on while I was only dreaming of home and friends. The hand of Providence, notwithstanding, continued over me, and in a miraculous manner took me from savage life. The sun's departing red rays were shining on the surface of the river, as Pecoe, myself, and three other youths were hastening in our canoes to reach home before night should set in, when I heard the stroke of oars, that indicated the approach of a boat's crew. I have before said that an inexplicable feeling came over me whenever I thought that I was in approximation with those who might be the means of conveying me again into civilized life. On this occasion I was for the moment paralysed. Pausing to assure myself of the reality of the sounds, I heard Pecoe and his companions calling to me to pull towards the opposite shore, from whence the sounds proceeded, and turning round to ascertain the direction they were pursuing, I caught sight of a long-boat, manned with ten sailors, just turning a point of land which had hitherto screened them from my view. The Indians were still calling to me, but it was too late. With the usual celerity of British sailors, the boat in a few seconds was abreast of my canoe. The officer who commanded the crew pulled my canoe aft, and after scrutinizing my countenance, ejaculated, "The boatswain is right--an European; but not, as he supposed, a runaway convict; it's the wrong latitude for that kind of fish;" continuing, "Come, young man, step into our boat: we are in want of some information with which you may furnish us." [Sidenote: Impressed on board an English ship] I hesitated, then made some reply in English, when one of the sailors exclaimed, "I told Tom that he was a Briton." "I am glad I have met with a countryman," resumed the officer, who held the canoe fast as he offered his hand to assist me into his own boat; but as I still hesitated, he affected to stumble, and in the action drew me over the bow of the canoe, which constrained me either to jump into the ship's boat or fall into the river. When seated beside the lieutenant, I had in some measure recovered from my surprise; I inquired whether the practice of pressing in the British navy was revived. "It is not," replied the lieutenant, "but I shall feel myself justified in detaining you until I have the particulars of your history, and learn especially what brought you into this part of the world." All this time the boat was proceeding down the river, and had carried me out of sight of my Indian friends. When I informed the officer that I had been lost when a boy, he replied-- "Then you are now found; but have you a knowledge of this river?" "From hence upwards I have," said I. "having accompanied the Indians in their farthest migrations." "Make your mind easy," rejoined the officer, "I shall introduce you to the captain of our brig." It appeared that the boat had been sent out by a government brig which was on a survey in the river Amazon, to ascertain the course of one of its tributaries. Late in the evening of the following day we reached the ship, and when my story had been heard by the captain, he at once determined on taking me with him, saying that he should find means of sending me to Berbice, the point, he judged, from which my father had started, and to which place he thought it probable my father would in the first instance transmit an account of my having been lost; and where also it was likely some arrangement had been made for providing me with the means of finding my way to his residence. The brig remained two months on the survey, and then sailed for Halifax, crossing the Mexican bay, where I had an opportunity of witnessing the extraordinary phenomena produced by a large body of fish that at one time surrounded the vessel. The sea was like one field of fireworks, all sparkling with serpents and silver spangles; the mind, when contemplating such scenes, is lost in amazement at the prodigious number of living things the regions of the sea contain. But whether the naturalist turns to the woods and the water, or explores the cloud-capt mountains, the sequestered cave, or the rocky cliffs, he will at first be embarrassed at the sight of the variety of objects that claim his attention; and it is only by learning how to distinguish them in a methodical manner that the mind can be brought to contemplate them in detail. On board the vessel I was supplied with a sailor's dress, but the force of habit was so strong that for a considerable time I could not wear it with any comfort to myself. The captain was faithful to his promise, and from Halifax sent me in a merchant vessel to Demerara, with a letter addressed to the British consul at that station. On my arrival I presented myself before that authority, who the next day produced a colonial newspaper in which I had seven years previously been advertised, and a reward offered for my recovery, and in which also the name of an agent was mentioned who would defray any costs incurred on the occasion. [Sidenote: Return to society] Fortunately that gentleman was still in the colony, who, after satisfying himself of my identity, promised to avail himself of the earliest opportunity to restore me to my family. The location of my father's property was on the remote banks of a branch of the Amazon river, to which few vessels traded, there was therefore no possibility of reaching it otherwise than overland, as the family had previously done. For some time after my arrival in Demerara, I found myself an object of interest, receiving invitations from most of the respectable inhabitants; while my appearance in the streets excited a sensation. Although I was much pleased with the opportunity of attending public worship, where I might collect and concentrate the scattered ideas I retained of my father's faith, yet the ceremonies and forms of society appeared ridiculous to me, and were very irksome. [Sidenote: First sight of home] [Sidenote: The brother and sister] [Sidenote: Rengal] I received marked attention and kindness from the gentleman who had been advertised as my father's agent, and an opportunity soon occurred for him to place me under safe escort to my home. Two gentlemen were about to journey near to where my father resided, and they kindly undertook my safe conveyance. They were entrusted with a letter from the agent to my father, which was to be delivered into no other hands but his own. I can scarcely describe my delight when all was in readiness for our departure and we set out on our journey. My feelings of impatience grew more uncontrollable every day. The thoughts of home and the prospect of again beholding all I held dear on earth made my passage appear a lifetime;--tedious and protracted as it was I shall pass it over now, as it had no incident that was at all attractive to me--until we arrived at the Amazon River, whose clear surface I hailed with indescribable delight, as I knew then we were not far from my father's estate. Following its course for a day we arrived towards the afternoon at a plantation of cotton, the proprietor of which informed me that we were within two miles of my father's house. He had heard the particulars of my absence, but declined to comply with my request to go and inform the family of my arrival. The reason he assigned was that he had lately been engaged in a dispute with my father, and therefore could not undertake my mission--adding that the alteration in my appearance, living as I had from the age of thirteen to twenty in the wilderness, would be sufficient to prevent them from recognising me at first. I then inquired for my uncles, and was informed that one had sold his land and returned to England, and that the other (the widower) was dead. This unchristian man also informed me that, in his opinion, I had been given up as entirely lost by my family. As the day was advancing, I waited no longer to hold converse with him, but abruptly turned away, disgusted with his apathy and want of feeling. As we proceeded towards my home, I consulted with the two gentlemen who were my guides what course to adopt in breaking the intelligence of my return, to my family, as I felt a dread of presenting myself too precipitately after so long an absence, being naturally fearful that the shock would be more than my mother could sustain. We deemed it prudent, therefore, to send the letter by one of my guides, while I waited the result close by. Our precautions, however, were not carried into effect, as an incident occurred which rendered them unnecessary. I had arrived in sight of my father's habitation, and paused on a slight eminence to contemplate with mingled feelings of surprise, delight, and fear, the spot made sacred by the affections which were centred there, with all the ties which bound me to the world--that spot which, from the meanest to the noblest in every land, is the only haven of refuge from the troubles and travail in this life, and which finds a ready response in every heart by the one magic word--home! I had not felt its cheering influence for now more than six years. An outcast and a wanderer for that period, how often in the loneliness of my forest life had I yearned to be again restored to it, and to find, like the dove of old, a place of refuge and rest--an ark, and a covenant. But now, as the fruition of my hopes appeared to be realized, I paused, spell-bound and overpowered by the many conflicting feelings which the sight of it had conjured up. The memory of all the incidents of my early life--the days of childhood--the school-boy troubles--the many acts of parental kindness evinced in a thousand ways--were all pictured to my sight in one rapid glance. And then the terrible foreboding presented itself, that I might not find my family circle as I had left them--alive and in health. In the history of the world six years is but a speck of time; but with individuals the case is widely different. I had lost one uncle, and the fear came across me that my loss might not be ended thus. I almost dreaded to make the inquiry, as I felt incapable of bearing such a calamity. It was a beautiful mansion which lay before me. The large and well-built house, surrounded with thick foliage--the carefully cultivated grounds surrounding it--the broad and extensive landscape beyond of richly wooded hill and dale--the wide and meandering river by whose banks I had been guided thither--gave to the scene a lofty grandeur. While standing thus irresolute, a young man of some five or six and twenty was advancing towards us; he had on his arm a female, with whom he appeared to be chatting familiarly. I watched them as they came near us, and from the young man's appearance judged him to be one of the settlers here. As they approached, I heard their voices more distinctly. That of the female fell upon my ear in well remembered tones. There could be no mistaking them, I knew it to be the voice of my sister. But ah! how changed she was. The laughing merry girl had grown into a staid and matronly woman. I could hardly believe it possible; but to assure myself, I inquired of her companion if that was the residence of Mr. Howard. My sister started as I spoke, turned pale, and looked at me intently. I suppose I was changed; indeed, there was but little doubt of that--but changed as I was, she could not be deceived. She trembled, and would have fallen, had I not caught her in my arms in a fond embrace. The first surprise over, she laughed and cried by turns, and overwhelmed me with caresses. Then the numberless inquiries she had to make! One after the other in such rapid succession, without waiting for replies. I know not what the three spectators of the scene must have thought; but no doubt they deemed her frantic, and, indeed, for the time, I believe she was. My first inquiry was about my parents. They were both well. She had left them a few minutes previously. Her companion she introduced to me as her husband. She told me, also, that she had two children, a little boy and girl. We arranged our plan, if it could be called arrangement, where all was mad delight; she insisted that my two guides should go home with her husband for that evening, as his house was close by, and deliver the letter in the morning, while she and myself went home to our parents. When we had arrived at the house, I detained her from entering until I had peeped in at the window to take a glance at its inmates. There was a light in the interior, and I could observe all distinctly. I saw my father seated in a comfortable apartment, quite unconscious of any one observing them. My father was reading aloud one of the local papers. He wore spectacles; I remember to have been struck with this, otherwise, my mother and he were not at all changed. The same as I had left them--the old familiar faces, remembered from earliest childhood--the old familiar faces, it made a child of me again to gaze on them. Presently my sister entered, and from her hurried manner and sudden return, they seemed surprised. She said something, I did not know what, but my father rose, and hastily throwing down the paper, gazed wonderingly on my sister. I waited no longer--another moment--I was on my knees before my mother, buried in her embrace. She wept over me, her truant boy, tears of joy. Who of us has not felt the depth and purity of a mother's love? Who hath not found, be his errors what they might, that there was one gentle spirit to turn to, ever ready to pardon, protect, and solace? I felt the force of this doubly then. And now, when past the meridian of my life, I look back through the long vista of the past, the self-devotedness of a mother's love shines forth as something "which lighted up my way of life," never to be forgotten. My father could scarcely find utterance, from excess of joy at my return. I recounted to him a brief summary of all I had gone through since I had been lost, and half that night was passed in the details of my story. My sister did not return to her own home till the following morning, when I accompanied her. Another surprise awaited me. I saw Rengal and his father working on our estate. They had become devoted and trustworthy servants of the family, being employed as free labourers. It seemed that my father had instituted a vigorous search for me, and had engaged them many months for that purpose, believing their acquaintance with the country would be of infinite service in the undertaking. Their labours, however, proved fruitless, as my reader already knows. Ultimately, pleased with their faithful conduct, and evident anxiety to accomplish my restoration, he engaged them as assistants on his farm, where they had remained ever since. Their surprise and extravagant delight when I made myself known, exceeded all bounds; and although, perhaps, I compromised my dignity, I was obliged, in spite of myself, to burst out into a fit of immoderate laughter. There was a degree of comicality about these people which was perfectly irresistible, the more so, as they could not at all comprehend it themselves. The old negro informed me that he had discovered his daughter, and my sister's husband had purchased her freedom, and engaged her as a domestic in his house. * * * * * Many years have rolled on since the incidents described in this narrative occurred. Time has been busy with his ceaseless works and wondrous changes. Our little settlement has now sprung up into a large and thriving city, in whose streets are seen a throng of busy men. Our river bears upon its bosom many argosies freighted with the merchandise of every clime. Our meadows are ploughed into furrows by the hand of the skilful husbandman, and returning autumn sees them laden with the products of cultivated nature. The giant, steam, is made a slave to man. and is seen at work on the mill--the mine--the forge--and rail; and everywhere marks of the master spirit, industry, are visible in our town. For myself, I am rich in the possession of all the blessings of domestic life, with an amiable and loving partner and dutiful children. I am respected as a thriving merchant, and I hope as a worthy friend. My parents, I am happy to say, still cheer me with their presence and advice; and if this, the narrative of my earlier years, should awaken the youthful mind to a sense of self-reliance and dependence under all trials and vicissitudes, and make manifest the bounteous providence of a wise and beneficent Creator, my labours will not have been spent in vain. THE END. [Transcriber's note: In this etext, the source book's variant page headings have been converted to sidenotes and positioned where most logical.] 
33187	----	scanned images of public domain material from the Internet Archive. [Illustration: Book Cover] POPULAR BOOKS BY ARTHUR HORNBLOW John Marsh's Millions Fifth Large Edition The struggle of a young girl, heiress to millions, to protect her rights. "Has many thrilling dramatic situations."--_St. Louis Post-Dispatch._ The Third Degree 70th Thousand A brilliant novelization of Charles Klein's great play. "A strongly-painted picture of certain conditions in the administration of law and justice."--_Philadelphia Record._ By Right of Conquest 100th Thousand A thrilling story of shipwreck, upon a deserted island, of a millionaire's daughter and a common stoker. "A sensational situation handled with delicacy and vigor."--_Boston Transcript._ The End of the Game 75th Thousand A love story of deep human interest, dealing with the perils of great wealth. "A thoroughly wholesome book, with action in the drama and real human interest."--_Literary Digest._ The Profligate 60th Thousand A modern rake's progress and thrilling story of love, mystery and adventure. "The moral tone of the story is excellent."--_Baltimore Sun._ The Lion and the Mouse 180th Thousand A brilliant novelization of Charles Klein's tremendously popular play. "Mr. Hornblow, in the novel, has given something quite as interesting, quite as fascinating, as Mr. Klein has in his play."--_Boston Transcript._ [Illustration: WHAT RIGHT HAD HE TO ACCOST HER? _Frontispiece. Chap. XVII. Page 282._] BY RIGHT OF CONQUEST a Novel BY ARTHUR HORNBLOW Author of "The Profligate," "The End of the Game," "The Lion and the Mouse" (from the play), etc. [Illustration] Illustrations by ARCHIE GUNN and CHARLES GRUNWALD G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY PUBLISHERS NEW YORK _Copyright, 1909,_ BY G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY. CONTENTS. Chapter Page I 7 II 31 III 57 IV 66 V 84 VI 95 VII 113 VIII 125 IX 142 X 161 XI 184 XII 199 XIII 213 XIV 233 XV 247 XVI 256 XVII 276 XVIII 284 XIX 298 XX 305 XXI 314 XXII 334 ILLUSTRATIONS. Page What right had he to accost her? _Frontispiece_ 282 It was all they could do to drag him on board 54 Never in his life had he beheld a woman so fair 147 "No--you're not! I'm going with you" 351 CHAPTER I. In a dark, dirty, foul-smelling room back of a small ship-chandler's store on West Street, four sailormen were seated at a table, drinking, quarreling, cursing. The bottle from which they had imbibed too freely contained a villainous compound that ensured their host a handsome profit, set their brains afire, and degraded them to the level of the beast. Not that their condition in life was much better than that of the dumb brute. Animals often enjoy more creature comforts, are better housed and more kindly treated. They were not really sailors, for in their long experience on the high seas they had never reefed a sail or hauled on a rope. Only too often they never got so much as a glimpse of God's blue sky or the immense stretches of tumbling, foaming ocean. They were the galley-slaves of modern seagoing--the stokers, the men with oily skin and heat-bleared eyes, who toil naked in the bowels of the giant steamship, each crew doing its "watch" of four hours in a dark pit at the bottom of the huge vessel, deprived of air and sunlight, firemen and trimmers working feverishly in a maddening temperature of 140 degrees and over, thrusting and pulling with rod and rake in the insatiable maw of the raging furnace. The hot blasts scorch the men's faces and blister their skins, yet they are compelled to keep up the furious pace. They must never slacken, for on their muscles and their nerves depend the speed of the ship and the prestige of the line. So they shovel faster and faster, tirelessly, endlessly, the flying coal-dust settling on their sweating faces and bare bodies until they lose semblance to anything human and recall those lurid pictures of the Inferno in which Satan's imps, armed with pitch-forks, thrust back shrieking sinners, condemned to everlasting torment, who are struggling to escape from the bottomless pit. That the luxurious liner may break a record and retain the patronage of the millionaire passengers reclining indolently on the promenade-decks above, the unknown, unseen slaves in the hellish regions below must shovel, shovel, shovel, always faster, faster until at last nature gives way. Exhausted by fatigue, overcome by the killing heat, the man falls headlong. They pick him up and carry him on deck, where the pure air may or may not revive him. Perhaps he is already dead. His filthy, almost unearthly appearance chills the sympathies of the fastidious cabin passengers. Who is he? What's happened? "Only a stoker!" yawns some one, and all go unconcernedly down to dinner. * * * * * The time passed and the men still loafed in the chandler's shop, drinking and arguing. The day was already advanced, the active, busy world without summoned them urgently to duty, at noon their ship would cast off her moorings and steam majestically out to sea, and yet the four firemen sat idly in the evil-smelling den, noisy in drunken argument--all but one man, a big, athletic-looking fellow, who drank in sullen silence. Occasionally one of them would stop and glance furtively in the direction of the street, as if apprehensive that an unwelcome visitor might suddenly put in an appearance. But no one disturbed them, not even Schmalz, the proprietor of the place, a fat, tousled-headed German, who found his customers too profitable to quarrel with. As fast as bottles were emptied, he replaced them, and that he sold liquor without going through the formalities of procuring a license was evident from his catlike movements, the absence of any outward signs of the clandestine traffic, and his extreme care to keep the inner room and its occupants well secluded from observation. The outer shop was typical of the many nautical stores of its kind scattered along New York's waterfront. It contained everything a sailor needs, from yellow oilskins, thick woolen socks, and blue jerseys to fried herrings, pickles, and mustard plasters. The atmosphere was heavy with an agglomeration of different and conflicting smells--fish, tar, paint, garbage, and stale tobacco. From time to time customers dropped in, and Schmalz, shrewd and urbane, exercised his talents inducing them to buy, the while keeping one cautious eye on his open money-drawer, the other on his boisterous patrons in the inner room. From the street came refreshing whiffs of salty air and the roar of heavy traffic rolling along the busy thoroughfare. Trucks groaning and creaking under mountains of merchandise, cabs filled with travelers and piled high with baggage, slowly threading their way in and out to trains and steamers, rickety horse-cars, crowded to the guard-rails, hucksters' push-carts, piled high with decaying fruit, bewildered immigrants, fresh from the Old World, nimble commuters from the suburbs hurrying to and from the ferries--all these, men, horses, and vehicles were tangled up in seeming hopeless confusion. Along the water's edge, where the four-mile line of docks sheltered the world's shipping, arose a forest of ship-masts, with here and there gigantic funnels of ocean liners, belching smoke as they made ready for their journey to the sea. From mid-river came the shrill tooting of mosquito-like tugs, and the churning sound of ferry-boats as they glided from shore to shore. "Naw, Jack, my boy, it's too blarsted risky," said decisively one of the four, a short, stocky man, with a pock-marked face and cockney accent. "'Tain't no good arguin' an' chewin' the rag any longer, ye know. I won't do it, an' that's all there's to it." "Shorty's dead right," spoke up another of the men, as he drained his glass. "We'd be caught, sure as yer name's Jack Armitage." "Bah!" grunted the third man. "Wot's the good of kickin'? If it isn't one thing, it's another--so wot's the use?" The foregoing remarks were directed principally at the big, straight-limbed fellow who sat at the table in sullen silence, his face buried in his folded arms. He vouchsafed no answer to his comrades' arguments. Lifting his head, he turned his bloodshot eyes on them, and, as if to show his utter contempt for their opinion, he shrugged his massive shoulders and, picking up the whiskey-bottle, refilled his glass. Apparently a few years younger than his associates, he was a clean-cut, good-looking fellow with a smooth face, and regular features, and there was something in his manner, an air of authority in the toss of his head, which suggested that he might be fashioned of a different clay, yet his grimy skin and oil-stained, coal-blackened clothes indicated that his condition of life was the same. His eyes were red from drinking and there were grim lines about his mouth that prompted his companions to leave him to himself. They knew their customer. In the stokers' forecastle Jack Armitage had made himself quickly known as a man whom it was unwise to monkey with. Directly he joined the ship, he gave them to understand that clearly. The cock of the boiler-room, a bully who had heretofore run things to suit himself, rashly started an argument with the newcomer, and before he knew what had hit him, he was a fit subject for the hospital. Quick to admire physical strength, his comrades respected Armitage after that episode, and they nicknamed him Gentleman Jack, because his English was straighter than theirs and because he appeared to have known better days. Sometimes they hailed him as "Handsome," because of his shape, regular features and wavy hair. Of his history they knew nothing, and seeing that he was moody and uncommunicative, no one ventured to arouse his wrath by asking questions that he might consider too personal. Besides, no one cared. There's no "Who's Who?" in a steamer's stoke-hold. A natural refuge for the scum of the cities--for those wanted by the police as well as for those who have failed--even a detective will hesitate to follow his quarry into the red jaws of hell itself. To this, as much as anything else, the stoke-hold owes its reputation as the modern Sanctuary. So they let Armitage alone. He did his "shift" along with the rest, gaining promotion first as coal-passer, then as trimmer, then as fireman. His services were valued because of his great strength and power of endurance. He could go on raking and pulling out fires long after his mate had fallen back exhausted. But with his superiors he was not very popular. Discontented, intolerant of discipline, mutinous, he was nearly always in trouble, and, owing to his violent, uncontrollable temper, quarrels were incessant even with his comrades. They feared him more than they loved him, and perhaps this explained why his present attempt to induce them to desert ship just before sailing-time had not met with much success. The first speaker went on: "They'll catch ye, it's a cinch! Then it'll go hard wid ye. 'Tain't no worser for you than for the rest of us. The boiler-room's bad enough, I grant ye that, but it's a darn sight better than goin' to jail. What do you say, Dutch?" he demanded, turning to another. Armitage maintained his sulky silence. The man called "Dutch," a lantern-jawed chap with red hair and a squint, expectorated a long stream of saliva on the floor before replying. Shifting his quid, he said: "I guess Shorty's right, Jack. I ain't no fonder of doin' the suicide act in that hell-hole than ye is yerself. I'd quit right now, and never want to see the sight of a bloomin' ship again. But we've signed for the voyage, ain't we? We must grin and bear it for another trip. The law gives 'em the right on us. I'm goin' back now, before I'm taken back. What d'ye say, Bill?" Bill, already half-seas over, nodded in a stupid, maudlin manner. He had drunk so much that he could hardly keep his head up, and the words came thickly from his lips: "Desert ship?--hie! No, siree! Hie! Ye remember--Robinson, who tried to beat it at Naples? Hie! They didn't do a thing to him--almost fed the bloody furnace with him, that's all! No, siree, no pier-head jumps for me!" The clock in the outer shop struck eleven. Shorty jumped to his feet. "Say, lads!" he exclaimed, with another nervous glance toward the street. "The blessed ship sails in another hour. We'll be missed and they'll be after us, sure as yer born. I'm goin' back right now. Who's comin'?" Bill and "Dutch" staggered with difficulty to their feet. While Shorty settled accounts with the urbane Schmalz, "Dutch" turned to Armitage, who remained seated at the table. "Ain't ye goin' back, Jack?" he demanded, as he shot with expert aim another stream of saliva into Schmalz's cracked cuspidor. Armitage raised his head and glared at them. There was a look in his face that made "Dutch" wince. Hoarsely, savagely he burst out: "You call yourselves men! You're nothing but a lot of white-livered, whining curs! You've had a taste of hell in that ship, and you want to go back and endure another three months of it, because you haven't manhood enough to put an end to it. I'll not sail, I tell you. They'll never take me back, do you hear?" "Does ye mean ye goin' to desert?" demanded Shorty, eyeing the big fellow with astonishment. The other two men stared at him, open-mouthed. "Dutch" scratched his head, and, to better conceal his emotion, let go another flyer of saliva at the cuspidor. Then, with great deliberation, he bit off another chew of tobacco, and said, with a nasal drawl: "P'r'aps we might make so bold as to inquire of the gen'l'man what 'ee's goin' ter do fer a livin'. I allus suspected he didn't 'ave ter work if 'ee didn't 'ave ter. But if 'ee's come in for a fortune 'ee might let 'is pals know summat about it." "I guess 'ee's gwine ter be a bloomin' bondholder and cut his coupons!" grinned Bill, in a feeble attempt at jocularity. Armitage bit his lip and scowled. He was in no humor for jests, and his hand moved dangerously in the direction of the empty whiskey-bottle. Bill ducked and the other men immediately gave the table a wider berth. Shorty cast another nervous glance at the clock. "Come, boys," he said impatiently. "We ain't got no time to lose. Stop yer foolin', Armitage. Let's get back to the ship, or there'll be the devil to pay." There was a moment of silent suspense. The other men looked toward Armitage, who did not stir. Shorty stepped forward and shook him by the arm. Armitage jerked himself free with an oath, and, raising his fist, powerful as a sledge-hammer, brought it down on the table with a force that made the glasses dance. His eyes literally blazed with fury as he turned on his comrades. "Go and be damned!" he shouted. "Go back to the ship and tell 'em to count me out. I'll go to hell soon enough without getting hell here, too. Don't worry about what'll become of me. I guess I'll be all right. Anyhow, I'm not goin' back, do ye hear? If I was a coward, afraid to call my soul my own, like you fellows, it'd be different. But I ain't!" Shorty flushed up. He had been a champion light-weight boxer before things went wrong and he took to the sea, and he resented this reflection on his personal courage. He had not yet had an encounter with Armitage, but he knew enough of the science of self-defense not to be as much intimidated by the big fellow as were the rest of his shipmates. Advancing spunkily, he retorted: "No man ever yet called me a coward, 'Handsome,' an' I ain't goin' to take it from you. If it comes to a showdown, the coward's the chap as deserts 'is ship, not the chap as stands by 'is signed articles." Armitage sprang to his feet, his six feet of athletic masculinity towering above them all. "Clear out! Clear out!" he shouted, wildly waving his arms. "Clear out before I kill one of you!" Bill and "Dutch" obeyed with almost ludicrous alacrity, and retreated into the outer shop, but Shorty pluckily stood his ground. Before Armitage could lay hands on him, the cockney closed to the attack, a sinewy arm shot out like a flash, and there was a thundering smack as the blow went home on Armitage's jaw. For a brief moment the athlete staggered, but more from sheer surprise than anything else. Then, with a volley of fierce expletives, he made a savage rush at his adversary. The men clinched, arms and legs whirled around in a cyclone of dust, tables and chairs were sent crashing to all corners of the room. It was all over in a minute. By the time Schmalz, terrified by the noise of the fracas, ran in to see what was the matter, Shorty was lying on his back on the floor, bleeding profusely from the nose. While Bill and "Dutch" helped the worsted ex-champion to a chair, Armitage coolly readjusted the rest of the scattered furniture, and, resuming his seat at the table, bellowed at Schmalz, who stood, open-mouthed: "Don't stand grinning there, you blamed fool! Let's have some more whiskey. This scrapping makes one thirsty." Schmalz hesitated. He stood in no little fear of his burly customer. On the other hand, it was dangerous to let him go on drinking. There was no telling what he might do. He looked from Shorty, who was trying to stop his nose-bleed, to the broken glasses on the floor. "I guess you haf enough alretty yet," he growled. Armitage struck the table viciously. "Don't stand chinning there!" he shouted. "Bring some booze on the double quick, or it'll be the worse for you!" With a helpless shrug of his shoulders, Schmalz went after more liquor. Shorty, partly recovered from the knock-out, staggered painfully to his feet and made for the door, followed by "Dutch" and Bill. When he reached the threshold, the defeated fireman turned and shook his fist at Armitage. "Yer'll be sorry for this, 'Handsome'!" he shouted. "I'll get even with ye afore the day's out." Armitage shrugged his shoulders by way of answer, and the three men slouched out. As Shorty passed Schmalz in the outer store, he said to the German in an undertone: "Look out for him, d'ye hear? He's a bad 'un. He's not to be trusted!" Jerking his thumb significantly in the direction of the cash-drawer, he whispered: "He'd as soon cut your throat as not--for what ye've got there." Schmalz turned pale. Shorty went on: "I've got an account to square with him. Give him all the whiskey he wants. Keep him here until we can get back to the steamer. They'll come and nab him. Serve him right. He's better out of yer way." "Ya-ya!" exclaimed Schmalz nervously, "But mach schnell, eh?" The men hurried away, leaving their irate shipmate to his own reflexions. For a long time after their departure there reigned a perfect quiet, which seemed all the more intense by contrast with the recent turmoil. Schmalz, busy at his desk, absorbed in the arduous task of disentangling his accounts, gave no heed to his quarrelsome customer, who, now that the immediate cause of his irritation was removed, was inclined to be more amiable. His sullenness of manner disappeared and he seemed even willing to argue amicably with his host the merits of the recent affray. Schmalz paid no attention, yet the fireman talked on. It wasn't his fault, he insisted. Shorty had called him names, and he wouldn't stand that from any man. He knew what he was about. Flesh and blood simply couldn't stand that stoke-hold any longer. Only the last trip, one of the men collapsed under the strain. Seized with "stoker's madness," he had rushed to the deck and jumped overboard. He'd had enough of such horrors. He'd die rather than return to the ship. "D'ye hear, Schmalz?" he shouted, to better attract his host's attention. "I tell ye I'm through with seagoing. They'll never get me back!" Schmalz, however, turned a deaf ear. He was unwilling or else too busy to listen. So, finding that he had no one to whom he could impart his sorrows, Armitage turned once more to the whiskey-bottle, with the idea of drowning them. The strong liquor soon had the effect of making him drowsy. His head dropped heavily on his broad chest and his snores shook the room. He might have slept in this way for hours without disturbance, only Schmalz clumsily dropped a tray, and the sudden crash aroused the stoker with a start. Rubbing his eyes, he turned eagerly to the clock, and a look of satisfaction overspread his face. The _Atlanta_ would soon be on her way to the Mediterranean. Half an hour more and he would have nothing to fear. They would have sailed without him. Then he need skulk no longer in this den. He could go forth a free man, at liberty to do what he chose. But as his befuddled brain began to clear, he grew uneasy. He knew the boiler-room was short-handed. They must have discovered his absence. Shorty and the others, in revenge, would be likely to peach on him and say where he was to be found. The officers would come after him and drag him back to that abominable stoke-hold. He knew enough of the shipping laws to be aware that they had the right. He being an English fireman in a foreign port, all they had to do was to go before the British consul and secure his arrest. Putting his hand to his hip pocket, he drew out a revolver and regarded lovingly its polished surface. "My only friend!" he muttered. "Let 'em come! I'll give 'em all the fight they want--more than they want! I'll put a bullet through my own head rather than be dragged back to that stoke-hold!" And if the _Atlanta_ sailed without him--what then? He had had enough of the sea, that was certain, yet he must earn a living somehow. He hadn't a dollar in the world, and he knew no trade that he could turn his hand to. His life at sea had unfitted him for anything else. Even if he made the effort and let the whiskey alone, how could he seek employment looking as he did? With no linen and in his grimy, oil-stained clothes, he would be eyed everywhere with suspicion. Nobody would have anything to do with him. The world has no use for its failures, for men who are down on their luck. The outlook was hopeless, for he saw no way to improve his condition. "It's easy to lose one's self-respect and sink into degradation," he muttered bitterly to himself; "and when at last you see your folly, then it's too late--it's impossible to get back. Pshaw! What's the good?" With a shaking hand, he helped himself to another drink, grateful to the lethal liquor which dulled his thoughts. Yet, in spite of himself, his clouded brain remained active. Memory slipped back ten years. If only those years could be lived over again! How dearly he had paid for the follies which had brought him where he was! Wild oats? Yes--he had sown them in plenty, and a damnable harvest he had reaped! Things had gone from bad to worse, until one day came the crisis. He was down and out, almost starving, without a friend to extend a helping hand. After he had fasted forty-eight hours, and the river seemed to be the only way out, a barroom companion told him of a job as coal-passer on an ocean liner which was to be had for the asking. He jumped eagerly at the chance as a drowning man grasps at a drifting straw. At least, it would mean temporary food and lodging. He was strong as an ox and could stand the pace, no matter how hard the work was. Besides, hidden away in a steamer's stoke-hold, he reckoned out that he would be dead to the world. No one would think of seeking him there. The brutal work and brutal companions would help him to forget the past. For five long years he had stood it, but he could endure it no longer. Five years of physical and mental torment, and the future--a hopeless blank. The old days were wiped out completely, every decent tie shattered forever. He could never redeem the past. He had joined the vast army of life's failures, which goes marching on, silently, grimly to perdition. The sooner the end came the better. He was weary of it all. The best way would be to make an end of it at once. He knew he had only himself to blame, but, like most men who have gone to the devil, he held society responsible. The world is without pity for those who make mistakes. The man who's down is given no mercy. They said he was quarrelsome, a trouble-maker. So he was. In all these years of suffering he had steeled his heart to hate his fellow man. He detested the rich, idle class because he held it accountable for his present miserable condition, and in obscure socialistic and anarchistic meetings in the slums of New York and London he had listened gloomily to the wild-eyed orators' frenzied teachings of class-hatred. His sufferings had embittered him against the whole human race. He had fought his way through it all fiercely, because the whole world seemed in league against him, every man and woman his enemy. The only law he knew was that enforced by a strong arm. The weaker had no rights. It wasn't his fault if he had to defend himself. He had given the world back what it gave him and with interest. That's why he hit back every time blindly, savagely. With an unsteady hand, he took up the whiskey-bottle and started to refill his glass. His back was partly toward the door, so he could not see the front store suddenly darken by the abrupt entrance of four men who pushed their way unceremoniously past Schmalz and rushed into the room where he was sitting. Two of the newcomers were ship's officers, the others were policemen. Armitage was taken completely by surprise. He knew at once that they had come for him. With an oath, he jumped to his feet and his right hand went quickly to his hip pocket. But before he could draw his gun, the officers and policemen threw themselves upon him and pinioned his arms. "You'd better come quickly, Armitage, or it'll go harder with you!" said the senior officer sternly. "What d'ye want with me?" demanded the fireman hoarsely. "You're under arrest for desertion," replied his superior. "Where d'ye want me to go?" stammered Armitage, his breath coming and going in short, spasmodic gasps. "Back to the ship. Not as you're much good--only to give you your medicine," was the laconic rejoinder. "Back to the ship! Never while I live!" shouted the big fellow. By a superhuman muscular effort he threw off his four captors as easily as if they had been children, and made a dash for liberty through the store. But he was not yet clear of his foes. Seeing him coming, Schmalz quickly put out his foot, and the fugitive fell all his length to the floor. Before he could scramble to his feet again, the policemen were upon him, and soon had his arms securely pinioned. "Quick, back to the ship with him!" commanded the senior officer. "She sails in ten minutes. We've just time to make it!" CHAPTER II. The scene on the dock just before sailing-time of an ocean liner is always an animated one, full of interest and color for those having eyes to see. The huge steamer, freshly painted, all spick and span, laden to the water-line with precious freight, her enormous funnels belching clouds of black smoke, with white steam hissing from every part of her giant hulk, as if the imprisoned energy were eager to put its power to the test; the air filled with the babel of many voices, smart stewards standing at attention on the lower deck, ready to serve the embarking passengers, uniformed sailors hurrying to obey sharply given orders; officers resplendent in immaculate white duck and gold braid, solemnly promenading the bridge, as if impressed with the weight of their responsibility; excited travelers arriving in every description of vehicle; messengers rushing here and there with floral baskets and hot-house fruit sent as parting gifts; telegraph-boys bringing words of farewell; tear-stained faces smiling _au revoir_, handkerchiefs waving and much shouting; policemen pushing back the spectators anxious to see the last of friends and relatives; the crowd growing gradually smaller and the shouts more distant as the leviathan swings out in to the stream--all this makes up a picture which, once beheld, is forever engraved on heart and memory. The annual around-the-world cruise of the palatial Blue Star steamer _Atlanta_, 17,000 tons, was always an event of more than ordinary interest, and sailing-day never failed to draw a large crowd. In fact, going down to the dock to give a noisy send-off to those friends lucky enough to be able to make the delightful Mediterranean trip had of recent years assumed the importance of a social function. The voyage being pre-eminently for health and pleasure, it generally attracted a goodly number of well-to-do and congenial people. Many of the passengers, moving in the same sets in society, were already well acquainted before going on board, and strangers had no difficulty in securing introductions. Almost as soon as the anchor was weighed, the barriers of exclusiveness were thrown down. Before the vessel had proceeded very far from port, every one knew every one else, and the ship's company had become one big jolly family. The passenger-list contained many names well known in society. Mrs. Townsend Lee, one of the leaders of New York's 400, was on board; so was Mrs. Wesley Stuart, whose _musicales_ were counted among the most delightful affairs of the season. Professor Hanson, the noted sociologist, was a passenger; so also was Mrs. Phelps, the wealthy young widow whose recent bereavement had made her the target of every impecunious nobleman in Europe. It was perhaps only a coincidence, yet still a fact the significance of which escaped no one, that two staterooms had been engaged--one by the Honorable Percy Fitzhugh, a callow Englishman who had made himself ridiculous with a Casino chorus-girl, the other by Count Herbert von Hatzfeld, scion of an aristocratic German family, who in a newspaper interview gave out that he was globe-trotting for his health. Gossip had linked the names of both men with Mrs. Phelps, and as neither had been at any pains to deny that he was a suitor for the widow's hand, there was considerable speculation as to whom was making most progress in her favor. But the name on the list which excited most interest and comment among the crowd of sightseers and seagoers who literally mobbed the big ship, was that of Miss Grace Harmon, the beautiful daughter of the well-known railroad magnate, whose début in society two years before, at a splendid ball given in her honor at the Harmon's palatial Fifth Avenue home, was still talked about as the most brilliant and costly affair of that season. Grace Harmon was conspicuous for her beauty even in a land famous for its fair women. Tall and slender, with aristocratic features and queenly carriage, she was the typical Gibson girl. Women raved about her wonderful complexion, her splendid eyes, her magnificent hair, her graceful figure. They went into ecstasies over her gowns, her beautifully arched eyebrows, academic nose, dazzling white teeth, and a sensitive, delicately modeled mouth, that might have tempted Saint Anthony himself. Men looking for money whispered that she was the prize catch of the matrimonial market, being the only heir to her father's millions, and the more enterprising laid their lines accordingly. When she went out driving or appeared in her box at the opera, everybody craned their necks and stared rudely, eager to feast their eyes on the priceless gifts this favorite of fortune had received from the gods. In their cheap hall bedrooms, timid poets wrote love-sonnets which they mailed to her anonymously, expecting no acknowledgment, happy only that they had expressed on paper what lay heavy on their hearts. So far Grace had shown herself indifferent either to sentiment or matrimonial ambitions. She had not encouraged any of the men who showered her with attentions, and even with her intimates she declined to discuss what they declared to be _the_ all-important question. But that eventually she would make a sensationally brilliant marriage went without the saying, and society wiseacres predicted that Prince Sergius of Eurasia, the most persistent of her suitors, would sooner or later carry off the prize. The nephew of the reigning monarch of a bankrupt little kingdom in the Balkans, the prince had been well known in New York and Newport for several seasons past as a dissipated spendthrift anxious to make a good matrimonial catch. Grace had disliked him the first moment she set eyes on him, and he had never succeeded in removing this first unfavorable impression. On the other hand, such a match certainly had advantages which to many a girl would prove too dazzling and tempting to resist. But Grace declined to be hurried into a decision. She demanded time, and while waiting to know his fate the Prince was suddenly recalled to Europe. This was as far as the affair had gone, and secretly Grace was glad to see the last of him, at least for a time, although the well-informed press sagely gave out that it was "understood in society circles that a formal engagement of Miss Grace Harmon and the Prince of Eurasia would shortly be announced." Fully conscious of her power, well aware that her mere presence aroused jealousy in every woman and admiration in every man, Grace would have been more than human had she escaped being spoiled. The spitefully inclined accused her of haughtiness and of carrying her head high. It is true that she was careful in choosing her intimates and quick to snub those who were too ready to claim acquaintance, yet friends once made she kept, and she was popular in her set. In the more private home circle she was fairly idolized, especially by her father, who had indulged her every whim ever since she was born. Her mother, for years a chronic invalid, had left chiefly to servants the care of bringing her up, but to her father she was all that was worth while in life. The old man existed only for his beautiful daughter. Everything money could purchase--fine clothes, costly trinkets, smart automobiles were hers for the asking. After graduating from Bryn Mawr, she spent two years in France, Italy and Germany, acquiring a superficial knowledge of the continental languages. On her return home she joined the social whirl and became proficient in bridge. In short, Grace Harmon was accomplished to the tips of her tapering, carefully manicured fingers. Brought up in the lap of luxury, never having expressed a desire that was not immediately gratified, Grace discovered after a time that wealth, while useful, has also its drawbacks. Having everything, she wanted nothing. She found herself wishing there might be something she could not have, so that for once, at least, she might experience the emotion of longing for the unattainable. The plain truth was that Grace was no ordinary girl. She had more brains than people gave her credit for. Although reared in the tainted hot-house atmosphere of society, with its degenerate amusements, its low moral tone and trivial ambitions, she took little real interest in its shallow, vulgar pleasures. The women she soon discovered to be empty-headed or frankly immoral; the men were, for the most part, libertines, gamblers, fortune-hunters. The homage paid to her beauty flattered her vanity, but once the novelty of her first two seasons had worn away, surfeited with dinners, receptions, dances, and bridge-parties, she grew deadly tired of the social treadmill. It ceased to amuse her. She felt there was something wanting to complete her happiness. She lost her buoyancy of disposition, her high spirits disappeared, even her beauty paled. She became depressed and melancholy. People whispered that she was going into a decline. There had been a case of consumption in the family, they said. Her father, laughingly declaring that she was in love, asked for the name of the lucky man. "Are you going to make the Prince happy at last, child?" he said. "No, dad," she replied seriously. "It's nothing to do with that. Among all the men who've paid me attention there's not one I'd marry--now." What seemed to Grace a more correct diagnosis of her trouble was made by Mrs. Wesley Stuart, her practical married friend: "It's only your nerves, my dear--a natural reaction after the pace you've been going. What you need is a radical change of scene, something to stimulate your imagination. Take a trip around the world. If you'll go, I'll go with you." Wesley Stuart was one of the big men in the Steel Trust and several times a millionaire. Gossip had long hinted that there was no love lost between him and his young wife, and she never denied it. He went his way; she went hers. She had all the money her expensive tastes called for, and this, coupled with a certain amount of natural cleverness, had given her considerable prominence in the artistic set. Her _musicales_ were a success because her ready tact and intimate acquaintance with famous artists enabled her to surround herself with interesting people. Having some musical talent herself, she nourished the hopeless ambition that one day she would be able to sing in opera. Injudicious friends had encouraged her in this fatuous belief, and she had worked so hard and spent so much time and money studying with expensive teachers, with the idea of going on the stage, that at last her health gave way. Threatened with nervous breakdown, her physician had advised a long sea voyage, and this was just the opportunity she had been looking for. Both would have the other's company. If Grace would go, she wouldn't hesitate a second. As for her husband, he would be glad to be rid of her. She said it as a jest; in her heart she knew it was true. Not that she cared. Wesley gave her all the money she asked for and never interfered with her. According to her philosophy of life, theirs was as perfect a matrimonial understanding as she could wish for. The idea of the trip at once appealed strongly to Grace. Enthusiastically she declared that she would like nothing better. It would be so novel and exciting, quite unlike any experience she had yet had. Some friends who had already made the trip gave glowing accounts of their travels, and the more she thought of it the more decided she was that around the world she would go. This decided it, for when once Grace made up her mind, everything was as good as settled. Nothing her father or mother might say could deter her from the project. She pleaded that the trip was absolutely necessary, not only for her health, but as a finishing touch to her education. The ship was not only going to China, Japan, India, and Egypt. It would visit also many out-of-the-way islands which are practically inaccessible to the usual tourist and seldom if ever visited. As a lesson in geography alone it was worth the money. Harmon _père_ did not mind the expense. The few thousands the trip would cost was a bagatelle to the man of millions. What he balked at was the idea of losing his cherished daughter for six long months. The uncertainties of Wall Street made it impossible for him to accompany her, and Mrs. Harmon suffered so horribly from seasickness that she threw up her hands at the very suggestion. Seizing the excuse that a young girl could not go unaccompanied, her father, for the first time in his recollection, asserted his authority, emphatically refused consent, and was obdurate to all coaxing. Then Grace played her trump card. Their friend Mrs. Stuart was going on the same steamer. With a married woman for a chaperon, what further objection could there be? Seeing that he was check-mated, and that his daughter, as usual, would have her way in the end anyhow, Mr. Harmon reluctantly capitulated. He was down at the steamer to see her off, a tall, distinguished-looking, silvery-haired old gentleman, conspicuous in the group of friends who had come to bid his daughter _bon voyage_. It was a noisy, jolly, unruly crowd. Every one talked at the same time, pushing and elbowing, blocking the gangway up which rushed each minute fresh arrivals laden with rugs and handbags. Ten minutes more and the "All ashore" gong would sound, and then the big ship would slowly pull out and point her nose for the open sea. Grace stood in the center of the fashionably dressed throng, herself stylishly attired in a chic, long gray cloth directoire coat and picture hat, bestowing smiles and handshakes right and left like a queen holding court. Everybody was in high spirits, all except Mr. Harmon, who tried to look brave as he furtively wiped away a tear. "Don't do that, dad, or I'll spoil my complexion," whispered Grace, making heroic efforts to swallow a hard lump that arose in her own throat. "One would think I were going away forever. I'll be back safe and sound before you imagine--you'll see!" "I hope so, child, I hope so," murmured the old man, clasping her to his breast. "It's foolish of me, of course. All the same, I can't help wishing you weren't going. I have a sort of presentiment that something will happen." Grace laughed merrily. "Nonsense, dad! What can happen? Nothing ever happens on ocean voyages. They are awfully tame and exasperatingly free from incident. Shipwrecks and things like that occur only in novels. Sometimes I wish things would happen." "Really, Grace!" protested a feminine voice at her side, "I do wish you wouldn't say such wicked things. You know how nervous I am." The speaker was Mrs. Wesley Stuart, under whose protective wing Grace was traveling. She was a willowy and rather attractive blonde, not yet in the thirties, but with a complexion somewhat the worse for rich foods, old wines, and late hours. Showily dressed, with a large black felt mushroom hat and heavy pearl pendants in her ears, she talked with affected languor and used a gold lorgnon. "Your father is quite right, dear," she went on. "There are all sorts of perils at sea. A hundred things might happen. Our machinery might break down, we might drift for weeks without being sighted, we might collide with an iceberg in the fog, we might even turn turtle. Don't you remember that awful affair of the _City of Berlin_? Of course you don't. It was before your time--before mine, too, for that matter. The steamer left Liverpool about thirty years ago, crowded with passengers. She never reached port, and has never been heard of from that day to this. Every vestige of her was wiped out. They never picked up a life-boat, or even so much as a steamer-chair. The theory was that she turned turtle and went right down." "No--really--you don't say so!" exclaimed behind them a man's voice with the exaggerated Piccadilly intonation some Englishmen affect. "It's a jolly shame, don'tcher know--to frighten Miss Harmon like that. She'll believe every bally thing you tell her and get the blue spiders and all that sort of thing--eh, what?" Grace turned, smiling, to greet the Honorable Percy Fitzhugh, who was hemmed in the crowd at their elbows. He had just come aboard with a green Tyrolian hat on the side of his head, a monocle in his eye, and a bull-terrier tucked under his arm. Close behind was his valet, carrying a wonderful collection of walking-sticks and a huge bouquet of flowers. "Oh, I don't mind!" laughed Grace. "I'm a fine sailor and not a bit nervous. The sea has no terrors for me." "I wish I could say as much," sighed Mrs. Stuart. Petulantly she added: "I never feel safe on the ocean. I don't mind storms, but I'm terribly afraid of fog and icebergs and fire. Whenever it's foggy I can't eat or sleep. I'm in a state of mental anguish until it clears again." "It's a jolly good thing some of us have nerve--eh, what?" exclaimed Mr. Fitzhugh, with a wink at Grace. Addressing Mrs. Stuart, he went on: "You remind me of Rex, my terrier here. He loathes the sea--howls and whines dismally the whole time. But please don't get the blue spiders, that's a good girl. We're going to be an awfully jolly party. Don't spoil the fun. Try a champagne cocktail. Best antidote for nervousness in the world. If one don't work, take two. You'll feel bully." Turning to his man, he added: "Thompson, take those flowers to my stateroom, and go and see about my 'tub' and steamer-chair." The next moment the Englishman and his green thatch were swallowed up in the crush of new arrivals. "Did you ever see such a coarse, selfish creature!" exclaimed Mrs. Stuart indignantly. "The impudence of his comparing me to his miserable dog!" "Who are the flowers for?" laughed Grace. "Mrs. Phelps, of course. He's head over heels in debt. He needs her money. I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't catch on. She's very ambitious--the title attracts her. There she comes now." A stylish, handsome woman, richly dressed all in black, with large Gainsborough hat to match, came leisurely up the gangplank, followed by a smart footman weighed down with packages. She nodded cordially to Grace and Mrs. Stuart as she caught sight of them, and disappeared in the direction of the staterooms. "She's literally bursting with money," whispered Mrs. Stuart, who knew everybody's business. "Her husband left her ten millions. He was a simple soul--a plain, matter-of-fact business man. All he thought of was making money. She never cared for him. It's just as well he died. She can marry again now and live the life she likes best. All the men are after her. Some think Count von Hatzfeld has the best chance. Of course you know he's on the ship. You see, it's all cut and dried." "I don't blame her," said Grace cynically, as she returned the bow of another arrival. "It must be dreadful to be a mere 'Mrs. Green' or 'Mrs. Brown.' I couldn't live with any ordinary man--a mere business man whose one thought was figures and profits. My ideal is an English peer or an Italian count--preferably the latter. They are less expensive. English dukes, they say, drink hard and beat their wives. It would be nice to be addressed as 'Duchess,' or 'Comtesse.'" Mrs. Stuart looked approvingly at her _protégée_. "I'm glad to see you're so practical, my dear." "Why not? This is a practical age," laughed Grace. "Well, there's Prince Sergius. He's only waiting the word. Why don't you marry him and be a princess--only two lives removed from a throne? Every woman in America would envy you." Grace frowned. "And I--would despise myself?" she answered. "Every one knows his reputation. It's my money he wants, that's all. I haven't yet sunk so low as to purchase a titled husband at the price of my self-respect. Besides, I could not endure a tie that would be entirely loveless, wholly mercenary. I hope I have some ideals; some sentiment left." "Were you ever in love?" persisted her companion. "I suppose I was, like most girls. When I first left school I saw boys I liked. All girls are silly at some period of their life. But I survived those early attachments. I am still heart-whole. I never see nowadays a man with whom I could fall in love. To me, they all seem conceited and selfish. Of course I shall have to marry one day or other, but I'm afraid it will be what the French call a _mariage de convenance_. "Or, in plain Yankee, marriage with an eye to the main chance," rejoined Mrs. Stuart. "But you don't have to marry for money, child. You are rich." Grace was thoughtful a moment, and then she replied: "Money is not everything--mere money is vulgar. One gets horribly tired of it." Pensively she went on: "You think I am cold and devoid of sentiment. You are wrong. I yearn for life in the sun-lit countries of the old world, in historic lands of intrigue, love, and passion, with brilliant state functions amid scenes of regal splendor, where class and birth count for more than mere wealth. In America we have only the money standard. The wife of any little grocer who gets rich overnight may be a social leader to-morrow. It's disgusting!" Mrs. Stuart was about to say something when a sudden commotion on the dock attracted everybody's attention, and there was a general rush to the rail. A large crowd had gathered near the entrance of the gangway, surrounding a man who lay struggling on the ground. Policemen and ship's officers were stooping over him trying to quiet him. "What's the matter?" cried Grace anxiously. "I hope no one's hurt!" "It looks as if some one had fallen in a fit," said Mrs. Stuart, looking through her lorgnon. Mr. Harmon, who had been conversing with an acquaintance, came up hurriedly. Having noticed the excitement, he feared that some harm threatened his daughter. "It's an accident of some kind," he said. "Oh, I knew something would happen!" exclaimed Mrs. Stuart, getting out her smelling-salts. "Do you know what the matter is?" inquired Grace of a sailor. The man grinned and touched his cap. "'Tain't nothin', miss. Only one of 'em blokes what keeps the fire's a-goin' got it inter ees 'ead that it was too bloomin' 'ot for 'im. So 'ee jumps the blessed ship without so much as askin' leave, an' gets run in by the cops fer 'is pains." The explanation, such as it was, was wholly incomprehensible to Grace, who knew as much as she did before. Meantime the crowd grew bigger, the noise louder and the excitement more intense. A number of ship's officers had the man on his feet and were half dragging him, half carrying him to the gangplank. It was not exactly an agreeable spectacle with which to regale fastidious passengers on sailing-day, and the ship's officers would have gladly avoided it. But the refractory stoker was necessary to the speed of the vessel, and there was no way of getting him aboard except by the main gangway. It was late. The steamer would pull out any moment, and the other gangways had been already pulled in. Mrs. Stuart offered to interpret the sailor's speech: "He says that one of the sailors has been overcome by the heat and fallen on the dock in a faint." "Not exactly, miss," grinned the man, with another tug of his cap. "'Ee's not the kind wot faints. 'Ee's puttin' up a fight. 'Ee's a fighter, is Handsome Jack." Grace turned in bewilderment to her father, who had just returned on board. "Handsome Jack!" she echoed. "What does he mean?" "It's only a deserter," explained Mr. Harmon. "A fireman who attempted to get away before the ship sailed. The officers found him in a drinking-shop and brought him here." "I don't blame the poor beggar for trying to desert," said the Honorable Percy Fitzhugh, who had just come up from below-stairs. "It's jolly awful in that stoke-hold, don'tcher know? Ever been down in the stoke-hold, Miss Harmon? No? I'll take you down some day--eh, what? I don't see how they get men to do such work. I'd rather commit suicide, by Jove!" "Yes, it is terrible work," said Mr. Harmon. "They take to it only when desperate and forced by circumstances. It is well known that murderers and criminals of every description take to stoking when they wish to lie low. They know the police will never look for them in the stoke-hold, on the theory that they are getting punishment enough." "How dreadful!" yawned Grace, as she watched with languid interest the commotion on the shore. Presently she asked: "Can they make him go back to work in the stoke-hold whether he likes or not?" "Certainly," replied her father. "This is an English ship. He probably signed articles in Liverpool. Under British maritime law, any member of the crew deserting ship in a foreign port can be arrested. That's what, in sailor parlance, is called 'a pier-head jump.' You see, a big vessel like this must have its full complement of stokers, otherwise she can't get up enough steam, and the record suffers. That's why they take the trouble to go after deserters. They say that this fellow deserves no sympathy. He's a good-for-nothing, brutal, violent fellow. Here he comes now." "I'd like to see him!" exclaimed Grace, pushing forward to get a closer view of the group of men as they came struggling up the gangplank. "Oh, Grace, how can you look at such horrid sights?" ejaculated Mrs. Stuart, fanning herself nervously and averting her face. The prisoner by this time was nearly exhausted, and presented a sorry sight. His grease-stained clothes were torn to rags, his hair was disheveled, blood flowed freely from a cut on his cheek, making all the more striking the contrast with his white, set face and its grim, hopeless expression. [Illustration: IT WAS ALL THEY COULD DO TO DRAG HIM ON BOARD.] Armitage knew he was beaten. His strength and determination had availed him nothing, yet he was still full of fight. It was all they could do to drag him on board inch by inch. As they reached the deck, and he realized that once more the ship had enslaved him, a hoarse cry of despair escaped his lips. With a last superhuman effort, he shook himself free. One of his captors was hurled to the left, the other sent flying to the right. His fists shot out, and a third officer fell like a log. For a moment he was free, and, surprised at his success, he stood triumphant over their prostrate forms, just as a gladiator, doomed to die, might tower for a few brief seconds above his worsted foes. His fists clenched, his shapely head thrown back, every muscle taut, his eyes flashing, chest heaving, he resembled a classic hero battling with pigmies. "Isn't he handsome!" exclaimed Grace. "Aye, miss," grinned the voluble sailor. "That's wot we call 'im--Handsome Jack. Sometimes it's Gentleman Jack, cause of 'is fine manners; but 'ee's only a stoker, just the same." The officers regained their feet and again sprang at their prisoner. The passengers fell back alarmed. "Come here, Grace!" cried Mr. Harmon uneasily. "You'll get hurt." But there was no danger. More officers and sailors ran quickly up, and confronted by such re-enforcements, the fireman stood no chance. Before he had time to take advantage of his temporary victory, he was again overpowered and dragged without further ado in the direction of the forecastle. Grace shrank back as he was taken past, but she could not help seeing his wild, staring eyes and white face with its expression of despair. As he disappeared, the last gong sounded, every visitor hurried ashore, the siren started its deep-toned blasts as warning that the leviathan was getting under weigh. "I wish it hadn't happened," said Grace, as she kissed her hand in adieu to her father, who stood on the dock watching the vessel go out. "It's made me positively ill," complained Mrs. Stuart, busy with her smelling-salts. Long after New York's sky-scrapers had faded from view and the land was only a dim line on the horizon, Grace was still haunted by that white, set face, with its expression of utter despair. CHAPTER III. The Indian Ocean, a vast expanse of tossing blue water, its heaving bosom still agitated by the expiring gale, glorious in the outburst of sunshine that followed the storm, stretched away to every point of the compass. As far as the eye could carry, away to where the breaking clouds touched the fast-disappearing land line of mysterious Asia, the boisterous white-capped seas scattered showers of prisms and spray. Rolling and tumbling, their lofty crests flecked with fleecy foam, the endless waves advanced majestically, with rhythmical motion and the stateliness and precision of trained battalions, all scurrying in one direction, urged on by the whip of the southwesterly gale. The tempest had abated, the lowering clouds were rapidly dispersing, once more Nature was smiling and serene, diffusing the beauty and gladness of life through water and sky. Graceful, white-winged sea-birds uttered shrill cries of delight as they circled in the air, gorgeously colored flying fish leaped joyously from the dancing waters, which flashed like jewels in the blinding sunlight. The world was at its brightest and fairest, full of movement and color. The breeze was caressing and balmy, and as the _Atlanta_, now three weeks from home, plunged her way resistlessly Eastward, the great liner was sonorous with the music of wind and sea. Thus far the voyage had hardly been all that could be desired as regards weather. January is seldom a good month for the Atlantic, and this year the crossing was nastier than usual. The _Atlanta_ had no sooner cleared the Banks than it began to blow great guns. Gale followed gale with tropical downpours of rain, the wind blowing from every quarter at once, piling up mountainous combers that every now and again broke over the bridge, forty feet above the water. The tremendous seas crashed aboard with a thunderous roar, frightening the more timid among the passengers, smashing life-boats and ventilators, sweeping the decks from bow to stem with avalanches of green water. Skylights were shattered, bridge stanchions bent and twisted, but otherwise there was no damage. The big ship steamed true on her course, haughtily indifferent to the capricious ocean's moods, staunch as a rock, and quite as steady as any railroad-train moving at full speed. The rough weather had the natural effect of confining most of the women folk to their staterooms, and as the men also kept to themselves, preferring bridge and poker in the smoking-room to the wet decks, there was not much opportunity for social amenities. Owing to the high seas, no attempt was made to land at Madeira, and there was no little grumbling because the vagaries of the elements made it impossible to visit Funchal, the Pico Ruivo, Ponta Delgada, and other picturesque places of perennial verdure and flowers. The storm gradually abated, but it was not until the steamer entered the smoother waters of the Mediterranean that there was the slightest pretense at dress or any attempt made to put in regular appearances at dinner. However, the improvement in the weather and the close proximity of land, with the cheering prospect of going ashore, brought about a quick change in everybody's humor. The passengers' spirits rose with the barometer. Fine toilettes made their appearance on deck, the usual little steamer-chair cliques were speedily formed, and every one now started in to enjoy themselves as if the voyage had only just begun. They landed gleefully in tenders, some to inspect the wonders of England's impregnable fortress, others to visit Spanishtown; they crowded to the rail as the ship steamed slowly past the enchanted island of Capri, so dear to the archeologist, and in the Bay of Naples they gazed in awe upon frowning Vesuvius, still smoking and rumbling after a disastrous eruption that had cost hundreds of lives. Sheep-like, after the manner of tourists, they hurried breathlessly through the attractions Naples had to offer, and then, skirting classic Scylla and Charybdis, they steamed on to the land of the Pharaohs, where a complete change of scene awaited them. So far, Grace had kept much to herself. She was not particularly interested in anybody on board, and she found it a welcome novelty, after her recent strenuous social activities, to be able to enjoy a few hours of absolute rest. What with unpacking, writing letters home, and looking after Mrs. Stuart, who, almost from the start, had been completely prostrated with seasickness, she had found the time slip by rapidly and agreeably enough without having to seek diversion outside her immediate little circle. Her chaperon's indisposition furnished her with an admirable excuse for remaining in seclusion, and if another were needed, she had it in the inclemency of the weather. While she herself was not distressed by the rolling and pitching, the unusual motion did not add to her comfort. She preferred to stay in the privacy of her luxurious quarters, which were the object of the envy and curiosity of every other woman on board. Mr. Harmon had spared no expense to secure for his daughter the best on the ship that money could buy. Grace occupied the "royal" suite, a series of sumptuously furnished and richly decorated rooms, entirely shut off from the rest of the ship, thus ensuring complete privacy, comprising bedroom, parlor, dining-room, with piano, telephone, library, etc. With her own maids to wait on her and all meals served privately, there was no necessity to leave her rooms unless she wished to, and if she chose to breathe the invigorating sea air there was no one to see her walk on the deserted lower promenade-deck on which her suite directly opened. She had not gone ashore with the other passengers when the steamer stopped at Gibraltar and Naples. Mrs. Stuart was still indisposed, and she refused to leave her, but when the _Atlanta_ reached Cairo, her chaperon was feeling better, and they both landed to see the sights. Mrs. Stuart had visited Egypt before, but to Grace it was like a glimpse of grand-opera land, a scene from "Aida." The waving palm-trees, the queer Oriental dwellings, the wonderful blue sky blazing on the peaceful desert, with its endless miles of burning sands, its beautiful oases, its camels and picturesquely costumed natives--all this made up a picture of delightful novelty for the young girl fresh from prosaic New York. She gazed wondering at the blue-turbaned Copts, they laughed merrily at the Fellahin in their blue skirts and stared at the yellow-turbaned Jews, fierce-looking Bedouins and black Nubians. At the cost of a few piastres but much muscular exertion, they were dragged up the face of the mighty pyramids, and with varying emotions they contemplated the time-eaten features of the inscrutable Sphinx. The two women derived much enjoyment from their little jaunts. Sometimes they were escorted by Mr. Fitzhugh, who, despairing of making any headway with Mrs. Phelps now that his detested German rival, Count von Hatzfeld, had contrived to monopolize the widow, had begun to dance attendance upon Grace. He knew she had money in her own right, and his mouth watered at the magnitude of her expectations. There seemed no reason why the Harmon millions should not be as usefully employed in regilding the dilapidated Fitzhugh coat-of-arms as those of the late Mr. Phelps. But he did not make much progress, and he had a vague premonition that he was not the kind of chap to appeal to this cold, proud beauty. Discreet conversations on the subject with Mrs. Stuart went far to discourage him altogether. "Grace does not expect to love the man she will marry, so her utter indifference does not reflect her feelings to you in the least," said that perspicacious student of modern femininity. This statement was not exactly true, but it served the purpose of the moment. "Even if she considered you a desirable match," she went on, "she would not be any more unbending. That indifferent, independent manner is her chief charm. It is the stateliness of the lily. Grace might marry you, but she would not love you. She is too much up to date to believe there is any such thing as love. Self-interest governs the world to-day--not love, which, after all, is only a primitive, vulgar emotion. Girls who want to marry well understand this thoroughly. Love and lovers are very delightful in fiction, but no sensible girl to-day takes them into account when planning her future welfare. When Grace does change her name, it will be to take that of one of the proudest families in Europe. Surely you know that she's already as good as engaged to Prince Sergius of Eurasia! As far as titles are concerned, that's going some!" "But I may be a peer one day," protested Mr. Fitzhugh. "You may be, but you're not," retorted Mrs. Stuart. "Your father, the earl, is still alive, and your elder brother is aggressively healthy. American girls do not deal in futures." The Englishman took the hint, and, profiting by a temporary indisposition of Count von Hatzfeld, returned to the siege of the fascinating Mrs. Phelps, whose millions were nearly as many and aspirations not quite as high as those of Miss Grace Harmon. The steamer stayed in port over a week, much to the delight of the passengers, who enjoyed the holiday ashore hugely after having been cooped up so long aboard. The weather continued ideal, and every one took advantage of it to see everything that was worth seeing. The more enterprising passengers undertook little side excursions up the historic Nile; others roamed through the native bazaars, buying at exorbitant prices a vast quantity of things for which they had no possible use; others drove to the tomb of Mehemet Ali, or to the viceroys' palace, keeping up the sightseeing day and night, until all were so weary that they were glad when the _Atlanta_ once more weighed anchor and proceeded down the Red Sea and so into the Indian Ocean, _en route_, for Bombay. CHAPTER IV. As she sat on the deck, reclining indolently in her steamer-chair, propped up with soft cushions, gazing dreamily on the splendid panorama that unfolded slowly before her--the endless procession of majestic, foam-tipped waves, fleecy clouds drifting lazily in a sky of turquoise blue, the sails of a distant vessel whitened by the sun--Grace felt exuberant with the joy of life. The latest novel was on her lap, yet she made no attempt to read. Mrs. Stuart, stretched out on a chair alongside, had vainly endeavored to engage her in conversation. But she did not care to talk, and she found it impossible to center her attention on a book, preferring to just lay still, her eyes semi-closed, rocked gently by the steamer's gradual motion, her senses gently thrilled by the sensuous sounds of ship and sea. The promenade-deck presented the picture of comfort and peace usually to be seen, any fine morning on a liner in mid-ocean--the passengers of both sexes laid out in rows, mummylike, on steamer-chairs, each covered with a rug different from his neighbor's and of bizarre design and color, some reading, some sleeping, some conversing in subdued tones, some sipping cups of bouillon brought on trays by nimble stewards; the decks scrubbed an immaculate white, the brasses highly polished; a neatly uniformed quartermaster standing at a gangway, patiently splicing a rope; two officers on the bridge sweeping the horizon with their glasses or pacing up and down with monotonous precision. With no noises to irritate the ear, a sea voyage has no equal as a rest cure. One heard nothing but the purring of the wind, the gentle flapping of canvas, the splash of the waves, the regular throb of the ship's propeller. Conditions were ideal for day-dreams, and Grace was thinking. As she idly watched the foaming water rush past the rail she thought how pleasantly fate had planned her life. She might have been born poor and compelled to work in a store for miserable wages, standing on her feet behind a counter ten long and weary hours a day, forbidden to sit down on pain of dismissal, bullied by arrogant employers, insulted by inconsiderate customers. This she knew was the lot of thousands of girls whose pale, tired faces had frequently aroused her sympathy when shopping. She belonged to the small, lucky minority--the ruling class--which by the power of its great wealth is able to enslave nine-tenths of the human race. The world, she ruminated, was full of unfortunates whose only fault was that they were born poor. Her mind reverted to the handsome stoker whom they had dragged on board with such little ceremony the day the ship sailed from New York. She wondered what his life had been to force him to take to such an occupation, and what had become of him. Perhaps at that very moment, while she sat there surrounded by every luxury, he was suffering the agonies of the damned. She reproached herself for not making inquiries after him. When she next saw the captain she would certainly do so. How different was her own life! Sailing along on this splendid ship, with perfect weather and ideal surroundings, the world seemed to exist only to afford her pleasure. If the sun shone brightly, it was only to give her joy; if the soft winds blew, it was only to caress her cheek. It seemed unjust. Things were not equal. At times she was sorry that her father was so rich. Had he been poor, she would have had an incentive to work hard and do something. Although she had everything she desired, she was not really happy. She felt there was something wanting, and she thought it was because her life lacked a definite aim. Other girls did things--they painted pictures, wrote books, went on the stage. If her father became bankrupt to-morrow, where would she be? A perfectly useless member of society, ornamental, possibly, but quite useless. Only two alternatives would be open to her--either to seek some humble employment or throw herself in the arms of a rich man. She would not be the first victim of the plutocracy which closes the doors of the liberal professions to its daughters, only to throw them, in the hour of adversity, into the palsied arms of the roué and the voluptuary. Like most American girls, Grace had little to learn in regard to life's fundamentals. She had read all the decadent novelists, from D'Aununzio to Eleanor Glyn, and the daily newspapers, coupled with whispered conversations over five-o'clock teas, had speedily shattered what other illusions had been left over from her school-days. The low moral standard of the set in which she moved had made her cynical in her attitude toward the men who courted her. She had a horror of fortune-hunters, and most of the men who had paid her attention, Prince Sergius and the rest, she suspected of being after her money. Yet she must marry some day. She must find a husband, even if she were not to love him. A married woman is able to take a place in society that is denied the single woman. Marry she must, but whom? The men she knew either bored her or disgusted her. He need not be a rich man, for she had enough for both, yet if a poor man presented himself, she would certainly put him in the fortune-hunting class. As she had told her friend, Mrs. Stuart, a man with a proud title would suit her best. There would be no question of love, of course, only self-interest on both sides. He would furnish the coronet, she the dollars. It would be the _mariage de convenance_, with its hypocrisies, its lies, its miseries. She wondered if her attitude toward life were wrong, if really there were not a man somewhere whom a woman could respect and admire for his strength, his bravery, his nobility of character. The old-fashioned authors--the Dumas, the Scotts, the Bulwer Lyttons, the Elliots--presented such men as their heroes. Were there no such men left in the world to-day? Or were the writers of modern fiction right when they depicted the men of to-day as fortune-hunters, egotistical coxcombs, conscienceless libertines, deliberate destroyers of women's virtue? Cynical as the reading of unwholesome books and witnessing salacious plays had made her, Grace had still a little of the romantic left in her. She was still healthy-minded enough to find romance more satisfying than the vulgar realism of the modern risqué novel. And as she lay there in her chair, basking in the warm sunshine, her eyes half closed, she abandoned herself momentarily to the sensuousness of the moment. In her imagination gradually took form the ideal hero her heart craved for. She was resting on a country road, and a man was approaching. He was tall, with dark, wavy hair and smooth face, and the clean-cut features of a Greek god. He knew she was rich, but he cared not, for he despised mere wealth, and he was about to pass by unheeding, when he chanced to notice her face, which pleased his sense of beauty. He stopped wondering, and, chatting with her, marveled at the liquid splendor of her eyes. This was the woman he had sought, the woman for whom he would toil and fight. He took her hand, and at his touch her heart leaped ecstatically. A strange thrill stirred her as he gazed hungrily into her eyes and gently drew her to him. Timidly she yielded to his ardent embrace, and as he clasped her soft form roughly to his strong breast and his warm lips met hers in a deep, lingering kiss that seemed to aspire her very soul, a sensation she had never known before invaded her entire being. She felt as though she would swoon. "Aren't you getting hungry, Grace? Whatever are you so engrossed about?" said Mrs. Stuart petulantly. The interruption was so sudden and abrupt that Grace was startled, and it was with some confusion that she replied: "Just thinking--that's all! This weather actually makes one foolish." "Good morning, ladies!" A shadow suddenly shut out the glare of the sun. Grace and Mrs. Stuart looked up. It was Captain Summers, who was walking the deck with Professor Hanson. The _Atlanta_'s commander was a typical sea-dog, big, broad-shouldered, with a deep bass voice and a face tanned by exposure to all sorts of weather. Contrasted with Professor Hanson, a nervous little man, with a bald, domelike cranium, he looked like a giant. Like most Englishmen, he was frigid in manner and not too amiable in his intercourse with the passengers. But Grace, Mrs. Stuart, and the professor happened to sit at his table, which made a difference. For them he condescended to unbend. He was not blind to the fact that Grace was an uncommonly good-looking girl, and Mrs. Stuart amused him. Touching his cap, he sank into the empty seat on the other side of Grace, while Professor Hanson drew up another chair. "How long can we expect this glorious weather to last, captain?" asked Mrs. Stuart, greeting the commander's salute with a gracious smile. "It's hard to say," he replied pleasantly, after a quick glance at the sky. "The barometer's steady enough now, but in these latitudes one may expect anything at any time. The Indian Ocean is as capricious in its moods as a woman. I've seen it as quiet as this at noon, yet by nightfall we'd run into such a storm that you'd think the ship would be blown out of the water." "Oh, dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Stuart, with a little nervous laugh. "I hope we shan't have any such experience. I'd die of fright." "Don't worry, m'm," replied the captain reassuringly. "There's no sign of a change." Gallantly he added: "I wouldn't hear of you ladies being put to the slightest inconvenience. I'll see that this weather continues until we arrive at Bombay." "When do we get in, captain?" demanded Grace languidly. "You're not getting tired of us, I hope," replied the commander, with a laugh. "Oh, no. I only want to know when I must begin to pack my trunks. You know, we're going on a motor tour inland." "Next Saturday we shall have the captain's dinner, with the dance afterward," interrupted Mrs. Stuart. "So I suppose they expect to land us Monday." "How about that, captain?" demanded the professor. Captain Summers looked at all three in an amused sort of way, and for a moment made no answer. Then gruffly he said: "A sailor of experience never ventures to make predictions. We are due at Bombay next Monday. If all goes well, I expect to land my passengers on that day. As Mrs. Stuart says, we shall entertain you at dinner and give you a dance on deck next Saturday, in honor of our arrival. But if anything delays us, don't be disappointed. We might run on a rock and go to the bottom. Or we might break our propellers. If that happened, we should be completely helpless. We might drift out of our course for weeks before help could reach us." "Oh, wouldn't that be awful!" cried Mrs. Stuart. "How could we summon assistance?" asked Grace eagerly. "By wireless, of course," broke in the professor, who assumed the air of superior knowledge on every subject broached. "The invention of wireless telegraphy has practically reduced the perils of seagoing to a negligible minimum." "Thank Heaven, we've got the wireless!" gasped Mrs. Stuart. "I could hug the man who invented it--Macaroni--what's his name?" "You mean Marconi, my dear madam," interposed the professor solemnly. "The wireless is all right as far as it goes," said the captain grimly. "Certainly its invention is a great step forward, but two things are essential for its success in a critical situation. Firstly, it must be in working order. In bad weather the aerial wires are apt to be put out of commission. Secondly, there must be a Marconi station or receiver within a few hundred miles of where you happen to be. If these conditions are not present, you might as well whistle!" Mrs. Stuart looked so depressed at this discouraging opinion that Grace could not repress a smile. Professor Hanson, never sorry of an opportunity to air his fund of information, went on pompously: "Captain, you spoke just now of running on a rock. Is it not a fact that in this ocean there are rocks and small islands not shown on the nautical charts, and that for this reason navigation in these waters is more dangerous than elsewhere?" For all reply, the commander gave vent to a loud guffaw and, with a side glance at Mrs. Stuart, winked slyly at Grace. "If we keep up this kind of talk, Mrs. Stuart will think we're doomed to come to grief of some kind. Let's be more cheerful." "Am I right or wrong, captain?" persisted the professor. "My information came from a naval man." The commander's face became set and stern, as it usually did when he was serious. Removing his cigar, he said slowly: "Your informant was right. For some reason or other, there is no such thing as an absolutely accurate chart of the Indian Ocean. They have talked for years of making a new chart, but, so far, nothing has been done. Yet we sailors who regularly navigate these waters know from experience that there are hereabouts currents strong enough to divert a vessel from her true course, and a number of small islands no mention of which is made on the existing charts. The Admiralty and Lloyds are well aware of the existence Of these dangers to navigation, but you all know what red tape is." "How delightfully romantic!" cried Grace, with enthusiasm. "Unexplored islands inhabited by savages who never saw white people, and who trade in beads and go naked!" "Cannibals, no doubt," suggested Mrs. Stuart, with an affected shudder. "Where are these islands?" inquired Grace. "A long way out of our course, I hope," laughed the captain. "Yet I've passed quite close to some of them. They seem quite deserted. So far as we could make out, there is not even animal life on them. But, being in the direct steamer lane to India, they constitute a menace to shipping that should be removed." "Most decidedly--most decidedly!" said the professor emphatically. Captain Summers arose to go. "It's very delightful chatting here," he said, with a smile; "but I must go up on the bridge and attend to my duties. Otherwise, we may bump right on to one of those islands." "By the way, captain," said Grace. "What has become of that poor fireman who made such a disturbance the day we sailed from New York?" The captain frowned. "Oh, he's down where he belongs--shoveling coal." Then he added: "Don't waste any sympathy on him. He's about as hard a character as you could find. Stokers are all troublesome as a class, but this Armitage fellow is quite unmanageable. I shall be glad to get rid of him. We had to put him on bread and water the first ten days out. It wasn't until he was nearly dead from starvation that he consented to go to work." "Stoking down in that pit in that terrific heat must be fearful!" exclaimed the professor. "Yes," growled the captain. "It is pretty bad. Most of them don't mind it, though. They aren't good for anything else. They're tough, coarse-fibered creatures, scarcely superior in instincts to the savage. They'd think nothing of running a knife into you, and that Armitage chap is worse than the worst of them. We've had trouble with him all along." "Still, after all," mused the professor, "we mustn't forget that it is they who make the ship go. We couldn't do without them. Every man has his place in the world's economy." "It must be very interesting to see them at work," remarked Grace. "I'd like to see what the stoke-hold looks like. Mr. Fitzhugh said he would take me down." Looking down the deck, she added: "Here he comes now. I'll ask him." "There's no time like the present," said the captain. "See Mr. Wetherbee, the chief engineer. He'll take you down." "Yes," said the professor pedantically. "The spectacle will be a good object lesson for you--a pampered daughter of the plutocracy. With a little imagination, you can see in the stoke-hold social conditions as they actually are in the world to-day. In the stokers you have the laborers, the mill-hands, the sweat-shop workers, the common people who toil painfully for pitiful wages, for their daily bread. We others up here, lolling in our luxurious steamer-chairs, living on the fat of the land--or, rather, sea, to be more correct--are the masters, the capitalists. It is the slave system of ancient Rome under another name, that's all. It's all wrong. Man's injustice to man is the great crime of the centuries. Why should I be here enjoying every comfort and those unfortunate men down there condemned to tortures as cruel as those devised by the merciless Inquisition." Captain Summers shrugged his massive shoulders, and, as he turned to go, said laughingly: "Mind you don't talk that way in the stoke-hold, or they might take you at your word and keep you down there." "No danger of that, captain," laughed Mrs. Stuart. "The professor's only theorizing, you know. It costs nothing to expound theory. He has no idea of exchanging places with the stokers." The commander guffawed loudly, and, with a parting salute to the ladies, turned on his heel and disappeared up the companionway. At that moment the Hon. Percy Fitzhugh came up, the inevitable monocle in his eye. "Oh, I say, Miss Harmon," he began, with his affected English drawl. "Be my partner at shuffleboard, eh, what?" Mrs. Stuart, irritated at an invitation which ignored her, answered for her ward: "Miss Harmon has more serious things to attend to. Don't come disturbing us with your idiotic games. We are intellectual here--talking socialism, cannibals, wireless, stoke-holds, and such things. If you can't be intellectual, keep away." "Mr. Fitzhugh," said Grace, laughing, "you promised to take me down to the stoke-hold. Suppose we all go now?" Mr. Fitzhugh beamed. The beautiful one had actually deigned to ask him a favor. Overcome with emotion, he stuttered his reply: "Delighted, of course. It'll be jolly good sport to see the beggars hard at work down there. I'll let the shuffleboard go hang. Come, we'll go and see the chief engineer, eh, what?" He assisted Grace and Mrs. Stuart to their feet, and, followed by the professor, they all made their way to Mr. Wetherbee's cabin. CHAPTER V. The chief engineer, a blunt-spoken Englishman, with bushy side-whiskers, was amiability itself, and readily consented to escort his visitors down to the region where he was king. "There's nothing very attractive down there!" he said, by way of warning. "Oh, I'm very anxious to see the poor fellows at the furnaces. It must be a most interesting sight," exclaimed Grace, with a flush of pleasurable anticipation. "Won't it spoil our frocks?" demanded Mrs. Stuart, apprehensive of damage to her white chiffon gown. The engineer took the question as almost a personal insult. "Bless you, no, m'm. It's as clean as Delmonico's kitchen. We're proud to show it for that reason. Of course, there's plenty of coal-dust flying down in the stoking-pit, where the firemen are, but you'll not go near enough to hurt. Follow me!" He led the way through a narrow door amid-ships, on the port side, and they found themselves in a steel-lined gallery, well lighted and fitted on all sides with steel ladders, pipes, and valves. The hissing of escaping steam and the roar of powerful machinery in motion made any attempt at speaking impossible. "This is the engine-room," shouted Mr. Wetherbee. Looking down, they saw mighty arms of polished, well-greased steel rise, swing slowly and descend rapidly on the other side. The huge rods of metal ascended and fell again with great rapidity, with a rhythmical, irresistible sweep that was fascinating to watch, making at each thrust and uplift a rushing, roaring noise like the simultaneous blows of a hundred sledge-hammers. "A man was caught in there once," shouted the engineer, so as to make himself heard above the din. "It was just before the ship sailed. The poor fellow noticed that the crank needed oil, and thought he had time to do it before we started. Just as he was finishing, the signal 'Go ahead' came from the bridge. We didn't know he was in the pit, and we pulled the steam-chest lever. The massive arm rose. He shrieked. Before we could stop the machinery, it dropped again, and he was ground to pieces before our eyes." Grace shuddered while the engineer calmly went on to explain the particular use of each part of the wonderful mechanism over which he had supreme control, speaking of each with as much affection as if it were his own offspring. "Those cranks turn the shaft which gives the propellers their thousand revolutions a minute. The vibration you notice is caused by the enormous steam pressure. Two hundred pounds of steam pressing against every square inch of boiler surface represents power equal to the strength of 10,000 horses." Patting the head of the great beam as it rose to him, he added: "This is the best friend we've got--never tired, always true. But for this we should not be cutting through the water at the speed of twenty knots an hour." Turning to an iron staircase on the left, he said: "We'll go now to the boiler-room and see how we make the steam that gives life to the cylinders." Beckoning them to follow, he disappeared down a steep stairway, spiral in form, which reached from the promenade-deck down to the very bottom of the vessel. The engineer gallantly extended his hand to assist Grace, and Professor Hanson, not quite sure himself of his footing, made a pretense of rendering similar service to Mrs. Stuart. Mr. Fitzhugh brought up the rear, stepping gingerly. Down they went, round and round, threading their way along an amazing labyrinth of valves, levers, gauges, eccentrics, tubes, and steam-pipes. They were now deep down in the bowels of the ship, a region with a sickening smell of machine-oil and steam. Down, down they went, past the coal-bunkers, following the engineer. The stairway being only imperfectly lighted by electric bulbs, they had to tread carefully. It grew perceptibly hotter. Presently they saw double rows of boilers set sideways. They were in the stoke-hold. "Look out!" The warning cry came from Mr. Wetherbee, who stopped short and held out his arms to prevent the visitors proceeding any farther. Then he shouted: "There are the furnaces! You'd better shade your eyes!" There was a sudden glare which was almost blinding, a roar of flames under forced draught, and a wave of sickening heat. The air all at once became so thick with flying particles of coal that it was difficult to breathe. Choking, coughing, Grace and her companions clutched nervously at the slender guard-rail which alone interposed between the steel gallery where they stood and the inferno of smell, noise, and heat below. An extraordinary spectacle presented itself to their eyes. In the blackness underneath, between the rows of boilers, were the stoking-pits, in which fourteen fires, each raging at a fierce white heat, glowed angrily like the red cavernous maws of legendary monsters. Through the open furnace doors issued a blinding light that only intensified the surrounding gloom. Standing about, recoiling from the withering heat, could be seen a dozen stalwart forms. Every now and then they advanced quickly to the furnace, to throw on fresh fuel or to rake the glowing coal, and in the vivid light they were seen to be human beings, but so begrimed and terrible of aspect as to be well-nigh unrecognizable as men. They were entirely naked from the waist up, and so covered with coal-dust from head to heel that they looked like negroes. Only the white circles around the bloodshot eyes and their straight hair betrayed the true color of their skins. They worked silently and resignedly, like men accursed, and doomed for some sin committed to everlasting toil and torment. Mere machines of flesh and sinew, they executed with the rapidity and expertness of long practise certain mechanical movements, their toughened muscles and iron frame standing the strain and heat with amazing endurance, sweat literally pouring off their faces and bodies in streams. At moments the heat became intolerable--the stoker himself caught fire. His skin began to blister, his hair started to smoke. He gave a shout, and a comrade quickly emptied a bucket of water over him, throwing off a cloud of steam. Thus temporarily relieved, he set to his devilish task again. It was the hardest kind of labor known to man, but, like the ancient stoics, the stokers gave no sign of their suffering. They toiled uncomplainingly in grim silence, as if resigned to accept this degraded, painful occupation as their proper lot in life. They worked on and on until gradually even their great strength gave out. Overcome by the appalling heat, suffocating from lack of fresh air, one by one they were forced to fall back and give place to fresher men. The daintily gowned, carefully groomed passengers from the first cabin watched them, fascinated. It was difficult for Grace, who had seen nothing but plenty around her since she came into the world, to understand that there were human beings so miserably poor, so low down in the social scale that they had to earn their bread in this way. The literalness of the saying "making a living by the sweat of one's brow" dawned upon her for the first time. She was shocked, and then she felt sorry--sorry that any human being should be so degraded. A sense of guilt came over her, as if she realized that the luxuries her class loved and exacted were responsible for this degradation, this suffering. She wondered where the refractory fireman was, and presently she perceived him, emerging from the gloom, approaching the roaring furnace, steel rod in hand, to rake the fiery coal, covering his face with his unemployed hand to ward off the blistering heat. He was easily recognizable in spite of his forbidding, ghoulish aspect, towering as he did several inches above his comrades. Built like a Hercules, he had a torso that would have given joy to the great Praxiteles himself. His lines were academic, the muscles on his massive yet admirably molded shoulders and arms stood out like whip-cords, and as he stood before the open fire, working the steel rod in and out, one leg thrust forward, the rest of the body thrown backward to avoid the heat, his pose recalled one of David's Latin warriors about to let fly a javelin at the enemy. "By Jove!" exclaimed Mr. Fitzhugh. "There's the chap who made such a fuss when we sailed." "Yes, that's the fellow!" said the chief engineer. "He's going his 'shift' readily enough now, but we've had a hard time with him. He had to be driven to work like a dog. He's a surly brute and always ready for a fight. You'd better not attract his attention." So far, the stokers had not noticed the visitors' presence, but Mr. Fitzhugh's exclamation made them look up. One of the firemen laughed, and said something in an undertone to a comrade, whereupon the man grinned, and, turning to the others, pointed to the Hon. Percy, who, with his monocle, his green Tyrolian hat and white spats, looked comical enough to excite derision. The jeers attracted the attention of Armitage, who dropped back from the furnace he was cleaning out and glared up at the intruders. He clenched his fist and ground his teeth as he saw these perfumed, pampered passengers watching them as they might view wild animals in a cage. It made his blood boil to see their clean skins, their fine clothes. No doubt, they had not done a day's honest work in their lives. That animated monkey with the monocle and white spats, and those dainty dolls in laces and jewels, came simply from idle curiosity, to gibe at their dirty, miserable appearance, to mock at their sufferings. The thought maddened him. In a frenzy of rage, he shook his fist in the direction of the little gallery where Grace and her party stood. "Get out of here!" he shouted furiously. "We don't want you! This isn't a circus! Get out--do you hear?" He stooped quickly, and, picking up a heavy piece of coal, lifted his arm as if about to hurl it in their direction. Grace, frightened, recoiled, and her companions also shrank back. Mr. Fitzhugh and the professor had already bolted up the spiral stairway. The chief engineer said quietly to Grace: "You'd better go. There's no telling how he might excite the other men. I regret very much that you should have been subjected to his insults. He's half-crazy. Leave me to deal with him!" Shaking his fist at the fireman, he shouted: "You'll pay for this, Armitage. This means another dose of the 'hospital' for you!" "Go to hell!" cried the stoker's hoarse voice. Grace and Mrs Stuart were breathless when they reached the deck, and they gave a sigh of relief when they were able once more to fill their lungs with fresh air. "What a shocking place!" exclaimed Mrs. Stuart, examining her gown to see if she had sustained any damage. "What a terrible man!" echoed Grace. CHAPTER VI. All day it had been uncomfortably hot and oppressive. The blazing sun looked like a molten disk in a copper-colored sky. The horizon was veiled in a sort of milky haze. The sea had quieted down to a dead calm. There was not so much as a ripple on the ocean's smooth, oil-like surface. The big liner was still pounding her way toward Bombay. Another two days and the passengers would go ashore. Saturday afternoon had already arrived. Sailors were busy rigging canvas and putting up decorations for the dance which was to take place that evening. In a cozy corner of the promenade-deck an animated group, which included Grace, Mrs. Stuart, Mrs. Phelps, Count von Hatzfeld, and Professor Hanson, were taking tea. "I don't see how we can dance in this heat! I think we'd better put off the ball, don't you, count?" exclaimed Grace, appealing to Mrs. Phelps' aristocratic admirer. Count Herbert von Hatzfeld was the typical Teuton, tall and blond, with soldierly bearing. His mustache had the uptwist dear to the Kaiser. He had good teeth, polished ways, and an engaging smile. Like most Germans, his speech was stiff and slow, and he sat bolt upright, as if he had accidentally swallowed a poker, which made it impossible for him to unbend. Grace's suggestion did not seem to appeal to him, for, with a hasty glance at Mrs. Phelps, who appeared engrossed in something Professor Hanson was saying, he replied: "Ach--that is nothing. I like dancing with you in the heat better than not dancing at all." Grace purposely ignored the compliment. She had no desire to make Mrs. Phelps jealous; so, hastening to draw the widow into the conversation, she leaned over to her. "What do you think about it, Mrs. Phelps? I just told the count that I thought it too hot to dance to-night. What's your opinion?" "Oh, dear, no," laughed the widow, fanning herself. "Let's enjoy ourselves as long as we can. This weather's nothing to what we shall get in the interior of India. I wouldn't miss the dance for anything." "Mrs. Stuart, may I trouble you for some more tea?" asked Professor Hanson, with his customary exaggerated politeness. "You, professor, may have anything," replied Mrs. Stuart, with a smile meant to be fascinating. Archly she added: "You know, I call you my walking encyclopedia. Just think what you've taught me on this voyage--all about ocean currents, the stars, wireless telegraphy. You are a wonderful man." The professor bowed and preened himself as he sugared his tea. "You flatter me, my dear madam. Really, you flatter me. It has been an honor and delight to talk with so charming and intelligent a woman." "Do you hear that, Grace?" laughed Mrs. Stuart. "The professor says I'm charming and intelligent." "_Ja wohl_, it is true--it is true," exclaimed the count gallantly. "You are very charming. The herr professor vouches for your intelligence also. He is more competent than I to pass on that question. But I can certainly vouch for your being irresistibly charming." Mrs. Phelps frowned. For some reason she seemed to regard Mrs. Stuart as more dangerous than Grace. Fanning herself vigorously, she exclaimed: "It is hotter than I thought it was. I think we're in a warm corner. Count, suppose we take a turn on deck." "_Ja wohl_--if you wish it," responded the German, rising with native politeness. Somewhat reluctantly, Mrs. Stuart thought, he joined Mrs. Phelps, and they walked off briskly together down the deck. "Now they're gone, you'll have to amuse us, professor," laughed Mrs. Stuart. "I wish I had some one to fan me," complained Grace languidly. "Allow me," exclaimed the professor eagerly. Dapper and enthusiastic, he danced around, and, drawing up a chair, took the fan which Grace willingly surrendered. The professor was not exactly the man of her day-dreams, but he was as good as any one else to arrange the rugs around her chair or to pick up the things she was continually dropping. No one had seen the Hon. Percy Fitzhugh for the last two days. He had not dared to show his face on deck since his ignominious flight from the stoke-hold. "Why is it so sultry, professor?" asked Grace wearily. The professor fanned her gently, taking mental inventory as the gentle breeze he made stirred his companion's veil. Her aristocratic features, her transparent, satinlike skin, her long silky lashes drooping on a velvety cheek, half concealing her dark, soul-disturbing eyes, the slender white neck and full bosom covered with dainty open laces partially concealing hidden charms, and an upturned, wistful mouth, with full red lips that suggested unholy delights--all this the professor noted, and he turned away his head and sighed. For all his science, he was, after all, only a man. And, alas, he had a wife at home. Besides, who knew better than he--the man of science--the futility of lifting one's eyes to the stars. He fanned on in philosophic silence. "Tell me why is it so hot?" repeated Grace, quite unconscious of the emotions she was stirring in her bespectacled _vis-à-vis_. "Really, I don't know," said the professor, startled out of his reveries. Looking around at the sky, he added: "I think we're going to have a change in the weather." "Oh, I hope not!" exclaimed Mrs. Stuart anxiously. "What makes you think that?" "Well," replied the professor, scanning with the expert air of a weather prophet the distant horizon, where the fiery sun was sinking behind a great mass of purple cloud, "I don't much like the formation of those clouds over there. In these latitudes they usually portend a storm of considerable violence. The sultriness, the unnatural calm, are all storm warnings to the sailor, and if another proof were wanted, the barometer has been falling rapidly all day. We're sure to get something before long." "Anything's better than this heat," yawned Grace. "I'd love to see a big storm, with tremendous waves washing all over the ship." "Really, Grace, I think it's horrid of you to talk that way," protested Mrs. Stuart, half in jest, half in earnest. "If we were wrecked or something, it would serve you right." "I wouldn't mind being wrecked," laughed Grace. "It would be awfully romantic--so different from our conventional, humdrum life. Just fancy, professor, if the ship were wrecked and you and I were cast away on a desert island, with only monkeys, snakes, and possibly savages for neighbors!" "You jest, Miss Harmon," replied the professor seriously. "But such things have occurred. Don't you remember what happened to the passengers of the _Aeon_, when that steamer was wrecked on Christmas Island? The survivors were ten weeks on a barren rock in the South Pacific. One woman's hair, which was brown, without a trace of gray, when she sailed on the _Aeon_, turned almost white, as a result of the privations and nerve strain endured on the island." "Yes, I remember reading about it in the papers," said Mrs. Stuart. "Possibly she lost her hair dye in the panic." "I'd look pretty with white hair," laughed Grace. "It's the fashion now to wear tufts of white hair among your own." "If a cannibal cooked you _à la fricassee_, it wouldn't matter how you looked!" growled Mrs. Stuart. "Talking of desert islands," said the professor thoughtfully, "a very interesting sociological problem might be solved if one had the time to be shipwrecked and the courage to put my theory to the test." "What theory is that?" demanded Grace, with languid curiosity. The professor peered dubiously at both women over his gold-rimmed spectacles, as if questioning their ability to grasp intellectual problems of any nature. Then pedantically, pompously, as if addressing a college class, he went on: "Ethnology and sociology, as you are perhaps aware, are pet sciences with me. I have always taken keen interest in studying man in his relations to his fellow man, particularly in his relations with women." He paused, as if afraid he had said something indelicate. Mrs. Stuart sat up, made her pillows more comfortable, and said, with a laugh: "This sounds interesting. Go on, professor!" Thus encouraged, the professor continued: "We must not lose sight of the fact that man as we see him to-day--clean-shaven, manicured, trouser-creased--is only a step removed from the naked savage ancestor who in the palæolithic age emerged from his cave, club in hand, to defend his family or provide it with food. The man of the stone age tore flesh from the skeletons of wild animals he slew, and made of his wife a beast of burden. To-day, our city dweller employs a French _chef_, and buys for his wife a box at the opera. Conditions have altered radically since the dawn of history, thousands of years of education and refining influences have tamed the primeval man and woman and taught them how to keep their instincts, their passions, under control. Yet the change is far more apparent than real. Civilization is purely artificial. It is only a compromise, a convention. Our boasted refinement at best is little more than skin deep. There's an old saying: 'Scratch a Russian and you'll find a Tartar.' We might also say: 'Scratch civilized man and you'll find a primeval brute.' Fundamentally, men and women of to-day are the same as their savage ancestors, they are moved by the same impulses and desires as when in the dark quaternary epoch they roamed naked through the virgin forests, ferocious-looking and bestial in appetite, their matted hair falling over their brutal faces, their prominent teeth sharp and pointed like wolves' fangs. By nature we are thieves, murderers, liars, cheats." "You have a fine opinion of your fellow men, I must say," interrupted Grace, with a mischievous smile at Mrs. Stuart. "I am stating a cold, scientific fact, and one that is unqualifiedly endorsed by every self-respecting ethnologist," replied the professor firmly. "Civilization," he went on, "teaches us that it is wrong to kill, to steal, to lie, and society has amended Nature's law by decreeing that the murderer shall be executed, the thief imprisoned, the liar and cheat ostracized. That, frankly, is the chief reason why the majority of us behave ourselves. But some men are so constituted that they are unable to control their brutal instincts, their evil passions. Morally and mentally, sometimes physically, even, they resemble in striking fashion their savage prototypes of six thousand years ago. For instance, take that fireman Armitage--a colossus in physical strength, obeying only brutal impulses, to all intents and purposes an untutored barbarian. Civilization, you see, has done nothing for him. He is the primeval man. To me he is interesting, for he proves the truth of my atavistic theory." Grace yawned. The professor was too deep for her. In fact, she found him rather tiresome, particularly as she could not guess what he was driving at. Mrs. Stuart, however, was a more attentive, if somewhat puzzled, listener. "But what has all this to do with being wrecked on a desert island?" she demanded. The professor smiled in a superior kind of way. "Allow me to come to my point," he said, with a lordly wave of his hand. "Suppose a ship like the _Atlanta_, for instance, were wrecked, and the only two persons who survived the disaster--a man and a woman--found themselves on a desert island, far from the regular track of steamers and with the remotest chance of any vessel seeing their signal of distress. Suppose the man was one of the crew, a common sailor, a brute, say, of the type of that Armitage fellow, and the woman one of the first-cabin passengers, a beautiful, highly cultured girl, rich, luxury-loving, fastidious, such, for instance, as Miss Harmon----" "Please do me the favor to leave me out of your comparisons," interrupted Grace coldly. She did not exactly relish the coupling of her name with that of a disreputable stoker. "Oh--I only wanted to make my meaning as plain as possible," stuttered the professor, in profuse apology. "Your meaning isn't plain at all!" retorted Grace, not knowing whether to laugh or to be angry. "It's about as dense as an Irish Channel fog. But I grasp enough to see that it's interesting," exclaimed Mrs. Stuart. "Please don't talk in parables any longer, professor. Come quickly to the point. I'm getting interested." "This is the point," smiled the professor. "What would be this man's and woman's attitude to each other? Separated under normal social conditions by the widest gulf imaginable, on the desert island they would be thrown together in the closest intimacy. The highly educated woman, the refined product of centuries of high breeding, would suddenly find herself the associate and helpmate of an uncouth, brutal fellow barely redeemed from barbarism. Necessity would compel her to look to him for food. Instinct would prompt him to build her a shelter from the elements, and to protect her from attack. As their enforced sojourn on the island grew longer, the common sailor would begin to cast covetous, lustful eyes on his involuntary companion, and as each day the hope of rescue became more remote, he might insist on ties the very suggestion of which would overwhelm her with horror. Yet with no one but God above to call upon for help, she would be completely at the man's mercy. She would be powerless to resist or to deny herself. Her refinement, her culture, her high intelligence, would go for nothing. The primeval man, the beast, would assert his rights and only death could save her honor from the exercise of his brutal force." "What a horrid nightmare to conjure up," interrupted Grace, with a shudder. "If such a thing happened to me, I'd jump into the sea." "I'd pick up a carving-knife and stick him in the ribs," exclaimed Mrs. Stuart, laughing. "I don't think either of you would do anything of the sort," rejoined the professor. "The sailor would quickly pull Miss Harmon out of the water, and there wouldn't be carving-knives lying around with which to do any rib-sticking. No, you would let Nature work out the problem." "What!" cried both women simultaneously. "You mean to say that we should----" "No--not at all," smiled the professor. "You go too quickly. I have merely stated the sailor's desires. Now, the interesting question arises: Will he exercise his rights as the stronger, will he drag this delicate, highly nurtured girl down to his own animal level, or will she by sheer force of character, by her fine mentality and spiritual force, be able to tame the beast and lift him up to her level? That is the problem--a most interesting one from the sociological standpoint; but it could be solved only by being put to an actual test." "I hope you don't expect either of us to make the experiment," laughed Mrs. Stuart. "If you did, I should certainly aspire to be the sailor," retorted, gallantly, the man of science. "The hypothesis is an interesting one," said Grace thoughtfully. "After all, the situation is not impossible." The professor rubbed his hands with satisfaction. "Quite so--quite so!" he replied. "What, in your opinion, would be the outcome?" For a moment Grace left the question unanswered. Then, decisively, she said: "Such a girl would never yield. Her training, her pride, her self-respect, would protect her. She would die before she degraded herself." "The idea is preposterous!" exclaimed Mrs. Stuart impatiently. The professor shook his head. "My dear ladies, you are both mistaken. I once knew a New York girl, highly educated, wealthy, popular with her friends, who gave up everything, a luxurious home, her position in society, to follow the man she loved--a full-blooded Indian--back to the tents of his people. To-day that girl is living Indian fashion on a Western reservation. In place of her one-time elegance she wears her hair down over her shoulders, an old blanket keeps her warm, her proud carriage has given place to the uncertain, shambling gait, on her back is strapped her Indian papoose. Her old life is practically blotted out." "Ah," interrupted Grace, "but that is a different case. She loved the Indian. If the girl on the island loved the sailor, she might fall, too, but love should never degrade. On the contrary, it should redeem and uplift the man." The professor nodded approvingly. "Bravo! bravo!" he cried. "Really, Grace, I had no idea you were so sentimental!" exclaimed Mrs. Stuart. "In other words," went on the professor, addressing the younger woman, "you think----" "I think," replied Grace slowly and deliberately, "that if they found they loved each other, she would not quite descend to his level nor would he quite ascend to hers. There would be a compromise. In other words, she would stoop; he would reach up. That is my view." "A most sensible view--most sensible!" said the professor, with enthusiasm. Mrs. Stuart sprang up from her chair. Collecting her wraps, she said: "This debate is highly interesting and instructive, but if I stop to listen to any more I shall never be dressed for dinner. Come, Grace, don't forget we dine earlier to-night, because of the dance." The professor assisted Grace to her feet. "Thanks," she said. "I've enjoyed our talk so much. You've set me thinking. It's so seldom one is encouraged to think of anything worth while." The ladies disappeared below, and the professor, tipping his cap, turned on his heel and continued his walk. On the promenade-deck, where a dozen sailors were busy preparing for the evening's coming festivities, he met Captain Summers, who was enjoying a smoke before dinner. "Well, captain, pretty warm for dancing, eh? Is it going to get any cooler?" The captain stopped short and squinted around at the sky. As he took in the weather signs, an anxious look came into his face, and he replied gruffly: "We'll get something to-night, that's sure. The glass is falling rapidly. But I wouldn't say anything about it to the ladies, if I were you." CHAPTER VII. Enclosed with sail-cloth for almost its entire length, brilliantly illuminated by hundreds of electric bulbs skilfully clustered in the folds of the artistically draped bunting, with its crowds of dancers, the women with their beautiful gowns, white shoulders and flashing jewels, the ship's officers in full uniform, the men passengers in dress coats--the promenade-deck presented an animated scene of gaiety, light, and color, rendered all the more striking by the sharp contrast with the inky darkness beyond the steamer's rail. The steward's orchestra, screened behind a bank of decorative plants in a railed-off space at the far end of the deck, was playing a dreamy Waldteufel waltz, and the gay, laughing couples, their faces slightly flushed from champagne, whirling gracefully to the strains of the languorous music, made up a picture that appealed sensuously to ear and eye. Grace was dancing with Count von Hatzfeld. In a décolleté, clinging gown of rose-colored chiffon, cut to set off to full advantage her snow-white shoulders and perfect figure, never had she looked so radiant. Around her slender throat was a string of priceless pearls, a gift from her father, and her hair, dark and lustrous, was arranged in a Grecian Psyche knot with gold bands. She held undisputed sway as belle of the ball, and covetous feminine eyes, ardent masculine eyes, followed her and her lucky partner as they waltzed up and down the deck. Both tall and graceful, they made a striking couple. The count held her pressed closely to him as they turned slowly to the measured time of the voluptuous music. Her eyes were closed and her head drooped slightly on his shoulder. To him it seemed like a taste of heaven to hold this beautiful creature in such close embrace, and as he inhaled the subtle aroma that emanated from her skin and hair, like some exquisite, unfamiliar perfume, intoxicating in its effect, he wondered how he could have been such an ass to waste so many precious hours on Mrs. Phelps. But Grace was not thinking of the count. He was not the type of man to interest her. She enjoyed dancing for itself, and she abandoned herself to it without a thought of the man who might happen to be her partner. She loved the graceful, rhythmical movement of the waltz, the rapid whirling round and round which made her heart beat tumultuously, the languorous music which intoxicated. She loved the luxury of costly costumes, the odor of beautiful flowers, the sparkle of diamonds and the careless gaiety and unconsequential chatter of the people of her own set. In short, hers was purely a sensual enjoyment--not materially different to that she aroused in the men--but she did not realize it. "_Ach_, this is divine!" whispered the count. "May I have the next waltz?" At that moment a couple brushed past them. "There's Mrs. Phelps with Mr. Fitzhugh," said Grace mischievously. "She would scratch my eyes out if she caught me dancing with you again so soon." "I care not," replied the German recklessly and ardently. "When I see your eyes, the world is dead to me." A compliment of this kind would have pleased most women, but Grace was accustomed to them. They rather irritated her. "I'm tired now," she said languidly. "Please take me to my seat." They joined Mrs. Stuart, who, comfortably ensconced in a corner, was flirting desperately with Mr. Brown, the second officer, a tall, handsome man, smart-looking in his full-dress uniform and white gloves. The count murmured his thanks, bowed, and retired. "I'm so thirsty!" gasped Grace, sinking into a chair. "I wish I had an ice." "Allow me to get you one," said Mr. Brown. Before she could protest, the second officer had disappeared in the direction of the saloon, where an elaborate supper was laid out. Mrs. Stuart turned to her protégée: "Grace, you've made a tremendous hit to-night. Your pearls look magnificent. All the women are raving about them." "They ought to be," replied Grace indifferently. "They cost enough." "Forty thousand, didn't you say?" "I think that's what dad paid." "Lucky girl! They might be glass for all you seem to care." Grace made a gesture of impatience as she answered: "What good are they? Merely pretty gewgaws. Their value means nothing to me. I'm sick of hearing what things cost. They won't bring me what I want most." "What's that--a husband?" smiled Mrs. Stuart. "Yes," replied Grace petulantly. "A husband--a man I could respect enough to want to marry. I lose patience with all these animated monkeys that dangle after me. I want a real man." "Not very kind to the count after he's been so attentive to you all the evening," replied Mrs. Stuart, elevating her eyebrows. "No wonder you're tired, after dancing every single dance. I should be dead in your place. It's all very well to be the belle of the ball, but it's wearing on the nerves. I'm satisfied to play wallflower and talk to the second officer. You've no idea how perfectly fascinating he is. His gold braid and buttons are too cute for anything! What was the count breathing down your neck?" "Oh, a lot of foolishness!" laughed Grace. "Take care," exclaimed Mrs. Stuart, holding up a warning finger. "I saw Mrs. Phelps glaring at you several times. Besides, Germans make impossible husbands. The common German is gross, the educated German is conceited. Both are insufferable. You'd be miserable." "Don't be alarmed, dear," smiled Grace. "I think no more of the count than I do of those musicians, not so much. Their music charms and he bores." Mr. Brown reappeared, followed by a steward carrying a tray on which were ices and _petits fours_. "Oh, how perfectly sweet of you!" exclaimed Mrs. Stuart. "I was dying for an ice--the heat is positively dreadful." "It's getting warmer every minute," panted Grace. "I can hardly breathe. I think we're going to have a storm, don't you, Mr. Brown?" "Oh--I don't know," replied the officer hesitatingly. "It's always hot in these latitudes, you know. This is nothing to what you'll get in Bombay." "Yes, I know," said Grace, nibbling daintily at the delicious frozen delicacy, "but there's something weird in the unnatural stillness of the air. I don't like to see the water so calm." The second officer shifted uneasily about on his feet. He knew well that there was every indication of a storm. The barometer had been falling steadily for hours. The latest reading marked ten-twenty-nine, which was the lowest he had ever seen it. The captain, too, was uneasy. In fact, they were only waiting for the dance to break up to hurry and get everything shipshape for the blow which they knew was inevitable. Meantime, he argued to himself, there was no use in alarming the ladies or spoiling their fun. He was about to put off further questioning by some reassuring remark, when just then a quartermaster ran up, and, touching his cap, said: "Cap'n wishes to see you on the bridge, sir." "Very well, I'll come at once." Turning to the ladies, Mr. Brown excused himself, and, with a salute, went away, followed by the sailor. The gaiety was now at its height. It was impossible to move about the deck, so crowded was it with dancers and promenaders. Suddenly the concealed orchestra struck up the dulcet strains of Strauss' _Blue Danube_, and once more the couples began gliding and turning on the spotless deck, the women's gowns making a beautiful and ever-changing kaleidoscope of color and motion. Everybody was in high spirits. The women were flirting and drinking champagne. The men were laughing and having what the Hon. Percy Fitzhugh declared a ripper of a good time. It was a festival of fortune's favorites, a merrymaking of those lucky few who have nothing to do but enjoy life's pleasures. * * * * * Up on top of the deckhouse, hidden among the ventilators and smokestacks, two men gloomily watched the gay scene below. They were grimy with coal-dust and they wore greasy clothes, with tattered coats buttoned close to their necks. Hot as was the night, it felt cool to them, accustomed as they were to the withering heat of the furnaces below. One was Armitage; the other was Bill. The two stokers had crawled out of the inferno to steal a breath of fresh air. The scene before them seemed like a vision of fairyland. "Gee whiz!" exclaimed Bill, when he had somewhat recovered from his astonishment. "It's like at the theayter. Get on to 'em lights and the flags, will ye, and the bloomin' musicians! Look at 'em women folk dancin' all decked out in their sparklers, and 'em blokes wid their open-faced clothes! Officers, too, has on their Sunday duds. And, by gosh! If they ain't drinkin' fizz! Say, ain't it great to be rich!" "Let them dance!" growled Armitage savagely, as he sullenly watched the merry crowd. "They'd dance to another tune if the boilers were suddenly to burst, or if the ship ran foul of a rock." Fiercely, he added: "D--n 'em! I'd like to see them down on their blessed knees, weeping and praying!" To him these men and women, enjoying themselves in fine clothes, with plenty of money, without a care, represented the enemy. They belonged to the class that had wronged him, the world that had been trampling on him all these years. They were those who laughed when he suffered, who threw him a bone as one does to a dog. How he hated them! He ground his teeth at the consciousness of his own impotence to do them injury. "That's all right!" grinned Bill. "But anythin' as happens to 'em would catch us, too. I ain't ready for Davy Jones' locker yet." Still watching the brilliant crowd below, as if fascinated, Armitage replied with an oath: "I'm ready for anything. I'd just as soon go to the bottom as not. What do you fellows get out of life, anyhow? Nothing but hard work, kicks, and curses--scarcely enough to eat, while those swells have more than they know what to do with. And they never earned a cent of it." Savagely, he went on: "It's dead wrong, I tell you. Why should one come into the world poor and the other rich? Do you wonder I hate them?" On the deck beneath, Grace rose from her chair and took Count von Hatzfeld's proffered arm. The count had been most persistent in asking for another dance, and to get rid of his importunities, she had consented. Slowly they began to turn to the charming strains of the _Fledermaus_ waltz, their tall, graceful figures making them conspicuous among all the other dancers. "Say!" exclaimed Bill. "Does ye see that tall gal dancin' wid the guy wid the Dutch whiskers? Ain't she a stunner?" Armitage's eyes followed those of his mate until they alighted on Grace, when they were immediately arrested. For a few minutes he said nothing, watching in silence the proud beauty who was the cynosure of every eye on deck. With growing interest he took mental note of her dark, flashing eyes, her slender neck and snow-white shoulders, her splendid figure, beautiful hair, and graceful carriage. "She's pretty, all right!" he muttered, at last. "Look at those pearls round her neck. They're worth a fortune. Isn't she one of those women who came down to the stoke-hold the other day?" Before Bill could reply there was a flash of lightning, followed by a sharp clap of thunder. The sail-cloths began to flap ominously. On their grimy faces the two stokers felt drops of rain. "We're in for it!" cried Bill. "Did ye see 'em storm-clouds?" There was another glare, more vivid than the first, followed almost immediately by a report that left no doubt of the violence of the storm which was fast approaching. The flash revealed a mass of low-lying clouds, swollen with moisture to the bursting point, around which danced lurid green flames. The wind was rising rapidly with a sinister moan. The sea, while still smooth, was seething and covered with foam like water boiling. "It's goin' to be a corker!" shouted Bill. "Let's get in before it breaks." Without waiting to see if Armitage was following him, he ran back to the ventilator up which both men had climbed, and disappeared. CHAPTER VIII. Below on the promenade-deck all was excitement and confusion. The peal of thunder had spread consternation among the women, and there was a general stampede for shelter. The first rush of wind played terrible havoc with the bunting. The floral decorations were scattered in all directions. Part of the canvas awning was torn down. Chairs, tables, and glasses crashed to the deck. Amid the uproar were heard the harsh commands of the ship's officers, and the running here and there of sailors, as they hastened to execute orders. The wind squall died away as quickly as it had come, and for a brief spell the turmoil was succeeded by an unnatural quiet. Some of the passengers, inexperienced in weather signs, thought the worst was over, but the wiseacres shook their heads. It was the lull before the onrushing storm. Grace and Mrs. Stuart had fled inside at the first alarm, and they both stood at the saloon entrance, peering nervously into the darkness beyond the rail, anxiously questioning Professor Hanson and Count von Hatzfeld, who tried to reassure them. The Honorable Percy Fitzhugh, his face white and visibly nervous, was so excited that he stuck his monocle in the wrong eye. "I don't think it will amount to much," asserted the professor, in his pompous, authoritative way. The words were barely spoken when he was rudely contradicted. Another blinding flash rent the heavens, revealing great masses of forbidding-looking clouds scudding across the sky and hanging so low that they seemed almost to touch the water. A terrific report followed, which shook the ship. "Oh, I'm so frightened!" wailed Mrs. Stuart, clinging nervously to Mr. Fitzhugh's arm, much to the annoyance of that gentleman, who felt none too comfortable himself. "Nonsense, Cora, don't be so foolish!" protested Grace. "We're perfectly safe here, no matter what happens." "She's beginning to roll," said the professor, as the ship gave a sudden lurch. "Why are we rolling--is it getting rough?" asked Grace, who was beginning to show signs of trepidation. "There doesn't seem to be any wind." "It's so deuced dark one can't see a bally thing!" stammered Mr. Fitzhugh. The night was pitch-dark, and after the brilliancy of the electric lights, to which their eyes had grown accustomed all evening, the surrounding wall of blackness seemed all the more opaque and impenetrable. Still, there was no wind, and the heat was suffocating. The uncanny silence continued. What could be seen of the sea was smooth, and oily, and illuminated in spots with green phosphorescent lights. A deep swell had set in. Rolling in great billows from the south, it caused the steamer to rock so violently that the women had to hold fast in order to keep their feet. "Isn't this rolling horrible? Each minute I imagine the steamer is going to turn over!" exclaimed Mrs. Stuart, so alarmed that she hardly knew what she was saying. "A heavy swell like this," explained the professor calmly, "either follows a gale or comes in advance of one. This sea is evidently the forerunner of a storm. The ladies had better go below before it gets any worse." "I wouldn't think of going to bed," declared Mrs. Stuart emphatically. "Just think if we had to take to the boats and I were in my curl-papers." Still no wind; only a weird moaning in the distance, which was distinctly audible amid the profound, mysterious silence. The lightning, now more frequent, revealed a sky terrifying in aspect. The suspense was nerve-racking to the stoutest hearted. The captain was heard shouting orders on the bridge. Officers and sailors hurried aft, and, driving the passengers below, closed and barricaded the storm doors. Gathered at the port-holes, their anxiety increasing each moment, the passengers waited and watched. Momentarily, the sea grew more convulsive. The waves increased perceptibly in size, and the ship rocked more violently. Nearer and nearer came that weird, depressing, wailing sound, like the moaning of all the unhappy souls that were ever drowned in the treacherous waters of the deep. Grace and her companions, now thoroughly alarmed, felt that something extraordinary was about to happen, and it did. All at once it came. There was a blinding sheet of greenish flame, followed by a deafening report. Then hell itself broke loose. The hurricane was upon them. It came with a terrifying rush of air, which, screeching and howling, raced along at a velocity of a hundred miles an hour, accompanied by torrents of rain. Nothing could withstand the whirlwind's fearful force. Everything loose on deck was instantly swept away. The Marconi aerial wires, snapping like twine, were rendered useless in an instant, the life-boats strained at their lashings, the air was full of flying débris, the officers on the bridge held on for their lives. The sea, now rising rapidly and worked into a frenzy by the force of the wind, was nothing but a waste of seething foam. The huge steamer heeled over at the first shock, and great, green seas, capped with foam, began to break upon the decks. Inside, the stewards ran here and there, closing ports, while the passengers, scared out of their wits, were gathered in the big dining-saloon, gathering such comfort as they could by ceaseless questioning of the busy ship's officers. "Is there any danger, Mr. Brown?" Grace asked the second officer, as he hurried past. "No--no danger at all!" he laughed unconcernedly. "Just a little blow, that's all. No storm that was ever brewed could sink this ship." Grace was reassured, and she breathed more freely, but Mrs. Stuart was skeptical. "Ship's officers never acknowledge there is danger," she said crossly. "They wouldn't admit it even if we were all struggling for our lives in the water." "Oh, there's no question that the ship is staunch enough," said the professor. "The only cause for alarm would be if the hurricane blew us out of our course and the steamer were to run on a rock." As he spoke there was a terrifying crash of glass and an inrush of water. Mrs. Stuart screamed, and stewards ran from all directions. A giant wave had broken the great glass dome over the dining-room, and the water was pouring down in torrents. "What will become of us? Where can we go?" wailed Mrs. Stuart. "The staterooms are the best place in a storm," said the professor. "Yes," said Grace. "Let's go to my stateroom. It's large enough to hold us all. We can be miserable together. Come." They followed Grace, leaving the stewards to mop up the water. The tempest had now reached its height. The shrieking of the wind and the thunderous blows of the terrific seas, as they broke against the sides of the ship, was terrifying to listen to. The boldest among the men passengers no longer concealed their anxiety, and most of the women were in a mental condition bordering on panic. Mrs. Phelps refused to follow the example of Grace and retire to her stateroom. She preferred, she said, to be where she could get out easily if anything happened. So with a stiff brandy and soda to give her courage, and Count von Hatzfeld to keep her company, the widow prepared to sit out the night in company with a crowd of other frightened passengers, who sat all huddled together in a sheltered corner of the dining-saloon. Up on the deck, where duty compelled the officers and crew to expose themselves to the full fury of the storm, the scene was wild beyond description. The force of the wind was extraordinary. It was impossible to face it and breathe. The noise was deafening. What with the continual roar of the now raging sea, the screeching of the tempest and the crash of thunder, the tumult was appalling. The officers on the bridge, clad all in oilskins, hung on for their lives, shouting orders through megaphones. A tremendous sea was running and the _Atlanta_ labored heavily. She rolled so badly that it seemed impossible that she could ever right herself again, and every now and then there came a lurch that strained all the joints, throwing everybody off their feet. The promenade-deck, swept by foaming green water, was practically afloat. One giant comber after another broke over the rail with a thunderous roar, sending up clouds of spray that completely hid the bridge from sight. The night was pitch-dark. Only the intermittent flashes of lightning permitted a glimpse of the raging ocean. It being impossible to see farther than a ship's length ahead, the officers on the bridge were ready for any emergency. The lookouts had been doubled, and the engines slowed down. Captain Summers had left nothing undone to ensure the safety of the passengers entrusted to his care and skill, but it was evident from the way in which he bent forward and strained his eyes in an effort to penetrate the murk ahead, that the situation was critical. Among those exposed to the weather on the upper decks there was only one who watched with grim indifference the fury of the hurricane. The fiercer the wind blew, the angrier grew the ocean, the higher rose Armitage's spirits. When the tremendous seas began to break over the vessel, the stoker exulted. He was still among the ventilators where Bill had left him, not having had time to retreat before the storm broke. Caught by the first rush of wind, he was hurled violently against an iron stanchion and knocked senseless. When he came to, he found himself clinging desperately to a rail, with the hurricane blowing right over him. The force of the wind was inconceivable. He tried to stagger to his feet and resist it, but he could not move. The atmosphere was full of a rushing, irresistible force which suffocated him. The rain, driven with merciless violence, blinded him. He could neither breathe nor see. His ears were deafened by the unearthly screeching of the wind and the constant roar of the waves. A flash rent the surrounding blackness. He caught a glimpse of the water convulsed in a fury, the decks below swept by foaming seas, the ship's officers and crew running excitedly about. It flashed upon him suddenly that the steamer was in danger, yet, instead of making him tremble with apprehension, the thought stirred within him a thrill of savage exultation. Why should he care? Only those who enjoyed life had reason to recoil from death. What joys did life hold out to him? He could never redeem the past. He was tired of the struggle. He had knocked about the world long enough. He would be discharged on the steamer's return to port, and it would be hard, if not impossible, to find another job. Luck was certainly against him. What was the use of bucking against one's luck? It would be as well to have done with it all. A jump into the sea, a moment's choking and involuntary struggle with the waves, and all would be over. His jaws closed with a click, and a hard expression came into his eyes. If this was to be the end of all his hardships and suffering, at least he would not go alone. Those first-cabin passengers, with their dainty frocks and fastidious manners--they would have to take the same watery road as he. The rich and the poor, the happy and the wretched--all are equal in the presence of Death. And as each second the hurricane increased in fury, and the ship plunged more heavily, he had a sense of savage joy as, in his mind, he pictured the final catastrophe, the wild scramble for the boats, and the final screams and death struggles in the boiling waves. Suddenly there was a deafening roar. He heard warning shouts, followed by the splintering of wood and the smashing of glass. Then came a solid wall of green water. A mountainous sea swept clean over the place where he lay, and passed on, leaving him bruised and gurgling for breath. Only the rail had prevented him from being carried bodily over the side. A giant wave had crashed down on the ship, twisting rails, smashing life-boats, and deluging the interior of the ship with tons of water. Below could be heard the shouts of the passengers. A moment later, without further warning, came another and more serious shock, a series of bumps on the ship's bottom, accompanied by a harsh, rending sound. The steamer stopped and trembled from bow to stern. There was a grinding sound. The vessel listed and heeled far over. The engines suddenly stopped. The siren began to blow dismally. The officers were shouting. The _Atlanta_ had run on a rock. In the saloon and staterooms all was chaos and confusion. The electric lights had gone out, the sudden inrush of water having extinguished the furnaces. Already the scared firemen were climbing up from the stoke-hold like rats escaping from a sinking ship. Every one realized that the steamer was doomed, yet there was no panic. The imminence of the peril seemed to have stricken every one dumb, passengers and stewards alike. Hardly a sound was heard except the quick orders given by the officers and the noise of the passengers' footfalls, as they hastened up on deck. Every one was cool. The men retained their self-possession, the women their fortitude. There was no sign of hysteria. On every one's face was a tense look of quiet anxiety, as if it was realized that death was near, and each had summoned up courage to meet it bravely. Even Mrs. Stuart, white-faced and half fainting, did not give way entirely. She and Grace, assisted by Professor Hanson, made their way as quickly as they could to the deck where, all huddled together, they patiently waited for the sailors to lower the boats. The waves were running mountain high. What use were the life-boats in such a sea? Grace's lips moved in prayer. Armitage, still clinging to the rail, watched the sailors as they worked rapidly at the davits to lower the boats. This, he said to himself, was certainly the end. No boat could live in those tremendous seas. They would all drown like rats. He saw the Honorable Percy Fitzhugh, still in his spats and green Tyrolian hat, but very humble now, and white-faced, standing by the girl he had seen dancing--the proud beauty with the big dark eyes. She was pale and silent, yet she did not give way to hysterical emotion. He admired her for her pluck. She was spunky--that was evident. Some women got into a boat, which was lowered away in safety. Another was let down, loaded to the gunwale with human freight. Just as it touched the water there came a tremendous wave, the fragile boat was tossed high in the air, and in an instant its occupants were struggling in the water. There were women's screams and men's shouts, then a sinister silence. Armitage laughed. At last he had the upper hand. These swell cabin passengers drowning there before his eyes were afraid of death, while he welcomed it. He felt grateful that this much revenge had been vouchsafed him. The cries of the dying, the frightful tumult raised by this death orgy of wind and sea, instead of frightening him, sounded in his ears like the most sublime music he had ever heard. As the doomed ship settled deeper on the reef, the waves broke on board with redoubled force. It was only a question of minutes when the huge hulk would begin to go to pieces. Suddenly there was a terrific explosion, the deck rose under him, and the next thing he knew he was in the sea, battling with the waves. He was an expert, powerful swimmer, and he found himself struggling for life in spite of himself. He tried to stop swimming, to let himself sink. He could not. The instinct of self-preservation was too strong. So he swam on, now resting, now floating. He saw nothing of the ship or of the boats. He presumed some got away. He heard shouts, but paid no heed. Steadily he swam on, wondering when his strength would give out and nature would let him drown. All at once he bumped against something soft. "Save me!" cried a woman's voice weakly. Instinctively he put out his hand and caught her by the hair just as she was going down for the second time. Her eyes were closed and her face pale as death. It was the tall girl with the dark eyes. If she had not spoken he would have thought she was dead. Supporting her firmly with one hand and keeping her head above water, he swam on. He wondered why he took the trouble. He would tire soon and then both must sink. But he swam on, with Grace limp, unconscious, half drowned at his side. He felt he was unable to stay afloat much longer. His left arm was already numb from the girl's dead weight. Every muscle in his body ached. The end must soon come. Why not let her go now and have done with it? Suddenly he heard a sound that gave him renewed energy. It was the roaring noise of heavy surf beating on the shore. They must be close in land. Another determined effort and perhaps he could get in. Desperately exerting the last of his great strength, he swam on. A monster wave carried him forward, high on its crest, and as the water retired he felt sand underneath his feet. Another billow carried them in still farther. He was in a maelstrom; he could not see; there was a rushing, roaring sound in his ears. A wave knocked him down, and they were both nearly suffocated as they rolled over and over in the boiling water. He staggered to his feet and was again dragging her in when a receding wave snatched them back. Then came another and bigger wave which threw them in again. This time he dug his feet desperately in the shifting sand, and, by a herculean effort, resisted the deadly suck of the undertow. The wave receded, leaving them still higher. Before another could reach them he had picked his unconscious companion up in his arms, and staggered up the beach safe out of the clutch of the water. CHAPTER IX. Dawn broke, gray and wet. Although the storm had spent its fury and the wind had quieted down to a gentle breeze, the sea still ran mountains high and a fine rain was falling. But there was promise of clearing weather. Low on the eastern horizon a fringe of fiery red broke through the leaden clouds, putting in relief the water-line and heralding the near approach of sunrise. Away out yonder, far beyond the towering, white-capped breakers, protruded the jagged points of the treacherous sunken reef on which the ill-fated _Atlanta_ had crashed to her doom. Armitage strained his eyes in every direction until they ached. With the coming of daylight he had expected to get a glimpse of the wreck; possibly he would see people still on board, signaling for help. But as the darkness paled and he was able to distinguish water and sky through the receding gloom, he saw, to his amazement, that the steamer had completely disappeared. He perceived pieces of wreckage, and, near the reef, he thought he spied an upturned boat, but of the big steamer and the other life-boats which got away before the boilers exploded, there was not a sign. Nothing but a desolate waste of tossing gray water met his eyes everywhere. As far as he could make out they were on an island. He had no idea how large it was, or if it was deserted or inhabited. He had heard his shipmates talk of islands in the Indian Ocean that were a peril to navigation, and he supposed this was one of them. When it got lighter he would be better able to take his bearings. He was exhausted and weak after his long struggle with the waves, and his brine-soaked clothes hung heavily on him. Yet he no longer looked the same man he had been on the ship. The transformation in his appearance was startling; the long swim had effected a wonderful change. All trace of coal-dust had disappeared from his face and neck; once more he was a white man. His hands were cut and bleeding from the sharp rocks, and his body was bruised from head to foot, but nothing could conceal the fact that his bearing had distinction, that his head was well shaped, his features clean cut, that he had a strong mouth and a clear eye. But he was supremely unconscious of how he looked. He was desperately hungry. His throat was dry and parched. His brine-soaked clothes hung heavily on him. His senses and consciousness seemed numbed. In truth, he marveled to find himself alive. Why had he exhausted and bruised himself struggling with the waves, fighting death, when he had no desire to live? Yes, he remembered now. It was the girl's fault. She had cried out to him, and somehow, in spite of himself, he had clutched at her and saved her from drowning. He clenched his fists and muttered an oath as he turned to look at her. She was still lying, apparently unconscious, in the spot where he had carried her after they both staggered out of the jaws of death, and fell, exhausted, on the wild, storm-swept beach. His first instinct on gaining a foothold safe from the deadly suck of the thundering breakers had been to find for his helpless companion some kind of shelter from the wind and rain, and as he was assisting her over the slippery stones, green with slimy sea grass, they accidentally stumbled across a wide opening in the face of the precipitous cliff. Nearer inspection showed it to be a deep crevice, hollowed out of the solid rock in past ages by the action of the water. The sea had since receded, leaving a kind of cave, of no great height or depth, yet large enough to accommodate half a dozen persons. The interior was dry, while the thick growth of velvety moss underfoot provided a comfortable couch. "A shipwrecked young woman couldn't wish for more luxurious quarters," muttered Armitage grimly to himself, and after he had taken mental note of the natural advantages of the place, he turned to look at the prostrate girl. As yet Grace had given no sign of life. Her eyes were closed and her face livid. But for the nervous twitching of her mouth, and a low moan which from time to time escaped her lips, one might think she was dead. Her head was thrown back against the cold, damp wall, her beautiful, long hair, matted by sea water, was all disheveled. Water ran off every part of her and formed a little puddle by her side. Her dainty ball-dress, the envy of every woman on board only a few hours before, was in shreds. What remained of it, soaked and discolored, clung closely to her figure, revealing to Armitage's gaze outlines which caused the blood to rush tumultuously to his head. Her low-necked gown, torn during the panicky rush for the life-boats, had collapsed entirely at one side, exposing part of the delicately rounded, blue-veined bosom, and shoulders and arms as white and academically beautiful as if cut in marble by the sculptor's chisel. [Illustration: NEVER IN HIS LIFE HAD HE BEHELD A WOMAN SO FAIR.] Armitage stood transfixed, his pulse throbbing furiously, his heart in his mouth. For a moment the beast was aroused. His eyes sparkled sensually, incoherent sounds issued from between his clenched teeth. A kiss on that gently curved, sensitive mouth would be as near a taste of heaven as ever he would get. He'd be a fool to hesitate. They were alone--he and this girl--not a human being was within a thousand miles of them. The chances of rescue were infinitesimal. They had escaped the waves only to die of starvation--that was certain. If they must die--to-day--to-morrow--or the next day--why deny oneself any joy that the world still had to offer? Thus he argued, not in these words, but in feverish, unreasoning, reckless thought. Boldly he approached her. His face was flushed, his eyes were ardent as they took in every voluptuous detail of her motionless form. He advanced closer, and, bending over her, stood for a moment fascinated by the sight of her bare, alabaster-like skin and perfectly modeled arms. Never in his life had he beheld a woman so fair. Suddenly she stirred and uttered a low moan. Armitage sprang back and looked around guiltily. Only the screaming sea-gulls were there to witness his discomfiture, yet his face had the expression of one detected in an unworthy action. Again Grace moaned and stirred as if in pain. He stood irresolute, embarrassed, not knowing what to do to help her, trying to feel that he didn't care, surly and ill-tempered because he felt contempt for himself. What was this woman's suffering to him? She belonged to the class he now hated, the detested plutocracy upon which he had declared war. The money she spent on her finery and pleasures was no doubt gotten by cheating such poor fellows as he out of their rights. Let her have her share of hard knocks. He chuckled to himself as he reflected on life's ironies. Only a few brief hours ago, on the luxuriously appointed liner, she was everything, he was nothing. She was the grand lady, the pampered cabin passenger; he was the despised stoker, hardly to be counted among human beings. Suddenly what an astounding revolution! A cataclysm, and all was changed--distinctions of birth, education, and wealth were instantly abolished. Now they were merely two helpless human beings cast away on a deserted island in the lonely mid-ocean, one dependent upon the other, one no better than the other. They had returned to primeval conditions. In what way was she his superior now? Thus arguing to himself, he took fresh courage and drew nearer. She was certainly pretty, there was no getting away from that, and he--was a man! Lying there, pale, soaked, bedraggled, Grace looked the picture of utter misery. Of the artificial aids to good looks which women in their vanity love to employ, not one remained, yet even with every adjunct of self-adornment gone she was still beautiful. The exuberant spirits and pride of bearing were no longer there, only a sad, wistful, pallid loveliness that was even more potent in its appeal than the radiant, gay, fashionably gowned, proud beauty who had attracted his gaze when, from his place of concealment among the ventilators, he had gloomily watched the brilliant scene on the promenade-deck. She made no attempt to move. Still stunned by the awful calamity which had so swiftly overtaken the steamer, her ears still ringing with the despairing cries of her friends as they were swept to their deaths, her brain was a blank. She could not think or reason. Every sense seemed paralyzed. She felt no sensations of hunger or thirst. She was surprised to find herself still alive. All she remembered was the terrible explosion, the frenzied scramble for the boats, and then all at once she found herself in the water, swimming, trying to keep herself afloat. How she reached the shore she did not know. A man had caught her as she was sinking, and in a vague sort of way she thought he was one of the crew. She wondered where she was and why her body ached so. The air chilled her bare shoulders. She shivered, moaned, and opened her eyes. "Are you hurt?" he asked, advancing. This abrupt breaking of the long silence by the sound of a human voice seemed strange to her. She thought she was dreaming, and she smiled faintly at the absurdity of it. "Are you hurt?" he demanded, again stooping over her. She turned her gaze wonderingly on Armitage. In the uncertain light it was difficult to get a good view of his face. He seemed a stranger to her. From him, her eyes wandered inquiringly round the cave. "Where am I?" she asked, in a low voice. "On an island," he replied shortly. "The steamer's lost. Only you and I were saved." She turned white, and her breath came and went quickly. Then she caught sight of her torn gown, and quickly she covered herself modestly, a faint flush overspreading her pale face. She continued to stare at Armitage, as if he reminded her of some one she had seen before. Puzzled, she passed her hand over her eyes as if trying to remember. "Who are you?" she said finally. "Where have I seen you before?" He shifted uneasily on his feet and looked away, avoiding her scrutiny. Why should she know that he had been one of the poor devils in the stoke-hole? Perhaps she already recognized him as the deserter who was so unceremoniously dragged on board ship in New York Harbor. Gruffly he answered: "I was swimming. I heard you cry out. I brought you in--that's all." "You were one of the crew?" He nodded. "Yes--one of the crew." "How can I thank you!" she exclaimed. "My father is rich. He will reward you." He laughed harshly. "Money isn't much good here. You don't realize where we are. Every one's gone but we--all are drowned. We're as good as dead. We're a thousand miles from the mainland--with no means of getting away and no food. There's little chance of being sighted by a passing ship, for the storm had blown us out of the regular steamer track." Brutally, he added: "You might as well understand the situation. Death by starvation stares us in the face." Grace interrupted him by an outburst of hysterical weeping. Weakened physically by exertion and exposure, her nerves overwrought by terror and suspense, little wonder that at last she gave way. She sobbed like a child, a piteous passion of tears that would have melted a heart of stone. She didn't care for herself. She was ready to die. But she was sorry for Daddy and her poor mother. They would grieve for her and it would break their hearts. She shuddered as she thought of the shocking fate which had befallen her recent companions on the ship. "Perhaps some of them got away in the boats," she gasped between her tears. "Maybe they did," he replied, with an indifferent shrug of his shoulders. With a gesture of impatience he added curtly: "It's no use crying. That won't do any good. What you need most is to get out of those wet clothes. You're soaked to the skin." "I have no others to put on," ruefully she replied, making an effort to sit up and squeezing the water out of her skirt. She thought with dismay of all her precious belongings forever lost at the bottom of the sea. Fortunately, her pearls were saved. The necklace was still round her throat. "Look!" she said, holding the necklace up so he could see it. "At least we have these. They are worth $40,000." He laughed derisively. "They're worth nothing where there's no one to buy them," he growled. Then, impatiently, he said: "Don't waste your time bothering about that. What you want to do is to take those clothes off right away. Then you'll dry them and put them on again. You can't remain any longer in wet clothes." He spoke authoritatively, with the commanding air of one who intends to be obeyed. She was in no mood to argue the matter. Besides, he was right. She was already chilled and ran the danger of getting pneumonia unless she dried her clothes quickly; but how could she change them--with no fire to dry her things and with this man coming in and out? He saw her embarrassment and intuitively guessed the reason. He was still in the shadow, but she fancied she noticed a covert smile hovering about his mouth, and she immediately took a dislike to him, in spite of the service he had rendered her. His manner was overbearing--almost insolent. Again, there was something about him that reminded her of a man she had known or seen, but still she could not remember. Turning to her, he said gruffly: "I'm fairly well soaked myself. While you're changing I'll go and take a run along the sands and dry my clothes in the sun. Before I go I'll light a fire for you to dry your clothes on." He produced from his pocket a small box wrapped in oilskin. Opening it, he held up three lucifer matches, and, grimly, he said: "These are worth more to us than your pearls. See--there are only three left, and they're as dry as when I left the ship. I'm going to light a fire just outside there, at the foot of the cliff. Once lighted, the fire must never be allowed to go out. It must burn night and day. It will keep us warm and cook our food. I'll start the fire; you'll keep it going with what small pieces of wood you can gather. Do you understand?" Grace was taken aback. For a moment she was speechless with indignation. This man, this common sailor, was actually giving her a command, telling her to do menial work, and admonishing her to do it properly, as if she were a domestic servant. Her first impulse was to rebel and order him angrily from her presence. On second thoughts, she said nothing. After all, he was right. She ought to be willing to do her share. They were no longer on the ship where she had only to touch a button and a dozen maids and stewards ran to obey her slightest whim. Although reared in luxury, and petted and indulged since her birth, she was not a fool. She was quick to realize that conditions had changed and that their respective social positions--hers and this sailor's--were now completely reversed. She was dependent on him, not he on her. If she were to be saved, it would be thanks to his resourcefulness, his courage. Her money would be of no use here. He alone could protect and save her, so why, quarrel with him. Docilely, therefore, she replied: "Yes--I understand." Armitage left her alone in the cave, and, proceeding along the silvery sands, set hastily to work to gather together the scattered driftwood. The beach was strewn for miles with the flotsam and jetsam of countless tides, an accumulation that apparently had been undisturbed for centuries. Much of it was moldy with age and, well protected from the rains by overhanging rocks, was dry as tinder. "This stuff'll make a bully blaze," he muttered cheerfully to himself. He toiled with a will, glad of the brisk exercise to take the kinks out of his numbed limbs. The sun was now high above the horizon, and its warm rays felt grateful after the chill of the stormy night. Directly he had started the fire, he'd leave the girl to change her clothes and go himself where he could take a rub-down and lay out his own things to dry. Then he'd take a run along the coast and climb the cliff to see what sort of a place this was they had landed on. He felt a sense of relief that he was no longer subjected to the discipline and restraint of the ship. He chuckled to himself as his mind dwelt on the disaster that had emancipated him. His taskmasters were no longer there to torment him--all were drowned or gone away in the boats. Once more he was a free man. At last he could raise his head. To the others the wreck had been an overwhelming calamity! to him it meant salvation. No matter what the future had in store, no matter what privations he must suffer on this island--even if he must soon perish--anything was better than the torture he had endured in that hellish stoke-hole. In a way, he felt sorry for the girl. Evidently she was not used to roughing it. It would be harder for her than for him. She seemed inclined to be haughty, he thought. He had noticed the proud toss of her head when he spoke about her attending to the fire. He smiled grimly. She didn't like that. Well, that was the fault of her bringing up. How could a girl, raised as she'd been, be expected to do anything useful? Such girls were only the butterflies of life--of no particular use except to look pretty. It wouldn't do her any harm to learn a thing or two. Apart from that, she seemed all right. In fact, he was not sorry she'd been saved to share his solitude. His hour had not come to die, that was sure; otherwise he'd have been drowned with the rest. As long as he had to be cast away on this barren islet it was as well that he had a companion. Of course, she wouldn't be much use if it came to real hardships--procuring food, fighting off attacks of animals or reptiles, or building a boat to get away--but she was a beauty, a prize-winner, no mistake about that. Again his eyes gleamed as his mind dwelt upon what had been revealed to him in the cave--a torn dress, a white, soft neck, a soaked dress showing limbs like sculptured marble, a curved mouth, tempting enough to inflame a saint. Fast and furiously he worked, strange thoughts crowding upon each other in his brain. Soon he had gathered a big pile of driftwood, and had it all ready for lighting. He rubbed his hands with satisfaction. They'd soon have a blaze that could be seen fifty miles out at sea. Taking from his pocket once more the little box, he unwrapped the oilskin and took out one of the three precious matches. Then, with infinite precautions, stooping and covering the tiny flicker with one hand to protect it from the wind, he applied the light. Only one match was necessary. Owing to the extreme dryness of the wood, the pile caught instantly. A thick column of smoke rose to the sky, followed by a sharp crackling and long tongue of flame. More wood and more he kept piling on until he had before him a roaring furnace. Pleased with the quick result, he shouted to Grace, who was still inside the cave. "See here. You'll soon dry yourself by this fire!" Grace appeared at the mouth of the cave. Busy tending to the fire, his back turned toward the cliff, he did not see her suddenly recoil as she perceived him, nor the expression of consternation and terror that came into her pale, wan face. As he stood there full in the strong light of the roaring fire, she saw the face of her rescuer distinctly for the first time. She saw vividly a picture she had seen once before on the ill-fated ship--the handsome profile of a man bending low over a glowing furnace, with the shoulders and muscles of a Hercules, and the head and grace of a Greek god. Transfixed, her bosom heaving, she stood rooted to the ground. Now she remembered! Now she knew him! He was the fireman Armitage--the terrible man of the _Atlanta_'s stoke-hole. She was alone on the island--with that terrible man! CHAPTER X. The rest of that morning, Grace, to her intense relief, saw little of the man into whose abhorrent company she had been so strangely and unceremoniously thrown. Once the fire was well started Armitage had disappeared, leaving her in privacy to attend to her immediate needs. For this much consideration she felt grateful to him. But, after she had dried her clothes and had time to realize her terrible situation, she was overwhelmed by the hopeless horror of it. Her faculties well-nigh paralyzed, her nerves shattered almost to the point of total collapse, she sank down on a rock under the frowning cliffs, and, looking helplessly out over the vast and now peaceful sea, started to take mental stock of the extraordinary predicament in which she suddenly found herself. Things had happened so quickly that she had no time for reflection. Bad as the situation had been before, it was ten times worse now. To think that she should be perched on a lonely island hundreds of miles from civilization, without any means of communicating with the outside world, alone with that man--and such a man! Her heart sank as she remembered all the dreadful things she had heard about him on the ship. It was surely calamity enough to be shipwrecked and cast away on a stupid little island without food, shelter, or clothes, but how much more serious was the situation when the only other human being to be saved beside herself was the worst character on board. The first revelation of his identity was such a shock to her nervous system that she nearly swooned, her brain reeled, she thought she would go insane with terror. She tried to calm herself. At the worst, she argued philosophically, he could only kill her and throw her body into the sea. Not that she could look forward to such a fate with equanimity. She gulped down a hysterical sob as she pictured her splendid form and tender young flesh providing a toothsome meal for some rapacious shark, and she wondered if the world--particularly her own set--would care when they read in the sensational Sunday papers all the horrible details of her dreadful end. Yet why, after all, should this man--this ogre--kill her? Her pearls didn't tempt him. Hadn't he scoffed at them just now? Then her face blanched and she dug her manicured nails deep into her skin as she thought of a worse fate than death that could overtake her. She had read and heard of such things--hadn't Professor Hanson, during their talks on shipboard, conceived this very situation? She wondered how she could protect herself and what attitude she should adopt toward this man. An open rupture would never do; she must not even show distrust of him. Only she must be constantly on her guard. All these thoughts were rushing through her brain when it suddenly occurred to her that she was hungry. What was more natural? The last thing she had eaten was the plate of ice cream brought to her during the dance by Count von Hatzfeld. Since then nothing but sea water had passed her lips. A feeling of faintness came over her, and soon her dread of Armitage gave her less anxiety than her speculations regarding the problem of procuring food. She was desperately hungry. Perhaps if she walked along the shore she could pick up some shell-fish--oysters, or perhaps some crabs. She thought pensively of the delicious crab meat _à la Newburg_, served in chafing-dish, which was one of the culinary delights of Sherry's delightful little after-the-theater suppers, and, closing her eyes, she gave a sigh of despair. Then, catching a glimpse of her water-stained, tattered gown, she could not help laughing in spite of her misery. The idea of her traipsing along the sands in a décolleté ball-dress struck her as ludicrously incongruous. She must find something else to wear, but what? She wondered where Armitage had gone and why he stayed so long away. Perhaps he would never come back. Then, surely, she would perish miserably alone. It needed a man's strength and resourcefulness to ensure an existence in such a wild, deserted spot. What could she, a frail woman, do alone to get food and devise some way of escape? Unconsciously, she already missed her companion. Without realizing it, she admitted his superiority in the new conditions the shipwreck had brought about. Suddenly she heard a shout, and, turning quickly, she saw him coming along the beach carrying something in his hands. She advanced toward him, preserving a cold, indifferent exterior, but glad secretly that he had returned. After all, he was a human being, some one she could talk to. Had she alone been saved, to live alone on this island, she would have gone mad. As she watched him approach she wondered why she had not recognized him at first. It was the same tall, splendidly proportioned figure, the same dark, wavy hair, closely cropped, the same regular features, and bold, defiant toss of the head. Yes, she saw the reason why. His face was clean and white now, whereas on shipboard she had never seen it any other way than grimy and covered with coal-dust. The involuntary bath had effected a wonderful transformation. He was decidedly handsome. As he came along at a quick, swinging gait she wondered why such a fine fellow should have sunk so low as to be obliged to become a common stoker. "I have your breakfast here!" he called out cheerily, as he came in earshot. "I guess you're ready for it." She reddened, and stammered a confused reply. "Here's some fresh water," he said, as he came up to her. Holding out a huge scallop-shell filled with water, he went on: "You can drink it safely. I've found a spring in the hills away yonder. It's clear as crystal." Grace drank greedily, murmuring her thanks. "It's delicious!" she gasped between gulps. He gave a grunt of satisfaction. "I picked up the shell along the beach," he said. "It doesn't make a bad drinking-cup. We'll find it useful. Mind you don't lose it." Again that tone of command which had irritated her before. She looked up angrily, but he was paying no attention to her. Putting his hand in his pocket he brought out some mango fruit and offered it to her. "Here's something you can break your fast with. There's plenty of it growing hereabouts. There are limes and cocoanuts, too, for the picking. When I get my tackle fixed, I shall be able to catch some fish." He threw himself down on the sloping beach as though weary after the long exploring tour, and, picking up a splinter of wood, he started to draw lines on the sand. Grace, busy eating, her white teeth biting hungrily into the luscious fruit, watched him without speaking. His abrupt manner intimidated her. She was afraid of him, and the realization of her own utter helplessness only served to make her more nervous. Finally, summoning up courage, she asked: "What did you see--could you make out where we are?" He looked up and nodded. Then, with his bit of wood, he began to draw in the soft sand a diagram of their position. Carelessly he said: "We're on an island about ten miles long by about three miles wide. It seems to be of volcanic origin and uninhabited. The land is low and swampy in parts, with a lot of thick brushwood, but there's a big hill on which we can build a signal fire." "What are our chances of being sighted and taken off?" she interrupted eagerly. "Decidedly slim, I should say," was his laconic rejoinder. Grace stopped eating, and a look of dismay overspread her face. He continued: "You see we're far out of the regular steamship track. Not being down on the chart, navigators probably never heard of this island. Our only hope is in the whalers. These waters are full of whales, and whaling-vessels come here after them from all parts of the world. Some no doubt land here to replenish their supply of fresh water. Or a passing whaler may sight our fire." "How long will we have to wait?" she demanded anxiously. He shrugged his shoulders as if the length of their enforced sojourn on the island were a matter of no concern to him. Indifferently he replied: "One can't tell. Three months--six months--a year!" "A year!" gasped Grace. "How could I live here a year, or even six months--I should go mad." He smiled grimly. "Oh, we get accustomed to most anything when we have to. I wasn't overfond of the job I had on the ship, but I had to knuckle down to it all the same. We don't always get things the way we want them, do we?" She ignored the rebuke, too much perturbed at the gloomy prospect he held out. Nor did she notice that this was the first allusion he had made to his work in the stoke-hold. "Even a month would seem like a century," she went on almost hysterically. "Is there no possible way of reaching the mainland?" He shook his head. "The nearest land is a good eight hundred miles away. We have no boat--no compass----" "Oh, what can we do? What can we do?" she wailed, pacing to and fro, swinging her hands. "Make the best of it, I should say," he replied coolly. There was the suggestion of a smile hovering around his mouth, and his eyes were full on her as he added: "I'm in no particular hurry to get away myself." She saw the covert smile and the boldness of his glance, and it aroused her resentment. Forgetting her caution she turned angrily on him. "Of course, _you_ don't care. Why should you? You find there's plenty here to eat and nothing to do. That kind of life suits you better, no doubt, than having to earn a living by hard work. You've no friends who are mourning for you, no father or mother grieving over your supposed death. So long as you can enjoy creature comforts without paying for them, you are satisfied to stay here forever. But with me it's different. My life has not been like yours. You ought to realize that. What may seem like comfort and all that is necessary to you, is torture and starvation to me. You ought to be able to see that! You ought! You ought!" She stopped, her face red from excitement, her bosom heaving, her voice choking with sobs. Taken aback at the vehemence of her hysterical outburst, he simply looked at her, admiring her flashing, dark eyes, fascinated by her beauty. He did not care what she said, although she had spoken as a woman might to her lackey. Her words were stinging, her tone contemptuous. She had given him plainly to understand that she was fashioned of entirely different clay. When forced to it by circumstances she might, when thirsty, share his cup. She might, when hungry, accept part of his food, but aside from the satisfying of these elemental human desires, he and she had naught in common. He must understand that plainly. "She's dead right," he said to himself. Socially they were separated by the widest gulf imaginable. Even with him to attend to her wants she would be as much alone on this island as if he were not there. A common stoker was hardly fit to breathe the same air as a girl who was heiress to millions, accustomed to all the refinements of wealth. He looked at her for a moment in silence. His face flushed and his lips moved as if he were about to make some angry retort. With a visible effort he mastered himself, and, turning on his heel, he walked slowly away. Grace's first impulse was to recall him. Only her pride prevented her running after him. Already she regretted her hasty words. She would have given almost anything to unsay them. She had not intended to be discourteous to this man. Whatever his character might be, however low he might be in the social scale, he had rendered her a service she could never repay. He had saved her life. Yet, thoughtlessly, needlessly, she had hurt his feelings. What utter folly it was to boast of her social position in her present predicament. She thought with bitterness how little her culture and education could help her now. Their situation was precarious enough without making matters worse by senseless bickerings. Wearily she sank down on a rock, angry with herself, apprehensive of the consequences of her speech. She had had reason to fear him before; by her own foolishness the rupture was now definite. This new misunderstanding would certainly add to her discomfort and perhaps lessen her chances of escaping from this worst of horrors--a living death! Looking out to sea, she strained her eyes in every direction in the hope of catching a glimpse of some vessel which to her would mean safety and home. The thick black smoke from the fire Armitage had started was still rising in a straight column to the sky. If there happened along a craft of any description their signal could not fail to be seen. But her tired eyes swept the horizon in vain. There was not a speck on the vast expanse of shimmering blue to give her the slightest encouragement. Her heart sank within her. All signs of the recent hurricane had disappeared. Once more Nature was in holiday garb. The ocean reflected the turquoise-blue of the cloudless heavens; the air, gently stirred by a balmy breeze, was fragrant with the odor of spices. There was no trace of the wreck or of the missing life-boats. The ocean had completely engulfed the steamship. What the fate of the other passengers, officers, and crew had been could only be matter of conjecture. "God grant that they got safely away," she murmured fervently to herself. "Perhaps they will be picked up by some ship and then they may come in search of me--unless they come to the conclusion that I'm dead. I might just as well be dead as here." She was still ravenously hungry. The little fruit she had eaten had not satisfied her and she did not know where to go to look for more. She wondered if she had made him so angry that he would entirely desert her and leave her to starve. With a shudder she thought of other terrors in store for her. What about the coming night? The afternoon was rapidly advancing; before very long the sun would set and what then? How could she face the coming darkness alone with that man whom she had angered and with all the unknown terrors the island contained? Almost panic-stricken from sheer nervousness and anxiety, utterly discouraged and miserable, she buried her face in her hands and burst into tears. Suddenly she heard a footstep, and, looking up, she saw Armitage approaching. He was making only slow progress, being weighted down with some heavy object. "Here's a prize!" he shouted, as he came nearer. Staggering up to near where she stood he set down a huge iron pot. "I spied it lying among the drift along the shore," he went on. "It's a bit rusty, but that'll scrape off. It's worth its weight in gold to us. We've something to cook in now." He spoke cheerily, with the utmost frankness. If he still nourished any resentment his manner did not betray it. In her present state of depression Grace would have welcomed the apparition of Satan himself. She made no attempt to conceal her joy at his return. Clapping her hands with childish enthusiasm, she cried: "Oh, isn't it perfectly lovely!" At home she had never been inside a kitchen. It is indeed doubtful if she knew what a culinary utensil looked like. Perhaps it had never occurred to her that the kettle and many other things as humble are all indispensable parts in our civilization. But now she understood. Necessity is a quick teacher and Grace was learning. The pot was an ordinary tripod affair, battered and rusty. Judging from its appearance, it had fallen overboard from some ship and had floated ashore. Otherwise it was sound and serviceable. She could see that its value to them was well-nigh inestimable. "That's splendid--that's bully!" she repeated excitedly. He enjoyed her enthusiasm. It was the first time he had seen her smile, and it looked good to him. He chuckled to himself as he said: "But that isn't all. A pot with nothing to put in it isn't much use. I've brought you something good to eat." Plunging his hand into the pot he brought out half a dozen live crabs and threw them at her feet. "Aren't they beauties?" he exclaimed. "I'll bet they'll taste dandy, too. Look out! Mind they don't nip your fingers with their claws. They're pretty lively. They bite like the mischief." Grace's mouth was already watering: "What shall I do with them?" she asked helplessly. "Cook 'em, of course," he replied, with a grin. "You get them ready while I go and fetch some water." She listened in consternation, not liking to tell him she did not know how to cook. His women, of course, could work and do everything to help themselves. They could sew and make their own dresses. She felt ashamed of her own uselessness and was about to make confession when he hurried away. As he ran he turned and called out: "You'd better take a shell and see if you can scrape off some of that rust inside the pot." He disappeared, leaving her looking in dismay, first at the iron pot and then at the crabs, already striving to regain their liberty. She had not the slightest idea what to do. Her only knowledge of crabs was when their tender, white, flakelike meat was served in chafing-dish with delicious sherry sauce. How to accomplish the operation of transforming those crawling, dangerous-looking things into a toothsome dish she had not the slightest notion. Even if she did know, how could she touch the nasty things when they were raising their nippers so menacingly and already trying to scud away in the direction of their native habitat, the sea. The most she could do was to run after each wriggling deserter and with her foot turn him over on his back. As to the other order she had received--that was easy. She could scrape the pot with a shell. That was easy enough. Yet if she were busy on the pot the crabs would profit by it to slip away, and then they would have no supper at all. It was certainly a problem worthy of the Sphinx. She was still trying to solve it when Armitage reappeared. In one hand he carried a gigantic cocoanut filled to the brim with sparkling, fresh water; with the other he was dragging along the sand a huge plant of unfamiliar aspect. "Are you all ready?" he called out. "No--I'm afraid not," she stammered confusedly. Quick to guess the reason, he merely smiled. "All right," he said pleasantly. "I'll fix it." Carefully putting down the precious liquid, he seized hold of the iron pot, and, with a few strokes of his sheath-knife, soon had it in condition and on the fire. Over such fierce heat, the water did not take long to boil, and a few minutes later the obstreperous crustaceans were on the way to discharge their natural debt to two starving humans. "What a feast we'll have!" exclaimed Grace, as she eagerly watched his preparations. "If only we had some bread to go with them." "Here's something just as good," he replied quickly. Stooping down toward the plant he had just brought in he plucked some of the fruit--long, yellow pods with red speckles--and held them out to her. "What is it?" she asked, in surprise. "I never saw fruit like that before." "They are plantains--the potatoes of the tropics," he answered. "They look like bananas," said Grace, starting to peel and eat one. "Same family," he explained. As if surprised at her ignorance, he went on: "It is a wonderful fruit. It's meat, potatoes, and bread all in one. Its fiber one can use as thread, and its enormous leaves make warm clothing. When the fruit is powdered and baked you would hardly know it from rice. Speke, Stanley, and the other African explorers frequently mention plantains as the staple food of the natives. We're fortunate to find it here, and there seems to be an abundance." Grace looked at him curiously. She was not aware that seamen were so well versed. "What do you know about African explorers?" she demanded. Her question seemed to amuse him, for he showed his teeth in a smile. "Oh, I've read their books," he replied. "We sailormen pick up a good deal of information knocking about the world as we do." She would have liked to question him further, curious to learn something of his history, but there was an air of reserve about him that gave her little encouragement. On reflection she thought it unwise to appear interested. He might misconstrue her motive. She had not forgotten the bad reputation he had borne on the steamer, and while there had been nothing in his behavior so far to give her cause for alarm, she must not forget that she was entirely alone on this island with a man of the lower classes, a man unaccustomed, probably, to self-control. She must discourage all familiarity, and never for a moment permit him to forget the broad social gulf which separated them. With these anxieties running through her mind she relapsed into silence. He seemed to notice the sudden change in her manner, for he looked up from the fire and said: "I'll soon have it ready. Suppose you get two big, flat shells for plates. We'll have to use our fingers for forks." As she went to carry out his suggestion, she said apologetically: "You think of everything. I wish I could be of more assistance." "Nonsense!" he answered. "Why was I saved from the wreck if not to look after you?" She did not like this speech, savoring as it did of clumsy gallantry, so she made no rejoinder. By the time she had found the kind of shells suitable for plates, the crabs were cooked to a turn, and they immediately sat down in semi-reclining position to enjoy them. It was a veritable feast of Lucullus served picnic-fashion in mid-ocean. To Grace it seemed that in all her life she had never tasted anything so delicious. The crabs were tender and sweet-flavored, and the plantains provided her with a new taste which improved on acquaintance. In spite of their thus sharing a common meal there was a certain restraint. Each seemed to be uncertain of and mistrust the other. They ate quickly and in silence, each preoccupied, Grace becoming more and more nervous as the shadows about her deepened, Armitage, silent, in admiring contemplation of his companion's shapely hands, her full bust and white neck, her beautiful eyes which, when they looked full into his, caused every nerve in his body to thrill. By the time they had eaten the last scrap, the evening was well advanced. The sun had dipped below the watery horizon long ago, and it was getting dark very rapidly. Grace's growing nervousness became more and more apparent. He noticed it and suddenly broke the silence. "Where will you sleep to-night?" he asked. "You're worn out after all you've gone through." "Yes--I am very tired," she replied. He rose, and, after throwing more wood on to the fire, he turned to her. "I'll have to fix you up a bed in the cave the best way I can. I can get fern-leaves and long, cypress-haired moss in the woods. That'll make capital stuffing, and with a few plantain-leaves you'll have a mattress fit for a queen. It'll do for to-night. To-morrow we'll make you more comfortable." Before she could murmur her gratitude he had hurried away in the direction of the woods. Left alone, her nervousness increased. She wondered what he would do for a bed, if he would insist on sharing the shelter of the cave with her, or if he would prefer to sleep outside under the stars. She felt singularly apprehensive. A panicky feeling seized her. How could she spend all the lonely hours of the night in the terrifying darkness--alone with that man? She felt nervous and uneasy, as if some new peril threatened her. Certainly, she would not be able to close an eye. A night of mental torture was before her. CHAPTER XI. Soon Armitage returned, his arms filled with a great load of fern-leaves and grass. Grace followed him into the gloomy cave, the interior of which was now quite dark. Laying his burden down, he prepared to arrange her couch. "How would you like to lie?" he asked. "I think I would prefer to lie in the open," she replied, with a little, nervous shudder. He shook his head. "No--you'd better sleep in there," he said. "It may rain. Besides, we don't know what may be roaming round here during the night. In there you'll be protected on all three sides, and, as to the entrance, I'll throw a few big branches across. Nothing can get past without you knowing it." "And where will you be?" she inquired timidly. "Oh, I'll throw myself down by the fire. I'm accustomed to roughing it." The bed was swiftly made, soft and springy. All it lacked were pillow and covering. "Take my advice and don't sleep in your clothes," he said. "You can't sleep properly unless you do, and you'll need all your strength. There's no one to disturb you. You can use your dress for a pillow and your mantle for a sheet. Don't be nervous. I'll be on hand if you want me. Good night." "Good night!" she echoed faintly. He went out and she was alone. It was now quite dark outside. The night was clear, and the heavens were studded with their countless stars. The only light which entered the cave enabling her to grope her way about was a ghostly flicker from the distant fire. She tried the bed. It was fairly comfortable. Utterly exhausted, she thought she ought to sleep until daylight. She surely would if only she could calm her nerves and allay this persistent premonition of impending peril. After all, she thought, it was foolish to be afraid. So far he had been thoughtful and respectful, and given her no cause for alarm, and as to wild animals, they couldn't get at her if the entrance were closed. Should she disrobe entirely or remain fully dressed to be ready for any emergency? Certainly she would be more comfortable undressed. Besides, it was the only way in which she could get a pillow and covering. At that moment a heavy thud just outside made her heart leap to her mouth. "Who's there?" she cried out. "It's only me," answered Armitage. "I'm fixing the door of your hotel. I guess nothing can get in now. Good night." "Good night!" she replied faintly. She listened to his footsteps as they died away in the distance, and slowly began to disrobe. She was soon undressed and was about to get into bed and cover herself up when a thought occurred to her. There was something still to be done. Dropping on her knees, her bare feet on the cold sand, she buried her face in her hands and for the first time in her life offered up a fervent prayer to the unknown, Almighty Power that directs all things. Grace had never been a devout girl. She had no decided metaphysical views of any kind. She was merely indifferent. Given up solely to a life of pleasure, religion to her had been only a word. Her parents had a pew at St. Thomas', on Fifth Avenue, and when she had a new hat or a new gown to show off, she attended the services in the same spirit that she would go to the horse show or any other fashionable function. Never until now had she felt the need of that moral support and encouragement which never fails to bring comfort to the faithful in their hour of trouble. She prayed earnestly to be saved from her present desperate situation, for protection during the coming night, and she prayed also for her late ship companions who at that moment might be suffering in the open boats. This done, her mind felt easier, and, covering herself as well as she could, she closed her eyes and courted sleep. Happily the night was warm, otherwise her scant covering, consisting solely of a thin mantle, would not have sufficed. Everything outside was perfectly still. The lazy splash of the surf and the gentle murmur of the breeze were the only sounds that reached her ears. Not hearing Armitage moving about she concluded that he had rolled himself up near the fire and gone to sleep. She closed her eyes, and, lulled into drowsiness by the distant music of the sea, she gradually sank into the delicious semi-conscious state that just precedes slumber. Through her tired brain passed confused mental pictures of the extraordinary happenings of the last forty-eight hours--the dance on the deck, the sudden storm, the shock as the great liner struck the sunken reef, the rush for the life-boats, her fall into the water and the long swim until she came to herself on this island and recognized the refractory stoker, Armitage, as her rescuer. She wondered if he was really as black as he had been painted. If he was, she had seen nothing of his bad qualities. He was only a stoker--a superior one to be sure, from his conversation and knowledge of things--and so far he had behaved like a gentleman. She wondered what she would do if suddenly he forced his way in now and attacked her. Would she scream, or faint, or do any of the hysterical things a woman is supposed to do in such circumstances? Her mind dwelt upon his personal appearance. She recalled how handsome, and graceful, and strong he looked as he came along the beach at a swinging gait, bringing to her that greatly needed breakfast, which she had devoured with such appetite. From him, her thoughts traveled homeward. She saw her poor mother and father grieving for her, and her supposed loss the sensation of the hour in their immediate circle of friends. Then her thoughts grew mixed and confused. Her breathing grew more regular, her bosom rose and fell with rhythmic motion, her brain ceased thinking. She was asleep. * * * * * The long hours of the night passed slowly. Her slumber had been as peaceful and profound as that of a child when, about three o'clock, she suddenly awoke with a start. At first she believed she was still in her luxurious stateroom on board the _Atlanta_, but the rough couch, the prickly points of which punctured her thin garment, and the splash of the surf outside rudely reminded her of her misfortune. She wondered what had interrupted her sleep. It was still pitch-dark and everything was quiet, yet she was wide-awake with every sense and nerve alert and tense. Like most persons who awake suddenly in the middle of the night without being able to explain the cause, she was at once seized with nervous dread. Something was wrong. Hastily, fearfully she glanced around, but her eyes were unable to penetrate the opaque darkness that surrounded her. The faint light that came from the cave entrance only served to make the shadows deeper. She strained her ears, but heard no sound. Yet she could not shake off the terrifying suggestion that _some one_ or _something_ had entered the cave while she was asleep and now stood in the shadows watching her, perhaps waiting for an opportunity to attack her. The more she thought of the possibility of such a thing, the more alarmed she became, and her nervousness increased each minute until she was bathed in perspiration from head to foot. She tried to reason with herself, to shake off the impression, and with an exclamation of impatience at her own childishness she turned over and again closed her eyes. But as she moved _It_ moved also. Her alert ear caught the sound of a slow and cautious movement, as if _some one_ or _something_ were creeping on all fours toward her. Petrified with fright, her heart in her mouth, she called out: "Who's there?" There was no answer, but the sound ceased. Something was there, that was certain. At any moment it might spring upon her. She shook with terror, her teeth chattered. She dare not make a movement. Her ears were strained for sounds of further moves. Almost rigid with fright, each passing moment seemed a century. If only she could flee from there and reach the open. She was sorry now that Armitage had left her alone. What would she not give to be able to call him now to her aid! Suddenly the bed moved as though _something_ had accidentally stumbled against it. She distinctly heard a rustling sound as if _something_ had grazed the branches of which her couch was built. The _Thing_, whatever it was, man or beast, was close to her. The suspense was more than she could bear. Almost swooning from terror she sprang up, and, leaning over the side, peered into the darkness. What she beheld made the blood freeze in her veins. A long, slimy-looking, sinuous thing, almost as thick as a man's arm and nearly six feet in length, was gliding slowly and aimlessly about in the shadow. In the faint glimmer of light that struggled in from the entrance to the cave was plainly discernible a pair of glistening eyes set in a squat, flat head, and a cruel mouth with fanglike teeth in which a forked tongue darted rapidly back and forth. It was a huge hooded cobra, the deadliest of all the venomous serpents inhabiting tropical Asia. Panic-stricken, Grace opened her mouth to scream, but no sound issued forth. She tried to flee, but some irresistible power held her rooted to the spot. Every faculty, every muscle in her was paralyzed by unspeakable horror. With eyes dilated with terror, with every nerve tense to the snapping-point, she watched with fearful fascination that hideous, slimy head as with slow, rhythmic motion it swayed from side to side, the forked tongue darting from the horrid mouth as lightning rends the skies. Staring straight into the cruel, beady eyes, her fixed gaze seemed riveted there against her will, as if the reptile had cast over her a hypnotic spell. She felt herself gradually growing numb, cold sweat burst from every pore, her flesh crept, and there was a tingling sensation at the roots of her hair. Each instant she expected that the cobra would dart forward and strike her. The suspense was fearful. The seconds seemed like centuries. She wondered when the fatal moment would come that would mean her death. Certainly, all was over with her now. The storm, the shipwreck--that was nothing. This new peril, a thousand times more deadly than those she had emerged from safely, was momentarily coming nearer, and she was powerless to avert it. She must be resigned to perish miserably and cruelly the most shocking of deaths. Escape was out of the question. Coiled up in threatening attitude at the foot of the bed the reptile was between her and safety. If she attempted to run she would never reach the open. That the cobra was conscious of her presence and was preparing to attack there could be no doubt. It showed its irritation in the manner usual to its species, by dilating its neck until it formed the shape of a broad hood. Evidently the reptile made its home in one of the dark recesses of the cave. Asleep, it had awakened during the night, and its keen sense of smell attracted by the unusual odor of a warm human body, it had crawled to where she lay and now was ready to claim its prey. The slightest move on her part and it would dart forward. A lightninglike thrust forward of that loathsome head, then the powerful, scaly coils would close around her, there would be the ghastly sound of bones being crunched, and all would be over. Armitage would come in only to find her mangled and partially devoured body, perhaps himself to meet with a similar fate. Again she opened her mouth to scream and warn him. Her tongue clove, speechless, to her dry palate. A feeling of nausea came over her, her temples were throbbing, her heart seemed to have stopped beating. She wondered if she had gone mad. She was noting the curious, spectacle-like markings on the back of the reptile's hood when suddenly the cobra started to hiss loudly as slowly it began to move nearer to its trembling victim. Coil after coil of its glistening, sinuous body followed the hideous head as the creature dragged itself along. As it glided its sinister way over the sand the cruel, beady eyes for a brief instant were averted from the girl. Instantly the hypnotic spell which had held her transfixed was broken. Uttering a piercing scream, she sprang from the bed and took refuge on the far side of the cave. The cobra, enraged at her attempt to escape, hissed more loudly, and, accelerating its movements, moved rapidly in her direction. Flattened up against the wall of the cave Grace's lips parted in a last, despairing prayer. She could retreat no farther. Solid rock barred the way, and escape to the open was cut off. She had not improved her position. By seeking to evade her doom, the agony was only drawn out the longer. The cobra was now only a dozen feet away. Coiling upon itself within striking distance it suddenly drew back its head, then, with lightning speed, shot it forward. Quick as the movement was, Grace was quicker. Her instinct of self-preservation enabled her to foretell the instant the creature would spring, and the energy of despair gave her strength. Giving another shout for help, she nimbly jumped aside just in time to avoid the blow. Hissing furiously with baffled rage the serpent resumed the attack. Dawn was slowly breaking, and in the dim light she could see the creature's cruel eyes scintillating as they turned to look for her. Breathless, panting from the unusual exertion, in a state of complete nervous collapse, Grace was in no condition to continue the unequal combat. She realized that her strength was fast ebbing. It was only a question of seconds now when she must succumb. As those horrid, beady eyes met hers, again she was seized with that strange sense of limpness, utter inability to move a muscle. Again she was under the hypnotic spell. She realized that death in its most fearful form was there before her, claiming her. She felt sick and faint. Staggering as she clutched the cold, rocky wall of her living prison, she gave another despairing scream like a wail of human agony. Scarcely conscious, she saw through her half-closed eyes the cobra gliding nearer, she could almost feel the reptile's fetid breath upon her cheek. With hopeless horror she saw it approach closer and closer, then stop and again coil itself ready for the final spring. She shuddered, and, closing her eyes, waited for the end. There was a strange buzzing in her ears. Suddenly everything grew dark. The cobra began hissing more furiously. There was a loud crash and she knew no more. When again she opened her eyes, she was lying on the bed and Armitage was kneeling by her side, bathing her face with water. Surprised to find herself still alive, she looked at him, the look of terror still in her face. Fearfully she whispered: "Where is it? Did you see it?" "It's all right," he said cheerily, trying to quiet her. "It won't trouble you any more." "Was it only a nightmare?" she murmured. "Nightmare--no," he answered. "It was real enough. Look!" He pointed to a few paces away where lay the cobra, dead, its head crushed in by an enormous stone. "I heard you scream," he explained. "I was asleep. It woke me. At first I thought I was dreaming. Then came another scream. I ran here and saw you against the wall yonder and the serpent preparing to spring. I picked up a stone and killed him. I was just in time, a second later and it would have been too late." "Thank God!" she said. Then she fainted again. CHAPTER XII. It was some time before Grace had recovered sufficiently from the nervous shock of her terrifying encounter with the cobra to be able to get about, and during this period of enforced idleness she was compelled to depend altogether on Armitage. He supplied her with the necessaries and, as well as he was able, administered to her comfort. Grateful to him for his attentions, it was not long before her feeling of obligation changed into real regard for the man. The dread in which she at first held him had completely disappeared, as was only natural after the services he had rendered her. Twice she owed him her life. That alone was a debt she could never repay. Moreover, he was thoughtful and courteous, and, so far, at least, had shown no disposition to take advantage of her helpless situation. How much worse her position would be if he were not there at all! But she was too much worried and preoccupied with her own troubles to give her strange companion much thought. She watched him at work, and she ate listlessly the food he brought her, but that was about all the interest she took in anything. Her one burning desire was to get away. During all her waking hours her thoughts turned only in one direction: how to escape as speedily as possible from this wretched island. As the days went by and no vessel appeared, she began to wonder if they would ever be rescued, or if she was doomed to remain on that remote islet for the rest of her days unable to communicate with her father and mother and friends, who, in ignorance of her fate, had long since given her up as dead. Perhaps in years to come some ship touching at the island in search of water would find, strewed along the beach, her bleached bones and his--picked clean by the vultures. She wept bitterly as she thought of it; her face was bathed in tears of compassion over her misfortune. She was ashamed to let Armitage see that she had been crying, but all day she brooded over her sorrow, and at night she dreamed that he was building a boat stout enough to convey them to the mainland. Fearful that she would lose all notion of time, she started to count the days, keeping a rough kind of calender by scratching notches at regular intervals on a shell. She notched off the days one by one, her spirits sinking in proportion as their number increased. In her despair she appealed to her companion to reassure her. But Armitage shook his head dubiously. He had little comfort to offer. "We must be patient," he said grimly. "We're here scarcely a week. Think of those shipwrecked sailors who have been marooned on desert islands for months, even years, often with almost nothing to eat. When finally they were rescued they were not recognizable as men. Their clothes hung upon them in shreds, their hair was matted and over-grown, they had forgotten how to talk, they tore the meat given them with their fingers like famished wolves. We have not so much to complain of. We have plenty of water, enough to eat. It's no use fretting. We must wait patiently. Perhaps we won't have to wait long. Any day our signal-fire may be sighted by a vessel." They now kept two fires going, one close at hand for their own use, and another much bigger on top of the hill for signaling purposes. The hill-top commanded a superb view of every part of the island, and, viewed from the ocean, it must have been a conspicuous mark for miles. They christened it Mount Hope, for on it Grace centered all her fervent prayers for rescue. It became her Mecca, and each day she made the long and exhausting climb up its precipitous slope in the expectation of seeing steamer smoke or a sail on the distant horizon. But disappointment always awaited her. There was nothing in every direction but dreary, monotonous wastes of heaving water, the boisterous waves dancing in the sunlight as if to mock her misery. The care of keeping this signal-fire going devolved on Armitage, and it was the day's most important task. The fire was kept banked with damped moss and peat in the daytime, so it would throw off a smoke thick enough to be visible miles away at sea. At night it was made to blaze furiously with the same object in view. The cave had been deserted long ago. The day following her horrible experience with the serpent, Grace protested hysterically that nothing could induce her to enter the gloomy place again. Sleeping in it, she declared, was utterly out of the question. The cobra was dead, but there was no telling what other reptile as venomous and deadly might again crawl out of the cave's countless holes and recesses. Armitage admitted the possibility, and at once offered to build a cabin for her in the open. It would be far more healthy and comfortable. She gladly consented, and he went to work with a will. He had no tools, and his construction materials were necessarily of the most primitive character. Happily, the weather continued fine, and, while her new home was in the building, Grace managed as best she could under a temporary shelter. Selecting a site that was high and dry, Armitage first dug a square hole in the ground three feet deep by about fourteen feet in length and breadth. Each side of the excavation he lined with stone walls made of huge boulders piled one on top of another, and decreasing in weight and size until they reached a height all round of nearly nine feet. The interstices he filled with clay to keep out the wind and rain, and additional strength was secured for the walls by banking up earth on all four exterior sides. It was a herculean task, for each of the big, heavy stones had to be dragged a considerable distance, and the only implement he had to dig with was a crude spade which he made out of a piece of planed wood found among the drift along the shore and sharpened and hardened in fire. Light entered through a door and window, and then came the roof. This he made with heavy limbs of trees equally matched, which rested on top of the stone walls, these in turn being crossed with smaller branches, and the whole covered with a thick thatch of tussac-grass and moss held in place by heavy stones. The floor inside was strewn with tussac-grass to keep the feet dry from the damp earth. There was also a fireplace for logs, with a flue and chimney to carry off the smoke, and before it was ready for occupancy he started a fire, thus driving out the damp and making it dry and inhabitable. He toiled unceasingly and tirelessly, whistling cheerfully as he worked. As Grace watched him, the thought was impressed upon her more strongly than ever that this man was far happier here amid primeval conditions, thrown upon his own resources, than he had been in a so-called civilized state. Evidently he had no keen desire to be rescued. The thought filled her again with dismay. Not that it would really make any material difference. If succor were coming, they would be rescued whether her mysterious companion wished it or not. But that any human being could be reconciled to spending the remainder of his days on a barren islet in a remote part of the ocean, without clothes, tools, books, or even the bare necessaries of life, was intolerable. A man who could entertain such an idea for a moment could have instincts little superior to a savage. Often she had watched her strange, moody companion as he worked and wondered what his history was. He was no ordinary seaman--that was evident from his speech and manner. He had certainly known better days. He never spoke of himself, and when tactfully she broached the subject, he abruptly changed the conversation. One day she said to him: "You weren't always a stoker, were you--you weren't born to that kind of life?" He stopped in his work, and for a moment looked at her in silence, as if seeking time to frame his answer. Then laconically he said: "My past life is dead. I live only in the present. Just what I seem I am." Still unconvinced, she returned to the attack. "Why did you desert from the steamer in New York?" He clenched his fist as thus brutally she revived the memory of his past suffering, and in a low tone, which came almost like a hiss from between his set teeth, he said: "Because I could not stand it any longer--I just couldn't. I was desperate." "Why did you take to such dreadful work?" she persisted. "Was there nothing else more congenial, less brutalizing that you could do?" He shook his head. "No--nothing. There was nothing else." Bitterly he added: "The poor must slave so that the rich may enjoy." Puzzled, she asked: "What do you mean?" "It's no use going into particulars," he replied, almost contemptuously. "You wouldn't understand." Turning on his heel, he resumed his work on the cabin. Grace did understand. She understood that there was something in the past life of this man which he did not wish to divulge. She felt that he had suffered, and she was sorry for him. Again she tried to draw him out, but skilfully he parried her questions, and appeared to resent them. Noticing this, she desisted. His past, as far as she was concerned, at any rate, was and must remain a sealed book. But Grace did not remain silent for all that. She was too much of a woman to permit of that. Seeing that she could get nothing from him, she talked about herself. She chattered about her home in New York, about her friends, about the things which interested her and the things which bored her. He listened as he worked, apparently interested, and when she said that she despised the empty and frivolous amusements of her set and was ambitious to do something more worthy in life, he nodded approvingly. When she had told him everything, once more she attempted to question him in turn, but he relapsed into an obstinate silence. After a week's continuous toil the cabin was completed. As a finishing touch, he made some furniture for it--a crude table and two three-legged stools. When he had put the bed in place the hut was ready for occupancy. When at last everything was ready, he called out to Grace to come and inspect her new home. "You'll be comfortable in here," he said cheerily. "At least there are no snakes. I can promise you that." He waited for her to say something, expecting that she would be pleased. "It's very nice," she said hesitatingly. "Only----" "Only what?" he demanded in a tone of disappointment. "It's too bad to have taken so much pains for so short a time," she said. He laughed carelessly. "So short a time?" he echoed. Almost mockingly he asked: "Do you expect to leave here so soon?" "As soon as I can--you may depend upon that!" she replied determinedly, almost ready to cry. His indifference angered her. She thought it brutal when he knew how unhappy and miserable she was and how anxious to get back to her family. At that moment she hated him. "Ah, that's just it!" he exclaimed, with a gesture of impatience. "As soon as you can! But you can't! We're prisoners here--in prison just as securely as though we were behind iron bars. We can't get away." "But we'll get away some time, won't we?" she gasped. He shook his head. "The chances are slim," he replied grimly. "Then what good is our signal-fire?" she persisted. "Not much good," he admitted frankly. Her heart sank. Her face paled, and her lips trembled as she asked: "Don't you think it'll be seen sooner or later? Ships must pass by here some time." He shrugged his shoulders. "Even if they do, they may not see the fire. If a ship passes near this island it would be a great distance away. It would never occur to them to look here for signals. Besides, very few vessels do pass. A ship may not sight our signal for a year, maybe five years, perhaps never. You remember Alexander Selkirk--Robinson Crusoe. He was twenty-eight years on Tobago island--in complete solitude." Grace gave a low moan of distress. "At least," he went on, after some hesitation, "we have each other." This remark angered her. She thought it impertinent. The boldness of his veiled insinuation was more than she could bear. He actually contemplated the possibility of a permanent stay. "I couldn't stand it," she cried hoarsely, her eyes filled with scalding tears. "I would rather kill my self." He shrugged his shoulders, and that made her all the more angry. "You don't care," she went on. "You're willing to sacrifice me because you prefer this kind of existence to the wretched life you've had." This speech aroused him to action. All his life he had suffered from injustice. This girl, he thought, was like all the others. For a moment, he lost his sang-froid. "You're unjust!" he replied hotly. "I'm doing all I can. Who built the signal-fire on Mount Hope? I did. Who keeps it going night and day? I do. It's no fun climbing up that steep hill collecting fresh fuel, but I do it. Even in my sleep sometimes I wake up in fright, thinking I may have neglected to throw on enough fuel, fearful that the fire will go out--my last match gone. I work myself into a cold sweat thinking of it. I can't sleep. At last I am unable to stand it any longer. I get up and rush to the hill-top, all for nothing. The signal-fire is still burning brightly. All that time you are sleeping peacefully. Does that look as if I didn't care?" "Forgive me," she murmured between her tears. "I'm peevish and unreasonable. Forgive me. I'm so unhappy!" He smiled sympathetically. "Don't get discouraged," he said kindly. "As long as we're here, it's best to get along as well as we can. It's no use fretting. If help is coming it will come. You'll not mend matters by worrying." She felt he was right. What use were her tears and her irritation? He was doing all he could. They were in the hands of an inscrutable Providence. As long as the signal-fire was kept burning there was hope. CHAPTER XIII. Slowly the weeks slipped by. The castaways were still in their island prison with relief as far away, apparently, as ever. Grace had taken possession of her cabin and made herself as comfortable as it was possible under the circumstances. The luxuries to which she had always been accustomed were lamentably lacking. There was no dainty bathroom for her ablutions, no maid to answer her call, no extensive wardrobe to select from, no telephone through which she could chat with friends. But at least she had shelter and a bed to sleep upon, and for these blessings she was sensible enough to be devoutly thankful. Armitage had built close by, for his own use, a similar, but less elaborate, hut, and he took a certain pride in keeping it in order. One day Grace found some flowers on the table in her cabin. Only one person could have put them there, and when she realized that fact, it came rather as a shock to find her strange companion paying her attentions of this nature. "Thank you for the flowers," she said, with some embarrassment. "I thought they'd brighten the place up a bit," he replied awkwardly: He smiled, and she noticed for the first time that he had fine white teeth. But nothing more was said, and he went unconcernedly about his work. For the remainder of that morning she avoided him. She left her cabin and fled to Mount Hope, straining her eyes once more in a fruitless effort to see appear on the horizon the ship which would come to her rescue. Monotonous and lonely as was their existence on this remote islet, there was plenty of work to be done, and the hours sometimes sped by so quickly that both Grace and Armitage were astonished. The shadows of night would fall when they had thought it only a little past noon; Each did a share of the day's work, glad of the occupation that helped to divert the mind. The signal-fire on Mount Hope demanded most of Armitage's attention; When not engaged in gathering fuel, he went on long foraging expeditions. The problem of procuring food was no light one, and, like other shipwrecked sailors, who have had to exercise their wits, he was quick to devise ways to keep their larder supplied. He caught fish with a hook made out of a sharp-pointed stick hardened in flame; he killed sea-gulls with stones hurled from a sling; he overturned turtles while they lay basking in the sun, and he saw to it that they had an abundant supply of fresh drinking-water. Grace also was not idle. She mended and patched their clothes with needles made of fish-bone and thread made of the fiber of plantain fruit; and under Armitage's clumsy tuition she quickly learned how to cook. He showed her how to clean and broil the fish he caught, and taught her how to obtain salt by boiling sea water until the water evaporated. In a cleverly improvised oven which he built for her, she learned how to bake delicious cakes of flour made from dried and pulverised plantain fruit. She prepared their meals, which they ate together at regular hours, and for dessert she set before him plantains, quinces, limes, and cocoanuts which she herself had gathered in the wood. This constant and intimate association could have only one result. Every day it brought the proud beauty and her taciturn companion closer than would have been possible under any other conditions. At times, in her interest in the work of the moment, Grace would entirely forget their difference in class. She would unbend and laugh and chat with him as though she had known him for years. Then, an instant later, suddenly conscious of their respective positions and what she thought she owed to her own dignity, she would relapse into an abrupt silence and draw away once more, cold and reserved. But this purely artificial demeanor could not be kept up. A few hours later, obeying her natural impulse, she was herself again, chatting with him freely, asking his opinion, trying to please him, full of respect for his superior judgment. Armitage listened to her ceaseless prattle, amused at her vivacity, replying gravely to her questions, explaining all she wished to know. During long, idle afternoons they would sit together on the beach and he would tell her stories of the sea, about lands he had visited, strange people he had seen, while Grace, curled up at his feet, like a child, listened with breathless attention. Thus gradually, almost unconsciously, their mutual interest in each other grew. They became necessary to each other. Sharing common perils, they naturally sought each other's companionship, and to Grace as much as to Armitage the unconventional association and comradeship was as delightful as it was novel. Grace was pleased because he treated her not as other men had done, as a toy, only to be flattered with foolish compliments, but as a woman, a helpmate, whose opinion was worth having. Greatly to her surprise, Grace soon found herself taking pleasure in this bucolic, semi-savage sort of a life. It was so utterly unlike anything which she had ever known that, at times, she thought it must be all unreal and that, sooner or later, she would wake up from what was only a fantastic dream. But it was real enough. She had only to glance around her to realize the grim truth. There was Armitage a short distance away along the beach trying with a crudely made net to catch fish for their noonday meal, yonder on top of Mount Hope a column of black smoke was ascending to the blue sky--a mute and urgent summons to the outer world for help--and if any further testimony were needed she had only to look down at her own tattered rags, scarcely recognizable now as a gown to bring back with vividness all that had happened since the moment the typhoon broke. Yet, as the time went on, with rescue no nearer than before, Grace seemed each day more resigned to her precarious situation. She did not fret so much. Her nervousness disappeared and her spirit became more buoyant. There ware moments when she even felt happy. Armitage was quick to notice it, and by the way he smiled as he greeted her, by the almost boyish enthusiasm he went about his work, it was evident that he welcomed the change. Grace was surprised herself. At first it alarmed her to note her growing indifference. She could not understand the reason. Sensibly she argued that she could not be always fretting. If she did, nervous collapse would be the consequence. It never occurred to her that this new life in the exhilarating sea air explained the secret, that her body was growing more healthy and normal under the new hygienic conditions, and that as her body changed, her mental outlook changed also. The discomforts which she had to put up with were, of course, many, and her anxiety regarding the outcome of the adventure as poignant as ever, yet in other respects it was an almost ideal existence. The weather was perfect. She lived, so to speak, in a bower of flowers, in idyllic peace, with nothing to disturb the general serenity. She had all the food to eat that her appetite craved for, there was plenty of crystal spring water to drink. At night she slept peacefully, lulled by the rhythmical music of the waves as they washed lazily against the shore, and when she awoke the birds were singing their joyous notes of welcome to another glorious day. It was the voluptuous life of the tropics with all its dreamy languor, its sensuous charm. Constant living in the open had indeed effected a wonderful improvement in her personal appearance. Had she possessed a mirror she would scarcely have recognized in that health-flushed face, tanned by wind and sun, the pale and languid girl whose condition had alarmed her friends in New York. With her large dark eyes, clear and limpid, her lips, red and tempting as cherries, her glorious hair caught up in careless knot, her bosom fuller, her lines more rounded, her walk with an elasticity it had never known before--she was in the full bloom of youth and beauty. Grace herself realized the change, and vaguely she guessed that this explained the new mental attitude she had assumed toward her unfortunate position. Not only in body, but in her mind she felt more vigorous. Her despondency had given place to a pronounced optimism. She took keen interest in everything taking place around her. She was no longer peevish and irritable. She laughed and chatted with the spontaneous gaiety of youth, and if it were not for a constantly gnawing anxiety to know what the future had in store, to communicate with her parents, she would have been content to go on living like this for months. Not only were the surroundings ideal and conducive to real happiness, but it was a new and pleasurable sensation to her to find that she could be of some use in the world. She took pride in doing her share of the work, and her respect for herself grew in proportion as she felt that her services were appreciated by Armitage. Gradually she learned to scrutinize his face to see if he approved what she had done, and if she saw him smile she beamed with satisfaction. Long ago she had come to the conclusion that her companion was no ordinary man. Not only was he above his apparent station in life, but he possessed qualities that she had never yet detected in any of the men she had met. Not only was he handsome and built like an Apollo, but she recognized his superior mentality. He was born for leadership--that was evident by the manner in which he had managed things on this island. He had suffered in life, for some cause which he kept secret, and had been forced to take to brutalizing work. But it had not degraded him. He was kind and gentle, unselfish and brave. While he succeeded in concealing his own past life, Armitage was less successful in concealing his interest in his companion. Grace's feminine tuition told her that he admired her, and, although she knew that socially he was far beneath her, she was still woman enough to be gratified. Besides, she did not seek to disguise from herself the fact that she was strangely attracted toward this man. He had about him a magnetism which she could not explain. Perhaps more than anything else it was the very mystery with which he surrounded himself that interested and attracted her. She found herself speculating strangely. Suppose he had been a man of her own class, would she marry him? Was he the type of man she could love? She remembered Professor Hanson's queer hypothesis that afternoon on the steamer. Suppose this man were to make love to her and insisted on the ties suggested by the professor. What could she do to protect herself? What could she do? She was utterly helpless. There would be nothing to do but throw herself on his generosity. It annoyed her when she realized how much her companion entered into her thoughts. She tried not to feel lonely when he was away. She tried not to feel pleased when he returned. But she knew that she was lying to herself, and at moments it terrified her when slowly it dawned upon her that her strange, mysterious companion had entered into her most intimate life. Was it love? She laughed at the absurdity of the idea, and to show her indifference, so Armitage might plainly understand the difference in their positions, she forced herself to seem cold and reserved. He noticed the sudden change in her manner, and, unable to account for it, thought he must have displeased her. One day he had gone up to Mount Hope to attend, as usual, to the signal-fire. She was alone. The day's work was done, and, somewhat fatigued, she was resting, seated on the verdant, sloping beach overlooking the sea. At her feet stretched the golden sands, gently laved by the rippling, transparent waves. The air was full of sweet scents, and the temperature so warm that even the thinnest clothing was almost unendurable. Drowsy from the heat, she lay under the grateful shade of spreading trees, and, looking out over the glistening ocean, watched the water as it sparkled in the sunlight. Her eyes half-closed, her entire being thrilled by a novel sensation of languor, she abandoned herself to the voluptuousness of the place and moment. Had she been alone, with no one to see her and no danger of a sudden surprise, she would have loved to divest herself of all her clothing and, nymphlike, roll nude in the golden sands like the woman she once saw in a picture called "The Birth of the Wave." Her form was physically as beautiful. She wondered if Armitage thought her beautiful--if he ever thought of her at all as men think of women--and gradually her mind wandered in strange channels. As she lay there basking in the ardent sunshine, she felt the pleasurable, exhilarating sensation of enjoying perfect animal health. A strange feeling of languor came over her. This, she knew, was happiness and the joy of life, and yet she felt that there was still something lacking to make that happiness complete. As her eye dwelt on the loveliness of the surrounding scene, perhaps for the first time she understood the enthusiasm of those nature lovers who are content only when in the country. What, indeed, were the artificial, tawdry delights of the man-made cities compared with the delights of life in the God-made fields? She thought of overheated ballrooms, inane afternoon teas, tiresome bridge-parties. What were they compared to lying there, listening to the birds singing in the trees, her cheek gently wafted by the soft sea breeze, the pure air filling her lungs and shading the damask on her cheek. If her dear old dad saw her he would hardly know her. She knew what her life lacked--love. A man whom she could admire and respect, a man who would rule her with his iron will and crush her if need be in his strong arms. Would she ever meet such a man? Had she already met him? Once more her mind conjured up the picture of the ideal man--the man of her day-dream on the steamer. If he should come along now, would she have the strength of will to resist the pressure of his ardent lips. Her eyes closed, she fancied she saw him coming, his head thrown back, straight as an arrow, handsome as an Apollo. As he passed he stopped, fascinated by her beauty. He came nearer, and with a cry of joy clasped her closely in furious embrace. Weakly she tried to avoid the warm kisses he rained on her too willing mouth. As she turned she chanced to see his face, and, starting back, she gave a cry. It was a face she knew. Frightened, she opened her eyes and sat up. Armitage was standing before her. "Were you asleep?" he asked, with a smile. "I hope I didn't disturb you." "Where have you been?" she asked, embarrassed. "Up on Mount Hope tending the fire," he replied, his eyes taking in every detail of her splendid beauty. Her hair was disarranged and her bodice open at the neck because of the heat. He thought she looked the prettier, and he was only human. "Nothing in sight, I suppose," she asked. "No, nothing," he answered. She rose and, going to the cabin, hastened to prepare their supper. While she bustled about he sat quietly and watched her. He hoped she would not read on his face the happiness that was in his heart. Yes, she had guessed aright. He was happier on this desert island than ever before. It was true that he had no wish to be rescued. For him rescue meant going back to purgatory, while this was Elysium. Never in all his life had he known such happiness as this. Only one thing was lacking to make his happiness complete. It was to call this woman--wife. He did not know how it had come to him, but he loved her with a fierceness that frightened him. He did not like to even admit it to himself or even to think of it. But he knew that he must have this woman or his life must end. To live without her was impossible. It was inconceivable. He had tasted of Heaven these last few weeks, and if he lost that he must lose everything. Of course it was an impossible dream. She was rich. When she left here she would forget him. If one day she met him in New York she would even disdain to look at him. He clenched his fists and ground his teeth. Why should he lose this happiness that had come to him? He wanted this woman. No one should rob him of her. Even if it cost him his life and hers, he was determined to have her for his own. Why should he be denied her? Their rescue from this island was improbable, if not impossible. Ships never passed near there. It was too far from the beaten track, too full of hidden dangers. Navigators knew that and gave the island a wide berth. He had lied to her to reassure her, but he knew rescue was out of the question. They would spend the rest of their days there. The days would lengthen into months, the months into years. Their youth would go. Old age would come. Then it would be too late, and they would both be sorry. Why should they not mate now? He remembered the mutineers of H. M. S. _Bounty_--a true story of the sea which had always fascinated him. The men revolted and killed their officers and landed on an island inhabited by savages. They killed the men and married the women, and to this day their descendants were sturdy fishermen. Long after Grace had retired to rest, Armitage sat under the trees alone amid the silent beauty of the tropical night. The stars in their countless millions shone bright and resplendent in the clear atmosphere. The firmament was a glorious blaze of light. The planets flashed like suns, and changed color as he gazed at them. The small stars twinkled more humbly in a milky way that stretched across the heavens, while now and again a brilliant meteor, outlaw of the heavenly host, shot across space and as quickly disappeared. It was a spectacle for the gods, but Armitage heeded it not. Lost in meditation of things more earthly, he was wondering if he could win this woman for himself, how he could delay the dreaded moment which would take her out of his life. * * * * * The next day when he suggested that they explore their lonely domain together, Grace readily consented to accompany him. Laughing merrily and chattering like a magpie, she walked briskly along at his side. The day was ideal. The weather was dry and clear, with an invigorating breeze from the sea, and, as they strode along in the dazzling sunshine, Grace felt buoyant with health and exuberant spirits. They followed the coast-line, making their way in and out among the rocks. From the interstices of the tall cliffs as they approached flew out hundreds of wild sea-gulls uttering shrill cries of alarm. Armitage picked up a stone, but Grace stayed his arm. "It's bad luck to kill one," she said. "Let them live. Besides, they're our neighbors. They're the only other inhabitants besides ourselves." The tide was out, so their way along the smooth sands was easy. The beach was covered with shells of remarkable luster and beauty, and Grace insisted on stopping to gather some. Presently they came to a creek, with stepping-stones covered with slippery moss. The problem was how to get across. "Come along," said Armitage, leading the way. "I'm afraid I'll fall into the water," exclaimed Grace, looking ruefully at the water. "No, you won't. Take my arm," said Armitage. They went across together, her arm closely locked in his. Suddenly she slipped. If she had not been holding tight to his arm, she would have fallen into the creek. As it was, she was badly frightened, and clung more nervously to him. He felt her warm body pressed close against his, and a thrill went through him. There was still some distance to go before the opposite bank was reached. Putting his arm round her waist, Armitage reassured her. "You won't fall. Just keep close to me and step as I step," he said. He felt her warm breath on his cheek. His head seemed to swim round. It needed all his self-control to keep his equilibrium and get across. Finally they reached the other bank in safety. Leaving the beach, they clambered up the rocks, to the higher land, where they found an abundance of coarse grass with ravines and hollows choked up with a luxuriant growth of tropical vegetation. They entered a dense wood, almost impenetrable with tangled foliage, thick undergrowth, and hidden roots of trees. Carefully, he made a path for her, and once, when they came to a running stream with no way to ford it, he had to lift her up in his strong arms and take her across like a baby. Soon they came to a clearing, sweet with the odor of wild orchids and jasmine. Through the thick foliage of the spreading trees they had glimpses of the shimmering surface of the turquoise-blue sea. They sat down in the grass, glad to rest after their exertions, and when they got hungry they ate the provisions Grace had thoughtfully provided. It was a delightful picnic, and Grace laughed with glee. Armitage had plucked a plantain and was eating the fruit when suddenly he stopped and looked fixedly at her. "Why do you look at me like that?" she asked roguishly. "Because you are nice to look at," he answered gravely. "I look at the sea because it is beautiful. I look at you. You are beautiful." She laughed and reddened. The compliment was clumsy, but it pleased her because she knew he meant it. To her it sounded better than any of the compliments paid her in New York's drawing-rooms. To change the conversation she said: "I wonder if we shall ever get away from here?" He said nothing, but his eyes sought hers. After a pause, he said boldly: "I don't know. To be quite honest, I'm in no hurry. I'm very happy here." Grace made no reply. This time she did not even seem angry. CHAPTER XIV. Another fortnight passed and still no sign from the great wide world beyond the seas. The days came and went with monotonous regularity. According to the notches on Grace's shell calendar, which she had made carefully with each rising and setting of the sun, they were now well on toward the end of September. Three long months had gone by since that terrible night when the hurricane drove the ill-fated _Atlanta_ on the reef. Would a ship never come? This question Grace had asked herself almost hourly until gradually the belief came firmly rooted in her mind that they would never be rescued, that she was doomed to spend the rest of her life in this unknown, out of the way island, her grief-stricken parents believing that she had been drowned when the _Atlanta_ went down. If any of the survivors reached land, as she supposed some of them did, the news would have been instantly cabled to America, and her name would be listed among the missing. No doubt her father had long given her up for dead. It would never occur for him to come in search of her. Nor was there much chance of a passing vessel ever seeing the smoke from the signal-fire. As Armitage had said, they were probably hundreds of miles out of the shipping track. In all probability no human being had ever set foot on that islet before. Yet she never quite lost courage. Each day she made her weary pilgrimage to the summit of Mount Hope and eagerly scanned the horizon. Only disappointment awaited her. There was never anything in sight to bring joy to her heart. They kept the big signal-fire going just the same. Night and day it burned, sending its flaming message of distress over the vast waste of heaving waters. It was never permitted to die down. Fresh fuel was piled on until the flames leaped high in the air or the thick black smoke went curling up in a long, straight column to the sky. Either the smoke or the blaze must be seen miles away at sea. Any moment some ship might turn out of her course and come to investigate. Otherwise they seldom discussed the chances of rescue. By mutual consent it seemed to be a tabooed topic. Armitage never failed in his self-appointed task; he kept the fire going with a plentiful supply of driftwood, but that was all. He never voluntarily mentioned the signal-fire or the prospects of getting away, and intuitively she knew that it was a subject that was distasteful to him. If he took the pains to keep up the fire, he did it for her sake. She understood that, and she was mutely grateful to him for it. In return, she was considerate for his feelings. She avoided speaking of her desire for a ship to arrive. Occupied with their daily tasks, they never broached the subject. When he went up the hill to attend to the fire he was always alone, and she tactfully selected a time when he was occupied about the encampment to make her daily climb to Mount Hope. What if help did not come? Could they--he and she--go on forever living together like this? She was an intelligent girl. She knew that the present relations between herself and Armitage were artificial, and based wholly upon the conventions of organized society. But they were unnatural relations, contrary to the laws of nature. In her heart she knew that she cared more for this strange, silent man than she dared to admit. Yes, he was the man of her day-dreams, the man she had waited for, the man she could love. She did not ask what he had been. She only knew him as he was. She loved him for what he was. He was poor, he was not what the world calls of gentle birth, yet he had qualities that in her eyes raised him above all men more favored by fortune. He was one of nature's noblemen. Some great secret sorrow had wrecked his life, but it had not taken from him his sweetness of character, his beauty of face and mind, his manly courage, his courtesy to a lonely, helpless woman. She loved the rich tones of his voice, the sad, wistful gaze in his fine eyes when they looked silently into hers. She knew of what he was thinking. She knew the dread that was on his heart--the dread of a misfortune a hundred times worse than any that had yet embittered his life. The dread that one day, sooner or later, the ship would come to carry away from him forever the woman who had once more made life seem worth living. One morning Grace was sitting sewing, deftly plying the fish-bone needle which Armitage had made for her. She was making a desperate effort to patch up, for the hundredth time, her old battered ball-dress, which now, reduced to shreds, scarcely covered her decently. Armitage, no better off as regards attire, was stretched out on the sands near her, watching her work. It was a domestic scene. Any stranger chancing to pass that way would have taken them for a young married couple, the man evidently a fisherman, the woman, his wife, doing the household mending. A short distance away was their cabin, and on the fire close by the iron saucepan in which a savory mess was cooking for their noonday meal. Nothing was lacking to make the picture of connubial felicity complete. Some such thought occurred to Armitage, for suddenly he blurted out: "Do you believe in marriage?" She looked up in surprise. "Do I believe in marriage?" she smiled. "What a singular question. Of course I do." "What do you understand by marriage?" he persisted. Grace thought for a moment and then readily replied: "Marriage is a contract entered into by a man and woman by which they become husband and wife." Nodding assent, he went on: "That is to say, a contract entered into between themselves?" "Not exactly," replied Grace hesitatingly. "Rather I should say an act before a magistrate or a religious ceremony by which the legal relationship is sanctioned by the law and church." "Then, without such act or ceremony, you would not consider a marriage binding or right?" "No," answered Grace emphatically. He remained silent a moment, and then he said: "But suppose a man and a woman loved each other and wished to enter into the married state, and yet were so placed that it was impossible for their union to have the sanction of either the law or church, what then?" Grace laid down her work and, shaking her head, looked gravely at her interlocutor: "It is difficult to answer such a question offhand," she said. "I think it would depend altogether on the circumstances and chiefly on the personal views of those directly concerned. Some people scoff at marriage. Among them are many of my own sex. They regard marriage merely as a time-honored, worn out convention which really means nothing. They get married, of course, not because they believe in it as an institution, but as a matter of form, because their mothers did it before them, because it is the thing to do. But not unreasonably, they argue, that nowadays when it is so easy to obtain a divorce on the most trivial pretext, there is not much left about marriage that is sacred and binding." He listened attentively. When she ceased speaking, he asked quietly: "And what is your view? Do you indorse these opinions?" "No, I do not," she replied, meeting his steady gaze frankly. "I believe in marriage. I think it is the noblest gift that civilization has bequeathed to the human race. It marks the great divide between man and the brute. More than that, it protects the woman who is, naturally, the weaker, and, above all, it protects the offspring." "You are right," he rejoined quickly, "yet isn't it curious that man seems happiest under monogamy, which is directly contrary to nature. Man is naturally polygamous." "Ah, but that is only brute love. It rests on nothing tangible. Like a tiny flame, it is extinguished by the first adverse breath of wind. Man thinks he is polygamous. But that is only the beast in him--the beast with which his better and higher nature is ever at war. The superior man learns to control his appetites, the baser man indulges them, and therefore is nearer to the tailed ancestry from which he originally sprang. That is not love as I understand it." He leaned quickly forward. "How do you understand love?" he asked, in low, eager tones. Grace smiled, and, poutingly, she protested: "Why do you question me in this way?" Slightly raising himself on one hand, he drew nearer to her and looked steadily up into her face until the boldness of his gaze embarrassed her. Her cheeks reddened, and she lowered her eyes. "What do you know about love?" he demanded hoarsely. "Every woman knows or thinks she knows," she replied, with affected carelessness. He was silent for a moment, and then he went on: "Suppose a woman--say a friend of yours--loved a man, with all the strength of her heart and soul. Suppose special conditions made her legal union with that man impossible. Would you forgive her if her great love tempted her to give herself to that man, or would you insist that she should suffer and make him suffer--alone?" She listened with averted face. Well she knew the purport of these questions. But her face remained impassive, and her voice was calm as she replied gently: "No woman may sit in judgment over another woman. No woman can tell positively what she might do under all circumstances. The temptation might be such that even a saint would succumb. That reminds me. Do you know the story of the Abbess of Jouarre?" "No," replied Armitage; "what is it? Tell it me." He settled down more comfortably in the sand to listen. Grace smiled, and took up her sewing again. "It's a story that made a deep impression on me," she said. "It was during the bloodiest days of the French Revolution. On the Place de la Concorde a hundred lives were being sacrificed on the guillotine daily to appease the savage fury of the populace. Among the aristocrats sentenced to death and who awaited in the Temple prison their turn to be summoned to the scaffold was a chevalier, scion of one of the proudest families of France and an Abbess, a woman of gentle birth, both of whom had been denounced to the Revolutionary tribunal. They had known and loved each other as children, and they met in prison for the first time since the Abbess had taken her vows. Closely associated within the dungeon's grim walls they soon discovered that time had not killed their youthful infatuation. In the shadow of death the Abbess was willing to admit that she had loved the chevalier all these years, that she had prayed for him and carried his image in her heart. He clasped her in his arms and, pleading his unconquerable passion, he urged her to forget her vows and give herself to him. Kindly, but firmly, she withdrew from his embrace and gravely recalled him to a sense of duty. She declared that being now the affianced bride of Heaven, it was forbidden for her to even think of earthly ties or joys. But the chevalier refused to listen to reason or to calm his ardor. He insisted that such love as theirs was sacred, and that her vows to the Church did not bind her, now that she was about to die. In another few hours they would both be dead. Her duty, during the short time she had yet to live, was to yield to the promptings of her heart rather than to heed the dictates of her conscience. Their union, he said, would be a marriage before God, and after their earthly death they would be united forever in Heaven. The Abbess listened. Her great love gradually gained the mastery over her moral scruples. Her opposition weakened. The chevalier took her again in his arms." Grace ceased speaking. Armitage, his face betraying more and more interest, waited for her to continue. "That is not all," he said interrogatively. Grace shook her head. "No, now comes the tragedy of it." Continuing, she went on: "The next day the prison doors were thrown open, and brutal jailers read out the lists of names of those prisoners who that morning must ride in the fatal death-cart. Among the first summoned was the chevalier. Tenderly he bade the Abbess farewell. Death he hailed with joy, for it marked the beginning of their coming felicity in another and better world. He disappeared, and the Abbess awaited her turn. Other names were called, but hers was not among them. The jailer stopped reading and turned to depart. The Abbess tremulously asked when her hour, too, would come. The jailer answered: 'You go free--by order of the Tribunal.'" Again Grace was silent. Armitage seemed lost in thought. Presently he said: "And the Abbess--what became of her?" "She had to bear her cross for her great sin. Her punishment was worse than death. Not only had she broken her vows and offended Heaven, but she was separated forever from the man to whom she had given her love. Cursed by the Church, shunned by everybody, she wandered miserably from village to village, leading by the hand a little child." Armitage was silent for a few minutes, and then he said: "You were reminded of this story by some remark you had previously made: What was it?" "I said in answer to your hypothesis as to what a woman would or would not do for a man she loved, that even a saint might succumb, given certain circumstances. The Abbess was a saint. Yet she sinned." "I don't think I would call that a sin," objected Armitage. "The real sinner was the judge who pardoned her." "Why not the chevalier who tempted her?" rejoined Grace. He made no answer, but remained looking steadfastly at her. Then rising abruptly to his feet, he began to pace nervously up and down the sands. His face was pale, his eyes flashed, the muscles around his mouth twitched. He gave every sign of being under an intense emotional strain. There was something to be said, and he dare not say it. It was a novelty for him to find himself lacking in courage. At any other time he would have faced a tiger about to spring; he would have looked without flinching into the muzzle of a leveled rifle. But at that instant he quailed like a craven--he dared not tell this girl that he loved her and wanted her for his wife. CHAPTER XV. He disappeared and Grace did not see him again for the remainder of that day. All afternoon she waited, expecting each moment to see him reappear. Not wishing to be away in case he suddenly returned and wanted some supper, she omitted her customary visit to Mount Hope. At first she did not mind his long absence. Busily preoccupied with her sewing and half a dozen other tasks about the camp, the time passed so quickly that she hardly noticed it. But when darkness commenced to fall and still he did not come, she began to feel uneasy. He had not told her that he expected to be gone so long. Something must have happened. Perhaps he had met with an accident and at that very moment was lying hurt, in need of assistance. She turned hot and cold by turns at this thought. Suppose he were killed! A sudden choking sensation in her throat, a quickened beating of her heart, told her that it would be a greater misfortune than any that had yet befallen her. If she had never fully realized it before, Grace knew now that this man had come to be part of her own life. Night fell, with its profound silence and its mysterious sounds. Nature slept. The chirping of crickets, the croaking of frogs, the mournful sighing of the wind in the trees, the sullen splash of the waves on the sandy beach, were the only audible sounds. It was the first time that Grace had been left so long alone since they set foot on the island. In the daytime, with the sun shining, the birds singing and everything plainly visible for miles around, she did not care. But the darkness, the solemn silence, the strange inexplicable noises she heard every now and again in the wood--all this frightened her. Everything around her assumed strange, unfamiliar shapes. At one time she thought she saw some object with gleaming eyes approaching the cabin. Her flesh began to creep. Terrified, she quickly retreated inside the cabin and, barricading the door with table and chairs, crouched down by the window, straining her ears to hear some sound of Armitage. Suppose something had happened to him! Then she would be quite alone, entirely defenceless. The mere thought of such an eventuality caused the blood to freeze in her veins. How could she be alone on that desert island? She would go stark, staring mad. Ah, now she knew what his companionship had meant to her. If only he would come back, she would hardly be able to resist the temptation to throw her arms round his neck. He was more necessary to her every day. No one can live without human companionship. She must have some one to talk to. Besides, every hour it dawned upon her more strongly that she loved this strange, solitary man. Even at this moment of terror it was love as much as fear that racked her heart with anxiety and anguish. Morning was just breaking in the east when all at once he reappeared. "Where have you been?" she asked tremulously. She averted her eyes so he should not see that she had been weeping. "I don't know," he answered curtly. He seemed worn and tired. His boots were muddy, his clothes had fresh rents and stains. He looked as if he had been tramping through the woods all night. "Will you eat something?" she asked. "Don't bother," he replied. "I'll get something." "It's no trouble," she said. Going quickly to their simple larder, she put before him some cold fish and plantain cakes. He ate ravenously, in stubborn silence. When she spoke to him, he replied in low monosyllables. His eyes seemed to avoid her searching, inquiring gaze. Once she happened to turn quietly and she caught him staring at her in a strange way. His manner somewhat intimidated her. She wondered if she could possibly have done or said something to displease him. It grew lighter every minute, but the day promised to be gloomy. The sun was invisible behind a bank of mist, and the entire sky was overcast. It looked like rain. There was a damp chill in the air. The weather seemed in harmony with Armitage's unaccountable behavior. Grace felt chilled herself. She had a presentiment that something was about to happen. Whether it would affect her or him she did not know, but instinct told her that danger of some kind threatened. Something troubled her companion, that was certain. What its nature was, she could not guess. She had never seen him so moody or acting so strangely. But, unwilling to put herself in the delicate position of asking for confidence he withheld, she desisted from any further questioning, and, leaving him alone, went to her cabin. She was exhausted from her long vigil and it was not many minutes after she threw herself down on the bed before she was fast asleep. When she awoke he was gone. He had disappeared mysteriously, just as he had the first time, without leaving a word behind or a single indication to tell where he was going, or how long he would be away. Yet he had not entirely forgotten her. He had brought a fresh supply of spring water, and before the door of her cabin she found some freshly caught fish and a new supply of plantains. Refreshed after her sleep, Grace went cheerfully about her usual morning tasks. She tidied her cabin, took her sea bath, and prepared the noonday meal. So busy was she that Armitage's new absence remained unnoticed. In fact, she dismissed him from her mind. If she thought of him at all it was to wonder vaguely what ailed him, and speculate idly how long his mood would last. By the time the sun was directly overhead, her work was done. Armitage not having returned, she ate her meal alone. It was no use waiting around any longer, so she started, after dinner, for Mount Hope. For two days she had not paid her regular visit to the signal-fire. She felt a sense of guilt, as if she had neglected the one thing which alone could save her. It was a difficult, laborious climb up the hill, and she was compelled to rest several times on the way to the summit. She looked up as she went, trying to catch a glimpse of the smoke that was announcing to the whole universe that two human beings were in need of immediate relief. She could not see the smoke, owing to the projecting rocks which hid the summit from view. At the next turn she would come in sight of it. Up and up she went, out of breath. Every now and then she halted and looked back. At this height, fully 500 feet above the sea, she commanded a superb view of the entire island. A few barren rocks connected by grassy and thickly wooded plateaus, it made but a speck on the surface of the wide ocean. Below, under the shelter of the tall cliffs, she saw their two cabins nestling under the trees. Thinking she might catch a glimpse of Armitage, she strained her eyes in every direction. But he was nowhere to be seen. There was not a sign of life anywhere. Not a human voice, not the bark of a dog. Even the birds were dumb. Perfect stillness reigned, as in the habitation of the dead. Never so well as now had she realized their complete isolation. Her heart sank. Even if a vessel passed, how could she hope that an islet as small as this would be noticed? A sailing-master would not think for a minute that it harbored survivors of a shipwreck. Their only chance of attracting attention was the signal-fire. "Thank God," she murmured, "that we had the means to light a fire. It has never been allowed to go out. Night and day it sends out its wireless message for aid!" She resumed her climb and presently reached the summit. Only another turn in the road and she would come in sight of the huge bonfire, blazing and crackling as it sent its message of distress far out to sea. Impatient to see it, she hastened her steps, almost running, in her anxiety to get there. Round the bend she went until, breathless, she emerged on the broad plateau. Suddenly she stopped and turned pale. Could she have mistaken the road? No, this was the place. But where was the signal-fire? The spot where it had burned night and day all these weeks was plainly visible. The grass and ground all around was charred and blackened by the flames, but of the fire itself nothing remained. Some giant strength had wreaked its fury upon it, scattered the glowing embers right and left, drowned it out with water. The signal-fire was extinguished! Pale and trembling, Grace stood rooted to the ground, trying to understand. Who had done this? Why had he done it? Of course, only one person could have done it. Was this the explanation of Armitage's long absence the previous night? Why had he scattered and drowned out their signal-fire? Her face flushed with anger. Her apprehension gave place to indignation. By what right had he presumed to take this step? If he were willing to sacrifice himself, what right had he to sacrifice her? Turning on her steps, she hastened down the hill and soon reached their encampment. He was there to greet her, standing with folded arms, silent, as if he knew where she had been and was awaiting the first outburst of her reproaches and anger. CHAPTER XVI. "The fire is out!" she cried, as she came within speaking distance. "I know," he answered stolidly. His face was expressionless, not a muscle moved. An observer might have mistaken him for a figure cast in bronze. "How did it go out?" demanded Grace, trying to control herself. Still he made no answer. "How did it go out?" she repeated. "Did you put it out?" Armitage nodded. Then, with a defiant toss of his head, he said: "Yes--I put it out." Grace stared at him in utter astonishment, scarcely able to believe her ears. She was so overwrought with indignation that everything seemed to swim before her eyes. She felt weak and faint. Fearing that she would fall, she leaned against a tree for support. "You put it out! You put it out!" she gasped. "Why--tell me why." He shrugged his shoulders, and for a moment made no answer. Then, with eyes averted from hers, he said in a low tone: "What's the use of letting it burn any longer? Nobody will see it if it burns till doomsday. It might burn on forever, till there was no more wood left on the island to feed it with, and still you'd be here eating your heart out waiting for help that would never come. It was labor thrown away." Unable to control herself any longer, Grace burst out passionately, almost hysterically. "So that is it? Because it was hard work, you sacrifice me! Because you prefer this idle, savage existence to the hard life you used to lead, you do not wish to get away. I must spend here my youth, the rest of my days because this sort of life pleases you. And you don't hesitate to destroy my only chance of relief because it suits you. How dare you! I thought you were a man. I was mistaken. A true man would not take advantage of a helpless woman's misfortune to further his own selfish interests. You are free to stay in this lonely spot if you choose, but I will not. I refuse to sacrifice myself. I will go away in spite of you. I don't know how, but I will find some way, and when I get back among my friends I shall tell them how a man treated a poor defenceless girl." He made a step toward her, as if about to say something, when she retreated and exclaimed: "Don't come near me!" she cried, almost hysterically. "I hate you. I won't let you address me again until that fire is lighted." She sank down on the stump of a tree and, burying her face in her hands, gave way, womanlike, to a torrent of tears. When the hysterical spell had passed, he was still standing humbly before her, looking down at her, with a sad, set expression on his face. "Won't you listen to me?" he said. "I won't listen to anything until you have lighted the fire once more," was her stubborn reply. Overhead the sun suddenly broke through the heavy gray clouds. The mists slowly lifted. Once more land and water were bathed in a flood of cheering sunshine. Grace's moods were mercurial. All that morning she had been particularly depressed because of the weather. As Nature put on a fairer garb, her spirits rose. She now felt sorry she had spoken so harshly to him. At least, she might have given him a chance to explain. "Won't you listen?" he asked again. He spoke pleadingly, without anger, the rich tones of his voice trembling with suppressed emotion. Standing bareheaded, the sun falling full on his tanned face and neck, he looked strikingly handsome. "Why did you extinguish the fire?" she demanded again in a low and more conciliatory tone. Leaning over toward her, he said: "Can't you guess the real reason?" "Because of the trouble--you said as much." He shook his head and there was a note of reproach in his voice as he replied: "You don't think that is the reason. You ought to know that I should consider no task too irksome if it would add to your happiness." He spoke so earnestly that Grace looked up at him in surprise. What did he mean? His eyes met hers without flinching. He was silent. She saw he wanted to say something and hesitated. She knew not why, but there was something disturbing in this man's silent, persistent gaze. "What is the real reason?" she murmured, at last. "Can't you guess?" he demanded hoarsely. "No," she replied, outwardly calm, but with misgivings within. "Because I love you!" he cried passionately. He sprang eagerly forward, as if about to take her in his arms. Grace, startled, fell back. "You love me?" she repeated mechanically. "Yes, I love you--I love you!" he repeated wildly. "Haven't you seen it, haven't you felt it all along?" The color fled from her cheeks. Her lips trembled. The crucial moment which she had dreaded had arrived at last. "If you love me," she said, with a forced smile, "you have a curious way of showing it. You know that all my hopes centered on that signal-fire, and yet wilfully, deliberately, you destroyed it. If you love me, why did you do that?" "Because," he said in a hoarse whisper, "I was afraid that some ship might see the blaze and come and take you away. I love you so much that I'd stop at nothing. You are the first woman I've ever loved. You don't know what that means to me. When a man of my age loves for the first time, the force of his passion frightens him. These last two days and nights I have purposely avoided you. I have tried to control and master myself. I have tried to forget you, to banish you from my thoughts. All last night I tramped through the woods, trying to persuade myself that it was an impossible dream, that such happiness could never befall such a poor devil as I. But I could not--I could not. In each tree I saw your dear face, in every sigh of the wind I heard the plaintive sounds of your sweet voice. Then, suddenly, I caught sight of the blaze on that hill. Instantly I felt it was my enemy. I knew that if a ship came I would lose you. I realized that it would mean the end of my happiness. Maddened by the thought, I was seized by a sudden fury. I ran all the way up to the top of the hill and trampled it out. Can't you understand that I don't want to lose you, that I don't want you to go?" Grace listened, her face flushed. When he ceased speaking, she said gently: "Any woman would feel pleased and honored at what you say. You have been very kind to me. I shall never forget what I owe you. I am deeply grateful. I shall always remember you." Hesitatingly she added: "It may be that you are right--that a ship will never come--what then? What do you want me to do?" "To--to be my wife!" he replied quickly and eagerly. Grace gasped. She was not without a sense of humor and the incongruity of the situation was at once apparent to her. Really he went too far. He was making her a serious proposal of marriage. This sailor, fireman, stoker, or whatever he might be, was actually asking the heiress to millions, one of the prizes of New York's matrimonial market--to be his wife! It was too absurd. Only the grave, pleading expression in Armitage's face deterred her from laughing outright. If any of her set in New York heard of it, they would chaff her without mercy. "How handsome he is!" she murmured to herself as she looked at him. "What a pity we are not social equals!" She was sorry for him, of course, but it would be kinder if she put him at once in his place and made him understand the hopelessness of his position. "Do you hear?" he said hoarsely, his voice quivering from suppressed emotion. "I want you--I want you to be my wife!" Grace drew herself up with the air of offended dignity of a queen hurt in her pride. Her gown was in tatters, her lovely hair hung loose over her snow-white shoulders. With her cheeks slightly flushed and her large dark eyes dilated and more lustrous from excitement, never had she appeared to him more beautiful or desirable. Like a trembling felon at the dock waiting to hear the judge pronounce his fate, Armitage waited for her answer. "Your wife?" she replied not unkindly. "Do you know what I am, do you realize what position I hold in society? Don't you know that my father is one of America's kings of finance, that his fortune is twenty millions, and that our winter and summer homes are among the show-places of Fifth Avenue and Newport? Don't you know that I spend $10,000 a year on my dress, that I have a dozen servants to run at my call, that my carriages, my horses, gowns and jewels furnish endless material for the society reporters of the yellow journals? Men have proposed to me--men of means, men of my own class. I refused them all because they hadn't money enough." With a scornful toss of her head, she added: "I despise a husband who looks to his wife for support." Armitage had listened patiently until now, but her last words aroused him. Suddenly interrupting her, he broke in: "You refused them not because they weren't rich enough, but because you didn't love them. You can't deceive me. I haven't watched and studied you all these weeks for nothing. You aren't as shallow and heartless as you pretend. You are too intelligent to find pleasure in Society's inane pastimes. You admitted to me yourself that something seemed lacking in your life. Shall I tell you what it is?" He advanced closer and, looking fixedly at her, went on: "I can read the secret in your beautiful eyes--the windows of your soul. Shall I tell you what your heart desires? You are love-hungry. Your whole being cries out for love. Not the infamous traffic in flesh and honor which receives the blessing of fashionable churches, but the pure, true, unselfish, ideal love that thrills a man and woman under God's free sky. What good are your father's millions here? What do I care about your houses, your gowns and your jewels? Here, stripped of everything but your own sweet lovable nature, you are only a woman--a woman I love and want to call mine own." His voice held her spellbound. The tone of authority in his words weakened her will-power. His ardent eyes, looking tenderly into hers, fascinated her. She felt that the odds were fearfully against her. It required all her moral strength to resist his pleading, yet there was nothing here to which she could cling. At home, in New York, she could take refuge behind a hundred excuses. The polite conventions of society would lend her support. But here alone on this lonely island with this man whom she knew in her heart she loved, this man who insisted on frank explanations, straightforward answers, the odds were fearfully against her. She felt herself weakening. "Please don't," she murmured confusedly. "It's utterly impossible. Don't you see how impossible it is--even if I did care for you? In a short time a ship will come. We shall be taken off. We shall go back to New York. Each of us will resume the old life, and this adventure will be only a memory." Armitage laughed cynically, and he made a gesture of impatience. His manner suddenly changed. He assumed the old tone of superiority which she had noticed when they first landed on the island. "Don't deceive yourself," he said abruptly. "Some day things must be understood as they are, and it might just as well be now." He stopped and looked at her strangely. "What do you mean?" demanded Grace uneasily. "I mean," he went on slowly, "that no ship will come. We shall never go back. The rest of our days must be spent here together." He spoke with such authority, such conviction, that Grace felt that he had good grounds for what he said. Her face paled and a feeling of faintness came over her. "How do you know?" she demanded, with tears in her eyes. "I've known it all along," he replied. "But didn't you say that whaling-vessels made these waters their fishing-grounds?" she persisted. "I lied," he answered frankly. "I was sorry for you, so I invented that fiction." "Then, the signal-fire was useless!" she cried, almost hysterical. He nodded. "Yes--utterly useless. I kept it up only to please you. There isn't one chance in a thousand of it ever being seen. You had to be told the truth some time." Grace stood listening to him, completely overwhelmed, as if in a trance. In these few brief moments he had destroyed every hope which she had nourished for weeks. All her watching and waiting and praying had been in vain. She was doomed to spend the rest of her days on this lonely island--with him! Her head seemed in a whirl. She felt dizzy and faint. Then she tried to collect her thoughts to reason it out, to picture the future. Suppose it was true, suppose they had to stay there together forever. How would it affect her? What would their life be as the years went on? They would gradually change their habits. The culture and careful training of her youth would soon be forgotten. Removed from the refining influence of civilization, she and Armitage would slowly degenerate, they would revert to the semi-savage condition of their prehistoric forbears. In time, the last remnant of their clothes would go, they would be obliged to make clothes of animals skins or of plantain leaves. They would cease cooking their food, finding greater relish in devouring it raw. Their hair would grow long and matted, their hands would look like claws. They might even lose the power of speech and if, in years to come, a ship chanced to touch at the island, they would find two gibbering human-like creatures who had forgotten who they were and where they came from. She gave a low moan of despair. Armitage approached her. She looked up at him appealingly: "Is there no hope at all?" He shook his head. "No--none." She covered her face with her hands. He could see that she was weeping. "Don't cry," he said gently. "It's no use fretting. We can't fight fate." Tenderly he added: "Do you understand now why I said I loved you? Do you think I would have dared if I thought we should ever get away? I told you because I knew we must spend our lives in lonely solitude, and I knew we could not go on living as we have been. I want you for my wife. You cannot object. The obstacles you mentioned no longer exist." Grace started to her feet. There was a note of defiance and alarm in her voice as she replied: "If I must stay here and die here, I will. God's will be done. But I will live as I think is right, as I would live anywhere else. Being here alone with you makes no difference." He folded his arms and looked at her boldly. "It does make a difference," he said slowly and firmly. "We are here--a man and a woman--alone on a desert island amid the eternal silence of the mighty ocean. There are only two of us. We are all the world to each other. Our future days must be spent together in the closest intimacy. We cannot go on living as though we were strangers. It isn't natural. You ought to be able to see that. The objections you mentioned would keep us apart under ordinary conditions, but here the conditions are altogether different. You are no longer the courted heiress, the society favorite. You are a woman and I am a man. The artificial conventions to which you cling have no place on this island. Here we are living amid primitive conditions. Nature gave woman to man--she was intended to be his mate, his companion. I assert my rights as the male." He spoke harshly, in a tone of command, as if he allowed her to have a say in the matter, but intended to have his way in the end, after all. Grace found herself listening passively. She wondered why she did not burst out with indignation when he thus disposed of her as if she were his goods, his chattel. Yet, secretly, it pleased her to have him assume this tone of ownership. The men in society who had fawned upon her were tame, weak, despicable creatures, ready to lick her hand for a smile. This was a real man. He gave her orders. He told her what he wished her to do, and he said she must do it. As she listened to his rich, musical voice she thought to herself that, after all, he was right. Sooner or later it must come to that. The years would pass. They would get old together. Would it not be more natural, would not their lives be happier if they mated and had children to be the joy of their reclining years? Armitage boldly took her hand. She did not resist. She had not the strength. This man had strangely paralyzed all her will-power. He drew her fiercely to his breast and whispered ardently: "I love you, Grace! I love you!" His warm breath was upon her cheek. She felt his strong body pressed close against hers. A sudden feeling of vertigo came over her. "I love you--I love you!" he repeated wildly, crushing her slender form in his powerful arms. She made no attempt to resist, but remained passive in his caress, as if a prisoner who knew there was no hope of escape. Yet there was no indication of anger on her face. Why shouldn't she love this man? If their lives were to be spent together, she must be his helpmate, his companion. Besides, she knew she was lying to herself. She did love him--with all her soul. This was the man she had been waiting for, the man who would have the courage to overcome her resistance, to take her fiercely in his arms and cry "I love you--I want you!" She closed her eyes, her head fell back. He leaned forward until his lips almost touched hers. Why did he hesitate? Why didn't he take the prize which was already his? He felt her warm body vibrating with the passion his ardor had awakened. "I love you--I love you!" he cried. "Grace, tell me--will you be mine?" Her eyes were closed. Her head, with its wealth of luxuriant hair all loose, fell back on his shoulder. Her face was upturned, her lips half parted. Trembling with emotion, he leaned forward. His mouth slowly approached hers for the kiss which was to seal their union, when suddenly he heard a shout. "Ahoy there! Ahoy there!" The sound of a human voice in that deserted spot was so utterly unexpected, so entirely unlooked for, that for a moment Armitage and Grace started back in alarm. Armitage thus rudely aroused out of his day-dreams, hurried forward to investigate. "Ahoy there! Ahoy there!" came the shout again. There was no mistake this time. Some one was calling, in English. Presently they saw half a dozen sailors clambering over the rocks and running toward them. They were Americans. Grace sank to her knees. "Thank God!" she murmured. "Rescued at last!" A boatswain and five sailors came up, looking with interest at Armitage and Grace. "Who are you?" cried out the boatswain, as they approached. Armitage went forward. "We were wrecked on the Blue Star Steamship _Atlanta_, which went down in a hurricane on those reefs about six weeks ago." "Passengers?" asked the boatswain. Armitage hesitated. Then, pointing to Grace, he said: "This lady was a cabin passenger." "And you?" demanded the man. "Stoker," replied Armitage grimly. The other sailors looked at each other and laughed. "We landed to get water," explained the boatswain, "and chanced to stumble across human foot-prints. Knowing the island was deserted, we decided to follow up the tracks. And here we are. I guess you're glad to see us." Armitage was silent. "Thank God!" murmured Grace. "Where is your ship? What is it?" "The _Saucy Polly_, of Boston, Mass., and as fine a whaler as you ever saw. We're anchored on the other side of the island. I guess that's why you didn't see us." "An American ship--God be praised," murmured Grace, clasping her hands. "Will you take us home?" "That we will, Miss. We couldn't leave you here." Overcome with emotion, Grace suddenly burst into tears. CHAPTER XVII. Fifth Avenue presented its customary animated and brilliant picture of refined cosmopolitan life. The sidewalks were crowded to the curb with stylishly dressed promenaders, the roadway blocked with smart automobiles and handsome equipages. The all New York of fashion and wealth was taking its afternoon sunning. For the foreigner making a study of our national manners, the Avenue's five-o'clock parade any fine afternoon during the season presents a scene as typically American as he may expect to find. Here in this one narrow, splendid thoroughfare, stretching in a noble line, as the crow flies, from Twenty-third Street away up to the Nineties, is concentrated the fabulous, incalculable wealth of the United States. Here, side by side, dwell the Rockefellers, the Carnegies, the Vanderbilts, the Astors, the Goulds, the Harrimans, the Morgans, the Whitneys, and other giants of finance, whose fortunes aggregate thousands of millions of dollars! Lined on either side of the street with the marble palaces of its multi-millionaires, its roadway jammed with carriages and automobiles kept in order by picturesque mounted police, its sidewalks thronged with pretty, stylish girls, and men and women famous in art, music, politics, science and literature--New York's most exclusive thoroughfare is perhaps the one place where the American plutocracy is on exhibition in all its aggressive opulence. The show street of New York, it is not laid with rails for electric cars like other thoroughfares of the metropolis. Wagons and trucks not having special business there are forbidden to traverse it. The poor man understands that it is the exclusive domain of the very rich, that he has no place there, and that if he appears on its sacred pavements he is apt to be looked upon as an audacious intruder. Armitage rested from his work and looked around him, dazed by the bustle and noise. The gay, busy city was such a contrast with the quiet, peaceful life he had led for the past few months that the sudden change was startling. It had all the attraction of novelty. The afternoon parade was at its height, and he was interested watching the promenaders. Never had he seen so many pretty girls. There were styles of beauty to suit every taste--blondes and brunettes. Tall, graceful, aristocratic girls; short, plump, vivacious girls. Some had the grace of stately lilies, others the charm and fragrance of the full-blown rose. Each rivaled the other in chic of costume, all were merry and full of the exuberance of youth. They passed in twos and threes and as Armitage watched them, he wondered where his girl was--the one girl in the world! He knew that she was in New York, and he also knew where her home was on Fifth Avenue. Perhaps if he stayed there long enough, he would see her go by. He had not heard from Grace since they landed in Boston. He reviewed in his mind all that had occurred since the wreck of the _Atlanta_, that ever-memorable night when, swimming for his life in the raging seas, he had felt her limp body lying heavily on his left arm. Then came their long sojourn together on Hope Island, a blissful dream rudely interrupted by the untimely arrival of the _Saucy Polly_. Then their return to America. Even on the voyage home they were no longer the same to each other. In her new clothes, borrowed from the stewardess, she looked quite different. He thought he detected more reserve in her manner toward him. Then, when they arrived in Boston, her father was waiting for her, and they left at once for New York--on a special train. He couldn't follow. He had no money and refused to accept any from Mr. Harmon. He felt amply rewarded for all he had done when Grace smiled kindly at him as she shook hands and said good-by. When they had gone he tried to find work. For some days he was unsuccessful. Times were hard. Instead of employing new men, old hands were everywhere being discharged by the hundreds. At first he thought of taking to his old occupation, the sea, but he thought better of it. He had had enough of seafaring to last him some time. Then, desperate, he tried to get anything. Men with nerve were needed in the iron construction work of a lofty sky-scraper. He didn't know much about the business, but he did not mind the danger, and he was soon high in the air, astride a swinging iron beam, riveting bolts at a dizzy height and with such frail support that the people in the street below turned pale for fear he would fall. What did he care if a girder fell and he was dashed to pieces below? He laughed at danger, and performed feats that made his fellow workmen gasp. This earned him good pay, and soon he had saved enough to come to New York. Why had he come to New York? Why had he given up good wages to come here without the certainty of finding work? Only one thing had attracted him here--the same reason that attracts the moth to the flame. He knew it was hopeless, but he could not resist the temptation of coming to the same city where she was, breathing the same air she breathed and secretly, at night, coming up to Fifth Avenue and standing for hours, watching her windows until he was ordered to move on by a suspicious policeman. Luckily he had found employment--the same kind of work that he had done successfully in Boston. A sky-scraper was being erected on the corner of Fifth Avenue and Forty-second Street, and he was sent to rivet the iron beams. That was how he came to be there that sunny afternoon. Curiously, he eyed the fashionably dressed promenaders as they passed by, chatting and laughing in polite conversation. There was no hostility in his attitude as he watched them. That feeling had died away. These men and women with their fine clothes and polished manners appeared to him to-day in a different light. There was a time when he would have cursed them as they haughtily brushed past him, but now the old animosity had died away. The class hatred which he had nourished so long in his heart had undergone a change. These were her people, perhaps they were her friends. Wistfully, he looked after them, wishing he could summon up courage to boldly approach some one and ask how Grace was. Eagerly he scanned the brilliant throng, hoping each instant to catch sight of her in the crowd, but he watched in vain. The beloved figure he would have recognized a mile away did not appear. Disappointed, he turned once more to his task. It was already half-past four. In thirty minutes more the whistle would blow. The men would quit work and he would trudge over to the cheaper East Side, where he lived. He had picked up his sledge-hammer and was about to resume work when he happened to look up the Avenue. There she was at last, close at hand, coming toward him. Involuntarily, he stepped back, and the heavy hammer fell from his nerveless grasp. Grace went by, dainty and _chic_, the cynosure of every eye on the Avenue. Men turned after her as she passed. Women stopped and pointed. But, unconscious of, or indifferent to, the admiration she excited, Miss Harmon continued on her way home. Armitage gazed after her, as if petrified. His first impulse was to cry out, to run after her, to attract her attention. He stumbled forward and then stopped. What right had he to accost her? She might resent it as an unwarrantable impertinence. It would humiliate and embarrass her to be addressed amid that fashionable throng by a common workman. It was enough that he had seen her--from a distance. That was all the happiness he could reasonably expect. By the time he had reasoned with himself, Grace was out of sight. That evening when Armitage reached his lodgings he found awaiting him a letter bearing the Boston postmark. Opening it, he saw it contained another letter addressed to him and forwarded in care of the Boston office of the owners of the _Saucy Polly_. Tearing open the envelope, he read as follows: "-- FIFTH AVENUE. "DEAR MR. ARMITAGE: If you happen to be in New York, I should be glad if you could find it convenient to call at the above address. "Yours faithfully, "JOHN HARMON." CHAPTER XVIII. The town house of John Harmon was conspicuous for its size and beauty even on an avenue famous for its magnificent residences. With a frontage of a hundred feet facing Central Park, it was constructed entirely of French gray stone, Renaissance style, with turrets, gables, oriel windows, elaborately carved stone loggias and balconies, tiled roofs and all the other architectural ornamentation of that picturesque period. Set back some distance from the road, it was surrounded by tastefully laid-out grounds, with a handsome portico decorated by elaborate stone carvings, and a driveway bordered with flower-beds, entrance to which was made through ornamental gates of massive bronze. Beautiful from the exterior as was this railroad king's home, within it was furnished with the lavish grandeur of a royal palace. All Europe had been ransacked to fill it with beautiful and costly art treasures. At the back of the large entrance-hall, with its magnificent frescoed ceilings, its satin hangings, marble pillars and stained-glass windows, was a monumental staircase of pure Italian marble and graceful design which led to the reception-room and other apartments above. The stairway was artistically decorated with marble statuary, trophies of arms and priceless tapestries. On the second floor were the famous art-galleries hung with paintings by the ancient and modern masters. It was only on extraordinary occasions that visitors were afforded an opportunity to see all the art treasures which the house contained. For the greater part of the year the pictures were not on view. To-day, however, was one of the rare exceptions. Mr. Harmon had thrown open his entire house in honor of the special event which he was celebrating. Outside the house, on Fifth Avenue, a crowd of people stood watching the long string of carriages, automobiles and taxi-cabs in line before the gate. The day, although fine, was cold and windy and an awning had been stretched from the portico to the curb to protect the guests from the weather. The crowd of curious sightseers grew larger as each moment other cabs and automobiles dashed up. A mounted policeman prevented the spectators from pressing too close and kept the way open for regular traffic, while Mr. Harmon's servants in powdered hair and knee-breeches received each newcomer. "Gee! Get on to 'em guys wid der white wigs!" cried out a cheeky boy. "What's all the fuss about?" inquired a bystander. "Blessed if I know," replied the man curtly. A well-dressed woman stopped and watched the scene with interest. "Whose house is that?" she inquired of a policeman. "John Harmon's, m'm," replied the officer of the law. "The railroad man?" she asked, with growing interest. "Yes," answered her informant. "Mr. Harmon's daughter was wrecked on the _Atlanta_, you know. She was reported drowned. Then they found her on a desert island. She's home to-day and they're giving a reception to all their friends in honor of her return." In the splendid reception-room facing the Avenue rich with its gold and crimson furnishings, delicately frescoed ceilings, satin brocade hangings, priceless rugs, onyx tables and heavy red carpet, Grace was the center of an excited throng of women. Each fresh arrival literally fought her way through the crowd to get a glimpse of the heroine of the hour. There were murmurs of surprise and admiration on all sides as they caught sight of her. They expected to see Grace a physical wreck after all the suffering she had gone through during her enforced imprisonment on the desert island. Some had gone so far as to whisper that the young heiress would never recover from the effects of the nervous shock. Such a terrible experience, they said, was more than sufficient to kill a strong woman. What effect, therefore, must it have had on the delicate Miss Harmon, whose health already gave cause for alarm before she went on that fatal voyage? When the invited guests entered the reception-room and saw Grace beaming and smiling in the center of a circle of enthusiastic friends they could scarcely believe their eyes. To their utter astonishment she was precisely the opposite of what they had imagined. Instead of the frail, languid girl to whom they had said good-by when the _Atlanta_ sailed from New York some six months before, she was the picture of good health, in as perfect physical condition as she had ever been in her life. Her face was tanned from long exposure to the sun, but the deeper color only heightened the rich effects of her beauty. It became her dark hair and her splendid eyes. She was a little stouter, but her fuller figure only set off to better advantage a new gown of clinging silver cloth, trimmed with rare lace. She looked radiant. Whispered murmurs of admiration were heard in all parts of the room. The women raved about her figure, her coloring and her hair, and the men fell over each other in their eagerness to attract her attention. The reception-rooms were already crowded and new arrivals were coming in constantly. Somebody said that Prince Sergius of Eurasia was present, and there was a general craning of necks to get a glimpse of royalty. A woman whispered confidentially to a friend that his royal highness had been a constant caller since Miss Harmon's return and that there were good grounds for believing that they were engaged. In a few minutes the friend had spread the information all over the room that the engagement was official and would immediately be made public. Supremely unconscious of the gossip of which she was the envied object, Grace stood in a corner of the room surrounded by Mrs. Wesley Stuart, Professor Hanson, Mrs. Phelps, and the Hon. Percy Fitzhugh. All fellow survivors of the wreck of the _Atlanta_, they made an interesting little group by themselves as they stood comparing notes and describing their adventures, while Mr. and Mrs. Harmon, scarcely able yet to believe the good news that their darling child had returned from the dead, went from one to another telling the wonderful story of her life on a desert island. For the hundredth time Grace told and retold the story of the wreck--how she fell into the water from the overturned life-boat, and after swimming some distance, was fast becoming exhausted when suddenly one of the crew seized her and dragged her ashore. She told of her horrible adventure with the cobra and narrated in detail all the other incidents of her sojourn on the desert island up to the time that she was rescued by the _Saucy Polly_. Mrs. Stuart explained how she and Professor Hanson, together with Mr. Fitzhugh got away in one of the life-boats. Mrs. Phelps and Count von Hatzfeldt were also saved, but poor Captain Summers was drowned, a martyr to duty. He refused to leave the bridge and went down with his ship, keeping the whistle blowing as the vessel sank out of sight beneath the waves. After rowing all night they were picked up the following day by a P. and O. steamer bound from Calcutta to Southampton. They naturally supposed Grace was among the drowned, and, on arriving in England, gave her name among the others to the correspondents, who cabled the sensational news to New York. Mrs. Stuart threw her arms around Grace's neck and kissed her effusively. "Oh, my poor, dear girl," she cried. "If you only knew what mental agonies I've suffered! I thought that I should never see you again. I blamed myself for having suggested the voyage. I held myself responsible. I did not dare look your poor father in the face. Your mental suffering must have been terrible, to say nothing of the dangers you were subjected to. How terrified you must have been to be all alone with that dreadful stoker! You should thank heaven he did you no violence. A man of that character is capable of anything--especially when alone with a defenceless woman." Grace smiled faintly. A thoughtful expression came into her face. She made no answer, and Mrs. Stuart repeated her question: "Weren't you afraid of him?" Aroused from her reverie, Grace answered: "No, not at all, we got along capitally. You know, dear," she went on, "the devil is never as black as he is painted. When people don't get along together, it is very often because they don't understand each other." Mrs. Stuart looked at her former _protégée_ with blank astonishment. "So this stoker fellow--you think you understand him? Did you actually take the trouble to understand him?" She looked closely at Grace, a searching look that made the latter's cheeks redden. "Perhaps," went on Mrs. Stuart, with a knowing smile, "you both came to a perfect understanding--some foolish romance which you'd blush now to acknowledge." "Don't be silly, Cora," answered Grace quickly. "You know he saved my life twice. The least I could do was to be civil to him." "Where is he now?" demanded Mrs. Stuart. "I haven't the slightest idea," replied Grace. "He returned to America, of course, on the _Saucy Polly_, and when the ship arrived at Boston my father was there to meet me. When I had said what he had done for me, father was anxious to repay him, but he refused to take anything and mysteriously disappeared. I have not seen him since, but we are trying to trace him. Father has written to the owner of the _Saucy Polly_, whom, we think, knows his whereabouts." "Perfectly delicious!" exclaimed Mrs. Stuart sarcastically. "Your father can offer him a position as coachman, footman or butler. No doubt he's dead in love with you! The romance wouldn't be complete unless you eloped with him!" Grace was silent. Her friend's cynicism grated on her. She turned her head away afraid that the expression on her face might betray her. How often she thought words uttered in jest hit upon the truth! She did not tell Mrs. Stuart that she was just as anxious to have news of Armitage as was her father. Strangely enough, her return home, which she thought would fill her with joy, had failed to give her all the happiness she expected. Once more she was enjoying the social prestige, all the luxuries that her father's position and money secured for her, yet there were moments when she missed those days on Hope Island when her greatest ambition was to prepare a satisfactory meal for her companion's return. She wondered if she would ever see him again. She knew why he had disappeared. He understood that there could never be anything between them. They belonged to different worlds. She had returned to hers; he to his. She would not have expected anything else of him. She would have been disappointed in him if he had done anything else. He was not the kind of man to come round, hat in hand, and ask payment for his services. No matter how poor he might be, he was too proud for that, and secretly in her heart she rejoiced to think that the man she cared for was of that stamp. Of course, their little love-affair was a thing of the past. When she thought of it she felt inclined to laugh, it was so preposterously out of keeping with her social position. Probably she would never see him again. She would try not to, because, secretly, she was afraid of herself. She was afraid that if she saw him again and heard his voice, if ever again he spoke to her as he had on that island, she would be tempted to throw herself into his arms, no matter what her position or how it might wreck her future. She remembered the story Professor Hanson had told her of a girl of good family marrying an Indian. She recalled the stories she had seen in the papers of rich girls running away with their coachmen. She could understand those things now. There was something in these men, some strange magnetic power, that made girls love them for themselves, regardless of the disastrous consequences. Mr. Harmon was listening with rapture to the flattering comments on all sides, on his daughter's improved appearance, when suddenly the English butler approached him and said quietly: "May I speak to you a minute, Sir?" "Yes, Hawkins, what is it?" answered Mr. Harmon impatiently. "There's some one down-stairs to see you, Sir." "Some one to see me?" echoed Mr. Harmon. "Go and tell him to come up--like all the rest." The butler did not budge. He had been in service boy and man for over forty years, and he thought he knew what kind of people were privileged to enter his master's home as guests. "Didn't you hear me?" repeated Mr. Harmon. "Go and tell him to come up." "Excuse me, Sir--it is not a visitor, Sir. It's a person who tried to come in the front way, shovin' and elbowin' 'is way in along with the guests as if 'ee was a regular caller, sir. The policeman collared 'im, thinkin' 'ee was up to no good. You can never tell, sir. Sometimes they're arter the coats and umbrellas, sir. But the feller said you 'ad written him, sir, to come 'ere. So the policeman let 'im go. But we wouldn't let him come in the front way, Sir. We hustled 'im in through the tradesmen's entrance, and 'ee's down-stairs now. James is lookin' arter the silver, Sir, so there ain't no danger, there, Sir." "What's that?" exclaimed Mr. Harmon. "A person of that description says that I wrote him to come here. He must be an impostor. Throw him out--have him arrested." The butler gave a grin of self-satisfaction. Rubbing his hands, he said: "That's wot I thought, Sir. Leave 'im to me, Sir. We'll take care of 'im, Sir." He was about to retire when Mr. Harmon suddenly had an idea. "Can it possibly be----" he muttered to himself. "It must be he." Turning to the butler he went on: "Here, Hawkins, don't say a word to any one--particularly not to my daughter. Take the man to my library. I'll be down at once." Astonished, and also hurt, that his employer should have acquaintances whose appearance necessitated their being ushered in through the tradesman's entrance, the butler withdrew. After greeting a few more arrivals and responding to a toast to his daughter in a glass of champagne, at the buffet-table besieged by a hungry and noisy crowd, Mr. Harmon slipped away unobserved and made his way to the library. CHAPTER XIX. As Mr. Harmon entered the room, he saw a man, tall, square-shouldered, roughly dressed, standing with his back to the door. The stranger was so busy in admiring contemplation of a fine full-length oil-painting of the railroad magnate's daughter which adorned the mantelpiece that he did not hear any one enter. Mr. Harmon coughed, and the man turned quickly. It was Armitage. The light in the room was not good, and for a moment Mr. Harmon could not distinguish his caller's features. At first he was in doubt as to his identity. "You wished to see me, Sir," he began. "You are Mr.--Mr.----?" "Jack Armitage is my name," the other replied carelessly. Quickly he added: "I did not seek this interview, Mr. Harmon. You wrote asking me to call." Mr. Harmon advanced cordially and extended his hand. "To be sure--to be sure. Sit down, Mr. Armitage. You happen to have called on a very busy day. We're having some friends to see us." Despite his efforts to appear cordial, there was a certain embarrassment in the magnate's manner which his visitor was not slow to observe. "So I noticed," he replied dryly. "The policeman outside didn't size me up as being a friend of yours, so he promptly ran me in. I insisted that you had asked me to call and he let me go. Then your cockney butler took me for a suspicious character, and after letting me enter, under protest, through the tradesmen's entrance, he set the footman to watch me while he went to find you up-stairs." Mr. Harmon laughed. "Servants judge only by appearances," he said. "If you'd driven up in a carriage and pair, they'd have received you with every mark of honor. I'm sorry if they hurt your feelings." Armitage shrugged his shoulders and gave a little bitter laugh. "What do I care for such jackals? I'm accustomed to that kind of thing. Well, I won't keep you, Mr. Harmon. You asked me to call. What can I do for you?" The railroad man was taken aback. Yet he liked the man's independent spirit. Hastily he said: "You mean what can I do for you. I sent for you because we could not allow you to go away like that. Do you suppose that I, John Harmon, would permit the man who saved my daughter to go unrewarded?" Armitage shook his head. "I want nothing," he said curtly. "You want nothing?" echoed Mr. Harmon in surprise, looking his caller up and down from head to foot. "Are your circumstances such that you are in need of nothing?" Armitage laughed bitterly. "I need so much that I need nothing. It sounds like a paradox, but it's the truth." Mr. Harmon looked at him in surprise. "You weren't always so low down in the world?" Armitage made no reply. "You're an educated man. That I can tell from your speech. Some misfortune--some folly has brought you where you are." Armitage gave an impatient gesture and, moving toward the door, said: "I didn't come here to discuss my affairs, Mr. Harmon. You sent for me. I thought you needed me. Good afternoon." Mr. Harmon intercepted him. "Wait a minute, young man. Don't be so hasty. I meant no offence. Don't you see that I am interested in you? I want to help you." "I ask help of no one," replied Armitage doggedly. "Twice you saved my daughter's life. She and I can never forget what we owe you. She wants to thank you herself again. She could not understand your disappearance and silence. Why did you not come?" Armitage was silent a moment, and then he said: "What was the use? I don't belong here. I didn't wish to embarrass you. Can't you see that? I saw Miss Harmon the other day. She was walking on Fifth Avenue. She didn't see me. Why should she? I was working on a job close by. She happened to pass just as I was about to quit work. I looked at her, but she didn't see me. Even if she did, she wouldn't want to recognize me in these togs. I know that. I don't blame her." "You don't know my daughter," exclaimed Mr. Harmon enthusiastically. "She is the last girl in the world to act like that. If she had seen you, she would have been the first to extend her hand. I'm a self-made man myself," he added proudly. "There's nothing snobbish about me, and I hope there isn't about my daughter. You'll come up-stairs with me now and be introduced to everybody as the man who saved her." Armitage shook his head. "No--it isn't you--it's the world. It's not ourselves--it's because we're afraid of what the world, our neighbors, will think. No, I wouldn't embarrass your daughter. Besides, I've no wish to be put on exhibition." Mr. Harmon, puzzled, scratched his head. "Well, what can we do to show our gratitude? Let me give you a little present." He took out his check-book, and, sitting down, wrote an order to bearer for $10,000. "Here, Mr. Armitage. This is far cheaper than I value my daughter. But it will make life easy for you. You can start some business--be practically independent for life. Here, my boy, take it with a father's gratitude." He passed the check over to Armitage, who looked at it a moment. A smile passed over his face and slowly, deliberately, he tore it into tiny pieces. "What are you doing?" cried Mr. Harmon. "I can't take your money for taking care of her, Mr. Harmon. I should forever despise myself if I did. It would be bad luck to me." "Well, what can I do for you? I can't let you go like that!" Armitage remained silent. Then, turning suddenly, he said: "There's only one thing I could accept from you, Mr. Harmon." "What is that?" demanded the railroad magnate eagerly. "Something that even you, rich as you are, cannot give me. You wouldn't give it me if you could. Good day, Mr. Harmon." Armitage went out and, as he passed the astonished financier, he gave a last lingering look at the oil portrait which filled the space over the mantel. CHAPTER XX. In a cheap, grimy-looking hash-house on Third Avenue Armitage sat alone at a table, partaking with apparent relish of the rough yet not unwholesome fare which his slender purse could afford to pay for. The hour being late, he had exclusively to himself the services of the one greasy and cadaverous waiter, while the proprietor of the restaurant, if the "joint" might be dignified by so respectable a name, sat behind his rostrum near the window, sulkily reckoning up the day's receipts. Through the open door came all the distressing sounds and smells that make this particular thoroughfare the noisiest and most objectionable of the city's main arteries. Overhead the elevated trains crashed with deafening noise, push-cart vendors shouted their wares, Italian organ-grinders played discordant tunes, smudged-faced, tattered children romped in the unclean gutters, slovenly housewives quarreled with cranky janitors, a drunkard staggered in bestial condition from a corner saloon, roughly moved on by a uniformed bully with swinging club; sinister figures of men and women, human derelicts, crouched in doorways, pavements and sidewalks were filthy with torn paper and decaying fruit, tattered washing hanging from broken-down fire-escapes--everything that is degraded and sordid was centered here right in the heart of the richest and most modern city in the world. But Armitage was too busily preoccupied to be disturbed by his squalid surroundings. His appetite was keen, thanks to a day's hard work, and, while he devoured with amazing celerity the contents of his heaped-up plate, he stopped every now and then to read with closer attention the newspaper which was propped up before him. It was a torn copy of that morning's _Tribune_, and the part which interested him was an account on the society page of the big reception which had taken place at the residence of Mr. John Harmon on the previous day. It being a social event of some importance, two columns were devoted to it, the writer explaining the special occasion which it was intended to celebrate, and retelling in vivid detail the story of the _Atlanta_'s ill-fated voyage. Armitage smiled as he read the account, sensationally exaggerated, of the beautiful young heiress' hairbreadth escapes from angry ocean and venomous serpent and all the other terrors of a desert island in company with a common sailor, who, when the rescue-party safely reached America, strangely disappeared despite the grateful railroad man's tireless efforts to discover his whereabouts and reward him. Then the article went on to tell of Miss Harmon's improved appearance, the delight of her friends, and to describe the wonderful gowns worn by the fashionable women who had thronged to welcome her home. He was reading the article in a careless, amused kind of way when suddenly he came to a paragraph which made him sit up with a start. It read as follows: "But perhaps the chief interest of the afternoon, apart from the charming young heroine, centred in a distinguished guest, Prince Sergius of Eurasia. His Royal Highness has been a frequent caller at the Harmon residence ever since Miss Harmon's return, and, as usual, gossip has been busy trying to find some plausible explanation of this growing intimacy between the heir presumptive to a European throne, and the family of an American railroad king. It is whispered that Miss Harmon, whose marriage has been the topic of the last two seasons, is not indifferent to the Prince, and that if the consent of the King can be obtained, the engagement of the young couple will be shortly announced." A lump rose in Armitage's throat. Calling for a cup of coffee, he lit his pipe and took up the paper again. After all, he thought philosophically, why should he care? The girl was lost to him, that was certain. He would never see her again. She was a bit of sunshine that had suddenly burst into his dark, unhappy life; and suddenly gone again, leaving the outlook blacker than ever. He knew it was hopeless. He loved her, would always love her. Time would make no difference. She would marry her prince and have long forgotten her adventure on the island, and still he, knocking alone about the world, would cherish her memory in his heart. He did not blame her. It was different in her case. On the island, alone with him, she might in time have learned to care for him. They might have been happy together, far happier than she would ever be in her Eurasian palace. But when the spell was once broken, when she returned to New York and was once more absorbed in her fashionable life, it was only natural that she should speedily forget him. He threw the newspaper down and, having settled his bill, was about to rise and leave, when suddenly his eye was arrested by an advertisement he saw in the paper which he had just put aside. Picking it up again, he read as follows: ARMITAGE: If John Armitage, second son of Sir William Armitage, of Alnwick Towers, Bucks, England, will communicate at once with the undersigned he will learn something to his advantage. Coxe and Willoughby, attorneys, 27 Broad Street, N. Y. City. His heart beating furiously, he read the advertisement over and over. John Armitage, second son of Sir William Armitage of Alnwick Towers, Bucks, England--what a familiar sound that had! Many long weary years had gone by since he had seen those names in print. What could have happened! Why should they want to communicate with him--the scapegrace of the family? He turned pale. Could his father be dead--the father who had cursed him and forbade him ever to appear before him again? Even if he were dead they would not send for him. His elder brother would succeed to the title and estates. Letting the paper drop out of his hands, he rose and, leaving the place, walked along Third Avenue as if in a dream. Coxe and Willoughby, 27 Broad Street! Well, there was no harm in calling on them to see what they wanted. Their offices would be closed now, but he would go first thing in the morning. The dull roar of the city's tremendous traffic, the clanging of car-gongs, the hoarse cries of news vendors greeted him as he stemmed the tide of pushing humanity, men and women toilers--the day's work ended--all hurrying to trains and ferries. A wagon driven at reckless speed round a corner nearly knocked him down as he crossed a street. A fellow workman loafing at the entrance to a saloon jocularly invited him to enter and take a drink. But he paid no heed. He strode along, walking as on air, his thoughts far away. The advertisement he had just read had taken him back fifteen years. He saw himself in England, just graduated from College, receiving the congratulations of his friends. He remembered his father's pride in his success and his kindly admonition to continue as he had begun, so that one day he might add even more distinction to the honorable name he bore. How had he followed that sage advice? No sooner released from the restraint of the University than he plunged into every form of dissipation, sowing his wild oats recklessly, blindly, utterly indifferent to the deadly crop they might one day yield. The corrupt, gay city beckoned to him, and he could not resist its pleasure-call. He scattered gold right and left on race-tracks, at cards, on women. A small inheritance turned over at his majority went speedily the way of all the rest, and then he went to the money-lenders to pay for further extravagances, incurring obligations he could not meet. Sir William, sorely disappointed, came to the rescue again and again, and, extracting a promise of reformation, made him enter Woolwich to try for a commission in the Army. Plucked at every examination, he was quickly discouraged, returned to his fast companions and gradually drifted into the aimless, loose way of living of the idle man-about-town. Debts accumulated, the creditors dunned and dogged his footsteps until life became unbearable. His father, incensed beyond hope of pardon, turned a deaf ear to further appeals, and finally cut off his allowance altogether, hoping to teach him a lesson. Soon his clothes got shabby, he was forced into cheap lodgings, his fair-weather friends forgot to bow to him. That was the beginning of the end. He drifted lower and lower until he was forced to go to work or starve. He knew no trade. He was obliged to accept what he could get. He turned his hand to anything, often making barely enough to secure himself a night's lodging. Finally, when things seemed at their darkest, he heard there was a demand for stokers on the Blue Star Line. What he had suffered down there in that hell's furnace no man knew! The poor devils who had to do the work never survived to tell of their devilish toil. If these millionaires who liked to travel in fast ships knew the physical agony the vessel's speed cost a human being, they would refuse to patronize them. Thank God those days were over! No matter what happened, he would never go back to the stoke-hold. That night as he lay on his cot in his Bowery lodging-house he tossed uneasily, unable to sleep, wondering what Coxe & Willoughby, Attorneys, of 27 Broad Street, wanted with him. CHAPTER XXI. Broad Street, just before the stock-market begins its daily orgy of frenzied finance, is perhaps the most orderly and imposing of any of the splendid thoroughfares in New York's commercial center. Strange to say, it also fits its name, having almost three times the width of any other street in the down-town district. From the Wall Street end where the Sub-Treasury faces the old-fashioned premises of J. Pierpont Morgan & Co.'s banking-house, Broad Street sweeps round in a noble curve, lined on either side with stately office-buildings, rivaling each other in beauty of architectural design. The imposing building opposite ornamented with bas reliefs and noble marble columns is the Stock Exchange, where the unsophisticated lamb is ruthlessly sheared by bull and bear, and farther on, without other roof than the blue vault of heaven, are the noisy curb brokers, so called because, having no building of their own in which to transact their business, they are permitted by time-honored custom to trade in a roped-off enclosure in the middle of the street. It was absolutely terra incognita to Armitage, and he gazed open-eyed around him like any country yokel seeing the sights of the city for the first time. Suddenly he saw a crowd of men engaged in what seemed to be a desperate struggle in the middle of the road. They were grappling with each other, brandishing their arms and fists, yelling like Indians. It looked like a riot of serious proportions, and he wondered why the policeman who stood close by calmly looking on viewed it with such unconcern. "What's the matter?" he queried of a passer-by. "Matter--where?" asked the stranger, looking in all directions. "Don't you see those men fighting?" said Armitage. The stranger grinned. "Say, you're from Jersey, ain't you? That's no fight. They're curb brokers trying to unload on each other their mining stocks." Armitage felt foolish. To hide his confusion he asked: "Can you direct me to the offices of Coxe and Willoughby, the attorneys? I'm a stranger here." The man pointed a little farther up the street. "See that tall building on the left? That's it." Thanking his informant Armitage hurried on, and, going up the stone steps of No. 27, passed through a revolving door kept whirling by an endless procession of brokers, clerks and messenger-boys who hurried in and out. Following a long corridor, he came to a large open space completely lined with elevators. Some were expresses which made no stop below the 25th floor; the rest were locals stopping at each story, on request. "Coxe and Willoughby?" he said interrogatively to the uniformed starter. "Twenty-seventh floor. Take the express," was the quick reply. Armitage entered the waiting car. Other persons followed him in, and it was comfortably filled when the starter cried sharply: "Right!" Instantly the attendant closed the gates and touched a lever. Armitage felt his stomach leap into his throat. They were flying upward at a speed of fifty miles an hour, and before he had time to gasp, the car had reached the first stop, nearly 300 feet up in the air. Two stories more and he had reached the floor he wanted. "Along the corridor to your left, first door to the right," shouted the elevator man. Armitage followed the handsome corridor with its marble walls, inlaid floors and hard-wood finishing until he came to a glass door on which was inscribed in bold black letters: COXE AND WILLOUGHBY Counsellors at law He opened the door, and found himself in an outer office in which behind a rail were two foppish-looking clerks seated at desks. Neither of them made an attempt to move when Armitage entered, but continued their animated discussion of a game of baseball they had witnessed the previous day. Armitage hit the rail lightly with his hand to attract their attention, and finally one of the clerks condescended to get up and come and ask what the caller wanted. "I wish to see a member of the firm," said Armitage. The clerk looked him over from head to toe. He had been trained to judge people by their clothes, and there was something unconventional about Armitage's attire that appealed to his sense of humor. He turned to his fellow clerk and gave him the wink, whereupon the other laughed. "In relation to what?" he demanded, wondering what possible business this ordinary workingman could have with his employer. Armitage was puzzled for a moment as to how he should announce himself. Then an idea occurred to him. Taking from his pocket the advertisement which he had clipped from the paper the night before, he handed it to the clerk, saying: "Say that a gentleman has called in answer to this advertisement." "A 'gentleman,' did you say?" demanded the clerk insolently. He looked first at the advertisement and then at Armitage. A look of blank astonishment which came over his face was succeeded by one of utter incredulity. Leaving the rail, he went over to his fellow clerk and whispered something to him, and they both snickered. Armitage tried to be patient, but he was fast losing his temper. He did not like the clerk's supercilious manner. In another minute he would vault over that rail, and some one's head would get punched. Finally he said impatiently: "Are you going to take that in to a member of the firm or must I do it myself?" The clerk looked up, and he was about to make some impertinent retort when he suddenly thought better of it. There was a look in Armitage's eye that he did not like. Crossing the office, he disappeared through a glass door. A moment later he reappeared and, unfastening the rail gate, said in more respectful tones: "Mr. Willoughby will see you at once, sir." He ushered him into a spacious, well-lighted and handsomely furnished room. An elderly man of legal appearance was writing at a table littered with documents. He rose as Armitage entered, and courteously waved him to a chair. In his hand he held the advertisement, and while he twisted it nervously in his fingers he scrutinized his caller closely through his glasses. "You wish to see me, Sir. What can I do for you?" he began. "No," replied Armitage quickly. "You wished to see me. I came in answer to that advertisement." The lawyer came nearer, and his scrutiny became keener. "Oh, yes--I see. May I ask in what way this advertisement interests you?" "Only that I'm John Armitage--that's all." Mr. Willoughby started, and, taking out his handkerchief nervously, wiped his face. As much as any lawyer allows himself to show emotion, he betrayed surprise. He came still closer and, peering into his visitor's face, said: "You? _You_ are John Armitage?" He looked at his visitor's dress, noticed his clumsy thick-soled boots, soiled jacket and trousers, and he shook his head incredulously. "The world's full of impostors," he muttered to himself, "but we lawyers are too much for them." Aloud he repeated: "_You_ are John Armitage?" "Yes--I am John Armitage, formerly of Alnwick Tower, Bucks, England." Hurrying back to his desk, the old lawyer opened a drawer and took from it a faded photograph. Holding it so that Armitage could not see it, he stood comparing the portrait with the living man before him. "Same face!" he murmured. "Older--more serious expression, but same shaped head--same features." Aloud he added: "If, as you say, you are John Armitage, you have, of course, some way of identifying yourself. You see we have to be very careful." Armitage laughed. "I don't happen to have a passport," he said. "When I left England some fifteen years ago I didn't think I'd require one. But I've a mark on my left arm, a rough tattooing of the Armitage crest, which I did in my foolish boyhood days. And I have some letters which my mother wrote me after I left home. Those I've treasured. I let everything else go, but her letters I kept." Placing his hand over his heart, he added: "They're here." As Mr. Willoughby grew more and more interested he became more and more nervous. "Let me see them," he said impatiently. Armitage opened his vest and drawing forth a small package of yellow-stained letters tied with a bit of ribbon, he handed them over. "I guess we have no secrets from you," he said. "You may read them." Mr. Willoughby untied the package, opened a letter and glanced hurriedly at the handwriting and signature. Then he handed them back. "That's enough," he cried. "That's enough." Starting forward, he extended his hand. "My dear Sir John--allow me to congratulate you!" Armitage felt himself grow pale. He rose from his chair. "You mean that my father----" he exclaimed. The lawyer looked grave. "Your father, Sir William, is dead----" "But my elder brother, Charles?" stammered Armitage. "He succeeded to the title and estates--not I." "Your brother Charles," replied the lawyer solemnly, "was killed in an automobile accident five years ago." Armitage sank into a chair and burying his face in his hands burst into tears. That his father had died without forgiving him was bad enough, but that Charlie, his old pal, should have died years ago without his knowing it, was terrible! "Poor Charlie! Poor Charlie!" he murmured. "When your brother was dying," went on the lawyer, "he summoned your heart-broken father to his bedside and made him promise to forgive you, to make every effort to discover your whereabouts, and to make a will in your favor. They advertised for you in the London and colonial papers. We advertised for you in the American papers. We received no answer. And now your father has passed away. You are the sole heir. As the estates are entailed, you would have succeeded to the estates as a matter of course, but your father died forgiving you fully and leaving you sufficient income to keep up the title. Sir John, I again congratulate you on succeeding to an old and honored title and an income of little less than $100,000 a year." Armitage listened like a man who is dazed. It had all come so suddenly that he thought he must be dreaming. "When did my father die--of what?" he asked in a low tone. "Of heart failure--three weeks ago," was the rejoinder. "We've been trying to find you ever since. They followed you as far as the London docks, and then all trace of you was lost. Where have you been all these years?" The lawyer noted his new client's sun-tanned face, and he looked askance at his workman's dress. "Knocking about the world--trying to forget things," replied Armitage. Mr. Willoughby shook his head as he said: "Young men will do foolish things! Well, you've had your lesson. Perhaps you'll be a better man for the hard time you've had. The past is dead and forgotten. A bright future is before you. What do you propose to do now?" Armitage seemed lost in thought. "I don't know. I haven't had time to think." "Have you any ties here? Are you married?" Armitage smiled. "No, who would have me--a pauper?" Mr. Willoughby carefully adjusted his spectacles and said decisively: "Well, then, you had better start for England at once and take possession of your property under the will and entail. There will be a number of legal formalities to go through. I will advise our London office that you are coming. This is Tuesday. Could you sail on the _Florida_ next Saturday?" "I can," replied Armitage quickly. The lawyer went to his desk and sat down to write. A moment later he returned with a piece of paper in his hand. Holding it out, he said: "Of course you can't go dressed as you are. Here's a check for $1,000. It will pay your passage and your immediate needs. When you arrive in England, you can, of course, draw on our London office for all you want. You had better hurry now to book your passage and buy some clothes, and this evening if you have nothing else to do I shall be delighted if you'll dine with me at the Union League Club." He touched a bell, and the supercilious clerk entered. By the sneer on his face, he evidently expected that he had been summoned to eject the rough-looking visitor. To his astonishment, he saw his employer shaking hands with him. Mr. Willoughby accompanied Armitage into the outer office. "Good-by, Sir John," he said cordially. "I'm delighted to have made your acquaintance. Don't forget to-night. Union League Club, at 7 o'clock." The two clerks nearly swooned from amazement and consternation. As Armitage went down in the elevator he pinched himself to find out if he was awake. When he emerged into Broad Street he was surprised to find how different everything looked to him. The world had suddenly taken on another aspect. The sunshine seemed brighter. Every man and woman he met seemed more amiable and friendly. The whole world seemed gayer, more joyous. He felt within him a strange novel sensation of exhilaration. His moodiness, his pessimism had disappeared. He felt imbued with new life and energy, as if he could go forth and conquer a world. From less than nothing to a title and $100,000 a year is a jump big enough to daze any man. Suddenly he thought of Grace. If only he had received this news a few weeks before! Things might have been very different. Well, what was the use of torturing himself any longer? She was lost to him now--no matter how changed his circumstances and position. He stood still, at the edge of the curb, irresolute, not knowing what to do next. Putting his hand in his pocket to feel if the check was still there, he drew it out to look at it. It was drawn on the Chemical Bank and payable to bearer. A thousand dollars! He had never seen so much money in his life. It was a question if they wouldn't arrest him as a suspicious character when he presented it for payment. However, there was no time to be lost. He must get the check cashed at once, buy an outfit and secure his steamship passage. After some difficulty he found the Chemical Bank, opposite the Post-Office. It was a splendid building with a lofty dome of stained glass, reminding him of a church. Making his way to the paying-teller's window, he handed in the check. The teller, a gaunt, keen-eyed man with spectacles, looked first at the check and then at Armitage. The latter's appearance did not seem to fit the amount of money the check called for, and a suspicious look came over his face. Eyeing the bearer severely, he demanded sternly: "Where did you get this?" "From the man who drew it, of course," replied Armitage coolly. "Let me have it in fifties and hundreds!" Instead of complying with the request, the teller quickly touched an electric bell. It was evidently a signal, for instantly a special policeman attached to the Bank came up and took up a position near Armitage. He made no attempt to interfere, but just remained on hand in case he was wanted. Meantime the teller was already in telephonic communication with Coxe and Willoughby. "Is this Coxe and Willoughby?" asked the teller. "This is Mr. Willoughby," came the answer. "Have you drawn to-day a check for $1,000 payable to bearer?" "I have." "What does the bearer look like?" "Tall, dark man, smooth face, dressed like a workingman. It's all right. Pay it at once. Good day." That was enough. The teller returned to his little window. Dismissing the uniformed attendant, he turned to Armitage and in a tone as if he had never for a moment doubted the genuineness of the check, asked suavely: "Fifties and hundreds, I think you said, Sir." Rapidly counting out the bills, he passed them through the little opening and turned to attend to the next man on the line. Armitage slowly folded up bills, a grim smile of satisfaction. He had enjoyed the situation hugely. "Now for my steamship passage!" he muttered to himself. Turning to the right as he re-entered Broadway, he walked about a mile in the direction of the Battery until he came to Bowling Green, where the steamship companies have their offices. Conspicuous on the left-hand side were the palatial offices of the Blue Star Line. As he went up the imposing stone steps leading to the passenger booking-rooms, he thought bitterly under what different conditions he had last visited these offices. Then it was to sign articles as stoker on the _Atlanta_. He entered the room devoted exclusively to first cabin business, and a clerk, quick to notice his shabby appearance, spoke up impatiently: "Can't you read? This is first cabin. Steerage and second cabin on the other side of the hall." Armitage gave the clerk a look that made the latter wish he had left the caller alone. "Who asked you for any information?" he demanded, pretending wrath he did not feel. "This is only first class," repeated the clerk peevishly, but not without feeling some respect to his interlocutor's massive shoulders. "I don't care whether it's first class or tenth class," growled Armitage. "Let me see the plan of the _Florida_." The clerk gasped as he laid the plan before him. "The lowest in this ship is $150 a berth--two in a room," he said, in a tone as if he expected this would quickly settle the matter. "Two in a room--not for mine," said Armitage jovially. "I want something comfortable. How's this?" he added, pointing to a berth. "Single berth room--$400," said the clerk blandly. "I'll take it," replied the new passenger. Peeling off four 100-dollar bills from the bank-roll, he threw them before the astonished clerk. "What name, sir?" he asked, more respectfully. "Sir John Armitage." The clerk's hand shook so with surprise and nervousness that he dropped the book-plan on the floor. Leaving the steamship offices, Armitage proceeded along Broadway, chuckling. How sweet was the power of money! Now he would be able to wield this power, to enslave men as they had enslaved him. Yet in the midst of this new-found joy, he knew there was something still lacking. He was haunted by a pair of dark eyes, lips that had trembled with passion he alone had awakened. What good was his money, his new-found power, if it would not give him the woman he wanted. Engaged to that spendthrift princeling, she was entirely lost to him. She had sold herself, and he tried to persuade himself that he despised her for it. Yet how could he go away without saying good-by? It was different when everything looked hopeless, when his social standing was immeasurably beneath hers. He would never have subjected himself to a snub, and he had avoided her for that reason. He knew it would pain her to snub him, yet she would be compelled to do so. It would only have meant more suffering for him. But now it was different. He was more than her equal socially. In fact, he was her social superior. He could not go away without saying good-by. There could never be anything between them. She was going to marry the other fellow and satisfy her ambition to be a member of a royal house. Yet for all that they were still good friends. He wondered how he could see her. The best way probably was to write her a letter, telling her he was sailing immediately and asking for an interview. He would say nothing about his accession to the title, but just that his condition had changed for the better. This revealed nothing, and yet would account for his better clothes and possession of funds. A firm of ready-made clothiers speedily fitted him with a neat business suit and furnished all the other things he required. When the transformation was complete with a clean shave and hair cut, he did not recognize himself in the mirror. That night he took rooms at the Waldorf, and after enjoying a good dinner with Mr. Willoughby at the Union League Club, he returned to the hotel, sitting down in the reading-room, he wrote Grace a letter. CHAPTER XXII. NEW YORK CITY, Tuesday. DEAR MISS HARMON: You will perhaps consider this letter an impertinence, and yet you may not--under the circumstances. When the other day I called at your house, at your father's request, Mr. Harmon asked me to go up-stairs to see you. It was impossible for me at that time to accept his kind invitation. You will understand why. Since then, however, a change for the better has taken place in my affairs. The outlook is no longer so hopeless. I am leaving America. I sail on Saturday. I cannot go without saying good-by. I have read in the newspapers about your coming marriage to the Prince of Eurasia. I sincerely hope that this realization of your life's ambition will bring the happiness you expect. No matter what the future may have in store for me, the recollection of those all too few weeks we spent alone in close association on Hope Island will never grow dim in my memory. I can never forget you or the dream of supreme happiness that I once thought within my grasp. The signal fire is now dead and cold on Mount Hope's lofty summit, but another flame as bright and fierce, which you yourself kindled, will continue to blaze in my heart while life endures. I know that you are forever lost to me, I know that another will call you wife, yet night and day I am haunted by the memory of that mad afternoon on the sun-kissed sands when, almost crazed with passion, I seized you in my arms to take you for my own. Then, all at once, came the rude awakening! But all that is past and gone. I steel my heart to try and forget what I had won and lost again. I will leave you in peace to enjoy your new happiness. You will never see or hear from me after I leave New York. Yet I would like to see you just once more, to grasp your hand and wish you well. We were always friends, and for one brief moment we were almost lovers. May I call on Thursday afternoon? Yours sincerely, JOHN ARMITAGE. Ensconced in the big bay window of the library, comfortably propped up with cushions, Grace sat gazing pensively over the tree tops of Central Park. In her hand was Armitage's letter, which she had read and reread a dozen times until she knew every word by heart. Close by, impatiently tossed against a chair, was a magnificent floral basket which Prince Sergius had sent that morning. Attached to the basket by a white ribbon was an envelope--unopened. The perfume from the flowers scented the entire room, but Grace seemed to be unconscious of their presence. She kept looking out of the window as if expecting each instant to see some one appear on the Avenue. Every now and then she consulted her watch. "Ten minutes past three!" she murmured. "I wrote that I should expect him at three. Perhaps he never got my letter." A look of worry came over her face, and she was straining her eyes in an effort to distinguish far-away figures on the avenues when the door opened and her French maid entered. Grace looked up. "What is it, Louise?" she asked. "Ze telephone, Mademoiselle. His Royal Highness want to know if you are at home." "Did you say I was home?" "_Mais non_, Mademoiselle. I said I would see if Mademoiselle was in." Grace left her place by the window and paced nervously up and down the room. "Tell His Royal Highness that I'm out," she said. With a gesture of impatience she added: "Say I've gone out to dinner and won't be back until late. _Vous comprenez?_" The girl curtsied. "_Mais oui_, Mademoiselle." She was leaving the room when Grace called her back. "Take these flowers away, too. Their strong perfume makes me nervous." "_Très bien_, Mademoiselle." Elevating her eyebrows as if to convey that she quite understood the situation, the maid took up the floral-basket and disappeared. Grace resumed her vigil at the window, watching eagerly every one who came in sight along the avenue, wondering if each newcomer was the one man who was in her thoughts. She was annoyed with herself for having betrayed herself before the servant. Yet surely they could all see that she detested the Prince, and that she was only marrying him for his lofty position. It had been the ambition of her life, her father approved it, her friends envied her, the papers were full of the splendors of the wonderful Eurasian palace of which she would one day be mistress. How could she resist? Yet how they must all despise her for selling herself! Once more she took up Armitage's letter and read it through. She wondered why he was leaving America and what the change for the better of which he spoke could be. No doubt he had been successful in securing more congenial employment. She was sincerely glad to hear it. She would remember him always. She wondered why life was so contrary, so cruel. The one man she could have loved truly, sincerely, was too poor for her to marry, too far beneath her in the social scale. Suppose she braved everything for his sake, what then? It would break her father's heart. All her friends would laugh at her. The world would ostracise her. No--it was an impossible dream. She owed something to her position. Her own happiness must be sacrificed to please others. Angry, defiant yet powerless to resist the laws of the society she moved in, she rebelled at the injustice and cruelty of it. Suddenly the bell at the front door rang. She heard voices, followed by steps on the stairs. A footman appeared on the library threshold. "Mr. Armitage has called to see Miss Harmon." Grace advanced, nervous. "Ask Mr. Armitage to come up." The servant withdrew, and Grace crossed hastily to the mirror to see if everything about herself was as she wanted him to see it. A moment later she heard some one enter the room behind her. It was Armitage. She turned and greeted him with a smile, extending her hand, which for a moment he held firmly in his. She hardly knew him, so altered was he in appearance. He wore a neat business suit, with derby hat and gloves. His hair trimmed and carefully brushed, was more wavy and glossy than usual, and a close shave threw into still greater relief the academic outline of his features. The change was so remarkable that at first she hardly recognized him. But when she heard the familiar rich tones of his deep, manly voice, no further doubt was possible. "I've come to say good-by," he said, with a smile. "What a change!" she exclaimed, with an effort to appear light-hearted and at ease. He made no answer for a moment, embarrassed as to what to say. Then he replied: "Yes--I do look a little different, don't I? It's wonderful what clothes will do. No wonder they are the world's only standard!" "Come and sit here and tell me about it." She led the way to the low recess at the bay-window, and, sinking down on the cushions, she motioned him to take a seat opposite. "Tell me," she repeated, "what good fairy has worked this transformation?" He smiled as he replied: "Things have changed a little for the better." "You mean that you have found more lucrative and congenial employment?" He hesitated, not willing to lie to her. Yet, after all, it was the truth. His new position was decidedly more lucrative. "Yes," he replied, after a pause. "More lucrative--more congenial." Grace was puzzled. His answers were vague. He was hiding something from her. Perhaps he thought her questions impertinent. After all, what right had she to question him? "I'm pleased--for your sake," she answered, rather haughtily. Armitage was quick to notice the difference in her tone, and intuitively he divined the reason. "For my sake?" he echoed. "Why should you care?" "I shall always be glad to hear that you are prospering and--happy," she answered. He looked into her eyes without speaking. There was a melancholy, wistful expression in his face. He seemed to want to say something and did not dare. Embarrassed by the continuity of his fixed gaze, she averted her head and looked out of the window over into the park, where the nurses and children were playing on the green lawns. There was a silence that was almost painful. At last he broke it. "You will be happy," he said. "One day you will be a Princess!" Grace sighed. With a forced laugh she said: "Happiness! What is happiness? We are always pursuing it, we think we've found it, only to find it empty and unreal, after all." "You're happy, aren't you?" he persisted. For a moment she made no answer. Then she said: "Yes--I suppose I am." "When do you expect to get married?" he asked. "I don't know--nothing is settled--perhaps never----" She laughed nervously. There was something in the tone of her voice that sounded like a stifled sob. Armitage watched her closely. This was not the way a happy woman acts or talks. Could it be that she did not care for the Prince, that she was forcing herself in this ambitious marriage in spite of her own better, truer self? Certainly the man was unworthy of her. The escapades and scandals in which he had been mixed up were the talk of Europe. She must be aware of his real character, or was she completely blinded by the brilliancy of his position? His heart throbbed furiously as he thought that he had perhaps guessed the truth. He wondered if it would make any difference if he told her everything, of the miraculous change in his fortune, that he was no longer a penniless outcast of society, but the bearer of one of the proudest titles in England. That's why he hesitated. It might make a difference, and that he didn't want. If after being told of the change in his position she consented to marry him, he would always suspect that it was for his title. No, if he was to win her he was determined that she should love him for himself. The thought that there was still a possibility of making her his wife had never presented itself until now. On the desert island, remote from the conventions of civilized life, bound only by nature's laws, he had claimed her as his chattel, his primordial right. He was the lord and master whose will she must obey without question. But now, restored to the protection of civilization, she was free to exercise her own will, and it had never occurred to him that, of all the men who had courted her, she might have chosen him from preference. Such a possibility was beyond his most fantastic dreams. Yet, after all, why not? Breaking the long and awkward silence, he said: "Have you quite recovered from your experience on Hope Island?" "Yes--I'm all right now," she replied quickly. "You're more comfortable, at any rate," he smiled, glancing around at the oriental rugs, books and costly _objets d'art_ with which the luxuriously furnished room was littered. "I suppose you're glad to be home." She shook her head, and a wistful smile came into her face as she answered: "Sometimes I wish I were back there. Now that I've returned, it's the same social treadmill again--the same exhausting round of teas, receptions, dinners, and all the rest, hearing women talk nothing but dress and scandal and bridge until you begin to think there is nothing else in the world worth discussing. It's nauseating. When I think of those ideal days on the little island--the life of perfect peace under the cool trees by the silver sea--doing cheerfully each day's allotted task, helping you as best I could--when I think of how happy I was leading that lonely peaceful existence, I'm almost sorry we were rescued." A glad smile broke over his face. His eyes flashed and his mouth trembled slightly as he eagerly bent forward. "Really?" he said. "You were happier then?" She flushed and then turned pale. He hardly heard the low answer that came from her lips: "I don't know." His steady gaze embarrassed her. She was afraid that he might read the secret which lay deep in her heart. Rising abruptly from her seat by the window, she crossed the room, stopping near a side table to arrange some American beauty roses in a vase. Armitage rose and followed her. "Tell me," he persisted eagerly. "Were you happier then than you are now?" "Suppose we change the subject," she said hastily, without turning round. "Let us talk about you and your plans. So you're going to England?" He nodded gravely. "I sail on Saturday. I came to say good-by." Grace nervously plucked one of the roses and crushed its soft, perfumed petals against her face. Her head still averted, she said: "But you'll come back?" "No--never," he replied firmly. She made no reply, and, as he could not see her face, he did not know that tears were in her eyes and that her lips were trembling. She could not speak without betraying her feelings. An awkward silence followed. Armitage stood watching her. This girl loved him--he was convinced of that now. Only her pride was keeping them apart. A struggle for the mastery was going on within her, between her artificial self and her true self. One word from him and she would know that she had no reason to be ashamed of the man to whom she had given her love; that, on the contrary, she might be proud to be his wife. But that one word he was determined not to speak. He owed that much to his manhood, to his self-respect. This would be the crucial test. If she loved him, it must be for himself alone, not for his title. If he won her, he would proudly carry off the prize of two New York seasons--he, penniless, unknown, to all appearances an ordinary workman! He moved forward so he could see her face. "We've been good friends," he went on. "I can never forget you. You made a new man of me. You came into my life at a time when everything seemed at an end. Your sweet, gentle influence filled me with renewed hope, renewed energy, a determination to begin life anew. Suddenly, I discovered that you were indispensable to my happiness. In my folly I dreamed that you might become my wife. Perhaps if things had turned out otherwise, if the _Saucy Polly_ had not come---- Well, what's the use of talking of that now? I was insane. I lifted my eyes to the stars. I deserved to be punished for my temerity." Grace did not stir. Fascinated, she stood listening to his words. There was sadness in his voice, and the music of its rich tones still exercised on her its old-time magnetism. What potent attraction was there about this man that rendered her powerless to resist his pleading? Was she afraid to confess to herself that she loved him and that she was ready to do anything, break off with the Prince, incur the ridicule of her friends, offend her father--for his sake? Armitage continued: "But that is all over now. We part good friends. You go your way--I will go mine. You will find happiness with the Prince----" Grace turned quickly. Her eyes red and flashing, her bosom heaving with pent-up emotion, she cried: "The Prince! The Prince! I detest the Prince! I wouldn't marry him if there wasn't another man left in the world." Armitage drew back, surprised. "Aren't you engaged to him?" he demanded. "No--no! That is only newspaper talk. He has been annoying me with his attentions, and of course all my people were flattered. But there's nothing more serious." "Thank God!" he muttered under his breath. "What did you say?" she asked. "I'm glad--for your sake," was his evasive answer. He approached closer and held out his hand. "Good-by," he said in a low tone. Again she averted her head, and as she did so she stumbled against the table. Afraid she was going to fall, he caught her by the hand. Their hands remained clasped. She made no attempt to withdraw. He grew bolder and went still nearer. A strange sensation of sudden weakness came over her. She felt as if her will-power was about to succumb before a superior mental force. She loved this man. He was the first and only man she had ever cared for, and she was losing him. Her eyes filled with tears. What had she done that the happiness which other women know should not be granted also to her? "Good-by!" he said again. She made no answer. Bending forward to catch a glimpse of her face, he saw traces of tears. "What?" he exclaimed. "You are crying!" "Am I?" she said quickly, making a desperate effort to hide her face. "How foolish!" "Why are you crying?" he demanded. "I'm nervous, I think. I have not yet quite recovered from the wreck." He looked at her, trying to read her innermost thoughts. She met his gaze unflinchingly. "Is that the reason, or is there another?" Drawing her gently to him, he said: "You are unhappy-- I know you are---- You are allowing your pride to stand in the way of your happiness. I have no right to blame you. You are free to do as you think is right. Only I am sorry for you--sorrier for you than I am for myself. Good-by. May God bless and protect you. Just one kind word, one smile before I go. We may never see each other again." His voice trembled and grew husky. Manlike, he was ashamed of showing emotion; he was anxious to get away before he lost control of himself. He left her standing there, took his hat and gloves and went toward the door. She stood motionless watching him going, powerless to utter the word that would stay him. The color left her face. She grew ashen pale. Her entire being trembled with suppressed emotion. At the door he turned round for the last time. "Good-by--God bless you!" he said. "Wait--just a moment--just a moment!" she cried desperately. The spell seemed broken. She made a movement forward, her hand outstretched. There was a wild look of mute appeal in her eyes. "You are going alone," she demanded, her breath coming and going in quick spasmodic gasps. "Yes--alone." [Illustration: "NO--YOU'RE NOT! I'M GOING WITH YOU."] "No--no--you're not!" she cried, advancing toward him. "What do you mean?" he demanded. "Because I'm going with you!" The next instant she was in his arms, her face buried in his shoulder. "Going with me?" he exclaimed hoarsely. He thought he must be dreaming. Does such happiness as this come to a man so suddenly? "Yes," she whispered; "as your wife--to the end of the world if necessary." "But have you considered everything--your father--your friends--the uncertain future?" "I've weighed everything. I knew that I loved you all along. I struggled with my pride, and I've mastered it. My father will forgive me when he knows that I am happy. As to what society thinks, I don't care." "But are you willing to marry a poor man--are you willing to sacrifice all the luxuries you now enjoy for what may be a precarious existence with me?" She looked up at him, her face radiant. "I'd give up everything for you. Wealth does not bring happiness. I've found that out. I did not know what happiness was until I spent those blissful days with you on Hope Island. I'll welcome poverty if I am to share it with you. We can live in a cottage, on nothing a year, and I'll still be the happiest woman on earth." He clasped her in his strong arms and fiercely kissed her unresisting lips. Here was a woman that any man might rejoice to call wife, and he had won her by love alone. "It isn't as bad as all that, dearest," he said, with a smile. "What do you mean?" she demanded, puzzled. "There is no immediate danger of your having to live any differently." Grace opened her eyes in amazement. "What do you mean?" she repeated. "My father may be so incensed that he won't give me anything." Armitage smiled. "We wouldn't take it if he did. We wouldn't need to. I have plenty of my own." Grace was more and more mystified. "Are you jesting?" she exclaimed. "Not in the least. Didn't I tell you there had been a change for the better in my fortunes?" "Yes, but----" Taking fondly once more in his arms the girl he had won, he whispered: "That's why I--that's why we--are going to England, dearest. My father, Sir William Armitage, died three weeks ago. I am heir to the title and estates." "I always thought you were more than you seemed," she murmured. Looking up at him mischievously, she added: "So you deceived me-- I marry a title, after all?" He looked down proudly at her as he replied with his frank smile: "But I wooed you as a poor man. You are mine--by right of conquest!" THE END. WHAT THE CRITICS SAY OF THE END OF THE GAME BY ARTHUR HORNBLOW * * * * * THE LITERARY DIGEST "'The End of the Game' belongs to the school of good old-fashioned fiction which delighted the scant leisure hours of our grandmothers. It is a good healthy tale of normal human happenings, a sort of protest against the decadent type of novel which seems to be widening its empire among us. The characters are good human creatures and not the flat paper dolls found in the pages of so much current fiction." New York TIMES "A creditable piece of work. The resemblance of the story to the careers of certain men who have been much in the public eye is not to be denied. One pronounced good quality of the novel is that the author has not hesitated to bring the story to a tragic and logical conclusion. His descriptions of the terrors of modern journalism are not nearly so exaggerated as the reader will probably imagine. The story of the patient wife has a pathos and a realism that strike the keynote of sincerity." New York WORLD "Mr. Hornblow has novelized the brain-stormy Pittsburg millionaire and a few other matters that make racy reading." New York GLOBE "The 70,000 readers who enjoyed Mr. Hornblow's story 'The Lion and the Mouse' will have a similar treat in 'The End of the Game.'" Cleveland NEWS "The author's pictures of New York and Pittsburg are worthy of a place beside the poetic prose of Whitman." New York EVENING SUN "If Mr. Hornblow's first book, 'The Lion and the Mouse,' was capitalized Oil on troubled waters, 'The End of the Game' is equally a study in steel." Savannah (Ga.) NEWS "An intensely interesting and capitally told story. Mr. Hornblow has something to say and knows how to say it." BOOK NEWS MONTHLY "The same verve and rapidity of action that characterized Mr. Hornblow's successful novel written from 'The Lion and the Mouse' are in this new and up-to-date story." _12mo. Illustrated and handsomely bound in red cloth, $1.50_ * * * * * "THE PROFLIGATE" By Arthur Hornblow * * * * * The Baltimore SUN "In plot, incidents, emotions, verisimilitude and style this interesting story ranks with the best of this year's novels. The moral tone of the story is excellent--a welcome novelty in up-to-date novels." Chicago INTER-OCEAN "'The Profligate' is a good story. The principal personage of the book is a young man wholly given to gambling and dissipation. Yet the author successfully intimates instinctive reserves of decency in his hero and thus prepares us to accept his final turning away from former pursuits under the inspiration of a good woman's affection. The author must be given credit for a certain originality of treatment; the denouement is sufficiently dramatic and the interest admirably sustained to the end." New York WORLD "There are no waits between the acts in 'The Profligate.' The book will make a lot of money." Philadelphia NORTH AMERICAN "'The Profligate' is a modern rake's progress centering in a mysterious tragedy that drives the hero into exile and culminating in a series of sensational surprises. The novelist's gifts of invention, his skill in inspiring and conserving interest in his important characters and a considerable talent for dramatic description should contribute in no slight degree to strengthen the grip of the story upon popular attention." Charlestown, S. C. NEWS & COURIER "A thrilling story of love, mystery and adventure, 'The Profligate' claims the attention at the outset and holds it to the end. The story is dramatically and forcefully told and altogether is a very interesting book. The characters are not overdrawn, the situations not impossible, and the book will doubtless have a large and ready sale." Mr. Hornblow's splendid achievements with "The Lion and the Mouse," and "The End of the Game," must be fresh in the memory of all who follow current literature. _12mo, Cloth Bound. Illustrations by Charles Grunwald. $1.50_ G. W. DILLINGHAM CO., Publishers, NEW YORK WHAT THE REVIEWERS SAID About the Novel THE LION AND THE MOUSE Novelized from Charles Klein's great play By ARTHUR HORNBLOW * * * * * New York TRIBUNE "Mr. Hornblow has done his work with creditable aptitude. He is successful where success is most important--in keeping up the reader's suspense, in working effectively toward the climax. The book will interest those who have seen the play, and will doubtless send others to the theatre." New York TIMES "Mr. Hornblow has made his novelization of an enormously successful play in a workmanlike manner. The story, like the play, belongs to this very minute. It is full of a spirit and a feeling that are in the air. It deals with subjects which much iteration has strongly impressed on the people, and its point of view is the most obvious. The novel is likely to have an enormous sale." New York AMERICAN "Undoubtedly the book of the hour. Both the novel and the play appeal to the widest possible American public. The novelist gives more of the interesting story and has enhanced the virility and the element of suspense materially. The reader's interest will never lag a moment from cover to cover." Cleveland NEWS "'The Lion and the Mouse,' as a novel, more than maintains the reputation of its author as a clean-cut exposition of throbbing American life by a real novelist. Mr. Hornblow knows his subject and has succeeded in welding his own characteristic and illuminating expression to the idea of another man in such a manner that the novel must take its place beside the play as a welcome addition to American art." Washington POST "Will become the most talked-of book of the year.... As exciting and fascinating a narrative as has appeared in novel form in years." New Orleans HARLEQUIN "Mr. Hornblow's book is written in distinguished English; its chapters are chiselled to exact proportions; its story is clear and limpid; particularly are its characters cleverly vivid, and with few exceptions tell themselves in the dialogue more plainly than they could with ever so much extrinsic aid of psychic and physical description. The American nation is indebted to him. He has clothed with the vibrant palpitating flesh of life-interest the greatest economic problem and evil of the day. It is a book to make the multitude think." 
45457	----	[Illustration: He looked as if he meant to hit her, and Linda recoiled in terror. (Page 50)] LINDA CARLTON'S ISLAND ADVENTURE By EDITH LAVELL [Illustration: Linda and airplane] THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY Akron, Ohio New York Copyright MCMXXXI THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY Linda Carlton's Island Adventure _Made in the United States of America_ Contents CHAPTER PAGE I _The "Ladybug"_ 7 II _The Aviation Job_ 25 III _Kidnapped_ 40 IV _Captive_ 56 V _Escape_ 71 VI _The Enemy in the Autogiro_ 85 VII _The Smash-Up_ 96 VIII _The Chief of Police_ 107 IX _Two Prisoners_ 123 X _Susie Disappears_ 138 XI _The Island in the Ocean_ 158 XII _The Money-Bags_ 172 XIII _The Broken Motor-Boat_ 182 XIV _Searching Parties_ 194 XV _The Empty Island_ 209 XVI _Searching the Ocean_ 224 XVII _On to Cuba_ 237 XVIII _Luck for Ted and Louise_ 251 XIX _The Return_ 263 XX _Conclusion_ 275 LINDA CARLTON'S ISLAND ADVENTURE CHAPTER I _The "Ladybug"_ "There's a young lady here to see you, Linda," announced Miss Emily Carlton, coming into her niece's room the morning after the latter's return from the St. Louis Ground School. The girl had just graduated, winning both commercial and transport licenses, and, besides that, she was registered as the only feminine airplane mechanic in the country. "Who is she, Auntie?" inquired Linda, rubbing her eyes and peering out the window into the lovely June sunshine. What a wonderful day! Too beautiful to spend on the ground! But she sighed as she recalled that at the moment she did not possess a plane. "A reporter, I believe," replied the older woman. "Miss Hawkins, from the 'News'." "But I haven't done anything to get into the newspapers," objected Linda. "My dear child, you don't have to! Aren't you the only girl who ever flew the Atlantic alone? That's enough to keep you in the spotlight forever." "But I don't like spot-lights," Linda insisted, starting to dress. "Couldn't you get rid of her, Auntie?" Miss Carlton shook her head. "I tried to, dear. But she wouldn't go. She wants to know your summer plans. I told her you'd probably just spend a quiet vacation with me at Green Falls, where we were last year. But she didn't believe me. She said you weren't the type to take your vacations quietly." Linda laughed. "I guess she's right, Aunt Emily." The latter looked troubled. She had been trying for a year--ever since Linda's father had given her an Arrow Pursuit bi-plane for graduation--to keep the girl out of the air as much as possible, but she had not succeeded. The Carltons were comfortably well-off, and it was Miss Carlton's wish that Linda go in for society, and make a good marriage. But though Linda enjoyed occasional parties as much as any normal young person, she had a serious purpose in life, to make flying her career just as a young man would. "You won't go to Green Falls--with all the rest of the crowd?" asked Miss Carlton, anxiously. "I can't, Aunt Emily. I--I--can't spare the time. I am trying to get a job." "A job? But you don't need money. Your father's business is dong nicely----" "Oh, it isn't the money I want," interrupted the girl. "It's the experience." Linda finished dressing and came down stairs to meet the young woman who was waiting for her. The latter insisted that she eat her breakfast while they talked. "Honestly, I haven't done a thing interesting to the world since my ocean flight!" Linda said. "Except win my licenses, and all the graduates' names have already been listed in the papers." The reporter smiled at her as if she were a child. "My dear girl," she explained, "you are front-page news now, no matter what you do. You are Queen of the Air, and will be until some other woman does something more daring than your flight to Paris alone. So everything you do interests the public. Naturally they want to know what you are planning for the summer. Flying to South America, or Alaska? And what kind of plane do you intend to buy next, since you sold your Bellanca in Paris?" Linda yawned, and fingered her mail--a great pile of letters beside her plate. Invitations, mostly from the younger set in Spring City, for she was very popular. "I'm afraid I don't know yet," she replied, simply. "Maybe if you read your mail--" suggested the reporter. "She is to be a bridesmaid at Miss Katherine Clavering's wedding next week," supplied Miss Carlton, entering the dining-room. As usual, social events were all-important to her, especially affairs with the Claverings, the richest people in Spring City. Katherine, or "Kitty," as her friends all called her, was to be married to Lt. Hulbert of the U. S. Flying Corps, and her brother Ralph made no secret of his devotion for Linda. If he had had his way, they would have been married last Christmas, and aviation jobs would be out of the question for Linda Carlton at the present time. The girl searched through her mail rapidly, and picked out a letter which interested her above all others. It was from the Pitcairn Autogiro Company in the East. As she read it, her blue eyes lighted up with enthusiasm, and she examined the enclosed circular with excited interest, completely forgetting her visitor. The reporter waited patiently for a minute or two. "Well, what's it all about, Miss Carlton?" she finally inquired. Linda looked up at her as if she were startled, and suddenly remembered her caller. She handed her the circular. "I am going to buy an autogiro," she announced, with decision. "A what?" demanded her aunt, thinking Linda referred to some kind of automobile. "A new car?" The reporter smiled. "A flying bug?" she demanded. Miss Carlton gasped in horror. A bug! What would her niece be up to next? "Linda!" she exclaimed. "It's a plane, Aunt Emily," the girl explained. "You ought to like it. It's the very safest kind there is. In the eight or nine years since it was invented, nobody has been killed with one." Miss Carlton looked doubtful. "No airplane is safe," she remarked. "This isn't an airplane. It's an autogiro." "But it flies?" "Of course." Linda showed her the picture. It was indeed a queer looking object, with its wind-mill-like arrangement on top, and its absence of big wings. As the reporter had observed, its appearance was very like a huge bug. "They do say it's unusually safe," corroborated the latter. "You'll have to take a ride in it, Miss Carlton." "Not I!" protested the older woman. "Firm earth is good enough for me.... No, it looks dangerous enough to me." Linda smiled; she could never convince her aunt of the joy of flying, or of the minimum risk, if one were a careful pilot. She was glad that her father was more broad-minded; if he weren't, she would still be on the ground. "And where will you go with your Flying Bug, Miss Carlton?" asked the reporter, tapping her pencil on her note-book. "Not on any long flight," replied the girl, to her aunt's relief. "My aim is to get some sort of aviation job." "What would you like to do?" "Anything connected with planes. I prefer flying, but I'd be satisfied at the beginning with ground work.... If you will write down your telephone number, Miss Hawkins, I will call you up when I have decided definitely just what my plans will be." "Thank you very much!" exclaimed the other girl, rising. "I think you are a peach, Miss Carlton. Some celebrities are so mean to us reporters." "I'm afraid I'm not a real celebrity," laughed Linda. "I'll be forgotten by the public this time next year. I sincerely hope that more and more girls and women will be doing things in aviation, so that my little stunt will seem trivial. That is progress, you know." Scarcely had the visitor gone before Miss Carlton was begging Linda to open her other letters. "The Junior League picnic is tomorrow," she said. "And Dot Crowley is giving a luncheon in honor of Kitty Clavering.... There are probably a lot more things, too...." Rather listlessly Linda opened her letters. It was not the same, she thought, without Louise to share everything. Louise Haydock--Louise Mackay now--had been her chum all through school, where they were so inseparable that they were always referred to by their friends as the "double Ls." The other girl's marriage had meant a sharp break to Linda, for the Mackays had moved to Wichita, Kansas, where Ted was employed as a flyer. As if Miss Carlton understood her niece's thoughts, she remarked that Louise was coming for Kitty's wedding. Linda's eyes shone with joy. "Flying?" she inquired, as a matter of course. "Yes. She and Ted are arriving some time tonight. Mrs. Haydock called up, and asked me to tell you." Linda could not read her mail for a few minutes, so intense was her happiness at this splendid news. "Ted can go with me to see about the autogiro!" she exclaimed. "I do so want his opinion!" "Go where?" "To Philadelphia, where the Pitcairn Company is located." Again Miss Carlton looked annoyed, almost shocked. "You don't mean to say you'll take time to fly to Philadelphia, with all your engagements?" Linda nodded. "I'll be here for the wedding, Aunt Emily. Don't worry about that. But nothing else is particularly important." Miss Carlton groaned. What could you do with a girl like Linda? You might as well have a boy! The mail was finally opened and sorted, and Linda dutifully went to a dinner dance at the Country Club that evening with Ralph Clavering. But she was tense all evening, for she was hoping every moment that Louise would arrive. About midnight the young couple dashed in, radiant in their happiness. To everyone's amusement Louise flew into Linda's arms in the middle of the dance floor. "How do you get that way?" demanded Ralph, pretending to be angry. "As if it isn't enough to endure every fellow in the room tapping me when I'm dancing with Linda, without having girls do it too!" But the double Ls scarcely heard him. They were so enraptured at seeing each other again. "I'm going to stay a week!" announced Louise. "Luckily, Ted has some business in Philadelphia and New York, and he'll be flying back and forth." "Philadelphia!" exclaimed Linda. "Isn't that great! Can we go with him there?" "Of course we can, if you don't mind a squeeze. The plane isn't very big," explained Louise. "But then, we're not fat. Ted'll be tickled to death to have company--he hates flying alone. But why do you want to go to Philadelphia, Linda?" "To buy an autogiro!" "You always were crazy about those things. Remember the time you gave up a dance to fly one?" "I certainly do. And you wouldn't go with me." "Well, there was a reason," laughed Louise, making no secret of her admiration for her husband.... "I think Ted'll go day after tomorrow," she continued. "We thought we'd enjoy resting a day, and taking in the Junior League picnic." "Fine!" agreed Linda. "That will give everybody a chance to see you. Besides, Aunt Emily would die if I missed that affair. Remember the one last year. Didn't we have fun?" "We certainly did," smiled Louise, reminiscently. "But it seems like more than a year ago--so much has happened." "I wasn't even flying then," observed the other. "And I hadn't met Ted!" "You're a real bride, Lou!" returned Linda, affectionately. "But you're just the same old dear!" The following day was just as delightful as it had been the previous year, and the picnic another success. To Linda it was all the more enjoyable, because of the novelty of seeing her old friends again after the separation caused by a year at the school in St. Louis. Ted went along with Louise, and entered into all the sports, just as if he had been born and brought up with the crowd in Spring City. Moreover, he was delighted at the prospect of having the two girls go with him the next day, and appeared almost as enthusiastic about the autogiro as Linda herself. The weather continued perfect, and the three happy young people took off from Spring City the following morning. An excellent mechanic himself, Ted always kept his plane in tip-top condition, and it was a rare thing indeed for him even to encounter a minor accident. This flight proved no exception; straight and swift through the June skies he flew to the field outside the city of Philadelphia where the autogiros were on display. "You really expect to buy one today, Linda?" asked Louise, as she climbed out of the plane. "Yes--if Ted gives his approval," replied the capable aviatrix. She had always had the greatest confidence in this young red-haired pilot, who had taken her on her first flight, and who had saved her and his wife from disaster upon two occasions. "Are you sure that it can go fast enough to suit you, Linda?" asked Ted. "It can travel a hundred and twenty-five miles an hour, and that ought to satisfy me. If I were entering any air-races, I'd want a special racing plane anyhow, for the occasion. But I'm not going out for races. I want to take a job, and I think an autogiro will be the most convenient plane I can have, to take with me anywhere I want to go. I shan't have to depend on big fields for landing." "Right-o," agreed the young man. They walked across the field and were shown a model by an enthusiastic salesman. As the reporter had said, it did look like a flying bug, with its odd wind-mill-like rotor on top, and its small stub-like wings, which were there mainly to mount the lateral controls or ailerons. "It isn't so pretty as the Arrow," remarked Louise. "Handsome is as handsome does," returned Linda. "If we'd had an autogiro that time in Canada, when our gas leaked out, a forced landing wouldn't have been disastrous." "Why?" "Because the rotor takes care of that, after the engine is dead," explained Linda. "An autogiro can come down vertically at a slower rate than we did with our parachutes." "I'll never forget how scared I was that time we jumped off," remarked her companion. "You know, it's one thing to see other people do it--in the air, or at the movies--and its something else to step off into space yourself. That all-gone feeling!" "I don't mind it any more now--it doesn't seem any worse than dropping ten stories in an elevator. But I know what you mean." "Well, I have never had to jump since," Louise informed her. "But," she continued as they walked around the autogiro, "isn't there really any danger of crashing?" "You can crash, of course," laughed Linda. "If you steer straight for another plane, or a tree. But tail-spins are practically impossible; they say no matter what happens the autogiro settles to the ground like a tired hen. It's the principle of centrifugal force--it can't fail." "Oh, yeah?" remarked Louise, hiding a yawn. "What I want your opinion on, Ted," added Linda, turning to the young man, "is the engine. You know more about engines than I do." "I'm not so sure of that last," he replied, modestly. "Looks O.K. to me--I've been examining it while you girls chattered." The salesman, who had been listening to the conversation, suddenly burst into a smile. He had been wondering where he had seen that girl before. Now he knew! Her pictures had been in every newspaper in the country. She was Linda Carlton, of course! "You're Miss Carlton, aren't you?" he demanded, excitedly. "The girl who flew to Paris alone?" "Yes," answered Linda, indifferently. She didn't want to talk ancient history now. "This is a P C A--2, isn't it?" she inquired, to bring the man to the subject of autogiros. "Yes. Fifteen thousand dollars. I suppose it's not necessary to tell _you_ what instruments it is equipped with--an experienced flyer like yourself can recognize them by a glance into the pilot's cock-pit." "Yes, I see them. And I had a circular besides.... It's complete, all right. The only thing I don't like about it is the separate passenger's cock-pit. My Arrow Pursuit had a companion cock-pit." "You can always talk to your passenger through the speaking-tube," the salesman reminded her. "Yes, of course----" "And nobody you take along now-a-days will be as talkative as I always was on our trips together," Louise observed, with a smile. "Talkative!" repeated Linda, "All you ever wanted to do was sleep! Every time I looked at you on that flight to Canada, you were peacefully dozing!" "And she still has a bad habit of dropping off," teased Ted. "So long as that's the only way I 'drop off,' I'm satisfied," concluded Louise. In spite of their frivolous talk, Linda had been thinking seriously about the autogiro, and had entirely made up her mind about it. "I'll take it," she announced. "If you surely approve of it, Ted." "I do, absolutely." The salesman looked at her in amazement. Never had he made such an easy sale before. But he did not meet people like Linda Carlton every day! "Don't you want to try it out?" he suggested. "I can show you how to fly it in a few minutes." "I have flown one before," she told him. "But I would like to take it up for a few minutes if you don't mind. Am I to have this particular one? I have a certified check in payment." The salesman blinked his eyes in further consternation. The check right there, the girl ready to take the plane home with her! It was a moment before he could catch his breath. "Of course," he finally managed to answer. "I'll have her started for you immediately. And--would your friends care to go up with you?" "Sure!" exclaimed Ted. "We're your best friends, aren't we, Linda? So oughtn't we to be privileged with the first ride?" "You certainly are!" replied the famous aviatrix, squeezing Louise's hand in her excitement and delight. "Come on!" It was the Mackays' first flight in an autogiro, and though they were very much crowded in the passenger's cock-pit, they insisted that that only added to the fun. With a sureness which Ted watched in admiration, Linda took off and flew round and round the field, putting the new plane through all sorts of tests, proving conclusively that all the claims for it were well-founded. Fifteen minutes later they came slowly down to earth, landing on the exact spot from which Linda had taken off. "Unscramble yourselves!" she cried to her passengers, as she climbed out of the cock-pit. "Let's go pay our bill." "She's great, Linda!" approved Louise, as her husband helped her out. "I'm for her, even if she is a funny-looking bug." "Sh!" cautioned Linda, solemnly. "You might hurt her feelings. She's--she's--a lady!" "Ladybug!" exclaimed Louise, with a sudden burst of inspiration. "Ladybug is right!" agreed her chum enthusiastically. "You've named her for me, Lou!" CHAPTER II _The Aviation Job_ "It's marvelous!" exclaimed Linda, as the salesman came to meet her after her test-flight in the autogiro. "Will you have her filled with gas and oil, while I sign the contract? I'll take her with me." The salesman smiled at Ted Mackay. "In the same way any other woman would buy a hat," he remarked, to Louise's amusement. "You found it easy to fly, Miss Carlton?" he inquired. "Wonderful!" she replied. "So simple that a child could almost do it! It certainly is the plane of the future, or of the present, I should say." "We'll probably see one perched on everybody's roof within the next five years," teased Louise, although in reality she shared her chum's admiration for it. While the mechanics gave the autogiro a thorough inspection, the little group strolled to the office to sign the papers and to meet the president of the company. The salesman introduced Mr. Pitcairn, and added, proudly, "This is _the_ Miss Carlton, of world-wide fame! The only woman who ever flew the Atlantic alone! And I have had the honor, to sell Miss Carlton an autogiro!" Linda blushed as she shook hands, and her eyelids fluttered in embarrassment. She could never get used to public admiration. Immediately she began to talk about her new possession. "I want it for every-day flying," she explained. "I think it will be wonderful for that." "We believe that it is," agreed the older man. "And we are honored indeed, Miss Carlton, that you have chosen it. It will be a feather in our cap." "Miss Carlton never thinks of things like that," remarked Louise. "But I guess we're glad that she doesn't!" While Linda signed the necessary papers, and handed her check to the salesman, the president inquired what her plans included now that she had graduated from the Ground School with such success. "I don't exactly know," she replied. "I want to get some kind of aviation job--I am more interested in the use of planes in every-day life than I am in races and spectacular events, though I understand that these have their place. Of course I haven't found anything to do yet, but I mean to try." "You expect to give your whole time to flying?" asked the other. He had thought, naturally, that a girl in Linda Carlton's circumstances would just do it for sport. "Yes--a regular full-time job. I'm not sure what--not selling planes, for I don't believe I'd care for that. And not the mail--unless I can't get anything else. You don't happen to know of any openings, do you, Mr. Pitcairn?" "Let me see," he said. "Things are a little slow now. Of course there are the air-transportation companies, but their routes are about as cut-and-dried as the mail pilot's.... I take it you would rather have a little more excitement.... There's crop dusting, during the summer. You have heard of that, no doubt?" "Yes, I have read about it." "You know, then, that one plane flying over a field can spray as many plants in a day as a hundred of the ordinary spraying machines?" His listeners gasped in astonishment. What marvelous advances in progress aviation was bringing about! "I happen to know of a company in the South that is just forming," he continued. "Because of lack of capital, they are in great need of pilots with planes of their own. If you are interested, I am sure they would be glad to take you on." "That sounds very interesting," agreed Linda, eagerly. "I'm sure I'd like that. And an autogiro ought to be especially adapted for this kind of thing. I could fly so low--and land so easily----" "Exactly! Incidentally, you'd be doing our company a big favor by showing the public new uses for an autogiro. If Miss Carlton, of international reputation, flies anywhere, the account of it is sure to be in the newspapers!" "I wouldn't count too much on that, Mr. Pitcairn," protested Linda, modestly. "I really am not 'news' any more.... But I shall be grateful for the name of this firm, if you will write it down for me. Where is it located?" "In Georgia--the southern part," he informed her. "Here is the address," he added, handing her a card. "And I will write myself today to tell them of their good fortune!" "Georgia!" repeated Louise. "It's going to be awfully hot there, Linda. Compared with Green Falls--or even Spring City." "Why not pick a job in Canada?" suggested Ted. "You'd like Canada, if you didn't choose the coldest part of the year to visit it." Louise shuddered at the memory of their adventure during the preceding Christmas holidays. "I never want to see Canada again!" she said. "And I don't believe Linda does either!" It was not the memory of that cold night in the Canadian woods, or of the cruelty of the police, however, that made Linda frown and hesitate now. Nor did the heat of the South trouble her--weather was all in the day's work to her. But the thought of the distance between Georgia and Ohio, and what such a separation might mean to her Aunt Emily, deterred her from accepting the offer immediately. It hardly seemed right to be away all winter and spring, and then to go far off again in the summer. "Would I have to promise to do this all summer, if I took it on?" she inquired. "No, certainly not. A month would be enough, for the first time. That would give you August with your family, Miss Carlton, before you accepted a regular aviation job in the fall." This sounded much better to Linda, and she promised to write within the nest week, if her father agreed. It was lots of fun riding back to Spring City in her autogiro the following day, although she flew alone, for Louise wanted to return with Ted. Without a mishap of any kind she brought the "Ladybug" down on the field behind her house. When she entered her home, she found that her father had arrived during her absence. He was waiting for her in the library. "Daddy!" she cried, joyfully, for Mr. Carlton's visits were always a pleasant surprise to his only child. "You came at just the right time! Come out and see my Bug!" "Must you call it that, Linda?" asked her Aunt Emily, who, like all good housekeepers detested every sort of insect. Linda laughed. "Take a look at it, Aunt Emily, and see whether you could think of a better name." Miss Carlton peered through the screen door. "Where is it?" she asked. "Come out on the porch, and you can see it," replied Linda. Dragging her father and her aunt each by a hand, she gleefully skipped through the door. "There!" she cried, as one who displays a marvel. At the top of the hill, on the field behind the lovely Colonial house, they saw the new possession. Or rather, the top of the autogiro, for it was not wholly visible. "It looks like a clothes-dryer to me," remarked Miss Carlton. "Or a wind-mill." "But you agree that I couldn't call it my 'Clothes-dryer,' or my 'Wind-mill,' don't you, Aunt Emily? The words are too long. Besides, Lou thought of the cleverest name--the 'Ladybug.' But you needn't worry, Auntie, she won't ever creep into your spotless house!" "I should hope not!" "In a way, Emily," observed Linda's father, "it's a good name as far as you are concerned. You hate planes--and you hate bugs!" "Only, Aunt Emily is going to love my autogiro," insisted Linda, putting her arm affectionately about the older woman, who had been the only mother she had ever known. "One of my biggest reasons for choosing an autogiro was because it is the safest flying machine known." Her tone grew soft, so low that her father could not hear, and she added, with her head turned aside, "I do want you to know that I care about your feelings, Aunt Emily." Miss Carlton's eyes grew misty; Linda had always been so sweet, so thoughtful! Her niece couldn't help it, if she had a marvelous brain, and a mechanical mind. No wonder she wanted to use them! "It's going to be the ambition of my life to convert Aunt Emily to flying," she announced, in a gay tone. "See if I don't, Daddy!" "I hope so," he said. "How about taking me up for a little fly?" "A fly?" repeated Linda, playfully. "You a fly--and my new plane a bug! Oh, think of poor Aunt Emily!" "Now, Linda, I do believe you're getting silly!" But already she was pulling her father down the steps, eager to show off her beloved possession. Mr. Carlton proved almost as enthusiastic as his daughter about it. When they returned to the house, he laughingly told his sister that he was thinking of buying one for himself, to use to fly back and forth from New York, where his business was located. Miss Carlton groaned. "Then we'll have two flying maniacs in the house!" she exclaimed. "No--Linda and I will usually be up in the air," he corrected, "not often in the house." Linda had scarcely time to change from her flyer's suit into an afternoon dress, and no chance at all to talk with her father about Mr. Pitcairn's suggestion about a job, when Ralph Clavering drove over to see her. Linda was delighted, of course; here was another person to whom she could display her autogiro. Ralph was a licensed pilot, too, although with him flying was only a secondary interest, and he had never had his own plane. "Come out and see my 'Ladybug'!" she insisted. "And wouldn't you like to try her out? I might let you!" "No, thanks, Linda--I'd be sure to do something wrong. Besides, I'd rather talk to you--those things make such an infernal noise. No, just show it to me, and then let's go and have a game of tennis before supper, if you're not too tired." "I've almost forgotten how to play," replied the girl. "But I'll try. If you will come out and see my 'Ladybug' first." After they had examined the autogiro, and were driving to the Country Club in Ralph's roadster, the young man turned the conversation to the topic of vacation at Green Falls, the resort at which Linda's aunt, and most of her friends, had spent the preceding summer. Ralph told Linda about a new motor boat that he was getting, and spoke of the contests in all sorts of sports that would be repeated this year. "How soon do you think you can get off, Linda?" he concluded eagerly. "Not till August, I'm afraid," she replied, to his dismay. "August!" he repeated, in horror. "You're not going to pull some new stunt on us, are you, Linda? Fly the Pacific--or the Arctic Ocean?" The girl laughed, and shook her head. "I'm through with stunts for a while, Ralph--you needn't worry about that. No; what I am planning now is steady work. I expect to take a job, as soon as Kit's wedding is over." "A job? Where?" "In Georgia, probably." She went into details about the proposition. "You would!" he muttered, sulkily. "And pick out such a hot spot, that nobody would want to go with you.... Linda, why can't you be sensible like other girls--like my sister Kit, for instance?" "Kit?" "Yes. And get married." He leaned over hopefully, and put his hand on her arm. Now that Linda had accomplished her ambition in flying the Atlantic, perhaps she would be willing to settle down to marriage and a normal life. But she drew away, smiling. "Don't, Ralph!" she warned him. "Remember that you promised me you wouldn't ask me till you had finished college." "All right, all right," he muttered, irritably, resolving that he wouldn't again. Let her wait awhile! She'd probably get tired of working after she'd had a taste of it for a month in that hot climate. They met Dot Crowley and Jim Valier at the tennis courts, and doubled up with them for a couple of sets. But they were badly beaten, for these two were the best team at the Club. After dinner that evening Linda had a chance to tell her father and her aunt of her proposed plan for the coming month, and won their consent, when she announced her intention of spending August at Green Falls. To Miss Carlton she put the all-important question of clothes; the older woman promised to get her half a dozen flyer's suits of linen for the trip. During the next week Linda accepted enough invitations to satisfy even her Aunt Emily, and she wore one new dress after another, and flitted from tennis match or picnic to tea or dance, as the program happened to be. The grand finale was Kitty's wedding, at the girl's beautiful home just outside of Spring City. It was a gorgeous affair, and Linda could not help thinking how Bess Hulbert, the Lieutenant's sister, would have enjoyed it, had she not given her life in the attempt to win the big prize which Linda herself had captured. Personally, she did not like the affair nearly so much as Louise's simple wedding at Easter. Linda was quiet as she drove home beside her Aunt Emily in the limousine. She could not help wondering whether this event did not mark the end of her girlhood, the beginning of her career as a self-supporting woman--out in the world. No longer would she be free to come and go as she liked, to see her old friends at any and all hours of the day and evening. The thought was a little saddening, and she sighed. Her aunt laid her hand over her niece's. "Why the sigh, dear?" she inquired. "Tired?" Linda nodded. "Yes--and weddings are so solemn--so sort of sad, aren't they, Auntie? To the other people, I mean--for of course there's nothing sad about Kit and Tom. But it means I won't see them much----" "It isn't their wedding that causes that, dear," Miss Carlton reminded her. "Kitty and Tom will be back and forth often, I think, for they are not living far away.... But it's you who are leaving the rest, Linda. Oh, if you only wouldn't go so far away, dear!" "I guess you're right, Aunt Emily," admitted the other. "But I can't have my cake and eat it too. There isn't any flying job in Spring City." Miss Carlton was silent; there was no use in going over the old argument. Instead, she asked: "How soon do you go, Linda?" "Tomorrow--if the weather is good. I received my map and my instructions several days ago. I'm all ready. The Ladybug's in perfect shape." "If you only didn't have to go alone!" sighed the older woman. "Yes. If I only had Lou!" "Couldn't you take some other girl?" "As a matter of fact, I did suggest such a thing to Dot Crowley. She's competent, you know--has her pilot's license--and she's such a peach of a girl. I know we'd get along beautifully together. But she's all tied up with a tennis match, and can't possibly leave now." Little did Linda think, as she took off the following morning in the bright June sunshine, how deeply she was to regret this decision of Dot's, how she was to wish a hundred times within the next week that she had some companion who was a friend. For the people she fell among proved to be the worst sort of associates. CHAPTER III _Kidnapped_ As there was no particular hurry about the trip South--it was only June twentieth--Linda decided to go slowly and to stop often. What a marvelous way to see the country, at the most beautiful time of the year! In an autogiro the flight would never become monotonous, for she could fly low enough to watch the landscape. Ohio--Kentucky--Tennessee--Georgia! Each day she could travel through a different state, putting up each night at a hotel. Fortunately her Aunt Emily had given up worrying about her staying alone in strange cities. For Linda had already proved herself capable of taking care of herself. "It is because Linda is always so dignified," Mr. Carlton had remarked to his sister. "The girls who make chance acquaintances, and permit familiarities are usually looking for it. Linda's mind is on her plane--on her navigation--and she is too absorbed to be bothered. I think we are safe, Emily, in trusting her." "I suppose so," Miss Carlton had agreed. "Though of course she'll always be a little girl to me." The day after the wedding was warm and the skies were clear; the Ladybug was in perfect condition, and her forty gallon tank was filled with gasoline, so Linda decided to carry out her plan. While her Aunt Emily packed her lunch basket and a box with an emergency supply of food, the girl called Miss Hawkins on the telephone as she had promised. "But don't put it into the paper until after I start," begged Linda. "I always like to slip off quietly, without any fuss." "I'll save it for the evening editions," agreed the reporter. "And then you'll be well on your way.... And, thank you again, Miss Carlton." An hour later she bade her aunt good-by, and was off. Heading her plane south-west, she would avoid the mountains in Kentucky, and pass over the blue-grass region, of which she had so often read. It was an ideal day for a flight, and her heart beat with the same exultation she had always felt when she was in the air; there was no feeling to compare with it on earth. Someone had said it was like being in love--but Linda Carlton had never been in love herself. For several hours this sense of joy possessed her; then, as noontime came, and she landed to eat her lunch, she suddenly grew lonely. If only Louise were with her! She sighed as she thought that from now on she would probably be traveling alone. It grew hotter in the afternoon as she progressed farther south, but her engine was functioning so beautifully that she hated to stop. Then the sun went down, and the coolness was so delightful after the heat that she continued on her course longer than she had planned, and did not land until she had crossed the border into Tennessee. There she followed a beacon light that led to an airport, and brought the Ladybug down to earth. No sooner had she brought the autogiro to a stop than a group of curious people surrounded her. "What do you-all call this?" drawled a big, good-natured looking man, with the typical Southern accent. "It's a new one on me." Linda smiled and explained, asking that the autogiro be housed for the night, and inquired her way to the hotel. "The hotel ain't so good," replied the man. "But I can direct you to a fine boarding-house." Everybody that Linda met in this little town was kindness itself. She found herself in a pleasant home, with a marvelous supper of real old-fashioned Southern cooking, all ready for her. It appeared to be the custom to eat late in the South; no one thought it strange that she should want her supper at nine o'clock. These good people's hospitality only served to strengthen her confidence in the fact that she was safe in traveling alone. For this reason the shock was all the greater for her when that trust was so rudely shaken later on during the trip. Linda liked the town so well that she decided to remain a day, and go over her Ladybug herself. For, she argued sensibly, if no one there had ever heard of an autogiro before, it stood to reason that there would be little chance of a competent inspection by anyone but herself. Although Miss Hawkins, the reporter, had published the facts concerning her trip that evening, the news had not reached this town in Tennessee immediately. It was not until the next day that the story was reprinted, and someone discovered that this stranger in the autogiro who was visiting them was Linda Carlton of international fame. Then the news spread like wild-fire about the town, and the band was gotten out to give the girl a royal welcome. It was hardly necessary, with all this celebration, to wire her aunt of her safe arrival in Tennessee; nevertheless Linda did so, as she had promised when she left home. Her next day's journey brought her across Tennessee, over the mountains where she had a chance to test her plane's climbing ability, and into Georgia. Here again she was received with hospitality. It seemed almost as if she were making a "good-will" flight, so delighted were the people to greet her and make her at home. A long flight lay ahead of her--across Georgia, the largest state in the southeast. Over the mountains in the northern part, across cotton and rice and sweet-potato plantations, towards the coast. The weather was hot and dry; she grew tired and thirsty, and the thought of her friends, enjoying the cool breezes at Green Falls made her envious for a while. But she carried plenty of water in her thermos flasks, and she reminded herself that she was having a more thrilling experience than they could possibly have. Tonight she could rest--and sleep. Her head ached and her body was weary, as she looked at her map and tried to find out just where she was from the land-marks. Dismay took hold of her as she realized that she must have gone off of her course--beyond her destination. The ground below appeared marshy, in many spots entirely covered with water, in which water-lilies and rushes grew in abundance. Where could she possibly be? Panic seized her as she realized that this was no place to land. Even an autogiro couldn't come down in a swamp. She circled around, and went back. If the light only held out until she reached some sort of level, hard ground! She thought of her flight over the ocean, when she had been so absolutely alone, and she felt the same desolation, the same fierce terror. Where was she? Where was she going? Wild-eyed, she studied her map. Then she located herself. This must be the Okefenokee Swamp, in the southeastern part of Georgia. That lonely, forsaken land, some parts of which had never been penetrated by a white man! Treacherous, dangerous ground, which would mean certain death if she attempted to land! Miles and miles of desolation, that only an Indian could safely explore! There was nothing to do but head the plane towards the west, in hope of passing over the swamp. The sun had set, and darkness was coming on, but Linda could still see the ground beneath her. The water grew scarcer, and trees--pine and cypress--here and there dotted the land. But still the earth looked marshy, too treacherous for a landing. A terrifying thought seized her when she remembered that she had not filled her gasoline tank that morning. Glancing at the indicator, she saw that she had only three gallons left. Would that be enough to take her out of this "trembling land," which was the meaning of the Indian word, "Okefenokee"? It was like a horrible night-mare, watching the decreasing gasoline supply, the fading light, and the trees and the swamp beneath her. Her breath came in gasps; the idea of death in a swamp was more horrible than that of drowning in the middle of the Atlantic, for the former would be a lingering torture. But at last to her delight she saw the trees widen, and a level stretch of dry sand below. This must be an island, she concluded, for she had read that there were half a dozen or so of these in the swamp, and that they were several miles in length. If this were true, she could land, and be safe for the night at least. She brought her autogiro lower, and with her flash-light and her glasses examined the ground. Yes, there was space enough for a landing, with a plane like hers. She uttered a gasp of relief. But she had rejoiced too soon, for when she lifted her eyes from the ground to the level of her plane she was startled breathless by the sight of another plane, which had come out of nowhere, apparently, and was rushing madly at her. As if it were actually aiming to crash into her! As if this were warfare, and the oncoming plane an enemy, intent upon her destruction! In that instant she realized that this was an old plane--possibly one of those abandoned by the Army--one that would not now pass inspection. No wonder it was tipping so strangely; it must be out of the pilot's control. Linda did the only thing possible, for she was too low to turn. She dropped gracefully to the ground, avoiding a tree by a few inches. Thank goodness, it was solid beneath her! The other plane was landing too, she observed, landing with a speed that was ten times that of the autogiro, in a space that was far too small. The inevitable occurred; Linda closed her eyes as she saw it about to crash. A terrifying thud followed; then a scream of fright--and Linda opened her eyes to see the plane on its side, nosed into a bank of bushes. Had it not been for that undergrowth, the wreck would have been far worse than it was. Linda had turned off her engine, and she jumped out of the autogiro immediately and rushed to the scene of the disaster. What a smash it was! No one would ever fly that plane again! Two people were lying tangled up in the wreckage, whether dead or alive Linda could not immediately tell. At her approach the man in the rear cock-pit opened his eyes and began to move his hands and legs. "Got a good knife, Linda?" he yelled, to the girl's profound astonishment. "I'll get one," she replied, wondering how he could possibly know her name. Or was he delirious, and thought he was talking to some other Linda? Hurrying back to her own plane she took out her thermos flasks and her tool-kit, and returned to the spot of the wreck. It was too dark now to see the men distinctly, until she turned on her flash-light. As she came closer, she saw that the man who had spoken was wriggling himself free. His face was scratched, blood was running down his hands, but he apparently was not seriously hurt. "Lucky this is an open plane," he muttered. "Now give me a hand, me girl!" Linda did not like his tone, but she could not refuse to help a human being in distress. Gradually he crawled out. "Now for Susie!" he announced, as he raised himself unsteadily on his legs. Linda gasped. Was the other occupant a woman? A thrill of relief passed over her, for she had been terrified at the idea of being alone with such a hard-looking man in this desolate spot. "A girl?" she stammered, pressing close to the plane. "Yeah. Me wife. Her name's Susie." Linda flashed the light under the wreckage of the plane, and distinguished a young woman in a flyer's suit. She was unconscious. Without another word they both set silently to work to disentangle her. At last they dragged her out--still unconscious. But she evidently was still alive, though the man remarked that her arm must be broken--and maybe an ankle or two. He seemed very matter-of-fact about it all. "What's in that flask?" he demanded abruptly, of Linda. "Water," she replied. "Water!" he snarled angrily. "Water!" He looked as if he meant to hit her, and Linda recoiled in terror. "Go hunt my flask in that wreck!" he commanded. "Do it yourself!" returned Linda, with sudden spirit. "How do I know that that plane won't burst into flames any minute?" She was surprised at her sudden display of independence; she had always depended upon Louise to stick up for their rights. But she had risen to the occasion, now that she was alone. The man started to swear, when suddenly the girl on the ground opened her eyes. "Take care, Slats!" she begged, to Linda's astonishment. "We'll need this girl and her plane--for I can't fly now!" The man called "Slats" subsided, and went over to the wreckage. Linda bent over the injured "Susie," and put the flask of water to her lips. Like the man's, the girl's face was scratched and bleeding, and she began to moan of the pain in her wrist. Her helmet had been pushed off, and her blond hair hung about her face. Her lips were painted a brighter red than even blood could have colored them. "Where are you hurt?" asked Linda, wiping the girl's face with her handkerchief, and pushing the hair out of her eyes. "My wrist, worst. And this ankle. And my back." "If I have enough gasoline, we'll take you to a hospital in my plane." "No! No!" cried the girl, in terror. "Why not?" questioned Linda. "You'll find out," replied the other, mysteriously, closing her eyes in pain. Linda had no way of guessing what she meant, so she sat waiting in silence until the man returned. Five minutes later he appeared with a tank of gasoline, and a flask of brandy, which he gave to his wife to drink. "We're ready to go now, Linda," he announced. "You can help me carry Susie over to your Bug." Again Linda started violently at the mention of her own name. "Do you really know me?" she asked. "Sure we do! You're Linda Carlton. Think you're about the smartest thing there is in the air today. Bought one of them new-fangled bugs. Ain't that right?" "Partly," admitted Linda, wincing at the slur in his remark. "But how could you possibly know?" "Because we are out to get you. Wasn't your story in all the newspapers, tellin' all about this trip of your'n? And ain't your Bug the easiest thing to spot in the air?" "Out to get me!" repeated Linda. "Do you mean that you wanted to kill me?" "No, lady. You're more use to us alive than dead--for a while, anyway. No. Our gang decided we could pick up a hundred grand easier by kidnapping you than by swiping jewelry. It was my idea!" He swelled with pride, believing himself exceedingly clever. "And that's what you get for wanting to have your picture and glories in the papers all the time!" Linda listened wild-eyed to this information, and edged closer to Susie, as if her only protection would be found in the girl. "So now these is your orders: You fly us to our camp tonight, and we'll keep you there. You can sleep with Susie. We won't hurt you, if you do what we tell you, and don't get fresh, or try to get away. Once you do that, we shoot. And believe me, I can aim--O.K. I've had a sight of practice in my business! I'm a mighty successful man--in my line." "And what is your line, outside of kidnapping?" asked Linda. "High-class robbery. Banks. Big jewels. We don't never hold up nobody on the street, for a few dollars. Too petty for us! Nope! We're big men. Slick! Clever! Ask Susie!" "Does Susie like all this?" "Sure she does. We winter in Europe, and South America, and she struts around with all the big dames, flashing diamonds and duds that make 'em all look pale.... Now come along!" It was useless to argue or talk any more, so Linda did as she was told, and together they got Susie into the passenger's cock-pit of the autogiro. Her husband sat with her, holding his pistol up threateningly at the back of Linda's head. "Go where I tell you!" he ordered. "I haven't much gas," she protested. "I've got an extra flask here. But I'm not pouring it in till we need it, which I don't think we will. The camp ain't far--on Black Jack Island." "Black Jack Island," Linda repeated to herself. "What an appropriate name!" She was terrified, of course, but there was nothing to do except follow directions, and in a few minutes she brought the plane down on the island that the man had specified. "Leave the Bug here, Linda," he commanded, as he lifted Susie out of the plane. "And go ahead of me, as I tell you." For several minutes the little procession made their way to the center of the island, over the white sand towards the cypress and pine trees that grew in greater profusion. Linda did not look back, but she knew that while "Slats" carried Susie with one arm, he kept his pistol at her back with his other hand. At last, by the aid of her flash-light, Linda spied several tents set up near together, and a welcome smell of food cooking greeted her as she advanced. "Stop here!" came the order. "This is where you spend the night!" CHAPTER IV _Captive_ Linda and her companions stopped in front of a large tent that was dimly lighted within by a lantern. Two men were standing inside--one bending over an oil cook-stove, the other at the door. "We got Linda!" announced "Slats" triumphantly. "Without even smashing her plane!" He pushed through the doorway, past the other man, and deposited Susie on a cot by the wall of the tent. The man at the stove, a big, fat, repulsive looking brute, turned around and uttered an ugly, "Hah!" "Susie hurt?" inquired the tall, thin man who had been standing at the edge of the tent. "Yeah. Crashed her plane. I've got some scratches meself, but I ain't whinin'!" "My ankle's broken!" sobbed Susie, unable to suffer any longer in silence. "Hurry up and get some bandages, Doc!" Linda, who had been standing perfectly still during this conversation, was startled by the use of the name "Doc." Was it possible that this man was a physician? If so, wouldn't he perhaps be above the level of the others--and might she not expect, if not sympathy, at least fair play from him? But "Slats" instantly shattered her hopes with his explanation. "This is the 'Doc,' Linda," he said. "We call him that because he fixes up all our aches and cuts for us. In a profession like our'n, it ain't safe to meddle with 'saw-bones' and hospitals. They keep records." Linda smiled at the idea of calling robbery a "profession," but she made no comment. "So long as you'll be with us fer a while," continued her captor, "I'll interduce you to everybody. That there cook is 'Beefy.' Ain't he a good ad for his own cookin'?" Linda nodded; she could hardly be expected to laugh at such a poor joke under the circumstances. "You can go over and wash--there's water in Susie's tent--if you want to, while the 'Doc' fixes Susie up. Then we'll eat." Glad to be alone for a moment, Linda stepped across to the tent which the man had indicated, hidden behind some pine trees a few yards away. Guiding herself by her flash-light, she found the entrance, and dropped down on a cot inside. Letting the light go off, she sat, dry-eyed and utterly hopeless, staring into the darkness. What terrible fate was hanging over her, she dared not imagine. Would they torture her, perhaps, if her father refused to raise the ransom, and called the police to his aid? In these last few hours she had learned to realize how infinitely crueler human-beings were than the elements of nature. The ice and snow, the cold winds of Canada, or the vast, trackless depths of the Atlantic could never bring about such untold agony as these fiends in human form. She almost wished that she had gone down, like Bess Hulbert, in the ocean, before she had lived to learn how evil men could be. A call from the mess-tent, as she supposed the larger one to be, aroused her from her unhappy meditations, and she hastily turned on the light and washed from a pitcher of water on a soap-box in Susie's tent. When she returned to the group, she found them already seated about a board table, plunging into the food like hungry animals. Susie, who sat with her bandaged ankle propped up on a box, was the only one who ate with any manners at all. But it had been a long time since Linda had tasted food, and she was too hungry to be deterred by the sight of "Beefy" putting his fingers into his plate. So she sat down next to Susie, and silently started to eat. She found the meal exceedingly good, and was surprised at her own appetite, for she hardly expected to be able to enjoy anything under the circumstances. The lantern threw a weird, ghastly light over the strange, ugly faces about her, and the silence was unbroken, except by the noise and clatter of eating. A tenseness took possession of her; she wished desperately that somebody would say something. It was exactly like a horrible dream, whose spell could not be destroyed. And still no one uttered a word until the meal was concluded. "You girls can go to bed now," Slats announced, finally. "I'll carry you over, Susie, and give you a gun, in case Linda tries to sneak off in the night." He smiled with vicious triumph. "I'm afraid that wouldn't do me any good," replied Linda, trying to make her voice sound normal. "I haven't an idea where I am." "On Black Jack Island, in the Okefenokee Swamp," he again told her. "With water all around you. Get that! You can't get away, without a boat or a plane. And I'm tellin' you now, I seen to it that your Bug's bone-dry!" With a conceited grin, he leaned over and picked up his wife so roughly that she cried out in pain. When they were alone, the girls took off some of their outer garments, and lay down on their cots. Linda longed to talk, but she was afraid to begin, for fear it would only lead to some sort of punishment. So she lay still, trying to forget her troubles, to believe everything would come out right in the end, when her father paid the ransom. She was just dozing off, when she was abruptly aroused by agonized sobs from her tent-mate. She sat up and asked her companion whether there was anything she could get her. But Susie did not answer; she continued to cry wildly like a child of six. "Oh, my ankle! My ankle!" she moaned. And then she used worse language than any Linda had ever heard--from man or woman. Linda was sorry for her, but she could not help contrasting this girl's cowardice in the face of physical pain with Dot Crowley's, when the latter had met with a similar accident, and had smiled bravely at the hurt. She thought, too, of Ted Mackay's courage in the hospital, and Susie suffered by the comparisons. "Is there anything I can do?" she asked, again. "No. Only take me to a _real_ doctor--or a hospital." "I'd be glad to, if your husband would let me fly my plane!" "Well, he won't!" There followed more oaths. "What does he care--so long as he ain't the one that's hurt?" She continued to cry hysterically, until a snarling order came from without the tent. "Shut up your noise!" bawled her husband, and Susie softened her sobbing. Linda lay very still, thinking. Dared she suggest that the other girl deceive her husband--or would she only be punished for such an idea? She decided to give it a try. "You must know where the men keep the gasoline," she whispered. "Wouldn't you rather have your ankle fixed right, and not run the chance of being a cripple for life?" "What do you mean?" demanded Susie, raising her head from her pillow. "I mean--wait till the men are asleep, and then you tell me where the gas is, and we'll sneak off. I'd take you to a hospital, and I'd promise never to tell on you." "And lose all that ransom money? Slats'd never forgive me!" "But what good's money, if you're a cripple?" countered Linda. "Yeah--I see what you mean," agreed Susie. "Only we'd never get away with it. They'd hear us gettin' out--remember I can't walk by myself.... No, Linda--it's no go." Disappointed, Linda dropped back on the cot, seeing that further argument was no use, and, fortunately, fell quickly asleep. Had she not been so tired, she would probably have been disturbed during the night, for Susie tossed and moaned without any regard for her companion. But Linda slept the sleep of exhaustion. Just as dawn was beginning to show a faint light through the door of the tent, Linda was rudely awakened by a gruff voice. Startled, she looked into the unpleasant face of Susie's husband, and she shuddered as she recalled where she was. The thought flashed into her mind that soldiers and criminals were usually shot at sunrise, and her hands shook with fear. What was the man going to do to her? "Get up, Linda!" he commanded. "You're working today." "Working?" "Yeah. Flying." "Where?" she demanded, with a trace of hope. If she were allowed to fly, there might be some hope of escape. "Across the swamp. To an island out in the ocean." "Oh!" An island! It sounded like imprisonment. She thought of Napoleon on St. Helena, and she remembered the stories of the cruelties to the French convicts, sentenced to die on an island. Terrible climate, probably, reeking with disease. A slow death that would be far greater torture than being shot--hours of lingering agony, when she would think of her father and her aunt, and of the suffering that she was causing them! And, worst of all, no one to rescue her, as Ted had twice saved her from disasters that were not half so dreadful! But she did not cry; she was disgusted with tears after the way that Susie had carried on the night before, over her sprained ankle. After all, it was no one else's fault that she had selected this job; she had taken it on, and she must see it through, no matter what the outcome. When she had washed and dressed, she walked over to the big tent, where she found breakfast ready. Bacon and eggs and coffee--and even oranges! Evidently they meant to feed her well--for this much she could be thankful. She ate in silence with the three men, for Slats did not carry Susie to the table. When they had finished, and the men were lighting their pipes, Slats pushed back his tin plate and began to talk. "Our idea in running you down was to get a neat little ransom, Linda," he repeated, with the same triumphant grin which she had grown to loathe. She winced, too, at each repetition of her first name, though there was no way that she could stop him from using it. "We figgered your old man could come across with a couple hundred thousand to get you back. When we get ready, we'll let him know. But in the meantime, we ain't ready." He winked knowingly at Beefy, and a cold shiver of fear crept over Linda. If they would only get the thing over quickly! Anything would be better than the awful suspense. The speaker laughed at her expression of terror. "Don't be scared, Linda. We ain't a goin' a hurt you.... It just happens we need you for a couple days in our business." "Your business?" she faltered. "Yeah. We got some jewelry right here in this tent worth about a hundred grand. We fly across to an island with it, where a steamer picks it up and gets it to our agent in South America." "But what has that to do with me?" asked Linda. Did they mean to leave her on the island, or send her to South America? "Just this: we're usin' your Bug and you as pilot fer the job. Susie's the only one of our gang can fly, and now she and the Jenny are busted, we'll use you. Get me?" Linda nodded, sadly. So she was to be made to play a criminal part in their ugly game! How she wished they would be caught! "And you needn't scheme to get away," Slats added. "Because I'll be right behind you, with me gun loaded!" Linda made no reply; after all there was nothing to be said. She must take his orders, or be instantly killed. "Ready now?" he inquired, satisfied with her silence. "We always work early in the day. Maybe you better come over with me and take a look at your plane, and I'll give you some gas. See if she's O.K." Dutifully Linda accompanied the man to the edge of the island, and there was the autogiro, safe and sound as ever--her only friend in the world, it seemed! She looked about her at the marshy water, the trees and vegetation of the swamp, and then up into the sky, which she searched vainly for an airplane. But except for the birds, there was no sign of life in that desolate, vast expanse of land and sky. Not a human habitation in sight! Desperately, she wished that she could think of some plan to outwit this lawless gang, but everything seemed hopeless, as long as Slats carried that pistol aimed at her head. So she meekly inspected the autogiro and climbed into the cock-pit. Her companion was in a good humor; he was enjoying the whole situation immensely, pleased at his own cleverness. He liked to fly, and he admired the autogiro; he even went so far as to say he believed he'd keep this one for Susie. Linda said nothing, but she was thinking what a mistake that would be for him to make. Much as she would hate to lose her autogiro, she realized that its possession would give the gang away to the police. It was one thing to steal jewelry and money, and another to take a plane, of a make of which there were only perhaps a hundred in existence. They flew over the trees, eastward to the prairie land, and then on through the coastal plain to the Atlantic Ocean. Whether they were crossing Florida or Georgia, Linda did not know, and for once she was not interested in the country. The sun rose as they came to the water, but that beautiful sight, too, made no impression upon the unhappy girl. Nothing but the sight of a plane or a boat--the promise of rescue--could have any meaning for her. On and on she went, leaving the land behind them, until finally they sighted an island possibly five miles out. The man behind her shouted to her to land, and she circled about, finally coming down on the beach. As she brought her autogiro to earth, she was once more impressed by the loneliness, the barrenness of it all. No habitation of any kind, not even a tent! Motionless she sat in the cock-pit, wondering whether she couldn't get away while this thief was unloading his treasure. Slats, however, was too wise for any such trick; he commanded Linda to get out of the plane, and help him carry a heavy box across the island where a growth of bushes concealed a hole in the ground, which was evidently the pre-arranged hiding-place. In silence they buried the treasure and returned to the autogiro. Retracing their course under his direction, Linda flew back to the encampment. Here they found the others finishing their lunch, and Susie was sitting with them, apparently much brighter and better, for she was laughing and talking to her companions. As Linda and her captor finished their meal, a stranger put in his stealthy appearance at the door of the tent. He was well-dressed, in riding-breeches, and clean-shaven. Linda's heart gave a wild bound of hope. Was it possible that this man was an officer of the law, and the criminals were caught? But Beefy's greeting to the visitor instantly dispelled her hopes. "Hello, Jake!" he exclaimed. "What's new?" "Everything ripe for tonight," announced the new-comer, briefly. "Ready to start now?" Slats stood up. "O.K. with me," he said. "Want some grub first, Jake?" "No--I just ate." The stranger turned smilingly to Linda. "And how's the most famous girl-pilot in the world?" Linda recoiled in horror. So he too knew all about the plot to catch her! Another member of this terrible gang! As she did not answer, he shrugged his shoulders. "Got the lines out about her yet?" he inquired, of the other men. "No," replied Slats. "We had a smash-up--wrecked Susie and the Jenny, so we'll need Linda to fly her plane for us till this job's over tonight. I'll give you the high sign when I'm ready to let her old man know." The four men stood together at the door of the tent. "We're leaving for a day--maybe two," Slats informed Linda. "But Susie's watching you, with a gun. And your plane's dry, so I wouldn't advise to try any get-away. There's swamps everywhere.... "So long...." A moment later the girls heard the men tramp away to the boat that the new-comer had brought to the edge of the island. CHAPTER V _Escape_ It was with a sigh of relief that Linda watched her captors disappear. Not that she had any hope of getting free--without gasoline--but at least she would not see those dreadful men for a few hours. Susie was not nearly so bad. "I hope you can cook," remarked the latter, surveying her bandaged ankle. "Oh, yes," replied Linda. "I've often camped out before." "Then we can enjoy ourselves for a while. I'm glad to get rid of that gang.... And, Linda--how 'bout if we be friends? No use making things worse by getting mad at _me_." "True," admitted Linda, though she wondered what she could possibly find in common with the other girl that might inspire friendship. Seeing a kettle of water steaming on the oilstove, she set herself to the task of washing the dishes. "Wish I could help," remarked Susie, in a friendly tone. "But after this there won't be so many dishes--for just the two of us." "When do you expect them back?" inquired her prisoner. "Tomorrow morning, probably. If they get their loot." "Suppose they get caught?" suggested Linda. "They won't. Don't worry! They've been planning this crack for months, and you can bet everything's all set just right. They never get caught." Linda sighed. It wasn't very promising. "Tell me how you got into a gang like this?" she asked, suddenly. "I fell for Slats," replied the other girl. "Thought he was a rich guy--he spent so much money on me. I was working as a clerk at an airport, and learning to fly. We ran off and got married." "But when you discovered that he wasn't straight, why didn't you leave him?" "Couldn't. He said he'd hunt me down, and 'bump me off,' if I did. And he meant it, too. Slats isn't afraid of anything.... I saw right away that he didn't want a wife, but a pilot, who'd do what he said.... The only fun I get out of it is in the winter, when we go to Europe or South America, and live like swells. Then he lets me spend all the money I want." "But doesn't it make you feel dreadful--at night, sometimes, or when you're alone--to think of leading such a wicked life?" "Now, Linda, be yourself!" answered Susie, flippantly. "No preaching! From you, or anybody else!" Linda turned away and completed her task in silence. What was the use of talking to a person like that? She knew now what was meant by the term "hard-boiled." If ever a word described anyone, that word described Susie. She wondered, as she worked, whether it would be worth-while to repeat her suggestion of the night before. Susie's ankle was so much better today that she would not be so eager to get to a real doctor. Still, there could be no harm in trying. "Wouldn't you like to go off in my autogiro today?" she inquired, without turning around. Her companion laughed bitterly. "Not a chance!" she replied. "Didn't you see Beefy take that big can to the boat with him? That was _gas_." "Oh!" exclaimed Linda, her hopes dashed to the ground. "You mean they don't trust you?" "They don't trust anybody!" announced the other girl, emphatically. "It don't pay--in a game like theirs." "Would you have gone with me?" inquired Linda. "If they hadn't taken it?" "I don't know. My ankle's better. But I'm sick and tired of Slats, though I guess I'd miss the cash and the excitement. And I guess I'd be too scared he'd get me in the end if I double-crossed him." Linda was silent. Now that this hope was frustrated, she must think of something else. Surely this was her chance of escape--with the men away, and her only companion a cripple. But the swamp--the dreadful swamp was all about her. How far into the depth of the Okefenokee she was, she did not know. It was all a vast unexplored wilderness to her. "Alive with snakes and wild animals, and alligators, I suppose," she mused. Yet nothing savage could be worse than those three fiends in human flesh who were holding her captive. She determined to face anything rather than them. Yes; she would run away, if it meant swimming the swamp! There was no use loading herself down with food, she concluded, for most of her trip would be through the water. She would stop at her plane and take out some chocolate, and her knife; thus lightly equipped, she would face the wilderness alone. "Linda," said Susie, interrupting these thoughts, "will you go to my tent and get me a magazine I have there? I think it's under the cot." Linda nodded, repressing a smile. She would go, but she would not come back! Stepping into the smaller tent, she dropped the flap, and picked up her flash-light. Then, raising the wall on the other side, she crept out through the trees to the edge of the island and circled about until she reached the autogiro. This would give her a few minutes extra before Susie should realize that she had gone. As she stood there beside her plane for a moment, wondering whether she would ever see it again, she had her first real sight of the Okefenokee Swamp from the ground. Cypress and slash pine trees grew in abundance, and heavy moss hung about. In the water all around her, she noticed rushes and water-lilies, and ferns grew everywhere in profusion. Beneath the surface, she could see thick vegetation; would this, she wondered, support her weight if she were to attempt to walk in it? In the afternoon sunlight the water, the trees, were perfectly still; except for the birds, the silence was profound. How desolate it was! Her wrist-watch informed her that it was already four o'clock. Five hours more, and darkness would come on, enveloping everything in a blackness such as a city-dweller never sees. Even the sky might be hidden by the trees, and the wild animals would be prowling stealthily about in search of food. She shuddered and hesitated. "But I have an even chance with the animals," she thought. "And with those thieves, I am sure to lose!" So valiantly, she stepped out into the water. The depth was not great at this point, and she discovered that, though the soft muck sunk beneath her feet, she could still make progress. The hard rains of July and August had not yet set in, and the "bays," as the stretches of shallow water were called, had not risen to any great height. Laboriously she waded onward, choosing a thick growth of trees in the distance as her goal. Surely, she thought, where the trees could grow there must be some dry land. If she could make that spot by nightfall, she could hide in their depths and sleep. Then tomorrow she could press on to the westward, and perhaps reach the end of the swamp. It was a slow, weary progress that she accomplished, and she had to pick her way carefully, measuring the depth of the water with a stick which she had cut from a pine on Black Jack Island, but she kept resolutely on until her watch registered seven o'clock. Then, all of a sudden, the stick sunk so deeply into the muck that she knew she would have to swim, and she hastily ate the chocolate which was to be her evening meal, and plunged forward to swim. As the time slowly passed, she watched Black Jack Island fading in the distance, and hope swelled in her heart. She was nearing land at last--perhaps only an island--but even if she were not out of the swamp, at least she would be away from her enemies. She smiled when she pictured the consternation and anger of the men at finding her gone. She swam on for some distance, now and then pausing to cut the grasses that became entangled about her legs. Her shoes were heavy, but she hated to take them off, for they were a help in the shallow water. After an hour of this exercise, she was utterly exhausted, and she looked about her in dismay. What if she should drown now, in the midst of her own country--after she had conquered the Atlantic Ocean successfully? The thought was absurd; she steeled herself to press forward, for she was coming nearer to that bank of trees. Surely, there lay safety! Had she but known it, she was now entering one of the so-called "Gator Roads" of the swamp--channels of water which the alligators followed. But it looked promising to the tired, hungry girl. The foliage was growing thicker now, and the water-way narrowing. Some distance on, the trees met overhead, and beautiful moss hung from their branches, shutting out the setting sunlight, and forming a lovely green bower. But Linda was scarcely conscious of this beauty, for she was breathing with difficulty, panting with fatigue. If she could only make that bank--where the land seemed firm! A big tree had fallen across the water, and she managed to reach it, and to cling to it for support while she rested. Her feet hung down in the muck, and she realized that the water was comparatively shallow. She wanted to laugh aloud in her relief. Pulling herself up by her hands, she decided to walk the log to the bank, and had just poised herself upon its rather perilous round surface, when she encountered the greatest shock in her life thus far. Not ten yards away, in the very water where she would have been now, had she not mounted the log--was an alligator, at least eight feet long! Brave as she was usually in the face of other dangers, she let out a piercing scream of terror at the sight of this horrible monster. "Now I've got to walk the log!" she thought. "It's death if I fall off!" She watched the alligator a minute or two while she regained her self-control, and made sure that he was not moving. Then, with eyes straight ahead, she started to walk the log. Once, toward the middle, she swayed, but it was only for a second. She straightened herself staunchly and marched on--to dry land. Oh, the joy of feeling her feet on firm ground again! To know that whatever misfortune might come on the morrow, she was safe for that night at least! She could not drown, or be tortured by enemies; her only danger would come from snakes. She would take the precaution to explore her sleeping-place thoroughly before she lay down. Weary as she was, she did not stop until she had gone farther into the island. The trees were denser here than they had been at Black Jack; it would be more difficult to land an autogiro, if by chance Susie should follow her. Nevertheless, she resolved to stay hidden as much as possible. Away from the shore, she finally dropped to the ground and took off her wet shoes and stockings. "Not that it will do me much good in the morning to start off dry," she thought bitterly. "But anyhow, I don't want to sleep in them." And then she removed her outer garments. "Wouldn't supper taste good!" she said aloud, envying Susie that well-filled larder at the camp. But Linda knew that there was no danger of her starving so soon, after that big noon-day meal, and she put the thought of food from her mind. Water she could not forget so easily. After half an hour's thirst, she decided to risk a drink from the swamp. Had she but known that the water of the Okefenokee is not poisonous, she would have enjoyed her drink more. The "peat" gives it a queer taste, but it is harmless. She was relieved, in her return to the water, to see that the alligator had gone--which way, she could not tell. Though she was desolately lonely in that vast abandoned wilderness, she did not care for the companionship of so ugly a beast! When she returned to the spot which she had selected for her camp, she took her knife from its wet case and cut a few stout sticks from a tree. With these she would explore the ground before she lay down, and keep them at her side while she slept, as some sort of protection from snakes. As with the water, however, Linda's fears regarding snakes proved unnecessary, for the report of a large number of these in the Okefenokee Swamp had been proved by hunters to have been exaggerated. As a matter of fact, Linda did not see one during her entire visit to the swamp. She waited until the daylight had faded, and darkness completely enveloped the landscape before she lay down to rest. The stars were still visible here and there through the trees, and, as upon the occasion of her lonely flight to Paris, they somehow seemed friendly. After an hour or so, she slipped off to sleep. Only once during that strange, desolate night did she awaken, and that was when something cold and wet suddenly touched her face. She started up fearfully, seizing a stick with one hand and her knife with the other, squinting her eyes for snakes. Her flash-light had of course been thrown away during her swim, so she could not immediately identify the enemy that had awakened her. She laughed out loud when she finally saw what it was. She had rolled over against her shoes, which were still cold and clammy with water! She went back to sleep again, and did not awaken until the sun was well up in the sky. She had no way of telling the exact time, for her watch refused to go after its bath in the swamp, but Linda judged from the sun that it must be nine o'clock at least. Her clothing was dry, at any rate, and her shoes only a little damp. But what a sight she was, she thought, after that long swim! She went down to the water's edge to wash, and to drink the water that must serve as her breakfast, and looked carefully about her--into the sky, and on the water--for the sight of her enemies. For she had no doubt that as soon as the thieves returned, they would go in search of her, believing that she could not have gotten far away. She was relieved to see nothing, no sign of human beings anywhere, and she paused to watch some wild birds fly past overhead. Everything was peaceful and quiet--like a Sunday morning in the country. It was hard to believe that wickedness existed in such a beautiful world. Then, abruptly, she noticed the soft swish of water not far away from her, and she looked up quickly, expecting to see the alligator again. In that awful second, her worst fears were realized. A canoe, with two men aboard, was coming straight towards her. The thieves! They had sighted her--they were wildly waving their arms. It was too late to hide! CHAPTER VI _The Enemy in the Autogiro_ Defeated, miserable, hopeless, Linda sank to the ground and buried her face in her hands, waiting for the dreaded approach of her enemies. Oh, the cruelty of fate, to deliver her to them again, after her superhuman effort to escape! Bitter tears rushed to her eyes, scalding her face, and she sat as one expecting death, listening to the rhythmic dip of the paddles, as the canoe came closer and closer. She kept her face hidden until the sound ceased, informing her thereby that the craft had stopped at her side. Tensely she waited for the harsh snarl of her captor's voice. But to her incredulous amazement, she heard instead the soft, deep, well-bred tones of a Southerner! "Can we be of any help to you, Miss?" inquired the speaker. Linda looked up instantly into the kind eyes of two exceedingly attractive young men. "Oh! Please!" she gasped, the tears still running from her eyes. "Yes, please!" And then, for the first time in her life, Linda Carlton fainted. When she came to, she was lying on the ground, with two strangers bending over her, one offering her water, and the other hot coffee from a thermos bottle. A warm glow of happiness surged over her as she realized that she was among real human beings--not animals, or criminals. Though not naturally impulsive, she longed to throw her arms about these boys and weep with gratitude. If they had been girls, she would not have hesitated a moment. Instead, she sat up and smiled her sweetest smile, so that, bedraggled as she was, she was still beautiful. The boys, man-like, each urged his particular offering upon her. "Put that coffee down, Hal!" commanded the tall, fair youth at her right. "A lady who has just fainted doesn't want coffee." "I do, though," Linda assured him. "I want water, and coffee--and anything else you have to eat. I fainted from hunger as much as from anything else." The boy called "Hal" looked pleased at her acceptance of his gift, and he hurried back to the canoe for some food. "Are you alone?" asked the other, who remained at Linda's side. "And how do you happen to be here?" "It's a long story," replied the girl, wondering just how much of it she had better tell. It was all so incredulous, that perhaps they wouldn't believe her if she did tell them. "First have some food," suggested the boy who had gone to the canoe. "How long has it been since you ate?" "Only yesterday noon--and I even had some chocolate about six o'clock. But after that I waded and swam from Black Jack Island to this place--whatever it is." "This is 'Billy's Island,'" the boys informed her. "Named after 'Billy Bowlegs,' the Indian who once lived here.... But, Great Guns!" exclaimed Hal, "that's five miles at least! Nobody ever tried to swim the Okefenokee Swamp before!" "Well, it seemed like twenty-five," remarked Linda. "And I hope nobody ever has to try it again." She did not go on with her story immediately, for she was too busy eating bananas--one right after another. Nothing had ever tasted so good! Meanwhile, the boys introduced themselves as Hal--short for Harold--Perry, and Jackson Carter, both Juniors at the University of Florida. "We're both on the archery team at college," Jackson explained. "And we take a little trip into the Okefenokee each summer, to try out our bows and arrows on the wild game here. We camp each night on one of the islands." "Then you know the Swamp pretty well," remarked Linda, with relief. They would be able to take her back to civilization. "The southern end of it--yes," replied Hal. "Now tell us who you are," urged Jackson Carter, regarding Linda with silent admiration. There was no doubt about it, she certainly was an attractive girl. Linda hesitated a moment, and determined not to mention her first name. She was tired of all the publicity and disaster which her ocean flight had brought her. Besides, these boys might think she was just posing as Linda Carlton, the famous aviatrix, in order to impress them. She would tell them only her middle name, instead. "I am Ann Carlton, from Ohio," she replied. "I was flying my new plane when I got lost over the swamp, and had to come down on the first dry land I saw, because my gas was running low, and I didn't know how far the water extended." "Smashed your plane?" inquired Hal, evidently satisfied with the explanation. "No. But unfortunately I fell among a gang of thieves, and they stole it, and tried to hold me prisoner on Black Jack Island. But yesterday I got away, as I told you." Both boys gazed at Linda in admiration and wonder. What a plucky girl she must be! "Thieves in the swamp!" repeated Hal. "Not Indians?--a lot of Indians used to live here, and they might have come back." "No. White men--and one girl. Regular thieves, the kind that rob banks and jewelry stores." "But what were they doing? Hiding from justice?" "I don't think so," answered Linda. "Because I don't think anybody suspects them in particular. They have a regular camp on Black Jack Island, and they bring whatever they steal there, and transfer it by airplane to an island in the Atlantic Ocean, where it's picked up by another partner in a boat." Jackson let out a whistle. "Pretty slick, aren't they? But they'll get caught sometime." "I sincerely hope so. Unfortunately, though, nobody could identify them as thieves, because they haven't been caught before." "You could," remarked Hal. "Yes, if I ever see them again. Do we have to pass Black Jack Island to get out of the swamp?" "I'm afraid so--but we needn't go very close to it--it's some distance from the regular 'Gator Road' we always follow." "'Gator Road'?" repeated Linda. "There aren't any roads in the swamp, are there?" "They're water channels," Hal explained. "Short for alligator-roads." Linda shuddered. "I saw an alligator last night," she told them. "I hope we don't meet any more." "You poor girl!" exclaimed Jackson. "It seems to me you've had most every dreadful experience anybody could have in the last twenty-four hours!" "But they're over now," laughed Linda, wondering what the boys would say if she told them the real account of the kidnapping. Even now Jackson Carter was looking at her strangely. She seemed like such a nice girl--but what sort of family could she have come from, that would allow her to roam around the country unchaperoned and alone? He himself was of an old-fashioned Southern family, who regarded such independence in young women as mere boldness. Yet Linda Carlton seemed anything but ill-bred, or bold. "Aren't your family worried about you, Miss Carlton?" he inquired. "So far away--in an airplane?" "They must be by now," she replied with a pang of distress. "I had promised to wire them every day--and it's been three nights now since I could. My aunt probably is afraid I have been killed." "Your aunt?" "Yes. My mother is dead, and my aunt has always taken care of me." "But she lets you do pretty much as you please I take it. You northern girls certainly are different." "Well, not exactly." Linda could not explain without telling the whole story of her life, so she decided to let the matter pass. "Hadn't we better be pushing on, if we expect to get out of the swamp before dark?" "Yes," replied Hal. "But don't set your heart on that, Miss Carlton. I don't know whether we can or not. But we'll get past Black Jack Island, and at least as far as Soldiers' Camp Island." "Soldiers' Camp Island?" repeated Linda. "Yes. The story goes that some Civil War soldiers deserted, and hid there. I don't know how true it is, but it certainly is a good place to hide." "Don't I know!" sighed Linda. They climbed into the canoe, putting Linda on some blankets in the center, and started upon their journey. For the first time since her visit to the swamp, Linda was at last able to enjoy its beauty. The thick ferns, the cypress trees growing in abundance, the pines and the water-lilies! What a difference a boat could make! Yesterday she hated the rushes and the moss; today she found everything lovely. Avoiding the island where the thieves were camped, the boys made a wide circle, and did not pass even in sight of it. With each mile of progress, Linda's spirits rose higher and higher, until finally she suggested that they sing. She just had to find some outlet for her joy and thanksgiving. "It must be long after noon," remarked Jackson, as they finished a familiar college song. "Hadn't we better eat?" "I see an island ahead--I think it's Soldiers' Camp," replied Hal. "Wouldn't it be nice to stop and make some coffee?" "I'm hot enough without any fire or hot coffee," returned Jackson, wiping the perspiration from his face. "But I would like to stretch my legs." "Let me do the cooking!" urged Linda, eagerly. "I'd love to prove some use to you, after all the trouble I've made." "You haven't been any trouble!" protested Jackson, whose admiration for Linda had been growing by leaps and bounds, in spite of the fact that he could not wholly approve of her. For the past three hours he had been sitting in the stern of the canoe, gazing at her lovely profile, listening to the charm of her soft voice. Yet he knew he had better not allow himself to care for this girl; she was just the type his mother disapproved of, and with Jackson Carter, his mother's wishes were supreme. They pulled up to the island and unloaded the canoe. There were all sorts of supplies--bacon, canned beans, fruit, and biscuits, as well as tea, coffee, sugar and canned milk. Even a little folding stove to set over a fire, and a coffee-pot. "What a perfectly delightful spot!" exclaimed Linda, as she walked some distance inland. "Look at these lovely little houses! Why, I could almost live in them myself!" What she referred to were the clumps, here and there, of cypress trees and overgrowing vines and evergreens, which, as a matter of fact, the hunters often used to camp in during their visits to the swamp. They were very attractive indeed, and would afford complete privacy, Linda thought, if she were obliged to spend another night in the Okefenokee. The boys made a fire on the edge of the water, and Linda insisted that they go off for half an hour while she prepared the meal. She laughed and sang as she toasted the dry biscuits and the bacon, and boiled the coffee. What fun it was to picnic when you were among friends--even if they were very new ones! When the boys came back, they each proudly displayed a wild goose, as proof of their ability with the bow and arrow. Then, like three happy, carefree school-children, they sat down to their meal, having forgotten all about the thieves for the time being. The shock was all the more terrible, therefore, when they suddenly looked up into the sky and saw the autogiro overhead. Linda was the first to identify the plane, to guess what danger they were in. She stumbled to her feet, pulling Jackson with her, and just as she opened her mouth to tell them to flee with her into the depths of the island, a shot rang out from the autogiro, and a bullet whizzed past the little group, so innocently enjoying their picnic! CHAPTER VII _The Smash-Up_ The robbery which was so carefully planned by the gang of thieves who had kidnapped Linda Carlton, was highly successful. One of the largest banks in Jacksonville was entered just before closing time on the afternoon of June 23rd by four masked robbers, who calmly took thousands of dollars in cash and securities, and escaped to a waiting car, without being identified or caught. By a secret route these men suddenly disappeared--whither, no one but Linda and Susie knew. By midnight they were back again in the swamp, and by dawn they had reached Black Jack Island. Exhausted from their journey, three of the men dropped down on their cots and fell instantly asleep. The fourth--Susie's husband--stopped to look into his wife's tent. Flashing the light inside, he peered through the doorway. There was Susie, sleeping peacefully on her cot. But the other bed was empty! "Susie!" he yelled in alarm. "Where's Linda?" The girl awakened abruptly, and sat up, blinking her eyes at the unexpected light. For a moment she could not think what he meant. Then she remembered her prisoner. "She's gone," she replied. "Beat it this afternoon." "How?" he demanded roughly, coming over and shaking her by the arm. Susie winced, and pulled herself free. "You leave me alone!" she warned him. "How do I know how Linda got away? Could I run after her?" "No, but you might 'ave watched her!" snarled Slats. "Didn't I tell you to?" "Watching wouldn't keep her here," retorted Susie. "Is her Bug still there?" he inquired. "Yeah. I hobbled over and took a look myself." "Oh, you did, did you?" Then, worn out and disappointed, Slats started to swear. Susie sat still, regarding him with contempt. How vulgar such language sounded, when you actually stopped and listened to it! She did not realize it at the time, but just the few hours which she had spent with Linda Carlton had given her a new view-point. Or rather, had brought back her training as a child, before she had "gone bad." When the man's anger had spent itself in violent words, he began to wonder how on earth Linda could have escaped. "No human being could get far in this here bog, without a boat or a plane!" he exclaimed. "She must be around here somewhere." "Why don't you go look for her!" demanded Susie, with a sneer. She was beginning to be glad that Linda had gotten away. Her husband turned on her savagely. "Look a here, Susie, if you helped that kid to get away--!" He held up his fist threateningly. "I'll make you sorry! Give you a dose of the medicine I was saving for Linda!" "What do you mean?" she demanded, trembling. "This gun!" he replied. "Well, I didn't," she hastened to assure him. "Linda slipped off when I wasn't watching.... But do you mean you were going to shoot Linda?" "Sure, you fool! That's what kidnappers always do. Bait the big fish till they get the cash, then kill the victim, and ship the corpse. If we sent Linda back alive, she'd have us in the Pen in no time. Our game'd be up." Susie shivered; she had not realized that the men had any intention of going to that end. True, Slats had once killed a bank messenger, but Susie always excused him on the ground of self-defense. "Hard-boiled" as she was, the idea of shooting an innocent girl like Linda Carlton was too much for her to approve. She felt suddenly sick with the horror of it all. Slats sat down for a moment on the empty cot, while he thought things over. Linda Carlton must not escape to tell the world of her experience and to give such accurate descriptions of the gang that they would have to be caught. Aside from the matter of the ransom which the kidnapping ought to bring them, they dared not let her go. The case called for immediate action. "Can you fly that Bug, Susie?" he demanded, abruptly breaking the silence. "I guess so," replied the girl. "They say they're easier than airplanes." "O.K. Then we're off. Get dressed as quick as you can." "But Slats," protested Susie, rubbing her injured ankle, "don't forget I've been hurt!" "Rats!" was his unsympathetic reply. "Get busy. I'll be getting the gas, and some grub. We'll need coffee--and a lot of it." Distasteful as the plan was, Susie could do nothing but obey. But she was feeling very miserable as she ate her breakfast, very sorry for the "poor, brave kid," as she called Linda, very resentful against her husband. The latter helped her down to the autogiro and put her into the pilot's cock-pit, where she sat for some minutes examining the controls. The dawn had changed into daylight, and the swamp was beautiful in the early morning sunrise. But, like Linda Carlton, Susie did not even notice it. Impatient at the delay, her husband demanded, "Got the idea how to run her?" "Sure," she replied, listlessly. "Start her up and climb in.... Where do you want to go!" "Circle all around--flying low, so that we can spot the kid if she's here. If we don't see her in the water, we'll stop at some of the islands, and look there. She can't 'ave got out of this swamp." "O.K.," agreed Susie. Without much difficulty the girl ran the autogiro along the edge of the island until it rose into the air. It was easy enough to keep it flying; the test would come when she had to make a landing. But Susie decided never to worry about anything until the time came. Luck was usually with her; her only serious crash had been the one of two days previous, and, after all, there was a reason for that. Slats, who spurned learning how to fly, because he considered his a master-mind, above such practical work, was, nevertheless, enjoying the ride. He congratulated himself upon his own cleverness in securing this new plane for the gang. "Like her, Susie?" he shouted, through the speaking-tube. The girl nodded, indifferently. "You can have her!" he announced, proudly, as if he were giving her a costly present of his own purchasing. Susie drew down the corners of her lips in scorn, but made no reply. Didn't he realize that she would never dare fly this autogiro where anyone could see her? That the police all over the country would be on the look-out for this very plane? She was understanding for the first time that money was not much use without freedom. As she sat in the cock-pit, silently thinking things over, she made up her mind not to try to help Slats in his search. She would have to continue to guide the plane, of course, for she never for one moment forgot the pistol that her husband kept ready to enforce his orders with. But she would not attempt to spot Linda, nor would she inform him if she did happen by chance to see the girl. No; it would be better to let "the poor kid" die by natural causes in the swamp than for her to be killed by Slats in cold-blooded murder. Over the trees and tropical plants of the swamp they continued to fly, until the sun rose directly overhead, and they knew that it was noon. All the while Slats kept his eyes glued to the ground, without any success. Not a sign of human life did he see. Movements in the swamp--yes--snakes and birds, and even an alligator--but no girl! Yet he felt sure that even if Linda were hiding, she would come out at the sound of the plane, for by this time she would realize that escape was impossible. Driven by the pangs of hunger, she would have to surrender to her fate. But noon passed, and they found no trace of her. Perhaps she was dead by this time, the man thought bitterly--killed by a snake, or drowned in the treacherous water! He would not mind that, if he could only find her dead body. Without it, without the assurance that she was not still at large, he dared not seek a reward. What a lot of money he would be losing! "We'll land on an island, and have some grub," he shouted to his companion. "Fly south to 'Soldiers' Camp.'" "O.K.," replied the girl, beginning to doubt her ability to make a landing. But she was afraid to disobey--and besides, they had to come down sometime. After that things happened with a rapidity that must have startled the peaceful bird-life in the Okefenokee Swamp. Approaching the island, Susie and her husband spotted the carefree picnic at the same moment, and the former made a sudden, sharp turn in the hope of hiding the sight from Slats. At the same instant, he took out his pistol and fired at the group--at Linda in particular--missing her only because of Susie's rapid change of the position of the plane. The sharp angle had its effect upon the pilot; she lurched over, striking her injured ankle against the rudder, swerving the plane violently to the other side. Panic-stricken, she tried to right the plane, but she had not even throttled the engine down to a landing speed. The inevitable crash followed. With an impact that was frightful, the autogiro headed for a tree with relentless speed, struck it and bounced thirty feet into the air. By some miracle Susie, crouched as she was in the cock-pit, was not thrown out, but her husband, who had not taken the precaution to wear a safety-belt, was bounced wildly into the air, and landed, face-downward, on a rock. During all this excitement, Linda and her companions stood tensely rooted to the spot, the girl gripping Jackson Carter's hand as if he were her one support. As the crash came, she dropped her head on his shoulder and moaned aloud, totally unconscious of the fact that the young man was still little more than a stranger to her. A cry from Susie aroused her to the fact that the girl was still alive. Ignoring the man who had brought about the catastrophe by his hasty shot, all three young people rushed to Susie's aid. The plane was only partially turned over; the rotor and the wheels were injured, and the nose smashed, but it did not look to Linda as if there had been any serious harm to the engine. Susie's head was cut, and two teeth were knocked out, but apparently no bones had been broken. Very carefully the boys lifted her from the cock-pit and laid her on the ground. "I have a first-aid kit in the canoe," said Hal, immediately. "I'll get it and fix up this cut. It doesn't seem awfully deep." "Does it hurt very much, Susie?" asked Linda, offering her a drink of water. "Not as much as my ankle. And my poor mouth! Without these teeth! My looks are ruined!" "No, they're not," answered Linda, comfortingly. "Any good dentist can fix you up so nobody will ever know the difference." Still no one said anything about the man who was lying so silently on the rock a dozen yards away. It was Hal Perry, returning from the canoe, who made the announcement which they had all been secretly expecting. "The man with the gun is dead," he said, quietly, not knowing how Susie would take the news. "So he got his at last," muttered the latter, with a certain grim satisfaction. "Nobody--not even his widow--is goin' to shed a single tear!" CHAPTER VIII _The Chief of Police_ Half an hour after the accident, Susie expressed a desire to eat, and Linda hastened to supply her with food. While the girl ate her lunch, the little group discussed their plans. "Is my bag still in the autogiro?" asked Linda, surveying the disreputable suit which she had worn for three days. What a relief it would be to get into clean clothing! "It was when we left," replied Susie. "If it didn't bounce out when we crashed.... Linda," she added apologetically, "I'm awful sorry about your plane. I--I--didn't mean to crack it up." "I know you didn't, Susie. I think it can be repaired, if we can get the new parts to this forsaken place. Probably we can--by airplane." Jackson Carter, who had been only half listening to this conversation, interrupted by telling the girls that he and Hal would take care of the burying of the criminal. "Unless," he added, turning to Susie, "you would want to take the body back to your home?" "We haven't any home," Susie admitted sadly. "And no friends, outside the gang.... No, it's better for him to lie here in this swamp--where he meant to plant Linda." The implication was lost to the boys, who did not know the story of the kidnapping, and who thought of Linda as "Ann." "Then first we'll help you get your bag out of the autogiro, Miss Carlton," offered Jackson. "You can go back into one of those little 'houses,' and change into clean clothing, if you want to, while we attend to the burying." "Wait a minute," urged Linda. "I think we ought to decide what we'll do about tonight. We can't all four get into that canoe, so Susie and I had better stay here, hadn't we? You could wire my aunt for me, couldn't you?" To Linda's amazement, before either of the boys had a chance to reply, Susie put in a protest. "It ain't safe for you to be here an hour more than you have to," she said. "Don't forget there's still three rough guys hot on your trail.... No, I'll stay alone, if you leave me some grub, and a blanket. You can come back for me when you bring somebody to fix your plane." This generous offer came as a complete surprise to Linda; she had not realized before that this girl had swung over to her side. What a splendid sign it was! Susie must have decided to cut free from these criminals, now that her husband was dead. "That's great of you, Susie," replied Linda. "And you needn't worry that I'll ever tell the authorities anything bad about you! I was afraid I oughtn't to leave you alone--but if you really don't mind----" The other girl shrugged her shoulders. "I'll get along O.K. I'm used to being left by myself. But don't stay away too long." The arrangements suited the boys perfectly, for they were anxious to be out of the swamp as soon as possible. With fast paddling, they ought to be able to reach a little town in Florida by dark, where they believed that they could hire an automobile to take them home. Fifteen minutes later Linda stepped out from the enclosure, dressed in a pale blue voile--the only dress she carried in her bag, for she had shipped her trunk to Atlanta, where she had expected to report for work. The wearing of clean clothing was a pleasure second only to that of using a comb and a tooth-brush. She felt like a different girl. If she had seemed pretty to Jackson Carter before, in that disheveled green linen suit, she was radiantly beautiful now. Returning from his gruesome task, he stood still, lost in admiration. Linda laughed at his amazement. "Do I look like another girl?" she inquired. "The same girl--glorified," he answered, with awe. Having unloaded the canoe of its food and blankets, and assured themselves that Susie was able to hobble around with the aid of a stick, the three young people pushed off. It was only three o'clock; all these occurrences--the crash, the death of the criminal, his burial--had taken place in less than two hours! For some time the boys paddled forward in silence, each of the three occupants of the canoe lost in his or her own thoughts. Hal was going over the exciting events of the last two hours; Jackson was thinking of Linda--or "Ann"--Carlton, and wondering whether her hiding her head on his shoulder had meant that she cared for him. Linda's mind, however, was occupied with the immediate future--with the part she might play in assisting the police to catch those arch criminals who were still at large. It was she who first broke the silence. "What would be the nearest large city to this southern end of the swamp?" she inquired. "Jacksonville, Florida," replied Hal, immediately. "That's where we both live." "Then that's where I want to go," announced Linda. "Have they a good police department?" "Best in the country," boasted Jackson.... "Miss Carlton," he added, "would you stay at our home while you are in the city?" "I'd love to," agreed the girl immediately. All through the South, until she had lost her way in the Okefenokee, she had met with this same southern hospitality, and had found it charming. Jackson Carter was overjoyed at her acceptance, yet he was a little fearful of the reception his mother would give to a girl who was so different from all his other friends. Surely, however, the older woman must see how fine Miss Carlton was, and accept her for her own lovely charm. The hours passed swiftly and the daylight was fast fading when the boys finally informed Linda that she was out of the swamp. With a prayer of thanksgiving, she gave it one last look, hardly able to believe her good fortune. Less than twenty-four hours ago, she had been miserably lost in its depths. Now she was free to live again in civilization, untortured by the fears that had held her in such terror for the last three days. Leaving the canoe in a boat-house on the bank of the small stream which they had been following out of the swamp, they walked to the nearest village and asked for the Post Office. Here Linda made arrangements to send a wire to her aunt, in which, however, she did not mention the fact that she had been kidnapped. "Have been lost in Okefenokee Swamp," she wrote. "But not hurt. Wire me at Jacksonville, Fla. Love--Linda." Her next move was to send for her trunk from Atlanta, and to wire for new parts for the autogiro, and while the boys looked up a place to eat supper, she bought a Jacksonville newspaper. She hoped there would be nothing in it about her, for she hated so much publicity. The first item that struck her eye was the announcement of the Jacksonville Bank robbery. More than a hundred thousand dollars had been stolen--in cash and securities--by four masked bandits on the afternoon of June twenty-third, and still no trace of them had been found. "That money must be at Black Jack Island," she thought, resolving to get this information to the police early the following day. She had to go through the paper twice before she found her own name. It was only a tiny notice, among the aviation briefs, and copied from an Ohio paper--stating the fact that Linda Carlton, world-famous aviatrix, had not been heard from for three days, and asking that the air-ports of Georgia report any sight of her autogiro. Linda breathed a sigh of relief, as she saw how inconspicuous this notice was. For some reason she did not want Jackson Carter or Hal Perry to connect her with the famous flyer, and she longed above everything to keep the story of the kidnapping from her aunt's ears. The boys came back with the information that they had found a place to eat, and took Linda to a little frame house where a widow ran a sort of restaurant. The cottage was run-down and out-of-repair, but everything inside was neat and clean, and the food, though plain, was excellent. "How long will it take us to get to Jacksonville?" inquired Linda, as they finished the meal. "Two or three hours," replied Hal. "Providing we have no mishaps. Why?" Linda repressed a sigh. She was very tired, and longed intensely for sleep in a real bed. These last two nights in the swamp had taken their toll of her vitality. "If only we had a plane!" she said. "It wouldn't do me any good," remarked Jackson. "I've never been in one--and I've promised my grandmother I won't fly until I'm twenty-one." "Oh, I'm so sorry," offered Linda, with genuine sympathy. Life without flying seemed a dreary thing to her. The only car which the boys had been able to hire was a dilapidated Ford that looked as if it would hardly last the trip. But it proved to be better than its appearance; over the lovely hard roads of Florida it traveled comparatively smoothly. To Linda's amazement, she found when they reached Jacksonville that she had slept most of the way. The short rest had freshened her considerably, and she suddenly decided to go to the Police Headquarters that night. It was her duty to report the crash of her plane, and the death of that criminal. She wished that she had thought to ask Susie his real name--she was going to feel rather silly calling him "Slats." With this purpose in mind, she asked Jackson what time it was. "Half-past nine," was his reply. "Why?" "Because I think I ought to report to the Police tonight about those thieves. I understand that it was a bank in Jacksonville that they robbed." "Which bank?" demanded the boy, excitedly. "'The First National,' the paper says." At this information, Jackson Carter dropped back in his seat and groaned. His mother's bank--where all of her money was kept! The bank of which his uncle was president! This was going to mean trouble to the whole Carter family. "Will you please take my bag to your house, and leave the address with me?" asked Linda, not knowing what Jackson was suffering. "I'll take a taxi out to your home, after I see the Chief of Police." "Yes, yes, of course," agreed the young man, still absorbed in his own thoughts. It was a late hour to visit the Chief of Police, but when Linda explained her reason to an officer at the City Hall, the latter sent for the chief immediately. When Captain Magee came in a few minutes later, Linda was impressed with his appearance and delighted with his dignified and courteous manner. She smiled at him confidently; how different he was from those officers of the law with whom she had come in contact in Canada! "I am going to tell you my whole story, if you will promise not to repeat the part about the kidnapping to the newspapers," she began. "I don't want my people at home to hear of that--for, after all, it is over now, and I am safe." "Kidnapping!" repeated the officer. "You don't mean to say that you have been kidnapped?" "Yes. My name is Linda Ann Carlton--I am the girl who flew the Atlantic in May." She blushed, for she hated to talk about herself, or to appear to boast about her own exploits, but this time it was necessary. "Here in Jacksonville, among friends, I am going to be known as Ann Carlton, because I want to avoid publicity." Her blue eyes became pleading, and she asked, in an almost child-like tone, "You won't tell on me, will you, Captain Magee?" He smiled. "No, I won't tell. Unless it becomes necessary." "Thank you so much! Well, to continue: I bought a new autogiro and flew down here to report to a company in Atlanta about a job spraying crops, and the newspapers printed the route of my flight. Early in the evening of June 22nd I lost my way over the Okefenokee Swamp, and finally landed on an island. A plane had been chasing me, as I later learned after it landed--or rather crashed--beside mine. The man in it held me at the point of a gun and compelled me to fly my autogiro to their camp on Black Jack Island, where I was to be held for a ransom. _That man was the chief of the gang of bandits that robbed the Jacksonville bank._" She paused a moment for breath, and the Captain leaned forward eagerly. The story, which might have seemed incredulous to an ordinary person, was perfectly believable to him. He was used to the ways of criminals. "But how did you get away?" he demanded. "I never should have, if it hadn't been for this bank robbery," she explained. "While the men went off, I escaped, and was picked up by a couple of Jacksonville boys in a canoe." Linda went on to relate the happenings of the afternoon, concluding with the death of the ring-leader of the gang, whom she knew only as "Slats." She spoke lightly of Susie, showing her merely as a weak pawn in her husband's hands. The criminals' method of disposing of their stolen valuables was another interesting point in her story, and she told Captain Magee about the barren island in the ocean. "Now whether this stuff is still on the island or at the camp," she concluded, "I don't know. But I am ready to go and help you find out." "You mean you are actually willing to go back into that swamp?" the officer asked. "To show us the way?" "Of course! That's why I came to you tonight. So that we can make arrangements for tomorrow." "But it may be very dangerous, Miss Carlton! These men will be armed, and will shoot at sight." "I'll take a chance. Can we go tomorrow morning? By plane?" "By airplane?" "Yes. Any other way would be too slow. They may have escaped already." "But an airplane will be so much noisier than a boat. They'll hear you coming." "We'll have to take that chance." She stood up. "If you will get a plane, Captain Magee--a large one--I will fly it, to save space. Then we can take two or three armed guards." "How do you know that you can fly any plane I happen to get, Miss Carlton?" he inquired, incredulously. "You see, I'm a transport pilot," she explained. "We have to be able to manage most anything.... Can you send a car out for me to the Carters' home, early in the morning?" She handed the Captain the address. "Yes. I'll telephone as soon as I can make all the arrangements," he agreed, seeing that he could not change her from her purpose. Linda thanked him and hurried out to the waiting taxi. It was growing late, long after ten o'clock, and she was anxious to be in bed. Jackson Carter himself came to the door when she rang the bell. "Where is your mother?" she asked, immediately, for there was no sign of a hostess inside. "She is ill," replied the young man. "The bad news about the bank--a great deal of our money was lost--knocked her terribly. She hasn't told grandmother, or it might kill her. So I had the maid get the guest room ready, and hope that you will excuse them both." Linda nodded; she had no way of knowing that Mrs. Carter had protested about entertaining this girl whom Jackson had "picked up" on his canoe trip, and had stubbornly refused to see her. The woman had worked herself into such a state of nerves over her losses and over this incident that she had actually made herself ill. "I'm so sorry," said Linda, sympathetically. "If I weren't so tired, I'd go to a hotel, for this is no time for your mother to be bothered with a guest. But I'll just stay tonight, and leave early tomorrow. I'm flying to the swamp again with the police officers." "Ann!" cried Jackson aghast, using her name unconsciously. "Don't, please! It's dangerous--you may be killed.... And, and, besides----" "Besides, what?" "Besides, it isn't done. You shouldn't go off to lonely places like that, without an older woman along." Linda smiled. "I can't be bothered with social codes at a time like this," she said. "I have to do all I can to get that money back. Think of the hundreds of people hurt by that bank robbery--if the bank is forced to close its doors! Including your own mother and grandmother! No, I just have to go." "Let me go instead," he suggested. "You wouldn't know just where the camp is. It's pretty well hidden, and I know the only spot where a landing is possible. Besides, you can't fly a plane." "You mean you will pilot the plane yourself? Your autogiro's broken." "Oh, it'll be another plane--a hired one. Now please don't argue any more, Mr. Carter--you sound like my aunt--and let me go to bed. And will you ask one of the servants to waken me at seven o'clock?" "Good night, then, Miss Carlton," he said, almost sorrowfully, for it seemed like the end of what might have been a wonderful friendship for Jackson Carter. CHAPTER IX _Two Prisoners_ Linda's telephone call came early the following morning, and after a simple breakfast served by the cook, she left in the car which Captain Magee sent. Not one of the Carter family appeared at the meal, and there was no message of any kind. Linda, however, attributed this to Mrs. Carter's illness, and wrote a polite note of thanks to her hostess. She found three plain-clothes men waiting for her at the police station, and they joined her in the car which then took them to the airport. A large cabin plane, capable of accommodating six persons, had been wheeled out on the runway, awaiting their arrival and two service men were standing beside it. "You are sure you can pilot her, Miss?" inquired one of these men, skeptically. Linda opened her bag and took out her two licenses--mechanic's and transport pilot's--and handed them to him. "A mechanic!" he exclaimed, in amazement. "Gee whiz! Will wonders never cease? It's the first time I ever laid eyes on a lady-mechanic!" Linda laughed. "May I look the plane over before we start?" she asked. "And will you map out the quickest course to Okefenokee Swamp! I want to get into the southern part of it--Black Jack Island, if you know where that is." With a grin the man disappeared to consult some one in the hangar, and Linda went ahead with the examination. "There ought to be plenty of room in here to bring back any prisoners we may get," she said, cheerfully. "I think too, that you had better send for some food and water, Sergeant--for we can't tell how long we may be gone." When she announced herself satisfied with the inspection, she and her three companions climbed into the cabin while the mechanic fired the engine. The plane taxied along the runway and rose gracefully into the air, to the admiration of the three officers, none of whom could fly. "You're there with the goods, Miss Carlton!" shouted the one named "Worth," who apparently was in charge of the expedition. "Don't praise me too soon," returned Linda. "That was child's play. But wait till it comes to landing on that island in the swamp. There is only one spot big enough, in a plane like this." "Well, we got plenty of gas," remarked Worth, cheerfully. "I'm not afraid. I'm enjoying the flight. It isn't every day that we go up in the skies on our job." Linda was enjoying it, too. She flew carefully, watching her map, her instruments, and the landscape below. They flew over the island where they had left Susie, and Linda made a mental note of the location, in case she should be able to pick the girl up on the return trip. It was difficult to keep her direction, for the swamp, covered as it was with grasses and trees, seemed like an unbroken, monotonous expanse from the air, but Linda had succeeded in spotting the little stream down which the boys had paddled the canoe, and she resolved to follow that to the place where they had picked her up. After that it ought to be easy to locate Black Jack Island and the camp of the thieves. But it was not as simple as she had hoped, even after she had located the island. Again and again she circled about, looking for a space large enough to make a landing. Finally she found what must be the edge of the island, for the water came up unevenly, but this beach appeared very small. It was one thing to bring the autogiro safely to earth in a place like this, and another to land a big plane. When she had selected her spot, she determined to try "fish-tailing." She glided with considerable speed toward her field; as she approached it, she swung her airplane from side to side, exposing the flat side of the plane's body to the air so as to kill the speed. Her companions, who had no idea what she was doing, looked at Linda in alarm. Had she lost control of the plane, and were they about to be dashed to pieces? But a glance at their pilot's calm, confident expression allayed their fears. This girl knew what she was doing! They need not be afraid. Often at the ground school she had been compelled to land on a given spot--such as a square of canvas; it was no wonder that she now felt sure of herself. A moment later she came down on the very mark that she had selected. "Pretty neat!" exclaimed Worth, in admiration. Linda turned off the engine and prepared to get out of the plane. But the Sergeant stopped her. "You stay in here, Miss Carlton!" he ordered. "This is no place for a girl." "But I have to show you where the camp is," she protested. "Then show us from here! And remember, too, that you are our pilot. If anything happened to you, we couldn't get out of this swamp." Linda saw the reasoning in this last argument, and agreed to remain inside of the cabin until she should be summoned. She sat there tensely, while the three men advanced cautiously towards the trees at the center of the island. They had not gone more than a dozen yards when a shot rang out from behind a tree, and a bullet whizzed past over their heads. A cry burst from Linda's lips, then an exclamation of relief at the assurance that her companions were unhurt. "So they're still here!" she thought, excitedly, clasping her hands so tightly together that they grew numb with the pressure. "Oh, if the men only get them without being shot!" The officers' pistols replied rapidly to the shot from the thieves, in such quick succession that Linda could almost imagine that she was in an actual war zone. But the volley lasted only a moment, for the thieves were short of bullets since "Slats'" disappearance, and before anyone was hurt, "Beefy" and "Jake" surrendered to Sergeant Worth. Watching the whole proceeding from the window of the plane, Linda drew a deep sigh of relief. Then suddenly she remembered the third member of the gang--the man nick-named "Doc." Where was he? Hiding in the background, waiting to shoot them all down when they were off guard? Cautiously, therefore, Linda leaned out of the side of the plane and called to Sergeant Worth to come back to her. Leaving the two thieves in charge of the other men, who instantly handcuffed them, Worth returned to the airplane, smiling over his easy victory. With his assistance Linda jumped out of the cabin and whispered her warning into his ear. The man scowled in disappointment. "This fellow may be waiting for you, Miss Carlton," he said. "You stay right here--behind the plane, while I go find out where he is." Linda did as she was told, expecting every moment to hear renewed shooting. "Where's your other man?" she heard Worth shout, as he approached the prisoners. "Gone!" snarled Jake. "Two of 'em sneaked off. Double-crossed us, and took the kale!" "Money? What money?" demanded Worth, instantly, hoping to surprise the man into a confession. "Nothin'. None of your business," muttered Jake, seeing that he had made a mistake by saying too much. "You needn't try to hide anything," remarked the officer, contemptuously. "We know all about the bank robbery--and other jobs, too--that you fellows can account for. You'll serve plenty of time!" Impatient at the delay, Linda felt that she had to be at the scene of action, to hear what had happened to the "Doc," who evidently was not on the island. She ran forward, just in time to hear Jake's explanation. "One fellow made off with the girl in the plane yesterday morning," he said. "The other guy must have beat it later on in the day--while us two was still asleep. Took the boat and the cash. We ain't got nothin' here of any value--outside of food.... Huh! Why, if there ain't Linda herself!" Angry as she was at this insolent manner of addressing her, Linda could not help smiling at the man's consternation. But she was terribly disappointed to learn that the money was gone. That meant that they had failed to accomplish the main purpose with which she had set out--to restore to the innocent bank depositors the savings which they had lost through no fault of their own. "Perhaps the money's over on the island in the ocean," she suggested hopefully. "I had to help bury some boxes of jewels there while I was a prisoner--and those may still be there, too. Shall we fly over immediately, Sergeant Worth?" "You know the way?" the latter inquired, in surprise. His admiration for this plucky girl was growing every minute. "Oh, yes, I think so. We can make these men direct us if I forget. They are sure to know." After a hasty search of Black Jack Island was completed--to make sure that the third man was not still in hiding--the party returned to the airplane, and Linda made ready to take off once more. This was an exceedingly difficult feat, with a large plane, but the experienced aviatrix calculated everything before she made the attempt, and the airplane left the ground at the exact time that she had planned. She directed it eastward now, out over the Georgia coast, on to the Atlantic. She remembered the course perfectly, spotting the identical island without any help from the prisoners, and landed on the wide barren beach without any difficulty. Once they were out of the plane she recalled even the hiding-place, where "Slats" had placed the jewels, and she led the way through the underbrush. Unrolling the stone, and pushing the sand aside at her direction, the detectives brought out the three tin boxes which Linda herself had been forced to help conceal. Opening them up right there by twisting the locks, the officers gazed at their contents in speechless amazement. Two diamond necklaces, a string of real pearls, innumerable rings and pins and watches. And a bracelet of priceless emeralds! "Whew!" exclaimed Sergeant Worth, the perspiration running down his face. "The Van Tyn diamonds!" declared one of the detectives. "And these pearls solve the mystery of that robbery at the Kenworthy estate!" "Yeah. And that big jewelry store in Atlanta!" added another, breathlessly. "Say, does this uncover a lot of money? I'll tell the world!" "It'll mean a nice little reward for Miss Carlton," remarked Sergeant Worth, with a smile. Linda shook her head. "No, I don't want it," she said. "If there is any reward, it can be divided among you men. You faced the guns!" "But Miss Carlton----" Linda held up her hand. "I mean it," she said. "If you can't use it yourselves, perhaps your wives--or your children can." "It would mean heaven to me," murmured one of the detectives--a quiet man, who had scarcely spoken during the entire flight. "My child needs an operation----" "Then it's settled," concluded Linda. Suddenly she glanced timidly at Sergeant Worth, almost as if she were about to ask a favor. "Could we eat, Sergeant?" she asked. "I'm so hungry." "Why of course!" replied the latter. "I'm sorry, I'd forgotten all about lunch--but it must be way past noon. Griggs," he added to one of his men, "you go and unload that basket." It was an oddly assorted group that sat down to that picnic lunch on the beach--the two thieves, the three police officers, and the slender, fair-haired girl in her linen flying suit. Linda could not help smiling to herself as she thought of what Jackson Carter's horror would be at her association with people like these. Yet how foolish he was! One look at Sergeant Worth's face, kindly as it was, assured her that she was well protected with him at her side. She wished that she might stop at Soldiers' Camp Island on the return trip, but it was out of her way, and already the plane was loaded to its capacity. So she mapped her return trip in a straight line back to the city of Jacksonville. Late that afternoon she landed at the airport, where the group separated, the detectives and the prisoners taking one taxi to the police station, Linda taking another to a hotel. It was only when she was quietly in her own room, with her bag unpacked, that she realized how tired she was. What a strain she had been through! How she longed for relaxation of some kind! If only she had Louise with her--or somebody else from Spring City! She rested for an hour before dinner, but the thought of eating alone was not pleasant, with only a newspaper for her companion. She brightened, however, when the idea came to her to call her Aunt Emily on the long-distance wire. It would mean a great deal to hear that dear, familiar voice. She did not have time after dinner to put in the call immediately, for just as she was leaving the dining-room, she was herself summoned to the telephone. Who could it be, she wondered. Nothing interesting, probably, for none of her friends knew where to get her. No doubt it was Captain Magee, congratulating her on the success of the afternoon. To her surprise, it was Jackson Carter who said, "Hello! "Can I drive in to the hotel to see you, Ann?" he asked. "How is your mother, Mr. Carter?" she inquired, instead of answering his question. "She's all right." "Am I to meet her?" The young man coughed in embarrassment. He would have liked to have kept the truth from her, but he could not lie to a girl like Linda Carlton, any more than he could lie to his mother. "I guess I better tell you, Ann--mother's old-fashioned--and--she doesn't approve of you. She says I may not invite you out here again. I'm awfully sorry--I've tried to make her understand-----" "Please don't bother," interrupted Linda, coolly. "Perhaps it is better that an acquaintance like ours end as casually as it started.... Good-by, Mr. Carter. And thank you again for rescuing me." "Ann! Ann! I can't let you go out of my life----" But she had quietly replaced the receiver. The tears came to her eyes, but she told herself that she was foolish. She would probably have to get used to things like this, if she meant to do a man's work in the world. It was worth it. Oh, the glorious feeling of power which she had experienced that morning when she stepped into that huge plane, and knew that she could control its flight! The satisfaction of conquering difficulties, solving problems, being of use to others as she had been today! Yes, it was worth all the snubs of every society woman in the United States! For a moment she sat beside the telephone, waiting to get control of herself, when she suddenly heard a beloved voice behind her. Two voices--three voices--then two pairs of arms around her neck! Dot Crowley's and Louise Mackay's--and Ted was standing behind them! "Oh!" she gasped, squeezing both girls at once. "Am I dreaming? It's too good to be true!" "Are you O.K., darling?" demanded Louise, kissing her chum again and again. "When we read about your long flight south, and then heard nothing of you for three days, we got worried. So we managed to hop off." "You angels!" cried Linda. "Oh, I might have known you would! When everything looked blackest----" "You mean about being lost in the Okefenokee Swamp?" "Worse than that.... Let me call Aunt Emily, while you get a room, and I'll tell you the whole story after that.... But first tell me how long you can stay." "Ted and I can only stay till tomorrow morning," replied Louise, "so long as you are all right. But Dot'll keep you company--she thought you might be lonely----" "That isn't half of it!" interrupted Linda. "I was so lonely tonight that I couldn't eat. I just felt sick. Worse, far worse than my flight to France, because that was over quickly, and this just seemed to stretch out interminably." "Now do call your Aunt," urged Dot. "She must be dying to hear from you--and we'll have you all evening. By the way, I'm rooming with you?" "Nowhere else in the world!" exclaimed Linda, giving the girl an extra hug in her joy. "Room 420--and I'll be there in a minute!" CHAPTER X _Susie Disappears_ When Linda entered her hotel bed-room after the conversation with her Aunt Emily over the long-distance wire, she found two pleasant surprises awaiting her. The first of these that she saw was her trunk, sent on from Atlanta. The second was a telegram from the Pitcairn Autogiro Company. Her new roommate, who was bending over her own suit-case, looked up expectantly. "Good news, Linda?" she inquired. "Splendid!" replied the other girl. "The parts for my 'Ladybug' have been shipped from Miami, where the company has some autogiros on exhibition. They'll be at the Jacksonville Airport tomorrow." "Then your Ladybug is damaged?" asked Dot, who had heard nothing of the story as yet, beyond the bare facts that had been in the newspapers. All that she had read was that Linda Carlton, famous aviatrix, who had been lost in the Okefenokee Swamp for several days, had turned up in Jacksonville, Florida. "Yes, quite a smash-up," answered Linda. "But I wasn't in it. Another girl was flying----" She stopped abruptly. "Wait till Lou and Ted are with us, Dot, so I can tell the story all at once. I'm rather fed up with it myself. I'd loads rather hear what you've been doing at Spring City." "O.K.," agreed her companion, cheerfully, and proceeded to report to Linda all the news that she could remember. "What I can't understand," remarked Linda, a few minutes later, as she unpacked her trunk and took a flowered chiffon which she decided to wear, "is how everyone finds me at this hotel. I didn't know where I'd be staying when I sent those telegrams yesterday." "I can answer that," replied Dot, immediately. "It's your friends at the City Hall. The Chief of Police there directed us. It was Ted's idea to go to him, for I never would have thought of it." "Ted knows that Lou and I have a failing for police stations and Court Houses," laughed Linda, recalling their experience in Canada the previous winter. Five minutes later the girls joined the young Mackays on a cool upper porch of the hotel, where they were able to be by themselves. It was then that Linda told her story, first extracting a promise from the group never to mention the kidnapping episode to anyone else, lest the news get back to her Aunt Emily. The other girls listened in amazement, now and then interrupting with exclamations of horror at the outrage of it all. Ted sat grimly silent, more angry than anyone. "And if you hadn't escaped, we probably shouldn't have gotten there in time," observed Louise. "To rescue you, I mean. Because of course they meant to kill you in the end." "Did you realize that at the time?" asked Dot. "Not exactly," replied Linda. "Though I really feared something much worse. I thought they would imprison me on that island in the ocean, and let me die of starvation. And I was horribly afraid of those men. I tried to keep with Susie until they went away." "It was that bank robbery that saved your life," remarked Louise. "And spelled ruin for them. If they hadn't been so greedy----" "Exactly!" exclaimed Linda. "That's one reason why I feel it's my solemn duty to try to catch the fourth man, and get that money back. I'm really the only person who could identify him--except Susie." "Do you honestly think she'll reform?" asked Dot. "I hope so. If those new parts for the autogiro really come tomorrow, we'll fly over and get her, Dot." "I'm crazy to see her," returned the latter. "And I'd enjoy going to the jail to see those two prisoners, and gloat over their punishment!" "Dot's as vindictive as I am!" joked Louise. "Remember all the dark futures I used to wish for Bess Hulbert?" "Poor Bess!" sighed Linda. "She certainly got hers----" Thinking that the girls had heard enough of Linda's unpleasant experiences, Ted interrupted them by suggesting that they all go somewhere and have something to eat. "If it's cool, I'm for it," agreed Louise, jumping up and putting her hand through her husband's arm. "You're not too tired, are you, Linda?" she inquired. "Not a bit!" protested the girl. "I feel like a new person since you three arrived.... There's a lovely screened tea-garden across the street that looks awfully attractive. Shall we go there?" Linda was right in her impression; the place was charming. Instead of the customary artificial flowers or tiny bouquets so often seen in restaurants, real rose-bushes showered their profusion of fragrance all about the edges of the screen garden. Surprisingly, every one was hungry; the three visitors because they had eaten only a light picnic supper, Linda because she had been too homesick to eat much alone. The food proved as delightful as the surroundings, and they all enjoyed it immensely. While Dot was, eating her ice, she noticed some people that she seemed to remember--sitting at a table in back of Linda. But she could not place them. "Linda," she said softly, "see that young man over there at that table back of you--to the right--with an older woman? Don't turn around now, he's staring at us.... He looks sort of familiar to me, and I'm positive I've seen that woman before. Do you know them, or are they people I have met at Palm Beach sometime, one of those winters when we went to Florida?" Linda waited a moment, and then casually turned her head in the direction which Dot had indicated. The boy was Jackson Carter! In relating her story of the rescue by the two boys in the canoe, Linda had not even mentioned their names, and had omitted entirely her visit to the Carter home. After her telephone conversation with Jackson this evening, she had decided to forget all about him. She noticed that Dot was smiling and nodding. "I remember her now," she explained. "A Mrs. Carter--she chummed a lot with mother at Palm Beach. And that's her son--he wasn't more than fourteen the last time I saw him.... I think I'll go over and speak to them." Linda flushed and tried to hide her embarrassment by talking to Louise and Ted about their flight. But Dot came back in a moment. "I've got an invitation for us, Linda!" she announced. "Finish your lemon ice, and come over and meet the Carters. All of you!" Linda hesitated. She did not know what to say. Evidently Jackson had not recognized her, or else was deliberately concealing the fact that he knew her. "All right," agreed Louise, rising and pulling Ted by the hand, for her youthful husband was still shy about meeting the people whom he termed the "four hundred." But his manners were as good as anyone's, and Louise was always proud of him. They stepped over to the table, Linda reluctantly following them. "Mrs. Carter, I want you to meet Mrs. Mackay--our chaperon." Dot winked slyly at Louise. "And Miss Linda Carlton, the famous aviatrix! And Mr. Mackay.... And this is Mr. Carter." The young people bowed in recognition of the introduction, but Jackson gave no sign that he had ever seen Linda before. "Mrs. Carter says that so long as our chaperon is leaving tomorrow, we must come over and stay at her house, Linda," Dot said. "You see, Mrs. Carter," she continued, turning to the older woman, "we're not so strict in the North about chaperons as you are here--but Linda's aunt would like to be. It really worries her to have her niece batting around alone in an airplane." Horribly embarrassed, her eyelids fluttering so that she could not see anybody distinctly, Linda tried to summon words to decline the invitation. It would be impossible for her to accept. "We'd love to have you, girls," Mrs. Carter assured them. "For as long as you can stay.... How I would enjoy seeing your mother, Dorothy! You must tell me all about her." "I'm awfully sorry," stammered Linda, still avoiding Jackson's eyes, "but I'm afraid we can't possibly make it. The fact is, I am expecting to get my autogiro tomorrow, and that will take us away from Jacksonville." "Bring it out to our place!" urged the young man, with the deepest pleading in his tone. It was the first time that he had spoken, and everybody was surprised at his eagerness. That is, everybody except Linda--who had heard the same pleading over the telephone a few hours before. His mother smiled approvingly. She was glad to see that her son was interested in Dorothy Crowley, for the Crowleys were wealthy people, of unquestionable social position. But, had she known it, Jackson did not even see Dot. He was lost in admiration of Linda--or Ann, as he thought of her. In her pale chiffon dress she looked absolutely ravishing. How could he ever have doubted that she was of good family? "No, thank you ever so much, but we can't possibly," Linda repeated. "We--or rather I--have work to do. Of course if Dot wants to go----" She looked at the other girl fearfully. How she would hate to lose her! Dot's reply, however, was reassuring. "No, Mrs. Carter, I must stick with Linda. It isn't often that my mother gives in and lets me go off like this, and I mean to take advantage of it Besides, there's adventure ahead!" Mrs. Carter sighed; these modern girls were beyond her comprehension. She was thankful that her only child was a boy. While Dot was saying good-by, explaining that the Mackays had to be up early in the morning, Jackson managed a whisper to Linda. "When can I see you, Ann? I just _must_!" Linda smiled; she was in command of herself again. She had won in a difficult situation. "Some time when we both winter at Palm Beach or Miami," she replied, lightly, as she nodded good-by to his mother. The young man's interest in Linda had not escaped Dot's notice. When they had left the restaurant, she remarked, teasingly: "You certainly made a hit, my dear. But I'm just as glad you turned down their invitation. The Carters have a marvelous home, I believe, but they're about 1890 vintage. They don't know that there was a War." "Well, we really haven't any time to lose," was her companion's reply. "I'm almost afraid now that Susie will be gone when we get to that island. And I'm in a hurry to help the police trace that other thief with the money." "Adventure is right!" laughed Dot, as the girls said good-by to Ted and Louise, and went to their room. The Mackays left soon after dawn the following morning, but Linda and Dot had decided to have a good sleep. They did not waken until after ten o'clock, when they heard the telephone ringing in their ears. It was Dot who answered it. "Oh, hello, Jackson!" she said, with a wink at Linda. "I used to call you by your first name, so I suppose I might as well now. How's everything?" "Just fine," replied the young man. "And Dot--may I speak to Miss Carlton?" "O.K.," answered the girl, holding the telephone towards Linda. "Not awake yet!" yawned Linda, burying her head in the pillow. "She says she's not awake yet," explained Dot, laughingly. "Better call later, Jackson--after we get some breakfast." Replacing the telephone, she turned to her roommate. "That big boy certainly fell for you, Linda!" she exclaimed, still unaware of the fact that Jackson had not met her for just the first time. "Well, I didn't fall for him," the other stated, firmly. "And Dot, please, from now on I'm not at home when he calls." Dot was surprised at this announcement; it was unlike Linda not to be friendly to everybody. Why had she taken such a dislike to a young man as handsome as Jackson Carter? "May I ask you a personal question, Linda?" she inquired. "Why certainly, Dot!" "Are you engaged to Ralph Clavering--and is that why you're turning other men away?" Linda laughed at the idea. "No, Dot--I'm not engaged to anybody. And I don't want to be. I want to be free for a while. But not from my girl-friends!" she added hastily, reaching over and giving Dot a hug. "Oh, Dot, if I could ever tell you what it meant to me to have you three breeze in last night! Honestly, I was awfully low." "It was Lou's idea," explained Dot. "I guess she thought you would be--so far away from everybody--even if you hadn't been in any difficulty." "Lou's a peach," observed Linda. They ordered a tray sent up to their room, and lingered lazily over their breakfast. Before they had finished the telephone rang again. This time it was the Jacksonville Airport, informing Linda that the new parts for her autogiro had arrived. "I'll have to hurry!" she said to Dot. "I don't want to lose a minute now." "Just what are your plans, Linda?" asked the other girl, as she, too, started to dress. "Go to the airport and have the parts for the Ladybug put into a plane. Then fly to Soldiers' Camp Island, taking another mechanic along. I'll help this man fix the autogiro--collect Susie--and fly back here." "You really believe you can fix it in one day?" "Yes, of course. Why not!" "Well," said Dot slowly, "I think if you don't mind, I'll stay here. You'll need all the space you can get in your plane to carry those parts to the wreck. And I'd be fearfully bored standing around while you work." "I guess you're right," agreed Linda. "It would be better for me to take two men--a pilot and a mechanic. Because I can't fly this hired plane back again--I'll have to pilot the Ladybug." "And you have to bring Susie too," Dot reminded her. Linda lost no time in getting ready, and she was pleased to have left the hotel before Jackson Carter had a chance to telephone again. She found a "repair" plane waiting for her at the airport, and she made note of the new parts for the autogiro that were already packed into it. Two men were prepared to go with her--one a pilot, the other a mechanic. For once in her life Linda was to ride as a passenger. The day was hot and dry, but over the swamp the air seemed cooler and fresher. The rainy season was late, everybody said; by this time of year the swamp was usually flooded. As the plane flew over the desolate expanse, Linda smiled to herself at the familiarity of the landscape. She was getting to be an authority on the Okefenokee Swamp; she never need fear again being lost in its southern part, at least. Although the pilot had a reliable map, he found Linda's directions helpful, and before noon they came down on Soldiers' Camp Island. The first thing that struck their notice was the autogiro, still leaning over on its side, looking pathetically helpless in its plight. But Susie was not in sight. While the men unloaded their tools and the new parts for the damaged plane, Linda went in search of the girl she had left there two days before. It was queer, she thought, that Susie had not come out to meet them at the sound of their motor. Was it possible that she was sick--or only asleep? The island was a comparatively large one, several miles in length, and Linda decided immediately to explore it. Susie might be waiting somewhere within its depths, helpless or hurt, if she had fallen on her injured ankle. It would be necessary to make a thorough search. Linda ran back to the autogiro to inquire whether the men needed her help, and explained what she was about to do. "We don't need you yet, Miss," replied the mechanic. "Later on, when she's almost finished, you can help me look her over, and take her up for a test." "By the way, Miss Carlton," put in the pilot, "did you think to bring any food for lunch? I only brought water." Linda shook her head regretfully. How could she have been so stupid? Had her excitement over regaining her autogiro destroyed all her common sense? "I'm awfully sorry," she said. "I just plain forgot! And I usually have some in the autogiro, but those thieves took it out.... Wait, though! There may be some on the island. We left a half a dozen cans with this girl." A search of the little "houses" farther in on the island revealed what she had been hoping for--the remainder of the supplies the boys had left with Susie, consisting of two cans of baked beans, tea, coffee, sugar and canned milk. This ought to be enough for their lunch, and she ran back immediately to the men with the good news. For the next two hours Linda searched the island diligently, calling Susie by name at frequent intervals. But no answer came in reply, and she found no trace of the girl. Susie had completely vanished. Weary and hungry she returned to the shore of the island where the men were working, and was delighted at the progress they had made. The job was almost finished. "I can't find the girl," she told them. "But I've collected enough fire-wood to cook our coffee and beans. We'll have our lunch in a little while." Two hours later the autogiro was finished, ready for its flight back to Jacksonville. The engine was running smoothly; Linda climbed into the cock-pit and took it up in the air for a test flight. She found everything satisfactory; dipping low, she gave the others the signal to leave. With her Ladybug in the lead, the two planes made record time back to Jacksonville. "She's as good as new," she told the mechanic joyfully, after both planes had landed, and she was paying her bill. "I wish I could fly her right over to my hotel." "I believe you almost could," remarked the man, admiringly. "Land her at the front entrance, like a taxi-cab!" "I'm afraid I'll have to take an ordinary cab," sighed Linda, spotting one out near the gate. "Thanks a lot--and good-by! I'm in a hurry to be back." It was after six when Linda ascended the steps of her hotel, and found Dot waiting for her on the porch, trying in vain to keep cool. "Where's Susie?" she demanded, immediately. "Gone!" replied Linda. "I searched the whole island carefully--but not a sign of her!" "Where could she go?" demanded Dot. "Do you 'spose some canoe picked her up--maybe those same boys that rescued you?" Linda shook her head. Not those boys, any way! "What I'm afraid of is that the fourth man of the gang--the only one who escaped, you know--picked her up in his boat." "Not so good--not so good," muttered her companion. "No, it isn't. Just when I thought Susie had reformed, too--and cut free from those criminals!" Linda uttered a deep sigh. "Well, let's forget her," suggested the other girl, cheerfully. "I've been waiting all afternoon to take you for a swim--so let's go, and have our dinner later. I understand there's a marvelous pool a couple of blocks away." Linda's face brightened. What could possibly be better on such a hot day! "Let's go!" she exclaimed. "Lead me to it." After her disappointment at losing Susie, and her strenuous day in the heat, the relaxation of swimming in the lovely out-door pool was exactly what Linda needed. The water was cool and refreshing, and the surroundings charming. For half an hour Linda swam lazily about, resting now and then on her back, occasionally mounting the board for a dive. At last she felt that she had had enough, and seated herself on the edge of the pool, dangling her feet in the water, and watching Dot perform all sorts of fancy dives, for the other girl was a real champion. "What a marvelous girl Dot is," Linda was thinking, when she was suddenly startled by the sound of a masculine voice, almost in her very ear. "Ann! Think of finding you here!" Linda squirmed a little, thinking that the man must have made a mistake in thinking she was some other girl. For the time being, she forgot all about her middle name. "Miss Carlton," insisted the voice. Turning about, she saw Jackson behind her, "How do you do?" she said, coolly. The young man became embarrassed at her manner. He did not know what to say. "Miss Crowley is a marvelous diver," he muttered, though it wasn't that that he wanted to talk about. "Yes, I think so," agreed Linda. There was a silence. The girl made no effort to be entertaining. "You really are the girl who flew across the ocean alone, and won that big prize?" he persisted. "Yes." Linda made a half-hearted gesture to repress a yawn. Jackson Carter needn't think he could buy her favor by flattery! "But why didn't you tell Hal and me that, when we found you in the swamp?" "It had no particular bearing on the subject, that I could see." "If my mother had known that----" "If your mother didn't wish to receive me at her home," interrupted Linda, "there was no reason in the world why she should. Everyone has a right to her own opinion!" "But now that we've been formally introduced, it's different," he urged. "Please tell me how long you'll be in Jacksonville." "We're leaving tomorrow," she said, rising. "And will you please excuse me--as I see Dot going to the dressing-room?" CHAPTER XI _The Island in the Ocean_ "I certainly am sorry we don't have Susie with us," remarked Dot, as the girls sat down to their late dinner that evening, after their refreshing swim. "I thought she'd be better than a 'talkie' for amusement." "Yes, you would have enjoyed her, Dot," agreed Linda, picking up the menu and studying it with a great deal of interest. "I'm going to order everything here, Dot. I'm simply starved." "So am I, though I ought to be ashamed to admit it. You should have seen the lunch I ate!" "And you should have seen my lunch!" returned Linda. "We forgot to carry anything, but fortunately Susie had left beans and coffee on the island." "Is that all you had?" Linda nodded, and gave her order to the waiter. "I'd certainly like to know where Susie is now," she remarked, after she had satisfied the sharpest pangs of hunger with an iced fruit-cup. "Yes, so would I," agreed Dot. "Her disappearance will make it a lot harder to trace that other thief.... Do you really expect to do anything about hunting him, Linda?" "Indeed I do! Tomorrow's only the twenty-seventh, and I don't have to report to Atlanta until July first. I'm going to use those four days." "But what could you possibly do?" inquired Dot. "How would you know where to go--without even a suggestion from Susie?" "I have a theory," explained the other girl. "Wait till I eat some of this beef-steak, and I'll tell you about it." "I'm crazy to hear it, because I'll be with you all the time. Mother said I must start back home the first of July--the day you go to Atlanta. I have my ticket bought." For a few moments Linda ate her dinner in silence, enjoying every mouthful as only a hungry person can. Then, lowering her voice so that there was no danger of being overheard, she told her chum her plan. "I've thought it all out," she began. "This is what must have happened: That thief--the 'Doc,' as the gang called him--took the boat and the money the day after the bank robbery, when he woke up and found that Susie and her husband had flown away in the autogiro, and the other two were still asleep. His idea was to get out of the swamp to the St. Mary's or some other river, that would take him to the ocean." "And get on a steamer?" demanded Dot. "But Linda, if he did that, he's out of the country by now." "I'm not so sure of that. A canoe trip like that would take a good while--the Okefenokee is fifty miles at least from the coast. And he'd be afraid to take a train--or an automobile, for fear of being seen. Besides, I don't think he'd take a steamer right away. He'd want to go to that island first." "In his canoe?" inquired the other, skeptically. "No, of course not. He'd hire a motor-boat--or steal one." "I still don't understand why he'd want to get to that island," remarked Dot. "For two reasons," explained Linda. "One because he expected to pick up those jewels--which we have already taken away--and the other reason is that the gang has arrangements with some party that owns a steamer, to stop at the island on certain specified dates. That would be his way of getting out of the country." "It does sound plausible," admitted Dot. "What a brain you have, Linda!" "Not a bit of that, Dot! It's only that I've been so closely associated with these criminals that I'm beginning to see their motives." "And where does Susie come into all this?" "The man must have seen her on Soldiers' Camp Island, from his canoe. Or rather, he saw the wrecked autogiro, and knew she must be there." "And forced her to go with him?" "Probably. He didn't want to take any chances, leaving her free to help the police." Linda paused for a moment to eat the salad with which she had been served, and glanced about the dining-room. No one seemed to know her, or notice her--for that she was sincerely thankful. It was not until they had finished their dinner and found a cool, secluded spot on the veranda, that she went on with her plan. "What I mean to do," she said quietly, "is to fly back to the camp on Black Jack Island early tomorrow. Not that I expect to find anyone there--but merely to get my direction--to go on to that island in the ocean. I don't know its name, so I couldn't look it up on the map." "You really expect to catch those two on that island?" asked Dot, excitedly. "Will you take the police along?" "No! I don't want to tell them a word about all this, except to say that I am going scouting about the country, and to ask for a couple of revolvers.... And, in answer to your first question, I don't really expect to find Susie and the 'Doc' there yet. But I believe they'll be along soon." "And we wait for them there?" "Yes. Take them unawares. Susie will probably be on our side, and we can plan something with her.... Of course this is all only theory. Maybe there isn't a thing in it. That gang was slick; they seemed to know how to drop right off the face of the earth. And I believe this man may be the cleverest of them all. He was quiet; it's the boasting kind, like Susie's husband, who usually get caught first.... So you can see why I don't want any of the police along." "We better take plenty of food, though," remarked Dot. "We will take some--but don't forget that we can easily fly back to the coast each night. The island is only a few miles out--it's nothing in a plane." "True," admitted the other. "And we'll keep our room here at the hotel, for we want some place as headquarters. We'll put a few over-night necessities into my bag." "O.K. I'll order a roast chicken and a chocolate cake from the dining-room tonight." "Oranges, too," added Linda. "They always taste so good. I mustn't forget to fill my thermos-bottles, either." They went to bed early that night, in order to get a good start on the following morning. Dot, who was particularly enthusiastic about the chocolate cake, carried the basket of food, while Linda took the handbag. They arrived at the City Hall immediately after breakfast, and were ushered right into Captain Magee's office. "No news of the fourth man yet," he said, after he had greeted Linda and been introduced to Dot. "But I've sent out a call for him by radio, so that all ships are to be warned to be on the look-out for a fellow of his description." "There's something else I want to tell you," added Linda, "that may help to spot him. There is probably a girl with him." Then, rather reluctantly, she told what she knew of Susie, begging the Captain not to punish her too severely if she were found. "And now," she concluded, "Miss Crowley and I want to do a little scouting ourselves--in the autogiro--and I want to know whether you will lend us a couple of .38s for the undertaking." The Captain smiled whimsically. What an unusual girl Linda Carlton was! No wonder she had done things no other girl had even tried. "Of course I will," he said. "Though such a request is rather out of the ordinary----" "This is an extraordinary occasion," remarked Linda. "Don't you want a detective to go with you?" he asked. "No, thank you, we haven't room in the autogiro. Besides, we don't want to waste his time--for it may be only a wild goose chase. But if you will lend us a couple of revolvers, I think we shall be safe." "Can you shoot?" "If it is necessary. But I don't think it will be. The girl got to be very friendly with me, after her husband was killed. If I had only gotten to her in time, I think I could have saved her. As it is, she may not have joined the man of her own free will. You see she had been hurt, and was partially helpless. So he could do most anything he liked with her, if he had her alone." "Well, good luck to you!" said the Captain. "I certainly take off my hat to a plucky pair of girls." When Linda and Dot arrived at the airport they found the Ladybug in readiness for its second flight into the swamp. Linda inspected her, and piled in the equipment. "I feel as if the Okefenokee Swamp were my home," she remarked, as she headed the autogiro in that direction. "I could almost fly it blind!" "Don't!" warned Dot. "Your friend the Doc is still at large, and he may be watching for us with a gun." This was Dot's first view of the swamp, and as they approached it, she was amazed at the vast expanse of it, stretching out in every direction. "It's huge, isn't it?" she shouted to Linda, through the speaking-tube. "Forty miles long and thirty wide," was the reply. "But we see only the southern end of it." Conversation was difficult, so the girls gave it up until they came to Black Jack Island, where Linda had been held a prisoner. "Shall we get out?" she asked her companion. "Or go straight on to the ocean?" "Let's get out," replied Dot. "They might possibly be here, you know. Besides, I'm crazy to see their camp." Linda brought the autogiro to earth and the girls climbed out cautiously, their revolvers in readiness, lest the enemy appear. But there was no human sound--nothing but the birds and the insects. "Watch out for snakes, Dot!" warned Linda. "I'd almost rather meet the Doc than a snake, I believe." They walked carefully towards the camp only to find it absolutely deserted. "Let's look all around," suggested Linda, who remembered everything only too well. "We'll begin with the mess-tent." Quietly at first, they snooped around, peering into boxes of provisions, looking under the cots, behind the tents, and, when they were quite sure that they were alone, they began to act more natural, to laugh and joke with each other. Linda showed Dot the tent which she had shared with Susie that one night of her captivity, and they both smiled over the sight of the magazine which had led to Linda's escape. "We could even stay here all night if we had to," Dot remarked. "Seems comfortable enough." Linda shuddered. "Never again!" she protested. "But we may as well eat some lunch before we fly to that island. I'm hungry." "And thirsty. But it isn't so hot here as it was in Jacksonville." "No. And the island out in the ocean ought to be cooler yet. You may like it so well that you'll want to spend the summer there. Only it has no tents or cots, like this camp." "Thank you, I'd rather not play Robinson Crusoe," replied Dot. "Poor man!" sighed Linda. "If he'd only had an airplane, how simple it would have been for him." They ate their lunch, and then, for the third time, Linda flew across the Okefenokee and over the coastal plain of Georgia--out to the barren island in the ocean where the treasure had been hidden. The desolate loneliness of the spot impressed her companion. "You suggested this as a summer resort!" she remarked, when they had landed. "Why, I don't even see a fishing-boat!" "That's just the trouble," replied Linda. "The first time I flew here--with Susie's husband--I looked about desperately for somebody to shout to for help. And there wasn't a soul! Nothing but ocean and sky.... Do you have your revolver handy, Dot?" "Yes. Right here. But I don't know much about shooting." "I'm sure we shan't have to. I just want to explore. But 'be prepared' is our motto." "I will be. I won't shoot you, either, Linda--you can count on me for that." Climbing out of the autogiro they walked towards the center of the island where the sand was soft and the underbrush thick. Perhaps, thought Linda, there might be more hiding places than the one hole which she knew; it would be worth while to make a thorough search. On and on they plodded, the sand sinking into their shoes, the sun beating down upon them with full blast, for what trees there were, were not high enough to afford much shade. It was difficult to find the hiding place in such monotonous desolation, but at last she came to the spot. "Somebody's been here since I came with the police!" she said to Dot, "because we left the stones as we found them. But it looks as if the hole is empty." She was correct in her surmise. After five minutes of pushing the sand away, Linda had assured herself that nothing was there. "Let's go down to the opposite shore from the one we came in on," suggested Dot. "And explore that." "All right," agreed Linda. "If you can stand walking through this sand again...." She stopped abruptly, peering towards the shore. An instant later she dragged the other girl to the ground. "The Doc!" she whispered, hoarsely. "I saw him down by the water--maybe there's a boat coming!" "What shall we do?" demanded Dot, clutching her revolver tightly. "Wait till he gets on--and follow in the autogiro. I've got plenty of gas.... Let's be creeping back to the Ladybug." The girls kept well hidden behind the underbrush, crawling along on their hands and knees. Suddenly Dot stopped; she had struck something solid. A canvas bag--two bags, stuffed full with something. Could it be the money? Breathless, they both stopped while Linda untwisted with her pen-knife the coarse pieces of wire around the tops of the bags, and dumped out the contents. Money in an amount they had never seen before! Hundred dollar bills in rolls that they had no time to count, bonds in thousand-dollar denominations! "Hide it quickly, Dot!" whispered Linda. "In your pockets, your riding-breeches--stuff some of it in my clothes--while I re-fill these bags with sand.... And have your revolver ready." CHAPTER XII _The Money-Bags_ Linda's theories regarding the fourth member of the gang of thieves had been only partially correct. As she had surmised, the "Doc" slipped off in the canoe from Black Jack Island while his companions slept, and he did stop at Soldiers' Camp. But it was not he who compelled Susie to go with him, but the girl herself who insisted upon accompanying him. Susie's desire to reform had been sincere while Linda was with her. She had actually meant to cut free from the gang and go back to a normal mode of life--earning her living as she had done when she met her husband. No more sneaking about in fear of the law, no more hiding in that desolate camp in the Okefenokee Swamp! She would get a job at an airport, and take up flying again. She might even become famous--like Linda Carlton! But unfortunately, after the famous aviatrix left her alone, her enthusiasm faded, and her faith in her ability to make a "come-back" died as suddenly as it was born. How could she ever hope to be free from the stain of her last two years of living--since her marriage to "Slats"? If Linda did not turn her over to the police authorities, someone else would. She might have to serve five or ten years in prison. As the afternoon passed, she grew more and more miserable, more anxious to get away. If only she had a boat! If her ankle were not so painful, and her bandaged head not so conspicuous! If there were only some way for her to escape! Having no appetite, she made no pretense at preparing any supper for herself. There was still some cold tea left from lunch; she decided to make that her meal, and an hour later she fell asleep where she was, right on the shore of the island. The sun was rising over the swamp when she awakened the following morning, and she sat up with difficulty, cramped by her uncomfortable position in sleep. "I might as well be dead--with Slats," she thought, morbidly, as she viewed the desolation around her. Again she tried to rise, when the soft sound of a paddle, dipping into the quiet water attracted her attention. She waited breathlessly. Were the boys coming back so soon? Not long afterward a canoe came into sight. Susie's heart leaped with joy when she recognized who was guiding it. The Doc! "Doc!" she cried. "Bill Rickers!" she added, using the man's real name. "It's Susie!" The man pulled up to the island, amazed at finding her there. In the dawning light he saw the autogiro, lying half on its side. "Where's Slats?" he demanded. "Dead," answered the girl, immediately. "We had a wreck.... Will you take me with you?" she begged. "I'm almost crazy here all by myself." "I wanted to make a get-away alone," he muttered. "You have the money!" she cried, jumping at once to the correct conclusion. "Where are the other two men?" "Asleep at Black Jack Island." "And where are you going?" "Out of the swamp--across the state, and then over to our island. The yacht's due there tomorrow--I want to be ready to go with it." "O.K. with me," agreed Susie, as if she had been invited to go. "Let's push off now--or wait--we'll eat some breakfast. There's beans and cold tea." "Maybe you could be some use," remarked the man, as he ate the meager breakfast. "If we could get a plane. And I am sorry for you, Kid--all alone here with Slats dead." Susie gave him no chance to change his mind. Hobbling out to the little "house" where the boys had put the blanket and the extra food, she picked up the former, smoothed her dress and her hair, and returned to announce herself ready. They pushed off again, following the little stream out of the swamp. "How do you expect to get across the state?" asked the girl, wearily, when late that afternoon, they brought their canoe to a landing. She had slept a little in the boat, but she was still very tired. "Hitch-hike, I reckon," was the reply. "If we go hirin' any cars, somebody might get suspicious. Once at the coast, I count on rentin' a little fishing-boat from some fellow--one big enough to take us to the island." "I can't hitch-hike," objected Susie. "Don't then,--stay here," answered the man, indifferently. "You know I can't do that, either. Let's go to that house over there, and see if we can't get some supper. Maybe they have an old Ford or a team of horses." "You foot the bill?" he asked, shrewdly. With all that money in his possession, this man had no intention of spending any of it on anyone but himself. Susie considered a moment. She hadn't any money at all--she always got what she wanted from her husband. But she owned some costly jewelry. "I'll give you this diamond," she offered, "if you get me safe out of the country. And no walkin'!" "O.K.," he muttered, his greedy eyes gleaming at the sight of the beautiful jewel. "You win. Go ask the woman yourself." It was thus, by strange coincidence, that Susie and the Doc rode across Georgia that evening in the same Ford that had driven Linda and the boys to Jacksonville the night before. They reached a seaport town a little after midnight, and Susie succeeded in finding a house to stay in, though her companion preferred to remain out-doors, for he said he "didn't trust nobody." In the morning, when she joined him, he had rented an old motor-boat from a fisherman. "Rent" was the word he used, but he had not the slightest intention of returning it. "You can run her, Susie," he said. "You're better at engines than I am, and she'll need coaxing. I'll steer." It was a difficult cruise, for at times the engine coughed and died, and Susie had to try all sorts of methods to start her up again. When they finally came within sight of the island, the motor sputtered its last and refused to function any longer. The man managed to get the boat inshore by riding the waves, and using the oars kept at the bottom of the boat for just such an emergency. About the time Linda Carlton and Dot Crowley were eating their lunch on Black Jack Island, Susie and the Doc were making their landing. They pulled in at the opposite shore from the one which the girls later used in the autogiro. The man's first concern was with the hiding-place where he expected to find the boxes of jewels. His disappointment was keen when he discovered that they had been taken away. "The cops has found us out!" he snarled angrily at Susie, as if it were her fault. "They'll be back again--I'll bet you! We gotta get out of here!" "How?" demanded Susie. "Not in that boat?" "Nope. Maybe the yacht will be along early, but it ain't likely. It usually runs after dark." Dumping his bags in the sand not far from the hole, he tried to think what would be best to do. "We gotta act quick, Susie--if the cops come. No use tryin' to put up a fight--with only one gun, and them two bags to guard.... You watch on that other shore, and I'll go back to the one we came in on. Whatever they come in--airplane or boat--we gotta swipe. Hide if you see anything comin', give 'em a chance to get into the island--and grab their boat. Give me a signal----" "How?" she interrupted. "You take the gun, and shoot when you're ready to push off.... If I see anybody on my side, I'll whistle, as near like a bird as I can." He grinned to himself; if the police came in anything but an airplane, he wouldn't bother with Susie. Let her face the music! "O.K. But I couldn't run, Doc. Don't forget that." "I ain't forgettin'," he returned. They separated, and for two hours waited tensely, keeping a sharp look-out for the rescuing yacht, hoping against hope that it would arrive before the police. But at three o'clock their worst fears were realized. Susie saw the autogiro coming towards them, and hobbled off into the depths of the island to conceal herself. Lying flat on the sand, she was not able to identify the people who got out of the plane, but she could see that they both wore riding-breeches, and she believed they were men. So she kept still until they had disappeared into the underbrush. Then she began to creep laboriously, in a round-about fashion, to the autogiro. Susie's progress was slow; she did not reach the plane until after Linda and Dot had succeeded in emptying the bags of the money, and refilled them with sand. The girls had just recognized the man on the shore, and were creeping farther into the island, out of sight of him, when the shot of the pistol rang out above the roar of the ocean. They had no way of knowing that Susie had fired it. A moment later they heard the rustle and crackle of underbrush, as the man came towards them. From her hiding place, now some distance from the bags, Linda raised her head cautiously, and saw the thief retrieve the bags with a grab. Then he dashed back to the shore, circled the island on the harder sand, and reached the opposite shore, where the autogiro was standing. "Why doesn't he come after us?" whispered Linda, in amazement. "He will soon, I'm afraid," replied Dot hoarsely, clutching her revolver tightly. "But I'm going to shoot if he does!" "So am I," answered Linda, calmly. "We've got the advantage--we're hidden." Tensely they waited for five minutes--possibly ten; then something they had not thought of happened. The engine of the autogiro began to roar! "They're stealing the Ladybug!" cried Linda, aghast at such a calamity. "Susie must be with him! Dot, we can't let them do that!" Regardless of the danger, Linda jumped up excitedly, and rushed to a clearing, where she had a view of the shore. She was just in time to see her beloved autogiro taxi along the beach and rise into the air. Dot dashed to her side, and the two girls stood together in helpless agony of spirit. "Prisoners!" cried Dot, at last, dropping her useless revolver into the sand. "Robinson Crusoes!" added Linda, bitterly. "No better off! No plane!" "With thousands of dollars!" groaned her companion, ironically. "Where money is no good at all!" CHAPTER XIII _The Broken Motor-Boat_ The two girls continued to stand perfectly still on the sand, gazing at the retreating autogiro, which apparently was flying out farther over the ocean, and circling about in a strange manner. "Why don't they fly towards the coast--towards Georgia?" demanded Dot, in bewilderment. Linda took her spyglasses out of her pocket, and squinted through them at the plane. "I see a boat!" she exclaimed. "It must be that yacht the gang had arrangements with--to pick up the stuff they steal.... Yes, and that's another island.... Look, Dot--see if I'm right." The other girl took the glasses, and confirmed Linda's statement. "Yes, it is.... And the Ladybug's landing on it.... Two people getting out--must be Susie and the Doc--and boarding the boat.... Linda! They're leaving the plane on the island!" It was true indeed; taking turns at the glasses, the girls watched the yacht push off into the ocean. "And here we are--and there's the Ladybug!" remarked Linda, grimly. "Just out of reach! The question is--how to get to her." "Swim," suggested Dot. "Maybe you could, Dot. But I'd be afraid of sharks." "No, I don't think I'll try it either. Besides, the currents probably awfully strong." "Oh, if Jackson and Hal would only rescue us now!" lamented Linda. "I wouldn't treat them a bit coolly." The truth of that situation flashed upon Dot. "Was it Jackson Carter who rescued you before, Linda?" she asked. Linda blushed. "Yes--it was," she admitted. "Then why did you treat him so cruelly? I should think you would have been everlastingly grateful." "I was. Till his mother snubbed me--and he even doubted that I was a nice girl, just because I was traveling about alone. Then, when you introduced me, he wanted to be friends. Naturally I was hurt." "I don't blame you! But Mrs. Carter is terribly old-fashioned." While they were talking they had been slowly advancing towards the beach. Suddenly Linda spied a pile of articles near the spot where the autogiro had taken off. "Look, Dot!" she cried. "There's our stuff on the shore! The basket! My over-night bag--and I guess that other box is my tool kit, that I always keep in the plane! Come on!" Breathlessly they dashed down to the shore and found that their belongings had indeed been tossed out of the autogiro. "This proves that Susie's our friend!" cried Linda, hopefully. "She must have done this." "Fine friend--to steal the plane!" returned Dot. "She didn't have to go with that man!" "Maybe not.... I'm afraid I can't understand her," mourned Linda. "Half good, and half bad----" "Don't worry about Susie," urged her companion. "We have enough to think about for ourselves.... Still, it is nice that we eat tonight. Aren't we lucky to have that food?" Dot's forced cheerfulness brought their wretched plight back to Linda. How selfish she had been, to drag this other girl into this wretched business, when she came South to enjoy a holiday! "Oh, Dot!" she wailed, "I can't tell you how sorry I am--about bringing you in on this! I had no right to let you come. Your mother will never forgive me. It was different with Lou. When she set out on those wild adventures with me, her parents knew what to expect." "Cheer up, we're not dead yet," was the reassuring reply. "Things aren't so black. Our enemy is safely out of the country, I take it, and Captain Magee is sure to look us up soon, when he doesn't hear from us. Besides, a friendly boat may come along at any minute." "Dot, you're one girl in a thousand!" cried Linda, giving her chum a hug. "You're just an old peach, not to be complaining. And for my own sake, I'm so thankful you're with me! Just imagine how I'd feel all alone!" "Well, let's enjoy ourselves while the food lasts. Let's carry it inshore farther, and find a camping place. You have matches in your pocket?" "Always!" replied Linda, thinking of her experience in Canada, when she had lost her matches with her plane. "I keep my pockets as full as a man's now, so if I am separated from my plane, I'm not helpless." "Wise girl! You're learning, Linda. In a year or two you can do exploring, like Byrd--if there are any places left to explore." "I guess Aunt Emily will make me sit home with folded hands after this," remarked Linda, soberly. "If we aren't rescued soon, it will be bound to get into the newspapers." She stooped over and opened her tool-box, in which she carried all sorts of things besides actual tools. A flash-light, a knife, wire and string, even nails and nuts. And down in the corner she found several cans of food, which she thought the bandits had taken out when they emptied the plane of its gas that first day in the swamp. "This is going to be a big help," she said. "We might even build a boat----" "Out of underbrush?" asked Dot, sarcastically. "Why, there isn't a decent tree on the whole island." "I'm afraid you're right," sighed Linda. "Well, come on--let's get farther in, and take this money out of our clothing. Money can be a nuisance sometimes," she added, jokingly. They picked up their possessions, Linda taking the tool-box, and Dot the bag and basket of food, and hunted the shadiest spot they could find for their camp. Then they set about diligently unloading the money, and stuffing it into the over-night bag, which they first emptied of its contents. "Let's see what we have to keep us alive," suggested Dot, peering into the basket. "Three quarters of a chicken, ten oranges, almost a whole cake, four bananas, and eight rolls, besides that stuff you found. And one thermos bottle full of water--and another half full." "It's the lack of water that's going to make it hardest," observed Linda. "If only the ocean weren't salty." "Well, maybe we shan't even need all this! If we rig up some kind of signal of distress----" "What shall we use? Clothing?" "We might take hundred dollar bills," laughed Dot. "They're the most worthless things we have now." "True. Only think how glad the people will be to get them back. Mrs. Carter, for instance.... I have it!" exclaimed Linda, brightly. "Our pajamas! Lucky we put them into the bag! We won't need them in the day-time, and no boat could see a signal at night anyway." "Good idea!" approved her chum. "Now let's leave all this stuff here, and explore the island. We might find something--and anyhow, it will give us something to do." Arm in arm they returned to the beach, where the sand was harder, and began to circle the island. They had gone half way around--to the opposite shore--when they both spied the old motor boat at the same moment. So great was their joy that they jumped up and down, hugging each other wildly. "Of course that's what the man came in!" cried Linda. "We might have known he and Susie couldn't swim the ocean!" They started to race to the boat, and arrived together. Dot immediately set about examining it for leaks, while Linda gave her attention to the engine. "It's broken," she said. "But I'm sure I can fix it. You know how I love to take motors apart. Just give me a day----" "Darling, you can have a week if you want!" agreed Dot, wild with happiness and relief. "We can make our food last." "A day or maybe two ought to be enough. Then we can get to that other island and retrieve the Ladybug, before anybody even misses us!" "It seems to be pretty sound," said Dot. "No leaks, or anything. And there are even a couple of oars in the bottom, if the engine won't go." "Oars wouldn't take us far, with such a heavy boat. But I'm sure I can fix the motor, and there's a can of gasoline here, besides what's in the tank.... But I don't believe I better start now--I'd just get it apart, and the daylight would be gone. I'll get up early tomorrow...." "Suits me," agreed the other. "Now let's go back to our camp and fix some supper." Both girls felt exceedingly cheerful as they collected sticks and lighted a fire. From one of Linda's cans they took out tea, but the rest they left unopened. The beans and jam and biscuits would keep until after the picnic food was gone. "I have a bright idea," remarked Dot, as she ate a leg of chicken. "Why couldn't we make chicken soup, out of the bones and sea-water? You have to put salt in it anyway, don't you?" "Yes, but I'm afraid it would be too salty. It would make us so thirsty we'd want to drink all our water at once.... Still, we might try. We wouldn't be wasting anything." "Too bad we haven't sore throats," said Dot, still in a mood for joking. "Sore throats!" repeated Linda, in amazement. "What's the connection between chicken soup and sore throats?" "Nothing--I was only trying to think up ways to use salt water. We always have to gargle with salt water, at home, when we have sore throats. Doesn't your Aunt Emily make you do that?" Her companion laughed. "No, we always use Listerine. But it's an idea. Think up some more, Dot--we'll get some uses for it yet!" They drank very sparingly of the water in the thermos bottle--one cup apiece--and decided to limit themselves to that at each meal. Sometimes they would substitute oranges--how thankful they were that they had brought so many! Their light-hardheartedness diminished as the sun went down and darkness settled over the island. The loneliness of the night, the solemn roar of the ocean, the isolation of the island, appalled them. Not a human being except themselves--not a human sound! But they had each other, and this comfort was so overwhelming to Linda, that it shut out all her other troubles. She could not help exulting every few minutes over the joy of having a companion, and Dot was thankful that she was there, so long as Linda had to meet with such a fate. Yes, surely, they would make the best of things. They slept well that night, for the sand, covered with leaves the girls had plucked, made a soft bed. A breeze from the ocean was so cooling that Linda had to pull their slickers over them as a covering. The stars shone in a friendly sky; hand in hand, as Linda and Lou had so often slept, the two girls dropped off into unconsciousness. Their first thought upon awakening, after remembering where they were, was the autogiro. Their second was the motor-boat. They could not eat any breakfast until they had made sure that both of these were still safe. "That island doesn't look very far away, does it?" Dot remarked, after they had satisfied themselves upon these two questions. "No, it doesn't," agreed Linda, taking out her spyglasses. "Only, you can't tell by appearances--they're so deceiving on the ocean." They went back to their camp and breakfasted on oranges and rolls, finishing off with chocolate cake. "Because we might as well enjoy it while it is fresh," Dot said laughingly. Neither girl ever had to worry about indigestion. All day long Linda worked on the engine, with her companion at her side, watching her in admiration. All that day and the next. On the evening of the twenty-ninth of June she announced that she was finished. The engine was condescending to run! "Tomorrow we get the Ladybug!" Linda announced, exultantly. "And get back to Jacksonville in time to keep our engagements for July first!" They were very happy as they sat beside their camp fire that night, eating their supper of baked beans and crackers and oranges. Happy and light-hearted, never thinking to glance at the sky, and to guess the meaning of the dark clouds that were gathering. Had they only done so, they might have gone to the autogiro that night in their repaired motor-boat--and saved their relatives and friends all the anguish and anxiety that they were to experience during the coming days. But neither Linda nor Dot gave the weather a thought; they went to sleep that night in the joyful expectation of returning to Jacksonville the following day. At dawn the storm came, pouring down upon them in torrents, arousing the ocean to terrifying waves, shutting out the sight of the island where the autogiro was waiting--imprisoning the girls once more in their desolate loneliness. And now practically all of their food was gone! CHAPTER XIV _Searching Parties_ When Linda Carlton and Dorothy Crowley left Jacksonville Airport on the morning of June twenty-seventh in the Ladybug, and flew into the Okefenokee Swamp, they fully expected to telephone to their families that night, or at least to send a wire to them, as they had promised. So when Miss Emily Carlton heard nothing from her niece she became anxious, and directed her chauffeur to drive her to Mrs. Crowley's cottage. Both women were established at Green Falls for the summer, which was the favorite resort of all Linda's friends from Spring City. It was there that the girl had called her aunt from Jacksonville, the night that Dot and the Mackays had arrived. Only one telegram had she received since that time. Mrs. Crowley, who was less inclined to be nervous than Miss Carlton, tried to reassure the latter, saying that she realized how busy the girls would be. But when June twenty-eighth passed without any word from them, she too became alarmed, and together the two women put in a long distance call to Captain Magee at Jacksonville. Briefly he told them what he knew--of Linda's decision to go "scouting," as she called it. And of her request for the revolvers. The shock of that piece of news was almost too much for Miss Carlton. She jumped to the conclusion that the girls were dead. "Aren't you doing a thing to find them, Captain?" she demanded, harshly. "I was thinking about it," he replied. "But after all, they've only been gone two days----" "You don't know my niece!" interrupted the unhappy woman. "Linda always wires or telephones me every day, when she goes on these flying trips. She doesn't forget. It's because she can't--she has been injured or killed!" "I hope not," he replied. "But I will send a plane over the Okefenokee Swamp tomorrow, Miss Carlton," he promised. The two women gazed at each other in helpless dismay at the conclusion of this conversation. What could they possibly do, aside from informing the newspapers--a decision which they carried out immediately. Accordingly, on June twenty-ninth, every newspaper in the country stated the fact that Linda Carlton, the famous aviatrix who had flown to Paris alone, was missing again--somewhere in Georgia--probably in the Okefenokee Swamp, with a chum, Miss Dorothy Crowley of Spring City, who was also a pilot. The unhappy news instantly produced the effect which Miss Carlton hoped it would accomplish. It aroused no fewer than five searching parties, all bent upon locating these two popular girls. Captain Magee's men were the first to go. Summoning Sergeant Worth, he commandeered a plane from the airport, and directed the pilot to fly over the swamp, searching from the air by means of spyglasses. The second party was composed of the girls' fathers, both of whom were in New York City at the time. Mr. Crowley telephoned Mr. Carlton, and after sending a wire to their families, they boarded a Florida train together. The third volunteers were two young men at Green Falls, two college boys who considered Linda and Dot their special girl-friends, though neither of them was engaged, Jim Valier and Ralph Clavering heard the sad news at the out-door pool at Green Falls, just as they were about to join a group of young people for a swim. Kitty Hulbert, Ralph's married sister, read the head-lines aloud. "Jim," muttered Ralph, when Kitty finished, "let's do something! We can take a plane to Florida--and go on a search from there." "O.K.," agreed the other boy, and quietly and quickly the two young men disappeared from the group. The story came to the Mackays in Washington, where Ted had business on his return from Georgia. The instant that Louise read it, she jumped up in excitement. "We must go, Ted!" she cried. "You can get your vacation now." "I'll wire immediately," he agreed, without an instant's hesitation, and he went out to make the necessary arrangements and to order his plane in readiness. The fifth and last party was none other than Linda's two latest admirers, the two young men she had mentioned to Dot in the hope of a rescue--Jackson Carter and Hal Perry. All in all, it ought to have been enough to satisfy Miss Carlton that every effort was being made to find the girls and to bring them back to safety. The airplane from the police department was the first of these groups to get into action, the first to enter the swamp. Yet it did not actually enter it, but merely flew above it, for the pilot, less experienced than Linda herself, did not believe it possible to come down on one of those islands. For hours, however, he circled about, over the bog, and the cypress-trees, while Sergeant Worth in the rear cock-pit scanned the landscape with his spyglasses. But neither man saw any trace of the autogiro or the girls, and late that afternoon they had to return in discouragement to Captain Magee. "I couldn't even locate that camp on the island," Worth said. "The one where we got the prisoners, you know. Unless you have the exact directions, it's hard to find anything in that swamp.... And--I don't see much use in trying again." Captain Magee looked exceedingly grave; he was genuinely worried. He blamed himself for letting the girls go alone. But there had been nothing official about the project--he had not really expected that they would run into the criminal. Besides, Linda Carlton had seemed so capable, and both girls were so eager to go. "We mustn't give up, Worth," he said quietly. "It's more important to find these girls than a dozen criminals. We owe it to them, to their families--to the whole country. Everybody has admiration and affection for Miss Linda Carlton, after all she has done.... You'll have to go back tomorrow--or get another man, if you feel too discouraged." "No, I'm only too glad to help," the other assured him. "I would do anything in the world for Miss Carlton. But I don't see how it can do any good. A scouting party in boats would be much more likely to be successful." "We'll try that, too, as soon as I can get some men together. But tomorrow you fly out over the ocean to that island where the thieves had the jewels. The girls might be stranded there. Take another pilot, and a bigger plane." Worth looked doubtful. "We haven't any way of locating that island, either," he said. "It was Miss Carlton who took us there before, and I have no idea where it is." "Just do your best, Worth," urged the Captain. "Fly around all the islands near the Georgia coast, keeping a sharp look-out for the autogiro." "Rain or shine? It looks like a storm tomorrow." "Yes, whatever the weather, you must go--or get someone else." So, in spite of the terrible downpour and the high winds of June thirtieth, a cabin monoplane flew across Georgia and out over the ocean to a group of islands just off the coast. Three men were aboard--two experienced pilots, one of whom was also a mechanic--besides the police officer. Leaving the coast behind, they flew out into the grayness that was ocean and sky. The waves were high, the sea rough and angry, and the rain was coming down in sheets, blinding their vision, but they pressed on, two of the men keeping their spyglasses on the water, watching for islands. They passed over several, but they were small, with little or no place to land. Eagerly the men watched for some sign of human life, some signal, some glimpse of the autogiro. "They'd never be alive if we did find them," remarked Worth, gloomily. "And if they did run into that gangster, he'd surely have made away with them." "If only it would clear up," grumbled the pilot. "So we could see something!" They were flying much lower now, for it was comparatively safe over the water, and despite the weather, they were able to spot the islands. All of a sudden the mechanic uttered a sharp cry. "There she is! Look! Over there!" "Miss Carlton?" demanded Worth, excitedly. "Where?" "Not the girl! The plane--the autogiro! See--that island to the west! See the wind-mill on top?" "By George! You're right!" agreed Worth, a thrill running up and down his spine. Thank Heaven, he hadn't given up! The pilot directed the plane over the island and circled about, landing finally some distance from the autogiro. A glance at the latter assured them that it had not been wrecked. Why, then, hadn't the girls come back? Was it possible that all this scare had risen to alarm the world for the simple reason that Linda Carlton had run out of gas? The three men climbed out of the cabin and shouted as loud as they could, since the girls had evidently failed to hear their plane, above the noise of the storm and the roar of the ocean. Eagerly they waited for a reply. But when none came, fear crept over them all. Had the girls died of starvation, or was there foul play of some kind? With gloomy forebodings, they walked about the beach, seeking evidence of some kind to tell the story of what had happened. Finding nothing, the mechanic began to examine the autogiro. She was undamaged, unhurt--everything in order, gasoline in the tank. The engine started easily in answer to his test, and ran smoothly until he turned it off. No, the gallant little Ladybug could not be blamed for whatever disaster had taken place! Then, forgetful of the weather, the three men set out to search the island thoroughly. Buckled in oil-skin coats, they felt protected themselves, but Worth shuddered as he thought of these girls alone in such desolation, with no roof to cover them, no food to satisfy their hunger, or water for their thirst. Gloomy and discouraged they plowed through the wet sand, calling the girls' names. Finally, abandoning the hope of finding them alive, they set themselves to the gruesome task of looking among the underbrush for their bodies. At last they gave up. "We'll fasten a canvas sheet over these bushes, so that we can locate the island, and we'll pin a note on it to say that we'll be back," decided Worth, "in case they are alive. One of you men take the autogiro, and the other the plane, and we'll go back now." The rain was abating somewhat, and the two planes made the return trip without any mishaps, arriving at the Jacksonville Airport before dark that evening. A wildly enthusiastic crowd, which had collected in spite of the weather, greeted them with resounding cheers. The Ladybug was back again--safe and sound! Women cried with joy, men threw their hats into the air, children clapped their hands and whistled. In a miniature way it was a demonstration like the one given Lindbergh upon his arrival at the French Flying Field. But it was a false rejoicing, and the gayety was quickly changed into despair when the pilot reported that the girls themselves had not been found. Weary and disappointed, the crowd turned away, and Sergeant Worth told the sad story to the newspaper reporters who waited to interview him, before he returned to the police headquarters. Captain Magee was terribly affected by the news. Linda Carlton might have been his own daughter, from the grief which he could not conceal. Two well-dressed young men were waiting in his office when Worth arrived, and they listened to the grim account. They were the first of the rescue parties to arrive from the North--Jim Valier and Ralph Clavering. "These two young men are friends of Miss Carlton and Miss Crowley," explained the Captain. "They want to go into the swamp tomorrow in a boat.... Perhaps the girls have reached the main-land, or perhaps that autogiro was stolen, and they never were on the island at all.... Anyhow, we'll search the swamp again. Will you go with them, Worth?" "Certainly," agreed the sergeant, though he felt as if it would be fruitless. Those girls were at the bottom of the ocean, he was sure! "A light motor-boat ought to be able to go up that little stream," continued the Captain. "I will have one ready at the edge of the swamp tomorrow morning at ten o'clock. If you young men will come here at nine, I'll send you over there in a car." Jim and Ralph expressed their thanks to the officer, and promised to be on hand at the arranged time in the morning. But, like Sergeant Worth, they were exceedingly discouraged; they had little hope of success. When they awakened the following morning, which was the first day of July--the day that Linda should have reported to Atlanta--they found that it was still raining, although the storm had ceased, giving way to a dismal drizzle. What an unpleasant day to start off on an excursion like theirs, that was gloomy at best! Yet the weather did not deter them from their purpose, nor did it stop Hal Perry and Jackson who started earlier that morning in their canoe. But it was difficult with a motor-boat, and all three of the men were unfamiliar with the swamp and its little streams. No one knew where to turn off, as Jackson and Hal had learned from many vacations, and after pushing ahead for two or three hours, they found themselves off their course--grounded. "It's no use," muttered Worth. "We can't make it in a motor-boat. Magee's never been in the swamp, or he would have known. We'll have to turn back and get a canoe!" "A whole day wasted!" growled Ralph angrily, as if it were the sergeants fault. "A day! When every minute is precious!" "Well, it's nobody's fault," remarked Worth. "The sooner we get back the better." "Nobody's fault!" repeated Ralph. "No--ignorance is O.K.--if it pertains to the police! They shouldn't know a thing about the country around them!" "No use getting mad at policemen, Ralph," drawled good-natured Jim Valier. "Haven't you learned from driving a car that it doesn't pay? Besides, they're always right." "No, we're often very wrong," said Worth, humbly and seriously. "And maybe you don't think I care, Mr. Clavering, about finding those girls. But I do! I haven't thought about a thing but that for the last three days." Ralph made no answer, but applied his attention to searching the landscape with his glasses. But, like everybody else thus far, he found nothing. Discouraged and silent, they managed to push the boat into the deeper water and to turn it around. All that afternoon they spent in retracing the progress they had made, and returned to the Captain's office just before supper. "You want to try it again in canoes?" asked Captain Magee. "Yes," replied Ralph. "Without any of your police this time. No use taking an extra man--it only means more provisions to carry." "True. But you must be careful of snakes and alligators." The boys looked none too pleased at the idea, but when they remembered that Linda and Dot, if still alive, would be subjected to the same perils, they were all the more eager to go. This time, they decided, they would do it scientifically; they would go prepared with a map of the swamp, equipment, food, and rifles. And above all, a compass! And they would not give up until they had searched every part of that dismal Okefenokee Swamp! So, cheered by the optimism of youth and the promise of another day, the boys slept well that night. CHAPTER XV _The Empty Island_ The same morning upon which Ralph Clavering and Jim Valier went into the Okefenokee Swamp in a canoe, the fourth searching party arrived. Delayed by a stop-over in Norfolk, Virginia, where Ted had some business for the company, he and Louise did not reach the Jacksonville Airport until the morning of July second. Leaving the plane at the field, they taxied immediately to the City Hall, arriving there a little after ten. They did not expect any good news about the missing girls, for they had read the papers and had inquired the latest word at the airport. They had gazed at the Ladybug, so forlorn and desolate in the hangar, and their fears were dark. Even Louise, who was usually optimistic, believed this time it was the end. Yet how dreadful it was! That Linda Carlton, so young, with such a glorious future before her, should perish like this before she was twenty! When she had the whole world at her feet--a world she had won not through mere beauty and charm--although she was both beautiful and charming, but through her courage, her ability, her modesty! Louise made no attempt to hide the tears that rolled down her cheeks; even her husband's strong arm about her shoulders could not stop her sobs. "Don't give up yet, dear!" he urged. "Why, you and I haven't even had our try." The girl smiled bravely through her tears. "I know, Ted dear. I'll try to remember." Her eyes brightened with genuine hope. "It always has been _you_ who have rescued her! Maybe you will this time." "We're going to make a bigger effort than ever before," he reassured her. "Because this time I have you to help me." The minute they entered the City Hall they saw that something had happened. Louise's heart gave a wild leap of excitement. Were Linda and Dot safe? But no. If they were, somebody would be shouting the news from the house-tops--and no one was looking particularity jubilant. There was a crowd outside, but it was not an exulting one. Was it possible that they had found the girls--dead? In spite of the heat of the day, a cold shiver of horror crept over Louise, and she clung tightly to her husband's arm. They had little difficulty in passing through the crowd to the captain's office, for the latter had given orders to his men that Miss Carlton's and Miss Crowley's friends and relatives were to be admitted immediately, whenever they appeared. As they entered the room, they saw half a dozen officials standing around, several in plain clothes, with only badges to identify them. And on a chair by the desk, opposite Captain Magee, a strange young woman was sitting. The girl was flashily dressed--or over-dressed--in the latest style. A long green gown trailed almost to the floor, not quite concealing a bandaged ankle. Her little, off-the-face hat of the same bright color was decorated with a diamond bar-pin. Her lips and her cheeks were painted, and there was a gap in her mouth where two front teeth had been knocked out. The Captain nodded to the Mackays to sit down, and he continued the questions he was putting to this young woman. "You might as well confess if you know where that man is--with all the bank's money!" he was saying. "I know your scheme. Pretending you don't know where he escaped, so that you won't be locked up, and can get back to him!" His eyes narrowed, and he lowered his voice to an uncanny whisper. "But we'll keep you here till you tell where that thief is!" "I can't tell you--when I don't know!" she persisted. "He ran off from me--he never wanted me with him anyway. I'll swear to it, Sir, if you think I'm lyin'.... Besides, he hasn't got that money." "Then where is it?" "Linda--and the cops she had with her--tricked us, double-crossed us, by swiping the money and fillin' the bags with sand. The Doc was in such a Hurry to get away from those cops, he never found it out till we were on that yacht. He was afraid to go back." Captain Magee leaned forward eagerly at the mention of Linda Carlton's name. She was far more important than the money that had been stolen. "Miss Carlton?" he demanded. "With the police? Where did you see her?" Susie shook her head. "No, I didn't actually see her. But I saw her Bug, with her stuff in it--a bag and a basket of food. I tossed them out of the plane, too, so she wouldn't starve when we swiped the plane. You can put that down to my credit." "You stole the autogiro?" "No. Only borrowed it. Left it on an island--you can get it when you want it." "We have it.... Now, suppose instead of my asking you questions, you tell us the whole story, Miss----?" "_Mrs._ Slider, if you please," she said. "I am a widow." She lowered her eyes dramatically, enjoying the sensation of holding the center of the stage. "Well," she began, "after my husband got killed in the plane accident that Linda probably told you about, she and I got to be quite good friends. I even promised to leave the gang and go straight, for I never really took part in any of their stealing myself--believe it or not! Linda left me on that island in the swamp, and promised to come back for me when she came for the Bug." "But you weren't there when Miss Carlton returned!" Captain Magee reminded her. "No. I got terrible lonesome. If you ever spend a night in the swamp with only a dead man for company--oh, he was buried all right, but it was spooky just the same--you'd excuse me for takin' the first way out, Sir. The Doc come along, in his canoe, and I promised him my diamond ring if he'd take me away.... Well, we got out of the swamp in his boat, and hired a Ford across Georgia. Then we took a motor-boat out to that island in the ocean." Everyone waited breathlessly; at last the girl was coming to the part they all longed to hear about--the part of the story in which Linda Carlton figured. Pausing dramatically, Susie asked for a glass of water. "Go on!" urged the captain, as soon as she had drained it. "It was a terrible boat," she finally continued. "An awful old one. You can imagine going ten miles out to sea in a thing like that! The engine gave out----" "Never mind all that!" commanded the officer, impatiently. "Come to the point." "Yes, Sir.... Well, we got to the island finally, and waited for the yacht that was to pick us up and take us to Panama, but before she come along, the autogiro arrived. Linda--and the police, of course." "Did you see them--the police, I mean?" was the next question. "No, we didn't. We were too scared, so we hid till they got out of the plane and searched the island. Then we grabbed the bags and ran for the plane. I flew the Bug out to sea, and in a few minutes we spotted our yacht, and signaled it to stop on another island. That's where we left Linda's plane.... When we got to Panama, the Doc slipped off, and I got caught.... So you see there's nothing to punish _me_ for--you got the autogiro back, and the cops, or Linda, took the money----" "There were no policemen with Miss Carlton," Captain Magee informed Susie. "Only another girl. But they are lost." "They must be still on that island, waiting for you to come for them. Nothing could hurt them, and they had some food...." This was enough for Ted Mackay. Jumping to his feet, he announced his intention of flying there immediately. "Give me the latitude and longitude of that island!" he demanded. "There isn't a moment to lose!" "The what?" asked Susie, wrinkling her nose. "Show me where it is on a map," explained Ted. "Yeah," agreed Susie, pointing out the island on a map of the Georgia coast, which the Captain took from his desk. "But what's the grand rush?" "You've forgotten the storm we just had!" said the young man. "The girls may be sick or dead by this time." "Girls," repeated Susie, significantly. "It beats everything the way they fooled us--in their riding-breeches! If the Doc ever finds out he ran away from a pair of girls----" "Never mind all that, Mrs. Slider," interrupted Captain Magee, signaling to the prison matron to take the girl away.... "Now, Mr. Mackay, is there anything I can do for you, before you go?" "You might get me a taxi," replied Ted. "To take my wife and myself to the airport." "Take my private car," offered the Captain, rising to say good-by. "And good luck to you!" Louise was so excited at the whole occurrence that she could scarcely sit still in the limousine, as it sped over to the airport. "If we only aren't too late! Ted, do you suppose they're starved? What does it feel like to starve to death? Or to die of thirst?" "I wouldn't worry too much about thirst," he reassured her. "Because of that big rain we had. They could get water from it, you know." "I never thought of that!" "The worst is over now, I'm sure," continued Ted. "Five days isn't so long, and the girl said they had food. Besides, it wasn't cold. Think of that time you girls were lost in Canada!" Louise shuddered; she could still remember that long, hopeless night very vividly, when she and Linda had jumped from parachutes down into the snow of the Canadian Woods, and how they had been forced to keep walking to avoid freezing to death. "Still, we found a shack to sleep in. And Linda and Dot haven't even a blanket to cover them in all that storm!" "Well, they were together, that's one thing to be thankful for." "Yes--and I'm glad Linda's companion is Dot. Of all our crowd at Spring City, Dot Crowley is the nicest girl--after Linda, of course. Most of the girls, like Kitty Clavering--Kitty Hulbert, I mean--or Sue Emery, would be pitying themselves so that they'd make Linda miserable. But not Dot. She always sees the bright side of everything." "And wasn't it clever the way they got hold of that money, and fooled that bandit!" exulted Ted. "My, but that was slick. And think what it's going to mean to that bank and its depositors! Because if that fellow hadn't been fooled, he'd have made off with it. I don't believe they'll ever find him now." "I guess nobody will care if he never comes back to the United States!" agreed Louise. They arrived at the airport and found the plane in readiness, wheeled out on the runway, and Ted took time to give it an inspection himself, while Louise ran off to get the necessary supplies--some food and water, and a first-aid kit, as a necessary precaution. She borrowed sweaters and knickers from the supply at the airport, for she reasoned that Linda and Dot would be chilled and drenched from the rain. Dry clothing ought to be a god-send, even if they used it only on the short trip back in the plane. Inside of an hour they took off. It was still drizzling, but Ted was such an experienced navigator that he had no difficulty at all in flying in any kind of weather, and he found the island from Susie's directions. Shortly after noon, he brought it down on the beach. A feeling of apprehension stole over Louise, when she saw neither of the girls on the shore to greet them. In spite of the noise of ocean, surely they would have heard the plane! Why weren't they there? Ted turned off the motor, and looked about expectantly. "Do you suppose they're both sick--or injured?" faltered Louise. She did not add, "or dead," but she could not help thinking it. "Maybe they didn't hear us. Let's shout together--'Linda and Dot!' If they hear their first names, they'll know we're friends, maybe recognize our voices. You see they may be hiding--for fear it's that gangster returning." "I never thought of that," replied Louise, more hopefully. "All right--both together when I count three. "One--two--three!" "LINDA AND DOT!" Their voices rose clearly over the splashing of the waves, and they waited tensely. But there was no reply! They waited, and tried again.... Still silence.... Louise put out her hand, and grasped her husband's, in fear. "What does it mean?" she cried, in anguish. "Is this surely the right island? There seemed to be a lot of them." "Maybe it isn't" he answered, optimistically. "That girl seemed to be telling the truth--but she was a queer one. Besides, she might not be sure which island it was.... Anyway, we'll search. If Linda and Dot were here, we'll see some evidences of their camp--burnt out fires, or worn paths, or something. Come on, let's start!" Arm in arm they began their search, stepping carefully through the underbrush, now and then stopping to call, "Linda" or "Dot," in the hope that the girls might only have been asleep. They did not have to go far before they saw that at least someone had been here recently, for there was a path worn through the underbrush. Farther and farther in they went, until they came to a small cluster of pine trees. And here, sure enough, they found the remains, or rather the ashes, for the place had been left neat, of a camp fire. The sight of this forsaken spot brought sudden tears to Louise's eyes. "They've been dragged off and killed! I just know it!" she moaned. "Don't cry, please, dear," begged Ted. "We're not sure yet. This may not be their island--their fire. Somebody else may have camped here. Let's look about a bit." Slowly they walked around the place, examining the ground for some forgotten belonging that would identify the former campers. Noticing a pile of leaves where someone had evidently made a bed, Louise kicked them aside with her foot, and she saw an empty matchbox. It wasn't much, but it was something, and she leaned over and picked it up. The letters on the lid leaped out at her like living tongues. Marked with a purple rubber-stamp over the trade-mark, were the words: "J. Vetter, Spring City, Ohio." The explanation was only too plain. No one but Dot and Linda could have used that box. Louise dropped to the ground in an agony of wretchedness, and buried her face in her hands. Even the optimistic Ted found all his hopes blasted by this little box. Gloom spread over his features, and he sat down beside his wife, comforting her as best he could. For fifteen minutes, perhaps, they remained motionless, overcome by the thought of their friends' awful death. The food which they had brought with the idea of sharing a gay picnic lunch with Dot and Linda was forgotten. Though they had not eaten since breakfast, neither Ted nor Louise could have swallowed a mouthful. At last Ted got up, gently raising Louise to her feet. Each silently decided to make one more search--a gruesome one this time--for the girls' bodies. Round and round the island they walked, looking carefully, among the underbrush, near to the beach, even scanning the water with their spyglasses. But they saw nothing. That one matchbox had been their only evidence. Like good campers to the end, Linda and Dot had burned every trace of rubbish. It was mid-afternoon when Ted realized that Louise was faint from hunger and thirst, and he made her sit down while he brought some supplies from the plane. She drank the water eagerly, but she could not eat. For Louise Mackay was going through the deepest tragedy of her young life: her first experience with the loss of a loved one. During the entire flight homeward she kept her hand on Ted's knee, but she did not utter a word. CHAPTER XVI _Searching the Ocean_ Louise and Ted Mackay did not go to the police headquarters that night. They were too miserable, too discouraged by the outcome of their excursion to the island. After leaving the plane at the airport, Ted called Captain Magee on the telephone, and briefly related the results of their flight. Supper was a dreary affair for them both. It was only by putting forth a tremendous effort that they ate at all--in an attempt to stave off exhaustion. The ice cream, at least, tasted good to Louise, for she was still very hot. The worst ordeal of all came after the meal, just as the saddened young couple were passing through the hotel lobby to take the elevator to their room. Louise suddenly recognized two familiar figures at the desk, two men who had just arrived with their luggage. Mr. Crowley and Mr. Carlton--the fathers of the two unfortunate girls! The tears which Louise had bravely forced back ever since her collapse at the discovery of the matchbox on the island, rushed to her eyes again. How could they ever tell these two men the terrible news? For an instant she hoped they would not see her or her husband, that she could at least put off the evil tidings until the morning. But it was not to be. Linda's father recognized her instantly, and came quickly towards her. "Louise!" he exclaimed, holding out his hand. "And Ted! Any news?" Louise could not answer for the sob that was choking her, and Ted, shy as he always was, knew it was his duty to explain. "Bad news, Sir," he said. "We had information this morning that the girls were stranded on an island in the ocean, and that their autogiro had been stolen from them. As you probably read in the newspaper, it was found yesterday.... We--Lou and I--flew to the island where the girls were supposed to be, this afternoon, and found evidences of their camp--burnt out fires--but no trace of the girls." Mr. Carlton looked grave. "But they may have been rescued," suggested Mr. Crowley, who had the same optimistic disposition as his daughter. "Possibly," admitted Ted. "But if they had, wouldn't we have heard? The whole country is waiting for news of those two brave girls." "I'm afraid you're right," agreed Mr. Carlton, darkly. "Yes, you must be right. Foul play----" "Or the ocean!" put in Louise. "Oh, the cruel, dreadful ocean! If it couldn't swallow Linda up on her flight to Paris, it had to have its revenge now!" "Have you had your dinner, Sir?" asked Ted of Mr. Carlton. "Yes. On the train. Suppose we get our rooms--I'll ask for a private sitting-room--and then we can all go up and discuss the matter together from every angle, and decide upon what is the best thing for us to do." Louise brightened at this ray of hope. "Then you're not going to give up yet, Mr. Carlton?" she inquired. "Never, till we find them--dead or alive. We're going to think of no news as good news." Mr. Crowley nodded his approval. "I have a week's vacation," added Ted, "and I shall be at your service." "Thank you, my boy," answered Mr. Carlton, gratefully. He was a great admirer of Ted Mackay, ever since he had recovered from his prejudice against him because he was the son of a ne'er-do-well. The new-comers made their arrangements at the desk, and were fortunate enough to secure a very pleasant suite. Louise and Ted went up in the elevator with them, and Mr. Carlton ordered coffee to be sent to the room. They settled down into the easy chairs and Louise poured the iced-coffee. The evening was hot, but there were large windows on three sides of the sitting-room, and a lovely breeze was blowing. Mr. Carlton brought out cigars and offered one to Ted. "But I suppose you'd rather have a cigarette," he said, when Ted refused. "No thank you, Sir. I never smoke. A great many of us pilots don't. We want to keep as fit as possible." Mr. Carlton nodded. Linda had never expressed any desire to smoke, and he supposed it was for the same reason. "There are two places where the girls might be," he said slowly, as he puffed on his cigar. "On another of those small islands, off the coast, or in some boat--on the ocean. If they had reached the coast, we should have heard of it." "A boat!" repeated Louise, with sudden inspiration. "There was that broken down motor-boat, that the girl and the gangster used to get to the island! Could Dot and Linda have gone off in that?" "What boat?" demanded Mr. Carlton and Mr. Crowley, both at once. Louise explained by repeating most of the story which they had heard from Susie that morning. "Funny we didn't think of that before," observed Ted. "Come to remember, I didn't see any boat this afternoon. Did you, Lou?" "No, I didn't. And we searched the whole island," she explained to the older men. "We'd surely have seen it if there had been one." "This sounds hopeful!" exclaimed Mr. Crowley, joyfully. "If it didn't have a leak----" "But didn't you say that it was broken?" asked Mr. Carlton. "The girl said the engine was broken, but as far as I know, the boat itself was sound," replied Ted. "Linda could fix the engine!" cried Louise, almost hysterical in her relief. For the first time since the finding of the matchbox, she actually believed that Linda and Dot were still alive. "We'll work on that theory, anyway," decided Mr. Carlton. "And go out on the ocean tomorrow." Before they could discuss their plans any further, the telephone on the desk interrupted them, and Mr. Carlton was informed that there were two young men who wanted to see him--Ralph Clavering and James Valier. "Well, of all things!" exclaimed Mr. Carlton, who had not even known that the boys had started South. "Yes," he added to the clerk on the phone, "ask them to come up right away, by all means." "Who? What?" demanded Louise, eagerly. "Any news?" "I don't know yet. Ralph and Jim are here." "They would be," smiled Louise. Linda could never get away from Ralph Clavering, no matter how far she went. A minute later the boys appeared, dressed in camping clothes, looking very unlike the neat, immaculate young men they always appeared to be at Spring City, or at Green Falls. Even if they took part in athletics at home, their white flannels were always spotless. But now, except for the fact that their faces were clean and shaved, they looked like tramps. Ralph and Jim were just as much surprised to see Ted and Louise as the latter were at their visit. "Where in the world have you been?" demanded Louise, in amazement at their appearance. "You both look as if you had been ship-wrecked and lost besides." "We have," muttered Jim, sinking wearily into a seat, and extending his long legs in front of him. "Please pardon our slouching, Lou--but we're dead." "But where have you been?" repeated Mr. Carlton. "In the Okefenokee Swamp!" answered Ralph. "And if Lou weren't here, I'd tell you what it's like, in no uncertain language!" Mr. Carlton smiled, and yet he was horror stricken. If these boys found it so dreadful, what must it have seemed like to Linda? "Tell us about it!" he urged. "But wait, have you had your supper?" "Yes. We had food along with us. We left the canoe at the edge of the stream, and taxied back here, because we have rooms in this hotel. They told us at the desk that 'Miss Carlton's father had arrived,' so we didn't wait even to change our clothing. We had to get the news of the girls immediately." "I'm afraid there isn't much to tell," sighed Louise. "At least nothing hopeful." Briefly she repeated what she and Ted had been doing all afternoon, as a result of Susie's capture and story, and she displayed the matchbox, with the name of Spring City stamped on its lid. "I recall Linda's getting that from her aunt," remarked Ralph, dolefully. "She asked for half a dozen boxes, and Miss Carlton got them right away, so she wouldn't forget." "Now tell us what you boys have been doing," urged Mr. Crowley. "And Louise, why don't you pour them some of this iced-coffee? It really is very refreshing." Briefly Ralph told his story, aided now and then by Jim. Their second expedition into the swamp had been as useless as their first, though they admitted the superiority of a canoe over a motor-boat, if one knew where to go. But they had become hopelessly lost in a couple of hours, in spite of their maps, and, as time passed, they became all the more certain that the girls were not in the swamp. They decided to turn back, in order to concentrate their efforts on the islands near where the autogiro had been found. Susie's story naturally confirmed their suspicions, and they instantly agreed with Mr. Carlton to abandon all further search of the Okefenokee. "I believe the thing to do," announced the latter, after serious contemplation, "is to hire a yacht, and cruise all along the Georgia and Florida coast. The most reasonable explanation to me is that Linda and Dot are adrift somewhere in that motor-boat. Either the engine is broken beyond repair, or the gasoline has given out." "Or that terrible storm has wrecked them," faltered Louise, who could not silence her fear of the ocean. "Upset that little boat, and----" "Don't, Lou!" cried Jim. "Don't even think of things like that, unless we find an empty boat!" "I'll try not to," she promised. "Well, whatever has happened, the ocean is the place for us to be, if we hope to rescue the girls," concluded Mr. Carlton, "You all agree on that point?" Everyone assented, and Ralph and Jim expressed their desire to get into action immediately. "We ought to be able to get a yacht tomorrow," continued Mr. Carlton. "Because of the publicity of this affair someone who has one ready will probably be glad to rent it to us on the spot. I think I'll go to the newspaper office tonight, and have the request broadcast by radio." "Great!" exclaimed Louise, jumping up excitedly. "And can we all go with you tomorrow, on the cruise, I mean, Mr. Carlton?" "You can do just as you prefer--go with me, or use your own plane to fly around over the islands." "I think that would be the better plan for us, Sir," put in Ted. "And we can keep in touch with you by signals." The group separated at last, the older men to call their families by long-distance, the young people to get a good night's sleep after their strenuous day. In the morning they re-assembled at breakfast, when Mr. Carlton announced the good news that he had been offered a yacht by a wealthy man in Jacksonville. "He even refused to take any rent for it, much as I urged him to," he added. "And he's lending us the crew besides. It seems too good to be true." "All of which goes to show just how popular Linda is--with everybody!" explained Louise. "Oh, we simply must find her!" There were no preparations to be made for the cruise, because the owner of the yacht assured Mr. Carlton that everything was in readiness, so by ten o'clock on the morning of July third, the little party, composed of the two fathers and the two boy-friends of the lost girls stepped aboard the boat. It was a beautiful little yacht, complete in every detail. Under any other circumstances the men would have been overjoyed at the prospect of such a pleasant trip. As it was, they were too worried to think of anything but Linda and Dot. "What a marvelous time we could be having if the girls were aboard!" lamented Ralph. "Dance and play bridge all day, every day, with no other fellows to cut in on us, and take them away! I say, Jim, we might even come back engaged if we had a chance like that!" "Much more likely they'd be so sick of us they'd never want to see us again!" returned the other, shrewdly. "No--cruising's all right. But I'd rather be in Green Falls if Linda and Dot were with us." "Maybe this will teach Linda a lesson," grumbled Ralph. Then he suddenly remembered her job, with the Spraying Company in Atlanta. He couldn't pretend to be sorry if she lost it. The speedy little yacht cruised all day along the coast, while the men played bridge, and smoked, and ate the most excellent meals, cooked and served by an efficient staff. But underneath all this comfort ran an under-current of anxiety, especially towards evening, when darkness came on, and no sign of the girls had been seen. Several airplanes had flown over their heads during the day, and once they saw Ted's plane. Dropping low, Louise waved her handkerchief, which was the pre-arranged signal to tell them that the flyers had found nothing, and Ralph waved his in return, conveying the same information. Should they have anything to report, Ted announced that he would put his plane through a series of stunts, and, in the case of the yacht's making a discovery, Jim Valier promised to climb up on the rail. But the airplane and the yacht passed each other with only a dismal fluttering of handkerchiefs. "Something's bound to happen tomorrow," said Jim, as he crawled into his bunk that night. "It'll be the fourth of July!" "By Jove! It will!" exclaimed Ralph. "We ought to get some bang-up excitement!" But the thing that happened was what they had all been silently dreading--the fate which only Louise had mentioned, that night in the hotel sitting-room. About noon--off the coast of Florida--Jim Valier spotted an overturned old motor-boat, bouncing helplessly about on the ocean! CHAPTER XVII _On to Cuba_ When the storm came at dawn on the thirtieth of June, it awakened Linda first. As the rain descended upon the slickers that covered the girls, and upon their faces, Dot merely buried her head sleepily under the raincoat, but Linda sat bolt upright on the bed of leaves. The wind was howling about the lonely island, and the rain was pouring down in sheets. The blackness of it all was terrifying, yet she knew that she must get up. "Dot!" she whispered, hoarsely. "Wake up!" Her companion opened her eyes sleepily as she pushed the slicker aside. "Yes.... Why Linda, it's--pouring!" "It certainly is." Linda was slipping on her shoes and her knickers over her pajamas. "We've got to rescue the boat." "Why?" "Because water mustn't get into the gasoline. And because the tide might come up high enough to wash the boat out to sea." "O.K.," replied Dot, now quite wide awake. "I'm with you, Linda--in just a second." Holding on to each other's hands, they made their way with difficulty down to the beach where the boat had been left, and together they dragged it back and covered it with one of the slickers. Panting from the effort, they dropped back on the sand and sat down, not bothering about the rain that was descending relentlessly upon them, soaking them to the skin. "We might as well use the other slicker as a roof for ourselves," suggested Dot, as she got to her feet again. "We can hang it over some bushes, and crawl under it." "That's an idea!" approved Linda. "I was wondering how one raincoat could keep us both dry." "It won't keep us dry--we're wet now. But it will protect us from the worst force of this cloud-burst." They went back to their camping site and arranged the slicker as best they could--carefully putting the bag of money and the box of tools under it, before they crawled in themselves. The bushes were wet, and so was the ground, but the girls were saved the discomfort of having the rain actually pour in their faces. They watched the storm for some time, hoping that it would soon abate, and finally, becoming drowsy, they fell asleep again, with their feet sticking out under the covering. Cramped by the awkward position, they awakened in a couple of hours. Daylight had arrived--but not sunlight. It was still raining steadily and dismally. "Don't you suppose we can go today?" asked Dot. "Maybe later on," replied Linda, cheerfully. "There's one thing good about this, Dot. We can get a drink." "How heavenly!" exclaimed the other, sitting up. "But how do we manage it? We won't get much by just opening our mouths!" "Get up carefully. I'm sure there's a lot of water lodging on the top of this slicker. Wait--get the thermos bottles out of the tool-box first. We'll use the cups, and then stand them up to catch the rain as it falls." Linda's surmise was correct; there was so much water on the slicker that it was in danger of collapsing any moment. They dipped their cups into the pool and drank eagerly. How good it tasted to their parched throats! "There must be more down on the boat's cover," suggested Dot. "Let's get it, and pour it into our thermos bottles." When they had carried out this idea, they set the bottles firmly in the sand, and crept back under cover. "Shall we eat?" asked Dot, after watching the rain for some minutes in silence. "Let's wait a while--till noon, if we can. We have only those two oranges and a half a dozen crackers. It'll be something to look forward to." "There's still some tea and sugar--and one can of milk," the other reminded her. "You know we didn't use them, because we couldn't afford the water. Now it'll be different." "I'd forgotten all about that!" exclaimed Linda, smiling. "Let's have tea and one cracker for lunch, and save the oranges for supper." "But how can we ever hope to build a fire in this rain? We'd never find any dry sticks--and if we made one under here, we'd be smoked out." "I hadn't thought of that. But we can make cold tea. If we leave the leaves in the water long enough, they'll flavor it--anyway, that's what I read in an ad one time." "You think of everything, Linda! It's no wonder you've gotten out of a dozen disasters that would have killed an ordinary girl!" "Now Dot!" protested the other girl, modestly. "Just so long as we get out of this one, I'll be satisfied." To help pass the tediousness of the long gloomy day, the girls took a brisk walk encircling the entire island. Soaked as they were before they started, they decided it would be foolish to stop because of the rain. The sight of the ocean, wild and angry as it was because of the storm, aroused their wonder and admiration, and rewarded them for their wet excursion. In vain they squinted through the spyglasses for a glimpse of the autogiro, but even the island on which it had been left by Susie was obliterated from their vision. It was no wonder, therefore, that they did not see the plane which brought Sergeant Worth and the two pilots to that other island. All unaware that Ladybug had flown home that afternoon, the girls finally settled down after dark to try to sleep under their improvised roof. When they awakened the following morning, they were disappointed not to see the sun. It was still raining, but no longer in torrents; the storm had slackened to a monotonous drizzle. "We better go," said Linda, as they breakfasted on tea and two crackers apiece. "I can keep the engine pretty well covered up. And this rain may keep up for days." "I shouldn't care to keep up this reducing diet for days," observed Dot. "If we were only too fat, Linda, how we would welcome such a chance to starve ourselves!" "Yes.... If--Oh, Dot, don't you wish we had a thick steak now--smothered in mushrooms----" "With creamed potatoes and fresh peas----" "Fruit salad and cheese wafers----" "Meringues, salted nuts, and coffee!" Both girls suddenly laughed out loud. "Anyway, we can both have our drinks of water," concluded Dot. "And they say thirst is worse than hunger." "We'll fill both thermos bottles before we push off," said Linda. "But I'm counting on reaching the Ladybug before noon, and then we ought to get to the Georgia coast by two o'clock." "Where we eat that dinner!" added Dot. Carrying their belongings, they walked down to the beach in their rain-soaked clothing, and pushed the boat out towards the water. The ocean was still so high and so rough that Linda hesitated a moment. "Do you think we can make it?" asked Dot, noticing the expression of doubt on her companion's face. "Yes, I think so. That island didn't look far, yesterday." "That's true. But I can't see it now, Linda. Suppose the storm had washed the Ladybug away--or even the whole island?" Linda shuddered, realizing that there was that possibility. She took the glasses from her pocket, and peered through them in the direction she remembered the island to be. "I can't see a thing but ocean," she stated. "The waves are so high. But let's go in that direction anyway. It must be there." She turned to the motor-boat and attempted to start the engine, but for some minutes she labored in vain, for the engine refused to catch. Was everything in the world against them, Dot silently wondered, as she watched Linda repeat her efforts with infinite patience. At last, however, there was a sputter, and the motor started. The girls pushed the boat into the water and climbed into it. It would have been great sport riding the waves, had it not been for the grave danger attached. This was no sporting contest, with a life-guard in readiness to rescue them if anything went wrong! It was a race between life and death. The wind had died down, however, and the sea was gradually growing calmer. Up and down the little boat bobbed, now in the trough of a wave, seemingly under a mountain of water--now rising again to a height that made the girls think of a scenic-railway at a pleasure park. Dot screamed with excitement, but Linda's lips were set in a firm line of determination, her attention riveted on the engine. By some miracle, it seemed to the girls, the little boat forged triumphantly ahead, with its motor running smoothly. A feeling of confidence was gradually taking the place of fear, and Dot strained her eyes for the island that was their goal. Half an hour later she spotted it, and almost upset the boat in her joy. "There it is, Linda!" she cried, excitedly. "Oh, Linda, we're saved! We're----" She stopped suddenly, hardly able to believe her eyes. The autogiro was gone! "What's the matter, Dot?" asked Linda, unable to understand the abrupt end of her chum's rejoicing. "Anything wrong!" "Yes.... The Ladybug's gone!" "What? Oh, it can't be!" Linda's voice was hoarse with terror. "Look again, Dot--you have the glasses." Dot squinted her eyes, but was rewarded by no trace of the plane. "You take a look, Linda," she suggested. "Maybe you can see better." The other girl eagerly caught the glasses which her companion tossed, and with trembling fingers held them to her eyes. The island was in plain sight now, but it was a ghastly fact that the autogiro had completely disappeared. Linda continued to gaze at the barren spot, her eyes fixed and staring, as if she were looking at death itself. Then, dropping the glasses into her lap, she seemed to be thinking intently. "It's true, Dot," she said, in an expressionless tone. "Yet that must be the right island.... Something has happened.... I don't know whether the wind could have lifted the Ladybug--or whether that gangster came back for it.... In any case, there's only one thing for us to do." "Yes?" faltered Dot, biting her lips to keep back the tears. She must not fail Linda now, in her darkest hour. "Turn the boat around, and make for the shore. We mustn't waste another drop of gasoline. It--won't last forever." "Shall we go back to our island--if we can find it?" asked Dot, as she turned the wheel. "No, we'll go straight west.... Or is that the west? Oh, if we only had a compass, or the sun to guide us.... But that must be the right direction." Linda was speaking bravely, trying to keep her voice normal, and her companion took heart from her manner. The boat went forward in the opposite direction, presumably towards the coast. Half an hour passed in silence, each girl intent upon her task. Linda took out her extra can of gasoline and filled the tank. Once Dot drank some water from the thermos bottle and reminded Linda of hers. All the while they continued to keep a sharp look-out for the coast. Another hour passed, and the girls' hunger began to assault them. The rain continued to fall, and weariness stole over them both. They were too weak and too tired to talk. At last Linda broke the silence by asking Dot to take another good look for the coast through the glasses. She did not add that it was vital this time, that the gasoline was running very low. On a rough sea like this, oars would be out of the question, even if the girls had been as strong as boys. "I can't see anything but water," was the reply. But just at that moment Linda saw something that held her speechless with terror. The boat was springing a leak! Water appeared to be pouring in by the bucket-full! As the significance of this catastrophe dawned upon Linda, her throat grew dry and parched; the words with which she meant to tell Dot choked her so that she could not speak. How, oh how could she possibly inform her brave chum of what was literally their death sentence! It was Dot, however, who spoke instead. Rather, she cried out hysterically, "Linda, I see a boat! A steam-boat! Coming towards us!" "Where?" gasped the other girl, her heart beating wildly between hope and fear. "Right ahead! Look! You can see her without the glasses now!" Linda shot a swift glance at the approaching boat, then looked again at the floor, where the water was fast deepening. Would the rescue come in time? And would the boat stop at their signal of distress? Wild with excitement, both girls raised their arms and waved desperately at the approaching craft, until it was only fifty yards away. Then they both shouted with a power and volume that they would not have believed they possessed. The oncoming boat decreased its speed until it was almost beside the girls' sinking craft. To their overwhelming joy and relief, they saw that it was stopping. A man appeared on the deck, and called to them in a pleasant voice. "In trouble, girls?" "Our boat's sinking!" shouted Linda to Dot's amazement, for the latter was still unaware of the immediate tragedy that was threatening them. "Can you take us aboard?" "Sure!" he replied. "Wait till I get a rope ladder." While he was gone, Linda pointed to the water in the boat, which by this time Dot had seen, and signaled to the other girl to say nothing of their experiences to this man, until they learned more about him. Linda's recent association with criminals had made her exceedingly wary. "Pull up closer," instructed the man, as he returned with the ladder. "Now, can you climb?" "Easily!" Dot assured him. "We're in knickers, anyhow." "May we throw our stuff on board first?" inquired Linda, picking up the bag which contained, besides their few possessions, all the bank's money. "Sure! Anything breakable in it?" "Only a couple of mirrors," returned Dot, who had regained her cheerfulness with amazing speed. "And we're not afraid of bad luck," she added. A moment later the girls climbed to safety, and pressed their rescuer's hand in gratitude. It seemed like a miracle to them both, and the old seaman was like an angel from heaven. "How soon will we get to the coast?" asked Linda eagerly. The man shook his head. "We can't go to the coast," he replied. "We're headed for Cuba." "But we must get back as soon as possible," pleaded Linda, beginning to wonder whether she was about to be kidnapped again. "You were headed for the open ocean," the seaman informed her, to both girls' consternation. "And that's where we have to go. I can't stop at the United States.... I'm awfully sorry...." CHAPTER XVIII _Luck for Ted and Louise_ Linda and Dot stood still on the deck of the old boat, grasping the rail with their hands, and looking intently at their rescuer. He was a typical old seaman, with tanned, roughened face, a gray beard, and kindly blue eyes. "That was a narrow escape," he remarked. "What do you girls mean by going out on a rough sea like this, in a shell like you had?" "We couldn't help it," Linda replied. "And we thought the boat was safe. We didn't know it was going to spring a leak.... Would it take very long to run us to the coast, Mr.--Captain----?" "Smallweed," supplied the man. "And everybody calls me 'Cap'n'." "Well, would it, Captain Smallweed?" repeated Linda, amused at the name. He ought to be at home on the island they had just come from, she thought--there were so many "small weeds" growing there! "Too long fer me to stop," he replied, to the girls' dismay. "I got to get back to my family, in Havana." His blue eyes twinkled. "Why? What have you girls got in that bag, that's so important to deliver in a hurry?" "You think we're boot-leggers!" laughed Dot. "Don't you, Captain?" "I wouldn't be surprised at anything," he answered, smiling. "I've seen just as nice lookin' girls as you----" "I'm afraid we're not very nice looking," sighed Linda, surveying their drenched, bedraggled clothing. "But we're really not boot-leggers.... We want to get back so that we can telephone to our families. They probably think that storm was the end of us." "Well, I'm sorry, but I can't go off my course. Like to, if I had the time----" "Well, if you can't, you can't--that's all there is to it," said Linda, philosophically. "We're glad to be alive at all, and I don't suppose a couple of days will make any difference." "How long do you think it will take you to get to Cuba?" put in Dot anxiously. There was no use fussing, of course, but she could not forget that her mother and father would be frantic by this time. "I'm reckonin' on dockin' at Havana the fourth of July. This is only the first, but these are stormy seas, and we have to expect delays.... Now come on inside, out o' this drizzle. You girls are drenched--I'll have to give you the only cabin I got. To get yourselves dry in." Stooping over, he picked up Linda's tool-box, and finding it heavy, eyed it suspiciously. "You girls gangsters?" he asked, unexpectedly. "Got any guns on you?" Both girls felt themselves growing red at this accusation, yet they could not deny it wholly. "That box has the tools in it which I used to fix up the engine of the motor-boat," Linda finally explained. "And you can take our word that we're not gangsters." But they were exceedingly nervous as they followed the Captain to the cabin where there were two bunks, one on top of the other. Suppose he should decide to search them--and find not only the two revolvers, but all that money besides! He would never believe their story! "When you get dry, I'll take you over the whole boat," he said. "I carry tobacco up the coast every couple of months. Used to have a sail-boat--that was the real thing! But this little lady's speedy--and better in a storm like we just had." "How can we ever thank you enough, Captain Smallweed?" cried Dot, suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of gratitude for their safety. "Our fathers will send you a handsome reward when we get back home." "Never mind that," smiled the man. "I've got a girl of my own--she's married now--but she's still a kid to me, and I know how I'd want her treated.... Now, you can bolt this door if you want to, so there won't be any danger of either of the two other fellows aboard coming in accidentally--and you can get yourselves dry." "There's--there's just one thing, Captain," stammered Linda. "We're dreadfully hungry. Could we have a piece of bread, or anything to eat?" "You poor kids!" he exclaimed, in a fatherly tone. "Come on down to the kitchen, and you can help yourselves." Though the food he provided was not the steak dinner they had been dreaming about on the island, it tasted good to those two starved girls. Captain Smallweed made tea for them, and brought out bread and smoked sausages, and Linda and Dot ate every crumb of the repast. "We were marooned on an island during that storm," Linda explained. "And we have had nothing but a couple of oranges and a few crackers for two days." "Well, you'll get a good supper," the Captain promised them. "That's why I'm not givin' you more now. I'll knock on your door about eight o'clock, if you ain't awake before then. That's when we usually eat." When the girls were finally alone in their cabin, they gazed first at their bag of money, then at each other, and suddenly started to laugh. It was such a ridiculous situation. During those lonely days of exile on the island they had pictured their return so differently. It would be a grand occasion, with exciting telephone calls to their families, a marvelous dinner at a hotel, perhaps a radio broadcast of their safe landing! Instead of all that, here they were, stowed away in a shabby boat, suspected of crime, and feasting on stale bread and hot dogs for their banquet! Worst of all there would be three weary days of waiting before informing the world of their safety! Yet they were thankful indeed that they had been rescued at all, and by a man as kind-hearted as the old sea captain. "I don't really think he'll bother any more about that bag," said Linda, as she took off her wet shoes. "If only we can get it back to Jacksonville safely, from Cuba! If we only had the Ladybug!" "It's a mystery where she could have vanished to," observed Dot. "But I suppose that is a small thing, compared to saving our lives." "You'll never go anywhere with me again," sighed Linda. "Dot!" she exclaimed abruptly, "I'd forgotten all about my job!" "I hadn't forgotten I was to start back North today," remarked the other girl. "Jim Valier was going to motor over and meet me at the station when my train came in." "Poor Jim!" sighed Linda, little thinking that the young man had no intention of doing that. "He'll have a good wait. But Jim can always sleep, on any occasion." "I guess he won't expect me.... We must be reported as missing by now--in all the newspapers." "Of course. I'd forgotten...." The girls wrapped themselves in blankets and slept the rest of the afternoon, to waken in time to see the sun, which had appeared at last, just setting over the sea. Their clothing was still damp and disheveled, but they put it on and went up on deck to hunt their benefactor. "We want you to let us cook," announced Dot, as she spied him. "We insist on making ourselves useful." The man smiled pleasantly. "All right," he agreed. "You can--tomorrow. But supper's ready now. Come on down." They followed the Captain into the kitchen, where another man was placing a dish of potatoes on the wooden table, which did not boast of a cover. "Meet Steve, ladies," her said--"my friend the pilot." The girls nodded, and Dot asked, with anxiety, "But who's guiding the boat now, while Mr. Steve eats his supper?" Both men laughed at her concern. "There's another one besides us. He takes his turn, and so do I. We never all three eat or sleep at the same time." It was a merry meal, though an exceedingly greasy one of fried potatoes and underdone bacon. The coffee, too, was none too good--for it was weak and muddy-looking. Nevertheless, both girls praised the supper extravagantly, for it tasted good to them, but they inwardly resolved to show the men the next day how food ought to be cooked. The next two days passed pleasantly enough, for the girls were able to busy themselves with the meals, and the men's appreciation was plenty of reward for their efforts. In their off hours they relaxed by watching the ocean and scanning the sky for airplanes, the make of which Linda could often guess. Sometimes they played checkers with each other, or with Captain Smallweed, to the latter's delight. But never again was the suspicious-looking tool-box mentioned, until Linda herself handed it over to Steve, saying that she did not want to bother to take it to Havana. By the time July third arrived, their boat was well out of the range of the yacht that was cruising in search of them, and on July fourth--the day that Jim Valier spotted the overturned motor-boat early in the morning--Captain Smallweed docked safely at Cuba. "Where do you girls want to go now?" asked the Captain, as the party stepped ashore. "Want to come along home with me, and meet the wife? She can rig you up in some decent clothes." "Thank you very much," replied Linda, "but we want to get to a telephone as soon as possible, so that we can get in touch with our families. So if you would just get us a taxi, and send us to the best hotel in Havana----" "In those rigs?" inquired the other, in amazement. "Everybody will stare at you! They dress well in Cuba, you know." "Oh, we're past caring about appearances," laughed Linda. "So stop that taxi for us, will you please, Captain?... And thank you a thousand times for all you have done for us." "You'll hear from our fathers soon," added Dot, as she too shook hands with the old man. Cautiously protecting the bag, into which Linda had stuffed the revolvers under the money, the girls taxied to the best hotel in the city. The driver eyed them suspiciously, and the clerk at the desk stared at them as if they were hoboes. But he condescended to assign them a room when they showed evidence of paying in advance. "We want a long-distance wire first of all," announced Linda. "We'd like to telephone from our rooms----" She stopped abruptly, for two slender arms were suddenly thrust about her neck, and kisses were being pressed violently upon her lips and cheeks. Louise Mackay stood behind them! Louise, with her husband, both in flyers' suits. Try as she could, the girl could not utter a word. The tears ran down her cheeks, and she continued to kiss first Linda and then Dot in the wildest ecstasy. "I can't believe it!" she said at last. "Is it really, truly you, Linda darling?" "What's left of us," replied Linda, laughing. "Did you ever see two such sights as we are?" "I never saw anyone or anything in my life that looked half so good to me!" returned Louise, fervently. She stepped back and laid her hand on her husband's arm, for so far Ted had not had a chance to say anything, or be included in the welcome. "Tell me it's true, Ted--that I'm not dreaming!" she urged. "I simply can't believe it." "It's the best, the truest thing in the world," the young man assured her. "We were positive you were dead," Louise explained. "We had so much evidence to prove it--the empty island where you were marooned, the overturned motor-boat that Jim Valier spotted early this morning----" "Jim Valier!" repeated Dot, in amazement. "Where would Jim see our old boat?" "Jim and Ralph and your two fathers are on a yacht, searching for you. They broadcast by radio any news they get. And Ted and I have flown to every island anywhere near the coast. We finished searching them all, so we landed here this morning, just for a rest." "Then you have a plane!" cried Linda, in delight. "You can take us back to Florida! I'd so hate to get into another boat--I simply loathe the sight of them." "Do tell us what happened to you," urged Ted. "I don't understand how we missed you everywhere." "It's a pretty long story," replied Dot. "I think we better phone our families first. They must be almost crazy." "They are," agreed Ted. "You go up in your room and phone them while I go to a radio station and broadcast the news." "And I'll tell you what I'll do in the meanwhile," offered Louise. "I'll go out and buy you some decent clothing!" CHAPTER XIX _The Return_ Until the second of July, Linda's aunt, Miss Emily Carlton, had managed, with Mrs. Crowley's help, to keep hoping that the girls were still alive. Then her brother's long-distance call from Jacksonville, informing her that he was going to sea in a yacht in search of Linda and Dot confirmed all the fears she was secretly cherishing. That night she collapsed and went to bed a nervous wreck. After once mentioning the fact that Linda was still reported missing in the newspapers, Miss Carlton's housekeeper learned not to speak of the girl again. It seemed as if the older woman could not bear to talk about her niece; in the few days since her disappearance she had aged rapidly. She lay listlessly on her bed, not seeing anyone, not even her dear friend Mrs. Crowley. It was about noon on the fourth of July that the telephone operator informed the housekeeper that Havana was calling Miss Carlton. The good woman replied that her mistress was sick in bed, and that she would take the message for her. Her hands trembled as she awaited what she believed would be the announcement of Linda's death. Faint and far off came the astounding words: "Aunt Emily, this is Linda." "Wait!" cried the woman, shaking as if she had heard a ghost. "I'll get your aunt, Miss Linda." Rushing to the bed-room, she handed Miss Carlton the bed-side telephone. "It's Miss Linda," she whispered. Doubting her senses, the patient sat up and took the instrument. "Hello," she said, doubtfully. "Darling Aunt Emily! It's Linda!" was the almost unbelievable reply at the other end of the wire. Miss Carlton sobbed; she could not say a word. "Aunt Emily? Are you there?" demanded the girl. "Yes, yes--dear! Oh, are you all right? Not hurt?" "Not a bit. Dot and I are both fine--she's talking to her mother now. We're--in Cuba." "Cuba!" repeated the startled woman. "I thought it was the Okefenokee Swamp, or the Atlantic Ocean! Your father and Mr. Crowley are looking for you." "Yes, I know. Ted and Louise are here, and Ted's broadcasting the news of our safe arrival now.... Probably Daddy has heard by this time." "When will you be home, dear?" inquired Miss Carlton. "Soon, I hope.... But we have to stop in Jacksonville first.... Aunt Emily, couldn't you and Mrs. Crowley come to Jacksonville? We're just dying to see you!" Miss Carlton considered; she hated to tell Linda that she was sick in bed. But wait--was she? Wasn't it only nerves after all? Why, this good news made her feel like a different person! "All right, dear," she agreed. "If Mrs. Crowley will, I'll try to arrange it. Shall I send a wire?" "Yes," replied Linda. "To Captain Magee, at the City Hall, Jacksonville. I'll be there in a day or so.... Now good-by, dear Auntie!" While Linda waited for Dot to come back from her call, which the latter had put in from another instrument, she opened the bag and took out their few possessions that were covering the money. They must be very careful not to let anything happen to all that wealth, she thought--they must never go out of the room and leave it, if only for a minute. How dreadful it would be if it were stolen now, after they had successfully brought it through all their dangerous adventures! Dot returned in a couple of minutes, and the girls got ready to enjoy the luxury of a real bath, in a real tub. How good the warm water felt, how wonderful the big, soft bath towels! They spent an hour bathing and washing their hair, and trying to make their nails presentable with Louise's manicure set. They had scarcely finished when the latter returned, followed by a porter carrying innumerable boxes and packages in his arms. "I've bought everything for you from the skin out," she announced gayly, as she put the load on the floor. "Even hats and shoes, though I knew I was taking a chance at them. But I remembered that you and I often wore each other's things at school, Linda, and I judged that Dot would wear a size smaller. I do hope you can wear them, just till you get to your trunks at Jacksonville." "You're an angel, Lou!" cried Linda, excited at the prospect of looking clean and respectable again. "See if you like them," urged Louise. "I got a blue dress for you, Linda, to match your eyes--and a pink one for Dot." "To match my eyes?" teased the latter. All three girls began immediately to untie the packages, and drew out the purchases one after another with exclamations of admiration. Dot said that she was so used to seeing dirty knickers that she had positively forgotten what dainty clothing looked like. "Well, hurry up and dress!" urged Louise. "We want to eat lunch in about ten minutes. Ted means to take off at two o'clock, if you girls think you can be ready by then." "We surely can!" cried Linda, joyfully. She couldn't wait to get back. "You'll burn your old stuff, won't you?" asked Louise. "This bag's a sight, too--why not stuff your old clothing into it, and ask the porter to take it away!" Linda and Dot let out a wild cry of protest at the same moment, and the other girl frowned. "Why not?" she inquired. "Sh!" whispered Linda. "That bag has thousands of dollars in it. Belonging to the Jacksonville bank." "Oh! You really have that money? And kept it all this time?" "Yes. But don't say a word about it out loud. We'll take it with us into the dining-room, and wear our new hats, so nobody will think it queer." They found Ted in the lobby of the hotel as they got out of the elevator, and they went into the dining-room to order the meal that Linda and Dot had been longing for on the island. It tasted good to them, but not so good, they had to admit, as the sausages and stale bread and hot tea which Captain Smallweed provided, when they were almost starved. It was during the meal that they pieced the story together. Linda began by telling of the finding of the money in the bags and the discovery of the last member of the gang on the island. "But why he ran away without shooting us is a mystery to us," put in Dot. "He thought that you had armed policemen with you," explained Louise. "We learned that later from Susie. She was captured a couple of days ago--in Panama." "Where is she now?" demanded Linda, excitedly. "In jail, of course." "And the man they called the 'Doc'?" "No," replied Ted. "Unfortunately he got away--fled the country. Lucky you girls got hold of the money, or the bank would never have seen it again.... And by the way, there's a big reward--ten thousand dollars, I believe." "Ten thousand dollars!" repeated Dot, in amazement. "What do you think of that, Linda?" "Wonderful!" cried the latter, joyously. "Five thousand apiece. Well, I'm glad you're going to get something out of this dreadful experience, Dot--that I selfishly dragged you into. And my part will go towards a new autogiro." "A new autogiro!" exclaimed Louise, in surprise. "You don't need one, Linda. The Ladybug's safe and sound--at the Jacksonville airport." "What? You mean that?" Linda seized the other girl's hand in almost incredulous rapture. "How did it get there?" "The police found it that day it stormed so. And a pilot flew it back to Jacksonville." Linda and Dot gazed at each other in full realization at last of the mysterious disappearance of the plane which they had mourned as lost forever. If Linda was eager to get back to Jacksonville before, she was doubly so now. She could hardly contain her excitement during that flight across the Gulf of Mexico and over the state of Florida to the northern part. She kept urging Ted to put on more speed, to let the motor out to its limit, but the young man, realizing the load he was carrying, was not to be tempted beyond his better judgment. They arrived at Jacksonville just as it was growing dusk, and flew over the city, now so familiar to them all, to the airport on its outskirts. Gracefully the skillful pilot swooped down the field to his landing. The usual number of employees came out to greet them, but hardly had the girls climbed out of the plane when a resounding shout went up over the field. Linda Carlton and Dorothy Crowley had been recognized! A crowd collected immediately, a crowd that had been prepared by Ted's radio message that afternoon, to welcome the two popular girls back to civilization. It was all that Linda and Dot could do to wave and shout greetings in return. "I just want one look at my Ladybug," said Linda. "If you good people will let me get through----" At this request, an accommodating official picked her right up on his shoulder, and carried her, amid the laughter of the crowd, triumphantly to the hangar where the autogiro was housed. "Oh, you dear Ladybug!" whispered Linda, not wanting anyone to think she was silly, but so overcome with joy that she had to say something. No one but a pilot could understand the genuine affection which she felt for her autogiro. "I'll be over to fly you tomorrow," she added, under her breath. Then, turning to the man who had conducted her across the field, she asked him whether he could as easily take her to the waiting taxi-cab. They were off at last, waving and smiling to the enthusiastic crowd. "Be sure to stay in Jacksonville till Saturday," the people begged them. "We're going to celebrate for you then!" The girls nodded, and the taxi driver sped away with orders to go straight to the City Hall. Captain Magee, who had received a call from the airport, was ready and waiting for them. Ted carried the shabby, worn bag into his office, and Linda put it into the Captain's hands herself. "The bank's money," she explained. "And the two revolvers. We never had to use them at all." "But we'd have died without them," added Dot. "Of fright--if nothing else." In vain Captain Magee tried to tell the girls how wonderfully brave he thought they had been, but he was so overcome by feeling that he groped for words and stammered--ending by pressing both Linda's and Dot's hands in silence. "Two young girls like you--" he finally managed to say--"succeeding where the police and everybody else failed! Capturing a hundred thousand dollars by a clever trick----" "Is there really that much?" inquired Dot. "Of course we never counted it." The officer smiled at their unconcern. In spite of all their ability, they still seemed like children to him. "By the way, Miss Carlton," he said, "I had a wire from your aunt this afternoon. She will arrive in Jacksonville Saturday morning--accompanied by Mrs. Crowley." This final piece of good news was just what the girls needed to complete their perfect day. Their eyes lighted up with happiness, and they squeezed each other's hands in joy. "And your fathers ought to be back tomorrow. I'll send them straight to the hotel," he added. "So don't go away." "Wild horses couldn't drag us!" returned Linda. "We're just dying to see them.... Now, good-by, Captain Magee.... We must go and get some dinner." So, back in the hotel in Jacksonville, Dot Crowley and Linda Carlton spent their first enjoyable evening for a week--celebrating their safe return with their dear friends, the Mackays. CHAPTER XX _Conclusion_ The girls' first visitor the following day was not, as they had hoped, the party from the yacht, but a woman. "Who can it be?" demanded Dot, for the clerk at the desk had not sent up a name with the message. "A reporter, probably," yawned Linda. "They'll be hot on our trail now, Dot. That was one good thing about the island--we didn't have to read newspapers or give interviews." "You're not wishing you were back again?" "Never!" affirmed Linda, surveying the breakfast tray which she and Dot had been luxuriously enjoying. "I don't care for cold tea and crackers as a steady diet." "But what shall we do about this visitor?" persisted her companion. "The clerk's still waiting for our reply." "Oh, tell him to send her up, I suppose. After all, the poor girls have to earn a living." As Dot gave the message over the telephone, Linda surveyed the room with a frown of distaste. "It's not so neat, Dot--to receive a caller," she remarked. "Maybe we ought to have gone downstairs." "Think I better try to call him back?" "No, I guess it's too late now--the girl's probably on the elevator by this time. Anyhow, it really doesn't matter. Newspaper women are usually awfully good sports." To their amazement and chagrin, it was not a reporter to whom, a moment later, Dot opened the door. A beautifully dressed woman stood before them, smiling nervously. It was Mrs. Carter--Jackson Carter's mother! "How do you do, Mrs. Carter!" exclaimed Dot. "Do come in--if you can pardon the appearance of this room." The older woman seemed scarcely to notice the unmade beds or the open trunks. She nodded to Linda as she entered, but she appeared like a person with something serious on her mind. "How did you know where to find us?" inquired Dot, after she had cleared a chair for their visitor. "It's in all the papers," the latter replied. "Haven't you read about yourselves? Why, everybody in town thinks you two girls are simply marvelous! Rescuing that money was a miracle in itself--an act of courage that Jacksonville will always be grateful to you for." "It's awfully nice of you to say so," murmured Dot, for Linda remained silent. Somehow the latter could never feel at home with this woman. "Our city is planning a parade and celebration in your honor," she continued. "And the Daughters of the Confederacy would like to invite you to a dinner and reception afterwards. That is one of the reasons why I came to see you--to extend the invitation in person." "It's extremely kind of you," assented Dot. "We'll be delighted to accept, won't we, Linda?" "Why, yes--of course--only--" Linda paused, hoping that she was not appearing rude. "Except what, my dear!" asked Mrs. Carter. "Well, it's marvelous of you to do it for us, but you see our fathers are coming--and Dot's mother--and my Aunt Emily----" "But they are included, of course! There will be both men and women at the banquet, and my brother-in-law, the president of the bank that was robbed, hopes to present you girls with the reward." "Oh, it's going to be great fun, Linda!" exclaimed Dot, excitedly. "We've just got to be there!" "Yes, it will be charming," agreed the other girl. "We'll be delighted to come--if we may bring our friends." There seemed nothing more to say, yet Mrs. Carter made no move towards going. To fill an awkward pause, Dot inquired how Jackson was. "Jackson has been away since the first of July," replied the older woman. "I haven't heard anything from him, and I am quite anxious, though he warned me he couldn't write. He and his chum, Hal Perry, went into the Okefenokee Swamp to search for you girls." "The Okefenokee Swamp!" repeated Linda. It seemed ages since she had been lost in that desolate expanse. "Yes. And I wondered, Miss Carlton, whether you would be willing to fly up to the northern end, up towards Camp Cordelia, and look for them. Oh, I don't mean go into the swamp again--that would be too dreadful--but just fly around it." "Yes, of course," agreed Linda, not knowing what else to say. "If you will let me wait until my Daddy comes, so I can take him with me." "Naturally!" Mrs. Carter rose at last, but she still appeared to be embarrassed. "There is something else I want to say to you, Miss Carlton. An apology, this time. I know now that you are the same girl my son rescued in the swamp and brought home to our house. The girl to whom I was so rude.... I--I want to beg your pardon." It was a great deal from a woman of Mrs. Carter's dignity and importance, and Linda was deeply touched. "This is very sweet of you, Mrs. Carter," she said. "And of course I understand how you felt at the time. I'm only too glad to forget all about it.... And," she added, holding out her hand, "I'll go to your son's rescue, as he has twice gone to mine--as soon as my Daddy comes." Still the visitor hesitated, even after she had shaken hands with both the girls, and had reached the doorway. "Would you girls consider bringing your families out to our home, to spend the weekend with us?" she asked, more as one seeking than as one bestowing a favor. Dot did not answer this time; she looked inquiringly at Linda. "It would be lovely," replied the latter, with genuine enthusiasm. "But I am afraid there are too many of us. You see there are two friends with us now--Mr. and Mrs. Mackay, who picked us up in Havana--and there are two more with our fathers on the yacht. With my aunt and Dot's mother, it will make ten in all. And that is too big a crowd for any place but a hotel!" "Not at all!" protested Mrs. Carter. "I should love it. We have plenty of room, and plenty of servants--and we enjoy house-parties. How I shall look forward to seeing your mother, Dorothy!... You will come, won't you, girls--as soon as the whole party is together?" With such a pressing invitation as this, they could not do otherwise than graciously accept, and, satisfied at last, Mrs. Carter bade them good-by. There was no opportunity to discuss this unexpected visit, for no sooner had this caller departed than others began to arrive. Louise dashed into the room on her return from breakfasting with Ted in the dining-room, and before Dot and Linda could repeat the invitation to her, news came that the yachting party had arrived. The reunion of the two girls with their fathers was touching to see. For some minutes they clung to one another in the lobby of the hotel, regardless of the strangers about. Ralph Clavering and Jim Valier stood in the background, unnoticed. About three o'clock that afternoon Linda suddenly remembered her promise to Mrs. Carter in regard to flying over the Okefenokee Swamp in search of Jackson, and she suggested to her father that they go to the airport immediately. Mr. Carlton shook his head decidedly. "No, daughter," he said. "You will never have my consent again to fly within fifty miles of that dismal swamp!" "But we must be within fifty miles of it now," returned Linda. "Shall we leave Jacksonville?" "Now, Linda! You know what I mean." "But how shall I tell Mrs. Carter? I promised, you know." "You can leave that to me," he replied. "I'll explain." But it was not necessary to do this, for the woman telephoned herself almost immediately to say that the boys had arrived by automobile half an hour ago. She concluded by reminding Linda that she was expecting the whole party the following day for luncheon. Saturday dawned clear and bright, and the parade was scheduled for the early morning, before the sun's rays became blistering. Linda and Dot occupied seats of honor on the canopied grandstand, beside the Mayor, and they bowed and smiled to everyone that passed by. Miss Carlton and Mrs. Crowley arrived just in time to witness the demonstration, in honor of their two brave girls. Transcriber's notes: - Table of contents inserted at beginning of book. 
37954	----	[Frontispiece: map of Sable Island] MAID OF THE MIST BY JOHN OXENHAM HODDER AND STOUGHTON PUBLISHERS LONDON _Printed in 1917_ TO MY FRIEND FREDERICK CÆSAR de SUMICHRAST Professor Emeritus of French Literature at Harvard University in HIGHEST ESTEEM and MOST AFFECTIONATE REGARD. CONTENTS BOOK I For a Woman's Sake BOOK II No Man's Land BOOK III Bone of Contention BOOK IV Love in a Mist BOOK V Garden of Eden BOOK I FOR A WOMAN'S SAKE I At sight of where the chase was leading, most of the riders reined in their panting horses and sat watching those in front with anxious faces. The Old Roman Road--so called, though with possibly somewhat doubtful claim to antiquity so remote--had an evil reputation. At best of times it was dangerous. More than one of them had sacrificed a horse to it at some time or other. Some had come near to sacrificing more. After several hours in the field, wound up by a fast five-and-twenty minutes' run which had led round Endsley Wood and the coppices almost to Wynn Hall, and then back through Dursel Bottom, and up Whin Hill, it was too much to ask of any horse. Besides, it meant the end of the run in any case, for that old fox, if he failed to shake them off elsewhere, always made for the Roman Road and always managed it there. The hedge on this side was as thick and matted a quickset as ever grew. The sunk road had no doubt originally been a covered way from the old fort up above. It was indeed more of a trench than a road, with a sheer descent from the quickset of ten good feet, a width of about as much, and a grass slope on the other side at a somewhat lower level. The leap was therefore by no means impossible if your horse could rise to the hedge and cover the distance and the extra bit for a footing. But what was the good? The bottom of the old road was always a muddy dribble from the fields above, and up and down it went several flocks of sheep whenever they changed pasture. And the wily old fox knew the effect of these things on scent as well as any hound or huntsman. So, when it was his day, and he had had enough of them, he made for the Old Roman Road, and then went home with a curl in his lip and a laugh in his eye. But there were riders among them to whom a ride was nothing without a risk in it, and the Roman Road a standing test and temptation. It was two such that the rest who had got that length stood watching, some with tightened faces, none without anxiety. For a leap that is good sport when one's horse is fresh may mean disaster at the end of the run. Even old Job, the huntsman, and young Job, his son, who acted as whipper-in, watched with pinched faces and panted oaths between their teeth. Pasley Carew, the Master, lifted his foam-flecked black to the hedge, and the dull crash of his fall came up to them, horribly clear on the still autumn air. Wulfrey Dale, the Doctor, on his big bay, cleared hedge and road with feet to spare, flung himself off as soon as he could pull up, and ran back to help. It was as bad as it could be. Carew lay in the road, smothered in mud and obviously damaged. His horse had just rolled off him, and the Doctor saw at a glance that one of its forelegs was broken. It was kicking out wildly with its heels, flailing clods out of the steep bank and floundering in vain attempts to rise. Carew, on one elbow, was cursing it with every oath he could lay tongue to, and with the pointed bone handle of his crop in the other hand was hammering the poor brute's head to pulp. "Stop it, Carew!" shouted Wulfrey, sickened at the sight, as he jumped down the bank. "Damn it, man, it wasn't her fault!" "---- her! She's broken my back." "You shouldn't have tried it. I told you you were too heavy for her. Stop it, I say!" and he wrenched the crop, all dripping with hair and blood, out of the other's hand, and with difficulty bit off the hot words that surged in his throat. For the man was broken and hardly responsible. It was a hard age and given to forceful language. But never in any age are there lacking some to whom brutality to the dumb beast appeals as keenly as ill-treatment of their fellows. Wulfrey Dale was of these, and a great lover of horses besides, and Carew's maltreatment of his broken beast cut him to the quick. With another quick look at the useless leg, and a bitter word which he could not keep in, at the horror of the mauled head, he drew from his pocket a long knife, which had seen service on many a field, opened it, pressed down the blinded tumbling head with one hand, and with the other deftly inserted the blade at the base of the skull behind the ears and drove it home with all his force, severing the spinal cord. "Poor old girl!" he said, as, with a quick sigh of relief, the great black body lay still. Then he turned to Carew and knelt down to examine into his injuries. "No need," said the broken man. "Curse it all! Get a gate. My back's gone. I've no legs,"--and the others, having found their roundabout ways, came flocking up, while the dogs still nosed eagerly up and down the road but got no satisfaction. Young Job plied his whip and his tongue and carried them away. His father looked at Carew, then at the Doctor, who nodded, and the old man turned and hurried away to get what long experience of such matters told him was needed. "Take a pull at this, Carew," said the Doctor, handing him a flask. And as he drank deeply, as though to deaden the pain or the thought of it, Dale beckoned to one of the group which stood a little aloof lest the broken man should take their anxiety for morbid curiosity. "Barclay, will you ride on and break it to Mrs. Carew?" "Is it bad?" "Yes, his back's broken." "Good God!" and he stumbled off to his horse, and with a word to the rest, mounted and rode away. Old Job came back in a minute or two with a hurdle he had rooted up from the sheep-fold, and they lifted the Master on to it and carried him slowly and heavily home. II Carew was on the front door steps as they came up the drive. The Doctor went on in advance to speak to her. "Dead?" she jerked breathlessly, as he strode up. "Not dead. Badly broken. He may live," and her tightened lips pinched a trifle tighter. She was a slight, extremely pretty woman of three and twenty, white-faced at the moment with the sudden shock; in her blue eyes a curious startled look--anxiety?--expectancy? Even Dale, who had known her all his life, could not have said. All he knew was that it was not quite the look one found in some wives' faces in similar circumstances, and this was not the first he had seen. She looked scarcely more than a girl, though she had been married five years. That was due largely to the slim grace of her figure. Her face was thinner than he had known it, less eloquent of her feelings, somewhat tense and repressed, and her eyes seemed larger; and all that, he knew, was due to the fact that it was to Pasley Carew to whom she had been married for five years, for he had seen these changes come upon her gradually. They had played together as boy and girl, when he was just little Wulf Dale, the Doctor's son, and she Elinor Baynard, living with her mother at Glynne. As youth and maiden they had flirted and even sweet-hearted for a time. But Mrs Baynard of Glynne had no intention of letting her pretty girl throw herself away on a mere country doctor's son, however highly she might esteem both father and son personally. Wulf had at that time still to prove himself, and even if he did so, and eventually succeeded his father in the practice, it meant no more than a good living at the cost of constant hard work. Elinor, she was sure, had been gifted by Nature with that face and figure for some better portion in life than that of a country doctor's wife, and so she saw to it that the feelings of the young people should not get too deeply entangled before it was too late. As for Elinor herself she was very fond of Wulf. She liked him indeed almost well enough to sacrifice everything for him. But not quite. If he had only been in the position and possessions of Pasley Carew of the Hall, now, she would have married him without a moment's hesitation, and she would undoubtedly have had much greater chance of happiness than was vouchsafed her. If, indeed, Wulf had ardently pushed his suit he might possibly have prevailed on her to marry him in spite of her mother, though whether Wulf without the possessions would have satisfied her eventually may be doubted. But Wulf, two years older than herself, had no intention of marrying at twenty, even if his father would have heard of it. He was a gay, good-looking fellow, with the cheerfullest of humours, and on the best of terms with every man, woman and child, over all the country-side. Moreover he was an excellent shot, a fearless rider, good company at table, an acceptable and much-sought-after guest,--whenever circumstances and cases permitted of temporary release from duties with which no social engagements were ever allowed to interfere. Marrying and settling down were for the years to come. As his father's assistant he had proved his capabilities. And when the old man died, Wulf stepped up into the vacant saddle and filled it with perfect acceptation to all concerned. His ready sympathy, and his particular interest in and devotion to everyone who claimed his services, endeared him to his patients. They vowed that the sight of him did them as much good as his medicines, but he made them take the medicines all the same. He had also lately been appointed Deputy-Coroner for the district, in order, in case of need, to relieve Dr Tamplin--old Tom Tamplin who lived at Aldersley, ten miles away. So that matters were prospering with him all round. All men spoke well of him, and the women still better. A practitioner from the outside, with a London degree and much assurance, had indeed hung out his large new brass plate in the village about a year before, and lived on there in hope which showed no sign of fulfilment. For everyone knew and liked Wulf Dale, and Dr Newman, M.B., clever though he might be and full worthy of his London degree, was still an outsider and an unknown quantity, and the way of the medical outsider in a country district is apt to be as hard as the way of the transgressor. So Elinor Baynard, for the sake of her bodily comfort and her own and her mother's worldly ambitions, married Pasley Carew and became Mistress of Croome, and learned all too soon that it is possible to pay too high a price even for bodily comfort and the realisation of worldly ambition. Worldly ambition may, indeed, be made to appear successfully attained, to the outside world; but bodily comfort, being dependent more or less on peace of mind, is not to be secured when heart and mind are sorely exercised and bruised. Jealous Jade Rumour even went the length of whispering that it was not heart and mind alone that had on occasion suffered bruising in this case. For Carew was notoriously quick-tempered and easily upset--and notoriously many other things also. His grooms and boys knew the feel of his hunting-crop better than his reasons for using it at times--though doubtless occasion was not lacking. As to his language!--it was said that the very horses in his stables lashed out when he began, as though they believed that, by much kicking, curses might be pulverised in mid-air and rendered innocuous. Now a wife cannot--Elinor at all events could not--kick even to that extent under the application of sulphur or riding-whip. Nor can she legally, except in the extremest case, throw up her situation, as the stable-boys could, but did not. For the pay in both cases was good, and for the sake of it the one and the other put up with the discomforts appertaining to their positions. Pasley Carew's redeeming characteristics were a large estate and rent-roll, sporting instincts, and extreme openhandedness in everything that ministered to his own pleasures. He ran the hounds and was a fine rider, though over-hard on his horses, with whom he was never on terms of intimate friendship. He esteemed them solely for their carrying capacities. He preserved, was a good shot, and free with his invitations to the less-happily situated. He was a jovial host and a hard drinker as was the fashion. He enjoyed seeing his friends at his table and under it. He was not a hard landlord, and this, and his generosity in the matter of compensation for hunt-damage, secured him the good-will of the country-side and palliated all else. Morals were slack in those days, and no one would have thought for a moment of affronting Carew by calling him a moral man. On the whole, Elinor paid a somewhat high price for the bodily comfort from which--according to the Jealous Jade--sulphurous language and an occasional blow were not lacking, and for the satisfaction of a worldly ambition which, if the gradual shadowing of her pretty face was anything to go by, had not brought her any great peace of mind. III Wulfrey Dale was a very general favourite. With men and women alike, quite irrespective of their station in life, his manner was irresistibly frank and charming. With the women it might be said to be almost unfortunately so. He was so absolutely and unaffectedly sympathetic, so exclusively and devotedly interested in every woman he met, that it is hardly matter for wonder that in many quarters impressionable hearts beat high at his coming, and thought tenderly and hopefully of him when he had gone. That, too, in spite of the fact that their owners knew perfectly well that it was simply Wulf's way, as it had been his father's before him, and that neither of them could change his nature any more than he could change his skin or the colour of his eyes. He took a deep and genuine human interest in every man, woman and child with whom he came into contact, and showed it. With men and children it made for good-fellowship and extraordinary confidence. The older folk all trusted young Wulfrey as they had all their lives trusted the old Doctor. The children would talk to him as between man and man, and with an artlessness and candour which as a rule obtained only among themselves. With the women it led in some cases to little affections of the heart--flutterings and burnings and barely-self-confessed disappointments, for which their owners, if honest in their searchings after truth, had to acknowledge that the blame lay entirely with themselves. It was a time of hard drinking, hard riding, and quite superfluously strong language, but none the less, among the women-folk, of a sentiment which in these days of wider outlook and opportunity we should denominate as sickly. The blame was not all theirs. So far Wulf had shown exceptional interest or favour in no direction, that is to say in all, and so none could claim to say with any certainty in which way the wind blew, or even if it blew at all. Not a few held that Elinor Baynard's marriage with Pasley Carew had so wounded his affections that it was probable he would never marry, unless----. And therein lay strictly private grounds for hope in many a heart. For a heart-broken man, however, Wulfrey managed to maintain an extremely cheerful face, and his manner to Elinor, whenever they met, was just the same as to other women. If it had in fact been somewhat different it would not have been very surprising. For it needed no professional acumen to recognise that her marriage with Pasley had not fulfilled her expectations. She was, indeed, Mrs Carew of Croome, mistress of the Hall and all such amenities--and otherwise--and luxuries of living as appertained to so exalted a position, winner of the prize so many had coveted, and--wife of Pasley Carew. And sometimes it is possible she wished she were none of these things because of the last. For Carew made no pretence of perfection, or even of modest impeccability, never had done so since the day he was born, never would till the day he must die, would have scorned the very idea. Was he not a man,--rich and hot-blooded, able and accustomed all his life to have his own way in all things, easy enough to get on with when he got it, otherwise when thwarted? And Wulfrey Dale had seen the freshness of the maiden-bloom fade out of Elinor's pretty face, in these five years of her attainment, had seen it stiffen in self-repression, and even harden somewhat. Her eyes had seemed to grow larger, and there were sometimes dark shadows under them. Without doubt she had not found any too large measure of the comfort and happiness she had looked for. At times, mind acting on body, her health was not of the best, and then she sent for Wulfrey to minister to her bodily necessities, and found that he could do it best by allowing her to relieve her mind of some of its burdens. They had always been on such friendly terms that she could, and did, talk to him as to no other. Her mother was worse than useless as a burden-sharer. Her only counsel was not to be too thin-skinned, and above all to present a placid face to the world. Which, as medicine to a sorely-tried soul, was easier to give than to take, and proved quite ineffective. Wulfrey, on the other hand, gave her tonics, and, to the fullest limits of his duty to Carew, his deepest sympathy in her troubles and vexations, and his friendly advice towards encouragement and hope of better times, when Pasley's hot blood would begin to cool and he would settle down to less objectionable courses. At times, under stress and suffering from some more than usually immoderate outbreak on her husband's part, she would let herself go in a way that pained and surprised him, both as friend and doctor. He doubted if she always told him all, even at such times. More than once she had seemed on the point of still wilder outbreak, and it was all he could do to soothe her and bring her back to a more reasonable frame of mind. On one occasion she openly threatened to take her life, since it was no longer worth living, and it took Wulfrey a good hour to wring from her a solemn promise not to do so without first consulting him. So over-wrought and alternately excited and depressed was she that there were times when, in spite of her promise, he would not have been greatly surprised by a sudden summons to the Hall with the news that its mistress had made a summary end of her troubles. His mind was sorely exercised on her account, but it was only the effects that came within his province. The root of the trouble was beyond his tackling. He did, indeed, after much debate within himself, bring himself to the point of discussing the matter, in strictest confidence, with the parson, one night. But he, jovial sportsman and recipient of many bounties from Pasley, including the privilege of subsiding under his table whenever invitation offered, genially but flatly refused to interfere between man and wife. "No good ever comes of it, Doctor. You know that as well as any man. It's only the intruder suffers. They both turn and rend him like boars of the wood and wild beasts of the field. Take my advice and leave 'em alone. These things always straighten themselves out in time--one way or the other. Deuce take the women! They're not blind kittens when they marry. They've got to take the rough with the smooth. Another glass of punch before you go!"--was the irreverent Reverend's final word on the matter. And Wulfrey could do no more in that direction. IV It was under such circumstances that they carried Pasley Carew home to Croome on the hurdle; under such circumstances that Elinor met them on the steps and asked Wulfrey, with that curious, startled look in her eyes which might be anxiety and might be expectancy.-- "Dead?" And Wulfrey, subconsciously wondering whether she really had got the length of hoping for her husband's death, and subconsciously feeling that if it were so it was not much to be wondered at, though undoubtedly greatly to be deplored, had answered her, somewhat sternly, "Not dead. Badly broken. He may live,"--for the shock of the whole matter, and the extreme discomfort of having had to sever that poor Blackbird's spinal cord, were still heavy on him. Elinor shot one sharp, searching glance at his face, and turned and went on before the bearers to show them the way. The staircase at Croome was a somewhat notable one, wide enough to accommodate hurdle and bearers with room to spare, so they carried the Master right up to his own bedroom and as gently as possible transferred him to his bed. The explosive fury of his outbreak against Fate and Blackbird, in the first shock of his fall, had been simply a case of vehement passion disregarding, and momentarily overcoming, the frailty of the flesh. Exhaustion and collapse followed, and as they carried him home he lay still and barely conscious. He came to himself again as they placed him on the bed, and after lying for a moment, as though recalling what had happened, murmured in a bitter whisper, "Damnation! Damnation! Damnation!" and his eyes screwed up tightly, and his face warped and pinched in agony of mind or body, or both. As Wulfrey bent over him, and with gentle hands assured himself of the damage, Carew looked up at him out of the depths; horror, desperation, furious revolt, hopelessness, all mingled in the wild gleam that detected and scorched the pity in Wulfrey's own eyes, and gave him warning of dangers to come. "---- it all! It's no good, Dale," he growled hoarsely. "I'm done. ---- that horse! Give me something that'll end it quick!" "Don't talk that way, man! You know I can't do that. We'll pull you through." "To lie like a log for the rest of my life! I won't, I tell you. ---- it, man, can't you understand I'd liefer go at once?" "I'll bring you up a draught and you'll get some rest," said Dale soothingly. "Rest! Rest! A dose of poison is all I want, ---- you! Don't look at me like that, ---- _you_!" to his wife, who stood watching with her hands tightly clasped as though to hold in her emotions. She walked away to the window and stood looking out. "Carew, you--must--be--quiet. You're doing yourself harm," said the Doctor authoritatively. "Man, I'm in hell. Poison me, and make an end!" "Not till tomorrow, anyway. I'll run down and get that draught. We'll see about the other in the morning." Mrs Carew turned as he left the room, and followed him out, and the sick man sank back with a groan and a curse. "Will he die?" she asked quickly, as she closed the door behind them. "Not necessarily. But if he lives he'll be crippled for life." "He would sooner die than live like that." "We can't help that. It's my business to keep him alive. I'll run down and mix him a draught which may give him some rest. You'll need assistance. He may go off his head. He's a bad patient. I'll send you someone up----" "Not Jane Pinniger then. I won't have her." He knitted his brows at her. "It was Jane I was thinking of. She's an excellent nurse, both brains and brawn, and he may get violent in the night." "I won't have her here," said Elinor obstinately, and he remembered that gossip had, not so very long ago, been busy with the names of Pasley and Jane, as she had at other times occupied herself with Pasley and many another. Undoubtedly Elinor had had much to bear. "All right! If I can find anyone else----" he began. "I won't have Jane Pinniger here,"--and he went off at speed to get the draught and find a substitute for Jane if that were possible. His doubts on that head were justified. He sent his boy up with the draught, and started on the search for a nurse who should combine a modicum of intelligence with the necessary strength of mind and body. But his choice was very limited. Old crones there were, satisfactory enough in their own special line and in a labourer's cottage, but useless for a job such as this. There was nothing for it at last but to go back to the Hall and tell Mrs Carew that it was Jane or nobody. "Nobody then," said she decisively. "I will manage with one of the girls from downstairs, and young Job to help." "Young Job is all very well with the dogs----" "He will do very well for this too. We may not require him, but he can be at hand in case of need," and he had to leave it at that. V Carew suffered much, more in mind even than in body. The thought of lying there like a damned log, as he put it, for the rest of his days filled him with most passionate resentment, and drove him into paroxysms of raging fury. He cursed everything under the sun and everyone who came near him, with a completeness and finality of invective which, if it had taken effect or come home to roost, would have blighted himself and all his surroundings off the face of the earth. Even his wife, and the maid who took turns with her to sit within call, accustomed as they were to his outbreaks, quailed before the storm. Young Job alone suffered it without turning a hair, and paid no more heed to it all, even when directed against himself, than he would to the yelping of his dogs. Wulfrey Dale came in for his share, chiefly by reason of his quiet inattention to the sufferer's impossible demands for extinction. But he found his visits to the sick-room trying even to his seasoned nerves. What it must all mean to the tortured wife he hardly dared to imagine. Once when he was there, Carew hurled a tumbler at her which missed her head by a hair's-breadth. Dale got her out of the room, and turned and gave his patient a sound verbal drubbing, and Carew cursed him high and low till his breath gave out. "Has he done that before?" the Doctor asked the white-faced wife, when he had followed her downstairs. "Oh, yes. But I'm generally on the look-out. I was off my guard because you were there. Oh, I wish he would die and leave us in peace." "He'll kill himself if he goes on like this." "He'll kill some of us first. He's wanting to die. It would be the best thing for him--and for us. Can't you let him die?" and a tiny spark shot through the shadowy suffering of her eyes as she glanced up at him. "You know I can't. Don't talk like that!" he said brusquely, and then, to atone for the brusqueness, "I am sorely distressed for you, but there is nothing to be done but bear it as bravely as you can. What about your mother? Couldn't you----" "It would only make him worse still, if that is possible. Pasley detests her. Oh, I wish I were dead myself. I cannot bear it," and she broke into hysterical weeping, and swayed blindly, and would have fallen if he had not caught her. A woman's grief and tears always drew the whole of Wulf's sympathy. And he and she had been almost as brother and sister all their lives--till she married Carew. "Don't, Elinor! Don't!" he said soothingly, as with her shaking head against his breast she sobbed as though her heart were broken. Mollie, the maid, came hastily in, without so much as a knock, her red face mottled with white fear. "He's going on that awful, Ma'am, I vow I daresn't stop in there alone with him. It's as much as one's life's worth when he's in his tantrums." "Get your mistress a glass of wine, Mollie, and then find young Job and send him up. I'll go up and wait with Mr Carew till he comes." He led Mrs Carew to the couch and made her lie down there, and explained matters to the girl by asking her, "Does he throw things at you too?" "La, yes, Doctor, at all of us, if we don't keep 'em out of his reach. He do boil up so at nothing at all," and she went off in search of young Job, who was passing a peaceful holiday hour in the company of thirty couple of yelping hounds. VI Dale was confronted with the problem with which every medical man comes face to face during his career. Here was a man who, both for his own sake and still more for the sake of those about him, would be very much better dead than living; who wanted to die, and, as he believed, make an end; who begged constantly for the relief of death;--and yet, against his own equally strong feeling of what would be best for all concerned, his doctor must do his very utmost to keep his patient alive and all about him in torment. Wulfrey wished, as devoutly as the more immediate sufferers, that he would die. He wished it more ardently each time he saw Mrs Carew, and wholly and entirely on her account. Her white face, which grew more deathly white each day, and her woful eyes, which grew ever more despairing in their shadowy rings, were sure indexes of what she was passing through. Dale wondered how much longer she would be able to stand it. He gave her tonics, and his most helpful sympathy and encouragement. And at the same time, by the irony of circumstance and the claims of his profession, he must do everything in his power to perpetuate the burden under which she was breaking. But the whole matter came to a sudden and unlooked for end, on the seventh day after the accident. Wulfrey was hastening up to the Hall to clear this, the unpleasantest item, out of his day's work, when he met young Job coming down the drive with a straw in his mouth and three couples of young hounds at his heels. "Wur comen fur you, Doctor," said young Job. "He's dead." "Dead?" jerked the Doctor in very great surprise, for his patient had been more venomously alive than ever the night before. "Ay--dead. An' a good thing too, say I, and so too says everyone that's heard it." "But what took him, Job? He was going on all right last night." "'Twere the Devil I expecs, Doctor, if you ask me straight. He were getten too strampageous to live. Th' air were so full o' fire and brimstone with his curses, it weren't safe. 'Twere like bein' under a tree wi' th' leeghtnin' playin' all round." "And Mrs Carew? ... Who was with him when he died? Tell me all you know about it," as they hurried along. "I come up at ten o'clock as ushal, an' the missus met me at door wi' her finger to her lips. 'He's sleeping, Job,' she says, an' glad I was to hear it. 'I'll go an' lie down, Job, for I'm very tired,' she says, and she looked it, poor thing. 'Knock on my door if you need me, Job,' she says, and she went away. He were lying quiet and all tucked up, an' I sat down an' waited for him to wake up and start again. But he never woke, and when the missus came in this morning she went and looked at him, and she says, 'Why, Job, I do believe he's dead,' and I went and looked at him, and, God's truth, he looked as if he might be. But I couldn't be sure, not liking to touch him, and I says, 'No such luck, ma'am, _I_'m afraid,'--polite like, for we all knows the time she's had wi' him, and she says, 'Go and fetch Dr Dale.' So I just loosed these three couple o' young uns--they're all achin' for a run,--an' I'm wondering who'll work th' pack now he's gone, if so be as he's really gone, which I'm none too sure of. Th' Hunt were best thing he ever did, but he were terrible hard on his horses." Dale hurried into the house and up the stair, and into the sick-room, the windows of which were opened to their widest, as though to cleanse the room of the fire and brimstone which had seemed over-strong even to such a pachyderm as young Job. Carew lay there on the bed, at rest at last, as far as this world was concerned, startlingly quiet after the storm-furies of the last seven days and nights. Dale was still standing looking down at him, full of that ever-recurring wonder at the quiet dignity which Death sometimes imparts even to those whose lives have not been dignified; full too of anxious desire to learn how it had come about. The tightly-clenched hands and livid rigidity of the body suggested a startling possibility. He was bending down to the dead man to investigate more closely when a sound behind him caused him to look round, and he found Mrs Carew standing there. Her face was whiter, her eyes heavier and more shadowy, than he had ever seen them. "He is dead," she said quietly. "One can only look upon it as a merciful release--for all of you. How was it?" "He wanted to die," she began, in the dull level tone of a child repeating an obnoxious lesson. Then the self-repression she had prescribed for herself gave way somewhat. Her hands gripped one another fiercely and she hurried on with a touch of rising hysteria, but still speaking in little more than a whisper. "You know how he wanted to die. He was asking you all the time to give him something to end it. But you could not. I know--I quite understand--being a doctor, of course you could not. But there was something he kept--for the rats, you know, in the stables. And he told me where it was and told me to get some. So I got it and gave it him in his sleeping-draught, and----" "Good God! Elinor!..." he gasped. "... You never did that!" "Yes, I did. Why not? He wished it. We all wished it. It is much better so," and she pointed at the dead man on the bed. "It is better for him ... and for all of us. I only did what he told me." He stood staring at her in blankest amazement, and found himself unconsciously searching her face and eyes for signs of aberration. Her face was wan-white still, but had lost the broken, beaten look it had worn of late. The shadow-ringed eyes were perfectly steady and had in them a curious wistful look, like that of a child expecting and deprecating a scolding. "Do you know what it means?" he asked at last, in a hoarse whisper. "It means release for us all," she said quickly, and then more quickly still, "Oh, Wulfrey, I couldn't help thinking--hoping that--sometime--not for a long time, of course,--but sometime--when we have forgotten all this--you might--you and I might----" "Stop!" he said sternly. "Were you thinking that when you did this?" and he pointed to the bed. "Not then--at least--no, I think not. I just did what he told me to do. But when I saw he was really dead----" He stopped her again with a gesture, and broke out with brusque vehemence, "Is it possible you don't understand what you have done? Do you know what the law will call it?"---- "The law? No one needs to know anything about it but you and me----" "The law will want to know how this man died----" "But you can tell them all that is necessary. It was Blackbird falling at the old road that killed him. If he hadn't broken his back he wouldn't have been lying here, and if he hadn't----" "He might have lived for twenty years," he said, breaking her off short again with an abrupt gesture. "The law requires of me the exact truth. Do you understand you are asking me to swear to a lie? I would not do it to save my own life." "He took it himself----" "He could not get it himself, and the law will hold you responsible for supplying it." "Oh--Wulfrey! ... You won't let them hang me?"--and he saw that at last she understood clearly enough the peril in which she stood if the whole truth of the matter became known. Hang her they most certainly would if the facts got out, or coop her for life in a mad-house, which would be infinitely worse than hanging. And the thought of either dreadful ending to her spoiled life was very terrible to him. She stood before him, little more than a girl still, woful, wistful, with terror now in her white face and shadowy eyes, and he remembered their bygone days together. "Go back to your room, and rest, if you can. And say nothing of all this to anyone. You understand?--not a word to anyone. I must think what can be done," he said, and she turned and went without a word. VII Wulfrey Dale thought hard and deep. He must save her if he could. How? For a moment--inevitably--he weighed in his mind the question of his own honour versus this woman's life. With a few strokes of the pen he could probably bury the whole matter safely out of sight along with Carew's dead body. But those few strokes of the pen, certifying that this man died as the result of his accident, were as impossible to him as would have been the administration of the poisoned draught itself. Moreover--though that weighed nothing with him compared with the other--there was in them always the possibility of disaster, should rumour or tittle-tattle cast the shadow of doubt upon his statement; and an idle word from Mollie or young Job might easily do that. The neighbours also had made constant enquiry after Pasley since his accident, and had been given to understand that he was progressing as well as could be expected. His sudden death might well cause comment. Indeed, it would be strange if it did not. That might lead to investigation, and that must inevitably disclose the fact that he died from strychnine poisoning. The Dales had never been wealthy, but their standards had been high, and Wulfrey had never done anything to lower them. He could not sell his honour even for this woman's life. He pitied her profoundly. He understood her better probably than any other. He knew how terribly she had suffered, and could comprehend, quite clearly, just how she had fallen into this horrible pit. But cast his honour to the dogs for her, he could not. Then how? And, pondering heavily all possibilities, he saw the only feasible way out. It meant almost certain ruin to himself and his prospects, but, if it came, it would be clean ruin and he would feel no smirch. It involved a false statement of fact, it is true, but of a very different cast and calibre from the other, and one that he himself felt to be no stain upon his honour. As a matter of pure ethics a lie is a lie, and of course indefensible. I simply tell you what this man did and felt himself untarnished in the doing. And the very first thing he did was to go straight home to the little dispensary which opened off his consulting-room, and alter the positions of some of the bottles on the shelves; and from one of them he withdrew a measured dose which he tossed out of the window into the garden. Then he sat down at his desk and quietly wrote out a certificate of the death of Pasley Carew, of Croome Hall, Gentleman, through the administration of a dose of strychnine in mistake for distilled water, in a sleeping-draught compounded by Dr Wulfrey Dale. And he thought, as he wrote the word, of the awful pandemonium Pasley Carew, Gentleman, had created in his own household these last seven days. He enclosed this in a covering letter to Dr Tamplin, the coroner, in which he explained more fully how the mistake had occurred. The bottles containing the strychnine and the distilled water stood side by side on his shelf. He had come in tired from a long country round. Had remembered the draught to be sent up to the Hall. As to the rest, he could not tell how he came to make such a mistake. But there it was, and he only was to blame. He could only express his profound regret and accept the consequences. Then, having completed his documents, instead of galloping off to see his waiting patients, he sat down before the fire and let his thoughts play gloomily over the whole matter. His man was off delivering medicines, and would not be back till midday. Time enough if Tamplin got his letter during the afternoon. As to his own patients, he had run rapidly over them in his own mind, and saw that there was no one vitally demanding his attention. He could not go his rounds and say nothing, and the thought of carrying the news of his own default was too much for him. As soon as the matter got bruited about, he thought grimly, there would probably be a run on Dr Newman's services, which would greatly astonish and delight that gentleman and would compensate him for all his months of weary waiting. It was a good thing for Elinor, he thought, as he sat staring into the fire, that he was not married. If he had had a wife and children, they must have gone into the scale against her, and she must certainly have been hanged. Quite impossible to bring it in as an accident on her part. That he had seen at a glance. The jury would be composed of neighbours, and in spite of the placid face she had turned to the world, it was well enough known that she and Pasley had not lived happily together. And though the fault of that was not imputed to her, every man's thought would inevitably jump to the worst, and condemn her even before she did it out of her own mouth, which she most certainly would do the moment she opened it to explain matters. No, this was the only possible way. If the cost was heavy, he was more capable of bearing it than she. In any case he could not hand her over to the hangman. That was out of the question. He could pretty well forecast the consequences. His practice would be ruined, for who would trust a doctor capable of so fatal a mistake? He would have to go away and start life afresh elsewhere. It would have to be somewhere where he was quite unknown, or this thing would dog him all his life. Some new country perhaps,--say Canada or the States. Gad, it was a heavy price to pay for a foolish woman's lapse! He would not be penniless, of course. His father had laid by a considerable sum in the course of his long and busy life. If necessary he could live in quiet comfort, without working, for the rest of his days. But it was hard to break away like this from all that had so far constituted his life. A heavy price to pay for mere sentiment--but not too heavy for a woman's life! There was no doubt of his having to go. The question was whether he should go at once, or wait till there was nothing left to wait for. It would be dismal and weary work waiting. But going would feel like bolting, and he had never run from trouble in his life. As a matter of fact he had never until now had any serious trouble to face, but now that it had come he found himself in anything but a running humour. If there had been anything to fight he would have rejoiced in the mêlée and plunged into it with ardour. But here was nothing to be fought. By his own deliberate act he was labelling himself untrustworthy, and no uttermost striving on his part could rehabilitate him. For the essence of healing is faith, and a doctor who has forfeited one's confidence is worse than no doctor at all. VIII In the afternoon he sent off his man on horseback with the letter to Dr Tamplin, and towards evening he came galloping back with this very characteristic reply: "MY DEAR WULFREY, Shocking business and I'm sorely grieved about whole matter. Humanum est errare, but a doctor's not supposed to. Good thing for us we're not always found out. Could you not bring yourself to certify death as result of the accident? I consider it a mistake to admit the possibility of such a thing, so d--d damaging to the profession. And have you considered the matter from your own point of view? Cannot fail to have bad effect. Perhaps give that new fellow just the chance he's been waiting for. ---- him! Think it over again, my boy, from all points, and be wise. I return certificate. Your man will tell you all about my fall. My cob stumbled over a stone last night and broke me a leg and two ribs. I'm too heavy for that kind of thing and he's a ---- fool! But it was very dark and we're neither of us as young as we were. For all our sakes I hope you'll come through this all right. We can't spare you. And it might come to that. Remember what silly sheep folks are. Yours truly, THOMAS TAMPLIN." Just like the dear, easy-going old boy, fall and all, thought Wulfrey, and the advice tendered and the course suggested did not greatly surprise him. But he had to make allowances for the old man's age and easy-goingness, and his lack of detailed knowledge of all the circumstances of the case,--how almost impossible it would be to ascribe Carew's death to the accident, even if he could have brought himself to do so. The old man's own shelving would add greatly to the unpleasantness of the situation, for, as deputy-coroner, he would have to call a jury himself, and submit the matter to their consideration and himself to their verdict. However, there was no way out of that, so he set to work at once and sent out his summonses, calling the inquest for ten o'clock the next morning, at the Hall; and to relieve Elinor as much as possible, he gave orders to the undertaker at Brentham to do all that was necessary, and sent her word that he had done so. Early next morning, before he was up, young Job was knocking on his front door, with half the pack yelping and leaping outside the gate. "Well, Job? What's it now?" he asked, from his bedroom window. "That gal Mollie says you better come up and see th' missus----" "Why? What's wrong with her?" "_I_ d'n know, n' more don't Mollie. _She_ thinks she's had a stroke." "Wait five minutes and I'll go back with you," and in five minutes they were crunching through the lanes, all hard underfoot with frost that lay like snow, and white and gay with hedge-row lacery of spiders' webs in feathery festoons, and, up above, a crimson sun rising slowly through the mist-banks over the bare black trees. "What makes Mollie think your mistress has had a stroke?" asked the Doctor. "What does Mollie know about strokes?" "I d'n know. 'Sims to me she've had a stroke,' was her very words. She've just laid on her bed all day an' all night without speakin' a word, Mollie says,--eatin' noth'n, and drinkin' noth'n, which is onnat'ral; an' sayin' noth'n, which in a woman is onnat'ral too." "She was quite worn out with nursing Mr Carew." "Like enough. He _wur_ a handful an' no mistake. Th' house is a deal quieter wi'out him. But who's goin' to run th' pack?--that's what bothers me." "Don't you worry, Job. Someone will turn up to run the pack all right." "Mebbe, but it depends on who 'tis. Why not yourself now, Doctor?" "That's a great compliment, Job, and I appreciate it. But," with a shake of the head, "I'll have other work to do," and he wondered grimly where that work might lie. Mollie took him straight up to Mrs Carew's room, where she lay just as she had sunk down on the bed when he sent her away the previous morning. "She's nivver spoke nor moved since she dropped down there yes'day," whispered Mollie impressively. "I covered her up, but she took no notice. An' I brought her up her dinner and her supper but she's never ate a bite." "Get me a cup of hot milk with an egg and a glass of sherry beaten up in it, Mollie," he whispered back. "And I'll see if I can induce her to take it. You did quite right to send for me," and Mollie hurried away with a more hopeful face. Elinor lay there with her eyes closed and a rigid, stricken look on her white face, a picture of hopeless despair. But Wulfrey's quick glance had caught the flutter of her heavy lids, and the gleam of terrified enquiry that had shot through them, as they came into the room, and he understood. He bent over her and whispered, "I have made it all right, Elinor. You need have no further fears----" "They will not hang me?" she whispered, and looked up into his face with all the terrors of the night still in her woful eyes. "No one will know anything about it unless you tell them yourself. You will eat something now, and then you had better lie still. Get some sleep if you can or you will make yourself ill. If you fell ill you might say things you should not, you know." She struggled up on to one elbow. "You are quite sure they will not hang me?" she whispered again. "Quite sure, unless you are so foolish as to tell them all about it." "I have felt the rope round my neck all night. Oh, it was terrible in the dark. It was terrible ... terrible----" and she felt about her pretty white neck with her trembling hands. "Forget all about it now. I have made all the necessary arrangements. There will have to be an inquest. It will be held here---" "Here?" she shivered. "At ten o'clock this morning. You are too ill to be present, so you will just lie still. It will not take long. And I have done everything else that had to be done." "It is very good of you," she murmured, with a forlorn shake of the head. She did not ask by what means he had saved her from the consequences of what she had done. Perhaps she dared not. Perhaps she believed he had, after all, forsworn himself for her sake, and refrained from questioning him lest it should only add to his discomfort. Anyway she was satisfied with the fact. She was not going to be hanged. That was enough. Mollie came in with her deftly-compounded cup. "Drink it up," said the Doctor. "I will look in again later on," and he went away to prepare the household for the coming meeting in the big dining-room. IX The sixteen jurymen, whom Wulfrey had summoned in order to make quite sure of a legal panel, came riding up in ones and twos, with faces tuned to the occasion, disguising, as well as they could, the vast curiosity this sudden call had excited in themselves and all their various households. That there was something gravely unusual behind it they could not but feel. They were all friends and neighbours; many of them had witnessed Carew's accident and had been constant in their enquiries as to his progress. The news of his death had come as a surprise and a shock, and such of them as happened to join company on the road discussed the matter by fits and starts, and surreptitiously as it were, but did not venture below the surface. Their women-folk at home had done all that was necessary in that respect for the fullest ventilation of the subject, without in any degree rendering it more savoury or comprehensible. Every man had felt it his bounden duty to be there, and so it was sixteen keenly interested faces that confronted Wulfrey when he took the chair at the head of the table and stood up to speak to them. His face was very grave, his manner noticeably quiet and restrained and very different from its usual jovial frankness. "This painful duty, doubly painful under the circumstances, as you will understand in a moment, has fallen to me in consequence of Dr Tamplin being laid up through the fall of his horse yesterday. I am sure you will not make it any more painful for me than it is. I shall not trouble you long. The matter is unfortunately clear and simple. Our friend, Mr Pasley Carew, died the night before last from the effects of a dose of strychnine, administered in a sleeping-draught in mistake for distilled water which was in the bottle alongside it on the shelf in my dispensary." His eyes ranged keenly over the startled faces round the table at which they had all of them so often sat,--under which some of them had not infrequently lain. Every face was alight with startled surprise. Not one of them showed the remotest sign of questioning his statement. Indeed, why should they? A man does not as a rule confess to so grave a lapse unless it is absolutely unavoidable, unless the truth must out and there is no possible loophole of escape. Not many men would fling away their life's prospects from simple pity for a woman. For love--yes, without a doubt, and count the cost small. But from simple pity, in remembrance of the time when the greater love had been possible? ... But no such idea found place in any of their minds. His eyes searched theirs for smallest flicker of doubt, but found none. Whatever the women at home might have suggested as extreme possibilities, these men accepted his word without a moment's hesitation. Elinor was perfectly safe. "He was in great pain and could only get rest and relief by means of opiates. How the mistake occurred I cannot explain, except that the bottles of distilled water and of strychnine stand alongside one another on my shelf, and that I had come in very tired that night and the sleeping-draught was prepared hurriedly. I deplore the results more than any of you possibly can, and of course I must accept the consequences. I have not judged it necessary to make any post-mortem examination. I was called by young Job early yesterday morning, and when I got here Carew was dead and the symptoms were those of poisoning by strychnine. I was amazed and horrified, but when I hurried back home I saw at once how the mistake might have been made, and--and--well, there the matter is and you must bring in such verdict as you deem right. You can see the body if you wish. You can examine the servants. Mrs Carew, I am sorry to say, is quite broken down with the shock. She has been, I am told, practically unconscious for nearly twenty-four hours and has only just come to herself. But if you would like to see her----" "No, no." "No need whatever," said the jurymen deprecatingly. Dr Wulfrey sat down and dropped his head into his hands, then got up again heavily and said, "You will discuss this matter better without me. I will leave you----" "Couldn't you possibly say he died as result of the accident, Wulf?" asked one--Jim Barclay of Breme. They all liked the Doctor. With some he had been on terms of very close friendship. Some of them had known him all his life and his father before him. "Ay, couldn't you?" chorussed some of the others. "If I could I should have done so," he said quietly. "But it wasn't so and I couldn't say it was." "Say it now, Wulf," urged his friend. "And I swear none of us will let it out. Isn't that so, gentlemen?" "Ay, ay!"--but somewhat dubiously from the older members, who saw that after this revelation of the actual facts to themselves their relations with the Doctor could never be quite the same again, however they might succeed in hoodwinking the world outside. They knew him, they liked him, but--well, at the back of their minds was the thought that if Dr Wulf could make a mistake in one case, there was no knowing but what he might in another,--that he might at any time come in tired and pick up the wrong bottle,--that, whatever risks one might accept on one's own account for old friendship's sake, one's wife and daughters should hardly be put into such a position all unknown to themselves. And more than one of them wondered what he would do if he should happen to be taken ill that night--send for Dr Wulf or the new man down in the village? Dale diagnosed their symptoms with the sensitiveness born of the equivocal nature of the new relationship in which his confession placed him towards them. "It is like your good-heartedness to suggest it, Barclay," he said to his impetuous friend, "but it cannot be. I can only do what seems to me right," and he left them to talk over their verdict. "Gad! but I'm mighty sorry this has happened," said one old squire who had known Wulf from the year one. "Many's the time I've sat at this table----" "And under it," interjected one. "Ay, and under it, and I never expected to sit round it on Pasley Carew. I'd give a year's rents to have him back, even if he was all in pieces and raging like the Devil." "Same here. Whatever we decide it'll get out, and it's bound to tell against Dr Wulf." "He's bound to suffer,--can't help it,--it's human nature. Suppose you took ill tonight now, Barclay. What would you do?" "What would I do? I'd send for Wulf Dale of course, and I'd have same faith in him as I've always had." "Of course, of course,"--but even those who said it had more the air of wishing to placate Barclay, who had a temper, rather than of any deep conviction as to their own course should the unfortunate necessity arise. "Well," said Barclay, with the manner of a volcano on the point of eruption. "All I can say is that if any man I know goes ill and does not send for Wulf Dale, he'll have me to reckon with if the other man doesn't kill him." "Hear, hear!" from various points about the table. "Well, we've got to decide something and make an end of the matter," said one. "Barclay, you write out what you think and I've no doubt we'll all agree to it." "I'm going to write nothing," said Barclay, whose strong brown hand was more accustomed to the hunting-crop than the pen. "I say 'Accidental Death,' and keep your mouths shut." They all said 'Accidental Death' and promised to keep their mouths shut; and Wulfrey, when he was called in, thanked theta soberly for their good intentions, but added to their verdict,--"as the result of strychnine poison administered in mistake for distilled water in a sleeping-draught prepared by Dr Wulfrey Dale." X Jim Barclay, who was a bachelor, kept his bed next morning with an alleged bad cold,---a thing he had never been troubled with in all his born days, and ostentatiously sent his man galloping for Dr Wulfrey as though his master's life depended on it. Wulfrey smiled at the message, understanding the staunch friendliness which lay behind it, and went. "Well, what's wrong with you?" he enquired of the burly patient, when he was shown up to his bedroom. "Just you, my boy. Haven't slept a wink all night for thinking of the whole ---- mess. Wulf, my lad, I'm afraid you'll have a deuce an' all of a time of it. Thought I'd show 'em there was one man thought none the worse of you. ----! ----! ----! Can't any man make a little mistake like that? Trouble is, most of those other fools have got a pack of yelping women-folk about 'em, and they're all on the quee-vee and as keen on the scent as any old----," and he launched into comparisons drawn from the kennels into which we need not enter. "They all promised not to blab, and they'll none of 'em tell any but their wives under promise of secrecy, and it'll be all over the country-side in a week." "I know it, old man. I've just got to stand it," said Dale soberly. "What's in your mind then?" "I'll just wait quietly and see what comes. I can't expect things to be as they were before." "And if things go badly? ---- ---- ---- it all!" "Then I'm thinking I'll go too." "Where?" "Oh, right away. America maybe, or Canada. It's a big country they say and just beginning to open up. I shan't starve anyway, wherever I go." "But,--to leave us all and all this? ---- ---- ---- it all, man! The place won't be like itself without you. ---- Pasley Carew!" "It wasn't his fault, you know----" "It was his ---- fault putting Blackbird at that ---- Old Road after the run we'd had, wasn't it? I told him he was two stone too heavy for her. But he always was a fool." "He was to blame there undoubtedly. But the rest I take to myself. If folks go to the other man I can't blame them. I shall go nowhere unless I'm sent for." "You'll have a ---- long holiday," growled Barclay. "Well, I can do with one." "I've half a mind to have a smash-up just to keep your hand in." "If you do I'll--I'll turn the other man on to you." "If he puts his nose in here he'll go out faster than he came, I wager you." It was comforting to have so whole-hearted a supporter; but one patient, and a sham one at that, does not make a practice, and Dale very soon felt the effects of the course he had chosen. He adhered resolutely to the decision he had come to to visit none of his patients unless he were sent for. It would be neither fair to them nor agreeable to himself. It might do more harm than good. As to Mrs Carew,--he had visited her immediately after the inquest, and told her briefly that all was right and she need have no further fears. There was nothing wrong with her which a few days' rest and the relief of her mind would not set right. All the same he rather feared she might send for him, and he debated in his own mind whether, if she did so, he should go or send her messenger on to Dr Newman. It appeared to him hardly seemly that the man who had accepted the responsibility for the death of the husband should continue his attendance on his widow. She did not of course as yet know the facts of the case as outsiders did. He was somewhat doubtful of the effect upon her when she came to a clear understanding of the matter. On the whole, he decided it would be better if possible not to see her again. What he had done for her had been done out of pity, but it was not the pity that sometimes leads to warmer feeling. All that had died a natural death when she married Carew. He attended the funeral with the rest. It would only have made comment if he had not. And Jim Barclay and most of the others were at pains to manifest their continued friendliness and confidence. Whether the full facts had got out he could not tell, but, rightly or wrongly, imagined so, and for the second time in his life he found himself ill at ease among his neighbours. The day after the funeral, young Job and a bunch of lively dogs came down again with an urgent message from Mrs Carew requesting him to call. "Is your mistress worse, Job?" he said. "She be main bad, Doctor, 'cording to that gal Mollie, but what 'tis I dunnot know. Mebbe she's just down wi' it all. Have ye heard ony talk yet as t' who's going to tek on th' pack?" "Mr Barclay will, I believe. He's a good man for it." "Ay, he may do. Bit heavy, mebbe, an' he's got a temper 'bout as bad as Pasley's." "Bit hot perhaps at times, but he's an excellent fellow at bottom." "All that, and his cussin' ain't to compare wi' Pasley's, which is a good thing. I c'n stand a reasonable amount o' cussin' myself and no offence taken, but Pasley did go past th' mark at times. Th' very hosses kicked when he let out. An' Jim Barclay he is good to his hosses, an' he only cusses when he must or bust. Ay, he'll do, seein' you won't tek it on yourself, Doctor." "It's not for me, Job. A doctor's time is not entirely his own, you know." "Ah!" said Job, and picked a twig from the hedge, and stuck it in his mouth, and trudged on in solemn silence. "We wus rather hopin', feyther an' me," he grunted after a time, "you'd mebbe have more time now fur th' pack an' would tek it on." "Why that, Job?" "Well, y' see, it'll mek a difference this. It's bound to mek a difference. Folks is such silly fools 'bout such things----" "What things?" "Why, that there strychnine. 'S if anyone couldn't mek a li'l mistake like that. Might have sense to know ye'd never let it happen again. Even th' leeghtnin', they say, never strikes twice i' same place. Though sure 'nuff it did hit th' old mill one side one day and t'other side next day. But even then 'twere opposite sides. But folks is fools." "So you know all about it." "Ay, sure! 'Twere that gal Mollie told me, an' it were Mrs Thelstane's gal Bet told her. None o' us think a bit the worse o' you, Doctor, you b'lieve me. But some folks is fools--most folks, if it comes to that.... An' as to Pasley--well, he were a terror now'n again. Th' Hall's like Heaven wi'out him." They went on again in silence for a time. But there was that in young Job's mind which had to come out. "If 'twere me, Doctor, askin' your pardon in advance for bein' so bold, what I'd do would be this. I'd just sit quiet till they done yelpin' and yappin' 'bout it all, then I'd marry th' missus,--we all knows you was sweet on her once,--and settle down comfortable at th' Hall and tek over th' pack an' mek us all happy." "That's out of the question, Job." "Is it now? ... Well, I'm sorry. Wus hopin' mebbe a word of advice from a man what's old enough to be your feyther, an's known you since day you was born, might be o' some use to ye. We'd like you fain well for Master, both o' th' Hall an' th' Hunt." "You're a good old chap, Job, and so's your father, but you'll both be doing me a favour if you'll stop any talk of that kind." "No manner o' use?" "No use at all." "Well, I'm main sorry. An' so's feyther, I can tell ye." Mrs Carew was sitting in a large chintz-covered armchair before the fire in her bedroom, when he was taken up to her by Mollie, who favoured him with her own diagnosis as they mounted the stairs. "She's that bad again. Can't sleep and off her food. Ain't had hardly anything all day or yes'day. Just sits 'fore th' fire and mopes from morn'n till night. 'Taint natural for sure, for him 'at's gone weren't one to cry for, that's cert'n.... No, she don't complain of any pain or anything. Just sits and mopes and cries on the quiet 's if her heart was broke. Sure she'd more cause to cry before he was took than what she has now." When he entered the room he did not at first see her, so sunk down was she in the depths of the great ear-flapped chair. She made no attempt to rise and greet him. When he stood beside her and quietly expressed his regret at finding her no better, she covered her face with her hands and sobbed convulsively. She looked little more than a girl, slight and frail and forlorn, as she crouched there with hidden face, and he was truly sorry for her. It was impossible for him to keep the sympathy he felt entirely out of his voice. "What can I do for you, Mrs Carew?" he asked quietly, and the forlorn figure shook again but made no response. "You are doing yourself harm with all this," he said gently again. "And there is really no occasion for it, that I can see." Her silent extremity of grief--her utter discomfiture was pitiful to look upon. It touched him profoundly, for he penetrated the meaning of it. She was overwhelmed with the knowledge of the sacrifice he had made for her--and with pity for herself. All he could do was to wait quietly till the feeling, roused afresh by his presence, had spent itself. "Oh, I did not know," she whispered at last, through the shielding hands. "I did not know you would do that.... You have ruined yourself.... You should have let them hang me." And there and then, on the spur of the moment, he leaped up a height which he had not even sighted a second before. He had, by the sacrifice of his prospects, saved her from the legal consequences of her act. That was irrevocably past and done with, and he must pay the price. But she was paying a double due--remorse for what she herself had done, bitter sorrow at the ruinous price he had paid for her safety. He had saved her life. Why not save her the rest?--her peace of mind, all her possibilities of future happiness. In any case it would make no difference to him. For her it might mean all the difference between darkness and light for the rest of her life. And she looked pitifully helpless and hopeless as she lay there sobbing convulsively in the big chair. He saw the possibility in a flash and gripped it. "Hang you? Why on earth should anyone want to hang you?" he asked, with all the natural surprise he could put into it. "You know,"--in a scared whisper. "Because I got him the poison----" "Come, come now! Let us have no more of that. I was hoping a good night's rest would have ridded you of that bad dream." "Dream?" and she looked up at him wildly. "Ah, if I could only believe it was a dream!" and she shook her head forlornly. "Why, of course it was a dream. You were over-wrought with it all, and your mind took the bit in its teeth and ran away with you. What you've got to do now is to try to forget all about it." "Forget!" "How I came to make such a mistake I cannot imagine, but when I got home I saw at once that there was an extra dose gone out of my strychnine bottle instead of out of the distilled water, and that explained it at once." "_You_? ... _You_ made the mistake?" she looked up at him again, eagerly, with warped face and knitted brows, and a wavering flutter of hope in her eyes.... "You are only saying it to comfort me." "I'm trying to show you how foolish it is to allow yourself to be ridden by this strange notion you've got into your head." "Strange notion? ... Did he not beg me to get him that stuff he used for the rats? And did I not get it for him? And he took it. And then----" she shivered at the remembrance of what followed when her husband took the draught. "All in that horrible dream when your mind was running away with you----" "And did you not come and tell me they would hang me unless I kept my mouth shut? And I lay all that dreadful night with the rope round my neck----" "All in your dream. I'm sorry. It must have been terribly real to you." "A dream?" and she stared wistfully into the fire, hex hands clasping and unclasping nervously. "If I could believe it!" "You must believe what I tell you, and forget all about it and recover yourself." "And you?" she said after a pause. "I shall be all right. Don't trouble your head about me." "If I did not do it," she said, after another long silent gazing into the fire, "then there would be no need for you to hate me----" "No need whatever,--all part of that stupid dream." "And ... sometime perhaps ... you would think better of me ... as you used to do. Oh,--Wulfrey! ..." If it had all happened as he had almost persuaded her to believe, he might have fallen into his own pit. For, under the stress of her emotions,--the wild hope of the possibility of relief from the horror that had been weighing her down,--the letting in of this thread of sunshine into the blackness of her despair,--the sudden joy of the thought that it was not she who needed Wulfrey's forgiveness, but he hers;--the shadows and the years fell from her, and she was more like the Elinor Baynard he had once been in love with than he had seen her since the day she married Pasley Carew. "We must not think of any such things," he said quickly, but not unkindly. He was very sorry for her, but he was no longer in love with her. "At present all we've got to think about is getting you quite yourself again. I will send you up some medicine,--if you won't be afraid to take it----" "Oh, Wulfrey! ..." with all the reproach she could put into it, and anxiously, "You will come again soon?" "If you get on well perhaps. If you don't I shall turn you over to Dr Newman," and he left her. "She ain't agoing to die, Doctor?" asked Mollie, as she waylaid him. "No, Mollie. She's going to get better." "Ah, I knew it'd do her good if you came to see her," said the astute handmaid with an approving look. "Get her to eat and feed her up. She's been letting herself run down." "Ah, she'll eat now maybe, if so be 's you've given her a bit of an appetite," said Mollie hopefully; and Dr Wulfrey went away home. XI But even two patients hardly make a practice, and though from the stolid commoner folk calls still came for 'th' Doctor's' services, upon the better classes a sudden blessing of unusual health appeared to have fallen, or else---- Dr Newman bought a horse about this time, and, though he did not as yet cut much of a figure on horseback, it enabled him to get about as he had never had occasion to do since he settled in the village, and it seemed as though, in his case as in others, practice would in time make him passable. Wulfrey watched the course of events quietly and with a certain equanimity. His mind was quite made up to go abroad, but he would not go till he was satisfied that that was the only course left to him. Everybody he met was as friendly as ever, the men especially, but sickness was a rare thing with them at any time, and their women-folk seemed to be getting along very well, for the time being without medical assistance, so far at all events as Dr Wulfrey Dale was concerned. Mrs Carew was better. Whatever she really believed as to the actual facts of her husband's death, she apparently accepted Dale's statement, to the great relief of her mind and consequent benefit to her health. She sent for the Doctor as often as she reasonably could, and sometimes without any better reason than her desire to see him. Until at last he told her she was perfectly well and he would come no more unless there were actual need. "But there is actual need, Wulfrey. It does me good to see you. If you don't come I shall fall into a low state again." "If you do I shall know it is simple perversity and I'll send Dr Newman to you." "Mollie would never let him in." Which was likely enough, for Mollie's mind was quite made up as to the only right and proper course for matters to take under all the present circumstances. The March winds brought on a mild epidemic of influenza. Dr Newman and his new horse were ostentatiously busy. Wulfrey saw that he had waited long enough, and that now it was time to go. No one could accuse him of running away. It was his practice that had found its legs and walked over to Dr Newman. He made his arrangements at once and by no means downcastly. The hanging-on had been trying. It was new life to be up and doing, with a new world somewhere in front to be discovered and conquered. He packed his trunks, gave Mr Truscott, the lawyer, instructions to dispose of his house and everything in it except certain specified articles and pictures, arranged with his bankers at Chester to collect and re-invest his dividends, drew out a couple of hundred pounds to go on with, told them he was going abroad and they might not hear from him for some time to come, and went round to say good-bye to Jim Barclay and Elinor Carew. "Where are you going?" asked Barclay, when he heard he was off. "Wherever the chase may lead," said Wulfrey, in better spirits than he had been for many a day. "I shall go first to the States and Canada and have a good look round. If any place lays hold of me I may settle down there." "For good and all?" "Possibly. Can't say till I see what it's like. I want you to take Graylock and Billyboy till I come back. You know all about them. There's no one else I'd care to leave 'em with and I don't care to sell them." "They'll miss you, same as the rest of us." "For a week or two, maybe. Dr Newman is getting into things nicely, but you might give him a lesson or two in riding, Jim." "---- him, I'd liefer break his back!" was Barclay's terse comment. "You'll let me know where you get to, Wulf, and maybe I'll take a run over to see you, if you really find it in your heart to settle out there. I'll bring the horses with me if you like." "I'll let you know. Fine sporting country, I believe,--bears, wolves, buffaloes, game of sorts." "Well, good-bye and God bless you, my boy! Remember there'll always be one man in the old country that wants you. I'd sooner die than have that new man poking round me. I'll send for old Tom Tamplin, hanged if I don't." Wulfrey rode on to the Hall. "Going away, Wulf? Where to and for how long?" asked Elinor, anxious and troubled. "That depends. I've not been up to the mark lately and a good long change will set me up." "But you will come back?" "I have really no plans made, except to get away for a time and see a bit of the outside world." "I was hoping ... you would stop and ... sometime, perhaps..." and the small white hands clasped and unclasped nervously, as was her way when her mind was upset. "The change I am sure will be good for me. And you are quite all right again. You are looking better than I've seen you for a long time past." "I'm all right," she said drearily, "except that I have bad dreams now and again. I cannot be quite sure in my own mind----" "Now, now!"--shaking a peremptory finger at her. "That is all past and done with. Bad dreams are forbidden, remember!" "I can't help their coming. They come in spite of all my trying at times. And they are always the same. I see Pasley lying on the bed, raging and cursing, and ordering me to go and get him----" "It's only a dream of a dream. I was hoping you had quite got the better of it. You must fight against it. Now I must run. Got a lot of things to do yet, and I'm off first thing in the morning. Good-bye, Elinor,--and all happiness to you!" BOOK II NO MAN'S LAND XII Wulfrey Dale, as he strolled about the Liverpool docks and basins, felt very much like a schoolboy who had run away from home in search of the wide free life of the Rover of the Seas. He had, however, one vast advantage over the runaway, in that he had money in his pocket and could pick and choose, and there was no angry master or troubled parent on his track to haul him back to bondage. He had no slightest regrets in the matter. Under all the circumstances of the case, he said to himself, he could have done nothing else. Elinor, left to herself, would undoubtedly have paid with her life, either on the gallows or in a mad-house, and that was unthinkable. The inexorable Law would have taken no account of the true inwardness of the case. He had saved her because he understood, and because the alternatives had been too dreadful to think of. As to the cost to himself,--the long blue-green heave of the sea, out there beyond the point, made little of that, changed it indeed from one side of the account to the other, and presented it, not as a loss, but as very substantial gain. Out beyond there lay the world, the vast unknown, the larger life; and the windy blue sky streaked with long-drawn wisps of feathery white cloud, and the tumbling green waves with their crisp white caps, and the screaming gulls in their glorious free flight, all tugged at his heart and called him to the quest. And these cumbered quays, with their heaps of merchandise, and the jerking ropes and squeaking pulley-blocks that piled them higher and higher every moment,--the swaying masts up above and busy decks down below,--the strange foreign smells and flavour of it all,--the rough tarry-breeks hanging about and spitting jovially in the intervals of uncouth talk,--all these were but a foretaste of the great change, and he savoured them all with vastest enjoyment. He inspected, from a distance, the great clippers that did the voyage to New York in twenty to twenty-five days, stately and disciplined, in the very look of them, as ships of the line almost. There were ships loading and unloading for and from nearly every port in the world. It was like being at the centre of a mighty spider's web whose arms and filaments reached out to the extremest ends of the earth. He had never felt so free in his life before. He was in no pressing hurry to settle on either his port or his ship, but in any case it would not be on one of those great packet-boats he would go. His fancy ran rather to something smaller, something more intimate in itself and less likely to be crowded with passengers whose acquaintance he had no desire to make. He wandered further among the smaller craft, with a relish in the search that was essentially a part of the new life. He developed quite a discriminating taste in ships, though it was only by chatting with the old salts who lounged about the quay-walls that he learned to distinguish a ship from a barque and a brig from a schooner. His preferences were based purely on appearances. The sea-faring qualities of the various craft were beyond him. But here and there, one and another would attract him by reason of its looks, and he would return again and again to compare them with still later discoveries, saying to himself, "Yes, that would do first-rate now, if she should happen to be going my way. We'll see presently." He came, in time, upon a brig loading in one of these outer basins, and even to his untutored eye she was a picture,--so graceful her lines, so tapering her masts, so trim and taut the whole look of her. "Where does she go to?" he asked of an old sailor-man, who was sitting on a cask, chewing his quid like an old cow and spitting meditatively at intervals. "Bawst'n, 'Merica, 's where she's bound this v'y'ge, Mister, an' ef she did it in twenty days I shouldn' be a bit s'prised, not a bit, I shouldn'." "Good-looking boat! What does she carry?" "Miskellaneous cargo. Bit o' everything, as you might say." "And when does she sail?"' "Fust tide, I reck'n, ef so be's her crew a'n't been ganged. Finished loading not ha'f an hour ago she did." "Does she take any passengers?" "Couldn' say. Passenger boats is mostly down yonder." "I know, but I like the look of this one better than the big ones." "Well, you c'n ask aboard." "Yes? How can I get on board?" "Why, down that there ladder," and Wulfrey, following the direction of a ponderous roll of the old fellow's head and a squirt of tobacco-juice, came upon some iron rungs let into a straight up-and-down groove in the face of the quay-wall. By going down on his hands and knees, and making careful play with his feet, he managed at last to get on to this apology for a ladder and succeeded in climbing down it, over the side of the ship on to its deck. The deck, dirty as it was with the work of loading, felt springy to his unaccustomed feet. It was the first ship's deck he had ever trodden. The very feel of it was exhilarating. It was like setting foot on the bridge that led to the new life. As he looked about him,--at the neatly-coiled ropes, the rope-handled buckets, the blue water-casks lashed to the deck below one of the masts, the masts themselves, massive below but tapering up into the sky like fishing-rods, the mazy network of rigging, four little brass carronades and the ship's bell, all polished to the nines and shining like gold,--the worries and troubles of the last few months fell from him like a ragged garment. Elinor Carew, and Croome, and Jim Barclay, and even Graylock and Billyboy, the parting with whom had been as sore a wrench as any, all seemed very far away, things of the past, shadowy in presence of these stimulating realities of the new life. He walked aft along the deck towards a door under the raised poop, and at the sound of his coming a man came out of the door and said, "Hello!" and stood and stared at him out of a pair of very deep-set, sombre black eyes. He was a tall, well-built fellow of about Wulfrey's own age, black-haired, black-bearded and moustached, and of a somewhat saturnine countenance. His face and neck were the colour of dark mahogany with much sun and weather. He wore small gold rings in his ears, and Wulfrey set him down for a foreigner,--a Spaniard, he thought, or perhaps an Italian. "I was told you were sailing tomorrow for Boston," said Wulfrey. "I came to ask if you take passengers." The man's black brows lifted a trifle and he took stock of Wulfrey while he considered the question. Then he said, "Ay? well, we do and we don't," and Wulfrey rearranged his ideas as to his nationality and decided that he was either Scotch or North of Ireland, though he did not look either one or the Other. "That perhaps means that you might." "Et's for the auld man to say----" "The Captain?" "Ay, Cap'n Bain." "Where could I see him?" "He's up in the toon." "If you'll tell me where to find him I'll go after him." The other seemed to turn this over in his mind, and then said, "Ye'd best see him here. He'll mebbe no be long." "Then I'll wait. What time do you expect to clear out?" "We'll know when the old man comes." "Perhaps you would let me see the rooms, while I'm waiting." The dark man turned slowly and went down three steps into the small main cabin. His leisurely manner suggested no more than a willingness not to be disobliging. It was a fair-sized room, with a grated skylight overhead, portholes at the sides, seats and lockers below them, and a table with wooden forms to sit on. At the far end were two more doors. "Cap'n's bunk and mine," said his guide, with a roll of the head towards the left-hand door, and opened the other for Wulfrey to look in at the narrow passage off which opened two small sleeping-rooms. "You are then----?" asked Wulfrey. "Mate." "You're Scotch, aren't you? I took you at first sight for a foreigner." "I'm frae the Islands.... Some folks hold there's mixed blood in some of us since the times when the Spaniards were wrecked there. Mebbe! I d'n know." "And Captain Bain? He's Scotch too, I judge, by his name." "Ay, he's Scotch--Glesca." "If he'll take me as passenger I'll be glad. This would suit me uncommonly well." "Ay, well. He'll say when he comes," and whenever his black eyes rested on Wulfrey they seemed to be questioning what it could be that made him wish to travel on a trading-brig rather than on a passenger-liner. However, he asked no questions but pulled out a black clay pipe, and Wulfrey pulled out his own and anticipated the other's search for tobacco by handing him his pouch. They had sat silently smoking for but a few minutes when a heavy foot was heard on the deck outside, and there came a gruff call for "Macro!" "Ay, ay, sir!" and the doorway darkened with the short burly figure of a man whose words preceded him, "Tom Crimp'll have 'em all here by ten o'clock an' we'll---- Wha the deevil's this?" "Wants to go passenger to Boston," explained the mate, and left Wulfrey to his own negotiations. "If you're open to take a passenger, Captain Bain, I've fallen in love with the looks of your ship." "What for d'ye no want to go in a passenger-ship? We're no a passenger-ship," and the Captain eyed him suspiciously. "Just that I dislike travelling with a crowd, I've been looking round for some days and your ship pleases me better than any I've seen." "Where are you from, and what's your name and rating!" "I'm from Cheshire. Name, Wulfrey Dale. Rating, Doctor." "An' what for are ye wanting to go to Boston!" "I'm going out to look round. I may settle out there if I find any place I like." "Are ye in trouble? Poisoned ony one? Resurrectionist, mebbe?" "Neither one nor the other. I've no work here. I'm going to look for some over there." "Can ye pay?" "Of course. I'm not asking you to take me out of charity." "That's a guid thing." "How much shall we say? And when do you sail?" "Et'll be twenty guineas, ped in advance, an' ef ye want ony victuals beyant what the ship provides, which is or'nary ship's fare same as me and the mate eats, ye'll provide 'em yourself." "Understood! And you sail----" "To-night's flood, ef the men get aboard all safe. They're promised me for ten o'clock." "I'll pay you now and go up for my things." "An' whaur may they be?" "At Cotton's, in Castle Street." "Aweel! Juist keep a quiet tongue in your heid, Doctor, as to the ship ye're sailing on. The 'Grassadoo' doesna tak passengers, ye ken, an' I dinna want it talked aboot." "I understand. I've only got a box and a bag, but I'll have to get a man to carry them." "Ay--weel!" and after a moment's consideration, "You wait at Cotton's an' we'll send Jock Steele, the carpenter, up for them at eight o'clock. Ye can coach or truck 'em as far as he says and carry 'em between you the rest." So Wulfrey paid down his twenty guineas, and Captain Bain stowed them away in his trouser pocket, and buttoned it up carefully, with a dry, "Donal' Bain's word's his only recip_ee_. You be here before ten o'clock and the 'Grassadoo' 'll be waiting for you." "That's all right, Captain," said Wulfrey. "And I'm much obliged to you for stretching a point and taking me." "It's me that's doing it, ye understand, not the owners. That's why." XIII The 'Grace-à-Dieu' justified Wulfrey's inexperienced choice. She was an excellent sea-boat, fast, and as dry as could be expected, seeing that she was chock full to the hatches, as Jock Steele informed him, while they carried down his baggage. But after his first four hours on board his personal interest in her character and performance lapsed for three full days. He had stood leaning over the side watching the lights of Liverpool as they dropped away astern, and then those of the Cheshire and North Welsh coasts, and felt that now indeed he had cut loose from the past and was in for a great adventure. It gave, him a curious, mixed feeling of depression and elation. He felt at once homeless and endowed with the freedom of the universe. He had burned his boats, he said confidently to himself, and was going forth to begin a new life, to conquer a new world. And he set his teeth and hung on to the heaving bulwark with grim determination. But the sense of elation and width of outlook dwindled with the sinking lights. The feeling of homelessness and helplessness grew steadily upon him. He had taken the precaution of stowing away a good meal before he set foot on board, and he lived on it for three days. He had never been bodily sick in his life before, but sick as he now was he was not too far gone to note the wretched peculiarity of his sensations, and to muse upon them and the ridiculousness of the provision he had made, at the Captain's suggestion, to supplement the usual cabin fare. He could not imagine himself ever eating again, as he lay there in his heaving bunk, with nothing to distract his mind from the unhappy vacuums above and below but the heavy tread of feet overhead at times, and the ceaseless rush and thrash of the waves a few inches from his ear, and the grinning face of the cabin-boy who came in at intervals to ask if he would like anything yet. But by degrees his head ceased to swim if he lifted it an inch off the pillow. By further degrees he found himself crouching up and clinging like a cat while he gazed unsteadily out of the tiny round porthole at the tumbling green and white water outside. Still further determination got him somehow into his clothes, and he dared to feel hungry and empty without nausea. Then he crawled out to the deck, feeling like a soiled rag. But the brisk south-west wind cleaned and braced him, and presently he nibbled a biscuit and found himself as hungry as a starving dog. After that he very soon found his sea-legs, and by the fourth day he was a new man, eating ravenously to make up for lost time, and keenly interested in all about him. So far they had had favourable weather and made good way. But Captain Bain was a fervent believer in the inevitability of equinoctials, and prophesied gales ahead, and the worse for being overdue. Wulfrey learned, from one and another, chatting at meals with the Captain or Sheumaish Macro, one or other of whom was generally on deck, or with Jock Steele the carpenter, who also acted as boatswain, that the 'Grace-à-Dieu' was French-built which, according to Steele, accounted for the fineness of her lines. "We build stouter but we cannot touch them for cut. She's as pretty a little ship as ever I set eyes on and floats like a gull," was the character Steele gave her. And he should know, as he'd made four voyages in her since their owners in Glasgow bought her out of the Prize Court, and she'd never given them any undue trouble even in the very worst of weather. The crew, again according to Steele, were a very mixed lot, a few good seamen, the rest just lubbers out of the crimp house. With Captain Bain and Sheumaish Macro, the mate, he got on well enough, but found both by nature very self-contained and manifesting no inclination for more than the necessary civilities of the situation. "And why should they?" he said to himself. "I'm an outsider and they know nothing more about me than I've told them myself. Another fifteen or twenty days and we part and are not likely ever to meet again." He made one discovery about them, however, which disquieted him somewhat. They were both heavy drinkers, but they usually so arranged matters, by taking their full bouts at different times, as not to bring the ship into serious peril. Wulfrey's eyes were opened to it by the fact of his not being able to sleep one night. After tossing and tumbling in his bunk for a couple of hours, and finding sleep as far off as ever, he dressed again sufficiently to go on deck for a blow. As he passed through the cabin he found Captain Bain there with his head sunk on his arms on the table, and, fearing he might be ill, he went up to him. But he needed no medical skill to tell him what was the matter. The old man was as drunk as a lord and breathing like an apoplectic hog. So he eased his neck gear and left him to sleep it off. Macro was on deck in charge of the ship. Wulfrey simply told him he had been unable to sleep, but made no mention of the Captain's condition. And the mate said, "Ay, we're just getting into thick of Gulf Stream and it tells on one." Another night he found Steele in charge, and on the growl at the length of his watch, and gathered from him that both Captain and mate had on this occasion been indulging in a bit drink and were snoring in their bunks. He could only hope that Captain Bain's prognosticated equinoctials, which were now considerably overdue, would not come upon them when both their chiefs were incapacitated. And his only consolation was the thought that this was not an exceptional occurrence but probably their usual habit when well afloat, and that so far no disaster had befallen them. So, day after day, they sped along west-south-west, making good way and sighting none but an occasional distant sail. Then they ran into mists and clammy weather, and sometimes had a wind and drove along with the swirling fog or across it, and sometimes lay rocking idly and making no way at all. Wulfrey gathered, from occasional words they let fall between themselves, and from their answers to his own questions, that this was all usual and to be expected. They were getting towards Newfoundland where the Northern currents met the Southern, hence the fog, and it was too early for icebergs, so there was no danger in pressing on whenever the wind permitted. Their seventeenth day out was the dullest they had had, heavy and windless, with a shrouded sky and a close gray horizon and, to Wulfrey's thinking, a sense of something impending. It was as though Nature had gone into the sulks and was brooding gloomily over some grievance. Captain Bain stripped the ship of her canvas, and sent down the topmasts and yards, and made all snug for anything that might turn up. All day and all night they lay wallowing in vast discomfort, and Wulfrey lost all relish for his food again. "What do you make of it, Bo's'un?" he asked, as he clawed his way up to Steele on the after deck, where he was temporarily in charge again. "Someth'n's comin', sir," said Steele portentously, "but what it is beats me, unless it's one o' them e-quy-noctials the skipper's bin looking for." In the night the fog closed down on them as thick as cotton wool; and, without a breath of wind, the long seas came rolling in upon them out of the thick white bank on one side and out into the thick white bank on the other, till their scuppers dipped deep and worked backwards, shooting up long hissing white jets over the deck, and making everything wet and uncomfortable. Every single joint and timber in the ship seemed to creak and groan as if in pain, and Wulfrey, as he listened in the dark to the strident jerkings and grindings and general complainings of the gear, and pictured the wild sweeps and swoops of the masts away up in the fog there, wondered how long it could all stand the strain, and how soon it would come clattering down on top of them. Once, when a bigger roll than usual flung him against the mainmast and he clung to it for a moment's safety, the rending groans that came up through it from the depths below sent a creepy chill down his spine. It sounded so terribly as though the very heart of the ship were coming up by the roots. Sleep was out of the question. His cabin was unbearable. Its dolorous creakings seemed to threaten collapse and burial at any moment. If they had to go down he would sooner be drowned in the open than like a rat in its hole. And so he had crawled up on deck to see what was towards. The only comfort he found--and that of a very mixed character--was in the sight of Captain Bain and the mate, sitting one on each side of the cabin table with their legs curled knowingly round its stout wooden supports, which were bolted to the floor, and which they used alternately as fender and anchor to the rolling of the ship. They had made all possible provision against contingencies. They could do no more, and it was no good worrying, so now they sat smoking philosophically and drinking now and again from a bottle of rum which hung by the neck between them from a string attached to the beam above their heads. Wulfrey stood the discomforts of the deck till he was chilled to the marrow, then he tumbled into the cabin, and annexed a third leg of the table and sat with the philosophers and waited events. "It's hard on the ship, Captain," he said, by way of being companionable. But the Captain only grunted and deftly tipped some rum into his tin pannikin as the bottle swung towards him on its way towards the roof. And the mate looked at him wearily as much as to say, "Man! don't bother us with your babytalk," and it seemed to him that they had both got a fairly full cargo aboard. However, he decided it was not for him to judge or condemn. They knew their own business better than he did. There was no wind, no way on the ship, and all they could do was to lie and wallow and wait for better times. And the fact that they took it so calmly reassured him somewhat. The cabin was so full of fog and tobacco-smoke that the light from the swinging oil-lamp could barely penetrate beyond the table. It made a dull ghastly smudge of yellow light through which the bottle swung to and fro like an uncouth pendulum, and he sat and watched it. Now it was up above his head between him and the mate; now it was sweeping gracefully over the table; now it was up above the Captain, who reached out and tipped some more rum into his pannikin. He watched it till it began to exert a mesmeric influence on, him and his head began to feel light and swimmy. He knew something about Mesmer and his experiments from his reading at home. He experienced a detached interest in his own condition and wondered vaguely if the bottle would succeed in putting him to sleep. He tried to keep his eyes on it, but they kept wandering off to the Captain, on whom it had already done its business, though in a different way. He was dead tired. It was, he reckoned, quite six-and-thirty hours since he had had any sleep. What time of night or morning it was he had no idea. This awful rolling and groaning and creaking seemed to have been going on for an incalculable time. What with the heavy unwholesomeness of the atmosphere, and the monotonous swing of the bottle, and the lethargic impassivity of his companions, he fell at last into a condition of dull stupidity, which might have ended in sleep but for the necessity of alternately hanging on to and fending off the table, as the roll of the ship flung him away from it or at it. And how long this went on he never knew. He was jerked back to life by a sudden clatter of feet overhead and a shout. Then he was flung bodily on to the table, and found himself lying over it and looking down at Captain Bain, who had tumbled backwards in a heap into a corner. The rum-bottle banged against the roof and rained its fragments down on him. The lamp leaned up at a preposterous angle and stopped there. "We're done," thought Wulfrey dazedly, and became aware of fearsome sounds outside,--a wild howling shriek as of all the fiends out of the pit,--thunderous blows as of mighty hammers under which the little ship reeled and staggered,--then grisly crackings and rendings and crashes on deck, mingled with the feeble shouts of men. Then, shuddering and trembling, the ship slowly righted herself and Wulfrey breathed again. Outside, the howling shriek was as loud as ever, the banging and buffeting worse than before. Macro unhooked his long legs from the table and made for the door. The Captain gathered himself up dazedly and rolled after him, and Wulfrey followed as best he could. But he could see very little. The fog was gone. The fierce rush of the gale drove the breath back into his throat and came near to choking him. Huge green seas topped with snarling white came leaping up over the side of the ship near him. A man with an axe was chopping furiously at the shrouds of the fallen main-mast amid a wild tangle of ropes and spars. As they parted, the ship swung free and went labouring off before the gale under somewhat easier conditions, and Wulfrey hung tight in the cabin doorway and breathed still more hopefully. He had thought the end was come, but they were still afloat, though sadly shorn and battered. What their chances of ultimate safety might be was beyond him, but while there was life there was hope. XIV For three days life to Wulfrey was a grim experience made up of damp discomfort, lack of food and rest, and growing hopelessness. Both their masts had gone like carrots, leaving only their ragged stumps sticking up out of the deck. "An' if they hadn't we'd bin gone ourselves," growled the carpenter to him one day. Where they fell the sides of the ship were smashed and torn, and the hungry waves came yapping up through the gaps, most horribly close and threatening. Three men had been washed overboard in that first fierce onrush. The rest crouched miserably in the forecastle, and no man on board could remember what it felt like to be dry and warm and full. Meals there were none. When any man's hunger forced him to eat, he wolfed sodden biscuit and a chunk of raw pork, and washed it down with rum. So ghastly did the discomfort become, as the wretched days succeeded the still more miserable nights, that at last Wulfrey, for one, was prepared to welcome even the end as a change for the better. Observations were out of the question. In these four days they never once saw sun or moon or star, nothing but a close black sky, gray with flying spume. The great seas came roaring out of it behind them and rushed roaring into it in front of them, and where they were getting to, beyond the fact that they were driving continuously more or less west-by-north, no man knew. Captain Bain and the mate and the carpenter had done all that could be done since the catastrophe, but that was very little. An attempt was made to rig a jury mast on the stump of the foremast, but the gale ripped it away with a jeering howl and would have none of it. With some planking torn from the inside of the ship they barricaded the seas out of the forecastle as well as they could. It was the carpenter's idea to fix these planks upright, so that their ends stood up somewhat above the top of the forecastle, and so great was the grip of the gale that that slight projection sufficed to keep their head straight before it and afforded them slight steerage way. So they staggered along, dismantled and discomfited, and waited for the gale to blow itself out or them to perdition, and were worn so low at last that they did not much care which, so only an end to their misery. And the end came as unexpectedly as the beginning. From sheer weariness they slept at times, in chill discomfort and dankest wretchedness, just where they sat or lay. And Wulfrey was lying so, in a stupor of misery, caring neither for life nor death, when the final catastrophe came. Without any warning the ship struck something with a horrible shock that flung everything inside it ajee. Then she heeled over on her starboard side, baring her breast to the enemy. The great green waves leaped at her like wolves on a foundered deer. They had been chasing her for three days past and now they had got her. She was down and they proceeded to worry her to pieces. No ship ever built could stand against their fury. The 'Grace-à-Dieu' melted into fragments as though she had been built of cardboard. Wulfrey, jerked violently out of the corner where he had been lying, rolled down towards the door of the cabin as the ship heeled over. As he clawed himself up to look out, a green mountain of water caught him up and carried him high over the port bulwarks which towered like a house above him, and swept him along on its broken crest. He could swim, but no swimmer could hope to save himself by swimming in such a sea, and he was weak and worn with the miseries of the last three days. He had no hope of deliverance, but yet struck out mechanically to keep his head above water, and his thrashing arm struck wood. He gripped it with the grip of a drowning man and clung for dear life. It was a large square structure, planking braced with cross-pieces, almost a raft. He hung to the edge while the water ran out of his mouth and wits, and then, inch by inch, hauled himself cautiously further aboard, and, lying flat, looked anxiously about for signs of his shipmates, but with little hope. He could see but a yard or two on either side, and then only the threatening welter of the monstrous green seas, terrifyingly close and swelling with menace. Nothing? ... Stay!--a white gleam under the green, like a scrap of paper in a whirlpool, and a desperate face emerged a yard or so away and a wildly-seeking hand. The anguished eyes besought him, and, not knowing what else to do, he gripped two of the cross-pieces of his raft and launched his legs out towards the drowning man. They were seized as in a vice, and presently, inch by inch, the gripping hands crept up his body till the other could lay hold of the raft for himself. And Wulfrey, turning, saw that it was the mate, Sheumaish Macro, whose life he had saved. They drew themselves cautiously up into such further safety as the frail ark offered and lay there spent. And Wulfrey, for one, wondered if the quicker end had not been the greater gain. XV Sleeping and eating anyhow and at any time, they had lost all count of time this last day or two. It was, however, daylight of a kind, but so gray and murky and mixed with flying spume that they could see but little. Neither man had spoken since they crawled up on to the raft. Death was so close that speech seemed futile. They both lay flat on their stomachs, gripping tight, and peering hopelessly through nearly closed eyes, expectant of nothing, doubting the wisdom of their choice of the longer death. "God!" cried Macro of a sudden, as they swung up the back of a wave. "Where in ---- ha' we got to?" And Wulfrey got a glimpse of most amazing surroundings. Right ahead of them the sea was all abristle with what, to his quick amazed glance, looked like the bones and ribs of multitudinous ships, the ruins of a veritable Armada. Now it was all hidden, as they sank into a weltering green valley with tumbling green walls all about them. Then the solid green bottom of their valley was ripped into furious white foam, and stark black baulks of timber came lunging up through it, all crusted with barnacles, festooned with hanging weeds, and laced with streaming white. They looked like grisly arms of deep-sea monsters reaching up out of the depths to lay hold of them. They seemed intent on impaling the frail raft. They seemed to change places, to dart hither and thither as though to head it off, to lie in wait for it, to spring up in its course. It was frightful and unnerving. Wulfrey shut his eyes tight and set his teeth, and waited for the inevitable crash and the end. A great wave lifted them high above the venomous black timbers and, swinging on its course, dropped them as deftly as a crane could have done it, into the inside of a mighty cage. Wave after wave did its best to lift them out and speed them on. Their raft rose and fell and banged rudely against the ribs of their prison. Up and down they swung, and round and round, bumping and grinding till they feared the raft would go to pieces. But the tide had passed its highest and the storm was blowing itself out, and they had come to the end of the voyage. "We're in hell," gasped the mate, as he clung to the jerking cross-pieces to keep himself from being flung off, and to Wulfrey's storm-broken senses it seemed that he was right. XVI All that night they swung and bumped inside their cage, with somewhat less of bodily discomfort as the wind fell and the sea went down, but with only such small relief to their minds as postponement of immediate death might offer. Wulfrey lay prone on the raft, grimping to it mechanically, utterly worn out with all he had gone through these last four days. He sank into a stupor again and lay heedless of everything. The tide fell to its lowest and was rising again when dawn came, and though the huge green waves still rolled through their cage, and swung them to and fro, and sent them rasping against its massive bars, they were as nothing compared with the waves of yesterday. It was the sound of Macro cracking shell-fish and eating them that roused Wulfrey. He raised his heavy head and looked round. The mate hacked off a bunch of huge blue-black mussels from the post they were grinding against at the moment, opened several of them and put them under his nose. Without a word he began eating and felt the better for them. Presently he sat up and looked about him in amazement, and rubbed the salt out of his smarting eyes and looked again. "Where in heaven's name are we?" he gasped. And well he might, for stranger sight no man ever set eyes on. "Last night I thocht we were in hell," said Macro grimly. "An' seems to me we're not far from it. We're in the belly of a dead ship an' there's nought but dead ships round us." Their immediate harbourage, into which the friendly wave had dropped them, was composed of huge baulks of timber like those that had tried to end them the night before, sea-sodden and crusted thick with shell-fish, and as Wulfrey's eyes wandered along them he saw that the mate was right. They were undoubtedly the mighty weather-worn ribs of some great ship, canting up naked and forlorn out of the depths and reaching far above their heads. There in front was the great curving stem-piece, and yon stiff straight piece behind was the stern-post. But when his eyes travelled out beyond these things his jaw dropped with sheer amazement. Everywhere about them, wherever he looked, and as far as his sight could reach, lay dead ships and parts of ships. Some, like their own, entire gaunt skeletons, but more still in grisly fragments. Close alongside them a great once-white, now weather-gray and ghostly figurehead representing an angel gazed forlornly at them out of sightless eyes. From the position of its broken arms and the round fragment of wood still in its mouth, it had probably once blown a trumpet, but the storm-fiends would have no music but their own and had long since made an end of that. Close beside it jutted up a piece of a huge mast, with part of the square top still on and ragged ropes trailing from it. Alongside it a bowsprit stuck straight up to heaven, defiant of fate, and more forlornly, a smaller ship's whole mast with yards and broken gear still hanging to it all tangled and askew. And beyond, whichever way he looked--always the same, dead ships and the limbs and fragments of them. "It's a graveyard," he gasped. "Juist that," said the mate dourly, "an' we're the only living things in it." And presently, brooding upon it, he said, "There'll be sand down below an' they're bedded in it. When tide goes down again maybe we can get out." "Where to?" "Deil kens! ... But it cann't be worse than stopping here." The slow tide lifted them higher and higher within their cage, hiding some of the baleful sights but giving them wider view over the whole grim field. They sat, and by way of change stood and lay, on their cramped platform. They knocked off shell-fish and ate them. So far, so water-sodden had they been of late, they had not suffered from thirst, but the dread of it was with them. Then, slowly, the waters sank, and all the bristling bones of ships came up again. "Can you swim?" asked Macro abruptly at last. "I can. But I feel very weak. I can't go far I'm afraid." "We can't stop on here." "Where shall we go?" "Over yonder. They're thickest there and they stand out more. Mebbe it's shallower that way." "I'll do my best to follow you. If I can't, you go on." "Nay. You gave me a hand last night. We'll stick together, and sooner we start the better.... Stay ... mebbe we can----" and he began pounding at the end planks of their raft with his foot to start them from the cross-pieces. "'Twas the roof of the galley," he explained, "and none too well made. It got stove in last voyage and we rigged this one up ourselves. My wonder is it held together in the night." He managed at last with much stamping to loosen four boards. "One under each arm will help," he said, "An' we can paddle along an' not get tired." He let himself down into the water, shipped a board under each arm, and struck out between two of the gaunt ribs, and Wulfrey followed him, somewhat doubtful as to what might come of it. But the mate had taken his bearings and was following a reasoned course. Over yonder the wrecks lay thick. There might be one on which they could find shelter--even food. But that he hardly dared to hope for. As far as he had been able to judge, at that distance, they were all wrecks of long ago and mostly only bare ribs and stumps. To Wulfrey, from water-level, the sea ahead seemed all abristle with shipping, as thick, he thought to himself, as the docks at Liverpool. But there all was life and bustling activity, and here was only death,---dead ships and pieces of ships, and maybe dead men. The feeling of it was upon them both, and they splashed slowly along with as little noise as possible, as though they feared to rouse the sleepers who had once peopled all these gruesome ruins. "See yon!" whispered Macro hoarsely, as he slowed up and waited for Wulfrey to come alongside, and following the jerk of his head Wulf saw the figure of a man grotesquely spread-eagled in a vast tangle of cordage that hung like a net from a broken mast. "We had better see," said Wulfrey, and kicked along towards it, the mate following with visible reluctance. It was the body of Jock Steele, the carpenter, livid and sodden, and many hours dead. "I would we hadna seen him," growled Macro. "He'll do us no harm. He was a decent man. I'm sorry he's gone. Is there any chance of any of the others being alive?" "Deil a chance!" "Still, we are----" "You had the deil's own luck and it's only by you I'm here. Let's get on," and they splashed on again. Past wreck after wreck, grim and gaunt and grisly, mostly of very ancient date, all swept bare to the bone by the fury of the seas, all with the water washing coldly through them. Now and again Macro growled terse comments,-- "A warship,--from the size of her. See those ribs, they'll last another hundred years. And yon's a Dutchman. They build stout too. Mostly British though, bound to be, hereabouts." "Have you any idea where we are, then?" "An idea--ay! I've heard tell o' this place, but I never met anyone had been here. They mostly never come back. They call it what you called it a while ago--'The Graveyard.'" "And where is it?" "Sable Island, if I'm right,--'bout one hundred miles off Nova Scotia." "And is there any island?" "Ay,--on the chart, but I never met any man had been there. We're looking for it. There's no depth here or all them ribs wouldn't be sticking up like that. They're stuck in the sand below. Must be over yonder where they lie so thick.... An' a fearsome place when we get there, with the spirits of all them dead men all about it--hundreds of 'em,--thousands, mebbe." "Do ships ever call there?" "Not if they can help it, I trow. It's Death brings 'em and he holds 'em tight.... Hearken to that now!"--and he stopped as though in doubt about going further. And Wulfrey, listening intently, caught a faint thin sound of wailing far away in the distance. It rose and fell, shrill and piercing and very discomforting, though very far away. "What is it?" he jerked. "Spirits," breathed Macro, and his face was more scared and haggard even than before. "Nonsense!" said Wulfrey, with an assumption of brusqueness for his own reassurance, for this dismal progress through the graveyard was telling sorely on him also, and the sounds that came wavering across the water were as like the shrieking of souls in torment as anything he could imagine. "There are no such things. Don't be a fool, man!" "Man alive!--no spirits? The Islands are full o' them, an' this place fuller still. Yes, indeed!" But it was obviously impossible to float about there for ever. The water was not nearly so cold as Wulfrey had expected, but the strain of the night and of the preceding days of semi-starvation had told on him, and he was feeling that he could not stand much more. He set off doggedly again towards the thickest agglomeration of dead shipping in front, and the mate followed him with a face full of foreboding. They went in silence, paying no heed now to the things they passed on the way, though the apparently endless succession of dead ships and the parts of them was not without its effect on their already broken spirits. "Gosh!" cried Macro of a sudden. "I touched ground or I'm a Dutchman! Ay--sand it is," and Wulfrey sinking his feet found firm bottom. "Better keep the floats," suggested the mate. "Mebbe it's only the side of a bank we're on." They waded on, breast-deep, and presently were out of their depth again. But the feel of something below them, and the certainty that it was still not very far away, were cheering. In a few minutes they were walking again, having evidently crossed a channel between two banks. And so, alternately walking and swimming, they drew at last towards the jungle of wreckage; and all the time, from somewhere beyond it, rose those piercing, wailing screams which Macro in his heart was certain came from the spirits of the dead. Here the water was no more than up to their knees and shoaling still, and they came now upon more than the bones of ships,--chaotic masses of masts and spars and rigging piled high and wide in fantastic confusion, and in among them, tangled beyond even the power of the seas to chase them further, barrels and boxes and crates, some still whole, mostly broken; rotting bales, and pitiful and ridiculous fragments of their contents worked in among them as if by impish hands. "Gosh, what wastry!" said Macro at the sight. "There's many a thousand pounds of goods piled here,--ay, hunderds of thousands, webbe." "I'd give it all for a crust of bread," said Wulfrey hungrily. "An' mebbe there's that too. If any o' them casks has flour in 'em we needn' starve. It cakes round the sides wi' the wet, but the core's all right." Then, beyond the gigantic barrier of wastry, rose again that shrill screaming and shrieking, louder than ever, and Macro said "Gosh!" and looked like bolting back into the sea. Wulfrey, determined to fathom it, hauled himself painfully up a tangle of ropes and clambered to the top of the pile and saw, about a mile away, a narrow yellow spit of sand, and all about it a dense cloud of sea-birds, myriads of them, circling, diving, swooping, quarrelling. One moment the vast gray cloud of them drooped to the sea and seemed to settle there, the next it was whirling aloft like a writhing water-spout, every component drop of which was a venomous bundle of feathers shrieking and screaming its hardest in the bitter fight for food. And the harsh and raucous clamour of them, each intent on its own, had in it something fiendishly inhuman and chilling to the blood. "It's only sea-birds, man," he cried to Macro. "Come up and see for yourself," and the mate, with new life at the word, hauled himself up alongside and stood staring. "My Gosh! ... I never saw the like o' that before," he said at last. "There's millions of 'em. They're fighting ... over our shipmates mebbe.... We needn' starve if we can get at 'em," a sentiment which somehow, in all the circumstances of the case, did not greatly appeal to Wulfrey, hungry as he was. "If they all set on a man he wouldn't have much chance," he said, with a shiver. "They could pick him clean before he knew where he was." "It's only dead men they feed on," said Macro, quite himself again, since it was only birds they had to deal with and not disembodied spirits. "There's land. Let's get ashore," and they crawled precariously along over the wreckage, which sagged and dipped beneath them in places, and in places towered high and had to be scaled as best they could, and at times they had to wade or swim from pile to pile. Amazing things they chanced upon in their course, but were too intent on reaching land to give them more than a passing glance or a shudder. More than once they came on bones of men, jammed in tight among the raffle, and slowly picked by the sea and the things that lived in it till they gleamed white and polished and clean. And their grinning teeth, set in the awful fixed smile of the fleshless, seemed to welcome them as future recruits to their company. "Ah--ah! So you've come at last!" they seemed to say, as they laughed up at them out of holes and corners. "We've been waiting for you all these years and here you are at last." There were, too, bales and boxes of what had been rich cloths and silks and satins and coarser stuffs, worried open by the fret of the sea and reduced to sodden slimy punk, and casks and barrels beyond the counting. "Wastry! Wastry!" panted Macro. "We'll come back sometime, mebbe." But, for the moment, their only craving was for dry land, to savour the solid safety of it, and get something to eat if they could, and a long long rest. With desperate determination they dragged their sodden and weary bodies through the shallows beyond, and blind fury filled them with spasmodic vigour as they saw what the sea-birds were feeding on. Over each poor body the carrion crew settled like flies, and tore and screamed and quarrelled. The two living men dashed at them with angry shouts, and the birds rose in a shrieking host amazed at their interference. But only for a moment. They came swooping down again in a gray-white cloud, with raucous cries and eyes like fiery beads, and beat at them with their wings, and menaced them with already reddened beaks. And they looked so murderously intentioned that the men were fain to bow their heads and run, with flailing arms to keep them off. And so at last to dry land, and grateful they were for the feel of it, even though it seemed no more than a waste of sand but a few feet above tide-level. That last tussle with the birds had drained their strength completely. They dropped spent on the beach and lay panting. Their flight had set their chilled blood coursing again, a merciful sun had come up above the clouds that lay along the horizon, and in spite of their hunger and the fact that their very bones felt soaked with salt water, they both fell asleep where they lay. XVII Wulfrey was wakened by a sharp stab in the neck, and when he sat up with a start a huge cormorant squawked affrightedly at the dead man coming to life again, and flapped away, gibbering curses and leaving a most atrocious stink behind him. The mate was still sleeping soundly, and Wulfrey, for the time being more painfully cognisant of the gnawing emptiness within than of the miracle that permitted him any sensation whatever, sat gazing anxiously about and revolving the primary problem of food. Out there among all that mass of wreckage it would be strange if they could not find something eatable,--cores of flour barrels, perhaps pickled pork, rum almost certainly; and the clammy void inside him craved these things most ardently. But he could not, as yet, imagine himself venturing out there again to get them. Later on perhaps, but for the present the land, such as it was, must provide, for him at all events. He felt that he simply had not the heart or the strength to make the attempt. Let me say at once that the trying of these men, which came upon them presently, was not in the matter of ways and means. It was of the spirit, not of the flesh. But yet it is necessary to show you how they came through these lesser trials of the flesh only to meet the greater trials of the spirit later on. And even these smaller matters are not entirely devoid of interest. Many birds came circling round expectantly, and swooped down towards the dark figures lying in the sand, and went off in shrill amazement when they were denied. And Macro at last stretched and yawned and sat up, staring dazedly at Wulfrey. "Gosh, but I'm hungered," he said at last, as that paramount claim emphasised itself. "Anything to eat?" "I'm wondering. Plenty of birds, and very bad they smell. I've seen nothing else." The mate got up heavily and found himself sore and stiff. He stood looking thoughtfully about him. "What about all that stuff?" and he jerked his head towards the graveyard wreckage. "I couldn't go again yet." "Nor me either.... Ground's higher over yonder," he said. "Let's go and see," and they set off slowly over the sand. The level of high water was thickly strewn with seaweed and small wreckage. The slope of the shore was so long and gentle that no large object could come in unless it were first broken into fragments outside. The mate kicked over the sea-weed and found some which he put into his mouth. "Any good?" asked Wulfrey anxiously, hungrier than ever at sight of the other's working jaws. "Better'n nothing," and he rooted up another piece and handed it over. Wulfrey found it tough and pungent of the sea and, after much chewing, capable of being swallowed, but the most he also could say for it was that it was just that much better than nothing. They each picked up a piece of wood with which to root in the tangle, and, bending and picking and munching, made their way slowly towards the hummocks in front. These were a low range of sandhills, some of them as much as thirty feet high, and on the seaward side, which they climbed, they were sparsely clothed with coarse slate-green wire-grass about a foot in height, which bristled up like porcupines' quills and helped to keep the loose soft sand together. They pulled some up to see if the roots looked edible, and found them spreading far and wide below ground in a matted tangle of white succulent-looking tendrils, which proved as tough and unsatisfying as the sea-weed, but had the advantage of a different flavour. Grubbing along, they climbed heavily through the yielding sand to the top of the nearest hummock. Macro, arriving there first, jerked a gratified "Gosh!" and floundered down the other side whirling his stick, and Wulfrey was just in time to catch the amazing sight of the whole surface of the little valley beyond in violent motion. He thought at first that something had gone wrong with his eyes, for everywhere he looked the sand seemed to be jumping and skipping and burying itself in itself. And then from the innumerable little flecks of white, bobbing spasmodically all over the place, he perceived that these were rabbits, and the mate was in among them, knocking them on the head as fast as his stick could whirl. By the time Wulfrey reached him he was sitting in the sand, skinning one with his knife, and half a dozen more lay round him. "Better than roots and seaweed," he said, as he hacked the first in pieces and stuffed some into his mouth and handed some to Wulfrey. "There's millions of 'em. We won't starve," and he started skinning another. Raw meat was a novelty, to Wulfrey at all events but baby-rabbit flesh is eatable, even raw, and it put new life into them both. The little valley in which they sat was like an oasis in the sandy desert outside. For here, among the wire-grass grew innumerable small creeping-plants and that so sturdily though so modestly that, in spite of the vast horde of rabbits, the whole place was carpeted with green, and right in the centre, where the ground was lowest and the undergrowth thickest and darkest, was a considerable pool of rainwater, which they found brackish but drinkable. "All we want now is shelter and fire, and we'll live like kings and fighting-cocks," said Macro, when he had time for anything but rabbit-flesh, and lay back comfortably distent. "And where shall we find shelter and fire in this place?" "Man! There's more'n we'll ever need in all our lives, over yonder. But it'll keep.... I'm not for going back there this day anyway. To-morrow, mebbe,----" he said drowsily, and presently they were both fast asleep again. And the rabbits came out at sunset and hopped about them, and sniffed them with quivering noses and disrelish, and the heavy dew fell on them, but they never woke. For Nature had now got all she needed for the reparation of the previous waste, and she was busily at work making good while they slept. XVIII Morning broke dull, and heavy. The air was mild but full of moisture, and they were chilled with their long sleep in the open. "Gosh! but I'd like to feel dry again," said Macro, as they sat munching raw rabbit for breakfast. "D'you feel like going out yonder?" "I feel three times the man I was yesterday. But should we not go on further first? There may be someone living on the island." "Not a soul but us two, I warrant you." "But since we're here there might be others." "That's so. There might be, but not likely. It's just luck, deil's own luck, 'at those screeching deevils out yonder aren't picking us to pieces like the rest." "Say Providence, and I'll agree with you," said Wulfrey, who saw no need to ascribe to the devil so obviously good a work as far as they were concerned. "Ca' it what you like, not one man in a thousand comes alive through what we came through. And I'm not forgetting that but for you I'd no be here myself. We can take a bit look round, but I'm sore set on a covering of some kind and a fire, and some rum would be cheerful. It's in my bones that we'll find all we want out there, and more besides." So, after breakfast, they set off, carrying a couple of rabbits for provision by the way. Looking round from the top of the highest hummock, they saw the great twisting cloud of sea-birds hovering over the distant wreckage, and the shrill clamour of their screaming came faintly to them on the still air. They had cleaned up what the sea had stranded on the spit and had had to go further afield. From this vantage point they could to some extent make out the lie of the island. It ran nearly west and east and the narrow sand-spit on which they had landed was the extreme western point. Where they stood, the land was about a quarter of a mile in width and it stretched away in front further than they could see, in vast stretches of sand with a line of hummocks all along the northern side. It seemed very narrow, just a long thin wedge of sand, with illimitable gray sea on each side, as far as their eyes could reach. Right ahead, and about a mile away, was a great sheet of water, whether lake or inlet they could not tell. The hummocks ran along its northern side, and a narrow strip of sand divided it from the sea on the south. "We'd best keep to the ridges," said Macro. "Yon spit on the other side may only end in the sea," so they tramped on along the firm beach on the seaward slope of the line of hummocks, and every now and again climbed up to see what was on the other side. When they found themselves abreast of the sheet of water they went down and found it salt and very shallow. It stretched away in front as far as they could see, but Macro thought he could see more sand hummocks at the far end. Every here and there, when they climbed the ridge to look over, they came on little basins like their own, comparatively green and populous with rabbits. But never a sign of human life or habitation, not a tree or a shrub, not an animal except the rabbits. "A God-forsaken hole," was the mate's comment, as they stood, after a couple of hours' trudging, looking out over the interminable ridges in front, and the great unruffled sheet of water below, and the gray slow-heaving sea beyond on both sides, and the gray sky enclosing all. "There's nought here and never has been. Let's go back and get to work." "That lake, or inlet, or whatever it is, seems to narrow over there. Suppose we see where it goes to," suggested Wulfrey. "Only back into sea, I reckon." However, they tramped on along the beach, and next time they looked over the ridge the land below had broadened out. The water had shrunk to a mere channel which ran, they saw, not into the sea but into a still larger lake beyond, unless it in turn should prove to be a long arm of the sea running all through the middle of the island. They could follow the low sand-spit which divided it from the sea on the south side, and the long line of hummocks on the north, till they faded out of sight in the distance. Right in front of them spread the largest valley they had yet come across, and the coast ridges ran down into the middle of it and ended in the highest hill they had seen, and between the hill and the lake lay a number of large ponds. "We must get up there," said Wulfrey. "No manner o' use," growled the mate, who found tramping through the sand very tiring, and was eager to get back and attack the wreckage for shelter and fire and food and rum. "Stop you here then, Macro, and I'll go on. If there's anything to see I'll wave my arms. You might skin those rabbits too. I'm beginning to feel empty again." He struck straight across the valley to the ponds, and was delighted to find them fresh and much better to the taste than their own little pool. Then he climbed the hill, which was not far short of a hundred feet in height. And then Macro, who had been watching him intermittently as he hacked at the rabbits, saw him wave his arms in so excited a fashion that he picked up the rabbits and ran, wondering what new thing he'd found now that set him dancing in that fashion. And when at last he panted heavily up the yielding side of the hill and saw, he gasped "Gosh!" with all the breath he had left, and sat down open-mouthed and stared as if he could not believe his eyes. Beyond the end of the valley, the great lake stretched away further than they could see, and in a deep bend on the north side of it lay two ships. "Schooners, b' Gosh!" jerked Macro, as soon as he could speak; and eyed them intently. "How in name of sin did they get there?" and his eye travelled quickly along the sand-spit that shut out the sea, in search of the break in it through which the schooners must have entered. But no break was visible. Still it might well be that this great inland lake joined the outer sea somewhere over there, beyond their range of sight, and that this was a harbour of refuge, though he had certainly never heard of it before. "We must find out about 'em," he said at last, and they set off at speed towards the ships to which his eyes seemed glued. "Not a sign of a man aboard either of 'em," he jerked one time, as he lurched up out of a rabbit-hole. "Nor ashore either." And to Wulfrey also there was something strange and uncanny in the look of them. The absence of any slightest sign of life anywhere about imparted to them something of a lifeless look also. And their masts were bare of sails, spars, or even cordage, just bare poles sticking up out of the hulls like blighted pine trees. The sea outside had a long slow heave in it, but the water of the lake was smooth as a pond, not a pulse in it, not a ripple on it, and the two little ships lay as motionless as toy boats on a looking-glass sea. Macro was evidently much exercised in his mind. He never took his eyes off the ships. So intent was he on them that he stumbled in and out of rabbit holes without noticing them, and the "Gosh!" that jerked out of him now and again was provoked entirely by the puzzle of the ships. So they came at last round the curve of the land and stood opposite the nearer of the two, which lay about a hundred yards out from the shore of bare sand, and neither on ship nor shore nor water had they discovered any sign of life. "Schooner a-hoy!" bellowed the mate through his funnelled hands. And again. "Schooner a-hoy!" But no sudden head bobbed up at the hail, and but that they were whole and afloat the ships looked as dead as those others out past the point. "Gosh, but it's odd!" and he looked quickly both ways along the shore and over his shoulders, as though he feared some odd thing might start up suddenly and take him unawares. "What's it mean?" "There's no one there. They're deserted." "Deserted? Man alive! Who'd desert ships afloat like that? What in ---- does it mean?" his native fears of the unnatural and inexplicable getting the better of him. "We'd better go and see," said Wulfrey. "Swim?" "I suppose so. I don't expect we can wade." The mate shook his head. He had evidently no liking for the job, keen as was his desire to get to the bottom of it. "Let's feed first anyway," he said, and produced the rabbits, which he had held on to in spite of his surprise and many stumblings. So they sat in the sand and ate raw rabbit, with their eyes on the ships all the time. "They're dead ships like all the rest," was the sum of Macro's conclusions. "But how they got there beats me flat." "They're afloat anyway and they'll be better to sleep in than the sandhills." "Ay--mebbe,--if so be's there's no dead men aboard--or ghosts." "There's no ghosts anyway. If there are any dead men we'll bury them decently and occupy their bunks." At which the mate gave a shiver of distaste and chewed on in silence. "Isn't it possible there's an opening to the sea over yonder?" asked Wulfrey, with an eastward jerk of the head. "Mebbe, but I don't think it. There's no seaweed here, and no move in the water, and no tide-mark. It's dead level. But what if there is?" "Why, then they might have got in that way, and then some storm blocked the opening and they couldn't get out." "Mebbe. We can find out by travelling along yon spit till we get to the end of it. I'd liefer do that than go aboard." "We'll sleep better on board than on the sand." "Man, ye don't know what ill things may be aboard yon ships! There's a wrong look about 'em," which was undeniable, but still not enough to commend the chill sand to Wulfrey as a resting-place when shelter and possibly bunks might be had on board. "It seems to me," he said, as they finished their meal, "that it doesn't matter much how they got there. We can perhaps find that out later. There they are, and if they're habitable we want to make use of them. I'm going to swim out to this nearest one and find out what's the matter." "If you go I go," grumbled the mate uncheerfully. "It's evident there's no one aboard or anywhere about, and it's absurd to sit here looking at them," said Wulf, and began to peel off his clothes, which had got almost dry with walking. "No good getting them wet again," he explained. "I've been all of a chill for the last five days. I'll fasten them on to my head." "We'll be coming back." "We might decide to stop there all night. Better take what's left of the meat." "Gosh!" with a perceptible shiver of distaste again. However, he peeled also, and by careful contrivance with belt and braces they bound their bundles on to their heads and stepped into the water. "Phew! It's cold,--colder than the sea," said Wulfrey through tight-set teeth, as they struck out. "'Tis that," and the mate's teeth chittered visibly, between the chill of the water and distaste of the adventure. "Temperature ought to be same ... if sea comes in," sputtered Wulfrey. "'Tisn't, all same. It's cauld as death." They ploughed along till they reached the nearer ship, and swam round it in search of entrance, and failing other means laid hold of the rusty anchor-chain, which peeled in ruddy flakes at their touch. By the time Wulf tumbled in over the bows he was streaked from head to foot with iron-mould, and presented so ghastly an appearance that Macro's jaw fell as he came up the side, and he looked half inclined to drop back into the water. "Man! You look awful. I tuk you for a ghost," he gasped in a whisper. "You're nearly as bad yourself, but I took the cream of it. Now let us see what's what." The mate's experienced eye showed him at once that the condition of the ship was not due to storm or accident. She had been deliberately stripped of everything that could be turned to account elsewhere. She was bare as a board,--not a rope nor a spar was left. The hatches were closed and looked as though they had not been touched for years. They came to the fore-hatch leading down to the fo'c's'le, and he hauled it up with some difficulty and looked suspiciously down into the darkness within. "Below there!" he cried, in a repressed hollow voice. But only the echoes answered him. They passed the main-hatch leading to the hold, and went along, past a grated skylight thick with green mould, to the covered gangway leading to the officers' quarters. The doors were closed and bolted with rusty bolts. There could not by any possibility be anyone below, not anyone alive, that is. Macro wasted no breath here, when they had managed to undo the bolts, but he visibly hesitated. Wulf stepped down into the cabin, and he followed. Just bare walls, nothing more. Table, stools, lamps, everything movable or unscrewable had been carried away. In the four small rooms adjacent there were just four empty bunks and not a thing besides. "Gosh, but it's queer!" whispered Macro. "Mebbe they're all lying dead in the hold." "We'll make sure," and they went up on deck again, and with some labour, for the wood had swelled and stuck, got up the main hatch and dropped down into the hold. But that was bare like the rest. The ship was as empty as a drum. "Not so much as a rat, b' Gosh!" said the mate, with recovered spirits, seeing no sign of dead men or ghosts. "What do you make of it?" asked Wulf. "She's been stripped bare, that's plain. But why, beats me." "Anyway, there's no objection to our stopping here now, I suppose. Bare bunks will be drier than the sand over there." "That's so.... And I'm thinking that if we can bring over some of the stuff from that big pile out yonder we can make ourselves mighty comfortable here." "We can start on that tomorrow. We've done enough for one day." "We'll make a raft, like old Robinson Crusoe, and bring the stuff right down to the spit yonder," said Macro, waxing quite cheerful at the prospect. "Then we'll make a smaller raft to bring it aboard here." "We'd better walk along that spit tomorrow and see if there's any opening to the sea." "We can do that, but I doubt there's not, else this water wouldn't be so cold, and there'd be some movement in it. It's all dead like everything else." They spent the rest of the daylight poking into every corner of the ship, and in the dark fo'c's'le Macro made a find of surpassing worth. He had rooted everywhere, with a natural enjoyment in the process, and come on nothing but bare boards. "But you never know," he said, and went on rooting. And in the blackest corner his foot struck something loose which slid away and eluded him. He went down on his hands and knees and groped till he found it, and then gave a triumphant shout which brought up Wulfrey in haste. It was a small round metal box such as was used for carrying flint and steel and tinder, well-worn and battered, but tightly closed, and the mate's fingers trembled with anxiety as he opened it with his knife. "Thanks be!" he breathed deeply, for there in the little battered box lay all the possibilities of fire,--warmth, cooked food, life--all complete. And--"Thank God!" said Wulfrey also. "That's the best find yet." "If it'll work it's worth its weight in Guinea gold. But it's old, old," and he poked the tinder doubtfully with his finger, "as old as the ship, and that's older than you or me, I'm thinking. It's dropped out of some old pocket and rolled out of sight. We do have the deil's own luck." "Providence!" said Wulfrey. "Can't we make a fire and roast some rabbit? I'm sick of raw meat." "Where'd we make it? Galley-stove's gone with all the rest, and galley too for that matter.... Wouldn't do to set the ship afire.... There's only one safe way. Soon as we've got a bit of a raft together we'll bring over sand enough to make a fire-bed in the hold. Then we can roast all the rabbits in the island." "What about the cover of the big hatchway there? Wouldn't that carry one of us and sand enough." "Might. And there's wood enough and to spare in the skin of her down below. But it'll be dark in an hour." "Come on. Let's get it overboard. I'll go. Can you rip up a board for a paddle?" The hatch-cover was slightly domed and had four-inch coamings all round, and when let upside down on to the water made a sufficiently effective raft for light freight. Macro dropped down into the hold and ripped up a board and jumped it into pieces, and Wulfrey lowered himself gingerly down on to his frail craft and set off for the shore, with roast rabbit in his face. "Ye'll have to look smart or ye'll be in the dark," Macro called after him, as he leaned over the side watching his clumsy progression. "Ay, ay! I'll shout if I get lost," and the mate went down to break up firewood and shred filmy shavings in default of sulphur sticks. Wulfrey, wafting slowly ashore, lighted on a colony of rabbits intent on supper, and was able to capture a couple in their panic rush for their holes. Then he hastily loaded his float with all the sand it could safely carry and set off again for the ship in great content of mind. The transfer of his cargo to the deck of the ship was a much more difficult and precarious job than getting it alongside. He tried throwing it up in handfuls, but that proved slow work and more than once came near to spilling him overboard. And finally, as the night was upon them, he took off his coat and sent up larger parcels in it; and so at last Macro cried enough, and having shown him how to wedge his float in between the rusty anchor-chain and the bows, so that the wind should not drift it away in the night, he helped him up over the side. It was an anxious moment when the first sparks shredded down into the ancient tinder. But they caught and glowed, and with tenderest coaxing lighted the mate's carefully-prepared matches, and these the chips, and these the faggots, and the mighty cheer and joy of fire were theirs. They slept that night in great comfort, replete with roasted meat, roofed from winds and dew, and grateful both, each in his own way, for the marvellous encouragement of this first day on the island. Though their beds were but bare boards, they had no fault to find with them, but slept like tops. And Macro's black head was so full of the wonderful possibilities of that vast pile of wastry out beyond the point, in conjunction with this amazing find of the ships, that there was no room left in it for any thought of ghosts or evil spirits. XIX Over their last night's fire they had made provision of roast meat for breakfast, and after it they paddled precariously across to the other schooner, a couple of hundred yards away, and explored it thoroughly. But it was in exactly the same condition as their own, so they closed all the hatches again and then, after a short discussion, decided to leave the solution of the puzzle of the ships for the present and devote the day to the salvage of any necessaries they could discover among the wreckage. They paddled across to the southern spit which divided the lake from the sea, and found it a bare hundred yards in width, and at its highest point not more than ten feet above high-water level. They walked briskly along the side of the narrow channel that joined the two lakes, on past the first one, and in a couple of hours reached the sandy point where they had landed two days before. Out above the piles of wreckage the gray cloud of sea-birds swung and whirled, and their shrill screamings rose and fell with the varied fortunes of their quest. "Screeching deevils!" was the mate's comment on them, and presently, "It'll be a long pull back with a log of a raft. It must be six or seven miles, I reckon." "Perhaps we'll strike a boat among the wreckage." "Ah--p'r'aps. We do have the deil's own luck." It was almost dead low water. The storm of the previous days seemed to have exhausted the elements for the time being. The sea was smooth, with no more movement than the long slow heave which curled, as it neared the shore, into great green and white combers of exquisite beauty, rushing up the beaches in a dapple of marbled foam, and back into the bosom of the next comer with a long-drawn sibilant hiss. There was a soft south-west wind and even a cheering touch of the sun, and as their work was like to be of the wettest, and dry clothes were a luxury, they left them above tide-level and went out stripped to the fight, their only weapon the mate's sailor's-knife in the belt which he buckled round his waist. But, in view of the screeching deevils already in possession, they forethoughtfully armed themselves with the weightiest clubs they could pick out of the raffle of the beach. For in that countless predatory host, although its components were but birds, there was menace passing words. It made them feel bare and vulnerable, and Macro cursed them heartily as he went. They reached the pile without any difficulty, and the mate's keen eye raked round for the likeliest stuff for a raft. It was no good acquiring cargo till they had a craft to carry it. There was no lack of timber, however, and cordage was to be had for the cutting, and with these the skilled hands of the seaman soon constructed a raft large enough for their utmost probable requirements. Then he turned with gusto to the more satisfying joys of plunder, and developed new and startling sides to his character. Wulf laughed, but found him surprising, as the cateran spirit of his forebears came uppermost with this tremendous opportunity. He climbed up and down and in and out of the high-piled wreckage like a hungry tiger, bashed in boxes and cases with a huge club of mahogany which had once adorned the cabin-staircase of a ship, and raked over their contents with the avidious claws of a wrecker of the evil coasts. Now and again strange ejaculations broke from him. More than once, in the wild glee of pillage and unexpected booty, he shouted snatches of weird runes and chanties which Wulf supposed were Gaelic. At times he stood and shook his fist at the screaming birds that swooped about him, and cursed them volubly. And once, Wulfrey, on the raft below, knitted his brows and watched him with doubtful perplexity as, in the disappointment of his hopes respecting one great case which had resisted his efforts and finally yielded nothing of consequence, he attacked another with shouts of fury and a Berserk madness that scattered chips and splinters far and wide. An incautious cormorant swooped by him. With a stroke he sent it spinning, a bruised and broken bundle of feathers, and it fell with a dull flop into the sea. The man seemed demented, drunk with a rage for plunder and the destruction of everything that stood between him and it. His great club whirled, and the blows flailed here and there without any apparent regard to direction. The lust of slaughter and demolishment burst from him in volcanic fire and fury. For the moment he had reverted to his elemental type. To the cooler head below he looked dangerous. Wulfrey's amused amazement gave place to doubt and a touch of anxiety. He could only hope that his companion was not often subject to fits such as this. But the Berserk madness was not wholly without method, and presently plunder of all kinds came raining down on the raft. Heralded by a sharp "Below there!" came a roll of linen and one of woollen cloth, a bale of blankets, more rolls,--this time of silk and satin and velvet, all more or less damaged by the sea, though they were the pick and cream of his salvaging, and all no doubt dryable. "Good heavens! What does he want with these?" thought Wulfrey, but piled them up obediently. Then, following the unmistakable course of the marauder up above, and clawing the raft along to keep in touch with him, down came on his head a bulging little sack, which felt like beans but proved to be coffee, and presently, after a pause, necessitated by packing arrangements up above, a series of soft bundles made up in crimson silk and tied with slimy rope. Then, after another pause punctuated by shouts and crashes, down came a rattling heap of rusty cooking utensils all slung together with more slimy rope, a rusty axe, four broken oars. Till at last the raft became so crowded that there was barely standing room left on it. "Steady, above there! We're full up. I can't take another pound, and I doubt if we can get this all home safely." "Just this, man!" and Macro appeared up above with a small keg in his arms, and let himself and it carefully down on to the raft, with every appearance of a return to sanity. "Man!" he said, with the afterglow of it all still in his face. "That was fine. We'll come again." "We've got to get all these things home first." "Easy that. This wind'll carry us fine," and he set to work with a couple of the broken oars and a blanket, and contrived a sail of sorts. Then, taking another oar and thrusting one into Wulfrey's hands, he propelled the clumsy raft along the side of the wreckage till it got clear, and the wind caught their sail and wafted them slowly towards the island. "A grand grand place, yon!" he broke out again. "There's stuff enough there to load a hundred ships.... Gosh, I've forgotten the pork!" and he uprooted the sail and began paddling back to the wreckage. "I stove in the head of a barrel and was smelling at it when I spied the wee keg." "Was it eatable?" "I've eaten worse." "Couldn't we get it next trip?" "Man, my stomach's been crying for it ever since I set eyes on it. 'Sides, those deevils of birds will finish it in no time. See them! They're at it now. Och, ye greedy deevils!" He clambered up the pile with his oar and laid about him lustily, The birds rose up from the meat like a dense cloud of flies, and screamed and raved at him, and swooped at him with vicious eyes and beaks and claws, so that in a moment he became the centre of a writhing, fluttering, shrieking mass which threatened to annihilate him completely. He flailed blindly at them with his oar, smashing them by dozens. But they were too many for him. He shouted for help, and when Wulfrey scrambled up he found him in very sore case, fighting blindly and streaming with blood. "Come away, man!" shouted Wulfrey, and thrashed away at the nightmare of whirling birds. "Come away before they end us!" and in a moment he found himself the centre of a similar shrieking mass, dazed and blinded with their numbers and their fury. The terrified glimpse he got of their cold glittering eyes and gnashing beaks, and the compressed venom of their overwhelming assault, were too much for him. It was like fighting single-handed against all the fiends out of the pit. He hurled his oar overboard, put up his arms to protect his eyes, and staggered to the edge of the pile, acutely conscious of jags and pecks and rips innumerable on his bare arms and shoulders. As he flung himself down into the water and dived under, a plunge alongside told him that Macro had done the same. A raucous swarm of birds followed them, but on their disappearance fluttered off to more visible chances above. "Man! but that was awful!" gasped the mate hoarsely. "They nigh ate me alive." "Let's get aboard or they'll be at us again. There's my oar," and he swam quietly to it and they climbed back on to the raft. "An' never ae piece o' pork," lamented Macro. "The poaching deevils!" "Be thankful you're alive, man! It was a close touch that." "'Twas that. I'm bit all over. I'd like to end 'em all with one crack." Fortunately the birds were too busy quarrelling up above to give them more than cursory attention. A few came whirling and swooping after them with greedy eyes and ravening beaks. But it was only in their multitudes that they were formidable and they soon gave up a chase that offered no easy prey. The men, shaken and trembling, clawed along the pile till they caught the wind again, when Macro readjusted his masts and sail, and they drifted slowly back towards the island. "Ye deevils! Ye scratching, scrawming, skelloching deevils!" breathed Macro deeply, every now and again, and shook his fist at the twisting column of birds behind. "I wish ye had ae neck and me ma hond on it." Their weighty progress was of the slowest. When they drew alongside the yellow spit Macro plunged overboard and waded ashore for their clothes, and they drifted on along the low southern beach. But it was well after mid-day before they came abreast of the stark little ships which stood to them for home. Then they made busy traffic transporting their salvage to the shore and carrying it across the bank to the edge of the lake. And when that was all done Macro unlashed the raft and they carried it over piece by piece, and roughly put it together there and loaded up again. "It'll all come in for firing," said the mate. "We can't go on burning our own inside all the time." It was no easy work propelling their rough craft with broken oars. Moreover Macro insisted on taking the hatch-cover in tow. But the spirit of accomplishment was upon them and the weight they dragged was a comforting one. All the way, as they joggled slowly along, the mate never ceased enlarging on the wonders of the wreckage, nor forgot his one disappointment, which evoked resentful curses each time he thought of it. "Man, but we're doing fine! A roof we've got, and fire, and things to eat.--There's flour in yon bundles,--just the cores of half a dozen casks. And yon bag's coffee, but we'll need to roast it and grind it. And the wee keg's rum, unless I've mistook it. An' there's enough stuff out yonder to last us for a thousand years. But, blankety-blank-blank-blank!--my stomach's crying after yon pork that them screeching deevils took out of our mouths, as you might say. Blankety-blank-blank 'em all--every red-eyed son o' the pit among 'em! But we'll try again, and next time I'll not broach the barr'l an' they'll know noth'n about it." "Maybe they'll attack us all the same. It was the most horrible situation I was ever in. One felt so utterly helpless." "Ay, blank 'em! There was no end to 'em.... They'd have ate me alive if you hadn't come and helped me tumble overboard. Blank 'em! Blank 'em! Blank 'em!" "What on earth are all these things for?" asked Wulfrey one time, kicking a roll of crimson silk with his heel. "Blankets to sleep on,--better than boards. The others for their gay gaudery,--the bonny reid and blue o' them. They mek me feel good and warm just to look at 'em. I just couldna leave them. Man, they're grand!" They hoisted all their stuff on board, and found themselves hungry and thirsty with the heavy day's work. There were but the scantiest remnants of their breakfast left, and Macro undertook to chop wood and make a fire, scour some of the rusty cooking-utensils, and make flour-and-water cakes as soon as he had some water, if Wulfrey would go across for it and some fresh meat. So he set off on the hatch-cover with a good-sized kettle, and was back inside an hour with water from the ponds by the hill and a couple of young rabbits, and found that the mate had not been idle. He had transferred a sufficiency of sand to the cabin to make a hearth at the foot of the steps, and had broken up wood enough to last for a week. He had spread out all the blankets, scoured most of the rust off a frying-pan and a small kettle and a couple of tin pannikins, and had opened the keg and sampled its contents and found it French cognac of excellent quality. In the best of spirits he skinned the rabbits and set them roasting, with an incidental commination of thae screeching deevils that had robbed them of the pork which would have been such a welcome accompaniment. Then he compounded cakes of flour and water and fried them deftly, and set a kettle to boil wherewith to make hot grog, and boastfully promised coffee for the morrow when he had time to roast and grind it. They both ate ravenously, and found great content in the taste of hot food and drink once more, after all these days of clammy starvation, and then they slept. And Wulfrey dreamed horribly all night of fighting helplessly with legions of screeching birds, and several times fought himself awake, and each time found Macro actively engaged in the same unprofitable business. XX In spite of his torn shoulders and unrestful night, Macro was for setting off again first thing next morning for more plunder. That huge pile of wastry drew him like a magnet. He hungered and thirsted to be at it again. But Wulfrey flatly refused. They had enough to go on with, and he claimed at least a day to recover from the effects of the last excursion. And as Macro declined to tackle the job single-handed he was fain to agree, though with none too good a grace. "This weather mayn't last. We'd best get all we can while we can," he urged. "The stuff will be there tomorrow. Most of it's been there for years, you said." "Ay, but man, there's mebbe things out of the 'Grassadoo,' that'll be spoiling for want of finding." "They'll not spoil much more in one day. You're more used to this kind of work than I am, you see. I must have a rest." Macro consigned rest to the bottomless pit, but after relieving his feelings in that way, consented at last to an easy-going exploration of the southern spit, to see if their lake opened into the sea, though he expressed himself satisfied, from his observations, that it did not. First, however, out of the larger raft he constructed a smaller one, which bore them better than the hatch-cover and was more manageable, and the hatch they hauled on board again and fitted into its place, so as to keep the ship dry in case of bad weather. Then they paddled across to the spit and set off along it, both scrutinising the lie of the land carefully. For a good hour they trudged through heavy sand, the sea swirling with long soft hisses up the yellow beach on their right hand, and on their left the placid water of the lake without a pulse in it. The dividing bank was nowhere in all its length more than a hundred yards wide, nor more than ten feet high at its crown. More than once Macro stood and studied it in places, and when in time they came to long ridges of hummocks which stretched as far in front as they could see, he stood again, looking back from the top of the first they climbed, and said, "I'm thinking there's no opening this end. Mebbe it was on the level there. But this stuff shifts so in a gale you never know where you are." Presently they came on the shallow rounded end of the lake, with higher sandhills beyond it, which ran along both sides of the island further than they could see. In between lay a vast unbroken stretch of level sand, and when they climbed to the top of the highest hill, they saw this sandy desert dwindle in the far distance to a point, with the sea on each side of it, like the one at the other end of the island. "There's not a sign of anybody else," said Wulfrey. "If there'd been anyone they'd bin living on them ships. We've got it all to ourselves, that's certain. And what's more, we'll have it all to ourselves till Kingdom come. No one else'll ever come, 'cept dead men." "Those two ships came." "Twenty, thirty years ago,--mebbe more. Must have bin an opening then and it's got silted up. They couldn't have got washed over the spit." There were several more large fresh-water ponds close to these larger hills, and rabbits everywhere. They secured a couple and tramped back the way they had come. Macro seemed to accept the whole situation and outlook with the utmost equanimity. They had very much more than they had had any right to expect; more was always to be had for the fetching from that wonderful pile out yonder; what that pile might yield in the way of richer plunder remained to be seen, and he was the man to see to it. But Wulfrey had been cherishing a hope that the great lake would prove an inlet from the sea, a harbour of refuge into which other ships might be expected to run at times. And the fact that it was not, that no relief was to be looked for in that direction and that this desolate sandbank, bristling with wrecks, must necessarily be shunned by all who knew of it, weighed more and more heavily on him as he thought about it. They were alive, where all their shipmates had perished. They were provided for beyond their utmost expectation. For all that he was most deeply grateful. But the prospect of passing the rest of his life on this bare bank troubled him profoundly and reduced him to silence and the lowest of spirits. XXI They woke next morning into a dense white fog, so thick that they could not see across the deck. Macro, intent on plunder, hailed it as an excellent screen from possible attack by the other pillagers of the wreck-pile, and though Wulfrey had his doubts, he would not counter him again. His knowledge of human nature suggested to him the almost impossibility of two men living alone, in intimacy so close and exclusive, and with so little outlet for their thoughts and energies, without coming to loggerheads at times. He determined that, so far as in him lay, the provocation thereto should not come from him. So far he had not only had nothing to complain of in his companion's presence, but, on the contrary, had found himself distinctly the gainer by it in every material way. But the strange wild outbursts, to which he had given vent when they were at the wreckage before, warned him of hidden fires below, and suggested the advisability of non-provocation of the under-man, if it were possible to avoid it. So they paddled across to the spit, which they could not well miss, and set off on foot for the point, steering by the sullen lap and hiss of the waves as they stole softly up out of the fog on their left hand. There was a clamminess in the air which commended the idea of clothes to them while they worked on the pile. So they made their things into tight bundles, and carried them above their heads as they waded out neck-deep to their store-house. The shrill cries of the birds came dull and thin through the fog, more ghostly than ever from their invisibility. Now and again an inquisitive straggler fluttered down at them out of the close white curtain, and whirled back into it with a terrified squawk when it found they were alive. They climbed the pile cautiously, but the birds seemed mostly at a distance; and when they had flung down sufficient timber Macro proceeded to construct another raft, while Wulfrey poked about up above on his own account. And as he climbed about among the chaotic mass of barrels, boxes, cases, bales, he came to understand the wild craving to get at them, to bash them open and learn what they contained, which had possessed the mate that other day. There might be anything hidden there--goods of all kinds for the easement of their present situation. There might even be treasure of gold and jewels. It was impossible to say what there might not be. And though gold and jewels were absolutely useless to them, placed as they were, and with no prospect, according to Macro, of rescue or relief, the possibility of such things lying hidden in untold quantity all about him stirred him strangely. He recognised feelings so abnormal to himself with no little surprise. He felt as a penniless small boy might feel if he were given the freedom of a great shop full of boxed-up toys and told to help himself. He wanted to smash open very closed case he came to, to see what was inside it. The water lapped and clunked dismally in the hollows below, and at times he had to climb almost down to it, and then up the further side, to get across faults in the pile. In one such black gully, on what was usually the leeward side of the pile, he had stepped cautiously from ledge to ledge, and laid hold of a projecting spar and was hauling himself up the other side, when he came face up against a dark little cranny between two great cases. And in the niche sat the skeleton of a man, all huddled up and jammed together, but grinning at him in so ferociously jovial a manner, as though he had been expecting him and was rejoiced at the sight of him, that Wulfrey came near to loosing his hold and falling into the water. He scrambled hastily past, and saw grinning faces in every dark corner for the rest of the day, and some of them were fact and some were only fancy. For the tumbled pile of wreckage was like a huge trap for the catching of anything the sweeping gales might bring it. He heard Macro's voice, dulled by the mist, calling to him, and he answered but knew not which way to go to get to him. It was only by constant shouting and long and precarious scrambling that they came together again. "We'd best keep close in this fog," said the mate, "or one of us'll be stopping the night here. Found anything?" "A dead man----" "Any of ours?" "No, he was only bones." "It's full of 'em. They're no canny, but they'll not harm us. Where'll we begin?" "One place is as good as another. Here, I should say, and quietly, or those fiends of birds will be at us again." "Bear a hand with this, then," laying hold of a newly-stranded barrel. "That's pork out of the 'Grassadoo,' so it'll be all right," and heaving and hauling, they managed to get the barrel down on to the raft. As they poked about the pile in the mist, it was evident they had struck a spot where a good portion of the contents of the 'Grace-à-Dieu' had lodged. Macro, having superintended the loading, recognised many of the marks and in some instances could recall their contents. "Women's fallals," he said, with a scornful crack at one large case. "If they'd been men's, now, they'd have come in handy.... Boots and shoes, if I remember rightly,"--nodding at another case. "We'll soon see," and with a chunk of wood he stove in one side and hauled out a handful of its contents.--"Women's troke again! Mebbe we'll find some men's stuff in time.... I've seen yon chest before.... Old Will Taggart's, I think," and he stove it open, and went down on his knees and raked over the contents. "Seaman's slops, not much account.... A new pipe and a tin of tobacco! Thanks be! We'll take that ... and another flint and steel. Always useful! ... Clothes not much good, but we might be glad of 'em later on.... Yon's a box of tea and it'll be lead-lined inside. Should be more about. We had two hunderd aboard.... Glory! yon barrels are hard-tack. These ones are flour. If we work hard and get 'em ashore before the weather breaks again we'll live in clover.... What's this now? ... 'Duke of Kent'"--and he hauled up a stout wooden box by one handle out of a raffle of cordage and ragged sail-cloth. "Name of a ship--or name of a man? That's no a ship's box." A deft blow under the lock and the box lay open, displaying a number of uniforms, richly decorated with gold braid and lacing, all more or less damaged by water, but otherwise in good condition. "Duds enough to keep us going for a couple of years if so be as they fit," said the mate exuberantly, and Wulfrey laughed out at the idea of their peacocking about their sandbank rigged out in court costumes. "He was Governor-General of Canada," he said. "I remember hearing he lost his baggage on the journey." "We'll be Governor-Generals here when we're needing a change.... Nothing but his clothes," as he ran his hands all over the box. "Mebbe we'll find more of 'em lying about. Man! what a place it is! It'd take a man a lifetime to work through all the stuff there is here." They worked hard and carried home a huge load, but as there was no wind they had to paddle all the way, and even Macro acknowledged to being a bit tired before they got all their plunder across the spit and on board, the transit across the lake on the smaller raft necessitating three separate journeys. He was in the highest of spirits however, and keen to be back at the pile next day. As for Wulfrey, hardening though he was with all these unusual labours, he found himself almost too weary to eat. The fog lay on them like a white pall for six days. Macro predicted that it would go in a storm, and was urgent on salvaging all they could before it came. So, day after day, they went out to the pile, and came back loaded at night till they had stuff enough in their hold to keep them in comfort for many months to come. They had meat and drink, clothes and firing, and comfortable quarters. What more could any man want, unless it were to get away from it all? And that, the mate asserted, time after time, was the unlikeliest thing that could happen. "We're here till Kingdom come," was the burden of his tune. "So we may as well be comfortable. And we've had the deil's own luck. We might ha' been living on rabbits and roots, and sleeping on the sand. Man! be thankful at being tired to such good purpose!" "I'm thankful enough and tired enough, and we've got stuff enough for a year. I'm going to take a rest." "I'm for the pile again tomorrow. If you won't come I'll e'en make shift alone," and Wulfrey let him go alone. XXII The smothering white fog lay thick on them for six days and then disappeared in the night. The morning broke dull and heavy, with a gusty wind from the south-west, and they could hear the waves breaking on the spit with a sound like the low growl of a menacing beast. "I'm off to the pile," said the mate. "Better take a day off. You've been working too hard." "Not me. I cannot sit here while all yon stuff's crying aloud to be picked up." "Well, I'll be on the look-out, and come across to give you a hand from the spit when you get there." "I'll lash you up a bit float that'll bring you over, before I go. And you'll mebbe have some food ready against I get back. It's hungry work out there." "I'll be ready for you. If you load up too heavily you'll not get back at all." "I'll see to that. Wind's fair, it'll bring me home all right." So Wulfrey had the day to himself, and had time, which the labours of the previous days had not permitted him, to consider the situation in all its aspects. So far they had been marvellously favoured, without doubt. Ten days ago they were swinging up and down on the galley-roof inside the cage of the dead ship's ribs, possessed of nothing but their bare lives, and those but doubtfully. And here they were, provided for in every respect, with comforts which shipwrecked men had no right to expect, and with unlimited further stores to draw upon. They could live without fear.... But what a life, after all. Eating, drinking, sleeping,--raking over the wreckage for possible plunder that was useless to them,--rambling among the rabbits and the sandhills. Quarrelling in time, maybe. Perhaps it was a good thing there was a ship for each of them. He was not himself of a quarrelsome disposition. The mate, he thought, might be difficult to put up with if he took a crooked turn. But it would be the height of folly for two men, bound together by ill-fortune, and to this bare bank for all time, to fall out. Every circumspection within his power he resolved to exercise, and so far, indeed, his companion had given him no cause to mistrust or doubt him. But he had a somewhat discomforting feeling that he knew very little of the real man that lay beneath that saturnine exterior, that there might be elemental depths there which would surprise him if they came to be revealed. This Macro that he knew was to him something in the nature of a sleeping volcano, outwardly quiet but full of hidden fires. He could imagine no likely grounds for dispute between them. Each worked for the common good, and so far they had shared all things equally and without question. But how would it be as the weeks dragged into months, and the months into years? So far the rifling of the wreckage had afforded the mate all the outlet he needed for his activities. In ministering to the cravings of the riever spirit that was strong in him it had also supplied their wants in overwhelming abundance. The longer it kept him busy the better, and if it yielded him plunder of value he was entirely welcome to it. Wulfrey could not imagine his discovering anything out there which could by any possibility lead to any serious difference between them. And yet, in spite of all that, from little glimpses he had caught at times of the strange wild, hidden nature of the man, he was not without doubts as to his absolute congeniality as a sole companion for the rest of his days. In short he had a vague feeling that, if by any chance they came to loggerheads, Macro might prove an extremely unpleasant person to be shut up with, within bounds so limited as this great bank of sand. He recognised such feelings, however, as unnecessarily morbid, and ascribed them to the general murkiness of the outlook and over-weariness from the exertions of the last few days. So he tumbled overboard on to the new raft and paddled to the nearer shore, and set off for a brisk walk over the sandhills and along the beach, in search of a more hopeful frame of mind. Why could they not build a boat? Macro said the coast of Nova Scotia was but a hundred miles or so away. A hundred miles was no great affair, and there was wood among that pile enough to build a thousand boats. So far, indeed, they had not come upon any tools except the rusty axe, for tool-chests probably sank at once on the outer banks where the ships went to pieces. Still, he would suggest it to Macro. It might prove a further outlet for his energies. If he should by chance find plunder of value out there he might, when he was satiated, favour the idea of an attempt at escape. In fact, plunder without any attempt to utilise it would be absurd. The opportunity of making his own position clear, and thereby obviating any cause for dispute, occurred that same day. When, in the afternoon, he saw the mate coming slowly along before the wind, he paddled over to the spit to meet him and found him in great spirits. "Man! it's been a great day, and if ye'd been there ye'd have had your chance. I lit on some graand things. Wait while I show you----" "Let's get 'em all aboard first. They'll keep, and I'll be bound you're tired and hungry." "Hungert as a wolf, but finding siccan things takes the tired out o' one," and his black eyes sparkled over his finds, and he must go on telling about them as they worked. "It was down under where we found yon Duke o' Kent box. I spied another, and then more, mebbe there's, more yet down below." "More fancy coats?" "Ah!--and some with jewelled stars on 'em and swords with fancy hilts. I'll show you when we get aboard." "You didn't come across any tools, I suppose?" "Tools? No. What would we want tools for?" "I was wondering if it might not be possible to build some kind of a boat and get across to Nova Scotia." "We're safer here than trying that, I'm thinking." "When you've got all there is to be got out there you'll want to get home and enjoy it----" "Man! It'd take a hunderd years to go through it all. It's bin piling up there since ever this bank silted up." "Oh well, we don't want to stop here a hundred years, that's certain. What's the good of it all if you can't make any use of it?" "It's graand to handle anyway." And when they had eaten, he opened some of his bundles and displayed his treasures,--a jewelled 'George,' roughly cut from some Garter-knight's court-coat, several smaller decorations, all more or less ornamented with precious stones, three dress-swords with mountings, in ivory and gold, a small wooden box lined with sodden blue velvet in which were half a dozen rings, some of which from the size of the stones and the massiveness of their setting, seemed to Wulfrey of considerable value. "They're worth something, all those," said Macro, as he handled them with loving exultation. "Ay, if you could get them home and turn them into money. I don't see what use they're going to be to you here," said Wulfrey, fiddling his own string again. "They're fine to have anyway." "I'd sooner have another pipe and some more tobacco than the whole of them." "Ye can have that too," and he rooted in another bundle and produced both. "They're oot a dead man's chest and they're wet. But he's no use for 'em and they'll dry. So there ye are. Ye dinnot care for jewels?" and he looked at Wulfrey wonderingly. "As to that, I don't say I wouldn't pick them up if I came across them, but I've no hankering for them." "Ye've plenty money of your own, mebbe." "As much as I need--if ever I get ashore." "Ah! It meks a difference, ye see. I never had any to speak of, and these bonny sparklers pluck at the heart o' me." "You're welcome to all you can get, as far as I'm concerned----" "Ay, man, they're mine, for I found 'em." "But they're no use to you unless we can get away from here. Get ashore and you can turn them to account. Now why couldn't we build some kind of a boat and get across to Nova Scotia? There's wood enough and to spare out yonder----" "Ay, there's wood, but ef we had the tools 'twould still be no easy matter. An' then ye've got to reckon wi' the weather. 'Twould be a bad move to spend our time building a boat only to go to the bottom in her with all the gear we'd gathered. We're safe here, anyway. Mebbe some day a boat'll come ashore not so broke but we can patch her up.... How'd ye like to be afloat in a home-made boat a night like this?" For while they sat, eating and talking, the day had darkened, and now and again there came a menacing whuffle down the open hatch, and the little ship was filled with a tremulous humming as the rising wind played on their bare masts, and the growl of the spit had deepened into a long hoarse roar. "It'll be a bitter bad night I'm thinking. I saw it coming away out yonder. Mebbe it'll add some to our pile of stuff. Mebbe it'll bring us a boat." "We will not hope for either," said Wulfrey soberly, "for that means more deaths out yonder----" A long shrill scream outside sent a creepy chill down his spine for a moment. He glanced apprehensively across at Macro in the flickering light of the fire, and saw his face livid, his eyes like great black wells, his jaw dropped. "The spirits o' the dead!" jerked the mate. "There's a hantle o' them out there.... They're mebbe after me for these things...." and he rocked himself to and fro, where he sat on the floor, and muttered strange words,--"An ainm au Athar, 's an Mhic, 's an Spioraid Naoimh,"--in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. The weird shrieking waxed louder and shriller. Wulfrey got up and climbed the steps, and found the stormy twilight gray with that vast cloud of birds, all fleeing blindly before the gale and each one screaming its loudest. It was a fearsome, blood-curdling clamour, an ear-splitting pandemonium, a whirling Sabbat, as if all the demons of the pit had broken loose and clothed themselves in wings and shrieks and deadly fear. "It's only those damnable birds," he bent and shouted gruffly down to Macro, vexed with himself at his own momentary fright. But the mate was not for accepting any such simple explanation as that. "Man!" he said hoarsely. "Birds ye may think 'em, but I know better. It is spirits they are,--spirits of all the dead that ever died in this dread place,--a great multitude--their bones are white out there, but the spirits of them cannot rest. A Mhoire ghradhach! 'Twas under the Dark Star we were born, and here we'll die and leave our bones to whiten in the sand, and the spirits of us will go screeching and scrauchling wi' the rest. Come away, man, and shut the doors tight or they'll be in on us!" Wulfrey had never seen anything like it. Those myriads of fluttering wings looked as though the whole gray sky had come tumbling down in fragments. It was like a snowstorm on a gigantic scale, every whirling flake a bundle of wildly screaming feathers. He stood watching for a time and listening to the growing thunder of the rollers on the spit. He imagined their crashing in white foam-fury among the stark ribs of the dead ships out there on the banks. He shivered as he recalled the chill horrors of their own undoing and deliverance. It was wonderful beyond words, with that in his mind, to be standing there, safe and warm, and well provided, and his heart was full of gratitude. "God help any who are out there this night!" he said to himself, and closed the doors on the storm-fiends, and squatted on the floor over against the mate, who sat rocking slowly to and fro in great discomfort and muttered Gaelic seuns as a protection against the unholy things that wandered outside. All night long their little ship was filled with the hum of the shuddering masts, broken now and again with the creaking and jerking of their rusty cable. And whenever Wulfrey, warm in his bunk with many blankets, woke up for a moment, he heard the deep thunder of the waves on the spit, and the howl of the wind, outside, and the thrashing of the rain on deck; and he thanked God for warmth and shelter, and lay listening for a moment, and then rolled over and went to sleep again. The storm lasted three full days, during which they never once left the ship. They had all they needed, and fresh water was obtainable in any quantity by slinging an empty keg outside one of the scupper-holes through which the rain drained off the deck. Macro's gloomy humour lasted, off and on, as long as the storm. The birds had mostly hidden themselves in sheltered nooks among the sandhills. But every now and again the evil in them, or maybe it was hunger, would stir them up and set them whirling and shrieking round the ship, and sometimes lighting on it in prodigious numbers, and the mate would curse them long and deep and fall once more to his spells and invocations. The fury of the storm did not trouble him, but the screaming of the birds seemed to touch the superstitious spot in his nature and set all his nerves jangling. It was during one of the lull times that he astonished Wulfrey by hauling out his rolls of silks and velvets, and with an elemental, almost barbaric, delight in their rich colourings, he cut them into long strips, which he fixed neatly to the walls of the cabin by means of wooden pegs. The gorgeous results afforded him the greatest satisfaction, which nothing but the wailing of the birds could damp. Whenever their shrill clamour broke out the darkness fell on him again. He hurled uncouth curses at them and no arguments availed against his humour. To Wulfrey, on the other hand, the birds and their dismal shriekings were but an incident, the fury of the storm a wonder and a revelation. All through that former time of stress, which had ended in their undoing, his powers of observation and appreciation had been dulled by his fears of disaster. Then, the howl of the gale and the onslaught of the seas had been like hungry deaths close at his heels. But here, in the perfect security of the land-locked lake, he was free to watch and to wonder. At times, indeed, it seemed to him that the terrible force of the wind might lift them bodily, ship and all, and hurl them into the turmoil beyond. Then he remembered that many such storms must have swept the island and still the ships were there. The waves that broke on the spit seemed to him higher than tall houses, and the weight of them, as they curled and crashed on the sand, made the whole island tremble, he was certain. The uproar was deafening, and at times great lashes of white spray came hurtling over into the lake, and scourging it into sizable waves of its own. When Wulfrey woke on the fourth morning he was conscious of a change, and running up on deck he found the sun shining in a pale-blue, storm-washed sky, and nothing left of the gale but the great green waves breaking sullenly on the beach beyond the spit. He stripped and plunged overboard, and climbed up again full of the joy of life and physical fitness. XXIII The days crept into weeks, the weeks into months, with nothing to break the monotony of their life but visits to the wreckage, an occasional skirmish with the birds, rabbit-hunts, rude attempts at fishing, which met with so little success from lack of anything approaching proper material that they gave it up in disgust, and rambles among the sandhills. They got along companionably enough; the mate's only complaint,--and that not untinged with satisfaction, and obviously prompted more by a desire for his help than from any wish to halve his spoils--that Wulfrey showed so poor a spirit in the matter of plunder, and so shamefully neglected the opportunities of a lifetime. For himself, if he could have found safe lodging out there, he would have lived on the wreck-pile, to save the time and trouble of going to and fro. The riever spirit of his forefathers was kept at boiling-point by the possibilities of fortune which lurked there. The search in itself at once satisfied and stimulated the natural craving for booty which rioted in his Highland-Spanish blood, and he never tired of it. He came back laden every time with things for the common good, and rarer pickings for his private hoard, over which he exulted like a chieftain returned from a successful foray. Wulfrey was on the whole not ungrateful to the pile for affording him such distraction. He discussed the latest additions to his treasure-trove with him, as they sat by the fire of a night, and speculated with him on their probable origin and value, and the higher he assessed this the more the mate's black eyes glowed. He would sit watching Wulfrey as he turned the latest find over and over, and weighed it in his hand, and polished a bit of it to get at its basic metal, and mused on its shape and endeavoured to arrive at its history. And at such times there was in the sombre black eyes something of the look of an uncertain-tempered dog whose lawful bone is in jeopardy. Once or twice, Wulfrey, glancing up as he passed an opinion, caught that curious suspicious look bent on him, and was amused and annoyed at it, and also somewhat discomfited. Did the man think he coveted his useless little gauds?--useless in their present extremity, though some of them doubtless valuable enough if they could be sold. Why, he esteemed a dryable twist of tobacco infinitely more highly than any silver candlestick or shapely silver cup that the other could fish up from the depths. It seemed to him just as well that the plunder-fever had attacked only one of them, for he doubted if his companion would willingly have shared with another. For the fever grew with his finds. Once they came within an ace of a quarrel, and though it blew over, the seeds remained. Where the mate hid his spoil, Wulfrey neither knew nor cared nor ever troubled his head about. He would no more have occupied his thoughts with it than he would have taken more than his proper share of the food or tobacco. But increase breeds suspicion, and suspicion clouds the outlook. Among other things, Macro one day brought home a small crucifix and some strings of beads, which he believed to be of gold, while Wulfrey, from their hardness to the touch of the knife, pronounced them only brass. They were all curiously carved or cast, however, and, whatever the metal of which they were made, he expressed his admiration of the workmanship. A night or two later, to his amazement, Macro came out of his own cabin more black-a-vised than he had ever seen him, and asked abruptly, "Where's that cross?" "What cross?" "You know what cross. Yon gold cross I showed you two nights ago. Where is it?" and he lowered at Wulfrey like a full-charged thunder-cloud. "I know nothing of your cross, man. I suppose you put it with the rest of your things." "I did that, and it's gone. Where is it?" "Don't speak to me like that, Macro. I won't have it. I know nothing about your cross or any of your plunder. I've told you before, it is nothing to me. If I wanted it I'd go and get it for myself." "It was there with the rest and it's no there now. And----" "---- ---- ----!" cried Wulfrey, springing up ablaze with indignation. "Do you dare to think I would touch your dirty pilferings?" and it looked as though the next instant would find them at grips. But the mate had broken out in the sudden discovery of his loss. Wulf stood full as tall as himself. He looked very fit and capable, and looked, moreover, as the mate's common sense told him, as soon as it got the chance, the last person in the world to tamper with another man's goods--even though he might be the only one circumstantially able to have done so. "It's gone anyway," he growled. "But it's no good fighting about it." "That's not enough. Your greed for gain has blinded you. Till you come to your senses I've nothing more to do with you," and for two days not a word passed between them. Each prepared his own food as and when he chose, and ate it apart from the other. The mate hung about as though loth to leave Wulfrey in sole charge at home, and the atmosphere of the little cabin was murky and charged with lightning. On the third day Wulfrey ostentatiously set off for the wreck-pile by himself. He was running out of tobacco and would not have accepted any from the mate if it had been offered. He waded out, made a rough raft on Macro's lines, and smashed open such seamen's chests as he could discover, for it was always in them that they found tobacco. He got several small lots, and a couple of new pipes, and a flint and steel, charged his raft with a keg of rum and a case of hard-tack, and managed to get it all back to the spit and to the ship single-handed. As he came up the side, the mate met him, with the missing crucifix in his hand. "The little deevil of a thing," he said, with quite unconscious incongruity, "had slipped down a crack, back o' the locker, and I were wrong to think ye could have taken it." "Well, don't play the fool again," said Wulfrey shortly. "If your greed for other folk's goods hadn't blinded you, you would understand that a gentleman does not stoop to stealing." "I've seen some I wouldn't trust further'n I could see 'em, and then only if their hands were up over their heads. But ye're not that kind, an' I was wrong. So there 'tis, an' no more to be said. What have ye found?" "Pipes and tobacco. That is all I went for." After his two days of enforced silence Macro was inclined to expand, but found his advances coldly received. Wulfrey's pride was in arms and the insult rankled. By degrees, however, the storm-cloud drifted by, and matters between them became again much as they had been, with somewhat of added knowledge, on each side, of the character of the other. The mate had learned that the Doctor, quiet as he might appear, was not a man to suffer injustice or to be meddled with. And Wulfrey had got a further warning of the possibilities of trouble should he and the mate come to serious differences. It seemed absurd that two men, stranded, perhaps for life, on this bare sandbank, should be unable to live together in amity. Yet, his experience of men told him that it was just such enforced close intimacy--the constant rubbing together of very divergent natures, with nothing in common between them but the necessities entailed by their common misfortune--that might, nay almost certainly must, come to explosion at times, unless they both set themselves sedulously to the keeping of the peace. If any actual rupture took place between them, he foresaw that the mate might develop phases of character which would be exceedingly awkward and difficult to deal with. Freedom from all the ordinary restraints which civilisation imposed upon the natural inner man might easily run to wildest licence. At bottom this man was just a wild Highland cateran with a dash of Spanish buccaneer, hot-blooded, avid of gain under circumstances so propitious, insatiable. The chance of a lifetime had come to him and he was exultantly set on making the most of it. He was like a cage-bred wolf set down suddenly into the midst of an unprotected flock of sheep. There was his natural prey in profusion and there was none to stay him. To be dropped unexpectedly on to this enormous pile of plunder was like the realisation of a fairy tale. No wonder he was inclined to lose his head. It was fortunate, thought Wulfrey, that they were built on different lines, and that the plunder-pile made absolutely no appeal to himself beyond the necessaries of life. He determined, as far as in him lay, to walk warily and to avoid, as far as possible, any just cause of offence on his side. BOOK III BONE OF CONTENTION XXIV They had been three months on the island, and in all that time had never sighted a living ship, though the remains of newly-dead ones were never wanting after bad weather. It was evident that the men of the sea avoided Sable Island as if it were a pestilence, and came there only when it no longer mattered to them whether they came there or not. Macro was, by degrees and with never-lessening enjoyment, amassing a very considerable treasure. If ever the chance of getting back to land arrived, and he could get his plunder home, he would have no need to follow the sea for the rest of his life. But, whether or not that crowning good fortune should ever be his, this gathering of spoil was a huge satisfaction to the very soul of him, and he desired no better. The only flies in his big honey-pot were those rival depredators the birds. He had many a battle royal with them, and came home at times scratched and clawed and furiously comminative, consigning birds of all shapes and sizes to everlasting perdition. Spirits or no spirits, in the day time, and in the prosecution of his work, he would fight them valiantly or trick them cleverly. But in the black storms that swept over them at times, when the great waves crashed like thunder on the spit, and the sandhills and hummocks melted away under Wulfrey's wondering eyes and built themselves afresh in new places, when the shrieking hosts came whirling round the ship and the sky was full of their raucous clamour, then the darkness came on Macro and he fell again to his seuns, and knew them, beyond all doubt, for things of evil. When the odds out there on the wreck-pile were too much for him, he learned by experience how to fool them. He would smash furiously at them with his club, shouting in wild exultation as the bashed bodies went tumbling into the sea. If that did not discourage them, and their venom persisted, he would drop quietly into some adjacent hole amid the wreckage where they could not get at him, and wait there till they whirled away after easier prey. So keen was he on adding to his store that, when their commissariat needed replenishing, Wulfrey found it necessary to accompany him and to insist on his attending strictly to this more important business, or at times they would have gone short. For the rest, Wulfrey left him to the satisfaction of his cravings and interfered with him not at all. One memorable morning, which broke sweet and clear after two days of stress and storm, the mate set off as usual to find what the gods had sent him; and Wulf, leaning over the side, watched him paddle across to the spit, and land there, and stride away towards the western point from which they always waded out to the wreckage. But on this occasion, before he disappeared in the distance, he stopped and stood looking out over the sea, and the next moment Wulfrey saw him wading out towards something which only caught his eye when thus directed to it,--something which bobbed up and down among the waves with a glint of white at times. He saw Macro reach it and lift his arms in a gesture of amazement. Then he bent over it and presently came staggering back up the shore bearing a white burden over his shoulder. It looked at that distance so very like a body that Wulfrey tumbled over on to his raft, and paddled across to the spit, and ran along the shore to where the mate was kneeling now alongside his find. It was the body of a woman, pallid and sodden, with her long dark hair all astream, her white face pinched and shrunken and blue-veined, with dark hollows round the closed eyes, and colourless lips slightly retracted showing even, white teeth. She was clothed only in a long white nightdress, which the water had so moulded to her shapely figure that it looked like a piece of fair white marble sculpture. In life she must have been beautiful, Wulfrey thought, as he stood panting, and gazed down upon her. "Dead?" he jerked. "Ay, sure! She were lashed to yonder spar and I couldna leave her there.... The pity of it! She's been a fine bit." Wulfrey knelt down, and slipped his hand to the quiet heart, instinctively but without hope, bent closer, gently raised one of the closed eyelids, and said hastily, "There may be a chance. Help me back home with her! Quick! You take her feet...." and he taking her under the arms they hurried back along the spit. "She is not dead from drowning anyway," he jerked as they went. "The exposure may have killed her.... She must have suffered dreadfully." It was no easy task to get her on board, but they managed it somehow, and laid her gently among the blankets in Wulfrey's bunk. "Now.... Bags of hot sand, as quick as you can and as many.... Then mix some hot rum and water--not too strong,"--and Macro found himself springing to his orders with an alacrity which would have surprised him if he had had time to think about it. Wulfrey, his professional instincts at highest pressure, drew off the clinging garment, muffled the sea-bitten white body in the blankets, and through them set to gentle vigorous rubbing, to start the chilled blood flowing again. Macro came hurrying in with hot sand from the hearth, wrapped in linen and tied with strands of untwisted rope. "Good! ... As many more as you can," said the Doctor, and placed them against the cold, blue-white feet, and rubbed away for dear life. By degrees he packed her all round with hot sand-bags, Macro heating them as fast as they cooled, in a frying-pan over the fire. He placed them under her arms and between her shoulders, and never ceased his vigorous friction except to renew the bags. Each time the mate came in, his face asked news, and each time Wulfrey shook his head and said, "Not yet," and went on with his rubbing. His own blood was at fever-heat with his exertions in that confined space. But that was all the better. His superfluous warmth might transmit itself in time to the chill white body of his patient. Macro came in with hot rum and water, and Wulfrey poured a few careful drops between the still-livid lips, watched the result anxiously, and followed them up with more, and then resumed his patient rubbing. For over an hour they worked incessantly, and then Macro was for giving it up as hopeless. "'S no good. She's gone, sure," he said. "I don't think so.... Too soon to give up anyway," and the Doctor worked on tirelessly. "If she should come round----" "She won't." "--She'll be starving. You might break up some hard-tack very small and warm it up in some weak rum and water," and he went on with his rubbing. And at last, when he had almost given up hope himself, he had his reward. The mate, poking in a head deprecatory of further waste of time and energy on so hopeless a job, stood staring amazedly. For the pinched dead look of the pitiful white face had given place to a faint presage of life, like the first flutter of dawn on the pallid darkness of the night. Death had visibly relaxed his chill grip. There was a tinge of colour in the parted lips, and the white teeth inside had come together. "She lives," said Wulfrey softly. "Her heart is at work again. Warm up that rum and water," and when it came he administered it cautiously in drops again, and this time they were visibly swallowed. "Have the warm mash ready," he said; and even as he spoke the blue-veined lids fluttered, but so feebly as hardly to lift the long dark lashes from the white cheeks. And through that narrowed window the recovered soul looked mistily out on life once more. He gave her still a little more hot rum and water, and when the warm mashed biscuit came fed her slowly with that, and she swallowed it hungrily if unconsciously. Then, well satisfied with his work, he piled more blankets on her and left her to herself. He had had many a fight with death, but none closer than this. The snatching of a life from the cold hand that was closing on it was always a cause for rejoicing with him. And this life, by reason of its comely tenement, had appealed to him in quite an unusual way. Who she was, and what manner of woman, was still to be learned. For the moment it was enough that she had been within an ace of death and was alive again, and that she was unusually good to look upon. XXV When the Doctor had had a plunge overboard to restore the vitality he had expended on his patient, they sat down to eat, and the mate was inclined to enlarge somewhat exuberantly on the morning's work,--upon his own share in it especially. "A wonderful fine piece of goods for any man to drag out of the water. I'm doubting if you'd have seen her if you'd bin there, Doctor. Just happened to lift my eye that way, and the white of her caught it, and in I went. Not that I thought she could be living, you understand. She felt like Death itself when I carried her ashore in my arms----" "She'll be distressed for lack of clothes when she's ready to get up. But that won't be to-day anyway. Do you think you can light on any out yonder?" "Lit on some last time I was there, but left 'em 'cause they were no use to us. That lot'll mebbe be gone, but there's plenty more for the finding. I'll see to it to-morrow." "She will be grateful to you, I'm sure." "She should, for if it hadn't bin for me she'd be tumbling about on yon spar still, and dead by this time, I'm thinking." "She couldn't have stood much more, that's certain. I was near losing hope myself at times." "Wouldn't have believed she'd ever come back if I hadn't seen it. It's being a doctor made ye keep on so." "One feels bound to keep on while there's a possible chance left. In this case one couldn't but feel that there was a chance, if only a small one. We've done a good day's work to-day." "Ay," said the mate, and presently, "I'm thinking I'll go out there today to get her some clothes. They'll need a lot of drying, you see." "Can you do it before dark?" "I'll do it. Ye'll see to her." "I'll see to her all right. A little more food and then the longer she sleeps the better. If she'd lie where she is for a couple of days it would be all to the good." "Then I'll go," but he came back to bend down into the little companion-way and say, "If she's asking, ye'll tell her it was me pulled her out the water." "I'll tell her." When, presently, Wulfrey went to see how she was going on, he found her sleeping quietly the sleep of utter exhaustion, and as he stood looking at her it seemed to him that she grew more beautiful each time he saw her. The long wet tresses, whose clamminess he had carefully disposed behind the rolled-up blankets which served as a pillow, were drying to a deep warm brown. As they carried her in he had thought her hair was black. It was very thick and long. The texture of her skin, now that the coursing blood had obliterated to some extent the pinch and the bite of the sea, was fine and delicate, he could see, though suffering still from the salt. The pink fingers of one hand had pulled down the blankets round her neck as though she had craved more air, and the soft white neck was smooth and white as marble. The one ear turned towards him was like a delicate little pink shell. All these things he noted before his gaze settled on the quiet sleeping face, and lingered there with a strange new sense of joyous discovery and unexpected increase, as one might feel who suddenly unearths a hidden treasure. He wondered again who she was and whence she came. Of gentle birth, he was sure. It showed in every feature of the placid face,--in the strong sweet curves of a not too small mouth,--in the delicately-turned nostrils,--in the soft level brows,--in the long fringing lashes which, with the shadows left by her sharp encounter with Death, cast about her closed eyes a misty enchantment full of witchery and allurement. He wondered what colour her eyes would be when they opened. A wide white forehead, somewhat high cheek-bones, and a round well-moulded chin, added a fine dignity to the sleeping face. He stood so long gazing at its all-unconscious fascination that he feared at last lest the very earnestness of his look might disturb her. So he picked up her only earthly possession, and leaving her, sleeping soundly, in sole charge of the ship, paddled across to the nearer shore, washed the salt out of her dainty single garment in a fresh-water pool, and spread it in the sun to dry, and then went after rabbits for her benefit when she should waken ravenous. Returned on board, after a glance at his still-sleeping patient,--who lay so motionless that, but for the slight, slow rise and fall of the blankets over her bosom, one might have deemed her dead,--he set to the making of as tempting a soup as rabbit and rice could furnish, and regretted, more sorely than ever before, his lack of salt and seasoning. Then he sat waiting for her to awake and for Macro to come home. If she did not wake of her own accord before sunset he decided to wake her himself. Sleep was without doubt the best of all restoratives, but Nature craves sustenance, and she was almost certainly starving. She would recover strength more quickly still if her system had something to draw upon. Then, too, they had no light but that of the fire. If she woke up in the dark she would be sorely exercised in her mind to know where she had got to. It would be better to satisfy her, mentally and bodily, while still there was daylight to see by. So, when the sun shone level through the western portholes, he went softly to where she lay, still sleeping soundly, and after watching her again for a moment, he placed his hand gently on her forehead. She frowned at the touch and moved uneasily among her blankets. Then the heavy eyes opened and she lay staring wonderingly up at him, evidently trying to piece past and present together, and to make out where she was. "Where am I? ... Who are you?" she jerked, in a voice that would have been rich and full if it had not been a little hoarse and husky. And the pink fingers grasped the blanket and drew it up under the rounded white chin. "You are quite safe on a ship. I am a doctor. I want you to eat some warm soup and then you shall sleep again as long as you can. Here is your night-rail, washed and dried; perhaps you would like to put it on. I will go and fetch the soup." When he came back presently she was visibly more at ease with her frills about her neck. She raised herself on her left elbow, and he placed the tin pannikin of soup in front of her, together with some broken biscuit. "Can you feed yourself?" he asked. "Oh, yes--if I had a spoon." "I am sorry to say we have no spoons." "No spoons?" and she stared at him in vast surprise. "Perhaps you can make shift to drink it out of the pannikin. You see----" "What a very odd ship--to have no spoons!" she took a sip of the soup and screwed up her lips. "Would you get me some salt, if you please? This soup----" "I'm sorry, but we have no salt either. You see----" "No salt?" and she shot another quick amazed look at him. "Mon Dieu, mon Dieu!" at which Wulfrey pricked up his ears. "Whatever kind of a ship--you did say a ship, did you not? Where is it going to?" "It's not going anywhere. You see, it's practically a stranded ship though it's really afloat----" She put her hand to her forehead and rubbed it gently, and then clasped it tightly, with her thumb at one temple and her fingers at the other. "I think my head is swimming yet," she said simply. "I cannot follow what you say." "You'll understand as soon as you get on deck. This ship is bottled up inside a lake on an island. It has been here for probably thirty or forty years----" "And you--have you been here all that time?" "No, we were wrecked as you were, I suppose, on the banks out there. We managed to get ashore and found this ship to live on." "Who are 'we'?" "The mate of the ship and myself. We were the only ones saved. It was he saw you in the water and went in after you and brought you ashore." "It was good of him. I will thank him. Where is he?" "He's out at the wreckage trying to find you some clothes." "He is a good man.... How long have you been here?" "About three months." "And no one has come to you in all that time?" "You are the first. Now"--as she finished the soup--"take a good drink of this,"--some weak rum and water warmed up in another pannikin, over which she choked and coughed and wrinkled up her pretty nose distastefully. "Then you will go to sleep again, and in the morning I hope you will be all right." "But there is so much I would like to know----" "When you have had another long sleep. Are you quite warm?" "Quite. That horrid stuff was like fire." "You were cold enough when we found you. In fact we believed you were dead." She shivered and nestled down among the blankets with a wave of colour in her face. "I will sleep," she said quietly, and the Doctor left her to herself. XXVI It was almost dark before the mate pitched his cargo up on to the deck and came groping up the side after it. "What luck?" asked Wulfrey, as he came up to help him. "Brought all I could lay hands on, but I wouldn't like to say they're right kind of things." "She'll be glad of them whatever they are." "Has she come round?" "I wakened her to take some soup and biscuit. Now I hope she will sleep till morning." "And you told her it was me brought her ashore?" "Yes, I told her that. She will thank you herself." "Did you find out who she is and where she hails from?" "Not yet. There'll be time enough to learn all that. My only desire was to get some nourishment inside her. She'll be building up now all the time she's sleeping." "An' she's a good-looking bit of goods, eh?" asked the mate, as they sat eating. "Very good-looking, I should say, and pulling round quickly. A gentlewoman without doubt." "And how can ye tell that now? There's many a good-looking hussy that's not gentle-born." "Undoubtedly," said Wulfrey, looking across the fire at him. "But this isn't one of that kind. She's a lady to the finger-tips." "Ah--too fine a lady to live on a ship with the likes o' you and me, mebbe," growled the mate. "All same, if't 'adn't bin for me her leddyship ud be no more'n a little white corp tumbling about out yonder in its little white shift." "Quite so," said Wulfrey, on whom this insistence on his sole claim to the salvaging of her was beginning to pall. "And if it hadn't been for me your bringing her ashore wouldn't have been of much service to her. So suppose we say no more about it. We'll divide the honours." "If I hadn't brought her ashore ye couldn't have brought her round," growled the mate. "Six of one and half a dozen of the other." "No six of anything. Ye can't deny I brought her ashore." Wulfrey lit his pipe and went up on deck, wondering what was working in the curious fellow's brain now. When he went down again he found that Macro had opened his bundles and spread their contents out to dry, and had turned in. He just glanced at the varied assortment, and then, not to disturb his patient by going anywhere near her, spread some blankets in the room next to the mate's, and turned in himself. But he lay awake for a long time, wondering if the introduction of this new element into the limited circle of their lives was like to make for peace or otherwise. XXVII Wulfrey was up early, after a restless night, anxious to see how his patient fared. It was such a morning as usually followed their storms--clear and bright and sunny, with a pale-blue wind-swept sky, and a crisp breeze that tipped the green of the waves outside with white. The first time he went softly in she was still sleeping, and with much satisfaction he noted the improvement the food and rest had wrought in her. Her face had filled out, the cheek-bones were less prominent, the dark circles round her eyes were not nearly so pronounced as before, though he imagined the long dark lashes and level brows would always lend a sense of depth and witchery to the great dark eyes themselves. The slight salting and roughening of the skin would speedily cure itself under the application of fresh water. She was almost herself again. Their fire, on its bed of sand, was never allowed to go out. The supply of wood was unlimited and always, in the depths of the heap of white ashes, was a golden core of heat only waiting to be fed. So he set to and prepared coffee for her, and some flour-and-water biscuits, and when he went in again she was awake. She turned her head and looked at him, and his heart beat quicker than was its wont. Her eyes, he perceived, were very dark blue, almost black, and looked the darker for the dark fringing lashes. They were very beautiful eyes, he decided, and very eloquent,--there was something of apprehension in them when first they met his, but it vanished when he spoke. "You are better, I can see. You slept well?" "I have only just wakened. You are the doctor." "Yes, I am the doctor. I have got some coffee for you and some biscuits. I will get them." "You are very good," as he came in with them and she raised herself on to her elbow again. "Did your friend get me any clothes? I feel quite well, and I would get up." "He brought a whole heap of things. They have been spread out all night, but I'm afraid they'll never dry properly till they are washed in fresh water." "And have you fresh water?" "Oh, plenty,--Ashore there, in pools. If you can select a few things I will go across and steep them. They will soon dry in the sun." "You are very good," she said again, and sipped the coffee and glanced up at him with a somewhat wry face. "No, you have no sugar on this strange ship--nor milk. Nor a brush, nor a comb, I'll be bound. Nothing but----" "A brush and a comb we can provide at all events, and of exceptional quality. They belonged, I believe, to His Royal Highness the Duke of Kent." "Edward of Kent?" she asked quickly. "Why--how...." "Some ship, bringing home his belongings from Canada, must have been wrecked here. We have found quite a number of his things." "Well, he would not mind my using them," she said quietly. "He is of a pleasant temper, quite the nicest of them all"; and as she finished the coffee and biscuits, "If you could find me ... a brooch--no, you will not have a brooch! ... a large pin or two,--but no, you will not have any pins! ... Let me see, then,--a sharp splinter of wood----" "I can get you all the splinters you want. Might I ask----" "To pin some of these blankets about me, do you see,--so that I may get up. And if you would get me that royal brush and comb----" He trimmed up half a dozen sharp little skewers and left them with her, together with the brush and comb, and plunged overboard for his morning swim. The mate was sitting by the fire at his breakfast when he went down again. "Well?--how is my lady this morning?" he asked. "So well that she is getting up." "Them clothes all right?" "She will pick out what she wants. But they'll never dry with the salt in them. I'll rinse them in one of the pools as soon as she says which." "There's more mebbe for the finding----" and then they heard the door of her little room open and she came into the cabin to them. The mate jumped up and stood staring as if she were a ghost; and even Wulfrey, who had already made her acquaintance, eyed her with surprise, and was confirmed in the idea that had been growing in him that there was foreign blood in her. He doubted if any Englishwoman could have made so brave a showing out of such poverty of material. Fastened simply with her wooden skewers, she had one blanket draped about her as a skirt, and another covered her shoulders, with a high peak behind her neck, like a monkish cloak. And inside this rough calyx the fair white column of her neck rose out of its surrounding frillery like the stamen of a flower from its nest of petals. Her abundant hair, combed and brushed, but still lacking somewhat of its natural lustre, was coiled about her head in heavy plaits. Though her garments were only rough blankets they were so disposed about her person that she stood before them tall and slim and graceful. Her eyes and face were all aglow at the novelty of her situation. Her feet were bare. She sailed up to the mate with outstretched hand. "It was you who brought me ashore out of that terrible sea," she said, and her voice was no longer hoarse and husky. "I thank you with all my heart." Macro ducked his head but never took his eyes off her. "Gosh! Ye looked very different then, miss," he jerked. "We scarce expected ye'd ever come round like this." "I am the more grateful. But--what a wonderful room you have!"--as she looked round at the mate's barbaric hangings. "Silks and satins!--and such gorgeous colours!" "There's bales of them about, miss, and you're very welcome to them. They'd look better on you than them blankets." "But the blankets are warm, and the dreadful chill of the sea is still in my thoughts all the time. Now I would go on deck and understand about this strange ship of yours," and Macro hastened to lead the way and Wulfrey followed. "But it is truly amazing," she said, as she gazed round at the sandhills and the spit, at the tumbling waves beyond, and the unruffled waters of the lake. "And another ship! Who lives there?" "No one. There is not another soul on the whole island but we three," said Wulfrey. "It sounds dreadfully lonely." "It is not so lonely as the sea." "No, it is not so lonely as the sea. The sea is dreadful, and oh, so-o-o cold when you are dying in it slowly, an inch at a time," and she shivered again at the recollection. "You must try to forget all about it." "I shall never forget it. That is not possible. The memory of it is frozen into my soul. What noise is that?" she asked, listening intently with her hand uplifted. "It's a great cloud of sea-birds that haunts the island. All the wrecks come ashore at that end, and they live there most of the time." "It is like the wailing of lost souls." "Right, miss!" broke in Macro. "That's what it is. They're only birds, mebbe, but there's the souls of the dead inside 'em, an' sometimes they're fair deevils when they come screaming round in a storm." "I could believe that,--the souls of the dead without a doubt." "Suppose we turn to something pleasanter," suggested Wulfrey. "Perhaps you will choose out the things you think most suitable from all that the mate brought over from the wrecks?" "From the wrecks?" ... and she glanced at him doubtfully with a little shiver. "It does not sound too nice." "We will bring them up. You will see them better here," and they spread the deck with Macro's latest importations. "Mon Dieu, mon Dieu!" murmured she, as she turned them over with curious fingers, and held them up to adjudge their style and make. "But they are things of the days before the flood! ... They are too amazing! ... They are wonderful beyond words!" "Could ye no alter them to your needs, mebbe?" suggested Macro hopefully. "Perhaps--with needle and thread and scissors. But have you these?" "Mebbe I can find 'em for ye. There's the cargoes of hunderds o' ships out there. Ye can find a'most anything if ye look long enough. And mebbe there's newer things if I can light on 'em." "And some shoes and stockings, think you? I would be very glad of them. It feels strange to go with bare feet." "I'll find 'em if there's any there." "It is very good of you. I thank you. Could I perhaps come too?" The idea evidently appealed strongly to him. He looked at her eagerly, and hesitated, but finally said, "It's no easy getting there. There's over six miles' walk through the sand, then near a mile of wading up to your neck in the water, and sometimes a bit of a swim, all according to the tide. Some day, mebbe, I'll mek a bit raft to tek ye across from the point there--just to see what it's like. But ye want these things and I'll get along quicker alone." "I thank you all the same. It will be for some other time then," and Macro let himself down on to his raft and paddled away to the spit. She stood watching him till he landed and set off at speed towards the point. "He is truly good-hearted," she said, as he disappeared. "He is not all English?" "He is from the islands off the west coast of Scotland, but he confesses to a strain of Spanish blood also." "And why confesses? It is not, I suppose, his own doing. One confesses to a fault. Is a strain of foreign blood a sin in your eyes then, Monsieur le Docteur?" she asked, with pointed emphasis. "By no means. I should have said he rejoices in it." "We English--British, I should say,"--with a fleeting gleam of a smile--"are too apt to look upon all foreigners as of lower breed than ourselves, which is quite a mistake and leads to much misunderstanding. Every nation has distinctive qualities of its own, is it not so?" "Undoubtedly. And unless one knows them by personal experience one should not pass judgment. I must confess to being nothing of a traveller." "How came you here?" she asked abruptly. "I was bound for America--or Canada, with the intention of settling out there. It looks now, according to the mate, as though this strip of sand has got to suffice us for the rest of our lives." "Really?" ... with a startled look. "Is there no getting away then? Does no one ever come here?" "None but dead men, if they can help it, apparently. You were an exception to the rule. So were we. We have none of us any right to be here alive." "If I had some shoes and stockings, and some proper clothes, I believe I could be quite happy here," she said. "That is if one has not also to starve." "There is no need to starve. The island is over-run with rabbits. There are fish in the lake here if only we could catch them, and out there among the wreckage are all kinds of things--casks of pork and beef, and coffee, and rum, and flour--enough to last us for hundreds of years." "It is a most excellent retreat." "If one were sick of the world. But you surely are too young to have arrived at that stage." "One may be young and yet be sick of one's world.... Sometime I will tell you.... Now, if you please, I will take a few of these things and you will show me your pool and I will wash them----" "Oh, I'll do all that for you----" "Not at all. Besides, with your permission and if you will leave me quite alone, I would like also to wash in fresh water. I too shall never feel quite dry until I have done so." He assisted her down to the other raft, through a break they had long since made in the side for that purpose, and paddled ashore. There he showed her the pool they had set apart for washing, and told her he would come back for her at whatever time she chose. "In two hours, please," and he went off into the sand-hills. But his mind stubbornly refused to interest itself in rabbits. He dropped down on the sunny side of a hummock and let his thoughts run on this most surprising addition to their company. What could possibly explain her,--young, beautiful, of undoubted birth and breeding, yet ready to renounce the world, of which her twenty years or so had apparently given her a surfeit, and to welcome the chance of a hermit life? It was a puzzle beyond any man's understanding. All his thinking led him only towards shadowy possibilities. And these the thought of her sweet face and clear frank outlook rejected instantly as libels on her fair fame, which he, with no more knowledge than he now had, yet felt himself prepared to defend with all his might against the whole world. If that girl was not all that she seemed and that he believed her to be, he would never trust his own judgment again. All the same, it was very amazing, and she filled his thoughts to such an extent that the rabbits hopped fearlessly about him as he sat thinking of her; and it was long after the two hours before he came to himself, and rewarded their temerity by knocking a couple on the head and striding away back to find her. She was sitting waiting for him, with a fresh-water brightness in her face, her hair coiled loosely round her head, and her washing still drying in the sun. She hastily bundled up her things at sight of him and came along to meet him. "I began to fear you had forgotten me," she said. "Very much to the contrary. It was our dinner I came near forgetting," and he dangled the rabbits before her. "You feel better for the fresh water?" "Oh, very much better. And now I am hungry. When does your friend come back?" "Not till evening as a rule. If he can lay hands on what you want he may come sooner to-day." "And you--do you never go out there with him?" "Oh, sometimes. But it doesn't attract me as it does him." "Why then?" "We are differently made, I suppose;--which is perhaps a good thing. He delights in finding things out there. I go out only for necessaries." "What does he find--besides strange old clothes?" "Oh, heaps of things--treasure. There are the cargoes of very many ships out there. They have been accumulating for hundreds of years, I suppose." "And it does not attract you?" "Not in the slightest." "You are, perhaps, rich." "I have enough, and I have my profession,--and little chance apparently of making any use of either." "Ah..." and presently, "As to that, am I wrong then in thinking that if you had not been here I would most likely not have been here either?" and the wind and the sun had whipped a fine colour into her face. "You would, perhaps, not be very far wrong." "I remember it dimly, and in broken bits, like a horrible dream,--the crash, the terrible noise of the waves, the shouting and the screaming. It was the Captain himself who tied me to that mast when everything was going to pieces. And when the waves washed over me, and I felt myself slowly dying, I would have loosed myself if I could, to make an end. It was terrible to be so long of dying. And the cold of the sea!--oh, it was a horror," and she shivered again at the remembrance... "Then I died.... And then--long long afterwards--I found myself coming slowly back to life, and beginning to get warm again, with prickly pains like pins and needles all over me----" "That was your blood beginning to flow again." "----I felt warm hands rubbing me--rubbing, rubbing, rubbing. They must have rubbed for years, and, all the time, I was slowly coming back. They were very warm and soothing. And at last they rubbed me back to life." "What was the name of your ship?" "The 'Ben Lomond,' from Glasgow to New York, and the Captain was John MacDonald. It was a large ship and full of passengers. It is terrible to think of them all gone but me.--Oh, terrible!--terrible!" "Might I ask your name--since we are like to be neighbours for the rest of our lives?" "I am Avice Drummond," she said, with a quick glance at him. "And you?" "Wulfrey Dale." "And the mate?" "Sheumaish Macro,--or Hamish, I'm not sure which." "It is the same. He is a good man?--to be trusted?" "I have no reason to think otherwise, but I have only known him since we landed here. He is chock full of superstition----" "That is the Highlander in him." "A bit hot-blooded too, and apt to boil over." "That is the Spaniard." "And he's crazy after the spoil out yonder." "The Highlander again. It is, as you say, perhaps just as well you do not care for it, or you might have quarrelled." "He is welcome to it all as far as I am concerned." "I am of his country. I can understand how he feels. It is the old riever spirit in him finding its opportunity." XXVIII He was vitally conscious of her proximity to him as they paced through the soft sand towards the raft. The sight of her pink toes popping in and out from under her blanket-skirt quickened his blood. He knew without looking when she glanced round at him now and again, as when he had asked her name. He had not thought that the feeling of a woman's eyes upon him could stir him to such an extent, no matter how wonderful they might be in their depths of eloquent darkness. He knew all about women,--physically, organically, professionally, and still held woman in reverence. Experience had taught him also that in reality he and his fellows knew very little about them beyond merest surface indications,--that there were in most women, perhaps in all, deeps beyond man's sounding, heights beyond his attainment,--a general elusiveness mysteriously comprehensive of feelings, instincts, passions, emotions, nerves, moods, humours, vapours, which a wise man accepted without expecting ever fully to understand. That this shapely girl in her swathed blankets should affect him to such an extent that he was actually conscious of a superb new joy in living, of an absolute rejuvenescence, of a vitalising of all his energies, was a very great surprise to him. He could feel the blood running redder in his veins. His heart beat more briskly than it had done since he landed on the island. But after three months of nothing but Macro and rabbits and screaming birds, it was not to be wondered at after all, he reasoned to himself. Life had been running on a low level. There had been nothing to lift them above the mere satisfaction of their bodily necessities. Eating, sleeping, getting through the days had sufficed them. And here, into that rough husk of a life, had suddenly come a soul, to animate them both to higher things, even though it were no more than the ministering to her more delicate necessities. Even Macro was feeling it, and was toiling out yonder, not for himself but for her. Without doubt life was immensely more worth living than it had been two days ago. It was a joy even to cook for her, though he had always detested the preparation of food. To know beforehand what one was going to eat was sufficient to reduce one's appetite. To superintend a meal through all its stages, from raw to ready, put anything beyond the mere filling of an internal void out of the question. But cooking for himself and cooking for her were matters of very different complexion, and he found himself considering culinary enterprises which surprised him greatly. "You will let me help," she said, when they had climbed on board, and she saw him setting to work on the rabbits. "Can you make biscuit?" "If there is anything to make it with," so he provided her with flour and water and a frying-pan, and tackled his own repulsive job, looking forward to the best-made biscuit they had had since they came ashore. "You have no butter--lard--dripping--fat--nothing?" she asked. "There is some fat pork. We stew it with the rabbit as a rule." "Get me some and I will render it down and we shall have much better cakes. Men never know how to cook unless they are trained to it. You have no seasonings of any kind--no? Nor salt?" "Not a scrap." "We might find something on shore there. I saw many little plants. We will search next time we go." Yes, indeed, even the repellent cooking took on quite a new aspect and became a joyous pastime in her company, and they presently sat down to such a meal as he had not tasted since he left Liverpool. Many a more abundant one he had had, but none with such a flavour to it, and that was due entirely to the deft white hands that had helped to prepare it. Meals hitherto had been in the nature of necessary nuisances. He and the mate had often sat eating without a word between them, and with perhaps less enjoyment in it than the rabbits out there among the sandhills. But, henceforth, meals would be feasts full of delight because of this stranger girl, whose presence would be salt and savour and seasoning to the poorest of fare. "And he--the mate,--when does he eat?" she asked suddenly, after they had begun. "Not till he gets back,--at night-fall as a rule. It's a good long way, you see, and he likes to spend all his time working." "I hope he will find me some shoes,--and some needles and thread. Then I shall feel much happier.... And you really think we shall never get away from here?" she asked, quite cheerfully. "If we could prevail on Macro to think of building a boat, instead of amassing treasure-trove, we might at all events try it. Nova Scotia is but a hundred miles away, he says,----" "So close?" "But he seems to think it a risky voyage, and so far we have come across no tools with which to build. You see, they are not things likely to come ashore." "For myself, I believe I could be quite content to live here," she said again. "For ever?--Never to get back to the larger life of the world as long as you lived?" "Ah--that! ... I do not know.... It is a very hollow life after all, that larger life of the world." "To grow old here," he said thoughtfully, emphasising his points with slowly nodding head. "To be the last one left alive perhaps.... To be all alone, sick, starving, dying slowly in the dark, unable to lift a finger...." "I would drown myself if it came to that. It sounds horrible.... Perhaps, after all, we had better build the boat and get away." "But I don't know that we can. I know nothing about boat-building even if I had the tools, and Macro won't turn to it till he has raked through the wreckage, and that will take him about a hundred years. It grows with every storm, you see." "We must make him." "And the tools?" "We must find them." "Two difficult jobs, perhaps impossible ones. You might perhaps prevail on Macro, but even he can do nothing without tools.... But, if I may venture to say so--it is surely early days for you to have discovered the hollowness of life, and to feel ready to spend the rest of it on a sandbank. Life should hold more in it than that for you." She looked meditatively across at him for a moment, then seemed to make up her mind. "It is natural you should wish to know.... I will tell you.... It is a somewhat sorry story, but I think you will understand.... My name told you nothing?" "Nothing--except that it was a very pretty name." "I feared it would. It is natural, I suppose, to imagine that the whole world knows of one's misfortunes. Have you ever heard of the Countess d'Ormont?" "The name is familiar to me in some way," he said, staring at her in surprise at the trend this was taxing. "But I cannot recall----" "And the Comte d'Artois----" "Of course!" he nodded. "Now I remember----" "The Countess d'Ormont was Margaret Drummond, my mother. My father is Charles Philippe, Comte d'Artois, brother of the poor King, Louis, whose head they cut off; and I hate and detest him for his treatment of her.... She is dead, my poor dear one! ... She believed at first that she was properly married to him, and I have no doubt she was--in London. He is a poor thing, but he was very fond of her, for a time.... I was born at Chantilly. It was before his quarrel with the Duc de Bourbon, and we lived in Paris and elsewhere according to his caprice. When my mother learned all the truth, and that in Paris she was not legally his wife, it broke her heart, I think. I never remembered her but as sad and troubled. Except on my account she was not sorry to die, I know. I was in Paris all through the Red times, and saw--oh, mon Dieu,--the horrors of it all!--things I could never forget if I lived to be a thousand.... In London we were all very badly off.... But he liked to have me with him, and poor Mme de Polastron was very good to me, but she was a strange, strange woman.... Her death was a great blow to him ... and a great loss to me. He was really very badly off there, and I did not like the people he had about him,--de Vaudreuil, de Roll, du Theil, and the rest, and I made up my mind to seek my own life elsewhere. And that is about all." "And you have friends in America--relatives perhaps?" "My mother's people, in Virginia. They have prospered there.... The new life out there, where all men are equal, appeals to me. Now you understand why I would not have cared very much if Mr Macro had not brought me ashore and if you had not rubbed me back to life. I seem to have no place in the world. I hate the aristocrats for what my mother suffered at their hands, and I hate the others for the terrible scenes I passed through as a child. These things are stamped into my heart and brain for ever. And that is why this lonely island, far away from it all, seems better to me than any place I know." "You would grow tired of it." "I could never grow as sick of it as I did of what I have left. It is not perhaps a very full life, but neither is it hollow and heartless. You I can trust, and Mr Macro also. It is lonely, but it is sweet and peaceful----" "Wait till you see it in a storm." "Storms are nothing when you have seen Paris drunk with blood. Ach!--the horror of it!" and she flung out her hands in a gesture full-charged with terrible memories, and then pressed them over her eyes as though to blot it all out. "Well, we will do all in our power to make things comfortable for you, for as long as we have to stop here.... For your sake I hope it will not be long. Life should hold more for you than this," said Wulfrey, and mused much on the beautiful stranger and her strange history, and wondered what the future held for them all. The mate came back when it was growing dark, very tired and in none too good a humour at the poverty of his finds. The results of a hard day's work, so far as he disclosed them, were a number of rusty sail-maker's needles which he had found in a chest, and half a dozen pairs of shoes, sodden almost out of semblance to leather. Miss Drummond, however, was delighted and thanked him heartily. "You will lend me a knife, and out of some of your beautiful silks I will make a new dress. I shall like that better than wearing any of those ancient ones which belonged to the dead." "You're very welcome, miss. I broke into more'n a score of chests and boxes and not a blessed stocking among the lot. And them shoes are pretty bad, but they were best I could find." "I will rub them with fat and they will return all right, and the needles will come bright with sand. I shall do very well now. Thread I can get from a piece of your linen. I thank you very much. Now you will eat some of my cakes." "Best cakes ever I tasted," he said with a full mouth. "Takes a woman to cook properly. And best day's work I done since I got here, fishing you out the water." "Perhaps--I am not yet sure, but I thank you all the same. When will you begin to build a boat for us to get away in?" "Ah! ... Building a boat needs tools. What for do you want to get away so quick? You're but just got here." "At present I am content. But--for always? I am not sure." "Doctor, there, is always wanting to get away. But he knows we can't build a boat without tools. An' I put it to him--has he so much as set eyes on a tool out yonder since we come ashore?" "I can't say I have, but then I haven't seen as much of the wreckage as you have. There may be any amount of----" "Oh, ay, there mebbe! But so far we haven't struck 'em, an' it's no good talking o' boats till we got the tools." "We will look for them," said The Girl confidently. "Oh, ay, ye can look for 'em, and mebbe sometime a boat'll come ashore ready-made, or one that we can make shift to patch up. Meantime we've got all we want here and there's plenty more for the getting out yonder. So be content, say I, miss, for by rights the Doctor and me ought to be two clean-picked white skeletons out there on the pile, an' you ought to be a little white corp tumbling about on yon spar for the birds to peck at." "Are there skeletons out there?" she asked with a shiver. "Heaps." "I think I will not go. I have seen so much of Death. I would forget it for a time." "Ye'll meet him sure if ye try to get across from here in any boat we could build," growled the mate, and filled his pipe and his pannikin. XXIX Next morning Macro went off as usual to the wreck-pile, and Miss Drummond set to work on her dressmaking. Wulfrey hoisted up out of the hold for her such pieces of silk and linen as she required, and scoured a couple of the smallest needles with sand till they were usable. Then, with the sharpest knife he could find among their stock, he cut out on the deck, under her direction, various lengths and designs which to him were meaningless, but replete with possibilities from her point of view. But when, presently, she saw him preparing to go ashore for water and rabbits, she threw down her needle and said, "I will go also. You will not mind?" "On the contrary, I shall mind very much. I shall feel honoured by your company. It is a pleasure to have someone to talk to again," and he helped her down on to the raft, and thought how much less interesting shoes were than little naked feet. "Do you not then talk much with Mr Macro?" "Sometimes, and sometimes we hardly spoke all day." "You quarrelled?" "Hardly that, but ... well, we had not very much in common, you see. His mind was always full of his discoveries out there, and one got rather tired of it at times." "I do not think I shall like him as much as I thought." "Why that? I'm sorry if I have said anything that seems to reflect on him in any way." "I am used to judging for myself. It is a look that comes into his eyes at times,--like a horse when it is going to bite. No,"--with a decided little nod,--"I shall not like him as much as I hoped; and I am sorry, for I ought to feel grateful to him for pulling me out of the water." "I'm glad you are feeling grateful for being alive, anyway," he said, with a smile. "That is better than being doubtful about it." "It is better to be alive than dead. And if we have to live here all our lives--very well, we must put up with it. And if you and he die, and I am left all alone, and get old and sick, as you said yesterday, I will make an end of myself. I was thinking about it all night except when I was sleeping." "I'm sorry to have troubled you so. We will hope for better things. Anyway I have no intention of dying for some time to come, if I can help it." "You must not," she said, with sudden deep earnestness. "I count it God's good mercy that you are here, for I can trust you." "I am used to being trusted," he said quietly. "I know. I can see it.... If I had been all alone ... with nobody but him ... But, no! I could not..." "I don't know that there is any harm in him." She sat nodding her pretty head meaningly.... "You have not seen men loosed from all restraints as I have. I was but a child and did not fully understand. But I see their faces and their eyes still, fierce and wild and hungry for other than bread. When men are answerable to none but themselves they become wild beasts and devils." "It is a hard saying." "But it is true. I have seen it." "And women?" "They are as bad, but in a different way. Oh, they are terrible." "And you and I and Macro here? To whom are we answerable?" he asked, to sound her to the depths. "He is answerable to you," she said quickly. "You and I are answerable to one another, and to God, and to ourselves--to all that has made us what we are. I do not think you could trespass outside all that, any more than I could." "I do not think I could. I am honoured by your confidence in me." He helped her ashore, and they filled the buckets at the pools, and then she expressed a wish to see something more of this sandbank where they might have to pass the rest of their lives. So they threaded their way among the hummocks to the northern shore, and, at the first green valley they came to, she went down on her knees and examined carefully the nestling growths on which the rabbits fed, and found among them certain pungent little plants which she thought might serve for flavouring, and they gathered enough to experiment with. The firm smooth tidal beach, with the ripples creaming up it in sibilant whispers tempted her to bare feet, and she handed him her shoes and splashed along as joyously as a child. "It is a most delightful island," she said. "I do not think I would ever tire of it." "Oh, yes, you would. It is all just the same, you see. You can walk on and on like this and round the other side for forty or fifty miles, and every bit of it is just like the rest." "I think it is beautiful." "It gets monotonous in time. The only diversion is the pile of wreckage down yonder. That is constantly changing and growing." "And discovering more skeletons! It feels odd to think that I should have been one myself if you two had not happened to be here." "I'm sure it feels very much nicer to be comfortably clothed with flesh," and glancing at her supple grace and entrancing bare feet and ankles, he found himself profoundly grateful for the facts of the case. The thought of her as a skeleton was eminently distasteful to him. "Yes, it is better. Dead bodies and bones have always had a horror for me; but not the simple fact of being dead, I think.... I do not think I would be afraid to die--if it were not very painful. But ... well, the thought of my dead body is horrid to me. I would not like to see it." "You're not likely to be troubled to that extent anyway." "No, one is at all events spared that. But why do you talk of such unpleasant things when the sun is shining and the waves are sparkling? Tell me about yourself. All you have told me so far is that you are a doctor, and that your name is Wulfrey Dale. I never heard the name Wulfrey before. And that you were going out to Canada when you were wrecked here. Why were you going out?" He would have liked to be as frank with her as she had been with him. But that was impossible. Another woman's good name was too intricately interwoven with his story, and the whole matter was so open to misjudgment. If he tried to explain he must either label that other woman as murderess or himself as an incapable doctor, and he chose to do neither. He wished she had not asked, but found it only natural that she should desire to know all about him. "I have nothing much to tell," he said. "I come from Hazelford, in Cheshire. My father had the practice there and when he died I succeeded to it. But the wander-spirit seized me. I wanted a larger sphere. The new world called, and I came,--as it turns out to a still smaller place----" "But we are not going to stop here all our lives. We must build that boat and get away." "We will live in hope, anyway, but for that we are dependent on Macro, and he's not an easy man to drive." "We will see," she said confidently. "How do you catch your rabbits?" "Every one of these little valleys is full of them. As soon as you appear they all bolt for their holes and in the panic they tumble over one another and you pick them up." "I am always sorry to kill things, and they are so pretty," she said, as they crept cautiously up the side of the nearest hummock. "But they are very good and I suppose one must eat." "Or starve. Now--see!" and he jumped down into the hollow, which scurried into life under his feet, and came back in a moment with a couple of rabbits which he had already knocked on the head. "Poor little things!" she said, stroking the soft fur. "They were dead before they knew it.... Our lake ends there," he said, pointing it out to her from where they stood on top of the hummock. "But the island goes on and on, all just the same as this as far as you can see." "It looks very lonely ... but I like it," and she sat long, with her hands clasped round her knees, gazing out over the wandering yellow line of sandhills, and the slow-heaving seas which broke in white-fringed ripples along the beach. "And you left no ties behind you there in England?" she asked suddenly, showing where her thoughts had been. "No ties whatever. Friends in plenty, but nothing more. When my father died I was quite alone in the world." She nodded fellow-feelingly, and they sauntered back in a somewhat closer intimacy of understanding and liking for one another. XXX Macro had had a good day out there, and returned in the best of humours with himself and as hungry as usual. As he ate he enlarged on his finds, and when he had finished his supper he piled the fire with light sticks to make a blaze, and spread them out for Miss Drummond's inspection. He had evidently lighted on the personal baggage of some person of quality. There were rings and brooches and pins and bracelets, of gold and silver, set with coloured stones, a couple of small watches beautifully chased and studded with gems, a small silver-mounted mirror all blackened with sea-water, two gold snuff-boxes with enamelled miniatures on the lids--quite a rich haul and very satisfactory to the craving of his spirit. The Girl examined them all carefully, and Wulfrey, watching her quietly through the smoke of his pipe, thought she handled them somewhat gingerly and distastefully, and understood her feeling in the matter. And now and again he caught also a glimpse in the mate's black eyes, as they rested on her, of that which she herself had felt and resented. It might be only the unconscious continuation of the gloating proprietorial look with which he regarded his treasures, which still gleamed in his eyes when they rested on her as though she herself were but one more of them. But whatever it was it was not a pleasant look, and Wulfrey was not surprised at her discomfort under it. He was as devoutly glad that he was there as she could be. Alone with this wild riever, in whom the cross-strain of his wilder forebears was running to licence in its sudden emancipation from all life's ordinary shackles.... It would not bear thinking of. Yes, he was truly glad he was there. And then he remembered, with another grateful throb, that if he had not been there, neither would she have been. For the mate most assuredly would never have brought her back to life. "Some of these are of value," she was saying. "But they are rather pitiful to me.... Some dead woman has treasured them and she is gone. Perhaps you came upon her skeleton out there.... But they are not all real stones----" "And how can ye tell that now?" asked Macro gruffly. "I can tell at once by the feel of them. That now"--pointing to a heavily-gemmed bracelet--"the emeralds are real, the rubies are real, but they are all small. The white stones are not diamonds, but very good imitations. They look almost as well, but they are not diamonds. If they were that bracelet alone would be worth some hundreds of pounds." "Deil take 'em! And you can tell that by feeling at 'em?" "I can tell in a moment. You see I have handled many jewels--some of the finest in the world, and I have seen very many imitations of them." "The deil ye have! How that?" "I have lived among those to whom they belonged, and I am very fond of precious stones." He went away to his own cabin and came back presently with a good-sized bundle done up in blue velvet, and opened it before her. Wulfrey was surprised at the extent of his treasure-trove. For these were only his most precious possessions. He knew that he had in addition considerable store of silver articles which he had been allowed to examine from time to time. If Macro's idea had been to dazzle her with his riches he must have been disappointed. For she greeted the display with a depreciatory "T't--t't!"--and said presently, as she picked out a piece here and there for examination, "It looks like a peddler's pack.... And it makes me sad to think of those to whom they belonged...." "They've no further use for them. And there's no telling who they belonged to. They're for any man's getting now," said Macro defensively. "I suppose so. All the same ... For me--no!" with a most decided shake of the head. "Are they good, or is there false ones among them too?" "Many are good," she said, passing them rapidly and somewhat distastefully under her delicate fingers, "but not by any means all.... You have laboured hard to accumulate so much." "Harder than ever I worked in my life before, but it suits me fine." "But what good is it all unless you can get away from here and turn it to some good use?" "We'll talk of that when I've got all I want, mebbe." "You are like a miser then, ever accumulating and loth to spend." "Just that! Ye see I never had siccan a chance before,--nor many others either. Ye wouldna care for a ring or two, or mebbe a bracelet or a brooch?" "Oh, I could not. It is good of you to offer, but ... no, I thank you. They would always make me think of the skeletons out there. Poor things!" "They don't hurt, and they're aye laughing as if 'twas all a rare joke," which made her shiver with discomfort and draw her blanket closer round her neck at the back. "Well, well!" said he, with a hoarse laugh, as he made up his bundle again. "Folks has queer notions. Ef 't 'adn't been for me----" "And the Doctor," she interposed quickly. "Ay--and the Doctor there----" "I know," she cut him short, "and it is very much nicer to be sitting here by a warm fire than tumbling about on a mast out there. I appreciate it, I assure you." Perhaps it was to restore the balance of his spirits, which had suffered somewhat from the discovery that his treasure was not all he had thought it, that made him apply himself more heartily than usual to the rum cask that night. By the Doctor's advice any water they drank from the brackish pools was mixed with a few drops of rum. Macro always saw to it that a cask was at hand, and he himself took but small risks as far as the water was concerned. But he could stand a heavy load, and as a rule it only made him sluggish and uncompanionable. This night, however, as he sat dourly smoking, and taking every now and again a long pull at his handy pannikin, it seemed to set him brooding over things and at times he grew disputatious. Miss Drummond had turned with obvious relief to the Doctor and said, "These things do not interest you?" "As curiosities only, not intrinsically. I never had any craving for jewelry!" "It is a feminine weakness, I suppose, though I have known men who outvied even the women in their display." "We have simpler ways in the country, and more robust." "Mebbe you're right, and mebbe you're wrong," growled Macro, as the result of his cogitations. "I d'n know, an' you d'n know, an' Doctor, he d'n know, an' none of us knows.... They're mebbe all right... What the deil wud folks want mixing bad stuff wi' good like that?" "It is done sometimes to make a larger show, and sometimes as a matter of precaution," said Miss Drummond quietly. "Those who have valuable jewels are always in fear of having them stolen. They have imitations made, and wear them, and people believe they are the real ones. It is commonly done." "An' is it a thief you wud call me for taking these?" "These are dead men's goods and dead women's, and you do not know whose they were, so it is not stealing. But, for me, I do not like them." "An', for me, I do. An' more I can get, better I'm pleased." "Each to his taste, and you are very welcome to them all. Now, if you please, we will forget all about them, and speak of pleasanter things," and she turned to Wulfrey and began questioning him as to his knowledge of London, which was not nearly so extensive as her own. The mate smoked and drank and glowered across at them. More than once Wulfrey caught his glance resting balefully on The Girl. More than ever was he thankful that he was there to look after her. XXXI "No," said The Girl to Wulfrey, as she sat busily sewing at her new dress on deck next morning, "I do not like your mate as much even as I thought. Do you know what I would do if you were not here?" "What would you do?" "I would go and live on that other ship, or else among the sandhills." "Either would be very uncomfortable. I am glad I am here." "He looks at me as though I were another piece of his treasure-trove, especially when he is getting drunk. If he had tried to wrap me up with the rest in that blue bundle of his I should not have been very much surprised." "He brought you ashore, you see." "Well? What use would that have been if you hadn't brought me back to life?" "Not much, I'm bound to say. But I imagine he considers it gives him first claim on you." "First claim?--for what?" she asked quickly. "Oh, on your regard, your gratitude,----" "My gratitude, if you like. My regard--that goes only where I can respect and esteem. And for him--neither. If he were never to come back again from over there I would not in the least regret it." It was as inevitable that these two should instinctively draw closer to one another, as that their doing so should create something of a breach between them and the mate, and that he should feel and resent it. Except the untoward circumstances of their lot there was practically nothing in common between him and them. His outlook and aims were as different from theirs as were his habits and upbringing. Yet it did seem preposterous to them that three persons, situated as they were, should not be able to live together in peace and good-fellowship. To the ancients, without doubt, the gods would have been apparent behind the slow-drifting white-piled clouds, and behind the storm-wrack and the mists, laughing at the perverse little ways of men, and watching with interest the inevitable tangle produced among them by the advent of a woman. Since the year one, two have found themselves good company and the coming of a third has led to mischief. And yet even that depends on the spirit that is in them. More than once, since he landed on the island, Wulfrey had found himself wishing Providence had sent him honest Jock Steele for company, and that it was the mate's bones that were whitening out there in place of the carpenter's. Whether he himself would have fared so well, if he had not stuck out his leg at risk of his life and helped the mate on to his raft, and so had come ashore alone, he was not sure. And again, whether, if he had been alone, he would ever have sighted The Girl on her mast, was doubtful. If they had much to put up with in Macro, they had also much to thank him for. And so--to bear with him as well as they might and give no occasion for offence if that were possible. But it was no easy matter. They were having a spell of fine weather which enabled him to go out to the wreckage every day. And every night he came home ravenous, and ate and drank and afterwards sat smoking with scarce a word. If they enquired how he had fared he growled the curtest of answers, and showed plainly that their polite interest in his doings was not desired by him. He showed them none of his finds, but sat smoking doggedly, and occasionally gazing through his smoke at The Girl in a way that distressed and discomforted her. But there was nothing in it that Wulfrey could openly take exception to. Even a cat may look at a queen. The look in the mate's black eyes was akin to that with which the cat favours the canary, when he licks his lips below its cage;--if he only dared! Still, they were free of him during the day, and the discomfort of him at other times but drew them closer together. But Wulfrey, watching the man cautiously, saw in him signs and symptoms that he did not like, which bade him be prepared for a possible change for the worse in their relationship. For one thing, he was drinking more heavily than he had ever done since they landed, and the drink and the brooding of his black thoughts might well hatch out unexpected evil to one or other of them. As he lay there of a night, smoking and drinking, with a face of gloom and smouldering fires in his eyes, he was more than ever like a sleeping volcano which might burst forth in flame and fury at any moment. But for the lurking possibilities of trouble, the cool way in which he devoted himself to his own private concerns, and left them to attend to all the irksome little details of the common life, would have had in it something of the humorous. Miss Drummond was indignant and was for leaving him supperless when he came home of a night. But Wulfrey rigorously repressed his strong fellow-feeling therewith, and determined that no provocation should come from their side. So they continued to make ample provision for all, and the mate helped himself as if by right. If, however, good-feeling on the part of the maker has anything to do with the compounding of cakes, as The Girl averred, those she made for the mate must surely have lacked flavour, for her views on the matter were most uncompromisingly expressed, both by hands and tongue, as she made them. "Does he look upon us as his servants, then?"--with a contemptuous slap at the innocent dough.--"To do all his work without so much as a 'Thank you'?"--another vicious slap. "--And to be glowered at as if one were a rabbit that he wanted to devour!"--cakes pitched disdainfully into a corner till the time came to cook them.--"No!--for me, I wish he would stop out there among his skeletons and trouble us no more." Her little tantrums at thought of Macro gave Wulfrey no little amusement. The vivacity of her manner as she delivered herself, blended as it was of Scottish frankness and French sparkle, made her altogether charming. He soothed her ruffled feelings, however, by his own eulogistic appreciation of the cakes she provided for their own use, and it was then that she explained to him how intimately the character of a cake is associated with the feelings of its maker. Matters came to a head a few days later, when the commissariat department began to run low in certain essentials. "We're almost out of flour and pork, Macro," Wulfrey said to him, as the mate was preparing to set off as usual one morning. "Will you bring some back with you?" The black-faced one hesitated one moment, and then cast the die for trouble. "Well, you know where to get 'em," he growled. "Yes, I know where to get them," and Wulfrey braced himself for the tussle. "But----" "Well, then--get 'em, and be ---- to you!" and he leaped down on to his raft and set off for the shore. XXXII Wulfrey watched the mate's retreating figure for a minute or two and then turned quietly to The Girl. "Are you prepared to trust me completely, Miss Drummond?" he asked. "Absolutely. What is it you want me to do?" "We cannot go on this way. He is becoming insufferable. Unless you have anything to say against it, we will take possession of the other ship--you and I, and leave him here to himself." "Yes--let us go. When shall we go? Now?" "We must make it habitable first. It is as empty as a drum, you know." "All the better, since we are overcrowded here with that man. It is to get away from unpleasantness that we go." "We shall need fire,--that means sand for a hearth; and wood--we have heaps here; and cooking things--we will take our fair share, and our blankets. Everything else I can get out yonder." "Allons! Let us go at once and get them." He looked carefully round the horizon. "The weather will hold for a day or two still, I think. Today we had better lay our foundations--sand, wood and so on. Then tomorrow we will go out to the pile and take our cargo straight to the other ship." "What do we do first?" she asked, abrim with excitement. "We will take a load of wood across at once and then go for sand. We will leave the cabin open to air it and light a fire." She was as eager as a child going to a new house, and when presently he helped her up over the side of the other schooner, she tripped to and fro delightedly, and could hardly wait till he forced back the rusty bolts of the cabin hatch with a piece of wood, so impatient was she to inspect the new home. "I like it better than the other," she said, as they stood in the little cabin. "Why? It seems to me just about the same." "The man of gloom is not here. It makes all the difference." They got their wood on board, and he tumbled it down the fore-hatch, which was easier to handle than the main. Then they went ashore, filled a bucket with fresh water, got half a dozen rabbits and a supply of the pungent herbs.... "Why so many?" she asked, and he said quietly, "I don't want to hit him below the belt,"--at which she laughed--"We can afford to be generous. The breach will be wide enough as it is." Then they loaded the raft with sand, and getting back to the ship, arranged their hearth, and with his flint and steel succeeded at last between them in lighting a thin chip, which he ceremoniously handed to her and begged her to start their fire. And as she knelt and applied it, and coaxed and blew till the cheerful flames shot up with a crackling shower of sparks, and the thin blue smoke streamed up the companion-way, still kneeling she waved her hands above it and said, "Light and warmth and comfort and peace! God bless the fire!" and he endorsed it with a hearty "Amen!" and thought he had never seen a fairer sight. When the mate got home that night, he was somewhat surprised to find a supply of food and no objections made to his helping himself. He chuckled grimly, and showed by his face and manner that he considered the matter settled on eminently satisfactory lines. They made no enquiries as to his doings and he volunteered no information. Wulfrey and Miss Drummond talked together as if he were not there. He lay and smoked, and drank, and glowered at them. In the morning he set off as usual, and when they had taken their blankets and their fair share of cooking-utensils across to the 'Martha,' and got them all stowed away, Wulfrey turned to The Girl and said, "Now I will go out to the store-house yonder and get all I can lay hands on." "I will come too. Perhaps I can help. I am very strong, and I would rather go with you than wait here alone. But I do not wish to see any skeletons if you can manage it." "We will try to keep clear of them,--if you are quite sure----" "Have we got to swim, as that man said?" "I may have to. You need not. I will go out to the pile and make a raft, and take you across on it. And all that will take time, so the sooner we're off the better." They paddled across to the spit and hurried along to the point, as nondescript a pair as could well be imagined in disrespect of clothing, but in all else that mattered--in all the great essentials that make for vigorous life--in health, good looks, and high and cheerful spirit--pre-eminently good to look upon. For work on the wreck-pile the less one wore the better; and so he was clad in one simple but sufficient garment, which consisted of a long strip of linen wound many times round his waist and falling to the knees like a South Sea Island kilt. And she wore one of the prehistoric woman's sarks which Macro had brought over from the pile, and a similar, but slightly longer, kilt which swung gracefully a foot or so above her ankles as she walked. He carried an axe in his hand, and had a knife at his back, in a seaman's belt which he had unhooked from its owner's body out there on the pile one day; and his face was somewhat grave and intent, since he was considering the possibilities of Macro's violent rejection of the situation he had himself created, and the consequences that would then ensue. But her bright face was all alive with the spirit of adventure and the novelty of this new departure. "We look like Adam and Eve turned out of Paradise, and setting out to conquer the world," she laughed excitedly. "What would _your_ friends think if they saw you so?" "What they thought wouldn't trouble me in the slightest. If they understood they would understand. If they didn't it would not matter. We are doing what has to be done in the only way to do it. See the birds out there!" "Are those really all birds? I thought it was a cloud whirling about," and she stood and stared in amazement. "Listen and you'll hear them,"--and every now and again the south-west breeze brought them the thin strident wailing of the hungry myriads as they swooped and fought for their living. "They sound horrid," said The Girl, with a sudden shadow on her face. "It is like the wailing of lost souls, as he said. Do they never attack you?" "We have had more than one fight with them. But you can always escape by slipping down into a crack or jumping into the sea. Where did you learn to swim?" "We had a cottage in the Isle of Wight for a year, when first we came from France, and I grew very fond of the water." "Do you see Macro over there?" as they came to the end of the point. "He's hard at work. We'll tackle a different part. If you will sit down here and rest, I will get across and be back as soon as I can." "Could I not come with you?" "I don't know how deep the channels may be. Sometimes we can wade across, sometimes we have to swim." "I don't mind. It can't make me any wetter than if I have to jump in because of the birds. And I have been wetter still." "Very well. It will save much time," and they waded out alongside one another,--The Girl catching her breath at times with spasmodic little jerks of laughter, as she stepped into unexpected depths or a wave came higher than usual;--and he, intent as he was on the business in hand, yet mightily cognisant of her proximity and the penetrating and intoxicating charm of it. When, at one sudden plunge, she gasped and clutched wildly at his bare arm, her touch sent the blood whirling through his veins. He took her soft wet hand, which was all of a tremble with excitement, in his strong and steady one, and she gripped it tightly and drew new strength from it. Out on the great pile of wreckage in front, but somewhat towards their right, they caught glimpses now and again of Macro--a wild dark figure silhouetted against the pale-blue sky behind--as he climbed to and fro, and stood at times, and swung up his arms and his club and smashed his way through to the desire of his heart. Wulfrey worked round to the left, and so came upon a channel which they had to swim. He fastened his axe into his belt at the back and they struck out together. He watched her anxiously at first, but was satisfied. She swam well and knowingly; they soon touched ground again, and another wade and another short swim brought them to the pile. The Girl had been regarding it with curious eyes and ejaculations of wonder. "But it is amazing!" she jerked, when at last they clung to a ledge of the chaotic jumble of flotsam and jetsam. "I never saw anything like it in my life." "That's just as well. Now we'll climb up here, and you will rest while I gather wood and rope and make a raft. Then we'll see what fortune sends us." "Whatever are all those?" she asked, when they had worked their way to the top, and stood looking round. "Those are the bones of the ships that have perished here. There are hundreds of them half-buried in the sand." "It is the most amazing sight I ever set eyes on," she said again, and sat and gazed at it all while he worked busily at the raft. "Now," he said, climbing up to her again at last, "We will look for necessaries first and take anything else we come upon that may be useful. Those barrels are pork, but they are too heavy for us to handle----" "Couldn't you break one open?" "Then the birds would be on us like a shot. Some of them have got their eyes on us already," and he pointed to them swooping watchfully round. "We did that once and had to fight and run for it. Maybe we'll come across some smaller ones before we're done. Here's a small cask of rum. We'll make sure of that," and he rolled and carried it to their landing-place, and they scrambled on. "These barrels are biscuits. Some of it may be good. We'll bring the raft round for it. Those small casks are flour. It's only good in the middle. We'll come round for one of them presently. We want some coffee. We're sure to come across some sooner or later." "What is it like?" "Small square cases about so big." "Oh, I wonder what's in this great case." "We'll soon see," and he smashed at it with his axe. "Hardware. We'll add to our stock since it's here." "And this? Oh, I wish I had an axe too. I want to break open every box we come to," and he laughed out at her quick surrender to the riever spirit. "Why do you laugh at me then? It would surely be helping you." "I know just how you feel, and now you know just how Macro feels." "I know just how he feels. It must grow upon one. I don't want any of the things, but still I would like to break open and find." "We'd better stick to business. When we've got all we come across that will be of service I'll hand you the axe and you can smash away at anything you like, except your toes.... No doubt what's in that box anyway,"--for the ends of rolls of silk were sticking out of it. "I expect Macro has been over this ground already. Shall we take some?" She picked out several rolls, saying, "They may come in useful, even if it's only to make our cabin as fine as his," and he stacked up the silk along with a raffle of rope, which was always to the good. They scrambled to and fro, so busily smashing open cases and discussing their contents that they took no note of the birds gathering above them in ever-increasing numbers. Their ears had grown accustomed to their raucous clamour, and the fact that it had grown louder had not troubled them. But suddenly--they were delving into the side of a huge crate of blankets at the moment--the sky was darkened as by a cloud, and Wulfrey, glancing up in fear of a change in the weather, jerked out a sudden exclamation which made her jump. Then he crushed her roughly down into a narrow black chasm between the blanket-crate and another, and dropped in after her, just as the cloud, grown bold by its increase, came swooping down upon them. Never in her life had she imagined such a nightmare experience. The bristling confusion of the wreckage, the shimmering blue sea beyond, the very light and peace of day itself, all were blotted out in an instant, and in their place was nothing but a prodigious whirling and swooping of vari-coloured feathered bodies, snaking necks, cold beady eyes, pitilessly craving them as food, cruel curved beaks keen to rend and tear, and a hideous clamour of wild wailings. The flutter and beat of myriad wings set the whole atmosphere throbbing, till the blood drummed furiously in The Girl's ears and her head felt like to burst. She shrank down on something that crackled and subsided under her, feeling herself terribly bare to their assault. Wulfrey reached out an arm and groped for a loose blanket and dragged it over them and so hid the nightmare from her. His arm was bleeding when he drew it in. "They will go presently when they find there is nothing to eat," he said into her ear. "They looked as if they would tear one to pieces," and he could feel the shudder that shook her. "They would try if they got the chance." "They are awful.... Oh, listen!"--as the rest of the cloud, sure that such a clamour portended food, whirled round their shelter, brushed it with wings and feet, shrilled their needs and their disgust more loudly than ever, and swept away to seek more satisfying fare elsewhere. The sound of them drifted away at last, occasional stragglers still swooped down to make quite sure there was not a scrap left, but presently these followed the rest and Wulfrey climbed up and looked about him. "All right," he said, and reached down a hand to her. "I think they've gone after Macro," and he hauled her up into the light. "Your arm!" she cried. "Only scratches. No harm done.... What is it?" for she was staring with tragic face into the hole out of which she had just come. And looking down into it he saw that he had flung her bodily on to what had been a skeleton, but was now only a confused heap of brittle bones. "I'm sorry," he said, "but there was no time to pick and choose." "It's a horrible place. Let us go home!" "We'll go at once as soon as we've found some coffee ... and I would like another knife or two.... Look in that chest. Macro has opened it for us.... And if you find any tobacco, I'll thank you," and he rooted rapidly through one broken-open seaman's box, while she did the same by another. "Tobacco--I think," she announced presently, ... "and a knife and a tinder-box." "Another knife" was his find. "And we'll take these two coats----" "Whatever for?" "Well--if any of those screaming deevils, as the mate calls them, should come after us as we go back, you feel them less through a coat than on your bare skin." "I don't think I'll come again." "Oh, it's quite easy to avoid them, you see. And they soon go if they find nothing eatable." "Hideous things! ... Will those cases be coffee?" "I think so.... We'll chance one anyway.... And those small casks are rice. We're doing famously. Is there anything else you would like?" "Heaps of things--spoons, forks, plates, stockings----" "Here are stockings----" and he delved into his chest again. "Truly--but twenty sizes too large. These boxes all seem to have belonged to men. Let us get home before those awful birds come back." So they returned to the raft and pushed it slowly along the pile, from place to place, where the various portions of their cargo stood awaiting them, and Wulfrey wrestled manfully with casks and barrels and boxes in a way that would have astonished himself mightily three months before. And The Girl, eager to help as far as she could--brushing shoulders with him as they hauled and lifted, their hands overlapping at times, their bare arms in closest contact as they struggled with the insensate obstinacy of dead weights,--was very conscious of the play of the corded muscles in his arms and back, and the energy and determination of the quiet resolute face. And she was at once grateful and exultant in the knowledge that all the powers this man possessed were at her service, and that, if occasion should arise, they would be expended for her to the uttermost and without hesitation. She experienced sensations entirely new to her. She found them good. They quickened her blood and stimulated her mind. She had seen much of men, more perhaps than most for her years, but men of a very different type,--unmuscular, powdered and peruked and befrilled, with airs and graces and velvet coats which hid the lack of virility within, and did duty for it to the world at large; men of wealth and highest culture and too often of meanest heart, self-seeking, intent only on their personal satisfactions, self-forgetful only in the pursuit of ignoble ends. In every particular so different from this man. She had met but very few men whom she felt she could trust implicitly. Some of the most apparently sincere had proved the least worthy. And they were the most dangerous. They drew your trust, and so disarmed and then most treacherously betrayed you. Oh, she had seen it, time and again, and so her mind had come to look on men in general as beasts of prey, to be dreaded, and avoided except in the most open and superficial fashion. But this was a man of another world. She had met none like him. He roused her and soothed her as none of those others ever had done, as no man before had ever done. She had seen men as good-looking, perhaps, but in a very different way. Would they have looked as well, stripped of their trappings? She doubted it. And never a man among them could or would, she was sure, have handled these obdurate barrels and boxes as this man did. Truly they seemed to object to removal from their lodging-places as though they were endowed with minds of their own. And she had trusted him implicitly, from the first moment she had looked into his eyes, and recognised that it must be he who had drawn her back out of the closing hand of death. "Better put that on," said Wulfrey, dropping one of the coats over her shoulders, when they had got everything aboard. "Why? I am quite warm." "We have done our work now till we get to the spit. No good chilling in the wind. We're going to sail home," and he slipped on the other jacket, and proceeded to rig up a sail and a steering plank as he had seen the mate do. The Girl broke into a laugh at the change for the worse produced in their appearance by the jackets. "You looked like a Greek or a Roman before," she said. "Now we both look like gipsy tinkers." "Fine feathers--fine birds?" he smiled, as they hauled out past the end of the pile and began lumbering slowly homewards. "Those awful birds!" and she glanced anxiously round for them, but they were busy a mile away and troubled them no more. XXXIII The Girl was glad enough of her old coat before they reached the spit, in spite of its demoralising effect on her appearance,--glad even to snuggle down among the blankets, for, after the hard work of loading, even the south-west wind began presently to feel cool. Then came the discharging, and the transporting of their heavy weights to the smaller raft on the lake, which could not take more than half their cargo at a time. So he took her and a portion across to the 'Martha,' and she undertook to have supper ready by the time he got back with the rest. And surely she wrought pleasanter thoughts even than usual into her cooking that day, for it seemed to him, when in due course he sat opposite to her on the other side of their fire, that he had never enjoyed a meal so much in his life, deficient as it was in many things that he had always regarded as needful. "We have done a good day's work," he said, as he lit his pipe at her request. "I wonder what he will say about it." "We will not let it trouble us. He has only himself to blame." "I wonder if you and he would have quarrelled if I had never come." "We certainly would if he had taken the line he has done. As long as he did his fair share of the providing I did not mind. But the position he took up was an impossible one." They fell into reminiscent talk of that great outer world which seemed so remote, and from which, for all they knew, they were now for ever cut off. She had many strange recollections of her earlier life in France, some very terrible ones of the times of the Red Deluge, very mixed ones of the later times in England. It was amazing to him to sit in that bare cabin of a deserted ship, on an island shunned by all, listening to her familiar talk of men and women who had been but names to him, until her intimate knowledge of them made them into actual living personages. Her outlook on life had been very much wider than his own. She had lived among the scenes and people of whom he had only read in the news-sheets. He was immensely interested, both in the things she talked about and the way she talked about them. His questionings towards a clearer understanding on points which were to her matters of simplest elementary knowledge amused her not a little. And he got many a self-revealing glimpse into that strange past life of hers, from which she was so contented to escape, but which was yet so full of colour and contrast and vivid actuality that, in spite of all its discrepancies and disillusionments, it had assumed for her a certain glamour which she averred it had never worn at the time. "Wait a moment," he would say, breaking into her flow of reminiscence, "'Monsieur' is----?" "The Comte de Provence, the late King's brother, my uncle. My father, the King's next brother, the Comte d'Artois, is 'Monseigneur.' He has become terribly devout since Mme de Polastron died. The abbè Latil is his heart and mind and conscience. In his way he was fond of me, I believe, but since I came to understand the wrong he did my mother, I have detested him. And I have no doubt he was not sorry when I broke away. I was a perpetual reminder, you see----" "And there is another Countess d'Artois?" "Oh, yes,--Marie Thérèse of Savoy, but she is too awful,--a quite impossible woman, one must say that much for him. If ever a man had good excuse for seeking his pleasures elsewhere, he had. She was terrible. She had no more moral feeling than a cat." "And Madame Adélaide----? Let me see--who was she?" "My great-aunt--poor old thing! Those atrocious Narbonnes lived on her and turned her round their fingers." "And Madame Elizabeth? It is terribly confusing." "Not at all. It is all as simple as can be. Madame Elizabeth was my aunt, my father's sister. She was very sweet. Poor dear! They cut off her head, though she never harmed a soul since the day she was born. She was very good to me. If she had lived I do not think I would be here. She was not like the rest. I could have lived happily with her." And so she chattered away,--about the late King--her uncle also,--and of the Duc d'Orleans,--"always a self-seeker, and intriguer, with a very sharp eye on the way things might turn to his own benefit. Oh, I am glad they took his head off. It was righteous retribution."--And of the Queen---- "She did foolish things at times, but she meant no harm, and, mon Dieu, how she suffered!"--And of Lafayette, and Talleyrand, and many and many another. And it was indeed passing strange to lie there listening to it all--she clad in her blankets, for the night air had a chill in it, and he in the sea-damaged coat and small clothes of a gentleman of the Duke of Kent's suite, while between them the thin blue reek of the drift-wood fire on its hearth of sand stole up through the half-closed companion-hatch to the lonely night outside. XXXIV "We shall have a visit from our next-door neighbour presently, I expect," said Wulfrey, when The Girl came out of her cabin next morning. "Will you mind stopping below while I dispose of him?" "But why?" "He puts things coarsely at times, and he will probably be in a very bad humour at having to get his own meals ready." "I don't mind him." "Nor do I, except on your account. But I shall feel happier if you are out of sight and hearing." "Oh, very well. But nothing he could say would trouble me in the slightest." So, after breakfast, she sat down on the cabin floor to her sewing, and he lit his pipe and went up on deck carrying his axe. He closed the companion-doors and hatch very quietly--but she heard him--and went forward into the bows, which, since the usual wind blew from the south-west, was the nearest point to the 'Jane and Mary.' It was a long time before the mate showed any signs, beyond an extra rush of smoke when he made up his fire to cook his breakfast. But he came up at last, caught sight of Wulfrey, and stood scowling across at him for a time. Then he dropped down on to his raft and came wobbling, with quick angry strokes, across to the 'Martha.' "So that's it, is it?" he growled, with a grim look on his dark face. "That's it," said Wulfrey coolly. "And you think you've got her all to yourself?--what you've been plotting for ever since I hauled her ashore." "Are you speaking of Miss Drummond?" "I'm speaking of that girl. 'Twas me hauled her ashore an' she's my right if she's anybody's." "There it is, you see. She is nobody's right but her own. And neither she nor I are your servants, to prepare your food and see to your comfort while you dig treasure out of the wreckage. So we have decided to fend for ourselves and you can fend for yourself." "Ah! You think so, do you? We'll see about that." "We undertake not to go aboard your ship if you give your word not to come aboard ours." "See you ---- first!" "Thank you! Then now we know how we stand, and will act accordingly." "Ay, now you know." "And will act accordingly," emphasised Wulfrey once more. "I must ask you to keep off," as the mate paddled alongside and reached up a rough hairy hand to the side. "I'm sorry it's come to this, but I won't have you on board." "Won't, eh?" and as he reached up the other hand and prepared to mount, Wulfrey picked up his axe and held it threateningly above the clinging hands, which straightway loosed their hold amid a volley of curses. "---- ---- ---- ---- you! You'd maim me! ---- ---- ---- ---- me, if I don't pay you for this! The girl's mine. I found her. I'll get her over your dead body if needs be." "Ah! And who found you? And where would you be if I hadn't helped you on to the raft yon first night? Tell me that, will you? By the same rule you're mine, and all you've got is mine." "---- ---- ---- ---- you for a ---- ---- ---- sea-lawyer!" foamed the mate, his dark face and eyes all ablaze, his shaking fists hurling curses beyond the compass of his tongue. Wulfrey, eyeing him professionally, said to himself, "Too much rum. He'll have D.T. if he doesn't slack off--or a fit if he does much of this kind of thing." The mate thrashed back to his own ship with furious strokes and climbed aboard, and Wulfrey, having watched him safely up the side, went down to The Girl. "He is very angry," he said quietly. "He did not whisper. I couldn't help hearing him. What will he do next?" "We can only wait and see. We shall have to be on our guard, but we won't let him trouble us. He is drinking too much." They saw nothing more of him all that day, not even his head above the bulwarks. Wulfrey surmised that he was probably treating his wrath with rum, and plotting mischief, or maybe he was lying dead drunk in his cabin. They themselves were well provided in all respects, but he had good reason to know that stocks across there were running low, and that before long the man of wrath would have to go abroad to make up his deficiencies, and that would give them the opportunity of getting in fresh water and rabbit-meat. He could only hope the mate would not postpone his journey too long, for the weather seemed like changing. There was no sun visible, not a speck of blue sky, but in their place a wan-white opaqueness which looked portentous and might mean anything. Wulf spent most of the day on the alert, leaving the deck only for meals, and popping up even in the middle of them to make sure that all was right. But Macro made no sign. There was no knowing, however, what a furious, rum-fuddled man might attempt. His crazy jealousy and anger might stick at nothing, and Wulfrey looked forward to a watchful night as a necessity. And, as he paced the deck, he ruminated on the handicap imposed by virtue on an honest man when fighting roguery. Here was Macro at liberty to sleep without fear of assault, to go ashore for water and fresh meat, and to the wreckage for everything he wanted, assured in his own mind that no one would rifle his stores, or fire his ship, or play any other dastardly trick, in his absence. While they, if they left their stronghold unguarded for an hour, must be exposed to all these things, and constant watchfulness would be necessary to prevent them. It was not a pleasant prospect and he did not see how it was going to end. At the same time he did not see what other course had been left to them, and he was determined to go through with this, cost what it might. The thought of striking down this man with whom he had lived in fellowship, even in fair fight, was abhorrent to him. The thought of being struck down himself made his blood run cold on The Girl's account. Both possibilities must be avoided if possible. The latter at all hazards. If it came to the mate suffering or The Girl, the mate would have to go without compunction. XXXV The night passed without disturbance, the morning found them swathed in dense white mist which hid one side of the ship from the other. "He did not come again?" asked The Girl when they met. "I am ashamed to have slept so soundly. I intended to take my fair share of the watching." "There was no need. I bolted the doors and slept at the foot of the stairs. It's all cotton-wool outside. You can't see a couple of feet. He won't venture out in that, if I know him. But we need water. I'll go across after breakfast and get some." "I shall come too. I wouldn't stop here alone for anything." "All right. Our only difficulty will be in finding the shore and getting back to the ship. Fog is terribly bewildering." "If you can find the shore we can get back all right," she said, after thinking it over. "How?" "We have that heap of rope you brought over. Could we not untwist some and make a cord? Then if we tied one end to the ship and carried the other ashore we could feel our way back by it." "It will take a lot of untwisting. We're quite two hundred yards from the shore. But it's worth trying." So they untwisted rope till their fingers were sore, and tied the pieces together till he judged they had enough, and presently they embarked noiselessly on their raft and paddled in the direction in which he believed the shore lay, The Girl paying out the string as they went. This weird envelopment of dense white mist was a new experience for her. She could barely see the water a foot or two away. The string slipped through her fingers and vanished into the fog-wall. Dale, sweeping the water with his oar, loomed dim and large just above her. They went on and on, but found no shore. "The string is nearly all done," she said at last. "Then we're going wrong," he whispered. "Don't speak loud, we don't know how near we may be to----" and, as if to confirm his fears, a great black bulk appeared in the clammy white above them, and Wulfrey hurriedly checked their way and backed off into the fog again. "'The Jane and Mary,'" he whispered, when they had put a space between them and it. "We've been circling round. The shore must be this way, I think----" and the cord slacked in The Girl's fingers as he struck off to the right, and in due course they made the beach with cord to spare. They tied the precious guiding-line to the raft and set off with their buckets, Wulfrey trailing his oar behind him so that by its mark in the sand they might grope their way back. In his belt he carried the only weapon he possessed, his axe, which, as matters stood with the mate, he deemed it advisable always to have at hand. Keeping along the edge of the lake till he judged they were opposite the ponds, they struck inland, and managing to keep a straighter course than on the water, came at last to their goal. They filled their buckets and were returning on their trail, bending every now and again to make sure they were right, when, with an abruptness that startled the buckets out of their hands, a dark figure loomed up on them out of the fog and they found themselves face to face with the mate. He had heard them coming and was ready. Wulfrey had barely time to drop his oar and pluck out his axe when the other sprang at him with his weapon swung up for the blow. It was very grim. Of all fighting-tools the axe is the most brutal--after, perhaps, the spiked club and the scythe-blade tied on a pole, which are only fit for savages. It is cumbersome and ungainly. It admits of little skill either in attack or defence. Its arguments are final and convincing, and its wounds are very ghastly. The Girl could barely make out which was which, so thick was the veiling fog. But that did not matter. She sprang in between the two dark figures with arms outspread, at imminent risk of receiving both their blows, crying, "No!--You shall not! You shall not!" The mate hurled oaths at her. She thought he was going to strike her down. And past her, at Wulfrey,--"---- ye! It's like ye. Steal her first, then hide behind her!" With one big black hand he gripped her blanket cloak and whirled her away into the mist, and came plunging at Wulfrey, who stood with poised axe and eyes that watched his every movement. The mate played round him for an opening. Out of the corner of his eye he saw The Girl groping about for the oar. He rushed in to end it with one crushing blow. But Wulf was ready for him and he was the cooler man. As the mate's axe came swooshing down straight for his shoulder and neck, his own swung round, caught the other full in the blade with its own stout back, and with a ringing click sent it flying, with such a shock to the arm that had held it that the mate believed it was broken. He ducked with an oath and disappeared into the fog. The Girl came panting up, her face all sanded with her fall, her eyes ablaze. "Did it reach you?" "Not at all. I'm all right." "The brute! I feared he would kill you." "He did his worst.... What were you going to do with that?"--the oar she had picked up. "I was going to smash him on the head with it, but I couldn't find it at first." "Two to one!" "I don't care. I'd have killed him if I could." "What about our water?" "It's all spilled." "We'll go back for more. He won't come back. I doubt if he'll find his axe in this fog. Which way now?" and he stood puzzling, for force of circumstance and much trampling of the sand had lost them their clue. "You cast round that way for the mark of the oar, but don't go far. I'll try this side. Call if you find." "Here!" she cried, almost at once, and he followed her voice into the fog and found her standing on the line. But so confused were they that even then they had not an idea which way to follow it. "Which way?" she asked, staring down at the groove under her feet. "This, I think.... I don't know," and he stood perplexed, "There is nothing for it but following it up and seeing where we come to." So they picked up their buckets, and he took the oar, and they set off again,--and came out at last, not on the green undergrowth which flourished round the ponds, but on the bare shore of the lake. "Now we know where we are at all events. Dare you stop here while I go back?" "No," she said with a shiver. "Come along, then!" and they turned and went back, and he discoursed of fogs as they went. "Nothing like a fog for absolutely confusing one's sense of direction. I've known people wander for hours on a common, round and round, quite unable to get anywhere. And one soon gets into a panic and common sense goes overboard." She had not had much experience of fogs, but expressed herself vehemently on the subject, and so they came to the ponds, and back, in time, to their raft. And Wulfrey was mightily glad to see it again, for the idea had been troubling him that Macro might have found it, and set it adrift, or gone off to their ship to find solace there for his discomfiture ashore. "I wonder where he's got to?" he said anxiously. "I don't care. I wish he'd get lost in the fog and never come back." "You feel strongly," he said, with a smile at her vehemence. "Yes, I like or I dislike, and both to the full." The guiding-line led them safely home, and glad they were to get there, for the chill of the fog and the treacheries it held were enough to weigh down the staunchest of spirits. XXXVI Their experiences in the fog had occupied many hours, and the unusual strain had left them both somewhat lax and weary. By the time they had prepared and eaten their much-delayed meal, and were enjoying the after-rest, the thick whiteness outside had turned to chiller gray, and the comfort of a blazing fire was eminently agreeable. Wulfrey closed the companion-doors and hatch, all except the narrowest crack through which the smoke could escape, lit his pipe, and lay at ease, watching the many-coloured tongues of the dancing flames and The Girl who sat gazing dreamily into them on the other side, and wondered how it would have been with them all if Macro's vicious blow had got home on his neck. She was very good to look upon as she sat there in the flickering half-darkness. The gracious curves of her supple young figure transformed the bare little cabin into a Temple of Youth and Beauty. The dusky glamour of her hair, the shadowy beauty of her dark soft eyes, the level brows and wide white forehead which gave such strength and dignity to her face--they all held for him an arrest and an appeal such as he had never before experienced. She had made herself a robe out of a piece of the crimson silk they had brought over from the pile. It was hardly a dress, for it swathed about her in flowing folds rather than fitted to her. But he thought he had never seen so becoming a garment. It was sheer delight to lie and look at her. But it was a sufficiently difficult problem that faced him. In his present state of mind, the mate seemed determined to make an end of him the first chance that offered. Was there any reasonable hope of a change for the better in him? Were they to live in a perpetual state of defence till one of them went under?--all the advantages of unscrupulous attack being left to the enemy. Was it reasonable? If not, what was to be done, and how? The man had suddenly become a deadly menace. He was no better, in his unprincipled cravings, than a wild beast. If that girl fell helpless into his coarse hands.... And she knew it and looked to him for protection. And protection to the utmost of his powers she should have.... Was he justified in slaying the man? ... In view of the deadly intent of this latest attack he thought he was. But whether he could bring himself to it, if the chance offered, he was not by any means sure.... The deliberate killing of one's fellow was a serious matter.... In self-defence of course one was justified.... As to the law--it seemed as though the mate was right in his belief that they were destined to spend the rest of their lives--some of them at all events--on this bare bank of sand, where none ever came who could help it, and where no law but that of Nature obtained.... But there was a higher law. "Thou shalt not kill." ... Yes, it would be very much against the grain of his life and conscience, but it might have to be.... He sat up suddenly, listening intently. "What is it?" asked The Girl, startled out of her own reverie. He raised his hand for silence. "I thought I heard a cry," and he got up, and went up the steps, and opened the door and stood there straining his ears into the clammy darkness. The fog lay thicker than ever. It was like listening into the side of a bale of raw cotton. The faint glow of the fire below died against the opaque wall in front. It could not have been seen a yard away. The Girl stood on the stairs close behind him. "I must have been mistaken," he murmured, "or perhaps it was a seagull,"--when, just below and almost alongside them, there came the violent sweep of an oar used as a paddle, and a wild spate of curses like the furious outburst of a panic-stricken brain. Wulf slipped noiselessly down for his axe and stepped up on deck. If he went past, well and good. If he ran into them---- There came a sudden bump against the side of their ship and the sound of a fall on the raft. "---- ---- ---- ---- ye, ye ---- ---- rotten old coffin! I've got ye at last, ---- ---- ----!" and right up out of the fog under Wulfrey's nose came two clammy black hands clawing nervously at the bulwark. "You can't come aboard here, Macro," he said quietly. The grimy hands loosed with a startled oath and the mate dropped back on to his raft. "----! That you again? ---- ---- ---- ---- you! I thought.... Then my ---- craft must be over there. ---- ---- ----! I'll do for you yet, my cully!" and the oar dashed into the water again and he cursed himself off into the darkness. "You could have killed him," gasped The Girl at his side, through her chattering teeth. "I could--but I couldn't." "We shall have no peace while he lives." "I fear not. Still--I couldn't cut him down in cold blood like that. What would you have thought of me if I had done so?" "I should have said you had done well." "I know you better." At which she shook her head. "You don't know what horrid thoughts whirl about in my mind. No man really knows what a woman thinks," and the frank dark eyes regarded him solemnly. "I know you better than you do yourself." "I doubt it," with another shake of the head. "But, even then, it might have been best,"--with a shiver--"It sounds horrible--but----" He could understand all her feeling in the matter. In her place he would have felt just the same. The man was a hideous menace--to her especially--and there would be no security for them while he lived. But all the same.... "Let us get back to the fire," he said quietly. "He won't come back tonight. Poor wretch, he's probably been paddling about all day looking for his ship and he's half crazed with it." "I don't think I am bloodthirsty by nature," she said, with her hands pressed tight to her eyes, when she had sunk down before the fire again. "But I fear that man with all my soul, both for myself and you. He will kill you if he gets the chance. If he kills you I shall kill myself. It is better that one should die than two." "I agree, but I don't want to have the killing of him if I can help it." "Killing is horrible," and she shivered again, "But being killed is worse ... and to fall into the hands of a man like that would be even worse still. What will be the end of it all?" But that was beyond him, and their hearts were heavy over it. XXXVII "Is it often like this?" asked The Girl depressedly, on the third day of mist. "I'm afraid there's a good deal of it. We've had it three or four times since we came. It may be worse in the winter." "I wish we could get away." "I wish so too, but I don't see how we're to manage it ... unless, sometime, a boat washes ashore among the wreckage. And even then ... without Macro to manage it..." and he shook his head unhopefully. "... In the meantime I count it marvellous gain that you should have come----" And at that it was her turn to shake her head. "I don't know. I seem to have brought more harm than good." "It has made all the difference in the world." "Yes, it has set you two by the ears and put you in peril of your life. That is not a good work." "Your company more than compensates. Besides, we should probably have got to loggerheads in any case, and without anything like so good a reason." "It would have been better, I think, if you had let me go when I was so nearly gone, and not rubbed me back to life." "I thank God that you came," he said weightily. "Without you we might have sunk into savages, caring only for the lower things. You lift me without knowing it." "You couldn't sink into a savage. He is one naturally. And I am becoming one, for I am all the time wishing he were dead." "He must be having a bad time, unless he brought over provisions that last time, and I doubt if he did. He's probably living chiefly on rum. And that won't bring him to any better frame of mind, I'm afraid." "To think," she mused, "that three people cannot live on an island big enough to hold thousands, without quarrelling to the death!" "The trouble is not of our making, so we need not blame ourselves." "Yes, it is. I began it by coming ashore. You ought to have let me stop out there----" "You are very much better here." "----And you continued it by bringing me back to life. You ought to have let me die." "Very well. I accept all the blame and rejoice in it," he said, with a smile. "It is just the fog getting into you. You'll feel differently about it when the sun comes out again." "Sun? I don't believe we are going to see it again. I don't believe it ever shines here or ever has done since the world began. It is an island of mist ... and we are just vapours----" "Macro's not anyway. I wish he were. He wouldn't trouble me in the slightest then. He's a solid strong mixture of Spanish buccaneer and Highland robber, with a touch of volcano to keep the mixture boiling." But the chill of the mist was upon her and nothing he could say availed to cheer her. So he hauled out the rolls of silk they had brought over, and set to work decorating the cabin with them, and interested her out of her depression by the purposed mistakes he made. It was the ravelling off of a long thread from one of the pieces of silk he was cutting, that showed him the way to a new employment for her and the possibilities of a welcome addition to their meagre larder. "Do you think you could twist two or three of these into a fishing-line?" he asked her. "I've seen heaps of fish in the lake. We might try for some." "And hooks?" "If you could spare me one of your big needles I think I could make something that might do." She went at once and got him one, and then set to work on the line, and he could hardly get on with his own job for watching her. She was so eminently graceful in all her movements. Her tall slender figure, supple, shapely, and all softly rounded curves without a discoverable abruptness or angularity anywhere about it, lent itself with singular charm to her present occupation. After thoughtful consideration of the matter, she unrolled one of the pieces of silk the whole width of the cabin, then picking out a thread, she fastened the end of it to the woodwork and travelled along the side of the piece, bending and releasing it as she went. The same with two more threads. "Three ply will be strong enough?" she asked, straightening up and looking across at him. "Let me see what three ply feel like," and he went across and watched her while she twisted the threads tightly together with deft soft fingers. "I should think that would do," he said, running it between his finger and thumb. Their hands met, and the touch of hers sent a quite unexpected thrill of physical delight tingling through his veins. He did not dare to look full at her for the moment, lest she should see it in his eyes. But he was conscious to the point of pain of her close proximity,--somehow conscious too--and that quite unconsciously and without any reasoning on the matter--that, in the twinkling of an eye, she was no longer simply a beautiful and charming girl, but had become for him the most beautiful and charming girl in all the world. His heart felt suddenly too big for his body. He could have taken her in his arms then and there, and crushed her to him, and smothered her with hot kisses. And he could no more have done it than he could have brained her with his axe. For she trusted him implicitly, and he was himself. He took a deep breath to give his heart more room, and bent to examine her twist. "It will do splendidly," he said, and she glanced quickly at him and wondered what had made that curious change in his voice. "How will you keep it rolled tight like that?" "I've been thinking. If I greased my fingers with some of that pork fat as I roll it, and roll it very tight, it will probably keep so. How long will you want it?" "As long as you can make it without too much trouble." "I can make it the full length of that silk as far as I see." "That will do admirably.... If I can make as good a hook as you have made a line we will have fish for dinner," and he went back to the fire, where, with his axe and his knife and two rusty nails lashed together at the top to act as tweezers, he was endeavouring to bend a portion of her needle into a hook. At the cost of some burns and cuts he managed at last to make something distantly resembling one. "It looks horrid," said The Girl when he showed it to her. "I shall be sorry for the fishes if they get that into them." "So shall I. But we'll not let them suffer long if they give us the chance." She was as eager as a child with a new toy to put their work to the test. So he cut some small pieces of pork and embedded his hook in one, and dropped it into the bed of mist over the side. And she leaned over, with her shoulder unconsciously against his,--but he felt it, and rejoiced in the feel as keenly as ever Macro did in his treasure-trove--and peered anxiously down at the line, of which she could see but a couple of feet, and waited impatiently for results. He put it into her hand, saying, "If anything comes of it you shall have the honour of catching our first fish," but he held on to the slack behind. "It's jerking," she whispered breathlessly, "Oh, I'm sure there's something on it..." and as she let go the line he gave it a jerk on his own account, then drew it quickly in and a plump astonished fish lay jumping and twisting on the deck. It was over a foot in length, very prettily coloured, dark blue with many cross-streaks and silvery below. "Mackerel, I think," he said, and promptly knocked it on the head, to end its troubles and allow him the further use of his hook. "The poor little thing! I'm so sorry," she said, looking mournfully down at the iridescent beauty. "I don't think I like fishing." "You'll think better of it when it's fried." "I couldn't touch it," with a vigorous shake of the head. So he asked her to go down and make some cakes, and then caught another fish of a different kind the moment the bait reached the water, and a couple more for breakfast next day, and was thereby much reassured as to the future of their larder. He cleaned two of his fish and fried them with some pork fat as soon as she had made her cakes, and proceeded to reason her out of her prejudice. "You have eaten fish all your life, haven't you?" he asked. "Ye-es." "Well, every fish has had to be caught before you could eat it. They generally leave them to die. But even that is probably only similar to our drowning, which is said to be about as pleasant a way as there is of going." "It's horribly cold if you're lashed to a mast,"--with a reminiscent shiver. "And being rubbed back to life is just as bad." "And we are more merciful, because we kill them at once." "It's horrible to think that everything we eat, except things that grow of course, has got to suffer death for us." "But you have always eaten these things without being troubled about it." "The killing has never been brought home to me so closely before." "It's Nature's law, you see. Everything feeds on something else. These fishes feed on smaller things. And how do you know that when you cut a cabbage or a potato----" "How I wish I had the chance!" "So do I, most heartily. But how do you know they don't feel it just as much, in their own dull way, as the pig did from which we get our pork?" She shook her head and sighed. "We can't get away from it, I suppose," and tasted the fish and found it good, and ate quite heartily though with an appearance of protest. "You see," he said. "Some fishes lay millions of eggs at a time. If they all grew up the sea would be choked with them, as the earth would be with animals if they weren't killed off. Besides, unless I am mistaken in my recollection of our old parson's reading, all these things were expressly provided for man's sustenance, so we are only doing our duty in eating them." "All the same, I think I will let you do all the catching and killing." "Of course. That is the man's proper part in the family economy. He is the bread-and-meat winner. And the wife's--the woman's, I mean--is to see to the cooking," and he occupied himself busily with fish-bones, and felt like biting his tongue off for its involuntary slip. "If you had lived on pork and rabbits for months you would find this fish delicious," he said presently, to break the odd little silence that had fallen on them. "It is very good. I wonder you never caught any before." "I did try, but my tackle was too rough. The fish would have none of it. It is your clever line that has done the trick." "I am glad to be of some use, though I can't help being sorry for the fish." And if he had dared he would have delighted to tell her of what infinitely greater use she was to him in other and higher ways. XXXVIII Wulfrey was awakened in the night by the sounds he had come to recognise as the accompaniments of bad weather. The ship was humming in the wind and straining and jerking restively at the rusty cable which he was always expecting to give way. He wondered sleepily what would happen to them if it did. Wondered also if The Girl was frightened at the changed conditions, or whether she would understand. He slipped on some clothes and went into the cabin, to reassure her if necessary. The fire was a bed of white ashes and a rose-gold core in the centre. He piled on some chips and the flames broke out with a cheerful crackle. The door of The Girl's little passage way opened an inch or two, and he caught a glimpse of her startled eyes shining in the fire-light. "I was afraid you might be disturbed by the storm," he said. She went back for a moment, and then came out with her blanket skirt and cloak swathed about her, and sat down by the fire. "It woke me, and I cannot get to sleep again. Oh ... what is that?"--as a shrill scream pealed out just above the opening in the companion-hatch. "It's only those infernal birds. They always come screeching round us in bad weather." "I had just been dreaming that that horrid man came across in the night and murdered us both. It was such a relief to see you alive again." "No fear of his venturing out in this weather. Those screaming birds get on his nerves. He'll be sitting drinking, and cursing them in the most awful Gaelic he can twist his tongue to. This weather will probably last a couple of days. Then it will slack up, and just when you're thinking it's all gone it will come back worse than ever. Fortunately we've got---- By Jove!"--and he ran hastily up the companion, unbolted the door and ran out on deck. The gale came whuffling down on the fire and scattered the white ashes in a cloud, and set the silken drapery of the walls rustling wildly. The shrill clamour of the birds sounded very close, and The Girl sat anxiously wondering. He came back in a minute, empty-handed and disconsolate. "I just remembered my fish. I left two up there for breakfast, but the birds have had them. They're as thick on the deck as bees on a comb, hoping for more." "Is that all? I was afraid that man was coming and you'd heard him." "It means living on pork till the storm passes." "That is nothing. We shall enjoy the other things all the more later on." "I'm wondering all the time how Macro is getting on----" he said, pulling out his pipe and filling it. "Why trouble about him? He would not trouble about us if we were starving." "I don't suppose he would.... I suppose it comes of my being so in the habit of helping people through their bodily troubles." "It is wasted on him. He would not let you help him if you could." "I don't believe he would, unless he were helpless.... I wish he'd never come ashore." "But in that case I would not be here either, and you would have been all alone for the rest of your life." "Then, after all, I'm glad he came ashore." "I wonder if you would have gone mad in time with the loneliness of it," she said musingly. "It would be horrible to be all alone for all the rest of one's life, but I don't think I would have gone mad. I've no doubt there are books to be found among the wreckage out there. Still ... for the rest of one's life!"--and he shook his head doubtfully. "As things are, however...." "As things are?" she queried, after waiting for him to finish. "As things are, I am quite content to stop here for the rest of my life, if that has to be. But that won't stop my doing my best to get away if the chance offers.... And you?" "If we were delivered from that man I could be content here also.... But I do not say for all my life. That sounds terribly long.... But for that man it would be a welcome retreat from a world of which I had had a surfeit." He wondered much if she were heart-whole. It seemed almost incredible to him that she could have lived that strange life of hers without some man wanting and touching it. So fair a prize, to go wholly unclaimed and undesired! But never, in all her talk, had she said one word that pointed to anything of the kind. Rather had she held up the men she had met to derogation and contempt. Surely, if there had been anyone to whom her heart turned and clung, some evidence of it would have shown itself. From all she had said, from all her little unconscious self-revelations, and the wholesome judgment he had formed of her in his own mind, he could well believe that, in that whirlpool of a world in which she had lived, she had come to hold most men in doubt and all at arm's length. And the thought was agreeable to him. When the slow day broke, dim and clangorous with the gale, they dallied over a meal, talking of many things to pass the time, and then went up on deck, and with a brandished stick he ridded the ship of the clustering birds. They shrieked threateningly and came swooping at him on the wings of the wind, with hungry beaks and merciless eyes. But here he was at home and would not suffer their invasion, and finally they gave it up and fled to the sandhills, cursing him shrilly as they went. "Oh, there's one gone downstairs," cried The Girl; and running down after it, he found a great black cormorant squawking fearfully round the cabin and dashing itself against the walls in its wild attempts at escape. At sight of him it grew frantic, but finally found its way out of the hatch again, almost upsetting The Girl in its passage, and then tore away to tell its fellows of the awful place it had been in, which smelt so good but was so much easier to get into than out of. Wulfrey had to open one of the lee ports and let the gale blow through to get rid of the smell of it, and then he went up again to The Girl. They watched the great rollers thundering on the beach beyond the spit, rocketing their white spume high into the grim black sky, and lashing over at times into the lake. And when he called to her to look the other way she watched with amazement sandhills of size melt away before her eyes and re-form themselves in quite different places. "But it is past words!" she cried into his ear. They stared long too at the 'Jane and Mary' of Boston, but saw no sign of life aboard of her except the birds that clustered there unmolested. "It is a most amazing place," she said, when they went down again, as she dusted the saltness out of her hair with her hand. "Is it often like this?" "Very often in the winter, I should fear. We've had our best weather since you came." "I don't think I want to live all my life here," she said dejectedly. "I love the sun." And he would dearly have liked to tell her that he did the same, but that for him she made more sunshine even than the sun itself. Instead, he prosaically set her to the making of more fishing-lines, in case of accident to the one they had, and he himself hammered away at more hooks, burning and ragging his fingers out of knowledge, but producing hooks of a kind somehow. XXXIX The gale slackened on the third day, and Wulfrey was actually relieved in his mind at the sight of Macro hurrying ashore on his raft, after fresh meat, and, from the fact of his buckets, water, which he had probably been too careless, or too drunk, to secure during the storm. For the thought of his possibly lying there alone and foodless had not been a pleasant one, good reason as he had for disliking the man. For themselves, he baited and cast his hooks, and landed half a dozen fish as fast as he could haul them out. Their fresh meat supply would have to wait until Macro went out to the wreckage and their minds could be at ease as to the safety of their headquarters. The sea outside was still too high for any possibility of his going that day, and fortunately, thanks to their new source of supply, they could wait with equanimity. Water they had caught in plenty in the buckets slung under the scuppers. "He's alive at any rate," said Wulfrey, when he went down to breakfast. "So much the worse for us," said The Girl. "He's been fasting, I should say, by the way he has gone off after rabbits. We ate our first ones raw, I remember." "Savages!" "Savage with hunger. We had had nothing to eat but shell-fish and sea-weed for days." "Horrible!--raw rabbit and sea-weed!" "We had no means of making fire, no shelter. We slept out on the sands, and were glad to be simply alive." "I'm truly thankful you had risen to a higher state before I came." "So am I. We were not good to look at. We were as men who had died out there among the dead ships' bones and been born again on this sandbank, lacking everything. Fortunately for us the years that had gone before had been unconsciously making provision for us, and here were houses ready-made and waiting, and out there more than we could use in a lifetime." They saw the mate return after a time with his supplies, and he never showed head again all day. Wulfrey let The Girl keep a look-out, and tried himself to get some sleep, in anticipation of the night-watch which he saw would be necessary. "He will probably go out to the pile tomorrow," he said. "He must be out of flour and probably of rum. Then we can take a run ashore ourselves. When he gets back he will probably be too tired to be up to any mischief." "I wish he would tame down and let us have peace, or else go and get himself killed," she said anxiously. "We can't go on like this for ever." "I'm afraid he won't oblige us either way. We can only hang on and hope for the best, and keep our eyes open." His watch that night passed undisturbed. In the morning, as he expected, Macro set off for the wreckage; and, taking some food with them, they went ashore for a long day's ramble. "It is good to feel the width of land under one again," said The Girl, fairly dancing with delight. "I am very grateful for the ship, but truly it is small and cramping." "Sandhills are good for play-time, but you'd miss the ship when bed-time came. It's cold work sleeping on the sand." "Almost as bad as sleeping on a broken mast. Which way shall we go? You are quite sure he has gone to the wreckage?" "Quite sure. I watched him out of sight. Besides, I am sure he had to go." "Then let us go the opposite way, as far as we can, and we'll stop out all day long and behave like children. I'm going to walk in the water," and she kicked off her shoes and lifted her blanket skirt and tripped along in the lip of the tide, and he did the same, enjoying her enjoyment. A watery sun shone feebly through a thin gray sky, the air was still heavy with moisture, the water in which they were walking was warmer than that of the lake. On that side, the island curved like the concave side of a great half-moon. The pale yellow sand stretched on and on as far as their eyes could reach. "I would like to bathe," said she exuberantly. "Wait till we get beyond the end of our lake, then you can take this side and I'll go across to the other. You won't go out too far? There may be under-currents that would carry you out." "I'll be very careful. And you must not come back for an hour... Oh, what are those? ... Dead men?" In a tiny dent in the long sweep of the curve, made by the sandhills running almost down to the water, were half a dozen dark objects lying on the dry sand and looking for all the world like dead bodies. He had never seen any jetsam of size on that side. The drive of the storms and drift of the currents landed everything on the western spits and banks. Still there was no knowing. "Wait here!" he said, and set off towards them. And she followed close at his heels. But before they had gone many paces, one of the bodies set itself suddenly in motion and began to shuffle towards the water. "Seals," said Wulf, who had never set eyes on a live one in his life, but had a general idea of what they were like. Before they could reach them, all had flopped away except one, which, when they drew near, raised its head and eyed them piteously and made an effort to rise. "It is sick or wounded," said Wulf. "Poor beast! Its eyes are like a woman's in----" He bethought himself and bit it off short. He had seen just such a look in many a woman's eyes. "We won't disturb her," he said, and led the way round to give her wide berth. "Oh--look! Oh, the little darling! How I would love to cuddle it!" whispered The Girl, for there, on the other side of Mrs Seal, with her front fins clasping it protectingly, was a late-born baby sucking away for dear life. The Girl's face was transfigured,--ablaze with intensest sympathy and the wonderful light of mother-love. The mother's eyes followed them anxiously, the fear in them died out as they backed slowly away, and she bent her head to her baby and seemed to say, "Thank you so much! You understand, and I am very grateful to you." "I _am_ so glad we saw them. I like the island better than ever I did before," said The Girl. "What a dear little thing it was! And she was just delightful," and all day long she kept referring to them and to her joy at the sight of them. They went on again, mile after mile, and whenever he glanced at her, her face was still alight with happiness, and unconscious smiles rippled over it in tune with her thoughts. So inborn and unfailing is the mother-feeling in all true women. "Now, if you wish to bathe, here is a good place. I will strike across to the other shore and will come back in about an hour. Don't go too far out!" and he strode away across the hummocks. Under cover of the nearest sandhill she loosed her slender garments, and sped like a sunbeam across the beach and into the water; and her face, as it came up from the kiss of the sea, was like a sweet blush-rose all beaded with morning dew, than which no fairer thing will you find. And as she swam and dived and splashed in the lucent green water, like a lovely white seal, her bodily enjoyment and her mental exhilaration flung wide her arms at times, as though she would clasp all Nature's joys to her white breast, and her eyes shone with a brighter light than had the mother-seal's, and a seal's eyes are deeply, beautifully tender and bright. She laughed aloud at times, though none but herself could hear it, in the pure physical joy of living and being so very much alive. She was happier than she had ever been in all her life before. And one time, as she lay afloat with her arms outspread, she looked up at the pale sun in the thin gray sky, and all inconsequently said, "Yes--he is good. He is good. He is good," and her face was golden-rosier than ever when she was conscious that she had said it aloud. She was sitting in the side of the sandhill, combing her hair with her fingers, when she heard his distant hail. And she climbed the hill and waved to him that he might come. "I don't need to ask if you enjoyed your bathe," he said, as he came up. "I can see it in your face." "It was delightful. I would like to bathe every day." "Two days ago?" he laughed. "No, days like this. Oh, it _was_ so good! And now I am hungry. Let us eat." So they sat in the wire grass of the hill-top and ate their frugal meal, she with her wonderful hair all astream, the ends spread wide to dry on the sand; and he, clean, and strong, and brown, as fine a figure of a man as she had ever met, though his raiment was nothing to boast of. And he said to himself, "She is the most wonderful girl I have ever seen. I would like to kiss her hair, her hands, her feet." And she, to herself,--"He is good. He is good. He is good." And, buried deep in both their minds, yet fully alive, was the thought that it might be that all their lives would have to be passed on that lean bank of sand--together. XL On their way back, Wulf lingered behind for a moment or two and came along presently with rabbits enough for their requirements, but did not obtrude them on her notice. "It has been a day of delight," she said, as they drew to their ship. "Let us do it again.... I wonder if that man has got home." "Not yet. I can see his raft on the spit. Just as well we're here before him." "If only he were not here at all----" "Even the original Paradise had its serpent." "This one cannot beguile this woman at all events." It was almost dark when they saw Macro's laden raft lumbering slowly across to the 'Jane and Mary.' "He won't starve," commented The Girl. "Nor go dry. I see at least half a dozen kegs there. He's making provision for bad weather. The gale may blow up again during the night. See the birds whirling about over there." "Will you have to watch again?" "Safer so, though the chances are the kegs will keep him quiet for a time. He's probably been on short allowance the last day or two." "It is monstrous that you should have to. I wish----" and the petulant stamp of her stout little brogue conveyed no suggestion of a blessing. "Time may work for us," he said quietly. "He is our thorn in the flesh----" "He's a whole axe if you give him the chance." "I won't, I promise you. I cannot afford to give him any chances," and she knew that in that his thought was wholly for her. Wulf dutifully patrolled his deck when it grew dark, though he acknowledged to himself that the precaution was probably unnecessary, for this night at all events. Still, he was there to protect The Girl and he would suffer no risks. It was possibly the distant sight of him, tramping doggedly to and fro in the wan moonlight, that set Macro's rum-heated passions on fire. Wulf heard him spating curses as he tumbled over on to his raft and came splashing across. He went quietly to the companion-way and closed the door, then picked up his axe and stood waiting, with a somewhat quickened heart at the thought that the next few minutes might end the matter one way or the other. "---- ---- ---- ---- you, you white-livered skunk! Come out and fight for her like a man if you want her," was the mate's rough challenge, supplemented by a broadside of oaths, as he drew near. Wulf stood looking quietly down at him. Words were sheer waste. "D'ye hear me? Come down an' fight it out like a' man, an' best man takes her, ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- you!" He bumped roughly against the side and picked up his axe. Curses foamed out of him in a ceaseless torrent, and he made as though he would come swarming over. "Keep off," said Wulf. "If you try to come aboard I'll cut you down." "Come down then and fight it out if you're half a man, ---- ---- ---- ---- you! What right have you to her, I'd like to know, ---- ---- ---- ---- ----!"--he picked up his oar and whirled it round at Wulf's head and it splintered on the hard-wood rail. "Get back to your ship, man, and don't make a fool of yourself," said Wulf. "I won't fight you. If you try to come on board here I'll make an end of you." "Ye skunk, ye! Ye ---- ---- ---- white-livered cowardly skunk!"--etc. etc. etc.--to all of which Wulf made no reply, which provoked the furious one more than any words he could have flung at him. He remained there, hurling abuse and invective at the steady-faced man up above, till the night air cooled the boiling in his brain. Then he seized his splintered oar and thrashed away home. Wulf quietly resumed his sentry-go, watched till all was quiet on the 'Jane and Mary,' and then went down. To his surprise The Girl was sitting by the fire. He had supposed her in bed, had hoped she was fast asleep and had heard nothing of the bombardment. "He has gone?" she asked. "Yes, he has gone home to bed. I was hoping you were asleep." "Asleep! ... And you did not kill him?" "He gave me no chance. He invited me on to his raft for a fight----" "I heard it all." "I'm sorry. He is hardly suitable for a lady's ears." "I feel myself a terrible burden to you." "But you are not. Very much the reverse. You are----" he began impulsively, and stopped short. It was too soon to tell all that she was to him. "I am a bone of contention. I bring you in peril of your life----" "And I thank God I am here to protect you. Now, take my advice and go to bed. I will bring my blankets and lie at the foot of the stairs here." XLI The next day passed without any sign of the mate, beyond the thin blue smoke that floated up from his hatchway. Wulf surmised that he was making up his leeway in the matter of food and drink, and would probably not be over-eager for battle for the time being. Nevertheless he relaxed no whit of his vigilance, and after watching on deck for half the night slept the rest at the foot of the companion-way as before. Contrary to his expectations, the gale did not work itself up again, but the sky was still low and dark and full of thin smoky clouds hurrying along towards the north-east, and he was not at all sure that they had done with it yet. On the following day, to their great satisfaction, Macro set off early for the wreckage, and when they had watched him out of sight they went ashore for a ramble, and to get water and fresh meat. The Girl must of course make straight for the place where they had met Mrs Seal and her baby, but, to her great disappointment, there was not a sign of them. "And I did so want to see them again," said she. "She would have known us by this time and not been afraid. Perhaps she would even have let me touch it." "They are much happier in the water," he said, with a smile, for her face made him think of a child who had lost its toy. She would not be satisfied till they had searched far along the shore, but nothing came of it, and she was disconsolate. The day was not cheerful and she would not bathe. They filled their buckets, and he caught some rabbits and they returned early to the ship. Her humours appealed to him, even though he could not possibly understand them completely. Everything she did, and the way she did it, and indeed everything connected with her, was coming to have a vital interest for him. He could not know how the anguished fear in that mother-seal's eyes had touched her heart, how she had yearned to pick up that sleek little baby and fondle it in her arms, how she had been hoping and longing to see them again, how great her disappointment had been. She felt bereft and went off early to bed. Wulf lay smoking and thinking till night fell, and then went up to do sentry. He paced the deck till midnight, saw no sign of movement aboard the 'Jane and Mary,' and went below and was soon sound asleep. He woke once with a start, believing he had heard a footstep. Then a ripple clop-clopped against the side of the ship and he lay down again satisfied. He was awakened again by a hand gripping his shoulder, and, starting up, found a ghostly white figure bending over him, and The Girl's voice in his ear, "There is something wrong. Can you not smell it?" For a moment he imagined her dreaming. Then his nose warned him that she was right. There was something unusual in the atmosphere. Even when their fire was no more than a heap of gray ashes with a golden core, and one of their lee ports was open, the faint, not unpleasant smell of wood smoke hung about the cabin. But this was quite different,--an acrid, pungent smell as of burning fat. He glanced at the fire and raked his mind for an explanation of it. "It is worse in my room," she said, and he went quietly to the sacred little passage off which her sleeping-apartment opened. Yes, it was worse there, and what it meant he could not imagine. "You have not been burning anything?" he asked. "Nothing. The horrid smell wakened me." He turned and ran up the companion-steps, with a vague idea that something in the hold might have caught fire, though how that could be was beyond him. There was nothing there but their reserve stores, and certainly nothing that could take fire of its own accord. Besides, it was two days since he had been down there, and he never took a light, as the hatch, when shoved askew, gave all that was needed. He fumbled the bolts of the little doors open, but the doors seemed jammed. He pushed. They remained firm. He made sure of the bolts again and put his shoulder to the doors. They resisted all his efforts. "Good Lord!" he said, in something of a panic. "What's all this?" He brushed hastily down past The Girl again, groped for his boots by the side of his blankets, pulled them on, and picked up his axe, with the certainty in his mind that something wrong was toward and it was as well to be fully armed. Then he smashed away at the woodwork till it was in fragments, and he could climb up through the bristling splinters and over an unexpected plank that had somehow got across the doors and prevented their opening. The first thing he saw when he got on deck was a faint glow about the main-hatch opening, and smoke pouring out of it. Running to it, a glance showed him a fierce fire roaring somewhere down below. A cry of dismay at his side told him that The Girl had scrambled up after him. "The buckets," he jerked, and she sped back, tearing skin and garment on the splintered doors, while he sought and found a length of rope. His voice was steady again, though his hands shook with agitation, as he slipped one end of the rope through the handle of the bucket and held the two ends, while the bucket hung in the bight and so could be released instantly by loosing one end of the rope. He filled both buckets and with a hasty, "Hand them down to me and fill again as I throw them up," lowered himself into the hold. The fire was burning fiercely against the after starboard bulkhead, which, as it happened, was the one nearest The Girl's sleeping-cabin. Their lighter stores had been moved from their usual places and heaped about it and were blazing furiously. The bulkhead itself was on fire, but had apparently only just caught. Wulf flung his first bucketful at it, and it answered with a hiss like a snarling curse, and showed a red-starred black blotch amid the crawling yellow flames. He tossed the empty bucket up on deck, and gave the bulkhead another dose with his second, and as he tossed that one up the first came dangling down filled again. "Good girl!" he shouted exultantly, to reassure her. "Plenty more! We shall do it all right," and the full buckets came dangling down as fast as he could empty them. A score or so of bucketfuls ended it, and he climbed up, black with smoke and streaked with steam and sweat, and very grateful to be in fresh air again. The night was just thinning towards the dawn. The Girl was sitting on the coaming of the hatch in a state of collapse, her wet garment clinging clammily about her, her head in her hands, her slender figure shaken with convulsive sobs. His anger boiled furiously at thought of the malice that had planned her suffering--her possible death. Love and pity swelled his heart for her. She looked so utterly forlorn and broken with the fight. "It is all right, dear!"--he could not help it, it slipped out in spite of him. "Come away down to the cabin. You are shivering. You are wet through and torn to pieces. You have done splendidly, but it was an upsetting piece of business all round. Come!" and he put his arm under hers and drew her up. She was so limp, however, that he had almost to carry her, and the feel of her unconscious sobs under his enfolding arm quickened his blood again. At the companion-doors he had to release her and go back for his axe. A stout plank had been cunningly bound against the doors by a rope tied round the companion. His lips tightened sternly as he chopped the rope through and the plank fell to the deck. He carried her gently down and laid her on his blankets, put some sticks on the fire and blew them into flame, and set on the kettle, which was fortunately full. By the time he had made some coffee and dashed it with rum, she had recovered herself and was sitting up in the blankets with one drawn closely about her. "That was an unnerving business," he said, as he handed her her cup. "I'm afraid you had the worst of it. You have a lot of scratches--and your hands! Oh, I am truly sorry----" "It was the rope," she said quietly, looking at the rasped rawness of them. "It was all horrible. How did it get on fire?" "It was a deliberate attempt on the part of that wretch to make an end of us." "No!"--and she gazed at him in blankest amazement. "Without doubt. He blocked our doors here with a plank and a rope, and then started the fire down in the hold." "Is such wickedness possible?" "To a madman living chiefly on rum anything is possible." "He deserves to die." "Richly. He deserves no mercy. The thought of cutting him down with an axe was horrible. But after this----" "There is no safety for us while he lives." "I'm afraid there isn't." Sleep, he knew, would brace her unstrung nerves better than any thing else, so, after bathing her hands in luke-warm water and anointing them with some of the rendered pork fat she kept for her cooking, he induced her to go and lie down in her bunk. Her other scratches she said she would attend to when she could see them properly. Then he went on deck and drew up a bucket of water and washed off his own stains, and afterwards smoked many pipes as he pondered the unpleasantly weighty subject of Macro. For that matters could go on like this was out of the question. XLII He had cakes made and breakfast all ready long before she came out of her room, still visibly feeling the effects of the night's proceedings. "I am stiff and sore all over," she said, lowering herself carefully to her seat on the floor. "And you?" "Sorer in mind than in body." "What will you do?" "I shall go over presently and tell him that now he must look out for himself. I will end him, the first chance I get, as I would a wild beast." "He will try to kill you on the spot." "He won't get the chance. I'll see to that." "I shall go with you." "No." "Yes, indeed. My heart would thump itself to pieces, waiting here all alone." "He is dangerous, and he has a vile tongue when it runs away with him----" "I do not care. It is no more dangerous for me than for you. No--no--no!"--as he was about to argue the matter,--"I cannot be left behind," and nothing he could say could move her. They saw no sign of life on the 'Jane and Mary,' not so much as a whiff of smoke from the companion-hatch. "Perhaps he fled when he saw his horrid scheme had failed," suggested The Girl hopefully. "Not very likely, I'm afraid, but we can go across and see. Won't you be good now and take my advice----" "I'll be good, but I won't stop here alone." So perforce he took her with him on the raft, and paddled quietly across to the other ship. But before they reached it she lifted a warning finger for him to stop paddling and listen. And on their anxious ears there broke the strangest medley of sounds conceivable, and chilled them in the hearing. Wild bursts of laughter, cut short by yells of rage or sudden screams, as of one in mortal fear,--hoarse shouts, torrents of oaths, dull flailing blows which sounded like fists on wood, and, through it all, the never-ceasing yells and screams. "He has gone mad," panted The Girl, very white in the face, and looked at him with wide anxious eyes. "Delirium tremens,"--with an understanding nod. "He could stand more than most, but a man cannot live on rum alone," and he paddled slowly towards the ship, his face knitted with doubts as to what he should do. He was in two minds. If he left the man to himself he would inevitably die in the end, for he had unlimited liquor on board and would turn to it at once, like a hog to its mire, as soon as this bout ran its course. On the other hand, every fragment of professional instinct in him impelled him to the rescue. Never in his life had he withheld aid from one in extremity. And yet it seemed monstrously absurd--to drag a man back from death solely for the purpose of letting him do his best to kill you, the first chance that offered. And he had more than himself to think for. Suppose he saved this wretched man, and was worsted by him later on, what of The Girl? She would have reason enough to blame his pusillanimity, and he himself would curse it with his last breath. But was it fair fighting--to see your enemy in a hole and make no effort to save him? Old-time Chivalry would never even have argued the matter. It would have helped the enemy out, handed him his weapons, and courteously awaited the renewal of the combat. Ah--times were changed.... And this man was compound of treachery and malice. Thoughts such as these whirled through his brain before he had covered the short space to the other ship. "Wait here!" he said to The Girl, and climbed through the well-known hole in the side,--and she followed him close in spite of his frowning objection. She had not come thus far to be out of the critical moment. He ran down to the cabin, and went straight to the mate's door. The dreadful sounds,--the shouts and yells and cries of fear, the furious oaths, the wild thumping blows--filled the cabin with horrors. Even in that anxious moment The Girl was cognisant of a dreary, dirty, repulsive look about it which had not been there before. It was more like the den of a wild beast than a living-room. Some of the silken hangings were torn down, the one or two that were left hung by single pegs. It looked as though a maniac had chased his mad fancies round the room and sought them behind the draperies. Wulf, gripping his axe, opened the door into the passage, looked in, then went in. And The Girl drew near, to be at hand in case of need, and stood shuddering. "Keep off! Keep off, ye blank-eyed deevils! ---- ---- ----! Wi' your bloody beaks and tearing claws.... Keep off! Keep off ---- ---- ---- ye!" and the black fists, all bruised and bleeding, whirled and struck at the roof and sides of the bunk as he fought the birds the rum had bred in his brain. Then, as they beat him down in a pestiferous crowd, he gave a shrill scream and doubled himself over in a heap in his bunk, with his hands clasped over his head to save it from their attacks. Then up again, shouting and fighting for dear life, and down flat again with a scream, cowering in uttermost extremity of terror, while oaths dribbled out of him like water out of a spout. Wulf came out and closed the door, and pushed her brusquely up the stairs to the deck. "You should not have come down," he said sternly. "This is no place for you," and then, seeing how white her face was, he added more gently, "There is no danger--except to him. He is fighting for his life with the birds. I can do nothing for him--except get rid of all his rum. He would turn to it the moment he comes round, and it is poison in his present state." He went down again and rooted about everywhere, found two kegs in the cabin under the torn hangings, and another in Macro's room, with a spigot in it. He carried them up on deck, staved in the heads with his axe, and emptied them overboard. In the main-hold he found three more and did the same with them. "When he gets through, his throat will be like a lime-kiln. There is a bucket of water down there. I will put in it the coffee we left from breakfast and leave it in his cabin. It will be the best thing for him if he will drink it. But he'll be crazy for rum---- I'll take you back and get the coffee. I'm sorry you came." There was strong disapproval in his tone, but she did not resent it. After all, his thought was entirely for her in the matter. "You're sure he won't fly at you?" she asked anxiously. "He's much too busy with the birds. Besides, I shall not touch him or speak to him. It is best to leave him to himself. We will leave some food by him also," and she obediently let herself down before him on to the raft. "It does seem absurd----" she began impulsively, as they joggled along. "To keep him alive so that he may try again to kill us,"--he nodded. "I know. But there it is, as the country-folk say. However, he won't live long if he keeps on at the rum. As soon as he gets better he'll go straight out to the pile to get more, unless he's too weak. It's terribly wasteful work, what he's at, and no food to work on." "Whether it's wrong or not, I cannot help wishing he would die," she said passionately. "It is too dreadful." "I don't want his blood on my hands if I can help it," he said briefly. But he felt as she did. XLIII After carrying supplies to the mate, he came back for her, and they went ashore for fresh water, and he providently secured a couple more rabbits. The Girl was very quiet, depressed, and very unlike her usual bright self. But he was not surprised. Her anxiety for the future was enough to account for it, and there was, besides, the reaction from the strenuous upsetting through which they had just passed. Each morning he went across to see how the sick man was getting on, and she let him go alone, but followed him with anxious eyes, and stood in the bows watching till she saw him safely on his way back. On the third day they took advantage of the enemy's enforced inactivity to go out to the pile and make good the losses caused by the fire. And all the time they were away The Girl was in a state of dire anxiety lest he should have discovered their absence and got across and fired their ship. But to her great relief it was there all right when they got back, and showed no signs of visitation. On the fourth morning Wulf found his patient sufficiently recovered to be spoken to plainly as to the future, and he did not mince matters. While he spoke, the mate lay watching him through almost closed eyes, just one narrow line between the heavy lids catching the light from the port and imparting a singularly sinister look to the haggard face. The veiled eyes watched him cautiously, charged with what?--suspicion? hatred? treachery? All these, Wulf imagined. But they gave no sign. They were like the eyes of a snake, of a caged beast being rated by its keeper. "Your dastardly attempt on us failed," said Wulf, to the steely glint of the black soul behind the narrowed lids. "And now,--understand! You are outside the pale. Leave us alone and we leave you alone. Interfere further with us and I will kill you as I would a dangerous beast. Now you are warned, and your blood be on your own head." The other made no sign. The narrow gleam of the dark eyes out of the rigid impassivity of the dark face was more bodeful than a torrent of curses. As he left the ship, Wulf picked up and took with him the only two axes he could find. Magnanimity had its limits, but it was wasted here. "Well?" asked The Girl anxiously, when he returned. "He is almost himself again, but very much weakened of course. I have given him final warning that if he molests us further I shall kill him." "It would have been simpler to let him die." "Simpler--yes, but I could not bring myself to it. We'll fight him fair if fight we must." The weather still kept dull and gray and heavy, with a reserve of menace and malice in it akin to that of the mate. The sky was veiled with ever-hurrying clouds. The sea was smooth, with something of treachery in its sullen quietude, as though it were only biding its time to break out again and do its worst. The following morning, to their surprise, they saw Macro start out early for the wreckage. And Wulf, watching him grimly, said, "He's after his poison. And now he'll probably drink himself to death. It's amazing the hold it takes on a man. He won't trouble us much longer." They spent the day ashore, but the vivacity and enjoyment of that other day were awanting. Perhaps it was the cheerless weather,--the physical and mental strain of these later days,--the thought that their devil was loosed again,--anyhow, a subtle sense of foreboding. Whatever it was it weighed upon their spirits, and a long tramp up the beach, in forlorn hope of meeting Mistress Seal again, did not succeed in raising them. "What is it, I wonder?" said The Girl. "Something is going to happen, I know. I have felt like this before, and always something dreadful has followed." "But you never knew what, beforehand? Perhaps you have the gift of prevision,--the second sight." "I may have, but it doesn't go so far as to explain things. I just feel anxious for it to be over and done with." "What?" "What's coming, whatever it is." "We must be extra careful for a time, till you are sure the trouble is past," he said, with a smile, but he felt the weight on his spirits as she did. Physically, however, their long tramp did them good, and they returned home with famous appetites. "I wonder if he's back yet," said The Girl, as they were paddling to the ship. There was no doubt as to where her fears centred. "I don't see the raft. We'll see better from the deck," and when they had climbed aboard they looked at once towards the spit and saw the mate's raft still lying there. He was not back yet. They ate, and rested, and until the darkness swallowed the spit, the raft still lay there. "He's staying late," said Wulf. "Maybe he's broached a keg and taken too much. It would be what I would expect from him under the circumstances." He patrolled the deck, after she had gone to bed, listening for the sound of the mate's oar. But he heard nothing, and at last made up his mind that the fellow had probably waited too late and had made himself snug out there for the night, though, for himself, the idea would not have commended itself. There was little danger, however, of his coming across in the dark, so he went down and slept soundly at the foot of the companion-steps. All the next day they were on the look-out for him, but he did not come. Wulf had told her of his idea that he had probably found means of passing the night out there, in which case he would no doubt put in another long day rooting for treasure. So that it was not until night had fallen again, and the raft still lay waiting on the spit, that he decided in his own mind that something was wrong. "I shall go across to the pile in the morning to find out," he said, as they sat by the fire. "I shall go with you." "I would very much sooner you stopped here." "And suppose it was all a trick on his part. He may be hiding in the sandhills. He would watch you go and then come out on me. No," with a very decided shake of the head, "I go with you." So, in the morning, they set off, walked along the spit to the western point and waded and swam to the wreckage, keeping a keen look-out for first sight of the mate. "Those hideous birds!" panted The Girl, as the skirling, squabbling crew swooped and hovered over the far end of the pile. "We'll keep as far away from them as possible," and they crept up at a distance, and he proceeded to make a raft, since a supply of further stores was needed to make good their losses by the fire. So far they had come upon no signs of Macro. From the top of the pile they looked carefully all round, but beyond the usual smashed boxes and cases there was nothing to show that he had ever been there. "Where on earth can he have got to?" said Wulf. "Perhaps he's fallen into the sea, or down into some crack," said The Girl, not unhopefully. "It is always possible. He might not recognise how the fever had pulled him down." They loaded their raft without any interference from the birds, beyond the blood-curdling clamour of their angry disputations. They were quite ready to go, but still the whereabouts of the mate was a mystery, and Wulf was loth to leave it at that. He might be lying broken in some crack. If he had come to some sudden end it would be best to know it, if that were possible, so that their fears--on their own account as well as his--might be at rest. On the other hand it was quite impossible to rake over the whole pile. That would be a good month's work. A grim idea shot suddenly into Wulf's mind, as he stood looking keenly round from the highest point he could clamber up to. It came at sight of the birds whirling and clamouring round the end of the pile. Suppose ... oh,--horrible! ... yet it might very well be. "What is it?" asked The Girl anxiously, for his lips and face had tightened ominously at his thought. "Nothing, maybe. I'm going over there to see...." "Can you see anything of him?" "No." He poled the raft along the edge of the pile towards the hovering cloud of birds. "Now, I'm going to swim along here and climb up. I want to see what they're at. You will be quite safe here." She glanced at him with a startled look, fathoming his grim thought instantly, and it blanched her face for a moment. "They may turn on you," she jerked. "They seem too busy." He let himself down into the water and swam noiselessly along the side of the pile, and she stood watching anxiously. When he reached the outskirts of the whirling cloud he found a sodden crack, and drew himself in, and disappeared from her sight. Her heart kicked till it felt like choking her. Her face was strained, her eyes wide and fearful. She felt horribly alone. Inside his niche, Wulf climbed cautiously, the curdling clamour very close. Now and again a feathery fiend with eyes like glass and reddened beak swooped past his hiding-place, with a shrill cry of warning to the rest at sight of him, or it might be of invitation. He got his eyes above the top at last, in spite of pointed attentions from angry outsiders, scanned the spot where the shrieking crew centred most thickly, and dreamed of what he got a glimpse of there for weeks afterwards. ---- The remnants of what had been a man, all pecked and scratched and torn to shreds,--white, clean-picked bones showing through fragments of his clothing, myriads of squawking birds, of all shapes and sizes, clustered on it like bees on a comb, hustling and fighting one another with shrill screams and thrashing wings and red beaks. It was only when, through some unusually bitter struggle, the mass writhed and rose for a moment, only to settle more closely the next, that he could see. Not far from the body was a broached keg which the birds had overturned in their strife. It explained everything to him. He dropped back down his cleft, sick at the sight, grateful for the clean feel of the water. He plunged his head under and spat out the feeling of it all. Then he made his way quietly back to The Girl, and she had no need to ask what he had found. He nodded, and climbed up on to the raft and pushed quickly away. "You are sure he is dead?" she asked, after a time. "Horribly dead," and told her no more till later, and then not very much. "It is strange to think of it all," he said, in conclusion. "He always feared the birds. In his delirium it was the birds he was fighting. And the birds got him at last." The manner of his death shocked and horrified them. But the knowledge that the menace of him had passed out of their lives was untellable relief. BOOK IV LOVE IN A MIST XLIV The effect of the mate's death on The Girl's spirits was visible at once. The cloud had lifted from her face before they got fairly home. Her eyes shone untroubled, though a look of horror and disgust came into them whenever they rested on the swirling gray cloud behind them. In her very movements Wulf noticed a new and gracious freedom. And his judgment did her no injustice in the matter, nor imputed it, in any slightest degree, to mere exultation over a fallen enemy. For he knew to the full in what terror of the dead man she had lived, and how the fear of him, both for herself and himself, had lain like a weight on her soul and darkened all her outlook. He felt as she did about it. He could not regret the fact of the man's death, but the manner of it gave him poignant distress. In spite of their hard work they had neither of them much appetite for food that night. They turned in early and slept as they had not slept for long, without fear and without strain. The darkness was no longer pregnant with ungaugeable terrors. The dawn was like the beginning of a new life to them. Wulf, indeed, saw again that night, and many a night thereafter, the horror of the clustering birds and that over which they bristled and fought. But he woke each time to the immeasurable relief of the man's death. That had been essential to their own safety, but he thanked God with his whole heart that it had not been by his hand that he had had to die. For that he never could be sufficiently grateful. He had played him fair and more than fair. He was dead, and their consciences and their hearts were alike at rest. They woke next morning to the close folding of the mist, and he had to set to work at once making good the broken companion-doors to keep it out of the cabin as much as possible. Being but a poor carpenter, the only way he could do this was by nailing a blanket to the top of the hatch and pegging it down tightly to the top step. But he foresaw that the next gale would blow his stop-gap to pieces and destroy their comfort below. So did the dead man's deeds live after him, and it was not the only one. They were sitting at their mid-day meal, when the thick silence of the mist outside was rent by a shrill frightened scream right above their heads, and almost simultaneous with it a heavy thump, and then, on the deck above them, blows and screams and the sound of some large body tumbling to and fro. The Girl sprang up with a white face and scared eyes and a word of dismay. Wulf picked up his axe and burst through his carefully adjusted blanket at the top of the companion. Then she heard the chop-chop of his axe on the deck, and the fall of something into the water, and he came down laughing at the start it had given him also. "It was the biggest bird I ever saw," he said. "It had banged itself against the mast, I think, and was flopping all over the place. I chopped its head off and pitched it overboard. It must have measured six feet at least from tip to tip of its wings. It gave you a start." "I was just thinking of that man and how different everything was now he is gone, and then that horrid scream----" "Yes, it was enough to make anyone jump." "It seemed to me for a moment that it was his spirit come back to trouble us still, as he had done while he lived." "It won't come. Unless it's got inside a bird, as he always said. You must try to forget all about him." "It is not easy. But, whether it is wicked of me or not, I thank God he is dead." "And I thank God that he did not die by my hand. I shall never cease to be thankful for that." "We shall never be able to build a boat now," she said presently, following out the natural train of her thought. "I'm afraid not,"--with a doleful shake of the head. "Unless you have had any experience in such things." "And so we may have to pass the rest of our lives here." "It is better to consider how very much worse off we might be. For myself.... Besides, one never knows. Some unexpected chance may turn up." "And you can bear to think of living on and on and on here till--the end?" "I can bear to think of it very much better than I could a short time ago.... No cloud is black on both sides. Look on the bright side. Either of us might have been here alone. That would have been terrible----" "I should have been dead." "But instead of that we are two, we have comfortable shelter, the mighty blessing of fire, food enough to last us as long as we live---- "It sounds like that man in the Bible--the man who had his barns full, all he wanted to eat and drink, and so he made merry. And that night he died, if I remember rightly." "We are not boasting. We arrived here lacking everything, and everything has been provided for us. We have reason to be grateful. Even Macro was necessary. He showed us how to turn the wreck-pile to account. If I had come ashore alone I doubt if I would ever have gone out to it again. It did not attract me.... And--he found you and brought you ashore." "And that was the beginning of the end." "No--the beginning of better things. We will hope the end is a long way off yet." "I wonder ... and what it will be," said she thoughtfully. And he wondered if in her heart there was any sweet white seed of hope akin to that which was striking its roots so deeply in his own,--and if not, if it might be possible to plant it there. XLV This new life, free from the shadow of perpetual menace, was full of rare and delicate charm for both of them, differing only in quality and degree according to that wherewith Nature had endowed them. One root-thought was inevitable to both their minds--that here were they two, cut off from the rest of the world, probably for the term of their natural lives. Here, as far as they could foresee, they two must live, alone,--together; and here, in the end, they must die; their living and their dying alike unseen and unknown except by their Maker. In his heart the white seed of the greater hope was striking deep and strong, filling his whole being with a new and exquisite delight before even it had had time to shoot and flower. Exile for life on that barren strip of sand, which with Macro as sole fellow-sufferer would have been barely tolerable, assumed a very different aspect with Avice Drummond as his companion; and with her as sole companion, an aspect of supremest joy and expectation. It was no longer a thing to look forward to with foreboding, or at best with dull and hopeless acquiescence in the inevitable. The shadow had suddenly lifted. The desert had suddenly blossomed like the rose. The future smiled shyly as does the dawn with promise of the day. But this new great hope, and the sense of it all in him, were of so fine and delicate a nature that he hardly dared to whisper it even in his inmost heart, lest she should see some sign of it and take fright, and all his hope vanish like smoke in a gale. She was so fair and sweet, so charming and gracious, so pre-eminently and perfectly desirable. It was highest and keenest delight--delight so keen that at times it had in it the elements of pain--simply to watch the play of her face, so eloquently responsive to the quick emotional soul within,--the large dark eyes so clear and frank, so unreservedly trustful of him. He would sooner die than forfeit one iota of the honour her faith conferred on him. And that great springing hope of his must be carefully covered and concealed, until such time as he should discover in her eyes the outlook of a hope responsive. It would come. It would come, he said to himself--in time--when she should have come to know him still better and to trust him still more fully--to the uttermost. For the ultimate goal of his desire was, in the manner of its possible attainment at all events, somewhat nebulous to him, though it set the whole distant future ablaze with rosy fires. In the nature of things, circumstanced as they were, such ultimate attainment, if ever it were reached, could be reached only by the treading of unusual ways. And to require that of any girl--and especially of a girl such as this, high-born, intelligent beyond most, and deeply versed in the great world's ways--was asking of her more than any true man, truly loving, could bring himself to ask,--unless to both their hearts no other thing were possible,--unless the barrier of Circumstance left no other possible hope or way. And for the proving of that, Time held the keys and must have his say. He wondered often, and with keenest anxiety, if her heart could possibly have come through all the strange experiences of her previous life unchallenged, unassailed, unwon. Seeing that she was what she was it seemed to him almost impossible. She was to him so compact of goodness and beauty, so fashioned to bewitch, that he could not imagine any man impervious to her grace and charm. What manner of men could they be who, consorting with her daily and on terms of equality, had failed to capture a heart so made for loving? He recalled in minutest detail all she had told him of her past life and friends and acquaintances, figured them all in his mind, weighed them jealously in the scales of his own devotion, and could not discover one trace of emotion towards one or another, but rather of aversion towards all. Again and again she had expressed the joy she had felt at the prospect of her escape to a freer and larger life. It was, of course, not impossible that that feeling might but hide some heart-breaking disappointment of the earlier times. But he did not think so. She was to him truth personified, though still a woman. He believed in her absolutely, as a man should in the woman who holds his heart. So far as assurance could go,--without the definite question which he longed to put but did not yet dare, lest the hopeful anxiety of his present state should be turned to hopeless regret,--he felt fairly safe in building on a rosy future. How she regarded himself he could not surely say. But she trusted him and that was a good foundation for his building. And she? Well, that is our story! XLVI That thick white bank of mist clung to them for the best part of a week. But, freed from all fear of treacherous assault, it troubled them little. Once they had to go ashore for water, but got back safely by means of their guiding-line, and as they pushed through the fog they recalled that former time, when the mate's grim figure fashioned itself suddenly out of the clammy whiteness and brought them near to a disastrous end. For the rest they had no scarcity. The fish bit as well in the fog as in the clear, and they had pork and flour for weeks to come. In their narrow confinement to the ship, their intimacy and knowledge of one another grew with the days. She talked well, and he was an excellent listener, and led her on and on to tell him of the past and all that had interested her in it, and mused on all she said, and sought in it enlightenment as to her heart's freedom or otherwise. Once, when she had been roving at length through her earlier days, she broke off suddenly with, "But, mon Dieu, I am doing all the talking! Now, tell me of yourself!" "I have so little to tell compared with you. Shall I tell you of school-days--of college--of the hospitals--of my patients and their ailments?" "Tell me why you left it all to seek the new life." "For very much the same reason as you did, I imagine. I was living in a groove and I wanted something wider and larger." "And now you are sorry." "So very sorry that if I had the chance again, and knew beforehand all that was to come, I would jump at it like the fish to our hooks," as he hauled one aboard and knocked it an the head. "And you?" "Ye--es, I think I would have come also. Not perhaps if I had known I would have to float about on that mast. It was so terribly cold,"--with a shiver. "For the rest, I have no regrets, but it is perhaps too soon to say. In ten years hence I may have come to be sorry." "Ay--ten years hence!" he said musingly. "Many things may happen in ten years. There's a fish on your hook," and she hauled it in and let him dispose of it. As they sat at supper that night the blanket which supplied the place of companion-doors began to flap, and, going up to look, he found the mist whirling away before a gusty breeze. "It's going to blow," he told her, "and when it's blown itself out we may have a spell of fine weather again," and he proceeded to block the opening with some planks he had chipped to size as well as he could with his axe. The wind was rising rapidly, and before they turned in for the night the birds had all come in and were whirling and screaming round the ship, and lighting on it as was their custom in bad weather. But they had grown accustomed to their clamour and both slept soundly. Wulf was shaken back to life in the dead of the early morning by a restive jerk of the ship at her rusty anchor-chain, followed by a momentary sense of the unusual. And while he lay sleepily considering the matter, his bunk heeled slowly over--over--over, and rolled him right against the side of the ship. The sound of a heavy fall, somewhere beyond, made him scramble out very wide awake, full of wonder, but dimly perceptive of what must have happened. The rusty chain had evidently parted, the ship had drifted ashore broadside on, and the force of the wind had caused her to heel over. The sound he had heard was, he feared, of Miss Drummond's falling out of her bunk. He flung on some clothes and clawed his way out to the cabin. The floor of it was tilted up at such an angle that he had to claw his way up by the side wall as best he could. "Are you hurt?" he cried, outside The Girl's door. "Bruised a bit. Whatever has happened?" "The cable has parted and we're ashore on our beam-ends. No danger, I think." "I'll be out in a minute." Then he became aware of a smell of burning, and found that the sand hearth with its core of fire had slid downhill and was smouldering among the silken draperies, which were beginning to break into flame. He crawled back and tore them down and bunched them tightly together, then scooped up handfuls of sand and smothered every cinder he could see. Miss Drummond's door opened just as he had finished. "Stop where you are," he cried. "I'll come up for you. Everything's on the slope. I think we'd better sit on the floor and let ourselves down by degrees." Outside, the wild screaming of the birds mingled eerily with the rush and howl of the gale. It was still quite dark. He could not see her, but groped about till he felt her blankets, then found her hand and eased her carefully down the slope, and they crouched side by side in the angle made by the floor and the side of the ship. "Will she go down?" she asked quietly. "Oh, no. No fear of that. We're aground. But whether she'll ever come straight again I don't know. Did it pitch you out of your bunk?" "Yes. I woke with a crash on the floor, and could not imagine what had happened." "I hope you didn't break yourself." She was silent for a moment and then said, "I'm afraid I did break something, but I couldn't----" "Broke something? What?" he asked hastily. "My arm feels numb and queer. I fell on it." "Let me feel it," and, kneeling in front of her, he groped till he found it, and felt it with anxious gentle fingers. "Good Lord, it's broken!" "I'm sorry, but I couldn't help it. You see"---- "Your right arm too! Don't move it!" He groped about for another length of the silken hangings, tore it down, and wound it tightly round her arm. "That will keep it in place," he said. "The moment it is light I will make splints and set it properly. I am truly sorry you should have suffered so." "Better me than you. It might have been worse. What made that chain break, I wonder? We've had worse storms than this." "It was bound to give sooner or later. It was very old and rusted. Its time came, I suppose, and it went. Sure you have no other damages?" "Only bumps and bruises. I felt as if the side of my face were crushed in, but I don't think it is." "Were you in the top bunk?" "Yes. I liked to look out of the window in the mornings." "That's a good big fall to take unawares." "Yes, I fell out like a sack and woke on the floor. What shall we do if she doesn't come right side up again? We can't live all upside down like this." "There's always the other ship to fall back on ... unless her chain's broken too." "I like our own much the best." "But not if she stops like this.... And even if she straightened up she would heel over again in the next gale. I'm afraid we'll have to move." "I shall always see that man's black face about the cabin, glaring at me as he used to do as if he wanted to eat me." "If we have to go we'll give it a good cleaning, and fresh hangings, and make it to your taste." So they chatted quietly, while the gale and the birds shrieked in chorus outside, and the waves of the lake thumped scornfully on the exposed bottom of the ship. As soon as he could see, he rooted about for axe and knife, and chopped up a board and made a set of splints for her arm. And, though he grieved for the pain she must have suffered, he could not but feel a huge enjoyment in ministering to her. The mere touch of her firm white flesh was a rare delight and made his fingers tingle. He did his best to think of her only as a patient, but found it impossible. She was so very much more to him than any ordinary patient ever had been or could be. But for her suffering, he felt inclined to bless the breaking of the rusty cable. It brought them closer than ever before. It threw her more than ever on to his care. With her right arm prisoner she would be able to do but little for herself. She had not been able to dress herself properly, but had simply swathed a blanket about her night attire, leaving the broken arm free. But even so, her natural taste and capability had so arranged it, even in the darkness and moment of danger, that she looked like a Greek goddess, he said to himself, with one arm in a sling. One can make allowances for him. As the light grew stronger he saw, to his distress, that her face had also suffered sorely in her fall. The whole right side was badly bruised and discoloured. "Is it very bad?" she asked, as she saw him looking at it. "It feels sore and my head hums like a bee-hive." "You got a bad bump there. I will get some salt water and bathe it. Our fresh will all be gone in the upset, but I'll sling a bucket under the scupper-hole and we'll have enough for some coffee presently. When you've had some breakfast you will go and lie down in my bunk. If you could get a good sleep it would be the very best thing for you. Does the arm hurt much?" "Not so much as it did, but I don't think I can sleep." "You will when you lie down. You've had a bad shaking up. I'm truly sorry that all the penalties have fallen on you." "It's a good thing you didn't break yourself too. Suppose we'd broken all our arms!" and she laughed a wry little laugh. He crawled up the slope, and wormed himself through his barricade, and came back presently with a bucketful of water, found a piece of soft linen and insisted on bathing her face, under plea that she would joggle the broken arm if she tried to do it herself. Then he scraped together at the foot of the slope sand enough for a small hearth, split some wood and kindled a fire, but found it necessary to open one of the ports to leeward to let out the smoke. When he did so he found the water within a foot of it and could only hope they would heel over no more. He proceeded to make cakes and coffee, and then fried some salt pork, and anointed the bruised face with the fat of it, and she found it soothing. When he had cut up her meat for her, and she had managed to eat a little, he helped her into his bunk, the upper one because it was airier and allowed more head-room, and covered her with blankets and told her to go to sleep. And then, since there was nothing more to be done, he crawled up the slope and got her blankets off the floor of her room, and made up a bed for himself in the angle at the foot of the slope. He lay for a time listening to the gale, and pondering the possibility of its doing them any further damage, and fell asleep with the matter still unsettled. XLVII When he awoke it was close on mid-day, unless his appetite misled him. He prepared another meal and then tapped gently on The Girl's door. Receiving no answer he peeped into the dim little room and found her still sleeping soundly, her head in the crook of her left arm, from which the wide sleeve of her night-dress had slipped down,--as fair a picture as man could wish to look upon, in spite of her bruised face and broken arm. He stood watching her for a moment with bated breath, and recalled that first morning when she came ashore and he had doubted if he could recover her; and he thanked God again for the dogged obstinacy which would not let him accept defeat so long as smallest hope remained. She moved, opened her heavy eyes, and lay quietly looking at him, just as she had done that other time, and for a brief space there was no more recognition in them than there had been then. "What is it? Who are you?" she asked, and he suffered a momentary shock. But for reply he laid his cool strong hand--rougher than it used to be, but vitally sensitive to the feel of her--on the broad white forehead, and found it hot and throbbing. That did not greatly surprise him. There was sure to be a certain feverishness after such an experience. And he would have given much for five minutes' root round his old dispensary. He had nothing,--nothing but common sense, and his professional knowledge, and Nature's simplest remedies. He went out quietly and got cold water and soft linen, and bathed the throbbing forehead and then laid the wet bandage on it. "That is nice," she said softly. "What a trouble I am to you!" "Oh, frightful!" he smiled, as he changed the cloth for a fresh one. "You see how I resent it. Has the arm been hurting?" "It hurts at times, but my head is the worst, and I feel bruised all over." "But no more breakages?" he asked anxiously. "I don't think so, just bruised and stiff and sore." He hesitated for a second. She was so very much more to him than simply a patient. "Will you let me remind you that I am a doctor? The very best cure for all that is gentle rubbing. If you will allow me I will undertake to reduce the pains by one half." "Then please do, Doctor, for I ache in every bone." And he drew off all her blankets but one, and through it proceeded to massage the aching limbs, and had never in his life found greater enjoyment in his work. He even ventured to treat the throbbing head in the same way, drawing his fingers soothingly over the white forehead and up into the masses of her hair. "There is virtue in your fingers," she murmured drowsily, and before he had done she was sleeping soundly again. Then he laid another wet cloth on her forehead and left Nature to do her share in the good work. It was fortunate that she had little appetite for the next few days. The cakes he made for her, and water, scrupulously boiled and cooled and flavoured with coffee, amply satisfied her; and he, himself lived on pork, fish and fresh meat being unobtainable. For four days the gale bellowed round them, but being to leeward, and protected somewhat by the heeling of the ship, they felt it less than if they had been on an even keel, and it never kept The Girl from sleeping. Much of that time Wulf spent in an endeavour to obtain salt from sea water, the lack of it being one of their greatest deprivations. As the result of many boilings and the careful scraping up of the slight encrustations on his pans, he managed to get a little, and exultantly let The Girl taste it as a great treat; but it was a long and slow process. The default of her right arm made her very dependent on him in many little ways, but never was service more tactfully rendered or more delighted in by the servitor. And every service, so rendered and accepted, made for increased knowledge on both sides, and so for closer intimacy. Never, in all her contact with the greater world, had she met any man in whom she felt such implicit confidence as in this man. Never, since that first time her wondering eyes met his, when his strenuous exertions had dragged her back from the dead, had he by word or deed or look, raised one shadow of fear or mistrust in her mind. In everything, to the extremest point of death itself, he had proved himself a simple, brave, and honest gentleman. And as she lay there helpless, with the gale howling outside and the broken waves of the lake clop-clopping in the strakes under her ear, she had much time to think of him and all he had done and was doing for her, and all her thought was warm and grateful. "I am a dreadful burden to you," she would say. "And you are very very good to me." And he would answer her, with the smile she liked to provoke, "But for your suffering in the matter I would tell you how grateful I am to that rotten chain for giving me the opportunity. I count it a privilege as well as a pleasure." And when he had left her, she would think at times how it might have been with her if it were not this man but the other with whom she had been left alone. And she would shiver at the thought, and then remember that if the other had been alone she would not have been there, for he could never have drawn her back from the dead as this one had done. And she thought also at times of their fight with the other in the fog, and followed that idea up and shivered still more. For if the mate had killed this man it would indeed have gone hard with her. Ay, she had much to be thankful for, and thankful she was. And as to the future.... It was all vague and dim, as the future always must be, but she had no fear of it, because she trusted this man so perfectly. Vague and dim it might be, but it was shot with rosy gleams. Whatever he might ask of her she would hold it right because he asked it. She had found him worthy. She would trust him completely, ask what he might. Yes, ... ask ... what ... he ... might. XLVIII "The sun's coming out," was his cheerful announcement, one morning when he came in with her breakfast. "And here's some fish for you at last." "The sight of it makes me hungry." "That's the best news you've given me for four days. There's some salt for you in payment," he said, with full pride of accomplishment. "Salt is a great treat. Have you left any for yourself?" "Oh, I've got some. I'm going to set up a regular salt factory as soon as you're about again." "I would like to get up and go on deck when I've had breakfast. Surely the ship is not so tilted as it was." "Not quite so bad, but I'm afraid it will never come quite right side up again. It's hard and fast on the shore at present. I could wade across." "I must see it. I will get up as soon as I have had my breakfast." "Can you manage?" he asked doubtfully. "You must keep that arm quiet, you know." "I'll try anyway. If I get stuck I will call," and in due course she called, and he found that she had managed to get her blankets round her, and that as gracefully as ever in some marvellous fashion, but she had doubted her power of getting out of the bunk in its lopsided state without his help. He stepped up on to the lower bunk, and worked his arms under her. "Now, if you wouldn't mind steadying yourself with your usable hand on my shoulder--so! There you are!" and he lifted her gently to her feet on the floor. "Now, hang on to my arm.... But your shoes?--you had better have them on. In your own room of course. Wait and I'll get them," and he climbed up and got them, and put them on and tied them for her. "I've pegged some slats across the slope for better foot-hold. You can't slip," and he got her safely out on to the deck. "It is delightful to be in fresh air again," she said, as she drank it in. "I wish the good weather would last for ever." "We'll hope for a good long spell anyhow. Doesn't it feel odd to be so close to the shore? We'll have rabbit for dinner. You must almost have forgotten what it tastes like." "I can still just remember," she laughed. "I'll get up some blankets and tuck you into this corner, and then I'll go and get some and some fresh water. Our raft's blown ashore and the other one also. I shall have to wade." He made her comfortable in the corner, got his buckets and a stick, and dropped over the side. She lay watching him as he waded ashore, saw him stop for a moment to examine the raft, and then, with a wave of the hand, he set off for the pools, swinging his buckets jauntily. Were there many such men in the world, she wondered, and why had she never met any of them before? The men she had met were so very different. They were as a rule so elusive and evasive that you never quite knew what they were driving at ... except that it was certain to be for their own satisfaction and advantage ... and that unless you were always on your guard it was likely to turn out ill for you ... a queer world, and life was a puzzle past comprehending..... She was glad to be out of it ... even on this sandbank.... Life was sweeter here, and certainly very much simpler.... Well, perhaps a little too severely simple in some respects.... But one could not have everything.... Thank God, again, that it was this man who was with her and not that other!... She saw him coming at last with his full buckets, and presently made out a couple of rabbits hanging round his neck. "The birds are having a great time out yonder," he called to her. "Lots of new wreckage, I expect, and they've been fasting. I must get across as soon as I can and see if the storm has brought anything for us. One never knows,"--he had come alongside, and lifted the buckets and tossed the rabbits on to the deck. "I'll fasten the raft to the chain there"--and he hauled himself along on it to the bows. She heard a smothered exclamation, and presently he climbed up and came along the deck with something in his hand. "What is it?" she asked. "What do you make of that?" and he handed her the link of the rusty cable which had given way and let them drift ashore. She turned it over in her fingers. Just where it had opened, the metal glinted in the sunshine, and just above that there was a patch that looked like grease. She shook her head. "Don't you see?--it's been filed enough to weaken it, and there was grease on the file." "And you think----" with a shocked look. "Undoubtedly. No one else could have done it. But what his idea was, I can't make out. Just to make trouble, I suppose. Of course if the wind had come the other way, as it has done once or twice, we might have blown right down the lake. It was a mean trick. I wonder when he did it." "I am more thankful than ever that he's gone." "So am I.... I've been thinking we'd better move across there as soon as possible." "Must we? I have grown so fond of this old ship." "But we can't live on the slope like this. Besides, if a gale did come the opposite way we might have trouble. I'll go over presently and begin cleaning. When I've finished you'll find it much more comfortable than this." "I shall always like this the best." "I was thinking as I went over to the pools that it might not be a bad idea to build some kind of a house on shore. I can get timber enough for a hundred. You see, we don't quite know what winter may be like in this place, but it's pretty sure to be a time of storms." "Can you build a house?" "One never knows what one can do till one tries. This is a great place for bringing out one's unknown faculties. I've done a good many things I never expected to do, since I came here." "It might be a good plan. Can't it wait till I can help?" "We'll see. We must do like the ants and squirrels--work hard while it's fine and get in our supplies for the winter. We are mighty fortunate to have such a store to draw upon." He spent all the rest of the day slaving like a charwoman on the 'Jane and Mary,' and The Girl lay in her nest watching him, as he went up and down, now flinging rubbish overboard, then hauling up buckets of water, and sluicing and mopping, with every now and again a cheery wave of hand or mop in her direction, and long periods below devoted, she did not doubt, to the doing of more of those things which he had never done, or expected to do, until he came there. And her heart was very warm to him, knowing that it was not for his own comfort but for hers that all these great labours were toward. She saw him busy on deck, bending and bobbing up and down, and once she caught the gleam of vivid colours, and wondered what he was at. He was a long time below after that, and then he went ashore for a load of sand, and when it was getting dark she suddenly caught glimpse of his head in the water as he wound up the day's work with a very necessary swim. He came across on the raft all aglow, but visibly tired and hungry, and greeted her with a cheery, "I think you'll find it all to your liking. I've swabbed away every trace of the former tenants and everything is fresh and new." "I wish I could have helped." "Oh, but you did, by sitting quietly here and getting better, to say nothing of a wave of the hand now and then." "That was not doing much when you were working like a----" "Like a nigger. I looked like one too till I'd had that swim. Now I'll get supper ready, and tomorrow we'll flit, and you'll be able to walk about on an even keel without any danger of falling." He helped her down to the cabin and their very close quarters at the bottom of the slope, and set to work preparing their evening meal. And the more incongruous his occupations and the more menial his tasks, the more The Girl's heart warmed towards him. XLIX In the morning, as soon as they had eaten, he got the raft round to the lower side of the ship, ruthlessly hacked out a section of the bulwarks so that she could step down with the smallest possible exertion, and took her across to the new house. Getting her on board without shock to the broken arm was not so easy. He moored the raft, stem and stern, and braced it tight so that it could not move. Then he built on it a pyramid of three empty boxes, forming steps up which she could climb high enough to grip his strong hand teaching down through the gap in the side and so be drawn safely up on to the deck, which he had swabbed with sand and water till it was cleaner than it had been for years. "It is nice to be able to walk on the flat of one's feet again," she said, and he led her down below to a cabin gorgeous as an Eastern room with drapings of amber silk and blue, and every bit of woodwork scoured as clean as elbow-grease could make it. "It is delightful," she said fervidly. "How you must have slaved at it!" "And how I enjoyed doing it!" There was a new sand hearth, nicely banked up between planks pegged upright on the floor, and a pile of wood on it ready for lighting. He lit a match with his flint and steel, and handed it to her as before, so that she might start the first fire in the new home. "You will take your old room," he said. "Then if we should topple over again you won't be able to fall out of your bunk. Now I'll go back and bring over all our belongings. I made a complete clearance here, except some of the stores which we can use," and before mid-day he had everything transferred and stowed away. He spent most of the afternoon weaving in and out of their rusty cable lengths of the least-rotten rope he could lay hands on, in order to strengthen it and stop its chafing as much as possible. But below water he could not go beyond a foot or two, and the lower links he had to leave to Providence. As he worked, The Girl paced the deck, rejoicing in its horizontality, and came each time to lean over the bows and watch him and say a lively word or two. And, if any had been there to see, it would have been difficult to believe that two such cheerful people were, to the very best of their belief, condemned by an inscrutable fate to imprisonment for life on this lonely sandbank,--to a confinement as solitary in some respects, and in the prospect of escape as hopeless, as that of the Bastille itself. But--they were together; and Adam and Eve, cast out of the Garden, could still make a home in the wilderness and turn the joys that were left them to fullest account. L He was up betimes next morning, and had fish for their breakfast before she came out of her room, and, moreover, had made cakes and full provision for all her needs during the day. "I shall go out there at once," he said. "You will not mind being left? I want to get in everything we shall need for the winter as soon as possible." "I am sorry not to be able to help, but I shall be quite all right here. You will..." she began, with a quite novel access of timidity, and finished with a rush,--"you will be very careful. I am rather fearful of that horrid wreckage. If you never came back----" "I will be very careful, and I will certainly come back--laden, I hope, with good things," and he went off on the raft, and she stood watching and waving her hand at times when he turned, until he disappeared along the spit. And as he went his heart beat high, for he did not believe that her fears were chiefly for herself, although she had made it appear so. He found the wreckage considerably altered. The gale had swept it bare of all traces of their previous peckings and nibblings, and had piled and stuffed it with tempting-looking new plunder. And with things less attractive. Whatever had been left of the mate had disappeared, hurled down probably into some black crack. But, during the day, in various crannies he came on no less than three drowned men, partly dressed in what appeared to him naval uniform, anyway not in the usual slops of the merchant service. And they set him thinking how narrow, yet how sharp, was the dividing line between themselves and the outer world. He built his raft as usual and toiled all day, smashing his way through scores of boxes, cases, seamen's chests, and rooting in them as eagerly as ever did the mate, but with a different spirit within him. First he gathered indispensable stores, and practice had by this time so perfected his eye that he could tell almost at a glance what a cask or box contained, how long it had been afloat, and what damage its contents were likely to have suffered. Many odd, and some extraordinary and incomprehensible, things his hasty search brought to light. It was indeed an absorbing inquisition into, an endless revelation of, the ruling passions and frailties of the human heart. Little hoards of money and jewelry were his commonest finds, pitiful now in view of their uselessness to those who had gathered them. But he would take from the pile nothing but what it rightly owed them, means of life and the tempering of its hard conditions, and he left all these untouched. Tobacco and pipes, and flints and steel, were lawful plunder. One brass-bound chest he broke open and found great store of women's clothing, rich with lace and finely wrought even to the eyes of a man. The Girl might find that useful and he began to make a selection, with the eyes of her delight dancing before him as he did so. Then with a start, and a sharp breath of amazement, he straightened up for a moment, crammed everything back into the chest, and hauled it to the edge of the pile and hurled it into the sea. For there, at the bottom, wedged tight among all these delicate draperies was the body of a new-born child, strangled at its birth, as he knew by the look of it. Bundles of letters, papers which might be of highest import to waiting friends, anxious heirs, business houses, he found in places, but left them as they were. He came on another box containing women's clothes, of plainer material and simpler make, and rooted carefully after the character of its owner before deciding to take some back for The Girl. It seemed above suspicion, and he rejoiced to be able to supply some of her more pressing needs. Clothes for himself the wreckage had always been generous of, but to come upon two chests of women's things in one day was extraordinary. They had at times searched far and wide and anxiously, and never lighted on one. He got back with his load, and in two journeys from the spit got it all on board, before it was too dark for his reward in The Girl's exuberant joy at the things he had brought for her. "Shoes! ... stockings! ... Some proper needles and thread! ... and oh, but I am glad to see these other things! ... I was washing some of my things while you were away, but it was not easy with one hand ... And another brush and comb! ... and scissors! If we can clean them I can cut your hair for you." "I shall be grateful. I feel like a savage. I'll clean them all right." "And did you make any strange discoveries?" she asked, while they sat at supper, as one asks news of the outer world from a traveller. "Oh, heaps. Jewels and money, and papers, letters and so on----" "They might be interesting,--in winter days." "I had not thought of that. I'll bring you an armful tomorrow." "You will go again tomorrow?" "I must go till I think we have enough for the winter's siege. There may be weeks when I can't get out there. This storm brought in a mighty pile of stuff and it's best to get it while it's in good condition. Do you want more clothes if I can find them?" "A woman never has too many," she laughed. "But don't waste time searching for them. I can manage very well, especially now that I have needles and thread." "I just smash open each box as I come to it. One never knows what one may come upon. Their contents are as different as their owners. I have been trying to imagine them from their belongings." He wrought at the pile for many days, and she filled in the time at home by evaporating endless pans of water over the fire to get the salt, and managed to accumulate quite a fair supply. He brought over for her amusement a great bundle of written papers which she was too busy to delve into at the moment, all her time being given to salt-making. And then one day he returned exultant with some great lumps of rock salt, such as cattle love to lick, and her little efforts were like to be put in the shade. But he averred that her salt was infinitely the finer to a cultivated taste and they would use it only on very special occasions. He brought her too a quantity of oatmeal in cases, and--treasure-trove indeed--a dozen cans of the oil used for ships' lights. He searched in vain for a lantern, but felt sure he could turn that oil to account in some way during the long winter nights. From the marks on the cases in the neighbourhood of these discoveries, and the superior quality of some of their contents, he thought a warship must have gone down not very far away. His belief was confirmed by finding other unusual supplies in the same place, and he worked at it for days until there was hardly a case or box or barrel which he had not tapped. One of his greatest finds was a handful of spare tools, in a chest that had probably belonged to a ship's carpenter--an auger, a gimlet, a chisel, a screwdriver, and a small piece of sharpening hone. And that same day he lighted on an unpretentious little box, stoutly made of deal, which had swelled with the water to the partial protection of its contents. A glance inside showed him how great was this treasure, and he carried it at once to his raft and bestowed it with care. When he opened the little deal case on deck that evening The Girl gave a joyful cry, "Books! Oh, but I am glad, and the winter nights will not be long! Let me see them all quickly.--"Poems," by Robert Burns. "Life of Samuel Johnson," by James Boswell. The Book of Common Prayer. "Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire," by Edward Gibbon, Vol 1. "The Vicar of Wakefield," by Oliver Goldsmith. "Tristram Shandy," by Laurence Sterne. "The Castle of Otranto," by Horace Walpole. The Annual Register--one, two, three volumes. "Tom Jones," by Henry Fielding. "Clarissa Harlowe," by Samuel Richardson. Cruden's Concordance. Hymns by Rev. Isaac Watts, D.D. A Bible. One, two, three volumes of sermons. John Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress" and "Holy War," and Foxe's "Book of Martyrs"! Oh, we shall do famously. Now what do you make of the owner of this fine thing?" she challenged him merrily. "A parson, I should say. They are the greatest readers. But that is easily seen," and he turned to the fly-leaves of several of the volumes and found them all inscribed with the same name, 'James Elwes, Esq. M.A. Fellow of Brasenose College, Oxford.' "Good Mr Elwes! I am sorry he is drowned, but I am grateful to him for taking his books with him when he travelled, and leaving them behind him when he went. That is the greatest find yet," said she. "We won't despise the lower things. All the same I'm glad to have the books." "They will be a wonderful help. Let us dry them at once. They are more precious than jewels," and he got her soft cloths, and they carefully mopped up and wiped over every volume and promised them they should be set in the sun to complete their cure on the morrow. "And those horrid birds?" she asked, as they worked. "You had no trouble from them?" "They were all too busy elsewhere. There is grain enough floating about there to feed a city. They will be plump and happy birds for some time to come. They were too busy even to quarrel and they never so much as looked my way." LI As though exhausted by its late violence, or needing rest before renewing it, the weather continued mild and open except for occasional mists. Thanks to her own caution and Wulfrey's assiduous attention, The Girl's arm was going on well, and she was looking forward eagerly to being an active member of society again. "You see, I have never been laid up in my life before," she said, "and it is unnatural to me. A dozen times a day I have to stop that wretched arm when it wants to do something." "A very little longer and it shall do what it wants, within reason. Let me rub it again for you." "You are a great believer in rubbing," she said, with reminiscent smiles, as she surrendered the arm to him, and he rubbed it gently and tirelessly to keep the sinews and muscles from stiffening. "I have found great virtue in it, and great reward," he smiled back. He took her ashore almost every day, and they rambled far along the northern beach and enjoyed the soft autumnal days to the full. But all the time his thoughts were on the coming winter whose rigours he had no means of forecasting. And so, like a wise man, he made such provision as was possible for the worst. He set her to gathering and drying every herb she deemed suitable for seasoning purposes. And he himself caught very many fish and split them open and dried them in the sun as he had read was done elsewhere. He tried some rabbits in the same way, but they did not take to it and had to be used for bait. And, after a few days' rest from his exertions at the wreckage, he set to work on building a house on shore, in case anything should happen to the 'Jane and Mary,' or they should find solid ground preferable to water during the winter gales. He had for a long time past secured every nail he could knock out of the old timbers, and regarded them as most precious possessions. The finding of the auger and gimlet opened up wider possibilities. Where nails are scarce, a hole and a peg may take their place. Wood he had in superfluity, for the remains of every raft that had brought cargo from the pile lay strewn about the spit, in some cases hurled half-way across it by the waves that broke there in the storm times. Where best to build was a matter not easily decided. They would need all the sunshine obtainable. But all the heaviest gales came from the south and west and from these they wanted shelter. And they must be within easy reach of the fresh-water pools and not too far from the ship, where their supplies would be mostly stored. After much discussion they fixed on an odd little hollow--a mere cup in the centre of three sandhills of size, which stood close together and moreover were well matted with wire-grass and looked too solid to whirl away in a gale as the smaller hills constantly did. To the south-west of these stood the largest hill in the neighbourhood, and this would break the force of the gales in that direction. The water-pools lay out in the sandy plain just beyond this hill. Wulf entered on the building of this first house he had ever attempted, with the gusto of a schoolboy. "I feel about fourteen," he laughed, as he detailed his ideas to her. "So do I,--except this wretched arm, which is one hundred and five." "We'll soon have it back to fourteen. You see, if I can carve out the sides of those three smaller hills, and back our house into each of them, it will make immensely for solidity and warmth. No gale can blow through a sand-hill, though they do waltz about now and again. But these seem fairly well set and fixed. I'll start on it tomorrow. I wish I had a spade and a saw. I can chop out some kind of a spade from a plank, maybe, but, lacking a saw, the house will be a bit rough, I'm afraid." "That doesn't matter as long as it stands up and keeps us warm." "Oh, I'll guarantee it will stand up and keep you warm." "Can you make a chimney?" "I've been thinking of that. I will run four boards up through a hole in the roof, and we must try to induce the smoke to go up. There is no clay here, you see, nor stone,--nothing but sand." The site settled, he set to work at once rafting his timber across the lake from the spit, and then hauling it across the sandy plain past the fresh-water pools, and this gave him a full week's hard labour. Some of the lighter planks he let The Girl drag across, since she insisted on having at all events one hand in the work. The heavier ones were as much as he could handle himself. In his rest times, and after supper of a night, he whittled pegs till he had an ample supply, and sharpened his axes with the bit of hone he had found in the carpenter's chest. With his axe he hacked out a rude spade from a plank, and trimmed the handle and the point with his knife; and then he set to work on his three sandhills, cutting down the side of each where it rounded down into the cup-like hollow, and flinging the sand into the cup itself to make a level floor. The building of such a house was entirely new to him, but he had brains and he bent them all to every problem that presented itself, and never failed to find the way out. For instance,--the space he wished his house to occupy between the sandhills was quite twelve feet in width, and his planks ran mostly to six or eight feet only. There must therefore be a row of posts in the middle, with one or more beams on top as a ridge-pole, from which he could carry side pieces to the walls six feet away on either side, and he had foreseen some difficulty in fixing these posts absolutely rigid in the yielding sand. If they wobbled or gave in any direction his roof would be in danger. But before he began carving down his sand-slopes he had settled that point. He selected his uprights, the longest and strongest in his stock, chopped them to size, and to the end of each pegged stout flat cross-pieces, boring the holes with his auger and driving home the pegs with the back of his axe. These he set up in a line in the middle of the hollow, standing upright on their cross-piece feet. Then, as he carved down his slope, every spadeful of sand buried the cross-pieces deeper, till, when he had finished, they were under two feet of well-trampled sand and he looked upon their rigidity as a personal triumph. That was surely as extraordinary a house as was ever built by a man who knew nothing whatever about building. It took him five full weeks and he enjoyed every minute of it. And so did The Girl, for she sat in the sun, watching all his cheerful activities with envious eyes because she was so unable to share them, discussing points with him as they arose, giving suggestions and advice which he always adopted when they chimed with his own, and approving heartily of all he did. "I wish I could help,"--how many times she said it, and thought it very many more. "It is disgusting to have to sit and watch while you work like a--like a galley-slave." "Galley-slaves don't build houses--not such houses as this anyway. There never was such a house before," he laughed. "Besides, you help more than you know by simply sitting there and approving of it. 'They also serve,' you know, 'who only sit and watch.'" "Who says that?" "One John Milton,--not quite in those words, but the meaning is the same. As a matter of fact, he had, I believe, just gone blind when he said it and was feeling rather out of it. Your arm will soon be all right again. It's doing famously." Truly a wonderful house, not so much because of the quaint way in which its difficulties were surmounted or evaded--which alone might have given an ordinary builder nightmares for the rest of his life, but more especially by reason of the rose-golden thoughts which swept at times like flame through hearts and minds of both watcher and builder as they wrought. If all those glowing thoughts could have transmuted themselves into visible adornment of that rough little home no fairy palace could have vied with it. For ever and again--and mostly ever--in his heart--helping the auger as it bored and the axe as it hammered the pegs well home--was the thought that was radiant enough and mighty enough to transform that desolate bank of sand into a veritable Garden of Eden;--"If no rescue comes, here we shall live--she and I--together,--one in heart and soul and body, and here, maybe, we shall die. But death is a long way off, and Love lives on forever. I would not exchange my Kingdom for all the Kingdoms of the earth." And perhaps he would permit himself a foretaste from the cup of that intoxicating happiness, in a quick caressing glance at her as she sat in the sand nursing her arm; and at times she caught those stolen glances, for her eyes found great satisfaction in his tireless energy and visible enjoyment in his work. And she knew as well as if he had told her in words,--nay better, for, without a word, the heart speaks louder than all the words in the world when it shines through honest eyes,--she knew all that possessed him concerning her, and she was not discomforted thereby. She trusted him completely. She had never felt towards any man as she did to this man. Whatever he willed for her would be right. Her whole heart and soul rejoiced that he should find such hope and joy in her. She was wholly his for the asking, but she knew he would not ask it all until he was satisfied in his own mind that he was right in asking and she in giving. She felt like a wounded bird, sitting below there, while her mate built their nest up above. But not, she said to herself, like their island birds, for they were harsh and cruel, with cold hard eyes, and ever-craving hunger in place of hearts. That wonderful house, when at last it was finished, would have given no satisfaction to the soul of any ordinary builder, but to these two it was a monument of hard work and difficulties overcome. It contained one room twelve feet square in front, with two smaller rooms opening out of it at the back. The roof sloped slightly from ridge-pole to side-walls and was made in four layers--boards side by side below, then thick sheets of crimson velvet, an outer shield of overlapping planks, and a thick coat of sand and growing wire-grass over all. He was hopeful that it would withstand the heaviest gales and rains the winter might bring. The walls were of stout boards backed up against the sandhills, with new sandhills thrown up in the intervening spaces, and inside they were draped with more crimson velvet, of which they had a large supply. The floor was of planks. The door had been a troublesome problem, and, lacking hinges, had to be lifted bodily in and out of its place. The bay-window alongside it was the cabin skylight from the 'Martha' and this, and the square smoke-shaft of four stout boards above the sand hearth, they regarded as crowning achievements. Emboldened by success, and finding enjoyment in the development of a craft of which he had never suspected himself until now,--experiencing too, to the very fullest, the primal blessing of work, he evolved an arm-chair for The Girl, out of a barrel that had once held salt pork, and when its asperities were softened and hidden under voluminous folds of red velvet she assured him it was the most comfortable chair she had ever sat in. And, for his part, he knew that no girl ever sat in any chair that ever was made who could compare with her. Beds too he made with some old sail-cloth fitted to rough frames, and a table, and their furnishing sufficed, though he promised to add to it during the winter. The Girl's arm was well again, though he still urged caution in the use of it, and kept a watchful eye on it and her; and never had he felt himself so full of the joy and strength of life. When the house was finished, they brought over a supply of stores and lived in it for a time, and turned the waning autumn days to account by long ramblings all over the island, in anticipation of the days when ill weather might coop them strictly within narrower bounds. There were no discoveries to make in land or sea or sky, scarcely any in themselves. He felt assured in his own mind that she was not unaware of all that he felt for her. The fact, the great undeniable fact, that she did not seem to resent it, was a deep joy to him. Their good-comradeship had known no cloud. She was as charmingly frank and gracious as ever. She talked away without reserve or constraint of that strange past life of hers, which, in every smallest particular, was so absolutely the opposite of this one. And never once did she display any hankering after Egypt, rather seemed to regard this as the Promised Land, or at all events the doorway to it. Ever and again the possibilities of rescue or escape came to the front in their discussions, but grew less and less as the weeks went by. He had been seven months on the island, and she four, and save herself, in all that time no other living soul had come to it,--unless, as the mate had so strenuously held, the bodies of those discomforting sea-birds were occupied by the souls of drowned sailor men. "And you, you know, were a miracle," he would remind her. "The chances against you were about a thousand to one----" "And you were that one." "It was not that I was thinking of----" "I never forget it." "This place is undoubtedly shunned, as Macro said. It is known as a death-trap. No ship comes here except in pieces. No man comes until he is dead. And so, our prospects of rescue or escape are very small, I fear. For your sake I wish it were otherwise." "Have I shown signs of discontent, then? I assure you I have never been so ... so content to wait and hope. It is the most delightful holiday from the world I have ever had.... Sometime perhaps we shall look back upon it as the wide dividing line between the old world and the new ... and between the old life and the new." "A line is black as a rule." "It may be light," she said, and waved her hand expressively towards the shimmering golden spear which the setting sun sent quivering over the water right up to their feet, as they stood watching it on the beach. "If we could only walk on it!" she said softly, as the red disc swelled and sank and disappeared amid a glory of tender lucent greens and blues and glowing orange, with a line of crimson fire on the edge of every hovering cloud, and a heavenful of crimson flakes and splashes smouldering slowly into gray above their heads. "It points the road, but we cannot take it," he said quietly, and they turned and went back to the house. There were times when she thought he was about to tell her all that was in his heart concerning her. She could see it in his face and eyes and restless manner. And she was ready to respond. There were times when it was almost more than he could do to keep it all in. He believed she knew. He hardly doubted her response. But he said to himself, with set jaw and a firmer grip of his manhood,--"She has known me just four months. She is here helpless in my hands. I may not press her unduly, for she might feel that she could hardly say me nay. Her very helplessness must make me the more careful and considerate." And more than once, when the desire of his heart was leaping to his lips, he jumped up abruptly and went out into the night and strode away along the beach. And there he would pace to and fro under the quiet stars, with the black waves swirling up the shore in long slow gleams of shimmering silver, till the peace of it all passed into his blood, and presently he would go quietly in again, with face and heart toned down to reasonableness. And when he went out so, The Girl would smile to herself at times, as one who understood. And again, at times the smile would slowly fade and she would sit thoughtful. But, if she wondered somewhat, and found him beyond her complete understanding, she liked him none the less for his restraint. She was quite happy in their present fellowship, but she knew it could not continue so, indefinitely. A man always wants more. The woman gives. She felt towards this man as she had never felt towards any man before. Without a word spoken, she was satisfied as to the integrity of his intentions, as she had never been of any of those who had approached her in that old life, and she had been approached by many. But the coinage of love about the Court had grown as debased as did the paper money of the Republic later on. Whispers of love had become but fair cloaks for foul deeds. This man had whispered nothing, but she understood him and held him in honour. And she was in no hurry. His love would not burn out, or she was much mistaken in him. The flame repressed burns brightest in the end. And then ... and then.... Well, she sometimes laid hold of the future by the ears, as it were, and held its changing face while she peered intently into it, and endeavoured to read there all that it might mean for her. Sooner or later he would open his heart to her--and that would be the first change. Their relationship would of necessity become closer and warmer. She would welcome that. It would bring great happiness to them both. And then--later on--sometime--when all hope of rescue or escape had left them ... he would ask still more of her.... That was inevitable.... And in her heart, hiding behind a thinning cloud of doubt, which had, when first it came upon her, been tinged with dismay, she knew he would be right, and that in consenting, she would do no wrong, although it must run counter to all her normal views of right and wrong. She faced it all squarely and honestly,--Courtship properly ends in Marriage. If by this accident of their strange fate the regular marriage rites prescribed by the law of the land could not take place, they would have to content themselves without them. It was inevitable. Elemental views of right and wrong were indeed tap-rooted in her heart and safe from bruising. But she recognised that circumstances alter cases and that normal views were out of place here. And as to the law of the land--what country claimed this bank of sand she did not know. It was a No Man's Land, outside the pale of all laws save God's and Nature's. With no man she had ever met, except this man, could she have imagined herself considering possibilities such as these. But with him she would feel as safe and happy as if all the archbishops and bishops in the land had performed the ceremony. For, after all, it was only man's law and man's ceremony; and God's law and Nature's were mightier than these. With such thoughts in her--deep thoughts and long--she could wait quietly, and she veiled her feelings for him lest he should deem her of light mind and too easily to be won. Now and again, induced perhaps by some adverse humour of body or atmosphere, a plaguy little fear would leap at her heart and nibble it with sharp teeth,--could it be that he had ties in the old life of which he had never dared to hint,--some other woman--to whom he was bound by honour or by law? He had told her much, and yet not very much. Had he told her all? Did men ever tell all? He had told her much, but there was room in what he had not told for anything--for everything. But surely he had one time said that he had left no ties behind him,--that he was alone. If there should be anything of the kind it would explain his self-restraint, his quiet service, the looks he could not wholly check, the words he did not speak. That his heart had gone out to herself she could not mistake. But that was not incompatible with ties elsewhere that might keep them apart. But fears such as that could not hold her long. They had sprung up, in spite of her, once or twice when he had jumped up and left her alone, and gone out into the night to pace the beach. But when he returned, quieted and all himself again, they disappeared at once, and her heart was at rest. Wrong and this man had nothing in common, she said to herself. She felt as sure of his honour as of her own. LII "This weather cannot last much longer," he said, one night as they sat talking after supper; he with his pipe, which she never would permit him to sacrifice on her account, pronouncing the smell of it homely and comfortable, in spite of his apologies for the varied qualities of his tobacco. "We must be somewhere near the end of October." "It is either the 21st or 22nd or 23rd," she said very definitely. "You have kept count?" "Except the time I was on the mast and before I came to life again." "Two days probably." "I imagined so. In that case it is the 21st." "And we must be ready for November and bad weather. Would you sooner stop here or go back to the 'Jane and Mary'?" "We could not be more comfortable than we are here. But I will do whatever you wish." He glanced at her through the wreathing smoke of fire and pipe, for nothing they could do would make it all go up the chimney. Would she say as much if he asked her more? he wondered. Was she ready to be asked? Or was it still too soon? If he told her all that was in his heart, would he startle her out of this most pleasant companionship? She sat gazing quietly into the fire of scraps of old ship's timber. Those leaping tongues of blue and green and yellow and crimson flame were a never-failing joy to her. Many a curious thing had she seen in them, and thought many strange thoughts to the tune of their merry dance. She was winsome beyond words when she sat so, with the lights and shadows playing over her face, and about the misty dark eyes in which her clear soul dwelt and shone without disguisements. Suppose he said to her--here and now,--"Avice, dearest, do you know what you are to me? I cannot possibly tell you in words, but--do you know?..." And she said "I know,"--and said again, "I will do whatever you wish...." Ah--God! ... If that could be he would ask no more of life.... One word from her and this bare bank would be swept with golden fires; in the twinkling of an eye it would become a Paradise for him and her to dwell in.... If he sat there looking at her it must out. He could not keep it in. And why should he? Why not tell her, here and now? ... He got up quietly and strode out into the night. A smile hovered in the corners of her lips, as, without looking, she caught sight of his face. Then she rose also and stole out after him. She was causing him pain when she wished him only joy. His thought, she knew, was all for her. She would think and act for them both. If he had sat there like a pent-up volcano for another second the hot lava would have come rushing out. She had felt it all in the air. Her heart too was so full of expectant joy that the tension was akin to pain. It was very dark, with only throbbing stars in a velvet sky and the white gleam of the foam along the beach. She did not know which way he had gone, but he would come back presently, all himself again. She sank down into the side of a hummock and waited. He came at last, slowly, heavily, with bent head. He stopped quite close to her, where the way led to the house, and stood looking out over the darkness of the sea. Then he heaved a great sigh and turned to go back to the house. "God!" she heard him mutter. "If I dared but tell her!" She rose swiftly out of her form and caught him by the arm, with something between a laugh and a cry, "Tell me, then!"--and the mighty arms of his love were round her, gripping her to him till she was squeezed almost breathless. "Avice! Avice!--and you knew! Oh, thank God for you!" "Of course I knew," she gasped. "And I want you as much as you want me." "Thank God for you, dearest!" he said deeply. "We will thank Him all our lives. He has given us with a full hand.... I have nothing left to ask Him ... except your fullest happiness, now and always." "And I yours. You are my happiness. You give me Heaven." "God requite me ten times over if ever you rue this day. I have longed for you till my heart was sick with the pain of longing----" "Foolish! Why did you not tell me before?" "I could not. Until I knew.... Placed as we are, you see, it felt like forcing you.... You might not have felt free to say no.... It might have put an end to all our comradeship...." "You don't know me. I'd have said no quickly enough if I hadn't wanted you. But I do, and you make me very happy." He led her into the house and held her there at arm's length in the firelight, as though he could hardly believe it all true, and looked deep into the dark eyes and rosy face and kissed it rosier still. And the blue and yellow and green and crimson flames danced their merriest, as these two sat hand in hand watching them, and talking softly by snatches with long sweet silences in between. LIII "I was so afraid there might be some other to whom you were bound," she said, as she lay there in the firelight, with her head against his arm and his right hand smoothing her hair, that wonderful hair which had been to him as the aureole of a saint and was more to him now than all the gold in all the world. "There is no other, my dear one. Not a soul on earth has any claim on me except that of friendship.... It was inevitable that we should both have that fear. Four months ago we did not know of one another's existence----" "Isn't it wonderful?" she murmured. "I wonder if we had never met if you would have found someone else----" "Never anyone to fill my heart as you do. I cannot even imagine it." "And if I should have found someone else?" "That is possible, but no one who could feel for you all that I do, or could want you as much as I do. You are to me the one supreme good," and the clasp of his arm told her even more than his words. "You do not ask me if I had any ties in the old life," she began. "You would not be lying in my arm like this if there were. I know you too well." "That is true and I thank you. It is good to be taken on trust. But indeed there were none. The men one met there--faugh!--they were masquers, puppets, dandies;--some had brains, but few had hearts, and they were most dreadful liars. Such talents as they possessed were devoted to finesse and intrigue, and the turning of everything to their own satisfaction and advantage." "Thank God you are out of it all." "Yes, I do thank God,--for the shipwreck and everything else, but chiefly that He sent you here to meet me and took that other one away." The weather held still for a few days, and he spent them in providing for her future comfort in every way he could think of. He chopped logs enough to last them through the winter, and piled them in stacks about the house. He got over from the ship supplies in abundance. As the result of much labour and many failures he constructed a primitive lamp out of the silver mug from which Macro used to swill his rum. He distorted a beak out of one side of it, and contrived a wick which passed through a hole in a piece of beaten copper, and if the light was not brilliant it was at all events steadier to read by than the dancing flames. He had lighted quite by accident on Macro's hidden hoard in the hold of the 'Jane and Mary.' He was rooting in a corner there for his knife, which had worked out of its sheath at his back as he hoisted out provisions, and found it sticking point downwards in a plank. As he pulled it out, the plank gave slightly, and lifting it he found, underneath, the useless treasure. He wanted none of it, was indeed loth to touch it, but, on consideration, took out two more silver mugs for their daily service and half a dozen gold pins and brooches for Avice's use, since she was always needing such things and regretting her lack of them. The long spell of mild soft weather--which had come at last to have in it a sense of sickness and decay--broke up in the wildest storm they had yet seen. The birds came whirling in in a shrieking cloud, but the wind out-shrieked them. It shrilled above their heads in a ceaseless strident scream like the yelling of souls in torment. It shook their protecting sandhills and made their house shiver right down to the buried cross-pieces of its pillars. It picked up the smaller hummocks outside and set them waltzing along the shore. It heaped a foot of new sand on their roof and sent a cartload of it down the chimney. But their position had been well chosen. The more the sand piled on their house and against it, the tighter it became. Then the rain came down in sheets and torrents, but no drop came through, except down the chimney, and that Wulf presently plugged with a blanket and let the smoke find its way out through an inch of opened door, which he had purposely placed to leeward, as all their great storms came from the south and south-west. But the change of atmosphere was bracing, and with solid sand under their feet, and assured of the safety of their house, they welcomed it and felt the better for it. After the first day's confinement he must out to see, and she would not stay behind. So they rigged themselves in oldest garments and fewest possible and started out. They were drenched to the skin in a second and whirled away like leaves the instant they forsook the cover of their hollow. Avice was being carried bodily towards their nearest shore. He feared she would go headlong into the sea and started wildly after her. He saw her throw herself flat and grip at the sand, but she was broadside on to the merciless wind and it bowled her over and over, and rolled her along like a ball. It carried him along in ten-feet leaps. He flung himself down beside her, put his arm round her, wrenched her head to the gale, and they lay there breathless, she choking hysterically with paroxysms of laughter. It took them an hour, crawling like moles, to get back to the shelter of the hills. He would have had her go in, but she would not hear of it. They could hear the booming thunder of the great waves on the spit even above the wind, and she must see them. So they set off once more, flat to the sand, and worked round in time to the breast of the great hill near the fresh-water pools, and lay in it, safe from dislodgment unless the hill went too. They could only peer through pinched eyes, and then only with their hands over them, into the teeth of that wind, but, even so, the sight was magnificent and appalling. The grim gray sky and the grim gray sea met just beyond the spit, and out of that close sky the huge gray waves burst, high as houses,--whole streets of houses rushing headlong to destruction. They curved gloriously to their fall with a glint of muddy green below and all their crests abristle with white foam-fury. Right out of the sky they came, right up to the sky they seemed to reach, flinging up at it great white spouts of spray like flouting curses, towering high above the land, crashing down upon it with a thunderous roar which thinned the voice of the wind to no more than a shrill piping. Their own land-locked lake was lashed into fury also. The flying crests of the outer waves came rocketing over in wild white splashes. He was not sure that some of the waves themselves did not cover the spit and come roaring into it. The 'Jane and Mary' danced wildly to her cable. He wondered if it would hold. The 'Martha,' more than ever on her beam-ends, was being pounded like a drum. "Did you feel that?" he shouted in her ear, and she nodded, with a touch of fear in her wind-blown face. For, under the impact of one vast mountainous avalanche, the very ground on which they lay seemed to shake like a jelly, and the whole island shuddered. "It cannot wash it all away, can it?" she gasped, when they had wormed their way back to shelter. "It never has done yet anyway," he said cheerfully, as he squeezed windy tears out of his smarting eyes. "Now, dear, change all your things at once. We are wet through to the bone." "It was very wonderful. I wouldn't have missed it for anything. But I'm glad we're ashore," and she slipped away into her own room. That was the first of the winter storms, and there were many like it. But they bore them equably. They were in splendid health, the weather at its worst was never very cold, indeed the gales were more to their taste than the smothering chill of the frequent fogs. They had all they needed,--food and fire, and light and books, a weather-tight house, and one another. If they lacked much of what their former life had taught them to consider necessary, they had more than all that former life had given them, and they were happy. LIV Between the storms and fog-spells, they tramped to and fro discovering the changes wrought in their island, and many a strange thing their wanderings showed them. One great gale which lasted a full week strewed the south-west Point with wreckage as thickly almost as the great pile beyond. Their hearts ached at thought of the still greater loss it represented, of which the proofs were never lacking. The chaotic bristle was studded with the bodies of the drowned, and the sight sent them home sorrowfully, yet marvelling the more at their own deliverance, and still more grateful for it. "We are miracles, without a doubt," said Wulf gravely, as they went back home. "No one else gets here alive, you see.... I was the first miracle. Macro was the second," and he told her what she had not known before, how he had contrived to save the mate, and of his regret that it had not been old Jock Steele the carpenter, who would have been a blessing to them instead of a curse. "And you are the third and best miracle of all," he said, clasping her arm more tightly under his own. "God! what a difference it has made!" he said fervently. "Alone here one might go mad. In time one most certainly would. See how good a work you are accomplishing by simply remaining alive. Instead of being a melancholy madman you make me the happiest man on earth. Oh, the God-given wonder of a woman! Truly you are the greatest miracle of all, and He has been good to me." "And to me. If you had not been here I should have been dead and we would never have met. Perhaps He sent us to one another." "I'm sure He did, and all our lives we'll thank Him for it," and so the sight of the dead but put a keener edge on their gratitude for life and their joy in one another. The next big storm washed the point clean again. All had gone, wreckage, bodies, everything, and the great pile beyond bristled higher than ever. "Do you notice anything strange?" he asked her, as they stood looking out at it. "There seems more of it." "And not a bird to be seen. They've all gone for the winter, I expect. We shall not see them again till next year." "I am glad. They are evil things. Our Paradise is sweeter without them," and he kissed her for the word. The weird forces of the gales, however, afforded them many surprises. Tramping round the further end of their lake one day, they saw changes in the great stretch of sand that ran out of sight towards the eastern point. What had been a level plain was scored and furrowed as by a mighty ploughshare. It was like a rough sea whose tumbling waves had in an instant been turned into sand--league-long grooves with high-piled ridges between, and in the hollows the watery sun glinted briefly here and there on shining white objects sticking out of the sand. "Bones!" said Wulf in surprise, as they stood looking into the first hollow, and he jumped down and picked up a human skull. "Horrid!" said Avice. "And there's another, and another over there. It's a regular grave-yard." "A battle-field, I should say," as he examined them one after another. "This is very curious. This fellow was killed by a bullet through the head. Here's the hole. And this one's skull was split with an axe or a sword. This one also. I wonder what it all means...." "Pirates and murderers. That's what they look like." "I shouldn't wonder.... Here's an ancient cutlass." "And what's this?"--rooting at something with her foot.... "An old pistol! ... and the hilt of another sword! ... I wonder if they were the men who lived on our ships." "Maybe. But I think these things are older than the ships.... Why--the place is thick with them," as they wandered on. "There must be scores of them, and more still underneath the ridges, no doubt.... There was no lack of life here at one time evidently----" "And death!" "Yes, and death without a doubt. A good thing for us, perhaps, that customers such as these don't frequent it now." "I'm glad we live at the other end. You haven't found any bones there, have you?" "Not a bone! They're not very cheerful company. Let us hope the next gale will cover them up again." Further on, in another trench, they found one side of a boat, mouldered almost into the similitude of the sand in which it had been embedded for very many years. And, further along still, Wulf thought he could make out the stark ribs of ships like those on the outer banks at their own end of the island. But they were very far away and held out no inducement to closer investigation, and Avice had had enough of such things for the time being. There were spells of bad weather, when, for days at a time, they scarcely ventured out except to get in wood or fetch water from the pools, which always meant a thorough soaking. But they were completely happy in one another's company, and ever more grateful for the Providence that had cast their lot together. The days slipped by without one weary hour. Shrewder and subtler proving of hearts and temperaments could hardly be conceived. But they stood the test perfectly, never thought of it as such, found in their present estate nothing but cause for joy and deepest thankfulness. The depth and warmth of his love for her expressed itself in most devoted service and tenderest care, and hers for him in so frank and implicit a confidence that he felt it an uplifting honour to be so favoured. Indeed the man who could have betrayed so great a trust must have been lowest of the low and basest of his kind. "I can't help wondering sometimes whether we would have felt like this to one another if we had met in an ordinary way, outside there," she said musingly, one night, as she lay in the hollow of his arm, watching the coloured flames. "Yes," he said emphatically. "For you laid hold of my heart as soon as I set eyes on you. It got tangled first in the meshes of your hair, and in your long eyelashes, and the thing I wanted most was to see what your eyes were like. They were wells of mystery." "And--they were right?" she laughed softly. "They were exactly right and just what I had hoped. Large and dark and eloquent and tender and true and----" "Dear! dear! If I had known such an inquisition was going I should have been afraid to open them." "Ah, you didn't know me, you see." "I didn't know you, but I knew I was all right as soon as I saw you. I knew I could trust you.... How strange and wonderful it all was!" LV One strange and terrible experience they had when the winter was almost over, and it came within measurable distance of making an end of them both. Depending on their reserve stock of flour on board the 'Jane and Mary,' they had used freely what they had on shore. When he opened the other he found to his dismay that it must have been more damaged at first than he imagined. It was nearly all mouldy and smelt badly. He had run short of tobacco also, and so decided to go over to the pile for supplies on the first possible day. The worst of the storms seemed over. They had occasional brisk gleaming days in between times, and on one such, after seeing that Avice had all she would need in his absence, they set off along the northern shore. She wanted to go out with him, but he dissuaded her from that. The crossing would be very different from what it was in the summer and he would not have her exposed to it. Besides, he intended to make only a short job of it, just get what he wanted, and be back almost before she knew he had gone. She was so loth to be parted from him, however, even for that short time, that she insisted on walking with him to the point and said she would sit there and wait till she saw him on his way back. So she sat down in the sand and drew her blanket cloak about her, and watched him wade and swim and at last scramble up on to the pile. He waved his hand to her and then set to work constructing a raft as usual. She saw him climbing to and fro among the wreckage, smashing away at casks and cases, and then, to her dismay, he and the pile and the gaunt wrecks beyond disappeared completely, wiped out by a bank of mist that had come sweeping in from the sea. The sun still shone up above, but intermittently. Dark clouds came rushing up out of the south and presently it too was hidden. The wind blew gustily and increased in violence every minute. She wished he had not gone. She could do no good by stopping there, but she did not care to go home. Behind her, on the southern shore, the waves were beginning to break with the short harsh sounds that portended storm. Perhaps he would leave his work and swim across. He would know she was waiting for him. She must wait till he came. She drew her blanket over her head and sat there, huddled up with her back to the wind, and hoped and prayed. For, if this sudden storm should work up into a gale and last, she would be full of fears for his safety. Suppose he should be drowned! What that awful pile would be like in bad weather she dared not think. She prayed wildly for his life,--"Oh God, spare him to me! He is all I have! Spare him! Have pity on us both! Spare him! Spare him!"--over and over again the same ultimate cry, for her mind was closed to every other thought but this, that the man she loved more than anything on earth was out there in peril of his life. She stayed there, drenched by the rain and flailed by the wind, till it began to grow dark, and then she crept wearily home like a broken bird. Grim fear gripped her heart like an icy hand, but she would not despair entirely. He was so strong and capable. He might have tried and found it impossible to get back. He might come in at any minute. If he were here the first thing he would have told her was to change into dry clothes. She changed, and made up the fire and put on the kettle. He would be cold and hungry when he came. She must be ready for him. Out there on the wreckage, Wulf had been so hard at work that he noticed no sign of change in the weather, till the clammy mist swept over him and blotted out everything but the box he was delving into. The winter storms had wrought great changes in the pile. It seemed thicker and higher and more chaotic than ever, bristling with new stuff which he would have liked to investigate, in case it should contain anything that would add to Avice's comfort. But first, to find some decent flour, and, as it happened, there seemed fewer barrels about than usual, and most of them had suffered in their rough transit. The search for a good one took time. Such as he found were gaping and he did not trouble to open them. However, he discovered one at last, opened it to make sure of the goodness of its heart and then turned to seek tobacco. It was then that the fog swept down on him and chained him to three square feet or so of precarious foothold. Trespass beyond that limit might mean a broken limb or neck, for the surface of the pile was seamed with ragged rifts and chasms, in which the tide whuffled and growled like a wild beast anticipating food. So he rooted away in the chest he had just smashed open, lighted on a supply of tobacco to his great satisfaction, and then sat down where he was, to wait till the fog cleared. But this, he perceived, was not one of their usual clinging fogs which enveloped one like a pall of cotton-wool. It drove on a rising wind and sped past him in dense whirling coils that made his head spin. He thought briefly of mighty spirits of the air trailing ghostly garments in rapid flight. Down below him, in the black rifts and along the sides of the pile, the water was yapping savagely, as if the wild beast would wait no longer. When the last of the fog tore past him in tattered fragments, he found to his dismay that the sea between him and home was beyond any man's swimming,--every channel raging and foaming, and the banks between boiling furiously in the rising tide and the rush of the south-west wind. The raft he had made had already broken loose and started northwards on its own account. It went to pieces on the nearest bank, as he watched, and swept away in fragments. There was nothing for it but waiting. So sudden a storm might pass as quickly as it had come. For himself he had no great fears. The pile had stood a thousand storms, and worse ones than this. But he was filled with anxiety on Avice's account. She would imagine the worst when he did not come, and her suffering would be great. Thought of her troubled him infinitely more than fear for himself. He tried hard to make her out on the beach, though how to reassure her he did not know. But the sky was overcast and the atmosphere murky with sweeping showers, and he could not even see the point. He was wet through with his swim, and the wind, though not cold in itself, was so strong that it chilled him. He searched about for shelter, and coming on a huge case which presented a solid back to the weather, he stove in the front and found it contained fine lace curtains. He hauled out a sufficiency, which the wind whisked playfully away. Then he crept into their place, grateful for so much, and lay and watched the strange writhings and contortions of the pile under the impact of the gale and the rising tide. The wind would go down with the tide probably, and then he would make another raft and get home as quickly as he could with his flour. For, great as Avice's anxiety would certainly be, they were still short of flour, and it would be better to take it with him than to have to come back for it. The wreck-pile in a gale was a decidedly unpleasant experience, and its behaviour most extraordinary. He had never imagined a dead conglomeration such as that capable of such antics. When the tide was at its height the whole mass writhed and shuddered through all its length and breadth like some great monster in its death agonies. The rifts and chasms gaped and closed like grim black wounds or hungry mouths. Strange and awesome sounds broke out all about, groanings and creakings, ragged rendings and grindings, as the component pieces lifted and settled regardless of their neighbours. When the tide went down it was more at ease, and the only sounds were the waves snapping at the sides and gurgling and rushing in the depths below. He did not find it very cold. Sheltered from the wind, the heat of his body in time made a warm nook round him in the heart of the curtains. But he was never dry. And before it got too dark, when he saw it would be impossible to get away that night, he crept out and crawled precariously to and fro till he lighted on a small cask of rum. He carried it to his shelter, knocking in the head with his axe, and it kept his blood warm through the night. But it was a terribly long night, chiefly because he was thinking all through it of Avice, and her fears for him, and her suffering. To his bitter disappointment, morning showed no signs of abatement or relief. It brought another wild gray day without a glimmer of hope in the sky. He had eaten nothing for more than twenty hours and was feeling empty and ravenous. The tide had risen and gone down again in the night. Before the pile began its writhings and contortions again he must eat. So he crept out and foraged till he found a barrel of pork, and bashed it open and carried back to his nest a big chunk which he ate raw and washed down with rum. All that day the gale held. He hardly dared to think of Avice and yet could think of nothing else. At times, under the impulse of his fears for her, he was tempted to leap into the sea and try to battle through to the point. But when he studied the chances of it, common sense prevailed. Adventure into those boiling currents meant death as surely as if he cut his throat on the pile. If he could only let her know that he was alive.... If he had had his flint and steel he would have tried to set something on fire--even if it were his nest--on the chance of her seeing the smoke and understanding it. He searched eagerly for another tinder-box, but could not light on one. It was an anxious and gloomy man that crept into the heart of the curtain-case that night; but he slept, in a way and brokenly, in spite of it all, for Nature knows man's limits, and when he goes beyond them she steps in at times and takes command. LVI To Avice, also, that first night was one long horror. She made up the fire and sat waiting for him to come. He would know in what a state of despair she would be and he would certainly come. She was sure he would come--if he could. If he did not it was because he could not. And ... if he could not.... The wind shrilled eerily outside. It sounded cold and heartless ... pitiless ... like messages from the dead ... warnings of evil. It got on her nerves and set her shivering. She crept to her room at last and dropped hopelessly on to her bed, and lay there sorely stricken. In the gray of the morning she ate mechanically, and hurried away to the point for sign or sight of him. But it was all she could do to make out the pile itself, like a bristling rampart in the dull dim distance. As to distinguishing anything on it, that was out of the question. She wandered about there all day long, with her eyes strained on the pile like one bereft, and only crept back when night shut it out and drove her home. She was satisfied in her own mind now that he was dead. If he had been alive he would certainly have come. Well, she would not be long in following him.... Without him she had no desire to live ... even if she could struggle on alone, which was very doubtful ... better to join him quickly than to drag on miserably all by herself on that lonely bank, and go crazy in the end. She sobbed herself asleep, her last wish that she might never waken. She had eaten nothing since the morning, and then only a hasty scrap that had no taste in it. The fire had gone out.... It did not matter. She would go out herself as soon as might be.... A woful end to all their golden hopes and happiness. Morning found her still lying spent and hopeless on her bed, comatose, neither asleep nor awake, simply careless of life and even of the fact that the wind had fallen at midnight and that the new day had broken soft and clear. Then, in her dream-weariness, she heard a voice in the outer room--or thought she did--but all her senses were dulled except the sense of loss and heartache. People, she knew, heard voices when they were going to die. "Avice!"--the voice of God calling her--the sweet voice of death. She was ready to go. "Avice! Where are you?"--and a tapping on the wall of her room. How like Wulfrey's voice! Perhaps he was permitted to be the messenger,--a gracious thought--a joyful thought. She rose painfully, stiff with weakness and long lying, stumbled to the doorway, stood leaning her hands against the sides, and peered, white-faced and awe-stricken, through the curtains into the room. Then, with a broken cry, she threw up her hands and fell forward into Wulf's arms. When she came to herself she was lying on a blanket outside the house and he was bathing her forehead and kissing her. She lay looking up at him in wonder, out of eyes almost lost in the mists and darkness of her suffering. She raised a hand and touched his face. "Are you real? Are you alive?" she whispered doubtfully. He proved it with hot kisses. His eyes swam with pity for her sufferings. Her face and eyes told him all the story. "By God's mercy we are both alive, dear. It might have been otherwise.... You have suffered sorely." "I thought you were sent for me ... the angel of Death. And it was so good of them to send you and not a stranger.... But it is better to have you alive," and happy tears welled weakly out of her eyes and rolled down the white cheeks. "I believe you have eaten nothing since I went. Lie still and I will get you something," and he jumped up and went inside, lighted the fire quickly, and presently was sitting by her side, feeding her with warm rum and water, for she was icy cold, and some bits of the cakes she had made three days before. "You ought not to have starved yourself like that," he remonstrated. "I was sure you were dead and I had no wish to live.... You will never go out there again...." "Not in the break of a storm anyway. We must go to the storehouse sometimes, but we'll make sure of our weather in future." "I wouldn't have minded if I'd been with you." "I would. It was ghastly out there in the night," and he told her how he had lived in the big case of curtains, and how the pile heaved and writhed like a wounded sea-serpent under the tide and the gale. And how he had brought back some flour after all, though it had been no easy job as there was no wind to help him. "It is dear flour," she said. "It nearly cost us our lives. I would sooner live on raw meat another time." LVII That was their sorest trial of the winter. Often, over the fire of a night, they talked of it and told one another all there was to tell of their feelings and their fears, and their love burned the brighter for its tempering. But Avice was soon herself again, and as the Spring quickened all about and in them, the bitterness of the experience gradually faded out of their recollection and only the brightness was left. And then there was so much to interest one everywhere that the days were hardly long enough for all there was to see and do. First, seals--mothers and babies galore. Those sandy beaches of the northern coast seemed a favourite basking place and nursery, and Avice could creep along behind the sandhills, and crawl up among the wire-grass, and peep over, and she never tired of watching them. There was something so human in the way the babies snuggled up to their mothers when they were hungry, and still more in the way the mothers looked down at their nurslings. And the baby-rabbits. They were almost as entrancing as the seals, but far shyer and more difficult to spy upon. For the simple lifting of a head among the sparse tufts of grass set the hollow below alive with tiny bobbing white scuts, whose terrified owners tumbled over one another in their anxiety to get below ground. Avice would not hear of rabbit-meat in those days. She said the very thought of it made her feel like a cannibal. And lastly,--birds. They were coming back in flights. The eastern point seemed their chosen ground, but closer at hand stray families were found, and importunate babies were being fed by the cold-eyed mothers with whom, a few months later, they would be waging the fierce battle for food. But Avice never took to the birds as she did to the seals and rabbits. She could never forget what they would grow into--brigands and fighters and cold-blooded raucous screamers at all times. Now and again they lived on the 'Jane and Mary' for a week by way of a change, and fish was always obtainable whether they were afloat or ashore. The clear fire of their love waxed ever stronger, devoured the days and weeks and months, and refined and fused them all into golden memories without one smallest speck of alloy. More devoted lover never woman had, nor man a sweeter mistress. Never was princess of the blood--without a bar across her scutcheon--held in loftier esteem or shown it more gallantly. Never, in word or act, did he offend her sense of right in the smallest degree; yet she could set his heart leaping and his blood racing by a touch--and she knew it. Sometime,--when he believed it right--she knew he would ask more of her. It was inevitable. She had known it from the beginning. And she had no fear of it. Love such as theirs knows nothing of fear. They were not playing at love. They loved with all the white fire of passionate devotion which loses sight of self in the one beloved. For better, for worse; in life, in death, she was wholly his. With the ardour of the Spring in her blood, and the love-light in her eyes, she waited for him to speak. LVIII Time came when, according to her calendar, he had been there full twelve months and she just about nine. And as to prospect of escape, or further addition to their company, they were in exactly the same position as when they came. Whenever they discussed that matter, she said, "Still, I came ashore alive." And he always said, "You were the miracle. Besides you were nine-tenths dead." She wondered when he would ask the next step of her, and how he would do it. Her answer was ready--herself. Still, something of extra fragrance--something ineffably sweet and delicate--would cling to it for ever, or be for ever just that much lacking, according to the manner of his asking. But she believed his great love would choose the proper chord and strike it with strong and gentle fingers. And it did. They were sitting in the firelight one night, when a more than usually pregnant silence fell on them. The depth of their feeling for one another expressed itself not infrequently in these long delicious pauses in their talk, when that which was in them was all too sacred for words. Her Northern blood, of which she was proud, prevailed as a rule over the Gallic strain, which she held in light esteem, and made for undemonstrativeness in any outward display of feeling. But she felt to the depths, and when she did permit the brakes to slip, the wheels struck sparks. He also was more doer than talker. Hence those long sweet silences, when she lay with her head in his arm in the coloured firelight, and the gentle play of his hand on her hair was more to them both than all the words in the world. But this night there was more in the silences that fell on them. In both their hearts the high-charged thoughts and feelings of many months were converging to a point. The quickening of the Spring was in their blood. His hand slipped suddenly down from her hair and clasped on both of hers where they lay in her lap. His voice as he spoke was deep with emotion. It thrilled her to the depths. She felt the hot pulses in his hand leaping and throbbing. His words were very simple, as became a matter so vital. Deepest feeling needs no garnishment. "Dearest, you have honoured me with your trust and love"---- Her hands turned and clasped his fervently. "Every hair of your head is precious to me. I would not knowingly offend your feelings in any smallest thing.... We are here, cut off from our kind, it may be, for ever.... We are as alone here with God, as Adam and Eve were in The Garden.... You make my Paradise. You can perfect it.... Will you?..." And for answer she put up her arms, and drew down his face, and kissed him passionately, and clung to him as if she would never let him go. "I thank God for so precious a gift," he said, clasping her to him so that she felt his heart pounding inside as furiously as her own. "Heart ... soul ... body ... all yours!" she whispered, and he kissed her hair, because her face was hidden, and clasped her closer still. "It is the ordained crown of our love," he said presently, when their first blinding whirl of emotion was over. "I cannot see that we offend any law of man's, for here we are beyond the law. God's law we are surely keeping.... And, so as not to act on simple impulse I have thought that we would let another month go by before..." and he kissed her rosy face again. "But why?" "Perhaps you have not thought it all out as I have----" "But I have ... I knew it must be so...." and the joy in him was very great. "All the same, dear, we will not enter into that high estate without your very fullest consideration.... And if you should find any reason or instinct against it I shall abide by your decision." "I am all yours. I shall not change." "From what the mate said I imagine this island may pertain to Nova Scotia. It is possible that Scottish law runs there.... We can take one another for man and wife and place it on record...." "How?" "We have books with fly-leaves. Among the sand-hills you will find all the quills you want. The birds are some use after all.... Anyone can make a pen ... and ink we can always get even though it is red.... All we need for a good Scots marriage is a pair of witnesses." "Seals, rabbits, birds...." "They cannot testify.... All we can do," he said thoughtfully, "if, by God's mercy, we ever leave this place is to regularise ourselves by proper marriage ashore as soon as we land. But the prospects of getting away seem very small, I'm afraid." "We have been very happy here. We can still be very happy here," she said contentedly. So amazing is this great power of Love in covering all deficiencies of outward circumstance. LIX The days slipped past, and each day he watched her quietly for slightest sign of compunction, or retraction. And if such had come to her, sore though he might have felt, and bereaved of the perfect unfolding of the fair flower of their love, he would have choked the feeling down, trampled on it, buried it so that she would have seen no sign of it in him. For he recognised to the fullest what a mighty thing this was that he was asking of her. But she understood him perfectly, fathomed his fears, was on the look-out for his quietly-questioning looks, and met them with clear full-eyed serenity and a face rosy at times with anticipation. "You need not fear for me," she laughed softly, one night as she lay in his arm before the fire. "I shall not change." He clasped her closer. "I could not blame you if you did. From every worldly point of view you would be right----" "What have we to do with worldly points of view? We are out of it all. We are here alone, and like to be. And we are doing right in our own eyes." "I would risk my soul on what seems right to these pure eyes," and he bent and kissed them warmly. "Ten more days!" she murmured, and nestled closer, with her head on his breast so that she could feel the strong beating of his heart. "It says 'Avice!--Avice!--Avice!'" he said quietly. "It is full of Avice," and she pressed still closer. So the great day came, the greatest day either of their lives had known. Wulf had found sleep impossible. His heart, full-charged, felt like to burst its mortal bounds. He rose quietly in the dark and went out into the soft twilight of the dawn--to greet the coming of the perfect day. And she, as impossible of sleep as he, heard him in spite of all his caution, and laughed softly to herself for very happiness in him and in herself. And when he had gone, she thanked God for this great gift of a true man's love, and for that in herself which responded to it so fully. She had not a doubt nor a fear. The smallest of either would have barred her from him. But there was not the smallest shadow between them. Their hearts were one. It was meet and good that their lives should be one also. Wulfrey paced the beach out there and found the silent darkness soothing to his bounding senses. It was late April. The air was sweet and fresh. The sea just breathed in its sleep and no more. The water rippled silently up the hard sand with scarce a murmur. The darkness of the eastern sky thinned as he paced and watched. There came a soft suffusion of light there. It throbbed and grew. A faint touch of carmine outlined a cloud above it. The darkness seemed to fade and melt out of the sky. All the tiny clouds above him turned their faces to the east and flushed rose-red with the joy of the new day. He climbed a hill and caught the first golden gleam of the rising sun. His eyes shone, and his face. In his eyes two suns were reflected. But there was only one sun. And they were two and now were to become one. The Perfect Day had dawned. And just as she, lying in her bed with her face in her hands, had thanked God for His goodness, so he. He flung his right hand up towards the sun in the brightening sky and said deeply, "My God, I thank Thee for this day and most of all for her!" And, down below, he saw her coming out of the house towards him. He sprang down to meet her, caught her hands, and looked right down through her eyes into her heart, and was satisfied. LX Arm in arm they paced the beach till the sun was well up, and their bank of sand shone in the flood of golden light as it had never shone before,--fresh and sweet as if but new-created. A light wind had come with the sun. The small waves came hurrying in as though they were invited guests. At sight of the wedding-party they broke into crisp white laughter, curled themselves over in league-long sickles of tenderest lucent green, and raced up the sands to their feet in long soft swirls of liquid amber, laced with bubbles and edged with creamy foam. "They haste to the wedding, to pay their tribute to the only bride they have ever set eyes on," said Wulf, as they stopped to watch them. "And each one is glad to give his life for a single peep at her." "Foolish little waves," laughed she. "I am going to make their very close acquaintance presently. How beautiful the sea is this morning!"--as her eyes travelled out to the wide blue sweep beyond, with its dapple of purple shadows. "The most beautiful sea and the most wonderful morning that ever was," he asserted heartily. "But it is only a beginning. There will be many more like it. And still better." "I am so glad it is so sweet a day. A dull one would have troubled me." "But it could not possibly have been anything else." "Oh, but it could." "In mere outward accident perhaps. But I've got the sun inside me. I wonder it doesn't show through." "It does," she laughed joyously. "You are all aglow." "And never man had better reason. I would not change places with all the kings of all the earth rolled into one." "Nor I with all the queens. We are happier here by far with nothing but ourselves." "Ourselves, and our Love, and infinite Hope. Now let us go and eat. My bride must not starve. That would be a bad beginning. Did you sleep?" "Not a wink. I heard you go out." "And I was pluming myself on not having made a sound." While she was making cakes he busied himself making a pen out of a quill he had picked up on the beach, and she smiled when she saw what he was at. "And the ink?" she asked. "I've got it all ready. I always carry some with me in case of need," at which she knitted her brows prettily and looked puzzled. After breakfast she said, "Now you must leave me for a couple of hours. I am going to thank the waves for their good wishes and then I shall go to the fresh-water pool." "You will be very careful.. You won't get yourself drowned." "I will be very careful. And you!" "I will go across to the spit. But when we are wed----" "Yes--then!" she nodded rosily, and he kissed her and went off past the fresh-water pools, and splashed through the narrows that joined their lake to the smaller one, and so to the shore and into the sea, for the last time alone. He waited till he was sure she had done with their bathing-pool, and then ran across and plunged into it, for the salt water braces, but sticks and never makes one feel so clean as fresh. She was still busy with the princely brush and comb when he came on her, and his heart leaped again at her fresh and radiant beauty. She had clothed herself all in spotless linen, swathed about her in that marvellous fashion of which she held the secret to perfection. To his rejoicing eyes she appeared half angel, half Vestal Virgin, yet all bewitching human girl, and, best of all, his bride. "Be thankful you're a man, and delivered from this," she said, her eyes shining through the glorious veil at his visible joy in her. "I'm thankful I'm a man, but I wouldn't have you relieved of that for half the world. I glory in it," and he bent and kissed it. "For a moment I thought you were an angel." "Perhaps I am." "I know you are. But, thank God, you're human too! Men don't wed with angels.... I must go and dress myself also," and he disappeared into the house. When, in due course, he came out, gallantly clad in a long blue coat with flap-pockets, and figured vest, and white silk knee-breeches, and stockings to suit, she first stared and then laughed. "My faith, but we are fine!" said she. "But, in truth, I like you best as I have known you best. Do you marry in a dead man's clothes?" "Not if I know it. Sooner in my rags. But, to the best of my belief, these belonged to your friend the Duke of Kent. Macro would have them, but little he dreamed of the high use to which they would be put. I borrow them for the occasion. His Highness would make no objection I am sure." "I am sure he would not, and they become you well. But still I like you best as I have known you best." "I will doff them presently. But you are so like a queen that I did not like to come to you like a beggar." In his hand he had brought the Prayer-book, with the quill in a certain place. He stepped up to her and lifted her hand to his lips. "You do not repent you of this we are about to do?" "I shall never repent it," she said, with dancing eyes. "Please God, and as far as in me lies, you shall never have cause to repent it.... We are here, our two selves, with none to witness this that we do but God.... We are doing what we believe to be right for our own great happiness and well-being.... It would suffice, I believe, for a Scots wedding, simply to declare ourselves man and wife. But I have thought it would please us both to do something more. We are not entering upon this new estate lightly or without due thought.... It will, I know, be to both our minds and comforting to both our hearts, to think that in our loneliness here we have done all we could to supply the deficiencies for which we are not to blame." He spoke with very great emotion. She rejoiced in this fresh evidence of the heights and depths of his nature and his essential goodness of heart, though indeed she had not needed it. Her great dark eyes, fixed on his, were abrim with happy tears. "So," he continued, "We will read together the Form for the Solemnization of Matrimony in this Prayer-book, and then we will inscribe on the front leaf of it the fact that this day we have become man and wife. We will sign our names to it, and we can do no more to comply with man's law.... Is that your will, my dear?" "Yes." "Then here we will kneel and wed," and down they knelt in the sand, with a clear sky and bright sun above, and the blue sea that held them captive dancing and laughing in front; and holding the book between them he read the Service aloud in a deep and reverent voice. Parts of it were of course somewhat incongruous to their situation, but he would not slur or miss a word. The statement that they were gathered together in the face of this congregation almost provoked her to an explosion. For out of the corner of her eye, as she followed his reading, a slight movement on the side of an adjacent sandhill showed her a rabbit, sitting up and watching them with critical attention, and it looked to her just like the frowsy old female in black she had seen hovering about the skirts of a wedding in a London church. And there were parts that brought the colour to her face, though she was familiar with them. Applied to oneself they seemed to hold new point and meaning. However, he read bravely on. No one interfered to show any just cause why they should not lawfully be joined together, nor had either of them any confession of impediment to make. At the "Wilt thou----?" he answered heartily, "I will." And waited for her to do the same when her turn came. When it came to--"Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?"--he answered boldly,--"God." Then they took hands and plighted their troth, reciting the words in the book. But when it came to the putting on of the ring there came an interlude not provided for in the Marriage Service. He had duly provided a plain gold wedding ring. "Where did you get it?" she asked with a look of surprise. "I found it among Macro's treasures." "It must be some dead woman's, then. I would sooner not. Can we not leave that out? Will it make any difference?" "No, dear. It will make no difference to our being truly wed." "Then please go on without it." So they left the ring out and read on to the end together. He closed the book and drew her to him as they knelt, and kissed her as his wife. "Now," he said, lifting her up. "We will put on record the most wonderful thing that has ever happened on this island, and then we will go home and prepare the marriage-feast.... I wonder now if James Elwes, M.A., late of Brasenose College, Oxford, is aware of the high use to which his Prayer-book is being put,"--as he pointed to the name inscribed on the fly-leaf, and turned over to the blank on the other side. "Do you think they know?" "I do not see why not. But as we never knew him, nor he us, it is possible he is not present." And suddenly those words at the beginning of the Marriage Service assumed a new and mighty significance for her. "In the face of this congregation" might mean more than she had ever dreamed of. Perhaps her mother had been there---- If she had, if she should be here now--it, was somewhat startling to think of--she would be glad, for she would know how good and true a man this was. But he was busily writing, and at the sight she cried, "Oh!"--for the writing was red and the ink was drawn from a little jag he had made in his arm. "In blood," she said, with a touch of dismay. "It could not be put to better use," he laughed. "It is all at your service ... to the very last drop.... How begin better than by setting down here that we are one till death?" "What you said made me think that perhaps my mother had been with us----" "I am sure she was, and mine too.... They will both approve, you may be sure.... Here is what I have written-- "'I, Wulfrey Dale, do hereby declare that I have this day taken Avice Drummond to be my lawful wedded wife.' And for you, 'I, Avice Drummond, do hereby declare that I have this day taken Wulfrey Dale to be my lawful wedded husband.' Now I will sign.... And you will sign there ... and I will add the date as far as we know it ... and our present place of abode--Sable Island." He held the book till the writing was dry, then kissed her signature. "It is the first time I have set eyes on your handwriting," he said. "It is like yourself--clear and strong and true ... Mistress Dale,"--with a smiling bow, as he handed her the book,--"your marriage-lines! You will like to keep them." "And the pen, please," she said, holding out her hand for it, and wrapping it and the book in a fold of her white robe. "These will be more to me than all the treasures of the world." He put his arm round her and they went slowly home--man and wife. BOOK V GARDEN OF EDEN LXI Happy? If all newly-married folk could find such happiness as was theirs, what a wonderful world it would be! From every worldly point of view they had nothing. They were outcasts, paupers, dependent for the food they ate and the clothes they wore, on Nature and the caprice of the sea. Yet, having nothing, they had everything, since they had one another. If he had rejoiced in her before, and loved her with a love akin to pain in the repression he subjected it to, he loved her now a thousand times more, and she filled him with a joy that knew no bounds. Time, he said to himself, would not suffice for all their love, it would fill eternity. The days were never long enough for them. In this new joy of life and perfected fellowship they forgot their years at times, and were like a pair of children, endowed with the freedom of time and space and hearts attuned to the most perfect enjoyment of these new attributes. They made long journeys and explored every inch of their territory--sleeping out at times in the side of a sandhill under the soft summer night. And those were wondrous times. --To lie there flat on their blanket, side by side, chin in hand like children, his arm about her, and watch the red sun sink into the water at the end of his fiery trail, while all the sky above burned crimson right into the east behind them.--To watch, with bated breath, the rabbits creeping out to feed and frolic about them, all unconscious of their presence.--To lie and watch the colours fade slowly in the darkening sky, and the stars come out till the whole dark dome was a never-failing marvel of delight.--Or, on the other shore, to lie and watch the moonbeams dancing on the sleeping bosom of the sea.--To feel oneself oneself in the midst of it all--a part of it all--the height and the width and the immensity and wonder of it all.--To feel his arm enfolding her, and all that that meant to them both.--To feel the warmth of life, and all the mighty joy of it, throbbing in her slender body as he drew her closer.--To know, as he knew, that God lived and had given her to him, and that she loved him with every fibre of her being, as he loved her.... Happy? At times, so full was her heart that she wondered if such happiness was right for mortals to enjoy, and so, if it could last. And when she shared that with him, as they shared everything in common, he reasoned her back to comfort. "Happiness and health are life's proper conditions," he asserted, with such hearty conviction that her doubts hid their heads. "Sorrow and sickness come of trespass, somehow, somewhere, somewhen, though it is not always easy to trace them back to first causes. But, without doubt, people were meant to be as healthy and happy as it is possible for them to be." "But I have known people suffer who, I am sure, never did any wrong--none, that is, deserving of suffering such as they had. In fact," she mused, "it seems to me that the good people suffer most and the wicked prosper." "That is as we judge. But we see only the outsides of things and we are purblind at best. Nature has certain laws, and God has certain laws--though a parson could tell you more about these than I can. And if those laws are broken the results have to be borne, and sometimes they run on and on and fall on innocent people." "It doesn't seem very fair." "The laws cannot be altered for individuals or exceptional cases. Fathers sin and the children suffer. But the blame is the fathers'." "Yes," she nodded, and perhaps she was thinking of her own case. "So you've no need to fear being as happy as you can," he added quickly. "God meant you for happiness, and truly, I think we have more certainty of it here than we might have had elsewhere." "I am sure of it and I am happy," and she nestled still closer under his folding arm. But they had their strenuous working times as well, and enjoyed them equally. He developed his new-found capacity for carpentering. Made her more chairs and a table, added to the comfort of their house in many ways. And she kept it all in perfect order, and attended to the cooking, and proved herself a most admirable housewife and helpmate. They were down almost to fundamentals. Their life--partaking as it did of the development of the ages, and so of the wider freedom of thought and feeling, was the life of the ancients and not far from idyllic. The hunter went forth to the chase--though it was only rabbits--and the fisherman to the lake, and brought home his spoils to his waiting mate, and they ate of them and were content. They enjoyed the most perfect health, and for society they had one another and desired no more--at all events, no outsiders. They had storms and mists and spells of dull weather, but their house was proof against all assault from without, and warm and bright with their abounding love. They had fire and light and books and themselves, and always in time the sun shone out again, and they enjoyed it the more perhaps for its frequent defaults. They had their trying times too. Stores had to be replenished from the pile, and, after that dreadful experience before they were married, she would not be left behind. "I do not care what happens if we are together," she said. "The worst that could happen would be nothing compared with that other time," and he could not gainsay her. So whenever he had to go she went also, and they chose their day with care and made a picnic of it, and came home laden with spoils. Only once they got caught by one of those swift-travelling mists which seemed to spring from nowhere. It swept over them just as they were preparing to leave, and in the twinkling of an eye they were prisoners, bound clammily to the pile till it should pass. For in that close-clinging bank, as thick as wet cotton-wool, all sense of direction was gone in a moment. They could not see a foot before them, the pile was pitted with death-traps, a step might be fatal. They had both come lightly clad, for the day had been warm and the wreckage claimed unhampered limbs. Fortunately they had come upon a case of blankets during their operations. "Sit you down here," he said, as he felt her shivering under his arm, "And I'll get you some blankets." "You won't get yourself lost?" she asked anxiously. "Not if you will keep calling to me," and he crawled away in search of the case, while she sat calling, "Wulf ... Wulf ... Wulf," and he answered her, "Avice ... Avice ... Avice," and at last a shout, "I've got it." And presently his muffled "Avice ... Avice ... Avice," drew near again, and he loomed through the fog like a creeping ghost, and taking her arm they crept together from blanket to blanket, which he had spread as a guide, till they came to the case itself. He hauled out more of its contents till there was room inside for both of them, and they crawled into their nest and in time got warm and comfortable. The fog showed no sign of lifting, so before it got quite dark he crawled out again, she calling to him as before, and found a cask of rum, of which there was always plenty about, and one of pork, and on these they supped as best they could. The writhing and creaking of the pile, as the tide rose and fell, caused her some alarm. But he explained it all to her, and after a time she fell asleep with his arm about her, and they were wakened to a clear bright morning by the shrieking and squabbling of the birds over the barrel of pork, which he had left standing open. The barrel itself and all the pile adjacent seemed suddenly to have sprouted feathers. It was alive with fiercely-beating wings and jerking feathered necks and squirming feathered bodies, and cold hard little glassy eyes, and cruel rending beaks, and shrill angry cries. "How hideous they are!" she said, shrinking back into the case. "It is the great fight for life. They seem always hungry." The barrel stood on end. The fortunate ones among the feathered pirates wormed themselves in, and tore and rent at the food, regardless of the shrill expostulations of their fellows and the beaks and claws that tore and rent at them in turn, till the barrel itself was lost under a seething mass of shrieking, fiercely-struggling birds. They pecked at one another's glassy eyes, they struck wildly with their wings, they clawed with somewhat futile feet, and all the time screamed at the tops of their voices as though they were trying who could scream the loudest. "I wish they'd empty it and go," said she, and he wrenched down a slat of wood and leaned out with a blanket over his head and arm, and succeeded at last in tipping the barrel over, and pork and pirates rolled out together. It was all cleaned up in five minutes and the cloud drifted away after other prey. The disappointed ones swooped round the empty barrel for a time, and some of the bolder, or more hungry, or least intelligent, came fluttering at the opening in the blanket-box as though set on fresh meat at any cost, and he had to beat them back with his slat. It was only when a score or more were flopping brokenly about the pile in front of the box that the rest grew tired of so losing a game and sped away to join the main body. As soon as the way was clear, he helped her out of her nest and they got to their raft, and eventually safely home. But that was only an incident, though it confirmed her dislike and dread of the pile. She still always insisted on going with him when he had to go, and at such times they laboured long and hard, and got in supplies enough for many weeks, and so went out there as seldom as possible. LXII So, working, wandering, bathing, reading, hunting, fishing, eating, sleeping, with hearts and minds stripped bare to one another and every thought in common, they lived that first golden year of their married life, and grew into still closer fellowship and communion, into still clearer understanding of one another, into still greater love,--although, at the beginning, all this would have seemed to them impossible. But there are always heights and depths beyond, and will be, until the final heights are scaled--and doubtless even then also. And now, to one such depth and height they were drawing near, with a touch of not unnatural fear on her part, as to an experience unknown and invested with all the possibilities of life and death, and new life. He cheered her with his own great confidence; and her reliance on his professional knowledge, and the love he bore her, comforted her mightily. But they both knew full well that, given all the knowledge and love in the world, the certain issue of this great matter still lay beyond the utmost power of man; and it sent them to their knees and brought them nigher heaven than ever in their lives before. It also set her very busily to work on tiny garments, which she had to contrive as best she could from her very scant materials. And it set him to the making of a cradle out of a very carefully-cleaned and sand-scrubbed pork-barrel, which turned out an immense success and filled him with great pride of accomplishment. She was in the very best of health, without a trouble on her mind, and rejoicing more than ever in his joy and pride in her. And these and the free open-air life they led all made for good. He would not permit her a despondent thought, though as the time drew near she not seldom, for his sake, assumed a braver and more cheerful aspect than her heart actually warranted. But all went well, and within a day or two of the anniversary of their wedding-day, their son, Wulfrey, was born and proved himself at once a true Islander, lusty both of lung and limb. Prouder and happier father and mother, and more wonderful baby, it is safe to say that island never saw. And if their days had been full of delight before, the coming of Little Wulf filled them quite three times as full. For there was Little Wulf's own happiness, which was patent to all,--and his mother's rapture in him, and his father's,--and his father's mighty joy in them both,--and her joy in his joy,--and so on all round the compass;--and deep below and high above and all through it all, their unbounded thankfulness for safe deliverance from peril. If he had admired and loved her as a maid, and loved and rejoiced in her as a wife,--as mother of his child he found himself at times dumb with excess of delight. He could only sit and watch, with worshipful eyes, and newer and deeper thoughts of that other Mother, and of The Child whose coming had transformed the world. She got out the treasured old Prayer-book, and they read over him as much as seemed applicable to his case of the Ministration of Private Baptism of Infants, and then inscribed on the fly-leaf, under the record of their marriage, his name, Wulfrey Drummond Dale, and the date of his birth as nearly as they knew it--with the same pen as before, in the same red ink, and from the same glad source. And now indeed their days were full, and their nights, for Master Wulfrey had an appetite that brooked no waiting, and he ruled that household with a lusty pair of lungs against which even equinoctial gales strove in vain. But it was all part of the price of their joy in him, and they paid it joyfully; and he repaid them tenfold by simply being alive and permitting them to watch his vigorous kickings as he lay naked on a blanket at their feet in the sunshine. Avice was speedily herself again, herself and so very much more. In his rejoicing eyes all her beauty was clarified, dignified, emphasised manifold, in a way that he would not have believed possible. It was his turn now, in spite of all his philosophy,--and at times hers again also--to marvel at all that had been vouchsafed them, and to wonder, with a fleeting touch of fear, if happiness so great could possibly last. The sense of the mighty responsibility their love entailed was upon them. Suppose, by any dire misfortune, he were to be taken away,--what would happen to them? He believed her capable of rising to the occasion for the boy's sake and doing man's work in his place, but it would be a desperately hard fight for her. Suppose they should be taken from him--either, both. God!--he could spare the boy best, but it would be terrible to lose either. And suppose, thought she in turn, either of themselves should be taken! Suppose they should both be taken!--Well, in that case the poor little fellow would linger behind but a very short time. They would soon all be together again. But such black thoughts, natural as they were, inevitable almost, still partook, to both their minds, of basest ingratitude and lack of trust. And yet they did high service, for, when they came upon them their souls went down on their knees, and there they found strength and joyousness again. Little Wulf--but they very early began to call him Cubbie, it seemed so appropriate--fulfilled all the promise of his advent. He was a marvellous child. He crawled vigorously at nine months, and headed straight across the soft yellow sand for the water, like a true Islander, born of freedom and the open air and the sunshine, the moment he discovered this new power. And they followed him, foot by foot, with beaming faces, as he wallowed along like a well-developed white frog, digging his little snub nose into the sand at times, but gurgling and laughing all the same, and struggling on without a look to right or left, intent only on the water in front. At the lip of the tide, where it came creaming up the beach in long soft swirls of amber, laced with bubbles and edged with filmy foam, she was for snatching him up. But Wulf stayed her. He wanted to see what the boy would do. He was no stranger to cold water, but he had so far met it only in a tub, never in such quantity as this. He crawled on along the wet sand and the soft swirl came rushing up to welcome him. It was quite two inches deep. It filled him with astonishment and took away his breath. Everything under him seemed on the move. He stiffened for a second on his front paws, gave a huge bellow of amazement, tried to grab the back-streaming water with both hands as a cat pounces on a mouse, and then set off after it at top speed, and was swung up into the air by his delighted father, and held there, kicking and crowing, and striving still after the enchanted water below. "He'll do," laughed Wulf. "He'll swim as soon as he can walk. The first native! And a credit to the Island!" Golden days! If the first year of their married life was all pure gold, this second was gold overlaid with jewels of rare delight. Every moment of it was happiness unalloyed. The boy throve mightily. Avice was in the best of health and spirits, and to the eyes of her lover grew more beautiful with every day that passed. What more could the soul of man desire? LXIII Their Wulf Cub was fifteen months old, and could swim like a fish, and run like a free-born savage, and talk in a jargon of his own which was yet quite understandable to his parents, when his sister Avice came on the scene. She took after her mother, and her father vowed there never had been such a lovely child born into this world before. Their patriarchal life flowed on, deepening and widening, as it went, and so far without any break in its smooth-swelling current. The great gales, to which they had grown accustomed, piled up ever-increasing supplies for them. Within certain narrow bounds they knew no lack, nor would they though they lived there for a hundred years. On great occasions the wreckage even yielded them luxuries of the commonplace which in the former life they had looked upon as ordinary adjuncts to a meal and accepted perfunctorily, without a thought of special thankfulness. But here they were rarities, priceless delicacies to be held in esteem and made the most of. Apples for example. Once their western point was strewn thick with what seemed a whole ship-load of delicious red apples. They had probably been packed in frail barrels or cases which the waves made short work of, and the birds were fortunately away. They spent days carrying them up above tide-level and then transporting them home, and revelled in apples for weeks till their stock went bad. Another time it was potatoes, which they had not tasted for over three years. Wulf declared it was almost worth while to have been denied them so long, to find such new relish in them now. Avice regretted, for the children's sakes, that they could not have them all the time. And that set him to planting a quantity in some of the damp bottoms by the water-pools. They came up all right, but the rabbits cleared the green shoots as fast as they appeared. Upon that he fenced off a patch with some of his superfluous raft timber and planted more, and succeeded in raising a small crop, but they were a degenerate race, lacking the good soil which had gone to the making of their ancestors. Curiously enough, that fact started into expression trains of thought that had been latent in both their minds. He had come in exultantly with his first fruits of the potato-patch, Cubbie at his heels proudly bearing one in each hand, and Avice cooked them rejoicingly and pronounced them excellent. "It will be so delightful to have potatoes again," said she. But he was critical of his own production, as the author of a work--even though it be but a potato--may be allowed to be. "They have neither the texture nor the flavour of the original stock," he said. "I suppose they need better soil than our old sandbank can afford them,"--and his eyes happened to fall on Cubbie munching away at a potato, and hers lighted on the dark little head in her arm. The same thought pricked both their hearts and their eyes met with understanding. As with potatoes--so with children. He and she, growths of the larger world, had found unlooked-for happiness through the accident of their transplantation to this outer isle. But they brought with them the strength of heart and mind that had come to them through contact with that other world. In many respects it was a vain and hollow world. The change had made entirely for their good and happiness. But--these little ones! ... Were they to be condemned for ever to the sweet narrow groove of this island life, which to their father and mother, by reason of the wonder of their love, had been like Paradise? To the children no such transformation, no such veritable transfiguration of life as had been theirs would be possible. They could, indeed, teach them all they knew themselves--all the essentials at all events. They could train their hearts and brains to highest things. But in time the children would feel what the island life entailed and denied them--what their lives were missing. The higher their development the keener would be their regrets. "Dear," he said, clasping her closer, as she lay in the hollow of his arm before the fire that night, "I know what you are thinking. It came on me, and it came to you, when I was criticising those degenerate potatoes." "I suppose it must have been lurking somewhere in my heart," she said quietly. "But it all came on me with a rush as you spoke. You and I desire no better. It has been wonderful ... perfect happiness. But for them...." "Yes," he said soberly. "For them it would be different. For them we desire the very best. And here they cannot get it." And so they were face to face with the mighty problem which thenceforth must of necessity be constantly in their minds and hearts. For themselves, all that the outside world could give them could add no whit to their perfect content and happiness. But for the children's sakes ... how to cross that treacherous hundred miles of sea which barred the way to the wider--in some respects wider,--to the larger--in some respects larger,--to the questionably happier life, which yet these newcomers must prove for themselves, as was their right? They discussed it quietly and at great length that night, but could see no way out, and for the moment he could find no further comfort for her than this--and yet it was much,--"Providence, which has done so much for us," said he, "may in time do this also. Meanwhile the Island life is all to the good for them. They are splendid little specimens, and if they run wild and free for some years they will reap the benefit all their lives. We will hope and pray, and puzzle our brains for them." Hope they did. And pray they did. But no amount of brain-puzzling afforded them any solution of their difficulty. Nothing in the shape of a boat had ever come ashore, and he had neither the tools nor the skill to build one. And if he had done he would not have dared to risk his wife and children in it for so doubtful a voyage. Wild ideas came upon him of constructing a raft stout enough for such a journey and venturing on it himself, leaving Avice and the children, fully provided for, to await his return with succour. But he knew she would never hear of such madness, so sent it to limbo with the rest. He took to lighting huge fires of timber from the pile, as he had done more than once before, but the wood burned brightly, with splendid crackings and spittings which set Master Cubbie dancing with delight, and the volume of smoke was trifling. It occurred to Wulf also that no matter how dense a smoke he could raise it would, if seen at all, be probably taken only for the cloud of sea-birds which were doubtless known to mariners and avoided like death itself--when avoidance was possible to them. That every ship that could do so kept well away from their notorious bank was evident, for they had never set eyes on a single sail since they landed. Of course their ordinary range from the level could not be more than four or five miles, he supposed; and even from their highest hill, which he reckoned to be sixty to eighty feet, they would see but twice as far;--and nothing came so close to Sable Island as that if it could help it. Still wilder ideas he had,--of tying messages to some of the birds' legs--but they were such a vicious set that he knew they would get rid of them at once,--of nailing messages to boards, to empty casks, to anything that would float--but he knew they might float for a score of years and never be found, even if the seas did not strip them within a week. He was reduced at last to that certainty of knowledge which it is always of highest benefit to man to attain,--that in this matter he was as helpless as a child in arms. He could do absolutely nothing that was of the slightest avail. And so he was thrown back upon, and led and lifted up to, that complete and perfect trust in a Higher Power which is the measure of a man's understanding of the great lesson of life. LXIV They had been five years on the Island. Little Wulf was three, Avice two,--as healthy and handsome youngsters as the world could show. Life had been all joyous to them. All the year round, except just now and again when unusual drift of ice came rustling and grinding about their island, they trotted about with almost nothing on. They swam before they could walk, and now were in and out of the water a dozen times a day, and so they regarded clothing of any kind as a hindrance to pure enjoyment and freedom of action, and their mother judged it well to insist on no more than the most reasonable minimum. They never lacked friends or company, though truly the friendship was mostly on their side and provokingly lacking in mutuality. Rabbits and seals, especially baby-rabbits and baby-seals, were the chiefest objects of their young affections, and they were sorely disappointed at the small response their proffered friendship evoked. On crabs this could be enforced by capture and imprisonment, but they found them cold-blooded, impassive playfellows, of altogether too-retiring dispositions, and only to be stirred into display of their natural abilities by provocation. Sea-birds were just as bad in a different way, and fishes were altogether too elusive until you wanted to eat them, when a baited hook did the trick in a moment. That wonderful father of theirs, however, managed to capture a pair of baby-rabbits, whose mother he had unfortunately knocked on the head for dinner before he perceived the mischief he was doing. The babies were welcomed with shrieks of delight and were like to be killed with the expression of it. The youngsters spent hours flat on their stomachs watching them in their boarded enclosure alongside the house, and more hours foraging for them the sweetest and tenderest herbs the hollows could yield. And presently the captives became friends, and were so comfortable in their narrow estate that they had no desire for a wider, but galloped about after their owners wherever they went, and sat anxiously twisting their noses on the beach when the irrepressibles found it necessary to wallow and frolic in the water. At times, for a change, they lived aboard the 'Jane and Mary' for a week or two, but Mistress Avice always had a very reasonable fear of one or other or both of the children tumbling overboard, and so the greater part of their life was passed ashore, with the sand-house as headquarters and all the rest of the island as playground. That a life so circumscribed should never have grown monotonous tells its own pleasant story. But the youngsters had known no other life with which to compare it, and their elders, who had, found it fuller and sweeter in its pastoral simplicity than any the great world had ever offered them. Every moment of their day was occupied, if not with work, then with enjoyments. The elders had to provide for the youngsters, and these again for theirs; and when every single thing must be drawn from Nature or from an accommodating but distant wreck-pile, such provision takes time and forethought. When the day's work was completed they all bathed and rambled far and wide, and it was on one such ramble, when they had gone as far along towards the eastern end of the Island as small legs could carry, that the end came--as suddenly as had come the beginning. They were sitting on the sunny side of a great sand-hill, eating and resting after their journey,--resting, that is, so far as the elders were concerned. The youngsters, who had found walking tiring, or perhaps tiresome, found no fatigue in scrambling to the tops of sandhills and sliding down the smooth soft sides with shouts and shrieks of laughter. A cessation in the sport drew their father's and mother's eyes to them. They were both standing on the hill-top gazing eagerly out to sea and chattering to one another. "Seals probably," said their mother. From where they sat they could not see the shore for an intervening ridge. And seals were always a mighty attraction to the children. But when they began dancing excitedly on their hill-top their father called, "What is it you see, Cubbie?" "Somefing, dad! Somefing funny." "Somefing funny!" repeated little Avice eagerly, and the elders got up lazily and slowly climbed the hillside to see what it was. "My God!" said Wulfrey, as his eyes cleared the top first, and he turned and kissed his wife joyously. "Thank God!" she breathed deeply, as her eyes also lighted on that which was coming. For there, not half a mile away, was a white boat manned by blue sailors, leaping towards the shore as fast as eight lusty oars could drive her, and out beyond her, probably three miles away, was a white-sailed ship of size. Wulfrey shouted and waved his arms. The children immediately did the same, and the regular rise and fall of the oars stopped suddenly as every eye in the boat turned on them. There were men in the stern with gilt on their hats. Then the oars fell-to again and the boat came bounding on. Wulfrey and Avice picked up each their namesakes, and plunged down the hill and ran round the ridge to the shore. With a final lunge the boat came up the beach, and a tall man rose in the stern and asked, "Who, in heaven's name, are you, and what are you doing here?"--while nine pairs of eager eyes raked over the little party. "I am Dr Wulfrey Dale, of Hazelford in Cheshire. This is my wife--and our children. We have been here five years." "Good God! Five years!"--he was ashore by this time, and the rest tumbled hastily out and stood about them, the burly sailors listening with one ear and trying to make up to the children, who gazed with wondering awe at the only men they had ever seen except their father. "How on earth have you lived? ... Five years! ... Not all of you," he said with a smile. "Not all of us. The children were born here. We were afraid we would all have to live and die here. I thank God you are come. What brought you?" "We've been sent to prospect with a view to a lighthouse here. There has been an outcry about the number of wrecks----" "Ay, there are hundreds over yonder," said Wulfrey, pointing westward. "They have kept us alive, but the cost to others has been heavy." "And where do you live?" "Come and I'll show you--or will you take us along in the boat? It's good four miles over that way." "Boat'll be easiest. Sand's heavy walking. How long can we count on this weather?" "Oh, for a week at least. It's our best time of year." "You will take us home?" asked Avice eagerly, when they had climbed into the boat and were swinging along parallel to the shore, the children staring in a vast silence and with rounded eyes at the bearded sailor-men and their amazing ways. "As far as our service permits, madame, we will do anything and everything you wish. We return to Halifax in Nova Scotia, but once there you will have no difficulties." "That is where we want to go," said Wulfrey.... "Better keep out a bit here. There are ridges below there.... Now if you will turn in." "What's that? A ship?" asked the tall man, and all eyes shot round to the bare poles of the 'Jane and Mary' snowing over the sandhills. "A schooner, land-locked in a lagoon. That was our first home. Now we live ashore." "And you've been all alone all that time?" "We had one companion, the mate of the ship.... He died four years ago. Since then none have come but the dead.... We can get in here, I think." The boat ran softly up the beach again, the sailors carried out Avice and the children, and they all struck up through the sandhills to the house. THE END PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON, LTD. PLYMOUTH, ENGLAND. 1917. WORKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR GOD'S PRISONER RISING FORTUNES OUR LADY OF DELIVERANCE A PRINCESS OF VASCOVY JOHN OF GERISAU UNDER THE IRON FLAIL BONDMAN FREE MR. JOSEPH SCORER BARBE OF GRAND BAYOU A WEAVER OF WEBS HEARTS IN EXILE THE GATE OF THE DESERT WHITE FIRE GIANT CIRCUMSTANCE PROFIT AND LOSS THE LONG ROAD CARETTE OF SARK PEARL OF PEARL ISLAND THE SONG OF HYACINTH MY LADY OF SHADOWS GREAT-HEART GILLIAN A MAID OF THE SILVER SEA LAURISTONS THE COIL OF CARNE THEIR HIGH ADVENTURE QUEEN OF THE GUARDED MOUNTS MR. CHERRY THE QUEST OF THE GOLDEN ROSE MARY ALL-ALONE RED WRATH BEES IN AMBER (VERSE). 10th edition. 
61803	----	Internet Archive (https://archive.org) Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original illustrations. See 61803-h.htm or 61803-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/61803/61803-h/61803-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/61803/61803-h.zip) Images of the original pages are available through Internet Archive. See https://archive.org/details/talesofshipwreck00bingrich TALES OF SHIPWRECKS AND OTHER DISASTERS AT SEA. by THOMAS BINGLEY, Author of "Stories about Dogs," etc. Embellished with Engravings. Boston: Tappan & Dennet, 114 Washington Street. [Illustration: LOSS OF THE FORFARSHIRE. _Grace Darling and her father proceeding to the rescue of the survivers._--P. 184.] CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. PAGE. Uncle Thomas tells about the Adventures of Captain Richard Falconer, 7 CHAPTER II. Uncle Thomas continues his Narrative of Captain Falconer's Adventures, 28 CHAPTER III. Uncle Thomas tells about the Wreck of the Vryheid, 51 CHAPTER IV. Uncle Thomas tells about the Mutiny of the Bounty, 75 CHAPTER V. Uncle Thomas tells about the Loss of the Kent East Indiaman, 104 CHAPTER VI. Uncle Thomas tells about the Wreck of the Medusa, 126 CHAPTER VII. Uncle Thomas tells about the Loss of the Winterton East Indiaman, 141 CHAPTER VIII. Uncle Thomas tells about the Loss of the Royal George, 153 CHAPTER IX. Uncle Thomas tells about the Wreck of the Steamers Killarney and Forfarshire, 164 CHAPTER X. Uncle Thomas tells about the Wreck of the Albion New York Packet, 189 CHAPTER XI. Uncle Thomas tells of the Loss of the Doddington East Indiaman, 202 TALES OF SHIPWRECKS CHAPTER I. UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN RICHARD FALCONER. "Shipwrecks, Uncle Thomas! oh yes, we shall be delighted!" exclaimed three or four voices, as the boys crowded round the fire, each striving who should sit nearest their kind old Uncle, who delighted to amuse them by telling them the nicest little stories in the world, of which, in the course of his reading, he had gathered together a great store. He had already related to them, with much applause, a variety of "Stories about Dogs," as well as "Stories about the Instinct of Animals," and now proposed to commence a series of narratives, "Tales of Shipwrecks, and other Disasters at Sea," a proposal which his little audience, as we have above stated, received with unbounded delight. I am glad you have chosen Shipwrecks, Uncle Thomas, I am so very fond of such stories. I have just finished Robinson Crusoe, and almost wish I was, like him, cast away on a desert island, that I might have my man Friday, and my goat, and my gun!--It would be delightful! I am afraid, Frank, you would not find it so delightful as you seem to think. However, as you like it so much, I will begin my tales by relating the adventures of Captain Richard Falconer, who was cast away on a desert island, and show you how he fared. Falconer was a native of Bruton, England. His mother died when he was very young, and being thus thrown on his father's care, he was his constant companion. Having been a great traveller in his youth, the elder Falconer delighted to recount his adventures, and his son thus acquired an ardent desire to follow in his steps. With this view, as he grew up, he often begged that his father would allow him to become a sailor. His father knew better, however, and always replied to his solicitations by saying, "Stay where you are; you know not the hazards and dangers that attend the life of a sailor: think no more of going to sea, for I know that it is only the desire of youth, fond of change, which now actuates you; and if I were to give you leave, one week's voyage would make you wish you were at home!" Young Falconer, however, was not satisfied with this reasoning, and again and again besought his father to comply with his request. All his entreaties were, however, unavailing, till at length an event happened which put an end to his father's scruples. The elder Falconer held the situation of collector of taxes, and having collected a large amount of revenue, he was unfortunately robbed of it, before he could pay it over to government. Fearful that some negligence, of which he had no doubt been guilty, would expose him to punishment, and being thus a ruined man, he resolved to retire to some place where he was unknown, and thus escape the vigilance of his enemies. One morning he called his son to him, and said, "Richard, you have often been desirous of going to sea, and I have always endeavored to dissuade you from it; but as what has happened makes it impossible for me to remain any longer in the place of my birth, I must now recommend you to the way of life which I should never have chosen for you, but that my circumstances will not now allow me to provide for you in any other way. Here," continued he, "take this money, which I can ill spare out of my little fortune; but since it is all I can do for you, take it, and may Heaven prosper you! May the blessing of a father, whose prayers shall ever be sent to the Almighty Creator for your welfare, always be with you. Here is a letter to Captain Pultney, of Bristol, whose friendship, I am sure, will be of service to you." Then, with tears in his eyes, he embraced his son, and once more gave him his blessing, and took his leave forever. They never saw each other again! Having packed up a few things in a portmanteau, Falconer gave them to an old servant of his father's, who, to show his gratitude in the only way he had in his power, determined to see him as far as Bristol. They set out in the morning, and reached it by noon. Captain Pultney received him with great cordiality, and promised to do everything in his power to promote his views, and when, by his advice, Falconer had studied the mathematics, and he thought him capable of performing the duties of mate, he sent him on board the Albion frigate, commanded by Captain Wise; and, on the 2nd of May, they set sail for Jamaica, with a fair wind. As soon as they lost sight of land, Falconer began to be extremely sea-sick, and he bore the rough jokes of the sailors very indifferently. One cried out, "There's an excellent master's-mate; he'll hit Jamaica to a hair, if the island was no bigger than the bung-hole of a cask!" However, in a day or two, he perfectly recovered, and was never afterwards troubled with sea-sickness. Nothing material happened till they entered the Bay of Biscay, when they encountered a dreadful storm; the billows ran very high, and the vessel seemed to be the sport of the waves. So high did these run, that a ship, that overtook the Albion the day before, and accompanied it, was sometimes altogether lost sight of, though they were not half a furlong distant from each other: this continued for three days, when the storm abated something of its fierceness, though it still blew very hard. The other vessel, by firing a gun and showing a signal, made it appear that she was in distress; but the sea ran so high, that it was impossible to afford her any assistance; yet, the Albion, being to windward, bore down upon her, to be as near as possible without endangering her own safety. They found that she had sprung a leak, and though they had all hands by turns at the pump, yet the water gained upon them. They begged the crew of the Albion to hoist out a boat, as their own was stove. They accordingly sent out their long-boat, with two men, but the rope that held her to the ship unfortunately broke, and she drove away with the two men in her, who were never afterwards heard of. They undoubtedly were either swallowed up by the sea, or perished of hunger, as they were then twenty leagues from shore. The ship sunk in less than ten minutes afterwards, with fifty-seven men on board, of whom four only were saved by clinging to the ropes which had been thrown out to them by the crew of the Albion. From the four men who were thus saved, they learned that the vessel, which had sunk, was a pirate, which, but a short time before, had attacked a French ship, murdered the captain, and such of the crew as would not agree to join them, and that they were only waiting for the abating of the storm in order to attack the Albion. They also said, they were forced, with several others, to become pirates; but whether this was true or false, they behaved with great propriety during the remainder of the voyage. On the 28th of May they made the Canaries, and saw the peak of Teneriffe. On the 4th of July, they anchored in Carlisle Bay, Barbadoes, after a desperate action with a pirate, who boarded them, but was beat off. On the 20th of July they sailed for Jamaica, on the 1st of August anchored at Nevis, and on the 7th of September arrived in Port Royal harbor. Finding that the affairs of the ship would detain it about half a year in Jamaica, Falconer obtained leave of the captain to go in a sloop, with some of his companions, to obtain logwood, at the Bay of Campeachy, on the South American coast; and on the 25th of September, they set out on this expedition. For six days they sailed merrily on their course, with a fair wind, towards the Bay; but on the seventh, the clouds darkened, and the welkin seemed all on fire with lightning, and the thunder roared with frightful violence. In short, a dreadful hurricane approached. The sailors had furled their sails and lowered their topmasts, waiting for it under a double-reefed foresail. At length it came with extreme violence, which lasted three hours, until, as if exhausted, it insensibly abated, and was followed by a complete calm. On the 6th of October they anchored at Trist Island, in the Bay of Campeachy, and sent their men ashore at Logwood Creek, to seek for the logwood cutters, who immediately came on board. The bargain was soon struck; and, in exchange for rum and sugar, and a little money, they got in their cargo in eight days, and again set sail for Jamaica. During the homeward voyage, Falconer one day went down into the hold to bottle off a small parcel of wine which he had there: on coming upon deck again, wanting to wash himself, he went into the boat astern, which had been hoisted out in the morning to look after a wreck. Having washed and dressed himself, he took a book out of his pocket, and sat reading in the boat; when, before he was aware, a storm began to rise, and finding that he could not get up at the ship's side as usual, he called for the ladder of ropes that hangs over the ship's quarter, in order to get up that way. Whether it broke through rottenness, it being seldom used, is uncertain, but down he fell into the sea; and though the ship immediately tacked about to take him up, yet, as evening was now coming on, and the storm had considerably increased, they soon lost sight of him. For some time he swam boldly in the direction in which he expected to see the vessel, but at length he was forced to drive with the wind, which, fortunately, set in with the current; and having managed to keep himself above water for about four hours, he felt his feet touch the ground; and at last, by a great wave, was thrown upon the sand. It being now quite dark, he knew not what to do; but got up and walked as well as his numbed limbs would let him, and every now and then was overtaken by the waves, which were not high enough, however, to wash him away. When he had got far enough, as he thought, to be out of danger, he began to examine what sort of place it was upon which he had been thrown: he could not, however, discover anything of land, and conjectured that it was but some bank of sand, that the sea would overflow at high tide. He now sat down to rest his weary limbs, and prepare himself for death, which, it was evident, was now staring him in the face. At last he fell asleep, though he tried all he could to prevent it, by getting up and walking, till he was obliged, through weariness, to lie down again. When he awoke in the morning, he found that he was on a low, sandy island, surrounded by several others of the same description, and separated from each other, about half a mile or more, by the sea. Finding that things were thus not quite so bad as he had anticipated, he became a little cheerful, and walked about to see if he could discover anything that was eatable, as he now began to get very hungry; but, to his great grief, he found nothing but a few eggs, which he was obliged to eat raw. The fear of starving seemed now to be worse than that of drowning; and often did he wish that the sea had swallowed him, rather than have thrown him on this desolate island; for he could perceive, from their flatness, that they were not inhabited either by man or beast, being only resorted to by sea-fowl. To complete his misery, there was not to be found one drop of fresh water on the island, so that he was forced to drink sea-water for two or three days, which caused his skin to peel off, and made him very ill. At last his misery so increased, that he frequently resolved to terminate his existence, but desisted, in the expectation that some alligator, or other voracious creature, would come and do it for him. One day he discovered a bird, called a booby, sitting upon a bush, and ran immediately, as fast as he could, and knocked it down with a stick. Without for a moment considering whether it was proper food, he sucked the blood and ate the flesh with such a pleasure, as none can express but those who have felt the pain of hunger to the same degree. He afterwards discovered many more of these birds, which he killed. Being now pretty well off for food, he began to consider whether he could not with two sticks make a fire, as he had seen the blacks do in Jamaica, and at last, after many trials, happily accomplished it. He then plucked several of the boobies which he had caught, and broiled them as well as he could. At night, he was exposed to a great storm of rain and thunder, with the reddest lightning he had ever seen, and was completely drenched; his clothes, which consisted of a pair of thin shoes and thread stockings, and a canvass waistcoat and trowsers, were thoroughly wet; but he had the happiness to find in the morning several cavities of rain-water. Having already suffered so much from using sea-water, he now thought of making a deep well, that he might have water continually by him. He took a piece of wood, and pitched upon a place under a bush, where, with his hands and the stick together, he dug a hole, big enough to contain a hogshead of water; then he put in stones and paved it, and got in and stamped them down hard all round, and, with his stick, beat the sides close, so as to make it completely water-tight. But the great difficulty was how to get the water there: this, however, he at length effected, by means of a sort of bucket made from a part of his clothing. Having been so successful in this matter, he now felt greatly elated, and thought he should not be very badly off for a long while; for, besides the store of water, he had, ready broiled, forty boobies, designing to allow himself half a one a-day. Fortunately, he remained always in good health, being only a little troubled with headache, from the sun beating on his head, having lost his hat in the water, in falling down from the vessel's side. For a time he remedied this as well as he could, by gathering a parcel of chicken-weed, which grew in plenty around, and strewing it over the bushes under which he sat; but at last, finding that he might be longer there than he expected, he tore off one of the sleeves of his shirt, and made himself a cap, which he covered with green sprigs, twisted with bark. By the time he had been a month on the island, his skin became as brown, by constant exposure, as if it had been rubbed over with walnut shells. He several times thought of swimming to one of the other islands; but as they looked only like heaps of sand, he felt convinced that he had got the best berth, so contented himself with his station. He began, however, to feel very lonely, and was so wicked as to wish to have companions in his misfortune, and every day hoped either to see some vessel come that way, or a wreck, where, perhaps, he might find some necessaries which he wanted. He used to fancy, that if he should be forced to stay there long, he should lose his speech; so he used to talk aloud, asking himself questions, and answering them. If anybody had been by to have heard him, they would certainly have thought him crazy, he often asked himself such strange questions. He was destined to be visited by companions in misfortune sooner than he expected; but I must tell you how this happened on some other occasion. I am afraid I have already detained you too long this evening. Oh no, Uncle Thomas! Very well, boys, to-morrow evening I will go on with Captain Falconer's adventures, and we will see how Frank likes this sort of life on a desert island. Ah, but Uncle Thomas, this was not a nice island, like Robinson Crusoe's! There were no large trees to make a canoe of, or any goats; and I don't see very well where Friday is to come from! I understand you, Frank; you would like it only if you had the choosing of your place, with plenty of conveniences of every kind. Good night. CHAPTER II. UNCLE THOMAS CONTINUES HIS NARRATIVE OF CAPTAIN FALCONER'S ADVENTURES. One morning, during Falconer's residence on the sandy island, of which I told you last evening, a violent storm arose, which continued till noon. In the meantime, Falconer discovered a ship laboring with the waves, and having watched it earnestly for several hours, he at last saw it tossed by the violence of the tempest completely out of the water upon the shore. He ran to see if there were anybody whom he could assist, when he found four men (being all there were in the vessel) busy saving what they could. When he hailed them in English, they seemed mightily surprised; and asked him how he came there, and how long he had been on the island. When he told them his story, and described the barrenness of the place, they were very much concerned for themselves, for they feared there was no possibility of getting their bark off the sands, the wind having forced her so far; and began to bemoan each other's misfortunes. To Falconer, however, their mishap afforded a source of secret satisfaction, for he soon found that they had on board plenty of everything. They now set to work in order to secure such provisions as were in the ship, as well as such utensils as they would find useful, including a fowling-piece and some gunpowder. They then took off the sails from the yards, and, with some pieces of timber, raised a hut big enough to hold twenty men, under which they put the beds which they got from the bark. It is true they had no shelter from the wind, for the bushes were so low they were of no use; but for all this, Falconer now thought himself in a palace, and was as merry as if he had been once more at Jamaica, or even at home in his own country. In short, when they had been there some time, they began to be very easy, and having plenty of food, were content to wait patiently till God should send them assistance. Though they had plenty of fishing tackle, they found it of little use, as they had no boat to go a little way from shore to catch fish; they therefore set their wits to work, in order to make a float, and at last they hit upon this odd project: they took six casks, and tarred them all over, then stopped up the bung-holes with corks, and nailed them close down with a piece of tarred canvass. These six casks they tied together with some of the cordage of the vessel, and upon them they placed the moveable hatches from the deck, and fixed them, and made the float so strong, that two men might sit upon it; but for fear a sudden storm should arise, while they happened to be at sea, they tied to one end of it a coil or two of small rope, of 500 fathoms long, which they fixed to a stake on the shore. Two of the party then went out, in order to see what success they should have; but returned with only one fish, about two feet long, something like a shark. Next day, however, they were more successful, returning with two of the same kind of fish, and a young shark about two feet long, which were dressed for dinner, and proved excellent eating. They now began to consider what could be done to enable them to escape from their confinement. On examining their ship carefully, they found that it was all sound; and though the violence of the storm had carried it considerably beyond the reach of ordinary tides, and though nearly buried by the drifting of the sand, that there was nothing to prevent their being able to launch it into deep water once more. They therefore set determinedly to work, and after sixteen days' hard labor, they at last succeeded. At length, on the 31st of December, they launched their vessel, and designing to set sail on the following day, they resolved to celebrate their deliverance by a carousal. They accordingly got very merry, and when their punch was all done, they went to bed. Instead of sleeping in the tent, however, Falconer remained on board the bark, while his companions, as usual, slept on shore. During the night, one of the sudden storms, so common in these latitudes, arose, and tore the bark from its moorings, and carried it out to sea, Falconer all the time sleeping soundly below, quite unconscious of the danger to which he was exposed. By the time he awoke in the morning, the storm had so much abated, that he remained unconscious of what had happened, till going on deck to call his companions, he found that he was in the middle of the ocean, far out of sight of land. For fourteen days, he continued tossed about at the mercy of the winds and waves. During the whole time, he saw but one ship, but it was at such a distance, and bore away so fast, that no succor could be expected. At length his vessel was driven so close in shore as to attract notice. He was then boarded by two canoes, containing one Spaniard and six Indians, to whom, by means of broken French, he explained his condition. They carried him on shore, and introduced him to the governor, by whom he was kindly received. The place happened to be a Spanish settlement on the coast of South America. By the kindness of the governor, the ship was once more fitted out, and manned, to go in search of Falconer's companions, who had been left on the island. In fifteen days they reached the island, where they found them in a most pitiable condition. They had consumed all their provisions, and had no means of getting more; indeed, for some days they had subsisted on the most filthy and revolting food. Having received them on board, they again set sail; and it now occurred to Falconer that, in order to complete his equipment, five of the men who composed his crew had been released from prison, where they had been confined on suspicion of piracy. A thought came into his head, which had escaped him before. He considered if these were really pirates, being five to four, they might be too powerful for him and the rest of his crew, and perhaps murder them. One day, as they all dined together upon deck, under an awning, it being very calm weather, he asked the five men, what was the reason that they were taken for pirates by the Spaniards. At first they seemed nonplussed; but one of them, named Warren, soon recovered himself, and answered for the others, saying that they embarked on board the ship Bonaventure, in the Thames, bound for Jamaica, whither they made a prosperous voyage; but after taking in their cargo, on their way home, they were overtaken by a storm, in which their ship was lost, and all the men perished, except himself and four companions, who were saved in the long-boat; and that as they were making to shore to save themselves, they saw a bark riding at anchor without the port of Campeachy, which they approached in order to inquire where they were, and to beg some provisions, their own being gone. On entering the vessel, however, they found but two people in it; the third, jumping into the water, swam on shore, and brought three boats, filled with Spanish soldiers, which came on board before they could make off. "Make off!" said Falconer. "What, did you design to run away with the vessel!" "No," answered Warren, with some confusion; "we only intended to weigh anchor, and go farther in shore, that we might land in the morning, it being late at night." The fact of the fellow being nonplussed now and then, Falconer did not at all like, but, upon consideration, he thought it might be for want of words to express himself better; so he took no more notice of it. In the evening, however, Middleton, one of their crew, came to him with a face of concern, and told him that he did not like these fellows' tale. "Why so?" said Falconer. "Because they herd together," answered he, "and are always whispering and speaking low to one another. If a foreboding heart may speak, I am sure we shall suffer something from them, that will be of danger to us." Upon this, Falconer began to stagger in his opinion of their honesty, and, therefore, he and his friends resolved to be upon their guard. They took no notice of their conversation to their two other companions, but resolved to wait till night, having a better opportunity then, as they slept together in the cabin. When suppertime arrived, the five sailors excused themselves from joining the rest of the crew, by saying they had dined so lately that they were not hungry, which gave the others an opportunity to converse together sooner than they expected. They, therefore, opened the matter to their two companions, and they agreed immediately that they were in danger; so they resolved in the middle watch of the night to seize them in their sleep. It had been previously arranged that Falconer and his friends were to have the first watch, which was at eight o'clock; the others were to watch till twelve; and then, in the third watch, between one and two, Falconer and his companions had determined to seize upon the pirates as they slept. It having previously been found convenient that one of the pirates should form part of the captain's watch, they agreed, before commencing operations, to seize and bind him fast, and to threaten him with death if he offered to make the least noise. As soon as the first watch was set, one of the party proceeded to prepare their arms. In about half an hour, or thereabouts, Warren, who had acted as spokesman, called to Hood, the man who had joined the captain's watch, to get him a little water; whereupon he went down immediately with some water to him. As soon as he was gone below, Falconer drew as near the hatchway as he could, to hear the conversation. Hood having been employed that day looking over the provisions, that he might know how long they would last, the others had not an opportunity to disclose their design to him. As soon as he was gone down, he could hear Warren say to him, "Hark ye, Frank, we had like to have been smoked to-day; and though we had contrived the story that I told you, yet I was a little surprised at their asking me, because then I did not expect it; but we intend to be even with them in a very little time; for, hark ye--" said he, and spoke so low that he could not be overheard. Upon which, the other said, "There is no difficulty in the matter; but we need not be in such haste, for you know, as we ply it to windward, a day or two can break no squares, and we can soon bear down to leeward to our comrades, that we left on shore; for I fancy," added he, "that they have some small suspicion of you now, which in time will sleep, and may be on their guard: therefore, it is better to wait a day or two." "No; we'll do it to-night when they are asleep," replied Warren; whereupon there were many arguments for and against both plans. A little while afterwards, Hood came up again; and after walking up and down for some time, fixing his eyes often upon Falconer, he said very softly, "If you please, Mr. Falconer, I have a word or two to say to you, that much concerns you all." "What is it?" asked he. "Why," answered the other, "let us retire as far from the scuttle as we can, that we may not be heard by any below deck." So they went into the cabin, and opened the hatchway above, that Musgrave, who steered, might hear what was said. Hood then began as follows,--"My four companions below have a wicked design upon you; that is, to seize you, and set you adrift in the boat, and to run away with the vessel; but as I think it is an inhuman action, not only to any one, but to you in particular, who have been the means of their freedom, I have thought it best to give you warning." Finding from this conversation that he was sincere, Falconer told him that he was provided against it already, and informed him of their design to seize his companions in the third watch. "But," said he, "they intend to put their project in practice next watch; therefore, I think it will be necessary to counterplot them, and seize them at once." "As they have no arms," said Falconer, "and we have, we need not fear them." They had several debates about the proper time to carry their scheme into effect, which, unfortunately, took up so much time, that Warren, distrusting Hood, it seems, got up, and stealing softly, came so close that he overheard everything that was said. As soon as he understood what was going forward, he went and informed his companions, upon which they resolved to attack the crew at once. In the midst of this consultation, Falconer and his companions were, therefore, surprised by the pirates, who seized them, which they did with such quickness that they were all confounded and overpowered before they had time to make the least resistance. They then handcuffed them and tied their legs together so as completely to prevent their moving. In this state the mutineers left them till it was broad day, when they came and unbound their legs, and gave them leave to walk upon deck; whereupon Falconer began to expostulate with them, particularly with Warren, as he seemed to have a sort of command over the others. "And what," asked he, "do you intend to do with us, now you have secured us?" "Do with you? why, by-and-bye, we intend to put you into the boat, and turn you adrift; but, for that Hood, we'll murder him without mercy! The scoundrel! to betray us! But as you have not so much injured us, we'll put you immediately into the boat, with a week's provisions, and a small sail, and you shall seek your fortune, as I suppose you would have done by us." "No," answered Falconer, "we only designed to confine you till we came to Jamaica, and there to have given you your liberty to go where you thought fit. Put us ashore on any land that belongs to the English, and we will think you have not done us an injury." "No," said he, "we must go to meet our captain and fifty men, upon the mainland of Yucatan, where our vessel was stranded. Our first design," continued he, "when we were taken in our boat, was to get us a vessel to go buccaneering, which we had done at Campeachy, if it had not been for the Indian who swam on shore, unknown to us, and brought help too soon." [Illustration: _Warren, therefore, ordered him to be tied to the mast of the vessel, and loaded a pistol to shoot him through the head._--P. 47.] When the conspirators had got everything ready, that is to say, a barrel of biscuit, another of water, about half a dozen pieces of beef, and as much pork, a small kettle, and a tinder-box, and were about to commit their unfortunate companions to the mercy of the sea, a sudden accident changed the face of affairs. Before they departed, the mutineers determined to let them witness the death of Hood. Warren, therefore, ordered him to be tied to the mast of the vessel, and loaded a pistol to shoot him through the head, not knowing that it was charged before. They all entreated for the poor fellow, and he himself fell upon his knees, and begged them to spare him; but Warren swore bitterly that nothing should save him: with these words he cocked his pistol and levelled it at Hood, but in firing, it split into several pieces, and one struck Warren into the skull so deep, that he fell upon deck. One of the bullets grazed the side of Falconer's temple, and did but just break the skin: Hood, however, escaped unhurt; but he was so alarmed at the noise of the pistol, that he broke the cords which tied him. Finding himself unhurt, he ran to Falconer and his companions and unbound their arms, unperceived by the other two, who were busy about their unfortunate companion. Before the man that steered could come to their assistance, Hood had unbound Falconer, and stopped the interference of the steersman by giving him a blow with his fist, that knocked him down. In the meantime, the rest of the crew were released, and they speedily secured the other two pirates. After they had bound them in turn, they went to see what assistance could be given to Warren, when they found that a piece of the barrel of the pistol had sunk into his skull, and that he was just expiring. "You have overpowered us," said he, "and I see the hand of Heaven is in it. I was born of good, honest parents, whose steps if I had followed, would have made my conscience easy at this time; but I forsook all religion, and now, too late, I find that to dally with Heaven is fooling one's self: but yet, in this one moment of my life which is left, I heartily repent of all my past crimes." With that he crossed himself and expired. Falconer and his companions now made sail for Jamaica, where, after a variety of adventures, and being again taken by pirates, they at length arrived. From thence they sailed for England, which they reached in safety. [Illustration] CHAPTER III. UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE WRECK OF THE VRYHEID. To-night, boys, I am going to give you an account of perhaps one of the most heart-rending shipwrecks with which I am acquainted; the more so that upwards of four hundred and fifty lives were lost, in all probability, entirely in consequence of the obstinacy of the captain. Four hundred and fifty lives, Uncle Thomas! The very number is appalling. It is indeed, John; but it is nevertheless true, that if the captain had taken the advice of those who warned him of the danger into which he was running, he and his crew might have escaped, as you shall hear. The shipwreck I refer to, is that of the Vryheid, which took place near Dover, in the beginning of the present century. The Melville Castle, a British East Indiaman, after having performed the usual number of voyages, was sold by the East India Company to an agent of the merchants of Amsterdam, trading to the East Indies. She was carried to Amsterdam, where she underwent a tolerable repair in her upper works, and was new sheathed and coppered, but her knees and timbers remained in a very decayed state. Thus patched up, the Company tendered her to the Dutch government, which was then in want of a vessel to carry out troops and stores to Batavia. A surveyor was immediately ordered on board, who reported that the ship was in perfect repair, and wanted nothing but the necessary stores to equip her for the intended voyage. She was accordingly furnished with all the requisite stores, was painted throughout, and received the name of the Vryheid. Having received on board the troops, consisting of three hundred and twenty men, the flower of the regiment, who were selected out of nearly one thousand, to form the second battalion of marines in the service of the Batavian republic, the ship got under way on the morning of the 21st November, 1802, and proceeded with a favorable breeze till early in the morning of the following day, when it began to blow a heavy gale from a contrary direction. The captain immediately ordered the top-gallant masts and yards to be struck, when the vessel appeared to ride easier than before. As the day opened, however, the wind blew with increased violence, and every exertion of the crew to render the ship manageable, proved ineffectual. The most serious apprehensions soon began to be entertained for the safety of the vessel; and the state of the ladies on board was particularly distressing. Some embraced their helpless offspring and wept over them in speechless agony, while others in vain implored their husbands to procure the means of landing them in safety on their native shore, and to give up the voyage. The commander, Captain Scherman, was himself in a very trying situation. His wife was on board, with an infant only three months old; and her affliction was aggravated by being surrounded with so many females, fondly weeping over their little ones, and earnestly entreating assistance of the captain, who had the utmost difficulty to prevail on them to leave him, so that he might attend to the duties of his station. The ship continued to drive before the wind till about three o'clock in the afternoon, when the storm increased to a perfect hurricane. Soon after that hour, the mainmast went by the board, with a tremendous crash, and, in its fall, swept overboard several of the crew, besides wounding four or five others. This disaster greatly augmented the fears of all on board. The captain himself, the admiral, and the other officers, now seemed to consider their lives in the most imminent danger; for though they were so near the Kentish shore, that they could discern objects on land, yet the waves, which then rolled mountains high, totally precluded the possibility of their receiving assistance. In this emergency they hoisted a signal of distress, and after very great exertion, they managed to bring the ship to anchor at the entrance of Hythe Bay; but as it was now quite dark, they could obtain no assistance from the shore, though the wind was not quite so tempestuous. By the captain's orders the crew were plentifully regaled, and a beam of hope illumined every countenance; but, alas! it was but of momentary duration. The ship was found to have sprung a leak: all hands were ordered to the pumps; and while they were thus employed, the storm again came on with redoubled violence. Universal consternation now prevailed, and the piercing shrieks of the women and children, at each successive blast of wind, were sufficient to unman the stoutest heart. Every relief that circumstances would admit was afforded by the ship's company and the troops, to the unfortunate ladies, many of whom were, by this time, clinging round their husbands and fainting in their arms. They remained in this dismal situation for several hours, during which the greatest order and sobriety reigned on board, till about six o'clock on the succeeding morning, when the vessel parted from her best bower-anchor, and drifted towards Dymchurch Wall, about three miles to the westward of Hythe. They continued to fire guns of distress, and kept the signal flying during the whole of the morning. At day-break, a pilot-boat put off from Dover, and coming near, recommended the captain to put back to Deal or Hythe, and to remain till the weather became more moderate. "If you proceed," said the boatman, "all hands will be lost; you are evidently unacquainted with the coast, and if the gale should continue, no power on earth can save you." The captain, however, conceiving the danger to be less imminent than was represented, neglected this advice, hoping that, as the day opened, the wind would abate, when he should be enabled to put into some bay or port, without being obliged to comply with the demands of the Dover pilots, or pay the Downs fees for coming to anchor there. The pilot-boat had scarcely left the ship, when the commodore at Deal despatched two boats to endeavor to board the ship, when the unaccountable and fatal obstinacy of the captain was again strikingly displayed; the crew were ordered to let the vessel drive before the wind, and to pay no attention to the recommendations of the commodore. The boats then fired several shots as a further signal to bring to, but these were equally disregarded. A few minutes afterwards, one of the boats passed close under the stern, and as the ship had lost her mainmast, desired she would immediately put about and stand for the first port. But to this, like the former solicitations, they gave no reply, and the gale increasing, they soon lost sight of both the boats. The ill-fated captain was now in a state of the greatest agitation, and bitterly repented his refusal to take a pilot on board, but it was now too late; the roar of the sea was terrific, and such a tremendous swell, that the chance of any relief being afforded from the shore was completely prevented. The wind now blew a perfect hurricane from the south and south-west; the signal-guns they continued to fire incessantly, and the captain twice attempted to put the ship about, but all his exertions proved fruitless. She was now near Dymchurch Wall, where the coast, for the space of above two miles, is protected from the encroachment of the sea by overlaths and immense piles, and is further secured by large wooden jetties stretching far into the sea. On the first of these jetties the unfortunate vessel struck. In this desperate situation, with the wind becoming more and more boisterous, the captain ordered the mizenmast to be cut away, and all the water in the hold to be started, by staving the casks; while a part of the crew, under the direction of the officers, were incessantly employed at the pumps. They also threw nearly the whole of the ballast overboard; but in spite of all their exertions, the danger seemed every moment to increase. So maddening was the reflection of what might have been their situation had a pilot not been refused, that the officers could not refrain from reproaching the captain with having slighted the advice of the English in the boats: he appeared to be deeply sensible of his error, but it was now too late. The admiral recommended the sheet anchor to be cut away, which was accordingly done, but, notwithstanding this precaution, the unfortunate ship continued to beat upon the piles, and the sea to break over her with such violence, that the men were no longer able to remain in the hold. The pumps had now become so completely choked with sand and mud, that they were rendered totally useless, and a speedy destruction of the vessel and all on board appeared to be inevitable. The foremast soon afterwards went over the ship's side, carrying along with it about twelve of the crew, who were soon swallowed up by the waves. The ladies now began to prepare for the worst, and several of them, for greater security, were handed to the bowsprit, attended by their husbands. The others chose to wait their fate on the quarter-deck, where stood the miserable Captain Scherman, in silent despair at the unavailing cries for assistance of those around him; while his unfortunate wife, in all the bitterness of maternal anguish, was clinging to his feet. About eight o'clock, the rudder was discovered to be unshipped, while the tiller was tearing up the gun-deck, and the water rushing in with fearful rapidity at the port-holes. At this moment most of the passengers and crew joined in solemn prayer to the Almighty; and while engaged in this act of devotion, the sea, foaming dreadfully, made a breach completely over them, so that they were obliged to exert every effort to prevent their being swept out of the ship. From the uncommon fury and roaring of the waves, the signal-guns, which they continued to fire from time to time, could scarcely be heard even on board; and no hope remained of their obtaining assistance from the shore. As a last expedient, the captain gave orders to cut away the anchors from the bows, when a violent swell immediately parted them, and the ship drifted with irresistible force farther on the piles. The morning was unusually dark, and to aggravate the horrors of the terrific scene, the ship was not more than four or five cables' lengths from the shore; so that the crew could see that there were several people on the Wall, but who were unable to afford them any assistance. It was now half past eight, when a tremendous sea dashed with such force against the ill-fated vessel, that, after rocking like a cradle for two or three seconds, her timbers split, and she immediately broke in pieces. About one hundred and seventy persons were instantly overwhelmed by the furious element, and not one of them ever reached the land. The wreck, thus torn asunder, still presented nearly three hundred miserable objects clinging to the various parts that remained above water; while the tremendous noise of the foaming billows was drowned by the piercing shrieks and cries of the hapless women and children. At the earnest request of the admiral, the jolly-boat, which was hanging over the stern, was now launched; and he, together with the colonel and eight females, were helped into it. They had not, however, proceeded far when a dreadful sea broke over them, and the boat instantly disappeared. In a few moments the colonel was observed endeavoring to support his wife above water, when a wave overwhelmed them, and they also sank to rise no more. As the ship was now settling rapidly, each determined to risk some experiment to reach the shore. The captain proposed to his wife that they should make themselves fast to a large hen-coop, and commit their lives to the mercy of the waves. A few of the crew having cut away the coop, they with great difficulty made fast the captain and Mrs. Scherman, and after an affectionate parting, lowered them down over the stern. They had nearly reached the Wall, followed by the anxious looks of those who had remained on board the wreck, when a large piece that had been detached from it, was violently dashed against them, and they were never seen to rise again. Painful as this spectacle must necessarily have been to the remaining survivers, their attention was completely absorbed in contriving means for their own preservation. A lieutenant, his wife, and two female domestics of the unfortunate admiral, still remained on the wreck, and the men agreed to make one more effort to save them. Seizing one of the hatches which had been torn asunder, they fastened it to a piece of the quarter-galley, and lashed the females to the planks, while the lieutenant, who was a good swimmer, stripped himself, and having taken a rope round his waist, the raft was lowered into the water. They had scarcely been a few seconds upon the water, when a violent gust of wind overset the raft, and every soul on it was hurried into eternity. Thus perished all the officers and females who had remained on the stern of the wreck. About this time, the bowsprit was torn asunder from the other parts of the wreck. I have already told you that many of the females and officers had taken refuge upon it, and the number of persons about the rigging and various parts of the bows was now above a hundred, who were driven towards the Wall by the violence of the surf. Those who were upon the stern watched the progress of their companions with the utmost solicitude, and just as they supposed them to be beyond the reach of further danger, a tremendous sea broke over them, and whelmed them all in one general destruction. The surface of the ocean was instantly covered with their bodies, and many of the unhappy creatures had almost reached the shore; but wave upon wave succeeded each other with fearful rapidity, and finally triumphed over all their exertions. Among the most distressing instances of individual suffering, was that of a captain of the marines, who was swimming with one hand, and with the other endeavoring to support his wife by the hair of her head; till, overcome by cold and fatigue, he turned round, clasped her in his arms, and both sank amid the waves. The wreck, meanwhile, was gradually disappearing, and many of the seamen and marines, successively seizing on various timbers, precipitated themselves into the danger they were so anxious to avoid; but it may naturally be supposed, that after so many dreadful examples, those who still remained on the wreck should not be willing to attempt similar experiments. Of these there were now not more than forty-five on both parts of the wreck, which frequently became so entangled, that the men were near enough to hold a conversation with each other. Their fate, however, was now rapidly approaching to a crisis; from all parts, the planks were being torn away, and each succeeding wave was fatal to two or three of the wretched survivers. At length, two of the seamen determined to lash themselves to a large hog-trough, and endeavor to reach the land: they were handed over the larboard side, and after a miraculous escape from coming in contact with a fragment of the drifting wreck, they fortunately succeeded in reaching the shore in safety, being the first out of all the adventurers who had quitted the ship that were successful. Their success greatly contributed to animate the exertions of those whom they had left behind, and who instantly fell to work to construct a raft, which, in a few minutes, was sufficiently compact for them to make the attempt. To this frail structure did the survivers commit their lives; and they had scarcely got clear of the wreck, when a heavy sea struck it with such violence, that it was dashed into a thousand pieces. The situation of those on the raft was now peculiarly awful, from the numerous fragments of the wreck, which were floating about in every direction, and by the violence of their motions threatening instant destruction. They continued, however, to drift nearer the Wall, when they were run foul of by a piece of the wreck, which swept off eighteen out of the thirty-three who were upon the raft, and wounded most of the others in a greater or less degree; at the same time they were driven forward with such velocity, that it was impossible to afford any relief to those who were struck off. About ten minutes after this fatal accident the survivers succeeded in reaching the long-wished-for shore, half dead with fatigue and the severe bruises which they had received. Thus, of four hundred and seventy-two persons, who, but a few days before had left the city of Amsterdam, and who were but a few hours before on board the Vryheid, in full health and confidence of security, not more than eighteen escaped. This wretched remnant of the crew of that ill-fated vessel received from the inhabitants of the adjacent coast, such generous attention, as not only contributed to their recovery, but amply relieved all their necessities. The bodies of the unfortunate sufferers, which were scattered along the coast for many miles, were likewise collected, and decently interred. The bodies of Captain Scherman and his wife, and many of the officers and their ladies, were committed to the grave with every mark of respect. Oh dreadful, Uncle Thomas! Poor, poor Captain Scherman; what shocking reflections must have been his when he found what fearful effects were resulting from his obstinacy! They must have been shocking indeed, Frank. Let us gather wisdom from his experience, dreadful as it was, and learn from it that an obstinate and self-willed adherence to our own opinions, in opposition to those whose experience leads them to take a different view from us, is not only culpable, but highly dangerous--how dangerous, in this instance, may perhaps be gathered from the fact, that a small merchant vessel, which left the Texel on the same day as the Vryheid, took a pilot on board off Margate, and was brought safe into port, without losing a single hand during the storm. Good night, boys; to-morrow I have a long and interesting tale to tell you about the Mutiny of the Bounty. Good night, Uncle Thomas! CHAPTER IV. UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE MUTINY OF THE BOUNTY. Good evening, Uncle Thomas! we are come to hear about the Mutiny of the Bounty. Very well, boys, it is a long story, so I shall begin at once. In the year 1787, it having been represented to the British Government, that the introduction of the Bread-fruit tree into the West India islands would be of great benefit to the inhabitants, a vessel was fitted up, in the most commodious manner, for the reception of the plants, and placed under the command of Lieutenant Bligh, who had previously sailed with Captain Cook on his voyage round the world. Her crew consisted of thirty-four persons, besides two intelligent botanists, who were added to the expedition for the purpose of managing the plants during the voyage, as well as undertaking their transplantation on board the vessel, and on their arrival at the place of destination. On the 23d December, the Bounty sailed from Spithead, and on the 26th encountered a severe storm from the eastward, which continued for three days, during which the ship suffered considerably. They therefore found it necessary to touch at Teneriffe, in order to refit. Having put everything to rights, they again sailed, on the 10th January, 1788. For nearly a month they struggled hard against the tempestuous weather which they encountered on their attempts to reach the Society Islands, where the plants were to be procured, by the route of Cape Horn, but at length, finding all their efforts ineffectual, they bore away for the Cape of Good Hope, where they once more found it necessary to replenish their stock of provisions and water. At length, on the 26th of October, they came to anchor in Matavai Bay, in the island of Otaheite. The ship was soon crowded by natives, and two messengers arrived from Otoo, the chief of Matavai, each bringing a small pig and a young plantain-tree, as a token of friendship. Captain Bligh now went on shore, accompanied by a chief named Poeenoo, and was everywhere received in the most friendly manner, the women clothing him in the Otaheitan fashion, and afterwards accompanying him to the boat. In a few days the most friendly relations were established with the natives, and presents of small articles were bestowed on the chief, who was told that the king of England had sent him these on account of the kindness of his people to Captain Cook, as well as from a desire to serve him and his countrymen. At the same time he was asked if there was nothing he would like to send to the king in return. "Yes," said he, "I will send him anything I have," and immediately began enumerating such articles as the island afforded, and among others mentioned the bread-fruit. He was immediately told that this was what would please the king very much, and a number of young trees were promised to be sent on board. For upwards of five months the Bounty remained at Matavai, when, having at length obtained upwards of one thousand plants, she set sail on the 4th of April, after bidding a most affectionate farewell to these kind and simple-hearted islanders. On the 23d, they reached the island of Annamooka, where they remained till the 26th, carrying on a brisk trade with the natives in yams, plantains, hogs, fruits, &c. From thence the ship stood northward all night, and at noon on the following day they were between the islands of Tofoa and Kotoo. So far the voyage had been one of uninterrupted prosperity. They had hitherto succeeded in the object of their mission, and to all appearance it was likely to result in the most complete success. These fair prospects were, however, destined to be suddenly overclouded by one of the most systematic, as well as cautious and deliberate mutinies, upon record. [Illustration: _They pulled Captain Bligh out of bed, forced him upon deck, and placed him under a guard._--P. 81.] About sunrise of the morning of the 28th April, Captain Bligh was awoke by Fletcher Christian, one of the mates, and three others, who tied his hands behind his back, and threatened him with instant death if he spoke or made the least resistance. They then pulled him out of bed, forced him on deck in his shirt, and placed him under a guard with Christian, who seemed to be the ringleader at their head. To all his entreaties and enquiries as to the reason for this violence, their only answer was a command to hold his tongue, with threats of having his brains blown out if he did not instantly comply. The mutineers then ordered the boatswain to hoist the launch out, and several of the officers were ordered into it. As Captain Bligh now saw the fate that awaited him and the obnoxious members of his crew, he once more made an effort to reason with those around him, but was immediately checked, and again threatened with instant death. When they had succeeded in getting rid of such of the crew as they disliked, the mutineers forced the captain over the ship's side into the boat, and after subjecting their victims to much ridicule, and making sport of their situation, they at length cast them adrift on the open sea! As the vessel sailed away, they could hear the mutineers shouting "Huzza for Otaheite!" It was therefore supposed that the enticements of a delightful climate and the allurements of a continuance of the life of unrestrained indulgence which they had recently led on that island, had tempted them to the commission of the crime of which they had been guilty. The launch (a boat twenty-three feet in length) contained nineteen persons; and the quantity of provisions which they had been permitted to secure, amounted to only one hundred and fifty pounds weight of bread, about thirty pounds of pork, six quarts of rum, six bottles of wine, and twenty-eight gallons of water. Thus abandoned, Captain Bligh and his companions directed their course to Tofoa, in the hope of there obtaining a supply of bread-fruit and water. They had at first great difficulty in finding any of the natives; at length, however, having fallen in with two of them, several others soon collected, from whom they obtained a small supply of such articles as they wanted. By degrees the number of natives increased, and they began to show symptoms of some hostile design; but they were, for the time, overawed by the undaunted behavior of Captain Bligh. As the evening advanced, however, they continued to congregate, all carrying stones in their hands, which they continued knocking together in token of attack, and on the party proceeding to embark with the provisions which they had accumulated, the attack commenced. They had all got in safety to the boat, and one of the men jumped on shore in order to untie the rope by which it was fastened, when he was instantly knocked down and murdered in the most inhuman manner. Finding that there was no hope of lending assistance to their unfortunate companion, they hastily pushed off. Some of the natives got into their canoes, and gave chase, throwing the stones with which they were armed, with such power and effect as nearly to disable every person on board. Fortunately, it occurred to Captain Bligh to drop some clothes overboard, when the canoes stopping to pick them up, allowed them to get a little ahead of their pursuers, and it being now almost dark, they gave up the chase. Seeing that there was now no hope of relief until they reached Timour, a distance of full twelve hundred leagues, where there was a Dutch settlement, Captain Bligh and his companions bent their course across an ocean whose navigation was then little known, exposed as well to the dangers of the deep as to famine, their little store only allowing them to serve out one ounce of bread and a quarter of a pint of water per day. Captain Bligh has left a very interesting journal of their sufferings during this long and hazardous voyage, from which I will read you a few of the daily entries. It was about eight o'clock at night on the 2nd of May, that they bore away from Tofoa, and having divided the people into watches, and put the boat somewhat in order, they returned thanks to God for their miraculous preservation. On the 3d, it blew a violent storm, and the sea ran so high, that they were obliged to keep constantly bailing, and were in great apprehension that the bread, which was in bags, would be spoiled; to prevent this they threw overboard all superfluous clothes, with some spare sails and ropes, in order to lighten the boat, and emptying the carpenter's chest, stowed the tools at the bottom of the boat, and put the bread into the chest. On the morning of the 5th, the gale had abated, and the boat was running among some islands; but after their reception at Tofoa, they did not venture to land. Upon examining the state of their bread, they found that a great part of it was damaged; but even this was carefully preserved for use. The next day they still continued to see islands at a distance; and for the first time, to their great joy, they hooked a fish, but were miserably disappointed by losing it, as they were trying to get it into the boat. They were dreadfully cramped from the want of room, which they endeavored to remedy by putting themselves at watch and watch; one half sitting up, while the others lay down in the bottom of the boat, with nothing to cover them, and so constantly wet, that after a few hours' sleep, they were scarcely able to move. On the 7th, they passed close to some rocky isles, from which they were pursued by two large sailing canoes, but in the afternoon they gave over the chase. Soon after, it began to rain very heavily, when every person on board did his utmost to catch some water, by which they increased their stock to thirty-four gallons, besides quenching their thirst for the first time since they had been in the boat. The following day they had an allowance of an ounce and a half of pork, a tea-spoonful of rum, half a pint of cocoa-nut milk, and an ounce of bread. The afternoon was employed in cleaning out the boat, and getting everything dry and in order. Hitherto Captain Bligh had issued the allowance by guess, but he now made a pair of scales with two cocoa-nut shells, and finding some pistol balls in the boat, which weighed twenty-five to the pound, he adopted one of these as the weight of bread to be served to each person at one time. On the 9th they experienced a violent storm of thunder and lightning. They collected about twenty gallons of water; but were so miserably wet and cold, that a tea-spoonful of rum was served to each. The weather continued extremely bad, and the wind so increased, that hardly one of them got any sleep that night. The morning of the 10th brought no relief except its light. The sea broke over the boat so much, that two men were kept constantly bailing; and it was necessary to keep the boat before the wind to prevent its filling. The allowance was now one bullet-weight of bread and a quarter of a pint of water, at eight in the morning, at noon, and at sunset, with the addition of half an ounce of pork for dinner. The weather had not at all improved on the following day, and their situation was becoming extremely dangerous from the constant running of the sea over the stern, which kept them baling with all their strength; but at noon they were much enlivened by the appearance of the sun, which gave them great pleasure. On the 12th it rained towards the evening, and they again experienced a dreadful night. When the day came, they were in no way refreshed by the little sleep they had, as they were constantly drenched by the sea and rain; and though the men were shivering with wet and cold, the captain was under the disagreeable necessity of informing them, that he could no longer afford them the scanty pittance of a tea-spoonful of rum. The stormy weather and heavy seas continued unabated on the 13th and 14th, and on these days they saw distant land and passed several islands, the sight of which increased, rather than alleviated the misery of their situation; as an attempt to procure relief was considered to be attended with so much danger, that it was thought advisable to remain as they were, rather than encounter the risk. The 15th, it was still rainy, both day and night; it was so dark that not a star could be seen by which steerage could be directed, and the sea was continually breaking over the boat: this continued on the 16th, when they passed a truly horrible night, with storms of thunder, lightning, and rain. The dawn of the 17th brought no relief; and the suffering from wet and cold had been so severe, that they were obliged to break their rule, and serve a tea-spoonful of rum to each. The night was again dark and dismal, and nothing but the winds and waves to direct their steering. On the 18th the rain abated, when they stripped and wrung their clothes, which greatly refreshed them; but every one of them complained of violent pains in their bones. At night the rain re-commenced, with thunder and lightning, which continued without intermission till the 21st, when they were so drenched with rain and salt water during the whole of the afternoon, that they could scarcely see; and on the following day their situation was extremely calamitous. They were obliged to run right before the storm and keep a strict watch, as the slightest error in the helm would have instantly caused their destruction. During the night the misery they endured was excessive, so much so that they expected another such a night would put an end to the sufferings of several of them; but on the 24th the wind moderated towards the evening, and the night was fair. In the morning they experienced relief, from the warmth of the sun, for the first time during the last fifteen days. As the sea now began to run fair, Captain Bligh took the opportunity to examine their stock of bread, and found there was sufficient, according to their present rate of allowance, to last twenty-nine days, which was about the time they expected to be able to reach Timor: but as this was uncertain, and it was possible they might be obliged to go to Java, they determined to reduce their present scanty rate, so as to make the stock hold out six weeks. This was effected by continuing the same quantity for breakfast and dinner as usual, and discontinuing the supper allowance. At noon of the 25th, some noddies came so near to the boat, that they caught one of them, about the size of a small pigeon. This was divided, with its entrails, into eighteen portions, and distributed by the following method:--one man stood with his back to the object, while another, pointing separately to each portion, asked aloud, "Who shall have this?" to which the first answered by naming somebody, until the whole number had been served. By this impartial method, each man stood the same chance of obtaining an equal share. They had also an allowance of bread and water. In the evening several boobies came near them, and they were fortunate enough to catch one about as large as a duck. This they killed for supper, and, giving the blood to three of the people who were most distressed, the body, with the entrails, feet, and beak, were divided into eighteen shares, and distributed as before; and having with it an allowance of bread, the whole made an excellent supper. On the 28th, at one o'clock in the morning, the man at the helm heard the sound of breakers. It was the barrier reef which runs along the eastern coast of New Holland, through which it now became their anxious object to discover a passage. The sea broke furiously over the reef, but within was so smooth and calm, that they already anticipated the heartfelt satisfaction they should experience, as soon as they should pass the barrier. At length they discovered a break in the reef, about a quarter of a mile in width, through which they passed rapidly with a strong stream running to the westward, and came almost immediately into smooth water. They offered up their thanks to the Almighty for his merciful protection of them, and then, with more contentment than they had yet been able to feel, took their miserable allowance of a bullet-weight of bread and a quarter of a pint of water for dinner. They now began to see the coast very distinctly, and in the evening they landed on the sandy point of an island, where they soon discovered that there were oysters: they also found plenty of fresh water. By the help of a small magnifying glass, a fire was made; and they discovered among the things that had been thrown into the boat a tinder-box and a piece of brimstone, so that in future they had the ready means of making a fire. One of the men had been provident enough to bring with him from the ship a copper pot, in which they made a stew of oysters, bread and pork, and each person received a full pint. They now enjoyed a few luxurious meals of oysters and palm-tops stewed, without consuming any of their bread. They also collected a quantity of oysters, which they put on board the boat, and filled their vessels with fresh water, to the amount of nearly sixty gallons. Upon examining the bread, they found about thirty-eight days' allowance remaining. Being now ready for sea, every person was ordered to attend prayers; and just as they were on the point of embarking, about twenty naked savages made their appearance, and beckoned them to come near; but as they were armed with spears and lances, it was thought advisable to decline the invitation, and proceed on their voyage. At length, after a variety of adventures, and the endurance of privations almost unexampled, on the 11th of June Captain Bligh announced the pleasing intelligence to his companions, that an observation of longitude appeared to indicate that they had passed the meridian of the eastern part of Timor. This joyful news filled every heart with exultation, and all eyes were intently directed to the quarter in which land was expected to appear. Evening fell, however, without their being able to discover any trace of it; but by day-break on the following morning, a cultivated coast, finely diversified with hill and dale, appeared, stretching in a wide extent before them.--This was Timor! It is almost impossible to describe the wild tumult of joy, the intense and inexpressible delight, which filled their hearts at the sight of land! Their thoughts rapidly reverted to the varied events of their fearful passage, till it appeared scarcely credible, even to themselves, that in an open boat, so poorly provided, and under circumstances every way so calamitous, they should have been able to reach the coast of Timor in forty-one days after leaving Tofoa, having in that time run, by their log, a distance of three thousand six hundred and eighteen nautical miles: and this, notwithstanding their extreme distress, without the loss of a single individual. The governor of the island received them with the greatest hospitality. After remaining a short time at Timor, they proceeded to Batavia. Here Captain Bligh was seized with a fever; and as his life was in danger from the heat of the climate, he was obliged to leave the island without loss of time. He accordingly sailed in a packet, and arrived in England in March, 1790. The crew were accommodated with passages home as opportunity offered, but though apparently all in good health when Captain Bligh left, they did not all live to quit Batavia. The hardships which they had undergone had so undermined the constitutions of several, as rendered them unable to support the rigor of such an unhealthy climate; but of the nineteen who were forced into the launch by the mutineers, it pleased God that twelve should surmount the difficulties and dangers of this unparalleled voyage, and live to visit their native land. But, Uncle Thomas, what became of the mutineers? Another vessel, boys, was fitted out by the British Government to proceed in search of them. Several of them were taken and brought to England, where, after being tried, three of them were executed. Some of the others who had been forced to join the mutiny were pardoned. From the statements of these men, it appeared that quarrels soon sprang up among them after Captain Bligh's departure, and several of them suffered violent deaths--among the rest, Christian, who you will recollect was the most active among them, was murdered by one of the natives. The death of Christian was the signal for a general rising among the natives, who, by this time, had become tired of the English; some of them were killed, and others, among whom was a man named John Adams, escaped, wounded, to the woods. They were joined by several females, to whom they had formed attachments, with whom they escaped and established themselves on what has since been called Pitcairn's Island. For twenty years nothing was heard of them, till two British vessels, happening to touch at the island, the crews were astonished to find it inhabited, and more so when they were accosted in their native tongue by the inhabitants. Matters were soon explained. They found Adams, a fine-looking old man, of nearly sixty years of age. He was revered as the father of the colony, and ruled with a paternal sway over his little kingdom. He died in 1829. But I must stop. I fear I have already detained you too long to-night, boys,--So good night! Good night, Uncle Thomas. CHAPTER V. UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE LOSS OF THE KENT EAST INDIAMAN. Good evening, Uncle Thomas! We were very much interested with the account you gave us of the Mutiny of the Bounty. As we came along we were thinking what a shocking thing it would be for a ship to take fire at sea. Do such misfortunes ever take place, Uncle Thomas? Yes, boys, they do, though much less frequently than one would expect. The sailors are very careful, and are prohibited from using lights after certain hours. I can tell you about the loss of a large East Indiaman, which caught fire in the Bay of Biscay, and was completely destroyed. Oh! do let us hear it, Uncle Thomas! On the 19th February, 1825, the Kent, a fine new vessel, commanded by Captain Henry Cobb, bound for Bengal and China, left the Downs. She had on board a crew of one hundred and forty-eight men, including officers, with twenty military officers, three hundred and forty-four soldiers, forty-three women, and sixty-six children, belonging to the 31st regiment, and twenty private passengers; making in all six hundred and forty-one persons. The Kent proceeded prosperously on her voyage until the night of the 28th February, when her progress was arrested by a violent gale from the west, which gradually increased during the following morning. So violent was the storm, that at every lurch the main chains of the vessel were considerably under water, and the various articles of furniture were dashed about the cabin with such noise and violence, as to excite the liveliest apprehensions of danger. The utmost activity of the officers and crew of the Kent was called into exercise, and everything was done in order to secure the safety of the vessel. In the course of his duty, one of the officers went into the hold, accompanied by a couple of sailors, in order to see that all was fast. They carried with them a patent lantern, and seeing that the lamp burned dimly, the officer took the precaution to hand it up to the deck to be trimmed. Having discovered that one of the spirit casks had broken loose from its fastenings, he sent the sailors for some billets of wood to secure it; but the ship in their absence having made a heavy lurch, the officer unfortunately dropped the lamp, and letting go his hold of the cask, in his eagerness to recover the lantern, it suddenly stove, and the spirits communicating with the flame, the whole place was instantly in a blaze. So long as the flames appeared to be confined to the spot where the fire originated, which was surrounded on all sides by water casks, hopes were entertained that it might be subdued; but no sooner was the light blue vapor, that at first arose, succeeded by volumes of thick dingy smoke, which, speedily ascending through all the four hatchways, rolled over every part of the ship, than almost all hope of saving the vessel was abandoned. "The flames have reached the cable tier!" was exclaimed by some individuals; and the strong pitchy smell that pervaded the deck, soon confirmed the truth of the exclamation. In these awful circumstances, Captain Cobb, with an ability and decision of character that seemed to increase with the imminence of the danger, resorted to the fearful experiment of ordering the lower decks to be scuttled, and the lower port-holes of the vessel to be opened, for the free admission of the waves. These orders were speedily executed, but not before several of the unhappy passengers had perished from suffocation. So dense and oppressive was the smoke, that it was with the greatest difficulty any person could remain long enough below deck to execute the captain's wishes, but no sooner were they accomplished, than the sea rushed in with extraordinary force, carrying before it the largest chests, bulk-heads, and other weighty articles. The immense quantity of water thus introduced, had the effect of checking the fury of the flames for a time, but a new source of danger suddenly opened upon them--the ship becoming water-logged, and seemed in danger of going down. The scene of horror that now presented itself almost baffles description. The upper deck was covered with between 600 and 700 human beings, many of whom, from previous sea-sickness, were forced, on the first alarm, to flee from below, in a state of absolute nakedness, and were now running about in quest of husbands, children or parents. While some were standing in silent resignation, or in stupid insensibility, to their impending fate, others were yielding themselves up to frantic despair. Some on their knees were earnestly imploring the mercy of Him whose arm, they exclaimed, was at length outstretched to smite them; others were to be seen hastily crossing themselves, and performing various external acts required by their particular persuasion; while a number of the older and more stouthearted soldiers and sailors took their seats directly over the powder magazine,--hoping, as they stated, that by means of the explosion which they every instant expected, a speedier termination might be put to their sufferings. All hope had departed, and the employment of the different individuals indicated an utter despair of rescue. One was to be seen thoughtfully removing a lock of hair from his writing-desk to his bosom, and another officer, procuring paper, addressed a short communication to his father, which he afterwards carefully enclosed in a bottle, in the hope that it might eventually reach its destination, and relieve him from the long years of fruitless anxiety and suspense, which the melancholy fate which hung over him might awaken. At this appalling instant, when all hope of being saved was taken away, it occurred to Mr. Thompson, the fourth mate, to send a man to the fore-top, rather with the ardent wish that some friendly sail might be descried on the face of the waters, than with any expectation that it would be realized. For a moment the sailor who ascended threw his eyes around the horizon--a moment of unutterable suspense--and then, waving his hat, exclaimed, "A sail, on the lee bow!" The joyful announcement was received with heartfelt thanksgivings, and answered by three loud cheers from those on deck; the signals of distress were instantly hoisted, minute-guns fired, and endeavors made, under three topsails and foresail, to bear down upon the stranger, which proved to be the Cambria, a small brig of two hundred tons burthen, commanded by Captain Cook, and bound to Vera Cruz, having on board twenty or thirty Cornish miners, and some agents of the Anglo-Mexican company. For ten or fifteen agonizing minutes, the crew of the Kent were in doubt whether the brig perceived their signals, or, perceiving them, was either disposed or able to give them any assistance. From the violence of the gale, as they afterwards learned, the report of the guns was not heard, but the ascending volumes of smoke from the ship sufficiently announced the dreadful nature of their distress; and after a short period of the greatest suspense, they saw the brig hoist British colours, and crowd all sail to hasten to their relief. While the vessel was approaching, arrangements were made for getting out the boats, so as to have all in readiness so soon as she came within a reasonable distance. Before hoisting out the boat, it was filled with the officers' ladies and the female passengers, and as many of the soldiers' wives as it could safely carry. They hurriedly wrapped themselves in whatever articles of clothing they could first lay their hands on; and, at about half past two o'clock, a most mournful procession advanced from the after-cabins to the starboard cuddy-port, from the outside of which the cutter was suspended. Not a sound was heard--not a syllable was uttered--even the infants ceased to cry, as though conscious of the unspoken anguish that was rending the hearts of their parting parents; nor did aught occur to break the solemn stillness of the scene, save in one or two instances, when the ladies plaintively entreated to be left behind with their husbands; but being assured that every moment's delay might occasion the sacrifice of life, they successively suffered themselves to be torn from the tender embrace; and, with a fortitude which never fails to characterize and adorn their sex on occasions of overwhelming trial, were placed, without a murmur, in the boat, which was immediately lowered into so tempestuous a sea, as to leave them only to hope against hope, that it should live in it for a single moment. Twice the cry was heard from those on the chains that the boat was swamping; but He who enabled the apostle Peter to walk on the face of the deep, was graciously attending to the silent, but earnest, aspirations of those on board, and had decreed its safety. Although every precaution was taken to diminish the danger of the boat's descent--a man having been stationed at each end, with an axe, ready to cut the ropes, in case of any difficulty occurring in unhooking it from the tackle by which it was lowered--yet the extreme difficulty of the operation had nearly proved fatal to the whole of its precious cargo. After one or two unsuccessful attempts had been made to place the little frail bark fairly upon the surface of the water, the command was given to unhook: the stern tackle was immediately cleared, but the ropes at the bow having got foul, the sailors there found it impossible to obey the order. In vain was the axe applied to the entangled tackle. The moment was inconceivably critical, as the boat, necessarily following the motions of the ship, was gradually rising out of the water, and must in another instant have been hanging perpendicularly by the bow, and its helpless passengers precipitated into the sea, had not a wave providentially struck the stern and lifted it up, so as to enable the seamen to clear the tackle; and the boat, being dexterously disentangled from the ship, was soon seen battling with the billows in its progress to the brig--one instant like a speck upon their summit, and then disappearing for several seconds, as if engulfed in the horrid vale between them. The Cambria having prudently lain at some distance from the Kent, lest she should be involved in her explosion, or exposed to the fire of the guns, which, being all shotted, afterwards went off as they were successively reached by the flames, the boat had a considerable distance to row. The interval of its leaving the Kent, and its arrival at the side of the Cambria, was a time of most intense interest; at length, however, it reached her in safety, and the inmates, one after another, arrived on board. It being impossible for the boats, after the first trip, to come alongside the Kent, a plan was adopted for lowering the women and children by ropes from the stern, by tying them two-and-two together. But from the heaving of the ship, and the extreme difficulty of dropping them at the instant the boat was underneath, many of the poor creatures were unavoidably plunged repeatedly under water: all the women, from their superior strength, were happily able to endure this rough usage, but, unfortunately, several children fell victims. Amid the conflicting feelings and dispositions manifested by the numerous actors in this melancholy drama, many affecting proofs were elicited of parental and filial affection, or of disinterested friendship, that seemed to shed a momentary halo around the gloomy scene. Two or three soldiers, to relieve their wives of a part of their families, sprang into the water with their children, and perished in their endeavors to save them. One young lady, who had resolutely refused to leave her father, whose sense of duty kept him at his post, was very near falling a sacrifice to her filial devotion, not having been picked up by those in the boats until she had sunk five or six times. Another individual, who was reduced to the frightful alternative of losing his wife or his children, hastily decided in favor of his duty to the former: his wife accordingly was saved, and four fine children, alas! left to perish. One fine fellow, a soldier, who had neither wife nor child of his own, but who evinced the greatest solicitude for the safety of those of others, insisted on having three children lashed to him, with whom he plunged into the water; but not being able to reach the boat, he was drawn back again into the ship, yet not before two of the children had expired. One man fell down the hatchway into the flames. But the numerous instances of individual loss and suffering were not confined to the commencement of the perilous voyage between the two vessels: one man, who fell between the boat and the brig, had his head literally crushed; while some were lost in their attempts to ascend the sides of the Cambria. As the day was drawing to a close, and the flames were now slowly, but perceptibly, extending, the gallant commanders felt increased anxiety for the safety of the remainder of the brave men under their charge. To facilitate this object a rope was suspended from the extremity of the spanker-boom, which projects from sixteen to eighteen feet over the stern, and, in such a large ship as the Kent, on ordinary occasions rests about nineteen or twenty feet above the water. In order more readily to reach the boats, and to prevent the danger of their being stove by approaching too close to the vessel, the men were directed to proceed along the boom and slide down by the rope. But as from the great swell of the sea, it was impossible for the boats to retain their station for a moment, most of those who adopted this course, were either left for a time swinging in mid-air, or plunged into the sea, and perhaps violently flung against the boat as it once more approached to their rescue. At length, when nearly every person was removed, and when those only remained whom fear had so overcome as to prevent their availing themselves of the means of escape, even at the urgent request of those in the boats, Captain Cobb quitted the ill-fated vessel, and shortly after the boat in which he was reached the Cambria, the flames, which had spread along the upper deck of the Kent, ascended with the rapidity of lightning to the masts and rigging, forming one general conflagration, and illuminating the heavens to an immense distance, until the masts, one by one successively, fell like stately steeples over the ship's side. At last, about half-past one in the morning, the fire communicated to the powder magazine, the long-threatened explosion took place, and the fragments of the magnificent Kent were instantly hurried, like so many rockets, high into the air. The Cambria now made all sail to the nearest port, and, though the violence of the gale continued, she arrived at Falmouth shortly after midnight on the 3d of March, when her unfortunate crew were received with the utmost kindness by the inhabitants, and their wants instantly attended to. Were those that remained on board the Kent all lost, Uncle Thomas? No, not the whole of them, boys. Wonderful to relate, the flames and the explosion attracted the notice of the crew of another ship, named the Caroline, on her passage from Alexandria to Liverpool, who immediately set their sails and bore down upon the wreck. They were fortunately in time to save twelve persons whom they found floating about on a mast. The captain of the Caroline, with the greatest humanity, remained in the neighborhood all night, in the hope of assisting any who might have taken refuge on other parts of the wreck. In the morning they rescued two more of the unfortunate survivers, being all that they could discover, from the floating masses of wreck. But the sky beginning to assume a stormy aspect, the boat which had been sent out was forced to return to the ship, which once more proceeded on her voyage. Was rum the cause of this sad disaster, Uncle Thomas? Yes, my boys, rum did all the mischief. Then we will have no rum on board of our ship, when we are men, will we, John? for it is of no use, father says. CHAPTER VI. UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE WRECK OF THE MEDUSA. Good evening, boys. The tale which I am going to tell you this evening, so far exceeds in misery and crime all of those which I have already told you, that it is almost necessary for me, before I begin, to assure you that it really happened. I question indeed, if the wildest imagination could have contrived to conjure up such a complication of disasters. It must be something very terrible indeed, Uncle Thomas! It is, boys;--but you shall judge for yourselves. On the restoration of the general peace, in the year 1814, the French possessions on the west coast of Africa, which had been taken by the British forces, were agreed to be given up. An expedition, consisting of a frigate and three other vessels, having on board nearly four hundred persons, men of science, artisans, agriculturists, &c, was accordingly despatched, in June, 1816, to take possession of them. The naval part of the expedition was entrusted to an officer named Lachaumareys, who commanded the Medusa, of forty-four guns. In consequence of the ignorance of the officers of the ship of the navigation of the coast, the Medusa unfortunately run aground on the bank of Arguin, on the coast of Africa. After in vain trying every means of getting her off, and finding that all hope of saving the vessel was useless, they took measures to secure the safety of the crew and passengers. Finding that the boats did not afford sufficient accommodation for the whole, a raft was hastily constructed; but in the tumult of abandoning the wreck, it happened that the raft, which was destined to carry the greatest number of persons, had on board the smallest quantity of provisions. When all was ready, the boats pushed off, towing the raft, those on board assuring the passengers on the raft that they would conduct them in safety to land. They had not proceeded above a couple of leagues, however, when, one after another, the boats cast off the tow-lines, and left the raft to its fate, each striving to make off with all possible speed. By this time it was discovered that the raft was completely overloaded, and the articles of which it was composed becoming saturated with water, it sunk below the surface, so as to immerse every person on board nearly up to the middle in water. Finding themselves thus abandoned, and threatened every instant with being swallowed up in the deep, the most horrible ideas took possession of their imaginations; they gave themselves up to despair. With some difficulty, the officers who were on board succeeded in restoring their men to a certain degree of tranquillity. Their own confidence had well nigh given way when they found that they were in the middle of the ocean, without chart or compass on the raft. It was discovered that one of the men had preserved a pocket-compass, but in their anxiety to secure this invaluable little instrument, it fell from the hands of the person who held it, and disappeared between the openings of the raft. As night came on, the breeze freshened and the sea began to swell. By midnight the weather had become very stormy, the waves breaking over them in every direction. During the whole night the unhappy wretches struggled against death, holding firmly by the spars to prevent themselves from being swept away, tossed by the waves from one end to the other, sometimes precipitated into the sea, floating between life and death; "mourning over our misfortunes," says one of the survivers, "certain of perishing, yet contending for the remains of existence with that cruel element which threatened to swallow us up. Such was our situation till break of day--horrible situation! How shall we convey an idea of it which will not fall far short of the reality?" In the morning the wind abated and the sea subsided a little, but the day-light displayed a scene scarcely less appalling than the storm of the night. Ten or twelve of the unhappy men had their limbs jammed between the spars of the raft, and exhausted by fatigue and hunger, and unable to extricate themselves, had perished in this situation. Several had been swept away altogether, so that when they came to count their number, it was found that twenty had disappeared. The day turned out beautiful, and they flattered themselves with the hope that in the course of it some of the boats would come to their rescue. Evening approached, however, and none was to be seen. As the night advanced, the storm again rose; the waves broke over them, many were swept away, and the crowding to the centre of the raft became so oppressive, that several were crushed to death. Firmly persuaded that they were on the point of being swallowed up by the sea, the soldiers and sailors, abandoning themselves to despair, resolved to sooth their last moments by drinking to intoxication. They bored a hole in the head of a large cask, and continued to suck till the salt water, mixing with the wine, rendered it no longer palatable. Excited by the wine acting on empty stomachs and on bodies weakened by hunger and fatigue, they now became deaf to the voice of reason, and openly declared their intention to murder their officers and to cut the ropes which bound the raft together. One wretch, indeed, seizing an axe, actually began the dreadful work. The officers rushed forward, and their interference was a signal for a general revolt. The mutineers, for the most part, were fortunately badly armed, and the sabres and bayonets of the opposite party kept them at bay. One fellow was discovered secretly cutting the ropes which bound their frail raft together. He was instantly flung into the sea. Others cut the ropes which supported the mast, and it fell on one of the officers and broke his thigh. He was instantly seized by the mutineers and thrown overboard, but was saved by his friends. Finding that it was necessary to make a desperate effort to put an end to the mutiny, the officers once more rushed forward, and many of the mutineers fell. By-and-by, the effects of the wine which they had drank wore off, and they sank into calmness and servility, crying out for mercy, and begging forgiveness on their knees. It was now midnight, and tranquillity appeared once more to be restored; but scarcely an hour had elapsed when the mutineers, as if once more seized with sudden frenzy, rushed on the officers, tearing them with their teeth. A new scene of slaughter again took place, and the raft was once more strewed with dead bodies. When day dawned, it was found that in the night of horror which had just elapsed, no fewer than sixty-five of the mutineers had perished, as well as two of the other party. The scanty stock of provisions which they at first possessed, was now exhausted. A single cask of wine only remained. They began to experience the most violent cravings of hunger, and in the extremity of their distress were forced to devour the dead bodies of their unfortunate companions. Some, who, even in the extremity to which they were reduced, revolted from this horrible repast, tried to stay the pangs of hunger by gnawing their sword-belts, cartridge-boxes, &c; but from them they found little relief. A third night of horror approached. Fortunately, the weather was now calm, and they were disturbed only by the piercing cries of those who were hourly falling victims to hunger and thirst. The morning's sun showed the survivers the lifeless bodies of ten or a dozen more of their unfortunate companions, who had died during the night. They were all committed to the deep except one, who was kept to satisfy the cravings of his unhappy comrades. A shoal of flying-fish, in passing the raft, left a great number entangled between the spars. This afforded them a momentary relief from the shocking repast to which they had of late been accustomed. The fourth night was marked by another revolt. It was, however, soon quelled; two lives only being lost in the scuffle. Their number was now reduced to thirty; and it was calculated that the wine and fish which remained would be just enough to last four days; but in these four days they also calculated that ships might arrive from St. Louis to save them. Soon after this intimation was made, two soldiers were discovered behind the cask of wine, through which they had bored a hole for the purpose of drinking it. It having been determined that the punishment of death should be inflicted on any one who should be guilty of such a crime, they were immediately tossed into the sea. [Illustration: _At length the raft was discovered by a small brig, which was sent out in search of her._--P. 137.] Their number was thus reduced to twenty-eight; and, as nearly one half of them were so worn out and emaciated, that it was in vain to expect their surviving till assistance could arrive, (but, as long as they did live, they consumed part of the scanty stock of provisions,) a council was held, and after deliberation, it was decided to throw overboard the weak and the sickly. This shocking resolution was immediately carried into effect. At length the raft was discovered by a small brig, which had been sent out in search of it. Of the 150 who embarked, fifteen only were received on board the brig; and of these, six died shortly after their arrival at St. Louis. Oh dreadful, Uncle Thomas! It is indeed the most awful tale you have yet told us. Did the parties in the boats reach land safely? Yes, Harry, they all reached the shore in safety, though several of them afterwards fell victims to the combined effects of hunger, thirst, and the oppression of a burning sun. Shortly after their arrival, the governor, recollecting that the Medusa, at the time of her wreck, had on board a large sum of money, despatched a vessel to try to recover it. From various causes, the ship was twice put back; and when she reached the wreck, fifty-two days after it was abandoned, she found three miserable wretches still on board, and so reduced as to be just on the point of expiring! Where did they come from, Uncle Thomas? Why, John, they had never quitted the ship. You will recollect that, when the boats left it, such was the scene of confusion, that the fewest provisions were put on board the raft, where there were the most passengers. Well, these men, along with fourteen others, had either concealed themselves, or refused to leave the ship. They managed to secure a quantity of provisions; and so long as these lasted, there appearing no danger of the wreck going to pieces, they remained quietly awaiting the arrival of assistance; but finding their provisions begin to run short, twelve of the most determined constructed a raft; but, setting off without either sail or oars, they were all drowned. Another, who had refused to embark with them on the raft, resolved, a day or two after, to try to reach the shore, and, lowering a hen-coop from the deck, placed himself on it; but, before he had sailed half a cable's length, he sank, to rise no more. The other four determined to stick by the wreck; and one of them died before assistance reached them. Did the other three arrive in safety, Uncle Thomas? I believe they did, Frank; one of them was, however, shortly afterwards found murdered in his bed. But I dare say you have had enough of horrors for the evening; so, I believe I must stop. Oh yes, Uncle Thomas, quite enough for one evening. We will therefore bid you good night. Good night, boys: I will be glad to see you again to-morrow. CHAPTER VII. UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE LOSS OF THE WINTERTON EAST INDIAMAN. Good evening, boys. I am glad to see you so early. I have "a long yarn to spin" to-night, as the sailors say; though fortunately it contains fewer horrors than that of last evening. The strife of the elements is in deed as strong, but the angry passions of man--more dreadful than the fiercest storm--form no part of the tale. I am glad of it, Uncle Thomas. The shocking conduct of the mutineers on board the raft, after leaving the Medusa, of which you told us last night, makes me shudder when I think of it. Intoxicating drinks, my boys, often make men mad. The tale which I am going to tell you this evening, is that of the loss of the Winterton, an East Indiaman, which was wrecked on the Island of Madagascar, on her passage to India. The Winterton sailed from England in the spring of 1792, and arrived at the Cape of Good Hope in safety. On leaving the Cape, it was Captain Dundas's intention to have taken what is called the outer passage to India, but, encountering light, variable winds, he was obliged to abandon his original design, and bore away for the Mozambique Channel. In order to avoid a shoal, which he knew to be somewhat incorrectly laid down in the charts, Captain Dundas steered east. Thinking he had sufficiently accomplished this, he altered his course; but had scarcely sailed in this new direction for three hours, when the ship, which they supposed to be sixty miles distant from land, struck. The boats were instantly got out, and on sounding they found deep water within fifty yards of the stern of the vessel. Every exertion was made to get her off, but without avail. Day-light soon disclosed to them the dangers of their situation. The ship had struck on a reef of rocks, about six miles from land. As the tide ebbed, the ship beat violently, and began to leak, and by-and-by the rudder was broken off, and the copper sheathing of the vessel came up alongside her; but as she lay comparatively quiet, hopes were entertained that they might succeed in getting her off next tide. With this view they proceeded to lighten her by every means, throwing the guns overboard--carrying them to such a distance as to prevent their injuring the ship as she again rose with the tide. When, however, they had succeeded in removing about half the number, the sea-breeze set in fresh, and prevented the boats from approaching the ship's side. They continued, notwithstanding, to relieve her as much as possible, by throwing overboard such heavy articles as the tide would carry away. At high water they renewed their exertions to heave the ship off; but were again unsuccessful. The leak had by this time gained on the pumps, in spite of their utmost exertions. It being evident that the ship was irrecoverably lost, the great object now was to secure the safety of the passengers and crew. The masts were cut away, in order to relieve the vessel, and such spars as the surf prevented being borne away by the tide, were secured for the purpose of making rafts to assist in conveying the passengers on shore. In order to prevent such scenes of drunkenness as have sometimes disgraced shipwrecks, every cask of spirits which could be reached was staved. Towards evening, a party was sent on shore in the yawl, to prepare a convenient place for landing; and the captain addressed the crew, directing them as to the proper course of procedure on reaching the shore, and stating his determination to abide by the ship till the safety of every person on board was secured. This manly address reanimated the drooping courage of the crew. During the night the wind increased, and several of the boats were dashed in pieces by the violence of the surf. Thus deprived of the means of transporting themselves on shore, and the ship, in the meantime, beating with such frightful violence against the rocks, as threatened every instant to break her in pieces, they passed a night of the greatest consternation and anxiety. As soon as daylight set in, they began to construct rafts, of such materials as they could procure. Three or four of these constructions left the ship, carrying about eighty persons, all of whom succeeded in reaching the shore. In the meantime the breeze continued to freshen, till at length it became so violent, that the hawser which held the ship's stern to the wind parted, and she drove with her broadside on the rocks, the sea making a complete breach over her. She soon began to break up, when every one crowded to the-quarter-deck and poop, as the only place which afforded any chance of safety: in a short time this retreat also failed, the vessel going completely in pieces. Some of these were driven on shore in various places, bearing with them such of the crew as had managed to secure a footing upon them; but the gallant captain fell a victim to the waves. For several days, portions of the wreck continued to drift on shore, generally bringing with them some part of the crew. On gathering the survivers together, it was found that the captain, the first mate, three young ladies, and forty-eight seamen, had perished. But the trials of the survivers were not at an end. The natives, attracted by the wreck, flocked to the shore, and, seizing on everything of value that had either been saved or was cast on shore, threatened every one who opposed them with instant death. At length they reached Tulliar, the residence of the king of Baba, by whom they were kindly received. The yawl, which you will recollect had been sent on shore on the evening previous to the breaking up of the vessel, was then equipped and despatched to Mozambique, to endeavor to procure a ship to come to their rescue. After sailing for some days, they reached the coast of Africa; but being unable to make head against the northerly winds, they were forced to steer for Sofala, a Portuguese settlement, where they arrived in safety. Unfortunately, but a single vessel touched at the settlement in the course of the year; and it had sailed about a month before. Finding that there was here no hope of obtaining relief for their companions, they again set sail, intending to proceed to Delagoa bay, in the expectation of falling in with some of the South Sea ships, which touch there annually in considerable numbers. Contrary winds, however, and the leaky state of their boat, soon forced them to return to Sofala. The governor received them, this time, in a very different manner from that which he had shown to them on their former visit, and with little ceremony insisted on the whole party proceeding with his messengers to Senna, an inland settlement. For five weeks they travelled through a miserable country, very thinly inhabited, and exposed to the intense heat of the sun, and many dangers from the wild beasts with which the country abounds. The fatigue which they underwent on this journey was too much for several of the party, who died shortly after their arrival. At length, five months after leaving Madagascar, two of the forty reached Mozambique. Here they freighted a vessel, and proceeded to the rescue of their unfortunate comrades in misfortune. They found them in a most melancholy plight. Disease and despair had been at work among them; nearly one half of those who were saved from the wreck had perished. The others, emaciated and worn out, were embarked, and, with the exception of seven, who expired on the passage, reached Mozambique, where, in spite of every attention which was lavished on them by the governor and the inhabitants, about thirty of them died within two months of their arrival. When the others were so far recovered as to be able to proceed, they again hired a vessel to carry them to Madras; but, before they reached it, the ship was captured by a French privateer. Part of the crew the privateer took on board their own ship, and put a number of their men into the captured vessel, with orders to proceed to the Mauritius with all possible speed. The privateer then continued her cruise, and in a few days falling in with a Dutch East Indiaman, engaged with her; but the Dutchmen proving victors, the remains of the crew of the unfortunate Winterton were once more set at liberty. They at length reached Madras; whence they sailed for England in the Scorpion sloop-of-war. Poor fellows! they seem to have been very unlucky, Uncle Thomas. The rest of the crew, who were carried to the Mauritius, did they get home in safety also, Uncle Thomas? Oh, I had almost forgotten to tell you about them, Frank. They never reached England; nor could the least intelligence be heard of them, though the East India Company caused the most diligent inquiries to be made after them. Do you think they were again shipwrecked, Uncle Thomas? That I won't say: but I rather fear there was foul play somewhere. Without some certain grounds to go upon, however, it is useless to conjecture. So I must bid you good night. Good night, Uncle Thomas! CHAPTER VIII. UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE. Perilous as is the life of a sailor, boys, during the raging of the storm, or when far at sea in the middle of the trackless ocean, he is still exposed to danger even when his ship rides at anchor in the fancied security of some friendly port. I dare say you have all heard of the loss of the Royal George, one of the first-rate ships in the British navy, which sank off Spithead, fifty-six years ago. The sudden and unexpected event, and the vast number of persons who fell victims, caused the greatest excitement at the time. I have often heard of the loss of the Royal George, Uncle Thomas, but I never could get any information about it. Will you have the goodness to tell us about it? With pleasure, boys. The vessel had just returned from a cruise, in which it was found that she leaked more than usual, and as the leakage continued even after she came into harbor, an order was issued by the Admiralty that she should go into dock to repair. After a strict survey, however, by the carpenter and others, it was found that the leak was not more than two feet below the watermark, and supposing it to be occasioned by the rubbing off of the copper sheathing, it was resolved, in order to save time, to lay her down at Spithead, by what is called a parliament heel; that is, by means of ropes attached to the masts, to pull her over so much to one side as to expose the other above water. In the meantime it was discovered that the pipe, which occasionally admitted the water to cleanse and sweeten the ship, was out of order, and that it was necessary to replace it with a new one. As the vessel required to be heeled very much for this purpose, the greater part of the guns were removed from one side to the other; but as she was not expected to heel so much as she did, they neglected to stop the scuppers of the lower decks, so that the water coming in on deck, gradually gained upon them, and the vessel thus for some time stole down imperceptibly. During this time the greater part of the crew were at dinner; but the carpenters and caulkers continued at their work, and had almost finished it, when a sudden squall took the ship on the raised side, and the lower deck ports to leeward being open, the water rushed in. As soon as the dangerous situation of the vessel was discovered, they beat to arms to right the ship, but in vain: in less than eight minutes she fell flat on one side, filled with water, and the guns, shot, &c., falling from the other side, accelerated her descent. She sunk to the bottom so rapidly that no signal of distress could be made; nor indeed could any assistance have availed if there had, for after her lower ports were fairly in the water, no power on earth could have prevented her from going to the bottom. At this fatal moment there were nearly twelve hundred persons on board, including about two hundred and fifty women and several children, chiefly belonging to the seamen, who had been permitted to remain on board until the order for sailing arrived. The people who formed the watch upon deck, including their friends, amounting in all to about two hundred and thirty, were mostly saved by the boats, which the ships lying near the Royal George manned and sent to their assistance, with the utmost expedition, when they observed the vessel was sinking. Their assistance was, however, for some time necessarily delayed, as the swell occasioned by the sinking of such a large body produced a temporary whirlpool, which rendered approach impossible; a victualling sloop indeed, which lay alongside the Royal George, was drawn into the vortex, and seven of her crew were drowned. The boats also picked up about seventy more, who rose to the surface after the ship had disappeared, among whom were four lieutenants, eleven women, and the remainder seamen. Among the officers thus snatched from the brink of eternity, was Lieutenant Durham, who, being officer of the watch, was upon deck at the time when he observed the vessel going down. He had just time to throw off his coat and scramble on the beam, from which he was washed as the ship sunk, and left floating about among men and hammocks. A drowning marine caught him by the waistcoat, and held him so fast, that several times he was drawn under water. It was in vain to reason with a man struggling for life; and conscious of the certainty of neither being saved, if he did not disentangle himself from his burden, he clung with his legs round a hammock, and with one hand unbuttoning his waistcoat and sloping his shoulder, committed it, with the unfortunate marine, to the remorseless deep. He then got to some of the top rigging, where a boat soon afterwards came to him, but he nobly declined the assistance offered, and pointing out to them where Captain Waghorne was in great danger, he desired them to go to his relief: the gallant youth was at length taken up and conveyed in safety to the shore. The preservation of another young man, named Henry Bishop, was effected in a very extraordinary manner. He was on the lower deck at the time of the fatal accident, and as the vessel filled, the force of the water hurried him, almost insensibly, up the hatchway, when, at the instant, he was met by one of the guns which fell from the middle deck, which striking him on his left hand, broke three of his fingers; in a few seconds, however, he found himself floating on the surface of the water, and was providentially picked up by one of the boats. Every effort was made by the boats of the fleet to save the crew; but they were able to pick up only Captain Waghorne, a few officers, and about three hundred people. By this dreadful and unlooked-for accident, nearly nine hundred persons lost their lives; among whom was Admiral Kempenfelt, whose flag was then flying on board the Royal George, and whose loss was universally lamented. Besides the Admiral, who was in his cabin writing when the sudden disaster happened, every one who was between the decks perished with her. Captain Waghorne, the Admiral's first captain, was, fortunately, on deck; but his son, who was a lieutenant on board, was drowned. The water must have been very deep, Uncle Thomas, to cover such a large vessel. But I suppose she lay on her side. No, Harry, she did not: a great number of persons were saved by climbing on the topsail yards, which remained above water after the vessel reached the bottom. She very soon righted herself, and the tops of her masts were visible so late as 1799; part of her hull even might then be seen at low water. Could not the Royal George be got up again, Uncle Thomas? I should have thought that, being quite sound and in still water, she might have been weighed. Several attempts were made to weigh her, Frank; but they were all unsuccessful. Her anchor and some of her guns were, however, recovered by means of diving bells. Her anchor was the heaviest ever made--it weighed ninety-eight hundred weight. In the churchyard at Portsea, an elegant monument was erected to the memory of the brave Admiral Kempenfelt and his fellow-sufferers. On it is engraved this impressive admonition:-- "Reader! with solemn thought survey this grave, and reflect on the untimely death of thy fellow-mortals; and whilst, as a man, a Briton, and a patriot, thou readest the melancholy narrative, drop a tear for thy country's loss. On the twenty-ninth day of August, 1782, his Majesty's ship, the Royal George, being on the heel at Spithead, overset and sunk: by which fatal accident about nine hundred persons were instantly launched into eternity; among whom was that brave and experienced officer, Rear Admiral Kempenfelt. Nine days after, many of the bodies of the unfortunate floated; thirty-five of whom were interred in one grave, near this monument, which is erected by the parish of Portsea, as a grateful tribute to the memory of that great commander and his fellow-sufferers." Good night, Uncle Thomas. CHAPTER IX. UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE WRECK OF THE STEAMERS KILLARNEY AND FORFARSHIRE. Good evening, boys! The sudden and unexpected disappearance of the Royal George, though, from the size of the vessel, and the number of lives which were lost on the occasion, an event sufficiently appalling, is yet frequently outdone, in intensity of suffering, by cases of shipwreck which happen on our coasts. To-night, I am going to tell you about the loss of two steam vessels, both of which afford remarkable instances of extreme suffering. The first is that of the Killarney, a small steamer of about two hundred tons burthen, which sailed between Cork and Bristol. She left the quay at Cork, on the morning of Friday, January 19, 1838, having on board twenty-one passengers, and twenty-two persons belonging to the vessel. Her cargo consisted of about one hundred tons of goods, and six hundred and fifty pigs, part of which were in the fore hold, and the rest on deck. Soon after she had left the harbor she encountered a gale, and the number of pigs causing her to dip considerably, she shipped several seas, which alarmed the passengers so much, that they prevailed on the captain to put back. In the evening, the wind having somewhat moderated, the captain, contrary to the wishes of the passengers, resumed his voyage. The vessel had, however, scarcely left the harbor, when the wind again rose, and kept increasing till it blew a gale. This continued until midnight, the vessel rolling dreadfully, and every wave that struck her causing her to dip so deeply, that she shipped several seas. A great quantity of water poured down into the fore hold, the hatches having been left open in order to admit the air to the pigs which were confined in it. As matters began to wear a threatening aspect, the captain requested that every person on board would assist in throwing overboard the pigs which were on deck, which crowded to the lee-side of the vessel so as almost to render her unmanageable. They found this, however, a matter of great difficulty, and were able thus to dispose of a very small number only. The sea, in the meantime, continued to wash over the deck, and to pour into the hold. Up to four o'clock, on Saturday morning, they managed, by means of pumps which were worked by the engine, to get rid of this water; but about that hour some small coal got into the pumps and choked them. The water then rose rapidly, until it reached the level of the engine-fire, when it rushed in, and at once extinguished it. The engine no longer moved, and all was given up for lost. After a few minutes of abandonment to despair, the sailors, and part of the passengers, seizing buckets, began to endeavor to lighten the vessel of some of the water in the hold, and after several hours of hard labor, they so far gained upon it as to enable them once more to light the fire, and to get the steam partly up again. They were at this time utterly ignorant of where they were, or whither they were going, for the fog was so dense that no object was visible. They endeavored to keep the vessel's head to the wind, but, after some time, they found they were going to leeward. The jibsail was then set, in order to keep her steady, but no sooner was it run out than it was blown into ribbons. About three o'clock the fog cleared away, and they saw land behind them, but no one could tell with certainty what part of the coast it was. It was then blowing a complete hurricane; the shore was covered with rocks, and they saw that, if they drifted towards it, destruction was inevitable. By the captain's orders, the mainsail was set, and the engine-men were directed to do their utmost to get up the steam, in order to keep her off. The steam, unfortunately, was so weak as to be of no assistance--it scarcely moved the crank; and the sail had to be hauled down, lest it should throw the vessel on her beam ends. The staysail was then tried, in the hope that it would enable them to round the point; but the storm was so violent that they could not haul it out. The vessel was in the meantime drifting nearer to the rock on which she ultimately struck. After great exertions they succeeded in turning her round, to endeavor to make for a bay which promised a place of safety. Just as they had succeeded in getting her before the wind, she was, however, pooped by a tremendous sea, which carried away the taffrail, the wheel, and the two men who worked it, the companion, the binnacle, and the breakwater. The men fortunately caught part of the rigging, and were saved; but the sea carried away the bulwarks, with some of the steerage passengers who were standing near the funnel, and at once cleared the deck of all the pigs. When the vessel was nearing the rock, and before she put about, the steward went down to call the cabin passengers on deck. They were on their way up when the sea passed over the vessel. A second wave succeeded almost immediately, and scarcely had two of them stepped on the quarter-deck when they were hurried overboard. These two seas had the effect of bringing the head of the vessel somewhat to windward again, when a third wave rapidly succeeded, and drove her on the rock. It was then between four and five o'clock. The first stroke she gave, the carpenter jumped on the rock; he was followed by one of the passengers, but the landing-place was so narrow that there was not room for both, and the latter fell into the water and was drowned. After striking, the vessel receded; she soon struck again, and continued receding and striking for some time, during which some of the sailors, the first mate, and the captain landed. When the latter got on the rock, a rope was thrown to him and the mate, that they might endeavor to keep the vessel to the rock. Most of the sailors and some of the passengers were saved in this way, one only landing at a time. Before leaving the vessel, the steward scrambled along the deck to look for Mrs. Lawe, one of the passengers, who had distinguished herself by her calmness, and the firm reliance she placed on a protecting Providence. He found her near the funnel, calm and collected; with some difficulty he brought her to the quarter-gallery, and loosing the rope, he handed it to her, directing her to take hold of it, and, when the vessel next struck, to leap into the sea, and they would drag her to the rock. She did so, and was drawn up part of the way, but having quitted her hold of the rope, she was carried away by the receding wave, and never seen again. The steward leaped almost at the same moment, and was saved. The last persons who left the vessel were a sailor and a woman--the latter supposed to be the stewardess. She appeared to be insensible; and the sailor, who seemed to have brought her from the cabin, had her in his arms. He leaped from the vessel, and reached the rock, the woman under one arm; but the footing was narrow, and the rock was shelving. He had room for little more than his toes, and was obliged to endeavor to hold on with the fingers of one hand, but the weight of the woman inclining him backwards, they fell into the sea, and both were drowned. The manner in which some of the lives were lost was peculiarly affecting. A medical gentleman, one of the passengers, had his little son in his arms, soothing and supporting him, and when the vessel struck, he flung him with all his strength towards the rock. The child reached it in safety, though the violence of the effort nearly carried the father overboard. When the latter gained the rock, he again took him in his arms, and, by clasping him closely, endeavored to keep him warm. "Kiss me, papa," said the little fellow, "we shall soon meet no more." The child was right. In a few minutes he got on his feet, ventured a short distance from his father's side, and slipping from the rock, was at once swallowed up by the raging deep. As soon as the steward loosed the rope to give it to Mrs. Lawe, the vessel having nothing to confine her, swung round, and the next sea that struck her drove her against the rock; her deck opened, she divided into two, fore and aft, and every one who remained on board perished. In an hour after, with the exception of the engine and the paddle-wheel, not a vestige of the vessel or of her machinery was visible. There were now about twenty-five persons on the rock. The sailors had contrived to clamber to a sheltered side, but the situation of the passengers was pitiable in the extreme. One who had on but a shirt and waistcoat, was seated astride on a projection of the rock, his face towards the sea. Under him was another, his back to the sea, his toes resting on a narrow ledge, and his fingers clinging in a crevice; while close beside them were others equally exposed and equally helpless. The persons on the side next the land observing some country people--about eighteen or twenty--on the shore, shouted to them, hoping to attract their attention, but there was no answer. The probability is, that the sound never reached the land, as they saw the people subsequently descend and carry off some of the pigs that had been washed ashore. Night came on. About eleven o'clock the wind rose and blew terrifically, but, even amid the raging of the storm, a startling shriek was now and then heard, as one after another, unable longer to maintain their hold, fell into the sea. When morning broke, the survivers clambered to the sheltered side of the rock. As they had now been discovered by the people on shore, great exertions were made to relieve them; but, as the storm continued unabated, it was found impossible to reach the rock. Ducks with ropes fastened to them were sent out; only one arrived, and that they were unable to catch. Wire was attached to bullets, and rope to the wire, and sundry shots were fired; but this means also was unsuccessful. The whole of Sunday was spent in a variety of experiments to convey a rope to the rock, without success. The feelings of the sufferers it would be impossible to describe, and their agony, when they saw the attempt to rescue them abandoned--when darkness settled down upon the deep, and they could no longer distinguish the figures of the persons on the cliff above them, it would not be easy to imagine. Their sole sustenance, during the two tedious days and nights which they had passed since the wreck, was a little salt water and the few scraps of seaweed that they could gather from one of the bleakest and most barren rocks on the coast. The night, however, was not so tempestuous as the preceding, and at daylight the shore was once more crowded by persons, all anxious to lend their assistance. On Monday morning, Captain Manby's life-preserving apparatus was brought to their assistance, but the same difficulty was experienced in reaching the rock with the rope. Shots were again fired from guns and small cannon brought for the purpose, but without success. At length, a plan, which had been unsuccessful on the preceding day, succeeded, and about eleven o'clock two loaves of bread, and a little wine and spirits, were lowered to them--the first they had partaken of since Friday. After refreshing themselves, they were hauled up, one by one. Of the forty-three persons who embarked on Friday morning, thirteen only escaped, and of these one died soon after their rescue. Dreadful, Uncle Thomas! I wonder they were not all starved to death, exposed as they were to the cold of two January nights. It was indeed surprising, Harry, that any of them escaped. Some of them were nearly destitute of clothing. I told you of one of the passengers who was all but naked, and the woman who escaped passed the time on the rock with only her night-dress and a small handkerchief to cover her. The other wreck, of which I promised to tell you this evening, is that of the Forfarshire, also a steamer, which sailed between Hull and Dundee. She left Hull on the evening of Wednesday, September 5th, 1838, having on board a valuable cargo, and upwards of forty passengers. Her crew consisted of twenty-one persons; the captain's wife accompanied him on the voyage. The Forfarshire had not proceeded far when a leak was discovered in the boiler. This rendered it necessary to extinguish two of the fires, which were, however, relighted when the boiler had been partially repaired. The vessel continued her course until the following evening, by which time she had proceeded as far as Berwick Bay, when the leak again appeared. It had now become so great, that the greatest difficulty was experienced in keeping the boilers filled, the water escaping through the leak as fast as it was pumped in. The wind was blowing strong and the sea running high, and the leak increased so much from the motion of the vessel, that the fires were extinguished, and the engines, of course, became entirely useless. It was now about ten o'clock at night, and they were off St. Abbs' Head, a bold promontory on the Scottish coast. There being great danger of drifting ashore, the sails were hoisted fore and aft, and the vessel put about in order to get her before the wind, and keep her off the land. She soon became unmanageable, and the tide setting strong to the south, she proceeded in that direction. It rained heavily during the whole time, and the fog was so dense that it became impossible to tell the situation of the vessel. At length breakers were discovered close to leeward, and the Ferne Lights, which about the same period became visible, put an end to all doubt as to the imminent peril of the unfortunate vessel. An attempt was made to run her between the Ferne Islands, but she refused to obey the helm, and at three o'clock on Friday morning, she struck with tremendous force against the outer or Longstone Island. At the moment the vessel struck, most of the passengers were below, and many of them asleep in their berths. One, alarmed by the shock, started up, and seizing his trousers only, rushed upon deck. When he reached it, he found everything in confusion, and seeing part of the crew hoisting out a boat, he sprang into it. The raging of the sea instantly separated it from the vessel, and though several of the other passengers attempted to reach it, they were unsuccessful, and perished in the attempt. The boat itself escaped by something little short of a miracle. There was but one outlet by which it could avoid being dashed in pieces on the breakers by which it was surrounded. This outlet it providentially took without its crew being aware of it; and after being exposed to the storm all night, it was picked up by a sloop and carried into Shields. In less than five minutes after the vessel struck, a second shock separated her into two parts--the stern, quarter-deck, and cabin being instantly borne away, through a passage called the Piper Gut, by a tremendous current, which runs with considerable violence even in temperate weather--with a rapidity of about six miles an hour--but which, when the weather is tempestuous, flows with a force truly terrific. The fore part of the vessel, in the meantime, remained fast on the rock, and to it still clung the few passengers who remained, every instant expecting to share the fate of their unfortunate companions, whom they had seen swept away by the raging element. In this dreadful situation their cries attracted the notice of Grace Darling, the daughter of the keeper of the Outer Ferne Lighthouse. With a noble heroism, she immediately determined to attempt their rescue, in spite of the raging of the storm, and the all but certain destruction which threatened to attend it. Having hastily awakened her father, he launched his boat at day-break, and, with a generous sympathy worthy of the father of Grace Darling, prepared to proceed to their rescue. The gale, in the meantime, continued unabated, and the boiling of the waves threatened a speedy destruction to their frail boat. It was therefore with a heart full of the most fearful forebodings, that he undertook the perilous enterprise. After watching the wreck for some time, they discovered that living beings were still clinging to it, and the gallant young woman, with matchless intrepidity, seized an oar and entered the boat. This was enough--her father followed; and, with the assistance of his daughter, conducted the frail skiff over the foaming billows to the spot where the wreck appeared. By a dangerous and desperate effort he was landed on the rock, and to preserve the frail boat from being dashed to pieces, it was rapidly rowed back among the awful abyss of waters, and kept afloat by the skilfulness and dexterity of this noble-minded young woman. At length the whole of the survivers, consisting of five of the crew and four of the passengers, were taken from the wreck, and conveyed to the light-house, where she ministered to their wants, and anxiously, for three days and three nights, waited on the sufferers, and soothed their afflictions. This perilous achievement, unexampled in the feats of female fortitude, was witnessed by the survivers in silent wonder. The weather continued so tempestuous that the mainland could not be reached till Sunday, when the nine persons, saved by the gallant heroism of the Darlings, were landed in safety; thus making the entire number of persons saved from the wreck eighteen. All the others perished. Those who found refuge on the rock on which the vessel struck, suffered severely during the night from the cold and the heavy seas which, at intervals, washed over them. The female passenger, who escaped, sat with her two children, a boy and a girl, the one eight and the other eleven years of age, firmly grasped in each hand, long after the buffetings of the waves had deprived them of existence. The captain and his wife were washed from the wreck, clasped in each other's arms, and both drowned. It was indeed a noble act, Uncle Thomas! I wonder she was not afraid that her boat would share the fate of the steam-vessel, and be dashed in pieces on the rock. It was an act of heroism, boys, to which you will find few parallels; nor has it been without its reward. Besides the satisfaction of saving nine fellow-creatures from certain destruction, the fame of the heroic act has spread far and wide, and its praise been on every tongue. Painters, of no mean power, have portrayed the scene, and its memory will be thus preserved. Presents have besides poured in upon her and her father, and everything been done to mark the public sympathy and approbation of the daring and disinterested deed. A coroner's inquest was held on the bodies of four of the sufferers, which were washed ashore. The jury returned a verdict "Wrecked on board the Forfarshire steam-packet, by the imperfection of her boilers, and the culpable negligence of the captain in not putting back to port." Was the vessel completely destroyed, Uncle Thomas? The only part of the vessel which remained, Harry, consisted of the forecastle, part of the engine, the paddle-wheels, and part of the rigging. One of the boilers was thrown upon the rock, the other disappeared in the sea. Of the valuable cargo, a few boxes of soap only were recovered. CHAPTER X. UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE WRECK OF THE ALBION NEW YORK PACKET. Many of the tales of shipwrecks which have happened on our shores, are extremely distressing; none more so, perhaps, than that of the Albion packet, which was wrecked on the Irish coast, in 1822. The Albion was one of the first-class packet ships between New York and Liverpool, and sailed from the former place on the first of April, having on board twenty-three cabin and six steerage passengers, her crew consisting of twenty-five persons; making the entire number who embarked fifty-four. For the first twenty days the voyage was prosperous and pleasant. About two o'clock on Sunday the 21st, they made Cape Clear, and the weather, which had, during the earlier part of the voyage, been moderate and favorable, now became thick and foggy, the wind blowing fresh, with heavy squalls from the southward. The ship had been carrying all her canvass, but as the gale increased they were obliged to shorten sail. At four o'clock, they were under double-reefed topsails, foresail, and mainsail, when a sudden squall carried away the fore-yard and split the fore-topsail. They therefore got the broken yard down, and prepared to replace it by another. As night came on, the decks were cleared for working the ship; the wind, however, lulled, and it was supposed that the storm of the day was over. As they were near the coast, all hands flattered themselves they should, in a short time, reach their destined harbor, and be once more secure from the dangers of the deep. About nine o'clock, the ship was struck by a tremendous sea, which threw her on her beam-ends, and carried away the mainmast by the board, the heads of the mizenmast and fore-topmast, sweeping the deck clear of everything, including boats, caboose-house, and bulwarks, and staving in all the hatches, and state-rooms, and nearly filling the cabin with water. It also carried away six of the crew and one of the cabin passengers, and, in short, so destructive was its influence, that it left the Albion in the state of a wreck. As the ship now became unmanageable, and the sea continued to make a complete breach over her, both crew and passengers were obliged to lash themselves to the pumps, in order to keep themselves from being washed away while working them. All who were unnecessary or unable to afford assistance on deck retired below, but the water was knee-deep in the cabin, and the furniture floating about rendered their situation dangerous and dreadful. On deck they were in total darkness, and having no correct compasses, they could not tell how the ship's head lay. About one o'clock in the morning of the 22d, they made the light of the Old Head of Kinsale, a light-house on the Irish coast, but could not ascertain its bearing, and at two o'clock they found the ship embayed. All night long the wind had blown directly on shore, towards which the vessel was drifting at the rate of about three miles an hour. The complete hopelessness of their situation was known to few on board; but to Captain Williams the coast was familiar, and he must have seen, in despair and horror, throughout the night, the certainty of their fate. At length the noise of the ocean roaring and dashing upon the rocky and precipitous shore, spoke too plainly of the fate that awaited them. The captain, seeing that the crisis was now close at hand, and that the wreck of the vessel was inevitable, summoned all the passengers on deck, and briefly told them that each must prepare to save himself, as the ship must soon strike--it was impossible to preserve her. The scene was one of the most touching description; many of them had received considerable injury when the sea first struck the ship, and were scarcely able to come on deck; others were completely exhausted from having been incessantly assisting at the pumps; and one gentleman, who had been extremely ill during the voyage, Mr. William Everhart, of Chester, Pennsylvania, was too feeble to crawl to the deck without assistance, though, strange to say, he was the only cabin passenger who was saved. The situation of the passengers on board the Albion was, at this moment, one of peculiar agony, as they watched, without the power of resistance, the deadly and relentless blast impelling them to destruction--the ship a wreck--and the raging of the billows against the precipice on which they were driving, sending back from the rocky caverns the hoarse and melancholy warnings of death. In such a situation, the stoutest heart must have quailed with utter despair. As the morning dawned, the Albion struck on a reef, her upper-works beat in over the rocks, and in about half an hour she parted midships, her quarter-deck drifting on the top of the inside ledge, immediately under the cliffs. The perpendicular precipice of rocks, under which the unfortunate vessel struck, is nearly two hundred feet in height, in the base of which, the sea beating for ages, has worn large caverns, into which the waves rush violently, sending back a deep and hollow sound; after striking against the rock, they are thrown back in various directions, forming whirlpools of great violence. For some distance from the precipice, rocks rise out of the water, broad at bottom, and sharp at top: on one of these the Albion first struck; the next wave threw her farther on the rock, the third farther still, until, nearly balanced, she swung round, and her stern was driven against another, closer in shore. In this perilous situation, every wave making a complete breach over her, many of the passengers and crew were drowned on deck. Captain Williams, worn out with the extraordinary exertions which, up to the last moment, he continued to make for the preservation of the lives of the unfortunate passengers and crew, was, with several others, swept away soon after the vessel struck. A short time before she parted, the mate and six of the crew managed to gain a rock, but so exhausted were they by their previous exertions, and by the dashing of the waves, which every instant washed over them, that the mate was washed off; fortunately, however, he regained his position before the return of the sea. So exhausted was he, that before he could attempt to climb the rock, which was nearly perpendicular, he was obliged to lie down to recover strength from the severe bruises and contusions which he had received. One of the passengers also reached the rock alive, but, together with one of the stewards, he was washed off and drowned. Perceiving that the stern was higher out of water than the fore part of the wreck, and the sea had less power in its sweep over it, Mr. Everhart went aft. He now saw that the bottom had been broken out of the ship. The heavy articles must have sunk, and the cotton and lighter articles were floating around, dashed by every wave against the rocks. Presently the ship broke in two, and all who remained near the bow were lost. Several had got on the side of the precipice from the stern of the ship, and were hanging by the crags. Although weakened by previous sickness and present suffering, Mr. Everhart made an effort and got upon the rock, and stood upon one foot, which was the only hold he could obtain. He saw several of his fellow-sufferers around him, and, among the rest, Colonel Prevost, who, on seeing him take his station, remarked, "Here is another poor fellow," But the waves rolling heavily against them, and often dashing the spray fifty feet above their heads, gradually swept them away, one after another. One of the sailors, losing his hold, attempted to grasp Mr. Everhart's leg, and nearly pulled him from his place. Weak and ill as he was, however, he contrived to retain his position, and stood for several hours on one foot on a little crag, the billows dashing over him, and quite benumbed with cold. By day-light, the wreck having been discovered, as soon as the ebbing of the tide rendered it practicable, the country people descended the rocks as far as they could, and dropped Mr. Everhart a rope, which he fastened round his body, and was drawn up to a place of safety. Of twenty-three cabin passengers he alone escaped. Many of the passengers who were lost in this melancholy shipwreck, held distinguished stations in society. The most eminent sufferer was Gen. Lefebvre Desnouettes, who, during a long series of years, had braved death in the field of battle, and escaped to perish at last in this catastrophe, when his mind was, perhaps, less than at any other period of his life, reconciled to the stroke of fate. His situation was every way peculiar. It is well known that he had been one of the favorite and most distinguished of Napoleon's military generals, and that he took part in the combination against Louis XVIII. On the landing of his old commander from Elba, with headlong enthusiasm he joined him in his last campaign, and being proscribed by the royal government, took refuge in the United States. Here his misfortunes, reputation, intelligence, and manly, unexceptionable deportment, rendered him an object of universal esteem. To escape, as he used to remark, pity and curiosity, and to gratify the natural activity of his mind, he retired to the territory granted to the French exiles in the State of Alabama, where he labored in the fields, under the burning sun, with a reckless exertion, which proved very injurious to his health. His wife, an amiable and accomplished woman, remained behind in France to look after his interests there. Having begun his agricultural toil, he never quitted it until his final departure from the country, except to visit Washington on business. At length, he addressed a petition to the French government, praying to be allowed to return home. He received directions to proceed to Holland, and there wait the final pleasure of the king; and, on his way to Liverpool, met with a watery grave on the Irish coast. It is a very affecting tale indeed, Uncle Thomas! How shocking to think that, after crossing the Atlantic ocean in safety, they should perish when almost within sight of home! CHAPTER XI. UNCLE THOMAS TELLS OF THE LOSS OF THE DODDINGTON EAST INDIAMAN. This evening, boys, I am going to tell you of the loss of the Doddington, which was wrecked on a barren, uninhabited rock, when nearly two hundred persons lost their lives. The Doddington sailed from the Downs, April 23d, 1755, in company with four others of the East India Company's ships. On the 20th of May, they made Bonavista, one of the Cape de Verd Islands, and on the 21st got into Port Prior Bay, for the purpose of taking in a supply of fresh water. On the 27th, she proceeded on her voyage, in company with three of the vessels with which she had at first set out, leaving the other, which had not yet completed her refitment, in the roads. They continued together until the following day, when the Captain, thinking that their course was too easterly, ordered the Doddington to be kept south; and after a fine run of seven weeks, she made the land of the Cape of Good Hope. On the 5th of July, they took their departure from Cape Needles, and the vessel having steered eastward about twenty-four hours, the Captain ordered her to be kept E. N. E. In this course she continued till about a quarter before one on the morning of Thursday the 17th of July, when she struck. The officer whose journal furnishes materials for the following narrative, was, at the time of the accident, asleep in his cabin; but being suddenly awakened by the shock, he started up in the utmost consternation, and hurried upon deck. He found the sea rolling over the ship with the utmost violence, and sweeping the men overboard, while the beating of the surge upon the vessel threatened, every instant, to dash her in pieces. On reaching the larboard side of the deck, which lay highest out of the water, he encountered the Captain, who told him in a very little time they must all perish; in a few minutes a sea parted them, and he saw him no more. He managed, by dint of great exertion, to get back to the quarter-deck, though he was much bruised and had the small bone of his left arm broken; the other portion of the ship was, in the meantime, overwhelmed by the waves and completely shattered in pieces. In this dreadful situation, when every minute he expected would be the last of all who still clung to the wreck, he heard the welcome cry of "Land!" and looked eagerly about him; but though he saw something which he supposed had been taken for land, he believed that it was only the bursting of the surge on the other side of the breakers. At this instant, the sea broke over him with such fury, that it not only forced him from his hold, but such was the violence of the blow, that he was stunned, and lay insensible till after daylight. On recovering, he found himself fixed to a plank by a nail that had been forced into his shoulder. Besides the pain of his wound, and the many bruises which he had sustained, he was so benumbed with cold that he could scarcely move. He now observed that several of the crew had got on the rocks which were near, and called out to them as loud as he could; but they were not able to give him any assistance, so that a considerable time elapsed before he was able to disengage himself from the wreck and get on shore. On reaching the rock, he found twenty-three of his companions, which were all that had been able to save themselves out of two hundred and twenty individuals that were on board when the ship struck. Their first care was to search among the things that had been thrown on the rocks from the wreck, for something to cover them from the weather, and in this they succeeded almost beyond their expectations; but the attainment of fire was not so easily accomplished. Some of them made an unsuccessful attempt to kindle two pieces of wood by rubbing them together, while others diligently searched the rocks in anxious endeavors to find a substitute for flint and steel. After some time they found a box containing a couple of gun-flints and a broken file, which was a most joyful acquisition, though they still wanted tinder. After a further search, they discovered a cask of gunpowder, which, to their great disappointment, proved to be wet; but, on a more narrow inspection, they found a small quantity at the bottom that had suffered no damage. Some of this bruised on a linen rag, served their purpose very well. Having at length succeeded in lighting a fire, the bruised and wounded collected round it, while the others went in search of further necessaries. A box of wax candles and a case of brandy were the first brought in, and soon afterwards another party returned, stating that they had discovered a cask almost full of fresh water, which was of greater consequence than the spirits, as there was no fresh water to be found on the island. They could also see at some distance several casks of water, flour, and beer; but it was not possible to get at them over the rocks. It now became necessary to provide some shelter for the approaching night; all hands were therefore employed in making a tent of some canvass that had been cast ashore; but the quantity was so small that the tent would not hold them all, and for fear of being overflowed, they were obliged to erect it on the highest part of the island. Here they were so much exposed to the storm that their frail encampment was in danger of being blown away; their fire was scattered, and before they could collect the embers the rain extinguished them. On renewing their search in the morning, they found, to their great mortification, that all the casks which they had seen the preceding night, with the exception of one of flour and another of beer, had been staved against the rocks. These, however, they secured; but the tide flowing up soon after, interrupted their proceedings. As, in their desolate and forlorn situation, their thoughts naturally hurried from one subject to another in quest of some source of comfort, it was suggested by one of them that, as the carpenter was among them, he might build a vessel to carry them to a port of safety, provided they could obtain some tools and materials. The attention of every one was immediately directed towards the carpenter, who declared his belief that if tools and materials could be found, he should be able to build a bark; and though at that time there was no prospect of procuring either, yet no sooner had they thought their deliverance but one remove beyond total impossibility, than they seemed to think it neither impossible nor difficult. The boat engrossed their whole conversation, and they not only debated on her size and rigging, but to what port they should steer when she was fairly afloat. Some of them immediately dispersed in search of materials for their projected vessel, but they did not succeed in finding any. On the following day, however, they secured four butts of water, one cask of flour, one hogshead of brandy, and a small boat, which had been thrown up by the tide in a shattered condition; but no tools were found, with the exception of a scraper. Next day they had the good fortune to discover a box containing files, gimlets, sail-needles, and an azimuth compass-card; they also found two quadrants, a carpenter's adze, a chisel, three sword-blades, and a chest of treasure. On Monday, the 20th of July, they recovered some more provisions, and also some timber-plank, canvass, and cordage, which they joyfully secured for their projected vessel, though still in want of many implements indispensable for the carpenter to proceed with his work. It happened, however, that one of the seamen, Hendrick Scanty, a native of Sweden, who had originally been a smith by profession, having picked up an old pair of bellows, told his companions that, by the aid of a forge, which they could build by his directions, he could furnish the carpenter with all necessary tools as well as nails, as plenty of iron could be obtained by burning it out of pieces of the wreck driven ashore. He began immediately to mend the bellows, and the three following days were occupied in building a tent and forge, and in collecting timber for the use of the carpenter, who was also employed in preparing the few tools already in his possession, that the boat might be begun as soon as possible. In a few days the carpenter began to work on the keel of the vessel, which, it was determined, should be a sloop, thirty feet in length by twelve in width. The smith also finished his forge, and he and the carpenter continued thenceforward to work with indefatigable diligence, except when prevented by the weather. The smith, having fortunately found the ring and nut of a bower-anchor, which served him for an anvil, supplied chisels, axes, hammers and nails, as they were required, and the carpenter used them with great dexterity and despatch. After having been nearly seven weeks upon the rock, during which time they had frequently seen a great smoke upon the main land, they determined to send the boat which had been recovered from the wreck, which the carpenter had so patched up as to fit it for sea, to ascertain what assistance could be obtained. For this purpose, three men set out on a voyage of discovery, the people making a great fire at night on the highest part of the rock, as a signal to them. After waiting three days, the return of the boat was impatiently expected; but nothing being seen of it by noon they became very uneasy. At length, however, they discovered it approaching, but it was rowed by only one man, who plied both oars, and they consequently concluded that the other two had been lost or detained. Presently, however, another was seen to rise from the bottom of the boat, and their speed was a little increased. Their interest and curiosity were wound up to the highest pitch, when the two men, jumping from the boat, threw themselves on the ground, and returned thanks to the Almighty for their deliverance. They were, however, so exhausted by the exertions which they had made, that they now sank on the ground and could not rise without assistance. When sufficiently recovered, they related their adventures since they left the island. On the day of their departure, after sailing about six leagues to the eastward, they got round a point of land, and ventured to pull for the shore; but the moment they got into the surf, the boat was upset, by which their companion was unfortunately drowned. They managed, however, to reach the land, though in a very exhausted condition. On recovering a little, they crawled along the shore in search of the boat, as they had no other shelter from wild beasts, which might be expected to come abroad in the night, and after some search found her; but they were too weak to get her up, and were obliged to lie down on the sand, with no other covering than the branches of a tree. In the morning they again searched for the boat, which the surf had driven from the place where they left her, and in walking along the coast saw a man, who, on their approach, ran away into the woods. Soon afterwards they discovered the body of their unfortunate companion, which had been dragged some distance from the shore, and mangled by some wild beast, which so terrified them, that rather than undergo the dread of passing another night on shore, they resolved to return immediately. Encountering a gale from the west, the boat was once more upset, but after much struggling and swimming, they got safe to land, exhausted by their exertions and faint with hunger. Having managed to get the boat on shore, they turned it keel upwards and crept under it to sleep. Wearied by their late exertions, they slept till the dawn of day, when, peeping out from under the edge of the boat, they saw the feet of several animals, which they supposed to be tigers, which induced them to remain under the boat till the day had well broke, when once more looking out they saw the feet of a man. On this discovery, they crept out, to the great amazement of a poor savage and two other men and a boy, who were at some distance. When they were a little recovered from their surprise, the savages made signs for them to go away, which they endeavored to do, though they began to move very slowly: but they had not got far when a considerable number of the natives ran down upon them with their lances, and took them prisoners. They then rifled the boat, and took away all the rope they could find, and began to knock the boat in pieces, for the iron which they saw about it. With the exception of absolute destruction to these hapless mariners, this was the greatest calamity they could sustain; and, rough as they were, they burst into tears, and entreated the savages to desist, with such agony and distress, that they suffered the boat to remain without further injury. On the following morning, taking an opportunity of eluding the vigilance of the savages, they launched the boat for the third time, and returned to their companions on the rock. This narrative was far from encouraging; nevertheless the carpenter continued his work with the greatest assiduity, and with such success, that, imperfect as were the tools with which he worked, on the 17th February 1756, they launched their little vessel, and bade adieu to the rock on which they had lived seven months. They weighed anchor at one in the afternoon, and set sail, with a light breeze from the west, for the river St. Lucia, on the coast of Natal; but misfortune still seemed to attend them. For twenty-five days they met with nothing but adversity; their provisions were almost exhausted, and the rapid currents carried them so far out of their course, that a favorable wind was of but little service to them. Despairing at last of being able to make the river St. Lucia, they resolved to change their course for the Cape of Good Hope, and accordingly, on the 2d of March, bore away for the west. The three following days the wind increased to such prodigious violence that it blew a furious storm, and their frail bark shipped such heavy seas, that they expected each wave, as it rolled over, to dash her in pieces. On the morning of the 5th, however, fine weather ensued, and on the 7th it was a perfect calm, when they cast anchor about three quarters of a mile from the shore, where they observed several natives coming down from the mountains towards them. Encouraged by this sight, they attempted to land, and Arnold, the black servant, was sent on shore, accompanied by two seamen, with a string of amber beads as a present to the Indians. After a mutual interchange of civilities, he obtained some Indian corn, fruit, and water, in a calabash, with a promise of sheep, oxen, and other necessaries; but the wind continuing westerly, the boat returned with a supply only sufficient for four days. They continued to coast along, occasionally landing to barter with the natives, who everywhere thronged to the shore and received them with kindness. At length, on the 6th April, they arrived at St. Lucia. Having landed, they signified to the natives their wish to trade with them; but the Indians intimated that they wanted nothing but small beads: however, on being shown some copper buttons, they brought bullocks, fowls, potatoes, gourds, and other provisions. No bullocks could be purchased; for the natives wanted copper rings large enough for collars, in exchange. Of the fowls, they gave five or six for a small piece of linen, and the other things in proportion. They remained here three weeks, being engaged in traversing the country, and endeavoring to obtain such articles as they wanted. The Indians set a great value on copper, and on being shown the handle of an old box, offered two bullocks for it, which were immediately accepted and driven on board the vessel. On the 18th of May, a favorable breeze springing up from the west, attended with good weather, they weighed anchor at seven in the morning and set sail. Two days afterwards they arrived in Lagoa Bay, where they found the Rose, a trading vessel, in which some of them requested a passage to Bombay. On the 25th of May, the Rose sailed for Madagascar, where, happening to fall in with one of the East India Company's ships, bound for Madras, the packets of treasure were transferred to it, and in about a month arrived in safety at their destination. I must now bid you good bye, boys--not that I have exhausted my "Tales of Shipwrecks," but my space being filled up, I must stop for the present. I hope we shall soon meet again. Our present meetings have not, I trust, been without profit as well as amusement. The various narratives of suffering have awakened our sympathies, and taught us to feel how much we owe to the intrepidity of the adventurous seamen, who, bidding defiance to the perils of the deep, bear the blessings of commerce and civilization to the farthest corners of the earth. Nor ought our conversations to have been void of instruction--opening up to us, as they have done, the mighty works of God and his mysterious dealings with mankind. "They that go down to the sea in ships," says the Psalmist, "that do business in great waters--these see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep. For he commandeth and raiseth the stormy wind, which lifteth up the waves thereof. They mount up to the heavens, they go down again to the depths: their soul is melted because of trouble. They reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken man, and are at their wit's end. Then they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, and he bringeth them out of their distresses. He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still. Then are they glad because they be quiet; so he bringeth them unto their desired haven. O, that men would praise the Lord for his goodness, and for his wonderful works to the children of men!" Good bye, Uncle Thomas! 
23071	----	The Rival Crusoes, by W.H.G. Kingston ________________________________________________________________________ Our hero is the sixteen-year-old Dick Hargrave, son of a farmer near Keyhaven on the Hampshire coast. A good deal of smuggling went on in that area, but the Hargraves, although turning a blind eye if their barns were used by the smugglers for temporary storage, were not involved. The local landlord had been a politician who had been ennobled and who was now a marquis. One of his sons, Lord Reginald (for Lord is the courtesy-title of younger sons of a marquis) was in the Navy. Dick is press-ganged into the navy, and finds himself in the same ship as Lord Reginald, who does all he can to make Dick's life a misery. On one occasion Dick jumps ship and goes back home to visit his family, but is recognised by Lord Reginald. Before he can be punished there is an engagement with the French in which Dick distinguishes himself, and the Captain agrees to dispense with the flogging he should have received. The ship is posted to the Far East station but is shipwrecked. Both Dick and Lord Reginald survive the wreck and become "Crusoes", still with a deadly rivalry. But Lord Reginald is an incompetent, and would not have survived, had not Dick rescued him, and brought him back to health. Lord Reginald apologises for his past behaviour. Eventually they get back to England, and the story ends there. In a preface Kingston explains that he has taken a much earlier novel written by a young lady, and has rewritten it with as much improvement as he can make. ________________________________________________________________________ THE RIVAL CRUSOES, BY W.H.G. KINGSTON. PREFACE. The title of the following tale was given to a short story written by the well-known authoress, Agnes Strickland, more than half a century ago, when she was about eighteen years old. I well remember the intense delight with which I read it in my boyhood, and was lately surprised to find that it had been so long out of print. The publishers, however, consider that the work, esteemed as it was in former years, is, from the style and the very natural mistakes of a young lady discernible with regard to matters nautical, scarcely suited to the taste of the present day. They therefore requested me to re-write it, believing that the subject might be worked into a deeply interesting story of much larger proportions than the original. This I have endeavoured to accomplish, and I trust that the new version of "The Rival Crusoes" may become as popular among the present generation as its predecessor was with the last. W.H.G. Kingston. CHAPTER ONE. AT KEYHAVEN--IN DANGEROUS COMPANY--THE OLD SMUGGLER--A FRIGATE AFTER BATTLE--DISLIKE OF BEN FOR THE ROYAL NAVY--AN UNEXPECTED LANDING-- OVERBEARING CONDUCT OF THE MIDSHIPMEN--ANGRY WORDS--LORD REGINALD OSWALD--TOADY VOULES--AT THE VILLAGE INN--OLD MESSMATES--TEMPTATION-- SUSAN RUDALL'S ANXIOUS LIFE--AN ADVENTURE ON THE WAY TO ELVERSTON--HOME AT LAST--RECEPTION AT THE HALL. "I tell you what, Dick, if I was Farmer Hargrave I would not turn out to please Lord Elverston or any other lord in the land," exclaimed Ben Rudall, as he stood hammering away at the side of his boat, which lay drawn up on the inner end of Hurst beach, near the little harbour of Keyhaven, on the Hampshire coast, at the western entrance of the Solent, opposite the Isle of Wight. His dress and weather-beaten countenance, as well as the work he was engaged on, showed that he was a seafaring man. "But Mr Gooch the bailiff says there is a flaw, as he calls it, in the lease; but what that means I don't know, except that it's not all right, and that father must turn out, whether he likes it or not," answered Dick Hargrave, who was standing near, and occasionally giving Ben a helping hand. He was a lad about sixteen years of age, strongly built, with a good-looking face, exhibiting a firm and determined expression. His dress was more that of a landsman than of a sailor, though it partook of both. "Flaw or no flaw, I say again, I would hold on fast to the farm, unless I was turned out by force. Your father, Dick, is worth ten of such lords, or a hundred, for that matter. He has held that farm since his father's time. His father and grandfather and great-grandfather, and I don't know how many before them, have held it. And right honest people they were. They never thought of interfering with us seafaring men, and would as soon turn spies to the French as give notice to the revenue when a cargo was to be run. If they guessed that any kegs of spirits, or packages of silks or ribbons, were stowed away in one of their barns, they took good care not to be prying about too closely until they knew that the goods had been started off for London." "My father always wished to live at peace with his neighbours, and would not injure a smuggler more than any other man who did not interfere with him, though I believe he has never received a keg of brandy or a piece of silk for any service he may have done the smugglers," said Dick. "You're right there, my lad," said Ben. "I mind once offering your good mother a few yards of stuff to make her a Sunday gown, and, would you believe it? she would not take them. When I just hinted that I should leave them behind me, she was quite offended, and declared that if I did she would speak to your father and have the outhouses kept closed, and that it would be our own fault if some day all our goods were seized. She shut me up, I can tell you. Yes, she is a good woman, and as kind and charitable to the poor as any lady in the land. To my fancy she is a lady just as much as Lord Elverston's wife. I mind when he was only Squire Oswald. Because he kept hounds and was in Parliament, and came into a heap of money, he got made a lord, and then a marquis, and now he is setting his face against all us seafaring men hereabouts, and vows that he must uphold the revenue laws, and put a stop to smuggling." "I have no cause to care for the Marquis of Elverston or his sons either, for often when I have passed them and touched my hat, as in decent manners I was bound to do, they have looked at me as if I was a beggar-boy asking for a ha'penny. The young one especially--Lord Reginald--I had words with him one day, when he swore at me for not picking up his whip which he had let drop out riding; and at another time, when I was fishing in the lake at Elverston, he ordered me to be off, because I was catching more than he was--though father has always had the right of fishing there. He came up, with his fists doubled; but I threatened to knock him into the water if he laid hands on me, and he thought better of it. I was right glad when he went off to sea, where I hope he will have learned better manners." "He will have learned to become a greater bully than ever," growled Ben. "I have heard enough about king's ships, and catch me setting foot on board one. I'd sooner be sent to Botany Bay, or spend a year in prison, which I did once, when I was taken running a cargo down Portland way with a dozen other fine fellows. Many of them accepted the offer to go on board a man-of-war; and where are they now? Three or four shot or drowned; the rest have never come back, though whether dead or alive I cannot tell. No, no, Dick; don't you ever go on board a man-of-war of your own free will, or you'll repent it; and, I say, keep clear of pressgangs when you get a little older, or you may be having to go, whether you like it or no." "I'll take your advice," answered the young farmer, for such Dick might properly have been called, though he had besides, being an ingenious fellow, picked up a good knowledge of carpentering and boat-building; "but what I was going to say just now was that, although the marquis and his sons may not be liked, no one can utter a word against my lady and her daughters. They always smile and nod kindly like when one passes. When my sister Janet was ill last year, they came to the farm, and asked after her just as if she had been one of themselves, talking so sweet and gentle. If it wasn't for them, I don't think father would dream of giving in, as he does now." "Give in? He mustn't do that!" exclaimed Ben. "Their talking and smiling may be all very fine, but I know what that's worth." "You are wrong there, Ben; I couldn't speak a word against them. But, I say, do you think we can finish the boat in time to get off and catch some fish this evening? I want to take home a couple of bass or whiting pout for Janet. She likes them better than anything else. Poor girl! it's only fish and such light things she can eat. She's very ill, I fear, though she talks as if she was going to be about soon; but the doctor tells mother he has no hope of her ever being well again." "That will be a sore pity, for, blind though she is, there's not a prettier maiden to be found throughout the forest," answered Ben. "I'll do my best to serve you, Dick; but there's two hours' more work to be done before we can get the craft afloat." Ben surveyed the boat from stem to stern as he spoke, and then continued boring holes and driving nails as diligently as before. While he was thus employed, Dick, who was looking towards the Isle of Wight, exclaimed, "See, Ben, see, what a fine ship yonder is, just come in at the Needles!" The fisherman, clenching the nail he had just driven in, turned his eyes in the direction to which Dick pointed. "She's only a frigate, though a good big one," he remarked. "She's not long since been in action, too, with the enemy. Look at her topsails and top-gallant sails; they are pretty well riddled. I can count wellnigh a score of shot-holes in them; and her side, too, shows the hard knocks she has been getting. Just run to the top of the beach, and see if any other ships are following. Maybe the fleet has had a brush with the enemy, and yonder frigate has been sent on ahead with news of the action." Dick, doing as he was bid, soon reached a point of the shingly bank whence he could obtain a view of the sea to the westward. "Hurrah!" he shouted; "here comes another ship under a fore-jurymast and her bowsprit gone. She seems to me to have not a few shot-holes in her canvas, though it's hard to make out at the distance she is off." Ben, in his eagerness, forgetting his work, ran up to where Dick was standing. "Yes, there's no doubt about it, yonder craft is a prize to the first. When she gets nearer we shall see that her sails are well riddled and her hull battered, too. Those Frenchmen don't give in till they've been thoroughly drubbed; but I doubt whether we shall know more about the matter to-night than we do now, for the wind is falling, and the tide making out strong against her. See, the frigate can only just stem it, and unless the breeze freshens, she must bring up or drift out through the Needles again." Such, indeed, was likely to be the case, for though still going ahead, her progress was very slow. She had already got some little distance to the eastward of Hurst Point, when, the wind freshening again, her sails blew out, and, gliding majestically on, she edged over to the Isle of Wight shore. "She'll not get to Spithead to-night, notwithstanding," remarked Ben, "for there's not a breath of air away to the eastward; see, the sails of that brig out there are hanging flat against the masts." Ben was right. The wind again dropping, presently the hands were seen flying aloft, the studding-sails were quickly taken in, the courses brailed up; the topsail yards being rapidly lowered, the ready crew sprang on to them, and in another minute the frigate dropped her anchor in Yarmouth Roads. "All very fine!" growled Ben, as he saw Dick's look of admiration at the smartness with which the manoeuvre had been effected; "but if you'd been on board you would have seen how it was all done. There's the first lieutenant, with his black list in his hand, and the other lieutenants with their reports, ready to note down anything they may think amiss; then there are the midshipmen, the boatswain and his mates, cursing and swearing, with their switches and rope's ends in their hands, and the cat-o'-nine-tails hung up ready for any who don't move fast enough. Again, I say, don't you ever enter on board a man-of-war if you wish to keep a whole skin in your body." The old smuggler's picture, though exaggerated, approached too nearly the truth as to the way in which discipline was enforced on board many men-of-war in those days. Happily, some were as free from the reproach as are those of the present time, when the seamen of the navy have good reason to be contented with their lot, as everything is done which can conduce to their comfort and improvement. Ben's remarks did not fail to have their effect on Dick's mind. "Don't think I'm a fool!" he answered. "I'll keep out of their clutches, depend upon that, for, as I am not a seaman, a pressgang can't catch hold of me." "Well, do you be wise, my boy, and don't forget what I say," remarked Ben. "But if we stand talking here we shan't get the boat finished, so come along, and don't let us trouble ourselves about the frigate. We shall hear by-and-by what she has been doing, and how the captain and officers are praised for the victory the seamen have won for them." Saying this, Ben led the way back to his boat, and went on with his work, though Dick Hargrave could not help every now and then casting a look at the beautiful ship as she lay at anchor a little distance off. Ben was labouring away as assiduously as before, when Dick exclaimed-- "Here comes a boat from the frigate. I thought I saw one lowered; she is steering for this point, and it will not be long before she is here." "Then they intend to put some one on shore at Keyhaven," observed Ben; "but as the boat can't get up the creek with this low tide, whoever he may be he'll have to trudge along the beach." "There seem to be several officers in her," remarked Dick, who stood watching the boat as she came rapidly on the blades of the oars, as with measured strokes they were dipped in the water, flashing in the sunlight. "They fancy that they can get up to Keyhaven, but they'll not do that until the tide rises," observed Ben, looking up from his work with a frown on his brow. "Let them try it, and they'll stick fast." The boat passed the spot where Ben and his companion were at work, and very soon what he had predicted happened. Two of the officers, whom Dick recognised by their uniforms to be midshipmen, were heard abusing the men and ordering them to urge the boat on. But all the efforts of the crew to get her afloat were vain. They then endeavoured to back her off, and at length four of them, tucking up their trowsers, leaped overboard. The boat thus lightened, the men, by shoving her astern, soon got her again into deep water. When, however, they sprang on board their blackened legs showed the nature of the mud into which they had stepped, and produced a malicious chuckle from Ben, who watched them with half-averted head. By moving their legs about in the water they soon got rid of the black stains, when, having resumed their places, they pulled the boat in close to where Ben and Dick were standing. As she reached the beach the two midshipmen leaped on shore. "I say, you fellows," shouted one of them, "come along here and carry our portmanteaus to the inn, if there is one in that village there, and tell us if we can find a post-chaise or conveyance of some sort to take us to Elverston Hall." "Don't you answer," said Ben to Dick, hammering on and pretending not to notice what was said. "Ahoy, there! don't you hear us? Knock off that work!" cried the younger of the two midshipmen, and he repeated what he had just said. "Yes, we hear," growled Ben looking up; "but we are not slaves to come and go at your beck, youngster." "We don't want you to carry our traps for nothing, my man," said the elder midshipman. "We'll give a shilling to each of you for the job, and that's handsome pay." "To those who want it, it may be," said Ben; "but that youngster there must learn to keep a civil tongue in his head if he expects any one to help him. Hurst beach ain't the deck of a man-of-war, and one chap here is as good as another, so you may just let your own people carry up your traps." The crew of the boat sat grinning as they heard the smuggler bandying words with their officers, siding probably with the former. "Do you know to whom you are speaking, my man?" exclaimed the elder midshipman. "This is Lord Reginald Oswald, and his father is the Marquis of Elverston. His lordship will be exceedingly angry when he hears the way you have treated his son." Ben, turning away his head, muttered loud enough for his companion to hear him, "He might be the marquis himself for what I care; but I'm not his lordship's slave to come and go at his beck any more than I am yours." Dick looked hard at the young lord, and the recollection of their former intercourse would have made him unwilling to do as he was asked, even had the request been couched in less dictatorial language. "Come, come, we will pay you a couple of shillings each, if you are extortionate enough to refuse our first offer; but carry up our traps you must, for the boat has to return immediately to the frigate, and we cannot delay her." "Extortionate or not extortionate, we are not slaves, as some poor fellows are," said Ben, glancing at the boat's crew; "if we don't do what you want for love, we are not going to do it for money, so you may just carry your portmanteaus yourselves." "Impertinent scoundrels!" exclaimed Lord Reginald to his companion. "Just see, Voules, if that young fellow is more amenable to reason than that sulky old boatman." "I'll try him," answered Voules. "Come here, you young chap. If you will carry Lord Reginald's portmanteau I will shoulder mine; we must not delay the boat any longer." "Don't seem as if you heard him," said Ben to Dick in a low voice, then looking round he shouted, "Maybe the `young chap' is deaf, and if he wasn't, he's not a mule or donkey to carry a load on his back. Let Lord Reginald carry his own portmanteau, and just do you understand that I'm not the man to stand any nonsense from him or from any other lord in the land." "There is no use in bandying words with these scoundrels!" exclaimed Voules. "I'll carry your portmanteau, Oswald, and let my own take its chance. I don't suppose these fellows will dare to steal it, until we can send somebody to bring it on." "No, no," answered Lord Reginald; "we must get Jennings to allow two of the men to come with us, and he can explain to the captain the cause of the delay." Jennings, the master's assistant in charge of the boat, naturally indignant at the way his messmates were treated, consented to this, although he was infringing orders by so doing. He accordingly directed two of the crew to take up the portmanteaus and accompany the midshipmen, who set off at once along the shingly beach. As they moved on, a peal of laughter, in which Ben indulged himself, saluted their ears, which contributed not a little to increase Lord Reginald's anger and indignation. "I have a notion that I remember the countenance of the youngest of those two rascals!" he exclaimed. "He is the son of one of our tenants, and used often, when a mere boy, to be impudent to me. I felt inclined more than once to thrash him, but he happened to be the stronger of the two, so I didn't try, but I'll pay him off one of these days. I'll tell my father how we were treated, and he'll show him that I am not to be insulted with impunity." "Certainly not, Oswald. I'll bear witness to the impertinent way in which he behaved. I only wish that a pressgang may be sent on shore here some night; I'll take good care that they do not overlook either the young fellow or that surly old one. They are not very particular in the service just now as to age, and both may be taken." "Pray don't let me hear anything more about the matter, or when I reach home I shall not be in a condition to receive the congratulations of my family," said Lord Reginald. "I wish that the tide had been in and we had been able to get up to the village instead of having to trudge over these abominable shingles." "Certainly," said Voules; "but the fellows are beneath your notice, though the incident was sufficient to put one out of temper. If I had thought Jennings would have consented, I would have proposed landing the boat's crew and ducking the fellows; it would have brought them to reason pretty quickly." "You don't know the character of the men hereabout, or you would not say so," observed Lord Reginald. "That fellow Hargrave is a desperate young villain, and they are all smugglers and poachers, who would not scruple to burn down the hall if they had an opportunity. My father is determined to put a stop to their poaching and smuggling, but he has not as yet had much success, I believe. The smugglers, somehow or other, manage to land their cargoes when the revenue officers are out of the way, and the poachers dodge our gamekeepers, who vow that although they hear their shots, they can never catch them." "It will be good fun some night to try what we can do," observed Voules. "We should soon get hold of them, and if they are sent to prison or shipped off to Botany Bay, it will keep the others in awe." The two seamen who carried the portmanteaus were listening to the remarks of the young officers spoken in loud tones. Every now and then they turned to each other, exchanging winks, and smiling contemptuously, though they looked as grave as judges when Voules happened to turn round for a moment to ascertain how far they had got from the boat. On and on they trudged, until at last harder ground was gained, and they soon reached the village inn, or rather beer-shop, for it aspired to no higher dignity. Great was their disgust to find that no conveyance of any sort was to be obtained nearer than Lymington, some three or four miles off, and it was doubtful whether the single post-chaise or yellow fly, which belonged to the place, would be disengaged. "But Lord Reginald Oswald cannot walk all the way to Elverston Hall, and we must have a carriage of some sort or other, my good woman," exclaimed Voules to the landlady. "Then I must send out and find my man, who has been carting coals for old Captain Knockills on the top of the hill there. Our cart ain't exactly fit for young gentlemen like you, but it's better than nothing, as it will carry your `portmantles,' and you can get in and ride when you are tired; so, if you will walk in and sit down in the bar, I'll send the boy off at once. It won't be long before my man is here, as he must have finished his work by this time." "Impossible!" exclaimed Voules. "Lord Reginald Oswald to be driven home in a coal-cart!" The idea, however, seemed to tickle the fancy of the young lord, for he burst into a fit of laughter. "It will be better to reach the hall even in that way, than to wait in this wretched hole until we can obtain a carriage. Only, I say Voules, get them to put some clean hay or straw into the cart, or we and our portmanteaus will be covered with coal-dust." In the mean time the two seamen looked with wistful eyes at the cask of beer in the corner of the tap-room, but Voules, without offering them any, ordered them to hasten back to the boat. They grumbled as they went, looking back to ascertain if the midshipmen had left the inn, resolving to return, should they have the chance, to drink as many glasses of ale as they had money in their pockets to pay for. Voules, however, must have suspected their intentions, for he kept an eye on them as long as they were in sight. Just before reaching the frigate's boat, they met Ben and Dick, who had been on the watch for their return. Ben put out his hand and shook that of one of them. "Well, Bill Webster, I knew you as soon as you stepped on shore. Glad to see you with a whole skin on your back," he exclaimed. "How do you like serving his Majesty afloat? A pleasant sort of a life, isn't it?" Bill shrugged his shoulders as he answered, "Well, it's better than rotting in prison, though I'd rather be at the old work again." "Then why not give them leg-bail at once; you've a chance you'll not find again in a hurry, and we can stow you safe away, where they'll have a hard job to find you." "No, no, mate," said Bill's companion, Jack Coyne. "I know what running away means. It's being caught, with a sharp taste of the cat on one's back at the end of it." "Then, mates, you'd rather be slaves than free men?" said the old smuggler. Jack Coyne, however, was firm; and notwithstanding the arguments Ben used, he finally persuaded his shipmate to return to the boat which, immediately they stepped into her, shoved off and pulled for the frigate. "Each man to his taste, and some day they'll be sorry they didn't take my advice," muttered Ben. "Now, Dick, let's you and I get the boat into the water, and try to catch some fish for your sister Janet." As the boat was placed on a steep beach, she was easily launched, and Ben and Dick, each taking an oar, pulled away some distance from the shore, when they let down a big stone which served as an anchor. They had not to wait long before Ben hauled up a fish, and Dick soon afterwards got a bite. In a short time they had caught several bass, a whiting pout, and two grey mullet, with which, well satisfied, as the shades of evening were already creeping over the water, they pulled for the shore. As the tide had now turned, they were able to get up the creek to the spot where Ben generally left his boat moored. "I'm well pleased that I am to send these to your young sister," said Ben, handing over the mullet and two of the other fish to Dick. "Your mother won't mind receiving them, though they haven't paid duty, seeing as how they are not taxed, though when they will be is more than I can say. Always glad to see you down here, my lad; some day you'll take a trip across the water, aboard the _Nancy_. You'll like the life, I know, especially if we are chased by one of those revenue craft. It is a pleasure, I can tell you, to give them the go-by, though, to be sure, we do sometimes have to heave our kegs and bales overboard, but we generally keep too bright a look-out to have to do that." "I should like it well enough, Ben; but there are others at home who would object to my going away on board the lugger. However, I won't say no, so good night, Ben, and thank you for the fish;" and Dick Hargrave set off at a brisk pace towards his home, while his evil adviser--for such Ben Rudall undoubtedly was--entered his cottage, where his wife was busy preparing supper for him and their children. An anxious woman was Susan Rudall. Sometimes there was an over-abundance on the board, and she had more money than she well knew how to spend. At others it was a hard matter to find a few shillings to pay the week's bills for bread and other necessaries, though, to be sure, she could generally obtain credit, as it was hoped that, on the return of the _Nancy_, Ben would again be flush of money. Sometimes, however, she, as well as the tradespeople, were disappointed. Then often and often, while south-westerly gales were blowing, she had the anxious thought that the _Nancy_ was at sea and might perchance founder, as other similar craft had done, or be cast on the rocky coast, or be taken by a revenue vessel, when Ben and his companions, if caught with a cargo on board, would be thrown into prison, or sent to serve his Majesty on board a man-of-war for three or four years or more. Poor Susan's lot was that of many other smugglers' wives, who, notwithstanding the silks and laces with which they could bedeck themselves, and the abundance of spirits and tobacco in which their husbands might indulge, had often a troubled time of it. Not that she, or any other of the wives and daughters of those engaged in the lawless trade, thought that there was any harm in it. Probably their fathers and grandfathers before them, and most of their male relatives, except those sent off to sea, followed the same calling, and when any were caught or killed, they looked on their fate as a misfortune which had to be borne, without considering that it was justly brought upon themselves. Meantime, the two midshipmen, after waiting till their patience was almost exhausted, having seen their portmanteaus put into Silas Fryer's cart, set off on foot for Elverston Hall. "I really regret, my dear Oswald, that you should be exposed to this inconvenience. For myself, I confess I do not care; the pleasure of accompanying you and the honour of being received by your family, will make ample amends to me for a far greater annoyance. As a miserable younger son, with little more than my pay to depend upon, I have often had to tramp it. But you, I fear, will be greatly fatigued." "Not a bit of it," answered Reginald. "I can walk as well as any man, and could get over the distance if it were twice as great. I was only vexed at the impertinence of those fellows." "Of course, of course," said Voules, soothingly; "but leave them to me, and if I have an opportunity while remaining here, I'll endeavour to pay them off." Mr Alfred Voules, though an especial friend of Lord Reginald Oswald, was not a favourite on board his ship, where he was known by the name of "Toady Voules," an appellation he richly merited by the mode in which he paid court to any shipmates possessed of titles or amply stored purses. He had lately won his way into the good graces of Lord Reginald, who had obtained leave to take him on a visit to Elverston Hall, while the frigate was refitting at Portsmouth. When she brought up in Yarmouth Roads, Lord Reginald explained that his home was a short distance off on the opposite coast, and that it would save him and his friend a long journey if they were to land at Keyhaven, as they could easily reach it from thence. Much to their satisfaction, their captain allowed them-- certainly an unusual favour--to be put on shore as they desired. Voules himself stood well in the opinion of the captain and lieutenants, as, although he might not have exhibited any especial gallantry, he always appeared attentive to his duty. As the two midshipmen stepped out briskly, they soon distanced the cart, though darkness overtook them when they were still three or four miles from the hall. Lord Reginald, however, knew the road, and there was light enough from the stars to enable them to see it without difficulty. Elverston was situated some distance from the coast, within the borders of the New Forest. They were laughing and talking merrily together as they made their way along an uncultivated tract, covered with heather and occasional clumps of trees, here and there paths crossing the main road, when Voules exclaimed-- "What are those objects moving beyond the trees there? They seem to me to be like men on horseback; and, surely, that is the sound of cart wheels." As they stopped talking, a low murmur, as of human voices in subdued tones, reached their ears, and continuing on, they made out distinctly a train of carts, accompanied by horsemen riding in front and rear. "What they are is pretty clear," said Lord Reginald. "Those are smugglers. I have heard they muster at times in great force to convey their contraband goods up to London." "I wish that we had some of the frigate's crew with us," said Voules; "we'd soon put a stop to their journey." "Will you, young masters?" said a voice. "You'll just come along with us, and spend the night in different company to what you expect!" Before the midshipmen could turn round, they found their arms seized by half a dozen stout fellows, who had apparently been detached from the main body, and had come up thus suddenly upon them. "Unhand us!" exclaimed Lord Reginald, indignantly. "What right have you to stop us in this way?" "The right of might, young master," answered the man who had before spoken. "Tell us what brings you here at this time of night!" Voules, seeing that it would be to their advantage to speak the truth, answered, "My good friends, we have only just landed from our ship, and being unable to obtain a carriage, are walking on to Elverston Hall. We have not the slightest wish to interfere with you or any one else we may meet on the road; and it would be a serious inconvenience to us to be detained." "You speak fairly, my young master," said the man; "and if you and this youngster here will give us your word of honour that you will not mention having met us, we will let you go on in a few minutes; but do not interfere in a matter which does not concern you." "Oh! certainly, my friend, certainly," answered Voules. "We will hold our tongues, depend upon that, and we shall be much obliged to you if you will let us go at once, for we are desperately hungry, and want our suppers." "That may be," said the smuggler, laughing; "but you have not given us your word yet that you will hold your tongue, and we want to know what this other lad has to say for himself." "Oh, I'll give you my word to say nothing about you, if on that condition you will let us proceed on our way," said Lord Reginald; "although I cannot make out what reason you have for asking us." "Our reasons do not concern you, so give us your answer without further delay." "I promise, then, on the word of an officer and a gentleman, not to mention having met you," said Voules. Lord Reginald repeated the same words. "Well, then, you may go about your business," said the smuggler; "only don't in future talk of putting a stop to smuggling; it's what neither you nor your elders can do. Now, good night, lads. Remember, if you break your words it will be the worse for you." Saying this, the smuggler and his men rejoined their companions, who had already crossed the road, and the two midshipmen, glad to escape so easily, proceeded on their way. "I thought we were in for it!" observed Voules; "it would have been very unpleasant if they had carried us off, or knocked us on the head!" "Yes, indeed," answered Lord Reginald; "they are bold fellows to travel through the country so openly, even at night; but, as my father says, `Bold as they may be, they must be put down.'" "Well, we must try to forget the circumstance at present, or we shall be letting something slip out," remarked Voules. "Are we approaching the hall yet?" "We cannot be far off, though I should be better able to answer the question in daylight. I am only certain that we are on the right road, and have not reached the lodge gates; we shall see a light shining in the window when we get near." Nearly another half-hour passed before the light Lord Reginald spoke of appeared. The park-keeper and his wife, who had their minds filled with the dread of an invasion from the French, or an attack from the smugglers, were at first very unwilling to open the gates. Not until Lord Reginald had explained who he was, and had mentioned several circumstances to prove that he spoke the truth, would they admit him and his companion. "Beg pardon, my lord; but we hope you won't take it amiss," exclaimed the gate-keeper. "We meant no offence, that we didn't, my lord," chimed in his wife. "But you see, your lordship, that there are all sorts of bad characters about--smugglers and highwaymen and gipsies, and we couldn't tell if it was some of them come to murder us and burn the hall down, as they swear they will; or if it was the French, for it's said that they will land one of these nights, and turn out the king and Parliament." "Hold your tongue, wife, and don't be keeping Lord Reginald and the other gentleman waiting," exclaimed the husband. "You see, my lord, how my good woman is afeered, and so I hope your lordship will pardon me, as I mustn't leave her alone, if I don't go up with you to the hall, for if any strangers were to come there would be no one to open the gate." "Stop and look after your wife; I can dispense with your attendance, for I know my way perfectly," answered Lord Reginald, laughing. "Come along, Voules, I shall be glad to be at home at last." The authoritative pull which the young nobleman gave to the hall bell soon brought the domestics to the door. The marquis and Lady Elverston, with their two fair daughters, and Lord John their eldest son, hurried out to meet Lord Reginald. His mother and sisters embraced him affectionately, gazing into his well-bronzed countenance, while his father and brother warmly wrung his hand, as they expressed their joy at his safe return. He then introduced his messmate Mr Voules, who received a polite welcome to Elverston Hall. "And now, pray tell us, Reginald, to what circumstances we are indebted for seeing you so unexpectedly," said the marquis. "The kindness of Captain Moubray; who, hearing, when our frigate came to an anchor in Yarmouth Roads, that we were within a short distance of this, allowed me and my messmate Voules, at my request, to come on shore and pay you a visit, while the _Wolf_ is refitting at Portsmouth." "What brings her back?" asked his father. "I understood that she was not expected home for some time." "We have had a glorious fight with a French frigate, which we compelled to strike, and have brought home as our prize; though, as we did not get off scot-free, it will take the _Wolf_ some time to repair damages." "Did you lose many men?" asked the marquis. "Twenty or more killed or wounded," answered Lord Reginald, in a careless tone. "My dear boy, how thankful I am that you escaped!" exclaimed the marchioness, gazing at him with a mother's love in her eyes. "Oh, do tell us all about it," cried Lady Lucy, his eldest sister. "All in good time," answered Reginald; "but to say the truth, we are very sharp set after our long walk, and should prefer refreshing the inner man before we exhaust our energies by talking, and I will refer you on the subject to Voules, whose descriptive powers are far superior to mine. All that I can tell is that we saw a ship, which we soon discovered to be French, and, coming up with her, fired away until, in the course of a couple of hours, having had enough of it, she hauled down her colours, and that when we were sent on board to take possession, we found that we had knocked over some forty or fifty stout fellows." The marquis rang the bell, while the midshipmen retired to their rooms to prepare for supper. Voules gazed round the handsome chamber in which he found himself, with a well-satisfied look. "I have fallen on my feet for once in my life, at all events," he said to himself. "If I play my cards well, who knows what may happen? It is evident that his family think a good deal of this young lordling, and I must take care to keep in his good graces. He is fond of flattery, though it doesn't do to lay it on too thick, but his sisters and mother will be well pleased to hear his praises sung, and as I have a fair groundwork to go upon, I may praise him to the skies behind his back; he is sure to hear what I say of him, and will be more pleased than if I flattered him to his face. I shall thus get into the good graces of the ladies, who may induce the marquis to use his influence at the Admiralty to obtain my promotion." His meditations were interrupted by the entrance of a valet, who came to offer his services. Voules, supposing from his appearance that he was one of the other guests who had mistaken his room, made him a polite bow, and said something to that effect. The valet, uncertain whether the young gentleman was a lord or a commoner, thought it wise to be on the safe side, and addressing him as "My lord," said that he had been sent by Lord John to brush his clothes and shoes, and as the portmanteaus had not arrived, to put any of his lordship's wardrobe at his disposal. "Oh, ah! my good fellow," said the midshipman, discovering his error; "much obliged to Lord John; but as there is not time to shift my rigging, I'll just trouble you to give me a brush down and to bring me a pair of slippers, and I shall be all to rights." The valet quickly performed the duties required of him, and Voules, perfectly satisfied with himself, followed him downstairs to the drawing-room. CHAPTER TWO. VOULES MAKES HIMSELF AT HOME--EAGER LISTENERS--FIGHT BETWEEN THE WOLF AND A FRENCH FRIGATE--LORD REGINALD'S ACCOUNT--MERIT AND MODESTY--A BUMPER ROUND--VOULES MAKES HEADWAY--DICK HARGRAVE--AN ENCOUNTER IN THE FOREST--SMUGGLERS--GOOD FAITHFUL--THE FARMER'S HOME--DICK'S MOTHER-- SOUND ADVICE--CONTENDING INFLUENCES--BITTER FEELINGS--A PRUDENT RESOLUTION. Several guests were staying in the house, and a large party were soon assembled round the supper-table. The two midshipmen were objects of general interest, and they had more questions asked than they could well answer. Voules had the honour of sitting near Lady Elverston. Lord Reginald was at the other end of the table, where his father had placed him, anxious to hear from his own lips an account of what had occurred. Just then, however, being very hungry, the young lord was more interested in discussing the viands placed before him than in narrating the particulars of the engagement. Voules had therefore the field to himself, and although quite as hungry as his brother midshipman, he restrained his appetite, for the sake of giving full play to his tongue. "I can assure your ladyship that we have had as fine an action as any which has been fought during the war, and though his modesty might induce him to disclaim any peculiar merit, Lord Reginald played no unimportant part in it," began Toady Voules, bowing to the marchioness, and then giving a quick glance towards the other end of the table to ascertain whether his messmate was listening. Finding that he was fully engaged with the viands before him, he went on. "We were about thirty leagues from the coast of Spain, in the latitude of Cadiz, when early one morning, we discovered a sail to the south-west, we having the wind at the time from the north-east. As you may suppose, we immediately bore up in chase, for we had every hope that the stranger would prove an enemy. It was some time, however, before we could settle the point, as the wind was light and we made but little way. At length, to our great joy, we were almost sure that she was a French frigate by the cut of her canvas and the appearance of her hull; at last, when she hoisted her colours and fired a gun to windward, we had no doubt about the matter. She was hove to, with her mizzen-topsail aback and the main-topsail shivering, waiting for us. This showed that her captain was a brave fellow, and would give us some trouble before we were likely to make him strike. "We were all in high spirits, and I never saw Lord Reginald look cooler or more at his ease than he then did. Our captain, to prevent the French frigate from escaping, made up his mind to engage her to leeward. Our men were at their quarters, with matches in their hands, ready to fire. The word, however, was passed along the decks that not a gun should be discharged until the captain should give the signal, though the enemy had begun to blaze away, and his shot was passing through our sails and cutting up our rigging. The enemy, seeing our intention, wore and foiled the manoeuvre. As she sailed much better than the _Wolf_, our captain at length saw that he must adopt a different plan to that which he had at first intended. The Frenchman several times filled and wore so as on each occasion to bring a fresh broadside to bear on the _Wolf_, which annoyed us greatly. It was trying work to have her shot crashing on board without being able to return the compliment. Fortunately, the Frenchman firing high, few of our men were hurt. We now steered directly down upon the enemy, and having got within pistol-shot of her, the satisfactory words reached us, `Give it her, my lads, and enough of it.' We did give it her, the men tossing their guns about like playthings, running them in, loading and firing two shots to the Frenchman's one. We were now what we wanted to be, engaging the enemy broadside to broadside, within pistol-shot distance, pouring into each other a fire of round, grape, and musketry. I am afraid you would not understand the various manoeuvres we performed. As we carried a press of sail, we shot past the enemy, who, bearing up, managed to cross our stern and pour in a raking fire. As our captain saw what she was about to do, he ordered all hands to fall flat on the deck, and many who might have had their heads knocked off thus escaped. As the shot flew over us like a shower of hail, the only person I saw on his feet besides the captain and first lieutenant was Lord Reginald. He told me afterwards that he could not bring himself to bend before a Frenchman. `Better, my dear Oswald, to do that than to be knocked down by a Frenchman's shot,' I observed. `No, no!' he answered. `I should have died an honourable death.' I beg to observe that I did not agree with my noble messmate; but I mention the circumstance only to show what stuff he is made of. "We were quickly on our feet again, and engaged in firing every gun we could bring to bear. After some time, having crossed each other's courses, we being ahead of the French ship, she stood right at us, bringing her larboard bow against our starboard quarter, over which her bowsprit ran, pressing against the mizzen rigging. The captain immediately ordered it to be lashed there, to prevent her escaping. Lord Reginald was, I can assure you, among the first to obey the captain's order. Several men were shot in the attempt, but at last it was successful. Scarcely, however, was it done, and we had the Frenchman fast, than we saw the greater portion of her crew rushing forward, ready to spring down on our decks. It was as much as we could do, I can tell you, to keep them at bay. Our marines, stationed on the quarter-deck, fired away at them as fast as they could load and discharge their muskets, but not until our captain himself, at the head of our own boarders, armed with cutlasses, pikes, and pistols, rushed to our quarter, over which the enemy had begun to pour, was their progress stopped. It was desperate work; those who had gained our deck were cut down, others were hove into the sea, while the remainder beat a rapid retreat. Their foremost guns then began to thunder away at us, and we could not bring one to bear in return, until a couple of pieces were dragged aft on the main-deck and run through the cabin windows, which had been cut down to serve as ports. We had now an advantage of which we made good use. Every shot we fired told with tremendous effect, but the enemy was still unconquered. The lashings which held the bowsprit of the French ship to the mizzen rigging giving way, she began to forge ahead. As she did so, a fortunate shot cut away the gammoning of her bowsprit. We were now exchanging broadsides yardarm to yardarm, but the drubbing they had already received seemed to dishearten the Frenchmen. Still they held out, showing a wonderful amount of pluck. They had sent men into the tops, armed with muskets, who were firing down on our deck, and had already wounded several of our officers. I was standing a short distance from our captain, when I saw Lord Reginald seize the musket of a marine who had just been killed, and at the same time shove the captain aside and fire at the maintop, when down came a man on deck. The captain was saved. The fellow had been taking aim at him, and there is no doubt that he owes his life to the coolness and resolution of Lord Reginald, although he looked rather astonished at being treated in so unceremonious a manner by a midshipman--" "Why, you make Lord Reginald a perfect hero," observed a dowager duchess sitting opposite to Voules, who might possibly have suspected that the young gentleman was drawing on his imagination as to the details of the action. "Pray go on, Mr Voules," said Lady Julia. "I could not listen to you without trembling; and, did I not see my brother sitting safe there, should be thinking all sorts of dreadful things. I wonder any one remained alive on the decks of the ships engaged in so fearful a battle." "A good many did lose the number of their mess, but fewer were killed than might have been supposed, for round shot and bullets fortunately have a happy knack of making their way between the heads of people without hitting them. "By this time our gallant frigate, which had lately been under a cloud of canvas, swelling proudly to the breeze, made a deplorable appearance with rope's ends and torn sails hanging down from every mast and yard. The French ship, however, was in a still worse condition. The sails, however, were of sufficient service to force the two ships through the water, and the Frenchman took advantage of this, and hauled up, in a short time getting out of gun-shot, we being unable, in consequence of the loss of our gaff and topsails, to follow. Our captain, however, had no intention, as you may suppose, of letting her escape. All hands set to work to knot and splice our rigging, to refit braces and repair other damages. While thus employed, we saw the Frenchman's foremast fall over the side. Our crew, as you may suppose, raised a loud cheer at the sight, and redoubled their efforts to be ready, should a breeze spring up, for again getting within range of our opponent. Scarcely had the hands reached the deck, when we saw a ripple playing over the ocean; the sails were trimmed, and once more, with eager hearts, we steered towards the French ship. We did not suppose that she would hold out long, but after the pluck her captain had exhibited, we fully expected to be at it again. In a few minutes the crew were at their quarters, ready to fire a broadside, when down came the Frenchman's colours. "`She has struck! she has struck!' resounded through the ship. We at once hove to. The first lieutenant was sent on board to take possession; I had the honour to accompany him. The sight I had witnessed on board our own ship was bad enough, for we had upwards of twenty men killed and wounded, the former still lying in their blood where they fell; but on stepping on the Frenchman's deck, it seemed literally covered with dead men, for the rest of the crew had been too busy to throw any of them overboard, while the cockpit below was filled with wounded, many of whom were too much hurt to recover. "The French captain, who came to the gangway to present his sword to the first lieutenant, informed us that the ship was the _Reynard_, when we found that she was not only of larger size and carried four more guns than we had, but had commenced the action with upwards of two hundred men more than we mustered. The French captain, Monsieur Brunet, who had really fought his ship very gallantly, shrugged his shoulders, exclaiming, `It is the fortune of war!' as he delivered up his sword, and was requested, having packed up his personal effects, to go on board the _Wolf_, in a boat sent for the purpose. The boats of the French frigate were too much knocked about to float, and it took us some time to remove the prisoners and send a prize crew on board. It was night, therefore, before we were ready to make sail, when we steered a course for the north-west, to avoid the French fleet, which was supposed to be off the coast of Spain or Portugal. "The scene on board the prize made me very glad to get back to my own ship. Though we had gained the battle, we were not allowed to sleep on beds of roses. Our prisoners considerably outnumbered our own crew, and our boatswain, who spoke French, having been taken during the earlier part of the war, overheard some of them discussing a plan for overpowering us and regaining the prize. As we could not put them all in irons, we had to keep a strict watch over their movements. "The weather remained fine, but there was a thick mist which prevented us from seeing far ahead. It had just gone two bells in the morning watch, when, as I was forward, I heard a tinkling sound. I listened attentively. Again the sound distinctly struck my ear. It came borne along the surface of the water from some distance. I reported the circumstance to the officer of the watch, and he immediately sent to inform the captain. He soon reached the deck, and after listening for a while, announced it to be his belief that the sounds proceeded from the French fleet. He immediately ordered the ship's course to be changed to the westward. In another hour we again hauled up to the northward. When morning broke, the look-out from the mast announced a fleet in sight to the south-east. All the sail we and our prize could make was set. We soon discovered, however, that several large ships were in chase of us, but our captain was not the man to give in while a stick remained standing. We continued our course, hoping that a change of wind or some other chance might enable us to escape our pursuers. It would have been tantalising to have lost our prize and have been taken prisoners ourselves, and some of the least hopeful declared that such would be our fate. `Well,' exclaimed Lord Reginald, `we must submit, but nothing can take away the honour we have gained by capturing a French frigate of superior force.' Your ladyship will perceive the courage and spirit of your gallant son; indeed, he has exhibited them on many occasions, and I hope that some day we may see him leading England's fleets to victory." "What's that you are saying about me?" exclaimed Lord Reginald, from the other end of the table, for during the sudden silence of those around him he had caught the last words uttered by his messmate. "Mr Voules is only speaking of you as you deserve, my dear Reginald," said the marchioness. "He has been giving us an account of the battle and the gallant way in which you behaved." "We all behaved gallantly, or we should not have thrashed the enemy," said Reginald, laughing. "I hope Mr Voules has given you a clearer account than Reginald has himself, for, except that the two ships spent the morning in pounding away at each other, and that at length the Frenchman, being tired of the amusement, and having lost his foremast, hauled down his colours, I have heard no details of the action," said the marquis. "Then his modesty prevented him relating how he lashed the bowsprit to the rigging and saved the captain's life," observed the marchioness. "I lash the bowsprit to the rigging? Why, the men did that, and very imperfectly they performed the work, or our antagonist would not have got clear again; and as to saving the captain's life, I know only that I took up a musket and brought down a Frenchman, or he would have knocked over the captain or me, or somebody else." "Whose account is to be relied on?" asked the marquis, looking somewhat puzzled. "I do not wish to gainsay my noble messmate, but your lordship must make allowance for his modesty, and give me credit for stating facts as they occurred," answered Voules. "I see how it is," observed the marquis, glancing approvingly at his son. "Merit is always modest, which may account, Mr Voules, for your not having described your own gallant deeds," said the marchioness, looking hard at him. Being a clear-sighted woman, she may have suspected why the smooth-tongued young gentleman had praised his noble messmate. "But how did the _Wolf_ and her prize manage to escape from the enemy?" asked Lady Julia. "Pray go on and tell us, Mr Voules." "For some time I must own that we fully expected to be captured, for wounded as our masts and spars were, we could not venture to make more sail; indeed, it is a wonder those of the prize which remained standing did not fall over the side. Fortunately, we had a good start, and the wind being light, the French ships did not gain on us as fast as they would otherwise have done. To our infinite satisfaction, just about noon, we saw them haul their wind, having been probably recalled by their admiral, who thought it possible that they might run into the jaws of an English squadron, which he must have known was cruising in the neighbourhood. We had still no small anxiety about our prisoners, and, I believe, it was not a little owing to the vigilance of Lord Reginald that they were prevented from rising. His perfect knowledge of French, for which he tells me he is indebted to his sisters, enabled him to speak to the men, warning them of the danger they would run should they make the attempt, and in a short time he brought them into good humour, notwithstanding which, as before, a strict watch was kept on their movements. Having stood well to the westward, we got a fair breeze, which carried us up Channel and safe inside the Isle of Wight, where I hope the prize is by this time, for she was close in with the Needles, and was only prevented following us for want of wind and the ebb still making out against her. It would be a serious matter if she were to run on shore during the night, or be retaken by a French cruiser." "No chance of that," observed Reginald. "No French cruiser would ever venture so close in with our shore, and within two or three hours at most the prize would be able to follow the frigate." "I must get you, Mr Voules, to repeat the account you have given of the action for my benefit, as Reginald is wonderfully reticent on the subject," said the marquis. "I shall have great pleasure, my lord," answered Voules, bowing. "In the mean time, do me the honour of taking wine, and we will afterwards drink a bumper round to the future success of the _Wolf_," said the marquis. "The very toast I was going to propose," said an old general, who had long since been placed on the shelf. "Though my fighting days are over, an account such as we have just heard warms up my stagnant blood, and I beg to second your lordship's proposal." "Charge your glasses, gentlemen, and I hope, ladies, that on this occasion you will join us," exclaimed the master of the house. No one declining, the fair sex put out their more moderately sized glasses to be filled as the bottle went round. The toast was drunk, the whole party standing, with the exception of the two midshipmen, who, with assumed modest looks, retained their places. "And now we will give three cheers for our naval heroes," cried the old general, making an effort to stand up on his chair, but giving it up, as he reflected on the danger he might run of toppling over among the dishes which still covered the board. "Hip, hip, hip, hurrah!" and the supper-room rang with the sounds, which were taken up by the servants outside and repeated in the hall below, where the domestics not in waiting were making merry. When all the guests sat down they looked at the two midshipmen, while Reginald made signs to Voules to speak. "You are the eldest, old fellow, and having been longest in the service, it is your business to reply." Voules, nothing loth, rose to his feet. His only difficulty in commencing being the doubt whether he should address his friends as "My lords and ladies." His tact, however, prevented him doing so, and he contented himself by neatly expressing his thanks for the honour done to the glorious service of which he was so humble a representative. "Had Lord Reginald been induced to speak," he added, "he would have said more to the purpose. My belief is, that should the war continue a few years longer, my noble friend will be found in command of as fine a frigate as the _Wolf_, and will outshine the deeds of his predecessors. Should I be so fortunate as to have reached the rank of lieutenant by that time, I hope that it will be my privilege to serve under him." Voules's modest remark in reference to himself drew forth, as he intended it should, a reply from his host, who assured him that any interest he possessed should be exerted to obtain for him the promotion he deserved, and that he hoped to see him a post-captain as soon as his son had obtained that rank. "Thank you, my lord, thank you!" exclaimed Voules, highly delighted. "Your lordship will allow me to remind you of your promise, whenever Lord Reginald obtains a step in rank. I do not aspire to be promoted before him, and shall be glad to serve in any ship to which he is appointed, until we are both eligible for independent commands." The ladies now withdrew, and when the gentlemen left the supper-table it was found that they had retired to their rooms. Voules was too prudent a man generally to take more wine than his head could stand. So delighted, however, did he feel with his bright prospects, that he found considerable difficulty in restraining his tongue, and excusing himself on the plea of fatigue, was glad to make his way to his room, where he was followed by Lord John. "I came to thank you, Mr Voules, for the very handsome way in which you spoke of my brother," said the latter. "He is a very fine fellow, somewhat thoughtless and impetuous, and requires guiding, and I rejoice to think that he has found so steady a friend as you are to guide and restrain him." Voules put on as sedate an air as possible, although just then he did not feel very capable of guiding himself, for he had had considerable difficulty in steering a straight course along the passage which led to his room. "You may depend upon me, my dear Lord John, that I will do my best to keep your lordship's brother out of mischief. I do not profess to be his monitor, but I may exert an unperceived influence over him to his advantage." "And did he really perform all the gallant acts you describe?" asked Lord John. "Every one of them, and others besides," answered the midshipman. "There's not a more gallant young officer in the service, and he'll make the world know it some day, if no harm befall him." In spite of all the efforts he made, Voules could not help yawning, and Lord John, perceiving this, allowed him to go to bed in quiet, while he went to have a further talk with his brother, who, however, by that time, had turned in and had already fast closed his eyes. In the mean time Dick Hargrave hurried towards his home with the fish he and Ben had caught, anxious to present them to his young sister, whom he dearly loved. He stopped at the village inn, the Admiral Benbow, and found that the two midshipmen had only just left it for Elverston Hall. "I have no fancy to meet the young lord and his friend," observed Dick, "or we may chance to fall out, so I'll take the other road, and shall soon get ahead of them." Following this wise resolution, he set off at a pace which soon brought him to the borders of the forest. He knew the road too well to be impeded by the darkness. He was running on, his own footsteps not allowing him to hear other sounds, when on passing beneath some overhanging trees, the shadow of which prevented him from seeing objects ahead, he suddenly found himself close upon a body of men, some on horseback and others on foot, escorting a line of carts. Dick at once knew what they were about, and not wishing to be stopped, he sprang on, hoping to remain concealed behind the trunk of a tree until they had passed by; but he had been observed, and two of the men came up to him. "What business have you here, youngster?" asked one of them, seizing his arm and dragging him forward. "I am Farmer Hargrave's son, and am on my way home with some fish Ben Rudall and I have been catching for my sister Janet," he answered. "All right, Master Dick," said the man; "we know you well enough; but don't say that you have seen us, and if Ben has taken care to show himself, the revenue people won't suspect what's in the wind, as they will think that he would be sure to be along with us. Have you any news?" "Nothing that much concerns you, Master Fryer," answered Dick, who recognised the speaker. "A frigate anchored in Yarmouth Roads this evening, and two of the officers, one of them Lord Elverston's son, have landed and gone on to the hall." "I should like to pay them off for the trouble the marquis gives us," said Fryer; "though we have put him on a wrong scent, and he is not likely to find out this time what we are about, until the goods are safe in the hands of the London merchants." "It would not do us much good to interfere with the youngsters," observed the other man. "If the marquis would but let us alone we should have no ill will towards him. All we want is free trade and fair play." "You are right there, mate," observed Fryer; "and now, Master Dick, you may go your way, and remember to keep a quiet tongue in your head." Dick, escorted by his captors, who explained who he was, passed unquestioned through the main body of the smugglers, who had halted for some reason for a few minutes, just as he got up to them. Dick again hurried on, while the smugglers proceeded along by-paths across the country, shortly after to fall in, as has been seen, with the midshipmen. Dick was met by his faithful dog, who was always on the watch for him when he was away from home, and having an especial duty to perform, seldom accompanied him. That duty, which he performed with exemplary patience, was to lead about blind Janet, who, under his guidance, when she was well, would venture in all directions without the slightest fear of a mishap. Every one in the neighbourhood knew her and her dog, and even the roughest characters treated her with courtesy. Of late her walks had been greatly curtailed, for the last few days Faithful's office had become a sinecure, though he still remained at his post, ready to perform his duty if required. He was a handsome spaniel, and had been brought up from a puppy by Dick, who had thoroughly broken him in. Though fond of scampering across the fields and poking his nose into every hole he could find in the hedges and ditches, he became as sedate as a judge the moment Janet called him and fastened the ribbon by which she was led to his collar. Dick was naturally very fond of his dog, but had become still more so since the animal had shown how useful it could make itself to poor Janet. Faithful, who had long been on the watch, when he heard his master's footsteps, with a bark of welcome leaped over the palings, and came frolicking and leaping round him, licking his hands to show his joy, and together they entered the house. Mrs Hargrave, a comely, pleasant-looking dame, was seated busily stitching by the side of the table. "What has kept you so late, Dick?" she asked in an anxious tone. "Your father has gone to bed, as he must be up betimes. We thought that you had got into some mischief; but I am thankful to see you back, my son." Dick explained what he had been about, and exhibited the fish he had brought. "And how is Janet this evening?" he asked. "I thought that I should have been back in time for her to have one for supper, but they'll do for her breakfast or her dinner to-morrow." "She's asleep, sweet dear! though I'm afraid she's no better. The Lord's will be done, if He thinks fit to take her; and then, Dick, I want you to remember that you will be your father's chief hope and stay in his trouble. Whether or not we shall have to turn out of our home, and seek for another farm, is more than I can say. Your father doesn't wish to displease the marquis, but he thinks that it is his right to remain where he is, and that he would not be acting like an Englishman to give up that right." "Of course he would not," exclaimed Dick. "Ben Rudall says he would not knock under to the marquis or any other lord, and he would hold on fast with tooth and nail." "I don't want to say anything against Ben Rudall, my son; but I wish that you were not such friends with him. He is a smuggler, and may draw you into mischief, though maybe you'll think it ungrateful in me to say so, when he has helped you to catch those fish. Remember that you cannot associate with bad characters without getting some harm and being looked upon as one of them." "Ben is a right honest fellow, and true as steel," answered Dick. "I don't like to hear anything said against him, mother; if he were ever so bad, he would not lead me astray." "He is a smuggler, Dick, and though he may be true to his companions, he is false to his country, or he would not be trying to cheat the revenue, as the smugglers do." "I had not thought of that; but don't you trouble yourself about Ben," answered Dick. "Now, mother, I am pretty hungry, and should like some bread and cheese;" and Dick turned round to go to the larder. "Sit down, my son, and I'll get them for you," said Mrs Hargrave, taking the fish at the same time. "While you are eating, I'll clean these, and they'll be ready in the morning if Janet has a fancy for one of them." She soon returned, not only with some bread and cheese but some cold meat, and a mug of home-brewed beer, showing that the good housewife did not stint her family. Dick described the arrival of the young lord and his shipmate. "I'd as leave he had stopped at sea, for, somehow or other, he and I are always getting foul of each other. But there will be rare doings up at the hall to welcome him home, especially if there's been a battle, as Ben thinks, and his ship gained the day." "Then, Dick, do you keep out of his way, and no harm can come of it," said Mrs Hargrave. "I am glad, however, for her ladyship's sake, and the young ladies, for they will be main pleased to see him. Only this morning they came here to visit Janet, and when I told my lady what Mr Gooch says, she promised to speak to the marquis, and that makes me hope that the matter will be settled better than your father expects." "Not if that young lord finds out about it. He'll try and set his father against us. You should have heard him and his shipmate this afternoon blackguarding Ben and me, because we wouldn't carry their portmanteaus." "There would have been no disgrace in so doing. It shows that they thought you stronger men than themselves," observed Mrs Hargrave. "I should not have minded doing it, if it hadn't been for Ben; but the way they spoke put his back up, and he gave them a piece of his mind." "Just now, Dick, you said that you would not be influenced by Ben; but surely you were on that occasion," remarked Mrs Hargrave. "However, Dick, I do not want to blame you, but just try to keep clear of those men, and show what a help you can be to your father on the farm. Now, as you have had your supper, you had better go to bed, and I'll close the door. I want to sit by Janet's side, in case she should awake before I lie down. Do not forget to say your prayers, my son, and sing one of the hymns I taught you, though you look so sleepy that I am afraid you will not think much about what you are saying." Dick had in truth given way to several wide yawns, while his eyelids had begun to droop. He followed his mother's advice, as far as he was able, and especially in the last particular; but he was fast asleep as soon almost as his head touched the pillow. CHAPTER THREE. GOOD INTENTIONS--BLIND JANET--POOR FAITHFUL SHOT--A TRYING MOMENT-- DICK'S ANGER--DESIRE OF REVENGE--A DANGEROUS SPEECH--THREATENING TO SHOOT--THE CONSEQUENCES--TEMPTED--INDIGNATION OF THE FARMER'S SON--A SORROWFUL DUTY--GRIEF OF THE BLIND GIRL--A SCHEME OF MR GOOCH--DICK'S FEARS OF ARREST--RUNNING AWAY FROM HOME--AT THE SMUGGLER'S COTTAGE--ON BOARD THE NANCY--SAFE FOR THE PRESENT. Dick Hargrave kept to his resolution of trying to avoid meeting with Lord Reginald. Should he do so it would not be his fault, and should he fall in with him, he would endeavour to retain his temper, should his lordship speak to him in his former style. He likewise refrained from going to Keyhaven, or any other place where he was likely to meet any of his associates engaged in smuggling, although it was difficult to say who was not, more or less, implicated in the lawless proceedings so general at that time along the south coast. He assisted his father on the farm, and occasionally took Janet out for a short walk, as, notwithstanding the doctor's expectations, she was able to get up again the very day after she had appeared to be so ill. She declared that it was owing to the nice fish Dick had brought her. Again, however, she was confined to her room. As she could not take out Faithful, she begged that Dick would give him a run. "The poor dog sits so quietly at my feet all day, and if he sees me moving, I hear his tail thumping on the floor, and he begins to scamper about, fancying I am going to take him out. It is very dull for him, poor dog, and he deserves some amusement," she said. Dick promised to follow her wishes, and the next morning, saying that he would try to shoot a rabbit, and summoning Faithful, who bounded after him, he set off with his gun in his hand. With the assistance of the dog, he soon shot a couple of rabbits, with which he was about to return home. Faithful, however, highly delighted at finding himself abroad, went ranging wildly over the fields. Dick called to him, but the dog was too eager in the chase or too far off to hear his voice, and did not, as usual, return. Some minutes passed, when Dick heard a shot coming from the direction in which Faithful had disappeared. He hurried on, fearing that one of the keepers had caught sight of him; but then they all knew Janet's dog, and the most surly would not have had the heart to fire at the honest brute, even though he might have been infringing the game laws by scampering for amusement after a hare or rabbit. Dick looked out anxiously, hoping to see the dog return; but though he shouted, "Faithful! Faithful!" and whistled shrilly, the animal did not make its appearance. Wondering what could have become of it, he went on calling its name. At last he saw it crawling towards him, dragging its limbs along in evident pain. At length the poor dog, unable to get further, sank to the ground. Dick, darting forward to where it lay, stooped down to ascertain how it was hurt. Its lacerated side, which bled profusely, showed that it had been shot. "What villain has dared to hurt you, my poor Faithful?" exclaimed Dick. The dog's only reply, true to its name, was to lick his hand and endeavour to rise, but again it fell back, and after a few convulsive struggles, expired. "Poor, poor Faithful! Janet will miss you, that she will! She will never find so trusty an animal to lead her about; but I'll be revenged on the fellow, whoever he is. He ought to have known that you never poached, though you did love to run after a hare, for the fun of the thing. If I can meet the savage brute I'll shoot him, as sure as my name is Richard Hargrave." "What's that you say, you young ruffian?" exclaimed a voice near him. Dick had not observed three persons who had approached. Looking up, he saw Lord Reginald and his brother midshipman, attended by a keeper. "I do say that the heartless fellow who shot this dog deserves to be shot himself," exclaimed Dick, looking boldly up. "I shot the dog; it deserved to be killed for chasing hares on my father's property," answered the young lord. "You yourself must have set him on to drive the hares towards you. You are a poacher; we must have you up before the magistrates and punish you accordingly." "I did not set him on," answered Dick, rising to his feet, "and I had no intention of killing any hares on the Elverston property. These rabbits I shot on my father's farm, and I had a perfect right to kill them. The dog belongs to my blind sister. As she is ill, I took the poor brute out for a run." "A very likely story!" exclaimed Lord Reginald. "You have a gun in your hand and rabbits over your shoulder, and you had sent your dog scampering over the fields in search of more. I know your name, and shall report you to my father, so you may expect to take up your quarters in prison before many days are over." "The lad speaks the truth, my lord, about the dog," observed the keeper, who had stepped forward and examined poor Faithful. "I have seen it many a time leading Farmer Hargrave's blind daughter about, though whether he shot the rabbits on his father's farm or not is another matter. We have never found him poaching before, so that part of the story may be true also." "I am sorry to have shot the dog, if it was useful to his blind sister," said Lord Reginald; "and, I say, Jackson, I wish you'd look out for another to give the poor girl, instead of this one; she'll not find out the difference." "I wouldn't let her receive it if you should give her one!" exclaimed Dick, his anger in no way pacified by the young lord's expressions of regret. "No dog could be found to equal Faithful; but I myself will look after a dog to take its place." "Really, my dear Oswald, I cannot stand by to see you thus insulted by this ungrateful young ruffian," said Voules. "He has threatened to shoot you, and he looks like a fellow capable of doing what he says. The sooner he is taken up and sent to prison the better." "I have not been poaching! If you lay hands on me it will be the worse for you," said Dick, grasping his gun. "Come, come, Master Dick, do you go to your home, and do not be so foolish as to threaten mischief. It is dangerous to use such words, and you'll be sorry for them by-and-by," said the keeper, wisely interposing between the exasperated young men. "I know where to find you if you are wanted; but I don't suppose the marquis will be hard upon you, when he hears how it was your sister's dog was shot. If, my lord, you'll please to let the lad go, I'll undertake that he shall not come into the park again. His father is not the man to allow him to do anything against the law." Lord Reginald, who really much regretted having shot the dog, willingly listened to the keeper's advice, and Voules, who had no object to gain in irritating him further against Dick Hargrave, said no more on the subject. "Well, Hargrave, I will try to forget your threats, and I again assure you that had I known the dog was your sister's, I would not have shot it," said Lord Reginald, turning aside; and without waiting for an answer he led the way, followed by Voules and the keeper, in the direction of the hall, leaving Dick still standing by the side of his dog. "I do not trust his fair words," said Dick, looking after the party; "but I am obliged to Jackson for speaking a word in my favour, for if it had not been for him, matters would have become worse. Poor Faithful! I don't know how I shall ever have the heart to tell Janet what has happened," and stooping down he again examined the dog, to assure himself that it was really dead. Of this he was soon convinced. "I'll not let you lie here, my poor dog!" he exclaimed, and taking it up in his arms, he walked away with it towards his home. He was crossing the road from Keyhaven, when a voice hailed him, and looking round he saw Ben Rudall approaching. "What hast thou got there, Dick?" asked Ben. "Your sister's dog--and killed, too! How did that happen?" Dick told him, describing what had occurred. "And thee wouldst trust the chaps, would thee?" said Ben, speaking in the Hampshire dialect. "No, no; don't be doin' that. Measter Jackson may have spoken fair enough, but he knows that he's got his thumb on thee, an' can come down on thee when he loiks. Now, just listen to what I have got to say. I was going to look for thee. The _Nancy_ is expected in before many days are over, an' she'll be sailing again the next morning. If thee'll come down to Keyhaven, there'll be a good chance of taking a trip, an' 'twill be safer for thee to be out of the way in case the young lord should change his mind an' have thee up for poachin'. When the marquis hears of it, it's my belief that he won't let thee off, for he's wonderfully strict about the matter, and if he had his will he'd be sending half the people hereabouts to prison." Dick had not forgotten his mother's advice to keep clear of Ben Rudall, and he knew well enough that even though he should only go as a passenger, he would be committed to whatever was done by her crew. "You mean kindly, Ben, I know," he said; "but I cannot leave Janet, she's so ill; and if she gets better, there'll be no one except mother and me to walk out with her, now poor Faithful's gone; but if I hear there's a chance of my being had up for poaching, maybe it's the best thing I can do." Ben laughed scornfully. "They'll not let thee know what they intend to do; but thee would find thyself carried off to Winchester jail some fine morning, so just don't be a fool, Dick, an' come along with me." Dick, however, was firm in his resolution not to go off without seeing his mother and sister, and Ben was obliged to be content with his promise that he would come down to Keyhaven to talk the matter over. He would have been wiser had he not given that promise. Ben returned the way he had come, and Dick, carrying the body of his dog, continued on towards his home. On reaching the cottage, he carried the dog to a corner of the garden, while he went in for a spade to dig its grave. While he was searching for one in the outhouse, his mother saw him. "What has happened, Dick?" she exclaimed, observing the blood on his clothes. He at once narrated what had occurred, for although he had many faults, he was truthful to her. "I am very sorry for what has happened. Poor dear Janet will almost break her heart. She said that she should like to take a stroll to-morrow with Faithful, if you were not able to accompany her. However, we must bear with it. From what you say, the young lord would not have shot the dog if he had known whose it was, and if he gives Janet another, she may become as fond of it as she was of Faithful." "I should not like her to become fond of Lord Reginald's dog," answered Dick. "If he sends one, I shall have a mind to shoot it, or send it back to him with a kettle tied to its tail." "That would not be a right thing to do," observed Mrs Hargrave. "We should not harbour ill feelings towards others, though they have done us wrong. Come in now, and let me wash the blood off your coat. It looks bad, and if your father were to return, it would frighten him, as it did me. We'll just break the news gently to Janet, and don't say you won't receive another dog if the young lord sends one. Remember how kind his mother and sisters are, and I dare say he is not so bad at heart, though he has more than once fallen out with you." "He has an abusive tongue in his head, and that shows what sort of heart he has got," answered Dick, not inclined to agree with his mother about Lord Reginald. "You tell me the ladies speak so sweetly, but, as Ben Rudall says, that's all outside show, and I would not trust them." "That's because you have never been at home when they have called, or you would have agreed with me, if you had," observed Mrs Hargrave. "Stay here while I get a sponge and some hot water; I can't let you go about as you are; I cannot tell what people would say. If you were seen, there would be all sorts of tales about you." "I don't care what is said, and I should just like them to know that Lord Reginald is a brute. That's what I call him." "Hush! hush, Dick!" said his mother. "Sit you down here, until I have taken off those blood stains, for although poor Janet cannot see them, some one else may come in, and ask what has happened." Dick seated himself on a bench to which his mother pointed, and she quickly returned with soap and water. It was no easy operation, however, to get rid of the stains, and Dick declared that before he came in he must bury the dog. To this Mrs Hargrave consented, as she thought it would be a good opportunity to tell Janet of the loss of her favourite. Dick, taking up the spade, and having selected a spot for Faithful's grave, began digging away. More than once he stopped and gazed at the animal, feeling unwilling to put it so soon out of sight; then he went on more energetically than before. Having just completed his task, he leaned on his spade, while the tears rolled down his cheeks, as he thought he should never see his dog again. The wind had begun to blow strong, and dark clouds were gathering in the sky. The gloomy aspect of Nature suited his feelings. On looking up, he saw his mother and Janet approaching. "Mother has told me, Dick, what has happened," said his sister, as she came up. "I want to stroke Faithful's head once more before you put him into his grave." She stooped down by the side of the dog. "Oh! He doesn't feel my hand now," she said. "I am very sorry; but, Dick, I want you to promise me not to nourish anger against the young lord. He would not have fired had he known the dog was so useful to me. He told you as much. If I forgive him, you must." "I may forgive, but I do not forget," said Dick. "If he keeps to his word, I'll believe that he did not intend to do the cruel act. However, we must put poor Faithful in his grave, and if I do not make a vow to be revenged on Lord Reginald, it is because you are here to prevent me, Janet." "I would that you had a higher motive than that," said Mrs Hargrave. "Now, Janet, you must return to the house; I promised you'd stop but one minute; Dick will soon have finished his task, and then he'll come in to supper. Father will soon be home, Dick, so don't delay." Dick, having at length brought himself to place the dog in its grave, hastily shovelled in the earth, muttering as he did so, "He'd better not cross me again; if he does he'll have to repent it. Lie there, poor dog!" he added, as he finished the work. "I've a mind to put up a tombstone, and write on it, `Wantonly killed by Lord Reginald Oswald.'" On entering the cottage, he found that his father, having come in, had heard what had happened. He was thankful at all events that he had not had to break the news to Janet. Farmer Hargrave said what he thought would pacify his son, and declared his belief that the young lord had not killed the dog with any malicious intent. Dick pressed his lips together and made no reply. He could not trust himself. They were just finishing supper when a knock was heard at the door, and Dick, opening it, Mr Gooch the bailiff entered. "Good evening, farmer; good evening, dame; somewhat stormy weather," he said, throwing back his wet coat, and placing his dripping hat on the floor, as he took the seat offered him. "I didn't think it was coming on to be so bad, until just before sunset. It blows hard enough now, and the rain is coming down in torrents, but I wanted to talk over that affair between us, so I came out in spite of the weather." "What have you got to say, Mr Gooch?" asked the farmer. "You know as well as I do that I have no wish to leave this farm. It will be a heavy loss to me to give it up, and I am determined to abide by my rights." "Very good, Mr Hargrave, very good," said the bailiff, in a bland tone. "His lordship doesn't want to be hard upon you, and if you have the right to remain, he would be the last man to ask you to turn out, but as I before told you, you have not the right, and if you go to law you'll be worsted. Now, a little piece of information has come to my knowledge which may make you see that it would not be wise to go to law, even supposing there was a chance of your winning. I have not communicated with my lord on the subject, so I act on my own responsibility. This lad here, your son, has put himself in an awkward position. He has been poaching--not for the first time, either. I have just heard all about it from Jackson, the keeper, and from a young gentleman who is staying at the hall. They can give evidence, not only that he was poaching, but that he threatened the life of Lord Reginald Oswald--a very serious business, let me tell you. Had he fired, as he threatened to do, he would have been hung to a certainty, and as it is, I see every probability that he will be sentenced to seven years' penal servitude. Now, of course, his lordship has it in his power to overlook the offence, and if I can tell him that you will yield to his wishes and consent to give up the farm, I am pretty sure that you will hear no more about the matter, only you must restrain your son from poaching in future, or from associating with smugglers, as I have evidence that he is in the habit of doing." The farmer listened to all the bailiff said, while Dick sat clenching his hands, with his eyes to the ground, every now and then giving a look at his mother. Ben was right, then, in warning him. Had he accompanied the old smuggler at once, and got out of the way, Mr Gooch would not have been able to obtain the upper hand of his father. When the bailiff had finished, Mr Hargrave replied, "I have before given you my answer. I believe the marquis to be a just man. If he finds I have the right to continue in the farm, he would not wish to dispossess me. In regard to Dick, the provocation he received by having his dog killed would excuse any thoughtless words he might have uttered. So I cannot offer to give up my rights for fear of the consequences, and I will never believe that Lord Elverston would act as you suggest." "Then you dare to say that you doubt my word, Farmer Hargrave?" exclaimed the bailiff, in a tone of indignation, rising from his seat. "I'll give you until to-morrow to think over the matter; but you'll take the consequences if you have the same answer ready for me. And dame, I would advise you to persuade your husband to act as I recommend, or, whether you go out of the farm or not, that lad of yours, before many days are over, will be lodged in Winchester jail, and be sent to Botany Bay, if he doesn't get the chance of entering on board a king's ship. Perhaps they won't give him his choice, for threatening to shoot a lord is a serious matter." "Oh, Mr Gooch, you would not be so cruel as to wish to send our Dick to prison!" exclaimed Janet, who had been listening to what was said. "All your father has to do is to agree to what I propose, and he is safe enough," answered the bailiff. "I can stay no longer. I called in to give some friendly advice. If not taken, it is not my fault; so good night to all. I hope that you'll settle the matter between you!" Mr Gooch got up to go. Dick opened the door, having no wish to detain him. Looking out, he saw that the account given of the weather was not exaggerated. "Is is plaguey dark, Mr Gooch!" he observed. "You'd better take a lantern, sir." "No, no; I know my way as well in the dark as in the daylight," was the reply, and Mr Gooch stepping out, was soon lost to sight. No sooner was the door closed than Dick exclaimed, "Don't give in, father. I'd sooner go to prison, or Botany Bay, or be sent to sea, or be hung, for that matter, rather than that you should yield up your rights and be turned out of this farm." "I will not give up the farm if I have a right to keep it, but if the law is against me, go I must; still, I would not have you suffer, Dick, unless you deserve it, and if it is proved that you were poaching, and that you threatened to shoot the young lord, you must, as the bailiff says, take the consequences, though it would well-nigh break my heart to see you punished. But I have not much fear on the score either way. It is my belief that the marquis does not know much about the matter of the farm, and from beginning to end it is all the doing of Mr Gooch. What he cares for is to please his master, and as he knows that his lordship has a fancy for extending the park, he wants to get me to turn out, and now that he thinks he has got hold of you, he fancies that he can frighten me to do so. In regard to your affair, Dick, when the marquis hears of the provocation you received, I don't think he will be hard upon you." The farmer made these remarks to tranquillise as far as he could the mind of his wife. Perhaps he did not feel so confident himself. So Dick at all events thought. The family soon afterwards separated for the night. Dick went to his room, but could not sleep. The storm itself, though it whistled and howled around the cottage, would not have kept him awake. He thought over all that had happened, what he himself had said, and how Lord Reginald had looked and replied. "Whatever the gamekeeper may say, that other young fellow is against me, and if they take me before the magistrate, Mr Jackson will be upon his oath, and compelled to corroborate the midshipman's statement. It all depends on what they choose to do. There is no doubt I did threaten to shoot Lord Reginald, and I felt wonderfully inclined to do it, too. There's only one way I can see to get out of it and save father, and that is to take advantage of Ben Rudall's offer and to keep out of the way until the affair is blown over; I won't tell father or mother or they may be wishing to stop me; but I'll write a letter just to wish them and Janet good-bye for a short time, without saying where I am going, for that would spoil the whole thing. Ben says I shall like the life on board the lugger; so I shall, though I would not have gone if there had not been this good reason. I cannot fancy that either father or mother will be really sorry when they find that I am safe out of the way." So said Dick to himself, and having come to this resolution, he at length fell asleep. It was not a wise one, for it was like falling out of the frying-pan into the fire. There was a very remote risk of his being summoned before the magistrates, and if summoned, of his being committed for trial, whereas, in addition to the dangers of the sea, if captured on board the lugger, he would to a certainty be condemned as a smuggler and be sent to jail, if even worse did not come of it. For a lad to be sent to jail in those days was a fearful punishment, for there was no separation of prisoners, and should Dick go there he would be herded with ruffians of every description, and could scarcely fail to come out again without being very much the worse for his incarceration. Just then, however, he only thought how he could best keep out of the way of Mr Gooch, and thus prevent him from inducing his father to yield up his rights, which he might do, notwithstanding his resolutions to the contrary, should he be thus able to save his son from punishment. Dick awoke just as the light of the early dawn made its way into the room. The storm had ceased, and the clouds were fast disappearing, giving promises of a fine day. He had been a good penman at school, so that he had no difficulty in writing his letter. He had bade an affectionate good night to them all, and he would not run the risk of being hindered in his project by remaining for breakfast. His letter was brief. "Dear father," it ran, "don't give up the farm. I shall be all safe, though I don't want you or any one else to find me until the matter is settled, but I have made up my mind that they shall not make a cat's paw of me. Love to mother and Janet. So no more from your affectionate son, Dick." Leaving the letter on the table, with a bundle of clothes and a few other articles in his hand, he slipped silently downstairs, thankful to find that his father was not yet stirring. Filling his pocket with some bread and cheese from the larder, he hurried out by the back door, which was not likely to be opened for some time, and made his way by by-paths in the direction of Keyhaven. He felt, it must be confessed, somewhat like a culprit escaping from justice. Every now and then he looked back to ascertain if he was followed; then again he ran on. He wished, if possible, to avoid meeting any one who might question him as to where he was bound at that early hour. The labourers would be going to work, but a considerable portion of the country through which he passed was still uncultivated. Twice when he saw people coming, he turned aside and hid himself behind a hedge until the men had passed. He thus reached Ben Rudall's cottage, without, as he supposed, being seen by any one who knew him. Ben was not at home; but Susan asked him to come in and sit down. "He has been out nearly all night, Master Richard, but I am hoping to see him back safe every minute," she said. "He got notice that the _Nancy_ was standing in for the coast, and went out to lend a helping hand. I don't mind telling you, as I know that you are not one of those who side with the revenue people, or would go and give information--" "Which would injure any of my friends," put in Dick. "No, indeed, I would not. To say the truth, your husband promised me a trip on board the _Nancy_, which I have come to accept." "He'll be main glad, for he has agreed to go himself the next trip, and he told me that he thought the lugger would be away again to-night or to-morrow at furthest. She's not likely to be long away, though, and I don't mind his going as much as I used to do. Sometimes he has been from home for six weeks or two months at a time, either looking out for a cargo or waiting for a good chance to run across and land one on the English coast." Mrs Rudall did not hesitate to describe the doings of the smugglers to Dick, though she would have been wonderfully reticent to a stranger; yet she showed her anxiety by frequently going to the door and looking round the corner in the direction she expected her husband to appear. "Here he comes! here he comes!" she cried at length, and Ben, with a sou'wester on his head, a thick flushing coat on his back, and his legs encased in high boots, made his appearance. "All right, Susan!" he said, as he reached the cottage. "We've done the job neatly, and the goods are twenty miles inland by this time. We'd a famous night for it, couldn't have had a better, got the revenue men away on the wrong scent, and had the coast clear long enough to land a dozen cargoes. If we get such another night for the next run, we shall do well." "I am thankful," said poor Susan, who thought more of her husband's safety than probably of his share of the profits. "Now, come in; here's a visitor you'll be glad to see." Ben put out his hand and shook Dick's, but before asking questions he kissed his children, who came jumping up round him. "Now, let's have breakfast, for I am main hungry, and I dare say our friend here is," he exclaimed. "Have you taken my advice, and made up your mind for a trip on board the _Nancy_?" he asked, turning to Dick. Dick replied in the affirmative, and described the visit Mr Gooch had paid them the previous evening. "The sooner you get on board and out of his way the better, for they'll not think of looking for you there, and before to-morrow morning the _Nancy_ will be away again across the Channel," said Ben. Breakfast was just over, and Ben was smoking his pipe in front of his cottage door, when, looking to the southward, he exclaimed, "There she comes; she is a beauty!" and he pointed to a fine lugger, which, under all sail, having rounded Hurst Point, was standing towards Yarmouth. Ben having put up a few articles, led the way down to his boat, accompanied by Dick, and followed by his elder children, one carrying a boat-hook, another the oars, while he himself bore the boat's mast and sails on his broad shoulders. The children stood on the beach, watching them as they pulled away. The breeze being favourable, Ben soon stepped the mast and hoisted the sail, when he came aft with the mainsheet, and told Dick to steer. "You should never lose the chance of learning to be handy in a boat," he observed; "you don't know when it may come in useful. You are very well as it is, but you are not like one born to it. Howsumdever, you'll pick up something on board the _Nancy_, and we shall have you turning out a prime seaman one of these days." Dick really steered very well, and Ben every now and then gave him an approving nod. Being perfectly familiar with the surrounding scenery, he scarcely noticed it, occupied as his thoughts were just then by the position in which he was placed. Away to the right were the white Needle rocks, their pointed heads standing high up out of the sea, with chalky cliffs rising high above them; wide, smooth downs extending eastward; below which were cliffs of varied colour, with a succession of bays and rocky reefs; while ahead were the picturesque heights of Freshwater, covered by green trees, amid which several villas and cottages peeped out. Further east still, appeared the little seaport town of Yarmouth, with its old grey castle and grey stone houses, their gardens extending down to the water; on the starboard quarter was Hurst beach, with its massive round castle and tall, red lighthouse; while to the northward, extended a wood-covered shore, on which could be distinguished numerous residences, some of considerable size, and the town of Lymington running up the side of a steep hill. Ben was proud of his boat, though to the outward eye there was nothing to admire, as the paint with which she had once been bedecked had been worn off, her sails were patched, and her rigging knotted in several places. "I look at what she can do!" he observed; "and a better sea-boat or a faster is not to be found between Hurst and Spithead. It must blow a precious hard gale before I should be afraid to be out in her night or day." That she was fast was proved by the speed with which she ran across the Channel. In a short time she was alongside the lugger, which had brought up close in shore, her crew evidently fearless of the revenue men, two or three of whom stood watching her. All on board knew Ben, and gave him a hearty welcome. "I have brought a fresh hand, Jack!" he said, addressing the skipper in a familiar tone. "I have long promised him a trip, and as it happens, it is as well that he should keep out of the way of the big-wigs over there." Ben then briefly explained the danger Dick was in for threatening to shoot the son of the Marquis of Elverston. This announcement gained him a warm reception from the smugglers, who, engaged in lawless pursuits themselves, were naturally inclined to approve of such an act, and would possibly have looked upon him with still greater respect had he fired as he had threatened. "Glad to see you, my lad," said John Dore, putting out his hand. "Make yourself at home on board the _Nancy_. We'll give you work when work has to be done, and now, if you're tired, you can turn into my berth and go to sleep till the evening, when, unless the wind shifts round to the southward, we shall be at sea again." "The best thing you can do," observed Ben. "I must go to Keyhaven to get a hand to take my boat back and look after her while I am away." Dick, wishing to escape the notice of any one who might visit the lugger from the shore, accepted the skipper's offer. As he had closed his eyes but a very short time during the previous night, he was soon fast asleep. CHAPTER FOUR. UNDER WAY--LIFE ON BOARD THE NANCY--OFF THE FRENCH COAST--SHIPPING THE CONTRABAND GOODS--RUN FOR ENGLAND--A STRANGE SAIL--THE CHASE--ESCAPE OF THE LUGGER--LANDING THE CARGO--REVENUE OFFICERS--COOLNESS OF DORE--"YIELD, IN THE KING'S NAME."--A LITTLE TOO LATE--DICK QUESTIONED. When Dick awoke, he knew by the motion of the vessel and the sounds he heard that she was under way. The _Nancy_ was a craft of nearly a hundred tons, decked all over, with three short, stout masts, the after one leaning over the taffrail, with a long out-rigger. On each of the masts a large lug was carried, and above them could be set flying topsails, and when before the wind studding-sails could be rigged out. She could also hoist an enormous squaresail. To set these sails, she carried a numerous crew of tried seamen; promptitude and decision being required in the dangerous work in which she was engaged. Her armament consisted of six short guns and a long nine-pounder, which could be trained either fore or aft, to bring to a merchantman endeavouring to escape, or to knock away the spars of an enemy chasing her. Besides these guns, she had an ample supply of cutlasses, pistols, and boarding-pikes, to enable her crew to repel an attack made by boats or from a hostile craft which might run alongside her. She was truly an Arab of the seas, with every man's hand against her, and her hand against every man. The captain, by means best known to himself, had obtained a privateer's licence, and in that character he appeared when in English waters, though her real employment was more than suspected by the revenue officers, who were on the look-out to catch her. In this they had invariably failed, owing to the vigilance of her crew, and to the exact information they received from their agents on shore. Dick, turning out of the skipper's bunk, went on deck. He was greeted by Ben Rudall. "You are safe enough now, lad, from the constables who may be hunting for you through the country; and glad I am to have you on board the _Nancy_. When we get back you must remain stowed away until we are at sea again, and in a short time they'll get tired of looking for you." "I hope they won't revenge themselves on my father," said Dick; "that's what's troubling me now!" "No fear of that, for he is not answerable for what you do, any more than you are for his acts, and as he doesn't know where you are, he can't tell them." "I wish, however, that I could let mother and Janet know that I am all safe; they may be fretting for me," said Dick. "Never you fear, they'll guess that," said Ben, trying to set Dick's mind at ease on the subject. "It doesn't do to think about home or anything of that sort when we are out on a cruise. Cheer up, lad! cheer up!" A fresh breeze was blowing from the north-west. The stars were shining brightly out of a clear sky, and the lugger, close hauled, was passing the Needle rocks, which could be dimly seen rising out of the dark water like huge giants on the lee beam, while astern were visible the lights on Hurst point now brought into one. The lugger having rounded the western end of the Isle of Wight, the helm was put up, the yards squared away, the flying topsails and big squaresail set, and she stood across Channel, bounding lightly over the dancing seas. A craft with a fast pair of heels alone could have caught her. Her hardy crew remained on deck, for all hands might at any moment have been required for an emergency, either to shorten sail, or to alter her course, should a suspicious vessel appear in sight. All night long the lugger kept on her course, steering westward of south. "I say, Ben, how do the Frenchmen treat us if we go on shore, seeing that we and they are fighting each other?" asked Dick. "Never you fear; we shan't go on shore, except it may be at night, in company with friends. You will soon see how we manage things," was the answer. The lugger made such good way, that when morning dawned, the coast of France was seen close aboard. No vessels of any description were in sight. As she got closer in, the French flag was hoisted, and other flags were got ready for making signals. Dick heard the skipper talking to three men whom he had not before observed, and whom he now discovered to be Frenchmen. He asked Ben who they were. "One of them is to act as captain, the other two as his mates. They will go on shore and arrange about getting our cargo shipped. They won't take long, as it will be all ready. If we have another favourable night, we may run it, and it will be up in London before a week is over." A bright look-out was kept in every direction. As no suspicious sail appeared, the _Nancy_ stood on. The signal which she made was answered from the shore. "All right," said Ben; "no fear of interruption for the present." The topsails were lowered, and under the foresail and mizzen she glided on into a small harbour between rocks of sufficient height to hide her short masts from the view of any craft passing outside. The crew of the _Nancy_ appeared on deck, dressed as much as possible like French seamen, while they wisely kept their tongues quiet, so that their true character might not be suspected. The two Frenchmen went on shore, while the third remained on board to answer any questions which might be put to them. Dick observed that the lugger lay in such a position that she could easily slip out again, should danger threaten. The crew seemed perfectly at their ease, laughing and talking when below, as if their situation was one to which they were well accustomed. The day passed away; still no cargo was forthcoming, nor did the Frenchmen re-appear. This made Dick fear that the authorities might have discovered the true character of the _Nancy_, and in spite of their precautions the smugglers might be taken in a trap. He did not, however, express his apprehensions, and neither Ben nor any of the men appeared troubled on the subject. At night the crew lay down on the deck with their pistols in their belts, and their cutlasses and boarding-pikes by their sides, each man at his station so that the cable might be cut and the sails hoisted at a moment's notice. It showed Dick that his fears were not altogether without some foundation. Nothing, however, occurred during the night, and the following day passed away much as the first had done. Dore, however, grew impatient, and a boat was sent to watch outside the harbour in case any enemy might be stealing along the coast to prevent the _Nancy's_ escape. At length, some time after it grew dark, a boat came off from the shore, bringing the two Frenchmen, who reported that the cargo was ready and would shortly be on board. All hands stood prepared for hoisting it in. Several boats were quickly alongside, and with wonderful rapidity bales of silks, laces, and ribbons, and kegs of spirits and tobacco were transferred to the _Nancy's_ hold. As soon as they were stowed away, the anchor was got up, and the boats going ahead towed her out of the harbour, the Frenchmen wishing her "_Bon voyage_," and a speedy return. Dick breathed more freely when the sails were set, and the _Nancy_ gliding swiftly over the smooth water, the dark outline of the French coast grew more and more indistinct. "How soon shall we get back to England?" he asked of Ben, by whose side he naturally kept when on deck. "That depends on what may happen," answered Ben. "We shall have to wait for a dark night, and to take care that the coast is clear before we run in. It may be to-morrow, or it may be a week hence. We have done very well as yet, but there's many a slip between tin cup and the lip, as I have found to my cost more than once." Dick had to rest satisfied with this answer. There were plenty of people on board ready to talk to him, but their conversation was not of an improving character. Their chief delight seemed to be to abuse the royal navy as well as the revenue laws, and those engaged in preventing their infringement. Dick was not accustomed to look too deep into matters, and thought that what they said was very right. It did not occur to him that the same men would greatly have objected to free trade, which would completely have deprived them of their present illegal way of gaining a livelihood; and though there might have been some truth in what they said about the navy, they were wrong in the sweeping condemnation they pronounced against the service. There were some abuses still existing, but many had been removed; and there were not a few commanders of king's ships who did their best to advance the welfare of their crews, and were at all times kind and considerate to those placed under them, as had been shown by numerous instances of devotion on the part of the men to their officers. The remarks of his associates, however, gave Dick an unmitigated horror of the navy, while he learned to look upon smugglers as a much-injured body of men, who were unjustly interfered with while engaged in endeavouring to gain their daily bread. At length, growing sleepy, he was glad to go below and lie down on one of the lockers in the little after cabin. Next morning the lugger lay becalmed. While the breeze lasted, the smugglers had been in good humour, but as the watch below turned out, they swore and grumbled at finding their craft lying idle on the smooth surface of the ocean. No sail was in sight, and as long as the calm continued they could not come to harm; but an enemy might bring down a breeze which would enable her to get close up to them before their sails were filled. This was what they dreaded. All their seamanship and courage would not avail if she was a vessel too powerful for them to cope with. Hour after hour passed away, and still the _Nancy_ lay floating idly, and carried down Channel by the ebb tide, and swept up again by the flood. An anxious look-out was kept for signs of a coming breeze. Evening was approaching. From whatever quarter the wind might come, it might bring up an enemy. English or French were equally to be dreaded. The skipper paced the deck, making short turns, telescope in hand, every now and then sweeping the horizon with it, and casting an eye on the dog-vanes which hung unmoved by a breath of air. At last he kept his glass longer than usual turned to the eastward. "There's no doubt about it!" he exclaimed. "Those are the royals of a big ship of some sort; she's got a fresh breeze, too, or we shouldn't have risen them so fast above the horizon." Dick could only see a white spot on which the sun was shining, but it appeared to be increasing in size and growing higher and higher. The gaze of most of those on board were turned towards her. That she was either an English or a French cruiser was the general opinion. Some thought that she was a frigate, others a corvette; for no merchantman, at that period, would have come down Channel alone. One thing was certain, that she was steering directly for the lugger. "What chance have we of escaping her?" asked Dick of Ben. "Many a chance, lad," answered his friend. "If she's English she may not send a boat on board to examine us, and we shall pass for a privateer, or we may get the breeze in time to slip out of her way to the northward, or to keep ahead of her and give her the go-by during the night. If she's French, we must put the Frenchman in command, show our French papers, and bamboozle the mounseers, or if the worst comes to the worst, tumble the crew of their boat overboard and try to get away." "But suppose they fire into us?" said Dick, who though often thoughtless was alive to the true state of the case. "We must run the chance of that, my lad," answered Ben, "though my idea is that yonder craft is an English corvette, and although she may be a pretty fast sailer, when once the _Nancy_ gets the breeze, we shall show her a clean pair of heels." Dick sincerely hoped that such would be the case. He had not reckoned on the chance of being captured as a smuggler, or made prisoner by the enemy, or shot by either the one or the other. The crew were at their stations, ready to trim sails the moment the slightest breath of air should reach them. The topsails had before been set. The squaresail and studding-sails were got up ready to hoist at an instant's notice. Still the lugger lay motionless, and the corvette, for such she was pronounced to be, came rapidly on, under every stitch of canvas she could carry. She was soon within a mile of the lugger, when some cat's paws were seen playing over the water; the dog-vanes blew out and then dropped, the canvas flapped lightly against the masts. The skipper swore, and the crew swore, until once more they saw the sails bulging out slightly. "Hurrah! here it comes at last! We'll keep out of that fellow's way," cried Captain Dore, eyeing the stranger. The lugger began gathering way. "Port the helm, Tom. We'll stand to the northward, and shall soon see whether he wishes to speak us. If he does, we'll take leave to disappoint him." The yards were braced up on the starboard tack, and the lugger stood on the course proposed, so that the corvette, should she continue on as she was now steering, would pass astern. Dore kept his eye fixed on her. "She's a fancy to know more about us," he remarked, as he observed the stranger also keeping up to the northward. "Her shot can't reach us yet, and we shall soon see, now we have got the breeze, which is the faster craft of the two." As Dick looked over the starboard quarter, he saw the sails and dark hull of the corvette, lighted up by the rays of the setting sun, making her appear so much nearer than she really was, that he wondered she did not fire a shot to make the lugger heave to. He had no cowardly fears on the subject, but he again thought that he should have acted more wisely had he stowed himself away safely on shore, instead of coming on board the lugger. The corvette looked so powerful, that it seemed to him that a single broadside from her guns, would send the _Nancy_ with all on board to the bottom. He observed, however, that Dore walked the deck with as calm an air as usual, all the time, however, narrowly eyeing the king's ship, ready to take advantage of any change which might occur. "We shall have darkness down upon us soon, and then we will show yonder fellow a trick or two. He wants to jam us up against the English coast; but we are not to be so caught," he observed to his mate, Ned Langdon. The breeze had freshened considerably, and was now blowing so strong, that the lugger could, on a wind, with difficulty carry her topsails, which were still set. The corvette had handed her royals, presently she took in her topgallant sails. She had lately been gaining on the lugger. Dick, with the rest of his companions, seldom had his eyes off her; the darkness was increasing, and her outline was becoming less and less distinct. Presently he saw a bright flash dart from her bows, and the roar of a gun reached his ears. The shot, however, had fallen short. The smugglers laughed. "You may blaze away, but you won't do us much harm!" observed Dore. Another and another shot followed. The commander of the cruiser evidently wished to make the lugger heave to. If he had before had doubts of her character, he must now have been thoroughly satisfied as to what she was, and would become more eager to capture her. "Stand by, my lads, to make sail!" cried Dore. "Keep up the helm, Tom, and hoist away on the squaresail!" The lugger was put before the wind, running considerably faster than she had hitherto been doing through the water. The corvette must have observed her change of course, as she also kept away, and once more her topgallant sails were loosed. It was too dark to observe how the masts stood the pressure. "I only wish that they would set the royals; with this breeze there would be a good chance of the spars being carried away," said Dore. It was very doubtful whether the corvette was gaining on the lugger. Though the advancing night gradually shrouded her more and more in gloom, she could still be discerned, her canvas rising up like a dark phantom stalking over the ocean. The crew of the lugger stood at their stations, ready at a moment to obey their captain's orders. He kept his eye on the topsails, though if blown away the accident would not be of much consequence. The masts were tough, and bent like willow wands. "They'll hold on as long as we want them now," observed Dore. Again and again he looked astern. Presently he shouted, "Lower the topsails! Starboard the helm, Tom! Haul away at the starboard braces!" and the lugger, on the port tack, stood close hauled to the southward. The sharpest eyes on board were turned in the direction their pursuer was supposed to be. Some time passed away. "There she is!" cried Ben. "Although we see her, she doesn't see us, as we are stern on, and much lower in the water than she is." Dick looked with all his might. He could just discern some object moving along over the water, but so indistinctly that he could not be certain it was a ship. Still, the commander of the corvette might suspect that the lugger had changed her course, and changed his also. "All right!" cried Dore, after watching the phantom-like stranger in the distance, until she totally disappeared. "She'll not catch us this cruise." The lugger was put about, on the starboard tack, and once more stood towards the English coast. "Shall we be in to-morrow morning?" asked Dick. "No, no," answered Ben. "Whatever happens, we shall make the coast at night, when the revenue men can't see us. We have friends on the look-out, who will make signals to show us when and where to run in. The weather is too fine at present, so that we shall have to dodge about and wait for a dark night, with thick rain or fog; but we don't much trust fogs, they may lift suddenly and show our whereabouts to those we do not want to see us. However, we must run some risks. We want to land our goods in quiet, but if any one interferes with us, we of course must fight to defend our property. All right and square, you will understand, but if there's bloodshed, it is the fault of those who wish to take it from us." Dick did not ask himself whether Ben was right or wrong. He forgot that one party were breaking the laws, the other performing their duty in protecting them. Next morning, when Dick came on deck, he found the lugger hove to, with the blue line of the English coast to the northward. Though the shore could be seen, the vessel herself was too far off to be discerned from thence. Most of the crew were below, but the watch on deck, vigilant as ever, were turning their eyes in every direction, so that, should a suspicious sail appear, they might at once shape a course which would enable them to avoid her. Dick, who had been accustomed to an active life, began to grow weary at having nothing to do. He walked the deck with his hands in his pockets, talking to the men, or he sat below listening to their yarns, which were generally not of a very edifying character. The greater number of the crew passed their time, either sleeping or playing at cards or dice. Sometimes, for a change they turned to and cleaned their muskets and pistols, or burnished up their cutlasses. It was a relief when a stranger appeared whom it was thought better to avoid. The lugger making sail stood to the southward. She returned to her former position, however, as soon as the suspicious craft had passed. This occurred twice during the day. At night she stood close in to the coast, to look out for signals, but none were seen, and before the morning she again took up her former position at a sufficient distance to be invisible from the shore. For several days the same sort of proceeding took place. Two or three times she made all sail, it being supposed that she was chased, and once she had a narrow escape from a French cruiser, who probably took her for an English privateer. The wind continued moderate, and the sky clear, and Dore began to swear and to wish for some real honest Channel weather. At last the wind shifted, first to the southward and afterwards to the south-west, from which direction a thick bank of mist was seen coming up, and the lugger, directly she was shrouded by it, made sail for the English coast. Although there was no fear of her being seen from any distance, she still ran the risk of falling into the lion's jaws, to avoid which a sharp lookout was kept, and all hands stood ready to trim sails in case it should be necessary. The night was coming on, and it was soon dark enough to suit their requirements. She now frequently hove to, to sound as well as to watch for any signal from the shore. At length a light was seen, faint and dim through the mist, another was shown a short distance from it, and then a third appeared, when all three in an instant disappeared. The lugger stood on, sail was shortened, and the anchor dropped. Scarcely had she brought up when half a dozen boats dashed alongside. "Be smart, my lads!" cried Dore. "If we are quick about it, we may run the whole of the cargo before the revenue men are down upon us." Not another word was spoken; every one knew exactly what he had to do. The lugger's crew hoisted out the bales and kegs, and the men who had come off stowed them away in the boats. The lugger's own boat was not idle. Having loaded her, Ben and Dick, with three other men, jumped in and pushed for the shore. The surf was pretty heavy, but without accident they reached the beach, where a large party of people were collected, with a number of pack horses and carts. The boats were at once surrounded, and their cargoes quickly taken out of them and placed either in the carts or on the backs of the horses. The work was carried on with the greatest rapidity, and by the time Dick and his companions had launched their boat, the whole had begun to move off, and before the lugger was reached, not a single person was to be seen on the beach. On their return to the _Nancy_, the boat was hoisted in and preparations began for making sail. The operation required care, for should she cast the wrong way, she might drive on shore. The skipper himself took the helm. The hands went to their stations. The instant the anchor was away the sails were sheeted home, and the lugger, casting, as desired, to port, stood off from the dangerous coast, close-hauled. She had not got many cable lengths from the beach when two boats dashed alongside. A number of armed men sprang on board. "We've caught you, my fine fellows," exclaimed an officer. "Yield, in the king's name!" "Happy to see you, gentlemen," answered Dore, with the greatest coolness. "You are welcome to look over our craft, and if you find anything contraband on board--for that I suppose is what you are after-- we'll yield fast enough." The officer was evidently nonplussed, but he was still not inclined to take the smuggler's word. He allowed the lugger, however, to stand further out, until she could heave to with safety, when he ordered the foresail to be backed. He, with several of his men, then went below, Dore ordering Dick and another lad to carry a couple of lanterns, that the officer might see his way. The search, as Dore well knew would be the case, revealed nothing on which the revenue could lay hands--not a bale nor keg of spirits, nor even a few pounds of tobacco. "Circumstances certainly were suspicious. You have cleaned her out completely," said the officer, turning to Dick, and as he did so eyeing him narrowly. "Where was the cargo run?" Dick was very nearly replying, "Not long ago," and thus confessing that the cargo had been run, but recollecting in time that the smugglers might object to such an answer, he said-- "I am merely a passenger on board, sir, and it is not my business to answer questions." "What's your name, my lad?" asked the officer. Dick was on the point of replying, when Ben, who had heard the question, stepped up. "It is your business, Mr Lieutenant, to overhaul this craft and see that there are no smuggled goods on board, and when that business is over you have nothing more to do. That youngster's name may be Jack Robinson, or it may be Tom Jones, but whatever it may be is no business of yours." The officer put several questions to others of the crew, but neither from them nor from the captain could he elicit any of the information he required. They were perfectly civil to him, and offered not the slightest opposition to his going through every part of the vessel, and joked with the boats' crews, several recognising old shipmates. They shook hands, patted each other on the back, and appeared on the most friendly terms. Yet the case would have been very different had the _Nancy's_ cargo been on board. There would then have been a death struggle, the one to defend, the other to take possession of the craft, and they would have fought until one or the other had been defeated. "Well, Captain Dore," said the lieutenant, "you have been too smart for us this time, but we intend to catch you some day or other." "Maybe the _Nancy_ will be sunk by an enemy's cruiser before then. You seem to have an idea, lieutenant, that we are smugglers. I didn't think fit to gainsay you before, but if you'll step back into my cabin I'll show you my privateer's licence, which will prove to you that we are engaged lawfully, making war against the French trade," answered Dore. "Well, well, whichever you are, I won't longer detain you; but before I go I wish to have a word with the youngster I saw on board, the son of a respectable farmer living out Milford way." "We detain no one on board against his will, except he has signed articles. If the lad is the person you suppose, and is willing to go, go he may, provided you can promise that no harm can come to him." "I wish to prevent him getting into harm," said the lieutenant, and he sent one of his men to find Dick, who was soon afterwards brought aft. Dick was in two minds about going. When the lieutenant told him of the anxiety of his father and mother, he was on the point of accepting the offer. Just at that moment Ben stepped up. "You'd better not," he whispered, "for the officer may mean you well, but remember there are others who want to get you into their power, and you will repent it." "Thank you, sir," said Dick. "I have come on board this vessel of my own free will, and would rather stay where I am. If you will see father and mother, and tell them I am all right, I will be obliged to you." "You see, sir, that the lad doesn't want to go, and as you have found nothing on board to enable you to detain this vessel, I must beg you to let us make sail, for we are drifting in shore closer than is safe." Again the lieutenant appealed to Dick. Dore, however, suspected that if the lieutenant got him into his power he might induce him to come forward to prove that the _Nancy_ was engaged in smuggling, and that he should then be deprived of his privateer's licence, so, giving a hint to his men, they surrounded Dick and carried him forward. As the lieutenant had performed his duty, he ordered his men into the boats and they pulled away for the shore, while the _Nancy_ stood out to sea. CHAPTER FIVE. AT THE HALL--REFUSAL OF LORD REGINALD'S GIFT--LADY ELVERSTON AND HER DAUGHTERS--TROUBLES OF THE FARMER'S WIFE--PREPARATIONS FOR REJOINING THE WOLF--LIEUTENANT HILTON--INFORMATION RECEIVED OF AN INTENDED LANDING-- LORD REGINALD AND VOULES JOIN THE REVENUE PARTY--FIGHT WITH THE SMUGGLERS--SUCCESS OF THE KING'S PARTY--AN ENCOUNTER BETWEEN THE YOUNG LORD AND RICHARD HARGRAVE--DICK'S DEFENCE--LORD REGINALD HURT--ESCAPE OF THE FARMER'S SON--UNFAVOURABLE OPINION OF DICK AT THE HALL--THE MARQUIS AND VOULES--THE MIDSHIPMEN REJOIN THE WOLF. Lord Reginald and his messmate greatly enjoyed their stay at Elverston Hall. Parties of all sorts were got up for their amusement, and guests were invited to meet them--Voules taking good care to sing the praises of his friend. He employed his time, much to his own satisfaction, in paying court to Lady Elverston, and endeavouring guardedly to win his way into the good graces of the younger ladies. They were always ready to listen to him while he was talking of their brother, whose faults they either had not discovered, or were willing to overlook. To them, at all events, he was always affectionate and courteous, whatever he might be to others. The rest of the household were not altogether so well satisfied with his dictatorial, overbearing manners, though they acknowledged that he might be a very brave officer, who would some day prove an ornament to his profession; but the wish was general, if not expressed, that he would soon go off again to sea. Though still feeling angry with Dick for the impertinent and bold way in which he had spoken to him, he did not forget his promise to replace the dog he had shot; and as soon as he could find a suitable animal he despatched it by a groom to Farmer Hargrave's daughter, sending, at the same time, a note expressing his regret at the accident. It arrived just as Mr Gooch had left the cottage, and the interview the farmer had had with the bailiff had not been calculated to soothe his feelings. Mr Gooch had again threatened him with legal proceedings, and had accused him of sending his son out of the way to avoid the consequences of his misdeeds. Farmer Hargrave, of course, denied this, asserting that he did not know where his son was. He was standing at the door when the groom, leading the dog, arrived, and delivered his message from Lord Reginald. "Tell my lord that my daughter doesn't require a dog. None can replace the poor brute that was killed, of which she was very fond. So I beg you'll take it back, and say I am much obliged to him for his intentions," he said. "I don't think my lord will be well pleased to hear this, Farmer Hargrave," answered the man. "He thought he was doing your daughter a great honour in sending her a dog, but he didn't do it on account of your son, I've a fancy." "The very reason why I refused to receive the animal," answered the farmer. "I have nothing more to say; and the least said the soonest mended." "Am I to take this message, then?" asked the groom. "Yes; I have no other to send. Good day to you," said the farmer, turning round as if about to enter his house. The man led off the dog, observing to himself, "The young lord will be in a pretty way when he hears this; it won't be the better for the farmer or Master Dick. That young fellow will get into more trouble if he doesn't mend his manners." Lord Reginald, who had just returned with Voules from a ride, was standing in front of the house when the groom appeared, leading the dog. "I thought I ordered you to take that dog to Farmer Hargrave?" exclaimed the midshipman. "So I did, my lord, but Farmer Hargrave won't have him, and says he doesn't want any gifts from your lordship." "Impudent fellow!" observed Voules. "The father must be as great a barbarian as that precious son of his." "Did you give him my message properly?" asked Lord Reginald. "Yes, my lord, word for word, and I advised Farmer Hargrave to take the dog, but he would not on any account." "Then his daughter must go without the animal. I sent it to her, not to him," said Lord Reginald, turning to Voules. "This sort of thing is really provoking; the people about here are next door to savages. I was rather inclined to pity the old Hargraves on account of their blind daughter, but I shall persuade my father to do as Gooch advises. His house and barns are a great eyesore from the dining-room windows, and we shall be able to add several acres to the park if he could be removed." "Whether he is right or no, he ought, for the sake of pleasing the marquis, to be ready to give up his farm," said Voules, "and if he won't do so of his own accord, he should be compelled. I have no idea of the commonalty venturing to set themselves up against the aristocracy in the way they have done since the French Revolution." Lord Reginald had been induced by a right motive to send the dog, and the refusal of the farmer to receive it again raised his angry feelings against Dick. "If I come across the young fellow, I'll punish him for his own and his father's impertinence!" he exclaimed. The incident, slight as it may appear, prevented him for some days enjoying, as he might otherwise have done, the pleasures of home. Lady Elverston had fulfilled her promise of speaking to the marquis. "I would not, of course, act unjustly towards Hargrave," he answered; "but Gooch, who has consulted the lawyer, tells me that I have a perfect right to turn him out; besides which I have offered him an ample sum to go, but he has refused to receive the compensation, and insists on standing up for what he calls his rights. I, of course, cannot be thwarted by a man at my own gates, and have given authority to Gooch to proceed as he thinks necessary for my interests." "But we consider the farm-house, the stacks, and the buildings, picturesque objects in the distance, and we could not desire to have near us more respectable, worthy people than the Hargraves," urged Lady Elverston. "He is an obstinate fellow, and a Republican at heart, and will to a certainty vote against our son, should John stand for the next Parliament," answered the marquis. "However, I promise you I will act with perfect justice; but you could not wish me to submit to the insolence of a fellow of his description." Poor Lady Elverston, though not convinced that her husband was right, was unable to say anything more. She saw that he had been strongly biased against the farmer, and she was naturally displeased with the way his son had behaved to Lord Reginald. Her compassionate feelings for Janet, however, were not altered. In the afternoon, accompanied by Lady Julia, she took a drive in her pony carriage. In passing Farmer Hargrave's house she stopped to see Janet, wishing also to ascertain the reason for the objection Mr Hargrave had to giving up his farm, and hoping to induce him to yield with a good grace to the wishes of the marquis. The ladies found Janet and her mother seated in the parlour. A smile played over the countenance of the blind girl when she heard the voice of the marchioness. "Very kind, my lady, very kind in you to come and see us, and mother wants so much to talk to your ladyship about the matter of the farm," she said, after the ordinary inquiries had been made and answered. Lady Elverston was glad of this opportunity of entering on the subject, and she begged to hear what Mrs Hargrave had to say. "My husband, my lady, doesn't desire to oppose the wishes of the marquis, but as every Englishman should--as your ladyship will agree--he stands on his rights, and as he has a long lease of this property, which his fathers for many generations held before him, he refuses to be compelled to give it up. You see, my lady, Mr Gooch has been here and threatened that the law will force him if he refuses, and when my good man told him that the law could not compel him, the bailiff said that he would bring up our son Richard before the justices for threatening to shoot Lord Reginald, which I cannot believe he ever did, even though he was vexed at his lordship killing his dog. My husband, my lady, is a determined man, and neither I nor any one else can induce him to change his mind if he thinks he is doing what is right." "I certainly would not ask him to do what he thinks is wrong," said Lady Elverston, "and I am quite sure that the marquis did not give authority to Mr Gooch to use any threats. Lord Elverston told me this morning that he was willing to offer any reasonable compensation to your husband for quitting the farm, and he would probably give him ample time to find another equally suitable." "I was sure, my lady, that the marquis would not have allowed the bailiff to make use of the threats he did; and if you will speak again to his lordship and induce him to make a fair offer to my husband, though it would well-nigh break our hearts to move, I will try and get him to accept it." Lady Elverston, who suspected that the marquis had been deceived by Mr Gooch, promised again to speak to him; though well aware that he was as obstinate as the farmer, she did not say that she was certain of success. Lady Julia in the mean time was talking in her gentle way to Janet, and promised to call for her the first sunny day to take her out for a drive in the pony-carriage. Her ladyship then inquired for Dick, and expressed a hope that he would harbour no ill feelings towards her son. "I pray that he won't, my lady; he has ever been a good and faithful son to us, though somewhat headstrong at times, but he has not a revengeful spirit, and I am sure he would not wish to harm Lord Reginald. We are in sad trouble about him, for Mr Gooch frightened him so by his threats, that he has gone away, we don't know where." "Have you no clue to his hiding-place?" asked Lady Elverston. "I should much like to have some conversation with him, and I trust that I might soften any lingering ill feeling--should such exist in his breast-- towards my son." "I shall never forget your kindness, whatever happens, my lady," said Mrs Hargrave. After some further conversation, the marchioness took her departure, accompanied by Lady Julia, still, however, in considerable doubt whether she had done much to settle the vexed question. The time of the two midshipmen's stay at Elverston Hall was drawing to a close. Voules had received a letter from a messmate, saying that the _Wolf_ was nearly ready for sea. He flattered himself that he had not let the grass grow under his feet; that he had established himself in the good graces of Lord and Lady Elverston; and he had even the vanity to suppose that he had made some progress in those of Lady Julia. He was gentlemanly in his manners, and Lord Reginald always spoke of him as "a capital fellow," and seemed to regard him with affection. Lord Reginald himself, accustomed to an active life, was, however, beginning to grow somewhat tired of his stay on shore; though attached to his family, he was perfectly ready to go back to his ship. He had experienced, indeed, lately some difficulty in finding amusement for himself and companion. He and Voules had made the acquaintance of the lieutenant of the neighbouring coastguard station, who, having seen a great deal of service, and being a merry fellow, with a fund of anecdote, was an amusing companion. Lieutenant Hilton had several times been invited to dine at the hall, an honour he highly appreciated, although it cost him a long trudge there and back, over a somewhat wild region, with the risk of encountering some of the lawless characters of the neighbourhood, who looked upon him as their worst foe. He had one day been dining at the hall; the gentlemen having indulged freely in the bottle, as was too common in those times, were about to join the ladies in the drawing-room, when a servant entered to inform Lieutenant Hilton that a person wished to see him immediately on important business. "He has probably brought information that a run is to be made to-night, and if so, Hilton, we'll accompany you to see the fun," said Lord Reginald. "Don't go off without us, remember. We'll mount you, and we will ride together, with any one else who likes to come." Lieutenant Hilton hurried out to see the messenger. He returned to say that Lord Reginald was right in his conjectures, and that there was no time to be lost, as a suspicious lugger had been seen off the coast, and that as the night promised to be dark, there was no doubt she would try to run her cargo before the morning. The other gentlemen declined the proposed expedition, and Voules would gladly have remained behind, but he could not venture to allow Lord Reginald to go without him, especially as he himself had proposed assisting the revenue, should an opportunity occur. Very unwillingly, therefore, he went to his room to prepare for the ride, instead of passing the evening, as he had hoped, in the society of Lady Julia. The marquis, although he would rather his son had not undertaken what might prove a hazardous expedition, could not object, as he had expressed his resolution by every means in his power to put down the smugglers. The horses were soon ready, and the lieutenant and the two midshipmen, led by the mounted exciseman who had brought the information, set off by a road which would lead them to the westward of Milford. The excise officer informed the lieutenant that a messenger had been despatched to obtain the assistance of a party of dragoons stationed at Lymington, and that a small body of sea-fencibles, belonging to the district, were hurrying on towards the expected scene of action. With the aid of the lieutenant's own men, a sufficient force would thus, it was hoped, be collected to seize the goods should they be landed, while the boats on the station were despatched to try and capture the lugger herself before she had completely discharged her cargo. The exact spot where it was intended the lugger should run her cargo was unknown, but it was supposed that it would be somewhere between Hurst and Christchurch. The cliffs here are of considerable height, rising above a narrow beach, and, continually crumbling away, exhibit numerous fossil remains. In some places they are broken by narrow gullies, which, sloping up gradually from the shore to the downs above, afford easy pathways up which both men and loaded animals can climb without much difficulty. Since information had first been received of the intended run from a treacherous confederate of the smugglers, preparations for their capture had been carried on with the greatest possible secrecy and rapidity. It was important to prevent the smugglers' associates on shore from discovering that the revenue men were approaching. Lieutenant Hilton having reached his station, summoned eight of his own men to accompany him. Here the midshipmen were provided with pistols and cutlasses. Their services were likely to be of use, as it was certain the smugglers would muster in large numbers. The horses were left at the station, while the lieutenant and his party proceeded to the spot where the sea-fencibles were posted, waiting for any information they might receive to guide their future proceedings. It was in a hollow, surrounded by trees and brushwood, and about half a mile or so from the sea-shore. The night, as had been expected, was very dark, the wind a moderate breeze, blowing from the north-west. Not a word was spoken above a whisper, for fear lest their position should be discovered by any passing associates of the smugglers. The latter had given it out that the run was to be made on the other side of Christchurch head, and to induce them to suppose that this was believed, a party of revenue men had started off in that direction, taking care that their movements should be observed. It was hoped by this that the smugglers would be deceived, and would attempt the run at the spot named in the private information which had been received. "This is dull work!" whispered Voules to Lord Reginald. "I thought we should be up and doing long ago." "Dull enough! I vote we set off by ourselves, to try and find out what the smugglers are about," answered Lord Reginald. "I should recommend riding back to the hall, and letting our friends here follow their own devices," said Voules; "but it would not do, now that we have once put ourselves under Hilton's command, to desert him." Their patience was to be further tried. At last, one of the scouts who had been set to watch the direction taken by those who were sure to assist in the landing, came in with the intelligence that he had traced them midway between the hamlets of Barton and Ash, and that he had seen suspicious lights both on shore and at sea. The latter were, it was guessed, shown on board the lugger, which was exchanging signals with the spotsmen on shore, leaving little doubt as to where the goods would be run. As the distance to the spot was considerable, there was no time to be lost, for not only might the lugger's cargo be landed, but carried far away into the interior before the revenue men could get there. There was a danger, however, should they arrive too soon, of their being discovered by the smugglers, who would in that case put off to sea again and wait for a more favourable opportunity. The road followed by Lieutenant Hilton and his party led some distance from the shore. They proceeded as fast as they could move, forming a compact body, that they might run the less risk of being seen. The commander of the sea-fencibles arranged the plan of proceeding. He, with his men, would go to the westward, while the lieutenant was to attack the smugglers on the opposite side, and the excisemen were to guard the upper part of the hollow or gully which led down to the water, so as to catch any of the smugglers who might be making their way up it to escape. This plan was arranged as they went along. On reaching the neighbourhood of the spot, they halted, and scouts were sent out to ascertain if the smugglers had collected where they had been expected. In a short time the scouts returned, stating that a large body of men were on the beach, and one of them added that he had nearly been discovered by a party with pack animals proceeding down the gully which led to the same part of the shore. Lord Reginald was on the point of exhibiting his satisfaction by giving a loud shout, when Voules stopped him. "On my lads!" said the lieutenant in a low voice; and he led his men by a narrow path which wound down the cliff to the west of the village of Barton, while the rest of the party, by a wide circuit, made their way to the opposite side. It was agreed that Lieutenant Hilton should fire off a couple of pistols in rapid succession, as the signal for attacking the smugglers, and that both parties were to rush on them simultaneously, while the men at the top of the gully should stop them from making their escape in that direction. Lord Reginald was eager for the attack, but Voules, as he made out the numbers in which the smugglers mustered, heartily wished that he had remained to enjoy the society of the ladies at the hall. "We are likely to get more kicks than ha'pence, and little honour, at all events," he muttered to himself. From where they lay concealed, they could observe the boats coming on shore with the lugger's cargo. The lieutenant watched until he considered that the larger portion had been landed. He directed Lord Reginald and Voules, with three men, to guard the foot of a pathway leading up the cliff, by which possibly some of the smugglers might attempt to make their escape. The outlaws had been carrying on their undertaking in perfect silence. Not a sound had been heard, when the report of the two pistols echoed among the cliffs. It was the signal for a general uproar. The revenue men dashed forward from both sides towards the party on the beach, who began shouting and swearing vehemently. Then came the flash of firearms, and the clash of cutlasses. The smugglers fought desperately. Some were hurriedly loading the horses, hoping to escape with a portion of the goods by land, others were engaged in throwing the packages back into the boats, and endeavouring to shove off, and regain the lugger. The revenue officers, knowing that this would be attempted, rushed forward to prevent them. Here some of the hottest fighting took place. As they could not escape through the gully, no attempt was made to stop them from entering it. Before long, however, the smugglers discovered how they had been entrapped, when those who had gone off came running back with the disastrous intelligence. All attempts to save the goods were abandoned. Each man thought only how he could best make his escape. Some endeavoured to climb the cliffs, others rushed beneath them, to the westward. One party made a dash for the pathway guarded by Lord Reginald and Voules. So furious was their onslaught, that Voules was knocked over, and while their men had each an opponent, two other smugglers rushed past Lord Reginald. He fired, but whether his bullet took effect or not, he could not tell; by the flash, however, he thought that he recognised the features of Dick Hargrave, whose companion, wresting the young lord's sword from his grasp, dashed on up the path, and both were soon lost to sight in the darkness. Lord Reginald made a vain attempt to follow the fugitives, but, unable to see his way, was glad to rejoin his companions. "I know the young rascal, and have now proof positive that he is a smuggler!" he exclaimed. "Voules, did you see him?" But Voules, who had been lying on the sand where he had been thrown, some feet below, only just then began to recover. Several seconds elapsed before he was again able to take part in what was going forward. The other smugglers, who had tried to escape up the path, were secured. The fighting continued, however, for some time longer, till, one after the other, the smugglers were knocked down and captured, four being killed, and a large number wounded, while two of the revenue men lost their lives, and several others were severely hurt. Dore, with the few people still remaining on board the lugger, waited in the hopes of the boats getting off, but when they knew by their not returning that their friends must have been taken, the cable was cut, and the _Nancy_ stood out to sea. She had, however, proceeded but a short distance when two revenue boats dashed alongside, and her diminished crew, being unable to make any effectual resistance, she was captured, with the remainder of the contraband goods on board, more than sufficient to condemn her. Lieutenant Hilton was very well pleased with the result of the enterprise. Seldom had so large a capture been effected. He had, however, still a difficult task to perform, as he had scarcely men sufficient to guard the prisoners, whose desperate character he knew full well, while he had the additional duty of conducting the packhorses. The smugglers at first appeared to submit quietly enough, but that was no proof that they would continue to do so, should they find an opportunity of escaping. As there were not more than three lanterns among the whole party, it was difficult to ascertain whether the prisoners were properly secured. At any moment, they might break loose and effect their escape. They had, indeed, every motive for doing so. They had not only been captured smuggling, but had weapons in their hands, opposing the king's authority, and one and all of them might be tried for the death of the two revenue men who had fallen. All who had been taken were now brought together and placed under the cliffs, watched by a strong guard, while the bales and kegs, which lay scattered about in all directions, were collected and packed on the horses. The order to march was given. The pack animals went first, followed by the captured smugglers, who uttered curses, deep if not loud, on their hard fate. Then came the men told off to carry the wounded who were too much hurt to walk. Lord Reginald and Voules brought up the rear. The killed were left above high water mark on the beach, until a party could be sent to carry them to Barton churchyard, where the revenue man and smuggler were destined to lie side by side. The party at length reached the top of the cliff, and directed their course towards the high road running between Christchurch and Lymington. They had proceeded about a mile, when a number of armed men, springing out from behind the hedges on either side, suddenly attacked the conductors of the pack-horses, which they endeavoured to carry off. The prisoners, taking advantage of the confusion, attempted to escape, and there appeared every probability that some would succeed. "Cut down the fellows, if they try to get off!" cried Voules, and the other officers repeated the order. At that moment the clattering sound of horses' hoofs coming along the road was heard. A cry arose, "The dragoons are upon us!" The men who had made the last daring attempt to recover the goods took to flight. Two were captured by the soldiers, who went in pursuit, but the rest effected their escape. Mr Hilton gladly handed over the prisoners to the charge of the military, while he accompanied Lord Reginald and Voules back to the station where they had left their horses. "I wish that you would remain here until the morning," said the lieutenant, when they reached it. "There are a number of rough characters allied with the smugglers, who, should they fall in with you, may take it into their heads to revenge themselves by shooting you." "I am not afraid of them," answered the young lord. "Voules and I together are able to tackle a dozen such fellows. Thank you for your invitation, but our friends at the hall will be anxious to know what has happened, and I want to tell my father how admirably you have managed affairs." The lieutenant, finding that the midshipmen could not be induced to remain, ordered the horses to be brought out, and Lord Reginald, saying that he would the next morning send a groom for the animal the lieutenant had ridden, being well acquainted with the way, set off with Voules for the hall. "As there is no fear of our losing the road, even in the dark, we may as well take a short cut," he observed, after they had gone some distance. "We shall save a mile or more, and have the advantage of turf. The moon, too, will soon be up, and we shall be able to gallop a good part of the distance." Voules had nothing to say against this proposal, though he would have preferred the high road. "This lane will lead us on to the heath, and as the sky is clear, there will be light enough, even before the moon rises, besides which our horses know the way as well as I do," said Lord Reginald. They rode down the lane at a more steady pace than they had hitherto been going, for it was full of ruts, and somewhat narrow and winding. It conducted them on to a wild heath, beyond which could be discerned the outskirts of the New Forest, the trees in some places projecting over the heath like the advance guard of an army, while in others wild glades opened out extending far into the interior. Towards one of these glades Lord Reginald directed his course. "By keeping a little to the right it will lead us to the high road again," he observed. "There's the moon just rising above the trees. We shall be able to push along now, without fear of rushing into a hedge." Crossing the heath by a tolerably well-defined footpath, they entered the forest, and were galloping along a grassy glade, on which their horses' hoofs produced scarcely a sound, when Lord Reginald uttered an exclamation of surprise. "Halloa! I see a fellow ahead. Where can he be going?" "Probably one of the smugglers, who managed to make his escape," answered Voules. "Whoever he is, we will stop him and ascertain why he is out at this time of night. Stop, you fellow!" cried Lord Reginald; "we want to speak to you." The person, who apparently had not before heard them coming, only increased his pace; on seeing which the young lord spurred on his horse. The stranger, who might possibly have escaped by darting in among the trees, instead of making the attempt, finding that his pursuers were gaining on him, stopped and faced them, holding a thick stick, which might properly have been called a club, in his hand. "Throw down that bludgeon and come here," said Lord Reginald. "Not while I am spoken to in that tone," answered the stranger. "I have as much right to be out in this forest as you have." "You must tell us who you are, and where you are going!" cried Lord Reginald, riding up to him. The stranger lifted up his club, exclaiming, "Hands off! If you attempt to touch me, you must take the consequences." Just then a gleam of light from the rising moon shone on the stranger's face. "I know the rascal!" cried Lord Reginald; "it's that young Hargrave. Not the first time we have met tonight. You are one of the fellows who made their escape from the excisemen; but you are not going to do so from us; so yield at once! Come, help me, Voules!" and the young lord, spurring forward his horse, attempted to seize Dick by the shoulder. The latter sprang back, and, whirling round his club, struck Lord Reginald a blow on the arm which effectually prevented him from using it, and before Voules could lay hold of him, Dick had rushed off among the trees, which quickly concealed him from view. In vain Lord Reginald, in spite of the pain he was suffering, urged his horse after him. The stems of the trees, growing thickly together, prevented him from following, and Dick was soon safe beyond the pursuit of the horsemen. "This is provoking; but we will have him yet!" cried Lord Reginald. "I am afraid the villain has broken your arm!" exclaimed Voules. "It seems something like it from the pain I am suffering," answered Lord Reginald; "however, the sooner we can get home to have it looked to the better." "Yes, indeed," said Voules; "I am deeply grieved. I would have shot the young savage had I thought he would have had the audacity to strike you." "No, no; I should have been sorry if the fellow had been killed," said Lord Reginald. "All I wanted was to take him prisoner, and send him off with the rest to sea, for I suppose that will be the lot of all who are fit to serve. However, as we are not likely to see more of him for the present, I shall be glad to get home. This arm of mine hurts me fearfully." They again put their horses into a gallop, and continued on until they reached the end of the glade, which led out on the high road. Lord Reginald bore the pain manfully; indeed, it was surprising that he did not faint and fall from his horse. The trotting along the road was even worse than the gallop, and at last he had to tell Voules to stop and walk. It was nearly two o'clock in the morning when they reached the hall. They found Lord and Lady Elverston, with Lord John, sitting up for them. "Most thankful to see you back," said Lord Elverston, who came out to meet them; "we were too anxious to go to bed. One of the grooms had brought word that there had been a desperate fight between the revenue men and the smugglers, and that there had been a number of killed and wounded. Good Heavens! what is the matter? You look very pale. Are you hurt?" "Yes, but not in the fight," answered Reginald, as he entered the drawing-room and sank into a chair. He then described the encounter with Richard Hargrave. "The young ruffian must be punished," exclaimed the marquis. "It is evident that he is leagued with the smugglers, and this last outrage shows his desperate character. Do you feel much pain?" "Very much; indeed, I fear that my arm is broken," answered Lord Reginald. On hearing this Lady Elverston came to his side. "My dear boy, I trust not," she said; "you must go to bed, and let Mrs Cross and me examine your arm." "If it is broken we must send off for a surgeon immediately," said the marquis. "I would rather have some supper first. I dare say so would Voules, for we both of us felt very hungry as we came along, and I hope after all, no bone is broken." The tray was at once brought up, and though Voules did ample justice to the viands it contained, Lord Reginald, after making several ineffectual attempts to eat, had to confess that the pain overpowered him, and he allowed himself to be led off to his room by his mother and brother. Mrs Cross, the housekeeper, was soon in attendance, having evidently, by the way her dress was put on, with her night-cap on her head, just risen from her slumbers. The young lord was quickly undressed, when, on his arm being examined, Mrs Cross declared it as her opinion that no bone was broken; and all that was required were fomentations and rest. "I am sorry to hear so bad a character of young Hargrave. His mother and blind sister are at all events good people, and it will grieve them sorely," observed Lady Elverston to her husband, who answered only with the significant exclamation of-- "Humph! Perhaps so." The pain was somewhat relieved by the fomentations applied by the housekeeper, who offered to sit up with the young lord; and though he declared that he should do very well without assistance, he was glad at length to accept her offer. Voules came in just before going to bed, to express his deep concern. "I shall do very well in a day or two," said Lord Reginald, "and it won't prevent me from joining my ship." Notwithstanding his assertion, he was very feverish during the night, when he was constantly uttering expressions which showed the animosity he felt against Dick Hargrave, complaining that he was the cause of the pain he was enduring. This was reported the next morning by Mrs Cross to the marchioness. "It is a shame, my lady, that so bad a lad should be allowed to be at large. I hope my lord will have him taken up and sent off to Botany Bay, or anywhere out of the way, for if he meets Lord Reginald again, I don't know what will come of it." Next morning the doctor, who had been sent for, arrived, and greatly relieved the minds of Lord and Lady Elverston by assuring them that their son's arm was not broken. "No thanks to the young ruffian who inflicted the blow," observed the marquis; "we must have him apprehended, for such an outrage must not be allowed to go unpunished." The doctor directed Lord Reginald's arm to be fomented, and observed that he must carry it for a few days in a sling, assuring him that he need not fear any serious consequences. "Then it will not prevent him from joining his ship?" observed the marquis, who had his reasons for wishing that the midshipmen should not remain longer at Elverston. "Not if he can perform his duty without going aloft, or using his arm for the present," replied the doctor. Lord Elverston said he would write to the captain on the subject. "In that case his lordship may join his ship immediately," observed the doctor, who seemed to understand the marquis's wishes. Voules, who had been present during the discussion, was far from satisfied with the doctor's decision. He had hoped that the injury Lord Reginald had received would serve him as an excuse for remaining until the frigate was on the point of sailing, as he himself was in no hurry to leave Elverston Hall. The marquis, however, had observed his attentions to Lady Julia, and although he gave his daughter credit for discretion, he thought it was as well to send the young gentleman away. Having a pretty good knowledge of the world, he had taken the measure of Toady Voules more accurately than his son had done, and had seen through him. When Lord Reginald, faithful to his promise, had begged his father to use his influence at the Admiralty to get Voules promoted, the marquis replied that he should be happy to serve any friend of his, but for certain reasons he could make no promise, and that he must know more about the young gentleman before he could recommend him to their lordships. "But he is really a capital fellow," said Lord Reginald. "He sticks like a leech to me, and I can always depend upon him." "Leeches suck blood," answered the marquis, laughing. "I don't think you have well considered the simile." "I mean that he is always ready at hand when I want him to do anything I require," answered Lord Reginald. "He is the most convenient fellow I ever met." "Well, well, I will remember your wishes," said the marquis. Lord Reginald saw that he must not press the point further. Voules looked very melancholy at the thought of leaving Elverston. He was in an especially bad humour too, for though Lady Julia treated him as she had always done, he began to suspect that he had made no great way in her good graces. The utter indifference she showed when he talked of going away, convinced him of this, and although to the last the family treated him, as Lord Reginald's friend, with the utmost kindness, no one expressed the hope that they might soon again have the pleasure of seeing him. A couple of days having passed, the midshipmen were ready to obey the order to rejoin their ship. A Yarmouth pilot vessel having been engaged to convey them to Portsmouth, they set sail in her from Keyhaven. Taking a favourable tide, with a fair wind, they might easily get there in six hours, whereas the journey by land would have occupied nearly a couple of days. The crew of the pilot vessel, as they stepped on board, looked at the midshipmen askance, evidently having heard of the part they had taken in the capture of the smugglers, many of whom were their relatives and friends. The captain, however, treated them with the greatest civility, but took good care not to answer any questions they put to him concerning the smugglers, leaving them to suppose that he was ignorant of the existence of such persons, and was not even aware that there was any smuggling on that coast. Of Dick Hargrave nothing had been heard, but a warrant had been taken out for his apprehension, and people were on the watch to capture him should he make his appearance, or should his place of concealment be discovered. A fresh breeze quickly carrying the cutter up to Portsmouth, Lord Reginald and Voules once more found themselves on board the _Wolf_, which had hauled away from the dockyard, ready to go out to Spithead. CHAPTER SIX. THE SECOND TRIP OF THE NANCY--PARTICULARS OF THE LANDING--HOW IT FARED WITH DICK AND BEN--WANDERING IN THE FOREST--IN HIDING--NEARLY CAUGHT-- SEIZED BY A PRESSGANG--KINDNESS OF THE LANDLADY AT THE ADMIRAL BENBOW-- BEN RUDALL A PRISONER--ON BOARD THE TENDER--OFF COWES--THE WOLF--MR BITTS, THE BOATSWAIN--DICK RECOGNISES LORD REGINALD AND VOULES--AN ATTEMPT TO MAKE AN EXCHANGE. When Dick Hargrave sailed the second time on board the _Nancy_, he forgot the saying that "the pitcher which goes often to the well gets broken at last," or that few who follow a lawless occupation escape from suffering in the end. Of course, he should have been influenced by a far higher motive, but he had not been taught to look upon smuggling in the same light which an honest man does nowadays. Even his father regarded it with a lenient eye, though he had ever refused to take a share in the proceedings of the smugglers by permitting his horses to be used in transporting the goods when landed on the coast. Dick had a tolerably pleasant life on board the _Nancy_, as Dore and the crew always treated him kindly. The lugger, as before, ran into the quiet little harbour in which she was wont to take her goods on board, and had a narrow escape from a French cruiser; but had got free by the very common device of lowering all her canvas during the night and allowing her pursuer to pass her. Without further cause for alarm, she made the English coast. Dick, though he liked the life well enough, had no wish to continue in it; he wanted to see his parents and Janet, and to relieve their anxiety about him. He had resolved, therefore, to quit the _Nancy_, and to go on shore with Ben, who did not intend to make the next trip in her. It was settled, therefore, that he and Ben were to pull in one of the boats engaged in landing the cargo, and that afterwards they were to assist in escorting the goods safe into the interior. After they had once got away from the coast, there was but little danger of their being captured. "All right," said Ben to Dick, as the lugger stood in to the westward of the Shingles; "the revenue men have been told that there is to be a run made this very night, Portland way, and they will all have gone off there and left the coast clear for us, so that there is no fear as to our getting the goods safe on shore." There seemed every probability that Ben's prognostications would prove true. The night was dark, and the wind sufficiently off shore to enable the _Nancy_ to stand close in. The expected signals were seen. The anchor was dropped, the boats lowered, and immediately afterwards, others came off from the shore, bringing the satisfactory intelligence that everything was clear for the run. The vessel was rapidly unloaded. The greater part of her cargo had been discharged, and was already on the beach, when the reports of Lieutenant Hilton's pistols were heard, and the smugglers found themselves beset on both sides by their enemies. Dick and Ben were already on shore, and were engaged in loading the packhorses. "You get out of it, Dick," said Ben, "either climb the cliff or run along the beach; you've nothing to fight for." Dick hesitated; he felt that it would be cowardly to desert his companions. Ben, though not thus influenced, suspected his motive. "Come, lad," he said; "there's a path not far from this, and the chances are there is no one to stop us going up it; I'll show thee the way." Saying this, he dashed forward quickly, followed by Dick. He was disappointed in one respect--the path was guarded, but knocking over the first person who opposed him, who happened to be Mr Voules, and wrenching the cutlass out of Lord Reginald's hand, he dashed on. Dick, who kept close behind him, had a narrow escape of being shot, and felt pretty sure that Lord Reginald, whom he recognised, had seen him. Continuing on a short time, they were satisfied that they were not pursued, and might proceed homewards with little risk of further interruption. Still, Ben could not resist the temptation of trying to ascertain the fate of his companions. It appeared to him that they had been attacked by a comparatively small party, and that could a number of determined men be collected, they might effect a rescue. He and Dick made their way, therefore, to a farm-house, in which it had been arranged that the heavier part of the goods should be stowed, until they could be conveyed away to a distance. Here he found several persons, to whom he gave the first intelligence of the disaster. They instantly hurried off to collect other men from all directions. As it was well known what road the party with the captured goods would take, they intended to form an ambush to surprise them, but the smugglers, not having time to do this, made their attack in a less favourable position, with the result which has been seen. Dick again escaped, but what became of Ben he could not tell, though he hoped that he also had got off. Much as he had wished to see his father and mother, he now almost dreaded to meet them. His intention was to reach home by daybreak, and having seen them again to go off and hide himself in a woodman's hut in the forest, or in some other place, where he could remain until the search after him had ceased. It was not likely indeed, that much trouble would be taken, unless Mr Gooch, for the sake of influencing his father, tried to get him into his power. With this intention he was making his way towards home, his thoughts so occupied that he did not hear the approach of Lord Reginald and Voules until they were close upon him. He would gladly have avoided an encounter, but at the same time he determined not to be taken prisoner when he saw that such was the young lord's intention. What happened has been described. On escaping from Lord Reginald, he soon reached a thick bush, behind which he could conceal himself with little chance of being discovered. He there lay perfectly quiet until he heard the two horsemen ride off. "I am thankful I had not my gun with me, or I might have been tempted to use it," he said to himself. "Why should that young lord persecute me? He had no business to come and help the revenue men, and it could do him and that other fellow no good to make me a prisoner, except to boast of what they had done. If I go home now they will accuse poor father and mother of harbouring me, and I shall bring them into trouble. I wonder, after all, if Ben got off. If I thought that he did, I'd go to his cottage. He would hide me there until these two fellows have gone back to their ship, and the rest have got tired of looking for me. If poor Janet could see, I'd go home and let her alone know that I had come, and she would hide me away. As she can't help me, poor girl! I don't know what to do." Such were some of Dick's meditations. Overcome with fatigue, he lay down to rest a little, and, as was very natural, fell fast asleep. When he awoke it was broad daylight. It would not now do to venture down to Keyhaven. He would too probably meet some of the revenue men, who would to a certainty capture him. Home he dared not go; his only alternative was to remain in the forest until the return of night, when he could traverse the country with less risk of encountering any one. He was very hungry, but he was equally afraid of going to any cottage to beg for a crust, lest he should be recognised. Not far off was a pool, of which there were many in the forest, where he quenched his thirst. Hips and haws were now ripe, there were plenty around could, he eat enough to satisfy the cravings of hunger. There were tench, too, in some of the pools--fine, fat fish, which he might catch, as they lay under the bank, with his hands, but he had no means of lighting a fire to cook them. He walked about listening, lest he might be surprised by any one coming; then, growing weary, he again sat down under his bush. He was very hungry and very unhappy. Sometimes he thought he would go home in spite of the risk he would run, and try to see his mother alone. He might easily hide in one of the out-buildings, and steal in when his father had left the house, but then, knowing that he had been recognised by Lord Reginald, who would, he supposed, inform against him, he feared that he might be discovered by those who would be sent to search for him, though his mother, he felt sure, would do her best to conceal him. "I had better not," he said to himself; "it shall only get father and mother into trouble; if they don't know where I am, they cannot say. I'll go down to Susan Rudall's; she'll stow me away, if I can reach her cottage without being seen. No one will think of looking for me there." Dick, when on board the lugger, had been rigged out thoroughly as a young sailor. The dress, as he thought, was a sufficient disguise, should he meet any one in the gloom of the evening. His hunger made him very eager to reach Susan's as soon as possible. Soon after the sun had set, therefore, he started for Keyhaven, going along by the by-paths, and keeping himself concealed as much as possible among the trees and brushwood. He calculated that it would be perfectly dark by the time he got to the village, and that he might enter Susan's cottage without being perceived. For some time, meeting no one, he became bolder, and made his way along the lanes with less caution than he had before used. He had just turned an angle of the road, when he saw in the distance several persons coming towards him. He darted back, hoping that he had not been seen, and, getting through a hedge, he lay down in a dry ditch. Though perfectly concealed, he was almost afraid to breathe, lest he might be heard by the people passing. They had been too far off when first seen to enable him to ascertain who they were, and he dared not look through the hedge, lest they should perceive him. His heart beat quickly as he heard their footsteps approaching; he felt like a criminal escaping from justice. Though constitutionally brave, the consciousness that he had acted wrongly in many respects made him a coward. The men were only, as far as he could judge, labourers returning home after their day's work. He heard them talking of the attempted run of contraband goods, the capture of the _Nancy_ and her crew, as well as of the number of people assisting in the landing who had been taken. "It will go hard with some of them," observed one of the speakers; "they'll bring it in `murder,' maybe, as two of the king's officers were killed, if they can prove who fired the shots. Whether of not, Botany Bay is the best they can expect, and many a year before they can see their wives and families again." "A reward is offered for catching the chaps who escaped," said another. What more was said Dick could not hear; he was thankful that he had not been seen by the men, or they would probably have detained him for the sake of the reward. He waited until they had got some distance, and then, creeping along the hedge, he again got into the lane, and ran on as before, looking out ahead so that he might not come suddenly on any other persons. Hungry and tired, he at length got close to Keyhaven. To pass through the village without being seen would be difficult. He heard voices, as if people were still about, and lights shone in the windows of the cottages in sight. Had he not been so hungry, he would have again hidden under a hedge until later in the evening; but eager to obtain something to eat, he hurried on, hoping by good chance to reach Susan's cottage without being observed. He was passing the Rodney's Head, when several persons issued from the door. "Hullo! make that fellow heave to, and see who he is," said a voice; and two men came rushing after him. The words made Dick start off as fast as his legs would carry him. The men, however, followed. He might still, he hoped, escape, and reach Susan's cottage. It was before him, but should he be seen to enter, it would afford him no shelter. If he could get round it, however, he might double back, making his way along on the other side of the village. He was unusually weak from long fasting, and found his strength failing him. His foot struck against a piece of an anchor fast in the ground, and down he fell. Before he could rise his pursuers were upon him. "You made a good run for it, my lad, but you are caught notwithstanding," said one of the men. "No use in kicking up a shindy, so come along with us and make the best of it, as many another lad has done." "Who are you? What are you going to do with me?" asked Dick. "We are men-of-war's men, and are going to make you serve his Majesty, as we are doing," was the answer, as Dick was led back to the village inn. "Won't you let me go and see my friends first, or let me send them a message to say where I am gone?" The men laughed. "You can send a message when you are safe on board the tender. You'll be sent off there presently, with a few other fine fellows we have laid hands on. Don't be cast down, lad, you'll like the service well enough when you get into our ways; and if you don't, like many others, you'll have to grin and bear it." Dick made no answer; he was in for it, and it was useless to complain. The disappointment, however, did not take away his appetite. He quickly felt his hunger pressing him as at first. "I wish that you'd let me have a crust of bread and a piece of cheese, for I have not put anything into my mouth for many a long hour." "Mrs Simmons will soon find that for you, and a glass of ale, too, my lad," answered the seaman. "Maybe, if you've no shiners in your pocket, you'll find some friend inside who will treat you." On reaching the inn door, Dick saw a large party of seamen under an officer who had just mustered them outside, while several remained within, guarding persons with handcuffs on their wrists and seated on the benches. Two or three of them looked very disconsolate, but the rest were endeavouring to keep up their spirits by laughing and joking and talking to each other, or with their captors. Among the former, Dick, to his sorrow, saw his friend Ben Rudall, who, however, did not appear to recognise him. The landlady looked far from pleased at the guests she was compelled to entertain. Dick caught her eye. "Do give me something to eat, Mrs Simmons!" he exclaimed. "I'm pretty nigh starved." "Bless me, Richard Hargrave! is that you? You shall have what little I have in the house; but it will be a sad night to those at home when they hear that you are taken." "I wish that you'd send up and tell them, and get it broken gently to my mother and Janet," said Dick, as Mrs Simmons placed bread and cheese, and a piece of cold bacon before him, with a mug of ale. "Be smart, my lad, and stow that food away," said the seaman, who stood by with a pair of handcuffs. "You'll get some breakfast on board the tender to-morrow morning." "Maybe; but I should be starved to death before to-morrow morning, if you don't let me eat this," answered Dick, munching away with all his might. He had never eaten so fast, for he expected every moment that the seaman would lose patience and clap the handcuffs on him. He was allowed, however, to swallow the contents of the plate as well as the ale. "I'll pay you, Mrs Simmons, some day when I come back; and thank you in the mean time," said Dick, when he had finished his hasty meal. "You are welcome to it, my boy," said the landlady, "and who knows but that you'll one day come back a captain." The sailor laughed as he clapped the handcuffs on Dick's wrists. Directly afterwards the officer ordered the prisoners to be brought out, as the boat had arrived from the tender to carry them on board. Ben Rudall, who had hitherto been silent, finding that he was at once to be carried off, rose to his feet and lifting up his manacled hands addressed the officer, "It is hard lines for me, sir, to be dragged away from my wife and family, without so much as saying good-bye to them. They live not many doors off, down the lane; won't you just let me go down and kiss the children? Maybe you are a father yourself, and you wouldn't like to be carried away from your young ones without saying a few last words to cheer them up." "It can't be done, my man," answered the officer, turning away. "If I grant you the favour, all the rest will be wanting to go and wish their wives and children farewell, and a fine account I should have to give of them! Bring the prisoners along!" he shouted to the seamen. "You'll tell poor Susan what has happened," said Ben, as he passed the landlady. "Tell her to keep up her spirits. I'll be back home as soon as I can." "Trust me, Ben," said kind-hearted Mrs Simmons; "I'll see your wife to-morrow morning, and tell her what you say." The officer, losing patience, ordered his party to move on. The men-of-war's men kept close around their captives, who would, they knew, attempt to escape if there was the slightest chance of their doing so, or they thought it possible that the smugglers' associates might endeavour to rescue them. The boat, however, was reached without any attempt of the sort being made, and the prisoners were compelled to step on board. Some of the more daring resisted, hoping that perhaps even then assistance might come to them, but a seaman's pistol held at the heads of the refractory ones compelled them to obey, and in another minute they were all seated in the boat, which at once pulled away for the tender. Dick found himself seated next to Ben. "A bad job this, my boy; I never thought you and I should be hauled away like this," whispered Ben. "If they hadn't put our wrists in irons we'd be overboard and soon stowed away where they wouldn't find us in a hurry." Dick did not say he thought that it was owing to Ben he was brought into his present condition. He merely answered, "I wouldn't try to escape if I could. If a man-of-war is as bad as you say, I shall be dead in a short time, and it won't much matter to any one." "Silence there, men!" shouted the officer, who overheard Ben and Dick talking. "Give way, lads!" The boat was soon alongside the tender, a large cutter, which lay off the mouth of the creek. The captured men were compelled to mount her side, two stout fellows standing by to lift them up by the collars of their jackets, as they were unable to use their hands, when they were at once sent down into the hold of the vessel, over which a sentry with a loaded musket kept guard. It was a large, gloomy place, lighted by a single ship's lantern, which hung from one of the beams. Dick could see that it already contained about twenty people, most of them rough, seafaring men, seated with their backs against the side, or stretched on the deck. Some were talking in low, grave tones, others were endeavouring to forget themselves in sleep. A few looked up and nodded as they recognised acquaintances, but not many words were exchanged between them. Dick saw several persons whom he knew, but the greater number had been captured by the pressgang on other parts of the coast. Dick, though no longer hungry, was very tired, and seeing a vacant spot, threw himself down with his back against the after bulkhead. "I have found out all about it," said Ben, who some time afterwards seated himself by his side. "It is all owing to that young lord and his father. The marquis, I hear, wrote over to Portsmouth some time ago to have this pressgang sent down here to make a clean sweep of all the seafaring men they could lay hands on. If they had come a few days sooner, they would have stopped the _Nancy_ from attempting the run, and we should have got off again; but as ill luck would have it, they arrived just in time to catch us, and the other poor fellows who had come on shore. I wish that I could lay hands on that Lord Reginald; I'd pay him off." "Little chance of that," observed Dick; "he'll soon be safe on board the _Wolf_, and we shall be sent off, maybe, in some ship to the other end of the world. I don't care where I go; but it seems to me what we have now to do is to make the best of it. I have been thinking over the matter since I have been staying here, and of course, as the king wants men to fight his battles, and as it is my luck, good or bad, to become one of them, I'll do my best and try to keep clear of the cat-o'-nine-tails which you used to tell me about." "You'll be precious lucky if you are able to do that, my lad," growled Ben. "Howsumdever, as we're in for it, I don't want to make you think things are worse than they are. You'll soon find out what's what." "I suppose I shall," answered Dick, who was becoming very sleepy, and in spite of the noises going on around him--the loud talking--the tramping of feet overhead--the movement of the vessel, which had got under way, and his uncomfortable position, he was soon in happy forgetfulness of all his troubles. The cutter, after proceeding some distance, met with a strong head wind, and was soon pitching her bows into the fast rising seas. Dick was awakened by finding himself slipping away to leeward, and presently afterwards the vessel shipped a sea, the heavy spray from which came down through the main hatchway, and gave an unpleasant shower-bath to those below it, and Dick had to scramble as best he could out of the water which collected to leeward. The cutter, under close-reefed mainsail, stood on, heeling over to starboard for some time; then she went about, and directed her course towards the north shore. Once more she tacked in the direction she had before been going. The smugglers grumbled and swore, expressing very little confidence in the seamanship of the dockyard maties. At length, however, they heard the order to take in the jib. The vessel came on an even keel, the anchor was let go; she had brought up in Cowes Roads. "If this wind holds, we shan't see Portsmouth harbour to-day," said Ben. "I suppose they can't intend to keep the irons on our wrists, now they have got us all safe. If we stop here for the night, I have a great mind to try and get away. I have many friends on shore, and some of them are sure to come off to learn what this craft is about. If I get the chance, I'll slip overboard and swim to one of their boats. What do you say, Dick; will you come?" "We haven't got the chance yet," answered Dick; "if I get off where should I go? I cannot return home, and I should just have to starve or beg, or take to some worse course. No, no; you may try it if you wish, but I'll stay here and learn what a man-of-war is like." Ben made further vain attempts to induce Dick to join him. Their conversation was interrupted by several men coming from forward with a supply of biscuits and cold salt beef and a grog tub, which, with a number of tin mugs, was placed in the centre of the deck. The latter seemed to afford infinite satisfaction, and the prisoners, in much better humour than before, laughed and talked and joked as if they had no cares in the world. A strict watch was still, however, kept over them, as, from their desperate character, it was suspected that they would not fail to try and take advantage of any opportunity which might offer of getting free. For upwards of three days the cutter lay at Cowes, the captured men being narrowly watched, though tolerably well fed and not ill treated. The time passed heavily away. Growling and swearing was the order of the day. Dick heard some of the smugglers vow that, if taken on board a man-of-war, they would sooner blow the ship up than remain in her; that all ships were alike--perfect hells afloat; and that it would be better to be shot or hung at once than to endure the existence they would have to lead on board. Of one thing he himself was certain, that he was heartily sick of being kept down in the cutter's hold. He felt eager to get free, even though he might have to exchange it for one of the much-abused king's ships. At length, the weather moderating, the cutter got under way and stood for Spithead, where several men-of-war rode at anchor. While the cutter lay hove to, a boat with a lieutenant from one of them came alongside. The officer, on stepping on board, ordered the men to be mustered. Dick watched him, and thinking from his countenance that he must be a good-natured, kind man, hoped that he himself might be among those he was about to select for his ship. The lieutenant spoke to the men one by one, asking them various questions, and finally chose a dozen of the best hands, who were forthwith ordered to get into his boat. Dick was greatly disappointed on finding that Ben and he were not taken. The commander of the cutter then received directions to run into Portsmouth harbour, and to take the remainder of the prisoners on board another ship, which lay there ready to receive them. Various surmises were offered as to what ship she might be. Neither Dick nor Ben could gain any information. "It matters very little; they're all alike," growled Ben. On entering the harbour the question was soon settled. A fine frigate lay at anchor off the dockyard, with her sails bent, and with every appearance of being ready for sea. The cutter brought up close to her, and a signal being made, she at once sent a boat alongside. "Now, lads, tumble up!" cried the lieutenant. "You have got to serve his Majesty, and I would advise you to put a good face upon the matter, and show that you are honest Englishmen, ever ready to do your duty and fight for your country. You'll come back with your pockets full of prize money, and be glad you went." Dick listened. "That's what I want to do," he said to himself; "and I will if I can." Some of the old hands--Ben among the rest--were not influenced in the same way. "All very fine!" he growled out; "but the proof of the pudding is in the eating. We shall get more scars on our backs from the cat than guineas in our pockets, I've a notion." The boat was soon alongside, and Dick with his companions were ordered up on deck, where they stood grouped together until the first lieutenant came to take down their names, and enter them on the ship's books. It was the first time Dick had ever been on board a man-of-war. He gazed round with astonishment at the extent of the white decks, the size of the highly polished guns, the height of the masts, the ropes neatly flemished down, and the order which everywhere prevailed. "She's a fine ship, at all events; and if it wasn't for father and mother and Janet, I should not be sorry to have come," he thought. The first lieutenant, an active, kind-eyed looking officer, spoke to the men much in the same way as the commander of the cutter had done. When he came to Dick, he inquired whether he had been to sea before. "Only on board a lugger, sir," answered Dick. "Well, my lad, I do not inquire what you were doing on board her; but I tell you, as you look a smart lad, that if you do your duty you will be sure to get on, and soon obtain a good rating." Dick touched his cap, as he had seen some of the men doing when they spoke to an officer, and replied, "I'll do my best, sir." "That's right, my lad," observed the first lieutenant, as he turned away to attend to some other duty. Although on deck strict order and discipline prevailed, Dick on going below found a very different scene, and it was some time before he got accustomed to the uproar, the men in hoarse voices bawling to each other, and laughing and joking and playing all sorts of tricks, some rushing here and there, others seated in groups, amusing themselves in a variety of ways. "At all events, there can't be much to make them unhappy, for they seem to be a merry set of fellows," thought Dick, as he was standing by himself, watching what was going forward. An officer, with a silver chain and whistle round his neck, coming by, asked him his name. Dick told him, and replied to a few other questions. The officer passed on. "Who's that?" asked Dick of another lad who happened to be standing near. "That's Mr Bitts, the boatswain." "He seems a fair-spoken gentleman," observed Dick. "Gentleman! I don't think he calls himself a gentleman; but he has a good deal to do with us, and it is wise to stand well with him, for he can use that rattan he had in his hand pretty smartly." Shortly afterwards Mr Bitts came back. Touching Dick on the shoulder, he said, "I want a boy, and I have applied for you. You'll understand you are to attend on me, so look out and do your duty." Dick, on inquiring of the other lad, found he was to be the boatswain's servant, which, although not an office of much honour, had its advantages, if he could manage to please his master. Dick soon found that his duties were not very onerous, and provided he was smart and active, Mr Bitts appeared to be satisfied. Altogether, when the hammocks were piped down, and he was allowed to turn into the one allotted to him, which the boatswain ordered one of the men to show him how to sling, he was tolerably well pleased with the prospect before him. As he was not placed in any watch, he had the advantage of sleeping through the whole night. When the hammocks were piped up the next morning, he turned out refreshed and ready to do anything required of him. He had lost sight of Ben, who having found several acquaintances on board, and being engaged in talking with them, did not trouble himself about him. The next day, the captain coming on board, the crew were mustered, when all the men as well as the officers had to come on deck. Dick was thinking what a fine body of men they appeared, when his eye, glancing aft, fell on two of the midshipmen, one of whom had his arm in a sling, and he at once recognised Lord Reginald and Mr Voules. The former seemed to know him, for he saw the young lord turn to the other midshipman and say a few words, and then look again towards him. Dick had not before inquired what ship he was on board, but he now found that he belonged to the _Wolf_. "I hope we shall not come across each other, and I'll do my best to keep out of his way," he said to himself. "He'll not forget, however, how he came to have his arm in a sling, and maybe he'll try to pay me off; if he does, I'll show him that I won't stand bullying aboard, any more than I would on shore." Captain Moubray, having made a short address to his crew, reminding them of the renown they had already gained, and expressing his confidence that they would keep up their credit, ordered the boatswain to pipe down. Dick, according to his resolution, kept clear of Lord Reginald. "It is lucky for you, my lad, that I had applied for you, as the midshipmen have asked for you to be the boy of their mess," said Mr Bitts, when Dick was attending on him that evening. "That young lord and Mr Voules wanted me to swap you for Tom Dolter, but I took Tom's measure some time ago, and let me tell you, my lad, that you may bless your stars. It's not pleasant to serve a dozen masters, though, if I hadn't held out, that young lord and Mr Voules would have had their way." Dick had good reason to be thankful at his escape. Next day the frigate went out to Spithead, took her powder on board, and blue-peter was hoisted, as a signal that she was about to sail. CHAPTER SEVEN. DEFIANT LOOKS--THE SPIRIT OF ILL-WILL INCREASES--SOME "VERY KIND INTENTIONS"--DICK'S PERSECUTORS--IN THE MIDSHIPMEN'S MESS--PADDY LOGAN AND TOADY VOULES--THE LAST LOOK AT OLD ENGLAND--THE FIRST ENCOUNTER--MR BITTS TO THE RESCUE--IDEAS OF REVENGE--A SAIL ON THE LEE BOW--PREPARING FOR ACTION--A FIERCE BATTLE--THE WOLF VICTORIOUS--BRAVERY OF DICK--HARD WORK TO KEEP THE PRIZE AFLOAT--BOUND FOR PLYMOUTH WITH THE PRIZE. The frigate's sails were loose, the crew at the capstan tramped round to the merry sound of the fife, the boatswain's pipe was heard shrilly repeating the orders he received; the sails were sheeted home, the anchor came to the bows, was catted and fished, and the _Wolf_, with canvas widespread to the breeze, glided majestically through the waters of the Solent. Dick wisely kept as much as possible out of the way of Lord Reginald. When they occasionally came in sight of each other, he did not fail to remark the angry look the young lord cast at him, while he himself could not help glancing at the other's arm, still in a sling. "That young ruffian's insolence is unbearable!" exclaimed Lord Reginald, on one occasion, turning away and addressing Voules, whom he happened to meet. "I wish that he had been caught on shore, when he would have been sent off to prison, and we should not have been troubled with him here. I was half inclined to denounce him as a fugitive from justice when I first saw him on board; but as we wanted hands, I thought that the captain would not thank me." "We'll pay him off somehow or other," answered Voules. "I'll find the means to do it, and he'll wish he had been sent to prison before he stepped on the _Wolf's_ decks." "I say, Oswald, what's happened to your arm?" asked Charles Ludlam, the senior mate of the berth, in which most of the members of their mess happened to be collected. "A blow I received on it," answered Lord Reginald, not being willing to explain matters. "He got it while attempting in a very gallant way to seize a fellow who was suspected of being a smuggler," observed Voules, coming to his friend's rescue. "You may depend upon it that Oswald would have caught him if it had not been for that." "Faith! What business had he to be trying to seize a smuggler?" asked Paddy Logan, who was no admirer of Lord Reginald, and still less of Voules. The latter was somewhat puzzled how to reply. "In support of the law which you Irish fellows delight in breaking," he at length answered. "Do you dare to cast reflections on the honour of Irishmen?" exclaimed Logan, firing up. "Naval officers are not expected to be excisemen. Of course the fellow had every right to defend himself." "I cast no reflections on the honour of Irishmen, but you yourself show your readiness to take the part of a lawless character," answered Voules. "Besides, the young scoundrel had previously grossly insulted Oswald and me." "Then he was influenced by private motives rather than public spirit," observed Ludlam, who was fond of speaking the truth, even though it might be unpalatable to his hearers. "Still, Oswald, I am sorry you are hurt, and hope that you will be wiser in future." "I shall always be found ready to defend my own rights whether against my equals or plebeians," answered Lord Reginald, haughtily. "I consider that I acted properly, and do not require to be pitied by you or any other person, merely because I happen to get an inconvenient blow on the arm." "Mayn't any one else pity you?" asked Tommy Shackel, the smallest midshipman on board, who was apt to take a malicious pleasure in seeing his seniors have a scrimmage among each other. "Hold your tongue, Master Jackanapes!" exclaimed Voules; "Oswald knows best what he likes and dislikes." "I only asked a question," said Tommy, in his squeaky voice; "and I put it to Oswald, and not to you." "How dare you speak to me in that fashion?" exclaimed Voules, about to give the small midshipman a box on the ear. "You'd better let him alone!" cried Paddy Logan, jumping up. "I appeal to Ludlam, who allows no bullying in the berth. Because you have had the honour of staying at Elverston Hall, you fancy you can exhibit your airs to us, but you are mistaken, my boy, as much as Oswald was when he first joined." Voules retorted, and Paddy and he would soon have come to blows, had not Ludlam interfered, and by the exercise of the authority he maintained in the berth, restored order. This scene took place on the first evening that the members of the berth all met together. The frigate was now standing down between the mainland and the wooded shores of the Isle of Wight. Calshot Castle--then held as a fortress, with a governor and a garrison--was seen on the right. On the left hand was the little town of Cowes, surrounded by woods, among which, here and there, a few cottages peeped out. Then Lymington became visible on the Hampshire shore, and, beyond it, the long shingly beach of Hurst. Many eyes on board were turned in that direction. Lord Reginald and Voules, using their spy-glasses, thought that they could catch a distant view of the hall, while forward, Dick Hargrave, Ben, and several other men were turning their gaze on well-known spots. Dick felt more sad than he had done since he came on board. He was thinking how anxious his father, mother, and poor Janet would be about him; even should Mrs Simmons have conveyed his message to them, they would only know that he had been carried off in the tender, and would remain ignorant of the ship on board which he had been sent. He had not written, for he possessed neither pens, ink, nor paper, and would have found it a difficult matter to indite an epistle with the uproar going on around him. Poor Dick gazed on until the tears came to his eyes. Though it was greatly owing to his own fault that he was being carried away from home and those he loved, he was not the less to be commiserated. While he thus stood, scarcely conscious of what was going on around him, Lord Reginald, who had been sent forward with a message to the third lieutenant on some duty, passed him. "What makes you stand idling there, boy?" exclaimed the midshipman, looking at him as if he had never seen him before, giving him a blow with the end of a rope. "You have no business on deck; go and attend to your duty below." Dick's first impulse was to raise his arm to defend himself. It was with difficulty he could refrain from retaliating. "I have no duty that I know of to attend to, and I have a right to look towards yonder shore, which neither you nor I may see for some time to come," he answered. "What! You are a sea lawyer, are you?" exclaimed Lord Reginald, angrily, Dick's words adding intensity to the vindictive feelings he already entertained towards him. "I'll report you to the first lieutenant, and he'll soon find means to make you mend your manners." Dick was going to reply, when he saw Voules coming along the deck, and he had the discretion to hold his tongue, knowing that the worst interpretation would be put on whatever he said. This was the commencement of hostilities on board the frigate between the young lord and the farmer's son. Scarcely a day passed that they did not come in contact with each other, when Lord Reginald never lost an opportunity of abusing the ship's boy, or striking him, if he had the least excuse, with a rope's end. Dick bore the ill treatment manfully, and endeavoured to the best of his power to do his duty. Though treated kindly by the boatswain, with the ordinary feelings of a yeoman's son he would not willingly have rendered menial service to any one, but as it was his duty he did not complain, and did his utmost to please his master. Mr Bitts had, by some means or other, discovered how Lord Reginald behaved to Dick, but had not actually seen him struck. The boatswain was not a man to allow any one to interfere with his prerogatives. He at length, however, saw the young lord, who did not observe him, strike Dick across the shoulders with a rope's end, and order him off to perform some duty or other. Mr Bitts immediately came forward and confronted the midshipman, with an angry glare in his keen eyes, for although Mr Bitts was not a man of many inches, he was a determined person, with huge whiskers, a firm mouth, large forehead, and broad shoulders. "Are you aware, Lord Reginald Oswald, that you are infringing the rules of the service? That boy belongs to me, and I'll let you know that neither your lordship nor any one else shall dare to ill-treat him." Lord Reginald looked somewhat astonished at this unexpected address. He was too proud to apologise, as he might have done and so settled the matter. "The fellow was idling," he answered, haughtily, "and I am not expected to know what boys you consider belonging to yourself. If I find him or any one else neglecting his duty I shall see that he attends to it." "I shall report you, Lord Reginald Oswald, if I find you interfering again with that boy, or any other over whom you have no authority," retorted the boatswain. "You may stand well in the opinion of the captain and some of the officers, but others, let me tell you, hold you at a much cheaper rate." "This insolence is unbearable!" muttered Lord Reginald; but he recollected that, although he was the son of a marquis, the boatswain was his superior officer in the service, and that he should be guilty of insubordination should he continue the dispute. He walked away, therefore, with feelings more embittered than ever against Dick Hargrave. Soon afterwards, meeting Voules, he told him what had occurred. "I don't know what will become of the discipline of the ship, if the warrant officers venture to interfere in the way old Bitts has done," observed Voules. "We must pay him off some day; but as to that fellow Hargrave, he is beneath your notice. I wish that we could have got him as our mess boy; we would soon have tamed his spirit. However, I won't let slip any opportunity of punishing him as he deserves." Voules was as good as his word, every time the opportunity occurred, though he took very good care that Mr Bitts should not see him ill-treating Dick. He told Lord Reginald what he had done, apparently taking a pleasure in nourishing the resentment the young lord felt against the farmer's son. It was but natural that Dick himself should feel ill-will towards his persecutors. He did not complain to Mr Bitts, of whom he stood not a little in awe, but he frequently did so to Ben Rudall, who ground his teeth and clenched his fists as he listened. "We'll pay the chaps off one of these days," he muttered. "You've heard tell, Dick, of the mutiny at the Nore, when the men rose and took the whole fleet from their officers, and would not give in until the Admiralty granted their terms. To be sure, a few of them were run up to the yardarm, but the men won't stand bullying now any more than they did in those days. If officers don't know how to behave themselves they must be taught. I wouldn't advise you to give the young lord tit for tat, or turn round when he next hits you, and use the rope's end on his back, but I should be wonderfully inclined to try it on, and let them hang me afterwards if they like." Dick listened eagerly to what Ben said--the advice was too much in accordance with his own feelings. Voules had spoken of him to the first lieutenant and to some other officers, and described him as a young ruffian who had been leagued with smugglers, and was now the associate of men of the worst character on board. Dick was accordingly strictly, if not harshly treated, and though he had at first been well-disposed to do his duty, he became every day more and more discontented, and ready to retort upon those whom he looked upon as tyrants. The frigate had been ordered to cruise in the Channel off the French coast, and a sharp look-out was kept night and day for an enemy. "We shall soon see how these young gentlemen behave if we get alongside of mounseer. They can hold their heads high enough now, but when the Frenchman's shot come whizzing about their ears, they'll duck them fast enough," said Ben. "Is there a chance, then, of our having a battle?" inquired Dick. "I should like to be in one, just to see how things are managed." "If Captain Moubray is the sort of man I have heard him described, he'll do his best to look out for an enemy," replied Ben. Still, day after day passed by and no suspicious sail was met with. At length, one evening, soon after dark, the _Wolf_ was standing in towards the French coast. Having passed the Island of Groix, she continued on until several shots were fired at her from a fort, which, however, did no damage. She put about, and a short time afterwards, the wind being East-North-East, the look-out aloft shouted-- "A sail on the lee bow!" The stranger was now seen to be running west by south. The _Wolf_ immediately made all sail, and as she got nearer, two muskets were fired towards the chase, which appeared to be a large ship, to bring her to. Instead of so doing, however, the Frenchman, for such she undoubtedly was, set all the sail she could carry, endeavouring to escape. This seemed strange, for as far as could be judged, she was a larger ship than the _Wolf_. "Will she get away?" asked Dick, who was standing near Ben Rudall at one of the bow-ports on the maindeck, through which they could dimly see the chase rising like some phantom giant stalking over the deep. "Not if we continue to overhaul her as we are now doing," answered Ben. "Will she fight?" inquired Dick. "Ay, and fight hard, too, just as a rat does when caught in a corner. It's a way those Frenchmen have, though why she runs now is more than I can tell. Maybe some of us will be losing the number of our mess. I should not care if I was among them myself. It's a dog's life I lead on board here; but I am thinking of poor Susan. If I am hit, it will be hard lines with her; she and the young ones will have to bear up for the work'us, for there's no one will care for the smuggler's wife, as they call her." "But I hope you won't be killed, Ben," said Dick; "there's no reason why you should be more than any one else." "Well, well, I'm not afraid," answered Ben; "the enemy's shot are in no ways particular, and I should not be so very sorry if one of them was to take off the head of that Lord Reginald or Toady Voules, as his messmates call him." "I could not bring myself to wish either one of them such a fate as that," observed Dick, who had not altogether forgotten his mother's instructions and Christian principles. "I have no reason to love either the young lord or his toady, and I should not weep my eyes out if they were to be killed--they'd only get their deserts; and for my own part, I would like to see them both knocked over by the same round shot," growled Ben, between his teeth. The frigate was now approaching the chase. The drum beat to quarters, and the crew hurried up from below, most of them stripped to the waist with handkerchiefs round their heads and loins. The glare of the fighting lanterns, hung up on the beams along the deck, cast a glow on their muscular figures, the breaches of the guns and other salient points, while all the rest were cast in the deepest gloom. Ben went to his gun, and Dick was ordered below to the magazine to bring up ammunition. Though much bigger than any of the other lads so employed, as he had been only a short time at sea, he had to perform the humble duty of a powder monkey. He would far rather have been engaged in working one of the guns. The _Wolf_ was carrying all the canvas which could be packed on her, studding-sails on either side and royals aloft. The chase also, under all sail, was still doing her utmost to keep ahead, but the _Wolf_, being the fastest ship of the two, gained rapidly on her. The men stood at their guns, waiting eagerly for the moment that the order to fire should be given, laughing, however, and cracking their usual jokes. The officers went their rounds, to see that all necessary preparations had been made. Dick was seated on his ammunition tub on the maindeck, when Lord Reginald and Voules, who had each a certain number of guns to look after, passed him. "I say, Oswald, that young smuggler looks pale enough now," observed Voules, in a voice sufficiently loud for Dick to hear him. "We must keep a sharp look-out on him, or he'll be running below to stow himself away in the hold." "Trust me for that! those ruffians ashore are the greatest cowards afloat," answered the young lord, as he passed on. Dick heard him. "I'll show him that I am no coward," he said to himself. Ben also, who was stationed at one of the guns it was Dick's duty to serve, heard the remark. "`Cowards!' does he call us?" he muttered. "He and Mr Toady will be the first to show the white feather, I've a notion." Shortly afterwards the sounds of two guns were heard. One shot, glancing along the _Wolf's_ bow, sent the splinters flying off it, while the other was seen to ricochet over the smooth water. The enemy had fired her stern chasers. The _Wolf_, without yawing, could not reply. She stood on, therefore, eager to come up with the chase. The latter was seen directly afterwards taking in her studdingsails and royals. The British crew cheered as they saw this. There was no longer any doubt that the enemy was ready to fight. The order was now given to take in all the studdingsails. The royals were next handed; the crew, who had left their quarters for the purpose, immediately hurrying back to their guns. Both frigates were still rapidly running through the water. Suddenly the chase put down her helm and luffed up on the starboard tack, intending to rake the _Wolf_, which was now coming up on her weather quarter. "Hard a-starboard!" shouted Captain Moubray, and the _Wolf_ was brought up on the opposite tack, thus avoiding the raking fire, and receiving the enemy's shot on the starboard side. "Well done!" cried the captain. "Now hard a-port!" The ship once more came up to the wind, and just clearing the French frigate's starboard quarter, shot up right abreast of her to windward. Both thus in near proximity, poured their broadsides into each other, and the battle became hot and furious. The British crew ran their guns in and out, the frigate's shot dealing death and destruction along the decks of her antagonist. It was just the position English sailors like the best. Dick saw several of his shipmates knocked over, and one poor boy, with whom he had just been talking, fell close to his side. He knelt down to help him, but not a movement was perceptible. He took his hand; it fell on the deck. The boy was dead. Dick's tub was soon exhausted of its contents, and he hurried below to the magazine to get it refilled. He lost not a moment, but was again at his station. "They shan't say I'm skulking," he muttered. "I wonder what Lord Reginald is doing." Dick might have seen the young lord, in spite of the shot crashing on board and sending the splinters flying about in all directions, killing or wounding several near him--the colour in his cheeks somewhat heightened, perhaps--attending to his duty and cheering on his men, and when the captain of a gun was killed, taking his place and laying hold of the tackles to haul it in for reloading. For some time the two frigates ran off before the wind; as tacks and sheets and yards were shot away, gradually decreasing their speed. In consequence of the injuries the French frigate had received, the _Wolf_ shot slightly ahead, when the former attempted to cross her stern, for the purpose of raking her, or gaining the wind, but not having room for this manoeuvre, she ran her jib-boom between the British ship's main and mizzen rigging. The third lieutenant, calling several of the men, attempted to lash it there, while the _Wolf_ poured in a fire which swept across the Frenchman's bows, but half those engaged in the effort, while hanging in the rigging, were shot, and the lieutenant himself fell badly wounded to the deck. Immediately afterwards the ships separated and stood on as before, exchanging furious broadsides. Dick saw Ben still working away at his grin, as eager as the rest of the crew, having evidently forgotten all about his gloomy anticipations of losing the number of his mess. For upwards of two hours the ships had been engaged, and no perceptible advantage had been gained by either. At length the _Wolf_ again forged ahead. Captain Moubray did not neglect the much-wished-for opportunity, but ordered the helm to be put hard a-starboard, and, while thus passing across the hawse of the French frigate, poured in a broadside which swept her decks fore and aft, killing and wounding many of her crew, and inflicting serious damage on her masts and rigging. Again the _Wolf's_ helm was put hard a-port, which brought the enemy a little before her starboard beam, when again the ships ran on with the wind about a point on the starboard quarter. Still it remained doubtful which would gain the victory. The British officers and crew had, however, made up their minds not to give in while a stick was standing; but the most indomitable bravery cannot always overcome the chances of war. While Captain Moubray, with the master by his side, was eagerly watching every movement of his antagonist, to take advantage of what might occur, a shot from her struck the mizzenmast, already severely wounded. With a fearful crash down it came on deck, inboard, killing one of the men at the wheel, which it much damaged, and severely injuring many others, while it encumbered the whole quarterdeck with its rigging, spars, and sails. They could hear the crew of the French ship cheer as they saw what had happened. "You may `hulloo' as long as you like, mounseers, but we'll be giving you as good before long," cried Ben; several of his shipmates echoing his words. They were right, for scarcely had the Frenchmen's cheers ceased, than down also fell their mizzenmast with a tremendous crash, evidently doing much damage. Almost immediately afterwards the mainmast followed, though the foremast still stood, enabling her to continue the action. The boatswain and his crew hurried to clear the wreck, while the carpenter endeavoured to repair the damaged wheel. The two ships again lay abreast of each other, though at a greater distance than before. The _Wolf_, however, did not, in consequence of the accident, slacken her fire, and she and her opponent were gradually sheering closer together, when the latter was seen to put her helm hard a-starboard, so as to lay the _Wolf_ on board. The order was now received from the captain to load the maindeck guns with double shot and the carronades with grape. "She will strike us on the bow," observed Captain Moubray to the master, "and as she is sure afterwards to rebound, the quarters of the two ships will be brought together. She intends to board us. Boarders, be prepared to repel boarders!" he shouted. At the same time the word was passed along the decks, not again to fire until the order was received from the captain. The two ships drew closer and closer together, until the bows met with a loud crash, and although the Frenchmen at the same time let fly a broadside, the English gunners, obedient to their orders, refrained from firing in return. As was expected, the bows rebounded from each other; the quarters of the two ships almost immediately came together. The quarter of the French ship was seen crowded with men, ready to spring on board the _Wolf_. "Now, my lads, give it them!" cried Captain Moubray, and his word was passed along the decks. The big guns sent their balls, and the carronades their showers of grape, into the very midst of the Frenchmen. Fearful must have been the effect among the crowded masses, and cries and groans resounded through the night air. Four guns only replied to the last broadside, showing the havoc and confusion it had caused. At the same moment flames burst forth from the Frenchman's deck. The English worked their guns with redoubled vigour. Scarcely had the fire disappeared from one part of the French ship, than it broke forth in another. Her shrouds and running rigging had been cut away, and her remaining mast was tottering. Still the Frenchmen fought on, though they could scarcely, it seemed, have hoped for victory. Once more the ships separated, still continuing to exchange broadsides, though many of the Frenchman's guns had been silenced. Still, from the number of men seen on her decks, they might hope to gain the victory by boarding. To guard against such a contingency was now Captain Moubray's chief care. Again the bows of the two ships met, when the outer arm of the _Wolf's_ best bower anchor, entering the foremost main-deck port of the French frigate, held her fast. Though the English continued to pour broadside after broadside into their enemy, no signal of surrender was shown. Every moment it seemed as if the foremast of the latter, already tottering, would go by the board, and probably fall on the deck of the _Wolf_. "We must put an end to this!" cried Captain Moubray. "Boarders, follow me!" He sprang forward, several of his officers and those to whom he had given the word, pressing round him, all eager to be the first on the enemy's deck. Among them was Lord Reginald, who, regardless of danger, burned to distinguish himself. The gallant boatswain led another party, hastily collected on the main-deck. Richard Hargrave, on hearing the boatswain's summons, and finding that ammunition was no longer required on his side, left his station and joined them. Two stout planks had been thrust through the Frenchman's second bow port. By this means the boatswain's party forced their way, for the gun which filled the port, having been dismounted, allowed them ingress. With cheers and shouts the British seamen, led by the captain, leaping down on the Frenchman's deck, with pistols flashing and cutlasses hewing and hacking, quickly drove their enemies aft. As they reached the main hatchway, many of the latter, unable to resist the impetus of the onslaught, sprang down below, where they were met by the boatswain's party, who, sweeping along the fore part of the deck, quickly cleared it. Still a determined band resisted. A marine was on the point of running his bayonet into the breast of Lord Reginald, when the captain cut down the man. In vain the Frenchmen attempted to resist. Foot by foot they were driven back, until the cry rose from an officer on the quarter-deck of "We surrender." At the same time he lifted a lantern above his head, as a signal which all might understand. "Lay down your arms, then!" cried Captain Moubray, "and no more blows shall be struck." The boatswain, with Richard Hargrave and others, were still using their cutlasses with deadly effect, the shouts and cries of the Frenchmen, as they endeavoured to withstand them, preventing all other sounds from being heard. Before advancing towards the French commanding officer, to receive his sword, Captain Moubray sent Lord Reginald and a party of men below to stop the slaughter. He sprang down in time to see Dick Hargrave and two other men engaged in a fierce combat with three Frenchmen, who, ignorant of what had taken place above, were still holding out. "You mutinous rascals!" exclaimed Lord Reginald to Dick and his companions; "didn't you hear the captain's orders to desist from fighting? The frigate has struck, and is our prize." Then shouting to the Frenchmen in their own language, he told them what had occurred, when immediately dropping the points of their weapons, they sprang back, to be out of reach of the British seamen's cutlasses. "I am not a mutinous rascal," exclaimed Dick, turning to Lord Reginald; "I didn't know that the Frenchmen had given in." "How dare you speak to me in that way?" exclaimed the young lord, even at that moment not forgetting his enmity towards Dick. "Look out for the consequences!" He then shouted to Mr Bitts, and in another minute the fighting, which had gone on for so many hours, altogether ceased. Both decks presented a terrible spectacle. In all directions lay the bodies of dead and dying men. Many had already passed away, others were writhing in agony, while the surgeon's attendants, regardless of what was going on around, were employed in carrying below those to whom assistance might be of use. One lieutenant alone stood on the quarter-deck. Captain Moubray, advancing among the bodies of his late foes, inquired for the French captain. The lieutenant pointed to a form which lay near the wheel, covered with a flag. "The captain of the _Thesbe_--the ship I yield to you--lies there," he answered, presenting the hilt of his sword. "There lies the first lieutenant, and there the second, and I, the third, am in command." "I return your sword to as brave a man as I can ever hope to meet. You have fought your ship with the greatest gallantry. Englishmen cannot desire to encounter more noble foes," said Captain Moubray, returning the sword, which the lieutenant, taking, sheathed with a deep sigh. Indeed, out of a crew of between four and five hundred men, upwards of a hundred had been killed, and nearly the same number wounded, while the frigate's hull was fearfully shattered, her bulwarks were torn away--she was a mere wreck. Captain Moubray, returning to his ship, sent a prize crew on board under the command of Mr Jager, the second lieutenant, who had with him Lord Reginald, Voules, and Paddy Logan, and forty men, Richard Hargrave being among the number. It was no easy matter to clear the ships, so firmly had the _Wolf's_ anchor hooked on through the _Thesbe's_ port. It was at last, however, freed. Scarcely had the two ships separated, than down came the _Thesbe's_ foremast, narrowly escaping falling across the bows of the _Wolf_. In an action lasting the best part of six hours, the _Wolf_ herself had suffered severe damage. The third lieutenant, the second lieutenant of marines, a midshipman, and ten seamen were killed, and nearly fifty officers and men wounded. She had lost her mizzenmast, and her other masts and several of her yards were injured. Her sails and rigging were cut to pieces. So numerous were the shot-holes in her hull, that the carpenter and his mates were unable to stop them until she had three and a half feet of water in her hold. A portion of her diminished crew was sent to the pumps, while every officer, man and boy, was employed in fishing the masts and spars, knotting and splicing the rigging, and shifting the sails. The two ships lay close together, drifting with the tide. The prize was won, but it was a question whether she would be kept. They were close in with the French coast; and should any other of the enemy's ships be in the neighbourhood, it was certain that they would be sent to look after the combatants. Mr Jager and his prize crew had work enough to do to keep the _Thesbe_ afloat, to heave the dead overboard, to attend to the wounded. The surgeons laboured away all night in amputating arms and legs, and binding up the limbs of those most injured. Not only was the cockpit crowded, but every cabin was full of wounded men. The greater part of the prisoners were of course removed on board the _Wolf_, but a few were retained to assist in working the pumps and attending to the wounded. While the carpenters were engaged in stopping the shot-holes--through which the water was rushing with a rapidity sufficient in a short time to carry the prize to the bottom--it was impossible to attempt repairing other damages. When morning broke, a shattered, blood-stained hull lay floating, with her victor watching near her. An anxious look-out was kept for any sail which might appear. Should a single frigate be seen, Captain Moubray and his officers resolved to fight their ship and defend their prize to the last. No one thought of resting. Mr Bitts piped his call, until, as Paddy Logan observed, "it seemed mighty curious that he had any wind left in his body." The frigate's crew laboured on, until many were ready to drop with fatigue. All knew that not a moment was to be lost. Another contingency might occur, besides the appearance of an enemy of superior force; a northerly gale might spring up, and drive the disabled frigates on the French coast. Happily, the masts of the _Wolf_ were secured, the rigging repaired, and fresh sails bent, and the wind coming from the southward, she took her prize in tow, and shaped a course across the channel for Plymouth. CHAPTER EIGHT. ON BOARD THE PRIZE--BEN GIVES BAD ADVICE--A STRANGE LINE-OF-BATTLE SHIP--FRIEND OR FOE?--THE WOLF AND HER PRIZE REACH PLYMOUTH--NOT ALLOWED TO GO ASHORE--PETER PURKISS--DICK DESERTS--HOMEWARD BOUND--VISIT TO THE SMUGGLER'S WIFE--RECEPTION AT THE FARM--DICK RECOGNISED BY LORD REGINALD AND VOULES--FEAR OF BEING RETAKEN--DICK LEAVES HOME--CAPTURED AND SENT ON BOARD A CUTTER. The _Wolf_, with a fair breeze, having her prize in tow, shaped a course for Plymouth. The wind though favourable was light, and should it continue so, it would be some time before she could reach her destination. It was fortunate, however, that the sea was smooth, as it enabled the carpenters the more easily to get at the numerous shot-holes in the sides of the prize, and to stop the water coming in, which it had been doing at a rapid rate, making it necessary to keep the pumps constantly going. This was hard work for the prize crew, for the few Frenchmen left on board, though they did not refuse to go to the pumps, worked listlessly, and very soon knocked off, declaring that they could work no more. The British seamen had therefore to work away until they could stand no longer. Lieutenant Jager, commanding the prize, had sent Lord Reginald and Voules to see that the crew at the pumps were persevering in their labours. Among them his eye fell on Ben Rudall and Richard Hargrave, who had both been working away for some time until their arms ached. "Spell oh!" cried Ben. "Spell oh!" echoed Dick, in order that some other men might come and help them. "Keep at your work, you idle rascals!" cried Lord Reginald. "I am not an `idle rascal,'" answered Ben, leaving the pump and folding his arms; "I have been working for two hours, and can work no longer until I have had some rest." Dick, who could really work no longer, and was wellnigh ready to drop to the deck, also knocked off, though he said nothing. Lord Reginald's anger was aroused in a moment. Seizing a rope, he struck Dick across the shoulders. "Go back, both of you!" he exclaimed; "we can have no skulking on board here." "I am not skulking," answered Dick, again seizing the pump handle and working away as hard as his strength would allow. "Do you dare to answer me?" exclaimed the young lord, striking Dick. Ben stood still, fixing his eye on the midshipman, who, though he flourished the rope, did not strike him, and Ben, with a look which showed the ill feelings aroused in his bosom, returned to the pump. Lord Reginald stood by, watching them until the whole gang, utterly unable to work longer, were relieved by fresh hands. "Let me see that you fellows keep at it longer and better than the last have done," he said. "That's what we get for working our lives out," growled Ben, as he and his shipmates staggered forward and threw themselves down to rest. "It's just as well he did not strike me, or something might have come of it. If I were you, Dick, I wouldn't stand it; I'd give him as good in return. He can but hang one, and that would be better than leading a dog's life on board this ship." "He might flog you round the fleet, which would be something worse than hanging," observed an old man-of-war's man, who had overheard Ben. "You wouldn't like that. I've a notion, mate, that it's wiser to grin and bear it, and hope for better times." "I do hope for better times," said Ben, addressing Dick, when no one else was within hearing. "I'll tell you what, lad; I'd advise you to give them leg-bail, if you have the chance. That's what I've made up my mind to, as soon as we get into port; they're sure not to keep a strict look-out, and, as usual, crowds of people will be coming on board to visit the ships. Tom Harris was right; keep your temper, as you did just now. To strike an officer, even though he strikes you first, is a serious matter, and I was wrong in advising it. But though, if you desert and are caught, you run the risk of a flogging, the chances are you'll escape, for they'll not take the trouble of sending after you if you can once get off into the country." "I'll think about it," said Dick. "I can't bear being struck by that young lord, or by any one else; and if he treats me as he has done before, I cannot answer for keeping my temper." The conversation was put an end to by the whole gang being ordered back to the pumps. The carpenters were gradually getting the leaks stopped, and before night the crew were able with less difficulty to keep the water under. Fresh hands were sent on board to attempt getting up jurymasts, in case the _Wolf_ should be compelled to cast off the prize. It was still doubtful whether they would reach the port in safety. An enemy might at any moment appear, and not only retake the prize, but themselves. A single frigate would prove a serious antagonist to the _Wolf_ in her present battered and disabled condition. During the night the breeze increased slightly, and the two frigates made better progress. Lord Reginald had told Voules of Hargrave's impudence, as he called it, and the midshipman had reported it to Mr Jager. "If we have mutinous behaviour among our own crew, we shall have the Frenchmen rising upon us," observed the lieutenant. "You must keep an eye, Voules, on those fellows, and put down that spirit of insubordination." "A flogging would do that lad Hargrave good," observed Voules, "and that old smuggler richly deserves one also." Voules, believing that it would please Lord Reginald, kept a watchful eye on both Dick and Ben, hoping that they would give him the opportunity of reporting them. Twice finding Dick moving slowly, as he considered about his duty, he started him with a rope's end. Several of the other men, knowing that he was no longer under the protection of the boatswain, took the opportunity of bullying him in a variety of ways. Ben did not interfere, his object being evidently to disgust him with the service. Fortunately for Dick, however, his persecutors had no time to annoy him when below, for, fatigued with their work, the moment they turned in they fell asleep. All hands, indeed, were employed from morning until night in clearing the ship of water, getting up jurymasts and repairing the worst damages, so that there might be a chance of keeping her afloat should bad weather come on. Hitherto but little progress had been made. All the sail which the _Wolf_ could carry was set. The prize was at length able to help herself by hoisting a small amount of canvas. A very sharp watch was kept for the appearance of any strange sail. At length, early on the second morning, the look-out from the masthead of the _Wolf_ shouted, "A sail in the south-west!" The first lieutenant went aloft to have a look at her. On his return to the deck, he reported that she was a large ship, standing on a course which would soon bring her up to them. It was difficult, at that distance, to say whether she was a frigate or a line-of-battle ship. "We must steer as we are," observed Captain Moubray. "Whatever she is, we must fight her." He then hailed the prize, directing Lieutenant Jager to get all the guns he could ready for use, so that he might be able to take a part in the fight, should it be necessary. He was, however, to do his best to escape, while the _Wolf_ engaged the stranger. The French officers on deck eagerly watched the ship coming up. As her topsails rose above the horizon, various opinions were expressed about her. Some thought that she might be the leading ship of a French squadron; others that she was a British man-of-war. As, however, she drew nearer, no other vessels were seen astern of her. One after the other the officers went aloft, to try and discover her character. She was soon pronounced to be a seventy-four, at least. The Frenchmen became highly elated, having fully persuaded themselves that she was a French line-of-battle ship. "Never mind, my friend," said one of them, "you have treated us well; we hope soon to have an opportunity of showing our gratitude." "Much obliged to you," answered the first lieutenant, to whom the observation was made. "It is not settled beyond doubt that yonder ship belongs to your nation. There is something about the cut of her canvas which tells me that she is an English line-of-battle ship. If she's an enemy, we intend to fight her, and, if we can, enable our prize to escape." "Morbleu!" exclaimed the Frenchman. "One might suppose that you rarely capture a prize, you seem so anxious to retain the one you have now got." On board the prize, all the preparations which could possibly be made were carried out. Such guns as were uninjured were loaded, fresh tackles rove. Her hard-worked crew recovered their spirits, and even Ben, for a time, ceased to growl. Still, considering the battered state of both ships, there seemed every probability, should the stranger turn out to be an enemy, that they must fall into her hands; and that a French prison would be their destination, instead of the triumphant reception they expected to meet at home, and the prize-money with which they hoped to fill their pockets. "It would be a great bore if that fellow does turn out to be a Frenchman," observed Voules to Lord Reginald. "I was in hopes that you would be able to get leave to pay another visit to Elverston Hall. It would be a great pleasure to accompany you." "Of course, my dear fellow, I shall be delighted, as my father gives me leave to bring any friends I like; though it appeared to me that you got rather tired at last, or you wouldn't have taken to dangling after the ladies in the curious fashion you did." "Tired! Oh dear no! their delightful society was sufficient attraction. I was never happier in my life." "Well, the honest truth is, my brother John told me that he thought you spent too much of your time with them, and he made one or two other remarks which I don't wish to repeat. You'll take the hint, should you go there again. However, instead of that, we may possibly have to spend the next few months at Verdun, or some other delectable place in France. I suppose they won't shut us up in the Bastile, or treat us as Napoleon did Captain Wright?" "Oh, don't talk of that!" cried Voules. "We must hope that yonder ship will prove to be a friend; for though the captain may resolve to fight her, should she be an enemy, we must inevitably suffer severely, even if we escape capture." As the stranger drew nearer and nearer, the excitement on board increased. The countenances of the Frenchmen at length, however, began to look blank. Then, as the glorious flag of England blew out from the peak of the stranger, a cheer rose from the deck of the _Wolf_, which was taken up by that of the prize. Signals were exchanged. The British ship made her number, the _Triumph_, seventy-four, Captain Sir Thomas Hardy, one of the noblest officers in the British service. Drawing nearer, and directing the frigate to cast off, he took the prize in tow, and all three ships proceeded together, as had previously been intended, to Plymouth. Having arrived at the mouth of the harbour, the _Wolf_ once more took charge of her prize, while the _Triumph_ again stood out to sea on her cruise. Cheers saluted the _Wolf_ as she proceeded through the narrow entrance to Hamoze, and scarcely had she dropped her anchor than numberless boats were alongside, containing people of all ranks, eager to hear an account of her victory. As soon as the prisoners and wounded had been sent on shore, the decks of the prize were crowded with visitors, and the Frenchmen lost no credit when it was seen to what a state she had been reduced before they yielded. Ben found several old friends, with whom he had many long talks, though what they were about Dick did not hear. The prize agents took charge of the captured frigate, and her crew returned on board their own ship. Battered as was the prize, she sold for a good sum, and was bought in by the Government. Then came pay day, and many a golden guinea jingled in the victors' pockets, though with most they did not jingle there long. Leave being given to as many as could be spared to go on shore, scarcely had the poor fellows landed than they were set upon by harpies of every description, whose object was to extract the said golden guineas, which Jack--not knowing what to do with--was willing enough to throw away. Some of the brave heroes might have been seen driving about in a coach and four, crowding the vehicle inside and out, with bottles and mugs on the roof, cheering as they went. Others might have been met with parading the streets, bedecked with pinchbeck watches and chains, which they had purchased under the belief that they were pure gold; seldom without a companion of the other sex on their arm, dressed out in the finery their money had bought. The dancing saloons and grog shops were crowded, few troubling themselves as to how the seamen were employed, provided that they returned on board in due time with empty pockets, ready to fight the battles of Old England, and win more prize-money, to be expended in the same senseless fashion. The crew of the _Wolf_ had been turned over to a hulk, while the dockyard people took possession of her to repair the numerous damages she had received, with orders to proceed with all possible despatch. General leave had of course not been granted, for many of the crew who had lately joined could not, it was considered, very justly be trusted: the smugglers, the jailbirds, the pressed men, and the boys. A certain number of old hands, together with the ever-faithful marines, were retained on board to watch them. Grumbling was of course the order of the day. Ben, being among those who could not obtain leave, was loud in his complaints. He vowed that leave he would have, though it might be French leave. "It is hard that a steady man, who never got drunk, and always did his duty from the time he stepped on board, should not be allowed to go on shore to send off his prize-money to his wife!" he exclaimed. People still came off in considerable numbers every evening, to see the victorious frigate; and although when the workmen were about they could not go on her deck, they could see her from the hulk. "Now is your time, Dick," said Ben, one evening when the decks were more than usually crowded. "Here's an old chum of mine alongside, Peter Purkiss; he'll take us ashore and will rig us in smock-frocks and gaiters, to look for all the world like countrymen. You slip first into his boat, and as soon as it's dark I'll follow; we'll then start away out of the town, and by the morning we shall be a long stretch off, my boy; no fear of being caught then." Dick hesitated; he had often thought that if properly treated he should like the service. The step his evil counsellor advised would be fatal to all his best aspirations. "Do as you like," said Ben; "depend upon it that Lord Reginald won't rest until he has seen you and the cat make acquaintance." At that moment Dick caught sight of the young lord talking to Voules. They did not observe him, but he thought that there was something sinister in the expression of their countenances. "They shan't catch me, as they fancy they will," he said to himself. He no longer hesitated. Several persons were descending the side; going down to the main-deck, he slipped through a port into the boat Ben had pointed out. "Where is your shipmate Ben?" asked the old boatman. "He said that he was coming as soon as it was dark," answered Dick. Several other people from the shore got into the boat, and ordered old Peter to land them without delay. Dick every moment expected to be discovered and to hear a hail ordering him back, but no one had observed him, and he was soon landed. "Now, lad," said the old man, "I'll take you to my house, as I promised. Ben will no doubt come next trip. You must be smart, though, lest we should meet any of your officers." As it was growing dusk Dick hoped not to be seen, and soon reached a house not far from the water's edge. The boatman, taking him into a small room, produced a carter's frock and gaiters, with a billycock hat and a large red handkerchief to tie round his throat. "Put on these duds, and keep close until I come back, when you and Ben may start together," said old Purkiss, as he left him to return to his boat. "Maybe he'll find it a harder matter to slip away than I did," said Dick to himself, "and if he doesn't come, I shall look foolish. Still, I have no fancy to go back and be bullied by that Lord Reginald and his toady Voules." Dick waited some hours; at last old Purkiss came back. "Poor Ben's in for it," he said. "He was just slipping down the side when the master-at-arms laid hands on him, and I'm afraid he's in limbo and very little chance of getting out of it until the ship goes to sea. Whether or not he thought something of the sort might happen, I don't know, but he gave me these ten guineas which he wants you to take to his wife. It won't do, however, for you to stay longer here, unless you wish to go back and be flogged to a certainty for attempting to desert. I'd advise you to cut and run this very night. Now, lad, fair play's a jewel. I am helping you off, and I expect to be paid for what I'm doing, as well as for the clothes I got for you. A five-pound note will satisfy me, though it wouldn't if you were not a chum of my old shipmate Ben." Dick paid the money without hesitation, for he knew that old Purkiss might have fleeced him, had he been so disposed, of every sixpence in his pocket. "Now we are clear," said the old man, who prided himself on his honesty, "and I want to give you a piece of advice, which mind you stick to. Don't show your cash to any one, or you'll be robbed and murdered maybe. I'll give you change for a guinea in sixpences and coppers; don't show too many of them either; better by far pay in coppers for the food you want, and sleep under haystacks or in barns until you reach home. You may get a lift in a cart or waggon, but don't let anybody know you've been on board a man-of-war. Just say you've been down to see an old friend, Peter Purkiss, and that's true for the most part, and that you are going home again to your father and mother. Now, lad, it's time to be off. I'll put you in the way out of the town, and when once you are in the country strike away north-east. You've got Dartmoor to cross, and as it's a wildish tract, I'd advise you to get a lift if you can until you are over it. If you can't get a lift, don't attempt to cross it at night, or you may lose yourself." Peter, who was a good-natured old fellow, though his morality was not of the strictest order, gave Dick a hearty supper, then, taking a thick stick in hand, started off with him, walking at a rapid pace until they reached the confines of Plymouth--a much smaller town in those days than it is at present. Dick then, having received directions from the old man as to the road he was to take, commenced what he had made up his mind would be a long tramp homewards. He was strong and active, and had not been long enough at sea to lose his shore legs. The night being clear, he was able to see the road, and he knew by the position of the Great Bear, which he always kept on his left hand, that he was going in the right direction. The dread he felt of being overtaken by a pressgang, or by the seamen of his own ship, whom he thought might be sent in pursuit, made him walk all the faster. It was with difficulty indeed at first that he restrained himself from breaking into a run; but he guessed rightly that he would thus be more likely to be stopped by any one who might meet him, and he restrained himself, continuing on only at a rapid walk. Every now and then, however, he turned his head over his shoulder, fancying that he heard footsteps, expecting to find himself seized and carried back to be ignominiously flogged--a fate he well knew would be in store for him, should he be caught. He was not, however, very well contented with himself. He was perfectly aware of the light in which the crime of desertion was regarded; and that he was abandoning all hopes of rising in the service, for which he had always had a liking, notwithstanding the way Ben had abused it. He had sufficient discernment to distinguish the good, true-hearted seamen from the bad, and he had observed that the former were well treated and looked on with respect by their officers. Then the recollection of the way Lord Reginald and Toady Voules had behaved to him would occur. "If it hadn't been for them, and others like them, I should have been happy enough on board, and willing to do my duty," he exclaimed. "I should have got on very well with Mr Bitts, for he was always kind in his way, and wanted to make a seaman of me; and I should have been one, for he was ready to show me how to do everything I wanted to learn. However, it's all past now, and I must go back to the plough. I must take care, though, that Mr Gooch doesn't hear of my being at home again, or he will be down upon me. I suspect that father will be afraid of that, and will be sending me off to a farm away from home, so that, after all, I shall not be with him and mother and Janet. I've half a mind even now to go back again--but then there's this flogging, and Lord Reginald would be down upon me more than ever; and what would Ben say? and old Purkiss would get it for helping me off." Such were some of Dick's meditations as he trudged on during the night, making good about four miles an hour, so that he was nearly thirty miles away from Plymouth when morning broke. He still walked on until he came to a roadside inn, where, feeling very hungry, he stopped for breakfast. While the landlady was cooking some eggs and bacon, he fell asleep, with his head on the table. "What ails you, lad?" said the woman, as she placed the smoking hot dish near him, and shook him by the shoulder. "It's not the time o' day people who have had a night's rest take to sleeping." "But I haven't had a night's rest," answered Dick, rousing himself. "I have been walking on all the morning; but I am more hungry than sleepy, so I thank you for the eggs and bacon, and would be glad of a jug of ale to wash them down." The landlady, still looking at him somewhat suspiciously--detecting, perhaps, the seaman's shirt below his frock--placed the ale before him. From the questions she put to him, Dick thought that she guessed who he was, and deemed it prudent to again set off. Recollecting Peter's advice, he produced sixpence to pay for his breakfast, and then at once took his leave. For another hour or more he trudged on, until he became so weary that he could scarcely move. He saw a haystack a short distance from the road, inviting him to rest beneath it. Hardly had he thrown himself down on the lee side, away from the public path, than he was fast asleep. It was late in the afternoon before he awoke, when he continued his journey, stopping only at the first inn he came to that he might obtain some food. He at length reached Exeter, but as he saw seamen moving about and ships in the distance, he was afraid of stopping there, and, passing through it, he again found himself in the country. Many a weary mile he trudged on. What might be in store for him he could not tell, but anything would be better than going back. Puzzling questions were often asked him, and he ran, on several occasions, great risk of being detected. His sun-burnt countenance and seaman's roll, which he had already acquired, often nearly betrayed him. As he approached his home, the anxiety to get safely to his journey's end increased. At length, passing through Christchurch, he recognised the familiar scenery of his native district. The high white cliffs of the Isle of Wight, the Needle rocks below them, and the tall lighthouse of Hurst, with its cheese-like castle, bathed in a rich glow from the rays of the setting sun. He sat down on the top of the cliff, and considered--while he ate some bread and cheese he had obtained at his last stopping-place--in which direction he should bend his steps. Longing as he did to go home, he was anxious to fulfil Ben's commission by delivering the money entrusted to him for Susan. He decided to do this first. "She'll be longing, poor woman! to hear of her husband; and it won't make much difference to father and mother whether I get home an hour or two later." Having come to this resolution, he hurried on, wishing to reach Keyhaven soon after dark, as he had no desire to be seen by any one. He reached Susan's cottage. "Who's there?" asked a voice from within, in reply to his knock. "Open the door, and I'll tell you," he answered. Susan herself admitted him, though he would scarcely have known her, so pale and wan did she look. She did not know him, and he had to tell her who he was. She then began to make inquiries about "her good man." Dick had no very satisfactory account to give. All he could say was that Ben had intended to desert and come home, but that in all probability he had been caught and kept on board. "He did not forget you, however," said Dick, presenting ten guineas to the poor woman. At the sight of the money Susan's countenance brightened. "Bless him! he was always kind and ready to give when he had it; but it is the last, I much fear, I shall ever get from him!" she exclaimed, and then burst into tears. "I hope not," said Dick. "The ship will be paid off some day, and then he will be able to come home, with plenty more in his pocket. I have sometimes wished that I had stopped, but he advised me to run with him; and it might have been better if I had been caught, and he got away." "It cannot be helped, Dick," said Susan, inclined to take the matter very philosophically; "though when the ten guineas are gone--and they can't last for ever--I don't know what I shall do. If it hadn't been for them, I should have been in the workhouse next week." "I must tell my mother about you," said Dick; "maybe she'll send some food for you and the children." "Your mother will be a long way off, Dick. You haven't heard, maybe, that they are going to leave the farm next week, and have taken one the other side of Christchurch. Your father, after all, accepted Lord Elverston's offer, though it was what my good man always said he would not do if he was in his place, and the farm is to be taken into the park. It was a sore trial to your father and mother, but after you went they seemed not to care what became of them." "And Janet! Have you heard how she is?" asked Dick, eagerly. "She's better than she was, and it is said she's at the bottom of the matter." "How's that?" asked Dick, somewhat astonished. "Why, Lady Elverston, who is a very kind lady--and even those who don't like my lord confess that--was very often at your cottage, and one day she told your mother that she thought Janet's sight might be restored. She promised to take her up to London to a doctor of some sort, who makes blind people see, they say. So it is all arranged, and after that your father gave in. As soon as they move to their new home, Janet is to go up with my lady." Dick could scarcely believe what he heard, and was now, naturally enough, in a greater hurry than ever to get home. He promised, if he could manage it, to come back and see Mrs Rudall again. In better spirits than he had been for some time, he set off on his walk home. He had not much fear of being recognised, since Susan had failed to know him. He therefore took the shortest road. Seeing a light beaming through the window, he guessed that his father and mother were still up. The door, however, was bolted. He knocked loudly, crying out, "Let me in! let me in!" "Oh, that's Dick!" he heard Janet exclaim. The door was hastily opened, and in another minute he was in his mother's arms. "Where do you come from?" asked his father, somewhat sternly. "You have given us all a great fright about you since we found that letter which you left in your room; and the rumours we heard did little to allay it." Dick expressed his contrition, declaring that he had acted for the best, and then gave, as briefly as he could, an account of himself up to the present time. "No man must do evil that good may come of it, and in this case I don't see that any good has come of it," said his father. "You leagued yourself with smugglers and got pressed in consequence, and now you have run from your ship, perhaps to be seized and carried back as a deserter." "But I must take care not to be seized, and am ready to stop and work with you, father. I deserted because I was forced to serve against my will, though I found the life on board not so bad as I expected, and if it hadn't been for the bullying I got from Lord Reginald and that other midshipman, I would have remained where I was." Mrs Hargrave and Janet now took Dick's part, and his father was ultimately pacified, though, as he said, it went against the grain to have a son of his called a deserter, however ill he might have been treated. Dick found that the account Susan had given him about Janet was correct; that she was shortly to accompany Lady Elverston to London, to be put under a celebrated oculist, and to undergo the operation of couching. "Bless her ladyship's heart for her kindness!" said Mrs Hargrave. "We have not many days to remain here, and I must have you stay in-doors, lest you should be seen by any who have an ill will against you, Dick," observed his father. "I don't think they would know me any more than Susan Rudall did when I paid her a visit," answered Dick. "I'd rather not be boxed up in the house, if I can help it. I should soon fall sick after being accustomed to the sea air so long." "Better remain in-doors at home than be locked up in a prison," observed his father. "It is a sad thing for me to have to say it, but remember, Dick, you have made yourself liable to that, and it will be wiser for you to remain in hiding until we go to our new farm and people have forgotten all about you." Dick did not longer argue the point, but he made no promises. His mother, observing how weary he was, and that he could scarcely keep his eyes open, suggested that he should go to bed, and gladly acting on the advice he staggered off to his room, which remained exactly as he had left it. Dick took a day to recover from his fatigue and, after that, shut up in his room, be began to find the time pass heavily away. His mother was engaged in household affairs, and in preparing for the removal, while his father was absent from home until late in the evening, having to make more than one trip to the new farm. Janet came and sat with him frequently. She was in good spirits at the anticipation of recovering her sight, about which she was very sanguine. Still Dick pined for fresh air. "You ought to get out," he said to Janet, "instead of sitting all day shut up here. I'll chance it; put on your shawl and bonnet; we are not likely to meet any one, and if we do they'll not interfere with us." Janet, without further consideration, forgetting her father's warning, agreed, and she leaning on Dick's arm, they took their way down a green lane in which she especially delighted, and which turned off near the house. She knew that scarcely any one passed that way, as she had frequently gone along it alone, with her dog to guide her. Tempted by the pleasantness of the evening, they went on for some distance, through a forest glade. "We ought to be going back," said Janet at length, "for I feel the air damp, though you don't find it out, Dick, and I know that the sun must have set." "There will be plenty of light for me to see my way home," answered Dick; "but we will turn, as you wish it." They had not got far on their way back, when Janet felt Dick give a start, and she heard the sound of horses' approaching at a quick pace. "What do you see?" she asked. Dick did not answer; he was looking about to find some place of concealment. Had he been alone he could easily have hid himself, but he could not leave Janet. The horsemen approached rapidly. Dick tried to walk on in an unconcerned manner. In another minute they were up to him, and he saw Lord Reginald and Mr Voules. He felt sure that they recognised him, for he saw the latter turn to the young lord and make some remark, though, possibly on Janet's account, he did not speak sufficiently loud to allow what he said to be heard. They both, however, stared very hard, and then passed on, allowing Dick and his sister to proceed on their way. "Who are those persons?" asked Janet. Dick told her, but, not wishing to alarm her, observed, "If they knew me, they didn't think it worth while to interfere. I don't suppose any harm will come of it." Janet, however, became very anxious. "As they are officers of the ship you ran away from, they'll think it right to take you. Oh, Dick! you must try and hide where they can't find you. It would be dreadful to have you carried off again!" "Don't tell father and mother, then; it will frighten them, and I'll see what's best to be done. Both these fellows hate me, and I don't suppose they will let me remain in quiet. They were afraid of attempting to seize me, for they knew well that they would have found it a tough job." It did not occur to Dick that he enjoyed his safety at the moment from being in company with his blind sister, as Lord Reginald, at all events, was unwilling to interfere with him. Janet, in her eagerness to get home, almost dragged Dick along, and he felt her arm tremble as she thought of the danger to which he was exposed. According to his wish, she said nothing to her mother of the encounter. Mr Hargrave was not expected home until late. Dick had been thinking of what he should do. As soon as he had had supper, Janet having gone to her room, he jumped up, saying-- "Mother! that young lord and his friend are at the hall, and they have seen me. They may not trouble themselves about me, but I'd rather not trust them. I'll go off and hide somewhere; and if they send here, you can say that you don't know where I am. Tell father that I am sorry, very sorry, that he should be troubled so much about me; but it cannot be helped now. Those two midshipmen will be joining their ship soon. It won't be long before she's ready for sea again, and then I may go back to the new farm without fear. No one in that neighbourhood will know me, and I'll promise to work hard and make amends to you and father, and keep clear of smugglers in future." Mrs Hargrave was naturally much grieved, but she had no other proposal to offer. She knew the angry feelings which existed between her son, and the young lord, and thought it best that they should not again run the risk of meeting. "But where do you intend going?" she asked. "That's the very thing I don't want you to know, mother," he answered. "You can now say honestly that I left home, and that you have no idea where I went to. Good-bye, give my love and duty to father." Mrs Hargrave embraced Dick with tears in her eyes. He ran in to wish Janet good-bye. "I have told mother all about it," he said. "Keep up your spirits! no harm will come to me. I need only keep away for a week or two, and as soon as the ship sails, I shall be all safe." Janet was not so satisfied as her brother appeared to be on that point. She threw her arms round his neck, and burst into tears. "Cheer up, cheer up!" said Dick, "I know I am a brute to have made you all so unhappy, but when I come home again I intend to turn over a new leaf." Janet held his hand. An indefinite fear of what might happen seized her. He tore himself away, half inclined to be angry with her and his mother, for making so much fuss about the matter, and rushed outside the house. He soon turned off the high road and hurried on along a path in the direction of Keyhaven. "I'll get Susan Rudall to stow me away. She'll be grateful to me for bringing her the money, and, as I've got a few guineas in my pocket, I can pay her well for keeping me, and it will be an advantage to her," he said to himself. "I must take care that no one sees me going into her cottage, and I don't suppose the young lord or that fellow Voules will think of looking for me there." The night was dark, but Dick, who knew the way, ran on, stopping every now and then to listen if any one was approaching. He had got close to Keyhaven, when it became necessary to use more caution, as people who knew him might probably be about, and should an inquiry be set on foot they might state that they had met him. He had almost reached Susan's cottage when, turning up an angle of the road, he found himself close to several men who were coming up it. He stopped, he could not go on without passing between them. Acting on the impulse of the moment, he turned and ran back, hoping to find some place where he might conceal himself until they had passed. "Stop that fellow, whoever he is!" shouted a voice, in an authoritative tone. A couple of men darted forward, and before Dick had got many paces away he found himself seized by the shoulder. "Halloa, my fine fellow! who are you? and what are you about?" asked one of the men. "I am going to visit a neighbour," answered Dick, trying to free himself. "You must come back to our officer first, and give an account of yourself," said the first speaker, whom Dick recognised as a man-of-war's man. Resistance was useless, and he made no further attempt to escape. The officer and the rest of the men soon came up, and Dick repeated the account he had given of himself. "Very fine!" was the answer; "but you must come up to the station, and if Lieutenant Hilton knows you he will be able to state how far what you tell us is true." Dick, making no answer, walked on between his two captors. From what he could make out, the men belonged to a revenue cutter, which had dropped anchor off Hurst that evening, in consequence of information received of some smuggling work likely to take place in the neighbourhood. "My ill luck!" thought Dick. "If it hadn't been for that I should have got down to Susan's without difficulty, and now, because I am known to have been on board the _Nancy_, they'll accuse me of being concerned in this matter, of which I never so much as heard, until this moment." Dick was perfectly right in his conjectures. Lieutenant Hilton, who had just returned from visiting the neighbouring posts, no sooner set eyes on Dick, than he exclaimed, "Why, that's young Hargrave, the very fellow Lord Reginald Oswald was speaking to me about, not an hour ago, a deserter from the _Wolf_, a desperate young ruffian, by all accounts. I'll hand him over to you Mason, to carry on board your cutter, but you must take good care that he doesn't escape." The commander of the cutter laughed. "I'll clap him in irons, and he'll be clever if he gets his wrists out of them," he answered. Dick was led down to the beach by the cutter's crew, who at once pulled on board. Being hauled up the side without ceremony, he was handed down below, and a pair of handcuffs were placed on his wrists. "You've had a long run on shore, my lad, and it is to be hoped you enjoyed yourself," said the seaman who was fastening them on. "I wouldn't stand in your shoes for something, let me tell you. You've heard tell of Tim Macarthy, who three times ran from his ship, and got hanged. You must look out that the same doesn't happen to you if you play that trick again." Dick made no reply; his spirit was so utterly broken that he could have burst into tears, had he not made a strong effort to restrain himself. "They shan't see me play the woman, if I can help it," he said to himself; "but if ever I have the chance I'll make that Lord Reginald pay for it. If he hadn't informed against me, the chances are I should have got off. He and his messmate hadn't the courage to stop me by themselves, and so they must needs gallop off and tell that lieutenant that they had seen me. What a fool I was to go down to Keyhaven, instead of striking away inland, where I should have been safe from them. Now, I suppose I shall be flogged and branded as a deserter, and perhaps be hung, as that fellow says. I shouldn't care if I had changed my name, I should not like to bring disgrace on my father and mother. It would break their hearts to know such had been my fate." These, and if possible, still more gloomy thoughts passed through Dick's mind, until, leaning his head against the side of the vessel, near which he had been placed, he fell off into a troubled slumber. CHAPTER NINE. TREATMENT OF THE PRISONERS--CHASED BY A PRIVATEER--THE PRESSED MEN ARMED--THE FIGHT--DICK'S GALLANTRY--CAPTURE OF THE LUGGER--PRIZE CREW SENT ON BOARD--ATTEMPT OF THE FRENCHMEN TO TAKE THE CUTTER--DICK HARGRAVE'S PRESENCE OF MIND--RECEPTION ON BOARD THE FRIGATE--NEARLY FLOGGED--BEN RUDALL'S STATEMENT--THE CAPTAIN'S DILEMMA--DICK'S GRATITUDE. Dick was not the only occupant of the cutter's hold. There were several other men--some pressed, others released from prison on condition of serving on board the fleet; and these for security were kept down below, until they were placed on board the ships for which they were destined. Besides them there were a few volunteers, mostly young men, who had joined at the places at which the cutter had touched. Daylight was streaming down the hatchway when Dick awoke. The cutter was still at anchor. He knew that although he was so near home there was no chance of his friends learning where he was, and of their trying to obtain his release. His father he would rather not see. He made out, from the conversation going on around him, that the cutter was bound down to Plymouth, with men for the _Wolf_, to replace those who had been killed and wounded. If he had any wish, it was that the vessel would get under way. He was eager to face the worst, and get it over as soon as possible. A dull stupor at length came over him, and for long he sat neither asleep nor awake, without thinking. He could hear the tramp of feet overhead; still the vessel remained stationary. He was aroused when the breakfast was served out to him and the other prisoners. He ate mechanically, exchanging only a few words with those near him, and then went off into the same state as before. At length he heard feet descending the companion ladder, and looking up, he saw the officer who had captured him holding a lantern in his hand, accompanied by two persons, whom he recognised as Lord Reginald and Mr Voules. "Is that the young fellow, my lord, who deserted from the _Wolf_," asked the officer. "No doubt about it," answered Lord Reginald. "I'm glad you have caught him." "I should have known him from among a hundred," said Voules, "though he has got out of his sea rig. Take care that he doesn't get away from you. I should be sorry if he escapes the flogging he'll get on board!" "You see I have him fast enough at present," answered the officer, pointing to the handcuffs on Dick's wrists, "He may be very clever, but he'll not get out of those in a hurry." The midshipmen looked round, but could identify no other prisoners as deserters from their ship. "I shall not sail until the tide makes to the westward; so if your lordship intends to honour me by returning in the cutter to Plymouth, you will have time to go back to Elverston and get your traps," Dick heard the lieutenant observe as they ascended the companion ladder; but the reply did not reach his ears. As the cutter remained stationary, he had good reason to fear that the two midshipmen would take a passage in her, and that he should be subjected to their taunts and ill-treatment, and have no chance of being set at liberty, which he might otherwise have had when they once got to sea. Whether or not he was right in his conjectures he could not tell. He heard several persons come on board; then the anchor was hove up, and the cutter got under way. He would have given much to have sent a message on shore, but he had no opportunity. A fresh breeze carried the cutter along at a good rate. Before nightfall she was off Portland. Hitherto neither Lord Reginald nor Voules had come below. "I only hope they'll not show themselves, for it will be a hard matter to keep a quiet tongue in my head if they speak to me," thought Dick. "It will be all the same, though, for I shall be flogged to a certainty when I am on board again, and I should like to give them my mind first." Though below, Dick could judge pretty accurately what the cutter was about. She was evidently making little or no way, for he could hear not the slightest sound of a ripple against her side. She lay, indeed, becalmed, in West Bay, between Portland and The Start. It was night, and the men round him were asleep, as their loud snores in various tones told him. He would have had no inclination to talk, however, had they been awake. The only other sounds which reached him were the occasional footsteps of the watch on deck, as they paced over his head, or the creaking of the jaws of the mainboom and gaff, and, now and then, the flap of the mainsail. In vain he tried to get one subject out of his head--the thought of the flogging. Not that he dreaded the pain he should suffer one-tenth part so much as he did the disgrace. His father's heart would well-nigh break should he hear of it. The stout English yeoman was as proud in his way as was the Marquis of Elverston. "It is he--he, that Lord Reginald, who has brought me to this!" he muttered, clenching his fists and grinding his teeth. "If ever I have the chance I will be revenged on him! I must, I could not help it." Dick conjured up a fearful picture--the young lord in his power, his hand upon his throat. He forgot that it was through his own folly that he had enabled Lord Reginald to treat him in the way he had done. Had he kept free of the smugglers, had he not been tempted to desert, Lord Reginald, when exhibiting his ill feeling, would have been seen by all to be in the wrong. The cutter made no way during the night, and though she drifted to the westward with one tide, the flood carried her as far back again; so that when morning broke The Start and Portland Bill were almost at equal distances from her. Dick dozed off while the crew were washing decks. He was only fully aroused when, as before, breakfast was brought down for the prisoners. After some time, sounds of laughter and frequent footsteps reached his ears, and he guessed that the commander with his young passengers were walking the deck after their breakfast. Presently he heard the former order the steward to hand him his spyglass. "What is she, Mr Mason?" asked Lord Reginald. "A large lugger, at all events. She may be a Jersey privateer, or she may be French. As she is bringing up a fresh breeze from the eastward, we shall know more about her soon." "Suppose she is French, shall you attack her?" asked Voules, in a tone which showed no great satisfaction at the thoughts of such an event taking place. "She is more likely to attack us, as she probably carries six or eight guns and one long nine-pounder. Such is the armament of most of those craft, and twice as many hands as we can muster, while we have only got our four small carronades, which are of very little use except at close quarters." "Then I suppose we shall have to run for it," said Voules; "there'll be no honour or glory in fighting her." "I shouldn't like to have to run from an enemy unless she was very much larger than yonder craft appears to be," exclaimed Lord Reginald. "As to that, my lord, we must do our best not to be taken, and shall have to fight for it. We have hands enough to work our guns, but if she runs us aboard, her numerous crew will tell fearfully in her favour." "But you have a good many prisoners below; I suppose they could be trusted to help us?" said Lord Reginald. "I shouldn't like to put cutlasses into their hands; they might turn against us," observed Voules. "No fear of that," answered the lieutenant; "they are Englishmen, and if they see an enemy will fight fast enough. I shall trust them, at all events, and as soon as I can make out whether yonder lugger hails from Jersey or not, I will have them on deck and arm them." Dick, as he heard this, heartily hoped that the stranger might prove an enemy. The rest of the prisoners, he judged, from the remarks they made, were much of his way of thinking. "The mounseers won't make any difference between us and the crew, if we're taken," observed one of the men. "Right there, mate; better have a jolly stand-up fight than be sitting down here all day, doing nothing," remarked another. The officers had gone aft, and Dick could not hear what was said. In a short time, however, he knew that the cutter was moving by the rippling against her side. Presently she heeled over slightly, showing that the breeze was freshening, and he heard the order to set the squaresail and square-topsail. There was little doubt, then, that the commander was following the advice given by Mr Voules, making the best of his way to the westward. He would do that under ordinary circumstances. It was still uncertain whether the lugger which had brought up the breeze was a friend or an enemy. He had heard the order to hoist the ensign, and some time afterwards a voice called out, "That's a French craft, I'll take my davy, though we can't see her colours." Again some time elapsed, when a gun was heard, but the sound was so faint that Dick thought the vessel which fired it must be at a great distance. Presently Mr Mason came down into the hold. "Lads," he said, looking round, "you are all Englishmen, though you are pressed against your will to serve his Majesty. I put it to you, whether--as I think it likely we are somewhat over-matched--you'll fight to preserve this vessel and to save yourself being carried to a French prison. I have come down to give you your liberty, as I am sure that you will all make the same answer, and if cutlasses are put into your hands, that you'll fight as bravely as any men on board. We shall then, I have no fear, lick the lugger, and carry her as a prize into Plymouth harbour." A hearty cheer was given. "We'll thrash the mounseers; no fear about that," answered the men; Dick joining as warmly as any one. The men's handcuffs were soon taken off. Dick, on finding himself free, sprang to his feet and grasped the cutlass which was put into his hands. On reaching the deck he found the cutter was prepared for action. Two of the guns were trained aft, boarding-pikes were placed along the bulwarks. An arm-chest stood open, containing pistols, hand-grenades, swords, and cutlasses, while a number of muskets lay on the companion hatch. The two midshipmen, with pistols in their belts and cutlasses at their sides, stood watching the lugger, which under press of sail was coming up astern. She was evidently a much faster craft than the cutter, though the latter was a stout vessel of her class. The lugger now began to fire her long gun; the shot, though failing to strike, pitched sometimes on one side, sometimes on the other side of the cutter. "Why don't we try and knock away some of her spars?" observed Lord Reginald. "Little use firing our pop-guns," answered the commander; "our shot won't reach her as yet." Presently the long gun sent its missile through the cutter's squaresail. Another shortly afterwards made a second hole, but did no other damage. "Those fellows know how to handle their gun. We shall see how they behave when we get them within range of ours. Stand by, Beal, to give it them," he said to the gunner, who had brought a match from the galley fire. The guns were fired almost simultaneously. What effect their shot produced could not be seen, though Beal declared that one, if not both, struck the lugger. They did not, however, stop her way. She fired her long gun in return. It was well aimed, for down came the squaresail, the halliards shot away. The lugger's crew were heard cheering. "Shout away, my fine fellows!" cried Beal; "we'll make you sing a different note if you come alongside." Hands were instantly ordered to repair the damage. It took some time, however, to bend fresh halliards and hoist up the yard. During the interval, the lugger had gained considerably on the cutter, but this enabled the latter to fire her stern chasers with more effect. The men worked vigorously, loading and firing almost as fast as the lugger's crew did their long gun. Still, with short guns the aim was uncertain, and of the many shots fired, comparatively few did any damage to the enemy. Mr Mason's object was to get to the other side of The Start, when probably the firing might attract the attention of some man-of-war near the mouth of Plymouth harbour, which might come out to the rescue. He was determined, however, to fight to the last, rather than yield his vessel. The Frenchman's object was evidently to knock away some of the cutter's spars, to get alongside as soon as possible, trusting to obtain the victory by boarding her, well aware of the small crew she was likely to carry; probably, also, supposing that she conveying specie or valuable stores to Plymouth, as was frequently done, instead of sending them by land. Most of the damage inflicted on the cutter was therefore aloft. Her sails already showed many holes. Her starboard backstay had been shot away, her topmast was wounded, though it still stood. Mr Mason now made preparations for what he saw was inevitable. "When the cutter boards, my lads, remember we must not only drive back the boarders, but follow them into their own vessel and take her. Even if we wished it, should we lose any of our spars, we could not get away from her. It is pretty certain that her guns are heavier than ours. Lord Reginald, I'll get you to stand by the helm with half a dozen hands to manage the cutter in case we are separated, and all the rest of you will board with me. Lads, I'll depend upon you to carry that craft. I know what privateersmen are like, when they see cold steel in their faces. They'll come on boldly enough at first, but when once beaten back, they'll turn tail like hounds, and skulk for shelter below." The cheers which rose from the throats of the crew, joined in heartily by Dick and the rest of the pressed men, gave promise of victory, in spite of the odds which might be against them. The firing was continued by both vessels as fast as the guns could be loaded, the lugger gradually gaining on the chase. The lieutenant ordered as many hands as were required, to drag over the two stern guns to the side on which the lugger might come up; while the other two were loaded with musket-balls ready to fire into her. At length, a shot aimed high by the lugger struck the cutter's topmast. The spar held on for a minute, but a stronger puff of wind filling the sail, with a loud crash it gave way, and down came the gaff-topsail and square-topsail. The mainsail and squaresail still, however, stood. The lugger now came up hand over hand. The two stern chasers were once more fired. The lugger was steering for the cutter's starboard quarter. In a few minutes the guns were dragged over to the starboard side and run through the two after ports, while the other remaining gun was hauled up with equal rapidity to the same side. "Lower away the squaresail; down with the helm. Now fire, lads!" Four guns were simultaneously discharged, raking the lugger fore and aft. The next instant the helm was again put up, or the lugger would have run into her stem on. Instead of this, striking on the counter, she ranged up alongside. A large body of men were seen grouped on the forecastle armed with pikes and cutlasses. The moment the sides of the two vessels touched, with loud shouts, led by one of their officers, they leaped on board, many to meet their doom, for before they reached the deck they were cut down by the stalwart arms of the British seamen. Others followed, but, met with a bristling array of pikes and cutlasses in their faces, they dared not spring from their own bulwarks. The men aft, under the command of Lord Reginald, had been keeping up a warm fire of musketry, when the lieutenant, turning his head, saw a party of the enemy kept in reserve, about to board the cutter aft. He instantly sprang towards the threatened point, followed by several who had gallantly been keeping the first party of boarders in check. Among them was Dick Hargrave and several of his companions. Leading the French boarders was a big fellow with huge bushy whiskers, and a red handkerchief tied round his head. With a sword of a size which few men could have wielded, he made a desperate slash at the lieutenant, which would have brought him to the deck, had not Dick sprang forward and, interposing his cutlass, dealt the next instant such a blow on the sword arm of the giant, that the fellow's weapon dropped from his hand. "Thank you, my good fellow, I saw what you did," said the lieutenant. "Now lads, we will drive these Frenchmen below, as we promised them. All of you follow me!" and, led by the lieutenant and Dick, the English crew threw themselves on the lugger's deck, trusting rather to their cutlasses and stout arms than to any other weapons. Voules, with those who had remained on the cutter's forecastle, now gained a footing on the fore part of the lugger's deck. Her crew fought bravely, but besides their big officer, many of them were cut down. Inch by inch the lieutenant and his men made their way forward, until the quarter-deck was cleared, the Frenchmen being either killed or wounded, or driven down the main-hatchway or overboard. One of their officers alone remained alive, and, seeing that all hope of gaining the victory was lost, he shouted out "We surrender!" Dick, who knew the meaning of the cry, repeated it in English, and running aft to the peak halliards, quickly hauled down the Frenchman's ensign. "Well done, my lad!" cried Lieutenant Mason. "I'll not forget you." The Frenchmen, who had hitherto kept their cutlasses in their hands, threw them on the deck, asking for quarter for themselves and their companions below. Their officer, coming aft, surrendered his sword. Those below now being called up one by one, were transferred to the cutter's hold, and Mr Voules, with eight men, including Dick Hargrave, was sent on board the lugger to navigate her into Plymouth. "You will keep close to me, Mr Voules," said Lieutenant Mason, "for I have as many prisoners on board as I can well manage, and should they be disposed to rise upon us they might succeed if we don't keep a bright look-out." The French privateersmen were indeed a very rough-looking set of fellows. By the way they had fought they showed that they were capable of daring and doing any act of violence. Although nearly twenty had been killed or wounded, they still far outnumbered the cutter's crew, now reduced by three killed and five wounded, as well as by those sent on board the lugger. The two vessels were soon separated, though they kept as close as they could together. Voules and his men had enough to do, heaving the dead overboard and attending to the wounded, while they had to wash down the bloodstained decks. Some of the rigging, too, required knotting and splicing, and several shot-holes had to be plugged in the vessel's side. It was the first command Voules had ever enjoyed, and he walked the deck with his spyglass under his arm, issuing his orders in an authoritative tone. At last his eye fell upon Dick, who was engaged in some work which it appeared he was not doing according to the midshipman's notion of the way it ought to be done. "What are you about there, you lubberly hound?" he shouted out, springing up to him with a rope's end. Dick leaped out of his way, and the uplifted rope fell on the back of another man, who turned round with a look of no little astonishment. "I beg pardon, sir, but you hit somewhat hard," said the man. "I'll splice this here rope for the lad, for if he's not quite up to it, he knows how to use his cutlass, at any rate. If it hadn't been for him, our commander would be among those poor fellows who have lost the number of their mess in this here fight." "Belay the slack of your jaw, fellow!" exclaimed Voules, turning away. The man thrust his tongue into his cheek as he caught the eye of another seaman standing near him. Dick kept out of the midshipman's way as much as he could, though he continued actively engaged as before. His spirits rose with the feeling that he was at liberty, and that he had gained Lieutenant Mason's good opinion. "I wish that I had been allowed to remain on board the cutter. I could serve under her commander, and do my duty. But when I get on board the frigate, all will be changed, I fear," he said to himself; "however, I must not think about that. I must do my duty as well as I can now, and maybe he'll speak a word for me, though I have little to expect from such fellows as Mr Voules and his friend." The breeze continued, The Start was passed, the Eddystone light came in sight. No one on board the vessels turned in. The whole crew on board the lugger could only just manage her sails, while that of the cutter were required to keep a watch on the prisoners. The two vessels kept close together, Voules every now and then hailing the cutter, to learn if all was right on board her. The lugger had twice to shorten sail, or she would have run ahead. Dick, as he walked forward, kept his eye on the cutter. The idea had come into his head that the Frenchmen might rise on their captors. He had formed a higher estimate of their courage than had most of his shipmates. The lugger was now about twenty fathoms off on the cutter's quarter. Voules, who had become very hungry, telling the man at the helm to keep the vessel as she was going, dived below, in the hopes of finding something to eat. Two or three of the men, following his example, had gone below, with the same object in view. Dick, who was standing on the lugger's forecastle, with his eye turned towards the cutter, suddenly saw a flash, though there was no report. This was immediately followed by shouts and oaths. "Starboard!" he cried out to the man at the helm; "there's something going wrong on board the cutter." The lugger was just then feeling the breeze, and forging ahead. This brought her bows close to the cutter's side. Dick could see that a struggle was going on around the main hatchway, up which a number of figures were forcing themselves. His cries brought the lugger's men forward. To lash the two vessels together was the work of a moment, and then he, with five of his shipmates, leaped down on the cutter's deck. Their arrival turned the scales in favour of the crew, who, surprised by a sudden uprising of the French prisoners, were struggling hard to keep them down, several having incautiously unbuckled their cutlasses while engaged in repairing the rigging. Lieutenant Mason and Lord Reginald were aft, at supper. So sudden and silent had been the rising, that they had only just before reached the scene of action when the lugger ran alongside. "Thank you, Voules; you came in the nick of time," cried Lieutenant Mason, when the Frenchmen were forced below. Voules made no reply. He had been busily engaged in the lugger's cabin, and was not aware of what had taken place until all was over. "It was this here lad, sir, who did it," exclaimed the seaman who had received the blow aimed at Dick's shoulders; "he see'd what was happening. If it hadn't been for him, no one else would have found it out." "Thank you, Richard Hargrave; that is the second time to-day you have rendered me good service," said Lieutenant Mason. "Richard Hargrave!" said Lord Reginald; "he is the last person I should have thought likely to do anything worthy of praise." "Depend upon it, your lordship will find there is something in that lad, if he has the opportunity of proving it," observed Lieutenant Mason. No lives had been lost in the outbreak. Order was quickly restored, the lashings cast off, and the lugger's crew returning to her, the two vessels pursued their course as before. The Frenchmen now saw that all hope of escape was gone, and quietly submitted to their fate. The night was sufficiently light to enable the cutter and her prize to make their way up Plymouth harbour. Before the day broke they were both safe at anchor in Hamoze, close to where the _Wolf_ lay. Soon after sunrise Lieutenant Mason, with the two midshipmen he had brought for the frigate, went alongside her. Captain Moubray, who was on board, at once desired to see him. Having given an account of the capture of the lugger and described the good conduct of the pressed men, and especially mentioned Richard Hargrave, he added, "He saved my life, sir, in boarding the lugger, and afterwards, when the Frenchmen were on the point of breaking out of the hold, he brought the lugger alongside just in time to enable us to drive them below without bloodshed. He had, I understand, deserted from the frigate, but as he was in the first instance pressed, I trust that you will pardon him, and judge rather by the way he has lately behaved than his past conduct." "I'll take the account you give into consideration, Mr Mason," answered the captain. "To prevent desertion, it is absolutely necessary to punish those who are retaken; but I should be very unwilling to do so in this instance. I will see this Richard Hargrave, and if I can overlook his offence without injury to the discipline of the ship, I will gladly do so." With this promise, Lieutenant Mason was obliged to remain satisfied. It was all he could do to show his gratitude to Dick for saving his life. He had, however, several duties to perform--to get rid of his prisoners, and to hand the lugger over to the prize agents. On paying his respects to the admiral, he received many compliments on his gallantry, and a promise that his conduct would be duly reported. He then mentioned Dick Hargrave's conduct. "Very praiseworthy," observed the admiral. "I am glad you have spoken of him to Captain Moubray, who will doubtless see that he is rewarded, and keep an eye on him in future." Dick, soon after he got on board, fell in with Ben Rudall. Ben looked very downcast. "Sorry to see you back, Dick," he said. "What has happened? Did you manage to get home and see my old woman, and give her the money? or did they catch you afore, and take it from you?" Dick briefly explained all that had happened, and gave an account of the action with the lugger, and how the lieutenant had spoken of him. "That's good luck for you. It may save you from what I got. I thought I was safe off, but I was brought back, and had a taste of the cat in consequence." Dick received a very different greeting from what he had expected. The news of his behaviour had spread from mouth to mouth, and he was looked upon by his messmates in a far better light than formerly. Seamen are always ready to acknowledge merit, and his attempt to desert was overlooked, especially when it was known among the men that he had been put up to it by Ben Rudall. He was naturally somewhat nervous as to how he might be treated by the captain, not being aware that Lieutenant Mason had spoken in his favour, for he had no hope that Lord Reginald or Voules would have mentioned his conduct on board the cutter. At length his name was called along the decks. He hurried aft. The master-at-arms, who had been looking for him, told him that he was wanted on the quarterdeck. He screwed up his courage to brave the worst. He found the captain and first lieutenant standing aft, as he approached, hat in hand. "Richard Hargrave, you entered some time back on board this ship, and deserted. You made no attempt to return of your own accord, and were retaken. You know the punishment, and discipline requires that it should be inflicted," said the captain in a stern voice. "I was pressed against my will, sir; and I did my duty in the action with the French frigate which we took. But I wanted to see my mother and blind sister, and I ran, and can't deny it. Now I've been brought back, I'll try to do my duty. That's what I've got to say, sir." "Have you nothing more to say?" asked the captain. "Yes. When I was set free, I did duty on board the cutter, and helped to take the French lugger. The commander says I saved his life; and afterwards, when I was on board the prize, it was through me that the lugger was brought alongside the cutter, and the Frenchmen, who were rising on her crew, were overpowered." "You acted well, then, on both occasions?" said the captain. "Yes; I did what I thought was my duty," answered Dick. "Still, you do not deny that you deserted, and had no intention of returning?" observed Captain Moubray. "I cannot deny it, sir," said Dick. "You know that desertion is always punished by flogging?" said the captain. "Yes," answered Dick; "if it were not for the disgrace I shouldn't mind it." "It is a greater disgrace to desert your ship," said the captain; "but discipline must be maintained, although, considering your gallant conduct on board the cutter, I would gladly overlook your crime." Just as Dick was expecting to hear his sentence pronounced, he was conscious that some one, who had come up, was standing by his side, and glancing round, he saw Ben Rudall. "Beg pardon, Captain Moubray, for speaking, but I makes bold in this here case to come for'ard, as I knows more about the desertion of this lad than any one else," said Ben, giving a pull at his hair. "I put him up to it, as I had been the cause of his being taken, and as I knowed that he is the only son of his father and mother, they would be main glad to have him back again; and I had made up my mind to go too, as I have a wife and children at home waiting for me, but I was taken and brought back." "Then you merit the punishment more than he does," said the captain. "That's just it, sir; and I axes the favour of being flogged instead of him. My hide is tough, and can bear it; but his is young and tender, and ain't been accustomed to hard blows." The captain looked greatly puzzled. He was struck by Ben's magnanimity, if so it could be called, in being ready to sacrifice himself, and was therefore unwilling to punish him; yet the crime of inciting another to desert was greater even than the act of desertion, and he felt, as the man had acknowledged it, that he ought to be punished as a warning to others. The first lieutenant relieved him of his dilemma by observing that, "That man has already been flogged for attempting to desert, and I may venture to think that it would not do to punish him again for the same crime." "You are right, Mr Curling. The discipline of the ship will not suffer, should I overlook this lad's offence in consideration of the gallantry he has displayed." "I feel sure of it, sir. It would do more harm to punish than to pardon him." "Go forward, my man," said the captain, addressing Rudall. "I have heard what you say about this lad, and let it be known among the men, that although he is let off this time, I will not again pardon any attempt at desertion, whatever may be the excuse offered." Ben, pulling a lock of his hair, obeyed the captain's orders, and went forward, exhibiting very little trace of the lawless, vaunting smuggler he had appeared to Dick on board the _Nancy_. "And now, Richard Hargrave," said the captain, addressing Dick, "you made a bad commencement by committing a grave crime, but you have shown that you are capable of performing your duty well and gallantly. Your late conduct atones in a great measure for your previous behaviour; and as you know what your duty is, I would urge you to perform it, in spite of the bad example or advice of such associates as may try to lead you into evil. Remember that the eyes of the officers will be upon you, and I shall be glad to hear a favourable report of your conduct." Dick, grateful to the captain for pardoning him, and especially for the last encouraging words which he had spoken, could with difficulty refrain from bursting into tears. His breast heaved, a choking sensation came into his throat, and he was unable to utter a word beyond "Thank you, sir; thank you, sir;" and making the usual salute, he turned round and hurried below. CHAPTER TEN. AN EAST INDIAN CONVOY--TOADY VOULES TURNS NURSE--FAIR RUN TO THE CAPE-- FEAR OF PRIVATEERS--CARELESSNESS--A STRANGE SIGNAL--MIDNIGHT ATTACK-- TIMELY ASSISTANCE--TREACHERY--LORD REGINALD IN COMMAND OF THE PRIZE-- TREATMENT OF THE MARIA'S CREW--DISCONTENT--A STERN CHASE IS A LONG CHASE--OBSTINACY OF THE YOUNG LORD--VOULES'S ADVICE NEGLECTED--A CALM-- BURSTING OF THE HURRICANE--WRECK OF THE PRIVATEER--WASHED ASHORE. A few days after Lord Reginald Oswald and Richard Hargrave returned on board the _Wolf_, she went out of harbour and came to an anchor in Cawsand Bay, where she, with another frigate, surrounded by a fleet of merchantmen which they were to convoy to the East Indies, lay waiting for a fair wind. Dick had never seen so many ships together. To his eyes they presented a grand sight, as with colours flying and sails loosened from the yards, they were prepared to obey the signal for getting under way. He felt proud of belonging to one of the ships which had charge of so many fine vessels, many of them capable, it seemed to him, of coping with even the enemy's men-of-war. The wind suddenly came round to the northward. The _Wolf_ fired the signal gun, the anchor was hove up, her canvas was let fall and sheeted home, and she glided out of the Sound, followed in rapid succession by the merchant vessels; the _Ione_, the other frigate, bringing up the rear and acting as whipper-in to the fleet, which, as they spread out on their course down the British Channel, with their snowy canvas extended below and aloft, seemed increased in number. The signal midshipmen had work enough to do in watching the merchant vessels, and in hoisting and hauling down the bunting as the requisite signals were made, while both frigates were continually firing their guns to hasten on the laggards, or to make the faster sailing ships shorten sail. Rapid voyages were not expected to be made in those days, for the more nimble-heeled had to wait for the slower-sailing craft, while the men-of-war had to keep the whole of the vessels under their charge in sight, and as close together as circumstances would allow. The midshipmen had assembled for dinner in their berth on the day the fleet sailed, with the exception of those on duty. "Faith, Ludlam! I thought you'd have been our new third, rather than Oswald, who hasn't been in the service half as long as you have, and isn't as good a seaman by a long score," said Paddy Logan. "It's my ill luck; I've not got a marquis for a father, and must submit," answered Ludlam, shrugging his shoulders. "It's a crying shame, I say. Oh! you should have seen him come on board last night, with his new-fledged honours thick upon him, in the shape of an epaulet on his left shoulder. How he strutted about the deck, with a shaggy Newfoundland pup running after him! and how he shook hands with Curling and Jager, giving a nod to the master and old `cheese-parings,' as if he considered them scarcely worth his notice, though he did condescend to offer the tips of his fingers to Renton, our new lieutenant of marines, and to Dr O'Brien! I say, old Voules, I thought he was going to cut you altogether; but perhaps he'll honour you by giving that yelping pup of his into your charge to dry nurse. You'll not have many opportunities of paying court to him if he treats you in the fashion he does others." "I pay court to Lord Reginald Oswald! never did such a thing in my life," answered Voules, blushing to the forehead. "But you are mistaken, Paddy, as to the way he treated me. If you had seen him afterwards, you would have said that he was as friendly as ever, only now, as he has become a gun-room officer, he is of course obliged to keep up a certain amount of reserve." "Reserve! do you call it?" cried Tommy Shackel. "He glanced at me as if he had never seen me before, and when I went up to him, and put out my hand, he drew back with a look of astonishment at my audaciousness, I suppose, as he thought it." "You fellows shouldn't speak of Lord Reginald in the way you are doing," exclaimed Voules. "I consider he was an ornament to our mess while he remained in it, and it is but natural that his father the marquis should get him promoted as soon as he was eligible. As a friend of mine, I cannot allow him to be spoken of disrespectfully." There was a general laugh at this remark. "Faith! an' who's speakin' disrespectfully of him?" asked Paddy Logan. "Sure, we're only saying that he's inclined to give the cold shoulder to those he looks upon as his inferiors in rank. And the belief is, Voules, that he's going to throw you overboard, notwithstanding all the court you paid him." "I say I never did pay him court," said Voules, emphatically. "He did me the honour to select me as his friend, and I fully believe that he intends to treat me as a friend in future." "`The proof of the pudding is in the eating!'" answered Paddy. "As I said, Voules, to show his affection, I have no doubt he'll make you dry nurse to that pup of his. Faith! what an honour it will be!" At this last remark, Voules was nearly boiling over with rage, but just then, as the whole mess was against him, he saw that it would not do to give away to his feelings, and Paddy Logan continued-- "When you last accompanied Oswald--I mane his lordship--to Elverston Hall, you thought instead of joining us again, you would have got your promotion, as you always boasted that the marquis had promised to obtain it for you." "I boasted of no such thing!" cried Voules, scarcely able longer to restrain himself. "I merely said that the marquis had promised to give me his interest as soon as his son had been promoted. Before many months are over, I expect to get my step and be appointed to some ship on the East Indian station." As may be supposed, his messmates watched him whenever he was speaking to Lord Reginald, to observe the terms he was on. Voules was evidently himself not very confident about the matter. Instead of taking his arm and walking up and down the quarter-deck, on the larboard or lee side, as he had been accustomed to do, he approached the lieutenant with the usual mark of respect shown by an inferior to a superior officer, always addressing him as "My lord," and looking highly pleased on all occasions when spoken to. It was asserted in the berth that there must have been some difference between them, or that Voules had offended the young lord, but what it was no one could exactly tell. However, by his humble conduct, Voules won his way back into the good graces of Lord Reginald, who did not find either of his brother officers or the lieutenant of marines or purser very genial companions. The two lieutenants were middle-aged men, who had gained their present position by long service and hard work, and they looked with a jealous eye on one who had been placed on the next ratline below them, over the heads of many older men than himself. The marine officer was a married man, rather grave and saturnine, and the purser had Republican tendencies, though he did not exhibit them except in the expression of his feelings towards lords and big-wigs in general. Thus Lord Reginald was induced to seek the society of Voules and his former messmates more than he otherwise might have done. As Paddy had surmised, Lord Reginald did actually tell Voules that he should be much obliged if he would look after his pup Neptune, and the toady was frequently seen carrying its food to the dog, washing and brushing it, and attempting to teach it various tricks. Before long a drawing appeared, with Voules dressed as a nurse, a mob cap on his head, a bowl of pap by his side, from which, spoon in hand, he was feeding the puppy on his knees, while a figure, which could not fail to be recognised as that of Lord Reginald, was standing by, saying, "You make a capital nurse, and I shall be happy to recommend you to a similar situation." It was handed about among the members of the mess, until somehow or other it reached the gun-room. When Lord Reginald saw it, he laughed heartily, and declared that he must show it to poor old Toady. He occasionally dined in due course with the captain. On such occasions his rank enabled him to speak more familiarly than any of the other officers would have done, with the exception perhaps of the first lieutenant. Captain Moubray was not the man to have allowed him to take the slightest liberty on duty. Lord Reginald had seen Dick Hargrave, with the other men from the cutter, come on board, and as he eyed the young sailor the ill feelings with which he had before regarded him regained their ascendancy in his bosom. Dick would willingly have kept out of his way, but in the course of duty they were constantly brought together, when he saw by the glances the third lieutenant cast at him, and the tone of his voice, that he was as much disliked as ever. His own proud spirit was aroused. He could not help often returning glance for glance, though he kept his lips closed to prevent himself saying anything which could be taken hold of. Lord Reginald never addressed him by name, but frequently shouted at him, and bestowed epithets of which--"You lazy hound!" "You skulking rascal!" were among the least offensive. Dick bore this as other men had to bear it from their officers in those days, and although from any one else he would have been very indifferent to such treatment, he felt little inclination to brook it from one whom he considered had so wronged him. It must not be supposed that Lord Reginald fancied that he was acting in a revengeful spirit towards Richard Hargrave. He considered that he had formed a correct opinion of Dick, whom he looked upon as a daring young ruffian, and that Captain Moubray had acted unwisely in not punishing him for deserting the ship. He ventured, even, after introducing the subject of desertion, to express his opinion of Richard Hargrave, Ben Rudall, and other men of extremely doubtful characters whom he classed together. "They come from my part of the country," he observed, "and are all smugglers to the backbone, ready for any sort of outrage. At one time my father lived in dread of having his house burnt down by them, so fearful were the threats of vengeance they uttered in consequence of his determination of putting a stop to their illegal practices. That young Hargrave was a poacher as well as a smuggler, and nothing but strict discipline can keep him in order." The captain bit his lip, for he could not fail to see at what the third lieutenant was driving. "They cannot poach or smuggle here, and the daring and hardihood they have exhibited in their illegal calling may be turned to good account," he answered. "They are the fellows to send on any dangerous or difficult undertaking, and we may feel very sure that they will not show the white feather." "Young Hargrave is a desperate ruffian, notwithstanding, and I wouldn't trust him," muttered Lord Reginald. "He has shown his ruffianism by acting very gallantly on two occasions, I understand," observed the captain. "I wish we had a couple of hundred young fellows on board of the same description. After a few months' training they become prime seamen, and will fight their guns to the last." Under ordinary circumstances, during a long voyage, time would have hung heavily on the hands of the officers, but with a large convoy to look to, there was plenty to do at all hours of the day and night. Not only had the merchantmen to be watched, but a bright look-out had to be kept for strange sails, especially for any daring privateers, who, tempted with the prospect of obtaining a rich booty, might pounce down on some unfortunate trader during a dark night and carry her off. This had actually been done on several occasions, and Captain Moubray endeavoured to impress upon the masters of the vessels under his charge the importance of sailing in due order together, and keeping a strict watch at night. The convoy hove to off Saint Helena, to obtain fresh provisions and water. The line was passed without any enemy having been encountered, when, falling in with the south-east trade wind, they got well to the southward, after which with a fair breeze they stood to the eastward on their passage round the Cape of Good Hope. It was considered advisable not to put into Table Bay, to avoid the risk of information being given to the enemy of their whereabouts. Unusually fine weather had hitherto been enjoyed, and the ships keeping well together at length entered the Indian Ocean. Although the masters of the merchantmen generally strictly obeyed orders, there were one or two who caused more trouble than all the others put together, by sometimes carrying too much sail and getting ahead of the convoy, sometimes too little and lagging astern, knowing that they could always regain their position. This occurred especially at night, when the skippers, wishing to save their crews the trouble of making sail, would wait until daylight to do so. One evening a strange sail had been seen to the northward, and Captain Moubray had ordered the _Ione_ to go in chase and ascertain her character, while he shortened sail so as to bring the _Wolf_ on the weather quarter of most of the ships. At dark the _Ione_ had not returned, though Captain Moubray ordered a look-out to be kept for her, expecting every moment to see her signal. At the same time, of course, a constant watch was kept on the various vessels of the convoy, which could be seen like so many dark shadows gliding over the ocean to leeward, each carrying a light to show its position. It was blowing a fresh breeze from the north-west, but there was not much sea on. The captain frequently came on deck, inquiring whether the _Ione_ had yet shown her number. The same answer had been returned that no light had been seen to windward. He was pacing the quarter-deck with his night-glass in his hand, when the sound of a gun, which seemed to come up far away from the southward, reached his ears. "What can that be?" he asked of the first lieutenant, who just then joined him. "That's more than I can positively say," answered Mr Curling. "It must be a signal from one of the convoy, something must have happened to her, and she wishes to draw our attention." While he was speaking the sound of another gun came up from the same direction. "We will run down and see what's the matter," said the captain; "but you need not turn the hands up at present." The helm was put up, the yards squared away, and the frigate, allowing the sternmost of the merchantmen to pass her, ran down in the direction whence the sound of the firing had come, and where, a long way off, a light could be seen, showing the whereabouts of the vessel supposed to be in distress. Several times the sound of a gun was heard, and the frigate, as she drew nearer, returned the signal. All eyes were directed towards the light, when flashes were seen, the rattle of small arms was heard over the clashing of cutlasses, and some declared that they could distinguish the shouts and cries of men engaged in mortal combat. "There can be no doubt as to what is passing. Turn up the hands, Curling. There seems to be either mutiny on board the ship, or some other vessel has run her aboard. If we attempt to go alongside with this sea on, we shall too probably sink both together, while if we fire into one, we may injure our friends. We must board her in the boats. We will stand on, shorten sail, heave the ship to, then lower them and let them drop alongside." "Ay, ay, sir," said the first lieutenant, and immediately issued the necessary orders. So fiercely engaged all the time were the two vessels, that no signal was made by the English merchantman to show that she was aware help was at hand. The captain's orders were quickly executed, and the frigate now being on the weather bows of the two ships, the boats were lowered and placed under the command of the second and third lieutenants, Mr Bitts, Voules, Paddy Logan, and another midshipman, with a party of marines, going in them. They had not far to pull, for the vessels going ahead, the boats dropped alongside the English merchantman, which was to windward. Led by Mr Jager, Lord Reginald and Mr Bitts quickly clambered up her side, and reached her deck, where a fierce struggle was taking place, the enemy having boarded and almost overcome her crew, who, however, though many of their number had fallen, were still struggling manfully. They cheered as they discovered the timely assistance which had arrived. Mr Jager and his party furiously attacking the enemy, soon turned the tide of war and drove them back to the starboard bulwarks, where the bravest in vain attempted to defend themselves. Those who could manage it leapt back on board their own vessel, others making the attempt were cut down, and not a man of the remainder escaped, all being killed or desperately wounded by the onslaught of the _Wolf's_ crew. The Frenchmen were in the mean time attempting to cast off the grappling irons, but in the darkness and confusion they were unable to succeed. "Follow me, my lads! We must board the enemy. It will not do to let her get away," cried the lieutenant. Dick, who was near him, with Ben Rudall and several other men, sprang into the main rigging of the privateer, for such she appeared to be, and clearing a space before them with their whirling cutlasses, leapt down on her deck. Others came after them. One party following Mr Jager, drove the enemy forward, where the larger part of them were assembled; while Lord Reginald and the boatswain attacked those on the quarter-deck, compelling them inch by inch to give way, until the poop was gained. The struggle did not last long. Cries for quarter were heard from the people forward as well as from the after part of the ship, but the crew of the English merchant vessel seemed little disposed to grant it, and continued hacking away at every Frenchman they could come up with. Again and again Mr Jager had to order the combatants to desist, and shouted to the Frenchmen to throw down their weapons. "Hold, my men! Don't you see the enemy have given in?" he exclaimed. "We are bound to show them mercy, as they ask for it." "It's mighty little we can see how to know friend from enemy," cried a voice from among the seamen. "Bring a lantern or two along here," cried the lieutenant, and he called out to the Frenchmen to throw down their weapons, while he peremptorily ordered his own men to desist from striking. Lord Reginald and the boatswain had in the mean time driven their opponents, the larger number of whom were officers of the ship, right aft to the starboard quarter, where they stood grouped together, defending themselves bravely until, seeing that all hope was gone, they too cried out for quarter. "Quarter! Yes, we'll quarter you!" cried Mr Bitts the boatswain. "Come on, lads! We shouldn't let such ruffians as these live." Lord Reginald, however, interposed, and speaking French well, directed his hard-pressed foes to throw down their swords and they should be safe. It was not without difficulty, however, that he restrained the merchant seamen from rushing in and cutting them down. Unfortunately, some Frenchmen who had leapt below, maddened by their defeat, fired up the hatchway, when the victors, springing down after them, followed them round the deck, killing all they met with. On the lanterns being brought, the deck presented a fearful scene, for more than half of the crew lay dead or desperately wounded. The survivors, with their officers, three of whom only had escaped, were mustered, and being deprived of the pistols and long knives generally worn in their belts, were conveyed across the deck of the trader into the boats. A savage, sunburnt crew they appeared as the light of the lantern fell on their countenances, and doubts were entertained whether they could claim to be even privateersmen, so greatly did they resemble the most desperate of pirates. The deck of the merchantman had even a more fearful aspect than that of her foe. Besides the Frenchmen who had been killed, and whose bodies lay thick under the starboard bulwarks, nearly a fourth of her people had been shot or cut down, while bravely defending their ship. Among them was the master, who had been nearly the last to fall, just before the man-of-war's men leaped on board. His body presented several wounds; one through his breast had evidently been fatal. He was a strongly built man, with a sunburnt visage. Probably he had been endeavouring, by his courageous resistance, to redeem his fault in not more carefully attending to his sailing directions. The first officer presented himself with his arm hanging loosely by his side, from a severe cut in the shoulder and another wound in his leg, while the second and third were both more or less hurt. The first officer informed Mr Jager that they had taken the privateer for one of the convoy. That when hailed a reply was given in English, and that the same voice inquired whether they had a surgeon on board, as their own had gone mad, and they had three sick people who required immediate attendance. While the surgeon was preparing to go, and they were thus thrown off their guard, the stranger was seen to be sheering alongside. The master, suspecting treachery, called up the watch below, and ordered all on deck to seize such weapons as were at hand to resist the boarders, while he directed the rest of the people to arm themselves. Scarcely were the crew thus partially prepared for an attack, than the stranger, running alongside, threw grappling irons aboard them. On this the master had the gun fired, which was first heard on board the frigate. His promptness had saved the ship. The crew well knew that they were fighting for their lives. As soon as one party had armed themselves completely they took the places of those who had received the first attack and had driven the enemy back. In vain, however, they attempted to cast off the grappling irons. The ships' yards had become locked, and no effort they could make could separate them. Thus, had not the frigate come to their assistance, they must have been taken. Whether or not the privateer would have succeeded in getting off with them was doubtful. As soon as the prisoners had been secured, Mr Jager ordered Lord Reginald and the boatswain to return on board the frigate and bring back the captain's orders. In the meat time he and the men remaining with him, aided by the crew of the merchant vessel, got the two ships free from each other, and, making sail, stood for the frigate, which, as soon as the boats got alongside, had kept away. Neither ship was injured, except where their sides had ground together, and the yards when interlocked had torn the canvas and carried away some blocks and ropes. Some time elapsed, during which the _Wolf_ had been making signals to the rest of the convoy, to put them on their guard, lest other ships of the enemy should be in the neighbourhood. Dick and Ben had remained on board the prize. "I say, I wonder who'll have charge of this craft," observed the latter to Dick. "I hope it will be Mr Jager. She's a fine little ship, carries twenty-four guns, and would make a capital cruiser. If the captain commissions her, and sends her away to play the same game on the enemy that she's been playing on our ships, we may chance to fill our pockets with prize-money. I think it's very likely, too, and if Mr Jager gets command we shall have an officer who'll keep his eye open, and not let the grass grow under his feet." "I should like it well enough, especially as we shall be free of that Lord Reginald and Toady Voules," said Dick. "They have been as bad as ever lately; one sets on the other. Voules knows that the third lieutenant hates me, and so, to curry favour with him, he loses no chance of bullying me. I have kept out of trouble as yet, but I don't know how long I shall be able to do so." "But what if the toady be sent with us? He is on board now, and may be appointed to do duty as first lieutenant," remarked Ben. "I shouldn't mind him alone," answered Dick. "When he hasn't his master to hound him on, he'll let me alone. He does it to please the other, and when Lord Reginald's eye is off him, he won't bother himself about me." As may be supposed, Ben and Dick had very little time for conversation. They were speedily called to trim sails, and the scanty crew of the prize, beginning to get weary from their constant exertions, were looking out for the frigate to heave to, a sign that the boats were about to return. She waited, however, until daylight broke, when once more, having gathered the convoy together, she hove to, and the prize coming up, doing the same, the boats were soon alongside. "I say, Ben," said Dick, as they approached, "it is my belief that Lord Reginald is to have command, for there he sits, with his dog by his side, and a big portmanteau between his knees. I'd sooner be out of this craft than in her. I hope we shall be sent on board the frigate again." Dick was right. Lord Reginald, his dog and portmanteau, were soon on board. He presented some papers to Mr Jager, who replied-- "Very well, I congratulate you on having so fine a command, and I confess that I wish I had been able to take charge of the prize, but as the doctor considers me unfit to be away from him, I must submit. Who are to form the prize crew?" "Voules and Lucas, the men on board, as well as the men I brought with me," answered Lord Reginald. "They'll do very well, and, as we are rather short-handed, no more could be spared from the frigate." "Then all I have to do is to wish you good-bye and a pleasant cruise. It's fortunate we had not to fire into her, or the vessel must have gone into harbour to refit. Now she's as well able to keep the sea as she ever was." "I hope her late master was a man of taste, and has some good curry and plenty of cuddy stores," said the young lord, laughing; "and I say, Jager, I wish you'd ask the captain to send me back the French cook. He'll know best how to dress his own provisions, and I should like to keep a good table while I am on board." "I'll do your bidding," answered Mr Jager, and shaking hands with Lord Reginald and his two subordinates, he returned in the boat to the frigate. The _Marie_ proved herself to be a capital sailer, a quality her crew had counted on when they ventured to attack the _Dunmore Castle_, expecting to be able to pillage her and get away before daylight. Lord Reginald walked the deck with a self-satisfied air, which was well imitated by Voules and Lucas. The young lord invited them into the cabin to mess with him, an honour they gladly accepted. "We shall have a jolly time of it," he said, "and I hope old Moubray will send us on an independent cruise when we get to Java." "He'll have to send us more men, then, for we are too short-handed to meet an enemy," said Voules; "otherwise, I'd rather not go at all." "No fear on that score," observed Lord Reginald. "We shall get as many as we want out of the merchant vessels. They must spare us their men, whether they like it or not. By-the-by, that young Hargrave is on board; I would have dispensed with his services. The very sight of him is annoying. He eyes me with the same daring, impudent look he always did, and I shouldn't be surprised if he and the other smuggler were to try and get up a mutiny on board, if they have the opportunity." "I'll see that he plays no trick of that sort," answered Voules. "I'll take the spirit out of him, depend upon it, and make him wish that he had remained on board the frigate." "I don't want him treated unjustly, or punished unless he gives occasion by his conduct," remarked Lord Reginald. "Oh, no, no," answered Voules, with a significant smile; "of course not. The truth is, I have a grudge against him myself. The other night I heard him, when he didn't know I was near, speaking of me as `Toady Voules.'" "Did he, indeed?" said Lord Reginald, leaning back and laughing. "Why, that's the name you've got in the mess. Ah, ah, ah! However, for one of the men to make use of it is next door to mutiny. They must not be allowed to speak so disrespectfully of their officers." Voules, who was considerably irritated by his superior's remark, did not fail to exercise his ill feelings on Dick, and not a day passed that he did not find some excuse for ill treating him and making him perform the most unpleasant duties. Voules, like other men of mean spirit, delighted in acting the tyrant; indeed, had he wished to create a mutiny, he took the most effectual means of causing one. He had now numberless opportunities which he could not have obtained on board the frigate. He was constantly abusing the men during every operation they were ordered to perform, though his chief displeasure fell on the heads of Ben and Dick, who were instantly placed on the black list, when their grog was stopped and they were compelled to walk the deck with a shot in each hand during their watch below, or other punishments were inflicted. Dick, as he had resolved, kept his temper and submitted without complaint to this injustice; but Ben nourished a spirit of revenge, and secretly formed a plan for wreaking his vengeance on the heads of his persecutors. With this object in view, he found out who among the crew were most dissatisfied and were likely to join him in his project. He did not, however, venture to speak to Dick. He fully believed that he should in time win him over. "He'll do something or other before long, which will rouse even his spirit," he said to himself, and "then he'll be more ready than any of us to do what I want." Although the provisions in the cuddy were of good quality, and there was a sufficient supply for ten times the number of the commander's limited mess, those of the crew were scanty and of bad quality, and it seemed surprising that Frenchmen should have consented to live upon such fare. The steward told the men of the abundance which existed aft, but when they complained through Mr Voules to Lord Reginald, they were told that the provisions intended for the cabin could not be spared, and that they must be content with what they had got. Neither did Dick nor any of his officers dream of what was going forward. The convoy was approaching its destination. The _Ione_ had rejoined the day after the capture of the _Marie_, but no other event of general importance had occurred. The fleet was now within two hundred miles of the Straits of Sunda, when from the masthead of the _Marie_, which was to leeward, a sail was seen to the southward. She immediately communicated this by signal to the _Wolf_, and received in return an order to chase the stranger and ascertain her character. The other part of the signal was either not seen, or misunderstood by Lucas. "Up with the helm!" cried Lord Reginald; "square away the yards! If the fellow doesn't appear to be too tough a customer, we will bring him to action and sail back in triumph." The young lord did not observe the expression which passed over Voules's countenance, but fully believed that they had been ordered to chase, and, if to chase, to fight the vessel in sight, should she not prove to be an enemy of overwhelming force. Though Voules had never shown the white feather, he was decidedly prudent, and he remembered the _Maria's_ limited crew, which, though sufficient to navigate her, was not strong enough to man the guns. The _Marie_ looked more formidable than she really was, and as she approached the stranger made all sail to escape. The latter soon showed that her sailing powers were not much inferior to those of the _Marie_, by keeping almost the same distance ahead as she had been when she first discovered that she was pursued. The _Marie_ soon lost sight of the fleet. Voules suggested that as there was no probability of coming up with the chase for many hours, that they should haul their wind and stand back. "Certainly I will not do that," answered Lord Reginald. "Captain Moubray must have known that we could not come up with her in a hurry, and intended that we should overhaul her. We are gaining on her, and if we continue the chase and do not lose sight of her during the night, we shall probably, some time to-morrow, get alongside." "If we get so far away we shall find it no easy matter to regain the fleet," observed Voules. "The chase may not prove to be worth the trouble we are taking to capture her." "That remains to be proved," answered Lord Reginald. "If you feel uncomfortable, turn in and go to sleep, perhaps when you awake you will find that we have fought an action, and taken the enemy." Voules reddened at the taunt. It was a cruel return, he thought, for all the flattery he had bestowed on the young lord. "I have no wish to avoid a fight, but I say again, there is no chance of its taking place for many hours to come, at least at the slow rate at which we are now overhauling the chase, and if we take her--which is problematical--we shall find it a difficult matter to rejoin the convoy." Lord Reginald was in one of his obstinate moods. The more Voules urged him to abandon the chase, the more determined he was to continue it. The wind remained fresh, and he asserted that they were gaining on the chase. Dick and Ben were stationed forward. "How soon do you think we shall come up with that craft?" asked Dick. "Maybe to-morrow and maybe the next day, if we follow her long enough and the wind doesn't shift. But if it does, and she slips away to windward, the chances are we shan't see her again. The weather doesn't look very settled to my eye, though I am not accustomed to these seas, but I have heard tell that it blows pretty strong hereabouts at times." The day wore on; still the chase kept well ahead. She was probably bound to one of the Dutch settlements in the Moluccas, and intended to pass through the Straits of Lombok or some other passage into those seas to the east of Java. Night came on. It was bright, and the stranger could still be distinguished as she glided over the moonlit sea. "Everything is in our favour," observed Lord Reginald to Voules; "but we must take care not to lose sight of her for a moment. Take care that sharp-eyed fellows are stationed on the forecastle. I must turn in for a spell, though do not fail to call me should anything occur." "Ay, ay, sir," answered Voules, though he grumbled not a little, as he went forward to see that his lordship's orders were carried out. He found Ben and Dick on the forecastle. "Can you see the chase?" he asked, pretending not to notice who they were. "Ay, ay, sir. It must be a pretty deal darker than it now is, not to see her," answered Ben. "Well, well, take care that you keep her in sight, and sing out if she changes her course." "Ay, ay, sir," answered Ben, and Voules went aft again earnestly hoping that thick weather would come on, and that the chase would be lost sight of. He could then throw the blame on the two look-out men, who would not be likely to escape punishment. They, however, during their watch, had no difficulty in keeping the chase in sight; when they turned in she appeared right ahead as clear as ever, with the moonbeams shining on her white canvas. When Lord Reginald came on deck at the commencement of the morning watch, the chase could still be seen, and he felt convinced that the _Marie_ had gained upon her. This made him determined to hold on. The sky, however, gave indications of a change of weather. Dark clouds were gathering in the horizon astern, while the wind came in fitful gusts, sometimes falling so much that the sails flapped against the masts. As the sun rose, the whole sky was suffused with a fiery glow, which, reflected on the ocean, made it appear like a sea of burnished copper. As the sun rose higher the heat became almost unbearable, growing more and more oppressive. "Does your lordship recollect that we are in the region of hurricanes?" asked Voules. "It would be prudent to shorten sail." "Not until the chase does, though. I wouldn't for much lose the chance of coming up with her. If we hold on for another two or three hours, we can get her within range of our guns. We have been gaining on her faster than ever lately." "If the wind catches us and whips the masts out of the ship, the `holding on' will do us little good," replied Voules. "Well, we will see about it by-and-by," said Lord Reginald, who was on the point of going down below to breakfast, the steward having just announced that the meal was ready. The midshipman Lucas was left in charge of the deck. Soon afterwards an old seaman, who acted as quartermaster, came up to him. Touching his hat, he said-- "Won't you order the hands to shorten sail, sir? We can't tell when we shall have the wind down upon us, and we shall be losing some of our spars, if no worse happens." "His lordship wants to come up with the chase first, though I should be glad to have some canvas taken in." Just then the look-out forward shouted, "The chase is shortening sail, and is hauling up to the northward!" Lucas ran aft and shouted down through the skylight, announcing what had occurred. "Shall we shorten sail, too, sir?" he asked. Voules sprang on deck, and looking round him, without waiting for Lord Reginald's orders cried out, "All hands shorten sail!" The royals were quickly handed, but there was brief time to stow the canvas before the wind filled the sails, and away flew the ship before it. The fore top-gallant sail, imperfectly secured, blew out, and in an instant was torn into shreds, which fluttered wildly for a few seconds, and became wrapped in inextricable coils round the yard. The courses were next brailed up, but it was hard work to stow them. Lord Reginald saw, when too late, that it would have been wiser to shorten sail before the wind struck the ship. All hands were now employed in reefing the topsails, for the masts bent like willow wands. Though the ship was kept before the wind, there was great risk of their being carried away. Two hands were sent to the helm, but even they had the greatest difficulty to steer the ship. The only hope of saving the masts was in keeping directly before the wind until the canvas could be taken off her. The mizzen-topsail had been furled. The main-topsail was already on the cap, when a loud report was heard as it was split, and fluttering violently threatened to carry away the men off the yard. The crew with their knives endeavoured to cut it adrift, when they were called down to assist in securing the foresail. It was of the greatest importance to keep head sail on the ship, lest she should broach to. The sea was rising, sending the spray in thick masses over the ship, obscuring all objects round her. Dick and Ben had been actively engaged aloft. "I say, Ben, what's become of the chase?" asked Dick, shading his eyes and looking out ahead through the driving sheets of spray. "That's more than you or I or any one else can tell. She may be where she was, or she mayn't. Mortal eyes can't see through that thick mist ahead, and we are not likely to set ours on her again even if she keeps afloat, and that's more than I can say any ship will do if it comes on to blow much harder than it does now. I thought I knew what a gale of wind was, but this beats all I have ever seen. Old Harry Cane rampaging about on board with a vengeance!" The hurricane had in truth burst on the _Marie_, and the utmost skill of the best seamen was required to preserve her from destruction. All that day she ran on before the wind. Spilling-lines had been got over the closely reefed fore-topsail, but even then it seemed that the sail would break away. With a report like a clap of thunder the mizzen-topsail was blown clean away from the bolt ropes. The royal masts were seen bending about like fishing-rods, first one way then the other. The lee clue of the fore top-gallant sail was blown adrift. Two hands went aloft to endeavour to stow it. One of the poor fellows, in making the attempt, was torn from his hold. A wild shriek was heard as he sank into the seething foam, without hope of being rescued. The other, pale and trembling, came down, leaving the sails fluttering wildly. Scarcely had he reached the deck than away went the fore top-gallant mast over the side. Lord Reginald bravely maintained his presence of mind, endeavouring to act for the best, as he stood holding on to the mizzen rigging while he issued his orders. Voules looked pale and anxious; he comprehended fully the dangerous position of the ship. Unknown islands were ahead, against one of which she might strike with but little warning. Again he urged the men to keep a lookout, not for the chase but for land, now so much dreaded. Lord Reginald came aft, and stood by his friend, "Well, Voules; things don't look promising," he said, in as cheerful a voice as he could command. "No, and they may look worse, if we find ourselves running down on one of the many islands which dot these seas." "We must keep a bright look-out, and haul up in time," replied the young commander of the _Marie_. "But if we do haul up with this hurricane raging and this sea running, we may drift on shore notwithstanding," answered Voules. "Our only chance will be to endeavour to get round the island, if we see it in time, and to anchor under its lee, if holding ground can be found, and wait there until the storm is over." "We will have a look at the chart, and ascertain how far off the land is," said Lord Reginald. Going below, he and Voules eagerly examined the chart. No islands appeared for some distance ahead. To the northward, was the east end of Java, with Bali, Sumbawa, and Floris, extending in a long line beyond it. Should the wind shift to the southward, they might run through one of the passages existing between those islands; but still, the ship was a considerable distance to the southward of them, and they hoped that the hurricane would cease before they were driven thus far. On returning on deck, the wind appeared to have increased rather than decreased. As they were standing together, looking anxiously at the bending masts, the remaining top-gallant sails were torn from their lashings, and before any hands could be sent aloft to secure them, the masts themselves were carried away and the lately trim ship looked now almost a wreck. To cut them clear was a work of no little danger. The men saw what was required. Several volunteered, notwithstanding the risk they ran, to go aloft. Among them was Dick. With knives and axes they cut desperately at the rigging, until, as the ship heeled over, they fell clear of her into the water. Relieved of so much top hamper, she appeared to be greatly eased. Another night was approaching, but the storm raged as furiously as before. All night long the ship ran on, the seas increasing in height, and threatening every instant to poop her. Although for a short time Lord Reginald turned in, yet neither he nor any one on board could obtain much sleep. Several times he came on deck, only to see the ship labouring on amid the foaming billows. Another morning dawned, the weather looking as wild as on the previous day. Few on board failed to ask themselves, "Shall we see another sunset?" Again and again Lord Reginald and Voules examined the chart, with anxious forebodings of evil. They saw that numerous islands and reefs lay ahead of them. Lord Reginald proposed hauling the ship up before dark, to escape the risk of running on one of them during the night. Voules feared that if it was done the canvas would not stand, and that she would then be drifted helplessly on any reef or island in her way. No sun was to be seen; the whole sky wore one uniformly leaden hue, while the dark seas of the same tint rose and fell, their tops covered with masses of foam which, blown off by the wind, filled the atmosphere. "Should there come a lull, we will haul up," exclaimed Lord Reginald. "We shall do it at our peril," observed Voules. "It must be done," was the answer. "Stand by to haul out the spanker! Starboard the helm!" The ship as she came to heeled over almost on her beam ends, while the seas broke over her, driving the masses of spray into the eyes of the crew, so that they could scarcely see a few yards before them, while the lee side of the deck was almost under water. Although no signs of a leak had hitherto been discovered, the acting carpenter, who had been ordered to sound the well, came aft with a pale face, announcing that a large quantity of water had found its way below. "Man the pumps!" was the answer, and the already hard-worked crew were soon labouring away to clear the ship. So often, however, were the nozzles of the pumps under water, that the men could not tell whether they were drawing or not, and the cry, "Hold on for your lives!" compelled them frequently to let go and clamber into the rigging, or hold on by the stanchions, while a furious sea swept over the deck, threatening to carry them away. Again darkness had come on. Except a closely reefed fore-topsail and mizzen-trysail, not a sail remained. She was furiously plunging into the seas, when once more a report was heard, and the fore-topsail was seen blowing away in shreds. Directly afterwards the spanker gaff came down, and now not a shred of canvas remained, the ship in consequence drifting bodily to leeward. Most of the crew were forward, the officers and some of the men remaining on the poop. Among the former were Dick and Ben. "I thought things were getting very bad," said Ben. "They could not be worse." "What, then, do you think will happen?" asked Dick. "Why, we shall either go down or be driven ashore. It matters little which, for if the ship strikes there's little chance of any of us reaching the land, with these seas breaking over her, and then sweeping everything before them. I know what it is on our own coast. With such a hurricane as we have got blowing, it will be ten times worse." "Then is there no chance of saving our lives if we strike?" asked Dick. "Our best chance is to get hold of a piece of wreck and hold fast to it. You may be washed on shore, or you may be carried out to sea--it is six of one and half a dozen of the other. You may depend upon it, there's a watery grave for some of us before the night is over." Dick felt his heart sink, but he remembered the prayers his mother had taught him. He tried to pray for himself; he knew, too, that she would be praying for him. His courage rose, he determined to struggle bravely for life. Ben advised that they should go forward and stick to the forecastle. "That generally holds together the longest, and will give us a better chance of life," he observed. "Don't let go until the ship breaks up, and then you will have no choice, and must do as I before told you." Dick replied that he would follow his advice, and they made their way to the forecastle. As may be supposed, it was only by speaking at the tops of their voices that they could make each other heard. Their sentences, therefore, were brief and to the point. In the mean time, Lord Reginald, with Voules and Lucas, clung on to the mizzen rigging; near them were gathered the few men who had come aft. Anxiously they looked to leeward, hoping against hope that they might still be at a distance from land. The stout ship was drifted on, the hapless people on board frequently being covered by the seas which broke over her. At last Voules uttered an exclamation of dismay. "I caught sight of land close under our lee; before ten minutes are over we shall be upon it," he cried out; "and Heaven have mercy on our souls!" "We must look out for a spot on which to run her, and if we lose her, we may save our lives," said Lord Reginald. But although the attempt was made, the ship would not answer her helm. An anxious gaze was cast at the dark shore, on which the roar of the breakers could be distinctly heard. All they could now do was to cling to the bulwarks until the fatal crash came, and after that, how long the stout ship would hold together it was impossible to say. Much would depend upon the ground on which she was thrown. If on rocks projecting from the shore, she would in all probability be soon dashed to pieces. Even the stoutest seamen held their breath as they waited for the inevitable catastrophe. Lord Reginald, as he stood on the deck, could feel the ship now as she rose, now as she fell in the trough of the sea, surging on closer and closer to the dreaded coast. Those agonising moments were not to last long. At length came a fearful crash. The mainmast, as if torn up by some invisible hand, fell over the side, the foremast and mizzenmast following in quick succession. "She's struck, she's struck! All's lost, all's lost!" cried several of the crew; while many who had hitherto shown ample courage in battle, shrieked out in their agony of fear. "Hold on, until the ship breaks up!" cried Lord Reginald. "We may have a chance of getting on shore in the morning." Though he gave this advice, he had little hope of its being followed. Sea after sea continued to dash against the ship, and he feared, from the cries which reached him, that many of his men were being torn from their hold and carried away. He could just distinguish Voules and Lucas clinging to the bulwarks a short distance from him. Now he cast his eyes on the dark shore with a line of foaming breakers between him and it. Then he looked seawards, and as he looked he saw an enormous black wave advancing, higher, it seemed to him, than any of its predecessors. On it came, and struck the ship, with a blow resounding louder than the loudest thunder. The centre of the ship seemed to melt away with part of the poop, carrying off several who had been clinging to it. No one could render help to another. It was each man for himself. He saw a figure, which he knew to be young Lucas, caught by the sea and whirled round and round. Voules still remained, holding on to the bulwarks. Then another sea came; he felt the poop breaking up beneath his feet. In another instant he found himself among the foaming breakers, surrounded by masses of wreck. He sank, but again coming to the surface, clutched a piece of timber. It was of too small a size to float him. He was rolled over and over, until compelled to let go. As he did so he saw close to him a large beam, with a bolt projecting from one end. Grasping the bolt, he got astride of the beam, being thus enabled to keep his body above the water, though he ran a risk of having his legs injured by the heavy pieces of wood dashing about on all sides. In vain he shouted, to ascertain if Voules or Lucas were near him. The only objects he could distinguish were the masses of dark timber amid the white, foaming breakers, and the outline of the rocky shore. It seemed even then doubtful whether he should ever reach that shore. Once, indeed, he fancied that he saw a human form clinging to a spar at no great distance from him, but unable to direct the movements of the piece of timber on which he floated, he could render no assistance to the hapless person, who returned no answer to his shouts. His own fate seemed uncertain. Should the timber be dashed against the rocks, he would in all probability be ground to pieces before he could escape, but on looking towards the land, he fancied that he could make out a sandy beach. He prayed that the timber to which he clung might be directed to it. Still, as he heard the fearful roar of the breakers, and watched the masses of foam which swept towards the shore, he felt the uncertainty that he should ever reach it. Several times he was nearly torn from his hold by the masses of wreck driven against him. His strength was decreasing. Another sea came rolling on, it might wash him from his hold. He clung to the bolt with all his might, and almost the next moment he felt his feet touch the ground. At first he was afraid of letting go. The second time he put down his feet he trod on the sand. Fearful that the beam which had carried him in safety might roll over and crush him, he let go, and making a last effort, struggled upwards. The foaming seas washed round his legs, and threatened to carry him back, but on he struggled, gasping for breath until the dry ground was reached, and then, by one strenuous effort, getting out of the reach of the water, his strength giving way, he sank to the ground, utterly exhausted. CHAPTER ELEVEN. DEATH OF VOULES--ALL LOST--DESPAIR OF LORD REGINALD--NEPTUNE--WATER FOUND--A MOURNFUL DUTY--BURYING THE DROWNED--REMORSE--THE RIVAL CRUSOES--THE LAST OF POOR BEN--STONE THROWING--NOTHING BUT CLAMS-- NEPTUNE AND THE PIGEON--THE BODY OF LUCAS DISCOVERED--GOOD INTENTIONS-- AN ANGRY MEETING--NEPTUNE'S DISLIKE TO SHELL-FISH--A PERILOUS SWIM-- LOOKING OVER THE ISLAND--ANOTHER STORMY ENCOUNTER--LABOUR IN VAIN--PRIDE AGAINST REASON--BOW-MAKING--NEP FINDS A TREASURE. Lord Reginald lay for some minutes on the beach utterly exhausted, but not senseless. He recollected vividly all that had occurred. So battered and bruised did he feel, it seemed to him that he had only escaped from drowning to die a more lingering death on the barren shore, or to be massacred by the savage inhabitants of the island on which he had been cast. "Is it my fate alone to have escaped among all the stout fellows who manned the ship?" he at length asked himself. "Perhaps even now some are struggling in the waves, and as I have been carried in safety to the shore, I ought to try and help them." This thought made him attempt to rise, and he found that he could do so with less difficulty than he had supposed possible. The wind had begun to fall almost directly after the ship had struck, but still the seas rolled in as heavily as before. He knew, weak as he was, should he venture into their power, that he might be lifted off his feet and carried away in their cruel embrace. On looking around he saw a mass of broken spars, torn canvas, and running rigging thrown up within his reach. On examining it he found that he could unreeve some of the rope. He set energetically to work. By using a knife which he fortunately had in his pocket, he was able to cut off several lengths, which, knotting together, formed a long rope. Taking three spars he forced them with all his might, in the form of a triangle, into the sand, and secured one end of the rope to the spar nearest the sea, while the other end he fastened round his waist. This done he was able to advance further into the water than he would otherwise have ventured to do. He stood listening and straining his eyes over the foaming masses which continued to roll up unceasingly before him. He could distinguish the black ledge upon which the _Marie_ had struck on one side, and on the other a lofty point which ran out to an equal distance forming the bay on the shore of which he had been thrown. The waters of the bay appeared still covered with floating masses of wreck tumbling and tossing about. While he was looking a crescent moon broke through the clouds, revealing to him for an instant what he supposed was the bows of the ship still holding together. The next instant the moon was obscured, and the object shut out from sight. Some of the crew might still be clinging to it, and if so he might not be left entirely alone. He shouted again and again, but no answer came; indeed, the roar of the breakers prevented his voice being heard at that distance. Some one might be clinging to any of the pieces of wreck floating about before him. He listened, and at length fancied that he heard a faint cry. He gazed anxiously in the direction from whence he believed it came. He had picked up a long stick, so that he might the better be able to resist the force of the breakers should they surround him, or prevent him being carried off as they receded from the beach. Again he shouted, and once more fancied he heard a faint cry. Yes, it was a human voice borne to him by the wind across the seething waters. He waited anxiously for the re-appearance of the moon, hoping that her light would enable him to discover the whereabouts of his shipmate, whoever he might be. He wished to save life, but he wished also to have a companion to share his misfortune. At length, the moon appearing, he saw a piece of wreck, to which a human being was clinging, being carried by every succeeding sea closer and closer to the beach. The man was evidently lashed to it, or he could not have clung on. Lord Reginald at once saw the difficulty there would be in extricating him before the beam was rolled over and over. He again got out his knife that he might cut the lashings. The beam was almost within his reach, he could clearly see that it bore a man who, however, neither cried out nor made a sign that he was alive. "Still, the poor fellow may recover," thought Lord Reginald, and rushing forward as the next sea threw the piece of timber on the beach, he at once seized the inanimate form, cut the rope, and with a strength he scarcely believed himself to possess, dragged it up out of the reach of the water. As he did so he saw by the uniform that it was his own messmate Voules. He laid him on the dry beach, and having loosened the handkerchief round his neck, knelt down by his side, and endeavoured to restore him to animation by chafing his hands and chest. After he had been thus engaged for some time, he heard Voules emit a low sigh. "He is not dead, at all events, and may, I trust, be restored!" he exclaimed, resuming his efforts. Voules sighed again, but still lay without making any effort to move. Lord Reginald looked round to try and ascertain if any place which would afford him and his shipmate shelter from the night air, was near. He could only see black rocks rising up above the beach, though in one place there appeared to be an opening, but it was too dark to distinguish whether there were trees beyond. "It will never do to remain here all night," he said to himself; "it is still some hours off morning, and we both of us may perish." The effort he had to make to take care of his friend was of the greatest benefit to himself. It prevented his thoughts dwelling on his own sufferings. He tried to lift up his companion, to carry him in his arms, but his strength was insufficient, and after going a few paces he was obliged to let him sink again on the ground. "Voules, Voules, my dear fellow, do speak!" he exclaimed; "tell me where you are hurt. What can I do for you? You are safe on shore. If you could but arouse yourself, we might get under shelter." But Voules only gave an occasional sigh. He seemed too weak almost to groan. Again Lord Reginald attempted to carry him towards an overhanging rock which rose at some distance beyond the beach. In this he succeeded better than at first, and after stopping two or three times he reached it. To his satisfaction, he discovered that there was a small cave, the bottom covered with dry sand. This would, at all events, afford a more comfortable resting-place than the open beach, as well as shelter from the rain, which now came on in dense showers. It was so dark, however, that he could not see his companion's features. Seating himself by his side, he once more began to chafe his hands and breast, he then turned him on one side, when his patient threw up some of the water which he had swallowed. Thus relieved, Voules appeared to recover slightly. "You'll do well, I hope, my poor fellow, if you would but pluck up courage," said Lord Reginald. "When daylight returns we shall find some food and water." "I fear not," answered Voules, in a faint voice. "I am bruised all over, and I feel as if my right leg was broken." "I hope not," said Lord Reginald, examining the limb. To his dismay he found that Voules was right. "We must try and set it," he observed; "though it will prevent you being of much use for some time to come, you must not despair on that account. I earnestly hope that some of the men may have escaped to help us, though I could discover no one on the part of the beach where we were thrown." Voules groaned deeply. "I am much obliged to you, Oswald, for what you have done for me, but it is of no use. I almost wish that you had left me to perish in the sea, for I feel that I am dying. It is very terrible; I have all sorts of sins on my conscience. Then I think of how I encouraged you to get that young Hargrave and the older man Rudall carried off from their homes, and how they have both now probably been lost. It seems to me as if their deaths were at my door." "If they are at yours, they are at mine also," said Lord Reginald. "I dislike the fellows, and though I should be thankful if any of the crew escaped, I should not like to see their faces. The chances are they would wreak their vengeance on our heads, helpless as we are, without the slightest means of defence." "I should be thankful to think that we had not been the cause of their deaths," said Voules. "Well, well, don't talk about them, but try and get some sleep, old fellow; it will restore your strength more than anything else." Voules groaned. "I shall never sleep again, until the last sleep of all," he muttered. "Try, try," said Lord Reginald; "I'll sit up and keep watch." "Thank you," murmured Voules. Lord Reginald was silent, but Voules's heavy breathing and the low moans to which he gave vent, showed that his slumbers were troubled, if he slept at all. The young lord could understand how much his companion suffered from the pains which racked his own body, and yet, with the exception of the few bruises he had received, he was unhurt. For a long time he sat and watched, earnestly wishing for day, and at length he himself sank down on the sand and fell asleep. His dreams, too, were troubled. All the horrors of the shipwreck were ever present to his thoughts. Now he fancied himself struggling in the waves, now reaching the beach, but in vain attempting to climb up it, the seas carrying him back every time his feet touched the firm ground. He awoke with a start, fancying that Voules was calling him. The sun had risen, and the rays were streaming across the white sand in front of the cave. The storm had ceased, though the seas still came rolling sluggishly on, dashing into foam as they reached the beach. "Did you call, Voules?" he asked, raising himself on his elbow to look at his companion, who however made no answer. "I must not awaken him," he said; "sleep will do him more good than anything else. I must go out and try and find some fresh water and food of some sort." He got up on his feet; though he felt weak, he was able to walk. He was about to go out, when he cast a glance at Voules. He started back with horror, as he saw the pallid countenance before him, the glazed eyes staring wildly, the fallen jaw. "Can he be dead?" he exclaimed, stooping down. He could not discover the faintest breathing. He lifted an arm, it fell lifeless on the sand. "Voules, Voules!" he almost shrieked out; "speak but one word to me." No answer came from those open lips, and he saw too evidently that his companion was dead. The horrors of his situation burst upon him with more force than ever. He was alone in that apparently desert island; no one to consult with, no one even to speak to. He threw himself on the sand, and for some time lay almost as motionless as the inanimate form near him, believing that he himself would die. Then the desire to prolong his life returned. A burning thirst oppressed him; though he had eaten nothing since the previous day at noon, he felt but little hunger. He was about to leave the cavern in the hopes of discovering a spring, when he saw in the distance an object moving towards him. At first he thought it must be some wild beast, but presently his favourite dog, Neptune, hove in sight, and came rushing on, leaping up, uttering loud barks of joy, placing his paws on his shoulders, and trying to lick his face. "Where have you come from, Nep?" he asked. "Your coat is perfectly dry, you must have been on shore some hours." But Nep only wagged his tail, and bounded round and round him. Lord Reginald fondly patted the dog's head. "Thank Heaven, you have been saved, Nep. I have one trusty companion left, and I must not lose heart." The dog seemed to understand him, and redoubled his signs of satisfaction. Suddenly he stopped, and looked towards the body of Voules, then he approached it cautiously, and after examining it for a moment he set up a loud howl, and turning round, ran crouching back to his master, as if fully conscious of the fate of the unhappy young man. "Yes, he's gone, in truth!" said Lord Reginald. "You and I are now alone. We must set out to try and find a spring and some food, if they exist on this dreadful spot; but you don't look either hungry or thirsty. Perhaps you have found a spring. Come along, Nep; come along!" So saying, Lord Reginald, accompanied by the dog, directed his steps towards an opening in the line of cliffs which circled round the bay. As he advanced, the opening widened out, and to his joy he saw numerous cocoanut and other trees. At first he could discover no sign of a spring. "That verdure cannot exist without water," he said to himself; "there must be some near at hand. Surely, if it exists Nep will find it." As he advanced further he found himself in a small valley running directly up from the sea, and shortly afterwards his eye fell on the sheen of water. It appeared to be a stream running down the centre and losing itself in the porous sand before it reached the ocean. He uttered a cry of joy, and pushed forward. He was soon stooping down, lapping the water up eagerly with his hand. He then began to feel the pangs of hunger. The only fruit he could discover were cocoanuts, but they hung so high above his head that he had no hope of obtaining any. He was too weak to attempt climbing even the smallest of the trees on which they grew. He thought of various devices for bringing them down. He might manage to get some could he find a long thin line which, by means of a stone, he might throw over the boughs. Then he searched about for other food. He looked also anxiously for human habitations. The sun beat down with intense heat into the valley, and the tall trees afforded but little shade. He was compelled at length to retreat towards the cavern. That, at all events, would be cool, he thought. A few more cocoanut trees only had to be passed, when, just as he was going under the boughs of one, he saw a large brown mass covered with fibre lying before him. Though he had never before seen a cocoanut when growing in a wild state, he knew what it was. He seized it eagerly, and began tearing off the outer cover. Conveying it to the cave, with a piece of stone he broke off the top, and having swallowed the refreshing juice in the interior, he soon broke it to pieces so as to get at the flesh. With this he somewhat satisfied the gnawings of hunger. "Such food won't suit you, my poor dog!" he said, looking at Nep. However, the dog wagged his tail, and very readily swallowed a few of the pieces cut out of the shell, which his master threw him. He had now to consider what was next to be done. His eye fell on the body of poor Voules. "He was a miserable counsellor, and did me harm by attempting to flatter me; though I confess that I had but little real regard for him, I certainly wish that he was still alive; but as he has gone, I must endeavour to pay him the respect I would to any fellow-creature, and give him decent burial." Saying this, he got up and looked about to settle by what means he could accomplish his object. The shore was strewn with timber and pieces of plank of all shapes. Hunting about he soon found a piece which would answer his purpose, though had he possessed an axe he might have chopped it into a more suitable shape; as it was, however, it would have to serve his purpose. His next care was to select some fitting spot for the grave. He pitched on one under the cliff, where the sand appeared sufficiently soft, while the shape of the rocks around would make it easily recognised. He began to dig away, but the sand fell in almost as quickly as he shovelled it out of the pit, and he had greatly to increase its size before he could reach any depth. He felt sick at heart as he performed his unaccustomed task. Neptune stood by watching him, apparently understanding his object, although he could render no assistance. At last the grave was dug. His courage almost gave way as he prepared to place the body of his late companion--one whom he had known for so many years--in his last resting-place. While chafing Voules's chest he had observed a locket hanging to a riband. He undid it, that he might deliver it to his friends. On opening it he saw that it contained the miniature of a young and pretty girl. "Poor thing!" he said. "She thought him probably all that is brave and good. Now she'll value him the more because he has gone! I wouldn't undeceive her for worlds, though I have but little chance of ever being able to deliver this to his friends." He took his watch, and a few other articles. There was a pocket-book, but he had neither time nor inclination to look into it. Indeed, in all probability, whatever writing there was had been obliterated by salt water. Among other things was a small pocket spyglass, which was likely to prove useful. He found, on trying to lift the body, that his strength was insufficient for the task, so that he had to drag it by the collar of the coat to the edge of the grave, into which he managed to lower it. "Rest there, my poor shipmate," he said. "I little thought when we were last on shore, amusing ourselves to our hearts' content, that such would so soon be your end. Yet, what may be mine?" He rested for some moments, gazing with a sort of fascination on the dead body, unwilling to cover it up for ever from view. "It must be done!" he said at length, and he began to shovel in the sand, a task which was very quickly accomplished. "Now I am all alone, the sole inhabitant of this island. That, however, would be better than finding it peopled by a savage tribe, who would either kill me or make me work for them as a slave. Had I the strength, I would build a tomb of rock over him, but he'll rest well enough without it. I suppose there are no creatures which will come and dig him up." He would gladly after this have rested in his cave, for the rays of the sun, now high in the heavens, beat down with intense force on his unprotected head. At the same time, the pangs of hunger reminded him that he must go in search of more substantial food than cocoanuts would afford. He had heard that turtles laid their eggs on the sandy beaches of these islands, but whether he should find them at this time of the year, or whether the young turtles had been hatched and crawled away, he was utterly ignorant. As he walked along the shore, he carefully examined the sand, in the hopes of finding some mounds or the marks of turtles' feet to show where their eggs had been deposited, but not an indication of any sort could he discover. "I shall have to depend upon shell-fish," he said to himself; "there must be numbers sticking to the rocks, and I must try and get them off with my knife. I wish that I had some fishing-hooks and lines. By scrambling out to the end of a reef I might very likely catch as many fish as I require, but as I have not the hooks and lines, I must manage with what I can get." He sighed as he felt his helplessness. On looking along the beach he saw it covered with pieces of wreck as far as the eye could reach. He might at all events find something useful among the articles thrown up. He had not got far when he caught sight of a human form surging up and down, close to the beach. It might be some person who, having clung on to a piece of the wreck during the night, was attempting to reach the shore. He rushed forward to assist the man to land, but scarcely had he seized an arm than he saw that it was that of a dead body. He did not, however, let go his hold, but dragged it up on the beach. "I must bury the poor fellow, at all events," he observed, looking at the countenance of the man, who was one of the ordinary seamen. The discovery of the body made him look more narrowly along the beach, and he saw several others either thrown up, or floating close to the shore. The sight brought Richard Hargrave to his recollection. "He is probably among them," he thought, "and I was the cause of dragging him away from his home, prompted by my revengeful spirit and bad feelings. I am as guilty as if I were his murderer. I wish that he had made good his escape and remained at home, and I would give much now to know that he had reached the shore in safety, but that is not likely." He dragged up body after body, scanning their countenances anxiously, fearing that he should recognise that of Richard Hargrave. At last he came to one with grizzled hair and beard, which he recognised as that of the smuggler Ben Rudall, who had by his means been torn from his home. "Unhappy wretch! By the way Voules and I treated him he must have had a miserable life of it on board. I suspect that he and Hargrave, if they had had the opportunity, would have treated me as I deserve. Would that I could forget the past! However, I cannot let them lie here to rot." On counting the number of bodies he had hauled out of the water, he found that there were no less than five. The task was abhorrent to his nature. "I little thought that I should ever become a grave-digger!" he exclaimed, bitterly. "However, it must be done; I couldn't rest at night if I knew they were there. I only hope that the sea has washed away the remainder, that I shall not have to bury the whole of my crew; perhaps by that time I shall become accustomed to it, only every day will render the business more horrible." The young lord, however, managed to muster up resolution to commence the task. He went back for the piece of board which had served him to dig the grave of Voules, and commenced shovelling away the sand some distance above high-water mark. It would evidently require a large grave, and the task would occupy him some hours. The sun, which was intensely hot, beat down on his unprotected head, while the perspiration streamed from his forehead. At last he could work no more, and, supporting himself by the spade, followed by Neptune, he staggered to the nearest spot where he observed some shade beneath the cliff. As he threw himself on the ground, the dog lay down by his side with his tongue out, showing that he too felt the heat. Overcome with fatigue, he dropped into an uneasy doze, painful fancies filling his brain. How long he had thus remained he could not tell, when, on opening his eyes, they fell on a figure standing by the half-finished grave. His disordered imagination made him fancy that it was one of those he was about to bury who, recovering, had regained his feet. Or could it be a spirit? His eyes dilated as he gazed. The person, after looking into the grave for a few seconds, turned round and went towards where the bodies lay and then knelt down by the side of one of them. Lord Reginald, not seeing him, as he was concealed by the slope of the beach from where he lay, fancied as he gradually recovered his senses that he must have been subjected to some hallucination, and resolved to finish his task. "Come, Nep," he said, rising, "we must finish the work, terrible as it is!" What was his surprise to find that his dog had gone? He made his way back to the grave, keeping his head turned in an opposite direction from the bodies, unwilling to look at them from the sickening feeling which came over him when he did so. Descending into the pit he had formed, he began to throw out the sand. While thus employed he heard a voice close to him say-- "Shall I help you?" His first impulse was to spring out of the grave and express the joy he felt that one of his crew had escaped, but on looking up he saw Richard Hargrave standing near, with a piece of wood similar to the one with which he was employed. At first his feelings softened towards his enemy, for so he regarded the young seaman, but the next instant he fancied that he detected a look of scorn in his countenance. Still, he wanted to get the work done, and alone he could not accomplish it. He therefore answered, "Yes, you may fall to, for it is more than one man alone can do." Without exchanging another word, Dick leapt down into the pit and began shovelling out the sand in a far more effectual way than Lord Reginald had done. When the grave was of sufficient size, Dick got out and immediately went towards one of the bodies, beckoning his companion to assist him in carrying it to its last resting-place. Lord Reginald hesitated, but when Dick began to drag the body by the shoulders he took it up by the feet. One by one three of the other bodies were carried to the grave. Lord Reginald was about to lift up the feet of Ben Rudall, when Dick exclaimed-- "No, no; let him alone. We will give him a grave to himself. He was an old friend of mine, though he might have led me astray, and I want to pay him all the respect I can." Lord Reginald let the feet drop, and without speaking returned to the grave, where he began to shovel in the sand. Dick joining him, the task was soon accomplished. "As I undertook to dig this poor fellow's grave alone, I won't ask you to help me," said Dick, turning aside without attempting to exchange any further words with his companion. Lord Reginald, utterly exhausted, retreated to the shade of the cliff, calling in an angry tone to Neptune, who had followed Dick, to watch his proceedings. He observed that Hargrave wore a hat roughly made from palm leaves, and was thus able to endure the heat much better than he could. It did not occur to him that he possessed a handkerchief in his pocket which, had he bound round his head, would have afforded him some protection. At length he could endure the thirst from which he was suffering no longer, and getting up, endeavoured to make his way to the spring at which he had before obtained water. He reached it at last, and sank down by the side of the pool, scarcely able to lift the water with his hand to his parched lips. He succeeded, however, and felt somewhat restored. Nep showed how thirsty he was by lapping it up eagerly. He waited some time, half expecting that Hargrave would join him. He was too proud to call him, and inquire how he had escaped from the wreck, which he wished to know, as well as to ascertain if any one else had been saved. Even Neptune appeared surprised, and showed an inclination to start off every now and then and join Dick, who had become a great friend of his on board. All this time Lord Reginald had eaten nothing except the remains of the cocoanut. He was sensible that he was becoming fainter and weaker. Whether or not Nep had got any food when he disappeared, he could not tell, but from the way he observed Hargrave work he felt very sure that he, at all events, was not starving. He saw numerous birds of gay plumage flying among the trees, but he had no means of getting them. He thought that he might possibly knock some of them down. For this purpose he returned to the beach to pick up some pebbles. Having filled his pockets, he went back to the neighbourhood of the stream. Though he got frequently within reach of the birds, he could not manage to hit one of them. At last he had exhausted every one of his pebbles, and, prompted by hunger, was about to go back to obtain more, when he bethought him that by hiding behind a bush an unwary bird might come near enough to enable him to knock it down with a stick which he had picked up. He waited for some time. Though several birds came near--one a fine fat pigeon with beautiful plumage--they kept beyond his reach. At length, losing his patience, he threw his stick at a bird which had perched on a bough about twelve feet off. The bird rose, wagging its tail as if in derision, and flew off unhurt. Nep, who was by this time as famished as his master, showed his eagerness by dashing here and there after the birds, which flew near the ground. "It's of no use, Nep," said Lord Reginald; "we must try what the sea-shore will yield." They returned together to the beach. The tide was low and shell-fish--some of large size--clung to the rocks or lay on the sand. Supposing that the latter were dead or not fit to eat; he attempted to cut off with his knife some of those clinging to the rocks, a more difficult task than he had expected, and he blunted it considerably in the attempt. At last he got several off, and with these, as well as a few of the freshest looking which he had picked up on the beach, he returned to the cave. He nearly cut his finger in attempting to open them, and when he had succeeded in separating the shells of a couple, he recollected that he must cook them before they would be fit to eat. First he had to collect firewood. For this purpose he was compelled to go back to where he could obtain some dry branches, broken off by previous gales. While thus engaged, he saw some smoke in the distance. "That must be a fire kindled by that fellow Hargrave," he said to himself; "he probably has found something to eat, but I cannot go and ask him for a light, still less can I bring myself to beg for some of the food. Probably he would refuse me if I did. No, no, I will let him come to me and ask my pardon for his insolent behaviour." By exerting himself, the young lord collected a bundle of sticks. On his way he found another cocoanut, which prize he was glad to obtain, for it would serve as bread to help him swallow the shell-fish. With his bundle on his shoulders he returned to the cave. He unscrewed the object glass from Voules's telescope, but in vain tried to obtain a light. The sticks might have burned had a flame once been established. He had, therefore, to go back and search for dry leaves or moss, or some more inflammable substance. He found some fungus, which from its dry nature he thought would quickly ignite. With this and his arms full of leaves, he once more made his way back to his cave. The sun was by this time sinking low, and he was afraid after all that its rays would be too oblique to enable him to obtain a spark. He anxiously held the glass in its right position, and was thankful when he saw a fine line of smoke ascending; by blowing gently and placing some dry leaves above it, he at length obtained a flame, with which he set the pile of leaves he had placed under the sticks on fire. "I am now as well off as that fellow Hargrave," he said to himself, as he placed the shell-fish on the embers. He had never before attempted to cook anything, and had very little notion of how it was to be done. He saw the shells getting hotter and hotter, when on raking them out he found the interior burnt to a cinder. "Rather overdone," he thought; "I must not let them stay in again so long." He succeeded rather better with the next, but had to confess that they were very tough. Though his hunger was not satisfied, he had no inclination to eat more; having broken the shells, he bestowed the remainder on Neptune, who apparently preferred them raw to cooked. He eked out his scanty meal with cocoanut, having drunk the juice, which he found very refreshing after the salt, coarse-tasting clams. He had no longer any fear of starving, though the food he had obtained was neither wholesome nor palatable. After finishing his meal, he threw himself on the sand within the shadow of the cave, trying to reflect what he should next do, but his mind was in a state of confusion. He could not sufficiently collect his thoughts to arrive at any determination. Neptune lay by his side, occasionally licking his hand, trying to amuse him. He felt the solitude to which he was doomed trying in the extreme. The only human being on the island beside himself, was, as far as he could tell, young Hargrave, whom he had despised and hated, and who seemed in no way disposed to forget the mutual ill-feeling which had so long existed, or to show him any marks of attention. He looked out, half expecting to see his enemy approach, but the latter had evidently taken up his abode in the further part of the island, and kept out of his way. Another night was approaching; it was necessary to collect some more wood to keep in his fire, for should a cloudy day come on, he would have no means of relighting it. At last, seeing the necessity of exerting himself, he got up, intending to fill two of the largest clam shells he had picked up with water, which might serve to quench his thirst during the night. Directly he rose to his feet, Neptune showed his satisfaction by leaping about him, and barked with joy when he found that he was directing his steps towards the fountain. On arriving at it, both he and the dog drank their fill, then placing the shells by its side, he set to work to collect fire-wood. There was no great amount of fallen sticks, and it took him some time before he could pick up a sufficient quantity. As formerly, he observed in the distance the smoke of a fire, which he felt sure had been kindled by Hargrave. The dog, by pulling his trousers, attempted to draw him in that direction. "No, no; we will not go and interfere with the fellow. He'll fancy that we want his assistance, or are begging for some of the food he may have obtained. We must show him that we can do very well by ourselves," he said, addressing his dog. Fastening the sticks to his back by a piece of rope he had picked up, and taking the two clam shells in his hand, he set off to return to the cave. He had gone a short distance without thinking of Neptune, when on looking round he found that the dog had disappeared. "Where can the animal have gone to?" he exclaimed. "Has he deserted me for the sake of that scoundrel? If he has, when he comes back I'll tie him up and teach him that he must not associate with my enemy." On reaching the cave he sat down more oppressed even than before by gloomy thoughts. He believed that the _Marie_ had been cast away on a remote island, near which no English ship was likely to pass, and that he might remain there for months, perhaps for years, without having an opportunity of escaping, even should he live so long; but he felt so sick and weak that he feared his existence would soon be cut short. "Perhaps," he thought, "that young Hargrave may take it into his head to murder me. What is there, to prevent him? All that he has to do is to bury me in the sand, with the rest of the poor fellows. And if questions are asked, he could say I was cast lifeless on the shore, or died afterwards from sickness, and such, judging from my sensations, is very likely to be the case." The pangs of hunger aroused him. As there was sufficient daylight remaining, he went down to the rocks and cut off a few more shell-fish. The task was so hard a one that he did not collect more than he required. He had slightly improved in the art of cooking them, but he much wished that he had some pepper and salt to make them more palatable. They were nearly cooked, when he saw Neptune scampering along the beach towards him, with something in his mouth. The dog approaching laid it down at his feet, and Lord Reginald discovered that it was a beautiful pigeon. "Is that what you left me for?" he exclaimed, highly delighted, patting the dog. "This will be far better than those dreadful clams which I could hardly swallow, and which when swallowed made me feel as if I had eaten lead." Neptune wagged his tail, as much as to say, "I am very glad, master, I have brought you something you like." The puzzle was now how to cook the bird. At first he thought of putting it in a clam shell to bake. He had actually placed it on the fire, feathers and all, when he remembered that it must be plucked. This he did in a somewhat awkward fashion. Then he recollected seeing pictures of camp fires, with animals spitted on sticks roasting before them. He selected such from the heap near him as would serve his purpose. Peeling one with his knife, he ran it through the bird, then placed it on two forked sticks, which he stuck in the ground. This done he raked the ashes of the fire beneath the bird close round it, and began turning his spit with his hand. It was hot work, and exercised all his patience. At last he saw that the bird was becoming browner and browner. He was satisfied that he was cooking it in the right fashion. Neptune lay down with his paws out, watching the process. Lord Reginald was too hungry to wait, and taking it off the spit he put it into a clam shell to serve as a dish, and began eagerly eating it. Though, from being just killed, and underdone, it was somewhat tough, it afforded him a far more satisfactory meal than any he had tasted since he had reached the island. He would have been wise had he reserved a portion for next morning's breakfast, but without consideration, after he had satisfied his hunger, he threw the remainder to Neptune, who gobbled it up in a few seconds. Being now perfectly dark, having made up his fire he retired to his cave, where, with a piece of wood which he had brought up from the shore for his pillow, he lay down to sleep with Neptune by his side. He knew that his faithful dog would keep watch, and that he need have no fear of being attacked by any wild beasts which might exist in the island. It was some time before he could go to sleep, but at length, overcome by fatigue and mental anxiety, he dropped into an unquiet slumber. It appeared to him that he was dreaming or thinking the whole night through. Great was his surprise to find it broad daylight when he awoke. Instead of the hurricane which had lately blown, there was a perfect calm, though the smooth undulations broke in a line of foam along the beach where it was not protected by rocks. His fire had gone out, but he had no difficulty in lighting it by means of his burning glass. His first care was to make it up. He then set off to collect some more shellfish. He had got down to the shores of the little bay which has been before described, and was scrambling along the reef, when his eye fell on a figure apparently clinging to a cleft of the rock on the opposite side, just above high-water mark. The figure seemed to move. Taking out his small telescope he watched it eagerly, trying also to discover some means of getting to the spot. He at once saw by the dress that the figure was that of young Lucas. Was it possible that he was still alive? He feared not. He lost no time in returning to the beach, and then made his way along the rocks until he descended to the point where he had seen his shipmate. A glance at the features told him that the midshipman was dead, and had probably been washed up by the sea into the cleft of the rock. How to remove the body was now the question. He could not let it remain there festering in the hot sun, and it seemed impossible for him to carry it over the rough rocks on his shoulders. At last he thought he might tow it to the shore. There were plenty of materials for forming a raft. He soon lashed a few pieces of wreck together, when, having launched them, he took off his clothes and towed them out. Had it not been for the uniform he could not have distinguished his young shipmate. Extricating the body, not without difficulty, from the cleft of the rock in which it had been fixed, he lowered it down to the raft. Then taking the end of the tow-rope in hand, he began to swim towards the beach. The raft was heavy, and so weak did he feel that he was afraid he should be unable to reach the shore with his melancholy freight. He was puffing and blowing away, and making but slow progress, when he saw Neptune--who had disappeared in the same mysterious way as he had done on the previous day--coming scampering along the beach. He called the dog, who with a bound plunged in and swam towards him. He placed the tow-rope in the mouth of the animal, who, seeming to know perfectly well what to do, swam with it towards the shore, allowing his master to rest his hand on his back. He thus, in a much shorter time than would otherwise have been possible, reached the beach. He felt so fatigued that he had to rest while the hot sun dried his body, before he could again put on his clothes. Neptune, who was now aware of the freight he had brought ashore, waited as if to see what more was required of him. Suddenly he seemed to recollect that he had another duty to perform, and running back to the spot from which he had leapt into the water, he took up a pigeon, which he brought to his master. "You are a wonderful dog," said Lord Reginald, patting his head. "How have you managed to catch this bird?" He would gladly have got through the painful task he had set himself, but the pangs of hunger made him determine to cook the bird first. Following the plan he had adopted on the previous evening, he soon had it plucked and spitted. As he opened the crop he was surprised to see three large nuts drop to the ground, which split as they fell; it seemed wonderful that the pigeon could have swallowed them, large as they were. The kernels, which he put into the fire and roasted, were especially nice and served instead of bread. Neptune, as before, came in for the remainder of the bird. He ate it up, but not greedily, as if he was in want of food. "The rogue has been catering for himself, I suspect I hope that he may bring me something for dinner, for though a pigeon a day is something, sufficient to keep body and soul together, I shall require more to retain my strength." As he again rose a sensation of lassitude oppressed him. He felt very much disinclined for the painful task he had undertaken. It must be done, however, and rousing himself he seized the wooden spade he had before used, and set to work to dig a grave near that of Voules. He had not long been engaged in his task, when looking up he saw Richard Hargrave approaching. This at once made him suspect that he had been watched by his rival, although he had not discovered him. "I don't like to see you engaged in that sort of work; it is as much my duty as yours," said Dick. "So I have come to help you." "I shan't require your aid," answered Lord Reginald, haughtily; "you can bury any of the men you may find, but I choose to bury this young officer myself." "Very well, do as you like," said Dick, indignant at having his well-meant offer refused. "I thought as we had both suffered a common misfortune, you would have been glad of the society and assistance of a fellow-creature." "You don't suppose that any common misfortune would bring me down to your level?" exclaimed Lord Reginald. "I don't require either your sympathy or your assistance; all I desire is that you should keep out of my way, and remember that I am still your officer." "I remember that you were once my officer, and that as such you took every opportunity to show your ill-feelings towards me, or allowed others to do so. One of them lies there, and unless you exercise such sense as you have got, you'll soon take your place by his side. I speak plainly, but I speak the truth. Except the few shell-fish, and the couple of cocoanuts you have picked up, you have been unable to procure any food for yourself." "You are wrong there," said Lord Reginald; "my faithful dog has catered for me, and I have no doubt he will continue to do so; but I do not choose to waste words on you. Be off, and look after your own affairs." Dick laughed scornfully. "Do you suppose that the dog would have got those birds by himself?" he asked. "You give him credit for more cleverness than he possesses." "I have told you I do not desire to hold any conversation with you," said Lord Reginald, not inquiring for an explanation of the last remark Dick had made, though it somewhat puzzled him. "You must take the consequences of your obstinacy, then!" exclaimed Dick, walking away with as haughty an air as Lord Reginald himself could have assumed. The poor young lord resumed his uncongenial occupation, which Dick's appearance had interrupted. The grave was dug, and the body of the midshipman dragged into it. He lost no time in covering it up, as it was painful to look upon those features, once so full of life and animation. "Are we two, then, the only survivors from the _Marie_?" exclaimed Lord Reginald. "I wish that some one else had been saved, though I now know for certain that the only ones with whom I could have associated are dead!" Instead of setting to work to try and improve his condition, oppressed with lassitude, he lay for the remainder of the day in front of his cave, doing nothing. Neptune remained by him for some time, then apparently getting weary of inaction, after playing about on the sand, scampered off into the interior. "I hope that he has gone to get me another pigeon, or something else," said Lord Reginald, when he found that the dog had disappeared. "Sagacious brute, he knows my wants, and is sure to bring me something." Hour after hour, however, passed by, and he began to get very hungry. The dog did not return, and evening was approaching. He at last got up, and set off for the spring, to obtain a draught of water, and hoping to find at all events another cocoanut in the palm grove, where he had procured the others. Having drunk as much water as he required, he searched about. Though numbers of cocoanuts grew on the trees above his head, he could not find one fallen to the ground. There were a few husks, which had been broken open and their contents abstracted. He looked about, expecting to see his dog. Neptune did not make his appearance. All he could do therefore, was to collect some more sticks to keep up his fire, after which he obtained some clams from the seashore, off which, though imperfectly cooked, he was fain to make his supper. He had just finished when he saw Neptune coming towards him, not scampering along as usual, but advancing slowly, with his tail between his legs. Lord Reginald looked out eagerly for the pigeon, but Neptune's mouth had nothing in it. "What, my good dog, have you been unsuccessful in your hunting?" he said. "It is a bad look-out for me, as I shall have nothing but these clams. However, you shall share them with me." When, however, he offered the shell-fish to the dog, he refused to eat them, and, looking ashamed of himself, crouched down by his side. Another night passed away. When the young lord tried to get up in the morning, his limbs ached, and he found himself much weaker than before. He became somewhat alarmed. "If this goes on I don't know how it will end," he said to himself. "It is evident that the clams do not agree with me; however, as I have nothing else, I must eat some for breakfast." In spite of the pain he was suffering, he crawled down to the beach, and collected as many as he thought he and his dog would require. Bringing them back, and making up his fire, he tried to cook them with more care than before. But they tasted like so many pieces of salted leather, and he could with difficulty swallow them. Neptune ate a few; they were evidently not much to his taste. He soon showed signs of a wish to get away from his master. Twice he started off, but Lord Reginald called him back. "Come, old dog, we will go and hunt together, and I hope that we shall be more successful than before," he said, at length getting up, and taking a stick to support himself. Sick as he was, he thought a bath would refresh him. He accordingly went down to the bay, and taking off his clothes waded in. The cool water had the effect he expected. He thought he might venture to swim out to a little distance. The dog followed him, keeping close to his side. He had not got far when Neptune uttered a bark, very different in tone to that which he usually emitted. It appeared to be indicative of alarm, and Lord Reginald, looking ahead, saw a black fin rising above the water. He immediately turned, and swam with all his might back to the beach, expecting every instant to feel his leg seized by a shark, for he knew too well that the black fin belonged to one of the monsters of the deep. Nep continued close to him, though he might have got ahead, but the moment he touched the beach he scampered up it, and then turned round and barked furiously, leaping and splashing about in the shallow water. Lord Reginald also, as soon as his feet touched the sand, waded out as fast as his strength would allow, and did not stop until he reached dry ground. Scarcely had he landed, than a pair of huge jaws appeared above the surface, making directly for the dog. But Neptune was too active to be caught, though he had a narrow escape. Lord Reginald, exhausted by the exertions he had made, sank on the sand. Some minutes passed before he could manage to put on his clothes. It was a warning to him not to bathe in future in the bay. As soon as he had somewhat recovered, again taking his stick in hand he set off, as he had before intended, for the fountain. He felt much refreshed, after taking a draught of pure water and washing his face and head in it, and was sufficiently strong, he thought, to make an exploring expedition through the island, to ascertain its size, and whether he could obtain more food than the sea-shore afforded. Finding an accessible hill he toiled up it. From the summit, he obtained a view over the larger portion of the island. It was generally volcanic and barren. The hill on which he stood formed the side of a volcano, but whether active or not, he could not determine. It was destitute of vegetation, and was covered with black lava, which, from being hard and smooth, he supposed had long been exposed to the atmosphere. There were, however, level spots, in which grew a number of tropical trees, and he could see far off, a broad valley, through which a stream meandered. He looked round for signs of inhabitants, but could discover no huts or buildings of any sort, or traces of cultivation. In the far distance, round a point which ran out to the southward, beyond the spot where the _Marie_ had been wrecked, he saw a wreath of smoke ascending through the pure air. This, he had no doubt, rose from Richard Hargrave's fire. Descending the hill, he made his way along a valley, which was of far greater extent than the one he had just discovered near his cave. He was struck with the number of birds--some of beautiful plumage, and others resembling barn door fowls, which were running about among the trees, picking up seeds and fruits fallen from the lofty boughs. He caught sight of some small deer, but the moment they saw him, they scampered off as fleet as the wind. Further off he came upon a small herd of queer-looking pigs. They took to flight, and although Neptune made chase, they quickly distanced him. Presently he heard a chattering above his head, and looking up he saw a number of very small monkeys, grinning out at him from among the boughs. Impulsively he threw his stick at one of the nearest, but the monkey saw it coming, and quickly getting out of the way, clambered with its companions to the higher boughs, where a bullet alone could have reached it. "There's game enough here to support a ship's company," he thought; "but they only appear to tantalise me, and I may be doomed to starve in the midst of abundance." Among the birds were numerous white cockatoos which flew over his head, but as he approached took good care to keep out of his way, while green pigeons, similar to those Neptune had brought him, were in great numbers, and evidently less timid. Some flew close to him, or remained perched on the boughs, but though he threw his stick at several, he failed to bring one down. "I wonder that this island, like others in the neighbourhood, is not inhabited." The thought then occurred to him that the volcano had either driven the natives away, or prevented them from occupying it, although the fertility of the valley through which he was walking showed that it was capable of supporting a tolerably numerous population. He went on and on, interested in the objects he saw, and almost forgetting his fatigue, being able occasionally to quench his thirst at the stream along the banks of which he made his way. He cast a longing eye at several fruits hanging from the boughs of trees of the palm species, but they were all beyond his reach, and no way occurred to him of getting at them. The chief inconvenience he suffered was from the want of a hat, as the sun beat down with intense force on his head, but although he had seen Richard Hargrave wearing one, it did not occur to him that he might manufacture a similar protection. He at length remembered his white handkerchief, which he tied round his head, placing several layers of leaves beneath it, to add to its thickness. This somewhat relieved him, but did not shelter his eyes and face. At last he reached a hill of slight elevation, to the top of which he climbed. It overlooked a small picturesque bay. On the nearest point was a large mass of wreck, apparently the bows of the ship, which, when she parted, had been driven there by the current and the fury of the hurricane. On one side, though at no great distance from the shore, was a neat hut, at which a person was working, whom he felt sure was Richard Hargrave. Neptune, on seeing him, bounded off without asking his master's leave, and Lord Reginald, to his intense disgust, saw the dog rush up and lick the hand of his rival, who patted him, then going into the hut, quickly came out with some pieces of meat, which he gave to the dog. The sight exasperated the young lord, so that, not considering the folly of what he was about, hurrying down the hill, he made his way towards Dick. The latter, who had mounted a ladder to continue his work, turning his head, saw him coming, and descended to meet him. "You scoundrel!" exclaimed the young lord, his features distorted with anger. "You are trying to entice my dog from me by giving him food, which you might at all events have had the grace to offer to me, your officer." "I have no wish to entice your dog from you!" answered Dick; "and I would advise you to calm your anger, and listen to reason. I sent you two pigeons I trapped, by your dog, first giving him a hearty meal, that he might not eat them on the way, and from your own lips I know that you received them, though you had not the grace to thank me, and declared that you could do very well without my assistance; so I left you to look after yourself, though I hadn't the heart to refuse to feed your dog, when I knew you would have nothing to give him." "That's false!" exclaimed Lord Reginald. "I know full well that your object was to deprive me of my dog, for the faithful animal--though his instinct induces him to take the food--managed to break away from you, and to return to me, and had you really wished to assist me you might have sent some more of those pigeons, or any other provisions you have obtained." "It's of no use arguing with an angry man," retorted Dick. "You accuse me of uttering falsehoods. Again I assure you that I have spoken but the simple truth, and say that, as you have obstinately refused my assistance, you must take the consequences." "Impertinent scoundrel!" cried Lord Reginald. "You dare to speak to me thus! I desire you not again to feed my dog, or to let him remain if he comes to you. He and I must forage for ourselves, and there's game enough in the island, so I shall be able to catch as much as I require for myself and him." "As you please," said Dick, turning aside, and whistling as he went on with his work, which the arrival of Lord Reginald had interrupted. The young lord, calling Neptune, who seemed very unwilling to leave, walked off, foaming with anger, and muttering, "I must put a stop to this, or it is impossible to say what he will next do!" As he reached the top of the hill, he could not refrain from turning round, to watch the proceedings of his rival. Dick had built a good-sized hut under the shade of a grove of trees, and had dug up the ground in an open space near it, to form a garden, which he had begun to rail in. "The fellow seems determined to make himself at home, as if he expected to live here for years to come. A low-born fellow has mechanical talents such as I don't possess; they certainly give him an advantage over me, under the circumstances in which we are placed, but I must see what I can do for myself. My cave has only hitherto afforded me shelter, but should the wind blow strong and directly into it, I should not find it a comfortable abode. I must try and build a hut for myself. I don't see why I shouldn't, though it might not be so well finished as his. But there's wreck enough on the shore for the purpose, though I shall be puzzled how to get it up. Then about providing myself with food, I'll make a bow and arrows; I shall then be able to shoot some birds, or perhaps a deer, and occasionally a pig. Anything would be better than being beholden to that fellow. It is important that I should show how independent I am of him." Such thoughts occupied the young lord's mind as he continued his walk along the valley, Neptune every now and then giving chase to a deer or a hog, but the animals scampered off, soon leaving him far behind, and on each occasion he came slinking back to his master, greatly disconcerted at his want of success. "I see, poor fellow, you are not more likely to catch one of those creatures than I am," he said. "We must try what we can do in some other way. We need not starve in the midst of abundance, that's very certain." He looked about carefully on every side for a young sapling or a tree of some flexible character of which he might form a bow, but he was too ignorant of their nature to know which to select. "I must try them first, perhaps I shall hit upon one which will answer my purpose." At last he came to a small straight stem. "This will do, at all events," he thought, and he set to work with his knife to cut it down. As the knife was blunt, he made but slow progress. Even when it was down, he would have to pare off the lower part, so as to make it of the same size as the upper. At length by cutting round and round, he made a notch of sufficient depth to enable him to break off the stem. Shouldering his prize, he walked on to the cave, which he thought would be cooler than any other spot. Poor Nep followed him, wondering what was going to happen. On measuring the sapling he found that he might have cut it much higher up and saved himself a great deal of trouble. The bow, were he to use it of its present length, would be much too long. He had therefore to remedy this by cutting off two feet at the bottom end. He then peeled it and began shaping the stick by paring off the thicker end. He had shaped it very much to his satisfaction, before it occurred to him to try and bend the bow. What was his annoyance to find, on making the attempt, that bend it would not. It would have formed a very good lance, had he retained the full length, but it was useless for a bow. Again and again he tried to bend it. Using all his force, he felt it yield in his hand, and presently it snapped across. He threw it to the ground with an exclamation of disgust, and for a few minutes felt utterly dispirited. "I ought to have tried it first to ascertain whether it was of the nature of the yew. Surely savages in this region use bows. There must be wood suited for the purpose, so that if I can find it, I ought to be able to make as good a bow as they can." While occupied he had not felt hungry, but as he began to move about, he was reminded by his sensations that he must find something to eat. He felt a dislike to making another meal off the shell-fish, but he knew that unless he should be successful in catching some bird or animal he would be compelled to do so. Neptune also showed that he was conscious of the necessity of providing for the inner man. The moment he saw his master get up, he bounded forward, leaping and frisking about to encourage him to proceed. Poor Lord Reginald, as he walked on after the dog, felt downcast and faint. By going to Richard Hargrave and apologising for his conduct, he might have obtained all he required, but he would rather starve than do that. As he reached the valley he saw a large number of white cockatoos and green pigeons flying about, and preparing to roost for the night. "If I can manage to steal on some of those fellows at night, I might catch a few; that, perhaps, is the way Hargrave gets them." But that was a long time to wait with the possibility of not succeeding, and so Neptune thought, for he went ranging far and wide, evidently looking for food. Going to the fountain, Lord Reginald took a draught of cold water, hoping that it might stay his hunger. Though it somewhat refreshed him, he soon became more eager than ever for food, and sat down on the bank to consider how he could possibly obtain it. In vain he had thrown sticks and stones at birds. Perhaps he might form some traps, as he knew that such means were used for catching birds, but how to construct them was the puzzle. He turned the matter over and over again in his mind, and discovered that he had no inventive genius. "I shall have to go back to the shellfish, after all," he said, with a sigh; "but I must get a stick for a bow. I will try two or three, out of which one surely will answer the purpose." Weak as he was, he again got up, and searching about for the sort of wood he wanted, he fixed on a couple of saplings and the branch of a tree. He intended to make the string by untwisting some of the rope from the wreck, while there were plenty of reeds by the side of the stream which he thought would serve as arrows, though how to form heads he had not yet decided. He hoped that by working away by the light of his fire, he might get a bow finished before the morning. He intended to test the sticks before bestowing labour on any of them, but in the mean time it was absolutely necessary to get some food, for he felt so weak that he could scarcely drag himself back to his cave. Nep was certainly of the same opinion in regard to the necessity of finding provisions, as he continued hunting round and round in all directions, occasionally stopping and barking eagerly at a monkey, which looked down at him from a high branch, or at an opossum, to one of which he gave chase, but the creature got up a tree before he could reach it, and from its hollow kept looking at the strange animal which had invaded its native domains. At last Lord Reginald saw Nep run to the top of a mound, which he observed in an open space in the wood. It appeared to be composed of sticks, dead leaves, stones, rotten wood, earth, and rubbish of all sorts. The mound was between five and six feet high, and fully twelve feet across. He thought it must be the grave of some of the aborigines who had once inhabited the island, but the dog was evidently of opinion that it contained something worth looking after, as he began scratching away with might and main, in so eager a manner, that Lord Reginald was induced to go up and ascertain what he was about. Nep had already dug a deep hole, and on looking into it, his master saw, to his surprise and satisfaction, a number of eggs as large as those of a swan, of a red brick colour. Stooping down, he eagerly picked up one of them, which he broke and found that it was perfectly sweet. Here was a storehouse, which would supply him with an abundance of excellent food. Having collected as many eggs as he could carry in his handkerchief, calling Nep, who seemed in no way disposed to leave the treasure, he set off for his cave. Making up his fire, he put three of his eggs under the ashes to cook, the only way he could think of to dress them, while he ate a portion of the one he had broken, which, though raw, was palatable, and contributed to allay the pangs of hunger. The remainder he gave to Nep, who eagerly gobbled it up, showing how hungry he had become. That the eggs were laid by birds, he had no doubt, though of what species they were he was unable to determine. He resolved, however, to return next morning, and to wait near the spot, supposing that they must be large birds, and that he should be able to kill one, which would afford him ample food for a day or two. "I shall then be as well off as that fellow Hargrave," he thought to himself, "and I at all events shall be independent of him." Having finished his supper, he commenced making a bow. One only of the sticks appeared suitable for the purpose. On bending it, back it sprang with considerable force. While still working away by the light of his waning fire, sleep so completely overpowered him, that he let fall his knife, and the stick of his bow by his side, while his head bent down over his breast. When he awoke, his fire was almost out, and as he could see to work no more, he crept back into his cave, where he lay down to sleep, with Nep, as usual, by his side. CHAPTER TWELVE. A TRYING TIME--THE FATAL CRASH--BEN RUDALL'S LAST EFFORT--AMONG THE BREAKERS--THROWN ON SHORE--THE FIRST SHELTER--THE CARPENTER'S CHEST-- SETTING TRAPS--A VERY SATISFACTORY MEAL--VISIT OF NEP--A PRESENT FOR LORD REGINALD--DICK BUILDING HIS HUT--MEETING OF THE RIVAL CRUSOES-- SUPPLIES STOPPED--COLLECTING STORES--BOAT-BUILDING--USEFUL EMPLOYMENT OF TIME--CONSTRUCTING A COT--THE MEGAPODES--A CROSSBOW. We must now go back to the night of the shipwreck. Dick, with Ben Rudall and several other men, had been stationed forward, and remained at their posts when land was first seen under the lee. "There'll be a watery grave for most of us," said Ben when the cry arose of "Land, land!" often so cheering to seamen, but on the present occasion of such dreadful import. "We must have a struggle for our lives, at all events," said Dick. "Better than going down in mid-ocean, without a plank to cling to." "You don't know what a surf like that breaking on a lee-shore under your lee can do!" observed an old salt, who stood holding on to the bulwarks with one hand, while he searched for a quid of tobacco with the other. "They would grind up a stout ship like this in a few minutes if she strikes. It can't be helped; I'll take one chaw, though it may be my last, and I only wish that I could get a glass or two of grog. It would make one feel more comfortable like." "We can do without grog, surely," said Dick. "It strikes me that we ought to try and keep our senses wide awake, so that we can judge of what's best to be done. I for one shall struggle to the last, and hope to reach the beach in spite of the surf, either on a spar or a piece of wreck." "We arn't wrecked yet; maybe we shall be able to run into some cove or other where we can bring up." "Not unless we had a pilot on board who knows the coast. From what I hear, none of the officers have ever been in these seas before, and we have little chance of dropping anchor in a safe harbour." The gale came down with increased fury. "Hold on, lads, for your lives!" cried Ben, who had cast one anxious look to leeward. "Keep clear of the falling masts, for before a minute is over we shall be on shore!" Scarcely had he spoken than there came a fearful crash. The masts went by the board. The sea, with thundering roars, broke over the doomed ship. Crash succeeded crash. The shrieks of those carried away could be heard every moment. Dick kept to his resolution of clinging tightly to a stanchion. Presently came the final crash, when the _Marie_ parted amidships, and those forward found themselves separated from their companions. The sea twisted the bow round and floated it away, but it still held together. "We shall be carried off from the land!" cried Ben Rudall. "We had better try to get hold of some spars and float ashore." "I thought you advised us to cling to the ship as long as she held together," observed Dick. "But she's not holding together," answered Ben. "To my mind, she'll either go down in deep water, or go to pieces when we are too far off to reach the shore." Still Dick had made up his mind to stick to the ship. "Well, mates, who's for the shore?" cried Ben. "Only those who are tired of life!" said the old seaman; "the wise ones will stick to the wreck. The chances are that will be cast on the beach, where we shall have a better chance of landing." Ben, however, still adhered to the belief that they would have a better prospect of saving their lives by clinging to some of the floating mass than by holding on to the forecastle, over which the sea was continually washing. Several, while doubting what to do, were swept from their hold, and had no choice given them. Ben, with three others, got hold of some pieces of timber. "If you escape and I get drowned, give my love to poor Susan and the children. Say that my last thoughts were about them," cried Ben, as he threw himself after his companions. Dick and the old seaman alone remained. The mass of wreck was tossed wildly about for some minutes, being swept by a current parallel to the shore, until at length, lifted by a sea, it drove on a reef, when the next sea rolling up, carried its two occupants overboard, together with several fragments of the bulwarks which it had torn off. Striking out for his life, Dick succeeded in getting hold of a piece of timber. As he did so he heard a cry, and glancing in the direction from whence it came, he dimly saw his late companion through the gloom, lift up his arms and sink amidst the foaming waters. Dick held fast to the timber. Although not a bad swimmer, he knew that he should have but little chance of keeping afloat in that boiling cauldron. The seas washed him on nearer and nearer the shore, when just as he felt his strength failing him, he found that the timber had grounded; so letting it go he scrambled up before the next wave overtook him, and reached the dry sand, on which he threw himself, well-nigh exhausted by his exertions. Soon recovering, he looked out, in the hopes that some of his shipmates might be thrown up on the same beach, but though he for long watched anxiously, running up and down along the whole circuit of the bay, he saw no one, and came to the melancholy conclusion that all on board excepting himself had been lost. Numerous articles, besides masses of wreck, were, however, cast on shore, and those which appeared the most valuable he made every exertion to secure. Among them was a large chest, which he hoped by its weight to have belonged to the carpenter. Though unable to haul it up beyond where the water had floated it, having found a rope he made it fast to the handle, and carried the other end to the trunk of a tree. In vain he looked out during the time, in the hope of seeing any of his shipmates coming on shore; he feared all had been drowned or washed away. At length he made out amid the foam two bodies floating at no great distance from the shore. They both appeared lashed to pieces of timber. They might still be alive. He dashed into the water, just as the sea sent one of the pieces of wreck close to him, when seizing it he dragged it up, and instantly casting off the lashings, carried the man up to the dry beach. He then dashed forward again, and succeeded in getting hold of the spar to which the second man was lashed. It cost him much labour, and he was very nearly carried out himself, but by exerting all his strength he succeeded at length in getting the spar also up to the beach. Cutting the man loose, he carried the body up and placed it beside that of his companion. He then set to work to try and restore the men to life, rubbing their hands and chests, but all his efforts were in vain. As far as he could tell, they were the only people who had reached the beach. He thought of poor Ben. He still had some hopes that he might have been washed on shore, but although he called his name several times, no answer was returned. Finding that all his efforts were vain, he then got up, wishing to procure some shelter for himself during the inclement night. Observing the mizzen rigging with a piece of sail entangled among it, he cut the canvas loose, and contrived with a couple of bales and some pieces of board, to rig up a rough hut. The storm abated and the moon shone out for a short time, enabling him to complete his work. Scarcely was it finished than down came the rain, and he was glad to crawl in and obtain rest. He slept on until morning. Immediately on getting up he went down to the beach on the chance of finding any of his companions, but no one was visible, either alive or dead. There were, however, a number of articles and masses of wreck floating or cast on shore, while the bows of the ship still hung together at the end of the reef. Hunger reminded him that he must look out for food. The trees and shrubs he saw growing inland gave him hopes of finding provision for his wants. His first care was to form a covering for his head, as he had already found the heat of the sun excessive, and he had lost his hat during his swim ashore. He had often seen the seamen on board form straw hats. He at once looked out for such leaves as would serve the purpose of straw, and soon finding some, he sat down under a tree and diligently set to work. The fibre of the leaf served as thread, the thick stem as a needle. Certainly the hat was not over well shaped, but it answered the purpose of protecting his head and neck from the burning rays of the sun. His next idea was to obtain such food as the sea would afford. Without difficulty he collected as many shell-fish as he required from the reef, and was returning with them when he saw a cask, which from its appearance he hoped contained biscuits. He at once rolled it up to his hut, then set about collecting wood for a fire. He easily found a supply of dry sticks which, with some pieces of wreck, were amply sufficient for his wants. As he was collecting the sticks he was delighted to see the number of birds as well as animals inhabiting the island. "If I can catch you fellows, I shall have no want of food," he observed. "I must set my wits to work, and make some traps." A couple of large clam shells which he had found on the beach, served to carry water. He had in his pocket a flint and steel, with which he soon managed to produce a blaze. While the shell-fish were cooking, he opened the cask, which he found contained flour. Though the outside was wet, by digging down to a little depth, he found the interior perfectly dry. A clam shell served him as a kneading-dish, and he quickly made some dough cakes, which he baked in the embers. He was thus able to enjoy a very satisfactory breakfast, although he had cold water alone as a beverage. There were a number of other casks and cases, and he hoped to find among them some more flour, and perhaps some tea or coffee, and salt beef or pork. The first thing to be done was to secure all the articles which came on the beach, before another tide should float them off. He at once set about this. It was somewhat hard work, for many of the cases were heavy, and he could with difficulty drag them over the soft sand. Having drawn up all he could see floating on the shores of the bay, he bethought him that by going further to the south, he might find others in the bay off which the ship struck. He accordingly set out, and climbing over the intervening rocks, what was his surprise on looking down to see a person at work, whom he recognised as Lord Reginald. He at once guessed how he was employed. "It isn't fair to let him do that work all alone, though I'd rather have kept clear of him, and very likely he'll not take in good part whatever offer I make," he said to himself. He approached, and was received as he expected. The interview has already been described. Dick felt a sincere grief when he found Ben Rudall's body among the drowned; it was not likely that any others had escaped. The headland which extended away to the westward, would prevent any persons landing on that side, and he felt sure that Lord Reginald and he were the only people who had escaped from the wreck. The treatment he received made him resolve not to trouble Lord Reginald in future with his company. "He'll come to his senses by-and-by, and find out that he and I are pretty much on an equality, or rather that I have the advantage of him, as I shall be able to get on much better than he does," thought Dick. From the first, he saw the necessity of providing for his daily wants. He must look out for food, and erect some shelter for himself. The hut in which he had spent the first night was hot and close, and though it might serve him until he could get a better habitation erected, he was anxious to build a more substantial place to live in. He was desirous, also, without delay, to examine the large chest. It would have been a difficult task to get it beyond the reach of the sea, even should Lord Reginald have condescended to help him. He considered, therefore, how he could best do it alone. There were several broken spars about. These he collected, and managed, by digging away the sand, to place them so as to serve as rollers beneath the chest. He then picked up several blocks, with which he formed a tackle, and secured it to the stump of a tree. By hauling away with all his might, he found that he could move the chest, and by shifting the rollers by degrees he hauled it up beyond high-water mark. The next difficulty to be overcome was to get it open. He had no tools to work with, and without tools it would baffle the strength of fifty men. Looking about, however, he discovered a large flat stone which might, he hoped, serve as a wedge; after a further search he picked up another heavy round stone, and armed with these he began to work away at the lock. It resisted for some time, but by hammering away with might and main the lock yielded, and the interior, full of carpenter's tools and numerous other articles, was revealed to his sight. He had now the means of building a comfortable house. He had been taught to handle tools by a carpenter in his younger days, and he had also--which was of great importance--often formed traps for the purpose of catching birds and animals, so that he might thus supply himself with food. He saw a number of green pigeons, which appeared very tame, and lots of cockatoos, though they looked too wise to be trapped. Selecting such of the tools as he thought he should require, he collected a quantity of wood, and took them up to the shade of the nearest tree, where he could work in tolerable comfort. In a short time he had formed three traps, similar to those made by boys in England to catch sparrows, but of much larger dimensions. Having picked up a quantity of seed fallen from the trees, for bait, he set them in different places apart, where from a distance he could command a sight of them. He watched eagerly, and soon had the satisfaction of seeing one go down, and directly afterwards the other two. He ran up to secure his prizes. Each had caught a pigeon, and wringing their necks he reset the traps, and returned to his tree. Some dry fungus served him for tinder. Having his flint and steel, he struck a spark and soon had a fire blazing. He plucked one of the pigeons and set it on to roast, considering that it would be sufficient for one meal, and intending to keep the other two. He then made some dough cakes, which he cooked as before, on a large stone surrounded by ashes. He had begun his meal when he saw Nep ranging in the distance. He called the dog to him, and observing his hungry look, gave him the remainder of the pigeon and some dough cake. The dog, having eaten what was bestowed upon him, looked still anxious. "I see what it is; you are thinking of your master, old fellow. Now you take back that bird. He is probably very hungry, and you may tell him I sent it, if you like. I don't suppose he will refuse to eat it, even if he knows where it comes from. Now mind, Nep, don't you stop on the way and bolt it down, or I shall be obliged to give you a thrashing when you come back." Nep seemed fully to understand what he was to do. Taking the bird up with as much care as if it were alive, he set off in the direction of the cave. "He'll do it," said Dick, well satisfied with himself. "I couldn't bear to have him starve, while I am enjoying an ample meal. The chances are that he hasn't got the sense to obtain anything for himself. Nep might be able to catch some animals for him, but he won't succeed in getting hold of a bird." Dick felt much more satisfied with himself after this. He now began to consider how he could make himself comfortable. While setting his traps he had observed several trees which bore fruit, and he therefore felt convinced he should be able to obtain as much food as he required, besides any fish he might catch. On searching the carpenter's chest, he found a number of hooks of all sizes, together with some fine line, so that he might go out fishing as soon as he had time. Several of the bales consisted of cotton or linen cloth, and another prize was a box belonging to one of the officers, which contained clothes, shoes, some nautical instruments, a spyglass, and several books, which, although they were in French, were better than none at all, as he might by their means teach himself that language. Having collected all the wood which had drifted ashore from the wreck, he dragged it up by means of his tackle, and he had soon enough to build a small hut. He lost no time in making a commencement. The tropical rains, he thought, might soon begin, and it was important to get under shelter before then. He settled to build his hut in such a way that he might increase its size as he could procure more materials. At present his plan was to build the frame of drift wood, and then to cover it over with planks, for which he might cut down trees and saw them up into boards. For some time, however, his progress was slow, as he was compelled to look out for provisions. For this purpose he had to form several more traps, as sometimes whole days passed without those he had at first set catching a bird. Neptune paid him another visit, and he sent a second pigeon by the dog to Lord Reginald. Remembering that several articles had been thrown up on the beach of the smaller bay on which Lord Reginald had been cast, he thought that he would ascertain if there were any things worth having among them. He set off, therefore, armed with a stick for this purpose. He was going along the beach, eagerly looking out for whatever he could draw on shore, when he saw Lord Reginald engaged in burying the midshipman. The coldness with which his overtures were received made him determine to leave Lord Reginald to his own devices. "He'll soon find out how well he can get on alone," he said to himself, and turning on his heel he went back to his hut. "If the foolish fellow chooses to starve, there's no reason why the poor dog should. If he comes, I'll do my best to feed him, at all events." Dick had now plenty of work before him. His spirits rose as he laboured away, and he made good progress with his hut. It was almost fit for occupation. As long as he could procure nourishing food without difficulty, he devoted himself without interruption to the work. Neptune paid his visits as before, and Dick fed him well, but would give him no food to carry to his master. "No, no," he said; "he boasts that he can feed himself, let him do so. If he starve, that's not my look-out, but you, poor brute, deserve being cared for." At length, to Dick's surprise, Lord Reginald made his appearance. At first Dick hoped he had come with overtures of peace, but the young lord's haughty bearing and outrageous remarks convinced him that there was little hope of their living on amicable terms together. "Let him go and live by himself as best he can," said Dick. "I should have liked to have had a companion, but I would rather be without one than be compelled to associate with so ill-tempered a fellow as he is." And he went on boring holes and hammering on the planks of his house. Next day Nep made his appearance, begging for food, which Dick gave him, but though he had several pigeons, he would not send one by him. Nep stayed on, hoping to get it, but Dick was determined that the young lord should be made to feel his own helplessness. "If he want food for himself, he must come and ask for it," he said; "he chose to despise my former presents, and I intend to teach him which is the best man of the two." Dick soon got his hut roofed in, so that should rain come on, he would be under shelter. He had still to make furniture for it, and to build a storehouse and other conveniences. Before commencing these operations, he bethought him of the best means of securing a supply of provisions, so that he need not be interrupted in his work. During two or three excursions he had made through the valley, he had seen the number of birds and animals inhabiting it. The pigs, he thought, he could catch in pitfalls, though it might be a task of some difficulty without an iron spade to dig them in hard ground, but he was not to be daunted, and he determined to form some instrument with which to accomplish his purpose. Then he thought, "I ought to have a canoe to go out fishing, while the fine weather lasts." As he wandered about, he looked out for a tree to suit his purpose. He found one of sufficient girth and length, with a perfectly straight trunk, though whether the nature of the wood was suitable for a canoe, he could not ascertain, except by cutting it down. He had often felled trees at home, but without an axe he could do nothing. He went back to the carpenter's chest, in the hopes of finding one. Searching among the tools, at the bottom he discovered three spare heads. He had, however, to fix a handle to one of them. The first thing to be done was to find a piece of wood suited for the purpose. After hunting for some time, he discovered a piece of oak, washed ashore from the wreck. On measuring it, he ascertained that it was large enough to form three handles. Before, however, he could use a saw to his satisfaction, he considered that it would be necessary to form a stool, which he did from a piece of plank, with four stout legs fixed in the ground, close to his hut. He could now shape the handles without difficulty. Having sawn out one, he set to work with chisel and plane, and quickly formed a long handle which pleased him well. Fixing it securely in the axe-head, he poised it, and found that it was all he could desire. Throwing off his jacket and waistcoat, rolling up his shirt sleeves, and fastening a handkerchief round his waist, he set to work, and began chopping away at the trunk of the tree, on the lee side, so that, the last stroke being given on the weather side, it might fall without fear of crushing him. He laboured away without cessation until he had cut through nearly half the tree, when his arms began to ache. He stopped, retiring to a little distance to contemplate his work. "Another two hours will do it, and I should like to get it down before dark," he exclaimed. The wood was tolerably soft. This gave him hopes that he should be able to shape it without difficulty. His first idea had been to form only a fishing punt, which would enable him to go off a short distance from the land, or to visit the various bays in the island, where fish might abound. But as he considered the size of the tree, he thought it might be as well to construct one large enough to cross to any of the islands to the northward, which he knew to exist in that direction. For some thirty feet the trunk was almost of the same circumference. By adding weather boards, and decking over a portion of the stern and head, he might form a boat of a size sufficient to venture on a long voyage. After resting himself, he again set to work, until he had cut into the heart of the tree. Having penetrated deeply into the tree on the lee side, he now stood on the weather side, and prepared to give the finishing strokes. After every stroke, he watched to see in which direction the tree was bending, that he might spring out of the way, in an opposite one to which it tended. At length, the wood began to crack, and the tall tree hung over on the side he expected. He plied his axe with redoubled vigour, when, tottering for a moment, down it came with a crash, making the earth around tremble, and throwing up a cloud of dust and leaves. He uttered a shout of satisfaction as he saw the first part of his work accomplished. In his eagerness, he would have begun shaping it out immediately, but darkness had come on, and prevented him from working. He had been so engaged, that he had forgotten all about his food. Hurrying to his traps, he found a couple of pigeons, which he hastily plucked, and, having made up his fire, put on to roast. While they were cooking, he kneaded some small dough cakes. "I wish that foolish fellow had more sense; I would gladly have given him some of these," he thought. "The chances are he hasn't been able to kill anything. Hunger, however, will perhaps bring him to his senses, and I shall have him here begging. I can't have the heart to refuse him, though he ought to be made to feel his own helplessness." Having finished his supper, Dick hung up the other bird, and put away his cakes for breakfast, that he might set to work as soon as it was daylight. He had not hitherto formed a bed-place for himself, being content to sleep on the ground, with some canvas and cloth from one of the bales, which he had first well dried in the sun, for a covering. Being very tired, he lay down, but fancied that he felt creatures crawling over him, so he resolved to make a cot before the next night, that he might sleep more comfortably. He had noticed some palm needles and a quantity of twine in the carpenter's chest, which would be of great service. He awoke before daylight, but afraid of losing time, he remained awake, thinking over his plans, until he saw the first gleams of dawn breaking in the eastern sky. He then at once rose and went down to the beach to take a bath, splashing about all the time he was in the water, and looking out seawards, in case of sharks or other dangerous creatures being near. Thoroughly refreshed, he returned on shore. Having dressed, he went back to his hut to commence his work for the day. He was so eager to get his boat finished that he would at once have begun on that, but there were other things of more immediate importance. The first was to see that his traps were properly set, as he knew that he was more likely to catch birds in the morning when they came down to feed, than at other times in the day. It took him, however, some time to collect the nuts and other fallen fruits on which the birds fed. As he was thus employed, he counted several different species, mostly of beautiful plumage, while a number of monkeys played on the boughs above his head, chattering furiously, as if to ask him where he came from. "If the birds fly away, I shall be able to catch some of you fellows, at all events," he said, looking up at them. "I have heard say that some people do eat monkeys, though I would rather have any other meat. I'd sooner have one of those deer or hogs I see scampering away there; though, as I have not much chance of finding a gun and powder, I must make a crossbow and arrows. I used to shoot pretty well with one; if I can get the right sort of wood I have no doubt I could make one that would carry fifty yards or so, and I dare say that I should be able to kill some of those fellows, by lying in ambush, or creeping up to them. I'm sure, at all events, that I can knock over as many monkeys as I require." Having set his traps, he ate the remainder of his pigeon and some of the dough cakes, which he washed down with a draught of pure water. He then began on his cot. He might have made a hammock with far less difficulty, but it would require more space to hang than his hut afforded, and would not be altogether so comfortable as a cot. With two long poles and two short ones for the head and foot, he formed a framework, to which he secured canvas. Then fastening on the knittles, he secured a couple of blocks to the rafters of the hut, and thus formed a satisfactory sleeping-place. With some of the cloth he made a pillow and mattress, which he stuffed with dried leaves, while another piece of cloth served as a coverlid of sufficient thickness for that climate. "I shall want a table and stool, and I must see if I can find any plates and dishes, mugs, or a saucepan." He very soon had fallen into the habit of talking to himself. The day was wearing on. He had seen nothing of Lord Reginald nor of Neptune. He was surprised that the dog had not paid him a visit, but concluded that he had found sufficient food for himself and his master, or that he would certainly have done so. Dick accordingly began to plan his canoe. He had found pencils and paper in the well-stored carpenter's chest. He drew the proposed shape of the stem and stern. His chief doubt was about the length. He finally settled to make the canoe thirty feet long. The tree was upwards of four feet in diameter. He proposed to make the gunwale two feet above this by raising it all round, and he thus hoped to get a craft of sufficient beam to carry cargo and go through a considerable amount of sea. He had the whole plan more clearly defined in his own mind than he could have designed it on paper. His first business was to chop off the bark and to saw the two ends even; then to level one side of the tree, cutting off rather more than one-third. On the level thus formed, he drew a line from one end to the other, carefully measuring it so that both sides might be equal. He next marked off from his drawing the shape of the bow and stern. By the time these operations were completed it was again night. He determined that nothing except what was absolutely necessary should stop him until he could finish it. He intended to fix on a keel and stern, so that the boat might carry sail. While on board the _Wolf_, he had often heard the warrant officers discuss the best form of boat. The carpenter described the canoes in those seas with outriggers, which would prevent them upsetting. Dick had comprehended the object of these; indeed, the carpenter had shown him some prints in Captain Cook's voyages, which enabled him still better to understand the use of such contrivances. Though Dick was highly proud of his proposed craft, he was fully sensible of the importance of procuring food. Next morning when he went to his traps, he found that no birds had been taken. He concluded that, seeing so many of their companions caught, the rest had become wary, but he saw many others of different species, which he hoped either to trap or shoot. To do this he must manufacture his proposed crossbow. Without loss of time, taking an axe and saw with him, he set out in search of the necessary wood, for none of that from the wreck was likely to answer the purpose. He went on through the broad valley, until he arrived at the smaller one, in which was the spring whence Lord Reginald procured his supply of water. He looked out, but could see nothing of either the young lord or his dog. As he passed through the wood, he observed several birds; they had large feet and long curved claws, and were about the size of a small barn-door fowl. Their plumage was mostly of a dark olive colour, with tints of brown on the other parts. They were busily employed in eating fallen fruits, and picking up worms and insects, running about here and there at a great rate. Curious to observe them, he hid himself behind a tree, when he saw some, evidently hens, hopping to the top of a large mound, where having scraped away the earth to a considerable depth, they each deposited an egg, covering it up again with the greatest care. "Oh, oh!" thought Dick, "if your eggs are fit to eat, I shall have a good store of provision," and going to the mound he soon shovelled away the earth, beneath which he found a good number of eggs. These he deposited carefully in a handkerchief, wrapping them up with leaves, to prevent them breaking. The birds were a species of megapode, which are found chiefly in Australia and Borneo and the intermediate islands. They are allied to the gallinaceous birds but differ from them in never sitting upon their eggs, which, thus buried in vegetable rubbish, are left to be hatched by heat and fermentation. It is said that a number of birds unite in forming these mounds, and lay their eggs together, but take no further care of their offspring. As soon as the little birds are hatched, they run away from the mound, and at once begin picking up food suitable to them, trusting to their speed to escape from their foes. Dick, of course, knew nothing of this, but was well satisfied at finding so large a supply of fresh-laid eggs. He was also not aware that it was the very mound from which Lord Reginald had obtained the only food, besides shell-fish, he had been able to procure since his arrival in the island. Dick would certainly not otherwise have carried them off. Reaching the sea-shore, he turned back, for fear of encountering Lord Reginald, as he had no wish to have another interview with one who received his advances so ill. "I suppose that he will manage to kill or trap some of those birds for himself," he thought, "or, if he is hard up, that he'll come back and ask my assistance. Meantime I must see what I can do for myself." After hunting about and trying a number of trees, he selected four branches of wood, on which he meant to try experiments to ascertain which was most suited for a crossbow. The stock and string he would have no difficulty in forming. He had the whole plan clearly in his head, and now he had got the eggs, which would last him for two or three days, he was in no hurry to finish it. He found a piece of deal, which could be easily worked, and he immediately commenced cutting it into shape, using his saw, plane, and chisel. The first piece of wood he tried for the bow broke. He had to take another, which bent easily enough, but had not sufficient spring. With the third he was more successful, and was fully satisfied that it would answer his purpose. He formed a string by twisting several lengths of twine tightly together, and he found that he could send a bolt of wood between thirty and forty yards. By the light of his fire he worked away until late in the night, when he was compelled from sleepiness to turn into his cot, with which he was well pleased. It formed a comfortable couch, and neither crabs, nor beetles, nor centipedes, nor other creeping things came near him. Still, he could not go to sleep. His thoughts constantly reverted to the poor young lord, who was resting in his cavern with dry sand, or a bed of leaves, at best, for his couch. "Though he treats me with disdain, I ought not in consequence to allow him to perish. He is proud and obstinate, but, of course, he hasn't liked the way I have spoken to him. I hope to-morrow morning he'll think better of it, and will come to me for assistance, or will send Neptune. It is hard that the poor dog should starve because his master and I have fallen out." Notwithstanding these thoughts which passed through Dick's mind, he did not feel inclined just then to set out in search of Lord Reginald. After thinking over what he would say to him if they met, satisfied with his good intentions, he fell asleep. CHAPTER THIRTEEN. SEEKING FOOD--DISAPPOINTED--SHAPING A BOW--REDUCED TO EXTREMITY--POOR NEP IN DISGRACE--FEVER--HOW DICK FARED--THE CROSSBOW BOLT--A CURING-HOUSE--NEPTUNE'S APPEAL FOR HELP--DICK TURNS NURSE--ALL BUT LOST--A CHANGE OF QUARTERS--LORD REGINALD'S DELIRIUM--FINDING JUICY FRUIT--THE RECOGNITION. Lord Reginald awoke with aching head and confused brain. For some time he lay unable to collect his scattered thoughts. At length he remembered how he had been engaged on the previous evening. He saw the bow he was trying to form, by his side, and Neptune lying down at his feet, keeping watch. As soon as the dog observed that his master was awake, he got up and licked his hands and face, trying to arouse him. "I see you want food; so do I," said Lord Reginald, sitting up. "When I have finished the bow we shall have plenty. In the mean time, we must get a supply of those eggs we found the other day." He tried, as he spoke, to rise. With some exertion he got on his feet, but felt scarcely able to walk. Taking his stick, however, he managed to totter out of the cave. The fresh air of the early morning somewhat revived him, and, followed by Neptune, he made his way towards the curious mound in which he had found the eggs. He felt very giddy, and could scarcely drag his legs along. The necessity of obtaining food, however, compelled him to proceed. Nep kept by his side, looking up into his face, and wondering why he didn't move faster. He had great difficulty in climbing to the top of the mound, and nearly sank down in the attempt. At length he succeeded, when Nep ran forward and began scratching away as he had done before. Lord Reginald, sinking to the ground, watched him. "It appears to me as if some one has visited the place since I was last here," he thought. Nep continued scratching away, but no eggs appeared. As Nep at length enlarged the hole, three eggs were disclosed to sight. Lord Reginald broke one of them, and cast it from him with disgust, for it contained a nearly formed bird. Nep, not being so particular as his master, supposing it was intended for him, without ceremony at once gobbled it up. The second and the third egg were in the same condition. Nep took them also as his share, and afterwards went on scratching away, apparently hoping to find more. Lord Reginald was too weak to help him. "That fellow Hargrave has been here, and carried off all the sound eggs, leaving only these few for the sake of tantalising me," he exclaimed in a bitter tone. After Neptune had scratched over the whole top of the mound, Lord Reginald, finding that he had no chance of obtaining any eggs from it, made his way with tottering steps towards the fountain, at which he and Neptune, as usual, quenched their thirst. It seemed to him, that he could never drink enough to allay the burning fever which raged within him. Neptune ranged about, and showed a great inclination to set off in the direction of Richard Hargrave's hut, but Lord Reginald called him back, jealous of the regard he paid to his rival. "If you play me that trick, master Nep, I shall tie you up. Remember, I will have no paying court to that fellow," he cried out. The dog came back with his tail between his legs, looking as if he would answer, "It will be your loss, master, but I obey you." Greatly refreshed by the water, Lord Reginald found that he had sufficient strength to get to the beach. He managed, not without difficulty, to cut off from the rocks a further supply of clams, with which he returned to his cave. He made up his fire, and dressed some of them. Nep watched him, showing that the eggs had not sufficiently satisfied his hunger. It was with difficulty, however, when cooked, that, hungry as he was, Lord Reginald could eat any of the shell-fish. Even had he been in full health and strength, such food was not sufficient, without vegetables, either to satisfy his hunger or keep him in health. "There, Nep," he said, throwing the remainder to his dog, "they'll suit you better than they do me." Nep ate them up, and then came and lay down by his master's side. "I must try and get this bow finished, old dog. We will then try and procure some venison, or one of those hogs, if I cannot manage to shoot a bird," he said. He took up the stick he had been forming into a bow, and worked away as he had done on the previous night, but he had blunted his knife in cutting off the clams from the rocks, and had no means of sharpening it effectually. He tried to do so on a flat piece of rock, and then on the sole of his shoe, but after an attempt he found that it was very little sharper than before. He discovered, indeed, that he was ignorant of the way to sharpen a knife, as he was of most other arts. At length, however, the bow was finished in a rough fashion, with a notch at each end to hold the string, which had now to be formed. He had first to untwist a piece of rope, then to divide it into small strands, and to twist them up again by means of a winch, which he manufactured like those he had seen on board. The string was much thicker than he wished to make it, but he could not otherwise give it sufficient strength. At last that was finished, and fitted to the bow. He had still the arrows to make. He remembered the reeds he had seen growing by the side of the stream, and rising with difficulty, he dragged himself along, supported by his stick, until he reached the spot. He selected a few of the requisite size and length, but with his blunt knife it took him a long time even to cut one, and his strength was almost exhausted before he had collected half a dozen. With these he returned to the cave. The wings of the pigeons which Nep had left supplied him with feathers, which he bound on to one end. His difficulty was to form points. At first he thought that he could grind down some stones into the required shape, but after labouring away for some time, he had to give up the attempt. He then tried some hard pieces of wood, which he cut into shape and then hardened in the fire. Though not so heavy as he wished, he hoped that they might answer his purpose, and enable him to shoot straight for some distance. He had been all day without food except such shell-fish as he had taken in the morning, and he felt little able to draw his bow with any effect. As soon as he had finished his first arrow he got up, and placing it in the string, shot it along the shore. The arrow took a wavering flight, and flew some fifty yards or so, burying itself in the sand. Nep got up to it, barking with delight, while Lord Reginald crawled after it. On pulling it out, he found to his excessive vexation that the head had come off, and some time was expended in digging it out. Observing that he had not formed a sufficiently deep notch to bind it on tightly, he remedied the error, and was tolerably well satisfied with the result. Having finished the other five arrows, he set out, hoping to return with an ample supply of food. If he could but kill one deer, or a pig, or two or three birds, he would have sufficient to feed both himself and Neptune. The sun was still hot, but in his eagerness he thought little about it, and dragged himself along, hoping soon to see something at which to aim. He would not have disdained even a monkey, if he could kill nothing else. He first made his way to the spring, where he had to quench his burning thirst. He then crawled on until he reached a tree, behind which he stood, hoping that some animal might come by at which he might take a steady aim. He waited and waited, however, in vain. He saw several deer in the distance, but they bounded along far out of range of his bow. At last he saw two hogs come grunting up, turning up the ground with their snouts in search of roots. They approached slowly. Trembling with eagerness, hoping that he might be able to kill one of them, he kept the arrow in the string, ready to shoot. The hogs came on moving from one side to the other, till they had got to within about thirty yards of it, when, fearing that they might suddenly turn off away from the tree, and sure that he could send his arrow to that distance, steadying himself as well as he could, he bent his bow. The arrow flew from the string, but though it struck the hog with a force which made the creature squeak, it glanced off from its thick hide, and both the animals, looking round, scampered away at a rate which made it hopeless to attempt overtaking them. Lord Reginald, however, getting ready another arrow, shot it, but it missed both hogs, who escaped, whisking their tails. He followed to pick up the arrows. Neither of them was broken. He next tried his skill at a cockatoo, but the arrow glanced against a bough, and the bird flew away with a scream of derision,--so poor Lord Reginald thought it. He was equally unsuccessful when aiming at some green pigeons. He had lost five of the arrows, and was almost in despair, when he caught sight of a monkey. He fixed the last arrow to the string and took as he thought a steady aim, but the monkey gave a nimble skip, and went chattering away to a distance, as if fully aware of the evil intended him, while the bow, as it sprang back again, gave a crack, and to Lord Reginald's dismay he found that it was broken. He dashed it down to the ground. "Unfortunate being that I am!" he exclaimed. "Surrounded by plenty, I am doomed to starve." The agitation of his feelings almost overcame him. "I must depend in future for subsistence on the shell-fish, the _very_ taste of which I abhor." With difficulty he staggered towards the cave; that would at all events afford him shelter at night. On the way he stopped to drink at the spring, and fill a large clam-shell which he had previously carried there with water. He could scarcely, however, carry it along without spilling the contents. He at last reached his cave. On looking around he discovered that Neptune was not with him. "The dog has gone off to that fellow Hargrave, for food. I'll take care that he doesn't go again. He ought to be satisfied with what I can get," he exclaimed. Putting down his shell he crawled towards the rocks, and cut off a few clam-shells, sufficient for his supper. He guessed that Nep would not require any. He then made up his fire with the few sticks he had remaining. He was about to throw his bow, which had caused him so much labour, on the top of it, when it occurred to him that by binding it tightly round with string, he might make it stronger than before. He wisely determined to do this. He had just finished eating his supper when Nep appeared. "You ungrateful dog!" exclaimed Lord Reginald. "You have been tempted off by my enemy. I'll take care that you don't go again," and fastening a piece of rope to the animal's collar, he secured it to a portion of the wreck, which had been thrown up not far from the mouth of the cave. Poor Nep looked very much surprised at the way he was treated, but accustomed to obey, he lay down with his face between his paws, while Lord Reginald retired into the cave and threw himself on the ground. While actively engaged, he had for a time thrown off the painful sensation caused by fever, but the terrible disease had now a firm grip on him. His head and limbs ached, his throat burned. Though he drank and drank again from the water which he had brought in the clam-shell, no quantity seemed to assuage his thirst. He was unable to sleep for a moment, tossing about, now rolling on one side, now on the other, and often crying out in the intensity of his sufferings that death might relieve him. Thus the night passed by. Day came, but brought no cessation of the fever, which rather increased than diminished. All day long he lay racked by pain on the cold sand. A mournful howl reached his ears, and he saw Neptune straggling to release himself from the rope which held him. He attempted to rise and set his dog free, but his strength was gone, and he sank back again, unable to crawl from the spot. He thought of home, of his mother and sisters, and of his father, always kind and indulgent to him, whom he would never see again. The recollection of his numberless sinful acts came with fearful force into his mind. "No hope, no hope!" he muttered, as he clenched his hands. "What would I now give for a few weeks, or even days, to redeem the past? That lad Hargrave, whom I tore from his home and ill treated, whose life I took a pleasure in making miserable; he would not forgive me, even if I asked him; and should he discover me he would exult over my sufferings." Such were the thoughts which passed through his brain. Often he groaned with pain, and when at length he had exhausted every drop of water, the fever seemed to increase, and he felt himself growing weaker and weaker. He almost wished that he had shared the fate of Voules and the rest of his companions, and had been drowned before he reached the shore. He had had a few days of grace granted him, but he had made no use of them. Instead of trying to be reconciled to his enemy, he had treated him with haughtiness and contempt. In vain he endeavoured to pray,-- confusion of mind, brought on by fever, prevented him from collecting his thoughts, and all sorts of fearful phantoms passed before him. Again he was on the deck of the _Marie_, surrounded by the dead and dying, when he saw as clearly as if they had been present, the distorted features of the privateersmen struck down by the cutlasses of his crew, and the reports of pistols and clash of steel sounded in his ears. Then once more the tempest was raging, and the sounds of the seas dashing over the ship, the wind howling amid the rigging, the sails flapping wildly from the yards, the creaking timbers, the cries of the crew, were again heard. He attempted to shout to issue his orders, but his voice failed him; not a word could he utter. Sometimes he fancied that he could hear his own voice, at others that it was Nep's loud howls which broke the silence. Another night passed away, and a second morning came. Only a person who had played no tricks with his constitution could have endured what the young lord passed through. He was fully aware at times that he was dying, that unless assistance came he could not survive many hours. He stretched out his hand towards the clam-shell which had contained his stock of water, but it was empty. His tongue felt like a hot burning coal in his mouth. He closed his eyes from very weakness. How long he had thus remained he could not tell, when he was aware that Neptune was licking his hands and face. He had just sense enough left to know that it was his dog, though by what means the animal had got free he could not divine. He heard the faithful creature moan and whine round him and lie down by his side. The little strength he had was rapidly decreasing, and he soon lost all consciousness. In a _very_ different position was Richard Hargrave. With wholesome food and abundance of employment, he retained his health and strength, and his mind had no time to dwell on his forlorn condition. At break of day he rose from his comfortable bed, and kneeling down, said his prayers as he had been wont to do at his mother's knees when a child. He then got up, and considered to what he had best first turn his hand. Not far off from the hut was the log which he was anxious to shape into a canoe, and on his bench in the verandah lay his crossbow, nearly finished, only requiring a few touches to make it perfect, the most important being the arrangement of the lock, that he might let the bolt fly immediately he touched the spring. This done he set to work to form some bolts. The shafts were easily manufactured, but the bolt heads required more time. Hunting in the carpenter's chest he discovered a ladle and a quantity of lead. He then searched about for some clay for forming moulds. He remembered the white appearance of the bank of the stream at a certain spot, and hastening to it, he found, greatly to his satisfaction, that it was composed of exactly the clay suited for his purpose. He soon returned with a sufficient supply to form a mould, hoping to be able to make it of a proper shape with a stem to fit into the shaft. By boring a hole into the stem he was able to secure it with wire firmly to the wood. To give the bolt a sharp point he fixed a large nail ground fine, in the centre of the lead, thus obtaining sufficient weight and sharpness for his object. Although this bolt might be blunted should it strike a bone, yet it was well calculated to pierce the thin skin of a deer, which, from the size of the island, should it only be wounded, he would be certain to find again by tracing the blood stains on the grass. Having formed half a dozen bolts in the way which has been described, he set off on his first hunting expedition. He had not gone far, when a herd of small deer--the only species which existed in the island--came in sight. He had observed on former occasions that when he got to the windward of them they invariably scampered off to a distance, and although no hunter, suspecting the cause, he determined to try and get near them by creeping up from an opposite direction. Hiding himself as much as possible behind the trees and bushes, he made his way towards the herd, making a long circuit until he got well to leeward. Then stooping down he crawled gradually forward, stopping every now and then when he saw their heads turned towards him, but they still continued cropping the grass and the leaves of the bushes and lower branches of the trees. At last he got to within thirty yards of one of the herd, which had separated from its companions. He stood almost breathless, eager to shoot, and yet afraid of missing. He let fly his bolt, which entered the breast of the animal. It staggered for a moment, then turning round, set off with the rest of the herd along the valley. He was provoked at not having killed it at once, for he knew that if often hunted the creatures would grow wild, and he would have great difficulty in getting up to them. He, however, eager to secure the deer, set off running, keeping it in sight. At first the wounded deer went almost as fast as its companions, until it gradually slackened its speed, leaving a long red trail, which grew thicker and thicker, to mark its course. It was soon left behind by the rest of the herd; still it struggled on, until at length Dick saw it stagger, then turn round and finally sink to the ground. He hurried forward, and with a seaman's sheath-knife, which he had found among the things in the carpenter's chest, he quickly put an end to its sufferings. The deer was so small that Dick, whose shoulders were pretty broad, was able to carry home his prize. His wish was to preserve as much of it as possible. He reflected that, as there were only a certain number of deer on the island, were he and Lord Reginald to remain there any length of time, the whole might be destroyed. Had he possessed salt, he would have been able to pickle the venison, for there were plenty of tubs for the purpose. Though he knew very well that he could obtain salt, yet the flesh of the deer would have become uneatable long before he could get a sufficient quantity. He had read somewhere of a mode of preserving the flesh of animals by drying it in the sun, and he had also seen his mother smoke bacon, so he determined to try both these ways. The preserved meat might also be of the greatest use, should he determine to sail away from the island in the canoe he was about to build. On reaching home, for such his hut was to him, he set to work to skin and cut up the deer. He then lighted a fire, and put a shoulder and leg on to roast, that he might at all events preserve this much, should his experiments fail. A portion of the remainder he cut into thin strips, which he hung up to a cross-pole, supported on two forked sticks. He had great faith, however, in his plan for smoking venison. As there was clay near at hand, he mixed a quantity with grass, and quickly built up a square tower, with an entrance below and rafters across it, and a wooden roof. As he knew that it would be necessary to have a draught to keep up the fire, he formed tunnels under the tower. He had now his curing-house complete. He worked very hard, as he was aware that the flesh would very rapidly become uneatable. Having hung up the remainder, he placed a fire inside, piled up with green wood, which burnt slowly, producing a large amount of smoke. Not until he had done this did he--hungry as he was--fall to on the venison. Scarcely had he put a morsel in his mouth than he thought of Lord Reginald. "I wonder whether he has been able to procure any food like this," he said to himself. "If not it will go hard with him, for although shell-fish may do very well for a short time, with nothing else to live on they would prove very unwholesome. However, I suppose he will come to his senses by-and-by. If he makes his appearance, I shall be glad to offer some to him. Fancy the proud young gentleman coming, hat in hand, and asking for a slice of venison! I wonder poor Nep doesn't show himself, as before, to get a meal. I should have thought his instinct would have induced him to come. Surely his master cannot be so cruel as to keep him back, unless he has found plenty of food for him." Such thoughts occupied Dick's mind while he ate a hearty meal, the most abundant he had enjoyed since the shipwreck. He had just finished, and having hung up the remainder of the roast meat, was about to add more fuel to the fire in his curing-house, when by chance looking up the valley, he saw Neptune scampering rapidly along towards him. "Oh, oh! knowing old fellow! He's found out there's something to eat in this direction," said Dick. "He shall have it, too, and willingly would I give it to his master." As Neptune drew near, Dick was surprised to observe a piece of rope round his neck, and a part trailing on the ground two or three feet in length. In a minute Nep was up to him, licking his hand. Dick was at once struck with his woebegone, starved appearance; the very countenance of the dog seemed changed; there was even an expression of melancholy in his eye, which spoke as much as words could have done. Dick examined the rope, which was a pretty thick one, such as Neptune, strong as he might be, could not have broken. The end, he was convinced, had been gnawed through. "Now, if that young lord hasn't had the barbarity to tie up the dog, to prevent its coming to me," he exclaimed. "He deserves to starve, and I suspect he and the dog have been doing that for some days, or Nep would not look so thin and miserable," and he returned to his larder, followed by Nep, who ravenously bolted the pieces of meat which he gave him. The dog, though he had had a good meal, did not seem content, but evidently wished to convey some intelligence to his entertainer. He first ran off in the direction of the cave, and then seeing that Dick did not follow, came back and uttered a low bark; then away again he went, almost immediately to return, when he seized Dick by the trousers, evidently wishing him to accompany him, and then looked up at him in an imploring manner, which could not be misunderstood. "I suppose Lord Reginald is ill, or has met with some accident, and the dog wants me to go and help him. Well, I ought to do it, there's no doubt about that," said Dick, moving a few paces in the direction the dog had taken. On this Nep uttered a bark indicative of his satisfaction, coming back and licking Dick's hand, then running on again. Dick had no longer any doubt that Nep was anxious to take him to his master, and he set off at a rapid rate, while Nep bounded away before him, uttering the same sort of bark as before, to hurry him on. "The poor fellow may be dying," thought Dick, his kindly feelings overcoming all sense of the injuries he had received. "The sooner I get to him the better, or I may be too late to render him any help." On this, greatly to Nep's delight, he began to run as fast as he could, leaping over the fallen trees, allowing no impediment to stop him. He stopped for a moment to pick some juicy fruit resembling limes, which grew on a tree in his path, on which Nep came back and gave another pull at his trousers, as if fearing that he was going to stop. On passing the fountain he found a large clam-shell, which had evidently been left there by some one. He expected every moment to find Lord Reginald stretched on the ground, dead or dying, but Nep still kept on until he reached the sea-shore. He then saw the dog enter the cavern. At first he felt unwilling to follow, but Nep quickly rushed out again, and once more seizing his trousers, pulled away until Dick showed that he understood him. On going in he perceived in the dim light the unfortunate young nobleman extended on the sand, in a stupor so nearly resembling death that he started back in horror, fully believing that his spirit had already fled. Fearful, indeed, had been the effect of the fever. The expression of his handsome features was changed, his countenance had assumed the hue of death. His eyes, half closed and fixed, had lost all signs of intelligence. His lips were parched and burning. His hair, tangled and disordered, hung in masses over his fine brow. Dick, on kneeling down, felt greatly relieved on discovering that he still breathed, though unconscious of his approach. He lifted the young nobleman's hand. The palm was dry and burning. In an instant, forgetful of the enmity which existed between himself and the unhappy sufferer, he bitterly regretted that he had not, when he came to his hut, attempted to gain his good will. He remembered that once when a child he himself had been attacked by a fever, which had brought him to the brink of the grave; he had then received the greatest kindness from the marchioness, who had brought delicious grapes from the hot-house, and ices, which had, his mother always told him, done much to preserve his life. "If he had treated me ten times worse than he has done, I ought to endeavour to do my best to attend to his wants," said Dick. As he thought of this, he endeavoured to raise the head of the sufferer, who uttered a sound in so mournful and low a tone that Dick could not at first understand him, but on bending over him, he caught the single word "water." Dick looked eagerly round, the shell was empty. He then bethought him of the fruit he had picked, and cutting one of them in two, he allowed a few drops of juice to trickle into Lord Reginald's mouth. This had an almost instantaneous effect. He squeezed out a larger quantity; some minutes more elapsed, when at length Lord Reginald became conscious of the relief, and eagerly swallowed the refreshing juice. Still Dick saw that his chance of recovery, while he remained in the cave, was very small, and after reflecting awhile he came to the conclusion that he ought, if possible, to remove him to his own hut. This would be no easy task, but Dick's arms were strong, and once having made up his mind, he lost no time in carrying out his intention. Nep stood by, anxiously watching him, apparently perfectly satisfied with what he was doing. Lifting the young nobleman up as if he were a child, he carried him out of the cave, and made his way towards the fountain, every moment expecting to see his hapless burden breathe his last. The fountain, however, was reached; then, placing him on the grass, he poured some of the refreshing fluid down his throat. This seemed greatly to revive him, and he thanked Dick, sometimes addressing him as his brother, and sometimes as "Voules." "You are a better fellow than I took you for," he murmured. "Poor old Toady! I thought you would have left me to shift for myself; but we have gone through strange scenes. Didn't you die, and didn't I bury you? but I'm glad you've come to life again, and I won't have you laughed at behind your back." Thus he rambled on, but soon again relapsed into unconsciousness. Dick had to stop several times to rest himself, but as he was anxious to get the sufferer within the shelter of his hut, he went on again the moment he felt able to proceed. Great was his relief when at length he placed the young lord in his cot. He was aware that he must not venture to give him meat; indeed, the poor young man could not have swallowed it had he made the attempt, but he at once mixed him some of the juice of the fruit with water. Lord Reginald had swooned from weakness, and from being carried along so far in the open air. For many hours he lay in a state of stupor. Dick sat by his side, continually moistening his lips with the juice of the fruit and water, and bathing the sufferer's hands and temples, while he anxiously watched for returning life. All night long he sat up, fanning his brow with the feathers of some of the birds he had killed, and keeping away the stinging insects which flew into the hut. The next morning Lord Reginald opened his eyes and exclaimed in a dreamy tone, "Where am I? What has happened?" "You are well cared for, my lord," answered Dick; "but don't talk; you'll get round the sooner if you keep quiet." Lord Reginald's answer showed that he was still in a state of delirium. "Thanks, Julia; thanks, mother; you have nursed me very tenderly. I'll do as you wish, only don't let that young ruffian Hargrave come near me. He has been the bane of my life. I wish that we had got him out of the _Wolf_ before we sailed from home, or that a chance shot had taken his head off. You don't know what I went through when I was wrecked on that horrible island. He came and taunted me, and would have left me to die in a wretched cave by myself, while he was living luxuriously on birds, deer, and pigs that he killed." Having thus rambled on for some time, Lord Reginald began to blame himself, and to confess that he had allowed Dick to be unjustly treated, and had instigated Toady Voules and others to behave ill to him. These latter expressions greatly relieved Dick's mind, although the abuse which Lord Reginald had showered on his head would not have made him less attentive to his patient's wants. For hours together the latter rambled on; sometimes he fancied himself at home, and asked for ices and peaches and grapes from the hot-houses, turning his eyes to Dick, and ordering him to bring them immediately. The word "grapes" reminded Dick that he had seen a juicy fruit somewhat resembling the grape of temperate climes, of which several of the birds of the island appeared to be very fond. He hurried out to search for them, leaving Nep to watch by his master's side. He was fortunate in discovering some bunches which appeared ripe, and instantly returned with them. Dick ate several himself, to ascertain their character, and was satisfied that they were wholesome and at the same time nutritious, though far less juicy than real grapes. On his return, Lord Reginald abused him, supposing him to be one of the servants, for having been so long away; then eagerly seizing the fruit with an expression of joy, he endeavoured to convey it to his mouth, but such was his weakness that, letting it drop, he asked Dick to feed him. Dick bore all the abuse he got with the greatest patience. At length, exhausted by the violence of the fever, Lord Reginald sank again into a death-like stupor, in which he lay without moving the whole night and until the next day was far advanced. Dick, as before, continued to bathe his hands and face at intervals, and when perceiving by the painful motion of his lips that he wanted something to drink, he raised his head and placed to his lips a shell full of the juice of several fruits which he had collected. Lord Reginald eagerly drank this delicious beverage, then, opening his eyes, which Dick thought would never again have unclosed, the young lord looked up in his face, as if to thank him for the relief. Dick saw by the expression of wonder and astonishment in those eyes, so lately fixed and rayless, that he knew him, and that the delirium had passed away. Lord Reginald tried to speak, the colour for a moment mounted to his pallid cheek as he said, "Hargrave, I don't deserve this kindness at your hands." Then with a deep sigh he once more relapsed into insensibility. CHAPTER FOURTEEN. SELF-REPROACH--THE CRISIS OVER--A STORM--RETURNING TO LIFE--GRATITUDE TO DICK--A RIGHT UNDERSTANDING--TURTLE-CATCHING--GAINING STRENGTH--DICK'S CARE REWARDED--AN AGREEABLE SURPRISE--SOMETHING TO READ--A REFRESHING CHANGE--HAT-MAKING--HARDLY STRONG ENOUGH--GOING ON WITH THE CANOE--A DESIGN ON THE PORKERS--PIG-DRIVING--COFFEE BERRIES AND SUGAR-CANES DISCOVERED--AN EARTHQUAKE--GRAVE APPREHENSIONS--THE BURNING MOUNTAIN. Richard Hargrave sat by Lord Reginald's cot, watching his sufferings, with the anxiety and sorrow he would have felt for a brother and dear friend. Not a spark of animosity remained. In his heart he fully believed that the young lord would die, and was ready to accuse himself of being his murderer. Only a short time during each day did he venture to leave him, to set his traps, or shoot birds, or collect fruits, which latter were more especially required by the sufferer. On each occasion when he hurried back, he dreaded to find that his patient had expired during his absence. Neptune was always left in charge, as Dick hoped that the instinct of the dog would induce him to summon him should he be required. He was well aware that it would be dangerous to give any heavy food to the sufferer, and yet he dreaded, lest by taking too little, he might die of starvation. There was, however, he hoped, sufficient nutriment in the fruit to keep up his strength without increasing the fever. Day after day went by, and the violence of the complaint in no way appeared to abate, nor did the young lord recover his reason except at long intervals, when the words he uttered showed that he was fully aware of his own condition. His thoughts were evidently of a gloomy character, as he was constantly uttering expressions of self-reproach. No longer petulant or impatient, he appeared sunk in the deepest despondency. This change of ideas was more alarming even than his wild fits of raving to Dick, who began to accuse himself of being the cause of much of the young lord's conduct. He considered their difference of rank; he recollected his own defiant looks and expressions, which had so often aroused his rival's anger. "Had I treated him with respect, which of course he thought his due, and avoided him as much as possible, he would soon have forgotten a person so much beneath him in rank," exclaimed Dick. "True, he abused his power on board the _Marie_; but how have I behaved since we were thrown together on this island?" At last one morning, Lord Reginald appeared to drop off into a more quiet slumber than usual, and Dick was induced to go out in search of game with his crossbow in his hand. Scarcely had he left his hut than several deer, without discovering him, came bounding by. He shot a bolt, one of the animals was struck, and immediately fell dead to the ground. Thankful for his success, he quickly returned with it, and having skinned it he cut up a portion into small bits, which he put into a pot, with the intention of making some broth. Several times while thus engaged, he returned to the side of Lord Reginald, who still slept on. He had obtained from the rocks a small quantity of salt, sufficient to flavour the broth. While it was boiling he roasted another piece of meat, and hung up the remainder in his smoking-house, which had answered beyond his expectations. Though the meat dried in the sun might keep, yet it was hard and dry, and presented a far from satisfactory appearance. He had observed signs of a change of weather. Clouds had been collecting for some time in the sky. Scarcely had he completed his culinary operations, than the rain began to pour in torrents, while the thunder rolled, and flashes of vivid lightning darted from the clouds. The fire was put out, but Dick managed to keep the broth warm. He anxiously watched Lord Reginald, expecting that the roar of the thunder would awaken him, but he slept quietly through the storm, and appeared to be breathing more easily than before. At length the thunder-clouds rolled off, the wind ceased, and the air appeared far purer than it had hitherto been. Dick, who had opened the shutter, which he had kept shut during the rain, went to the door to open that also and enjoy the fresh air. He was standing inhaling it with much satisfaction, when he heard Lord Reginald's voice exclaiming-- "What has happened? Is that you, Hargrave?" Dick hurried to the side of the cot, and was thankful to observe a marked change for the better, in Lord Reginald's countenance, which, though thin and pale, had a composed appearance. "Do not be agitated, my lord," said Dick; "you have been very ill, but I trust you may now recover, as the worst is past I would advise you not to talk, but let me give you some broth, which I have fortunately just prepared. It will assist to restore your strength quicker than the fruits on which you have so long lived." Saying this, without waiting for a reply, Dick poured some of the soup into a shell, which he presented to the invalid. "Hargrave, I can scarcely believe my senses!" said Lord Reginald. "I don't deserve this kind treatment at your hands. Have you really been watching over me all this time?" "Do not talk about it, my lord," said Dick. "Here, take this; it may not be first-rate soup, but I think it will do you good." As he spoke he placed the shell to the lips of his patient, who taking it in both his hands, drank off the contents. "First-rate stuff, whatever it is," murmured Lord Reginald. "Pray give me some more, I feel it putting new life into me. I have had a narrow escape, I suspect. If it hadn't been for you, Hargrave, I should have died; I am fully aware of that." "I only did my duty, and I am thankful to see your lordship so much better," said Dick. "You are a generous, noble fellow, Hargrave, that I know, for, after the way I treated you, I had no right to expect that you would trouble yourself about me." "I should never have forgiven myself if I hadn't done my best to look after your lordship," answered Dick, turning away to make some of the cooling drink, which had hitherto proved so beneficial to his patient. "Hargrave, my dear fellow," said Lord Reginald, in a comparatively strong tone of voice, "can you really forgive me?" "My lord, I am sure I need your forgiveness, so pray don't ask me to forgive you, though I do so most heartily. Let bygones be bygones. It will be the happiest day of my life when I see you restored to perfect health." "Hargrave, I wonder I could have been guilty of persecuting a man capable of such generous conduct," exclaimed Lord Reginald. "Again I say, my lord, don't talk about it," answered Dick, observing that Lord Reginald was becoming too much agitated. "I trust in a short time that you will be well enough to say what you think fit; but I want you to understand that not a particle of ill feeling, to the best of my belief, remains in my heart." "I must say what I have got to say, or I may never have an opportunity," replied Lord Reginald; "for what I can tell I may not have another interval of reason. I wish to assure you that I die at peace with you, and pray for forgiveness from all I have ever ill treated. When I am gone, cut off a lock of my hair, and if you ever reach home give it to my mother, and tell her that one of my greatest regrets was not being able to see her and my brothers and sisters again, and confessing to my father that I had attempted to misrepresent you to him. Again, I ask, can you forgive me?" and Lord Reginald stretched out his emaciated hands towards Dick, who gave his in return, as he answered-- "Yes, yes, indeed I do, most heartily." As Lord Reginald grasped his hand, he pressed it to his lips, and burst into tears. Dick felt a choking sensation, such as he had never before experienced, and turned away from a delicacy of feeling, lest Lord Reginald should be ashamed of the agitation he was exhibiting. He felt also very anxious to calm the mind of his patient, who in his weak state was ill able to undergo any excitement. For a long time after this the poor young lord was unable to rise from his cot, but every day Dick observed a change for the better, it being a good sign that he evidently enjoyed the food provided for him. Dick had now to leave him for a much longer time than before to the care of Neptune, who never quitted his master's side during his absence. One night, after his day's work was over, Dick had wandered down to the sea-shore, with a thick stick in his hand, which he usually carried to defend himself, should he encounter any savage beasts, as he thought that such might possibly exist, though he had not hitherto seen them. As he approached the beach, he caught sight on the white sand of some dark objects, which were crawling up slowly from the sea. Though he had never before seen any, he at once guessed that they were turtles. He remained concealed, so as to allow them, without being frightened, to reach the upper part of the beach, where they began scratching away and depositing their eggs. "We shall have food enough now, without diminishing the stock of wild animals on shore," thought Dick. "Those are just the things to do Lord Reginald good. If we have to make a voyage, we can lay in a good store of them." He wisely waited until a number of turtles had deposited their eggs in the sand, then rushing from his place of concealment, he turned over half a dozen on their backs, thus effectually preventing them from making their escape. Then, seizing one by the hind legs, he dragged it up towards his hut, when he killed it. Lord Reginald was still awake. He ran in and told him the good news. "I wish that I could get up and help you, Hargrave," was the answer. "Do not think of it, my lord," said Dick. "I can manage them by myself," and away he again started, and dragged up in succession the remainder of his captives. These, however, he did not kill. He determined, if possible, to keep them alive until the flesh of the first was consumed. They might exist on their backs, he knew, for a considerable time, but he rightly feared that the heat would kill them, unless he could bring up a sufficient quantity of water to pour over them. This would be a severe task, and it appeared to him that the best thing he could do would be to build a pen, and enclose these and any others he might catch on subsequent nights. He accordingly at once, as the moon was bright, set about carrying out his intention. By actively plying his axe, he cut down a number of thick stakes, which he drove into the sand just above high-water mark, so that by digging a channel he might let the sea in at every high tide. As he had abundance of rope, he lashed some cross bars along the sides, so as to keep the stakes firm. He saw there was no necessity for putting the perpendicular stakes close together, as the turtles were upwards of two feet across, and could not manage to get through a less space. In a couple of hours he had finished his task, and dragging back the turtles he allowed them to crawl about in their natural position. He waited until the next morning to roof in his pen, which was necessary, he saw, for the sake of keeping the turtles cool. "You have worked hard, my dear Hargrave," said Lord Reginald, when he returned. "I should not have thought of attempting the task until to-morrow morning. It would have taken me the whole day, or probably longer. As soon as I am well, you must teach me how to use your tools, and let me help you, for I have no desire to eat the bread of idleness." "I have been accustomed to carpentering since I was a boy, so that what your lordship would find difficult would prove easy to me," answered Dick; "but I should be very thankful if your lordship will think fit to work at the canoe which I thought of building before you were taken ill. I haven't seen a single vessel pass since we have been here, and perhaps none will come near us for many months to come. We might find it necessary to quit the island to rejoin our ship or to get on board some other vessel. In the mean time we may use our boat to go out fishing, and thus obtain a change of diet." "A boat! Do you really mean to say that you could build a boat?" asked Lord Reginald in a tone of surprise. "I intend to try and do so, for though I have never actually built one, I have assisted in repairing several, and know how they are put together," answered Dick, and he then explained the character of the craft he proposed to build. "My idea is, that when your lordship can take a part in the work, we may build one large enough to carry us to Batavia, or to one of the other places of which the English have of late taken possession." "I really don't know that you ought to count much on my help, though I'll do my best," said Lord Reginald; "but the idea is a capital one, and I long to get well to be able to help you. But you must be pretty tired by this time, and you ought to lie down and get some sleep. I feel ashamed of keeping you so long out of your cot." "Thank you, my lord. If I thought it worth while I would soon make another for myself; but my bed is as comfortable as I want, and I beg you will not think I miss the cot," was the answer. Dick awoke early, and found Lord Reginald sleeping soundly and calmly. As he watched him he began to hope that he might recover, and he knelt down and prayed that he might be made the instrument of restoring him to health. His patient gave no sign of waking. Dick, having first made up his fire ready for cooking breakfast, went down to the shore, to see how the turtles had behaved in their pen. He found to his satisfaction that although they had turned up the sand, they had not escaped. He at once cut a number of boughs to place over the top and the upper part of the eastern side, so as to shade them from the heat of the sun, which rose before he had completed his task. He then returned, and looking into his hut, found that his companion was still sleeping. He now set to work to cut up the turtle, and to cook some of it for breakfast. He felt very doubtful as to how this should be done, but thought he should be safe in putting some on to stew, and in carving some cutlets, which he placed before the fire to cook, as he had done the venison. He also kneaded some cakes as thin and delicate-looking as he could make them. This done, he entered the hut, when he found Lord Reginald sitting up in his cot. "I should much wish, Hargrave, to get up and wash my hands and face, but I feel so weak that I am afraid I could not accomplish it alone. May I venture to ask you to assist me?" he said, in a hesitating tone. "My lord, I should be delighted to help you; but I am sure you had better not make the attempt. I'll get some water. I have a piece of cloth which will serve as a towel, and as I have a comb which I found in the carpenter's chest, I will, if you will let me, comb out your hair, and try and make you comfortable." "Thank you, thank you," answered Lord Reginald; "but I feel ashamed of giving you trouble." Dick smiled, and, going out, returned with a large clam-shell, which made an excellent basin, filled with water. Lord Reginald in vain made the attempt to wash his face. Dick, placing the shell before him, performed the office, and having washed his hands and combed his hair, with as much care as his mother might have done, the young lord repeated his thanks, and assured Dick he felt quite another being. "I hope you will feel still better," said Dick, producing several clam-shells, one containing several nicely cooked cakes, another some turtle cutlets, a third some stewed turtle, while a fourth was full of the several fruits he had gathered. "I have cooked a variety of dishes; but after your illness your lordship may fancy one more than another. Just tell me what you like best, and I will try and prepare it for you." "Thank you, Hargrave; I feel as if I could eat a whole turtle, or a deer for that matter," answered Lord Reginald, laughing in a way which greatly cheered Dick's spirits. However, on making the attempt, Lord Reginald found that a very small quantity satisfied him, and Dick did not press him to eat more. Every day after this he made rapid progress, though Dick would not allow him for some time to get up or do anything for himself. In the mean time, Dick dug out of the sand a number of turtles' eggs, which he hung up in bags in a cool place in the shade, hoping thus to preserve them. He also caught several more turtles, which he turned into his pen. He was never idle, sometimes working in his garden, in which he had planted a number of seeds, some evidently of melons and pumpkins, from which he hoped in a short time to obtain fruit. Of the nature of others he was not acquainted, but he had little doubt that they would prove useful in some way or other. Outside the hut he had built a storehouse, in which he placed all the articles which had been cast on shore. He had one morning taken his crossbow and gone out before sunrise in the hopes of killing a deer or some birds, that he might afford a variety of diet to Lord Reginald, knowing that such would contribute greatly to restore his strength. The deer, however, were too wild, and he was led further from home than he intended. At last, in despair of killing one, he looked out for some of the feathered tribe, and succeeded in knocking over a couple of white cockatoos and a green pigeon, with which he hurried back to the hut. On his return, he was greatly surprised to see Lord Reginald not only dressed, but employing himself in preparing breakfast. "I am sorry, my lord, that I was not back earlier," exclaimed Dick, "that I might have helped you to dress." "I regret that you should have had so long to undertake a task which I ought to have performed myself, had I been able. Do not speak about it, my kind Hargrave," answered Lord Reginald, smiling. "I feel myself bound to take an equal share in all the work we have got to do. You have hitherto toiled for me, and it is now my business to work for you. Just tell me what you want done, and I will do it to the best of my power." "Pray don't talk in that way, my lord," said Dick. "I wish that you knew how much pleasure I feel in serving you." "I am sure of that; but once for all, Hargrave, I want you to understand that while we remain on this island I am `Reginald' or `Oswald,' and you are `Hargrave,' the better man of the two. Don't `My lord' me any more. I am not worthy of it. That sort of style may do very well in Old England, or on board a man-of-war, though my messmates there treated me as an equal, and took good care to make me feel that I was one, too. Will you accept my services, and let me work under your orders?" "I cannot refuse you anything," answered Dick; "but until you are as strong and hearty as I am, you must let me work for you, and not knock yourself up by attempting tasks for which you have not the strength." "Well, well, my dear Hargrave, we understand each other, and while we are talking the turtle and cakes are getting cold." Dick at last, getting Lord Reginald to sit down on one of the three-legged stools he had made, placed the breakfast on the table. "There is one thing you are not provided with, Hargrave, that is tea and sugar," observed Lord Reginald; "but perhaps we may find some substitute. Coffee grows in these latitudes, and very likely we may find sugar-cane in some part of the island." "I saw some pods full of seeds, looking in shape _very_ much like coffee berries, only they were white," said Dick. "That was because they were unroasted," answered Lord Reginald. "I should not be surprised if those seeds were really coffee berries, and if so we shall soon have something to drink instead of this nectar, of which I confess I am beginning to get very tired, delicious as it tasted while I was suffering from fever." Dick sighed as he thought, "Perhaps the young lord will get tired of other things, as also of my society, when he regains his strength." His companion looked at him, but made no remark. "What about the boat you propose building?" asked Lord Reginald, when breakfast was over. "Could not we begin on that? And if you will show me how I can best help you, we will lose no time." "I am very sure your lordship--I beg your pardon--you are not strong enough to do any heavy work," answered Dick, "especially in the sun. I must first make you a hat such as I wear, which will help to guard your head, and we will then, in the cool of the evening, begin work. We must first strip off the bark from the outside, then cut away the angles at the bows and stern. By-the-by, I have just remembered finding some books in an officer's chest, and though I cannot read them, as they are in French, they may amuse you while I am at work." "That is fortunate," exclaimed Lord Reginald. "Pray get the books, and let me have a look at them. I shall be very glad to read while you are at work, if you still insist on my not helping you." Dick hurried out to his store-room, and soon returned with several volumes. Two were on navigation, another on astronomy, and a fourth on natural history; but Lord Reginald found that the others were not such as were likely to prove edifying either to himself or Dick. He first took up one, and glancing over its pages, said, "Throw that into the fire." A second and a third were treated in the same way. He looked at the last more carefully, but finished by saying, "Let that go, too. I am very sure that it will be better not to read at all than to fill our minds with the evil thoughts such works as these are likely to create. I should at one time have been amused, and considered that there was no harm in perusing such tales. After being so mercifully preserved, I look at matters in a very different light. I am sure that allowing our minds to dwell on any such subjects as those books contained, is offensive to a pure and holy God. What would I not give for some really well-written books, and more than anything for a Bible, which, after all, as I have often heard my mother say, is the Book of books." "I have heard my mother say the same," observed Dick. "I am very thankful that you have put the temptation out of our way." "What else did you find in the chest?" asked Lord Reginald. "Some nautical instruments, which, although they are French, I dare say you know how to use," said Dick. "And,--how stupid I was not to think of it before!--some shirts and waistcoats and other articles of dress. I must get you to put them on at once, while I wash out your own linen: they will add much to your comfort, and though they may be damp, the sun will soon dry them." Dick immediately hung out the French officers' clothing, and then brought a clam-shell, larger than an ordinary foot-tub, full of water, that Lord Reginald might enjoy a bath, which he had hitherto been afraid of taking. "I feel quite like a new man!" exclaimed the young lord, after he had dressed himself. "If you will not let me work to-day, I hope by to-morrow to show that I can do something. It won't be for the want of will if I don't succeed." Dick, who had before this gone out, had returned with a supply of palm leaves, and sat down to make a hat, while Lord Reginald opened one of the books, and with considerable fluency translated a portion of its contents. Dick listened attentively while he plaited away at the hat, stopping every now and then to ask for an explanation. "I am glad to see you take interest in the subject," said Lord Reginald, "and if we continue it, I shall not only improve myself, but be able to give you a good notion of navigation. The instruments, which are the same as we use, will help us, and in a short time you will become as good a navigator as I am, as this book is evidently a capital one." Dick looked up and smiled. "You see, you can instruct me in some things, as well as I can teach you how to handle a saw or a plane." "All right!" said Lord Reginald, laughing; "so much the better; we are quits, as I said." Dick was longer than he otherwise might have been in making the hat. When it was finished, his companion declared that it was capital, and that it would thoroughly defend his head from the rays of the sun. Dick had made the top very thick, while the sides were strong and light, with openings all round, which allowed of ample ventilation. He then insisted on Lord Reginald lying down while he went out to attend to his turtle-pens and garden, and to prepare a large saw to use on the boat. In the evening Lord Reginald declared that he felt quite able to commence work. "I don't want to hinder you," said Dick; "but I am afraid that you will find your strength not equal to the task." Lord Reginald, however, insisted on trying, and Dick, notching the wood, fixed the saw ready for work, he taking one end and Lord Reginald the other, but before the latter had pulled it backwards and forwards a dozen times he had to confess that he could not go on, and sat down completely exhausted. Dick instantly ran and got some broth he had prepared for supper. Though the young lord revived after he had swallowed some of it, Dick insisted that he should not again make the attempt, and persuaded him to sit down in the shade, while he, with his axe, began stripping off the bark. Dick pursued the plan followed by boys when cutting out a model boat. He first carefully planed the upper surface, using a level, until he was satisfied that it was perfectly even. He then began pencilling out the form of the upper works, so that both sides might be exactly even, avoiding the risk of making the boat lop-sided. "You seem to me, Hargrave, to bestow a great deal of pains on the work you are about," observed Lord Reginald. "You will have to scoop out the whole centre part; what can be the use of polishing it down in that fashion?" "If I don't do that I may run the chance of not having the sides even," answered Dick. "Now, all we have got to do, when we have formed the upper part, will be to turn it over, so that the log may lay quite flat, and, with the aid of some forms which I propose making, shape out the two sides. Though by using the forms we shall take longer than if we did without them, it will be better than trusting only to the eye." Before dark Dick had made some progress, but as he could not expect much help from Lord Reginald for some days, he determined in the mean time to prepare the wood which he would require for the gunwale, and also the forms. For the latter purpose he used some flat boards, which, as the canoe was four feet wide, required only to be a little more than two feet broad. This latter work he was able to carry on indoors during the evening, while Lord Reginald assisted him in drawing out the plan. They agreed that it was important to give the boat a flat floor, though she might be made more seaworthy by having a deep keel, which could be easily bolted on. Before they lay down to rest that night, they had in their minds' eye completed the craft. Dick saw Lord Reginald busily drawing on a blank page in one of the books. "There, Hargrave; that's what our craft will be like," he said, when he had finished, handing him the paper. "You see, I give her three lugs, with a flying main-topsail, so that we can carry plenty of sail, if required, or get her quickly under snug canvas. By raising the gunwale two feet all round, and decking over the fore and after ends, we shall have plenty of room to stow away our provisions, and be able to go through a pretty heavy sea. She'll be a fine craft, depend upon that, and I shall feel quite proud when we run alongside the old _Wolf_ and hail her, to ask `What ship is that?' as if we didn't know her." "I am afraid it will be many a long day before we get the boat to look like that," observed Dick. "Digging her out will be a tedious business, I suspect, and it will take a considerable time, after the lower part of the hull is finished, to raise the gunwale and put on the deck. Then, remember, we have to fit her with outriggers, which we must make as strong as possible, or they may chance to be carried away." "Oh, you don't know how hard I shall work when I once begin," answered Lord Reginald. "I can fancy myself already chopping and sawing and chiselling away under your directions, for I shall leave all the more delicate work to you, though, as I improve, I may be able to help you in that also." Notwithstanding Lord Reginald's eagerness to begin, Dick saw the next day that he was far too weak to do any work out of doors. He could sit only in the shade, with a book in his hand, or watching him as he laboured at the bench. "Why, Hargrave, you ought to have been rated as one of the carpenter's crew, for you work as well as the best of them could do. However, I hope, when we return on board the frigate, that you may have a far higher rating than that. You will have learned navigation by that time." "I'm afraid that will not be of much use to a man before the mast," observed Dick. "But, my dear Hargrave, I hope you won't always remain before the mast," answered Lord Reginald. "I don't see any chance of my ever being anywhere else; and pray do not raise my expectations, as I should never have thought myself of being promoted, except some day, perhaps, after I have more experience, I may become a warrant officer," said Dick. "Well, well, perhaps I ought not to have spoken of my own hopes and wishes," replied Lord Reginald. "I let out a thought which has been in my head for some days, and I would on no account try to raise hopes which may never be realised." Eager as Dick was to work at the boat, he was compelled to make excursions in search of game, and he seldom returned without two or three birds or a small deer. Besides opossums, he had occasionally caught sight of a tiger-cat, which, however, was not of a size to make him fear that it would venture to attack him, savage as it appeared while climbing a tree or leaping from bough to bough. Though he had no wish to interfere with the tiger-cat, he had a great fancy for catching some of the pigs which scampered about beneath the trees, picking up fruits and nuts, and digging for roots. His bolts, though capable of penetrating the more delicate skin of the deer, glanced off the thick hide of the pigs. He bethought him, therefore, after watching their runs, that he would make a pitfall in which some might be caught without difficulty. Finding the ground tolerably soft, he set to work immediately with a wooden spade, and dug a hole four feet square and the same in depth, which he covered over carefully with bushes and earth. His success was greater than he expected, for the very next day, on visiting the pit, he found two fat porkers grunting away at the bottom, and tumbling over each other, in vain endeavouring to extricate themselves from their prison. Running back to the hut for a rope, he managed to get it with a slip-knot over the hinder leg of one of the pigs, which he quickly hauled out. He took the precaution of having a thick pointed stick in readiness, should the pig attempt to charge him. At first the animal lay on the ground, astonished at the unusual treatment it was receiving. Dick then getting his stick ready in one hand and the rope in the other, gave a pull away from the hut. The pig instantly jumped up and dashed off at full speed, in the direction Dick wanted it to go. He followed, laughing, every now and then giving a pull at the rope, which he kept as tight as he could, at the same time holding his stick ready for his defence. With loud squeaks and angry grunts, on it rushed towards Lord Reginald, who was quietly reading, seated on the ground in the shade, while Dick shouted and laughed in addition. The noise aroused the young lord, who started up with looks of astonishment in his countenance. He was just in time to leap out of the way, when the pig charged full at the spot where he had been sitting, Dick being only just able to check the brute's progress, but he managed to bring it up by making the rope fast round small tree which came in his way. No sooner was the pig thus brought to a stand, than, looking round, it espied its captor, who, however, springing back, avoided the onslaught. The pig, after making several strenuous efforts to escape, grunting and squeaking terrifically all the time, exhausted by its exertions, lay down, with its keen eyes watching for an opportunity of revenging itself. "I say, Hargrave, I might try my hand at building a pig-sty," said Lord Reginald. "I doubt that I am capable of any higher style of architecture, but I think I can accomplish that." "At first it occurred to me that we might build one," answered Dick; "but I now think that it would occupy too much of our time, as it must be a very different style of structure to our turtle-pen. This fellow would soon knock down any building, unless very strongly put up. I should be sorry to see your lordship engaged in such work." "`Your lordship,' you should say, `is not capable of so stupendous an undertaking,'" remarked Lord Reginald, laughing. "But I say, Hargrave, you are forgetting our compact. Call me `Reginald' or `Oswald,' which you please." "I beg pardon," said Dick; "but if this fellow cannot be taught to behave himself, the sooner we turn him into bacon the better, and we can keep his companion in the pit until we want him to undergo the same process." As the boat was now really begun, their work could be carried on without interruption. Dick, the next day, took another excursion in search of the coffee berries he had seen, as well as of any other vegetable productions of the island. After searching for some time at the further end of the island, he discovered the pods he had before seen, which were now completely ripe. Examining them carefully, he was convinced that they were coffee berries. He accordingly collected as many as he could put in the sack he had brought, thankful that they would afford a useful and agreeable beverage to his companion. A short time afterwards, he came upon a wilderness of canes, which he had before mistaken for bamboo, and on tasting them, he was convinced that they were sugarcanes, probably the remains of a plantation, long ago deserted. He cut a bundle, hoping that he and Lord Reginald might design some plan for extracting the juice and turning it into sugar. He was about to set off with his burden--a pretty heavy one--when to his astonishment, and no small dismay, he felt the ground shake beneath his feet. This unusual circumstance was followed almost immediately afterwards by a deep hollow sound, and on looking up, he saw, in the direction of the cave dense masses of smoke issuing forth, followed by lurid flames, while several streams of lava began to flow down the hill. As the lava, however, took a course towards the sea, in an opposite direction to where he was standing, he watched for some moments the eruption, instead, as some people might have done, throwing down his load and running away from the neighbourhood. Satisfied, at length, that it was not increasing, he turned his steps homewards. He found Lord Reginald, who had felt the earthquake, and had been watching the volcano in activity, very anxious about him. "I am thankful to see you back, Hargrave," he said. "Though no harm has happened, one thing is certain, that it will be wise in us to try and get our boat finished as soon as possible, so that, should the hill have another blow up, we may make our escape." "I hope that matters will not come to such a pitch as to drive us off the island," answered Dick; "but if you are well enough to-morrow, we will begin work in earnest." "I am well enough to begin it at once," was the answer. "What have you got there?" Dick showed the contents of his sack. "Coffee berries, to a certainty," said Lord Reginald, tasting one of them. "All we have now to do is to roast and grind them. I am capable of doing that, at all events, and now let me taste one of those canes? Sugar, no doubt of it. Why, if that burning mountain doesn't drive us away, we may live on here in luxury for months to come." "I shall be glad enough to remain, and never was so happy in my life," answered Dick, who spoke from his heart. "I am very glad to hear it, Hargrave. I may say the same for myself, and I really think that I shall be sorry when the life we are now leading comes to an end." CHAPTER FIFTEEN. PROGRESS IN BOAT-BUILDING--HOT POKERS--SYSTEM IN WORKING--FIXING ON THE KEEL--DICK AND HIS PIGS--FINISHING THE BOAT--THE ONLY REGRET--PREPARING FOR THE TRIAL TRIP--THE LAUNCH--ONCE MORE AFLOAT--ASPECT OF THE ISLAND-- THE VOLCANO--CLEANING DECKS--A STRANGE SAIL--RUNNING FOR THE BAY--"WHAT'S TO BE DONE?"--THE BOAT RECALLED--A STORM--A FEARFUL NIGHT. The two Crusoes, now no longer rivals, worked vigorously away at their boat. Every day Lord Reginald gained strength, and was able the more effectually to help Dick, who, however, never spared himself. With the young lord's assistance, he sawed off the large pieces at the end intended for the bows, which he afterwards shaped with his axe and plane. From the stern, much less had to be taken off. Here the axe did nearly all the work. Having then planed all round the sides and bows, the log presented the appearance on the upper part of a well-formed canoe. The workmen had now to turn her over, and to commence shaping the lower part. Having stripped off the bark, which he could not before get at, Dick, again using his level, planed it evenly, and then carefully marked out the part to which the keel was to be fixed. With his adze he shaped both sides, using the forms he had previously prepared. In some parts there was very little wood to take off, though he had to cut away considerable at the bows and stern. Lord Reginald found that as yet there was comparatively little for him to do, as, from want of experience, he could not for some time use either the adze or the axe. At length, the whole of the outside of the canoe was shaped, and Dick and his companion surveyed it with no little satisfaction. "We must now turn her on her keel again, and begin digging her out," observed Dick. "It will cost us no little trouble, I suspect. We may begin with the axe, but it won't do to use that as we get on, for fear of making a hole through the side or bottom. We must then employ the gouge, and I have sharpened up all the large ones I found in the carpenter's chest." "I have heard of a mode of digging out canoes by means of hot stones or hot irons. We have irons enough for the purpose, and by lighting a fire near at hand, might keep them constantly hot," said Lord Reginald. "I should be afraid of burning through the wood, or causing it to split, unless we use the irons only in the centre. We might try that, and see how it answers," replied Dick. Several stanchions and other bars of iron, which had been extracted from the wreck, were accordingly fitted with handles, and they soon had half a dozen "hot pokers," as Lord Reginald called them, heating in a fire close to the canoe. Dick, however, was of opinion that they made far more progress with the adze, but as Lord Reginald could not use it in an efficient way, Dick proposed that his companion should work away at one end with the hot pokers, while he plied his adze at the other. He chose the stern, and using the adze vigorously, chopped away the wood under his feet, sending out large chips at every stroke, while Lord Reginald ran backwards and forwards with his hot pokers; but though he made a great deal of smoke, he found that he burnt away only a small quantity of wood with each instrument. Though there was no doubt that he would succeed in the end, he had to confess that Dick's method was the most rapid. "Still," he observed, "every little helps, and I'll go on burning away at my end, while you continue chopping at yours." This plan was agreed to, and they were both well satisfied with the progress made during a single day. It took them, however, not one day, but several, before the canoe was cleanly dug out. The last part of the process was much slower than the first, from the necessity there was to be careful lest they should dig their gouges through the sides. As these became thinner and thinner, Dick would frequently stop and run his brad-awl through to ascertain their thickness more exactly, taking care to stop the hole afterwards. As may be supposed, they constantly kept an eye on the volcano, which occasionally threw up flames and smoke, but gave no indications of preparing for a more serious eruption. Still, the two Crusoes agreed that it would be wise in them to get their craft ready for sea, in case of being compelled to put off from the island. It was a day of rejoicing when they had at length completed the hull, and as they looked all round her they felt satisfied that she was of equal thickness at the sides, except the bow and stern, which were of course thicker. They had now again to turn her over to fix the keel, which was already prepared. While Dick had been engaged in finishing off the inside with his gouge, Lord Reginald had searched all the timber thrown on shore, for bolts and nuts. About a dozen were found, with which the keel was fixed on, and bolted inside in a way which gave it great strength, so that it could not be torn off, even should a rock be struck. Having sheered up the canoe, she now stood on an even keel, and Dick and his companion walked to a little distance to admire their handiwork, and both agreed that she was as perfect as could be. "Yes, and we owe her perfection to your judgment, Hargrave. For by myself, I should never have thought of building such a craft," said Lord Reginald. "She will be more perfect, however, when we get the bulwarks and deck on her, the thwarts fitted, and the masts stepped and the sails set, and we stand away from the island." "I am in no hurry to go," said Dick. "If I had not felt it was my duty to work and get her done, in case an outbreak of the volcano should place your life in danger, I don't think I should have worked so hard." "But yours is of equal value," said Lord Reginald. "Pray don't say that; except my father and mother and my blind sister-- who have probably long since thought me dead--I have no one to care for me, and you have numerous relations and friends; besides which, I hope you will some day have the opportunity of serving our king and country, and becoming one of England's admirals." "Come, come, Hargrave, you are breaking through our agreement, and professing to be of less value than I am. Your friends care for you, as much as mine do for me, and more so probably, if the truth was known, and as to my becoming an admiral, you have as great a chance as I have." "I am sorry to have to differ from you," said Dick, laughing in spite of himself. "However, we will get the craft ready and make a trial trip in her, and then it may be wiser to stay here until we are driven off the island, or some friendly ship comes in sight. Some day or other an English vessel must pass this way, or the _Wolf_ herself may come to look for us." "Very little chance of that, or she would have come long ago," answered Lord Reginald. "However, I agree with you that it will be better to live on here as long as we have plenty of provisions, and trust to be taken off by friends, than have to cruise about in an unknown sea without a chart, with the chance of being picked up by Frenchmen, or of running into an enemy's port." Lord Reginald had now almost completely recovered his strength, and was able to help Dick in a variety of ways. They were both up at daylight every morning, their first visits being to their turtle-pen, and pig-sty as they called the pit where the porker was confined. The first pig caught, Dick had been compelled to kill, from its savage disposition, while the one in the pit had become perfectly tame and grunted with pleasure, whenever he approached with food. Had it not been for his wish to finish the boat, he would at once have built a sty for it, but he waited until the craft was completed. Neptune would lie in the shade, an attentive observer of all their operations, and at times would come and look up in his master's face, as if asking whether he could not be of some assistance. Lord Reginald at last taught him to carry about the tools, and when Dick wanted one, he had only to point to it, and the dog would bring it up to him immediately. It took some time to put on the bulwarks, as ribs had to be fitted to give them sufficient strength. Perseverance conquered all difficulties, and at last the hull was raised two feet all round, somewhat higher at the bows, over which a deck was fitted nearly six feet in length. Over the after part, a deck four feet long was formed, with water-ways six inches wide down the sides. The three masts were quickly made. There were plenty of spars for the purpose, as well as for the yards; three oars, and a pair of paddles, which might be useful to pull the boat round when going about. In the evening they worked away, making the three lugsails, the topsail, and a small fore-staysail. On the top of the gunwale, four spars were fixed to serve as outriggers, supporting at either end two long flat boards, which they hoped would effectually prevent their boat from capsizing. An English flag had been washed ashore, which, although somewhat torn, after its dimensions had been reduced, would serve very well for the purpose required. Dick had a surprise for Lord Reginald. He had been anxious about the possibility of their boat leaking, through cracks which might open as the wood dried. Among the stores he had collected was a cask of pitch, which he now rolled out. He had to exert his ingenuity in forming a tar brush for putting it on. This he manufactured out of cocoanut fibre. An iron kettle, which had been too large for ordinary use, served for heating it. They found that they had more than sufficient to pay over the whole outside, as well as the inner part of the bows and stern and the parts where the bolts fixing on the keel came through. The decks, which were covered over with canvas, were also thickly pitched so as to prevent any leaks. The craft was now completed. Having set all their sails to see how she looked, the flag was hoisted with three cheers, and they were now ready for whatever might occur. The same rollers which had served to bring the log to the neighbourhood of the hut, now enabled them by dint of hard labour and the due application of handspikes, to move their craft down to the beach just above high water. It was close to the spot where Dick had drawn the carpenter's chest on shore, and the same tackle he had then rigged would serve to haul her up again after they had made their experimental trip. This they resolved to do the next morning. Dick proposed that they should lay down moorings, where she could remain afloat. The bay was sheltered except from a southerly wind, and should it come on to blow from that quarter they must either run round to the other side of the island or haul her up again. It was nearly dark by the time they had got their craft down to the beach, and with hearts grateful to Heaven that they had thus far been able to carry out their design, they returned to their hut. As may be supposed, they spent their evening in discussing their arrangements. They had still no small amount of work to accomplish, provisions to prepare for their voyage, and the means of carrying water, which was not the least of the difficulties they had to overcome. Neither, however, was anxious to leave the island. Dick was perfectly happy in the life he was leading, and dreaded, should he ever go on board a man-of-war again, notwithstanding the hints thrown out by Lord Reginald, that he should be separated from one for whom he had acquired so deep an affection, and should be exposed to the same rough treatment he had before had to endure. Lord Reginald was unwilling, in so frail a bark, to run the risk of navigating those dangerous seas without a chart for his guidance, and was fully impressed with the belief that ere long some British man-of-war would be sent to search for them, or that they might get on board some English merchantman. Notwithstanding this, he was prepared, should it become necessary, to undertake the voyage, and either to steer to the south of Java, or to run through one of the numerous passages between the islands to the east of that island, and so to reach Batavia. His belief was that the _Marie_ had been wrecked on an island to the south of Floris or Sumbawa, at no great distance probably from Timor. So interested had they been in discussing these subjects, that it was later than usual before they turned in. Dick, who from having been the chief architect, was far more anxious than his companion to try their new craft, was the first to awake. Quickly dressing, he ran down to the beach to have a look at the craft, and see that she was all right. In a short time the tide would be high, and as the beach was steep, she might, resting on the rollers, be quickly launched, having the tackle ready to check her if necessary. The wind was along shore, so that they might at once make sail, and either stand out to sea or run round the coast, and get a better view of it than they had hitherto done. The weather, too, was as fine as it had been for some time past. As far as Dick could judge, there was every prospect of its continuing favourable. He hurried back to light a fire, and prepare breakfast. Neptune, who had followed him, when he saw the cooking operations had made some progress, gave several loud barks, which awoke Lord Reginald. "You should have called me, Hargrave!" he said. "I should have liked to have assisted in making preparations for our trip." "As we may be kept out some hours, I was anxious that you should have as long a sleep as possible," answered Dick. "Thank you; but I am as strong as ever now, and feel ready for any amount of fatigue," said the young lord. "By-the-by, as you talk of the possibility of our being out several hours, it will be prudent to take some provender on board. Even if we are so much employed as not to care for eating, Nep, at all events, will have nothing to do, and will be glad of some food." "I thought of that," answered Dick, "and I have filled half a dozen cocoanut shells with water, and proposed taking some smoked venison and pork, with some flour cakes and a basketful of fruit. If you think we may require more provisions, we may tumble one of the turtles into the bottom of the boat; it will serve as ballast, and not be the worse for the trip." "Why, we shall have sufficient provisions to last until we reach Batavia," said Lord Reginald, laughing. "However, it's as well to be prepared. By-the-by, you were speaking of ballast, the craft will require more than the turtle, and our provisions, even for a short trip." "I thought of that, too," said Dick, "and I have made a number of canvas bags, which we can fill with sand and take on board the boat after she is afloat." As soon as they had finished a hearty breakfast, carrying down their stores, they put them on board, and at once set to work to launch the boat. It was an anxious time, as it is to every ship-builder when he sees a vessel on a new construction, about to float on the element which is to be her future home. The tackle was hooked on, and the end secured on board. Several pieces of rock, of a size which they could lift on board, had been got ready, afterwards to be bound together, so as to form moorings of a sufficient weight to hold the boat. These had been left down on the beach close to the water, so that it would not take long to lift them in. Lord Reginald went on board to ease off the tackle, while Dick, with a handspike, gave the necessary impetus to the craft. She glided down the beach, gaining speed as she advanced, until with a splash her bows entered the water. Dick gave a few more heaves to encourage her, and in another minute she was almost afloat. He shoved at her stern with all his might. Then leaping on board he got out an oar and urged her on until she was in deep water. He had fastened a rope to a stone, which on being thrown overboard kept her head seaward, when she was hauled back again sufficiently near the beach to enable them to lift their ballast-bags and mooring-stones on board. The former having been properly stowed, the latter, according to their arrangement, were bound tightly together, and the tackle being cast off, they paddled her into the bay, far enough from the shore to enable her to ride in safety. The moorings were then let drop, and the tackle so arranged that the boat could be hauled towards the beach without the necessity of their first going on board. With justifiable pride they surveyed their handiwork. "Now let's get under way!" cried Lord Reginald. "She floats well on the water, and is higher out of it than I expected." As the wind was light, all the canvas was hoisted. The sails filled, and being sheeted home, the little craft stood away from the land. "She behaves beautifully! You ought to have been a ship-builder, and you would soon have become famous. Indeed, I am sure that you would succeed in whatever you undertook," exclaimed Lord Reginald. "You flatter me too much," answered Dick. "I picked up a knowledge of carpentering when I was a boy, and necessity is said to be the mother of invention, so, soon after we were wrecked, I began to consider how a craft could be built. I have had her planned out in my head for many a day. In what direction shall we sail?" "We will beat up to the westward, as the island extends furthest in that direction," answered Lord Reginald. "We will then run round it, and by making a long tack out to sea, we shall weather the eastern point and stand back again into this bay. Should the wind not drop, we shall do it in four or five hours, though of course it is impossible to say how long we shall be detained. However, we will trust to having a good breeze, and at all events getting back before night. If we are kept out, the worst that can happen will be to lose our sleep. We must keep a vigilant watch, and on no account lose sight of the island." To this Dick, of course, agreed; indeed, he would not have dreamed, now that he was once afloat, of disputing any suggestion of one whom he looked upon as his commanding officer. "There is one thing you have forgotten, Hargrave." "What is it, my lord?" asked Dick. "You forget our compact, Hargrave. It must last until I dissolve it, and that will not be while you and I are together," answered Lord Reginald. "However, as I was going to observe, we have forgotten to give this craft a name. She deserves a pretty one. Have you thought about the matter?" "No," replied Dick. "Well, then, I confess that I have; but I want you to name her," said Lord Reginald. "If I may be pardoned for proposing such a name, I should say call her the _Lady Julia_," answered Dick, after a few moments' consideration. "Lady Julia, I have no doubt, would be flattered," said Lord Reginald, with perfect gravity, "and I should be very happy to call our craft after her; but I think, as you are the architect, and not only the architect but chief constructor, that she should be called after your sister. In my opinion the _Janet_ is a very pretty name." "I would rather that you settled the point," answered Dick, "and if you think fit to call her the _Janet_, I shall be perfectly pleased." "The _Janet_ she shall be, then," answered Lord Reginald; and from thenceforth their craft was called the _Janet_ by the two Crusoes. After standing on for some distance, Lord Reginald proposed that they should go about. This required no little skill and activity. It was necessary to haul down a foresail and mainsail. This they did, Dick leaping from one to the other, and shifting the yards over, ready to hoist again, the staysail bringing her round, but as, from her length, she was a long time about it, Dick found it necessary to get out one of the paddles, a few strokes with which were of great service. Lord Reginald managed the mizzen, while Dick rehoisted the foresail and mainsail. The rudder, it should have been said, was fitted with long yoke-lines, which, being led well forward, made the operation of steering more easy than it would otherwise have been. "I suspect that in a heavy sea we shall find that the _Janet_ doesn't come about as well as we should wish," observed Lord Reginald. "We shall improve by practice," said Dick, "and you forget that in a heavy sea we shall not be carrying our mainsail, and may be even without the foresail, so that we shall only have the fore-staysail and mizzen to manage, and we may expect to be favoured with calm weather. She goes to windward, at all events." Still, Lord Reginald, like many other naval officers, was not much accustomed to sailing boats, and was less satisfied with the sea qualities of their craft than he could have wished. Dick's trips on board the _Nancy_ had taught him how a lugger should be managed, but she had, he confessed, a more numerous crew than that of the _Janet_. However, he hoped by activity to make up for that deficiency. As the _Janet_ glided rapidly over the smooth surface of the ocean, he naturally felt proud of her. On hearing the eastern end they came in view of the side of the volcano sloping up almost from the water. Here and there, just above the beach, a few scathed trees were seen, but the rest of it was covered with lava which had rolled down from the summit, filling up all the hollows, and extending some distance, layer above layer, into the water. It was satisfactory to see that this was the direction which the lava had hitherto taken, but they also perceived that it might at any time rush down the opposite side of the hill, and destroy the animals and rich vegetation existing in the two remaining fertile valleys. Dick was employed in looking out ahead for any reefs or other dangers which might exist off the island, when Lord Reginald exclaimed-- "Look there, Hargrave! Look there! You see the volcano is in an angry mood." As he spoke, a low dull sound was heard coming from the shore, and from the top of the volcano rose a dense black mass, which extended itself like an umbrella. Directly afterwards down came a shower of ashes, covering every part of the boat, while the coast itself was completely shut out from view, except where a lurid glare could be seen on the summit of the hill, and from the streams of lava descending the sides. Masses of rock and other dense substances were also thrown up, and their splashes could be heard as they fell into the water, though they themselves were invisible. Lord Reginald steered to the northward, in order that they might as soon as possible get away from the dangerous neighbourhood, but it was some time before they were free of the ashes and once more had the bright sun shining down upon them. They looked anxiously towards the island, and were thankful to observe that a large portion to the eastward was bright and fair, showing that it had not suffered materially from the eruption. It might, however, only be the commencement of a still more serious outbreak, and they were thankful that they had their vessel ready, in case it should become necessary to escape for their lives. As they opened up the eastern side of the hill, they saw the trees which had hitherto escaped, burning furiously, surrounded by the hot lava. They had too much reason to fear that the conflagration might extend still further, and destroy the whole of the remaining vegetation, though it was possible that the stream would stop its progress, and that the part of the island on which they had been living might be spared. Dick now set to work to get rid of the ashes which covered the boat. It was no easy task. He had only a piece of board to serve as a shovel, and a handful of oakum. He cleared the decks and water-ways and thwarts, but he found it impossible to get them out of the bottom of the boat. "Never mind," said Lord Reginald, "it will serve instead of a coat of paint." "She will look very like a coal barge," answered Dick, who was vain of the hitherto clean appearance of their craft. The wind continued very light, and it was some time before they reached the eastern end of the island, which they calculated was at the utmost ten miles long and five or six broad. They looked out narrowly for any small harbour into which they might run, should the wind come from the southward, and blow into their bay. With the risk of another eruption of the volcano, it was important to be able to start at a moment's notice. Should the wind blow into the bay, it might be impossible to launch the _Janet_. At the very eastern end they came off an opening with a reef running out to a considerable distance on the southern side. It had the appearance of just the sort of harbour they required, but as Dick had not visited it, he could not tell whether there would be space sufficient for the _Janet_ to swing clear of the rocks. They had been examining it narrowly, and Lord Reginald proposed that they should row in the boat, to ascertain its capabilities, when Dick turning round for an instant to the south-east, exclaimed-- "A sail, a sail!" Lord Reginald sprang to his feet, and looking in the same direction, observed, "She's a large ship, too, and standing this way. What if she should prove to be the _Wolf_?" Dick made no answer. He almost hoped that she would not prove to be their ship. The time he had enjoyed so much would come to an end, and he must henceforth associate with those in whose society he could no longer take pleasure. Lord Reginald, not for a moment doubting that Dick was as pleased as he was, altered the _Janet's_ course in the direction of the stranger. They had brought a telescope, a remarkably good one for its size. He turned it towards the approaching ship. "From the cut of her sails, I doubt whether she's the _Wolf_, after all," observed Lord Reginald, "even if she's English," he added. "No, that she's not. She's hoisted her colours. If my eyes don't deceive me, that's the French flag. Here, Hargrave, see what you can make out." Dick took a steady look. "That's the French flag, no doubt about the matter," he answered; "if you look again you will be certain of the fact." "I was nearly certain of it before," answered Lord Reginald, "and as I have no fancy to be taken on board a Frenchman, we will haul our wind, and get back to our bay. We should fetch it with one tack, and by unstepping our masts very probably the boat will not be seen, or our hut either, unless the Frenchmen narrowly examine the island." "With all my heart," said Dick, greatly relieved, as he hoped to get into the bay before the Frenchmen had discovered the _Janet_. She, it will be remembered, was low down in the water, so that the look-out aloft on board the stranger might not have seen her from the distance they were off. The wind freshened, and the little craft made good way. "The sooner we are on shore the better. I don't like the look of the weather to the westward," observed Lord Reginald. The sky in that direction had a lurid appearance, betokening a strong wind, produced possibly by the eruption. Dick was of the same opinion, and felt more than ever anxious to get on shore. "We shall fetch into the bay now," observed Lord Reginald. The little craft behaved admirably, and by careful management was put about without the aid of an oar. She now hauled up for the bay. "We shall fetch the moorings, if the wind holds as it now does; but we must lower the mainsail if it increases much," said Lord Reginald. Dick kept the halliards in his hands. For some time she stood up to her canvas, when a strong blast striking her, she heeled over until her lee outrigger was under water. "Lower away!" cried Lord Reginald, and in an instant the mainsail was taken off her. "We shall probably have to take in the foresail, too," he observed. Dick stood by, ready to lower it. Before many minutes were over it had also to be taken in, and the fore-staysail and mizzen were as much canvas as she could carry. The ship had by this time come almost off the island; the whole hull down to the water could be seen. Lord Reginald had, however, too much to do in attending to the _Janet_, to look after her; he had now to pick up his moorings. Dick had manufactured a strong boat-hook, and was standing at the bows, ready to get hold of the buoy. "There it is, sir," he exclaimed; "if you luff up now, we shall get hold of it." Lord Reginald put down the helm, and Dick at the same moment hauling down the fore-staysail, and the lugger shooting up, he got hold of the buoy, and soon had the cable secured. The question was now, whether they should haul the boat up on the beach or leave her afloat. She was less likely to be seen hauled up, and a few branches would completely conceal her. They decided to haul her up, and by bringing the cable aft, with a warp attached to it, her bows approached sufficiently near to enable Dick to leap out and get hold of the tackle. This being secured to her bows, the stern warp was slackened off, and rollers being placed under her keel, both exerting all their strength, they hauled her up the beach. The masts were unstepped, and a few boughs, which were quickly cut, were stuck into the sand on either side of her, to hide her from view. Lord Reginald had now time more narrowly to watch the proceedings of the ship. Having come directly off the bay she hove to. "She has lowered a boat," he exclaimed. "The Frenchmen must have seen the lugger after all, and are coming in to ascertain what has become of her. We must decide how to act. If we hide our selves, they may in wantonness destroy our hut and our boat. What do you propose we should do, Hargrave?" "I should rather hear what you think best. I'm sure I shall be ready to agree with you," answered Dick. "No, no; I would rather hear what you think best," said Lord Reginald. "Then I would stay where we are, and explain that we have been shipwrecked, and would prefer remaining on the island to leaving it." "To tell you the truth, I am afraid, Hargrave, that they'll not give us the choice; but still, I agree with you that is the best plan to try them. They may possibly allow us to remain, and not injure our property; but I own I very much fear that they will carry us off, for the sake of exchanging us for any of their countrymen who may have fallen into the hands of the English." During this conversation they remained concealed in the bushes, watching the progress of the boat. The anticipation of being detained on board a French ship of war, and afterwards, perhaps, shut up in prison, was not a pleasant thought. That such would be their fate, neither Dick nor Lord Reginald had any doubt. They saw that the boat was a large one, and the gleam of musket barrels showed that she carried armed men. All this time the wind had been increasing, and the weather looked worse and worse. Presently a flash issued from the side of the ship, and a loud report reached their ears. "That's a signal for the recall of the boat," observed Lord Reginald. The officer in command, now that he was so close in, appeared unwilling to obey it, but another gun was fired to show that the captain was in earnest in the matter, and the boat being put round, the crew, bending their backs to the oars, pulled away towards their ship. They had no time to lose, for the threatened gale was fast approaching. A third gun was fired to hasten them; the wind, however, came from the north-west, which was in their favour, while Lord Reginald and Dick were thankful that there was little risk of the _Janet's_ suffering. They, however, as a precautionary measure, by rigging an additional tackle, got her higher up the beach. They also secured her by stays at either side, fixed to pegs run deeply into the sand, for they well knew the effects of a hurricane in those seas. They had good reason to be thankful that they had got on shore before it came on. Dick looked towards the volcano. The eruption had, however, subsided, and the rain, which now came down in torrents, had apparently extinguished the fire which they had so much dreaded. What had become of the ship they could not tell, as she had completely disappeared in the watery veil which intervened between her and the land. They could only hope that the boat had got alongside, and that her crew had been taken on board. Dick had built his hut so strongly that it withstood the furious blast raging round, which shook it every now and then, threatening to tear it up from the foundation, while the roof creaked and clattered as if about to be carried off. The night was a more fearful one than any they had passed since that of their shipwreck; but how different were their feelings! The two inhabitants were then at deadly enmity; now they were bound together by the nearest ties of friendship, and each was anxious to serve the other. The thunder roared, the lightning flashed, and the rain continued to come down in liquid sheets. "We have reason to be thankful for this," said Lord Reginald, "for had not the rain come on, the whole island might possibly, by this time, have been covered with flame, and we should not have had a spot on which to rest our feet with safety." Their chief anxiety was about their boat. Though the ocean might not reach her, she might be blown away, or the tree to which she was secured might be torn up by its roots, and crush her; if so, should another eruption of the volcano occur, their condition would be truly dreadful. CHAPTER SIXTEEN. CONTINUATION OF THE GALE--A SHIPWRECK--TO THE RESCUE--DICK SAVES LORD REGINALD'S LIFE--NEARLY DROWNED--IN THE CAVE--INCREASED NUMBERS--CAUSE FOR ALARM--THE RETURN TO THE HUT--THINGS THROWN ON SHORE--PREPARATIONS FOR QUITTING THE ISLAND--INCREASED STORES NECESSARY--COMMOTION OF THE ISLAND--A HASTY EMBARKATION--VOYAGE OF THE JANET--THE PIRATE FLEET--A CHASE--ALONGSIDE THE WOLF--GOING ON BOARD--DICK MADE AN OFFICER--MR BITTS GIVES GOOD ADVICE--THE RETURN TO ENGLAND--AN UNLOOKED-FOR MEETING AT ELVERSTON HALL--HOME--BEN RUDALL'S WIFE--CONCLUSION. The gale raged through the livelong night. The roaring of the breakers on the shore, the howling of the wind amidst the rocks and trees, kept the two Crusoes awake for many hours. They heartily hoped that the wind might not change and drive the ship they had seen in the evening on the island, to share the fate of the _Marie_. Sleep at last overtook them. They were awakened at length by a tremendous crash. They both leapt out of bed, and hurried on their clothes. The hut, shaken violently by the force of the wind, seemed every moment as if about to be carried away. It was with difficulty that they could force open the door to ascertain what had occurred. It was already broad daylight. Several tall trees near them had fallen. They looked anxiously in the direction of the boat. The tree to which she was secured stood firm, and the additional ropes, which they had wisely used, had kept her in her position. The wind had shifted, and the sea was rolling into the bay, and dashing up almost close to her stern. Their next glance was at the volcano--that was still in a state of eruption, sending up smoke and flame, but if any ashes or stones were cast forth they were forced by the wind to the other side of the island. The young men earnestly prayed that they might not be sent in the direction of the hut, for while the storm raged their boat would be useless, as they could not venture off in her. Their next look was seaward in search of the ship. She was nowhere visible; indeed, the thick masses of spray thrown up high into the air shrouded all objects at a distance. "Can she have gone on shore at the other end of the island?" exclaimed Lord Reginald. "If so we may still be in time to save some of her people." Dick agreed with him, though fearing that, should the ship have struck on the rocky coast, all hands must have perished. "If we save any of them, they may be glad of food," said Lord Reginald, and putting up such provisions as they had cooked, they hurried off, each armed with a long stick, followed by Neptune, who, although he seemed to have an instinctive dread of approaching the burning mountain, was yet willing to follow his master. Instead, however, of bounding on before, as was his usual custom, he kept close at Lord Reginald's heels. They took the most direct route along the broad valley, intending then to turn to the left down the narrow valley which led to the bay near which the _Marie_ had been lost. For some time they were protected by the high ground on the southern side of the broad valley, but on opening the smaller one they met the full force of the gale, and it was with difficulty that they could make progress against it. The tall trees twisted and bent, and quantities of nuts came tumbling down, which they often had difficulty in avoiding. To the right was the burning mountain, towards which they cast many an anxious glance, for at any moment it might send forth a shower of stones and ashes, which might overwhelm them. As they reached the sea-shore, near the cave, they saw that their worst anticipations had been fulfilled. At the further end of the reef lay the wreck of a fine ship. The larger portion had been torn away by the fury of the seas. The masts, bowsprit, and upper works had all gone. Not a human being could be discovered on board, while the foam-covered masses of water which raged around her must have carried off any who might have attempted to reach the shore. The waves, surging through the bay, rolled high up on the beach, rendering it dangerous even to approach them. Masses of timber and plank, of casks and cases, everywhere covered the space between the wreck and the beach. "There's not a living man to be seen. I fear all must have perished!" exclaimed Lord Reginald. "I am afraid that you are right," answered Dick. "No, no. I see two clinging to a spar in the middle of the bay. One, at all events, is alive. He must have caught sight of us, for he waved his hand. If the spar is driven in here we may save him." Together they hastened down to the edge of the water. Lord Reginald, in his eagerness, dashed forward, when a sea, rolling in, took him off his legs. In another instant he would have been carried away, had not Dick, at the risk of his own life, dashed forward and grasped him, struggling back with the greatest difficulty. Scarcely had they regained their feet, when the spar came so close that Neptune, making a spring, caught a rope which was hanging to it, and dragged it up towards them. Lord Reginald seized it and held on, while Dick prevented the spar from being rolled over on the two men clinging to it, for their strength was almost too far gone to enable them to help themselves. Dick, getting out his knife, first liberated one of the men, and assisted him up the beach out of the reach of the water. He then hurried down to render the same service to the other. "Thank you, my friends!" said the man first rescued. "You have saved my life when I had well-nigh given up all hope." The other was too far gone to utter a word. "What! are you an Englishman?" inquired Lord Reginald, on hearing the first speak. "Yes, but my companion is a Frenchman, and yonder wreck is that of a French ship, on board which I was a prisoner." "Whether French or English, this poor fellow wants looking after," observed Lord Reginald. "Come, lend a hand, Hargrave, and we will carry him into the cave; it is the most sheltered spot hereabouts. Can you walk, my friend?" he asked of the Englishman. "I'll try, sir," was the answer. While Lord Reginald and Dick carried up the Frenchman to the cave, the other man crawled, rather than walked after them, unwilling longer than possible to remain exposed to the force of the fierce wind. On reaching the cave they found a pile of sticks which Lord Reginald had formerly collected. Dick having a flint and steel with him, they soon made up a blazing fire. Their first care was then to strip the Frenchman and chafe his limbs and chest. Under such treatment he soon revived. Though both the shipwrecked men were severely bruised, none of their limbs were broken. The Englishman, whose appearance was that of a mate of a merchantman, said that his name was Robson, that he had been captured three weeks before by the French ship--a large privateer--and that his companion was one of her crew. He had been somewhat roughly dealt with on board, but that the man saved with him was the only one who had treated him kindly. As neither had eaten anything since the previous day, they were very thankful for the provisions their rescuers had brought, and leaving the two men to finish their meal and recover their strength, Lord Reginald and Dick again set out to search for any other persons who might be thrown on shore. On leaving the cave they found that the gale had already begun to abate. They thus made their way with greater ease than they had expected along the beach, which was strewn with pieces of wreck. They met with several dead bodies, but not a single living being could they discover, either on shore or floating on the pieces of limber still tossing about. They were returning along the beach to the cave, when they saw the two men they had left there running towards them, their countenances, as they approached, exhibiting the greatest alarm. "There's something dreadful going to occur, sir," exclaimed Robson. "We were just about to lie down, when we heard the most fearful rumbling noise, and the rocks about us trembled as if they would come down on our heads. Let us get away from this place as fast as we can, or we shall have been only saved from drowning to suffer a worse death." The dashing of the seas on the beach had prevented Lord Reginald and Dick from feeling the commotion which had so frightened the strangers, but Neptune showed that he was as anxious as they were to escape. "You are right, my friend," said Lord Reginald, looking up at the mountain. "We have a disagreeable neighbour up there, and it will be wise to get as far away from him as we can. Whatever happens, we may hope to be safe at the other end of the island." As no time was to be lost, they returned along the valley by the way they had come, glancing back every now and then to ascertain the state of the volcano. It was still throwing up volumes of smoke and flame, but no stones or ashes fell where they were. At any moment, however, should the wind change, they might be carried in their direction. The two strangers were much alarmed, and had their strength been greater would have hurried on faster. Lord Reginald kindly took Robson's arm to help him along, while Dick supported the Frenchman. Robson was much relieved on hearing that his preservers had a boat to carry them away from the island. "I only hope, sir, that the mountain won't get worse until the weather moderates, and we are able to put to sea," he observed. "We are pretty well accustomed to it now," said Lord Reginald, "and I hope that we shall run into no real danger. We shall be glad, I own, to get off, if we can find our way to Batavia or any other place in the hands of the British." "I have been cruising in these seas for some years, and though the Frenchmen didn't let us know whereabouts we were, if I could once get sight of Bali or Lombok, or for that matter any of the islands to the eastward of Java, I should soon find my way," answered Robson. "One thing is certain, that we must steer to the northward to get into the Java sea, and as we have a compass we shall have no difficulty in doing that," said Lord Reginald. "Then, sir, I hope you'll put off without delay. I don't like the looks of that mountain blazing away there," exclaimed Robson, casting an alarmed glance over his shoulder. "We will not stay longer than is necessary," said Lord Reginald. "We are thankful that we did not sail yesterday, or our craft would have been lost to a certainty." The mate, before entering the hut, was anxious to see the boat, and Lord Reginald and Dick, with some little pride, led the strangers up to her. The mate opened his eyes. "You are right, sir, in being thankful that you were not at sea last night," he observed. "She may do very well in smooth water, but in a sea way she would prove a curious craft to manage." Dick felt somewhat indignant at this remark, though Lord Reginald only laughed. "I agree with you, my friend; but we have to choose between being smothered or burned by the volcano, or making a voyage in her, and I prefer the latter alternative." On entering the hut, the mate, having complimented Dick on its comfortable appearance, assured him that he considered the boat a wonderful structure, and such as he himself would never have thought of building. Pierre Didot, the Frenchman, was equally complimentary. The two shipwrecked men were thankful to lie down and go to sleep, while Lord Reginald and Dick went along the shore to try and pick up anything of value which might be cast on the beach. They were rewarded by discovering another cask of flour and an officer's chest, which among other things contained a chart of those seas. Had they known their true position, this would have been of great value, but as they were unable to ascertain this, the chart would be of little service, till they reached some land which the mate might recognise. They possessed, it is true, some nautical instruments, but as they had no chronometer and no almanac, Lord Reginald had been unable to work out his observations correctly, though he had instructed Dick in their use. The chest also contained a flask of gunpowder and a pistol. Some way further along the beach they picked up three muskets, which had been jammed into the rack in which they had been fixed, and the whole together had been washed ashore. "They are too much injured to be of use, I fear," observed Lord Reginald. "Perhaps we can manage to put them straight; at all events we will try," answered Dick. Several other articles, however, were found, two of them being empty water-casks, which were likely to be of more use than anything else. They returned to the hut, well laden with their treasures. They found the two new-comers sitting up, having just awakened, much refreshed by their sleep. As soon as Pierre heard of the muskets, he said that he had belonged to the armourer's crew, and was certain that he could repair them. Dick having prepared dinner, as soon as it was discussed the whole party set off to bring in the stores. "I say, that mate of yours works like a good one," observed Robson to Dick. "If I ever get the command of a craft, I should like to have you and him with me." "Thank you," said Dick, laughing. "I'll tell him what you say; I am sure that he'll be pleased to hear it." As they had a long way to go, it was late before they had brought in all the articles collected. There were more than sufficient completely to fill Dick's store. The next morning, Pierre set to work on the firearms, and was busily employed the whole day, singing merrily while at work, as if he had entirely forgotten the loss of his companions. The rest of the party were engaged in filling the water-casks, as well as a large number of cocoanut shells. They also collected a quantity of fresh nuts, and all the fruit and vegetables likely to keep during the voyage. Robson, however, was in no hurry to put off; the sea, indeed, continued too heavy to enable them to launch the boat. He examined her over and over again, evidently unwilling, except compelled to do so, to make a voyage in her. He suggested strengthening the outriggers, by carrying ropes from the two ends under her bottom. He also advised that she should be covered in more completely with canvas, which being laced down the centre, spaces only being left here and there for her crew, would prevent her filling should a sea break on board. The first use Lord Reginald made of one of the muskets, when completed, was to kill four deer and a couple of hogs. These Dick dried and salted, that they might have sufficient provisions for their increased numbers. He formed also two additional oars, that, should they meet with calms, they might be able to pull, or enter an unknown harbour, with less risk of running on a rock or reef. Many months had passed away. To Dick they had been the happiest in his life. Though ready enough to trust the _Janet_, he was in no hurry to leave the island. Lord Reginald, perhaps, was the most anxious to leave; still he did not shut his eyes to the danger of a voyage in so frail a craft. Everything had been got ready for a start, when one morning the party in the hut were awakened by a more violent upheaving of the earth beneath them than they had yet experienced. On rushing out of doors, they saw the whole island moved in a fearful manner, tall trees waving to and fro, and masses of rock falling into the valleys below. "To the boat, to the boat!" cried Lord Reginald. "My friends, there is not a moment to be lost. Should the volcano not burst forth, the sea may recede and leave our craft far inland. The first thing we have to do is to get her afloat." They hurried to the boat, and the tackles being got ready and the rollers placed under her keel, they commenced launching her. With four hands this was a more easy operation than when undertaken only by two. Scarcely had the after part reached the water than the fearful rumbling noises increased, and the volcano begun to spout forth its contents, in a far more terrific manner than had hitherto been witnessed, while the atmosphere grew lurid with flame. Streams of lava were also seen descending on every side of the hill. The crew of the _Janet_ worked with redoubled vigour, and by hauling on the rope attached to the moorings, she was quickly got afloat. While her stern still touched the beach, all hands were engaged in lifting on board the cargo, which, owing to Lord Reginald's forethought, had previously been arranged, water, fuel, and provisions, and besides other stores, several of the most useful of the carpenter's tools. Pierre had ingeniously contrived a cooking stove, which was placed just abaft the foremast. As the boat was loaded, she was hauled off from the beach. All the party were on board, with the exception of Lord Reginald, who, followed by Neptune, ran back to the hut, to ascertain that nothing of consequence was left behind. He discovered that the compass had been forgotten. He was just taking it up, and was looking round to see if there was anything else, when Nep, giving a peculiar bark, pulled his trousers, and he heard Dick's voice frantically calling upon him to return. He hurried out, and made towards the boat. As he did so, he saw that the volcano was in a state of violent eruption. He did not stop to take a second look, but climbing up over the quarter, and hauling up Neptune after him, he shouted to Dick to haul off. The _Janet_ was quickly run out to her moorings. The wind was from the westward. The warp being hauled in, sail was made, and Robson and Pierre, getting out the oars, pulled with all their might. They had good cause for doing so. A vast umbrella-shaped cloud hung over the mountain, extending on every side, and already ashes had begun to fall into the water close astern, while as they got further off, they could see huge stones, sufficient to have sunk the boat, falling into the bay where they had lately floated. The breeze freshened; still that threatening cloud grew larger and larger, the sun, which had risen, appearing like a huge globe of fire through it. They would have been thankful for a gale of wind to carry them to a safe distance. Lord Reginald got out another oar aft, and Dick one forward. The young lord considered that it would be safer to keep the boat's head to the eastward, and then haul up to the northward, the course they intended to steer. As they watched the island through the dense cloud by which it was surrounded, it appeared one mass of flame; while the volcano itself, with the hills beneath it, appeared melting away. "It's only to be hoped that they may sink to the bottom, and not break up any more stout ships!" cried Robson. "However, as I have gained my liberty, I have no cause to complain." The wind freshened, and the _Janet_ under all sail making good way, by nightfall the burning island appeared like a bonfire, far over the larboard quarter. As it was necessary to keep a bright look-out, Lord Reginald and Pierre took one watch, Robson and Dick the other. "Well, I never did think she would go along in this style," observed Robson, looking over the side, and noting the way the _Janet_ moved through the water. Among the articles picked up had been a half-minute glass, and a long line having been fitted, her speed could be ascertained. With the wind on her quarter she was found to be making seven knots an hour, which was considered by all to be wonderfully good going. For two days the _Janet_ stood on without any land appearing in sight. At length, on the evening of the third day, an indistinct outline was discovered right ahead. A calm came on, and all night she lay without advancing on her course. Although Dick and the other men offered to get out the oars, Lord Reginald would not permit them to exert themselves, knowing that they might require their strength for an emergency. As the sun rose a breeze sprang up, and again they were skimming along over the smooth sea, at the rate of five knots an hour. At length, the land became more and more distinct. It was of considerable height, but the mate acknowledged that he could not tell what it was. At last he declared it to be the island of Sumbawa, and by steering to the west an opening was discovered. As no one knew the character of the inhabitants, it was agreed that it would be wiser not to land, and the little craft keeping in mid-channel, was not likely to be observed from either shore. For some hours they were becalmed, and it was not until nearly daylight that they approached the entrance of the straits. Running on all day with a fair breeze, before nightfall they had entered the Java sea. Here, however, the chart showed islands innumerable, and dangers of all sorts. During the night, to avoid the risk of running on them, the _Janet_ was kept under easy sail. For several days they sailed on, steering to the north-west, Lord Reginald determining not to touch at any place until Batavia was reached, unless compelled to do so from want of water or fresh provisions. They were in the longitude of Madura, a large island lying off the north coast of Java, when a numerous fleet of small vessels was seen in the north-east, standing towards them. Robson having taken a look at the strangers through his glass, cried out that they were piratical craft, which infested Borneo and the neighbouring coasts, and were wont to show no mercy to any falling into their hands. "We must try and keep ahead of them, then," answered Lord Reginald, "and if they come up with us, fight to the last. With these three muskets and a pistol, we can do a little, and must make the best use we can of our boat-hook and oars." "The best thing we can do with our oars is to keep ahead of them," answered the mate. "They are big craft, and would run this lugger down without ceremony." "And we will keep ahead of them," was the answer. "We will get out the oars, and try and make the _Janet_ walk along." In spite, however, of the strenuous efforts made by the _Janet's_ crew, it was too evident that the pirates, if such they were, were overhauling her, having a stronger breeze than she had got to send them through the water. A small island appeared on the starboard bow. The mate suggested that by landing there, they might escape into the interior, and save their lives. "Or be murdered by its inhabitants," said Lord Reginald, laughing. "We will trust to our own little craft. We shall get the breeze before long, and we will then see if we cannot distance our pursuers." There appeared, however, too much probability that his hopes would prove vain. The pirate fleet, of thirty vessels or more, each manned by some fifty or sixty cut-throats, was approaching nearer and nearer. Lord Reginald having had the muskets handed to him, loaded them carefully, and placed them by his side. "We will keep pulling to the last, and when they come within musket-shot, I'll pick off some of the fellows in the leading vessel. That will make them fancy we are better armed than we are, and they may not think it worth while to attempt capturing us." They were at this time passing to the southward of the island before mentioned. The breeze freshened, and the _Janet_ made better way than she had hitherto been doing. However, the pirates had already got almost within musket-shot, but Lord Reginald was unwilling to throw a charge away. At length, turning round and seeing that the leading pirate was within range, he fired. He quickly took up the next musket, and as he did so, he called to Dick to come aft and reload them. By the time the third musket was fired, Dick had loaded the first. A dozen shots had been fired, though it was difficult to ascertain the effect produced. By this time the _Janet_ had opened out the west end of the island, when Dick, looking up, just as he was handing a musket to Lord Reginald, exclaimed-- "A sail, a sail! and a man-of-war, too, standing down towards us, under every stitch of canvas she can carry." "She'll be up to us in twenty minutes more, and all we need do is to keep ahead of our pursuers," answered Lord Reginald, taking a glance at her, before firing the musket he had received from Dick. That glance, however, was sufficient to convince him that she was the _Wolf_. He was again about to fire, when the pirate craft were seen in a state of confusion, putting about. As fast as they could, lowering their sails and getting out their oars, they pulled away for their lives in the wind's eye. They had an advantage by keeping closer in shore than the frigate could venture; besides which, the wind was light, and thus gave them a better chance of escape. They had, however, been seen from the frigate, which stood on after them, and at first appeared as if about to pass the _Janet_. In a few minutes, however, the British ensign was seen flying from the lugger's mainyard; at the same time it was perceived that the frigate would have little chance of overtaking the pirate proas. Lord Reginald stood up and waved his hat, while all hands shouted at the top of their voices. "They've made us out. She's about to heave to, sir. Hurrah! hurrah!" shouted Dick. The frigate, coming up with the wind, hove her maintop-sail aback. The lugger stood on for a short time, then hauling her wind, ran up under the _Wolf's_ lee. "What craft is that?" asked a voice from the frigate's gangway. "The private yacht _Janet_, bound from we don't know exactly where, for Batavia, or for any British man-of-war we can fall in with, especially the _Wolf_," answered Lord Reginald. "You've fallen in with the very frigate you're in search of," answered Mr Curling, the first lieutenant, who had before spoken. "Come alongside, and let's hear more about you." "That's more than we can do with these outriggers," said Lord Reginald. "Lower a boat, and we will step into her." This was speedily done, and Lord Reginald, in another minute, was ascending the sides of the frigate. Dick hesitated about going on board. The moment he had been dreading had arrived; he must now be separated by an immeasurable distance from the man he had learned to love and respect. Lord Reginald received a warm welcome from Captain Moubray and his brother officers. Great, indeed, was their astonishment at seeing him. It was fully believed that either the _Marie_ had been captured, or that she had been lost in the hurricane which came on soon after the convoy reached Batavia. "And now we must either drop your craft astern or hoist her up, for we must continue the chase of yonder piratical fleet," said the captain. "I doubt very much whether we shall be able to tow her without the risk of tearing out her bows," said Lord Reginald, "it will be safer to hoist her up, though to do so we must first unship her outriggers. Her builder is on board, and as soon as he has completed his task I should wish to introduce him to you, as he is a young man of talent to whom I am most deeply indebted." "I shall be happy to make his acquaintance," answered the captain, not dreaming of whom Lord Reginald spoke. The carpenter, with three or four hands, under Dick's superintendence, quickly unshipped the outriggers, and all wondered, when they saw how narrow and frail she looked, that she should have come without accident so great a distance. As she touched the deck out jumped Neptune, leaping and barking with delight at seeing his old shipmates, who patted his head and stroked him as he rushed in and out among them. The boat being hoisted in, and the mainyard being braced round, the frigate was steered as close as the wind would allow in the direction taken by the pirate fleet. Dick, who had not as yet been recognised by any of his old shipmates, busied himself in stowing away the _Janet's_ masts and sails, until Lord Reginald, coming along the deck, took him by the arm and led him aft to the captain. "Now let me introduce my friend, Mr Richard Hargrave. I can especially recommend him to you, sir, as a young man of sterling worth, possessed of talents of no ordinary kind, and he has twice saved my life." The captain, to Dick's great surprise, shook him cordially by the hand. "I shall be happy, Lord Reginald, to do my best to serve him," he said, not recognising Dick as one of his crew. "The greatest favour you can do me would be to place him on the quarter-deck, and I can answer for it that he will prove an ornament to the service," answered Lord Reginald. Perhaps no one was more astonished than was Mr Curling, who remembered Dick, though the others did not, and also the ill feeling shown towards him by Lord Reginald, but he kept his counsel, waiting to hear the captain's reply. "He is rather old to enter the service, but as I am glad to do anything you wish, and to reward him for saving your life, I cannot refuse your request," answered the captain; "and as we have several vacancies which I can fill up, I will appoint Mr Hargrave as one of the midshipmen of this ship." Lord Reginald expressed his gratitude to the captain, and, shaking Dick by the hand, heartily congratulated him on his promotion. "I ought to have said, sir, that he has served on board this ship, and I think the officers who observed him will acknowledge that he always did his duty." "I can answer for that," said the first lieutenant. "I am truly glad to find that I was not mistaken in the opinion I long ago formed of him." "Now, my dear Hargrave," said Lord Reginald, "I must introduce you to the other midshipmen. They will all be eager to hear an account of our adventures on the island, and I am sure you need have no fear as to the way they will receive you." Before, however, Lord Reginald took him into the berth he got him rigged out in a uniform supplied by the purser, which, with other articles of clothing belonging to Voules, made up his outfit. The midshipmen received Dick in a friendly manner, no allusion being made to his former rating. He took the first opportunity of paying a visit to the cabin of Mr Bitts the boatswain. "I thought I knew you when you came on board, but was not certain enough to go up and speak to you," said Mr Bitts. "And now, Mr Hargrave, pray understand that though I did use my rattan now and then pretty sharply, I did it for your good, but as I had then a sincere wish to make a first-rate sailor of you, so I shall consider it a favour, if you ever want instruction in seamanship, if you'll come and ask me, and I shall be proud of affording it. There's many a wrinkle I can give you which the quarterdeck officers might not think of. Some day, and I hope it will not be long hence, you'll be my superior in the service, and it will be my boast to be able to say, `I taught him; I knew he'd turn out an honour to the navy.'" Dick thanked Mr Bitts, and promised faithfully to take advantage of his offer. In the mean time, the frigate under all sail had been chasing the pirates. Though she went much faster through the water than they did, she had to make frequent tacks to keep them in sight. They were still a long way ahead of her when darkness came on, and in the morning no sign of them could be seen. After spending some time fruitlessly looking about for them, and after visiting several of the Dutch settlements lately taken possession of by England, the _Wolf_ returned to Batavia, where the _Janet_ was landed, and Dick, had he been so disposed, might have exhibited her as a curiosity in naval architecture. Here also Robson and Pierre went on shore, the former to obtain a berth as mate of an English merchantman, the latter to return at liberty to his native country on the first opportunity. From Batavia the _Wolf_ sailed for Madras, then, after cruising for some time in the Indian seas, and capturing several prizes, she was at length ordered home. She had made during the time she was on the East Indian station a considerable amount of prize-money, and though a midshipman's share is not very large compared to that of the captain, Dick's was not only sufficient to obtain a good outfit, but he had besides a well-filled purse in his pocket. "I want you to make me your banker," said Lord Reginald, as they were one day walking the deck together, and talking of home, "and that you may make such presents to your father and mother and blind sister as you choose, you must draw on me for your future requirements. I will ask my father to get you on board the next ship to which I am appointed, and I hope that by the time I am made a commander you will have become a lieutenant, and that we shall still serve together." Lord Reginald was somewhat surprised, though Dick thanked him heartily, when he declined the first part of his offer. "My wants are not likely to be great, and I hope that the cash I now have and such prize-money as we may gain in future, will be ample to supply them," he added. "Well, well," said Lord Reginald, fully appreciating Dick's feelings on the subject, "you are very unlike poor Voules, who did not scruple to borrow what he had no intention to repay; but we will not talk of his faults, poor fellow! I understand him now better than I did, but I have more reason to blame myself for having been toadied by such a man, than to find fault with him for paying court to me." The _Wolf_ reached Portsmouth after a somewhat long voyage, and going into harbour, was at once paid off. Lord Reginald invited Dick to accompany him to Elverston. "Don't say who you are, and they'll suppose that I have got another Voules in tow," he said, laughing. Dick thought it would appear ungrateful not to accept the invitation. Lord Reginald was received as one from the dead, as the news of his disappearance had reached home, and nothing had been heard of him since. After his mother and sisters had somewhat recovered from the agitation into which they had been thrown by his reappearance, and he had received the congratulations of his father and his elder brothers, Viscount Elverston and Lord John, he took Dick by the arm and introduced him as his friend and late shipmate, without mentioning his name. The whole party then entered the drawing-room. There were several persons, including three young ladies, engaged in various feminine occupations. One of them, a bright-eyed blooming girl, Dick thought resembled greatly in features his sister Janet. He was describing to Lady Julia, who, now married, was staying with her husband in the house, their adventures on the island, when, turning round, he saw the last-mentioned young lady trembling violently, and gazing earnestly at him. "Oh, my brother, my dear brother!" she exclaimed, suddenly rising and throwing herself into his arms, quite forgetting the company present. "Have you really come back? I know you, Dick, though I never saw your face before. I know you by your voice and your likeness to our father." Dick, giving vent to his feelings in a way midshipmen are not wont to do, pressed her to his heart. "You are quite right, Miss Hargrave, it is your brother Richard, and my dearest and best friend," said Lord Reginald, coming forward. Matters were soon explained, and Dick received the heartfelt thanks of the marquis and Lady Elverston as the preserver of their son, and compliments innumerable flowed in upon him from all the company present. As soon as he could he seated himself near Janet, who told him of the welfare of their father and mother, and how she had been restored to sight by the removal of the cataract from her eyes by a skilful oculist to whom Lady Elverston had taken her. Dick and Janet set off the next day for their father's farm. Dick's stay on shore, however, consisted but of a few weeks, some of which were spent at Elverston in company with Lord Reginald. He paid poor Susan Rudall and her children a visit, when he performed the painful duty of giving them an account of Ben's death. Lord Reginald, however, cheered her up somewhat, by assuring her that she should not come to want, a promise which he faithfully fulfilled, the marquis making her an allowance, while Lady Elverston obtained employment for her in the neighbourhood. At length, Lord Reginald and Dick joined a fine frigate, to which the former had been appointed as second lieutenant. The marquis as speedily as possible obtained Dick's promotion. Both he and Lord Reginald rose to the top of their profession, and few more gallant officers have served their country than Admirals Lord Reginald Oswald and Richard Hargrave. THE END. 
50713	----	One Against the Moon DONALD A. WOLLHEIM The World Publishing Company CLEVELAND AND NEW YORK Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 56-9261 FIRST EDITION HC856 Copyright 1956 by Donald A. Wollheim. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher, except for brief passages included in a review appearing in a newspaper or magazine. Manufactured in the United States of America. [Transcriber's Note: Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] To WILLIAM BALTER A fixed star in a fickle sky DONALD A. WOLLHEIM HAS WRITTEN The Secret of Saturn's Rings The Secret of the Martian Moons HAS EDITED Terror in the Modern Vein Every Boy's Book of Science-Fiction The Portable Novels of Science Flight into Space Adventures on Other Planets The Pocket Book of Science-Fiction Contents 1. Dream of Stars 13 2. White Sands or Red? 23 3. Up the Space Ladder 33 4. Riding the Atoms 51 5. Fall Without End 61 6. Target: Luna 71 7. The Honeycomb Place 81 8. Robinson Crusoe Carew 92 9. From Stone Age to Iron Age 102 10. The Incredible Footprints 111 11. The Glass Man 121 12. The Long Trek 131 13. The Sun and the Trap 147 14. The Man From Lake Baikal 157 15. Getaway Bomb 165 16. On the Crater Floor 175 17. Moon Calling Earth 187 18. Madman's Battle 198 19. Riding the Tornado 208 One Against the Moon _1. To Dream of Stars_ That morning began like all the preceding mornings of the past two years with the tinny jangling of the little alarm clock on Robin Carew's bureau. Opening his black eyes, he struggled into a sitting position on the narrow bed, reached out his hand and turned off the alarm. He yawned, swung his feet to the floor, rubbed his eyes. It was half past seven again of another workday morning. There was no inkling that this day would be any different from others. It was Monday again, which meant the start of the next five and a half days' stretch of work. Sunday had come and gone, now just a memory of a walk in the city's small park and sitting on a bench under the afternoon sun reading a library book on astronomy. Well, there was no getting around it, Robin thought. The stars, the glory of the heavens--for him perhaps they would always be just a daydream of his idle hours, never to be more than a vision of the imagination, a thrill to be shared only by the printed words of other men's observations and doings. He got up, yawned his entire five foot three, stared in the tarnished mirror over the worn bureau. He looked blankly at himself, then suddenly winked. Ah, he thought, while there's life there's hope--and besides, he had to get to work. He ran a brush through his tousled brown hair, took off his pajamas, and climbed into his work clothes. Grabbing his towel and his toothbrush, he opened the door and went out into the hall toward the washroom. The facilities at the Y were always clean at least, and maybe in a few more months he would be promoted out of the apprentice class at the factory. Then he could afford to get a bigger room on the floor above with his own washstand and shower. After he had returned and finished dressing, he glanced out the narrow window. He could just make out a slit of sky and spot the sidewalk below. It was a sunny day, he saw, and a warm one. Putting on his jacket, he left his cap behind and went out, locking the door of his little room behind him. Not waiting for the creaky elevator, he skipped down the iron stairs to the lobby. Waving hello to a couple of his fellow boarders, he made his way over to the newsstand. There he paused to glance at the headlines, to scan the racks of magazines to see if there were any he might think of buying that he hadn't seen before. He didn't notice any. His eye, rapidly discarding the featured stories in the papers about the usual crimes and politics, was caught by a small heading: ROCKET PROGRAM AHEAD OF SCHEDULE--PROJECT CHIEF REPORTS TESTS ARE MANY MONTHS ADVANCED! Robin stopped, rapidly glanced over the story. He wished he had the time to read the whole story, but he knew he hadn't. Anyway, he could probably borrow a copy during lunch hour from one of the fellows. But it was stories like that which fascinated him. As he went into the cafeteria at the Y and sat eating a quick breakfast, he thought about the story. He'd always been fascinated by rockets and the stars. Even when still a kid at the orphanage, he'd read everything he could get on the subject. He'd never stopped doing so. Now that he was out of the school, out on his own the past three years, he still had the bug. The White Sands and Redstone rocket experiments were making headlines more and more. The first dozen little satellites had been thrilling reading--the discussions of the permanent artificial satellite program, now under way, was even more so, for it promised to be the beginning of the long-projected Space Platform, from which in turn would come the first real space flight. Robin wished he knew more of the things that were going on. Somewhere out there in the West, on the deserts and sands of New Mexico a couple of thousand miles away, history was being made. Many of the fellows working there couldn't be much older than he. But fate was a grim and arbitrary thing. For others, a college education could bring to a fine point the talent for mathematics and chemistry and physics that was needed for this work. For an orphan boy, however, the world reserved less glamorous and more immediately practical objectives. Oh, sure, he'd had a chance at a scholarship, but somehow he just hadn't made it. The manual training programs stressed at the State Home had just not allowed him the extra time to study for a scholarship. Even though his instructors had given him the chance, he simply hadn't been able to make it. For him, the study of abstract science was to be a matter of home reading. He'd devoured all the books in the library on the stars. And he still dreamed, even while working in the carpentry shop of the factory here, of flying through space on wings of flame. Perhaps, if he'd had a mother and father like most fellows, he'd have gone to college, might even now be on his way to help the rocket men conquer the universe. But his folks had died somewhere in the holocaust of war, back during the fall of Hitler's Germany, back when he was just a frightened and helpless kid of seven. As he had agreed a thousand times since then, Robin reflected, as he spooned cereal to his mouth, he was lucky even so. For somehow the GI's had found a battered, dirty envelope sewn into his worn internment-camp jacket with identification that proved him the American-born son of American parents, who had been interned in the enemy country. But where his parents were ... well, there had been some terrible bombing in those days. There was never any trace of the Carews. Robin had only a vague memory of his people, somewhere lost amid a nightmare of terror. As most of the kids in the orphanage had, Robin dreamed of someday finding his folks, of finding them rich. But it was, as always, a dream. The American army had brought him home, had sought to trace his folks, and had failed. Well, Robin still was lucky. It was no shame to be a workingman in a democratic country. Time was passing. Robin hastily gulped down the glass of milk he knew he needed for his daily labors, and, paying his check, dashed out. He caught the bus at the corner, crowding in with others on their way, and rode it for fifteen minutes out to the edge of town where the big plant stood. He jumped off and headed for the main gates. He noticed a large crowd of men standing in front of them. Why were they standing, he thought, why didn't they go on in, punch their cards? He came up to them, saw them standing around talking uneasily, some milling around, holding their lunch pails idly in their hands. Robin pushed through to the main gate. He saw a knot of men staring at a sign tacked on the post. He got closer and read it. It was a statement from the management. It seemed that the plant was closed for six weeks, due to a combination of circumstances. There was a shortage in the raw materials because of the heavy floods in the mining areas that spring, and so the management had decided to take advantage of that shortage to retool and recondition the works. Men in several departments would be called in during the next few days, the rest would be laid off temporarily. Another notice tacked below that stated that the company had arranged with the union for compensation during the period. Robin stared at the notice numbly for a minute. He himself had not yet been admitted to the union, for he was only a learning apprentice. For him there would possibly be only a period of six barren, workless weeks. He wandered away from the gates, drifted around idly, listening to the groups of men talking. Most of them seemed to be taking it calmly enough. Several of them were talking with growing enthusiasm of organizing a hunting-and-fishing trip upstate for the next week or so. One was talking of going home to visit the old folks back at the farm. Most of them seemed to be looking forward more or less to a period of loafing around at home with their families. Suddenly Robin felt more alone than usual. For him, there was no family. Even at its best an orphanage has a certain coldness, a certain impersonal precision that can never make up for the warmth of family life. He had friends there, but surely by this time they, too, had left, having gone into business or into the armed forces. The cold halls of the Y offered no particular relaxation. Even utilizing the city library to burrow deep into his favorite imaginative studies of science seemed a barren prospect for six whole weeks. He wandered away from the men, walked along the great factory wall, hands in his pockets, strolling slowly away from the city, along the road to the open country, beyond the end of the bus lines. He thought about himself. He took stock of himself. Nearly twenty now, he was a good mechanic, a pretty good carpenter, handy. He'd always be able to get a job somewhere in which he could work with his hands. He'd never thought too much though about the future. He would be taken sooner or later by the armed forces. They hadn't needed him and he hadn't thought about volunteering first. He was always a little sensitive about his height, for he was short for his age. This had probably operated subconsciously to keep him from joining up. I could sign up now, he thought. This might be the time. Besides, he went on in his reasoning, if I volunteered I could pick my own branch of the service. I could pick the Air Force and maybe get to see some rockets and jets in action. I couldn't rate a pilot's commission because I'm no college man, but I bet I could qualify as a mechanic, get to work on the rocket planes. Why, maybe I could even manage to get sent to White Sands, work on the Space Platform and the Artificial Satellites. Maybe someday I'll be one of the guys who help tool up the first rocket to the moon! He found himself growing excited at the thought. But, he reminded himself, my chances are slim of getting what I want. There are so many good guys in the Air Force, my own chance of being sent to one particular place is small, really small. Somehow, he knew if he couldn't be around the rockets, he wouldn't be happy under discipline. He'd had enough barracks life in the orphanage, more didn't appeal to him without some special compensation--something like White Sands. So--he had six weeks with nothing to do. He walked on, beyond the town now, alongside the highway, the morning sun shining down, the blue sky beaming overhead, and he began to feel himself swelling with energy, glowing with ambition. Six weeks ... six weeks. He was young, he had no ties. Maybe he could hitchhike to White Sands in time to look around, maybe spot a rocket go winging off into the sky, then hitchhike back in time for the factory's reopening. The idea blazed into his mind, he felt his pulse beating uncontrollably. Maybe, maybe, his mind added to the picture, maybe you could get a job in White Sands, near the field. Maybe they hire civilian workers? Or--maybe if you enlist there they'll let you serve there? Abruptly he turned around, started walking rapidly back to the city. He'd do it, he told himself excitedly. He'd do it. He'd go back to the Y now, today, collect what he needed, take the few dollars he'd saved up, and go. His mind repeated a rhythm as he walked. Do it now, if you don't do it now, you'll never do it. This is your chance. Go. The West is calling. The rockets are calling. Make a break for yourself. Go! He reached the end of the bus line, hopped on the bus, vibrated in tune to his racing thoughts all the way back. But an hour and a half later, when he was standing in the bus terminal, the first flush of excitement had drained away. Now he felt a cold chill running through him. He had made the break, packed a few necessities, drew his small reserve of cash from the bank, paid his room rent six weeks in advance, and bought a ticket on the bus going westward. He couldn't afford the entire trip to New Mexico, so he bought passage for a few hundred miles. After that he'd hike and thumb rides the rest of the way. He didn't want to resort to charity so he had kept enough funds to keep him in food and lodgings if necessary and maybe take him part way home again. For a moment before boarding the bus, Robin hesitated. Was it after all but a daydream that he was pursuing? Was the cold reality to prove too indifferent to the hopes of just an ordinary young fellow? Would White Sands prove a disappointment? Was this a mistake he would regret? For just a second he hesitated and then, shaking his head angrily as if to drive out such thoughts, he stepped aboard the bus, slung his lightly packed valise onto the rack over an empty seat, and sat down. He would refuse to give up his vision. He would see this through. The horn honked, two or three more passengers swung aboard, the driver threw in the clutch, and the bus drove out of the terminal, along the long, dusty road west. _2. White Sands or Red?_ From Missouri where the bus ride had ended, the time had passed with difficulty. There had been two hot days through Kansas, standing by lonely roadsides while cars whizzed by without stopping, the strong sun beating down over the flat green plains, the insects alive with the fever of the endless wheat. Robin had to keep heading south, south and west always, driving down when cars were going that way. Down through Oklahoma, thumbing his way, sometimes with an Eastern tourist on his way to California, sometimes with a tired rancher or oil worker on a short haul to his home or town, sometimes with a bored truck driver anxious to have someone to talk to on the long trip. The closer he drew to his objective, the more excited he became. When the oil fields and gray lands of Oklahoma began to turn to the green flatness of the Texas Panhandle he grew silent, more intense. And finally, one morning when he sped out of Amarillo sharing the high front seat of a giant trailer truck bound for El Paso, he was almost speechless for miles and miles. Then, suddenly, as the road clicked across the invisible border of New Mexico, he began to talk. A sudden calm invaded his nerves. He talked with the driver about things back home, exchanged comments on the affairs in the news, his eyes taking stock of this land all the time. It was barren--for vast stretches dry desert and flat rock with only sparse clumps of desert green--now and then a stretch of good grasslands where cattle could be seen grazing. In the distance, gaunt mountain chains rose and fell; and the air was getting clear and thin as the road gradually rose in altitude. After a bite in Roswell, when he piled back into the truck, Robin knew he was on his last stretch. After the next stop, Alamogordo, he would reach his destination, Las Cruces. Mention of Alamogordo, though, set the driver talking about the atom bomb, for that had been the town that had first seen the birth of that eerie fire which seemed so destined to transform the world. "Did you ever see one of those blasts?" asked Robin quietly. "Yeah," said the driver slowly. "Guess you could say so. Didn't actually see the thing itself, but I seen the glare one morning while putting over in Alamogordo. Quite a sight. You know the blast was plenty far away too; they don't fire them things off anywhere near where they can hurt anybody. Wisht I'd get to see one of them rockets go up they're always firing off at White Sands too. But I guess you gotta be on the grounds for that, and they don't let visitors hang around." "No visitors?" asked Robin, a little uneasily. "Nope. That's all top-secret stuff out there. Now that they got those man-made satellite projects in operation, it's even more so. Maybe they let a few reporters in on special occasions, or some high brass with clearance from Washington, but nobody else can get in. Can't even get the GI's who are out there to talk much about it. You'll see a lot of them around Las Cruces Saturday nights on furlough but they just don't discuss it." "How far is White Sands from Las Cruces?" asked Robin. "Oh, not too far, maybe thirty miles. The proving grounds are out on the desert though, part of the Holloman Air Development Center that is taking up a lot of this here Tularosa Basin these years. Without a pass, you can't even get in sight of it. But, heck, you wouldn't want to, I hope. Might get conked when one of those whacking big rockets come down. They're always shooting 'em up on tests, making them bigger and bigger. You can't tell me they always know where they're going to come down!" They passed Alamogordo, drove an hour more through the stillness of the desert, and suddenly they were in Las Cruces. The truck drew to a halt, and Robin dropped off, his valise in his hand. The city didn't seem aware of its unique position on the map of world history. Robin trudged along the main street until he found a small hotel within his means. He got a room, washed from the trip, brushed his clothes. He had not taken any pants to spare, having put on a strong pair of khaki work trousers, figuring correctly that they were more the thing for hitchhiking than his one good Sunday suit. By the time he went downstairs night had fallen. He got a bite to eat, walked around the town a bit, went back and to bed. He was dog-tired from the long day's ride. Next day he walked the town, looking it over, asking questions about how to get to White Sands. He found that the truck driver's advice had been right. There simply was no way a visitor could just go and watch. It was all top-secret stuff, barred to any but legitimate personnel. He found an Air Force recruiting office, went in, and talked with the sergeant in charge. Robin had begun to dread the thought that in the end he might have to go back to his home city and back to work in the factory. He had so fixed his mind on the rockets, he couldn't bring himself to admit defeat now. The Air Force man confirmed the usual information. Robin pressed him to say whether if he signed up for the service in Las Cruces he wouldn't stand a good chance of being assigned there. The sergeant laughed. "Well, it's possible, but it might take a little doing. You get in the Air Force, let us train you for a good job, say you work to be a mechanic for jets and rockets, then maybe you might be assigned here. But there are lots of stations for men, and you might not. Still, if you were to work for it, say after a year in service, you might apply for a transfer to White Sands; it could be that you could get it. But there's no guarantee, none at all. If the force needs you more somewhere else, that'll have to be it. Why not sign up and try for it?" But Robin shook his head. "Not yet. I want to see if maybe I can get a civilian job there first, or maybe just visit it once." The sergeant nodded. "You can try. After that, come around and see me again." Robin nodded, and left. He thought about that as he walked the streets. It might be a good alternative. It did offer at least a chance at the work he dreamed of, at being near the rockets. Yet--to be so near _now_ and be stopped. A year, even in the Air Force, still seemed a mighty long time to wait. He found the civilian employment office for the White Sands Proving Grounds, but it was not only closed, it being Saturday afternoon, but there was a sign saying, _No Help Wanted_. That night he began to notice men in Air Force dress blues, others in GI khaki, and even some in ordinary olive-drab fatigues appearing in the streets. He realized it was Saturday night and the streets were beginning to show the signs of life for the men's one night a week in town. Ranchers were driving in, their cars lining the curbs. Buses bearing the name of White Sands would come in, unload their pleasure-hungry men, and park somewhere or else go back. White-capped MP's were appearing at corners to augment the local police. Nevertheless, there was mighty little disturbance. There weren't the noisy carryings-on that usually marked towns near army bases when soldiers had a night off. These were picked men, and they behaved themselves. Robin was not a drinker and not a roisterer, yet that evening he wondered if he oughtn't to have been. For if he could have learned to hang around some of the livelier bars, he might have been able to strike up conversations with the men of White Sands. After a while, he did indeed enter one, sat nursing a lone beer while listening to the men. But they did not talk business. They talked the talk that soldiers on leave talk everywhere. Their girl friends, their pals, their latest jokes, gossip, but never a word about rockets, never a word about satellites, never a whisper about their work. Robin drifted with the crowd in the streets for several hours, finally again found another corner in a dim tavern where he sat, by this time a little tired, a little confused, wondering whether he had not made a mistake in coming here at all. The whole day had been frustration and his spirits were at low ebb. Two men in fatigue denims were seated near him, arguing. One was plainly far gone under the influence of liquor. He was bleary-eyed, nodding and mumbling. The other, trying to hold him, shaking him, was actually almost as far gone. He was mumbling something about getting up and going; they had to make the last truck to camp. Finally the two got up, staggered to the men's room, and disappeared inside. Robin resumed his meditations, noting that the place was nearly empty now, that the streets were silent. Obviously time had run out for the men, and they were on their way back to camp. Suddenly it occurred to him that the two soldiers had failed to come out of the lavatory. Robin slipped out of his seat, opened the door of the washroom, and went in. The two men were there, together on the floor, sound asleep. Hastily Robin knelt down, shook them. "Wake up, you got to go back to camp!" he called. But he couldn't budge them. One mumbled something without opening his eyes, slumped back, and began to snore. The other didn't even respond that much. For a moment Robin stood beside them, thinking that he ought to go and tell the proprietor. Then he heard a voice call loudly outside in the bar: "Any of youse guys going back tonight better step on it! Bus's leaving in two minutes!" An MP rounding up the stragglers, Robin thought. And in that moment, a sudden chill ran through him, a sudden wild thought leaped into his head. He stood transfixed for an instant. For an instant which seemed to last an eternity, an instant in which all his training, all his instincts and ambitions fought and struggled together in a mad hysteria. Here was an opportunity, here was a chance--yet a trickery, an illegality. If he borrowed one of the unconscious men's jackets, borrowed his pass, he could ride back to White Sands that very night, and in the dark and confusion, who would know? Nobody, he felt sure. The next day--well, he'd be surely found, arrested. But--in the meantime, for a blessed hour or so, he would see the rockets in their gaunt glory, in their towering eminences, see an assault against the skies, watch the hissing blue flame ascend to the heavens, see a sight he would remember with joy the rest of his life. What then if he spent some bad hours under arrest? What even if he went to jail? Actually what could they do to him? He was no spy, he was no saboteur. No matter how exhaustive the investigation, it would prove nothing evil against him. He remembered a sermon that had once been given at the orphanage. He remembered the minister dwelling on the opportunities of life. He remembered that which had sparked his imagination then, the minister's depiction of the various roads each man must choose. "There comes a time," the speaker had said, "in every man's life when various roads open out before him, each leading in a different direction. If, at that moment, he makes his choice, then his entire life may be forever set upon a channel, and the other possible lives will vanish." Was not this then such a crossroads? Robin could go back, be a factory hand, be a contented mechanic or carpenter, marry, settle down, and live his life without ever seeing rockets. Or he could take the road that now, for a brief flicker, seemed open to him. He bent down, removed the khaki work jacket the smaller of the two men was wearing, shrugged his own shoulders into it, felt in its pocket, pulled out a folded piece of paper, glanced at it. _Pass_, it read. _Seven hours. Red Sands Station._ He shoved it into his pocket, pushed open the washroom door, and walked rapidly to the street, his head down. As he emerged onto the street, he was grabbed roughly by an MP. "Hurry, feller," the man said. "What station?" "Red Sands," muttered Robin in a low voice, and was instantly whirled around bodily and given a push. "Up the street and around the corner. The second bus. Run!" Robin broke into a run, dashed around the corner. In the darkened side street, three buses were warming up, the first already beginning to roll. Robin ran for the second, and just as it was pulling away from the curb, several hands reached out of the door, took hold of Robin's hands, and heaved him aboard. He found a seat in the back of the crowded bus, kept his head down to avoid having anybody realize he was a stranger, and caught his breath. The bus gathered speed, roared down the quiet side streets, and turned onto the highway beyond the town. Robin was on his way to the rockets, to the famous White Sands Proving Grounds ... or was he? What was the Red Sands Station anyway? _Red_ Sands? Why had he never heard of it? _3. Up the Space Ladder_ The bus roared on through the night, its cargo of men now mainly silent, dozing as their vehicle jolted along. The moon, which was full, shed a pale glow over the desolate landscape through which the road ran straight as an arrow. The vehicle had departed from the main highway fairly soon after leaving town, and had gone along another leading out into the wastes which was the government reserve. Robin had caught a momentary glimpse of floodlighted signs warning casual motorists against the use of the road, warning all that it was U.S. property. The men in the bus talked little. Most of them tired, and some a little the worse for a night's revels, were sleeping. Two or three snored away, unmindful of the hard seats and the jolting along the road. Seated in the back, shoulder to shoulder with several others, Robin kept quiet, watching the scene through the open windows and seeing what could be seen of the terrain without making his observations too obvious. Thus far the landscape was the familiar desert of New Mexico, desolate and arid flatland with which Robin had become familiar on the trip down. On the horizon he could see the humps of mountains, the peaks that bordered the vast proving grounds. Near him, a couple of soldiers were conversing in low tones and Robin caught snatches of their conversation. At first it was mainly talk of what they had seen and done that night, their girl friends, and so on. By and by they began to talk a bit about their work. Robin strained his ears. "I was thinking of asking for a transfer back to White Sands," said one of the men slowly. "Some of that new fuel they're bringing in makes me real uneasy." "Ahh," said the other, "you're just letting that extra security talk give you nerves. Sure, it's supposed to be atomic stuff, new, maybe even untested as far as I know, but, nuts, you can't get blown up any worse than you can handling that liquid oxygen and peroxide they got at White Sands. In fact, I understand that this stuff isn't half as tricky to pour as the old stuff." "Yeah, I know. I seen some of it being poured yesterday into that new big fellow they're lining up for tomorrow. But the point is that even if it's easier to pour--none of that fizzing and spitting you get when you leak a drop or two--it's atomic. That's the thing, atomic. What would happen if a White Sands rocket blew ... it'd be a big bang, sure enough, but it wouldn't blow the whole countryside to bits. But take this new stuff ... whew ... we'd all be one Bikini if it went off all at once." The other soldier was silent a moment. "Well," he said finally, "could be. On the other hand, I heard them say that it is really not half as explosive as the old stuff. That loxygen they use in the original Vikings is really dangerous, will go off quick at any spark. But this new stuff, it won't actually go off until it's touched off after the rocket has gone up a few miles. It's actually hard to blast--and then I understand they ain't sure it'll work." The other one nodded. "Uh uh, so they say, but you notice where they moved our outfit, didn't you? They don't want to blow the main fields out of existence by accident, just in case they might be a little wrong. So they invented this Red Sands layout. I don't even like the name." The soldiers fell silent awhile. Robin turned these words over carefully. He had read nothing of any Red Sands operation, and he remembered nothing of any talk about atomic fuels. In fact he'd understood that the problem was still one they had failed to solve--though the idea was intriguing. Chemical fuels, he knew, had definitely limited drive capacities. The most powerful chemical fuels possible even theoretically were those already in use, and were basically merely liquid oxygen and liquid hydrogen. And he knew that the main obstacle that always had to be faced by rocket engineers was the tremendous quantities and weights of the fuels to be burned in order to lift even a single pound of cargo. Atomic power, if liberated, had on the other hand almost unlimited possibilities as fuel. A mere pound or so of atomically liberated material could probably drive a spaceship a million miles with a full pay load too. But how to combine atomic explosions with controlled rocket fire? The problem had never been answered--at least not in the magazine and newspaper stories he had ever read. He thought about it awhile. Then the bus honked its horn. Robin craned his neck, looked forward. He saw they were paralleling a high wire fence and coming to a lighted area. A large sign on a wide road entrance branching off caught his eye and he read the magic words, _White Sands_. For a moment he thought the bus was going to enter as the driver slowed down. They came abreast of the gateway but the driver merely honked and waved and passed it by, Robin catching a glimpse of whitewashed barracks and low hangarlike structures beyond the gate. Then they roared on into the moonlit night, on toward the empty reaches of the desert where the mountains loomed dark in the horizon. Where was Red Sands? How far? Robin speculated on it. He had evidently hit on something more than he'd reckoned. This was a development unknown to the public. This was something that must have combined the special nature of the Los Alamos atomic testing grounds with the rocket grounds. And it was obviously tucked far away from them all. Suppose they caught him there, would he get off as lightly as he might at White Sands? Where atomics was concerned, secrecy was still enforced, despite the release of much information due to the installation of peaceful atomic plants in various parts of the world. But everyone knew that the world was still merely at the threshold of atomic glories and the nations were still anxiously vying with each other for leadership. He supposed that perhaps he might be sent to jail. He might perhaps be confined to the Red Sands grounds until such time as what he was to learn had become public property. That might take years! Robin squirmed a little as he thought over this possibility. It didn't appeal to him. Yet, the die was cast and there was now little he could do about it. He could, he thought, surrender now to the men in the bus. In that way, he'd be stopped from entering the forbidden area at all and might then merely get a bawling out and be released. But something in him absolutely rebelled at the thought. This far he had gone, this far he had moved toward the realization of a dream that had held him from childhood. He would go on, and if he were to pay the penalties for trespassing, he would at least see what he was paying for. Maybe, maybe, he would yet see a rocket go off. What was it the soldier had said, "that big fellow ... for tomorrow." Then Robin would be in time. The bus roared on for what seemed at least another hour. Finally it approached another fenced-in area, slowed down, and came to a halt briefly before a guarded gateway. The men stirred in their seats, the sleepers were nudged awake, everyone started to squirm around. The driver exchanged a few words with the guards, the bus shifted gears, rolled slowly through the gate, and came to a stop. Stiffly the men began to climb out. Robin waited until about half the men had preceded him, then, keeping his head low, followed. As the men jumped down from the bus, they stepped up to an MP standing by and showed him their passes. He examined each with a flashlight, took it, and waved the men on. Robin's feet hit the ground. Carefully keeping close to the man in front of him, he dug for the pass he'd found in his borrowed jacket. Holding it out, he stepped up to the guard. The pass was seized, scrutinized, and with a tap of the hand, Robin was waved on. The men were striding off in the direction of a group of low, long buildings of the standard army barracks type. Robin took the same general direction, casting his eyes about trying to estimate where he was and what was around. The moon was high and its light was strong in the clear desert air. A few dim bulbs showed on posts and one or two lights were flashed in the windows of the barracks. The men were heading directly for their beds--and Robin knew he had to head in the same direction if he did not wish to incur suspicion. It was a ticklish moment, for he did not dare do anything to arouse the suspicion that he was a stranger here. It was a long walk across the parade grounds and he allowed as much space as possible to drag out between himself and the other men. He came closer to the dark barracks buildings, walked along toward a dark doorway through which another man had gone. Turning his head he saw no one near him who might be watching, and Robin stepped into the dark doorway, then quickly side-stepped, slipped around the side of the building, and walked silently down the dark space between the two adjoining barracks. At the far end of the structures, remaining hidden in the shadow cast by the moon, he looked outward. He could see, stretching out beyond, the level ground of the desert. He could make out the structures of what looked like hangars and machine shops, and he could see a number of vehicles, trucks, and odd cranes parked around. Far away he caught a glimpse of something white. Was it a rocket? He crouched in the shadow and waited. After a while he heard no more footsteps, he saw the last lights in the barracks flicker out and silence descend on the station. He glanced at his watch. It was about two in the morning. Silently he moved out of the barracks' shadow, walked fast and softly to the shadow of the nearest truck. Reaching it, he paused, looked back. Nothing stirred. Proceeding in that fashion, Robin moved from shadow to shadow, keeping as little in the bright moonlight as he could. He reached a building, clearly a tool house. He walked along it, went on beyond, passed through the shadowed side of a long hangar, found a narrow roadway leading out to where the mysterious white object rested. He walked alongside it, half stooping, but feeling sure that no one had seen him. The Red Sands Station was silent. The white object proved to be a good deal farther away than he'd thought. He knew that distances in the desert were very deceptive, felt himself growing tired. Why, this objective might be two or three miles away, he realized now, but only increased his pace as if in answer to his tiring frame. The cold, dry desert air was bracing, and nothing moved save the occasional scurry of some tiny rat or lizard. What he had seen was indeed a rocket. It was at first a dot of white. Then it grew into a line of white like a snowy tree. As he neared it he realized its true dimensions. It was a tall giant rocket, as tall as an eight-story building, long and slim, towering in the desert like an obelisk left by some Aztec ruler. It was held by a framework of metal girders, like that of a newly completed building whose outer skeleton had not yet been dismantled. Near it stood a truck on high, thick wheels which bore a long, cranelike apparatus resembling the tentacles of some weird monster-insect. The rocket stood with its four wide-flanged fins jutting out near the base. Robin stopped at its base and stared up. He studied it, saw that it was apparently segmented, having lines of cleavage that divided it into four parts, the one at the pointed top being the shortest. This was a four-step rocket, he recognized, and knew at that moment that here also was a step beyond what the public knew. He walked slowly around it, awed and silent. He noticed now that there was a thin metal ladder running up the standing framework. The crane in the truck was for loading the top, he knew, but he could use this ladder himself to climb up without trying to start the truck-driven lift. He reached the bottom rung of the skeleton ladder, saw a sign attached to the framework. He looked at it, saw a number, apparently the code designation of this rocket. Glancing over it, the moonlight was not strong enough to allow him to read the words. He looked at the parked truck with the crane, walked over to it, looked inside. He found a flashlight in the dashboard compartment, took it. Lying over the seat was a pea jacket. The air was cold and would become colder. Robin borrowed it, shrugged into it. He saw a package lying beneath it, lifted it. A couple of candy bars it was. The driver must have had a sweet tooth. Robin stuffed the candy into the pocket of the jacket, which had other things in it as well. He returned to the rocket, read the work sheet by his flashlight. Most of it was incomprehensible. He saw that the sheet referred only to the fueling. Steps two, three, and four were fueled. Step one, the big one at the base was still empty and he saw that it was marked for fueling by five that morning. Firing time, he noted, was set for six. Robin glanced up. Here was a chance to examine the rocket completely. Glancing around again, he swung up the ladder, started the climb. The rocket's sides were welded metal, shiny and painted white. The various fuel sections were numbered in large black letters and the contents listed. He saw that the first and main fuel chamber occupied half of the length. The three upper sections, already loaded, he remembered, were marked in liters. The name of the fuel was meaningless to him. It must be, he thought, the atomic stuff the soldier had mentioned. This rocket could be a huge atomic bomb, he thought, chilled for a moment. But he continued climbing. At the very tip, he saw that two small, circular doors, like the escape hatches of submarines, were set flush in the side. One was closed, the upper and larger one was slightly ajar. He reached it, looked in. He flashed his light, peered around. It was a narrow, closetlike space, filling a section of the uppermost tip, just beneath the point of the top. It was padded and empty. Robin looked out from his perch at the top of the ladder. He looked away across the desert to the distant buildings of the Red Sands Station. He started suddenly. Something was blinking in the distance. He strained his eyes. Two tiny white lights were moving toward him from far away. He heard the distant purr of a motor. A jeep was coming to the rocket from the Red Sands Station. Had they seen his flashlight? Were they coming to investigate? He glanced desperately downward. The ground seemed so far away. He could never climb down the ladder in time to escape detection. The jeep was approaching swiftly. What could he do? In a flash of inspiration, he saw the open port of the dark closet-space at the rocket's tip. He climbed into it, swinging out from the ladder, hovering over the abyss, swinging his legs into the dark, padded interior. He crammed himself into it, found he fitted it neatly with very little room to spare and, grasping the circular door, pulled it toward him. It swung shut on its oiled hinges, clicked tightly into place. Robin crouched down, silent. For a while there was dead silence. Robin wondered if he would be able to hear anything that went on outside, considering the padding of the little space. For once he was thankful for being so short. If he'd been a few inches taller, he'd have found his position very uncomfortable. It was cramped, but not unbearable. He strained his ears, finally heard the vibrations of the jeep draw up to the base of the rocket and stop. He heard faint sounds which must have been the muffled voices of the jeep's riders. He lay quietly, hoping he would not be discovered. Outside, the jeep had come to a stop and the two men in the front seat stared around suspiciously. "I'd have sworn I saw a light for a moment out here," said the driver. The other scratched his head, looked around. "I'd better get out and look around, just to be certain." They both descended from the jeep. One went over and looked into the trucks and carriers, peering under them for possible hideaways. The other poked around the scaffolding at the base of the rocket. "This is the one they're firing off tomorrow, isn't it?" he asked when the other joined him after a moment. "Yeah," answered his companion, "or rather this morning. In fact in only a few hours. They've only got to load the main fuel chambers and they're ready." He shined his flashlight on the operations chart, the same one that Robin had examined earlier. "I wonder how come they loaded the other three earlier. That's odd. I thought that stuff couldn't hang around too long." "Don't you know," said the other, "this is that big top-secret experimental job they were working so fast on this week? Something to do with a new kind of fuel, fairly stable but loaded with radioactive elements. Some type of new compound which is supposed to add an atomic disintegration impetus when it goes off. Heard one of the engineers explain it as something like plutonium particles in suspension which get touched off atomically as they emerge in the rocket blast. They don't know for sure it will work." The other looked up at the towering structure. "I guess that's how come they're sending it up first with the regular loxygen fuel--so if the whole thing goes bang at once, it'll be high enough up not to blow the rest of us to kingdom come." He walked around the base a bit, stopped, flashed his light down, and picked up something. It was a cardboard sign that had been lying on the ground. He looked at it a moment. "Hey, this must have fallen from the cargo chamber," he said, showing his comrade the sign. It read: _Instruments in place. Do not disturb._ He turned it over. On the back it read: _Ready for loading._ "I better put this back where it fell from," he said, adding, "but which side is correct? Did you say they were firing it at six?" At his companion's assent, he said, "Well, I guess maybe they must have loaded the cameras and radio equipment this afternoon. I'll go up, put this back, and check it." The man started up the ladder, the same one that Robin had climbed a short while before. When he had arrived before the section where Robin lay hidden, he tried the circular door of that section. It was tightly shut. This signified to him that it was already loaded and without further thought he carefully attached the little sign reading _Do not disturb_ to the door. After a few more minutes' search, the two men climbed back in their jeep and drove back to the barracks-grounds. Inside the rocket, Robin had been unable to hear what they had been saying. Their voices came to him heavily muffled and distorted and he could not recognize the words. He heard the man come up the scaffolding ladder and try the door. But it had been tight and it had not budged. Then he'd gone down and a little later Robin had heard the jeep drive away. Robin lay there quietly on the soft padding and wondered how long he should stay in hiding. They might have left a man on guard or they might be keeping an eye on the rocket. If he came out right away, they might spot him. Better wait here a half hour, he said to himself, and then tried to make himself more comfortable. The day had been a long one and a tense one. He was more tired than he'd thought. The tiny, cramped cubby-hole in the nose of the rocket was pitch-dark, cushioned, and utterly quiet. Robin rested his eyes. Before he knew it, he was sound asleep. The air was close and became stale; Robin's slumber slowly became deep and drugged. * * * * * The sun rose at five and with it there arrived the men who would load and launch the rocket--several truckloads in fact, with a couple of tanks of fuel. The volatile liquids were readied for pouring into the tanks and chambers of the first and main firing section. The engineers arrived. They began to check the loads and the preparations. "The instruments in place?" asked Major Bronck, who was in charge of this operation. His assistant, a civilian engineer, glanced up the ladder. "According to the notice up there, they are. I don't remember seeing them installed myself, though. May have been done after we left yesterday." "Who was in charge of them?" the major asked. "Jackson, sir," the answer came, "but he hasn't been in camp today. Must have been left overnight in town." The major frowned. "Well, I don't see the instruments around so I guess he loaded them all right. Sloppy way of doing things, though. I don't like it. In fact, I don't particularly like this whole job. It's too hasty, too irregular." The other smiled, shrugged. "Can't help it. Big rush orders from Washington. They wouldn't even let us put this shot off till Monday. Had to get a fast test on this atomic fuel. I guess it's another of those things they think the Russians are up to." "Ahh, that's always an excuse for rushing. But I still say haste makes waste. Well, anyway we've got our orders so off it goes this morning. Trackers on the job?" "Sure, they're right on it. But we've still got to load the animals. This is going to be a high flier and the space-medicine people want in on it. Here's their stuff now." A light truck rolled up and two men came out carrying a crate. One of the automatic rolling cranes lifted them all up to the nose of the rocket. There, just below the instrument compartment, they opened another port and installed their burden, shutting the compartment again and sealing it. The major glanced at his watch, looked around. The main chamber was loaded, the tank had departed. At his order, the rolling scaffolding was swiftly detached and driven away. Now the rocket stood alone on its own fins, pointing skyward into the pink and orange dawn, its side a dazzling white, its nose a bright red, each section banded in green. "How far do you think it will go?" the major asked his assistant. "Anybody's guess," was the reply. "The fuel is untested and unpredictable. If this trick fuel fails to work, the whole thing will go up maybe six miles and then drop. If the atomic stuff turns into a bomb they'll hear the bang in Las Vegas. If it works as they expect, it might go up several hundred miles, maybe even more. It could make a better satellite rocket than the ones we've got up already. In fact that's what they're hoping. They think they may be able to make this the start of a real space-platform program--for once carrying a pay load up worth the carrying. But who knows?" The two climbed into a car and drove to where the concrete dugout was located. Entering it they nodded to the communications men and other engineers already gathered. The major took his place at the firing panel. He looked at his timer, waited a few minutes. Gradually the small talk ceased and a hush fell over the little guiding post. The major reached for the firing button. * * * * * Back in the rocket, Robin opened his eyes. The first thing he noticed when his head cleared from the grogginess of his deep sleep was a slight hissing noise somewhere below him. The air felt different in his little compartment. Somewhere a thin stream of oxygen was escaping into the chamber. He twisted around, felt about with his hands, located it. There was a thin line of holes along the seam of the padding underneath him. Now he heard other noises. Below him, a faint chattering, a scolding, the sound of something scratching. He put his ear down near the hole from where the air was issuing and listened. Yes, he thought to himself, animals. Somebody put some animals in the space just below me. Sounds like monkeys' chattering. Must be where the air is coming from. He had a headache. Bad air in here, he thought, and realized that had it not been for the animals being placed below him, he might have suffocated in that space. It was then that he fully realized what had happened--that he'd fallen asleep. The animals hadn't been there when he had first climbed in. So he must have slept for several hours at least. He squirmed around, reflecting on it, still not quite gathering his drugged wits together. That meant that the men must have arrived and started work on this rocket again. He thought this over, and a great uneasiness came over him. He strove to remember something urgent, something he knew he had to bring back to mind. Something about five o'clock and six o'clock. Loading time, launching time. Yes! They were firing this rocket at six! But what time was it now? How long had he slept? He looked at the luminous dial of his watch but was chagrined to find it had run down and he'd forgotten to wind it. He glanced rapidly around his little space, wondering how he could find out whether it was already day. Several glimpses of light hit his eyes. He saw that in three or four places there were tiny glass openings no larger than would admit a thick wire. He tried to look through one, but all he could see was blue sky. It was morning then. He strained his ears for outside noises, truck engines, men talking. But there was not a sound from outside. Only the faint squeakings of the animals below him. He twisted around again to face the little round door. It was padded on the inside, it had no handle there, nothing to get a grip on. He scrabbled in the padding with his fingers, reached the rim, and tried to push. There was no give. It was airtight, automatically sealed. He pushed against it, wondered what to do. He squirmed around against the padding, lay back with his head against the cushioning on the opposite side, his back resting on the floor padding, and put his feet against the side of the little door. Thus braced he was all set to shove the strength of his legs against the door in an effort to push it outward. He was about to do so when the rocket went off. _4. Riding the Atoms_ Suddenly it felt as if a giant had placed his huge palm squarely on Robin's chest and was pushing him down. As he tried to exert pressure against the door, the counter pressure of the invisible hand increased. For an instant Robin was thunderstruck. Had he suddenly become weak? What was this? His first emotion, that of amazement, changed in a split second to one of terror at his newly discovered weakness, and again from that to a feeling of stunned shock. There was no invisible hand! It was the rocket itself moving! Without thinking, Robin struggled to rise, but his muscles could not obey him. In the first seconds the pressure on him was mild, he might have been able to move if he'd given some extra effort. But by the time his astonishment had worn off, the pressure had climbed beyond the limitations of the cramped space and his young muscles. The rocket had started slowly as these great towering constructions do. The first blasts barely served to push it away from its launching guides. It seemed to tremble in every plate as if precariously perched upon the short, furious blast of yellow. Then the fiery tail lengthened as the tall, thin metal body rose slowly, lifted like a thin white pencil on the roaring cataract of burning gases. Now it was its own length from the ground, now pushing up faster, giving in split seconds the curious impression that it might topple over at any instant. But the steady rise gained in speed, the rocket pushed away from its burning tail ever faster, the fire turned from yellow to blue, and within a few more blinks of the eye it was hurtling into the sky, vanishing into a dot, and then was beyond sight. To Robin it seemed again as if a giant hand were pressing down. He felt it spreading over his body, felt himself being pushed relentlessly by superior weight against the matting of the compartment floor. His head was thrust down as if by a giant forefinger of this invisible monster leaning over him. Now it seemed as if the giant, in maniacal malice, was leaning his weight on his hand, pressing on Robin, trying to shove him through the floor if possible. He gasped for breath, could barely catch it against the growing pressure on his chest. His eyes sank into their sockets and he tried to close them but found the effort too much. All about him there was a roaring sound, a humming and thrumming, and now began a thin, piercing whistling, which was the air outside rushing past. The whistle rapidly increased to an ear-splitting shriek, then vanished, leaving eddies of unheard auditory vibrations. Robin tried to close his mouth, which had been forced open by the prying finger of pressure. He felt as if in another moment he must cave in, be squashed flat. His brain reeled dizzily, then suddenly a merciful blackness fell over him and he knew no more. At that very moment, though he could no longer sense it, there was a click, audible through the length of the vibrating column of metal, and the first section snapped off. Its great fuel tanks, so full of volatile gases an instant before, had emptied themselves in a fury of chemical combustion. The automatic releases had loosened the whole bottom half, the main fuel section, thrust it into space to fall and shatter upon the desert miles below. At that same split second, another series of relays touched off the second firing section. The new firing tubes blasted into action. Of a design different from those that preceded it, of a design new to the world of man, the experimental jet burst forth. For an instant it seemed as if the pressure had vanished in the rocket, for a split second the rocket stopped accelerating as it waited for the new impact. Then like a blast of lightning newly released from a storm, a shot of energy flashed through the racing metal body. The giant hand came down on everything within it with a firmness and power not sensed before. There was a blast now emerging from the tail of the flying rocket something like that of an atomic bomb, but not quite. It was not an explosion, but an atomic reaction. It was a rocket flare of an intensity and heat beyond all the potential of mere chemical reactions. It was atomic fire, chained and harnessed to the tail of a rocket. The thin white pencil, reduced in length, raced on into the dark stratospheric sky. * * * * * Back at Red Sands there was intense excitement in the control dugout. Major Bronck was racing around, anxiously yelling into telephones, watching the checkers, trying to keep track of everything happening at once. At first the ascent had been neat and according to routine. The crew in the dugout, the radar crew at the main camp, and the one co-operating with them from White Sands itself were checking all right. Then in an instant all three almost lost touch as their objective nearly swooped out of range. The trackers fought to get it back in focus, and one by one finally caught it again, farther and faster than they had planned for. "It's running wild!" was the way one startled crew chief told the major. "Going up and out like crazy!" The crew on the tracking telescopes racing around the desert were calling in their story. Visually they had lost it completely. They had gotten a nice set of telescopic photos of the first phase, then they had failed to adjust quickly enough to the unexpected second phase. Now they were sweeping the sky desperately hoping to pick it up again, but without success. Major Bronck called for a check on the last and surest guide. Among the instruments loaded in the nose of the rocket was a radio tone-signal sender. As a last resort, they should be able to pick up that signal from the rocket itself, confirm the story they were getting from their radar men. But the men at the radio listening posts reported no sound. And when the major asked if they had had it in the first place, the men admitted that they had not. There had never been any buzz on the ether from the rocket at all! At that moment, the main Red Sands camp got on the phone. A voice from the commander's office wanted to know why the instruments had not been loaded. It seems that the man responsible for them had just turned up at camp. Jackson had reported his jacket stolen, his pass along with it. Therefore the instruments for whose installation he had been charged with were still reposing in the camp! There had been a series of bungles, the major thought, as he tried to explain the situation. Obviously the rocket had not been checked as it should have been. Obviously whoever had calculated the course and power of the new fuels had erred very considerably. "But we've still got it on radar. Yes, sir. We'll hold it. We'll definitely see where it comes down, sir." The major listened, white-faced, to the commander's angry spluttering. "Yes, I know, sir. Top-secret stuff. But even if it lands a thousand miles away, we'll know, we'll spot it. Even if it managed to assume a satellite orbit, we could keep track of it. It's still going straight up. It might make an orbit. If it did, there'd be no chance of it coming down intact for foreign examination. It would probably circle the Earth a few times in a wild ellipse and then burn up in the atmosphere. We won't lose it." But lose it they did. The radars held it for two hours more, until finally it was beyond even the limits of their extended capacities. It was going up, up, and out, and even at the last there was no sign of it slowing down enough to form an orbit. When they finally checked it off as permanently lost, they knew they had witnessed the dawn of a new era. This rocket had assumed and passed the escape velocity. It was headed out into the trackless bounds of outer space. It would never return to Earth. There was even speculation that its last known course might intersect the Moon's orbit. Opinion in Washington, after all the reports were in, was divided on that. But, in spite of the bungling, the rocket had proved a valuable point. From that day onward, rocketry in the United States took a new tack. Robin Carew was dreaming. He was falling down an elevator shaft, falling swiftly floor after floor. Looking down at him from the space at the top of the high shaft was a gigantic face, leering at him while stretching a giant arm down the shaft trying to reach him. In his dream he had the curious mixed-up feeling of wishing the giant could catch him and stop his fall and at the same time being afraid that the giant might be successful and crush him in his huge fingers. He was falling, falling, and squirm as he might, the bottom of this terrible shaft was nowhere in sight. Robin thrashed around, trying to grab a cable, trying to catch one of the innumerable doors as they rushed past. He banged his hand against one, grabbed tight, jerked. His eyes snapped open, his mind struggled to gain a grasp of where he was. Nothing seemed to make sense. It was dark and he was bumping around in a tiny, tight space. Yet somehow he couldn't get his feet down, he still was falling. Suddenly he felt dizzy and then became aware of the aches all over his body. He stopped thrashing, let himself rest. He bumped against the tight side again, took the opportunity to stretch his body out straight and found he could not. He was touching both sides of the narrow space. His eyes found the space not entirely dark. A faint trace of light showed from a couple of spots somewhere in the dark enclosure. He realized where he was. He remembered now the take-off, the pressure. Why, he thought with a shock, the rocket went off. And I'm in it! We must be falling back to the sands now. In a few minutes we'll crash and that will be the end. He waited awhile, expecting to be snuffed out at any instant. But there was nothing. Just silence. And now a faint rustling sound where something was stirring and squeaking below him. The animals, he thought, are alive in the space below me. Then it occurred to him that he was not falling back, but perhaps falling away. His mind, which had been numbed from the pain and pressure, began to reassemble what he knew about rockets. And consciously the thought formed--the sensation of free fall is the same as the sensation of weightlessness found in space rockets. He thought he was falling, but was it not just as likely that instead he was simply beyond gravity? He felt himself over for broken spots, but somehow miraculously he had not been damaged. His eyes burned and he supposed they were bloodshot. A smear of stickiness around his face convinced him he'd suffered a nosebleed. But otherwise he was sound. He patted the jacket he wore and his hand encountered the cylindrical hardness of the flashlight he'd borrowed from the supply truck. He took it out, snapped it on. The little padded compartment was the same, the door still tightly wedged. He turned the light carefully around it, saw that the faint break in the total darkness before had come from two tiny openings--glass insets. Probably, he thought, the openings for the instruments, possibly the lens spots for cameras. He switched off his flashlight, put an eye to an opening. The spot of glass was thick but amazingly clear. He caught a glimpse of blue-black sky and a jagged line of misty gray and white, beneath which stretched the edge of a great brown-and-green bowl. He stared at it in puzzlement, watching it as it swung slowly away. He realized that the rocket had developed a slow spin, that his viewing spot would gradually circle the region around him. And he realized that the great brownish bowl was the Earth. From the darkness of the sky he realized that he must already be high in the stratosphere, possibly well beyond it. From the curvature of the horizon, he must be far up, several hundred miles, he guessed. And he could see that the curvature was increasing as he watched. The rocket was still traveling upward, traveling at an immense rate of speed. Its last rockets had blasted away and had left it with a heritage of unparalleled speed. Robin screwed up his eyes again, mentally calculated. He revised his estimate of his height, doubled it, redoubled it. Why, he might be a thousand miles up, two thousand, perhaps many times that! How fast was he traveling? He didn't know. He couldn't tell. He remembered the talk about atomic fuels he had overheard. Could it be that the inventors had miscalculated? Could it be that he was already in outer space, heading for the void, never to return to Earth? He screwed his eye again to the outlet. In the short time since he'd first looked the sky had darkened. It was black, jet-black, and the stars were fiery points of white. The Earth now seemed like a ball, a vast ball whose fringes glowed with the pale mistiness of a sun-lit blanket of air. But where he was there was no air. He was beyond any atmosphere. No whistling of atmospheric friction was present in the length of the silent rocket. And then a blinding white glow poked a piercing beam through the tiny eye-spot. It was the sun, unshielded, brilliant. In a moment the tiny ray vanished as the rocket continued its slow turning, but Robin in that instant had come to realize what had happened. He was in outer space, beyond Earth, never to return. He was the first man to reach that untracked void that bounded on all the stars and suns of a universe. He was the first--but who would ever know? Who could ever hear of him, whose helpless body, imprisoned in its shining airtight shell, now seemed doomed to float unsuspected forever on the cosmic tides of interplanetary space? _5. Fall Without End_ For a moment Robin felt dizzy again, and the falling sensation wracked him. It was the weightlessness, he knew. The sensation of being without weight was the same as that of being in free fall. And he was operating beyond the effects of gravity. Somehow the atomic rocket fuels had been far greater or far more effective than the inventors had calculated. He knew that they had never intended this rocket to be shot beyond Earth's grip--for if they had, they would not have loaded it with the test animals and they would not have placed a parachute-release arrangement in the nose. However, it now occurred to him he might be wrong about this. He had seen the reference to the parachute on the loading chart, and he now remembered lettering indicating parachute on the body of the rocket just above the little entryway to the topmost cargo compartment. Still, perhaps there was no parachute there. He squirmed around again, trying to get used to the nauseating sensation of free fall. He felt as if he had to exert conscious effort to keep his stomach from turning inside out. He felt an impulse to scream, to thrash his hands, and he had to remind himself that it was an illusion. For a while he just rested, floating in the little space, bumping steadily against one wall or another, with barely inches to spare. The tiny burning sunbeam pierced through again and vanished. Robin looked through the peephole. It was the dead black of outer space now, a black beyond conception, black with nothing in it to reflect. And against it an inconceivable array of brilliant points of light--the stars in numbers beyond any seen through the blanket of atmosphere. White, with some yellows and reds, and a few bluish ones here and there. The Earth moved again into sight and it was distinctly smaller--though still an impressively vast bowl--but beginning distinctly to resemble a monstrous globe in bas-relief, breathtakingly impressive with its living face, its shifting misty veil of air and water vapor. Robin became aware that he was thirsty. Yes, and hungry too. He took stock of his situation. He felt through his pockets, came up with one of the candy bars he had taken. He hefted it thoughtfully. Should he eat it now or save it? That raised the question he had been unconsciously avoiding. Save it for what? If he was indeed heading for the boundless regions of space, then he was a doomed man. If he ate now, it would mean that starvation would come sooner. If he delayed, doled it to himself in small bits, it could only prolong the agony awhile, but would not the result still be the same? There was the chance, the odd chance, that the rocket somehow might yet return to Earth. It might describe a circle, an arc, finally begin to fall back. If it did so, the parachute would operate and perhaps land Robin in safety. Somehow it didn't seem likely to Robin, yet that chance existed. If so, it would have to return to Earth before a full starvation period could result in death. Robin had read somewhere that one could go without food for as much as thirty days, but without water for not more than seven or eight. If the rocket were describing an arc or a parabola, then it would surely start its return within less than that week's leeway. With this in mind, Robin unwrapped the candy bar and ate it. The second one he would save as long as possible. But what about water? The squeaking of the test animals broke in on his thoughts. Surely they must have been supplied with some sort of food for their flight? Robin switched himself around to face the floor and began to dig at the padding there. He managed to loosen it, pull it to one side, revealing the floor of the compartment. As he had hoped, it was not a metal plate. His own chamber, the one for the instruments, was not a section in itself but only part of a section paneled off by braced plasterboard. And what was more there were already holes drilled through it so that the air in both sections would be equalized. This answered another question Robin had been trying to avoid. How was it the air was remaining fresh now, though it had gone stale while he was hiding? Apparently there was a small supply of oxygen operating automatically in the animal section that seeped through into the upper compartment too. Evidently once the rocket went into flight this started to work and would continue for the originally calculated period. Robin dug his fingers into the openings and pulled. Gradually the plasterboard bent away and opened a space into the section below. He looked down, using his flashlight. There were two cages below, well padded. In one, two little brown monkeys clung together floating just above the floor and looking terrified. They chattered when they saw him, but remained tightly locked in each other's arms. In the other, four small rabbits were placidly nibbling bits of lettuce, although one rabbit was upside down, another sideways on the side of the cage. There were a couple of small boxes set in each cage, and Robin could see that they dispensed food and water to the animals at presumably regular intervals. Robin reached down next to the monkeys' cage and started to work loose the small water holder there. He found it slid out of place once he turned the holding bolt. As he drew the little flask upward, one of the monkeys made an effort to nip his finger, but he withdrew it in time. The water flask drawn up into Robin's compartment made him feel better. This would make his stay a little more comfortable for a while. He felt sorry for the monkeys, who might go thirsty now, but he had a suspicion that the two little beasts were probably too hysterically frightened to eat or drink anyway. Robin wet his throat a little. He looked back down, reached out, and investigated the food compartment. Sure enough, there were several bananas in the monkeys' food container. They would do also. He glanced around the space below again. There were the oxygen tanks, set up with a timer, one gently hissing away. There also was a small heating unit with a thermostat that evidently kept the temperature in the animal division at a level--and almost certainly was doing the same for the whole section. Robin grimaced to himself as he worked the padding back into place on the floor. He might manage to be quite comfortable for a while longer--a day or so more. While there's life, there's hope, he said to himself. Better check the parachute question, too, while I'm at it. He reversed himself in a neatly executed weightless somersault and making what had once been his roof the floor, worked the padding out there. But here he was thwarted, for he found the rounded metal side of the section's nose. If there were a parachute, it obviously occupied its own compartment at the very tip of the rocket's nose. He looked out the peephole from his upside-down perch, stared musingly at the panoply of the stars. He wondered if he could recognize a planet should one swing across his narrow field of vision, decided that perhaps he might not be able to do so, so vast were the number of stars present. He looked again at Earth, noticing that it had visibly rotated on its axis. That meant that time had passed, a good deal of it. Mentally he tried to calculate just how much. He was looking at the Eastern Hemisphere now, or a corner of it. At least half a day, or maybe a day and a half, or more. How could he tell how long he had been asleep, how long unconscious? He realized that he was tired, that his body still ached from the painful take-off. He closed his eyes, and without actually wanting to, fell asleep. His sleeping body swung slowly to and fro in the tiny space, bumping gently from one side to the other. As he slept he dreamed of falling, dreamed of falling over huge endless cliffs, of dropping down strange chasms, of being carried by huge birds and suddenly being dropped. His subconscious mind would never give up the insistent awareness that his body was falling. It was a certain thing that such would be the dreams of anyone in space flight. The built-in machinery of self-protection identifies a sense of loss of weight with the automatic warning of a fall. Ten thousand thousand generations of climb from primeval arboreal ancestry found the warning valid--no conscious knowledge otherwise would ever shut off this instinctive alarm. He awoke again with a start and a convulsive grasp for a tree branch. But he shook off the sensation and rubbed his eyes. He took another sip from the water flask, reached into the compartment below and took one of the bananas. The monkeys were still in each other's arms, but now asleep. The rabbits were nosing the corners of their cage as if everything were perfectly normal. He looked through his peephole and saw the Moon. It was large, it was vast, it took up most of the view in his range. It looked as close as the Earth had looked before. He looked upon the stupendous moonscape with awe. It was the vision one strains to see through a telescope. He had often paid a dime to look at it through the six-inch telescope at the City Science Museum. This was the same vision, but bigger and clearer, so very, very clear. He could see only a small section of the Moon, but that was impressive. A particularly rugged area of jagged mountains, huge craters, high walled and wide bottomed, with long rills and ridges running across the surfaces. It shone white under the sun, with immensely black shadows breaking it where the sun failed to penetrate. Yet there were more than whites and grays and blacks here. He saw that without the atmosphere of Earth there were other more delicate shadings. The sides of some mountains had bluish and greenish tinges, and more than one crater bottom showed a distinct faint tinge of pale green, or in other spots yellowish blotches. And in one small spot he distinctly saw a mistiness of the surface, saw that a faint fuzziness barred the clear sight of the crater bottom. He stared with wonder at the sight and the Moon slowly turned out of his vision as the rocket turned. He looked away, deep in thought. He had read enough about the Moon in his astronomical readings. He knew the various theories, the latest conjectures. He knew that mistiness, that evidences of clouding had been seen often by astronomers, but the sight was nevertheless rare. No two astronomers ever happened to be looking at the same place at the same time. It was always one man's word, and it was never possible to predict such a thing, nor to photograph it. He knew that those men who made a special study of the Moon recognized these things and had come to accept them as evidence that what was once regarded as a dead world was not entirely dead. They had charted these color shifts in certain spots, one or two areas could be predicted well enough to occasionally be provable to others. Pickering had seen many such color changes, had even attributed it to some sort of fast-growing vegetation. Robin remembered that it was now largely believed that the Moon had not quite ceased its volcanic internal action. He recalled that astronomers had begun to admit that the evidence of these bits of mist and the further evidence of actual mapped changes in the Lunar topography had proved that something was still warm and boiling within the crust of Old Luna. Then it occurred to Robin that if the Moon were that close to him, he might really be falling upon it! He peered out, saw again a section of Luna in view. It was close. Evidently the nose of the rocket had indeed been propelled far beyond Earth's atmosphere, beyond its gravitational grip. If the Moon had been elsewhere, perhaps the rocket nose would have swung about and eventually returned to fall upon the Earth, as Robin had originally surmised. But by chance his orbit, that of the rocket nose in free space, had cut too close to the body of the Moon. The rocket was dangerously near to being seized in the grip of the Moon's gravity and pulled down to it. Robin mulled this thought over and realized that it was possibly the truth. He glued his eye to the peephole and tried to determine where he was. After a while, he saw that the Moon was gradually increasing in size. The rocket nose was definitely approaching the Lunar sphere. Because the Earth no longer swung into view, Robin also realized that the rocket nose must have reversed itself, must be heading moonward, must be falling to the Moon! It would fall faster and faster now, as its trip through space was ending. It was held in the grip of a new world and would speed to its final destruction like a meteoric bullet. It would be another meteor blasting into the surface to flash instantly into powder! _6. Target: Luna_ Now that Robin recognized the certainty that he would never return, that he was a doomed man, a curious sort of change came over him. Up to this time, he had been carefully suppressing his inner thoughts, comforting himself with the hope that the trip would somehow end up safely. Yet while his mind was dwelling on that thought to the exclusion of others, his nerves had been under tension. He had felt himself continually on the edge of breakdown, in proximity to screaming. But Robin had been trained well. His life had never been a particularly easy one and the crying had almost certainly got out of his system during the days when as a little boy he had wandered through a war-torn land hungry and homeless. Life in an orphanage, at best, lacks much of the careful comforts of parents' hands, and those who had come out of such upbringing learn strong self-control early, learn to hold their jumping nerves in check at moments of tension and crisis. Now that the conscious realization that a crash into the Moon was inevitable had forced itself into acceptance, Robin felt a slipping away of this tension. The die had been cast, the doubt had been removed. He actually felt an easing of his mind, felt himself able to take cooler estimate of his situation. He curled himself up in his narrow, closetlike space as comfortably as possible and thought the matter over. He was hungry again and still thirsty and this time he ate the second candy bar without saving any. At the rate of speed he was traveling, it could not be many hours more before he flashed to a sudden, fiery, meteoric death. He turned that thought over in his mind, while he drank some more water. A meteoric end, he thought, to flash like a blazing firebolt, to crash with the violence of an explosion against the dry, dusty surface of the Moon. It might have been spectacular to observe, but he would never know. He wondered if it would be seen from the Earth. Suddenly, like an automatic switch being thrown on an electronic relay, a memory shot into his thoughts. He was well-read in astronomy, particularly on the subject of the Moon, and the thought that struck him was this: _Astronomers did not see meteors crash into the Moon!_ They just didn't! And Moon observation under powerful telescopes was most exact; if even fair-sized meteors hit the Moon with the same explosive impact that they hit Earth, they would be seen beyond question. Further, since the Moon was a companion of the Earth, and our home planet was bombarded with countless meteors daily, the Moon must be a target of a like number. Of course, the meteors that hit Earth were almost entirely burned up by atmospheric friction long before reaching the surface. But the Moon apparently had no atmosphere ... there should have been nothing to prevent them from constantly battering the face of the Moon in a continuous, heavy rain of iron and rock. Lunar meteors should be visible all the time. But they were not! So ... what would really happen when his rocket hit the Moon? Robin was tingling with strange excitement. Facing death as he was, he knew that even at the moment of dying he would be rewarded with at least one secret of the universe now unknown to men. What was the secret? He wracked his brain trying to bring back to memory all that he had read on that problem. And he brought back the memory that during the past few years a growing number of astronomers had begun to believe that the Moon was not entirely without an atmosphere. It wasn't believed to have much of one, but it had been pointed out that most meteors to hit Earth burn up at least thirty miles high. And the atmosphere at that height on Earth was very, very thin. So thin indeed that if the Moon had a belt of air only that dense, it might not be particularly detectable from Earth, might not make much difference from the surface--it was almost a vacuum so far as living matter would be concerned--but it would suffice to burn up meteors! So it seemed likely that his rocket nose would be heated to incandescence by the tenuous Lunar atmosphere and burn to ash long before it touched the surface.... It wasn't a comforting thought--he rather preferred the original conception of crashing. Robin smiled grimly to himself. A dismal prospect, indeed. He had somehow cherished the hope that at least some wreckage of his rocket would be scattered about the surface, to be discovered some day by the explorers of the future, perhaps hundreds of years later. They would speculate upon it, perhaps trace it and in that way know that one Robin Carew had, in death, been the first to reach the Moon. But to burn up on high, even that faint honor would be denied him! He looked again through the peephole. The Moon was close now, very close. He looked down upon a heaving and fearful view--a vast sea of glistening white, with streaks and patches of gray, and here and there great gaping clefts of black. Huge ringed craters, their saw-toothed mountain walls soaring into the sky--and craters upon craters, big ones and little ones, broken ones, craters breaking into the boundaries of others, little ones dotting the bottom of big ones, cracks and clefts shooting from their bases; a ring of jagged mountains running across the moonscape; areas of apparently flat plains. The sun was directly overhead, for it was still full moon and the glare was great, the shadows that mark the setting or rising of a Lunar day not too obvious, stunted patches of jet blackness. But the Moon was not entirely whites and grays, for indeed it was gently tinted in spots with other colorations. He could see for himself that there were greenish tints in some flat spots, yellowish and purpling areas. And yes, there was even in one tiny patch in a crater floor a faint cloudy mass, a mere haziness that indicated some sort of gaseous mist. Robin drank in the scene, the view of another world, that world which has dazzled the dreamers of Earth for thousands of years. These might be his last moments, but he could not be denied the saturation of his senses. The rocket was fast heading down toward a point near the center. The Moon was spreading out, filling the view, and the rocket's slow rotation no longer brought anything into view but moonscape, a constant shifting view, with wonders upon wonders moving into his eye's scope. Robin drew back a moment, rubbed his arms, scratched his legs. He felt himself tingling, wondered if it were his nerves. He felt itchy, hoped his nerves would not give way. He thought to himself, I may have only minutes now. I shall watch till the end. Then he heard a faint, faint noise. From somewhere there was a humming. The merest shadow of a hum, and Robin listened to it, startled. The humming rose in pitch, it was no dream, and as he sat, mouth open, amazed, there was a thin, high-pitched screaming outside the rocket and he suddenly began to feel hot. Robin had but a second in which to think to himself, There's an atmosphere and we're burning up, when there came a new sound. A sort of _bloop_ from over his head, a snapping noise, and something seemed to grab the rocket and jerk it upside down violently. Robin was tossed in a sharp somersault, banging against the original floor of his compartment in a jumble of arms and legs. He sat up and realized that he was sitting--not floating--but actually sitting _against gravity's pull_! He scrambled onto his knees, peeped through his peephole. The sky was back in view, the Moon was below the falling ship and he could see the edge of a huge, circular orange mass above him, straining and pulling. It was the parachute from the nose of the rocket. It was the orange parachute designed to land the instrument nose and the test animals safely in the New Mexico desert. And it had been set to open automatically upon the pressure of air when falling. There was an atmosphere around the Moon then ... a thin, thin one, but the delicate detonator of the chute had functioned. The great hemispheric mass of delicate nylon had opened, had found a purchase, and was dragging the rocket back from a disastrous burn-out. Robin breathed a sigh of relief, strained his eyes to see the moonscape again. The rocket was still falling, mighty fast it seemed. He could see the moonscape rise out, expand to fill the view. The rocket was warm now, definitely still heating from the thin friction. It vibrated and whistled but it swung in no breeze. It was moving too fast. In that almost unnoticeable belt of tenuous air there would be no winds that could deflect it. The parachute was open, but the air was not thick enough to do more than slow it down too gradually for it to be saved. It would, he realized, still crash into the surface with a deadly force. It would hit like a shell from a cannon, and the explorers of the far future would have their mysterious fragments of tooled metal to speculate on. Below him Robin saw the jagged mountain peaks reaching up for him into the dark black sky. He scanned it, remembering his Moon books, remembering the cold photos taken by distant Terrestrial cameras and the careful diagrams and names given by men long dead. He was hitting near the center of the Moon, a little above it, and the crater whose walls were reaching up ... why he could even name it. He grinned wryly. It would be Theophilus, and it seemed he would miss it, hit somewhere near it in a bay of the so-called Sea of Tranquillity. Rushing up toward him, Theophilus was no peaceful Greek ancient. It was a barren, toothed, rocky edge, miles up, without the snow that makes our mountains majestic, without a trace of the forests that conceal a mountain's jagged sides, without even the gentle weathering of rain and water. And the Sea of Tranquillity--a dark, wrinkled plain that looked as if it had gone through the agonies of torture ages past. The marks of almost-vanished volcanoes on it, pale circular rings like pocks of burst bubbles, rambling ridges, and ugly cracks, and here and there domes rising gray out of the surface, like the tops of giant bubbles working their way out of the dry and flaky crust. Robin watched in dread fascination. He heard the whistling and shrieking of the rocket like a demon in torment. He himself was burning and itching as he was being baked, although he felt no fever. The rocket was warm but getting no warmer. The topmost peak of Theophilus was rushing up into his sky like a fast-growing stone geyser. He watched it shoot up, saw it grow, saw the ground become clearer and clearer, each ghastly detail spreading out, assuming three-dimension reality. Now the peak was on a level with his eyes, now it was beyond him, and he was in the last few seconds of his fall. The rocket seemed to be slowing slightly. The atmosphere was possibly getting a trifle thicker at the surface, enough to prolong the agony a minute or two or three longer. Above him the parachute strained and twisted. But still the rocket was falling too fast. It rushed down, straining to complete its act of affinity with a new gravity, as if tired of its brief period of interplanetary freedom, and anxious to pledge allegiance to a new gravitational master. Below, the moonscape was coming up fast. Robin could see well enough to begin to speculate where exactly he would hit. There was a small circle that must have been a crater scar. There were several dark lines that might be a network of cracks. And there was a dome. He remembered those domes. They had been quite a recent discovery too. Not easily seen until latter-day instruments showed the surface of the Moon dotted with these odd bumps. Their nature was still a mystery. It looked as if Robin would find out the hard way what their construction was. For now he was clearly heading directly for the center of the one below him. A bubble-top pushing out from the plain, hard and shiny like lava, glistening in the sun against the gray and dusty surface of the plain around it. Theophilus's wall was already on the horizon, high and towering. And now Robin realized how terribly fast the rocket was still falling. The mountain was a measuring stick and it was fearful. There was a moment of dreadful suspense as the rocket raced to a bull's eye on the upthrust center of the dome. The rounded surface rushed up. Robin flattened himself against the padding, clutched his head in his hands, and stiffened himself. The rocket hummed against the thin air, it vibrated against the parachute, there was a terrible split second of shock when the bullet-shaped structure of the rocket's cargo nose made its contact with its Lunar target, and then a clap of sound in Robin's ear like a blockbuster going off. _7. The Honeycomb Place_ Robin had no time to wonder why he had not been instantly killed by the crash, because the explosion on hitting the surface of the dome was followed instantly by a tremendous roaring sound that surrounded the entire rocket nose. This was in turn accompanied by a powerful pressure on the rocket, which threw Robin against the nose-end cushioning and held him there. The pressure was not steady, changing as the roaring itself changed, with sudden bursts of sound, convulsive shoves, and changes in pitch. The rocket was being slowed by a terrific outward burst of gases, gases that must have been imprisoned in a huge volcanic bubble whose outermost surface was the dome, so mysterious to Terrestrial observers. By bursting through the thin lava shell, Robin's rocket had released these pent-up gases and was boring its way down on its still rapid momentum against the pressure of this column of gas. Robin did not know this at the time, though he figured it out later. At the time, he had all he could do to keep himself from being battered black-and-blue by the jolting rocket. He kept his head clutched tightly in his arms, rode with the bumps and roars, and tried to keep his breath from being knocked out of his lungs. There was another violent shock and crack and again the rocket bounced to a new flow of gases. It had slammed through one huge bubble, breaking through the bottom shell only to burst into a lower pocket of gas. The roaring subsided to a lower pitch as the new gases did not find the near-vacuum of the surface that the first gas bubble had opened upon. The rocket fell steadily, bursting through a third, and then a fourth such bubble. It was clear that the surface of the Moon, at least in that area, was a mass of congealed gas pockets, a honeycomb of thin-walled lava bubbles, perhaps quite deep. The rocket was almost entirely devoid of its original space momentum by the time it hit the bottom of the last bubble, snapped the thin crust, and fell through it. This time there was a sudden hissing around the battered nose and a warmth began to flow through the body of the rocket. It was enveloped in a belt of hot steam through which it fell several hundred feet and then hit something with a loud splashing noise. The sound vanished as the rocket sank deep into the new substance, came to a halt, and bobbed back upward. Robin had gotten hold of himself after the third bubble and was hanging on, mentally trying to estimate what had happened. This last sound had been familiar. It must have been water, and the bobbing back of the rocket to the surface confirmed his views. He felt the rocket bounce a couple of times and then subside to a gentle rocking and rolling. Robin held on for a moment, getting his balance. In some ways the new motion was more disturbing than all that had gone before--the cylindrical body of the rocket, with its blunt end and its rounded nose, was twisting and turning as only can be done by a bottle tossed in a flowing stream. Robin tried to get hold of himself, orient himself to the odd seasick motion, then managed to work his way to the peephole. He could see nothing. Whatever was outside was without light. But it sounded like water lapping against the sides, it felt like water's forces, and the rocket seemed definitely to be afloat. Robin used his flashlight, tried to direct its beam through the tiny camera outlet. After a little manipulation he succeeded in getting some reflection from outside. It was water, and the rocket seemed to be floating rapidly along on some sort of dark subterraneous tide. Robin sat back, puzzled. Water--under the Moon? He held on, still feeling a little dizzy, feeling dirty and itchy, but suddenly beneath it all a little thrilled and pleased. He had survived the crash by some miracle--he was on the Moon and alive! What next? Next was quick to come. There was a sudden dip in the current and the rocket tilted forward as it shot down a spillway, down a violent decline on a raging torrent, sliding down an unseen waterfall for a surprisingly long time, leveling out at a fast clip, sliding down new tunnels through which the water raced, hitting the side of sharp turns with occasional glancing blows, down more dips and falls, spinning violently around in unseen whirlpools, and finally racing out on a fast stream to gradually slow down and finally come to rest, gently bobbing. Robin had been knocked around during this breathless ride and only gradually did he realize it was over. Warily he raised his head from where he was sprawled in his tiny closet-compartment and waited. But the gentle bobbing continued. He put his eye to the peephole and looked. There was a glow outside, a grayish, pale glow, but he could see that the nose of the rocket was somehow grounded on something dry while the tail was still in the water rocking to the current. He considered his next course of action for a few seconds. It seemed as if he had a chance to escape from his vehicle at last. But escape to what? Was there air outside, wherever it was that he found himself? If there were air, was it enough to sustain him? Might it not be poisonous or utterly lacking in oxygen? Well, Robin thought to himself, there isn't really any choice. If I stay here, I'll starve to death or suffocate. If I go out, I may die even sooner. But now or later, if it has to be, it won't make any difference. Whatever the odds in favor of my being able to breathe here, I've got to take them. He twisted around, found the circular port through which he had originally entered the rocket. He worked at it with his fingers, realizing that it might be quite difficult to open. He worked away the padding that lined the interior, found that it had an arrangement that had automatically sealed it when closed. There was no handle on the inside, for it had never been planned to be opened from that side. However, there were several screws over a small plate, and Robin set to work to unscrew them. He had a Boy Scout knife in his pants pocket--the kind with several blades--and with the back of the biggest blade he worked out the screws. The panel off, he saw how the sealed gimbals worked, clicked them open and pushed open the door. It held tight for a moment, then popped open. There was a sudden drop in the pressure, Robin's ears popped, and he gasped for breath. The air outside was lower in pressure than that inside the cargo nose of the rocket, which had been sealed at Earth level. But it was air and it was breathable. Robin drew in several deep lungfuls, savoring it. It was oddly exhilarating, as if highly charged with oxygen. At the same time there was a smell of mold and dampness and a definite taste of sulfur and phosphorus like that just after a kitchen match has been lighted. Even so, the air was breathable. Robin worked his head and shoulders through the narrow opening, slid forward and landed on hands and knees on the rocky surface. He got to his feet, looked around. He was standing on the bank of a rushing stream of water, which was pouring out of a large gap in the side of a cliff. The cliff ran straight up, gently curving to form part of the ceiling several hundred feet overhead. The extent of this ceiling was impossible to determine--it was dark and obscure--but it seemed to Robin almost at once that he was in some sort of gigantic enclosed space--a vast cavern beneath the surface of the Moon, probably several miles beneath it. The water coming from the underground falls rushed out to form a wide, shallow river which flowed along one side of the cavern and widened out to a few hundred feet clear across to the farther wall. On Robin's side the floor of the cavern rose in a slow slope until it reached its wall perhaps three hundred feet away. Robin could not estimate the length of the cavern. Looking along the river bank, the cave seemed to become veiled in a general mistiness and gathering darkness. The light itself came from no definite source, but seemed to emanate from the rocky walls and ceiling, from the clayey ground, and from the general atmosphere. Robin supposed that the source was a natural phosphorescence which he knew was not too uncommon even in Terrestrial caverns. All around on the soil bordering the flowing water was a forest, a forest with the weirdest vegetation Robin had ever seen. Plants growing in clumps and clusters, plants whose large treelike stalks resembled a whitish-blue bamboo, and which burst into globular blue bulbs which seemed to serve as leaves. Among these tree-sized growths was a rich undergrowth of tight balls of varying yellow and green and purple, growing like thick, squat mushrooms. And everywhere else a thick, lush carpet of green, not grasslike but rather like some oversize moss. In this forest there were no sounds of birds or animals, but only that of plants swaying in the river breeze, the rushing of the waters, and from somewhere distant in the unseen end of the cavern a strange, steady hissing sound. The rocket, or what was left of it, lay wedged against a section of the bank, its nose up and its tail swaying in the current. Robin looked at it, amazed to find it so small. All that was left of the rocket was the cargo nose, which was the only part sent off after the last of the rocket sections had discharged their forces and been dropped off. The whole affair was not more than about ten feet long, from the battered, blunted red nose, from which several long, straggling orange cords hung--all that was left of the parachute and its attachments--down to the scraped and battered white cylinder that was the cargo compartment. The compartment ended in a flat plate which bore only a few wires that had once connected it with the break-away mechanism of the last of the atomic blasting chambers. This alone was the load of the eight-story tower of energy which had been the Red Sands experimental rocket. Robin, without further delay, bent down to the cylinder and began to haul and push it entirely out of the water to the dry ground. He knew he could not afford to risk its loss. To his surprise, moving the rocket head was an easy task. It was extremely light and he found himself possessed of tremendous strength, tired and bruised and sore as he was. It was, he thought, as he pulled the rocket along, the Moon and its weak gravity. He would only weigh a sixth of his Earth weight here, so would the cargo head, yet he would have the muscles necessary for much more than that weight. He would literally be a superman here--if he could survive. Survival, he knew, would be the question. He didn't know whether even now he might be inhaling poison from the strange, thin sublunar air. He didn't know what mysterious radioactive rays might be bathing him with their baleful influence. He didn't know whether any of the vegetation in this cavern world would be edible. Having brought the cargo cylinder to a safe spot many feet from the water, Robin looked for the door that would open the animal compartment. He found it, forced it open. Inside were the two cages. Gently he reached in, unscrewed them from their holdings, and lifted them out. One of the monkeys was dead, probably killed by some of the jouncing the rocket had taken. The other, looking miserable, was clinging to the bars chattering. Robin looked at it, and the monkey looked back. The young man unlatched the cage, reached in, and took the little brown animal by the back of the neck. But the monkey made no effort to bite. Instead, it twisted around, grabbed Robin's arm, and hung tight. When his grip was released, the monkey scurried up Robin's arm and clung to his shoulder, recognizing the need for companionship after its frightening experiences. The rabbits had fared slightly better. One of them was dead, but the other three, while somewhat beaten around, were alive and sniffling their pink noses. Robin saw that there was very little food or water left for the animals. Here then was the means to test the Moon's capacity to produce food and drink. First, however, Robin decided he would build a pen for the rabbits. If he were lucky, he could breed them and have at least one source of food suited to his system. He went over to the nearest clump of ball-trees, looked them over, tested his strength on them. They broke easily and quickly when he grasped one by the trunk and pulled. He found that it could be splintered into shreds fairly rapidly and that inside the shell of the stalk was a mass of cottony matter. He shredded a number of the stalks, and then staked them out in the ground to make a small fenced pen, tying the whole together with one of the long cords hanging from the parachute nose. Into this makeshift pen, he released the three rabbits. He filled the cup from their cage with water from the river, placed it in the pen. The rabbits hopped over, sniffed, and drank. They seemed to suffer no ill effects. Robin broke open one of the ball-like growths from the tree, found it contained a substance resembling a combination of melon and potato. He offered some of this to the rabbits and after an interval they ate it and seemed to like it. The monkey was chattering away as Robin did this and suddenly scampered down and snatched a piece of the ball-food, stuffing it into its mouth. Robin had not wanted to use the little creature for a test but the damage was done. However, the monkey seemed to enjoy it. Robin sat down on the ground and watched. He felt tired, now realized just how tired he was, how sorely he ached from his experience. He felt warm and headachy now that the strain was over. He knew he still had things to do. He wanted to try to make a fire and cook the rabbit that had been killed. He was thirsty as well. He wanted to tie a cord to the monkey so that the animal would not run away into the unknown and possibly dangerous regions of the cavern. He wanted to find a safe place to sleep and hide should there be some sort of animal life around. But he was growing terribly sleepy and feeling quite sick. He curled up, and before he could stop himself, he was asleep. The rabbits nibbled on. The monkey sat on a ball in one of the strange trees and watched in silence. Far off, somewhere in the cavern, the mysterious hissing continued. _8. Robinson Crusoe Carew_ When Robin Carew opened his eyes, he knew he was a very sick man. He felt warm, sticky, and he hurt all over. He tried to sit up, but everything spun dizzily around him. His arms, legs, and body were burning intolerably and there was an itch throughout him that he could do nothing about. He lay back, trying to gain strength. A little later he managed to crawl to the water's edge, fill the container he had used in the trip from Earth, drag himself back. For a period whose length he could not determine he lay helpless in fever and pain, arousing himself only long enough to drink to soothe his tortured body. Finally, the fever broke. He sat up, feeling weak but with his mind clear at long last. He dragged himself to his feet, blessing the light gravity, aware that if he were back home his body would not have responded. He felt that he was gaunt, he knew he had been through a terrible siege, and he could only guess at the time he had lain there, tossing about on the strange Lunar ground, unprotected in the queer climate of this unknown cavern. It must, he felt, have been days--Earth days, of course--that his attack had lasted. Later on he decided that he had suffered from a severe case of space burn. Having traveled through the emptiness of the void between the planets, the vessel had been nearly unprotected from the cosmic rays and the more penetrating of the sun's invisible rays. He considered himself lucky to have survived at all. He desperately needed food now to rebuild his body. He looked at the rabbit pen. The little animals were there and evidently prospering on the ball-food he had prepared for them before his sickness. It was almost all gone and he broke open and pared more at once. He wondered how long it would be before the animals bred--he knew that rabbits bred fast and abundantly, and hoped it would hold true on the Moon. There was a sudden chattering in one of the strange trees and he looked up to see a little brown face peering at him. In a moment, the monkey leaped to the ground, then leaped in one tremendous jump to Robin's shoulder and perched there happy at finding companionship again. The monkey looked none the worse for its experience and evidently was getting along nicely on the Lunar vegetation. Thus encouraged, Robin fed himself, first carefully testing everything on the monkey, who objected to nothing. But somehow the food was not entirely satisfying to the man, who felt that he needed more than that to recover his full energy. He looked again at the rabbits, looked also for the carcass of the dead one. But he found that part of it had rotted and part had been consumed. He looked closely and saw his first glimpse of a Lunar counterpart to animal life. There were many tiny creatures, a half inch to an inch in length, looking at first like ants but on closer inspection appearing more like three-segmented worms, for they lacked legs and moved in an inchworm's fashion. Instead of antennae, each little worm-ant had on its front segment a single upstanding stalk ending in a little yellow ball. Robin touched one of these and it glowed momentarily. An organ of light, he thought, something like the ones carried by deep-sea fishes. The tiny things were eating the dead rabbit. Robbin went back and examined the three remaining rabbits. Two were males and the female was evidently heavy with young. Well, he could afford to dispense with one of the males, then, for he knew his body needed meat. He put the rabbit back though, realizing that first he must make a fire and determine how to cook his meal. He searched his pockets. He was wearing the GI jacket he'd taken from the soldier in Las Cruces. As he had hoped, he dug up a pack of matches in one pocket. He turned it over in thought. When this pack was used up, how could he make fire? He piled some trunks of dead tree stalks in a cleared spot; he lit them with one of his matches. They caught fire rapidly and soon he had a nice blaze going. He watched the smoke rise and saw that it drifted rapidly away in the same direction the current was flowing--evidence of more caverns somewhere beyond. He opened his scout knife, hesitated. He'd never cooked a rabbit before. In fact, he'd never had occasion to cook anything for himself. It was meat, he thought, and even if it were eaten raw--well, savages did, so he, too, could manage. He thought about boiling it in water, then realized that the light air pressure might allow water to boil without getting the necessary cooking effects. The best method therefore was to fry it where he could observe the progress. Steeling himself, he seized the rabbit, killed and skinned it, the latter a process which he found thoroughly unpleasant. Cleaning it of its entrails, another unpleasant task, he cut the meat up into sizable chunks, skewered a couple of pieces on a metal rod which had been part of one of the cages from the rocket, and sat down to cook it over the open fire. It turned out to be a longer job than he'd thought, and he burned the meat quite thoroughly in the process, but finally he made it edible and chewed it slowly. He needed salt, he realized, and wondered if he could find any. This would have priority when he began his explorations. He hung the balance of the meat on a ball-tree with a piece of cord. He had seen no evidence of flying insects or creatures, and hoped thereby to be able to preserve the rest of the meat. Thus fed, he sat down and began to map out his course. I must do things systematically, he told himself. I must keep track of time, set up a regular pattern of living, find a permanent base of operations. I shall have to explore this cavern and those beyond it, find all possible enemies and invent ways and means of defending myself. I shall have to breed my rabbits in quantity, find a way of using their pelts and fur. I shall have to determine a use for everything left from the rocket's material--metals and the like. For, he continued telling himself, my one aim shall be to stay alive long enough to be found some day by exploring rockets from Earth. I am a Robinson Crusoe of a new world. Crusoe waited twenty-eight years for rescue, I must be as courageous. In his case, he had no evidence that any ship would ever bother to call on him. In my case I know that rockets are being made that will eventually lead to further Moon trips. I know that men are planning to come here. I must wait it out, even for twenty-eight years. But it was not that simple and he knew it. But first things first, and the first task was to survive. With the monkey scampering on ahead, he set out to walk to the cavern wall. He found it to be dark and glistening, a lavalike sheet resembling the bubble it was. Leaning against it and looking upward, he saw that it curved gradually up, and that indeed he was in a flaw within a very porous world. Like the inside of a Clark candy bar, he thought, with a wry smile. Astronomers on Earth had always been puzzled by the lightness of the Moon. They had speculated on it as being mainly pumice. Lately there had been much speculation and opinion holding forth the theory that the Moon was porous, had these bubbles and air pockets all through it, that the Moon's water and atmosphere had all gone underground to be sealed off in these hollow spaces. He now knew they were right. Most of these Moon bubbles, large enough to hold cities, must be entirely sealed off. But others were linked, sometimes broken into by quakes or the volcanic action which was still going on in the depths of what had once been considered a dead world. This particular cavern was such a bubble. Robin walked along the outer wall and saw a dark black spot in it, and then others. He came to them, found they were breaks in the surface, pocks caused by smaller bubbles. He looked into one that opened at the base. Using his flashlight, he could see that it was a small, almost entirely spherical cave. He found others pocking the walls of the cavern bubble. This then was the ideal spot for a permanent home. Not that he needed shielding from the elements, for obviously there were no elements here--no rain, snow, clouds, or weather oddities. Neither was there night or day. Robin would move his possessions into this cave, simply to have them located and safe. Besides, there might be some larger form of life, some carnivores around--he could not tell. Better to be safe than sorry, he said to himself. He acted at once, carrying the rocket nose and its stuff to the cave, transferring his rabbits and their pen to a spot just outside the cave door. He would need a bowl for water and, using his screwdriver blade, he finally managed to detach the curved rocket nose and found himself in possession of a deep bowl. He took this down to the water, filled it and carried it back to his cave. Already he began to feel cheerier. Nothing like work, he thought, to take your mind off your other problems. Suddenly he realized he was tired. How long had he been at this? He did not know. Now he realized that with no sunrise or sunset visible in his underground world, he could not tell time. He looked at his wrist watch, but it had stopped running, of course. He decided to take a nap; he lay down and fell asleep. When he woke up, he set his watch at eight o'clock, decided to consider this the beginning of a day. He found the notebook he'd carried in his back pocket, opened it, and set up his new calendar. Using the date of the rocket's take-off, he allowed five days as a probable estimate of the time passed since. He had no means of knowing how long he had been ill, he suspected it had been longer, but decided to let it stand. After arriving at the date, he made the time eight in the morning, laid out the times he expected to eat, to work, to sleep. He would try to live according to a full Terrestrial day, checking the passage of time by his watch. He then listed all the things he expected would have to be done, and decided to check them off as he completed them. Next he ate breakfast from the fruit of the ball-tree. He spent the rest of that morning trying to find a means of making fire. He had some bits of steel from the rocket, and he tried to strike sparks on everything that resembled rock. After a search, he found some fragments of rock near the water that gave off a spark. Whether these were flints or not, he did not care, so long as they worked for him. With this discovery he knew he would be free from worry about the problem of matches. His next problem was to secure a weapon. This solved itself rather fast with a bow and arrow. A long, flexible metal tube from the rear connections of the rocket, bent to make a bow when tied with a string of nylon cord, made a satisfactory _twang_ when pulled. He made arrows out of the fibers of the Moontree stalks, and practiced shooting. The next few days followed the same pattern. Robin enlarged his area of exploration, finding several other kinds of Lunar vegetation and a number of other insect-worms. He found several that were quite large, one as large as a squirrel. It was an odd thing, humping itself along in little bounds--a creature of a dozen ball-like segments, two of which had toothed mouths, although only the ball in front had an eye, a lidless orb set in the center of this ball. But the creature was fringed with the light-rod organs as the tiny worm-ants had been. Robin tried to cook part of this creature but the monkey refused to touch it and he found it entirely unpalatable. On the other hand, he found that when he removed the little yellow balls from the top of the light stalks on the creature, they remained glowing--even as do the abdomens of fireflies. He therefore diligently set about catching a number of these Moonrats, as he named them, and making a lantern for himself by filling a glass tube with the glow organs. This worked out quite nicely when he experimented in his dark cave-home, emitting a clear, though pale, yellow light. His rabbit had a nice litter at last, and Robin carefully saw that they were kept well supplied with food and drink. He would eat no more meat until there were several dozen adults, all breeding. But he felt that now he was assured of a source of clothing when his own would give out. He knew that eventually he would have to dress himself entirely in the products of his own ingenuity. His Earth clothes could last no more than a few years. He had already devised for himself an experimental pair of sandals from the rinds of the ball-tree fruit and the stalks of the Moontrees. They would do, and he carefully removed his shoes and put them away. When he had heavy exploring to do, or if and when he might try to reach the surface, he would need his good heavy leather shoes. Until then, the makeshift sandals would do. For he knew that someday he would have to reach the surface. If and when the first astronauts arrived, they would not go below. They would probably never suspect the presence of these unseen areas beneath the crust, possibly not for many dozens of years. It would be on the surface that Robin would have to go to find rescue. That was the greatest problem he would have to solve. Against that terrible trip, he would have to conserve and plan. Meanwhile, he had a toehold on life here, if conditions within his sublunar cavern did not change. But they were changing ... and not for the better. _9. From Stone Age to Iron Age_ When he woke up one morning Robin was vaguely aware of something different. He opened his eyes to the dark interior of his cave-home and lay there on his bed of padding from the cargo chamber. For a while he rested quietly in that pleasant half-sleep of awakening after a good rest. Unconsciously his hand moved down searching for a blanket, but of course there was none. He'd never needed one before. He unconsciously groped again for the blanket, then opened his eyes wide and sat up. There was a slight chill in the air at that! Now he noticed the monkey, asleep, curled up tightly against his leg. That was odd because previously the little fellow had slept outside. What had brought him in? Robin got up and Cheeky, as Robin had named his friend, woke up instantly and leaped to his shoulder. "What's the trouble, fellow?" asked Robin, patting him on the head. Then the young man left the cave and looked around. At first nothing seemed greatly changed. The temperature had dropped a few degrees, no doubt about it. Yet there was no special draft, no break in the bubble walls to account for it. He looked at the plants and then realized that some of them were beginning to change color. A grayness was creeping in subtly. The balls of Moontree fruit, which had been his chief sustenance, were showing signs of wrinkling and had either already shriveled or were beginning to. Robin glanced around sharply, looked into his notebook calendar. He calculated the days that had passed. When his rocket had crashed the Moon had been full. This meant it was high noon of a Lunar day on the surface above. But a Lunar day lasted about a Terrestrial month--twenty-eight days to be exact. When the sun was at its height, the temperature of the surface crust was to be measured as high as 240 degrees Fahrenheit. By sunset it might be down to 160 degrees, but immediately after sunset it would drop with great speed and shortly begin to go as low as a hundred below zero and continue to drop for yet another hundred degrees. And Robin had perhaps been in his sublunar cavern for ten or maybe twelve days. The sun had set above, the Lunar night was there. Though the cavern was insulated by the best sort of insulation in the universe--a honeycomb of several miles between the surface and itself--a honeycomb in many cases consisting of sealed bubbles, some near vacuums--there was bound to be a gradual loss of the stored-up heat from the long Lunar day. It might take a while for this to become noticeable, especially in view of the obviously warm volcanic action from the unseen areas near the core of the Moon below, yet there it was. So now Robin knew that the Lunar day did have a counterpart here, that there would be monthly seasons in his cavern and that he was facing a winter that might last ten days more. He looked around, pondering this. Could he survive? He had probably only a short time to work this out. Obviously he had to work fast and make good. "Come, Cheeky," he said, "no time for foolishness. No daily swim in the river this morning. Harvest time is here." He glanced at his rabbits, but they did not seem to mind the temperature drop. He went into the clumps of Moontrees and began to gather their fruit--the big balls--as fast as possible. They were still plump enough to hold food-pulp. He realized that if he waited, they would probably dry up on their trees, shrivel to seed as the increasing cold drew the moisture from them. He spent that day in gathering a harvest, in piling great masses of the fruit in a small cavern-wall bubble near his sleeping chamber. When he had amassed enough to see him through at least two weeks, he gathered the fallen trunks and dried-up old stalks and piled them in the narrow entrance to this storage cave. He built a fire there, paced it out, and spread it out to burn slowly. He would have to keep this fire going and another like it in front of his own sleeping cavern. He transferred the rabbits to his bubble-home also, rebuilding their pen. As he had expected, the temperature in his hidden world continued its fall. A few days later it was quite chilly and the Moontrees had acted as he surmised. Their fruits had withered quite rapidly, finally dropping off as small hard seeds. The tree stalks dried out, turned hard, and fell. Robin gathered them as fuel for his fires, found that they were quite excellent, and also that the fresh-fallen ones could be woven into basketry. The river continued to flow, but was more sluggish, and its waters began to grow cold. On the other hand, the Moonworms and other little creatures seemed to be having their heyday. They were out in quantities greater than he had ever seen and were busily gathering the fallen seeds, carrying them away, evidently preferring them to the fruit. Robin made himself a jacket from an extra part of the padding, stitching it together with cord and thongs made from shell fibers. With a fire going at the door of his cave, he found he still wouldn't need blankets. During the balance of the Lunar night Robin was forced to remain close to his caves, tending his fires, conserving all his energies. Outside, the temperature never actually reached freezing, or at least not that Robin could estimate. But at its worst, it was definitely chilly and the river fairly cold. The view within the cavern cleared somewhat of its usual mugginess and he could see much more. He could now make out the walls on all sides, and discovered that the farthest distance, in the direction in which the river ran, was perhaps several miles off. The vegetation had mainly flattened, was drying up, and he could see everywhere the little ball-segmented insects humping and squirming about. He saw a number of varieties he had not noticed before. One day venturing out with his bow and arrow, he disturbed something working amid a pile of broken stalks. The thing rushed out, directly at him. It was large, as large as a dog, and it ran straight for him silently, its wide mouth gaping. He shot it, saw it fall over as it was about to leap at him. When he dug his arrow out, he saw that it was no wormlike insect, no segmented creature. It was a recognizable animal, a creature with two short stubby feet, two small extensions that were like hands on each side of an oval body. A definite head surmounted this, with one eerie eye set in the middle over its wide mouth. Two little breathing holes in the side attested to its possession of lungs. A long, curving rod grew out of the top of its skull and held a large yellow light-ball over it. There was yet another peculiarity about this Moonhound, as Robin called it. It had no definite color. Its skin was faintly transparent, and he could see its inner organs shadowy within. All this reminded Robin that there must be vast cavern worlds totally without light, yet having flora and fauna. When there is no light, there is no need for pigmentation. Hence, this creature had none. Robin also surmised that it was probably the cold that drove this beast into the lighted cavern in search of food, for he had never seen evidence of anything that large during the warm period. Robin brought the carcass back to his cave and went to work to skin and cook it. At first he was not going to, for the hairless, colorless nature of it was rather repellent. But one thing Robin had learned long ago was not to let his emotions dictate to his needs. Like it or not, he was going to make use of everything here he could. He had a task, and that was to survive. As a matter of fact, the meat cooked very nicely, turned brown in the fire, and tasted good. Further, it had a bone structure, which the Moonworms hadn't, and Robin saved these bones, knowing that there were many things that they could be used for. He remembered museum exhibits of bone needles, bone knives, and bone implements, including arrowheads and buttons that the Indians had made use of. After that, Robin deliberately hunted for these Moonhounds and caught several others before the winter was over. The warmth returned about when Robin had figured, starting a day or so after the surface sunrise. It rose rapidly, faster than it had fallen, and just as fast, new Moontrees were shooting up, new Moonmushrooms were growing, and the river was becoming warmer. As time went on and month followed month, Robin found himself working into a comfortable, if primitive, routine. He charted exactly what to do on what days. He could tell in advance what he would be eating, what he would be harvesting. His rabbits had become sufficient in number to permit slaughtering, and he began to acquire a pile of rabbit furs. He found it no longer possible to keep all his rabbits in one pen, and finally liberated the majority of them and left them to shift for themselves. This worked out fine, and he never lacked the sight of at least one or two bunnies anywhere he looked. During the two weeks of winter each month they simply holed up as they might have done on Earth. It was an odd sight seeing the rabbits run wild, for their powerful leg muscles were many times stronger than was required by the weak gravity and, when they ran in a hurry, they would bounce many feet high in fantastic leaps. Robin was now wearing a rabbit-fur outfit of coat, pants, and hat during the winter periods, equipped with bone buttons he'd carved from the Moonhound skeletons. He was, if anything, beginning to gain weight, but he was also aware of the paleness of his skin. He wondered whether staying in this sunless world a sufficient number of years would not make him as palely transparent as the Moonhounds. But all this time Robin had not forgotten his ultimate mission--to reach the surface and signal for help. He had worked out the problem in his own mind. He had to make some sort of space suit, something that would permit him to venture out on the nearly airless surface long enough to set up a signal that astronomers might see. He knew he had the materials for part of this suit in the metal salvaged from the rocket nose. He could polish a section sufficiently to make a heliograph with which he could flash a code message to any high-powered telescope that might be pointed his way. But he had also to fashion the metal into an airtight space helmet, and that he did not know how to do. The suit itself he could probably fashion from cloth and tanned skins, sew and seal it tight enough with animal fats and bone glue to be airtight for a short period, but he needed the helmet. He had the glass for it too, the little peepholes for the camera outlets and a large circular plate that had been set in the very base of the cargo nose and evidently intended for a wide-vision camera shot of the Earth. This plate would be his face plate. Robin was aware of the hissing noise that he had first noticed on his arrival, but he had never investigated it. It was far off, somewhere along the wall of the cavern. One work period, when he found himself ahead of schedule, he set out to find the source of the noise. Following the wall, with Cheeky running ahead chattering, the hiss gradually grew in volume. Robin made his way over a sharp cleft, skirted a large bubble-cave in the wall, and after about two miles of walking, came upon the source. Issuing from a break in the outer cavern wall was a stream of blue flame. For several hundred feet around it no vegetation grew, the ground being covered with thin gray ash. Robin looked at the loudly hissing lance of blue fire. It probably was a breakthrough from some adjoining bubble, one filled with a gas of some inflammable sort. Somehow in the course of the breakthrough, this leakage had been set aflame. And there it was now, a burning gas jet, sharp and hot. At that moment, Robin knew he had the answer to his metalworking problem. He'd tried to melt the metal of the rocket over his fires but he had been totally unsuccessful. But this jet, this hot blue flame, this surely would do the trick! For him the space helmet was now a certainty. It might take time, but now it could be done. That and more was possible, for he had enough metal to make a few necessities like a decent frying pan and a pot to use for boiling and perhaps a water container for a really long exploration trip. That was the end of Robin's first "Stone Age" period and the beginning of his "Iron Age." _10. The Incredible Footprints_ Using the gas jet proved to be considerably more difficult than might have been supposed. It was hard to approach too closely to the thing without running the danger of getting scorched. Also, to hold metal in it long enough to allow it to melt or become pliable it was necessary to find a way of holding the object without getting burned. Robin did get several blisters before he finally worked out a system. Making himself a pair of thick rabbit-skin gloves lined with a thin coating of the ash from the area around the flame proved to be part of the solution. A pair of bone pliers proved to be another part, though the necessity of replacing these was continuous. Working patiently then, Robin managed to cut and work some of the sheets of metal from the rocket nose. He made himself a hammer of hard stone with which to pound some shape into his pieces and finally had fashioned for himself a serviceable, though crude, frying pan and other implements he needed. His next project was to be the space helmet, the first essential part of any space suit. He considered this a long time, planning just how to make it. He had a good sheet of metal for the job, but he didn't want to make any errors in working it, and he wanted to have as few seams as possible. Welding had thus far proved a task he had not mastered. He considered making the joints airtight by means of some sort of vegetable- or animal-fat product. Robin sat in his cave watching the rebirth of life in the bubble-world after one of the winter half-months and thinking. He watched his monkey, Cheeky, turning over rocks for Moonworms--although the little brown pet had never been able to eat them, he seemed to enjoy the hunting of these odd creatures. He watched the rabbits bounding around, listened to those he kept penned up in the next cave. "What am I waiting for?" he asked himself, half aloud. The monkey stopped at the sound of his voice, looked at him. Robin had developed the habit of talking to himself. He was aware of the danger that years of this hermit's life might well cause him to forget how to talk, and he did not want that. "I can't use a space suit until I can find a way to the surface--a safe way. And I've never even really explored this cavern itself. Maybe there's a simpler way of communication with the surface." He sat and thought. The monkey dashed over to him, jumped on his knee, chattering. "I really ought to get about exploring this place," Robin went on. "You know, Cheeky, there might be some more things we can use. What do you say, shall we spend this next week playing Columbus, looking for more bubble worlds to conquer?" The monkey chattered happily, jumped off his knee, and ran around. "Guess you like the idea," said Robin. "Let's get about it, then." He got up and made his preparations. He filled a sack with enough food for several days. He took his homemade canteen, made from a hollowed-out Moontree fruit rind, filled it with water and hung it around his neck. He took his flashlight and knife, his bow and arrow, and his lantern of light organs. He had discovered that the little light-giving bulbs the animals carried would glow for about two days after their removal, and therefore he constantly kept this lantern refilled with his latest catches. He looked to see whether his special lot of penned rabbits had enough food and water for the period and then, whistling to Cheeky, Robin set out. He went down to the bank of the flowing stream on which he had been originally carried and then set out to follow this rivulet its length into the distances of the bubble-world. He followed the flowing stream for about twelve miles. The bubble widened out and the water, which had originally brushed the other side of the cavern where Robin had lived, had now narrowed as a bank of dry ground formed on the opposite side. Robin found himself walking through an ever deepening thicket of growing Moontrees which went on for many miles. The stream twisted and moved off at right angles finally rushing into a deep pool. Robin went over and gazed into it. Plainly the pool had some sort of underground opening, for the water was swirling around with no visible surface outlet. So this was where the stream ran to! Doubtless it emptied into another bubble somewhere below, probably to fall like a waterfall into that space, there to become another stream and empty still again farther down until it ended in some vast reservoir of sublunar seas. But Robin was not interested in going farther down, he sought a way upward toward the surface, toward the sight of Earth. He turned away from the whirlpool, walked boundingly on to the farther wall of his home-bubble. He reached it in time for his sleep period. It seemed as solid and impregnable as the wall around his home region. Robin and Cheeky slept next to the wall and after their sleep resumed their search. Robin walked along the wall, looking again for some break. He saw in the distance a jagged line of black against the shining brown-gray of the cliff. When he reached it, it was a crack, a break in the surface of the bubble, reaching up several hundred feet. He came up to it. It was wide, about ten feet wide, and dark. Robin shone his flashlight in, but as far as its rays could reach it was a dark tunnel. "Maybe this is what we're looking for," Robin said to Cheeky. "It seems to slant slightly upward. Maybe it will take us to the next bubble." Cheeky peered in, walked in slowly and out of sight. "Hey," called Robin, "wait for me!" He followed the scampering monkey. Now his lantern proved handy. The glow it shed could barely be noticed in the light of the great bubble, but here in the darkness of the cleft, the pale glow was distinct and definitely illuminated the ground a few feet in front of him. On he walked, holding the lantern ahead of him, watching Cheeky's long tail flick in and out of its circle of dim light, as the monkey would dash ahead and dash back. Soon Robin found himself walking in almost total darkness, save for the limited glow of his lantern. The floor of the cleft occasionally slanted sharply, sometimes breaking steeply downward, sometimes necessitating jumps upward into the darkness. In the Moon's light gravity, Robin was a fantastic jumper, but the darkness made the problem very disconcerting. It was a strange thing to have to leap upward into a black void in hopes that what seemed like a wall in front of you would turn out to have a top and be but a giant step upward. He soared in the darkness, not knowing how near or how far the roof of the tunnel was, feeling strangely disembodied, the monkey clinging to his neck in transit. He missed several such jumps, managed to avoid being bruised severely only by the feathery softness with which he fell afterward. When the going was straight, Cheeky would leap down and go ahead. Suddenly he heard a screeching from the monkey. He stopped, flashed his flashlight. The monkey was clutching the edge of a deep break, a pit cut sharply across the floor of the tunnel. Robin quickly reached the spot, scooped up Cheeky. His flashlight revealed the other side of the pit several yards away. Turning its rays downward, he could see no bottom to this crack within the tunnel. He shuddered, thinking what might have happened had he gone into it. Then, gathering Cheeky, Robin leaped. He soared lightly across the abyss and landed safely on the other side. He went on, slowly, carefully. A spot of light appeared before him. He stared at it and continued moving forward. The light widened, became the end of the tunnel, became the entrance to something new. He hastened on and burst at last into a new cavern-world, the world of the next bubble. It looked much like his old one, but it was definitely smaller. The rounded ceiling could be made out quite clearly and he estimated its diameter as not more than a half mile. The far side of the bubble could be seen clearly and this one, he noticed, even from where he stood, had many such clefts and cracks in the wall. It was, he supposed, either an older bubble, more cracked in the course of eons of moonquakes and heat changes, or else it was more tightly knitted in a close mass of such bubbles. A thick jungle of giant Moontrees was growing here, stalklike plants resembling those he knew, but seemingly larger and more profuse. Robin started to walk through it toward the farther wall of the bubble. Cheeky had leaped into the stalks and was swinging through them ahead of him, when suddenly the monkey uttered a terrified shriek and there arose a strange high-pitched barking sound. Robin pushed through and saw the monkey, high in the top of a Moontree and a strange sort of Moonhound leaping for him. This kind of Moonhound was considerably bigger than the ones he had seen in his original bubble. It was uttering the eager bark of a hungry beast sighting its prey. Robin unlimbered his bow and fitting an arrow into it, let fly. The sharp missile skewered the Moonbeast and the animal twisted in mid-air and fell thrashing to the ground. Robin dashed in and finished it off with a blow from the stone club he carried. Cheeky came down from the tree cautiously, advanced to the dead animal, and prodded it. Then the monkey uttered a shriek, bared its teeth, and began to pommel the dead body as if he had been the one to bring it down. Robin examined the animal. It was similar in many ways to the Moonhounds, yet different, and Robin's private theory that the Moonhound represented the equivalent of a mammal type seemed verified. Whereas the Moonhound was a wolf or dog, this creature corresponded more closely to a leopard or tiger. The flesh of this creature seemed as if it might possibly make a substitute for leather--although it, too, was eerily transparent and it, too, possessed but one central eye and a large light organ. Robin trekked on through this jungle until at last he reached the opposite wall. He was aware as he walked that there was a good deal of native life here, much more than had been evident in his own cavern. Evidently the first bubble was pretty much cut off from the general labyrinth of sublunar caverns. For as Robin walked, he caught glimpses of other Moonbeasts, slipping in and out, sometimes surprised and scurrying away. Moonworms, the equivalent of Earth's insect life, were here in plenty too, and there were many giant growths which were different from those in his own cave, and some fruits of considerable promise were growing on them. "We could do some farming now," said Robin to Cheeky. "I'll bring back some of the seeds from these bigger trees and plant them back home. It'll give us some variety." The monkey merely chattered and pushed on ahead. At the farther wall, the original observation of many cracks was confirmed. The wall was broken like an eggshell and Robin could see that dozens of tunnels went out, probably leading to several other bubbles. He decided that the following day he would look for the ones that seemed to lead upward. But it was the time for sleep again. He found a little cave, similar to the ones in which he had made his home, and there he and Cheeky ate their meal, cooking some of the meat from the Moontiger over a small open fire. The meat looked strange in its almost glassy appearance, yet it browned and tasted very good. A thin stream of water meandered out of one of the cracks and from this Robin drank and refilled his canteen. He and the monkey curled up, now fed and contented, and went to sleep. Robin awoke suddenly. He opened his eyes, puzzled. The monkey was screeching somewhere. He sat up, called, "Cheeky!" The little creature dashed back to him. It had been outside the cave and it was excited. It was chattering and complaining as never before. The monkey jumped up and down in a perfect ecstasy of fury. Robin looked at it in wonder. He'd never seen Cheeky so excited. He sat up, looked around. At first he saw nothing unusual. Outside the cave all was quiet. Then he noticed that his food pack had been moved. It had been dragged outside the cave, and its contents pulled out. Robin got to his feet, went to it. Something had come into the cave silently, had taken the sack, and had examined its contents. He looked about, amazed and wondering. Now he saw that other things had been touched. His canteen had been rolled over and the stopper unplugged. The water that had been inside was a little puddle on the cave floor. Alarmed, Robin strung his bow, notched an arrow, and looked carefully around at the surrounding vegetation. Something was there, something big and cunning. His eyes searched the ground and then he saw an outline in water from the canteen. Whatever it was had stepped into the puddle and then walked out of the cave. Robin saw a series of footprints. Something that walked on two legs, something that took steps with a man-sized stride, something with three toes on each foot, that walked upright, was able to open bottles, look into sacks, and spy on sleeping strangers. Something that might well be to the Moontiger and the Moonhound what Earth man was to the Earth tiger and the Earth hound. Moonman! _11. The Glass Man_ The situation was so astonishing that for a while Robin did not do anything but sit down inside his cave and catch his breath. Somehow he had assumed all along that he would not find anything on a human scale on the Moon. His life had been mainly confined to the first cavern-bubble he'd arrived at and this, as he now realized, had been a rather isolated one. Unconsciously, he had assumed that life in other protected airtight sublunar areas would be on a similarly low and limited level. Now he realized that he had had no right to make such an assumption. The Moon might harbor thousands and tens of thousands of bubbles; some might be hundreds of miles in scale; some, lower down, nearer the still-warm volcanic heart of the satellite, might even approach tropical climates and show little of the semi-monthly seasonal changes. In such places life might grow in profusion, might compel the kind of battle for existence as would bring out the evolution of a brain-carrying creature living on its wits. And, although he was probably a little farther away from the central caverns at this moment, he was actually on the outskirts of the linked bubbles. In such border regions he might indeed encounter rovers and wanderers from the more prolific areas. But the problem was now how to find this prowler. There was, he hoped, only one of them. The creature was probably hanging around somewhere, even now, keeping an eye on Robin's doings. Robin got to his feet, looked through his provisions. He found a bit of rabbit meat, took it out, and skewered it on a cooking stick. He then knelt inside his cave-refuge and built a fire, using his flint and steel. Over this fire he hung the bit of meat and set it to roasting. He carefully began to fan the smoke out of the cave, knowing that it would carry the new and tongue-tempting odor of cooked meat to everything in the vicinity. Robin slipped out of the cave and hid himself in a thick clump of growth nearby. Cheeky clung to his shoulder, hushed to silence. They waited. After a few minutes Robin saw a slight motion in the vegetation at the other side of the cave entrance. He watched, and a moment later saw a head thrust itself out, and then a figure emerge and silently stalk to the cave and look in. It was manlike, walking on two feet and it had two arms. It was oddly misty, seeming naked and semi-transparent like the other animal life. In one hand the creature carried a long stick to which something sharp and glassy was attached--clearly a type of spear. The creature paused at the cave mouth, then seeing no one within and unable to resist the tantalizing curiosity of cooking meat and a small fire, it went inside. Immediately Robin dashed out of hiding, ran across the small space and blocked the entrance of the cave with his body. The creature within was bending over the meat, but on hearing Robin, it turned, and made a wild dash for the cave mouth. It collided with Robin. For a moment there was a wild scramble of arms and legs and then Robin's greatly superior Earth muscles overpowered the other's and the creature was caught. Robin held it tightly in his arms, carried it into the cave, and sat it down. The spear had been knocked aside in the tussle and Robin looked at it with a glance. One glance was enough to make the young man realize that he had had a narrow escape. Its tip was bright and as sharp as a piece of broken glass. If the creature had thought to jab that spear, it might have been deadly. But now the captured being was sitting quietly in a sort of resignation, merely looking at Robin with the same curiosity that Robin bestowed upon it. It was very much like a human being, perhaps some four feet tall. But its head was somewhat triangular in shape, having only one eye (Robin never found any Moon creatures with two), and was topped with a large yellow light bulb that extended a foot above. Robin took the bit of meat, cut off a piece and held it out to the creature. The Moonman looked at it, then reached out a hand and took it. It smelled it, then tasted it, and, finding the taste to its liking, swiftly gobbled it down. Robin ate some too, and this gesture seemed to reconcile the other. A fairly universal gesture, Robin thought. Only friends would share a meal. Probably would hold true anywhere in the universe. Now Robin picked up the other's spear and examined it. Seeing this, the creature picked up one of Robin's sacks and also looked at it. The sharp point of the spear was something that looked like glass but glistened far more, seemed sharper, harder, and heavier. Robin turned it over, and the realization struck him that this spearhead was a diamond, a single six-inch-long shard of diamond! After the first shock of this discovery, Robin realized that he should have expected it. On such a volcanic world as the Moon had once been, there might well be lots of diamond in great masses. What could be easier to use for weapons and cutting edges than chunks broken from such masses. Such a chunk brought back to Earth might be worth an emperor's ransom--but who could think of such values here? Getting the friendship of the Moonman proved to be easy after that first effort. For the creature made no further effort to escape, seemed itself to desire Robin's companionship. In fact, as it turned out, Robin would have had a hard time getting rid of it. It seemed anxious now to stay close to the Earthling, to share him with Cheeky. The glass-skinned being had a language, for it soon began to jabber away at Robin in a high-pitched squeaky tongue. After a little experimentation, Robin was able to get it to repeat the name Robin, and in turn, he found out that the Glassie's own name was something nearly like Korree. Korree was evidently a very primitive sort of savage in spite of his ability to speak. As Robin set out to re-cross this bubble and return to his own holdings, the creature wound in and out ahead of him, returning steadily to see if all was well. Korree had no clothes and no understanding of them. He had only his spear, which Robin had returned to him and he had apparently lost faith in that, the first time Robin used his bow and arrow on a yapping Moontiger. The trip through the dark tunnels back to Robin's original bubble was comparatively easy, for no sooner did they get into the darkness than Korree's light organ began to glow brightly enough to render Robin's lantern dim. When they came to the cleft, Robin had to pick the Moonman up and jump with him, for Korree's muscles were built only for Moon gravity and that leap was beyond his normal ability. Once back in what Robin now thought of as the safety of his original bubble, the two settled down to work together. Korree soon got the hang of the simple duties Robin gave him--feeding the rabbits, slaughtering, skinning, and tanning. They spent the time trying to learn each other's languages. Robin carefully jotted down each new sound or word he could identify in the Glassie's speech and Korree in turn seemed anxious to imitate the English. It took about four months before they had a working interchange of ideas. Robin found that the Glassie's language was quite limited in many ways, though having a great many variations of verb form--a typical characteristic of primitive tongues. Finally, however, Robin heard Korree's story. His people lived many bubbles away, possibly many months of travel, though the Glassie idea of time was very vague and seemed hedged around by all sorts of untranslatable mystic conditions. There were maybe several hundred of them and they formed one big tribe or family. There were many such tribes, usually one to a bubble-cavern. Korree indicated that somewhere--he pointed downward--were greater caverns where many tribes lived, tribes of great strength or magic or knowledge. Robin could not decide which was meant--probably all three. But Korree had never been there. These downward regions were taboo to his people. Robin's suspicion was that the Glassies from Korree's group had been forced to live in the less desirable outer areas by the stronger and more advanced races who had seized the better regions. Korree indicated that there were many bubbles that were not inhabited because of great terrors, either by heat or cold. Robin assumed he meant caverns of jungle and caverns more exposed to the surface temperatures. Korree himself had broken some sort of tribal rule or magic and had been chased out of his home. He was a lonely outcast. That was why he had gone with Robin when Robin had given him food. This symbolized acceptance into Robin's tribe. And though Robin looked to him like a very strange sort of man indeed--a solid man, a "rock" man was the way Korree explained Robin's nontransparent flesh and his tremendous strength--Korree had been glad to find acceptance anywhere. Carefully questioning Korree about the surface, Robin found that the Glassie had apparently no conception of what sort of a world the Moon really was. To him it was a place of many enclosed spaces. The surface he had neither seen nor even dreamed of. That there could be a place where the enclosures ended and the world "dropped off" into nothing, this was something he could not imagine. Robin then asked questions about the upward regions. Korree indicated that these were less and less habitable, that his people strove always to go down, never up. Robin twisted his questions around, trying to determine if the Glassies had ever seen anything that might signify the surface. He described the sun and the Earth to Korree but the Glassie seemed unable to understand. But when he spoke of the sun as being a bright glowing thing so bright that it hurt the eyes to look at it, Korree seemed to remember something. Carefully the Glassie told Robin that he had heard of a tribe that lived somewhere in the upper regions, where in one part of their bubble there sometimes came a terrible white-hot light that hurt when one looked upon it. This light was not always there, but shone through the top of the cavern, which Korree explained was like the substance of his arm--that is, semi-transparent. Robin became very excited when he heard this. It sounded to him as if somewhere up near the surface there must be an airtight cleft or bubble whose outer crust might be natural volcanic glass. Through this the sun might sometimes penetrate to produce the phenomenon Korree described. Plainly then, this was the place Robin must find. It looked like the ideal place to begin his projected signaling to Earth. But whether it was or not, Robin would have to make a visit there to see. Korree did not like the idea, but indicated he would be willing to go along. "Could you lead me there?" Robin asked. "Much hard," Korree replied. "Can make do. You-me not like. Many-winter trip, many bubbles." But Robin was determined. "We will go. First I must make a space suit. I may need it." Korree spread out a hand in acceptance. It took about two months more to finish what Robin hoped would be a workable space suit. The helmet he finally managed to weld into something like a practical shape. It fitted over his head snugly, the little glass plate in front of his eyes. Its seams were closed as best as could be managed and sealed with melted animal fat. The bottom of the helmet fitted snugly over Robin's shoulders and would be attached to baggy leather arm-and-hand coverings. The bottom of Robin's body would be simply encased in several layers of clothing made as airtight as possible. To carry a supply of air, Robin fashioned a large sack of Moonhound skins, which, when filled with air and brought to the surface of the Moon, would swell up like a huge balloon. He hoped that by breathing from this reserve he might be able to survive on the surface for perhaps twenty or thirty minutes. This would be all he would need, he estimated, to rush out, set up some sort of reflector or flare if he could contrive such, and dash back to safety. "Safety" would, of course, be some previously sealed dome extending to the surface, through which he could cut a space narrow enough to leave, and yet, one which would not be entirely exhausted of its inner gases by the time Robin got back to reseal it. This was a long-chance project, yet it was the only hope Robin could think of. The matter could at least be examined at closer range if he could but find the cavern with the translucent roof. This would be an ideal base for his project. Robin packed his equipment, liberated the last of his penned rabbits, and loaded as much food as he could in big sacks which he and Korree carried. Then, preceded again by Cheeky's monkey bounds, Robin turned his back on his "home" and headed back to the tunnel and the caverns beyond. It had been over a year and a half since he had been cast away on the Moon, perhaps nearer two years. And now he was ready at long last to begin the long trek home. _12. The Long Trek_ As they progressed, Robin queried Korree as best he could as to the exact location of this fabled place from which the sun could be seen. "I not know from here," the Glassie replied. "Go from home place, yes. We go Korree home place first." Robin thought about that as they trudged along. He went easily and lightly in spite of his huge load--a collection of sacks and equipment tied together to make a bundle more than his own height. But bundle and all, Robin was lighter and stronger by far than he would be on Earth. "Won't they kill you if you go back?" he asked the Moonman. Korree turned his head and Robin almost imagined he could see his brains whirl. Through the glassy skin, he could see the shadows of his skull structure and the pulsing of veins and arteries. "With Robin they not do so. You make them give us free way." Obviously he regarded the Earthling as an all-powerful being to whom things like tribal death sentences would be mere nothings. Robin smiled uneasily. Without firearms and modern weapons he could still be overpowered if enough of the Moonmen attacked him at once. He would have to think about his approach to the tribe before he got there. They reached the tunnel and made their way once more through its dark recesses to the jungle-bubble where he had encountered Korree. They passed through this without incident. The Glassie led the way to one of several cracks and tunnels at the far end. With Robin following and the monkey Cheeky perched on the huge pack, Korree entered this tunnel. As before, it was dark and narrow and seemed to wind ahead. Several times they stepped around breaks in the floor, or ducked under low passages where the ceiling had dipped. They walked on, Korree's bobbing headlight casting a pale-yellowish glow a few feet ahead. Robin was watching the floor carefully, straining his attention to keep his footing safe. His ears registered the echo of their motions and the changing pitch as the tunnel widened or receded, but he paid less and less attention to this. Suddenly he looked up. And saw not the one glow of Korree's light but a number of smaller ones around them, distant ones, bobbing slightly, one or two yellow, one small white one, and three verging on red. He started and stared but Korree had said nothing. Finally he reached out and tapped the Glassie and whispered, "What are those lights?" Korree said back in a normal tone, "Animals. White light is hunting eater. I watch it." "Here? In this tunnel?" asked Robin, startled. "Not in tunnel," said the Glassie. "In new bubble-place." Robin looked around. Sure enough he had not noticed the echo of their feet in the last few minutes. The floor had changed from rock to sandy dirt and he realized that he had lost some of the enclosed-air feeling. It was indeed a new bubble-cavern--but a lightless one! Now, as he looked carefully, he realized that there were many lights around. There were tiny ones bobbing on the ground that were probably Moonworms. The others were almost certainly those of various animals. He took his flashlight out, suddenly clicked it on, and swung it around. They were in an open area, sandy with sparse clumps of mushroomlike vegetation growing here and there. He caught the scurrying flash of several translucent animal bodies dodging out of sight from the unexpected light of his flash. And when the beam was off, he noticed the headlights returning, augmented in number. "There are many bubble-places without light?" asked Robin. "Many," said Korree. "Glassies not live there, but many animals hunt there." Robin wondered whether there might in fact be more bubbles without light than with. He realized that that was probably the case; it very likely explained the nearly complete lack of pigment in the flesh of the native animals, the presence of the light stalks on all of them. It had probably evolved originally in lightlessness, and the Glassies had moved into the caverns fortunate enough to have natural phosphorescence only after they had discovered them much later in their history. This possibly also accounted for the single eye of Moon creatures--the conditions for the use of two eyes to develop perspective and delicate differentiations of shading and coloring simply never existed. "Are there animals here without eye or light?" asked Robin thoughtfully. "Yes," Korree answered softly. "Big eaters, they--" There was a sudden rush of sound ahead, a crashing of plants nearby, an instant winking out of all headlights, including Korree's, and then Robin felt himself thrown to the ground as something vast and huge and heavy seemed to envelop him. He felt himself being smothered under a pulsing blanket of warm flesh, a veritable wall that covered him from head to foot, crushing out his strength. Robin recovered, ripped out with his hands, kicked with his feet. He felt his strong Terrestrial muscles tearing into the tissue of the creature, and swinging wildly, he got to his knees and then to his feet, veritably lifting the entire bulk of the creature. He reached for his knife and as he got it open he felt the sharp edge of a jaw and the hot breath of a large mouth near his ear. He thrust out with the knife hard and furiously, cutting the mass to bits. There was a sharp screech and he felt the blanket of flesh pull away and struggle to withdraw. He got his flashlight with his other hand, flicked it on to see his opponent better. He saw a wall of gelatinous flesh rolling back before him. It rolled off the prostrate but unharmed body of Korree, gathered itself in a mass and rolled rapidly away, uttering loud screeches. The thing was a ball of flesh, several yards across. It had a wide, many-toothed mouth. It had several flat flanged spots which were probably ears, and it was lacking an eye, lacking any light organ. It hardly needed them. Obviously the thing simply rolled around in the darkness of the cavern, guided by the sounds of moving animals, rolling over them, flattening out, and devouring them. Korree got to his feet. He said nothing, seemed to take it for granted that the great Earthling would have bested this thing, of course, and started off again. Robin frowned, decided he'd have to watch himself lest the Glassie sometime really overestimate his capacities. They traversed the rest of the lightless cavern without incident, this time Robin keeping his flashlight switching on and off regularly, long enough to sweep the moonscape sufficiently to gain warnings of future assaults. Once they saw the ball-like bulk of a Moonbowler, as Robin mentally named it, in the distance, and they both carefully stopped and held their breath until it rolled away. At the far wall, Korree searched the various breaks until he found the one through which he had originally come. They passed through another lightless cavern, this one less of a desert than the other, where giant mushrooms towered like great trees in the darkness and where little chittering Moonmice ran about their feet, tiny green lights sparkling. The next cavern was a lighted one and this was now almost familiar to them. Beyond that was another lighted one through which a channel of water flowed only to disappear into a tiny crack in the far wall. This water, however, was yellowish and evil-smelling and made the entire cavern malodorous. Yet it too had its quota of strange vegetation. A series of rather small bubbles, not more than a couple of dozen yards across, came next, and then they arrived at a wide, deep one. The spot in the wall which let out on it was near the roof of this bubble, and they made their way delicately along a series of faults and ledges. Looking down, Robin could see that a lake of some bubbling oily substance filled the lower level of the bubble. Along one side, tucked in a corner near a tunnel opening, many hundreds of feet down, he spotted something odd. He stopped. Korree turned back, made his way along the narrow ledge and looked down to where he pointed. There was a small cleared space just before the opening, and there were several objects too far away to be seen clearly, but they looked for all the world like some sort of eggs. As they watched, Robin saw what seemed a shadowy figure move near one. Because of the curious glassy skins, that was probably an animal. Robin softly asked Korree what it was. "Is Glassie like Korree," answered Korree quietly. "A friend? One of your people? And what are they doing there?" asked Robin. Korree shook his head violently. "Not Korree people. That one is from down place. Is mighty people from...." He pointed downward to the Moon's core. "They come here to take...." He pointed now at the curious chemical lake. "They bring back down with them," he finished. Robin gasped. Here was evidence of his reasoning. The Glassies that lived near the core of the Moon were higher in civilization. Here evidently was a place where something usable could be gathered--the fluid of that lake. Possibly it might be fuel for burning, or substance usable as tar or cement. The beings down below came up for it, put it in tanks--the egg-shaped objects--and brought it back to their greater caverns. Someday this would have to be investigated. If he ever returned to Earth, this would have to be explored. But now--were these unknowns dangerous to him? He asked Korree, who shrugged. In his halting fashion he conveyed to the Earthling that if the Glassies of the upper crust left those lower down alone, they were not bothered. The implication however was that Korree's people were only too willing to stay out of the way of the powerful underlords. After several more caverns--the trip had already taken over a week--including one marvelous one in which several flaming gas jets made amazing patterns in an otherwise lightless world, Korree finally led the way into a large lighted cavern many miles wide, stopped and announced, "Korree home." Robin looked around, adjusted his pack and called to Cheeky to return. The monkey, which had scampered on ahead, obediently dashed back and to safety on the pack. This was an important moment to Robin. He mustered his plans, and stepped out after Korree who had started out again holding his spear high in the air in some sort of native signal. For a short while they walked without seeing anyone. They were in a forest of ball-trees when suddenly they found themselves quietly surrounded by Glassies. Evidently they had been trailed since entering the cavern and at a sufficient distance from the tunnel mouth the Glassies had popped out of concealment. There were about twenty or so, all armed with the diamond spears and they effectively encircled the travelers. Korree had apparently expected this, for he showed no surprise, but Robin stopped short and Cheeky started jumping up and down on the huge pack and shrieking at the pack of beings. It was odd seeing a mass of Glassies. Robin could see that they differed from each other as individuals. Some were larger, some smaller, and the shadings within their bodies gave rather clear evidence of fatness, of recent eating, and such. Like Korree they wore no garments at all. One of the Glassies said something sharply to Korree, who answered promptly. The spokesman had a black circle painted on his chest--this was obviously a symbol of some sort of tribal authority. Robin stepped forward, walked up to this Glassie, who promptly withdrew, uneasy in the presence of this unknown. From his pocket Robin took his pack of matches, the one that had been with him all the way from Earth. There were still three matches left, saved for just some occasion as this, carefully conserved by the use of Robin's flint and steel. Robin walked up to a small ball-tree nearby, held the match aloft, then struck it, and rapidly held it to the stalklike trunk. After a second the plant caught fire and was a blazing mass. While the Glassies were gazing in amazement at this unexpected display, Robin drew in his breath, set his pack down, and gave a leap straight upward with all his strength. He soared some thirty feet high and then gently floated down to the ground again. This was a feat that anyone with Earth muscles could do, but it was something that Lunar muscles had never been developed for. When the Glassies tore their eyes away from the burning tree it was to find Robin apparently vanished. Looking around, one of them discovered him in the air, floating gently back to the ground. With one accord the Glassies shrieked and ran away. When Robin hit the ground, he was alone with Korree--who looked as nearly smug as it was possible for his unearthly features to look. The Earthling picked up his sack, whistled to Cheeky to come to him, and started off again. In a few minutes, Korree led him to the tribal center, the "village" of his people. There were no houses or tents or any structures with roofs. Each family group apparently fenced off their section of ground with a barrier of low, pointed sticks, their points diagonally outward. Within this barrier, the family squatted with their few possessions. There was no such thing as privacy among this primitive group. The females of the tribe apparently stayed within their family plots, with the young, the extra spears and hunting sticks, the leftover supplies of food, and a pile in the center of each circle of what must have been some sort of blankets, apparently woven crudely from vegetable fibers. Robin assumed that during the cold periods, these were used. The males of the tribe were gathered before a central circle, watching their visitors approach. Korree went to them, stopped, and spoke at length. Robin could not understand him, but he knew what he must be saying. His Glassie friend was obviously first boasting of his friendship with the magical stranger, then warning them of terrible consequences if they failed to obey and honor the stranger, doubtless inserting a demand for his own full pardon of whatever tribal offense had brought about his own banishment, and demanding the aid of the tribal leaders in assisting them on their way. When he had finished, Robin walked straight up to the Glassie with the chest marking, reached out and extracted from the tip of his quivering light-organ stalk a copper cent which Robin had first palmed in his hand. To the astonished native, he presented this token--one of the coins Robin had had in his pocket on his unexpected trip from New Mexico. The Glassie took it, stared at it. The face on the coppery-yellow coin seemed to hypnotize him. No one had ever seen such a thing--a bit of bright rock with a face on it! But this additional evidence of Robin's magic clinched the argument. Robin and Korree stayed in that cavern for about three days. In that time Korree managed to obtain fairly specific directions from one old-timer as to the cavern they sought. He had also evidently repaired his tribal fences, for Robin could not fail to notice that Korree was always accompanied by a group of anxious and placating Glassies. He imagined that when Korree returned to stay, it would be as a chieftain. The nature of the tribe's culture remained much of a mystery. They were very primitive, yet they seemed to have a complicated series of taboos and ceremonies. There was clearly a very definite code of marriage and family relations, though its limitations were puzzling. Robin discovered something about them, however. One of the circular enclosures was apparently a tribal storehouse, or temple, or arsenal, or magic circle--exactly what he could not tell--save that no family lived within and there were little piles of oddities carefully placed inside its magic circle. The penny Robin had "pulled from the chief's head" reposed therein on a raised mound. The burnt match stick lay beside it. The rest of the contents seemed to be curiously shaped stones, odd bits of animal skin, a skeleton of something big and round which might perhaps have been that of a Moonbowler slain by the hero of the tribe. Several diamond spearheads were there, including some that had fractured in use. And something that glistened like metal. Robin saw this latter, and, stepping boldly inside the magic circle, picked this object up and examined it. It was a knife blade! It was nothing of Terrestrial manufacture. It was about nine inches long and a couple of inches wide at the hilt, tapering down to a point. It was edged on one side, and bore the marks of having been hammered down and shaped by a hand mallet rather than ever having felt the heat of a forge. Engraved in its rather soft white metal were a series of odd hooks and lines that looked like writing of a sort. The hilt end was jagged as if the blade had been snapped off in careless usage. Robin called to Korree and asked him about the object. Korree consulted with the chief and returned. "Sharp thing, it come from down-there people," he said, pointing to the regions below. "Glassie of those die in break of tunnel. We find, take this." Well, Robin thought, this adds to the evidence. There is some sort of higher civilization below. Not yet at the fire-building stage, but advancing at the dawn of the Iron Age. I wonder if this is really writing or just a design? And I wonder what metal this is? Not iron surely. He thought a while, then deciding that as a creature of magic he could get away with it, informed Korree that he would take the knife blade away with him. The Glassies seemed unconcerned. It was evident that Robin was far outside their taboos. The question of time among the Glassies was an odd one. The Earthling had surmised as much in his observations of Korree. There seemed to be no effort to divide the periods into rest and work. Some hunted and worked when they felt like it, others slept at the same time. When the time came, Robin and Korree made their way out of the cavern upward along a ledge on one side of the bubble wall, through a fault higher up and began to climb a sloping tunnel. For several more days they traveled, always working upward, passing through bubbles of gradually diminishing diameter and sparser vegetation. At one point they waded through a shallow pond, at another they choked in a sulfury cloud of gas that hung about. They squeezed through ever tighter cracks, and the air began to get distinctly thinner and harder to breathe. They were both getting exhausted quite easily; Robin knew they were nearing the surface and the spongy mass of the Moon's interior was tightening. Then at last they stood in a tiny spherical bubble and gazed at a pool of brackish water at one end. There were no cracks in this little cave, no further tunnel or means of progress. "What now?" asked Robin, turning to his companion. Had they taken the wrong turn and come to a dead end? Korree went over to the water pool. He gestured at it, made motions of holding his breath. "We go down in here, move under and come up ... out." He waved a hand in a down-and-under gesture. Robin looked into the water. Maybe the Glassie was right. It was possible that the water at the bottom passed into a fault and led into another cavern. But could he risk it? Korree nodded and without another word, suddenly jumped into the water, spear and all, and vanished. Robin waited. In a little while Korree's head appeared again and the Glassie climbed out. "Tunnel over there," he said, waving beyond the wall of the bubble. "Go up sharp." Well, there was nothing to do but to try it. Robin set down his pack and thought a moment. Cheeky the monkey was scampering around the floor of the small bubble. Robin took off his jacket and shoes, took out of his pocket anything that might be damaged by water, and leaped into the pool. It was an eerie sensation. The water was as dense as on Earth but its weight was so much less. It seemed almost to lack substance as Robin pushed through it, dived deep, and let himself come up again as far as possible. He broke water in total darkness. He was outside the cavern, but exactly where he could not tell. Korree with his light organ had known and that was sufficient. Robin reached for a bank, felt a sloping wall. He grabbed it, pulled himself up in the darkness. That much was right. There was a tunnel here running steeply upward. He sniffed the air. It was strange--breathable, but strange. This part of the Moon enclosure was certainly cut off from the other sections, that was certain. Robin let himself back into the water, swam for the cavern, and came up in it. He got hold of Cheeky, opened his pack, and extracted his homemade space helmet. He stuffed the monkey into it, closed end upward, and got into the water again. Moving swiftly under water, the terrified animal clutching the inside of the helmet, Robin transferred him to the other side, found a small level section by probing around, and deposited the helmet. He returned for the rest of his pack by this method, and finally everything was complete again in the new passage. By the light of Korree's head, he saw that they were in a narrow tunnel angling steeply upward. Robin's clothes and the pack had dried with great speed in the thin air and the low gravity. They made their way up this passage with difficulty and at last found themselves facing a lighted opening. They emerged into a new cavern, but one quite different from those that had gone before. It was long, perhaps two or three miles long, but narrow, not more than a hundred feet or so at the widest. Looking upward, the steep perpendicular walls seemed to come together and closed up tightly about a quarter of a mile high. A faint phosphorescence dimly lighted the new area. As they walked on, Robin became aware that there was no vegetation here, that his feet were moving through light dust. He let it run through his fingers. It felt chalky as pumice. He looked around them again and then he realized that he had at last reached the surface of the Moon. He was walking through the bottom of a long crack in the surface, a cleft that had somehow closed up again to preserve a cache of air. But this dust, this was the surface dust of Luna, fallen to the bottom of the cleft! As they walked, the dimness seemed to diminish. A whitish glow began to envelop them. Robin blinked at the strange light. Things began to take on strange colorations that he had not noticed before. He looked upward and saw that the ceiling of the cleft no longer was bathed in blackness. Instead there seemed a break there, a glassy glimmer through which poured a dazzling white light. Somewhere up there the crack had been sealed by volcanic action into grayish natural glass. Somewhere outside the sun was shining down upon the Moon. Its rays were bathing the surface above the concealed cleft and some were finding their way down. For the first time in many long and difficult months Robin felt warmth and light together. He had reached the sunlight! _13. The Sun and the Trap_ There had been a distinct chill in the strange surface canyon, but from the moment that the white sunlight began to stream in, there was a definite warming effect. The rays were diffused by the substance above which sealed the cleft, yet the sun was strong while it lasted. Robin felt good as he bathed in its rays. He looked at himself, at Korree, in wonder. For the clear white light was the first normal lighting he had seen in all the time he had been marooned below. Now he received the first true color visualization of himself and his companion. He saw from his hands that he had become very pale-skinned; all his normal tan had been lost in the cavern worlds. He unpacked the bright, gleaming space helmet and used it as a makeshift mirror. His hair had faded to a light blond, and there were several white hairs now visible, the result presumably of his period of exposure to the unshielded rays of the sun during his passage through space. In the clear light Korree seemed even more transparent than ever, and indeed Robin could make out the shadowy, pulsating shapes of his internal organs quite clearly--his skeleton standing out sharply. He realized how dim and abnormal the phosphorescence of the caverns had really been. Reshouldering his pack, they continued up the deep canyon. In a little while, the gray ashy surface gave way to sandy soil and there was a dampness in the air that indicated the presence of one of the deposits of water. Now the familiar Lunar vegetation was making its presence known and before long they were wandering through a very dense thicket of huge ball-trees and plants. Robin had never seen such a dense jungle growth on the Moon before and he attributed it to the occasional bath of sunlight this one cavern received. It was like a hothouse, a natural one, more or less sealed with a high dampness, natural warmth augmented by screened sunlight. Soon the two found themselves forcing their way single file through the growth, while Cheeky swung into the tops and made his own way, happy in the sort of thick, warm forest his monkey nature demanded. Robin pushed his way through first, with Korree following in the path the Earthling cleared. Robin went on through the jungle, struggling in spite of his powerful Earth muscles to push his pack along. After a while he stopped to rest, looked back. He saw behind him only the bruised and broken stalks of the ball-trees he'd passed through. There was no sign of Korree. Robin stared, but the forest was too thick to allow much vision. He set the pack down, called, "Korree!" There was no answer. Somewhere in the distance a stalk snapped. Robin called again. Still no answer. He started back a few steps, retracing his path, but there was still no sign of his Glassie friend. He suddenly felt uneasy. What was going on here? How had his companion vanished? He went back to where he had left his pack, waited, again calling his friend's name. But still there was no answer. There were more crackling noises somewhere in the thick vegetation. Perhaps Korree was in trouble there? Robin turned in that direction, started to push through the barrier of tree stalks. Suddenly there was a rushing noise, a chorus of shrieks all around, and something heavy fell around him. He whirled, but something sticky and tight was encircling his body. He caught glimpses of glasslike, one-eyed faces jumping around him, hiding in the branches, shrieking. He struggled again to free himself but the encircling Glassies threw more of the sticky ropes around him, more things like barrel staves that fell and tied him up. He struggled to use his full strength against them but his arms were pinned to his sides, he was tight amid the stalks and he could not brace himself. Fight as he might, he was caught, and he saw that there were stalk-ropes attached to those that had trapped him and these were being further secured by the creatures around him. He stopped struggling, quieted. It was obviously no use to waste his strength. Let's see what they intend to do next, he thought. For a while they did nothing. Then his Glassie captors--he still could see little of them so thick was the jungle--seemed to be working their way together so that all their attached ropes were soon leading off in the same direction. Then they started to pull. Had Robin chosen to resist it might have become a fruitless tug of war, but he did not. He had decided that his best course was to go along with them. Doubtless they would lead him to their village or at least to an open space where his great Earth strength might then come into better play. For a while, therefore, he allowed himself to be led through the Moontree forest, dragging himself enough to give his captors a workout. Robin had cagily decided that the more tired they were when they finally arrived, the better for him. After a time the thicket of plants came to an end and Robin found himself, as he had presumed, at the native settlement. Unlike the ones he had seen in Korree's home cavern, these Glassies were cavemen. They evidently made their homes in a section of this narrow surface-cleft where one of the walls was greatly pocked with holes and openings. The cliff walls were apparently quite like pumice here. Under the circumstances and because of the limited width of the area, it was quite logical that the inhabitants should have made use of these holes. There were several dozen such cave entrances and Robin could see a fair number of Glassies around them, including women and young ones. His captors, he now saw, numbered about fifteen, all male hunters like Korree. They hustled him along to a central cave, whose entrance was decorated with blue circles, clearly the designation of their chief. Korree was already there, tied, as was Robin. He looked relieved to see the Earthling, and also a little puzzled at seeing that Robin too was a prisoner. "They catch me when Robin not looking," he said, explaining the obvious. "I not like these Glassies' ways. I think they mean kill." Robin looked around at them. "We'll see. Back in my land, we have a saying, 'There's many a slip between the cup and the lip.' I think we will get away. Wait and watch." Korree immediately showed relief. He had a profound faith in Robin's magical abilities. To him, therefore, Robin's lack of fright was enough evidence that all was really well. The band gathered before the chief's cave was waiting. Presently a voice came from the cave darkness. It questioned one of the captors, who turned and repeated the query to Korree. Korree answered at length, and his answer in turn was repeated into the cave. At Robin's query, Korree said that he had just informed the hidden chief that Robin was a great man-beast who would destroy them all if he was not immediately released and placated. More cave talk and interchange. There was a delay for a while and Robin could faintly hear voices within the cave, as if the chief were discussing the matter with someone else. Then a command was issued. The captors pulled on the ropes and urged Korree and Robin to the door of another cave. They pushed them into this and rolled a large boulder in front of the cave mouth to block their exit. It was dark inside the cave but not so dark that they could not see that it was about twenty feet long and that there were a number of piles of stuff around, food possibly, or remnants of things. Korree and Robin eased themselves down on the hard floor. Robin studied the vegetable cords that bound him. He twisted his hands and pulled until he got his elbow up where he could exert pressure. Then he strained against one of the bonds. In a few seconds it parted and broke. In this way he snapped bond after bond until he was free. He was sticky from them, for the stalks had been soaked in some sort of adhesive substance which had made them so effective. But the strength of Earth muscles was more than they had ever held before. Next Robin went to work on Korree's bonds and broke them off one by one. The two silently stretched their cramped bodies. Korree glanced back at the dark end of the cave and his headlight organ glowed brightly for a moment. Something among the bundles was stirring slightly. Korree said quietly, "Another prisoner or a listener?" Robin looked. Yes, there was something over there, apparently tied up also. It might be a Glassie prisoner, or it might be some one of his captors trying to spy on them. He shrugged. Let them try. They couldn't understand English. The two sat down near the entrance, conversed quietly. Korree was of the opinion that the Glassies would eventually kill them in some sort of ceremony. Robin never had found out how different tribes of Glassies acted toward each other. Evidently they did not make war, but neither did they have much contact or exchange. In general, they treated each other like suspicious strangers, avoiding contact whenever possible. But it seemed now that when strangers did force their way into unwelcome tribal caverns, death was the result. This was fairly typical of the most primitive savages on Earth and it was evidently a rule for that level of culture anywhere in the universe. For a while then they sat silently, thinking about their plight. Robin, somehow, was not too worried. He had become so used to the superiority of his muscles that he felt that he could eventually manage his escape when the time came. The question was, where could he escape to? This particular region was not actually a part of the honeycomb of Luna's interior--it was a cleft sealed in by a trick of volcanic fate on the very surface. Probably it had no other exit than the one which led into it. Again, escape though he might, could he save Korree too? He thought about it in silence. Korree broke the meditations. "Have hunger. Is food here?" "There must be some around," said Robin, glancing back at the things in the rear of their prison-cave. The figure back there stirred a bit. And then there was a mumbling sound and a voice said something. The voice was deep and strong, unlike the sound of a Glassie's tongue. But Robin could not understand it. Korree too looked and listened. "Did you understand him?" Robin asked his companion. Korree shook his head. Now at the sound of Robin's words occurred the most astonishing surprise that Robin had yet encountered. The unseen speaker spoke again: "Who is that? Is there someone here who speaks English?" It was a human voice! It spoke Robin's language, though the intonation and accent were not quite right. Robin and Korree hastened back to the rear of their cave to the reclining figure of the speaker. In the light of Korree's head-stalk, it was indeed a man, an Earth man! He was lying, tied hand and foot, on a pile of scraps, but he was raising his head, staring at them eagerly. He was a young man, evidently not much older than Robin. His blue eyes looked at them with relief and he smiled widely. "You are a human! I thought I was dreaming when I heard a voice I could understand. You must be an American ... then the Americans must have beaten us here after all!" Robin knelt down by the man, worked at his bonds. They were tight, real cord of nylon or some Earth-made substance. It took the combined strength of the two of them to finally open the knots and free the man. "Who are you?" Robin asked, as he worked. "Do you have a rocket on the surface?" The man got to his feet, rubbed his muscles. He was dressed in a simple blue one-piece flyer's coverall. He was taller and slimmer than Robin, and his hair was tousled and reddish. "My name is Piotr Ivanovitch Kareff," he said, bowing with a European gracefulness. "I regret to tell you that my rocket is indeed on the surface--but there it will stay forever. We crashed. But I am so glad to see you. You do not know how glad." Robin shook hands. "I hate to disappoint you, but I must tell you that we are in the same predicament. I have no rocket here. I was hoping when I heard your voice that you might have one we could go back in." The other looked confused, shook his head. "No rocket? Oh, that is too bad. Very bad." The Glassie, who had been watching them without understanding too much of the rapid-fire quality of normal speech, suddenly said, "Have hunger much. Is food here." He turned his back on the two men, pawed through the scraps on the cave floor, coming up with some of the provisions that Robin had packed with him. "I'm hungry, also," said the Russian. "They have not fed me since they threw me in here. Is this stuff good to eat?" "Try it," said Robin and the three sat down and ate. Robin sat munching and stared at the other man. The first human he had seen in almost two years. A real live man! But where did he come from? How did he get here? And how was it he was a prisoner? For a while after they had finished, they looked at each other. The Russian spoke. "You must have a story to tell me, Robin Carew. How did you say you got here?" Robin briefly outlined what had happened to him, the other listening attentively. When Robin had finished, he asked, "Now I want to know about you? It's your turn." "Yes," said Piotr, "I shall tell you." _14. The Man From Lake Baikal_ "I was an orphan of World War II," said Piotr Ivanovitch Kareff in a quiet voice, speaking precise English with a fair fluency. "My family were all vanished, I know not what happened to them. I was brought back to Russia by our soldiers and sent to a state school in the Urals set up to take care of such as myself. "There I was a good scholar and I made myself good marks. When I was old enough, I qualified for study at a higher institute and was sent to a college for engineers. I was always interested in astronomy and rocket aviation and I was therefore trained along those lines. "When I was eighteen, I was allowed to continue my engineering education as a part of my military duty. I was in the army, yet still studying, only this time I was stationed at one of the big experimental centers we have deep in Siberia. You probably do not know about them. They are very secret. "The one I was at was located near the shores of Lake Baikal, the big inland sea in Central Asia near Mongolia. This was the biggest center for the study of liquid-fuel rockets. While I learned the theory, I also worked on the actual projects and helped fire many of our big rockets. These were designed after the German V-_2, the same designs you Americans are also building on. We, too, had captured German scientists who had worked on these. They had much to show us, and one of the smartest of these men was the Captain Von Borck who even became a member of the party or so he said. "I am not a political man, I am really interested in rockets, so I did not pay too much attention to these things. Von Borck may be truly believing what he desires, I do not know, but I think he is just what you call an opportunity seeker. "After my army service, I chose to remain at the Lake Baikal station as a regular engineer. I worked on the thousand-mile rockets, and finally on the satellite rockets, and I helped get them up there. It was a nice race with you Americans. We knew a little of your plans--those you publish in the papers--and we always were urged to beat you. Sometimes we did. Sometimes you beat us. "At our centers we made a game of this. It was serious to our country, but to us, men of science, all discoveries by human beings are great things. We liked to think of our work as a great game of mental chess with you Americans--with the pieces on the board carefully hidden from sight and reported only through guesswork and bad witnesses. "When the satellites were up and flying their orbits around the Earth, yours and ours, the next game was obviously to race for the Moon. Should we plant the Red flag there, or you the Stars and Stripes? So we worked at that. We did not this time know what you were doing. Maybe you had different ideas. "So Van Borck discovered a means of using atomic explosions in a steady rocket stream and explained the principle. We worked on this motor a while and finally the Ministry ordered the building of one rocket which could fly to the Moon with this super-powerful engine. At first our commander at the base said it should be a robot-piloted model, but Moscow did not want that. They wanted that men should go on that first trip. They wanted that a Soviet man should be first to reach the Moon. "They did not know about you, Robin, and your stowaway trip! Ha! But even the Americans do not apparently know about you, alas for both of us!" Piotr stopped a moment, got to his feet, went to the door of the cave and listened. He came back. "No one there watching us. I go on," he said. "So finally was built a big rocket with the first atomic explosive engine. Von Borck himself was going to go in it as its engineer. But Von Borck was not really a Soviet man, and I do not think Moscow was happy about it. So they allowed for the ship to have a three-man crew. I was selected, because I am young and quick and have a good record, and also maybe because I have no family to be sorry I not come back maybe. Arkady Pavlovitch Zverin was the third, who was also an orphan. "Came a day when the big rocket was complete and ready. We said good-by to our friends and at the right time we went up the ladder and into our big rocket. That day, which seems to me so long ago, must have been not even a week ago yet! "We took off perfectly, we blasted for ten minutes--I thought my head would burst--and we were on our way. Von Borck piloted it, but there was really little to do. When it came time to reverse the rockets and make our landing, we had trouble. Our gyroscope control was stuck and we had to fight with it by hand to move it. This made a delay and when we did get our jets reversed and working, our timing was off. Von Borck struggled to slow us up and come to a real stop, but we were a little too fast. We came down blasting away, and we hit very hard. "The rocket was partly smashed. The engines and tubes all crushed. The nose was badly jarred and poor Arkady was killed by the impact. Von Borck, too, was thrown from his seat, knocked unconscious on the floor of our little cabin. I was badly bruised, but I remained conscious. "Fortunately for us, the little cabin remained airtight. When all was still, I looked over what happened. I looked outside. We were in a large crater, whose bottom was crisscrossed with cracks. One of these, running into the distance, was quite glassy and I saw that something like steam was issuing from a point near it. This meant to me that somewhere underneath the surface there might be a place with air and water. "I had at first thought all was lost and I would remain in the little cabin until the air was used up or the food gave out. This would be only a few days. But I thought that any chance, however little, was better than no chance. So I managed to get to the locker and get out two space suits. One I put on Von Borck who was still unconscious, but whom I could not leave behind. The other I got into myself. "I took the German over my shoulder and managed to get out of the ship through the lock which was still intact. Carrying my companion--it was easy, he was so light on the Moon--I explored the cracks near where the ship fell. I found a way leading down and even a series of very natural air locks--a most unusual development. "Passing through many caves and tunnels I made my way and finally got to this one. Von Borck had regained consciousness but he was not in his right senses. He was talking nonsense. He believed--I do not know how to put it--he was the King of the Trolls. He thought he was somewhere in--fairyland or hell or some supernatural place. He did not remember the trip. "When we first met these Moon people--you call them Glassies--Von Borck said they were his Trolls. He killed four of them with his own hands and the rest became afraid of him, thought him a god or demon come to rule them. He let me alone a little while, then he seized me, tied me up himself, and put me here. "I am afraid that he plans to sacrifice us. He is completely crazy and he has these Glassies obeying him. I am sorry for us." Piotr stopped talking. He looked at Korree appraisingly. Robin understood his intention. "I'm afraid that Korree won't have any influence with these Glassies. They are a different tribe." Robin rubbed his hands a bit. "I really think we should be able to escape, even so. We now outnumber Von Borck two to one and I think if we pick our time we could manage to make a getaway. We'll have to be careful. Do you think you could get back to your rocket on the surface?" The Russian nodded. "I guess we could. I was planning to go back from the start." "Is there anything there we could use to signal the Earth with?" asked Robin. "A radio, flares, mirrors?" Piotr nodded. "We had speaker-radio equipment, but it was smashed in the landing. It was the first thing I tried after we hit. But we do have flares. We could signal with them." "I imagine," said Robin, "that both the Americans and Russians must be working on Moon rockets now. If we can signal back there, the next rocket along might come to this crater and find us." "Good," said the Russian rocketeer. "Only how do we get to the surface? I have a space suit, which is probably in Von Borck's cave. Von Borck must have a suit too, if we can find it, though I think it will be much too big for you." Robin explained about his homemade space suit. Piotr was quite impressed. The suit which was packed in Robin's big sack was in the prison cave where it had been thrown and they unpacked it. Piotr examined the helmet with interest. "Very good. It might work. It seems airtight." "I tested it under water," said Robin. "It didn't leak any bubbles." The Russian nodded. "But I don't believe your big bag of air would work. How would you blow it up in the first place? I think you would have had a hard time anyway. But fortunately there are three oxygen tanks on my own suit. I can detach one for your use." He nodded, looking over the homemade helmet. In the half light of the cave Robin looked at his new friend with interest. There was something about his face which struck an odd chord in Robin's mind. Something about him brought back faint, almost forgotten memories, dim frightening memories of bombs exploding, of falling buildings, of a frightened child, and great loss. Robin suddenly asked, "How did you learn to speak English so well?" Piotr looked up. "I was wondering when you would ask that. I always knew English, I spoke it as a little child. When I was found by the soldiers in Dresden, I was but a little boy, maybe six or seven. I spoke some German, but mostly I spoke English. They could find no sign of my parents, my family, so they took me back to Russia with them. I studied English too in school, but I always knew it." Robin started, his heart pounding very strangely. "Where did you get your name? That's Russian." The other stared at him hard. "No, it's not. My name--Piotr Ivanovitch Kareff--means Peter the son of John Kareff." Robin was sure he knew now, but he doggedly insisted on his next question. "My father's name was also John. John Carew. And how do you spell your last name?" "Why," said Peter, a curious smile beginning to force its way to his lips, "just like it's pronounced in Russia--Kareff--C-A-R-E-W--Kareff." And at the same instant, tears of joy sprang uncontrollably to their eyes and the two brothers grabbed each other, laughing and pounding one another's back in wild reunion. Korree stared uncomprehendingly at the curious sight of two Earth men apparently taken leave of their senses. _15. Getaway Bomb_ After they had recovered from their outburst of enthusiasm the two let go of each other and sat down out of breath. "Well, this is really amazing," said Robin finally. "Here I have to go to the Moon to find my brother. You know I really do not remember very much." "Of course not. You could not have been more than four years old when we parted. I was about three years older, I guess. Perhaps we can put what we do know together and find out what did happen. I know that Father and Mother were interned in Germany by the Nazis. That when the war was nearing its end, the Germans started to move them and other prisoners around. In the confusion, we were stranded somewhere and there was heavy bombardment going on. I lost you and Mom and Dad somewhere, wandered by myself for many days. I was with a band of Russian people who had been taken to Germany by the Nazis to do slave labor. They were making their way back to their homes and I clung to them. So the Soviet Army simply counted me among its own orphans and took me back. But maybe you know more about our family?" Peter looked expectantly at his younger brother. Robin nodded. "I don't remember what happened. I was too young. I only remember being terribly frightened and alone and things going bang. When I was older I looked up the orphanage records. It seems that Dad had been some sort of business agent in Germany and when the U.S. got into the war he was interned along with Mom and the two of us. Evidently they were killed in some sort of bombardment at the war's end and I was the only one who survived. You are listed as having been killed with them, according to the American Army report." Korree was moving restlessly during this conversation, not understanding very much of it. Now he pulled at Robin's sleeve, pointed. "Look. Cheeky come." Sure enough Robin's simian pet had finally found them. Evidently having easily avoided capture by the Glassies, the little animal had been searching for his master. Now his little head appeared around the edge of the big rock that sealed their cave. At a whistle from Robin, Cheeky pushed his way through the narrow gap and scampered to his friend. Peter watched the monkey with interest. "I wonder if we can't make use of your pet to help us get out of here," he said. "We really ought to start thinking of escape. I don't know when Von Borck will take the notion to start something bad." "Well, let's start planning it out," said Robin. "First, we ought to see what we have to work with. I think that the Glassies simply threw everything I had with me in here too. That should make things fairly simple. What did they have of yours?" They went over to the pile of things, with Korree along to light the way, and examined it. Everything was present. Of Peter's property, his space suit was there, intact, with its three shoulder oxygen tanks. Robin picked up a gun belt that had evidently been part of the outfit, but the holster was empty. Peter commented, "Von Borck took it when he turned on me. He is armed also." But Robin noticed that the German rocket pilot had evidently not thought to take the pack of additional pistol ammunition that was clipped to the belt. He withdrew a clip and turned it over, then said: "We should be able to use these to start a diversion of some sort. If we can get their attention elsewhere, we can easily push aside the rock that seals our cave and make a run for it. We ought not to wait for Von Borck to make up his mind." "Ah yes," said his brother. "There is good gunpowder in those bullets. We could make a small bomb for a fuse or a display." "I think a bomb will do the trick. Let's get at it." Robin suited his action to the words. He sat down, spread a clean piece of cloth he found among Peter's property on the floor and began to pull the cartridges apart and gently shake out the powder. Back on Earth, such a job would have been hard without instruments and great force. Here on the Moon, it was not easy but their strength enabled them to twist off the metal rims. Soon they had a neat little pile of explosive powder gathered together. This they packed into a small glass tube among Peter's explorational equipment until it was tight and filled the space. They twisted a dry fiber until it was cordlike and rolled it in a little remaining powder till it was thoroughly blackened. This they inserted in the end of the tube as a fuse. "Now we should get our stuff together and get ready," said Robin. "I don't think it would be a good idea to go back the way I came in; we'd just be cutting ourselves off. The idea is to reach your rocket on the surface. Which way did you come?" Peter indicated the opposite direction. "I came in through a hole rather high in the wall, came down here along a narrow ledge. I can find it again, I think." "Then let's get into our equipment and get ready," said Robin. He began to load his huge pack again, but Peter intervened. "You really can leave some of that behind now," he said. "Make it easier to move fast. Besides we've got some narrow places to squeeze through on our way to the surface. I'd suggest leaving most of the food behind. Take enough for a couple of meals more. You'll only need your space helmet and space clothes." Peter was climbing into his space suit, an airtight rubberized affair with electric heating grids. This on, he put on his space helmet for the sake of convenience, though he left the little panel of the face window open. Robin slung his own helmet from his shoulder--its vision plate, being homemade, was fixed in place. When they were ready, they went over to the entrance and peeked through the narrow, open space. "Why, it's dark outside!" said Robin. Where before the deep cleft had been lighted by the white light of the outside sun, now it was dark. It was not as dark as the bubble-caverns below had been, for a faint light still penetrated down from the ceiling. They could make out the darker shadows of the surrounding growth, and the Glassies outside were moving figures each illuminated by a small circle of light from their head stalks. "Evidently the sun is going down on the Moon's surface," said Peter. "It was low on the horizon when my rocket arrived. I wonder how cold it will get in this place?" "It seems to be a little colder already," said Robin. "This may bring Von Borck out of his cave to see what's happening." Robin called to Korree, explained what they were about to do. Then while Korree kept a hand on Cheeky, the two Earthlings leaned their shoulders against the big boulder and pushed it aside easily--an effort which would have blocked Moon muscles. Korree had dimmed his headlight and the two men kneeled down and carefully lighted the fuse of their bomb with Robin's flint and steel. The end of the fiber sputtering, Robin took Cheeky and pressed the glass vial into the monkey's paws. "Over there," he whispered to the monkey urgently, and pointed a finger to the darkness opposite the direction in which they would be heading. "Take it over there and leave it," he whispered. He'd often taught Cheeky to fetch and carry, and he hoped the animal would obey. It did. Grabbing the glass tube with its smoking fuse, the monkey dashed off into the darkness. "I hope he remembers to drop it and come back," said Robin. Peter nodded. "Let's get started." The men and Korree started slowly out of the cave. There was a very faint dimness about them, a starlight glow that was just enough to distinguish the presence of objects. They moved slowly, avoiding the telltale lights of passing Glassies. Korree kept his own stalklight dark. Suddenly the peace and darkness were split by a sharp, violent explosion somewhere behind them. Immediately following was a screeching, recognizable as the sound of an angry monkey and almost as frightening. For an instant there was stunned silence and then pandemonium broke loose. Glassies came running in all directions, slamming into each other, not knowing what had happened. Some were running away from the noise, some were running to investigate the terrible bang, and others were simply running for cover in the caves. In the mad helter-skelter, Robin and Peter and Korree ran as fast as they could to the far end of the cleft. They dodged tree stalks, pushed through other patches, stumbled occasionally over obstacles, but carried on. Robin noticed even as he ran that the vegetation was already drying up and dying rapidly. The cessation of sunlight had probably been quite abrupt as the sun had sunk behind whatever crater walls made up the horizon above them. Evidently the growth here was geared to a short, heavy life and sudden death. Over the frightened, high-pitched voices of the Glassies, Robin now heard another sound, the roaring voice of a man. Von Borck had been brought out. He was yelling something, shouting angrily. Peter called to Robin as they dashed along. "He's trying to get them to order. He knows we did it. But they don't understand him." On they ran. Now behind them they heard some signs of pursuit. Evidently Peter was overoptimistic. Somehow Von Borck must have managed to get the Glassies to realize his meaning. Hitting some and shoving others, he had clearly gotten a few, who were still in awe of his "magic," to follow him. They could hear the sounds of stalks cracking far behind them as they ran. But they had a good head start. Robin had been hanging on to Korree's arm, dragging him with him in huge, leaping steps. But as they dashed on, he realized that Peter was slowing his own steps to accommodate and that the sounds of Von Borck's rush behind them were beginning to be louder. Korree evidently realized this too. "Leave me," he gasped. "I make out." With a twist he slipped out of Robin's hand and ran into the darkness. "Wait!" yelled Robin after him, stopping. But Peter turned back, grabbed his brother. "He's right. He'll be better off here. We couldn't get him to the surface anyway. Come on! Quick!" With a sudden lurch of his heart and lump in his throat Robin recognized the truth of this. He grabbed Peter's hand and the two of them started off faster than ever, heading for the far wall in huge Earthborn leaps. It was an eerie experience dashing madly along in the near blackness of the cleft. The faint glow which came from above, probably only the light of a million million faraway stars, filtered through the curious translucent material of the cleft top, serving only to make patches of blackness against patches of even greater blackness. Far behind them a faint flickering indicated the movements of the natives. Now and then a startling flicker would prove the presence of some startled Moonworm, uncovered as a stalk was thrown over in the rush. Behind them they could hear a crashing and every now and then a shouted word. Robin wondered what was being said, but Peter, sensing his wonder, gasped out, "He's shouting ... the word for devils! When ... he came to ... he believed himself ... in some sort ... of Troll kingdom ... with me ... as a ... devil." "Crazy! Stark raving mad!" shouted Robin back. On they went. The helmet banging against Robin's back made him feel clumsy and odd, yet he moved through the air with the agility of a phantom. Now, suddenly, there loomed a dark wall before them and they caught themselves back just in time to keep from smashing headlong into it. "The wall!" shouted Robin. Peter pulled his arm, started hurrying along to one side. He gave a sharp cry of relief, pulled Robin to him. "Here we are, the ledge. Go on up!" Peter started off. Robin followed as fast as was possible. There was evidently a thin ledge running up the side of the cave. In places it was a gentle slope angling upward, in other parts there was a sudden step. In their haste there was no time to pick and choose their steps. Several times Robin tripped, almost falling, but he had built up such a momentum that he simply slammed and banged over the obstacles, charging up the ledge with a luck and agility that would have made a mountain goat jealous. Behind them, at the base of the cliff, they now heard Von Borck's roaring. "_Teufel!_" he was calling. Then suddenly from where the madman stood, there beamed out a flash of yellow light. A flashlight, thought Robin, he had a flash. The beam passed rapidly over the cave wall seeking the escapers. Once or twice they froze against the side as it passed over them, dashing on as soon as it was gone. Then Von Borck's light caught them, held them. "Keep running," yelled Peter, "it's not far now!" The two kept up. Then there was a sharp report below them and something went _spang_ on the rock wall near Robin. A bullet ... the mad rocket pilot was firing at them. Now they simply raced on, ignoring the German's wild shots. "Here we are!" gasped Peter and seemed to melt right into the cliff face. Robin saw the black opening in the next second and tumbled into it, to be caught by his brother's arms. For an instant they stood there in the darkness, catching their breath. Then a light appeared in Peter's hand, and Robin saw that he held an electric torch there, part of his space-suit equipment. The beam illuminated a narrow, dark tunnel leading steeply upward apparently through the solid rock. "This way!" said Peter and started off. Robin followed him on into the narrow path that would lead him at long last to the surface of the Moon. _16. On the Crater Floor_ The tunnel was very narrow, a mere crack in the wall, and Robin was hard put to squeeze through in a couple of spots. But it was not too long and, in a few minutes, Robin felt from the change in air and echo that it had opened out into a wider area. Peter's flash confirmed this. They were in a small air-pocket bubble several yards wide. They crossed this while Peter searched along the floor. He stopped, pointed down. "We go down again, through this hole in the floor. There's a short drop of only a few feet, but be careful." Peter stepped over to the hole, sat down, and eased himself out of sight. Robin looked down, could see the floor of another cave just below. He dropped his pack through and squeezed down. Here they were in a sort of shallow flaw running lengthwise, and they had to walk in a crouched position to keep their heads from bumping the low ceiling. Robin wondered how Peter knew which way to go, but looking carefully, he realized that his brother was only following the trail of his footsteps made on arriving--for there was a thin coating of dust on this floor that showed the trail. "How did you ever find this passage?" asked Robin, his voice echoing flat and high in the passage. "Saw the sealed cleft top running across the bottom of this crater. Found a spot near it where some sort of gas was hissing out. Went down it, and simply followed every lead that pointed in the direction of the cleft." Robin knew that behind this reply undoubtedly lay a lot of sweat and agony. Peter had made the trip carrying an unconscious body with him! The low passage ended in a small cave-bubble. A break at the top of this was the next line of direction. Peter had simply dropped down on his arrival, but they waited to catch their breath. They would have to jump for it. "Do you suppose Von Borck is following us?" asked Robin while waiting. Peter shook his head. "I doubt it. First, we'd probably have been able to hear him coming. Second, he'd still know enough to go get his space suit before following us. Third, he won't remember anything of this trip and will have to find his way." Rested, Robin gave Peter a boost, hoisting him as high as he could to the top of the cave-bubble. Peter jumped the short distance remaining, catching a grip on the edge of the hole in the cave ceiling. He pulled himself up, then dropped his nylon cord down for Robin to grasp and help himself up. Up above there was still another small bubble, broken on one side. A whole series of broken bubbles lay revealed, and they walked along this section gingerly. This area was greatly cracked and seamed. It was clear to them that there was a possibility of a fall-in. Beyond that group they came to another break leading upward, and again they moved on. Now Robin found himself breathing very heavily. "I'm getting very tired," he gasped at last. Peter stopped. They were still in the break and a severe slope was rising before them. "It's the air pressure. It's getting quite low already. You've been used to the low pressure of the bubbles below, as you tell me, but we are close to the surface and the limited amount of air sealed in this particular bubble-system is thinning beyond the safety point. We'll have to go slow and rest often. I don't want to have to use our oxygen supplies until we are at the limit of our natural abilities." Robin finally caught his breath, felt power returning. Now the two pushed on, going very carefully and slowly, with rests every few steps. The steep rise ended at a narrow opening. Peter paused here, motioned to Robin to join him. "This is the crisis point," he said. "Listen." Robin strained his ears. He was aware of the pounding of his heart struggling for oxygen. He was aware of a ringing in his ears from the low pressure. But now he heard over that a thin whistling, a high, steady rustling whistle coming from somewhere across the narrow, long cave he was looking in upon. "What is it?" he whispered. "A most unusual phenomenon," whispered Peter back. "The only thing that keeps the air in all this subterranean region from being sucked away to the surface. It's a volcanic current of hot gas, racing through this long channel at tremendous speed. It must come up from somewhere in the still-warm interior; it must be rushing to some vast cold spot below. But it serves as an effective curtain cutting off the stale air on this side from the near-vacuum of the surface. Its density, velocity, and heat perform the miracle." Peter shone the lamp across and down the cave. The passage cleared a long, tunnellike channel which ran down into darkness on one side and away into equal darkness on the other. Only a few yards across from them he could see the gray surface of the wall. There seemed to be nothing else except the whistling noise. "Edge along the wall here carefully," said Peter, and started off. He kept one shoulder rubbing the wall near them and walked carefully down the passage. Robin edged out, following him closely. He felt no movement of air, yet he detected a faint trace of warmth on his outer side. Somewhere, invisible to him, that cataract of volcanic air was flowing. Was it a few feet or a fraction of an inch? He could not tell. The wall bellied wider a little, allowing a chance to get farther away from the unseen wind. Peter was waiting here. "I think we'd better adjust our space equipment now. We have a short way to go, then we'll have to fight our way across that air blast. There's an opening to the surface at one point nearby. Once we cross the wind and get to it, we'll be outside." Robin let down his pack. Peter examined Robin's equipment again, looking worried. He shook his head once or twice. "I hope it works out all right, but some changes will have to be made." He took the big bladder Robin had constructed as an air bag. "This won't work, but it will come in handy in a different way." He took Robin's pocket knife and began to cut the big sack apart to make thin long strips of leather. When he had finished with that, he looked over at Robin and said: "Now you'll have to wind these strips around you as tight as you can. Begin as high up on your chest as possible, and go on down. Wind them around your arms and legs, around your fingers, if possible. Don't undress, but wind the strips over your clothes. Make them tight. I'll help you." As they worked to do so, Peter explained further. "Having an air helmet is not enough for space. The pressure of your blood and the gases in your system will make it impossible for you to breathe or move, if your body is not tightly encased. A real space suit like mine is pressurized, built with a layer of air pockets all over, which increase their pressure in proportion to the decrease outside. But if you don't have this pressure, even having air around your head will not help. So make those bandages tight, as tight as you can without stopping your breathing completely." They worked on, winding the leather around and around, until Robin felt as if he were being encased in a strait jacket, felt like a living mummy. Strips were wrapped around his fingers under his gloves, his gloves fitting over them and further strapped. Next Peter strapped one of his three oxygen tanks to Robin's back. "I hope this will work well enough to keep you breathing until we reach the rocket. Fortunately you made your helmet deep enough to come down far over your shoulders. I can work this air tube up high enough for you to grasp the end in your mouth. The air will force its way into your lungs. You'll have to struggle to force your exhalation out of your nose. It's difficult, especially the first time, but you'll have to cope with it." As he held the helmet preparatory to putting it over Robin's head, he gave him some last-minute instructions. "We won't be able to communicate once I get this on you. You've no radio and your mouth will be full anyway. So listen carefully. "The rocket is about a hundred yards away. I'll lead the way, and I'll tie this cord around your waist so you won't lose me. Follow me as close as you can. There's a possibility that your glass plate may fog up or ice over from the water vapor inside your helmet. If it does, hang on to the cord and keep moving after me! But don't stop ... and don't give up! All set?" Robin's heart was beating fast, he felt strange and stifled in his bindings. This was the zero instant. He nodded, held out his hand. Peter grasped it, shook it. "When you're all set, follow me across the wind stream. It's powerful--don't let it throw you." Robin put the end of the air tube in his mouth. Peter pushed the homemade helmet down over his head, secured it tightly, almost painfully, until no space was left for air to escape. Then Peter reached behind Robin to the small tank strapped there and turned a petcock. Instantly Robin started to choke as he felt something being rammed down his lungs. He caught himself, recognizing that his lungs were being forcibly inflated. He struggled to get control of his diaphragm to expel the excess air pressure. He managed finally to do so, feeling a whiff of air rush through his nostrils. He fought a bit more with the unpleasant current, felt himself getting a grip on it. Through the plate of his helmet he saw Peter watching him anxiously. Then Peter rapidly tied the nylon cord around his own waist, let it out a few feet, and tied the other end around Robin's. Peter snapped shut the visor of his own helmet, touched the air controls of his own suit, and nodding to Robin, stepped out into the tunnel. Robin followed closely, conscious of the tight, restricting bands, still fighting the unpleasant pressure of the air tube blowing down his lungs. Peter walked a few steps, pointed a gloved hand across the passage, shone his light. There was a narrow black gap across there. Through it Robin caught a glimpse of bright white specks--the stars! Then Peter made a dash, seemed to be picked up by a giant hand and whirled wildly across the passage. The cord tightened and Robin jumped into the space to avoid being pulled off his feet. He was struck at once by a terrific onrush. A hot, violent blast slammed into him. He lost his footing, felt himself being hurled headlong into a furious tornado. The cord leaped out, and Peter pulled on it hard. Robin swung about, fetched up against the other side of the wall of the cave with a bang, was pulled to his feet before he had even started to fall, and was propelled right through the gap in the wall. Suddenly all was still. The whistling of the wind, the roar of the current as it struck him, had vanished. Only the sucking and rushing of the oxygen in his own helmet could be heard. He was outside, on the surface of the Moon at last! The gap opened from the wall of a cliff. Above him, the cliff soared to become a mountainous edge of a deep, wide crater. He turned his head, but Peter was impatient. He felt the pull of the cord, turned and followed Peter, who was moving away from the crater wall in long, low strides, strides that ate up distance like an Earthly giant in seven-league boots. Robin adjusted his pace, followed closely. For a while he forgot his personal danger and simply gazed around at the fabulous moonscape. The crater's other wall was maybe a dozen miles away, but the thin air--the almost indetectably tenuous air that clustered at the bottom of this crater made the distance seem nothing. He could even make out details of the far edge. And yet this section of the Moon was in the night-time. The sun had passed it by. It should have been dark, pitch-dark, by the logic of the interplanetary space. Yet it wasn't. Everything instead was bathed in a cold greenish-blue light that covered the surface like the glow of a half-dozen full moons. He looked up. Directly in the center of the sky overhead was the source of the radiation. A great glowing ball of green and blue and white, a ball with a misty aura surrounding it, a globe that struck Robin instantly as familiar. It was the Earth. The home world, seen in all its glory, a giant full-moon Earth, continents and islands clearly outlined, a glory of pale colors, poles agleam with dazzling white ... it was a sight that momentarily stopped Robin in his tracks, hypnotized with wonder. The cord pulled him out of it, and on he dashed, looking about him in the pale Earthlight. The surface was thick with cosmic dust, here and there the rounded domelike surface of a congealed volcanic bubble. Cracks crossed and crisscrossed the surface, and Peter and he had to bound across many of them. He saw rising slightly above the surface a long rill of whitish substance, racing across the crater bottom. With a start he realized that that must be the glasslike roof of the great cleft he had so recently escaped from. Above, the sky was nearly black and myriad stars shone bright from the distance. The outlines of the surrounding mountains walled in the two boys as if they were pygmy boxers in a gargantuan ring. Robin was forcing the air from his nostrils, allowing the oxygen to rush into his lungs. He began now to feel the first faint chill of surrounding space. He realized that it must already be nearly a hundred and fifty below zero on the surface, probably even much more than that. He had to keep moving, keep moving. But it was getting colder. He felt the cold penetrate him as his suit radiated the warmth that was in it. Now he wondered what was happening outside. Something was obscuring his view. Was it mist he was passing through? He had heard of mist on the Moon's surface, but he had seen none when he had first emerged. Yet his vision was being obscured more and more by a cloudiness. He strained his eyes, suddenly realized that the mist was not outside, it was inside! The slight amount of vapor inside his helmet was beginning to frost up on the inside of his face plate. What Peter had feared was beginning to happen. Robin missed his footing, stumbled, not having seen the little ridge they had passed. Peter, now barely visible ahead of him, had not stopped. Robin felt the cord tighten as he slowed down, uncertain of where his feet were landing. He began to feel groggy, realized that he was becoming frightened. He gritted his teeth on the unpleasant air tube, said to himself, _Get a hold on, stay firm. Only a few more steps to go. Hang on! Hang on!_ He conquered his panic. Blind or not, he would keep on until he passed out. The face plate was now solid white, completely opaque. He stumbled on, allowing the tight cord to direct him, pull him. On and on, the journey seemed endless. Running, jumping, and bouncing, his feet banging against unseen rocks, hitting into cracks, kicking out, flying through space in bounds of blind horror. It was a nightmare such as he'd never dreamed. Then, as he came down hard and banged into something, he felt his helmet slip a little, jog slightly. There was a _whish_ and suddenly his face plate cleared completely. At the same instant he felt as if his eyes would pop, while something snatched at his nose and sucked the breath from him. Through the clear plate he caught a wild glimpse of a large metallic structure sticking up out of the ground. The Russian rocket, he thought wildly. It was big like a huge bullet, gleaming brightly and polished. He saw it nearing him, realized he was being dragged along by Peter. He realized also that his helmet had slipped a gap, that the air within had been sucked out, that the water vapor clogging his face plate had been snatched out with it, and that his face was exposed. But the oxygen tube was still in his mouth, still forcing air into him, and his nostrils were having it sucked out almost as fast. Somehow the thin stream of air rushing from the helmet kept his face from all the rigors of vacuum. His eyes were bulging and paining, he felt his nose spraying blood and a red film kept clogging the face plate and being snatched away by the escaping air. Then as he realized he could no longer stand the agony, he felt himself grabbed under the shoulders, hoisted up, shoved into a small dark space and felt through his fingers the clang of a metal door. There came a hissing noise, and as consciousness at last oozed away from him, he knew that they had reached the air lock of the Soviet rocket and that his ordeal was over. _17. Moon Calling Earth_ The impression of a damp cloth moving gently over his face was Robin's first sensation on recovering his senses. He opened his eyes to find Peter leaning over him, carefully mopping away the soreness from his nose and face. Robin's eyes hurt and he blinked several times, each time feeling their rawness. "Easy does it," said Peter, smiling. "Your eyes are very bloodshot, but fortunately there's no real damage. You couldn't have been exposed to the outside for more than a few seconds. Nosebleed's stopped, too." Robin raised his head, feeling a little dizzy and weak at first. He was lying in a hammock slung across the narrow space of the rocket's tiny cabin. He took in the limited quarters slowly, while flexing his muscles to discover other points of sensitivity. His clothing had been removed, the tight bandaging unwrapped. He was wearing some sort of loose aviation coverall that his brother had dressed him in. "Have I been out long?" Robin asked, rising to a sitting position. "Maybe a half-hour," said his brother. "Mostly shock and overexertion, I guess. You've got some bruises on your shins and feet, but nothing that should stop you. Feel like some hot food? Real Earth food?" Robin was suddenly hungry and the memories of a hundred forgotten foods flooded his senses. He nodded, and greedily attacked the full mess kit that his brother had been heating. It contained merely some sort of frankfurter, some canned potato, a chunk of black bread, and a cup of something that must have been condensed cabbage soup ... but to Robin it was the best banquet he'd had in many months. For the first time he ate meat that wasn't rabbit or a Moon creature, vegetable that wasn't Moontree fruit. His tongue reveled in the flavors. A glass of hot tea was the final sensation. Refreshed, he looked around. The little cabin, occupying the entire nose of the rocket, must have been a tight squeeze indeed for a three-man crew. The controls and the pilot's seat occupied a good section of it. There was space for only two hammocks, which were obviously not to be spread out except when taking off or sleeping, and Peter was rolling up the one in which Robin had been resting. There was a built-in electric grid, a nozzle from which water was piped, a large number of observational and recording instruments, a couple of folding seats, nothing much else. Several thick glass bull's-eye windows were set in a circle around the nose, at a level with the pilot's eyes. Light came from one large electric bulb hanging in the nose of the ship. The whole cabin was tilted over at an angle, the result of the crash. "I'm surprised that everything is in such good condition," said Robin. "I had expected to see a complete ruin." "Well," said Peter, "I've got to admit that Von Borck was definitely a good pilot. The crash was probably not his fault. We were actually not supposed to land. Our orders were to try to circle the Moon in a narrow orbit, then return. We were to land only if Von Borck was sure he could do it and get away again. "What happened though was that after we had crossed the dividing line in space where the Moon's pull equaled the Earth's pull, our gyroscopic controls jammed. Von Borck couldn't turn the rockets in our rear to the indicated direction. We struggled with the gyro for about forty minutes, even going outside to get at the airless tube section beneath this sealed cabin. When we finally got the controls operating, it was far too late to attempt to establish an orbit. Instead, Von Borck did the next best thing--he decided to attempt a direct landing. He reversed the rocket entirely, slowed us down and came down in an effort to land on his jets. It's a very difficult balancing trick, especially on an unknown landing field with uncertain distances. "Actually he almost succeeded. He came down just a little too fast, smashed up our tubes, rammed the whole rear down into the pumice-and-dust surface, leaving our nose cabin sticking out unharmed. Von Borck slammed his head against the metal paneling. I took a spill, and Arkady who had volunteered to stand at the opposite observation port from the pilot in order to inform him of any dangers from that side was thrown across the room and killed." Robin nodded slowly. "But why didn't you just stay here instead of going out?" Peter went to a wall cabin, opened it. Inside there were about a half-dozen small containers and cans. "That's the whole stock of food we have left," was the reply. "We couldn't have stayed here too long. When I looked around outside I saw mist issuing from that spot in the cliff we came through. Obviously we'd die if we didn't find some place to stay. I went outside, buried Arkady, explored a little, realized that that rill out there was a sealed cleft which probably held air. So I loaded Von Borck, who had been unconscious for hours, and set out to go underground." Robin got up, walked around. He was already in better shape. He looked at the panels, found them complex and with the markings in Russian. "What's the source of the electricity?" he asked. "There's an atomic pile somewhere in the rear of the rocket," Peter replied. "That's something you don't smash easily. It's still operating." "Can we send a message back to Earth then?" asked Robin. "If we've the power, and this ship must have a radio...." "We tried that, but the radio was smashed in the landing. However, there is an emergency wave sender which was designed for just such a thing. I don't know if that's working. Let's see." Peter opened a door set in the floor of the rocket which opened on an area jammed with equipment, wiring, and extra supplies. He reached around, extracted a small black box. He held it up, shook it gently. Handing it to Robin, he took out a roll of wire, and seating himself at the pilot's seat began to connect the box to the rocket. When it was plugged in to the electric system of the cabin, Peter flicked a switch and turned a knob. A thin humming came from the box. "It works," he said. "This gives off a steady signal wave going on the general air-travel band. The radio buzz can be heard from Earth if it's being sought. By following it, astronomers can trace exactly where this rocket is. All we have to do is leave this on--it will run for years on our atomic power source. Eventually, rockets will locate us." "But surely there must be some way of calling their attention even sooner?" said Robin. "Do you have flares?" "You're right," Peter said excitedly. "We've got them. And it is night outside. If we use our flares, they could be seen on any decent-sized telescope. Shall we set them off?" Robin nodded. "No time like now." Peter reached again into the floor storages, opening another section, and began to pull out another space suit. "This was Arkady's," he said. "It should fit you." It did. This time, Robin felt none of the uneasiness that had assailed him on his previous experience on the outside. In a few minutes, he and Peter were standing a short distance away from the rocket and setting out the flares. Although the suit was cumbersome, it was not too uncomfortable. Instead of tight bandaging, the fabric of the suit consisted of some sort of self-inflating air sacs, which maintained an equal and natural pressure on the surface of Robin's body. The helmet, which was really airtight and warmed, was entirely comfortable, although again the breathing was a matter of a forced intake and a willful exhalation. They set up the flares, which were magnesium-burning giant candles, a safe distance from the rocket, wired them to a detonator powered from the ship. Then, before going back, Robin and Peter simply stood and looked around. All about, the giant bare mountains ringed the crater. Their gaunt, jagged outlines were a black ring against which was set the star-strewn wonder of the sky, in whose exact center slowly rotated the marvelous globe of Mother Earth. The eerie Earthlight threw odd shadows and dark spots across the grayness of the plain. Here and there the mysterious-looking domes rose, the tops of bubbles as Robin had reason to know. In other places smaller craters and ringed ridges broke the surface. "It looks desolate and barren," commented Peter on the helmet-radio. "Yet, you know, when we landed in the sunlight of the Moon's day, it wasn't all like this. There were patches of low scrubby plants growing in the lowest sections near spots where some air must have been seeping out. This crater is considerably lower than much of the surrounding areas on this central part of the Moon. The air here may be almost unnoticeable, but it is still just a bit denser even than it must be on the 'seas' beyond these crater walls." "How did you spot that break in the wall we came through?" asked Robin, turning to search for it. "As a matter of fact, it was quite obvious," said his brother. "In the sunlight, there's a distinct stream of vapor coming out of it and a lot of frozen water vapor all around. Further, it was just there that the green vegetation was growing thickest. It was quite inviting to a man looking for refuge ... otherwise I'd probably never have thought of it." They trudged back to the rocket, climbed through the lock into the safety of the tiny cabin. Robin set the firing pin of the detonator switch, looked out. "It's the Western Hemisphere that's facing the Moon now," he said. "Just coming into view. Must be early morning around the New Mexico belt. You know, your Russian friends won't see this flare." Peter looked up, shrugged. "We can fire another flare twelve hours later," he said. "I am not particular who rescues us. I am an American, you know. I owe something to the Soviets too. When you look at the world from here, from another planet, these distinctions of nationality seem so--somehow--unimportant. We are all humans, all from the same ancestors. Even if we were not brothers, we would feel ourselves such. Our roots go to all parts of the world. If you add up all people's ancestors a hundred generations back, you will realize that there can't be anyone who is not distantly related to everyone else--that we all share somebody in our ancestry who lived in every country of the world, shared all the histories of the past and all the different politics and opinions." Peter grew quiet, as if a little amazed at his own outburst. Robin drew close to him, threw an arm around him. "I think when more men get out among the stars, people are going to realize that we can't afford to think of ourselves as anything other than citizens of Mother Earth. In the face of the universe, of Moonmen, of the inhabitants of the millions of other planets that must exist, our national differences seem so small, so much a private family matter as not to be thrashed out in the public of our interstellar neighbors. I think it's good we are brothers. All men are brothers." Robin threw the switch. Outside, the crater suddenly lighted up in a blinding white glare, a blaze that threw wild, dancing black shadows several miles across the floor, that momentarily lighted the great crags and precipices of the mountains, that made an outburst of grandeur in a moonscape of unearthly terror and beauty. Five minutes later, when the flares had died down, Robin again threw the switch. The second set of magnesium bombs went off and again the crater was brilliantly lighted. "On Earth that should stand out very sharply. It is nearly a new moon for them. This spot of light will be like a blinding diamond on a black velvet setting," said Peter poetically. They rested now, taking their space suits off, lolling around on two hammocks, just talking, renewing acquaintance, exchanging experiences. They ate another meal, slept, finally donned their outfits again and set off the next set of flares a half Earth-day later, when the massive area of Eurasia was on the face of the globe in the Lunar sky. "Now the Russian observers have had a chance to see us," said Peter. "We ought to go back to the underground world again. Our supplies here are not enough. In order to eat and breathe the next few months, we will have to live among the Glassies. We have to go back to the great cleft again." "Yes," said Robin. "And that brings up the question of Von Borck. He'll be waiting for us, you know." His brother nodded. "Ah, but this time we will be the ones who are armed and ready." He reached down, took out a second gun belt, handed it to Robin. "Use this. Strap it around your space suit." Robin looked at it, lifted the pistol in its holster. "It's an army automatic," said Peter. "A Tokarev .30, built much the same as an American Colt. Here, I'll show you how it works." He cautioned about the lack of a safety catch, showed how to load the clip of bullets. "Be careful of it, though. It has a strong kickback on Earth--here on the Moon, it may be quite tricky to fire a gun." They dressed again in their outfits, loaded on other supplies that might come in handy, including a light carbine, hunting knife and axe, and waterproof pack of matches. They slung the gun belts around their waists, tied the nylon cord to each other as an added precaution, and made a last check of the rocket cabin. The little radio signal was still humming. Some day it would bring a rescue ship. Whether that would be a matter of months or a matter of years was the only question. Robin gulped a bit at the prospect of spending more years away from his own world. Sight of Earth, the taste of real food had made him quite homesick. He thrust such thoughts away, snapped tight his helmet plate, and nodded to Peter. They climbed out of the rocket, sealing the air-lock door. They stood for a moment outside the wreck, taking their bearings. They turned to head for the cliff wall, when something went _ping_ off a metal fixture on Robin's helmet. He started, pulled back and something seemed to flick past his eyes and pop against the side of the rocket. He yelled and ducked for cover. "Look out, Peter! Get down!" Standing on the surface, just outside the narrow crack that led underground, was the figure of a man--a man wearing a space suit similar to theirs, with a small dark object in his hand which issued a little flash of red fire. "It's Von Borck," gasped Robin, "and he's shooting at us!" _18. Madman's Battle_ Robin lay flat against the ground, holding himself motionless. Peter's voice came over his helmet-radio. "Did you get hit?" "No," said Robin. "Something may have chipped my helmet but there's no leak, so I guess it wasn't a direct shot. How about you? Where are you?" From his position he couldn't see his brother, who had obviously fallen somewhere near. "I'm down just behind you," came Peter's voice. "We'll have to find better cover than this. There's a slight ridge about a foot high a couple of yards to your left. Crawl over to it and get behind it." Robin cautiously raised his head. It drew no fire and he realized that lying down in the darkness of the gray surface, the greenish Earthlight was not sufficient to outline him to Von Borck's eyes. He eased up on his arms and crawled slowly to the ridge. Behind this was a measure of protection. He was now free to twist his body around to look for Peter. In the cumbersome helmet and suit, the only way he could look around was to move his whole body. Peter was crawling after him slowly. There was a sudden spurt of dust from the ground just behind him, like a tiny geyser. "Von's still shooting at you," said Robin. "Hurry!" Peter slid quickly into refuge behind the ridge at Robin's side. Twisting his body, he unstrapped the light carbine rifle from his back, brought it around in front of him. "Have you ever fired a rifle or a pistol, Robin?" he asked. "I learned some target shooting at school," said Robin. "I was a pretty fair shot. But I never handled a revolver." Peter slid the rifle over to him. "Then you use this. I'll use my pistol. We'll have to get him before he gets us." Robin held the rifle awkwardly. He glanced at it, saw that it was loaded, slid the bolt action. "I don't like this," he said. "If there was only some way we could capture him and hold him until we're rescued. You said he's a good man with rockets. Maybe he can be straightened out mentally if we can get him back to Earth." Peter shrugged, grunted. "Don't waste time dreaming. Sure he was a good engineer. But right now it's him or us. If he has his way, none of us will ever return to Earth alive. Just remember he's doing his very best to kill us--we cannot dare do any less. Sure, if we get a break, we'll capture him. Right now, though, we'd better shoot him or we'll never get out of this alive." Peter suited his action to his words. He clumsily forced his thickly gloved finger through the trigger guard and grasped the pistol. He swiftly raised up, aimed, and pulled the trigger. There was a flash of red and simultaneously Peter fell over backward and rolled over once with a yell of pain. Robin turned, stricken with horror. "What happened! Are you hit?" Peter's voice came back. "No, I'm not hit, but I almost wrenched my arm off! It was the gun's recoil, the kick! I completely forgot what a terribly strong recoil a pistol would have on the Moon. It was like holding a rocket engine in my hand for a split second. It simply hurled me right over." Peter rolled himself over on his chest, resuming his position next to Robin. "We'll have to be careful when we fire. Remember the kick will be many times stronger than back on Earth." There was another spurt of dust to one side of them. Another evidence of Von Borck's shooting. Possibly he had caught a glimpse of Peter's scramble. Robin slid the rifle out in front of him, cocked it for firing. He crawled to a break in the ridge, propped the butt of the gun against a small outcropping of rock along the surface, rolled himself clumsily into position. Raising his head, he saw the figure of Von Borck still standing against the narrow entrance to the wall. He aimed the rifle as well as he was able under the handicaps, pressed it hard, and pulled the trigger. He felt a sharp shock as the rifle tried to kick out of his hands, but he had bolstered it well. He saw a chunk of rock split from the cliffside just over the German's head. Von Borck ducked as the dust began to fall upon him in its slow Lunar fashion, then the German moved back into the break. Robin again aimed the rifle, this time directly at the dark center of the break in the cliff. Again he fired. This time the figure of the space-suited man backed out of sight entirely. "What now?" asked Robin. "Shall we wait for him to come back or shall we try to follow him?" "Better take the chance and go after him," said his brother's voice. "Must follow up every advantage." "Then let's go," said Robin and leaped to his feet. Peter jumped up with him and they both started to sprint for the entrance in the cliff. They ran for it in low, swift leaps, and this time Robin saw what ease and fun running on the Moon's surface could be if you had the proper outfit for it. It was so light and easy, like running in a dream, gliding rapidly over the faintly lighted eerie moonscape in a world of absolute silence and motionlessness. For an instant, as they closed in on the cliff, Robin saw Von Borck's figure appear, there was another flash of red and then the man vanished again. But the boys did not halt. Together they charged the entrance. In a matter of seconds, they reached it, blocked it. There was no sign of the German. They shone their flashlamps into the channel behind the opening. There was nothing. Robin could feel the faint rustling movement of the rushing air current, but he could see nothing in motion. Again he was struck by the weirdness of the phenomenon. "Where'd he go?" he whispered, even though his voice could not be heard outside of their helmets. "He's probably hiding somewhere. We'll have to follow him. Get ready and then remember to throw yourself hard across that air blast. It's strong." Peter checked the nylon that tied them together. "Shall I untie this or shall we jump together?" "Let's go together," said Robin. They held hands, and, backing up, took a running start and threw themselves into the darkness of the break. There was again the buffeting of a powerful wind, and Robin felt himself being caught off his feet by the force of a hurricane. Before he could be swept away, a jerk at the cord around his waist threw him down, and he rolled over on the windless far side of the tunnel, safe with Peter. He became aware of outside noises. He followed Peter's example and opened the plate of his helmet. For an instant he gasped for air, then adjusted to the thin atmosphere. Both brothers listened. But they heard nothing. "He must have headed back for the cleft," said Peter. "We'll have to follow him." They started to retrace their tracks. Partly down the wind tunnel they found the downward slope on which they had traveled before. Robin flashed his lamp down its steep pitch. He saw nothing. Gingerly he began to work his way cautiously down the sharp slope. Peter followed behind. Halfway down, Robin stopped for breath. When he caught it, he whispered, "I just thought of something. How do we know Von went down here? Maybe he's gone farther up the tunnel, waiting to slip back and get behind us." "I don't think so," said Peter. "I looked in the dust up along the tunnel for his footprints and saw none. He must be ahead of us." They slid on down the slope, found themselves at the beginning of the upper series of connected broken bubbles. Along this they trekked, passing along the debris-strewn floor, picking their way carefully. Shining their lamps ahead as they went, they saw no sign of motion. Finally they came to the hole in the floor, through which they would have to drop several feet into the cave below. Robin switched off his light as they approached it, whispered to Peter to do the same. They stood silently in the pitch darkness. Then Robin nudged Peter, pointed with his hand against Peter's. The hole in the floor was faintly visible. There was a dim flickering coming from it. Robin whispered, "It must be Von's flashlamp. He's down there, waiting for us." Peter nodded in the darkness. "It was the logical spot. He probably hopes to shoot us as we drop through the hole." The two stepped carefully up to the hole, not yet using their lights. They kneeled down, looked. The cave below was almost dark. But from just outside it, from the tunnel that led into it, was a flickering light. Their crazed enemy was lurking there, waiting. "What do we do now?" muttered Peter. Robin looked carefully. "I think I have it. Untie the cord and give it to me." Peter untied his end of the nylon rope that linked them. Robin undid his end, took his flashlamp, tied it to the cord. He whispered his plan to Peter. Robin lit the flash, backed away from the hole several feet, and then kicked some rocks and began to make a clattering noise. At the same time he began to talk loudly, as if conversing with Peter. Meanwhile, Peter was crouched at the edge of the hole, his Tokarev automatic firmly wedged against one side of the hole while it was pointing directly at the faint spot of light below which Von Borck was hiding. Robin reached the hole, making sure he was creating enough noise for the rocket pilot to hear him. Then he waved his lamp a few times, flickering it around the cave below, and kneeling down, began to lower it on the cord, trying to keep its beam pointed at the tunnel in which their foe waited. This was the bait on their trap. Just as he had expected, as the swinging lamp was about halfway down, dangling presumably in the helpless hand of a man being lowered to the floor--as Von Borck was supposed to think--the figure of the German appeared in the cave, uttering a wild yell of triumph and aiming a big pistol at the moving light. Two guns went off at the same instant. There were two flashes of fire, two deafening blasts of sound. Von Borck's bullet shattered the swinging flashlamp, blew it into a dozen fragments. Peter's bullet struck Von Borck in the chest, hurling him against the wall to fall in a heap on the floor. Without wasting time, Peter simply stepped into the hole and drifted downward in the low force of Moon gravity. Robin followed suit. They leaned over the German's body. Robin looked at the pale, mustached face, the staring eyes. "I think he's dead," he said. "Though he could be only unconscious." He reached over, started to feel the man's face to find out whether he still breathed. "Look out!" shouted Peter suddenly and grabbed Robin, pulling him to one side. Robin looked up and back. Above him, with maddening leisureliness, the entire ceiling of the underground bubble was dropping down, dropping in several giant chunks, several Earth tons of rock falling toward them. With a mad scramble the two leaped to safety in the tunnel leading downward. There was a slow grinding crash as the shattered roof of the cave settled to the floor, crushing the body beneath it, blocking and sealing the tunnel. "Come on!" Peter grabbed Robin's arm. "The rest of it is caving in! We'd better run!" They dashed down the tunnel, as it crashed behind them. On they ran, following the twisted trail through fault and cleft and bubble, with disaster following their steps. Finally the ruin and destruction came to an end as they reached the last steep slope downward to the great sealed cleft. "What happened?" asked Robin, as they paused at last to catch their breath. "The explosions!" gasped Peter. "The concussions of our pistols shattered the delicate balance of the honeycomb undersurface here. We're lucky it didn't all come down at once, rather than in the form of a chain reaction. We're lucky to be alive, believe me!" "Yes," said Robin, beginning to make his way down the last tunnel that led to the open ledge of the great bubble-world where the Glassies lived. "Yes, we're lucky to be alive, but how will we ever get back to the surface now? We're sealed in. Maybe forever." Peter was silent as they reached the ledge, looked into the vastness of the cleft-world, saw the faint flickering lights of Moonworm and Moonman. "Maybe we'll never get out. Robinson Crusoe lived twenty-eight years on his island before he was rescued. It may be fifty before they find us in here." Robin shrugged. "When I first landed here, I said to myself that while there's life there's hope. Now there are two of us. And that's an advance...." _19. Riding the Tornado_ They looked down from their point on the high ledge into the length of the cleft-world. A very faint light streak could be seen looking upward--this was the curious volcanic glass of the surface roof. Through it penetrated just a hint of the full Earthlight that bathed the outer moonscape. Down were shadows and darkness, in the distance little bits of moving lights, flickering sparks, that may have been the Glassies' head-stalks. The two men used their remaining flashlamp to light up the narrow ledge. Carefully they made their way down the steep side of the cavern wall, their light swinging slowly back and forth. "Suppose the Glassies see the light?" said Peter. "We may be in for trouble." "Maybe," said Robin, "but this time we'll be alert for it. We'll have to steer clear of overhanging spots, keep our light swinging about, but I have an idea we'll have no trouble. That bomb and the shooting will probably make them keep their distance." Down they went until they reached the level surface. Then they started off across the space to the faraway place where the lights could be seen. It was the winter half-month now for the sublunar world. The Moon growths had fallen, shriveled, died. Their seeds lay dormant for the next sun period. It was fairly chilly in the cavern, yet not as cold as it might have been. Somewhere, thought Robin, there is a warm volcanic current keeping this cavern from freezing over. They kept a good distance between each other, the long, thin, strong cord linking them being kept almost taut. The reasoning behind this was that if another lassoing attempt were made, it would be almost impossible to get both at once. As long as one were free to get at his firearms, they could overcome such an attack. On they went, with still no sign of meeting any opposition. Then Robin saw a sudden faint flicker in a clump of darkness to one side. He stopped, whispered into his helmet-radio what he had seen. Rapidly his eyes swept the scene, and, yes, there was another suddenly doused flicker on the other side. The Glassies must be watching them, waiting. Now the two proceeded at a slow pace, widely swinging their light from side to side to prevent ambush. "Somehow," said Robin, "we are going to have to prove we're friendly. We may have to live here a long time." "Yes," said Peter, "but how?" They walked only a few steps farther before the answer was given them. Something was standing directly in their path. As their light swung near it, this figure raised two hands high and its head-stalk light flashed into brilliant prominence. It was a Glassie standing there, a transparent-bodied Moonman whose odd face bore the equivalent of a broad smile and whose chest was decorated with a painted black circle. Robin stared at the figure of this chief a moment. He saw something move on the Glassie's shoulder--a tiny, dark, manlike creature no bigger than a doll. This creature opened its mouth, uttered a sharp shriek. "Cheeky!" gasped Robin. And at the sound of his voice the little monkey leaped from the Glassie's shoulder in one monstrous Lunar bound and arrived at Robin's foot. Another jump and it was in Robin's arms, screeching with joy. The Glassie chief came forward. It spoke, "Robin! Good see you. Good see you." It was Korree! Now he too moved forward to grasp Robin awkwardly but happily ... Korree wearing the marking of the tribal head! Now other Glassies appeared around them, but they held no weapons in their hands, no sticky hoops or bindings. They stood around the newcomers with awe and uncertainty--willing to be guided by Korree's actions but aware of the possible results of an encounter with space-suited Earthlings. Korree turned a moment, waved them on, speaking in their tongue. Peter came up, nodding, shoving his pistol back into its holster. "I see your two friends have won the day while we were up above," he said. "They were indeed friends." The two brothers were escorted back to the site of the native settlement in a crowd of bobbing head-stalk lights and jabbering Glassies. Korree explained as they walked. It seemed that the explosion of the homemade bomb had completely disrupted the fear in which Von Borck had held the Glassies. This was greater magic to them, and it was the mysterious little being--Cheeky--who had accomplished it. In the first excitement, the Glassies had fled and hid. That was when the German had come after Peter and Robin, leaving the Glassies behind. This, too, was an indication that even the powerful stranger who had usurped the role of chief by the expedient of his mere existence and strength had bowed to the power of the little monkey. In Moonman tribes, the chief never fled the scene of his authority. To do so was to abdicate it. Von Borck had unknowingly destroyed his authority by his abrupt chase after Robin and Peter. When Korree made his way back to the cave-village after giving up his attempt to follow his Earthling friends, he had arrived to find the Glassies cowering in fear of the capering Cheeky, who was unhurt by the blast. Korree had gathered up Cheeky in his arms and by so doing had made himself the master of the situation. That was how it came about that the two brothers had been met by a friendly admiring reception rather than a hostile one. "But what happened when Von Borck returned here to get his space suit?" asked Robin. Korree waved a hand as if the answer was obvious. "Glassies hide," he said simply. "Korree hide. Cheeky hide. Everyone hide." And so Von Borck arrived to find himself deserted and unwelcome. And he had promptly left to follow the trail to the surface. Once back at the site of the caves, they found themselves honored guests. In the days that followed, they set up a cave for themselves, organized a home. Cheeky seemed to have now attached himself to Korree and went everywhere with the Glassie. Robin and Peter rested, set up a regimen of native food, observed the Glassies' way of life. The sun came up again on the surface and flooded the cleft with its light. The Moontrees grew rapidly in dense profusion. The two brothers gradually explored the length and breadth of the little world, systematically working around it in search of some new path upward. But their search seemed fruitless. There were a number of holes and breaks in the walls and caves, but none promised a place of exit to the surface. They went back to the original ledge and tunnel, tried to work their way in, but it was blocked with fallen stone and jammed too tightly for passage. They discussed the possibility of making explosives, blasting through, but discarded this as they realized the basic fragility of the whole cleft setup. Such blastings might do worse damage, might even crack a direct opening to the surface through which the air within the cleft-bubble would rush out, leaving it a sterile, cold, and dead region. Finally after another Lunar night and another Lunar day, exhausting still one more Earth month, they settled down to a slow steady picking and shoveling. They worked in the blocked tunnel in all their spare time, carefully picking away chips of rock, pushing others aside, burrowing around fallen slabs, slowly, gradually, painfully working their way along the old path. But it was hard and unrewarding work. It went slowly and they were always afraid of a cave-in. Two or three times such an event did occur, and had it not been for the slowness with which things fell on the Moon, one or the other brother would surely have been pinned down. On the third such disaster, the two quit the task, returned to their home in the Glassie village discouraged. "This will not work," said Robin. "We'll have to give up this entire approach. It would be months or even years before we could make our entire way and by that time one of us would surely be killed in the tunnels. They are still highly unsettled, still shifting." They sat down, looked at each other. "There must still be a way," said Peter. "We must find a way to reach the surface. Otherwise we will remain here forever." Robin nodded, deep in thought. Another night was coming over the cleft. The sun was passing swiftly from overhead. A chill began to touch the air, as darkness blacked out the cavern. It would be another two weeks before they could resume any work on their problem. Robin started to build a fire in their cave, one they burned every Moon winter's night. As he did so a thought struck him. He turned. "When we were first returning from the surface it occurred to me as we came out that there had to be some sort of volcanic current warming this cavern, sun or no sun. Now it seems to me that if we could find that current, we would find some sort of air stream or water stream, that must go upward. We ought to look for the warmest spot in the cavern, trace it." Peter turned, a sharp light in his eye. "And now that you say it, do you know what that current is? It's the one that passes the break in the crater wall--the constant hurricane that we broke through to get in here, which rushes by the break so hard and so fast that it seals this cavern's quiet inner air as perfectly as if it were an air lock. It has to be that very current which passes somewhere lower down and warms this cleft!" Robin nodded, a sharp excitement stirring him. "I think we have hit on it. The night time is the time to hunt for it. Find the spot or places in this cleft that stay warmest and they must be nearest the underground wind tunnel." So they set out on a new course of exploration, this time scouting the bubble in the dark of the night. It grew chillier, but in their space suits, which they had resumed for this expedition, they could keep warm. They found several areas along the ground where it seemed a bit warmer than in the cave generally, but after several days of search, this clue also seemed fruitless. The areas were such that no amount of digging short of high explosives would suffice. Finally when the long Lunar night was almost over, they awakened from sleep in the cave to face the thought that this too was a blind alley. Korree entered, the monkey on his shoulder. He made his way to them, noticed their air of sadness, asked them why. Tired, Robin explained to him what they were looking for. His Glassie friend cocked his head. "You come my home. I show you hot spot," he said. The two men looked up. "What?" asked Peter. Korree repeated his statement. Peter looked at Robin quizzically. Without another word the two got up and followed the Glassie. The deep cave where the chief made his home was only a short distance from their own. Here, at the very back of the chief's home, they found what they sought. There was a thin, sharp crack in the rear wall. The stone around it was definitely warmer than that in the rest of the cave. Putting their ears to the crack, they could hear the faint high whistling of the air current that must be roaring past only a foot or two beyond. "This is why it was picked as the chief's cave," said Robin. "It's practically air-conditioned!" The next day, after the sun had finally made its appearance, the two started to work in the back of Korree's cave. They worked carefully with axe and pick, enlarging the crack, chipping away at it. Finally, they dislodged a sizable segment of rock, enough to allow one man to squeeze through. Sure enough, there was a dark underground channel through whose center rushed the eternal current of hot volcanic air. This channel probably had its source somewhere in the still-mysterious depths of the Moon's core. It wound and forced its way upward doubtless to dissipate somewhere, as the cold of the surface bore away its warmth, probably to wind up downward again as a mass of cold gas. There was barely enough room at the side of the tunnel for a man to stand flat against the wall, without touching the blast. Robin, who had gone through to examine it, came back out into the light of Korree's cave. "Well," he asked Peter, "what do we do now?" His brother nodded. "I think we can get to the surface all right. Just get in the blast and let ourselves be blown along upward. When we find that break, we'll get out of the current and we'll be able to reach our rocket." "Uh huh," said Robin, "and then how do we get back down here again?" Peter shrugged. "I don't know. There must be a way." The two returned to their own place and talked it over. But the opportunity was too good to pass up. "Sooner or later," said Robin, "we're going to do it. So we may as well face that. As for getting back, perhaps we could simply walk all the way down the channel, keeping carefully to the side of dead air just beyond the blast." Peter frowned. "I don't think you'll find much of that. There can't be many places where such a dead air channel exists. On the other hand, if we attack the problem of returning by the old route, we may be able to find a way through it from that end--or make a new one. Back at the rocket there are explosives, better tools than those we have. I think we should risk it." "Yes," Robin added, "I think so too. Besides, we ought to fire off some more flares. Our signals may never have been seen." That being settled, the two Earthlings again donned their space suits, equipped themselves, tied themselves together with a length of cord. They returned to Korree's cave, explained their project and gravely shook hands with their Glassie friend. Then Robin carefully eased himself through the break into the dark channel. Peter squeezed through after him, as Robin flattened himself along the wall and moved aside. Their helmets sealed, Robin counted to three, and then both leaped forward. Instantly the racing wind current caught them up, snatched them off their feet. They found themselves being blown madly along the darkness like leaves before a gale. The air was hot and Robin felt himself almost scorched as he was hurled along, his elbows and legs occasionally scraping the wall, once feeling himself somersaulting upward, twisting and turning in the horrible blast. For a dreadful moment he felt panicky, out of control, utterly helpless in the grip of the underground tornado. He lighted the flash, saw it wildly flickering. He drew his legs up, ducked his head, and found he could get his equilibrium. Ahead of him the tunnel was ascending. He felt himself rising, felt the slight drag occasionally at his belt as Peter's bouncing body followed his. Now the air began to cool and seemed to slow down slightly. The passage leveled off, he was whirling down a straight passage, and suddenly, in a split second of awareness, he saw a faint spot of bright light ahead of him. He rushed toward it, like a ball buoyed on a stream from a fire hose. It must be the exit to the surface, he thought, and in a second held out the axe he gripped in his hand. The handle caught at the opening as he went sailing by, jammed, swung his body against the wall with a smack. Peter's body flashed past, caught up short by the cord, and also hit the body of airless space on the outer side of the channel. They climbed dazedly to their feet and struggled to the narrow break. They staggered out onto the surface, now bathed in the blindingly brilliant light of the sun rising over the peaks of the farther mountains ringing the crater. Around them were the first shoots of the stubborn and hardy surface vegetation in this crater, dwarfed cousins of the plants below. They caught their breath. "Better get moving," said Peter finally. "This sun is dangerous." They started across the floor of the crater, the several hundred feet to where the nose of the wrecked Russian rocket rested. Both men knew they were bruised from the short, mad trip. There would be scraped shins and knees and elbows. But they had made it, that was the thing. They were about a hundred feet out, when suddenly Robin stopped, stared into the sky. Peter followed his glance. There was something up there. When they had first glanced up, there was the Earth still in its place, though now but a crescent. There were the myriad stars, and the corona-encircled sun. And now there was another celestial object. A tiny spot of reddish orange was growing in the sky, growing as they watched it. "What is it?" asked Robin in a half whisper, afraid to venture the thought that was rioting around in his head. Peter simply stared, transfixed. The moving spot of fire grew rapidly, enlarged, took shape. It was a tiny stream of energy, like the tail of a tiny comet. It came still closer. Now they could see a flash of white and silver at its core, and still it drew closer. Now it took definite shape, a tiny body of metal and paint riding down on a long stream of atomic fire! Then in mere seconds it hung over them, no longer tiny but a giant tower of polished metal hanging over the crater floor, falling ever more slowly, its great column of rocket fire reaching and scorching the surface of the rock. And suddenly, the fire was gone, there was a faint thud felt through the ground, and the two brothers stood staring. Out there, not very distant, was standing a glorious, tall, slender rocket ship, fresh with paint, beautifully and delicately balanced on finely tapered fins, graceful as only a space craft can be. On its side, clearly visible in the sunlight, was a large blue circle on which was superimposed the white star of the United States Air Force. There were numbers and things and a small, black air lock now opening near the nose of the rocket, but Robin and Peter hardly noticed these through the tears of joy that sprang to their eyes as they ran and bounded over the Moon's surface to greet their rescuers. Waving their hands, shouting, heedless of whether they were being heard, they were Robinson Crusoes no longer. They were on their way home. _ABOUT THE AUTHOR_ Donald A. Wollheim, born in 1914, has lived in New York City all his life. At first a free-lance writer of stories and articles mainly for science-fiction magazines, he began his career as editor in 1940. He has edited all kinds of magazines, including detective, sports, and western periodicals. In 1952, Mr. Wollheim was invited to launch Ace Books and has since held the position of editor of these paperbacks. Science fiction is Mr. Wollheim's chief interest and hobby. His collection of science-fiction books and magazines is one of the largest and his list of published books is a long one. Many distinguished anthologies of fantasy and science fiction bear his name as editor. Among his most recent books of original fiction are _The Secret of Saturn's Rings_ and _The Secret of the Martian Moons_. 
23117	----	The Island Home, the Adventures of six Young Crusoes, by Richard Archer. ________________________________________________________________________ This book should be a bit more of a classic than it actually is. It is thought that Ballantyne used it as the inspiration for his famous "The Coral Island", for there is good evidence for it. In the 1830s the Washington left New York, the passengers including some of the young members of the owners' families and some of their friends. Destination Canton via the Straits of Magellan. Crossing the Pacific, they land on various of the islands, such as those in the Fiji and Kingsmill Groups. Sometimes they encountered particularly nasty inhabitants. One day they were on the beach of an island, when it became necessary for the Washington to up anchors and away, leaving the shore party with the ship's boat. Murders occur among the seamen. The boys set sail in the boat, hoping to regain contact with some vessel, but never do. The rest of the book is a story of survival, and of the good humour of the boys. The real problem with the book is the long paragraphs of description which nowadays would be much shorter or omitted altogether, but it was written in the 1850s, and it was Ballantyne's luck that he was able to write a book along the same lines but far easier to read. Still, it's worth a quick skim, if nothing more. Your reviewer has listened to the book several times, and enjoyed it each time. ________________________________________________________________________ THE ISLAND HOME, THE ADVENTURES OF SIX YOUNG CRUSOES, BY RICHARD ARCHER. CHAPTER ONE. INTRODUCTION. "A wet sheet and a flowing sea, A breeze that follows fast, That fills the white and rustling sail, And bends the gallant mast. And bends the gallant mast, my boys, Our good ship sound and free, The hollow oak our palace is, Our heritage the sea." It is now some twenty years ago, that the goodly ship Washington, commanded by Mr Erskine, left the port of New York, on a trading voyage to the East Indian archipelago. With a select few good seamen, the owners had also placed on board some youths of their own families and immediate connections. Having passed through the Straits of Magellan in safety, they were then on their way to Canton, where the young men were to be settled; and meanwhile the ship was to visit any of the isles in the Pacific Ocean that lay in their path. After some little delay on the part of the captain among the numerous groups of isles, the purpose of the voyage was frustrated by the events narrated in the volume. The extreme beauty of the wild loveliness of nature that these islets exhibited, tempted the young men, accompanied by Mr Frazer, one of the officers, to land on one that presented great charms of scenery, as well as having a convenient and easily accessible landing-place, and from that point the narrative commences. It is not necessary for the elucidation of the narrative, to name more of the crew than those whose adventures are hereafter related by one of the party. The names of these castaways were John Browne, the son of a Glasgow merchant; William Morton, and Maximilian Adeler, of New York; Richard Archer, from Connecticut, the journalist; John Livingstone, from Massachusetts; Arthur Hamilton, whose parents had settled at Tahiti; and to them was joined Eiulo, prince of Tewa, in the South-Seas. The narrative commences from the time of the party landing, and although in some parts prolix and unequal, being evidently from an unpractised hand, it bears all the characteristics of a boyish mind, and thus to a certain extent confirms its genuineness. The sayings and doings of the young adventurers are recorded with the minuteness that to older heads seems tedious. This disposition to dwell upon, and to attach importance to things comparatively trivial, is peculiar to the youthful mind, and marks that period of freshness, joyousness, and inexperience, when every thing is new, and possesses the power to surprise and to interest. What became of the ship and crew we are not informed; but we may conclude, that insubordination would lead to neglect and carelessness, and that the vessel was wrecked and plundered by the native; and the wretched crew murdered or detained. The South Pacific Ocean abounds with thousands of islands, of a vast many of which we have no account; but those mentioned in these pages appear to be the _Samoas_, the _Kingsmill_, and the _Feejee Groups_ of islands, which lie nearly under the equator, and they are described by Captain Charles Wilkes, in his narrative of the United States Exploring Expedition between the years 1838 and 1842. These islands were all visited by the different vessels engaged in the expedition; many of them appear to be of volcanic formation, others are of coral origin; they are all characterised as possessing an exceedingly fertile soil; they abound with a picturesque beauty of scenery, and luxuriant vegetation, which excites the most painful feelings when we learn, that where nature has bestowed so much bounty, the inhabitants are, it is greatly to be feared, cannibals. In some two or three islands, a solitary white man was found, one of whom, Paddy Connell, (an Irishman, of course), a short, wrinkled old man, with a beard reaching to his middle, in a rich Milesian brogue, related his adventures during a forty years' residence at Ovolan, one of the Feejees. Paddy, with one hundred wives, and forty-eight children, and a vast quantity of other live stock, expressed his content and happiness, and a determination to die on the island. In other cases, the white men expressed an earnest desire to quit the island, and were received on board the expedition, to the great grief of their wives and connections. The _Samoan Islands_ are of volcanic structure, with coral reefs, and the harbours are generally within these reefs; and one of them was discovered by Commodore Byron in 1765, who reported it as destitute of inhabitants. Their character is variable, and during the winter months they have long and heavy rains, and destructive hurricanes sometimes occur. The air is generally moist, and light winds and calms during the summer, render vegetation luxuriant. The woods in the interior of these islands are very thick, and are composed of large and fine trees; there are pandanus, palms, tree ferns, and a remarkable species of banyan, whose pendant branches take root to the number of thousands, forming steps of all dimensions, uniting to the main trunk, more than eight feet above the ground, and supporting a vast system of horizontal branches, spreading like an umbrella over the tops of other trees. The bread-fruit is the most abundant of all the trees, and grows to a very large size; the cocoa-nut, the wild orange, and the lime, are all to be found. Bamboos, wild sugar-cane, wild nutmeg, besides many others, only require cultivation. Caoutchouc, gum arabic, castor beans, ginger, orris root, and coffee, will in time be added to these productions. Lemons and sweet oranges have already been planted, and promise a large product. Swine are abundant and cattle rapidly increasing. Poultry of all kinds is very plentiful, and fish are taken in abundance. The beneficent effects of missionary labours are very evident amongst the Samoans; they are not now subject to wars, and for crimes they have punishment. Their habits are regular; they rise with the sun, and after a meal, bathe and oil themselves, and then go to their occupations for the day; they eat at one o'clock, and again at eight, retiring to rest about nine. The men do all the hard work, even to cookery. The women are held in much consideration, and are treated with great kindness and attention. They take care of the house and children, prepare the food for cooking, and manufacture the mats, etcetera. Their houses are carefully constructed, generally occupying eighteen months in building; the floor is paved with small round stones, and divisions or separate apartments formed. In some villages, broad walks and paths are kept in nice order. The females generally wear a kind of robe, similar to the poncho of the South Americans; and although not what may be termed pretty, they have some degree of bashfulness, which renders them interesting in appearance; when young, they are but little darker than a brunette, or South American Spaniard. The entire population of the group is estimated at 60,000, of whom more than one-fourth have embraced Christianity, and it is understood that more than two-thirds of the population are favouring the progress of the gospel. Many thousands attend the schools of the missionaries, and the habit of reading is fast obliterating the original religion and superstitions of the race. Of the _Kingsmill Group_, we possess a very sad account; one named Drummond's Island, which is of coral formation, is about thirty miles long, and about three-quarters of a mile in width. The island is covered with cocoa-nut and pandanus trees, but not a patch of grass was seen. The character of these islanders is of the most savage kind; their ferocity led to the belief that they are cannibals; one seaman of the expedition was carried off, and all attempts to rescue him were unavailing. Clad in coats of mail, and helmets made of the skin of a horny kind of fish, with weapons of the most frightful character, formed from the teeth of some of the voracious monsters of the deep, they appeared to the number of more than five hundred, prepared for resistance; their numbers continuing to increase. The officer in command, considered it both useless and dangerous to continue on the land. Failing to procure the desired end, prior to returning, the commanding officer determined to show the power of their arms, and having shot the leader of the savages dead, by a rocket and a volley, set their town, which was close to the beach, in flames; and the houses being formed of easily combustible material, a very short time sufficed to reduce the whole to ashes. The number of houses was supposed to be about three hundred. The people appear to be under no control whatever, and possess little of the characteristic hospitality usually found among other savage tribes. It was observed that their treatment of each other exhibited a great want of feeling; and in many instances their practices were indicative of the lowest state of barbarism. Their young girls are freely offered for sale by their fathers and brothers, and without concealment; and to drive a bargain is the principal object of their visits to a ship. The _Kingsmill Group_, which consists of fifteen islands, are all of coral formation--every one appears a continuous grove of cocoa-nut and pandanus trees--they are all densely inhabited. From one of these islands, John Kirby, a deserter from an English whaler, was taken, who had resided there three years. He stated that the natives do sometimes eat human flesh; but their general food is fish. That these islands have been peopled at a period not very remote is tolerably certain, as the natives state that only a few generations back, the people were fewer than at present, and that then there were no wars. The islanders of this group differ from other Polynesians, and they more nearly resemble the Malays. They are of a dark copper colour, are of middle size, well-made, and slender. Their hair is fine, black, and glossy--their beards and moustaches black, and fine as the hair of their heads. The average height of the men is five feet eight inches. The women are much smaller--they have delicate features, slight figures, and are generally pretty. The _Feejee Group_ excel all other islands of Polynesia in their luxuriant and picturesque beauty--they produce all kinds of tropical fruits and vegetables--the bread-fruit, of which there are nine kinds, flourishes in great perfection; the banana, cocoa-nut, and chestnut, the orange, the lemon, and the guava, the pine-apple, and the nutmeg, are all to be found; and the yam, which attains the length of above four feet, is the principal food of the inhabitants; besides these, the sugar-cane and turmeric are largely cultivated, and different varieties are found growing wild. Although the Feejeeans have made considerable progress in several useful arts, they are in many respects the most barbarous and savage race now existing upon the globe. Having had considerable intercourse with white men, some effect has been produced in their political condition, but it has had no effect in mitigating the ferocity of their character. Messrs. Lythe and Hunt, missionaries at Vuna, one of the Feejees, have given a circumstantial account of a cannibal feast, for the preparation of which they were eye-witnesses. The missionaries having heard rumours that the king had sent for some men belonging to a refractory town not far from the capital, with the intention of killing them, and afterwards feasting on their bodies, they went to the old king to urge him to desist from so horrid and barbarous a repast, and warned him that a time would come when he would be punished for it. The king referred them to his son; but the savage propensities of the latter rendered it impossible for them to turn the savage from his barbarous purpose. They afterwards saw the bodies cut up and cooked. On two of these islands, however, the efforts of missionaries have been rewarded with some success; for the Reverend Mr Calvert, belonging to the Wesleyan society, assured the officers of the expedition, that in those islands heathenism was fast passing away, and that cannibalism was there extinct; but it must be observed that many of the residents on those two islands were Tongese, among whom it is well known the light of the gospel of Christ has long prevailed. On one of those isles are five hot springs, the temperature of which is 200 degrees; the rocks in the neighbourhood is of volcanic creation-- there is no smell of sulphur unless the head is held close to the water; but the water has a very strong bitter saline taste. These springs are used by the natives to boil their yams, which it does simply by putting them into the springs, and covering them with grass and leaves, and, although the water had scarcely any appearance of boiling before, rapid ebullition ensues. The yams are well done in fifteen minutes. The population of the Feejee Group is supposed to be about 130,000. Their towns are all on the sea-shore, as the chief food is fish. The Feejeeans are very ingenious at canoe-building and carpentry, and, curious enough, the barber is a most important personage, as they take great pains and pride in dressing their hair. Their houses are from twenty to thirty feet in length, and about fifteen feet in height--all have fireplaces, as they cook their food, which is done in jars, very like an oil jar in form. All these isles are girt by white encircling reefs, which, standing out at some distance from the shore, forms a natural harbour, so that when a vessel has once entered, it is as secure as in an artificial dock. There is generally but one entrance through the reef, and the difficulty of discovering it is well described by the Young Crusoes. Each one has its own peculiar beauty; but Ovolan exceeds all others; it is the highest, the most broken, and the most picturesque. Having thus introduced our readers to the scene of these adventures, we proceed to give the narrative in the words of the journalist of the Young Castaways. CHAPTER TWO. THE TROPICAL ISLAND. A COCOA-PALM--VIEWS OF DESERT ISLAND LIFE. "O had we some bright little isle of our own, In the blue summer ocean, far-off and alone." Wandering along the shore, (taking care to keep in sight of Mr Frazer, under whose convoy, in virtue of his double-barrelled fowling-piece, we considered ourselves), we came to a low and narrow point, running out a little way into the sea, the extremity of which was adorned by a stately group of cocoa-nut trees. The spot seemed ill adapted to support vegetation of so magnificent a growth, and nothing less hardy than the cocoa-palm could have derived nourishment from such a soil. Several of these fine trees stood almost at the water's edge, springing from a bed of sand, mingled with black basaltic pebbles, and coarse fragments of shells and coral, where their roots were washed by every rising tide: yet their appearance was thrifty and flourishing, and they were thickly covered with close-packed bunches of tassel-like, straw-coloured blossoms, and loaded with fruit in various stages of growth. Johnny cast a wistful glance at the compact clusters of nuts, nestling beneath the graceful tufts of long leaves that crowned each straight and tapering trunk; but he had so recently learned from experience, the hopelessness of undertaking to climb a cocoa-nut tree, that he was not at present disposed to renew the attempt. Max, however, who greatly valued himself upon his agility, and professed to be able to do any thing that could be done, in the way of climbing, manifested an intention to hazard his reputation by making the doubtful experiment. After looking carefully around, he selected for the attempt, a young tree near the shore, growing at a considerable inclination from the perpendicular; and clasping it firmly, he slowly commenced climbing, or rather creeping, along the slanting trunk, while Johnny watched the operation from below, with an interest as intense as if the fate of empires depended upon the result. Max, who evidently considered his character at stake, and who climbed for "glory," rather than for cocoa-nuts, proceeded with caution and perseverance. Once he partly lost his hold, and swung round to the under side of the trunk, but by a resolute and vigorous effort he promptly recovered his position, and finally succeeded in establishing himself quite comfortably among the enormous leaves that drooped from the top of the tree. Here he seemed disposed to rest for a while, after his arduous and triumphant exertions, and he sat, looking complacently down upon us from his elevated position, without making any attempt to secure the fruit which hung within his reach in abundant clusters. "Hurrah!" cried Johnny, capering about and clapping his hands with glee, as soon as this much desired consummation was attained, "Now, Max, pitch down the nuts!" Having teased Johnny, and enjoyed the impatience caused by the tantalising deliberation of his own movements, Max detached two entire clusters of nuts from the tree, which furnished us an abundant supply. Selecting a pleasant spot beside the beach, we sat down to discuss the cocoa-nuts at our leisure, which occupied us some little time. Upon looking round, after we had finished, we discovered that our convoy had disappeared, and Johnny, whose imagination was continually haunted by visionary savages and cannibals, manifested considerable uneasiness upon finding that we were alone. As the sun was already low in the west, and we supposed that the party engaged in getting wood had, in all probability, finished their work, we concluded to return, and to wait for Mr Frazer, and the rest of the shore party at the boats, if we should not find them already there. As we skirted the border of the grove, on our return, Johnny every now and then cast an uneasy glance towards its darkening recesses, as though expecting to see some wild animal, or a yelling troop of tattooed islanders rush out upon us. The forest commenced about two hundred yards from the beach, from which there was a gradual ascent and was composed of a greater variety of trees than I had observed on the other islands of a similar size at which we had previously landed. Arthur called our attention to a singular and picturesque group of Tournefortias, in the midst of which, like a patriarch surrounded by his family, stood one of uncommon size, and covered with a species of fern, which gave it a striking and remarkable appearance. The group covered a little knoll, that crowned a piece of rising ground, advanced a short distance beyond the edge of the forest. It was a favourable spot for a survey of the scene around us. The sun, now hastening to his setting, was tingeing all the western ocean with a rich vermilion glow. The smooth white beach before us, upon which the long-rolling waves broke in even succession, retired in a graceful curve to the right and was broken on the left by the wooded point already mentioned. As you looked inland, the undulating surface of the island, rising gradually from the shore, and covered with the wild and luxuriant vegetation of the tropics, delighted the eye by its beauty and variety. The noble Bread-fruit tree--its arching branches clothed with its peculiarly rich and glossy foliage; the elegantly shaped Casuarina, the luxuriant Pandanus, and the Palms, with their stately trunks, and green crests of nodding leaves, imparted to the scene a character of oriental beauty. "Why do they call so lovely a spot as this a desert island, I wonder?" exclaimed Johnny, after gazing around him a few moments in silence. "Did you ever hear of a desert island that wasn't a lovely spot!" answered Max. "Why, your regular desert island should combine the richest productions of the temperate, torrid, and frigid zones--a choice selection of the fruits, flowers, vegetables, and animal; of Europe, Asia, and Africa. This would by no means come up to the average standard. I doubt if you could find upon it so much as a goat or a poll-parrot much less an `onager,' a buffalo, or a boa-constrictor, some of which at least are indispensable to a desert island of any respectability." "Why, then, do they call such delightful places desert islands!" repeated Johnny. "I always thought a desert was a barren wilderness, where there was nothing to be seen but sand, and rocks, and Arabs." "I believe they are more properly called _desolate_ islands," said Arthur; "and that seems proper enough; for even this island with all its beauty, is supposed to be uninhabited, and it would be a very lonely and _desolate_ home. Would you like to live here, Johnny, like Robinson Crusoe, or the Swiss family?" "Not all alone, like Robinson Crusoe. O no! that would be horrible; but I think we might all of us together live here beautifully a little while, if we had plenty of provisions, and plenty of arms to defend ourselves against the savages; and then of course we should want a house to live in, too." "Nonsense," said Max, "what should we want of provisions?--the sea is full of fish, and the forest of birds; the trees are loaded with fruit; there are oysters and other shell-fish in the bays, and no doubt there are various roots, good for food, to be had by digging for them. As to a house, we might sleep very comfortably, in such weather as this, under these Tournefortias, and never so much as think of taking cold; or we could soon build a serviceable hut, which would be proof against sun and rain, of the trunks and boughs of trees, with a thatch of palm-leaves for a roof. Then in regard to arms, of course, if it should be our fate to set up for desert islanders, we should be well supplied in that line. I never heard of any one, from Robinson Crusoe down, being cast away on a desert island, without a good store of guns, pistols, cutlasses, etcetera, etcetera. Such a thing would be contrary to all precedent, and is not for a moment to be dreamed of." "But we haven't any arms," said Johnny, "except those old rusty cutlasses that Spot put into the yawl, and if we should be cast away, or left here, for instance, where should we get them from?" "O, but we are not cast away yet," replied Max. "This is the way the thing always happens. When people are cast away, it is in a ship, of course." "Why, yes; I suppose so," said Johnny, rather doubtfully. "Well--the ship is always abundantly supplied with every thing necessary to a desert island life; she is driven ashore; the castaways--the future desert islanders--by dint of wonderful good fortune, get safely to land; the rest of course are all drowned, and so disposed of; then, in due time, the ship goes to pieces, and every thing needful is washed ashore and secured by the islanders--that's the regular course of things--isn't it, Arthur!" "Yes, I believe it is, according to the story-books, which are the standard sources of information on the subject." "Or sometimes," pursued Max, "the ship gets comfortably wedged in between two convenient rocks, (which seem to have been designed for that special purpose), so that the castaways can go out to it on a raft, or float of some kind, and carry off every thing they want--and singularly enough, although the vessel is always on the point of going to pieces, that catastrophe never takes place, until every thing which can be of any use is secured." "Do you suppose, Arthur," inquired Johnny, "that there are many uninhabited islands, that have never been discovered!" "There are believed to be a great many of them," answered Arthur, "and it is supposed that new ones are constantly being formed by the labours of the coral insect. A bare ledge of coral first appears, just at the surface; it arrests floating substances, weeds, trees, etcetera; soon the sea-birds begin to resort there; by the decay of vegetable and animal matter a thin soil gradually covers the foundation of coral; a cocoa-nut is drifted upon it by the winds, or the currents of the sea; it takes root, springs up, its fruit ripens and falls, and in a few years the whole new-formed island is covered with waving groves." "Mr Frazer says he has no doubt that these seas swarm with such islands, and that many of them have never been discovered," said Max; besides, here's poetry for it:-- "`O many are the beauteous isles, Unseen by human eye, That sleeping 'mid the Ocean smiles, In happy silence lie. The ship may pass them in the night, Nor the sailors know what lovely sight Is sleeping on the main;' "But this poetical testimony will make Arthur doubt the fact altogether." "Not exactly," answered Arthur, "though I am free to admit that without Mr Frazer's opinion to back it your poetical testimony would not go very far with me." "Hark! There go Mr Frazer's two barrels," cried Max, as two reports in quick succession were heard, coming apparently from the grove, in the direction of the spring; "he has probably come across a couple of `rare specimens,' to be added to his stuffed collection." CHAPTER THREE. THE ALARM AND THE CONFLICT. THE MUTINEERS--THE RACE FOR LIFE--THE CORAL LEDGE--A FINAL EFFORT--A BRIEF WARNING--THE STRANGE SAIL. "Now bend the straining rowers to their oars; Fast the light shallops leave the lessening shores, No rival crews in emulous sport contend, But life and death upon the event depend." The next moment we were startled by a quick, fierce shout, followed immediately by a long, piercing, and distressful cry, proceeding from the same quarter from which the reports of fire-arms had been heard; and before we had time to conjecture the cause or meaning of these frightful sounds, Morton bounded like a deer from the grove, about a hundred yards from the spot where we were standing, and ran swiftly towards us, crying out--"To the boats! for your lives to the boats!" Our first thought was, that the party at the spring had been attacked and massacred by the natives. Arthur seized Johnny by one hand, and motioned to me to take the other, which I did, and without stopping to demand any explanations, we started at a rapid pace, in the direction of the yawl, Max taking the lead--Arthur and myself, dragging Johnny between us, coming next, and Morton a few paces behind us, bringing up the rear. It took but a few moments to enable us to reach the spot where the yawl lay, hauled up upon the beach. There was no one in her, or in sight, except Browne, who was comfortably stretched out near the boat sound asleep, with an open book lying beside him. Morton aroused the sleeper by a violent shake. "Now, then," cried he, "let us get the boat into the water; the tide is down, and the yawl is heavy; we shall want all the strength we can muster." By a united effort we got the yawl to the edge of the surf. Browne, though not yet thoroughly awake, could not but observe our pale faces and excited appearance, and gazing from one to another in a bewildered manner, he asked what was the matter; but no one made any answer. Morton lifted Johnny into the boat and asked the rest of us to get in, except Arthur, saying that they two would push her through the surf. "Hold!" cried Arthur, "let us not be too fast; some of the others may escape the savages, and they will naturally run this way--we must not leave them to be murdered." "There are no savages in the case," answered Morton, "and there is no time to be lost; the men have killed the first officer, and Mr Frazer, too, I fear; and they will take the ship and commit more murders, unless we can get there before them, to warn those on board." This was more horrible than any thing that we had anticipated; but we had no time to dwell upon it: the sound of oars rattling in the row-locks, was heard from beyond the point. "There are the mutineers!" cried Morton; "but I think that we have the advantage of them; they must pull round yonder point, which will make at least a quarter of a mile's difference in the distance to the ship." "There is no use in trying to get to the ship before them," said Max, "the long-boat pulls eight oars, and there are men enough to fill her." "There _is_ use in trying; it would be shameful _not_ to try; if they pull most oars, ours is the lightest boat," answered Morton with vehemence. "It us out of the question," said Browne; "see, is there any hope that we can succeed?" and he pointed to the bow of the long-boat just appearing from behind the point. "O, but this is not right!--Browne! Max! in the name of all that is honourable, let us make the attempt," urged Morton, laying a hand in an imploring manner on the arm of each. "Shall we let them take the ship and murder our friends, without an effort to warn them of their danger? You, Arthur, are for making the attempt, I know--this delay is wrong: the time is precious." "Yes, let us try it," said Arthur, glancing rapidly from the long-boat to the ship, "if we fail, no harm is done, except that we incur the anger of the mutineers. I, for one, am willing to take the risk." Max sprang into the boat, and seized an oar without another word. "_You_ know well, that I am willing to share any danger with the rest, and that it was not the danger that made me hesitate," said Browne, laying his hand on Morton's shoulder, and looking earnestly into his face; and then, in his usual deliberate manner, he followed Max's example. Morton, Arthur, and myself now pushed the boat into the surf and sprang in. At Arthur's request, I took the rudder; he and Morton seized the two remaining oars, and the four commenced pulling with a degree of coolness and vigour, that would not have disgraced older and more practised oarsmen. As I saw the manner in which they bent to their work, and the progress we were making, I began to think our chance of reaching the ship before the crew of the long-boat, by no means desperate. Morton, in spite of his slender figure and youthful appearance, which his fresh, ruddy complexion, blue eyes, and brown curling locks, rendered almost effeminate, possessed extraordinary strength, and indomitable energy. Browne, though his rather heavy frame and breadth of shoulders gave him the appearance of greater strength than he actually possessed, was undoubtedly capable, when aroused, of more powerful temporary exertion than any other of our number; though in point of activity and endurance, he would scarcely equal Morton or Arthur. Max, too, was vigorous and active, and, when stimulated by danger or emulation, was capable of powerful effort. Arthur, though of slight and delicate frame, was compact and well knit, and his coolness, judgment and resolution, enabled him to dispose of his strength to the best advantage. All were animated by that high and generous spirit which is of greater value in an emergency than any amount of mere physical strength; a spirit which often stimulates the feeble to efforts as surprising to him who puts them forth, as to those who witness them. Browne had the bow-oar, and putting his whole force into every stroke, was pulling like a giant. Morton, who was on the same side, handled his oar with less excitement and effort but with greater precision and equal efficiency. It was plain that these two were pulling Max and Arthur round, and turning the boat from her course; and as I had not yet succeeded in shipping the rudder, which was rendered difficult by the rising and falling of the boat, and the sudden impulse she received from every stroke, I requested Browne and Morton to pull more gently. Just as I had succeeded in getting the rudder hung, the crew of the long-boat seemed to have first observed us. They had cleared the point to the southward, and we were, perhaps, a hundred yards nearer the long point, beyond which we could see the masts of the ship, and on doubling which, we should be almost within hail of her. The latter point, was probably a little more than half a mile distant from us, and towards the head of it, both boats were steering. The long-boat was pulling eight oars, and Luerson, the man who had had the difficulty with the first officer at the Kingsmill Islands, was at the helm. As soon as he observed us, he appeared to speak to the crew of his boat, and they commenced pulling with greater vigour than before. He then hailed us,--"Holloa, lads! where's Frazer? Are you going to leave him on the island!" We pulled on in silence. "He is looking for you now, somewhere along shore; he left us, just below the point, to find you; you had better pull back and bring him off." "All a trick," said Morton; "don't waste any breath with them;" and we bent to the oars with new energy. "The young scamps mean to give the alarm," I could hear Luerson mutter with an oath, as he surveyed, for a moment, the interval between the two boats, and then the distance to the point. "There's no use of mincing matters, my lads," he cried, standing up in the stem; "we have knocked the first officer on the head, and served some of those who didn't approve of the proceeding in the same way; and now we are going to take the ship." "We know it, and intend to prevent you," cried Morton, panting with the violence of his exertions. "Unship your oars till we pass you, and you shall not be hurt," pursued Luerson in the same breath; "pull another stroke at them, and I will serve you like your friend, Frazer, and he lies at the spring with his throat slit!" The ruffian's design, in this savage threat, was doubtless to terrify us into submission; or, at least, so to appal and agitate us, as to make our exertions more confused and feeble. In this last calculation he may have been partially correct, for the threat was fearful, and the danger imminent; the harsh, deep tones of his voice, with the ferocious determination of his manner, sent a thrill of horror to every heart. More than this, he could not effect; there was not a craven spirit among our number. "Steadily!" said Arthur, in a low, collected tone; "less than five minutes will bring us within hail of the ship." But the minutes seemed hours, amid such tremendous exertions, and such intense anxiety. The sweat streamed from the faces of the rowers; they gasped and panted for breath; the swollen veins stood out on their foreheads. "Perhaps," cried Luerson, after a pause, "perhaps there is some one in that boat who desires to save his life; whoever drops his oar shall not be harmed; the rest die." A scornful laugh from Morton was the only answer to this tempting offer. Luerson now stooped for a moment and seemed to be groping for something in the bottom of the boat. When he rose, it was with a musket or fowling-piece in his hands, which he cocked, and, coming forward to the bow, levelled towards us. "Once more," he cried, "and once for all, drop your oars, or I fire among you." "I don't believe it is loaded," said Arthur, "or he would have used it sooner." "I think it is Frazer's gun," said Morton, "and he fired both barrels before they murdered him; there has been no time to reload it." The event showed the truth of these suspicions; for, upon seeing that his threat produced no effect, Luerson resumed his seat in the bows, the helm having been given to one of the men not at the oars. We were now close upon the point, and, as I glanced from our pursuers to the ship, I began to breathe more freely. They had gained upon us; but it was inch by inch, and the goal was now at hand. The long-boat, though pulling eight oars, and those of greater length than ours, was a clumsier boat than the yawl, and at present heavily loaded; we had almost held our own with them thus far. But now Luerson sprang up once more in the bow of the long-boat, and presented towards us the weapon with which he had a moment before threatened us; and this time it was no idle menace. A puff of smoke rose from the muzzle of the piece, and, just as the sharp report reached our ears, Browne uttered a quick exclamation of pain, and let fall his oar. For a moment all was confusion and alarm; but Browne, who had seized his oar again almost instantly, declared that he was not hurt; that the ball had merely grazed the skin of his arm; and he attempted to recommence rowing; before, however, he had pulled half-a-dozen strokes, his right hand was covered with the blood which streamed down his arm. I now insisted on taking his oar, and he took my place at the helm. While this change was being effected, our pursuers gained upon us perceptibly. Every moment was precious. Luerson urged his men to greater efforts; the turning point of the struggle was now at hand, and the excitement became terrible. "Steer close in; it will save something in distance," gasped Morton, almost choking for breath. "Not too close," panted Arthur; "don't get us aground." "There is no danger of that," answered Morton, "it is deep, off the point." Almost as he spoke, a sharp, grating sound was heard, beneath the bottom of the boat, and our progress was arrested with a suddenness that threw Max and myself from our seats. We were upon a ledge of coral, which at a time of less excitement we could scarcely have failed to have observed and avoided, from the manner in which the sea broke upon it. A shout of mingled exultation and derision, as they witnessed this disaster, greeted us from the long-boat, which was ploughing through the water, but a little way behind us, and some twenty yards further out from the shore. "It is all up," said Morton, bitterly, dropping his oar. "Back water! Her stern still swings free," cried Arthur, "the next swell will lift her clear." We got as far aft as possible, to lighten the bows; a huge wave broke upon the ledge, and drenched us with spray, but the yawl still grated upon the coral. Luerson probably deemed himself secure of a more convenient opportunity, at no distant period, to wreak his vengeance upon us: at any rate there was no time for it now; he merely menaced us with his clenched fist, as they swept by. Almost at the same moment a great sea came rolling smoothly in, and, as our oars dipped to back water, we floated free: then a few vigorous strokes carried us to a safe distance from the treacherous shoal. "One effort more!" cried Arthur, as the mutineers disappeared behind the point; "we are not yet too late to give them a warning, though it will be but a short one." Again we bent to the oars, and in a moment we too had doubled the point, and were in the wake of the long-boat. The ship lay directly before us, and within long hailing distance. "Now, comrades, let us shout together, and try to make them understand their danger," said Browne, standing up in the stern. "A dozen strokes more," said Arthur, "and we can do it with more certain success." Luerson merely glanced back at us, as he once more heard the dash of our oars; but he took no farther notice of us: the crisis was too close at hand. On board the ship all seemed quiet. Some of the men were gathered together on the starboard bow, apparently engaged in fishing; they did not seem to notice the approach of the boats. "Now, then!" cried Arthur, at length, unshipping his oar, and springing to his feet, "one united effort to attract their attention--all together--now, then!" and we sent up a cry that echoed wildly across the water, and startled the idlers congregated at the bows, who came running to the side of the vessel nearest us. "We have got their attention; now hail them," said Arthur, turning to Browne, who had a deep powerful voice; "tell them not to let the long-boat board them." Browne put his hands to his mouth, and in tones that could have been distinctly heard twice the distance, shouted--"Look-out for the long-boat--don't let them board you--the men have killed the first officer, and want to take the ship!" From the stir and confusion that followed, it was clear that the warning was understood. But the mutineers were now scarcely twenty yards from the vessel, towards which they were ploughing their way with unabated speed. The next moment they were under her bows; just as their oars flew into the air, we could hear a deep voice from the deck, sternly ordering them to "keep off," and I thought that I could distinguish Captain Erskine standing near the bowsprit. The mutineers gave no heed to the order; several of them sprang into the chains, and Luerson among the rest. A fierce, though unequal struggle, at once commenced. The captain, armed with a weapon which he wielded with both hands, and which I took to be a capstan-bar, struck right and left among the boarders as they attempted to gain the deck, and one, at least of them, fell back with a heavy plunge into the water. But the captain seemed to be almost unsupported; and the mutineers had nearly all reached the deck, and were pressing upon him. "Oh, but this is a cruel sight!" said Browne, turning away with a shudder. "Comrades, can we do nothing more?" Morton, who had been groping beneath the sail in the bottom of the boat now dragged forth the cutlasses which Spot had insisted on placing there when we went ashore. "Here are arms!" he exclaimed, "we are not such boys, but that we can take a part in what is going on--let us pull to the ship!" "What say you!" cried Arthur, glancing inquiringly from one to another; "we can't, perhaps, do much, but shall we sit here and see Mr Erskine murdered, without _trying_ to help him!" "Friends, let us to the ship!" cried Browne, with deep emotion, "I am ready." "And I!" gasped Max, pale with excitement, "we can but be killed." Can we hope to turn the scale of this unequal strife? shall we do more than arrive at the scene of conflict in time to experience the vengeance of the victorious mutineers?--such were the thoughts that flew hurriedly through my mind. I was entirely unaccustomed to scenes of violence and bloodshed, and my head swam, and my heart sickened, as I gazed at the confused conflict raging on the vessel's deck, and heard the shouts and cries of the combatants. Yet I felt an inward recoil against the baseness of sitting an idle spectator of such a struggle. A glance at the lion-hearted Erskine still maintaining the unequal fight, was an appeal to every noble and generous feeling: it nerved me for the attempt, and though I trembled as I grasped an oar, it was with excitement and eagerness, not with fear. The yawl had hardly received the first impulse in the direction of the ship, when the report of fire-arms was heard. "Merciful heavens!" cried Morton, "the captain is down! that fiend Luerson has shot him!" The figure which I had taken for that of Mr Erskine, was no longer to be distinguished among the combatants, some person was now dragged to the side of the ship towards us, and thrown overboard; he sunk after a feeble struggle; a triumphant shout followed, and then two men were seen running up the rigging. "There goes poor Spot up to the foretop," said Max, pointing to one of the figures in the rigging; "he can only gain time at the best but it can't be that they'll kill him in cold blood." "Luerson is just the man to do it," answered Morton; "the faithful fellow has stood by the captain, and that will seal his fate--look! it is as I said," and I could see some one pointing, what was doubtless Mr Frazer's fowling-piece, at the figure in the foretop. A parley seemed to follow; as the result of which, the fugitive came down and surrendered himself. The struggle now appeared to be over, and quiet was once more restored. So rapidly had these events passed, and so stunning was their effect, that it was some moments before we could collect our thoughts, or fully realise our situation; and we sat, silent and bewildered, gazing toward the ship. Max was the first to break silence; "And now, what's to be done?" he said, "as to going aboard, that is of course out of the question: the ship is no longer our home." "I don't know what we can do," said Morton, "except to pull ashore, and stand the chance of being taken off by some vessel, before we starve." "Here is something better," cried Max eagerly, pointing out to sea; and, looking in the direction indicated, we saw a large ship, with all her sails set, steering directly for us, or so nearly so, as to make it apparent that if she held on her present course, she must pass very near to us. Had we not been entirely engrossed by what was taking place immediately around us, we could not have failed to have seen her sooner, as she must have been in sight a considerable time. "They have already seen her on board," said Morton, "and that accounts for their great hurry in getting up anchor; they don't feel like being neighbourly just now, with strange vessels." In fact, there was every indication on board of our own ship, of haste, and eagerness to be gone. While some of the men were at the capstan, getting up the anchor, others were busy in the rigging, and sail after sail was rapidly spread to the breeze, so that by the time the anchor was at the bows, the ship began to move slowly through the water. "They don't seem to consider us of much account anyway," said Max, "they are going without so much as saying good-bye." "They may know more of the stranger than we do," said Arthur, "they have glasses on board; if she should be an American man-of-war, their hurry is easily explained." "I can't help believing that they see or suspect more, in regard to her, than appears to us," said Morton, "or they would not fail to make an attempt to recover the yawl." "It is rapidly getting dark," said Arthur, "and I think we had better put up the sail, and steer for the stranger." "Right," said Morton, "for she may possibly tack before she sees us." Morton and myself proceeded to step the mast, and rig the sail; meantime, Arthur got Browne's coat off, and examined and bandaged the wound on his arm, which had been bleeding all the while profusely; he pronounced it to be but a trifling hurt. A breeze from the south-east had sprung up at sunset, and we now had a free wind to fill our sail, as we steered directly out to sea to meet the stranger, which was still at too great a distance to make it probable that we had been seen by her people. It was with a feeling of anxiety and uneasiness, that I saw the faint twilight fading away, with the suddenness usual in those latitudes, and the darkness gathering rapidly round us. Already the east was wrapped in gloom, and only a faint streak of light along the western horizon marked the spot where the sun had so recently disappeared. "How suddenly the night has come upon us," said Arthur, who had been peering through the dusk toward the approaching vessel, in anxious silence; "O, for twenty minutes more of daylight! I fear that she is about tacking." This announcement filled us all with dismay, and every eye was strained towards her with intense and painful interest. Meantime, the breeze had freshened somewhat and we now had rather more of it than we desired, as our little boat was but poorly fitted to navigate the open ocean in rough weather. Johnny began to manifest some alarm, as we were tossed like a chip from wave to wave, and occasionally deluged with spray, by a sea bursting with a rude shock over our bow. I had not even in the violent storm of the preceding week, experienced such a sense of insecurity, such a feeling of helplessness, as now, when the actual danger was comparatively slight. The waves seemed tenfold larger and more threatening than when viewed from the deck of a large vessel. As we sunk into the trough of the sea, our horizon was contracted to the breadth of half-a-dozen yards, and we entirely lost sight of the land, and of both ships. But it was evident that we were moving through the water with considerable velocity, and there was encouragement in that, for we felt confident that if the stranger should hold on her present course but a little longer, we should be on board of her before our safety would be seriously endangered by the increasing breeze. If, however, she were really tacking, our situation would indeed be critical. A very few moments put a period to our suspense by confirming Arthur's opinion, and our worst fears; the stranger had altered her course, her yards were braced round, and she was standing further out to sea. Still, however, there would have been a possibility of reaching her, but for the failure of light, for she had not so far changed her course, but that she would have to pass a point, which we could probably gain before her. But now, it was with difficulty, and only by means of the cloud of canvass she carried, that we could distinguish her through the momently deepening gloom; and with sinking hearts we relinquished the last hopes connected with her. Soon she entirely vanished from our sight, and when we gazed anxiously around the narrow horizon that now bounded our vision, sky and water alone met our view. CHAPTER FOUR. AT SEA. A NIGHT OF GLOOM--MORTON'S NARRATIVE--VISIONARY TERRORS--AN ALARMING DISCOVERY. "O'er the deep! o'er the deep! Where the whale, and the shark, and the sword-fish sleep." Even in open day, the distance of a few miles would be sufficient to sink the low shores of the island; and now that night had so suddenly overtaken us, it might be quite near, without our being able to distinguish it. We were even uncertain, and divided in opinion, as to the direction in which it lay--so completely were we bewildered. The night was one of deep and utter gloom. There was no moon; and not a single star shed its feeble light over the wilderness of agitated waters, upon which our little boat was tossing. Heavy, low-hanging clouds, covered the sky; but soon, even these could no longer be distinguished; a cold, damp mist, dense, and almost palpable to the touch, crept over the ocean, and enveloped us so closely, that it was impossible to see clearly from one end of the yawl to the other. The wind, however, instead of freshening, as we had feared, died gradually away. For this, we had reason to be thankful; for though our situation that night seemed dismal enough, yet how much more fearful would it have been, if the rage of the elements, and danger of immediate destruction, had been added to the other circumstances of terror by which we were surrounded? As it was, however, the sea having gone down, we supposed ourselves to be in no great or pressing peril. Though miserably uncomfortable, and somewhat agitated and anxious, we yet confidently expected that the light of morning would show us the land again. The terrible and exciting scenes through which we had so recently passed, had completely exhausted us, and we were too much overwhelmed by the suddenness of our calamity, and the novel situation in which we now found ourselves, to be greatly disposed to talk. Johnny sobbed himself asleep in Arthur's arms; and even Max's usual spirits seemed now to have quite forsaken him. After the mast had been unstepped, and such preparations as our circumstances permitted were made, for passing the night comfortably, Morton related all that he knew of what had taken place on shore, previous to the alarm which he had given. I repeat the narrative as nearly as possible in his own words, not perhaps altogether as he related it on that night, for the circumstances were not then favourable to a full and orderly account, but partly as I afterwards, in various conversations, gathered the particulars from him. "You recollect," said he, "that we separated at the boats; Mr Frazer and the rest of you, going along the shore towards the point, leaving Browne declaiming Byron's Address to the Ocean, from the top of a coral block, with myself and the breakers for an audience. Shortly afterwards, I strolled off towards the interior, and left Browne lying on the sand, with his pocket Shakespeare, where we found him, when we reached the boats. I kept on inland, until the forest became so dense, and was so overgrown with tangled vines and creeping plants, that I could penetrate no farther in that direction. In endeavouring to return, I got bewildered, and at length fairly lost, having no clear notion as to the direction of the beach. The groves were so thick and dark as to shut out the light almost entirely; and I could not get a glimpse of the sun so as to fix the points of the compass. At last I came to an opening, large enough to let in the light, and show which way the shadows fell. Knowing that we had landed on the west side of the island, I could now select my course without hesitation. It was getting late in the afternoon, and I walked as fast as the nature of the ground would allow, until I unexpectedly found myself at the edge of the grove, east of the spring where the men were at work filling the breakers. The moment I came in sight of them, I perceived that something unusual was taking place. The first officer and Luerson were standing opposite each other, and the men, pausing from their work, were looking on. As I inferred, Mr Nichol had given some order, which Luerson had refused to obey. Both looked excited, but no words passed between them after I reached the place. There was a pause of nearly a minute, when Mr Nichol advanced as if to lay hands on Luerson, and the latter struck him a blow with his cooper's mallet, which he held in his hand, and knocked him down. Before he had time to rise, Atoa, the Sandwich Islander, sprang upon him, and stabbed him twice with his belt-knife. All this passed so rapidly, that no one had a chance to interfere--" "Hark!" said Browne, interrupting the narration, "what noise is that? It sounds like the breaking of the surf upon the shore." But the rest of us could distinguish no sound except the washing of the waves against the boat. The eye was of no assistance in deciding whether we were near the shore or not, as it was impossible to penetrate the murky darkness, a yard in any direction. "We must be vigilant," said Arthur, "the land cannot be far-off, and we may be drifted upon it before morning." After listening for some moments in anxious silence, we became satisfied that Browne had been mistaken, and Morton proceeded. "Just as Atoa sprang upon Mr Nichol and stabbed him, Mr Knight, who was the first to recover his presence of mind, seized the murderer, and wrenched the knife from his hand, at the same time calling on the men to secure Luerson; but no one stirred to do so. A part seemed confused and undecided; while others appeared to me, to have been fully prepared for what had taken place. One man stepped forward near Luerson, and declared in a brutal and excited manner, that `Nichol was a bloody tyrant, and had got what he deserved, and that no man could blame Luerson for taking his revenge, after being treated as he had been.' For a moment all was clamour and confusion; then Luerson approached Mr Knight in a threatening manner, and bade him loose Atoa, instead of which, he held his prisoner firmly with one hand, and warning Luerson off with the other, called on the men to stand by their officers. Just at this moment, Mr Frazer, with his gun on his shoulder, came out of the grove from the side toward the shore, and to him Mr Knight eagerly appealed for assistance in securing the murderers of Mr Nichol. Pointing from the bleeding corpse at his feet, to Luerson, he said--`There is the ringleader--shoot him through the head at once, and that will finish the matter--otherwise we shall all be murdered--fire, I will answer for the act?' "Frazer seemed to comprehend the situation of things at a glance. With great presence of mind, he stepped back a pace, and bringing his gun to his shoulder, called on Luerson to throw down his weapon, and surrender himself, declaring that he would shoot the first man who lifted a hand to assist him. His manner was such as to leave no doubt of his sincerity, or his resolution. The men had no fire-arms, and were staggered by the suddenness of the thing; they stood hesitating and undecided. Mr Knight seized this as a favourable moment, and advanced upon Luerson, with the intention of securing him, and the islander was thus left free. At this moment I observed the man who had denounced Mr Nichol, and justified Luerson, stealing round behind Frazer. I called out to him at the top of my voice to warn him; but he did not seem to hear. I looked for something which might serve me for a weapon; but there was nothing, not so much as a broken bough within reach, and in another instant, the whole thing was over. As Knight grappled with Luerson, he dropped the knife which he had wrested from Atoa, his intention evidently being to secure, and not to kill him. "Atoa immediately leaped forward and seized the knife, and had his arm already raised to stab Mr Knight in the back, when Frazer shot him dead. At almost the same instant, Luerson struck Mr Knight a tremendous blow on the head with his mallet, which felled him to the earth, stunned and lifeless. He next rushed upon Frazer, who had fairly covered him with the muzzle of his piece, and would inevitably have shot him, but just as he pulled the trigger, the man whom I had seen creeping round behind him, sprang upon him, and deranged his aim; two or three of the others, who had stood looking on, taking no part in the affair, now interposed, and by their assistance Frazer was overpowered and secured. Whether they murdered him or not, as Luerson afterwards declared, I do not know. As soon as the struggle was over, the man who had seconded Luerson so actively throughout, (the tall dark man who goes by the name of `the Boatswain,') shouted out, `Now, then, for the ship!' `Yes, for the ship!' cried Luerson, `though this has not come about just as was arranged, and has been hurried on sooner than we expected; it is as well so as any way, and must be followed up. There's no one aboard but the captain, and four or five men and boys, all told: the landsmen are all ashore, scattered over the island. We can take her without risk--and then for a merry life at the islands!' "This revealed the designs of the mutineers, and I determined to anticipate them if possible. As I started for the beach I was observed, and they hailed me; but without paying any attention to their shouts, I ran as fast, at least, as I ever ran before, until I came out of the forest, near where you were standing." From the words of Luerson which Morton had heard, it was clear that the mutiny had not been a sudden and unpremeditated act; and we had no doubt that it had grown out of the difficulties at the Kingsmills, between him and the unfortunate Mr Nichol. It was quite late before we felt any disposition to sleep; but notwithstanding the excitement and the discomforts of our situation, we began at length to experience the effects of the fatigue and anxiety which we had undergone, and bestowing ourselves as conveniently as possible about the boat, which furnished but slender accommodations for such a number, we bade each other the accustomed "good night," and one by one dropped asleep. Knowing that we could not be far from land, and aware of our liability to be drifted ashore during the night, it had been decided to maintain a watch. Arthur, Morton, and I had agreed to divide the time between us as accurately as possible, and to relieve one another in turn. The first watch fell to Arthur, the last to me, and, after exacting a promise from Morton, that he would not fail to awaken me when it was fairly my turn, I laid down upon the ceiling planks, close against the side of the boat between which, and Browne, who was next me, there was barely room to squeeze myself. It was a dreary night. The air was damp, and even chilly. The weltering of the waves upon the outside of the thin plank against which my head was pressed, made a dismal kind of music, and suggested vividly how frail was the only barrier that separated us from the wide, dark waste of waters, below and around. The heavy, dirge-like swell of the ocean, though soothing, in the regularity and monotony of its sluggish motion, sounded inexpressibly mournful. The gloom of the night, and the tragic scenes of the day, seemed to give character to my dreams, for they were dark and hideous, and so terribly vivid, that I several times awoke strangely agitated. At one time I saw Luerson, with a countenance of supernatural malignity, and the expression of a fiend, murdering poor Frazer. At another, our boat seemed drawn by some irresistible, but unseen power, to the verge of a yawning abyss, and began to descend between green-glancing walls of water, to vast depths, where undescribed sea-monsters, never seen upon the surface, glided about in an obscurity that increased their hideousness. Suddenly the feeble light that streamed down into the gulf through the green translucent sea, seemed to be cut off; the liquid walls closed above our heads; and we were whirled away, with the sound of rushing waters, and in utter darkness. All this was vague and confused, and consisted of the usual "stuff that dreams are made of." What followed, was wonderfully vivid and real: every thing was as distinct as a picture, and it has left an indelible impression upon my mind; there was something about it far more awful than all the half-defined shapes and images of terror that preceded it. I seemed to be all alone, in our little boat, in the midst of the sea. It was night--and what a night! not a breath of wind rippled the glassy waters. There was no moon, but the sky was cloudless, and the stars were out, in solemn and mysterious beauty. Every thing seemed preternaturally still, and I felt oppressed by a strange sense of loneliness; I looked round in vain for some familiar object, the sight of which might afford me relief. But far, far as the eye could reach, to the last verge of the horizon, where the gleaming sapphire vault closed down upon the sea, stretched one wide, desolate, unbroken expanse. I seemed to be isolated and cut off from all living things: "Alone--alone, all, all alone! Alone on the wide, wide sea; So lonely 'twas, that God himself Scarce seemed there to be." And there was something in this feeling, and in the universal, death-like silence, that was unutterably awful. I tried to pray--to think of God as present even there--to think of Him as "Our Father"--as caring for and loving his creatures--and thus to escape the desolating sense of loneliness that oppressed me. But it was in vain; I could not pray: there was something in the scene that mocked at faith, and seemed in harmony with the dreary creed of the atheist. The horrible idea of a godless universe came upon me, bidding me relinquish, as a fond illusion, the belief in a Heavenly Father,-- "Who sees with equal eye, as Lord of all, A hero perish, or a sparrow fall." Language cannot express the desolation of that thought. Then the scene changed once more. We were again on board the ship, and in the power of the enraged mutineers, about to suffer whatever their vengeance might impel them to inflict. Poor Spot was swinging, a livid corpse, at one of the yard-arms. Browne was bound to the main-mast, while Luerson and his fiendish crew were exhausting their ingenuity in torturing him. The peculiar expression of his mild, open countenance, distorted by pain, went to my heart, and the sound of that familiar and friendly voice, now hoarse and broken, and quivering with agony, thrilled me with horror. As he besought his tormentors to kill him at once, I thought that I kneeled to Luerson, and seconded the entreaty-- the greatest favour that could be hoped from him. The rest of us were doomed to walk the plank. Morton was stern and silent; Max pale and sorrowful; his arm was round my neck, and he murmured that life was sweet, and that it was a hard and terrible thing to die--to die so! Arthur, calm and collected, cheered and encouraged us; and his face seemed like the face of an angel, as he spoke sweetly and solemnly, of the goodness and the love of God, and bade us put our whole trust and hope in Christ our Saviour. His earnest words and serene look, soothed and strengthened us; we also became calm and almost resigned. There was no abject fear, no useless cries, or supplications to our foes for mercy; but the solemn sense of the awfulness of death, was mingled with a sweet and sustaining faith in God, and Christ, and Immortality. Hand in hand, like brothers, we were preparing to take the fearful plunge-- when I started and awoke. Even the recollection of our real situation was insufficient to impair the deep sense of relief which I experienced. My first impulse was to thank God that these were but dreams; and if I had obeyed the next, I should have embraced heartily each of my slumbering companions; for in the first confusion of thought and feeling, my emotions were very much what they would naturally have been, had the scenes of visionary terror, in which we seemed to have just participated together, been real. Morton was at his post, and I spoke to him, scarcely knowing or caring what I said. All I wanted, was to hear his voice, to revive the sense of companionship, and so escape the painful impressions which even yet clung to me. He said that he had just commenced his watch, Arthur having called him but a few moments before. The night was still lowering and overcast, but there was less wind and sea than when I first laid down. I proposed to relieve him at once, but he felt no greater inclination to sleep than myself and we watched together until morning. The two or three hours immediately before dawn seemed terribly long. Just as the first grey light appeared in the east, Arthur joined us. A dense volume of vapour which rested upon the water, and contributed to the obscurity in which we were enveloped, now gathered slowly into masses, and floated upward as the day advanced, gradually clearing the prospect; and we kept looking out for the island, in the momentary expectation of seeing it loom up before us through the mist. But when, as the light increased, and the fog rolled away, the boundaries of our vision rapidly enlarged, and still no land could be seen, we began to feel seriously alarmed. A short period of intense and painful anxiety followed, during which we continued alternately gazing, and waiting for more light, and again straining our aching eyes in every direction, and still in vain. At last it became evident that we had in some manner drifted completely away from the island. The appalling conviction could no longer be resisted. There we were, lost and helpless, on the open ocean, in our chip of a boat, without provisions for a single day, or, to speak more definitely, without a morsel of bread or a drop of water. CHAPTER FIVE. THE CONSULTATION. OUT OF SIGHT OF LAND--SLENDER RESOURCES--WHAT'S TO BE DONE? "How rapidly, how rapidly, we ride along the sea! The morning is all sunshine, the wind is blowing free; The billows are all sparkling, and bounding in the light, Like creatures in whose sunny veins, the blood is running bright." Morton alone still refused to relinquish the hope, that by broad daylight, we should yet be able to make out the island. He persisted in pronouncing it wholly incredible that we had made during the night, a distance sufficient to sink the land, which was but three or four miles off at the utmost, when we were overtaken by darkness; he could not understand, he said, how such a thing was possible. Arthur accounted for it, by supposing that we had got into the track of one of the ocean currents that exist in those seas, especially among the islands, many of which run at the rate of from two to three miles an hour. This seemed the more probable, from the fact, that we were to the west of the island, when we lost sight of it, and that the great equatorial current, which traverses the Pacific and Indian oceans, has a prevailing westerly course, though among the more extensive groups and clusters of islands, it is so often deflected hither and thither, by the obstacles which it encounters, or turned upon itself, in eddies or counter-currents, that no certain calculations can be made respecting it. Morton, however, did not consider this supposition sufficient to explain the difficulty. "I should judge," said he, "that in a clear day, such an island might be seen fifteen or twenty miles, and we cannot have drifted so great a distance." "It might perhaps be seen," said Arthur, "as far as that, from the mast-head of a ship, or even from her deck, but not from a small boat hardly raised above the surface of the water. At our present level, eight or ten miles would be enough to sink it completely." At length, when it was broad day, and from the appearance of the eastern sky, the sun was just about to rise, Morton stepped the mast and climbed to the top, in the hope that from that additional elevation, slight as it was, he might catch a glimpse of land. There was by this time light enough, as he admitted, to see any thing that could be seen at all, and after making a deliberate survey of our whole horizon, he was fully convinced that we had drifted completely away from the island. "I give it up," he said, as he slid down the mast, "we are at sea, beyond all question." Presently Max awoke. He cast a quick, surprised look around, and at first seemed greatly shocked. He speedily recovered himself, however, and after another, and closer, scrutiny of the horizon, thought that he detected an appearance like that of land in the south. For a moment there was again the flutter of excited hope, as every eye was turned eagerly in that direction; but it soon subsided. A brief examination satisfied us all, that what we saw, was but a low bank of clouds lying against the sky. "This really begins to look serious," said I; "what are we to do?" "It strikes me," replied Morton, "that we are pretty much relieved from the necessity of considering that question; our only part for the present seems to be a passive one." "I can't fully persuade myself that this is real," said Max; "it half seems like an ugly dream, from which we should awake by-and-by, and draw a long breath at the relief of finding it no more than a dream." "We are miserably provisioned for a sea voyage," said Morton; "but I believe the breaker is half full of water; without that we should indeed be badly off." "There is not a drop in it," said Arthur, shaking his head, and he lifted the breaker and shook it lightly--it was quite empty. He now proceeded to force open the locker, in the hope of finding them something that might be serviceable to us; but its entire contents consisted of a coil of fine rope, some pieces of rope-yarn, an empty quart-bottle, and an old and battered hatchet-head. Meanwhile, Browne, without a trace of anxiety upon his upturned countenance, and Johnny, who nestled close beside him, continued to sleep soundly, in happy unconsciousness of our alarming situation. "Nothing ever interferes with the soundness of Browne's sleep, or the vigour of his appetite," said Max, contemplating his placid slumbers with admiration. "I should be puzzled to decide whether sleeping, eating, or dramatic recitation, is his forte; it certainly lies between the three." "Poor fellow!" said Morton, "from present appearances, and the state of our supplies, he will have to take it all out in sleeping, for some time to come, as it is to be presumed he'll hardly feel like spouting." "One would think that what happened yesterday, and the condition of things as we left them last night, would be enough to disturb one's nerves somewhat; yet you see how little it affects him--and I now predict that the first thing he will say on opening his eye; will be about the means of breaking his long fast." "I don't understand how you can go on in that strain, Max," said Arthur, looking up in a surprised manner, and shaking his head disapprovingly. "Why, I was merely endeavouring to do my share towards keeping our spirits up; but I suppose any spirits got up under the present circumstances, must be somewhat forced, and as my motives don't seem to be properly appreciated, I will renounce the unprofitable attempt." The sun rose in a clear sky, and gave promise of a hot day. There was, however, a cool and refreshing breeze, that scattered the spray from the foaming ridges of the waves, and occasionally showered us, not unpleasantly, with the fine liquid particles. A sea, breaking over our bow, dashed a bucket-full of water into Browne's face, and abruptly disturbed his slumbers. "Good morning, comrades!" said he, sitting up, and looking about him with a perplexed and bewildered air. "But how is this? Ah! I recollect it all now. So then, we are really out of sight of land!" "There is no longer any doubt of that," said Arthur, "and it is now time for us to decide what we shall do--our chance of falling in with a ship will be quite as good, and that of reaching land will of course be much better, if, instead of drifting like a log upon the water, we put up our sail, and steer in almost any direction; though I think there is a choice." "Of course there is a choice," said Morton; "the island _cannot_ be at any great distance; and the probability of our being able to find it again is so much greater than that of making any other land, that we ought to steer in the direction in which we have good reason to think it lies--that is, to the east." "The wind, for the last twelve hours, has been pretty nearly south," observed Arthur, "and has probably had some effect upon our position; we had better, therefore, steer a little south of east, which, with this breeze, will be easy sailing." To this all assented, and the sail was hoisted, and the boat's head put in the direction agreed upon, each of us, except Johnny, sailing and steering her in turn. There was quite as much wind as our little craft could sail with to advantage, and without danger. As it filled her bit of canvass, she careered before it, leaping and plunging from wave to wave, in a manner that sometimes seemed perilous. The bright sky above us, the blue sea gleaming in the light of morning, over which we sped; the dry, clear atmosphere, (now that the sun was up, and the mist dissipated), the fresh breeze, without which we must have suffered intensely from the heat; together with our rapid and bounding motion, had an exhilarating effect, in spite of the gloomy anticipations that suggested themselves. "After all," said Max, "why need we take such a dismal view of the matter? We have a fine staunch little boat, a good breeze, and islands all around us. Besides, we are in the very track of the beche de mer, and sandal-wood traders. It would be strange indeed, if we should fail to meet some of them soon. In fact, if it were not for thinking of poor Frazer, and of the horrible events of yesterday, (which, to be sure, are enough to make one sad), I should be disposed to look upon the whole affair; as a sort of holiday adventure--something to tell of when we get home, and to talk over pleasantly together twenty years hence." "If we had a breaker of water, and a keg of biscuit," said Morton, "and could then be assured of fair weather for a week, I might be able to take that view of it; as it is, I confess, that to me, it has any thing but the aspect of a holiday adventure." When Johnny awoke, Arthur endeavoured to soothe his alarm, by explaining to him that we had strong hopes of being able to reach the island again, and mentioning the various circumstances which rendered such a hope reasonable. The little fellow, did not, however, seem to be as much troubled as might have been expected. He either reposed implicit confidence in the resources, or the fortunes, of his companions, or else, did not at all realise the perils to which we were exposed. But this could not last long. That which I knew Arthur had been painfully anticipating, came at last. Johnny, who had been asking Morton a multitude of questions as to the events of the previous day, suddenly said that he was very thirsty, and asked in the most unsuspecting manner for a drink of water. When he learned that the breaker was empty, and that we had not so much as a drop of water with us, some notion of our actual situation seemed to dawn upon him, and he became, all at once, grave and silent. Hour after hour dragged slowly on, until the sun was in the zenith, with no change for the better in our affairs. It was now clear that we must give up the hope of reaching the island which we had left, for it was certain that we had sailed farther since morning than the boat could possibly have been drifted during the night, by the wind, or the current, or both combined. Our calculations at the outset must therefore have been erroneous, and we had not been sailing in the right direction. If so, it was too late to correct the mistake; we could not regain our starting-point, in order to steer from it another course. We now held a second consultation. Although we had but a general notion of our geographical position, we knew that we were in the neighbourhood of scattered groups of low coral islands. From the Kingsmills we were to have sailed directly for Canton, and Max, Morton, and myself, would, before now, in all probability, have commenced our employment in the American factory there, but for Captain Erskine's sudden resolution to take the responsibility of returning to the Samoan Group, with the double object of rescuing the crew of the wrecked barque, and completing his cargo, which, according to the information received from the master of the whaler, there would be no difficulty in doing. From Upolu, we had steered a north-westerly course, and it was on the fourth or fifth day after leaving it, that we had reached the island where the mutiny took place, and which Mr Erskine claimed as a discovery of his own. Its latitude and longitude had of course been calculated, but none of us learned the result, or at any rate remembered it. We knew only, that we were at no great distance from the Kingsmills, and probably to the south-west of them. Arthur was confident, from conversations had with Mr Frazer, and from the impressions left on his mind by his last examination of the charts, that an extensive cluster of low islands, scattered over several degrees of latitude, lay just to the south-east of us. It was accordingly determined to continue our present course as long as the wind should permit, which there was reason to fear might be but a short time, as easterly winds are the prevailing ones within the tropics, as near the line as we supposed ourselves to be. CHAPTER SIX. THE CALM. THE SECOND WATCH--AN EVIL OMEN--THE WHITE SHARK--A BREAKFAST LOST. "All in a hot and copper sky, The bloody sun, at noon, Right up above the mast did stand, No bigger than the moon." During the remainder of the day the wind continued fair, and we held on our course, steering by the sun, and keeping a vigilant look-out in every direction. But the night set in, and we had yet seen no appearance of land, no speck in the distance which could be mistaken for a sail, not even a wandering sea-bird or a school of flying-fish-- nothing to break the dead monotony of the briny waste we were traversing. As I sat at the helm, taking my turn in sailing the boat, and watched the sun go down, and saw the darkness gathering over the sea, a feeling nearly akin to despair took possession of me. In vain I strove to take an encouraging and hopeful view of our circumstances. The time within which relief must come, in order to be effectual, was so short, that I could not help feeling that the probabilities were strongly against us. I could not shut my eyes to the fact, that dangers, imminent and real, such as we had read and talked of, without ever half realising or dreaming that they could one day fall to our own lot, now pressed upon us, and threatened us close at hand. I knew that those fearful tales of shipwreck and starvation, were only too true-- that men, lost at sea like ourselves, had pined day after day, without a morsel of food or a drop of water, until they had escaped, in stupor or delirium, all consciousness of suffering. And worse even than this--too horrible to be thought or spoken of--I knew something of the dreadful and disgusting expedients to prolong life, which have sometimes been resorted to by famishing wretches. I had read how the pangs of hunger, and the still fiercer torments of thirst, had seemed to work a dire change even in kind and generous natures, making men wolfish, so that they slew and fed upon each other. Now, all that was most revolting and inhuman, in what I had heard or read of such things, rose vividly before me, and I shuddered at the growing probability that experiences like these might be reserved for us. "Why not for us," I thought, "as well as for the many others, the records of whose terrible fate I have perused with scarcely more emotion than would be excited by a tale of imaginary suffering; and the still greater number whose story has never been recorded? We have already been conducted many steps on this fearful path, and no laws of nature will be stayed, no ordinary rules of God's dealing violated, on our behalf. No inevitable necessity requires the complexion of our future, to correspond and harmonise with that of our past lives. This feeling, which seems to assure me that such things cannot happen to us, is but one of the cheats and illusions of a shrinking and self-pitying spirit. All the memories that cluster about a happy childhood, all the sweet associations of home and kindred, afford no guarantee against the new and bitter experiences which seem about to open up upon us." Such were the thoughts that began to disquiet my own mind. As to my companions, Morton seemed less anxious and excited than any of the others. During the evening he speculated in a cool matter-of-fact manner, upon our chances of reaching an island, or meeting a ship, before being reduced to the last extremity. He spoke of the number of traders that frequent the islands, for tortoise-shell, mother-of-pearl, sandal-wood, beche de mer, etcetera; the whalers that come in pursuit of the cachelot, or sperm-whale; the vessels that resort there for fruit, or supplies of wood and water; the vast number of islands scattered through these seas; from all which he finally concluded, that the chances were largely in our favour. If, however, we should fail of immediate relief in this shape, he thought it probable that we should have opportunities of catching fish, or sea-birds, and so prolonging life for many days. He talked the whole matter over in such a calm, sober, unexcited manner, furnishing facts and reasons for every opinion, that I felt some confidence in his conclusions. Browne, though quite composed and self-possessed, had, from the moment when he discovered that we were out of sight of land, taken the most serious view of our situation. He seemed to have made up his mind for the worst, and was abstracted, and indisposed to converse. I knew that the anxiety which Arthur evinced, was not mainly on his own account. It did not withdraw his attention from what was passing, or diminish his interest in it. Far from being gloomy or abstracted, he was active and watchful, and spoke with heartiness and cheerfulness. His mental disquietude only appeared, in a certain softness and tremor of his voice, especially when speaking to Johnny, who, as the night drew on, asked him over and over again, at short intervals, "Don't you think, Arthur, that we shall certainly find land to-morrow?" This was truly distressing. As to Max, his feelings rose and fell capriciously, and without any apparent cause; he was sanguine or depressed, not from a consideration of all our circumstances, and a favourable or unfavourable conclusion drawn therefrom; but according as this view or that, for the moment, impressed his mind. He rendered no reasons for his hopes or his fears. At one moment, you would judge from his manner and conversation that we were indeed out upon some "holy day excursion," with no serious danger impending over us; the next, without any thing to account for the change, he would appear miserably depressed and wretched. Soon after sunset the moon rose--pale and dim at first, but shining out with a clearer and brighter radiance, as the darkness increased. The wind held steadily from the same quarter, and it was determined to continue through the night, the arrangement for taking charge of the sailing of the boat, in turn. Browne and Max insisted on sharing between themselves the watch for the entire night, saying that they had taken no part in that of the one previous, and that it would be useless to divide the twelve hours of darkness into more than two watches. This was finally agreed upon, the wind being so moderate that the same person could steer the yawl and manage the sail without difficulty. Before lying down, I requested Max, who took the first turn, to awake me at the same time with Browne, a part of whose watch I intended to share. I fell asleep, looking up at the moon, and the light clouds sailing across the sky, and listening to the motion of the water beneath the boat. At first I slumbered lightly, without losing a sort of dreamy consciousness, so that I heard Max humming over to himself fragments of tunes, and odd verses of old songs, and even knew when he shifted his position in the stern, from one side to the other. At length I must have fallen into a deep sleep: I do not know how long it had lasted, (it seemed to me but a short time), when I was aroused by an exclamation, from Max, as I at first supposed; but on sitting up I saw that Browne was at the helm, while Max was sleeping at my side. On perceiving that I was awake, Browne, from whom the exclamation had proceeded, pointed to something in the water, just astern. Following the direction of his finger with my eye, I saw, just beneath the surface, a large ghastly-looking white shark, gliding stealthily along, and apparently following the boat. Browne said that he had first noticed it about half an hour before, since which time it had steadily followed us, occasionally making a leisurely circuit round the boat, and then dropping astern again. A moment ago, having fallen into a doze at the helm, and awaking with a start, he found himself leaning over the gunwale, and the shark just at his elbow. This had startled him, and caused the sudden exclamation by which I had been aroused. I shuddered at his narrow escape, and I acknowledge that the sight of this hideous and formidable creature, stealing along in our wake, and manifesting an intention to keep us company, caused me some uneasy sensations. He swam with his dorsal fin almost at the surface, and his broad nose scarcely three feet from the rudder. His colour rendered him distinctly visible. "What a spectre of a fish it is," said Browne, "with his pallid, corpse-like skin, and noiseless motion; he has no resemblance to any of the rest of his kind, that I have ever seen. You know what the sailors would say, if they should see him dogging us in this way; Old Crosstrees, or Spot, would shake their heads ominously, and set us down as a doomed company." "Aside from any such superstitious notions, he is an unpleasant and dangerous neighbour, and we must be circumspect while he is prowling about." "It certainly won't do to doze at the helm," resumed Browne; "I consider that I have just now had a really narrow escape. I was leaning quite over the gunwale; a lurch of the boat would have thrown me overboard, and then there would have been no chance for me." There would not, in fact, have been the shadow of a chance. "Even as it was," resumed he, "if this hideous-looking monster had been as active and vigilant as some of his tribe, it would have fared badly with me. I have heard of their seizing persons standing on the shore, where the water was deep enough to let them swim close in; and Spot tells of a messmate of his, on one of his voyages in a whaler, who was carried off, while standing entirely out of water, on the carcass of a whale, which he was assisting in cutting up, as it lay alongside the ship. The shark threw himself upon the carcass, five or six yards from where the man was busy;--worked himself slowly along the slippery surface, until within reach of his victim; knocked him off into the water, and then sliding off himself, seized and devoured him." Picking my way carefully among the sleepers, who covered the bottom of the yawl, I sat down beside Browne in the stern, intending to share the remainder of his watch. It was now long past midnight; fragments of light clouds were scattered over the sky, frequently obscuring the moon; and the few stars that were visible, twinkled faintly with a cold and distant light. The Southern Cross, by far the most brilliant constellation of that hemisphere, was conspicuous among the clusters of feebler luminaries. Well has it been called "the glory of the southern skies." Near the zenith, and second only to the Cross in brilliancy, appeared the Northern Crown, consisting of seven large stars, so disposed as to form the outline of two-thirds of an oval. Of the familiar constellations of the northern hemisphere, scarcely one was visible, except Orion, and the Pleiades. At length the moon descended behind a bank of silvery clouds, piled up along the horizon. The partial obscurity that ensued, only added to the grandeur of the midnight scene, as we sat gazing silently abroad upon the confused mass of swelling waters, stretching away into the gloom. But if the scene was grand, it was also desolate; we two were perhaps the only human beings, for many hundreds of miles, who looked forth upon it. Our companions were wrapped in unconsciousness, and their deep and regular breathing attested the soundness of their slumbers. As the light failed more and more, and the shadows deepened, the sea began to assume a beautiful and striking appearance, gleaming in places with a bluish lambent light, and exhibiting, where the water was most agitated, large luminous patches. Thin waves of flame curled over our bow, and whenever a sea broke upon it, it seemed as though the boat was plunging through surges of fire. A long brilliant line, thickly strewn on each side, with little globules of the colour of burning coals, marked our wake. But the shark, which still followed close behind our keel, presented by far the most singular and striking spectacle. He seemed to be surrounded by a luminous medium; and his nose, his dorsal and side fins, and his tail, each had attached to them slender jets of phosphoric fire. Towards morning this brilliant appearance began to fade, and soon vanished altogether. By this time I found it difficult to keep my eyes open longer, and leaving Browne to finish his watch alone, I resumed my place on the ceiling planks, and in spite of the hardness of my bed, which caused every bone in my body to ache, soon slept soundly. When I again awoke, it was long after sunrise, and we were lying completely becalmed. A school of large fish were pursuing their gambols at a short distance, and Browne was rowing cautiously toward them, while Arthur and Morton stood prepared to attack them with their cutlasses as soon as we should get within striking distance. We had got almost among them, and were just beginning to congratulate ourselves upon their apparent indifference to our approach, when they all at once scattered in every direction, with manifest signs of terror. The cause of this sudden movement was not long concealed; a brace of sharks rose in their very midst; one was visible but for a moment as he rolled over to seize his prey; the other, less successful in securing a victim, shot past us, like an arrow, in pursuit of a large division of the fugitives. Soon after, both of them were seen playing around the boat. They belonged to the species known as the tiger shark, and bore no resemblance to our ghastly visitor of the preceding evening. By the consternation which their sudden appearance had produced among the lesser fishes, they had in all probability robbed us of our breakfast. Morton, with his characteristic enterprise, suggested an attack upon one of them by way of reprisals; but before any measures for that purpose could be taken, they disappeared, leaving us with no other resource than to await our fate with such patience and resignation as we could command. The wind having entirely failed, there was nothing that we could do to change our situation--absolutely nothing. This forced inaction, with no occupation for mind or body, no object of effort, contributed to enhance whatever was painful in our condition, by leaving us to brood over it. The dead calm which had fallen upon the sea, seemed all that was necessary to complete our misery. We were all stiff and sore, from the exceedingly uncomfortable sleeping accommodations of the last two nights; but this was a comparatively trifling evil. Johnny had a severe cold, his eyes were inflamed and bloodshot, and he exhibited also strong symptoms of fever. Nevertheless, silent and uncomplaining, he came and sat down quietly by the side of Arthur in the stern. As the day advanced, the heat became dreadful. We had not suffered much from it the day before, on account of the fresh breeze which had prevailed; but now, not a breath of air was stirring, and the glassy sea reflected back upon us the scorching rays of the sun, with increased intensity. Towards noon, it exceeded any thing I had ever experienced. The whole arch of the heavens glowed with a hot and coppery glare. It seemed as though instead of one sun, there were ten thousand, covering all the sky, and blending their rays into a broad canopy of fire. The air was like that of an oven: the water had no coolness, no refreshing quality; it was tepid and stagnant: no living thing was to be seen near the surface, for life could not be sustained there; and the fishes, great and small, kept themselves in the cooler depths, far below. Almost stifled by the heat, we began to experience the first real and extreme suffering that most of us had ever known. At Arthur's suggestion, we disengaged the now useless sail from the mast, and contrived a kind of awning, by fastening two of the oars upright in the boat, with the mast extending between them, throwing the sail over the latter, and securing the ends to the gunwales. This, although it could not protect us from the sultry and suffocating air, warded off the blistering beams of the sun, and during the greater part of the day, we lay crouched beneath it, a miserable company; one or another of us crawling out occasionally, to take a survey. Towards the close of the afternoon, my sufferings from thirst grew absolutely intolerable, and amounted to torment. My blood became fevered; my brain seemed on fire; my shrunk and shrivelled tongue, was like a dry stick in my mouth. The countenances of my companions, their bloodshot eyes, and cracked and swollen lips, shewed what they were undergoing. Johnny lay in the bottom of the boat with his eyes shut enduring all, with as much fortitude as the rest of us, except that now and then a half suppressed moan escaped him. It was quite clear that relief, in order to be of any avail, must be speedy. CHAPTER SEVEN. A CHANGE. A WELCOME PERIL--THE ALBATROSS AND THEIR PREY--A TROPICAL THUNDER-STORM. "Eternal Providence, exceeding thought, Where none appears, can make itself a way." While lying crouched under the sail, almost gasping for breath, near the middle, as I suppose, of that terrible afternoon, I all at once became sensible of a perceptible cooling of the atmosphere, and a sudden decrease of light. Looking out to discover the cause of this change, I perceived that the sky was overcast, and that a light, unsteady breeze from the north-west had sprung up. Knowing that within the tropics, and near the line, winds from that quarter frequently precede a storm, and that great extremes of heat are often succeeded by violent gales, I observed, with apprehension, dark masses of clouds gathering in the north. It would not require a tempest to insure our destruction; for our little craft could not live a moment, even in such a gale as would be attended by no danger to a staunch ship with plenty of sea room. The temperature had fallen many degrees, though the wind was still moderate and unsteady, ranging from west to north-east. The sun was completely obscured, so that the awning was no longer needed, and we pulled it down, in order the more fully to enjoy the breeze, and the delicious coolness of the darkened atmosphere, to the gratefulness of which, not even our awakening apprehensions could render us insensible. While observing the strange appearance of the sky, and like preparations for a storm which seemed to be going on in the north and west, Morton espied a troop of Flying-fish a hundred yards or so to windward. Fluttering feebly a short distance in the air, they would drop into the sea, soon emerging, however, for a fresh flight; thus, alternately swimming and flying, they were steadily approaching; and from their rapid and confused motions, it was evident that they were hard pressed by some of the numerous and greedy persecutors of their helpless race; from whom they were struggling to escape. Presently, a glittering Albatross shot from the water, close in the tract of the fugitives, descending again in the graceful curve peculiar to his active and beautiful, but rapacious tribe. Another and another followed, their golden scales flashing in the light, as they leaped clear of the water, sometimes two or three together. We hastily made ready to attack both pursuers and pursued, the instant they should come within reach. The course of the chase brought them directly towards us, until the hunted fishes fell in a glittering shower, so near, that I feared they might pass under the boat before rising again; but they came to the surface close beside us, and as they fluttered into the air, we knocked down six or seven of them, and caught a number more, that dropped into the boat. Morton and Max, ambitious of larger game, devoted their attention to the Albatross, and slashed and thrust furiously, at such as came within reach of their cutlasses; which many of them did. Some darted under the boat, instead of sheering round it; and one enormous fellow, miscalculating in his haste our draught of water, must have scraped all the fins off his back against the keel, as he performed this manoeuvre; for the shock of the contact, caused the yawl to tremble from stem to stern. But such was the marvellous celerity of their movements, that though they came within easy striking distance, all the hostile demonstrations of Max and Morton proved futile. The Flying-fish which had been taken, were divided and apportioned with scrupulous exactness, and devoured with very little ceremony. The only dressing or preparation bestowed upon them, consisted simply in stripping off the long shining pectoral fins, or wings, (they serve as both), without paying much attention to such trifling matters as scales, bones, and the lesser fins. Max, indeed, began to nibble rather fastidiously at first, at this raw food, which a minute before had been so full of life and activity; but his appetite improved as he proceeded, and he at last so far got the better of his scruples, as to leave nothing of his share except the tails, and very little even of those. Hunger, in fact, made this repast, which would have been revolting under ordinary circumstances, not only acceptable, but positively delicious. Meantime, the dark mass of clouds in the north had extended itself, and drawn nearer to us. Another tempest seemed to be gathering in the west, while in the south, a violent thunder-storm appeared to be actually raging: the lightning in that quarter was vivid and almost incessant, but we could hear no thunder, the storm being still at a considerable distance. Immediately around us all was yet comparatively calm, but the heavy clouds, gathering on three sides, seemed gradually converging towards a common centre; a short abrupt cross sea, began to form, and the water assumed a glistening inky hue. There was something peculiar and striking in the appearance of the clouds surrounding us; they seemed to rest upon the surface of the ocean, and towered upward like a dark wall to the skies. Their upper extremities were torn and irregular, and long narrow fragments, like giant arms, streamed out from the main body, and extended over us, as if beckoning each other to a nearer approach, and threatening to unite their gloomy array overhead, and shut out the light of day. As they drew nearer to one another, the lightning began to dart from cloud to cloud, while the most terrific peals of thunder that I have ever heard, rolled and reverberated on every side. We appeared to be surrounded by storms, some of which were very near, for the deep crash of the thunder, followed close upon the vivid lightnings that flashed in the south and west. Still the narrow space of sky directly overhead was clear, and the war of elements which was raging all around did not extend to our immediate neighbourhood. Against the dark sides of the cloudy pavilion that encompassed us, the sharp, zigzag lines of lightning, as they ran from the sky to the ocean, shone out with a blinding glare. A single half-hour had sufficed to change every thing about us. The brazen, burning sky, was transformed into a cold, clear expanse, of a bluish black. The sea, no longer stagnant and glassy, was fretted by short inky waves, with creamy crests, that gave it altogether a new aspect. The air was now fresh and cool, and the wind rising and falling fitfully, at one moment scarcely lifted our hair or stirred our garments, and the next, tore off the entire crests of waves, and scattered them over us in a shower of spray. For nearly an hour we remained apprehensive that the wind might increase to a gale. At the end of about that time, it came gradually round to the south-east, growing steady, but by no means violent, and the storms moved off in a westerly direction. One heavy cloud, as it slowly passed over toward that quarter, discharged a grateful shower of rain. We hastily spread the sail, and some of our garments, to gather the precious drops. The shower lasted only a few minutes, but during that time it rained briskly. I never shall forget my sensations as I stood with face upturned, while the big drops, more delicious than ambrosia, came pelting down. It was far better and more strengthening than food, or any medicine or cordial could have been, and seemed to infuse fresh life into us all. When it was over, we wrung out from the saturated canvass, and from our clothing, water enough to mitigate for the time, though by no means to satisfy, the raging thirst from which we had suffered so intensely. Arthur had at first taken out of the locker the large bottle which had been found there, in the hope of being able to hoard up a small supply for the future; but there was not a drop of surplus for such a purpose, and he was obliged to put it back again empty as before. CHAPTER EIGHT. TOKENS OF LAND. THE CENTRE OF THE SPHERE--THE MYSTERIOUS SOUND--THE CONFLAGRATION. "Thou glorious sea! before me gleaming, Oft wilt thou float in sunset pride, And often shall I hear in dreaming, Thy resonance at evening tide!" At sunset every trace of the storms by which we had been so recently encompassed had vanished: the sky, except along the western horizon, was without a cloud: not a breath of wind ruffled the sea, and we lay once more completely becalmed. This was our third night at sea; though to me, at least, it seemed that many days had passed since the mutiny and the immediately succeeding occurrences. It is a night which I shall not soon forget; the impression of its almost unearthly beauty is still fresh and vivid, and haunts me like a vision of fairy land. At this moment if I but close my eyes, the whole scene rises before me with the distinctness of a picture; though one would naturally suppose that persons situated as we then were, could scarcely have been in a state of mind congenial to the reception of such impressions. The transition from early twilight to the darkness of night was beautiful beyond description. The array of clouds in the west just after sunset; their forms, arrangement, and colours; with the manner in which they blended and melted into one another, composed a spectacle, of the magnificence of which, neither language, nor the art of the painter, can convey any adequate idea. Along the edge of the horizon stretched a broad tract of the deepest crimson, reflecting far upon the waters, a light that gave them the appearance of an ocean of blood. Above this was a band of vivid flame colour: then one of a clear translucent green, perfectly peculiar, unlike that of any leaf or gem, and of surpassing delicacy and beauty. This gradually melted, through many fine gradations, into a sea of liquid amber, so soft and golden, that the first large stars of evening, floating in its transparent depths, could scarcely be distinguished, as they twinkled mildly, amid the flood of kindred radiance. A narrow streak of pearly blue bounded this amber sea with its islands of light, and divided it from the deeper blue of the wide vault above. During the earlier part of this glorious display, the eastern sky, as if in rivalry of the splendour of the opposite quarter of the heavens, was spanned by two concentric rainbows, describing complete semi-circles, with their bases resting upon the sea. In the smaller and interior bow, all the colours were beautifully distinct; in the outer and larger one, they were less brilliant, and arranged in an order the reverse of that which is usual, the violet being the lowest instead of the red. The rainbows vanished with the sun, and soon afterwards the fiery glow in the west began to fade. But the scene only changed its character, without losing any of its beauty. So smooth was the sea on that night that the whole dome of the sky, with every sailing cloudflake, and every star, was perfectly reflected in it. Until the moon rose, the line where the sky joined the ocean was indistinctly defined, and the two were so blended together, that we actually seemed suspended in the centre of a vast sphere; the heavens, instead of terminating at the horizon, extended, spangled with stars, on every side--below, as well as above, and around. The illusion was wonderfully perfect; you almost held your breath as you glanced downward, and could hardly refrain from starting nervously, so strong and bewildering was the appearance of hanging poised in empty space. Johnny, who had been sitting for a long time with his hands supporting his head, and his elbows resting upon Arthur's knee, gazing out upon the ocean, suddenly looked up into his face, and said-- "Arthur, I want you to tell me truly--do you still believe that we shall be saved--do you hope so now, as you did yesterday, or do you think that we must perish!" "Do you suppose that I would try to deceive you, Johnny," said Arthur, "that you ask me so earnestly to tell you truly?" "No, but I feared you would not, perhaps, tell me the worst, thinking that I could not bear it: and I suspected to-night, that you spoke more cheerfully than you felt on my account. But I am not afraid, dear Arthur, to know the truth; and do not hide it from me! I will try to bear patiently, with you, and with the rest whatever comes upon us." "I would not deceive you about such a matter, Johnny. I should not think it right, though you are so young. But I can know nothing certainly. We are in the hands of God. I have told you all the reasons we have to hope; we have the same reasons still. Only a few hours ago, the sea supplied us with food, and the clouds with drink: why may we not hope for future supplies according to our need? I think we yet have more reason to hope than to despair." "Did you ever know, or hear of such a thing," inquired Johnny, after a pause, "as a company of boys, like us, starving at sea?" "I do not remember that I have, under circumstances at all similar to ours," answered Arthur. "It is too dreadful to believe! Is not God, our Father in heaven? He will not surely let us perish so miserably." "_Yes_, Johnny," said Arthur gently, but earnestly, "God is our heavenly Father; but we must not make our belief in his love and goodness, a ground of confidence that any suffering, however terrible, shall not befall us. The young suffer and die, as well as the old; the good, as well as the bad. Not only the strong martyrs, who triumphed while they were tortured, but feeble old men, and little children, have been torn in pieces by wild beasts, or burned alive, or cast down precipices. And these things, that seemed so very hard to us, God has permitted. Yet he is good, and loves and cares for us as a father. This we must believe, and hold fast to, in spite of every thing that in our ignorance may seem to contradict it. If we feel as we ought, and as by his grace we may, we shall be able to trust all to him, with sweet resignation." "But is it not very hard, dear Arthur, to be left to die so!--and God can save us so easily, if he will." Arthur was deeply affected: the tears filled his eyes as he took Johnny upon his knee, and tried to explain to him how wrong and selfish it would be, to make our belief in the goodness of God, depend upon our rescue and preservation. It was a difficult task, perhaps an untimely one, as Max hinted. But Johnny gradually sobbed away his excitement, and became soothed and calm. "Well," said he, after a while, drawing a long breath, and wiping away his tears, "I know one thing: whatever may happen, we will be kind and true to one another to the last, and never think of such inhuman things as I have read of shipwrecked people doing, when nearly dead with hunger, though we all starve together." "Come to me, Johnny," cried Browne, with a faltering voice, "I must kiss you for those words. Yes, we will perish, if we must, like brothers, not sullenly, as if none had ever suffered evil before us. Weak and gentle spirits have borne without repining, sufferings as great as threaten us. Often has my mother told me the story of sweet Marjory Wilson, drowned in the Solway water, in the days of Claverhouse, because she met with her friends and kindred to worship God after their manner-- and never could I listen to it without tears. Ah, what a spirit was there! She was but eighteen, and she could have saved her life by saying a few words. Life was as sweet to her as it is to us: she too had a home and friends and kindred, whom it must have been hard for the poor young thing to leave so suddenly and awfully. And yet she refused to speak those words--she chose to die rather. They took her out upon the sand where the tide was rising fast, and bound her to a stake. Soon the water came up to her face. She saw it go over the head of a poor old woman, whom they had tied farther out than herself. She saw her death struggles; she heard her gasp for breath, as she choked and strangled in the yellow waves. Ah! she must have had courage from the Lord, or that sight would have made her young heart fail. Once more, and for the last time, the king's officer asked her to make the promise never to attend a conventicle again. He urged it, for he pitied her youth and innocence. Her friends and neighbours begged her to save her life. `O speak, dear Marjory!' they cried, `and make the promise; it can't be wrong. Do it for our sakes, dear Marjory, and they will let you go!' But she would not save her life by doing what she had been taught to think was wrong; and while the swirling waves of the Solway were rising fast around her, she prayed to God, and kept singing fragments of psalms, till the water choked her voice--and so she perished. But, O friends! to know that such things have been; that spirits gentle and brave as this have lived, makes it easier to suffer courageously." "Horrible!" exclaimed Max, "I seem to see all that you have so graphically told. But how stern and cruel the teachers who would sacrifice human life rather than abate their own sullen obstinacy, even in trifles--who could encourage this innocent but misguided girl, in her refusal to save her life by the harmless promise to attend a church instead of a conventicle." Just as Browne was commencing an eager and indignant reply to Max's rash reflections upon the strictness of covenanting teachings, we were suddenly startled by a deep and solemn sound, which seemed to come from a distance. While we listened intently, it was several times repeated at short intervals of about fifteen seconds, each time more distinctly than before. It resembled somewhat, the deepest tones of a powerful organ, heard for an instant, and then abruptly stopped. Nothing was to be seen in the direction from which it seemed to proceed, but the sea glittering in the moonlight. Is it to be wondered at, if we listened with feelings, tinged with superstitious awe, to that strange sound, heard under such circumstances, and at such an hour? Johnny nestled closer to Arthur's side, and I thought that the faces of my companions grew visibly pale. Even Arthur looked perplexed and disturbed. "What _can_ that be?" said Morton, after a few minutes of almost breathless silence, during which we had listened in vain for its repetition. "It is certainly very strange," said Arthur. "I never heard any thing at sea, at all like it, but once, and it is impossible that this can be what I then heard--but hark!" And again the same deep pealing sound was repeated several times, at shorter intervals, but more faintly than before; after continuing for a few minutes it ceased again. "What was the sound which you speak of, as resembling this?" asked Morton, when all was silent once more. "It was the cry of a kind of penguin, found at the Falkland Islands; when heard on shore it is harsh and loud; but a short distance at sea, and in the night, it has a pealing, solemn sound, like that which we have just heard." "It must come from land in the neighbourhood," said Morton, "we can probably hear farther on such a night as this than we can distinguish land." "Yes, sounds on the water, in calm still nights, when there is no wind, can be heard at great distances," said Arthur; "it is said that the `All's well!' of the British sentinel at Gibraltar, is sometimes heard across the strait, on the African shore, a distance of thirteen miles. I have seen, at the Society Islands, native drums made of large hollow logs, which might perhaps, at a distance, sound like what we heard a moment ago. A Wesleyan missionary there, once told me of a great drum that he saw at the Tonga Islands, called the `Tonga Toki,' which sounded like an immense gong, and could be heard from seven to ten miles." "Why, I thought that _this_ sounded like a gong," said Johnny, "perhaps we are near some island now; but what could they be drumming for so late in the night?" "There would be nothing very unusual about that," said Arthur. "The Areoi Societies, which are extended over most of the larger inhabited islands in this part of the Pacific, sometimes hold their great celebrations, like the pow-wows, and war-dances, of our American Indians, in the night-time. At the Feejee Islands they have a strange ceremony called `Tambo Nalanga,' which they celebrate at night, with the beating of drums, the blowing of conches, and a number of savage and cruel rites. Something or other of the same kind is observed at most of the islands, though under different names, and with slight variations." While speculating in this way, and endeavouring to account for the noise which had startled us so much, we all at once became aware of an increasing light in the south, the `Cross,' now half-way between the horizon and the zenith, enabling us to fix the points of the compass. As we gazed in that direction, the sky became strongly illuminated by a red glare, and an immense column of flame and smoke was seen shooting up in the distance. Nothing but the expanse of the ocean, splendidly illuminated, and glowing like a sea of fire, could be discerned by this light. Whether it was caused by a burning ship, at such a distance that nothing but the light of her conflagration was visible, or by a fire on some distant island, we could not determine. It was in the same quarter from which the sound had seemed to come. Arthur was now of the opinion that we were in the neighbourhood of an inhabited island, or group, and that the light proceeded from the burning beche-de-mer house of some successful trader, who had set fire to it, (as is their custom at the end of a prosperous season), to prevent it from falling into the hands of others in the same business. We all grasped eagerly at this idea, for the probability that we were not only in the neighbourhood of land, but of a place where we should meet with Europeans, and have an opportunity of getting home, or perhaps to the places of our respective destination, was full of encouragement. In a very short time the conflagration was over, and a dark column of smoke, which marked the spot where it had raged, was lifted slowly into the air. We heard no more of the mysterious sound. None of the explanations suggested were so perfectly satisfactory, as to remove entirely the unpleasant impression which it had produced. Before lying down in our accustomed places, we made our usual arrangements as to the watch, unnecessary as it seemed, during the calm. CHAPTER NINE. DARK WATERS. SUFFERING AND DELIRIUM--THE MIDNIGHT BATH--A STRANGE PERIL. "Water, water, everywhere, And all the boards did shrink; Water, water, everywhere-- But not a drop to drink." Several times in the course of the night, I was awakened by confused noises, like the blowing of porpoises, or the spouting of whales; but the sky had become overcast, and it had grown so dark, that on getting up and looking about, I could see nothing of the creatures producing these sounds. My slumbers were broken and uneasy, and in the morning I found myself suffering from a dull, heavy pain in the head, accompanied by a slight nausea, and a general feeling of languor and weakness. Even to get upon my feet required something of an effort, which I made, impelled rather by a dim, confused sense of duty, than by any spontaneous impulse or inclination: had I consulted inclination alone, I believe I should have remained passive, and let things take their course. The occurrences of the last night had given rise to some faint expectation that by daylight we should discover land in sight to the southward, where we had seen the great light. But nothing was visible in that or any other quarter. Possessed by some hope of this kind, Arthur had been up, searching the horizon, since the first streak of day in the east. He showed me a large green branch which he had picked up as it floated near us. By the elegantly scolloped leaves, of a dark and glossy green, it was easily recognised as a branch of the bread-fruit tree; and from their bright, fresh colour, and the whiteness of the wood, where it had joined the trunk, it must have been torn off quite recently. The calm still continued. Immense schools of black-fish, or porpoises, or some similar species, could be seen about half a mile distant, passing westward, in an apparently endless line. The temporary beneficial effect of yesterday's scanty supply of food and drink, had passed away entirely, and all seemed to feel in a greater or less degree, the bodily pain and weakness, and the lassitude and indisposition to any kind of effort, by which I was affected. To such an extent was this the case, that when Arthur proposed that we should row towards the school of fish in sight, and try to take some of them, the strongest disinclination to make any such attempt was evinced, and it was only after much argument and persuasion, and by direct personal appeals to us individually, that he overcame this strange torpor, and induced us to take to the oars. On getting near enough to the objects of our pursuit to distinguish them plainly, we were sorry to find that they were Porpoises instead of black-fish, as we had at first supposed; the former being shy and timid, and much more difficult to approach than the latter; and so they proved at present. Still we persevered for a while; the hope of obtaining food having been once excited, we were almost as reluctant to abandon the attempt as we had been at first to commence it. But after half an hour's severe labour at the oars, we were obliged to give it up as quite hopeless, and soon afterward the last of the long column passed beyond pursuit, leaving us completely disheartened and worn out. The sail was again arranged so as to shelter us as much as possible from the sun, and Arthur commenced distributing the leaves and twigs of the bread-fruit branch, suggesting that some slight refreshment might perhaps be derived from chewing them. But they retained a saline taste from having been in the sea-water, and no one proceeded far with the experiment. Morton cut some small slips of leather from his boots, and began to chew them. He fancied that they afforded some nourishment, and recommended the rest of us to make a similar trial, which I believe we all did. Max almost immediately rejected with disgust the first morsel which he put into his mouth, saying that he must "starve a little longer before he could relish that." At noon the heat was more intense, if possible, than it had been the day before. Johnny was now in a high fever, accompanied by symptoms of an alarming character. It was distressing to witness his sufferings, and feel utterly unable to do any thing for him. Yet there was nothing that we could do--food and drink were the only medicines he needed, and these we could not give him. Towards the close of the afternoon he became delirious, and began to cry out violently and incessantly for water. His voice seemed to have changed, and could now scarcely be recognised. There was something very strange and horrible in the regular, unceasing cries which he uttered, and which sounded at times almost like the howlings of a brute. Arthur had made a sort of bed for him, to which each of us contributed such articles of clothing as could be spared. It was now necessary to watch him every moment and frequently to use force to keep him from getting overboard. At one time, having got to the side of the boat, before he could be prevented, he commenced dipping up the sea-water with his hand, and would have drunk it had he not been forcibly restrained. After this had lasted nearly two hours, he suddenly ceased his struggles and violent cries, and began to beg piteously for "a drink of water." This he continued for a considerable time, repeatedly asking Arthur to tell him _why_ he could not have "just a little," since there was "such a plenty of it." It is impossible to describe the horrible and sickening effect of all this upon us, in the state of utter physical prostration to which we had been gradually reduced. Browne and Arthur watched over Johnny with all the care and patient unwearying kindness that a mother could have shown; and they would not permit the rest of us to relieve them for a moment, or to share any part of their charge, painful and distressing as it was. Twice, when it became necessary to hold the little sufferer fast, to prevent him from getting over the gunwale, he spat fiercely in Arthur's face, struggling and crying out with frightful vehemence. But Browne's voice seemed to soothe and control him, and when Johnny spoke to him, it was gently, and in the language of entreaty. Towards night he became more quiet, and at last sunk into a kind of lethargy, breathing deeply and heavily, but neither speaking nor moving, except to turn from one side to the other, which he did at nearly regular intervals. This change relieved us from the necessity of constantly watching and restraining him, but Arthur viewed it as an unfavourable and alarming symptom; he seemed now more completely depressed than I had ever before seen him, and to be overcome at last by grief, anxiety, and the horrors of our situation. The heat did not abate in the least with the going down of the sun, but the night, though very close and sultry, was calm and beautiful, like the last. Soon after the moon rose, Max and Morton undressed, and bathed themselves in the sea. The smooth moonlit water looked so cool and inviting, that the rest of us soon followed their example, notwithstanding the danger from sharks. We were all good swimmers, but no one ventured far from the boat except Morton; I found that a few strokes quite exhausted me, and I was obliged to turn and cling to the gunwale. In fact, so great was the loss of strength which we had all suffered, that we came near perishing in a very singular and almost incredible manner: After having been in the water a sufficient time, as I thought, I discovered, on trying to get into the boat again, that I was utterly unable to do so, through sheer weakness. At the same time I observed Max making a similar attempt nearer the stern, with no better success. We were all in the water except Johnny; any difficulty in getting into the boat again had not been dreamed of; but I began now to feel seriously alarmed. My feet were drawn forcibly under the boat's bottom, and even to maintain my hold of the gunwale, as we rose and sunk with the swell, required an exhausting effort, which I knew I could not long continue. Arthur was swimming near the stern, holding on to the end of a rope, which he had cast over before coming in. By great exertion I raised myself so far as to be able to look over the gunwale, when I saw Browne in the same position directly opposite me. "Can't you get into the boat!" I asked. "Really, I don't think I can," said he, speaking like a person exhausted. "I can't," added Max, faintly, "it is as much as I can do to maintain my hold." At this moment a voice was heard, calling out apparently from a distance, "Hilloa! where are you? Hilloa!" It was hoarse, strained, and distressed. Almost immediately the cry was repeated, much nearer at hand, as it seemed; and then, a third time, faint, and distant as at first. I was horror-stricken; the cry sounded strange and fearful, and I did not recognise the voice. Then it occurred to me that it must be Morton, who had swum out farther than the rest, and losing sight of the boat for a moment in the swell of the sea, had become bewildered and alarmed. This might easily happen; if but the length of a wave distant we should be invisible to him, unless both should chance to rise on the swell at the same time. The moon, too, had just passed behind a dark mass of cloud, and the sea lay in partial obscurity. I now heard Browne and Arthur shouting, in order, as I supposed, to guide Morton by the sound of their voices. I, too, called out as loudly as I was able. For a moment all was still again. Then I heard some one say, "There he is!" and a dark speck appeared on the crest of a wave a little to the right. At this moment the moon shone out brightly! and I saw that it was Morton, swimming toward us. He reached the boat panting and out of breath, and catching hold near me with an almost convulsive effort, remained some minutes without being able to speak a word. Arthur, who had observed Max's struggles to get into the yawl, now swam round to where Morton and I were hanging on, and taking hold also, his additional weight depressed the gunwale nearly to the water's edge, when he got his knee over it, and at last, by a sudden effort rolled into the boat. He then helped me to get in, and we two the rest. Morton said that after swimming but a short distance from the boat, as he supposed, he found himself getting tired and very weak, and on turning, greatly to his surprise, could see nothing of us. In reality, however, there was nothing surprising in this, his face being on a level with the surface, and the boat with neither sail nor mast up, being much less in height than the long smooth swells. Perceiving how great was his danger, and becoming somewhat alarmed, he had called out in the manner described: when he heard us shouting in return, he was actually swimming _away_ from us, and it was only by following the direction of our voices that he had at last reached the boat. That night we kept no regular watch as we had hitherto done, or at least we made no arrangement for that purpose, though one or another of us was awake most of the time, watching Johnny, who continued, however, in the same deep lethargic slumber. For my part, it was a long time before I could sleep at all. There was something in the fate that threatened us, more appalling than the terrors of death. The impressions produced by the ravings, and cries, and struggles, of our poor little fellow-sufferer were yet fresh, and they could not be effaced. All in vain I strove to control the workings of my morbidly excited imagination--I could not shut out the fearful thoughts and anticipations which the occurrences of the day so naturally and obviously suggested. The lapse of twenty-four hours might find us all reduced to the same helpless state, deprived of consciousness and reason. One after another must succumb to the fever and become delirious, until he who should last fall its victim, should find himself alone in the midst of his stricken and raving companions--alone retaining reason, no longer to be accounted a blessing, since it could only serve to make him sensible to all the accumulated horrors of his situation. I shuddered as I contemplated the possibility that I might be the most wretched one, the last of all to sink and perish. At length, I began to imagine that my mind was actually beginning to fail, and that I was becoming delirious. At first it was but a fearful suspicion. Soon, however, it took such strong possession of me, that I was compelled to relinquish all thought of sleep. Sitting up, I saw that Arthur was awake and by the side of Johnny. His face was upturned, and his hands clasped as if in prayer. I could see his lips move, and even the tears trickling from beneath his closed lids, for the moonlight fell upon his countenance. He did not observe me, and after a few moments he laid down again without speaking, and soon appeared to slumber like the rest. Pressing my hands to my head, I leaned over the stern, my face almost touching the water. A current of cooler air was stirring close to the surface, as if it were the breathing of the sea, for there was no wind. How preternaturally still every thing seemed--what an intensity of silence! How softly the pale moonlight rested upon the water! A grand and solemn repose wrapped the heavens and the ocean--no sound beneath all that vast blue dome--no motion, but the heaving of the long sluggish swell. Gradually I became calmer; the excitement and perturbation of my mind began to subside, and at length I felt as though I could sleep. As I resumed my place by the side of Browne, he moved, as if about to awake, and murmured indistinctly some broken sentences. From the words that escaped him, he was dreaming of that far-off home which he was to behold no more. In fancy he was wandering again by the banks of the Clyde, the scene of many a school-boy ramble. But it seemed as though the shadow of present realities darkened even his dreams, and he beheld these familiar haunts no longer in the joyous light of early days. "How strange it looks!" he muttered slowly, "how dark the river is--how deep and dark!--it seems to me it was not so _then_, Robert." Truly, companion in suffering, this is no falsely coloured dream of thine, for we have all come at last into deep and dark waters! CHAPTER TEN. A SAIL. THE CACHELOT AND HIS ASSAILANTS--THE COURSE--NEW ACQUAINTANCES. "Strange creatures round us sweep: Strange things come up to look at us, The monsters of the deep." The first thought that flashed through my mind with returning consciousness, in the morning, was, "This is the last day for hope-- unless relief comes to-day in some shape, we must perish." I was the first awake, and glancing at the faces of my companions lying about in the bottom of the boat, I could not help shuddering. They had a strange and unnatural look--a miserable expression of pain and weakness. All that was familiar and pleasant to look upon, had vanished from those sharpened and haggard features. Their closed eyes seemed singularly sunken; and their matted hair, sunburned skin, and soiled clothing, added something of wildness to the misery of their appearance. Browne, who had slept beside me, was breathing hard, and started every now and then, as if in pain. Johnny slumbered so peacefully, and breathed so gently, that for a moment I was alarmed, and doubted whether he was breathing at all, until I stooped down and watched him closely. There were still no indications of a breeze. A school of whales was visible about a quarter of a mile to the westward, spouting and pursuing their unwieldy sport; but I took no interest in the sight, and leaning over the gunwale, commenced bathing my head and eyes with the sea-water. While thus engaged I was startled by seeing an enormous cachelot, (the sperm-whale), suddenly break the water within fifteen yards of the boat. Its head, which composed nearly a third of its entire bulk, seemed a mountain of flesh. A couple of small calves followed it, and came swimming playfully around us. For a minute or two, the cachelot floated quietly at the surface, where it had first appeared, throwing a slender jet of water, together with a large volume of spray and vapour into the air; then rolling over upon its side, it began to lash the sea with its broad and powerful tail, every stroke of which produced a sound like the report of a cannon. This roused the sleepers abruptly, and just as they sprang up, and began to look around in astonishment, for the cause of so startling a commotion, the creature cast its misshapen head downwards, and, throwing its immense flukes high into the air, disappeared. We watched anxiously to see where it would rise, conscious of the perils of such a neighbourhood, and that even a playful movement, a random sweep of the tail, while pursuing its gigantic pastime, would be sufficient to destroy us. It came to the surface at about the same distance as before, but on the opposite side of the boat, throwing itself half out of the water as it rose: again it commenced lashing the sea violently, as if in the mere wanton display of its terrible strength, until far around, the water was one wide sheet of foam. The calves still gambolled near us, chasing each other about and under the yawl, and we might easily have killed one of them, had we not been deterred by the almost certain consequences of arousing the fury of the old whale. Meantime, the entire school seemed to be edging down towards us. There was not a breath of air, and we had no means of getting out of the way of the danger, to which we should be exposed, if among them, except by taking to the oars; and this, nothing short of the most pressing and immediate peril could induce us to do. But our attention was soon withdrawn from the herd, to the singular and alarming movements of the individual near us. Rushing along the surface for short distances, it threw itself several times half clear of the water, turning after each of these leaps, as abruptly as its unwieldy bulk would permit, and running a tilt with equal violence in the opposite direction. Once, it passed so near us, that I think I could have touched it with an oar, and we saw distinctly its small, dull eye, and the loose, wrinkled, folds of skin, about its tremendous jaws. For a minute afterwards, the boat rolled dangerously in the swell caused by the swift passage of so vast an object. Suddenly, after one of these abrupt turns, the monster headed directly towards us, and came rushing onward with fearful velocity, either not noticing us at all, or else mistaking the boat for some sea-creature, with which it designed to measure its strength. There was no time for any effort to avoid the danger; and even had there been, we were too much paralysed by its imminence, to make such an effort. The whale was scarcely twelve yards off--certainly not twenty. Behind it stretched a foaming wake, straight as an arrow. Its vast mountainous head ploughed up the waves like a ship's cutwater, piling high the foam and spray before it. To miss us was now a sheer impossibility and no earthly power could arrest the creature's career. Instant destruction appeared inevitable. I grew dizzy, and my head began to swim, while the thought flashed confusedly through my mind, that infinite wisdom had decreed that we must die, and this manner of perishing had been chosen in mercy, to spare us the prolonged horrors of starvation. What a multitude of incoherent thoughts and recollections crowded upon my mind in that moment of time! A thousand little incidents of my past life, disconnected and trivial--a shadowy throng of familiar scenes and faces, surged up before me, vividly as objects revealed for an instant by the glare of the lightning, in the gloom of a stormy night. Closing my eyes, I silently commended my soul to God, and was endeavouring to compose myself for the dreadful event when Morton sprang to his feet, and called hurriedly upon us to shout together. All seemed to catch his intention at once, and to perceive in it a gleam of hope; and standing up we raised our voices in a hoarse cry, that sounded strange and startling even to ourselves. Instantly, as it seemed, the whale drove almost perpendicularly downwards, but so great was its momentum, that its fluked tail cut the air within an oar's length of the boat as it disappeared. Whether the shout we had uttered, caused the sudden plunge to which we owed our preservation, it is impossible to decide. Notwithstanding its bulk and power, the cachelot is said to be a timid creature, except when injured or enraged, and great caution has to be exercised by whalers in approaching them. Suddenly recollecting this, the thought of undertaking to scare the formidable monster, had suggested itself to Morton, and he had acted upon it in sheer desperation, impelled by the same instinct that causes a drowning man to catch even at a straw. But, however obtained, our reprieve from danger was only momentary. The whale came to the surface at no great distance, and once more headed towards us. If frightened for an instant, it had quickly recovered from the panic, and now there was no mistaking the creature's purpose: it came on, exhibiting every mark of rage, and with jaws literally wide open. We felt that no device or effort of our own could be of any avail. We might as well hope to resist a tempest, or an earthquake, or the shock of a falling mountain, as that immense mass of matter, instinct with life and power, and apparently animated by brute fury. Every hope had vanished, and I think that we were all in a great measure resigned to death, and fully expecting it when there came, (as it seemed to us, by actual miracle), a most wonderful interposition. A dark, bulky mass, (in the utter bewilderment of the moment we noted nothing distinctly of its appearance), shot perpendicularly from the sea twenty feet into the air, and fell with a tremendous concussion, directly upon the whale's back. It must have been several tons in weight, and the blow inflicted was crushing. For a moment the whale seemed paralysed by the shock, and its vast frame quivered with agony; but recovering quickly, it rushed with open jaws upon its strange assailant which immediately dived, and both vanished. Very soon, the whale came to the surface again; and now we became the witnesses of one of those singular and tremendous spectacles, of which the vast solitudes of the tropical seas are doubtless often the theatre, but which human eyes have rarely beheld. The cachelot seemed to be attacked by two powerful confederates, acting in concert. The one assailed it from below, and continually drove it to the surface, while the other--the dark bulky object--repeated its singular attacks in precisely the same manner as at first, whenever any part of the gigantic frame of the whale was exposed, never once missing its mark, and inflicting blows, which one would think, singly sufficient to destroy any living creature. At times the conflict was carried on so near us, as to endanger our safety; and we could see all of the combatants with the utmost distinctness, though not at the same time. The first glimpse which we caught of the second antagonist of the whale, as it rose through the water to the attack, enabled us at once to identify it as that most fierce and formidable creature--the Pacific Sword-fish. The other, as I now had an opportunity to observe, was a fish of full one third the length of the whale itself, and of enormous bulk in proportion; it was covered with a dark rough skin, in appearance not unlike that of an alligator. The cachelot rushed upon its foes alternately, and the one thus singled out invariably fled, until the other had an opportunity to come to its assistance; the sword-fish swimming around in a wide circle at the top of the water, when pursued, and the other diving when chased in its turn. If the whale followed the sword-fish to the surface, it was sure to receive a stunning blow from its leaping enemy; if it pursued the latter below, the sword-fish there attacked it fearlessly, and, as it appeared, successfully, forcing it quickly back to the top of the water. Presently the battle began to recede from us, the whale evidently making towards the school, which was at no great distance; and strange as the sight was, we watched it with but a languid interest, as soon as our safety appeared to be no longer involved. The whale must have been badly hurt for the water which it threw up on coming to the surface and spouting, was tinged with blood. After this I saw no more of the sword-fish and his associate; they had probably abandoned the attack. [See note.] As nearly as I can recollect, we did not, either during the progress of the fight, or after it was over, exchange a single word on the subject, so dumb and apathetic had we become. After a while the school of whales appeared to be moving off, and in half an hour more, we lost sight of them altogether. All this while, Johnny had continued to sleep soundly, and his slumbers seemed more natural and refreshing than before. When at length he awoke, the delirium had ceased, and he was calm and gentle, but so weak that he could not sit up without being supported. After the disappearance of the whales, several hours passed, during which we lay under our awning without a word being spoken by any one. Throughout this day, the sea seemed to be alive with fish; myriads of them were to be seen in every direction; troops of agile and graceful dolphins; revolving black-fish, chased by ravenous sharks; leaping albatross, dazzling the eye with the flash of their golden scales, as they shot into the air for a moment; porpoises, bonito, flying-fish, and a hundred unknown kinds which I had never seen or heard of. At one time we were surrounded by an immense shoal of small fishes, about the size of mackerel, so densely crowded together that their backs presented an almost solid surface, on which it seemed as if one might walk dry-shod. None, however, came actually within our reach, and we made no effort to approach them. From the time of our wonderful escape from being destroyed by the whale, until the occurrence which I am about to relate, I remember nothing distinctly--all seems vague and dream-like. I could not say with confidence, from my own knowledge, whether the interval consisted of several days, or of only a few feverish and half-delirious hours; nor whether the sights and sounds of which I have a confused recollection, were real, or imaginary. I think, however, that it must have been in the afternoon of the same day, (Arthur is confident that it was), that Morton came to me as I lay in the bottom of the boat in a state of utter desperation and self-abandonment and aroused me, saying in a hoarse and painful whisper, that there was a vessel in sight. Even this announcement hardly sufficed to overcome the stupor into which I had sunk, and it was with a reluctant effort, and a feeling akin to annoyance at being disturbed, that I sat up and looked around me. My eyes were so much inflamed that I could see nothing distinctly. The first thing that I observed, was, that the calm was at an end. A breeze had sprung up, and was blowing gently but pretty steadily from the south. The surface of the sea was slightly ruffled, and its dead stagnant aspect, had given place to one of breezy freshness. In this change there was something reviving and strengthening. Far to the south, where Morton pointed out the vessel which he had discovered, I could just distinguish a white speck upon the water, which seemed more like the crest of a wave than any thing else. Morton had already called Arthur's attention to it, and he was watching it intently. Gradually it became more distinct, and in half an hour, I too, could make it out plainly, to be a small sailing vessel of some description. As she was coming directly down before the wind, there seemed to be no need of doing any thing to attract her attention. I now hastened to reanimate Max and Browne, by communicating to them the intelligence that relief was probably at hand. In three-quarters of an hour more, the strange sail was near enough to enable us to see that she was a large double canoe, such as is used by some of the islanders of the South Pacific, in their trading voyages. It had two masts, with large triangular mat-sails, and appeared to contain six or seven persons only, whom we supposed to be natives of some neighbouring island. As soon as they were within speaking distance, one of them, to our great astonishment hailed us in French. Arthur undertook to answer in the same language, when the other, probably perceiving that the French was not his native tongue, spoke to us in tolerable English, but with a strong French accent. It was easy to perceive, now that our attention was particularly called to him, that the spokesman was a European. Though almost naked like the rest, and elaborately tattooed upon the chest and shoulders, his light hair and beard, and florid though sun-burnt skin, sufficiently distinguished him from them. Of course the first thing with us, was to make known our wants, and to ask for food, and above all for water. As soon as they could bring the canoe near enough, the Frenchman watching his opportunity, reached out to us a large gourd containing water, of which we drank plentifully, passing it round several times. Arthur hastened to pour a little into Johnny's mouth, and the effect was astonishing: he seemed to revive almost instantaneously, and, sitting up, he seized the gourd himself and drank eagerly as long as Arthur would let him. The Frenchman next tossed us something wrapped in banana leaves, a thick, dark-coloured paste of some kind. It was enough that it was an article of food, and we devoured it without pausing for any very close examination, though its appearance was by no means inviting, and it had a crude and slightly acid taste. He threw us also several thin, hard cakes, similar in taste and colour to the other substance. Both were probably preparations of the bread-fruit, the latter being dried and hardened in the sun, or by fire. Ravenously hungry as we were, these supplies were divided and apportioned with the most scrupulous exactness. On finding that the natives were well supplied with water, having several large gourds full, we passed the calabash round again, until we had drained it dry, when they gave us another gourd. Meanwhile, though we were too busy to look about us much, the canoe's people watched us very narrowly, and in such a manner as to make me feel uneasy and doubtful as to their intentions, notwithstanding their kindness thus far. As soon as the first cravings of hunger and thirst were satisfied, I began to return their scrutiny, and I now observed that they differed in many respects from the Tahitians, and from all the other Polynesian tribes of which I knew any thing. Their complexion was a clear olive; their faces oval, with regular features; their hair straight and black; their eyes large, and the general expression of their countenances simple and pleasing, though there were several keen, crafty-looking faces among them. All were tattooed, more or less profusely, the chests of some resembling checker-boards, and others being ornamented with rosettes, and representations of various natural objects, as birds, fishes, trees, etcetera. Their only clothing consisted of the maro, a strip of tappa, or native cloth, tied round the loins. A wave happening to throw the boats nearly together, one of the natives caught hold of our gunwale at the stern, and another at the bow, and thus kept the canoe alongside. They now began to cast searching glances at us, and at every thing in the yawl. I observed the Frenchman intently eyeing the handle of one of the cutlasses, which protruded from beneath a fold of canvass. He inquired eagerly whether we had any fire-arms, and seemed greatly disappointed to find that we had not. He next asked for tobacco, with no better success, which apparently surprised him very much, for he shrugged his shoulders, and raised his thick eyebrows with a doubtful and incredulous look. At this moment the gilt buttons upon Max's jacket seemed to strike the fancy of one of our new friends, and excited his cupidity to such a degree, that after fixing upon them a long and admiring gaze, he suddenly reached over and made a snatch at them. He got hold of one, and in trying to pull it off came very near jerking Max overboard. Morton, who was sitting next to Max, interfered, and caught the man by the arm, with a look and manner that made me fear he might do something imprudent. The savage, who was an athletic fellow, obstinately maintained his hold of Max's jacket, and casting a ferocious glance at Morton, snatched up a short, thick paddle, and brandished it over his head as if about to strike. Arthur appealed to the Frenchman to interpose, but before he could do so, one of the natives, a handsome boy, who was seated cross-legged upon a platform between the masts, spoke to the man in a raised voice, and with an air of authority, whereupon, to my surprise, he immediately dropped the paddle, and sullenly desisted from his attempt. This lad, who seemed to be so promptly obeyed, did not look to be more than thirteen or fourteen years of age. His voice was soft and girlish; he had a remarkably open and pleasing countenance, and surveyed us with an air of friendly interest, very different from the sinister and greedy looks of several of the others, including the Frenchman himself. In answer to the questions of the latter, Arthur told him that we were Americans, and related very briefly how we had come into our present situation. He then informed us in turn, that he had been cast away, some six years before, in a French barque engaged in the tortoise-shell traffic, upon an uninhabited island, about forty miles from the one where he and those with him, now lived. After remaining there for more than a year, he and his companions, having reason to believe that they were in the neighbourhood of a group occasionally visited by trading vessels, had set out in search of it, in a small boat. Their belief as to the existence and situation of these islands proved to be well founded; they had finally succeeded in reaching them, had been hospitably received and treated by the natives, among whom they had acquired considerable influence, but had as yet had no opportunity of returning home. They were now, he said, on their return from a trading voyage to a neighbouring island, where they had just disposed of a cargo of mats and tappa, in exchange for baskets of native manufacture, and sharks' teeth. Having been becalmed all the preceding day and night, they feared that they had drifted out of their course, since, otherwise, they ought, after making full allowance for the calm, to have already reached their own island. He finished by assuring us, that we might calculate with confidence, upon enjoying perfect security and kind treatment among these people. The conference being concluded, he directed us to put up our sail, and steer after the canoe; adding that he expected to reach the group before midnight if the wind held fair. He spoke with the air of one delivering a command, and evidently considered us entirely under his control. But of course we felt no disposition to object to what he directed. The fact, that the natives had treated him and his companions so well, was an encouragement to us, as affording some proof of their friendly and peaceful character, and we supposed that he could have no possible motive for using his influence to our prejudice. Even had there been any other course for us to choose, to escape perishing, we were in no condition to make any effectual opposition to the will of our new acquaintances. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Note. This fish story has several rather astonishing features--at least to an inexperienced landsman. The sword-fish and thresher are said to seek and attack the right whale together; but a nautical friend, whom I have consulted on the subject, says he has never heard of their interfering with the cachelot, or sperm-whale, which would, he thinks, be very likely to make mince-meat of them both, should they be guilty of such temerity: the right whale uses no other weapon than his powerful tail; whereas the cachelot goes at an adversary with open jaws. Upon my inquiry whether threshers, "of several tons weight," and jumping "twenty feet into the air," were common, my friend the captain, seemed piqued at my implied scepticism as to marine monsters, and briefly made answer, that there were more strange creatures in the sea, than were dreamed of in my philosophy, and that "many an old sailor could give more real information on the subject, than all the natural history books in the world." CHAPTER ELEVEN. A CATASTROPHE. THE WHIRLING COLUMNS--A STUPENDOUS SPECTACLE--WE LOSE OUR NEW FRIENDS. "Still round and round the fluid vortex flies, Scattering dun night, and horror through the skies, The swift volution and the enormous train Let sages versed in Nature's lore explain; The horrid apparition still draws nigh, And white with foam the whirling surges fly." The breeze was now steady, though gentle, and Max and Morton set to work rigging the sail, which for the last two days had served as an awning. During our mutual inquiries and explanations, the Frenchman had kept the canoe close alongside of us; he now braced round the yard of his triangular sail, which had been shaking in the wind, and began to draw ahead. The young native who had interfered so effectually in Max's behalf, observing the eagerness with which we had devoured the doughy mass of pounded bread-fruit, tossed another cake of the same substance into the boat as we separated, which, when distributed, afforded a morsel or two to each of us. I had particularly observed this boy on the first approach of the canoe, from the circumstance of his occupying a small raised platform, or dais, of wicker-work, covered with mats. As our sail had been entirely disengaged from the mast and gaff, it was quite a piece of work to rig it again for service, and by the time this was effected, the canoe was some distance ahead of us: though she was far better adapted than the yawl for sailing with a light breeze, yet we nearly held our own with her, after once getting fairly under way. When the wind first sprang up, the sky had become slightly overcast with broken masses of clouds, of a peculiar and unusual appearance. From the most considerable of these masses, radiated, as from a centre, long lines, like pencils of light, running in straight, regularly diverging rays, to the ocean. We had been sailing in the wake of the canoe, perhaps half an hour, when I observed in the south-west a singularly shaped cloud, to which a dark column, extending downward to the sea, appeared to be attached. This column was quite narrow at the base, but enlarged as it rose, until just below the point of union with the cloud, it spread outward like a gothic pillar, diverging into arches as it meets the roof. I surveyed this strange spectacle for several minutes before its true character occurred to me. It was already observed by those in the canoe, and from their exclamations and gestures, they evidently viewed it with apprehension and dread. It was moving slowly towards us, and we also watched, with feelings in which alarm began to predominate over curiosity and interest, the majestic approach of this vast body of water, (as we now perceived it to be), held by some secret power suspended between heaven and earth. "It appears to be moving north before the wind," said Arthur, at length; "if it keeps on its present course, it will pass by, at a safe distance on our left." This seemed probable; but we felt disposed to give it a still wider berth, and shifting the sail, we steered in a north-easterly direction. Scarcely had our sail filled on the new tack, when a cry of terror again drew attention to the canoe, and the natives were seen pointing to another water-spout, moving slowly round from the east to the north, and threatening to intercept us in the course we were pursuing. This, unlike the first, was a cylindrical column of water, of about the same diameter throughout its entire length, extending in a straight and unbroken line from the ocean to the heavens. Its upper extremity was lost amid a mass of clouds, in which I fancied I could perceive the effects of the gradual diffusion of the water drawn from the sea, as it wound its way upward with a rapid spiral motion, and poured into that elevated reservoir. As the process went on, the cloud grew darker, and seemed to stoop with its accumulating weight of waters. Our position was fast becoming embarrassing and dangerous. We had changed our course to avoid the first water-spout and now we were confronted by another still nearer at hand. For a moment all was confusion, indecision, and dismay. "Quick! round with her head, and let her go right before the wind!" shouted Max hurriedly. "That would be running directly into the danger," cried Morton, "they are both moving north, and approaching each other." "Then let's pull down the sail, until they are at a safe distance." "I would rather keep her under headway," said Arthur, "or how could we escape, if one of them should move down upon us!" "What can we do, then?" exclaimed Max; "we can't sail in the teeth of the wind." "I am for going about to the left again, and steering as near the wind as possible," said Arthur; "the one on that side is farthest north." This was the course which the natives had already adopted, and they were now steering nearly south-west. We immediately followed their example, and the fore and aft rig of the yawl enabled us to sail nearer the wind than they could do. In a few moments the funnel-shaped water-spout, which we had first seen, had passed off northward, and was at such a distance as to remove all apprehensions on account of it. Not so, however, with the second; for hardly had we tacked again, when, notwithstanding that we were to windward of it, it began to move rapidly towards us. Its course was not direct and uniform, but it veered now to the right and now to the left, rendering it difficult for us to decide which way to steer in order to avoid it. Arthur sat at the helm, pale, but quite calm and collected, his eyes steadfastly fixed on the advancing column, while Johnny crouched at his side, holding fast one of his hands in both his own. Morton held the sheet and stood ready to shift the sail, as the emergency might require. Onward it came, towering to the skies, and darkening the ocean with its impending bulk; soon we could perceive the powerful agitation of the water far around its base, and within the vortex of its influence: a dense cloud of spray, thrown off in its rapid revolutions, enveloped its lower extremity: the rushing sound of the water as it was drawn upward, was also distinctly audible. And now it seemed to take a straight course for the canoe. The natives, with the exception of the boy, threw themselves down in the bottom of the boat in abject terror; it was, indeed, an appalling spectacle, and calculated to shake the stoutest heart, to see that vast mass of water, enough as it seemed, to swamp the navies of the world, suspended so strangely over them. The Frenchman appeared to be endeavouring to get the natives to make some exertion, but in vain. He and the boy then seized a couple of paddles, and made a frantic effort to escape the threatened danger; but the whirling pillar was almost upon them, and it seemed as though they were devoted to certain destruction. The Frenchman now threw down his paddle, and sat with his hands folded on his breast, awaiting his fate. The boy, after speaking earnestly to his companion, who merely shook his head, stood up in the prow of the canoe, and casting one shuddering look at the dark column, he joined his hands above his head, and plunged into the sea. In a moment he came to the surface, and struck out vigorously towards us. The canoe seemed already within the influence of the water-spout, and was drawn towards it with the violently agitated waters around its base. The Frenchman, unable longer to endure the awful sight bowed his head upon his hands; another moment, and he was lost to sight in the circle of mist and spray that enveloped the foot of the column; then a strong oscillation began to be visible in the body of the water-spout; it swayed heavily to and fro; the cloud at its apex seemed to stoop, and the whole mass broke and fell, with a noise that might have been heard for miles. The sea, far around, was crushed into smoothness by the shock; immediately where the vast pillar had stood, it boiled like a caldron; then a succession of waves, white with foam, came circling outward from the spot, extending even to us. The native boy, who swam faster than we sailed, was already within forty or fifty yards of us, and we put about and steered for him: in a moment he was alongside, and Arthur, reaching out his hand, helped him into the boat. The sea had now resumed its usual appearance, and every trace of the water-spout was gone, so that it was impossible to fix the spot where it had broken. Not a vestige of the canoe, or of her ill-fated company, was anywhere to be seen. We sailed backward and forward in the neighbourhood of the place, carefully scrutinising the surface in every direction, and traversing several times the spot, as nearly as we could determine it, where the canoe had last been seen: but our search was fruitless: the long billows swelled and subsided with their wonted regularity, and their rippled summits glittered as brightly in the sunshine as ever, but they revealed no trace of those whom they had so suddenly and remorselessly engulfed. The water-spout which had first been seen, had disappeared, and a few heavy clouds in the zenith alone remained, as evidences of the terrific phenomenon which we had just witnessed. CHAPTER TWELVE. OUR ISLAND HOME. THE ILLUSION OF THE GOLDEN HAZE--THE WALL OF BREAKERS--A STRUGGLE FOR LIFE--THE ISLET OF PALMS. "Keel never ploughed that lonely sea, That isle no human eye hath viewed; Around it still in tumult rude, The surges everlastingly, Burst on the coral-girded shore With mighty bound and ceaseless roar; A fresh unsullied work of God, By human footstep yet untrod." The native lad now seemed to be quite overwhelmed with grief. He had made no manifestations of it while we were endeavouring to discover some trace of his companions, but when at length we relinquished the attempt, and it became certain that they had all perished, he uttered a low, wailing cry, full of distress and anguish, and laying his head upon his hands, sobbed bitterly. The Frenchman had told us that the island lay to the northward; and we now put the head of the boat in that direction, steering by the sun, which was just setting. When the first violence of the boy's grief had somewhat abated, Arthur spoke to him gently, in the dialect of the Society Islands. He listened attentively, turning his large eyes upon Arthur's face with an expression of mingled timidity and interest and replied in a low, musical voice. They seemed to understand one another, and talked together for some time. The language spoken by the boy, differed so little, as Arthur told us, from that of the Tahitians, that he easily gathered the meaning of what he said. Upon being questioned as to the distance of the island, and the course which we must steer in order to reach it, he pointed to a bright star, just beginning to be visible in the north-east. It is customary with the South-sea Islanders, before setting out on their long voyages, in which it is necessary to venture out of sight of land, to select some star by which to regulate their course in the night-time; this they call the "aveia," or guiding star of the voyage. They are thus enabled to sail from island to island, and from group to group, between which all intercourse would otherwise be impossible without a compass. The star now pointed out to us, had been fixed upon by the companions of the little islander, at the commencement of their ill-fated voyage, as marking the direction of the home which they were destined never to regain. Among other things, we learned from the boy, that his native island, which we were now endeavouring to reach, was the largest of a group of three, over all of which his father's authority, as chief or king, extended: that there were six whites living among them, who had arrived there many years before, with the one who had just perished, and had come from an uninhabited island to the southward, upon which they had been wrecked. During the night the wind continued fair, and animated by the hopes to which the statements of the little native had given rise, we renewed our watch, which had lately been discontinued, and sailed steadily northward, cherishing a strong confidence that we should reach land before morning. The second watch--from a little after midnight to dawn--fell to me. As it began to grow light I almost feared to look northward, dreading the shock of a fresh disappointment, that must consign us again to the benumbing apathy from which we had yesterday rallied. There seemed to me to be something unusual in the atmosphere, that impeded, or rather confused and bewildered the sight; and when the sun rose, I had not made out anything like land. It was not mist or fog, for the air was dry, and there were already indications of a fiercely hot day, though it was yet fresh and cool. The sky above us, too, was perfectly clear, all the clouds seemed to have slid down to the horizon, along which a white army of them was marshalled, in rounded fleecy masses, like Alpine peaks towering one above another, or shining icebergs, pale and cold as those that drift in Arctic seas. One by one my companions awoke to learn the failure, thus far, of all the sanguine expectations of the preceding evening. The native boy could suggest no reason why we had not reached the island, and when questioned on the subject, and told that we had steered all through the night by the "aveia," he merely shook his head with a bewildered and hopeless look. Max, on perceiving that we were still out of sight of land, threw himself down again in the bottom of the boat without speaking a word, where he remained with his eyes closed as if sleeping. Arthur, after some further conversation with the little islander, came to the conclusion that in steering due north, we had not made sufficient allowance for the strong current setting westward; and he proposed that we should now sail directly east, to which no objection was made, most of us having at last come to feel that it could matter little what course we thenceforth steered. He accordingly took the direction of things into his own hands: the wind, which had moderated, was still from the west, and he put the boat before it, and lashed the helm. The peculiar appearance of the atmosphere still continued. During the morning a number of tropic birds flew by us, the first that we had seen since our separation from the ship. About noon, two noddies alighted on the gaff, and the little native climbed the mast after them; but though they are generally so tame, or so stupid, as to permit themselves to be approached and taken with the hand, these flew away before he could seize them. We hailed the appearance of these birds as a favourable omen, neither species being often seen at any considerable distance from land. It was, I suppose, about an hour after this, that happening to look back, I saw what appeared to be a high island, covered with tall groves of palms, some two miles distant. The elevated shores, and the green tops of the trees, were plainly visible; but just at the point where land and water met, there was a kind of hazy indistinctness in the view. We were sailing directly from it, and I could not understand how we had passed as near as we must have done, without observing it. Browne, catching sight of it almost at the same time with myself, uttered an exclamation that quickly aroused the attention of the rest, and we all stood for a moment gazing, half incredulously, upon the land which seemed to have started up so suddenly out of the sea, in the very track which we had just passed over. Arthur alone, appeared to be but little moved; he looked long and intently, without uttering a word. "This is singular--very singular!" said Morton. "It seems as though we must have sailed over the _very_ spot where it lies." "Unless I am mistaken," said Arthur, "we have been going backward for some time past: we must be in a very powerful current, which is carrying us in a direction contrary to that in which we are heading: the wind is so light that this is not impossible." "I believe you are right," said Morton, "I can account for it in no other way." "We had better then pull down the sail, and take the benefit of the full force of the current," resumed Arthur: this was accordingly done, and the mast unstepped. A short time passed, during which we appeared to be steadily drawing nearer to the land. The shore itself where it emerged from the ocean, we could not see with perfect distinctness: a fine, golden haze, like a visible atmosphere, waved and quivered before it, half veiling it from sight, and imparting to it an uncertain, though bright and dazzling aspect: but this appearance was confined to the lower part of the land; the bold shores and high groves were clearly defined. "I trust we are not the subjects of some fearful illusion," said Browne, breaking a long silence, during which all eyes had been rivetted upon the island; "but there is something very strange about all this--it has an unearthly look." As he spoke, the bright haze which floated over the sea near the surface, began to extend itself upward, and to grow denser and more impervious to the sight: the wooded shores became indistinct and dim, and seemed gradually receding in the distance, until the whole island, with its bold heights and waving groves, dissolved and melted away like a beautiful vision. "What is this?" exclaimed Browne, in a voice of horror. "I should think, if I believed such things permitted, that evil spirits had power here on the lonely sea, and were sporting with our misery." "It is a mirage," said Arthur quietly, "as I suspected from the first. But courage! though what we have seen was an optical illusion, there must be a real island in the distance beyond, of which this was the elevated and refracted image. It cannot, I think, be more than thirty or forty miles off, and the current is sweeping us steadily towards it." "I suppose then," said Morton, "that we can do nothing better, than to trust ourselves entirely to this current which must in fact be a pretty powerful one--at least as rapid as the Gulf Stream." "We can do nothing better until the wind changes," replied Arthur, cheerfully; "at present I am disposed to think we are doing very well, and fast approaching land." But there was no change of the wind, and we continued hour after hour, apparently making no progress, but in reality, as we believed, drifting steadily westward. All through the day we maintained a vigilant watch, lest by any possibility we should miss sight of the island which Arthur was so confident we were approaching. Late in the afternoon we saw a flock of gannets, and some sooty tern; the gannets passing so near that we could hear the motion of their long twisted wings. Later still, a number of small reef-birds passed over head; all were flying westward. This confirmed Arthur in his belief of the proximity of land. "See," said he, "these little reef-birds are bound in the same direction with the others, and with ourselves; you may depend upon it, that the sea-fowl we have seen, are hastening homeward to their nests, on some not far distant shore." So fully did I share this confidence, that I commenced a calculation as to the time at which we might expect to reach land. Assuming it to have been thirty miles distant at the time when we had seen its spectrum, by means of the refraction, arising from a peculiar state of the atmosphere; and estimating the rate of the current at three miles an hour, I came to the conclusion that we could not even come in sight of it until late at night; and it was therefore without any strong feeling of disappointment, that I saw the day fast drawing to a close, and nothing but sky and ocean yet visible. The sun had already set, but the long tract of crimson and flame-coloured clouds that glowed in the horizon where he had disappeared, still reflected light enough to render it easy to distinguish objects in that quarter, when I was startled by a cry of joyful surprise from the native boy, who, shading his eyes with his hands, was looking intently westward. After a long and earnest gaze, he spoke eagerly to Arthur, who told us that the boy thought he saw his native island. Looking in the same direction, I could make out nothing. Arthur and Browne spoke of a brilliantly white line, narrow, but well-defined against the horizon, as being all that they could see. Morton, who was very keen-sighted, thought that he distinguished some dark object beyond the low white band seen by the others. As the light gradually failed, we lost sight of this appearance. It was some hours before the rising of the moon, which we awaited with anxiety. She was now at her full, and when at length she came up out of the sea, her disc, broad and red like a beamless sun, seemed to rest, dilated to preternatural size, upon the edge of the last wave that swelled against the horizon. As she ascended the sky, she shed over the ocean a flood of silvery light, less glaring, but almost as bright as that of day. The wonderful brilliancy of the moon and stars within the tropics, is one of the first things noted by the voyager. It may be owing to the great clearness and transparency of the atmosphere: but whatever the cause, their light is much more powerful than in higher latitudes, and they seem actually nearer, and of greater magnitude. We now looked eagerly westward again; the snow-white line, of which the others had spoken, was by this time distinctly visible to me also, and beyond it, too plainly relieved against the clear blue of the sky, to admit of doubt or illusion, were the high outlines of a tropical island, clothed with verdure to its summit. Again the little islander shouted joyously, and clasped his hands, while the tears streamed down his olive cheeks. He recognised his native island, the smallest and most easterly of the three, of which his father was the chief. We should soon come in sight of the remaining two, he said, which were lower, and lay to the north and south of it; he explained that the appearance, like a low white line running along the base of the island, was caused by the surf, bursting upon a coral reef about a mile from the shore. Here then, at last, was the land which we had at one time despaired of ever beholding again, and now we were well assured that it was no airy phantasm; yet strange as it may seem, our feelings were not those of unmingled joy. A thousand vague apprehensions and surmises of evil, began to suggest themselves, as we approached this unknown shore, inhabited by savages, and under the dominion of a savage. We doubted not that we might depend upon the good-will, and friendly offices of the little native, but we felt at the same time, that the influence of one so young, might prove insufficient for our protection. We were in some measure acquainted with the savage customs, the dark and cruel rites, that prevailed among the Polynesian races generally, and had often listened with horror, to the recital of what Arthur and his uncle had themselves seen, of their bloody superstitions, and abominable practices. As I looked into the faces of my companions, it was easy to perceive that they were possessed by anxious and gloomy thoughts. Meanwhile, the current continued to sweep us steadily onward toward the shore, the outlines of which became every moment more distinct. Occasionally a cloud drifted athwart the moon, and cast a soft shade upon the sea, obscuring the view for a time; but when it had passed, the land seemed to have drawn perceptibly nearer during the interval. At length, when the night was far advanced, and the island was right before us, at the distance of scarcely a mile, the native lad, who had been gazing wistfully toward it for the last half-hour, uttered a plaintive cry of disappointment. He had looked long and anxiously, for the appearance of the two remaining islands of his father's group, but in vain; and now he yielded reluctantly to the conviction, that he had been deceived by the white line of surf, similar to that which bounded on one side his native island, and that he had never before seen the one which we were approaching. This discovery was a relief to me, and removed a weight of apprehension from my mind. The thought of being cast upon a desert and uninhabited shore, seemed less dreadful, than that of falling into the power of a tribe of savage islanders, even under circumstances which would probably secure us a friendly reception. But now a strange and unforeseen difficulty presented itself. Between us and the island, stretched a barrier reef, running north and south, and curving westward; and appearing, as far as we could see, completely to surround it. Along the whole line of this reef the sea was breaking with such violence as to render all approach dangerous; neither could we espy any break or opening in it, through which to reach the shore. Towards this foaming barrier the current was rapidly bearing us, and we were too feeble to struggle long against its force. To permit ourselves to be carried upon the reef would be certain destruction, and our only hope of safety seemed to lie in discovering some inlet through it. Our true situation flashed upon me all at once; I had not before thought of the impossibility of receding. Glancing at Arthur, I caught his eye, and saw that he comprehended the full extent of the danger. "We are near enough to see any break in the reef," said he, "let us now take to the oars, and coast along it in search of one." This was accordingly done. But it was not until we had pulled along the shore for some time, and found that in spite of our endeavours to preserve our distance from it, we were steadily forced nearer, that the rest seemed aware of the imminence of the danger. "The current is carrying us among the breakers," exclaimed Morton, at length, "though we are heading rather away from the shore, we are getting closer every moment." This appalling fact was now apparent to all. "The wind seems to have died away," said Browne, "at any rate there is not enough of it to help us: we must put about and pull out of the reach of this surf, or we are lost." "How long do you suppose we can continue that?" said Arthur. "No, our only hope is in finding an entrance through the reef, and that speedily." We now steered a little farther away, and strained at the oars, as those who struggle for life. Occasionally, when lifted on the crest of a wave, we caught a transient glimpse of a smooth expanse of water beyond the foaming line of surf, and extending from the inner edge of the reef, to the shore of the island. The tall tops of the palms bordering the beach, seemed scarcely a stone's throw distant and you could fancy that, but for the roar of the breakers, you might hear the rustling of their long, drooping leaves; but it only added to the horror of our situation, to see that safe and peaceful haven, so near, yet so inaccessible. In some places the reef rose quite out of the water; in others, it was, in nautical phrase, "all awash;" but nowhere could we attempt a landing with safety. All the while, too, it was evident that in spite of our desperate exertions, we were being driven nearer and nearer the breakers. This kind of work had continued almost an hour, when our strength began to fail. "There appears to be no use in this, comrades," said Browne, at last; "had we not better just let her go upon the reef, and take our chance of being able to get to the shore?" "O, no!" exclaimed Arthur, earnestly, "that is too desperate." "We shall be so completely exhausted that we shan't be able to make an effort for our lives, when at last we are carried into the surf," answered Browne, "and we must come to that sooner or later." "I hope not--there is reason to hope not," rejoined Arthur, "but if so, we may as well be exhausted, as fresh; no strength will be of any avail; we shall be crushed and mangled upon the rocks; or if by any possibility some of us should reach the shore, what is to become of our poor, sick Johnny?" "I will look after him," said Browne, "I will pledge myself that he shan't be lost, unless I am too." "Let us hold out a few moments yet," implored Arthur; "I will take your oar; you are the only one who has not been relieved." "No," said Browne, "you had better keep the helm; I can stand it a while longer, and I will pull until we are swept upon the reef; if you all think that the best plan." It was barely possible that if we should now act as Browne proposed, we might be carried clear off the reef into the lagoon beyond, for we were opposite a sunken patch, upon which there was more water than at other places. Failing of this, the boat would inevitably be dashed to pieces; but still, if not bruised and disabled among the rocks, or carried back by the return waves, we might be able to reach the smooth water inside the reef, when it would be easy to swim ashore. But to most of us, the attempt seemed too desperate to be thought of, except as a last resort; and we preferred to toil at the oars as long as our strength should last in the hope of discovering an inlet. Arthur, on whose skill and judgment we all relied, steered still farther out, and for a while we seemed to make head against the swell and the current. For full half an hour longer, we kept up this severe struggle, that admitted not of an instant's pause or respite. But then our progress became almost imperceptible, and every stroke was made more feebly and laboriously than the last. I could hardly hold the oar in my stiffened fingers. Still no break was to be seen in the long line of surf which seemed to hem in the island, extending like a white wall, of uniform height, far as the eye could reach, on either hand. I had read of islands, like that of Eimeo, completely encircled by coral reefs, with but a single gateway by which they were accessible. What if this were such an one, and the only entrance, miles from the spot where we were toiling for our lives! The conviction that we must risk the chance of success in an attempt to land upon some ledge of the reef, was forcing itself upon all our minds, when Max, trembling with eagerness, pointed to what appeared to be an opening through the surf, nearly opposite us; there was a narrow space where the long waves, as they rolled towards the shore, did not seem to encounter the obstacle over which they broke with such violence on both sides of it, and the swell of the ocean met the placid waters of the lagoon, without any intervening barrier. Through this gap, the shore of the island could be seen, down to the water's edge. Arthur hastily made a bundle of the mast and gaff, and placing it within Johnny's reach, told him to cling to it, in case of accident. Then, calling upon us to pull steadily, he steered directly for the inlet. As we neared it the noise of the surf became almost deafening: the huge rollers, as they thundered against the perpendicular wall of coral, rising abruptly from the depths of the sea, sent up a column of foam and spray, twelve or fifteen feet into the air. When just within the entrance, the spectacle was grand and appalling. But the danger, real or apparent, was soon over: with a firm hand, and steady eye, Arthur guided the boat along the centre of the narrow pass, and in a moment we had glided from the scene of fierce commotion without the reef, into one of perfect tranquillity and repose. A dozen strokes seemed to have placed us in a new world. Involuntarily we rested on our oars, and gazed around us in silence. From the inner edge of the reef, to the broad white beach of the island, a space of perhaps half a mile, spread the clear expanse of the lagoon, smooth and unruffled as the surface of an inland lake. Half-way between the reef and the shore, were two fairy islets, the one scarcely a foot above the water, and covered with a green mantle of low shrubs; the other, larger and higher, and adorned by a group of graceful young cocoa-nuts. The island itself was higher, and bolder in its outlines than is usual with those of coral formation, which are generally very low, and without any diversity of surface. Dense groves clothed that portion of it opposite to us, nearly to the beach, giving it at that hour, a somewhat gloomy and forbidding aspect. As we surveyed this lovely, but silent and desolate landscape, the doubts and apprehensions which we had before experienced began once more to suggest themselves; but they were dissipated by the cheerful voice of Arthur, calling upon us to pull for the shore. He steered for the larger of the two islets, and when, as the boat grated upon the coral tops beside it, we threw down the oars, the strength which had hitherto sustained us, seemed suddenly to fail, and we could scarcely crawl ashore. The last scene of effort and danger, had taxed our powers to the uttermost, and now they gave way. I was so feeble, that I could hardly avoid sinking helplessly upon the sand. With one impulse we kneeled down and returned thanks to Him Who had preserved us through all the strange vicissitudes of the last few days. We next began to look round in search of such means of refreshment as the spot might afford. The cocoa-palms upon the islet, though far from having attained their full growth, (few of them exceeding twelve feet in height), bore abundantly, and we easily procured as much of the fruit as we needed. Tearing off the outer husk, and punching a hole through the shell, which in the young nut is so soft that this can be done with the finger, we drank off the refreshing liquor with which it is filled; then breaking it open, the half-formed, jelly-like kernel, furnished a species of food most nutritious and agreeable, and probably the best adapted to our half-famished condition. Hunger and thirst being appeased, our next care was to make some arrangement for passing the night more comfortably than could be done in the boat. Selecting a clear space in the centre of the group of young cocoa-nuts, we proceeded to make a rude tent, by fixing two of the oars upright in the ground,--tying the mast across their tops and throwing the sail over it, the ends being then fastened to the ground at a convenient distance on each side. Finding that the bare ground would make a rather hard couch, though far less so than we had lately been accustomed to, Morton proposed that we should bring a load of leaves from the neighbouring shore to spread upon it. He and I accordingly rowed over to the mainland, and collected in the grove near the beech, a boatload of the clean dry foliage of the pandanus and hibiscus, which made excellent elastic beds. Johnny watched our departure as though he considered this an exceedingly rash and adventurous enterprise, and he seemed greatly relieved at our safe return. It was now past midnight, and after hauling the boat well up on the shore, we laid down side by side and were very soon asleep. CHAPTER THIRTEEN. THE EXPLORING EXPEDITION. EIULO--PEARL-SHELL BEACH--A WARLIKE COLONY--AN INVASION REPELLED. "They linger there while weeks and months go by, And hold their hope, tho' weeks and months are past; And still at morning round the farthest sky, And still at eve, their eager glance is cast, If there they may behold the far-off mast Arise, for which they have not ceased to pray." For a number of days we remained upon the islet where we had first landed, seldom visiting even the adjacent shore. During this time we subsisted upon cocoa-nuts and a small species of shell-fish, resembling mussels, which we obtained in abundance from the ledges of the neighbouring reef, and which the little native told us, were used as a common article of food among his own people. We had reason to feel grateful that, while we were as feeble and incapable of exertion as we found ourselves for some days, food could be so readily procured. It was also fortunate that during this period the weather continued remarkably fine and mild, with no perceptible variations of temperature; for I have little doubt that in the reduced and exhausted condition in which we then were, and being without any effectual shelter, two or three days of bad weather would have cost some of us our lives. The nights were dry and mild, and no dew seemed to fall upon the islet: thanks to this genial weather, and to abundance of nourishing food, we began rapidly to recover strength. Some time passed before we thought of making any attempt to penetrate or explore the island. We were, naturally, very reluctant to admit even to ourselves, the probability that our stay upon it was to be of any long duration; and we did not therefore feel as much interest in its character and resources as we should otherwise have done. All our thoughts and hopes ran in one channel. We looked for the coming of a ship to rescue us from our dreary position; and every morning and evening, at least, and generally many times a day, some one of us climbed into the tuft of an inclining palm, to take a careful survey of that portion of the ocean, which could be seen from our side of the island. The thought of acting in any respect as though the lonely spot where we now found ourselves was destined to be our permanent abode, was in fact too painful and repugnant to our feelings to be willingly entertained; we were content therefore, to provide for our daily wants as they arose, without anticipating or preparing for the future. A few days passed in this unvaried and monotonous routine, seemed in reality a long period; recent occurrences began to assume the vagueness of things that had happened years ago. I remember particularly, that, in looking back at the dreadful scenes of the mutiny, and our subsequent sufferings at sea, the whole seemed unreal, and more like a horrible dream, than an actual part of our past experience. We soon found that this inert and aimless mode of living--this state of passive expectation, while awaiting the occurrence of an event which we could do nothing to procure or hasten, was a most miserable one: though our physical strength was in a great measure recruited, there was no increase of cheerfulness. Except when engaged in procuring food, or making our daily surveys of the ocean, (which was all our occupation), we were dispirited and listless. Arthur perceived the evil of this state of things, and set himself to devising a remedy. We had been at the island about two weeks, when he proposed, one morning, that we should go over to the mainland and commence a search for water, making an excursion a little way into the interior, if it should prove necessary. Max objected to this, saying that we had no need of water, since we could, without doubt, obtain cocoa-nut milk as long as we should be obliged to remain upon the island, and that by going into the interior, out of sight of the ocean, we might lose an opportunity of being rescued. To this, Arthur replied, that the exclusive use of cocoa-nut milk was considered very unwholesome, and was supposed to be the cause of certain dropsical complaints, common among the natives of many of the Pacific islands; that beside; it was by no means certain that a supply of it could be obtained throughout the year. He finally suggested the possibility that our stay on the island might be longer than we anticipated, in which case its resources, and the means of subsistence which it afforded, would be matters of great interest to us. In regard to the danger which Max seemed chiefly to fear, he said that we should seldom altogether lose sight of the ocean, but might, on the contrary, obtain a wider view of it from other parts of the island. I warmly seconded Arthur's proposal, for I perceived the probable beneficial effects of effort, or occupation, of almost any kind. Morton also was decidedly in favour of it; and Johnny, who had recovered strength and spirits wonderfully within the last few days, was quite enthusiastic for the excursion. He calculated confidently upon our discovering a creek of fresh water, full of fishes and lobsters, and cited the history of the Swiss family Robinson, in support of the reasonableness of these expectations; declaring that for us part, he could not see why we might not count upon equal good fortune with them. Browne seemed indifferent about the matter. The little native, (whose name, upon Arthur's authority, I shall write "Eiulo," though "Iooloo," comes nearer to the sound, as he himself pronounced it), shared in Johnny's delight in prospect of the expedition; indeed, the two had already become the best friends in the world, notwithstanding the difficulty of communicating with one another, and seemed to harmonise in every thing. The excursion was accordingly determined upon, and this being so, there was nothing to prevent our setting out at once. Morton proposed that, instead of undertaking to penetrate into the interior, we should keep along the shore to the northward, as by that means some idea might be gained of the extent of the island; and since any considerable spring or stream must find its way to the sea, we should also be more likely to discover water, than by pursuing the other course. Along the southern shore, the land was lower and less uneven than in the opposite direction, and held forth a slighter prospect of springs or streams. The difficulty of holding a straight course through the forest, where we should be without any means of ascertaining the points of the compass, was a consideration of great weight, and Morton's plan was at last adopted, as being upon the whole the best. The sun was not more than half an hour high, when we pushed off from the shore of the islet, and rowed over towards the mainland. The morning was fine and clear, and either the fresh, bracing sea-air, or the stir and excitement of setting out upon our expedition, had an exhilarating influence, for we gradually became quite cheerful, and even animated; and the faces of my companions began to brighten up with more of the old familiar expression, than I had seen there for many a day. The merest breath of a breeze just stirred the crisp leaves of the palms upon the neighbouring shore; the tiny wavelets rippled softly upon the snowy, shell-spangled beach, or, out in the lagoon, danced and sparkled in the sunlight; still further out and just beyond the barrier that fenced in this quiet and secluded scene from the open ocean, we could see the huge blue rollers with their foaming crests surging high into the air; and the heavy booming of the surf, as it thundered upon the reef, might be heard for miles around, amid the prevailing silence. Beyond this again, stretched away to the horizon, the blue, swelling arch of the ocean--a clear, deep, intense blue, contrasting beautifully with the paler blue of the sky, against which it was relieved, and with the emerald expanse of the lagoon. Browne gazed about him with more interest than I had yet seen him manifest in any thing since we had reached the island. He inhaled the fresh morning air with the appearance of actual relish and enjoyment and at last, to my surprise, (for Max had accused him, not without some reason, of having been the most lugubrious of our party), he began to sing to a brisk and cheerful tune-- "O, happy days of hope and rest Shall dawn on sorrow's dreary night, Though grief may be an evening guest, Yet joy shall come with morning light! The light of smiles shall beam again, From lids that now o'erflow with tears, And weary hours of woe and pain, Are earnests of serener years." "Well," said he, as he finished his song, "this may be a desert island, but I will defy any one to gainsay that the morning is delicious, and the scene a right lovely one." "I am glad you begin to wake up to it," said Morton, "it looks very much as it has at this hour for ten days past." "No, no," protested Browne, "this bright, clear atmosphere makes a very great difference in the appearance of things: we have had no such mornings as this." "I wish you could manage to enjoy it," said Max, "without missing every other stroke, and digging me so unmercifully in the back with your oar-handle; if you can't, I must ask you to change seats with me, and let me take the bow-oar." "How natural and refreshing that sounds!" cried Morton, laughing; "it is a sure token that prospects are brightening, and serious dangers are over, when we find ourselves again in a condition to scold about trifles." "It isn't such a trifle, to be thumped and mauled with the butt of an oar, as I have been all the while Browne was singing, and rhapsodising, and going into ecstasies about the beauty of the morning; which is just such another as we have had ever since we have been here; all the difference being in his feelings, which happen to be a shade or two less doleful than usual, and so cause things to look brighter." "Perhaps you would have me believe," answered Browne, "that the sun will invariably shine when I chance to be in good spirits, and that a thunder-storm would be the natural consequence of my having a fit of the blues?" "I should be sorry if that were the case," replied Max, "as we should then be sure to have a large average of bad weather." "This excursion reminds me of our school-days," said Arthur; "it almost seems as though we were once more starting off together, on one of our Saturday rambles, as we have so often done on fine summer and autumn mornings at home." "I think I shall never forget those forays through the woods," said Morton, "over hill and hollow, in search of nuts, or berries, or wild-grapes, or meadow-plums--the fishing and swimming in summer, the snow-balling, and sledding, and skating, in winter! an innocent and happy set of urchins we were then!" "Really," said Max, laughing, "to hear you one would suppose that we were now a conclave of venerable, grey-haired sages, scarcely able to remember the time when we were children, and so full of wisdom and experience, that we had long ago ceased to be `innocent and happy.'" "Without professing to be so wise or experienced, as to be very unhappy on that account," returned Morton, "I suppose I may say that I am old enough, and sufficiently changed since those days, to feel, as I now look back upon them with a sigh, their peculiar happiness, so unlike any thing that after-life affords." "How singular it is," said Browne, "that you four who were playmates when children, should have happened to keep together so long." "And still find ourselves together on an island in the Pacific Ocean, thousands of miles from home," added Arthur. "After quitting school," continued Browne, "I never met with any of my comrades there. Of all the mates with whom I used on the Saturday half-holydays, to go gathering hips and haws, or angling in the Clyde, I have not since come in contact with one." "It don't seem at all like Saturday to me," said Johnny, who for some minutes past had appeared to have something on his mind, as to the expediency of communicating which he was undecided; "I was afraid that it was Sunday, every thing is so still; but I hope it is not, for Arthur would not think it right to start upon an exploring expedition on Sunday, and so it would be put off." "Truly," said Browne, "that is extremely flattering to the rest of us. Do you think we are all heathens, except Arthur? I, for one, have no notion of becoming a savage, because I am on a desert island; I shall go for maintaining the decencies of Christianity and civilisation." "Does any one know what day it really is?" inquired Morton. Max said he believed it was Monday. Arthur thought it was Wednesday, and added that he had memoranda, from which he had no doubt he could fix the day with certainty. "It was on Friday," said Max, "that the mutiny took place, and that we got to sea in the boat." "Yes," said Arthur, "and it was on Wednesday night, I think, five days afterwards, that we landed here." "Five days!" cried Max. "Do you mean to say that we were but five days at sea before reaching the island?" "I think that is all," replied Arthur, "though the time certainly seems much longer. Then, if my calculations are correct, we have been here just two weeks to-day, so that this is Wednesday. But," continued he, "as our heavenly Father has thus guided our little bark safe through this wilderness of waters, let us celebrate the day of our landing on this `Canaan,' by making it our first Sabbath, and our grateful voices shall every seventh day, from this, be lifted up in praise and thanksgiving for the mercy thus vouchsafed to us." While this conversation was going on, we reached the shore. Johnny scrambled eagerly to the bow, anxious to be the first to land, and he attained this object of his ambition, by jumping into the water nearly up to his waist, before the boat was fairly beached. Then, after gazing around him a moment with exclamations of wonder and admiration, he suddenly commenced running up and down the wide, firm beach, gathering shells, with as much zeal and earnestness, as though he was spending a holiday by the sea-side at home, and could tie up these pretty curiosities in his handkerchief, and run back with them in five minutes to his father's house. There was certainly some ground for Johnny's admiration; just at the spot where we had landed, the shore was thickly strewn, in a manner which I had never before seen equalled, with varieties of the most curious and beautiful shells. They were of all sizes, and of every conceivable shape and colour. The surfaces of some were smooth and highly polished; others were scolloped, or fluted, or marked with wave-like undulations. There were little rice and cowrie shells; mottled tiger shells; spider shells, with their long, sharp spikes; immense conches, rough, and covered with great knobs on the outside, but smooth and rose-lipped within, and of many delicate hues. There were some that resembled gigantic snail shells, and others shaped like the cornucopias, used to hold sugar-plums for children. One species, the most remarkable of all, was composed of a substance, resembling mother-of-pearl, exquisitely beautiful, but very fragile, breaking easily, if you but set foot on one of them: they were changeable in colour, being of a dazzling white, a pearly blue, or a delicate pale green, as viewed in different lights. Scattered here and there, among these deserted tenements of various kinds of shell-fish, were the beautiful exuviae and skeletons of star-fish, and sea-eggs; while in the shallow water, numerous living specimens could be seen moving lazily about. Among these last, I noticed a couple of sea-porcupines, bristling with their long, fine, flexible quills, and an enormous conch crawling along the bottom with his house on his back, the locomotive power being entirely out of sight. Johnny seemed for the moment to have forgotten every thing else, in the contemplation of these treasures; and it was not until Arthur reminded him that there was no one to remove or appropriate them, and that he could get as many as he wanted at any time, that he desisted from his work, and reluctantly consented to postpone making a collection for the present. Having drawn the boat high up on the beach, and armed ourselves with a cutlass apiece, (Johnny taking possession of the longest one of the lot), we commenced our march along the shore, to the right, without further delay. We had by this time scarcely a remaining doubt that the island was uninhabited. No palm-thatched huts occupied the open spaces, or crowned the little eminences that diversified its windward side; no wreaths of smoke could be seen rising above the tops of the groves; no canoes, full of tattooed savages, glided over the still waters within the reef; and no merry troops of bathers pursued their sports in the surf. There was nothing to impart life and animation to the scene, but the varied evolutions of the myriads of sea-fowl, continually swooping, and screaming around us. With this exception, a silence like that of the first Sabbath brooded over the island, which appeared as fresh, and as free from every trace of the presence of man, as if it had newly sprung into existence. With the continued absence of every indication of inhabitants our feeling of security had increased to such an extent, that even Johnny ventured sometimes to straggle behind, or to run on before, and occasionally made a hasty incursion into the borders of the grove, though he took care never to be far out of sight or hearing of the main body. Soon after starting, we doubled a projecting promontory, and lost sight of the boat and the islet. The reef bent round to the north, preserving nearly a uniform distance from the shore, and was without any break or opening. The forest in most places, extended nearly to the beach, and was composed chiefly of hibiscus, pandanus, and cocoa-nut trees, with here and there a large pisonia, close to the lagoon. One gigantic specimen of this last species, which we stopped a moment to admire, could not have been less than twenty feet in girth. Max, Morton, Arthur, and myself, could not quite span it, taking hold of hands, and Johnny had to join the ring, to make it complete. For several hours we continued our journey pretty steadily, encountering no living thing, except tern, gannets, and other sea-birds, and one troop of gaudy little paroquets, glittering in green, and orange, and crimson. These paroquets were the only land-birds we saw during the day. Max pronounced them "frights," because of their large hooked bills, and harsh discordant cries. They certainly gave Johnny, a terrible "fright," and indeed startled us all a little, by suddenly taking wing, with loud, hoarse screams, from a hibiscus, beneath which we were resting, without having observed that they were perched over our heads. When it was near noon, and we had travelled, as we supposed, making allowance for delays and deviations, some six or eight miles, the character of the shore suddenly changed. The white, shelving beach, and the dense groves meeting it near the water, now disappeared, and were succeeded by an open strip of land, bordering the lagoon, strewed with huge, irregular fragments of coral rock, and seamed with gullies. The line of the forest here receded some distance from the shore, leaving a broad rounded point, embracing a large area of low and barren ground, covered thinly with a growth of stunted shrubs, and a few straggling, solitary looking trees. The lagoon was at this point quite shallow, and low rocks and coral patches appeared above the surface, at short distances apart, nearly to the centre of the channel. The reef opposite, was entirely under water, and its position was indicated only by a line of breakers. A large portion of the point, comprising several acres, was covered with the rude nests of various aquatic birds. Many of these nests were occupied even at that hour, and the birds seemed in no wise alarmed, or even disturbed by our approach. When we came very close to any of them, they would survey us with an air half angry, and half inquisitive, stretching out their long necks; and screwing their heads from side to side, so as to obtain a view of us first with one eye, and then with the other; this seeming to be considered indispensable to a complete and satisfactory understanding of our character and intentions. After a thorough scrutiny, they would resume their former appearance of stupid indifference, as though we were creatures altogether too unimportant to merit further notice. They all, without exception, seemed perfectly tame and fearless, and quite ready to resent any infringement upon their rights. Johnny, while inspecting too closely the nest of one of them, curiously constructed of long stiff reeds, resembling rods of steel, suddenly received, as a rebuke for his impertinence, a blow from the wing of the offended owner, which laid him sprawling upon his back. Notwithstanding this severe lesson, the gentle and amiable aspect of a large white bird, so far reassured him, that he ventured to make some friendly advances, whereupon he got so severely pecked, that he at once gave up all further attempts at familiarity with any of them. This harsh treatment, in fact, so disgusted Johnny with the whole race of sea-birds, and so impaired his faith in their innocent and inoffensive looks, that he declared he would never have any thing more to do with them, "since that beautiful white bird had bitten him so savagely, when he only offered to stroke its neck." Some of these birds were very large and strong: in several of the unoccupied nests I saw eggs, as large as those of the duck: they were of different colours some of them prettily speckled or mottled, but most were of an ash colour, or a whitish brown. Eiulo pointed out two kinds, which he said were highly prized for food, and which, as we afterwards found, were, in fact, nearly equal to the eggs of the domestic duck. The heat had by this time become exceedingly uncomfortable, and we concluded to halt until it should abate a little, at the first convenient and pleasant spot. Leaving the shore, which, besides being unsheltered from the sun, was so rugged with crevices and gullies, and great irregular blocks of coral, as to be almost impassable, we entered the borders of the wood, and took a short cut across the point. Johnny, in imitation of the desert islanders of the story-books, desired to give appropriate names to all the interesting or remarkable localities, with which we became acquainted. He had already christened the little island on which we had first landed, "Palm-Islet," and the spot upon the opposite shore, abounding in brilliant shells, had, from that circumstance, received the impromptu name of "Pearl-shell Beach." He now proposed to call the point, "Cape Desolation," from its waste and forbidding aspect; but finally fixed upon "Sea-bird's Point," as being more appropriate, the birds having, in fact, taken possession of nearly its entire area, which, judging from the warlike spirit they had displayed, they were likely to hold against all comers. Having crossed the point and reached the lagoon again, we found that the shore resumed its former character. The forest again extended nearly to the beach, but it was more open, and not so thickly wooded as before, and the trees were of a finer growth, and in much greater variety; many of them being of kinds unknown to any of us. We had not proceeded far, after regaining the beach, when we espied just such a resting-place as we were in search of. CHAPTER FOURTEEN. CASTLE-HILL. THE NOONDAY HALT--A CHARMING RESTING-PLACE--HEATHEN SKILL VERSUS CIVILISATION AND THE STORY-BOOKS. "Beneath the tropic rays, Where not a shadow breaks the boundless blaze, Earth from her lap perennial verdure pours, Ambrosial fruits, and amaranthine flowers." A little way before us rose a smooth and gentle acclivity, crowned by a clump of majestic trees, which promised to afford a deeper and more grateful shade than any other spot in sight, and we accordingly made towards it. On a nearer approach it proved to be more elevated than had at first appeared, and in order to reach the top, we were obliged to scale a long series of natural terraces, almost as regular as though they had been the work of art. From this spot there was a fine view of the shore, the lagoon, and the ocean, to the north and west. The trees that covered the level space at the summit of the ascent, were varieties of a much larger growth than those generally found on the low alluvial strip of land bordering the lagoon. Conspicuous among them, were the majestic candle-nut, with its white leaves and orange-coloured blossoms; the inocarpus, a kind of tropical chestnut; and most magnificent and imposing of all, a stately tree, resembling the magnolia in its foliage and manner of growth, and thickly covered with large white flowers, edged with a delicate pink. The ground was level as a parlour floor, and free from brushwood or undergrowth of any kind, except a few long-leaved, fragrant ferns, and in places a thick carpet of flowering vines and creepers. The trees were stationed at such distances apart, as to compose a fine open grove, and yet close enough to unite in one rich mass of foliage overhead, impenetrable to the rays of the sun, and creating a sombre and almost gloomy shade, even during the fiercest glare of noonday. In one spot, a number of gigantic trees were grouped nearly in a circle. Their dense tops formed a leafy dome, through which not the smallest patch of sky was visible. Around their huge, but shapely, stems, which one might look upon as forming the pillars of a natural temple, a number of flowering parasites twined in luxuriant wreaths, and hung in festoons from the tower branches. A considerable space around the boles of some of these trees was completely covered by an elegant species of creeping plant with fine cut foliage of a delicate pea-green, and large clusters of scarlet blossoms, about which, swarms of brilliantly-coloured insects, of the butterfly tribe, were hovering. "Here we may actually, and not figuratively, indulge in the luxury of `reposing on the beds of flowers,'" said Max, throwing himself down at the foot of a towering candle-nut, amid a soft mass of this vegetable carpeting. All were sufficiently tired by the long march of the morning, to appreciate the luxury, and our entire company was soon stretched upon the ground, in attitudes in which comfort rather than grace, was consulted. "What do you think of this, Johnny?" said Max, "it strikes me, as being quite romantic and like the story-books--almost up to the Arabian Nights. If the history of our adventures should ever be written, (and why shouldn't it be?) here's material for a _flowery_ passage. Just see how this would sound, for instance:--`And now our little band of toil-worn castaways,' (that's us), `weary and faint with their wanderings through the desert, (that's Cape Desolation, or Sea-bird's Point, or whatever Johnny in his wisdom shall conclude to call it), arrived at a little oasis, (this is it), a green spot in the wilderness, blooming like the bowers of Paradise, where stretched at ease, upon beds of bright and odoriferous flowers, they reposed from the fatigues of their journey.' There, that sentence, I flatter myself is equal in harmony and effect, to the opening one in the history of Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia--there's my idea of the style in which our adventures should be recorded." As we had taken no refreshment since setting out in the morning, we now began to feel the need of it. At the edge of the eminence, on the southern side, grew several large cocoa-nut trees, fully three feet in diameter at the base, and rising to the height of seventy or eighty feet at the very least. Eiulo was the only one of our number, who would have dreamed of undertaking to climb either of them; he, however, after finding a young purau, and providing himself with a strip of the bark, fastened the ends about his ankles, and then firmly clasping the trunk of one of the trees with his hands and feet alternately, the latter being as wide apart as the ligature would permit, he vaulted rapidly and easily upward, and soon gained the dizzy height where the nuts grew. Once fairly perched in the tuft of the tree among the stems of the enormous leaves, where he looked scarcely larger than a monkey, he quickly supplied us with as many cocoa-nuts as we could put to present use. Loading ourselves with the fruit, we returned to our first resting-place, and after piling the nuts in a heap, reclined around it, after the manner of the ancients at their banquets, while we enjoyed our repast. Though all these nuts were gathered from the same tree, and, in fact, from the same cluster, some of them contained nothing but liquid, the kernel not having yet begun to form, and in these the milk was most abundant and delicious: in others, a soft, jelly-like, transparent pulp, delicate and well-flavoured, had commenced forming on the inner shell: in others, again, this pulp had become thicker and firmer, and more like the kernel of the imported nut, the milk having diminished in quantity, and lost in a great measure its agreeable taste. Johnny, after having tried all the different varieties with the zeal of an epicure, declared that he was beginning to get sick of cocoa-nuts: he wondered whether we should have to live entirely on cocoa-nuts and shell-fish, and whether there was not some bread-fruit on the island. "If there is," said Browne, "it will be of no use to us, unless we can find means to make a fire, and cook it." "Make a fire!" cried Johnny, "that's easy enough--all we've got to do, is just to get two dry sticks and rub them together briskly for a few minutes. None of the shipwrecked people I ever read of, had any trouble about that." "How lucky we are," cried Max, gravely, "in having some one with us, who has read all about all the desert islanders that have ever lived, and can tell us just what to do in an emergency! Please get a couple of those dry sticks which you speak of, Johnny, and show us how unfortunate castaways in our condition, are accustomed to kindle a fire." Without seeming, in the simplicity of his heart, to suspect for a moment the perfect good faith and sincerity of Max's compliment, Johnny commenced casting about for some sticks or pieces of wood, with which to make the experiment. He soon found a fallen branch of the inocarpus, well baked by the sun, and which had long lost every particle of moisture. Breaking it into two pieces, he began to rub them together with great zeal, and apparently with perfect faith in the result: gradually he increased his exertions, manifesting a commendable perseverance, until the bark began to fly, and the perspiration to stream down his face; but still there was no fire, nor any sign of it. Meantime, Max encouraged him to proceed. "Keep it a-going, Johnny!" he cried, "if you stop for half a second, you lose all your labour; only persevere, and you're sure to succeed; none of the shipwrecked people you ever read of had any trouble about it, you know." But Johnny concluded that the sticks could not be of the right kind, and notwithstanding Max's exhortations, he at last gave up the attempt. Morton, however, not discouraged by this unfortunate result, nor by Max's disposition to make fun of the experiment expressed a belief that the thing could be done, and after preparing the sticks by cutting away one of the rounded sides of each, he went to work with an earnestness and deliberation, that caused us to augur favourably of his success. After nearly ten minutes powerful and incessant friction, the sticks began to smoke, and Johnny, tossing his cap into the air, gave an exulting "Hurrah!" But his rejoicing proved premature, for, though the wood fairly smoked, that was the utmost that could be attained, and Morton was obliged to desist, without having produced a flame. Eiulo had been watching these proceedings with great interest; and he now intimated by signs that he would make a trial. Taking the sticks, he cut one of them to a point, with Arthur's knife, and made a small groove along the flat surface of the other, which he then placed with one end upon the ground, and the other against his breast, the grooved side being upwards. Placing the point of the first stick in the groove, he commenced moving it up and down along the second, pressing them hard together. The motion was at first slow and regular, but increased constantly in rapidity. By-and-bye the wood began to smoke again, and then Eiulo continued the operation with greater vigour than ever. At length a fine dust, which had collected at the lower extremity of the groove, actually took fire; Arthur quickly inserted the edge of a sun-dried cocoa-nut leaf in the tiny flame, and it was instantly in a blaze. "Bravo!" shouted Max, "that's what I consider a decided triumph of heathenism over civilisation, and the story-books." Morton now seized the sticks again, and imitating Eiulo's method of proceeding, succeeded in kindling them, though it took him a considerable time to do it: thus it was satisfactorily established, by actual experiment, that we could obtain a fire whenever we should want one. The question was now raised, whether we should continue our exploration further that day, or remain where we were until the following morning; and as the heat was still very oppressive, and we were sufficiently tired already, the latter course was unanimously determined upon. Johnny liked the spot which we occupied so well, that he proposed "building a hut" upon it, and making it our head-quarters, as long as we should have to stay on the island. It was certainly a pleasant site; and, commanding as it did a wide view of the ocean, vessels could be descried at a greater distance, and signalled with a surer prospect of attracting notice, than from any other locality yet known to us. From the wooded summit, the land descended on every side--towards the shore in a series of terraces--towards the interior in one smooth and continuous slope, after which it again rose in a succession of densely wooded eminences, irregular and picturesque in their outlines, and each higher than the last as you proceeded inland; the farthest of them towering up in strong relief against the south-eastern sky. The various shades of the masses of different kinds of foliage, with which these heights were clothed, from that of the pale-leaved candle-nut, to the sombre green of the bread-fruit groves, contributed greatly to the pleasing effect of the landscape. On the right, as you looked towards the ocean, lay the flat tract, occupied by the sea-fowl, and which Johnny had named after them. At nearly an equal distance on the left, the line of the beach was broken, by what appeared to be a small grove, or clump of trees, detached from the main forest, and planted directly on the line of the shore. As we had concluded to suspend our explorations until the next day, every one was left to his own resources for the remainder of the afternoon. Johnny having set Morton at work, to make him a bow, "to shoot birds with," began to occupy himself in the very important task of finding an appropriate name for the height, which he finally concluded to call "Castle-Hill," from its regular shape and bold steep outlines. Max extended himself on his back in the coolest nook he could find, and spreading his handkerchief over his face, to protect it from the gaudy, but troublesome, winged insects which haunted the spot, forbade any one to disturb him on pain of his high displeasure. Arthur, taking Eiulo with him, proceeded upon a botanising tour about the neighbourhood, in the hope of making some discovery that might prove useful to us. For my own part, happening to think of the question which had been started in the morning, as to the day of the week, I began to make a retrospect of all that had taken place since the fearful night of the mutiny, and to endeavour to fix the order of subsequent events, so as to arrive at the number of days we had been at sea, and upon the island. In the course of these calculations, and while Browne and myself were discussing the matter, he suggested the want of pencil and paper. I found that the last leaf had been torn from my pocket-book, and the rest were in an equally destitute condition. In this strait, I remembered having heard Arthur describe the manner in which the native children had been taught to write in the missionary schools at Eimeo, the only materials used being plantain leaves and a pointed stick. I mentioned this to Browne, and we forthwith proceeded to experiment with different kinds of leaves, until at last we found a large heart-shaped one, which answered our purpose admirably; it was white, and soft as velvet on the under side, and marks made upon it with the rounded point of a small stick, were perfectly distinct, showing of a dark green colour upon a white ground. Late in the afternoon, Arthur and Eiulo returned from their tour of examination, having made, as Arthur intimated, some discoveries, of which, in due time, we should all reap the benefit. Morton having found a tough and elastic kind of wood, had shaped a tolerable bow for Johnny, when it came to providing a string, the resources of both failed. The difficulty being made known to Eiulo, he volunteered to supply what was wanted, and went with Johnny and Morton into the adjoining forest to look for a certain kind of bark, from which to make the required cord. "There!" said Arthur, when we were left alone together; "how capitally this excursion has worked. How differently things seem from what they did yesterday, when we were at the islet, perfectly stagnant and stupid. One would not take us for the same people. Only let us always have something to do, something to interest and busy ourselves about, and we need not be very miserable, even on a desert island." CHAPTER FIFTEEN. CAMPING OUT. A DESPERATE ENGAGEMENT--JOHNNY DISCOVERS AN "OYSTER TREE"--VAGRANTS, OR KINGS?--A SLEEPING PRESCRIPTION. "Travellers ne'er did lie, Though fools at home condemn them: If in Naples, I should report this now, would they believe me?" About sunset we went down to the beach to bathe. The trees along the shore were occupied by immense crowds of exemplary sea-fowl, whose regular and primitive habits of life had sent them to roost at this early hour. Notwithstanding their webbed feet, they managed to perch securely among the branches, many of which were so heavily freighted, that they bent almost to the ground beneath their load. Finding a spot where the beach shelved off gradually into deep water, with a smooth, firm bottom, free from shells and corallines, we had a refreshing swim. Afterwards, strolling along the shore by myself, I found a large fish, beautifully marked with alternate black and yellow bands, in a shallow, fenced off from the lagoon at low water, by a coral ridge. The too eager pursuit of some of the smaller tribe of fishes, had probably beguiled him into this trap, where he had been left by the tide, to fall a victim, as I confidently reckoned, to his own rapacity. All escape into deep water seemed to be pretty effectually cut off and I looked upon him as already the captive of my bow and spear; but fearing lest some of the others should come up to share the glory of securing so splendid a prize, I forthwith set about effecting his actual capture. Rolling my trowsers above my knees, I waded into the water to drive him ashore; but I soon found that my task was not going to prove by any means as easy as I had anticipated. My intended victim was exceedingly vigorous and active, and as ferocious as a pike. He obstinately refused to be driven at all, and struggled and floundered as desperately as if he already had a vivid presentiment of the frying-pan, snapping viciously at my fingers whenever I undertook to lay hold of him. To add to the aggravating features of the case, he seemed to bristle all over with an inordinate and unreasonable quantity of sharp-pointed fins and spines, which must have been designed by nature as weapons of defence, since there were certainly more of them than any fish could use to advantage for swimming purposes. I began to suspect that I had caught a Tartar; but I had now gone too far to back out with credit: my self-respect wouldn't admit of the thought. So, taking a short breathing spell, I again advanced to the attack, somewhat encouraged by perceiving that my scaly antagonist seemed exhausted and distressed by his recent exertions. His mouth was wide open, and his gills quivered; but I was rather uncertain whether to regard this as a hostile demonstration, or a sign of pain and fatigue. However, at it we went; and, after getting my hands badly cut by some of the aforesaid bristling spines and fins, besides being drenched with water, and plastered all over with wet sand, which he splashed about in the struggle, I succeeded in seizing him firmly by the tail, and throwing him high and dry upon the beach. I then scooped out a hollow in the sand, a little above the tide-mark, and filling it with water, pushed him into it, thus securing him for the present. Max, Morton, and Browne, who had been practising climbing cocoa-nut trees, at the edge of the wood, with very indifferent success, had witnessed, from a distance, the latter part of the "engagement," as Max facetiously called it; and they now came up to learn the particulars, and to inquire "whether it was a shark, or a young whale, that I had been having such a terrible time with." While they were admiring my captive, and jocosely condoling with me on the hard usage which I had received, the voice of Johnny, (who, accompanied by Eiulo, had ventured to stroll off in the direction of the point), was heard, raised to its highest pitch, as he shouted for us to "come and see something strange." But it seemed that his impatience would not permit him to await the result of his summons, for the next moment he came running towards us in a state of great excitement, and all out of breath, crying out that he had "found a tree covered with oysters," and he had no doubt, there were "lots more of them." "A tree covered with _what_?" inquired Browne, dubiously. "With oysters--with fine, large oysters!" cried Johnny, "just come and see for yourselves." "Wonderful island! productive soil!" exclaimed Max, in mock admiration. "If oysters will take root, and grow here, I suppose pretty much any thing will: I believe I will plant my boots to-morrow: they may do for seed, and are good for nothing else any longer--don't you begin to think this must be an enchanted island, Johnny?" "O, you may make fun of it, if you please; but it's true: and if you'll come with me, I'll shew you the trees." "Well," said Browne, "I am ready for almost any thing in the way of the marvellous, since having seen a solid and substantial-looking island turn into a vapour, and vanish away before my very eyes. I shall be careful about doubting any thing, until I get back to some Christian country, where things go on regularly. For the present, I am in state of mind to believe in phoenixes and unicorns--and why not in oyster-trees? Who knows but we have happened upon a second Prospero's isle? Lead on, Johnny, and bring us to this wonderful tree." And Johnny started off accordingly, followed by Browne and Morton. In a moment the latter was heard calling out, "I say, Max! do you understand conchology?" "Yes, enough to tell a bivalve when I see one: should like to have a `dozen fried' before me now." "If a `dozen raw' will answer, just step this way, and we'll accommodate you equal to Florence." On hastening to the spot, all scepticism as to the "oysters growing on trees," was speedily removed. A row of mangroves lined the shore for some distance, each elevated upon its white pile of protruding and intertwisted roots. Attached to the branches of these trees, which overhung the water and drooped into it at high tide, were abundance of fair-sized oysters. Looking down into the water beneath the mangroves, I perceived the certain indications of an extensive and well-stocked oyster-bed. The bottom was thickly covered with them, in every stage of growth multitudes being scarcely larger than a sixpence. I could also see, through the shallow water, an immense number of little white specks, like drops of spermaceti, scattered about among them. It was evident, that here was an abundant and unfailing supply of these delicious shell-fish. Browne broke off from one of the trees a large branch, having half a dozen oysters attached to it, with which he hastened to confront the unbelieving Max, and flourishing it in his face, demanded to know if he was "convinced now." Although constrained to admit that they _looked_ very like oysters, Max seemed to consider the evidence of more than one of the senses necessary to afford satisfactory proof of so extraordinary a phenomenon, and accordingly proceeded to see how they tasted. After opening one of the largest, (using his cutlass as an oyster-knife), and making the experiment with due deliberation, he announced himself perfectly satisfied. By the time we had all sufficiently tasted the quality of the oysters, (which were really very good, and well-flavoured, notwithstanding the unusual position in which they were discovered), it had become quite dark. Though the evening was fine, there was not much light, the moon and stars glimmering faintly through a soft purple haze, which, as I had observed since we had been on the island, generally seemed to fill the atmosphere for a short time after sunset, and at a little later hour entirely disappeared. As we strolled back towards the foot of "Castle-Hill," Johnny suddenly looked up, and inquired, as if the thought had just occurred to him, where we were going to sleep. "That's a pretty question to ask," said Browne, laughing, "it implies that we are common vagrants." "So we are, strictly speaking," answered Max, "we have no regular means of living, and no fixed place of abode, and that I believe, makes us common vagrants, according to Webster." "I should think our means of living were `regular' enough to rescue us from the definition," replied Morton, "having been thus far, cocoa-nuts and mussels every day, and all day long, and nothing but cocoa-nuts and mussels. I am glad that there is now some prospect of a little more irregularity in future." "As to our having no fixed habitation or place of abode," said Browne, "that does not arise from poverty, or lack of land--`the isle is all before us where to choose'--and we are now on a tour of observation through our extensive domains, in order to decide upon the finest spot for our head-quarters. Meantime, for a night or two, we shall have to be satisfied with `a tent in the green wood, a home in the grove,' in other words, we shall have to `camp out,' as the most renowned hunters and soldiers have frequently done before us. I'm sure there's no vagrancy in that." "Why," cried Johnny, forgetting for the moment his anxiety on the score of our quarters for the night, "we are no more vagrants than Robinson Crusoe was:-- "`We are monarchs of all we survey, And our realm there is none to dispute,' "As he says of himself so that we are much more like kings than vagrants." "And the sea-birds and fishes," said Max, "are to be considered as our subjects, I presume, since we have no man Friday, and no goats or poll-parrots to reign over." "Yes," said Johnny, "I suppose so; there are enough of them too." "And some very disloyal, rebellious, and stiff-necked ones among them," added Max, "who ought to be dealt with as traitors forthwith--that sturdy feathered rebel for instance, who, not regarding the inviolability of the royal person, no longer ago than this morning laid one of our royal majesties sprawling upon his royal back." "And that other scaly traitor," added Browne, "who perversely refused to come out of the water to be cooked, in accordance with the royal will, and who nearly bit off the sacred thumb of one of our majesties, in resisting the royal authority." "Well, Johnny," said Max, "if we are not actually kings, we at any rate have some royal blood upon the island. Not to speak of myself, who am descended direct from `Kaiser Maximilien,' here is Eiulo, who is a real prince, his father being King of the Cannibal Islands, or some other islands in these seas." "I wish you wouldn't speak so of Eiulo's father," said Johnny, warmly, "he is not a cannibal, and I believe he is a very good man; I think his islands are near here, and if we should one day get there, he would treat us kindly, and let us go home whenever we should have an opportunity." "Hilloa!" cried Max, "what has put all that into your head? What do you know about Eiulo's father, or his islands, or where they are?" This sudden outburst of Johnny's surprised us all, with perhaps the exception of Arthur, and we listened with some interest, as he replied to Max's volley of questions. "Oh, I have talked with Eiulo about it," he answered, "mostly by signs; and he has made me understand that he believes his home is not far distant--off in that direction, (pointing north), and that ships sometimes stop there; and so I have been thinking that if we could only find the way there, we should have some prospect of getting home at last." Upon this we became silent and thoughtful; nothing further was said, until Johnny recurred to the question which he had started a few moments before, and again asked where we proposed to pass the night. "Not in those gloomy woods, I hope," said he, "where it is so lonely, and the wind and the trees make such strange noises. I would rather sleep down here upon the shore; this nice dry, white sand, up where the water never comes, will make a very good bed." Thus far, we had passed every night upon the islet, to which we had now become familiarised and accustomed. Its small extent, and separation from the mainland, gave it an air of security, which made us feel more at our ease there at night, than we could among the sombre and unexplored forests of the larger island, about which we as yet knew so little. Johnny's timidity was not therefore unnatural. Indeed, unless I am mistaken, none of us was, on this first night of our exploration, entirely free from a vague spirit of insecurity, and of liability to some unknown danger. "That will hardly do, Johnny," said Browne, in answer to his suggestion about taking up our quarters for the night upon the shore, "a heap of dry pandanus leaves will make a much more comfortable bed than the hard sand. Thus I propose to arrange it--we will go up to the top of the hill where we rested to-day, and lodge there; our beds of leaves shall be all in a circle, and Johnny's shall be in the middle; and then he won't feel lonesome or afraid, for all the uncanny noises of the wind and the trees; knowing that he has good friends and true all around him, and particularly one stout John Browne, who is worth all the rest together, being a fair match for any thing in this part of the South-Seas!" and by way of raising Johnny's spirits, and inspiring him with the greater confidence in the prowess of his protector, he flourished his cutlass, and went scientifically through the broad-sword exercise, slashing and carving away at his imaginary antagonist, with a fierceness and vigour wonderful to behold, having lopped off an indefinite quantity of airy heads and limbs, be finished, by reciting with a bold and warlike air-- "Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled! Scots wham Bruce has aften led!" etcetera. This demonstration seemed to produce the desired effect and Johnny soon became reassured, and quite reconciled to "camping out" in the woods. The evening was so fine, and the gentle breeze setting in from the ocean was so cool and grateful, after the excessive heat of the day, that we continued for some time loitering along the shore. The sea was highly phosphorescent; that is, during the earlier part of the evening, and before the mist or haze before spoken of cleared up. The tiny wavelets, as they rippled upon the beach in rapid succession, sparkled with phosphoric fire, and out in the lagoon, wherever a coral patch rose to the surface, or the water was disturbed by any floating object, it gave forth a clear and brilliant light, and was studded by myriads of fiery dots and spangles. At length Johnny began to complain of weariness, and we scaled the terraced hill, and gathering a large quantity of clean and well-dried leaves, arranged our beds as Browne had suggested, beneath the group of noble trees where we had taken our siesta at noon. The novelty of our situation, long proved with me an effectual antidote to fatigue and drowsiness, and I lay, looking up at the moon glimmering through the foliage of the trees, an hour after the rest seemed to be asleep. Just as I was at last sinking into unconsciousness, Johnny, sitting up among the leaves in which he was half buried, inquired softly, "Max, are you awake!" I spoke to him, to let him know that he was not alone. "I can't get asleep," said he, "every thing looks so beautiful and so strange. It seems to me I never saw the moon and the stars so big and so bright." "You must keep your eyes shut, and not look at the moon, if you want to get asleep." "But the trees keep rustling so; just as if they were whispering softly to one another; and then the sound of the waves on the reef is so sad and mournful, that it sets me to thinking all sorts of strange things. I wonder whether there are any wild animals on the island!" I assured him that it was quite improbable, and that no dangerous animals of any kind were ever found on the islands of the Pacific. This, however, did not seem to satisfy him entirely, and I began to suspect that his mind was running on the jackalls, tiger-cats, and hyenas of the Swiss Family Robinson. A question or two which he presently asked, showed that I had guessed correctly, and I hastened to meet the difficulty, by reminding him that "their island, (if indeed it was an island at all, and not a part of the mainland), was situated near the coast of New Holland, from which animals might pass over to it by swimming." "Why, I thought," said Johnny, "that there were no wild animals in New Holland, except kangaroos and opossums: my book of beasts, birds, and fishes, says so." This was a fact in Natural History which I was not prepared to gainsay; especially when backed by so redoubtable an authority as "the book of beasts, birds, and fishes." For a moment I was taken all aback; but being loathe to give up my little companion a prey to imaginary jackalls, tiger-cats, and hyenas, I rallied again, resolved upon one more desperate effort for his deliverance. "Well," said I, "the fact is, we don't know exactly where the Swiss Family Robinson's island really was--it is altogether uncertain. It may have been near Java, or Ceylon, or the coast of India, in which case, all those Asiatic beasts could easily have got there--that is, if the two places were close enough together. Now we know that we are somewhere in the middle of the Pacific, a vast distance from any continent, or any of the great Indian islands, so that large animals here are out of the question, unless they have taken a swim of a thousand miles or so." This seemed to be pretty decisive; and I think it settled the jackalls, tiger-cats, and hyenas, effectually, for Johnny said no more on the subject, except to remark, that, even if they _could_ swim that distance, they would stand a bad chance with the sharks and other sea-monsters; to which I added, as a final clincher, that in any event they would be sure to starve on the voyage, unless they should bring a large supply of provisions along. "Well," said he, after a minute's silence, "I'm not afraid of anything; but somehow or other I feel very wide awake to-night, and not in the least sleepy." "Shut your eyes," said I, "and think of a great wheel, whirling round and round, with a regular and even motion, and never stopping, until you have counted it go round a hundred times." Johnny laughed softly to himself, as though pleased with this device, and was quite still for a minute or two; then he spoke again. "It has gone round a hundred times, but towards the end it got a-going dreadfully fast; it _would_ go fast in spite of all I could do." "Never mind the wheel, then," said I, "but think of the huge lazy swells in a calm, rising and falling, rising and falling, as they did when we lay rocking in the boat, all those long days and nights, out on the sea." "Well, I'll try--but I don't believe it will be of any use." "Don't look at the moon, and don't speak to me again--unless for something very particular--and now good night." "Good night!" and he nestled down among his leaves again. In a very few minutes the deep and regular breathing of the little patient, proved the efficacy of my sleeping prescription, and announced that his troubles for that night were over. CHAPTER SIXTEEN. DOMESTIC EMBARRASSMENTS. A DESERT ISLAND BREAKFAST--PERSUASIVE REASONING--ROMANCE AND REALITY-- THE PRINCE AND PRINCESS. "Now my co-mates, and brothers in exile, Hath not long custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, The seasons' difference; as the icy fang And churlish chiding of the winter's wind." The next morning "the Islanders," or some of them, at least, were stirring early; and the first thing that attracted my attention, on opening my eyes, was a busy group, consisting of Max, Eiulo, and Johnny, gathered round a fire at a little distance, and engaged in some apparently very interesting operation. A savoury smell at the same time saluted my olfactory organs, and on approaching the scene of action, to investigate the matter more closely, I found my finny prize of the preceding evening undergoing a somewhat primitive style of cookery, of which Max appeared to be the chief director and superintendent. A number of large oysters were also roasting in the embers; and from these last proceeded the grateful and appetising odour referred to. "Good morning!" cried Max; "you see we have breakfast nearly ready; and a breakfast, too, that will be a positive luxury, after so long a course of cocoa-nut diet; how Browne will exult at the sight of it; how his eyes will open--to say nothing of his mouth! And don't we deserve a vote of thanks for our early labours for the general good?" Morton and Browne at this moment emerged from their respective heaps of leaves, and, after rather more than the usual amount of yawning and stretching of limbs, came towards the fire. "Fee, faw, fo, fum!" cried Morton, snuffing the agreeable smell of the cookery in progress, "I trust we're not too late for breakfast, and that there is something more than the savour of good victuals left." "You are in good time," said Johnny, bustling about the fire with an air of official dignity, "the first bell hasn't rung yet." "But why has Shakespeare such a long face?" said Max; "has camping out caused a reminiscence of rheumatism!" "Bad dreams, horrible dreams!" answered Browne, shaking his head solemnly, "which came of lying staring at the moon last night, until I fell asleep:"--then throwing himself into an attitude, he commenced declaiming with a tragic air-- "`O, I have passed a miserable night, So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights, That as I am a Christian, faithful man, I would not pass another such a night Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days, So full of dismal terror was the time.'" "Bravo!" cried Max, applauding furiously, "I like to see that; it's what I call coming out strong under discouraging circumstances. Here are we, six forlorn castaways, on a desert island, somewhere, (no one knows where), in the Pacific Ocean; and, instead of moping, and sulking, and bemoaning our hard fate, we wake up of a fine morning, quite bright and cheerful, and one of the six, (or seven, more correctly speaking), goes to work spouting Shakespeare, carrying us back to old times, and making us feel, (as Morton would say), like `happy schoolboys again.'" "What's all this?" cried Arthur, coming forward with a puzzled air, "what is Max making a speech about? has he taken the stump as a candidate for the presidency of the island?" "He needn't do that," said Browne, "we're not going to have any presidents, or other republican trumpery here; I have formally taken possession of the island in the name of Victoria; and it is therefore a colony of Great Britain; I shall apply, at the first convenient opportunity, for letters patent, making me colonial governor." "Tory, monarchist!" cried Max, "recant at once, or you sha'n't taste a mouthful of my breakfast." "Do you think I'll sell my loyalty for a mess of pottage! No, I'm for a well-regulated monarchy: hurrah for Victoria!" "Down with the Britisher!" cried Johnny, entering into the spirit of the scene, and tugging at Browne's coat-tails; "make him hurrah for the stars and stripes, or else don't give him any of our oysters!" "You're surely not going back to the principles of the dark ages--you won't attack the right of private judgement, and persecute for opinion's sake." "The right of private judgment, indeed!" answered Max, with great contempt. "I hold that no person can have a right, on any pretence whatever, to entertain erroneous opinions on important subjects, affecting the welfare of mankind. If a man does entertain such opinions, it is the duty of those who know better to convince him of the error by the most effectual arguments at their command. It is, therefore, my duty to open your eyes to the blessings of liberal institutions. I have here, (pointing towards the incipient breakfast), the most powerful means to assist and quicken your perception of the truth. Shall I not use those means?" "The line of argument which you indicate is exceedingly forcible, (how delightfully those oysters smell!) I really think I begin to perceive some of the advantages of republicanism already." "With the right of private judgment, properly understood," resumed Max, "I should be reluctant to interfere. You will, I presume, enjoy the exercise of so precious a privilege, even with a cocoa-nut breakfast, which you can probably obtain, by requesting Prince Eiulo to scale one of yonder tufted trees." "How clear the matter becomes with a little reflection," observed Browne "(this camping out in the open air gives one a famous appetite). In fact your reasoning is almost irresistible, (that fish looks particularly nice), and really I begin to think I can safely profess myself a good republican--until after breakfast at any rate." Max's culinary operations being at last completed, Johnny placed a huge shell to his lips, and sounded a long blast by way of announcement that breakfast was ready. The fish was served up in a fresh palm-leaf, and Johnny declared with much complacency, that not all the crockery-stores in New York, could furnish a platter of such royal dimensions. The leaves of the hibiscus, served admirably for plates; for knives and forks, we used the strong stalks, or central fibres, of cocoa-nut leaflet; which, with fingers in reserve for an emergency, answered at least as well as the chopsticks of the Chinese. Upon the whole, it cannot be denied that our table-service, simple as it was, has its advantages: it involved no necessity for any washing of dishes, no anxiety on the score of broken crockery, and we could indulge in the extravagance of a new dinner set every day, or even at every meal, for that matter, if so disposed. The fish proved most excellent, resembling the striped bass in flavour and appearance: as to the oysters, they were unanimously voted equal to Shrewsburys. "Ah!" sighed Max, "if we had now but a cup of coffee and a hot roll, those inestimable blessings of civilisation, we could almost forget that we are on a desert island." "Wait until the bread-fruit ripens," said Arthur, "and we shall have a tolerably fair substitute for your `hot rolls.' Eiulo will show us the most approved mode of preparing it, and we shall find it nearly equal to the wheaten loaf." "All that Max seems to think about, is the eating," said Browne, swallowing the last remaining oyster, "but I begin to feel troubled about another matter: see, I am getting fairly out at the elbows, and neither `coffee and rolls,' nor roast-beef and plum-pudding in indefinite quantities, would afford me any satisfaction, compared to the possession of a supply of clothing, or even a few changes of linen--in fact, comrades, what are we to do? There is danger that we shall all become savages: I begin to feel a loss of self-respect already." "We shall have to go into the manufacturing business, I suppose," said Arthur. "I have often watched the whole process of making tappa, or native cloth, from the bark of the paper-mulberry; it is quite simple, and I have no doubt we can succeed in it; I have talked with Eiulo on the subject and find that he understands the process thoroughly." "But are there any paper-mulberries on the island!" inquired Morton. "I have not seen any," answered Arthur. "If there are none, the bark of the bread-fruit tree will answer nearly as well: the cloth made from it is as strong and durable, though not so fine." "For the present, and before we go into home manufactures," said Max, "I advise Shakespeare, in order to avoid the loss of his remaining self-respect in consequence of wearing foul linen, to betake himself to the beach, wash his garments, and take a bath until they dry in the sun, which is the course I intend to pursue myself." "And what are we going to do for shoes, I wonder!" said Johnny, "mine are badly cracked and torn, and nearly worn out: we shall all have to go barefoot!" and he looked aghast at the thought. "We must kill a shark by-and-bye," said Arthur, "when we have nothing more pressing to do; and we can make leggins, or moccasins, from the skin." "How these things kill the romance and poetry of desert island life!" said Max, "there's no romance about being out at the elbows, or being obliged to wear dirty linen--" "Or in doing one's own washing in salt-water, and sitting naked while one's clothes are drying," interposed Browne, pathetically. "Or in having your toes poke out at the end of your boots," added Morton, advancing his right foot in illustration. "No! these are all stern realities," said Max, "cases not provided for in the story-books; how is it, Johnny, are there any precedents going to show how desert islanders do their washing and mending?" "I think they generally saved heaps of clothes from the wreck," answered Johnny, gravely. "Robinson Crusoe brought off several chests, containing ever so many sailors' clothes of all sorts; whether there were any shoes or not, I don't remember: the Swiss family Robinson also obtained an abundance of such things from the wreck of their ship before it sunk; Philip Quarll made garments for himself from the skins of animals." "But what are we to do? we havn't any wreck from which to supply ourselves with chests of clothing, with arms and ammunition, and stores of ship-biscuit and salt provisions. We're worse off it seems, than any of our predecessors. And since we are not supplied with the requisite capital and stock-in-trade for desert islanders, it is reasonable to infer that we are not destined to a Robinson Crusoe life, so that we may confidently expect to be taken off by some ship, in a short time." As we were finishing our breakfast, a couple of tiny, fairy-like tern, came flying round us. They were very tame, and hovered smoothly over our heads, at the distance of sometimes but a few feet. Their plumage was snowy-white, and as they glided quietly around, peering curiously into our faces, you could almost fancy that there was the gleam of intelligence in their large eyes. "O, what beautiful little birds!" cried Johnny, in great delight: "I wish I had some crumbs of bread for them." "Who knows, Johnny," suggested Max, "but these strange little birds, as they seem to be, are no birds, after all, but an unfortunate prince and princess, who having incurred the resentment of some potent enchanter, have been transformed by his magical arts into their present shape, and banished to this desert island; and have now come to us for sympathy and assistance--see what a mournful expression there is in their mild dark eyes!" Johnny was pleased with the conceit, and the little tern were always afterwards known as the prince and princess. They frequently came hovering around us in the most friendly and fearless manner, when we were in that part of the island. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. THE PROGRESS OF DISCOVERY. A VOICE IN THE WOODS--VIVE NAPOLEON!--CALCULATING THE LONGITUDE--THE "WILD FRENCHMAN'S" HAT. _Stephano_. Hark! what sound is that? _Caliban_. Art thou afeard, master? _Stephano_. No, monster, not I. _Caliban_. Be not afeard: the isle is full of noises. Our failure to discover fresh water, or any indications of it, during yesterday's expedition, increased the anxiety which we felt on the subject and we determined to devote the day to a continuation of the search. The base of Castle-Hill was skirted on the left and divided from the neighbouring forest by a deep gully, that had much the appearance of a dried-up water-course, and was probably a channel by which, in the rainy season, the water from the higher ground was conveyed to the sea. From the hill we could trace the course of the ravine, until it struck the beach, near the point where the small grove, before spoken of, seemed to spring up out of the lagoon. Our last evening's ramble along the shore had extended nearly to this spot and to avoid going over the same ground a second time, we struck into the ravine, and followed its course as it descended towards the beach. Johnny every now and then, without any apparent object, unless to evince his entire superiority to any feeling of timidity, separated himself from the rest and disappeared for a time in the forest, generally returning with a specimen of some new plant or flower, or an account of some strange bird, or curious tree, which he had seen. From one of these adventurous excursions, he came rushing back; closely followed by Eiulo, both looking a good deal frightened, and, as soon as he had recovered breath sufficiently to be able to speak, he earnestly affirmed that he had heard a man call out to him in the wood. His statement was strange enough; he had found a twining plant, with a flower like a morning glory, and called loudly for Eiulo, who was a little way off, to come and see if it was the patara vine. The root of this plant is a valuable and nutritious esculent, and Arthur had described the leaf and flower to us, in order that we might recognise it if met with. Immediately a harsh voice issued from a neighbouring thicket, uttering some words which he did not distinctly understand, but they were in French, and were something about Napoleon. "In French!--and about Napoleon!" cried Arthur, in amazement. "Are you quite sure, Johnny, that you heard any words at all;--any thing more than a strange noise of some kind?" But Johnny was positive;--he had heard the "Napoleon," as plainly as he ever heard any thing. There were only a few words--not more than two or three, but they were spoken very distinctly, and quite loud, as if the person were cheering; he could not be mistaken. "Only two or three words," pursued Arthur, "would you know them again if you should hear them repeated?" "Yes, I think I should." "Was it `Vive Napoleon!' that you heard?" "Those are the very words!" cried Johnny; "they were spoken as plainly as you speak them, but in a rougher voice." "Did you see any thing--did you look towards the thicket!" "I saw something stir, but could not tell what it was. The voice was harsh and angry, and I was frightened, and ran away as fast as I could. I thought perhaps it was a wild man--some one who had been shipwrecked here many years ago, and lived alone in the woods until he had grown wild or mad." Johnny was so positive in this singular story, that for a moment we hardly knew what to think of it. Eiulo too had heard the voice--the same harsh voice that Johnny described as issuing from the thicket. But the notion of any person amusing himself by shouting "Vive Napoleon!" in the forests of a solitary island in the Pacific, seemed so preposterous, that we could not help coming to the conclusion, that some sudden noise in the wood had seemed to Johnny's excited imagination like a human voice--though why he should fancy that it uttered those particular words--the words of a strange language, was a puzzle which we could not solve. We, however, turned into the forest, and Johnny pointed out the spot where he was standing when he heard the voice. There were the vines, with flowers like morning-glories; and there was the thicket whence, as he alleged, the sound had proceeded. We shouted aloud several times, but there was no response, except from a large bird that rose heavily into the air, uttering a discordant scream; and we were satisfied that it was this, or some similar sound, that had startled Johnny; in which conviction we dismissed the matter from our minds. The flowering vine proved to be the patara, which Arthur had been so anxious to discover, and on digging it up, two roots, resembling large potatoes, were found attached to the stalk. Quite a number of these plants were scattered about the neighbourhood; enough, as Arthur said, to make a tolerable potato patch. All this time Max was missing, having been some little distance in advance of the rest, when Johnny had raised his strange alarm. When we got back into the ravine, he was not in sight, but we had hardly resumed our progress towards the shore, when we heard him calling out that he had found water. At this announcement, our orderly march broke at once into a hasty scramble. Browne alone maintained his dignity, and came on at his usual elephantine pace, probably suspecting that the pretended discovery was a hoax. Morton and I raced along the hollow, "neck and neck," till we suddenly reached a point where there was an abrupt descent to the level of the shore. We were under too much headway to be able to stop, and jumping together down the steep bank, we narrowly missed alighting upon Max, as he lay extended on the ground, scooping up water with his hand, from the basin of a small pool. I came down close beside him, while Morton, sprang fairly over his head, and alighted with a great splash in the centre of the pool. I had barely time to roll out of the way, when the others, with the exception of Browne, came tumbling in their turn over the bank, which took them as much by surprise as it had us. Morton's lamentable figure, as he stood motionless in the midst of the pool, drenched with water, and with a great patch of black mud plastered over one eye, together with Max's look of consternation at his own narrow escape, were irresistibly ludicrous, and provoked a laugh, in which, after a moment, they both heartily joined. "Very obliging of you, Morton," said Max, recovering his self-possession, "I wanted to see how deep it was, and you are a good enough measuring-stick; just stand still a minute, if you please." "You have reason to feel obliged to me," answered Morton, extricating himself from the mud, "it was on your account solely that I got into this pickle. I had to choose between breaking your neck, as you lay right in my way, or jumping into this hole, and not having much time to deliberate, it isn't surprising if I came to a foolish conclusion." "It would be less unfeeling," replied Max, "as well as more strictly according to the facts of the case, to say a hasty conclusion, which might be understood literally, and would then be literally correct." The water, which we found to be good, though slightly brackish, was contained in a narrow pit situated in the centre of a circular hollow, or basin. It was not more than half full, but its sides showed a fresh and distinct water-mark, more than a foot above the present level. At the edge of the basin, a solitary palm shot upward its straight shaft, to the height of nearly a hundred feet; the long, fringed leaves drooping from the top, like a bunch of gigantic ostrich plumes, and overshadowing the well. It seemed difficult to account for this supply of fresh water in so unpromising a spot, and so near the sea-shore. I was at first inclined to think it nothing more than a reservoir of standing water, left by the last rains, which had filled not only the pit, but also the surrounding basin. The former being deep and narrow, evaporation would be very gradual, which might, I supposed, account for the small quantity still remaining. "That can hardly be," said Arthur, when I suggested this explanation, "the spot is wholly unsheltered from the sun, except at noon, by this screen of palm-leaves, and if the entire hollow were filled with water this morning, there would not be a drop of moisture left in three days, unless the supply were renewed. Besides, the water is too fresh and sweet to have stood since the last rains." "I should judge," said Morton, "that this spot is but little above the level of the lagoon, and if the bottom of the well here, is below that level at ebb tide, this supply of fresh water can be easily accounted for." "The rise and fall of the tide here, does not seem to be more than eighteen inches, or two feet," said Max, "and as to the depth of the pit or well, as you call it, you ought to be able to speak with confidence, having so recently been to the bottom of it." "There are wells on the low islands of the West Indies," said Morton, "which communicate with the sea, and rise and fall with the tide, the sea-water penetrating through the sand, and being distilled in its passage: and I think this is one of the same kind. Here is a recent water-mark, more than a foot above the present level. If I am right, we shall find that the tide is now low." Arthur thrust a stick into the side of the well to mark the height of the water, while Johnny rushed furiously down to the beach, and in a moment came posting back with the announcement that the tide _was_ low. "Very well, so far," said Arthur, "it only remains to be seen, whether, when the tide has risen, there will be any corresponding rise here." "And, meantime," suggested Browne, "let us refresh ourselves with a bath, before the sun gets higher; and we can also take the opportunity to give our under garments the benefit of an ablution, as Max has proposed." No one can fully appreciate the luxury of sea-bathing who has not enjoyed it within the tropics. The calm, transparent water, with the firm white beach and bottom, looked so deliciously cool and inviting, that the suggestion was adopted as soon as made; and the expedition with which the preliminaries were got through with, reminded me of those eager races to "the pond," on the letting out of the village school at home, of a hot summer afternoon, in which several of our present company had often been competitors for the honour of being "the first one in." Arthur warned us to beware of sharks, and to keep a vigilant look-out for "back fins," and our dread of those prowling and rapacious monsters, was a great drawback to the enjoyment of our bath. In all the feats and dexterities of the swimmer's art, Eiulo far outdid the rest of us, moving through the water with the ease, rapidity, and gracefulness of a fish. After one or two trials with him, in swimming under water, and diving for shells, even Max yielded the palm, declaring that he was ready to match himself against any land animal, but should for the future decline entering into a contest of that kind with amphibious creatures. Eiulo thought that this swimming in smooth water was but indifferent sport and began to talk to Arthur with great animation, in his native tongue, about the pleasures of "faahee," or surf-bathing, and the exquisite fun of dodging the "manos," or sharks, among the rollers. Presently he struck out into the lagoon, and before we could guess his intention, he swam over to the reef, and, picking his way across it, plunged fearlessly among the breakers on the outside. He stayed, however, but a short time, and came back saying, that the "manos" were altogether too thick out there, and that a huge blue one, had come near seizing him in the surf, before he could catch a roller so as to land safely upon the reef. When blamed by Arthur for his rashness, he laughed, and promised that he would not incur the risk again. From his frightened looks when he got back, I guessed that he had not found "dodging the mano" such exquisite fun as he had anticipated. Max presently desisted from swimming, in order, as he said, to "do his washing," consoling himself for the hardship of being obliged to do laundress' work, with the reflection that the necessity for such a task would soon cease, as our clothes being in constant use, without the benefit of a change, could not last long. Browne and I followed this example, and having spread our garments in the sun to dry, resumed our aquatic sports in the meantime. Arthur dressed himself and accompanied by Eiulo, left us, saying that he would rejoin us in an hour at the hill. The two proceeded a short distance along the shore to the right, and then turned into the forest to search, as we supposed, for plants, or roots, capable of being turned to useful account. By the time our clothes were sufficiently dry to be put on, the tide had risen considerably, and on repairing to the well, we found the water several inches above Arthur's mark, thus confirming Morton's theory in regard to it. Though we should have been better pleased to have discovered a spring, yet there was no reason to doubt that here was an ample and permanent supply of fresh water. As it was now getting towards noon, and the day was excessively hot, we returned to Castle-Hill, to enjoy the grateful shade of its cool, dark groves, and the breeze which was sure to play about its summit, if air was stirring any where. Max sought out a leafy bower of ferns and creepers, near the foot of the great candle-nut tree, where he stretched himself out and went to sleep. Johnny got his bow and arrows, and began to practise archery, by shooting at the large and gaudy insects hovering around the blossoms of the vines, and when, probably by accident, he carried away the wing of one of them at the distance of some six or seven yards, he boasted loudly of the exploit, and intimated that in case of a brush with any cannibals, his bow might be relied on to do some execution. Getting tired at length of his crusade against the butterflies, he expressed a wish to try his skill upon some larger game, but as nothing in the shape of a jackall or tiger-cat was obliging enough to make its appearance, he put aside his weapons with a sigh, and lying down near Max, was soon asleep. There was a drowsy influence in the profound quiet, and subdued light of the spot, to which I should soon have yielded but for Browne, who began to talk of Scottish scenes and legends, with sufficient interest to keep Morton and myself awake. It seemed strange enough, to lie there in that tropical forest, listening to an enthusiastic description of the rugged sublimity of the Trossachs, the romantic beauty of Loch Vennacher, Loch Katrine, and Loch Achray, or the lovely vale of Kelso, bosomed in green woods, with its placid streams, smooth lawns, and hazel-fringed dells. About noon, Arthur and Eiulo made their appearance, emerging from the grove to the south-east of the hill, laden with roots, plants, strips of bark, etcetera. They had been looking for the auti, or paper-mulberry, but without success. Arthur had discovered a large and beautiful species of sweet-scented fern, with a tuberous root shaped like a sweet-potato, which he said was baked and eaten by the Society Islanders: he brought with him several entire specimens, root and all. The leaves were fragrant and elegantly shaped, and the roots were of a mottled brown and yellow. Eiulo carried in his hand an unripe bread-fruit--a splendid pea-green globe, nearly as big as his head. They had discovered a noble grove of this most valuable tree, at no great distance from the hill, but the fruit was not yet perfectly ripe. Johnny, who had awaked at the return of the absentees, was greatly delighted at these discoveries, and began to lament that he had not accompanied Arthur. He inquired very particularly as to the direction of the bread-fruit grove, as if cherishing the design of setting out at once to visit it; but Browne letting some thing drop about the voice in the woods, Johnny changed the subject, and saying that it must be nearly dinner-time, proposed to make a fire, and bake the fern roots, so as to test their quality. Upon hearing this, Max, whose slumbers had also been disturbed, raised his head for a moment and exclaimed so vehemently against the very mention of a fire, when we were already dissolving with heat, that nothing further was said about it. "And now," said Arthur, after having given a full account of his discoveries, and answered all Johnny's questions, "I believe it is just noon, and while I think of it, I will try to ascertain our longitude." "Ascertain our longitude!" exclaimed Browne, "pray, how do you propose to do that without instruments?" "I know the longitude of the Kingsmill islands," answered Arthur, "and if I can find our distance east or west of them, of course, I have the longitude of this island." "But there's the difficulty; how can you ascertain even whether we are to the east, or to the west of them?" "In the first place, then, I have Kingsmill island time; my watch was last set, one day while we were there, just after Mr Frazer had taken an observation." "Do you mean to say," inquired I with some interest, "that you have regularly wound up your watch every day since then, without once forgetting or neglecting it during all that has since occurred?" "I did regularly, every night before sleeping; and during all the time that we were at sea in the boat, hardly a day passed that I did not note down some memoranda in my pocket-book." "That now, is positively diabolical!" exclaimed Max, from his covert among the creepers, where he was completely invisible, except his heels, which were kicking in the air; "I wouldn't have believed, Arthur, that you were such a methodical, cold-blooded creature! I suppose now, that if I had tumbled overboard during that hideous time, and been gulped down by a shark, or if Shakespeare had starved to death, you would have made a regular memorandum of the event, in business-like style, and wound up your watch as usual. I think I see the entry in your pocket-book, thus: `1839, June 3rd--Mem. Max Adeler fell overboard this day, and was devoured by a shark--an amiable and interesting youth, though too much given to levity, and not prepared, I fear, for so unexpected a summons. June 5th--Mem. My worthy and estimable friend, John Browne, late of Glasgow, Scotland, died this day, from lack of necessary food. Threw him overboard. What startling monitions of the uncertainty of life!'" "Peace, Kaiser Maximilien, peace!" cried Browne, "and let the Professor proceed to fix our longitude." "The first thing," resumed Arthur, "is to plant a straight stick upright in the ground; when it casts no shadow east or west it is twelve o'clock _here_. My watch will then show what time it is at the Kingsmills: if it shows an earlier hour there, we must be east of them; if a later hour, then we are west of them." "I think I understand that," said Johnny; "the next thing is to tell how far east or west we are." "That is quite easy. There are, you know, three hundred and sixty degrees of longitude: the sun passes through them all--that is, round the globe in twenty-four hours. Then, of course, in one hour, it passes through fifteen degrees, and through one degree in four minutes; so that for every four minutes' difference of time, there will be a difference of longitude of one degree--that is, near the equator, about seventy miles." "It must be very near noon now," said Johnny, running out into a patch of sunshine, where a small opening in the grove let in the light, "see! I have hardly any shadow at all." Arthur planted a stick in the ground, and as soon as the shadow marked the hour of noon, looked at his watch, by which it was eighteen minutes after twelve. "It would seem from this," said he, "that we are four degrees and a half, or over three hundred miles, west of the Kingsmills: it also appears that we are very near the line, but a little south of it, for the shadow inclines a little southward." "It is all nonsense," cried Max, sitting up in the grass, "to pretend to ascertain where we are, in any such way as this. If your watch, (which you know is a miserable time-keeper), has lost or gained but twenty minutes since we left the Kingsmills, which is now nearly two months, then what becomes of your learned calculations about the difference of time, and of the longitude, and all that?" Arthur laughed, and admitted that this grave impeachment of the character of his chronometer, was not entirely without foundation, and that in consequence, the strict accuracy of the results arrived at, could not be relied on. "The only thing that we can be at all certain about in regard to our position," said Max, "is, that we are south of the line." "How can that be?" inquired Browne, "the Pole-star is visible from here, or, at any rate, we saw it on the second or third night we were at sea in the boat." "A part of the Great Bear can be seen," answered Arthur, "but not the north star, I think. I looked for it last night, and though I could see all the stars of the Dipper, the pointers were near the horizon, and the Pole-star below it. But even if visible, it would be no evidence that we are north of the equator, for I believe it can be seen from the fourth or fifth degree of south latitude." "See now," said Browne, "what a pretty neighbourhood you are getting us into, with your wise calculations! If we are south of the line, and far west of the Kingsmills, we must be somewhere near the Bidera Sea, and the Mendana Archipelago, about which the young sailor Roby, who was always boasting of having sailed with the famous Captain Morell, used to tell us such wonderful stories." "It is good ground," replied Arthur, "for one who wants to exercise a traveller's privilege, and recount marvels and prodigies, without fear of contradiction. Those seas are full of large islands, with countless numbers of smaller ones, and remain to this day almost unexplored. In fact, little more is now ascertained in regard to them, than was known two hundred and fifty years ago, soon after their discovery by the Spanish navigator Mendana; so that a man who pretends, as Roby does, to have gone over the ground himself, may tell pretty much what stories he pleases, without danger of any one being able to convict him of inaccuracy." "What!" exclaimed Johnny, opening his eyes to their utmost extent, "do you suppose we are near those islands Jack Roby tells about, where the natives chew betel and lime out of a carbo-gourd, and sacrifice men to their idols, and tear out and devour the hearts of their enemies?" "And where King Rogerogee lived," added Max, "(you remember him Johnny), the giant seven feet and a half high, who wore a paradise plume on his head, and a girdle of the claws and beaks of birds around his waist? Why, this may be the very island of Podee over which he reigned, and we ought not to be greatly surprised to see him look in upon us at any moment, with his paradise plume waving among the tops of the trees, and his spear, eighteen feet long, in his hand." "Don't let Rogerogee disturb your dreams, Johnny," said Arthur, "if there is any such place as the island of Podee, which I very much doubt, it is, according to Roby's own account, but a few leagues to the east of Papua, and some twelve or thirteen hundred miles at least, west of us." Max now got up, and after stretching himself, and giving three or four great yawns, came towards the spot where the rest of us were sitting; but after taking a few steps, he suddenly stopped, uttering an exclamation of surprise, and looking down at something in the grass at his feet. He then kicked a dark object out of a tall bunch of fern, towards us. It was an old beaver hat crushed flat, and covered with mildew and dirt. Robinson Crusoe was not more startled by the footprint in the sand, than were we at the sight of this unequivocal trace of civilised man. Arthur picked it up, and restoring it partially to its proper shape, examined the inside. On the lining of the crown appeared in gilt letters-- PIERRE BAUDIN, CHAPELIER, RUE RICHELIEU, NUMERO 20. A PARIS. "Here, then," said Max, "is an end of the notion that we are the first inhabitants of this island; it is clear that others have been, if they are not now upon it. Perhaps, Johnny, this is the hat of the man you heard talking French in the woods this morning." "At any rate," said, Arthur, after a moment of thoughtful silence, "this must be the place where the Frenchman who perished in the water-spout and his companions, were cast away, and from which they afterwards reached Eiulo's island in a small boat. The well yonder is probably their work, and we may perhaps find other evidences of their stay here, when we come to explore the island more thoroughly." CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. ABOUT TEWA. A DULL CHAPTER, BUT NECESSARY--WAKATTA AND ATOLLO--A GENTLE HINT--MAX AS AN ARCHITECT. "In the forest hollow roaring, Hark! I hear a deepening sound, Clouds rise thick with heavy lowering, See! the horizon blackens round." It must not be inferred from the occasional bursts of holiday humour, in which we indulged, that we had become reconciled to our exile, and were now ready to subside into a state of indolent contentment satisfied with security from present danger, and the abundant means of subsistence which we had discovered. Not even a tropical paradise, with its warm, glowing sky and balmy atmosphere, its "ambrosial fruits and amaranthine flowers," could charm us into oblivion of home, and those who made it dear; or diminish the bitterness of the thought of being cut off for ever from human intercourse, and of having all our plans of life deranged and frustrated. Though we did not brood continually over our unfortunate situation, we were far from being insensible to it. The loveliest island that ever reposed in undiscovered beauty, upon the bosom of the "blue summer ocean," though rich in all things necessary to supply every material want, must still have seemed to us but as a gilded and luxurious prison, from which we should never cease to sigh for an escape. Arthur's conclusion, mentioned at the end of the last chapter, seemed in itself so probable, and was confirmed by so many circumstances, that it was readily adopted by us all; and believing that the party, of whose presence at one time upon the island the hat was an evidence, had left it years ago, the occurrence no longer appeared to possess any importance, and we dismissed it altogether from our thoughts. Eiulo, when questioned on the subject of the white men living among his own people, repeated substantially his former statement, that they came from an island lying south of his father's, and distant from it less than a day's sail. It seemed, also, that before the arrival of the whites, an island lying in the direction from which they had come, had been known to some, at least, of the natives, and visited by them. In the course of the conversations which he had with Arthur, at various times, about his father's people and their affairs, Eiulo had often spoken of an old warrior, Wakatta by name, famous for his courage and great personal strength, of which he related many remarkable instances. Through two generations he had been the most devoted and valued friend of the family of his chief; and upon his wisdom, sagacity, and prowess, Eiulo's father and grandfather had relied in many an emergency, and seldom in vain. Formerly, the three islands were independent of each other, and were ruled by separate chiefs, who sometimes engaged in sanguinary wars among themselves, in most of which Wakatta had played a prominent part. A great many moons ago, as Eiulo expressed it, the chiefs of the two smaller islands had united their forces against his grandfather, who was then chief of Tewa, the third and largest. To this enterprise they had been incited by Atollo, an uncle of Eiulo, and younger brother of the present chief, his father. This man was possessed of great ability, and his reputation as a warrior was second only to that of Wakatta, who was many years his senior, so that among those of his own age he was considered without an equal. But, though eminent for talent and courage, he seemed to be entirely destitute of principle or feeling; and impelled, as was supposed, by a spirit of unscrupulous ambition, (for no other motive could be assigned), this unnatural son plotted against the lives of his own father and elder brother. His designs being discovered, and fully exposed, he fled to one of the neighbouring islands, and sought the protection of its chief, his father's most formidable and inveterate enemy. Afterwards, by his address and energy, he succeeded in bringing about a league between the chiefs of the two smaller islands, for the purpose of an attack against Tewa, by their combined forces. The enterprise was planned with the greatest secrecy, and executed with equal skill and daring. At midnight, the allies set sail, in a fleet of war canoes, and two hours before dawn they had disembarked at Tewa, marched to the principal village, where the chief resided, and made all their dispositions for the attack, which was so totally unexpected, that it was crowned with complete success. Scarcely any resistance was made: the principal Tewan warriors were slain in their beds, or taken prisoners; and Eiulo's father and grandfather, with Wakatta, only saved their lives by fleeing to the mountains. Knowing that the strictest search would be made for them, and that if taken, instant death would be their doom; they stole forth from their lurking-place by night, repaired to the beach, and taking a large canoe, which they discovered there, set sail in her, steering boldly southward, in search of a considerable island which was believed to lie in that direction. Soon after sunrise they came in sight of land, but, on approaching it, they found that the surf was bursting with great fury upon a barrier reef, stretching between them and the shore; and it was not until they had coasted along it for many hours, that they succeeded in effecting a landing. Eiulo had heard both his father and Wakatta speak of the island as a singularly beautiful spot, nearly as large as Tewa, and abounding in bread-fruit and cocoa-nut trees. Here the fugitives remained for several months, until, becoming wearied of their solitary life, and possessed by an irresistible longing to revisit their homes, they came to the determination to venture back, and learn the state of things there, at every hazard. They accordingly set sail one day at noon, in order that they might reach their destination under cover of night, in which they succeeded. Seeking a temporary place of concealment in the woods, they seized favourable opportunities to discover themselves to some friends, on whom they could rely. They learned that the victorious allies had been guilty of the most intolerable cruelty towards the people of Tewa. Many of the prisoners had been slain, as sacrifices to the gods, and many more had been made slaves. Atollo had established himself as chief at the conquered island, and had gathered about him a band of the most ferocious and desperate men, who practised every species of cruelty and oppression upon the inhabitants. The latter, driven to the utmost verge of endurance, were now ready to incur any risk in an attempt to deliver themselves from a yoke so galling. They needed only a leader, and the experience and prowess of Wakatta, together with the presence of their ancient and rightful chief and his son, inspired them with confidence and courage. Gathering a small, but resolute, band of warriors, they awaited the favourable moment to strike a decisive blow; and then, emulating the secrecy and suddenness of Atollo's recent enterprise, they sallied forth at night, from their rendezvous in the forest and fell upon him and his adherents. Wakatta was unable to restrain the ferocity of his followers, excited by the insults and injuries they had suffered, and they killed on the spot all who fell into their hands, pausing to make no prisoners. Atollo, after fighting like a tiger, though almost alone, succeeded in making his escape with a few of his attendants. The victors promptly carried the war into the neighbouring islands, both of which were completely subdued, and afterwards remained under the sway of Eiulo's grandfather until his death, when the present chief succeeded. Atollo, after resisting as long as there remained the slightest prospect of success, had sought refuge among the recesses of the mountains, where he still lurked with a few outlaw followers, as desperate as himself. His father had forbidden any search for him, or any efforts for his capture to be made; and such was the dread inspired by his desperate courage, ferocity, and cunning, and such the superstitious terror with which he was generally regarded, that few felt any inclination to transgress this command, or to meddle in any way with him or his followers; and he was consequently left unmolested in his favourite haunts, among the wild and almost inaccessible precipices of the interior. In seasons of scarcity, his father had even caused supplies of food to be placed where they would be likely to fall in his way. Eiulo always shuddered when he spoke of this man. Once, when accompanied by a young playmate and an attendant, he had strayed a long way into the wood in search of wild-flowers, and had, without being aware of it, approached the region frequented by the outlaws, a spear had suddenly been hurled at him from an adjacent thicket, with so deadly a purpose, that it whistled past within a few inches of his side. As they fled in alarm, and were clambering hastily down a steep descent, a mass of rock was disengaged from the verge of an overhanging precipice, and came near crushing them all. Looking back, in their flight, they saw a wild figure, which the attendant recognised at once as that of Eiulo's uncle, stooping at the edge of the cliff, in the act of loosening another large stone. Notwithstanding this murderous attempt, the present chief of Tewa continued to pursue the same forbearing course which his father had adopted, and Atollo was still permitted to remain unmolested among his mountain fastnesses. Eiulo, even before the discovery of the hat, had believed that we were upon the same island which his father had visited, as above related, and from which the whites had afterwards come. He was confident that by sailing northward, with a fair wind, we should reach Tewa in less than a day. Though generally cheerful, and overflowing with boyish spirits, there were times when it was apparent that he pined for his home; and, though he never directly urged it, he earnestly wished to have us make the attempt to reach his father's island in the yawl. At length I began to suspect, from the constant and minute inquiries which Arthur made in relation to Tewa, and its people, their usages, habits, etcetera, that he was thinking seriously of some such attempt. He directed his inquiries particularly to the point whether the island was ever visited by ships. Eiulo remembered hearing his father speak of big canoes, without any outriggers, and whose masts were as high as a cocoa-nut-tree, having passed in sight of the island. He had heard, too, that a long while ago, one of these great vessels had got aground, upon a reef between Tewa and the adjacent island, and that the natives had gone off to her in their canoes, and some of them had ventured on board at the invitation of the strangers. Old Wakatta was one of these, and he had received a wonderful present from the white chief, which he had often exhibited to Eiulo, and which, from his description of it, appeared to be neither more nor less than a small looking-glass. The great canoe had, by throwing overboard a part of her cargo, got off from the reef at the rising of the tide, and resumed her voyage. It was pretty evident that the arrival of a European vessel at the islands, was an event of very rare occurrence, and in all probability the result of mere accident. Except that he steadily pursued inquiries of this kind, Arthur said nothing to show that he entertained the thought of such an undertaking as I suspected him to be revolving. Browne and Morton both had exaggerated notions of the cruelty and treachery of the "heathen native;" as the former called them, and would, I had no doubt, be strongly averse to any step calculated to place us in their power, unless it should also, in some way, increase our prospects of ultimately getting home. For several days after the occurrences narrated in the last chapter, we remained at Castle-hill, making little excursions daily in various directions. Having now discovered a supply of fresh water, and abundant means of subsistence, it seemed as though there was at present nothing further for us to do, except to assist Arthur, as far as we could; in his preparations for manufacturing tappa. The weather was so genial, (except during the middle of the day, when the heat was frequently intolerable), that we felt no want of any other shelter than such as the grove afforded us. Generally, towards evening, a refreshing breeze set in from the sea, and lasted several hours. We experienced no bad effects from sleeping in the open air, and far from finding it a hardship, we soon came to consider it every way more pleasant, than to be cribbed and cabined within four close walls. There was something delightful, in dropping off into dreamland, listening to the whispering of the leaves above you, and catching glimpses through them, of a sky so deliciously blue, and stars so wonderfully bright. It seemed as though in this favoured spot, the fable of a perpetual summer was to be realised, and the whole circle of the year was to be crowned with the same freshness and verdure and beauty, the same profusion of fruits and flowers, which we had thus far enjoyed. But such expectations, if any of us were beguiled into entertaining them, were destined to be rudely dissipated. One hot afternoon, we were startled from a drowsy siesta in the grove, by a peal of thunder, such as is rarely heard in temperate climates, and on springing up and looking about us, we beheld above and around us, certain indications, which it would have been far more interesting and agreeable to contemplate from beneath the shelter of a snug and comfortable dwelling. The wind moaned through the bending tree-tops; the face of the heavens was black as night, and the waters of the lagoon, and of the ocean, had darkened to a steely blue beneath their frown. Before we had fairly shaken off our drowsiness, another abrupt peal of thunder burst overhead, with a suddenness that seemed to jar the very clouds and shake the water out of them, for the rain began all at once to come down violently, in big drops, that rattled like hailstones upon the crisp leaves of the forest. The thunder appeared to have completed its office in giving the signal for the clouds to discharge their contents, and we heard it no more. For a time, the dense foliage of the large tree under which we gathered, completely sheltered us; but soon the moisture began to drip slowly from the lower leaves, and occasionally fell in sudden showers, as the branches were shaken by the wind. At length, the ground became thoroughly saturated, shallow puddles formed in every little hollow or depression, and there was the prospect of a most miserable night if the storm should continue. Happily, this did not prove to be the case; in about an hour after we had been aroused by the first thunder peal, the clouds dispersed almost as suddenly as they had gathered; the sun shone forth brightly; the trees and the grass sparkled with raindrops, lustrous as diamonds, and the whole landscape smiled in fresher beauty than ever. This little occurrence, however, served as a seasonable hint to recall to our minds the importance of contriving some kind of a dwelling to afford us shelter in bad weather, and we resolved to lose no time in setting about it. Accordingly, the day following that of the thunder shower, as soon as we had returned from the beach, after taking our regular morning swim, Arthur called a council, to deliberate and determine upon the matter of house-building. The first thing was to fix upon a site; the only objection to the level space at the top of the hill, was its elevated position, exposing it to the full force of the violent winds which prevail at certain periods of the tropical year. But on that side from which the strongest winds blow, the spot was protected by still higher land towards the interior, and the fine trees of various kinds and sizes, (some of them evidently the growth of many years), among which could be seen no prostrate trunks, showed, as we thought, that nothing was to be feared from that source. We, therefore, selected a smooth, open space, near the edge of the terrace, commanding a view of the sea, through a vista of noble trees. Max insisted, that, inasmuch as with our limited architectural resources we could not make our house of more than one storey, we ought to build in "cottage style," and make up for deficiency in height, by spreading over a large surface. He then proceeded to mark out a ground-plan, upon a scale that would have been shockingly extravagant, had we been in a part of the world where the price of building-lots was to be taken into consideration. A parallelogram, nearly forty feet long by twenty-five in width, the narrower side fronting the sea, was the plan of the main building. This was to be flanked by two wings, each some sixteen feet square, which would serve to strengthen and support the principal structure. "Upon this model," Max complacently observed, "he intended one of these days to build his country-seat, near Mount Merino, on the Hudson: meantime, we were welcome to the benefit of the idea." "Really, we're greatly obliged to you, Max," said Browne, "for helping us so generously through with the most difficult part of the business. All that we now want in order to finish it at once, is merely a few loads of joist, plank, pine-boards, shingles, and window-sash; a supply of nails, a set of carpenter's tools, and a couple of carpenters to use them." "Of course," rejoined Max, "we shall want a supply of building materials, tools, etcetera, and I am expecting them along daily. We have now been here several weeks, and it is quite time, in the natural and regular course of things, and according to the uniform experience of people situated as we are, for a ship heavily laden, (say in our case), with lumber and hardware, to be driven upon our shores in the midst of a terrible storm, (yesterday, when it began to thunder, I thought it was at hand). The ship will come driving upon the reef--the crew will take to the boats, but no boat can live in such a sea, and notwithstanding our humane and daring efforts to assist them, all perish among the breakers--that is to say, all except the carpenter--whom I rescue, by plunging into the raging flood and dragging him ashore by the hair, just as he is about sinking for the third time." "Nobly done!" said Browne, "but couldn't you at the same time manage to save a drowning washerwoman? she would be as great an acquisition as the carpenter, in my mind." "At length," resumed Max, "the storm abates--the sea becomes smooth--we go out in the yawl to the stranded vessel, where she lies upon a coral patch, and bring off, in two boat loads, the carpenter's chest, a keg of gunpowder, a blunderbuss, seven muskets, fourteen pairs of pistols, and a bag of doubloons, (think of that, Johnny!) That very night the wind rises again: the surf breaks the wreck to pieces, and washes the fragments ashore, and in the morning the sea is strewn far and wide with floating spars, and bales, and barrels; and the reef is covered for miles with `joist, plank, pine-boards, shingles, window-sash,' and whatever other trifling conveniences are requisite for building my cottage. This is what Johnny and I confidently calculate upon." "In the meantime," said Arthur, "in case by any unfortunate accident your ship should fail to arrive in time to enable us to get the cottage up before the rains set in, I propose that we commence a less ambitious structure." He began to trace upon the ground with a pointed stick, the oval outline of what he called a `Tihitian fare.' "But even for my fare," he added, "we shall need the means of cutting down a number of good-sized trees." "Of which we are entirely destitute," said Max, with an air of triumph, "and I don't see but that we shall have to wait for my ship after all." "Not so," answered Arthur, "for I think that two or three of the cutlasses may be converted into tolerable saws, with which, by dint of a little patience, we can get out as many posts and rafters as will be requisite for the frame of our building, though I admit it will be tedious work." Johnny heaved a profound sigh at the prospect of the difficulties that lay in the way of his pet project of house-building, and wished that "that old magician who built the castle with a thousand windows for Aladdin, in a single night, would only be clever enough to lend us his assistance." But upon second thought, he concluded that there would be "no fun" in having our house ready-made for us, and magnanimously declared that if he had the wonderful lamp in his hands that minute, with full power to summon up the obedient genius, and set him to work, he would not do it. "I hope you would make him supply us with a few good axes, Johnny, at least," said Browne. But Johnny was disposed to be very self-denying and high-minded; he did not think he ought to do it; we should take a great deal more pleasure in our house if we made it ourselves, without any magical assistance of any kind. "Now, that you mention axes," said Morton, "it occurs to me that there is an old hatchet-head among the rubbish in the locker of the yawl, and though it is a good deal battered and worn, it could be fitted with a handle and made useful." We all now remembered having seen it, though no one had before thought of it. Arthur suggested that we should make an excursion to Palm-Islet as soon as the heat of the day was over, and the sea-breeze had set in, for the purpose of getting the hatchet, and bringing the boat round to the side of the island where we intended to fix our residence, as we might have occasion for its use. "We can get there before dark," said he, "and pass the night once more at our old quarters on the little island; then we can row back in the fresh of the morning, before sunrise, and be ready to commence our building in earnest." CHAPTER NINETEEN. THE CORAL REEF. JOHNNY AND THE CHAMA--AMATEUR PEARL-DIVING--A SHARK BLOCKADE--CULINARY GENIUS. "Down in the depths of the lonely sea, I work at my mystic masonry; I've crusted the plants of the deep with stone, And given them colouring not their own; And now o'er the ocean fields they spread Their fan-like branches of white and red: Oh! who can fashion a work like me, The mason of God, in the boundless sea." Late in the afternoon, when the slanting beams of the sun began to lose their fierceness, and the heat was tempered by the breeze setting in from the ocean, we descended to the beach, and set out for the eastern side of the island, in accordance with Arthur's suggestion, mentioned at the close of the last chapter. As we made our way across Sea-bird's Point, the clamorous cries of the gannets, raising their harsh voices to the highest pitch, in angry remonstrance against this invasion of their domain, were almost deafening. They might well be alarmed for the safety of their nests--or rather of their eggs, which they lay upon the bare ground, without any attempt at a nest--for they strewed the whole point so thickly that it was no easy matter to pick one's way without treading upon them at every alternate step. In nearly every tree were to be seen the rude nests of the frigate-bird, built of a few coarse sticks; and numbers of the birds themselves, with their singular blood-red pouches inflated to the utmost extent, were flying in from the sea. The large sooty tern, the graceful tropic bird, and the spruce, fierce-looking man-of-war's hawk, with his crimson bill, and black flashing eye, flew familiarly around us, frequently coming so near, that we could easily have knocked them down with our cutlasses, had we been inclined to abuse, so wantonly, the confidence which they seemed to repose in us. When half-way across the point, I came suddenly upon a magnificent male tropic bird, sitting in his nest behind a tussock of tall, reedy grass. He did not offer to quit his post, even when the others approached very near, and paused to admire him; being apparently engaged, in the absence of his mate, in attending to certain domestic duties, generally supposed to belong more appropriately to her. He was somewhat larger than a pigeon, and was a very beautiful bird, though not so brilliantly coloured as several other species of sea-fowl. His plumage, soft and lustrous as satin, was of a delicate pearly grey, except the long middle-feathers of the tail, which were of a pale red, and projected full a foot and a half beyond the rest. He manifested not the slightest fear, even when Johnny stooped and stroked his glossy coat. Just as we left the spot, the partner of this exemplary bird arrived, and hastened to relieve him from duty, giving him notice to quit, by two or three quick, impatient chirps, and a playful peck upon the head, whereupon he resigned his place, into which the other immediately settled, with a soft, complacent, cooing note, as expressive of perfect content as the purring of a well-fed tabby, stretched cosily upon the earth-rug before a cheerful winter evening fire. This transfer was effected so quickly, that Johnny was baffled in an ill-bred attempt which he made to pry into the domestic concerns of the affectionate pair, and he could not get even a transient glimpse of the contents of the nest. Without permitting ourselves to be tempted into any further deviation or delay, we kept steadily along the beach, until we arrived, a little before sunset, at the spot where the yawl lay, drawn up on the sand, opposite the islet. Max declared that after our long march, we ought to have a supper consisting of something more substantial than cocoa-nuts, and proposed that we should pull over to the reef, and procure some shell-fish, which proposition meeting with general approval, we got the boat into the water, and in five minutes reached the inside of the ledge, and landed upon it at a point about a quarter of a mile from the opening, through which we had first entered the lagoon. In this place, it was some fifteen or twenty yards in width, and consisted of a seamed and broken flat of dead coral, elevated but slightly above the level of the sea. Though there was no wind, and had been none during the day, the mighty billows of the open ocean came rolling in upon the outer edge of the reef with their accustomed violence. The action of the trade-winds is upon the whole so steady and uniform, that when it does cease for short periods, its effects continue, and upon the windward side of these coral-belted islands, there are breakers that never cease to rage, even in the calmest weather. No sight could be more grand and imposing, than that of these enormous waves encountering the reef. One of them would sometimes extend along it a mile, or a mile and a half, in an unbroken line. As it sweeps onward, with a slow and majestic movement towering up, like a dark-blue mountain, it seems as if nothing could resist its power, and you almost tremble lest the solid barrier upon which you stand should be hurled from its foundations. It meets the curving line of the reef with a tremendous concussion, and thus suddenly arrested by the parapet of coral, reared from the depths of the sea, it rises at once, throughout its entire length, to the height of twelve or fifteen feet perpendicularly, and stands for a moment as if congealed in its progress; then breaking with a hollow roar, it falls in a deluge of foam and spray, filling all the seams and crevices, and marking their course in lines of white upon the dark ground of the ledge. Not the least striking feature of the spectacle, was the multitude of fishes, of all shapes, colours, and sizes, that could be seen suspended in the face of this liquid wall, the very moment before it fell. How they escaped being thrown upon the reef seemed inexplicable, but they darted hither and thither at the very edge of the roller, with the greatest apparent ease and security, and almost invariably turned sea-ward just in time to save themselves. Occasionally, however, some careless or unskilful individual, not sufficiently versed in this perilous kind of navigation, suffered shipwreck, and was left gasping and floundering upon the coral. While thus engaged in watching the bursting of the waves upon the reef, I suddenly heard Johnny at a little distance calling out lustily for help, and hastening to the spot, I found him in one of the yawning crevices of the coral rock, up to his neck in water, and struggling violently to get out, in which he seemed to meet with opposition from some object in the hole. "Something has got me by the feet," he cried, as soon as he saw me; "it is an enormous oyster, or a shell-fish of some kind, and it pinches dreadfully." I looked down into the water, and saw what in fact, seemed to be a gigantic shell-fish, gripping both his legs: it retained its hold so tenaciously, that I found I could not extricate him, and when Arthur came up, as he did in a moment, it was as much as we could both do, to lift him and his singular captor, which still clung obstinately to him, out of the crevice. We were then obliged to pry open the shells with our cutlasses before we could release him. Arthur pronounced this extraordinary shell-fish, to be a specimen of the "Chama Gigas." The shells were nearly three feet in length, and curiously marked and clouded. Johnny had slipped from the slimy edge of the chasm, and happened to fall fairly into the expanded jaws of the chama, which, had instantly closed upon him. If the water had been deeper, the consequences might have been serious, as there are instances of persons being drowned, by having their feet caught in the vice-like grip of this formidable bivalve. Not far from the scene of Johnny's mishap, was a green spot upon the reef, where a group of young trees seemed to spring up out of the bare coral. On approaching the place, we found that a little island, about the size of Palm-islet was there in process of formation. Notwithstanding the exposed and barren character of the locality, and the scantiness of the soil, which was not anywhere a foot in depth. It was covered with a thrifty vegetation, among which were several well-grown-palms, a group of young casuarinas, and some ferns and tournefortias. Nor was this embryo islet destitute of inhabitants. The trees were at this hour filled with aquatic birds, and I observed among them one remarkable species, long-bodied, and slender, like swallows, with red bills and feet, white breast, and slate-coloured wings; these, instead of perching, like the rest of their feathered associates, upon the trees, nestled in the concavity of the long palm-leaves, far enough from the stem, to be rocked gently by the undulating motion of the leaf, which a breath of wind, or the slightest stirring of the birds in these swinging nets was sufficient to produce. But by far the most numerous and singular portion of the population of the islet, consisted of a species of large land-crab, inhabiting burrows hollowed out beneath the roots of the trees. Great numbers of them appeared to be bathing or sporting in the shallow water on the lagoon side of the islet, but, at sight of us, they scrambled off to their burrows with a degree of agility that could hardly have been expected from such clumsy-looking creatures. Owing partly to this unlooked-for rapidity of locomotion, and partly to a natural shyness and hesitation which we felt about handling them rashly, (their pincer-like jaws, with half a dozen pairs of which each individual seemed to be provided, having a rather formidable appearance), they escaped before we could capture even a specimen. Johnny forthwith posted himself in ambush among a bunch of fern, and riveting his eyes upon one of the burrows at the foot of a young cocoa-nut tree, waited impatiently for the crabs to venture forth once more. In a few moments a patriarchal-looking old fellow emerged cautiously from the hole, and was presently followed by several more. Johnny prudently delayed any hostile movement, until they should get far enough from their place of security to enable him to cut off their retreat; and, in the meantime, I was greatly amused and interested in observing the ingenious method, in which the patriarch commenced operating upon a cocoa-nut, which had fallen to the ground near his den. Managing his complicated apparatus of claws with surprising dexterity, he seized the nut, and stripped off the outer husk in a twinkling; then setting it upon one end, he began to hammer away at the orifices through which the stalk and root of the future tree make their way when the nut germinates. Having at length removed the filling up of these orifices, he inserted a claw, and actually split the strong inner shell, dividing it neatly into halves. At this stage of the proceedings, half a dozen greedy neighbours, who had been looking on, without offering a helping claw, shuffled nimbly forward to share the spoil, and it was curious to see how quickly they cleaned out the shell, leaving not a particle of the kernel. Johnny seized this as a favourable moment for a sally, and rushed forth cutlass in hand, having adopted the discreet resolution of disabling them, by lopping off those formidable claws, before coming to close quarters. The sally, however, was premature, and proved entirely unsuccessful, for the crabs backed and sidled into their burrows with such expedition, that the last of them disappeared before their assailant could get within reach. Leaving Johnny to renew his ambuscade, if so disposed, I proceeded along the reef, and found Max and Browne bathing for the second time that day. They had discovered a charming place for the purpose, where a kind of oval basin was formed by the lagoon setting into the inside of the reef. The water was deep and clear, so that there was no danger of wounding the feet by means of shells or corals. Max had discovered what he supposed to be an enormous pearl-oyster, attached to a wall of coral, at the depth of five or six fathoms, and they were diving for it alternately. Both succeeded in reaching it, but it adhered so firmly to the rock by its strong beard, that neither of the amateur pearl-divers could tear it off, and getting soon exhausted and out of breath, they abandoned the attempt. The submarine scenery of the lagoon was in this spot unusually varied and beautiful, and the basin formed a bath, fit for the Nereids themselves. Numbers of different kinds of shell-fish were attached to the coral branches, or wedged into their interstices. Others were feeding, and reflected the brightest colours with every motion. Purple mullet, variegated rock-fish, and small ray-fish, were darting about near the bottom. Another species of mullet, of a splendid changeable blue and green, seemed to be feeding upon the little polyps protruding from the coral tops. Shells, sea-plants, coral, and fishes, and the slightest movement of the latter, even to the vibration of a tiny fin! or the gentle opening of the gills in respiration, could be seen with perfect distinctness in this transparent medium. But what chiefly attracted attention, was the gay tints, and curious shapes, of the innumerable zoophytes, or "flower animals," springing up from the sides and bottom of the basin, and unfolding their living leaves above their limestone trunks or stems which encased them. Blue, red, pink, orange, purple, and green, were among the colours, and the variety of patterns seemed absolutely endless: they mimicked, in their manner of growth, the foliage of trees, the spreading antlers of the stag, globes, columns, stars, feathery plumes, trailing vines, and all the wildest and most graceful forms of terrestrial vegetation. Nothing was wanting to complete this submarine shrubbery, even to the minutest details; there were mosses, and ferns, and lichens, and spreading shrubs, and branching trees; bunches of slender thread-like stems, swaying gently with the motion of the water, might, (except for their pale, purplish, tint), pass for rushes, or tussocks of reedy grass; and it required no effort of the imagination to see fancifully shaped wild-flowers in the numerous varieties of actiniae, or sea anemones, many of which bore the closest resemblance to wood-pinks, asters, and carnations. The imitations of these flowers were in some cases wonderfully perfect, even to their delicate petals, which were represented by the slender, fringe-like tentacles of the living polyp, protruding from its cell. Besides these counterparts of land vegetation, there were waving sea-fans, solid masses of sponge-coral, clubs of Hercules, madrepores, like elegantly-formed vases filled with flowers, dome-like groups of astraeae, studded with green and purple spangles, and a thousand other shapes, so fantastic and peculiar, that they can be likened to no other objects in nature. Johnny having got tired of lying in wait for the crabs, came to watch the swimmers and search for shells. In the course of frequent beach excursions with Mr Frazer, he had picked up the names, and chief distinguishing characteristics of the principal genera of marine shells, in consequence of which he had at length come to regard himself as quite a conchologist, and was ambitious of making a "collection," like other naturalists, in which design Arthur encouraged and assisted him. Joining me, where I was lying upon a flat ledge, peering down into the basin, he presently espied a Triton's trumpet, more than a foot in length, in some five fathoms of water, and pointing it out to Max, he begged him to dive for it, earnestly assuring him that he had never seen so fine a specimen of the "Murex Tritonica." But the latter very decidedly declined sacrificing his breath in the cause of science, declaring that he had completely exhausted himself by his exertions in pearl-diving. Eiulo coming up at the moment with a number of shell-fish which he had obtained, Johnny appealed to him for aid, and not in vain, for as soon as the much-coveted shell was pointed out to him, he threw off his wrapper, and plunging into the water, almost instantly returned with it. Max now showed him the supposed pearl-oyster, and challenged him to make an attempt to bring it up. Eiulo laughed, and nodded his acceptance of the challenge: after pausing a moment to take breath, he dived perpendicularly downward, reaching the shell easily with a few strokes, and made one or two vigorous but ineffectual jerks at it; then, just as I thought him about to give it up, and ascend again, he grasped it with both hands, brought his feet under him, and bracing himself firmly against the wall of coral, he wrenched it off, and bore the prize in triumph to the surface. It proved to be a pearl-oyster, as Max had supposed, and on being opened was found to contain eleven seed-pearls. Eiulo presented the shell and its contents to Johnny, who seemed to value the former, quite as much as the latter, and presently ran off in search of Arthur, to inquire whether it should properly be classed with the "genus ostrea," or the "genus mytilus." After watching the swimmers a little longer, I strolled along the reef, in the direction which Johnny had taken in pursuit of Arthur, stopping occasionally to watch the bursting of a wave of uncommon magnitude, or to examine some of the interesting objects that were strewn with such profusion in every direction, and which rendered that barren ledge so choice a spot for the studies of the naturalist. Some ten or fifteen minutes had been thus employed, and it was beginning to grow dark, so that Arthur and Johnny, whom I had not yet overtaken, could be but just distinguished, like two specks in the distance, when I heard the powerful voice of Browne, raised in a loud and prolonged halloo. Pausing to listen, I soon heard the cry repeated, in a manner that showed as I thought, that something unusual had taken place. Hastening back, I found that Max and Browne had swum off to a coral knoll, in the lagoon, a stone's throw from the reef, and dared not venture back, being closely blockaded by a large fish swimming about near the spot, which they supposed to be a shark. They called loudly for me to come after them in the boat, and to lose no time about it, as there was water enough on the knoll, to enable a shark, if tolerably enterprising, to reach them where they stood. Though it was rapidly getting dark, there was still sufficient light to enable me to distinguish an enormous fish of some kind, cruising back and forth, with the regularity of a sentinel on duty, between the reef, and the shallow where Max and Browne were standing up to their knees in water. The case appeared to admit of no delay, and jumping into the boat, I pulled over to the coral patch with all possible speed, passing the fish close enough to see that it was in fact a large shark, and he proved also to be an exceedingly fierce and ravenous one. It almost seemed as though he understood my errand, for he followed, or rather attended me, closely, keeping so near the bow of the boat that it was with great difficulty and some danger, that I at length got the blockaded swimmers aboard. When this was effected, his disappointment and consequent bad temper were quite apparent; he swam round and round the boat in the most disturbed and agitated manner as we returned, making a variety of savage demonstrations, and finally going so far as to snap spitefully at the oars, which he did not discontinue, until Browne had two or three times rapped him smartly over the nose. After landing in safety, Max pelted him with shells and pieces of coral rock, until he finally swam off. Meantime, Arthur and Johnny had returned from their wandering along the reef; the latter had come across another colony of crabs, and had succeeded in capturing three of them, or rather two and a half, for having, as he fondly imagined, disabled one enormous fellow by hacking him in two with his cutlass, the one half had scrambled into the hole, while Johnny was securing the other. We now placed the chama shells, the crabs, and other shell-fish, together with Johnny's specimens, to which he had added a splendid madrepore vase, in the boat, and as soon as the swimmers were dressed, we pulled over to Palm-islet. Here we arranged a tent in the same manner as we had done on the memorable night when we first reached these shores. Max then kindled a fire, and prepared to cook our supper. The shell-fish were easily managed by placing them upon the embers, but the crabs, which it was necessary to boil, and which were of the size of small lobsters, presented a more difficult case. Max's culinary genius, however, stimulated by a keen appetite, eventually triumphed over every obstacle. He procured a number of stones, which he heated in the fire; then filling one of the deep and rounded chama shells with water, he proceeded to drop the heated stones into it, using a couple of sticks as a pair of tongs. This process he continued until the water boiled, when he remorselessly plunged the unhappy crabs therein, and from time to time dropped in more of the heated stones, until the cookery was complete. CHAPTER TWENTY. ARTHUR'S STORY. BROWNE ON "THE KNIGHTLY CHARACTER"--ROKOA--THE CANNIBAL ISLAND OF ANGATAN. "This is no Grecian fable of fountains running wine, Of hags with snaky tresses, and sailors turned to swine: On yonder teeming island, under the noon day sun, In sight of many people, these strange, dark deeds were done." Having made a hearty and satisfactory supper, and concluded the meal with a draught of cocoa-nut milk, we sat down, like the patriarchs of old, "in the door of our tent" facing the sea, to enjoy the freshness of the evening breeze. Johnny, after having settled it to his own entire satisfaction, that the shell in which his pearls had been found, was properly a mussel, and not an oyster; and having also, by Arthur's help, resolved his doubts and difficulties, touching divers other knotty points in conchology; successively raised and canvassed the grave and edifying questions-- whether there actually were such creatures as mermaids?--whether sea-serpents were indigenous to the neighbourhood of Cape Cod and Massachusetts Bay?--whether the narratives of ancient and modern voyagers, in regard to Krakens, and gigantic Polypes, with feelers or arms as long as a ship's main-mast, had any foundation in fact or were to be looked upon as sheer fabrications?--and, finally, whether the hideous and revolting practice of cannibalism, really prevailed among the inhabitants of certain groups of islands in the Pacific? "This puts me in mind, Arthur," said Johnny, suddenly, while the last-mentioned subject was under discussion, "of a promise you made during the voyage, to tell me a story about a cannibal island upon which you were once cast, and the adventures you met with there. This is a good time to tell it: it is quite early, and the night so beautiful, that it would be a shame to think of going to bed for two or three hours yet; for my part, I feel as though I could sit here all night without getting sleepy." "A happy thought, Johnny," said Browne, "it will be the pleasantest possible way of passing the evening; therefore, Arthur, let us have the story." "O yes, the story! let us have the cannibal story by all means!" cried Max, "this is just the hour, and the place, to tell it with effect. The dash of the surf upon the reef; the whispering of the night wind in the tree-tops; the tall black groves on the shore yonder, and the water lying blacker still in their shadow, will all harmonise admirably with the subject." "I believe I did promise Johnny an account of an unintentional visit I once made to a place known as `the Cannibal Island of Angatan,' and I have no objection to redeem my pledge now, if desired. I wish you to take notice, however, at the outset, in order to avoid raising false expectations, that I do not promise you a `Cannibal Story'--how much my narrative deserves such a title, will appear when you have heard it." The call for the story being quite eager and unanimous, Arthur settled himself into a comfortable position, and after giving one or two of those preliminary ahems, common to the whole fraternity of story-tellers from time immemorial, he proceeded as follows:-- ARTHUR'S STORY OF THE CANNIBAL ISLAND OF ANGATAN. "About a year and a half ago, and just before the time when I was to sail for the United States to complete my preparation for the seminary, I was induced to embark upon a voyage to the Palliser Islands, planned by a young chief of Eimeo, named Rokoa, and a Mr Barton, an American trader residing at the island. The object of the young chief in this expedition, was to ascertain the fate of an elder brother, who had sailed for Anaa, or Chain island, several months before, with the intention of returning immediately, but who had never since been heard from: that of Mr Barton, was to engage a number of Hao-divers, for a pearl-fishing voyage, contemplated by him in connection with another foreign trader. He did not himself embark with us; but his son, a young man, two or three years my senior, accompanied us instead, to make the necessary arrangements for engaging the divers, and also to purchase any mother-of-pearl, pearls, and tortoise-shell, which the natives might have to dispose of, at such places as we should visit. With a view to the latter purpose, he was provided with a supply of trinkets and cheap goods of various kinds, such as are used in this species of traffic. At the Society Islands, the natives had learned the fair value of their commodities, and would no longer exchange even their yams, bread-fruit, and cocoa-nuts, for beads, spangles, and fragments of looking-glasses; but among the smaller groups, lying farther to the eastward, where the intercourse with Europeans was comparatively infrequent, these, and similar articles, were still in great demand, the simple islanders readily giving rich shells, and valuable pearls, in barter for them. I accompanied the expedition, at the request of Rokoa, and with scarcely any other object than to gratify him; though I was made the bearer of letters, and some trifling presents to a Tahitian native missionary, who had recently gone to Hao, to labour there. I had long known both Rokoa and his brother, now supposed to be lost. The former was a remarkable and interesting character. He had accompanied my uncle and myself on a voyage to Hawaii, and visited with us the great volcano of Kilauea, on that island, said to be by far the grandest and most wonderful in the world, not excepting Vesuvius itself. In making the descent into the crater, and while endeavouring to reach what is called the Black Ledge, he saved my life at the imminent hazard of his own. It was upon that voyage, that I first became acquainted with him. We afterwards travelled together, through the most wild and inaccessible parts of the interior of Tahiti and Eimeo; and in the course of this intimacy, I discovered much in him to esteem and admire. There was in his character, such a union of gentleness and courage, such childlike openness of disposition, and such romantic fidelity to what he considered the obligations of friendship, as reminds me of young Edmund, in Johnny's favourite story of Asiauga's Knight. With a chivalrous daring, that could face the most appalling danger without a tremor, was united an almost feminine delicacy of character, truly remarkable in a savage." "That," said Browne, "is the true ideal of the knightly character-- courage, which nothing can daunt, but without roughness or ferocity even in the hour of mortal combat. The valour of the knight is a high sentiment of honour, devotion, loyalty; it is calm, gentle, beautiful, and is thus distinguished from the mere animal courage of the ruffian, which is brutal, fierce, and cruel." "I think I shall like Rokoa," said Johnny, rubbing his hands together in token of satisfaction, "and I guess this is going to be an interesting story; there will be some fighting in it, I expect." "Of course, there will be plenty of fighting," said Max, "or else what is the meaning of this preliminary flourish of trumpets, about Rokoa's chivalrous courage, and all that?" "I once more give fair and timely notice, in order to prevent disappointment, that I am merely relating a sober narrative of facts, and not improvising one of Max's florid romances about Sooloo pirates, Spanish bandits, Italian bravos, or the robbers of the Hartz mountains." "Or enchanted castles, captive princesses, valiant knights, fire-breathing dragons, and diabolical old magicians," added Browne, "which formed the staple of a highly edifying tale with which I overheard him entertaining Johnny the other afternoon at Castle-hill, as we were taking our siesta in the shade." "And a capital story it was, too," said Johnny, "but go on, Arthur, please." "Well, every thing being arranged for our voyage, we set sail in a large `Vaa Motu,' or single canoe, furnished with a great outrigger, and manned by a crew of nine natives. Our cargo consisted of Barton's stock of goods for trading with the islanders, and a quantity of stained tappa, fine mats, shark's teeth, etcetera, which Rokoa had laid in for purposes of his own. "The commencement of the voyage was pleasant and auspicious. We set out in the morning, with a fine westerly breeze, which is of rare occurrence in that latitude, and early in the afternoon we passed the high island of Meetia, just in sight to the southward, showing that we had made at least seventy miles, in about nine hours. The wind continued steady and fair, and the next day at sunset, we reached Anaa. Here we remained only long enough to enable Rokoa to obtain all the information to be had, that promised to throw any light upon the fate of his brother. All that could be learned was, that a canoe from Tahiti had touched here several months since, and after obtaining a supply of water, had immediately sailed for Motutunga, or Adventure Island, but from the description given us of the canoe, and of the number and appearance of her company, there was little reason to believe that this was the party with which Rokoa's brother had embarked. Barton being anxious to improve the favourable breeze, which still continued to blow with unwonted steadiness from such a quarter, we resumed our voyage, and steered eastward for Hao, on the day after our arrival at Anaa. "That night the weather suddenly changed, and a storm arose, the wind blowing strongly from the south-west. Our crew became alarmed, and a part of them began to clamour to return to Anaa, which we might have done, by three or four hours' incessant paddling, in the teeth of the gale. Rokoa, however, believed that the weather would change again in the morning, and determined to continue on our course; we accordingly ran before the wind, with barely sufficient sail to keep the canoe steady, and enable us to steer her. The storm continued without intermission or abatement for the next twenty-four hours, contrary to Rokoa's prediction; and to avoid the danger of being swamped, we were obliged still to keep running before it. The second night, at sunset, the wind fell, and in the morning, the sea had become tolerably smooth, with only a moderate breeze blowing. But though the gale had ceased, the weather was still thick, and the sky so obscured by clouds that we could not see the sun, or even fix upon the quarter of the heavens in which he stood. Thus, those means upon which the natives are wont to rely for directing their course upon their long voyages, wholly failed us. The canoe was furnished with a small ship's compass, a present to Rokoa from the missionaries, but this had been broken, by one of our crew being thrown violently upon it during the storm, while Barton was consulting it. We did not get even a glimpse of the sun all that day; nor the next, until late in the afternoon, when it cleared beautifully, and for the first time since the loss of the compass, we were able to distinguish north from south, and east from west. We found that we had got completely `turned round,' as the phrase is, and were heading due north; and we now put about, and steered in what we supposed to be the right direction. At dawn the next day, we were surprised to find ourselves in sight of a strange island, which none of us remembered having seen before. A remarkable looking black rock, resembling the hull of a large man-of-war, rose abruptly from the water about half a mile from the shore. "Rokoa, who had sailed a great deal among the islands east of Tahiti, and had visited most of them, could form no conjecture in regard to the one now in sight. Presently some of our crew began to whisper mysteriously together, and the word was passed from one to another, that this was no other than the ill-famed island of Angatan. I knew that an island of that name, the subject of a thousand bug-bear stories, to which I had often incredulously listened, was said to lie somewhere to the north of Hao; but I had never met with any one who could give me any definite and satisfactory information respecting it. "According to general report, its inhabitants were cannibals, and were in the habit of murdering and devouring all who were so unfortunate as to be cast upon their shores, or who had the hardihood or temerity voluntarily to land upon them. It was also said, that the island had never been visited by white men; and, owing to the popular belief in regard to the ferocious and warlike character of its people, it is certain that the natives of the neighbouring groups could not, as a general thing, be induced by any consideration to engage in a voyage having this reputed cannibal island for its destination; voyages of this kind having been sometimes contemplated, but never to my knowledge actually undertaken. "Among the other marvellous reports concerning Angatan, was one, to the effect that its inhabitants were possessed of immense hoards of pearls and shell, of the value of which they were utterly ignorant. "One of our crew, a garrulous Hao-man, and an inveterate boaster, declared that, about a year since, he had embarked for Angatan with a party of Chain Islanders, in a large double canoe, being tempted to incur the perils of the enterprise, by the prospect of the enormous gains that might be realised in trading with the natives, if a friendly intercourse could once be opened with them. They had succeeded in reaching the island; but scarcely had they set foot upon the shore, when they were attacked by a party of the inhabitants, who issued suddenly from the forest, and, disregarding all their friendly signs and gestures, fell upon them, and killed the greater part of their number, the rest making their escape with difficulty, and solely through the courage, presence of mind, and extraordinary exertions of the narrator, without which they must all infallibly have perished. He described the islanders as fierce, wild-looking men, of gigantic stature, armed with long spears, and heavy clubs set with sharks' teeth, and wearing little or no clothing; yet, strange to tell, around the necks of these almost naked savages were strings of the richest pearls, instead of the common ornaments of ovula-shells. "Our veracious Hao-man, most solemnly asseverated the entire and literal truth of all these particulars, and declared that the island before us was the veritable cannibal Angatan, the singular black rock enabling him, as he said, to identify it beyond all doubt. To this story I was myself disposed to accord about the same degree of credit as to the adventures of Sinbad the Sailor; but it was easy to perceive that our crew, far from being so sceptical, were firm and unhesitating believers in Angatan, its man-eating giants, its treasures of pearl, and the whole catalogue of marvels current respecting it. "I was the less inclined to repose any confidence in the man's declarations, because all the best accounts located Angatan far to the north of Hao and Amanu, while we had reason to believe that we were now to the south-west of them. "Barton's curiosity and love of adventure, were stimulated by what he had heard; perhaps, also, the hints which had been dropped respecting rich shell and costly pearls, were not without their due share of influence, and he declared himself desirous of taking a closer look at this `terra incognita,' respecting which such marvellous tales were current. Rokoa, too, no sooner heard the first whispered conjecture of the identity of the place before us with Angatan, than he resolved to land, notwithstanding the evident reluctance of the crew, and the open remonstrances and warnings of Sinbad. I suspected, I scarcely know why, that he cherished a vague hope of being able to gain here some clue to the fate of his missing brother. On approaching the shore, we found that a heavy surf broke upon it, but there was a good beach, and a landing could be effected without much difficulty. We accordingly took in our sail, and resorting to the paddles, made for what seemed to be a favourable spot. Soon after passing the black rock before alluded to, I observed several figures stealing along the shore, in the covert of a row of mangrove bushes, and apparently watching our movements. When we had reached the edge of the surf, and were preparing to dash through it, they came out of the thicket, and with threatening gestures warned us away. This created such a panic among our crew, that they could not be prevailed upon to paddle nearer. Rokoa stood up in the bow, and made such signs and gestures as are used to indicate peaceful and friendly intentions, while Barton displayed some of his most attractive-looking trinkets. The people on shore now seemed to confer together, and in a few moments, one of their number, who, from his stained tiputa of yellow and crimson, appeared to be a chief or person of consequence, came down to the water's edge, waving a green bough, and beckoning us to land. Our Sinbad pronounced this sudden apparent change in their disposition towards us, to be a treacherous pretence, designed to lure us ashore, in order that they might plunder, kill, and devour us; but, as he did not explain why, if such was their object, they should in the first place have menaced us as they had done, we gave little heed to his warnings. The party of natives did not seem greatly to outnumber us, and were not particularly formidable in their appearance. They were, as well as we could judge at such a distance, of no more than the ordinary stature. With the exception of the individual already referred to, in the gay tiputa, they wore nothing but the maro, and were armed with long spears. Nevertheless, our crew still refused to make any nearer approach, suspecting that more of the natives were lurking among the mangrove; ready to sally out upon us at the proper moment if we should venture to land. "Rokoa, finding all attempts to overcome the cowardice of our men unavailing, took a few trinkets in his hand, and springing overboard, swam through the surf to the shore. The personage in the tiputa waited to receive him, continuing to wave the green branch, and to make amicable signs. Rokoa advanced, and greeted him in the Tahitian fashion, by rubbing faces. The two then walked together to the skirts of the wood, where the others still kept themselves, and Rokoa after distributing his trinkets, came down to the beach again, and beckoned us to come ashore, supposing that our crew might by this time be so far reassured as to venture it. Sinbad was about to remonstrate again, when Barton drew a pocket-pistol, with a pair of which he was provided, and threatened to shoot him, unless he kept quiet. This effectually silenced the croakings of the Hao-man, for the time at least and we finally induced some of the others to take to the paddles, and push through the surf to the spot where Rokoa awaited us. As soon as the canoe was beached, and we were all fairly ashore, the natives came forward, somewhat hastily, from the skirt of the wood, probably in the expectation of receiving further presents; but our men, mistaking this sudden advance for a hostile movement, laid hold of the canoe, and would have put her into the water again, had not Rokoa, armed with a heavy paddle, and backed by Barton with his pistols, interfered with so much decision and vigour, that their fears began to take a new direction and they came to the sensible conclusion, that they had better run the risk of being roasted and eaten by the cannibals, than encounter the far more immediate danger of having their heads broken by the club of their chief, or their bodies bored through by the pistol-balls of the young Papalangi. "On the other hand, the leader of the party of natives spoke to them, and restrained their impatience; then, advancing before the rest, he waved his hand, and throwing himself into an oratorical attitude, made a little speech, thanking Rokoa for his gifts, and welcoming us to the island. The language which he spoke was a dialect of the Tahitian, differing from it so slightly that I had no difficulty in understanding what he said. "When he had finished, Rokoa made an appropriate reply, according to the rules of Polynesian etiquette. He commenced by paying our gaudily-attired friend some florid compliments. He then gave a graphic account of our voyage, describing the storm which we had encountered in such terms, that our escape must have seemed little short of a miracle; and concluded by stating the manner in which we had been driven from our course, and finally reached the island. The natives listened attentively, and signified their sense of Rokoa's eloquence by frequent exclamations of `Maitai! Maitai!' (good! good!) and by nodding their heads emphatically at the end of every sentence." CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. THE CANNIBAL VILLAGE. THE MARAE AND THE PRIEST--MOWNO AT HOME--CANNIBAL YOUNG LADIES--OLLA AND HER FRIENDS. "And there, with awful rites, the hoary priest, Beside that moss-grown heathen altar stood, His dusky form in magic cincture dressed, And made the offering to his hideous god." "So then," said Browne, interrupting Arthur's narrative, "these two parties of savages, instead of going to work, knocking each others' brains out, as one might naturally have expected, actually commenced entertaining one another with set speeches, very much like the mayor and aldermen of a city corporation receiving a deputation of visitors!" "There is," replied Arthur, "an almost childish fondness of form and ceremony among all the Polynesian tribes, as is seen at their high feasts and festivals, their games, and religious rites. The chiefs and priests are in the habit of making little orations upon a variety of occasions, when this is expected of them. Formerly there existed in the Society Islands, a class of persons called Rautis, or orators of battle, whose exclusive business it was to exhort the people in time of war, and on the eve of an engagement. Even during the heat of conflict they mingled with the combatants, and strove to animate and inflame their courage, by recounting the exploits of their ancestors, and urging every motive calculated to excite desperate valour and contempt of death. Some very remarkable instances of the powerful effect produced by the eloquence of these Rautis are recorded, showing that they constituted a by no means useless or ineffective part of a native army. The islanders almost universally have a taste for oratory, by which they are easily affected; and they hold those who excel in it in high estimation." "It would appear then," said Browne, "that they are not such utter heathens after all; I should never have given them credit for so much taste and sensibility." "You see, Browne," said Max, "what advantages you will enjoy over the rest of us, when we get to Eiulo's island, as Johnny is confident we are destined to do, one of these days. You shall then astonish the simple inhabitants, with Pitt's reply to Walpole, or `Now is the winter of our discontent,' and gain advancement in the state, by your oratorical gifts. Who knows but you may rise to be prime-minister, or chief Rauti, to his majesty the king!" "Pray, let Arthur proceed with his story," said Morton, laughing, "I see that Johnny is beginning to grow impatient: he probably thinks it high time for the cannibals to be introduced, and the fighting to commence." "Well," resumed Arthur, "as soon as the speech-making was over, the natives, who seemed thus far, quite friendly and inoffensive, came forward once more, and we all went through the ceremony of rubbing faces, with a great show of cordiality, though it was easy to perceive that our party were still under the influence of secret fears and misgivings. "Barton and I, received more than our due proportion of these civilities, and from the wondering exclamations of our new acquaintances as they examined the articles which composed our dress, and their remarks to one another upon our complexion, I inferred that some of them at least, had never seen a white person before. Barton, in particular, attracted a large share of their attention, owing probably to a complexion rather florid, and uncommonly fair, notwithstanding a two years' residence within the tropics, which, together with his light hair and blue eyes, afforded a striking contrast to the tawny skins and long black elf-locks of the natives. "The chief of the party, who had acted as spokesman, was called Mowno. He was a young man, with a handsome, boyish face, expressive of good-nature and indolence. Rokoa walked apart with him to make inquiries, as I had no doubt, connected with the subject of his brother's fate. Meanwhile Barton produced a piece of tortoise-shell, and some pearls, which he exhibited to the natives, asking whether they had any articles of the kind; but after carelessly looking at them, they shook their heads, and inquired what such things were good for; whereupon Barton, casting an annihilating glance at the disconcerted Sinbad, significantly demanded of him what had become of those necklaces of pearls, worn by the natives of Angatan, and whether these simple, inoffensive people, were the gigantic cannibals, about whom he had manufactured such enormous lies. "After Mowno had concluded his conference with Rokoa, he led us to a large building near the beach, in a very ruinous and decayed state, and completely over-shadowed by aged tamanu-trees. It seemed, from its size and peculiar structure, to be a deserted marae, or native temple. He then sent away two of his people, who soon returned with several clusters of cocoa-nuts, and some bananas, for our refreshment. On learning that the supply of water which we had taken in for our voyage, was nearly exhausted, he informed us that there was no spring or stream, nearer than his village, which was some two miles inland, and promised to have a supply sent us during the day. They had come down to the shore, as we now learned, for the purpose of cutting mangrove roots, from which they make large and powerful bows, and the whole party soon left us at the marae, and proceeded to the beach; in about an hour we saw them depart inland, carrying fagots of these roots, without taking any further notice of us. "It had fallen calm soon after sunrise, so that we could not for the present have resumed our voyage, had we been so inclined. "About half an hour before noon, a number of the natives whom we had seen in the morning, again made their appearance, with several large calabashes of water, and a quantity of taro and bread-fruit for our use. Rokoa distributed among them some trifling presents, which they hastily concealed among the folds of their maros. A few moments afterwards Mowno himself emerged from the grove, attended by the remainder of the party we had seen in the morning. There was now a further distribution of presents, when I perceived the reason why the first comers had so hastily concealed the trifles which had been given them. All presents, no matter on whom bestowed, seemed to be regarded as the especial perquisites of the chief, and a youth, who acted as Mowno's personal attendant, presently went round among the others, collecting and taking possession of everything which he had seen them receive. This was submitted to without remonstrance, and apparently as a matter of course, though by no means cheerfully. "Soon after this somewhat autocratic proceeding, Mowno turned abruptly to Barton, and saying that he must now return to the village, invited him to go with him to visit it. Barton appearing to hesitate, the chief pressed the matter so earnestly that his suspicions were aroused, and he peremptorily declined. Mowno's angry looks evinced his displeasure, and after walking about for a quarter of an hour in sullen silence, with very much the demeanour of a spoiled child thwarted in his whim, he at length made a similar request of me, letting drop at the same time, some expression to the effect that one of us _must_ go with him. Fortunately Rokoa, whose high spirit would have taken instant offence at the least semblance of a threat, did not hear this. I saw plainly, that for some reason, the young chief had set his heart upon having either Barton or myself visit his village, and I suspected this was, in fact, the sole object of his return. I observed, also, that his party was somewhat more numerous, and much better armed than it had been in the morning, and I had no doubt that, rather than suffer himself to be baffled in his purpose, he would resort to force to accomplish it. "After a moment's reflection, I was pretty well satisfied that I had nothing to fear from acceding to his request, believing, as I did, that I understood the motive of it. I thought, too, that a refusal would in all probability lead to an instant hostile collision between the natives and ourselves, and I finally resolved to accept, or more accurately speaking, to yield to, the invitation. Having come to this conclusion, I told Mowno that I would go with him, upon the condition that I should return before night, to which he readily assented, showing extreme satisfaction at having finally succeeded in his wishes. I gave no credit to the alleged cannibal propensities of the islanders, and was inclined from what I had already seen, to think much more favourably of them than the event justified. I supposed that the curiosity of the people of the village had been excited by the reports of those who had seen us in the morning, respecting the pale-faced strangers, and that Mowno's only object in insisting as he did, on having Barton or myself go with him, was to gratify some aged chief who was too infirm to come down to the shore to see us, or did not want to take the trouble of doing so." "Well, was you right in your conjecture?" inquired Browne. "Yes, partially at least; there was, I think, no unfriendly motive as far as Mowno was concerned. What designs others of the natives may have entertained I will not at present undertake to say. But instead of some superannuated chief, it was the curiosity of Mowno's young wife that was to be gratified. On hearing his account of the white strangers, she had despatched him forthwith back to the shore, to bring them to the village; which commission, it seemed, he was resolved faithfully to execute, at every hazard." "Really," said Browne, "civilisation must have made some considerable progress in Angatan, if the savages there make such docile and complaisant husbands." "This was not an ordinary case," replied Arthur; "in the first place, Mowno was an uncommonly good-natured sort of a savage; then he had a very pretty, persuasive little wife, and he had not yet been long enough married, to have entirely merged the zeal and devotion of the lover, in the easy indifference, and staid authority of the husband; but this is anticipating. "When I informed Rokoa of the young chief's invitation, and my acceptance of it, he refused to consent to my going, except upon the condition that he should accompany me, and share whatever danger might attend the step. Mowno acquiesced in this arrangement, though I thought he didn't seem to be altogether pleased with it. Barton, also, on learning that Rokoa and myself had concluded to go to the village, resolved to accompany us. Mowno was impatient to have us set out at once, and Rokoa having given some directions to the crew, as to their conduct during our absence, we hastily made our preparations, and in a few moments after the matter had been decided upon, the whole party left the shore and entered the forest. A quarter of an hour's walk brought us to a flourishing bread-fruit plantation, which we passed through without seeing a single dwelling, or any indications of inhabitants. This was bounded by a wild ravine, crossing which, we entered a dense and gloomy grove, composed almost entirely of the sacred miro, and one other kind of tree, the branches of which sprang horizontally from the trunk, in a series of whorls, one above another, twisting round from left to right, and clothed with broad leaves of so dark a green as to seem almost black. Near the centre of this grove, we came suddenly upon a large marae, built principally of loose stones, overgrown with moss and lichens. It was a spacious, uncovered inclosure, the front of which consisted of a strong bamboo fence, while the three remaining sides were of stone. Within the inclosure, at one side, was a small building, probably the priest's dwelling, and in the centre arose a solid pyramidal structure, on the terraced sides of which were ranged the misshapen figures of several gigantic idols. In front of this, and between four rude tumuli of broken coral, was a low platform, supported by stakes, and resembling the altars used for human sacrifices, during the ancient reign of heathenism in Tahiti. Beneath this platform, or altar, was a pile of human skulls; and suspended from the trees, were the shells of enormous turtles, and the skeletons of fishes. A hideous-looking old man, whom I supposed to be the priest, sat in the door of the small building, within the inclosure, and looking intently at me, made strange faces as we passed by. His skin was sallow, and singularly speckled, probably from some cutaneous disease; he had no eyebrows, and his eyes were small and glittering like those of a snake; in his countenance there was a mingled expression of cunning and cruelty that made me shudder. When we were nearest to him in passing, he struck himself violently on the breast, and cried out in a strong but dissonant voice, pointing with his long, skeleton fingers, towards the young chief:--`Mowno, son of Maloa, rob not the servant of Oro of a priest's share!' so at least, I understood the words which he uttered; but the natives hurried on, without seeming to pay any attention to him." "That would have frightened me mortally," interrupted Johnny. "I should have thought that they were going to make a cannibal feast of me, and that the wicked old priest was speaking for his share." "Well, I confess that some notion of the sort flashed across my mind for a moment. The dark grove, the great idolatrous looking marae, with its heathen altar, and monstrous images; the pile of skulls; the hideous old man and his strange words; all tended to suggest vague but startling suspicions. But another glance at the open and friendly countenances of our guides reassured me. In answer to a question in regard to the building which we had just passed, Mowno said, with a natural and indifferent air, that it was the house of Oro, where a great solemnity was soon to be celebrated; and although I did not allude to the skulls, he added that they were a part of the remains of the priests, who had been buried within the inclosure, and which were now, in accordance with an established custom, placed beneath the altar. The dark wood was bounded by a charming valley, with a brook running through it, and I was glad to escape from its gloomy shade, into the cheerful light. We forded the shallow stream, which was so clear that every pebble in its gravelly bed was visible, and found ourselves at the foot of a long, green slope. Before us, lying partly in the valley, and straggling half-way up the ascent, was a pretty village. The neat and light-built native dwellings dotted the side of the slope, or peeped out from among embowering trees along the banks of the brook, in the most picturesque manner. The thatching of the cottages, bleached to an almost snowy-whiteness, offered a pleasing contrast to the surrounding verdure. Troops of children were pursuing their sports in every direction. Some were wading in the stream, sailing tiny boats, or actively spattering one another with water, a recreation which they could enjoy without any fear of that damage to clothing, which would have rendered it objectionable in more highly civilised communities. Others again, (many of them scarcely old enough to walk, as one would suppose), were swimming about in the deeper places, like amphibious creatures. Some were swinging on ropes of sennit, suspended from the branches of the trees, and a few were quietly sitting in the shade, making bouquets and wreaths of wild-flowers. Among them all, there was not a single deformed or sickly-looking child. I did not observe any grown persons, most of them probably being at that hour asleep in their houses. In passing through the village, our escort closed around us in such a manner as to screen us from observation, and we reached the top of the slope without seeming to have attracted notice. Here Mowno dismissed all his attendants except two, and we then struck into a fine avenue of well-grown trees, running along the crest of the hill, and leading to a large native house, of oval form, prettily situated upon a green knoll, and over-shadowed by wide-branching bread-fruit trees. This, Mowno informed us, was his dwelling. At a short distance from the house, beneath a fan-palm, was a group of young girls, so entirely absorbed in the congenial task of arranging one another's abundant tresses, and adorning themselves with flowers, that they did not observe our approach. Mowno seemed intent upon some playful surprise, and laughing softly to himself like a pleased child, he motioned us to hide ourselves in a thicket of young casuarinas. From our ambush he pointed out to us one of the group beneath the palm, having several white buds of the fragrant gardenia in her hair, and a garland of the rosa cinensis about her neck; when satisfied that he had drawn our attention to the right person, he gave us to understand, with an air of great complacency, that she was `Olla,' his wife. While thus engaged, we were suddenly discovered, being betrayed by Mowno's gaudy tiputa, seen through the foliage by the quick eye of his better half, who immediately sprang up with a clear, ringing laugh, scattering a lapful of flowers upon the ground, and came running like a fawn towards him; the rest of us still keeping concealed. She was very pretty, graceful as a bird in every movement, and had a singularly pleasing expression of countenance. "On witnessing the greeting which she bestowed upon Mowno, Barton whispered me that he ought to consider himself a happy savage, and to do him justice, he seemed to be of the same opinion himself. She commenced talking at once, with wonderful vivacity, pouring forth a continuous torrent of words, with little gushes of laughter interspersed here and there by way of punctuation, and making no longer or more frequent pauses than were absolutely necessary for the purpose of taking breath. Notwithstanding her amazing volubility, I could understand enough of what she said, to perceive that she was inquiring after `the pale-faced youths,' and presently she appeared to be scolding her husband in a pretty lively strain, for having failed to bring them with him according to his promise. It was amusing to witness Mowno's ludicrous struggles to look grave, while he made feigned excuses, and explanations of our absence. His demeanour resembled more that of a boy, whose head has been turned by becoming, for the first time, the actual and uncontrolled owner of a watch, or a fowling-piece, than of a stern warrior, or savage chief. He could not, with all his efforts, maintain sufficient gravity and self-possession, to carry out the jest, poor as it was, which he had undertaken; but kept glancing towards our hiding-place, and finally, burst into a boisterous explosion of laughter; when Olla, peeping into the thicket, caught sight of us, and instantly darted away with a pretty half-scream, and rejoined her companions. Mowno now beckoned us forth, and we approached the group, whereupon they made a show of scampering off into the grove, but apparently thought better of it, and concluded to stand their ground. At first, they seemed actually afraid of Barton and myself, peeping cautiously at us over one another's shoulders from a safe distance. Presently, one, more enterprising than the rest, ventured so far as to reach out her hand, and touch Barton on the cheek, when, finding that no disastrous consequences immediately followed this act of temerity, they gradually laid aside their apprehensions, and pressing around us, soon became sufficiently familiar to try a variety of highly original and interesting experiments upon our complexion and clothing. These, though somewhat annoying, were accompanied by questions and observations so irresistibly ludicrous, that we soon found it entirely out of the question to preserve any sort of gravity, and as the whole troop always joined in our laughter without stopping to understand its cause, or instantly led off of themselves, upon the slightest provocation, the woods resounded with peals of merriment. "One of these damsels, after examining Barton's fair skin, and flowing yellow locks, gravely communicated to a companion, her conviction that we had come from the moon. A second stoutly maintained our earthly origin, and attributed our paleness to the influence of some strange sickness; while a third, being of a sceptical and suspicious turn of mind, suddenly seized Barton by the wrist and spitting upon the skirt of her pareu, commenced scrubbing his hand with great vigour, to see whether the colours were fast. Our tight-fitting garments; too, seemed to puzzle them exceedingly, and we were listeners to an animated debate, upon the question whether they were a natural or an artificial covering; the young lady who upheld the theory of our lunar origin, inclining strongly to the opinion, that like the feathery coat of birds, our clothing was a part of ourselves. But the sagacity and penetration of the one who had endeavoured to wash the paint from Barton's hand, soon enabled her to discover the unsoundness of this doctrine, and, in order the more triumphantly to refute it, she insisted upon pulling off my jacket, and trying it on herself. Finding that nothing less would satisfy her, I resigned the garment, when having succeeded, with some assistance, in getting into it, and buttoning it up as far as was practicable, she snatched Barton's cap to complete her costume, and commenced parading up and down the avenue, the admiration and envy of her companions. I fully expected that Barton's coat would next be put in requisition, and he whispered me that he stood in momentary dread, lest the now awakened spirit of investigation and experiment, should prompt our new friends to still more embarrassing extremes. "This, however, proved to be a groundless apprehension, for their curiosity was presently diverted into a new channel by Olla, who suddenly demanded to know my name. I accordingly repeated it, and she endeavoured several times to pronounce it after me, but without success. The `th' seemed to constitute an insuperable difficulty, which, however, she finally evaded, by softening `Arthur' into `Artua,' and this, singularly enough, was what Rokoa had always been in the habit of calling me. He and Barton were now called upon for their names, and in return, we were favoured with the liquid and vowelly appellatives, by which our ingenuous and communicative acquaintances were respectively designated. Barton assumed the alias of Tom, which was straightway metamorphosed into `Tomma.' "While this exchange of names was going on, an old woman came from the house, and delivered some message to Olla, which from the repetition of the words `poe, poe,' I conjectured to be a summons to dinner. Mowno leading the way, we now proceeded towards the dwelling. It was surrounded by a strong, but neat hedge of the ti-plant some three and a half feet high, with an ingeniously contrived wicker gate opposite the door. A path strewn with marine shells, and fragments of white coral, led from the gate to the door. The space within the inclosure was chiefly devoted to the cultivation of yams and other vegetables, but Olla showed me a little plot of ground, near the house, which she said was her own garden. It was tastefully arranged, and carefully kept, and a considerable variety of flowers, all of which she had herself transplanted from the woods, were there in full bloom. Most conspicuous among them was the native jasmine, and a species of wood-pink, both of which were fragrant. The building itself was a model of a native dwelling, and since we are to-morrow to try our own skill in house-building, I will endeavour to describe it. It was of an oval shape; the sides were inclosed with handsome mats, with spaces left for the admission of light and air. The roof was composed of a firm and durable thatch of pandanus leaves, strung upon small reeds, laid closely together, and overlapping one another from the eaves to the ridge-pole. "From the inside, the appearance was the neatest and prettiest imaginable, the whiteness of the straight and slender rafters of peeled hibiscus, contrasting well with the ceiling of shining brown leaves which they sustained. The furniture of the house consisted of a number of large sleeping-mats, five or six carved wooden stools, and two narrow tables, or rather shelves, of wicker-work, fastened against the wall at opposite sides of the room. Upon one of these were arranged a number of calabashes, carved wooden dishes, cocoa-nut drinking-cups, and other domestic utensils. Upon the other was a native drum, several clubs and spears, a long vivo or native flute, and a hideous-looking wooden image with four arms and a bunch of red feathers fastened to what was doubtless meant for its head. The rafters were ornamented with braided and coloured cords wound round them, the ends of which hung down several feet, and sustained a number of weapons and various other articles suspended by them. "At the farther end of the room, a woman was pounding taro, or bread-fruit, in a wooden mortar; another, apparently very old and infirm, was sitting upon a low stool near the wall, swaying her body slowly from side to side, and making a low, monotonous noise. I observed that Olla frequently looked towards the latter, with a mournful expression of countenance. When we first entered the house, she went and sat down by her side, and talked with her in a low tone, and when she turned away, her eyes were full of tears. The old woman did not evince any corresponding emotion, but muttered something feebly and indistinctly, as if replying to what Olla had said, of which I could distinguish the words, `It is best, child; Malola is very old; she is sick and weak; she cannot work; it is time she should be buried out of the way.' I instantly suspected that this unhappy creature was to be destroyed by her own friends, on account of her age and infirmities, according to a most horrible and unnatural, but too prevalent custom. I had once been present at a scene of this kind, without the slightest possibility of successful interference, when a native woman had been strangled; her own son, pulling at one end of the tappa which encircled his mother's neck. In that case, the victim, instead of submitting quietly and willingly to her fate, (as is most usual), suddenly lost her courage at the moment of reaching the grave, beside which she was to be strangled, and opposed a frantic and desperate resistance to her murderers. Her heart-rending cries; her fearful struggles; and, more than all, the horrid indifference and cruelty of her executioners, have left upon my mind an indelible impression. I now resolved that if my suspicions proved just, I would make an earnest effort to prevent the repetition of so inhuman a deed, and from what I had already seen of the mild disposition of Mowno, I was inclined to believe that there was great hope of success in such an endeavour. "Rokoa, on hearing the conversation above mentioned, had given me a significant glance, which sufficiently explained to me how he understood it. A very few moments sufficed to confirm my worst suspicions: I learned that the aged female who had spoken of herself as Malola, was Mowno's aunt and that she was, with her own full consent and approval, to be destroyed in a few days. From the manner in which Olla alluded to it, while I inferred that such acts were by no means uncommon among these people, I at the same time clearly perceived, that custom and education had not stifled or perverted in her gentle nature, at least, the ordinary feelings and impulses of humanity, and that she anticipated the deed with terror and loathing. I determined to watch for an opportunity to converse with Mowno, and discover, if possible, whether the cruel insensibility, implied in countenancing such a practice, could really be concealed beneath so smooth and pleasant an aspect. "Meanwhile, the meal, to which we had been summoned, was spread under the shade trees beside the house. It consisted of baked fish, served up in banana leaves, roasted yams, poe-poe, a preparation of bread-fruit, and an excellent kind of pudding, made of cocoa-nut-pulp and taro. It was easy to perceive that Olla, with all her playfulness and girlish vivacity, was a notable housekeeper." "Let me interrupt you a moment, to ask a single question," said Max. "Did you get the recipe for making that pudding from Mrs Mowno?--if so, please impart the same for the general good, and I will try my hand at it the first convenient opportunity." "Heathen!" exclaimed Browne, "can you think of nothing but gormandising? Pray, Arthur, proceed." "And bring on those cannibals forthwith," added Morton, "for unless you do so, Johnny will despair entirely of any fighting, and go to sleep." CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. AN EXPLOSION. THE CANNIBALS APPRECIATE MUSIC AND ELOQUENCE, BUT TAKE OFFENCE AT THE NEW THEOLOGY. "Then tumult rose, fierce rage, and wild affright." "In the afternoon," resumed Arthur, "we went with our host and hostess, and our companions at dinner, to a grove on the banks of the stream--a place of general resort for the villagers during the latter part of every fine day. The younger people met there, to pursue a variety of sports and athletic exercises, and the older to gossip and look on. We had intended to return to the boat, as soon as the repast was over, and it would have been well had we done so. But our new friends insisted so strenuously upon our accompanying them to the grove, that we yielded at last to their playful importunities, so far as to consent to make a brief pause there on our way. We had gone but a short distance from the house, when a bird of about the size of a robin, flew down from a tree beneath which we were passing, and after circling several times around Olla's head, alighted on her finger, which she held out for it to perch upon. It was a young wood-pigeon, which she had found in the grove, when a callow half-fledged thing, the old bird having been captured or killed by some juvenile depredators. Taking pity on its orphan state, Olla had adopted and made a pet of it: it was now perfectly tame, and would come readily at her call of `Lai-evi', (little captive), the name she had given it, attending her so closely as to be seldom during the day beyond the sound of her voice. "On reaching the grove, we found quite a number of the natives, of all ages and of both sexes assembled, and though they soon began to gather about us with inquisitive looks, we were subjected to much less annoyance than might reasonably have been expected under the circumstances. We were neither crowded, nor jostled, nor even offensively stared at, the very children appearing to possess an innate delicacy and sense of propriety, (though it may have been timidity), which made them try to gratify their curiosity covertly, seizing those opportunities to peep at us, when they thought they were themselves unobserved. "Barton, who possessed an enviable faculty of adapting himself to all sorts of people and circumstances, was in a few moments as much at home among the villagers as if he had lived for years in their midst. He gossiped with the old people, romped with the children, and chatted and frolicked with the prettiest and most lively of the dusky maidens, to the manifest disapprobation of several grim-looking young savages, who stalked about in sullen dignity watching these familiar proceedings of the handsome stranger, with rising jealousy and indignation. "At length a bevy of laughing girls, in punishment for some impertinence with which they charged him, fell to pelting him with jasmine buds and pandanus cones, the latter of which, in mischievous hands, are capable of becoming rather formidable missiles. Foremost among the assailants were our fair acquaintances of the morning, and even Olla, forgetting her matronly station and dignity, joined zealously in the flowery warfare; which was maintained with such spirit, that Barton was at length obliged to beg for quarter, promising at the same time to `make some music' for them, as a condition of the suspension of hostilities. This proposition, as soon as it was understood, seemed to afford the most extravagant delight; the shower of missiles ceased at once, and Barton was immediately surrounded by as attentive and breathlessly expectant an audience as artist could desire. Taking his stand upon a moss-covered fragment of rock, he drew an enormous Jew's-harp from his pocket, and handed it to me, gravely requesting me to `accompany' him upon it, while he sang. Then, after clearing his throat, with quite a professional air, he commenced `Hail Columbia,' and as he had a full, clear voice, and sang with great spirit, the performance was listened to with every mark of enjoyment, and was succeeded by rapturous applause. "He next gave a solo on the Jew's-harp to the air of `Yankee Doodle,' with brilliant and original variations, which likewise met with a flattering reception. But by far the greatest sensation was produced by `Auld Lang syne,' which we sang together as a grand finale. The natives really seemed to feel the sentiment of the music, although Barton turned it into a burlesque by such an exaggerated pathos of tone and expression, and gesture, that I had much difficulty in getting through my part of the performance without laughing; but my vexation at being surprised into taking a part in such a piece of buffoonery, greatly helped me in resisting my sense of the ludicrous. At the end of every verse, Barton grasped my hand in the most demonstrative manner, and commenced shaking it vigorously, looking me all the while solemnly in the face, and shaking away through the entire chorus, thereby producing a number of quavers, which, though not set down in the music, greatly added to its pathetic character. After the last chorus, he spread open his arms, rushed forward, and gave me a stage embrace. This performance, including the pantomime, must have been of a very moving character, for when we had finished, I actually saw tears in the eyes of several of our audience. This evidence of the gentle and unsophisticated character of these simple people, affected me almost as much as our music had moved them, and I could not help thinking to how much better account such amiable impressibility was capable of being turned. "Having thus performed his promise, Barton now insisted that we ought to be entertained in our turn with some music, and after a little persuasion, three young girls sang, or rather chaunted, several plaintive, but somewhat monotonous airs. Their voices, though neither strong nor clear, were soft and melodious, like the cooing of their native wood-pigeons. In vain we asked for something livelier and more spirited. Barton humming the tune of `Yankee Doodle,' to make them the better understand what we wanted. All their melodies seemed to be of a slow and measured character, and those specimens which we heard, embraced a comparatively narrow range of notes. "Just as the native girls finished singing, we were joined by a fresh party of eight or ten men, who came across the brook, and mingled with the others. I heard Barton say to Rokoa, `There is the old priest again,' but on looking around I could not see him. The new-comers did not appear to be in the same holiday humour as the throng around us; they walked gravely about without joining in the general mirth and gaiety, and manifesting none of the curiosity in regard to ourselves, which the others had evinced. I, however, thought nothing of this at the time, supposing that they had been of the number of those whom we had seen in the morning by the sea-shore, although I did not recognise any of them. "Presently, Olla and her companions commenced begging us for more music. One young lady in particular, (the same who had pronounced us to be inhabitants of the moon), pressed Barton with unceasing importunities, mingled with threats of a renewal of hostilities in case of non-compliance. Finding all attempts at excuse or evasion utterly unavailing, he suddenly snatched a wreath of yellow candle-nut-blossoms from the head of his tormentress, crowned himself therewith, and springing upon the top of the rock, assumed an oratorical attitude, and waved his hand, as if about to harangue the people. Then, while I was wondering what was to come next, he fixed his eye sternly upon a sinister looking man of middle-age, with the head-dress of an inferior chief, who was standing directly in front of him, and began to declaim in Latin, with great vehemence--`Quo usque tandem abutere, Catilina, patientia nostra,' etcetera, which the audience seemed at first, to consider highly interesting and entertaining. As he proceeded, delivering the sounding sentences, `ore rotundo,' and emphasising each thundering polysyllable with a fierce gesture of his clenched fist, I observed that the individual before mentioned, whom the orator seemed to have chosen to represent Catiline, and who, without understanding Latin, could very well perceive that there was something menacing and vituperative in the language addressed to him, began to look at first puzzled, and then incensed. He stole two or three hurried and uncertain glances at those behind and immediately around him, as if to assure himself whether this torrent of denunciation was not in fact directed against some other person; but when all doubt on this point seemed to have been resolved by the unequivocal demonstrations of the orator, his rigid features assumed an expression of such anger and ferocity, that I began to fear some violent outbreak of passion, and made several attempts by signs and gestures, to indicate to Barton the danger of pursuing so thoughtless and imprudent a pleasantry. But he either did not perceive my meaning, or else, felt rather flattered than alarmed, by the effect which his elocution seemed to produce upon Catiline, for he continued to pour out upon him the torrent of his oratory for several minutes longer, and it was not until his memory began evidently to fail him, that he concluded with a last emphatic invective accompanied by a sufficiently significant pantomime to convey some notion of its meaning, and bowing to his audience, leaped from the rostrum. "This performance, seemed to afford even greater pleasure to the male part of the assembly, (with a few exceptions), than the previous musical entertainment had done, and they testified their approbation, by emphatic nods and shouts of applause. "I now thought it time to terminate our visit, and return to the boat, and was about to speak to Rokoa on the subject, when Barton seized me by the arm, and pushed me towards the platform of rock. "`Now, Arthur, it is your turn,' said he, `you perceive what an effect my eloquence has produced on old Catiline, there: give him a lecture upon the sinfulness of indulging the vindictive passions, and exhort him to repentance.' "The younger people pressed about me, and instigated and aided by Barton, they fairly forced me upon the rocky platform. Though by no means pleased at being obliged to take a part in a farce so little to my taste, and for which I possessed none of Barton's talent, I saw plainly that the shortest and least troublesome way, was to comply with their wishes, and I accordingly endeavoured to recall some fragment of prose or verse which might serve the present purpose. Supposing that English would be quite as intelligible and acceptable to them as Barton's Latin, I was just about to declaim those noble opening lines of Comus-- "`Before the starry threshold of Jove's Court,' etcetera. "Which used to be a favourite of mine at school, when suddenly another impulse seized me. "As I glanced around upon the circle of smiling, upturned countenances, I was struck by the docile and childlike expression of many of them. I thought of the sad and benighted condition of this simple people, without the knowledge of God, or the hope of immortality, given up, as it seemed, a helpless prey to the darkest and most cruel superstitions. I thought of the moss-grown marae in the dark wood, with its hideous idols, its piles of human bones, and its hoary priest--fit minister of such a religion. I remembered the aged woman at Mowno's house, and the frightful doom in reserve for her. I felt that perhaps to such impressible spirits, even a passing word, unskilfully and feebly spoken, might by God's blessing do good; and yielding to the impulse of the moment, instead of declaiming the verses from Comus, I began to speak to them in their own language, of those great truths, the most momentous for civilised or savage man to know, and the most deeply interesting to every thoughtful mind, of whatever degree of culture--truths so simple, that even these untutored children of nature could receive, and be made happy by them. "In the plainest and simplest language I could command, and striving to adapt myself to their habits of thought, and to use those forms of expression most familiar to them, I announced the great doctrine of the existence of one God, the sole creator of the world, and the loving Father of all his creatures. I spoke of his power and his goodness, and told them that though invisible to our eyes, as the wind which stirred the tops of the palm-trees above them, he was ever near each one of us, hearing our words, seeing our actions, reading our thoughts, and caring for us continually. "I endeavoured to illustrate these attributes of God, by references and allusions to the daily aspects of nature around them, and to ideas and notions with which their mode of life, and the system of superstition in which they had been trained, rendered them familiar. My especial aim was to lead them, unconsciously, as it were, and without making any direct attack upon their religion, to contrast the benignant character of Him who has permitted us to call Him `Our Father in Heaven,' with that of the malignant beings they had been taught to worship. "I next spoke of death, and of a future life, and assured them that the friends whom they had buried, and they themselves, and all who had ever lived, should awake as from a brief sleep, and live again for ever. But when I proceeded to declare that most awful and mysterious doctrine of our religion, and spoke of the worm that dieth not and the fire that is not quenched, of eternal happiness, and unending woe, I could see by the earnestness of their attention, and the expression of their countenances, how powerfully they were impressed. "I cannot remember all that I said, or the language I used, but I endeavoured to set before them in a shape adapted to their comprehension, the simple elements of the Christian scheme--the great doctrines of God and immortality, of human sinfulness and accountability, and of salvation through Jesus Christ. But encouraged by the attention and apparent interest of the silent and listening circle, in the glow of the moment, I went beyond this prescribed limit, and from these vast general truths, I began at last to speak of particular acts and practices. As I thought once more of the marae in the forest, and of the unhappy Malola, I told the people that our Father beyond the sky could alone hear their prayers, and should alone be worshipped; that he desired no sacrifices of living things; that he was offended and displeased with all cruelty and bloodshed; and that the offering of human sacrifices, and the killing of aged persons, were crimes which he detested, and would be sure to punish; that he had expressly commanded children to love and honour their parents, and that it was their duty, the older, the more infirm and helpless they became, the more faithfully to cherish and protect them. In speaking on this subject, I grew earnest and excited, and probably my voice and manner too strongly expressed the abhorrence I felt for such monstrous and unnatural crimes. "At this point, Barton, who had for some time been looking on in astonishment at the serious turn which the matter had so unexpectedly taken, interrupted me with the whispered caution-- "`Be careful, Arthur! I fear from the black looks of one of your clerical fathers here, that you are giving offence to the cloth, and trenching upon perilous ground.' "But the warning came too late. Just as I glanced round in search of the threatening looks, to which Barton alluded, a frightful figure sprang up on the outer edge of the circle of listeners, directly in front of me, and with cries of rage forced its way towards the spot where I stood. I recognised at once the old priest of the marae, but how changed since I last saw him! Every sign of age and decrepitude had vanished: his misshapen frame seemed dilated, and instinct with nervous energy: his face was pale with the intensity of his fury, and his small eyes flashed fire. "`Perish, reviler of Oro, and his priests!' he cried, and hurled at me a barbed spear, with so true an aim, that if I had not stooped as it left his hand, it would have struck my face. Whizzing over my head, it pierced the tough bark of a bread-fruit tree, ten yards behind me, where it stood quivering. Instantly catching a club from the hands of a bystander, he rushed forward to renew the attack. He had reached the foot of the rock where I stood, when Rokoa with a bound placed himself between us, and though without any weapon, motioned him back, with a gesture so commanding, and an air at once so quiet, and so fearless, that the priest paused. But it was for an instant only; then, without uttering a word, he aimed a blow full at Rokoa's head. The latter caught it in his open palm, wrenched the weapon from him, and, adroitly foiling a furious attempt which he made to grapple with him, once more stood upon the defensive with an unruffled aspect and not the slightest appearance of excitement in his manner. "The baffled priest, livid with rage, looked round for another weapon. Half a dozen of the men who had arrived upon the ground with him, uttered a wild yell, and pressed forward with brandished clubs and spears. Barton and I, placed ourselves by Rokoa's side, the former handing me one of his pistols. All was tumult and confusion. The outbreak had been so sudden and unexpected, and what I have just related had passed so rapidly, that the bystanders had not yet recovered from the first shock of astonishment and terror. Of the women, some shrieked and fled from the spot, others threw themselves between us and the armed natives, or invoked the interference of their brothers and friends for our protection. Only a few, even of the men, seemed to participate in the feeling of hostility against us. "But however inferior in number, the party of our foes far surpassed that of our friends in resolution and energy. Foremost among them were the priest and the hard-featured chief, who had been so deeply incensed by what he regarded as the wanton insults offered him by Barton. A number of the young men also, whose anger and jealousy had been aroused by his sudden popularity, and the attention which had been paid us, sided zealously with the priest and his party, and joined in the clamour against us. "Meanwhile, Mowno, at Olla's entreaty, strove to calm the tumult, and to pacify the leader and instigator of it; but his authority was fiercely spurned, and our good-natured protector quailed before the fury of the vindictive old man. As yet, however, our enemies, conscious that the sympathies of a large number of the bystanders were with us, had offered us no actual violence, confining themselves to menacing cries and gestures, by which they seemed to be striving to work themselves up to the requisite pitch of excitement. This was likely to be speedily attained under the influence of the fierce exhortations and contagious fury of the priest. Some of the young men, in fact, now commenced a sort of covert attack, by throwing stones and fragments of wood at us from the outskirts of the crowd, and Barton was struck violently in the mouth by one of these missiles, by which his lip was badly cut. In the midst of all the excitement and tumult, Rokoa stood, with the outward appearance at least, of perfect composure. Neither the ravings of the priest, nor the menacing attitude of `Catiline,' nor the brandished weapons of their followers, deprived him of his coolness and presence of mind. He steadily confronted them with an unblenching eye, grasping the club of which he had possessed himself, in readiness to meet the attack, which he at the same time did nothing, by look or gesture, to provoke. His calm intrepidity, while it seemed temporarily to restrain our enemies, served also to reassure and steady Barton and myself; and endeavouring to emulate his self-possession, we stood ready to act as circumstances should indicate, looking to him for the example." Here Arthur paused, as if about to suspend his narrative. Johnny, who was now broad awake, and listening eagerly, waited patiently a few moments, expecting him to recommence. Finding, however, that he did not do so, he at length asked him to "go on." "It is getting quite late," answered Arthur; "see, those three bright stars which were high in the heavens when we first sat down here, are now on the very edge of the horizon, about to sink behind the ocean. As we expect to be up, and on our way to Castle-hill before sunrise to-morrow. I think we should now go to rest." "If we do," replied Johnny, "I am sure I shall not be able to sleep; I shall be thinking of that terrible old priest, and trying to guess how you escaped at last." "I judge," said Browne, "that you are pretty nearly at the end of your adventures in Angatan, so pray let us have the remainder now." "Do so," added Morton, "and set Johnny's mind at rest, or he will be dreaming of cannibals and cannibal-priests all night, and disturbing us by crying out in his sleep." "I think it's quite likely," said Johnny, shaking his head in a threatening manner; "I feel just now very much as if I should." "Since that is the case," said Arthur, "I suppose I must `go on,' in self-defence; and as I believe that twenty minutes will suffice for what remains, I will finish it." CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. THE FLIGHT. TE VEA--THE VICTIM FOR SACRIFICE--THE ESCAPE AND PURSUIT--THE PRIEST'S AMBUSH. "For life, for life, their flight they ply, And shriek, and shout, and battle-cry, And weapons waving to the sky, Are maddening in their rear." "While the party hostile to us, thus stood hesitating, but to all appearance rapidly approaching a point where all hesitation would cease, Olla, with tears streaming down her cheeks, besought us to fly to her husband's house, where, she seemed to imagine, we should necessarily be safe from violence. But though no one yet laid hands on us, we were surrounded on all sides, and could not with any certainty distinguish friends from foes; and the first movement on our part to escape, would probably be the signal for an instant and general attack by the priest and his followers. We thought, therefore, that our best hope of safety lay in maintaining a firm but quiet attitude, until Mowno, and those disposed to protect us, could make their influence felt in our behalf. They, however, confined their efforts to feeble expostulations and entreaties; and perhaps it was unreasonable to expect them to engage in a deadly conflict with their own neighbours, relatives, and personal friends, in the defence of mere strangers like ourselves. They could not even restrain the younger and more violent portion of the rabble from carrying on the species of desultory warfare, from which Barton had already suffered; on the contrary, the stones and other missiles, thrown by persons on the outskirts of the crowd, fell continually thicker and faster. At length Rokoa received a staggering blow on the back of the head, from a clod of earth, thrown by some one who had stolen round behind the rock for that purpose, and who immediately afterwards disappeared in the throng. "`How much longer are we to endure this?' cried Barton. `Must we stand here and suffer ourselves to be murdered by these cowardly attacks? Let us shoot a couple of them, and make a rush for the shore.' "But a moment's reflection was enough to show the utter hopelessness of such an attempt. However much the natives might be astounded for an instant by the discharge of fire-arms, all fear and hesitation would vanish upon our taking to flight. Our backs once turned would be the mark for a score of ready spears; and except perhaps for Rokoa, whose speed was extraordinary, there would be scarcely the possibility for escape. Still it was evident that the audacity of our enemies was steadily increasing, though their attacks were as yet covert and indirect, and, as I knew that Rokoa would not hesitate to retaliate upon the first open assailant, in which case we should be massacred upon the spot, we might soon be compelled to adopt even so desperate a suggestion, as the only alternative of instant death. "At this critical moment, I noticed a sudden movement of surprise or alarm, on the outskirts of the crowd. A group, directly in front of us, no longer giving us their exclusive attention, began to whisper among themselves, glancing and pointing towards the rising ground in our rear, while a half suppressed and shuddering exclamation of `Te Vea! Te Vea!' was heard among the people. Turning round, and looking where all eyes were now directed, I saw a tall native, with a peculiar head-dress of feathers, and a small basket of cocoa-nut-leaflets in his hand, running rapidly towards us. His appearance seemed to awaken in those around us, emotions of terror or aversion, strong enough to swallow up every other feeling, for, no sooner was he perceived, than all thought of prosecuting further the present quarrel, appeared to be abandoned. The priest, alone, evinced none of the general uneasiness or dread, but, on the contrary, a gleam of exultation lighted up his hard and discoloured countenance. The people made way to the right and left, as the new-comer drew near, and a number of them slunk away into the forest or to their homes. The stranger proceeded directly towards Mowno, and taking a small parcel wrapped in leaves, from the basket which he carried, delivered it to him: then, without pausing an instant, or uttering a word, he passed on, taking his way at a rapid pace straight through the village. Mowno received the parcel with a reluctant and gloomy air, though it seemed to consist of nothing but a rough stone, wrapped in the leaves of the sacred miro. For several minutes he stood holding it in his hand, like one deprived of consciousness. Several of those who appeared to be the principal persons present, among whom were Catiline and the priest, now approached him, and they began to hold a whispered consultation, in the course of which the priest frequently pointed towards Rokoa, as though speaking of him. Mowno seemed to be resisting some proposal urged by the others, and spoke in a more decisive and resolute manner than I had thought him capable of assuming. The discussion, whatever was its subject, soon became warm and angry: the voices of Catiline and the priest were raised, and even threatening. Every moment I expected to see Mowno relinquish his opposition; but he remained firm, and at last, with the air of one resolved to put an end to further debate, he said-- "`No! it shall not be either of the strangers; it shall be Terano: he is an evil man, and it will be well when he is gone.' Then speaking to two of those who stood near him, he said, `Go quickly to Terano's house, before he sees the messenger and hides himself in the mountains,' whereupon they seized their spears, and immediately set off in the direction of the village. "Olla now renewed her entreaties for us to leave the spot, and go with her to the house; and Mowno,--by a quick gesture, meant to be seen only by us, indicated his wish to the same effect. Rokoa nodded to me to comply, and we followed Olla as she bounded lightly through the grove, no one offering to oppose our departure. But the priest's restless eye was upon us, and had we set off in the direction of the shore, we should not have been permitted to escape, without an attempt on his part to prevent it. As it was, he appeared to give some direction to those about him, and four or five young men followed us at a distance, keeping us in sight, and taking care that they were always in such a position as to enable them to intercept us in any attempt to recross the island. After having dogged us to Mowno's house and seen us enter, they withdrew into the forest out of sight, where they probably remained on the watch. Rokoa now proceeded to select from Mowno's store of weapons, a club, of more formidable weight and size, than that which he had wrested from the priest, and requested Barton and myself to follow his example. "`We must try to get to the shore,' he said, `there are at present, none to hinder us, but the young men who followed us hither.' "`But that demon of a priest, and the rest of his crew, are not far-off,' said Barton, `and they will be sure to waylay us. For the present we are safe here; and perhaps Mowno will be able to get us back to our boat without danger.' "Rokoa shook his head. `There are others here,' he said, `more powerful than Mowno, and who are our enemies: we must rely upon ourselves.' "Olla watched us anxiously during this conversation; and now, as if she understood its subject at least, she said, with an expression of intelligence and cordial friendliness in her fine eyes, `Listen to me: the words of the priest are more powerful with the great chief than the words of Mowno: to-night, the priest will go to the great chief, and before he returns you must fly; but not now, for you are watched by the young men; you must wait until night--until the moon is behind the grove.' "This seemed to me a wiser course than to undertake, at present, to fight our way to the boat; but Rokoa remained of his former opinion; he apprehended an attack upon our party at the shore during our absence, by which we might be cut off from all means of leaving the island. This certainly was a weighty consideration, and one that had not occurred to me. We were still hesitating, and uncertain what course to pursue, when Mowno came in, looking much troubled, and carrying in his hand the mysterious package, the object and meaning of which I forgot to explain. "A stone, folded in the leaves of the miro, sent by the king, or paramount chief, to the subordinate chiefs of districts or villages, is the customary method of notifying the latter that they are expected to furnish a human victim for some approaching sacrifice. The principal occasions upon which these are required, are at the building of national maraes, at the commencement of a war, or in cases of the serious illness of a superior chief. The number of victims sacrificed, is proportioned to the magnitude of the occasion; as many as a score have sometimes been offered to propitiate the gods during the severe sickness of a powerful chief. The priests signify to the chief the number required; the latter then sends out his runner or messenger, (te vea), who delivers to each of the subordinate chiefs, one of these packages for each victim to be furnished from his immediate district. The odious duty of designating the individuals to be taken, then devolves upon the subordinate, and having decided upon this, he sends a number of armed men to secure the destined victims before they secrete themselves or flee into the woods, as those who have any reason to fear being selected generally do, at the first appearance of the dreaded messenger, or even as soon as it is publicly known that an occasion is at hand for which human sacrifices will be required. When secured, the doomed persons are most commonly killed on the spot by the chief's men, and the bodies wrapped in cocoa-nut leaves and carried to the temple. Sometimes, however, they are preserved alive, and slain by the priests themselves at the altar. "Upon the arrival of the messenger, as already related, with a requisition for one victim from the village, the majority of Mowno's advisers had insisted upon selecting Rokoa for that purpose, and thus avoiding the necessity of sacrificing one of their own people. The priest had gone further still, and proposed to seize upon us all, and send Barton and myself to the two neighbouring villages, to be furnished by them as their quota of victims. To these councils, Mowno had opposed a determined resistance, and he had finally sent his followers to despatch an old man named Terano, whose death would be considered a general benefit, as he was a notorious and inveterate thief and drunkard, who, when not stupefied with ava, was constantly engaged in desperate broils, or wanton depredations upon the property of his neighbours. It seemed, however, that the old man had taken the alarm and fled; several of Mowno's followers were now in pursuit of him, and unless they should succeed in taking him before morning, another person would have to be designated, as it was required to furnish the victims at the great marae, by noon of the following day. "I sickened with disgust, as I listened to details like these. Never before had I so fully realised the darkness and the horrors of heathenism--all the more striking in the present instance, because of the many pleasing and amiable natural qualities of the people who groped amid much darkness, and were a prey to such horrors. "Mowno also recommended us to postpone any attempt at flight until a late hour of the night. He said that he had seen a number of men lurking in the woods near the stream, and that the priest and others had remained in the grove after he had left, probably with the intention of joining them in watching the house. "Olla now went out into the garden, where she walked about looking up among the branches of the tree; and calling out, `Lai-evi!' as if in search of her tame wood-pigeon. After going round the garden, she passed out of the gate, and wandered away in the direction of the brook, still looking among the trees, and repeating at intervals her call of `Lai-evi!' "By-and-bye she returned, and though without her little favourite, she had accomplished her real object, and ascertained the number and position of the spies. She had seen seven of them skulking in the wood along the brook, and watching the house. They seemed anxious to avoid observation, and she could not, without awaking suspicion, get more than transient glimpses of them, so that possibly there might be others whom she had not seen. "Rokoa questioned her as to the space along the bank of the stream occupied by these men, and the distance from one another at which they were stationed. Then after a moment's reflection he turned to Mowno, and asked whether he was confident of being able to protect us, while in his house; to which the latter replied with much earnestness that he both could and would do so. "`Wait here, then,' said Rokoa, addressing Barton and myself, `I will return before the moon sets:' and without affording us an opportunity to inquire what he designed to do, he passed through the door, and bounded into the forest, in the direction opposite to that where the spies of the priest were lurking. "`Is it possible,' said Barton, `that he intends to desert us?' "`You should know him better,' I answered, `unless I am mistaken, he is about to risk his life in an attempt to communicate with our crew, in order to put them on their guard against a surprise, and to render our escape the more easy. If he lives, he will return, to incur a second time with us, the very dangers to which this attempt exposes him.' "Knowing as I did Rokoa's great activity, coolness, and presence of mind, I was sanguine that he would succeed in eluding the vigilance of our enemies, and accomplishing his purpose. "Soon after his departure, Olla set out for our evening meal a light repast of bananas, baked bread-fruit, and vi-apples, fresh from the garden. But neither Barton nor I could eat anything: our thoughts were with Rokoa upon his perilous adventure. When the food had been removed, Mowno suggested that we should all go out into the inclosure, and walk a few times around the house in order that those who were on the watch might be satisfied that we were still there. This we accordingly did, and continued strolling through the garden until it became quite dark. Rokoa had now been gone nearly an hour, and Barton began to grow restless and troubled. Mowno, stationing himself at the end of the walk leading from the house, leaned upon the gate in a listening attitude. As I sat in the wide doorway, beneath the vi-apple trees planted on either side of the entrance, watching the bright constellation of the Cross, just visible above the outline of the grove in the southern horizon, Olla began to question me concerning what I had told the people in the afternoon, of God, and a future life, and the doctrines of Christianity. I was at once touched and astonished, to perceive the deep interest she took in the subject, and the readiness with which she received these truths, as something she had needed and longed for. She seemed to feel how much better and more consoling they were, than the superstitions in which she had been educated. "I was amazed to find that this young heathen woman, growing up in the midst of pagan darkness, was nevertheless possessed of deep and strong religious feelings, which could not be satisfied with the traditions of her people. As I gazed at her ingenuous countenance, full of earnestness and sensibility, while she endeavoured to express the vague thoughts on these subjects which had at times floated through her mind, I could scarcely believe that this was the same gay and careless being, whose life had seemed to be as natural, as unconscious, and as joyous, as that of a bird or a flower. She said, that often when alone in some secluded spot in the depth of the wood, while all around was so hushed and peaceful, she had suddenly burst into tears, feeling that what she had been taught of the gods could not be true, and that if Oro was indeed the creator of so beautiful a world--if he had made the smiling groves, the bright flowers, and the multitude of happy living things, he must be a good being, who could not delight in the cruelties practised in his name. Often, when a mere girl, thoughts like these had visited her, wandering by the sea-shore at twilight, or looking up through the foliage of waving cocoa-nut-groves at the starry skies, when nature herself, by her harmony and beauty, had seemed to proclaim that God was a being of light and love, in whom was no darkness at all! "Presently Mowno joined us, and I talked with him in regard to the intended burial of the aged woman, his aunt and endeavoured to make him see the act in its true light. But with all his natural amiability, such was the effect of custom and education, that he seemed perfectly insensible on the subject. He observed, in a cool, matter-of-fact manner, that when people got very old and could not work, they were of no use to others or themselves--that it was then time for them to die, and much best that they should do so at once; and that if they did not, then their friends ought to bury them. As to Malola, his aunt, he said that she was quite willing to be buried, and had in fact suggested it herself; that she was often very sick, and in great pain, so that she had no pleasure in living any longer; he added, as another grave and weighty consideration, that she had lost most of her teeth, and could not chew her food, unless it was prepared differently from that of the rest of the family, which caused Olla much trouble. "Finding that argument and expostulation had not the slightest effect upon him, I changed my tactics, and suddenly demanded whether he would be willing to have Olla buried, when _she_ began to get old and infirm? This seemed at first to startle him. He glanced uneasily at his little wife, as if it had never before occurred to him that she _could_ grow old. Then, after staring at me a moment in a half angry manner, as though offended at my having suggested so disagreeable an idea, he seemed all at once to recover himself, remarking quickly, that _he_ should be old then, too, and that they could both be buried together. This consolatory reflection seemed completely to neutralise the effect of my last attack, and Mowno's countenance resumed its habitual expression of calm and somewhat stolid placidity. "Baffled, but not discouraged, I next strove, by drawing an imaginary picture of Olla and himself in their old age, surrounded by their grown up children, to show how happy and beautiful the relation between the child and the aged parent might be. I summoned up all my rhetorical powers, and sketched what I conceived to be a perfect model of an affectionate and dutiful Angatanese son. After clothing him with all the virtues and accomplishments of the savage character, I proceeded to endue him with that filial affection, whose beauty and power it was my chief object to illustrate. I represented him as loving his father and mother all the more tenderly on account of the infirmities of age now stealing over them. Upon the arm of this affectionate son, the white-haired Mowno supported himself; when at morning and evening he went forth to take his accustomed walk in the groves. He it was, who brought home daily to his aged mother, the ripest fruits, and the freshest flowers. His smiling and happy countenance was the light of their dwelling; his cheerful voice, its sweetest music. I was proceeding thus in quite an affecting strain, as it seemed to me, (though I must in honesty confess that Mowno appeared to be less moved by it than myself; and somewhat cooled my enthusiasm by giving a great yawn in the midst of one of the most touching passages), when Olla, who had been listening with moistened eyes, gently stole her arm around her husband's neck, and murmured a few words in his ear. Whether it was my pathetic eloquence, or Olla's caress, that melted his hitherto obdurate heart, I will not pretend to say, but it is certain that he now yielded the point, and promised that Malola should be permitted to live. `At least,' he added, after a moment's reflection, `as long as she can see, and walk about.' "Several times, since it had grown dark, I had heard sounds like the distant beating of drums, mingled occasionally with the long and sorrowful note of the buccinum-shell, or native trumpet. Twice, also, while Mowno was standing at his gate, messengers had arrived, apparently in haste, and after briefly conferring with him, had posted off again. When I remarked upon these sounds, Mowno said that they came from the marae, where preparations for the approaching ceremony were going forward; but to me, they seemed to proceed from several different points, at various distances from us. "I now began to feel painfully anxious at Rokoa's protracted absence. It was nearly midnight, and there had been ample time for one less active than he, to go to the shore and return. The terrible apprehension, that in spite of all the resources of his skill and courage, he had fallen into the hands of some of the parties of natives which seemed to be scattered about in the forest, gained every moment a stronger hold upon my mind. "`He has either been taken, or else he finds that he cannot rejoin us, without too great risk,' said Barton, breaking a long silence, and speaking of that which each knew the other to be thinking about; `we must start for the shore ourselves, if he does not come soon.' "`Hark!' whispered Olla, `some one is approaching from the wood.' Her quick ear had detected stealthy steps crossing the avenue. The next moment some one bounded lightly over the hedge at the side of the house, where the shadow of the bread-fruit trees fell darkest. Mowno started, and seemed agitated, and for an instant a suspicion that he had betrayed us, and was about to give us up, flashed through my mind. But the figure which came forward into the light, was that of Rokoa, and I felt pained at the wrong which my momentary doubts had done our inert, but well-meaning, host. Rokoa breathed quick and short. Without speaking, he pointed to the moon, now on the edge of the western horizon of forest, to intimate that he was punctual to the time set for his return. "The sounds which I had before heard, were now borne more plainly than ever to our ears upon the night breeze. As soon as Rokoa recovered his breath, he said that we had not a moment to lose, but must commence our flight at once. He had passed an armed party of more than twenty men, coming in the direction of the house, with the purpose, as he supposed, of demanding that we should be given up to them. Mowno seemed more displeased than alarmed at this intelligence, and earnestly repeated that no harm should befall us while beneath his roof, if he had to lay down his life in our defence. But Rokoa urged our immediate departure, before the arrival of the party which he had seen. Mowno then offered to accompany, and guide us to our boat, which Rokoa firmly declined, on the ground that his presence might endanger him, and, in the excited and determined mood of our enemies, could be no protection to us. "We accordingly took a hurried leave of him, and Olla. `Good-bye, Artua,' said the latter, `Olla will not forget what you have told her of our great Father in the sky; she will ask him for a new heart that she too, may go when she dies, to the Christian heaven,' and she pointed upward, while a happy smile lighted up her intelligent, and, for the moment, serious countenance. "We sprang over the hedge, and, Rokoa leading the way, proceeded swiftly but silently down the avenue. We passed some distance beyond the point where we had struck into it in the morning, to avoid the neighbourhood of the village, then turning towards the shore, descended into the valley until we reached the stream. At this point, it was deep and narrow, with a rapid current, but we had no time to look for a ford. Cries and shouts on the hill above us, showed that we were pursued, and a confused clamour from the village indicated the existence of some unusual commotion there. Tum-tums were beating fiercely, and the long dismal wail of the tuba-conch resounded through the echoing arches of the forest. We swam the stream as silently as possible, Barton holding his pistols above his head in one hand to keep the charges dry. As we climbed the further bank, and plunged into the wood of miros, we could hear the splashing of the water caused by persons fording the brook a short distance below us, and opposite the village. In the same direction a multitude of candle-nut torches gleamed through the foliage, and revealed dusky forms hurrying hither and thither. We pushed on through the wood at the top of our speed, until suddenly the outlines of the marae, illuminated by the glare of a large bonfire, loomed up before us. A score of half-naked men, were dancing around the fire in front of the inclosure, with the wildest and most extravagant contortions of body. Seen by the fitful and wavering light, their painted countenances scarcely looked like those of human beings, and the grim, immovable idols, upon their pedestals, seemed vaster and more hideous than ever. "As we turned, and plunged into the grove again, resuming our flight in a somewhat altered direction, an eager shout announced that we had been seen. But this cry proceeded, not from the group in front of the marae, who were wholly absorbed in their savage orgies, but from a straggling party of pursuers from the village, to whom the light of the bonfire had betrayed us. The chase was now no longer random or uncertain; they came on like hounds in full view of the game, uttering yells that caused the blood to curdle in my veins. My strength began to fail, and I felt a horrible spell creeping over me, like that which often in dreams, deprives us of the power to fly some appalling danger. Rokoa restrained his superior speed, and kept beside Barton and myself. `Courage, Artua!' he said, `we are near the shore,' and he offered me his hand to assist me, but I would not take it. Notwithstanding our utmost exertions our pursuers gained upon us. I was very nearly exhausted when we reached the ravine which divided the miro-grove from the bread-fruit plantation, and, as we struggled up its steep side, Barton panted and gasped so painfully for breath, that I dreaded each moment to see him fall to the ground incapable of proceeding further. But we knew that our lives were at stake, and forced ourselves to exertions which nature could not long support; still, the cries of our pursuers, the sound of their footsteps, and the crashing of branches in their path, drew continually nearer. "At last we had nearly traversed the breadth of the plantation, and the welcome sound of the waves, breaking upon the beach, greeted our ears. Safety now seemed within our reach, and we summoned all our remaining energies for a final effort. The trees, growing more thinly as we approached the skirt of the wood, let in the light, and between their trunks I caught a glimpse of the sea. Right before us was a thicket, tangled with fern, and scarcely twenty yards beyond it lay the beach shining in the star-light. As we turned a little aside to avoid the thicket, an appalling yell rang out from it, and half a dozen dark figures started from their ambush, and sprang into the path before us. The old priest was at their head: my heart sank, and I gave up all as host. Rokoa, swinging up his ponderous club, bounded into their midst. `Onward!' cried he, `it is our only hope of escape.' His movements were light as those of a bird, and rapid as lightning. His first blow stretched the priest at his feet. The savages gave way before him, scattering to the right and left, as if a thunderbolt had fallen among them. Barton discharged both his pistols at once, and with fatal effect, as was witnessed by the groans that followed. Before they could rally or recover themselves, we had burst through their midst. As we reached the shore, I looked round and missed Barton--he was no longer beside me. An exulting cry behind us at once explained his absence: at the same time we could hear him call out in a voice broken by exhaustion, `Save yourselves, you can do nothing for me!' Without an instant's hesitation, Rokoa turned, and we rushed back into the midst of our shouting enemies. Three or four of the party which had been in pursuit of us, were just coming up. The audacity and desperation of our attack seemed to confound them, and two of their number fell, almost without a struggle, beneath Rokoa's rapid and resistless blows. Two more of them, who were dragging Barton away, were compelled to leave him at liberty in order to defend themselves. At that moment a sudden shout from the water raised by our crew, who had either heard our voices, or seen us when we came out upon the shore, increased their panic by causing them to suppose that we were leading back our whole party to the fight. They hastily gave way before us, and we had all turned once more, and gained the beach before they recovered from their surprise, and perceived their mistake. "Our boat was just outside the surf; where the crew were keeping her steady with their paddles. We hailed them, and plunged in the water to swim out to them. The natives, stung with shame and rage at having their prisoner torn from them in the very moment of triumph, with such reckless boldness, swarmed down to the beach and pursued us into the water. They seemed excited almost to frenzy at the prospect of our escape. Some standing upon the shore assailed the canoe with showers of stones, by which several of our men were wounded. Others swam out after us, as if about to endeavour to board the vessel, and did not turn back until we had hoisted our sail, and began to draw steadily from the land. "And thus ends the story of the Cannibal Island of Angatan." "Is that all?" inquired Johnny, looking somewhat disappointed. "Yes, that is all," answered Arthur, "it comes as near to being a cannibal story, as any thing I know. I did not see any one actually roasted and eaten, but if the savages had caught us, I suspect there would have been more to tell, and probably no one here to tell it." "But," persisted Johnny, "the story don't end there. You haven't told us about the rest of the voyage, and whether Rokoa found his brother at last." "O, that don't properly belong to _this_ story. According to all artistical rules I ought to end precisely where I have, in order to preserve the unities. But some other time, if you wish, I will tell you all about it." "Pray don't talk of artistical rules," exclaimed Max, "after showing yourself such an egregious bungler! You had there all the elements of a capital story, and you have just spoiled them." "`How prove you that, in the great heap of your knowledge,'" cried Browne, "`come now, unmuzzle your wisdom,' and specify the blunders of which he has been guilty. I say, with Touchstone, `instance briefly, shepherd; come, instance.'" "Why, in the first place, there was a miserly spirit of economy in regard to his men. He should have invested the narrative with a tragic interest, by killing Rokoa and Barton, at least;--being the narrator he couldn't kill himself conveniently;--but he might, with good effect have been `dangerously wounded.'" "But suppose," said Arthur, "that I wanted Rokoa to figure in a future story, and so couldn't afford to kill him just yet?" "A miserable apology! it evinces a lamentable poverty of imagination to make one character serve for two distinct tales." "Well, a further instance, `gentle shepherd,'" cried Browne, "`a more sounder instance.'" "Then, again," resumed Max, with an oracular air, "it was a capital error to make Olla a married woman; what business I should like to know, can a married woman have in a story?--She belongs properly to the dull prosaic region of common life--not to the fairy land of romance. Now the charm of sentiment is as necessary to a perfect tale, as the interest of adventure, or the excitement of conflict, and had Olla been single, there would have been the elements of something beautifully sentimental." "Enough!" cried Browne, "if you have not `lamed me with reasons,' you have at least overwhelmed me with words--there now! I believe I am unconsciously catching the trick of your long-winded sing-song sentences--it must be contagious." "Well," said Arthur, "I give over the `materials' to Max, with full permission to work them up into a romance after his own fashion, introducing as much slaughter and sentiment as he shall judge requisite for the best effect, and when completed, it shall be inserted by way of episode in our narrative." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Note. Upon consulting the charts we find an island called "Ahangatan", (of which Angatan is perhaps a contraction), laid down on some of them, about one hundred and fifty miles north of Hao. On others the same island is called Ahangatoff. The US Exploring Expedition visited Hae, and most of the neighbouring islands, but we have not been able to discover any mention of Angatan in the published records of the expedition. CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. HOUSE-BUILDING. DAWN ON THE LAGOON--THE "SEA-ATTORNEY"--THE "SHARK-EXTERMINATOR"--MAX "CARRIES THE WAR INTO AFRICA." "Another hour must pass ere day grows bright, And ere the little birds begin discourse In quick low voices, ere the streaming light Pours on their nests, just sprung from day's fresh source." After the late hours we had kept on the last evening, most of us would willingly have prolonged our slumbers beyond the time previously fixed for setting out upon our return to Castle-hill. But before it was fairly light, Arthur was up, with an unseasonable and provoking alacrity, calling loudly upon us to bestir ourselves. In vain Browne apostrophised him in moving strains as "the rude disturber of his pillow," remonstrated against such unmerciful punctuality, and petitioned for another nap; in vain Max protested that we were not New York shop-boys, obliged to rise at daylight to make fires, and open and sweep out stores, but free and independent desert islanders, who had escaped from the bondage of civilised life, and the shackles of slavish routine, and who need not get up until noon, unless of our own good pleasure. Arthur was inexorable, and finding that further sleep was out of the question, we yielded at last to his despotic pertinacity, and groped our way into the boat, yawning desperately, and not more than half awake. The sea-fowl had not yet begun to stir in their nests, when we pushed out into the lagoon, and commenced pulling homeward--as we had now almost come to regard it--holding a course midway between the reef and the shore. A few moments' exercise at the oars sufficed to dispel our drowsiness, and to reconcile us somewhat to the early start, which we had so reluctantly taken. The faint grey light revealed the sleeping landscape, invested with the delicious freshness and repose of the earliest dawn in summer. The shores of the island, with their dense masses of verdure, were so perfectly mirrored in the lagoon, that the peculiar characteristics of the different kinds of foliage could be distinguished in their reflections. The drooping plumes of the palms, the lance-shaped pandanus leaves, and the delicate, filmy foliage of the casuarina, were all accurately imaged there; the inverted shore below, with its fringe of trees and shrubbery, looking scarcely less substantial and real, than its counterpart above. But as the light increased, these reflections lost their softness, and the clearness of their outlines. The gradually brightening dawn, cast new and rapidly changing lights and shades upon the waters and the shores; and the latter, which, as we moved onward, we beheld every moment from a new point of view, charmed the eye with a perpetual variety. In some places they were abrupt and bold; in others smoothly rounded, or gently sloping. Now we were opposite a jutting promontory, which, crowned with verdure, and overgrown with pendulous and creeping plants, pushed out over the narrow alluvial belt of shore, to the water's edge; now shooting past it, we caught a sudden and transient glimpse of some cool valley, opening down to the lagoon, and stretching away inland through vistas of fine trees. Johnny expressed a fervent wish that he was a painter, in order that we might sail round the island, take sketches of the scenery, and then paint a panorama, embracing all the best views, by exhibiting which at twenty-five cents a head, we should all make our fortunes upon getting home. He appeared to have some doubts, however, whether that particular time of day could be painted, even by the most accomplished artist. The lagoon channel wound through fields of branching coral trees of luxuriant growth, among which, numbers of large fish were moving sluggishly about, as if they had got up too early, and were more than half inclined to indulge in another nap. As we passed over a sort of bar, where there was not more than a fathom and a half of water, we espied an immense green turtle at the bottom, quietly pursuing his way across our track, and though by no means a beautiful creature, looking infinitely happier and more lively than the dull-eyed wretches of his race, which I have seen lying on their backs, at the doors of the New York restaurants, ready to be converted into soup and steaks. Johnny mourned over the impracticability of making any attempt at his capture, and heaved a sigh which seemed to come from the bottom of his heart, as the unsightly reptile disappeared among the mazes of the submarine shrubbery. The hardship of the case, seemed to be greatly aggravated in his eyes, as he contrasted it with the better fortune of Robinson Crusoe and the Swiss Family, the former of whom, as he reminded us, caught "any quantity of turtles" on the beach of his island, with no other trouble than that of turning them over upon their backs; while the latter, having surprised an enormous fellow taking an afternoon nap on the surface of the water, treacherously harpooned him in his sleep, and then, steering him as easily as one would drive a well-broken nag, compelled him to tow themselves and their pinnace ashore. A somewhat startling incident put an end to these interesting reminiscences. Johnny was leaning over the gunwale, and with his face almost touching the surface, and his hands playing in the water, was peering down into the lagoon, probably on the look-out for another turtle, when a large shark, coming as it seemed from beneath the boat, rose suddenly but quietly, and made a snatch at him. Johnny saw the monster barely in time; for just as he sprang up with a cry of affright, and fell backwards into the boat the shark's shovel-nose shot four feet above water at our stern, his jaws snapping together as he disappeared again, with a sound like the springing of a powerful steel-trap. Though baffled in his first attack, the voracious fish continued to follow us, watching closely an opportunity for a more successful attempt. He was a large brown shark, of the species known to sailors as the "sea-attorney," which designation, together with his formidable reputation for keenness, vigilance, and enterprise, shows the estimation in which the members of the ancient and honourable profession of the law, are held by the honest sons of Neptune. Max professed to recognise him, as our acquaintance of the previous evening, by whom himself and Browne had been for a time kept in a state of blockade: our present visitor certainly evinced the same uncommon fierceness and audacity which had astonished us in the individual referred to. He was a trim, round-bodied, compact fellow with a wonderful display of vigour, and even of grace, in his movements; but though not without a certain kind of beauty, I do not wish to be understood as saying that his personal appearance was upon the whole, prepossessing. On the contrary, his expression, if I may venture to use the term, (and he certainly had a good deal of expression), was, if not decidedly bad, at the least exceedingly sinister. His flattened head, and long leather-like snout together with a pair of projecting goggle eyes, so situated as to command a view both in front and rear, and which he kept turning restlessly on every side, contributed greatly to enhance this forbidding aspect. Every moment he seemed to grow fiercer and bolder, and at length he actually laid hold of our keel next the rudder and fairly shook the boat from stem to stern. To our great relief, he soon desisted from this, for such was his bulk and strength, that we hardly knew what he might not effect in his furious efforts. His next move, was to make a sudden dash at Max's oar, which had probably given him offence by coming too near his nose, and which he jerked from his hands. Max seemed to regard this last exploit as a personal affront, and loudly declared that, "this was going altogether too far, and that he should not stand it any longer." He accordingly proceeded with great energy, to lash his cutlass to the handle of one of the remaining oars, with some twine which he found in the locker, threatening all sorts of terrible things against the unsuspecting object of his wrath. Meanwhile Morton succeeded in fishing up the lost oar, which the vigilance and activity of our attentive escort rendered a somewhat dangerous undertaking; when recovered, the marks of six rows of formidable teeth were found deeply indented upon its blade. Max having completed his novel weapon, Browne, who had been engaged in an unprofitable attempt to strike the shark across the eyes with his cutlass, inquired, "what he was going to do with that clumsy contrivance!" "That clumsy contrivance, as you rashly term it," replied Max, with dignity, "is designed as a shark-exterminator, with which I intend forthwith to pay my respects to this audacious sea-bully. We have stood on the defensive quite long enough, and I am now about to carry the war into Africa." He accordingly jumped upon the middle seat of the yawl, where, in spite of all attempts at dissuasion, he stood watching a favourable opportunity for a thrust. This was soon presented. All unconscious of the unfriendly designs cherished against him, the shark came propelling himself carelessly alongside, and directly under Max's nose, with his back fin quite above water. The temptation was not to be resisted. Max braced himself as firmly as possible in his position: Arthur expostulated, and begged him at least to get down and stand in the boat: Morton exhorted him to caution. But he only answered by a wave of the hand and a grim smile; then requesting Browne to lay fast hold of his waist-band, to assist him in preserving the centre of gravity, he raised his weapon in both hands, and giving it a preliminary flourish, brought it down with his full force, aiming at the broadest part of the fish's back, just forward of the dorsal fin. But the weapon was too dull, or the blow too feeble, to pierce the tough hide of the "sea-attorney," for it glanced smoothly off and Max losing his balance, went headlong into the sea. Browne, in a hasty effort to save him came near going over also, while the boat careened until the water poured in over the gunwale, and for a moment there was imminent danger of capsizing. Max came to the surface, almost paralysed with fright, and clutched convulsively at the side of the boat; when we drew him on board unharmed, but pale and shivering, as he well might be, after so extraordinary an escape. The shark had disappeared, and was now nowhere to be seen. Not being accustomed to Max's system of "carrying the war into Africa," so sudden and headlong an attack in his own element had probably somewhat disconcerted him. Max made a great effort to assume an air of composure. "Well!" said he, looking coolly around, "the enemy has, I perceive, beaten a retreat. I dare say he was quite as much frightened as I was, and that is saying a good deal." "But what has become of that patent shark-exterminator!" observed Browne, "I don't see it anywhere: has the enemy carried it off as a trophy of victory, as conquering knights take possession of the arms of their vanquished adversaries!" "It is much more likely," replied Max with disdain, "that he has carried it off stuck fast in his carcass." But neither supposition proved to be correct, for we presently picked up the "exterminator," floating near us. Johnny narrowly examined the blade, and was much disappointed at not finding "any blood on it." Max now took an oar to steady his nerves by rowing, for, notwithstanding his assumed composure and forced pleasantry, they had evidently been a good deal shaken by his recent narrow escape. By the time we came in sight of Sea-bird's Point, the increasing light, and the rosy glow in the "dappled east," heralded the rising of the sun, and announced that the heat and glare of the tropical day, were on the point of succeeding the mild freshness of "incense-breathing morn." Nor were other tokens wanting, that the reign of night was over. A strange confusion of indistinct and broken sounds, issuing from myriads of nests and perches all along the beach, showed that the various tribes of sea-fowl were beginning to bestir themselves. A few slumbrous, half-smothered sounds from scattered nests preluded the general concert, and then the notes were taken up, and repeated by the entire feathered population for miles along the shore, until the clamour seemed like that of ten thousand awakening barn-yards. And now the scene began to be enlivened by immense multitudes of birds, rising in the air, and hovering in clouds over the lagoon. Some wheeled around us in their spiral flight; others skimmed the water like swallows, dipping with marvellous promptness after any ill-starred fish that ventured near the surface; others again, rose high into the air, from whence, by their incredible keenness of sight, they seemed readily to discern their prey, when, poising themselves an instant on expanded wings, they would pounce perpendicularly downward, and disappearing entirely in the water for an instant, emerge, clutching securely a struggling victim. But in carrying on this warfare upon the finny inhabitants of the lagoon the feathered spoilers were not perfectly united and harmonious; and fierce domestic contentions occasionally interrupted and diversified their proceedings. A number of unprincipled man-of-war hawks, who preferred gaining their livelihood by robbing their neighbours and associates, to relying upon their own honest industry, would sail lazily around on wide-spread pinions, watching with the air of unconcerned spectators the methodical toil of the plodding gannets. But the instant that one of the latter rose from a successful plunge, with a plump captive writhing in his grasp, all appearance of indifference would vanish, and some dark-plumaged pirate of the lagoon, pouncing down like lightning upon his unwarlike neighbour, would ruthlessly despoil him of his hard-earned prize. One of these piratical gentry suffered before our eyes a fate worthy of his rapacity. A gannet had seized upon a fish much larger than his strength enabled him to manage, and was struggling in vain to lift it into the air, when a hawk darted upon them, and striking his talons into the fish, put the gannet to flight. But the greedy victor had greatly miscalculated the strength of his intended prey. A desperate conflict, sometimes under water, and sometimes just at the surface, ensued. The hawk struggled gallantly, but in vain, and was at length drawn under by his ponderous antagonist, to rise no more. We landed a short distance beyond Johnny's row of "Oyster-trees," and by the time we had climbed the hill, the sun had risen, though not yet visible above the wooded heights which sheltered us to the eastward. We were so intent upon our house-building project that, contenting ourselves with a self-denying breakfast of cocoa-nuts, we at once set zealously to work in carrying it out. Arthur directed, superintended, and laid out the work in detail. Morton, having fitted a handle to the hatchet-head, and laboriously sharpened it upon a rough stone, undertook to supply materials as fast as called for. While he cut down trees of the kind and size required by Arthur, Max trimmed off the branches with his cutlass, and prepared them for use. Johnny and Eiulo dragged them to the site of the building, where Browne and I assisted Arthur in setting the posts into the ground, and putting together the frame of the house. Of course, our destitution of proper tools and implements rendered all this exceedingly laborious, and, but for Arthur's perseverance and ingenuity, we should more than once have given up in despair. Instead of spades, we were obliged to use sharp bivalve shells from the shore, in digging places for the upright posts of the building, and as it was necessary that these should be set quite deep, in order to give it firmness and stability, the toil was severe. Max, who came up occasionally to see how the work was progressing, and to offer suggestions and criticisms, (more especially the latter), on finding us upon our knees, patiently grubbing up the earth with our shells, flatteringly compared us to so many hedge-hogs excavating their burrows. Nevertheless, we persevered; and before night we had nearly completed the frame of our building, with the exception of the ridge-pole, the rafters, and cross-pieces. The posts at the sides stood six feet out of the ground, and were stationed about three feet apart. The centre-posts, to support the ridge-pole, were nine feet high, and made from the trunks of well-grown trees, some six inches in diameter. This certainly was a good day's work under the circumstances; at any rate, we were quite unanimous in considering it so; and towards twilight we went down to the beach for our evening bath, in an exceedingly complacent and self-satisfied state of mind, Max enlarging upon the pleasures of industry, and professing to be in the present enjoyment of those feelings-- "Which follow arduous duty well performed." Instead of repairing to our usual bathing-place, we proceeded along the beach to the north-west, until we reached the clump of trees at the edge of the water, already mentioned as being visible from Castle-hill. As we approached the spot, we found that what had appeared at a distance to be but a single group of trees, was, in fact, a small grove extending along the shore, and fringing a little cove of nearly elliptical form, which at this point set into the land. The narrow, shelving beach, rivalled the whiteness of a fresh snow-drift. The trees were mostly cocoa-palms; indeed, scarcely any others could flourish in such a spot; and there were no shrubs or undergrowth of any kind. The cove was perhaps a hundred paces long, and half as wide in the widest part; contracting to less than fifty feet where it communicated with the lagoon. The water was clear, the bottom smooth and regularly formed, and the greatest depth was only eight or ten feet. Max, after viewing the cove with the eye of a connoisseur, pronounced it a noble spot for bathing purposes, and fully equal to the basin on the reef in every respect, except in depth and facilities for diving. The impression of his morning's adventure, however, was still fresh, and he hinted at the possibility that some shark of elegant tastes, and possessing an eye for the beautiful, might be in the habit of frequenting the cove. Arthur volunteered to keep watch at the narrow entrance, while the rest of us were bathing, in order to give timely notice of the approach of the dreaded enemy; but on walking out to the edge of the lagoon we found that this precaution would be unnecessary. A bar, consisting of a coral patch, very near the surface, stretched across the mouth of the cove, rendering it almost impossible for a shark to enter. Johnny named the spot, "The Mermaid's Cove," but this possessive designation was merely complimentary, for so far were we from renouncing the cove in favour of the mermaids, that from the day on which we discovered it, it became one of our favourite and regular resorts. CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. THE CABIN BY THE LAKE. A DEMOCRAT IN THE WOODS--ECHO-VALE AND LAKE LAICOMO--THE "WILD FRENCHMAN" DISCOVERED AT LAST. "A few firm stakes they planted in the ground, Circling a narrow space, but large enow, These strongly interknit they closed around With basket-work of many a pliant bough. The roof was like the sides; the door was low, And rude the hut, and trimmed with little care, For little heart had they to dress it now: Yet was the humble structure fresh and fair. And soon the inmates found that peace might sojourn there." It took us an entire week to complete the frame of our building, and this alone involved an amount and variety of labour which few of us had anticipated when we commenced it. One day was consumed in selecting, felling, and trimming a tree, tall and straight enough to serve as a ridge-pole. We next had to get out some thirty rafters of hibiscus to support the roof. Then, as we had no nails, (Max's ship with the hardware not having yet arrived), we were obliged to adopt the means used by the Polynesian builders for fastening the rafters to the ridge-pole and cross-pieces, which consists of tying them firmly in their places with sennit. To supply the place of sennit, we manufactured a quantity of cord from twisted hibiscus bark, which answered the purpose very well. At length the skeleton of the house was completed. Twenty-seven strong posts, (including the three tall centre ones), deeply planted in the ground, supported the string pieces and the ridge-pole. Fifteen slender rafters, regularly placed at small intervals, descended from the ridge-pole to the eaves on either side, and the whole was firmly bound together with tough and durable withes of our own manufacture. The thatching occupied another week, and but for Eiulo's skill and dexterity, we should never have accomplished this nice and difficult operation, except after a very bungling and imperfect fashion. Arthur understood very well how it should be done, but his knowledge was theoretical rather than practical, while Eiulo had acquired considerable skill in the art, by building and thatching miniature houses in the woods, an amusement which he and his young playmates had often practised at home. The only thing now remaining to be done, was to make a number of coarse mats, with which to enclose the sides of the house--as far as in such a climate it is desirable to enclose them--together with an additional supply, ready to be put up in bad weather, on fastenings constructed for the purpose. But for this, there seemed to be no immediate necessity. The sides of the building were low, and the eaves extended two feet beyond them, and as we had an excellent roof above us, we considered ourselves tolerably prepared, even for rainy weather. However, we commenced manufacturing mats, in which, with the instruction and example of Arthur and Eiulo, we were tolerably successful; but we proceeded with this very much at our leisure. One or two brief showers, like that which had exerted so sudden an influence in hastening the commencement of our building scheme, afforded us the most satisfactory evidence of the good qualities of our roof, which did not admit a drop of rain. But at the same time we became aware of another defect in our house, as a dwelling in wet weather. We had no floor but the bare earth, and though Arthur had so levelled it, and protected it by a little trench and embankment, that no water from the adjacent grounds could reach us, except by the gradual process of saturation, still it was very damp after a severe rain. To remedy this, Arthur talked from time to time of making a floor of cement, which would dry to the hardness of stone, and through which the moisture from the ground could not penetrate. When asked where lime was to be obtained with which to make his cement he assumed an air of mystery, and merely said that there would be no difficulty on that score. One day, after we had got a large supply of mats completed, and ready for use, he again recurred to the subject of improving our floor, and explained that he intended to prepare his mortar or cement, from sand and lime, the latter of which was to be procured by burning coral rock in a pit. He prevailed upon Morton, Browne, and myself to set about digging a "lime-pit" in the gully beside Castle-hill, while he took Eiulo and Johnny with him in the boat, to go in search of a quantity of the sponge-shaped coral, which, he said, was the best adapted to his purpose. Max pronounced the whole project a humbug, and refusing to have anything to do with it, equipped himself with club and cutlass, and started off on a solitary excursion towards the south-easterly part of the island, which we had not yet explored. He returned in the afternoon with a glowing account of the discoveries he had made, among which were a beautiful pond of fresh water, a stream flowing into it, and a waterfall. In two days we completed a lime-pit of proper dimensions. Arthur and his assistants had in the same time collected and brought to the spot a sufficient quantity of coral rock; we then covered the bottom of the pit with fuel, and laid the coral, previously broken into small pieces, upon it. The pile was next kindled, and when the fuel was consumed, we found that the coral had yielded a supply of excellent lime, fine and beautifully white. Without going into further details, it is enough to say that the rest of Arthur's plan was carried out with the same success. The cement was made, and a thick layer of it spread over the floor of the house, as evenly and smoothly as could well be done, with no better trowels than gigantic oyster-shells. In three days it was hard as marble, and our house was now as complete as we could make it. It had cost us a great deal of severe toil; we had found the construction of it no such holiday employment as we had imagined; but it was the fruit of our own ingenuity and perseverance, the work of our own hands, and we regarded it with much complacency. Johnny impartially compared it with the dwellings of I don't know how many other desert islanders, and found it superior in some point to each and all of them. Being now in a state of complete preparation, as we flattered ourselves, for all sorts of weather, we began to feel as though a regular out-and-out storm, would be rather a luxury than otherwise. These bright skies and sunny days were very well in their way, but it wasn't in anticipation of them, that we had been planning and working for a month or more. There was no use at all for our model house in such fine weather; indeed, while it continued, our old lodgings under the green forest leaves and the star-light, were far preferable. It took full half a dozen of our sleeping-mats, (and we had but three apiece), laid upon the stony floor of our dwelling, to make a couch half as soft as those heaps of leaves, which we used to pile up beneath the trees for our beds, and which we could not now introduce into the house for fear of "making a litter." The prudent citizen--who, having at the threatened approach of winter laid in a bountiful provision of wood and coal, put up his hall-stoves and his double windows, now feels quite ready, in the strength of anthracite and hickory, to snap his fingers in the face of Jack Frost, and bid him do his worst--is not more impatient to have the thermometer fall to the neighbourhood of zero, in order that he may realise the comforts he has paid for, than were we for the advent of such a storm, as would enable us to say to one another, "Ah! is it not fortunate that we have a roof over our heads? What should we do _now_, if we had not made timely preparation?" Well, at last we had our wish. A shower came up one day, in the afternoon, which did not cease in half an hour, as the previous ones had done. On the contrary, when darkness came on the rain still continued falling steadily, with no sign of abatement. Johnny was in ecstasies. This was evidently no night for camping out; it was a night to justify all our expenditure of labour, in planning and perfecting our dwelling. We hung up every extra mat, and fastened them securely with the store of wooden pegs and pins prepared for that purpose. To be sure, we were in complete darkness, but then we were perfectly snug and comfortable; and what a luxury, to lie sheltered from the storm, and listen to the pattering of the rain upon the root and the dismal sound of the water dripping from the eaves! The second morning after this rain-storm, which had so pleasantly tested the qualities of our dwelling, we started, under Max's guidance, to make an excursion to that part of the island, to the south-east of Castle-hill, of which he had given so glowing an account. After half an hour's toilsome march over uneven ground, we entered a grove, which, to Johnny's great exultation, was composed almost entirely of bread-fruit trees. They grew with much regularity, at almost equal distances, so as to form broad straight avenues, overarched by a canopy of spreading branches and dark glossy leaves. Vistas of shapely diamond-chequered trunks stretched away in every direction, in long and shady perspective. Among the dense masses of foliage, hung a profusion of large globes, of a light-delicate green, or a golden yellow, the splendid fruit of this noblest and most stately tree of the tropics. The ripe and the unripe fruit hung side by side from the same branches, and Johnny could hardly be persuaded to postpone gathering a supply of it until our return. Our course had been upon the whole rather an ascending one, so that this grove must have occupied an elevated situation. The ground over which it extended was nearly level, with slight wave-like undulations. As we approached its eastern limit, Max told us to prepare ourselves for the most charming spectacle that we had ever beheld. He walked on before with the air of a cicerone when about to exhibit a _chef d'oeuvre_, and stood waiting and beckoning for us at the border of the grove. On joining him we found that he had scarcely exaggerated in his descriptions of the spot. We stood at the top of a smooth and gradual descent. Before us lay a secluded valley, from which the land rose on every side, to about the elevation of the grove behind us. In some places it ascended in gentle slopes, in others by abrupt acclivities. In the bosom of the valley spread a little lake of oval form, fringed in some places with shrubbery, while in others, groups of casuarinas extended their long drooping boughs in graceful arches over the water. After pausing a moment we descended to the margin of the pond, which was so limpid that we could distinguish every pebble at the bottom. At the upper or northern end, and near the point at which we had come out of the grove, a small stream precipitated itself some fifteen feet down a rocky declivity, and fell into a circular basin a few yards in diameter. Overflowing this basin, it found its way into the lake by another descent of a few feet. Around the basin, and on both sides of the waterfall, were several curious columns of basalt, and irregular picturesque piles of basaltic rock. The plash of the water, falling into the rocky basin, was the only sound that broke the Sabbath-like silence that pervaded the valley. There was, or seemed to be, something unreal and dream-like about the scene, that made us pause where we stood, in silence, as though the whole were an illusion, which a word or a motion would dispel. "How beautiful!" exclaimed Browne, at last, and a soft clear echo, like the voice of the tutelary spirit of the valley, answered, "Beautiful!" "Hark!" cried Johnny, "what a charming echo. Listen again," and he shouted "Hurrah!" "Hurrah!" softly responded the echo, and almost in the same breath a harsh voice, apparently close at hand, and which was evidently not an echo, cried out, "Hillioh--oh!" We started, and gazed around us, and at each other, in astonishment, but we could see nothing from which this strange exclamation could proceed. "That," said Johnny, in a trembling whisper, and seizing Browne's hand, "that is the voice of the wild Frenchman I heard in the woods near Castle-hill." "Yes," answered Max, gravely, "who knows but there are cannibals here? You had better be careful, Johnny, how you hurrah in the woods." Max's manner made me suspect that he possessed some clue to the mystery which the rest of us lacked. "I don't care," answered Johnny, stoutly, while the apprehensive glances which he cast around on every side, hardly agreed with his valiant words, "I shall hurrah in spite of all the savages on the island." "Hillioh!--Hillioh!" yelled the same voice, more fiercely than before. Max burst into a fit of laughter, when following the direction of his eye, we looked up, and espied an enormous parrot perched upon a purau branch, directly over our heads, from which he eyed us with a disdainful and truculent air. "There's your wild Frenchman at last, Johnny," said Max, "I expect he'll call us to account presently for our treatment of his hat." "Don't give up de sheep!" screamed the parrot. "Come," said Max, "what's the use of trying to talk English: it's quite plain you're a Parly-vous." "Vive l'empereur!" shrieked the parrot. "No doubt you can give us a song, monsieur," pursued Max; "favour us with `Polly put the kettle on,' s'il vous plait." The bird twisted his head round, as though giving earnest attention to what was said; then, after a moment, which from his wise look seemed to be occupied in profoundly considering the reasonableness of the request, he burst forth with-- "Allons enfants de la Patrie Le jour de gloire est arrivee!" Shrieking out the two lines as though they composed a single word. Apparently satisfied with this display of his accomplishments, he spread his wings, and flew heavily across the lake, alighting not far from the shore, whence we could hear him occasionally uttering a shrill cry. "Do you see where the parrot is now?" inquired Morton of me, a moment afterwards. "Yes, I see his green feathers among the foliage, but not very distinctly." "Unless I am much mistaken," pursued he, "there is a shed or building of some kind among the trees, on the other side of the lake, where he has alighted." On shifting our ground a little, we could all perceive between the boughs of the trees, something, that did in fact look like a low wooden building, and after a moment's consultation, it was agreed that Morton and Max should cross the stream, (which could easily be done where it poured into the lake), and reconnoitre, while the rest awaited their report. By leaping from stone to stone, and wading occasionally for short distances, they picked their way to the other side, and presently disappeared among the casuarinas. After about fifteen minutes they returned to the shore, and called for us to come over, saying that they had discovered a building, which appeared, however, to have been long deserted. Browne took Johnny upon his back, and we forded the rapids as the others had done. Following Max and Morton, we soon reached a kind of landing-place, half-way between the lake and the top of the ascent, in the centre of which was a low wooden building, surrounded by a rude fence of pointed stakes. Entering through a gate, hung upon leather hinges, we found ourselves in front of the hut. It appeared to be built of timber which had once composed part of a ship, and was put together with considerable skill. The yard was full of rank weeds, and damp masses of lichen and moss hung from the eaves of the house, and covered its roof. The door, which was furnished with a lock and brass-handle, was closed, but not fastened; we opened it, and entered a large square-room, lighted by four windows, two of which had evidently been taken from the stern of a vessel; the remaining two seemed to have once constituted the upper parts of sash-doors. These windows were well put into the sides of the house, and from the appearance of all the work about the room, I inferred that it had been done by persons accustomed to that kind of labour. A pine-table, which had lost half of one leg, and two chairs without backs, composed the entire furniture of this apartment. A rude shelf was fastened against the wall between two of the windows, upon which a number of earthen-ware dishes were arranged. A smaller apartment was partitioned off with rough boards from the first, with which it communicated by a simple opening or doorway, without any door. In this second room were several low wooden frames, probably designed as bedsteads, ranged side by side, and a large chest stained or painted blue. In one corner stood a small square writing-table, of some dark-coloured wood, with several drawers. In another corner, Max discovered a rusty gridiron and sauce-pan, a small iron pot and a toasting-fork, upon which he pounced with the eagerness of a miser lighting upon hidden treasures. The chest was empty, but a small box, or till, fixed in one end of it, contained a number of vials, a cork-screw, a tin-canister, and a French Bible, upon the last of which Arthur seized with as much avidity as Max had evinced in appropriating the cooking utensils. Johnny pulled open the drawers of the little writing-table, and found a bunch of quills, a spool of green ribbon, a file of invoices and bills of lading, a bottle of ink, and about half a ream of letter-paper, which he declared was just what was wanted for the purpose of writing "our story." The place had a gloomy and deserted air, and we unanimously agreed that neither the dwelling nor its location was nearly as pleasant as our own at Castle-hill. There were several articles which we wished to carry away with us, but we concluded to postpone this until a future visit. Max, however, having once laid hold of the gridiron, seemed extremely loath to part with it again, and, finally yielding to the irresistible fascination which it evidently had for him, he threw it over his shoulder as we started on our return, and brought it away with him. Having been fastidiously purified by repeated scourings and ablutions, it proved very useful in preparing our meals, of which fresh fish frequently formed the principal part. In the evening, as we sat at the terraced top of Castle-hill, Johnny took seriously in hand the important business of finding appropriate names for the discoveries of the day. The valley beyond the grove of bread-fruit, he concluded to call "Echo Vale." For the lake itself, quite a variety of names was suggested, none of which, however, seemed to be entirely satisfactory. After puzzling over the subject a long while without any result, and working himself into quite a nervous and excited state, a happy thought seemed all at once to suggest itself and turning to Arthur, he eagerly demanded what was "the most beautiful lake in all the world?" "Loch Katrine, to be sure!" said Browne; "some would say Loch Lomond, but that is the second." "Lake George!" cried Max, decisively. "Lake Como, in Switzerland, is said to be, by the tourists and the poets," answered Arthur, to whom the question had been more particularly addressed. The last name seemed to please Johnny exceedingly, and after repeating it several times with approbation, he inquired of Arthur, "What it was that Olla, in the Cannibal story, called her pet wood-pigeon?" "Lai-evi," answered Arthur. "And you said that meant Little Captive," pursued Johnny with great animation, "and the `Lai' means `little,' I suppose?" "Yes, `Lai' is the diminutive." "Well, then, I have it at last! Our lake, though so small, is--" "Quite a Como for its size," interrupted Max, "and _so_ it shall be called--" "Lake Laicomo!" cried Johnny, exultingly. I am thus particular in mentioning these names, chiefly for the benefit of all persons engaged in the preparation of new editions of the school geographies and atlases; and I take this opportunity, at Johnny's especial request, to call their attention to the matter, in order that our island and its geographical dimensions may be accurately laid down and described in future works of the kind referred to. CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. THE REMOVAL. PREPARATIONS FOR THE RAINY SEASON--GOING INTO WINTER-QUARTERS--"MONSIEUR PAUL"--THE PATRIARCH OF THE LAKE. "Now Winter comes to rule the varied year, Sullen and sad, with all his gloomy train Of vapours, clouds, and storms." We had now been several months upon the island, and notwithstanding our constant watchfulness, we had not, during all this time, seen a single sail. Of the vast multitudes of vessels that track the ocean in every direction, not one had visited the solitary sea that lay within the boundaries of our horizon; or if any had crossed the verge of the wide circle, her coming and departure had been alike unobserved by us. And now, by a variety of indications, it was manifest that the winter of the tropical year was at hand. The steady easterly breezes, which, with occasional variations of south-easterly, had hitherto prevailed, were succeeded by violent and fickle winds, blowing sometimes from a dozen different and opposite points of the compass in the course of twenty-four hours. The brief and sudden showers which we had had at intervals for some time past gradually became more heavy and frequent. At length, one calm, sultry day, about noon, a storm, accompanied by thunder and lightning came up, with so little previous notice, that although Arthur and myself were at the time scarcely two hundred yards from the house, we were thoroughly drenched before we could reach it. And this proved to be no mere thunder shower, such as we had already been two or three times surprised by. Scarcely had we got under shelter, when the air grew so dark that it would really have been difficult to see one's way through the grove. I had never before witnessed any thing like this, and I began to fear that we were going to be visited by one of those terrible hurricanes which sometimes devastate tropical countries. The wind soon commenced blowing with such violence, that the largest and sturdiest of the old trees that surrounded our house, bent and swayed before its fury. Their tops lashed each other overhead, and filled the air with clouds of leaves, whirled away upon the tempest. Large boughs were twisted off like twigs, and strewed the ground in every direction. The creaking and groaning of the trees; the loud flapping of the palm-leaves, like that of a sail loose in the wind; the howling and shrieking of the gale, as it burst in quick, fierce gusts through the forest; with the almost total darkness that enveloped us, were truly appalling. The strength of our dwelling was now put to a severer test than its builders had ever anticipated, and it yielded to the force of the wind, so that at times the side-posts stood at an angle of forty-five degrees with the floor; had they been of any material less tough and pliant than the hibiscus, they must have snapped off in an instant. It was well, too, that they had been deeply and firmly planted in the ground, or the whole fabric would have been lifted bodily into the air, and swept away like a withered leaf. As it was, though wrenched and twisted woefully, it stood firm. The thatch, of which Arthur was so proud, and which had hitherto been storm-proof, now opened in many places, and a dozen little streams began to pour in upon us. Before night, the sound of running waters without was like that of a great spring freshet. Cataracts were leaping on every side from the edges of the height, and a raging and turbid torrent filled the gully that separated the forest from Castle-hill. The tempest continued for nearly forty-eight hours. By the time it was over, we had quite come to the conclusion, that if this was to be regarded as a foretaste and specimen, of what we had to expect during the rainy season, it would never do to think of remaining in our present habitation. Considering this as a timely warning, we resolved, after a formal consultation, to put the deserted cabin by the lake, forthwith into tenantable condition, so as to be ready to take up our winter-quarters there, if we should find it expedient to do so. On the first fine day, we commenced carrying this resolution into effect, knowing that we had now but little time to lose. The cabin had originally been built substantially, and with a good deal of skill, and it had suffered but little from decay. We had, in fact nothing to do in the way of repairing it, except to rehang the door, which was loose, and partially unhinged, and to mend the roof, which leaked in one or two places. We then cleared the yard from the rank weeds by which it was overgrown, aired the house thoroughly, by setting door and windows open for a day or two, and swept out both apartments with cocoa-nut brooms. We next, under Arthur's direction, commenced laying in a stock of provisions. Abundance of ripe bread-fruit could now be procured. We gathered a considerable quantity, which Arthur and Eiulo baked and pounded, and prepared, by burying it under ground, wrapped in leaves, in such a manner that it would keep, as they said, for several months. We also piled up in one corner of the small room, a great heap of cocoa-nuts, with the husks on, in which way they can be preserved fresh a long while. A bushel of candle-nuts, and about the same quantity of taro and patara roots, completed our winter supplies. Johnny was much dissatisfied with the poverty of these preparations for the rainy season. He thought we ought to have laid in a large stock of salted or smoked fish, besides catching a score or two of turtle, and depositing them safely upon their backs in some convenient place, ready to be converted into soup, at any moment by the magic of Max's culinary art. Arthur thought that we need not anticipate a season of continuous storms or steady rains--that though the prevailing weather for some months would be tempestuous, there would nevertheless be some fine days in nearly every week, during which we could venture forth. Another storm, as violent as the last, fully decided us to make the contemplated removal to the cabin, and that without further delay. Johnny transported thither his entire collection of shells, corals, etcetera, which had now grown to be quite extensive. Arthur carried over an armful of specimens of plants and flowers, which had long been accumulating for an "herbarium." Max, however, averred that they were a part of the materials for a treatise on "The Botany of Polynesia," which Arthur cherished the ambitious design of composing, and which was to be published with coloured plate, simultaneously with the history of our adventures. In order that he too might have some indoor occupation during the anticipated bad weather, Max provided himself with a huge log, hacked and sawed with great labour, from a bread-fruit tree, blown down in the last gale, out of which he declared it to be his purpose to build a miniature ship, destined to convey the aforesaid history, together with Arthur's botanical treatise, to America. The day fixed for our final migration to "Lake Laicomo," at length arrived, and taking a farewell for "the season," of our deserted tenement at Castle-hill, we set out for the cabin, to spend our first night there. It was not without some feelings of regret that we left a spot now become so familiar, to bury ourselves in the woods out of sight of the sea. It seemed almost like going again into exile. Johnny, in particular, felt greatly humiliated, at being obliged to abandon the house which had cost us so much toil, to take refuge in one constructed by others. He seemed to look upon this as a kind of tacit admission of our own utter incapacity to provide for ourselves in that respect. On arriving at the cabin, we were somewhat surprised to see our democratic friend the parrot, perched over the door, as if waiting to welcome us to our new quarters. He appeared to be in no degree disturbed at our approach, but greeting us with one or two boisterous "Vive Napoleons!" maintained his position until we had passed into the house, when he flew in also, and alighting on the shelf against the wall, seemed to feel as much at home as any one. Johnny sagely suggested that he knew that the rainy season was coming on, and was anxious to establish himself in comfortable quarters until it was over: possibly this supposition did our visitor injustice, by ascribing to him motives more selfish and interested, than those by which he was really actuated. It is more charitable to believe, that having been once accustomed to human companionship, and being weary of his solitary life in the woods, where his vocal accomplishments were wasted on the desert air, he now sought our society, as being more congenial to his tastes and education, than that of the feathered denizens of the forest. Be this however as it may, "Monsieur Paul," (as he called himself), from that time took up his abode with us, and though he would sometimes disappear for days together, he was sure to come back at last, when, if he found the door and windows closed, (as sometimes happened), he would scream, and hurrah for "Sheneral Shackson," until he gained admittance. One circumstance, which I am sorry to say throws some shade of suspicion upon the pure disinterestedness of his motives, is, that he generally went off at the commencement of fine weather, and returned a little before a storm. This was so uniformly the case, that Max used to prophesy the character of the weather by his movements, and often, when to our eyes there was not the slightest indication of a change, he would say--"There comes Monsieur--look-out for a storm presently"--and it was rarely that he proved mistaken in such predictions. The second day after our removal, there was a gale, in which great trees were blown down or torn up by the roots. Though shaken by the force of the wind, the cabin was too firmly built to permit any apprehension of its being overthrown; and there were no trees of large size near it, by the fall of which it could be endangered: but we should scarcely have felt safe in our former dwelling. We now improved every pleasant day to the utmost, in completing our preparations for the period of heavy rains, which Arthur declared to be close at hand. Browne and Morton made a fish-pond by building a dam of loose stones across the rapids below the fall, just where the stream entered the lake. It was soon well-stocked, without any trouble on our part, with fish resembling roach and perch, numbers of which were carried over the fall, and prevented by the dam from escaping into the lake. We also collected a large quantity of bread-fruit bark, and of the fibrous netting which binds the stalk of the cocoa-nut leaf to the trunk, to be worked up in various ways. This singular fabric, which in texture somewhat resembles coarse cotton cloth, is often obtained from the larger trees in strips two or three feet wide. It is strong and durable, and is used by the natives for making bags, and for other similar purposes. Garments too, are sometimes made from it, though for that purpose tappa is preferred. While the leaves are young and tender, this remarkable substance is white and transparent, quite flexible, and altogether a delicate and beautiful fabric, but not sufficiently strong to be put to any useful purpose: as it becomes older and tougher, it assumes a yellow colour, and loses much of its flexibility and beauty. A quantity of hibiscus bark was also collected, to be used in the manufacture of cord for fishing-lines, nets, etcetera. While the rest of us were actively engaged, under Arthur's direction, in accumulating a stock of these materials, Max devoted all his energies to the task of capturing an enormous eel which frequented the upper end of the lake. But he exhausted all his ingenuity in this endeavour without success. The monster had a secure retreat among the submerged roots of an old buttress tree, beneath an overhanging bank, from which Max daily lured him forth by throwing crumbs into the water; but, after devouring the food that was thrown to him, he would immediately return to his stronghold under the bank. Max was at great pains to manufacture a fish-hook out of a part of a cork-screw found in the till of the blue chest, by means of which he confidently expected to bring matters to a speedy and satisfactory issue between himself and his wary antagonist. But the latter would not touch the bait that concealed the hook. Driven to desperation by this unexpected discomfiture, Max next made sundry attempts to spear and "harpoon" him, all of which signally failed, so that at the end of the brief interval of fine weather, this patriarch of the lake, whose wisdom seemed to be proportioned to his venerable age and gigantic size, remained proof against all the arts and machinations of his chagrined and exasperated enemy. CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN. WINTER EVENINGS AT HOME. AMUSEMENTS AND OCCUPATIONS--STORY-TELLING--THE SOUTH-SEA LYCEUM. "When the winter nights grow long, And the winds without blow cold, We sit in a ring round the warm wood fire, And listen to stories old." Having now brought my story down to the period of our getting into winter-quarters at Lake Laicomo, (where, during the last few weeks, the foregoing portion of this narrative has been written), I shall change my tenses, for the present chapter at least, while I sketch the occupations and amusements by which we endeavour to fill up the time of our imprisonment. The rainy season is now nearly over, and we have got through it much more comfortably and pleasantly than we anticipated. The few fine days during which we finished our preparations for it, as mentioned in the last chapter, were succeeded, in accordance with Arthur's prediction, by more than a week of steady rain, and for several weeks there was not a day without rain. During this time, of course, we were thrown entirely upon our indoor resources, and, thanks to the forethought which had provided an abundant store of materials, upon which the ingenuity or industry of each of us could be variously exercised, we have thus far managed to keep pretty busy. We have twisted a great store of cord for fishing-lines, nets, and other purposes, from the supply of hibiscus bark previously laid in. We have also manufactured more than a dozen pairs of serviceable moccasins, with no other materials than cocoa-nut cotton and bread-fruit bark. Browne has made a chess-board, and rudely but elaborately carved a complete set of men, of gigantic size, in which he has evinced much skill and ingenuity, and a vast deal of perseverance. The castles are mounted upon the backs of elephants, which Johnny innocently mistook for enormous swine with two tails apiece. The knights are provided with shields, bearing Saint Andrew's cross and the thistle for a device, and would have been arrayed, without doubt, in kilt and tartan had it been possible. The bishops wear grotesque-looking cocked hats, intended for mitres, and their countenances are so singularly truculent and unprepossessing, that Max accuses the artist of having in this petty way, evinced "his Scottish and Presbyterian spite against Episcopacy." Morton has, among other things, made a couple of nets, and a mortar and pestle for pounding bread-fruit and taro. Max's time and attention have been chiefly devoted to the manufacture of a variety of warlike weapons, among which are four or five formidable bludgeons, which he styles "Feejee war-clubs," made from the hard and ponderous wood of the casuarina. He has also worked a good deal, at intervals, upon the huge log, out of which the "Messenger ship" is to be constructed. Arthur has been more usefully employed in contriving two frames or stands, designed as candlesticks for holding the native substitute for candles, which substitute consists simply of a cocoa-nut stalk, some eighteen inches long, strung with candle-nuts. These nuts are of about the size of a horse-chestnut, and contain a considerable quantity of oil: they are the fruit of one of the largest and most magnificent trees of our island. One nut will burn from five to ten minutes, according to its size, and if they are pressed closely together upon the stalk, the flame communicates readily from one to another, affording a tolerably clear and steady light until the entire string is consumed. To supply the place of Johnny's jacket and trousers, which are completely worn out, Arthur has made, from two or three large strips of cocoa-nut cotton, a garment resembling the South American "poncho," being a loose wrapper, with a circular aperture through which the head of the wearer is to be thrust. It is by no means an elegant article of apparel, and Johnny was at first inclined to look upon it with disfavour. But upon being informed that it was in all respects, except the material of which it was made, like the "tiputa," formerly worn by the Tahitian chiefs and men of note, he became fully reconciled to it. These, (which I mention merely as a sample of our industrial labours), and similar tasks, furnish us occupation during the day. As soon as it gets dark, we set out the broken-legged table in the middle of the room, and lighting three or four skewers of candle-nuts, amuse or employ ourselves in a variety of ways. Browne and Morton frequently sit down to a game of chess, or seizing a couple of Max's "Feejee war-clubs," practise the broad-sword exercise, in which Browne, who has some skill in fencing, occasionally gives lessons to the rest. Arthur has opened an evening-school, in which he teaches Eiulo reading and writing, and gives Johnny instruction in botany and conchology, using his "herbarium," and Johnny's collection of shells, for the purpose of illustration. He also writes a good deal, and asks Eiulo many questions respecting the customs, ceremonies, and traditions of Tewa. Occasionally, during such conversations, when he makes a note of something new or striking, Max laughs, and says, that in addition to the great work on the botany of Polynesia, Arthur designs to enlighten the world with a learned treatise on the "Traditions and Superstitions of the South-Sea Islanders." Johnny either re-arranges his "collection," or plays jack straws with Eiulo, or devotes himself to the education of the parrot. As for me, I have hitherto amused myself during the evenings in writing up "the narrative," and occasionally reading portions of it aloud, claiming, however, the privilege of skipping such passages as I think proper. It having been solemnly resolved that the "history of our adventures" must be written in the form of a "regular desert island story," to use Johnny's expression, and divided into chapters, Max insists that the commencement of each chapter should be furnished with a poetical motto, and offers, in the capacity of a dictionary of quotations, to furnish scraps of rhyme for that purpose, to order, in any quantity required, and at the shortest notice, upon merely being informed of the sentiment with which the motto is desired to harmonise. After hearing the narrative thus far, with the exception of such portions as I have thought proper to omit, Max expresses strong distrust of my fairness and impartiality as a historian. He accuses me in particular, of having done him injustice by omitting some of his most remarkable exploits, as well as many brilliant sayings upon a great variety of subjects. He declares that I do not understand and appreciate him--that I am incapable of doing so; and that I have unjustly, though perhaps unintentionally, represented him as a trifling, light-minded sort of person. I have, therefore, felt bound to record this protest of the injured party, but having just read it to him, he pronounces it unsatisfactory, and an aggravation of the original wrong. Sometimes, as a variation of our evening amusements, we put out the lights, and sit and tell stories in the dark. Browne's memory is stored with an unfailing supply of marvellous tales and legends, founded upon Scottish history and tradition, or the habits and superstitions of the people; some relate to wraiths, warnings, second sight, etcetera; some illustrate the prowess of Scottish heroes and worthies, from Bruce and Wallace, right down to Johnny Armstrong and Rob Roy Macgregor; others, again, are wild and tragical tales of covenanting times, or of the sufferings endured, and the dangers encountered by his countrymen, for their religious faith, from the time of the murder of "holy Patrick Hamilton, the first Scottish martyr," to the forays of prelatical moss-troopers, and the butcheries of Claverhouse, in later days. The chief point of all Browne's narratives, however various their subjects, is to illustrate the superiority of Scotland, and every thing Scottish, from martyrs to mendicants, and from heroes to highwaymen, over all the rest of the world in general, and the sister kingdom in particular. I was greatly amused by one of his stories, which related how a Scottish border-robber outwitted and plundered an English professional brother. In his patriotic resolution to uphold the superiority of his country in all respects, Browne was not even willing to allow that the pilferers and marauders south of the Tweed, could at all compare in address and audacity, with those who enjoyed the advantage of having been bred to the north of it. Max, too, was, (at least in Johnny's estimation), a famous story-teller, almost equal in fact to Schehezerade, of the Thousand and One Nights. His stories, however, were of an entirely different character from those of Browne. They had no savour of historic or traditionary truth,--no relation to actual life,--and in this consisted their great charm. Their subject matter, was the wonderful exploits of bold knights-errant, sallying forth, attended by their trusty esquires, in search of high adventures; their chivalrous encounters with other knights in mortal quarrel, or for the honours of the tourney; their incredible feats of strength and valour in the rescue of captive maidens, wandering princesses, and distressed damsels, from all sorts of unheard-of perils, and in the redress of all manner of grievances, by whomsoever suffered. In his more romantic flights he described exploits yet more perilous than these,--conflicts with giants and ogres,--the storming and demolishing of enchanted castles, defended by scaly griffins, and fire-breathing dragons, backed by the potent spells and incantations of some hostile magician. To such narratives Johnny would willingly listen by the hour. Any trifling anachronisms or inconsistencies, which sometimes occurred, never troubled him in the least. If some of Max's knights, equipped with sword and shield, and sheathed in mail, were also expert at fire-arms, and handled a rifle or a revolver, like a Kentuckian, Johnny respected and admired them all the more on account of these varied accomplishments, and never troubled the narrator with any vexatious demand for explanations. At first Max had been greatly piqued at the slight interest which Johnny seemed to feel in the fate of his heroes. The fact was, that he had become so familiar with that department of literature, and was so accustomed to see the hero come safely out of the most horrible and unheard-of dangers, that he regarded it as quite a matter of course, and there was now no such thing as alarming him for his safety. It was to no purpose that Max surrounded his heroes with fierce and numerous foes; Johnny took it quite coolly, expecting him to cut his way out as a hero should. It was in vain to cover him with wounds--a hero's wounds are never mortal. Cast him away upon an iron-bound coast in the midst of a hurricane--Johnny knew that _one_ would escape: drown a hero! who ever heard of such a thing! Max at length resented this indifference, by suddenly becoming quite tragical, and actually despatching two or three heroes with very little ceremony. The first of these unfortunate gentlemen perished, if I remember correctly, by "a tremendous backstroke of a two-handed, double-edged sword, that severed his head from his body." At this sentence, which seemed pretty decisive, Johnny was somewhat staggered, but, immediately recovering himself, he bade Max "go on," expecting, I verily believe, that it would turn out that the head was not in fact _quite_ cut off or that if it was, it would, like that of the physician Dubin, in the Arabian Nights, be again set upon the shoulders, and life restored by the healing virtue of some potent medicament. Great was his astonishment and consternation, on being made at last to comprehend, that the hero was actually dead; which fact he did not, however, appear fully to realise, until Max, to put the matter beyond doubt, buried him with great funereal pomp and ceremony, and erected over his remains a splendid monument, with an inscription recording his exploits and his valour. This method of proceeding, Max judiciously followed up, by giving a tragical termination to his romances, often enough to keep Johnny reminded that _his_ heroes at any rate were mortal. In addition to these resources for our evenings, we have the semi-weekly meetings of "The South-Sea Lyceum," which was organised soon after the commencement of the rainy season, and of which Arthur is the president having been twice unanimously elected to that dignified and responsible office. Recitations or declamations, essays, and debates upon questions previously selected, constitute the regular exercises at these meetings. Browne possesses quite a talent for dramatic recitation, and he has Shakespeare almost by heart, which circumstances, early on the voyage out, earned for him the nickname of "Shaks." At nearly every session of the "Lyceum," he is either among the regular appointees for a recitation, or is called out by acclamation for a voluntary one. Max shines chiefly in debate, in which he is always ready to take either side, of any question. Indeed he sometimes speaks on both sides of the same question, and displays his ingenuity by refuting his own arguments. These meetings have thus far been exceedingly pleasant, and on many a night when the driving rain was beating upon roof and window, and the wind was howling dismally around our solitary cabin, all has seemed bright and cheerful within, as Max and Morton carried on a spirited debate, or Browne declaimed Wolsey's soliloquy, or "To be, or not to be, that is the question." The minutes of one meeting of the Lyceum may answer as a sample of their entertainments:-- Recitation, (by Johnny), Lines supposed to have been written by Alexander Selkirk, "I am monarch of all I survey," etcetera. Recitation, (by Browne), Clarence's Dream. Essay, (by the President), on the traditions of a Deluge, to be found among the Polynesian tribes. Essay, (by myself), The theory of the formation and structure of Coral Islands. Debate. Question: Is childhood the happiest period of human life? Affirmative maintained by Max, negative by Morton. Summing up of the arguments by the President and decision by him in the negative. Reading of the Polynesian Intelligencer, by the Editor, (Max). Recitation, (by Eiulo), a Tewan War-song, in the original. After the first protracted rain was over, there were frequent intervals of fine weather, which lasted sometimes several days. But we found on going forth, that a change had taken place in the condition of things, which rendered any long excursion, even during these intervals, entirely out of the question. Considerable streams poured down from the higher ground toward the interior, and traversed the island at short distances, presenting formidable barriers to all travelling. The ground was everywhere so miry that it was difficult to avoid sinking above the ankles at every step. As the season advanced it became still worse, and at length we confined ourselves almost entirely to the house. Lately, however, there has been a very perceptible improvement; the rains have become lighter, and less frequent, and the season is evidently drawing towards its close. We are already discussing our plans for the summer, and have resolved upon a thorough exploration of the island, as soon as the fine weather has been long enough established to remove the effects of the heavy rains. CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT. THE SEPARATION. OUR SECLUSION INVADED--SPRING IN THE TROPICS--THE EXCURSION AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. "Reviving Nature bounds as from her birth: The sun is in the heavens, and life on earth; Flowers in the valley, splendour in the beam, Health in the breeze, and freshness in the stream." I resume my narrative, under circumstances widely different from those in which the preceding chapter was written. The events of the last few days have completely changed the aspect of affairs in our little world. The peace, the seclusion, the security, with which in our minds it had hitherto been invested, exist no longer. Our quiet life, so free from vicissitudes and alarms, as to seem almost monotonous, has been rudely broken into, and in a few days we are to take a step which cannot fail to be attended with consequences momentous to us, but whether fraught with good or evil, it is impossible to foresee. This, however, is anticipating the regular course of events. It is scarcely credible, how short a time after the cessation of the rains, sufficed to remove every trace of their effects. Three or four days of sunshine seemed to restore things to nearly the condition, in which we found them on first reaching the island. It is true the vegetation now had a fresher look than before, and slender brooks still murmured through ravines usually dry; the lake, too, formerly so limpid, was somewhat discoloured by the turbid streams running into it from the surrounding heights; but the standing pools of water had evaporated, and the ground had, in most places, become once more firm and dry. As soon as the weather was fairly established, we made several excursions in various directions, though not to any considerable distance. On visiting Castle-hill, we found nothing left of our house there, except the foundation; the entire framework, having been swept away by the wind. A large candle-nut tree, just before the door, had been struck by lightning, and the blasted and blackened trunk, sadly marred the beauty of the spot. Arthur had selected a favourable location on the margin of the lake near the fish-pond, for a taro and patara patch; and we spent several days in ransacking the neighbouring woods for roots, with which to stock it. Yams, we had not yet succeeded in finding, though they are indigenous in most of the Polynesian islands, and we had made diligent search for them in the localities where they are usually found. One fine morning, soon after the cessation of the rains, Arthur proposed an expedition into the interior, following the course of the stream upward towards its source. In addition to the general object of exploration, he had in view the discovery of the much-coveted vegetable last-mentioned, there being one large variety of it, which is found growing wild among the mountains, or upon the sides of the hills of the interior. All received the suggestion with cordial approval, being particularly pleased with the proposed route, along the banks of the brook. Johnny, exulting in his recovered liberty, after the long imprisonment of the winter, and anticipating all sorts of wonderful discoveries in the vegetable, floral, and ornithological departments, at once enlisted Eiulo and himself as members of the party of exploration. As we were about to enter a region, with the resources of which, in the way of provisions, we knew nothing, we considered it a measure of wise precaution to fortify ourselves against the fatigues of the journey, by a hearty breakfast of broiled fish and roasted taro. This important duty having been conscientiously attended to, our remaining preparations occupied but little time, and we set out at an early hour. Johnny, equipped with his longest bow, and an abundant stock of arrows, in readiness for the appearance of anything in the shape of a jackal or a tiger-cat, marched valiantly in advance, while Eiulo, in the capacity of armour-bearer, or trusty esquire, followed, carrying his cutlass. Next, carefully surveying the ground we passed over, came Arthur, with a bag upon his arm, and a basket of cocoa-nut leaflets in his hand, ready for the reception of the yams, when found, and of all sorts of roots, plants, and botanical specimens, that might be discovered in the meantime. Max was armed to the teeth, as though in preparation for a pitched battle. By his side, in a belt of hibiscus bark, was stuck his cutlass: in one hand he carried a "spear," and in the other, one of his "Feejee war-clubs." Morton and myself were provided with a cutlass apiece; and Browne, without having encumbered himself even to that extent, strolled leisurely along with his hands in his pockets, whistling "blue-bonnets over the border." It was now the spring of the tropical year: the deciduous trees were renewing their verdure, and were covered with young shoots, and bursting leaf-buds. Even the evergreens--though they change but little throughout the year, and the old leaves and the new, the blossoms and the ripe fruit, may be seen upon the same tree at almost every season, looked brighter and fresher than before the rains. The earth was carpeted with beautiful grasses, mingled with tufts of moss, and bunches of fern. Blue and white flowers were scattered about almost as profusely as the "pinkster blossoms," in April, in the woods at home; and in sheltered places, the modest cape-jasmine was beginning to unfold its fragrant leaves. A delightful freshness filled the air, and there was as yet, at this early hour, nothing to remind us that we were beneath the fervent skies of the burning zone. Rejoicing and exhilarated at finding himself in the woods once more, Johnny ran furiously hither and thither, closely attended by Eiulo, gathering wild-flowers, ferns and mosses; chasing bugs, beetles, and butterflies; and letting fly his arrows at every unfortunate member of the feathered community that came within the range of his archery. In every thicket and almost at every step, he came upon something to call forth the most boisterous exclamations of surprise or delight. He was manifestly in the state of mind declared by the poet to be so eminently happy and desirable-- "To all exhilarating influences, Of earth and heaven alive!" Scarcely a moment passed, that he did not come running all aglow and out of breath to Arthur, with eager questions about something or other which he had just seen, and then dash off again into the forest without waiting for a reply, where fresh explosions of admiration or wonder, would soon announce new, and if possible, still more astounding discoveries. The shores of the stream were picturesque and varied. For the first half-mile from our starting-point, it wound between smooth grassy banks, adorned with scattered clumps of trees. It then entered a dense wood, where its channel was a rugged ravine, inclosed between steep rocks of black basalt. Here, the scraggy, ill-conditioned trees were crowded together, and overgrown with gigantic creepers. The branches, reaching across from the opposite shores, were interlaced and matted into thick masses, almost excluding the light of day. Max here displayed his agility, by laying hold of a long bough which extended from bank to bank, and walking "hand over hand" across the stream that flowed darkly and sluggishly some twelve or fifteen feet below. We were an hour at the least, in toiling through this tangled wood, though it did not extend more than half a mile. After leaving it behind us, frequent rapids showed that we were steadily ascending as we proceeded. Birds, such as we had not before seen on the island, and which reminded me of some of my old acquaintances of the New England woods, perched upon the trees, or flew familiarly around us. One or two, of the woodpecker tribe, looked wonderfully natural and home-like, as they sat industriously drumming upon hollow logs. Another, a small, brown bird, with modest plumage, surprised and delighted me, by a clear, full whistle, that sounded not unlike that of our own robin redbreast. We also saw numbers of a species of pigeon with black bills, slate-coloured bodies, and a ruff of white feathers about the neck. One of these Johnny brought down with his bow, besides wounding very seriously, (as he alleged), a considerable number of others. The woodpeckers and whistlers enjoyed a temporary immunity from his formidable shafts, reluctantly granted them at my intercession in their behalf, on the score of old associations. About an hour before noon we reached a spot where the stream was divided by a rocky islet, around which it spread out like a small lake. A grove, of a very peculiar appearance, and seeming to consist of a single tree, sheltered and overspread the entire spot. Here we concluded to halt, beginning by this time to feel quite tired, and inclined to rest. The water was shallow at this point, and Max wading over to the little island, presently called upon us to follow him if we wished to behold "a veritable banyan tree." Whether a banyan or not, (Arthur pronounced it to be a species of barren fig), it was certainly a wonderful specimen of vegetation. The main trunk, springing up in the centre of the islet, was nearly three feet in diameter. At the height of some fifteen feet from the ground, large branches extended horizontally in every direction. From these branches, at regular intervals, pendulous, vine-like shoots sprouted and grew downwards until they reached the ground, where they took root, and gradually increasing in size formed new trunks or pillars, to support a further extension of the branches. This process of growth had gone on until the tree had overrun the entire island, resembling a flat roof of green branches, resting upon rows of columns. Some of the perpendicular shoots had not yet reached the ground, others had just taken root, and were slender and flexible, while many of the older ones rivalled the parent stem in size, and could not easily be distinguished from it. While we rested here, a pair of the little brown songsters alighted among the branches of the "banyan," and entertained us with a vocal performance, in which they took up the strain alternately, responding to each other, and occasionally uniting in a chorus. Max now declared himself savagely hungry, and commenced exploring the neighbourhood in search of something eatable. But no fruit-bearing trees were to be found, and he returned from his foraging expedition protesting that the country was a perfect desert, and declaring that he for one would not proceed a step farther until he took up the line of march for home. We were all of the opinion that we had done enough for one day, and it was agreed that, after resting ourselves a short time, we should commence our return. Meantime, Arthur caught sight of some trees upon a ridge of land a short distance further up the stream, whose foliage resembled, as he thought, that of the "auti," or cloth plant. Saying that he would return in a few moments, he walked along the west bank of the brook in the direction of the ridge, followed by Johnny and Eiulo, who seemed as animated and unwearied as ever. Presently they turned a bend in the stream, and we lost sight of them. For lack of more interesting occupation, I began to count the stems of the grove-tree. There were seventeen, of large size, and a great number of smaller ones. Max discovered a deep pool at the lower end of the islet, in which were a number of fish, marked like yellow perch: and as he had a fishing-line of Eiulo's manufacture, in his pocket he amused himself by angling, using wood-beetles for bait. Morton and Browne hunted up four flat stones, and commenced pitching quoits. After half an hour passed in these various ways, we began to wonder at Arthur's long delay, and to grow impatient for his return. I had counted every stem of the banyan-fig, great and small. Max had become quite disgusted with angling for fish, which were too wary, or too well-fed, to favour him with even a nibble. Browne, after being beaten for five successive games, had very naturally lost his interest in the sport, and tossed his quoits into the brook. Another half-hour passed, and still the absentees failed to make their appearance. Max now professed to be suffering from the pangs of hunger, and longed for the sight even of the much-abused cocoa-nut tree. At last our patience being utterly exhausted, we resolved to go in search of Arthur and his suite, whose protracted absence greatly surprised us. On reaching the point, or bend, behind which they had disappeared, we hallooed loudly, but there was no answer. As we proceeded, the ground became very rough and broken, and the bed of the brook was full of loose rocks. A little further on, the noise of a waterfall was heard, and after one or two more turns, we reached a spot where the stream leaped down a precipice some twenty feet. Our further progress in the direction we were pursuing was barred by a wall of rock; an active and fearless climber might, it is true, have scaled it by the aid of the stunted shrubs and jutting crags upon its face, but we knew that Arthur accompanied by Eiulo and Johnny, could not have passed on by any such route. Proceeding to the left, along the foot of the precipice, and pausing at short intervals to repeat our halloos, we at last reached a wide fissure in the rock, by scrambling through which we gained the higher level. This was in all probability a part of the ridge which Arthur had seen from the islet. We now returned along the brow of the precipice until we came to the waterfall, where we shouted again, but still without getting any answer. To push the search further in this direction seemed useless, for it was morally certain that Arthur would not have continued beyond this point up the stream; the understanding with which he had left us, forbade any such supposition. We began now to feel alarmed, and to fear that some accident had befallen them, though of what nature we were at a loss to conjecture. Morton suggested the possibility that they had taken the opposite bank of the brook, and that while we were looking for them, they might have returned to the islet. This seemed not improbable, and striving hard to convince ourselves that it must be so, we regained the lower level by the same pass through which we had ascended, and hastened along the base of the height, and down the shore of the stream till we reached the islet again. But our companions were not there. Still, they might have returned during our absence, and supposing that we had started homeward, proceeded after us. We were greatly perplexed what course to pursue. If we delayed our return much longer, we should not be able to reach the cabin before night set in: the wilderness around seemed to contain nothing that could serve as food, and we should have to fast as long as we remained in it. Then, too, our waiting longer could be of no benefit to the others, even if they had not yet returned to the islet. Upon finding us gone, they would know at once that we had set out for home, and there was no possibility of their mistaking their way thither. We concluded, accordingly, to return without further delay. Browne cut a stout stick, and planted it in the sand at the margin of the brook, arranging a number of large pebbles at its foot, in the form of a hand, with the index finger pointing homeward. We then set out at a brisk pace, with some hope, but little actual expectation, of overtaking our companions on the war. We soon reached the thick wood with its matted undergrowth, and the old and knotted vines twining like enormous reptiles around the trunks of the trees; and so slow was our progress through it, that, when we emerged into the open country, it was nearly sunset. The remaining distance was more rapidly accomplished. As we drew nigh to the cabin, I began to look anxiously for the appearance of the missing ones. Each moment I expected to see Johnny rushing towards us with a laughing boast of having "beaten us home." But no one came forth to meet us, and I thought that the valley had never before looked so lonely. It was not, however, entirely deserted. The parrot was perched in solitary state upon the eaves of the cabin, and as we opened the gate, he flapped his wings, and croaked forth in dismal tones a sentence which Johnny, little dreaming of its present application, had been at much pains to teach him:--"Poor Paul's lonesome!" he cried, "they're all gone--all gone!" CHAPTER TWENTY NINE. THE SEARCH. HOME SWEET HOME--MAX ON MOONLIGHT--FOLLOWING A TRAIL--THE CONCEALED CANOE. "Where'er thou wanderest, canst thou hope to go Where skies are brighter, or the earth more fair? Dost thou not love these aye-blue streams that flow, These spicy forests, and this golden air? "O yes! I love these woods, these streams so clear, Yet from this fairy region I would roam, Again to see my native hills--thrice dear! And seek that country, of all countries,--Home." Max hastened to collect fuel, and kindle a fire, in order to prepare some food. Assuming, as usual, the entire superintendence and control of the culinary department, and every thing connected therewith, he set Browne to work washing and scraping tara-roots, despatched me after a fresh supply of fuel, and sent Morton with the hand-net down to the fish-pond to take out a couple of fish for a broil. But while thus freely assigning tasks to the rest of us, with the composed air of one accustomed to the exercise of unquestioned authority, he by no means shrunk from his own fair share of the work; and having got the fire burning cleverly by the time that Morton returned with the fish, he rolled up his sleeves, and with an air of heroic fortitude, commenced the necessary, but somewhat unpleasant process of cleaning them. Night had now set in, but the sky being perfectly clear, and the moon at her full, it was scarcely darker than at early twilight. Max seemed to prolong his culinary operations to the utmost, either from pure love of the employment, or with the still lingering hope, that our companions might yet arrive in time to partake of our supper. At last however, it became apparent that the cookery could not, without serious detriment, be longer protracted. The bursting skin of the taro revealed the rich mealy interior, and eloquently proclaimed its readiness to be eaten. The fish were done to a turn, and filled the cabin with a savoury odour, doubly grateful to our nostrils after a twelve hours' fast. Max declared with a sigh, that another moment upon the gridiron would ruin them, and he was reluctantly compelled to serve up the repast without further delay, when, notwithstanding our growing anxiety on account of Arthur's absence, we made a hearty meal. After feeding Monsieur Paul, and setting by some food in readiness for our companions when they should arrive, as we still hoped they would do in the course of the evening, we went out to a spot above the cascade, where Morton and Browne had arranged some rude fragments of basalt, so as to form a semicircle of seats, which, if less comfortable than well-cushioned arm-chairs would have been, might at any rate be considered in decidedly better "rural taste," and in more harmonious keeping with the character of the surrounding scene. From this point we could trace the windings of the brook for some distance in one direction, while below us, in the opposite one, spread the moonlit lake, reflecting in its mirror-like surface the dark masses of foliage that fringed its shores. It was one of those tranquil, dreamy nights, known only in tropical countries. A subtle fragrance of fresh buds and blossoms filled the air. The light streamed in a silvery flood upon the tufted tops of the groves; while in the solemn shade beneath, the serried trunks reared themselves in long ranks, like the grey columns of some Gothic ruin. As we sat listening to the murmur of the waterfall, the rustling of the trees, and the distant and muffled booming of the surf, I fell into a dreamy reverie, which was at length dissipated by Browne's voice-- "Can any thing be more beautiful than this scene at this moment!" exclaimed he, "and yet I do not know when I have experienced such a weariness of it all--such an intense longing for home, as I feel to-night." "I shall begin to believe in mesmeric sympathy," said Morton, "I was myself just thinking of home. Home, sweet home!" and he heaved a long-drawn sigh. Yes! the charm and illusion of our island life had long ended. We were tired of tropical luxuriance, and eternal summer. Glowing skies, and landscapes like a picture, had almost ceased to gratify even the eye. I longed for a glimpse of a rugged New England hill once more. A gnarled New England oak, though stripped by wintry winds of every leaf, would be a sight more grateful to me, than all those endless groves of waving palms. "I cannot believe," resumed Browne, "that we are destined to waste our days in this lonely spot, elysium as it is, of external beauty. We have faculties and desires, which can find no scope here, and which are perishing for lack of exercise. Still it is possible. But it is a dreary, dreary thought! I can now feel the pathos of the words of the ancient mariner on coming in sight of his native land-- "`Oh dream of joy! is this indeed The light-house top I see? Is this the hill? is this the kirk?-- Is this mine own countree? "`We drifted o'er the harbour bar And I with sobs did pray-- O let me be awake, my God! Or let me sleep away!'" Browne recited the lines with a power and feeling, that affected even the matter-of-fact Morton; Max hastened to show that he was above being so easily moved. "All this comes," cried he, "of lying here under the trees in the moonlight. Moonlight certainly has a tendency to make people melancholy and sentimental; it also makes them do foolish things. The most absurd and unreasonable notions I ever entertained, came into my head by moonlight, and wouldn't go away. Only twenty-five minutes ago, we were quite a rational, practical set of persons, eating our supper, (a well-cooked supper, too, though I say it myself), with a keen appetite, like Christians. And now, we have fallen to sighing and quoting poetry, and Browne waxes quite pathetic at the touching thought of getting a glimpse once more, of the smoky chimneys of Glasgow! Finally, I have nearly caught the infection myself, and unless I escape out of the moonlight presently, I dare say I also shall become quite lack-a-daisical, and commence a poetical apostrophe to my native village of Hardscrabble--or rather to plump little Susan Somers, my first love, at the `madam's' school, who affected my weak mind and susceptible heart to that extent, that in her bewildering presence my tongue clave to the roof of my mouth, while I grew red in the face like a perplexed turkey gobbler. But what _can_ have become of Arthur and the rest? Unless something had happened to them, they must have returned before now." A little before midnight we retired to the cabin to sleep, having first agreed, that in the morning three of us should proceed up the stream again, to make a thorough search for our companions, the fourth remaining behind until near noon, when, if the absentees had not yet returned, he should set out to join the others at the islet below the falls, which we fixed upon as the rendezvous. In the morning, lots were drawn to determine which of us should remain at the cabin, and that duty fell to Morton. The rest of us, having armed ourselves, and prepared a supply of taro and bread-fruit, sufficient, as we supposed, for several days, set out, soon after sunrise. Our progress was much more rapid than it had been when we first went over the ground, as we now had a definite object in view, and pressed steadily forward, without allowing any thing to interrupt or delay us. In an hour and a half after starting, we came in sight of the islet. Opposite it was the stake which Browne had planted in the sand, just as we had left it. We pushed on up the stream to the cascade, and crossing to the right bank, we began to skirt the base of the rocky wall on that side, looking carefully around for some traces of our companions. We had proceeded in this way, about one hundred yards from the brook, when I picked up one of Johnny's arrows in a tuft of fern. This was conclusive evidence that we were upon the right track. A little farther on, was a piece of marshy ground, and here we made a startling discovery. In the soft soil, several foot-prints could be plainly distinguished. Some were coarse, shapeless impressions, precisely such as would be made by the rude moccasins worn by Arthur and Johnny. Others were the prints of naked feet, and some of these were of far too large a size to be made by either of the three. This discovery affected us for the moment like an electric shock, and we stood looking at one another without speaking, and scarcely breathing, while the very beating of our hearts might be heard. Browne was the first to recover himself, when he commenced a close examination of all the tracks. The piece of ground upon which they could be traced, extended some thirty yards, and after a careful scrutiny of the whole of it, we became convinced that at least four persons, besides our three companions, had recently passed over it. All the tracks were not in the same direction, and from finding those of precisely the same size lying in opposite directions, we inferred that some of these persons, at least, had passed and repassed the spot. The most distressing surmises as to the cause of the disappearance of our companions, now began to suggest themselves. We were so astounded by this decisive evidence of the presence of strangers upon the island, that we scarcely knew what to do next, but at last concluded to return to the islet and await Morton's arrival, being anxious to avoid the risk of any further division of our numbers. We accordingly retraced our way thither: supposing that Morton would have set out before we could reach the cabin, and that we might pass each other on the way without knowing it, if we should proceed down the stream to meet him, we remained quietly at the islet, keeping a vigilant and somewhat nervous look-out on every side. He arrived about noon, having started rather sooner than had been agreed upon. On being informed of the tracks which had been discovered, he said that we ought at once to trace them as far as we were able. "We must not rest," said he, "until we know something more of this, even if we have to traverse every inch of ground on the island." Browne was inclined to infer from the foot-prints, that the interior, and the eastern part of the island, of which we as yet knew nothing, were inhabited, and that our companions had fallen into the hands of the natives. "Let us, in the first place, find, if possible, where they are. We can then judge what is to be done, if indeed we can do any thing," said Morton, "and now for the place where the tracks you speak of are to be seen." Grasping our weapons, which were no longer to be regarded as a useless incumbrance, we once more proceeded up the brook, and soon reached the piece of low ground before mentioned. We again narrowly inspected the tracks: Morton measured them with a twig, and concluded, as we had previously done, that these were the foot-prints of at least seven persons--there being that number of clearly different sizes. Three of these were without doubt the tracks of Arthur, Johnny, and Eiulo. The impressions made by the moccasins of the two former led only in one direction, (_from_ the stream), while those of the naked feet, (or of some of them), were in two opposite directions. Following these tracks eastward along the rocky ridge, we soon came to firm dry ground, where footsteps could no longer be traced. But by a minute scrutiny, we were still able to detect slight but decisive indications of the course of the party whose trail we were endeavouring to follow. In one place, a bunch of spreading ferns had been trodden down, and the long graceful fronds bruised and broken: in another, a cluster of crushed wild-flowers betrayed a recent footstep. A little further on, we came to a wide, meadow-like expanse, where the grass and weeds grew rank and tall, and through this the path of a considerable party could be readily traced. Gradually becoming accustomed to this species of minute investigation, as we continued carefully to practise it, we soon grew so expert and skilful, that things very slight in themselves, and which would ordinarily have altogether escaped notice, sufficed to guide and direct us. The path trodden through the meadow, led to the foot of an ascent, up which we followed the trail slowly and with difficulty, the soil being hard, and the vegetation scanty. On gaining the top, we found that we had reached the eastern, or south-eastern extremity of the island, and the sea spread before us, almost at our feet. The trail led directly towards the edge of a steep bank, just above the shore, near which we lost it altogether. Morton leaped down the bank some ten or twelve feet, while the rest of us were looking round for easier and more gradual means of descent. Finding a stunted tree springing from the lower ground, close against the bluff, I leaped among its spreading branches, and climbed down its trunk to the shore, where I found Morton searching for some traces of the party which we had tracked almost to the edge of the height. In a moment we were joined by Max and Browne, who had clambered down the face of the bank by the assistance of the shrubs and bushes growing upon it. "It is useless," said Browne, "to look here for the trail we have lost. If they descended to the shore, it must have been in some place where Johnny and Eiulo could have got down." "The track seemed to lead directly to the sea," said Morton, "and you must consider that a party of savages would not find much of an obstacle in such a bank as this, and would scarcely be as careful as ourselves of the safety of Johnny and Eiulo. In fact, I suppose they would hand or drop them down such a height, without scruple or ceremony. What I now begin to fear is, that our unfortunate companions have fallen into the hands of a party of savages, landing here for some transient purpose, and have been carried off by them." At this moment an exclamation from Max, who had walked a little way along the beach, announced some discovery, and turning round we saw him beckoning to us. "What is that?" said he, when we had joined him, stooping down, and pointing towards a clump of stunted trees, growing in an angle or indentation, where the bluff fell back for a short distance from the shore, "is it not a canoe drawn up under the trees?" It was not easy to distinguish the object clearly, on account of the thickness of the foliage. After waiting a moment, and looking carefully about, being satisfied that there was no one in the vicinity, we approached the spot. Max was not mistaken; a large canoe, capable of holding fifteen or twenty persons, was lying among the bushes, where it had evidently been placed for concealment. In the bottom were a number of carved paddles, a mast wound about with a mat-sail, several calabashes containing water, and some cocoa-nuts. Having hastily noted these particulars, we withdrew to a short distance, behind a rock detached from the bank, and surrounded by a dense growth of tangled shrubbery, to hold a consultation. From the position in which we found the canoe, with no dwelling near that we could see, and from the circumstance of its containing water and provisions, we inferred that it did not belong to persons inhabiting the island, or this portion of it at any rate. There was at least a probability of its belonging to the party which we had tracked so nearly to the spot, and that they were now somewhere in the neighbourhood. "This canoe must be destroyed," said Morton, after a moment of silence, "and we had better set about it at once." This proposition seemed a bold and a somewhat strange one. Browne demanded the object of such a proceeding. "Unless we do this," answered Morton, "our companions, if they are still alive, and in the power of the savages, may be carried away from the island before our eyes, and separated from us for ever. As long as they are here, within our reach, there is hope of our being able to rescue them; if not by force, then by some device or stratagem. At the worst, we only run some unnecessary risk, by what I propose. Could we ever forgive ourselves if Arthur should be carried off through our having omitted a precaution calculated to prevent it?" Morton's decision and earnestness prevailed; while he undertook the work of destroying the canoe, Max, Browne, and I, stationed ourselves at different points around the spot, so as to give timely notice of the approach of any person. He devoted himself to his task with such vigour, that in a very few moments he had completely broken up the bottom of the canoe, by repeated blows of a stone as heavy as he could lift in both hands. Not content with this, he disengaged the outrigger, and threw it, together with the mast and sail, into the sea. CHAPTER THIRTY. THE RENCONTRE. THE TWO LEADERS--AN UNEXPECTED MEETING--THE COUNCIL OF WAR--AND WHAT FOLLOWED. "Now screw your courage to the sticking point." "With many a stiff thwack, many a bang, Hard crab-tree and old iron rang; While none who saw them could divine To which side conquest would incline." I had climbed to the top of the bank as my look-out station, while the work of demolishing the canoe was going forward, and on perceiving that Morton had accomplished his task, I was about to descend again, when taking a final sweeping glance to the north and east, I observed several figures moving rapidly along the beach, at a point somewhat less than a quarter of a mile distant, of which my position commanded a view, and coming towards us. In consequence of the indented character of the shore, and the height of the bank bordering it for some distance, they passed out of sight almost instantly. Without losing a moment, I sprang down to the shore to communicate what I had seen. Max, who had been posted upon the beach to keep a look-out northward, ran up at the same time, having also caught sight of the persons approaching us, as they came round a projecting point. We now looked hurriedly around for some place of concealment, and Morton pointed out a cluster of shrubs and rank weeds upon the verge of the bluff just above us, from which, without any risk of being seen ourselves, we could command a view of the shore and those passing along it. There was but little time for deliberation or choice, and hastily summoning Browne from his post, where he was still on the watch, we scaled the almost perpendicular face of the height, with an ease and celerity which would have been impossible under circumstances of less excitement. In the spot which Morton had designated, tall grass and flaunting weeds fringed the edge of the bluff, and we threw ourselves down among them, and awaited, with almost suspended breath, the approach of the persons I had seen. We were scarcely settled in our hiding-place, when a half-naked figure, swinging a short club in one hand, rushed into view. Another, and another followed, until I had counted seven of them. They were well-made, athletic men, of a fine olive colour, with long straight hair falling over their shoulders. The maro, which is a sort of fringed belt, was their only clothing, and they carried spears and clubs of some dark-grained wood. Among them was one striking figure. It was that of an old man, of large and powerful frame, and a marked and resolute countenance, the expression of which reminded me of an old lion which I had seen in some itinerant menagerie, years ago. His massive head was covered with a tangled mass of iron-grey hair that streamed like a mane over his broad shoulders. The club which he carried might have served Hercules himself; it certainly would have severely tasked the strength of an ordinary man to wield it. I observed that all of them seemed to breathe quickly as though they had been running, or exerting themselves violently in some way; and the old man, who came last looked backward once or twice, as they came opposite us, in a way that caused me to suppose that they were pursued. The one who had first come in sight, went towards the spot where the canoe was concealed, and upon seeing its condition, uttered an exclamation of surprise that quickly brought the others around him, when they all commenced gesticulating, and talking in a low key, looking cautiously about every moment, as though apprehensive that the perpetrators of the mischief might still be lurking near. The old man, however, neither talked nor gesticulated, but stooping down, he examined the canoe narrowly, as if to ascertain the precise extent of the injury done, and whether it admitted of any remedy. When he had completed his inspection he arose, and shaking his head sorrowfully, uttered some expression, which, accompanied as it was by a threatening gesture with his ponderous club, sounded much like an emphatic imprecation. Morton, who was crouching close beside me, peering cautiously through the tufts of grass, at what was going on below, gave a nervous start, as though the consciousness of the leading part he had taken in the mischief so recently wrought, made him consider himself the special object of the old giant's fury. One of them having gone back a little way along the beach, as if to reconnoitre, now returned in haste, and made some announcement, upon hearing which the old man waved his hand, and the others immediately started off upon a full run along the shore towards the south-west; he then followed them at a somewhat less hurried pace. "They are certainly pursued, judging from their actions," whispered Morton, "let us keep quiet, and see what comes next." But a few minutes had passed, when half a dozen savages, resembling in their appearance and equipments those we had just seen, came in sight, running at full speed, but with the air of pursuers rather than of fugitives. Straggling bands of two or three each followed at short intervals, all probably belonging to the same party, but scattered in the heat of the chase. Altogether, there must have been as many as fifteen or twenty of them. A tall, wild-looking savage, large-framed, but gaunt as a greyhound, and with a kind of fierce energy in all his movements, seemed to be the leader of the pursuing party. Just below us on the beach, he turned and gave some order to a portion of his followers, speaking with great rapidity, and pointing towards the bluff; after which he darted off again along the shore at a speed that seemed really marvellous. Those to whom he had spoken, immediately began, as if in obedience to the order just given, to climb the bank, not a dozen yards from the spot where we were lying. The object of this movement undoubtedly was, to anticipate and frustrate any attempt on the part of the fugitives, to escape, by quitting the shore and making towards the interior. The party thus detached had probably been directed to continue the chase, keeping to the higher ground. If so, they would pass quite near our place of concealment, and there was some danger of our being discovered, to avoid which, we crouched close to the ground, and remained perfectly silent and motionless. The point where the savages were attempting to ascend was steep and difficult, and several of them, apparently to disencumber themselves for the effort of climbing, threw their clubs and spears before them to the top. One of these weapons, a short, heavy club, fell near me, and fearing that the owner might come to seek it, I hastily cast it to a conspicuous place, free from vegetation, a little distance from the bank, and nearer the spot where they were scaling it. But the savage had probably noticed where it first fell, for the next moment some one came running directly towards the place, and just as I was expecting to see him stumble into the midst of us, a deep guttural exclamation announced that we were discovered. Any further attempt at concealment was clearly idle, and we sprang up at once; the man was within three yards of us; he seemed quite as much startled as ourselves at so sudden a rencontre, and after standing for a minute looking at us, he turned and ran off to his fellows. "They will be back directly in a body," said Browne, "and we must decide quickly what we are to do--whether to trust ourselves in their power, or to make such resistance as we can, if they undertake to meddle with us." "I doubt if it would be safe to trust them," said Morton, "at any rate I don't like the idea of risking it. There are but five or six of them; the rest are far enough off by this time." "I wish Arthur were here," said Browne, anxiously; "he understands them and their ways, and could tell us what we ought to do. I don't know what the probability is of their injuring us if we throw aside our arms and submit ourselves to them, and therefore I am loth to take the responsibility of deciding the matter." Meantime the savages appeared to be also holding a consultation. They stood at a short distance talking rapidly, and pointing towards us. At length they began to approach the spot where we stood, but slowly, and with some apparent hesitation. "Well," said Browne, "we must come to a decision quickly." "I distrust them entirely," exclaimed Morton, "I am for acting on the defensive." "And I also," said Max, "I have no faith in them: but perhaps they won't stop to interfere with us after all." "Very well, then," said Browne, "we will fight if we must. But let us stand strictly on the defensive, and offer them no provocation." I could not help regarding this determination as unwise, but it was the mind of the majority; and the present was no time for divided or uncertain counsels. I therefore kept my thoughts to myself, and grasping my cutlass, prepared for what was to follow. Browne and Max were armed with the "Feejee war-clubs," of the latter's manufacture: they were long, heavy bludgeons, of the wood of the casuarina, rather too ponderous to be wielded with one hand by a person of ordinary strength. Morton and I were provided with cutlasses, which we had preferred as being lighter and more convenient to carry. The savages were armed with spears and short clubs, the former of which they presented towards us as they advanced. I confess that my heart began to thump against my breast with unwonted and unpleasant rapidity and violence. I dare say it was the same with my companions; but externally we were perfectly composed and steady. "There are just five of them," said Browne, "two antagonists for me, and one apiece for the rest of you. If any one interferes with my two I shall consider it a personal affront." "Confound those long spears!" exclaimed Max, with a disturbed air, "they have a mighty uncomfortable look, with those fish-bone barbs at the end of them." The still more "uncomfortable" thought that those fish-bone barbs were perhaps poisoned, suggested itself to me, but I considered it expedient to say nothing on the subject at the present juncture. "Pshaw!" cried Browne, "the long spears are easily managed, if you will only remember my fencing-lessons, and keep your nerves steady. It is the simplest thing in the world to put aside a thrust from such a weapon: depend upon it, those short clubs will prove much more dangerous." The savages, having now had a sufficient opportunity to note our equipments, and our youthful appearance, quickly lost all hesitation, and came confidently forward until they stood facing us, at the distance of but ten or twelve feet. Then, seeing that we maintained a defensive attitude, they paused, and one of them, stepping a little before the rest, spoke to us in a loud and authoritative voice, at the same time motioning us to throw aside our weapons. "Can't you muster a few words of their heathen talk, Archer?" said Browne, "perhaps if we could only understand one another, we should find there is no occasion for us to quarrel. It seems so irrational to run the risk of having our brains knocked out, if it can be avoided." I shook my head: the few phrases which I had picked up from Arthur and Eiulo, could be of no use for the present purpose, even if they should be understood. The spokesman, a sinewy, hard-favoured savage, whose native ugliness was enhanced by two scars that seamed his broad squat face, repeated the words he had before uttered, in a higher key, and with a still more imperative air, accompanying what he said, with gestures, which sufficiently explained what he required. "If I understand you, my friend," said Browne, appearing to forget in the excitement of the moment that what he was saying would be utterly unintelligible to the person he addressed, "If I understand you, your demand is unreasonable. Throw away your own weapons first; you are the most numerous party:" and he imitated the gestures which the other had made use of. The savage shook his head impatiently, and keeping his eyes steadfastly fixed upon Browne, he began to speak in a quiet tone. But I saw that though looking at Browne, his words were addressed to his companions, who gradually spread themselves out in front of us and without making any openly hostile demonstrations, handled their weapons in what seemed to me a suspicious manner. "Be on your guard," said I, speaking in my ordinary tone, and without looking round, "I am sure they are meditating sudden mischief." Scarcely were the words uttered, when, with the quickness of lightning, the spokesman hurled his club at Browne, narrowly missing his head, then bringing his spear into a horizontal position, he made a thrust full at his chest with his whole force. Browne, however, was on his guard, and knocking aside the point of the spear, he swung round his long club; and, before the other could draw back, brought it down with such effect upon his right shoulder that his arm fell powerless to his side, and the spear dropped from his grasp. Browne promptly set his foot upon it, and the owner, astonished and mortified, rather than intimidated at his repulse, shrunk back without any attempt to regain it. This attack was so sudden, and so soon foiled--being but a blow aimed, parried, and returned, in a single breath--that no one on either side had an opportunity to interfere or join in it. The other savages now uttered a yell, and were about to rush upon us: but the leader, as he appeared to be, motioned them back, and they drew off to a short distance. If we were for a moment inclined to hope that we should now be left unmolested, we soon learned the groundlessness of such an expectation. The discomfited savage, instead of being discouraged by the rough treatment he had received, was only rendered more dangerous and resolute by it; and he prepared to renew the attack at once, having taken from one of his companions a club somewhat heavier and longer than his own. "I wish," said Max, drawing a long breath as he eyed these ominous proceedings, "that we had a few of Colt's revolvers, to keep these fellows at a respectable distance: I confess I don't like the notion of coming to such close quarters with them as they seem to contemplate." "A genuine Yankee wish!" answered Browne, grasping his club with both hands, and planting himself firmly, to receive the expected onset; "to make it completely in character you have only to wish, in addition, for a mud breastwork, or a few cotton bags, between us and our friends yonder." "Which I do, with all my heart!" responded Max, fervently. "Let Kaiser Maximilien represent the high Dutch on this occasion," said Morton, edging himself forward abreast of Browne, who had stationed himself a trifle in advance of the rest of us; "he has no claim to speak for the Yankees except the mere accident of birth. Archer and I will uphold the honour of the stars and stripes without either revolvers or cotton bags." "Fair play!" cried Max, pushing Browne aside, "I won't have you for a breastwork at any rate, however much I may desire one of turf or cotton bales." And we arranged ourselves side by side. "Really," said Morton, with a faint apology for a smile, "it appears that we have to do with tacticians--they are going to outflank us." This remark was caused by our antagonists separating themselves; the leader advancing directly towards us, while the others approached, two on the right and two on the left. "Well," said Browne, "we shall have to form a hollow square, officers in the centre, as the Highlanders did at Waterloo, and then I shall claim the privilege of my rank." But our pleasantry was, as may easily be imagined, rather forced. Our adversaries were now evidently bent upon mischief, and thoroughly in earnest. We were none of us veterans, and notwithstanding an assumption of coolness, overstrained and unnatural under the circumstances, our breath came thick and painfully with the intense excitement of the moment. At a signal from their scarred leader, the savages rushed upon us together. I can give no very clear account of the confused struggle that ensued, as I was not at the time in a state of mind favourable to calm and accurate observation. A few blows and thrusts were exchanged; at first cautiously, and at as great a distance as our weapons would reach; then more rapidly and fiercely, until we became all mingled together, and soon each of us was too fully occupied in defending himself to be able to pay much attention to any thing else. At the commencement of the attack I was standing next to Browne, who being evidently singled out by his former opponent, advanced a step or two to meet him. He skilfully parried several downright blows from the heavy club of the latter, who in his turn dodged a swinging stroke which Browne aimed at his head, and instantly closed with him. The next moment they went whirling past me towards the edge of the bank, locked together in a desperate grapple, which was the last that I saw of them. I was assailed at the outset by an active and athletic savage, armed with a short club. He was exceedingly anxious to close, which I, quite naturally, was as desirous to prevent, knowing that I should stand no chance in such a struggle, against his superior weight and strength. While I was doing my best to keep him off with my cutlass, and he was eagerly watching an opportunity to come to closer quarters, Morton, locked in the grasp of a brawny antagonist, came driving directly between us, where they fell together, and lay rolling and struggling upon the ground at our feet. My opponent, abandoning me for a moment, was in the act of aiming a blow at Morton's head, when I sprang forward, and cut him across the forehead with my cutlass. The blood instantly followed the stroke, and gushing in torrents over his face, seemed to blind him: he struck three or four random blows in the air, then reeled and fell heavily to the ground. Throwing a hasty glance around, I perceived Max among some bushes at a little distance defending himself with difficulty against a savage, who attacked him eagerly with one of those long spears, towards which he entertained such an aversion. Browne was nowhere to be seen. Morton and his strong antagonist were still grappling on the ground, but the latter had gained the advantage, and was now endeavouring, while he held Morton under him, to reach a club lying near, with which to put an end to the struggle. Another of the enemy was sitting a few steps off apparently disabled, with the blood streaming from a wound in the neck. I hastened to Morton's assistance, whereupon his opponent, seeing my approach, sprang up and seized the club which he had been reaching after. But Morton gained his feet almost as soon as the other, and instantly grappled with him again. At this moment I heard Max's voice, in a tone of eager warning, calling, "Look-out, Archer!" and turning, I saw the savage I supposed to be disabled, with uplifted arm, in the very act of bringing down his club upon my head. I have a confused recollection of instinctively putting up my cutlass, in accordance with Browne's instructions for meeting the "seventh" stroke in the broad-sword exercise. I have since become convinced by reflection, (to say nothing of experience), that the principles of the broad-sword exercise, however admirable in themselves, cannot be applied without some modification when iron-wood clubs, with huge knobs of several pounds' weight at the ends of them, are substituted for claymores. However, I had no time then to make the proper distinctions, and as instead of dodging the blow, I endeavoured to parry it, my guard was beaten down--and that is all that I can relate of the conflict, from my own knowledge and personal observation. CHAPTER THIRTY ONE. RECONNOITRING BY NIGHT. THE SEARCH RENEWED--THE CAPTIVES--ATOLLO AND THE TEWANS. "Trembling, they start and glance behind At every common forest-sound-- The whispering trees, the moaning wind, The dead leaves falling to the ground; As on with stealthy steps they go, Each thicket seems to hide the foe." From the moment when startled by Max's warning cry, I turned and saw the uplifted club of the savage suspended over my head, all is blank in my memory, until opening my eyes with a feeling of severe pain, and no distinct consciousness where I was, I found Browne and Max bending over me, my head being supported upon the knee of the former. "Well, how do you feel?" inquired he. I stared at him a minute or two without answering, not understanding very clearly what was the matter with me, though having at the same time a vague impression that all was not quite right. Gradually I collected my ideas, and at length, when Browne repeated his question the third time, I had formed a pretty correct theory as to the cause of my present supine attitude, and the unpleasant sensations which I experienced. "I feel rather queer about the head and shoulders," I said, in answer to his inquiry: "I must have got a pretty severe blow. I suppose!" "Yes," said Max, whose uneasy look ill agreed with his words and manner, "see what it is to be blessed with a tough cranium; such a whack would have crushed mine like an egg-shell; but it has only enlarged your bump of reverence a little." "Nothing serious has happened, then--no one is badly hurt," said I, trying to look around; but the attempt gave my neck so severe a wrench, and caused such extreme pain, that I desisted. "No one has received any worse injury than yourself," answered Browne--"at least, none of us." "And the savages--what has become of them?" "We have nothing to apprehend from them at present, I think--they have been gone but a short time, and Morton is in the tree yonder, keeping watch for their return--do you feel now as if you can stand up and walk?" "Certainly, I can; with the exception of the pain in my head, and a stiffness about the neck and shoulders, I am all right, I believe." And in order to convince Browne, who seemed somewhat sceptical on the point, notwithstanding my assurances, I got up and walked about--carrying my head somewhat rigidly, I dare say, for it gave me a severe twinge at every movement. "Well," said he, "since that is the case, I think the wisest thing we can do is to leave this neighbourhood at once." While Max went to summon Morton from his post of observation, Browne gave me a brief and hurried account of what had occurred after I had been felled, as related. He, and the leader of the savages, whom I had last seen struggling upon the brink of the height, had gone over it together; the latter, falling underneath, had been severely bruised, while Browne himself received but little injury. Leaving his adversary groaning and, as he supposed, mortally hurt by the fall, he had climbed again to the higher ground, and reached it at a very critical moment. Morton was struggling at disadvantage with the same formidable antagonist from whom he had before been for a moment in such imminent danger; and Max was dodging about among the bushes, sorely pressed by another of the enemy with one of those long spears, against which he entertained so violent a prejudice. I had just been disposed of in the manner above hinted at, by the savage who had been wounded in the neck by Morton, at the very commencement of the affray, and he was now at liberty to turn his attention either to Max or Morton, each of whom was already hard bested. Browne immediately fell upon my conqueror, almost as unexpectedly as the latter had attacked me, and by a sudden blow stretched him senseless upon the ground. He next relieved Morton, by disabling his adversary. The two, then, hastened to Max's succour, but the savage who was engaged with him, did not deem it prudent to await the approach of this reinforcement, and made off into the forest. They then gathered up all the weapons of the enemy, permitting Morton's recent antagonist to limp off without molestation. The man whom I had wounded was by this time sitting up, wiping the blood from his face and eyes; the other, also, manifested signs of returning consciousness; but having been deprived of their clubs and spears, no danger was apprehended from them. My three companions had then carried me to the spot where we now were, from whence they had witnessed the departure of the rest of our foes. Even the man whom Browne had left dying on the shore, as he supposed, had managed to crawl off at last. As soon as Max and Morton returned, we set out at once, weary as we were, for the islet in the brook, without any very definite notion as to what was to be done next. The prudence of removing from our present neighbourhood was obvious, but we were still too much discomposed and excited by what had just taken place, to have been able to decide upon any further step, even had not the momentary apprehension of the return of the savages in greater numbers rendered every thing like calm deliberation entirely out of the question. We took the precaution to choose our path over the hardest and dryest ground, in order to afford the savages the fewest possible facilities for tracing our course. By the time we reached the islet, we were completely out by the fatigue and excitement of the day; we must have walked at least twelve miles since morning. After partaking sparingly of the food which we had so fortunately brought with us, accompanied by copious draughts of water from the brook, we began to feel somewhat refreshed. Still we were greatly disheartened by the gloomy and distressing circumstances, in which we found ourselves so suddenly involved; the great uncertainty as to the fate of our companions, and the danger that threatened our own lives from the vindictive pursuit of a numerous body of savages. All our energy and courage seemed for the present, at least, to be completely broken. Browne laid down upon a couch of dry fern beneath the many-pillared Aoa. He looked pale and ill--more so, I thought, than the mere effects of excitement and over-exertion could account for. Morton soon revived the question of what was now to be done. "I suppose we must remain here for the present, at least," said Browne, "and defend ourselves, if attacked, as well as we can." Max suggested Palm-Islet as a place of greater security and one where we should run less risk of discovery. "And meantime," said Morton, "are we to give up all attempt to find Arthur and the rest?" "I hardly know what we can do," answered Browne, with a perplexed and discouraged air; "we have no clue to guide us in a fresh search. If these savages inhabit the island,--or if they remain here,--we cannot hope to escape them long, after what has taken place; we must fall into their hands sooner or later, and if they have captured our companions, I am willing for my part, that it should be so. I doubt if we acted wisely in resisting them at all,--but it is now too late to think of that." We continued to talk the matter over for some time, but without coming to any definite resolution, and at length Browne dropped asleep, while we were still discussing it. As it began to grow dark, Max became disturbed and excited. He was possessed by a vague conviction, for which he was unable to account, that our lost companions were in some imminent peril, from which it was in our power to rescue them. He was anxious to do something, and yet seemed uncertain what to propose. Morton was equally desirous of making a further effort to discover our lost friends; he was also quite clear and explicit, in his notion of what ought to be done. His theory appeared to be, that they had fallen into the hands of the natives, whose encampment or place of abode, (temporary or otherwise), was on the north-eastern side of the island. He further supposed that some feud or quarrel having arisen among themselves, the worsted party had fled along the beach as we had witnessed, pursued by their victorious enemies,-- that in the meantime, their captives had been left, (perhaps unguarded), at the encampment or landing-place of the natives. Morton was as minute and detailed in stating this hypothetical case, as if he had either actually seen or dreamed the whole. He proposed that as soon as the moon rose, some of us should set off for the shore, and proceed along the beach, in the direction from which we had seen the natives come, by pursuing which course, he was confident we should be able to learn something respecting our companions. This he wished to undertake alone, saying that one person could prosecute the search as well as four, and with much less risk of discovery: if successful in ascertaining any thing definite, he should, he said, immediately return and apprise the rest of us. Max eagerly embraced this suggestion, and wished to decide by lot, which of us should carry it into execution, insisting that, otherwise, he would either set off at once by himself, or accompany Morton. At length Browne awoke; he said that he had derived much benefit from his two hours' sleep, and was now ready for any necessary exertion. He also approved of Morton's plan, but objected to his going alone, and was at first in favour of setting out all together. At last it was settled that the search should be undertaken by two of us, the other two awaiting the result at the islet. Browne then prepared four twigs for the purpose of deciding the matter by lot, it being agreed that the one drawing the longest, should have the choice of going or remaining, and should also select his companion. On comparing lots after we had drawn, mine proved to be longest; and having decided upon going, I felt bound to name Morton as my associate, since he had been the first to suggest, and the most earnest in urging the adventure. An hour after dark the moon rose, and soon lighted the forest sufficiently to enable us to see our way through it. We then armed ourselves with a cutlass apiece, and taking leave of Max and Browne, proceeded up the brook to the fall, where we crossed it, and, following the rocky ridge, which ran at right angles with it, we endeavoured to hold, as nearly as possible, the course we had taken in the morning. After leaving the stream, a good part of our way was through the open country, where there was nothing to prevent us from seeing or being seen at a considerable distance in the bright moonlight. But the only alternatives were, either to creep on our hands and knees, the whole distance from the edge of the forest to the shore, and so avail ourselves of such concealment as the rank grass and weeds afforded,--or to push boldly and rapidly forward, at the risk of being seen: we preferred the latter, and soon got over this dangerous ground, running part of the time, in the most exposed places. On reaching the bluff, over the beach, we lay down among the bushes a few moments to recover our breath, and reconnoitre, before taking a fresh start. All was perfectly silent around us, and no living thing could be seen. When sufficiently rested, we proceeded cautiously along the edge of the height, where we could command a view both of the beach below, and of the open country inland. The bluff extended about a quarter of a mile, when it gradually sunk to the level of the beach, and was succeeded by a low, flat shore, lined with large trees. We had gone but a little way along it after this change, when we came quite unexpectedly upon an inlet, or salt-water creek, setting in to the land, and bordered so thickly with mangroves, that we narrowly escaped going headlong into it, while endeavouring to force our way through the bushes to continue our course along the beach. It was some twenty yards wide; but I could not see how far inland it ran, on account of the immense trees that overhung it on every side, springing up in great numbers just behind the low border of mangroves. Holding fast by one of these bushes, I was leaning forward over the water, looking hard into the gloom, to gain, if possible, some notion of the extent of the inlet and the distance round it, when Morton grasped my arm suddenly-- "What is that, under the trees on the opposite shore?" whispered he; "is it not a boat?" Looking in the direction in which he pointed, I could distinguish some object on the opposite side of the inlet, that might from its size and shape be a boat of some kind, as he supposed, and, continuing to gaze steadily, I made out quite plainly, against the dark masses of foliage on the further shore, what appeared to be a white mast. A profound silence reigned all around us, and while I was still peering into the heavy shadow of the trees, I heard a sound which resembled a deep, and long-drawn sigh, followed by an exclamation, as of a person in bodily pain. "We must get round to the other side," whispered Morton, "and see what this means." We backed out of the mangroves with the utmost caution, and inch by inch: when we had got to such a distance as to render this extreme circumspection no longer necessary, we commenced a wide circuit around the inlet, which proved to be only a small cove, or indentation in the shore, extending less than a hundred yards inland. In approaching it again on the opposite side, we resumed all our former stealthiness of movement, feeling that our lives in all probability depended upon our caution. When, at last, we had got, as we supposed, quite near the place where we had seen the boat, we proceeded, by creeping on our hands and knees through the bushes for short distances, and then rising and looking about, to ascertain our position. It was so dark, and the undergrowth was so dense--the moonlight scarcely penetrating the thick foliage--that nothing could be distinguished at the distance even of a few yards, and there was some danger that we might come suddenly, and before we were aware, upon those whom we supposed to be already so near us. While thus blindly groping our way towards the edge of the inlet, I heard a voice almost beside me, which said-- "Will they never come back?--Are they going to leave us here to starve?" The voice was that of Johnny's beyond the possibility of mistake. Turning in the direction from which it proceeded, I saw a little to the right three figures upon the ground at the foot of a large casuarina. Another voice, as familiar, almost immediately answered-- "I only fear that they will return too soon: have patience! in a little while I shall have gnawed through this rope, and then I do not despair of being able to get my hands free also." This was enough to show how matters stood. "Are you alone?" said I, in a low voice, but loud enough to be heard by those beneath the casuarina. There was an exclamation of joyful surprise from Johnny; then Arthur answered, "If that is you, Archer, come and help us, for we are tied hand and foot. You have nothing to fear; our captors have left us quite alone." We now came forward without further hesitation. They were all bound fast, their hands being tied behind them, in addition to which, each was fastened to the tree by a rope of sennit. It would be difficult to say which party seemed most rejoiced at this sudden meeting. As soon as they were liberated, we embraced one another with tears of joy. "Let us leave this place as fast as possible," said Arthur, as soon as he became a little composed, "I expect the return of the natives every moment,--and we have more to dread from them than you can guess. But I find I am so stiff after lying bound here all day, that I can hardly walk. Now, Johnny, take my hand, and try to get along. How is it with you, Eiulo--do you feel able to travel fast?" The latter appeared to understand the drift of the question, and answered by frisking and jumping about in exultation at his recovered liberty. Instead of returning by the way by which we had come, along the shore, we pushed on in a straight line, in the supposed direction of the islet, in order to avoid the risk of meeting the natives. After toiling for an hour through the woods, we emerged into the open country to the east of the rocky ridge that traversed the course of the stream. During this time, we had been too fully occupied in picking our way with the necessary caution, besides the constant apprehension of suddenly encountering the natives, to ask for any explanations. But now we began to feel somewhat reassured, and as we hastened on towards the islet, Arthur very briefly informed us, that they had yesterday been suddenly surprised by a party of six natives, soon after leaving us at the islet, and hurried off to the shore: that they had been left by their captors this morning, secured as we had found them, and had remained in that condition until released by us. He added that he had more to communicate by-and-bye. The joy of Browne and Max at our return, accompanied by the lost ones, may be imagined--but it can scarcely be described. In fact, I am obliged to confess that we were such children, as to enact quite "a scene," at this unexpected meeting. Heartfelt and sincere were the thanksgivings we that night rendered to Him, who had kept us in perfect safety, and reunited us, after a separation made so distressing by our uncertainty as to each other's fate. After Arthur, Eiulo, and Johnny, had appeased their hunger with the scanty remains of our supply of provisions, the two latter lay down upon a bed of ferns beneath the Aoa, and were soon sleeping as soundly and peacefully, as though all our troubles and dangers were now at an end. How easily they put in practice the philosophy that vexes itself not about the future! Exercising the happy privilege of childhood, they cast upon others, in whom they placed implicit confidence, the responsibility of thinking and planning for them--free from all care and anxiety themselves. Arthur now gave us a more detailed account of what had occurred since our separation. "Do you remember," said he, when he had finished, "hearing Eiulo, in talking of affairs at Tewa, make mention of a person named Atollo?" "Atollo?" said Browne, "was not that the name of an uncle of his whom he made out to be a strange, unnatural sort of monster, even for a heathen, and who concocted a plot for the murder of his own father and brother, and afterwards attempted to kill Eiulo by rolling rocks down a precipice after him in the woods!" "The same," answered Arthur. "I hardly supposed that you would have remembered it, as no one but myself seemed to take much interest in Eiulo's reminiscences of Tewa, the rest of you being obliged to get them at second-hand, through me as interpreter. Well, that Atollo has reached this island in some way, with a band of followers: it was by them that we were captured yesterday; it is from his power that we have just escaped." "What is this Atollo like?" inquired Browne. "Is he a tall, large-framed man, but gaunt and spare as a half-starved hound?" "Yes, with sharp features, and a wild, restless eye." "Why, then," continued Browne, turning to me, "it was he, who was at the head of the second party of natives that we saw this morning by the shore." We now gave Arthur an account of our rencontre with the savages; but no particular mention was made of the destruction of the canoe, or of the lion-like old man who seemed to be the leader of those who fled. "And little Eiulo's dread of this strange uncle of his," said Browne, "is then so great, that he preferred running away to us again, to remaining with his own people?" "Incredible as it may seem," answered Arthur, "I am convinced that his fears are not without foundation, and I even believe that this man intended to take his life, and would have done so, had we not escaped." "Incredible, indeed!" exclaimed Browne, "and what could be the motive for so atrocious a crime?" "I know of none that seems sufficient to account for it fully, and I am therefore almost forced to regard the man as a monomaniac." Arthur thought that Atollo had probably made some further desperate attempt against his brother at Tewa, and, having failed in it, had fled hither with a part of his followers, among whom some quarrel had since arisen, in the prosecution of which they had been engaged, when we witnessed the flight and pursuit along the shore. This, however, was mere conjecture: they had talked but little in his presence, and he had not been able to learn any thing from the conversation which he had overheard, as to the cause of their coming hither. Eiulo had been questioned minutely by them, and from him they had ascertained that there were four more of us upon the island. Morton inquired of Arthur, whether he apprehended that any serious effort would be made by the savages to find us, and what kind of treatment we should probably receive in case we should fall into their power. "That search will be made for us," answered the latter, "I have not the slightest doubt; and I do not think that we can look for any mercy, if we fall into their hands, since to-day's affray and escape." "This feud among themselves," said Browne, "may keep them so busy as to afford no leisure for troubling themselves about us. I have some hope that they will use those ugly-looking clubs upon one another, to such purpose, as to rid us of them altogether." "That old giant," said Max, "who ran away, with such an awkward air, as if he wasn't at all used to it, will certainly do some mischief if they once come to blows." "Ay," pursued Browne, "though he didn't look quite so wicked and like a warlock, as the gaunt, wild-eyed heathen that led the chase, I will warrant him his full match in fair and equal fight, man to man." "Well," said Arthur, who during the latter part of this conversation had been apparently engaged in serious and perplexed thought, "for to-night, at least, we are in no danger. Let us now take our necessary rest, and to-morrow we shall be fresher and better prepared to decide upon the course of action to be adopted." CHAPTER THIRTY TWO. THE SINGLE COMBAT. PREPARATIONS FOR DEFENCE--A DEMAND AND REFUSAL--THE TWO CHAMPIONS. "On many a bloody field before-- Man of the dark and evil heart!-- We've met--pledged enemies of yore, But now we meet no more to part-- Till to my gracious liege and lord, By thee of broad domains bereft, From thy red hand and plotting brain, No fear of future wrong is left." The sense of surrounding danger with which we laid down that night upon our beds of fern beneath the Aoa, continued to press darkly upon our minds even in sleep, and awake us at an early hour to confront anew, the perplexities and terrors of our situation. Arthur, in whose better understanding of the habits and character of the savages we confided, far from affording us any additional encouragement, spoke in a manner calculated to overthrow the very hopes, upon which we had been resting. We had supposed that they could have no motive but the desire of revenge, for seeking or molesting us, and as none of their number had been killed, or in all probability even dangerously injured in the rencontre with us, we trusted that this motive would not prove strong enough to incite them to any earnest or long-continued search. But Arthur hinted at another object, more controlling in the mind of their strange leader than any desire to prosecute a petty revenge, which would impel him to seek for and pursue us, for the purpose of getting Eiulo again into his power. This enmity--so fixed and implacable--against a mere child, seemed incredible, even after all that had been said or suggested in explanation of it, and the explanations themselves were far-fetched, and almost destitute of plausibility. And how could we hope to escape a pursuit so determined and persevering as Arthur anticipated? Whither could we flee for safety? To think of successful resistance to Atollo and his band, if discovered by them, seemed idle. Max suggested Palm-Islet as the most secure retreat with which we were acquainted. But Arthur now broached a more startling plan. "Nowhere upon this island," said he, "can we longer consider ourselves secure. The only step that holds out any prospect of safety is to leave it in the yawl, and sail for Tewa." "Is there any certainty," said Browne, "that we can find it? Do we even know positively where, or in what direction from this place it is; and shall we not incur the risk of getting lost again at sea?" "I would rather take that risk," said Max, "than remain here, within reach of these savages--any thing is preferable to falling into their power." "I confess," said Arthur, "that we know nothing certainly in regard to the distance, or even the direction of Tewa, but I think we have good reason to believe that it lies about forty or fifty miles to the northward." We could not, however, bring ourselves thus suddenly to adopt a resolution so momentous, and it was at last tacitly decided to continue for the present, at least, at the islet. "If we are to remain here," said Arthur, on perceiving that there was no disposition to act immediately upon any of the suggestions which had been made, "let us make such preparation as we can, to defend ourselves if it shall be necessary." This surprised us all; it seemed worse than useless to think of forcible resistance to a party as numerous as that of Atollo; coming from Arthur such a suggestion was to me doubly surprising. "I see," said he, "that the notion of attempting to defend ourselves, if discovered, seems to you a desperate one--but I believe it to be our only course--we can expect no mercy from Atollo." "Surely," said Morton, "they can have no sufficient motive for murdering us in cold blood. But, fresh from another conflict with them, we could not perhaps look for forbearance, if in their power. Against _us_ they cannot now, it seems to me, cherish any feelings so vindictive as you imply." "And suppose it to be so? Suppose that they merely aim at Eiulo's life, without wishing to molest us?" "I don't fear that I shall be misunderstood, if I speak plainly," answered Morton, after a pause. "It seems, from what you have intimated, that for some reason they wish to get Eiulo into their hands; they are his own people, and their leader is his own uncle; have we any right to refuse him to them?" "Why, Morton!" interposed Browne, warmly, "what cold-blooded doctrine is this?" "Have patience, a minute, and hear me out--I cannot bring myself to believe that they actually intend him harm; I think there must be some mistake or misapprehension in regard to this alleged design against his life, utterly improbable as it is in itself." "But Arthur understands all that, far better than you or I," interrupted Browne, once more, "and it is clear that the poor child stands in mortal dread of this man." "I was going to add," resumed Morton, "that even if this danger does exist, it is entirely out of our power to afford him protection against it: we should merely throw away our lives, in a desperate and unprofitable attempt. It may seem unfeeling to talk of giving him up; but will not these people be far more likely to act with cruelty, both towards him and us, after being excited and enraged by a fruitless opposition? I have spoken frankly: but whatever is soberly determined upon, however unwise in my view, I will abide by." "I admit," answered Arthur, "that there is little prospect of success in a conflict with them: but I regard our fate as certain if we submit, and we can but be slain in resisting. I am so fully satisfied of Atollo's designs in respect to him, that I should feel in giving him up, as if I were an accessary to his murder." "Let us rather defend ourselves to the very last extremity," said Browne, earnestly, "if we are so unfortunate as to be found." "If," said Max, with an excited air,--"if I really believed they would kill Eiulo, I should say, never give him up, whatever the consequences may be;--and I do think this Atollo must be an incarnate fiend. I don't believe it will make any difference in their treatment of us whether we resist or not." "O no!" cried Johnny, who had been listening eagerly to this conversation, while Eiulo stood looking wistfully on, as if he knew that it concerned him. "O no! don't give him up to that wicked man. I would fight, myself, if I had my bow and arrows, but they took them away from me: can't we hide ourselves in the banyan tree?--they never will think of looking for us there?" "That is not a bad suggestion," said Morton, "and if we should be discovered, it is a strong place to defend. We can move easily and quickly about on that strong horizontal framework of branches, and it will be a hazardous undertaking to climb those straight smooth trunks, in our faces." It seemed, in fact, as if a party stationed upon the roof, (as it might be termed), of this singular tree, would occupy a vantage-ground from which it would require strong odds to dislodge them, and the assailants, unless provided with fire-arms, or missile weapons, would labour under almost insurmountable difficulties. Arthur discovered a place where it was easy to climb quickly into the tree, and requested us all to note it particularly, in order that we might effect a retreat without loss of time, if it should become necessary. Johnny and Eiulo were to take refuge there at the first alarm. Browne proceeded to cut a number of bludgeons from stout saplings, which he then deposited in different places among the branches, ready to be used, in defending ourselves, if pursued thither. Max collected a quantity of large stones, and fragments of rock, along the shore, and from the bed of the brook, and wrapping them in parcels of leaves, he hoisted them into the roof of the grove-tree, and secured them there. Morton surveyed these preparations with a grave smile, and none of us, I think, placed much reliance on their efficacy. We trusted that there would be no occasion to resort to them. The supply of provisions which we had brought with us was exhausted, but the painful suspense, and constant apprehension incident to our present circumstances, long prevented any thought of hunger. It was not until the day had passed without any alarm, and it was beginning to grow dark, that we experienced any inclination to eat. Arthur and I then went in search of food, but could obtain none, except a quantity of pandanus cones which we gathered from a group of trees near the waterfall. The kernels of these were the only food that any of us tasted that day. At night, it was deemed best to keep a watch, in order to guard against any surprise. As we made our arrangements for this purpose, my thoughts reverted to the time of our sufferings at sea in the boat. But in our present position, sought and pursued by malignant human beings, bent upon taking our lives, and who might at that moment be prowling near, there was something more fearful than any peril from the elements, or even the dread of starvation itself. But the night passed without disturbance or alarm of any kind, and in the morning we began to indulge the hope that Arthur had overrated the strength of the feelings by which Atollo was actuated, and to shake off in some degree the profound depression of the preceding evening. With the abatement of our fears and the partial return of tranquillity of mind, we became more sensible to the demands of hunger. Max and Morton ventured a little way into the adjoining forest in search of birds, and returned in less than half an hour with about a dozen pigeons, which they had knocked down with sticks and stones. Arthur had in the meantime caught quite a string of the yellow fish which had so perseveringly rejected all Max's overtures a couple of days since. Morton then kindled a fire to cook our food, though we felt some hesitation about this, being aware that the smoke might betray us to the savages, if they should happen to be at the time in the neighbourhood. But Max declared that falling into their hands was a fate preferable to starvation, and that rather than eat raw fish and birds, he would incur the risk of discovery by means of the fire. In the absence of cooking utensils, we hastily scooped out a Polynesian oven, and covered the bottom with a layer of heated stones, upon which the food, carefully wrapped in leaves, was deposited: another layer of hot stones was placed on top, and the whole then covered with fresh leaves and earth. This is the method adopted by the natives for baking bread-fruit and fish, and with the exception of the trouble and delay involved, it is equal to any thing that civilised ingenuity has devised for similar purposes, from the old-fashioned Dutch-oven to the most recent style of "improved kitchen ranges", with which I am acquainted. The heat being equally diffused throughout the entire mass, and prevented from escaping by the wrapping of leaves and earth, the subject operated upon, whether fish, fowl, or vegetable, is thoroughly and uniformly cooked. Max had just opened the oven, and was busily engaged in taking out and distributing the contents, while the rest of us were gathered in a group around the spot, when Eiulo suddenly uttered a shrill cry, and springing up, stood gazing towards the west side of the brook, as if paralysed by terror. Looking up, we saw two natives standing at the edge of the wood quietly watching us. One of them I at once recognised as the lithe and active leader, whom I had seen upon the shore in swift pursuit of the fugitives. Our first impulse, was to spring at once into the Aoa, according to the understanding to which we had partially come, as to what we were to do if discovered. But a second glance showed that there were but two enemies in sight, and as Arthur, to whom we looked for an example, gave no signal for such a retreat, we hastily snatched up our weapons, and placed ourselves beside him. Atollo's quick eye--for it was he--ran from one to another of us, until it rested upon Eiulo, when coming down to the margin of the brook, he pronounced his name in a low, clear voice, and beckoned him with his hand to come over to him. Pale and trembling, like a bird under the charm of the serpent, Eiulo made two or three uncertain steps towards him, as if about mechanically to obey the summons: then, as Johnny seized the skirt of his wrapper, and called out to him, "not to mind that wicked man," he paused, and looked round upon us with a glance, half appealing, half inquiring, which said more plainly than words--"Must I go?--Can you protect me--and will you?" Arthur now stepped before him, and addressed some words to Atollo in his own language, the purport of which I could only guess. The other listened attentively without evincing any surprise, and then made answer, speaking rapidly and by jerks as it were, and scanning us all the while with the eye of a hawk. When he had finished, Arthur turned to us. "This man requires us, he said, to give up Eiulo to him; he claims him as his brother's son, and says that he wishes to convey him home to Tewa. He promises to leave us unmolested if we comply, and threatens us with death if we refuse: you see it concerns us all--what do you say?" Arthur was very pale. He looked towards Morton, who said nothing, but stood leaning against one of the pillars of the Aoa, with his eyes steadfastly bent upon the ground. "Ask Eiulo," said Browne, "if this man is his uncle." The question was accordingly put, and the trembling boy answered hesitatingly, that he did not know--but he believed that he was. "Ask him," pursued Browne, "if he is willing to go with him." Arthur put the question formally, and Eiulo, grasping his arm, while Johnny still held fast by his skirt, answered with a shudder that he was afraid to go with him. "Ask him why he is afraid," continued Browne. The answer was, that he believed his uncle would kill him. These questions were put loud enough to be easily heard by Atollo, and Arthur deliberately repeated the answers first in Tahitian, and then in English. "Well," said Browne, "I am now quite ready with an answer, as far as I am concerned. I never will consent to give up the poor boy to be murdered. He is old enough to choose for himself and I think it would be right to resist the claim even of a father, under such circumstances." "Is that to be our answer?" said Arthur, looking round. It was a bold stand to take, situated as we were, and we felt it to be so; but it seemed a hard and cruel thing to yield up our little companion to the tender mercies of his unnatural relative. Though there were pale cheeks and unsteady hands among us, as we signified our concurrence in this refusal, (which we all did except Morton, who remained silent), yet we experienced a strange sense of relief when it was done, and we stood committed to the result. Arthur now motioned Johnny and Eiulo to climb into the tree, then turning to Atollo, he said that as the boy preferred remaining with us, we were resolved to protect him to the extent of our ability. By this time we had somewhat regained our self-possession, and stood grasping our weapons, though not anticipating any immediate attack. Much to my surprise, Atollo had during the conference manifested neither anger nor impatience. When Arthur announced our refusal to comply with his demand, he merely noticed with a smile our belligerent attitude, and advanced into the brook as if about to come over to the islet, swinging a long curving weapon carelessly by his side, and followed by the other savage. Browne, holding his club in his left hand, and a heavy stone in his right, stood beside me, breathing hard through his set teeth. "The foolish heathen!" exclaimed he, "does he expect to subdue us by his looks,--that he comes on in this fashion?" It did, in fact, seem as though he supposed that we would not dare to commence an attack upon him, for he continued to advance, eyeing us steadily. Just as he gained the middle of the brook, three or four more savages came out of the forest, and one of them ran towards him, with an exclamation which caused him to turn at once, and on hearing what the other eagerly uttered, with gestures indicating some intelligence of an urgent and exciting character, he walked back to the edge of the wood, and joined the group gathered there. A moment afterwards, Atollo, attended by the messenger, as he appeared to be, plunged into the forest, first giving to the others, who remained upon the shore, some direction, which from the accompanying gesture, appeared to have reference to ourselves. Johnny and Eiulo had already climbed into the Aoa, whither we stood ready to follow, at a moment's notice. The group of savages opposite us seemed to have no other object in view than to prevent our escape, for they did not offer to molest us. Soon after Atollo disappeared, two more of his party came out of the wood, and I immediately recognised one of them, who walked stiffly and with difficulty, seeming but just able to drag himself about, as the scarred savage with whom Browne had had so desperate a struggle. We now thought it prudent to effect our retreat into the tree without further loss of time, but at the first movement which we made for that purpose, the natives set up a shout, and dashed into the water towards us, probably thinking that we were about to try to escape by getting to the further shore. They pressed us so closely that we had not a moment to spare, and had barely climbed beyond their reach when they sprang after us. One active fellow caught Browne, (who was somewhat behind the rest), by the foot, and endeavoured to drag him from the trunk he was climbing, in which he would probably have succeeded, had not Max let fall a leaf-basket of stones directly upon his head, which stretched him groaning upon the ground, with the blood gushing from his mouth and nose. At this moment Atollo himself, with the rest of his party, joined our besiegers below, and at a signal from him, the greater part of them immediately commenced scaling the tree at different points. Our assailants numbered not more than thirteen or fourteen, including Browne's former foe, who did not seem to be in a condition to climb, and the man recently wounded, who was still lying upon the ground, apparently lifeless. We felt that we were now irrevocably committed to a struggle of life and death, and we were fully determined to fight manfully, and to the very last. We stationed ourselves at nearly equal distances among the branches, armed with the bludgeons previously placed there, so as to be able to hasten to any point assailed, and to assist one another as occasion should require. The savages yelled and screeched hideously, with the hope of intimidating us, but without any effect, and we kept watching them quietly, and meeting them so promptly at every point, that they were uniformly obliged to quit their hold and drop to the ground before they could effect a lodgment among the branches. Occasionally we addressed a word of encouragement to one another, or uttered an exclamation of triumph at the discomfiture of some assailant more than ordinarily fierce and resolute. But with this exception, we were as quiet as if industriously engaged in some ordinary occupation. This lasted for full fifteen minutes, without our enemies having gained the slightest advantage. Atollo himself had not, thus far, taken any part in the attack, except to direct the others. At length, he fixed his eye upon Browne, who stepping about in the top of the tree with an agility that I should not have expected from him, and wielding a tremendous club, had been signally successful in repelling our assailants. After watching him a moment, he suddenly commenced climbing a large stem near him, with the marvellous rapidity that characterised all his movements. Browne had just tumbled one of the savages to the ground howling with pain, from a crushing blow upon the wrist, and he now hastened to meet this more formidable foe. But he was too late to prevent him from getting into the tree, and he had already gained a footing upon the horizontal branches, when Browne reached the spot. Atollo was without any weapon, and this was a disadvantage that might have rendered all his strength and address unavailing, had not the foliage and the lesser branches of the tree, interfered with the swing of the long and heavy weapon of his adversary, and the footing being too insecure to permit it to be used with full effect. As Browne steadied himself and drew back for a sweeping blow, Atollo shook the boughs upon which he stood, so violently, as greatly to break the force of the stroke, which he received upon his arm, and rushing upon him before he could recover his weapon, he wrested it from his grasp, and hurled him to the ground, where he was instantly seized and secured by those below. While Atollo, armed with Browne's club, advanced upon Max and Arthur, who were nearest him, several of his followers, taking advantage of the diversion thus effected, succeeded in ascending also, and in a few moments they were making their way towards us from all sides. Leaving them to complete what he had so well begun, Atollo hastened towards the spot where Johnny and Eiulo were endeavouring to conceal themselves among the foliage. Though now outnumbered, and hopeless of success, we continued a desperate resistance. The ferocity of our adversaries was excited to the highest pitch. There was scarcely one of them who had not received some injury in the attack, sufficiently severe to exasperate, without disabling him. We had used our clubs with such vigour and resolution in opposing their attempts at climbing, that every second man at least, had a crushed hand or a bruised head, and all had received more or less hard blows. Smarting with pain, and exulting in the prospect of speedy and ample revenge, they pressed upon us with yells and cries that showed that there was no mercy for us if taken. But even at that trying moment our courage did out fail or falter. We stood together near the centre of the tree, where the branches were strong and the footing firm. Only a part of our assailants had weapons, and, perceiving the utter desperation with which we fought, they drew back a little distance until clubs could be passed up from below, and thus afforded us a momentary respite. But we well knew that it was only momentary, and that in their present state of mind, these men would dispatch us with as little scruple as they would mischievous wild beasts hunted and brought to bay. "Nothing now remains," said Morton, "but to die courageously: we have done every thing else that we could do." "It does appear to have come to that at last," said Arthur. "If I did unwisely in advising resistance, and perilling your lives as well as my own, I now ask your forgiveness; on my own account I do not regret it." "There is nothing to forgive," answered Morton, "you did what you believed was right, and if I counselled otherwise, you will do me the justice to believe that it was because I differed with you in judgment, and not because I shrunk from the consequences." "I never did you the injustice to think otherwise," answered Arthur. "If our friends could but know what has become of us," said Max, brushing away a tear, "and how we died here, fighting manfully to the last, I should feel more entirely resigned; but I cannot bear to think that our fate will never be known." "Here they come once more," said Arthur, as the savages, having now obtained their weapons, advanced to finish their work, "and now, may God have mercy upon us!" We all joined devoutly in Arthur's prayer, for we believed that death was at hand. We then grasped our weapons, and stood ready for the attack. At this instant a long and joyous cry from Eiulo reached our ears. For several minutes he had been eluding the pursuit of Atollo with a wonderful agility, partly the effect of frantic dread. Just when it seemed as though he could no longer escape, he suddenly uttered this cry, repeating the words, "Wakatta! Wakatta!"--then springing to the ground, he ran towards the brook, but was intercepted and seized by one of the savages below. There was an immediate answer to Eiulo's cry, in one of the deepest and most powerful voices I had ever heard, and which seemed to come from the west shore of the stream. Looking in that direction I saw, and recognised at once, the lion-like old man, who had fled along the beach, pursued by Atollo and his party. Several men, apparently his followers, stood around him. He now bounded across the stream, towards the spot where Eiulo was still struggling with his captor, and calling loudly for help. Atollo instantly sprang to the ground, and flew to the spot; then, with a shrill call, he summoned his men about him. Eiulo's outcry, and the answer which had been made to it, seemed to have produced a startling effect upon Atollo and his party. For the moment we appeared to be entirely forgotten. "This must be Wakatta," said Arthur eagerly, "it can be no other. There is hope yet." With a rapid sign for us to follow, he glided down the nearest trunk, and, darting past Atollo's party, he succeeded in the midst of the confusion, in reaching the old man and his band, who stood upon the shore of the islet. Morton and I were equally successful. Max, who came last, was observed, and an effort made to intercept him. But dodging one savage, and bursting from the grasp of another, who seized him by the arm as he was running at full speed, he also joined us, and we ranged ourselves beside Wakatta and his men. Browne, Eiulo, and Johnny, were prisoners. It now seemed as though the conflict was about to be renewed upon more equal terms. Our new and unexpected allies numbered seven, including their venerable leader. On the other hand, our adversaries were but twelve, and of these, several showed evident traces of the severe usage they had recently received, and were hardly in a condition for a fresh struggle. There was a pause of some minutes, during which the two parties stood confronting each other, with hostile, but hesitating looks. Wakatta then addressed a few words to Atollo, in the course of which he several times repeated Eiulo's name, pointing towards him at the same time, and appearing to demand that he should be released. The reply was an unhesitating and decided refusal, as I easily gathered from the look and manner that accompanied it. Wakatta instantly swung up his club, uttering a deep guttural exclamation, which seemed to be the signal for attack, for his people raised their weapons and advanced as if about to rush upon the others. We had in the meantime provided ourselves with clubs, a number of which were scattered about upon the ground, and we prepared to assist the party with whom we had become so strangely associated. But at a word and gesture from Atollo, Wakatta lowered his weapon again, and the men on both sides paused in their hostile demonstrations, while their leaders once more engaged in conference. Atollo now seemed to make some proposition to Wakatta, which was eagerly accepted by the latter. Each then spoke briefly to his followers, who uttered cries of the wildest excitement, and suddenly became silent again. The two next crossed together to the opposite shore, and while we stood gazing in a bewildered manner at these proceedings, and wondering what could be their meaning, the natives also crossed the brook, and formed a wide circle around their chiefs, on an open grassy space at the edge of the forest. We still kept with Wakatta's party, who arranged themselves in a semicircle behind him. "What does this mean!" inquired Morton of Arthur, "it looks as though they were about to engage in single combat." "That is in fact their purpose," answered Arthur. "And will that settle the difficulty between these hostile parties?" said Morton, "will there not be a general fight after all, whichever leader is victor?" "I rather think not," answered Arthur, "the party whose champion falls, will be too much discouraged to renew the fight--they will probably run at once." "Then our situation will be no better than before, in case the old warrior should prove unfortunate. Can't you speak to his followers and get them to stand ready to attack their enemies if their chief falls." "I will try what I can do," answered Arthur, "and let us be ready to act with them." Meantime the two principal parties had completed their preparations for the deadly personal combat, in which they were about to engage. Atollo took from one of his followers a long-handled curving weapon, the inner side of which was lined with a row of sharks' teeth, and then placed himself in the middle of the open space, first carefully kicking out of the way a number of fallen branches which strewed the ground. His manner was confident, and clearly bespoke an anticipated triumph. Wakatta was armed with the massive club, set with spikes of iron-wood, which he carried when I first saw him upon the shore. He advanced deliberately towards his adversary, until they stood face to face, and within easy reach of one another's weapons. The men on both sides remained perfectly quiet, eyeing every movement of their respective champions with the intensest interest. In the breathless silence that prevailed, the gentle murmur of the brook sliding over its pebbly bed, and even the dropping of a withered leaf, could be heard distinctly. Glancing over to the islet, I saw that Browne, although his hands appeared to be bound behind him, had rolled himself to the edge of the brook, from which he was watching what was going forward. Each of the two combatants regarded the other with the air of a man conscious that he is about to meet a formidable adversary; but in Atollo's evil eye, there gleamed an assured and almost exulting confidence, that increased my anxiety for his aged opponent; his manner, nevertheless, was cautious and wary, and he did not suffer the slightest movement of Wakatta to escape him. They stood opposite each other, neither seeming to be willing to commence the conflict, until Wakatta, with an impatient gesture, warned his adversary to defend himself, and then swinging up his ponderous club in both hands, aimed a blow at him, which the other avoided by springing lightly backwards. And now the fight commenced in earnest. Atollo made no attempt to guard or parry the blows levelled at him--which would indeed have been idle-- but with astonishing agility and quickness of eye, he sprang aside, or leaped back, always in time to save himself. He kept moving around the old man, provoking his attacks by feints and half-blows, but making no serious attack himself. There was a cool, calculating expression upon his sharp and cruel countenance, and he did not appear to be half so earnest or excited as his antagonist. I saw plainly that the wily savage was endeavouring to provoke the other to some careless or imprudent movement, of which he stood ready to take instant and fatal advantage. At length some such opportunity as he was waiting for, was afforded him. The old warrior, growing impatient of this indecisive manoeuvring, began to press his adversary harder, and to follow him up with an apparent determination to bring matters to a speedy issue. Atollo retreated before him, until he was driven to the edge of the brook, where he paused, as if resolved to make a stand. Wakatta now seemed to think that he had brought his foe to bay, and whirling round his club, he delivered a sweeping blow full at his head with such fury, that when Atollo avoided it by dropping upon one knee, the momentum of the ponderous weapon swung its owner half round, and before he had time to recover himself, his watchful adversary, springing lightly up, brought down his keen-edged weapon full upon his grey head, inflicting a ghastly wound. And now Atollo's whole demeanour changed: the time for caution and coolness was passed; the moment for destroying his disabled foe had come. While his followers set up an exulting yell, he darted forward to follow up his advantage: the triumphant ferocity of his look is not to be described. Wakatta was yet staggering from the effect of the blow upon his head, when he received a second, which slightly gashed his left shoulder, and glancing from it, laid open his cheek. But to my astonishment, the strong old man, cruelly wounded as he was, seemed to be neither disabled nor dismayed. The keen-edged, but light weapon of Atollo was better calculated to inflict painful wounds than mortal injuries. Either blow, had it been from a weapon like that of Wakatta, would have terminated the combat. Before Atollo could follow up his success by a third and decisive stroke, the old warrior had recovered himself and though bleeding profusely, he looked more formidable than ever. He at once resumed the offensive, and with such vigour, that the other, with all his surprising activity, now found it difficult to elude his rapid but steady attacks. He was now thoroughly aroused. Atollo seemed gradually to become confused and distressed, as he was closely followed around the circle without an instant's respite being allowed him. At last he was forced into the stream, where he made a desperate stand, with the manifest determination to conquer or perish there. But Wakatta rushed headlong upon him, and holding his club in his right hand, he received upon his left arm, without any attempt to avoid it, a blow which Atollo aimed at his head: at the same instant he closed, and succeeded in seizing his adversary by the wrist. Once in the old man's grasp, he was a mere child, and in spite of his tremendous efforts, his other hand was soon mastered, and he was thrown to the ground. It was a horrible scene that followed. I wished that the life of the vanquished man could have been spared. But his excited foe had no thought of mercy, and shortening his club, he held him fast with one hand, and despatched him at a single blow with the other. CHAPTER THIRTY THREE. THE MIGRATION. A TEWAN MD--EXCHANGE OF CIVILITIES--MAX'S FAREWELL BREAKFAST--A GLANCE AT THE FUTURE. "We go from the shores where those blue billows roll, But that Isle, and those waters, shall live in my soul." As the victor rose to his feet, his followers uttered a fierce yell, and precipitated themselves upon the opposite party, which instantly dispersed and fled. Wakatta cast a half-remorseful glance at the corpse of his adversary, and, raising his powerful voice, recalled his men from the pursuit. Then wading into the brook, he began to wash the gore from his head and face: one of his people, who from his official air of bustling alacrity, must have been a professional character, or at least an amateur surgeon, examined the wounds, and dexterously applied an improvised poultice of chewed leaves to his gashed face, using broad strips of bark for bandages. Meantime Arthur hastened over to the islet, and released our companions from the ligatures of tappa which confined their limbs. Eiulo was no sooner freed, than he ran eagerly to Wakatta, who took him in his arms, and embraced him tenderly. After a rapid interchange of questions and replies, during which they both shed tears, they seemed to be speaking of ourselves, Eiulo looking frequently towards us, and talking with great animation and earnestness. They then approached the place where we were standing, and Wakatta spoke a few words, pointing alternately from Eiulo to us. Arthur made some reply, whereupon the old warrior went to him, and bending down his gigantic frame gave him a cordial hug; his fresh bandaged wounds probably caused him to dispense with the usual ceremony of rubbing faces. "I expect it will be our turn next," said Max, with a grimace, "if so, observe how readily I shall adapt myself to savage etiquette, and imitate my example." It proved as he anticipated, for Wakatta, who must have received a highly flattering account of us from Eiulo, was not satisfied until he had bestowed upon each one of us, Johnny included, similar tokens of his regard, Max rushing forward, with an air of "empressement," and taking the initiative, as he had promised. The "surgeon," who seemed to think that some friendly notice might also be expected from him, in virtue of his official character, now advanced with a patronising air, and in his turn paid us the same civilities, not omitting the rubbing of faces, as his chief had done. Another one of our "allies," as Max called them, a huge, good-natured-looking savage, picked up Johnny, very much as one would a lap-dog or a pet kitten, and began to chuck him under the chin, and stroke his hair and cheeks, greatly to the annoyance of the object of these flattering attentions, who felt his dignity sadly compromised by such treatment. As soon as these friendly advances were over, Arthur entered into a conversation with Wakatta, which, from the earnest expression of the countenance of the latter, appeared to relate to something of great interest. Presently he spoke to his men, who seized their weapons with an air of alacrity, as if preparing for some instant expedition, and Arthur, turning to us, said that we must set out in a body for the inlet where we had seen the canoe of the other party, as it was thought of the utmost importance to secure it if possible. We started at once, at a rapid rate, Wakatta leading the way, with tremendous strides, and the big, good-natured fellow, taking Johnny upon his back, in spite of his protestations that he could run himself, quite as fast as was necessary. But on reaching the inlet we found that the other party had been too quick for us; they were already through the surf, and under sail, coasting along towards the opening in the reef opposite Palm-Islet, probably with the intention of returning to Tewa. It is now eight days since the events last narrated took place. On the day succeeding, we buried Atollo on the shore opposite Banyan islet, together with one of his followers, who had also been killed or mortally wounded in the conflict with us. Two others of them, who were too badly hurt to accompany the hasty flight to the inlet, are still living in the woods, Wakatta having strictly forbidden his people to injure them. I ought here to explain the circumstances, as Arthur learned them from Wakatta, which brought the natives to our island. A civil war had recently broken out in Tewa, growing out of the plots of the Frenchmen resident there, and some discontented chiefs who made common cause with them. One of the foreigners, connected by marriage with the family of a powerful chief, had been subjected by the authority of Eiulo's father, to a summary and severe punishment, for an outrage of which he had been clearly convicted. This was the immediate cause of the outbreak. Atollo and his followers had issued from their fastnesses and joined the insurgents; a severe and bloody battle had been fought, in which they were completely successful, taking the chief himself prisoner, and dispersing his adherents. Wakatta, attended by the six followers now with him, was at this time absent upon an excursion to a distant part of the island, and the first intelligence which he received of what had taken place, was accompanied by the notice that Atollo, with a formidable band, was then in eager search of him. Knowing well the relentless hatred borne him by that strange and desperate man, and that Tewa could furnish no lurking-place where he would be long secure from his indefatigable pursuit, he had hastily embarked for the island where he had once before taken refuge, under somewhat similar circumstances. Hither his implacable foe had pursued him. This statement will sufficiently explain what has been already related. All our plans are yet uncertain. Wakatta meditates a secret return to Tewa, confident that by his presence there, now that the formidable Atollo is no more, he can restore his chief to liberty and to his hereditary rights, if he yet survives. An experiment has been made with the yawl, in order to ascertain whether she can safely convey our entire party, savage and civilised, in case we should conclude to leave the island. The result showed that it would scarcely be prudent for so great a number to embark in her upon a voyage to Tewa, and Wakatta and his people have now commenced building a canoe, which is to be of sufficient size to carry twenty persons. Browne's prejudices against the "heathen savages," have been greatly softened by what he has seen of these natives, and he says that, "if the rest of them are equally well-behaved, one might manage to get along with them quite comfortably." Max has taken a great fancy to Wakatta, whom he emphatically pronounces "a trump," a "regular brick," besides bestowing upon him a variety of other elegant and original designations, of the like complimentary character. This may be owing in part, to the fact, that the old warrior has promised him a bread-fruit plantation, and eventually a pretty grand-daughter of his own for a wife, if he will accompany him to Tewa and settle there. As the preparations of our allies advance towards completion, we are more and more reconciled to the thought of embarking with them. Johnny has already commenced packing his shells and "specimens" for removal. Max has ascertained, greatly to his relief, for he had some doubts on the subject, that the gridiron and other cooking utensils can be stowed safely in the locker of the yawl, and he anticipates much benevolent gratification in introducing these civilised "institutions," among the barbarians of Tewa. The intestine feuds which still rage there, and the probability that "our side," will find themselves in the minority, furnish the chief grounds of objection to the step contemplated. But we would cheerfully incur almost any danger that promises to increase our prospect of ultimately reaching home. There is some talk of a preliminary reconnoitring expedition, by Wakatta and two or three of his people, for the purpose of getting some definite information as to the present position of affairs at Tewa, before setting out for it in a body. Max, yesterday, finished his miniature ship, and exhorted me to "wind up" our history forthwith, with a Homeric description of the great battle at the islet, and our heroic defence of the banyan tree. He declares it to be his intention to enclose the manuscript in the hold of the vessel and launch her when half-way to Tewa, in the assured confidence that the winds and waves will waft it to its destination, or to use his own phrase,--"that we shall yet be heard of in Hardscrabble." Five days ago, the canoe was completed, and on the succeeding afternoon, Wakatta, accompanied by "the doctor," and two other of his people, sailed for Tewa, for the purpose of endeavouring to learn whether it would be prudent for us to venture thither at present. We have been living of late at the cabin, and our "allies" have made an encampment by the lake, within a hundred paces of us. The state of feverish expectation naturally produced by our present circumstances, prevents any thing like regular occupation. We do nothing all the day but wander restlessly about among the old haunts which were our favourites in the peaceful time of our early sojourn here. Max has endeavoured to relieve the tedium, and get up an interest of some sort, by renewing his attempts against the great eel. But the patriarch is as wary, and his stronghold beneath the roots of the buttress tree as impregnable as ever, and all efforts to his prejudice, whether by force or stratagem, still prove unavailing. To escape, in some measure, the humiliation of so mortifying a defeat, Max now affects to be convinced that his venerable antagonist is no eel after all, but an old water-snake, inheriting his full share of the ancient wisdom of the serpent, and by whom it is consequently no disgrace for any mortal man to be outwitted. For several days past we have even neglected preparing any regular meals, satisfying our hunger as it arose with whatever could be most readily procured. Max pronounces this last, "an alarming indication of the state of utter demoralisation towards which we are hastening, and, in fact, the commencement of a relapse into barbarism." "One of the chief points of difference," he says, "between civilised and savage man, is, that the former eats at stated and regular intervals, as a matter of social duty, whereas the latter only eats when he is hungry!" _Two days later_. Wakatta has returned from his expedition, full of hope and confidence, and actually looking ten years younger than when I first saw him. He says that the position of affairs at Tewa is most promising. The recently victorious rebels have fallen into fierce contentions among themselves, and a large faction of them, with the leaders of which he has entered into communication, is willing to unite with him against the others, upon being assured of indemnity for past offences. Eiulo's father still lives, and has already gathered the nucleus of a force capable of retrieving his fortunes. All is now finally determined upon, and we only wait for a favourable breeze to bid adieu to these shores. The morning of Wakatta's return, also witnessed another event of nearly equal importance. I allude to a great farewell breakfast, given by Max in celebration of our approaching departure, as well as for the purpose of stemming the current of the demoralising influence above alluded to. The "founder of the feast," together with Eiulo and Johnny, was up preparing it with his own hospitable hands, a full hour before the rest of us were awake. It consisted of all the delicacies and luxuries that our island can afford: there were roasted oysters fresh from the shore, and poached eggs fresh from the nest, (Max had despatched one of the natives to Sea-birds' Point after them before daylight); then there were fish nicely broiled, and mealy taro, and baked bread-fruit hot from a subterranean Polynesian oven. In the enjoyment of this generous fare, our drooping spirits rose, and Max, as was his wont, became discursive. "What a humiliating reflection," exclaimed he, "that we should have permitted ourselves to be so disturbed and fluttered, by the prospect of a slight change in our affairs! Why should we distrust our destiny, or shrink from our mission? Why these nervous apprehensions, and these unreasonable doubts?"--(Hear! hear!) "`There _is_ a providence that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will.' "Let us accept, then, the belief which all things tend to confirm, that a glorious future awaits us in our new sphere of action at Tewa!" "Ah!" sighed Browne, after a momentary pause, "Tewa may be a fine place--but I doubt if they have any such oysters as these there." The action accompanying these words must have given Eiulo a clue to their purport, for he hastened eagerly to protest, through Arthur, as interpreter, that the oysters at Tewa were much larger and fatter; he added, "that since we liked them so much, he would have them all `tabooed,' as soon as we arrived, so that `common people,' wouldn't dare for their lives to touch one." "I used to regard the `taboo,'" said Browne, "as an arbitrary and oppressive heathen custom. But how ignorant and prejudiced we sometimes are in regard to foreign institutions! We must be very careful when we get there about introducing rash innovations upon the settled order of things." "We will establish an enlightened system of common schools," said Max, "to begin with, and Arthur shall also open a Sunday-school." "And in the course of time we will found a college, in which Browne shall be professor of Elocution and Oratory," said Morton. "And you," resumed Max, "shall have a commission as Major-General in the Republican army of Tewa, which you shall instruct in modern tactics, and lead to victory against the rebels." "In the Royal army, if you please," interrupted Browne; "Republicanism is one of those crude and pestilent innovations which I shall set my face against! Can any one breathe so treasonable a suggestion in the presence of the heir-apparent to the throne?--If such there be, Major-General Morton, I call upon you to attach him for a traitor!" "And I," cried Johnny, "what shall I do!" "Why," answered Max, "you shall rejoice the hearts of the Tewan juveniles, by introducing among them the precious lore of the story-books. The rising generation shall no longer remain in heathen ignorance of Cinderella, and Jack of the Bean-stalk, and his still more illustrious cousin, the Giant-killer! The sufferings of Sinbad, the voyages of Gulliver, the achievements of Munchausen, the adventures of Crusoe, shall yet become to them familiar as household words!" "And Archer's mission shall be no less dignified and useful," resumed Browne, "he shall keep the records of the monarchy, and become the faithful historian of the happy, prosperous, and glorious reign of Eiulo the First!" THE END. 
53692	----	made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.) The Flying Girl Series The Flying Girl and Her Chum [Illustration: "Well, I declare!" exclaimed Orissa, sitting up.] The Flying Girl And Her Chum BY EDITH VAN DYNE Author of The Flying Girl; Aunt Jane's Nieces Series Etc. Illustrated by Joseph Pierre Nuyttens [Illustration] The Reilly & Britton Co. Chicago Copyright, 1912 by The Reilly & Britton Co. _The Flying Girl and Her Chum_ CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I THE GIRL WITH THE YACHT 9 II THE GIRL WITH THE AËROPLANE 31 III A PRODIGY IN AERONAUTICS 46 IV THE ALUMINUM CHEST 54 V THE LAST DROP OF GASOLINE 63 VI CASTAWAYS 73 VII TWO GIRLS AND ONE ISLAND 87 VIII AN OWL CONCERT 97 IX MISS COLUMBUS AND MISS CRUSOE 106 X MADELINE DENTRY'S PROPOSITION 117 XI A GAME OF CHECKERS 126 XII THE QUEST OF THE "SALVADOR" 139 XIII CAPRICIOUS FATE 148 XIV ON THE BLUFF 159 XV BOAT AHOY! 166 XVI AN ISLAND KINGDOM 171 XVII DON MIGUEL DEL BORGITIS 183 XVIII THE MASK OFF 192 XIX AN EXCITING RACE 203 XX BESIEGED 211 XXI CAPTURING AN AËROPLANE 220 XXII RAMON GANZA 231 XXIII A DESPERATE ALTERNATIVE 243 XXIV THE DIPLOMACY OF CHESTY TODD 256 XXV SCUTTLED 270 XXVI ORISSA RETURNS 279 XXVII FACING THE CRISIS 286 XXVIII THE PRISONER 290 XXIX ORISSA DECIDES 304 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS "Well, I declare!" exclaimed Orissa, sitting up. _Frontispiece_ "It--it has run away with 'em, Steve. It's gone wrong, man; there's danger ahead!" _Page_ 120 Suddenly a huge form filled the doorway, inspecting the newcomers with a quick, comprehensive glance. _Page_ 184 Madeline, seated at the table, studied the faces before her curiously, while an amused smile played around her lips. "We cannot accept our enemy's proposition," she announced. _Page_ 246 The Flying Girl and Her Chum CHAPTER I THE GIRL WITH THE YACHT Perhaps they call them "parlor" cars because they bear so little resemblance to the traditional parlor--a word and a room now sadly out of style. In reality they are ordinary cars with two rows of swivel seats down the center; seats supposed to pivot in every direction unless their action is impeded by the passenger's hand baggage, which the porter promptly piles around the chairs, leaving one barely room to place his feet and no chance at all to swing the seat. Thus imprisoned, you ride thoughtfully on your way, wondering if the exclusive "parlor car" is really worth the extra fee. However, those going to San Diego, in the Southland of California, are obliged to choose between plebeian coaches and the so-called "parlor" outfit, and on a mild, sunny morning in February the San Diego train rolled out of the Los Angeles depot with every swivel seat in the car de luxe occupied by a passenger. They were a mixed assemblage, mostly tourists bound for Colorado, yet quite unknown to one another; or, at least, not on speaking terms. There was a Spanish-looking gentleman in white; two prim, elderly damsels in black; a mamma with three subdued children and a maid, and a fat man who read a book and scowled at every neighbor who ventured a remark louder than a whisper. Forward in the car the first three seats were taken by a party from New York, and this little group of travelers attracted more than one curious glance. "That," murmured one of the prim ladies to the other, "is Madeline Dentry, the famous heiress. No one knows how many millions she has just inherited, but she is said to be one of the richest girls in America. The stout lady is her chaperon; I believe--she's a distant relative--an aunt, or something--and the thin, nervous man, the stout lady's husband, is Madeline Dentry's financial manager." "I know," replied the other, nodding; "he used to be her guardian before she came of legal age, a month or so ago. His name is Tupper--Martin J. Tupper--and I'm told he is well connected." "He is, indeed, to have the handling of Madeline's millions." "I mean in a family way. The Dentrys were nobodies, you know, until Madeline's father cornered the mica mines of the world and made his millions; but the Tuppers were a grand old Baltimore family in the days of Washington, always poor as poverty and eminently aristocratic." "Do you know the Tuppers?" "I have never met them. I strongly disapprove of their close association with Miss Dentry--a fly-away miss who kept Bryn Mawr in a turmoil while she was a student there, and is now making an absurd use of her money." "In what way?" "Haven't you heard? She has purchased Lord Tweedmonk's magnificent yacht, and has had it taken to San Diego harbor. I was told by the bell boy at the Los Angeles Hotel--bell boys are singularly well-informed, I have observed--that Madeline Dentry is to take her new yacht on a cruise to Hawaii and Japan. She is probably now on her way to see her extravagant and foolish plaything." "Dreadful!" said the other, with a shudder. "I wonder how anyone can squander a fortune on a yacht when all those poor heathens are starving in China. What a pity the girl has no mother to guide her!" "Tell me about the beautiful girl seated next to Madeline." "I do not know who she is. Some stranger to the rich young lady, I imagine. They're not speaking. Yes, she is really beautiful, that girl. Her eyes are wonderful, and her coloring perfect." "And she seems so modest and diffident." "Evidence of good breeding, whoever she may be; quite the opposite of Madeline Dentry, whose people have always been rapid and rude." The fat gentleman was now glaring at the old ladies so ferociously that they became awed and relapsed into silence. The others in the car seemed moodily reserved. Mr. Martin J. Tupper read a newspaper. His stolid wife, seated beside him, closed her eyes and napped. Madeline Dentry, abandoning a book that was not interesting, turned a casual glance upon her neighbor in the next chair--the beautiful girl who had won the approval of the two old maids. Madeline herself had a piquant, attractive countenance, but her neighbor was gazing dreamily out of the window and seemed not to have noticed her. In this listless attitude she might be inspected at leisure, and Madeline was astonished at the perfect profile, the sheen of her magnificent hair, the rich warm tintings of a skin innocent of powders or cosmetics. Critically the rich young lady glanced at the girl's attire. It was exceedingly simple but of costly material. She wore no jewels or ornaments, nor did she need them to enhance her attractiveness. Perhaps feeling herself under observation, the girl slowly turned her head until her eyes met those of Madeline. They were gloriously blue eyes, calm and intelligent, wide open and fearless. Yet with a faint smile she quickly withdrew them before Madeline's earnest gaze. "Will you have a chocolate?" "Thank you." The strong hand with its well-shaped fingers did not fumble in Madeline's box of bonbons. She took a chocolate, smiled again, and with a half shy glance into her neighbor's face proceeded to nibble the confection. Madeline was charmed. "Are you traveling alone?" she asked. "Yes. I am to meet my brother and--some friends--in San Diego." "I am Miss Dentry--Madeline Dentry. My home is in New York." "And mine is in Los Angeles. I am not straying very far away, you see." Madeline was piqued that her hint was disregarded. "And your name!" she asked sweetly. The girl hesitated an instant. Then she said: "I am Miss Kane." Mr. Tupper looked up from his newspaper. "Kane?" he repeated. "Bless me! That's the name of the Flying Girl." "So it is," admitted Miss Kane, with a little laugh. "But flying is not in your line, I imagine," said Madeline, admiring anew the dainty personality of her chance acquaintance. "At present our train is dragging, rather than flying," was the merry response. Mr. Tupper was interested. He carefully folded his paper and joined in the conversation. "The idea of any girl attempting to do stunts in the air!" he remarked disdainfully. "Your namesake, Miss Kane, deserves to break her venturesome, unmaidenly neck--as she probably will, in the near future." "Nonsense, Uncle!" cried Madeline; "Orissa Kane, so far as I've read of her--and I've read everything I could find--is not at all unmaidenly. She's venturesome, if you like, and manages an aëroplane better than many of the bird-men can; but I see nothing more unwomanly in flying than in running an automobile, and you know _I_ do that to perfection. This Flying Girl, as she is called, is famous all over America for her daring, her coolness in emergencies and her exceptional skill. I want to see her fly, while I'm out here, for I understand there's to be an aviation meet of some sort in San Diego next week, and that Orissa Kane is engaged to take part in it." "Flying is good sport, I admit," said Mr. Tupper, "but it would give me the shivers to see a girl attempt it. And, once a machine is in the air, you can't tell whether a man or woman is flying it; they all look alike to the watcher below. Don't go to this aviation meet, Madeline; you've seen girls fly. There was Miss Moissant, at Garden City----" "She barely got off the ground," said Miss Dentry. "And there was Blanche Scott----" "They're all imitators of Orissa Kane!" declared Madeline impatiently. "There's only one real Flying Girl, Uncle, and if she's on the program at the San Diego meet I'm going to see her." "You'll be disappointed," averred the gentleman. "She's a native of these parts, they say; I presume some big-boned, masculine, orange-picking female----" "Wrong again, sir! The reporters all rave about her. They say she has a charming personality, is lovely and sweet and modest and--and----" She paused, her eyes dilating a little as she marked the red flush creeping over Miss Kane's neck and face. Then Madeline drew in her breath sharply and cast a warning glance at her uncle. Mr. Tupper, however, was obtuse. He knew nothing of Madeline's suspicions. "Have you ever seen this dare-devil namesake of yours, Miss Kane?" he asked indifferently. "Yes, sir," she answered in a quiet tone. "And what did you think of her?" Madeline was powerless to stop him. Miss Kane, however, looked at her questioner with candid eyes, a frank smile upon her beautiful face. "She has a fine aëroplane," was her reply. "Her brother invented it, you know. It's the Kane Aircraft, the safest and speediest yet made, and Stephen Kane has taught his sister how to handle it. That she flies his Aircraft successfully is due, I am sure, to her brother's genius; not to any especial merit of her own." Mr. Tupper was staring now, and beginning to think. He remembered reading a similar assertion attributed to Orissa Kane, the Flying Girl, who always insisted on crediting her brother with whatever success she achieved. Perhaps this girl had read it, too; or, perhaps---- He began to "put two and two together." Southern California was the favorite haunt of the Flying Girl; there was to be an aviation meet presently at San Diego; and on this train, bound for San Diego, was riding a certain Miss Kane who answered to Madeline's description of the aërial heroine--a description he now remembered to have often read himself. Uncertain what to say, he asked haltingly: "Do you call it 'aviatrix' or 'aviatrice'? The feminine of 'aviator,' you know." "I should say 'aviatress,' now that you appeal to me," was the laughing reply. "Some of the newspaper men, who love to coin new words, have tried to saddle 'aviatrice' on the girl aviator, and the French have dubbed her 'aviatrix' without rhyme or reason. It seems to me that if 'seamstress,' 'governess' or 'hostess' is proper, 'aviatress' is also correct and, moreover, it is thoroughly American. But in--in the profession--on the aviation field--they call themselves 'aviators,' whether men or women, just as an author is always an 'author,' regardless of sex." Mr. Tupper had made up his mind, by this time. He reasoned that a girl who talked so professionally of aviation terms must be something more than a novice, and straggled to remember if he had inadvertently said anything to annoy or humiliate Miss Kane. For, if the little maid so demurely seated before him was indeed the famous Flying Girl, the gentleman admitted he had good reason to admire her. Madeline was watching his embarrassment with an expression of amusement, but would not help him out of his dilemma. So Mr. Tupper went straight to the heart of the misunderstanding, as perhaps was best under the circumstances. "Your first name is Orissa?" he inquired, gently. "It is, sir." "Won't you have another chocolate!" asked Madeline. Orissa took another chocolate, reflecting how impossible it seemed to hide her identity, even from utter strangers. Not that she regretted, in any way, the celebrity she had gained by flying her brother Stephen's Aircraft, but it would have been so nice to have ridden to-day with these pleasant people without listening to the perfunctory words of praise and adulation so persistently lavished upon her since she had acquired fame. "I knew Cumberford some years ago," continued Mr. Tupper, rather aimlessly. "Cumberford's your manager, I believe!" "Yes, sir; and my brother's partner." "Good chap, Cumberford. Had a queer daughter, I remember; an impossible child, with the airs of a princess and the eyes of a sorceress. She's grown up, by this time, I suppose." Miss Kane smiled. "Sybil Cumberford is my best chum," she replied. "The description still applies, so far as the airs and eyes are concerned; but the child is a young lady now, and a very lovable young lady, her friends think." "Doubtless, doubtless," Mr. Tupper said hastily. "If Cumberford is in San Diego I shall be glad to renew our acquaintance." "You are bound for Coronado, I suppose," remarked Orissa, to change the subject. "Only for a few days' stay," Madeline answered. "Then we expect to make a sea voyage to Honolulu." "That will be delightful," said the girl. "I've lived many years on the shores of the Pacific, but have never made a voyage farther to sea than Catalina. I'm told Honolulu is a fascinating place; but it needs be to draw one away from Coronado." "You like Coronado, then?" "All this South Country is a real paradise," declared Orissa. "I have had opportunity to compare it with other parts of America, and love it better after each comparison. But I am ignorant of foreign countries, and can only say that if they excel Southern California they are too good for humans to live in and ought to be sacred to the fairies." Madeline laughed gayly. "I know you now!" she exclaimed; "you are what is called out here a 'booster.' But from my limited experience in your earthly paradise I cannot blame you." "Yes, we are all 'boosters,'" asserted the younger girl, "and I'm positive you will join our ranks presently. I love this country especially because one can fly here winter and summer." "You are fond of flying?" "Yes. At first I didn't care very much for it, but it grows on one until its fascinations are irresistible. I have the most glorious sense of freedom when I'm in the air--way up, where I love best to be--but during my recent exhibitions in the East I nearly froze making the high flights. It is a little cold even here when you are half a mile up, but it is by no means unbearable." "They call you a 'dare-devil,' in the newspapers," remarked Mr. Tupper, eyeing her reflectively; "but I can scarcely believe one so--so young and--and--girlish has ventured to do all the foolish aërial tricks you are credited with." Mrs. Tupper had by this time opened her eyes and was now listening in amazement. "Yes," she added, reprovingly, "all those spiral dips and volplaning and--and--figure-eights are more suited to a circus performer than to a young girl, it seems to me." This lady's face persistently wore a bland and unmeaning smile, which had been so carefully cultivated in her youth that it had become habitual and wreathed her chubby features even when she was asleep, giving one the impression that she wore a mask. Now her stern eyes belied the smirk of her face, but Orissa merely smiled. "I am not a 'dare-devil,' I assure you," she said, addressing Mr. Tupper rather than his wife. "I know the newspapers call me that, and compare me with the witch on a broomstick; but in truth I am as calculating and cold as any aviator in America. Everything I do is figured out with mathematical precision and I never take a single chance that I can foresee. I know the air currents, and all their whims and peculiarities, and how to counteract them. What may seem to the spectators to be daring, and even desperate, is often the safest mode of flying, provided you understand your machine and the conditions of the air. To volplane from a height of five or ten thousand feet, for example, is safer than from a slight elevation, for the further you drop the better air-cushion is formed under your planes, and you ride as gently as when suspended from a parachute." Madeline was listening eagerly. "Are you afraid?" she asked. "Afraid? Why should I be, with my brother's wonderful engine at my back and perfect control of every part of my machine?" "Suppose the engine should some time fail you?" "Then I would volplane to the ground." "And if the planes, or braces, or fastenings break?" "No fear of that. The Kane Aircraft is strong enough for any aërial purpose and I examine every brace and strut before I start my fight--merely to satisfy myself they have not been maliciously tampered with." Then Madeline sprung her important question: "Do you ever take a passenger?" Orissa regarded Miss Dentry with a whimsical smile. "Sometimes," she said. "Do you imagine you would like to fly?" "No--no, indeed!" cried Mr. Tupper in a horrified voice, and Mrs. Tupper echoed; "How absurd!" But Madeline answered quietly: "If you could manage to take me I am sure I would enjoy the experience." "I will consider it and let you know later," said the Flying Girl, thoughtfully. "My chum, Sybil Cumberford, has made several short flights with me; but Sybil's head is perfectly balanced and no altitude affects it. Often those who believe they would enjoy flying become terrified once they are in the air." "Nothing could terrify Madeline, I am sure," asserted Mrs. Tupper, in a rasping voice; "but she is too important a personage to risk her life foolishly. I shall insist that she at once abandon the preposterous idea. Abandon it, Madeline! I thought your new yacht a venturesome thing to indulge in, but flying is far, far worse." "Oh; have you a yacht?" inquired Orissa, turning eagerly to the other girl. "Yes; the _Salvador_. It is now lying in San Diego harbor. I've not seen my new craft as yet, but intend it shall take us to Honolulu and perhaps to Japan." "How delightful," cried Orissa, with enthusiasm. "Would you like to join our party?" "Oh, thank you; I couldn't," quite regretfully; "I am too busy just now advancing the fortunes of my brother Stephen, who is really the most clever inventor of aëroplanes in the world. Don't smile, please; he is, indeed! The world may not admit it as yet, but it soon will. Have you heard of his latest contrivance? It is a Hydro-Aircraft, and its engines propel it equally as well on water as on land." "Then it beats my yacht," said Madeline, smiling. "It is more adaptable--more versatile--to be sure," said Orissa. "Stephen has just completed his first Hydro-Aircraft, and while I am in San Diego I shall test it and make a long trip over the Pacific Ocean to exploit its powers. Such a machine would not take the place of a yacht, you know, and the motor boat attachment is merely a safety device to allow one to fly over water as well as over land. Then, if you are obliged to descend, your aircraft becomes a motor boat and the engines propel it to the shore." "Does your brother use the Gnome engines?" inquired Mr. Tupper. "No; Stephen makes his own engines, which I think are better than any others," answered Miss Kane. By the time the train drew into the station at San Diego, Madeline Dentry and her companions, the Tuppers, knew considerably more of aëroplanes than the average layman, for Orissa Kane enjoyed explaining the various machines and, young and unassuming as she appeared, understood every minute detail of their manufacture. She had been her brother's assistant and companion from the time of his first experiments and intelligently followed the creation and development of the now famous Kane Aircraft. At the depot a large crowd was in waiting, not gathered to meet the great heiress, Madeline Dentry, but the quiet slip of a girl whose name was on every tongue and whose marvelous skill as a bird-maid had aroused the admiration of every person interested in aërial sports. On the billboards were glaring posters of "The Flying Girl," the chief attraction of the coming aviation meet, and the news of her expected arrival had drawn many curious inhabitants of the Sunshine City to the depot, as well as the friends congregated to greet her. First of all a tall, fine looking fellow, who limped slightly, sprang forward to meet Orissa at the car steps and gave her a kiss and a hug. This was Stephen Kane, the airship inventor, and close behind him stood a grizzled gentleman in a long gray coat and jaunty Scotch cap. It was Mr. Cumberford, the "angel" and manager of the youthful Kanes, the man whose vast wealth had financed the Kane Aircraft and enabled the boy and girl to carry out their ambitious plans. This strange man had neither ambition to acquire more money nor to secure fame by undertaking to pilot the Aircraft to success; as he stood here, his bored expression, in sharp contrast to the shrewd gray eyes that twinkled behind his spectacles, clearly indicated this fact; but a little kindness had won him to befriend the young people and he had rendered them staunch support. On Mr. Cumberford's arm was a slender girl dressed all in black, the nodding sable plumes of whose broad hat nearly hid Orissa from view as the two girls exchanged a kiss. Sybil Cumberford had no claim to beauty except for her dark eyes--so fathomless and mysterious that they awed all but her most intimate friends, and puzzled even them. And now an awkward young fellow--six feet three and built like an athlete--slouched bashfully forward and gripped Orissa Kane's outstretched hand. Here was the press agent of the Kane-Cumberford alliance, Mr. H. Chesterton Radley-Todd; a most astonishing youth who impressed strangers as being a dummy and his friends as the possessor of a rarely keen intellect. Orissa smiled at him; there was something humorous about Radley-Todd's loose-jointed, unwieldy personality. Then she took her brother's arm and passed through the eager, admiring throng to the automobile in waiting. Beside Mr. Cumberford's car stood a handsome equipage that had been sent for Miss Dentry's party, and as Orissa nodded to her recent acquaintances Sybil Cumberford inquired: "Who is that girl?" "A Miss Dentry, of New York, with whom I exchanged some remarks on the train. She has a yacht in the bay here." "Oh, yes; I've heard all about her," returned Sybil, indifferently. "She's dreadfully rich; rather snubbed New York society, which was eager to idolize her--says she's too young for the weary, heart-breaking grind--and indulges in such remarkable fancies that she's getting herself talked about. I hope you didn't encourage her advances, Orissa?" "I fear I did," was the laughing reply; "but she seemed very nice and agreeable--for a rich girl. Tell me, Steve," she added, turning to her brother, "what news of the Hydro-Aircraft?" "It's great, Orissa! I put the finishing touches on it night before last, and yesterday Mr. Cumberford and I took a trial spin in it. It carries two beautifully," he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Did you go over the water?" asked Orissa. "Nearly half a mile. Then we dropped and let the engine paddle us home. Of all the hydro-aëroplanes yet invented, Ris, mine will do the most stunts and do them with greater ease." They were rolling swiftly toward the ferry now, bound for the Hotel del Coronado, a rambling pile of Spanish architecture that dominates the farther side of San Diego Bay. Presently the car took its place in the line of vehicles on the ferry and Mr. Cumberford, who was driving, shut off the power and turned to Orissa. "You are advertised to exhibit the new Hydro-Aircraft the first day of the meet--that's Monday," he announced. "Do you think you can master the mechanism by that time?" "Is it the same old engine, Steve?" she inquired. "Exactly the same, except that I've altered the controlling levers, to make them handy both in the air and on water, and balanced the weight a little differently, to allow for the boat attachment." "How did you do that?" "Placed the gasoline tanks in the rear. That makes the engine feed from the back, instead of from directly overhead, you see." Orissa nodded. "I think I can manage it, Mr. Cumberford," she decided. "Will Steve go with me on Monday?" "Why--no," returned the manager, a trifle embarrassed. "Our fool press agent had an idea the event would be more interesting if two girls made the flight out to sea, and the trip back by boat. Sybil has been crazy to go, and so I let Chesty Todd have his own way." "You see, Miss Kane," added Mr. H. Chesterton Radley-Todd, who was seated beside Mr. Cumberford, while Stephen and the two girls rode behind, "the management of the meet couldn't get another aviatress to take part, because you had been engaged to fly. The other air-maids are all jealous of your reputation and popularity, I guess, so the management was in despair. The dear public is daffy, just now, to watch a female risk her precious life; it's more thrilling than when a male ventures it. So, as they're paying us pretty big money, and Miss Cumberford was anxious to go, I--er--er--I----" "It is quite satisfactory to me," announced Orissa quietly. "I shall enjoy having Sybil with me." "I knew you wouldn't object," said Sybil. "The only thing I don't like about it," observed Stephen, reflectively, "is the fact that you have never yet seen my Hydro-Aircraft. It's safe enough, either on land or water; but if the thing balks--as new inventions sometimes do--there will be no one aboard to help you remedy the fault, and the invention is likely to get a black eye." "Give me a tool bag and I'll do as well as any mechanician," responded Orissa, confidently. "And your Hy is not going to balk, Steve, for I shall know as much about it as you do by Monday." CHAPTER II THE GIRL WITH THE AËROPLANE The morning following Orissa Kane's arrival, which was the Saturday preceding the meet, she went with her brother Stephen to his hangar, which was located near the Glenn Curtiss aviation camp on a low bluff overlooking the Pacific. There the two spent the entire forenoon in a careful inspection of the new Hydro-Aircraft. As she had told Madeline Dentry, the Flying Girl never wittingly took chances in the dangerous profession she followed. The remarkable success of her aërial performances was due to an exact knowledge of every part of her aëroplane. She knew what each bolt and brace was for and how much strain it would stand; she knew to a feather's weight the opposition of the planes to the air, the number of revolutions to drive the engine under all conditions and the freaks of the unreliable atmospheric currents. And aside from this knowledge she had that prime quality known as "the aviator's instinct"--the intuition what to do in emergencies, and the coolness to do it promptly. Stephen Kane, who adored his pretty little sister, had not the slightest fear for her. As she had stood at his side during the construction of his first successful aëroplane and learned such mechanical principles of flying as he himself knew, he had no doubt she could readily comprehend the adaptation he had made to convert his Aircraft into the amphibious thing that could navigate air and water alike. "It seems to me quite perfect, Steve," was Orissa's final verdict. "There is no question but the Hydro-Aircraft will prove more useful to the world than any simple aëroplane. If we could carry gasoline enough, I would venture across the Pacific in this contrivance. By the way, what am I to do on Monday? Must I carry Sybil in any certain direction, or for any given distance?" "I'll let Chesty explain that," said Steve, turning to the youthful press agent, who had just then entered the hangar in company with Mr. Cumberford and Sybil. "Why, er--er--a certain program has been announced, you know," explained Chesty Todd; "but that doesn't count, of course. We'll say that owing to high winds, contrary air currents, or some other excuse, you had to alter your plans. That'll satisfy the dear public, all right." Orissa frowned slightly. "You mustn't compromise me in such ways, Mr. Todd," she exclaimed. "The Kane-Cumberford Camp has the reputation of fulfilling its engagements to the letter; but if you promise impossible things of course we cannot do them." The young man flushed. In the presence of Orissa Kane this big fellow was as diffident as a schoolboy. "I--I didn't think I promised too much," he stammered. "There are two or three islands off this coast, known as the Coronado Islands. The big one--you can see it plainly from here--is named Sealskin. No one knows why. There are seals there, and they have skins. Perhaps that's the reason. Or they may all be related, and the seals' kin play together on the rocks." "Be sensible, Chesty!" This from Mr. Cumberford, rather impatiently. "I'm quite sensible of Miss Kane's annoyance," resumed Mr. Radley-Todd, "but I hope she will find her task easy. She has merely to fly to Sealskin Island, a dozen or fifteen miles--perhaps twenty--and alight on the bosom of the blue Pacific. Mighty poetical in the advertisements, eh? Then she'll ride back in motor boat fashion. When she approaches the shore she is to mount into the air again, circle around the hotel and land on the aviation field before the grand stand. If any part of this program seems difficult, we can cut it out and tell the reporters----" "Steve," interrupted Orissa, "can I rise from the water into the air?" "Of course. That's my pet invention. While skimming along the water you lift this lever, free the propeller, then point your elevator and--up you go!" "Run out the machine. We will make a trial and you shall show me how it is done. The rest of Chesty's program seems easy enough, and if I master this little trick of rising from the water we will carry out our contract to the letter." "All right. Your costume is in that little dressing room in the corner, Ris." While his sister donned her short skirt, leggings and helmet, Stephen Kane called his mechanicians and had the Hydro-Aircraft rolled out of the hangar and headed toward the ocean. For himself, he merely put on a sweater and his cap and visor, being ready long before Orissa appeared. The inventor seldom flew his own craft, for an accidental fall had lamed him so that he was not as expert an aviator as his sister had proved to be. He was recovering from his hurt, however, and hoped the injured leg would soon be good as new. Meantime Orissa was doing more to render the Kane Aircraft famous than any man might have done. A wire fence encircled the Kane-Cumberford Camp for some distance, except on the ocean side, where the bluff protected it from invasion. There was an entrance gate adjoining the beach road, and while the assembled party awaited Orissa's appearance Steve noticed that a motor car stopped at the gateway and a man and woman alighted and entered the enclosure, leisurely approaching the spot where the Hydro-Aircraft stood. "Oh!" exclaimed Sybil, whose dark eyes were far-seeing; "it's that girl who owns the yacht, Madeline what's-her-name." "Dentry," said Steve. "I wonder if Orissa invited her here. Go and meet them, Chesty, and find out." Mr. Radley-Todd promptly unlimbered his long legs and advanced to meet Madeline and Mr. Tupper. The press agent had an unlimited command of language when driving his pen over paper, but was notably awkward in expressing himself conversationally. He now stopped short before the visitors, removed his hat and said: "I--er--pardon me, but--er--was your appointment for this hour?" "Is Miss Kane here, sir?" asked Madeline, unabashed. "She is, Miss--er--er----" "Dentry." "Oh; thank you." "Then I will see her," and she took a step forward. But Chesty Todd did not move his huge bulk out of the way. So many curious and bold people were prone to intrude on all aviators, and especially on Miss Kane, that it was really necessary to deny them in a positive manner in order to secure any privacy at all. The press agent, in his halting way, tried to explain. "We--er--Miss Kane--is about to--er--test the powers of our new Hydro-Aircraft, and I regret to say that--er--er--the test is private, you know." "How fortunate that we came just now!" cried Madeline, eagerly, as she flashed her most winning smile on the young man. "Please lead us directly to Miss Kane, sir." "Yes; of course; please lead us to Miss Kane," echoed Mr. Tupper pompously. Chesty succumbed and led them to the group surrounding the machine, just as Orissa emerged from the hangar. Recognizing her recent traveling companion, the Flying Girl ran up and greeted her cordially, introducing her and Mr. Tupper to the others present. "I'm going to try out our new Hy," she said, with a laugh. "'Hy,' you must know, is my abbreviation of the Hydro-Aircraft--too long a word altogether. If you will promise not to criticize us, in case we foozle, you are welcome to watch our performance." "That will be glorious," returned Madeline. "We have been to the bay to inspect the _Salvador_, my new yacht, but being anxious to see your new Aircraft and hoping to find you here, we ventured to stop for a few minutes. Forgive us if we intruded." She spoke so frankly and was so evidently unconscious of being unwelcome that the entire group accepted her presence and that of her uncle without murmur. Steve took his place in the "Hy" and Orissa sat beside him. The motor boat attachment, which took the place of the ordinary running gear, was of sheet aluminum, as light and yet as strongly built as was possible for a thing intended to be practical. Adjustable wheels, which could be folded back when the boat was in the water, were placed on either side, to give the craft a land start. The huge engine was beautiful in appearance, while the planes--a crossed arrangement peculiar to the Kane Aircraft--were immaculately white in their graceful spread. "This upper plane," said Steve, proud to explain the marvels of his latest mechanical pet, "is so arranged that its position may be altered by means of a lever. If you're on the water and want to save gasoline you adjust the plane as a sail and let the wind drive you." "Clever! Very clever, indeed," observed Mr. Tupper. "I had no idea these flying machines had been improved so much since I last saw an aviation meet, some six months ago." "The art of flying is still in its infancy, sir," replied Mr. Cumberford. "It is progressing with wonderful strides, however, and young Kane is one of those remarkable geniuses who keep a pace ahead of the procession." Even as he spoke Steve started the engine, and as the first low rumble of the propeller increased to a roar the machine darted forward, passed the edge of the bluff and, rising slightly, sped over the placid waters of the Pacific, straight out from shore. He did not rise very high, but half a mile or so out the aviator described a half-circle and then, as gracefully as a swan, sank to the surface of the ocean. Instantly a white wake of foam appeared at the rear of the boat, showing that the propeller was now churning the water. And now, with speed that to the observers appeared almost incredible, the Hydro-Aircraft approached the shore. A few yards from the bluff it abruptly rose from the water, sailed above the heads of the spectators, and after a circle of the field, came to a halt at almost the exact spot from which it had started. This remarkable performance had taken place in so brief a space of time that those on the bluff had scarcely moved during the entire period. They now hastened forward to congratulate the inventor. Mr. Cumberford's grim features were for once wreathed in smiles; Chesty Todd capered like a schoolboy and flung his hat into the air as he yelled "Hooray!" while Sybil impulsively grasped Steve's hand in both of her own. As for Madeline Dentry, she eyed the young man wonderingly, asking herself if the marvel she seemed to have witnessed had actually occurred. "Do you know," said Mr. Tupper, his voice trembling with excitement, "I wouldn't much mind a ride like that myself!" Orissa was much pleased with this successful test of the new machine's powers. As the men wheeled the Hydro-Aircraft back to its hangar she turned to Chesty and said: "I forgive you, sir. Really, you were too modest in your promises. Sybil and I will carry out your program to the entire satisfaction of the management and the public, I am positive." "I can hardly wait for Monday, Ris," exclaimed Sybil. "If father wasn't so afraid, I would learn to navigate the Hy myself." "Ah, you interest me, my dear," returned her father, blandly; "you do, really. But as your talents will never enable you to rival Orissa it will be well for you to curb your ambitions. I've conceded a lot, to allow you to go with her on that long jaunt Monday." "You have, indeed," laughed Orissa. "But Sybil and I will have a real joy ride, and be perfectly safe in the bargain. How long a time will the trip take us, Steve?" "Oh, a couple of hours, or so; it will depend on whether the current is favorable to your paddling back. In the air you can do forty miles an hour, easily." "We will take some lunch with us," said Sybil. "Don't forget to order it, Daddy." Mr. Cumberford nodded. Unimpressionable as this strange man seemed, his daughter was verily the "apple of his eye" and he was not likely to forget anything that might add to her comfort. Sybil's desire to aviate had been a constant source of disturbance to her father. He had worried a good deal over Orissa, during her first attempts to fly, but was now convinced of the girl's capability and, although he exhibited nervousness every time she gave one of her exhibitions, he had by degrees acquired supreme confidence in her skill. Still, being thoroughly experienced in all aviation matters, through his connection with the Kane Aircraft, Mr. Cumberford realized that flying is always accompanied by danger, and whenever an aviator met with an accident on the field he was wont to inform Sybil that on no account could she ever accompany Orissa again in a flight. He would even urge Orissa to abandon the dangerous work; but she answered him gravely: "This accident, as well as all others I ever heard of, was the result of carelessness and inexperience. The more flights I make the less liable am I to encounter accident. Perhaps I realize better than you do, Mr. Cumberford, the elements of danger, and that is the reason I am so careful to avoid every hazard." Flying was an intoxication to Sybil. She never had enough of it and always complained to Orissa that their flights were of too short duration. Each time she was obliged to plead and argue with her father for days, before obtaining his consent to let her go, and even now, when he had given his reluctant permission to Chesty Todd to advertise Sybil as the companion of the Flying Girl, he was frequently impelled to forbid the adventure. His only consolation was that the new invention seemed very safe and practical, and with Orissa's guiding hands at the levers his beloved daughter would be as well guarded as possible under such conditions. As a matter of fact, protests from Mr. Cumberford had little value, as Sybil possessed a knack of getting her own way under any and all circumstances. She had really no great desire to operate an aëroplane herself, being quite content to remain a passenger and enjoy the freedom of riding, untrammeled by the necessity of being alert every instant to control the machine. Orissa, excusing herself, retired to the hangar to change her costume, and the young inventor was left to listen to the enthusiastic comments of his friends. "When will your Hydro-Aircraft be on the market, Mr. Kane?" asked Madeline. "In the course of the next three months we expect to complete two other machines," he replied. "I want one of them," she said quickly. "Will you teach me how to operate it?" "Of course," he answered. "That is part of the bargain. But you have not asked the price, and for all business transactions I must refer you to Mr. Cumberford." "Madeline, my dear! My dear Madeline!" protested Mr. Tupper; "what in the world are you thinking of?" "That I would give Mr. Cumberford a check at once," she calmly answered. "But I--we--that is, I can't permit it; I--I really can't allow it, my dear!" asserted the gentleman, evidently alarmed by her positive attitude. Madeline's slight form stiffened and her eyes flashed defiantly. "Mr. Tupper," said she to her uncle, "do I employ you to advise me, or to manage my business affairs?" That he was greatly humiliated by this attack was evident. His face grew red and he half turned away, hesitating to make reply. Then Mr. Cumberford came to Mr. Tupper's assistance. "Your--eh--friend--is quite right, Miss Dentry; quite right to oppose your--eh--reckless impulse, if I may put it that way. Your enthusiasm interests me; it--eh--interests me greatly; but for your own welfare and the comfort of mind of your friends, I should advise you to--eh--curb your adventurous spirit, for the present. You have what is known as the 'Flying Fever,' which attacks the most conservative people when on the aviation field. Let it alone and it will dissipate, in time; but if you nurse it you--eh--buy a flying machine and become a slave. We have machines to sell, you know; we are anxious to dispose of all we can; but kindly keep your check for three months, and if at the end of that time you are still disposed to purchase, I will deliver the machine to you promptly." "How can you do that? The demand will be greater than your ability to build the Hydro-Aircraft, after the exhibition of next Monday," she affirmed. Mr. Cumberford regarded her thoughtfully. "I believe you are right," said he. "Anyhow, I hope you are right. But I'll promise to reserve a machine, pending your decision. Young ladies who are seriously determined to become aviators and who--eh--have the means to indulge the fad to any extent, are rare; very rare. Therefore, my dear Miss Dentry, you--eh--interest me, and I'll keep my promise." Madeline could not refuse to admit the fairness of Mr. Cumberford's proposition, and Mr. Tupper was grateful to him for his efficient support, so harmony was once more restored. Sybil, indeed, smiled derisively as she exchanged a meaning glance with Madeline--a glance that said as intelligently as words: "How clever these men think themselves, and how helpless they really are to oppose us!" Then Miss Dentry invited them all, including Chesty Todd, to dine on board her yacht the next day, which was Sunday, and the invitation being promptly accepted they all motored back to the hotel. CHAPTER III A PRODIGY IN AERONAUTICS San Diego Bay is always interesting, with its shipping from all ports of the world, but on this gorgeous Sunday afternoon there was no prettier sight among the scattered craft than the trim yacht _Salvador_, lying at anchor just north of the ferry path. The Kane-Cumberford party found a small launch awaiting them at the pier, which quickly took them aboard the big white yacht, where Madeline, attired in appropriate sailor costume, cordially welcomed them. "This affair is fully as great a novelty to me as it must be to you," she explained, as they cast admiring glances over the decks. "I bought the boat of an Englishman several months ago, with the understanding it should be delivered to me here; but I only arrived to claim it the day before yesterday. It has a crew of seven, besides the chef, who, I must admit, is my own selection, as I feared to trust the English taste in cookery. The English crew, however, seems capable and every man jack wants to stay with the boat; so I've agreed to keep them. I'll introduce you to the skipper presently. He rejoices in the title of 'Captain' and has quite awed me with his superior manner and splendid uniform. But I'll introduce you to the creations of my chef, first, for dinner is waiting. Forgive Monsieur Champetre, if he falls down occasionally; he is as unused to the kitchen--or is it scullery? Oh, I know; the 'galley'--as I am to the cabin." Really the chef needed no excuses, and after the meal they made a thorough inspection of the beautiful craft, peeping into the state-rooms, the men's quarters and even into the sacred galley. Everyone aboard, including the big, bluff skipper, was so proud of the boat that he delighted to have it exhibited, and when it was understood that the slim, beautiful young lady guest was the famous Flying Girl the deference shown Orissa was amusing. "I had intended to test the _Salvador_ to-morrow and make a short run to sea in it," said Madeline; "but I am so eager to witness the aërial exhibitions that I shall postpone the voyage until later. My yacht is permanent, but this Aviation Meet is temporary." The visitors returned to their hotel early in the afternoon, for Orissa and Sybil had still a few preparations to make for the morrow's trip, while Steve and Mr. Cumberford decided to pay a visit to the aviation field, to which both the Kane Aircraft and the Kane Hydro-Aircraft had been removed by the mechanicians in charge of them. Chesty Todd's labors that Sunday evening were perhaps more onerous than those of the others of his party, for he had to meet an aggressive band of newspaper reporters and load each one to the brim with material for a double-header next morning. Having served as a journalist--and an able one--himself, Mr. Radley-Todd understood exactly the sort of priming these publicity guns required. The home of the Kanes was a delightful orange ranch near Los Angeles, where the blind mother of Stephen and Orissa--their only parent--lived surrounded by every comfort and devoted attendants, while her boy and girl were engaged in the novel and somewhat hazardous exhibitions of the new Kane Aircraft. Orissa had remained at home with her mother while Stephen was perfecting his latest machine at San Diego, and had not left there until it was necessary to prepare for the Meet, in which she had engaged to take part. Mrs. Kane, perhaps because of her blindness, seemed to have little anxiety on account of her daughter's ventures, although at the time of Orissa's first flights her nervousness had been poignant. Assured of her girl's skill and coolness, the mother had come to accept these occasions philosophically, as far as the danger was concerned, and she was naturally interested in Steve's inventions and overjoyed at the financial success which Mr. Cumberford's business ability had already insured the firm. This Sunday evening Orissa wrote a long letter to her mother, telling how perfectly her brother's new machine worked, and assuring Mrs. Kane of her confidence in winning new laurels for Stephen on the morrow. "The latest engine, made for the Hy, is more powerful than were the others," she added, "but its operation is practically the same and while the combination of boat and aircraft necessitated a more complicated arrangement of the control, I have easily mastered all the details and could take the whole thing apart and put it together again, if obliged to do so." The girl slept peacefully that night and neither she nor Sybil were in the least nervous when they went to the aviation field, overlooking the sea, after an early luncheon on Monday. They found the Kane Hydro-Aircraft reposing majestically in its hangar, in perfect order and constantly surrounded by a group of admiring and interested spectators. The little band of professional aviators present at the Meet welcomed Orissa very cordially, for every one of them knew and admired the brave girl who had so often proved her ability to manage her brother's machines. The grand stand was packed with spectators, and long rows of automobiles lined the edge of the enclosure reserved for the exhibitors. The "Kane Event," as it was called, was early on the program of the day, for it was understood that the flight over the ocean and the voyage back would consume much of the afternoon. Many had brought binoculars and other powerful glasses to watch the Flying Girl and her chum during their progress. Sealskin Island lay a little to the south of the aviation field and was one of a group of barren rocks jutting out of the sea and plainly visible from the mainland. The Coronado Islands, which have little or no value, belong to Mexico, as the Mexican boundary is only twelve miles south of San Diego, and this group, although not appearing to be so far south, is below the line claimed by the United States. Therefore Orissa's flight would be in a southwesterly direction and most of her journey made in plain view of every spectator. As the "Hy" was run out to the center of the field Steve said to Orissa: "I've anchored an aluminum chest just back of your seats, at the suggestion of Mr. Cumberford. In it are all the tools you could possibly need in case of emergency, a couple of warm blankets to use if your return trip proves chilly, and enough 'lunch'--which I think Sybil pleaded for--to last you both a week. The chest enables you to carry all this safely and comfortably, and it won't be at all in your way. Personally, I think such a precaution wholly unnecessary, but Mr. Cumberford is a good deal of an old woman where Sybil is concerned and it is easier to give up to him than to try to argue him out of an idea. Take the trip easy, Ris; we don't need to make time. What we want to demonstrate is the practicability of the machine, and we ourselves already know that it is thoroughly practical, and we therefore ought to be able to convince the world of the fact." Orissa nodded. "How about gasoline?" she asked. "Both tanks are filled. There's enough to run you a hundred miles in air and fifty miles in water, which is far more than you will require. Be gentle with the steering gear; it is such a long connection that it doesn't respond as readily as the old one, and I guess I've made the rods a trifle too light. I mean to rig up a more substantial device as soon as I get time, but this will do you all right if you don't jerk it. Put a little more strength to the wheel and turn it gradually, that's all." "I understand," she replied. "Are you ready, Sybil?" "Waiting on you, Ris." "And I think the crowd is waiting on us." The band was at this moment playing its loudest and most stirring tune and as the two venturesome girls, dressed in appropriate aërial costume, appeared on the field, wildly enthusiastic shouts rose from ten thousand spectators. Chesty Todd had decorated the braces of the machine with bunches of fresh violets and the aluminum and nickeled parts shone gloriously in the sun. "Be good, Sybil," said Mr. Cumberford. "Take care of her, Orissa." The girls laughed, for this was the old gentleman's customary parting warning. "All right, Ris," said Steve. She applied the power and one of the mechanicians gave the propeller a preliminary whirl. Then Orissa threw in the automatic clutch that started the machine and it ran forward a few feet and promptly rose into the air. A moment later it was speeding straight out to sea, at an altitude of a hundred feet, and the wonderful voyage of Stephen Kane's new Hydro-Aircraft was begun--a voyage destined to vary considerably from the program mapped out for it. CHAPTER IV THE ALUMINUM CHEST Orissa realized quite perfectly that Sealskin Island was much farther away from the mainland than it appeared, so on leaving the shore she pursued a direction straight west for several miles, intending to make a turn and proceed south to the island which was the terminus of her flight. That prolonged the trip somewhat, but she figured it would prove more interesting to the spectators, since for a part of the journey she would be flying parallel with the coast. On the return she planned to run straight back from the island. When she decided they had reached a point about as far out as was the island, she attempted to make the turn--a mere segment of a circle--but in spite of Steve's warning Orissa was surprised at the stiffness of the steering gear. The engines were working beautifully and developing excellent speed, but the girl found she must apply all her strength to the wheel to make the turn. She succeeded, and brought the head to bear directly upon the island, but the gear grated and stuck so persistently that Orissa's effort sent the entire craft careening at a steep angle. Sybil gave a gasp and clung to the supporting rods and both girls heard a loud "chug" that indicated something was wrong; but the Kane balancing device was so perfect that almost immediately the machine righted itself and regained its equilibrium, darting swiftly and in a straight line in the direction of the island. "What was it?" asked Sybil, putting her head close to Orissa's to be heard above the whir of the motors behind them. "The steering gear binds; that's all," was the quiet response. "I think it will work better when we are in the water." "But what made that noise? Didn't something give way?" persisted Sybil. "Glance behind us, dear, and see." Sybil carefully turned so as to examine the parts of the aëroplane. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "Well?" said Orissa. "That chest that Steve loaded us with. It has broken away from its fastenings and is jammed edge downward against your gear." Orissa thought about it. "That's unfortunate," said she. "I suppose the bolts broke when we tipped so badly. But it hasn't interfered with our engines any." "No," answered Sybil, still examining the conditions; "but it has interfered seriously with your control, I fear. Both your levers are thrown out of position and even the front elevator bars are badly bent." For the first time a worried expression appeared on Orissa's face. "If that is true," she said, "our best plan is to return at once." "Do," urged Sybil, her dark eyes very serious. Orissa tried to turn the wheel. It resisted. She applied more strength. Something snapped and the released wheel whirled so freely that the girl nearly lost her seat. Recovering instantly she turned a pale face to her companion and said: "We're wrecked, Sybil. But don't worry. With the boat under us and in this quiet sea we shall be quite safe." "I'm not worrying--especially--Ris," was the reply; "but it occurs to me to wonder how you're going to get down to the ocean." "Why?" "You can't stop the engines, unless one of us crawls back over the planes." "I can cut off the spark." She tried it, but the engines chugged as merrily as before. "Guess there must be a short circuit," gasped Orissa. "And you can't depress your elevator, I'm sure." "I'll try it," announced Orissa, grimly. But the fatal chest balked her attempt. The elevator was steadfastly wedged into its present position; the engines were entirely beyond control and the two helpless girls faced one of the most curious conditions ever known in the history of aviation. At an altitude of perhaps a hundred and fifty feet from the water the aëroplane sped swiftly on its way, headed a trifle to the west of south. It passed Sealskin Island even while the girls were discussing their dilemma, and stubbornly maintained its unfaltering course. The air conditions were perfect for flying; scarcely a breath of wind was felt; the sky above was blue as azure. Suddenly Sybil laughed. "What now?" demanded Orissa. "I was thinking of the consternation on shore at about this moment," explained Miss Cumberford. "Won't they be amazed to see us continue this course, beyond the island? Not understanding our trouble, Daddy will think we're running away." "So we are," replied Orissa. "I wish I knew where we are running to." "I suppose we can't stop till the gasoline gives out," said Sybil. Orissa shook her head. "That's what scares me," she admitted. "Even now the Mexican shore is a mere line at the left. We're gradually diverging to a point farther out at sea, and when at last we alight, drained of the last drop of gasoline, how are we to run the boat back?" "We can't. Steve's wonderful Hy will become a mere floating buoy on the bosom of the rolling blue," responded Sybil lightly. "Oh, I'm so glad I came, Ris! I'd no idea we were going to have such fun." Orissa did not return her chum's smile. "Sit still and balance her, Sybil," she said. "I'm going to make an investigation." Exercising the necessary caution she turned and knelt upon the foot bar, clinging to the seat rail and in this position facing the Aircraft so she could examine its mechanism. Sybil had described the condition of things quite accurately. The engine control was cut off and as the gasoline tanks fed from the rear Orissa had no way of stopping the flow. The steering gear was broken and the front elevator firmly wedged in position by the chest. "I wonder if we could manage to move this thing," she said, and getting a hand on one corner of the aluminum chest she gave a tug and tried to raise it. It proved solid and unyielding. Not heavy in itself, or perhaps in its contents, the thing was caught between the rods in such a manner that no strength of the girls, limited in movement as they were, could budge it a particle. Realizing this, and the folly of leaving the seats to get at the gasoline feed, Orissa resumed her place and faced the inevitable as bravely as she could. "Steve told me," she said to Sybil, "that the gasoline would last a hundred miles in air and fifty in water; that's at least two hundred miles in an air line. Have you any idea where we shall be by that time?" "Not the slightest," responded her companion, cheerfully. "Ocean, of course; but latitude and longitude a mystery--and not important, anyhow." Sybil Cumberford was a reserved and silent girl on most occasions. Few were attracted toward her, on this account. Her dark eyes seemed to regard the world with critical toleration and she gave one the impression of considering herself quite independent of her fellows. Moreover, Sybil was eccentric in character and prone to do and say things that invoked the grave displeasure of her associates, seeming to delight in confusing and annoying them. But there was a brighter side to this queer girl's nature, which developed only in the society of her trusted friends. On any occasion that demanded courage and resourcefulness she came to the front nobly, and at such times Sybil Cumberford became vivacious, helpful and inspiriting. Here was such an occasion. Danger was the joy of Sybil's heart and the "breath of her nostrils." Indifferent to the ordinary details of life, any adventure that promised tribulation or disaster was fervently welcomed. Then the girl's spirits rose, her intellect fairly bristled and she developed an animation and joyous exhilaration entirely at variance with her usual demeanor. So now, as Orissa Kane, a girl of proved courage and undaunted spirit, grew solemn and anxious at the perilous condition that confronted them, Sybil Cumberford became gay and animated. "It's such an unusual thing, and so wholly unexpected!" she said blithely. "I'm sure, Ris, that no two girls who ever lived--in this world or any other--ever found themselves in a like dilemma. We're as helpless as babes, chummie dear; only no babes were ever forced to fly, willy-nilly, for hundreds of miles through the air to some forlorn spot in the dank, moist ocean." Orissa let her chatter. She was trying to realize what it might mean to them and how and when, if ever, they might be rescued from their difficulties. "Our great mistake," continued Sybil, as they swept along, "was in not rigging the machine with a wireless outfit. To be sure, neither of us could operate it; but a wireless, in such a case--if we understood its mysteries--would solve our problem." "How?" asked Orissa. "We could call up the shore at San Diego and tell them what's happened, and give them the direction in which we are flying; then they could send a fast steamer for us, or perhaps Madeline Dentry would loan her yacht." "They may follow us with a steamer, anyhow," said Orissa, thoughtfully. "If we manage to land safely, Sybil--which means if we drop to the water right-side-up--we could float for some days, until we were found and rescued." "Thirst is a terrible thing, at sea; and hunger is almost as bad." "But in that dreadful chest, which has caused all our trouble, Steve told me he had packed provisions. Probably there is water there, too," asserted Orissa, hopefully. "Yes, Dad said there was lunch for two. Well, that's one good feed we shall have, anyhow, provided the chest doesn't get away from us entirely, and we can manage to open it. In its present position, neither event is at all probable." She seemed to love to discover and point out the gloomy side of their adventure, that she might exult in the dangers that menaced them. Meantime, swift and straight as an arrow the Aircraft continued on its course. Not a skip to the engines, not an indication of any sort that the flight would be interrupted as long as a drop of gasoline remained in the tanks. They could only be patient and await the finale as bravely as possible. CHAPTER V THE LAST DROP OF GASOLINE Hour after hour they flew, while each hour seemed, to Orissa, at least, a month in duration. Sybil chatted and laughed, refusing to take their misfortune seriously. "But," said she, "I'm getting famished. An air-trip always stimulates the appetite and that lunch of Steve's is so very near to us--and yet so far! I How did he expect us to get at the repast, anyhow?" "Why, in water," replied Orissa, "the chest and its contents would be handy enough. I do not think it would be safe for us to creep into the boat underneath us now, for we must maintain the aërial balance; but, even if we could get below, we couldn't open the chest while it is wedged crosswise among the braces and levers." "All true, milady," commented Sybil, her usually pale cheeks now flushed with excitement. "Our present stunt is to 'sit still and take our medicine,' as the saying goes." By this time the Mexican coast had vanished entirely and only the placid blue waters of the Pacific remained visible, even from the altitude of the Aircraft. Once or twice they sighted a small island, bleak and bare, for this part of the ocean is filled with tiny islets, most of which are unfertile and uninhabited. Farther along, in the South Pacific, such islands have verdure and inhabitants. At about four o'clock a change occurred in the atmospheric conditions. A brisk wind arose, blowing steadily for a time from the southwest and then suddenly developing puffs and eddies that caused the Aircraft to wobble dangerously. One powerful gust seized the helpless flying-machine and whirled it around like a toy balloon, but failed to destroy its equilibrium because the girls balanced it with their bodies as well as they might. When their craft was released, however, it pointed in a new direction--this time straight west. An hour later a similar gust swept its head to the southward, and in this direction it was still flying when the red sun dipped into the water and twilight fell. "I don't like this, Syb," said Orissa, anxiously. "If the gasoline holds out much longer it will be dark, and when we drop our danger will be doubled." "What will be the fashion of our dropping, anyhow?" asked Sybil. "We can't volplane, with no control of the rudder. Chances are, dear, the thing will just tip over and spill us in the damp." "Hold fast, if it does that," cautioned Orissa. "If we become separated from the boat we will drown like rats. The engine may swamp the boat, in any event, but it has air compartments which will keep it afloat under any favorable conditions, and we must trust to luck, Sybil--and to our own coolness." "All right, Ris. A watery grave doesn't appeal to me just now," was the reply. "I'm too hungry to drown comfortably, and that's a fact. On a full stomach I imagine one could face perpetual soaking with more complacency." "Huh!" cried Orissa. "Listen!" Sybil was already listening, fully as alert as her chum. The speed of the engine was diminishing. Gradually the huge propeller slackened its rapid revolutions, while its former roar subsided to a mere moan. "Thank goodness," said Sybil, fervently, "the gasoline is gone at last!" "Look out, then," warned Orissa. With a final, reluctant "chug-chug!" the engine stopped short. Like a huge gull the frail craft remained poised in the air a moment and then a sudden light breeze swept it on. It was falling, however, impelled by its own weight, and singularly enough it reversed its position and proceeded before the wind with the stem foremost. Splash! It wasn't so bad, after all. Not a volplane, to be sure, but a gentle drop, the weight of the heavy engine sustained by the "air-cushions" formed beneath the planes. Orissa wiped the spray from her eyes. "That would have been a regular bump, on land," Sybil was saying affably, "but the old ocean has received us with gracious tenderness. Are we sinking, Ris, or do we float?" How suddenly the darkness was falling! Orissa leaned from her seat and found the water had turned to a color nearly as black as ink. Beneath her the bow of the aluminum motor boat was so depressed that it was almost even with the water and as it bobbed up and down with the waves it was shipping the inky fluid by the dipperful. She scrambled out of the seat, then, to step gingerly over the unlucky chest and crouch upon a narrow seat of the little boat, near the stern. "Come, Sybil," she called; "and be very careful." Sybil promptly descended to the boat, which now rode evenly upon the waves. In this position the propeller was just under water and the engine rested over the center of the light but strong little craft. But propeller and engine were alike useless to them now. Overhead the planes spread like huge awnings, but they carried so little weight that they did not affect the balance of the boat. "Steve planned well," murmured Orissa, with a sigh. "If only he had never thought of that dreadful chest, we would not be in this fix." As she spoke she kicked the chest a little resentfully with her foot, and it seemed to move. Sybil leaned forward to eye it as closely as the gathering darkness would allow. "Why, Ris," she exclaimed, "the thing has come loose. Help me to tip it up." Between them they easily raised the chest to its former position, where it rested just before them. Steve had bolted it at either end, but one of the bolts had broken away and the other had bent at almost a right angle. Perhaps this last bolt would have broken, too, had not the chest, in falling, become wedged against the braces. "This horrid box has heretofore been our dire enemy," remarked Sybil; "but let us be forgiving and encourage it to make amends--for it holds eatables. How does the cover open, Ris?" Stephen had shown Orissa how to work the sliding catch and in a moment the girl had the lid open and held it upright while Sybil searched within. "Hooray! We've discovered a regular cafeteria," said the latter, jubilantly, as she drew out a number of parcels. "I was afraid we'd have to nibble, Orissa, so as not to gorge ourselves to-night and starve to-morrow; but I reckon there's enough to last two delicate girls like us a week. What shall we tackle first?" "Let us plan a little, dear," suggested Orissa, restraining her own eagerness, for she was hungry, too. "We cannot possibly tell to-night what this precious chest contains or how much food there really is. We must wait for daylight to take an inventory. But here are some tins, we know, which will keep, and that package of sandwiches on your lap is perishable; so I propose we confine our feast to those for to-night." "Perishable it is, Cap'n," answered Sybil, consuming half a sandwich at a single bite. "If there's only a pickle to go with these breadspreads I shall be content. It's not only luncheon that we're indulging in, you know; it's our regular dinner, as well, and there ought to be two courses--pickles and sandwiches--at the least." "You must feel for the pickles, then," returned Orissa, intent upon her own sandwich, "for it's too dark to use eyes just now." Sybil found the pickles--who ever put up a lunch for two girls without including pickles?--and declared she was quite content. "If we hadn't discovered the eats, my dear Cap'n," she remarked with cheery satisfaction, "I think I could have dined on my own shoes. That's a happy thought; we'll keep the shoes in reserve. I'd no idea one's appetite could get such an edge, after being tantalized for a few hours." "Do you realize, Sybil," asked Orissa in a grave tone, as she took her second sandwich, "that we must pass the night in this wiggly, insecure boat?" "What's insecure about it?" demanded Sybil. "It won't stand much of a sea, I fear. This attachment to the Aircraft was intended for pleasant weather." "All right; the weather's delightful. Those long, gentle rolls will merely rock us to sleep. And--Oh, Ris!--we'll have rolls for breakfast." "Do be serious, Syb! Suppose a storm catches us before morning?" "Then please wake me up. Where do you suppose we are, anyhow?" "I've no idea," answered Orissa, soberly. "We must have traveled a couple of hundred miles, but it wasn't in a straight line, by any means. Let's see. Perhaps a hundred miles on our first course--over Sealskin Island and nearly south--then forty or fifty miles north----" "Oh, no; west." "Yes; so it was. Then twenty-odd miles south, ten miles or so east, a couple or three miles west again, and then--and then----" "Dear me! Don't bother your head with it, Orissa. We zigzagged like a drunken man. The only fact we can positively nail is that we were getting farther away from home--or our friends, rather--every minute. That's a bad thing, come to think of it. They'll never know where to search for us." "True," responded Orissa. "But I am sure they will search, and search diligently, so we must manage to keep afloat until they find us. What shall we do now, Sybil?" "Sleep," was the prompt reply. "If we lift this seat off--it seems to be removable--I think there is room enough for us both to cuddle down in the bottom of the boat." "Oh, Sybil!" This from Orissa, rather reproachfully. "Well, I can't imagine anything more sensible to do," asserted her chum, with a yawn. "These air-rides not only encourage hunger, but sleep. Did you cork that bottle of water? I want another drink." "I--I think we'd better economize on the water," suggested Orissa, "at least until morning, when we can find out if there's any more in the chest." "All right. Help me bail out this overflow and then we'll cuddle down." "Steve said there were two blankets in the chest," said Orissa, presently, when the bottom of the boat was dry. "I'll search for them." She found the blankets easily, by feeling through the contents of the chest. Offering no further objection to Sybil's plan, she prepared their bed for the night. Neither of these girls had ever "roughed it" to any extent, but in spite of the peril of their situation and the liability of unforeseen dangers overtaking them, they were resourceful enough and courageous enough to face the conditions with a degree of intrepid interest. Afloat on an unknown part of the broad Pacific, with merely a tiny aluminum boat for protection, with final escape from death uncertain and chances of rescue remote, these two carefully nurtured young girls, who had enjoyed loving protection all their lives, were so little influenced by fear that they actually exchanged pleasantries as they spread their blankets and rolled themselves in the coverings for the night. "The lack of a pillow bothers me most," remarked Sybil. "I think I shall rest my head on one of those cans of baked beans." "I advise you not to; you might eat them in your sleep," was Orissa's comment. "May I rest my head upon you, chummie dear?" "You may not. Try the engine." "That's hard. And there are enough wheels in my head already, without pounding my ear with them. Suggest something else." "Your own elbow, then." "Thanks, dear. Where's that slab of aluminum that used to be a seat?" It was a happy thought and furnished them both with a headrest. The seat was not an ideal pillow, but it answered the purpose because there was nothing better. CHAPTER VI CASTAWAYS "Well, I declare!" exclaimed Orissa, sitting up. After a moment Sybil said, sleepily: "Go ahead and declare it, Ris. Only, if we're drowned, please break the news to me gently!" "How strange!" muttered Orissa, still staring. Sybil stirred, threw off the blanket and also rose to a sitting position. "If it's a secret," she began, "then--Oh, goodness me!" During the night the boat with its great overhead planes had gently floated into a little bay, where the water was peaceful as a millpond. Two points of black rock projected on either side of them, outlining the bay. Between these points appeared an island--a mass of tumbled rocks guiltless of greenery. There was a broad strip of clean, smooth sand on the shore, barely covering the slaty ledge, but back of that the jumble of rocks began, forming irregular hillocks, and beyond these hillocks, which extended for some distance inland, there seemed to be a great dip in the landscape--or rockscape--far back of which arose a low mountain formed of the same unlovely material as all else. "It's an island!" gasped Sybil, rubbing her eyes to make sure they were working properly. "Now, see here, Cap'n Ris, I want it understood right now which one of us is to be Robinson Crusoe and which the Man Friday. Seems to me, I being the passenger and you the charioteer, the prestige is on my side; so I claim the Crusoe part. I can't grow whiskers, and I'm not likely to find a parrot to perch on my shoulder, but I'll promise to enact the part as well as circumstances will permit." "I can't see a sign of life," announced Orissa, regretfully. "There isn't even a bird hovering over the place." "Lizards and snakes among the rocks, though, I'll bet," responded Sybil, with a grimace. "All these rocky Pacific islands are snaky, they say. I wonder if I can learn to charm 'em. You don't object to my being Crusoe, do you?" Orissa sighed; then she turned to her cheery comrade with a smile. "Not at all," said she. "But I'll be Columbus, the Discoverer, for I've discovered a desert island while you were peacefully dreaming." "There's no desert about your island," stated Sybil. "A desert would be a relief. What you've discovered, Miss Ris Columbus--or what's discovered us, rather--is a rock heap." "Desert or not, it's deserted, all right," maintained Orissa. "And you may not have discovered it, after all," said Sybil, musingly examining the place. "These seas have been pretty well explored, I guess, and although no nation would particularly care to pin a flag to this bunch of rocks, the maps may indicate it clearly." "Ah, if we only had a map!" cried Orissa eagerly. "What good would it do us?" asked Sybil. "It couldn't help us to find ourselves, for we don't know what especial dot on the map we've arrived at. With Muggins' Complete Atlas in hand, and a geography teacher thrown in, we wouldn't be able to pick out this island from the ones that litter these seas." "That is, unfortunately, quite true," sighed Orissa; "and anyhow it's not worth an argument because we have no map. But we must be up and doing, Sybil. If we are to keep ourselves alive, we must take advantage of every favorable circumstance." "What time is it?" yawned Sybil. Orissa looked at her watch. "A little after six." "Call me at eight. I can't get up at six o'clock; it's too early, entirely." "But you went to bed at about seven." "Did I? Well, how about breakfast?" "We must inspect our stores and take inventory. Then we must plan to make the provisions last as long as possible." "How dreadful! Why, this is a real adventure, Ris--threatened famine, and all that. We're regular castaways, like we read about in the fifteen-cent story magazines, and I wouldn't be surprised if we had to endure many inconveniences; would you?" "Sybil," said Orissa earnestly, "we are face to face with privation, danger, and perhaps death. I'm glad you can be cheerful, but we must understand our terrible position and endeavor to survive as long as possible. We know very well that our friends will have a hard time finding us, for they cannot guess what part of the ocean we descended in. It may take days--perhaps weeks--for them to discover us in this dreary place, and meantime we must guard our safety to the best of our ability." "Naturally," agreed Sybil, duly impressed by this speech. "Your head is clearer and better than mine, Orissa; so you shall take command, and I'll gladly follow your instructions. You mean to land, don't you? I'm tired of this cramped little boat and even a rocky island is better than no refuge at all." "Of course we must land," replied Orissa; "and that, I think, must be our first task. The shore is only a stone's throw from here, but we're fast on a sand bar, and how to get off is a problem." Sybil began to take off her leggings, then her shoes and stockings. "We'll wade," she said. Orissa peered over the side. "It's very shallow. I think we can wade to shore, Syb, and pull the Hy in after us. We must get the whole thing high and dry on the beach, if possible." Sybil plumbed the water by tying a can of sardines to a cord from around one of the parcels. "I guess we can make it all right, Cap'n," she said. "It's not very deep." "It may be a lot deeper closer in. But I guess we'll have to take a chance on it. And if the worst comes to the worst we _can_ dry our clothes on the beach." The sun was showing brilliantly above the horizon as the two girls stepped into the water. Both could swim fairly well, but where the boat was grounded on the sand bar the water was scarcely knee-deep. They dragged Steve's invention over the bar with little difficulty, the wheels materially assisting their efforts. Beyond the bar the water deepened in spots, and once, as they drew the wrecked Hy after them, the waves reached perilously high. Then they struck the shelving beach and found hard sand under their feet. By pushing and hauling energetically they managed to run the boat, with its attached planes, to the shore, where the wheels on either side enabled them to roll it up the slope until, as Orissa said, it was "high and dry." "Seems to me," remarked Sybil, panting, "we ought to have breakfasted first, for all this exercise has made me ravenous. That'll diminish our precious store of eatables considerably, I fear." With the machine safely landed they proceeded to dress themselves, after which Orissa arranged upon the sand the entire contents of the aluminum chest. A kit of tools, adapted for use on the Aircraft, together with some extra bolts, a strut or two and a coil of steel wire were first placed carefully on one side. "With these," said the girl, "I can easily repair the damage to our machine." "But what's the use, without gasoline?" asked Sybil. Orissa had no reply to this. She proceeded to inspect the provisions. Mr. Cumberford had a way of always providing enough for a regiment when he intended to feed a few, so in ordering lunch for two girls on an aërial voyage his usual prodigality had been in evidence. Perhaps with an intuition that a delay or even an accident might occur to Sybil and Orissa, the old gentleman had even exceeded his record, in this instance. A big box of dainty sandwiches had been supplemented by three cartons of biscuits, a whole Edam cheese, a bottle of pickles, two huge packages of cakes and eighteen tins of provisions, provided with keys for opening them. These consisted of sardines, potted ham and chicken, baked beans, chipped beef and the like. In another parcel was a whole roasted duck, in still another an apple pie, while two jars of jam completed the list of edibles. For the voyagers to drink Mr. Cumberford had added two half-gallon jars of distilled water, a bottle of grape juice, two of ginger ale and one of lemonade. The girls examined this stock with profound gravity. "I wish," said Orissa, "there had been more bread and biscuits, for we are going to need the substantials rather more than the delicacies." "Thank goodness we have anything!" exclaimed Sybil. "I suppose we must breakfast on the cakes and jam, and save the other truck until later." "That's the idea," approved Orissa. "The cakes won't keep for long; even the sandwiches will outlast them, I think." "True, if I eat all the cake I want," added Sybil. "Cakes and jam make a queer breakfast, Orissa. In New England the pie would be appropriate." "Let's save the pie--for lunch." "Agreed. Breakfast isn't usually my strong point, you know." As they ate, seated together upon the sands, they cast many curious glances at the interior of the island--a prospect forbidding enough. "Do you know," said Orissa, "the scarcity of food doesn't worry me so much as the scarcity of water. Grape juice and ginger ale are well enough in their way, but they don't take the place of water." "We may possibly find water on this island," replied Sybil, after a little thought. "I don't believe it. I've an idea that, hunt as we may, we shall find nothing more than rocks, and rocks, and rocks--anywhere and everywhere." "That's merely a hunch, and I distrust hunches. It will be better to explore," suggested Sybil. "Yes; I think we ought to do that. But--the snakes." "Ah, the exclusive rock theory is already exploded," said Sybil, with a laugh. "Yet even snakes can't exist without water, can they? Just the thought of the wrigglers makes me shudder, but if they are really our co-inhabitants here we won't be safe from them even on this shore. Have we anything in the way of clubs?" Orissa considered the question. Then she went to the machine and with a wrench unfastened the foot-bar, which was long enough to extend across both seats and was made of solid steel. She also took the bolts out of one of the levers, which when released became an effective weapon of defense. Thus armed, and feeling somewhat more secure, the girls prepared to move inland to explore their new habitation. They found the climb over the loose rocks adjoining the shore to be quite arduous, and aside from the difficulties of the way they had to exercise constant caution for fear of snakes. They saw none of these dreaded reptiles, however, and when they came to the hillocks they selected a path between the two most promising and began the ascent, keeping close together. So jagged were the tumbled masses of rock and so irregular in their formation that it was not a question of walking so much as crawling, but with their leggings, stout shoes and thick cloth skirts they were fairly protected from injury. The silence throughout the island was intense. The girls spoke in hushed tones, awed by their uncanny surroundings. From a clear sky the sun beat down upon their heads and was refracted from the rocks until the heat was oppressive. Added to this a pungent, unrecognized odor saluted their nostrils as they progressed inland. "Reminds me of the smell of a drug store," asserted Sybil; but Orissa replied: "It's more like the smell of a garage, I think." After a long and weary climb they reached the brow of the rock hills and were able to look down into the "dip" or valley which lay between them and the mountain. The center of the depression, which was three or four miles across, appeared to be quite free from rocks except in a few places where one cropped up in the form of a hummock. Elsewhere the surface seemed smooth and moist, for it was covered with an oozy, stagnant slime which was decidedly repulsive in appearance. Looking beyond this forbidding valley they discovered the first interesting thing they had yet observed. At the right base of the far-away mountain, lying between it and the sea, was a patch of vivid green, crowning an elevation that distinctly separated it from the central depression of the island. It might be grass or underbrush, this alluring greenery, but in any event it proved a grateful sight to eyes wearied by the dull waste of rocks. From the point where the girls stood they could also see the top of a palm tree which grew around the edge of the mountain. "Well!" said Orissa, drawing a long breath, "there is the first sign of life--animal or vegetable--we have found in this wilderness. That tree must indicate water, Sybil." "Whatever it indicates," was the reply, "yonder bluff is a better place for our camp than the bay where we floated ashore. How shall we get to it, though? It will be a heart-breaking climb cross-lots over these interminable rocks." "An impossible climb," Orissa agreed. "I think our best plan will be to go around the island, following the sandy beach. It seems from here as if that bluff drops sheer down to the sea, but it will be much easier for us to climb a bluff than to navigate these rocks. Let's go back and try it." Cautiously and laboriously they made their way back to the beach, feeling considerably cheered by what they had seen and reassured by the total absence of the dreaded "wigglers." After resting a little from their exertions they prepared for the more important journey of discovery. Sybil carried some food and the bottle of lemonade, while Orissa secured two straps from the aëroplane and the coil of wire. Then, still armed with their steel bars, they set out along the beach. Their first task was to climb the rocks of the point which formed the bay, where it jutted out from the shore. This being accomplished they encountered another stretch of smooth beach, which gradually circled around the north end of the island. Here it was easy walking and they made good progress, but the coast line was so irregular that it wound in and out continually, and in places huge boulders interrupted their passage and obliged them either to climb or wade, whichever seemed the most desirable. "Already," sighed Sybil, "we have tramped a thousand miles. Did you mark that place, Orissa, so we will know when we come to it?" "Yes; I can tell it by the position of the sun. That side of the island faces the northwest." "And we haven't passed it?" "No; but we must be drawing near to it. I've been looking for the bluff the last half hour. The green place was quite elevated, you remember, and must be well above the sea level. Look ahead; you'll notice the rocks are gradually rising, from here on." Sybil nodded and again they trudged on. As the rocks grew higher at their left, the girls kept to the narrow strip of beach, which was beginning to be washed by an occasional wave. "The tide is rising," announced Orissa; "but we shall be at the bluff very soon, and can then climb above this moisture. Feet wet, Syb?" "Pickled in brine. Wet feet signify a cold; cold signifies la grippe; la grippe signifies a doctor; the doctor signifies a depleted bank account. Science of deduction, Ris. It's only a step from wet feet to poverty." "I prefer a doctor to an undertaker," said Orissa, "but as neither profession is represented here I advise you to forego the pleasure of taking cold." "Right you are, Cap'n Columbus. No doctor, no cold. Banish the thought! We can't afford the luxury of illness, can we? Oh, here's the bluff." There it was, indeed; but absolutely unclimbable. It was sixty feet high, at least, and overhanging the sea like a shelf, the waves having cut it away at the base. "Now, then," said Orissa, after a careful inspection, "we must either go back or go on, in order to find a way up. As we haven't passed any steps or easy inclines, I propose we advance farther and see what the west end looks like." "I'll follow the leader; but the waves are already covering the beach," asserted Sybil, with a grimace. "Then let us wade; and don't lose any precious time, for the tide will come in faster every minute. Shoes off, Crusoe!" "Aye, aye, Columbus." With shoes, leggings and stockings in hand they began the advance, hugging the wall of rock and proceeding as swiftly as they could. At times one or the other would cry out as she stepped on a sharp bit of rock, but this was no time to shrink from petty trials and they bore up with admirable fortitude. CHAPTER VII TWO GIRLS AND ONE ISLAND Plodding along the narrow ledge of beach and constantly soused by the waves, the girls began to fear, as afterward proved to be fact--that the bluff covered the entire west end of the island. The water beneath their feet grew deeper and the undertow stronger with every step they advanced, but fortunately for their safety they finally came to a crevasse that split the bluff in twain, and down this rift trickled a rill of pure water. They both exclaimed with delight as they crept into the shelter of the crevasse. The fissure was not level, but extended upward at an acute angle, yet there was room enough at its mouth for the girls to creep above the wash of the waves. Examining the place carefully, Orissa thought they might be able to follow the rift up to the top of the bluff, and so at once they began the ascent. The two walls were so close together that they could touch both by extending their arms, and there was room, by stepping occasionally into the shallow brook, for them to climb from shelf to shelf without much difficulty. At the very top, however, they were brought to an abrupt halt. A waterfall leaped from the edge of the bluff, dropping a good ten feet to the point they had now reached, from whence there seemed no way of gaining the top. Orissa and Sybil looked at each other and laughed, the spray from the waterfall wetting their cheeks, which were now rosy from exercise. "Trapped, Cap'n!" cried Sybil, merrily. "What next?" "We can't go back, you know." "Not unless we prefer Davy Jones' locker to this stronghold--which I, for one, don't. Therefore, let's eat." "That seems your resource in every emergency, Sybil." "Naturally. Feasting stimulates thought; thought develops wit; wit finds a way." Orissa raised herself to a seat upon a projecting crag and then, swinging her feet, proceeded to think while Sybil brought out the food. "Could you climb a wire, Syb?" "Not without years of practice. Have you positively decided to establish a circus in these wilds, Ris?" Orissa stood upon the crag, examined the face of the rock and then drove the end of the bar she carried into a small fissure that was nearly on a level with her head. Sybil observed the horizontal bar and laughed gleefully. "Have a sandwich, chummie, and curb your imagination," said she. "I catch your idea, but respectfully decline to accept the hazard." Orissa ate her sandwich and drank from the bottle of lemonade. Then she rinsed her fingers in the brook, dried them on her handkerchief and again mounted the crag. "Listen, Crusoe: I'm going to make an attempt to break out of jail," she said impressively. "If I can reach to the top I'll find some way to get you up. As soon as I get my feet on that bar, you are to come up on this crag and hand me your lever. If I can find a pocket to stick that into, the deed is done." "Bravo, Ris! What a pity you haven't any spangles on your skirt. If you fall, fall gradually, for I'll be afraid to catch you." Orissa's fingers clutched at the rough projections of rock and with some difficulty she gained a footing on the bar. Then, still clinging to the face of the rift, she made a further examination. There seemed a small hole at the right, about breast high, and she called for the lever. This Sybil promptly passed up. Orissa thrust in the lever and the next instant nearly lost her footing, for with a bewildering hoot a white owl of monstrous size fluttered out and tumbled almost at Sybil's feet, who uttered a shriek like an Indian war whoop. The creature was blinded by the glare of day and went whirling down the incline of the crevasse until it was lost to sight. "First sign of life," called Sybil. "Don't look so scared, Ris; there's nothing more harmless than an owl." "Did you yell because _I_ was scared?" inquired Orissa. "No, I was reproving the owl, who has a voice like a steam calliope. It would take more than a blind bird to scare either of us; wouldn't it, Cap'n?" "I--I wish it hadn't been so--so unexpected," muttered Orissa, feeling her way up to the second projection. With her feet on the lever she found her head well above the edge of the precipice and the first glance showed her a good hold for her hands. Orissa Kane was no skilled athlete, but her experience in Steve's workshop, together with her aërial exercises and constant outdoor life, had given her well developed muscles which now stood her in good stead. She drew herself up, got her knee on the edge of the rock, and a moment later was on level ground at the top of the bluff. Then she leaned over and called to Sybil: "Can you manage it?" "What a question!" retorted Sybil, indignantly. "I stood below to catch you in case you slipped; but who is there to catch _me_, I beg to inquire?" "The owl," said Orissa. "Will you try it?" "Is it worth while? Tell me what you've found up there." Orissa turned and examined the scene now spread before her. "Better come up, Syb," she said. "But wait a moment and I'll help you." She attached one of the straps to the coil of steel wire and passed the end down to her chum. "Buckle the strap around you--just under your arms," she called. "I'll hold fast the wire at this end. You can't fall, then; but be careful, just the same." With this support Sybil gained confidence. Exercising extreme caution she followed Orissa's example in scaling the cliff and as fast as she mounted her companion took up the slack in the wire and kept it taut. As soon as Sybil stood on the upper bar Orissa grasped her arms and drew her up beside her in safety. "There!" she exclaimed triumphantly. "Where there's a will, there's a way. It wasn't such a difficult feat, after all." "There isn't enough money in the world to hire me to do it again," panted Sybil, trembling a little from the giddy experience. "That may be true, but if our safety requires it we may repeat the performance more than once," declared Orissa. "Unfortunately, we have lost our weapons of defense." "Can't we recover the bars?" "Not without going down for them. If you think you could lower me over the edge----" "I just couldn't, Ris. Don't mention it." "Very well; then we will proceed unarmed. Look, Sybil! Isn't it a glorious prospect?" "In point of comparison, yes," admitted Sybil, speaking slowly as she gazed around her. They were standing on a level table-land which lay between the base of the mountain and the sea. The "mountain" was really a great hill of rock, rising only a hundred and fifty feet or so from the table-land. The level space before them was clothed with a queer sort of verdure. It was not grass, but plants with broad and rather crinkly leaves, so tender that wherever the girls stepped the leaves were broken and crushed. Nor was the color an emerald green; it was rather a pale pea-green and the plants grew not in soil but sprang from tiny cracks and fissures in a sort of shale, or crushed slate, which was constantly kept moist by the seepage of the little stream. The island here made an abrupt curve to the west and a little farther along the girls saw patches of bushes and several small groups of tall, tropical trees, resembling plantains, or palms. There were vines, too, which grew in rank profusion among the rocks and helped relieve the dismal landscape by their greenery. But nowhere appeared any earth, or natural soil; whatever grew, grew among the crushed rock, or shale, which seemed to possess a certain fertility where moisture reached it. "This part of the island seems by far the best," asserted Sybil. "Let us explore it thoroughly." They set out to skirt the edge of the bluff and on reaching the first group of trees found they were bananas. Several bunches of plump fruit hung far up among the branches, quite out of reach. "We'll find a way to get at them if we are detained here long enough to need them," said Orissa. A half mile beyond the place where they had so laboriously climbed the bluff they came upon a broad ravine which led directly down to the water's edge. It appeared as if a huge mass of rock had at some time become detached from the mountain and, sliding downward, had cut away the bluff and hurled itself into the sea, where it now lay a few rods from the water's edge and formed a sort of breakwater. The swirl of the waves around this mass of rock had made a small indentation in the shore, creating a tiny bay with a sandy beach. "Ah," said Orissa, examining this place, "here is where we must establish our camp; there is room enough to float our boat into the bay, where the water is calm, and on that smooth beach I can repair the Hy at my leisure." "Also, from this elevation," added Sybil, "we can fly a flag of distress, which would be seen by any ship approaching the island." Orissa nodded approval. "Here is also water and food," said she. "If we can manage to navigate the Hy to this place we have little to fear from a temporary imprisonment." "We must wait for low tide before we start back," observed Sybil. "Meantime, let's run down to the beach and see how it looks." The descent to the water's edge was easy, and they found the little bay ideal for their purpose. But they could hear the waves breaking with some force against the face of the cliff, just outside their retreat, and it would be hours before they might venture to return to the other side of the island. So again they ascended the bluff and selected a place for their camp, beneath the spreading foliage of the tall bananas. Afterward they sought the source of the little brook, which was high up on the mountain and required a difficult climb to reach it. A spring seemed to well up, clear and refreshing, from a cleft in the rock, but even at its source there was no more water than would run from an ordinary house faucet. "Isn't it astonishing," said Orissa, "how much moisture is dispersed from this tiny stream? I think it never rains here and this spring of water supplies all the island." "This part of it, anyhow. It's mighty lucky for us the babbling brook is here," declared Sybil, drinking deeply of the cool water and then bathing her heated brow with it. "But what stumps me, Ris, is the lack of any life on the island. With water and green stuff both animals and birds might thrive here--to say nothing of bugs and lizards and serpents galore--yet aside from that great white owl we've not seen a living thing." "It really _is_ curious," admitted Orissa. Then, turning her gaze seaward, she exclaimed: "See there, Sybil! Isn't that another island?" "It surely is," was the reply; "and only a few miles away. It's a big island, too, Ris--far bigger than this. Did you bring along your glasses?" "No; they are in the boat." "When we get them we can inspect that island better. Perhaps we could manage to get to it, Ris." "We'll see," was the doubting answer. "I imagine, if that island is so much larger, and proves to be more fertile than this, that we have discovered the reason why the live things, such as birds and animals, prefer it as a place of residence." They made their way back to the bluff and waited patiently for the tide to ebb. According to Orissa's watch it was quite four o'clock before they deemed it safe to venture on the sands, and even then they went barefooted, as an occasional wave still crossed their narrow path. By the time they reached the bay and their boat the two girls were very tired with their long tramp and as it was nearly sundown they decided to spend the night in this location and make the attempt to shift camp next day. CHAPTER VIII AN OWL CONCERT While daylight lasted Orissa was busy examining the injury to the Aircraft and attempting a few preliminary repairs. Her long mechanical experience in the workshop with her brother enabled her to determine accurately what was required to put the machine into proper working order, and she thought she could accomplish the task. "I can't see that it matters, anyhow," said Sybil, watching her chum from a seat upon the sands. "We can't fly, and the boat is our only refuge. Even that we must manage to row or sail in some way." "All very true," returned Orissa, "but I can see no object in neglecting these repairs when I am able to make them. I can take off the bent elevator rods and straighten them, after which the elevator and rudder may assist us in sailing, as we can oppose them to the wind. The engine control is a more serious matter, for the wheel connection was broken off short. But I shall take a rod from a support and fit it in place and then replace the support with our steel wire. That is a sort of makeshift and will require time and nice adjustment, but I can do it, all right. The tools Steve supplied were quite complete; there's even a box marked 'soldering outfit.'" "Is there?" asked Sybil, eagerly. "See if any matches are in it, Ris." "Matches?" "Yes. The lack of matches has disturbed me considerably." "Why, Syb?" "We can't cook without them." "Cook! why, I never thought of such a thing," said Orissa, truly astonished. "What is there to cook, in this place?" "Fish," answered Sybil. "And what would you use for fuel?" "Fuel?" "Yes; what is there to make a fire with?" "Never mind that. Just see about the matches." Orissa opened the soldering case and found an alcohol torch, a flask of alcohol, solder, acid and a box of matches. "Good!" cried Sybil, joyfully. "Don't you dare do any wasteful soldering, Orissa Kane. Save every drop of that alcohol to cook with." Orissa laughed. "I have nothing to solder, just yet," said she. "And you've nothing to fry." "I soon shall have, though," was the confident reply. "We've assured ourselves of one thing, Miss Columbus, and that is that we can sustain life, in case of necessity, on bananas and spring water. So I propose we have one good, luxuriant square meal this evening by way of variety. We've done nothing but lunch for two whole days and I want something hot." "I'm willing, Sybil. Can you catch a fish?" "If there's one in our neighborhood. I'll try it while you are tinkering." Among the tools was a ball of stout cord, and for hook Sybil cut a short length of wire and bent it into shape with a pair of nippers, filing a sharp point to it. Then she opened a can of chipped beef and secured a couple of slices for bait. Going to the point of rock she found a place on the ocean side where a projecting shelf afforded her a seat above fairly deep water, and here she dropped her line. Mr. Cumberford was an enthusiastic fisherman and while Sybil had never cared particularly for the sport she had accompanied her father on many a piscatorial expedition. A tug. The girl hauled in, hand over hand, and found she had captured a large crab, which dropped from the hook to the rocks and with prodigious speed made for the water and disappeared. "Good riddance, old ugly!" laughed Sybil. Scarcely had she thrown her line when another tug came. A second crab floundered upon the rocks, but fell upon his back and lay struggling to turn himself. Sybil ruefully contemplated the empty hook. "I can't feed all our good beef to horrid crabs," she exclaimed; "but the beef seems a good bait and I'll try again." Another crab. Orissa came clambering over the rocks to her friend's side. The sun was sinking. "What luck, Syb?" "Only three crabs. I'm afraid it's too shallow here for fish." Orissa leaned over the still struggling crab--the only one that had not escaped. "Why, we pay big money in Los Angeles for these things," said she. "They're delicious eating; but they have to be boiled, I think, and then cracked and newburged or creamed." "Keep an eye on the rascal, then," said Sybil. "Can't he be eaten just boiled?" "Yes; with mayonnaise." "There's none handy. Let the high-brow go, and we'll fish for something that doesn't require royal condiments." But Orissa weighted the crab with a heavy stone, to hold him down. Then she sat beside Sybil and watched her. "I'm afraid our fish dinner must be postponed," began Miss Cumberford, sorrowfully; but at that moment the line jerked so fiercely that she would have been pulled from her seat had not Orissa made a grab and rescued her. Then they both clung to the line, managing to draw it in by degrees until there leaped from the water a great silvery fish which promptly dove again, exhibiting a strength that nearly won for him his freedom. "Hold fast!" gasped Sybil, exerting all her strength. "We mustn't let him escape." The fish, a twelve-pound rockcod, made a desperate fight; but unfortunately for him he had swallowed the entire hook and so his conquest was certain if the girls could hold on to the line. At last he lay flopping upon the rocks, and seeing he was unable to disgorge the hook, they dragged him to the beach, where Orissa shut her eyes and beheaded him with a hatchet from the tool chest. In the outfit of the chest, which had evidently been intended by Steve and Mr. Cumberford for regular use in connection with the Hydro-Aircraft, they had found two aluminum plates, as well as knives and forks and spoons. Sybil cut two generous slices from the big fish and laid them upon one of the metal plates. Then they opened a can of pork and beans and secured a lump of fat to use in frying. Orissa lighted the alcohol torch and Sybil arranged some loose rocks so that they would support the plate suspended above the flame of the torch. The intense heat melted the fat and the fish was soon fried to a lovely brown. They ate it with biscuits and washed it down with ginger ale, confiding the while to one another that never had they eaten a meal so delicious. They let the torch flicker during the repast, for night had fallen, but when from motives of economy Orissa had extinguished the flame they found a dim light suffused from a myriad of stars. Later a slender crescent moon arose, so they were able to distinguish near-by objects, even with the shadow of the bleak mountain behind them. They had arranged their blankets in the boat and were sitting upon them, talking together in the starlight, when suddenly an unearthly cry smote their ears, followed by an answering shriek--then another, and another--until the whole island seemed echoing with a thousand terrifying whoops. "Ku-whoo-woo-oo-oo! Ku-whoo! Ku-whoo-oo!" The two girls clung together tremblingly as the great chorus burst upon them; but after a moment Sybil pushed her companion away with a nervous little laugh. "Owls!" she exclaimed. "Oh!" said Orissa, relieved as the truth dawned upon her. "I--I thought it was savages." "So it is. I challenge any beings to yell more savagely than those fearful hoot owls. Something must have happened to them, Ris, for they've never made a mutter all day long." "Because they have been asleep," answered Orissa. They had to speak loudly to be heard above the turmoil of shrieks, although the owls seemed mainly congregated upon the distant mountain. The rocks everywhere were full of them, however, and hoots and answering hoots resounded from every part of the island. It was fairly deafening, as well as annoying and uncanny. They waited in vain for the noise to subside. "There must be thousands of them," observed Sybil. "What's the row about, do you suppose!" "Perhaps it's their nature to, Syb. I wonder why we didn't hear the pests last night. When we wakened this morning all was silent as the grave." "I think we floated into the bay about daylight, when all the big-eyes had ducked into their holes. Do you know, Ris, the owls must be responsible for the absence of all other life on the island? They dote on snakes and lizards and beetles and such, and they'd rob the nests of any other birds, who couldn't protect themselves in the nighttime. So I suppose they've either eaten up all the other creatures or scared them to death." "That must be so. But, oh, Sybil! if this racket keeps up every night how are we going to be able to sleep?" "Ah. Just inquire, Cap'n, and if you find out, let me know," replied Sybil, yawning. "I got up so early this morning that I'm dead for sleep this blessed minute." "Lie down; I'll keep watch." "Thank you. This lullaby is too entrancing to miss." The air grew cool presently, as it often does at night in the semi-tropics, and the two girls crouched down and covered themselves to their ears with the blankets. That deadened the pandemonium somewhat and as the owls showed no tendency to abate their shrieks, an hour or two of resigned submission to the inevitable resulted in drowsiness, and finally in sleep. As Sybil said next morning, no one would have believed that mortal girl could have slumbered under the affliction of such ear-splitting yells; but sleep they did, and when they wakened at daybreak profound silence reigned. CHAPTER IX MISS COLUMBUS AND MISS CRUSOE Sybil cooked more fish for their breakfast, although Orissa objected to the extravagant waste of alcohol. But her chum argued that they must waste either the alcohol or the fish and as they had a strenuous day before them a substantial breakfast was eminently desirable. They now packed the aluminum chest and made arrangements for the voyage, for the sea in the bay was smooth as glass and the ocean seemed nearly as quiet outside. Orissa had straightened and repaired the elevator rods and firmly bolted the chest in its original position, but the control must be a matter of future tinkering, the rod needed for its repair being at present stuck in the side of the bluff. It was easy to roll the machine down the beach into the water and set it afloat, but the difficult matter was to propel their queer, top-heavy craft through the water. A quiet sea meant no wind, nor could they feel the slightest breath of air stirring. Oars they had none, nor any substitute for such things; nor could they find anything to pole the boat along with. "There's just one thing to be done," announced Orissa, gravely, "and that is for us to take turns wading behind the thing and pushing it along. By keeping close to the shore we ought to be able to accomplish our journey in that way." "Suppose we strike deep water?" suggested Sybil. "We'll stay close to shore. There seems to be a beach all the way." "I'm game to try," declared Sybil, in a brisk tone, "but it seems at first sight like an impossible task. I'm glad, Miss Columbus, that under these circumstances your island is uninhabited--except by owls who can't see in the daytime." "Were there other inhabitants," returned Orissa, "we would not be undertaking such a thing. The natives would either eat us or assist us." "True for you, Cap'n. I'm going to keep my stockings on. They'll be some protection against those sharp rocks which we're liable to tread on." "I shall do the same," said Orissa. "Take your seat in the boat, Syb, and I'll do the first stunt shoving. After we get around the point I will give you a chance to wade." "Unanimously carried," said Sybil. This undertaking did not appear nearly so preposterous to the two castaways as it may to the reader sitting quietly at home. Except that circumstances had made Orissa and Sybil aëronauts at a time when few girls have undertaken to fly through the air--as many will do in the future--they were quite like ordinary girls in all respects. A capricious fate had driven them into a far-away, unknown sea and cast them upon an uninviting island, but in such unusual circumstances they did what any girls would do, if they're the right sort; kept their courage and exercised every resource to make the most of their discouraging surroundings and keep alive until succor arrived. So far, these two castaways had shown admirable stamina. Had either one been placed in such a position alone, the chances are she might have despaired and succumbed to girlish terrors, but being together their native pride forbade their admitting or even showing a trace of fear. In this manner they encouraged and supported one another, outwardly calm, whatever their inward tremors might be. Orissa Kane was habitually dainty and feminine in both appearance and deportment, yet possessed a temperament cool and self-reliant. Her natural cleverness and quickness of comprehension had been fostered by constant association with her mechanical, inventive brother, and it seemed to her quite proper to help herself when no one was by to render her aid. To wade in the warm, limpid water of the Pacific, at a place far removed from the haunts of humanity, in order to propel the precious craft on which her life and that of her companion might depend, to a better location, seemed to this girl quite the natural thing to do. Sybil's acute sense of humor led her to recognize the laughable side of this queer undertaking; yet even Sybil, much more frail and dependent than her beloved chum, had no thought of refusing her assistance. The aluminum boat rode lightly upon the surface of the sea, the broad, overhanging planes scarcely interfering with its balance. Indeed, the planes probably assisted in keeping the boat upright. Orissa, knee-deep in the water, was not called upon to exert herself more than to wade; but this was a slow and tedious process and required frequent rests. At such times she would sit in the back of the boat and let her feet dangle in the warm water. Gradually the Hy was propelled around the point of rock into the open sea, and by keeping close to shore the girl seldom found herself out of her depth, and then only temporarily. Sybil kept up a constant chatter, inducing Orissa frequently to laugh with her, and that made the task seem more an amusement than hard labor. They took turns at the wading, as had been agreed upon, but because Orissa was much the stronger her periods of playing mermaid were longer than those of her chum. In this manner they made good progress, and though Sybil made a great deal of fun of what she called her "patent propeller," she took her turn at wading very seriously and pushed the strange craft through the water at a good rate of speed. By midday they reached the point where the bluff began to rise and here they sat together in the boat, shaded by the planes, and ate their luncheon with hearty appetites. They found it high tide, yet the water was more quiet than on the preceding day, and when they resumed their journey their progress was much more rapid than before. By two o'clock they had cautiously propelled the boat around the huge boulder that marked the ravine they had found and soon after had rolled it upon the sandy beach and anchored it securely beyond the reach of the tide. "If it would fly," said Orissa, "I think we could push it to the top of the bluff; but if we use it at all, before our friends arrive, it must be as a boat, and not an aëroplane." "Then," returned Sybil, "let's remove the canvas from the lower plane and make a tent of it." "I've been thinking of that," said Orissa, "and I'm sure it is a wise thing to do. I know how to take the clips off, and it won't injure the cloth in the least." "Then get busy, and I'll help you." So, after a good rest on the beach in the sun they resumed their clothing. The wet stockings were thoroughly dried by the sun by the time they were ready for them, and presently they set to work removing the cloth from the lower plane. The task was almost completed when Sybil suddenly exclaimed: "How about a frame for our tent?" Orissa looked puzzled. "Come up on the bluff," she proposed. The incline was not at all difficult and they soon stood on top the bluff. A thorough examination of the place disclosed no means of erecting the tent. A few dead branches that had fallen from the banana trees lay scattered about and there was a quantity of anæmic shrubbery growing here and there, but there was nothing to furnish poles for the tent or to support it in any way. "Stumped, Columbus!" laughed Sybil, as they squatted together in the shade of the trees. "We shall have to drag up the aëroplane, after all, and use the plane-frame for our ridge-pole." Orissa demurred at this. "There is always a way to do a thing, if one can think how," she said. "In this case, chummie dear, magic or legerdemain seems the only modus operandi," maintained Sybil. But Orissa was thinking, and as she thought she glanced at the trees. "Why, of course!" she exclaimed. Sybil's eyes questioned her gravely. "Come on!" cried Orissa, jumping up. "Not a step, Miss Columbus, until I'm enlightened." "Oh, Crusoe, can't you see? It is so extremely simple that I'm ashamed of our stupidity. We've but to stretch our coil of wire between these two trees, throw the canvas over it and weight the bottom with rocks to hold it in place." Sybil sighed. "It was _too_ easy," she admitted. "I never _could_ guess an easy conundrum; but give me a hard nut to crack and I'm a regular squirrel." They returned to the beach for the canvas and wire and Orissa took several of the clips, with which to fasten together the ends of their tent. Ascending once more, this time heavily loaded, to the group of bananas on the bluff, they proceeded to attach the wire to two of the trees. The plane-cover was large enough to afford a broad spread to their "A" tent and when the lower edges were secured by means of heavy stones, and the scattered rocks cleared away from the interior, their new domicile seemed roomy and inviting. Their next task was to fetch the aluminum chest from the beach, and after they had lightened its weight by leaving in the boat all the tools except the hatchet and a small hack saw, they were able to carry the chest between them, although forced to make frequent stops to rest. "The lack of a bedstead worries me most," remarked Sybil. "I don't like the idea of sleeping on the bare ground. How would it do, Ris, to build a stone bed--something like an altar, you know, with a hollow center which we could fill with sand?" "That is a capital idea, Crusoe, and will help clear our front yard of some of those flat stones. They are mostly slate, I think, instead of rock formation. Heave-ho, my hearty, and we'll do the job in a jiffy." The girls lugged into the tent a number of stones of such size as they could comfortably move, and then Orissa, who could put her hand to almost any sort of work, planned and built the extraordinary bedstead. It was laid solid, at first, but when about a foot from the ground she began to extend the sides of the pile and leave a hollow in the middle. This hollow they afterward filled with sand, carrying it in their dress-skirts from the beach. When finally the "Altar to Morpheus"--as Sybil persisted in calling it--was completed, they spread their blankets upon it and it made a very comfortable place to sleep. They also erected a small rock stove, for there was enough firewood to be gathered, in the way of fallen branches, dead leaves and "peelings" from the tree-trunks, to last them for several days. The hatchet and hack saw helped prepare these scraps to fit the stove and by sundown the girls felt quite settled in their new residence. "We ought to fly a flag of distress from some place high up on those trees," observed Orissa; "but we've no flag and no way to shin up the tree." "Couldn't any ship see our white tent from the ocean?" asked Sybil. "Yes; I think so." "As for climbing the tree," continued Sybil, "I wish your creative brain would evolve some way to do it. Those fat, yellow bananas look mighty tempting and they would serve to eke out our larder. Supplies are beginning to diminish with alarming rapidity, Ris. Only a box and a half of those biscuits left." "I know," said Orissa, soberly. "To-morrow we will see what may be done to capture the bananas." After a time Sybil said, softly: "By to-morrow we may begin to look for Daddy and Steve. Of course it will take them some time to find us, but----Don't you think, Orissa, they're quite certain to find us, in the end?" Orissa looked at her companion with a gleam of pity in her deep blue eyes; but she had no desire to disturb Sybil's confidence in their rescue, whatever misgivings oppressed her own heart. "I believe they will find us," she affirmed. "It may not be to-morrow, you know, nor in a week, nor--perhaps--in a month----" "Oh, Orissa!" "But they'll cover the entire Pacific in their search, I am positive, and sooner or later they'll come to this island and--take us away." "Alive or dead," added Sybil, gloomily. "Oh, as for that, we are perfectly safe, and healthy--so far--and I imagine we could live for a long time on this island, if obliged to." Again they sat silently thinking, while twilight gave way to darkness and darkness was relieved by the pale moonlight. Suddenly a shriek sounded in their ears. A great white bird swooped down from the mountain and passed directly between their two heads, disappearing into the night with another appalling cry. This shriek was answered by another and another, until the whole island resounded with the distracting "Ku-whoo-oo!" "The owls are awake," said Orissa, rising resignedly. "Come into the tent, Sybil. I'm not sure they wouldn't attack us if we remained in the open." CHAPTER X MADELINE DENTRY'S PROPOSITION At the aviation field the crowd had watched the departure of the two girls, flying the famous Kane Hydro-Aircraft, with eager interest but assured confidence in their making a successful trip. The Flying Girl never indulged in accidents, and her skill was universally admitted. To be sure, there was an added risk in flying over the water, but with a motor boat to sustain them when they alighted, the danger was reduced to a minimum and, in the minds of nearly all the spectators, a triumphant return was unquestioned. Hundreds of glasses followed the flight and although the management sent several bird-men into the air to amuse the throng the real interest remained centered on the dim speck that marked the course of the Flying Girl. No sooner had Orissa and Sybil started on their voyage than Stephen Kane and Mr. Cumberford ran to the bluff overlooking the sea, where with powerful binoculars they could obtain an unobstructed view of the entire trip to the island and back again. Presently Madeline Dentry joined them, in company with Mr. and Mrs. Tupper, all standing silently with leveled glasses. "She's working beautifully," muttered Steve, referring to his invention with boyish delight. "I'm sorry Ris didn't make a straight line of it, but she always likes to give the dear public the worth of their money.... Ah-h!" "By Jove! that was an awkward turn," cried Mr. Cumberford, as they saw the Aircraft keel at a dangerous angle and then slowly right itself. "I'm surprised at Orissa. She usually makes her turns so neatly." "I've an idea that blamed steering gear stuck," said Steve, ruefully. "I've been a little afraid of it, all along. But the girls are all right now. They're headed dead for the island and if Orissa makes a neat drop to the water the rest is easy." No one spoke again for a time, all being intent upon the flying-machine. When it had seemed to reach the island, and even to pass over it, without a halt, there was an excited hum of amazement from the grand stand. Madeline glanced at Stephen Kane's face and found it as white as a sheet. He was staring with dilated eyes toward the Aircraft. "What in the mischief is Orissa up to now?" questioned Mr. Cumberford, uneasily. "Wasn't she to alight this side of the island?" "Yes," answered Steve hoarsely. "Then----She can't be joking, or playing pranks. It isn't like her. Why, they haven't swerved a hair's breadth from the course, or even slackened speed. They--they----" "They're in trouble, I'm afraid," said Steve in trembling tones. "The control has failed them and they can't stop." "Can't stop!" The little line of observers on the bluff echoed the thrilling words. From the grand stand came a roar of voices filled with tense excitement. Some thought the Flying Girl was attempting a reckless performance, with the idea of shocking the crowd; but Stephen Kane knew better, and so did Mr. Cumberford. As the two men held their glasses to their eyes with shaking hands, straining to discover a sign that Orissa had altered her course and was coming back, Madeline Dentry turned to look earnestly at the brother and father of the girls, knowing she could read the facts more truly from their faces than by focusing her own glasses on that tiny speck in the sky. The moments dragged slowly, yet laden with tragic import. The powerful lenses lost the speck, now found it again--lost it for good--yet the men most affected by this strange occurrence still glared at the sky, hoping against hope that their fears were unfounded and that the Aircraft would come back. Some one plucked Steve's sleeve. It was Chesty Todd, his big body shaken like an aspen. "It--it has run away with 'em, Steve. It's gone wrong, man; there's danger ahead!" "Eh?" said Steve, dully. "Wake up and do something!" Steve lowered his glasses and looked helplessly at Mr. Cumberford. Cumberford returned the stare, glowering upon the inventor. "That's right; it's up to you, Kane. What are you going to do?" he asked coldly. "There's no other hydro-aëroplane on the grounds," said the boy brokenly. "Then get an aëroplane," commanded Cumberford, sharply. "It would mean death to anyone who ventured to follow our girls in an aëroplane--not rescue for them." Cumberford moaned, as if in pain; then stamped his foot impatiently, as if ashamed of his weakness. "Well--well! What then, Stephen Kane?" he demanded. [Illustration: "It--it has run away with 'em Steve. It's gone wrong, man; there's danger ahead!"] Steve wrung his hands, realizing his helplessness. "Gentlemen," said Madeline Dentry, laying a gentle hand on Mr. Cumberford's arm, "let me help you. There is no reason for despair just yet; the condition of those girls is far from desperate, it seems to me. Did I understand you to say, Mr. Kane, that your sister is unable to stop the engine, or to turn the machine?" Steve nodded. "That's it," he said. "Something has broken. I can't imagine what it is, but there's no other way to explain the thing." "Very well," rejoined Madeline, coolly, "let us, then, try to consider intelligently what will happen to them. Will they presently descend and alight upon the surface of the water?" "I'm--I'm afraid not," Steve answered. "If that were possible, Orissa would have done it long ago. I think something has happened to affect the control, and therefore my sister is helpless." "In that case, how long will they continue flying?" persisted Madeline. "As long as the gasoline lasts--three or four hours." "And how fast are they traveling, Mr. Kane?" "I think at the rate of about forty-five miles an hour." Miss Dentry made a mental calculation. "Then they will descend about a hundred and fifty miles from here, in a straight line over that island," said she. "Having a boat under them, I suppose they will float indefinitely?" Again Steve nodded, looking at the girl curiously and wondering at her logic. "If--if they manage to alight upon the water in good shape," he replied more hopefully, "they'll be safe enough--for a time. And they have food and water with them. The only danger I fear for them, at present, is that when the gasoline is exhausted the machine will be wrecked." "Don't you aviators often shut off your engine and volplane to the ground?" asked Madeline. "Yes, with the elevator and rudder in full control. But that isn't the case with Orissa. I'm certain her elevator control has bound in some way. Were it broken, and free, the Aircraft would have wobbled, and perhaps tumbled while we were looking at it. The elevator is wedged, you see, and my sister can't move it at all. So, when the gasoline gives out, I--I'm not sure how the machine will act." "Anyway," exclaimed Madeline, with sudden determination, "we are wasting valuable time in useless talk. Follow me at once." "Where to?" asked Steve, in surprise. "To my yacht. I'm going after the girls. Please come with us, Mr. Cumberford--and you, too, Mr. Todd. Aunty," turning to Mrs. Tupper, "if you require anything from the hotel for the journey I will send you there in the car; but you must hurry, for every moment is precious." Mr. Cumberford straightened up, animated and alert, while his face brightened with a ray of hope. "We will take my car to the bay," said he, eagerly, "and Mr. and Mrs. Tupper can use your own car to visit the hotel. Will you accompany us, or ride with your aunt?" "With you," decided Madeline. "I must have the captain get up steam and prepare to sail. It won't take long; I've ordered them to keep a little steam all the time, in case I wish to take a party out for a ride." Even as they were speaking all walked rapidly toward the long line of motor cars. Mrs. Tupper, who had not ventured a remark or made any protest--quite contrary to her usual custom--now astonished her niece by saying: "Never mind the hotel; let us all go directly to the yacht. With those two poor girls in danger I couldn't bear to think I had caused a moment's delay. It is very comfortable on the yacht and--we'll get along all right for a day." "To be sure; to be sure," agreed Mr. Tupper, nervously. "I shall be seasick; I'm bound to be seasick; I always am; but in this emergency my place is by Madeline's side." Of course no protest would have affected Madeline's determination, and the worthy couple recognized that fact perfectly; hence they diplomatically abetted her plan. Captain Krell had attended the exhibitions at the aviation field, but while there he kept one eye on Miss Dentry. During the panic caused by the runaway aëroplane he saw Miss Dentry in earnest conversation with Cumberford and Kane and marked their hurried departure from the field. So the gallant captain scuttled back to the yacht at his best speed, to find Miss Dentry already aboard and the engineer shoveling in coal. Both Mr. Cumberford and Steve knew that the _Salvador_ was by odds the fastest ship in the bay, and Madeline's prompt offer to go to the rescue of their imperilled daughter and sister awakened hope in their breasts and aroused their lively gratitude. After all it did not take the yacht long to get under way. It was so perfectly manned and in such complete readiness that steam was the only requisite to begin a trip instantly. Madeline could scarcely wait while with aggravating deliberation they hoisted anchor, but she became more composed as the yacht slowly headed out of the bay, the crew alert and the big captain as eager as any of them to rescue the daring bird-maids. By the time the _Salvador_ reached the open sea the shore was lined with thousands of spectators, and the sight of the graceful yacht headed in chase of the two girls raised a cheer so lusty and heartfelt that it reached Madeline's ears and caused her to flush with pleasure and renewed determination. CHAPTER XI A GAME OF CHECKERS "Nine o'clock!" cried Orissa, giving Sybil a nudge. "Are you going to sleep all day, Crusoe, like those dreadful owls?" "I'd like to," muttered Miss Cumberford, regretfully opening her eyes. "My, what a blessed relief from that night of torture! Don't you think, Ris, that those feathered fiends only stopped the concert because they'd howled until their throats were sore?" "I fear we made a mistake in changing our camp," returned Orissa, busy with her toilet. "The shrieks sounded much louder than they did the night before." "Question is," said Sybil, rolling off the improvised bed, "how long we are to endure this imprisonment. If it's to be a mere day or so, don't let's move again. However, if you think we're here for life, I propose we murder every owl and have done with them." "We can't read the future, of course," remarked Orissa thoughtfully, as she stroked her beautiful hair with her back-comb--the only toilet article she possessed. "Steve may get to us any day, or he may have a hard time finding us. He will never give up, though, nor will your father, until our retreat is located and--and--our fate determined." "Poor Daddy!" sighed Sybil; "he'll be worried to death. I've led him a dog's life, I know; but he's just as fond and faithful as if I'd been a dutiful daughter." "I hope they won't tell mother," said Orissa. "The anxiety would be so hard for her to bear. _We_ know we're fairly comfortable, Syb; but they can't know that, nor have any clear idea what's become of us." They fell quiet, after this, and exchanged few words until they were outside the tent and had made a fire of twigs and leaves in the rock stove. Sybil warmed the last of the baked beans, adding a little water to moisten them. With these they each ate a biscuit and finished their breakfast with a draught of cool water from the spring. After the meal they wandered among the queer greenery they had before observed and Sybil called attention to the fact that many of the broad, tender leaves had been nibbled at the edges. "The owls did that, of course," said Orissa, "and if it is good food for owls I'm sure it wouldn't hurt us." "Doesn't it look something like lettuce?" asked Sybil. "Yes; perhaps that is what it is--wild lettuce." She plucked a leaf and tasted it. The flavor was agreeable and not unlike that of lettuce. "Well," said Sybil, after tasting the green, "here's an item to add to our bill-of-fare. If only we had dressing for it a salad would be mighty appetizing." "There's the vinegar in the bottle of pickles," proposed Orissa. "It won't go very far, but it will help. Let us try the new dish for luncheon." "And how about the bananas?" asked Miss Cumberford. "I'll proceed to get them right now," promised Orissa, walking back to the group of trees. The bare, smooth trunks extended twenty feet in the air before a branch appeared. The branches were broad, stout leaves, among which hung the bunches of fruit. "I hate to ruin a perfectly good tree," declared Orissa, picking up the hatchet, "but self-preservation is the first law of nature." "Goodness me! You're not thinking of chopping it down, I hope," exclaimed Sybil. "No; that would be too great a task to undertake. I've a better way, I think." She selected a tree that had three large bunches of bananas on it. One bunch was quite ripe, the next just showing color and the third yet an emerald green. Each bunch consisted of from sixty to eighty bananas. First Orissa chopped notches on either side of the trunk, at such distances as would afford support for her feet. When these notches rose as high as she could reach, she brought two broad straps from the Aircraft, buckled them together around the tree-trunk, and then passed the slack around her body and beneath her arms. Thus supported she began the ascent, placing her feet in the notches she had already cut and chopping more notches as she advanced. In this manner the girl reached the lower branches and after climbing into them removed the strap and crept along until she reached the first bunch of bananas. "Stand from under!" she cried to Sybil and began chopping at the stem. Presently the huge bunch fell with a thud and Sybil gleefully applauded by clapping her hands. "The lower ones are a bit mushy, I fear," she called to her chum, "but that can't be helped." "We will eat those first," said Orissa, creeping to the second bunch. She managed to cut it loose, and the third, after which she replaced the strap around her body and cautiously descended to the ground. The two girls then rolled over the ripest bunch and found the damage confined to a couple of dozen bananas, the skins of which had burst from the force of the heavy fall. A moment later they were feasting on the fruit, which they found delicious. "I've read somewhere," said Sybil, "that bananas alone will sustain life for an indefinite period. They are filling and satisfying, and they're wholesome. We needn't worry any longer for fear of starvation, Ris." "I imagine we'd get deadly tired of the things, in time," replied Orissa; "but, as you say, they'll sustain life, and just at present they taste mighty good." They drew the ripest bunch into the tent, but left the others lying in the bright sunshine. "Now," announced Orissa, "we must make an expedition to that crevasse and rescue the bar and the lever, which we left sticking in the rocks. The tide is low, so we may go around by way of the shore." A leisurely walk of fifteen minutes brought them to the crevasse, down which tumbled the tiny brook. Orissa, as the most venturesome, climbed to the bar, from whence she managed to pull the lever out of the owl's nest into which she had formerly thrust it. If the owl was hidden there now it failed to disclose its presence and on descending to the rocks Orissa easily released the bar. So now, armed once more with their primitive weapons, the girls returned to their camp. "I can attach these to our machine at any time," said the air-maid, "so I think it may be best to keep them beside us, to use in case of emergency. I haven't felt entirely safe since we lost them." "Nor I," returned Sybil. "We haven't encountered anything dangerous, so far, but I like to feel I've something to pound with, should occasion arise." That afternoon Orissa worked on the Aircraft, repairing the damage caused by the sliding chest. She also took apart the steering gear, filed the bearings carefully, and afterward replaced the parts, fitting them nicely together and greasing them thoroughly. As a result of this labor the gear now worked easily and its parts were not likely again to bind. "Steve made it altogether too light for its purpose," said the girl. "On the next machine I must see that he remedies that fault." Sybil had been lying half asleep on the sands, shaded by the spreading plane of the Aircraft. She now aroused herself and looked at her companion with a whimsical expression while the other girl carefully gathered up the tools and put them away. "All ready to run, Ris?" she asked. "All ready." "I suppose with the gasoline tanks filled we could go home?" "Yes; I think so. With the wind in our favor, as it was when we came, we ought to cover the same distance easily." "Very good. I hope you are now satisfied, having worked like a nailer for half a day, getting a machine in order that can't be utilized. Gasoline doesn't grow on this island, I imagine--unless it could be made from bananas." "No; it doesn't grow here." "And none of the department stores keep it." "True." "But we've got a flying-machine, in apple-pie order, except that we're using one of the plane coverings for a tent and a lever for a weapon of defense." "Absolutely correct, Crusoe." "Hooray. Let's go to sleep again, dear. Those screechers will keep us awake all night, you know." She closed her eyes drowsily and Orissa sat beside her and looked thoughtfully over the expanse of blue ocean. There was nothing in sight; nothing save the big island at the west, which seemed from this distance to be much more desirable than the bleak rocks on which the adventurers had stranded. Orissa got her binoculars and made a careful inspection of the place. Through the powerful glasses she could discover forests, green meadowland and the gleam of a small river. It was a flat island, yet somewhat elevated above the surface of the sea. She judged it to be at least four times bigger than the island they were now on. The distance rendered it impossible to discover whether the place was inhabited or not. No houses showed themselves, but of course she could see only one side of the island from where she sat. Orissa did not feel sleepy, in spite of her wakeful night, so she took Sybil's fishline and baited the hook with a scrap of beef. Going to the top of the bluff she began to fish, and as she fished she reviewed in mind all the conditions of their misfortune and strove to find a way of relief. Being unsuccessful in both occupations she finally came back to the little bay and waded out to the big rock that guarded the mouth of the inlet. On the ocean side there was good depth of water and in the course of the next half hour she landed a huge crawfish, two crabs and a two-pound flat fish resembling a sole. This last is known as "chicken-halibut" and is delicious eating. She aroused Sybil, and the two girls built a fire, using dry twigs from the brushwood, a supply of which they had gathered and placed near their tent. In the fat taken from the crawfish they fried the halibut for supper. Then among the coals and hot stones they buried the crabs, keeping a little fire above them until they were sure the creatures were thoroughly roasted. Next day they cracked the shells and picked out the meat, deciding they might live luxuriously even on an island of rocks, provided they exercised their wits and took advantage of all conditions Nature afforded them. At dark thousands of great owls came from their retreats among the rocks and flew ceaselessly about the island, uttering their distracting cries. Nor was there a moment's peace again until daybreak. The birds were evidently in search of food, and found it; but what it consisted of the girls could not imagine. Singularly enough, the castaways were growing accustomed to the deafening clamor and as they felt quite safe within their enclosed tent they were able to sleep--in a fitful, restless way--a good part of the night. The following day they began to find the hours dragging tediously, for the first time since their captivity. Arm in arm the two girls wandered around the elevated end of their island, exploring it thoroughly but making no new discoveries of importance. The barren, slimy hollow that lay inland had no temptations to lure them near it and so there remained little else to do but watch the ocean and prepare their meals. "This is our fourth day of isolation," announced Sybil, in a tone more irritable than she was wont to use. "I wonder how long this thing will last." "We must be patient," said Orissa, gently. "Our dear ones are making every effort to find us, I'm sure, and of course they will succeed in time. We are at some distance from the usual route of ships; that is evident; and for this reason it will be more difficult for our friends to locate us. I suppose that a few days more may easily pass by before we catch sight of a boat coming to get us. But they'll come, Syb," she repeated, confidently, "and meantime we--we must be--patient." Sybil stared across the water. "Do you play checkers?" she asked abruptly. "Steve and I used to play, long ago. I suppose I could remember the game, and it might amuse us; but we have no checkerboard, nor men for it." "Pah! and you the sister of an inventor!" cried Sybil scornfully. "I'm astonished at you, Miss Kane. Haven't you enough reflected ingenuity to manufacture a checkerboard?" "Why, I think so," said Orissa. "The idea hadn't occurred to me. I'll see what I can do." "You make the board, and I'll find the men," proposed Sybil, and springing to her feet she ran down to the beach, glad to have anything to occupy her and relieve the dreary dragging of the hours. Orissa looked around her, pondering the problem. Material for a checkerboard seemed hopelessly lacking, yet after a little thought she solved the problem fairly well. First she ripped the flounce from her black silk petticoat and with the jackknife from the tool kit she cut out thirty-two black squares, each two inches in diameter. Then she took a tube of prepared glue that was in the outfit and walked up the incline to their tent, in the center of which stood the aluminum chest. This chest, being of a dull silvery color, and quite smooth on all its sides, was to be the groundwork of the checkerboard squares, as well as the board itself and the elevated table to play on. Orissa glued the squares of black silk to the cover of the chest, leaving a similar square space on the aluminum surface between each one. When this was accomplished she pasted a narrow edge of black around the entire sixty-four squares, thus marking their boundary. She was very proud of this work and was regarding it admiringly when Sybil entered. "How clever!" cried her chum, genuinely enthusiastic. "Really, Miss Columbus, you have done better than I. But here are the checker-men, and they'll do very nicely." As she spoke she dumped from her handkerchief upon the board twenty-four shells which she had carefully selected from those that littered the beach. Twelve were dark in color and twelve pearly white and being of uniform size they made very practical checkers. "Now, then," said she, squatting beside the chest and arranging her shells in order, "I'll play you a series of games for a box of bonbons, to be purchased when we return to civilization." "How many games?" asked Orissa, seating herself opposite. "Let us say--the best three in five. If that's too rapid we will make the next bet the best six in ten, or twelve in twenty. Agreeable, Columbus?" "Entirely so, Crusoe." It was really a capital diversion. Sybil played very well and it required all Orissa's cleverness to oppose her. At times they tired of the play and went for a stroll on the bluff; and always, no matter how intent they were upon the game, they kept watchful eyes on the ocean. And in this manner the days dragged on their weary lengths and the nights resounded to the shrill cries of the owls. One morning Sybil asked: "Isn't to-day Tuesday, Orissa?" "Yes," was the quiet reply. "We've inhabited this wilderness just a week." CHAPTER XII THE QUEST OF THE SALVADOR On the roomy forward deck of the _Salvador_ an earnest conference was held. "How fast are we going?" asked Steve. "The captain says about fifteen miles an hour. That's our best clip, it seems," replied Madeline. "And very good speed," added Captain Krell, proudly. "So it is, for an English yacht," agreed Mr. Cumberford. "In that case," said Steve, "we are moving one-third as fast as the Aircraft did, and we were about two hours later in starting. Provided the girls exhaust their gasoline in flying, they will make a hundred and fifty to two hundred miles, requiring five or six hours' time. Then they will alight, bobbing upon the water and helpless to move in any direction except where the current carries them. It will take us eighteen hours to reach that same spot, and we will therefore be twelve hours behind them. Do you all follow me?" They nodded, listening intently. "Now, the girls left at about one thirty this afternoon. If my calculations are correct, they'll take to the water anywhere from six thirty to seven thirty this evening. We shall overtake them at about the same hour to-morrow morning. Unless they drift considerably out of their course we shall see the white planes at daybreak and have no trouble in running alongside. But there's always the chance that through some cause they may manage to drop to water sooner, and perhaps run the boat toward home. Orissa is a very clever girl, as you all know; calm and resourceful; quick-witted and brave. She will do all that anyone could do to bring the Aircraft under control. So the one danger, it appears to me, is that we may pass them during the night." "That danger, sir," said Captain Krell, "may be reduced to a minimum. We carry a very powerful searchlight, which shall be worked by my men all night, illuminating not only the course ahead, but the sea for miles on every side. As you say, Mr. Kane, the white planes may be easily seen against the blue water, and we positively cannot miss them during the night." "You--er--interest me," said Mr. Cumberford, looking more cheerful. "We seem to have everything in our favor, thanks to Miss Dentry's generosity." "I'm _so_ glad I bought this yacht!" exclaimed Madeline, fervently, "for it enabled me to go to the assistance of those poor girls. I'm sure it was all providential." "Let us hope," said Mr. Tupper pompously, "the young women will survive until we reach them. However, we shall learn their fate, in any event, which will afford us a certain degree of satisfaction." That speech was like a douche of cold water, but although the gentleman received various indignant and reproachful looks he had "sized up the situation" with fair accuracy. Mr. Cumberford, however, since those first despairing moments on the aviation field, had recovered command of his feelings and seemed hopeful, if not confident, of his daughter's ultimate escape from serious mishap. He was exceedingly fond of Orissa, too, and even had not Sybil been with her it is certain that he would have been much worried and eager to go to her assistance. Stephen Kane, on the contrary, grew more nervous as time passed. Better than the others he knew the dangers that threatened the girls if, as he suspected, the steering gear had broken and the elevator and engine control been rendered useless. He racked his brain to think what could have caused the trouble, but never a hint of the truth dawned upon him. The third member of the Kane-Cumberford party, Mr. H. Chesterton Radley-Todd, had maintained a discreet silence ever since Miss Dentry had invited him to join the rescue party. This she had been led to do by the look of abject misery on the boy's face, and he had merely pressed her hand to indicate his thanks. Chesty Todd was never much of a conversationalist and his appreciation of his own awkwardness rendered him diffident unless occasion demanded prompt and aggressive action, when he usually came to the front in an efficient if unexpected manner. Madeline Dentry, seeing Chesty Todd merely as he appeared, wondered in a casual way why such a blundering, incompetent booby had been employed by the Kane-Cumberford firm, but as the big boy was a part of the "camp" and was so evidently disturbed by the accident, she was glad to relieve him to the extent of adding him to the party. Very soon after the _Salvador_ started, however, nearly every one on board began to feel the presence of the youthful press agent. It was Chesty Todd who discovered the searchlight aboard and long before the conference on the deck he had primed the captain to use it during the coming night. It was Chesty Todd who sat on a coal-bunker in the hold, swinging his long legs and inspiring the engineer, by dark insinuations concerning the _Salvador's_ ability to speed, to give her engines every pound of steam she could carry. It was Chesty who pumped the steward to learn how well the boat was provisioned and supplied the deck hands with choice cigars until they were ready to swear he was a trump and imagined him quite the most important personage aboard, after Miss Dentry. The chef served an excellent dinner in the cabin, to which no one did full justice except Mr. Tupper. All were loth to leave the deck long enough to eat, although they knew a watch was stationed in the "crow's nest" with powerful glasses. When night fell the searchlight came into play and the entire party sat huddled forward, eagerly following the sweep of light across the waters. It was ten o'clock when Mr. and Mrs. Tupper retired, and midnight when Madeline went to her room, leaving orders to call her if the Aircraft was sighted. Stephen Kane, Mr. Cumberford and Chesty Todd sat by the rail all night, wide-eyed and alert. Once the searchlight caught the sails of a ship and they all leaped up, thinking it was the Aircraft. Again, something dark--a tangled mass of wreckage--swept by them and set their hearts throbbing until they held the light steadily upon it and discovered it to be a jumble of kelp and driftwood. Daylight came and found them wan but still wakeful, for now they were getting close to the limit of flight possible to the Aircraft. Captain Krell was a skillful navigator and, having taken his course in a direct line from Sealskin Island, following the flight of Orissa's Hydro-Aircraft, had not swerved a hair's breadth from it the entire voyage. "You see," said Steve, peering ahead in the strengthening daylight, "the _Salvador_ hasn't dodged a bit, and the Aircraft couldn't. So we're bound to strike our quarry soon." "Wind," suggested Chesty. "Yes; the wind might carry them a little out of their course, to be sure," admitted Steve; "but I think--I hope--not far enough to escape our range of vision." At about seven o'clock, at Chesty Todd's suggestion, the engines were slowed down somewhat, that the lookout aloft might have better opportunity to examine the sea on all sides of the ship. The yacht still maintained fair speed, however, and the call to breakfast finding no one willing to respond, Madeline ordered coffee and rolls served on deck, where they could all watch while refreshing themselves. "What's your run, Captain?" asked Steve, nervously. "Hundred and forty miles, sir." "Indeed! Go a little slower, please." The captain rang the bell to slow down. Presently the _Salvador_ was creeping along at the rate of ten miles an hour. "The gasoline," said Steve, "may have carried them farther than I figured on. It's a new machine and I haven't had a chance to test the exact capacity of the tanks." The moments dragged tediously. Every person aboard was laboring under tense excitement. "What's the run, Captain?" "One fifty-two, sir." "Ah." Nothing was in sight; only an uninterrupted stretch of blue sea. Hour after hour passed. At noon the run was two hundred and twenty miles and the aëroplane had not been sighted. Steve turned and faced those assembled. "It's no use going farther in this direction," he said, the words trembling on his lips. "I'm very sure they couldn't have made this distance." "Evidently their course has been altered by the wind," added Mr. Cumberford. "Gusty, at times, last night," asserted Chesty. Steve nodded. "A strong wind might do what the girls couldn't," said he. "That is, it might alter the direction of their flight. How did it blow?" "At four o'clock, from the north; at five fifteen, from the west; at six, due south," said Chesty. There was silence for a few minutes. The engines had been shut down and the boat lay drifting upon the water. "I think it will be well to examine the charts," suggested Mr. Todd, "and find out where we are." "I know where we are," said Captain Krell. "Wait a moment; I'll get the chart, so you may all study it." He brought it from his cabin and spread it upon a folding table on the deck. A penciled line ran directly from the port of San Diego to a point south by southwest. "A few more hours on the same course and we'd sight the little island of Guadaloup, off the Mexican coast," explained Captain Krell. "But the aëroplane couldn't go so far; therefore we must search on either side the course we've come." They all bent their heads over the map. "What are those unmarked dots which are scattered around?" inquired Mr. Cumberford. "Islands, sir. Mostly bits of rock jutting out of the sea. They're not important enough to name, nor do they appear on an ordinary map; but a seaman's chart indicates them, for unless we had knowledge of their whereabouts we might bump into them." "They're mostly to the south of us, I see," remarked Mr. Tupper. "Yes, sir." "And it's south we must go, I think," said Steve, looking at Chesty Todd for the youth to confirm his judgment. "There was no wind to take them to the west of this course, I believe." "That's my idea," declared the press agent. "I would suggest our doubling back and forth, on the return trip, covering forty or fifty miles at each leg. Seems like we couldn't miss 'em, that way." After much consultation this plan was finally agreed upon. The captain outlined his course and followed it, so that during the next four days not a square yard of ocean escaped their search. But it was all in vain and at the end of the fourth day, with the California coast again in sight, there was scarcely a person aboard who entertained the slightest hope of finding the missing girls. CHAPTER XIII CAPRICIOUS FATE A wireless was sent to the shore, reporting the failure of the _Salvador_ to locate the runaway aëroplane and asking if any tidings had been received of Orissa Kane and Sybil Cumberford. There was no news. Madeline called her passengers together again for a further consultation. "What shall we do?" she asked. Neither Steve nor Mr. Cumberford could well reply. Miss Dentry had generously placed her splendid yacht at their disposal and in person had conducted the search, neglecting no detail that might contribute to their success. But failure had resulted and they could not ask her to continue what appeared to be a hopeless undertaking. Steve, who had had ample time to consider this finale, tried to answer her question. "We are very grateful to you, Miss Dentry," he said, "and both Mr. Cumberford and I fully appreciate the sacrifice you have made in so promptly trying to rescue our girls. That we face failure is no fault of yours, nor of your crew, and I realize that you have already done all that humanity or friendship might require. Of course you understand that we cannot give up until my sister's fate, and that of Miss Cumberford, is positively determined. Therefore, as soon as we reach shore we shall organize another expedition to continue the quest." "You are doing me an injustice, sir," returned the girl gravely. "Whatever my former plans may have been I am now determined not to abandon this voyage until we have found your sister and her companion. I was greatly attracted by Orissa Kane, and grieve over her sad fate sincerely. Moreover, I do not like to put my hand to the plow without completing the furrow. Unless you believe you can charter a better boat for your purpose than the _Salvador_, or can find a crew more devoted to your interests, I shall order Captain Krell to turn about and renew the search." That, of course, settled the matter. The _Salvador_ put about and returned to a point where the see-sawing must be renewed and extended to cover more expanse of ocean. Chesty Todd, coming to where Madeline stood beside the rail, looked into her piquant face with frank admiration. "Excuse me, Miss Dentry," said he, "but you're what I'd call a brick. I knew, of course, you'd stick it out, but there's no harm in congratulating a girl on being true blue. I'm awfully glad you--you had the grit to tackle it again. I'll never be myself again until those girls are found." She looked up at him reflectively. "Which of the young ladies are you engaged to?" she asked. "Me?" blushing like a schoolboy; "neither one, if you please. They--they're only kids, you know." "Then which one do you love?" "Both!" said Chesty Todd, earnestly. "They're splendid girls, Miss Dentry; _your_ sort, you know." She smiled. "Then it's the 'sort' you love?" she asked. "Yes, if you'll allow me. Not the individual--as yet. When I love the individual I hope it'll be the right sort, but I'm so humbly unlucky I'll probably make a mistake." For the first time since their acquaintance Madeline found the big boy interesting. She knew very little of the history of the Kanes and Cumberfords, but found Chesty eager to speak of them and of his past relations with them, being loud in his praise for the entire "combination." Cumberford was an eccentric fellow, according to Mr. Radley-Todd, but "straight as a die." Steve was chock full of ability and talent, but not very practical in business ways. Mrs. Kane, Orissa's blind mother, was the sweetest and gentlest lady in the world, Sybil Cumberford a delightful mystery that defied fathoming but constantly allured one to the attempt, while Orissa---- "Orissa Kane is a girl you'll have to read yourself, Miss Dentry, and the more you study her the better you'll love her. She's girl all over, and the kind of girl one always hopes to meet but seldom does. Old-fashioned in her gentleness, simplicity, truth and candor; up-to-the-minute in the world's latest discovery--the art of flying. Modest as Tennyson's dairymaid; brave as a trooper; a maid with a true maid's heart and a thorough sport when you give her an aëroplane to manage. Excuse me. I don't often talk this way; usually I can only express myself in writing. But a fellow who wouldn't enthuse over Orissa Kane could only have one excuse--total dumbness." "I see," said Madeline, slyly. "Miss Kane is the type of the 'sort' of girl you love." "Exactly. But tell me, since you've started on such an indefinite cruise, is the _Salvador_ well provisioned?" "From the sublime to the ridiculous! We have stores to last our party six weeks, without scrimping." "Good. And coal?" "Enough for a month's continuous run. I had intended a trip to Honolulu--perhaps as far as Japan--and had prepared for it even before I was privileged to lay eyes on my yacht." "How fortunate that was, for all of us! Somehow, I've a feeling we shall find those girls, this time. Before, I had a sort of hunch we were destined to fail. Can you explain that?" "I shall not try." "We didn't allow enough for the wind. A sudden gust might have whirled the Aircraft in any direction, and it would jog along on that route until the next blow." "Do you believe they are still alive?" she asked softly. "Yes; I've never been able to think of them as--as--otherwise. They are wonderfully clever girls, and Orissa knows aëroplanes backwards and forwards. She's as much at home in the air as a bird; and why shouldn't the machine fall gently to the water, when the gasoline gave out? If it did, they can float any length of time, and the Pacific has been like a mill pond ever since they started. According to Mr. Cumberford, they have enough food with them to last for several days. I've an idea we shall run across them bobbing up and down on the water, as happy and contented as two babes in the wood." The big fellow sighed as he said this, and Madeline understood he was trying to encourage himself, as well as her. In spite of Chesty Todd's prediction, day followed day in weary search and the lost aëroplane was not sighted. Captain and crew had now abandoned hope and performed their duties in a perfunctory way. Stephen Kane had grown thin and pale and deep lines of grief marked his boyish face. Mr. Cumberford was silent and stern. He paced the deck constantly but avoided conversation with Steve. Madeline, however, kept up bravely, and so did Chesty Todd. They were much together, these trying days, and did much to cheer one another's spirits. Had a vote been taken, on that tenth dreary day, none but these two would have declared in favor of prolonging what now appeared to be a hopeless quest. "You see," said Chesty to Madeline, yet loud enough to be heard by both Cumberford and Steve, "there's every chance of the girls having drifted to some island, where of course they'd find food in plenty; or they may have been picked up by some ship on a long voyage, and we'll hear of 'em from some foreign port. There are lots of ways, even on this trackless waste, of their being rescued." This suggestion was made to counteract the grim certainty that the castaways had by now succumbed to starvation, if they still remained afloat. Several small islands had already been encountered and closely scanned, with the idea that the girls might have sought refuge on one of them. The main thing that kept alive the spark of hope was the fact that no vestige of the Aircraft had been seen. It would float indefinitely, whether wrecked or not, for the boat had enough air-tight compartments to sustain it even in a high sea. On the evening of this tenth day the _Salvador_ experienced the first rough weather of the trip. The day had been sultry and oppressive and toward sundown the sky suddenly darkened and a stiff breeze caught them. By midnight it was blowing a hurricane and even the sturdy captain began to have fears for the safety of the yacht. There was little danger to the stout craft from wind or waves, but the sea in this neighborhood was treacherous and full of those rocky islets so much dreaded by mariners. Captain Krell studied his chart constantly and kept a sharp lookout ahead; but in such a night, on a practically unknown sea, there was bound to be a certain degree of peril. There was as little sleep for the passengers as for the crew on this eventful night. The women had been warned not to venture on deck, where it was dangerous even for the men; but Madeline Dentry would not stay below. She seemed to delight in defying the rage of the elements. Clinging to the arm of Chesty Todd, the huge bulk of whose six-feet-three stood solid as a monument, she peered through the night and followed the glare of the searchlight, now doubly useful, for it showed the pilot a clear sea ahead. Mr. Tupper bumped into them, embraced Chesty for support and then bounded to the rail, to which he clung desperately. "Why are you on deck?" asked Madeline, sternly. "Go below at once!" Just then a roll of the yacht slid him across the deck, tumbled him against the poop and then carried him sprawling into the scuppers. When he recovered his breath Mr. Tupper crawled cautiously to the companionway and disappeared into the cabin. Steve and Mr. Cumberford had lashed themselves to the rail and in spite of the drenching spray continued to peer into the wild night with fearful intensity. Both were sick at heart, for they knew if the girls had managed to survive till now, their tiny boat would be unable to weather the storm. Every shriek of the wind, which often resembled a human cry, set them shivering with terror. It was toward morning when the glare of the searchlight suddenly revealed a dark peak just ahead. Stephen Kane and Mr. Cumberford saw it, even as the warning scream of the lookout rang in their ears. Captain Krell saw it, and marveling at its nearness, sprang to the wheel. Madeline and Chesty saw it, too, and instinctively the big fellow put his arms around her as if to shield her. Wild cries resounded from the deck; the bells rang frantically; the engines stopped short and then reversed just as a huge wave came from behind, caught the _Salvador_ on its crest and swept her forward in its onward rush. Two men threw their weight upon the wheel without effect: the propeller was raised by the wave above the water line and whirred and raced madly in the air, while beneath the gleam of the searchlight a monstrous mass of rock seemed swiftly advancing to meet the fated ship. Past the port side, where Madeline and her escort clung, swept a jagged point of rock; the yacht bumped with a force that sent everyone aboard reeling forward in a struggling heap; then it trembled, moaned despairingly and lay still, while the wave that had carried it to its doom flooded the decks with tons of water and receded to gloat over the mischief it had caused. The searchlight was out; blackness surrounded the bruised and bewildered men and women who struggled to regain their feet, while in their ears echoed a chorus of terrifying shrieks not of the wind, but so evidently emanating from living creatures that they added materially to the panic of the moment. Chesty Todd released Madeline, gasping and half drowned, from the tangle of humanity in the bow, and succeeded in getting her to the rail. The bow of the yacht was high and it lay over on one side, so that the deck was at a difficult angle. "Are--are we sinking?" asked the girl, confused and unnerved by the calamity. "No, indeed," replied Chesty, his mouth to her ear. "We can't sink, now, for we're on solid ground and lying as still as a stuffed giraffe." "Oh, what shall we do?" she cried, wringing her hands. "If we are wrecked we can't save Orissa--perhaps we can't save ourselves! Oh, what shall we do?--what shall we do?" The boy saw that the shock had destroyed her usual poise and he could feel her trembling as she clung to him. "My advice," he said quietly, "is that we all get to bed and have a wink of sleep. It has been a long and exciting day for us, hasn't it?" CHAPTER XIV ON THE BLUFF Sybil clapped her hands gleefully and looked at Orissa in triumph. "The rubber is mine!" she cried. "You now owe me sixteen boxes of chocolates, nine of caramels and twelve of mixed bonbons--enough to stock a candy store. Tell you what I'll do, Commodore Columbus; I'll pit my desert island and my man Friday against your fleet of galleys and the favor of Queen Isabella, and it shall be the best three out of five games. Are _you_ game, my dear Discoverer?" Orissa laughed. "You ought to give me odds, Crusoe, for you are the more skillful checker player," she replied. "But I won't play any more to-day. This heat is dreadfully oppressive and from the looks of the sky I'm afraid a storm is brewing." "What? A rain storm?" asked Sybil, jumping up to go outside the tent and examine the sky. "Rain, hail, thunder, lightning and tornadoes; anything is likely to follow a storm in this latitude," declared Orissa, following her. "I think, Sybil, we ought to make all as safe and secure as possible, in case of emergency, while we have the time." "What can we do?" asked Sybil. "I won't mind the storm very much, if it doesn't have lightning. That's the only thing I'm afraid of." Orissa examined the sky critically. "I predict high winds," she presently said, "and high winds might endanger our property. Let us get to the beach, first, and see what may be done to protect the Aircraft." They found the flying-machine fairly well protected by the walls of the ravine in which it lay, but as the big upper plane offered a tempting surface to the wind Orissa set to work and removed it, a task that consumed two full hours. Then she wired the framework to a big rock, for additional security, and carrying the canvas from the plane between them, the girls returned to their tent. "Will our house stand much of a wind?" asked Sybil. "It is rather exposed, on this bluff," replied Orissa, doubtfully. "I think it will be wise for us to pile more rocks upon the edges. The wire will hold, I'm sure, for it is nickel-steel, and if we close the ends of the tents securely we may escape damage." "All right; I'm glad to have something to do," cried Sybil, picking up a rock. "We'll build a regular parapet, if you say so." This was exactly what they did. In spite of the oppressive heat the two girls worked faithfully piling the rocks around the tent, until they had raised a parapet nearly half its height. They were inspired to take this precaution by the glowering aspect of the sky, which grew more threatening as the afternoon waned. Finally Orissa wiped the perspiration from her brow and exclaimed: "That'll do, I'm sure, Syb. And now I'm ready for dinner. What's to eat?" Sybil made a grimace. "Bananas and jelly," she replied. "Could you conceive a more horrible combination?" "Meat all gone?" "We've part of a baked crab; that's all." "And the lettuce. I shall have crab salad, with bananas for dessert." "A salad without lemon or vinegar is the limit," declared Sybil. "I shall stick to bananas and jelly." Their appetites were still good and Orissa really enjoyed her salad, which she seasoned with salt which they had obtained by evaporating seawater. The bananas were getting to be a trifle irksome to the palate, but as food they were nourishing and satisfying. Neither of the castaways grumbled much at the lack of ordinary food, being grateful at heart that they were able to escape starvation. The storm burst upon them just after dark and its violence increased hour by hour. There was little rain, and no lightning at all, but the wind held high revel and fluttered the canvas of the tent so powerfully that the girls, huddled anxiously in bed, feared the frail shelter would be torn to shreds. But the plane-cloth used by Stephen Kane was wonderfully strong and had been sized with a composition that prevented the wind from penetrating it. Therefore it resisted the gale nobly, and after a time the fears of the two girls subsided to such a degree that they dozed at times and toward morning, when the wind subsided, sank into deep sleep. The hooting of the owls no longer had power to keep them awake, and on this night the owls were less in evidence than usual, perhaps deterred from leaving their nests by the storm. Weather changes are abrupt in the semi-tropics. The morning dawned cool and delightful and the sun shone brilliantly. There was a slight breeze remaining, but not more than enough to flutter Orissa's locks as she unfastened the flap of the tent and walked out upon the bluff to discover if the Aircraft was still safe. It lay at the bottom of the ravine, in plain sight from where she stood, and seemed quite undisturbed. Orissa turned her eyes toward the distant island, let them sweep the tumbling waves of the ocean and finally allowed them to rest upon the bay at the east, where they had first landed. Then she uttered an involuntary cry that echoed shrilly among the crags. A ship lay stranded upon the shelving beach--fully half its length upon dry land! The cry aroused Sybil, who came running from the tent rubbing her eyes and with an anxious face. "What's up, Ris?" she demanded. Orissa pointed a trembling finger across the rock-strewn plain to the bay, and Sybil looked and gave a gasp of delight. "Oh, Orissa, we're saved--we're saved!" she murmured. Then, sinking upon the sand, she covered her face with her hands and began to cry. But the air-maid was too interested to weep; she was looking hard at the boat. "Isn't it Madeline Dentry's yacht?" she asked. "Yes; I'm sure it is. Then they've been searching for us and the storm has wrecked them. Sybil, your father and Steve may be on that ship, alive or--or----" Sybil sprang up. "Do you see anyone?" she asked eagerly. "No; it's too far away, and the sun interferes. I'll get the glasses." She was quite composed now and her quiet demeanor did much to restore Sybil's self-possession. Orissa brought the binoculars, looked through them for a time and then handed the glasses to her chum. "Not a soul in sight, that I can see," she remarked. "Try it yourself." Sybil had no better luck. "Can they all be drowned?" she inquired in horrified tones. "I think not. They may have abandoned the wreck, during the storm, or they may be hidden from us by the side of the boat, which lies keeled over in the opposite direction from us." "Can't we go there, Orissa, and find out?" "Yes, dear; at once. The tide is out, and although there is quite a sea left from last night's hurricane I think we can manage the trip, by way of the sands, with perfect safety." Each tore a couple of bananas from the bunch and then they ran down the incline to the beach. Knowing every turn in the coast and every difficult place, they were able to scorn the waves that occasionally swept over their feet, as if longing to draw them into their moist embraces. CHAPTER XV BOAT AHOY! The first indication of dawn found anxious faces peering over the side of the _Salvador_. Passengers and crew gathered at the lower angle and inspected the position of the boat with absolute amazement. "Never, in all my experience," said Captain Krell, "have I heard of so remarkable a wreck. We struck the only channel that would have floated us; a few yards to either side and we would have been crushed to kindling wood. As it is, we lie high and dry on this shelf--a natural dry dock--and not a timber is cracked." "Are you sure of that?" asked Madeline. "Quite sure, Miss Dentry. We have made a thorough investigation. But I do not wish to create any false hopes. Our condition is nearly as desperate as if we were a total wreck." "You mean we can't get the yacht off again?" "I fear not. Even a duplicate of that gigantic wave which hurled us here would be unable to float us off, for our tremendous headway carried us beyond the reach of any tide. This island is of rock formation. I know at a glance that a solid bed of rock is under us. Therefore we cannot dig a channel to relaunch the _Salvador_." "Couldn't we blast a channel?" asked Mr. Tupper. The captain merely gave him a reproachful glance. "To be sure," replied Chesty Todd, seriously. "We'll have Kane invent a sort of dynamite that will blast the rocks and won't hurt the ship. Good idea, Mr. Tupper. Clever, sir; very clever." Mr. Tupper glared at the boy resentfully, but his wife said in a mild tone of rebuke: "Really, Martin, my dear, the suggestion was idiotic." The steward came crawling toward them with a coffeepot, followed by a man juggling a tray of cups. It was quite an acrobatic feat to navigate the incline, but they succeeded and everyone accepted the coffee gratefully. "This place is nothing but a rock; an extinct volcano, probably," remarked Madeline, gazing thoughtfully over the island. Chesty, having finished his coffee, climbed to the elevated side opposite. "Here's a far better view of the place," he called. "It's quite a----" He stopped short, staring fixedly at a white speck far up on the bluff beside the low mountain. They waited breathlessly for him to continue. Then Steve, reading the expression on Chesty's face, quickly clambered to a place beside him. As he looked he began to tremble and his face grew red and then pallid. "Mr. Cumberford," called the press agent, "bring your glasses, please." "What is it?" pleaded Madeline. "Why, something--just--curious, Miss Dentry. We can't say what it is, as yet, but----" They were all scrambling up the incline by this time and soon all eyes were directed upon the white speck. Mr. Cumberford focused his glasses upon the spot. "Ah," said he presently; "this interests me; it does, indeed!" "Is it a--a--tent?" inquired Steve, a catch in his voice. "Looks like it," was the reply; "but not a regulation tent. Seems more like--like----Here, see for yourself, Steve." Steve seized the binoculars. "I think--it's--the--plane-cloth!" he gasped. Mr. Tupper lost his balance and slid down the deck, landing with a thud against the opposite rail. That relieved the tension and a laugh--the first heard on the _Salvador_ since she left port--greeted the gentleman's mishap. "Why--if it's the plane-cloth, the girls are alive!" cried Madeline. "To be sure," added Chesty, with joyful intonation, "and doubtless enjoying their outing." The discovery changed the current of all thoughts and led them to forget their own calamity. The _Salvador_ carried a small gasoline launch and two life-boats, all of which were in good condition. "May we take the launch, Miss Dentry?" pleaded Steve. "I was about to order it lowered," she said. "Can you run it, Mr. Kane?" "Certainly," he replied. "Then I shall go with you. It will carry six comfortably, and more uncomfortably; but as we may have passengers on our return trip only four had better go." Steve ran to assist in lowering the launch. It had to be unlashed from its rack, first of all, and the tank filled with gasoline, the engine oiled and the boat prepared for action. The men worked with a will, however, and within half an hour the launch was lowered to the rocks and slid safely into the water. The landing-steps being impracticable, a rope ladder was lowered and by this means Madeline easily descended to the launch. Mr. Cumberford followed, as a matter of course, but Chesty Todd modestly waited to be invited to make the fourth voyager. "Come along, sir," said Miss Dentry, and he eagerly obeyed. "How about food?" he suggested. The chef, a fat little Frenchman who was much interested in the fate of the Flying Girl and her chum, had foreseen this demand and now lowered a hamper. "Any water in it?" asked Chesty. "Certainmente, monsieur." "All right. Let 'er go." Steve started the engine and the little craft quickly shot out of the bay into the open sea and took the long swells beautifully. Bounding the point, Kane kept as close to the shore as he dared, making for the place where the bluff began to rise. "Boat ahoy!" cried a clear voice, so suddenly that they nearly capsized the launch in their first surprise. And there were the two lost damsels prancing and dancing up and down the beach, waving their handkerchiefs and laughing and crying with joy at beholding their friends. CHAPTER XVI AN ISLAND KINGDOM It was a merry reunion, in spite of the dangers that were past and the tribulations that threatened. Because the yacht's deck afforded precarious footing they all landed on the flat rocky shore, where the breakfast, hastily prepared by the chef, was served to the united company. "My greatest suffering," said Sybil, nestling close to her father, "was for want of coffee. I've dreamed of coffee night after night, and hoped I would be privileged to taste it again before I was called to the happy hunting grounds." "Ah; that interests me; it does, really," said Mr. Cumberford, filling her cup anew. "But--who knows, dear?--you might have reached the happy coffee-grounds." They laughed at any absurd remark just now, and when Orissa related how they had subsisted of late on bananas and jelly you may be sure the castaways were plied with all the delicacies the ship's larder afforded. Most of the day was spent in exchanging stories of the adventures both parties had encountered since the Hydro-Aircraft ran away. Everyone wanted to add an incident or tell some personal experience, and it was all so interesting that no one was denied the privilege of talking. But afterward, when an elaborate dinner was served in the cabin--the table having been propped level to hold the plates--they began to canvass the future and to speculate upon the possibility of getting to civilization again. "Our situation is far from hopeless," remarked Steve, who was now bright and cheery as of old. "We have the launch and the life-boats, and Orissa says the Aircraft is in fine condition again. All the trouble was caused by that unlucky aluminum chest--and the fact that my steering gear was too frail." "I wouldn't call the aluminum chest unlucky," said Sybil. "Without it we should have suffered many privations, for it carried our blankets and provisions as well as our tools." "But it was unfortunate that you didn't bolt it securely," added Orissa. "Could we venture some two hundred and eighty miles in open boats?" inquired Madeline. "We could if obliged to," asserted young Kane. "Of course, after we got into the track of coastwise ships, we might be picked up. But I do not like to abandon this beautiful yacht, which must be worth a fortune and is not damaged to any extent. I believe the best plan will be for me to fly home in my machine and secure a boat to come here and pull the yacht off the beach. There is a whole barrel of gasoline aboard, intended to supply the launch, so there is no longer any lack of fuel for our Aircraft." They canvassed this plan very seriously and to all it seemed an excellent idea. But the engineer, an Irishman named O'Reilly, respectfully suggested the possibility of getting the yacht launched by means of a tackle, using her own engines for power. Steve caught at this idea and said they would try it the following morning. Everyone retired early, for one and all were exhausted by the trying experiences they had passed through. The girls, however, warned them that the owls would interfere seriously with their sleep. It was not an easy matter to rest, even in the comfortable berths, on account of the slanting position of the ship. Those berths on the right side tipped downward and the mattresses had to be bolstered up on the edges to prevent the occupants from rolling out. On the opposite side the sleeper was pushed to the wall and the mattress had to be padded in the corner where the wall and bunk met. But they managed it, after a fashion, and Sybil and Orissa, at least, slept soundly and peacefully, the luxury of a bed being so great a relief from their former inconvenient rock "altar." The hoots of the owls proved very distracting to the newcomers, and Mrs. Tupper declared she would go mad, or die painfully, if obliged to endure such a screeching for many nights. Even the crew grumbled and there were many tired eyes next morning. As soon as breakfast was over they set to work to right the yacht, Steve overseeing the work because of his mechanical experience. A pulley was attached, by means of a chain, to a peak of rock on the point opposite the high side of the yacht, and then a strong cable was run through the pulley, one end being fastened to the mainmast and the other to the anchor-windlass, which was operated by the engine. The stoker got up steam and then O'Reilly started the engines very slowly. Lying as it did on a shelf of solid rock, which had been washed smooth by centuries of waves, there was only the resistance of the yacht's weight to overcome; and, although it required all the power the cable would stand, the boat gradually came upright until it stood upon a level keel. Then the men braced it securely with rocks, on either side the bow, to hold it in position, after which Steve declared that part of the task had been accomplished to his entire satisfaction. It was indeed a relief to all on board to be able to tread a level deck again, for, although there still remained a decided slant from bow to stern it did not materially interfere with walking, as had the sharp side slant. The next task was to arrange the tackle so that the engines would pull the yacht off the beach into deep water. But in spite of every effort this plan failed entirely. The boat would not budge an inch and after breaking the wire cable again and again, until it was practically useless, the undertaking had to be abandoned. "It's up to the airship to rescue the party, I guess," sighed Steve, as they sat at dinner after the energetic and discouraging day's work was over. "Do you know, there's a big island just west of here," said Orissa, thoughtfully. "Through our glasses we could see that it is green and fertile, and I've an idea it is inhabited. Wouldn't it be a good idea to run the launch over there before Steve undertakes his journey, and see if we can't secure help to get the yacht off the beach?" They all became interested in the proposition at once. "How far is the island?" asked Mr. Cumberford. "Only a few miles; perhaps an hour's run in the launch." "Then let us try it, by all means," proposed the captain. "We will run over there the first thing in the morning, with Miss Dentry's consent," decided Steve. Madeline heartily agreed and as the sea was enticingly calm the next morning a party was made up to visit the larger island in the launch. At first Captain Krell suggested he should go with part of his crew, saying that no one could tell what sort of people might inhabit the island, if indeed any inhabitants were to be found there; but Steve scorned the notion of danger. "We are too near the American coast to run against cannibals or hostile tribes," he argued; "and, in any event, our mission is a decidedly peaceful one. I'll take my revolver, of course, but it won't be needed. What do you say, Mr. Cumberford?" "I quite agree with you," replied that gentleman. "I'm going along, if only for the ride." "So am I," said Madeline. "Really, my dear!" began Mr. Tupper; but she silenced him with a single look. "That means I must go as chaperon," sighed Mrs. Tupper. "I'll be chaperon," laughed Sybil; "but as we shall go and return in a couple of hours I don't believe Madeline will really need one." "You shall stay comfortably on the yacht, Aunt Anna," said Madeline. "Who else wants to go? We can carry six, you know." It was soon arranged to add Mr. Radley-Todd and Orissa to the four, thus completing the complement of the launch. Just before they set off Monsieur Rissette, the alert chef, appeared with his hamper of lunch, for he had an established idea that no one should depart, even on an hour's journey, without a proper supply of food. Then, merrily waving adieus to those on board, the explorers glided out of the bay into the open sea. Rounding the north end of their islet they saw clearly the large island ahead, and Steve headed the launch directly toward it. The trip consumed rather more than the hour Orissa had figured on, but it was a light-hearted, joyous party, and they beguiled the way with conversation and laughter. "I am quite sure," said Madeline, "that I am enjoying this experience far more than I would a trip to Hawaii. Think of it! A chase, a rescue and a wreck, all included in one adventure. I'm rather sorry it's about over and we are to return to civilization." "Sybil and I have had a glorious time," added Orissa. "Barring the fact that we were a bit worried over our fate, those days when we played Crusoe and Columbus on a forsaken island were full of interest and excitement. I know now that I enjoyed it thoroughly." "I quite envy you that delightful experience," asserted Madeline. "Don't," said Sybil. "The adventure wasn't all pleasant, by any means. The hoots of those dreadful birds will ring in my ears for years to come; the food was far from satisfying and I piled rocks and tramped and sweated until I was worn to a frazzle. If we had not invented our checker set I believe we would have become raving maniacs by the time you found us." As they drew near to the island they found it even more green and beautiful than they had suspected. "It's queer," said Steve, eyeing the place thoughtfully, "how very imperfect those seamen's charts are. The one Captain Krell has indicates nothing but barren rocks in these seas. Not one is deemed important enough to name; yet here is a good-sized island that is really inviting enough to attract inhabitants." "And, by Jove, it has 'em!" cried Chesty Todd, pointing eagerly to a thin streak leading skyward. "See that smoke? That means human beings, or I'm a lobster." "Good!" exclaimed Mr. Cumberford. "That interests me; it does, really. Head around to the right, Steve; that's where we'll find the natives." Steve obeyed. Skirting the shore of the island he rounded the northern point and found before him a peculiar inlet. The shore was rocky and rather high, but in one place two great pillars of rock rose some fifty feet in the air, while between them lay a pretty bay which extended far inland. They afterward found this was the mouth of a small river, which broadened into a bay at its outlet. As the launch turned into this stretch of water, moving at reduced speed, their eyes were gladdened by one of the loveliest natural vistas they had ever beheld. The slope from the table-land above to the inlet was covered upon both sides with palms, flowering shrubs and fruit trees, all of which showed evidence of care. A quarter of a mile up the little bay was a little dock to which were moored several boats. The largest of these was a sixty-foot launch, which made Madeline's little craft look like a baby. Two sailboats and a trio of rowboats, all rather crude in design, completed the flotilla. On the end of the dock two men stood, motionless, as if awaiting them. "Why, they're not natives at all," exclaimed Sybil, in a low voice. "They--they're clothed!" So they were, but in quite a remarkable fashion. Their feet were bare, their trousers ragged and soiled; but they wore blue vests highly embroidered in yellow silk, with velvet jackets and red sashes tied around their waists. Add to this outfit, peaked Panama hats with broad, curling brims, and a revolver and knife stuck in each sash, and you will not wonder that our friends viewed this odd couple with unfeigned amazement. One was a tall, thin man with but one good eye, which, however, was black and of piercing character. His face was sullen and reserved. The second man was short and fat, with profuse whiskers of fiery red and a perfectly bald head--a combination that gave him the appearance of a stage comedian. The skin of both was of that peculiar dingy brown color peculiar to Mexicans and some Spaniards. The little one, with hat in hand, was bowing with exaggerated courtesy; the taller one stood frowning and immovable. When Steve steered the launch alongside the dock a broad roadway came into sight, leading through the trees to the higher elevation beyond, where stood a white house of fair size which had a veranda in front. The architecture was of Spanish order and in its setting of vines and trees it looked very picturesque. There were climbing roses in profusion and gorgeous beds of flowers could be seen in the foreground. Despite the appearance of the two men, who might easily be taken for brigands, the place was so pretty and peaceful and bore such undoubted evidences of civilization that the visitors had no hesitation in landing. Chesty leaped to the dock first and assisted the three girls to alight beside him. Mr. Cumberford followed and Steve tied up to an iron ring in the dock and also stepped ashore. The tall man had not moved, so far, except that his one dark eye roved from one member of the party to another, but the little fat man continued to bow low as each one stepped ashore, and they accepted it as a sort of welcome. Neither had uttered a word, however, so Mr. Cumberford stepped forward and said: "Do you speak English?" They shook their heads. "Ah! that is unfortunate. Can you tell me, then, the name of this island, and who inhabits it?" "Of course not, Daddy," cried Sybil. "Try 'em in Spanish, Steve." But before Stephen, who could speak a little Spanish, had time to advance, the men turned abruptly, beckoned the strangers to follow, and deliberately walked up the broad pathway toward the dwelling. "Well?" inquired Steve, doubtfully. "Let's follow," said Chesty. "I've an idea these are hired men, and they're taking us to be welcomed by their master." "Interesting, isn't it?" muttered Mr. Cumberford, but with one accord they moved forward in the wake of their guides. CHAPTER XVII DON MIGUEL, DEL BORGITIS Halfway up the road they noticed on the left a large clearing, in which stood a group of thatched huts. Some women and children--all with dark skins and poorly dressed--were lounging around the doorways. These stood silently as the strangers passed by. A little farther along three men, attired in exactly the same manner as the two who were escorting them, were cultivating a garden patch. They gave no indication they were aware of the presence of strangers. There was something uncanny--wholly unnatural--about the manner of their reception and even about the place itself, that caused some of them to harbor forebodings that all was not right. Yet they had experienced no opposition, so far--no unfriendliness whatsoever. Up to the broad veranda they were led, and this, now viewed closely, showed signs of considerable neglect. The house, built of rough boards, needed whitewashing again; the elaborate stained-glass windows were thick with dust; the furnishings of the wide veranda, which were somewhat prodigal, seemed weather-stained and unkempt. On a small wicker table was a dirty siphon bottle and some soiled glasses with bugs and flies crawling over them. Beside these stood a tray of roughly made cheroots. The fat man at once disappeared through the open doorway of the dwelling, but the tall man faced the strangers and, spreading out his arms as if to forbid their entrance, pointed to the chairs and benches scattered in profusion about the veranda. "Invited to sit," interpreted Mr. Cumberford. "Interesting--very." Suddenly a huge form filled the doorway, inspecting the newcomers with a quick, comprehensive glance. The man was nearly as tall as Chesty Todd, but not so well built. Instead of being athletic, he possessed a superabundance of avoirdupois, evidently the result of high living. He was clothed all in white flannel, but wore a blue linen shirt with a soiled collar and a glaring red necktie in which glittered a big diamond. Jewels were on his fingers, too, and even on his thumbs, and a gold chain passed around his neck fell in folds across his breast and finally ended in his watch-pocket. On his feet were red slippers and on his head a sombrero such as the others had worn. A man of perhaps thirty-five years of age, rather handsome with his large eyes and carefully curled mustache, but so wholly unconventional as to excite wonder rather than admiration. [Illustration: Suddenly a huge form filled the doorway, inspecting the newcomers with a quick, comprehensive glance.] He had merely paused in the doorway for that one rapid glance. Immediately he advanced with a brisk step, exclaiming: "Welcome, señors and señoritas--Americaños all--most joyous welcome. You the Spanish speak? No! It cannot matter, for I speak the English. I am so pleasured that my humble home is now honored by your presence. You make me glad--happy--in rapture. You do not know to where--to whom--you have come? Imagine! I am Don Miguel del Borgitis, and this"--extending his arms with a proud gesture--"my own Island of Borgitis--a kingdom--of individual property, however small, for it owes allegiance to no other nation on earth!" This was spoken very impressively, while the shrewd eyes read their faces to determine the degree of awe created. "Yes," he went on, giving them no chance to reply, "I am really King--King of Borgitis--but with modesty I call myself Don Miguel del Borgitis. As such I welcome you. As such I take you to my arms in friendship. Observe, then, all my kingdom is yours; you shall reign in my place; you shall command me; for does not Don Miguel ever place his friends above himself?" This seemed cordial enough, certainly, but it was rather embarrassing to find an answer to such effusiveness. Don Miguel, however, did not seem to expect an answer. With merely an impressive pause, as if to drive the words home, he continued: "May I, then, be honored by a recital of your names and station?" "To be sure," said Mr. Cumberford. "You--er--interest me, Don Miguel; you do, really. Quite a relief, you see, to find a gentleman, a civilized gentleman, in these wilds, and----" "My island kingdom is very grand--very important--Señor Americaño," interrupted Don Miguel, evidently piqued at the use of the term "wilds." "In effect have I reign over three islands--the one from which you now come, the one to the west of here, and--the Grand Island Borgitis! Three Islands and one owner--One King--with privilege to decree life and death to his devoted subjects. But you have more to say." They were a bit startled to hear that he knew they came from the island of the owls. But they reflected that some of his people might have watched the progress of their launch. Mr. Cumberford introduced his party to Don Miguel, one by one, afterward briefly relating the aërial trip of the two girls, the search for them by the yacht and the unfortunate beaching of the _Salvador_ on the island during the recent storm, ending with the surprising reunion of the party and their desire to secure help to get the launch into deep water again, that they might return home. To all this Don Miguel listened intently, his head a little to one side, his eyes turning critically to each person mentioned during the recital. Then said he, more soberly than before: "How unfortunate that your ship is wreck!" "Oh, it is not wrecked," returned Madeline. "It is merely stuck on those rocks--'beached' is, I think, the proper word." "Then, alas! it is wreck." "It is not injured in the least, sir," declared Steve. Don Miguel's face brightened at this statement, but he controlled his elation and responded sadly: "But it is no longer a ship, for you cannot get it off the land." "Not without your kind assistance, I fear," said Miss Dentry. "Make me obliged by resuming your seats," requested Don Miguel. Then he clapped his hands, and the red-bearded man appeared. "Refreshments, Pietro!" He offered the cheroots to the men, and when they refused selected one for himself and lighted it. Then, leaning back in his arm-chair, he regarded his guests musingly and said: "It is laughable. Really, it amuses one! But under the Spanish Grant by which I hold my islands--my kingdom--I am exclusively owner of all wrecks on my shores. In fact, were you not my dear friends, I could take your yacht, which I now own because it lies wreck on my coast." "But it is _not_ wrecked!" asserted Steve, frowning, for he was beginning to suspect Don Miguel. "Perhaps not, since you tell me so; but I will see. I will see for myself. Ah, the poor refreshments--the offering of hospitality to a king's friends. Partake, is my earnest implore, and so honor your humble host--Don Miguel del Borgitis." The tall man and the short man brought wines, liquors and glasses, with a fresh siphon of clear water. Following them came a sour-faced woman of middle age and a pretty young girl of perhaps sixteen years--pretty in the Spanish fashion, with plump cheeks, languid dark eyes and raven hair. These last carried trays of fruits and cake, which they passed to the company. The woman's face was expressionless; that of the girl evinced eager curiosity and interest; but neither spoke nor seemed to receive the notice of the royal Don Miguel. When they had all positively refused to accept any of the strong drink, the Don helped himself liberally to a milky liquor diluted with water, which he called pulque. As he sipped this he said to them: "The life here on Borgitis is grand--magnificent--entrancing--as you will easily conceive. But it is also lonely. I have here no equals with whom I may freely associate. So it delights me to receive you as guests. May you long enjoy my hospitality--it is a toast which I drink with fervency." "We return to the yacht at once," said Steve, stiffly. "My mansion is roomy and comforting," continued the other, as if he had not heard, "and here are no owls to annoy one. Some day I will take you to visit the third island of my kingdom. It is called Chica--after my daughter, here." He glanced at the young girl, as he spoke, and she cast down her eyes, seeming frightened. Mr. Cumberford arose. "Sir," said he, "we thank you for your hospitality, which we regret we are unable to further accept. Let us come to the point of our errand. We need your assistance and are willing to pay for it--liberally, if need be. You have plenty of men here, I observe, and a large launch. Send a crew with us to our island----" "My island, señor, if you please." "Very well. Send a crew of men to help us, and come along yourself, if you like. But whatever you do, kindly do it at once, as we have no time to waste." He spoke positively, in a way that required an answer; but Don Miguel merely took a cake from the tray, and as he munched it said casually in Spanish, as if addressing the air: "Prepare my launch; have the men in readiness; lock the little boat securely." Without a glance at his master, the one-eyed man deliberately left the veranda and walked down the path. Steve pricked up his ears. He understood the carefully veiled command, and it nettled him. "What little boat do you refer to, sir?" he pointedly asked. Don Miguel gave a start, but tossed off the contents of his glass, and rose. "I shall prepare to go at once to visit your yacht, with my own men and in my own launch," said he. "You will be good enough to amuse yourselves here until I send you the word that I am ready to depart." With this he lazily stretched his big body, yawned, and turned his back on his "beloved guests," to leave the veranda and proceed leisurely down the path to the inlet. CHAPTER XVIII THE MASK OFF "Come!" cried Steve, impatiently. "The Don is either a fool or a rascal, and in either event I propose to keep an eye on him." "Quite right," said Chesty Todd, nodding approval. As with one accord they rose and started to leave the veranda the fat little man with the red whiskers barred their way, removing his hat to indulge in his absurd bow. "My noble master has desire that you remain his guests," said he in bad English. "Some time will he send word he is ready for you to depart." "Out of the way, fellow," said Chesty, pushing him aside. "My noble master has desire that you remain his guests," repeated the man, moodily, and there was a defiant twinkle in his pig-like eyes that indicated he had received positive orders to detain the strangers. But Mr. Radley-Todd's ire was aroused. "Stand back!" he cried threateningly. "Your master is not our master." "Very true, Chesty," said Mr. Cumberford; and then they all hurried down the path toward the inlet. They were not three minutes behind Don Miguel, yet as they reached the dock the big launch left it, filled with dark-skinned men. In the stern stood Don Miguel, smoking his cheroot, and he made them an elaborate bow. "Have patience, dear guests," said he. "I will satisfy myself if your boat is wreck or is not wreck, and soon will I return to consult with you. Kindly excuse until I have investigation made. Oblige me to use my island as if it were your own." "The rascal!" cried Mr. Cumberford, as the boat of Don Miguel swept down the inlet. "Tumble into the launch, girls, quick! I believe we can get to the yacht before he does." But the girls hesitated to obey, for Steve and Chesty Todd were bending over the bow of the launch, where the rope hawser had been replaced by a heavy chain, which was fastened by a huge padlock. Steve picked up an iron bar, twisted it in the chain and endeavored to wrench the iron ring from its socket; but it was firmly embedded in the dock, being held by a powerful cement. Then he tried breaking away the launch, but the fastenings held firmly. "No use, Steve," said Chesty, squatting down on the dock. "We must have the key. Question is, who's got it? That pirate, or--or----" "He's a pirate, all right," said Sybil, angrily. "What do you think he intends to do?" Madeline quietly asked. "Take the folks on the yacht by surprise, capture the ship and then claim it is his, because it is beached upon his island," replied Steve. "How absurd!" exclaimed Orissa. "Yes; but the scoundrel knows no law," declared Mr. Cumberford. "In this lost and forgotten island he has played the tyrant with a high hand; I can see that by the humble subjection of his people; and so he thinks he can rob us with impunity." "He is mistaken, though," asserted Madeline greatly annoyed. "If this is really an independent island, I shall send an armed ship here to demand reparation--and force it. If the Don lies, and he is under the domain of any recognized nation, then our government shall take the matter up." "To be sure," said Mr. Cumberford. "Interesting; very. Provided, of course, we--we----" "Go on, sir." "Er--er--it is really a pretty island, and--interesting," he mumbled. "Daddy means," said Sybil, "that Don Miguel has no intention of letting us get back to civilization again, provided the yacht proves to be worth taking--and keeping." "That's it, exactly," said Chesty; "only Mr. Cumberford did not like to disturb your equanimity. But he sized up the situation, as we all did. Eh, Steve?" Steve nodded, looking gloomily at the three girls. "How many men did he take with him?" asked Madeline. "About fifteen. I tried to count 'em," said Mr. Todd. "But they did not seem to be armed." "There are seven on the yacht, besides Mr. Tupper, who doesn't count; and they have no arms, either, that I know of." "They won't be expecting to defend themselves, anyhow," observed Chesty. "Therefore the yacht is as good as captured." "And with the noble Don in possession," added Sybil, "our plans for a homeward voyage are knocked sky-high." "The yacht will be a great find for him," remarked Mr. Cumberford; "so I imagine he will condemn it as 'wreck' on his shores and keep it for himself." "With certainty, señor," said a soft voice beside him. They all turned to find that the Spanish girl had quietly joined their group. Behind her came limping the Red-beard, sullen and muttering at his rebuff. The girl faced Pietro and uttered a sharp command in Spanish. He hesitated, mumbled a reply and retreated up the path. "So you think Don Miguel will keep my yacht?" asked Madeline, approaching the pretty child and speaking in a kindly tone. "I do, señorita. But his name is not Don Miguel del Borgitis, as he said. He is Ramon Ganza, a fugitive from Mexico, where he robbed a bank of much money and escaped. He came here in his launch with ten men, and has been hiding for many years in this island, where no people lived before he came." "Dear me!" exclaimed Madeline; "a criminal and a refugee! And you are his daughter?" "No, señorita. He said so, but he lied. He lies always, when he speaks. He coaxed me away from my people in Mazatlan, when he came there to buy provisions, saying I would become a princess. But I am merely a housemaid, in truth." "How many years has he lived on this island?" inquired Mr. Cumberford. "I do not know, señor. But it is many. He has built the house, yonder, or rather he has forced his poor men to build it. Ramon loves to pose as a royal Don, but I do not think he is of noble birth. Once every year he goes to Mexico or the United States for supplies, and sometimes he coaxes others to come back with him, and be his slaves." "And do the people love their master?" asked Madeline. "No. They hate him, but they fear him. Not one who has ever come here has gone away again, for he dares not let them return to tell where he is hiding. Now there are seventeen men and nine women here. With you, and those he will fetch from your yacht, there will be many more; but none of you will ever leave here with Ramon's consent," declared the girl. "Then we will leave without it," remarked Mr. Todd, easily. She gave him a quick, eager look. "Will you dare to oppose Ramon, then?" she asked. "On occasion we are rather daring," said Chesty, smiling at her simplicity. "The fellow ought to be arrested and given up to justice." "Oh, if you would do that, we could all go away!" said the child, clasping her hands ecstatically. "Please arrest him, sir; I beg you to." "We'll see about it, little one. Meantime, how can we get the key to unlock this chain?" "Would you follow Ramon?" she asked. "That is our greatest ambition, just now." "Then I'll get you the key. Pietro has it." "The Red-beard?" "Yes. Pietro is my friend. He is not so bad as some of the other men." "They must be a sorry lot," decided Chesty. "Come on, then, Chica; I'll help you to interview Pietro." The man was sitting on a rock nursing his grievances. "The key, Pietro," said Chica. "No," he answered surlily. "I want it, Pietro." "He'll whip me. But then, he'll whip me anyhow, for not to stop his 'guests.' Take the key, Chica. Pah! a few lashes. Who care?" He tossed the key upon the ground at her feet and Chesty promptly picked it up. The girl looked hard at Red-beard. "You will not be whipped," she said softly. "It is all right, Pietro. The Americaños will arrest Ramon Ganza and deliver him up to justice; they have promised it; so you will be safe. Come with me. Our new friends need guns." "What!" The man fairly gasped in his amazement at her temerity. "Our new friends shall take all they need of Ramon's store of guns. They are not like the others who come here; the Americaños are not cowards. You will see them conquer Ramon very nicely, and with no trouble at all. Come, Pietro--the guns!" The man slowly rose and led the way to the house, while Chesty called for Steve and then followed. In ten minutes Chesty and Steve returned to the dock where the others awaited them, and both were loaded with rifles, revolvers and ammunition, ruthlessly abstracted from the private stores of the island magnate. When these were distributed, the launch unlocked and they were ready to start, Madeline turned to Chica. "Get in, dear," said she. "I think it will be best for you to come with us. Provided we ourselves manage to escape, I promise to take you to Mazatlan and restore you to your own people." The child hesitated, looking at the little fat Red-beard. "I--I'm afraid Pietro will suffer for helping us," she said. "Ah; 'tis true," agreed Red-beard. "Unless you please will arrest Ramon, Ramon will whip me until I faint. I know; it is his habit when he is opposed." "Get aboard, then," said Steve, impatiently. "There's room enough, and your service may come handy to us." Somewhat to their surprise the man came aboard without an instant's hesitation, and at once Steve started the engine. "Are any other men left upon this island?" asked Mr. Cumberford, as the launch gathered way and darted down the inlet. "Two," said Chica. "But they have no orders to interfere with you, so they will be blind. Fourteen have gone with Ramon." "Are they armed?" asked Orissa. "I do not know, señorita. Francisco may be, and perhaps Tomas; but Ramon is afraid to trust many of his men with guns." Heading out of the inlet they rounded the pillar of rock and skirted the shore until the open sea lay between them and Owl Island. Now they were able to see plainly the big launch of Ramon Ganza plodding along in advance. It had fully half an hour's start of them, yet from the distance it had gone Steve awoke to the fact that it was not nearly so speedy as Madeline's little boat. Although the big launch had gasoline engines of comparatively modern pattern, the lines of the boat were broad and "tubby," in strong contrast with the slender, graceful waist of the _Salvador's_ launch. Moreover, Ramon had neglected his machinery, as he had everything else on the island, and the engines did not work as well as they should. "I've an idea that I can beat the pirate to the _Salvador_," said Steve. "By Jove!" cried Chesty; "if you could do that, old man, you'd save the day." "What difference would it make?" inquired Madeline. "Their plan is to take our crew by surprise, board the yacht and make prisoners of every man jack--also of Mrs. Tupper," explained Chesty. "Then, when we arrive, our capture could be easily accomplished. But if we manage to get there first, warning our men and taking them these weapons, we stand a good chance of beating off the rascally potentate and holding possession." "They are not really pirates, I suppose," remarked Sybil. "According to this child's story," declared Mr. Cumberford, "the man is a fugitive from justice and so has no respect for the rights or property of anyone. Mexico, his own country, has outlawed him and doubtless if the authorities could put their hands on the fellow they'd clap him in jail and keep him there." They considered this statement gravely. "For which reason," remarked Chesty Todd, "Ramon Ganza is desperate. He can't afford to let us get away and carry the news of where his island retreat may be located. Therefore, good people, this is going to be a lively little scrap, so let's grit our teeth and do our level best." CHAPTER XIX AN EXCITING RACE Steve was giving the engine all his attention and coaxing it to develop all the speed of which it was capable. Even with eight people aboard--two more than its regular complement--it was beginning to gain on the big boat ahead. Orissa, at the steering wheel, was also intent upon her task. Mr. Cumberford turned to Chica. "How did Ramon manage to build that house, and make such a big settlement on the island, all in secret?" he asked. "Pietro knows," said she. "In Mexico," stated Red-beard, halting at times in his English, "Ramon rob bank of much money. Then he escape in boat an' find islan'. He think it fine place for hide. So he go to Unite' State--to San Pedro--an' buy much thing with his money--much lumber--much food in tin can--many thing he will need. He hire ship to take all to his islan'. It big sail-ship, but it old an' not ver' good. In San Pedro Ramon find some Mexicans who do bad things an' so are afraid to go back to Mexico. He say he make them rich, so they go with him on ship. I go, too. "Storm come an' make ship leak, but we get to islan' an' unload ever'thing. Captain start to go back, but ship leak so bad he run on rocks at West Islan'. Ship go wreck an' men drown. By'mby Ramon go out to wreck, take all thing he want an' let wreck go. It now on rocks at West Islan'. No good, now." This terse recital was listened to with astonishment. "Interesting--very," was Mr. Cumberford's comment, and they all supported his verdict. "Then Ramon make us build house an' make garden," continued Red-beard. "When we get mad an' not mind Ramon, he whip some of us with his own hand, an' then others scare an' work hard. Two, three time, Ramon go in launch to Mexico. He land secret, in night time, and get more men to come back with him to islan'. Nobody know him in the places he goes. One time he coax Chica from her nice home, that way, an' bring her to islan', to make her help the women work in his house." Chica nodded. "But now I go home," she said, confidently. "When kind Americaños arrest Ramon, I go free." But arresting Ramon was not so much in the thoughts of the Americaños just then as the result of the race to reach the _Salvador_. Madeline's launch was gaining steadily, but both boats were gradually drawing nearer to their destination and the problem was which could arrive first? Already the little boat had been seen and its purpose understood by the wily Mexican. He could not know how it was that the Americans had managed to secure their boat and were able to follow him so soon, but the fact that they were in his wake and quickly closing the gap between the two launches was sufficient information for the time being, and it did not particularly disturb him. Ramon Ganza reasoned that in order to beat him to the yacht the little launch must pass near him, but in doing so he would intercept it and by grappling it with boat-hooks take it and its occupants along with him. If the Americans kept out of range and gave his boat a wide berth, he would be able, in spite of their superior speed, to beat them to the yacht by maintaining his course in a straight line. This danger was soon appreciated by the pursuers; for, whenever they altered their course, Ganza altered his, to head them off by getting directly in their way. "Ah," said Mr. Cumberford, grimly, "this interests me." "It interests us all," observed Steve, dryly. "The big boat is like a rock in our path." Orissa looked at her brother inquiringly. "How shall I steer?" she asked. "We shall have to circle around them, to keep out of their way. They think that they will beat us, and they may; but I'm not sure of it--as yet." "Is it best to argue the point, Steve?" asked Chesty. "I really think our salvation depends on our getting to the yacht first," was the reply. For some time after this no one spoke. The engine, under Steve's skillful handling, was doing its utmost, with never a skip or protest of any sort. The man who was running the larger boat was also crowding his engines, urged thereto by his domineering master. The sea was ideal for the race and favored both boats alike. They continued the dodging tactics some time longer, the smaller boat being forced to the outside and unable to cut in ahead. "Confound it!" cried Steve, much chagrined, "here's the island, and they've got the inside track." "Yes; but something's wrong with them," remarked Mr. Cumberford. "They're slowing down." "By Jove, that's a fact!" cried Chesty, elated. Steve stood up and shaded his eyes with his hand. "Their engines have stopped," he said. "That's a streak of luck I hadn't banked on. Head in, Orissa. We're all right now, if they don't start again promptly." There was evident excitement on board the larger motor boat. Ramon kicked the new engineer away and himself took his place. The engine revolved, made a brief spurt--and stopped dead. Ramon made another attempt, while his boat bobbed placidly up and down on the waves. Meantime the launch, still keeping to its wide circle, rounded the point of rock and headed into the bay, where the _Salvador_ lay with her trim white sides glistening in the sunshine. "Quick!" cried Steve, as soon as he could be heard by those at the rail, "let down the ladder. They're after us!" "Who is it?" demanded Mr. Tupper, curiously; but Captain Krell marked the panic on the faces of those on board the launch and issued prompt orders. The aft davits were run down in a jiffy and Steve and Chesty hooked them to the launch, which was quickly raised with all on board and swung over the rail to the deck. There were a few tumbles and some scrambling to get out of the boat, but at that moment Ramon Ganza's big launch swept into the bay, and the Mexican, assured by one sharp glance that his clever plan to surprise the yacht was thwarted, shut down the engines and halted his craft while he examined the situation at his leisure. Madeline Dentry's superb yacht was indeed a prize worth winning. It was even worth running some risks to acquire. Ramon reflected that the _Salvador_ and her helpless crew were really at his mercy, for they were unable to float the ship and were at present securely imprisoned. He laughed rather maliciously at their vain opposition, and said to his lieutenant, the one-eyed man: "Very good, Francisco. Everything comes my way, you see. A little patience and the beautiful ship is ours, for it surely is wreck, and I justly claim all wrecks on my islands. There will be rum aboard, or at least plenty of liquors and wines. Champagne, perhaps. You shall have all the spirits for your drink if you back me up firmly in my demands." "What will you do, señor?" "Insist on taking possession of the ship, which, according to my law, is mine," he answered, with grim humor. "Perhaps they may object, in which case you will stand by your chief. But understand: you must use no knives or pistols; I can't afford to have murder added to the charges against me. If diplomacy fails, we will fight with our bare fists, in American fashion, and our numbers will suffice to conquer those insolent strangers who come here uninvited and then refuse to abide by my laws." He took from his pocket a note-book and with a fountain pen wrote upon one of the leaves as follows: "To my beloved Friends, the Americaños: Alas, your ship is hopeless wreck. I, the lord and ruler of these islands, behold the sad condition and with grief, for I must condemn the ship as wreck, which I do by right of Spanish Grant to me, from which is no appeal. With pain for your loss, I am obligated to confiscate the ship that before was yours, with all it contains, and to declare it is now mine. I demand that you deliver my property into my hands at once, in the name of law and justice, and I believe you will do so, because otherwise you will become the enemies of the kingdom of DON MIGUEL DEL BORGITIS, Rex." He tore out this leaf, folded it neatly and then boldly ran his launch to the side of the yacht. Francisco stuck the paper on the point of a boat-hook and standing on a seat thrust the epistle so far up the side that Captain Krell was able to lean over and grasp it. Then the launch returned to its former position, while the captain carried the note to Madeline. She read it aloud and their anxiety did not prevent the Americans from laughing heartily at the preposterous claim of this audacious Mexican refugee. "At the same time," said Miss Dentry, resuming her gravity, "our case appears to be somewhat serious. The man has unmasked and shown us clearly his intentions. He believes we can expect no succor from outside, and in that he is quite correct. Only by our own efforts and the exercise of our wits may we hope to circumvent his intentions and retain our freedom and our property." CHAPTER XX BESIEGED Disregarding the lordly disposal of the yacht and its contents so coolly outlined by Señor Ramon Ganza, those aboard the _Salvador_ began to face the probability of a siege. They all gathered aft, where, shielded by the bulwarks from the view of the Mexicans, they could converse at leisure and with safety. At Madeline's suggestion, every member of the crew, seven in number, was present while the details of their visit to the larger island were related by his principals. The character of the lordly islander, and his history as gleaned from Pietro and Chica, were likewise canvassed, and his evident intention to add the strangers to his band of cowed subjects was impressed upon the entire company in a most forcible manner. "It would have been serious, indeed," continued Madeline, "had Ganza arrived here before us and found you unwarned and unarmed, for you could not have resisted his invasion. But his clever scheme was frustrated by an accident to the engines of his launch, and now we must bend our every energy to driving him away and making our escape from this dreadful island." "We don't know yet, of course, how that can be done," added Mr. Radley-Todd, reflectively; "but there's no hurry about deciding it. We are pretty well provisioned for a siege, and Steve and I captured from the enemy and brought with us nine rifles, half a dozen revolvers, and some ammunition." "We have also a small supply of arms and ammunition in the storeroom of the yacht," said Captain Krell. "The former owner was something of a sportsman, and I think you will find the guns to be shotguns." "All the better," said Chesty. "These fellows may decide to board us, in which case the shotguns, at short range, will scatter their loads and do fearful execution. Get 'em up, Captain. Let's have on deck, where it's handy, every offensive and defensive weapon aboard." "I don't want any shooting," protested Madeline; "I'd rather give them the yacht." "We won't need to shoot," returned Steve. "A big bluff is all that is necessary." The entire company now understood the importance of a successful resistance, and aside from the fact that Mrs. Tupper had violent hysterics, which lasted several hours and nearly caused her devoted husband to jump overboard, the situation was accepted by all with philosophical composure. A definite plan to guard the deck and prevent the foe from scaling the sides was adopted and each man given his position and instructed what to do. As they were dealing with a desperate and unscrupulous man, a self-constituted autocrat in this practically unknown group of islands, they realized the wisdom of being constantly alert; so all the men, passengers and crew alike, were divided into watches during every hour of day and night, and those not on duty slept in their clothing that they might respond instantly to any call to action. The Mexican, however, proceeded very deliberately with the siege, believing his victims were trapped and unable to escape him. He withdrew for a time around the rocky point, where he disembarked ten of his fourteen men. With the other four he ran the launch to the mouth of the bay again and dropped anchor, evidently intending to block any egress by the boats of the yacht. That night, under cover of the darkness, for the moon was often obscured by shifting clouds, Ramon's men deployed among the rocks on both sides of the narrow channel, where they erected two miniature forts, or lookouts, by piling up the loose rocks. Behind each rock barrier some of the men were stationed, with instructions to watch every movement on the deck of the _Salvador_ and report to their master. The Mexicans were well protected by the rocks from the firearms of those on board, if the defenders resorted to their use, and because of the slant of the deck from fore to aft Ramon could himself command almost the entire deck as he sat in his launch. Realizing this disadvantage, Radley-Todd and O'Reilly, the engineer, crept down to the stern and by pushing the ends of their rifles through the hawser-holes were able to bring the launch under such direct fire that the outlaw decided that discretion was the better part of valor and withdrew his boat to a safer anchorage around the point, where he might still intercept the passage of any boat that ventured to come out. The next morning Francisco of the one eye and a comrade took the launch back to the other island for a store of provisions. When they returned, at noon, they brought the two men who had been left behind when the first expedition set out, and also one of the rowboats, which was allowed to trail behind the launch. With the Americans surrounded and on the defensive Ramon felt that he could safely remove his entire force from his home island and leave the place to the keeping of the women. If it came to a fight he would need every man he had. On that first day those on the yacht were alert and excited, but the marked composure on the part of their besiegers gradually quieted their fears of immediate violence. The decks were not really dangerous, although constantly under the observation of the men in the rock fortresses, so they ventured to use them freely. At one time, when Chesty Todd made a feint of landing on the shore, a group of Mexicans quickly gathered to prevent his leaving the ship, thus demonstrating their open enmity. "This won't do!" declared Steve, savagely, as he faced the company assembled around the cabin table that evening. "Those infernal bandits mean to keep us here till doomsday--or until we go crazy and surrender. They'll make our lives miserable unless we dislodge them from those rocks." "I prefer them there to having them attempt to scale the sides of our ship," returned Chesty. "A hand-to-hand fight would be far more serious." "Interesting, isn't it?" said Mr. Cumberford. "I don't think they care for a hand-to-hand fight," observed the captain. "Such fellows as this Ramon Ganza are always cowards." "I don't know about that," said Madeline. "He has faced all the men he brought here and in spite of their numbers and their hatred of him has cowed them, every one, single-handed." "Ramon is not a coward," the child Chica declared very positively. "He is bad; yes. But not a coward." "He has sixteen men--with himself, seventeen--and we have but eleven," said Steve. "However, the advantage is with us, because the yacht is a fort." "You spoke a moment ago of dislodging them," remarked Radley-Todd. "Can't we manage to do that, Steve?" "How?" "If we could make some bombs," suggested the press-agent, slowly, "and hurl them among those rocks, I've an idea we could drive them away." Steve was thoughtful a moment. "We'd need nitro-glycerine for that," said he. "I suppose there's none aboard, Captain Krell?" The captain shook his head. "Plenty nitro-glycerine at big islan'," announced Pietro. "Ramon use it to blast rock." "Ah, but that's a good way off," declared Steve. Chesty drummed on the table, musingly. "If Pietro will go with me," he said presently, "I'll get you the nitro-glycerine." "You're crazy, man!" "Not quite," said Chesty, with a smile. "Every man belonging to Ramon's band is now here. I'm not afraid of the women he has left back there." "But how will you get there--swim?" "We'll take the launch, Pietro and I, and run the blockade at dead of night." "No," said Madeline, with decision, "I can't allow that. It would be too dangerous an undertaking. You might be captured." "I don't think so. If we are discovered, your launch can outrun theirs and I'll lead them a merry chase and come back again. What do you say, Pietro?" "Who? Me, Señor? Why, Ramon my enemy now. So I go with you." "You needn't fear Ramon, Pietro," said Madeline, gently. "We shall manage in some way to get you safely back to Mexico." The man's expression was stolid and unbelieving. "Perhaps he doesn't dare go back to Mexico," said Sybil. "Oh, yes;" replied Pietro. "I not 'fraid of Mexico. I smuggle, sometimes, before Ramon get me; but they forget all that by now. It is Ramon I fear. He is very bad man, as little Chica say. Always he wins, never he loses, in what he tries to do. For me, I have disobey an' defy him, so Ramon he whip me sure, when he catch me, an' when Ramon whip it is as bad as to die." It was impossible to overcome this stubborn belief in Ramon's omnipotence and they did not argue with the man further. But Orissa, who had been thoughtfully listening to the conversation, now said: "I do not like the plan of bringing nitro-glycerine here, even if Chesty could succeed in getting it. The stuff would be dangerous to us and to our enemies, for a slight accident would explode it or careless handling might blow us all to eternity. But, admitting you made the bombs, without accident to any of our party, what would be the result of exploding them among those little rock forts yonder? Wouldn't the rocks scatter in every direction and bombard us and the ship, perhaps causing damage that would be fatal to our hopes of escape?" "Orissa is quite right," said Mr. Cumberford, decisively. "We must abandon the idea at once." "I know it appears a desperate measure," admitted Radley-Todd, "but something must be done, both to drive away our enemies and get the _Salvador_ afloat again. Cut the explosives, and what remains for us to do?" "Make a sortie and drive them away from here," replied Cumberford. "I'm a little old for a pitched battle or guerrilla warfare, but this extraordinary Mexican--er--er--interests me. I'm willing to have it out with him here and now." "One white man is worth six Mexicans," declared Captain Krell, belligerently. "Won't do at all," asserted Steve. "We can't afford to take the chances of defeat, gentlemen, while we have these girls in our care. The ship is a fort that is almost impregnable, and we mustn't leave it for an instant--under any circumstances." CHAPTER XXI CAPTURING AN AËROPLANE As they sat with downcast countenances, reflecting upon their uncomfortable position, Orissa said quietly: "I've thought of something to relieve us. The idea came to me when Chesty insisted our launch could run the blockade." "Speak out, Ris," exclaimed Steve. "Your ideas are pretty good ones, as a rule. What's the proposition?" "Why, we all seem to have forgotten the Hy." "The Hydro-Aircraft?" "Yes. It is lying quite safe, and in apple-pie order, in the little ravine at the foot of the bluff where we camped." "But it is minus its plane-cloths," added Sybil. "Our tent is still standing, for I saw it from deck only an hour ago." "It won't take long to attach the plane-cloths," said Steve, "provided those brigands will let us do it. It's rather odd they haven't taken the trouble to capture the Aircraft already. It would be easy for Ramon to declare it 'wreck.'" "What would be the use?" asked Madeline. "They could not fly it, even if they knew how to put it in order; and, as they imagine we cannot get to it, they are not worrying about the thing. Of course they are able to see that tent on the bluff as easily as we can, and by and by they will go there and capture whatever the girls left." "True. That is why we must lose no unnecessary time," observed Orissa. "I do not yet see what the proposition is," asserted Chesty, in a puzzled tone. "I know what Orissa means," returned Steve quickly. "There's plenty of gasoline on board--I think nearly a barrel--intended for the use of the launch. If I could get to the Aircraft and fill its tanks with gasoline no one could prevent my flying home, where I could get a ship and men to come to our rescue." "That interests me; it does, really!" said Mr. Cumberford. "It's so easy and practical I wonder none of us thought of it before." "I've had the possibilities in mind for some time," declared Orissa, "but I had no idea we could get to the Aircraft until Chesty proposed running the blockade in our launch." "It's a fine idea," said Chesty, with enthusiasm. "I mean both our ideas--the combination, Orissa." "I believe it will solve all our difficulties," added Madeline, confidently. "But will not this journey be a hazardous one for Mr. Kane to undertake?" "I think not," replied Orissa. "The same amount of gasoline that brought Sybil and me to this place will carry the machine back again, and Steve can go more directly than we came, for he knows exactly how to head." "Then!" said Chesty Todd, "the plan is this: We'll put enough gasoline in cans to fill the tanks of the aëroplane, load 'em into the launch, and to-night Steve and I will sneak out of this inlet, slip past the Mexican's launch and hie us to that ravine of yours. Is there room enough for our boat to enter the bay you described, or is that big rock too close to shore to let us pass?" "There will be just about room for you to pass in, I think," answered Orissa. "But the big launch couldn't do it?" "Ramon's? No, indeed." "Very good." "Who will fly with me to San Diego?" asked Steve. "The Aircraft carries two, you know. One of the women ought to go. I wish we could carry them all away from this dangerous place." "Let them draw cuts for it," suggested Chesty. "You can let me out," said Sybil; "I won't leave Daddy." "Nonsense!" cried her father. "Then I'm nonsensical," laughed Sybil, "for I won't budge an inch without you. That wicked Mexican might capture you in a jiffy if I wasn't here to look after you. Not a word, sir; the thing is settled, as far as I am concerned." "I cannot go, of course," said Madeline. "This is my yacht and I must stand by it, and by my men, to the last. Nor could I with courtesy escape and leave my guests in danger." "Then it shall be Mrs. Tupper," proposed Orissa. "Me? Me? Goodness sakes, child," cried Mrs. Tupper, in great alarm, "do you think I'd risk my life in that dreadful airship?" "You'll risk it by staying," suggested her husband. "But there's a chance of salvation here," asserted the lady, with nervous haste. "I'd get light-headed and tumble out of that aëroplane in two minutes. And they'd hear me yell from Japan to San Francisco, I'd be so scared. I can stand death, Mr. Tupper, with Christian fortitude; but not torture!" "Orissa?" said Steve, inquiringly. "Yes; I'll go. I may be of more assistance to you all by going than by staying. And I will run the machine, Steve, and take you as a passenger. I've tinkered that steering-gear until I know just how to manage it." Steve nodded. "As I understand it, Miss Dentry," said he, "my mission will be to charter a fast steamship, for which Mr. Cumberford and I will pay, and bring it here to drag the _Salvador_ off this beach. The crew, which I will see is well armed, will work in conjunction with yours and when we outnumber Ramon Ganza's band of rascals he will probably run away to his den without attempting to fight." "Ramon never run," protested Pietro, shaking his head. "You cannot scare Ramon. The more men you bring, the more he has to fight; that is all." This gloomy prophecy made them look grave for a time. "Our Pietro is a pessimist," said Chesty, with assumed cheerfulness. "But some day the Mexican government will find this invincible hero and send a warship to blow his island out of the water." "Why--yes!" exclaimed Madeline, with sudden inspiration; "the Mexican government is interested in this affair. Why not fly to the nearest point on the Mexican coast, Mr. Kane, and from there telegraph President Madero? I believe he would send a warship at once, both to capture Ramon Ganza and to rescue us from his clutches." "Um-m. Madero has his hands full, just now, putting down revolutions at home," Mr. Cumberford reminded her. "And maybe he isn't interested in Ganza, who was convicted of a felony under the régime of Diaz." "I can try him, anyhow," said Steve. "The Mexican coast is about fifty miles nearer than San Diego." "Madero has offer one thousan' dollar--Mexican--for capture of Ramon," said Pietro, proudly. "So much money shows Ramon is great man." "In that case you'd better give Madero a chance at him, Steve," decided Mr. Cumberford. "A man-o'-war would be more effective here than a trading ship, and in the interests of humanity we should put an end to this fellow's cruel tyranny for good and all. He's far better off in jail." After some further discussion this plan was finally decided on and preparations were begun for the adventure. During the afternoon the cans of gasoline were placed in the launch and Steve went over the machinery of the little boat with great care, to assure himself it was in perfect order. The nights were never really dark until toward morning, when the stars seemed to dim and the moon dipped below the horizon. Sometimes there were a few drifting clouds, but they never obscured the sky long enough to be utilized as a mask. So Steve decided to make his attempt at the dark hour preceding dawn and made Orissa go to bed and get what sleep she could. She said her good-byes to the others then, so it would not be necessary to disturb them at the time of departure. At three o'clock her brother called her and told her to get ready. Chesty and Steve were seated in the launch when the girl arrived on deck, and she quickly took her place. While it was much darker than it had been earlier in the night, Orissa found she could see near-by objects quite distinctly. Four of the crew, headed by Captain Krell, were standing by to lower the launch over the side, and as the owls were hooting their most dismal chorus their screams drowned any noise made by the windlass. No sooner had the launch touched the surface than Chesty dipped his scull in the water and with a dexterous motion sent the little craft forward toward the mouth of the inlet. They might have been seen from the shore had the Mexicans been alert, but at this hour many who were supposed to be watching had fallen asleep, and if any remained awake their eyes were not turned upon the waters of the tiny bay. Quite noiselessly the launch moved on and presently turned the point of rock at the right. Orissa stifled a cry and Steve's heart gave a bound as the bow of the launch pointed straight at the big boat of Ramon, scarcely ten feet distant; but Chesty saw the danger, too, and a sharp swing of the scull sent the light craft spinning around so that it just grazed the side of the Mexican's boat, in which all the occupants were fast asleep. Next moment they had passed it, and still Chesty continued sculling, as it was not safe as yet to start the engines. But when they had skirted the shore for such a distance that the screeching of the owls would be likely to drown the noise of their motor, Steve started the machinery and the launch darted away at full speed. Half an hour later they crept between the big rock and the bluff and were safe in the deep hollow at the foot of the ravine, having accomplished the adventure so easily that they marvelled at their own success. "Strikes me as a good omen," remarked Orissa, cheerfully, as they disembarked and drew the launch upon the sands. "I hope the luck will follow you on your return, Chesty." "Me?" replied the big boy. "Why, nothing ever happens to me. Let us hope the good luck will follow you and Steve, on whom the safety of the entire party now depends. What first, Steve? "The tent. We must get that down before daybreak, so they won't see us working on it from the bay, and interfere with our proposed flight." Orissa led the way to the bluff and at once Steve and Chesty began tumbling the rocks from the edges of the canvas. This was no light task, for the girls had erected a solid parapet in order to defy the wind; but just as the first streaks of dawn appeared the tent came down and they hastily seized the canvas, added it to the covering of the upper plane, which had been inside the tent, and lugged it all down the incline to where the frame of the Aircraft lay. "Very good," said Steve. "We'll need the daylight now, in order to attach the cloth." They had not long to wait, and while Steve, assisted by Radley-Todd, fastened the cloth in place with the clips provided for that purpose, which Orissa had carefully saved, the girl herself inspected the machinery and all the framework, even to the last brace, to be sure it was in condition for the long trip. She also oiled the steering gear and thoroughly tested it to see that it worked freely. By nine o'clock the planes were tautly spread and the tanks had been filled with gasoline. "I think we are all ready for the start," said Steve. "But how about you, Chesty? As soon as we roll the Aircraft to the top of the bluff the Mexicans will see us and start for this place to try to intercept us. Orissa and I will be gone, when they arrive; but they may find you, unless you make tracks." "How do you expect to regain the ship?" asked Orissa, who had not considered this matter before. "Don't worry about me, I beg of you," retorted the boy, hastily. "I shall be all right. All ready, Steve?" Steve looked at him thoughtfully. "I think that when they see us fly away they may give up the idea of coming here," said he; "and, in that case, you'd better lie here in the ravine until night, when you can try to steal back in the same way we came." "All right, old man; never mind me." "But we _do_ mind you, Chesty," said Orissa, earnestly. "You've been a faithful friend ever since we got into this difficulty--and before, too--so we can't have anything happen to you." He blushed like a girl, but declared he would be perfectly safe. "Don't take any foolish chances," urged Orissa. "I won't." They rolled the Aircraft up to the top of the bluff and set it with the head facing the sea. Then Steve and Orissa took their places and Chesty, giving them each a hearty handclasp, spun the propeller blade as Steve started the engine. At once the aëroplane darted forward, rose as it passed the bluff, and sailed gracefully into the air. Chesty hid his six-feet-three behind a boulder, to shield himself from observation, while he watched the splendid machine turn upon its course and speed away over the Pacific on its errand of rescue. Then, with a sigh of relief and elation, the boy crept into the ravine and descended to where his boat lay. Seated in the launch, calmly awaiting him, were three of the Mexicans, headed by the one-eyed Francisco. CHAPTER XXII RAMON GANZA When Madeline came on deck, soon after daybreak, Captain Krell reported the successful departure of the launch. "Are you sure they were not seen?" she asked. "Quite sure, Miss Dentry, for we heard not a sound, either from our party or from the besiegers, although we listened intently." Long before Steve could have prepared the aëroplane for the journey those on board the yacht were gazing expectantly at the bluff. The tent had disappeared, which was proof that the undertaking had so far been successful. At this time there seemed to be a little stir among the Mexicans and Mr. Cumberford suggested, rather nervously, that they also had noticed the absence of the tent, without understanding what could have become of it. At half-past eight they heard the sound of the engines of Ramon's big launch, and that made them worry more than ever until Sybil suddenly cried: "There they are!" Upon the distant bluff appeared the Aircraft. A little cheer, which none could restrain, went up from the deck of the yacht. There was no delay. Scarcely was the machine in position when it mounted into the air and headed directly toward the east. Every eye watched it eagerly until it had become a dim speck against the blue sky and finally disappeared from view altogether, flying steadily and with a speed that raised their hopes to the highest pitch. Then, with one accord, they returned to the cabin to discuss the chances of Radley-Todd's getting back to them safely with the launch. "I don't worry much about that young man," said Cumberford. "He's as full of resources as a pincushion is of sawdust, and I'll bet my hat we shall soon see him again, safe and sound." The captain now entered with an anxious face. "That confounded Mexican king is signaling us with a flag of truce," he reported. "What, Ramon?" exclaimed Madeline. "Yes. What shall we do?" "Stay here, Miss Dentry," said Cumberford, rising. "I'll go and see what the fellow wants." "I will go with you," returned Madeline, quietly. "I wish you would not." "Why?" she asked. "If he bears a flag of truce there is no danger." "I do not believe he would respect a flag of truce--nor anything else," asserted Mr. Cumberford. "Do you, Captain?" "No, sir. He's tricky and unreliable. Don't trust him for a moment." But Madeline would not be denied. She accompanied the captain and Mr. Cumberford to the deck. Just beside the yacht floated the little rowboat which had been brought from Ramon's island, and in it sat Ramon himself, all alone, holding aloft a handkerchief attached as a flag to a boat-hook. As they peered over the side at him he bowed profoundly and removed his hat to Miss Dentry. He was still clothed in his white flannels and his fingers glittered with jewels. "What do you want?" demanded Mr. Cumberford sharply. "The pleasure of conversing with you, señor," was the confident reply. "If you will kindly let down your ladder I will come on board. You see, myself I place in your power. We have, I much regret, some slight misunderstanding between us, which a few words will assuredly correct." "Don't let him up, sir," advised Captain Krell, in a low voice. "But he is unarmed," said Madeline. "I think it will be best to confer with him." "Then do it from a distance," grumbled the captain. "Sir," called Mr. Cumberford, "if you have any apologies to make, you may speak from where you are." "Then, alas, my overtures of peace are refused?" said Ramon, not defiantly, but in a tone of deep regret. "No; we don't refuse any sincere overtures of peace; but you have treated us in a scoundrelly manner, and we don't trust you." "Such a terrible mistake, señor; so sad! But I cannot explain it from here. With utmost trust in your honor I offer to come to you alone, and--see!--unarmed. Will not you, for the sake of the ladies who are with you, encourage my friendliness?" "Let him come up," said Madeline again. There seemed a veiled threat in Ramon's appeal. "Very well. But tell your men to watch his every movement, Captain, and if he makes a treacherous move shoot him down without hesitation." The rope ladder was cast over the side and Ramon promptly seized it and climbed to the deck. "Follow us below," commanded Mr. Cumberford, turning toward the cabin. The man hesitated, casting a shrewd, quick glance around. Then he bowed again and said: "I thank the señor for his courtesy." In the cabin were assembled Mr. and Mrs. Tupper and Sybil Cumberford. Chica and Pietro discreetly kept out of view. Mr. Cumberford entered first, followed by Madeline. Then came Ramon Ganza and behind him the captain and little O'Reilly, the Irish engineer. This last personage was virtually "armed to the teeth," for he carried one of Ramon's own rifles and a brace of revolvers. "Be seated," said Mr. Cumberford, pointing to a chair. "And now, sir, state your errand." Ganza's comprehensive glance had taken in every member of the party, as well as the luxurious furnishings of the _Salvador's_ cabin, which seemed to please his aesthetic taste. "I ask to be inform, being in ignorance, if three people may ride in one flying-machine," he blandly announced, looking from one face to another as if uncertain whom to address. "Three?" asked Cumberford, as if puzzled. "Yes. I see that one young lady and two men are missing from your party." "I suppose three can ride, if need be," muttered Cumberford. "Is your mission here to gain information concerning aëroplanes?" "Only in part, señor." The Mexican's features had hitherto been composed and smiling, despite the stern and mistrustful looks he encountered on all sides. But now, perhaps understanding that these Americans were not easily to be cajoled, his own face grew somber and lowering and he said in a sharp, incisive manner: "You prefer to discuss business only?" "We do, sir," was the reply, Mr. Cumberford continuing to act as spokesman. "Very nice. I have a wish to invite you all to my island, where you shall be my respected guests. My mansion shall be at your service; my servants shall obey your commands; you shall delight in the grand scenery and enjoy yourselves as you will." "Thank you; we decline your hospitality." "But I fear in that you make bad mistake, señor," continued Ramon Ganza, unabashed by the rebuff. "My island is a pleasant place, and where else can you find so much happiness when my ship, which you now inhabit, is destroyed?" "Oh; that's the idea, is it?" exclaimed Mr. Cumberford. "You interest me, sir; you do, really. Perhaps you will state how you intend to destroy our ship, which is not, permit me to say, your ship as yet." "Is it necessary to say more?" asked the Mexican, spreading out his jewelled hands with a deprecating gesture. "I think it will enable us to understand you better." As if in deep thought, Ganza drummed upon the cabin table with his fingers. "I am very sad at your refusal to be my guests," he said after a time. "This, my ship, is in a most dangerous position. It is half out of water, on an island that is a bleak rock. I come here from the island where I reside to befriend you--to offer you my humble hospitality--when I have taken possession of the wreck--and in your blindness--do you call it fatuity?--you receive me as an enemy. Some of your people chase my boat, as if I have no right to sail the seas of my own islands! Yet I am not resentful; not at all. I enjoy some humor and I am good man, with much respectability. When your ship catches on fire, as it will probably do very soon, you must escape to these bare rocks, where you can find no assistance, no food to keep you alive. Then perhaps you will feel more kindly toward poor Don Miguel del Borgitis--your humble servant--and find willingness to accept his beautiful home as your own. But why wait for fire to drive you to death most terrible or to my great hospitality? Is it not the best to accept my offer, and so save yourselves from--inconvenience?" Beneath the smooth words the ugly threat was so visible that even brave Madeline paled, and Mr. Tupper shuddered vigorously. But Mr. Cumberford, gazing critically into the man's face, replied: "I see. Interesting; very. You want to save this yacht. You would like to drag it afloat and carry it away to your own island, where we, accepting your hospitality, would become your prisoners. But if we refuse to surrender the ship, you say you will set fire to it, in which case you would burn us up or force us to land. If we land, you will capture us and force us to become your unwilling subjects. Is that a clear understanding of your statement, Ramon Ganza?" The outlaw gave a start as he heard his true name mentioned, but quickly recovered his assurance. "The señor is very intelligent," he said. "At any rate, the señor is not demented," retorted Cumberford, grimly. "Why did you venture to place yourself in our power, Ramon Ganza, and then threaten us as you have done?" "I came under flag of truce." "And you think, on that account, we will let you go again, to carry out your cowardly designs?" "I am certain of that. Before I came I took care to protect myself." "In what way?" He looked at his watch, a huge jewelled affair. "Underneath your ship," said he quietly, "is anchored a mine of very much power. It lies under that part which is in the water--I think just below the place where we now sit. If I do not depart from here in safety within fifty minutes from now, my men will kindly explode this mine and blow us all to--well, where we go. The poor ship, alas, will be destroyed with us." "Would your men execute such an absurd order?" asked Cumberford sneeringly. "With much satisfaction. You see, it would make them free. They do not love me very much. If I die, they will have my beloved island and all my possessions--so they think." "And you would be willing to forfeit your life as the alternative of not getting control of this yacht? Do you expect us to believe that?" The outlaw's glittering fingers drummed upon the table again. "The señor is not so wholly intelligent as I believed," said he. "I do not contradict his statement that he is not--eh--what you call it?--demented, or a fool; but the statement seems open to suspicion." "Ah; that interests me." "It ought to. You seem to know my name, señor; therefore you doubtless know my history. Pietro will have told you, or Chica, for both are now with you. My safety has depended on my keeping hidden upon my island. I must not let any who has seen me there, and recognized Ramon Ganza, depart to carry the tale to the mainland. In Mexico a price is set upon my head and they have condemned me to years in prison. But--there! I assure you all that I am good man, and honest; but my enemies have conspired to destroy me. "As Don Miguel del Borgitis I have lived very respectable until, unfortunately for us all, you came here. I knew two girls had been wreck on this island in a flying-machine--a very strange and exciting invention, is it not?--but I did not disturb them nor allow them to become aware of my existence. Why? All I wish is safety. When some of you people, after this yacht is driven ashore in storm, intrude on me by coming to my hiding-place, I was obliged to protect myself. I started to come here to get every one on board and invite them to my island--where I meant to keep you all indefinitely, for I did not dare allow you to return to America and say where you had found Ramon Ganza. This yacht I could use to advantage, I admit; but I would be better pleased had I never seen it--nor you. "Almost at once you are my enemies, and defy my laws. That did not change my plans except to make them harder. In this unknown island I am really king. I must conquer you, which I thought with good reason I could easily accomplish in time. So I make siege to your boat, laughing to think you cannot escape me. But one man cannot comprehend all things, señor, and I failed to consider that devilish contrivance, your flying-machine. I thought it was wreck, and no good any more. Some time last night three of your party get away and go to flying-machine, and this morning some of them--one, two, three; it does not matter--have fly away in it. Of course they will go to the mainland. That means they send assistance to you. They float your ship, take you back to America and you all have knowledge where Ramon Ganza may be found by those that seek his capture. Now you understand me, do you not? You have make it very unpleasant for me. If I escape from my island in little boat, where can I got? If I stay I will be arrest and carried to Mexico to be put in prison. Very well; I must escape. But not in my launch, which is old and not very good. I must have this yacht, which will carry me to any far part of the world, where Mexico is not known. Perhaps in it I could be privateer, if that seemed best way to protect my liberty--which is dearer to me than life. With this yacht I could defy all enemies; without it--I face death, or at least ruin. You have driven me to this desperation, so I come to make you my proposition. Now that I have explained all with much frankness, you will understand I mean what I say, for I am talking for my liberty--the liberty of a man who would soon die in confinement, for I am used to the open and could not exist as a convicted felon, in chains and abused by dogs of jailers. For your party I have no especial enmity; neither do I care for you the snap of my fingers. But believe this: Either I will save myself in this yacht, as I have proposed, or I will die in your company." CHAPTER XXIII A DESPERATE ALTERNATIVE Ramon Ganza had spoken slowly and with deliberation, choosing his words with care. His story seemed plausible, except where it referred to the planting of the mine, which he claimed to be the last resort of a man so desperately situated. Some of his hearers were quite convinced of his sincerity in making this statement, but Mr. Cumberford was not among them. He remembered Chica's artless statement: "Ramon lies; he always lies," and it confirmed his skepticism. "As I understand you," he made answer, after a little thought, "you consider your retreat no longer safe because we have discovered it. Therefore, on obtaining possession of this yacht, you propose to sail to parts unknown, leaving us stranded on this rocky island." "From whence you will soon be rescued," added the outlaw, with a bow. "The siege which you had planned, in order to force us to surrender through starvation, is no longer practical; for time presses and if you delay you will be surprised by the ship sent to rescue us--perhaps a Mexican man-o'-war." The man nodded, watching the speaker's face with an eagerness he could not dissemble. "For which reason," continued Mr. Cumberford, "you decided to force a climax by coming on board and threatening us--as you have done. Well, we intend to force your alternative, Ramon Ganza. You are our prisoner, and if your men blow up this yacht you shall go to eternity with us!" The Mexican's face grew rigid a moment. Then he smiled in a sardonic way and shrugged his shoulders. But Mr. Tupper, white and trembling as with an ague, leaped to his feet and cried: "In heaven's name, Cumberford, what do you mean? Would you destroy us all in this heartless fashion?" "No. There is no mine; or, if there is, it will not explode." "I--I differ with you. This--er--person--is desperate. He--he knows what he's talking about. I refuse to ta-ta-take the chances, sir! I must consider the safety of my wife and myself, and of our niece, Miss Dentry. This is our yacht, Cumberford, not yours, I beg to remind you, and we shall decide this important question ourselves." Even before he ceased speaking Mrs. Tupper, whose eyes had been wild and staring, uttered a piercing shriek and tumbled to the floor of the cabin in violent hysterics. Sybil and Madeline rushed to her assistance and this confusion further unnerved Mr. Tupper. With sudden energy he pounded his fist upon the table and cried: "I won't allow it! I won't allow this sacrifice. Madeline is rich; what does she care for this miserable yacht? Take it, you Mexican thief, if you want it! Our lives are far too precious to be put in peril." Ramon Ganza's face showed his satisfaction but his eyes expressed nothing but contempt for the terrified Mr. Tupper. Mr. Cumberford sat calmly regarding the contortions of the afflicted lady, as if wondering how much was involuntary and how much pure perversity. The captain twirled his thumbs and seemed absolutely unconcerned, while little O'Reilly's attention was fixed, in keen amusement, on the scene before him, as if it were a vaudeville act performed for his especial edification. As Mrs. Tupper continued to pound the floor with her heels Madeline first emptied the water pitcher over her aunt and then slyly pinched her, which torture may have been responsible for some of the frantic screams. Mr. Tupper bowed his head despairingly on the cabin table, in an attitude so pitiable that it should have aroused the sympathy of all beholders, as he intended it to do. But meanwhile his good wife gradually recovered; her screams subsided to heart-rending wails and then to moans, after which she became quiet except for a series of nervous sobs. Madeline and Sybil now raised the poor woman and supported her to her stateroom, where she fell exhausted upon the berth. It was not until the girls returned to the cabin that the discussion of Ramon Ganza's proposition was renewed. Miss Dentry gave him a searching look as she entered and noted the outlaw's smirk of satisfaction and the triumphant glitter of the dark eyes beneath their half closed lids. Then her own expression hardened and she turned to Mr. Cumberford, as if inviting him to proceed. "Madeline," implored Mr. Tupper, "be good enough to assure this man--Mr.--Mr.--eh--Ganza--that the yacht, which is your property, is at his disposal in return for our--safety." "The yacht is really Miss Dentry's property," added Mr. Cumberford coolly. "She will dispose of it as she thinks fit." [Illustration: Madeline, seated at the table, studied the faces before her curiously, while an amused smile played around her lips. "We cannot accept our enemy's proposition," she announced.] Madeline, seated at the table, studied the faces before her curiously, while an amused smile played around her lips. She knew she was enjoying the scene, and also knew the moment was critical, but no fear of consequences caused her courageous heart to falter an instant. "We cannot accept our enemy's proposition," she announced. "Ramon Ganza is not the man to abide by any promises he makes, and if once we left the protection of this yacht we would probably be treated with little mercy. It would not save a single life, Uncle Martin, to agree to Ganza's proposal. Threatening and browbeating those weaker than himself seems to be the man's pet recreation and before he left the island he would leave us to our fate, virtual prisoners. It might be years before any ship chanced to sail this way." "I give you my pledge of honor to send word to your friends where you are," protested Ganza, eagerly. "As you have no honor, sir, your word has no value. But I have a counter-proposition to suggest which will, I think, satisfy all concerned. Order your men, Ramon Ganza, to lay down their arms and surrender themselves to our keeping and to obey us unreservedly. Then, under command of Captain Krell, all hands must attempt to get the yacht afloat in deep water. When that is accomplished we will take you with us back to the United States and secretly land you in any port you select. Afterward we will not betray you nor attempt to hunt you down. If you need money, I will even supply you with a small sum that will enable you to flee to Europe or South America. That is fair. It is more fair than you deserve. But, if you accept our terms, we will abide by them faithfully." The Mexican was intensely annoyed. "No!" he exclaimed, abruptly. "If you cannot trust me, why should I trust you?" "Because my plan is by far the better way," she rejoined. "If you seek liberty, if you desire to avoid arrest, this plan will surely accomplish your purpose. You cannot prefer prison to assured freedom, and the alternative, if you reject my plan, is simply to explode your mine." He drummed on the table again, rather nervously. "Pardon me, Miss Dentry," said Cumberford, "but you are proposing to aid and abet the escape of a condemned criminal. You will render yourself, and us, liable to punishment." "I know," she answered. "I despise myself for treating with this scoundrel, but do it to relieve the fears of the Tuppers and perhaps others aboard who have not yet protested. If I dared follow my own counsel I would defy him, as you have done." "My dear sir," said Mr. Tupper, looking at the Mexican beseechingly, "accept Miss Dentry's terms, I implore you. She will do exactly as she agrees; she always does!" "Puh!" muttered Ganza, uneasily shifting in his chair; "perhaps we can arrange. But the trust shall not be all on one side. If I trust you, you must trust me--to an extent--a few more details. Instead of giving you my men, you must give me yours, and place all weapons in my control. Also I will take command of this yacht, for I am good sailor. In an hour's time I will float the ship; then, with my men, I will sail it back to United States, to land your party on the coast near to some city which you can reach easily by walking. After that I will sail away in this yacht, which you will present to me in return for my services to you. You see, in this way you assure absolute safety to yourselves. As this wise and agreeable gentleman," indicating Mr. Tupper, "has with cleverness stated, the young lady is rich enough to afford the loss of her boat, so you can have no objection to my generous proposition." "None whatever!" exclaimed Mr. Tupper. "Agree, Madeline, agree!" "No," she said, shaking her head, "I will not. The man is not sincere, or he would not require us to place ourselves in his power." "But I insist, my dear. He--he seems quite honest. I--I----" "Be quiet, confound you!" roared Cumberford, losing patience. "You're a doddering old idiot, Tupper, and if you don't shut up I'll gag you." He turned to Ganza. "Miss Dentry's proposition still stands, and it's the final word. You'll either accept it--right now, on the spot--or take the consequences." "Already I have refuse," said the outlaw calmly. "Very well. O'Reilly, march this fellow to the cage, for'ard, and lock him in. Then stand guard before the door and shoot him if he bothers you." "Thank 'e, sor; it's proud I am to do that same," answered the engineer, gleefully. "One moment, please," said Ganza. "You make doubt of my saying that you all face a most horrible death. You are stupid Americans, and must be convinced. Come with me on deck and I will prove to you your danger." "No harm in that," replied Cumberford. "It's on your way to the cage." With one accord they all accompanied O'Reilly and his prisoner to the deck. "Now," said Ramon, standing by the rail, "I have some men hid in those rocks yonder. Their names are Paschal, Mateo, Gabrielle, Gomez, Francisco, Pedro, Gonzales, Juan and Tomas. Tell me which one I shall call--I care not which, myself--and the man will assure you my orders are positive to them, and that they will carry out the explosion of the mine as I have arranged, provided I do not return in safety." Cumberford was curious to learn the extent of the rogue's bravado. "Call Mateo," he suggested. The Mexican did so, raising his voice to utter the summons. From behind a pile of rocks nearly opposite them sprang a thin, gaunt man. He ran down to the water's edge, saluted his chief and stood at attention. "Come here, Mateo," commanded Ganza. Without hesitation the man waded into the inlet and swam to the rope ladder which dangled over the side. This he seized and climbed on deck, where, dripping with water, he again faced his master and saluted him. "Tell me, Mateo," said Ramon Ganza, "where is it, beneath this boat, that the mine has been planted?" "Fourteen feet from the stern, Capitan." "And is it powerful enough to destroy the ship?" "To make it in small pieces, Capitan--an' ten ship like it, if ten ship were here." "Very nice. You know what time the mine is to explode?" "At eleven o'clock, Capitan, unless you come ashore to countermand the order." "Ah yes; so it is. You may go back to your post, Mateo." The man, looking neither to right nor left, descended the ladder, swam to shore and retreated behind the rocks again. Ramon turned to Mr. Cumberford, showing the open face of his watch. "In five minutes it will be eleven o'clock," he quietly announced. "Take him to the cage, O'Reilly!" Two other armed men had joined the engineer on deck and the three now surrounded Ganza and started forward with him. "Mercy, Cumberford! Save us--save us!" howled Mr. Tupper, frantic with fear. "I can't die now--we ought none of us to die! Give him the launch. Give him the----" A cry interrupted him. Mason, the man nearest the rail, dropped his gun and staggered back with his hands clasped to his side, from which a stream of blood gushed forth. At the same moment the huge form of Ramon Ganza leaped the rail and dove headforemost into the water. But everyone else was more interested in the wounded man, who seemed to be badly hurt. Ramon Ganza was forgotten as the girls bent over the poor fellow with anxious looks. "Have Mason brought to my own cabin, at once," said Madeline to Captain Krell. They carried the wounded man below, to be placed in Madeline's roomy cabin. Mr. Cumberford was not a surgeon, but there was no one aboard who knew more of surgery than he and so he went to Mason's side at once. Ganza had struck the man with a knife of the stiletto type, the narrow blade of which had penetrated his side just above the hip joint. Mr. Cumberford's "first aid" outfit, which the captain was able to supply, enabled him to stop the bleeding, but he was unable to tell how serious the injury might prove. The man was in considerable pain, which Cumberford partially relieved with a hypodermic injection of morphine. During this interesting period no one gave a thought to the escaped Mexican, but when nothing more could be done for his patient Cumberford left the girls to watch over him and walked into the cabin, where he found Mrs. Tupper sobbing as if in great grief while her husband sat in his favorite despairing attitude, his head bowed on his arms. "What's wrong?" demanded Cumberford, in surprise. "Wrong!" cried Tupper, lifting his head; "why, at any moment may come the crash of the explosion that will send us all to eternity. We--we can't escape it. It's inevitable!" Cumberford looked at his watch. "It's a quarter to twelve," he said. "The explosion was due at eleven." "But the Mexican brigand--the pirate chief--the----" "He has escaped, so there'll be no explosion at all. I believe he threatened to fire the ship; but he won't do that. Ganza's sole ambition is to capture this boat, so he can sail away from his countrymen, escape imprisonment, and perhaps become a really-truly pirate. Interesting, isn't it? Forget the explosion, Tupper; if you must worry, worry about our real danger." "What is that, sir? What is our real danger?" cried Madeline's uncle, springing to his feet in a new access of terror. "There'll be fighting, presently," predicted Mr. Cumberford. "Having failed in all else, the Mexican will find a way to board us--in the night, probably--and will try to slice us to goulash or pepper us with bullets, as opportunity decides." "Great heavens!" "To be sure. To avoid getting to those great heavens, where you don't belong, I advise you to arm yourself properly and be ready to repel the attack." Then Cumberford went on deck and found the captain. "How about Ramon Ganza?" he asked. "I think Ganza kept swimming and reached the shore, where his men dragged him to cover. The fellow seems to bear a charmed life." "That's bad," observed Cumberford, shaking his head regretfully. "I've an idea, Captain Krell, that unless we manage to capture Ramon Ganza during the next twenty-four hours, he will manage to capture us." "So soon?" asked the captain. "He won't dare to wait longer. There's help coming." "Well, sir, in that case----" The captain hesitated. "In that case it will be pleasanter and more satisfactory for us to capture Ganza," said Mr. Cumberford. "Interesting; isn't it?" "How can we do it?" asked Captain Krell. "I don't know," replied Cumberford. CHAPTER XXIV THE DIPLOMACY OF CHESTY TODD When Mr. H. Chesterton Radley-Todd discovered the one-eyed Francisco and his two comrades calmly seated in the _Salvador's_ launch, engaged in nonchalantly smoking their brown-paper cigarettes, he merely raised his eyebrows and continued down the slope. They had seen him as soon as he saw them and, confident in their superior numbers, awaited his advance with serenity. Chesty knew there was little chance of escape, and he knew the men knew he knew it. The launch was his sole resource, and the enemy had captured it. He might, perhaps, dodge behind the rocks on the mountain for an indefinite period, but they'd get him in the end, so such an undertaking was scarcely worth the exertion it required. Therefore, on he came, walking leisurely and picking his way deliberately down the incline until he stood beside the launch, which was still beached upon the shore of the little pocket-like bay. Then he drew out a silver case and, choosing a cigarette with solicitous care, turned to Francisco and said: "Will the señor favor me with a light?" The men grinned. They enjoyed the humor of the situation. Francisco, with a bow of mock deference, furnished the required light from his own cigarette. Chesty climbed into the launch, took a seat facing Francisco and remarked: "Fine day, señors." "Good to fly in air," nodded one of the men, with a laugh and a glance skyward. "Oh; did you see the machine fly? Pretty sight, wasn't it? And you boys saw it for nothing. In the United States we charge fifty cents to tickle the vision like that." Francisco looked at him, meditating. "Where they go?" he asked. "To Mexico, to ask President Madero for a battleship." The men exchanged significant glances. "For why, señor?" inquired one of them. "To come and get Ramon Ganza and clap him in prison. Perhaps hang him to one of those banana trees, on the bluff up there." The Mexicans looked their consternation. "If that is true," said Francisco, slowly, "then I may be capture an' put in prison, too." "I suppose so; because you belong to Ganza's gang and have probably broken the laws more than once." "I not murder," protested the man. "Ramon do that, I know; but not me. I very hones' an' good. But come," he added, throwing away his cigarette and rising. "We mus' go back. You are our prisoner, señor." Chesty did not move. He took the silver case from his pocket and offered it to the Mexicans. "Help yourselves, boys," he said. "There's no hurry. Let us sit here and have a little talk. When you get back to Ramon he'll be sure to keep you busy enough. This is a good time to rest." They hesitated a little, but took the cigarettes and lighted them. "I suppose," remarked Mr. Todd, leaning back with his arms clasped around his knees, "if I asked the warship to take Ganza, and let my friends--you are my friends, I suppose?" They all nodded, watching his face eagerly. "And let my friends escape--with me, in our yacht, the _Salvador_--they would do so without question. Madero knows me, and he usually does what I ask." "You know Madero?" asked Francisco, his back against the boat and his elbows resting on the gunwale, in a lounging attitude. "We are like twin brothers," asserted Chesty. "That is why he will send a warship to take Ramon Ganza and all his gang--except those who are my friends." They smoked a while in silence and Chesty noted that they now forbore meeting one another's eyes. "Ramon great man," said one, presently, as if to himself. "Ramon bad master; his people are dogs; but Ramon have his own way, an' nobody dare stop him." "Wrong, my friend," rejoined Mr. Todd. "Ramon is stopped right now. His time is up; his days are numbered. He has run the length of his rope. Presently he'll be confined in a dungeon, on bread-and-water, or breaking stone on the roads--in chains and very miserable. Poor Ramon. What a fool he was to break the law--which leads to breaking stones!" "Ramon very clever," suggested another man, but in a doubtful tone. "Cleverness has failed him this time," said Chesty. "Your leader is caught like a rat in a trap. If he could get hold of our yacht he'd skip out and save himself; but he can't do that in a thousand years." "An' why not, señor?" "We're too strong for him." They pondered this. "Ramon have sixteen men," said Francisco, presently. "You had 'leven; but one fly away, an' one--that is you, señor--is now capture. That make you nine. Nine to sixteen--an' Ramon to lead those sixteen!" "You didn't remain in school long enough to complete your education, Francisco," declared the prisoner, calmly. "In other words, you can't figure. Here's the real situation, and it's worth your while to study it: The yacht has a crew of seven--all splendid warriors. Then there's General Cumberford, a terrible fighter, and Major-General Tupper, who cries every night if he can't kill a man before he goes to bed--it makes him sleep better, you know--and the invincible Captain Krell, who once cut down a whole regiment with his own saber--chopped them into mince-meat by the hundreds, and was given a gold medal with his monogram engraved on it, to commemorate the event. That's an even ten defenders. And then there's myself. I won't say much about myself, but you might look me over carefully. It is possible that if I was aroused I might crush you three in my arms until your bones cracked like walnuts." They did look at him, and it seemed as if the big fellow might do it, exactly as he said. But Chesty continued, reassuringly: "However, I never injure my friends. I'm noted for that. Let's see; ten in our party, so far, wasn't it? Then there's that Red-beard--Pietro--who has been given a charm by one of our witch-women which will not only preserve his life but enable him to defeat all his enemies. Pietro desires to return to civilization, a free man, and we will allow him to do so." They were much impressed by this statement. Chesty's idea of the "witch-woman" was destined to prove his most forceful argument. "Pietro makes eleven," he continued, "and you three bring the number up to fourteen, which leaves Ramon but thirteen followers to be arrested with him--unlucky number, thirteen. Haven't you noticed it?" "You think we join you, then?" asked Francisco, curiously. "I'm sure of it. You are no longer afraid of Ramon, for his jig is up. You don't want to go to prison with him, because it is very disagreeable to break stone on the roads, I'm told, and in prison they deprive a man of even his cigarettes. I know you have been bad boys, all three of you, and until now the law has threatened you. But you have reformed. Remember, señors, you have reformed, and are now honest men. I will tell Madero, my friend the president, what honest men you are, and how you have helped to defy Ramon, the outlaw, and give him up to justice. Madero will then reward you, and you will live happy ever after." It was an enticing picture. The men looked grave and undecided. In their hearts they hated Ramon; but they also feared him. For years they had lived in daily terror of the tyrant who ruled them with an iron hand, who whipped a man brutally if he incurred his anger, who dominated them so utterly that they grovelled at his feet like the curs they were. If they could be sure of Ramon's downfall; if they could believe this big American boy, who was fully as powerful of frame as Ramon himself, then they would gladly desert the tyrant and save themselves by joining his enemies. It was only their inbred fear of Ramon and their confidence in his cleverness in defying justice, that made them hesitate. Chesty saw this. He racked his brain to find other arguments. "You have witch-women?" asked one of the men, in an awed tone. "Three of them, all very bewitching." "One has fly away." "Yes; to cast a spell over the captain of the Mexican battleship, and make him hurry. The two most powerful are still here on this island." "Then why they not use their witchcraft to push your ship into deep water!" inquired Francisco, his one eye flashing triumphantly. "Why the witch-women let Ramon make trouble for you? Eh? Tell me, señor." Chesty looked at the man reproachfully. "How stupid you are, Francisco. Must we not keep Ramon busy, to hold him here until the warship comes? Why do you suppose we came to this island at all, and ran our ship high on the beach, without hurting it in any way! Did we lay a trap for Ramon? Did we coax him to come and try to capture us, that we might prove he is a wicked law-breaker? We do not seem much afraid of your Ramon, do we? Am I frightened? Do I grow pale, and tremble? Here--feel my pulse--does my blood beat faster in my veins because Ramon Ganza, the trapped criminal, is waiting here to be captured, and thinks he is making us worry?" The two men exchanged a few sentences in Spanish. Francisco listened to them and nodded approvingly. "The case is this, señor," he announced, addressing Mr. Todd. "We would like to leave Ramon. We would like to join your ship an' go back to Mexico, an' have pardon. But Ramon is not trap yet. Ramon great man. Many time he escape. If we leave him, an' he then capture your ship, Ramon flog us with whip, which make great pain in us." "True, that might be the result if Ramon captures the ship; but he can't do that--not in a century of Sundays, which is a long time. And if you stay with Ramon you will surely be made prisoners when the warship comes, which will be in another day or two. You must make up your minds which is the most powerful--we and our witch-women, with the Mexican government and its warships to back us, or poor Ramon, who is caught in a trap. I like you, all three--but not too much. You are fine men--unless I am lying--and I would grieve to see you imprisoned with Ramon. But otherwise I do not care what you decide to do. Come with me and I will save you, just as I intend to save myself, from Ramon's anger. But if you stick to your old master I cannot say one good word for you when you face the Mexican authorities. Now I am tired talking. Make up your minds and let me know." He carelessly rose, lighted another cigarette and strolled down to the water's edge, where he stood with his back to them. The three rascals took advantage of the opportunity and argued among themselves for half an hour. "Señor!" called Francisco, who, as a trusted lieutenant of Ramon Ganza, was the more important of the three. Mr. Radley-Todd came back to the launch. "It is this way," explained Francisco. "We desire to be save, señor, but we have caution. We believe you speak true, but not yet have you conquer Ramon; not yet has the warship come to take him to prison. So we think of a way to be safe if Ramon win, an' safe if you win. It is but just to us, as honest men, that we do that way." Chesty smiled, really amused. "How childlike and bland you naughty, naughty men are!" he exclaimed. "But let me hear your clever plan to play both sides and win hands down." "When we find you escape from ship," began Francisco, "then Ramon think you have come here, for the tent is gone from the top of the bluff. So Ramon tell us to come here in big launch, to see what you do, an' he say capture you an' bring you back to him. When we get here we find this boat; but two fly away in air-machine, an' only one is left to capture. But Ramon not know if we come before the two fly away or not; he not know if we three, who come to capture, get capture ourselves. So that is what we mus' do. We get capture. You tie up our arms an' our legs an' put gag in our mouth. Then you put us in boat an' take us away to your ship. If Ramon stop us, we say we have been capture. If Ramon see you take us on your ship, he think we have fight hard an' been capture, an' he sorry but not mad. Then, if he take your ship, he set us free; if warship come an' capture Ramon, we safe on your ship an' be hones' men, like you say, an' get reward from Madero. Is it not good way, señor?" Chesty's sentiments wavered between indignation and admiration. Such a combination of low cunning, cowardice and absence of all shame he had never encountered in any being of human origin. But his cue was not to quarrel with the men at this time. It was enough to realize that instead of becoming a prisoner he was to carry his three captors, bound, to the ship, and so deprive Ramon of that many assistants. In the outlaw's big launch, which was anchored just outside the tiny bay in the open sea, were plenty of stout ropes. Francisco waded out and got a supply, and then he proceeded deftly to bind his two comrades, trussing their arms to their bodies and their legs together, so that they were helpless. The fellows grinned with delight at this experience, thinking how cleverly they were fooling Ramon Ganza, and when they were laid side by side on the beach Chesty stuck a lighted cigarette in the mouth of each, to afford them comfort and render them patient. Then Francisco bound his own legs and turned to Mr. Radley-Todd, who at once completed the operation and fastened Francisco's arms to his body--not too tightly, but in a very secure manner. When this was done the big boy breathed a sigh of contentment and set himself down beside his captives. "Now," said Francisco, "you mus' put us in big boat an' go back to ship with us." Chesty shook his head. "Not yet, old man," said he. "Not yet?" "No; I shall wait for night. It will be safe in the darkness." "Then you are 'fraid of Ramon?" "Not much. Just a little." The prisoners wriggled uneasily. "Listen, then, Señor American," observed Francisco. "If we not go before night, then release our bonds--make loose the ropes--so we will rest more easy. When night come you will again tie us up." Mr. Todd was unresponsive. "Too much trouble, Francisco," he remarked, with a yawn. "Why do the work twice?" "But--to lie here all day? San Sebastian, it is too horrible!" "Fortunes of war, my dear boy. Ramon might appear unexpectedly, you know. We made a bargain, to ensure your safety, and we're going to keep it." All three turned their heads to regard him with interest. There were sparks of glowering resentment in their dark eyes. Presently one of them said in humble tones: "With your kind permission, Señor Americaño, I think I will change my mind." "Certainly," replied Chesty; "do anything you please with your mind. It's yours, you know." "I think, then, señor, I will not be your prisoner--until night." "Don't think any such thing. It's wicked of you. Try to guide your thoughts into right channels. Make up your mind to be true to your bargain, because--you have to be." Francisco groaned. "All masters are cruel," he muttered. "This Americaño is as bad as Ramon!" "But he's going to preserve your liberty and keep you out of jail," Chesty reminded him. "And now, boys, try to sleep, for I'm going to take a little walk and stretch my legs." CHAPTER XXV SCUTTLED A modicum of truth had been included in Ramon Ganza's recital of falsehoods during his interview with those on board the yacht. The outlaw was really in a tight place and only by forcing, in some way, the capture of the yacht could he hope to escape in a manner at all agreeable to his requirements. By this time he was fully aware of the situation that confronted him. The flying-machine, if it encountered no accident, would reach the mainland and secure assistance for the stranded Americans. Perhaps it was true that President Madero would send a warship to capture him. Like most fugitive criminals, he had an exaggerated idea of his own importance. In any event he must abandon his island kingdom and seek another hiding place. His first intention--to make everyone of these intruders prisoners and subjects, so they could not betray him--was frustrated by the escape of the two in the aëroplane. It would be useless to capture the others when these two had already carried the news to the authorities who were seeking him. Two courses of procedure were, open to Ganza. One was hastily to outfit his sixty-foot launch and run it to the South Pacific in search of some other island that was uninhabited, taking with him enough men and women to start a new colony. The other was to capture the yacht, put his most cherished possessions on board and then make off in it before any help could arrive from the mainland. The first was by far the most sensible course, but the beauties of the _Salvador_ had so enraptured him and he was so well aware of the value a yacht would prove to him that he could not bring himself to abandon the idea of securing it until the last moment of grace had arrived. This led him to consider how much time remained to him in which to carry out his intentions. He figured that at least thirty-six hours must elapse before any ship could possibly arrive. It was unlikely that the messengers would find a ship prepared to sail at a moment's notice, and therefore three or four days might pass before he would be disturbed by any outside foe. Ramon had hoped to frighten the Americans into surrender and therefore had arranged the little drama so lately enacted; but the finale had disappointed him. There was no mine planted beneath the yacht, but he had instructed one of his men to answer to his call, no matter what name he cried out, and to make the statement to the Americans which he had so cleverly invented. He made a mistake in thinking the flag of truce would protect him, for these strangers were not so simple as he had believed; so he had been forced to attempt a desperate escape, which succeeded because it was so bold and unexpected. Recovering his breath as his white flannels dried upon the rocks, Ramon Ganza carefully considered his next move in the game. The yacht was a glorious prize. He must certainly have it for his own. The people on board seemed unequal to a successful defense. There might be half a dozen determined men among them, but the rest were women and cowards. He laughed as he recalled Mr. Tupper's terror at his threats. The outlaw decided to carry the ship by assault. A night attack would be best. As soon as Francisco returned with the launch he would call his men together and instruct them what to do. Being informed of every movement on the part of the besieged, Ganza was aware that three people had escaped in the small launch to the bluff where the flying-machine lay. As soon as he discovered that the tent was gone he had dispatched Francisco with two men to capture the three, or as many as he could find. When the aëroplane ascended Ganza watched it carefully and decided it contained but two people; therefore Francisco would find the other and presently return. But Francisco failed to put in an appearance, to his master's great annoyance. That old tub of a launch was precious to him, for if all else failed he must use it to make good his escape. Also he needed the three men to assist in boarding the yacht in the night attack. His men were unarmed, while the yacht's crew seemed well provided with weapons of defense. As the day wore on he considered sending the rowboat to search for Francisco's party, but decided not to risk it. Of course Francisco would come, in time; doubtless he was delayed because he experienced difficulty in capturing his man. Evening came, but no Francisco. Ramon Ganza was perplexed; he was even somewhat troubled. He must defer the attack until the launch arrived, for he intended to use it to carry his men to the side of the yacht. His plan was to have the launch run up to one side and make a noisy attack, to create a diversion and concentrate the attention of those on board, while he and a party of picked men stole silently to the other side in the rowboat, climbed to the deck and overcame all who opposed them. The bow was too high to scale, where it rested on the beach; the attack must be made near the stern, which sat low in the water. Therefore the launch was quite necessary, as were the three men who were absent with it, so Ramon was angry with Francisco for not returning more promptly. The outlaw paced up and down the rocks in the starlight and cursed his dilatory lieutenant most heartily. But the launch was coming. In fact, two launches were coming to the bay. As soon as night had really settled down, Mr. Radley-Todd quit loafing and suddenly became active. He carried his trussed and helpless prisoners, one by one, to the small launch and laid them gently along the bottom. He had already, during the afternoon, waded out to the larger launch of Ganza, bored a large hole in its bottom and then stopped the inrushing water with a plug. He chuckled while doing this, being greatly pleased by what he called his "foxy plan to fool the pirate." With his prisoners aboard, the boy shoved the _Salvador's_ launch into the water and cautiously paddled it between the rocks and to the side of the big launch, to which he attached it by means of a rope. "I think I shall gag you boys, as you suggested," he said to the prisoners, who by this time had become sullen and decidedly unfriendly. "No!" cried Francisco, partly in anger and partly in fear; "it is not necessary. We know what to do." "Will you promise not to cry out and attract Ramon's attention?" "We swear it!" they all cried eagerly. "Then I think I shall gag you. Not because I doubt your word but because I've whittled out three lovely gags and I'm anxious to see how they work." They began to protest vigorously at such unkind treatment, but Chesty gagged them, by turns, and they were effectually silenced. "You boys are splendid actors," he told them, admiringly, "and you are performing your parts with great credit to us all. No one would guess this was your plan, would he? Ramon least of all. If we are not captured, you will make an important addition to our party on the yacht. If we are, you will lie gloriously to Ramon and say I sneaked up behind you and sandbagged all three before you saw me. Eh? Never mind answering, for you can't." As he spoke, Chesty climbed into the big launch and started the engines. They grumbled and refused to act, at first, but finally overcame their reluctance and the boat chug-chugged on its way to the south bay, making such a racket that the owls thought it was defying them and redoubled their frantic screeches. "Ramon will be certain to hear me coming," reflected the boy as the boat swept on. "He's a clever scoundrel, that Mexican; exceptionally clever; but if he guesses this riddle he's a wizard." He kept the launch well out from the shore and as it approached the points of rock behind which the yacht lay hidden he set the steering wheel to carry the boat a couple of hundred yards past the entrance to the bay, lashing it firmly in place. Then, while the engines continued their monotonous "chug-chug," he pried the plug out of the bottom of the boat, crept aboard the _Salvador's_ launch and unfastened the rope, cutting the two craft apart. The big launch quickly forged ahead and Chesty sat down and let the smaller boat drift peacefully where it lay. Ramon Ganza had heard his boat coming, as Chesty had intended he should. Greatly relieved, but still angry with Francisco, he ran as far out upon the point as the rocks would permit and peered through the starlight to catch sight of the approaching launch. Presently it appeared, making good time, the old engines working steadily and doing their full duty. But it did not turn into the bay, for some extraordinary reason; instead, it kept straight on and headed for some indefinite point out at sea. "Francisco!" shouted Ganza, in a rage; "Francisco--villain--fool! What are you doing? Wake up, Francisco! The idiot is asleep." As the precious launch did not halt, the outlaw ran along the shore, following its track and shaking his fist at the perverse Francisco with vengeful energy. Most of his men, attracted by their chief's excitement, left their posts to join him on the shore; the others gazed wonderingly in the direction of the disappearing launch. Meantime, Chesty Todd cautiously paddled his little boat into the bay, crept to the side of the yacht and uttered a low whistle--the signal agreed upon. Those on board, who had been interested in Ramon's shouts and suspected something was about to happen, lost no time in lowering the davits and Chesty promptly attached the grappling hooks. A few moments later the launch and its occupants were safely on deck and the boy stepped out to be greeted by hearty handshakes and congratulations on his safe return. "You'll find three prisoners in the launch, Captain Krell," he said. "When you remove their gags they'll protest they are our friends; but I wouldn't trust 'em. Better lock 'em in the cage until this cruel war is over." "What has become of the Mexican's launch?" asked Mr. Cumberford. "The pirates seem to be having some trouble over it." "It won't bother 'em for long," replied Mr. Todd, complacently. "The boat is headed out to sea, all by its lonesome; but there's a hole in the bottom and it's fast filling with salt water. I imagine that within the next fifteen minutes it will go to Davy Jones's locker, and be out of commission." CHAPTER XXVI ORISSA RETURNS If ever man was thoroughly perplexed it was Ramon Ganza the outlaw. He heard his launch proceed for a distance out to sea, then listened while the engines hesitated and stopped, and saw the boat on which his liberty might depend whirl slowly around and disappear beneath the waves. What could it mean? Were his men on board, and had they met with some astonishing accident, or had they deliberately committed suicide? The curses died on his lips; the affair was too startling and too serious for mere raving; he must try to think of a logical solution of the problem. The loss of the launch, his last refuge from captivity and imprisonment, left him caught like a wolf in a trap--in case he failed to get possession of the yacht. All night long he sat on a rock by the sea, smoking his black cheroots and thinking--thinking--thinking. Neither he nor his men knew that Chesty Todd had returned to the yacht; but if Ramon had known it he would not have attached especial importance to the fact. It would merely mean one more person to capture during the assault. Morning found Ganza still deep in thought. He glanced rather uneasily at the ocean and at times swept the horizon with his glasses, which were slung by a strap to his shoulder. His men brought him food and a cup of hot coffee, but dared not speak to him in his present mood. They suspected his case was growing desperate, yet they still retained confidence in their resourceful, clever master, who had never yet failed to accomplish whatever he undertook. In this crisis of his career the fugitive, usually irritable and quick to act, proved his strength of mind by taking time to consider his position from all points and to weigh carefully the merits of the different plans that suggested themselves. He realized that an error at this time would prove fatal. The hours wore on until, at about the middle of the afternoon, as Ganza made one of his periodic inspections of the horizon, his glasses caught a speck in the sky--a speck that moved and grew larger. At first he thought it a gull or an eagle; later he changed his mind, for the speck rapidly increased in size and took form, and the form was that of an aëroplane. Those on the yacht saw it now and great was the wonder and excitement it caused. Here was a messenger from the great world, bringing them hope of succor or black disappointment. Presently the broad spreading planes bore down upon the island and circled gracefully over the ship. "It's Orissa!" they cried in chorus and Chesty Todd added: "She wants to land on deck. Clear a space--quick!" They did the best they could. It seemed like a tiny place for that great sweeping thing to land on and even Sybil exclaimed: "She'll never make it in the world!" But Orissa, hovering above them in her Aircraft, observed carefully the conditions below and shutting off her engine began to volplane. The huge machine settled quietly down and alighted fairly upon the deck. One rail caught the lower plane and tipped it, but the girl leaped lightly from her seat and was caught by Mr. Cumberford, whose gray eyes sparkled with joy from behind their spectacles. You may be sure the brave girl received a glad welcome, but as soon as her safety was assured she was deluged with questions. The ping of a rifle ball warned them to scuttle below to the cabin, where Orissa tried to explain. "Why on earth did you venture to come back?" demanded Madeline. "We had told ourselves that you, at least, were safe from the dangers that menace us, and it pleased us to know that. But where is your brother?" "Did you get to land?" cried half a dozen voices, eagerly. "What did you do? Tell us!" Orissa laughed and held up both hands, imploring silence. "I came to bring you good news," she began. "And now that you are assured of that, please let me tell the story my own way, or I shall bungle it." "Go ahead," they answered and settled themselves to listen. "We followed the route Captain Krell had mapped out for us," said Orissa, "and in four hours after leaving here we sighted the Mexican coast. Fifteen minutes' run to the north brought us to the village of San Blas, where there is a telegraph office. We landed and had some difficulty in satisfying the authorities that we were harmless Americans, but finally they agreed to escort us to the telegraph office under guard. We wired our story direct to President Madero, putting it as briefly as possible and asking him for a warship to rescue our friends and capture Ramon Ganza. There was no answer until evening, when we received a message from the Secretary of the Navy saying he had conferred with the President and Secretary of State and would be glad to accede to our request. In eight or ten days he thought he could spare a warship to go to the island for Ganza. Unfortunately, the entire navy was in use at the present time. "That dashed our hopes, you may be sure, for we feared you couldn't hold Ganza at bay for so long; so Steve and I determined to fly to San Diego and secure help there. The Secretary of the Navy had wired the authorities of San Blas to afford us every consideration and hospitality, so we filled our tanks with gasoline and slept at a little inn until daybreak. Then we were off for the north, and in two hours met the United States torpedo fleet, on its way to Magdalena Bay for target practice. We made out the flagship and dropped to the water beside it. Commodore Davis at once laid to and sent a boat to us. Steve went aboard and explained fully to the commodore our story and the need for immediate help. As a result the _Mermaid_ was signaled and its captain presently came aboard and received his orders. He was to take us directly to this island, drive off Ganza or fight him, as circumstances might require, and then assist in getting the _Salvador_ afloat again. If he captures Ganza he is to carry him away a prisoner and turn him and his men over to the Mexican authorities at Magdalena. "Captain Swanson undertook the adventure gladly and is now on his way here with the _Mermaid_, with Steve to guide him. My brother and I thought it best for me to come on ahead and tell you the good news, for we have worried about you and knew that with rescue at hand you would have courage to hold out, no matter how desperate your condition. So here I am, and the _Mermaid_ will arrive either to-night or early in the morning." They were indeed delighted with this assurance and it put new heart into the most timorous of those aboard. "However," said Chesty Todd, "we seem to be in no danger, just now, and since our clever enemy has failed to scare us into surrender he has remained quiet and behaved himself as well as could be expected." They told Orissa all that had transpired in her absence and the conversation continued all during the dinner--on which the chef exercised his best talents, in honor of Orissa's return--and even until bedtime, there was so much to say. Chesty went on watch at eleven o'clock, and as he leaned silently over the rail at a point near the bow of the launch he detected a series of queer sounds coming from below. This part of the yacht was high on the shelving beach and it was here that they had arranged huge piles of rock, on either side, to hold the keel level. It sounded to Mr. Todd as if some one was at work near these rocks, for on account of the swell of the boat's side it was impossible to see, from the deck, anyone below, in case he kept close to the keel. So Chesty crept aft, held a whispered conversation with Captain Krell, and quickly divested himself of his clothing. At the stern, which was settled quite close to the surface of the water, the boy let himself down by means of a rope, descending hand under hand, and silently dropped into the dark water. Swimming was one of Radley-Todd's principal accomplishments and he scarcely made a ripple as he crept alongside the boat until the bow came into full view. The night was somewhat darker than usual, but the American had sharp eyes and it did not take him long to discover that the besiegers were employed in removing the rocks from the right hand side of the keel. Instantly comprehending their purpose in this, Chesty turned and quickly regained the stern, climbing to the deck. His report to Captain Krell seemed so serious, because it meant a desperate attack presently, that it was promptly decided to arouse the entire party and warn them that a crisis was at hand. CHAPTER XXVII FACING THE CRISIS Consternation reigned in the cabin when the principals assembled there with white and startled faces. On deck Captain Krell was instructing his men how to act in the threatened emergency. Pietro was among them, accepting his rifle and his instructions willingly, but shaking his head at what he considered a vain attempt to resist Ramon Ganza. "Ramon great man!" he said to Captain Krell. "Ramon always win; nobody can conquer him. I knew Ramon would win this time, an' when he does he will capture me an' whip me hard. All right; I know I am to be whipped at the time Chica tell me to leave Ramon. Never min'. Pietro can stand it, for others have been whipped by Ramon an' lived--with marks like a zebra's on their skins." In the cabin Chesty was trying to explain the situation. "It's this way," he said; "when the rocks are all removed the yacht will fall over on her side, as she was at first, with the rail quite near to the water. You remember how she lay before we propped her up. Well, that means we have no secure footing on deck and that the pirates can easily climb aboard and have the best of the argument. If we slip, we fall into their arms; if we stick to the deck--like flies to a ceiling, they'll rush and get us." "We can't fight from the deck," declared Cumberford. "Tell Captain Krell to come here." The captain arrived and after a consultation it was decided to gather all hands in the cabin and fortify it as strongly as possible. The roof projected a few feet above the deck and there was a row of small windows on either side, but these were supplied with heavy shutters designed for use in case of storms, when the shutters were readily fixed in place. The stairway might be well guarded by one man, and above the windows were small ventilators through which several rifles could be pointed. By standing upon the cabin table the defenders could command the deck in this way. They were instructed not to shoot, however, unless absolutely obliged to. All the hatches were battened down, so that if Ganza gained the deck he could not get below and was welcome to remain aboard until the rescuers arrived. Orissa, who had listened silently, now approached Mr. Cumberford and said: "When the yacht tips, our Aircraft will be ruined, for the chances are it will slide overboard. Even if it doesn't, those scoundrels will wreck it completely, for it will be quite at their mercy. So I've decided, while there is yet time, to fly it across to the bluff, where I can remain until you are rescued." "Can you manage to get away from the deck?" "Easily." "Then I think it best for you to go." "May I take Sybil with me?" He hesitated a moment; then replied: "Yes. It will be a good thing to have you girls away from here when the attack is made. Here you could be of no service whatever, and your absence will--eh--give us more room to defend the cabin." "You will have to act quickly, Miss Kane," suggested Chesty. "I know. Come, Sybil." They drew on their jackets as they went on deck, both girls realizing that no time must be lost if they hoped to get away. Once the yacht tipped on her side it would be impossible to fly the machine. As they took their places Mr. Radley-Todd inquired: "Plenty of gasoline?" "I think so," said Orissa. "I'm not sure how much is left in the tanks, but it ought to be enough to get us to the bluff. Whirl the propeller, Chesty." He did so, and the engine started with a roar. Cumberford and Chesty steadied the Aircraft until the motor had acquired full speed and then Orissa threw in the clutch and the big aëroplane rose as easily as a bird takes flight and ascended into the starlit sky at a steep angle. This feat is what is called "cloud climbing" and Orissa understood it perfectly. It seemed a bold thing to undertake such a flight in the nighttime, but the Flying Girl's friends had so much confidence in her skill that they never considered the danger of the undertaking. Across the barren island to the bluff was so unimportant a flight to one of Orissa's experience that when she was once away they believed her quite safe. While the men stood watching the Aircraft mount into the dim sky the yacht suddenly trembled and keeled over, throwing them all flat upon the deck. With one accord they scrambled up and dashed into the cabin, which they reached just as Ramon Ganza and his men swarmed over the rail. CHAPTER XXVIII THE PRISONER "What's wrong, Ris?" asked Sybil, as the engine skipped and wavered. "Gasoline," was the brief answer. "Oh. Can you get to the bluff?" "I--don't--know. There!" as the propeller ceased to whirl; "now I'll volplane. It's a long reach, Syb; but we'll land somewhere--right side up." The dim mountain seemed far ahead of them; below was the "dip," or valley, which lay between the rock ridges and the mountain. As they had casually glanced toward it in former times, it seemed a forbidding place, slimy and moist, devoid alike of any green thing or living creature. Even the owls shunned the "dip." To-night, when everything was obscure, they seemed gliding into a black pit. Orissa had to manipulate her levers cautiously, for she could not tell just when they would reach the ground. As it was they bumped, bounded forward, bumped again and brought up suddenly between two boulders that topped a rugged knoll. "Any damage?" asked Sybil, catching her breath. "Not much, I'm sure," replied her chum. "But here we are; and here we'll stay until some one comes with gasoline. Can you see anything, Syb?" "The mountain, over there against the sky. It seems so near I could almost touch it. It wouldn't have taken but a few drops more to have landed us on the bluff, drat the luck!" "See anything else?" "Where?" "Around us." "No; but I can smell something. Smells like spoiled gasoline. Does gasoline ever spoil, Ris?" "Not to my knowledge. But come; let's crawl into the boat and get the blankets out. Wherever we are, it's our hotel, and we must make the best of it." Skyward, there could be distinguished the mountain at the west and the rock hills at the east; but the pocket in which they lay was black as ink. From the boat Orissa managed to open the aluminum chest and take out the blankets. They then arranged a temporary bed in the bottom of the boat and covered themselves up. "Anyhow, I managed to save the Aircraft," sighed Orissa, contentedly. Then she sat bolt upright and cried: "Listen!" "The battle's on," answered Sybil, as a succession of wild shouts reached their ears. It was very aggravating to be so ignorant of what was happening to their friends. The shouts continued, at intervals, but there was no sound of firearms. Evidently the Mexicans had gained the deck but had found it a barren victory. On the mountain the owls were hooting and flying about as usual, but the shouts that had come from the bay were of such a different nature that the shrieks of the night-birds did not drown them. Suddenly a broad streak of light shot over them, rested a moment on the mountain, swayed to right and left and then sank below the ridges of rock. Above the bay where the _Salvador_ was beached thin shafts of white light radiated, illuminating the sky like an aurora borealis. "A searchlight!" "The torpedo boat!" the girls cried in one breath; and then they sat trembling and straining their ears to listen. A dull, angry "boom!" rent the air and echoed from the mountain. It was a warning gun from the _Mermaid_. The shouts became screams of fear. Then silence followed, complete and enduring. Orissa breathed heavily. "It's all over, Sybil!" she gasped. "I--I wonder if--anyone was--hurt." "Any of our people?" "Of course." "I think not. That gun was merely a signal and I imagine the Mexicans ran like rats. How fortunate it was that Captain Swanson arrived with the _Mermaid_ so soon!" "How unfortunate he didn't come sooner. We wouldn't have been in this awkward predicament. It will take them hours to get to us over those sharp rocks." Orissa did not reply. She was trying to understand the events transpiring around the _Salvador_. Had there been a tragedy? Or had the torpedo boat merely frightened the outlaws, as she had imagined, and driven them away? There was no sleep for the isolated girls during the brief hours preceding the dawn. As it gradually lightened they peered about them to see where they were, and by degrees made out their surroundings. There were fewer rocks in this cup-shaped hollow than in other parts of the island. On the knoll where the Aircraft rested were the two big rocks which had arrested its progress, and between these the body of the aluminum boat was tightly wedged. At intervals throughout the valley were similar rocky hummocks, but all the space between consisted of an oozy, damp soil of a greenish-brown color, with glints of red where the sun caught it prismatically. Looking at this ooze critically, as the light strengthened, it seemed to the girls to shift somewhat, showing here and there a thick bubble which slowly formed and disappeared. Orissa put her hand over the side of the boat and withdrew it again. "Look, Sybil," she exclaimed. "It's oil." "Hair or salad oil, Ris?" Orissa sniffed at her dipped finger. "Petroleum. This is the crude article, and seeps up from some store of oil far down in the earth. There would be a fortune in this find, Syb, if it happened to be in America. Out here it is, of course, valueless." "Don't they make kerosene and gasoline of it?" "Yes; of course." "Then make some gasoline and let's fly away." Orissa laughed. "If you will furnish the distillery, Syb, I'll make the gasoline," she said; "but I believe it's a long, slow process, and----" "Look!" cried Sybil, with a start, as she pointed a slim finger toward the east. From a far distant ridge a man came bounding over the rocks, leaping from one to another with little hesitation in picking his way. He was a big man, but as the light was still dim they could see no more than his huge form. Presently he paused to look behind him; then on he dashed again. He had come from the direction of the bay and was at first headed toward the mountain, but in one of his pauses, whether to regain his breath or look behind, he caught sight of the aëroplane and at once turned directly toward it. "Do you think," asked Sybil, uneasily, "it is one of our people come to look for us?" "No," returned Orissa, positively. "That man is a fugitive. He has escaped over the rock hills and is trying to find some hiding place." "Then I wonder he dares come in our direction." "It is _strange_," agreed Orissa, with a shudder as she remembered how helpless they were. Then, with fascinated gaze, the two girls fell silent and watched the approaching fugitive. As he neared that part of the valley where the oil seeped up he proceeded more cautiously, leaping from one point of rock--or hummock--to another. Once, when forced to step on the level ground, the oil tripped him. He slipped and fell, but was instantly up again and bounding on his way. It seemed no easy task to make speed over such a rough and trackless way, yet here it was easier to proceed than back in those almost impassable hills. It was wonderful that he had succeeded in crossing them at all. "I think," said Orissa, as she sat cold and staring, "it is Ramon Ganza." "The outlaw? But he wears white flannels." "Not now. He probably changed them for the night attack; but I can see the rings glitter on his fingers, and--none of the other Mexicans is so big." Sybil nestled a little closer to her friend. "Have you a revolver, Ris?" Orissa shook her head. "No arms at all--not even a hatpin?" "Nothing whatever to use for defense." The man was quite near now. Yes; it was Ramon Ganza. His clothes were torn by the rocks and hung around him in rags, and where he had fallen the thick, slimy oil clung to them. His face was smeared with dust and grime and the whole aspect of the outlaw was ghastly and repulsive--perhaps rendered more acute by the jewelled rings that loaded his fingers. He was obliged to step with more care as he neared the aëroplane, in which crouched the two girls, and finally he came to a halt on a hummock a few paces away. The oil lay more thickly around the Aircraft than elsewhere, and Ramon Ganza eyed it suspiciously. Then he spoke, resting his hands on his hips and leering insolently at Sybil and Orissa. "So, I have caught you, then," he cried. "Why did you try to escape?" "For the same reason you are trying to escape, perhaps," retorted Orissa, summoning what courage she could command. "But I warn you that our friends will presently come for us, and--you may not care to meet them." He uttered an angry snarl and cast a quick glance around the valley. In all its broad stretch not a person other than themselves was visible. Ramon sat down on his knoll, breathing heavily from his long run. "Yes, I have run away," he admitted, bitterness and hate in his tone. "I can fight ten--or twenty, perhaps--with my single hand; but not fifty. They have come to put me in prison, those fiends over there," jerking his thumb toward the bay, "and seeing they were too strong for me to oppose, I came away. It is what you call discreet--eh?--which is more safe, if less noble, than valor. But they have the island and they will hunt me down. And once more I shall laugh at them--once more Ramon Ganza will defy them all!" "How?" asked Orissa, curiously. "Have you not the flying-machine--the airship?" he asked, simply. "And are you not here alone, and in my power? It carries but two, I see, so one of you shall stay here. The other must fly with me to my own island, where I will take a sailboat and--vanish from the dogs who are hounding me." "That," said Orissa, with forced calmness, for her heart was beating wildly, "is impossible." He uttered a fierce growl. "It is _not_ impossible," he cried. "I have seen your machine fly, and know it can fly when you want it to. It must fly now, or by San Filippe I will tumble you both out and fly it myself. It is best that you not arouse my anger, for Ramon Ganza is desperate and will not be denied. Get ready, girl! We will fly to my island, or----" He laughed harshly. "Or you will both ruin your beautiful toilets, and--the mire is dangerous," he added. "We have no gasoline," pleaded Orissa. "Pah! a trick to deceive me." "No; it is true," cried Sybil, who grew more quiet as fear possessed her. He hesitated, a look of despair flashing across his features. Then he said with grim determination: "I will see for myself," and stepped recklessly into the pool of oil that lay between him and the hummock where the aëroplane perched. The slime reached to his ankle, but he kept doggedly on. The second step sent him knee-deep into the ooze and he had to struggle to wade farther in. But now he sank nearly to his waist and the sticky soil held him fast. Then suddenly the man seemed to realize his peril and uttered a shrill cry of terror. "Help, young ladies! For the love of humanity--help! Will you see me die like this?" he screamed. Orissa and Sybil, both horrified, had risen to their feet. The sinking outlaw was fully five yards distant and there seemed no possible way to aid him. But it was terrible to allow a human being to perish in such a way, even when it was a confessed enemy who stood in peril. Orissa caught up a blanket and hurled it toward him, and he seized it eagerly and spread it around him for support. Next moment Sybil had hastily folded the second blanket and cast it with all her strength toward Ganza. One corner he caught and in a moment had added it to the first, now becoming saturated with oil. Yet the blankets would not have availed much had not Ramon's feet now rested upon a rock far beneath the surface, effectually preventing him from sinking any lower. Almost waist-deep in the putty-like mire he stood a fast prisoner, for no effort of his own could enable him to free himself. He realized, presently, that he was not fated to be entombed in the mire, so part of his old assurance returned to him. As he stared at the girls and they returned his gaze with horrified looks, he remarked: "Well, I am caught, as you see; but it was no officer of the law that did it. Ramon Ganza can defy mankind, as he has often proved, but he bows to Nature. Also, young ladies, I beg to point out that--if you have spoken truly--you are likewise caught, and alas! we cannot assist one another. What, then, shall we do for amusement?" "I think," said Sybil gravely, "you ought to pray." "I? I have forgotten how. What then? Shall we sing songs? If you will accompany the chorus I will delight your ears with my excellent tenor voice." This bravado, coming from a man stuck fast in the mire, was so gruesome that it made the girls shudder with aversion. But Sybil, happening to glance up, cried with sudden animation: "Look, Orissa!" and pointed with a trembling finger. In the distance a group of men had appeared over the edge of the rock hills. They saw the stalled aëroplane and waved their arms encouragingly. Ganza screwed his head around with some difficulty and also observed the rescue party. "It cannot matter," he said coolly. "As well one prison as another, and no Mexican dungeon could hug me tighter than this." He fell silent, however, and no further remarks were exchanged as the distant party drew nearer. They were forced by the treacherous nature of the valley to move cautiously and when they entered the area of oil seepage more than one slipped in the slimy pools. But gradually they approached the spot where the aëroplane rested and now Orissa and Sybil could make out Stephen Kane, Mr. Cumberford, Captain Krell, Chesty Todd and an unknown man in uniform, who were accompanied by several seamen. The girls stood up and waved their handkerchiefs and then cried out warnings to beware the mire. Not until the rescuers were quite near to the place did they perceive the upper half of Ramon Ganza protruding from the imprisoning slime. "Dear me," cried Mr. Cumberford; "this is interesting; very! How are you, girls? All right?" Through the bombardment of eager questions they assured their friends that they had suffered no serious discomfort because of the accident to the Aircraft. "But," added Sybil, "we had a good fright when Ramon Ganza threatened us, unless we assisted him to escape in our aëroplane. Fortunately the mire came to our assistance, for he stepped into a soft place and it held him fast--as you see." All eyes turned upon the helpless outlaw, who nodded his head with astonishing nonchalance. "I bid you good morning, señors," said he. "When you are sufficiently rested from your walk, be kind enough to pull me out of this loving embrace; but gently, or you may dislocate my bones." "Who is this?" asked the officer in uniform, a fine featured young man. "The rascal who has so boldly annoyed us, regardless of consequences," replied Cumberford, frowning upon the Mexican. "He escaped us last night, but we have him now, sure enough, and I intend to see he is handed over to the authorities of his country, whose laws he has defied." "What did he do?" the officer inquired, gazing at Ganza curiously. "Permit me to explain that I robbed a bank--a bank engaged in robbing others under government sanction," said Ganza. "To rob is a small thing, señors; but it is a crime to be discovered robbing. That was my fault. Others in my native land, who are more successful embezzlers than I, are to-day respected, rich and happy." "Was that your only crime?" "So far as is known, señor. Otherwise I am very good man and quite respectable." "He is a tyrant and a bully, and whips his men if they disobey him," declared Steve. "Pah! they are curs. The whip is less than they deserve," retorted Ganza. "But permit me to remind you of my present discomfort, señors. I will gladly exchange this bog for a Mexican prison." They managed to drag him out, none too gently, and the seamen scraped the oily slime from his legs and body so that he could stand erect. Then they turned to examine the condition of the aëroplane. CHAPTER XXIX ORISSA DECIDES Only by taking the Aircraft entirely apart, decided Steve, might he hope to remove it to the bay, for it could not be flown from the hummock where it was wedged between the rocks. But they could not wait to do that now. The girls were very near one of those feminine crises so familiar to Mrs. Tupper, and their friends realized the nervous strain they had endured and made haste to lead them back to the yacht. The seamen looked after Ramon Ganza, who was so physically exhausted by his late experience that he made no endeavor to escape. It was a tedious climb, by no means devoid of danger, but so anxious were Orissa and Sybil to escape from the dread valley that they energetically persevered until the last rock hill was passed and they descended the slope to the inlet. There lay the _Salvador_; keeled over, indeed, but safe and sound. Just without the bay floated the _Mermaid_, and one of her boats was run upon the beach and another clung to the _Salvador's_ side. A hearty cheer greeted the return of the rescue party when Orissa and Sybil were observed approaching with them, and Captain Swanson himself came forward to offer his congratulations. On their way, Steve had briefly related the events of the night attack and told how the defenders, fortified within the cabin and below decks, had been quite safe from Ganza until the arrival of the torpedo boat relieved the situation. Then the Mexicans fled and made frantic attempts to escape, hiding themselves in the wilderness of rocks that littered the island. When Captain Swanson learned of the capture of Ramon Ganza and the rescue of the young ladies he decided to attempt no pursuit of the scattered Mexicans but to apply himself promptly to the task of floating the yacht, which he succeeded in doing before night. The _Salvador_ was in no way injured and as soon as she had anchored outside the bay was again in commission and fully able to care for herself. Madeline invited the officers of the _Mermaid_ to dine aboard her yacht and Monsieur Risette prepared a repast that surprised even his employer, so elaborate and delicious it proved. As they conversed together afterward, commenting upon the exciting experiences of the yacht and her company and the daring flights of the Kane Hydro-Aircraft, Madeline said to Captain Swanson: "What shall we do with Ramon Ganza?" "Where is he, Miss Dentry?" "Locked up in our cage. But I don't want him aboard. Won't you take him to Magdalena and turn him over to the Mexican police?" "I am not sure I have authority to arrest the man," replied the captain gravely. "I will send a wireless to the fleet to-night and endeavor to get the admiral and receive his instructions concerning Ganza." He wrote out a message at once and dispatched it to his ship by one of his men, that the wireless operator aboard might repeat it a number of times in the attempt to reach the ship for which it was intended. A wireless message travels farther by night and is more distinct. Madeline now urged Captain Swanson to carry Chica and Pietro to Magdalena, which would enable them to reach their homes quickly and he agreed to do this. Miss Dentry supplied the two with sufficient money for their needs and the Red-beard and the child said their good-byes and were rowed to the _Mermaid_. The yacht party, now reunited and safe from further molestation, thoroughly enjoyed the evening and expressed their gratitude again and again for the prompt assistance rendered them by their fellow countrymen. Madeline had already written a nice letter to the admiral, which she entrusted to Captain Swanson. As Orissa and Sybil, as well as many others of the party, had passed a trying and sleepless night, the officers thoughtfully retired early, returning to their quarters on the _Mermaid_. Breakfast was in progress on the _Salvador_ next morning when a note was brought from the captain of the torpedo boat. "I was fortunate in reaching the admiral," it said, "and I beg to enclose you a copy of the message I have received from him in reply. I further regret to state that I am ordered to rejoin the fleet without delay and must therefore bid you all adieu." The wireless read: "President Madero proclaimed a general amnesty to Mexican refugees some three months ago. On the list of pardons appears the name of Ramon Ganza." Madeline drew a long breath. "I'm sorry for that," she said. "Ramon Ganza has escaped the penalty of breaking his country's laws and we are powerless to punish him ourselves--even though he struck poor Mason with a knife." "How is Mason getting along?" asked Orissa. "Very nicely," stated Mr. Cumberford. "It was a deep cut, but reached no vital organs and the man will soon be as good as new." "That does not alter the fact that Ganza is a wicked desperado," said Sybil. "It's a shame to allow him to escape," exclaimed Mr. Tupper, indignantly. "Can't we arrest him for disturbing the peace, and trying to capture our yacht, and attempting to murder one of the crew?" "No," replied Mr. Cumberford. "This island doesn't belong to the United States. I believe it is Mexican territory. But if we can prove damages we might be able to recover from the Mexican government--and then, again, we might not." "I'll never put in a claim, for my part," said Madeline, laughing. "But what are we to do with Ramon Ganza--and those three rascals imprisoned with him, whom Chesty captured and brought to us?" "Let Chesty get rid of them; they're his prisoners," suggested Sybil. "The chief bandit is your own prisoner--and Orissa's," declared Chesty. "What do you intend to do with him, Miss Cumberford?" Sybil laughed. "It's a problem," she confessed. "Can you solve it, Miss Dentry?" "I fear not," answered Madeline, indeed puzzled. "Our prisoners are likely to prove white elephants on our hands. To carry them to America would involve us in endless difficulties, and--I have other plans, wherein their presence is better dispensed with." "Then," said Chesty, after due reflection, "let us leave them all behind us, on the island. Not this island, where they would be prisoners and perhaps starve, because I have sunk their gasoline launch and they cannot get away, but on Ramon Ganza's own island. Then the fellow may decide his future as he deems best and we may wash our hands of the whole disagreeable affair." "I hope you won't inform him that he is pardoned," said Mr. Tupper, earnestly. "Why not?" asked Madeline. "Let us return good for evil. Perhaps, when Ramon Ganza is no longer a refugee and can face the world a free man, he will redeem his past and become honest." "I doubt it," declared Mr. Cumberford; "but I think you are right to give him the chance." It was so decided. There remained on Owl Island but one of Ganza's rowboats which would be available for use by the men hidden among the rocks, but at the larger island was a small sailboat in which, during calm weather, the chief might go for his men and transport them to their former quarters. Next morning a party accompanied Steve into the valley once more, where the Aircraft was taken apart and brought with considerable labor to the bay, from whence it was conveyed to the yacht and compactly stored away below decks. "There's no use putting it together until we get back home," said the inventor; and his partner, Mr. Cumberford, agreed with him. This task had consumed the entire day, during which Orissa and Sybil had kept to their state-rooms, trying to quiet their nerves and get some much-needed sleep. Madeline, in the meantime, had ordered a store of provisions placed on the beach for the use of the band of Mexicans until they were rescued by their leader, as she did not wish them to suffer for lack of food, however mischievous and lawless they might be. The following day Captain Krell hoisted anchor and headed for the larger island, and it was good to all to feel the water slipping along underneath the _Salvador's_ thin keel again. Ramon Ganza accepted his liberty with the same stoical indifference that characterized all his actions. He strutted a bit when Chesty told him of his pardon, but declared he would continue to inhabit the island where he was virtually a king. "With no fear of a prison to haunt me," he said, "I can make the island a paradise. Many Mexicans will settle there and become my subjects." "You'll have to cut out the flogging, then," suggested Chesty. "It will gratify me to do so. Before, I have the obligation to flog the disobedient ones because I dared not send them away; but now, if they prove obstinate, I may send them back to Mexico." He took off his hat with an elaborate bow as the _Salvador's_ boat left him standing with his three men on the little dock below his residence; but Francisco and the other two scowled fiercely at Mr. Todd, whom they reproached for deceiving them about Madero's reward, although they had elected to remain with their old master rather than be taken to America. "It's a good thing for civilization that those villains are sequestrated on a far-away, unknown island," remarked Chesty, when he had regained the yacht's deck. "I suppose anyone can reform, if he tries hard, but I'll bet a hat that Francisco and his comrades never make the attempt." "We are well rid of them, in any event," asserted Mr. Cumberford. Orissa and Sybil appeared at dinner, both considerably improved in spirits after their long rest. "When do we sail for San Diego?" Sybil asked Madeline. "Captain Krell is ready. I am waiting for Orissa and you to decide," was the reply. Orissa looked up in surprise. "What have we to decide?" she inquired. "Merely which way we shall proceed. My yacht hasn't had a fair trial yet and I had in mind a trip to Honolulu before we went in chase of two runaway girls. We still have on board enough coal and supplies for such a trip and I have resolved to invite you all to make it in my company--in which case we will head directly for Hawaii from here." Orissa was thoughtful for a time and looked inquiringly at Steve, who smiled in return. "I think such a trip would do us all good," he suggested. "The Flying Girl has no important engagements, at present," added Mr. Todd, the press agent. "If she had, I think she deserves a little recreation after her late trying experiences," said Mr. Cumberford. "Why, Orissa, it has all been decided in advance," exclaimed Sybil. "They're merely asking our consent out of politeness." Orissa turned to Madeline and pressed her hand gratefully. "You've really been our guardian angel, Miss Dentry," she said. "We can never repay your great kindness and generosity, nor properly thank you for what you have done for us." "Why should you?" asked Madeline. "Think what a splendid time I've had during this adventure, all due to the Flying Girl and her chum--and to a defect in the famous Kane Aircraft. But if you sincerely wish to please me, come with me on the trip to Honolulu." "Of course I will," Orissa responded. "I've always longed for an ocean voyage, and in such company, and on the dear old _Salvador_, the trip will be delightful." The others of the Kane-Cumberford party, who were every one eager to go, rapturously applauded this decision. THE END. * * * * * =_Exhilarating Books for Girls of Today_= The Flying Girl Series _By_ EDITH VAN DYNE _Author of "Aunt Jane's Nieces" Series_ Capital up-to-the-minute stories for girls and young people, in which the author is at her very best. Thrilling and full of adventure, but of that wholesome type parents are glad to put in the hands of their daughters. Two titles: The Flying Girl Orissa Kane, self-reliant and full of sparkling good nature, under-study for her brother, prospective inventor and aviator whose experiments put the Kane family into great difficulties, in the crisis proves resourceful and plucky, and saves the day in a most thrilling manner. [Illustration] The Flying Girl and Her Chum This story takes Orissa and her friend Sybil through further adventures that test these two clever girls to the limit. A remarkably well told story. _12mo. Bound in extra cloth with design stamping on cover and fancy jacket. Printed on high grade paper. Illustrated in black and white._ _Price 60 cents each. Postage 12 cents._ Publishers The Reilly & Britton Co. Chicago * * * * * =_Books for Older Children by L. Frank Baum_= The Daring Twins Series _By_ L. FRANK BAUM In writing "The Daring Twins Series" Mr. Baum yielded to the hundreds of requests that have been made of him by youngsters, both boys and girls, who in their early childhood read and loved his famous "Oz" books, to write a story for young folk of the ages between twelve and eighteen. [Illustration] =A story of the real life of real boys and girls in a real family under real conditions= _Two Titles:_ =The Daring Twins= = Phoebe Daring= While preparing these books Mr. Baum lived with his characters. They have every element of the drama of life as it begins within the lives of children. The two stories are a mixture of the sublime and the ridiculous; the foibles and fancies of childhood, interspersed with humor and pathos. _Price 75 cents net each_ Publishers The Reilly & Britton Co. Chicago * * * * * ANNABEL _By_ SUSANNE METCALF A girls' book with a clever, quick-moving plot is unusual. ANNABEL is that kind. The heroine is a lovable girl, but one with plenty of snap--her red hair testifies to that. Her friend, Will Carden, too, is a boy of unusual qualities, as is apparent in everything he does. He and Annabel make an excellent team. [Illustration] The two, the best of chums, retrieve the fortunes of the Carden family in a way that makes some exciting situations. The secret of the mysterious Mr. Jordan is surprised by Annabel, while Will, in a trip to England with an unexpected climax, finds the real fortune of the Cardens. ANNABEL is a book whose make-up is in keeping with the high quality of the story. _Beautiful cover and jacket in colors, 12 mo._ _Illustrated by Joseph Pierre Nuyttens. Price 60 cents_ Publishers The Reilly & Britton Co. Chicago * * * * * =Popular Memory Books for Girls= =My Golden School Days= _By_ JANET MADISON A Very attractive memory book for girls, in which they can keep a record of happy school days. There are places and departments for every item of interest--classmates, colors, yell, photographs, autographs, dances, etc. Appropriate decorations and headings for each department, with verses and poems. In special box. Two bindings. _Half Cloth, 60 cents. Swiss Velvet Ooze, $1.25_ * * * * * My Sorority _Designed by_ LOUISE PERRETT A complete and cleverly designed memory book for girls who are members of the well-known "Greek Letter" Societies in high school or college. A record book with appropriately decorated headings for name, colors, secret motto, pin, grip, initiation, spreads, banquets, etc. In three styles. _Cloth, $1.50. Swiss Velvet Ooze, $2.50_ _De Luxe, Flexible Morocco, $3.00_ Publishers The Reilly & Britton Co. Chicago Transcriber's Note: Italics are indicated by _underscores_. Bolds are indicated by =equal signs=. Small capitals have been rendered in full capitals. A number of minor spelling errors have been corrected without note. 
646	----	Transcribed from the 1884 Thomas Nelson and Sons edition by David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org {Book cover: cover.jpg} The Coral Island: A Tale of the Pacific Ocean {A coral island: p0.jpg} BY ROBERT MICHAEL BALLANTYNE, AUTHOR OF "HUDSON'S BAY; OR, EVERY-DAY LIFE IN THE WILDS OF NORTH AMERICA; "SNOW-FLAKES AND SUN-BEAMS; OR, THE YOUNG FUR-TRADERS;" "UNGAVA: A TALE OF THE ESQUIMAUX," ETC., ETC. WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY DALZIEL. London: THOMAS NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW. EDINBURGH; AND NEW YORK. 1884. Preface I was a boy when I went through the wonderful adventures herein set down. With the memory of my boyish feelings strong upon me, I present my book specially to boys, in the earnest hope that they may derive valuable information, much pleasure, great profit, and unbounded amusement from its pages. One word more. If there is any boy or man who loves to be melancholy and morose, and who cannot enter with kindly sympathy into the regions of fun, let me seriously advise him to shut my book and put it away. It is not meant for him. RALPH ROVER CHAPTER I. The beginning--My early life and character--I thirst for adventure in foreign lands and go to sea. Roving has always been, and still is, my ruling passion, the joy of my heart, the very sunshine of my existence. In childhood, in boyhood, and in man's estate, I have been a rover; not a mere rambler among the woody glens and upon the hill-tops of my own native land, but an enthusiastic rover throughout the length and breadth of the wide wide world. It was a wild, black night of howling storm, the night in which I was born on the foaming bosom of the broad Atlantic Ocean. My father was a sea-captain; my grandfather was a sea-captain; my great-grandfather had been a marine. Nobody could tell positively what occupation _his_ father had followed; but my dear mother used to assert that he had been a midshipman, whose grandfather, on the mother's side, had been an admiral in the royal navy. At anyrate we knew that, as far back as our family could be traced, it had been intimately connected with the great watery waste. Indeed this was the case on both sides of the house; for my mother always went to sea with my father on his long voyages, and so spent the greater part of her life upon the water. Thus it was, I suppose, that I came to inherit a roving disposition. Soon after I was born, my father, being old, retired from a seafaring life, purchased a small cottage in a fishing village on the west coast of England, and settled down to spend the evening of his life on the shores of that sea which had for so many years been his home. It was not long after this that I began to show the roving spirit that dwelt within me. For some time past my infant legs had been gaining strength, so that I came to be dissatisfied with rubbing the skin off my chubby knees by walking on them, and made many attempts to stand up and walk like a man; all of which attempts, however, resulted in my sitting down violently and in sudden surprise. One day I took advantage of my dear mother's absence to make another effort; and, to my joy, I actually succeeded in reaching the doorstep, over which I tumbled into a pool of muddy water that lay before my father's cottage door. Ah, how vividly I remember the horror of my poor mother when she found me sweltering in the mud amongst a group of cackling ducks, and the tenderness with which she stripped off my dripping clothes and washed my dirty little body! From this time forth my rambles became more frequent, and, as I grew older, more distant, until at last I had wandered far and near on the shore and in the woods around our humble dwelling, and did not rest content until my father bound me apprentice to a coasting vessel, and let me go to sea. For some years I was happy in visiting the sea-ports, and in coasting along the shores of my native land. My Christian name was Ralph, and my comrades added to this the name of Rover, in consequence of the passion which I always evinced for travelling. Rover was not my real name, but as I never received any other I came at last to answer to it as naturally as to my proper name; and, as it is not a bad one, I see no good reason why I should not introduce myself to the reader as Ralph Rover. My shipmates were kind, good-natured fellows, and they and I got on very well together. They did, indeed, very frequently make game of and banter me, but not unkindly; and I overheard them sometimes saying that Ralph Rover was a "queer, old-fashioned fellow." This, I must confess, surprised me much, and I pondered the saying long, but could come at no satisfactory conclusion as to that wherein my old-fashionedness lay. It is true I was a quiet lad, and seldom spoke except when spoken to. Moreover, I never could understand the jokes of my companions even when they were explained to me: which dulness in apprehension occasioned me much grief; however, I tried to make up for it by smiling and looking pleased when I observed that they were laughing at some witticism which I had failed to detect. I was also very fond of inquiring into the nature of things and their causes, and often fell into fits of abstraction while thus engaged in my mind. But in all this I saw nothing that did not seem to be exceedingly natural, and could by no means understand why my comrades should call me "an old-fashioned fellow." Now, while engaged in the coasting trade, I fell in with many seamen who had travelled to almost every quarter of the globe; and I freely confess that my heart glowed ardently within me as they recounted their wild adventures in foreign lands,--the dreadful storms they had weathered, the appalling dangers they had escaped, the wonderful creatures they had seen both on the land and in the sea, and the interesting lands and strange people they had visited. But of all the places of which they told me, none captivated and charmed my imagination so much as the Coral Islands of the Southern Seas. They told me of thousands of beautiful fertile islands that had been formed by a small creature called the coral insect, where summer reigned nearly all the year round,--where the trees were laden with a constant harvest of luxuriant fruit,--where the climate was almost perpetually delightful,--yet where, strange to say, men were wild, bloodthirsty savages, excepting in those favoured isles to which the gospel of our Saviour had been conveyed. These exciting accounts had so great an effect upon my mind, that, when I reached the age of fifteen, I resolved to make a voyage to the South Seas. I had no little difficulty at first in prevailing on my dear parents to let me go; but when I urged on my father that he would never have become a great captain had he remained in the coasting trade, he saw the truth of what I said, and gave his consent. My dear mother, seeing that my father had made up his mind, no longer offered opposition to my wishes. "But oh, Ralph," she said, on the day I bade her adieu, "come back soon to us, my dear boy, for we are getting old now, Ralph, and may not have many years to live." I will not take up my reader's time with a minute account of all that occurred before I took my final leave of my dear parents. Suffice it to say, that my father placed me under the charge of an old mess-mate of his own, a merchant captain, who was on the point of sailing to the South Seas in his own ship, the Arrow. My mother gave me her blessing and a small Bible; and her last request was, that I would never forget to read a chapter every day, and say my prayers; which I promised, with tears in my eyes, that I would certainly do. Soon afterwards I went on board the Arrow, which was a fine large ship, and set sail for the islands of the Pacific Ocean. CHAPTER II. The departure--The sea--My companions--Some account of the wonderful sights we saw on the great deep--A dreadful storm and a frightful wreck. It was a bright, beautiful, warm day when our ship spread her canvass to the breeze, and sailed for the regions of the south. Oh, how my heart bounded with delight as I listened to the merry chorus of the sailors, while they hauled at the ropes and got in the anchor! The captain shouted--the men ran to obey--the noble ship bent over to the breeze, and the shore gradually faded from my view, while I stood looking on with a kind of feeling that the whole was a delightful dream. The first thing that struck me as being different from anything I had yet seen during my short career on the sea, was the hoisting of the anchor on deck, and lashing it firmly down with ropes, as if we had now bid adieu to the land for ever, and would require its services no more. "There, lass," cried a broad-shouldered jack-tar, giving the fluke of the anchor a hearty slap with his hand after the housing was completed--"there, lass, take a good nap now, for we shan't ask you to kiss the mud again for many a long day to come!" And so it was. That anchor did not "kiss the mud" for many long days afterwards; and when at last it did, it was for the last time! There were a number of boys in the ship, but two of them were my special favourites. Jack Martin was a tall, strapping, broad-shouldered youth of eighteen, with a handsome, good-humoured, firm face. He had had a good education, was clever and hearty and lion-like in his actions, but mild and quiet in disposition. Jack was a general favourite, and had a peculiar fondness for me. My other companion was Peterkin Gay. He was little, quick, funny, decidedly mischievous, and about fourteen years old. But Peterkin's mischief was almost always harmless, else he could not have been so much beloved as he was. "Hallo! youngster," cried Jack Martin, giving me a slap on the shoulder, the day I joined the ship, "come below and I'll show you your berth. You and I are to be mess-mates, and I think we shall be good friends, for I like the look o' you." Jack was right. He and I and Peterkin afterwards became the best and stanchest friends that ever tossed together on the stormy waves. I shall say little about the first part of our voyage. We had the usual amount of rough weather and calm; also we saw many strange fish rolling in the sea, and I was greatly delighted one day by seeing a shoal of flying fish dart out of the water and skim through the air about a foot above the surface. They were pursued by dolphins, which feed on them, and one flying-fish in its terror flew over the ship, struck on the rigging, and fell upon the deck. Its wings were just fins elongated, and we found that they could never fly far at a time, and never mounted into the air like birds, but skimmed along the surface of the sea. Jack and I had it for dinner, and found it remarkably good. When we approached Cape Horn, at the southern extremity of America, the weather became very cold and stormy, and the sailors began to tell stories about the furious gales and the dangers of that terrible cape. "Cape Horn," said one, "is the most horrible headland I ever doubled. I've sailed round it twice already, and both times the ship was a'most blow'd out o' the water." "An' I've been round it once," said another, "an' that time the sails were split, and the ropes frozen in the blocks, so that they wouldn't work, and we wos all but lost." "An' I've been round it five times," cried a third, "an' every time wos wuss than another, the gales wos so tree-mendous!" "And I've been round it no times at all," cried Peterkin, with an impudent wink of his eye, "an' _that_ time I wos blow'd inside out!" Nevertheless, we passed the dreaded cape without much rough weather, and, in the course of a few weeks afterwards, were sailing gently, before a warm tropical breeze, over the Pacific Ocean. Thus we proceeded on our voyage, sometimes bounding merrily before a fair breeze, at other times floating calmly on the glassy wave and fishing for the curious inhabitants of the deep,--all of which, although the sailors thought little of them, were strange, and interesting, and very wonderful to me. At last we came among the Coral Islands of the Pacific, and I shall never forget the delight with which I gazed,--when we chanced to pass one,--at the pure, white, dazzling shores, and the verdant palm-trees, which looked bright and beautiful in the sunshine. And often did we three long to be landed on one, imagining that we should certainly find perfect happiness there! Our wish was granted sooner than we expected. One night, soon after we entered the tropics, an awful storm burst upon our ship. The first squall of wind carried away two of our masts; and left only the foremast standing. Even this, however, was more than enough, for we did not dare to hoist a rag of sail on it. For five days the tempest raged in all its fury. Everything was swept off the decks except one small boat. The steersman was lashed to the wheel, lest he should be washed away, and we all gave ourselves up for lost. The captain said that he had no idea where we were, as we had been blown far out of our course; and we feared much that we might get among the dangerous coral reefs which are so numerous in the Pacific. At day-break on the sixth morning of the gale we saw land ahead. It was an island encircled by a reef of coral on which the waves broke in fury. There was calm water within this reef, but we could only see one narrow opening into it. For this opening we steered, but, ere we reached it, a tremendous wave broke on our stern, tore the rudder completely off, and left us at the mercy of the winds and waves. "It's all over with us now, lads," said the captain to the men; "get the boat ready to launch; we shall be on the rocks in less than half an hour." The men obeyed in gloomy silence, for they felt that there was little hope of so small a boat living in such a sea. "Come boys," said Jack Martin, in a grave tone, to me and Peterkin, as we stood on the quarterdeck awaiting our fate;--"Come boys, we three shall stick together. You see it is impossible that the little boat can reach the shore, crowded with men. It will be sure to upset, so I mean rather to trust myself to a large oar, I see through the telescope that the ship will strike at the tail of the reef, where the waves break into the quiet water inside; so, if we manage to cling to the oar till it is driven over the breakers, we may perhaps gain the shore. What say you; will you join me?" We gladly agreed to follow Jack, for he inspired us with confidence, although I could perceive, by the sad tone of his voice, that he had little hope; and, indeed, when I looked at the white waves that lashed the reef and boiled against the rocks as if in fury, I felt that there was but a step between us and death. My heart sank within me; but at that moment my thoughts turned to my beloved mother, and I remembered those words, which were among the last that she said to me--"Ralph, my dearest child, always remember in the hour of danger to look to your Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. He alone is both able and willing to save your body and your soul." So I felt much comforted when I thought thereon. The ship was now very near the rocks. The men were ready with the boat, and the captain beside them giving orders, when a tremendous wave came towards us. We three ran towards the bow to lay hold of our oar, and had barely reached it when the wave fell on the deck with a crash like thunder. At the same moment the ship struck, the foremast broke off close to the deck and went over the side, carrying the boat and men along with it. Our oar got entangled with the wreck, and Jack seized an axe to cut it free, but, owing to the motion of the ship, he missed the cordage and struck the axe deep into the oar. Another wave, however, washed it clear of the wreck. We all seized hold of it, and the next instant we were struggling in the wild sea. The last thing I saw was the boat whirling in the surf, and all the sailors tossed into the foaming waves. Then I became insensible. On recovering from my swoon, I found myself lying on a bank of soft grass, under the shelter of an overhanging rock, with Peterkin on his knees by my side, tenderly bathing my temples with water, and endeavouring to stop the blood that flowed from a wound in my forehead. CHAPTER III. The Coral Island--Our first cogitations after landing, and the result of them--We conclude that the island is uninhabited. There is a strange and peculiar sensation experienced in recovering from a state of insensibility, which is almost indescribable; a sort of dreamy, confused consciousness; a half-waking half-sleeping condition, accompanied with a feeling of weariness, which, however, is by no means disagreeable. As I slowly recovered and heard the voice of Peterkin inquiring whether I felt better, I thought that I must have overslept myself, and should be sent to the mast-head for being lazy; but before I could leap up in haste, the thought seemed to vanish suddenly away, and I fancied that I must have been ill. Then a balmy breeze fanned my cheek, and I thought of home, and the garden at the back of my father's cottage, with its luxuriant flowers, and the sweet-scented honey-suckle that my dear mother trained so carefully upon the trellised porch. But the roaring of the surf put these delightful thoughts to flight, and I was back again at sea, watching the dolphins and the flying-fish, and reefing topsails off the wild and stormy Cape Horn. Gradually the roar of the surf became louder and more distinct. I thought of being wrecked far far away from my native land, and slowly opened my eyes to meet those of my companion Jack, who, with a look of intense anxiety, was gazing into my face. "Speak to us, my dear Ralph," whispered Jack, tenderly, "are you better now?" I smiled and looked up, saying, "Better; why, what do you mean, Jack? I'm quite well." "Then what are you shamming for, and frightening us in this way?" said Peterkin, smiling through his tears; for the poor boy had been really under the impression that I was dying. I now raised myself on my elbow, and putting my hand to my forehead, found that it had been cut pretty severely, and that I had lost a good deal of blood. "Come, come, Ralph," said Jack, pressing me gently backward, "lie down, my boy; you're not right yet. Wet your lips with this water, it's cool and clear as crystal. I got it from a spring close at hand. There now, don't say a word, hold your tongue," said he, seeing me about to speak. "I'll tell you all about it, but you must not utter a syllable till you have rested well." "Oh! don't stop him from speaking, Jack," said Peterkin, who, now that his fears for my safety were removed, busied himself in erecting a shelter of broken branches in order to protect me from the wind; which, however, was almost unnecessary, for the rock beside which I had been laid completely broke the force of the gale. "Let him speak, Jack; it's a comfort to hear that he's alive, after lying there stiff and white and sulky for a whole hour, just like an Egyptian mummy. Never saw such a fellow as you are, Ralph; always up to mischief. You've almost knocked out all my teeth and more than half choked me, and now you go shamming dead! It's very wicked of you, indeed it is." While Peterkin ran on in this style, my faculties became quite clear again, and I began to understand my position. "What do you mean by saying I half choked you, Peterkin?" said I. "What do I mean? Is English not your mother tongue, or do you want me to repeat it in French, by way of making it clearer? Don't you remember--" "I remember nothing," said I, interrupting him, "after we were thrown into the sea." {Slowly recovering: p24.jpg} "Hush, Peterkin," said Jack, "you're exciting Ralph with your nonsense. I'll explain it to you. You recollect that after the ship struck, we three sprang over the bow into the sea; well, I noticed that the oar struck your head and gave you that cut on the brow, which nearly stunned you, so that you grasped Peterkin round the neck without knowing apparently what you were about. In doing so you pushed the telescope,--which you clung to as if it had been your life,--against Peterkin's mouth--" "Pushed it against his mouth!" interrupted Peterkin, "say crammed it down his throat. Why, there's a distinct mark of the brass rim on the back of my gullet at this moment!" "Well, well, be that as it may," continued Jack, "you clung to him, Ralph, till I feared you really would choke him; but I saw that he had a good hold of the oar, so I exerted myself to the utmost to push you towards the shore, which we luckily reached without much trouble, for the water inside the reef is quite calm." "But the captain and crew, what of them?" I inquired anxiously. Jack shook his head. "Are they lost?" "No, they are not lost, I hope, but I fear there is not much chance of their being saved. The ship struck at the very tail of the island on which we are cast. When the boat was tossed into the sea it fortunately did not upset, although it shipped a good deal of water, and all the men managed to scramble into it; but before they could get the oars out the gale carried them past the point and away to leeward of the island. After we landed I saw them endeavouring to pull towards us, but as they had only one pair of oars out of the eight that belong to the boat, and as the wind was blowing right in their teeth, they gradually lost ground. Then I saw them put about and hoist some sort of sail,--a blanket, I fancy, for it was too small for the boat,--and in half an hour they were out of sight." "Poor fellows," I murmured sorrowfully. "But the more I think about it, I've better hope of them," continued Jack, in a more cheerful tone. "You see, Ralph, I've read a great deal about these South Sea Islands, and I know that in many places they are scattered about in thousands over the sea, so they're almost sure to fall in with one of them before long." "I'm sure I hope so," said Peterkin, earnestly. "But what has become of the wreck, Jack? I saw you clambering up the rocks there while I was watching Ralph. Did you say she had gone to pieces?" "No, she has not gone to pieces, but she has gone to the bottom," replied Jack. "As I said before, she struck on the tail of the island and stove in her bow, but the next breaker swung her clear, and she floated away to leeward. The poor fellows in the boat made a hard struggle to reach her, but long before they came near her she filled and went down. It was after she foundered that I saw them trying to pull to the island." There wan a long silence after Jack ceased speaking, and I have no doubt that each was revolving in his mind our extraordinary position. For my part I cannot say that my reflections were very agreeable. I knew that we were on an island, for Jack had said so, but whether it was inhabited or not I did not know. If it should be inhabited, I felt certain, from all I had heard of South Sea Islanders, that we should be roasted alive and eaten. If it should turn out to be uninhabited, I fancied that we should be starved to death. "Oh!" thought I, "if the ship had only stuck on the rocks we might have done pretty well, for we could have obtained provisions from her, and tools to enable us to build a shelter, but now--alas! alas! we are lost!" These last words I uttered aloud in my distress. "Lost! Ralph?" exclaimed Jack, while a smile overspread his hearty countenance. "Saved, you should have said. Your cogitations seem to have taken a wrong road, and led you to a wrong conclusion." "Do you know what conclusion _I_ have come to?" said Peterkin. "I have made up my mind that it's capital,--first rate,--the best thing that ever happened to us, and the most splendid prospect that ever lay before three jolly young tars. We've got an island all to ourselves. We'll take possession in the name of the king; we'll go and enter the service of its black inhabitants. Of course we'll rise, naturally, to the top of affairs. White men always do in savage countries. You shall be king, Jack; Ralph, prime minister, and I shall be--" "The court jester," interrupted Jack. "No," retorted Peterkin, "I'll have no title at all. I shall merely accept a highly responsible situation under government, for you see, Jack, I'm fond of having an enormous salary and nothing to do." "But suppose there are no natives?" "Then we'll build a charming villa, and plant a lovely garden round it, stuck all full of the most splendiferous tropical flowers, and we'll farm the land, plant, sow, reap, eat, sleep, and be merry." "But to be serious," said Jack, assuming a grave expression of countenance, which I observed always had the effect of checking Peterkin's disposition to make fun of everything, "we are really in rather an uncomfortable position. If this is a desert island, we shall have to live very much like the wild beasts, for we have not a tool of any kind, not even a knife." "Yes, we have _that_," said Peterkin, fumbling in his trousers pocket, from which he drew forth a small penknife with only one blade, and that was broken. "Well, that's better than nothing; but come," said Jack, rising, "we are wasting our time in _talking_ instead of _doing_. You seem well enough to walk now, Ralph, let us see what we have got in our pockets, and then let us climb some hill and ascertain what sort of island we have been cast upon, for, whether good or bad, it seems likely to be our home for some time to come." CHAPTER IV. We examine into our personal property, and make a happy discovery--Our island described--Jack proves himself to be learned and sagacious above his fellows--Curious discoveries--Natural lemonade! We now seated ourselves upon a rock and began to examine into our personal property. When we reached the shore, after being wrecked, my companions had taken off part of their clothes and spread them out in the sun to dry, for, although the gale was raging fiercely, there was not a single cloud in the bright sky. They had also stripped off most part of my wet clothes and spread them also on the rocks. Having resumed our garments, we now searched all our pockets with the utmost care, and laid their contents out on a flat stone before us; and, now that our minds were fully alive to our condition, it was with no little anxiety that we turned our several pockets inside out, in order that nothing might escape us. When all was collected together we found that our worldly goods consisted of the following articles:-- First, A small penknife with a single blade broken off about the middle and very rusty, besides having two or three notches on its edge. (Peterkin said of this, with his usual pleasantry, that it would do for a saw as well as a knife, which was a great advantage.) Second, An old German-silver pencil-case without any lead in it. Third, A piece of whip- cord about six yards long. Fourth, A sailmaker's needle of a small size. Fifth, A ship's telescope, which I happened to have in my hand at the time the ship struck, and which I had clung to firmly all the time I was in the water. Indeed it was with difficulty that Jack got it out of my grasp when I was lying insensible on the shore. I cannot understand why I kept such a firm hold of this telescope. They say that a drowning man will clutch at a straw. Perhaps it may have been some such feeling in me, for I did not know that it was in my hand at the time we were wrecked. However, we felt some pleasure in having it with us now, although we did not see that it could be of much use to us, as the glass at the small end was broken to pieces. Our sixth article was a brass ring which Jack always wore on his little finger. I never understood why he wore it, for Jack was not vain of his appearance, and did not seem to care for ornaments of any kind. Peterkin said "it was in memory of the girl he left behind him!" But as he never spoke of this girl to either of us, I am inclined to think that Peterkin was either jesting or mistaken. In addition to these articles we had a little bit of tinder, and the clothes on our backs. These last were as follows:-- Each of us had on a pair of stout canvass trousers, and a pair of sailors' thick shoes. Jack wore a red flannel shirt, a blue jacket, and a red Kilmarnock bonnet or night-cap, besides a pair of worsted socks, and a cotton pocket-handkerchief, with sixteen portraits of Lord Nelson printed on it, and a union Jack in the middle. Peterkin had on a striped flannel shirt,--which he wore outside his trousers, and belted round his waist, after the manner of a tunic,--and a round black straw hat. He had no jacket, having thrown it off just before we were cast into the sea; but this was not of much consequence, as the climate of the island proved to be extremely mild; so much so, indeed, that Jack and I often preferred to go about without our jackets. Peterkin had also a pair of white cotton socks, and a blue handkerchief with white spots all over it. My own costume consisted of a blue flannel shirt, a blue jacket, a black cap, and a pair of worsted socks, besides the shoes and canvass trousers already mentioned. This was all we had, and besides these things we had nothing else; but, when we thought of the danger from which we had escaped, and how much worse off we might have been had the ship struck on the reef during the night, we felt very thankful that we were possessed of so much, although, I must confess, we sometimes wished that we had had a little more. While we were examining these things, and talking about them, Jack suddenly started and exclaimed-- "The oar! we have forgotten the oar." "What good will that do us?" said Peterkin; "there's wood enough on the island to make a thousand oars." "Ay, lad," replied Jack, "but there's a bit of hoop iron at the end of it, and that may be of much use to us." "Very true," said I, "let us go fetch it;" and with that we all three rose and hastened down to the beach. I still felt a little weak from loss of blood, so that my companions soon began to leave me behind; but Jack perceived this, and, with his usual considerate good nature, turned back to help me. This was now the first time that I had looked well about me since landing, as the spot where I had been laid was covered with thick bushes which almost hid the country from our view. As we now emerged from among these and walked down the sandy beach together, I cast my eyes about, and, truly, my heart glowed within me and my spirits rose at the beautiful prospect which I beheld on every side. The gale had suddenly died away, just as if it had blown furiously till it dashed our ship upon the rocks, and had nothing more to do after accomplishing that. The island on which we stood was hilly, and covered almost everywhere with the most beautiful and richly coloured trees, bushes, and shrubs, none of which I knew the names of at that time, except, indeed, the cocoa- nut palms, which I recognised at once from the many pictures that I had seen of them before I left home. A sandy beach of dazzling whiteness lined this bright green shore, and upon it there fell a gentle ripple of the sea. This last astonished me much, for I recollected that at home the sea used to fall in huge billows on the shore long after a storm had subsided. But on casting my glance out to sea the cause became apparent. About a mile distant from the shore I saw the great billows of the ocean rolling like a green wall, and falling with a long, loud roar, upon a low coral reef, where they were dashed into white foam and flung up in clouds of spray. This spray sometimes flew exceedingly high, and, every here and there, a beautiful rainbow was formed for a moment among the falling drops. We afterwards found that this coral reef extended quite round the island, and formed a natural breakwater to it. Beyond this the sea rose and tossed violently from the effects of the storm; but between the reef and the shore it was as calm and as smooth as a pond. My heart was filled with more delight than I can express at sight of so many glorious objects, and my thoughts turned suddenly to the contemplation of the Creator of them all. I mention this the more gladly, because at that time, I am ashamed to say, I very seldom thought of my Creator, although I was constantly surrounded by the most beautiful and wonderful of His works. I observed from the expression of my companion's countenance that he too derived much joy from the splendid scenery, which was all the more agreeable to us after our long voyage on the salt sea. There, the breeze was fresh and cold, but here it was delightfully mild; and, when a puff blew off the land, it came laden with the most exquisite perfume that can be imagined. While we thus gazed, we were startled by a loud "Huzza!" from Peterkin, and, on looking towards the edge of the sea, we saw him capering and jumping about like a monkey, and ever and anon tugging with all his might at something that lay upon the shore. "What an odd fellow he is, to be sure," said Jack, taking me by the arm and hurrying forward; "come, let us hasten to see what it is." "Here it is, boys, hurrah! come along. Just what we want," cried Peterkin, as we drew near, still tugging with all his power. "First rate; just the very ticket!" I need scarcely say to my readers that my companion Peterkin was in the habit of using very remarkable and peculiar phrases. And I am free to confess that I did not well understand the meaning of some of them,--such, for instance, as "the very ticket;" but I think it my duty to recount everything relating to my adventures with a strict regard to truthfulness in as far as my memory serves me; so I write, as nearly as possible, the exact words that my companions spoke. I often asked Peterkin to explain what he meant by "ticket," but he always answered me by going into fits of laughter. However, by observing the occasions on which he used it, I came to understand that it meant to show that something was remarkably good, or fortunate. On coming up we found that Peterkin was vainly endeavouring to pull the axe out of the oar, into which, it will be remembered, Jack struck it while endeavouring to cut away the cordage among which it had become entangled at the bow of the ship. Fortunately for us the axe had remained fast in the oar, and even now, all Peterkin's strength could not draw it out of the cut. "Ah! that is capital indeed," cried Jack, at the same time giving the axe a wrench that plucked it out of the tough wood. "How fortunate this is! It will be of more value to us than a hundred knives, and the edge is quite new and sharp." "I'll answer for the toughness of the handle at any rate," cried Peterkin; "my arms are nearly pulled out of the sockets. But see here, our luck is great. There is iron on the blade." He pointed to a piece of hoop iron, as he spoke, which had been nailed round the blade of the oar to prevent it from splitting. This also was a fortunate discovery. Jack went down on his knees, and with the edge of the axe began carefully to force out the nails. But as they were firmly fixed in, and the operation blunted our axe, we carried the oar up with us to the place where we had left the rest of our things, intending to burn the wood away from the iron at a more convenient time. "Now, lads," said Jack, after we had laid it on the stone which contained our little all, "I propose that we should go to the tail of the island, where the ship struck, which is only a quarter of a mile off, and see if anything else has been thrown ashore. I don't expect anything, but it is well to see. When we get back here it will be time to have our supper and prepare our beds." "Agreed!" cried Peterkin and I together, as, indeed, we would have agreed to any proposal that Jack made; for, besides his being older and much stronger and taller than either of us, he was a very clever fellow, and I think would have induced people much older than himself to choose him for their leader, especially if they required to be led on a bold enterprise. Now, as we hastened along the white beach, which shone so brightly in the rays of the setting sun that our eyes were quite dazzled by its glare, it suddenly came into Peterkin's head that we had nothing to eat except the wild berries which grew in profusion at our feet. "What shall we do, Jack?" said he, with a rueful look; "perhaps they may be poisonous!" "No fear," replied Jack, confidently; "I have observed that a few of them are not unlike some of the berries that grow wild on our own native hills. Besides, I saw one or two strange birds eating them just a few minutes ago, and what won't kill the birds won't kill us. But look up there, Peterkin," continued Jack, pointing to the branched head of a cocoa-nut palm. "There are nuts for us in all stages." "So there are!" cried Peterkin, who being of a very unobservant nature had been too much taken up with other things to notice anything so high above his head as the fruit of a palm tree. But, whatever faults my young comrade had, he could not be blamed for want of activity or animal spirits. Indeed, the nuts had scarcely been pointed out to him when he bounded up the tall stem of the tree like a squirrel, and, in a few minutes, returned with three nuts, each as large as a man's fist. "You had better keep them till we return," raid Jack. "Let us finish our work before eating." "So be it, captain, go ahead," cried Peterkin, thrusting the nuts into his trousers pocket. "In fact I don't want to eat just now, but I would give a good deal for a drink. Oh that I could find a spring! but I don't see the smallest sign of one hereabouts. I say, Jack, how does it happen that you seem to be up to everything? You have told us the names of half- a-dozen trees already, and yet you say that you were never in the South Seas before." "I'm not up to _everything_, Peterkin, as you'll find out ere long," replied Jack, with a smile; "but I have been a great reader of books of travel and adventure all my life, and that has put me up to a good many things that you are, perhaps, not acquainted with." "Oh, Jack, that's all humbug. If you begin to lay everything to the credit of books, I'll quite lose my opinion of you," cried Peterkin, with a look of contempt. "I've seen a lot o' fellows that were _always_ poring over books, and when they came to try to _do_ anything, they were no better than baboons!" "You are quite right," retorted Jack; "and I have seen a lot of fellows who never looked into books at all, who knew nothing about anything except the things they had actually seen, and very little they knew even about these. Indeed, some were so ignorant that they did not know that cocoa-nuts grew on cocoa-nut trees!" I could not refrain from laughing at this rebuke, for there was much truth in it, as to Peterkin's ignorance. "Humph! maybe you're right," answered Peterkin; "but I would not give _tuppence_ for a man of books, if he had nothing else in him." "Neither would I," said Jack; "but that's no reason why you should run books down, or think less of me for having read them. Suppose, now, Peterkin, that you wanted to build a ship, and I were to give you a long and particular account of the way to do it, would not that be very useful?" "No doubt of it," said Peterkin, laughing. "And suppose I were to write the account in a letter instead of telling you in words, would that be less useful?" "Well--no, perhaps not." "Well, suppose I were to print it, and send it to you in the form of a book, would it not be as good and useful as ever?" "Oh, bother! Jack, you're a philosopher, and that's worse than anything!" cried Peterkin, with a look of pretended horror. "Very well, Peterkin, we shall see," returned Jack, halting under the shade of a cocoa-nut tree. "You said you were thirsty just a minute ago; now, jump up that tree and bring down a nut,--not a ripe one, bring a green, unripe one." Peterkin looked surprised, but, seeing that Jack was in earnest, he obeyed. "Now, cut a hole in it with your penknife, and clap it to your mouth, old fellow," said Jack. Peterkin did as he was directed, and we both burst into uncontrollable laughter at the changes that instantly passed over his expressive countenance. No sooner had he put the nut to his mouth, and thrown back his head in order to catch what came out of it, than his eyes opened to twice their ordinary size with astonishment, while his throat moved vigorously in the act of swallowing. Then a smile and look of intense delight overspread his face, except, indeed, the mouth, which, being firmly fixed to the hole in the nut, could not take part in the expression; but he endeavoured to make up for this by winking at us excessively with his right eye. At length he stopped, and, drawing a long breath, exclaimed-- "Nectar! perfect nectar! I say, Jack, you're a Briton--the best fellow I ever met in my life. Only taste that!" said he, turning to me and holding the nut to my mouth. I immediately drank, and certainly I was much surprised at the delightful liquid that flowed copiously down my throat. It was extremely cool, and had a sweet taste, mingled with acid; in fact, it was the likest thing to lemonade I ever tasted, and was most grateful and refreshing. I handed the nut to Jack, who, after tasting it, said, "Now, Peterkin, you unbeliever, I never saw or tasted a cocoa nut in my life before, except those sold in shops at home; but I once read that the green nuts contain that stuff, and you see it is true!" "And pray," asked Peterkin, "what sort of 'stuff' does the ripe nut contain?" "A hollow kernel," answered Jack, "with a liquid like milk in it; but it does not satisfy thirst so well as hunger. It is very wholesome food I believe." "Meat and drink on the same tree!" cried Peterkin; "washing in the sea, lodging on the ground,--and all for nothing! My dear boys, we're set up for life; it must be the ancient Paradise,--hurrah!" and Peterkin tossed his straw hat in the air, and ran along the beach hallooing like a madman with delight. We afterwards found, however, that these lovely islands were very unlike Paradise in many things. But more of this in its proper place. We had now come to the point of rocks on which the ship had struck, but did not find a single article, although we searched carefully among the coral rocks, which at this place jutted out so far as nearly to join the reef that encircled the island. Just as we were about to return, however, we saw something black floating in a little cove that had escaped our observation. Running forward, we drew it from the water, and found it to be a long thick leather boot, such as fishermen at home wear; and a few paces farther on we picked up its fellow. We at once recognised these as having belonged to our captain, for he had worn them during the whole of the storm, in order to guard his legs from the waves and spray that constantly washed over our decks. My first thought on seeing them was that our dear captain had been drowned; but Jack soon put my mind more at rest on that point, by saying that if the captain had been drowned with the boots on, he would certainly have been washed ashore along with them, and that he had no doubt whatever he had kicked them off while in the sea, that he might swim more easily. Peterkin immediately put them on, but they were so large that, as Jack said, they would have done for boots, trousers, and vest too. I also tried them, but, although I was long enough in the legs for them, they were much too large in the feet for me; so we handed them to Jack, who was anxious to make me keep them, but as they fitted his large limbs and feet as if they had been made for him, I would not hear of it, so he consented at last to use them. I may remark, however, that Jack did not use them often, as they were extremely heavy. It was beginning to grow dark when we returned to our encampment; so we put off our visit to the top of a hill till next day, and employed the light that yet remained to us in cutting down a quantity of boughs and the broad leaves of a tree, of which none of us knew the name. With these we erected a sort of rustic bower, in which we meant to pass the night. There was no absolute necessity for this, because the air of our island was so genial and balmy that we could have slept quite well without any shelter; but we were so little used to sleeping in the open air, that we did not quite relish the idea of lying down without any covering over us: besides, our bower would shelter us from the night dews or rain, if any should happen to fall. Having strewed the floor with leaves and dry grass, we bethought ourselves of supper. But it now occurred to us, for the first time, that we had no means of making a fire. "Now, there's a fix!--what shall we do?" said Peterkin, while we both turned our eyes to Jack, to whom we always looked in our difficulties. Jack seemed not a little perplexed. "There are flints enough, no doubt, on the beach," said he, "but they are of no use at all without a steel. However, we must try." So saying, he went to the beach, and soon returned with two flints. On one of these he placed the tinder, and endeavoured to ignite it; but it was with great difficulty that a very small spark was struck out of the flints, and the tinder, being a bad, hard piece, would not catch. He then tried the bit of hoop iron, which would not strike fire at all; and after that the back of the axe, with no better success. During all these trials Peterkin sat with his hands in his pockets, gazing with a most melancholy visage at our comrade, his face growing longer and more miserable at each successive failure. "Oh dear!" he sighed, "I would not care a button for the cooking of our victuals,--perhaps they don't need it,--but it's so dismal to eat one's supper in the dark, and we have had such a capital day, that it's a pity to finish off in this glum style. Oh, I have it!" he cried, starting up; "the spy-glass,--the big glass at the end is a burning-glass!" "You forget that we have no sun," said I. Peterkin was silent. In his sudden recollection of the telescope he had quite overlooked the absence of the sun. "Ah, boys, I've got it now!" exclaimed Jack, rising and cutting a branch from a neighbouring bush, which be stripped of its leaves. "I recollect seeing this done once at home. Hand me the bit of whip-cord." With the cord and branch Jack soon formed a bow. Then he cut a piece, about three inches long, off the end of a dead branch, which he pointed at the two ends. Round this he passed the cord of the bow, and placed one end against his chest, which was protected from its point by a chip of wood; the other point he placed against the bit of tinder, and then began to saw vigorously with the bow, just as a blacksmith does with his drill while boring a hole in a piece of iron. In a few seconds the tinder began to smoke; in less than a minute it caught fire; and in less than a quarter of an hour we were drinking our lemonade and eating cocoa nuts round a fire that would have roasted an entire sheep, while the smoke, flames, and sparks, flew up among the broad leaves of the overhanging palm trees, and cast a warm glow upon our leafy bower. That night the starry sky looked down through the gently rustling trees upon our slumbers, and the distant roaring of the surf upon the coral reef was our lullaby. CHAPTER V. Morning, and cogitations connected therewith--We luxuriate in the sea, try our diving powers, and make enchanting excursions among the coral groves at the bottom of the ocean--The wonders of the deep enlarged upon. What a joyful thing it is to awaken, on a fresh glorious morning, and find the rising sun staring into your face with dazzling brilliancy!--to see the birds twittering in the bushes, and to hear the murmuring of a rill, or the soft hissing ripples as they fall upon the sea-shore! At any time and in any place such sights and sounds are most charming, but more especially are they so when one awakens to them, for the fist time, in a novel and romantic situation, with the soft sweet air of a tropical climate mingling with the fresh smell of the sea, and stirring the strange leaves that flutter overhead and around one, or ruffling the plumage of the stranger birds that fly inquiringly around, as if to demand what business we have to intrude uninvited on their domains. When I awoke on the morning after the shipwreck, I found myself in this most delightful condition; and, as I lay on my back upon my bed of leaves, gazing up through the branches of the cocoa-nut trees into the clear blue sky, and watched the few fleecy clouds that passed slowly across it, my heart expanded more and more with an exulting gladness, the like of which I had never felt before. While I meditated, my thoughts again turned to the great and kind Creator of this beautiful world, as they had done on the previous day, when I first beheld the sea and the coral reef, with the mighty waves dashing over it into the calm waters of the lagoon. While thus meditating, I naturally bethought me of my Bible, for I had faithfully kept the promise, which I gave at parting to my beloved mother, that I would read it every morning; and it was with a feeling of dismay that I remembered I had left it in the ship. I was much troubled about this. However, I consoled myself with reflecting that I could keep the second part of my promise to her, namely, that I should never omit to say my prayers. So I rose quietly, lest I should disturb my companions, who were still asleep, and stepped aside into the bushes for this purpose. On my return I found them still slumbering, so I again lay down to think over our situation. Just at that moment I was attracted by the sight of a very small parrot, which Jack afterwards told me was called a paroquet. It was seated on a twig that overhung Peterkin's head, and I was speedily lost in admiration of its bright green plumage, which was mingled with other gay colours. While I looked I observed that the bird turned its head slowly from side to side and looked downwards, fist with the one eye, and then with the other. On glancing downwards I observed that Peterkin's mouth was wide open, and that this remarkable bird was looking into it. Peterkin used to say that I had not an atom of fun in my composition, and that I never could understand a joke. In regard to the latter, perhaps he was right; yet I think that, when they were explained to me, I understood jokes as well as most people: but in regard to the former he must certainly have been wrong, for this bird seemed to me to be extremely funny; and I could not help thinking that, if it should happen to faint, or slip its foot, and fall off the twig into Peterkin's mouth, he would perhaps think it funny too! Suddenly the paroquet bent down its head and uttered a loud scream in his face. This awoke him, and, with a cry of surprise, he started up, while the foolish bird flew precipitately away. "Oh you monster!" cried Peterkin, shaking his fist at the bird. Then he yawned and rubbed his eyes, and asked what o'clock it was. I smiled at this question, and answered that, as our watches were at the bottom of the sea, I could not tell, but it was a little past sunrise. Peterkin now began to remember where we were. As he looked up into the bright sky, and snuffed the scented air, his eyes glistened with delight, and he uttered a faint "hurrah!" and yawned again. Then he gazed slowly round, till, observing the calm sea through an opening in the bushes, he started suddenly up as if he had received an electric shock, uttered a vehement shout, flung off his garments, and, rushing over the white sands, plunged into the water. The cry awoke Jack, who rose on his elbow with a look of grave surprise; but this was followed by a quiet smile of intelligence on seeing Peterkin in the water. With an energy that he only gave way to in moments of excitement, Jack bounded to his feet, threw off his clothes, shook back his hair, and with a lion-like spring, dashed over the sands and plunged into the sea with such force as quite to envelop Peterkin in a shower of spray. Jack was a remarkably good swimmer and diver, so that after his plunge we saw no sign of him for nearly a minute; after which he suddenly emerged, with a cry of joy, a good many yards out from the shore. My spirits were so much raised by seeing all this that I, too, hastily threw off my garments and endeavoured to imitate Jack's vigorous bound; but I was so awkward that my foot caught on a stump, and I fell to the ground; then I slipped on a stone while running over the mud, and nearly fell again, much to the amusement of Peterkin, who laughed heartily, and called me a "slow coach," while Jack cried out, "Come along, Ralph, and I'll help you." However, when I got into the water I managed very well, for I was really a good swimmer, and diver too. I could not, indeed, equal Jack, who was superior to any Englishman I ever saw, but I infinitely surpassed Peterkin, who could only swim a little, and could not dive at all. While Peterkin enjoyed himself in the shallow water and in running along the beach, Jack and I swam out into the deep water, and occasionally dived for stones. I shall never forget my surprise and delight on first beholding the bottom of the sea. As I have before stated, the water within the reef was as calm as a pond; and, as there was no wind, it was quite clear, from the surface to the bottom, so that we could see down easily even at a depth of twenty or thirty yards. When Jack and I dived in shallower water, we expected to have found sand and stones, instead of which we found ourselves in what appeared really to be an enchanted garden. The whole of the bottom of the lagoon, as we called the calm water within the reef, was covered with coral of every shape, size, and hue. Some portions were formed like large mushrooms; others appeared like the brain of a man, having stalks or necks attached to them; but the most common kind was a species of branching coral, and some portions were of a lovely pale pink colour, others pure white. Among this there grew large quantities of sea-weed of the richest hues imaginable, and of the most graceful forms; while innumerable fishes--blue, red, yellow, green, and striped--sported in and out amongst the flower-beds of this submarine garden, and did not appear to be at all afraid of our approaching them. On darting to the surface for breath, after our first dive, Jack and I rose close to each other. "Did you ever in your life, Ralph, see anything so lovely?" said Jack, as he flung the spray from his hair. "Never," I replied. "It appears to me like fairy realms. I can scarcely believe that we are not dreaming." "Dreaming!" cried Jack, "do you know, Ralph, I'm half tempted to think that we really are dreaming. But if so, I am resolved to make the most of it, and dream another dive; so here goes,--down again, my boy!" We took the second dive together, and kept beside each other while under water; and I was greatly surprised to find that we could keep down much longer than I ever recollect having done in our own seas at home. I believe that this was owing to the heat of the water, which was so warm that we afterwards found we could remain in it for two and three hours at a time without feeling any unpleasant effects such as we used to experience in the sea at home. When Jack reached the bottom, he grasped the coral stems, and crept along on his hands and knees, peeping under the sea-weed and among the rocks. I observed him also pick up one or two large oysters, and retain them in his grasp, as if he meant to take them up with him, so I also gathered a few. Suddenly he made a grasp at a fish with blue and yellow stripes on its back, and actually touched its tail, but did not catch it. At this he turned towards me and attempted to smile; but no sooner had he done so than he sprang like an arrow to the surface, where, on following him, I found him gasping and coughing, and spitting water from his mouth. In a few minutes he recovered, and we both turned to swim ashore. "I declare, Ralph," said he, "that I actually tried to laugh under water." "So I saw," I replied; "and I observed that you very nearly caught that fish by the tail. It would have done capitally for breakfast if you had." "Breakfast enough here," said he, holding up the oysters, as we landed and ran up the beach. "Hallo! Peterkin, here you are, boy. Split open these fellows while Ralph and I put on our clothes. They'll agree with the cocoa nuts excellently, I have no doubt." Peterkin, who was already dressed, took the oysters, and opened them with the edge of our axe, exclaiming, "Now, that _is_ capital. There's nothing I'm so fond of." "Ah! that's lucky," remarked Jack. "I'll be able to keep you in good order now, Master Peterkin. You know you can't dive any better than a cat. So, sir, whenever you behave ill, you shall have no oysters for breakfast." "I'm very glad that our prospect of breakfast is so good," said I, "for I'm very hungry." "Here, then, stop your mouth with that, Ralph," said Peterkin, holding a large oyster to my lips. I opened my mouth and swallowed it in silence, and really it was remarkably good. We now set ourselves earnestly about our preparations for spending the day. We had no difficulty with the fire this morning, as our burning- glass was an admirable one; and while we roasted a few oysters and ate our cocoa nuts, we held a long, animated conversation about our plans for the future. What those plans were, and how we carried them into effect, the reader shall see hereafter. CHAPTER VI. An excursion into the interior, in which we make many valuable and interesting discoveries--We get a dreadful fright--The bread-fruit tree--Wonderful peculiarity of some of the fruit trees--Signs of former inhabitants. Our first care, after breakfast, was to place the few articles we possessed in the crevice of a rock at the farther end of a small cave which we discovered near our encampment. This cave, we hoped, might be useful to us afterwards as a store-house. Then we cut two large clubs off a species of very hard tree which grew near at hand. One of these was given to Peterkin, the other to me, and Jack armed himself with the axe. We took these precautions because we purposed to make an excursion to the top of the mountains of the interior, in order to obtain a better view of our island. Of course we knew not what dangers might befall us by the way, so thought it best to be prepared. Having completed our arrangements and carefully extinguished our fire, we sallied forth and walked a short distance along the sea-beach, till we came to the entrance of a valley, through which flowed the rivulet before mentioned. Here we turned our backs on the sea and struck into the interior. The prospect that burst upon our view on entering the valley was truly splendid. On either side of us there was a gentle rise in the land, which thus formed two ridges about a mile apart on each side of the valley. These ridges,--which, as well as the low grounds between them, were covered with trees and shrubs of the most luxuriant kind--continued to recede inland for about two miles, when they joined the foot of a small mountain. This hill rose rather abruptly from the head of the valley, and was likewise entirely covered even to the top with trees, except on one particular spot near the left shoulder, where was a bare and rocky place of a broken and savage character. Beyond this hill we could not see, and we therefore directed our course up the banks of the rivulet towards the foot of it, intending to climb to the top, should that be possible, as, indeed, we had no doubt it was. Jack, being the wisest and boldest among us, took the lead, carrying the axe on his shoulder. Peterkin, with his enormous club, came second, as he said he should like to be in a position to defend me if any danger should threaten. I brought up the rear, but, having been more taken up with the wonderful and curious things I saw at starting than with thoughts of possible danger, I had very foolishly left my club behind me. Although, as I have said the trees and bushes were very luxuriant, they were not so thickly crowded together as to hinder our progress among them. We were able to wind in and out, and to follow the banks of the stream quite easily, although, it is true, the height and thickness of the foliage prevented us from seeing far ahead. But sometimes a jutting- out rock on the hill sides afforded us a position whence we could enjoy the romantic view and mark our progress towards the foot of the hill. I wag particularly struck, during the walk, with the richness of the undergrowth in most places, and recognised many berries and plants that resembled those of my native land, especially a tall, elegantly-formed fern, which emitted an agreeable perfume. There were several kinds of flowers, too, but I did not see so many of these as I should have expected in such a climate. We also saw a great variety of small birds of bright plumage, and many paroquets similar to the one that awoke Peterkin so rudely in the morning. Thus we advanced to the foot of the hill without encountering anything to alarm us, except, indeed, once, when we were passing close under a part of the hill which was hidden from our view by the broad leaves of the banana trees, which grew in great luxuriance in that part. Jack was just preparing to force his way through this thicket, when we were startled and arrested by a strange pattering or rumbling sound, which appeared to us quite different from any of the sounds we had heard during the previous part of our walk. "Hallo!" cried Peterkin, stopping short and grasping his club with both hands, "what's that?" Neither of us replied; but Jack seized his axe in his right hand, while with the other he pushed aside the broad leaves and endeavoured to peer amongst them. "I can see nothing," he said, after a short pause. "I think it--" Again the rumbling sound came, louder than before, and we all sprang back and stood on the defensive. For myself, having forgotten my club, and not having taken the precaution to cut another, I buttoned my jacket, doubled my fists, and threw myself into a boxing attitude. I must say, however, that I felt somewhat uneasy; and my companions afterwards confessed that their thoughts at this moment had been instantly filled with all they had ever heard or read of wild beasts and savages, torturings at the stake, roastings alive, and such like horrible things. Suddenly the pattering noise increased with tenfold violence. It was followed by a fearful crash among the bushes, which was rapidly repeated, as if some gigantic animal were bounding towards us. In another moment an enormous rock came crashing through the shrubbery, followed by a cloud of dust and small stones, flew close past the spot where we stood, carrying bushes and young trees along with it. "Pooh! is that all?" exclaimed Peterkin, wiping the perspiration off his forehead. "Why, I thought it was all the wild men and beasts in the South Sea Islands galloping on in one grand charge to sweep us off the face of the earth, instead of a mere stone tumbling down the mountain side." "Nevertheless," remarked Jack, "if that same stone had hit any of us, it would have rendered the charge you speak of quite unnecessary, Peterkin." This was true, and I felt very thankful for our escape. On examining the spot more narrowly, we found that it lay close to the foot of a very rugged precipice, from which stones of various sizes were always tumbling at intervals. Indeed, the numerous fragments lying scattered all around might have suggested the cause of the sound, had we not been too suddenly alarmed to think of anything. We now resumed our journey, resolving that, in our future excursions into the interior, we would be careful to avoid this dangerous precipice. Soon afterwards we arrived at the foot of the hill and prepared to ascend it. Here Jack made a discovery which caused us all very great joy. This was a tree of a remarkably beautiful appearance, which Jack confidently declared to be the celebrated bread-fruit tree. "Is it celebrated?" inquired Peterkin, with a look of great simplicity. "It is," replied Jack "That's odd, now," rejoined Peterkin; "never heard of it before." "Then it's not so celebrated as I thought it was," returned Jack, quietly squeezing Peterkin's hat over his eyes; "but listen, you ignorant boobie! and hear of it now." Peterkin re-adjusted his hat, and was soon listening with as much interest as myself, while Jack told us that this tree is one of the most valuable in the islands of the south; that it bears two, sometimes three, crops of fruit in the year; that the fruit is very like wheaten bread in appearance, and that it constitutes the principal food of many of the islanders. "So," said Peterkin, "we seem to have everything ready prepared to our hands in this wonderful island,--lemonade ready bottled in nuts, and loaf- bread growing on the trees!" Peterkin, as usual, was jesting; nevertheless, it is a curious fact that he spoke almost the literal truth. "Moreover," continued Jack, "the bread-fruit tree affords a capital gum, which serves the natives for pitching their canoes; the bark of the young branches is made by them into cloth; and of the wood, which is durable and of a good colour, they build their houses. So you see, lads, that we have no lack of material here to make us comfortable, if we are only clever enough to use it." "But are you sure that that's it?" asked Peterkin. "Quite sure," replied Jack; "for I was particularly interested in the account I once read of it, and I remember the description well. I am sorry, however, that I have forgotten the descriptions of many other trees which I am sure we have seen to-day, if we could but recognise them. So you see, Peterkin, I'm not up to everything yet." "Never mind, Jack," said Peterkin, with a grave, patronizing expression of countenance, patting his tall companion on the shoulder,--"never mind, Jack; you know a good deal for your age. You're a clever boy, sir,--a promising young man; and if you only go on as you have begun, sir, you will--" The end of this speech was suddenly cut short by Jack tripping up Peterkin's heels and tumbling him into a mass of thick shrubs, where, finding himself comfortable, he lay still basking in the sunshine, while Jack and I examined the bread-tree. We were much struck with the deep, rich green colour of its broad leaves, which were twelve or eighteen inches long, deeply indented, and of a glossy smoothness, like the laurel. The fruit, with which it was loaded, was nearly round, and appeared to be about six inches in diameter, with a rough rind, marked with lozenge-shaped divisions. It was of various colours, from light pea-green to brown and rich yellow. Jack said that the yellow was the ripe fruit. We afterwards found that most of the fruit-trees on the island were evergreens, and that we might, when we wished, pluck the blossom and the ripe fruit from the same tree. Such a wonderful difference from the trees of our own country surprised us not a little. The bark of the tree was rough and light-coloured; the trunk was about two feet in diameter, and it appeared to be twenty feet high, being quite destitute of branches up to that height, where it branched off into a beautiful and umbrageous head. We noticed that the fruit hung in clusters of twos and threes on the branches; but as we were anxious to get to the top of the hill, we refrained from attempting to pluck any at that time. Our hearts were now very much cheered by our good fortune, and it was with light and active steps that we clambered up the steep sides of the hill. On reaching the summit, a new, and if possible a grander, prospect met our gaze. We found that this was not the highest part of the island, but that another hill lay beyond, with a wide valley between it and the one on which we stood. This valley, like the first, was also full of rich trees, some dark and some light green, some heavy and thick in foliage, and others light, feathery, and graceful, while the beautiful blossoms on many of them threw a sort of rainbow tint over all, and gave to the valley the appearance of a garden of flowers. Among these we recognised many of the bread-fruit trees, laden with yellow fruit, and also a great many cocoa-nut palms. After gazing our fill we pushed down the hill side, crossed the valley, and soon began to ascend the second mountain. It was clothed with trees nearly to the top, but the summit was bare, and in some places broken. While on our way up we came to an object which filled us with much interest. This was the stump of a tree that had evidently been cut down with an axe! So, then, we were not the first who had viewed this beautiful isle. The hand of man had been at work there before us. It now began to recur to us again that perhaps the island was inhabited, although we had not seen any traces of man until now; but a second glance at the stump convinced us that we had not more reason to think so now than formerly; for the surface of the wood was quite decayed, and partly covered with fungus and green matter, so that it must have been cut many years ago. "Perhaps," said Peterkin, "some ship or other has touched here long ago for wood, and only taken one tree." We did not think this likely, however, because, in such circumstances, the crew of a ship would cut wood of small size, and near the shore, whereas this was a large tree and stood near the top of the mountain. In fact it was the highest large tree on the mountain, all above it being wood of very recent growth. "I can't understand it," said Jack, scratching the surface of the stump with his axe. "I can only suppose that the savages have been here and cut it for some purpose known only to themselves. But, hallo! what have we here?" As he spoke, Jack began carefully to scrape away the moss and fungus from the stump, and soon laid bare three distinct traces of marks, as if some inscription or initials had been cut thereon. But although the traces were distinct, beyond all doubt, the exact form of the letters could not be made out. Jack thought they looked like J. S. but we could not be certain. They had apparently been carelessly cut, and long exposure to the weather had so broken them up that we could not make out what they were. We were exceedingly perplexed at this discovery, and stayed a long time at the place conjecturing what these marks could have been, but without avail; so, as the day was advancing, we left it and quickly reached the top of the mountain. We found this to be the highest point of the island, and from it we saw our kingdom lying, as it were, like a map around us. As I have always thought it impossible to get a thing properly into one's understanding without comprehending it, I shall beg the reader's patience for a little while I describe our island, thus, shortly:-- It consisted of two mountains; the one we guessed at 500 feet; the other, on which we stood, at 1000. Between these lay a rich, beautiful valley, as already said. This valley crossed the island from one end to the other, being high in the middle and sloping on each side towards the sea. The large mountain sloped, on the side farthest from where we had been wrecked, gradually towards the sea; but although, when viewed at a glance, it had thus a regular sloping appearance, a more careful observation showed that it was broken up into a multitude of very small vales, or rather dells and glens, intermingled with little rugged spots and small but abrupt precipices here and there, with rivulets tumbling over their edges and wandering down the slopes in little white streams, sometimes glistening among the broad leaves of the bread-fruit and cocoa- nut trees, or hid altogether beneath the rich underwood. At the base of this mountain lay a narrow bright green plain or meadow, which terminated abruptly at the shore. On the other side of the island, whence we had come, stood the smaller hill, at the foot of which diverged three valleys; one being that which we had ascended, with a smaller vale on each side of it, and separated from it by the two ridges before mentioned. In these smaller valleys there were no streams, but they were clothed with the same luxuriant vegetation. The diameter of the island seemed to be about ten miles, and, as it was almost circular in form, its circumference must have been thirty miles;--perhaps a little more, if allowance be made for the numerous bays and indentations of the shore. The entire island was belted by a beach of pure white sand, on which laved the gentle ripples of the lagoon. We now also observed that the coral reef completely encircled the island; but it varied its distance from it here and there, in some places being a mile from the beach, in others, a few hundred yards, but the average distance was half a mile. The reef lay very low, and the spray of the surf broke quite over it in many places. This surf never ceased its roar, for, however calm the weather might be, there is always a gentle swaying motion in the great Pacific, which, although scarce noticeable out at sea, reaches the shore at last in a huge billow. The water within the lagoon, as before said, was perfectly still. There were three narrow openings in the reef; one opposite each end of the valley which I have described as crossing the island; the other opposite our own valley, which we afterwards named the Valley of the Wreck. At each of these openings the reef rose into two small green islets, covered with bushes and having one or two cocoa-nut palms on each. These islets were very singular, and appeared as if planted expressly for the purpose of marking the channel into the lagoon. Our captain was making for one of these openings the day we were wrecked, and would have reached it too, I doubt not, had not the rudder been torn away. Within the lagoon were several pretty, low coral islands, just opposite our encampment; and, immediately beyond these, out at sea, lay about a dozen other islands, at various distances, from half a mile to ten miles; all of them, as far as we could discern, smaller than ours and apparently uninhabited. They seemed to be low coral islands, raised but little above the sea, yet covered with cocoa-nut trees. All this we noted, and a great deal more, while we sat on the top of the mountain. After we had satisfied ourselves we prepared to return; but here again we discovered traces of the presence of man. These were a pole or staff and one or two pieces of wood which had been squared with an axe. All of these were, however, very much decayed, and they had evidently not been touched for many years. Full of these discoveries we returned to our encampment. On the way we fell in with the traces of some four-footed animal, but whether old or of recent date none of us were able to guess. This also tended to raise our hopes of obtaining some animal food on the island, so we reached home in good spirits, quite prepared for supper, and highly satisfied with our excursion. After much discussion, in which Peterkin took the lead, we came to the conclusion that the island was uninhabited, and went to bed. CHAPTER VII. Jack's ingenuity--We get into difficulties about fishing, and get out of them by a method which gives us a cold bath--Horrible encounter with a shark. For several days after the excursion related in the last chapter we did not wander far from our encampment, but gave ourselves up to forming plans for the future and making our present abode comfortable. There were various causes that induced this state of comparative inaction. In the first place, although everything around us was so delightful, and we could without difficulty obtain all that we required for our bodily comfort, we did not quite like the idea of settling down here for the rest of our lives, far away from our friends and our native land. To set energetically about preparations for a permanent residence seemed so like making up our minds to saying adieu to home and friends for ever, that we tacitly shrank from it and put off our preparations, for one reason and another, as long as we could. Then there was a little uncertainty still as to there being natives on the island, and we entertained a kind of faint hope that a ship might come and take us off. But as day after day passed, and neither savages nor ships appeared, we gave up all hope of an early deliverance and set diligently to work at our homestead. During this time, however, we had not been altogether idle. We made several experiments in cooking the cocoa-nut, most of which did not improve it. Then we removed our goods, and took up our abode in the cave, but found the change so bad that we returned gladly to the bower. Besides this we bathed very frequently, and talked a great deal; at least Jack and Peterkin did,--I listened. Among other useful things, Jack, who was ever the most active and diligent, converted about three inches of the hoop-iron into an excellent knife. First he beat it quite flat with the axe. Then he made a rude handle, and tied the hoop-iron to it with our piece of whip-cord, and ground it to an edge on a piece of sand-stone. When it was finished he used it to shape a better handle, to which he fixed it with a strip of his cotton handkerchief;--in which operation he had, as Peterkin pointed out, torn off one of Lord Nelson's noses. However, the whip-cord, thus set free, was used by Peterkin as a fishing line. He merely tied a piece of oyster to the end of it. This the fish were allowed to swallow, and then they were pulled quickly ashore. But as the line was very short and we had no boat, the fish we caught were exceedingly small. One day Peterkin came up from the beach, where he had been angling, and said in a very cross tone, "I'll tell you what, Jack, I'm not going to be humbugged with catching such contemptible things any longer. I want you to swim out with me on your back, and let me fish in deep water!" "Dear me, Peterkin," replied Jack, "I had no idea you were taking the thing so much to heart, else I would have got you out of that difficulty long ago. Let me see,"--and Jack looked down at a piece of timber on which he had been labouring, with a peculiar gaze of abstraction, which he always assumed when trying to invent or discover anything. "What say you to building a boat?" he inquired, looking up hastily. "Take far too long," was the reply; "can't be bothered waiting. I want to begin at once!" Again Jack considered. "I have it!" he cried. "We'll fell a large tree and launch the trunk of it in the water, so that when you want to fish you've nothing to do but to swim out to it." "Would not a small raft do better?" said I. "Much better; but we have no ropes to bind it together with. Perhaps we may find something hereafter that will do as well, but, in the meantime, let us try the tree." This was agreed on, so we started off to a spot not far distant, where we knew of a tree that would suit us, which grew near the water's edge. As soon as we reached it Jack threw off his coat, and, wielding the axe with his sturdy arms, hacked and hewed at it for a quarter of an hour without stopping. Then he paused, and, while he sat down to rest, I continued the work. Then Peterkin made a vigorous attack on it, so that when Jack renewed his powerful blows, a few minutes cutting brought it down with a terrible crash. "Hurrah! now for it," cried Jack; "let us off with its head." So saying he began to cut through the stem again, at about six yards from the thick end. This done, he cut three strong, short poles or levers from the stout branches, with which to roll the log down the beach into the sea; for, as it was nearly two feet thick at the large end, we could not move it without such helps. With the levers, however, we rolled it slowly into the sea. Having been thus successful in launching our vessel, we next shaped the levers into rude oars or paddles, and then attempted to embark. This was easy enough to do; but, after seating ourselves astride the log, it was with the utmost difficulty we kept it from rolling round and plunging us into the water. Not that we minded that much; but we preferred, if possible, to fish in dry clothes. To be sure, our trousers were necessarily wet, as our legs were dangling in the water on each side of the log; but, as they could be easily dried, we did not care. After half an hour's practice, we became expert enough to keep our balance pretty steadily. Then Peterkin laid down his paddle, and having baited his line with a whole oyster, dropt it into deep water. "Now, then, Jack," said he, "be cautious; steer clear o' that sea-weed. There; that's it; gently, now, gently. I see a fellow at least a foot long down there, coming to--ha! that's it! Oh! bother, he's off." "Did he bite?" said Jack, urging the log onwards a little with his paddle. "Bite? ay! He took it into his mouth, but the moment I began to haul he opened his jaws and let it out again." "Let him swallow it next time," said Jack, laughing at the melancholy expression of Peterkin's visage. "There he's again," cried Peterkin, his eyes flashing with excitement. "Look out! Now then! No! Yes! No! Why, the brute _won't_ swallow it!" "Try to haul him up by the mouth, then," cried Jack. "Do it gently." A heavy sigh and a look of blank despair showed that poor Peterkin had tried and failed again. "Never mind, lad," said Jack, in a voice of sympathy; "we'll move on, and offer it to some other fish." So saying, Jack plied his paddle; but scarcely had he moved from the spot, when a fish with an enormous head and a little body darted from under a rock and swallowed the bait at once. "Got him this time,--that's a fact!" cried Peterkin, hauling in the line. "He's swallowed the bait right down to his tail, I declare. Oh what a thumper!" As the fish came struggling to the surface, we leaned forward to see it, and overbalanced the log. Peterkin threw his arms round the fish's neck; and, in another instant, we were all floundering in the water! A shout of laughter burst from us as we rose to the surface like three drowned rats, and seized hold of the log. We soon recovered our position, and sat more warily, while Peterkin secured the fish, which had well-nigh escaped in the midst of our struggles. It was little worth having, however; but, as Peterkin remarked, it was better than the smouts he had been catching for the last two or three days; so we laid it on the log before us, and having re-baited the line, dropt it in again for another. Now, while we were thus intent upon our sport, our attention was suddenly attracted by a ripple on the sea, just a few yards away from us. Peterkin shouted to us to paddle in that direction, as he thought it was a big fish, and we might have a chance of catching it. But Jack, instead of complying, said, in a deep, earnest tone of voice, which I never before heard him use,-- "Haul up your line, Peterkin; seize your paddle; quick,--it's a shark!" The horror with which we heard this may well be imagined, for it must be remembered that our legs were hanging down in the water, and we could not venture to pull them up without upsetting the log. Peterkin instantly hauled up the line; and, grasping his paddle, exerted himself to the utmost, while we also did our best to make for shore. But we were a good way off, and the log being, as I have before said, very heavy, moved but slowly through the water. We now saw the shark quite distinctly swimming round and round us, its sharp fin every now and then protruding above the water. From its active and unsteady motions, Jack knew it was making up its mind to attack us, so he urged us vehemently to paddle for our lives, while he himself set us the example. Suddenly he shouted "Look out!--there he comes!" and in a second we saw the monstrous fish dive close under us, and turn half over on his side. But we all made a great commotion with our paddles, which no doubt frightened it away for that time, as we saw it immediately after circling round us as before. "Throw the fish to him," cried Jack, in a quick, suppressed voice; "we'll make the shore in time yet if we can keep him off for a few minutes." Peterkin stopped one instant to obey the command, and then plied his paddle again with all his might. No sooner had the fish fallen on the water than we observed the shark to sink. In another second we saw its white breast rising; for sharks always turn over on their sides when about to seize their prey, their mouths being not at the point of their heads like those of other fish, but, as it were, under their chins. In another moment his snout rose above the water,--his wide jaws, armed with a terrific double row of teeth, appeared. The dead fish was engulfed, and the shark sank out of sight. But Jack was mistaken in supposing that it would be satisfied. In a very few minutes it returned to us, and its quick motions led us to fear that it would attack us at once. "Stop paddling," cried Jack suddenly. "I see it coming up behind us. Now, obey my orders quickly. Our lives may depend on it Ralph. Peterkin, do your best to _balance the log_. Don't look out for the shark. Don't glance behind you. Do nothing but balance the log." {A dreadful adventure: p77.jpg} Peterkin and I instantly did as we were ordered, being only too glad to do anything that afforded us a chance or a hope of escape, for we had implicit confidence in Jack's courage and wisdom. For a few seconds, that seemed long minutes to my mind, we sat thus silently; but I could not resist glancing backward, despite the orders to the contrary. On doing so, I saw Jack sitting rigid like a statue, with his paddle raised, his lips compressed, and his eye-brows bent over his eyes, which glared savagely from beneath them down into the water. I also saw the shark, to my horror, quite close under the log, in the act of darting towards Jack's foot. I could scarce suppress a cry on beholding this. In another moment the shark rose. Jack drew his leg suddenly from the water, and threw it over the log. The monster's snout rubbed against the log as it passed, and revealed its hideous jaws, into which Jack instantly plunged the paddle, and thrust it down its throat. So violent was the act that Jack rose to his feet in performing it; the log was thereby rolled completely over, and we were once more plunged into the water. We all rose, spluttering and gasping, in a moment. "Now then, strike out for shore," cried Jack. "Here, Peterkin, catch hold of my collar, and kick out with a will." Peterkin did as he was desired, and Jack struck out with such force that he cut through the water like a boat; while I, being free from all encumbrance, succeeded in keeping up with him. As we had by this time drawn pretty near to the shore, a few minutes more sufficed to carry us into shallow water; and, finally, we landed in safety, though very much exhausted, and not a little frightened by our terrible adventure. CHAPTER VIII. The beauties of the bottom of the sea tempt Peterkin to dive--How he did it--More difficulties overcome--The water garden--Curious creatures of the sea--The tank--Candles missed very much, and the candle-nut tree discovered--Wonderful account of Peterkin's first voyage--Cloth found growing on a tree--A plan projected, and arms prepared for offence and defence--A dreadful cry. Our encounter with the shark was the first great danger that had befallen us since landing on this island, and we felt very seriously affected by it, especially when we considered that we had so often unwittingly incurred the same danger before while bathing. We were now forced to take to fishing again in the shallow water, until we should succeed in constructing a raft. What troubled us most, however, was, that we were compelled to forego our morning swimming excursions. We did, indeed, continue to enjoy our bathe in the shallow water, but Jack and I found that one great source of our enjoyment was gone, when we could no longer dive down among the beautiful coral groves at the bottom of the lagoon. We had come to be so fond of this exercise, and to take such an interest in watching the formations of coral and the gambols of the many beautiful fish amongst the forests of red and green sea-weeds, that we had become quite familiar with the appearance of the fish and the localities that they chiefly haunted. We had also become expert divers. But we made it a rule never to stay long under water at a time. Jack told me that to do so often was bad for the lungs, and, instead of affording us enjoyment, would ere long do us a serious injury. So we never stayed at the bottom as long as we might have done, but came up frequently to the top for fresh air, and dived down again immediately. Sometimes, when Jack happened to be in a humorous frame, he would seat himself at the bottom of the sea on one of the brain corals, as if he were seated on a large paddock-stool, and then make faces at me, in order, if possible, to make me laugh under water. At first, when he took me unawares, he nearly succeeded, and I had to shoot to the surface in order to laugh; but afterwards I became aware of his intentions, and, being naturally of a grave disposition, I had no difficulty in restraining myself. I used often to wonder how poor Peterkin would have liked to be with us; and he sometimes expressed much regret at being unable to join us. I used to do my best to gratify him, poor fellow, by relating all the wonders that we saw; but this, instead of satisfying, seemed only to whet his curiosity the more, so one day we prevailed on him to try to go down with us. But, although a brave boy in every other way, Peterkin was very nervous in the water, and it was with difficulty we got him to consent to be taken down, for he could never have managed to push himself down to the bottom without assistance. But no sooner had we pulled him down a yard or so into the deep clear water, than he began to struggle and kick violently, so we were forced to let him go, when he rose out of the water like a cork, gave a loud gasp and a frightful roar, and struck out for the land with the utmost possible haste. Now, all this pleasure we were to forego, and when we thought thereon, Jack and I felt very much depressed in our spirits. I could see, also, that Peterkin grieved and sympathized with us, for, when talking about this matter, he refrained from jesting and bantering us upon it. As, however, a man's difficulties usually set him upon devising methods to overcome them, whereby he often discovers better things than those he may have lost, so this our difficulty induced us to think of searching for a large pool among the rocks, where the water should be deep enough for diving yet so surrounded by rocks as to prevent sharks from getting at us. And such a pool we afterwards found, which proved to be very much better than our most sanguine hopes anticipated. It was situated not more than ten minutes' walk from our camp, and was in the form of a small deep bay or basin, the entrance to which, besides being narrow, was so shallow that no fish so large as a shark could get in, at least not unless he should be a remarkably thin one. Inside of this basin, which we called our Water Garden, the coral formations were much more wonderful, and the sea-weed plants far more lovely and vividly coloured, than in the lagoon itself. And the water was so clear and still, that, although very deep, you could see the minutest object at the bottom. Besides this, there was a ledge of rock which overhung the basin at its deepest part, from which we could dive pleasantly and whereon Peterkin could sit and see not only all the wonders I had described to him, but also see Jack and me creeping amongst the marine shrubbery at the bottom, like, as--he expressed it,--"two great white sea-monsters." During these excursions of ours to the bottom of the sea, we began to get an insight into the manners and customs of its inhabitants, and to make discoveries of wonderful things, the like of which we never before conceived. Among other things, we were deeply interested with the operations of the little coral insect which, I was informed by Jack, is supposed to have entirely constructed many of the numerous islands in Pacific Ocean. And, certainly, when we considered the great reef which these insects had formed round the island on which we were cast, and observed their ceaseless activity in building their myriad cells, it did at first seem as if this might be true; but then, again, when I looked at the mountains of the island, and reflected that there were thousands of such, many of them much higher, in the South Seas, I doubted that there must be some mistake here. But more of this hereafter. I also became much taken up with the manners and appearance of the anemones, and star-fish, and crabs, and sea-urchins, and such-like creatures; and was not content with watching those I saw during my dives in the Water Garden, but I must needs scoop out a hole in the coral rock close to it, which I filled with salt water, and stocked with sundry specimens of anemones and shell-fish, in order to watch more closely how they were in the habit of passing their time. Our burning-glass also now became a great treasure to me, as it enabled me to magnify, and so to perceive more clearly the forms and actions of these curious creatures of the deep. Having now got ourselves into a very comfortable condition, we began to talk of a project which we had long had in contemplation,--namely, to travel entirely round the island; in order, first, to ascertain whether it contained any other productions which might be useful to us; and, second, to see whether there might be any place more convenient and suitable for our permanent residence than that on which we were now encamped. Not that we were in any degree dissatisfied with it; on the contrary, we entertained quite a home-feeling to our bower and its neighbourhood; but if a better place did exist, there was no reason why we should not make use of it. At any rate, it would be well to know of its existence. We had much earnest talk over this matter. But Jack proposed that, before undertaking such an excursion, we should supply ourselves with good defensive arms, for, as we intended not only to go round all the shore, but to ascend most of the valleys, before returning home, we should be likely to meet in with, he would not say dangers, but, at least, with everything that existed on the island, whatever that might be. "Besides," said Jack, "it won't do for us to live on cocoa-nuts and oysters always. No doubt they are very excellent in their way, but I think a little animal food, now and then, would be agreeable as well as good for us; and as there are many small birds among the trees, some of which are probably very good to eat, I think it would be a capital plan to make bows and arrows, with which we could easily knock them over." "First rate!" cried Peterkin. "You will make the bows, Jack, and I'll try my hand at the arrows. The fact is, I'm quite tired of throwing stones at the birds. I began the very day we landed, I think, and have persevered up to the present time, but I've never hit anything yet." "You forget," said I, "you hit me one day on the shin." "Ah, true," replied Peterkin, "and a precious shindy you kicked up in consequence. But you were at least four yards away from the impudent paroquet I aimed at; so you see what a horribly bad shot I am." "But," said I, "Jack, you cannot make three bows and arrows before to- morrow, and would it not be a pity to waste time, now that we have made up our minds to go on this expedition? Suppose that you make one bow and arrow for yourself, and we can take our clubs?" "That's true, Ralph. The day is pretty far advanced, and I doubt if I can make even one bow before dark. To be sure I might work by fire-light, after the sun goes down." We had, up to this time, been in the habit of going to bed with the sun, as we had no pressing call to work o' nights; and, indeed, our work during the day was usually hard enough,--what between fishing, and improving our bower, and diving in the Water Garden, and rambling in the woods; so that, when night came, we were usually very glad to retire to our beds. But now that we had a desire to work at night, we felt a wish for candles. "Won't a good blazing fire give you light enough?" inquired Peterkin. "Yes," replied Jack, "quite enough; but then it will give us a great deal more than enough of heat in this warm climate of ours." "True," said Peterkin; "I forgot that. It would roast us." "Well, as you're always doing that at any rate," remarked Jack, "we could scarcely call it a change. But the fact is, I've been thinking over this subject before. There is a certain nut growing in these islands which is called the candle-nut, because the natives use it instead of candles, and I know all about it, and how to prepare it for burning--" "Then why don't you do it?" interrupted Peterkin. "Why have you kept us in the dark so long, you vile philosopher?" "Because," said Jack, "I have not seen the tree yet, and I'm not sure that I should know either the tree or the nuts if I did see them. You see, I forget the description." "Ah! that's just the way with me," said Peterkin with a deep sigh. "I never could keep in my mind for half an hour the few descriptions I ever attempted to remember. The very first voyage I ever made was caused by my mistaking a description, or forgetting it, which is the same thing. And a horrible voyage it was. I had to fight with the captain the whole way out, and made the homeward voyage by swimming!" "Come, Peterkin," said I, "you can't get even _me_ to believe that." "Perhaps not, but it's true, notwithstanding," returned Peterkin, pretending to be hurt at my doubting his word. "Let us hear how it happened," said Jack, while a good-natured smile overspread his face. "Well, you must know," began Peterkin, "that the very day before I went to sea, I was greatly taken up with a game at hockey, which I was playing with my old school-fellows for the last time before leaving them. You see I was young then, Ralph." Peterkin gazed, in an abstracted and melancholy manner, out to sea! "Well, in the midst of the game, my uncle, who had taken all the bother and trouble of getting me bound 'prentice and rigged out, came and took me aside, and told me that he was called suddenly away from home, and would not be able to see me aboard, as he had intended. 'However,' said he, 'the captain knows you are coming, so that's not of much consequence; but as you'll have to find the ship yourself, you must remember her name and description. D'ye hear, boy?' I certainly did hear, but I'm afraid I did not understand, for my mind was so taken up with the game, which I saw my side was losing, that I began to grow impatient, and the moment my uncle finished his description of the ship, and bade me good-bye, I bolted back to my game, with only a confused idea of three masts, and a green painted tafferel, and a gilt figure-head of Hercules with his club at the bow. Next day I was so much cast down with everybody saying good-bye, and a lot o' my female friends cryin' horribly over me, that I did not start for the harbour, where the ship was lying among a thousand others, till it was almost too late. So I had to run the whole way. When I reached the pier, there were so many masts, and so much confusion, that I felt quite humblebumbled in my faculties. 'Now,' said I to myself, 'Peterkin, you're in a fix.' Then I fancied I saw a gilt figure-head and three masts, belonging to a ship just about to start; so I darted on board, but speedily jumped on shore again, when I found that two of the masts belonged to another vessel, and the figurehead to a third! At last I caught sight of what I made sure was it,--a fine large vessel just casting off her moorings. The tafferel was green. Three masts,--yes, that must be it,--and the gilt figure-head of Hercules. To be sure it had a three-pronged pitchfork in its hand instead of a club; but that might be my uncle's mistake; or perhaps Hercules sometimes varied his weapons. 'Cast off!' roared a voice from the quarter-deck. 'Hold on!' cried I, rushing frantically through the crowd. 'Hold on! hold on!' repeated some of the bystanders, while the men at the ropes delayed for a minute. This threw the captain into a frightful rage; for some of his friends had come down to see him off, and having his orders contradicted so flatly was too much for him. However, the delay was sufficient. I took a race and a good leap; the ropes were cast off; the steam-tug gave a puff, and we started. Suddenly the captain was up to me: 'Where did you come from, you scamp, and what do you want here?' "'Please, sir,' said I, touching my cap, 'I'm you're new 'prentice come aboard.' "'New 'Prentice,' said he, stamping, 'I've got no new 'prentice. My boys are all aboard already. This is a trick, you young blackguard. You've run away, you have;' and the captain stamped about the deck and swore dreadfully; for, you see, the thought of having to stop the ship and lower a boat and lose half an hour, all for the slake of sending a small boy ashore, seemed to make him very angry. Besides, it was blowin' fresh outside the harbour, so that, to have let the steamer alongside to put me into it was no easy job. Just as we were passing the pier-head, where several boats were rowing into harbour, the captain came up to me,-- "'You've run away, you blackguard,' he said, giving me a box on the ear. "'No I haven't,' said I, angrily; for the box was by no means a light one. "Hark'ee, boy, can you swim?' "'Yes,' said I. "'Then do it,' and, seizing me by my trousers and the nape of my neck, he tossed me over the side into the sea. The fellows in the boats at the end of the pier, backed their oars on seeing this; but observing that I could swim, they allowed me to make the best of my way to the pier-head. So, you see, Ralph, that I really did swim my first homeward voyage." Jack laughed and patted Peterkin on the shoulder. "But tell us about the candle-nut tree," said I; "you were talking about it." "Very true," said Jack, "but I fear I can remember little about it. I believe the nut is about the size of a walnut; and I think that the leaves are white, but I am not sure." "Eh! ha! hum!" exclaimed Peterkin, "I saw a tree answering to that description this very day." "Did you?" cried Jack. "Is it far from this?" "No, not half a mile." "Then lead me to it," said Jack, seizing his axe. In a few minutes we were all three pushing through the underwood of the forest, headed by Peterkin. We soon came to the tree in question, which, after Jack had closely examined it, we concluded must be the candle-nut tree. Its leaves were of a beautiful silvery white, and formed a fine contrast to the dark-green foliage of the surrounding trees. We immediately filled our pockets with the nuts, after which Jack said,-- "Now, Peterkin, climb that cocoa-nut tree and cut me one of the long branches." This was soon done, but it cost some trouble, for the stem was very high, and as Peterkin usually pulled nuts from the younger trees, he was not much accustomed to climbing the high ones. The leaf or branch was a very large one, and we were surprised at its size and strength. Viewed from a little distance, the cocoa-nut tree seems to be a tall, straight stem, without a single branch except at the top, where there is a tuft of feathery-looking leaves, that seem to wave like soft plumes in the wind. But when we saw one of these leaves or branches at our feet, we found it to be a strong stalk, about fifteen feet long, with a number of narrow, pointed leaflets ranged alternately on each side. But what seemed to us the most wonderful thing about it was a curious substance resembling cloth, which was wrapped round the thick end of the stalk, where it had been cut from the tree. Peterkin told us that he had the greatest difficulty in separating the branch from the stem, on account of this substance, as it was wrapped quite round the tree, and, he observed, round all the other branches, thus forming a strong support to the large leaves while exposed to high winds. When I call this substance cloth I do not exaggerate. Indeed, with regard to all the things I saw during my eventful career in the South Seas, I have been exceedingly careful not to exaggerate, or in any way to mislead or deceive my readers. This cloth, I say, was remarkably like to coarse brown cotton cloth. It had a seam or fibre down the centre of it, from which diverged other fibres, about the size of a bristle. There were two layers of these fibres, very long and tough, the one layer crossing the other obliquely, and the whole was cemented together with a still finer fibrous and adhesive substance. When we regarded it attentively, we could with difficulty believe that it had not been woven by human hands. This remarkable piece of cloth we stripped carefully off, and found it to be above two feet long, by a foot broad, and we carried it home with us as a great prize. Jack now took one of the leaflets, and, cutting out the central spine or stalk, hurried back with it to our camp. Having made a small fire, he baked the nuts slightly, and then pealed off the husks. After this he wished to bore a hole in them, which, not having anything better at hand at the time, he did with the point of our useless pencil-case. Then he strung them on the cocoa-nut spine, and on putting a light to the topmost nut, we found to our joy that it burned with a clear, beautiful flame; upon seeing which, Peterkin sprang up and danced round the fire for at least five minutes in the excess of his satisfaction. "Now lads," said Jack, extinguishing our candle, the sun will set in an hour, so we have no time to lose. "I shall go and cut a young tree to make my bow out of, and you had better each of you go and select good strong sticks for clubs, and we'll set to work at them after dark." So saying he shouldered his axe and went off, followed by Peterkin, while I took up the piece of newly discovered cloth, and fell to examining its structure. So engrossed was I in this that I was still sitting in the same attitude and occupation when my companions returned. "I told you so!" cried Peterkin, with a loud laugh. "Oh, Ralph, you're incorrigible. See, there's a club for you. I was sure, when we left you looking at that bit of stuff, that we would find you poring over it when we came back, so I just cut a club for you as well as for myself." "Thank you, Peterkin," said I. "It was kind of you to do that, instead of scolding me for a lazy fellow, as I confess I deserve." "Oh! as to that," returned Peterkin, "I'll blow you up yet, if you wish it--only it would be of no use if I did, for you're a perfect mule!" As it was now getting dark we lighted our candle, and placing it in a holder made of two crossing branches, inside of our bower, we seated ourselves on our leafy beds and began to work. "I intend to appropriate the bow for my own use," said Jack, chipping the piece of wood he had brought with his axe. "I used to be a pretty fair shot once. But what's that you're doing?" he added, looking at Peterkin, who had drawn the end of a long pole into the tent, and was endeavouring to fit a small piece of the hoop-iron to the end of it. "I'm going to enlist into the Lancers," answered Peterkin. "You see, Jack, I find the club rather an unwieldy instrument for my delicately- formed muscles, and I flatter myself I shall do more execution with a spear." "Well, if length constitutes power," said Jack, "you'll certainly be invincible." The pole which Peterkin had cut was full twelve feet long, being a very strong but light and tough young tree, which merely required thinning at the butt to be a serviceable weapon. "That's a very good idea," said I. "Which--this?" inquired Peterkin, pointing to the spear. "Yes;" I replied. "Humph!" said he; "you'd find it a pretty tough and matter-of-fact idea, if you had it stuck through your gizzard, old boy!" "I mean the idea of making it is a good one," said I, laughing. "And, now I think of it, I'll change my plan, too. I don't think much of a club, so I'll make me a sling out of this piece of cloth. I used to be very fond of slinging, ever since I read of David slaying Goliath the Philistine, and I was once thought to be expert at it." So I set to work to manufacture a sling. For a long time we all worked very busily without speaking. At length Peterkin looked up: "I say, Jack, I'm sorry to say I must apply to you for another strip of your handkerchief, to tie on this rascally head with. It's pretty well torn at any rate, so you won't miss it." Jack proceeded to comply with this request when Peterkin suddenly laid his hand on his arm and arrested him. "Hist, man," said he, "be tender; you should never be needlessly cruel if you can help it. Do try to shave past Lord Nelson's mouth without tearing it, if possible! Thanks. There are plenty more handkerchiefs on the cocoa-nut trees." Poor Peterkin! with what pleasant feelings I recall and record his jests and humorous sayings now! While we were thus engaged, we were startled by a distant but most strange and horrible cry. It seemed to come from the sea, but was so far away that we could not clearly distinguish its precise direction. Rushing out of our bower, we hastened down to the beach and stayed to listen. Again it came quite loud and distinct on the night air,--a prolonged, hideous cry, something like the braying of an ass. The moon had risen, and we could see the islands in and beyond the lagoon quite plainly, but there was no object visible to account for such a cry. A strong gust of wind was blowing from the point whence the sound came, but this died away while we were gazing out to sea. "What can it be?" said Peterkin, in a low whisper, while we all involuntarily crept closer to each other. "Do you know," said Jack, "I have heard that mysterious sound twice before, but never so loud as to-night. Indeed it was so faint that I thought I must have merely fancied it, so, as I did not wish to alarm you, I said nothing about it." We listened for a long time for the sound again, but as it did not come, we returned to the bower and resumed our work. "Very strange," said Peterkin, quite gravely. "Do you believe in ghosts, Ralph?" "No," I answered, "I do not. Nevertheless I must confess that strange, unaccountable sounds, such as we have just heard, make me feel a little uneasy." "What say you to it, Jack?" "I neither believe in ghosts nor feel uneasy," he replied. "I never saw a ghost myself, and I never met with any one who had; and I have generally found that strange and unaccountable things have almost always been accounted for, and found to be quite simple, on close examination. I certainly can't imagine what _that_ sound is; but I'm quite sure I shall find out before long,--and if it's a ghost I'll--" "Eat it," cried Peterkin. "Yes, I'll eat it! Now, then, my bow and two arrows are finished; so if you're ready we had better turn in." By this time Peterkin had thinned down his spear and tied an iron point very cleverly to the end of it; I had formed a sling, the lines of which were composed of thin strips of the cocoa-nut cloth, plaited; and Jack had made a stout bow, nearly five feet long, with two arrows, feathered with two or three large plumes which some bird had dropt. They had no barbs, but Jack said that if arrows were well feathered, they did not require iron points, but would fly quite well if merely sharpened at the point; which I did not know before. "A feathered arrow without a barb," said he, "is a good weapon, but a barbed arrow without feathers is utterly useless." The string of the bow was formed of our piece of whip-cord, part of which, as he did not like to cut it, was rolled round the bow. Although thus prepared for a start on the morrow, we thought it wise to exercise ourselves a little in the use of our weapons before starting, so we spent the whole of the next day in practising. And it was well we did so, for we found that our arms were very imperfect, and that we were far from perfect in the use of them. First, Jack found that the bow was much too strong, and he had to thin it. Also the spear was much too heavy, and so had to be reduced in thickness, although nothing would induce Peterkin to have it shortened. My sling answered very well, but I had fallen so much out of practice that my first stone knocked off Peterkin's hat, and narrowly missed making a second Goliath of him. However, after having spent the whole day in diligent practice, we began to find some of our former expertness returning--at least Jack and I did. As for Peterkin, being naturally a neat-handed boy, he soon handled his spear well, and could run full tilt at a cocoa nut, and hit it with great precision once out of every five times. But I feel satisfied that we owed much of our rapid success to the unflagging energy of Jack, who insisted that, since we had made him Captain, we should obey him; and he kept us at work from morning till night, perseveringly, at the same thing. Peterkin wished very much to run about and stick his spear into everything he passed; but Jack put up a cocoa nut, and would not let him leave off running at that for a moment, except when he wanted to rest. We laughed at Jack for this, but we were both convinced that it did us much good. That night we examined and repaired our arms ere we lay down to rest, although we were much fatigued, in order that we might be in readiness to set out on our expedition at daylight on the following morning. CHAPTER IX. Prepare for a journey round the island--Sagacious reflections--Mysterious appearances and startling occurrences. Scarcely had the sun shot its first ray across the bosom of the broad Pacific, when Jack sprang to his feet, and, hallooing in Peterkin's ear to awaken him, ran down the beach to take his customary dip in the sea. We did not, as was our wont, bathe that morning in our Water Garden, but, in order to save time, refreshed ourselves in the shallow water just opposite the bower. Our breakfast was also despatched without loss of time, and in less than an hour afterwards all our preparations for the journey were completed. In addition to his ordinary dress, Jack tied a belt of cocoa-nut cloth round his waist, into which he thrust the axe. I was also advised to put on a belt and carry a short cudgel or bludgeon in it; for, as Jack truly remarked, the sling would be of little use if we should chance to come to close quarters with any wild animal. As for Peterkin, notwithstanding that he carried such a long, and I must add, frightful-looking spear over his shoulder, we could not prevail on him to leave his club behind; "for," said he, "a spear at close quarters is not worth a button." I must say that it seemed to me that the club was, to use his own style of language, not worth a button-hole; for it was all knotted over at the head, something like the club which I remember to have observed in picture-books of Jack the Giant Killer, besides being so heavy that he required to grasp it with both hands in order to wield it at all. However, he took it with him, and, in this manner we set out upon our travels. We did not consider it necessary to carry any food with us, as we knew that wherever we went we should be certain to fall in with cocoa-nut trees; having which, we were amply supplied, as Peterkin said, with meat and drink and pocket-handkerchiefs! I took the precaution, however, to put the burning-glass into my pocket, lest we should want fire. The morning was exceeding lovely. It was one of that very still and peaceful sort which made the few noises that we heard seem to be _quiet_ noises. I know no other way of expressing this idea. Noises which so far from interrupting the universal tranquillity of earth, sea, and sky--rather tended to reveal to us how quiet the world around us really was. Such sounds as I refer to were, the peculiarly melancholy--yet, it seemed to me, cheerful--plaint of sea-birds floating on the glassy water, or sailing in the sky, also the subdued twittering of little birds among the bushes, the faint ripples on the beach, and the solemn boom of the surf upon the distant coral reef. We felt very glad in our hearts as we walked along the sands side by side. For my part, I felt so deeply overjoyed, that I was surprised at my own sensations, and fell into a reverie upon the causes of happiness. I came to the conclusion that a state of profound peace and repose, both in regard to outward objects and within the soul, is the happiest condition in which man can be placed; for, although I had many a time been most joyful and happy when engaged in bustling, energetic, active pursuits or amusements, I never found that such joy or satisfaction was so deep or so pleasant to reflect upon as that which I now experienced. And I was the more confirmed in this opinion when I observed, and, indeed, was told by himself, that Peterkin's happiness was also very great; yet he did not express this by dancing, as was his wont, nor did he give so much as a single shout, but walked quietly between us with his eye sparkling, and a joyful smile upon his countenance. My reader must not suppose that I thought all this in the clear and methodical manner in which I have set it down here. These thoughts did, indeed, pass through my mind, but they did so in a very confused and indefinite manner, for I was young at that time, and not much given to deep reflections. Neither did I consider that the peace whereof I write is not to be found in this world--at least in its perfection, although I have since learned that by religion a man may attain to a very great degree of it. I have said that Peterkin walked along the sands between us. We had two ways of walking together about our island. When we travelled through the woods, we always did so in single file, as by this method we advanced with greater facility, the one treading in the other's footsteps. In such cases Jack always took the lead, Peterkin followed, and I brought up the rear. But when we travelled along the sands, which extended almost in an unbroken line of glistening white round the island, we marched abreast, as we found this method more sociable, and every way more pleasant. Jack, being the tallest, walked next the sea, and Peterkin marched between us, as by this arrangement either of us could talk to him or he to us, while if Jack and I happened to wish to converse together, we could conveniently do so over Peterkin's head. Peterkin used to say, in reference to this arrangement, that had he been as tall as either of us, our order of march might have been the same, for, as Jack often used to scold him for letting everything we said to him pass in at one ear and out at the other, his head could of course form no interruption to our discourse. We were now fairly started. Half a mile's walk conveyed us round a bend in the land which shut out our bower from view, and for some time we advanced at a brisk pace without speaking, though our eyes were not idle, but noted everything, in the woods, on the shore, or in the sea, that was interesting. After passing the ridge of land that formed one side of our valley--the Valley of the Wreck--we beheld another small vale lying before us in all the luxuriant loveliness of tropical vegetation. We had, indeed, seen it before from the mountain-top, but we had no idea that it would turn out to be so much more lovely when we were close to it. We were about to commence the exploration of this valley, when Peterkin stopped us, and directed our attention to a very remarkable appearance in advance along the shore. "What's yon, think you?" said he, levelling his spear, as if he expected an immediate attack from the object in question, though it was full half a mile distant. As he spoke, there appeared a white column above the rocks, as if of steam or spray. It rose upwards to a height of several feet, and then disappeared. Had this been near the sea, we would not have been so greatly surprised, as it might in that case have been the surf, for at this part of the coast the coral reef approached so near to the island that in some parts it almost joined it. There was therefore no lagoon between, and the heavy surf of the ocean beat almost up to the rocks. But this white column appeared about fifty yards inland. The rocks at the place were rugged, and they stretched across the sandy beach into the sea. Scarce had we ceased expressing our surprise at this sight, when another column flew upwards for a few seconds, not far from the spot where the first had been seen, and disappeared; and so, at long irregular intervals, these strange sights recurred. We were now quite sure that the columns were watery or composed of spray, but what caused them we could not guess, so we determined to go and see. In a few minutes we gained the spot, which was very rugged and precipitous, and, moreover, quite damp with the falling of the spray. We had much ado to pass over dry-shod. The ground also was full of holes here and there. Now, while we stood anxiously waiting for the re-appearance of these water-spouts, we heard a low, rumbling sound near us, which quickly increased to a gargling and hissing noise, and a moment afterwards a thick spout of water burst upwards from a hole in the rock, and spouted into the air with much violence, and so close to where Jack and I were standing that it nearly touched us. We sprang to one side, but not before a cloud of spray descended, and drenched us both to the skin. Peterkin, who was standing farther off, escaped with a few drops, and burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter on beholding our miserable plight. "Mind your eye!" he shouted eagerly, "there goes another!" The words were scarcely out of his mouth when there came up a spout from another hole, which served us exactly in the same manner as before. Peterkin now shrieked with laughter; but his merriment was abruptly put a stop to by the gurgling noise occurring close to where he stood. "Where'll it spout this time, I wonder?" he said, looking about with some anxiety, and preparing to run. Suddenly there came a loud hiss or snort; a fierce spout of water burst up between Peterkin's legs, blew him off his feet, enveloped him in its spray, and hurled him to the ground. He fell with so much violence that we feared he must have broken some of his bones, and ran anxiously to his assistance; but fortunately he had fallen on a clump of tangled herbage, in which he lay sprawling in a most deplorable condition. It was now our turn to laugh; but as we were not yet quite sure that he was unhurt, and as we knew not when or where the next spout might arise, we assisted him hastily to jump up and hurry from the spot. I may here add, that although I am quite certain that the spout of water was very strong, and that it blew Peterkin completely off his legs, I am not quite certain of the exact height to which it lifted him, being somewhat startled by the event, and blinded partially by the spray, so that my power of observation was somewhat impaired for the moment. "What's to be done now?" inquired Peterkin ruefully. "Make a fire, lad, and dry ourselves," replied Jack. "And here is material ready to our hand," said I, picking up a dried branch of a tree, as we hurried up to the woods. In about an hour after this mishap our clothes were again dried. While they were hanging up before the fire, we walked down to the beach, and soon observed that these curious spouts took place immediately after the fall of a huge wave, never before it; and, moreover, that the spouts did not take place excepting when the billow was an extremely large one. From this we concluded that there must be a subterraneous channel in the rock into which the water was driven by the larger waves, and finding no way of escape except through these small holes, was thus forced up violently through them. At any rate, we could not conceive any other reason for these strange water-spouts, and as this seemed a very simple and probable one, we forthwith adopted it. "I say, Ralph, what's that in the water? is it a shark?" said Jack, just as we were about to quit the place. I immediately ran to the overhanging ledge of rock, from which he was looking down into the sea, and bent over it. There I saw a very faint pale object of a greenish colour, which seemed to move slightly while I looked at it. "It's like a fish of some sort," said I. "Hallo, Peterkin!" cried Jack, "fetch your spear; here's work for it." But when we tried to reach the object, the spear proved to be too short. "There, now," said Peterkin with a sneer, "you were always telling me it was too long." Jack now drove the spear forcibly towards the object, and let go his hold; but, although it seemed to be well aimed, he must have missed, for the handle soon rose again; and when the spear was drawn up, there was the pale green object in exactly the same spot, slowly moving its tail. "Very odd," said Jack. But although it was undoubtedly very odd, and, although Jack and all of us plunged the spear at it repeatedly, we could neither hit it nor drive it away, so we were compelled to continue our journey without discovering what it was. I was very much perplexed at this strange appearance in the water, and could not get it out of my mind for a long time afterwards. However, I quieted myself by resolving that I would pay a visit to it again at some more convenient season. CHAPTER X. Make discovery of many excellent roots and fruits--The resources of the Coral Island gradually unfolded--The banian-tree--Another tree which is supported by natural planks--Water-fowl found--A very remarkable discovery, and a very peculiar murder--We luxuriate on the fat of the land. Our examination of the little valley proved to be altogether most satisfactory. We found in it not only similar trees to those we had already seen in our own valley, but also one or two others of a different species. We had also the satisfaction of discovering a peculiar vegetable, which Jack concluded must certainly be that of which he had read as being very common among the South Sea islanders, and which was named _taro_. Also we found a large supply of yams, and another root like a potato in appearance. As these were all quite new to us, we regarded our lot as a most fortunate one, in being thus cast on an island which was so prolific and so well stored with all the necessaries of life. Long afterwards we found out that this island of ours was no better in these respects than thousands of other islands in those seas. Indeed, many of them were much richer and more productive; but that did not render us the less grateful for our present good fortune. We each put one of these roots in our pocket, intending to use them for our supper; of which more hereafter. We also saw many beautiful birds here, and traces of some four-footed animal again. Meanwhile the sun began to descend, so we returned to the shore, and pushed on round the spouting rocks into the next valley. This was that valley of which I have spoken as running across the entire island. It was by far the largest and most beautiful that we had yet looked upon. Here were trees of every shape and size and hue which it is possible to conceive of, many of which we had not seen in the other valleys; for, the stream in this valley being larger, and the mould much richer than in the Valley of the Wreck, it was clothed with a more luxuriant growth of trees and plants. Some trees were dark glossy green, others of a rich and warm hue, contrasting well with those of a pale light green, which were everywhere abundant. Among these we recognised the broad dark heads of the bread-fruit, with its golden fruit; the pure, silvery foliage of the candle-nut, and several species which bore a strong resemblance to the pine; while here and there, in groups and in single trees, rose the tall forms of the cocoa- nut palms, spreading abroad, and waving their graceful plumes high above all the rest, as if they were a superior race of stately giants keeping guard over these luxuriant forests. Oh! it was a most enchanting scene, and I thanked God for having created such delightful spots for the use of man. Now, while we were gazing around us in silent admiration, Jack uttered an exclamation of surprise, and, pointing to an object a little to one side of us, said,-- "That's a banian-tree." "And what's a banian-tree?" inquired Peterkin, as we walked towards it. "A very curious one, as you shall see presently," replied Jack. "It is called the _aoa_ here, if I recollect rightly, and has a wonderful peculiarity about it. What an enormous one it is, to be sure." "_It_!" repeated Peterkin; "why, there are dozens of banians here! What do you mean by talking bad grammar? Is your philosophy deserting you, Jack?" "There is but one tree here of this kind," returned Jack, "as you will perceive if you will examine it." And, sure enough, we did find that what we had supposed was a forest of trees was in reality only one. Its bark was of a light colour, and had a shining appearance, the leaves being lance-shaped, small, and of a beautiful pea-green. But the wonderful thing about it was, that the branches, which grew out from the stem horizontally, sent down long shoots or fibres to the ground, which, taking root, had themselves become trees, and were covered with bark like the tree itself. Many of these fibres had descended from the branches at various distances, and thus supported them on natural pillars, some of which were so large and strong, that it was not easy at first to distinguish the offspring from the parent stem. The fibres were of all sizes and in all states of advancement, from the pillars we have just mentioned to small cords which hung down and were about to take root, and thin brown threads still far from the ground, which swayed about with every motion of wind. In short, it seemed to us that, if there were only space afforded to it, this single tree would at length cover the whole island. Shortly after this we came upon another remarkable tree, which, as its peculiar formation afterwards proved extremely useful to us, merits description. It was a splendid chestnut, but its proper name Jack did not know. However, there were quantities of fine nuts upon it, some of which we put in our pockets. But its stem was the wonderful part of it. It rose to about twelve feet without a branch, and was not of great thickness; on the contrary, it was remarkably slender for the size of the tree; but, to make up for this, there were four or five wonderful projections in this stem, which I cannot better describe than by asking the reader to suppose that five planks of two inches thick and three feet broad had been placed round the trunk of the tree, with their _edges_ closely fixed to it, from the ground up to the branches, and that these planks had been covered over with the bark of the tree and incorporated with it. In short, they were just natural buttresses, without which the stem could not have supported its heavy and umbrageous top. We found these chestnuts to be very numerous. They grew chiefly on the banks of the stream, and were of all sizes. While we were examining a small tree of this kind, Jack chipped a piece off a buttress with his axe, and found the wood to be firm and easily cut. He then struck the axe into it with all his force, and very soon split it off close to the tree, first, however, having cut it across transversely above and below. By this means he satisfied himself that we could now obtain short planks, as it were all ready sawn, of any size and thickness that we desired; which was a very great discovery indeed, perhaps the most important we had yet made. We now wended our way back to the coast, intending to encamp near the beach, as we found that the mosquitoes were troublesome in the forest. On our way we could not help admiring the birds which flew and chirped around us. Among them we observed a pretty kind of paroquet, with a green body, a blue head, and a red breast; also a few beautiful turtledoves, and several flocks of wood-pigeons. The hues of many of these birds were extremely vivid,--bright green, blue, and scarlet, being the prevailing tints. We made several attempts throughout the day to bring down one of these, both with the bow and the sling,--not for mere sport, but to ascertain whether they were good for food. But we invariably missed, although once or twice we were very near hitting. As evening drew on, however, a flock of pigeons flew past. I slung a stone into the midst of them at a venture, and had the good fortune to kill one. We were startled, soon after, by a loud whistling noise above our heads; and on looking up, saw a flock of wild ducks making for the coast. We watched these, and, observing where they alighted, followed them up until we came upon a most lovely blue lake, not more than two hundred yards long, imbosomed in verdant trees. Its placid surface, which reflected every leaf and stem, as if in a mirror, was covered with various species of wild ducks, feeding among the sedges and broad-leaved water-plants which floated on it, while numerous birds like water-hens ran to and fro most busily on its margin. These all with one accord flew tumultuously away the instant we made our appearance. While walking along the margin we observed fish in the water, but of what sort we could not tell. Now, as we neared the shore, Jack and I said we would go a little out of our way to see if we could procure one of those ducks; so, directing Peterkin to go straight to the shore and kindle a fire, we separated, promising to rejoin him speedily. But we did not find the ducks, although we made a diligent search for half an hour. We were about to retrace our steps, when we were arrested by one of the strangest sights that we had yet beheld. Just in front of us, at the distance of about ten yards, grew a superb tree, which certainly was the largest we had yet seen on the island. Its trunk was at least five feet in diameter, with a smooth gray bark; above this the spreading branches were clothed with light green leaves, amid which were clusters of bright yellow fruit, so numerous as to weigh down the boughs with their great weight. This fruit seemed to be of the plum species, of an oblong form, and a good deal larger than the magnum bonum plum. The ground at the foot of this tree was thickly strewn with the fallen fruit, in the midst of which lay sleeping, in every possible attitude, at least twenty hogs of all ages and sizes, apparently quite surfeited with a recent banquet. Jack and I could scarce restrain our laughter as we gazed at these coarse, fat, ill-looking animals, while they lay groaning and snoring heavily amid the remains of their supper. "Now, Ralph," said Jack, in a low whisper, "put a stone in your sling,--a good big one,--and let fly at that fat fellow with his back toward you. I'll try to put an arrow into yon little pig." "Don't you think we had better put them up first?" I whispered; "it seems cruel to kill them while asleep." "If I wanted _sport_, Ralph, I would certainly set them up; but as we only want _pork_, we'll let them lie. Besides, we're not sure of killing them; so, fire away." Thus admonished, I slung my stone with so good aim that it went bang against the hog's flank as if against the head of a drum; but it had no other effect than that of causing the animal to start to its feet, with a frightful yell of surprise, and scamper away. At the same instant Jack's bow twanged, and the arrow pinned the little pig to the ground by the ear. "I've missed, after all," cried Jack, darting forward with uplifted axe, while the little pig uttered a loud squeal, tore the arrow from the ground, and ran away with it, along with the whole drove, into the bushes and disappeared, though we heard them screaming long afterwards in the distance. "That's very provoking, now," said Jack, rubbing the point of his nose. "Very," I replied, stroking my chin. "Well, we must make haste and rejoin Peterkin," said Jack. "It's getting late." And, without further remark, we threaded our way quickly through the woods towards the shore. When we reached it, we found wood laid out, the fire lighted and beginning to kindle up, with other signs of preparation for our encampment, but Peterkin was nowhere to be found. We wondered very much at this; but Jack suggested that he might have gone to fetch water; so he gave a shout to let him know that we had arrived, and sat down upon a rock, while I threw off my jacket and seized the axe, intending to split up one or two billets of wood. But I had scarce moved from the spot when, in the distance, we heard a most appalling shriek, which was followed up by a chorus of yells from the hogs, and a loud "hurrah!" "I do believe," said I, "that Peterkin has met with the hogs." "When Greek meets Greek," said Jack, soliloquizing, "then comes the tug of--" "Hurrah!" shouted Peterkin in the distance. We turned hastily towards the direction whence the sound came, and soon descried Peterkin walking along the beach towards us with a little pig transfixed on the end of his long spear! "Well done, my boy!" exclaimed Jack, slapping him on the shoulder when he came up, "you're the best shot amongst us." "Look here Jack!" cried Peterkin, as he disengaged the animal from his spear. "Do you recognise that hole?" said he, pointing to the pig's ear; "and are you familiar with this arrow, eh?" "Well, I declare!" said Jack. "Of course you do," interrupted Peterkin; "but, pray, restrain your declarations at this time, and let's have supper, for I'm uncommonly hungry, I can tell you; and it's no joke to charge a whole herd of swine with their great-grandmother bristling like a giant porcupine at the head of them!" We now set about preparing supper; and, truly, a good display of viands we made, when all was laid out on a flat rock in the light of the blazing fire. There was, first of all, the little pig; then there was the taro- root, and the yam, and the potato, and six plums; and, lastly, the wood- pigeon. To these Peterkin added a bit of sugar-cane, which he had cut from a little patch of that plant which he had found not long after separating from us; "and," said he, "the patch was somewhat in a square form, which convinces me it must have been planted by man." "Very likely," replied Jack. "From all we have seen, I'm inclined to think that some of the savages must have dwelt here long ago." We found no small difficulty in making up our minds how we were to cook the pig. None of us had ever cut up one before, and we did not know exactly how to begin; besides, we had nothing but the axe to do it with, our knife having been forgotten. At last Jack started up and said,-- "Don't let us waste more time talking about it, boys. Hold it up, Peterkin. There, lay the hind leg on this block of wood, so;" and he cut it off, with a large portion of the haunch, at a single blow of the axe. "Now the other,--that's it." And having thus cut off the two hind legs, he made several deep gashes in them, thrust a sharp-pointed stick through each, and stuck them up before the blaze to roast. The wood-pigeon was then split open, quite flat, washed clean in salt water, and treated in a similar manner. While these were cooking, we scraped a hole in the sand and ashes under the fire, into which we put our vegetables, and covered them up. The taro-root was of an oval shape, about ten inches long and four or five thick. It was of a mottled-gray colour, and had a thick rind. We found it somewhat like an Irish potato, and exceedingly good. The yam was roundish, and had a rough brown skin. It was very sweet and well- flavoured. The potato, we were surprised to find, was quite sweet and exceedingly palatable, as also were the plums; and, indeed, the pork and pigeon too, when we came to taste them. Altogether this was decidedly the most luxurious supper we had enjoyed for many a day; and Jack said it was out-of-sight better than we ever got on board ship; and Peterkin said he feared that if we should remain long on the island he would infallibly become a glutton or an epicure: whereat Jack remarked that he need not fear that, for he was _both_ already! And so, having eaten our fill, not forgetting to finish off with a plum, we laid ourselves comfortably down to sleep upon a couch of branches under the overhanging ledge of a coral rock. CHAPTER XI. Effects of over-eating, and reflections thereon--Humble advice regarding cold water--The "horrible cry" accounted for--The curious birds called penguins--Peculiarity of the cocoa nut palm--Questions on the formation of coral islands--Mysterious footsteps--Strange discoveries and sad sights. When we awoke on the following morning, we found that the sun was already a good way above the horizon, so I came to the conclusion that a heavy supper is not conducive to early rising. Nevertheless, we felt remarkably strong and well, and much disposed to have our breakfast. First, however, we had our customary morning bathe, which refreshed us greatly. I have often wondered very much in after years that the inhabitants of my own dear land did not make more frequent use of this most charming element, water. I mean in the way of cold bathing. Of course, I have perceived that it is not convenient for them to go into the sea or the rivers in winter, as we used to do on the Coral Island; but then, I knew from experience that a large washing-tub and a sponge do form a most pleasant substitute. The feelings of freshness, of cleanliness, of vigour, and extreme hilarity, that always followed my bathes in the sea, and even, when in England, my ablutions in the wash-tub, were so delightful, that I would sooner have gone without my breakfast than without my bathe in cold water. My readers will forgive me for asking whether they are in the habit of bathing thus every morning; and if they answer "No," they will pardon me for recommending them to begin at once. Of late years, since retiring from the stirring life of adventure which I have led so long in foreign climes, I have heard of a system called the cold-water-cure. Now, I do not know much about that system, so I do not mean to uphold it, neither do I intend to run it down. Perhaps, in reference to it, I may just hint that there may be too much of a good thing. I know not; but of this I am quite certain, that there may also be too little of a good thing; and the great delight I have had in cold bathing during the course of my adventurous career inclines me to think that it is better to risk taking too much than to content one's self with too little. Such is my opinion, derived from much experience; but I put it before my readers with the utmost diffidence and with profound modesty, knowing that it may possibly jar with their feelings of confidence in their own ability to know and judge as to what is best and fittest in reference to their own affairs. But, to return from this digression, for which I humbly crave forgiveness. We had not advanced on our journey much above a mile or so, and were just beginning to feel the pleasant glow that usually accompanies vigorous exercise, when, on turning a point that revealed to us a new and beautiful cluster of islands, we were suddenly arrested by the appalling cry which had so alarmed us a few nights before. But this time we were by no means so much alarmed as on the previous occasion, because, whereas at that time it was night, now it was day; and I have always found, though I am unable to account for it, that daylight banishes many of the fears that are apt to assail us in the dark. On hearing the sound, Peterkin instantly threw forward his spear. "Now, what can it be?" said he, looking round at Jack. "I tell you what it is, if we are to go on being pulled up in a constant state of horror and astonishment, as we have been for the last week, the sooner we're out o' this island the better, notwithstanding the yams and lemonade, and pork and plums!" Peterkin's remark was followed by a repetition of the cry, louder than before. "It comes from one of these islands," said Jack. "It must be the ghost of a jackass, then," said Peterkin, "for I never heard anything so like." We all turned our eyes towards the cluster of islands, where, on the largest, we observed curious objects moving on the shore. "Soldiers they are,--that's flat!" cried Peterkin, gazing at them in the utmost amazement. And, in truth, Peterkin's remark seemed to me to be correct; for, at the distance from which we saw them, they appeared to be an army of soldiers. There they stood, rank and file, in lines and in squares, marching and countermarching, with blue coats and white trousers. While we were looking at them, the dreadful cry came again over the water, and Peterkin suggested that it must be a regiment sent out to massacre the natives in cold blood. At this remark Jack laughed and said,-- "Why, Peterkin, they are penguins!" "Penguins?" repeated Peterkin. "Ay, penguins, Peterkin, penguins,--nothing more or less than big sea- birds, as you shall see one of these days, when we pay them a visit in our boat, which I mean to set about building the moment we return to our bower." "So, then, our dreadful yelling ghosts and our murdering army of soldiers," remarked Peterkin, "have dwindled down to penguins,--big sea- birds! Very good. Then I propose that we continue our journey as fast as possible, lest our island should be converted into a dream before we get completely round it." Now, as we continued on our way, I pondered much over this new discovery, and the singular appearance of these birds, of which Jack could only give us a very slight and vague account; and I began to long to commence to our boat, in order that we might go and inspect them more narrowly. But by degrees these thoughts left me, and I began to be much taken up again with the interesting peculiarities of the country which we were passing through. The second night we passed in a manner somewhat similar to the first, at about two-thirds of the way round the island, as we calculated, and we hoped to sleep on the night following at our bower. I will not here note so particularly all that we said and saw during the course of this second day, as we did not make any further discoveries of great importance. The shore along which we travelled, and the various parts of the woods through which we passed, were similar to those which have been already treated of. There were one or two observations that we made, however, and these were as follows:-- We saw that, while many of the large fruit-bearing trees grew only in the valleys, and some of them only near the banks of the streams, where the soil was peculiarly rich, the cocoa-nut palm grew in every place whatsoever,--not only on the hill sides, but also on the sea shore, and even, as has been already stated, on the coral reef itself, where the soil, if we may use the name, was nothing better than loose sand mingled with broken shells and coral rock. So near to the sea, too, did this useful tree grow, that in many places its roots were washed by the spray from the breakers. Yet we found the trees growing thus on the sands to be quite as luxuriant as those growing in the valleys, and the fruit as good and refreshing also. Besides this, I noticed that, on the summit of the high mountain, which we once more ascended at a different point from our first ascent, were found abundance of shells and broken coral formations, which Jack and I agreed proved either that this island must have once been under the sea, or that the sea must once have been above the island. In other words, that as shells and coral could not possibly climb to the mountain top, they must have been washed upon it while the mountain top was on a level with the sea. We pondered this very much; and we put to ourselves the question, "What raised the island to its present height above the sea?" But to this we could by no means give to ourselves a satisfactory reply. Jack thought it might have been blown up by a volcano; and Peterkin said he thought it must have jumped up of its own accord! We also noticed, what had escaped us before, that the solid rocks of which the island was formed were quite different from the live coral rocks on the shore, where the wonderful little insects were continually working. They seemed, indeed, to be of the same material,--a substance like limestone; but, while the coral rocks were quite full of minute cells in which the insects lived, the other rocks inland were hard and solid, without the appearance of cells at all. Our thoughts and conversations on this subject were sometimes so profound that Peterkin said we should certainly get drowned in them at last, even although we were such good divers! Nevertheless we did not allow his pleasantry on this and similar points to deter us from making our notes and observations as we went along. We found several more droves of hogs in the woods, but abstained from killing any of them, having more than sufficient for our present necessities. We saw also many of their foot-prints in this neighbourhood. Among these we also observed the footprints of a smaller animal, which we examined with much care, but could form no certain opinion as to them. Peterkin thought they were those of a little dog, but Jack and I thought differently. We became very curious on this matter, the more so that we observed these foot-prints to lie scattered about in one locality, as if the animal which had made them was wandering round about in a very irregular manner, and without any object in view. Early in the forenoon of our third day we observed these footprints to be much more numerous than ever, and in one particular spot they diverged off into the woods in a regular beaten track, which was, however, so closely beset with bushes, that we pushed through it with difficulty. We had now become so anxious to find out what animal this was, and where it went to, that we determined to follow the track, and, if possible, clear up the mystery. Peterkin said, in a bantering tone, that he was sure it would be cleared up as usual in some frightfully simple way, and prove to be no mystery at all! The beaten track seemed much too large to have been formed by the animal itself, and we concluded that some larger animal had made it, and that the smaller one made use of it. But everywhere the creeping plants and tangled bushes crossed our path, so that we forced our way along with some difficulty. Suddenly, as we came upon an open space, we heard a faint cry, and observed a black animal standing in the track before us. "A wild-cat!" cried Jack, fitting an arrow to his bow, and discharging it so hastily that he missed the animal, and hit the earth about half a foot to one side of it. To our surprise the wild-cat did not fly, but walked slowly towards the arrow, and snuffed at it. "That's the most comical wild-cat I ever saw!" cried Jack. "It's a tame wild-cat, I think," said Peterkin, levelling his spear to make a charge. "Stop!" cried I, laying my hand on his shoulder; "I do believe the poor beast is blind. See, it strikes against the branches as it walks along. It must be a very old one;" and I hastened towards it. "Only think," said Peterkin, with a suppressed laugh, "of a superannuated wild-cat!" We now found that the poor cat was not only blind, or nearly so, but extremely deaf, as it did not hear our footsteps until we were quite close behind it. Then it sprang round, and, putting up its back and tail, while the black hair stood all on end, uttered a hoarse mew and a fuff. "Poor thing," said Peterkin, gently extending his hand, and endeavouring to pat the cat's head. "Poor pussy; chee, chee, chee; puss, puss, puss; cheetie pussy!" No sooner did the cat hear these sounds than all signs of anger fled, and, advancing eagerly to Peterkin, it allowed itself to be stroked, and rubbed itself against his legs, purring loudly all the time, and showing every symptom of the most extreme delight. "It's no more a wild cat than I am!" cried Peterkin, taking it in his arms. "It's quite tame. Poor pussy, cheetie pussy!" We now crowded around Peterkin, and were not a little surprised, and, to say truth, a good deal affected, by the sight of the poor animal's excessive joy. It rubbed its head against Peterkin's cheek, licked his chin, and thrust its head almost violently into his neck, while it purred more loudly than I ever heard a cat purr before, and appeared to be so much overpowered by its feelings, that it occasionally mewed and purred almost in the same breath. Such demonstrations of joy and affection led us at once to conclude that this poor cat must have known man before, and we conjectured that it had been left either accidentally or by design on the island many years ago, and was now evincing its extreme joy at meeting once more with human beings. While we were fondling the cat and talking about it, Jack glanced round the open space in the midst of which we stood. "Hallo!" exclaimed he; "this looks something like a clearing. The axe has been at work here. Just look at these tree-stumps." We now turned to examine these, and, without doubt, we found trees that had been cut down here and there, also stumps and broken branches; all of which, however, were completely covered over with moss, and bore evidence of having been in this condition for some years. No human foot-prints were to be seen, either on the track or among the bushes; but those of the cat were found everywhere. We now determined to follow up the track as far as it went, and Peterkin put the cat down; but it seemed to be so weak, and mewed so very pitifully, that he took it up again and carried it in his arms, where, in a few minutes, it fell sound asleep. About ten yards farther on, the felled trees became more numerous, and the track, diverging to the right, followed for a short space the banks of a stream. Suddenly we came to a spot where once must have been a rude bridge, the stones of which were scattered in the stream, and those on each bank entirely covered over with moss. In silent surprise and expectancy we continued to advance, and, a few yards farther on, beheld, under the shelter of some bread-fruit trees, a small hut or cottage. I cannot hope to convey to my readers a very correct idea of the feelings that affected us on witnessing this unexpected sight. We stood for a long time in silent wonder, for there was a deep and most melancholy stillness about the place that quite overpowered us; and when we did at length speak, it was in subdued whispers, as if we were surrounded by some awful or supernatural influence. Even Peterkin's voice, usually so quick and lively on all occasions, was hushed now; for there was a dreariness about this silent, lonely, uninhabited cottage,--so strange in its appearance, so far away from the usual dwellings of man, so old, decayed, and deserted in its aspect,--that fell upon our spirits like a thick cloud, and blotted out as with a pall the cheerful sunshine that had filled us since the commencement of our tour round the island. The hut or cottage was rude and simple in its construction. It was not more than twelve feet long by ten feet broad, and about seven or eight feet high. It had one window, or rather a small frame in which a window might, perhaps, once have been, but which was now empty. The door was exceedingly low, and formed of rough boards, and the roof was covered with broad cocoa-nut and plantain leaves. But every part of it was in a state of the utmost decay. Moss and green matter grew in spots all over it. The woodwork was quite perforated with holes; the roof had nearly fallen in, and appeared to be prevented from doing so altogether by the thick matting of creeping-plants and the interlaced branches which years of neglect had allowed to cover it almost entirely; while the thick, luxuriant branches of the bread-fruit and other trees spread above it, and flung a deep, sombre shadow over the spot, as if to guard it from the heat and the light of day. We conversed long and in whispers about this strange habitation ere we ventured to approach it; and when at length we did so it was, at least on my part, with feelings of awe. At first Jack endeavoured to peep in at the window, but from the deep shadow of the trees already mentioned, and the gloom within, he could not clearly discern objects; so we lifted the latch and pushed open the door. We observed that the latch was made of iron, and almost eaten away with rust. In the like condition were also the hinges, which creaked as the door swung back. On entering, we stood still and gazed around us, while we were much impressed with the dreary stillness of the room. But what we saw there surprised and shocked us not a little. There was no furniture in the apartment save a little wooden stool and an iron pot, the latter almost eaten through with rust. In the corner farthest from the door was a low bedstead, on which lay two skeletons, imbedded in a little heap of dry dust. With beating hearts we went forward to examine them. One was the skeleton of a man, the other that of a dog, which was extended close beside that of the man, with its head resting on his bosom Now we were very much concerned about this discovery, and could scarce refrain from tears on beholding these sad remains. After some time, we began to talk about what we had seen, and to examine in and around the hut, in order to discover some clue to the name or history of this poor man, who had thus died in solitude, with none to mourn his loss save his cat and his faithful dog. But we found nothing,--neither a book nor a scrap of paper. We found, however, the decayed remnants of what appeared to have been clothing, and an old axe. But none of these things bore marks of any kind; and, indeed, they were so much decayed as to convince us that they had lain in the condition in which we found them for many years. This discovery now accounted to us for the tree stump at the top of the mountain with the initials cut on it; also for the patch of sugar-cane and other traces of man which we had met with in the course of our rambles over the island. And we were much saddened by the reflection that the lot of this poor wanderer might possibly be our own, after many years' residence on the island, unless we should be rescued by the visit of some vessel or the arrival of natives. Having no clue whatever to account for the presence of this poor human being in such a lonely spot, we fell to conjecturing what could have brought him there. I was inclined to think that he must have been a shipwrecked sailor, whose vessel had been lost here, and all the crew been drowned except himself and his dog and cat. But Jack thought it more likely that he had run away from his vessel, and had taken the dog and cat to keep him company. We were also much occupied in our minds with the wonderful difference between the cat and the dog. For here we saw that while the one perished, like a loving friend, by its master's side, with its head resting on his bosom, the other had sought to sustain itself by prowling abroad in the forest, and had lived in solitude to a good old age. However, we did not conclude from this that the cat was destitute of affection, for we could not forget its emotions on first meeting with us; but we saw from this, that the dog had a great deal more of generous love in its nature than the cat, because it not only found it impossible to live after the death of its master, but it must needs, when it came to die, crawl to his side and rest its head upon his lifeless breast. While we were thinking on these things, and examining into everything about the room, we were attracted by an exclamation from Peterkin. "I say, Jack," said he, "here is something that will be of use to us." "What is it?" said Jack, hastening across the room. "An old pistol," replied Peterkin, holding up the weapon, which he had just pulled from under a heap of broken wood and rubbish that lay in a corner. "That, indeed, might have been useful," said Jack, examining it, "if we had any powder; but I suspect the bow and the sling will prove more serviceable." "True, I forgot that," said Peterkin; "but we may as well take it with us, for the flint will serve to strike fire with when the sun does not shine." {A saddening discovery: p136.jpg} After having spent more than an hour at this place without discovering anything of further interest, Peterkin took up the old cat, which had lain very contentedly asleep on the stool whereon he had placed it, and we prepared to take our departure. In leaving the hut, Jack stumbled heavily against the door-post, which was so much decayed as to break across, and the whole fabric of the hut seemed ready to tumble about our ears. This put into our heads that we might as well pull it down, and so form a mound over the skeleton. Jack, therefore, with his axe, cut down the other door-post, which, when it was done, brought the whole hut in ruins to the ground, and thus formed a grave to the bones of the poor recluse and his dog. Then we left the spot, having brought away the iron pot, the pistol, and the old axe, as they might be of much use to us hereafter. During the rest of this day we pursued our journey, and examined the other end of the large valley, which we found to be so much alike to the parts already described, that I shall not recount the particulars of what we saw in this place. I may, however, remark, that we did not quite recover our former cheerful spirits until we arrived at our bower, which we did late in the evening, and found everything just in the same condition as we had left it three days before. CHAPTER XII. Something wrong with the tank--Jack's wisdom and Peterkin's impertinence--Wonderful behaviour of a crab--Good wishes for those who dwell far from the sea--Jack commences to build a little boat. Rest is sweet as well for the body as for the mind. During my long experience, amid the vicissitudes of a chequered life, I have found that periods of profound rest at certain intervals, in addition to the ordinary hours of repose, are necessary to the wellbeing of man. And the nature as well as the period of this rest varies, according to the different temperaments of individuals, and the peculiar circumstances in which they may chance to be placed. To those who work with their minds, bodily labour is rest. To those who labour with the body, deep sleep is rest. To the downcast, the weary, and the sorrowful, joy and peace are rest. Nay, further, I think that to the gay, the frivolous, the reckless, when sated with pleasures that cannot last, even sorrow proves to be rest of a kind, although, perchance, it were better that I should call it relief than rest. There is, indeed, but one class of men to whom rest is denied. There is no rest to the wicked. At this I do but hint, however, as I treat not of that rest which is spiritual, but, more particularly, of that which applies to the mind and to the body. Of this rest we stood much in need on our return home, and we found it exceedingly sweet, when we indulged in it, after completing the journey just related. It had not, indeed, been a very long journey, nevertheless we had pursued it so diligently that our frames were not a little prostrated. Our minds were also very much exhausted in consequence of the many surprises, frequent alarms, and much profound thought, to which they had been subjected; so that when we lay down on the night of our return under the shelter of the bower, we fell immediately into very deep repose. I can state this with much certainty, for Jack afterwards admitted the fact, and Peterkin, although he stoutly denied it, I heard snoring loudly at least two minutes after lying down. In this condition we remained all night and the whole of the following day without awaking once, or so much as moving our positions. When we did awake it was near sunset, and we were all in such a state of lassitude that we merely rose to swallow a mouthful of food. As Peterkin remarked, in the midst of a yawn, we took breakfast at tea-time, and then went to bed again, where we lay till the following forenoon. After this we arose very greatly refreshed, but much alarmed lest we had lost count of a day. I say we were much alarmed on this head, for we had carefully kept count of the days since we were cast upon our island, in order that we might remember the Sabbath-day, which day we had hitherto with one accord kept as a day of rest, and refrained from all work whatsoever. However, on considering the subject, we all three entertained the same opinion as to how long we had slept, and so our minds were put at ease. We now hastened to our Water Garden to enjoy a bathe, and to see how did the animals which I had placed in the tank. We found the garden more charming, pelucid, and inviting than ever, and Jack and I plunged into its depth, and gambolled among its radiant coral groves; while Peterkin wallowed at the surface, and tried occasionally to kick us as we passed below. Having dressed, I then hastened to the tank; but what was my surprise and grief to find nearly all the animals dead, and the water in a putrid condition! I was greatly distressed at this, and wondered what could be the cause of it. "Why, you precious humbug," said Peterkin, coming up to me, "how could you expect it to be otherwise? When fishes are accustomed to live in the Pacific Ocean, how can you expect them to exist in a hole like that?" "Indeed, Peterkin," I replied, "there seems to be truth in what you say. Nevertheless, now I think of it, there must be some error in your reasoning; for, if I put in but a few very small animals, they will bear the same proportion to this pond that the millions of fish bear to the ocean." "I say, Jack," cried Peterkin, waving his hand, "come here, like a good fellow. Ralph is actually talking philosophy. Do come to our assistance, for he's out o' sight beyond me already!" "What's the matter?" inquired Jack, coming up, while he endeavoured to scrub his long hair dry with a towel of cocoa-nut cloth. I repeated my thoughts to Jack, who, I was happy to find, quite agreed with me. "Your best plan," he said, "will be to put very few animals at first into your tank, and add more as you find it will bear them. And look here," he added, pointing to the sides of the tank, which, for the space of two inches above the water-level, were incrusted with salt, "you must carry your philosophy a little farther, Ralph. That water has evaporated so much that it is too salt for anything to live in. You will require to add _fresh_ water now and then, in order to keep it at the same degree of saltness as the sea." "Very true, Jack, that never struck me before," said I. "And, now I think of it," continued Jack, "it seems to me that the surest way of arranging your tank so as to get it to keep pure and in good condition, will be to imitate the ocean in it. In fact make it a miniature Pacific. I don't see how you can hope to succeed unless you do that." "Most true," said I, pondering what my companion said. "But I fear that that will be very difficult." "Not at all," cried Jack, rolling his towel up into a ball, and throwing it into the face of Peterkin, who had been grinning and winking at him during the last five minutes. "Not at all. Look here. There is water of a certain saltness in the sea; well, fill your tank with sea water, and keep it at that saltness by marking the height at which the water stands on the sides. When it evaporates a little, pour in _fresh_ water from the brook till it comes up to the mark, and then it will be right, for the salt does not evaporate with the water. Then, there's lots of sea-weed in the sea;--well, go and get one or two bits of sea-weed, and put them into your tank. Of course the weed must be alive, and growing to little stones; or you can chip a bit off the rocks with the weed sticking to it. Then, if you like, you can throw a little sand and gravel into your tank, and the thing's complete." "Nay, not quite," said Peterkin, who had been gravely attentive to this off-hand advice, "not quite; you must first make three little men to dive in it before it can be said to be perfect, and that would be rather difficult, I fear, for two of them would require to be philosophers. But hallo! what's this? I say, Ralph, look here. There's one o' your crabs up to something uncommon. It's performing the most remarkable operation for a crab I ever saw,--taking off its coat, I do believe, before going to bed!" We hastily stooped over the tank, and certainly were not a little amused at the conduct of one of the crabs which still survived it companions. It was one of the common small crabs, like to those that are found running about everywhere on the coasts of England. While we gazed at it, we observed its back to split away from the lower part of its body, and out of the gap thus formed came a soft lump which moved and writhed unceasingly. This lump continued to increase in size until it appeared like a bunch of crab's legs: and, indeed, such it proved in a very few minutes to be; for the points of the toes were at length extricated from this hole in its back, the legs spread out, the body followed, and the crab walked away quite entire, even to the points of its nipper-claws, leaving a perfectly entire shell behind it, so that, when we looked, it seemed as though there were two complete crabs instead of one! "Well!" exclaimed Peterkin, drawing a long breath, "I've _heard_ of a man jumping out of his skin and sitting down in his skeleton in order to cool himself, but I never expected to _see_ a crab do it!" We were, in truth, much amazed at this spectacle, and the more so when we observed that the new crab was larger than the crab that it came out of. It was also quite soft, but by next morning its skin had hardened into a good shell. We came thus to know that crabs grow in this way, and not by the growing of their shells, as we had always thought before we saw this wonderful operation. Now I considered well the advice which Jack had given me about preparing my tank, and the more I thought of it, the more I came to regard it as very sound and worthy of being acted on. So I forthwith put his plan in execution, and found it to answer excellently well, indeed much beyond my expectation; for I found that after a little experience had taught me the proper proportion of sea-weed and animals to put into a certain amount of water, the tank needed no farther attendance; and, moreover, I did not require ever afterwards to renew or change the sea-water, but only to add a very little fresh water from the brook, now and then, as the other evaporated. I therefore concluded that if I had been suddenly conveyed, along with my tank, into some region where there was no salt sea at all, my little sea and my sea-fish would have continued to thrive and to prosper notwithstanding. This made me greatly to desire that those people in the world who live far inland might know of my wonderful tank, and, by having materials like to those of which it was made conveyed to them, thus be enabled to watch the habits of those most mysterious animals that reside in the sea, and examine with their own eyes the wonders of the great deep. For many days after this, while Peterkin and Jack were busily employed in building a little boat out of the curious natural planks of the chestnut tree, I spent much of my time in examining with the burning-glass the marvellous operations that were constantly going on in my tank. Here I saw those anemones which cling, like little red, yellow, and green blobs of jelly, to the rocks, put forth, as it were, a multitude of arms and wait till little fish or other small animalcules unwarily touched them, when they would instantly seize them, fold arm after arm around their victims, and so engulf them in their stomachs. Here I saw the ceaseless working of those little coral insects whose efforts have encrusted the islands of the Pacific with vast rocks, and surrounded them with enormous reefs. And I observed that many of these insects, though extremely minute, were very beautiful, coming out of their holes in a circle of fine threads, and having the form of a shuttle-cock. Here I saw curious little barnacles opening a hole in their backs and constantly putting out a thin feathery hand, with which, I doubt not, they dragged their food into their mouths. Here, also, I saw those crabs which have shells only on the front of their bodies, but no shell whatever on their remarkably tender tails, so that, in order to find a protection to them, they thrust them into the empty shells of wilks, or some such fish, and when they grow too big for one, change into another. But, most curious of all, I saw an animal which had the wonderful power, when it became ill, of casting its stomach and its teeth away from it, and getting an entirely new set in the course of a few months! All this I saw, and a great deal more, by means of my tank and my burning-glass, but I refrain from setting down more particulars here, as I have still much to tell of the adventures that befell us while we remained on this island. CHAPTER XIII. Notable discovery at the spouting cliffs--The mysterious green monster explained--We are thrown into unutterable terror by the idea that Jack is drowned--The Diamond Cave. "Come, Jack," cried Peterkin, one morning about three weeks after our return from our long excursion, "let's be jolly to-day, and do something vigorous. I'm quite tired of hammering and hammering, hewing and screwing, cutting and butting, at that little boat of ours, that seems as hard to build as Noah's ark; let us go on an excursion to the mountain top, or have a hunt after the wild ducks, or make a dash at the pigs. I'm quite flat--flat as bad ginger-beer--flat as a pancake; in fact, I want something to rouse me, to toss me up, as it were. Eh! what do you say to it?" "Well," answered Jack, throwing down the axe with which he was just about to proceed towards the boat, "if that's what you want, I would recommend you to make an excursion to the water-spouts; the last one we had to do with tossed you up a considerable height, perhaps the next will send you higher, who knows, if you're at all reasonable or moderate in your expectations!" "Jack, my dear boy," said Peterkin, gravely, "you are really becoming too fond of jesting. It's a thing I don't at all approve of, and if you don't give it up, I fear that, for our mutual good, we shall have to part." "Well, then, Peterkin," replied Jack, with a smile, "what would you have?" "Have?" said Peterkin, "I would _have_ nothing. I didn't say I wanted to _have_; I said that I wanted to _do_." "By the by," said I, interrupting their conversation, "I am reminded by this that we have not yet discovered the nature of yon curious appearance that we saw near the water-spouts, on our journey round the island. Perhaps it would be well to go for that purpose." "Humph!" ejaculated Peterkin, "I know the nature of it well enough." "What was it?" said I. "It was of a _mysterious_ nature to be sure!" said he, with a wave of his hand, while he rose from the log on which he had been sitting, and buckled on his belt, into which he thrust his enormous club. "Well then, let us away to the water-spouts," cried Jack, going up to the bower for his bow and arrows; "and bring your spear, Peterkin. It may be useful." We now, having made up our minds to examine into this matter, sallied forth eagerly in the direction of the water-spout rocks, which, as I have before mentioned, were not far from our present place of abode. On arriving there we hastened down to the edge of the rocks, and gazed over into the sea, where we observed the pale-green object still distinctly visible, moving its tail slowly to and fro in the water. "Most remarkable!" said Jack. "Exceedingly curious," said I. "Beats everything!" said Peterkin. "Now, Jack," he added, "you made such a poor figure in your last attempt to stick that object, that I would advise you to let me try it. If it has got a heart at all, I'll engage to send my spear right through the core of it; if it hasn't got a heart, I'll send it through the spot where its heart ought to be." "Fire away, then, my boy," replied Jack with a laugh. Peterkin immediately took the spear, poised it for a second or two above his head, then darted it like an arrow into the sea. Down it went straight into the centre of the green object, passed quite through it, and came up immediately afterwards, pure and unsullied, while the mysterious tail moved quietly as before! "Now," said Peterkin, gravely, "that brute is a heartless monster; I'll have nothing more to do with it." "I'm pretty sure now," said Jack, "that it is merely a phosphoric light; but I must say I'm puzzled at its staying always in that exact spot." I also was much puzzled, and inclined to think with Jack that it must be phosphoric light; of which luminous appearance we had seen much while on our voyage to these seas. "But," said I, "there is nothing to hinder us from diving down to it, now that we are sure it is not a shark." "True," returned Jack, stripping off his clothes; "I'll go down, Ralph, as I'm better at diving than you are. Now then, Peterkin, out o' the road!" Jack stepped forward, joined his hands above his head, bent over the rocks, and plunged into the sea. For a second or two the spray caused by his dive hid him from view, then the water became still, and we saw him swimming far down in the midst of the green object. Suddenly he sank below it, and vanished altogether from our sight! We gazed anxiously down at the spot where he had disappeared, for nearly a minute, expecting every moment to see him rise again for breath; but fully a minute passed, and still he did not reappear. Two minutes passed! and then a flood of alarm rushed in upon my soul, when I considered that during all my acquaintance with him, Jack had never stayed underwater more than a minute at a time; indeed seldom so long. "Oh, Peterkin!" I said, in a voice that trembled with increasing anxiety, "something has happened. It is more than three minutes now!" But Peterkin did not answer and I observed that he was gazing down into the water with a look of intense fear mingled with anxiety, while his face was overspread with a deadly paleness. Suddenly he sprang to his feet and rushed about in a frantic state, wringing his hands, and exclaiming, "Oh, Jack, Jack! he is gone! It must have been a shark, and he is gone for ever!" For the next five minutes I know not what I did. The intensity of my feelings almost bereft me of my senses. But I was recalled to myself by Peterkin seizing me by the shoulder and staring wildly into my face, while he exclaimed, "Ralph! Ralph! perhaps he has only fainted. Dive for him, Ralph!" It seemed strange that this did not occur to me sooner. In a moment I rushed to the edge of the rocks, and, without waiting to throw off my garments, was on the point to spring into the waves, when I observed something black rising up through the green object. In another moment Jack's head rose to the surface, and he gave a wild shout, flinging back the spray from his locks, as was his wont after a dive. Now we were almost as much amazed at seeing him reappear, well and strong, as we had been at first at his non-appearance; for, to the best of our judgment, he had been nearly ten minutes under water, perhaps longer, and it required no exertion of our reason to convince us that this was utterly impossible for mortal man to do and retain his strength and faculties. It was therefore with a feeling akin to superstitious awe that I held down my hand and assisted him to clamber up the steep rocks. But no such feeling affected Peterkin. No sooner did Jack gain the rocks and seat himself on one, panting for breath, than he threw his arms round his neck, and burst into a flood of tears. "Oh, Jack, Jack!" said he, "where were you? What kept you so long?" After a few moments Peterkin became composed enough to sit still and listen to Jack's explanation, although he could not restrain himself from attempting to wink every two minutes at me, in order to express his joy at Jack's safety. I say he attempted to wink, but I am bound to add that he did not succeed, for his eyes were so much swollen with weeping, that his frequent attempts only resulted in a series of violent and altogether idiotical contortions of the face, that were very far from expressing what he intended. However, I knew what the poor fellow meant by it, so I smiled to him in return, and endeavoured to make believe that he was winking. "Now, lads," said Jack, when we were composed enough to listen to him, "yon green object is not a shark; it is a stream of light issuing from a cave in the rocks. Just after I made my dive, I observed that this light came from the side of the rock above which we are now sitting; so I struck out for it, and saw an opening into some place or other that appeared to be luminous within. For one instant I paused to think whether I ought to venture. Then I made up my mind, and dashed into it. For you see, Peterkin, although I take some time to tell this, it happened in the space of a few seconds, so that I knew I had wind enough in me to serve to bring me out o' the hole and up to the surface again. Well, I was just on the point of turning,--for I began to feel a little uncomfortable in such a place,--when it seemed to me as if there was a faint light right above me. I darted upwards, and found my head out of water. This relieved me greatly, for I now felt that I could take in air enough to enable me to return the way I came. Then it all at once occurred to me that I might not be able to find the way out again; but, on glancing downwards, my mind was put quite at rest by seeing the green light below me streaming into the cave, just like the light that we had seen streaming out of it, only what I now saw was much brighter. "At first I could scarcely see anything as I gazed around me, it was so dark; but gradually my eyes became accustomed to it, and I found that I was in a huge cave, part of the walls of which I observed on each side of me. The ceiling just above me was also visible, and I fancied that I could perceive beautiful glittering objects there, but the farther end of the cave was shrouded in darkness. While I was looking around me in great wonder, it came into my head that you two would think I was drowned; so I plunged down through the passage again in a great hurry, rose to the surface, and--here I am!" When Jack concluded his recital of what he had seen in this remarkable cave, I could not rest satisfied till I had dived down to see it; which I did, but found it so dark, as Jack had said, that I could scarcely see anything. When I returned, we had a long conversation about it, during which I observed that Peterkin had a most lugubrious expression on his countenance. "What's the matter, Peterkin?" said I. "The matter?" he replied. "It's all very well for you two to be talking away like mermaids about the wonders of this cave, but you know I must be content to hear about it, while you are enjoying yourselves down there like mad dolphins. It's really too bad." "I'm very sorry for you, Peterkin, indeed I am," said Jack, "but we cannot help you. If you would only learn to dive--" "Learn to fly, you might as well say!" retorted Peterkin, in a very sulky tone. "If you would only consent to keep still," said I, "we would take you down with us in ten seconds." "Hum!" returned Peterkin; "suppose a salamander was to propose to you 'only to keep still,' and he would carry you through a blazing fire in a few seconds, what would you say?" We both laughed and shook our heads, for it was evident that nothing was to be made of Peterkin in the water. But we could not rest satisfied till we had seen more of this cave; so, after further consultation, Jack and I determined to try if we could take down a torch with us, and set fire to it in the cavern. This we found to be an undertaking of no small difficulty; but we accomplished it at last by the following means:--First, we made a torch of a very inflammable nature out of the bark of a certain tree, which we cut into strips, and, after twisting, cemented together with a kind of resin or gum, which we also obtained from another tree; neither of which trees, however, was known by name to Jack. This, when prepared, we wrapped up in a great number of plies of cocoa-nut cloth, so that we were confident it could not get wet during the short time it should be under water. Then we took a small piece of the tinder, which we had carefully treasured up lest we should require it, as before said, when the sun should fail us; also, we rolled up some dry grass and a few chips, which, with a little bow and drill, like those described before, we made into another bundle, and wrapped it up in cocoa-nut cloth. When all was ready we laid aside our garments, with the exception of our trousers, which, as we did not know what rough scraping against the rocks we might be subjected to, we kept on. Then we advanced to the edge of the rocks, Jack carrying one bundle, with the torch; I the other, with the things for producing fire. "Now don't weary for us, Peterkin, should we be gone some time," said Jack; "we'll be sure to return in half-an-hour at the very latest, however interesting the cave should be, that we may relieve your mind." "Farewell!" said Peterkin, coming up to us with a look of deep but pretended solemnity, while he shook hands and kissed each of us on the cheek. "Farewell! and while you are gone I shall repose my weary limbs under the shelter of this bush, and meditate on the changefulness of all things earthly, with special reference to the forsaken condition of a poor ship-wrecked sailor boy!" So saying, Peterkin waved his hand, turned from us, and cast himself upon the ground with a look of melancholy resignation, which was so well feigned, that I would have thought it genuine had he not accompanied it with a gentle wink. We both laughed, and, springing from the rocks together, plunged head first into the sea. We gained the interior of the submarine cave without difficulty, and, on emerging from the waves, supported ourselves for some time by treading- water, while we held the two bundles above our heads. This we did in order to let our eyes become accustomed to the obscurity. Then, when we could see sufficiently, we swam to a shelving rock, and landed in safety. Having wrung the water from our trousers, and dried ourselves as well as we could under the circumstances, we proceeded to ignite the torch. This we accomplished without difficulty in a few minutes; and no sooner did it flare up than we were struck dumb with the wonderful objects that were revealed to our gaze. The roof of the cavern just above us seemed to be about ten feet high, but grew higher as it receded into the distance, until it was lost in darkness. It seemed to be made of coral, and was supported by massive columns of the same material. Immense icicles (as they appeared to us) hung from it in various places. These, however, were formed, not of ice, but of a species of limestone, which seemed to flow in a liquid form towards the point of each, where it became solid. A good many drops fell, however, to the rock below, and these formed little cones, which rose to meet the points above. Some of them had already met, and thus we saw how the pillars were formed, which at first seemed to us as if they had been placed there by some human architect to support the roof. As we advanced farther in, we saw that the floor was composed of the same material as the pillars; and it presented the curious appearance of ripples, such as are formed on water when gently ruffled by the wind. There were several openings on either hand in the walls, that seemed to lead into other caverns; but these we did not explore at this time. We also observed that the ceiling was curiously marked in many places, as if it were the fret-work of a noble cathedral; and the walls, as well as the roof, sparkled in the light of our torch, and threw back gleams and flashes, as if they were covered with precious stones. Although we proceeded far into this cavern, we did not come to the end of it; and we were obliged to return more speedily than we would otherwise have done, as our torch was nearly expended. We did not observe any openings in the roof, or any indications of places whereby light might enter; but near the entrance to the cavern stood an immense mass of pure white coral rock, which caught and threw back the little light that found an entrance through the cave's mouth, and thus produced, we conjectured, the pale-green object which had first attracted our attention. We concluded, also, that the reflecting power of this rock was that which gave forth the dim light that faintly illumined the first part of the cave. Before diving through the passage again we extinguished the small piece of our torch that remained, and left it in a dry spot; conceiving that we might possibly stand in need of it, if at any future time we should chance to wet our torch while diving into the cavern. As we stood for a few minutes after it was out, waiting till our eyes became accustomed to the gloom, we could not help remarking the deep, intense stillness and the unutterable gloom of all around us; and, as I thought of the stupendous dome above, and the countless gems that had sparkled in the torch-light a few minutes before, it came into my mind to consider how strange it is that God should make such wonderful and exquisitely beautiful works never to be seen at all, except, indeed, by chance visitors such as ourselves. I afterwards found that there were many such caverns among the islands of the South Seas, some of them larger and more beautiful than the one I have just described. "Now, Ralph, are you ready?" said Jack, in a low voice, that seemed to echo up into the dome above. "Quite ready." "Come along, then," said he; and, plunging off the ledge of the rock into the water, we dived through the narrow entrance. In a few seconds we were panting on the rocks above, and receiving the congratulations of our friend Peterkin. CHAPTER XIV. Strange peculiarity of the tides--Also of the twilight--Peterkin's remarkable conduct in embracing a little pig and killing a big sow--Sage remarks on jesting--Also on love. It was quite a relief to us to breathe the pure air and to enjoy the glad sunshine after our long ramble in the Diamond Cave, as we named it; for, although we did not stay more than half an hour away, it seemed to us much longer. While we were dressing, and during our walk home, we did our best to satisfy the curiosity of poor Peterkin, who seemed to regret, with lively sincerity, his inability to dive. There was no help for it, however, so we condoled with him as we best could. Had there been any great rise or fall in the tide of these seas, we might perhaps have found it possible to take him down with us at low water; but as the tide never rose or fell more than eighteen inches or two feet, this was impossible. This peculiarity of the tide--its slight rise and fall--had not attracted our observation till some time after our residence on the island. Neither had we observed another curious circumstance until we had been some time there. This was the fact, that the tide rose and fell with constant regularity, instead of being affected by the changes of the moon as in our own country, and as it is in most other parts of the world,--at least in all those parts with which I am acquainted. Every day and every night, at twelve o'clock precisely, the tide is at the full; and at six o'clock every morning and evening it is ebb. I can speak with much confidence on this singular circumstance, as we took particular note of it, and never found it to alter. Of course, I must admit, we had to guess the hour of twelve midnight, and I think we could do this pretty correctly; but in regard to twelve noon we are quite positive, because we easily found the highest point that the sun reached in the sky by placing ourselves at a certain spot whence we observed the sharp summit of a cliff resting against the sky, just where the sun passed. Jack and I were surprised that we had not noticed this the first few days of our residence here, and could only account for it by our being so much taken up with the more obvious wonders of our novel situation. I have since learned, however, that this want of observation is a sad and very common infirmity of human nature, there being hundreds of persons before whose eyes the most wonderful things are passing every day, who nevertheless are totally ignorant of them. I therefore have to record my sympathy with such persons, and to recommend to them a course of conduct which I have now for a long time myself adopted,--namely, the habit of forcing my attention upon _all_ things that go on around me, and of taking some degree of interest in them, whether I feel it naturally or not. I suggest this the more earnestly, though humbly, because I have very frequently come to know that my indifference to a thing has generally been caused by my ignorance in regard to it. We had much serious conversation on this subject of the tides; and Jack told us, in his own quiet, philosophical way, that these tides did great good to the world in many ways, particularly in the way of cleansing the shores of the land, and carrying off the filth that was constantly poured into the sea there-from; which, Peterkin suggested, was remarkably _tidy_ of it to do. Poor Peterkin could never let slip an opportunity to joke, however inopportune it might be: which at first we found rather a disagreeable propensity, as it often interrupted the flow of very agreeable conversation; and, indeed, I cannot too strongly record my disapprobation of this tendency in general: but we became so used to it at last that we found it no interruption whatever; indeed, strange to say, we came to feel that it was a necessary part of our enjoyment (such is the force of habit), and found the sudden outbursts of mirth, resulting from his humorous disposition, quite natural and refreshing to us in the midst of our more serious conversations. But I must not misrepresent Peterkin. We often found, to our surprise, that he knew many things which we did not; and I also observed that those things which he learned from experience were never forgotten. From all these things I came at length to understand that things very opposite and dissimilar in themselves, when united, do make an agreeable whole; as, for example, we three on this our island, although most unlike in many things, when united, made a trio so harmonious that I question if there ever met before such an agreeable triumvirate. There was, indeed, no note of discord whatever in the symphony we played together on that sweet Coral Island; and I am now persuaded that this was owing to our having been all tuned to the same key, namely, that of _love_! Yes, we loved one another with much fervency while we lived on that island; and, for the matter of that, we love each other still. And while I am on this subject, or rather the subject that just preceded it--namely, the tides--I may here remark on another curious natural phenomenon. We found that there was little or no twilight in this island. We had a distinct remembrance of the charming long twilight at home, which some people think the most delightful part of the day, though for my part I have always preferred sunrise; and when we first landed, we used to sit down on some rocky point or eminence, at the close of our day's work, to enjoy the evening breeze; but no sooner had the sun sunk below the horizon than all became suddenly dark. This rendered it necessary that we should watch the sun when we happened to be out hunting, for to be suddenly left in the dark while in the woods was very perplexing, as, although the stars shone with great beauty and brilliancy, they could not pierce through the thick umbrageous boughs that interlaced above our heads. But, to return: After having told all we could to Peterkin about the Diamond Cave under Spouting Cliff, as we named the locality, we were wending our way rapidly homewards, when a grunt and a squeal were borne down by the land breeze to our ears. "That's the ticket!" was Peterkin's remarkable exclamation, as he started convulsively, and levelled his spear. "Hist!" cried Jack; "these are your friends, Peterkin. They must have come over expressly to pay you a friendly visit, for it is the first time we have seen them on this side the island." "Come along!" cried Peterkin, hurrying towards the wood, while Jack and I followed, smiling at his impatience. Another grunt and half a dozen squeals, much louder than before, came down the valley. At this time we were just opposite the small vale which lay between the Valley of the Wreck and Spouting Cliff. "I say, Peterkin," cried Jack, in a hoarse whisper. "Well, what is't?" "Stay a bit, man. These grunters are just up there on the hill side. If you go and stand with Ralph in the lee of yon cliff, I'll cut round behind and drive them through the gorge, so that you'll have a better chance of picking out a good one. Now, mind you pitch into a fat young pig, Peterkin," added Jack, as he sprang into the bushes. "Won't I, just!" said Peterkin, licking his lips, as we took our station beside the cliff. "I feel quite a tender affection for young pigs in my heart. Perhaps it would be more correct to say in my s--." "There they come!" cried I, as a terrific yell from Jack sent the whole herd screaming down the hill. Now, Peterkin, being unable to hold back, crept a short way up a very steep grassy mound, in order to get a better view of the hogs before they came up; and just as he raised his head above its summit, two little pigs, which had outrun their companions, rushed over the top with the utmost precipitation. One of these brushed close past Peterkin's ear; the other, unable to arrest its headlong flight, went, as Peterkin himself afterwards expressed it, "bash" into his arms with a sudden squeal, which was caused more by the force of the blow than the will of the animal, and both of them rolled violently down to the foot of the mound. No sooner was this reached than the little pig recovered its feet, tossed up its tail, and fled shrieking from the spot. But I slang a large stone after it, which, being fortunately well aimed, hit it behind the ear, and felled it to the earth. "Capital, Ralph! that's your sort!" cried Peterkin, who, to my surprise and great relief, had risen to his feet. Apparently unhurt, though much dishevelled, he rushed franticly towards the gorge, which the yells of the hogs told us they were now approaching. I had made up my mind that I would abstain from killing another, as, if Peterkin should be successful, two were more than sufficient for our wants at the present time. Suddenly they all burst forth,--two or three little round ones in advance, and an enormous old sow with a drove of hogs at her heels. "Now, Peterkin," said I, "there's a nice little fat one; just spear it." But Peterkin did not move; he allowed it to pass unharmed. I looked at him in surprise, and saw that his lips were compressed and his eyebrows knitted, as if he were about to fight with some awful enemy. "What is it?" I inquired, with some trepidation. Suddenly he levelled his spear, darted forward, and, with a yell that nearly froze the blood in my veins, stabbed the old sow to the heart. Nay, so vigorously was it done that the spear went in at one side and came out at the other! "Oh, Peterkin!" said I, going up to him, "what have you done?" "Done? I've killed their great-great-grandmother, that's all," said he, looking with a somewhat awe-struck expression at the transfixed animal. "Hallo! what's this?" said Jack, as he came up. "Why, Peterkin, you must be fond of a tough chop. If you mean to eat this old hog, she'll try your jaws, I warrant. What possessed you to stick _her_, Peterkin?" "Why, the fact is I want a pair of shoes." "What have your shoes to do with the old hog?' said I, smiling. "My present shoes have certainly nothing to do with her," replied Peterkin; "nevertheless she will have a good deal to do with my future shoes. The fact is, when I saw you floor that pig so neatly, Ralph, it struck me that there was little use in killing another. Then I remembered all at once that I had long wanted some leather or tough substance to make shoes of, and this old grandmother seemed so tough that I just made up my mind to stick her, and you see I've done it!" "That you certainly have, Peterkin," said Jack, as he was examining the transfixed animal. We now considered how we were to carry our game home, for, although the distance was short, the hog was very heavy. At length we hit on the plan of tying its four feet together, and passing the spear handle between them. Jack took one end on his shoulder, I took the other on mine, and Peterkin carried the small pig. Thus we returned in triumph to our bower, laden, as Peterkin remarked, with the glorious spoils of a noble hunt. As he afterwards spoke in similarly glowing terms in reference to the supper that followed, there is every reason to believe that we retired that night to our leafy beds in a high state of satisfaction. CHAPTER XV. Boat-building extraordinary--Peterkin tries his hand at cookery and fails most signally--The boat finished--Curious conversation with the cat, and other matters. For many days after this Jack applied himself with unremitting assiduity to the construction of our boat, which at length began to look somewhat like one. But those only who have had the thing to do can entertain a right idea of the difficulty involved in such an undertaking, with no other implements than an axe, a bit of hoop-iron, a sail-needle, and a broken pen-knife. But Jack did it. He was of, that disposition which _will_ not be conquered. When he believed himself to be acting rightly, he overcame all obstacles. I have seen Jack, when doubtful whether what he was about to do were right or wrong, as timid and vacillating as a little girl,--and I honour him for it! As this boat was a curiosity in its way, a few words here relative to the manner of its construction may not be amiss. I have already mentioned the chestnut tree with its wonderful buttresses or planks. This tree, then, furnished us with the chief part of our material. First of all Jack sought out a limb of a tree of such a form and size as, while it should form the keel a bend at either end should form the stem and stern posts. Such a piece, however, was not easy to obtain, but at last he procured it, by rooting up a small tree which had a branch growing at the proper angle about ten feet up its stem, with two strong roots growing in such a form as enabled him to make a flat-sterned boat. This placed, he procured three branching roots of suitable size, which he fitted to the keel at equal distances, thus forming three strong ribs. Now, the squaring and shaping of these, and the cutting of the grooves in the keel, was an easy enough matter, as it was all work for the axe, in the use of which Jack was become wonderfully expert; but it was quite a different affair when he came to nailing the ribs to the keel, for we had no instrument capable of boring a large hole, and no nails to fasten them with. We were, indeed, much perplexed here; but Jack at length devised an instrument that served very well. He took the remainder of our hoop-iron and beat it into the form of a pipe or cylinder, about as thick as a man's finger. This he did by means of our axe and the old rusty axe we had found at the house of the poor man at the other side of the island. This, when made red hot, bored slowly though the timbers; and, the better to retain the heat, Jack shut up one end of it and filled it with sand. True, the work was very slowly done, but it mattered not--we had little else to do. Two holes were bored in each timber, about an inch and a half apart, and also down into the keel, but not quite through. Into these were placed stout pegs made of a tree called iron-wood; and, when they were hammered well home, the timbers were as firmly fixed as if they had been nailed with iron. The gunwales, which were very stout, were fixed in a similar manner. But, besides the wooden nails, they were firmly lashed to the stem and stern posts and ribs by means of a species of cordage which we had contrived to make out of the fibrous husk of the cocoa nut. This husk was very tough, and when a number of the threads were joined together they formed excellent cordage. At first we tied the different lengths together, but this was such a clumsy and awkward complication of knots, that we contrived, by careful interlacing of the ends together before twisting, to make good cordage of any size or length we chose. Of course it cost us much time and infinite labour, but Jack kept up our spirits when we grew weary, and so all that we required was at last constructed. Planks were now cut off the chestnut trees of about an inch thick. These were dressed with the axe,--but clumsily, for an axe is ill adapted for such work. Five of these planks on each side were sufficient, and we formed the boat in a very rounded, barrel-like shape, in order to have as little twisting of the planks as possible; for, although we could easily bend them, we could not easily twist them. Having no nails to rivet the planks with, we threw aside the ordinary fashion of boat building and adopted one of our own. The planks were therefore placed on each other's edges, and sewed together with the tough cordage already mentioned. They were also thus sewed to the stem, the stern, and the keel. Each stitch or tie was six inches apart, and was formed thus: Three holes were bored in the upper plank and three in the lower,--the holes being above each other, that is, in a vertical line. Through these holes the cord was passed, and, when tied, formed a powerful stitch of three ply. Besides this, we placed between the edges of the planks, layers of cocoa-nut fibre, which, as it swelled when wetted, would, we hoped, make our little vessel water-tight. But in order further to secure this end, we collected a large quantity of pitch from the bread-fruit tree, with which, when boiled in our old iron pot, we payed the whole of the inside of the boat, and, while it was yet hot, placed large pieces of cocoa-nut cloth on it, and then gave it another coat above that. Thus the interior was covered with a tough water-tight material; while the exterior, being uncovered, and so exposed to the swelling action of the water, was we hoped, likely to keep the boat quite dry. I may add that our hopes were not disappointed. While Jack was thus engaged, Peterkin and I sometimes assisted him, but, as our assistance was not much required, we more frequently went a-hunting on the extensive mud-flats at the entrance of the long valley which lay nearest to our bower. Here we found large flocks of ducks of various kinds, some of them bearing so much resemblance to the wild ducks of our own country that I think they must have been the same. On these occasions we took the bow and the sling, with both of which we were often successful, though I must confess I was the least so. Our suppers were thus pleasantly varied, and sometimes we had such a profusion spread out before us that we frequently knew not with which of the dainties to begin. I must also add, that the poor old cat which we had brought home had always a liberal share of our good things, and so well was it looked after, especially by Peterkin, that it recovered much of its former strength, and seemed to improve in sight as well as hearing. {Leaving for the "mud-flats": p175.jpg} The large flat stone, or rock of coral, which stood just in front of the entrance to our bower, was our table. On this rock we had spread out the few articles we possessed the day we were shipwrecked; and on the same rock, during many a day afterwards, we spread out the bountiful supply with which we had been blessed on our Coral Island. Sometimes we sat down at this table to a feast consisting of hot rolls,--as Peterkin called the newly baked bread fruit,--a roast pig, roast duck, boiled and roasted yams, cocoa nuts, taro, and sweet potatoes; which we followed up with a dessert of plums, apples, and plantains,--the last being a large- sized and delightful fruit, which grew on a large shrub or tree not more than twelve feet high, with light-green leaves of enormous length and breadth. These luxurious feasts were usually washed down with cocoa-nut lemonade. Occasionally Peterkin tried to devise some new dish,--"a conglomerate," as he used to say; but these generally turned out such atrocious compounds that he was ultimately induced to give up his attempts in extreme disgust. Not forgetting, however, to point out to Jack that his failure was a direct contradiction to the proverb which he, Jack, was constantly thrusting down his throat, namely, that "where there's a will there's a way." For he had a great will to become a cook, but could by no means find a way to accomplish that end. One day, while Peterkin and I were seated beside our table on which dinner was spread, Jack came up from the beach, and, flinging down his axe, exclaimed,-- "There, lads, the boat's finished at last! so we've nothing to do now but shape two pair of oars, and then we may put to sea as soon as we like." This piece of news threw us into a state of great joy; for although we were aware that the boat had been gradually getting near its completion, it had taken so long that we did not expect it to be quite ready for at least two or three weeks. But Jack had wrought hard and said nothing, in order to surprise us. "My dear fellow," cried Peterkin, "you're a perfect trump. But why did you not tell us it was so nearly ready? won't we have a jolly sail to- morrow? eh?" "Don't talk so much, Peterkin," said Jack; "and, pray, hand me a bit of that pig." "Certainly, my dear," cried Peterkin, seizing the axe; "what part will you have? a leg, or a wing, or a piece of the breast; which?" "A hind leg, if you please," answered Jack; "and, pray, be so good as to include the tail." "With all my heart," said Peterkin, exchanging the axe for his hoop-iron knife, with which he cut off the desired portion. "I'm only too glad, my dear boy, to see that your appetite is so wholesale; and there's no chance whatever of its dwindling down into re-tail again, at least in so far as this pig is concerned. Ralph, lad, why don't you laugh?--eh?" he added turning suddenly to me with a severe look of inquiry. "Laugh?" said I; "what at, Peterkin? why should I laugh?" Both Jack and Peterkin answered this inquiry by themselves laughing so immoderately that I was induced to believe I had missed noticing some good joke, so I begged that it might be explained to me; but as this only produced repeated roars of laughter, I smiled and helped myself to another slice of plantain. "Well, but," continued Peterkin, "I was talking of a sail to-morrow. Can't we have one, Jack?" "No," replied Jack, "we can't have a sail, but I hope we shall have a row, as I intend to work hard at the oars this afternoon, and, if we can't get them finished by sunset we'll light our candle-nuts, and turn them out of hands before we turn into bed." "Very good," said Peterkin, tossing a lump of pork to the cat, who received it with a mew of satisfaction. "I'll help you, if I can." "Afterwards," continued Jack, "we will make a sail out of the cocoa-nut cloth, and rig up a mast, and then we shall be able to sail to some of the other islands, and visit our old friends the penguins." The prospect of being so soon in a position to extend our observations to the other islands, and enjoy a sail over the beautiful sea, afforded us much delight, and, after dinner, we set about making the oars in good earnest. Jack went into the woods and blocked them roughly out with the axe, and I smoothed them down with the knife, while Peterkin remained in the bower, spinning, or, rather, twisting some strong thick cordage with which to fasten them to the boat. We worked hard and rapidly, so that, when the sun went down, Jack and I returned to the bower with four stout oars, which required little to be done to them save a slight degree of polishing with the knife. As we drew near we were suddenly arrested by the sound of a voice! We were not a little surprised at this--indeed I may almost say alarmed--for, although Peterkin was undoubtedly fond of talking, we had never, up to this time, found him talking to himself. We listened intently, and still heard the sound of a voice as if in conversation. Jack motioned me to be silent, and, advancing to the bower on tip-toe, we peeped in. The sight that met our gaze was certainly not a little amusing. On the top of a log which we sometimes used as a table, sat the black cat, with a very demure expression on its countenance; and in front of it, sitting on the ground, with his legs extended on either side of the log, was Peterkin. At the moment we saw him he was gazing intently into the cat's face, with his nose about four inches from it,--his hands being thrust into his breeches pockets. "Cat," said Peterkin, turning his head a little on one side, "I love you!" There was a pause, as if Peterkin awaited a reply to this affectionate declaration but the cat said nothing. "Do you hear me?" cried Peterkin, sharply. "I love you--I do. Don't you love me?" To this touching appeal the cat said "Mew," faintly. "Ah! that's right. You're a jolly old rascal. Why did you not speak at once? eh?" and Peterkin put forward his mouth and kissed the cat on the nose! "Yes," continued Peterkin, after a pause, "I love you. D'you think I'd say so if I didn't, you black villain? I love you because I've got to take care of you, and to look after you, and to think about you, and to see that you don't die--" "Mew, me-a-w!" said the cat. "Very good," continued Peterkin, "quite true, I have no doubt; but you've no right to interrupt me, sir. Hold your tongue till I have done speaking. Moreover, cat, I love you because you came to me the first time you ever saw me, and didn't seem to be afraid, and appeared to be fond of me, though you didn't know that I wasn't going to kill you. Now, that was brave, that was bold, and very jolly, old boy, and I love you for it--I do!" Again there was a pause of a few minutes, during which the cat looked placid, and Peterkin dropped his eyes upon its toes as if in contemplation. Suddenly he looked up. "Well, cat, what are you thinking about now? won't speak? eh? Now, tell me; don't you think it's a monstrous shame that these two scoundrels, Jack and Ralph, should keep us waiting for our supper so long?" Here the cat arose, put up its back and stretched itself; yawned slightly, and licked the point of Peterkin's nose! "Just so, old boy, you're a clever fellow,--I really do believe the brute understands me!" said Peterkin, while a broad grin overspread his face, as he drew back and surveyed the cat. At this point Jack burst into a loud fit of laughter. The cat uttered an angry fuff and fled, while Peterkin sprang up and exclaimed,-- "Bad luck to you, Jack! you've nearly made the heart jump out of my body, you have." "Perhaps I have," replied Jack, laughing, as we entered the bower, "but, as I don't intend to keep you or the cat any longer from your supper, I hope that you'll both forgive me." Peterkin endeavoured to turn this affair off with a laugh, but I observed that he blushed very deeply at the time we discovered ourselves, and he did not seem to relish any allusion to the subject afterwards; so we refrained from remarking on it ever after,--though it tickled us not a little at the time. After supper we retired to rest and to dream of wonderful adventures in our little boat, and distant voyages upon the sea. CHAPTER XVI. The boat launched--We visit the coral reef--The great breaker that never goes down--Coral insects--The way in which coral islands are made--The boat's sail--We tax our ingenuity to form fish-hooks--Some of the fish we saw--And a monstrous whale--Wonderful shower of little fish--Water-spouts. It was a bright, clear, beautiful morning, when we first launched our little boat and rowed out upon the placid waters of the lagoon. Not a breath of wind ruffled the surface of the deep. Not a cloud spotted the deep blue sky. Not a sound that was discordant broke the stillness of the morning, although there were many sounds, sweet, tiny, and melodious, that mingled in the universal harmony of nature. The sun was just rising from the Pacific's ample bosom and tipping the mountain tops with a red glow. The sea was shining like a sheet of glass, yet heaving with the long deep swell that, all the world round, indicates the life of ocean; and the bright sea-weeds and the brilliant corals shone in the depths of that pellucid water, as we rowed over it, like rare and precious gems. Oh! it was a sight fitted to stir the soul of man to its profoundest depths, and, if he owned a heart at all, to lift that heart in adoration and gratitude to the great Creator of this magnificent and glorious universe. At first, in the strength of our delight, we rowed hither and thither without aim or object. But after the effervescence of our spirits was abated, we began to look about us and to consider what we should do. "I vote that we row to the reef," cried Peterkin. "And I vote that we visit the islands within the lagoon," said I. "And I vote we do both," cried Jack, "so pull away, boys." As I have already said, we had made four oars, but our boat was so small that only two were necessary. The extra pair were reserved in case any accident should happen to the others. It was therefore only needful that two of us should row, while the third steered, by means of an oar, and relieved the rowers occasionally. First we landed on one of the small islands and ran all over it, but saw nothing worthy of particular notice. Then we landed on a larger island, on which were growing a few cocoa-nut trees. Not having eaten anything that morning, we gathered a few of the nuts and breakfasted. After this we pulled straight out to sea and landed on the coral reef. This was indeed a novel and interesting sight to us. We had now been so long on shore that we had almost forgotten the appearance of breakers, for there were none within the lagoon; but now, as we stood beside the foam-crested billow of the open sea, all the enthusiasm of the sailor was awakened in our breasts; and, as we gazed on the wide-spread ruin of that single magnificent breaker that burst in thunder at our feet, we forgot the Coral Island behind us; we forgot our bower and the calm repose of the scented woods; we forgot all that had passed during the last few months, and remembered nothing but the storms, the calms, the fresh breezes and the surging billows of the open sea. This huge, ceaseless breaker, to which I have so often alluded, was a much larger and more sublime object than we had at all imagined it to be. It rose many yards above the level of the sea, and could be seen approaching at some distance from the reef. Slowly and majestically it came on, acquiring greater volume and velocity as it advanced, until it assumed the form of a clear watery arch, which sparkled in the bright sun. On it came with resistless and solemn majesty,--the upper edge lipped gently over, and it fell with a roar that seemed as though the heart of Ocean were broken in the crash of tumultuous water, while the foam-clad coral reef appeared to tremble beneath the mighty shock! We gazed long and wonderingly at this great sight, and it was with difficulty we could tear ourselves away from it. As I have once before mentioned, this wave broke in many places over the reef and scattered some of its spray into the lagoon, but in most places the reef was sufficiently broad and elevated to receive and check its entire force. In many places the coral rocks were covered with vegetation,--the beginning, as it appeared to us, of future islands. Thus, on this reef, we came to perceive how most of the small islands of those seas are formed. On one part we saw the spray of the breaker washing over the rocks, and millions of little, active, busy creatures continuing the work of building up this living rampart. At another place, which was just a little too high for the waves to wash over it, the coral insects were all dead; for we found that they never did their work above water. They had faithfully completed the mighty work which their Creator had given them to do, and they were now all dead. Again, in other spots the ceaseless lashing of the sea had broken the dead coral in pieces, and cast it up in the form of sand. Here sea-birds had alighted, little pieces of sea-weed and stray bits of wood had been washed up, seeds of plants had been carried by the wind and a few lovely blades of bright green had already sprung up, which, when they died, would increase the size and fertility of these emeralds of Ocean. At other places these islets had grown apace, and were shaded by one or two cocoa-nut trees, which grew, literally, in the sand, and were constantly washed by the ocean spray; yet, as I have before remarked, their fruit was most refreshing and sweet to our taste. Again at this time Jack and I pondered the formation of the large coral islands. We could now understand how the low ones were formed, but the larger islands cost us much consideration, yet we could arrive at no certain conclusion on the subject. Having satisfied our curiosity and enjoyed ourselves during the whole day, in our little boat, we returned, somewhat wearied, and, withal, rather hungry, to our bower. "Now," said Jack, "as our boat answers so well, we will get a mast and sail made immediately." "So we will," cried Peterkin, as we all assisted to drag the boat above high-water mark; "we'll light our candle and set about it this very night. Hurrah, my boys, pull away!" As we dragged our boat, we observed that she grated heavily on her keel; and, as the sands were in this place mingled with broken coral rocks, we saw portions of the wood being scraped off. "Hallo!" cried Jack, on seeing this. "That won't do. Our keel will be worn off in no time at this rate." "So it will," said I, pondering deeply as to how this might be prevented. But I am not of a mechanical turn, naturally, so I could conceive no remedy save that of putting a plate of iron on the keel, but as we had no iron I knew not what was to be done. "It seems to me, Jack," I added, "that it is impossible to prevent the keel being worn off thus." "Impossible!" cried Peterkin, "my dear Ralph, you are mistaken, there is nothing so easy--" "How?" I inquired, in some surprise. "Why, by not using the boat at all!" replied Peterkin. "Hold your impudent tongue, Peterkin," said Jack, as he shouldered the oars, "come along with me and I'll give you work to do. In the first place, you will go and collect cocoa-nut fibre, and set to work to make sewing twine with it--" "Please, captain," interrupted Peterkin, "I've got lots of it made already,--more than enough, as a little friend of mine used to be in the habit of saying every day after dinner." "Very well," continued Jack; "then you'll help Ralph to collect cocoa-nut cloth, and cut it into shape, after which we'll make a sail of it. I'll see to getting the mast and the gearing; so let's to work." And to work we went right busily, so that in three days from that time we had set up a mast and sail, with the necessary rigging, in our little boat. The sail was not, indeed, very handsome to look at, as it was formed of a number of oblong patches of cloth; but we had sewed it well by means of our sail-needle, so that it was strong, which was the chief point. Jack had also overcome the difficulty about the keel, by pinning to it a _false_ keel. This was a piece of tough wood, of the same length and width as the real keel, and about five inches deep. He made it of this depth because the boat would be thereby rendered not only much more safe, but more able to beat against the wind; which, in a sea where the trade-winds blow so long and so steadily in one direction, was a matter of great importance. This piece of wood was pegged very firmly to the keel; and we now launched our boat with the satisfaction of knowing that when the false keel should be scraped off we could easily put on another; whereas, should the real keel have been scraped away, we could not have renewed it without taking our boat to pieces, which Peterkin said made his "marrow quake to think upon." The mast and sail answered excellently; and we now sailed about in the lagoon with great delight, and examined with much interest the appearance of our island from a distance. Also, we gazed into the depths of the water, and watched for hours the gambols of the curious and bright-coloured fish among the corals and sea-weed. Peterkin also made a fishing line, and Jack constructed a number of hooks, some of which were very good, others remarkably bad. Some of these hooks were made of iron- wood, which did pretty well, the wood being extremely hard, and Jack made them very thick and large. Fish there are not particular. Some of the crooked bones in fish-heads also answered for this purpose pretty well. But that which formed our best and most serviceable hook was the brass finger-ring belonging to Jack. It gave him not a little trouble to manufacture it. First he cut it with the axe; then twisted it into the form of a hook. The barb took him several hours to cut. He did it by means of constant sawing with the broken pen-knife. As for the point, an hour's rubbing on a piece of sandstone made an excellent one. It would be a matter of much time and labour to describe the appearance of the multitudes of fish that were day after day drawn into our boat by means of the brass hook. Peterkin always caught them,--for we observed that he derived much pleasure from fishing,--while Jack and I found ample amusement in looking on, also in gazing down at the coral groves, and in baiting the hook. Among the fish that we saw, but did not catch, were porpoises and sword-fish, whales and sharks. The porpoises came frequently into our lagoon in shoals, and amused us not a little by their bold leaps into the air, and their playful gambols in the sea. The sword- fish were wonderful creatures; some of them apparently ten feet in length, with an ivory spear, six or eight feet long, projecting from their noses. We often saw them darting after other fish, and no doubt they sometimes killed them with their ivory swords. Jack remembered having heard once of a sword-fish attacking a ship,--which seemed strange indeed; but, as they are often in the habit of attacking whales, perhaps it mistook the ship for one. This sword-fish ran against the vessel with such force, that it drove its sword quite through the thick planks; and when the ship arrived in harbour, long afterwards, the sword was found still sticking in it! Sharks did not often appear; but we took care never again to bathe in deep water without leaving one of our number in the boat to give us warning, if he should see a shark approaching. As for the whales, they never came into our lagoon, but we frequently saw them spouting in the deep water beyond the reef. I shall never forget my surprise the first day I saw one of these huge monsters close to me. We had been rambling about on the reef during the morning, and were about to re-embark in our little boat, to return home, when a loud blowing sound caused us to wheel rapidly round. We were just in time to see a shower of spray falling, and the flukes or tail of some monstrous fish disappear in the sea a few hundred yards off. We waited some time to see if he would rise again. As we stood, the sea seemed to open up at our very feet; an immense spout of water was sent with a snort high into the air, and the huge blunt head of a sperm whale arose before us. It was so large that it could easily have taken our little boat, along with ourselves, into its mouth! It plunged slowly back into the sea, like a large ship foundering, and struck the water with its tail so forcibly as to cause a sound like a cannon shot. We also saw a great number of flying fish, although we caught none; and we noticed that they never flew out of the water except when followed by their bitter foe, the dolphin, from whom they thus endeavoured to escape. But of all the fish that we saw, none surprised us so much as those that we used to find in shallow pools after a shower of rain; and this not on account of their appearance, for they were ordinary-looking and very small, but on account of their having descended in a shower of rain! We could account for them in no other way, because the pools in which we found these fish were quite dry before the shower, and at some distance above high-water mark. Jack, however, suggested a cause which seemed to me very probable. We used often to see water-spouts in the sea. A water- spout is a whirling body of water, which rises from the sea like a sharp- pointed pillar. After rising a good way, it is met by a long tongue, which comes down from the clouds; and when the two have joined, they look something like an hour-glass. The water-spout is then carried by the wind, sometimes gently, sometimes with violence, over the sea, sometimes up into the clouds, and then, bursting asunder, it descends in a deluge. This often happens over the land as well as over the sea; and it sometimes does much damage, but frequently it passes gently away. Now, Jack thought that the little fish might perhaps have been carried up in a water-spout, and so sent down again in a shower of rain. But we could not be certain as to this point; yet we thought it likely. During these delightful fishing and boating excursions we caught a good many eels, which we found to be very good to eat. We also found turtles among the coral rocks, and made excellent soup in our iron kettle. Moreover, we discovered many shrimps and prawns, so that we had no lack of variety in our food; and, indeed, we never passed a week without making some new and interesting discovery of some sort or other, either on the land or in the sea. CHAPTER XVII. A monster wave and its consequences--The boat lost and found--Peterkin's terrible accident--Supplies of food for a voyage in the boat--We visit Penguin Island, and are amazed beyond measure--Account of the penguins. One day, not long after our little boat was finished, we were sitting on the rocks at Spouting Cliff, and talking of an excursion which we intended to make to Penguin Island the next day. "You see," said Peterkin, "it might be all very well for a stupid fellow like me to remain here and leave the penguins alone, but it would be quite inconsistent with your characters as philosophers to remain any longer in ignorance of the habits and customs of these birds; so the sooner we go the better." "Very true," said I; "there is nothing I desire so much as to have a closer inspection of them." "And I think," said Jack, "that you had better remain at home, Peterkin, to take care of the cat; for I'm sure the hogs will be at it in your absence, out of revenge for your killing their great-grandmother so recklessly." "Stay at home?" cried Peterkin; "my dear fellow, you would certainly lose your way, or get upset, if I were not there to take care of you." "Ah, true," said Jack, gravely, "that did not occur to me; no doubt you must go. Our boat does require a good deal of ballast; and all that you say, Peterkin, carries so much weight with it, that we won't need stones if you go." Now, while my companions were talking, a notable event occurred, which, as it is not generally known, I shall be particular in recording here. While we were talking, as I have said, we noticed a dark line, like a low cloud or fog-bank, on the seaward horizon. The day was a fine one, though cloudy, and a gentle breeze was blowing, but the sea was not rougher, or the breaker on the reef higher, than usual. At first we thought that this looked like a thunder-cloud; and, as we had had a good deal of broken weather of late, accompanied by occasional peals of thunder, we supposed that a storm must be approaching. Gradually, however, this line seemed to draw nearer, without spreading up over the sky, as would certainly have been the case if it had been a storm-cloud. Still nearer it came, and soon we saw that it was moving swiftly towards the island; but there was no sound till it reached the islands out at sea. As it passed these islands, we observed, with no little anxiety, that a cloud of white foam encircled them, and burst in spray into the air: it was accompanied by a loud roar. This led us to conjecture that the approaching object was an enormous wave of the sea; but we had no idea how large it was till it came near to ourselves. When it approached the outer reef, however, we were awe-struck with its unusual magnitude; and we sprang to our feet, and clambered hastily up to the highest point of the precipice, under an indefinable feeling of fear. I have said before that the reef opposite Spouting Cliff was very near to the shore, while, just in front of the bower, it was at a considerable distance out to sea. Owing to this formation, the wave reached the reef at the latter point before it struck at the foot of Spouting Cliff. The instant it touched the reef we became aware, for the first time, of its awful magnitude. It burst completely over the reef at all points, with a roar that seemed louder to me than thunder; and this roar continued for some seconds, while the wave rolled gradually along towards the cliff on which we stood. As its crest reared before us, we felt that we were in great danger, and turned to flee; but we were too late. With a crash that seemed to shake the solid rocks the gigantic billow fell, and instantly the spouting-holes sent up a gush of water-spouts with such force that they shrieked on issuing from their narrow vents. It seemed to us as if the earth had been blown up with water. We were stunned and confused by the shock, and so drenched and blinded with spray, that we knew not for a few moments whither to flee for shelter. At length we all three gained an eminence beyond the reach of the water; but what a scene of devastation met our gaze as we looked along the shore! This enormous wave not only burst over the reef, but continued its way across the lagoon, and fell on the sandy beach of the island with such force that passed completely over it and dashed into the woods, levelling the smaller trees and bushes in its headlong course! On seeing this, Jack said he feared our bower must have been swept away, and that the boat, which was on the beach, must have been utterly destroyed. Our hearts sank within us as we thought of this, and we hastened round through the woods towards our home. On reaching it we found, to our great relief of mind, that the force of the wave had been expended just before reaching the bower; but the entrance to it was almost blocked up by the torn-up bushes and tangled heaps of sea-weed. Having satisfied ourselves as to the bower, we hurried to the spot where the boat had been left; but no boat was there! The spot on which it had stood was vacant, and no sign of it could we see on looking around us. "It may have been washed up into the woods," said Jack, hurrying up the beach as he spoke. Still, no boat was to be seen, and we were about to give ourselves over to despair, when Peterkin called to Jack and said,-- "Jack, my friend, you were once so exceedingly sagacious and wise as to make me acquainted with the fact that cocoa nuts grow upon trees; will you now be so good as to inform me what sort of fruit that is growing on the top of yonder bush? for I confess to being ignorant, or, at least, doubtful on the point." We looked towards the bush indicated, and there, to our surprise, beheld our little boat snugly nestled among the leaves! We were very much overjoyed at this, for we would have suffered any loss rather than the loss of our boat. We found that the wave had actually borne the boat on its crest from the beach into the woods, and there launched it into the heart of this bush; which was extremely fortunate, for had it been tossed against a rock or a tree, it would have been dashed to pieces, whereas it had not received the smallest injury. It was no easy matter, however, to get it out of the bush and down to the sea again. This cost us two days of hard labour to accomplish. We had also much ado to clear away the rubbish from before the bower, and spent nearly a week in constant labour ere we got the neighbourhood to look as clean and orderly as before; for the uprooted bushes and sea-weed that lay on the beach formed a more dreadfully confused-looking mass than one who had not seen the place after the inundation could conceive. Before leaving the subject I may mention, for the sake of those who interest themselves in the curious natural phenomena of our world, that this gigantic wave occurs regularly on some of the islands of the Pacific, once, and sometimes twice in the year. I heard this stated by the missionaries during my career in those seas. They could not tell me whether it visited all of the islands, but I was certainly assured that it occurred periodically in some of them. After we had got our home put to rights and cleared of the _debris_ of the inundation, we again turned our thoughts to paying the penguins a visit. The boat was therefore overhauled and a few repairs done. Then we prepared a supply of provisions, for we intended to be absent at least a night or two, perhaps longer. This took us some time to do, for while Jack was busy with the boat, Peterkin was sent into the woods to spear a hog or two, and had to search long, sometimes, ere he found them. Peterkin was usually sent on this errand, when we wanted a pork chop (which was not seldom), because he was so active, and could run so wonderfully fast that he found no difficulty in overtaking the hogs; but, being dreadfully reckless, he almost invariably tumbled over stumps and stones in the course of his wild chase, and seldom returned home without having knocked the skin off his shins. Once, indeed, a more serious accident happened to him. He had been out all morning alone and did not return at the usual time to dinner. We wondered at this, for Peterkin was always very punctual at the dinner hour. As supper-time drew near we began to be anxious about him, and at length sallied forth to search the woods. For a long time we sought in vain, but a little before dark we came upon the tracks of the hogs, which we followed up until we came to the brow of a rather steep bank or precipice. Looking over this we beheld Peterkin lying in a state of insensibility at the foot, with his cheek resting on the snout of a little pig, which was pinned to the earth by the spear! We were dreadfully alarmed, but hastened to bathe his forehead with water, and had soon the satisfaction of seeing him revive. After we had carried him home he related to as how the thing had happened. "You must know," said he, "I walked about all the forenoon, till I was as tired as an old donkey, without seeing a single grunter, not so much as a track of one; but, as I was determined not to return empty-handed, I resolved to go without my dinner and--" "What!" exclaimed Jack, "did you _really_ resolve to do that?" "Now, Jack, hold your tongue," returned Peterkin; "I say that I resolved to forego my dinner and to push to the head of the small valley, where I felt pretty sure of discovering the hogs. I soon found that I was on the right scent, for I had scarcely walked half a mile in the direction of the small plum tree we found there the other day, when a squeak fell on my ear. 'Ho, ho,' said I, 'there you go, my boys;' and I hurried up the glen. I soon started them, and singling out a fat pig, ran tilt at him. In a few seconds I was up with him, and stuck my spear right through his dumpy body. Just as I did so, I saw that we were on the edge of a precipice, whether high or low I knew not, but I had been running at such a pace that I could not stop, so the pig and I gave a howl in concert and went plunging over together. I remembered nothing more after that, till I came to my senses and found you bathing my temples, and Ralph wringing his hands over me." But although Peterkin was often unfortunate, in the way of getting tumbles, he was successful on the present occasion in hunting, and returned before evening with three very nice little hogs. I, also, was successful in my visit to the mud-flats, where I killed several ducks. So that, when we launched and loaded our boat at sunrise the following morning, we found our store of provisions to be more than sufficient. Part had been cooked the night before, and, on taking note of the different items, we found the account to stand thus:-- 10 Bread-fruits, (two baked, eight unbaked.) 20 Yams, (six roasted, the rest raw.) 6 Taro roots. 50 Fine large plums. 6 Cocoa nuts, ripe. 6 Ditto green, (for drinking.) 4 Large ducks and two small ones, raw. 3 Cold roast pigs, with stuffing. I may here remark that the stuffing had been devised by Peterkin specially for the occasion. He kept the manner of its compounding a profound secret, so I cannot tell what it was; but I can say, with much confidence, that we found it to be atrociously bad, and, after the first tasting, scraped it carefully out and threw it overboard. We calculated that this supply would last us for several days, but we afterwards found that it was much more than we required, especially in regard to the cocoa nuts, of which we found large supplies wherever we went. However, as Peterkin remarked, it was better to have too much than too little, as we knew not to what straits we might be put during our voyage. It was a very calm sunny morning when we launched forth and rowed over the lagoon towards the outlet in the reef, and passed between the two green islets that guard the entrance. We experienced some difficulty and no little danger in passing the surf of the breaker, and shipped a good deal of water in the attempt; but, once past the billow, we found ourselves floating placidly on the long oily swell that rose and fell slowly as it rolled over the wide ocean. Penguin Island lay on the other side of our own island, at about a mile beyond the outer reef, and we calculated that it must be at least twenty miles distant by the way we should have to go. We might, indeed, have shortened the way by coasting round our island inside of the lagoon, and going out at the passage in the reef nearly opposite to Penguin Island, but we preferred to go by the open sea; first, because it was more adventurous; and, secondly, because we should have the pleasure of again feeling the motion of the deep, which we all loved very much, not being liable to sea sickness. "I wish we had a breeze," said Jack. "So do I," cried Peterkin, resting on his oar and wiping his heated brow; "pulling is hard work. Oh dear, if we could only catch a hundred or two of these gulls, tie them to the boat with long strings, and make them fly as we want them, how capital it would be!" "Or bore a hole through a shark's tail, and reeve a rope through it, eh?" remarked Jack. "But, I say, it seems that my wish is going to be granted, for here comes a breeze. Ship your oar, Peterkin. Up with the mast, Ralph; I'll see to the sail. Mind your helm; look out for squalls!" This last speech was caused by the sudden appearance of a dark blue line on the horizon, which, in an incredibly short space of time, swept down on us, lashing up the sea in white foam as it went. We presented the stern of the boat to its first violence, and, in a few seconds, it moderated into a steady breeze, to which we spread our sail and flew merrily over the waves. Although the breeze died away soon afterwards, it had been so stiff while it lasted, that we were carried over the greater part of our way before it fell calm again; so that, when the flapping of the sail against the mast told us that it was time to resume the oars, we were not much more than a mile from Penguin Island. "There go the soldiers!" cried Peterkin as we came in sight of it; "how spruce their white trousers look, this morning! I wonder if they will receive us kindly. D'you think they are hospitable, Jack?" "Don't talk, Peterkin, but pull away, and you shall see shortly." As we drew near to the island we were much amused by the manoeuvres and appearance of these strange birds. They seemed to be of different species, for some had crests on their heads while others had none, and while some were about the size of a goose others appeared nearly as large as a swan. We also saw a huge albatross soaring above the heads of the penguins. It was followed and surrounded by numerous flocks of sea-gulls. Having approached to within a few yards of the island, which was a low rock, with no other vegetation on it than a few bushes, we lay on our oars and gazed at the birds with surprise and pleasure, they returning our gaze with interest. We now saw that their soldier-like appearance was owing to the stiff, erect manner in which they sat on their short legs,--"Bolt-up-right," as Peterkin expressed it. They had black heads, long sharp beaks, white breasts, and bluish backs. Their wings were so short that they looked more like the fins of a fish, and, indeed, we soon saw that they used them for the purpose of swimming under water. There were no quills on these wings, but a sort of scaly feathers; which also thickly covered their bodies. Their legs were short, and placed so far back that the birds, while on land, were obliged to stand quite upright in order to keep their balance; but in the water they floated like other water-fowl. At first we were so stunned with the clamour which they and other sea-birds kept up around us, that we knew not which way to look,--for they covered the rocks in thousands; but, as we continued to gaze, we observed several quadrupeds (as we thought) walking in the midst of the penguins. "Pull in a bit," cried Peterkin, "and let's see what these are. They must be fond of noisy company, to consort with such creatures." To our surprise we found that these were no other than penguins which had gone down on all fours, and were crawling among the bushes on their feet and wings, just like quadrupeds. Suddenly one big old bird, that had been sitting on a point very near to us, gazing in mute astonishment, became alarmed, and, scuttling down the rocks, plumped or fell, rather than ran, into the sea. It dived in a moment, and, a few seconds afterwards, came out of the water far a-head, with such a spring, and such a dive back into the sea again, that we could scarcely believe it was not a fish that had leaped in sport. "That beats everything," said Peterkin, rubbing his nose, and screwing up his face with an expression of exasperated amazement. "I've heard of a thing being neither fish, flesh, nor fowl, but I never did expect to live to see a brute that was all three together,--at once--in one! But look there!" he continued, pointing with a look of resignation to the shore, "look there! there's no end to it. What _has_ that brute got under its tail?" We turned to look in the direction pointed out, and there saw a penguin walking slowly and very sedately along the shore with an egg under its tail. There were several others, we observed, burdened in the same way; and we found afterwards that these were a species of penguins that always carried their eggs so. Indeed, they had a most convenient cavity for the purpose, just between the tail and the legs. We were very much impressed with the regularity and order of this colony. The island seemed to be apportioned out into squares, of which each penguin possessed one, and sat in stiff solemnity in the middle of it, or took a slow march up and down the spaces between. Some were hatching their eggs, but others were feeding their young ones in a manner that caused us to laugh not a little. The mother stood on a mound or raised rock, while the young one stood patiently below her on the ground. Suddenly the mother raised her head and uttered a series of the most discordant cackling sounds. "She's going to choke," cried Peterkin. But this was not the case, although, I confess, she looked like it. In a few seconds she put down her head and opened her mouth, into which the young one thrust its beak and seemed to suck something from her throat. Then the cackling was renewed, the sucking continued, and so the operation of feeding was carried on till the young one was satisfied; but what she fed her little one with, we could not tell. "Now, just look yonder!" said Peterkin, in an excited tone; "if that isn't the most abominable piece of maternal deception I ever saw. That rascally old lady penguin has just pitched her young one into the sea, and there's another about to follow her example." This indeed seemed to be the cue, for, on the top of a steep rock close to the edge of the sea, we observed an old penguin endeavouring to entice her young one into the water; but the young one seemed very unwilling to go, and, notwithstanding the enticements of its mother, moved very slowly towards her. At last she went gently behind the young bird and pushed it a little towards the water, but with great tenderness, as much as to say, 'Don't be afraid, darling! I won't hurt you, my pet!' but no sooner did she get it to the edge of the rock, where it stood looking pensively down at the sea, than she gave it a sudden and violent push, sending it headlong down the slope into the water, where its mother left it to scramble ashore as it best could. We observed many of them employed in doing this, and we came to the conclusion that this is the way in which old penguins teach their children to swim. Scarcely had we finished making our remarks on this, when we were startled by about a dozen of the old birds hopping in the most clumsy and ludicrous manner towards the sea. The beach, here, was a sloping rock, and when they came to it, some of them succeeded in hopping down in safety, but others lost their balance and rolled and scrambled down the slope in the most helpless manner. The instant they reached the water, however, they seemed to be in their proper element. They dived and bounded out of it and into it again with the utmost agility; and so, diving and bounding and spluttering, for they could not fly, they went rapidly out to sea. On seeing this, Peterkin turned with a grave face to us and said, "It's my opinion that these birds are all stark, staring mad, and that this is an enchanted island. I therefore propose that we should either put about ship and fly in terror from the spot, or land valorously on the island, and sell our lives as dearly as we can." "I vote for landing, so pull in, lads," said Jack, giving a stroke with his oar that made the boat spin. In a few seconds we ran the boat into a little creek where we made her fast to a projecting piece of coral, and, running up the beach, entered the ranks of the penguins armed with our cudgels and our spear. We were greatly surprised to find that, instead of attacking us or showing signs of fear at our approach, these curious birds did not move from their places until we laid hands on them, and merely turned their eyes on us in solemn, stupid wonder as we passed. There was one old penguin, however, that began to walk slowly toward the sea, and Peterkin took it into his head that he would try to interrupt its progress, so he ran between it and the sea and brandished his cudgel in its face. But this proved to be a resolute old bird. It would not retreat; nay, more, it would not cease to advance, but battled with Peterkin bravely and drove him before it until it reached the sea. Had Peterkin used his club he could easily have felled it, no doubt; but, as he had no wish to do so cruel an act merely out of sport, he let the bird escape. We spent fully three hours on this island in watching the habits of these curious birds, and, when we finally left them, we all three concluded, after much consultation, that they were the most wonderful creatures we had ever seen; and further, we thought it probable that they were the most wonderful creatures in the world! CHAPTER XVIII. An awful storm and its consequences--Narrow escape--A rock proves a sure foundation--A fearful night and a bright morning--Deliverance from danger. It was evening before we left the island of the penguins. As we had made up our minds to encamp for the night on a small island, whereon grew a few cocoa-nut trees, which was about two miles off, we lay to our oars with some energy. But a danger was in store for us which we had not anticipated. The wind, which had carried us so quickly to Penguin Island, freshened as evening drew on, to a stiff breeze, and, before we had made half the distance to the small island, it became a regular gale. Although it was not so directly against us as to prevent our rowing in the course we wished to go, yet it checked us very much; and although the force of the sea was somewhat broken by the island, the waves soon began to rise, and to roll their broken crests against our small craft, so that she began to take in water, and we had much ado to keep ourselves afloat. At last the wind and sea together became so violent that we found it impossible to make the island, so Jack suddenly put the head of the boat round and ordered Peterkin and me to hoist a corner of the sail, intending to run back to Penguin Island. "We shall at least have the shelter of the bushes," he said, as the boat flew before the wind, "and the penguins will keep us company." As Jack spoke, the wind suddenly shifted, and blew so much against us that we were forced to hoist more of the sail in order to beat up for the island, being by this change thrown much to leeward of it. What made matters worse was, that the gale came in squalls, so that we were more than once nearly upset. "Stand by, both of you," cried Jack, in a quick, earnest tone; "be ready to dowse the sail. I very much fear we won't make the island after all." Peterkin and I were so much in the habit of trusting everything to Jack that we had fallen into the way of not considering things, especially such things as were under Jack's care. We had, therefore, never doubted for a moment that all was going well, so that it was with no little anxiety that we heard him make the above remark. However, we had no time for question or surmise, for, at the moment he spoke, a heavy squall was bearing down upon us, and, as we were then flying with our lee gunwale dipping occasionally under the waves, it was evident that we should have to lower our sail altogether. In a few seconds the squall struck the boat, but Peterkin and I had the sail down in a moment, so that it did not upset us; but, when it was past, we were more than half full of water. This I soon baled out, while Peterkin again hoisted a corner of the sail; but the evil which Jack had feared came upon us. We found it quite impossible to make Penguin Island. The gale carried us quickly past it towards the open sea, and the terrible truth flashed upon us that we should be swept out and left to perish miserably in a small boat in the midst of the wide ocean. This idea was forced very strongly upon us because we saw nothing in the direction whither the wind was blowing us save the raging billows of the sea; and, indeed, we trembled as we gazed around us, for we were now beyond the shelter of the islands, and it seemed as though any of the huge billows, which curled over in masses of foam, might swallow us up in a moment. The water, also, began to wash in over our sides, and I had to keep constantly baling, for Jack could not quit the helm nor Peterkin the sail for an instant, without endangering our lives. In the midst of this distress Jack uttered an exclamation of hope, and pointed towards a low island or rock which lay directly ahead. It had been hitherto unobserved, owing to the dark clouds that obscured the sky and the blinding spray that seemed to fill the whole atmosphere. As we neared this rock we observed that it was quite destitute of trees and verdure, and so low that the sea broke completely over it. In fact it was nothing more than the summit of one of the coral formations, which rose only a few feet above the level of the water, and was, in stormy weather, all but invisible. Over this island the waves were breaking in the utmost fury, and our hearts sank within us as we saw that there was not a spot where we could thrust our little boat without its being dashed to pieces. "Show a little bit more sail," cried Jack, as we swept past the weather side of the rock with fearful speed. "Ay, ay," answered Peterkin, hoisting about a foot more of our sail. Little though the addition was it caused the boat to lie over and creak so loudly, as we cleft the foaming waves, that I expected to be upset every instant; and I blamed Jack in my heart for his rashness. But I did him injustice, for, although during two seconds the water rushed in-board in a torrent, he succeeded in steering us sharply round to the leeward side of the rock, where the water was comparatively calm, and the force of the breeze broken. "Out your oars now, lads; that's well done. Give way!" We obeyed instantly. The oars splashed into the waves together. One good hearty pull, and we were floating in a comparatively calm creek that was so narrow as to be barely able to admit our boat. Here we were in perfect safety, and, as we leaped on shore and fastened our cable to the rocks, I thanked God in my heart for our deliverance from so great danger. But, although I have said we were now in safety, I suspect that few of my readers would have envied our position. It is true we had no lack of food, but we were drenched to the skin; the sea was foaming round us and the spray flying over our heads, so that we were completely enveloped, as it were, in water; the spot on which we had landed was not more than twelve yards in diameter, and from this spot we could not move without the risk of being swept away by the storm. At the upper end of the creek was a small hollow or cave in the rock, which sheltered us from the fury of the winds and waves; and as the rock extended in a sort of ledge over our heads, it prevented the spray from falling upon us. "Why," said Peterkin, beginning to feel cheery again, "it seems to me that we have got into a mermaid's cave, for there is nothing but water all round us; and as for earth or sky, they are things of the past." Peterkin's idea was not inappropriate, for, what with the sea roaring in white foam up to our very feet, and the spray flying in white sheets continually over our heads, and the water dripping heavily from the ledge above like a curtain in front of our cave, it did seem to us very much more like being below than above water. "Now, boys," cried Jack, "bestir yourselves, and let's make ourselves comfortable. Toss out our provisions, Peterkin; and here, Ralph, lend a hand to haul up the boat. Look sharp." "Ay, ay, captain," we cried, as we hastened to obey, much cheered by the hearty manner of our comrade. Fortunately the cave, although not very deep, was quite dry, so that we succeeded in making ourselves much more comfortable than could have been expected. We landed our provisions, wrung the water out of our garments, spread our sail below us for a carpet, and, after having eaten a hearty meal, began to feel quite cheerful. But as night drew on, our spirits sank again, for with the daylight all evidence of our security vanished away. We could no longer see the firm rock on which we lay, while we were stunned with the violence of the tempest that raged around us. The night grew pitchy dark, as it advanced, so that we could not see our hands when we held them up before our eyes, and were obliged to feel each other occasionally to make sure that we were safe, for the storm at last became so terrible that it was difficult to make our voices audible. A slight variation of the wind, as we supposed, caused a few drops of spray ever and anon to blow into our faces; and the eddy of the sea, in its mad boiling, washed up into our little creek until it reached our feet and threatened to tear away our boat. In order to prevent this latter calamity, we hauled the boat farther up and held the cable in our hands. Occasional flashes of lightning shone with a ghastly glare through the watery curtains around us, and lent additional horror to the scene. Yet we longed for those dismal flashes, for they were less appalling than the thick blackness that succeeded them. Crashing peals of thunder seemed to tear the skies in twain, and fell upon our ears through the wild yelling of the hurricane as if it had been but a gentle summer breeze; while the billows burst upon the weather side of the island until we fancied that the solid rock was giving way, and, in our agony, we clung to the bare ground, expecting every moment to be whirled away and whelmed in the black howling sea! Oh! it was a night of terrible anxiety, and no one can conceive the feelings of intense gratitude and relief with which we at last saw the dawn of day break through the vapory mists around us. For three days and three nights we remained on this rock, while the storm continued to rage with unabated fury. On the morning of the fourth day it suddenly ceased, and the wind fell altogether; but the waves still ran so high that we did not dare to put off in our boat. During the greater part of this period we scarcely slept above a few minutes at a time, but on the third night we slept soundly and awoke early on the fourth morning to find the sea very much down, and the sun shining brightly again in the clear blue sky. It was with light hearts that we launched forth once more in our little boat and steered away for our island home, which, we were overjoyed to find, was quite visible on the horizon, for we had feared that we had been blown out of sight of it altogether. As it was a dead calm we had to row during the greater part of the day; but towards the afternoon a fair breeze sprang up, which enabled us to hoist our sail. We soon passed Penguin Island, and the other island which we had failed to reach on the day the storm commenced; but as we had still enough of provisions, and were anxious to get home, we did not land, to the great disappointment of Peterkin, who seemed to entertain quite an affection for the penguins. Although the breeze was pretty fresh for several hours, we did not reach the outer reef of our island till night-fall, and before we had sailed more than a hundred yards into the lagoon, the wind died away altogether, so that we had to take to our oars again. It was late and the moon and stars were shining brightly when we arrived opposite the bower and leaped upon the strand. So glad were we to be safe back again on our beloved island, that we scarcely took time to drag the boat a short way up the beach, and then ran up to see that all was right at the bower. I must confess, however, that my joy was mingled with a vague sort of fear lest our home had been visited and destroyed during our absence; but on reaching it we found everything just as it had been left, and the poor black cat curled up, sound asleep, on the coral table in front of our humble dwelling. CHAPTER XIX. Shoemaking--The even tenor of our way suddenly interrupted--An unexpected visit and an appalling battle--We all become warriors, and Jack proves himself be a hero. For many months after this we continued to live on our island in uninterrupted harmony and happiness. Sometimes we went out a-fishing in the lagoon, and sometimes went a-hunting in the woods, or ascended to the mountain top, by way of variety, although Peterkin always asserted that we went for the purpose of hailing any ship that might chance to heave in sight. But I am certain that none of us wished to be delivered from our captivity, for we were extremely happy, and Peterkin used to say that as we were very young we should not feel the loss of a year or two. Peterkin, as I have said before, was thirteen years of age, Jack eighteen, and I fifteen. But Jack was very tall, strong, and manly for his age, and might easily have been mistaken for twenty. The climate was so beautiful that it seemed to be a perpetual summer, and as many of the fruit-trees continued to bear fruit and blossom all the year round, we never wanted for a plentiful supply of food. The hogs, too, seemed rather to increase than diminish, although Peterkin was very frequent in his attacks on them with his spear. If at any time we failed in finding a drove, we had only to pay a visit to the plum-tree before mentioned, where we always found a large family of them asleep under its branches. We employed ourselves very busily during this time in making various garments of cocoa-nut cloth, as those with which we had landed were beginning to be very ragged. Peterkin also succeeded in making excellent shoes out of the skin of the old hog, in the following manner:--He first cut a piece of the hide, of an oblong form, a few inches longer than his foot. This he soaked in water, and, while it was wet, he sewed up one end of it, so as to form a rough imitation of that part of the heel of a shoe where the seam is. This done, he bored a row of holes all round the edge of the piece of skin, through which a tough line was passed. Into the sewed-up part of this shoe he thrust his heel, then, drawing the string tight, the edges rose up and overlapped his foot all round. It is true there were a great many ill-looking puckers in these shoes, but we found them very serviceable notwithstanding, and Jack came at last to prefer them to his long boots. We ago made various other useful articles, which added to our comfort, and once or twice spoke of building us a house, but we had so great an affection for the bower, and, withal, found it so serviceable, that we determined not to leave it, nor to attempt the building of a house, which, in such a climate, might turn out to be rather disagreeable than useful. We often examined the pistol that we had found in the house on the other side of the island, and Peterkin wished much that we had powder and shot, as it would render pig-killing much easier; but, after all, we had become so expert in the use of our sling and bow and spear, that we were independent of more deadly weapons. Diving in the Water Garden also continued to afford us as much pleasure as ever; and Peterkin began to be a little more expert in the water from constant practice. As for Jack and I, we began to feel as if water were our native element, and revelled in it with so much confidence and comfort that Peterkin said he feared we would turn into fish some day, and swim off and leave him; adding, that he had been for a long time observing that Jack was becoming more and more like a shark every day. Whereupon Jack remarked, that if he, Peterkin, were changed into a fish, he would certainly turn into nothing better or bigger than a shrimp. Poor Peterkin did not envy us our delightful excursions under water, except, indeed, when Jack would dive down to the bottom of the Water Garden, sit down on a rock and look up and make faces at him. Peterkin did feel envious then, and often said he would give anything to be able to do that. I was much amused when Peterkin said this; for if he could only have seen his own face when he happened to take a short dive, he would have seen that Jack's was far surpassed by it. The great difference being, however, that Jack made faces on purpose--Peterkin couldn't help it! Now, while we were engaged with these occupations and amusements, an event occurred one day which was as unexpected as it was exceedingly alarming and very horrible. Jack and I were sitting, as we were often wont to do, on the rocks at Spouting Cliff, and Peterkin was wringing the water from his garments, having recently fallen by accident into the sea,--a thing he was constantly doing,--when our attention was suddenly arrested by two objects which appeared on the horizon. "What are yon, think you?" I said, addressing Jack. "I can't imagine," answered he; "I've noticed them for some time, and fancied they were black sea-gulls, but the more I look at them the more I feel convinced they are much larger than gulls." "They seem to be coming towards us," said I. "Hallo! what's wrong?" inquired Peterkin, coming up. "Look there," said Jack. "Whales!" cried Peterkin, shading his eyes with his hand. "No! eh! can they be boats, Jack?" Our hearts beat with excitement at the very thought of seeing human faces again. "I think you are about right, Peterkin;--but they seem to me to move strangely for boats," said Jack, in a low tone, as if he were talking to himself. I noticed that a shade of anxiety crossed Jack's countenance as he gazed long and intently at the two objects, which were now nearing us fast. At last he sprang to his feet. "They are canoes, Ralph! whether war-canoes or not I cannot tell, but this I know, that all the natives of the South Sea Islands are fierce cannibals, and they have little respect for strangers. We must hide if they land here, which I earnestly hope they will not do." I was greatly alarmed at Jack's speech, but I confess I thought less of what he said than of the earnest, anxious manner in which he said it, and it was with very uncomfortable feelings that Peterkin and I followed him quickly into the woods. "How unfortunate," said I, as we gained the shelter of the bushes, "that we have forgotten our arms." "It matters not," said Jack; "here are clubs enough and to spare." As he spoke, he laid his hand on a bundle of stout poles of various sizes, which Peterkin's ever-busy hands had formed, during our frequent visits to the cliff, for no other purpose, apparently, than that of having something to do. We each selected a stout club according to our several tastes, and lay down behind a rock, whence we could see the canoes approach, without ourselves being seen. At first we made an occasional remark on their appearance, but after they entered the lagoon, and drew near the beach, we ceased to speak, and gazed with intense interest at the scene before us. We now observed that the foremost canoe was being chased by the other, and that it contained a few women and children, as well as men,--perhaps forty souls altogether; while the canoe which pursued it contained only men. They seemed to be about the same in number, but were better armed, and had the appearance of being a war party. Both crews were paddling with all their might, and it seemed as if the pursuers exerted themselves to overtake the natives ere they could land. In this, however, they failed. The foremost canoe made for the beach close beneath the rocks behind which we were concealed. Their short paddles flashed like meteors in the water, and sent up a constant shower of spray. The foam curled from the prow, and the eyes of the rowers glistened in their black faces as they strained every muscle of their naked bodies; nor did they relax their efforts till the canoe struck the beach with a violent shock; then, with a shout of defiance, the whole party sprang, as if by magic, from the canoe to the shore. Three women, two of whom carried infants in their arms, rushed into the woods; and the men crowded to the water's edge, with stones in their hands, spears levelled, and clubs brandished, to resist the landing of their enemies. The distance between the two canoes had been about half a mile, and, at the great speed they were going, this was soon passed. As the pursuers neared the shore, no sign of fear or hesitation was noticeable. On they came like a wild charger,--received but recked not of a shower of stones. The canoe struck, and, with a yell that seemed to issue from the throats of incarnate fiends, they leaped into the water, and drove their enemies up the beach. The battle that immediately ensued was frightful to behold. Most of the men wielded clubs of enormous size and curious shapes, with which they dashed out each other's brains. As they were almost entirely naked, and had to bound, stoop, leap, and run, in their terrible hand-to-hand encounters, they looked more like demons than human beings. I felt my heart grow sick at the sight of this bloody battle, and would fain have turned away, but a species of fascination seemed to hold me down and glue my eyes upon the combatants. I observed that the attacking party was led by a most extraordinary being, who, from his size and peculiarity, I concluded was a chief. His hair was frizzed out to an enormous extent, so that it resembled a large turban. It was of a light-yellow hue, which surprised me much, for the man's body was as black as coal, and I felt convinced that the hair must have been dyed. He was tattooed from head to foot; and his face, besides being tattooed, was besmeared with red paint, and streaked with white. Altogether, with his yellow turban-like hair, his Herculean black frame, his glittering eyes and white teeth, he seemed the most terrible monster I ever beheld. He was very active in the fight, and had already killed four men. Suddenly the yellow-haired chief was attacked by a man quite as strong and large as himself. He flourished a heavy club something like an eagle's beak at the point. For a second or two these giants eyed each other warily, moving round and round, as if to catch each other at a disadvantage, but seeing that nothing was to be gained by this caution, and that the loss of time might effectually turn the tide of battle either way, they apparently made up their minds to attack at the same instant, for, with a wild shout and simultaneous spring, they swung their heavy clubs, which met with a loud report. Suddenly the yellow-haired savage tripped, his enemy sprang forward, the ponderous club was swung, but it did not descend, for at that moment the savage was felled to the ground by a stone from the hand of one who had witnessed his chief's danger. This was the turning-point in the battle. The savages who landed first turned and fled towards the bush, on seeing the fall of their chief. But not one escaped. They were all overtaken and felled to the earth. I saw, however, that they were not all killed. Indeed, their enemies, now that they were conquered, seemed anxious to take them alive; and they succeeded in securing fifteen, whom they bound hand and foot with cords, and, carrying them up into the woods, laid them down among the bushes. Here they left them, for what purpose I knew not, and returned to the scene of the late battle, where the remnant of the party were bathing their wounds. Out of the forty blacks that composed the attacking party, only twenty- eight remained alive, two of whom were sent into the bush to hunt for the women and children. Of the other party, as I have said, only ten survived, and these were lying bound and helpless on the grass. Jack and Peterkin and I now looked at each other, and whispered our fears that the savages might clamber up the rocks to search for fresh water, and so discover our place of concealment; but we were so much interested in watching their movements that we agreed to remain where we were; and, indeed, we could not easily have risen without exposing ourselves to detection. One of the savages now went up to the wood and soon returned with a bundle of fire-wood, and we were not a little surprised to see him set fire to it by the very same means used by Jack the time we made our first fire,--namely, with the bow and drill. When the fire was kindled, two of the party went again to the woods and returned with one of the bound men. A dreadful feeling of horror crept over my heart, as the thought flashed upon me that they were going to burn their enemies. As they bore him to the fire my feelings almost overpowered me. I gasped for breath, and seizing my club, endeavoured to spring to my feet; but Jack's powerful arm pinned me to the earth. Next moment one of the savages raised his club, and fractured the wretched creature's skull. He must have died instantly, and, strange though it may seem, I confess to a feeling of relief when the deed was done, because I now knew that the poor savage could not be burned alive. Scarcely had his limbs ceased to quiver when the monsters cut slices of flesh from his body, and, after roasting them slightly over the fire, devoured them. Suddenly there arose a cry from the woods, and, in a few seconds, the two savages hastened towards the fire dragging the three women and their two infants along with them. One of those women was much younger than her companions, and we were struck with the modesty of her demeanour and the gentle expression of her face, which, although she had the flattish nose and thick lips of the others, was of a light-brown colour, and we conjectured that she must be of a different race. She and her companions wore short petticoats and a kind of tippet on their shoulders. Their hair was jet black, but instead of being long, was short and curly,--though not woolly--somewhat like the hair of a young boy. While we gazed with interest and some anxiety at these poor creatures, the big chief advanced to one of the elder females and laid his hand upon the child. But the mother shrank from him, and clasping the little one to her bosom, uttered a wail of fear. With a savage laugh, the chief tore the child from her arms and tossed it into the sea. A low groan burst from Jack's lips as we witnessed this atrocious act and heard the mother's shriek, as she fell insensible on the sand. The rippling waves rolled the child on the beach, as if they refused to be a party in such a foul murder, and we could observe that the little one still lived. The young girl was now brought forward, and the chief addressed her; but although we heard his voice, and even the words distinctly, of course we could not understand what he said. The girl made no answer to his fierce questions, and we saw by the way in which he pointed to the fire that he threatened her life. "Peterkin," said Jack in a hoarse whisper, "have you got your knife?" "Yes," replied Peterkin, whose face was pale as death. "That will do. Listen to me, and do my bidding quick. Here is the small knife, Ralph. Fly both of you through the bush, cut the cords that bind the prisoners and set them free. There! quick, ere it be too late." Jack sprang up, and seized a heavy but short bludgeon, while his strong frame trembled with emotion, and large drops rolled down his forehead. At this moment the man who had butchered the savage a few minutes before advanced towards the girl with his heavy club. Jack uttered a yell that rang like a death-shriek among the rocks. With one bound he leaped over a precipice full fifteen feet high, and, before the savages had recovered from their surprise, was in the midst of them; while Peterkin and I dashed through the bushes towards the prisoners. With one blow of his staff Jack felled the man with the club, then, turning round with a look of fury, he rushed upon the big chief with the yellow hair. Had the blow which Jack aimed at his head taken effect, the huge savage would have needed no second stroke; but he was agile as a cat, and avoided it by springing to one side, while, at the same time, he swung his ponderous club at the head of his foe. It was now Jack's turn to leap aside, and well was it for him that the first outburst of his blind fury was over, else he had become an easy prey to his gigantic antagonist; but Jack was cool now. He darted his blows rapidly and well, and the superiority of his light weapon was strikingly proved in this combat, for while he could easily evade the blows of the chief's heavy club, the chief could not so easily evade those of his light one. Nevertheless, so quick was he, and so frightfully did he fling about the mighty weapon, that, although Jack struck him almost every blow, the strokes had to be delivered so quickly that they wanted force to be very effectual. It was lucky for Jack that the other savages considered the success of their chief in this encounter to be so certain that they refrained from interfering. Had they doubted it, they would have probably ended the matter at once by felling him. But they contented themselves with awaiting the issue. The force which the chief expended in wielding his club now began to be apparent. His movements became slower, his breath hissed through his clenched teeth, and the surprised savages drew nearer in order to render assistance. Jack observed this movement. He felt that his fate was sealed, and resolved to cast his life upon the next blow. The chiefs club was again about to descend on his head. He might have evaded it easily, but instead of doing so, he suddenly shortened his grasp of his own club, rushed in under the blow, struck his adversary right between the eyes with all his force and fell to the earth, crushed beneath the senseless body of the chief. A dozen clubs flew high in air ready to descend on the head of Jack, but they hesitated a moment, for the massive body of the chief completely covered him. That moment saved his life. Ere the savages could tear the chief's body away, seven of their number fell prostrate beneath the clubs of the prisoners whom Peterkin and I had set free, and two others fell under our own hand. We could never have accomplished this had not our enemies been so engrossed with the fight between Jack and their chief that they had failed to observe us until we were upon them. They still out-numbered our party by three, but we were flushed with victory while they were taken by surprise and dispirited by the fall of their chief. Moreover, they were awe-struck by the sweeping fury of Jack, who seemed to have lost his senses altogether, and had no sooner shaken himself free of the chief's body than he rushed into the midst of them, and in three blows equalized our numbers. Peterkin and I flew to the rescue, the savages followed us, and, in less than ten minutes, the whole of our opponents were knocked down or made prisoners, bound hand and foot, and extended side by side upon the sea shore. CHAPTER XX. Intercourse with the savages--Cannibalism prevented--The slain are buried and the survivors depart, leaving us again alone on our Coral Island. After the battle was over, the savages crowded round us and gazed at us in surprise, while they continued to pour upon us a flood of questions, which, being wholly unintelligible, of course we could not answer. However, by way of putting an end to it, Jack took the chief (who had recovered from the effects of his wound) by the hand and shook it warmly. No sooner did the blacks see that this was meant to express good-will than they shook hands with us all round. After this ceremony was gone through Jack went up to the girl, who had never once moved from the rock where she had been left, but had continued an eager spectator of all that had passed. He made signs to her to follow him and then, taking the chief by the hand, was about to conduct him to the bower when his eye fell on the poor infant which had been thrown into the sea and was still lying on the shore. Dropping the chief's hand he hastened towards it, and, to his great joy, found it to be still alive. We also found that the mother was beginning to recover slowly. "Here, get out o' the way," said Jack, pushing us aside, as we stooped over the poor woman and endeavoured to restore her, "I'll soon bring her round." So saying, he placed the infant on her bosom and laid its warm cheek on hers. The effect was wonderful. The woman opened her eyes, felt the child, looked at it, and with a cry of joy clasped it in her arms, at the same time endeavouring to rise, for the purpose, apparently, of rushing into the woods. "There, that's all right," said Jack, once more taking the chief by the hand. "Now Ralph and Peterkin, make the women and these fellows follow me to the bower. Well entertain them as hospitably as we can." In a few minutes the savages were all seated on the ground in front of the bower making a hearty meal off a cold roast pig, several ducks, and a variety of cold fish, together with an unlimited supply of cocoa-nuts, bread-fruits, yams, taro, and plums; with all of which they seemed to be quite familiar and perfectly satisfied. Meanwhile, we three being thoroughly knocked up with our day's work, took a good draught of cocoa-nut lemonade, and throwing ourselves on our beds fell fast asleep. The savages it seems followed our example, and in half- an-hour the whole camp was buried in repose. How long we slept I cannot tell, but this I know, that when we lay down the sun was setting and when we awoke it was high in the heavens. I awoke Jack, who started up in surprise, being unable at first to comprehend our situation. "Now, then," said he, springing up, "let's see after breakfast. Hallo! Peterkin, lazy fellow, how long do you mean to lie there?" Peterkin yawned heavily. "Well!" said he, opening his eyes and looking up after some trouble, "if it isn't to-morrow morning, and me thinking it was to-day all this time. Hallo! Venus, where did you come from? you seem tolerably at home, any how. Bah! might as well speak to the cat as to you--better, in fact, for it understands me, and you don't." This remark was called forth by the sight of one of the elderly females, who had seated herself on the rock in front of the bower, and, having placed her child at her feet, was busily engaged in devouring the remains of a roast pig. By this time the natives outside were all astir, and breakfast in an advanced state of preparation. During the course of it we made sundry attempts to converse with the natives by signs, but without effect. At last we hit upon a plan of discovering their names. Jack pointed to his breast and said "Jack," very distinctly; then he pointed to Peterkin and to me, repeating our names at the same time. Then he pointed to himself again, and said "Jack," and laying his finger on the breast of the chief, looked inquiringly into his face. The chief instantly understood him and said "Tararo," twice, distinctly. Jack repeated it after him, and the chief, nodding his head approvingly, said "Chuck." On hearing which, Peterkin exploded with laughter; but Jack turned and with a frown rebuked him, saying, "I must look even more indignantly at you than I feel, Peterkin, you rascal, for these fellows don't like to be laughed at." Then turning towards the youngest of the women, who was seated at the door of the bower, he pointed to her; whereupon the chief said, "Avatea;" and pointing towards the sun, raised his finger slowly towards the zenith, where it remained steadily for a minute or two. "What can that mean, I wonder," said Jack, looking puzzled. "Perhaps," said Peterkin, "the chief means she is an angel come down to stay here for a while. If so, she's an uncommonly black one!" We did not feel quite satisfied with this explanation, so Jack went up to her and said, "Avatea." The woman smiled sadly, and nodded her head, at the same time pointing to her breast and then to the sun, in the same manner as the chief had done. We were much puzzled to know what this could signify, but as there was no way of solving our difficulty we were obliged to rest content. Jack now made signs to the natives to follow him, and, taking up his axe, he led them to the place where the battle had been fought. Here we found the prisoners, who had passed the night on the beach having been totally forgotten by us, as our minds had been full of our guests, and were ultimately overcome by sleep. They did not seem the worse for their exposure, however, as we judged by the hearty appetite with which they devoured the breakfast that was soon after given to them. Jack then began to dig a hole in the sand, and, after working a few seconds, he pointed to it and to the dead bodies that lay exposed on the beach. The natives immediately perceived what he wanted, and, running for their paddles, dug a hole in the course of half an hour that was quite large enough to contain all the bodies of the slain. When it was finished they tossed their dead enemies into it with so much indifference that we felt assured they would not have put themselves to this trouble had we not asked them to do so. The body of the yellow-haired chief was the last thrown in. This wretched man would have recovered from the blow with which Jack felled him, and, indeed, he did endeavour to rise during the melee that followed his fall, but one of his enemies, happening to notice the action, dealt him a blow with his club that killed him on the spot. While they were about to throw the sand over this chief, one of the savages stooped over him, and with a knife, made apparently of stone, cut a large slice of flesh from his thigh. We knew at once that he intended to make use of this for food, and could not repress a cry of horror and disgust. "Come, come, you blackguard," cried Jack, starting up and seizing the man by the arm, "pitch that into the hole. Do you hear?" The savage of course did not understand the command, but he perfectly understood the look of disgust with which Jack regarded the flesh, and his fierce gaze as he pointed towards the hole. Nevertheless he did not obey. Jack instantly turned to Tararo and made signs to him to enforce obedience. The chief seemed to understand the appeal, for he stepped forward, raised his club, and was on the point of dashing out the brains of his offending subject, when Jack sprang forward and caught his uplifted arm. "Stop!" he shouted, "you blockhead, I don't want you to kill the man." He then pointed again to the flesh and to the hole. The chief uttered a few words, which had the desired effect; for the man threw the flesh into the hole, which was immediately filled up. This man was of a morose, sulky disposition, and, during all the time he remained on the island, regarded us, especially Jack, with a scowling visage. His name, we found, was Mahine. The next three or four days were spent by the savages in mending their canoe, which had been damaged by the violent shock it had sustained on striking the shore. This canoe was a very curious structure. It was about thirty feet long, and had a high towering stern. The timbers, of which it was partly composed, were fastened much in the same way as those of our little boat were put together; but the part that seemed most curious to us was a sort of out-rigger, or long plank, which was attached to the body of the canoe by means of two stout cross beams. These beams kept the plank parallel with the canoe, but not in contact with it, for it floated in the water with an open space between; thus forming a sort of double canoe. This we found was intended to prevent the upsetting of the canoe, which was so narrow that it could not have maintained an upright position without the out-rigger. We could not help wondering both at the ingenuity and the clumsiness of this contrivance. When the canoe was ready, we assisted the natives to carry the prisoners into it, and helped them to load it with provisions and fruit. Peterkin also went to the plum-tree for the purpose of making a special onslaught upon the hogs, and killed no less than six of them. These we baked and presented to our friends on the day of their departure. On that day Tararo made a great many energetic signs to us, which, after much consideration, we came to understand were proposals that we should go away with him to his island; but, having no desire to do so, we shook our heads very decidedly. However, we consoled him by presenting him with our rusty axe, which we thought we could spare, having the excellent one which had been so providentially washed ashore to us the day we were wrecked. We also gave him a piece of wood with our names carved on it, and a piece of string to hang it round his neck as an ornament. In a few minutes more we were all assembled on the beach. Being unable to speak to the savages, we went through the ceremony of shaking hands, and expected they would depart; but, before doing so, Tararo went up to Jack and rubbed noses with him, after which he did the same with Peterkin and me! Seeing that this was their mode of salutation, we determined to conform to their custom, so we rubbed noses heartily with the whole party, women and all! The only disagreeable part of the process was, when we came to rub noses with Mahine, and Peterkin afterwards said, that when he saw his wolfish eyes glaring so close to his face, he felt much more inclined to _bang_ than to _rub_ his nose. Avatea was the last to take leave of us, and we experienced a feeling of real sorrow when she approached to bid us farewell. Besides her modest air and gentle manners she was the only one of the party who exhibited the smallest sign of regret at parting from us. Going up to Jack, she put out her flat little nose to be rubbed, and thereafter paid the same compliment to Peterkin and me. An hour later the canoe was out of sight, and we, with an indefinable feeling of sadness creeping round our hearts, were seated in silence beneath the shadow of our bower, meditating on the wonderful events of the last few days. CHAPTER XXI. Sagacious and moral remarks in regard to life--A sail!--An unexpected salute--The end of the black cat--A terrible dive--An incautious proceeding and a frightful catastrophe. Life is a strange compound. Peterkin used to say of it, that it beat a druggist's shop all to sticks; for, whereas the first is a compound of good and bad, the other is a horrible compound of all that is utterly detestable. And indeed the more I consider it the more I am struck with the strange mixture of good and evil that exists not only in the material earth but in our own natures. In our own Coral Island we had experienced every variety of good that a bountiful Creator could heap on us. Yet on the night of the storm we had seen how almost, in our case,--and altogether, no doubt, in the case of others less fortunate--all this good might be swept away for ever. We had seen the rich fruit-trees waving in the soft air, the tender herbs shooting upwards under the benign influence of the bright sun; and, the next day, we had seen these good and beautiful trees and plants uprooted by the hurricane, crushed and hurled to the ground in destructive devastation. We had lived for many months in a clime for the most part so beautiful, that we had often wondered whether Adam and Eve had found Eden more sweet; and we had seen the quiet solitudes of our paradise suddenly broken in upon by ferocious savages, and the white sands stained with blood and strewed with lifeless forms; yet, among these cannibals, we had seen many symptoms of a kindly nature. I pondered these things much, and, while I considered them, there recurred to my memory those words which I had read in my Bible,--the works of God are wonderful, and his ways past finding out. After these poor savages had left us, we used to hold long and frequent conversations about them, and I noticed that Peterkin's manner was now much altered. He did not, indeed, jest less heartily than before, but he did so less frequently, and often there was a tone of deep seriousness in his manner, if not in his words, which made him seem to Jack and me as if he had grown two years older within a few days. But indeed I was not surprised at this, when I reflected on the awful realities which we had witnessed so lately. We could by no means shake off a tendency to gloom for several weeks afterwards; but, as time wore away, our usual good spirits returned somewhat, and we began to think of the visit of the savages with feelings akin to those with which we recall a terrible dream. One day we were all enjoying ourselves in the Water Garden, preparatory to going on a fishing excursion; for Peterkin had kept us in such constant supply of hogs that we had become quite tired of pork, and desired a change. Peterkin was sunning himself on the ledge of rock, while we were creeping among the rocks below. Happening to look up, I observed Peterkin cutting the most extraordinary capers and making violent gesticulations for us to come up; so I gave Jack a push, and rose immediately. "A sail! a sail! Ralph, look! Jack, away on the horizon there, just over the entrance to the lagoon!" cried Peterkin, as we scrambled up the rocks. "So it is, and a schooner, too!" said Jack, as he proceeded hastily to dress. Our hearts were thrown into a terrible flutter by this discovery, for if it should touch at our island we had no doubt the captain would be happy to give us a passage to some of the civilized islands, where we could find a ship sailing for England, or some other part of Europe. Home, with all its associations, rushed in upon my heart like a flood, and, much though I loved the Coral Island and the bower which had now been our home so long, I felt that I could have quitted all at that moment without a sigh. With joyful anticipations we hastened to the highest point of rock near our dwelling, and awaited the arrival of the vessel, for we now perceived that she was making straight for the island, under a steady breeze. In less than an hour she was close to the reef, where she rounded to, and backed her topsails in order to survey the coast. Seeing this, and fearing that they might not perceive us, we all three waved pieces of cocoa-nut cloth in the air, and soon had the satisfaction of seeing them beginning to lower a boat and bustle about the decks as if they meant to land. Suddenly a flag was run up to the peak, a little cloud of white smoke rose from the schooner's side, and, before we could guess their intentions, a cannon-shot came crashing through the bushes, carried away several cocoa-nut trees in its passage, and burst in atoms against the cliff a few yards below the spot on which we stood. With feelings of terror we now observed that the flag at the schooner's peak was black, with a Death's head and cross bones upon it. As we gazed at each other in blank amazement, the word "pirate" escaped our lips simultaneously. "What is to be done?" cried Peterkin, as we observed a boat shoot from the vessel's side, and make for the entrance of the reef. "If they take us off the island, it will either be to throw us overboard for sport, or to make pirates of us." I did not reply, but looked at Jack, as being our only resource in this emergency. He stood with folded arms, and his eyes fixed with a grave, anxious expression on the ground. "There is but one hope," said he, turning with a sad expression of countenance to Peterkin; "perhaps, after all, we may not have to resort to it. If these villains are anxious to take us, they will soon overrun the whole island. But come, follow me." Stopping abruptly in his speech, Jack bounded into the woods, and led us by a circuitous route to Spouting Cliff. Here he halted, and, advancing cautiously to the rocks, glanced over their edge. We were soon by his side, and saw the boat, which was crowded with armed men, just touching the shore. In an instant the crew landed, formed line, and rushed up to our bower. In a few seconds we saw them hurrying back to the boat, one of them swinging the poor cat round his head by the tail. On reaching the water's edge, he tossed it far into the sea, and joined his companions, who appeared to be holding a hasty council. "You see what we may expect," said Jack bitterly. "The man who will wantonly kill a poor brute for sport will think little of murdering a fellow-creature. Now, boys, we have but one chance left,--the Diamond Cave." "The Diamond Cave!" cried Peterkin, "then my chance is a poor one, for I could not dive into it if all the pirates on the Pacific were at my heels." "Nay, but," said I, "we will take you down, Peterkin, if you will only trust us." As I spoke, we observed the pirates scatter over the beach, and radiate, as if from a centre, towards the woods and along shore. "Now, Peterkin," said Jack, in a solemn tone, "you must make up your mind to do it, or we must make up our minds to die in your company." "Oh, Jack, my dear friend," cried Peterkin, turning pale, "leave me; I don't believe they'll think it worth while to kill me. Go, you and Ralph, and dive into the cave." "That will not I," answered Jack quietly, while he picked up a stout cudgel from the ground. "So now, Ralph, we must prepare to meet these fellows. Their motto is, 'No quarter.' If we can manage to floor those coming in this direction, we may escape into the woods for a while." "There are five of them," said I; "we have no chance." "Come, then," cried Peterkin, starting up, and grasping Jack convulsively by the arm, "let us dive; I will go." Those who are not naturally expert in the water know well the feelings of horror that overwhelm them, when in it, at the bare idea of being held down, even for a few seconds,--that spasmodic, involuntary recoil from compulsory immersion which has no connection whatever with cowardice; and they will understand the amount of resolution that it required in Peterkin to allow himself to be dragged down to a depth of ten feet, and then, through a narrow tunnel, into an almost pitch-dark cavern. But there was no alternative. The pirates had already caught sight of us, and were now within a short distance of the rocks. Jack and I seized Peterkin by the arms. "Now, keep quite still, no struggling," said Jack, "or we are lost." Peterkin made no reply, but the stern gravity of his marble features, and the tension of his muscles, satisfied us that he had fully made up his mind to go through with it. Just as the pirates gained the foot of the rocks, which hid us for a moment from their view, we bent over the sea, and plunged down together head foremost. Peterkin behaved like a hero. He floated passively between us like a log of wood, and we passed the tunnel and rose into the cave in a shorter space of time than I had ever done it before. Peterkin drew a long, deep breath on reaching the surface; and in a few seconds we were all standing on the ledge of rock in safety. Jack now searched for the tinder and torch, which always lay in the cave. He soon found them, and, lighting the torch, revealed to Peterkin's wondering gaze the marvels of the place. But we were too wet to waste much time in looking about us. Our first care was to take off our clothes, and wring them as dry as we could. This done, we proceeded to examine into the state of our larder, for, as Jack truly remarked, there was no knowing how long the pirates might remain on the island. "Perhaps," said Peterkin, "they may take it into their heads to stop here altogether, and so we shall be buried alive in this place." "Don't you think, Peterkin, that it's the nearest thing to being drowned alive that you ever felt?" said Jack with a smile. "But I've no fear of that. These villains never stay long on shore. The sea is their home, so you may depend upon it that they won't stay more than a day or two at the furthest." We now began to make arrangements for spending the night in the cavern. At various periods Jack and I had conveyed cocoa nuts and other fruits, besides rolls of cocoa-nut cloth, to this submarine cave, partly for amusement, and partly from a feeling that we might possibly be driven one day to take shelter here from the savages. Little did we imagine that the first savages who would drive us into it would be white savages, perhaps our own countrymen. We found the cocoa-nuts in good condition, and the cooked yams, but the bread-fruits were spoiled. We also found the cloth where we had left it; and, on opening it out, there proved to be sufficient to make a bed; which was important, as the rock was damp. Having collected it all together, we spread out our bed, placed our torch in the midst of us, and ate our supper. It was indeed a strange chamber to feast in; and we could not help remarking on the cold, ghastly appearance of the walls, and the black water at our side, with the thick darkness beyond, and the sullen sound of the drops that fell at long intervals from the roof of the cavern into the still water; and the strong contrast between all this and our bed and supper, which, with our faces, were lit up with the deep red flame of the torch. We sat long over our meal, talking together in subdued voices, for we did not like the dismal echoes that rang through the vault above when we happened to raise them. At last the faint light that came through the opening died away, warning us that it was night and time for rest. We therefore put out our torch and lay down to sleep. On awaking, it was some time ere we could collect our faculties so as to remember where we were, and we were in much uncertainty as to whether it was early or late. We saw by the faint light that it was day, but could not guess at the hour; so Jack proposed that he should dive out and reconnoitre. "No, Jack," said I, "do you rest here. You've had enough to do during the last few days. Rest yourself now, and take care of Peterkin, while I go out to see what the pirates are about. I'll be very careful not to expose myself, and I'll bring you word again in a short time." "Very well, Ralph," answered Jack, "please yourself, but don't be long; and if you'll take my advice you'll go in your clothes, for I would like to have some fresh cocoa nuts, and climbing trees without clothes is uncomfortable, to say the least of it." "The pirates will be sure to keep a sharp lookout," said Peterkin, "so, pray, be careful." "No fear," said I; "good-bye." "Good-bye," answered my comrades. And while the words were yet sounding in my ears, I plunged into the water, and in a few seconds found myself in the open air. On rising, I was careful to come up gently and to breathe softly, while I kept close in beside the rocks; but, as I observed no one near me, I crept slowly out, and ascended the cliff a step at a time, till I obtained a full view of the shore. No pirates were to be seen,--even their boat was gone; but as it was possible they might have hidden themselves, I did not venture too boldly forward. Then it occurred to me to look out to sea, when, to my surprise, I saw the pirate schooner sailing away almost hull-down on the horizon! On seeing this I uttered a shout of joy. Then my first impulse was to dive back to tell my companions the good news; but I checked myself, and ran to the top of the cliff, in order to make sure that the vessel I saw was indeed the pirate schooner. I looked long and anxiously at her, and, giving vent to a deep sigh of relief, said aloud, "Yes, there she goes; the villains have been baulked of their prey this time at least." "Not so sure of that!" said a deep voice at my side; while, at the same moment, a heavy hand grasped my shoulder, and held it as if in a vice. CHAPTER XXII. I fall into the hands of pirates--How they treated me, and what I said to them--The result of the whole ending in a melancholy separation and in a most unexpected gift. My heart seemed to leap into my throat at the words; and, turning round, I beheld a man of immense stature, and fierce aspect regarding me with a smile of contempt. He was a white man,--that is to say, he was a man of European blood, though his face, from long exposure to the weather, was deeply bronzed. His dress was that of a common seaman, except that he had on a Greek skull-cap, and wore a broad shawl of the richest silk round his waist. In this shawl were placed two pair of pistols and a heavy cutlass. He wore a beard and moustache, which, like the locks on his head, were short, curly, and sprinkled with gray hairs. "So, youngster," he said, with a sardonic smile, while I felt his grasp tighten on my shoulder, "the villains have been baulked of their prey, have they? We shall see, we shall see. Now, you whelp, look yonder." As he spoke, the pirate uttered a shrill whistle. In a second or two it was answered, and the pirate-boat rowed round the point at the Water Garden, and came rapidly towards us. "Now, go, make a fire on that point; and hark'ee, youngster, if you try to run away, I'll send a quick and sure messenger after you," and he pointed significantly at his pistols. I obeyed in silence, and as I happened to have the burning-glass in my pocket, a fire was speedily kindled, and a thick smoke ascended into the air. It had scarcely appeared for two minutes when the boom of a gun rolled over the sea, and, looking up, I saw that the schooner was making for the island again. It now flashed across me that this was a ruse on the part of the pirates, and that they had sent their vessel away, knowing that it would lead us to suppose that they had left altogether. But there was no use of regret now. I was completely in their power, so I stood helplessly beside the pirate watching the crew of the boat as they landed on the beach. For an instant I contemplated rushing over the cliff into the sea, but this I saw I could not now accomplish, as some of the men were already between me and the water. There was a good deal of jesting at the success of their scheme, as the crew ascended the rocks and addressed the man who had captured me by the title of captain. They were a ferocious set of men, with shaggy beards and scowling brows. All of them were armed with cutlasses and pistols, and their costumes were, with trifling variations, similar to that of the captain. As I looked from one to the other, and observed the low, scowling brows, that never unbent, even when the men laughed, and the mean, rascally expression that sat on each face, I felt that my life hung by a hair. "But where are the other cubs?" cried one of the men, with an oath that made me shudder. "I'll swear to it there were three, at least, if not more." "You hear what he says, whelp; where are the other dogs?" said the captain. "If you mean my companions," said I, in a low voice, "I won't tell you." A loud laugh burst from the crew at this answer. The pirate captain looked at me in surprise. Then drawing a pistol from his belt, he cocked it and said, "Now, youngster, listen to me. I've no time to waste here. If you don't tell me all you know, I'll blow your brains out! Where are your comrades?" For an instant I hesitated, not knowing what to do in this extremity. Suddenly a thought occurred to me. "Villain," said I, shaking my clenched fist in his face, "to blow my brains out would make short work of me, and be soon over. Death by drowning is as sure, and the agony prolonged, yet, I tell you to your face, if you were to toss me over yonder cliff into the sea, I would not tell you where my companions are, and I dare you to try me!" The pirate captain grew white with rage as I spoke. "Say you so?" cried he, uttering a fierce oath. "Here, lads, take him by the legs and heave him in,--quick!" The men, who were utterly silenced with surprise at my audacity, advanced, and seized me, and, as they carried me towards the cliff, I congratulated myself not a little on the success of my scheme, for I knew that once in the water I should be safe, and could rejoin Jack and Peterkin in the cave. But my hopes were suddenly blasted by the captain crying out, "Hold on, lads, hold on. We'll give him a taste of the thumb- screws before throwing him to the sharks. Away with him into the boat. Look alive! the breeze is freshening." The men instantly raised me shoulder high, and, hurrying down the rocks, tossed me into the bottom of the boat, where I lay for some time stunned with the violence of my fall. On recovering sufficiently to raise myself on my elbow, I perceived that we were already outside the coral reef, and close alongside the schooner, which was of small size and clipper built. I had only time to observe this much, when I received a severe kick on the side from one of the men, who ordered me, in a rough voice, to jump aboard. Rising hastily I clambered up the side. In a few minutes the boat was hoisted on deck, the vessel's head put close to the wind, and the Coral Island dropped slowly astern as we beat up against a head sea. Immediately after coming aboard, the crew were too busily engaged in working the ship and getting in the boat to attend to me, so I remained leaning against the bulwarks close to the gangway, watching their operations. I was surprised to find that there were no guns or carronades of any kind in the vessel, which had more of the appearance of a fast-sailing trader than a pirate. But I was struck with the neatness of everything. The brass work of the binnacle and about the tiller, as well as the copper belaying-pins, were as brightly polished as if they had just come from the foundry. The decks were pure white, and smooth. The masts were clean-scraped and varnished, except at the cross-trees and truck, which were painted black. The standing and running rigging was in the most perfect order, and the sails white as snow. In short, everything, from the single narrow red stripe on her low black hull to the trucks on her tapering masts, evinced an amount of care and strict discipline that would have done credit to a ship of the Royal Navy. There was nothing lumbering or unseemly about the vessel, excepting, perhaps, a boat, which lay on the deck with its keel up between the fore and main masts. It seemed disproportionately large for the schooner; but, when I saw that the crew amounted to between thirty and forty men, I concluded that this boat was held in reserve, in case of any accident compelling the crew to desert the vessel. As I have before said, the costumes of the men were similar to that of the captain. But in head gear they differed not only from him but from each other, some wearing the ordinary straw hat of the merchant service, while others wore cloth caps and red worsted night-caps. I observed that all their arms were sent below; the captain only retaining his cutlass and a single pistol in the folds of his shawl. Although the captain was the tallest and most powerful man in the ship, he did not strikingly excel many of his men in this respect, and the only difference that an ordinary observer would have noticed was, a certain degree of open candour, straightforward daring, in the bold, ferocious expression of his face, which rendered him less repulsive than his low-browed associates, but did not by any means induce the belief that he was a hero. This look was, however, the indication of that spirit which gave him the pre-eminence among the crew of desperadoes who called him captain. He was a lion-like villain; totally devoid of personal fear, and utterly reckless of consequences, and, therefore, a terror to his men, who individually hated him, but unitedly felt it to be their advantage to have him at their head. But my thoughts soon reverted to the dear companions whom I had left on shore, and as I turned towards the Coral Island, which was now far away to leeward, I sighed deeply, and the tears rolled slowly down my cheeks as I thought that I might never see them more. "So you're blubbering, are you, you obstinate whelp?" said the deep voice of the captain, as he came up and gave me a box on the ear that nearly felled me to the deck. "I don't allow any such weakness aboard o' this ship. So clap a stopper on your eyes or I'll give you something to cry for." I flushed with indignation at this rough and cruel treatment, but felt that giving way to anger would only make matters worse, so I made no reply, but took out my handkerchief and dried my eyes. "I thought you were made of better stuff," continued the captain, angrily; "I'd rather have a mad bull-dog aboard than a water-eyed puppy. But I'll cure you, lad, or introduce you to the sharks before long. Now go below, and stay there till I call you." As I walked forward to obey, my eye fell on a small keg standing by the side of the main-mast, on which the word _gunpowder_ was written in pencil. It immediately flashed across me that, as we were beating up against the wind, anything floating in the sea would be driven on the reef encircling the Coral Island. I also recollected--for thought is more rapid than the lightning--that my old companions had a pistol. Without a moment's hesitation, therefore, I lifted the keg from the deck and tossed it into the sea! An exclamation of surprise burst from the captain and some of the men who witnessed this act of mine. Striding up to me, and uttering fearful imprecations, the captain raised his hand to strike me, while he shouted, "Boy! whelp! what mean you by that?" "If you lower your hand," said I, in a loud voice, while I felt the blood rush to my temples, "I'll tell you. Until you do so I'm dumb!" The captain stepped back and regarded me with a look of amazement. "Now," continued I, "I threw that keg into the sea because the wind and waves will carry it to my friends on the Coral Island, who happen to have a pistol, but no powder. I hope that it will reach them soon, and my only regret is that the keg was not a bigger one. Moreover, pirate, you said just now that you thought I was made of better stuff! I don't know what stuff I am made of,--I never thought much about that subject; but I'm quite certain of this, that I am made of such stuff as the like of you shall never tame, though you should do your worst." To my surprise the captain, instead of flying into a rage, smiled, and, thrusting his hand into the voluminous shawl that encircled his waist, turned on his heel and walked aft, while I went below. Here, instead of being rudely handled, as I had expected, the men received me with a shout of laughter, and one of them, patting me on the back, said, "Well done, lad! you're a brick, and I have no doubt will turn out a rare cove. Bloody Bill, there, was just such a fellow as you are, and he's now the biggest cut-throat of us all." "Take a can of beer, lad," cried another, "and wet your whistle after that speech o' your'n to the captain. If any one o' us had made it, youngster, he would have had no whistle to wet by this time." "Stop your clapper, Jack," vociferated a third; "give the boy a junck o' meat. Don't you see he's a'most goin' to kick the bucket?" "And no wonder," said the first speaker, with an oath, "after the tumble you gave him into the boat. I guess it would have broke _your_ neck if you had got it." I did indeed feel somewhat faint; which was owing, doubtless, to the combined effects of ill-usage and hunger; for it will be recollected that I had dived out of the cave that morning before breakfast, and it was now near mid-day. I therefore gladly accepted a plate of boiled pork and a yam, which were handed to me by one of the men from the locker on which some of the crew were seated eating their dinner. But I must add that the zest with which I ate my meal was much abated in consequence of the frightful oaths and the terrible language that flowed from the lips of these godless men, even in the midst of their hilarity and good-humour. The man who had been alluded to as Bloody Bill was seated near me, and I could not help wondering at the moody silence he maintained among his comrades. He did indeed reply to their questions in a careless, off-hand tone, but he never volunteered a remark. The only difference between him and the others was his taciturnity and his size, for he was nearly, if not quite, as large a man as the captain. During the remainder of the afternoon I was left to my own reflections, which were anything but agreeable, for I could not banish from my mind the threat about the thumb-screws, of the nature and use of which I had a vague but terrible conception. I was still meditating on my unhappy fate when, just after night-fall, one of the watch on deck called down the hatchway,-- "Hallo there! one o' you, tumble up and light the cabin lamp, and send that boy aft to the captain--sharp!" "Now then, do you hear, youngster? the captain wants you. Look alive," said Bloody Bill, raising his huge frame from the locker on which he had been asleep for the last two hours. He sprang up the ladder and I instantly followed him, and, going aft, was shown into the cabin by one of the men, who closed the door after me. A small silver lamp which hung from a beam threw a dim soft light over the cabin, which was a small apartment, and comfortably but plainly finished. Seated on a camp-stool at the table, and busily engaged in examining a chart of the Pacific, was the captain, who looked up as I entered, and, in a quiet voice, bade me be seated, while he threw down his pencil, and, rising from the table, stretched himself on a sofa at the upper end of the cabin. "Boy," said he, looking me full in the face, "what is your name?" "Ralph Rover," I replied. "Where did you come from, and how came you to be on that island? How many companions had you on it? Answer me, now, and mind you tell no lies." "I never tell lies," said I, firmly. The captain received this reply with a cold sarcastic smile, and bade me answer his questions. I then told him the history of myself and my companions from the time we sailed till the day of his visit to the island, taking care, however, to make no mention of the Diamond Cave. After I had concluded, he was silent for a few minutes; then, looking up, he said--"Boy, I believe you." I was surprised at this remark, for I could not imagine why he should not believe me. However, I made no reply. "And what," continued the captain, "makes you think that this schooner is a pirate?" "The black flag," said I, "showed me what you are; and if any further proof were wanting I have had it in the brutal treatment I have received at your hands." The captain frowned as I spoke, but subduing his anger he continued--"Boy, you are too bold. I admit that we treated you roughly, but that was because you made us lose time and gave us a good deal of trouble. As to the black flag, that is merely a joke that my fellows play off upon people sometimes in order to frighten them. It is their humour, and does no harm. I am no pirate, boy, but a lawful trader,--a rough one, I grant you, but one can't help that in these seas, where there are so many pirates on the water and such murderous blackguards on the land. I carry on a trade in sandal-wood with the Feejee Islands; and if you choose, Ralph, to behave yourself and be a good boy, I'll take you along with me and give you a good share of the profits. You see I'm in want of an honest boy like you, to look after the cabin and keep the log, and superintend the traffic on shore sometimes. What say you, Ralph, would you like to become a sandal-wood trader?" I was much surprised by this explanation, and a good deal relieved to find that the vessel, after all, was not a pirate; but instead of replying I said, "If it be as you state, then why did you take me from my island, and why do you not now take me back?" The captain smiled as he replied, "I took you off in anger, boy, and I'm sorry for it. I would even now take you back, but we are too far away from it. See, there it is," he added, laying his finger on the chart, "and we are now here,--fifty miles at least. It would not be fair to my men to put about now, for they have all an interest in the trade." I could make no reply to this; so, after a little more conversation, I agreed to become one of the crew, at least until we could reach some civilized island where I might be put ashore. The captain assented to this proposition, and after thanking him for the promise, I left the cabin and went on deck with feelings that ought to have been lighter, but which were, I could not tell why, marvellously heavy and uncomfortable still. CHAPTER XXIII. Bloody Bill--Dark surmises--A strange sail, and a strange crew, and a still stranger cargo--New reasons for favouring missionaries--A murderous massacre, and thoughts thereon. Three weeks after the conversation narrated in the last chapter, I was standing on the quarter-deck of the schooner watching the gambols of a shoal of porpoises that swam round us. It was a dead calm. One of those still, hot, sweltering days, so common in the Pacific, when Nature seems to have gone to sleep, and the only thing in water or in air that proves her still alive, is her long, deep breathing, in the swell of the mighty sea. No cloud floated in the deep blue above; no ripple broke the reflected blue below. The sun shone fiercely in the sky, and a ball of fire blazed, with almost equal power, from out the bosom of the water. So intensely still was it, and so perfectly transparent was the surface of the deep, that had it not been for the long swell already alluded to, we might have believed the surrounding universe to be a huge blue liquid ball, and our little ship the one solitary material speck in all creation, floating in the midst of it. No sound broke on our ears save the soft puff now and then of a porpoise, the slow creak of the masts, as we swayed gently on the swell, the patter of the reef-points, and the occasional flap of the hanging sails. An awning covered the fore and after parts of the schooner, under which the men composing the watch on deck lolled in sleepy indolence, overcome with excessive heat. Bloody Bill, as the men invariably called him, was standing at the tiller, but his post for the present was a sinecure, and he whiled away the time by alternately gazing in dreamy abstraction at the compass in the binnacle, and by walking to the taffrail in order to spit into the sea. In one of these turns he came near to where I was standing, and, leaning over the side, looked long and earnestly down into the blue wave. This man, although he was always taciturn and often surly, was the only human being on board with whom I had the slightest desire to become better acquainted. The other men, seeing that I did not relish their company, and knowing that I was a protege of the captain, treated me with total indifference. Bloody Bill, it is true, did the same; but as this was his conduct towards every one else, it was not peculiar in reference to me. Once or twice I tried to draw him into conversation, but he always turned away after a few cold monosyllables. As he now leaned over the taffrail close beside me, I said to him,-- "Bill, why is it that you are so gloomy? Why do you never speak to any one?" Bill smiled slightly as he replied, "Why, I s'pose it's because I haint got nothin' to say!" "That's strange," said I, musingly; "you look like a man that could think, and such men can usually speak." "So they can, youngster," rejoined Bill, somewhat sternly; "and I could speak too if I had a mind to, but what's the use o' speakin' here! The men only open their mouths to curse and swear, an' they seem to find it entertaining; but I don't, so I hold my tongue." "Well, Bill, that's true, and I would rather not hear you speak at all than hear you speak like the other men; but _I_ don't swear, Bill, so you might talk to me sometimes, I think. Besides, I'm weary of spending day after day in this way, without a single soul to say a pleasant word to. I've been used to friendly conversation, Bill, and I really would take it kind if you would talk with me a little now and then." Bill looked at me in surprise, and I thought I observed a sad expression pass across his sun-burnt face. "An' where have you been used to friendly conversation," said Bill, looking down again into the sea; "not on that Coral Island, I take it?" "Yes, indeed," said I energetically; "I have spent many of the happiest months in my life on that Coral Island;" and without waiting to be further questioned, I launched out into a glowing account of the happy life that Jack and Peterkin and I had spent together, and related minutely every circumstance that befell us while on the island. "Boy, boy," said Bill, in a voice so deep that it startled me, "this is no place for you." "That's true," said I; "I'm of little use on board, and I don't like my comrades; but I can't help it, and at anyrate I hope to be free again soon." "Free?" said Bill, looking at me in surprise. "Yes, free," returned I; "the captain said he would put me ashore after this trip was over." "_This trip_! Hark'ee, boy," said Bill, lowering his voice, "what said the captain to you the day you came aboard?" "He said that he was a trader in sandal-wood and no pirate, and told me that if I would join him for this trip he would give me a good share of the profits or put me on shore in some civilized island if I chose." Bill's brows lowered savagely as he muttered, "Ay, he said truth when he told you he was a sandal-wood trader, but he lied when--" "Sail ho!" shouted the look-out at the masthead. "Where, away?" cried Bill, springing to the tiller; while the men, startled by the sudden cry jumped up and gazed round the horizon. "On the starboard quarter, hull down, sir," answered the look-out. At this moment the captain came on deck, and mounting into the rigging, surveyed the sail through the glass. Then sweeping his eye round the horizon he gazed steadily at a particular point. "Take in top-sails," shouted the captain, swinging himself down on the deck by the main-back stay. "Take in top-sails," roared the first mate. "Ay, ay, sir-r-r," answered the men as they sprang into the rigging and went aloft like cats. Instantly all was bustle on board the hitherto quiet schooner. The top- sails were taken in and stowed, the men stood by the sheets and halyards, and the captain gazed anxiously at the breeze which was now rushing towards us like a sheet of dark blue. In a few seconds it struck us. The schooner trembled as if in surprise at the sudden onset, while she fell away, then bending gracefully to the wind, as though in acknowledgment of her subjection, she cut through the waves with her sharp prow like a dolphin, while Bill directed her course towards the strange sail. In half an hour we neared her sufficiently to make out that she was a schooner, and, from the clumsy appearance of her masts and sails we judged her to be a trader. She evidently did not like our appearance, for, the instant the breeze reached her, she crowded all sail and showed us her stern. As the breeze had moderated a little our top-sails were again shaken out, and it soon became evident,--despite the proverb, "A stern chase is a long one," that we doubled her speed and would overhaul her speedily. When within a mile we hoisted British colours, but receiving no acknowledgment, the captain ordered a shot to be fired across her bows. In a moment, to my surprise, a large portion of the bottom of the boat amidships was removed, and in the hole thus exposed appeared an immense brass gun. It worked on a swivel and was elevated by means of machinery. It was quickly loaded and fired. The heavy ball struck the water a few yards ahead of the chase, and, ricochetting into the air, plunged into the sea a mile beyond it. This produced the desired effect. The strange vessel backed her top-sails and hove-to, while we ranged up and lay-to, about a hundred yards off. "Lower the boat," cried the captain. In a second the boat was lowered and manned by a part of the crew, who were all armed with cutlasses and pistols. As the captain passed me to get into it, he said, "jump into the stern sheets, Ralph, I may want you." I obeyed, and in ten minutes more we were standing on the stranger's deck. We were all much surprised at the sight that met our eyes. Instead of a crew of such sailors as we were accustomed to see, there were only fifteen blacks standing on the quarter-deck and regarding us with looks of undisguised alarm. They were totally unarmed and most of them unclothed; one or two, however, wore portions of European attire. One had on a pair of duck trousers which were much too large for him and stuck out in a most ungainly manner. Another wore nothing but the common scanty native garment round the loins, and a black beaver hat. But the most ludicrous personage of all, and one who seemed to be chief, was a tall middle-aged man, of a mild, simple expression of countenance, who wore a white cotton shirt, a swallow-tailed coat, and a straw hat, while his black brawny legs were totally uncovered below the knees. "Where's the commander of this ship?" inquired our captain, stepping up to this individual. "I is capin," he answered, taking off his straw hat and making a low bow. "You!" said our captain, in surprise. "Where do you come from, and where are you bound? What cargo have you aboard?" "We is come," answered the man with the swallow-tail, "from Aitutaki; we was go for Rarotonga. We is native miss'nary ship; our name is de _Olive Branch_; an' our cargo is two tons cocoa-nuts, seventy pigs, twenty cats, and de Gosp'l." This announcement was received by the crew of our vessel with a shout of laughter, which, however, was peremptorily checked by the captain, whose expression instantly changed from one of severity to that of frank urbanity as he advanced towards the missionary and shook him warmly by the hand. "I am very glad to have fallen in with you," said he, "and I wish you much success in your missionary labours. Pray take me to your cabin, as I wish to converse with you privately." The missionary immediately took him by the hand, and as he led him away I heard him saying, "Me most glad to find you trader; we t'ought you be pirate. You very like one 'bout the masts." What conversation the captain had with this man I never heard, but he came on deck again in a quarter of an hour, and, shaking hands cordially with the missionary, ordered us into our boat and returned to the schooner, which was immediately put before the wind. In a few minutes the _Olive Branch_ was left far behind us. That afternoon, as I was down below at dinner, I heard the men talking about this curious ship. "I wonder," said one, "why our captain looked so sweet on yon swallow- tailed super-cargo o' pigs and Gospels. If it had been an ordinary trader, now, he would have taken as many o' the pigs as he required and sent the ship with all on board to the bottom." "Why, Dick, you must be new to these seas if you don't know that," cried another. "The captain cares as much for the gospel as you do (an' that's precious little), but he knows, and everybody knows, that the only place among the southern islands where a ship can put in and get what she wants in comfort, is where the gospel has been sent to. There are hundreds o' islands, at this blessed moment, where you might as well jump straight into a shark's maw as land without a band o' thirty comrades armed to the teeth to back you." "Ay," said a man with a deep scar over his right eye, "Dick's new to the work. But if the captain takes us for a cargo o' sandal-wood to the Feejees he'll get a taste o' these black gentry in their native condition. For my part I don't know, an' I don't care, what the gospel does to them; but I know that when any o' the islands chance to get it, trade goes all smooth an' easy; but where they ha'nt got it, Beelzebub himself could hardly desire better company." "Well, you ought to be a good judge," cried another, laughing, "for you've never kept any company but the worst all your life!" "Ralph Rover!" shouted a voice down the hatchway. "Captain wants you, aft." Springing up the ladder I hastened to the cabin, pondering as I went the strange testimony borne by these men to the effect of the gospel on savage natures;--testimony which, as it was perfectly disinterested, I had no doubt whatever was strictly true. On coming again on deck I found Bloody Bill at the helm, and as we were alone together I tried to draw him into conversation. After repeating to him the conversation in the forecastle about the missionaries, I said,-- "Tell me, Bill, is this schooner really a trader in sandal-wood?" "Yes, Ralph, she is; but she's just as really a pirate. The black flag you saw flying at the peak was no deception." "Then how can you say she's a trader?" asked I. "Why, as to that, she trades when she can't take by force, but she takes by force, when she can, in preference. Ralph," he added, lowering his voice, "if you had seen the bloody deeds that I have witnessed done on these decks you would not need to ask if we were pirates. But you'll find it out soon enough. As for the missionaries, the captain favours them because they are useful to him. The South-Sea islanders are such incarnate fiends that they are the better of being tamed, and the missionaries are the only men who can do it." Our track after this lay through several clusters of small islets, among which we were becalmed more than once. During this part of our voyage the watch on deck and the look-out at the mast-head were more than usually vigilant, as we were not only in danger of being attacked by the natives, who, I learned from the captain's remarks, were a bloody and deceitful tribe at this group, but we were also exposed to much risk from the multitudes of coral reefs that rose up in the channels between the islands, some of them just above the surface, others a few feet below it. Our precautions against the savages I found were indeed necessary. One day we were becalmed among a group of small islands, most of which appeared to be uninhabited. As we were in want of fresh water the captain sent the boat ashore to bring off a cask or two. But we were mistaken in thinking there were no natives; for scarcely had we drawn near to the shore when a band of naked blacks rushed out of the bush and assembled on the beach, brandishing their clubs and spears in a threatening manner. Our men were well armed, but refrained from showing any signs of hostility, and rowed nearer in order to converse with the natives; and I now found that more than one of the crew could imperfectly speak dialects of the language peculiar to the South Sea islanders. When within forty yards of the shore, we ceased rowing, and the first mate stood up to address the multitude; but, instead of answering us, they replied with a shower of stones, some of which cut the men severely. Instantly our muskets were levelled, and a volley was about to be fired, when the captain hailed us in a loud voice from the schooner, which lay not more than five or six hundred yards off the shore. "Don't fire," he shouted, angrily. "Pull off to the point ahead of you." The men looked surprised at this order, and uttered deep curses as they prepared to obey, for their wrath was roused and they burned for revenge. Three or four of them hesitated, and seemed disposed to mutiny. "Don't distress yourselves, lads," said the mate, while a bitter smile curled his lip. "Obey orders. The captain's not the man to take an insult tamely. If Long Tom does not speak presently I'll give myself to the sharks." The men smiled significantly as they pulled from the shore, which was now crowded with a dense mass of savages, amounting, probably, to five or six hundred. We had not rowed off above a couple of hundred yards when a loud roar thundered over the sea, and the big brass gun sent a withering shower of grape point blank into the midst of the living mass, through which a wide lane was cut, while a yell, the like of which I could not have imagined, burst from the miserable survivors as they fled to the woods. Amongst the heaps of dead that lay on the sand, just where they had fallen, I could distinguish mutilated forms writhing in agony, while ever and anon one and another rose convulsively from out the mass, endeavoured to stagger towards the wood, and ere they had taken a few steps, fell and wallowed on the bloody sand. My blood curdled within me as I witnessed this frightful and wanton slaughter; but I had little time to think, for the captain's deep voice came again over the water towards us: "Pull ashore, lads, and fill your water casks." The men obeyed in silence, and it seemed to me as if even their hard hearts were shocked by the ruthless deed. On gaining the mouth of the rivulet at which we intended to take in water, we found it flowing with blood, for the greater part of those who were slain had been standing on the banks of the stream, a short way above its mouth. Many of the wretched creatures had fallen into it, and we found one body, which had been carried down, jammed between two rocks, with the staring eyeballs turned towards us and his black hair waving in the ripples of the blood-red stream. No one dared to oppose our landing now, so we carried our casks to a pool above the murdered group, and having filled them, returned on board. Fortunately a breeze sprang up soon afterwards and carried us away from the dreadful spot; but it could not waft me away from the memory of what I had seen. "And this," thought I, gazing in horror at the captain, who, with a quiet look of indifference, leaned upon the taffrail smoking a cigar and contemplating the fertile green islets as they passed like a lovely picture before our eyes--"this is the man who favours the missionaries because they are useful to him and can tame the savages better than any one else can do it!" Then I wondered in my mind whether it were possible for any missionary to tame _him_! CHAPTER XXIV. Bloody Bill is communicative and sagacious--Unpleasant prospects--Retrospective meditations interrupted by volcanic agency--The pirates negotiate with a Feejee chief--Various etceteras that are calculated to surprise and horrify. It was many days after the events just narrated ere I recovered a little of my wonted spirits. I could not shake off the feeling for a long time that I was in a frightful dream, and the sight of our captain filled me with so much horror that I kept out of his way as much as my duties about the cabin would permit. Fortunately he took so little notice of me that he did not observe my changed feelings towards him, otherwise it might have been worse for me. But I was now resolved that I would run away the very first island we should land at, and commit myself to the hospitality of the natives rather than remain an hour longer than I could help in the pirate schooner. I pondered this subject a good deal, and at last made up my mind to communicate my intention to Bloody Bill; for, during several talks I had had with him of late, I felt assured that he too would willingly escape if possible. When I told him of my design he shook his head. "No, no, Ralph," said he, "you must not think of running away here. Among some of the groups of islands you might do so with safety, but if you tried it here you would find that you had jumped out of the fryin' pan into the fire." "How so, Bill?" said I, "would the natives not receive me?" "That they would, lad; but they would eat you too." "Eat me!" said I in surprise, "I thought the South Sea islanders never ate anybody except their enemies." "Humph!" ejaculated Bill. "I s'pose 'twas yer tender-hearted friends in England that put that notion into your head. There's a set o' soft-hearted folk at home that I knows on, who don't like to have their feelin's ruffled, and when you tell them anything they don't like--that shocks them, as they call it--no matter how true it be, they stop their ears and cry out, 'Oh, that is _too_ horrible! We can't believe that!' An' they say truth. They can't believe it 'cause they won't believe it. Now, I believe there's thousands o' the people in England who are sich born drivellin' _won't-believers_ that they think the black fellows hereaway, at the worst, eat an enemy only now an' then, out o' spite; whereas, I know for certain, and many captains of the British and American navies know as well as me, that the Feejee islanders eat not only their enemies but one another; and they do it not for spite, but for pleasure. It's a _fact_ that they prefer human flesh to any other. But they don't like white men's flesh so well as black. They say it makes them sick." "Why, Bill," said I, "you told me just now that they would eat _me_ if they caught me." "So I did; and so I think they would. I've only heard some o' them say they don't like white men _so well_ as black; but if they was hungry they wouldn't be particular. Anyhow, I'm sure they would kill you. You see, Ralph, I've been a good while in them parts, and I've visited the different groups of islands oftentimes as a trader. And thorough goin' blackguards some o' them traders are. No better than pirates, I can tell you. One captain that I sailed with was not a chip better than the one we're with now. He was tradin' with a friendly chief one day, aboard his vessel. The chief had swam off to us with the things for trade tied a- top of his head, for them chaps are like otters in the water. Well, the chief was hard on the captain, and would not part with some o' his things. When their bargainin' was over they shook hands, and the chief jumped over board to swim ashore; but before he got forty yards from the ship the captain seized a musket and shot him dead. He then hove up anchor and put to sea, and as we sailed along shore, he dropped six black- fellows with his rifle, remarkin' that 'that would spoil the trade for the next comers.' But, as I was sayin', I'm up to the ways o' these fellows. One o' the laws o' the country is, that every shipwrecked person who happens to be cast ashore, be he dead or alive, is doomed to be roasted and eaten. There was a small tradin' schooner wrecked off one of these islands when we were lyin' there in harbour during a storm. The crew was lost, all but three men, who swam ashore. The moment they landed they were seized by the natives and carried up into the woods. We knew pretty well what their fate would be, but we could not help them, for our crew was small, and if we had gone ashore they would likely have killed us all. We never saw the three men again; but we heard frightful yelling, and dancing, and merry-making that night; and one of the natives, who came aboard to trade with us next day, told us that the _long pigs_, as he called the men, had been roasted and eaten, and their bones were to be converted into sail needles. He also said that white men were bad to eat, and that most o' the people on shore were sick." I was very much shocked and cast down in my mind at this terrible account of the natives, and asked Bill what he would advise me to do. Looking round the deck to make sure that we were not overheard, he lowered his voice and said, "There are two or three ways that we might escape, Ralph, but none o' them's easy. If the captain would only sail for some o' the islands near Tahiti, we might run away there well enough, because the natives are all Christians; an' we find that wherever the savages take up with Christianity they always give over their bloody ways, and are safe to be trusted. I never cared for Christianity myself," he continued, in a soliloquising voice, "and I don't well know what it means; but a man with half an eye can see what it does for these black critters. However, the captain always keeps a sharp look out after us when we get to these islands, for he half suspects that one or two o' us are tired of his company. Then, we might manage to cut the boat adrift some fine night when it's our watch on deck, and clear off before they discovered that we were gone. But we would run the risk o' bein' caught by the blacks. I wouldn't like to try that plan. But you and I will think over it, Ralph, and see what's to be done. In the meantime it's our watch below, so I'll go and turn in." Bill then bade me good night, and went below, while a comrade took his place at the helm; but, feeling no desire to enter into conversation with him, I walked aft, and, leaning over the stern, looked down into the phosphorescent waves that gargled around the ladder, and streamed out like a flame of blue light in the vessel's wake. My thoughts were very sad, and I could scarce refrain from tears as I contrasted my present wretched position with the happy, peaceful time, I had spent on the Coral Island with my dear companions. As I thought upon Jack and Peterkin anxious forebodings crossed my mind, and I pictured to myself the grief and dismay with which they would search every nook and corner of the island, in a vain attempt to discover my dead body; for I felt assured that if they did not see any sign of the pirate schooner or boat, when they came out of the cave to look for me, they would never imagine that I had been carried away. I wondered, too, how Jack would succeed in getting Peterkin out of the cave without my assistance; and I trembled when I thought that he might lose presence of mind, and begin to kick when he was in the tunnel! These thoughts were suddenly interrupted and put to flight by a bright red blaze which lighted up the horizon to the southward, and cut a crimson glow far over the sea. This appearance was accompanied by a low growling sound, as of distant thunder, and, at the same time, the sky above us became black, while a hot stifling wind blew around us in fitful gusts. The crew assembled hastily on deck, and most of them were under the belief that a frightful hurricane was pending; but the captain coming on deck, soon explained the phenomena. "It's only a volcano," said he. "I knew there was one hereabouts, but thought it was extinct. Up there and furl top-gallant-sails; we'll likely have a breeze, and it's well to be ready." As he spoke, a shower began to fall, which we quickly observed was not rain, but fine ashes. As we were many miles distant from the volcano, these must have been carried to us from it by the wind. As the captain had predicted, a stiff breeze soon afterwards sprang up, under the influence of which we speedily left the volcano far behind us; but during the greater part of the night we could see its lurid glare and hear its distant thunder. The shower did not cease to fall for several hours, and we must have sailed under it for nearly forty miles, perhaps farther. When we emerged from the cloud, our decks and every part of the rigging were completely covered with a thick coat of ashes. I was much interested in this, and recollected that Jack had often spoken of many of the islands of the Pacific as being volcanoes, either active or extinct, and had said that the whole region was more or less volcanic, and that some scientific men were of opinion that the islands of the Pacific were nothing more or less than the mountain tops of a huge continent which had sunk under the influence of volcanic agency. Three days after passing the volcano, we found ourselves a few miles to windward of an island of considerable size and luxuriant aspect. It consisted of two mountains, which seemed to be nearly four thousand feet high. They were separated from each other by a broad valley, whose thick- growing trees ascended a considerable distance up the mountain sides; and rich level plains, or meadow-land, spread round the base of the mountains, except at the point immediately opposite the large valley, where a river seemed to carry the trees, as it were, along with it down to the white sandy shore. The mountain tops, unlike those of our Coral Island, were sharp, needle-shaped, and bare, while their sides were more rugged and grand in outline than anything I had yet seen in those seas. Bloody Bill was beside me when the island first hove in sight. "Ha!" he exclaimed, "I know that island well. They call it Emo." "Have you been here before, then?" I inquired. "Ay, that I have, often, and so has this schooner. 'Tis a famous island for sandal-wood. We have taken many cargoes off it already, and have paid for them too; for the savages are so numerous that we dared not try to take it by force. But our captain has tried to cheat them so often, that they're beginnin' not to like us overmuch now. Besides, the men behaved ill the last time we were here; and I wonder the captain is not afraid to venture. But he's afraid o' nothing earthly, I believe." We soon ran inside the barrier coral-reef, and let go our anchor in six fathoms water, just opposite the mouth of a small creek, whose shores were densely covered with mangroves and tall umbrageous trees. The principal village of the natives lay about half a mile from this point. Ordering the boat out, the captain jumped into it, and ordered me to follow him. The men, fifteen in number, were well armed; and the mate was directed to have Long Tom ready for emergencies. "Give way, lads," cried the captain. The oars fell into the water at the word, the boat shot from the schooner's side, and in a few minutes reached the shore. Here, contrary to our expectation, we were met with the utmost cordiality by Romata, the principal chief of the island, who conducted us to his house, and gave us mats to sit upon. I observed in passing that the natives, of whom there were two or three thousand, were totally unarmed. After a short preliminary palaver, a feast of baked pigs and various roots was spread before us; of which we partook sparingly, and then proceeded to business. The captain stated his object in visiting the island, regretted that there had been a slight misunderstanding during the last visit, and hoped that no ill-will was borne by either party, and that a satisfactory trade would be accomplished. Romata answered that he had forgotten there had been any differences between them, protested that he was delighted to see his friends again, and assured them they should have every assistance in cutting and embarking the wood. The terms were afterwards agreed on, and we rose to depart. All this conversation was afterwards explained to me by Bill, who understood the language pretty well. Romata accompanied us on board, and explained that a great chief from another island was then on a visit to him, and that he was to be ceremoniously entertained on the following day. After begging to be allowed to introduce him to us, and receiving permission, he sent his canoe ashore to bring him off. At the same time he gave orders to bring on board his two favourites, a cock and a paroquet. While the canoe was gone on this errand, I had time to regard the savage chief attentively. He was a man of immense size, with massive but beautifully moulded limbs and figure, only parts of which, the broad chest and muscular arms, were uncovered; for, although the lower orders generally wore no other clothing than a strip of cloth called _maro_ round their loins, the chief, on particular occasions, wrapped his person in voluminous folds of a species of native cloth made from the bark of the Chinese paper-mulberry. Romata wore a magnificent black beard and moustache, and his hair was frizzed out to such an extent that it resembled a large turban, in which was stuck a long wooden pin! I afterwards found that this pin served for scratching the head, for which purpose the fingers were too short without disarranging the hair. But Romata put himself to much greater inconvenience on account of his hair, for we found that he slept with his head resting on a wooden pillow, in which was cut a hollow for the neck, so that the hair of the sleeper might not be disarranged. In ten minutes the canoe returned, bringing the other chief, who certainly presented a most extraordinary appearance, having painted one half of his face red and the other half yellow, besides ornamenting it with various designs in black! Otherwise he was much the same in appearance as Romata, though not so powerfully built. As this chief had never seen a ship before, except, perchance, some of the petty traders that at long intervals visit these remote islands, he was much taken up with the neatness and beauty of all the fittings of the schooner. He was particularly struck with a musket which was shown to him, and asked where the white men got hatchets hard enough to cut the tree of which the barrel was made! While he was thus engaged, his brother chief stood aloof, talking with the captain, and fondling a superb cock and a little blue-headed paroquet, the favourites of which I have before spoken. I observed that all the other natives walked in a crouching posture while in the presence of Romata. Before our guests left us, the captain ordered the brass gun to be uncovered and fired for their gratification; and I have every reason to believe he did so for the purpose of showing our superior power, in case the natives should harbour any evil designs against us. Romata had never seen this gun before, as it had not been uncovered on previous visits, and the astonishment with which he viewed it was very amusing. Being desirous of knowing its power, he begged that the captain would fire it. So a shot was put into it. The chiefs were then directed to look at a rock about two miles out at sea, and the gun was fired. In a second the top of the rock was seen to burst asunder, and to fall in fragments into the sea. Romata was so delighted with the success of this shot, that he pointed to a man who was walking on the shore, and begged the captain to fire at him, evidently supposing that his permission was quite sufficient to justify the captain in such an act. He was therefore surprised, and not a little annoyed, when the captain refused to fire at the native, and ordered the gun to be housed. Of all the things, however, that afforded matter of amusement to these savages, that which pleased Romata's visitor most was the ship's pump. He never tired of examining it, and pumping up the water. Indeed, so much was he taken up with this pump, that he could not be prevailed on to return on shore, but sent a canoe to fetch his favourite stool, on which he seated himself, and spent the remainder of the day in pumping the bilge-water out of the ship! Next day the crew went ashore to cut sandal-wood, while the captain, with one or two men, remained on board, in order to be ready, if need be, with the brass gun, which was unhoused and conspicuously elevated, with its capacious muzzle directed point blank at the chief's house. The men were fully armed as usual; and the captain ordered me to go with them, to assist in the work. I was much pleased with this order, for it freed me from the captain's company, which I could not now endure, and it gave me an opportunity of seeing the natives. As we wound along in single file through the rich fragrant groves of banana, cocoa-nut, bread-fruit, and other trees, I observed that there were many of the plum and banian trees, with which I had become familiar on the Coral Island. I noticed also large quantities of taro-roots, yams, and sweet potatoes, growing in enclosures. On turning into an open glade of the woods, we came abruptly upon a cluster of native houses. They were built chiefly of bamboos, and were thatched with the large thick leaves of the pandanus; but many of them had little more than a sloping roof and three sides with an open front, being the most simple shelter from the weather that could well be imagined. Within these, and around them, were groups of natives--men, women, and children--who all stood up to gaze at us as we marched along, followed by the party of men whom the chief had sent to escort us. About half a mile inland we arrived at the spot where the sandal-wood grew, and, while the men set to work, I clambered up an adjoining hill to observe the country. About mid-day, the chief arrived with several followers, one of whom carried a baked pig on a wooden platter, with yams and potatoes on several plantain leaves, which he presented to the men, who sat down under the shade of a tree to dine. The chief sat down to dine also; but, to my surprise, instead of feeding himself, one of his wives performed that office for him! I was seated beside Bill, and asked him the reason of this. "It is beneath his dignity, I believe, to feed himself," answered Bill; "but I daresay he's not particular, except on great occasions. They've a strange custom among them, Ralph, which is called _tabu_, and they carry it to great lengths. If a man chooses a particular tree for his god, the fruit o' that tree is tabued to him; and if he eats it, he is sure to be killed by his people, and eaten, of course, for killing means eating hereaway. Then, you see that great mop o' hair on the chief's head? Well, he has a lot o' barbers to keep it in order; and it's a law that whoever touches the head of a living chief or the body of a dead one, his hands are tabued; so, in that way, the barbers' hands are always tabued, and they daren't use them for their lives, but have to be fed like big babies, as they are, sure enough!" "That's odd, Bill. But look there," said I, pointing to a man whose skin was of a much lighter colour than the generality of the natives. "I've seen a few of these light-skinned fellows among the Fejeeans. They seem to me to be of quite a different race." "So they are," answered Bill. "These fellows come from the Tongan Islands, which lie a long way to the eastward. They come here to build their big war-canoes; and as these take two, and sometimes four years, to build, there's always some o' the brown-skins among the black sarpents o' these islands." "By the way, Bill," said I, "your mentioning serpents, reminds me that I have not seen a reptile of any kind since I came to this part of the world." "No more there are any," said Bill, "if ye except the niggers themselves, there's none on the islands, but a lizard or two and some sich harmless things. But I never seed any myself. If there's none on the land, however, there's more than enough in the water, and that minds me of a wonderful brute they have here. But, come, I'll show it to you." So saying, Bill arose, and, leaving the men still busy with the baked pig, led me into the forest. After proceeding a short distance we came upon a small pond of stagnant water. A native lad had followed us, to whom we called and beckoned him to come to us. On Bill saying a few words to him, which I did not understand, the boy advanced to the edge of the pond, and gave a low peculiar whistle. Immediately the water became agitated and an enormous eel thrust its head above the surface and allowed the youth to touch it. It was about twelve feet long, and as thick round the body as a man's thigh. "There," said Bill, his lip curling with contempt, "what do you think of that for a god, Ralph? This is one o' their gods, and it has been fed with dozens o' livin' babies already. How many more it'll get afore it dies is hard to say." "Babies?" said I, with an incredulous look "Ay, babies," returned Bill. "Your soft-hearted folk at home would say, 'Oh, horrible! impossible!' to that, and then go away as comfortable and unconcerned as if their sayin' 'horrible! impossible!' had made it a lie. But I tell you, Ralph, it's a _fact_. I've seed it with my own eyes the last time I was here, an' mayhap if you stop a while at this accursed place, and keep a sharp look out, you'll see it too. They don't feed it regularly with livin' babies, but they give it one now and then as a treat. Bah! you brute!' cried Bill, in disgust, giving the reptile a kick on the snout with his heavy boot, that sent it sweltering back in agony into its loathsome pool. I thought it lucky for Bill, indeed for all of us, that the native youth's back happened to be turned at the time, for I am certain that if the poor savages had come to know that we had so rudely handled their god, we should have had to fight our way back to the ship. As we retraced our steps I questioned my companion further on this subject. "How comes it, Bill, that the mothers allow such a dreadful thing to be done?" "Allow it? the mothers _do_ it! It seems to me that there's nothing too fiendish or diabolical for these people to do. Why, in some of the islands they have an institution called the _Areoi_, and the persons connected with that body are ready for any wickedness that mortal man can devise. In fact they stick at nothing; and one o' their customs is to murder their infants the moment they are born. The mothers agree to it, and the fathers do it. And the mildest ways they have of murdering them is by sticking them through the body with sharp splinters of bamboo, strangling them with their thumbs, or burying them alive and stamping them to death while under the sod." I felt sick at heart while my companion recited these horrors. "But it's a curious fact," he continued, after a pause, during which we walked in silence towards the spot where we had left our comrades,--"it's a curious fact, that wherever the missionaries get a footin' all these things come to an end at once, an' the savages take to doin' each other good, and singin' psalms, just like Methodists." "God bless the missionaries!" said I, while a feeling of enthusiasm filled my heart, so that I could speak with difficulty. "God bless and prosper the missionaries till they get a footing in every island of the sea!" "I would say Amen to that prayer, Ralph, if I could," said Bill, in a deep, sad voice; "but it would be a mere mockery for a man to ask a blessing for others who dare not ask one for himself. But, Ralph," he continued, "I've not told you half o' the abominations I have seen durin' my life in these seas. If we pull long together, lad, I'll tell you more; and if times have not changed very much since I was here last, it's like that you'll have a chance o' seeing a little for yourself before long." CHAPTER XXV. The Sandal-wood party--Native children's games, somewhat surprising--Desperate amusements suddenly and fatally brought to a close--An old friend recognised--News--Romata's mad conduct. Next day the wood-cutting party went ashore again, and I accompanied them as before. During the dinner hour I wandered into the woods alone, being disinclined for food that day. I had not rambled far when I found myself unexpectedly on the sea-shore, having crossed a narrow neck of land which separated the native village from a large bay. Here I found a party of the islanders busy with one of their war-canoes, which was almost ready for launching. I stood for a long time watching this party with great interest, and observed that they fastened the timbers and planks to each other very much in the same way in which I had seen Jack fasten those of our little boat. But what surprised me most was its immense length, which I measured very carefully, and found to be a hundred feet long; and it was so capacious that it could have held three hundred men. It had the unwieldy out-rigger and enormously high stern-posts which I had remarked on the canoe that came to us while I was on the Coral Island. Observing some boys playing at games a short way along the beach, I resolved to go and watch them; but as I turned from the natives who were engaged so busily and cheerfully at their work, I little thought of the terrible event that hung on the completion of that war-canoe. Advancing towards the children, who were so numerous that I began to think this must be the general play-ground of the village, I sat down on a grassy bank under the shade of a plantain-tree, to watch them. And a happier or more noisy crew I have never seen. There were at least two hundred of them, both boys and girls, all of whom were clad in no other garments than their own glossy little black skins, except the maro, or strip of cloth round the loins of the boys, and a very short petticoat or kilt on the girls. They did not all play at the same game, but amused themselves in different groups. One band was busily engaged in a game exactly similar to our blind-man's- buff. Another set were walking on stilts, which raised the children three feet from the ground. They were very expert at this amusement and seldom tumbled. In another place I observed a group of girls standing together, and apparently enjoying themselves very much; so I went up to see what they were doing, and found that they were opening their eye-lids with their fingers till their eyes appeared of an enormous size, and then thrusting pieces of straw between the upper and lower lids, across the eye-ball, to keep them in that position! This seemed to me, I must confess, a very foolish as well as dangerous amusement. Nevertheless the children seemed to be greatly delighted with the hideous faces they made. I pondered this subject a good deal, and thought that if little children knew how silly they seem to grown-up people when they make faces, they would not be so fond of doing it. In another place were a number of boys engaged in flying kites, and I could not help wondering that some of the games of those little savages should be so like to our own, although they had never seen us at play. But the kites were different from ours in many respects, being of every variety of shape. They were made of very thin cloth, and the boys raised them to a wonderful height in the air by means of twine made from the cocoa-nut husk. Other games there were, some of which showed the natural depravity of the hearts of these poor savages, and made me wish fervently that missionaries might be sent out to them. But the amusement which the greatest number of the children of both sexes seemed to take chief delight in, was swimming and diving in the sea; and the expertness which they exhibited was truly amazing. They seemed to have two principal games in the water, one of which was to dive off a sort of stage which had been erected near a deep part of the sea, and chase each other in the water. Some of them went down to an extraordinary depth; others skimmed along the surface, or rolled over and over like porpoises, or diving under each other, came up unexpectedly and pulled each other down by a leg or an arm. They never seemed to tire of this sport, and, from the great heat of the water in the South Seas, they could remain in it nearly all day without feeling chilled. Many of these children were almost infants, scarce able to walk; yet they staggered down the beach, flung their round fat little black bodies fearlessly into deep water, and struck out to sea with as much confidence as ducklings. The other game to which I have referred was swimming in the surf. But as this is an amusement in which all engage, from children of ten to gray- headed men of sixty, and as I had an opportunity of witnessing it in perfection the day following, I shall describe it more minutely. I suppose it was in honour of their guest that this grand swimming-match was got up, for Romata came and told the captain that they were going to engage in it, and begged him to "come and see." "What sort of amusement is this surf swimming?" I inquired of Bill, as we walked together to a part of the shore on which several thousands of the natives were assembled. "It's a very favourite lark with these 'xtr'or'nary critters," replied Bill, giving a turn to the quid of tobacco that invariably bulged out his left cheek. "Ye see, Ralph, them fellows take to the water as soon a'most as they can walk, an' long before they can do that anything respectably, so that they are as much at home in the sea as on the land. Well, ye see, I 'spose they found swimmin' for miles out to sea, and divin' fathoms deep, wasn't exciting enough, so they invented this game o' the surf. Each man and boy, as you see, has got a short board or plank, with which he swims out for a mile or more to sea, and then, gettin' on the top o' yon thundering breaker, they come to shore on the top of it, yellin' and screechin' like fiends. It's a marvel to me that they're not dashed to shivers on the coral reef, for sure an' sartin am I that if any o' us tried it, we wouldn't be worth the fluke of a broken anchor after the wave fell. But there they go!" As he spoke, several hundreds of the natives, amongst whom we were now standing, uttered a loud yell, rushed down the beach, plunged into the surf, and were carried off by the seething foam of the retreating wave. At the point where we stood, the encircling coral reef joined the shore, so that the magnificent breakers, which a recent stiff breeze had rendered larger than usual, fell in thunder at the feet of the multitudes who lined the beach. For some time the swimmers continued to strike out to sea, breasting over the swell like hundreds of black seals. Then they all turned, and, watching an approaching billow, mounted its white crest, and, each laying his breast on the short flat board, came rolling towards the shore, careering on the summit of the mighty wave, while they and the onlookers shouted and yelled with excitement. Just as the monster wave curled in solemn majesty to fling its bulky length upon the beach, most of the swimmers slid back into the trough behind; others, slipping off their boards, seized them in their hands, and, plunging through the watery waste, swam out to repeat the amusement; but a few, who seemed to me the most reckless, continued their career until they were launched upon the beach, and enveloped in the churning foam and spray. One of these last came in on the crest of the wave most manfully, and landed with a violent bound almost on the spot where Bill and I stood. I saw by his peculiar head-dress that he was the chief whom the tribe entertained as their guest. The sea-water had removed nearly all the paint with which his face had been covered; and, as he rose panting to his feet, I recognised, to my surprise, the features of Tararo, my old friend of the Coral Island! Tararo at the same moment recognised me, and, advancing quickly, took me round the neck and rubbed noses; which had the effect of transferring a good deal of the moist paint from his nose to mine. Then, recollecting that this was not the white man's mode of salutation, he grasped me by the hand and shook it violently. "Hallo, Ralph!" cried Bill, in surprise, "that chap seems to have taken a sudden fancy to you, or he must be an old acquaintance." "Right, Bill," I replied, "he is indeed an old acquaintance;" and I explained in a few words that he was the chief whose party Jack and Peterkin and I had helped to save. Tararo having thrown away his surf-board, entered into an animated conversation with Bill, pointing frequently during the course of it to me; whereby I concluded he must be telling him about the memorable battle, and the part we had taken in it. When he paused, I begged of Bill to ask him about the woman Avatea, for I had some hope that she might have come with Tararo on this visit. "And ask him," said I, "who she is, for I am persuaded she is of a different race from the Feejeeans." On the mention of her name the chief frowned darkly, and seemed to speak with much anger. "You're right, Ralph," said Bill, when the chief had ceased to talk; "she's not a Feejee girl, but a Samoan. How she ever came to this place the chief does not very clearly explain, but he says she was taken in war, and that he got her three years ago, an' kept her as his daughter ever since. Lucky for her, poor girl, else she'd have been roasted and eaten like the rest." "But why does Tararo frown and look so angry?" said I. "Because the girl's somewhat obstinate, like most o' the sex, an' won't marry the man he wants her to. It seems that a chief of some other island came on a visit to Tararo and took a fancy to her, but she wouldn't have him on no account, bein' already in love, and engaged to a young chief whom Tararo hates, and she kicked up a desperate shindy; so, as he was going on a war expedition in his canoe, he left her to think about it, sayin' he'd be back in six months or so, when he hoped she wouldn't be so obstropolous. This happened just a week ago; an' Tararo says that if she's not ready to go, when the chief returns, as his bride, she'll be sent to him as a _long pig_." "As a long pig!" I exclaimed in surprise; "why what does he mean by that?" "He means somethin' very unpleasant," answered Bill with a frown. "You see these blackguards eat men an' women just as readily as they eat pigs; and, as baked pigs and baked men are very like each other in appearance, they call men _long_ pigs. If Avatea goes to this fellow as a long pig, it's all up with her, poor thing." "Is she on the island now?" I asked eagerly. "No, she's at Tararo's island." "And where does it lie?" "About fifty or sixty miles to the south'ard o' this," returned Bill; "but I--" At this moment we were startled by the cry of "Mao! mao!--a shark! a shark!" which was immediately followed by a shriek that rang clear and fearfully loud above the tumult of cries that arose from the savages in the water and on the land. We turned hastily towards the direction whence the cry came, and had just time to observe the glaring eye-balls of one of the swimmers as he tossed his arms in the air. Next instant he was pulled under the waves. A canoe was instantly launched, and the hand of the drowning man was caught, but only half of his body was dragged from the maw of the monster, which followed the canoe until the water became so shallow that it could scarcely swim. The crest of the next billow was tinged with red as it rolled towards the shore. In most countries of the world this would have made a deep impression on the spectators, but the only effect it had upon these islanders was to make them hurry with all speed out of the sea, lest a similar fate should befall some of the others; but, so utterly reckless were they of human life, that it did not for a moment suspend the progress of their amusements. It is true the surf-swimming ended for that time somewhat abruptly, but they immediately proceeded with other games. Bill told me that sharks do not often attack the surf-swimmers, being frightened away by the immense numbers of men and boys in the water, and by the shouting and splashing that they make. "But," said he, "such a thing as you have seen just now don't frighten them much. They'll be at it again to-morrow or next day, just as if there wasn't a single shark between Feejee and Nova Zembla." After this the natives had a series of wrestling and boxing matches; and being men of immense size and muscle, they did a good deal of injury to each other, especially in boxing, in which not only the lower orders, but several of the chiefs and priests engaged. Each bout was very quickly terminated, for they did not pretend to a scientific knowledge of the art, and wasted no time in sparring, but hit straight out at each other's heads, and their blows were delivered with great force. Frequently one of the combatants was knocked down with a single blow; and one gigantic fellow hit his adversary so severely that he drove the skin entirely off his forehead. This feat was hailed with immense applause by the spectators. During these exhibitions, which were very painful to me, though I confess I could not refrain from beholding them, I was struck with the beauty of many of the figures and designs that were tattooed on the persons of the chiefs and principal men. One figure, that seemed to me very elegant, was that of a palm-tree tattooed on the back of a man's leg, the roots rising, as it were, from under his heel, the stem ascending the tendon of the ankle, and the graceful head branching out upon the calf. I afterwards learned that this process of tattooing is very painful, and takes long to do, commencing at the age of ten, and being continued at intervals up to the age of thirty. It is done by means of an instrument made of bone, with a number of sharp teeth with which the skin is punctured. Into these punctures a preparation made from the kernel of the candle-nut, mixed with cocoa-nut oil, is rubbed, and the mark thus made is indelible. The operation is performed by a class of men whose profession it is, and they tattoo as much at a time, as the person on whom they are operating can bear; which is not much, the pain and inflammation caused by tattooing being very great, sometimes causing death. Some of the chiefs were tattooed with an ornamental stripe down the legs, which gave them the appearance of being clad in tights. Others had marks round the ankles and insteps, which looked like tight-fitting and elegant boots. Their faces were also tattooed, and their breasts were very profusely marked with every imaginable species of device,--muskets, dogs, birds, pigs, clubs, and canoes, intermingled with lozenges, squares, circles, and other arbitrary figures. The women were not tattooed so much as the men, having only a few marks on their feet and arms. But I must say, however objectionable this strange practice may be, it nevertheless had this good effect, that it took away very much from their appearance of nakedness. Next day, while we were returning from the woods to our schooner, we observed Romata rushing about in the neighbourhood of his house, apparently mad with passion. "Ah!" said Bill to me, "there he's at his old tricks again. That's his way when he gets drink. The natives make a sort of drink o' their own, and it makes him bad enough; but when he gets brandy he's like a wild tiger. The captain, I suppose, has given him a bottle, as usual, to keep him in good humour. After drinkin' he usually goes to sleep, and the people know it well and keep out of his way, for fear they should waken him. Even the babies are taken out of ear-shot; for, when he's waked up, he rushes out just as you see him now, and spears or clubs the first person he meets." It seemed at the present time, however, that no deadly weapon had been in his way, for the infuriated chief was raging about without one. Suddenly he caught sight of an unfortunate man who was trying to conceal himself behind a tree. Rushing towards him, Romata struck him a terrible blow on the head, which knocked out the poor man's eye and also dislocated the chief's finger. The wretched creature offered no resistance; he did not even attempt to parry the blow. Indeed, from what Bill said, I found that he might consider himself lucky in having escaped with his life, which would certainly have been forfeited had the chief been possessed of a club at the time. "Have these wretched creatures no law among themselves," said I, "which can restrain such wickedness?" "None," replied Bill. "The chief's word is law. He might kill and eat a dozen of his own subjects any day for nothing more than his own pleasure, and nobody would take the least notice of it." This ferocious deed took place within sight of our party as we wended our way to the beach, but I could not observe any other expression on the faces of the men than that of total indifference or contempt. It seemed to me a very awful thing that it should be possible for men to come to such hardness of heart and callousness to the sight of bloodshed and violence; but, indeed, I began to find that such constant exposure to scenes of blood was having a slight effect upon myself, and I shuddered when I came to think that I, too, was becoming callous. I thought upon this subject much that night while I walked up and down the deck during my hours of watch; and I came to the conclusion that if I, who hated, abhorred, and detested such bloody deeds as I had witnessed within the last few weeks, could so soon come to be less sensitive about them, how little wonder that these poor ignorant savages, who were born and bred in familiarity therewith, should think nothing of them at all, and should hold human life in so very slight esteem. CHAPTER XXVI. Mischief brewing--My blood is made to run cold--Evil consultations and wicked resolves--Bloody Bill attempts to do good and fails--The attack--Wholesale murder--The flight--The escape. Next morning I awoke with a feverish brow and a feeling of deep depression at my heart; and the more I thought on my unhappy fate, the more wretched and miserable did I feel. I was surrounded on all sides by human beings of the most dreadful character, to whom the shedding of blood was mere pastime. On shore were the natives, whose practices were so horrible that I could not think of them without shuddering. On board were none but pirates of the blackest dye, who, although not cannibals, were foul murderers, and more blameworthy even than the savages, inasmuch as they knew better. Even Bill, with whom I had, under the strange circumstances of my lot, formed a kind of intimacy, was so fierce in his nature as to have acquired the title of "Bloody" from his vile companions. I felt very much cast down the more I considered the subject and the impossibility of delivery, as it seemed to me, at least for a long time to come. At last, in my feeling of utter helplessness, I prayed fervently to the Almighty that he would deliver me out of my miserable condition; and when I had done so I felt some degree of comfort. When the captain came on deck, before the hour at which the men usually started for the woods, I begged of him to permit me to remain aboard that day, as I did not feel well; but he looked at me angrily, and ordered me, in a surly tone, to get ready to go on shore as usual. The fact was that the captain had been out of humour for some time past. Romata and he had had some differences, and high words had passed between them, during which the chief had threatened to send a fleet of his war-canoes, with a thousand men, to break up and burn the schooner; whereupon the captain smiled sarcastically, and going up to the chief gazed sternly in his face, while he said, "I have only to raise my little finger just now, and my big gun will blow your whole village to atoms in five minutes!" Although the chief was a bold man, he quailed before the pirate's glance and threat, and made no reply; but a bad feeling had been raised and old sores had been opened. I had, therefore, to go with the wood-cutters that day. Before starting, however, the captain called me into the cabin, and said,-- "Here, Ralph, I've got a mission for you, lad. That blackguard Romata is in the dumps, and nothing will mollify him but a gift; so do you go up to his house and give him these whales' teeth, with my compliments. Take with you one of the men who can speak the language." I looked at the gift in some surprise, for it consisted of six white whales' teeth, and two of the same dyed bright red, which seemed to me very paltry things. However, I did not dare to hesitate or ask any questions; so, gathering them up, I left the cabin and was soon on my way to the chief's house, accompanied by Bill. On expressing my surprise at the gift, he said,-- "They're paltry enough to you or me, Ralph, but they're considered of great value by them chaps. They're a sort o' cash among them. The red ones are the most prized, one of them bein' equal to twenty o' the white ones. I suppose the only reason for their bein' valuable is that there ain't many of them, and they're hard to be got." On arriving at the house we found Romata sitting on a mat, in the midst of a number of large bales of native cloth and other articles, which had been brought to him as presents from time to time by inferior chiefs. He received us rather haughtily, but on Bill explaining the nature of our errand he became very condescending, and his eyes glistened with satisfaction when he received the whales' teeth, although he laid them aside with an assumption of kingly indifference. "Go," said he, with a wave of the hand,--"go, tell your captain that he may cut wood to-day, but not to-morrow. He must come ashore,--I want to have a palaver with him." As we left the house to return to the woods, Bill shook his head: "There's mischief brewin' in that black rascal's head. I know him of old. But what comes here?" As he spoke, we heard the sound of laughter and shouting in the wood, and presently there issued from it a band of savages, in the midst of whom were a number of men bearing burdens on their shoulders. At first I thought that these burdens were poles with something rolled round them, the end of each pole resting on a man's shoulder. But on a nearer approach I saw that they were human beings, tied hand and foot, and so lashed to the poles that they could not move. I counted twenty of them as they passed. "More murder!" said Bill, in a voice that sounded between a hoarse laugh and a groan. "Surely they are not going to murder them?" said I, looking anxiously into Bill's face. "I don't know, Ralph," replied Bill, "what they're goin' to do with them; but I fear they mean no good when they tie fellows up in that way." As we continued our way towards the wood-cutters, I observed that Bill looked anxiously over his shoulder, in the direction where the procession had disappeared. At last he stopped, and turning abruptly on his heel, said,-- "I tell ye what it is, Ralph, I must be at the bottom o' that affair. Let us follow these black scoundrels and see what they're goin' to do." I must say I had no wish to pry further into their bloody practices; but Bill seemed bent on it, so I turned and went. We passed rapidly through the bush, being guided in the right direction by the shouts of the savages. Suddenly there was a dead silence, which continued for some time, while Bill and I involuntarily quickened our pace until we were running at the top of our speed across the narrow neck of land previously mentioned. As we reached the verge of the wood, we discovered the savages surrounding the large war-canoe, which they were apparently on the point of launching. Suddenly the multitude put their united strength to the canoe; but scarcely had the huge machine begun to move, when a yell, the most appalling that ever fell upon my ear, rose high above the shouting of the savages. It had not died away when another and another smote upon my throbbing ear; and then I saw that these inhuman monsters were actually launching their canoe over the living bodies of their victims. But there was no pity in the breasts of these men. Forward they went in ruthless indifference, shouting as they went, while high above their voices rang the dying shrieks of those wretched creatures, as, one after another, the ponderous canoe passed over them, burst the eyeballs from their sockets, and sent the life's blood gushing from their mouths. Oh, reader, this is no fiction. I would not, for the sake of thrilling you with horror, invent so terrible a scene. It was witnessed. It is true; true as that accursed sin which has rendered the human heart capable of such diabolical enormities! When it was over I turned round and fell upon the grass with a deep groan; but Bill seized me by the arm, and lifting me up as if I had been a child, cried,-- "Come along, lad; let's away!"--and so, staggering and stumbling over the tangled underwood, we fled from the fatal spot. During the remainder of that day I felt as if I were in a horrible dream. I scarce knew what was said to me, and was more than once blamed by the men for idling my time. At last the hour to return aboard came. We marched down to the beach, and I felt relief for the first time when my feet rested on the schooner's deck. In the course of the evening I overheard part of a conversation between the captain and the first mate, which startled me not a little. They were down in the cabin, and conversed in an under-tone, but the sky-light being off, I overheard every word that was said. "I don't half like it," said the mate. "It seems to me that we'll only have hard fightin' and no pay." "No pay!" repeated the captain, in a voice of suppressed anger. "Do you call a good cargo all for nothing no pay?" "Very true," returned the mate; "but we've got the cargo aboard. Why not cut your cable and take French leave o' them? What's the use o' tryin' to lick the blackguards when it'll do us no manner o' good?" "Mate," said the captain, in a low voice, "you talk like a fresh-water sailor. I can only attribute this shyness to some strange delusion; for surely" (his voice assumed a slightly sneering tone as he said this) "surely I am not to suppose that _you_ have become soft-hearted! Besides, you are wrong in regard to the cargo being aboard; there's a good quarter of it lying in the woods, and that blackguard chief knows it and won't let me take it off. He defied us to do our worst, yesterday." "Defied us! did he?" cried the mate, with a bitter laugh. "Poor contemptible thing!" "And yet he seems not so contemptible but that you are afraid to attack him." "Who said I was afraid?" growled the mate, sulkily. "I'm as ready as any man in the ship. But, captain, what is it that you intend to do?" "I intend to muffle the sweeps and row the schooner up to the head of the creek there, from which point we can command the pile of sandal-wood with our gun. Then I shall land with all the men except two, who shall take care of the schooner and be ready with the boat to take us off. We can creep through the woods to the head of the village, where these cannibals are always dancing round their suppers of human flesh, and if the carbines of the men are loaded with a heavy charge of buck-shot, we can drop forty or fifty at the first volley. After that the thing will be easy enough. The savages will take to the mountains in a body, and we shall take what we require, up anchor, and away." To this plan the mate at length agreed. As he left the cabin I heard the captain say,-- "Give the men an extra glass of grog, and don't forget the buck-shot." The reader may conceive the horror with which I heard this murderous conversation. I immediately repeated it to Bill, who seemed much perplexed about it. At length he said,-- "I'll tell you what I'll do, Ralph: I'll swim ashore after dark and fix a musket to a tree not far from the place where we'll have to land, and I'll tie a long string to the trigger, so that when our fellows cross it they'll let it off, and so alarm the village in time to prevent an attack, but not in time to prevent us gettin' back to the boat; so, master captain," added Bill with a smile that for the first time seemed to me to be mingled with good-natured cheerfulness, "you'll be baulked at least for once in your life by Bloody Bill." After it grew dark, Bill put this resolve in practice. He slipped over the side with a musket in his left hand, while with his right he swam ashore and entered the woods. He soon returned, having accomplished his purpose, and got on board without being seen,--I being the only one on deck. When the hour of midnight approached the men were mustered on deck, the cable was cut and the muffled sweeps got out. These sweeps were immensely large oars, each requiring a couple of men to work it. In a few minutes we entered the mouth of the creek, which was indeed the mouth of a small river, and took about half an hour to ascend it, although the spot where we intended to land was not more than six hundred yards from the mouth, because there was a slight current against us, and the mangroves which narrowed the creek, impeded the rowers in some places. Having reached the spot, which was so darkened by overhanging trees that we could see with difficulty, a small kedge anchor attached to a thin line was let softly down over the stern. "Now, lads," whispered the captain, as he walked along the line of men, who were all armed to the teeth, "don't be in a hurry, aim low, and don't waste your first shots." He then pointed to the boat, into which the men crowded in silence. There was no room to row, but oars were not needed, as a slight push against the side of the schooner sent the boat gliding to the shore. "There's no need of leaving two in the boat," whispered the mate, as the men stepped out; "we shall want all our hands. Let Ralph stay." The captain assented, and ordered me to stand in readiness with the boat- hook, to shove ashore at a moment's notice if they should return, or to shove off if any of the savages should happen to approach. He then threw his carbine into the hollow of his arm and glided through the bushes followed by his men. With a throbbing head I awaited the result of our plan. I knew the exact locality where the musket was placed, for Bill had described it to me, and I kept my straining eyes fixed upon the spot. But no sound came, and I began to fear that either they had gone in another direction or that Bill had not fixed the string properly. Suddenly I heard a faint click, and observed one or two bright sparks among the bushes. My heart immediately sank within me, for I knew at once that the trigger had indeed been pulled but that the priming had not caught. The plan, therefore, had utterly failed. A feeling of dread now began to creep over me as I stood in the boat, in that dark, silent spot, awaiting the issue of this murderous expedition. I shuddered as I glanced at the water that glided past like a dark reptile. I looked back at the schooner, but her hull was just barely visible, while her tapering masts were lost among the trees which overshadowed her. Her lower sails were set, but so thick was the gloom that they were quite invisible. Suddenly I heard a shot. In a moment a thousand voices raised a yell in the village; again the cry rose on the night air, and was followed by broken shouts as of scattered parties of men bounding into the woods. Then I heard another shout loud and close at hand. It was the voice of the captain cursing the man who had fired the premature shot. Then came the order, "Forward," followed by the wild hurrah of our men, as they charged the savages. Shots now rang in quick succession, and at last a loud volley startled the echoes of the woods. It was followed by a multitude of wild shrieks, which were immediately drowned in another "hurrah" from the men; the distance of the sound proving that they were driving their enemies before them towards the sea. While I was listening intently to these sounds, which were now mingled in confusion, I was startled by the rustling of the leaves not far from me. At first I thought it was a party of savages who had observed the schooner, but I was speedily undeceived by observing a body of natives--apparently several hundreds, as far as I could guess in the uncertain light--bounding through the woods towards the scene of battle. I saw at once that this was a party who had out-flanked our men, and would speedily attack them in the rear. And so it turned out, for, in a short time, the shouts increased ten-fold, and among them I thought I heard a death-cry uttered by voices familiar to my ear. At length the tumult of battle ceased, and, from the cries of exultation that now arose from the savages, I felt assured that our men had been conquered. I was immediately thrown into dreadful consternation. What was I now to do? To be taken by the savages was too horrible to be thought of; to flee to the mountains was hopeless, as I should soon be discovered; and to take the schooner out of the creek without assistance was impossible. I resolved, however, to make the attempt, as being my only hope, and was on the point of pushing off when my hand was stayed and my blood chilled by an appalling shriek in which I recognised the voice of one of the crew. It was succeeded by a shout from the savages. Then came another, and another shriek of agony, making my ears to tingle, as I felt convinced they were murdering the pirate crew in cold blood. With a bursting heart and my brain whirling as if on fire, I seized the boat-hook to push from shore when a man sprang from the bushes. "Stop! Ralph, stop!--there now, push off," he cried, and bounded into the boat so violently as nearly to upset her. It was Bill's voice! In another moment we were on board,--the boat made fast, the line of the anchor cut, and the sweeps run out. At the first stroke of Bill's giant arm the schooner was nearly pulled ashore, for in his haste he forgot that I could scarcely move the unwieldy oar. Springing to the stern he lashed the rudder in such a position as that, while it aided me, it acted against him, and so rendered the force of our strokes nearly equal. The schooner now began to glide quickly down the creek, but before we reached its mouth, a yell from a thousand voices on the bank told that we were discovered. Instantly a number of the savages plunged into the water and swam towards us; but we were making so much way that they could not overtake us. One, however, an immensely powerful man, succeeded in laying hold of the cut rope that hung from the stern, and clambered quickly upon deck. Bill caught sight of him the instant his head appeared above the taffrail. But he did not cease to row, and did not appear even to notice the savage until he was within a yard of him; then, dropping the sweep, he struck him a blow on the forehead with his clenched fist that felled him to the deck. Lifting him up he hurled him overboard and resumed the oar. But now a greater danger awaited us, for the savages had outrun us on the bank and were about to plunge into the water ahead of the schooner. If they succeeded in doing so our fate was sealed. For one moment Bill stood irresolute. Then, drawing a pistol from his belt, he sprang to the brass gun, held the pan of his pistol over the touch-hole and fired. The shot was succeeded by the hiss of the cannon's priming, then the blaze and the crashing thunder of the monstrous gun burst upon the savages with such deafening roar that it seemed as if their very mountains had been rent asunder. This was enough. The moment of surprise and hesitation caused by the unwonted sound, gave us time to pass the point; a gentle breeze, which the dense foliage had hitherto prevented us from feeling, bulged out our sails; the schooner bent before it, and the shouts of the disappointed savages grew fainter and fainter in the distance as we were slowly wafted out to sea. CHAPTER XXVII. Reflections--The wounded man--The squall--True consolation--Death. There is a power of endurance in human beings, both in their bodies and in their minds, which, I have often thought, seems to be wonderfully adapted and exactly proportioned to the circumstances in which individuals may happen to be placed,--a power which, in most cases, is sufficient to carry a man through and over every obstacle that may happen to be thrown in his path through life, no matter how high or how steep the mountain may be, but which often forsakes him the moment the summit is gained, the point of difficulty passed; and leaves him prostrated, with energies gone, nerves unstrung, and a feeling of incapacity pervading the entire frame that renders the most trifling effort almost impossible. During the greater part of that day I had been subjected to severe mental and much physical excitement, which had almost crushed me down by the time I was relieved from duty in the course of the evening. But when the expedition, whose failure has just been narrated, was planned, my anxieties and energies had been so powerfully aroused that I went through the protracted scenes of that terrible night without a feeling of the slightest fatigue. My mind and body were alike active and full of energy. No sooner was the last thrilling fear of danger past, however, than my faculties were utterly relaxed; and, when I felt the cool breezes of the Pacific playing around my fevered brow, and heard the free waves rippling at the schooner's prow, as we left the hated island behind us, my senses forsook me and I fell in a swoon upon the deck. From this state I was quickly aroused by Bill, who shook me by the arm, saying,-- "Hallo! Ralph, boy, rouse up, lad, we're safe now. Poor thing, I believe he's fainted." And raising me in his arms he laid me on the folds of the gaff-top-sail, which lay upon the deck near the tiller. "Here, take a drop o' this, it'll do you good, my boy," he added, in a voice of tenderness which I had never heard him use before, while he held a brandy- flask to my lips. I raised my eyes gratefully, as I swallowed a mouthful; next moment my head sank heavily upon my arm and I fell fast asleep. I slept long, for when I awoke the sun was a good way above the horizon. I did not move on first opening my eyes, as I felt a delightful sensation of rest pervading me, and my eyes were riveted on and charmed with the gorgeous splendour of the mighty ocean, that burst upon my sight. It was a dead calm; the sea seemed a sheet of undulating crystal, tipped and streaked with the saffron hues of sunrise, which had not yet merged into the glowing heat of noon; and there was a deep calm in the blue dome above, that was not broken even by the usual flutter of the sea-fowl. How long I would have lain in contemplation of this peaceful scene I know not, but my mind was recalled suddenly and painfully to the past and the present by the sight of Bill, who was seated on the deck at my feet with his head reclining, as if in sleep, on his right arm, which rested on the tiller. As he seemed to rest peacefully I did not mean to disturb him, but the slight noise I made in raising myself on my elbow caused him to start and look round. "Well, Ralph, awake at last, my boy; you have slept long and soundly," he said, turning towards me. On beholding his countenance I sprang up in anxiety. He was deadly pale, and his hair, which hung in dishevelled locks over his face, was clotted with blood. Blood also stained his hollow cheeks and covered the front of his shirt, which, with the greater part of dress, was torn and soiled with mud. "Oh, Bill!" said I, with deep anxiety, "what is the matter with you? You are ill. You must have been wounded." "Even so, lad," said Bill in a deep soft voice, while he extended his huge frame on the couch from which I had just risen. "I've got an ugly wound, I fear, and I've been waiting for you to waken, to ask you to get me a drop o' brandy and a mouthful o' bread from the cabin lockers. You seemed to sleep so sweetly, Ralph, that I didn't like to disturb you. But I don't feel up to much just now." I did not wait till he had done talking, but ran below immediately, and returned in a few seconds with a bottle of brandy and some broken biscuit. He seemed much refreshed after eating a few morsels and drinking a long draught of water mingled with a little of the spirits. Immediately afterwards he fell asleep, and I watched him anxiously until he awoke, being desirous of knowing the nature and extent of his wound. "Ha!" he exclaimed, on awaking suddenly, after a slumber of an hour, "I'm the better of that nap, Ralph; I feel twice the man I was;" and he attempted to rise, but sank back again immediately with a deep groan. "Nay, Bill you must not move, but lie still while I look at your wound. I'll make a comfortable bed for you here on deck, and get you some breakfast. After that you shall tell me how you got it. Cheer up, Bill," I added, seeing that he turned his head away; "you'll be all right in a little, and I'll be a capital nurse to you though I'm no doctor." I then left him, and lighted a fire in the caboose. While it was kindling, I went to the steward's pantry and procured the materials for a good breakfast, with which, in little more than half an hour, I returned to my companion. He seemed much better, and smiled kindly on me as I set before him a cup of coffee and a tray with several eggs and some bread on it. "Now then, Bill," said I, cheerfully, sitting down beside him on the deck, "let's fall to. I'm very hungry myself, I can tell you; but--I forgot--your wound," I added, rising; "let me look at it." I found that the wound was caused by a pistol shot in the chest. It did not bleed much, and, as it was on the right side, I was in hopes that it might not be very serious. But Bill shook his head. "However," said he, "sit down, Ralph, and I'll tell you all about it." "You see, after we left the boat an' began to push through the bushes, we went straight for the line of my musket, as I had expected; but by some unlucky chance it didn't explode, for I saw the line torn away by the men's legs, and heard the click o' the lock; so I fancy the priming had got damp and didn't catch. I was in a great quandary now what to do, for I couldn't concoct in my mind, in the hurry, any good reason for firin' off my piece. But they say necessity's the mother of invention; so, just as I was givin' it up and clinchin' my teeth to bide the worst o't, and take what should come, a sudden thought came into my head. I stepped out before the rest, seemin' to be awful anxious to be at the savages, tripped my foot on a fallen tree, plunged head foremost into a bush, an', ov coorse, my carbine exploded! Then came such a screechin' from the camp as I never heard in all my life. I rose at once, and was rushin' on with the rest when the captain called a halt. {The dying pirate: p334.jpg} "'You did that a-purpose, you villain!' he said, with a tremendous oath, and, drawin' a pistol from his belt, let fly right into my breast. I fell at once, and remembered no more till I was startled and brought round by the most awful yell I ever heard in my life, except, maybe, the shrieks o' them poor critters that were crushed to death under yon big canoe. Jumpin' up, I looked round, and, through the trees, saw a fire gleamin' not far off, the light o' which showed me the captain and men tied hand and foot, each to a post, and the savages dancin' round them like demons. I had scarce looked for a second, when I saw one o' them go up to the captain flourishing a knife, and, before I could wink, he plunged it into his breast, while another yell, like the one that roused me, rang upon my ear. I didn't wait for more, but, bounding up, went crashing through the bushes into the woods. The black fellows caught sight of me, however, but not in time to prevent me jumpin' into the boat, as you know." Bill seemed to be much exhausted after this recital, and shuddered frequently during the narrative, so I refrained from continuing the subject at that time, and endeavoured to draw his mind to other things. "But now, Bill," said I, "it behoves us to think about the future, and what course of action we shall pursue. Here we are, on the wide Pacific, in a well-appointed schooner, which is our own,--at least no one has a better claim to it than we have,--and the world lies before us. Moreover, here comes a breeze, so we must make up our minds which way to steer." "Ralph, boy," said my companion, "it matters not to me which way we go. I fear that my time is short now. Go where you will. I'm content." "Well then, Bill, I think we had better steer to the Coral Island, and see what has become of my dear old comrades, Jack and Peterkin. I believe the island has no name, but the captain once pointed it out to me on the chart, and I marked it afterwards; so, as we know pretty well our position just now, I think I can steer to it. Then, as to working the vessel, it is true I cannot hoist the sails single-handed, but luckily we have enough of sail set already, and if it should come on to blow a squall, I could at least drop the peaks of the main and fore sails, and clew them up partially without help, and throw her head close into the wind, so as to keep her all shaking till the violence of the squall is past. And if we have continued light breezes, I'll rig up a complication of blocks and fix them to the top-sail halyards, so that I shall be able to hoist the sails without help. 'Tis true I'll require half a day to hoist them, but we don't need to mind that. Then I'll make a sort of erection on deck to screen you from the sun, Bill; and if you can only manage to sit beside the tiller and steer for two hours every day, so as to let me get a nap, I'll engage to let you off duty all the rest of the twenty-four hours. And if you don't feel able for steering, I'll lash the helm and heave to, while I get you your breakfasts and dinners; and so we'll manage famously, and soon reach the Coral Island." Bill smiled faintly as I ran on in this strain. "And what will you do," said he, "if it comes on to blow a storm?" This question silenced me, while I considered what I should do in such a case. At length I laid my hand an his arm, and said, "Bill, when a man has done all that he _can_ do, he ought to leave the rest to God." "Oh, Ralph," said my companion, in a faint voice, looking anxiously into my face, "I wish that I had the feelin's about God that you seem to have, at this hour. I'm dyin', Ralph; yet I, who have braved death a hundred times, am afraid to die. I'm afraid to enter the next world. Something within tells me there will be a reckoning when I go there. But it's all over with me, Ralph. I feel that there's no chance o' my bein' saved." "Don't say that, Bill," said I, in deep compassion, "don't say that. I'm quite sure there's hope even for you, but I can't remember the words of the Bible that make me think so. Is there not a Bible on board, Bill?" "No; the last that was in the ship belonged to a poor boy that was taken aboard against his will. He died, poor lad, I think, through ill treatment and fear. After he was gone the captain found his Bible and flung it overboard." I now reflected, with great sadness and self-reproach, on the way in which I had neglected my Bible; and it flashed across me that I was actually in the sight of God a greater sinner than this blood-stained pirate; for, thought I, he tells me that he never read the Bible, and was never brought up to care for it; whereas I was carefully taught to read it by my own mother, and had read it daily as long as I possessed one, yet to so little purpose that I could not now call to mind a single text that would meet this poor man's case, and afford him the consolation he so much required. I was much distressed, and taxed my memory for a long time. At last a text did flash into my mind, and I wondered much that I had not thought of it before. "Bill," said I, in a low voice, "'Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved.'" "Ay, Ralph, I've heard the missionaries say that before now, but what good can it do me? It's not for me that. It's not for the likes o' me." I knew not now what to say, for, although I felt sure that that word was for him as well as for me, I could not remember any other word whereby I could prove it. After a short pause, Bill raised his eyes to mine and said, "Ralph, I've led a terrible life. I've been a sailor since I was a boy, and I've gone from bad to worse ever since I left my father's roof. I've been a pirate three years now. It is true I did not choose the trade, but I was inveigled aboard this schooner and kept here by force till I became reckless and at last joined them. Since that time my hand has been steeped in human blood again and again. Your young heart would grow cold if I--; but why should I go on? 'Tis of no use, Ralph; my doom is fixed." "Bill," said I, "'Though your sins be red like crimson, they shall be white as snow.' 'Only believe.'" "Only believe!" cried Bill, starting up on his elbow; "I've heard men talk o' believing as if it was easy. Ha! 'tis easy enough for a man to point to a rope and say, 'I believe that would bear my weight;' but 'tis another thing for a man to catch hold o' that rope, and swing himself by it over the edge of a precipice!" The energy with which he said this, and the action with which it was accompanied, were too much for Bill. He sank back with a deep groan. As if the very elements sympathized with this man's sufferings, a low moan came sweeping over the sea. "Hist! Ralph," said Bill, opening his eves; "there's a squall coming, lad. Look alive, boy. Clew up the fore-sail. Drop the main-sail peak. Them squalls come quick sometimes." I had already started to my feet, and saw that a heavy squall was indeed bearing down on us. It had hitherto escaped my notice, owing to my being so much engrossed by our conversation. I instantly did as Bill desired, for the schooner was still lying motionless on the glassy sea. I observed with some satisfaction that the squall was bearing down on the larboard bow, so that it would strike the vessel in the position in which she would be best able to stand the shock. Having done my best to shorten sail, I returned aft, and took my stand at the helm. "Now, boy," said Bill, in a faint voice, "keep her close to the wind." A few seconds afterwards he said, "Ralph, let me hear those two texts again." I repeated them. "Are ye sure, lad, ye saw them in the Bible?" "Quite sure," I replied. Almost before the words had left my lips the wind burst upon us, and the spray dashed over our decks. For a time the schooner stood it bravely, and sprang forward against the rising sea like a war-horse. Meanwhile clouds darkened the sky, and the sea began to rise in huge billows. There was still too much sail on the schooner, and, as the gale increased, I feared that the masts would be torn out of her or carried away, while the wind whistled and shrieked through the strained rigging. Suddenly the wind shifted a point, a heavy sea struck us on the bow, and the schooner was almost laid on her beam-ends, so that I could scarcely keep my legs. At the same moment Bill lost his hold of the belaying-pin which had served to steady him, and he slid with stunning violence against the sky- light. As he lay on the deck close beside me, I could see that the shock had rendered him insensible, but I did not dare to quit the tiller for an instant, as it required all my faculties, bodily and mental, to manage the schooner. For an hour the blast drove us along, while, owing to the sharpness of the vessel's bow and the press of canvass, she dashed through the waves instead of breasting over them, thereby drenching the decks with water fore and aft. At the end of that time the squall passed away, and left us rocking on the bosom of the agitated sea. My first care, the instant I could quit the helm, was to raise Bill from the deck and place him on the couch. I then ran below for the brandy bottle and rubbed his face and hands with it, and endeavoured to pour a little down his throat. But my efforts, although I continued them long and assiduously, were of no avail; as I let go the hand which I had been chafing it fell heavily on the deck. I laid my hand over his heart, and sat for some time quite motionless, but there was no flutter there--the pirate was dead! CHAPTER XXVIII. Alone on the deep--Necessity the mother of invention--A valuable book discovered--Natural phenomenon--A bright day in my history. It was with feelings of awe, not unmingled with fear, that I now seated myself on the cabin sky-light and gazed upon the rigid features of my late comrade, while my mind wandered over his past history and contemplated with anxiety my present position. Alone! in the midst of the wide Pacific, having a most imperfect knowledge of navigation, and in a schooner requiring at least eight men as her proper crew. But I will not tax the reader's patience with a minute detail of my feelings and doings during the first few days that followed the death of my companion. I will merely mention that I tied a cannon ball to his feet and, with feelings of the deepest sorrow, consigned him to the deep. For fully a week after that a steady breeze blew from the east, and, as my course lay west-and-by-north, I made rapid progress towards my destination. I could not take an observation, which I very much regretted, as the captain's quadrant was in the cabin; but, from the day of setting sail from the island of the savages, I had kept a dead reckoning, and as I knew pretty well now how much lee-way the schooner made, I hoped to hit the Coral Island without much difficulty. In this I was the more confident that I knew its position on the chart (which I understood was a very good one), and so had its correct bearings by compass. As the weather seemed now quite settled and fine, and as I had got into the trade-winds, I set about preparations for hoisting the top-sails. This was a most arduous task, and my first attempts were complete failures, owing, in a great degree, to my reprehensible ignorance of mechanical forces. The first error I made was in applying my apparatus of blocks and pulleys to a rope which was too weak, so that the very first heave I made broke it in two, and sent me staggering against the after-hatch, over which I tripped, and, striking against the main-boom, tumbled down the companion ladder into the cabin. I was much bruised and somewhat stunned by this untoward accident. However, I considered it fortunate that I was not killed. In my next attempt I made sure of not coming by a similar accident, so I unreeved the tackling and fitted up larger blocks and ropes. But although the principle on which I acted was quite correct, the machinery was now so massive and heavy that the mere friction and stiffness of the thick cordage prevented me from moving it at all. Afterwards, however, I came to proportion things more correctly; but I could not avoid reflecting at the time how much better it would have been had I learned all this from observation and study, instead of waiting till I was forced to acquire it through the painful and tedious lessons of experience. After the tackling was prepared and in good working order, it took me the greater part of a day to hoist the main-top sail. As I could not steer and work at this at the same time, I lashed the helm in such a position that, with a little watching now and then, it kept the schooner in her proper course. By this means I was enabled also to go about the deck and down below for things that I wanted, as occasion required; also to cook and eat my victuals. But I did not dare to trust to this plan during the three hours of rest that I allowed myself at night, as the wind might have shifted, in which case I should have been blown far out of my course ere I awoke. I was, therefore, in the habit of heaving-to during those three hours; that is, fixing the rudder and the sails in such a position as that by acting against each other, they would keep the ship stationary. After my night's rest, therefore, I had only to make allowance for the lee-way she had made, and so resume my course. Of course I was to some extent anxious lest another squall should come, but I made the best provision I could in the circumstances, and concluded that by letting go the weather-braces of the top-sails and the top-sail halyards at the same time, I should thereby render these sails almost powerless. Besides this, I proposed to myself to keep a sharp look-out on the barometer in the cabin, and if I observed at any time a sudden fall in it, I resolved that I would instantly set about my multiform appliances for reducing sail, so as to avoid being taken at unawares. Thus I sailed prosperously for two weeks, with a fair wind, so that I calculated I must be drawing near to the Coral Island; at the thought of which my heart bounded with joyful expectation. The only book I found on board, after a careful search, was a volume of Captain Cook's voyages. This, I suppose, the pirate captain had brought with him in order to guide him, and to furnish him with information regarding the islands of these seas. I found this a most delightful book indeed, and I not only obtained much interesting knowledge about the sea in which I was sailing, but I had many of my own opinions, derived from experience, corroborated; and not a few of them corrected. Besides the reading of this charming book, and the daily routine of occupations, nothing of particular note happened to me during this voyage, except once, when on rising one night, after my three hours' nap, while it was yet dark, I was amazed and a little alarmed to find myself floating in what appeared to be a sea of blue fire! I had often noticed the beautiful appearance of phosphorescent light, but this far exceeded anything of the sort I ever saw before. The whole sea appeared somewhat like milk and was remarkably luminous. I rose in haste, and, letting down a bucket into the sea, brought some of the water on board and took it down to the cabin to examine it; but no sooner did I approach the light than the strange appearance disappeared, and when I removed the cabin lamp the luminous light appeared again. I was much puzzled with this, and took up a little of the water in the hollow of my hand and then let it run off, when I found that the luminous substance was left behind on my palm. I ran with it to the lamp; but when I got there it was gone. I found, however, that when I went into the dark my hand shone again; so I took the large glass of the ship's telescope and examined my hand minutely, when I found that there were on it one or two small patches of a clear, transparent substance like jelly, which were so thin as to be almost invisible to the naked eye. Thus I came to know that the beautiful phosphoric light, which I had so often admired before, was caused by animals, for I had no doubt that these were of the same kind as the medusae or jelly-fish which are seen in all parts of the world. On the evening of my fourteenth day, I was awakened out of a nap into which I had fallen by a loud cry, and starting up, I gazed around me. I was surprised and delighted to see a large albatross soaring majestically over the ship. I immediately took it into my head that this was the albatross I had seen at Penguin Island. I had, of course, no good reason for supposing this, but the idea occurred to me, I know not why, and I cherished it, and regarded the bird with as much affection as if he had been an old friend. He kept me company all that day and left me as night fell. Next morning as I stood motionless and with heavy eyes at the helm, for I had not slept well, I began to weary anxiously for day-light, and peered towards the horizon, where I thought I observed something like a black cloud against the dark sky. Being always on the alert for squalls, I ran to the bow. There could be no doubt it was a squall, and as I listened I thought I heard the murmur of the coming gale. Instantly I began to work might and main at my cumbrous tackle for shortening sail, and in the course of an hour and a half had the most of it reduced,--the top-sail yards down on the caps, the top-sails clewed up, the sheets hauled in, the main and fore peaks lowered, and the flying-jib down. While thus engaged the dawn advanced, and I cast an occasional furtive glance ahead in the midst of my labour. But now that things were prepared for the worst, I ran forward again and looked anxiously over the bow. I now heard the roar of the waves distinctly, and as a single ray of the rising sun gleamed over the ocean I saw--what! could it be that I was dreaming?--that magnificent breaker with its ceaseless roar!--that mountain top!--yes, once more I beheld the Coral Island! CHAPTER XXIX. The effect of a cannon-shot--A happy reunion of a somewhat moist nature--Retrospects and explanations--An awful dive--New plans--The last of the Coral Island. I almost fell upon the deck with the tumult of mingled emotions that filled my heart, as I gazed ardently towards my beautiful island. It was still many miles away, but sufficiently near to enable me to trace distinctly the well-remembered outlines of the two mountains. My first impulse was to utter an exclamation of gratitude for being carried to my former happy home in safety; my second, to jump up, clap my hands, shout, and run up and down the deck, with no other object in view than that of giving vent to my excited feelings. Then I went below for the telescope, and spent nearly ten minutes of the utmost impatience in vainly trying to get a focus, and in rubbing the skin nearly off my eyes, before I discovered that having taken off the large glass to examine the phosphoric water with I had omitted to put it on again. After that I looked up impatiently at the sails, which I now regretted having lowered so hastily, and for a moment thought of hoisting the main- top sail again; but recollecting that it would take me full half a day to accomplish, and that, at the present rate of sailing, two hours would bring me to the island, I immediately dismissed the idea. The remainder of the time I spent in making feverish preparations for arriving and seeing my dear comrades. I remembered that they were not in the habit of rising before six, and, as it was now only three, I hoped to arrive before they were awake. Moreover, I set about making ready to let go the anchor, resolving in my own mind that, as I knew the depth of water in the passage of the reef and within the lagoon, I would run the schooner in and bring up opposite the bower. Fortunately the anchor was hanging at the cat-head, otherwise I should never have been able to use it. Now, I had only to cut the tackling, and it would drop of its own weight. After searching among the flags, I found the terrible black one, which I ran up to the peak. While I was doing this, a thought struck me. I went to the powder magazine, brought up a blank cartridge and loaded the big brass gun, which, it will be remembered, was unhoused when we set sail, and, as I had no means of housing it, there it had stood, bristling alike at fair weather and foul all the voyage. I took care to grease its mouth well, and, before leaving the fore part of the ship, thrust the poker into the fire. {A terrible surprise: p352.jpg} All was now ready. A steady five-knot breeze was blowing, so that I was now not more than quarter of a mile from the reef. I was soon at the entrance, and, as the schooner glided quietly through, I glanced affectionately at the huge breaker, as if it had been the same one I had seen there when I bade adieu, as I feared for ever, to the island. On coming opposite the Water Garden, I put the helm hard down. The schooner came round with a rapid, graceful bend, and lost way just opposite the bower. Running forward, I let go the anchor, caught up the red-hot poker, applied it to the brass gun, and the mountains with a _bang_, such as had only once before broke their slumbering echoes! Effective although it was, however, it was scarcely equal to the bang with which, instantly after, Peterkin bounded from the bower, in scanty costume, his eye-balls starting from his head with surprise and terror. One gaze he gave, one yell, and then fled into the bushes like a wild cat. The next moment Jack went through exactly the same performance, the only difference being, that his movements were less like those of Jack-in- the-box, though not less vigorous and rapid than those of Peterkin. "Hallo!" I shouted, almost mad with joy, "what, ho! Peterkin! Jack! hallo! it's me!" My shout was just in time to arrest them. They halted and turned round, and, the instant I repeated the cry, I saw that they recognised my voice, by both of them running at full speed towards the beach. I could no longer contain myself. Throwing off my jacket, I jumped overboard at the same moment that Jack bounded into the sea. In another moment we met in deep water, clasped each other round the neck, and sank, as a matter of course, to the bottom! We were well-nigh choked, and instantly struggled to the surface, where Peterkin was spluttering about like a wounded duck, laughing and crying by turns, and choking himself with salt water! It would be impossible to convey to my reader, by description, an adequate conception of the scene that followed my landing on the beach, as we stood embracing each other indiscriminately in our dripping garments, and giving utterance to incoherent rhapsodies, mingled with wild shouts. It can be more easily imagined than described, so I will draw a curtain over this part of my history, and carry the reader forward over an interval of three days. During the greater part of that period Peterkin did nothing but roast pigs, taro, and bread-fruit, and ply me with plantains, plums, potatoes, and cocoa-nuts, while I related to him and Jack the terrible and wonderful adventures I had gone through since we last met. After I had finished the account, they made me go all over it again; and, when I had concluded the second recital, I had to go over it again, while they commented upon it piecemeal. They were much affected by what I told them of the probable fate of Avatea, and Peterkin could by no means brook the idea of the poor girl being converted into a _long pig_! As for Jack, he clenched his teeth, and shook his fist towards the sea, saying at the same time, that he was sorry he had not broken Tararo's head, and he only hoped that one day he should be able to plant his knuckles on the bridge of that chief's nose! After they had "pumped me dry," as Peterkin said, I begged to be informed of what had happened to them during my long absence, and particularly as to how they got out of the Diamond Cave. "Well, you must know," began Jack, "after you had dived out of the cave, on the day you were taken away from us, we waited very patiently for half an hour, not expecting you to return before the end of that time. Then we began to upbraid you for staying so long, when you knew we would be anxious; but when an hour passed, we became alarmed, and I resolved at all hazards to dive out, and see what had become of you, although I felt for poor Peterkin, because, as he truly said, 'If you never come back, I'm shut up here for life.' However, I promised not to run any risk, and he let me go; which, to say truth, I thought very courageous of him!" "I should just think it was!" interrupted Peterkin, looking at Jack over the edge of a monstrous potato which he happened to be devouring at the time. "Well," continued Jack, "you may guess my consternation when you did not answer to my halloo. At first I imagined that the pirates must have killed you, and left you in the bush, or thrown you into the sea; then it occurred to me that this would have served no end of theirs, so I came to the conclusion that they must have carried you away with them. As this thought struck me, I observed the pirate schooner standing away to the nor'ard, almost hull-down on the horizon, and I sat down on the rocks to watch her as she slowly sank from my sight. And I tell you, Ralph, my boy, that I shed more tears that time, at losing you, than I have done, I verify believe, all my life before--" "Pardon me, Jack, for interrupting," said Peterkin; "surely you must be mistaken in that; you've often told me that, when you were a baby, you used to howl and roar from morning to--" "Hold your tongue, Peterkin," cried Jack. "Well, after the schooner had disappeared, I dived back into the cave, much to Peterkin's relief, and told him what I had seen. We sat down and had a long talk over this matter, and then we agreed to make a regular, systematic search through the woods, so as to make sure, at least, that you had not been killed. But now we thought of the difficulty of getting out of the cave without your help. Peterkin became dreadfully nervous when he thought of this; and I must confess that I felt some alarm, for, of course, I could not hope alone to take him out so quickly as we two together had brought him in; and he himself vowed that, if we had been a moment longer with him that time, he would have had to take a breath of salt water. However, there was no help for it, and I endeavoured to calm his fears as well as I could: 'for,' said I, 'you can't live here, Peterkin;' to which he replied, 'Of course not, Jack, I can only die here, and, as that's not at all desirable, you had better propose something.' So I suggested that he should take a good long breath, and trust himself to me. "'Might we not make a large bag of cocoa-nut cloth, into which I could shove my head, and tie it tight round my neck?' he asked, with a haggard smile. 'It might let me get one breath under water!' "'No use,' said I; 'it would fill in a moment and suffocate you. I see nothing for it, Peterkin, if you really can't keep your breath so long, but to let me knock you down, and carry you out while in a state of insensibility.' "But Peterkin didn't relish this idea. He seemed to fear that I could not be able to measure the exact force of the blow, and might, on the one hand, hit him so softly as to render a second or third blow necessary, which would be very uncomfortable; or, on the other hand, give him such a smash as would entirely spoil his figure-head, or, mayhap, knock the life out of him altogether! At last I got him persuaded to try to hold his breath, and commit himself to me; so he agreed, and down we went. But I had not got him half way through, when he began to struggle and kick like a wild bull, burst from my grasp, and hit against the roof of the tunnel. I was therefore, obliged to force him violently back into the cave gain, where he rose panting to the surface. In short, he had lost his presence of mind, and--" "Nothing of the sort," cried Peterkin, indignantly, "I had only lost my wind; and if I had not had presence of mind enough to kick as I did, I should have bu'st in your arms!" "Well, well, so be it," resumed Jack, with a smile, "but the upshot of it was, that we had to hold another consultation on the point, and I really believe that, had it not been for a happy thought of mine, we should have been consulting there yet." "I wish we had," again interrupted Peterkin with a sigh. "I'm sure, Ralph, if I had thought that you were coming back again, I would willingly have awaited your return for months, rather than have endured the mental agony which I went through! But proceed." "The thought was this," continued Jack, "that I should tie Peterkin's hands and feet with cords, and then lash him firmly to a stout pole about five feet long, in order to render him quite powerless, and keep him straight and stiff. You should have seen his face of horror, Ralph, when I suggested this: but he came to see that it was his only chance, and told me to set about it as fast as I could; 'for,' said he, 'this is no jokin', Jack, _I_ can tell you, and the sooner it's done the better.' I soon procured the cordage and a suitable pole, with which I returned to the cave, and lashed him as stiff and straight as an Egyptian mummy; and, to say truth, he was no bad representation of what an English mummy would be, if there were such things, for he was as white as a dead man." "'Now,' said Peterkin, in a tremulous voice, 'swim with me as near to the edge of the hole as you can before you dive, then let me take a long breath, and, as I sha'nt be able to speak after I've taken it, you'll watch my face, and the moment you see me wink--dive! And oh!' he added, earnestly, 'pray don't be long!' "I promised to pay the strictest attention to his wishes, and swam with him to the outlet of the cave. Here I paused. 'Now then,' said I, 'pull away at the wind, lad.'" Peterkin drew in a breath so long that I could not help thinking of the frog in the fable, that wanted to swell itself as big as the ox. Then I looked into his face earnestly. Slap went the lid of his right eye; down went my head, and up went my heels. We shot through the passage like an arrow, and rose to the surface of the open sea before you could count twenty! "Peterkin had taken in such an awful load of wind that, on reaching the free air, he let it out with a yell loud enough to have been heard a mile off, and then, the change in his feelings was so sudden and great, that he did not wait till we landed, but began, tied up as he was, to shout and sing for joy as I supported him with my left arm to the shore. However, in the middle of a laugh that a hyaena might have envied, I let him accidentally slip, which extinguished him in a moment. "After this happy deliverance, we immediately began our search for your dead body, Ralph, and you have no idea how low our hearts sank as we set off, day after day, to examine the valleys and mountain sides with the utmost care. In about three weeks we completed the survey of the whole island, and had at least the satisfaction of knowing that you had not been killed. But it occurred to us that you might have been thrown into the sea, so we examined the sands and the lagoon carefully, and afterwards went all round the outer reef. One day, while we were upon the reef, Peterkin espied a small dark object lying among the rocks, which seemed to be quite different from the surrounding stones. We hastened towards the spot, and found it to be a small keg. On knocking out the head we discovered that it was gunpowder." "It was I who sent you that, Jack," said I, with a smile. "Fork out!" cried Peterkin, energetically, starting to his feet and extending his open hand to Jack. "Down with the money, sir, else I'll have you shut up for life in a debtor's prison the moment we return to England!" "I'll give you an I.O.U. in the meantime," returned Jack, laughing, "so sit down and be quiet. The fact is, Ralph, when we discovered this keg of powder, Peterkin immediately took me a bet of a thousand pounds that you had something to do with it, and I took him a bet of ten thousand that you had not. "Peterkin was right then," said I, explaining how the thing had occurred. "Well, we found it very useful," continued Jack; "although some of it had got a little damp; and we furbished up the old pistol, with which Peterkin is a crack shot now. But, to continue. We did not find any other vestige of you on the reef, and, finally, gave up all hope of ever seeing you again. After this the island became a dreary place to us, and we began to long for a ship to heave in sight and take us off. But now that you're back again, my dear fellow, it looks as bright and cheerful as it used to do, and I love it as much as ever." "And now," continued Jack, "I have a great desire to visit some of the other islands of the South Seas. Here we have a first-rate schooner at our disposal, so I don't see what should hinder us." "Just the very thing I was going to propose," cried Peterkin; "I vote for starting at once." "Well, then," said Jack, "it seems to me that we could not do better than shape our course for the island on which Avatea lives, and endeavour to persuade Tararo to let her marry the black fellow to whom she is engaged, instead of making a long pig of her. If he has a spark of gratitude in him he'll do it. Besides, having become champions for this girl once before, it behoves us, as true knights, not to rest until we set her free; at least, all the heroes in all the story-books I have ever read would count it foul disgrace to leave such a work unfinished." "I'm sure I don't know, or care, what your knights in story-books would do," said Peterkin, "but I'm certain that it would be capital fun, so I'm your man whenever you want me." This plan of Jack's was quite in accordance with his romantic, impulsive nature; and, having made up his mind to save this black girl, he could not rest until the thing was commenced. "But there may be great danger in this attempt," he said, at the end of a long consultation on the subject; "will you, lads, go with me in spite of this?" "Go with you?" we repeated in the same breath. "Can you doubt it?" said I. "For a moment," added Peterkin. I need scarcely say that, having made up our minds to go on this enterprise, we lost no time in making preparations to quit the island; and as the schooner was well laden with stores of every kind for a long cruise, we had little to do except to add to our abundant supply a quantity of cocoa-nuts, bread-fruit, taro, yams, plums, and potatoes, chiefly with the view of carrying the fragrance of our dear island along with us as long as we could. When all was ready, we paid a farewell visit to the different familiar spots where most of our time had been spent. We ascended the mountain top, and gazed for the last time at the rich green foliage in the valleys, the white sandy beach, the placid lagoon, and the barrier coral- reef with its crested breakers. Then we descended to Spouting Cliff, and looked down at the pale-green monster which we had made such fruitless efforts to spear in days gone by. From this we hurried to the Water Garden and took a last dive into its clear waters, and a last gambol amongst its coral groves. I hurried out before my companions, and dressed in haste, in order to have a long examination of my tank, which Peterkin, in the fulness of his heart, had tended with the utmost care, as being a vivid remembrancer of me, rather than out of love for natural history. It was in superb condition;--the water as clear and pellucid as crystal; the red and green sea-weed of the most brilliant hues; the red, purple, yellow, green, and striped anemones fully expanded, and stretching out their arms as if to welcome and embrace their former master; the starfish, zoophytes, sea-pens, and other innumerable marine insects, looking fresh and beautiful; and the crabs, as Peterkin said, looking as wide awake, impertinent, rampant, and pugnacious as ever. It was indeed so lovely and so interesting that I would scarcely allow myself to be torn away from it. Last of all, we returned to the bower and collected the few articles we possessed, such as the axe, the pencil-case, the broken telescope, the pen-knife, the hook made from the brass ring, and the sail-needle, with which we had landed on the island;--also, the long boots and the pistol, besides several curious articles of costume which we had manufactured from time to time. These we conveyed on board in our little boat, after having carved our names on a chip of iron-wood, thus:-- JACK MARTIN, RALPH ROVER, PETERKIN GAY, which we fixed up inside of the bower. The boat was then hoisted on board and the anchor weighed; which latter operation cost us great labour and much time, as the anchor was so heavy that we could not move it without the aid of my complex machinery of blocks and pulleys. A steady breeze was blowing off shore when we set sail, at a little before sunset. It swept us quickly past the reef and out to sea. The shore grew rapidly more indistinct as the shades of evening fell, while our clipper bark bounded lightly over the waves. Slowly the mountain top sank on the horizon, until it became a mere speck. In another moment the sun and the Coral Island sank together into the broad bosom of the Pacific. CHAPTER XXX. The voyage--The island, and a consultation in which danger is scouted as a thing unworthy of consideration--Rats and cats--The native teacher--Awful revelations--Wonderful effects of Christianity. Our voyage during the next two weeks was most interesting and prosperous. The breeze continued generally fair, and at all times enabled us to lie our course; for being, as I have said before, clipper-built, the pirate schooner could lie very close to the wind, and made little lee-way. We had no difficulty now in managing our sails, for Jack was heavy and powerful, while Peterkin was active as a kitten. Still, however, we were a very insufficient crew for such a vessel, and if any one had proposed to us to make such a voyage in it before we had been forced to go through so many hardships from necessity, we would have turned away with pity from the individual making such proposal as from a madman. I pondered this a good deal, and at last concluded that men do not know how much they are capable of doing till they try, and that we should never give way to despair in any undertaking, however difficult it may seem:--always supposing, however, that our cause is a good one, and that we can ask the divine blessing on it. Although, therefore, we could now manage our sails easily, we nevertheless found that my pulleys were of much service to us in some things; though Jack did laugh heartily at the uncouth arrangement of ropes and blocks, which had, to a sailor's eye, a very lumbering and clumsy appearance. But I will not drag my reader through the details of this voyage. Suffice it to say, that, after an agreeable sail of about three weeks, we arrived off the island of Mango, which I recognised at once from the description that the pirate, Bill, had given me of it during one of our conversations. As soon as we came within sight of it we hove the ship to, and held a council of war. "Now, boys," said Jack, as we seated ourselves beside him on the cabin sky-light, "before we go farther in this business, we must go over the pros and cons of it; for, although you have so generously consented to stick by me through thick and thin, it would be unfair did I not see that you thoroughly understand the danger of what we are about to attempt." "Oh! bother the danger," cried Peterkin; "I wonder to hear _you_, Jack, talk of danger. When a fellow begins to talk about it, he'll soon come to magnify it to such a degree that he'll not be fit to face it when it comes, no more than a suckin' baby!" "Nay, Peterkin," replied Jack, gravely, "I won't be jested out of it. I grant you, that, when we've once resolved to act, and have made up our minds what to do, we should think no more of danger. But, before we have so resolved, it behoves us to look at it straight in the face, and examine into it, and walk round it; for if we flinch at a distant view, we're sure to run away when the danger is near. Now, I understand from you, Ralph, that the island is inhabited by thorough-going, out-and-out cannibals, whose principal law is--'Might is right, and the weakest goes to the wall?'" "Yes," said I, "so Bill gave me to understand. He told me, however, that, at the southern side of it, the missionaries had obtained a footing amongst an insignificant tribe. A native teacher had been sent there by the Wesleyans, who had succeeded in persuading the chief at that part to embrace Christianity. But instead of that being of any advantage to our enterprise, it seems the very reverse; for the chief Tararo is a determined heathen, and persecutes the Christians,--who are far too weak in numbers to offer any resistance,--and looks with dislike upon all white men, whom he regards as propagators of the new faith." "'Tis a pity," said Jack, "that the Christian tribe is so small, for we shall scarcely be safe under their protection, I fear. If Tararo takes it into his head to wish for our vessel, or to kill ourselves, he could take us from them by force. You say that the native missionary talks English?" "So I believe." "Then, what I propose is this," said Jack: "We will run round to the south side of the island, and cut anchor off the Christian village. We are too far away just now to have been descried by any of the savages, so we shall get there unobserved, and have time to arrange our plans before the heathen tribes know of our presence. But, in doing this, we run the risk of being captured by the ill-disposed tribes, and being very ill used, if not--a--" "Roasted alive and eaten," cried Peterkin. "Come, out with it, Jack; according to your own showing, it's well to look the danger straight in the face!" "Well, that is the worst of it, certainly. Are you prepared, then, to take your chance of that?" "I've been prepared and had my mind made up long ago," cried Peterkin, swaggering about the deck with his hands thrust into his breeches' pockets. "The fact is, Jack, I don't believe that Tararo will be so ungrateful as to eat us; and I'm quite sure that he'll be too happy to grant us whatever we ask: so the sooner we go in and win the better." Peterkin was wrong, however, in his estimate of savage gratitude, as the sequel will show. The schooner was now put before the wind, and, after making a long run to the south'ard, we put about and beat up for the south side of Mango, where we arrived before sunset, and hove-to off the coral reef. Here we awaited the arrival of a canoe, which immediately put off on our rounding to. When it arrived, a mild-looking native, of apparently forty years of age, came on board, and, taking off his straw hat, made us a low bow. He was clad in a respectable suit of European clothes; and the first words he uttered, as he stepped up to Jack and shook hands with him, were,-- "Good day, gentlemen; we are happy to see you at Mango--you are heartily welcome." After returning his salutation, Jack exclaimed, "You must be the native missionary teacher of whom I have heard--are you not?" "I am. I have the joy to be a servant of the Lord Jesus at this station." "You're the very man I want to see, then," replied Jack; "that's lucky. Come down to the cabin, friend, and have a glass of wine. I wish particularly to speak with you. My men there" (pointing to Peterkin and me) "will look after your people." "Thank you," said the teacher, as he followed Jack to the cabin, "I do not drink wine or any strong drink." "Oh! then, there's lots of water, and you can have biscuit." "Now, 'pon my word, that's cool!" said Peterkin; "his _men_, forsooth! Well, since we are to be men, we may as well come it as strong over these black chaps as we can. Hallo, there!" he cried to the half dozen of natives who stood upon the deck, gazing in wonder at all they saw, "here's for you;" and he handed them a tray of broken biscuit and a can of water. Then, thrusting his hands into his pockets, he walked up and down the deck with an enormous swagger, whistling vociferously. In about half an hour Jack and the teacher came on deck, and the latter, bidding us a cheerful good evening, entered his canoe and paddled to the shore. When he was gone, Peterkin stepped up to Jack, and, touching his cap, said,-- "Well, captain, have you any communications to make to your _men_?" "Yes," cried Jack; "ready about, mind the helm and clew up your tongue, while I con the schooner through the passage in the reef. The teacher, who seems a first-rate fellow, says it's quite deep, and good anchorage within the lagoon close to the shore." While the vessel was slowly advancing to her anchorage, under a light breeze, Jack explained to us that Avatea was still on the island, living amongst the heathens; that she had expressed a strong desire to join the Christians, but Tararo would not let her, and kept her constantly in close confinement. "Moreover," continued Jack, "I find that she belongs to one of the Samoan Islands, where Christianity had been introduced long before her capture by the heathens of a neighbouring island; and the very day after she was taken, she was to have joined the church which had been planted there by that excellent body, the London Missionary Society. The teacher tells me, too, that the poor girl has fallen in love with a Christian chief, who lives on an island some fifty miles or so to the south of this one, and that she is meditating a desperate attempt at escape. So, you see, we have come in the nick of time. I fancy that this chief is the fellow whom you heard of, Ralph, at the Island of Emo. Besides all this, the heathen savages are at war among themselves, and there's to be a battle fought the day after to-morrow, in which the principal leader is Tararo; so that we'll not be able to commence our negotiations with the rascally chief till the day after." The village off which we anchored was beautifully situated at the head of a small bay, from the margin of which trees of every description peculiar to the tropics rose in the richest luxuriance to the summit of a hilly ridge, which was the line of demarcation between the possessions of the Christians and those of the neighbouring heathen chief. The site of the settlement was an extensive plot of flat land, stretching in a gentle slope from the sea to the mountain. The cottages stood several hundred yards from the beach, and were protected from the glare of the sea by the rich foliage of rows of large Barringtonia and other trees, which girt the shore. The village was about a mile in length, and perfectly straight, with a wide road down the middle, on either side of which were rows of the tufted-topped ti tree, whose delicate and beautiful blossoms, hanging beneath their plume-crested tops, added richness to the scene. The cottages of the natives were built beneath these trees, and were kept in the most excellent order, each having a little garden in front, tastefully laid out and planted, while the walks were covered with black and white pebbles. Every house had doors and Venetian windows, painted partly with lamp black made from the candle-nut, and partly with red ochre, which contrasted powerfully with the dazzling coral lime that covered the walls. On a prominent position stood a handsome church, which was quite a curiosity in its way. It was a hundred feet long by fifty broad, and was seated throughout to accommodate upwards of two thousand persons. It had six large folding doors and twelve windows with Venetian blinds; and, although a large and substantial edifice, it had been built, we were told by the teacher, in the space of two months! There was not a single iron nail in the fabric, and the natives had constructed it chiefly with their stone and bone axes and other tools, having only one or two axes or tools of European manufacture. Everything around this beautiful spot wore an aspect of peace and plenty, and, as we dropped our anchor within a stone's cast of the substantial coral wharf, I could not avoid contrasting it with the wretched village of Emo, where I had witnessed so many frightful scenes. When the teacher afterwards told me that the people of this tribe had become converts only a year previous to our arrival, and that they had been living before that in the practice of the most bloody system of idolatry, I could not refrain from exclaiming, "What a convincing proof that Christianity is of God!" On landing from our little boat, we were received with a warm welcome by the teacher and his wife; the latter being also a native, clothed in a simple European gown and straw bonnet. The shore was lined with hundreds of natives, whose persons were all more or less clothed with native cloth. Some of the men had on a kind of poncho formed of this cloth, their legs being uncovered. Others wore clumsily-fashioned trousers, and no upper garment except hats made of straw and cloth. Many of the dresses, both of women and men, were grotesque enough, being very bad imitations of the European garb; but all wore a dress of some sort or other. They seemed very glad to see us, and crowded round us as the teacher led the way to his dwelling, where we were entertained, in the most sumptuous manner, on baked pig and all the varieties of fruits and vegetables that the island produced. We were much annoyed, however, by the rats: they seemed to run about the house like domestic animals. As we sat at table, one of them peeped up at us over the edge of the cloth, close to Peterkin's elbow, who floored it with a blow on the snout from his knife, exclaiming as he did so-- "I say, Mister Teacher, why don't you set traps for these brutes?--surely you are not fond of them!" "No," replied the teacher, with a smile; "we would be glad to get rid of them if we could; but if we were to trap all the rats on the island, it would occupy our whole time." "Are they, then, so numerous?" inquired Jack. "They swarm everywhere. The poor heathens on the north side eat them, and think them very sweet. So did my people formerly; but they do not eat so many now, because the missionary who was last here expressed disgust at it. The poor people asked if it was wrong to eat rats; and he told them that it was certainly not wrong, but that the people of England would be much disgusted were they asked to eat rats." We had not been an hour in the house of this kind-hearted man when we were convinced of the truth of his statement as to their numbers, for the rats ran about the floors in dozens, and, during our meal, two men were stationed at the table to keep them off! "What a pity you have no cats," said Peterkin, as he aimed a blow at another reckless intruder, and missed it. "We would, indeed, be glad to have a few," rejoined the teacher, "but they are difficult to be got. The hogs, we find, are very good rat-killers, but they do not seem to be able to keep the numbers down. I have heard that they are better than cats." As the teacher said this, his good-natured black face was wrinkled with a smile of merriment. Observing that I had noticed it, he said:-- "I smiled just now when I remembered the fate of the first cat that was taken to Raratonga. This is one of the stations of the London Missionary Society. It, like our own, is infested with rats, and a cat was brought at last to the island. It was a large black one. On being turned loose, instead of being content to stay among men, the cat took to the mountains, and lived in a wild state, sometimes paying visits during the night to the houses of the natives; some of whom, living at a distance from the settlement, had not heard of the cat's arrival, and were dreadfully frightened in consequence, calling it a 'monster of the deep,' and flying in terror away from it. One night the cat, feeling a desire for company, I suppose, took its way to the house of a chief, who had recently been converted to Christianity, and had begun to learn to read and pray. The chief's wife, who was sitting awake at his side while he slept, beheld with horror two fires glistening in the doorway, and heard with surprise a mysterious voice. Almost petrified with fear, she awoke her husband, and began to upbraid him for forsaking his old religion, and burning his god, who, she declared, was now come to be avenged of them. 'Get up and pray! get up and pray!' she cried. The chief arose, and, on opening his eyes, beheld the same glaring lights, and heard the same ominous sound. Impelled by the extreme urgency of the case, he commenced, with all possible vehemence, to vociferate the alphabet, as a prayer to God to deliver them from the vengeance of Satan! On hearing this, the cat, as much alarmed as themselves, fled precipitately away, leaving the chief and his wife congratulating themselves on the efficacy of their prayer." We were much diverted with this anecdote, which the teacher related in English so good, that we certainly could not have supposed him a native but for the colour of his face and the foreign accent in his tone. Next day we walked out with this interesting man, and were much entertained and instructed by his conversation, as we rambled through the cool shady groves of bananas, citrons, limes, and other trees, or sauntered among the cottages of the natives, and watched them while they laboured diligently in the taro beds, or manufactured the tapa or native cloth. To some of these Jack put questions through the medium of the missionary; and the replies were such as to surprise us at the extent of their knowledge. Indeed, Peterkin very truly remarked that "they seemed to know a considerable deal more than Jack himself!" Among other pieces of interesting information that we obtained was the following, in regard to coral formations:-- "The islands of the Pacific," said our friend, "are of three different kinds or classes. Those of the first class are volcanic, mountainous, and wild; some shooting their jagged peaks into the clouds at an elevation of ten and fifteen thousand feet. Those of the second class are of crystalized limestone, and vary in height from one hundred to five hundred feet. The hills on these are not so wild or broken as those of the first class, but are richly clothed with vegetation, and very beautiful. I have no doubt that the Coral Island on which you were wrecked was one of this class. They are supposed to have been upheaved from the bottom of the sea by volcanic agency, but they are not themselves volcanic in their nature, neither are they of coral formation. Those of the third class are the low coralline islands usually having lagoons of water in their midst; they are very numerous. "As to the manner in which coral islands and reefs are formed; there are various opinions on this point. I will give you what seems to me the most probable theory,--a theory, I may add, which is held by some of the good and scientific missionaries. It is well known that there is much lime in salt water; it is also known that coral is composed of lime. It is supposed that the polypes, or coral insects, have the power of attracting this lime to their bodies; and with this material they build their little cells or habitations. They choose the summit of a volcano, or the top of a submarine mountain, as a foundation on which to build; for it is found that they never work at any great depth below the surface. On this they work; the polypes on the mountain top, of course, reach the surface first, then those at the outer edges reach the top sooner than the others between them and the centre, thus forming the coral reef surrounding the lagoon of water and the central island; after that the insects within the lagoon cease working. When the surface of the water is reached, these myriads of wonderful creatures die. Then birds visit the spot, and seeds are thus conveyed thither, which take root, and spring up, and flourish. Thus are commenced those coralline islets of which you have seen so many in these seas. The reefs round the large islands are formed in a similar manner. When we consider," added the missionary, "the smallness of the architects used by our heavenly Father in order to form those lovely and innumerable islands, we are filled with much of that feeling which induced the ancient king to exclaim, 'How manifold, O God, are thy works! in wisdom thou hast made them all.'" We all heartily agreed with the missionary in this sentiment, and felt not a little gratified to find that the opinions which Jack and I had been led to form from personal observation on our Coral Island were thus to a great extent corroborated. The missionary also gave us an account of the manner in which Christianity had been introduced among them. He said: "When missionaries were first sent here, three years ago, a small vessel brought them; and the chief, who is now dead, promised to treat well the two native teachers who were left with their wives on the island. But scarcely had the boat which landed them returned to the ship, than the natives began to maltreat their guests, taking away all they possessed, and offering them further violence, so that, when the boat was sent in haste to fetch them away, the clothes of both men and women were torn nearly off their backs. "Two years after this the vessel visited them again, and I, being in her, volunteered to land alone, without any goods whatever; begging that my wife might be brought to me the following year,--that is, _this_ year; and, as you see, she is with me. But the surf was so high that the boat could not land me; so with nothing on but my trousers and shirt, and with a few catechisms and a Bible, besides some portions of the Scripture translated into the Mango tongue, I sprang into the sea, and swam ashore on the crest of a breaker. I was instantly dragged up the beach by the natives; who, on finding I had nothing worth having upon me, let me alone. I then made signs to my friends in the ship to leave me; which they did. At fist the natives listened to me in silence, but laughed at what I said while I preached the gospel of our blessed Saviour Jesus Christ to them. Afterwards they treated me ill sometimes; but I persevered, and continued to dwell among them, and dispute, and exhort them to give up their sinful ways of life, burn their idols, and come to Jesus. "About a month after I landed, I heard that the chief was dead. He was the father of the present chief, who is now a most consistent member of the church. It is a custom here that, when a chief dies, his wives are strangled and buried with him. Knowing this, I hastened to his house to endeavour to prevent such cruelty if possible. When I arrived, I found two of the wives had already been killed, while another was in the act of being strangled. I pleaded hard for her, but it was too late; she was already dead. I then entreated the son to spare the fourth wife; and, after much hesitation, my prayer was granted: but, in half an hour afterwards, this poor woman repented of being unfaithful, as she termed it, to her husband, and insisted on being strangled; which was accordingly done. "All this time the chief's son was walking up and down before his father's house with a brow black as thunder. When he entered, I went in with him, and found, to my surprise, that his father was not dead! The old man was sitting on a mat in a corner, with an expression of placid resignation on his face. "'Why,' said I, 'have you strangled your father's wives before he is dead?' "To this the son replied, 'He is dead. That is no longer my father. He is as good as dead now. He is to be _buried alive_.' "I now remembered having heard that it is a custom among the Feejee islanders, that when the reigning chief grows old or infirm, the heir to the chieftainship has a right to depose his father; in which case he is considered as dead, and is buried alive. The young chief was now about to follow this custom, and, despite my earnest entreaties and pleadings, the old chief was buried that day before my eyes in the same grave with his four strangled wives! Oh! my heart groaned when I saw this, and I prayed to God to open the hearts of these poor creatures, as he had already opened mine, and pour into them the light and the love of the gospel of Jesus. My prayer was answered very soon. A week afterwards, the son, who was now chief of the tribe, came to me, bearing his god on his shoulders, and groaning beneath its weight. Flinging it down at my feet, he desired me to burn it! "You may conceive how overjoyed I was at this. I sprang up and embraced him, while I shed tears of joy. Then we made a fire, and burned the god to ashes, amid an immense concourse of the people, who seemed terrified at what was being done, and shrank back when we burned the god, expecting some signal vengeance to be taken upon us; but seeing that nothing happened, they changed their minds, and thought that our God must be the true one after all. From that time the mission prospered steadily, and now, while there is not a single man in the tribe who has not burned his household gods, and become a convert to Christianity, there are not a few, I hope, who are true followers of the Lamb, having been plucked as brands from the burning by Him who can save unto the uttermost. I will not tell you more of our progress at this time, but you see," he said, waving his hand around him, "the village and the church did not exist a year ago!" We were indeed much interested in this account, and I could not help again in my heart praying God to prosper those missionary societies that send such inestimable blessings to these islands of dark and bloody idolatry. The teacher also added that the other tribes were very indignant at this one for having burned its gods, and threatened to destroy it altogether, but they had done nothing yet; "and if they should," said the teacher, "the Lord is on our side; of whom shall we be afraid?" "Have the missionaries many stations in these seas?" inquired Jack. "Oh, yes. The London Missionary Society have a great many in the Tahiti group, and other islands in that quarter. Then the Wesleyans have the Feejee Islands all to themselves, and the Americans have many stations in other groups. But still, my friend, there are hundreds of islands here the natives of which have never heard of Jesus, or the good word of God, or the Holy Spirit; and thousands are living and dying in the practice of those terrible sins and bloody murders of which you have already heard. I trust, my friends," he added, looking earnestly into our faces, "I trust that if you ever return to England, you will tell your Christian friends that the horrors which they hear of in regard to these islands are _literally true_, and that when they have heard the worst, the '_half has not been told them_;' for there are perpetrated here foul deeds of darkness of which man may not speak. You may also tell them," he said, looking around with a smile, while a tear of gratitude trembled in his eye and rolled down his coal-black cheek,--"tell them of the blessings that the gospel has wrought _here_!" We assured our friend that we would certainly not forget his request. On returning towards the village, about noon, we remarked on the beautiful whiteness of the cottages. "That is owing to the lime with which they are plastered," said the teacher. "When the natives were converted, as I have described, I set them to work to build cottages for themselves, and also this handsome church which you see. When the framework and other parts of the houses were up, I sent the people to fetch coral from the sea. They brought immense quantities. Then I made them cut wood, and, piling the coral above it, set it on fire. "'Look! look!' cried the poor people, in amazement; 'what wonderful people the Christians are! He is roasting stones. We shall not need taro or bread-fruit any more; we may eat stones!' "But their surprise was still greater when the coral was reduced to a fine soft white powder. They immediately set up a great shout, and, mingling the lime with water, rubbed their faces and their bodies all over with it, and ran through the village screaming with delight. They were also much surprised at another thing they saw me do. I wished to make some household furniture, and constructed a turning-lathe to assist me. The first thing that I turned was the leg of a sofa; which was no sooner finished than the chief seized it with wonder and delight, and ran through the village exhibiting it to the people, who looked upon it with great admiration. The chief then, tying a string to it, hung it round his neck as an ornament! He afterwards told me that if he had seen it before he became a Christian he would have made it his god!" As the teacher concluded this anecdote we reached his door. Saying that he had business to attend to, he left us to amuse ourselves as we best could. "Now, lads," said Jack, turning abruptly towards us, and buttoning up his jacket as he spoke, "I'm off to see the battle. I've no particular fondness for seein' blood-shed, but I must find out the nature o' these fellows and see their customs with my own eyes, so that I may be able to speak of it again, if need be, authoritatively. It's only six miles off, and we don't run much more risk than that of getting a rap with a stray stone or an over-shot arrow. Will you go?" "To be sure we will," said Peterkin. "If they chance to see us we'll cut and run for it," added Jack. "Dear me!" cried Peterkin,--"_you_ run! thought you would scorn to run from any one." "So I would, if it were my duty to fight," returned Jack, coolly; "but as I don't want to fight, and don't intend to fight, if they offer to attack us I'll run away like the veriest coward that ever went by the name of Peterkin. So come along." CHAPTER XXXI. A strange and bloody battle--The lion bearded in his den--Frightful scenes of cruelty, and fears for the future. We had ascertained from the teacher the direction to the spot on which the battle was to be fought, and after a walk of two hours reached it. The summit of a bare hill was the place chosen; for, unlike most of the other islanders, who are addicted to bush-fighting, those of Mango are in the habit of meeting on open ground. We arrived before the two parties had commenced the deadly struggle, and, creeping as close up as we dared among the rocks, we lay and watched them. The combatants were drawn up face to face, each side ranged in rank four deep. Those in the first row were armed with long spears; the second, with clubs to defend the spearmen; the third row was composed of young men with slings; and the fourth consisted of women, who carried baskets of stones for the slingers, and clubs and spears with which to supply the warriors. Soon after we arrived, the attack was made with great fury. There was no science displayed. The two bodies of savages rushed headlong upon each other and engaged in a general _melee_, and a more dreadful set of men I have never seen. They wore grotesque war-caps made of various substances and decorated with feathers. Their faces and bodies were painted so as to make them look as frightful as possible; and as they brandished their massive clubs, leaped, shouted, yelled, and dashed each other to the ground, I thought I had never seen men look so like demons before. We were much surprised at the conduct of the women, who seemed to be perfect furies, and hung about the heels of their husbands in order to defend them. One stout young women we saw, whose husband was hard pressed and about to be overcome: she lifted a large stone, and throwing it at his opponent's head, felled him to the earth. But the battle did not last long. The band most distant from us gave way and were routed, leaving eighteen of their comrades dead upon the field. These the victors brained as they lay; and putting some of their brains on leaves went off with them, we were afterwards informed, to their temples, to present them to their gods as an earnest of the human victims who were soon to be brought there. We hastened back to the Christian village with feelings of the deepest sadness at the sanguinary conflict which we had just witnessed. Next day, after breakfasting with our friend the teacher, we made preparations for carrying out our plan. At first the teacher endeavoured to dissuade us. "You do not know," said he, turning to Jack, "the danger you run in venturing amongst these ferocious savages. I feel much pity for poor Avatea; but you are not likely to succeed in saving her, and you may die in the attempt." "Well," said Jack, quietly, "I am not afraid to die in a good cause." The teacher smiled approvingly at him as he said this, and after a little further conversation agreed to accompany us as interpreter; saying that, although Tararo was unfriendly to him, he had hitherto treated him with respect. We now went on board the schooner, having resolved to sail round the island and drop anchor opposite the heathen village. We manned her with natives, and hoped to overawe the savages by displaying our brass gun to advantage. The teacher soon after came on board, and setting our sails we put to sea. In two hours more we made the cliffs reverberate with the crash of the big gun, which we fired by way of salute, while we ran the British ensign up to the peak and cast anchor. The commotion on shore showed us that we had struck terror into the hearts of the natives; but seeing that we did not offer to molest them, a canoe at length put off and paddled cautiously towards us. The teacher showed himself, and explaining that we were friends and wished to palaver with the chief, desired the native to go and tell him to come on board. We waited long and with much impatience for an answer. During this time the native teacher conversed with us again, and told us many things concerning the success of the gospel among those islands; and perceiving that we were by no means so much gratified as we ought to have been at the hearing of such good news, he pressed us more closely in regard to our personal interest in religion, and exhorted us to consider that our souls were certainly in as great danger as those of the wretched heathen whom we pitied so much, if we had not already found salvation in Jesus Christ. "Nay, further," he added, "if such be your unhappy case, you are, in the sight of God, much worse than these savages (forgive me, my young friends, for saying so); for they have no knowledge, no light, and do not profess to believe; while you, on the contrary, have been brought up in the light of the blessed gospel and call yourselves Christians. These poor savages are indeed the enemies of our Lord; but you, if ye be not true believers, are traitors!" I must confess that my heart condemned me while the teacher spoke in this earnest manner, and I knew not what to reply. Peterkin, too, did not seem to like it, and I thought would willingly have escaped; but Jack seemed deeply impressed, and wore an anxious expression on his naturally grave countenance, while he assented to the teacher's remarks and put to him many earnest questions. Meanwhile the natives who composed our crew, having nothing particular to do, had squatted down on the deck and taken out their little books containing the translated portions of the New Testament, along with hymns and spelling-books, and were now busily engaged, some vociferating the alphabet, others learning prayers off by heart, while a few sang hymns,--all of them being utterly unmindful of our presence. The teacher soon joined them, and soon afterwards they all engaged in a prayer which was afterwards translated to us, and proved to be a petition for the success of our undertaking and for the conversion of the heathen. While we were thus engaged a canoe put off from shore and several savages leaped on deck, one of whom advanced to the teacher and informed him that Tararo could not come on board that day, being busy with some religious ceremonies before the gods, which could on no account be postponed. He was also engaged with a friendly chief who was about to take his departure from the island, and therefore begged that the teacher and his friends would land and pay a visit to him. To this the teacher returned answer that we would land immediately. "Now, lads," said Jack, as we were about to step into our little boat, "I'm not going to take any weapons with me, and I recommend you to take none either. We are altogether in the power of these savages, and the utmost we could do, if they were to attack us, would be to kill a few of them before we were ourselves overpowered. I think that our only chance of success lies in mild measures. Don't you think so?" To this I assented gladly, and Peterkin replied by laying down a huge bell-mouthed blunderbuss, and divesting himself of a pair of enormous horse-pistols with which he had purposed to overawe the natives! We then jumped into our boat and rowed ashore. On reaching the beach we were received by a crowd of naked savages, who shouted a rude welcome, and conducted us to a house or shed where a baked pig and a variety of vegetables were prepared for us. Having partaken of these, the teacher begged to be conducted to the chief; but there seemed some hesitation, and after some consultation among themselves, one of the men stood forward and spoke to the teacher. "What says he?" inquired Jack when the savage had concluded. "He says that the chief is just going to the temple of his god and cannot see us yet; so we must be patient, my friend." "Well," cried Jack, rising; "if he won't come to see me, I'll e'en go and see him. Besides, I have a great desire to witness their proceedings at this temple of theirs. Will you go with me, friend?" "I cannot," said the teacher, shaking his head; "I must not go to the heathen temples and witness their inhuman rites, except for the purpose of condemning their wickedness and folly." "Very good," returned Jack; "then I'll go alone, for I cannot condemn their doings till I have seen them." Jack arose, and we, having determined to go also, followed him through the banana groves to a rising ground immediately behind the village, on the top of which stood the Bure, or temple, under the dark shade of a group of iron-wood trees. As we went through the village, I was again led to contrast the rude huts and sheds, and their almost naked savage- looking inhabitants, with the natives of the Christian village, who, to use the teacher's scriptural expression, were now "clothed and in their right mind." As we turned into a broad path leading towards the hill, we were arrested by the shouts of an approaching multitude in the rear. Drawing aside into the bushes we awaited their coming up, and as they drew near we observed that it was a procession of the natives, many of whom were dancing and gesticulating in the most frantic manner. They had an exceedingly hideous aspect, owing to the black, red, and yellow paints with which their faces and naked bodies were bedaubed. In the midst of these came a band of men carrying three or four planks, on which were seated in rows upwards of a dozen men. I shuddered involuntarily as I recollected the sacrifice of human victims at the island of Emo, and turned with a look of fear to Jack as I said,-- "Oh, Jack! I have a terrible dread that they are going to commit some of their cruel practices on these wretched men. We had better not go to the temple. We shall only be horrified without being able to do any good, for I fear they are going to kill them." Jack's face wore an expression of deep compassion as he said, in a low voice, "No fear, Ralph; the sufferings of these poor fellows are over long ago." I turned with a start as he spoke, and, glancing at the men, who were now quite near to the spot where we stood, saw that they were all dead. They were tied firmly with ropes in a sitting posture on the planks, and seemed, as they bent their sightless eye-balls and grinning mouths over the dancing crew below, as if they were laughing in ghastly mockery at the utter inability of their enemies to hurt them now. These, we discovered afterwards, were the men who had been slain in the battle of the previous day, and were now on their way to be first presented to the gods, and then eaten. Behind these came two men leading between them a third, whose hands were pinioned behind his back. He walked with a firm step, and wore a look of utter indifference on his face, as they led him along; so that we concluded he must be a criminal who was about to receive some slight punishment for his faults. The rear of the procession was brought up by a shouting crowd of women and children, with whom we mingled and followed to the temple. Here we arrived in a few minutes. The temple was a tall circular building, open at one side. Around it were strewn heaps of human bones and skulls. At a table inside sat the priest, an elderly man, with a long gray beard. He was seated on a stool, and before him lay several knives, made of wood, bone, and splinters of bamboo, with which he performed his office of dissecting dead bodies. Farther in lay a variety of articles that had been dedicated to the god, and among them were many spears and clubs. I observed among the latter some with human teeth sticking in them, where the victims had been clubbed in their mouths. Before this temple the bodies, which were painted with vermilion and soot, were arranged in a sitting posture; and a man, called a "dan-vosa" (orator), advanced, and, laying his hands on their heads, began to chide them, apparently, in a low bantering tone. What he said we knew not, but, as he went on, he waxed warm, and at last shouted to them at the top of his lungs, and finally finished by kicking the bodies over and running away, amid the shouts and laughter of the people, who now rushed forward. Seizing the bodies by a leg, or an arm, or by the hair of the head, they dragged them over stumps and stones and through sloughs, until they were exhausted. The bodies were then brought back to the temple and dissected by the priest, after which they were taken out to be baked. Close to the temple a large fire was kindled, in which stones were heated red hot. When ready these were spread out on the ground, and a thick coating of leaves strewn over them to slack the heat. On this "lovo," or oven, the bodies were then placed, covered over, and left to bake. The crowd now ran, with terrible yells, towards a neighbouring hill or mound, on which we observed the frame-work of a house lying ready to be erected. Sick with horror, yet fascinated by curiosity, we staggered after them mechanically, scarce knowing where we were going or what we did, and feeling a sort of impression that all we saw was a dreadful dream. Arrived at the place, we saw the multitude crowding round a certain spot. We pressed forward and obtained a sight of what they were doing. A large wooden beam or post lay on the ground, beside the other parts of the frame-work of the house, and close to the end of it was a hole about seven feet deep and upwards of two feet wide. While we looked, the man whom we had before observed with his hands pinioned, was carried into the circle. His hands were now free, but his legs were tightly strapped together. The post of the house was then placed in the hole, and the man put in beside it. His head was a good way below the surface of the hole, and his arms were clasped round the post. Earth was now thrown in until all was covered over and stamped down; and this, we were afterwards told, was a _ceremony_ usually performed at the dedication of a new temple, or the erection of a chief's house! "Come, come," cried Jack, on beholding this horrible tragedy, "we have seen enough, enough, far more than enough! Let us go." Jack's face looked ghastly pale and haggard as we hurried back to rejoin the teacher, and I have no doubt that he felt terrible anxiety when he considered the number and ferocity of the savages, and the weakness of the few arms which were ready indeed to essay, but impotent to effect, Avatea's deliverance from these ruthless men. CHAPTER XXXII. An unexpected discovery, and a bold, reckless defiance, with its consequences--Plans of escape, and heroic resolves. When we returned to the shore, and related to our friend what had passed, he was greatly distressed, and groaned in spirit; but we had not sat long in conversation, when we were interrupted by the arrival of Tararo on the beach, accompanied by a number of followers bearing baskets of vegetables and fruits on their heads. We advanced to meet him, and he expressed, through our interpreter, much pleasure in seeing us. "And what is it that my friends wish to say to me?" he inquired. The teacher explained that we came to beg that Avatea might be spared. "Tell him," said Jack, "that I consider that I have a right to ask this of him, having not only saved the girl's life, but the lives of his own people also; and say that I wish her to be allowed to follow her own wishes, and join the Christians." While this was being translated, the chiefs brow lowered, and we could see plainly that our request met with no favourable reception. He replied with considerable energy, and at some length. "What says he?" inquired Jack. "I regret to say that he will not listen to the proposal. He says he has pledged his word to his friend that the girl shall be sent to him, and a deputy is even now on this island awaiting the fulfilment of the pledge." Jack bit his lip in suppressed anger. "Tell Tararo," he exclaimed with flashing eye, "that if he does not grant my demand, it will be worse for him. Say I have a big gun on board my schooner that will blow his village into the sea, if he does not give up the girl." "Nay, my friend," said the teacher, gently, "I will not tell him that; we must overcome evil with good.'" "What does my friend say?" inquired the chief, who seemed nettled by Jack's looks of defiance. "He is displeased," replied the teacher. Tararo turned away with a smile of contempt, and walked towards the men who carried the baskets of vegetables, and who had now emptied the whole on the beach in an enormous pile. "What are they doing there?" I inquired. "I think that they are laying out a gift which they intend to present to some one," said the teacher. At this moment a couple of men appeared leading a young girl between them; and, going towards the heap of fruits and vegetables, placed her on the top of it. We started with surprise and fear, for in the young female before us we recognised the Samoan girl, Avatea! We stood rooted to the earth with surprise and thick coming fears. "Oh! my dear young friend," whispered the teacher, in a voice of deep emotion, while he seized Jack by the arm, "she is to be made a sacrifice even now!" "Is she?" cried Jack, with a vehement shout, spurning the teacher aside, and dashing over two natives who stood in his way, while he rushed towards the heap, sprang up its side, and seized Avatea by the arm. In another moment he dragged her down, placed her back to a large tree, and, wrenching a war-club from the hand of a native who seemed powerless and petrified with surprise, whirled it above his head, and yelled, rather than shouted, while his face blazed with fury, "Come on, the whole nation of you, an ye like it, and do your worst!" It seemed as though the challenge had been literally accepted; for every savage on the ground ran precipitately at Jack with club and spear, and, doubtless, would speedily have poured out his brave blood on the sod, had not the teacher rushed in between them, and, raising his voice to its utmost, cried.-- "Stay your hands, warriors! It is not your part to judge in this matter. It is for Tararo, the chief, to say whether or not the young man shall live or die." The natives were arrested; and I know not whether it was the gratifying acknowledgment of his superiority thus made by the teacher, or some lingering feeling of gratitude for Jack's former aid in time of need, that influenced Tararo, but he stepped forward, and, waving his hand, said to his people,--"Desist. The young man's life is mine." Then, turning to Jack, he said, "You have forfeited your liberty and life to me. Submit yourself, for we are more numerous than the sand upon the shore. You are but one; why should you die?" "Villain!" exclaimed Jack, passionately, "I may die, but, assuredly, I shall not perish alone. I will not submit until you promise that this girl shall not be injured." "You are very bold," replied the chief, haughtily, "but very foolish. Yet I will say that Avatea shall not be sent away, at least for three days." "You had better accept these terms," whispered the teacher, entreatingly. "If you persist in this mad defiance, you will be slain, and Avatea will be lost. Three days are worth having." Jack hesitated a moment, then lowered his club, and, throwing it moodily to the ground, crossed his arms on his breast, and hung down his head in silence. Tararo seemed pleased by his submission, and told the teacher to say that he did not forget his former services, and, therefore, would leave him free as to his person, but that the schooner would be detained till he had further considered the matter. While the teacher translated this, he approached as near to where Avatea was standing as possible, without creating suspicion, and whispered to her a few words in the native language. Avatea, who, during the whole of the foregoing scene, had stood leaning against the tree perfectly passive, and seemingly quite uninterested in all that was going on, replied by a single rapid glance of her dark eye, which was instantly cast down again on the ground at her feet. Tararo now advanced, and taking the girl by the hand, led her unresistingly away, while Jack, Peterkin, and I returned with the teacher on board the schooner. On reaching the deck, we went down to the cabin, where Jack threw himself, in a state of great dejection, on a couch; but the teacher seated himself by his side, and, laying his hand upon his shoulder, said,-- "Do not give way to anger, my young friend. God has given us three days, and we must use the means that are in our power to free this poor girl from slavery. We must not sit in idle disappointment, we must act"-- "Act!" cried Jack, raising himself, and tossing back his hair wildly; "it is mockery to balk of acting when one is bound hand and foot. How can I act? I cannot fight a whole nation of savages single-handed. Yes," he said, with a bitter smile, "I can fight them, but I cannot conquer them, or save Avatea." "Patience, my friend; your spirit is not a good one just now. You cannot expect that blessing which alone can insure success, unless you are more submissive. I will tell you my plans if you will listen." "Listen!" cried Jack, eagerly, "of course I will, my good fellow; I did not know you had any plans. Out with them. I only hope you will show me how I can get the girl on board of this schooner, and I'd up anchor and away in no time. But proceed with your plans." The teacher smiled sadly: "Ah! my friend, if one fathom of your anchor chain were to rattle, as you drew it in, a thousand warriors would be standing on your deck. No, no, that could not be done. Even now, your ship would be taken from you were it not that Tararo has some feeling of gratitude toward you. But I know Tararo well. He is a man of falsehood, as all the unconverted savages are. The chief to whom he has promised this girl is very powerful, and Tararo _must_ fulfil his promise. He has told you that he would do nothing to the girl for three days; but that is because the party who are to take her away will not be ready to start for three days. Still, as he might have made you a prisoner during those three days, I say that God has given them to us." "Well, but what do you propose to do?" said Jack, impatiently. "My plan involves much danger, but I see no other, and I think you have courage to brave it. It is this: There is an island about fifty miles to the south of this, the natives of which are Christians, and have been so for two years or more, and the principal chief is Avatea's lover. Once there, Avatea would be safe. Now, I suggest that you should abandon your schooner. Do you think that you can make so great a sacrifice?" "Friend," replied Jack, "when I make up my mind to go through with a thing of importance, I can make any sacrifice." The teacher smiled. "Well, then, the savages could not conceive it possible that, for the sake of a girl, you would voluntarily lose your fine vessel; therefore as long as she lies here they think they have you all safe: so I suggest that we get a quantity of stores conveyed to a sequestered part of the shore, provide a small canoe, put Avatea on board, and you three would paddle to the Christian island." "Bravo!" cried Peterkin, springing up and seizing the teacher's hand. "Missionary, you're a regular brick. I didn't think you had so much in you." "As for me," continued the teacher, "I will remain on board till they discover that you are gone. Then they will ask me where you are gone to, and I will refuse to tell." "And what'll be the result of that?" inquired Jack. "I know not. Perhaps they will kill me; but," he added, looking at Jack with a peculiar smile, "I too am not afraid to die in a good cause!" "But how are we to get hold of Avatea?" inquired Jack. "I have arranged with her to meet us at a particular spot, to which I will guide you to-night. We shall then arrange about it. She will easily manage to elude her keepers, who are not very strict in watching her, thinking it impossible that she could escape from the island. Indeed, I am sure that such an idea will never enter their heads. But, as I have said, you run great danger. Fifty miles in a small canoe, on the open sea, is a great voyage to make. You may miss the island, too, in which case there is no other in that direction for a hundred miles or more; and if you lose your way and fall among other heathens, you know the law of Feejee--a cast-away who gains the shore is doomed to die. You must count the cost, my young friend." "I have counted it," replied Jack. "If Avatea consents to run the risk, most certainly I will; and so will my comrades also. Besides," added Jack, looking seriously into the teacher's face, "your Bible,--_our_ Bible, tells of ONE who delivers those who call on Him in the time of trouble; who holds the winds in his fists and the waters in the hollow of his hand." We now set about active preparations for the intended voyage; collected together such things as we should require, and laid out on the deck provisions sufficient to maintain us for several weeks, purposing to load the canoe with as much as she could hold consistently with speed and safety. These we covered with a tarpaulin, intending to convey them to the canoe only a few hours before starting. When night spread her sable curtain over the scene, we prepared to land; but, first, kneeling along with the natives and the teacher, the latter implored a blessing on our enterprise. Then we rowed quietly to the shore and followed our sable guide, who led us by a long detour, in order to avoid the village, to the place of rendezvous. We had not stood more than five minutes under the gloomy shade of the thick foliage when a dark figure glided noiselessly up to us. "Ah! here you are," said Jack, as Avatea approached. "Now, then, tell her what we've come about, and don't waste time." "I understan' leetl English," said Avatea, in a low voice. "Why, where did you pick up English?" exclaimed Jack, in amazement; "you were dumb as a stone when I saw you last." "She has learned all she knows of it from me," said the teacher, "since she came to the island." We now gave Avatea a full explanation of our plans, entering into all the details, and concealing none of the danger, so that she might be fully aware of the risk she ran. As we had anticipated, she was too glad of the opportunity thus afforded her to escape from her persecutors to think of the danger or risk. "Then you're willing to go with us, are you?" said Jack. "Yis, I am willing to go." "And you're not afraid to trust yourself out on the deep sea so far?" "No, I not 'fraid to go. Safe with Christian." After some further consultation, the teacher suggested that it was time to return, so we bade Avatea good night, and having appointed to meet at the cliff where the canoe lay, on the following night, just after dark, we hastened away--we to row on board the schooner with muffled oars--Avatea to glide back to her prison-hut among the Mango savages. CHAPTER XXXIII. The flight--The pursuit--Despair and its results--The lion bearded in his den again--Awful danger threatened and wonderfully averted--A terrific storm. As the time for our meditated flight drew near, we became naturally very fearful lest our purpose should be discovered, and we spent the whole of the following day in a state of nervous anxiety. We resolved to go a- shore and ramble about the village, as if to observe the habits and dwellings of the people, as we thought that an air of affected indifference to the events of the previous day would be more likely than any other course of conduct to avert suspicion as to our intentions. While we were thus occupied, the teacher remained on board with the Christian natives, whose powerful voices reached us ever and anon as they engaged in singing hymns or in prayer. At last the long and tedious day came to a close, the sank into the sea, and the short-lived twilight of those regions, to which I have already referred, ended abruptly in a dark night. Hastily throwing a few blankets into our little boat, we stepped into it, and, whispering farewell to the natives in the schooner, rowed gently over the lagoon, taking care to keep as near to the beach as possible. We rowed in the utmost silence and with muffled oars, so that had any one observed us at the distance of a few yards, he might have almost taken us for a phantom- boat or a shadow on the dark water. Not a breath of air was stirring; but fortunately the gentle ripple of the sea upon the shore, mingled with the soft roar of the breaker on the distant reef, effectually drowned the slight plash that we unavoidably made in the water by the dipping of our oars. Quarter of an hour sufficed to bring us to the over-hanging cliff under whose black shadow our little canoe lay, with her bow in the water ready to be launched, and most of her cargo already stowed away. As the keel of our little boat grated on the sand, a hand was laid upon the bow, and a dim form was seen. "Ha!" said Peterkin in a whisper, as he stepped upon the beach, "is that you, Avatea?" "Yis, it am me," was the reply. "All right! Now, then, gently. Help me to shove off the canoe," whispered Jack to the teacher; "and Peterkin, do you shove these blankets aboard, we may want them before long. Avatea, step into the middle;--that's right." "Is all ready?" whispered the teacher. "Not quite," replied Peterkin. "Here, Ralph, lay hold o' this pair of oars, and stow them away if you can. I don't like paddles. After we're safe away I'll try to rig up rollicks for them." "Now, then, in with you and shove off." One more earnest squeeze of the kind teacher's hand, and, with his whispered blessing yet sounding in our ears, we shot like an arrow from the shore, sped over the still waters of the lagoon, and paddled as swiftly as strong arms and willing hearts could urge us over the long swell of the open sea. All that night and the whole of the following day we plied our paddles in almost total silence and without halt, save twice to recruit our failing energies with a mouthful of food and a draught of water. Jack had taken the bearing of the island just after starting, and laying a small pocket- compass before him, kept the head of the canoe due south, for our chance of hitting the island depended very much on the faithfulness of our steersman in keeping our tiny bark exactly and constantly on its proper course. Peterkin and I paddled in the bow, and Avatea worked untiringly in the middle. As the sun's lower limb dipped on the gilded edge of the sea Jack ceased working, threw down his paddle, and called a halt. "There," he cried, heaving a deep, long-drawn sigh, "we've put a considerable breadth of water between us and these black rascals, so now we'll have a hearty supper and a sound sleep." "Hear, hear," cried Peterkin. "Nobly spoken, Jack. Hand me a drop water, Ralph. Why, girl what's wrong with you? You look just like a black owl blinking in the sunshine." Avatea smiled. "I sleepy," she said; and as if to prove the truth of this, she laid her head on the edge of the canoe and fell fast asleep. "That's uncommon sharp practice," said Peterkin, with a broad grin. "Don't you think we should awake her to make her eat something first? or, perhaps," he added, with a grave, meditative look, "perhaps we might put some food in her mouth, which is so elegantly open at the present moment, and see if she'd swallow it while asleep. If so, Ralph, you might come round to the front here and feed her quietly, while Jack and I are tucking into the victuals. It would be a monstrous economy of time." I could not help smiling at Peterkin's idea, which, indeed, when I pondered it, seemed remarkably good in theory; nevertheless I declined to put it in practice, being fearful of the result should the victual chance to go down the wrong throat. But, on suggesting this to Peterkin, he exclaimed-- "Down the wrong throat, man! why, a fellow with half an eye might see that if it went down Avatea's throat it could not go down the wrong throat!--unless, indeed, you have all of a sudden become inordinately selfish, and think that all the throats in the world are wrong ones except your own. However, don't talk so much, and hand me the pork before Jack finishes it. I feel myself entitled to at least one minute morsel." "Peterkin, you're a villain. A paltry little villain," said Jack, quietly, as he tossed the hind legs (including the tail) of a cold roast pig to his comrade; "and I must again express my regret that unavoidable circumstances have thrust your society upon me, and that necessity has compelled me to cultivate your acquaintance. Were it not that you are incapable of walking upon the water, I would order you, sir, out of the canoe." "There! you've wakened Avatea with your long tongue," retorted Peterkin, with a frown, as the girl gave vent to a deep sigh. "No," he continued, "it was only a snore. Perchance she dreameth of her black Apollo. I say, Ralph, do leave just one little slice of that yam. Between you and Jack I run a chance of being put on short allowance, if not--yei--a--a--ow!" Peterkin's concluding remark was a yawn of so great energy that Jack recommended him to postpone the conclusion of his meal till next morning,--a piece of advice which he followed so quickly, that I was forcibly reminded of his remark, a few minutes before, in regard to the sharp practice of Avatea. My readers will have observed, probably, by this time, that I am much given to meditation; they will not, therefore, be surprised to learn that I fell into a deep reverie on the subject of sleep, which was continued without intermission into the night, and prolonged without interruption into the following morning. But I cannot feel assured that I actually slept during that time, although I am tolerably certain that I was not awake. Thus we lay like a shadow on the still bosom of the ocean, while the night closed in, and all around was calm, dark, and silent. A thrilling cry of alarm from Peterkin startled us in the morning, just as the gray dawn began to glimmer in the east. "What's wrong?" cried Jack, starting up. Peterkin replied by pointing with a look of anxious dread towards the horizon; and a glance sufficed to show us that one of the largest sized war-canoes was approaching us! With a groan of mingled despair and anger Jack seized his paddle, glanced at the compass, and, in a suppressed voice, commanded us to "give way." But we did not require to be urged. Already our four paddles were glancing in the water, and the canoe bounded over the glassy sea like a dolphin, while a shout from our pursuers told that they had observed our motions. "I see something like land ahead," said Jack, in a hopeful tone. "It seems impossible that we could have made the island yet; still, if it is so, we may reach it before these fellows can catch us, for our canoe is light and our muscles are fresh." No one replied; for, to say truth, we felt that, in a long chase, we had no chance whatever with a canoe which held nearly a hundred warriors. Nevertheless, we resolved to do our utmost to escape, and paddled with a degree of vigour that kept us well in advance of our pursuers. The war- canoe was so far behind us that it seemed but a little speck on the sea, and the shouts, to which the crew occasionally gave vent, came faintly towards us on the morning breeze. We therefore hoped that we should be able to keep in advance for an hour or two, when we might, perhaps, reach the land ahead. But this hope was suddenly crushed by the supposed land, not long after, rising up into the sky; thus proving itself to be a fog- bank! A bitter feeling of disappointment filled each heart, and was expressed on each countenance, as we beheld this termination to our hopes. But we had little time to think of regret. Our danger was too great and imminent to permit of a moment's relaxation from our exertions. No hope now animated our bosoms; but a feeling of despair, strange to say, lent us power to work, and nerved our arms with such energy, that it was several hours ere the savages overtook us. When we saw that there was indeed no chance of escape, and that paddling any longer would only serve to exhaust our strength, without doing any good, we turned the side of our canoe towards the approaching enemy, and laid down our paddles. Silently, and with a look of bitter determination on his face, Jack lifted one of the light boat-oars that we had brought with us, and, resting it on his shoulder, stood up in an attitude of bold defiance. Peterkin took the other oar and also stood up, but there was no anger visible on his countenance. When not sparkling with fun, it usually wore a mild, sad expression, which was deepened on the present occasion, as he glanced at Avatea, who sat with her face resting in her hands upon her knees. Without knowing very well what I intended to do, I also arose and grasped my paddle with both hands. On came the large canoe like a war-horse of the deep, with the foam curling from its sharp bow, and the spear-heads of the savages glancing the beams of the rising sun. Perfect silence was maintained on both sides, and we could hear the hissing water, and see the frowning eyes of the warriors, as they came rushing on. When about twenty yards distant, five or six of the savages in the bow rose, and, laying aside their paddles, took up their spears. Jack and Peterkin raised their oars, while, with a feeling of madness whirling in my brain, I grasped my paddle and prepared for the onset. But, before any of us could strike a blow, the sharp prow of the war-canoe struck us like a thunderbolt on the side, and hurled us into the sea! What occurred after this I cannot tell, for I was nearly drowned; but when I recovered from the state of insensibility into which I had been thrown, I found myself stretched on my back, bound hand and foot between Jack and Peterkin, in the bottom of the large canoe. In this condition we lay the whole day, during which time the savages only rested one hour. When night came, they rested again for another hour, and appeared to sleep just as they sat. But we were neither unbound nor allowed to speak to each other during the voyage, nor was a morsel of food or a draught of water given to us. For food, however, we cared little; but we would have given much for a drop of water to cool our parched lips, and we would have been glad, too, had they loosened the cords that bound us, for they were tightly fastened and occasioned us much pain. The air, also, was unusually hot, so much so that I felt convinced that a storm was brewing. This also added to our sufferings. However, these were at length relieved by our arrival at the island from which we had fled. While we were being led ashore, we caught a glimpse of Avatea, who was seated in the hinder part of the canoe. She was not fettered in any way. Our captors now drove us before them towards the hut of Tararo, at which we speedily arrived, and found the chief seated with an expression on his face that boded us no good. Our friend the teacher stood beside him, with a look of anxiety on his mild features. "How comes it," said Tararo, turning to the teacher, "that these youths have abused our hospitality?" "Tell him," replied Jack, "that we have not abused his hospitality, for his hospitality has not been extended to us. I came to the island to deliver Avatea, and my only regret is that I have failed to do so. If I get another chance, I will try to save her yet." The teacher shook his head. "Nay, my young friend, I had better not tell him that. It will only incense him." "Fear not," replied Jack. "If you don't tell him that, you'll tell him nothing, for I won't say anything softer." On hearing Jack's speech, Tararo frowned and his eye flashed with anger. "Go," he said, "presumptuous boy. My debt to you is cancelled. You and your companions shall die." As he spoke he rose and signed to several of his attendants, who seized Jack, and Peterkin, and me, violently by the collars, and, dragging us from the hut of the chief, led us through the wood to the outskirts of the village. Here they thrust us into a species of natural cave in a cliff, and, having barricaded the entrance, left us in total darkness. After feeling about for some time--for our legs were unshackled, although our wrists were still bound with thongs--we found a low ledge of rock running along one side of the cavern. On this we seated ourselves, and for a long time maintained unbroken silence. At last I could restrain my feelings no longer. "Alas! dear Jack and Peterkin," said I, "what is to become of us? I fear that we are doomed to die." "I know not," replied Jack, in a tremulous voice, "I know not; Ralph, I regret deeply the hastiness of my violent temper, which, I must confess, has been the chief cause of our being brought to this sad condition. Perhaps the teacher may do something for us. But I have little hope." "Ah! no," said Peterkin, with a heavy sigh; "I am sure he can't help us. Tararo doesn't care more for him than for one of his dogs." "Truly," said I, "there seems no chance of deliverance, unless the Almighty puts forth his arm to save us. Yet I must say that I have great hope, my comrades, for we have come to this dark place by no fault of ours--unless it be a fault to try to succour a woman in distress." I was interrupted in my remarks by a noise at the entrance to the cavern, which was caused by the removal of the barricade. Immediately after, three men entered, and, taking us by the collars of our coats, led us away through the forest. As we advanced, we heard much shouting and beating of native drums in the village, and at first we thought that our guards were conducting us to the hut of Tararo again. But in this we were mistaken. The beating of drums gradually increased, and soon after we observed a procession of the natives coming towards us. At the head of this procession we were placed, and then we all advanced together towards the temple where human victims were wont to be sacrificed! A thrill of horror ran through my heart as I recalled to mind the awful scenes that I had before witnessed at that dreadful spot. But deliverance came suddenly from a quarter whence we little expected it. During the whole of that day there had been an unusual degree of heat in the atmosphere, and the sky assumed that lurid aspect which portends a thunder-storm. Just as we were approaching the horrid temple, a growl of thunder burst overhead and heavy drops of rain began to fall. Those who have not witnessed gales and storms in tropical regions can form but a faint conception of the fearful hurricane that burst upon the island of Mango at this time. Before we reached the temple, the storm burst upon us with a deafening roar, and the natives, who knew too well the devastation that was to follow, fled right and left through the woods in order to save their property, leaving us alone in the midst of the howling storm. The trees around us bent before the blast like willows, and we were about to flee in order to seek shelter, when the teacher ran toward us with a knife in his hand. "Thank the Lord," he said, cutting our bonds, "I am in time! Now, seek the shelter of the nearest rock." This we did without a moment's hesitation, for the whistling wind burst, ever and anon, like thunder-claps among the trees, and, tearing them from their roots, hurled them with violence to the ground. Rain cut across the land in sheets, and lightning played like forked serpents in the air; while, high above the roar of the hissing tempest, the thunder crashed, and burst, and rolled in awful majesty. In the village the scene was absolutely appalling. Roofs were blown completely off the houses in many cases; and in others, the houses themselves were levelled with the ground. In the midst of this, the natives were darting to and fro, in some instances saving their goods, but in many others seeking to save themselves from the storm of destruction that whirled around them. But, terrific although the tempest was on land, it was still more tremendous on the mighty ocean. Billows sprang, as it were, from the great deep, and while their crests were absolutely scattered into white mist, they fell upon the beach with a crash that seemed to shake the solid land. But they did not end there. Each successive wave swept higher and higher on the beach, until the ocean lashed its angry waters among the trees and bushes, and at length, in a sheet of white curdled foam, swept into the village and upset and carried off, or dashed into wreck, whole rows of the native dwellings! It was a sublime, an awful scene, calculated, in some degree at least, to impress the mind of beholders with the might and the majesty of God. We found shelter in a cave that night and all the next day, during which time the storm raged in fury; but on the night following it abated somewhat, and in the morning we went to the village to seek for food, being so famished with hunger that we lost all feeling of danger and all wish to escape in our desire to satisfy the cravings of nature. But no sooner had we obtained food than we began to wish that we had rather endeavoured to make our escape into the mountains. This we attempted to do soon afterwards, but the natives were now able to look after us, and on our showing a disposition to avoid observation and make towards the mountains, we were seized by three warriors, who once more bound our wrists and thrust us into our former prison. It is true Jack made a vigorous resistance, and knocked down the first savage who seized him, with a well-directed blow of his fist, but he was speedily overpowered by others. Thus we were again prisoners, with the prospect of torture and a violent death before us. CHAPTER XXXIV. Imprisonment--Sinking hopes--Unexpected freedom to more than one, and in more senses than one. For a long long month we remained in our dark and dreary prison, during which dismal time we did not see the face of a human being, except that of the silent savage who brought us our daily food. There have been one or two seasons in my life during which I have felt as if the darkness of sorrow and desolation that crushed my inmost heart could never pass away, until death should make me cease to feel the present was such a season. During the first part of our confinement we felt a cold chill at our hearts every time we heard a foot-fall near the cave--dreading lest it should prove to be that of our executioner. But as time dragged heavily on, we ceased to feel this alarm, and began to experience such a deep, irrepressible longing for freedom, that we chafed and fretted in our confinement like tigers. Then a feeling of despair came over us, and we actually longed for the time when the savages would take us forth to die! But these changes took place very gradually, and were mingled sometimes with brighter thoughts; for there were times when we sat in that dark cavern on our ledge of rock and conversed almost pleasantly about the past, until we well-nigh forgot the dreary present. But we seldom ventured to touch upon the future. A few decayed leaves and boughs formed our bed; and a scanty supply of yams and taro, brought to us once a-day, constituted our food. "Well, Ralph, how have you slept?" said Jack, in a listless tone, on rising one morning from his humble couch. "Were you much disturbed by the wind last night?" "No," said I; "I dreamed of home all night, and I thought that my mother smiled upon me, and beckoned me to go to her; but I could not, for I was chained." "And I dreamed, too," said Peterkin; "but it was of our happy home on the Coral Island. I thought we were swimming in the Water Garden; then the savages gave a yell, and we were immediately in the cave at Spouting Cliff, which, somehow or other, changed into this gloomy cavern; and I awoke to find it true." Peterkin's tone was so much altered by the depressing influence of his long imprisonment, that, had I not known it was he who spoke, I should scarcely have recognised it, so sad was it, and so unlike to the merry, cheerful voice we had been accustomed to hear. I pondered this much, and thought of the terrible decline of happiness that may come on human beings in so short a time; how bright the sunshine in the sky at one time, and, in a short space, how dark the overshadowing cloud! I had no doubt that the Bible would have given me much light and comfort on this subject, if I had possessed one, and I once more had occasion to regret deeply having neglected to store my memory with its consoling truths. While I meditated thus, Peterkin again broke the silence of the cave, by saying, in a melancholy tone, "Oh, I wonder if we shall ever see our dear island more." His voice trembled, and, covering his face with both hands, he bent down his head and wept. It was an unusual sight for me to see our once joyous companion in tears, and I felt a burning desire to comfort him; but, alas! what could I say? I could hold out no hope; and although I essayed twice to speak, the words refused to pass my lips. While I hesitated, Jack sat down beside him, and whispered a few words in his ear, while Peterkin threw himself on his friend's breast, and rested his head on his shoulder. Thus we sat for some time in deep silence. Soon after, we heard footsteps at the entrance of the cave, and immediately our jailer entered. We were so much accustomed to his regular visits, however, that we paid little attention to him, expecting that he would set down our meagre fare, as usual, and depart. But, to our surprise, instead of doing so, he advanced towards us with a knife in his hand, and, going up to Jack, he cut the thongs that bound his wrists, then he did the same to Peterkin and me! For fully five minutes we stood in speechless amazement, with our freed hands hanging idly by our sides. The first thought that rushed into my mind was, that the time had come to put us to death; and although, as I have said before, we actually wished for death in the strength of our despair, now that we thought it drew really near I felt all the natural love of life revive in my heart, mingled with a chill of horror at the suddenness of our call. But I was mistaken. After cutting our bonds, the savage pointed to the cave's mouth, and we marched, almost mechanically, into the open air. Here, to our surprise, we found the teacher standing under a tree, with his hands clasped before him, and the tears trickling down his dark cheeks. On seeing Jack, who came out first, he sprang towards him, and clasping him in his arms, exclaimed,-- "Oh! my dear young friend, through the great goodness of God you are free!" "Free!" cried Jack. "Ay, free," repeated the teacher, shaking us warmly by the hands again and again; "free to go and come as you will. The Lord has unloosed the bands of the captive and set the prisoners free. A missionary has been sent to us, and Tararo has embraced the Christian religion! The people are even now burning their gods of wood! Come, my dear friends, and see the glorious sight." We could scarcely credit our senses. So long had we been accustomed in our cavern to dream of deliverance, that we imagined for a moment this must surely be nothing more than another vivid dream. Our eyes and minds were dazzled, too, by the brilliant sunshine, which almost blinded us after our long confinement to the gloom of our prison, so that we felt giddy with the variety of conflicting emotions that filled our throbbing bosoms; but as we followed the footsteps of our sable friend, and beheld the bright foliage of the trees, and heard the cries of the paroquets, and smelt the rich perfume of the flowering shrubs, the truth, that we were really delivered from prison and from death, rushed with overwhelming power into our souls, and, with one accord, while tears sprang to our eyes, we uttered a loud long cheer of joy. It was replied to by a shout from a number of the natives who chanced to be near. Running towards us, they shook us by the hand with every demonstration of kindly feeling. They then fell behind, and, forming a sort of procession, conducted us to the dwelling of Tararo. The scene that met our eyes here was one that I shall never forget. On a rude bench in front of his house sat the chief. A native stood on his left hand, who, from his dress, seemed to be a teacher. On his right stood an English gentleman, who, I at once and rightly concluded, was a missionary. He was tall, thin, and apparently past forty, with a bald forehead, and thin gray hair. The expression of his countenance was the most winning I ever saw, and his clear gray eye beamed with a look that was frank, fearless, loving, and truthful. In front of the chief was an open space, in the centre of which lay a pile of wooden idols, ready to be set on fire; and around these were assembled thousands of natives, who had come to join in or to witness the unusual sight. A bright smile overspread the missionary's face as he advanced quickly to meet us, and he shook us warmly by the hands. "I am overjoyed to meet you, my dear young friends," he said. "My friend, and your friend, the teacher, has told me your history; and I thank our Father in heaven, with all my heart, that he has guided me to this island, and made me the instrument of saving you." We thanked the missionary most heartily, and asked him in some surprise how he had succeeded in turning the heart of Tararo in our favour. "I will tell you that at a more convenient time," he answered, "meanwhile we must not forget the respect due to the chief. He waits to receive you." In the conversation that immediately followed between us and Tararo, the latter said that the light of the gospel of Jesus Christ had been sent to the island, and that to it we were indebted for our freedom. Moreover, he told us that we were at liberty to depart in our schooner whenever we pleased, and that we should be supplied with as much provision as we required. He concluded by shaking hands with us warmly, and performing the ceremony of rubbing noses. This was indeed good news to us, and we could hardly find words to express our gratitude to the chief and to the missionary. "And what of Avatea?" inquired Jack. The missionary replied by pointing to a group of natives in the midst of whom the girl stood. Beside her was a tall, strapping fellow, whose noble mien and air of superiority bespoke him a chief of no ordinary kind. "That youth is her lover. He came this very morning in his war-canoe to treat with Tararo for Avatea. He is to be married in a few days, and afterwards returns to his island home with his bride!" "That's capital," said Jack, as he stepped up to the savage and gave him a hearty shake of the hand. "I wish you joy, my lad;--and you too, Avatea." As Jack spoke, Avatea's lover took him by the hand and led him to the spot where Tararo and the missionary stood, surrounded by most of the chief men of the tribe. The girl herself followed, and stood on his left hand while her lover stood on his right, and, commanding silence, made the following speech, which was translated by the missionary:-- "Young friend, you have seen few years, but your head is old. Your heart also is large and very brave. I and Avatea are your debtors, and we wish, in the midst of this assembly, to acknowledge our debt, and to say that it is one which we can never repay. You have risked your life for one who was known to you only for a few days. But she was a woman in distress, and that was enough to secure to her the aid of a Christian man. We, who live in these islands of the sea, know that the true Christians always act thus. Their religion is one of love and kindness. We thank God that so many Christians have been sent here--we hope many more will come. Remember that I and Avatea will think of you and pray for you and your brave comrades when you are far away." To this kind speech Jack returned a short sailor-like reply, in which he insisted that he had only done for Avatea what he would have done for any woman under the sun. But Jack's forte did not lie in speech-making, so he terminated rather abruptly by seizing the chief's hand and shaking it violently, after which he made a hasty retreat. "Now, then, Ralph and Peterkin," said Jack, as we mingled with the crowd, "it seems to me that the object we came here for having been satisfactorily accomplished, we have nothing more to do but get ready for sea as fast as we can, and hurrah for dear old England!" "That's my idea precisely," said Peterkin, endeavouring to wink, but he had wept so much of late, poor fellow, that he found it difficult; "however, I'm not going away till I see these fellows burn their gods." Peterkin had his wish, for, in a few minutes afterwards, fire was put to the pile, the roaring flames ascended, and, amid the acclamations of the assembled thousands, the false gods of Mango were reduced to ashes! CHAPTER XXXV. Conclusion. To part is the lot of all mankind. The world is a scene of constant leave-taking, and the hands that grasp in cordial greeting to-day, are doomed ere long to unite for the last time, when the quivering lips pronounce the word--"Farewell." It is a sad thought, but should we on that account exclude it from our minds? May not a lesson worth learning be gathered in the contemplation of it? May it not, perchance, teach us to devote our thoughts more frequently and attentively to that land where we meet, but part no more? How many do we part from in this world with a light "Good-bye," whom we never see again! Often do I think, in my meditations on this subject, that if we realized more fully the shortness of the fleeting intercourse that we have in this world with many of our fellow-men, we would try more earnestly to do them good, to give them a friendly smile, as it were, in passing (for the longest intercourse on earth is little more than a passing word and glance), and show that we have sympathy with them in the short quick struggle of life, by our kindly words and looks and action. The time soon drew near when we were to quit the islands of the South Seas; and, strange though it may appear, we felt deep regret at parting with the natives of the island of Mango; for, after they embraced the Christian faith, they sought, by showing us the utmost kindness, to compensate for the harsh treatment we had experienced at their hands; and we felt a growing affection for the native teachers and the missionary, and especially for Avatea and her husband. Before leaving, we had many long and interesting conversations with the missionary, in one of which he told us that he had been making for the island of Raratonga when his native-built sloop was blown out of its course, during a violent gale, and driven to this island. At first the natives refused to listen to what he had to say; but, after a week's residence among them, Tararo came to him and said that he wished to become a Christian, and would burn his idols. He proved himself to be sincere, for, as we have seen, he persuaded all his people to do likewise. I use the word persuaded advisedly; for, like all the other Feejee chiefs, Tararo was a despot and might have commanded obedience to his wishes; but he entered so readily into the spirit of the new faith that he perceived at once the impropriety of using constraint in the propagation of it. He set the example, therefore; and that example was followed by almost every man of the tribe. During the short time that we remained at the island, repairing our vessel and getting her ready for sea, the natives had commenced building a large and commodious church, under the superintendence of the missionary, and several rows of new cottages were marked out; so that the place bid fair to become, in a few months, as prosperous and beautiful as the Christian village at the other end of the island. After Avatea was married, she and her husband were sent away, loaded with presents, chiefly of an edible nature. One of the native teachers went with them, for the purpose of visiting still more distant islands of the sea, and spreading, if possible, the light of the glorious gospel there. As the missionary intended to remain for several weeks longer, in order to encourage and confirm his new converts, Jack and Peterkin and I held a consultation in the cabin of our schooner,--which we found just as we had left her, for everything that had been taken out of her was restored. We now resolved to delay our departure no longer. The desire to see our beloved native land was strong upon us, and we could not wait. Three natives volunteered to go with us to Tahiti, where we thought it likely that we should be able to procure a sufficient crew of sailors to man our vessel; so we accepted their offer gladly. It was a bright clear morning when we hoisted the snow-white sails of the pirate schooner and left the shores of Mango. The missionary, and thousands of the natives, came down to bid us God-speed, and to see us sail away. As the vessel bent before a light fair wind, we glided quickly over the lagoon under a cloud of canvass. Just as we passed through the channel in the reef the natives gave us a loud cheer; and as the missionary waved his hat, while he stood on a coral rock with his gray hairs floating in the wind, we heard the single word "Farewell" borne faintly over the sea. That night, as we sat on the taffrail, gazing out upon the wide sea and up into the starry firmament, a thrill of joy, strangely mixed with sadness, passed through our hearts,--for we were at length "homeward bound," and were gradually leaving far behind us the beautiful, bright, green, coral islands of the Pacific Ocean. 
22554	----	[Frontispiece: FOR A MOMENT OR MORE THERE WAS ABSOLUTE STILLNESS IN THAT GRASSY ARENA] AS IT WAS IN THE BEGINNING BY PHILIP VERRILL MIGHELS Author of _The Furnace of Gold_ and _Thurley Ruxton_ New York Desmond FitzGerald, Inc. Copyright, 1912 By DESMOND FITZGERALD, INC. _All Rights Reserved_ CONTENTS CHAPTER I. A TRUSTED MESSENGER II. AN UNEXPECTED OUTBURST III. A MIDNIGHT TRAGEDY IV. THE NIGHT AND MORNING V. THE ISLAND VI. VARIOUS DISCOVERIES VII. A GREWSOME GUARDIAN VIII. PRIMITIVE CONDITIONS IX. THE MOTHER OF INVENTION X. THE MASTER POACHER XI. A MYSTERY XII. AMBITIOUS PLANS XIII. A MIDNIGHT VISITOR XIV. TRUANTS OUT OF SCHOOL XV. A NIGHT IN THE JUNGLE XVI. A DEAD MAN'S SECRET XVII. FEVERISH EMPLOYMENTS HALTED XVIII. AT THE TIGER'S KILL XIX. GRENVILLE'S RADIANT STAR XX. A GIRDLE OF GOLD XXI. MOLTEN METAL AND HOPES XXII. A TOMB OF STONE XXIII. A DESPERATE CHANCE XXIV. A DREADED VISITOR XXV. AN IRREPARABLE LOSS XXVI. AFTER TO-MORROW---- XXVII. A FATEFUL EXPLOSION XXVIII. WHAT THE BLAST DISCOVERED XXIX. AN INTERRUPTED DIVERSION XXX. REVEALING AN INTENT XXXI. THE SILENT VISITORS XXXII. DEATH AS A BROTHER XXXIII. THE GIRL BEHIND THE GUN XXXIV. DYAK DARTS AND METHODS XXXV. A BATTLE IN THE SMOKE XXXVI. THE LAST CUP OF WATER XXXVII. A BREATHLESS MARGIN XXXVIII. GRENVILLE'S DESPERATE CHANCE XXXIX. ADDITIONAL HEAD-HUNTERS XL. PLOT AND COUNTER PLOT XLI. A LIVING BAIT XLII. LONG HOURS OF DOUBT XLIII. THE HOUR OF CLIMAX XLIV. A LOTUS BLOSSOM XLV. THE LAST BOMB XLVI. A GIFT REFUSED XLVII. A FRIEND IN NEED AS IT WAS IN THE BEGINNING CHAPTER I A TRUSTED MESSENGER Grenville was not the type to be readily excited, yet a glow of exceptional brilliance shone in his eyes as he met the searching gaze of his friend, and wondered if Fenton could be jesting. That he had made no reply whatsoever to Fenton's proposition he failed to realize till Gerald spoke again. "Well, Sid," demanded that impetuous lieutenant of finance, "gone dumb? Perhaps I haven't made it plain," and he particularized on his fingers. "You get an ocean trip of eight or ten weeks' duration, tropic sun at its best, leisurely business without a fleck of bother, absolute rest, good provender, thorough recuperation, your entire expenses cheerfully paid, vast service rendered to me, no time lost on your equilibrator, time for countless new inventions to sprout in your fertile brain--and the unutterable joy of escaping this abominable climate, practically at once!" Grenville's smile, still brightly boyish, despite the many reverses and hardships of his six and twenty years, came creeping to his eyes. His wan face suggested a tint of color. "Don't wake me up for a moment, Fen," he answered. "I haven't dreamed anything like it for years." "Dreamed?" repeated Fenton, resuming his interrupted pacing up and down the rug, where the firelight reddened his profile. "Does that mean you like it?--you'll go?" "Would Cinderella go to a ball?" replied the still incredulous Grenville, half seriously. "What's the joker, old chap? What is the worst that could happen at the midnight stroke of twelve?" Fenton came at once and laid his hands on the broad, bony shoulders of his friend. "Have I ever played a joker with you yet?" said he. "Never mind the apology. I forgive you. I understand the compliment. Proposal sounds too good to be true, and all that sort of rubbish. The fact is, old man, I want you to go to Canton, China, and bring home my affianced bride. That's absolutely all there is to the business. You need the change and voyage; I haven't the time to go out there and fetch her myself. Elaine is alone in that heathenish country, miserably heartsick over her uncle's sudden death. She wishes to return at once. I can't let the poor girl come alone. I've no one in the world but you I'd care to send--and there you are." The glow departed from Grenville's eyes. His doubts of any proposition with a woman in the case lurked deep in his level gaze. His face became once more the rugged mask with which he had so long confronted a world persistently gray. The smile he summoned to his lips was more quizzical than mirthful. "It sounds perfectly simple," he replied. "But--you know there are several tales, recorded in prose and verse, of kings who have sent a trusted messenger on precisely such an errand. The joker somehow managed to get into play." "Just so," agreed Fenton, readily. "Three or four times in a thousand cases the girl and the--er--messenger rather thoughtlessly--well, a complication arises. The percentage, however, is excessively low. We'll consider that a negligible possibility. You see, I know both you and Elaine, and I am not a king. The question is--will you go?" Grenville was always amused by Fenton's arguments. "I have seen no statistics on the subject," he admitted. "In this particular instance you think there is not the slightest danger?" "Of finding in old Sid a modern Launcelot?" Fenton turned his friend about till both of them faced down the length of the room. "Well," he added, "to be sure----" Grenville's quick glance had sped to the massive mirror, ten feet away, where both himself and Fenton were reflected from heels to crown. He comprehended in a glance the ill-clothed, thin, ungainly figure he presented: his big hands hanging loosely down, his face too ruggedly modeled, too sallow for attractiveness, his hair too rebellious for order. A Launcelot indeed! The irony of the situation struck home to his sense of humor. "Have a look," continued Fenton, his nervous glance indifferent to his own athletic fitness, the perfect grooming of his person, the grace and elegance of his tailoring. "Do you discern anything of the disloyal ambassador in that hard-worked friend and comrade of my happiest years?" His eyes gleamed irresistibly. "You see, old chap, you have trusted an invention of perhaps incalculable worth to my honor, and must leave both your fame and possible fortune in my keeping while you are long away." "Yes, but----" "I know, exactly. This is the sort of thing you and I have always done by one another. I had no thought of refusing your trust in me, and so--I have booked your passage for Wednesday." He turned again to the mantel and began to fill his pipe. Grenville pivoted slowly and rubbed the corner of his jaw. "You have--booked my passage--for Wednesday?" Fenton nodded. "Elaine is quite desolate and lonely. You need immediate sunshine and warmth, and can do no good remaining here. Fine day all round for starting, Wednesday, and no boat sailing sooner. There are one thousand dollars in that wad by the statue of Anubis, for your outfit and incidental cash." Grenville glanced mechanically at the dog-headed god of the ancient Egyptians, apparently guarding the money towards which Fenton had waved a careless gesture. "One thou----" "If it isn't enough, draw on my bankers for more," interrupted Fenton, puffing at his calabash industriously. "I have written Elaine so fully you'll have nothing to explain." "By George!" said Grenville, more aggressively, "I like your nerve--the way you'd plunge me into trouble! Do you think I'm a mere senseless rack of wires and bones because I'm not my usual self? What's to prevent me from falling head over heels---- What's the rest of her name--Elaine what? And you probably have her photograph somewhere among your possessions." "Her full name," Fenton answered, moving to the desk beside the mirror, "is Elaine Lytton--twenty-one this month. We've known each other seven years." He returned, extending a small-sized photograph. "Fine girl. That's her picture. Good likeness--sent me last winter from China." Grenville studied the photograph superficially. He used it to tap on the table as he once more faced his host. "About as I expected," he announced with his customary candor. "Nice-looking girl--nothing extra, perhaps, but nice enough. Now tell me how any healthy male friend of yours can guarantee not to fall in love with Elaine, on a long, lazy trip through the tropics," and he cast the picture from him towards the lamp. Fenton relighted his pipe. "Well, suppose he did commit the folly you describe, what then?" "What then?" echoed Grenville, incredulously. "By the long, curved lashes of Juno's eyes, if I were the man you'd certainly see what then!" "All right," said the imperturbable Fenton. "I accept your conditions, fully, and about your outfit I'd suggest----" "Hold on!" interrupted Grenville. "I haven't accepted your commission, much as the trip----" "The trip!" said Fenton. "Ah! that's the point! I insist on your making the trip, you see, and taking the rest. Fetching Elaine from China is merely incidental--only don't forget her completely and come back here empty-handed." He sat down to wrestle with his pipe. Grenville looked at him amusedly. "Now, see here," he said, "don't you make the slightest mistake, you confident old idiot. If I should just happen to fancy Elaine, I wouldn't give you twenty cents in Mexican money for your chances at the wedding bells and trimmings." "Then you'll go!" Fenton suddenly exploded, springing to his feet. "Come on, that's settled--shake." But Grenville retreated from the outstretched hand, a queer smile playing on his features. "Hang your infernal self-conceit," he answered; "you don't think I could win her if I tried." "I don't believe you'll try." "That isn't the point. I might. If I loved her I would, you can bet your final shoe peg! Your proposition isn't fair--subjecting a man, and a friend at that, to possible temptation, all kinds of treachery, and a war between love and duty. Rot that kind of duty! I want you to know that if I take the trip and happen to fall in this muddle with your girl, I'm going to pitch your infernal old duty game overboard in less than two seconds and go in and win her, if I can!" "Well, what's all the row about, after that?" inquired Fenton as before. "Haven't I said I accept your challenge? Go out there and fetch her, that's all. As for the rest--win her, if you can!" "I don't say I'll try to win the girl. I may not like her for a cent." "Then why all this futile argument and waste of valuable time?" "But I may--confound your egotistic nerve, and your insistence! And I warn you, Fen, I mean every word, in case----" "I understand--I understand you fully, without repetition," Fenton once more interrupted. "For Heaven's sake, give me your hand, old man, and cease firing." "You meant it, then--no strings on the proposition?" "Not a string--absolutely not a string." A strange new thrill of pleasure crept into Grenville's being, warming his thin, anæmic pulses suddenly, as he met Fenton's gaze and once more permitted his thoughts to dwell on all the proposal embraced. Since Fenton refused to be worried concerning himself and the girl who supplied the motive for the trip, then why should he consider it further? Elaine was, in fact, swiftly fading from his reflections. All his nature yearned towards the tropic seas. All his overwrought frame and substance ached for the long, lazy days of indolence, rest, and recuperation that alone could restore him to himself. He had always longed for precisely this excursion to the far-off edge of the sphere. His faculties leaped to the new-made possibility of a contact with the ancient world, heretofore so wholly inaccessible. Already new color had come to his face and a new blaze of fire to his eyes. Privations and toil, those two unsparing allies that had made such inroads on his health and strength, seemed fading harmlessly away. The prospect was far too alluring to be resisted. There was no good reason in the world for refusing this favor to a friend. The brightness of face that had ever made him so lovable, came unbidden, there in the glow. "I suppose I'll have to go," he presently admitted, "if it's only to win your girl." "Shake," said Fenton; and they shook. CHAPTER II AN UNEXPECTED OUTBURST The sea is an ancient worker of miracles in amazing transformation, but rarely does it bring about a more complete or startling metamorphosis than that which was wrought upon Grenville--trusted messenger for a friend. Long before the shores of Cathay loomed welcomely upon his vision he had lost all sense of weariness or depression, and likewise all that worn and gaunt appearance of a large, thin frame inhabited by a dogged but thoroughly exhausted spirit. He was once more his strong, bold, interested self, merry of speech, bright-eyed, untamed in his buoyant nature, lovable, thoughtful of those about him, impetuous, and never to be repressed. He had flirted uninterruptedly with all the old women and the children on the outward voyage, and was now as cheerfully repeating this gay performance on the steamship "Inca," homeward bound, on which he was certainly the favorite of the crew and his fellow-passengers. The fortnight passed with Elaine upon the sea had been wholly uneventful, save for the vast commotion astir in Grenville's being. The worst that could happen, he told himself, had happened. His daily deportment towards his charge had baffled, piqued, and amused that young lady alternately, and convinced her that here was a brand-new specimen of the genus man with which she had never had a genuine experience. She found him boyish, unexpected, apparently indifferent, and even unaware, at times, of her existence on the vessel, then fairly effervescent with deviltry that left her all but gasping. He was not to be classified, fixed, or calculated, save in certain traits of fearlessness, generosity, and kindness to those most needful of a helping smile, a merry word, or a spell of relief from daily cares. He commanded a certain admiration from the puzzled girl, but as yet her actual feelings towards him were quite unanalyzed. She was constantly finding herself astonished at the scope and variety of his information; she was glad to listen when he talked; she was frequently touched to the very heart by his tender care of one or two frail little beings on the ship to whom much of his time was devoted. There they were, with the situation between them apparently commonplace to dullness--till this one particular day. It was not a common day on the ocean. Despite the fact he was neither mariner nor meteorologist, Grenville felt some vast disturbance impending in all the lifeless air, regardless of the fact the barometer was steady and the calm, rainless spell had been exceptionally prolonged. It was not precisely a premonition that addressed itself to his senses; it was something he could not explain. A wave of heat passed swiftly through his body, leaving a strange excitement in its train, as he paused for a second to wonder if the "symptoms" he sensed were concerned not at all with sea or weather, but wholly with Elaine. He admitted the love--the wild, free, passionate love that had swept him away, past all safe anchorage, with her entry into his existence. He had made no effort to conceal it from himself, to deny its overwhelming force. He had cursed Gerald Fenton most heartily and consistently for casting him into this maelstrom of conflicting emotions, and daily and nightly he had waged mighty war with that fortunately absent individual, who had calmly accepted his challenge. The trouble had come unbidden. Elaine was so wholly different from the girl represented by Fenton's photograph! The picture had seemed so lifeless--and she was so gloriously alive! That one fact alone seemed sufficient excuse to Grenville for all that had happened to him since. He had not been fully informed, he argued, respecting her wondrous charms. The two weeks mentioned, with Elaine at his side, had certainly accomplished the world-old complication once more, despite all his hard and honest struggling. When the fight had ceased he did not even know. What Elaine's private attitude was towards himself he had taken no time to inquire. That part mattered less than nothing at all--at least as concerned the present. He had warned old Fenton what to expect, but now--by the gods--how deeply he was mired in the quandary! He was certainly mighty hard hit, he confessed, but meantime was equally positive that the singular something he plainly felt, invading the air and telling its message to some faint, imperfect sense of his being, had nothing whatsoever to do with this business of passionate emotions. Yet not a sign of uneasiness on the part of officers and crew could his keenest wit discover, in any quarter of the iron craft plowing steadily on across the sea. He had climbed to the topmost deck of the ship, where he and a carpenter, who was hewing out a boat thwart with a gleaming adze, were temporarily alone. It was not Grenville's manner of wooing to hover beside Elaine throughout the day or evening. He had done no wooing, as a matter of fact, beyond assuming a somewhat bold but unoffending guardianship, which she might have found refreshing had it not so frequently taken her breath with its very matter-of-factness. At the present moment, as Grenville was well aware, she was somewhere down on the shaded portion of the promenade, where the erstwhile stir of tropic air had ebbed to utter sluggishness and finally expired. One of the purser's young assistants, dressed in wrinkled white duck, was dumbly adoring at her side. Impatiently banishing Fenton from his thoughts, Grenville gazed idly at the sultry sky, and as idly at the carpenter, wielding the polished adze. When a deckhand presently called this workman away, Grenville took up the implement left behind, felt he would like to swing it just once at the root of the complication now arisen between himself and his distant friend--on whose money he was voyaging--and whose sweetheart his nature demanded for a mate--and, replacing the tool on the weathered planks, he thrust both hands in his pockets and paced to and fro, beside a pair of inverted lifeboats and a raft, that occupied most of the deck. He finally flung himself down on a hatch, in the shade of a white-painted funnel, and plunged his warring faculties into concentrated study of a problem in mechanics involved in a new invention. On the back of a letter, drawn from an inside pocket, he drew black hieroglyphics, that to him were wheels and levers that relieved his state of mind. Absorption claimed him for its own. The swift, weird changes of the sky and atmosphere escaped his engrossed attention. He was not even aware of her presence till Elaine had been standing for fully five minutes, a few feet only from his side. When he looked up at last and beheld once more that singular glow and beauty in the depths of her luminous eyes, and felt the subtle flattery involved in the fact she had come to the place to find him, seek him out, a flood of tidal passion surged to his outermost veins. It was just the one straw too much, this unforeseen encounter, with the smile upon her lips. His sturdy resolutions all went down in utter confusion before the wild gladness of his heart. Yet he made no outward sign for Elaine to read. Calmly, to all appearances, he placed the letter in his pocket. "I hope," said Elaine, "I haven't disrupted anything important." He arose and gazed at her oddly. "You have, Elaine," he answered, in a voice he strove hard to control. "You've not only disrupted everything heretofore moving along its accustomed path of order, law, and calm, but you've also upset all sorts of established institutions and raised some merry Hades." A spirit of the lively old Nick was infusing with his youthful blood as he stood there gazing upon her. Elaine, however, either failed to detect its presence, or she failed to understand. "I?" she said, "Mr. Grenville. I'm sorry. What have I done?" He could not have done the conventional thing, the deliberate, calm, or expected thing, to save his immortal soul. His nature was far too honest, too unabashed. He came a step nearer--and then she knew, but she could not have moved at the moment had death been the oncoming penalty for remaining where she stood. She had never been so startled in her life. They two were absolutely alone and unobserved. Of this the impulsive Grenville was aware--and the knowledge had fired a certain madness in his being he was powerless to quell. "Elaine," he said, as he suddenly caught her unresisting hands, "you've put old Fenton entirely out of the game. You're going to marry me." She was dimly conscious of pain in her hands, where he crushed them in his ardor. But her shocked surprise was uppermost, as she faced him with blazing eyes. "Mr. Grenville!" she said. "Mr. Grenville--you---- To say--to speak----" "Elaine," he interrupted gayly, bright devils dancing in his boyish eyes, "it simply couldn't be helped. We were intended to meet--and were cut out for one another. So the hour must come when you'll pitch old Gerald's ring in the sea by order of the very Fates themselves!" She snatched away her hands in indignation. "For shame!" she cried in rising anger, her whole womanly being aflame with resistance to all his growing madness. "You haven't the slightest right in the world----" "Right?" he repeated. "Right? I love you, Elaine! I love you! Haven't I said----" "Oh, the treachery--the treachery to Gerald!" she cut in, with swiftly increasing emotion. "To say such things when your honor----" "Wait!" he interrupted, eagerly. "I told him what he might expect from any such arrangement. I warned him precisely what might happen. He understood--accepted my conditions--made it a challenge--declared if I tried I couldn't win! And now----" "You can't--you can't!--you can't!" she cried at him, angrily. "To think that Gerald--to think you'd dare----" He suddenly caught her in his arms and crushed her against his breast. He kissed her on the mouth, despite her struggles. "Elaine," he said, "you are mine--all mine--my sweetheart--my comrade--my mate!" She finally planted her fists against his throat and thrust him from her in fury. "You brute!" she answered, sobbing in her anger. "I hate you--I loathe you--despise you utterly! I wish I might never see your face again!" "I'll make you love me, Elaine," he answered, white at last with intensity and deep-going passion. "I'll make you love me, as I love you--as madly--as wholly--as wondrously--before ever we two get home." Already Elaine was retreating from the place. "Never!" she answered, wildly. "Never, never, never!--do you hear?--not if it takes this boat a hundred years!" And gropingly, almost blinded by her sense of shame and rage, she fled from the deck and down the stairs, leaving him shaken where he stood. CHAPTER III A MIDNIGHT TRAGEDY Not the slightest alarm had invaded the ship, when Grenville finally urged his senses back to the normal, notwithstanding the unaccustomed suddenness with which the aspect of the day had been reversed. The storm broke at last, about one in the afternoon, with a deluge of rain and an onslaught of wind that seemed for a time refreshing. The huge steel leviathan appeared to elevate her nose, give her shoulders a shake that settled her firmly in the gray disorder of the elements, and then to accept the rude old contest with a certain indifference, born of well-established prowess. By two o'clock there was nothing refreshing suggested. A dull, stubborn struggle was waging in the drab of a wild and narrow field of commotion. Chill, musty billows of air, made thick by something that was neither scud nor mist, pounced heavily upon the laboring "Inca" in a manner chaotic and irregular. The sea was rising sullenly, its waves, like tumultuous cohorts, with ragged white banners, ceaselessly advancing. With an easy, monotonous assurance the great device of steam and iron plugged steadily onward. It could ride out a sea of tremendously greater violence. It knew from long experience every crest and every abyss of these mountains of air and water. It met huge impacts majestically, with a prow that cleaved them through, while its huge, wet bulk plowed up its mileage with a barely diminished speed. Few of the passengers were actually alarmed. A storm evolved so suddenly, they were confidently informed, would expend itself in one brief spasm of impotent fury and subside almost as it had come. It was all some mere local disturbance that the spell of dry, calm weather had accumulated too swiftly for any save a violent discharge. Discomfort increased to a certain pitch; locomotion about the saloon became impracticable. The crew alone remained upon their legs. It seemed like the climax to the storm. But another stage swiftly developed. It might have been somewhat after three P.M. when a shroud of darkness settled from the heavens, its substance foreign both to cloud and sea. It was thicker than before, and decidedly more musty. As black as night, but unrelated to all ordinary essences of darkness, it wrapped the stormy universe in Stygian folds with a suddenness strangely disquieting. The cataclysm followed almost instantly, as if from behind a concealing curtain. It came in dimensions incredible, a prodigious wall of rumpled water, like a mobile mountain chain. It towered forbiddingly above the quivering vessel for one terrible moment of threat, then confusion, utter and seemingly eternal, plunged roaringly over and under the helpless ocean toy of steel, submerging the very sea itself in Niagaras of sound and weight and motion. A hideous shudder quivered through the feeble plaything of the elements. Strange, muffled thunderings, sensations of oblivion sweeping miles deep across the ocean, and a horrible conviction of the ship's insignificance, impressed themselves pellmell upon the senses, while ebon blackness closed instantly down, like annihilation's swift accompaniment, and the hull seemed sinking countless fathoms. Such a moment expands to an æon. Doom seemed an old acquaintance when a complex gyration, a sense of being flung through space, and a reassertion of the engine's throb preceded the struggle to the surface. Yet it seemed as if no miracle of buoyancy and might could survive till the great steel body rose once more to the air. Men held their breath as if they must drown if the top were not immediately achieved. A stupendous lurch, an incredible list to starboard, another streaming by of immeasurable torrents, and the steamer wallowed pantingly out into daylight once again, to flounder like a thing exhausted till she steadied once more to the roll and pitch of the former storm-driven sea. There had been no time for any man to act till the monstrous thing had come and gone its way. As helplessly as all the others, Grenville had clutched at the table, there beside Elaine, while death passed and roared in their faces. He had gone to her chiefly for appearances, yet quite as if nothing had happened, despite their scene above, while Elaine had issued from her stateroom in terror of the storm. It was not till new, sharp sounds of activity broke on his senses, from above, that Sid left her side and went to inquire concerning the sum of their damage. His face had lost a shade only of its usual cheerfulness, when he finally returned. The ship was rolling heavily, fairly in the trough. "Our rudder is gone, with six of the lifeboats and as many men," he told his charge, whose courage he had previously gauged. "The worst is undoubtedly over. We can steer with the screws, sufficiently to make the nearest port." "Our rudder!--half a dozen men," Elaine faintly echoed, her brown eyes ablaze with dread and sympathy, as she steadied from the shock of Grenville's news. "What was it? How did it happen?" "A tidal wave. There must have been a huge volcanic disturbance, doubtless under the sea. Or it may have been an earthquake, tremendously violent. Nothing else, according to the Captain, could account for a storm so sudden, or for all this strange thickness of the air. He is confident now of our safety. The storm may subside in an hour." There was not the slightest cessation of the storm, however, till eight o'clock in the evening. Even then the night continued thick and wild. Fortunately the sea was vast and deep. There was nothing known in two hundred miles on which the ship could blunder. Hour after hour the crippled "Inca" limped erratically onward, buffeted helplessly here and there, and scalloping angry abysses of darkness and water, as first one screw and then the other was driven full speed, or slowed to half, or reversed altogether, to hold her nose to the altered course that would finally fetch them to a port for highly essential repairs. The rage of the elements, abating at last a trifle, had far exceeded the Captain's expectations. And when at length the center was passed, and comparative ease had supervened, the wind was still a considerable gale, while the sea would run high till nearly morning. The passengers, however, were sufficiently assured to retire at a fairly early hour. Elaine had readily responded to Grenville's matter-of-fact instructions, and, long before midnight, was fitfully sleeping, although she had not undressed. When eight bells struck from the bridge somewhere above him, Grenville still sat on the edge of his berth, rumpling his hair with one vigorous hand, while the other prisoned a book on his knee with a piece of white paper upon it. The paper was literally covered with mechanical designs and hieroglyphics, involved in his latest problem. He arose at last, removed his coat, and began to fumble with his tie. His eyes were fixed upon his paper. The problem's spell was cast again upon him. He sank, as before, to his inconvenient seat, and drew yet another design. How long he remained there, tranced by the lines that represented levers, gears, and eccentrics, the man could never have stated. He was dimly subconscious it was time to go to bed, and from time to time one hand would return to his collar. As a matter of fact, the hour was past one of the morning. Then, of a sudden, apparently beneath his very feet, the frightful _thing_ occurred. It came all together--the grinding crunch, the colossal upheaval of the ship's great belly full of vitals, the scream of iron ripped from iron, the roar of steam from broken pipes, and the tremor of death-throes, shuddering thus promptly down to the canted bow and stern from the wedge-shaped split amidships. They had struck on a rock, upheaved by the earthquake, where a hundred fathoms of crystal brine had existed the previous noon! The hideous conviction of doom and horror sped as swiftly as the shiver of destruction to the farthest confines of the vessel. Screams far and near, hoarse bellowing, a shrill, high pæan of mortal fright, and sounds of disordered scurrying followed with a promptness fairly appalling. Grenville waited for nothing. As well as the most experienced officer on board, he realized the significance of the impact, the ship's awful buckling, and the quiver stilling the creature's heart--the engines that had ceased at once to throb. His door had been flung widely open. Before he could reach the turning of the corridor, the one electric bulb, left glowing for the night, abruptly blackened. But he knew the way to Elaine. He seemed to be plunging through a torture hall, so hurtling full was the darkness of fearful cries and confusion. The broken hulk of the steamer slightly lurched, as the plates broke yet farther apart. Sidney was flung against a cabin wall, but he righted and pitched more rapidly down the already canted passage. "Elaine!" he called. "Elaine!" "Yes!" she answered. "Yes! I can't get out!" She was not at all in a panic. Someone, a man, rushed headlong by and nearly bowled Grenville over. He was spilling golf clubs from a bag and calling for the steward. Grenville caught at the knob of Elaine's hard-fastened door and threw his weight upon it. A stubborn resistance met his effort. The frame had been distorted by the splitting of plates and ribs. The wedging was complete. "Stand back!" he called out sharply. "I must break it in at once!" He knew they were late already--that swarms of beings, nearer the exits, were wildly pouring from the ship's interior, to be first to the boats, so fatally reduced in numbers. With all his might he hurled his shoulder against the door, that merely creaked at his impotent assault. The hall was narrow. He could gain no momentum for his blow. The second and third attack made no impression. A clammy sweat exuded from his forehead. That the sea was tumbling torrentially into the helpless vessel he knew by countless indications. Elaine must perish helplessly in her trap, could he not immediately force the barrier. He suddenly got down, full length, upon the floor, braced his shoulders against the opposite cabin, and, with knees slightly raised, placed both his feet against the door. Then he strained with superhuman strength. The door remained immovable, but its paneling slightly cracked. Meantime the shrieks, the shouts, the roaring of steam, and the terrible chaos of destruction had increased to a horrifying chorus. The corridor was filling with hot, moist vapor from the burst pipes. A dozen stokers had perished. Fire had attacked a portion of the vessel abaft the midships section. Once more, with a wild, fanatic conjuring of energy, Grenville spent himself upon the door--and a panel snapped out, flinging little splinters on Elaine. In a fury of desperate activity the man on the floor beat out more with his driving feet. "It's large enough! It's large enough!" cried the girl as the orifice widened. "Don't wait to break it larger!" She was now fully dressed, having swiftly prepared for any sort of emergency. A candle, provided from her bag, was glowing in her hand. This she thrust forth for Grenville to take, and then, with deliberate care, she wormed her way out through the jagged hole with the confident skill of a child. "Not there!" called Grenville, as she hastened ahead to gain the forward companionway. "Everybody's there, all fighting for their lives!" He caught her actively about the waist, as a further lurch and settling of the "Inca" would have hurled her to the floor. Down through a shorter passage and up a strangely tilted stair he drew her rapidly, his heart assailed by a sickening fear of what their delay might have cost them. Yet less than five minutes had actually passed since the first vast shock of disaster. They emerged to a portion of the slanted deck that seemed to be utterly deserted. A gust of wind blew out the candle. The sky was clear. An uneven fragment of the aging moon shone dully on the broken ship, whence fearful sounds continued to arise. Only one of the boats had been dropped to the tide--to be instantly whirled _inside_ the parting steamer, on the torrent filling her mighty belly, where the latest lurch had laid her widely open. Grenville ran to the starboard rail for a glance towards the struggle farther forward. There, about the impotent crew, laboring hotly with people, boats and davits no longer adjusted to normal working order, the wildest confusion existed. A boat that hung out above the sea was filled with screaming beings. Some madman arose and slashed with maniacal fury at the rope of the blocks, to hasten the craft's descent. Of a sudden its bow shot perpendicularly downward, its stern still high in the air. Its cargo dropped out like leaden weights, while the empty shell, like a pendulum, swayed to and fro above the smothered cries. To join such a throng would be but to choose a larger company in which to perish. Grenville saw that the steamer must presently drop from her rock and sound illimitable depths. This could hardly be delayed for more than ten minutes longer. A sickening qualm assailed his vitals at the thought of Elaine, doomed to drown thus helplessly, along with himself and the others. He knew that not only were the boats insufficient, but there was no time left to load and launch them! Then, at length, he remembered the life-raft on the roof. Once more, with his arm supporting Elaine, he clambered up a tilted stairway. The place was deserted. The raft was there--but securely fastened to the planking, fore and aft and at the sides! The ropes that bound it down were thick and doubled! With his knife the man attacked them desperately. The blade broke out of the handle when one strand only had been severed. His second blade was small and useless for such a labor. He groaned, for a ghastly tremor was seizing the "Inca" as she hung above some crumbling abyss for a final plunge to the bottom. Then the moonlight gleamed on the carpenter's adze, which had slid down the deck to the railing. He darted upon it like an animal, and, hastening back, swung it with swift and savage blows that severed the ropes like cheese. "Quick! Quick!" he shouted to Elaine, as he flung the implement from him; and, catching her roughly about the waist, he bore her face downward beside himself, full length upon the raft. It was already slightly in motion, where the ship was toppling to her grave! CHAPTER IV THE NIGHT--AND MORNING With a rattle and scraping along the deck, the device with the two prone figures desperately clinging to its surface, was halted and tilted nearly level as it struck a spar and partially mounted upon it. A sudden glare lit up the scene where the fire had burst through shattered windows. Screams yet more appalling than those already piercing the gale arose with the movement of the vessel. A picture grotesque and monstrous was for one awful moment presented. The huge iron entrails of the vessel heaved up into sight with her breaking. Her funnels, masts, and superstructure pointed outward, strangely horizontal. Innumerable loose things rattled down the decks. She belched forth flame and clouds of steam, against which one huge iron rib, rudely torn on its end to the semblance of a giant finger, seemed pointing the way to inscrutable eternity. The lantern, up at the "Inca's" masthead, describing an arc as it swept across the heavens, was the last thing Grenville noted. He thought how insignificantly it would sizzle in the sea! Then he and Elaine, with raft and all, were flung far out, by the suddenly accelerated velocity of the doomed leviathan, turning keel upwards as it sank. When they struck, their puny float dived under like a crockery platter, shied from some Titanic hand. With all his strength the man clung fast to Elaine and the lattice-like planking of their deck. It seemed to Grenville, still submerged, he could never resist the force of the waves to wash them backwards to death. It appeared, moreover, the raft would never return to the top. A million bubbles broke about his ears. He felt they were diving to deeps illimitable. With a rush of waters drumming on their senses, it shot precipitately upward at last, till air and spray greeted them together. Then, sucked deep under, anew, and backward, by the gurgling vortex where the ship had gone, and swirling about, pivoting wildly, as the raft now threatened to plunge edge downward to the nethermost caverns of the hungry sea, they met a counter-violence that forced it once more towards the surface. The boilers had burst in the steamer's hold, with confusion to all those tides of suction. Erratically diving here and there, a helpless prey to chaotic cross currents in all directions, the float swung giddily in the mid abyss, while the water walls baffled one another. Elaine, even more than Grenville, was bursting with explosive breath when, at length, the raft came twisting once more to the chill, sweet region of the gale. And even then strong currents drew it fiercely in their wake before it rode freely on the waters. Dripping and gasping, Grenville half rose to scan the troubled billows for companions in distress. Not a sound could he hear, save the swash of the waves. Not a light appeared in all that void, save the distant, indifferent stars. Elaine, too, stirred, and raised herself up to a posture half sitting. She was hatless. Her hair was streaming down across her face and shoulders in strands too wet for the wind to ravel. Her eyes were blazing wildly. "The ship?" she said. "What happened?" "Sunk." He stood up. Their platform was steadying buoyantly as it drifted in the breeze. "I can't even see the spot," he added, presently. "We couldn't propel this raft to the place, no matter who might be floating." "It's terrible!" she whispered, faintly, as one afraid to accuse the Fates aloud. "Couldn't we even---- You think they are all--all gone?" "I'll shout," said Grenville, merely to humor the pity in her breast. His long, loud "Halloo" rolled weirdly out across the wolf-like pack of waves, three--four--a half dozen times. There was not the feeblest murmur of response. Yet he felt that, perhaps, one boatload at least might have sped away in safety. "God help them!" he said, when the silence became once more insupportable. "He only knows where any of us are!" "After all we'd been through!" she shivered in awe. "If only we two were really saved---- Oh, there must be land, somewhere about, if the Captain was trying to reach a port! But, of course, this isn't even a boat, and, perhaps, it will finally sink!" He tried to summon an accent of hope to his voice. "Oh, no; it will float indefinitely. It's sure to turn up somewhere in the end." "We haven't food--or even water," she answered him, understandingly. "What shall we do to-morrow?" "We are drifting rapidly northward. We may arrive somewhere by to-morrow.... You'd better sit down. It taxes your strength to stand." "God help us all!" she suddenly prayed in a broken voice, and, sinking lower where she sat, was shaken by one convulsion of sobbing, in pity for all she had seen. She had no thoughts left for their earlier, personal encounter. For a time Grenville stood there, braced to take the motion of the raft. The wind continued brisk and undiminished. Aided by tides, which had turned an hour earlier, to flow in its general direction, it drove the raft steadily onward over miles of gray, unresting sea. The water slopped up between the slats whereon Elaine was sitting. She was cold, despite the tropic latitude. She was hopeful, only because she wished to contribute no unnecessary worry to the man. Grenville at length sat down at her side, but they made no effort to converse. Elaine was exhausted by the sickening strain and the shock of that tragic end. For an hour or more she sat there limply, being constantly wet by the waves. She attempted, finally, to curl herself down and make a pillow of her arm, and there she sank into something akin to sleep. Gently Grenville thrust out his foot and lifted her head upon the cushion of flesh above his ankle. The night wore slowly on. Three o'clock came grayly over the world-edge, where the waves made a scalloped horizon. Slowly the watery universe expanded, as the dawn-light palely increased. By four Grenville's gaze could search all the round of the ocean, but nothing broke either sky or sea. Five o'clock developed merely color on the water, but no sign of a sail or a funnel. Elaine still slept, while Grenville, cramped almost beyond endurance, refused to move, and thereby disturb her slumber. But at six, as he turned for the fiftieth time to scan the limited horizon, he started so unwittingly, at sight of a tree and headland, flatly erected, like a bit of sawed-out stage scenery, above the waste of billows, that Elaine sat up at once. "It's land!" he said. "We're drifting to some sort of land!" She was still too hazy in her mind, and puzzled by their surroundings, to grasp the situation promptly. "Land?" she repeated. "Oh!" and a rush of hideous memories swept confusedly upon her till she shivered, gazing at the water. Grenville had risen to his feet, and Elaine now rose beside him. Somewhat more of the flat, wide protrusion from the sea became thus visible to both. It still appeared of insignificant extent, a blue and featureless patch against the sky, with one half-stripped tree upon its summit. "I should say it's an island," Grenville added, quietly, restraining an exultation that might prove premature. "It is still some miles away." "There must be someone there," Elaine replied, with an eagerness that betrayed her anxious state of mind. "Almost anyone would certainly help us a little." What doubts he entertained of some of the island inhabitants in this particular section of the world, Sidney chose to keep to himself. "It's land!" he said, as he had before. "That means everything!" "Do you know of any island that ought to be in this locality?" "I haven't the remotest notion where we are--except we are somewhere, broadly speaking, in the neighborhood of the Malay peninsula. The steamer must have drifted tremendously out of her course after we lost our rudder." "Have you been awake for long?" "I haven't slept." "Have you seen or heard anything of any of the others?" "Not a sign.... We may find some of them, landed on this island." He had no such hope, and this she felt. She summoned a heart full of courage to meet the situation, however, and gazed off afar at the misty terra incognita enlarging imperceptibly as they drifted deliberately onward. "It's fortunate," she said, "the steamers pass this way." "Yes," he said, unwilling to shake this solitary hope that brightened her uncertain prospect, but he knew they were leagues from the nearest track that the ocean steamers plowed. "And I trust we'll find it entirely comfortable while we're waiting," he added. "We're sure to get dry and find something fit to eat." She was silent for a moment. A sense of constraint was returning at last for their scene of the previous day. "It seems to be rather far away," was all she said. "About another hour--if the breeze and tide continue favorable." It was nearer an hour and a half, however, before they were finally abreast the headland with the tree, and swinging and turning slowly by the island's coast on the surface of a complicated tide. The features of the land had developed practically everything usual to this latitude except habitations of men. That it was entirely surrounded by water was convincingly established. Indeed, it was not an extensive outcrop of some ocean-buried range, and, despite the luxuriance of its various patches of greenery and jungle, it was decidedly rugged in formation. The edge past which the raft was leisurely floating was a broken and cavern-pitted wall of rock affording no promise of a landing. Above this loomed the solitary tree that Grenville had seen from a distance. Nothing suggestive of hearth smoke arose against the sky from one end of the place to the other. This one vital fact, in her excitement, Elaine entirely overlooked. She likewise failed to note the look of concern that Grenville could not have banished from his eyes. The prospect of reaching a dry, firm soil outweighed her immediate worries. "Couldn't we paddle in closer?" she said. "Where do you mean to land?" "Where the Fates shall please," he answered, grimly. "Without even a line for me to take ashore we must not be over fastidious." "We could swim--if we have to," she told him, bravely. "We seem to be floating farther out." They were, at that particular moment. The powerful current carried them swiftly seaward a considerable distance, till at length the raft was drawn to a species of whirlpool, some two hundred yards in diameter, the inner rim of which was depositing weed at the edge of something like an estuary, indenting the shore of the island. On the huge circumference of this whirlpool they were finally rounding towards the one bit of beach that Grenville had been able to discover. Yet when they approached within almost touching distance of this sunlit strand, the current failed, permitting the breeze to waft them again towards the center. "Stand by to go ashore," said Grenville, resolving suddenly on his course, and overboard he slipped, at the float's outer edge, and, using his legs like a powerful frog, he pushed at the raft with sufficient force to overcome the action of the wind. For a moment his efforts seemed in vain--and then the clumsy affair nosed reluctantly shoreward an inch, and was once more assisted by the tide. Ten feet out he found the water shallow and, planting his feet on the solid sand, drove the raft at once to the estuary's edge, where Elaine leaped lightly ashore. Some startled creature slipped abruptly into the pool that the tiny harbor formed. This escaped Elaine's attention. A moment later the raft rode scrapingly over a bar that all but locked the inlet, and Grenville stood dripping on the sand. "Welcome to our city," said he, an irrepressible emotion of joyousness and relief possessing him completely at the moment, and, going at once to the near-by growth, where a long stout limb had been broken from a tree, he dragged this severed member forth to the beach and across the estuary's mouth, where it effectually blocked the channel against the raft's escape. Then he folded a couple of large-sized leaves with his hands, secured each with a slender twig, and, giving one to Elaine for a cap, placed the other upon his head. Elaine was no less relieved than he, so elastic and buoyant is youth. "The villages must be on the farther side," she said. "What language do you suppose the natives speak?" "Well--doubtless some Simian, in any case," he answered, having fancied one movement half seen in the trees beyond was made by an ape or a monkey. "I'd suggest you recall your fondness for fruit for breakfast." She comprehended his meaning with amazing promptness. Her face took on its serious expression. "You don't believe we shall find the island inhabited? We shall have only fruit this morning?" "I am sure we shall find some fruit," he said, "and we must certainly look for water." A sense of helplessness and despair attacked Elaine momentarily. She began to wonder, with alarm, how long they might be stranded on the place--and what attitude Grenville might assume. She had thoroughly comprehended the passion of his nature in the outburst she had seen. A sense of distrust she dared not show came creeping to her mind. "We must make the best of it, of course," she said, as calmly as possible. "We can't even light a fire, I suppose." "I certainly have no matches," he answered, cheerfully. "All I had were in my coat. Suppose we explore the island first and leave despair till after breakfast." She met his gaze with fearless eyes that set his heart to pounding. "I shall never despair," she answered, more bravely than she felt,--"at least, I shall try to do my part, till we are taken off." He understood the challenge in her attitude. "I felt that from the first," he answered, easily. "Perhaps we'd better begin by climbing up to the headland." He caught up a short, heavy stick and turned about to force a way up through the rocks and tangled growth between the shore and summit. And what a figure he presented--even to the frightened girl, whose anger still lingered in her veins--stripped, as he was, to his shirtsleeves, a powerful, active being, masterful and unafraid. With a strange, dreadful sense of isolation and the primitive, aye, even primal, conditions in which they had been cast, she followed helplessly at his heels for their first real look at the island. CHAPTER V THE ISLAND The ascent was steep and difficult, so unbroken was the undergrowth, except where jagged and pitted rocks rose grayly on the slope. Bananas, nut palms, and mangoes Grenville promptly noted. Indeed, every tropical tree, shrub, and fruit of which he had ever learned was represented in the thicket, together with long, snake-like creepers, huge ferns, and many plants with which he had no acquaintance. There was abundant life in all directions. Here, with a grunt, and beyond with a bound of startled surprise, some animal scuttled to cover in alarm at their approach. A small flock of parrots abruptly arose, flashing their brilliant plumage in the sunlight and screaming raucously. Half a dozen leeches, clinging firmly to the fat, green leaves next the ground, where all was moist and shaded, attracted Grenville's notice as they lifted their heads and groped about for flesh upon which to fasten. Here and there in the tree tops a monkey obscured a patch of sky for a moment and chattered or squeaked a warning to his kind. Grenville, almost wholly convinced that man seldom or never visited the place, and puzzled to account for a fact so extraordinary, now emerged at the edge of a natural clearing and promptly discovered a small patch of sugar cane, reared above the grass and vines. He was certain that man had brought it to the island. A half minute later he underwent a decidedly complex set of emotions. He was barely five feet ahead of Elaine, who was following blindly in his trail, a prey to new dreads of all the sounds about them, when he halted in a tense and rigid attitude of alertness. Elaine glanced quickly ahead. Apparently a patch of orange sunlight was lifting from the grass. Then Elaine, too, saw the black, irregular stripes, the huge, topaz eyes, and the lazy movement of a mighty shoulder muscle, as the beast before them arose and blocked their path. It was not the fact that he had rarely if ever seen a tiger so large that most impressed the man, thus unexpectedly confronted by this unfrightened monarch of the island--_the brute bore a collar about his neck, gleaming with gold and the facets of some sort of jewels_! He had obviously once been a captive! He knew the form of man, if not his nature! For a moment or more there was absolute stillness in that grassy arena, where two world-old enemies stood face to face in their first, preliminary contest of courage. A certain arrogance, a contempt of all possible adversaries, here in his undisputed realm, shone unmistakably in the eyes of the motionless brute. His paunch was rounded significantly. He had recently dined. Grenville could think of but one thing to do, unarmed as he was, and unwilling to compromise an encounter so vitally important. He let out a shout such as a demon might have uttered, and, rushing madly forward, with his club upraised, yelled again and again, his aspect one to strike terror to the heart of a giant. He was almost upon the astonished tiger when the brute abruptly fled. The roar the great beast delivered, as he bounded from sight in the jungle, was the sullen note of a creature that obeys, reluctantly, the command of one superior to himself. "Now, then, a little discretionary haste," said Grenville, quickly returning to Elaine. "I prefer the top of the rocks." But she did not move, so helpless was her will and so rigid all her being. Once more, with his arm about her waist, Sidney firmly urged her forward, on a beaten trail he took no time to study. It led in a tortuous manner up the last steep acclivity, where, with every rod, the growth became less luxuriant, and the rocks more thickly strewn. Thus they presently came upon a second natural clearing, a sort of uneven terrace, some fifty feet lower than the dominating headland crowned by the solitary tree. The trail to this final eminence was plainly scored along a narrow, crumbling ledge, where the volcanic tufa, comprising the ancient upheaval, had for years disintegrated in a honeycomb fashion that left all the bowlders and even the walls deeply pitted. When they turned about together on this dominating mount, the island lay mapped irregularly beneath them in the purple sea, revealed well-nigh in its entirety. In all its expanse there was not a sign of a human habitation. They knew, without a word of argument, they were absolutely alone on this tropic crumb of empire, sole survivors of the frightful wreck, completely ignorant of their whereabouts, and surrounded not only by savage and inimical jungle brutes, but also by some mystery that was not to be understood. "Well," said Grenville, presently, "such as it is, it's ours." "Ours," said Elaine. A cold little shiver ran along her nerves, at thoughts of her plight between the man she had called a brute, and the still more savage creatures of the jungle. "Where are you going?" she added, as Grenville moved away. "To look about for a moment," he replied, "and then I must pick some breakfast." The examination of the hilltop was promptly concluded. It proved to be a flat, uneven plateau of small dimensions, with precipitous walls on every side, except where the trail led downward. Much loose rock was scattered on its surface. Three-quarters of its boundary rose perpendicularly out of the sea. The remainder plunged down into jungle greenery, and the natural clearing that lay between two dense, rank growths on either side. Not far from the center of the table-rock a fair-sized cave, that bore unmistakable signs of former occupancy and fires once ignited on its floor, afforded a highly acceptable shelter, both from the sun and the elements. It occupied, of course, a position that could be readily and easily defended. There were other, smaller caverns close at hand, but none with a whole or unpierced roof. Fragments of broken clay utensils lay scattered about, together with the whitening bones of small-sized animals that had one time served some denizens for food. There was nothing in or about the principal cave of which Grenville could make the slightest use. The view of the island from this point of vantage was not particularly encouraging. Midway of its rugged bulk, that jutted from the azure tides, and on the side directly opposite the estuary, another wall of rock loomed, gray and barren, above the tops of the trees. Behind this, at the island's farthest, left-hand extremity, a third "intrusion" of volcanic stuff rose to a height only barely lower than this whereon the raftmates stood. It was not, however, flat. A portion only of the estuary was visible--the outer bay, where the raft was plainly floating. Save for areas covered with rock and brush together, the remaining surface of the island appeared to be thickly grown to jungle, the forest comprising foliage of infinite variety. With Elaine walking silently at his side, afraid to be with him, yet more afraid to be alone, Grenville passed from this hasty examination of the island's general topography to a closer inspection of the perpendicular scarp of the terrace. On the seaward side it rose about one hundred feet above the mark of high water. Its right front appeared to overhang its base, a reassuring distance above the highest tree. Across its entire bulk at this place the cliff had once been cracked, and a "slip" had formed a ragged shelf. Then came the slope where the trail was worn, beyond which forty feet or more of unscalable tufa was reared above a section of the jungle once devastated by fire. In the midst of this section, being rapidly reclaimed by vines and creepers, stood the shell of a huge old tree, the heart of which had been consumed, from the roots to its blackened top, leaving walls still thick and solid. "Well," said Sidney, returning again to the principal cave, which he reinspected critically, "it doesn't take long to overlook our possessions. You'd better begin to make yourself at home, while I go below for fodder," and, taking up his club from a ledge where he had let it fall, he went at once down the long-abandoned trail and out across the clearing. Elaine had followed to the scarp, where she watched till he disappeared. How helpless she was in the hands of this man, whose declaration and deeds had so aroused her indignation and hatred, she thoroughly understood. A sickening conviction that days might elapse before she could hope to escape, increased her sense, not only of alarm, but also of distrust in Grenville. His action in taking up his stick had not escaped her attention. Strangely enough, a horrible pang went straight to her breast as she suddenly thought of that tiger again--and of what it might mean if Grenville never returned. Whatever else might happen, nothing could be so terrible as to perish here alone. She tried to assure herself, however, that Grenville was thoroughly competent to cope with the dangers of the place. Yet the silence of the jungle where she had seen him disappear, oppressed her unendurably. Not even a tree was shaken, to indicate where he had gone. Summoning all her resolution, she returned to the cavern, alone. A slab of rock, once doubtless employed for a table, lay with one end resting on the earth, while the other leaned upon a second rock, against the wall of the cave. She lifted this slab to a second prop, then blew the last fragment of dust and sand from its surface, by way of preparing it for breakfast. She looked about, longing for further employment, but, inasmuch as two rude fragments of the rock already reposed beside her table for seats, there was absolutely nothing more she could add, either by way of utensils or furnishings, from the boulders scattered loosely on the terrace. When she thought of leaves, whereon to serve what fruits the jungle might surrender, she started briskly for the trail--but halted at its summit. A horror of unknown things that might be lurking at the thicket's edge impressed itself upon her. Nevertheless, she shook it off, and, descending rapidly, soon filled her arms with large, clean "platters" from a rankly growing plant of the "elephant's ear" variety, then clambered back to her aerie. Two of the leaves she dropped at the bend of the trail and left them there in the sun. Twice after that she returned to the edge, to search all the greenery for Grenville. Her uneasiness respecting his long absence was rapidly increasing when she turned once more toward the cave. He emerged at that moment from the farther thicket of the clearing, came unobserved to the winding trail, and discovered the leaves she had abandoned. He was amazingly "loaded" with similar leaves for breakfast purposes, as well as with fruits, and a singular bowl of water, yet he paused, with a smile upon his lips, to discard every leaf he had provided, in order that Elaine's thoughtful effort at assistance might not be in the least belittled. She met him just as he came to the top, and began to take a portion of his burden. "Oh," she said, "you've found water--or is it the juice of the melon?" "Water," he answered, moving towards the cave. "The bowl is half of a paw-paw, which, next to that spring itself, is the welcomest thing I've discovered." She was glad to note bananas among his several fruits, but she made no further observations. More and more her sense of constraint increased, as she clearly foresaw her dependence upon and intimate association with this man, who had overstepped the bounds of honor to his friend, and to whom she had spoken in such anger. Breakfast was soon begun. Elaine consumed all she could relish of the fruits, although neither the loco (loquet, a yellowish sort of plum), the guava--green and full of seeds--nor the custard apple, which was somewhat sickishly sweet, appealed irresistibly to her fancy. She drank from a leaf, curled up to form a cup, and found the water decidedly refreshing and agreeable, despite the fact it was slightly flavored by the juices of the paw-paw shell in which it had been served. Grenville leaned back, when his appetite was thoroughly appeased, and began to empty his pockets. He produced the remains of his broken knife, a few loose coins, a ring of keys, a pig-skin purse with several pieces of gold as its contents, the stub of a pencil, and his watch, which, by great good fortune, was waterproof, and still in good running condition, despite its several immersions. Elaine was watching his movements, puzzled to guess his intent. "Taking stock," he said, presently, "by way of facing the situation and formulating plans.... These trifling chattels are all I possess in the world--our world, at least--with which to begin certain labors. You probably haven't even hairpins." Elaine had coiled her hair upon a twig. She shook her head, and faintly resented his allusion to the island as a sort of partnership property. Grenville began to segregate his belongings. "Money, keys, pencil, and watch--all mere encumbrances, absolutely worthless. One broken knife--invaluable. We shall require, as soon as possible, water-jugs, basins, cooking utensils, something to make a fire, implements to chop our fuel, some primitive weapons, and tools with which to fashion a boat. I must lose no time in exploring beyond the spring. I have found nothing yet that will especially lend itself to our uses." Elaine's brown eyes were very wide. "You expect to remain here long enough to build a boat, when the raft---- I know it can't be rowed, of course, but--couldn't you try a sail?" "We couldn't sail it in its present form," he answered, "even if we knew which direction to take when we started. With a small, swift boat we might venture a few explorations from the island as a base." She was silent for a moment, and grave. "You haven't much faith, then, in hailing some passing steamer?" "I think it wiser to prepare against a probable wait that may be rather long." He read and understood her impatience with the situation--a situation rendered infinitely more complicated and delicate by what he had dared to say and do the previous afternoon. Once more black dreads that she dared not permit to reveal themselves completely arose to engulf her mind. She could not doubt that Grenville knew, far better than herself, how meager were their hopes of immediate rescue or escape from this exile in the sea. More than anything else, however, she wished to be worthy of and loyal to the man to whom her plighted word had been given. That she owed so much to Grenville already was an added irritation. A braver, finer spirit than she summoned to her needs never rose in a woman's breast. Her eyes met his with a cold look of resolution in their depths. "I know you will show me how to help. I must do my share in everything. Can you tell how long it must have been since anyone was here?" Grenville had never thought her finer--never loved her so madly before. Yet he quelled the merry demons of his nature. "No," he replied, as he took in his hand a bit of bone, bleached cleanly white. "I can't even understand why an island so abundantly supplied with fruits and game, to say nothing of useful woods and the like, should be so utterly abandoned. There seems to be nothing wrong with the place, and much that is quite in its favor." "Perhaps that tiger," she suggested. Sidney shook his head. "It's something that goes a bit deeper--at least, there may once have been something sinister. The natives of all this part of the world are rather accustomed to tigers." Her sense of divination was exceedingly keen. "You think there is something worse? You haven't already encountered something more----" "Nothing," he hastened to interrupt. "The problem of our daily existence affords our greatest present cause for concern--and I frankly admit I considerably relish the prospect of proving we are equal to all that our situation may demand." She was not to be satisfied so readily. "But there may be something wrong with the island?" "Possibly--from a native's point of view." "But--you are almost certain to meet that tiger again." "All the more reason for getting to work at once." He arose in his quick, active manner, and once more surveyed their camp. "A few rocks piled in your doorway," he continued, "and your cave will meet your requirements admirably. I should say mine would better be this small retreat, the roof of which I can readily restore. It is close enough to be neighborly, and is nearer the head of the trail." The smaller cave thus indicated occupied a position suggestive of a sentry's box, before precincts to be guarded. Its opening faced the gateway of the trail, while its size was sufficient for the needs of any primitive man. Elaine, who had mechanically followed Grenville from the shelter, looked resignedly about. She had failed till now to think, concretely, of actually remaining, perhaps night after night, in such a place. "It was terrible!" she said, "--the accident--everything!--terrible!" She suddenly thought of the threat he had made--to compel her to love him as he loved her, before they should reach their home--and shivered anew at the unforeseen predicament in which she was plunged, and hated him more than before. "Bad business," he answered, briefly, "but at present the task before us is to cut a lot of grass and strew it about on the rocks to dry." He opened the stubby blade of his knife, glanced at it ruefully, and, selecting a bit of stone, began to whet its edge. But he halted the action abruptly. A low, weird sound, like a human wail, came from somewhere over behind them. CHAPTER VI VARIOUS DISCOVERIES The sound had no sooner died on the air than a second, far louder, and far more uncanny in its suggestiveness of someone in mortal pain, followed piercingly, up around the rock, and rang in their startled ears. The third sound more resembled a scream. It was immediately succeeded by a chorus of hideous cries and moans, singularly distressing. They rose to a pitch incredible; they seemed to involve every accent of human grief and torture, and to wrap the rock escarpment completely in an agonizing appeal. This chorus sank, but a haunting solo of wailing arose as before, to be followed again by the air-splitting scream, and at length once more by the mingling of many dreadful voices. The island exiles glanced at one another inquiringly, Elaine blanched white with awe. "By Heavens!--it can't be human," Grenville muttered, as the programme recommenced with only a slight variation. To Elaine's dismay he started for the cliff. "Mr. Grenville!" she cried, and helplessly followed where he went. The wail was dying, in a horrid series of feebler repetitions, when Grenville came to the edge of the wall and peered down below at the water. There was absolutely nothing to be seen in any direction. The direful sounds, fast progressing once more to that nerve-destroying climax, appeared to issue from a natural cove, a little along to the left. Grenville continued around the edge, to a point directly above them. But here, as before, there was nothing in all the sea suggestive of boats or beings. The tide, Grenville thought, ran in and out with particular force, reversing at a certain point, and performing singular movements in a basin of hollowed stone. Elaine had paused behind him, a rod or more from the brink. He waited deliberately for all the cycle of sounds to be repeated, then turned away with a smile. "I think we have come upon the explanation of the island's uninhabited condition," he informed the girl, as he came once more to her side. "Those noises are made by the sea, forcing air to some cavern in the cliffs. It is doubtless repeated twice a day at a certain stage of the tide." "It's horrible!" Elaine replied in dread, as a feebler rehearsal of the chorus filled all that tropic breeze, "simply horrible!" "It may be our greatest bit of good fortune," Grenville informed her, sagely. "I much prefer those sirens to a colony of Dyaks who might otherwise live on the place." "We shall have to endure it twice a day?" "Possibly not. I may be entirely mistaken, concerning that. I can only be certain it is caused by the tide, and is, therefore, not to be dreaded." For fully ten minutes, however, the tidal conditions were favorable to the sound's continuance. It subsided by degrees, the last moaning notes possibly more suggestive than the first of beings perishing miserably. Meantime Grenville had gone indifferently about the business of cutting huge armfuls of the tall grass and ferns abundantly supplied in the clearing. This moist and not unfragrant material Elaine in silent helpfulness carried to the top of the terrace, where she spread it about on the rocks. She was certain Grenville was providing far more than they could use in reason, yet although his stubby knife-blade was a poor tool, indeed, for the business, he toiled away unsparingly, blithesomely whistling at his task. "You may be glad by nightfall to burrow into a stack of this hay," he told Elaine as he brought the last load up the trail. "If you wouldn't mind turning it over from time to time I think I'll look about again to get an idea of the island." Elaine had as little inclination to remain on the terrace alone, with all manner of worries respecting Grenville's safety, as she had to follow where he would lead through the shades and thickets of the jungle. She was aware, however, her presence at his side would be more of a care than assistance; while the necessity for his explorations addressed itself clearly to her mind. She made no confession of her natural wish to see him returning promptly. He departed, with his club in hand, quite certain he should not be gone above an hour. He had not, however, reckoned with the jungle. Despite the fact he had set his mind on the region about and beyond the spring, the flow of which formed the estuary, some wonder respecting the area once blackened and cleared by fire attracted his attention immediately upon his descent from the hill. Through a fringe of scrub he forced his way to this region close under the walls, discovering old, charred stumps, many dead saplings, and quantities of half-consumed branches, affording a large supply of fuel. There could be no doubt the fire had raged within the previous year. Human visitors of some complexion had come, left this scar, and departed. Hopeful of some enlightening sign as to who or what they might have been, he searched the earth about and between the shrubs and grasses with considerable care. Not so much as a bone, however, rewarded his scrutinizing gaze. He came to the tree trunk left hollow by the flames, and paused to marvel at its size. Above his head it was four feet through, while the base was certainly eight. An arch had been formed in its substance, near the ground, and into this he curiously peered. Kneeling thus on the earth, he was readily enabled to look straight up through and out at the top. The hollow in the stout old jungle champion was fully two feet in diameter, and almost perfectly round. There was nothing else of interest to be found about the place, save a huge, smooth log, lying with one end resting on a rock, and long enough to make a splendid boat. Attempting the passage of the jungle from this point across to the midway wall of tufa, Grenville expended fully fifteen minutes of the toughest sort of effort, and was then obliged to retreat once more to the trail. He encountered here the first wild animal discovered since his meeting with the tiger. It was a porcupine, bristling with trouble for any attacking beast. Grenville could have slain it with his club. He was fairly on the point of providing this much meat for the sadly empty larder, when the fact that he could ignite no fire deterred his ready weapon. He thought, in that extremity, of his watch, the crystal of which might serve to give him a white-hot spark from the sun. Trusting the porcupine might await the result of his quick experiment, he lost no time in submitting the glass to a trial. It formed a ring of brilliant light on the back of his hand, but the rays would not come to a focus. "Go thy ways," he said to the porcupine, and he continued at once on his own. Observing the trail more closely than he had on his earlier excursion, he presently discovered a divergence to the left that led towards the central wall of stone. Here he frightened a considerable troop of monkeys that swung in a panic of activity through the avenues of foliage overhead. There were likewise sounds of heavier beasts that escaped observation on the moist and thickly cumbered earth. The trail under foot was rather well worn, and not, the man was certain, by the hoofs or feet of brutes. The explanation was presently forthcoming, at least in part, for the path emerged at a clay pit that lay against the frowning tower of stone. Grenville could have shouted for joy as he took a bit of the smooth, sticky substance in his hand, and began thus promptly, in his fancy, making pots and jugs innumerable to meet their every need. The deposit had been previously worked. The evidence of this was unmistakable. But none of the tools employed by former craftsmen had been left for Grenville to discover. He spent some time investigating all the mute signs of former activity expended at the pit, and finally glancing up at the cliff above, abandoned all thought of conquering its summit, and retraced his steps along the trail. Where the path to the spring made a second fork, he continued straight on through the jungle. One glance only of the estuary, tortuously penetrating the waist of the island, was vouchsafed him through the thicket. Beyond this point, in swampy ground, flourished a forest of giant bamboo. The creepers and vines in that immediate section were particularly varied and abundant. The bird life was equally impressive. Hundreds of swallows were skimming in the air, a number of argus pheasants wildly fled from the visitor's presence, parrots screamed and wheeled in huge flocks above the light green bamboo foliage, and several fine flamingoes made shift to find concealment in the reeds. "It's a haunted paradise," Grenville muttered to himself, his thought having gone for a moment to the wails and moans that had startled himself and Elaine. Regretting that his broken knife was a wholly inadequate implement with which to assail such a bamboo stem as he would gladly have taken to the camp, he was once more making his way from the thicket when his foot crashed audibly through something brittle, on the earth. He parted the shrubbery and uttered a low exclamation. He had stepped upon a human skeleton, white and suggestively huddled, every fragment of it perfect--except that it lacked a head. In a certain sort of anxiety Grenville searched about to find the missing member. The skull was not to be discovered. Persuading himself this might be accounted for by many natural explanations, and resolving to keep his discovery entirely to himself, he forced his way around this grewsome inhabitant--and came upon another. This one he did not strike with either foot. It lay outstretched before him, in company with scattered and broken bits of rock--and, like its neighbor, it was headless. Had some monstrous head-hunter written "Dyaks" on all the empty lattice of those human ribs, Grenville could not have been more convinced of what this business meant. He returned to the trail accompanied by a sense of dread that all but sent him back to Elaine. His thought was entirely of her, and of their helplessness, cast thus alone upon this unpeopled island, clean stripped of weapons and of all things else save their wits and bodily strength. "We've got to escape," he told himself in a new, swift fever of impatience. "There is not an hour to lose!" He continued on through the jungle towards the hill at the farther end. CHAPTER VII A GREWSOME GUARDIAN Apparently the trail, that had once been formed through the axis of the island, had been found of little use. It was overgrown by all manner of plants well-nigh to extinction. The region hereabout was obviously the final retreat of many beasts, both timid and bold. Grenville found signs of at least one Malay bear and of many wild hogs in the thickets. He fancied he saw one flash of moving orange, where either his tiger or another of his ilk moved silently through the growth behind him. Of the monkeys there appeared to be no end; and the snakes were amply represented. He was glad for every clearing that he came upon and crossed, and felt a decided sense of relief on achieving his hill at last. This worn old eminence of rock and substances volcanic was far more steep and rugged than the one where he had left Elaine. It possessed no caves, and no particular flatness at the summit. Grenville explored it rapidly, considerably disappointed to find nothing of special utility upon its broken surface. He had hoped for some hard and useful stone at least, if not for actual flints. Completing its round in a haste that the rapidly increasing heat of the day considerably accelerated, he presently came upon an unusual ledge protruding from the slope's unpromising surface. Here he halted in idle curiosity. The ledge was of sulphur--a blow-out from the hill's once molten interior, lying untouched and useless in the sun for the elements to wear away and sluice at last to the sea. With no particular purpose in view, he broke away a fragment, dropped it carelessly into his pocket, and continued on his way. His gaze returned with a certain steadfast eagerness to the hill and camp beyond. He was not precisely disappointed on failing to discover Elaine, who might have been waiting to wave him a signal from the heights; he was somewhat concerned to know if all was well upon her rock. She was not to be seen at all about the place. He clambered to the top of a broken bowlder for a view more comprehensive. This, too, appeared a wasted effort, at least as concerned Elaine. The island map, however, was laid out before him in a manner to complete his former survey of the place. There were several clearings thus revealed that could never be seen from the farther point of vantage. Acknowledging each of these in turn, Grenville was once more about to direct his footsteps homeward when one of the smaller, near-by breaks in the jungle, quite at the top of a species of rift in the island's ruggedness, down upon his left, attracted a second glance. For a moment he fancied some colossal remains, as of an animal long since extinct, were lying there in the clinging embrace of the creepers. He decided, then, it was a boat, but dismissed this notion as preposterous, so high above the water's edge, and so near the island's center, did it lie. About ready to conclude that certain giant shadows contributed much to round out a half-imagined form, his gaze encountered a bowsprit thrust through all the foliage, its identity not to be mistaken. The hull of a ship was undoubtedly there. He hastened down, expectantly, to make its better acquaintance. The wonder when he came there was--how it came to be stranded so high and far above the water. As for the vessel itself, it was merely a rotted old shell, with its cargo bursting through its ribs. So far as Grenville could judge from its fast-decaying remains, it had been an inferior type of the old-fashioned barque, and of very modest dimensions. Its masts, however, were gone, together with every accessible piece of metal that eager hands could remove. Its moldy and slimy old cabin had partially collapsed. Without effecting an entrance through the treacherous deck, Sidney could discover nothing respecting its interior. He could peer through the ribs at several places along the hull, and even near the keel, by stooping low, but the most he could determine by such a superficial examination was that there was nothing even here that he could use. The cargo he thought for a moment to be chalk, or lime. He scraped a clean sample from the weathered heap, and rubbed it in his palm. Its crystalline structure was not that of either lime or chalk. When he placed a particle on his tongue, he dropped all he held with no further interest. The stuff was common saltpeter. That the vessel had been westward bound, perhaps from Borneo, with this mineral common to so much of that tropical section, he understood at once. But to find her stranded thus so loftily was amazing. He scraped at the soil with the toe of his boot to dig below the surface. As he had rather expected, seashells and pebbles of a former beach were readily brought to view. Some old upheaval had undoubtedly lifted beach, vessel, and all to this altitude above the tides, and left it there to decay. Considerably disappointed to find the hulk so completely stripped of the metal furnishings of which he might have wrought some sort of tools or weapons, Grenville hesitated between an impulse to continue home to Elaine without greater delay, and a strong desire to investigate the cabin of the barque. The latter temptation was not to be resisted. He grasped the branch of an overhanging tree and, by dint of much active scrambling, clawing, and thrusting his toes into various chinks, at length gained the planks of the slanted deck and broke his way into the one-time sanctum of the captain and his mates. This, too, had been pillaged with exceptional thoroughness. There was, however, a passageway leading to another apartment beyond, where a door, half open, was revealed by sunlight streaming through the broken roof. Thither Grenville made his way--to behold an extraordinary sight. The place was a room, partitioned off from considerably larger quarters. It contained one object only--a form, half mummy, half skeleton, that had once been a powerful man. _And this was chained to the wall!_ It was sitting propped against the lintel of a second door, a panel of which was raggedly broken out. It had never been robbed of its head. A strong, black beard still remained upon the emaciated face, and the eye-sockets stared straight forward at the door by which the visitor had entered. Grenville was not to be easily dismayed, yet the attitude of this grewsome thing was very far from being pleasant. The being had been almost naked when he perished here alone with a heavy iron band about his waist. All this his visitor swiftly discerned while inclined to turn about and flee the place. He discovered, then, an additional mystery. The skin, in a patch fully six inches square, had disappeared from the helpless being's breast. That it had not wasted away by a natural process was, moreover, perfectly obvious, since the square-cut edges of parchment, which the remainder of his cuticle had become by the mummifying process, were distinctly to be seen. It had been removed with a knife. It appeared to Grenville that the captive had been propped artificially where he sat, as if to guard the passage. A trickle of water, saturated with saltpeter, had served to embalm both his flesh and skin, in part. That the cabin beyond had likewise been despoiled of its treasure was almost a foregone conclusion. However, Sidney stepped closer to the silent form and peered through the broken panel. The room into which he was gazing was dimly lighted by the rays of daylight filtering through a number of cracks which the weather had opened in its ceiling. When his sight grew accustomed to the darkness, he saw that the place had evidently served not only as quarters for the former crew, but likewise as a storage hold for ropes, paints, extra furnishings, and, doubtless, victuals. Its contents lay scattered about in confusion and decay, yet promised more "treasure" for Grenville's needs than all the rest of the vessel. He drove his shoulder against the door, and its lock broke the rotted woodwork away with a suddenness the man had not expected. He passed the mummified guardian at the portal somewhat hurriedly, as he lurched inside the chamber; and he nearly fell across a box that had spilled out a dozen old pieces of brass. Upon these he pounced with avidity, despite the fact they were greenly incrusted with "rust." Among other articles of plunder thus provided to his hand were several row-locks, a broken turnbuckle, a dozen at least of useless hinges, and a hatful of screws more or less cemented together. With vague ideas of employing the metal somehow, he filled his pockets with the smaller articles and looked about for possible tools. From a broken locker in a corner much similar scrap stuff had fallen. Here was a large brass porthole rim, parts of a broken binnacle, half of the brazen cap from a towing-bit, two heavy bronze handles of swords now fallen to pieces with decay, an old brass lantern with a useless lamp, a large coil of excellent copper wire, a ball of lead, and remains of several iron marlinespikes, mere effigies now in flaky rust. From beneath a heap of rotted cordage a greenish cylinder protruded. Grenville drew it forth. It proved to be a small brass cannon, unmounted, and apparently filled with mud. Near by he discovered the rapidly disintegrating remnants of an old-time flintlock musket. This was a priceless treasure, for the flint, which was still intact. He likewise saved a bit of the steel that the cordage had protected. The thin and wasted skeleton of a hand-saw hung upon a hook. When he took the blade between his fingers it fell apart like paper, charred, but still holding its original form. Not an object he found of iron was worth removing to the camp. Resolved to return at an early date, to annex the old cannon and such other heavy bric-à-brac as he could not conveniently carry away to-day, Grenville finally left the mysterious dead man still sitting in chains beside the door, and once more regained the wholesome earth. He finally glanced at his watch. The time was nearly twelve! He had been for at least three hours away from Elaine, who was waiting alone upon the hill! Back to the trail, and then along its sinuous windings through the jungle, he strode at his swiftest pace. When he came to the final clearing before the towering rock, he was all but paralyzed with dread at a bit of drama being there enacted. At the edge of the jungle stood Elaine, her arms and jacket filled with fruits she had gathered against his coming. By the foot of the trail that ascended to their camp, posed in a waiting attitude, his long tail only in motion, gracefully sweeping his great tawny side, was the tiger that wore the golden collar. Not a sound escaped from Elaine's white lips, as she turned to glance across at Sidney. Then she limberly sank on the earth. CHAPTER VIII PRIMITIVE CONDITIONS A short, sharp cry was the only note that Grenville uttered. The tiger had turned his blazing eyes on the man he but partially feared. Sidney was coming less at him than towards the helpless, prostrate form that lay upon the grass. The man had forgotten his danger in his greater concern for Elaine. He reached her side before he confronted the jungle beast, who still remained undecided. Slowly then, deliberately, the malignant animal, superb not only in his strength and splendid proportions, but also in his arrogance, his indifference to man, the master butcher of the world, ran out his tongue to lick his chops, stretched his terrible mouth in a fang-revealing yawn, and trod his way into the thicket. The fruits she had gathered were scattered all about as Grenville lifted Elaine in his arms and carried her up the steep ascent. Not having actually swooned, she had fairly begun to revive once more before he reached the cave. When he placed her down on a heap of half-dried grass she had thrown together while awaiting his return, a faint tinge of color was returning to her face, and her eyes dimly focused upon him. "You've worked too much, that's what it means," he said. "You see you're tired." "I'm--sorry," she faltered, faintly. "I really--didn't mean to be--so weak." "Never mind," he said. "I'll kill the brute. His skin is certainly a beauty." With the utmost apparent indifference to Elaine's recovery, he went at once to the clearing for the bits of old junk he had dropped. When he returned, his mind was still on the tiger. "We've got to live--move about--and not be annoyed," he said. "If I had a single rifle! But I'll get him somehow, soon!" Elaine still remained upon the hay. "If he doesn't get us sooner," she replied, a little grimly, but not as one in fear. "I shall wall up the trail," mused Grenville, aloud, looking about at the quantity of rock so readily afforded. "That much I can do this afternoon." She sat up a bit more sturdily. "I dropped our luncheon, I suppose.... I hope to do better, later on, when I get more used to conditions." She was mortified to think he had been thus promptly obliged to carry her "home" in his arms. "You are doing fairly well," he said, in his off-hand manner. "We shall soon be all right. It's a fine and tight little island." Her one idea was to get away as soon as possible. "Shouldn't we put up a flag, or something, in case a steamer should happen to be passing?" "As soon as I can cut a long bamboo. I must have both tools and fire as promptly as possible." "You must be hungry," she remarked, arising rather weakly and going to the end of her cave, where all the water that remained in the half of the paw-paw shell had been carefully stored, in Grenville's absence. Then, emerging with her burden, she added, "I meant to have your luncheon ready, but we have almost nothing left." "All that you gathered was left by the tiger," he answered, cheerfully. "The beast prefers more solid diet." Once more descending the trail, he presently returned with the fruits that had fallen from her arms. They ate, as before, in the shade of her cave, for the sun on the rocks was becoming hot. "The wall this afternoon," said Grenville, as he finally concluded his simple repast with a drink of tepid water. "Then our mast and signal of distress must be erected. I shall try for fire directly. I must make a bow and some arrows. A clay pit I found will provide us with earthenware utensils, and then--if only I could manage to melt some brass---- You see, the worst of it is, no stone I've discovered on the place is fit to use for a tool." Elaine avoided the boyish gleaming of his gaze. "Are we thrust so far back as the stone age, then? It's really as bad as that?" "Bad?" he said. "It's tremendously diverting. I've got to begin, as it were, with my naked hands. But fortunately, I believe, for us, the bronze and stone ages lap," and he drew from his pockets some bits of the heterogeneous collection he had brought from the rotting barque. "You have found some metal?" Elaine inquired, excitedly. "But where?" "In a wreck that must have arrived here years ago." He related as much as he thought advisable and undisturbing to the thoroughly wondering girl. She could see no possible use for all the rusted bronze and brass he had earned away from the wreck so strangely discovered, but she made no discouraging comments to dampen an ardor which to her was not precisely comprehensible. "I hope I can help," she told him, as she had before. "I'm afraid I'm not very clever." "We'll see," he answered, cheerfully. "Necessity is rather a strict instructor." But she could not assist him with the wall, at which he was presently perspiring. The stones he rolled and carried to the narrowest shelf or ledge that was scaled by the trail were far too heavy for her delicate hands and muscles. "Can't I do something else?" she begged, eager for any employment. "There must be some work I could do." "You might plait a basket of some sort," he said. "We shall need some presently." He thereupon went below again, cut all he could carry of tough and limber creepers, and, fetching them up to the shade of her cave, instructed Elaine in such of the rudiments of basket-weaving as he himself could readily invent, and left her busily employed. The wall he required to prevent any possible night attack on the part of the beast that was already inclined to stalk either one of them, or both, was not of any considerable length, owing to the narrowness of the pass he had chosen to block with bowlders. He had, however, to make it thick and high. By taking advantage of three large blocks, which he rolled down hill to the place selected, he secured a substantial foundation with comparative ease. After that it became a matter merely of carrying stone after stone, from their inexhaustible supply on the summit, to lodge in rough, uneven tiers to the height desired. He had left a narrow gateway next the natural wall that made his structure complete. This he could block with a heavy log, or even more stones, for the night. For fully three hours he wrought prodigiously, returning from time to time to Elaine, to guide and assist her with her basket. Between them they managed to produce from their rough material a crude, misshapen receptacle, coarse of mesh and clumsy, yet strong and not to be despised. Grenville expected to use it to fetch his clay from the pit. It was not until this product of their combined ingenuity was fairly complete that Grenville discovered he could split the bark of the creepers readily, and tear out a smooth white core, like a withe, far more suitable to their uses. He then not only stripped out several full-length cores, but he also found that the bark or covering thus removed was constructed of numerous thread-like strands amazingly tough and long. These fibers were not so readily separated as the core had been from the covering with which they were incorporated, although their recovery was not a difficult operation. His inventive mind saw ample employment for them later. The wall was not entirely finished when, at length, he left it for the day. He was weary in all his bone and sinew, despite the prodding of his will. He had made no attempt at kindling fire, and none towards procuring a mast to erect for a flag of distress. These were tasks that must wait for the morrow, with the others he was eager to attack. The dinner at sundown was necessarily a repetition of the previous meals of the day. It could not be followed by the cheer and comfort of a fire, and the darkness, that drew on rapidly, brought a sense of chill and depression to Elaine, notwithstanding her bravery of spirit. The wind had ceased, except for the merest intermittent puffs of breath that floated upward from the sea. Not even the lapping of the tide against the wall arose to break the silence. The stillness was painfully profound, though Elaine's imagination depicted a hundred nocturnal brutes of the jungle, prowling in every trail and clearing, in a savage quest for blood. As a matter of fact, the nightly tragedies were already well begun. But it was not until some victim shrilly voiced its animal fear and agony, just beneath the towering wall, that Elaine had a realizing sense of her nearness to these creatures of the darkness, or the working of life's inexorable laws. Her mind reverted, by natural process, to all the terrible occurrences crowded into her life within the last couple of days--occurrences that seemed so needlessly tragic, and all the alarms excited in her breast, not only by the frightful accident to the "Inca," but likewise by the almost unknown man upon whom she was now dependent. She recalled with singular vividness every accent, every gesture, look, and deed that had accompanied Grenville's declaration. She burned again, with shame and indignation, to think of the things he had dared to say and do--the treachery done to his friend--the indignity done to herself. She hated him now more intensely than before, since he seemed, by some enormity of purpose, to have been in some manner responsible for the fate that had brought her here in his company, absolutely at his mercy. That his promptness of action had saved her life she willingly and justly conceded--but to fetch her here, all by herself, to an island unpeopled and awful, far from the track of ocean-going steamers--with his threat to compel her love still ringing in her ears--this seemed to outweigh any possible service he had done or could ever accomplish. What would he do, she wondered, on the morrow? When would he speak of his passion again? What means, in this situation, might he presently adopt to coerce the love she knew she should never bestow? There could be no answer to her questions--least of all from the man himself. He, too, had fallen into silence, and a study of the vast and merciless problems, not only of existence till their escape could be effected, but likewise as to how that escape could be attempted, in safety, and where they must steer their ocean course to come to a land which should not prove inhospitable. He seemed, for the time, to have quite forgotten the presence of the girl at the cave. This she finally observed. She wondered, then, what sinister outcome his brooding might presage. Keyed to a pitch of nervous sensibility she had never experienced before, she retired at length within her shelter like a child thrust alone in the dark. Much as she felt she disliked the man, she found herself most reluctant to move very far from his presence, or refuse his protecting care. She was certain her dread of all it meant to be hopelessly cast upon this island, with one doubtful human being only for comfort and companionship, would haunt her to sleeplessness throughout the night. Yet she fell into slumber almost at once, and only dreamed she was still awake and worried. It was still quite early in the evening. Elaine was finally approaching a thoroughly restful oblivion, when a low, moaning wail, and then shrill screams, abruptly ushered once more into play that hideous chorus of the morning, produced by some phenomenon of the tides. "Sidney! Sidney!" came an answering cry; and Grenville arose, to see Elaine running wildly towards him from her cave. CHAPTER IX THE MOTHER OF INVENTION It was not until the entire cycle of haunting sounds had been repeated for its final time that Elaine could consent to return to her pallet of grasses. And even when she had once more knelt upon this improvised bed, she could not consent to resign herself to the mercies of the night without one more glance towards Grenville's cavern. She returned, unseen, to her door, and peered forth through the starlit night, discerning his dimly outlined figure, as he sat before his door. He even arose as she paused there, uncertainly. She noted his listening attitude, the alertness of his pose. Then he sat once more upon the stone at his threshold, where she knew his club lay ready to his hand. A sense of security, despite her bitterness of feeling, came slowly stealing upon her. She went back to her couch and slept. Sidney, for his part, sat there alone, while hour after hour went silently by, and the constellations hung in higher arches. A thousand ramifications of thought he pursued in his active brain. But through them all, like an ever recurrent _motif_, stole a troubled reminder of the tiger, twice encountered in the day. To slay this contemptuous, savage beast that already drooled about the jaws at thoughts of a human morsel, was the one imperative business to be promptly executed. Elaine and himself could live on fruits, and neglect all else, without serious results, for a week, or even a month, but this affair was not to be delayed. He thought of pitfalls, giant traps, and automatic engines of destruction by the score, each deadly device absurdly impracticable and beyond all power of his achievement. His mind, accustomed to civilized ways, ran in higher ingenuities that were absolutely useless in this primal state of their existence. When at length he leaned back against his wall and began to wonder if, in the end, he must arm himself with primitive man's crude bow and arrow, and thus engage the master prowler of the jungle, he was ready for Nature's claims. He slept there, too utterly exhausted to drag himself in to his bed. And there Elaine found him in the morning. That day was a long one, of varied and wearying employments. The wall was finished across the trail, Elaine's too widely opened cavern was partially blocked up with stone, and, at length, in addition to searching the jungle for something particularly downy and inflammable for tinder, to use in making fire, Grenville went with his basket down to the clay pit and fetched sufficient of this moist and plastic material to mould a number of vessels. This last useful art was not, however, immediately attempted. Unfired jugs and basins were absolutely useless--and as yet they had no fire. The search for tinder had resulted only in producing a silken, fluffy material that grew in a fat green pod. It was moist, when found, with the natural juices of the plant. While it dried in the sun, under Elaine's supervision, Grenville worked at a stout, elastic tree-branch to taper out a bow. His stub of a knife-blade served indifferently against the close-grained wood, which, nevertheless, was obliged to yield to his persevering efforts. At noon the weapon, save for the cord, was rudely finished. No arrows had been as yet provided. Obliged at this hour to replenish the camp supply of water, Grenville once more visited the spring. So fresh were the tracks of the tiger here, in the mire about the trickling stream, that he felt they must almost be warm. The brute was undoubtedly near at hand, but, perhaps, well fed, as before. "There is nothing quite so important now as fire," was Grenville's remark, as he once more rejoined Elaine. "Without it we are practically helpless. With it--there is almost nothing we may not hope to achieve." He had thought of a number of extraordinary and highly important implements and arts that only flame and glowing heat could render possible. Elaine brought the fluff she had thoroughly dried, while Grenville cleaned his flint and steel. For an hour, then, he strove in vain to ignite his bit of tinder. It was not at all an easy matter to strike a spark from the stone. What few brilliant specks of incandescence sped occasionally downward like vigor transmuted into swiftly fading stars from Grenville's varied and over-eager strokes, either died on the air or missed their mark or struck it and found it uncongenial. "This must be a vegetable asbestos," he finally declared. "If I had just a pinch of powder, this flint might recognize---- By Jove!" and he started at once to his feet. "I'm the greatest fool on legs!" "What seems to be the trouble?" said Elaine, who could not possibly comprehend his meaning. "Have you made some sort of mistake?" "I've been asleep--my brain defunct! Excuse me half a minute!" He started madly down the trail, running like a boy. Before Elaine could do more than stare in wonder at his antics, he had reached the bottom of the wall, darted across the clearing, and disappeared in the jungle growth beyond. He smashed his way hotly to the wrecked old barque, and, pawing deeply beneath the surface of the wasting saltpeter, that had been for long somewhat protected in the hold, promptly filled two pockets with the mineral, and went racing back as he had come. But beyond the clearing he altered his course to enter the region once blackened by fire. Here he went directly to the hollow tree he had once before examined, and, wriggling inside, through the ample orifice burned out by the flames, he attacked the charred interior with his knife as if his very life depended on his haste. In the briefest time he had chipped off more than a double handful of crisp, but inferior, charcoal. Retreating no less promptly than he had entered, he gathered this carefully in a giant leaf, and hastily rejoined Elaine. "Powder!" he said, belatedly explaining. "Everything lying here and ready, and my brain a howling blank!" To Elaine this was not precisely clear. "There is gunpowder here on the island?" "No! The ingredients merely. But any child---- Ah! here's my bit of sulphur! There's a ton of it ready to be gathered. Powder? I can make enough to blow a dozen tigers into ribbons! The wreck is full of niter and, once we have a fire, I can burn all the jungle into charcoal!" The mystery had not entirely lifted for Elaine, but this she hardly expected. "How can I help?" she asked him, quietly. "There must be something I can do." "It's a matter of grinding these materials," he answered, more calmly, depositing sulphur, saltpeter, and charcoal on a rock before them. "It's a simple composition, after all." Barely less feverishly than before he began a search for suitable stones to employ as mortars and pestles. There were many small bowlders slightly hollowed by the elements, but a number of these had surfaces ready to crumble, and were, therefore, reluctantly discarded. In throwing about some loosely huddled fragments, to liberate a smooth, hard slab of stone that was dished from its edges to its center, Grenville was doubly rewarded by coming upon a large, thick seashell, practically perfect. With this and the basin of harder rock, he returned at once to the shade. He was soon reducing the charcoal, while Elaine no less industriously attacked the lump of sulphur. "We need a little only for a trial," he said, as he presently sifted out his powdered product, and began to grind the niter. "I wish I remembered the proportions." In his haste to obtain results as soon as possible, he finally shook up and ground together a large-sized pinch from each of the three materials, producing thereby a grayish, unpromising mixture, decidedly too rich in both the charcoal and sulphur. This he placed on a rock, a safe distance away, and attacked with his flint and steel. Elaine had ceased her grinding operations, to stand at his side and watch. He struck, perhaps, a dozen times before he produced a shower of sparks--and nothing occurred. He looked at the stuff for a moment, helplessly, discouragement swiftly lodging in his bosom. Half-heartedly he struck the steel again. A single spark flew hotly from the flint. It seemed to curve to the outside edge of the powder. Instantly, however, the mixture was ignited. It did not burn in a quick, fierce flash, but more with a sputtering, imperfect combustion, productive of stifling fumes. Grenville's hand was slightly scorched--but his joy in the triumph was complete. "We're kings!" he cried, sublimely indifferent to genders. "We're monarchs of all we survey!" He leaped up, waving his flint about his head, his face outbeaming the sun. Elaine was vaguely glad of his results. "I'm afraid I don't understand it in the least." "Not at all necessary," he informed her, candidly. "It's the very worst powder ever made. My charcoal is poor and my proportions wrong, and I only half ground it all together. But it burned! That's enough for me--it burned! It assures us a fire, and I'll make a new batch, that will go off like a Spanish revolution!" He went below at once to gather twigs and fuel, bits of dried grass, and other kindling, and brought a large bundle to the terrace. More carefully, then, he mixed and ground his succeeding sample of the powder. Recalling more clearly the accepted formula, he increased the proportion of saltpeter to something nearer seventy-five per cent. of the whole, approximating thus the standard long since established. Aware that, when he finally came to manufacture an explosive of higher efficiency, he would do much better to wet the ingredients and later dry the finished product, he now proceeded, as before, merely to try for a fire. Thus he presently laid a train of his grayish mixture from one small heap to another, in a place selected for his trial. Over one of the powder pyramids he arranged his combustible straws, twigs, and branches with the nicest care. And when, at length, he struck a white-hot star, divinely potential, into the midst of the second heap, a hissing snake of incandescence and smoke darted swiftly along the surface of rock--and his fire leaped into being. On the towering rock, as on an altar, the flames that meant life to the exiled pair rose goldenly bright and clear. A strange exultation in Grenville's prowess possessed Elaine, as she stood by in wonder, looking on his face. "It shall never go out," he told her, presently, "not if I can prevent it." CHAPTER X THE MASTER POACHER There were woods in abundance about the base of the tufa cliff that would burn almost as slowly and retain their glow about as long as the hardest of anthracite coal. Yet it was not on these that Grenville depended, that particular night, to maintain the fire he had conjured from flint and steel. All those long dark hours he served his altar flame with fuel gathered for the purpose. An easier method for its preservation, by means of the woods that were promptly discovered, he adopted, however, very soon. Each day that was ushered in and closed by the island's haunting wails and chorus, now beheld some new development in the plans that Grenville was laying. Elaine, less disturbed by the hideous sounds, might have learned more promptly to accept them as part of the ordeal of living in this extraordinary fashion, had they always come at stated hours. But, born of the tides, they came with the tides, which, all the world over, shift with each day till every hour of the twenty-four has had its visitation. Like a horrid reminder of the brevity of life, the thing was fore-ordered to rise unexpectedly, fret forgetful senses, and linger longest, apparently, in the deadest hours of the night. Concerning her companion, her mind was far more calm. Her distrust and dislike were unabated, but he gave her no cause for added worry. By the third day after his fire had been accomplished, Grenville had considerably altered their aspects and prospects of living. Their bamboo flagpole stood in a crevice of the highest rock, with "rags" of banana leaves idly flapping out a signal of distress; a number of pipkins, large and small, were grayly drying in the sun, to be subsequently fired; his bow was strung, beside three unfeathered arrows, crudely tipped with points that Sidney had pounded out of screws; charcoal was burning, down in the blackened clearing; a number of traps and dead-falls were nearing completion; and several basket loads both of sulphur and saltpeter were stored in caverns, which the man had roofed to protect them from the rain. Much toil had been involved in these achievements. The bamboo pole, for instance, had been most laboriously burned off, close to its base. To accomplish this end, the man had carried coals of fire to the estuary swamp, created a blaze, and repeatedly heated his longest piece of brass, which had slowly charred a channel through the wood when smartly applied to its surface. The cord that secured the "flag" upon this serviceable mast, had been made, like the string for the bow, by twisting together innumerable threads of the fiber imbedded in the bark of the creepers. This had then been "waxed" with the glutinous ooze from the nearest rubber tree, with which the jungle abounded. He had also found wild sisal in the rocky places of the island. This plant had a leaf like a bayonet, sometimes six feet long, and readily split into fibers of most astonishing strength, especially when three were braided into a cord. Considerably to Grenville's amazement, the molding of jugs, some crucibles, and other essential vessels suggested by the presence of the clay, was not at all a simple matter. His material, which at first was mixed too soft, was readily stiffened to a workable consistency, and the bases and first six inches or more of flaring walls of his pipkins had been fashioned as a child would fashion "pies." It was when he undertook to crimp and contract this flaring rim that the craftsmanship known to the potter required once again to be evolved. For a time the longer he wrought at the stubborn material the more completely Grenville was defeated by the clay. He discovered at last, as similar workmen in every age and clime have ultimately discovered, that potteries thus constructed by hand must be built up in rings, one ring at a time, especially where the walls draw in to an ever narrowing diameter. When, at length, this simple fact had been established--the first success having come to Elaine, whose feminine wit had been nimbler far than the man's--a highly respectable family of jugs and useful receptacles had rapidly come into being. Mid-afternoon of this busy day found Grenville engrossed with his labors. Despite the fact they had not yet dined on anything but fruit, he was preparing salt for meat. The shell he had found was full of water from the sea, evaporating rapidly in a bed of hot ashes and coals. This, however, was resigned to Elaine's efficient vigilance, while Sidney worked absorbingly to complete a number of small clay molds designed for the casting of tools. When, at length, the last of these was done and set aside to dry with the jugs and assorted vessels, he glanced briefly up at the sun. There were several hours of this blazing light remaining. Resolved in one moment to hasten to the jungle with his bow and the unfeathered arrows, which might be relied upon at easy range to fly sufficiently straight for all his purposes, Grenville determined in the next to make them a bit more certain. A branch and leaf from a freshly despoiled banana plant had suggested "feathers" for his shafts. It was the work of a moment only to cut out and trim a slender bit of the fibrous branch from which the leaf substance projected. The leaf part itself, which was rather tough, and considerably like a stiffened cloth in texture, he cut to shape no less quickly. Then, binding on each of the arrows a trio of these improvised "rudders," he took up his club, informed Elaine he might be absent half an hour, and descended at once to the clearing. His porcupine, seen no less than half a dozen times when his arms had been burdened, or his club was not at hand, was not to be found for all his elaborate searching, now that he was desirable for dinner. Naturally, Grenville had no particular preference for porcupine where pheasants were not impossible. But the fact that the bristling hedgehog is not to be despised, he knew from past experience. Moreover, he had fondly hoped this somewhat stupid quarry might be readily found and taken. Notwithstanding the fact that for three days past not a sign had been vouchsafed him of the tiger, Grenville took to himself no fulsome sense of security as he made his way slowly through the jungle, towards the estuary swamp. The island was small; the brute was always near--and some day the contest between they two must be waged to a definite conclusion. The axiom is old that the most game is seen when the huntsman has no weapon. It seemed to Grenville, slipping as noiselessly as possible down towards the water, where birds and beasts had always been encountered, that the island had been suddenly deserted. He saw not a thing, beyond the vaguest movements in the trees, perhaps for the very fact he moved so cautiously, and thereby assumed an aspect that was crafty, sinister, or suspicious. Some reptile glided to the water, starting a ripple on the surface, but not even its head was visible to the watchful eyes of the man. An arrow was notched upon his bow, and, while the practice in which he had indulged had been far too brief to develop the skill he knew he might finally acquire, Sidney was certain that up to a range of five or ten yards his shaft would prove fairly deadly. He had heretofore seen no game at all that was not, in fact, almost under his very feet. Of the pheasants, flushed before on at least three separate occasions, he detected not so much as a hint. The monkeys were silent. Not even the noisy parrots flew out with their usual disturbance. All about the growth of bamboo he trod, wherever a space was open, but in vain. Reflecting that the pheasants might have gone beyond, to a section where rocks and shrubbery doubtless afforded the seeds or berries on which they would probably feed, he started more briskly towards the trail that would take him past the wreck. He had not entirely cleared the bamboo growth when, abruptly, there in the open space before him, hardly fifteen feet away, a wild hog paused, fairly startled to inaction where it had entered the clearing from the jungle. It had turned its head to stare at the man inquiringly. Its two little eyes, maliciously gleaming, increased its threatening aspect as the bristles slowly rose on its back. Without making the slightest unnecessary movement, Grenville raised his bow. He drew the arrow fairly to the head. A sharp twang followed instantly. A streak of gray sped swiftly and obliquely towards the earth. Then, for a second, Grenville saw the stout shaft quiver where it was buried in the base of the creature's neck. One challenging grunt the wild hog uttered, starting as if to charge. But the arrow had shattered the nerves that make for rage and courage, cleaving to the seat of life itself. The boar staggered blindly, instinctively, back to the dense, concealing jungle. Grenville heard it grunt once savagely, as it broke its way past interfering branches of the growth. He realized it was escaping, that it might reach a hole or other concealment before it fell, and cheat him of his dinner. He dropped his bow, as a useless impediment in such a tangle, and plunged in a reckless manner through the shrubbery and vines where his quarry was no longer in sight. The hog must have stumbled forward with considerable speed. A vibrating palm, ten feet ahead of his position, urged Sidney impulsively forward. He was baffled and retarded in a most exasperating fashion by the creepers woven through the thicket. Obliged to make a slight detour, he smashed a path between two stout banana palms--and came upon a hidden clearing. There was one unexpectedly violent movement of the growth just opposite, and there he thought his hog was dying. Instantly upon his startled vision impinged a blot of yellow color. The full active form of the tiger was immediately revealed, as the brute leaped forth and sank his teeth in the neck of the sinking boar. There was one shrill mort cry only as the hog became inert. Half raising the limber form in his massive jaws, the while his eyes wildly blazed his challenge to and defiance of the man who had halted in the clearing, the great supple creature, with the studded gold band about his neck, slowly strode once more within the jungle. With a horribly disquieting comprehension of the fact he had doubtless been stalked for the past half hour, which fully accounted for the absence of game along the trails, Grenville retreated from the place. Why he had not been leaped upon and instantly slain was too much to understand--unless the unknown beings who had placed a collar, like a badge of inferiority, upon the animal's neck, had so impressed him with a dread of man that he dared not make an attack. All zest for the hunt had departed from his being when Sidney recovered his bow. Anger and exasperation took its place as he reflected on the ease with which this insolent, fearless beast could continue to rob him of his quarry. And one day, he knew, the animal's boldness would increase to a point where a treacherous leap would restore his undisputed mastery of all this bit of land. "I'll kill him!" said Grenville, unexcitedly. "I'll blow him clean out of his skin!" He went boldly down to the rotting wreck, climbed eagerly up to the slanted cabin, and saluted the dead man, sitting there in chains. "Brother, I've come for the cannon," he said. "There's little else left for you to guard." Although the small bit of ordnance would make a load of fully fifty pounds, Grenville determined, then and there, to make a clean sweep of all the old hulk's remaining bits of brass and bronze not appropriated earlier. He, therefore, heaved the cannon out through a gap in the rotting planks, and began a hurried overhauling of everything left in the lockers. He had drawn out coil upon coil of ancient cordage, that broke like wetted paper in his hands, before the largest and last of the lockers had been emptied of its junk. This was a deep and comparatively sound sort of box beneath a former bunk. Its interior was absolutely dark. Unwilling to overlook the slightest metal object, Grenville got down on his hands and knees, to peer to the farthest corner. There seemed to be nothing remaining in the place. Nevertheless, he reached well inside and swept his hand about the walls, till it came to a slight obstruction. This was a screw-head, so far as he could determine, in the planking just to the left of the door, in one of the nearest corners. He pressed rather heavily against the moldy woodwork, and his fist went through, breaking away a decayed square of wood that had once been a tiny door. Convinced at once that a small and, heretofore, undiscovered locker, of insignificant dimensions, had been made between the walls of two of the usual compartments, he conceived it to be a secret hiding-place, and strained the full length of his reaching arm, blindly to explore its interior. He could not touch its wall at the rear without crawling fully inside the larger locker, and for this he felt but little relish. With a plan worth two of that discomfiting scheme, he arose and kicked out the paneling from the front of the narrow box. Once more he knelt, and thrust his arm to the end of the place. His fingers came gropingly upon a round, metallic object, wedged tightly down between two supports of wood. He broke it out in his vigorous way, and drew it to the light. CHAPTER XI A MYSTERY With an odd sensation tingling in his veins, Grenville examined his find. It was merely a cylinder, made of brass, fully three inches in diameter, and, perhaps, eight inches long. Its cap was rusted so firmly in place that he could not possibly remove it. He gave the tube a shake. There was something inside, but its weight was exceedingly light. Once more he knelt before the secret locker to examine all its walls. But although his fingers finally played upon every square inch of the sides and ceiling, there was nothing further to be found. Apparently the only "treasure" the place had concealed was contained within the tube. He thought of a score of documents the one-time captain of the barque might have thus desired to preserve, but the sun was rapidly nearing its purple horizon, and the old ship's hold was growing dark. Grenville gathered the last of the metal spoils he had found in an empty box, half rotted, on the floor. The tube he thrust firmly in his pocket. What with the cannon balanced on his shoulder, his box of rusted metal hugged beneath his arm, and his bow, club, and arrows clutched tightly in his hand, he presented a singular figure as he finally made his way along the darkening trail, and came at length to the clearing, to be hailed from the heights by Elaine. "Just for the sake of variety," he said, when he came to the terrace with his burdens, "we'll eat one more dinner of fruit." "I couldn't think what you had killed," said Elaine, "when I saw you coming with this," and she placed her foot on the cannon he had gladly dropped to the ground. "What is it, anyway?" "A pop-gun," he said, "to tickle my friend the tiger." She was instantly apprehensive. "You have met him again?" He had no intention of arousing her alarm. "The brute is still about the island. I should like his skin for a rug." "You could really shoot him with this?" "Well--I shall mount it, in any case, though I have my doubts of his standing while I blow a few rocks through his person." When he went for a fresh supply of fruits he brought up a log some four or five feet in length, with a burned-off prong at its end. This he intended to prepare as a "carriage" for the gun. He placed the pronged end down in his fire, to burn out a niche for the little brass piece, which he cleaned of its mud then and there. His preliminary work on the bit of ordnance was soon concluded. When his log had burned to a moderate depth, he removed it to a near-by rock and gouged the charred portions away. Into the hollow thus rudely formed, the breach of the gun loosely fitted, ready to be firmly bound in place. But the day was done, and Elaine had spread their "table," to which Sidney was glad to repair. He had mentioned nothing of the tube still fatly bulging his pocket. Until he should first determine what the cylinder contained, he meant to arouse no unnecessary speculations in the breast of his companion. How much she might yet have to know of the barque and the mummy chained in its cabin he could not determine to-night. That something sinister lurked behind the mystery which this and the two headless skeletons involved was his constantly growing conviction. It was not until night was heavily down, and Elaine had crept gladly to the comfort of her cave, that Grenville produced the brass cylinder, and stirred up new flames of his fire. Then, sitting alone in the ruddy glow, with a rock for a stool, and another before him for an anvil, he scraped all he could of the greenish oxidation from the cover of the tube, and tried, as before, to wrench it off. The stubborn parts remained solidly rusted together. This he had apparently expected. For he took up a rock of convenient size and, gently beating the cylinder just below its union with the cover, he bent it slightly inward about its entire circumference, meanwhile pausing from time to time to thrust his knife between the cemented pieces and force them a little apart. The tube was considerably mangled by this process, while the cover still adhered. In a final burst of impatience, Grenville thrust the battered cap in the crevice between two bowlders and wrenched it roughly away. Then he turned the hollow tube to the light, revealing, within, the edge of some document, thick and loosely rolled. This he readily removed and straightened in his hands, placing the tube beneath his arm. For a moment the parchment seemed, despite the firelight upon it, a mere blank square, of leathery texture and weight. Then he fancied he saw upon its surface some manner of writing, or signs. He resumed his seat and held the thing to the fullest light of the flames. It was yellowish tan in color, a trifle stiff, and inclined to curl to the shape it had held so long. Grenville turned it over, so dim were the characters it bore. There was nothing, however, on its outer side, wherefore he bent more closely towards his wavering light above such signs as he could finally discern. Perhaps the fact that he began by expecting to find some ordinary map, or printed or written characters, for a short time baffled his wits. Howbeit, he began at length to discover the fact that a few large signs or hieroglyphics had been rudely sketched upon the parchment. When this discovery was finally confirmed, he had still considerable difficulty in tracing the lines that comprised these singular designs. The firelight cast dark shadows in certain crease-like traceries that folds in the substance had formed. It was not until he presently managed to discriminate between these mere wrinkles and the "writing," that he made the slightest progress. His eyes at last became more keen to follow the artist's meaning. With his stub of a pencil, on a whittled bit of wood, he began to copy what he "read." The result was, crudely, this: [Illustration: parchment with signs and hieroglyphics] It was not a map; it could hardly be a message--unless expressed in some short-hand system heretofore unknown--yet it must at some time or other have been accounted important to have been so elaborately preserved. Grenville turned it upside down, compared his copy with the original repeatedly, and then examined the parchment with most minute particularity in search of some smaller writing to explain these mysterious signs. There was nothing further to be seen--at least by the light of his fire. Two of the symbols only did he recognize as ever having come to his attention before. These were, first, the lines like a series of M's, and second the oval, about a human figure. This last suggested unmistakably an ancient Egyptian cartouch--the name or title of a king. But containing one sign only, and that apparently representing a mummy, it puzzled the inventor no less than the pyramids and curves. That some either crude or crafty mind had combined this mixture of Egyptian and nondescript hieroglyphics with intent to reveal some secret message or information to other initiated beings, while concealing its import from all accidental beholders of the script, seemed to Grenville perfectly obvious. He sat for three hours replenishing the fire and goading his brain for a key to the puzzle, before it occurred to his mind at last the tube might contain the explanation. All this while he had held it beneath his arm, hard pressed against his body. As he peered down its dark interior once more, he likewise thrust in his fingers. It was they that discovered and fastened upon another sheet of something he had missed. This clung so close to the tube's metal walls he wetted his finger to remove it. The light then shone opaquely through its substance. It was ordinary foolscap paper, the half of a sheet, gone yellowish with age, but otherwise very well preserved. It was covered with roughly scrawled characters. Grenville glanced it through--and irrelevantly longed for a pipe. He felt he should like some good tobacco to assist in the puzzle's solution. He felt convinced, however, that a crude example of the simplest, most primitive cipher was contained upon the sheet. Should the words later prove to be in English he could finally read it all. He began to compare the recurrence of the various symbols at once, discovering that the sign in the form of a cross had been used no less than fourteen times, and was therefore almost certainly E. The next in importance was the figure 3, which he felt might be either A, or N, or S, since these, after E, are among the characters in English spelling most frequently employed. [Illustration: second message] On another clean chip of whittled wood he jotted down a few of the "words" with E's in each instance substituted for the crosses, and then began attempting to make clear sense by substituting A's, N's, and S's for the figure three, the figure one, and open squares, which, he found, had been often represented. It was a blind and tedious business. His fire burned low, in his absorption, and the midnight constellations marched past the zenith of the heavens before he finally realized the folly of his quest. "It's not a bit of good in the world, if I knew all about it," he finally confessed, "no matter what it means." He went to bed. But he did not sleep. Those singular pyramids and the cipher still lingered before his inner vision. What was the mystery hidden behind the dead man chained in the rotting barque, the headless skeletons lying near the swamp, and now these documents, found in the tube and so carefully concealed? "I give it up," he told himself at last, in an effort to dismiss it all and compose his active brain. "I wish I had a stouter tube to make a good bomb for the tiger." He thought perhaps he could use the oxidized cylinder as it was, and began thereupon to wonder how he should make a fuse by which its powder contents might be ignited. Thus he drowsed off at last, with fantastic dreams swiftly solving the sum of his problems. CHAPTER XII AMBITIOUS PLANS Grenville awoke with a brilliant idea, born in his brain as he slept. It was not concerned with the documents found in the old brass receptacle, but entirely with the tiger. He knew how to fashion a fuse. The creepers had answered this latest need, with their bark so readily hollowed. He had burned up yards of the drying stuff with the core removed, all of it shrunk and twisted tight, like long coils of vegetable tubing. He had only to fill it with his powder while green, and then let it dry in the sun. He could likewise fill the useless cylinder, wrap it about to increase its resistance to the powder--and thereby render its explosion far more violent. If, after that, a chance were presented to ignite it under the tiger---- It was possible always, he confessed, the tiger might prove unwilling. However, both the cannon and bomb should be immediately prepared. There could be no peace upon the island while the brute remained alive. All thoughts of the cipher were postponed for evening recreation. The day's work began after breakfast in preparing large quantities of powder. At this Elaine assisted. She was glad of any employment. No less in her veins than in Grenville's the promptings of being in the primitive were daily surging stronger. Like himself, she was hungry for meat; and while she had no thoughts of turning Amazon herself, she felt an increasing interest in all that Grenville was attempting in his task of coping with nature. Meanwhile Sidney was daily assuming a wild and unkempt aspect that he could not possibly avoid. His beard was an unbecoming stubble that he was powerless to shave; his hair was uncombed and a trifle long; his clothing was not without its rents. But what an active, muscular being he appeared, as he moved about at his work! He seemed so thoroughly fearless, so competent and at home with naked Nature. His thoughtfulness, moreover, had no limits, and neither had his cheer. He had made no further disquieting advances, but seemed rather to have forgotten, utterly, the lawless emotions to which he had one day given way. This day it was he started the fires to bake his vessels of clay. They were all sufficiently dry for the purpose, and, huddled together, a bit removed, in a rudely constructed furnace made of rock, were piled about with abundant fuel to provide an even heat. The morning was sped between the various duties. Some ten or more pounds of powder Grenville finally stored in his cave. The labor of grinding and mixing had undergone many interruptions while he attended the fire about his jugs. He finally fetched some creepers from the growth and, stripping out the pliable cores, poured powder in several of the hollow coverings, bound them together, here and there, with fibers, and placed them out on the rocks to dry. With the withes thus provided to his hand, the cannon was bound upon the log he had hollowed a bit to receive it. This he knew to be crude and, perhaps, even quite insufficient, but the gun was, in any event, far too unwieldy for use against the tiger, unless the brute should deliberately pose as a target, in the clearing down below. That mid-day the porcupine once more volunteered for dinner. His services were accepted. Grenville dispatched him with a club--and skinned him in the thicket. He was far too considerate of a woman's sensibilities to fetch the creature into camp, with his arsenal of spears still upon him. But the task of removing the hedgehog's hide was amazingly difficult. Aware of two important facts--namely, that meat too freshly cooked is certain to be tough, while even fresh meat for three hours wrapped in paw-paw leaves becomes incredibly tender, Grenville lost no time, when the skinning was done, in thoroughly swaddling his "game." He had carved it up for more convenient handling. When he finally brought it for Elaine to see, it looked decidedly attractive. "I shall save some scraps for bait," he said. "To-morrow we'll try for fish." What with carving a number of tough, wooden hooks, preparing some line from various fibers, and supplying new fuel to the flames that were firing his needed potteries, his remaining hours were full. At length, in preparation for their dinner of meat, he went below, dug a hole somewhat laboriously in the sand and earth of the clearing, and started another brisk fire in the hollow thus created, Elaine tossing down a few glowing twigs for the purpose. And how brave she looked, he paused to note, as she came to the brink to be of this much assistance! How beautiful she was--and how delicate she seemed, to be cast into such conditions! Despite her sturdiness of heart and limb, she had always been tenderly reared. How far might she go, enduring this life, reduced to savagery? These were thoughts that had come and been banished from his mind innumerable times. There was nothing he could do to alter or even greatly alleviate the hardships by which she was surrounded. Her aloofness from personal contact with himself, even her constant suspicions of his motives, and her lingering indignation for what he had done, he felt every hour of the day. But he could not have begged her forgiveness if he would--and would not have done so if he could. How long would it last, he asked himself--and what would be the end? Would no ship ever come--or how long might it be till succor finally arrived? Would a search be made for the missing boat that had gone to the bottom of the sea? Or, before this could happen, would smaller craft arrive--the strange, swift craft of these eastern waters, manned by fanatical outlaws, pirates, or even the wild, head-hunting Dyaks, who had probably been here before? When he finally placed his meat in the pit, where the fire had burned down to glowing embers, his mind was filled with the many plans he was impatient to materialize without another half hour's delay. He covered the leaf-and-clay-wrapped dinner, first with portions of the coals and heated ashes, and then with all the sand he had dug to make his natural oven, after which he returned to the terrace. Neither the process of cooking, nor that of firing his earthenware could be hastened now by Grenville's presence.. He saw that his pottery furnace was properly supplied with fuel, and then sat down where Elaine was busily plaiting a flat sort of mat with withes she had somehow split to half their former size, and there he began to carve at some slender branches of wood he had brought from down below. "What are you making?" he presently asked, as he watched her nimble fingers at their task. "A platter for the meat," she told him, briefly. "And what are your sticks to become?" "Forks for the same. I hope we shall need no knives.... I must soon find time to dig about and, perhaps, unearth some yams. They are not so good as potatoes, but they answer at a pinch." "You have planned so many things to accomplish," she said. "Do you think you shall ever have the time?" "Can't tell, but meantime I thoroughly enjoy this wresting an existence from more or less stubborn conditions. Just as soon as I eliminate the tiger I shall melt up my pieces of metal to make a number of tools." Elaine looked up at the man in wonder, but not incredulously. "What perfect confidence you seem to have in your ability to accomplish difficult things." His utterance sank a tone lower as he answered: "What I say I'll do--I'll do. What I say I'll have--I'll have." It was the first word he had spoken since their coming to the island that might have been construed as a survival of the feelings he had demonstrated on the steamer. Elaine felt her whole being suddenly burn with strange excitement. She felt the underlying significance of his speech, and her soul was instantly bristling with defiance. His words went too deep and were uttered too gravely for any mere idle boasting. She had already seen, and partially acknowledged, the power that lay in this strong man's hands to compel his desired ends. She felt this potency emanating from him now--and resented the fact that she herself had been as much selected as the tiger for his ultimate conquering. She was angry again on the instant, ready to fight like a very little demon, should he dare so much as lay a finger on her hand. She resolved anew that, though a hundred years should pass before they two escaped this island exile, not the tiniest bud of answering love should ever sprout in her breast. For the past few days she had felt a new sense of security and ease. The man with whom she was working out this singular and intimate existence had made no sign of renewing his advances, had seemed to forget he had ever broached the subject of his passion, and had been a most agreeable companion, cheerful, resourceful, and courageous to the last degree. Now that she knew what unworthy thoughts still lingered beneath the surface of his calm, indifferent demeanor, not even their earlier friendship seemed to her possible again--and for this she was disappointed and annoyed. Her glance had fallen instantly back to her work. That her color burned up, to the tips of her ears for Grenville to see and, perhaps, enjoy, she felt with added irritation. But she would not confess, by word or deed, she understood the meaning of his speech. When she spoke she employed a quiet and common-place tone of voice, and returned to impersonal subjects. "I can understand," she said, "how you might possibly shoot the tiger, but I thought one needed furnaces, tall chimneys, and things, to melt up bronze and brass." "Dead right," he answered, readily. "You see, you've got such a grasp on things that I never cease to be surprised--and delighted. I've engaged quite a chimney already." She forced herself to continue the conversation, if only by way of ignoring the personal element of his answer. "Engaged a chimney?" "You'll see about that, later. If getting the tiger were only half as easy as some of the other things I expect to accomplish, I'd certainly be tickled clean to death." She felt--she almost knew, indeed---that she and her love were classified among the things he expected to "accomplish" so easily at last, and her hot resentment burned hotter. She was tempted to flash out her wildest cry of the loathing--the bitter, eternal loathing--his words had begotten in her bosom. She was tempted again to a desperate wish that the tiger might rend him in pieces--as _she_ would do if ever he touched her again. But she dared not trust herself to speak, or even to show, by the slightest sign, that his threat was comprehended. She clung in desperation to the subject she felt to be safe. "Then--you do think the tiger dangerous--hard, at least, to kill?" "Well, I wouldn't call him exactly plum pudding and gravy." "Your cannon would kill him, though, of course?" "If he'd pose in front of the muzzle, a rod or so away." A cold chill crept along her nerves at thoughts of the savage animal she herself had twice encountered. She wondered just what Grenville's method would be--in overcoming some of the things he had vowed to conquer. "You hardly expect to shoot the creature, then, after all?" He held up the fork he was carving, for critical examination. "I'm rather inclined to favor the plan of leaving a bait in the jungle, and letting go a bomb when he comes to dine." Her natural concern for the man's own safety could not be long expelled. "How shall you know when he comes?" she inquired, and she dared look up as before. Grenville continued to bend his gaze on his labor. "I expect to hang around and see." A sudden fear and sinking of the vitals seized her, unaware. "But--doesn't a tiger usually feed at night?" "His club hours are usually rather late, I believe." "And you'll wait around for him to come in the dark?" "What else can I do? Can't expect him to 'phone me he's arrived." "Oh!" she said, impulsively, "couldn't we build a wall of stone around enough of the fruit for just ourselves? I could help at that. I'd do so gladly!" If an exquisite thrill shot directly to the deeps of Grenville's nature--a thrill aroused by her courage, her generous spirit, her honest and helpful sympathy--he permitted himself to make no sign. Also, he took no fulsome flattery to his soul. But he pictured her forth, with bleeding hands, and torn and grimy garments, as she rolled and carried great stones to the brink, to supply him with blocks for a wall; and his spirit was wondrously glad to think he had made no error of judgment in appraising her character. That all she could do she would do, as mere assistance--do for anyone else in a similar situation, he comprehended fully. But he felt not a whit less exultant for the knowledge of the fact. She was never for a moment a mere useless dependent. She was daily, aye, hourly, assisting in his wholly unequal combat for their lives, and this was a joy to his heart. But he spoke with his usual bluntness, and without a single hint of sympathy in all she had eagerly suggested. "Wholly impractical scheme. I've thought of a dozen just as poor." Elaine was instantly sorry she had proffered him her help. She placed a withe between her teeth, bit through it neatly, and began to divide it with her fingers. "Here, don't do that. You'll spoil your teeth," said Grenville, brusquely. "I'll split you enough for half a day." She made no reply as he went at the withes and split them with skillful ease, but she hoped he could feel, through some sensitive chord, how intensely she disliked him. He could not. "I've been thinking," he said, "I may be obliged to make a loom to weave these fibers into some sort of cloth for garments. May need them before we get away." Elaine once more responded, in her honest, impulsive manner. "I could knit some things, I'm sure, if you'd cut me a pair of needles." "Cut 'em to-night," he answered. "That meat must be done, and my potteries need attention." He dropped in her lap the forks he had roughly completed, and strode away to his fire. CHAPTER XIII A MIDNIGHT VISITOR The porcupine dinner was good. In its ball of clay, Grenville brought it to the cave in the basket that he used for heavy burdens. It was far too hot to be handled carelessly. And when he broke away the earthy covering and leaves, and arranged the steaming pieces on the platter Elaine had prepared, it was perfectly cooked, as tender as quail, and of a flavor surprisingly fine. The banquet, however, would have been immeasurably improved by the commonest of bread and potatoes. To provide some palatable substitute for these essential commonplaces of civilization became another of Grenville's problems, which, he told himself, he must tackle--after the tiger. Everything was after the tiger, or else over-fraught with danger. The thought of this made Grenville fret more than anything demanding his attention. That night, when Elaine had finally retired, he went to his fuses, broke off a length, and returned to light it at his fire. It was still too damp, from the juices of the plant, to burn efficiently. His bomb he, therefore, would not make until the following afternoon. The fire about his potteries he was now permitting to die. It could not be altogether abandoned, since a too sudden cooling of the vessels would crack and ruin every one. Therefore, from time to time, he went to the furnace to regulate the heat. He had leveled a rock for a table, at the fireplace near his cave, and on this he finally spread the mysterious paper and parchment recovered from the tube. They had been all day neglected. Grenville had thoroughly intended a daylight examination of the parchment, concerning the nature of which he was considerably in doubt. A new supply of whittled wooden "tablets" on which to write lay ready to his hand. Scratching at his head with his pencil, he studied the hieroglyphics for an hour or more before he returned to the written sheet with the scrawl spelled out in cipher. As a matter of fact, his mind refused the task on which he was endeavoring to focus his attention. Despite his utmost efforts, his thoughts would return to Elaine. He would have given almost his hope of eternity to secure her absolute comfort and freedom from anxiety. And, inasmuch as the tiger was responsible for much of her worry, his mind was made up that a trial should be made to slay the brute without another day's delay.... It is always so easy to plan! He was finally staring straight into the fire, though his hand still rested on the parchment and the paper. The flames sank lower and lower, wavering finally like dull red spear-heads among the glowing embers. At some fancied sound he turned sharply about, to peer through the darkness of the trail. All appeared as silent and calm as the grave. He wondered if, perhaps, Elaine had arisen to come to her door. She was not to be seen at the indistinct entrance of her cave. He turned once more to stir his fire--then wheeled like one on a pivot. His senses had not been deceived. Beyond, in the darkness, a few feet only from the cavern occupied by Elaine, two blazing coals had been fixed like twin stars by his movement. A sudden recollection that he had failed to close the gap in the wall swept hotly and accusingly through him. Some beast of the jungle had passed the barrier, perhaps to enter the very cave that the wall had been built to protect! With a note that broke the stillness abruptly, Grenville caught up a flaming branch of wood from the mass of embers in the fire, and sprang to the path to the cavern. The prowling animal stood for a moment undecided, then started as if to spring before the oncoming man to the shelter of Elaine's rock retreat, doubtless to turn there in desperation for a mad encounter in the dark. But, perhaps by a yard, the man was there before him. The brute, even then, refused to retreat towards the trail by which it had come. It leaped towards the place where Grenville made his bed--a shadowy form that he knew at last was not the arrogant tiger. It turned for a moment in the mouth of the cave, as if aware this smaller retreat was too shallow for adequate shelter. But before the man could crack his fiery brand upon the creature's head, it leaped wildly past him, growling a savage protest, and reluctantly retreated towards the trail. One more attempt it made, even then, to escape by Grenville's active form, and regain the larger cavern. But his fierce, hot rushes were not to be withstood. It finally turned with another sort of bellow, and cowered uncertainly upon the downward path. After it no less desperately than before, Sidney plunged along the steep descent, his firebrand brightly glowing in the wind. A whine of fear escaped the jungle creature as he slunk at last through Grenville's gate to the outer precincts of the wall. Almost immediately followed a frightful din of growls and wauling. There were certain deep gutturals and mouthings that Grenville was sure his tiger only could produce. There were sounds of a conflict, fierce and bloody, retreating down the trail. Like a battle of cats, enormously exaggerated, with screams and roars intermingled, the disturbance rose on the air. But Grenville had blocked his gate with logs and bowlders, and calmly returned to his place. Elaine was crouching by the fire when he came once more to the terrace. She had called him in vain, and was visibly trembling as his form appeared within the glow. "What was it?" she cried. "What has happened?" "Why--it sounds like a couple of jungle politicians engaged in a tariff argument." "You weren't down there?" "I strolled to the wall, to make sure it was closed for the night." "There was nothing--up here? I dreamed there was something--fighting with you--some terrible creature--like that." She waved her hand towards the hideous sounds, retreating swiftly in the darkness. "Can't understand such a dream," he said. "We've had no corned beef and cabbage. You'd better go back and try again." He started at once for his pottery fire, in his brusque, indifferent manner. Elaine stood there, watching his figure, retreating in the darkness, and made no move to retire. Like a dim silhouette of Vulcan, projected against the reddened glare of his furnace, he presently appeared, from the place where she eagerly kept him in her vision. She felt she could not bear to creep away until he should return. She saw him stand for a little time observing his waning heaps of embers before he faced about to return once more to his seat. Then, slowly, as she heard his footsteps approaching, she glided silently back to her shelter, and so at length within the door. Even then she lingered eagerly, to make certain he was not far away. Until he sat down, and stirred up the flames, she did not return to her couch. "To be so perfectly fearless!" she murmured, half aloud, and so crept away to her dark, uncomfortable cave. Grenville pocketed the documents, still lying face up on his rock. He finally slept beside the fire, to finish his plans in dreams. These plans, which were vague enough that night, matured fairly early in the morning. He had resolved to try for the tiger at the spring. Fully expecting to encounter abundant signs of the animal conflict of the midnight hours, he descended the trail before Elaine had appeared, intent upon removing such evidence of trouble as might be found disturbingly near their tower. There was nothing at all along the trail to show that a fight had taken place. Where the grass and shrubbery began in the clearing below the walls, there was one mere tuft of hair upon a twig. But a rod removed from this there was at least a hint as to what might have caused the engagement. This was a trampled and slightly reddened ring where something had been eaten--some quarry doubtless captured by the smaller of the prowlers, who had found himself suddenly attacked and driven from the feast by the master hunter of the jungle, on whose sacred preserves he had probably dared to poach. Grenville proceeded to the spring, not only to fetch a fresh supply of water, but as well to indulge in a vigorous washing of his hands and face, and to make some observations. He found that by breaking several limbs a none too comfortable seat in the branches of a rubber tree might be prepared, provided he could climb to the perch. With a very long fuse attached to his bomb he might be enabled to execute a coup upon the tiger, under cover of the night. Could he only slay some animal--another wild hog, for instance--and place it here as a lure, his chances of securing the tiger's attendance would be infinitely increased. A number of things were essential to his plan. The first, a rope ladder, was the simplest of the lot. That he could fashion with ease. His greatest problem was the fire with which to ignite his fuse, should he wish to explode his bomb. The wood he had found, that so amazingly retained its glow, might answer his needs for, perhaps, two hours, as he sat high up in the tree. It was all he possessed, and upon it he must needs rely. But how he should manage to discern his beast, in the darkness, when the prowler came at last to drink, was more than he could determine. "A dead-fall might do for the brute," he soliloquized aloud, as the business revolved in his mind. "But I couldn't get one ready by to-night." For several reasons a dead-fall was impracticable. The thought was, therefore, abandoned, while the details of loading and placing the bomb were elaborately planned. So vivid was Grenville's imagination that already he pictured himself high in the tree, heard the tiger come to lap the water, lighted his fuse--and ended that trouble forever. CHAPTER XIV TRUANTS OUT OF SCHOOL He returned to the terrace, lightly whistling. The morning was perfect, a delightfully refreshing zephyr lightly stirring in the trees. Elaine beheld him approaching, and nodded from the cliff. "The jugs look beautiful!" she called, enthusiastically. "The fire is barely warm." He had brought their supply of water in the sea-shell, so variously employed. Before providing fruits for their breakfast, he went to his furnace with Elaine. The firing was complete, though the vessels were not yet cool. A few were cracked, slightly, despite the care that Grenville had exercised, and one was hopelessly ruined. However, he felt the product as a whole was surprisingly satisfactory, especially some of his molds and the crucibles meant for his foundry. "At noon we'll fill a jug with water," he said, "and you'll find it will keep surprisingly cool. The clay is slightly porous. The water oozes through, evaporates on the surface, and thereby chills the contents. They use nothing else in Egypt, and, I think, in Mexico. "If it weren't for the tiger," said Elaine, "I could often go to the spring." "Right ho!" said Grenville, cheerily, believing he understood a wish that lay beneath her speech. "That reminds me. I believe I could manage to deepen a basin I saw in the rock on our lowermost shelf above the sea, back yonder, and easily fill it by dipping salt water with a jug on the end of a rope. Any nymph should enjoy such a pool." "Oh!" said Elaine, delighted by the thought; "do you really think you could make it?" "Well--I've thought of it, you see, on an empty stomach. After breakfast---- There's quite a bit to do, by the way, after breakfast." With the fruits now presently gathered, he brought a fresh supply of creepers and leaves of the sisal, for labors soon to begin. And while Elaine prepared what was left of the meat, and the other things afforded by their larder, he went to the shelf of rock so completely protected by its wall, and made up his mind that, with one good tool, plus a hammer, he could hew out a bath with amazingly little trouble. "Meant to go fishing this morning!" he confessed, as the sight of the clear, limpid tide below aroused new desires in his being. "There must be oysters and many good fish, if I had the time to get them." Fish-lines and other "diversions" were again postponed when the breakfast was concluded, while Grenville braided fibers and tied stout rungs along their length, to form a rude sort of ladder. This he carried to the spring at length, and hung across the limb of his tree by lifting its end on a pole. Once in the tree, he labored diligently, breaking or cutting away a number of interfering branches, and arranging a makeshift for a seat, on which to rest as he waited. The bomb would be better prepared in the afternoon. On his way, returning to the camp, he gathered a bundle of the special wood that he used to retain his fire. It was while he was thus engaged, in an unexplored part of the thicket, that he came upon a fallen tree, fairly brittle with resin. He snapped off branch after branch of this, till his load was too heavy to carry. With all he could take he climbed the trail. A piece that he tried at the embers of his fire blazed promptly enough, producing a volume of thick, black smoke, and a flame that burned slowly down the wood, as he held the lighted end aloft. "If we happen to need a torch," he said to Elaine, who, as usual, was watching results, "this will always be stored here, ready." He placed the fagots in a near-by hollow of the rocks, against possible future need. There was nothing further to be done at the spring until the hour of sunset. The jugs and vessels from the furnace were found to be sufficiently cool for handling, and were brought to the rear of his shelter. The molds he had made excited anew his various ambitions. "To-morrow I shall start operations on the smelter," he told his companion. "No tools means no boat--and no boat means no escape." Elaine felt a bound of excitement in her veins at the mere suggestion of escape. She inquired: "How long will it take to build your boat?" "Can't tell," said Grenville, briefly. "Never built one on a toolless island before." "I only meant about how long," Elaine explained. "It will take at least a week, I suppose." "More likely two," he answered, as before. "Meantime I'm going fishing. Want to come?" Elaine had little liking for any such off-hand invitation. "Not at present, thank you." She turned away from him, coldly. "It's an art and a sport you ought to cultivate," he informed her, cheerfully. "Might sometime keep you from starving." He gathered up the necessary paraphernalia, adding, "I hope the fish will bite," and started on his way. He had fully two hundred feet of the line he had braided from fibers. It was thoroughly "waxed" with juices from the rubber tree, and although it was frequently knotted along its length, it was strong as a wire, and not inclined to kink. His wooden hook was clumsy, but tough as steel, while its point and its barb were exceedingly sharp. Also, the bait he thrust upon it concealed it well, except where the line was stoutly attached. With one of his old rusted hinges for a sinker, it was presently ready for use. He had chosen that protected shelf of rock whereon he meant to hew out a bath for Elaine, since this was the nearest possible approach he could make to the water from the cliff. There, alas! at the very first cast attempted, his line was atrociously tangled, while the hook remained suspended some ten feet up from the tide. In patience he sat himself down on the ledge to restore the line to order. Elaine, who had doubtless pondered wisely on his observation, anent fishing as an art to be acquired, came half reluctantly wandering over to his side, while Grenville was still engrossed with his mess of tangles. She watched him in silence for a time, then, finally, sank to the bench of rock and began to lend her assistance. He made not the slightest comment, and even failed to thank her when the task was finally concluded. Once again, at last, he swung the line for a cast far out in the waters. It seemed to Elaine the hook and sinker would never cease sailing outward. Yet they fell and sank, much closer in than even Grenville had expected. He began to pull it back at once, since there might be rocks on which the hook would foul, and his labor be wholly lost. The sinker, and then the bait, emerged from the crystal depths of brine without so much as a nibble. Again Grenville sent them full length out, and again drew in with no results, save a possible inquiry, far below, where he fancied he saw a gleam of silver. The third cast fared no better than the others. But the fourth was no more than started homeward when a sharp, heavy strike was briskly reported on the line, and Grenville's jerk responded. "Oh! you've got one!--you've got one!" cried Elaine, with all the true pleasure of a sportsman. "Please, please don't let it get away!" Grenville was taking no chances on slack in the line, with his simple wooden hook. He hauled in, hand over fist, while his catch fought madly to escape. With a wild inward dash and a mighty flop, the silvery captive on the barb leaped entirely out of the water. Grenville's answering maneuver with the line, snatching up fully a yard of its length, and instantly stooping to clutch it low again, was all that saved the situation. His fish barely touched the surface, after that, then was swiftly sailing up in air. He was a beautiful specimen of his kind, but the species was new to his captor. "What's the use of going to school?" was Grenville's query, his eyes as bright as a boy's. "The next one may be a whale." The next one, however, was a long time coming. When it was hooked, the wise fisherman knew it was small, and, most unexpectedly, he delivered the line to Elaine. "Now, then, give him the dickens!" he instructed. "You want to make him think he's struck by lightning." Surprised as she was, and unprepared for this particular favor, Elaine did her best, and hauled in valiantly, but the captive got away. Five or six casts were made after that before the hook was once more nibbled. Grenville was rather inclined to change for a spot more popular with the purple water's tribe. Yet he made another of his longest throws, and had drawn in much of the dripping line when a clean young tortoise so deeply swallowed the hook that he could not have spat it out to save him. The fight he offered was tremendous. He dived and skittered through the crystal tides like some giant saucer of dynamics. Whole lines of the brightest silver bubbles arose as he visibly flapped about and scuttled towards the bottom. The line raced wildly here and there, cutting the waves with the sound of something hot and sizzling. But it held for a full half hour of fighting. It was strong enough for the weight of a man, as Grenville afterward declared. It conquered the tortoise finally, and drew him up, but not before he had wearied the fisherman's muscles and greatly fatigued Elaine, who was panting with sheer excitement. "There you are," said Grenville, boyishly exultant, "he's wash basin, comb, a few hairpins, and what-not, all in one, not to mention turtle soup." There was no more fishing done that afternoon, nor were knitting needles carved. What with his turtle, his fish, the digging of several yams, and the making of his bomb, Grenville was amply employed. Elaine was at length made acquainted with his programme for the night. She made no effort to dissuade him from his purpose, but excitement rose in her bosom. She feared for what the tiger might by mischance accomplish, and, also, she felt that in some occult way her own fate and the animal's were alike, if not related--that if such a brute must helplessly succumb to the man's superior prowess, there was no chance at all for anything as feeble as herself. A wild, unreasoning hope was in her breast that the tiger might escape, or die in some different manner--do something, almost anything, rather than contribute one more testimony to Sidney Grenville's might. She could not wish the creature to live, nor yet to injure this bold, audacious man. She only knew that some dread of the being who could dare engage or attack this savage monster of the jungle was once more assailing her quaking heart and stirring her nature to rebellion. In a manner that was largely automatic, she assisted in providing an early evening meal. It was dusk, however, when Grenville was finally ready to leave her on the hill. She followed him down to the gate against the wall, in the way of a child who fears long hours alone. "Good-night," he said to her, cheerily. "If you hear my little imitation of Bunker Hill--you might drop one tear for the departed." Her dread of the night, and the outcome of his excursion, had suddenly increased. "If you kill him," she said, "you'll come home?" He nodded. "Tickled to death and bragging like a pirate." Then he placed the logs and rocks against the barrier, and once more bade her good-night. She waited till his final footsteps died away in the gloom, then hastened once more to the brink above for a final glimpse of his form. He had passed, however, across the clearing, and not even the spark that he bore to the gathering darkness threw her back a dull red ray. He had lost little time after leaving the foot of the trail. The jungle was wrapped in somber shadows as he made his way to the spring. Some nimble little creature leaped lightly away when he came to the place. Otherwise there was not a sign or a sound to disturb the ringing silence. His bomb he placed beside the ebon water, where a ledge of rock would throw its violence outward. The fuse, which he carefully uncoiled and laid upon the grass, was amply long to meet his needs. At length, with his fire-stick held between his teeth, he ascended the ladder to his perch. The end of the fuse he now brought to the limb, conveniently near for lighting. Then he settled himself to wait. Once he blew on the coal slowly eating his brand, to clean the incandescent cone. Of a sudden, then, he heard the sound of something directly beneath him, rudely brushing the foliage aside. His heart for a second stood still. CHAPTER XV A NIGHT IN THE JUNGLE It was not the tiger Grenville heard above the pounding of his heart. The squealing of some little insignificant beast, apparently more in sport than apprehension, betrayed very soon the fact that no sinister visitor was even prowling near. So heavy a sound as the little brute had made would doubtless be avoided when the master of the jungle should arrive. All the excitement unduly engendered in Grenville's system rapidly subsided. He listened as intently as before, and peered below in an effort to pierce the densest shadows, but could not detect the form or whereabouts of his early visitor. He doubted if this small creature drank, since the pool of the spring was still quite clearly visible, like a surface half of ebony and half of tarnished silver. At length the absolute silence prevailed as it had before. Save for the lightest of zephyrs, that barely sufficed to fan the topmost foliage, not even the slightest stir could be detected. The darkness below became absolute, where shadows, tree-trunks, and thicket all blended into one. A portion only of the pool was now discernible, and in this, clearly mirrored, were two bright stars, that burned dull gold in the ebon. Grenville sat back in his lumpy perch and blew, as before, on his coal. Its slender wreath of invisible smoke ascended pungently. The hour was still very early for nocturnal business to begin. The tiger might not come till midnight. Sidney reflected that the brute would doubtless eat before a drink would be desired. He regretted, vainly, that no bait had finally been provided. Even the fish they had only partially eaten for dinner might have been attractive to the tiger. Any price now would be cheap enough to rid themselves of this terror. His reflections ran the gamut of their island world, and sped far over seas. He thought of that day with Fenton, and of what this friend would think. Had they heard the news, in that far-away home, of the steamer gone down with every soul? He thought of the morning he had greeted Elaine--and the something that had happened to his nature. He remembered in detail every hour of every day they had spent together on the steamer. Then the hideous details of all that last experience, in the storm and night, paraded by for his review. One after another the swiftly moving procession of events brought him back to this present hour. He was, then, confronted once again by the questions--how long would it last?--how might it end? The island's mystery impinged once more on his varied cogitations, making him wish he might have had a torch, by which to study the documents reposing in his pocket. Mentally picturing forth the signs on the leathery piece of parchment, he busied himself for above an hour for a clew as to what they could mean. They suggested nothing to his mind that made the slightest sense. He tried to recall the characters on the "explanatory" sheet. But this was a hopeless task. Aware of the value of deduction, he began on a reasoning line. Anything to occupy his thoughts and time till the hour when the tiger might have fed, and would come for his evening drink, was highly welcome. He began by a natural presumption that both the documents, found together in the tube, and so carefully concealed, related to this particular island. Did they not, then of what possible value would be their final decipherment and solution? Granting this premise, then what should follow next? Certainly some mention of the island--with its name--in the written message, at least. There would naturally be, in these circumstances, some word in the cipher spelling "Island"--but what would the place be called? Such places, he knew, were frequently named quite unofficially, by wandering sailors, adventurers, and drifters on the sea. Attempting to level his state of mind to that of such human beings, he wondered what he, if left to himself, would christen this bit of rock and jungle. So often, he reflected, a place was named for its appearance. This one, for instance, might aptly be called "Three Rocks," "Three Walls," or "Three Towers." He remembered, finally, the abominable sounds produced by the tides twice daily--sounds he had thought might have frightened the natives away. The cognomen, "Haunted Island," might not seem wholly inappropriate to a superstitious mind. The more he reflected, the more certain he felt that some one of the names suggested to his mind might also have occurred to those of others. Considerably aroused in his centers of curiosity, and convinced that even by the dull cherry glow of his firebrand he might be enabled to confirm or confute his theory, he moved sufficiently to draw from his pocket the closely folded documents, and held them up to his torch. The one with the inexplicable signs he promptly returned as of no immediate avail. At that instant his attention was arrested, by a sound below him on the earth. Something, he thought, was lapping at the water! He leaned far forward, tense and rigid on the limb, shielding his spark in one of his hands, while he peered about the pool. There was nothing he could possibly discern--no form of a head projected out to obliterate his stars. Yet the sounds at the edge of the silent basin rose distinctly to his ears. All but ready to bend to the end of his fuse, and touch his fire upon it, he paused, looked closer, saw ripples move to disturb his mirrored planets--and then beheld some form darkly limned on the waters. For a moment he was certain his insolent tiger was there. Some huge blunt muzzle seemed inkily contrasted with the dull gray surface of the spring. Then the muzzle suddenly detached itself from the imagined form behind. The entire figure of some little beast was seen as it waded the pool. Once more, disgustedly, Grenville reclined and relaxed the strain on his nerves. It was some time, then, before he thought to return to his quest of the cipher. He remembered, finally, he had meant to count the characters in some of the words to see if the number of signs thus used might not correspond with the number employed in "Island," "Three," "Haunted," "Wall," or "Tower." A dull red glow, of most unsatisfactory dimensions and illuminative capacity, was the most he could procure from his brand. It barely sufficed to present the "writing" to his vision. For a moment, indeed, he despaired of discriminating clearly between the ending of one word and the beginning of the next. Fortunately, however, the writer had used large periods between his every word. Considerably to Grenville's satisfaction, the third word thus denoted he was almost convinced was "Three." Not only had it the proper number of letters, or signs, but the two final characters were exactly alike, and both were the crosses he had previously selected as probably representing E. The next word along, he was equally certain, was either "Wall" or "Hill." Its two final characters were the same particular sign repeated, while its meaning, in conjunction with the preceding word "Three," fulfilled his logical deduction. A word of two characters followed this, and then, to Grenville's intense delight, occurred a word of seven letters, which not only met the numerical requirements of "Haunted," but, also, in proper sequence, employed the various letter-signs already somewhat proved by the word he felt certain was "Three." This was more than sufficient evidence on which to base a test of the message's sense, if it were not, indeed, enough of a key with which to decipher the entire inscription. Eagerly fumbling in his pocket for his pencil, with the intention of attempting a bit of substitution of letters for the signs contained upon the sheet, Grenville shifted his position--and the paper fell from his fingers, fluttering obliquely from his sight. He leaned quickly forward, as if to follow the flight of the missive through the darkness so densely spread beneath him. But it disappeared almost instantly--with its mystery still unsolved. On the point of descending, at whatever cost, to recover the important bit of foolscap, Sidney was halted in movement and impulse by some new arrival at the spring. As a matter of fact, two animals were there, as he presently discovered. That neither was his tiger he was presently persuaded, but that one or both were fairly large seemed equally assured. It was certainly not a time to leave the tree. And while the reflection that, perhaps, the silent visitors were leopards was presented to Grenville's mind, and a momentary thought of slaying the pair by igniting his fuse became a strong temptation, he contented himself by staring more or less blindly down upon the place where they seemed to be, and bided his time as before. At nine o'clock it seemed, to the cramped and impatient hunter in the tree, that ages had passed since he bade good-night to Elaine and came to this lonely vigil. There were sounds in abundance about him now, arising from time to time. Some were the cries of the lesser beasts, in the clutches or jaws of their captors; some were sounds of munching. All of them indicated rather grimly the tiger's absence from the scene. There would be no petty murderers thereabout when the arch brute came for his drink. Leaning back once more, and long since weary of his fruitless adventure, Grenville stared at the glowing cone of fire slowly eating away his brand. It was lasting far longer than he had believed would be possible--yet certainly less than one hour more could the consuming substance serve to give him a spark. He could almost fancy he saw a face, in the film of ash upon its surface. He was sure the face was developing a likeness to Elaine. Even the soft clear radiance of her cheek---- How eagerly she had asked concerning his coming "home"--but how far it seemed away.... He could hear her saying "You'll come home ... come home ... come back...." He awoke with a start, for something had burned him on the wrist. The firebrand, all but consumed in his relaxing fingers, had dropped and deposited a blister. In his sudden move to rid himself of the torture to his flesh, he threw off the red-hot candle of wood, and it fell straight downward, sizzling once where it struck in a trickle of the water. Reviling himself for a stupid blunderer, and arousing vividly to a sense of where he was, and why, he began to question the expediency of returning at once to the terrace. He was still debating the wisdom of the move, when the question was decided by the tiger. That belated midnight reveler--the old roué of the jungle--was ushered in with questionable pomp--the panic of lesser brutes in flight. And when he drank, beside the useless bomb, there was no mistaking his presence. He presently paused, half satisfied, and lifted his head, against the shudder of the water, to sniff at the jungle breeze. The wind had betrayed the presence of the man, and the great brute voiced his satisfaction. CHAPTER XVI A DEAD MAN'S SECRET That was a long, weird night in the jungle. What hour it was the tiger finally departed was more than Grenville could have told. And whether the daylight, finally approaching, or a royal disgust, or some easily captured morsel, had served to urge the brute upon his way, was equally unknown. Grenville descended from his perch at last, when the palms and ferns had darkly emerged from the velvety blackness of the thicket. He took up his club, left the bomb in its place, and, searching about, recovered the sheet of parchment dropped in the darkness. Aware that the silently moving enemy might still be lurking by the pathway, he made his way no less boldly from the shadows, and came duly to the hill. His chagrin was complete when he told Elaine that his night had been spent in vain. She had scarcely slept, as he could see, for her face was still pale with worry, while her eyes showed her lack of rest. "I shall try again to-night," he said, but from that he was dissuaded. The strain was too great upon Elaine, if not upon himself. He presently promised to wait a day, and see what might develop. He could not subject his companion to another such session of agonizing worry as Elaine had undergone until he felt more certain of results. But to wait a day in idleness, while he felt that every hour that passed might bring new dangers upon them, could scarcely accord with his intentions. He declared the tiger an arrant coward, who dared not confront him in the day. "We have faced far greater perils than this," he told her, as they ate their simple breakfast, "and we may be called upon to face the like again. We're enormously fortunate to have nothing more than this striped beast to limit our freedom on the island." Elaine could have thought of countless other animals, including snakes, that would amply curtail her roaming inclinations, but she was not in the least in the habit of rehearsing her many dreads. Grenville went promptly to work, after breakfast, fetching clay in the basket from the pit. It was not brought up to the terrace, but dumped in a heap beside the hollow tree, in the burned space under the walls. This tree, he at last explained to Elaine, he intended to use as a smelter. "It's a natural chimney I've annexed," was the way he presented the problem. "If I built a fire in it now, however, it would burn, and be destroyed. I intend to line it with clay--plaster it on, inside, some eight or ten feet high. Then when this fire-resisting substance dries, I can smelt my metal and run it in the molds. The draught will make a prodigious heat--far more than brass requires." "I see," said Elaine. "Meantime I am utterly idle." "I'll cut you those needles. You can knit," he said, "unless you prefer to go fishing." He had come to the camp for one of the jugs in which to carry water for the clay. This task was temporarily abandoned while he sat in the shade, beside Elaine, and carved out the promised tools. These were made of wood, instead of bone, since the latter material was far too hard for his fragment of a blade, and one of the woods provided by the jungle was so straightly grained and elastic, that even a slender splinter would bend like steel before it broke. For a short time after they were finished, he sat there to watch the craft displayed by Elaine's nimble fingers, as a slender bit of the fiber stuff began to accumulate in stitches. "You were made for a home-builder's mate," he said, and arose and left her to her thoughts, and to certain inflammable emotions. He carried his jug down the trail and to the spring, resuming the business in hand. The sight of the pool not only served to arouse his disgust anew, but he was likewise reminded of the documents, reposing still unread in his pocket. The bomb, he knew, should be carried back to camp, lest the fuse become dampened in the thicket. With this and his jug full of water, he hastened back to the foot of the trail--and forgot them both forthwith. The half sheet of paper, readable at last, had enslaved him then and there. He sat on a rock, with the paper on his knee, and was lost to all things else. For a moment he thought, perhaps, he had dreamed of obtaining the key to the hidden message. But one hurried glance at the words he had read convinced him the trick had been done. On the back of the sheet he began at once to jot down the signs of which he felt most certain. The results, as he made them, were these: [Illustration: THREE, HILL, HAUNTED, and their symbols] The next word, according to his deductions, should be "Island." This, he felt, was indisputably confirmed by the fact it contained precisely the required number of "letters," with the sign for L, A, and D, already discovered, occupying their proper positions. He, therefore, added: [Illustration: "ISLAND" and its symbols] to his growing collection of letters, and promptly produced the following results by the process of substitution: [Illustration: many words, and their symbols] There could be so little doubt, after that, concerning such words as "Under," "High," "Important," and "Water," which supplied the characters, U, G, M, P, W, and O, which was also suggested in "Or," before "Haunted," that a bit of additional substitution very promptly cleared the entire affair. Grenville jotted it down, to make sense, in the following fashion: "Under tree, Three-Hill, or Haunted Island, Cave. Get in (during) high water (in) Spring time when noise loud. Important. Make no mistake. Map on Buli shows same." The one word which he felt to be doubtful was "Buli," which, he confessed, might as readily be "Zuli," "Juli," or "Quli," but this was of no significance, one way or another. Its meaning was still obscure. There were several things in the message or statement, however, that confirmed his earlier uneasiness. The principal of these was the statement that it was important for the possible seekers of some cavern under the greater wall of rock to visit the island only during the time when the hideously haunting sounds were at their height. This argued, he thought, that the sounds would finally subside, or altogether cease, when complications--doubtless in the form of visitors--might be expected to develop. That the visitors would be natives and, probably, Dyaks, Grenville could have no doubt. As to what there was in the cave beneath the rock, he had small curiosity only, since it was hardly likely such tools as he desired would be so concealed from a prying world, and tools alone had value for him now. He could not doubt, however, that something there was in the cave here described, for which men had risked their lives. He thought of the headless skeletons, and then of the mummy in chains. Suddenly, at thought of that guardian of the barque, his heart gave an added leap. He snatched from his pocket the parchment referred to as a map. He could instantly see, by the light of day, that the leathery substance was leather, indeed, of the most grewsomely repellent description! It was simply _tanned human skin_! And abruptly he understood that phrase--"Map on Buli shows same." The pyramids represented the island's three great hills, and other signs the cave. The pole with a knob, on the tallest hill, was the tree so near his camp. Aye, the thing was a map in very truth--and once it had been ON Buli! For Buli was he who sat in the barque, chained fast to prevent his escape! _This map he had borne, tattooed on his breast, from which it had finally been stripped!_ CHAPTER XVII FEVERISH EMPLOYMENTS HALTED A species of horror attacked the man on whom the truth had flashed. What abominable cruelties and crimes lay back of the business thus finally to some extent revealed, he could only faintly imagine. He felt quite certain of one or two things, that were not to be told to Elaine. First, he could not for a moment doubt that the barque had been brought to the island with the sole intent and purpose of looting the cave of treasure. He was equally convinced its crew had been foully slaughtered--and their heads removed. This smacked of Dyak atrocities. Finally, there was ample evidence that men of some sort had visited the island long since the wreck was stranded, and probably within the year. He had not required the warning made "important" on the sheet to urge him to haste in preparing a boat with which to attempt an escape. To learn that the haunting sounds of the tide would at length subside was a new and disquieting addition to what he had previously deduced. He had accurately hit upon the natives' superstitious awe of the sounds to account for the island's desertion. How long these invaluable shrieks and moans might be counted upon to continue became a vital question. Could they only last till a boat could be completed, launched, provisioned, and directed away to a safer retreat, he would ask for nothing more. He returned again to an inspection of the "map"--now singularly plain. The island was graphically represented by the three conventional "hills," with the sign for water inscribed at either end. The tree, so conspicuous upon the tallest wall of rock, was no less vividly portrayed. Below this identifying picture of the place the hill with the tree was repeated, with the cave and design for water, while just to the right the detail of the cavern, with more water signs, indicating both high and low tide, was depicted somewhat enlarged. The cartouch was not so readily comprehended. Grenville was inclined to believe it spelled some crude king's name, while the scarab, or beetle, was, of course, an old Egyptian symbol concerned with life and death. It would hardly have been human of Grenville not to wonder about the cave or to contemplate a visit there--just to have the merest look about the place. He even went so far as to wonder if its entrance might not be effected from the upper brink, by means of a longer rope ladder than the one he had already made. He did not, however, seriously contemplate delaying affairs more important to gratify this whim. Indeed, he was fired with new impatience to work night and day against the hour of escape. The thought put him back on his feet, then and there, with the documents stored away. There was no time to lose--not a moment--not even to fool with the tiger! He left his bomb and its fuse upon the rocks, and carried the water to his clay. To line his hollow-tree furnace as promptly as possible must be his first concern. No boat could be made without suitable tools, and---- He wondered how he should make it, even then. The log he had found on the day they arrived was such a huge affair to attack with the implements his limited craft made possible, despite all the bronze he could melt. And yet, without it, he was helpless. The raft was far too clumsy for propulsion. It afforded practically nothing transformable into a boat, as he had no nails, no saw, no anything with which it might be first dismembered, and finally reconstructed. "By Jove!" he exclaimed to himself, aloud, as a new thought crept subtly to his brain. "I can hollow the log with fire!" He went at once to the straight and ample tree-trunk, lying propped upon a rock. Its ends had already been partially consumed, and thereby rounded, in the flames that had ravaged the place. How he could cover such parts as he must not burn with a plaster of his clay, Grenville instantly conceived. And there was the log already lifted away from the earth, for the fire to be kindled beneath! The wisdom of starting this process at once, even before his tools were made, was immediately apparent. Back to his clay heap he hastened eagerly, and, pawing it over to form a hollow pyramid, he poured in the water to soak through the mass, and so make it soft enough to use. A new, unsparing spasm of labor seized the man in that hour, and he worked unremittingly. He felt he had loafed away his time which important requirements demanded. The task of digging the clay from the pit and fetching it up to his hollow tree in the basket, made of creepers, was interminable. The sticks and wooden "spades" he had managed to fashion, not only broke from over-use and straining, but they were dull and heavy and awkward. The basket was scarcely more convenient than the implements in fulfilling its simple function. He could manage to carry its weight upon his head, but at this he had meager skill. For three days he worked to get the clay, or to work it up and apply it with his hands. A considerable portion of the fallen log was thus quite promptly covered. He had then to wait for the clay to dry before his fire could be ignited. The supply of clay he had managed to amass was clearly insufficient. He paused, on one of those warm and breathless afternoons, to set a number of traps in the animal pathways, and construct an awning for Elaine. This was merely a structure before her cave, to support a roof of leaves and grasses. It afforded a shade, however, that was exceedingly grateful. There were numerous interruptions, also, for procuring meat and fruits. Grenville had brought down a pheasant with the last of his two remaining arrows. And not even a quill, supplied by the wings, had blown away from his "store." He had cut new shafts by his evening fire, and tipped them with points of sharpened wood. Elaine had feathered them skillfully, after once being properly directed. Not a sign, all this time, had Grenville seen of the tiger, still haunting the jungle. He had been too industriously engrossed, either to wonder or to care where the brute had recently been lurking. On the fourth warm morning of his toil about the furnace, the reminder came home with a jolt. Some few yards away from the clay pit's edge lay the master murderer's kill. It was part of a freshly eaten boar. Grenville was neither revolted nor angered by the sight. He was suddenly excited with a new hope of getting a certain robe to lay at the feet of Elaine. It never occurred to his eager mind that the brute who bore it might be lying near, in a mood to resent his intrusion here, where the kingly banquet had been left for a sitting again that night. His first concern was to keep away, as far as possible, lest the smell of his boots offend the lordly brute when he finally returned. Meantime such preparations as the scene made possible must not be unduly delayed. The trees above the reddened spot afforded more choice for his necessary perch than he had found on the previous occasion. He rapidly sketched his plans for the night with mental notes and observations. Where the bomb could lie, to prove most efficacious, and still at the same time offer no great menace to himself, was readily determined. The ladder required for ascending to his stand would better be hung on the side most removed from the trail, for which he must a little clear the thicket. His club, without which the visit here at sunset was not to be undertaken, could lean on the tree-trunk while he sat above, since there, should any need arise, he could find it in the dark. He abandoned all thought of treading back and forth from the clay pit to his smelter, and carried his basket away. The ladder he brought at once from the spring, and, expending an hour in more careful preparation for his comfort than had even been possible before, he finally departed from the site of the tiger's gory refreshment, well satisfied with all he had been able to accomplish. He returned to the camp, made a careful examination of the bomb and its fuse, and selected the wood to be finally used in preserving his essential spark of fire. Then, willing at last to turn his attention again to his daily occupation, he once more descended to his clay-covered log and found the plaster sufficiently dry upon it for the first of the burning to be started. He called to Elaine, who threw him down some glowing embers, from the fire always burning near his shelter. All day he found abundant employment, working with flame and clay. The eating away of the log in a manner to leave a hollow shell, could not, he found, be accomplished as swiftly as he had hoped. Moreover, the fires required his constant attention, lest they burn too deeply to right or left, and thus destroy, or considerably impair, the walls he desired to protect. In the afternoon he permitted this fire to die. Until more clay could be plastered about and the blackly charred portions of the wood removed with a tool, the process must be halted. He had still a small section inside his natural smelter to cover before he could undertake the melting of his metal, but his heap of clay was gone. Once more, as he had on the previous occasion, he informed Elaine in the late afternoon of his intentions for the night. Her look of alarm was the only sign that escaped her resolute being. She had silently noted his earlier activity with the bomb and his fire-preserving wood; she was not surprised by his plans. "I shall not be down at the spring," he said, "but over there nearer the clay pit. I have found a place where I rather expect our friend to arrive at a decently early hour." Her eyes were startled and wide. "Do you mean he sleeps where you have been walking every day?" "No--certainly not. But I'm sure he was there last night--and I hope he'll come again." She was quick to divine the unpleasant truth that Grenville was striving to avoid. "You mean--he's been eating there--and left some awful----" "Good pork," he agreed, as he took up his bomb; "a fine wild boar--enough to have done us for a week." She resumed her work of knitting, on a small, round basket-like affair. "I hope there are more of those hogs for him to get," she told him, quietly. "I hope they are easy prey." "Right ho! But I trust he'll not be off with the old pig before he is on with the new. I want him to come to the party there to-night." Elaine looked up for a moment, and thrilled to the look in his eyes. "Yes," she said, "I suppose you do." CHAPTER XVIII AT THE TIGER'S KILL The island twilight was brief. When the sun departed from that speck of verdure in the purple sea, the covetous darkness seemed to form like a presence that had crouched to bide its time. Grenville was early on the scene of the tiger's previous feast. He had no idea how soon after sundown the jungle monarch might appear. It was not such a place as inspired hilarious joy in the heart, in any circumstances. Moreover, one last examination of the bomb and fuse, and one clear impression of the features beneath and about his tree, seemed to Sidney a wise precaution. The day had, therefore, barely ended when he climbed aloft to his perch. The end of the fuse was tied to a limb a little removed from his feet. He closed his eyes and found it with his hand, by way of making certain it should not be missed in the dark. The larger and denser of the forms below, created by shadows and growing plants, he noted in their relation to the kill. The latter was not to be clearly seen, since a screen of leaves he had purposely left to conceal his presence from the banqueter, served to shield it from his view. Finally, closing his eyes again, he practiced retreating behind the trunk itself, as he knew he must do when nothing could be seen and his fuse was finally lighted. This was rather a delicate operation to manage in the dark. He made up his mind it must be calmly done, for ample time would be provided by the generous length of fuse. This length, by the way, was considerably less than he had formerly employed. The bomb was, therefore, nearer to his stand. Yet the bulk of the tree-trunk was, he thought, an entirely adequate protection should he have the delight of hearing his powder explode. Through the lattice of leaves he presently beheld the last of the day's dying splendor. The army of shadows, already on the march, was taking rapid possession of all the jungle deeps. The same impatience he had felt before, the same vague dread and loneliness previously experienced, and the same slow drag of time impressed themselves upon his senses. He wondered how long his brand would last, although it was longer than the other. He wondered about Elaine, on the hill, and how tedious the hours would seem to her. But the constant, underlying worry was--when would the tiger arrive? Elaine's suggestion was a bother. Might there not be hogs so plentiful, quarry so readily captured, that the overdisdainful monarch would prefer warm meat to cold? There was no mysterious cipher to be studied here to-night. There was nothing, in fact, with which to pass the time. Not even a new speculation concerning the cave and the rotting barque arose to give him entertainment. The haunting, suggestive stillness engulfed him where he sat. The world below had merged in one featureless gloom. Except for a few fringed patches of sky between the leaves and branches, there was nothing but velvety blackness to be seen above or below. He waited and waited, a time that seemed eternal. His resting-place was hard and uneven. One of his legs was cramped. To shift about and make no noise was not an easy matter. Without the slightest warning, suddenly down below him something leaped and crashed through the thicket with a most unexpected sound. Whatever it was, it went bounding off, recklessly parting the jungle. Some creature in fright it undoubtedly was--and Grenville was instantly rigid and alert for the next development. He was certain the tiger, coming to his feast, had thrown some timid creature into a panic of blind and desperate fear. He listened, with all his powers of concentration, for the sounds that should presently succeed. But save for another plunging, far beyond, there was absolute silence as before. For fully half an hour after that the stillness was well-nigh insupportable, so fraught was it all with the tragic sense of noiseless life where both hunted and hunters moved about with the cushioned feet of shadows. Far off towards the spring, or the estuary, a disturbance finally arose. It was neither loud nor clear. It seemed to interpret some struggle for life, or pursuit of the weak by the strong. It approached for a time, then ceased for nearly half a minute, only to break into clearer accents of some brute's agony, poignant but mercifully brief. At this the discouragement in Grenville's breast was unavoidably increased. He was certain the tiger had taken fresher prey, and would now ignore his former kill. So intent were his senses on that far-off bit of jungle drama that he failed to detect a nearer sound repeated beneath his feet. When his sharp ears abruptly warned him that something was moving down below, an extraordinary climax to his adventure was swiftly coming to a focus. Some creature had come to the tiger's kill--of that there could be no doubt. It was lapping, or chewing at the meat! Unable to distinguish the slightest thing in all that Stygian darkness, Grenville paused, with his brand slightly shielded from the creature's possible notice, waiting a moment to confirm the fact that a banqueter was present before he touched the fuse. A tremendous roar instantly startled the silence, a few feet beyond the boar's remains. Before the man could move a hand, either to light the ready fuse or steady himself in the branches, some heavy form was hurled against the tree in which he sat--_and that something was climbing madly upward_! Only a tremor had shivered through the trunk, but the limbs were bent and the foliage stirred as if from a breath of heavy wind. That the creature might run against himself and turn to fight, in its double fear and desperation, Grenville was keenly aware. Subconsciously, also, he was equally sure the tiger was below. The catlike thing in the tree with himself had undoubtedly dared to sit down at the huge brute's kill, to flee for its life a moment later. Instinctively turning to protect himself and thoroughly disturbed by this unforeseen complication, Grenville heard his unwelcome companion utter one sudden whine, of surprise and added terror, as it came abreast him in the branches. It dared not retreat, and, therefore in a wilder panic, clawed its way higher up the tree. The limbs continued to shake their leaves for another protracted moment. Then the beast found a place to halt above his head, and doubtless glared down upon the unknown peril which man supplies to all the brutes. Grenville recovered his wits as best he might. He had no particular dread of the animal crouched somewhere in his neighborhood, but neither did he relish its presence. What effect the affair would have on the creature he had come there to engage he could not, of course, determine. He bent to listen for sounds from the space below. Not the faintest suggestion of a moving or feeding animal could his focused senses detect. He thought perhaps the tiger might have smelled him or seen him in the tree. It occurred to him, also, the brute might be waiting for the catlike thief to descend and be slain at the kill. But a far more likely supposition was that the tiger, having sniffed the taint of some beast without caste, now left on the meat that was sacred to himself, had disdained to touch it, and had gone away, to return to the place no more. Ready to curse the despicable animal now sharing the tree's security with himself, Sidney was all but resigned to another long night, spent in vain and in utter discomfort, when once again a lapping sound came crisply to his attention. His brute was at the feast! With heart abruptly pounding and senses suddenly tense, Grenville leaned down, with his glowing brand, to complete his work for the night. His hand felt blindly along the limb, to pick up the end of the fuse. But someway the place was lost. More eagerly then, and telling off each twig like a sign that blazed the trail, he explored the branch anew. He found the fiber that had held the fuse--but the fuse itself was gone! The panic-stricken creature that had climbed the tree had clawed or broken it down! A bitterer disappointment to Grenville could scarcely have been planned. He was sickened all through by disgust, and a sense of the utter uselessness of all he had striven to accomplish. With fire in hand, the bomb all laid, and the tiger actually present--he was helpless, after all! It was futile to rage at the cowering beast, above him somewhere in the darkness. He glanced up once and saw its eyes--two blazing coals of fear and malice, like near-by sinister stars! "By Heavens! I'll not be cheated!" he murmured to himself. A mad new thought had possessed him. The fuse had been drawn about the tree before it could be fastened near his perch. Had it fallen straight down, when torn from its hold, it would still lie close at hand. His ladder was hidden from the tiger's position by the tree. Any sounds he must make might be thought to be those of the cat. There was no particular danger in descending to the ground--with the ladder near with which to regain a safe position. Noiselessly, yet not without excitement, he began his retreat from the branches. With every step he paused for a bit, to listen to the sounds of the tiger. The brute was seemingly quite engrossed in the business of filling his belly. But, despite his utmost efforts at silence, the leaves of one of the branches loudly rustled as Grenville's weight was intrusted to the ladder. He halted and held his breath. The tiger continued his eating. Holding his firebrand firmly in his teeth, Grenville slowly and cautiously descended, with the furtive alertness of a thief. When he reached the earth, he was certain his heart would betray his presence with its pounding. He leaned there, heavily, against the tree, to still the mad leap of his pulses. Then, at length, he began to feel about for the fuse that should be at his feet. It was not to be found--and he moved a little outward. His hand came in contact with a long, slender thing--but it proved to be a creeper. Further and further out he moved, blindly groping with his fingers. He encountered a shrub, and, fumbling between it and the tree, bethought him to feel about its crest. There he found one end of the fuse he sought--but it proved that the length had been broken! He held the useless end! One despair after another had seized him within an endless minute. More recklessly, in a burning fever of impatience, he pawed about and moved even closer to the tiger--whose sounds were horribly near. He could almost have uttered a cry of joy when the severed fuse was discovered. He waited for nothing, but immediately pressed his brand against the sun-dried substance. There was no powder there. It had spilled when it broke, and it harmlessly smoked as it burned. Why a groan did not escape him, Sidney could never have told. He broke off the tough, resisting substance six inches further along and again applied his spark. It seemed as if in all its length there could be no powder remaining. He was savagely grasping the fuse once more, to break it at a fresher place, when a fiery-red line, some four feet away, seemed creeping like a snake out beyond him. The spark that was racing along to the bomb had been started while still he was sweating there with baffled and excited impatience. He took no time for further caution, but sprang away to the shelter of the tree and caught at a lungful of breath. There was not a sound in all the place. This much he knew in that second, as he hugged up close to the trunk. The tiger had ceased to lap at the meat, and perhaps was poised for a spring. It seemed to Grenville, waiting there, that nothing would ever happen. A thousand doubts went darting through his brain. The fuse had failed! It was broken again. Or, perhaps---- A low growl broke the stillness. There was a sound of something moving towards the tree! Instantly a frightful red-and-yellow glare leaped upward from the earth. A deafening, crashing detonation rent the intimate universe and shook down incredible stars. The air was filled to overcrowding with rushing billows of concussion that rocked the trees as in a storm. Grenville went down, dazed and helpless, unable to think, so jarred to chaos were his senses. But, beyond being stunned for a moment, he was totally unhurt. He leaped to his feet, aware of some mighty disturbance in the curdled, heavy darkness that had followed. The tiger it was, in some extravagant activity, moving towards Grenville and the thicket. He was almost upon the staggering man before he could move to escape. Then Grenville stumbled towards the ladder. The jar to the limb, as he tugged at a rung, brought something down from above. This was the creature that had hidden in the tree. It had partially fallen, earlier stunned by the huge concussion. It dropped upon Grenville leadenly--and down he went in a heap. The three sworn enemies--tiger, man, and jungle-cat--were embroiled on the earth together. Before the man could sufficiently recover to stagger from his knees to his feet and grasp his club, the tiger flung out a mighty paw, that struck him a blow upon the chin. Without a sound he sank limberly down, inert and helplessly unconscious. CHAPTER XIX GRENVILLE'S RADIANT STAR Even had sleep overcome Elaine, the explosion must have startled her awake like a wildly fluttering bird. All her life she had known the sound of guns, but never before had her ears received such an air-splitting shock as this. Her alarm could know no bounds. It had come so suddenly and unexpectedly; it had been such a cataclysmic destruction of the island's haunting calm! She was certain some hideous blunder had occurred--that Grenville, too, had perished by the thing he had fearlessly dared to create. She had seen for an instant that fan-like glare, as she gazed far out across the jungle. And now, as she stood there, rigid with fears and fixedly staring at the formless gloom--why did she hear no sound? "Oh, he might--he might call!" she said, and she tried to halloo, but in vain. She waited a time that seemed endless for some little sign from the jungle. He had promised before that, if all went well, he would hasten home at once. Surely this promise held good to-night--especially after that explosion! Perhaps it was not yet time; perhaps it was farther away than she had thought. The glare had seemed near, but he had no torch, and must walk but slowly through the thicket. How dark it must be along the trails, in that tangle growth, with nothing for a light! How could he possibly hasten? She was standing out on the brink of the wall, staring down at the gloom of the clearing, convinced that her ears, if not her eyes, would detect the first sign of his coming. Just the merest red gleam from the firebrand was all she would ask of the darkness--just that dull little star in the firmament of black! But the ebon remained unbroken. That he might be lost occurred to her mind, but again she thought it was yet too soon for his return. She stumbled swiftly to the fire again, to stir it to brighter refulgence. It would seem to him a beacon against the sky to guide his footsteps home! She thought of a blazing brand she could carry to the brink of the wall. With the largest limb afforded by the fire she returned, in haste and eagerness, to wave him a signal of welcome. And still nothing came from the clearing. "Sidney!" she cried through the stillness, at last. "Sidney! Are you there?" The night surrendered no response, save some animal cry far off where the barque was rotting. "If he's dead!" she moaned. "If he's dead!" But he might be wounded and helpless, she thought, with no one to come to his side. He might not be hurt unto death itself--if aid could reach him now! If he died--if he left her thus alone---- A thousand times she preferred to die beside him! "Sidney!" she cried, as before. With a strange dry note, choked back between her lips, she fled once more to the fire. Meantime the man by the tiger's kill continued to lie without motion on the earth. Not even the glow of his cheering brand remained like a sign of life in that silent theater. The jungle cat, smitten and addled in its brain, had dragged itself painfully away to the cover of the thicket, its instinct feebly alive. There was not a sound in all the place, where crash and roar had been so tremendously expended for one prodigious second. A vague, weird dream came finally creeping intangibly through Grenville's brain, resuming an intermittent function. When at length it began a little to clear, he dreamed he was trying his utmost to rise, but something held him down. Consciousness poured a trickle through his being, and he felt he was partially awake. Then a flood, a cataract of surging life, rushing back to its centers, brought confusion and tumult to his thoughts. He was still only partially aroused. His eyes at length were opened. The darkness which their gaze encountered seemed more complete than that of his region of dreams. He attempted to rise, but his muscles and nerves refused their customary obedience to his will. He tried to remember what had happened, but the glancing blow sustained on his chin had blotted him out, temporarily, like a stroke of death itself. And, had the stroke been more direct, his jaw or his neck must have broken. When he raised his head a bit from the ground and propped himself up on his elbow, the sense of dullness and leadlike weight in both his feet and legs continued unabated. He was battling to retain his consciousness. He began to remember, slowly. The process was only well started, however, when it was singularly interrupted. He was staring blankly through the jungle, which he partially recollected. It was funny, he thought, how a star should fall and wander through all those aisles of trees. It was a star, he was fully convinced, coming haltingly through the gloom. Its course was erratic. He lost it at times, but still it persisted in approaching. How beautiful it was--the largest star he had ever known--with its flames divinely ascending. He sat up stiffly, his will momentarily gaining strength to resume the sway of his body. Some mantle partially fell from his brain, to accompany his physical rousing. Then he knew, not only what had happened, but also what was happening. "Elaine!" he tried to call aloud, vainly striving to rise or regain the use of his limbs, then once more he sank in oblivion. A strange, wild note broke from her lips as Elaine came plunging along the trail with a torch redly blazing in her hand, held well above her face. She saw, before she could reach his side, that the tiger lay lifeless upon him. She feared the man was dead, but, with wits exceptionally clear and ordered, she thrust her torch-end firmly in the earth, laid hold of the huge, limber beast she so fearfully dreaded, and tugged and dragged it feverishly off with all her fine young strength. The face of the inert man beside the tree was redly smeared with blood. He lay horribly loose and still upon the grass. She knelt at his side and placed her hands upon him, feeling above his heart. "Sidney!" she said to him. "Sidney! You cannot--you shall not die! I never meant the things I said--or thought--or anything! Oh, please, please don't--don't look like that! You've got to come back--you've got to!" She tore at the band about his neck and lifted his head on her knee. She wiped the red from his pallid face with the hem of her briar-torn skirt. "I'll find the spring!" she told him eagerly, starting as if to rise, but the still form moved, and, dully at first, the two heavy eyes were opened. "Oh!" she said. "Oh, you're hurt. Don't try to do anything but rest.... You didn't come--you didn't come home!" Despite her entreaty, Grenville weakly raised his head and propped himself, half sitting. The weight being gone from his outstretched legs, his normal circulation was returning. He regained his strength with characteristic swiftness. "Hurt?" he said. "No--I don't believe---- I must have got a knockout blow. The tiger? Did I get the tiger?" He sat up uncertainly and, glancing about, saw the huge striped form where Elaine had dragged it from his body. She still remained on her knees, fixedly gazing on his face. Her strength was ebbing rapidly, as Grenville's now returned. "You didn't come home," she repeated, by way of explaining her presence at his side. "I couldn't live here alone." Grenville arose and assisted her weakly to her feet. She stumbled to and leaned against the tree. "By George!" he said, "I'll bet a hat you could!" He knew what courage had come to her aid before she could make her excursion. "I went down like a dub," he added, in his customary manner. "No good excuse, but I do apologize. Better get out of this, I'm thinking." He took up the torch she had planted in the earth, to examine the tiger, dead and mangled in the grass, One of the creature's great front paws had been rudely torn from his body. He could only have escaped instantaneous death by having moved from the bomb at the moment of its explosion. "Your robe looks mussed," Grenville continued, with a gesture towards the animal's motionless body. "But I think it can be washed." Elaine slightly shivered at sight of the frame now done with life. "You've killed him," she said. "I'm glad!" He took her firmly by the arm and led her away through the thicket. When they reached the camp, Elaine was not yet fully convinced that Grenville was uninjured. She brought him a rag she had torn from some of her clothing and begged him to wash his reddened jaw. Even the restoration of his former stubbled complexion could not suffice to bring her that sense of certainty and calm essential before she could sleep. She remained beside him at their fire till long past the midnight hour. Indeed, she had made no move to retire when at length the weird, unwelcome disturbance made by the tide had begun its uncanny chorus. Perhaps she had waited for the conclusion of this added feature of the night's long ritual of nerve-attacking events, for she seemed to be considerably cheered when its final wail had died upon the air. "It seems to me that doesn't continue quite as long as it did at first," she said to Grenville, as she rose at last to go alone to her cavern.... "I think you ought to rest. I wish you would." "I will," said Sidney. "Good-night." But, for some time after she had gone, he sat there wondering if those abominable but protective cries, that haunted the island's solitude, were actually on the wane. "God help us if they are!" he said, to himself, but he went to bed and slept. CHAPTER XX A GIRDLE OF GOLD Elaine had not yet appeared on the scene when Grenville went down to the jungle. The morning hour was still decidedly early, but plans and impatience to be up and at work had prodded the man from his rest. The lassitude that should have followed his night of excitement had not yet laid its weight upon him. Apparently nothing had come to the jungle scene where the tiger had met his end. The great form lay there, torn and rigid, but no sign of the cat could be discovered. Grenville passed his trophy, presently, to examine the space beyond. The spot where the bomb had exploded was a gaping hole in the earth. This was not the place where Grenville had placed the deadly tube, which he knew must therefore have been moved--doubtless when the fuse was pulled and broken by the creature taking refuge in the tree. All about the spot where the kill had been the shrubbery was shredded. The boar's remains had been blown away when the gap was made in the sod. The trail, Grenville saw, must be repaired or a new one must be made about the place. He returned to the tiger, and was suddenly elated to behold the metal collar, half-hidden by the fur about his neck. He had quite forgotten this bauble, thus singularly employed, and, kneeling down to inspect it closely, not only found it was massive gold and set with costly jewels, but also discovered he must break or force a heavy link to take it from the creature. It was not until he had brought two sharp-edged rocks to his needs that the collar was finally freed. Its weight and worth then amazed him. The band was fully two inches in width, with the edges curved up and turned under, in a simple and hammer-marked finish. It was all hand-wrought, each blow that the smith had struck with his tool being faintly recorded in the metal. The jewels--three sapphires, three rubies, and one diamond--were simply and solidly set with bands that barely clasped their bases. The rubies only were cabochon cut, the other stones gleaming with facets. There was not a mark upon the collar's outer surface to show what was meant by its presence here in such extraordinary keeping. But Grenville presently bethought him to glance at the inner circumference. He was not in the least astonished, but he was a bit concerned, to discover a number of those mystic symbols, deeply graved in the gold, that had once been tattooed on the man sitting dead in the barque. Here were the three hills, bounded by the water, and one with the tree on its summit, while on either side the cartouch appeared, bounded by crude drawings of the tiger. That the brute had been liberated here upon the island as a sort of sacred guardian of the cave that was mentioned by the writing found secreted with the map, Grenville could not, or did not, doubt. There was nothing more to be found engraved on the gold. He finally slipped the heavy band about his own smooth, sun-tanned neck and went at the task of securing Elaine's promised robe. This toil was far more difficult than even his lack of proper appliances had led him to anticipate. Although he had sharpened his stub of a knife-blade to a very respectable cutting-edge, it was far too small for the business. His doggedness and application were the assets on which he had most to count, and without them here he must have failed. As it was, he remained so long away that Elaine, who was up, was alarmed. And, when at last he appeared below with the heavy, striped skin across his shoulder, she started abruptly, till she saw he was not another tiger. "I thought you might like to see the size of his hide," he said, as he brought it to the terrace, "before I take it down by the shore for tanning. I shall soak it a while in a mixture of brine and saltpeter. Both are highly preservative---and the best the island affords." "He was simply tremendous!" Elaine replied, when the skin had been spread on the rocks. "What have you got about your neck?" "Oh, this?" said Grenville, removing the golden collar. "This is a symbol of royalty that his Bengal highness wore--your property now, as a trophy of the hunt." She took it a little uncertainly as he held it forth in his hand. "Why--it's gold!" she said. "These jewels---- The tiger was wearing this?" "About his kingly neck." "But how--unless someone put it on?" "Undoubtedly someone did. He must have been a captive once, and probably escaped." It could serve no good end to acquaint her with his actual suspicions, which might be ill-founded, after all. "It's beautiful," she continued, gazing in admiration on the collar's simple massiveness. "But it's not for me, I'm sure." She held it out for him to take. But he bent above the skin. "Then pitch it away," he instructed, laconically. "Toss it into the sea." She colored, looking at him strangely. She could not throw away his property--anything of such great intrinsic value. She was baffled again, as he managed so frequently. Her hand and the golden circlet fell at her side. She could think of no appropriate speech of final rejection. A whimsical notion only arose to her groping mind. "Fancy me wearing this priceless band of splendor," she said, "and eating with a stick!" "It will just about fit around your waist," he conjectured, taking it from her as he rose. With easy strength he bent it in his hands, to make it more snugly conform to her slender and graceful little body. Why should he not bend it thus, she thought, who had wrenched it from a tiger? She felt how weak and inadequate was her own diminishing struggle. But to wear this band--a symbol, almost, of Grenville's ownership---- A hot recurrence of her former pride came surging to her bosom. "It's too heavy to wear," she told him, a trifle coldly. She once more accepted the girdle, however, despite herself, from his hand. "The tiger that wore it," she concluded, "met with a lot of trouble." "You've met with some yourself," he answered, candidly, and he shouldered the skin and started off for the estuary's mouth. Elaine burned suddenly scarlet, interpreting his speech in some manner of her own. Helplessly she carried the girdle to her cave, and left it there in a hollow of the rock. The incident concerned with the tiger was practically closed. A new, bright era of security and liberty thereupon commenced, particularly for Elaine. She could not take immediate advantage of the comfort thus vouchsafed in moving about the island, but at least her worry was lessened when Grenville was obliged to venture in the jungle. His return to the work so frequently interrupted was delayed but the briefest time. So eager did he constantly feel to accomplish his boat's completion that he had grudged every hour the tiger had cost him from his labors. With no thought of sparing his tireless strength, he promptly resumed the task of digging and fetching the clay. Elaine might have joined him in the clearing now had not some task she was eager to complete engrossed her attentions at the shelter. That day the remaining surface of his prostrate log was plastered by Grenville's eager hands. He likewise mixed sufficient clay to finish his furnace in the morning. The fire that was helping to hollow his log was once again ignited. Much of the old charred substance, left from previous operations, Grenville knocked away with an improvised tool of brass, in order to daub more clay inside the shell before the flames could continue removing the wood as he required. On the following day, while the walls in his smelter were drying, Sidney wove a two-piece door of wattle--framework of creepers, plastered with clay--to fit across the orifice at the bottom of his tree. With this he felt he could regulate the draught and protect himself while removing his crucibles of metal. The top door only would be tossed aside to accomplish this latter purpose. He likewise plastered the edges and sides of the hole that pierced his smelter. He knew the heat, when he came to melt the brass, would spread at once to all unprotected wood. After that he had still to contrive a clay-covered implement for lifting out his crucibles, and a tripod affair to be placed inside the furnace to support these crucibles upon. What with more work done upon the boat-to-be, and a goodly portion of the afternoon expended in killing and preparing another of the pheasants for their dinner, Grenville's hours sped swiftly away. A weary but elated craftsman he was that day-end when at length he returned for the final time to the terrace. He had been to the shore, where the tiger-hide was curing in a strong solution of brine and saltpeter, mixed in a hollow in the sand, and, having there turned it over, had washed himself to a fresh and ruddy color. Notwithstanding the unbecoming growth of beard upon his face, he appeared to Elaine the most commanding figure she had ever taken time to inspect. He looked every inch a master of the island, if not also of his fate and her own. But she was more than usually excited that evening, as she disappeared within her shelter. She presently emerged with such an air of uncertainty and diffidence about her as had never before appeared since their coming to the island. But she did not hesitate in the task she had set herself to perform. "I have finished my first bit of knitting," she said, "and there it is." To Grenville's thorough amazement, the clean, new article held in her hand, and shyly offered for his acceptance, was a cap she had made for his head. It was not unlike a golf-cap in shape, but the visor was considerably wider, to protect his eyes from the sun. She had woven this of finely divided creeper-core on a frame neatly made of the same. Its meshes had then been filled by fibers, snugly and neatly plaited back and forth to make it opaque to the light. The frame was firmly knitted to the cap. "Pretty good," said Grenville, busied with several arrows. "Thanks;" and, placing it carelessly on his head, continued with his employment. Elaine, who had conjured all her resolution to make of the presentation the merest commonplace affair, was wholly confounded in her thoughts by the man's unheard-of conduct, after all she had recently undergone before she could make him such a gift. She had feared some demonstration of the passion shown on the ship--or at least some disturbing outburst she had armed herself to quench. But this--such scant courtesy or gratitude as this--left her absolutely impotent and baffled. She was piqued, disappointed, chagrined. It was horrid of anyone, she was sure, to be so outrageously unfeeling. There was nothing, however, she could do, and nothing she could say. Standing there, mortified, almost angry, and conscious she was burning guiltily red with various emotions that he did not even notice, was such a footless and irritating proceeding, with the situation robbed of its point. She turned away, fairly ready to cry with vexation, and pretended to make herself busy with things already well prepared for their evening meal. But the new rebellion of her nature, partially begotten by the uncontrolled and uncontrollable impulses loosed in the jungle the previous night, when Grenville lay helplessly stunned, with his head loosely pillowed on her knee, was not to be longer contained. She presently fled from before the cavern, across, through the shadows of the terrace, to the hidden shelf where Grenville had angled for fish. There she suddenly sank to her knees on the rocks and covered her face with her hands. "I hate him!" she said, in a hot and passionate utterance, suggestive of a sob. "I hate him! I hate him! I hate every man that ever lived--and you, Gerald Fenton, as much as all the others!" She snatched off the ring from her finger. It was Fenton's ring, with a single stone that gleamed in the failing light. It seemed to her to represent the man far absent from her side. "It was you who brought it all about!" she continued, in her fiercely waging conflict, and, overwrought, she cast it down on the ledge as if it burned her palm. It bounded lightly where it struck and, clearing the shelf, fell swiftly downward to the water. A gasp and a moan escaped her lips together. Vividly, of a sudden, she remembered Grenville's prediction that she would throw it away in the sea. "Oh, Gerald, I didn't mean to!" she moaned. "I didn't! You've got to believe me!" She sank farther forward on the ledge, her face closely hidden in the curve of her loose brown arm. She wept and wept there, bitterly, in a mood of mixed emotions. "I hate him! I hate him!" she said, as before. "It's not my fault in the least!" And after a time, as Grenville did not come, she returned to the camp alone. CHAPTER XXI MOLTEN METAL AND HOPES The following day was calmer for Elaine, and vastly interesting, since Grenville's smelting operations were begun. She told herself that interest only laid its hold upon her nature, and, being a woman, she knew. The clay that lined his hollow tree was sufficiently dry at last for Grenville's fire. The other accessories, all more thinly coated, were likewise ready for his use. He began in the morning to heat his natural chimney against the actual needs of afternoon. The small fire kindled upon its hearth established at once the efficiency of the draught. Not without a certain boyish eagerness in the culmination of his labors, Sidney began the assemblage of his various paraphernalia an hour at least before noon. His molds and crucibles he carefully brought from the summit of the terrace, disposing them as conveniently as his crude conditions permitted. All his rusted scraps and useless bits of brass and bronze were divided into parcels, while salt, some powdered charcoal, and an over-abundant supply of saltpeter were provided to be used as flux, according as the smelting might demand. He could not be certain of which he should use till experiment should determine which, if any, rendered good results. The principal difficulty, he soon discovered, would be adding the fuel to his flames. His smelter-door was not well arranged for this essential business. He expected, however, to heap a considerable quantity of wood inside before the chimney should become too hot. Later he thought a lot of short material could be readily introduced, and against this need he gathered an impressive heap of branches, which he broke to a workable length. Elaine was with him when at last the work began. She was far more excited than Grenville seemed, since it appeared to her no less than a miracle that any man, in a place like this, should dare assume such a mastery over Jovian metals and flame. She had never before seen anything of smelting. This intimate acquaintance with its mysteries seemed to her a privilege, greatly enhanced by the fact that the lord of it all pretended she was actually helpful. She assisted when he bound the sections of his clay-made molds together. She handed him fuel when the furnace-door was opened and gushes of heat came voluminously forth. The fire, which for a time had loudly roared, was now more intense and quiet. The volumes of smoke, which the "chimney" had belched, had likewise finally ceased. Only a quiver of superheated air and a greenish bit of gas and fume now ascended to the sky. From time to time, Grenville opened the top of the door to peer within. He wrinkled his features, in the waves of heat, and held his hand before his face. At length he adjusted his "tongs" about a crucible and drew it entirely forth. It was white with heat, its surface sparkling with a hundred tiny stars that died on its glowing surface. "Just toss in some of that stuff there on the leaf," he quietly instructed Elaine. "It will soon be ready to pour." The "stuff" was flux, and Elaine obeyed directions like the stanch assistant that she was. She wondered what was coming next. It came very soon. She was certain no ruddier figure of Vulcan, employing mighty flame, had ever been presented than now when Grenville made ready for the climax of his work. He removed the door as he had not previously done, and set it aside from his path. He thrust in his tongs, while flame and heat came pouring out to paint him a deep and glowing color. Then, seemingly hotter than ever before, and smoking goldenly above its blinding incandescence, the first of the crucibles, itself fairly dripping, where some of the flux had trickled down its surface, was supported over to the molds, to be quickly and vigorously skimmed of its oxidized matter. But the molten brass, indescribably beautiful, with ruby and gold and silver gleams imbedded and breaking in its substance, was the wonder of it all. Elaine stood entranced, to see it flow and fill the hollows of the molds. The second was hastily drawn from the flame, and then the third and last. But not till all lay finally empty and smoking on the earth, their surfaces rapidly dulling, did Grenville pause to look at Elaine and smile. "Can't even tell what we've done," he said, "till the molds are cooled and opened." "Must you wait very long till you know?" "I couldn't wait long," Grenville answered. "I'm too much of a curious kid." As a matter of fact, brass poured in a mold begins to harden at once. In less than fifteen minutes, Grenville was gingerly untwisting the hot copper wire that bound each mold together. Soon after that the first of his tools, a heavy and serviceable chisel, lay uncovered to the air. It was still glowing hot, although no longer red. It was darker, less brassy in appearance than Elaine had expected to see, but it seemed to her a wonderful thing to be made of those useless bits of metal. The tool next in importance was much like a butcher's cleaver--an implement intended for cutting or hacking wood or branches, either to clear a path in the jungle or to rough out anything of timber. The edge of this casting was imperfect, where the metal had failed to flow. Both it and the chisel had a thin fringe of brass along those sections where the halves of the mold had come together, but this would be readily broken away and was quite to be expected. Smaller chisels, a blade that Sidney expected to notch along its edge to make a species of saw, and a number of smaller implements were contained in the other sets of molds. None of these was perfect, and one or two merely served to instruct the master-molder in the way to go to work another time. But the net results were highly satisfactory, and seemed to Elaine a veritable triumph. The poorness of their quality as tools with which to accomplish swift results developed the following day. Grenville had melted a part of his lead and cast the head of a hammer. With this and the largest of his chisels he attacked the log chosen for a boat. So long as his gouging was confined to the portions charred by the fire, the tool held well to the labor. Its edge soon went to pieces, however, when the solider substance was encountered. It was sharpened repeatedly. He early foresaw that, work as he might, the business of conjuring forth a boat from material so raw was certain to be slow, if not exhausting. Indeed, at this time a tedious period began. There were days and days of dull, stupid repetition ahead like the ones that were presently past. Fire after fire he maintained beneath the log, which must always be newly plastered with the clay. Hour after hour he chiseled off the black and dusty flakes that the flames would leave behind, since it hastened the work to present a new surface to the heat. It seemed as if the task could never have an end. But, if this was a season of dogged application to an uncongenial business, it was likewise the one long era of peace vouchsafed to the exiled pair. There was nothing to rouse a sense of alarm in any near portion of the jungle. And, if those fast succeeding days brought no welcome sign of a steamer approaching on the distant blue horizon, neither did their lengthening hours develop those craft upon the sea for which Grenville was constantly and apprehensively watching. They were happy days, as well as peaceful. Concerning the ring she had lost in the sea, Elaine could not force herself to worry. Grenville never, by any chance, gave her occasion for alarm. There were many full afternoon vacations from his work when the fire was left to hollow out his log that Sidney spent at her side. He wove her a hammock of the creeper withes and built a shady bower by the shore. He had sawed her a comb from the tortoiseshell, bent hairpins of the copper wire, and made her a comfortable couch. Her tiger-skin robe he had worked with his hands to a soft and pliant finish. The skin of a cheeta he had killed he used to supplement his rapidly vanishing shirt. Sewing was strongly, if not prettily, accomplished with such needles and thread as his ready ingenuity provided. They were busy days that were doomed, however, to pall. Elaine was assisting with a loom to weave a sail, while between times Grenville chipped out the stone for the bath he had promised on the ledge. He became a skillful marksman with his bow, and knew every animal trail the island afforded. In many of these his traps did deadly service. Their larder rarely lacked for meat, made tender by paw-paw leaves. Elaine caught many a silver fish that they roasted together in the sand. But her gaze more frequently roved afar, for the ship that did not come. The days were growing sultrier, and constantly more monotonous. The new moon had come and waxed to the full and was once more waning in the heavens. They were marvelous nights the old orb made upon the island, but always weird and exciting a sense, in Elaine at least, of loneliness and aloofness from the world. On their cliff above the murmurous tides, she and Grenville frequently sat for hours at a time without exchanging a word. Such times were fraught with strangely exciting moments; and subtle tinglings came unbidden to her nature, giving her pleasures wildly lawless and precious beyond expression. Yet she feared them also when they came, and refused to give them meaning. But to-night a new wistfulness burned in her eyes as she turned to her silent companion. "I wonder," she said, "if we couldn't put a fresher flag on our pole to-morrow." "Sure shot," said Sid, "the freshest flag that ever grew." She was silent again for several moments. Then she said: "What should we do if a year went by--two years, perhaps, or even more--and a ship should never come?" "Do?" said Grenville. "Sail away." "I know. But I mean, supposing we found no place to go--and had to come back every time." "H'm!" said Grenville, rubbing the corner of his jaw, "you probably also mean to suppose we were always unmolested." "Why, yes, of course. Who could come to molest us here?" "Molesters," he said, "if anyone. But perhaps they never would." He had given no answer to her question, which she hardly cared to repeat. It was one of the times, which frequently came, when she could not prevent herself from wondering if this strong, primal man she had once called a brute could have utterly forgotten the passionate declaration made on the steamship "Inca" the day before the wreck. She wondered also, had he meant it at the time? Or had one of his many inscrutable moods possessed him, barely for the moment? She had never dared recently confess to herself what feelings might instantly invade her tingling nature should she learn he had only pretended, perhaps on some wager with Gerald, as a test of her faithfulness and love. It was womanlike, merely, on her part, to desire to know his mind. No woman may long resent being loved by a strong and masterful man. And Elaine was delightfully typical of all her delightful sex. "Well," she presently said, "we've been here now much longer than we ever expected that day when we arrived." His gaze, which had been averted, now swung to a meeting with her own. She had never seemed lovelier, braver, more sweetly disposed than now. The moonlight deepened her luminous eyes till the man fairly held his breath. "Elaine," he said, finally, glancing once more towards the silvered sea, "what is your notion of love?" The shock of the word threw all her wits into confusion. "My notion?" she stammered, helplessly, feeling the hot flames leap like floods of his molten metal to her neck, her face, and her bosom. "I don't believe--I have--any notions." "Your convictions, then?" he amended. "Or, if you like, your principles?" "My--my principles of--of all that--are--just about like--everyone else's, I suppose," she managed to answer, fragmentarily, "--being honest--and true--and faithful--unto death." "To the one that you _really_ love?" "Why--certainly--of course." The heat in her face increased, so significant had she felt his words with that low even tone of emphasis. He stared so long at the sea after that she began to suspect he had not even heard her reply. After a time she was tempted to play, just a trifle, with the fire. She added, "Why did you ask?" "Wanted to know." Once more he fell dumb, and again she waited, afraid he would, and more afraid he would not, continue the delicate topic. Once again, also, she was tempted. "And what," she inquired, "is your--notion?" He did not turn. "Of love or crocodiles?" "Of--of love--was what you asked me." "I believe I did," he responded. "Oh, about the same as yours!" Elaine had received but scanty satisfaction. After another long silence she ventured to say: "We might have to be here a year--or even longer." He turned to her directly. "Do you like it here, Elaine?" She would not reply, and therefore demanded, "Do you?" "I'm a savage," he admitted. "This sort of thing appeals to something in my blood." "I know," she answered, understandingly, "--building up an empire with your naked hands, unaided--conquering metals and elements--wresting the island's dominion from the brutes. Naturally you love it!" He reddened. "I can't make an apple dumpling and make it right! This island's dominion? Great Cæsar's frying-pan--this is a regular picnic-ground, with everything on earth provided!" She smiled. "And things all made and ready, including tools and powder, not to mention a tiger-skin rug.... You refuse to admit you like it for itself?" "Like it or not," he answered, "we must get away--and home." "Home," she repeated, oddly. "Home.... I wonder if home will ever seem---- It certainly would be wonderful, a miracle, I think, to see a steamer really coming--and to go on board and have it take us back to--everything--somewhere home---- But we'd sometimes think of this--a little?" "Probably." To save his life, he could not banish thoughts of Fenton. "I'm sure we would," murmured Elaine. She gazed away, to the jungle's softened shadows. She wanted to cry out abruptly that she loved it to-night, with a love that could never die. She wanted the comfort of something, she hardly dared wonder what. After another long silence, she finally said, with eyes averted and excitement throbbing in her veins: "I know the name of this little place--do you?" "No," he said, wondering what she might have discovered. "What do you think it is called?" It seemed to Elaine her heart pounded out her reply. "The Isle of Shalimar." If Grenville knew the Indian name for Garden, he made no sign that she could read. He made no reply whatsoever, but gazed as before at the sea. He was turning at last when a low, but distinctly briefer, recurrence of the island's haunting wails arose to disturb the wondrous calm--as well as his peace of mind. There could be no doubt the tidal phenomenon was gradually but steadily failing. What might occur when it altogether ceased was more than the man could divine. He felt a vague dread of that approaching hour and of what it might develop. "It must be after midnight," he said, at last, "--time for night's ordinary dreams." Yet, when he was finally stretched on his bed, he did not lose himself in slumber. Instead he lay thinking of the island's haunting sounds and the cave somewhere underneath the headland. He had meant to attempt an inspection of this place, if only to gratify a natural curiosity. The thought occurred to him now that, in case of dire necessity, it might afford such a shelter as was not to be found on any other portion of the island. It was not a thing to be neglected. He made up his mind that the following day he would make an exploration. CHAPTER XXII A TOMB OF STONE The ladder that Grenville constructed in the morning was not entirely new. He had found upon testing the original contrivance, made for his séance with the tiger, that, although the creepers had become quite dry, they were neither weak nor brittle. He fortified the older section with additional material, however, to make absolutely certain it would not abruptly part and drop him into the sea. All morning he worked, while his smoldering fires continued to eat out the hollow for his boat, securing new length to the rungs already provided, since the distance down from the brink of the cliff was fully one hundred feet. To Elaine he explained that he thought perhaps a cave might exist in the rock. The wailing sounds, it was easy to argue, would indicate some such cavity, which he felt it important to examine. If she somewhat divined the further fact that he hoped to discover a possible retreat, should unforeseen dangers threaten, she made no revelation of her thought. It was not without considerable anxiety, however, that she finally discovered precisely what he meant to attempt. His ladder, she was certain, was far too frail for any such business as climbing down, above that boiling tide. One careless step, or a parting of the strands, and nothing on earth could save the man from death on the jutting rocks below. She had glanced at the waters under the cliff, and their crystal depths were not at all reassuring. The thorough precautions against a mishap that Grenville finally completed considerably lessened her fears, yet she had no wish to watch him descend when at length he slipped over the edge. She was gazing with fixed and wide-open eyes at the heap of rocks in which he had fastened the ladder. The matter to Grenville seemed simple enough. The brink overhung the wall itself, in consequence of which the ladder swung quite free, down the face of the scarp, till it touched at a jutting ledge below. It swayed to and fro and sagged a bit loosely at some of the rungs, but it could not be broken by his weight. He made no attempt at a rapid descent, neither did he pause to enjoy the scenery. When the ledge was reached he rested, made certain no sharp-edged stone could impinge upon and perhaps cut into his twisted creepers, and again proceeded downward. His course for a matter of two or three fathoms was rendered rather more difficult by the fact the ladder lay closely bent against the wall, instead of hanging free. The rock face was pitted and exceedingly rough, its indentations ill-arranged for footholds and far too treacherous for any such employment. Grenville was nearly at the lower lip of this projection before he attempted a look below to determine what he was approaching. He discovered then it was undercut again--and likewise that his ladder was considerably short. Its lower end dangled about with irregular gyrations as he shifted his weight from rung to rung. It was fully two yards above the water. There was nothing in sight on which to plant his feet, so far as he could discern from the point then occupied. He continued down the ledge. When he reached its base, his suspicions were immediately confirmed. It overhung a cavern, which was not, however, the cave. To the final rung but one of his ladder he descended, and there he rested to have a look about. He was hanging directly before a massive pot-hole in the cliff--a huge, roughly rounded sort of chamber, the roof of which was arched. On the left, it shared its pitted wall with a second and smaller chamber. On the right, its edge was jaggedly broken against a yawning hole. This hole was undoubtedly the cave-mouth described by the documents found in the hidden tube. From this point only, as Grenville could see, would its mouth be readily discovered. Thick curtains of greenery, draped from its neighboring walls of rock, would shield it from view from passing boats, unless they should nose to its portals. This, with a swirling and dangerous tide, no craft would be likely to attempt. The shrubbery, hanging so thickly from the ledge, afforded Grenville a puzzle. He knew it could not be a seaweed, since the tide never rose to such a level. He presently realized it was simply an air plant of unusually luxuriant growth. Its roots had found lodgment in a crevice, where nothing would be likely to disturb it in its possession. Concerning the possible contents of the cave, its extent, or immediate surroundings, there was nothing to be discovered from his ladder, twist as he might or crane his neck to stare in the cavern's mouth. He had practically determined to return to the top, shift his ladder along, and once more make the descent, when he realized his effort would be wasted. A thick, broken shelf of the pitted tufa jutted many feet out above the cave, and even beyond the growing weed. Should he hang his ladder directly before the opening, he would find himself, when he came to its end, swung helplessly over the water. He could see distinctly where the final base of the wall projected into the tideway. It would certainly be no less than ten feet removed from the nearest point he could possibly reach by this particular method. It occurred to his mind he could lengthen his strands, drop himself off the ladder-end, and swim to the edge of the cave. But, even as he turned to examine the physical features afforded to a swimmer, a huge dark form loafed like a shadow through the crystal tide, to rise beyond and cut the sparkling surface with a blackish dorsal fin. There was no mistaking Mr. Shark. Grenville nodded, grimly. "Thanks for the timely suggestion," he said, as the monster once more sank. He presently added, "It's a boat or no explorations." Somewhat disappointedly, he returned up the ladder to the top. "The cave is there," he told Elaine, who promptly sat down, in sheer relief, when she saw him finally safe, "but it has to be entered from the water." "Oh!" said Elaine. "But why does it have to be entered?" "Well," said Sidney, at a loss for a better argument, "it might be full of treasure;" and he smiled. Elaine was no less ready with her answer. "Treasure is certainly indispensable to us here. No wonder we've felt that something was strangely lacking." "There you are," he rejoined. "I think I can paddle the raft about the cliff, for the tide could never be better." She was certain that Grenville attached some unusual importance to an inspection of the cave. "Couldn't I help?" she asked him. "What was the fault of the ladder?" "Fully six feet too short. Perhaps you'd better watch for passing steamers. If we missed one--whom should we blame?" They had slowly returned to the shelter, where the table was attractively spread. "What a luncheon!" said Grenville, enthusiastically. "I'll eat in a rush and be back before you know I've gone." He certainly ate with lively promise. But, after the raft was launched on the tide, he lost all sense of time. He had left his shoes and stockings on the shore. He had brought a torch, lighted, which he lashed in an upright position on the raft. Wading and paddling, punting, pulling, and at times even pushing his craft along the beach, he warmed to his work in the briefest space, since the tide could hardly have been more favorable to his needs. The pole he had brought had a hook at the end, bound firmly in place with copper wire. This was an excellent provision, especially when he came to the cliff, where wading was out of the question. He was thus enabled to catch at a ledge, or any open crevice, and draw his unwieldy float along, while fending it off from various rocks on which it might otherwise have pounded. His work was hard and slow. The distance was not discouraging, however, and with some of the swirls to assist, here and there, he finally came to a broken sort of cape, from which he readily saw his dangling ladder. After that a hot bit of fighting was required to maintain his position near the wall. The tide was uneasy--a hungry, ugly swirl that alternately came and subsided. When he passed it at last his task was done, for the cave was a stone's toss away. It was not even then to be seen, and its presence in the cliff would scarcely have been suspected. But Grenville knew the luxuriant plant that grew across a portion of its entrance. When he presently moored his raft to a rock fairly under the shadow of the weed, the cave was just above him. Under his feet the ledge was rough and sloping. It was pitted so completely as to form a rude natural stairway to the opening under the overhanging shelf. This mouth to the cavern was hardly six feet wide and not more than four in height. Its access was comparatively easy. Grenville, with his torch in hand, was presently gazing within. Obliged to stoop, and beholding nothing but absolute darkness ahead of his light, he stumbled against a lumpy vein of rock--and nearly met with disaster. He barely halted at the edge of a pool of ebon water. After all his effort to gain the cave, it appeared to be filled with this inklike accumulation. The pool was absolutely still. Not a ripple disturbed its shining surface. How deep it was and how far it extended from the ledge that held it from flowing into the sea, could not be gauged by Grenville's torch, as he held it aloft to stare at the wall of velvet gloom. He sounded a note that rolled about and reverberated weirdly. But he could not determine from the echoes how far the waves had traveled. Casting his dull-red illumination to the left, and lower down, he proceeded a little along the ledge, till it merged in an upright wall. There was nothing at all to be seen in this direction save water and rock, that faded away into Stygian darkness beyond. He retraced his steps and explored the ledge on the right. This led him considerably further than the first had done before it was similarly ended. He was then aware the cavern was of no inconsiderable dimensions, at least with regard to its width. He raised his eyes towards the ceiling, where nothing was to be seen. At length he bethought him of another test--that of throwing lumps of rock against the walls. There were fragments in plenty scattered loosely at his feet. The first one he threw went straight out ahead--and presently thumped on something solid. He reckoned the distance some sixty feet away, but admitted it might have been eighty. Every missile he cast right, left, or at an angle promptly reported a wall; and some plumped back into water. The cave was not gigantic, but all its floor was apparently flooded. His hand, which he thrust in the water where he stood, groped blindly and found no bottom. He rolled up his sleeve and tried again, without more definite results. The water, however, was warm. "Good place for a swim, in any case," he told himself, aloud; and, planting his torch with a sudden determination that he would not retreat with information so utterly meager, he stripped off his clothing at once. He let himself into the ebon depths, with his torch held well above the water. He had rather expected to be able to wade, but he sank to his neck without sounding to the bottom. Swimming almost perpendicularly, employing one hand only, he presently lost all sight of the walls and was out in an unknown pool of blackness. Save for a slight sensation of its weirdness, the experience was decidedly pleasant. He tasted the water as he swam and found that it was fresh. He turned to look out at the opening, but could barely see light through the weeds. Some twenty or thirty feet from the ledge, his feet encountered a ridge. It was stone, and across it he waded to a greater depth beyond. Yet once again he was soon enabled to stand erect and walk along the bottom. The broken, uneven surface that he felt with his feet made his progress slow and careful. He had presently crossed the underground pond, up the sloping bank of which he was soon making rapid progress. He emerged on a dry ledge beyond. Even then the walls were not to be seen till he walked a rod straight onward. The briefest examination sufficed to establish the fact he had come to a sort of natural antechamber to the larger cavern he had crossed. Also, apparently, the entire place was as empty as a last year's bird's-nest. Vaguely disappointed, though he hardly knew why, the man surveyed the place anew, by the light that entered at the opening as well as by that of his torch. He saw at once that, could it be drained, the place would afford a retreat of amazing security for anyone needful of shelter. He was also certain he could drain it in a day by blasting through the ledge of rock that blocked the entrance from the sea and so retained the pool. With one more brief and cursory examination of the rocky structure about him, he was turning away when something foreign about a slab of stone, that seemed a fragment of the solid wall, attracted his attention. He laid his hand upon its top as if to pull it down. It came away so readily it all but fell on his feet. Behind it the crudest sort of masonry walled up a natural door. Ten minutes later, standing on the heap of blocks he had tumbled rapidly down in forming a gap through four feet at least of this bulkhead, Grenville thrust his torch within a nichelike chamber of the cavern. A low exclamation of astonishment burst from his lips at the vision thus suddenly encountered. The place was a tomb for dead kings' gold and precious stones that threw back the gleams from his torch! CHAPTER XXIII A DESPERATE CHANCE For fully a minute Grenville was motionless, there in the gap, surveying the treasure crypt. The more his eyes became accustomed to the yellowish light and inky shadows, the more extensive became his estimate of the wealth the cave contained. The symbols and trinkets of solid metal and glistening stones were arranged not only on rudely-hewn shelves about the cavern's walls, but likewise in several stone receptacles, like sarcophagi in miniature, cut from the tufa of the island. It was partially because of this feature of the hidden niche that Grenville concluded the property here had once belonged to either Indian or African native chiefs and that this was a mortuary house of guarded treasure. There was, however, further confirmation of his theory. This was a crude inscription on the wall above the shelves and caskets. It was simply that same cartouch he had found on the map or parchment--once part of a living being--with the figure of a mummy in the oval. On either side of this the beetle or scarab was repeated. The utter inutility of gold and gleaming jewels was momentarily forgotten as Grenville stared in from the wall. The island, its perils--everything save an underlying current of thought that wove about Elaine--had ceased for the moment to impress his newly dazzled senses. He withdrew his arm to plant his torch in the stones already removed. Then lustily heaving out stone after stone, like some naked god of the underworld, half revealed in the smoky glare, he began to demolish the barrier so carefully erected in the cave. He had torn down nearly half the bulk of this uncemented wall, filling the larger cavern weirdly full of the crashing and thudding noises, when one of the fragments, tossed unthinkingly behind him, bounded from another rock and struck down his torch and its light. Utter darkness instantly descended. He tried to grope his way quickly forward, thinking the torch might be recovered and blown to a flame again. But he stumbled, fell down upon his knees, and was bruised on the stones about his feet. When he finally found the torch with his hand, a rock lay squarely upon it; the last of its fire was gone. Thoroughly disgusted with his carelessness, he stood undecidedly above the unseen ruin he had wrought. To attempt further work of removing the wall by the faint diffusion of light that entered from the outside world, was out of the question. To enter the crypt before the aperture could be considerably enlarged was equally impossible. Moreover, the treasure was safe, as he presently admitted. As a matter of fact, he began to realize at last how futile had been his labor. He remembered, abruptly, where he was, the details of his helpless situation. Except as something to show Elaine, or to load her with as presents, the stuff in the cave was as worthless as so much dross. There was nothing to do but retreat as he had come. This he presently did, reluctantly turning from the half-uncovered cavern and wading into the pool. Without his torch, and swimming towards the light, he was now enabled, to some extent, to discern the limits of the cave. He could see a portion of the ceiling and a bit of the wall on his left. Both were featureless, to all appearances. The water's surface presented a more extensive aspect with the light thus spread before him, but its farther limits could not be descried, where its inkiness blended with the gloom. When he came at length to the ledge that formed a natural dam across the entrance, thereby impounding the water, he looked it over with greater care than when he had first trod upon it, to determine where would be the likeliest spot for a blast to break it down. There could be no debate upon this subject. Over against the upright wall, on the left-hand side looking out, the ledge not only narrowed down, where a pot-hole pitted it deeply, but a tiny crevice extended so nearly through the remaining substance that a trickle of water already oozed downward towards the sea. The perpendicular wall here also was broken, a number of fragments of exceptional size appearing so loose as to threaten toppling over. Grenville was leisurely in all this examination. He was either obliged to permit his body to dry in the air or dress while dripping wet. Yet at length he was once more clothed and ready to depart. He remained for a moment, taking a final survey of the place and planning the details of his blasting operations, then stooped and made his exit from the place. The brilliant light of outer day bewildered him momentarily. He stared below, however, as if he felt he might be blind. The raft was not where he had left it. Hastily scrambling down the incline of the ledge, he promptly arrived at its base. His view was limited, even then, to a segment of the open, purple sea. But the worst of his fears was confirmed. The raft had floated away. It was nowhere to be seen! The tide had run out with amazing swiftness. Its level was such that the ceaseless swells ran under his ledge, instead of up about it. The creeper-cord, which he had utilized to moor his craft to the bowlders, hung uselessly over the edge. It had parted at once when the ponderous raft had been caught in the swirl of an eddy. This eddy was running intermittently, as Grenville soon discovered. Disgust with himself for his carelessness, and a vague disquiet concerning his helpless situation, addressed his comprehension together. He was bounded by huge overhanging walls and a water abounding in sharks. If only by boat could the cavern be reached, then only by boat---- He thought of his ladder, dangling in air where he had left it, and believed for a second he could hook it in with his pole, still lying on the rocks. But no sooner had he climbed a little up the ledge, to a point from which the ladder could be seen, than he realized the folly of his hope. It was twenty feet off at the least, and fully eight above the water. The fact that the tide was continuing to fall, that the raft had doubtless departed the island forever, and that night might find him here, a helpless prisoner, was no great motive for alarm. But Grenville was not slow to realize that escape from his predicament would be no more readily accomplished on the morrow than it could to-day--that high tide and low tide were alike of no avail to return him to the terrace and Elaine. The thought of Elaine and the fears she must certainly experience, did he fail to return that night, aroused a new impatience in his blood. He could almost have made up his mind to slip overboard at once and take his chances of swimming about the base of the wall, despite its treacherous currents, had he not remembered the sharks. "It's the ladder--or night," he murmured, paraphrasing Wellington's utterance at Waterloo, somewhat grimly, and again he went down to the edge of the shelf of rock left dripping by the tide. "Elaine!" he called, with a lusty breath, yet without an accent of distress. "Elaine! ... Elaine! ... Are you there?" There was no response, save the swashing of the waves, which he knew were constantly retreating, leaving the ladder yet more high above the heaving surface. Once more he shouted as before, perhaps a trifle louder. And again he heard no reply. He began to fear the shelf of rock that projected out above him might send the sound waves too far outwards, towards the sea, for Elaine on the terrace to hear. He had no alternative but to shout repeatedly. This he did, at regular intervals, all the time striving to eliminate the slightest accent that would rouse her sense of fear. It seemed, however, as if no sort of cry could bring a response from the top. He moved to another position at last and tried with a longer, shriller tone. "Yes! Yes!" came a bright, clear call, at last. "Can you hear me now any better?" She had answered before, as he instantly knew, but her voice had been snatched afar from the cliff by a circular current of wind. "All right!" shouted Grenville, enormously relieved. "I'm down here below and I'd rather return by the ladder. Can you hear me quite distinctly?" "Oh, yes!" cried Elaine, whose fears were vast, though she would not betray them in her voice. "Do you want me to change it--or something?" "A trifle, yes--as I'll direct you." He paused for a moment to make his directions as clear and concise as possible. Then he shouted: "First move a few of the rocks to a point as near the edge as possible and about ten feet to the left of the present position.... Is that clear?" "Yes--very clear--quite clear---- And then?" "Then lift off the others and remove the ladder--carefully. Mind it's just a bit heavy." He paused, and she cried: "Yes! I hear you!" "Take the ladder at once to the rocks already placed and roll them on its end, to hold it down." "Then heap all the others upon it?" Her question came ringing down the cliff. "Yes--and as promptly---- But don't overtax your strength." There was no reply to this final instruction. That the quickest of action was highly essential, she had felt in the very air. She was hotly, valiantly tugging at the rocks before his last words had died upon the breeze. He presently saw the ladder-end jerk about spasmodically and ascend for perhaps a foot. Elaine had the weight of it in her hands--and her strength was equal to the task! He watched it, his heart wildly thrilling at the thought of her ready wit and courage--her certain, sturdy helpfulness in every trying crisis. With more wild gyrations about the ledge, the ladder-end now disappeared. It was gone for a moment only, to return at a point more directly above his head. Here it halted, moved about uncertainly, then lowered jerkily downward, to dangle at last with its last rung all but on the water, some eight or ten feet away. He knew that its upper end was lightly anchored and would soon be firmly held in place. He caught up his pole, with the hook at its end, to fish the ladder inward. But, fearing that any untimely tug might fetch it all doubling down the cliff, he instantly halted the maneuver and compelled himself to wait. Five minutes went by--five ages for slowness of movement. He was certain by then Elaine had made the end too secure to be readily dislodged. He stepped to the outermost edge of the shelf, with the pole horizontally extended. It was short by perhaps six inches. Strain as he would, he could not reach either one of the rungs or supports. A light puff of wind then bent it slightly inward, and he fished out wildly, in the hope the discrepancy thus amended might be wholly overcome. But his hook still prodded the empty air, while the zephyrs that played with the dangling thing seemed solely bent on his torture. The sweat oozed out on his temples, for the straining made him warm. A sense of disappointment amounting almost to despair attacked him for a moment. "I shall leap out and swim!" he told himself, at last. "I'll not remain here for the night!" He returned to the point from which Elaine had finally been heard. She did not immediately answer when he called as he had before. When her voice came down, he was certain her breath was broken. "I've--carried the last rock--over--and one or two--extra, besides." "Right ho!" responded Grenville, cheerfully. "You might stand away while I test it." He knew that a sudden throwing of his weight upon the ladder might suffice to fetch it down. He could not be sure that, with all her ready helpfulness and promptness, Elaine had so heaped the rocks above as to make the thing secure. "I can always get back here for the night," he murmured to himself, as he scanned the swirl below. "And when it calms down from that bally twist----" The whirlpool was even then subsiding, in its intermittent way. He quickly ascended the sloping ledge, the better to run and leap far outward. His pole he dropped upon the rocks as he hung there poised for his plunge. His eyes were keenly fixed on the tide. The waters became quiescent. Swiftly Grenville darted down the ledge, leaping well out, towards the end of the ladder. He was fairly in midair when his gaze was directed to a dark form loafing in the depths. Before he struck, by some quick flirt the huge form rose, coming inward, and a black fin cut through the waves. CHAPTER XXIV A DREADED VISITOR What it was that happened when he felt the waters swiftly rising all about him Grenville could never have told. He was almost certain his foot had come in contact with a heavy, pulpy surface, like a wet thing made of rubber, as he did his utmost to strike his assailant with his heel. He could only be certain that he seemed to plunge downward interminably, and that afterwards a horrible rush of waters, lashed to violence, was sounding wildly in his ears and confusing his staring eyes. Then he came to the top with a sickening conviction, that one of his legs would be gone almost before he could feel the incisions of the teeth where the shark was closing upon it. He lurched tremendously forward in the water, to close the short but vital gap between himself and the ladder. It seemed to him then a nightmare must be binding his limbs to inaction--that incredible time was elapsing while he still remained in the tide. As a matter of fact, he had moved with prodigious energy, his strokes and velocity through the water phenomenally swift. And, when he caught at the lowermost rung, he shot from the depths like some weirdly living projectile, doubled up in a knot by its speed. For his knees were drawn sharply upward, and hand over hand he scaled up his swaying support. But his ears heard the hiss where that terrible fin was cutting the waves beneath him. One quick glance he sped to the place comprehended the turning monster's belly, the open mouth, and even the hideous nose that shot beneath his very foot like the point of a speeding torpedo. To the round above he scrambled no less galvanically--only to feel a sudden giving of the ladder. A wild conviction of the structure's insecurity above--its giving way beneath the incautious strain he had unavoidably put upon it--scorched its way into his brain, while he still looked down upon the shark. But that one slip ended as abruptly as it had come. It was all in the rung he had clutched in desperate violence, and not in the ladder itself. Elaine's rock anchorage was firm! A swift and weakening reaction now ensued in all his being, as he clung there, dripping but safe. He leaned on the ladder-rung heavily, to regain his breath and strength. He was panting and all but exhausted for the moment. When at length he resumed the upward climb, the shark was no longer to be seen. He paused a bit longer on the shelving ledge above to gather his wits in proper order. "Sidney!" he heard. "Are you coming? Are you there?" "Well, rather!" he called out, cheerily. "Stopped like a kid to--examine the geological formation." He started upward promptly, whistling as he went. It was not, however, without a tremendous effort that he finally pulled himself over the brink, in all the weight of his soaking garments, and struggled to his feet. "Why--you're wet!" said Elaine, concealing her hands, which were cut and bruised from the heavy stones she had carried. "Did you have to swim to get the ladder?" He knew her hands were hurt, but maintained his usual manner. "I did. But the water is warm--in fact, it was very warm, indeed." "But couldn't you use the raft?" "I couldn't," he answered, candidly. "The raft got away while I was pothering about, and, unless it faithfully floats ashore, we may never see its honest face again." Elaine's expression brightened. "I'm perfectly delighted to hear it! Now you never can go there again!" Grenville was amused at the turn of her reflections. "But what about the treasure in the crypt?" "I don't believe there's any treasure in the crypt. There never is, except in wonderful stories. And, if there was, what good could it be to us?" Grenville met her magnetic gaze, now brightened by her challenge. It was not a time to excite new alarms in her heart by divulging the facts he had discovered. For she would be alarmed were she once informed of the wealth concealed beneath their feet. She would instantly understand the dangers to them both from the men who had hidden the treasure. "Well," he said, with an air of lightness he was very far from feeling, "I confess I'd rather have a good pot of steaming black coffee at this particular juncture than all the gold and jewels of the land." "Oh, please don't mention it!" said Elaine. "Haven't I tried every leaf I could find, to make you something to drink?" And a wistful pucker came to her brow that made her more than ever enchanting. "You've no idea," she added, "what horrid messes this island foliage can make." "Wouldn't wonder," said Grenville, calmly. But, having come to the shaded cave, he was grateful for a drink of cool, sweet water and glad to sit down for a rest. The subject of the cave was dropped, but his thoughts could not fade in Grenville's mind. They lay in substrata, beneath more homely plans for resuming his interrupted labors. But, beyond going down to dig some yams to roast with a pheasant killed the previous day, he returned to no toils that afternoon. He paused to examine the shell of his boat, which fire, plus his chisel, was finally evolving from the log, and, finding unusual quantities of blackly charred stuff to be gouged away in the morning, determined to be early at the task. This plan was one of the sort that "gang aglee." He fished, with Elaine, till nine o'clock the following day, to provide a needful change of their diet; then placed some fresh signals on their flagpole. At eleven, however, he was once more at his boat, with his fires freshly blazing. He was working gayly, aroused to a new enthusiasm over final results to be achieved by the excellent progress his former fires had made upon the log. A few more days of work like that--and he would have to be thinking of the launching. This was not a thought he had neglected. In a vague sort of way the problem of moving his boat to the water's edge had bothered him from the first. It would have to be run on rollers, he admitted. Doubtless a way would have to be cleared through some of the undergrowth. Reflecting that this was a task to be performed while the fires were doing their daily stint, he made a preliminary survey of the jungle to select the most practical route. The way across the grassy clearing was not only long, but in places inclined to be rough. Fortunately, in either direction the way was all down-grade. He had never yet forced a way to the shore through the jungle beyond his tree-trunk smelter. Thither he wended his way to note what this route might offer. Breaking the branches from before his path, and rather inclined to believe a trail might once have been forced through the thicket, he was penetrating deeper and deeper into the moist and thickly shaded region when he presently halted, almost certain he had heard someone calling his name. "Sidney! Sidney!" came the cry again, from Elaine up above him on the cliff. "Sidney! Where are you? A boat! I've seen a sail! There's someone coming at last!" He had smashed his way out while she was calling. "A sail!" she repeated, excitedly, the moment he appeared. "Oh, come!--please come at once!" She disappeared swiftly from the edge, running back, lest the sight be lost forever. Actively, Grenville went bounding across the clearing and up their narrow trail. He was panting and eager when Elaine ran forward to meet him, and clutched him by the arm. "I knew it would come!--I knew it!" she cried, as she hastened hotly forward at his side. "We must wave things as hard as we can!" She had guided him swiftly to the great lone tree that stood like the island's landmark, to be seen for many a mile. She pointed in triumph afar across the sea--and Grenville beheld a tiny sail, like the merest white notch in the sky. "Can they see us yet? Shall we wave?" said Elaine. "They couldn't go by and miss us now?" She was still clinging fast to Grenville's arm, and tears had sprung to her eyes. What long, long hours of torture, anxiety, and hope she had expended, uttering no complaint as the days went by, the man abruptly knew. Then something indescribably poignant shot boltlike through his heart. Elaine felt him harden, grow rigid, as his gaze narrowed down on the distant thing she had found in their purple sea. The note that broke from his lips at last made a shiver go down her spine. He suddenly turned, and his arm was wrenched from her clasp. He sped like a madman back to their mast and heaved all his weight against it. He threw back the rocks that held it in place in the crevice to which it had been fitted. Before she could follow, to question what he did, Elaine saw him drop the pole over. "Sidney!" she said, but the face that he turned wore a look that was new to her ken. "Pull up the ladder from the rocks!" he called. "Then go to the shelter and stay!" He himself ran to the cavern, to take up their largest jug of water. With this in his arms, he hastened down the trail to quench the flames beneath his boat. And when, with more water, hurried from the spring, he had drowned the last blue wisp of smoke, he brought the full jug to the cave again and tore down the improvised awning. "We had better hail death than that craft!" he said, "unless I am very much mistaken!" CHAPTER XXV AN IRREPARABLE LOSS Elaine was dumbly appalled for a moment by the words that Grenville had uttered. She finally found her voice. "But--why? I don't believe I understand. It isn't someone--some horrible men who hunt human heads for trophies?" Grenville was glad she knew what a head-hunter means. He loathed the necessity of making revolting explanations. He vainly wished he might spare her now--that his judgment might be in error. But the rakish angle of that sail, though so far away on the water, had left him no room to doubt that natives were manning the craft. "They may be friendly visitors, after all," he answered. "And then again they may not. It may be as wise for us to see them first, and determine our conduct later." "You do fear them, then? But how can we hide--if they land and come up on the hill?" "They shall never come up--if I can help it! If I only had a few more bombs!" He had gone to his cave and was dragging forth his little cannon. "I haven't even a hatful of slugs with which to charge this plaything!" Elaine had remained obediently at her shelter, in the door of which she stood. "Won't they see you?" she said, her voice already lowered, as if in fear its accents might be overheard where the distant boat was approaching. "Have you more old pieces of brass?" "Some," said Grenville, reluctant to use his remaining metal in such an extravagant manner. "I have nothing else that will answer, hang the luck! ... They can't see us yet, but we'll move about with caution.... I wish I had made more powder! I have only a few feet of fuse. I must get some additional creepers at once and let them dry out in the sun." He went down to the jungle immediately for a fresh supply of this highly essential growth, leaving Elaine at the shelter, a prey to dread that had utterly obliterated her bitter disappointment. She stooped, to steal forward on the rocks and look for the sail again. It was still so far on the sun-lit surface of the ocean that it seemed no nearer than before. She returned once more to the cave. Grenville came up, fairly laden with freshly severed creepers. "I've thought of a means for making bombs!" he told her, triumphantly. "Perhaps you can split these creepers and take out the cores while I go to fetch some bamboo poles." "Couldn't I fill them with powder?" Elaine inquired, anxiously. "I watched you before. I am sure I would make no great mistakes." He knew she was nervous, eager to be employed. "Sure shot you could," he answered, briskly, and, going to the cave employed as his "powder magazine," he brought her a jar of explosive. "Don't be afraid to put in all that the creeper tube will carry," he instructed. "And tie it with fibers here and there, to keep the edges together." With his heaviest tools he descended at once to the bamboo growth, where he was presently toiling hard. Elaine, no less industriously, was hotly assailing the creepers, held firmly down with heavy rocks, to make their manipulation easy. She had filled and bound a considerable length of this simply manufactured fuse when Grenville returned to the terrace. For his part, he bore across his shoulder three great long steins of green bamboo that were three inches through at the base. "I can cut this stuff at its divisions," he explained, "fill the smaller sections with powder, and fit the larger ones over them, like a shell within a shell. A natural growth plugs each one up at the end, and I'll also cap each end with a rock, and wrap the whole contraption about with creepers. Of course, the fuse will go in first. I wish the stuff were dry!" The spirit of battle was no less aroused in Elaine, whose mood was the equal of his own. "Couldn't we use the cannon first--keep them off with that while the fuses and things are drying?" "It's our only chance, if they raid us by the trail. They can scarcely arrive for two or three hours more. The tide will be against them---- If we keep out of sight, they may not detect our presence." "Anyway," added Elaine, sagely, "they needn't know how few we are in numbers." "Right ho!" he answered, cheerily. "The trail is steep and narrow. We can train the gun to rake its entire width. For the second shot, and any succeeding charges, we can load the piece with stones---- I'm in hopes our visitors may not land, but we'll keep our fire smoldering, making no smoke; and I'll fetch all the fruit and water we may need for a couple of days." Elaine looked up at him quickly. "A couple of days? We may have to fight two days?" Grenville smiled, suggestively. "Not if they come within range of the cannon or linger about a bomb. In time of peace prepare for the worst--and then a little extra." He moved out cautiously, as Elaine had done, to scan the distant sail. He could see that it was steadily approaching. With eager impatience he hastened below to lay in needful provisions. Luncheon was forgotten. When a large supply of fruits and water, with fuel sufficient for perhaps a week of flameless fire, had been stored in the coolness and protection of the caves, Grenville immediately set to work constructing the shells to fill with powder. This was a task involving much difficult cutting. For this employment his tools were not encouragingly suited. Of fuse, Elaine had finally produced as much as all his bombs would require, with lengths for the cannon as well. The gun was finally charged and primed, after Grenville had rebound it to its "carriage." It was lodged in the rocks, where it covered the trail, and stones were piled abundantly about it. A fuse was laid to the vent. From time to time both the exiles had crept towards the one lone tree on the wall, to observe the on-coming boat. By three o'clock of the afternoon the wind had practically failed, but the craft drifted slowly forward. It was plainly in sight by then--a fair-sized affair with a singular out-rigger and a queer, unmistakable sail. So far as Grenville could determine at the distance, there were three or four natives aboard. "If none of them ever go back to tell the tale," he announced, a bit grimly to Elaine, "we may be all right for quite a time." She understood at once. "You think, if they leave, they may return here later--with a larger force--if they find we are ready for a fight?" "If they do, we'll not be at home--provided the boat can be finished." Elaine was evidently thinking much--of the battle that might presently ensue, with all its unknown results. "They'd kill us if they could, I suppose, if only to cut---- They are not human beings, really--the kind we ought not to shoot?" Grenville could hardly repress a smile. "If they try to steal the gun, I think we'd be justified in firing. At any rate, I shall fire first and debate the question later." Elaine was growing nervous, now that all they could do was practically accomplished. "Oh, I wish it was over!" she declared. "Do you think they'll attack us soon after landing?" "They may not land this evening." Grenville was thinking of the tidal sounds that haunted the island's wall. These were still of considerable volume every day, and, according to his theory, frightened the ignorant natives away. He added, presently: "You see, they may be aware the tiger was living here before we disturbed his possession. In that event they might be cautious of landing after dark. They rarely take chances, I believe, by attacking in the night." "But suppose they arrive an hour or two before sunset?" "They might, if the breeze should freshen.... We can only wait and see." But this waiting was an irritating business, so slowly did the craft appear to move against the tide and so fraught with possibilities was its visit to the place. Sitting or stooping behind the rocks, Elaine and Grenville kept a constant watchfulness on the boat, now less than half a mile away. It was apparently becalmed. The day grew old and still it came no nearer. The sun at length departed from the scene, with the riddle still unsolved. It appeared to Grenville the day-end breath would have wafted the stranger to the shore. He thought perhaps it did approach considerably closer, but of this he was not at all certain. The brief, soft twilight soon began to wane. At Sidney's suggestion, their simple repast of island fruits was eaten. The fish they had captured in the morning was not cooked, in the absence of the customary fire. The calm that settled on the "Isle of Shalimar" was far from being reassuring. It seemed fraught with silent agencies of fate, moving noiselessly about the shadowed jungle. When the darkness came down, the mysterious craft was no longer to be seen. Grenville had fancied it drifting rapidly in when he last discerned its form. No lights were displayed upon its mast or deck to indicate its presence off the headland. Elaine was persuaded at last to retire, though she knew she should not sleep. Grenville remained on guard alone, pacing back and forth from the head of the trail to the lone tree reared above the cliff. His senses were strained to catch the slightest sound, but none came upward from the sea. From time to time he halted by their smoldering bit of coals to assure himself the last of the sparks had not been permitted to die. At length, far in the silent night, the tidal wailing began, its weirdness increased an hundredfold by the tension of the hours. It seemed to Grenville unusually loud, so acute had the darkness made his hearing. No sooner had the final note died out on the gently stirring air than answering cries, no less weird and shrill, arose from out upon the water. The visiting craft had drifted past the headland and was somewhere off on Grenville's right. The cries from its deck were like a response to some spirit of the island. They were rather more awed than exultant, Grenville felt, and he fancied some chanting, that came to him brokenly out of the heavy shades of night, was possibly a prayer. When he came before her shelter again, Elaine was standing in the door. She had heard the cries from the boat. "They haven't landed yet?" she said, in a whisper. "They won't land now till daybreak, and perhaps not then," he answered. "Go back--and go to sleep." "I'll try," said Elaine, and disappeared. For Grenville, however, there could be no sleep, though the darkness rendered up no further sound. Like the outer sentry of a picket-line, with the enemy close, and his whereabouts unknown, he glided silently from one dark edge of the terrace to another, as the hours wore on, alert for the slightest alarm. He finally sat by the head of the trail, convinced that the visitors would give him no trouble till morning, yet guarding the only way by which they could gain the summit of the hill. He was weary and doubtless he nodded, lulled by the softness of the breeze that came up at last, burdened with its ozone from the sea. And, despite the fact he was afterwards positive the nod was the briefest in the world, full daylight was spread to the ends of the world, and the sun was gilding the island's tufa walls, when at length he started to his feet. It seemed to him then some sound from below had played through the fabric of his dream. But nothing disturbed the usual calm, save the morning cry of distant parrots. Stooping, he moved through the scattered rocks, to survey the waters far and wide. There was nothing to be seen, in all that expanse, of the craft that had ridden near at midnight. All the round of the wall he made in this manner of caution. When he came at length above the blackened clearing, where for day after day he had toiled with fire and chisel, he gazed about the open space bewildered and incredulous. His half-finished boat was gone! CHAPTER XXVI AFTER TO-MORROW---- The truth of his loss was hardly to be credited as Grenville continued to stare below where the hollowed log had been. There was not a sign of a living thing in the clearing or near-by jungle. There had been no sounds of unusual movement in the thicket, he was sure, or otherwise he must have wakened. No voices had spoken, since his ears had all but ached to catch the slightest disturbance. On the blue of the sea, so tremendously expanded from this particular point of vantage, there was not a hint of a sail. But the fact remained his boat was gone, with all the work it represented, and all the hope their situation had centered upon it for them both. An utter sinking of the heart assailed him. His moment of sleep, he told himself, could have been no more treacherous had it been planned by a scheming enemy to complete their abandonment to some rapidly impending fate. And yet had he waked in the gray of the dawn, with his bombs and fuses still too damp for employment, and his cannon planted only to guard the trail, the boat could hardly have been saved. At most, his protest would merely have betrayed the fact he was camped there on the terrace. A new line of thought sprang into his brain, as one suggestion after another was swiftly deduced from his loss. The natives who had landed and carried off his precious craft must certainly have found the wall with which he had barred the trail. He could hardly doubt they knew of his presence on the hill. They might even now be lying in wait to get him the moment he appeared. His preconceived theory, that they dared not land while those tidal sounds still haunted this end of the island, received a shattering blow. Their craft was doubtless hidden now behind either one of the other lofty walls comprised by the neighboring hills. The thieves had cut off all possible hope of his escape with Elaine by means of his solid, if crude, canoe, and could finally starve them on the hill, if they had no courage for a battle. Yet how had they happened on his boat and why had they removed it? That they must have carried it bodily down to the shore, through the jungle, was absolutely certain. And this, he thought, argued a half-dozen men, though it might have been done by four. He remained there, stunned by this utterly defeating discovery, watching the thicket for the slightest sign that might betray the presence of the enemy and revolving the proposition over and over in his mind. When at last he admitted that the natives might have known the log was lying there, if they had not indeed prepared it with fire for some of their uses the previous year, he was more than verging on the facts. They had felled it solely for a boat--and much of their work he had completed. This line of reasoning did not, however, serve to quiet further questions. The visitors must certainly have wondered how it came about that the log was so nearly hollowed. The clay, still plastered upon it, must have suggested to their minds the work of a craftsman minus tools. That the workman must be present on the island would be more than suspected, since his boat was not even launched. They might suppose the tiger had captured and devoured him--always admitting they knew of the brute's former presence on the place. It seemed far more likely to Grenville they had found his tracks about the spring, his gate on the trail, and the signs of his recent fires and general activity about the region of his smelter, and would therefore conclude he was still encamped on the hill. He could fancy a half-dozen pairs of maliciously glittering eyes fastened even now upon the crest and edges of the terrace, all hidden by the thickets. Had the poisoned dart from a blowpipe come winging swiftly up from the shadows of the foliage, he should not have been surprised. But not a leaf below him was disturbed. Not a sound arose to warn his eager ears. With a sense of bitter rage and humiliation in all his system, he finally crept once more to the trail, and beyond it to the cliff's final shelving. From this extremity of the heights new aspects of the island were in view, as well as different expanses of the sea. His keen eyes searched the jungle and the clearings first, with no more results than before. It was not until he gazed afar, on the darkening silver of the waters, that his search was at all rewarded. Even then, for a moment he was not wholly convinced that what he saw was not a spearlike leaf of foliage projected beyond the clean-cut edge of the farthest of the island's tufa towers. But the angle of color detached itself and receded in far perspective. It was plainly the sail of the visiting craft, previously hidden from his sight by the hill at the island's end. It was already far on a northern course, where he should not have thought to find it. The freshening breeze was heeling it over gracefully; it would vanish in less than half an hour. He wondered instantly--had they towed away his boat? Or might they have left it moored in some inlet of the island, to be taken upon some future visit? Stifling an impulse to hasten down the trail, and aware that one, or even more, of the natives might have been left concealed upon the place, to ambush himself and Elaine, or anyone else suspected of being present on the rock, he remained behind his barrier of stones, no less cautious than before. The fact that the entire morning passed in apparent security, with never the flicker of a leaf below to advertise a lurking menace, could not suffice to render Grenville careless or overconfident. He had told Elaine of their loss--which worried her less than himself. Together they maintained an all-day vigilance, half expectant of the sailing-craft's return and keyed to the highest tension of expectancy at every stirring of a shrub below them in the jungle. Grenville finally armed himself with his bow and straightest arrow, to descend the trail, go quietly over to the spring, and then to the spot from which his boat had vanished. About the pool of crystal water there was not so much as a track of human boots or feet, other than his own. There were none to be seen about the foot of the trail, where there was ample dust in which they might have been recorded. Where his boat had lain, with its end on a rock, there were far fewer footprints in the ash and soil than Sidney could have believed possible, judging the visitors at only four in number and their task not particularly light. Apparently, however, they had landed down beyond the jungle, proceeded straight to the log, and, wasting no time in wondering how it chanced to be covered with clay or hollowed to a shell, had taken it up, to depart with it as swiftly and directly as possible. Even his tools still lay beside the hollow tree utilized for a smelter. The one explanation that addressed itself to his mind as being plausible was that the visitors, knowing of the log and having planned to secure it, perhaps in merely passing by the island, had come ashore so soon as the first faint gray of dawn broke the shadows of the jungle, when they had taken their prize and halted for nothing, not even a search for whatsoever tools they must have seen had been employed. Once more his original theory of their superstitious fright of the island's "haunt" seemed to Grenville to be confirmed. He felt the natives had sneaked ashore--not in fear of himself, since they could not have foreknown his presence on the hill, but in possible fear of some spirit of the place whose wailing filled them with dread. Barely less cautiously than heretofore, he followed the faintly imprinted trail of the boat's mysterious abductors, where it led across the clearing. He was certain now that a cleared path did exist where he had partially explored the previous morning. But branches and shrubbery had been freshly cut, as if to insure the silent passage of the log. The lane thus created through the thicket led directly down an easy slope to a broken bit of seawall at the bottom. This, at high tide, would be scarcely a foot above the water. Here the log had undoubtedly been rested. Both broken clay and a charcoal smudge recorded the unseen fact. The entire inlet was no more than twenty feet across. It was bounded on either side by pitted walls that permitted no access to the jungle. The last faint hope of again beholding his precious boat now vanished from Grenville's mind. It had not been moored, nor probably even towed, but doubtless loaded bodily on the visitor's deck, to be taken to parts unknown. But, if this heavy fact sunk home in his breast, the man was somewhat relieved, at least, concerning a probable native left behind. He felt practically certain that none of the crew of the native craft had stepped beyond his clearing. How much they might guess as to who had hollowed the heavy log was another matter altogether. He knew that their tale would be widely told--and felt that developments would follow. He went to Elaine, to whom he owed a report. "I think we're alone on the place," he said, and related all he had discovered. "We may as well re-light our fires," he added, in conclusion, "and eat the best our sunny possessions afford." Elaine could not so promptly recover from all she had undergone. She still sat staring at his face, a prey to confused emotions. "Suppose they had really been friendly, after all--and we let them go and leave us here like that?" "In that event they may return, since the boat will excite a bit of wonder." "You mean they will know, of course, that someone must be here who made it?" "It certainly tells that story rather plainly." She was thinking rapidly. "Then--if they shouldn't happen to be friendly, they would know it all just the same--and may still come back to--look us up?" Grenville nodded. "I shall certainly go to work with that chance in view." "Yes," she agreed, "we'll certainly do all we can. But another boat would take you weeks! After all your patient, tedious work--to have it stolen like that! Oh, I could cry, if I weren't so vexed and sorry!" Grenville smiled despite his sense of loss. "Perhaps I can rig some sort of a catamaran," he answered. "But for day and night sailing, such as we would doubtless have before us, the best of boats would be none too comfortable." "And we don't know where to sail." "Well--not precisely." "Then--what is the first thing to do?" "Cook and devour a hearty dinner." "But after that--to-morrow?" "Thank God for peace--and prepare for war, meanwhile praying it may not come." Elaine was grave, but her voice was clear and steady. "You think it will--that a fight will come? ... I'd much rather know the worst." "So would I!" said Grenville, cheerfully. "We can't. We can only get ready to acquit ourselves like--well, like gentlemen, and keep out an eye for a steamer.... Would you mind retreating to the cave I found, if dire necessity arose?" "I'll go wherever you tell me," she answered, with a smile that went to his heart. "But of course I can't help wishing that a steamer would really come." CHAPTER XXVII A FATEFUL EXPLOSION With feverish energy Grenville was at work, attempting to achieve a dozen ends at once. Nearly a week of high-pressure application appeared to have accomplished so little. Yet a hundred pounds at least of his liveliest powder had been mixed and stored away, either loosely or packed in the bamboo bombs, of which he had a dozen; much extra bamboo had been cut and brought to the terrace; a new lot of jugs had been molded of clay and were finally being fired in his former smelter; baskets were made and ready for fruits, should retreat to the cave be rendered expedient, and his first small raft, or catamaran, for gaining the exit to the cavern, was all but ready to launch. He had taken the bowsprit of the barque and three large stems from the bamboo growth as a basis for this craft. The bamboo stems were firmly lashed together, to act as a mate for the bowsprit. They were held away from the latter at a distance of about three feet by some of the few unrotted bits of board he had torn from the old vessel's cabin, plus more bamboo, split and employed for his platform. Two half-cylindrical sections of this useful plant he had lashed to eight-foot poles of considerable stiffness to complete a pair of oars. His rowlocks, saved from the smelting processes, he finally tested in their sockets, where a rigid bridge had been stoutly secured across his raftlike contrivance, and found them all he could desire. The seat he had planned to occupy in rowing he abandoned now as quite superfluous. He felt he must lose no time in draining the cave, for possible use in a siege. There was no other task that had been altogether neglected. The flagpole was once more standing on the terrace; abundant fuse was made, dried, coiled, and safely stored from damp or accident, and a mold was hardening in the fire for running lead slugs that would make the cannon effective. For this latter need he meant to sacrifice his hammer. It, with the lead he had saved before, would supply some six or seven pounds of this needful ammunition. Now, as he swiftly braided three slender creepers in a "painter" for his crudely fashioned catamaran, he glanced at the tide inquiringly, and likewise up at the sun. There was over an hour in which to get to the cave, lodge a bomb in the ledge, and blow out the dam that held back the water, but the tide was still running against him. With ten feet only of his mooring-line completed, he abandoned the braiding impatiently, secured one end to his raft at the estuary's entrance, and, wading in behind the clumsy structure, launched it with one impetuous heave across the sandbar to the sea. Boarding immediately with his oars, he rowed it far enough only to prove he could drive it against the tide, and then brought it back to the shore. "One bomb and a torch," he meditated, aloud. "I can hang the bomb across my shoulder to keep it out of the wet." The catamaran having been made thoroughly secure, he hastened away to the terrace. He missed Elaine. She was down at the "smelter," attending the fire that was roasting the new clay vessels. With a bomb and his lighted torch in hand--held well apart and not for a moment handled carelessly--he hailed Elaine from the edge of the thicket by the wall. "Just thought I'd drop around and drain out that water from the cave," he announced. "Everything's ready--and I've nothing else to do. When you hear the salute, you'll know it's a commonplace affair." "Oh!" said Elaine, who had her doubts concerning his various explosions. "I'll watch to see you from the cliff." "Well--er--I wouldn't stand just at the edge, you know--not till you know it's all over." "You're not going to blow down the hill?" "Hope not, I've taken a baby bomb, but I didn't wish to let it off till I'd told you what to expect. I'd keep away, in case of flying pieces." "I will," said Elaine. "But I'll go up now, and perhaps you can call to let me know how well you have succeeded." "I'll send you a wireless." Grenville hastened to his raft. "Please God she may never have to hear me fire another!" he thought, as he went, reflecting on things that might happen. He could not have known that only a mild beginning had been made on their programme as scheduled by the Fates. He was soon rowing eagerly and vigorously against the current of the tide, which would run with lessening velocity for perhaps another hour. When he came to the cave, he promptly discovered why the injunction to enter its mouth at high water only had been made a point in the mystic directions found with the map in the tube. The ledge whereon he had landed before was deeply undercut. During a tide no more than two or three feet lower than this that would serve him to-day, the place could scarcely be approached, and could never be entered at all. The swirl, which was rarely ever absent from the place, increased in violence steadily with the lowering levels of the water. It was not without some chance of catastrophe that he presently landed on the shelf. He lost little time in securing his painter to the rocks, the line so adjusted he could readily slip it from the crevice should a hasty retreat seem wise. The task of blasting out the ledge was not a simple matter. To lodge the bomb where its energy would be directed almost wholly against the dam, or rock, and yet protect it from the trickling stream that could readily render it useless, involved an extra toil of piling rocks, on which he had not reckoned. Fortunately, much of the thickest wall was opposed to the pot-hole in the dam, while one or two extra-heavy fragments from the cliff were so lightly poised he could drop them in the breach. Despite these natural advantages, however, he labored hotly for fully half an hour before he could even lay his fuse. Meantime, his torch was blazing smokily, against his final need of igniting the match and later exploring for results. At length he looped the fuse along a ragged line of broken honeycomb, where pits had been eaten in the tufa, and trailed it well down to the brink of the ledge, with its end propped high between two bowlders. With one last look at all his careful arrangements, he slipped off his raft-line, caught up his torch, and was stepping down to board his float when a sharp piece of rock broke away beneath his foot and dropped him forward on his hand. The torch was flung against the fuse, where it lay along the slope. He heard it hiss, where the powder had caught, and aware that, by three or four feet, it was shorter now than he had ever intended to light it, he lurched full-length upon his raft and fumbled to clutch up the oars. But the swirl was on, and the catamaran seemed possessed to bump against the ledge. In a final desperate outburst of strength, he sent the thing shooting outward. Its bow would have turned in the whirlpool then, but he drove it clear of the point. Like a madman he pulled at the clumsy oars, to reach the protection where the wall all but folded the basin from the sea. His raft was around it--half of the raft--and another good foot would have covered himself, when the blast abruptly boomed. Even out of the tail of his eye he saw the dull-red flare behind a blot that represented ragged rock in motion. A fragment no larger than a man's two fists came as straight as a cannon projectile and struck the pitted wall beside his head. He had ducked instinctively forward, which doubtless saved his life. But dozens of smaller and barely less violent fragments were broken away from the edge of the wall by the piece with the meteoric speed. One of these struck him above the ear--and down he went, face forward, on the platform, to hang with arms and shoulders loosely supported on the bridge that was used for the sockets of his rowlocks. A rain of loose pieces hissed about in the sea. The cave belched smoke like a suddenly active volcano. The tide took the raft, with its motionless burden, and floated it back whence the man had come, but not so close in the shore. Then up on the cliff, when the shock and hail had subsided from all the air about her, Elaine came inquiringly over to the brink, to receive some word that all was well. The smoke still rose from down below and obscured the face of the waters. There was nothing Elaine could discover. She waited a time that seemed very long, in her usual determination not to seem unduly alarmed or importunate concerning Sidney's safety. But at last she called his name. There was no response. Her uneasiness increased. She called again, and moved along the brink, staring eagerly down at the sea. Then at last a sound like a stifled moan escaped her whitened lips. She had seen that prostrate, helpless figure drifting down by the shore on his raft. CHAPTER XXVIII WHAT THE BLAST DISCOVERED Grenville revived, with his characteristic pertinacity. An impulse to save himself was still alive in his brain. Actuated by its survival, he struggled galvanically to rise. "Oh, please!" said a voice, that sounded remarkably familiar. "Please try to keep quiet for a little!" Yet he had to sit up, with one hand to support him, if nothing more. He was still on the raft, and there was Elaine, on her knees, pulling hard at his oars to drive the float ashore. She was dripping wet from head to foot. For a moment Grenville regarded her blankly, while the situation cleared in his brain. "What ho, skipper!" he said, a bit faintly. "You didn't swim out to this contraption?" "You are bleeding," she answered, tugging no less stoutly at the oars. "I thought you might be dead. The tide was floating you away--and I don't see why---- Won't you please sit still and behave?" Grenville had felt of his head, then arisen to take the sweeps from her hands, though the catamaran was about to ground on the beach. "You did swim!" he said. "I should have warned you of the sh---- I'm an idiot!--trying to blow my head off!" He knelt on the edge of the platform and began to bathe his scalp. "I hate that cave!" Elaine declared, with emphasis. "And I hate those awful bombs! I sha'n't have any clothing left, if you go on killing yourself like this every day!" She was tearing another bandage from her petticoat and felt obliged to scold. Grenville was not at all certain it would not be decidedly pleasant to be wounded constantly. It was perilously joyous to be scolded and bandaged by Elaine. He certainly submitted most meekly as she now tied up his head. He was not deeply cut, and felt considerably aggrieved that the blow had rendered him unconscious. "You'll find the skull isn't dented," he observed, "unless it's from the inside out." "There's a great big swelling," said Elaine. "And suppose you had been killed?" Grenville made no immediate reply. He was gazing abstractedly out across the water. His inner vision conjured up the picture of a brave, unselfish little comrade, swimming fearlessly out to board a raft whereon a helpless figure was lying--a pale-faced girl who would doubtless have had no hesitation had she known of all the sharks in the world. He could see her scramble on the float to ease him where he lay. And then her hot tussle with the clumsy oars, as she knelt on the wave-slopped platform, to urge it and him to the shore! "I'm a thoughtless brute," he told her, finally. "But I felt the work was important." "It is important! I'm sure of that," she answered, at once all contrition. "But perhaps next time--you might take me along---- If anything should kill us both--why, that would be simple and easy." He understood her thoroughly. "Quite an idea," he answered, briefly. "I was sure you understood the situation---- To-morrow I'll go and see what the blast accomplished. I shall have no more explosions, however--so I may not need a chaperon." She was slightly hurt. His offhand speeches were not always absolutely welcome, despite her former attitude and declarations. After all, it was God, she told herself, who had brought this partnership into being. It was He who had cast her into exile with the bravest man she had ever known. "You mean," she said, "you do not want me along." "It's the tide that's ungallant," he said. "It objects to anyone's landing on the ledge." "But you said I might be obliged to hide there later." "I did, and till then--let's enjoy the sunshine--while it lasts." Elaine said no more. The hint of inimical things to come sufficed once more to carry her thoughts away from all personal emotions. They returned in silence to the terrace, Grenville first having urged his catamaran within the estuary, to secure it with the line. The commonplace duties of their daily existence were promptly resumed, and the cave as a topic was forgotten. The following day, while he waited for the tide to rise to its highest level, Grenville completed the labor at the furnace, where additional vessels for water were being permitted to cool. The importance of being enabled to store an unusual quantity of water, should the need arise for such a storage, had early been presented to his mind. He was therefore particularly gratified to find this present firing of jugs considerably more successful than the first. Elaine was engaged in weaving two nets, in which these clay vessels could be carried. With a yoke for Grenville's shoulders, or even for her own, a pair of the jugs could thus be fetched at once and the labor thereby materially hastened, should a moment arrive in which such haste would be wise. It was ever disturbing to her mind to reflect on this possible need. The thought was never wholly absent from her as she watched the horizon, far and near, for the steamer that did not come. Not even in her happiest moments--and many were happy, she confessed, despite all the hardships of their daily life, as they two toiled together, an exiled pair alone in this tropical garden--not even in these was that sinister, underlying _motif_ too indistinct to be acknowledged. It hung like a thing in vague suspense above their every occupation, throughout the day and night. A tremor more tangible played through her breast as Elaine watched Grenville take a torch as before and depart for the third of his visits to the cave. Without consulting the lord and master of the island, she moved her work from the shelter of her "house" to the cliff-edge, from which she could watch him a time before he should come to the cavern itself and so be lost to sight. She was thus enabled, unobserved, to inspect him, to her heart's content, as Grenville came rowing his raft along the tide, far down below her rocky aerie. The man was absorbed in the task thus set to be accomplished. He did not look up, as Elaine thought he might, as he skimmed along under the wall. When he came to the cave he was somewhat surprised at the wreckage his blast had accomplished. Not only was the former ledge completely shattered, but much had fallen below in the sea, while the wall to the right, where the bomb had expended its energy, was agape with new-formed fissures. Chiefly concerned with the dam of rock, Grenville secured his raft with boyish impatience and carried his torch ashore. A moment afterwards he walked through the breach in the erstwhile solid ledge, and could readily imagine the roar with which the water, formerly behind the barrier, had tumbled torrentially into the swirling tide. There was still a tiny trickle flowing down the channel made by the bomb. The basin formed by the bottom of the cavern was still exceedingly damp, and here and there it retained a shallow pool of water too low for the gateway to drain. He walked about freely, pausing here and there to hold his torch aloft and measure the cave's dimensions by means of the light from both the open entrance and his blazing, yellow flame. He was struck, in gazing at the wall he had broken near the cavern's mouth, with the size of one of the fissures there, where the blast had wrought its havoc. So black and significant appeared this new-formed aperture that, although a certain eagerness to proceed forthwith to the treasure niche was upon him, he returned at once to investigate the hole. What he found upon his first superficial examination was merely a crevice, half as wide as his body, where a plinth of rock had been split from the mass and dropped towards the breach in the dam. Into this crevice he thrust his torch, and was instantly interested to note that its flame blew decidedly from him, in a draught of air that was flowing unmistakably upward. Moreover, on lifting himself sufficiently high to look about in the dimly lighted space, he became convinced that either a second chamber or a passage like a hall existed just back of the principal cavern, from which it was partitioned by the wall. He planted his torch between some loosened fragments and shook at the piece that blocked this auxiliary cave. He thought he could topple the slab out forwards on the ledge. But, when he rocked it with his customary vigor, it fell abruptly backwards and disappeared in the gloom. The hole he had thus created was quite large enough to admit him, squeezing in sideways. He promptly entered with his torch, finding the foothold rough and insecure. The chamber itself was small and low. He could readily touch the ceiling. Ahead it apparently ended in a wall, with a gaping crack. On moving there, however, he found, to his surprise, an angular turn, still wide enough to admit of easy passage. The way under foot was slightly upward. It was pitted rock, but surprisingly free from broken fragments. Persuaded at once that no other man had ever discovered this channel-like chamber in the tufa, and that therefore no treasure would be found concealed in its depths, Grenville continued onward with unabated interest, curious to see how far the passage might extend. It narrowed again, and pierced decidedly upward through the bulk of the huge rock mass. Obliged at last to stoop too low for comfort, Grenville began to wonder if the thing would never end. It appeared to be exceptionally straight for a natural tunnel in volcanic rock, but Sidney began to realize its upward incline had rapidly increased. When he presently found himself enabled to stand once more erect, he paused to cast a light on the walls to confirm a new thought in his mind. He had finally remembered a feature long before noted on top of the terrace itself--the long straight crack through the massive tower of tufa and the "slip" that had once formed a shelf. Not without a certain sort of excited hope did he now discover unmistakable signs that some convulsion of the island had at one time actually parted the right-hand mass of rock from the larger portion on the left and permitted the former to drop. If this channel could only continue---- He went upward again, more swiftly, wondering thus belatedly how far he might have come and regretting he had not thought to pace the distance. Through a place ahead he was barely able to force his supple body. Then came another passageway that was not only narrow but low. Fragments of stone were likewise under foot, and the passage formed another angle. Beyond this turn he found himself confronted by more broken stone and a difficult ascent. But, toiling up there eagerly, he presently raised his eyes and beheld a bright white line, as narrow as a streak of lightning. It was simply a crack through a shattered bit of wall that closed up the end of the passage. It was daylight--sky--that he saw thus slenderly defined, and the man could have shouted in joy! He could not, however, escape to the outside world when he presently came to the wall. For all the fragments he loosened and threw back behind him, he could not open the exit, or even determine where it was. Only work outside could accomplish this end, and this he was wild to begin. About to turn back and hasten to the terrace, he realized instantly how utterly impossible might be the task of finding the place from without. But Elaine was doubtless on the terrace. If only his voice could be carried to her ears, she could mark the spot at once. But, although he called with all his lusty might, there was no response from the camp where Elaine was doubtless working. His torch was burning low, with the draught fanning constantly past him through the channel. It occurred to his mind to go back to Elaine and instruct her how she could assist him. He also thought to place his torch against the crack and permit its smoke to filter through and perhaps thereby blacken the fissure. Until he felt he must save what remained, to illumine his way downward, he burned the torch close to the rocks. And thus, when he came to the larger cave again, he was once more obliged to depart with not even a sight of the treasure. CHAPTER XXIX AN INTERRUPTED DIVERSION Not only had Grenville to a small extent succeeded in smudging the outside terminal of the passage discovered through the rock, but also Elaine had discovered the smoke so strangely ascending in the air. She had been thoroughly mystified by the singular sight, but had crept about the place inquiringly, expecting perhaps a volcano to begin some destructive demonstration. She had likewise fancied that rumbling sounds proceeded from somewhere in the "mountain." The entire phenomenon had finally ceased, however, greatly to her relief. On a narrow ledge, some four feet down from the terrace-level, and directly beneath the extensive crack that had once been formed in the massive upheaval of tufa, the broken fragments that blocked the subterranean hallway were wedged to their places in the wall. The place was sunk in a shallow niche that was screened by the trees of the jungle. This ledge Grenville not only promptly rendered accessible, but, after the opening had once been cleared, he fashioned a door of the lightest construction, that still resembled solid rock, with which to conceal it again. His door was of wattle, plastered with clay, which he then thrust full of tufa fragments. These, when the substance presently hardened, were found to be substantially cemented to the framework. The clay itself dried yellowish gray and could hardly be distinguished from the rock. He was thus enabled to plaster over all the chinks and other ragged openings which the door could not completely cover. When the job was done, not the faintest suspicion of anything unusual about the niche could the keenest eye have discovered. Grenville was none the less glad, however, that the tallest foliage of the near-by growth still further concealed the spot. He was toiling no less feverishly than before, thankful each day that the tidal wailing still continued and anxiously watching the round of the purple horizon for the cut of a rakish sail. Despite the fact that several days had passed since the passage was discovered, he had made no effort to return to the treasure crypt below. The communicating gallery was too important to be neglected. He had spent long hours in its upper reaches, clearing the rock from underfoot, to make its use entirely practical for Elaine and himself in all conditions, either with or without some needed burden. He had managed to widen the narrowest squeeze by chipping the rock with his chisel. He had carefully rearranged the broken fragments down where the corridor entered, or branched from, the cavern, and there provided a second of his wattle doors, considerably heavier than the first and more artfully studded with stone. This he had made to be adjusted from without or within the passage it concealed. From within it could also be barred in place with a heavy billet of the toughest wood his brazen tools would shape. This late afternoon, when the last of his jugs had been taken down and concealed by the spring, all ready for filling and carrying back the moment occasion should arise, Grenville felt that, save for a meat supply, he had made nearly every possible provision against attack and siege. The day was practically spent. He glanced at the sun. Undecided between an hour of hunting with his bow and a quick excursion down to the crypt of treasure, he remembered certain ornaments Elaine might wear and decided to go for the gold and gleaming jewels. They had meat for dinner, already being roasted in a sandpit with several newly gathered yams. Elaine, with a basket of tempting fruits, returned to the terrace from the thicket before he was ready for his trip. The fact that he bore a torch and basket aroused no query in her mind, so frequently had he made his underground excursions. He left the door at the gallery entrance open and made an easy descent. Glad to be independent of both the tide and his raft, he paused when he came to the main cave's ragged opening, for a moment thoroughly startled. The weird tidal wail had just commenced, so close at hand it echoed all through the place. It had never before occurred while he was actually in the cavern. Immediately rendered curious to see whence and how it was produced, he hastened down the outside ledge, completely baffled by the intermingled reverberations. He had barely concentrated his attention on a certain hole in the rock, below the tidal level, when the last uncanny moan seemed choked to a horrible gurgle which could not be renewed. The thing had never before been so brief or so abruptly ended. Its brevity jarred upon him no less unpleasantly than its prolongation had done when he and Elaine first arrived upon the island. As if the occurrence sounded a warning not to be mistaken, he proceeded at once within the cave. His mind was filled with thoughts of native visitors, who might only be waiting for this natural phenomenon to cease before they came swarming across the sea, perhaps to search and loot this very cavern. He reflected they might have searched it before, and had either been baffled by the water it formerly contained or had missed the niche his accidental interest had discovered. Though he thought that less than half the wall he had previously assaulted could now remain in the arch of the treasure cavern, yet fully a half-hour's labor was essential before he could worm his way inside where the gold and the stones dully glittered. He cleared out a few more stones to admit his carrying basket. A thrill went through him as he laid his hands upon the priceless treasures disposed in the tomblike place. Notwithstanding the fact the cave had been scaled, almost hermetically, a coating of thin, impalpable dust veiled everything he touched. The things had undoubtedly been here years on years, till perhaps tradition only still affirmed their existence, while old fanatics might, for generations, have persisted in tattooing that "map" on some victim's breast for the cavern's living concealment and the faithful preservation of its contents. The gold was all wrought in ornaments--like anklets, bracelets, amulets, and girdles. It had all been crudely pounded into shape from virgin metal. There were pieces of odd, unfamiliar shape, the uses for which could hardly be conjectured. It was all of it heavy and massive, many pieces crudely resembling cumbrous seals with mystic devices stamped on either side. Of the stones--comprising principally diamonds, rubies, and sapphires--many were still uncut, while others, by the handful, were crudely mounted in hammered gold to form girdle after girdle. A crown, exhibiting nothing of the jeweler's modern or even ancient craft, was none the less of extraordinary intrinsic value for the heft of gold that formed its band and the huge stones thrust rudely through its substance. Despite his impatience to collect the lot in his basket and depart the place, Grenville remained there inactively, absorbed in a study of this piece or that, to identify, if possible, the curious workmanship. That much, if not all, the gold work argued craftsmen of the African wilds he felt convinced. But the stones could have come from India only, he was sure, either through tribute or plundering, and the latter was by far the more likely method. He had heard from one of his oldest friends, who was likewise the best informed of all his military acquaintances, that the West Coast Africans still conceal vast treasures of kings or chiefs deceased, such buried wealth to be utilized by former possessors in some life beyond the grave. That this hoard, by some strange and unusual chance, had resulted from that barbaric practice he felt there could be no doubt. The fact it was hundreds of miles from Africa argued nothing against the theory, since either by imitation or as a result of far excursions over sea the present collection could have landed here in this remarkably hidden and "spirit"-guarded cave, where even the hardiest, cleverest seeker of fortune would never be likely to search. He was still engaged, like some merely scientific archeologist, in examining piece after piece of the metal, or one after another of the stones, which were cut as never he had seen them before, when he fancied some weird, faint echo called his name. With pounds of the trinkets in his hands, he returned to the broken heap of stones he had lately overthrown. Out of the ringing silence of the larger cave came a distant wisp of sound---- He knew that Elaine was calling from somewhere in the passage. It was only the work of a moment to catch up his basket and place in its hold the small stone sarcophagi of jewels. Carelessly then, on top of these, he swept in the ornaments of gold. They fell, dully ringing, from the shelves, where perhaps they had lain for above a century--a heterogeneous collection which he was sorry to disturb till the various positions in which they had been disposed could be noted and remembered. He was certain no less than a hundredweight of the treasure taxed his strength when he presently lifted his burden from the place and bore it across the larger chamber. Elaine was calling again. Her voice was clearer in the passage. Grenville came there, panting from his effort, with his dusty and useless riches. He answered at once on entering the gallery, where he paused to close and secure his concealing door. "Please come!" was the cry, in response to his shout, like an unreal voice from the blackness of a tomb. "They're here! They're close to the island!" With a short but inarticulate ejaculation, Grenville once more took up his basket, blundered forward with it a few feet only, and set it down against the wall. Why he had paused to bother with it, for a moment he did not understand. With his torch flaring back, in his greater speed, he plunged along and up the passage. Around the first of the sharper angles he came upon Elaine. She had brought no torch, in her hurry to sound the alarm, but had groped her way downward through the Stygian blackness of the gallery, calling time after time as the gloom rendered up no reply. Her eyes were dilated wildly, from her efforts to see in the dark. Her face seemed intensely white against the impenetrable ebon. "Oh, I thought you'd never come!" she said, as Sidney approached with his light. "They were almost up to the island before I dreamed such a thing could be! The tree must have hidden the sail!" Grenville placed the torch in her hand and urged her upward before him. They presently emerged on the ledge. He had no more than crept to the terrace-edge and studied the craft below on the sea than he came once more to Elaine. "No use in striking our flag," he said. "They've seen it. We'll fly it till the end." CHAPTER XXX REVEALING AN INTENT The native ship, that had sailed unobserved within almost hailing distance of the headland, was not the one that had come to the island before. It was larger. Six men at least comprised its crew, a villainous-looking collection. Grenville had seen them close at hand, as they passed by the entrance to the cave. That they contemplated an immediate landing seemed probable, making as they were towards the crescent indentation along by the estuary's mouth. Sidney had lost little time in vain regrets for the hour spent uselessly below. He had gone at once to the gallery and hidden its entrance with the door. He had caught up Elaine's well-finished nets and the pole for a yoke she had been working to complete when the visitors' sail was discovered and, only pausing to make certain he could not be seen, went at once to the spring for extra jugs of water. The sun was already dipping redly in its bath when he brought his first burden to the terrace. He paused to observe the maneuvers of the ship, now coming about in the sunset breeze, just off the tiny inlet where his catamaran was moored. The queer sharp sail was reefed while he was watching. He saw three men heave overboard an anchor, which promptly sounded the shallow depths where the strange craft presently swung. Considerably to Elaine's discomfort of mind, he hastened once more down the trail. She was certain the Dyaks would go to the spring before Sidney could got away. However, he brought another pair of jugs, an armful of fuel, and a basket of fruit with the greatest possible expedition. The boatmen made no movement to come ashore as long as the twilight revealed them. The highest notes of their voices floated indistinctly to the terrace, towards which the men were frequently seen to gesture, but even these sounds were finally lost as darkness enwrapped the island. Despite the fact that four of his water-jugs still remained in the thicket near the spring, Grenville made no more trips for water that evening, since Elaine was obviously distressed by the thought of the risk he might incur. He was awake all night, maintaining the life of their smoldering fire, and alert for any signs or sounds of movement in the clearing by the trail. In one of the darkest hours before the dawn he heard the familiar wails and moans of the headland cave rise briefly on the wind. From the anchored ship the cry was returned, as on the former occasion. After that a droning chant came fitfully up from the darkness of the waters, to die at last in the silence. Later he heard a shout, and then vague accents of speech. But, when daylight arrived, the craft had disappeared. Elaine had not yet risen. Grenville quietly moved from one extremity of the headland to the other, searching the sea in all directions. He was soon convinced the visitor had not decamped, but had moved the vessel to one or another of the island's hidden inlets, that its movements, as well as those of its crew, should be no longer observed. One lingering hope, which he had fostered in his breast, that the natives might not prove a bloodthirsty lot of head-hunters after all, he felt he must definitely abandon. This furtive move under cover of the dark was not the sort of maneuver to excite one's trust or confidence. Elaine was standing in her shelter door when at length he came once more to his place by the top of the trail. She, too, had discovered the absence of the native vessel. "I think another one came in the night," she said, when Sidney explained his belief that the boat was in hiding behind the farther walls. "I am sure I heard another voice." Grenville recalled the shout that had followed the chanting and felt that this accounted for Elaine's conviction that more of the Dyaks had arrived. "We have not been actually seen as yet," he assured her. "Our flag of distress is not a positive sign of anyone's presence on the island. We shall soon determine by their movements whether these chaps intend to be friendly or not." "Would they hide if they meant to be friendly?" "It isn't a friendly sign---- You see, I'm still of opinion the island's wail is a sound they rather dread. Have you noticed it's rapidly failing?" "I've been ever so glad it seems so short and growing fainter." "Yes," he drawled. "I'm afraid it will soon cease altogether, when our friends may buck up their courage and--show us their state of mind." "What can we do in the meantime?" "Sit tight and watch for developments." But all that day there was never so much as a sound or a sign of the crew they had seen arrive. At one time, just before noon, Grenville fancied some movement occurred in the rocks that crowned the second hill. But he detected no further indication that someone might have scaled the cliff to spy on himself and Elaine. He had never in his island rambles discovered a place by which that hill could be surmounted. That easy access might be obtained on the seaward side he readily understood. He fretted under the long suspense--the uncertainty brooding over the island. He much preferred that the visitors exhibit a downright hostile intent than to feel that beneath the sinister calm of thicket and jungle might lurk insidious death. He felt that Elaine and himself would lack for nothing, except fresh meat, for at least a couple of days, yet he knew that even their fruit supply was wholly inadequate for a siege, should the new arrivals make up their minds to starve them on the terrace. Rather than weakly submit to any such abominable tactics, he was fully determined to bring about an attack. But how was an open question. When once again the night drew on the man was impatient and weary. He had taken no rest after all his long previous day of toil, yet to sleep and invite disaster up the trail was quite impossible. "We shall have to divide the night," said Elaine, with her customary practical courage. "We have simply got to be sensible to preserve our strength in case we have to fight." Grenville consented to give her the watch till midnight. The island's wail in the late afternoon had seemed no fainter than that of the previous day. He was quite convinced there would be no night attack. Yet he stretched a cord across the trail that must pull at his arm and so give an alarm should anyone enter at his gate. Doubtless in this confidence he fell asleep with more than usual promptness. He was far more weary than he knew, and Nature demanded her dues. Elaine was glad he could slumber so profoundly. The night was barely cool; she was not in the least uncomfortable as she sat at Grenville's side. She knew he would waken at the slightest tug on the cord so quickly contrived to warn of an enemy's approach, and therefore felt a decided sense of security, despite the living silence of the night. Long before midnight she was tense with nervous apprehension. Sounds from the jungle arose from time to time where some animal prowled for its prey. A whisper came up from the waves that lapped the cliff, and haunted the air as if with spirits. She had steeled her heart, however, and would not weaken by a jot. The hours would wear away somehow, and meantime--Sidney was resting. She did not arise to walk about as Grenville would have done. Instead she sat there, stiffly alert, turning her head from side to side, as the minutes dragged heavily by, listening, staring through the darkness, fancying shapes had begun to move in the shadows of the rocks. It was finally late in the dead of night when a sound of unusual heaviness arose from the brink of the cliff. Had someone dropped a rock in the sea, the disturbance could scarcely have been clearer. It had come, she thought, from over beyond the great black tree that loomed against the sky. She wondered if perhaps she ought to speak to Sidney. She put out her hand to touch him lightly on the shoulder, but withdrew it again with a smile. He was sleeping so like a tired boy! The sound had doubtless been nothing to rouse the slightest alarm. If it came again---- It did come again, less loud and distinct, but none the less unmistakable. Her heart responded immediately with a quicker, heavier beat. Perhaps she should try to ascertain the source or the cause of the noise. She should feel so ashamed, so weak and burdensome, to Grenville if she woke him for nothing at all. To look about was assuredly part of her duty while on guard. It was only a step to the edge of the terrace, across familiar ground. Chiding herself for unwarranted timidity and lack of courage, she silently left her seat at last and stepped from Grenville's side. One of his sticks was lying near. She took it in her hand. Then over through the shadows she glided as noiselessly as a spirit, goading herself to the ordeal with thoughts of the bold and fearless manner the man would show were he in her place on this safe and childish excursion. She had heard nothing more, though she frequently paused to hold her breath and await a further sound. It was wholly absurd, she told herself, for her heart to pound so madly. Just there to the brink, past those few large stones and shadows, and she would probably hear some slopping of the waves that would quiet her liveliest suspicion. Despite her utmost efforts, however, she could not stand upright as she went, and she could not continue quite to the edge without one or two more pauses to catch her breath that would not come calmly to her lips. But she forced herself all the way--save just the final cautious edging to the scarp, where she suddenly knelt and leaned a little forward. She was still a bit short of the brink, but remained where she was to calm her heart and listen. She could hear the water plainly. She felt entitled to arise and hasten back to Sidney--since of course there was nothing further to be heard. But, before she could gather the strength to rise, a series of short, percussive sounds all but froze the core of her heart--so much did it seem like someone heavily panting. Then, as she sat there staring helplessly at the jagged edge, four dark things--four fingers--crept actively over the lip of the wall--and a face abruptly followed, with a knife between its teeth! "Sidney!" she cried, and, madly thrusting the stick she had brought against the dark and hideous countenance, she arose and fled wildly from the place. CHAPTER XXXI THE SILENT VISITORS Grenville came running across the rock-strewn terrace as if guided by superinstinct. He fancied a sound like a heavy splash arose from the base of the shadowy wall, and momentarily sickened to the bottom of his soul with the thought that Elaine had fallen over. He saw her darting towards him a moment later, however, and caught her protectingly in his arms as she stumbled on a rock and plunged headlong against his breast. She instantly regained her foothold and clung to his arm, brokenly stammering her story and facing back the way she had come to show where the loathsome apparition had appeared above the brink. Sidney hastened there at once, armed only with a stone. Elaine, in a violent tremble, stood a few feet only away, having followed in unabated dread. Not another sound could Grenville detect as he leaned above the precipitous plunge attempting to pierce through the shadows and gloom, as he watched for some movement below. Whether the man had fallen backward from the lip, to go hurtling down through the darkness, or whether he had accomplished some swift and silent retreat, Sidney had no means of ascertaining. Only the ceaseless lap of the tide made a whisper in the air. He arose and returned to Elaine. "I had no idea the cliff was scalable," he told her, quietly. "I doubt if that means of spying will be attempted again---- It was a beastly way of showing their intentions towards us, but I'm glad to know what to expect." "Where has he gone?" Elaine faintly chattered. "If he should only be waiting to come again---- Such a horrible fright---- I don't know why I didn't faint, or what I did. I'm so weak I can hardly walk." "Oh, you're as right a trivet!" said Grenville, with a ready comprehension of the need of keeping up her courage. "You can now retire with a comforting sense of having saved the night." But Elaine's sense of comfort was a woefully negative quantity. She was shaken to the center of her nerves. She dreaded to be left for a moment. Grenville, however, sent her off to bed in the most peremptory manner. A realizing sense that their trials had only well begun was his one deeply settled conviction. "Cheer up!" he said to her, finally, "the worst is still to come." "I'll try," she answered, courageously. "But please don't let it come to-night." For more than two hours she did not sleep, or even close her eyes. Then she dragged her couch to a space outside her door. Every movement made by Grenville, as he watchfully policed the edge of the terrace, she thus followed for a time, half rising beneath her tiger-skin rug in her dread to hear him go. When she finally slept she dreamed once more of the murderous eyes, the clenched white teeth, and the flame-shaped blade she had seen at the brink of the cliff. Grenville heard her laboredly call his name as in her dreams she once more underwent her disturbing ordeal, but he did not move from his seat. At dawn she was slumbering more peacefully, a smile on her lips as she lay there facing his position. What a royal little princess of the island she appeared with her colorful robe lying out upon the rocks, her hair so much more golden than the tawny hide, and the warm, healthy glow restored once more to her cheeks! Grenville was sure he had never half appreciated the wonder and abundance of her hair, the darker penciling of her arching brows, the delicate beauty of her features. He presently once more bent his attention on the island that rendered up never a sign. Neither the jungle, the summits of the further hills, nor the sea that stretched interminably about them enlightened his searching eyes. Save for that night experience, it might have seemed preposterous that enemies existed in the miniature world by which they were surrounded. He crept in his cautious manner to the crumbling edge where Elaine had seen the face. There was nothing below in the water. He could readily follow the bits of shelf and succession of pits in the wall, however, whereby a daring, barefooted native might grope his way to the summit, even in the dark. It would doubtless be possible here, he reflected, to explode a bomb against the pitted surface and break away so large a cavity as to render all future ascents impossible. But this was a task to be deferred for a time, since he had no wish to acquaint the visitors oversoon with the fact that he possessed an explosive. When he returned to the shelter again, Elaine had waked and carried her couch to the cave. Despite the fact the hour was early and the sun only well above the ocean's rim, she declared she had rested much longer than was either wise or essential. Yet there was nothing to do for either, now that the day was begun. Their breakfast of fruits was soon concluded, then of occupation there was none. Grenville felt it inadvisable to move about too freely on the terrace, and thereby risk betraying the fact they were only two in number. A watcher stationed on the second hill could not, as a matter of fact, examine the entire top of the terrace, or even discern its principal features, but he might ascertain decidedly too much, should they carelessly expose themselves to view. The morning proved for Grenville another exasperation. He thought of nothing by way of labor he could advantageously perform. Their defense, though crude, was fairly complete, and could scarcely be improved. To watch the edge of the jungle, hour after hour, where never a sign was vouchsafed his vigilance, was a dulling inactivity, yet a highly essential precaution that was not to be neglected. By noon he was fairly in a mood to seek out the island's invaders alone, to hasten some definite action. That the natives intended to starve them into a visit to the spring seemed all too obvious. Grenville felt assured, however, the water down in the cavern would suffice for their needs, if no better could be relied upon, when once their jars were empty, while gathering fruit would not be wholly impossible under cover of the night. With the thought in mind that only the trail would be kept under watch by the Dyaks, he made up his mind he could readily contrive a ladder-like platform to extend from the brink, whereby the distance to the nearest tree might be conveniently bridged to permit easy access to the jungle. Of creepers and extra bamboo poles he had laid in ample stock. For the lack of better employment, he began the construction of his bridge when their meager luncheon had been finished. His mind, as he worked, spun schemes innumerable for the daily defeat of the natives. Aware that as long as the terrace could be held starvation and thirst would be their only unconquerable enemies, he entertained no end of plans for catching fish without bait and even trapping or fishing up small animals that might rove at night below the cliff. From these reflections he returned to the men who prowled about them after dark. To secure his cord across the trail and thereby provide an alarm, or notice of the enemy's approach, from that direction, was a very simple matter. When he finally invented, in his mind, a singular "rattle" to guard the approach by the cliff, he dropped all employment on the bridge at once and began forthwith on the other. What he made was a series of bamboo buckets, or cuplike sections of the hollow tube, with stones suspended inside to knock against the walls when the things were lightly shaken. These he intended to hang, one beside another, in a line from the brink of the wall, where a climber must strike them unawares and sound a resonant warning. But he found, on hanging a pair some ten feet down along the face, where the man had climbed in the night, that the wind would sway them to and fro against the rock and constantly ring their hollow tones. This defect he presently remedied by forming a frame, some ten feet long and one foot wide, in which all his cups were suspended, or moored, both top and bottom. They were thus so lightly hung that the smallest jar against the frame would joggle them all to musical utterance, while the wind could have no effect on any single one. The entire frame was lowered down till it rested a bit unevenly on two projecting shelves of rock, where it leaned a trifle outward like a picture on a wall, as the creepers that held it from falling were finally made secure. When Grenville, by way of a trial, nudged it once with a pole thrust down against it for the purpose, it rattled out a decisive alarm that one could have heard from the trail. Grenville thereupon brought out a bomb from his store and lowered it down below the frame, and six or eight feet to the side. This was secured not only by the fuse, but likewise by more of the creeper. Elaine, who during his absence had maintained the watch of the trail, now ran to the place, at Grenville's signal, for a moment's inspection of the whole arrangement and instruction concerning its use. It was while they were there that the haunting wail arose for a gasping spasm. It had practically failed. Sidney doubted if its loudest note could have been heard as far as the spring. But still the end of the tiresome day developed no attack. Grenville was completely puzzled by the tactics the boatmen had adopted. That they knew Elaine was present on the terrace there could be not a shadow of doubt. Even if the man she had thrust away from the cliff-edge fell to the sea and was dashed to pieces, or drowned, his friends who had brought him around to the place must have heard her voice and recognized its feminine quality. They would likewise know she could hardly be alone, and would guess her companions were not numerous or likely to be armed. No plundered wreckage lay about the shore from which castaways could have drawn ammunition or rifles. It was utterly impossible for any ignorant natives to imagine the loading of a cannon or the making of bombs from materials on the place. What, then, was the reason of their long delay? They could scarcely be waiting for reinforcements. They would hardly be dreading the island's "spirit" now, since the sounds had practically ceased, and one man had dared ascend the cliff with a knife between his teeth. That they feared an open attack by day and dreaded the tiger by night was the only tenable theory that Grenville could devise. Yet the fact of the matter was that, until the cavern "spirit" should be absolutely silenced, the superstitious Dyaks could only be forced by the bulldozing threats and ferocity of their fiendish leader to set foot upon the land. It was he who had sent the climber up the wall, having thrust a pistol behind the fellow's ear. A certain tragic outcome of this premature adventure had been wholly attributed by the victim's companions to the anger of the wailing soul who inhabited the headland. The bridge, constructed of bamboo supports, was a simple affair, completed and ready by sunset. Before the darkness was absolute, Grenville conveyed it along to the eastern jutting of the cliff, slid it down to a ledge below the level of the terrace, and easily thrust the end across to the nearest tree, where it rested securely on the branches. He found that it bore his weight remarkably well. With an ordinary length of pliable ladder he could reach the ground beneath the tree without the slightest difficulty, thereby escaping all the undergrowth and broken rock that would render a straight descent from the brink not only a noisy piece of business, but likewise one of considerable hazard and discomfort. And descending thus, instead of employing the trail, he could certainly expect to escape the shrewdest observation on the part of any native set to watch for some night adventure. Indeed, so alluring became the prospect of leaving the hill, to conduct some helpful and informing explorations, that he could scarcely wait for the shadows of night to settle on the island before he should test his apparatus. Elaine was frankly and confessedly alarmed when at length he could resist the temptation no longer and announced his intentions for expending a portion of the evening. He set an alarm at the gate on the trail, however, and, arming himself with his heavy, cleaver-like implement for chopping, instructed his worried companion to fire the cannon without delay should attack develop in his absence. "I am sure you will have no visitors, but, in case you do, don't wait to see who it is, or how many," he said; "let the little gun count the numbers." "But suppose--it might be you!" "I shall not return that way. You may look for me back in fifteen or twenty minutes at the most. I feel it's important to know what is going on, as well as to gather a bit of fruit, and see what I may be enabled to do by way of setting some traps for game. If one of my snares could be brought a trifle closer, it might provide us with the meat we certainly ought to have." Without another word, she watched him depart for his bridge and ladder to the jungle. CHAPTER XXXII DEATH AS A BROTHER Despite the ease with which, in theory, he expected to descend to the ground, Grenville was fully ten minutes escaping from the tree. A number of twigs that he could not have passed without creating a disturbance he cut away with his knife. His ladder was also badly caught and stubbornly refused to be adjusted. One violent rustling of a heavy limb he caused when it finally slipped straight down, with his feet all but striking on the ground. He remained perfectly silent, ready for immediate retreat, regaining his breath and straining his ears for the slightest sound, for a long, uneventful minute. When he finally drew his sharp brass cleaver from his pocket and started through the thicket, there was not the slightest sound in all the region about him, either of animals or men. Into one of the numerous wild creatures' trails he found his way with greater ease because of his thorough familiarity with all that end of the island. The trail, as he knew, led down by the spring, where a branch wound first towards the estuary and then across the bed of the rill, where it cut the path through the axis of the island. Almost as noiselessly as one of the creatures hunted or hunting in the hours of blackest shadow, he made his way down to the rear of the pool, where he paused as before to listen. The squeal of some little nocturnal beast and the patter of something paddling about in the water convinced him at once the Dyaks were certainly not there, or else were most skillfully hidden. With a steadily increasing conviction that the boatmen would stick to their craft at night, he felt his boldness strengthen. The importance of discovering the enemy's position was duly impressed on his mind. He felt that once he could gain the principal pathway down the island's length he could follow the edge of a narrow bit of clearing, off to the left of the rotting old barque, and thus arrive above the inlet, where he was certain their vessel was concealed. No less quietly than before he continued out around the spring, then turned to the left, in the narrow runway of the animals, and emerged behind the estuary, where absolute stillness prevailed. He presently fancied, as he slowly continued towards the old-time wreck, that a murmur of distant voices arose from off at the left. This became a certainty when he reached his irregular clearing. Moreover, he was halfway only down this slope of rock and thicket when simultaneously, out on the tide, some eighty or ninety feet apart, two matches were lighted, as he could see, for pipes or cigarettes. Elaine had been right! There were two of the boats that were anchored here together! But, although more murmurs continued to arise, where a desultory conversation was from time to time renewed on either craft, he could by no means ascertain either the number of the Dyaks or what it was of which they talked. Satisfied with what he had discovered, and certain now the fellows were afraid to remain on the island after dark, he returned up the slope with an easier stride, determined to see what might be done by way of collecting some fruit. He came once more to the main trail through the island, pausing to hearken once again as a sound of splashing in the inlet came uncertainly on the breeze. Doubtless the crew had dipped a pail of water, he thought, or thrown overboard some refuse from their dinner. He had no more than headed again towards the hill where Elaine was waiting, and swung about from the branch to the principal trail, when, without the slightest warning sound, he suddenly and heavily collided with someone moving as noiselessly as himself in the opposite direction. He only saw that the man thus encountered was bare of shoulders and taller than himself as he thrust out to fend the fellow off. He knew on the instant it was one of the boldest of the head-hunters, if not indeed their chief. The fellow had grunted at the impact, and, quick to discover it was not a member of the vessels' crews, abruptly sounded one triumphant yell as he reached for his knife and lunged forward. There were answering cries from a few feet only behind him--which Grenville heard as he crashed precipitately through the near-by thicket and made for the trail to the barque. The hue and cry was instantly raised as the fellow pursuing came wildly through the jungle on his track. Shouting instructions to his following, this obvious leader of the prowling band continued as closely as possible on Grenville's heels, while the others headed swiftly towards the estuary, convinced that their man would dart around and make for his camp on the hill. The chief of the natives entertained the same belief, as Grenville immediately comprehended. Having planned exactly as they had supposed he would, Sidney altered his course on the instant, dived down on all-fours in an animal path he had frequently followed before, and thus crept noiselessly off to the left, once more towards the plundered wreck. Almost at once an ominous silence reigned as before in the place. The natives, having soon missed their quarry, stood perfectly still, at command of their chief, to listen and gain a new guidance. Tempted to put all possible distance between himself and his pursuers, Grenville continued on, a bit incautiously. A branch he had thrust from before his face slipped back before he had intended its release. At once the listening head-hunters plunged forward again in his direction. Fortunately, Sidney retained his presence of mind and continued to crawl on hands and knees, instead of attempting swifter flight through the branches that closed above the trail. With the sounds of his eager enemy approaching to a sweat-starting proximity, he dared lie perfectly motionless on the earth, till he heard them quietly exploring as before on the lines he must take to regain the terrace at the rear. As silently now as a shadow, he wormed his way forward as before. He had gained perhaps a matter of twenty or thirty feet in this manner when, on coming at last to the edge of the clearing where the old barque lay, he heard the natives beating back, convinced that he had not passed. For one moment only was he seized by indecision. Then he darted across the clearing unobserved and, slipping between the ribs of the wreck, as he had on a previous occasion, went rapidly groping to the cabin, where sat the mummy-skeleton in chains. He had not achieved this maneuver in absolute silence, having sacrificed something to speed. Two of the head-hunters broke through the fringe of the thicket with furtive swiftness, as he noted through a hole in the planks. They were followed, a little further on, by the tall man first encountered, and later by a small but constantly moving companion, who disappeared again. At a given signal two of the creatures ran swiftly about the barque, one going in either direction. They had evidently expected to corner their intended victim crouching behind the empty shell. When they presently returned to their leader, a brief consultation was held. Grenville watched them breathlessly, aware that Elaine's position, alone on the hill, was tremendously jeopardized every moment he now remained away. Should more of the Dyaks be summoned from the boats--the time would be short for prayers. Considerably to his relief, the three dark figures resumed the search along the edge of the clearing. They were gone from sight for several minutes, and again returned, apparently persuaded their quarry had not escaped them back to the camp. One even ventured to approach the barque and peer through its rotted ribs. Grenville had quietly moved aside, though the darkness would have shielded him completely. When the fellow rejoined his companions again, the chief issued new commands. A brief expostulation followed. Sidney was certain that one of two things portended. Either the leader had ordered his man to go down to the boats and compel a force to land and storm the now half-guarded hill, which the fellow argued was more than he could do with Dyaks afraid of the darkness as well as the island's spirit, or the order was--to board and search the wreck. Either was sufficiently disquieting, as Grenville controlled his breathing and watched for the next development to follow. He presently saw the tall, bare-shouldered native strike his protesting follower a savage blow across the face, thrusting something that gleamed against the shaken creature's ear so soon as he had righted. The craven was then ready to obey. He accepted something that Grenville could not see, doubtless another revolver, and came forward as if to enter the old ship's hull--but not through the hole in her side. Meantime, the fourth of the party had once more appeared from the growth. He apparently suggested that crews from the vessels be summoned, doubtless to attack the hill. Also he presumably volunteered to go and compel their attendance on their chief. His gestures and those of the leader, as they thus conversed in murmurs, were all towards the inlet where the boats were anchored or towards the distant hill. He who had plainly been commanded to enter and search the wreck took advantage of the colloquy to linger with the group. It was not until the small and active demon of the lot had darted away to land more men that the chief once more turned his attention to the coward. Whining his impotent excuses and expostulations, the fellow affrightedly climbed upon the deck and was ordered to explore the cabin. That he might be killed by the desperate white man possibly hiding in the vessel's hold, the chief was well aware. The sacrifice of a man more or less was unimportant--provided the quarry was thereby discovered in a hole where he could not escape. This fact was fully appreciated by two other persons concerned. One of these persons was Grenville, the second the terrified native. This shivering wretch, who had known for years of the terrible guardian sitting in iron chains within, blundered noisily about in the upper quarters, so afraid he could have offered no defense to a child's attack. Grenville was undecided as to what he were wiser to do. To sink his cleaver through the Dyak's skull would presently be comparatively simple. And, should absolutely silent death overtake this miserable slave of the man outside, the moral effect might be of value. It might be supposed by his companions he had died of fright alone. Yet Sidney argued that any fate whatsoever silencing the fellow now might be construed as proof of his own presence in the wreck. Instantly deciding that, once they concluded he was not here, the Dyaks would leave and permit his escape, Grenville silently crept to the open door beside the dead man held in chains, slipped behind the rotted old partition, and, without a sound, replaced the door almost as he had originally found it. The chief had meantime approached the barque, to order his man to the hold. To the musty cabin where "Buli" sat, the fellow was forced to stumble. Some report he quavered in accents of terror was not received with favor, and a new command was issued. Grenville made ready to drop the man, should he dare push open the door. He was certain the craven had been ordered to this fatal exploration. But, instead, the whining demon lighted a match, to reveal all the contents of the place. By the yellow light both this fellow and the leader, peering through the side, met the vacant stare of "Buli's" eyes--and both were frightened to utterance. The chief's brief note was a rigmarole of charm, to avert the evil eye. His slave's shrill performance was a scream, as the fellow reeled back, stumbling blindly away and falling as he went. The pistol he carried was discharged. The fellow was wounded in the hip. His groans, as he dragged himself out on the deck, were drowned by the curses of the leader. This dominant brute, having noticed the door where Sidney stood concealed, now ordered the second of his men to explore where the first had failed. As Grenville once more looked out through a ragged hole to observe the proceedings, this second fellow began a somewhat stouter objection than his predecessor had done, but was even more promptly cowed or persuaded to submission. Meanwhile, the cries of a horde of Dyaks from the boats arose from the jungle below. They had evidently landed with considerable willingness of spirit, as Grenville was thoroughly aware. He thought of Elaine with a sudden sinking of the vitals. No sooner had the second of the natives started to mount to the deck, where number one still lay groaning, than a wild idea shot into Sidney's mind. At any cost, he must make one dash for the hill. He quietly slipped to the cabin again, where "Buli" had long been captain and crew of the barque. The one brief glance he bestowed, through the hole, on the leader of the murderous demons, now hastening to the place, showed that ingenious savage standing perhaps a rod away and calling to the on-coming crews. The fellow on deck was making sufficient noise to mask a fair disturbance in the cabin. Taking instant advantage of this fact, Grenville groped downward with his hands--and encountered "Buli" promptly. "I need your services, brother," he murmured, grimly, and, finding the chain that shackled the sitting skeleton, he placed one foot upon its upper end and tore the staple entirely out of the rotten wood it pierced. Bodily lifting the mummified thing in his arms, he hastened forward, to the hole that he alone had dared to utilize, broken through the decaying hulk, where he passed first his burden and then himself between the ancient ribs. A cry had been sounded from within the barque. The chief of the Dyaks suddenly turned and rushed, knife in hand, upon the man he beheld escaping from the hold. Grenville waited for him, deliberately. Just as the fellow lunged actively forward, Sidney thrust the hideous effigy of a human being into the arms and against the face of his wildly stabbing assailant and nimbly leaped towards the trail. A sound of horror broke from the Dyak's lips as he rolled on the earth with the skeleton rattling down upon him. But a brief time only was he prostrate there with his terror. Uttering screams as shrill as a woman's and darting swiftly to meet his crew of men, who suddenly swarmed from the thicket, he headed a wild, fanatic pursuit where Grenville was speeding for the terrace. CHAPTER XXXIII THE GIRL BEHIND THE GUN Alone on the hill, and already strung to the highest tension of dread by Grenville's long absence, after what he had said of a prompt return, Elaine had been struck with alarm to the core of her being, as the various sounds came clearly up from the jungle about the disintegrated wreck. It was fears for Sidney, not for herself, that had finally possessed her fluttering heart as the muffled shot and subsequent cries floated uncertainly from down there in the darkness. She knew that Grenville had no gun, and was, therefore, certain it was he who must have suffered a wound. With a blazing torch she had run to the edge of the terrace, to light Sidney home, if, by any bare chance, he had escaped. She was there, transfixed by apprehension, when at length, with cries like a pack of wolves, the Dyaks came racing towards the clearing. Meantime Grenville had gained a considerable lead of the devils on his heels, and, on passing the spring, had caught a glimpse of Elaine with her brand of fire. He paused for a second to shout essential directions, lest she might have forgotten in her plight. "Don't fire, Elaine, till you see them on the trail!" With that he darted abruptly to the left, for the animal trail that would lead him to his ladder. He had no more than gained it when, with a chorus of demoniac yells and screams of triumph, the straggling pursuers broke madly into the clearing and darted across it for the trail. Even then, afraid that Elaine might fail to perform her allotted task, Grenville sped up his ladder like a creature of the wild, and came to the end of his platform. The Dyaks were immediately storming the barrier, the breach of which was promptly discovered, and Sidney's alarm was jerkily resounding. Like a spirit of maternity, nerved to any ordeal by the sense of protecting one she loved, Elaine crouched low beside the cannon, her dilated eyes intent upon the trail. She had clung to a hope that Grenville might yet appear in time to take charge of the gun. But suddenly now, to her terror, four or more figures darkly appeared on the ledge above the gate, coming swiftly towards her position. She thrust the torch desperately down upon the fuse, saw the powder spew out a shower of sparks, and rolled and tumbled hotly from the place. She was suddenly agonized by the thought that the thing would fail, but Grenville had barely reached the solid rock when the cannon abruptly thundered. A wide-spreading cataract of fire was projected in a red-and-yellow cone across the space between the brink and the wall behind the trail, as the powder poured its punishment into the ranks of the creatures leaping upward to destruction. The detonation, sharp, crisp, appallingly loud in the stillness of the island, fairly stunned Elaine, now kneeling helplessly among the rocks. Shrieks of dismay and sudden agony immediately succeeded the explosion, while its echoes still rattled wildly back from the distant hills of rock. In the utter darkness, by contrast following the one brief glare, there was nothing to be seen along the path. But wounded men were staggering downward, in blind retreat, already abandoned by their unscathed companions, in flight below the gate. Grenville had run to his store of bombs, instead of coming straight to the gun. He meant to be prepared against a second attack. As his active figure now appeared where he hastened brinkward, watching both trail and clearing, Elaine beheld him at last. She arose and stumbled towards him, her feet still heavy with her dread, her heart wildly leaping in joy. "Were you shot?" she cried. "Are you hurt?" "No, right as a fiddler!" he assured her, quickly, glancing down at the shadowy path. "I only wish I could bait them again and lead the remainder to the gun!" He charged the piece at once, having brought for the purpose a bamboo canister of powder, open and heaping at the end. This he thrust complete down the muzzle of the cannon, to be rammed home with dozens of his slugs. Cries still arose from the jungle, more faintly, now, as the Dyaks retreated down the island. Excitement still rang in the air. Neither Grenville nor Elaine felt certain the attack would not be renewed. There was something dark that Sidney could see, crawling painfully down the incline of the trail, assisting something more inert. He purposely shielded Elaine from the sight, lest she understand too well. He much preferred that the Dyaks recover their possible slain from about the place. Elaine was still too tensely wrought for reaction. She could hardly understand how the situation had been changed so abruptly from attack into utter rout. Her ears were still ringing from the cannon's deafening roar. She had taken no time to comprehend the results of what she had accomplished. "How shall we know if they do come back?" she questioned, excitedly. "They probably broke the alarm." "I'll repair it soon. Did it ring? But, of course, you couldn't have taken time to hear. Did you understand me when I shouted?" "I heard it, horribly shaken," said Elaine. "I heard so many awful noises. I heard you call, of course. But, perhaps, I didn't wait long enough, after all. I don't seem to remember. I waited as long as I could. I hope I only frightened them away!" She sat down, overtaken at last by weakness in her limbs. The torch she had used had fallen from her hand. It barely smoldered on the rocks. Grenville extinguished it completely, then continued to prime the cannon as before, with powder sprinkled on the vent, and a fuse laid for several feet along the ledge. He was glad to note the little piece had been securely held in place upon its log by its wrappings and the weight of heavy stones. "I'll go down and examine the gate," he said, aware that, though the Dyaks had undoubtedly suffered severely, a still attack might yet be attempted in the dark. Therefore, leaving Elaine to recover as best she might, he was soon moving cautiously along the narrow ledge. The night had precipitated war. That he and Elaine would be called upon to endure war's customary hazards, hardships, and horrors he was grimly ready to concede. She had made an amazingly fine beginning. It was certainly not the time for him to weaken her now by misplaced tenderness, vastly as he wished to spare her shock and trial. The crawling objects he had seen from above had vanished beyond the solid wall he had built to shut out the tiger. All the way down to this barrier he made his way, Elaine meanwhile watching from the cliff. There were dark, irregular blotches here and there along the rocks, and on these he scraped a hiding film of dust. How much of the contents of the gun had been expended uselessly against the wall could not be determined in the dark. He felt assured a heavy toll had been collected on the trail, if not in killed, at least in wounded and, doubtless, disabled men. The cord arranged to sound his alarm had been broken in the charge. He found the ends, repaired the damage, crept further along to scan the silent and deserted clearing, then promptly returned to secure a basket, and boldly went down to gather extra fruit. "I wish I knew where to get some meat," he told Elaine, as he came with his plunder to the terrace. "I don't know when I shall have another hour so absolutely safe." But beyond removing his ladder and bridge, he performed no more labor that night. It was not yet late. Elaine was too excited to retire. She sat with him, nervously listening to all the far sounds of the jungle, as he kindled their fire to a blaze. "I wonder how long we can keep it up--go on as we are going now," she reflected aloud at last. "Mustn't they get us in the end?" "Well--not till we've made it a fair exchange, at least." "There must be a dozen of them about us, six or more to our one." "There were, perhaps, an hour ago, but hardly so many now. One shot himself, down in the jungle, gunning for me, while the cannon---- But your intuition was accurate--a second boatload did arrive to join the first." He added a brief recital of what he had seen and what had taken place at the rotted barque, sparing the details which, he felt, would more alarm than assure her, respecting "Buli" and the drama played at the clearing. "Two boatloads!" she repeated. "What reason could they possibly have for coming at last to this island? They couldn't have known we were here--at least not the first who came." "No," said Grenville, slowly, reflecting that the time for his revelation was, perhaps, a trifle overdue, "they came, I believe, to secure the treasure in the cave." Elaine glanced up at him quickly. "The treasure you have joked about before?" "It was not altogether a joke. The treasure is there--or, at least, it was, before I removed it to the passage." "Not something actually valuable? What sort of things do you mean?" "Gold and precious stones--a lot of heavy plunder--enough of the jewels alone to fill a hat." Elaine slightly gasped. "And they came for that? And you have taken it out--have hidden it, rather--and you think, perhaps, they have missed it?" "No, I hardly believe they have been to the cave as yet. It isn't theirs, the beggars! Not that it's of any account to us, but I don't feel sure if I gave it up they'd depart and leave us in peace. At any rate, I don't propose they shall have it." Elaine was silent for a moment, and filled with wonder. "How did you manage to find it?" "Entirely by accident. I pulled down a stone that concealed a secret chamber, where someone had walled it in. It has doubtless been there for many generations--as these fellows have probably known." "And suppose they find the chamber looted--may they not be all the more savage and eager to tear us to pieces?" "Well--I should say their ambition in that respect has already about reached its limit." Elaine could still feel her heart pounding heavily in her bosom. She returned to her original query. "If we go on like this for a week, what then? Is there anything in the world to prevent them from waiting and waiting and waiting, till----" She did not finish her sentence, but the slightest shudder shook her frame. "They were goaded to action to-night," said Grenville, hopefully. "They may feel sufficiently aggrieved to return for more. If not--they must be invited." "But surely you'll not attempt such a venture as this again?" Grenville rubbed at his jaw. "I wish it might be duplicated! No such luck is likely. But I feel very certain we'd both rather cash in fighting than to starve like rats in a trap." "Yes," Elaine faltered, in her quiet way of courage, "but--if it has to come--let's try to--receive it here together." CHAPTER XXXIV DYAK DARTS AND METHODS Long-distance fighting began an hour after sunrise in the morning. It was rather a long-distance attack, since Grenville, armed only with the cannon, was powerless to retaliate, except at great expense of ammunition, and with questionable results. One of the Dyaks had stationed himself on the central hill of the island with some sort of ancient rifle. He took a deliberate shot at Sidney the moment that unsuspecting thorn in their sides chanced to make an appearance on the western section of the terrace. The bullet went wide, having struck among the rocks some fifteen feet away, arousing Grenville's contempt. Not even Elaine was greatly frightened by this overture from the enemy, whose marksman could have but a limited view of that unused section of the headland. But the first small dart that sped lightly up from the jungle, to drop almost at Grenville's feet, was another affair altogether. He knew the thing was not only sharp, but literally soaked with poison. It had only to prick through the skin of one's hand, or even, perhaps, through the thinness of their garments, to perform its deadly function. The merest chance shot was thus extremely likely to achieve what the rifleman could not. These hideous little messengers of agony and death were rained all morning on the terrace. They fell near the furnace for keeping fire; they dropped by the door of the shelter. A few even sped as far as the powder magazine, where Grenville found them on the rock and gravel roof. Ample protection was afforded by remaining under cover, but this was not altogether wise or safe, except, perhaps, for Elaine. Grenville felt he must constantly watch the clearing. In the light of day his alarm could be discovered and removed, to permit an attack too sudden to be opposed. He, therefore, constructed a bamboo shield, with which to protect his head and a part of his body, as he moved about among the rocks, or concealed himself near the cannon. Not more than twice in all the morning did he see so much as one of the tubes--the long, slender blowguns of the hidden foe--while this silent bombardment continued. It was useless to think of slewing about his little brass piece for a shot at mere motionless jungle. It was equally impossible, he confessed, to excite the Dyaks to another charge until they should finally make up their minds a sudden assault would succeed. He was rather surprised they had made no attempt to rush him at earliest dawn. The ledge was, however, very narrow. It afforded the one and only approach, and the dire disaster of the night before had rendered far more cowardly the set of treacherous and utterly craven murderers these boatmen undoubtedly were. All afternoon the darts continued falling, intermittently--and Grenville made no response. His silence, indeed, was a mystery which the Dyaks not only failed to understand, but, likewise, a little dreaded. That he had no rifle they were thoroughly convinced. But that roar of his cannon they had understood, and to hear it again they had no appetite. Moreover, its deadly hail and detonation had come so unexpectedly, from the erstwhile silent terrace, that they knew not what to expect concerning the future. Not without hopes of actually slaying some of the unknown forces on the crest of the hill, they shot an exceptional number of their darts from the nearby thicket as the sun at last declined. Grenville, having at length established what he thought to be a line of the little missiles' flight, hastily made and bound up a bomb of no more than two pounds' weight. This, with a fuse too short for ordinary safety, he finally carried to the westward brink with one of his glowing coals of fire. The patient rifleman, waiting on his hill, immediately blazed away, as before--and missed the entire bulk of rock. Grenville paid not even the tribute of a glance at the opposite summit, as he thrust his fuse down upon his coal. The hiss of the powder gave him a start, so swiftly did it travel towards the bomb. With all his might he threw the thing outward at the shadowed spot whence he thought the darts were flying. The quick, sharp bark and the patch of flame behind the design of a palm leaf, came like a clap of thunder, just before the second when the bomb would have struck on the earth. A yell of dismay, or anguish, or both, and a scattering shower of shredded greenery supplied the only report of results that Grenville was destined to receive. The flight of darts was ended. A few hurried movements in the thicket, and a groan that Sidney felt was smothered, were the only signs vouchsafed him that the powder had not been cheaply wasted. "It's a poor way to fight the hidden devils," he told Elaine, as he came once more to the shelter, "but it may possibly serve to keep them further away, and force them to different tactics." It certainly had this latter effect, but not immediately. There was no attack that night, and no disturbance in the jungle, though Sidney descended to the thicket and returned, not only with more fresh fruit he had located during the day, but also with a small wild hog he had captured in one of the older traps which the Dyaks had failed to discover. The morning developed nothing aggressive, save the presence of the marksman on hill number two with the rifle that Grenville said would only be deadly around a corner. Some plan of patient waiting appeared to have been matured in the Dyaks' mind, since one of their boats issued forth at last from its place, to circle about the headland like a vulture atilt for prey, while down in the cover of the greenery other natives undoubtedly lurked. They affrighted a flock of parrots here and there, from time to time, or set the timid monkeys to chattering and leaping through the upper foliage, apprising Grenville thus that the thickets were haunted below. No darts sped upward from the jungle edge, however, which, Sidney argued, might signify that the men with the deadly blow-guns possibly hoped to excite over-confidence in the keepers of the terrace, who might finally expose themselves to fewer, but more accurate, shots. In his forced inactivity, Grenville once more waxed impatient. He felt the heat of the blazing sun, which was daily growing more intense. He chafed at the thought of doing nothing while their water supply was steadily diminishing, and the Dyaks apparently planned to subdue him by thirst or famine. He dared not risk an exposure of the door to the secret passage by going for water to the cave below, especially as all his jugs were porous and permitted the water's escape by percolation, whereas the supply in the basins below might be better preserved where it was. A hundred useless plans for taking the war to the enemy's camp were presented to his mind, always to be promptly abandoned. He could only utilize his artillery for defense, and could not even hasten an attack. He could devise no means of ascertaining how many of the natives had either been killed or disabled. That fully ten survived, however, he felt was probable. One or two at the most was all the little cannon would be likely to rake in a charge. Early in the afternoon there was ample evidence of exceptional activity down in the heavy jungle growth, though none of the Dyaks was seen. The movements of birds and animals, as well as the swaying of branches or trees in various thickets under the cliff, sufficiently advertised the facts. Grenville was puzzled to understand what might be occurring, till, at length, he discovered that some of the fruit-bearing trees, on which he had counted for supplies, had been quietly denuded of their burdens, or even altogether destroyed. One large banana palm with fruit of exceptional quality, he even beheld as it toppled to the earth, where some fiendish head-hunter hacked through its fibrous trunk. Something sank in his breast as he witnessed this atrocious vandalism, and realized his helplessness to avert the oncoming famine of himself and the girl in his charge. That the spring would be guarded, night and day, was, of course, a foregone conclusion. And not even a plan for goading the Dyaks to another attack came in working order to his brain. That was a thoroughly disheartening day, sultry, and fraught with menace from all directions, as the Dyak craft continued to hover about upon the sea, and the pillaging continued in the thickets. All the work was, moreover, silent, grim, and ominous, with once in a while a dart spinning swiftly up from the tangle below, or, from time to time, an echoing shot coming from the opposite height with a bullet singing crazily by, or ripping along the rocks. Sidney made no attempt to descend that night, aware of the folly of an exploration into the enemy's lines, and the utter impossibility of discovering fruit in a nearer portion of the jungle. His entire wild hog had been roasted. For, perhaps, two days the meat might keep, in the coolness of the passage to the cave. Once more the night was uneventful, and silent. Once more came the day, and a blazing hot sun poured unveiled caloric on the summit of the terrace, where sultriness drank up the water that oozed through the substance of the jugs. "I've got to do something," Sidney declared. "We can't go on like this." Elaine was already denying herself the food and water she required. "I shall try to invent some means of enticing the creatures to the cave below--and, perhaps, explode a mine. If the watchers on that hovering ship saw me disappear in the hole, it is rather more than likely they would follow, thinking they had me bottled." Elaine always manifested interest, no matter what his scheme. "But how could that possibly be managed, now that you haven't your raft?" "I think by a ladder and platform, the ladder anchored as we had it the day I came up with your assistance, and the platform arranged of bamboo poles, which I can carry down through the passage. It will take me some time to get it ready--but something has got to be done." Elaine's eyes brightened with hope. "Please say there is something I can do to help," she begged. "You work so hard and constantly." "There will be rather warm employment for us both," he assured her, in his former way of cheer, "particularly towards the end." He brought his neglected ladder to the shelter, where Elaine was presently as busy as himself, rewinding the rungs in the creepers, and testing it all for strength. Just what his final plan would be she did not understand, but her confidence in his ability and resourcefulness was almost wholly without bounds. The usual vigilance was not for a moment neglected, but nothing occurred in the world below, save a repetition of the former day's activity on the part of the unseen natives. It was not until well in the afternoon that the Dyaks' plan developed. A breeze had sprung up from the north, bringing gushes of heat and jungle fragrance across the summit of the hill. Then, at length, as if this steadying wind was the final agency for which they had waited, the Dyaks set up a queer, wild chant from various places in the thicket. A few minutes later a cloud of smoke arose from one of their centers. This was followed by several more. A huge, thick smudge was soon rising upward from the earth, and rolling on the breeze to envelop all the headland. The Dyaks had gathered enormous quantities of resinous wood, and had deliberately fired the jungle! CHAPTER XXXV A BATTLE IN THE SMOKE No doubts could be for long entertained as to what the smudge was expected to accomplish. Its dense and suffocating fumes not only rendered a further watch upon the clearing or the trail practically useless, but it seemed to Grenville highly improbable that he or Elaine could for long survive the pungent reek they were soon obliged to breathe. There were two slight elements only in their favor. One was the passageway, through the rock, where clean fresh air was constantly flowing upward; the other was the very breeze itself that swept the smoke upon them. It frequently split the cloud of black and gray upon two juttings of the headland, or even beat it down and mingled its own overheated but acceptable ozone with the otherwise stifling fume. Anger and horror together had lodged in Grenville's being. That the Dyaks would soon attempt a sneak upon them, under cover of the cloud, he felt was as certain as that hideous death must be their portion, were this business sufficiently prolonged. Even retirement to the cavern could avail them nothing but a short delay of the fate they must finally face when their food and water should be presently exhausted. Under cover of the drifting smudge, he sent Elaine to the passage. As long as a breath remained in his lungs he resolved he would not desert his post, where he waited for attack by the trail. To permit the fiends to swarm upon the terrace, destroy or capture his powder and the gun, and prison himself and Elaine in the narrow gallery, was a thought that aroused him through and through. All further contemplation of his scheme for alluring the Dyaks to the cavern was necessarily abandoned. The most he could do was to watch as before, and, perhaps, convey his bombs and stores to the passage, as time and his highly essential vigilance permitted. Back and forth through the smoke he moved upon the hill, seeking the better air that came occasionally through the billows, and listening intently for the faintest sound from the always ready alarm. When an hour had gone and no attack had developed, his heart underwent a new despair. He began to doubt that the Fates would supply him an opportunity for further retaliation on the fiends below, who could finally overcome him with the fumes. The drift of smoke was intermittently broken, near the trail, where apparently a current of wind that assumed a rotation as it rose through a half-round niche of considerable dimensions in the wall, swept vertically upward to lift the billowing cloud. Thus for at least a portion of the time Grenville could glimpse the ledge behind the trail where besiegers must finally pass. So dense became the reek, however, that he feared his post must soon become insupportable. There was neither time nor air in which to arrange a longer fuse, which, as a matter of fact, would be too long for accurate work with the gun. He knew at last the hour was nearing sunset, and silence still seemed to roll with the smoke across the enveloped terrace. His eyes were burningly filled with water; his head had begun to ache. He went weakly over towards the gallery, intent upon breathing a little fresher air before resuming his duties. Suddenly, above the ringing in his ears, came a sound from his gate alarm. Its deep hollow tone was strangely resonant in all that blanket of smoke. He darted back, where lay his bombs and the short fuse laid to the cannon. The smudge had, unfortunately, fallen like a pall, concealing all the trail. It lifted slightly, however, as a fog may lift over waters, revealing one half-seen form upon the ledge. Then, in the second that Grenville laid his fire to the powder, his second alarm, from the frame of bamboo buckets, hung behind him on the wall, rattled out its xylophonic warning. The head-hunting demons, front and rear, were practically upon him! He fired the gun. Its orange flame shot out through the smoke in ragged spears, mingling the fume of imperfect powder with all that reek from the jungle. A gap was apparently torn in the rolling cloud, to be filled with a denser substance. Nothing could possibly be discerned where the charge must have splattered on the wall. There were cries in the air, but whether from pain, or the Dyaks' exultation, Grenville could never have told. Aware that the demons were capable of sacrificing some of their number to the gun, to beget its discharge, and thus clear the way for concerted attack by greater numbers, Grenville promptly lighted the fuse of a bomb and hurled it from him down the trail. It burst in the smoke, its red blot of fire a lurid illumination in the black and gray billows from the smudge. Again a cry succeeded, this one unquestionably voicing some wretch's mortal agony in the all-concealing fume. Without for a moment pausing, Grenville plunged swiftly through the drifting envelope, to gain the brink at the rear. He caught up a rock as he stumbled half blindly onward, and blew on the fire of his brand. A thicker shroud of the reek revolved about him, halting him there to gasp for breath, which he stooped in the hope of finding. He dropped the stone as a useless burden. Once more he staggered onward--and blundered against a Dyak, more blinded than himself! The creature had scaled the wall despite the bamboo framework and its cups, or wooden bells! He and Sidney were instantly locked in a fierce and deadly embrace! A battle as silent as it was swift and ferocious was curtained there in the smoke. That the edge was near was a knowledge equally shared, as each man wrestled in desperate violence to overcome his antagonist and hurl him down to the sea. More by instinct than design, Grenville had paused to grip his firebrand hotly between his teeth. He had seen that the head-hunter held a knife, which was instantly turned, as the boatman writhed in Sidney's arms, in an effort to sink it to the hilt. Grenville, however, clutched the wiry wrist with all his might, and tried to fetch it upward for a quickly planned maneuver. It slipped from his grip, and together he and the native froze more savage than before. The Dyak once more attempted a stabbing pass, and Sidney again caught the sinewy hand, in a clutch that he knew must fail. The wrist left his impotent fingers like a snake. The whole arm writhed backward for the stroke. Sidney abruptly leaned forward, turning his head, and jabbed the red-hot firebrand against the Dyak's eye. With a shriek of pain the fellow lurched galvanically, to stab with demoniacal might. But the blow went wide, in his agony, and when Grenville had caught the wrist in a grip that a serpent could scarcely have broken, he instantly laid hold of it with his second hand, with a motion incredibly swift. Then turning his back with the skinny brown arm across his shoulder, and abruptly stooping forward, Sidney hoisted the scoundrel free from the rocks, on his shoulders, and, moving quickly towards the cliff, ended the fight then and there. He broke the arm thus used as a leverage against the Dyak's weight, and literally slammed the shuddering creature down on the rocks, at the brink of the wall, where he poised but a moment over death. If he tried to writhe backward to the solid ledge, the effort was belated. With a piercing scream he toppled over, flinging out his broken arm in a gesture grotesque and disordered. Then he suddenly grayed, in the limbo of smoke, and shot swiftly downward to his doom. Grenville still bit upon the branch that glowed with fire. He searched about pantingly, found his end of fuse, and saw the powder sputter with ignition. He had barely stepped back when, from over at the trail, came a sudden and tremendous detonation. That the Dyaks were there on the terrace, after all, destroying his bombs, was the one thought that flashed through the smoke in his brain, as his own sharp explosion shook the air and hollowed huge masses from the cliff. He stumbled and groped laboriously across the uneven heaps of stone to reach the secret passage, where Elaine must be crouching in fear. In his ears rang her words "If it has to come, let's receive it here together." Already he feared her one grim wish had been brutally denied her in this hideous pall of smoke. He saw a figure, dimly, through the reek, and crouched to take revenge. CHAPTER XXXVI THE LAST CUP OF WATER The figure was Elaine's. Grenville was almost upon her, prepared for some swift and terrible deed of retaliation, when a swirl in the shroud that enveloped them both revealed her standing near the edge. She still held a glowing fire-stick in her hand, as she peered through the billowing cloud of smoke where she had flung an ignited bomb. She had fled from her shelter, in desperate dread, lest a murderous fate overtake her companion, battling alone with the fiends. She had found his post deserted, and, having discerned two figures on the trail, had instantly obeyed an impulse to protect the hill with the only means provided. She uttered a cry as she saw Grenville crouching behind her, raising her brand like a weapon, then sinking in relief. "You!" he said. "Elaine! I might have known!" "I am sure they are coming up behind us there!" she answered. "I know I heard the bamboo buckets jangling! Have you been across to see?" "I fired the bomb," he answered. "Didn't you know?" She shook her head. Her ears, that had been so finely attuned to catch the warning from the rearward cliff, had received or recorded no impression whatsoever of the huger disturbance, while her own bomb's colossal thunder and shock engrossed her eager attention. "Was anyone there?" she asked, half choking with the reek. "I suppose you couldn't see." "I saw no one when lighting the fuse," he answered. "What was happening here?" She related what she had seen and what she had done. "I hope I killed them!" she added, weak and dizzy from the smoke. "But they probably ran away!" It was the first time she had entertained such a feeling. He urged her again to the shelter, where he coaxed her to drink, and bathe her face, for the freshening and soothing influence of which she was sadly in need. Returning, then, to the shelter for some of their fruit, he groped his way down along the trail--and found that one or the other of the bombs had so shattered the ledge, as to render it useless for passing till the gap could in some way be bridged. They were safe from invasion in the night--but they were, likewise, marooned on the hill! It was hardly likely the Dyaks would attempt to construct a platform across the yawning cavity, under the shadow of the gun, while, as for themselves, descent at present was entirely out of the question. Meantime the smoke was unabated, if it was not, indeed, more dense and choking than before. All the man's characteristic doggedness of purpose was required in preparations for the night. The sun was down; the brief and usually comforting twilight seemed entirely absent, as darkness was hastened by the fumes. Back and forth from the now deserted shelter to the passage Sidney groped time after time, fetching her couch and robe for Elaine, and their meager supplies for dinner. The gallery then became her boudoir, sanctified to her uses. Outside on the ledge, where at least a breath of air trailed upward from the cave beneath, to escape at the door and a little dilute the stifling smoke, he finally made his sentinel post to pass the long session of darkness. He was roused repeatedly in the night by the sheer discomfort of his resting-place, and the smoke that smarted his nostrils. All the long hours through the dull red flames glowed fitfully, down through the jungle. He was tempted, times without number, to throw out his platform to the tree and descend with a bomb, to hurl at some group of the demons, there in the nether gloom of the Hades they created. He curbed his impatience rigidly, however, and crowded the impulse back. That one or two natives at the most maintained the fires was a supposition not to be ignored. The possible results of such an enterprise were incommensurate with the risk that must be incurred. Despite his uneasiness of mind and body he slept for a time between midnight and dawn as the mere result of overstrain and the weariness accumulated for several days. For a brief time after sunrise the northerly breeze abated, permitting the smoke to ascend more nearly straight. The headland was thereby freed and sweetened, only, however, to be re-enveloped later, and, veiled from the other features of the island. Grenville took advantage of the respite to make an examination of the cliff at the rear of the camp. It had been so shattered, where the bomb shook down the disintegrated tufa, that its ascent would never again be attempted. The framework of bamboo cups was gone. There was nothing below to indicate whether or not a Dyak boat might have been swamped by falling rock. The cavity torn in the regular trail was rather more exaggerated than diminished by the morning's revelations. Grenville was certain the enemy would hardly hazard bridging the gap while they thought a single ounce of punishment remained upon the terrace. He was not altogether certain he should not construct a bridge himself, since only when they charged upon his position could he hope to decimate the blood-desiring savages, who must still remain in menacing numbers on the island. The little brass cannon was once more charged, though its use was hardly likely. The wind and the smoke resumed their steady flow across and about the hill before Elaine appeared. She was pale and plainly weary, when at length she emerged from the passage. Her sleep had been broken, and haunted by dreams of countless new atrocities committed by the demons below. Her courage was phenomenal. She made no complaint, but attempted a smile and a cheery outlook on the day. Grenville was wrung, more than comforted, at the wistful effort she was making to sustain her slender hope and encourage his own flagging spirit. When he found that hardly a pint of water remained in the jugs he had thought would supply them at least for a couple of days, his despair for Elaine became intensely acute, and his heart began dully to ache. Two of the clay receptacles had developed tiny cracks, perhaps from the jarring of explosions, while a third had toppled over and spilled its precious contents after having been placed in the passage. Percolation and usage had drained the others inevitably--and the day was beginning with heat and stifling reek. Much of the fruit that Sidney had gathered was now unfit for use, and was, therefore, thrown away. By way of conserving the water supply, they made a breakfast of paw-paws and bananas only, though the meat remaining from the previous day was still acceptable. Grenville descended to the cavern as soon as this scant and oversweet meal was concluded. He bore two jugs, to be filled from the basins in the rock. When the light from the blazing torch he held above his head dimly outlined but one of the pools he had seen on a former occasion, he realized that some insignificant fissure must have resulted from his blast, and permitted the other pools to trickle to the sea. He filled his jugs with the utmost care, scooping up the water at the deepest hole to leave all unclean sediment undisturbed. That the pool must soon succumb to evaporation was obvious. Vaguely he wondered which might last the longer, this underground well, or the breath in his body and Elaine's. Even the sight and touch of the precious water excited his mouth to thirst. With the jugs both full and set carefully aside, he sprawled out eagerly, flat on the rocks, for a deep and satisfying draught. Hardly had the water reached his palate, however, when he lifted his head with a sound like a stifled groan. The pool was connected with the tides--_the liquid there was brine_! He rose to his knees, with his fist before his eyes, his whole body tense and rigid with his soul's recoil from the visions abruptly shadowed in his mind. The cordon about the helpless girl was so hideously complete! It seemed like the bitterness of her doom that he tasted on his tongue. It appeared so useless now to struggle. How he should take this latest news to the uncomplaining comrade of his destiny was more than he could determine. Wild thoughts of offering all the treasure he had found, as ransom for Elaine at least, possessed his mind, as he conjured up the final, triumphant approach of the Dyaks, whom the two famished keepers of the terrace would at length be no longer able successfully to resist. He likewise thought of offering himself, could Elaine be finally spared. But through it all he was sickeningly conscious that neither course could avail with these treacherous fiends. A human head was more to them than treasures of earth or heaven. Moreover, the murderous savages had already paid a heavy toll, and would smart in their blood for revenge. There could be no bargain made with such an enemy, all but victorious already, and certain of final success. They should never find that treasure, however, Grenville swore, if he had to sink it in the sea! And as for a final triumph--there were many ways, in a last extremity, whereby at least the unspeakable horrors, certain to follow their capture alive, could be escaped by both himself and Elaine. Wild rage possessed him, kneeling there, as he thought of the merciless head-hunters smoking them out on the hill, and waiting as loathsomely as vultures for the slowly approaching end. Mad plans for sinking their anchored boats, for loading himself with torch and bombs, to charge like a Nemesis through their ranks, or for luring them up to some deadly mine, ranged erratically through his brain. He thought of attempting a condensation of sea water to provide Elaine with drink. He was swiftly possessed by a plan, even more absurd, of making a float with his bamboo stems, and sailing away with Elaine on board, under cover of the darkness. He arose at last, dizzy, with the vortex of impractical suggestions revolving in his mind. He emptied his jugs and strode to the mouth of the cavern, looking out on smoke and sea. The tide was low. Whole colonies of mussels clung there below him on the rocks. They were food! The thought came home to him swiftly--only to be immediately succeeded by the realization they were salt, and would make for greater thirst. He thought of the wail that had formerly haunted the island--a friendly, invaluable phenomenon that had not been repeated for days. He thought of the raft he had rowed with such ease when he came here to blow out the ledge. Was it floating still in the estuary's mouth, or had some of the Dyaks destroyed it? The estuary!--could he only reach its tepid pool, creep towards its source, fill one of his jugs, and return to gladden Elaine! His busy mind was instantly working on the various steps by which he might succeed in lashing together some sort of raft, for a night excursion to the tiny rill that fed the vine-surrounded inlet where the water was not brine. CHAPTER XXXVII A BREATHLESS MARGIN Grenville returned for his jugs and the torch, impatient to be employed. The clay receptacles were useless on the hill, but he carried them back to the gallery, to leave them on the floor. The lower rock-and-wattle barrier he carefully readjusted to its place, and secured with the bar of wood. "The water below is rather poor," he informed Elaine, when he once more rejoined her above. "I believe I can reach a supply considerably better by building a bamboo platform that will give me access to a larger and fresher pool." Elaine was thinking of another, more personal danger. "Do you think these creatures have visited the cave?" "If they have, they left no signs." "You are not afraid they may go there soon--and discover the end of this passage?" Grenville shook his head. "I only wish they would try--every man Jack of them hunting there at once! If it weren't for this smoke, I should try to lure them in!" Glad of an occupation, no matter how forlorn the hope it afforded, he went promptly to work fetching all of the largest bamboo stems from his generous supply, together with wood for fuel and many lengths of creeper. By the time these various transfers were complete, he had left but little of their meager possessions in or about the former camp. Bombs, fuses, torch-wood, and much of his extra powder he now proceeded to store along the wall, and in a niche of the gallery, where they should neither obstruct the passage under foot, nor yet be exposed to possible accident from necessary fire. The terrace continued to be wrapped in smoke, as on the previous day. Instructing Elaine to call him instantly, should any attempt be made by the Dyaks to bridge the gap on the trail, he now began the laborious task of carrying one after another of the bamboo stems down the passage to the cave. The stems were large, some of them fully six inches through at the butt, and while they were never heavy, yet the twelve or more feet of length to which he had reduced them made their transfer through the narrow and angular gallery an awkward and troublesome maneuver, with only a torch for light. He had made up his mind that six of these stems, lashed together in pairs, or even laid side by side, and slightly separated, would complete a float on which he could readily find sufficient buoyancy for himself and a couple of water jugs, more especially as he thoroughly intended to stretch himself out flat, full length, upon it while moving about the shore. He felt, moreover, it must be so light he could not only launch it from the cave, but even withdraw it inside again, should danger so require. Fortunately, he reflected, none of the stems was split. Each comprised a set of water-tight compartments that a load of double his avoirdupois could hardly sink beneath the surface. If he found that four of the lengths would answer as well as six, he would certainly use no more. As he stumbled and edged his way downward once again, with the last of his load colliding here and there along the wall, he thought, perhaps, it might be possible to test the float in the salty pool that remained in the basin of the cavern. Could this be done, much time would be saved, and no risk of being discovered at his work need be incurred. For his greater convenience in assembling materials and tools, he placed both his torch and final burden for a moment within the passage, when he came once more to the cave. Three of the bamboo stems were then in the cavern proper, while all of the creeper and the other essentials remained on the gallery floor. He paused to wipe his brow, for he was sweating. His mouth was dry with a growing thirst that refused to be forgotten. He had barely stepped out to survey the space for the likeliest site convenient to his needs, when, abruptly, a human voice sent a murmurous echo through the hollow tomb. A sharp command immediately followed--all in some barbaric tongue. But before the noise of something dully scraping on the outside ledge could add its confirmation to the somewhat belated alarm, Grenville was certain that a Dyak boat had come to the cavern, and its crew were about to land. Instantly pouncing upon the nearest length of his precious bamboo, he darted with it to the passage. The second stem struck on the inner wall, not only delaying his movements, but sounding a thud that he felt must be heard through all the vast bulk of the hill. Yet he dared not either betray the fact he had been in the cave, or lose that final pole. Once more, as he heard the Dyaks coming, and even beheld a shadow, preceding its owner to the place, he darted silently out at his door to lay hold of the last remaining stem. He was certain its end must be plainly seen, as the Dyaks now rose above the ledge. A sound that he made seemed incredibly loud--and his door was out where the boatmen's torch must play a red light upon it! He stumbled across his materials, now congesting his narrow space. He thrust out an arm, laid hold of his door, and had barely drawn it across the opening when the glare of the torch the Dyaks held sent red rays in upon him. Not another move could he make without betraying his presence near at hand. To adjust the barrier solidly in place might readily prove fatal. To leave it loose, a palpable sham where all should appear as solid wall, was scarcely less of a risk. Holding it firmly, lest it slip, and peering breathlessly out through the chink which it failed by an inch to cover, Grenville beheld three half-naked forms, incredibly magnified and diabolized not only by the torch they held, but also by the shadows they cast upon the rocks, and the general aspect of the region, black as Inferno. Three thinner, more furtive fiends of the nether abyss would have been hard, indeed, to imagine. In the tallest Sidney recognized the chief. As they turned about to scan the wall, and the breach he had made with his explosion, the whites of their eyes and the gleam of their teeth rendered all of their faces strangely hideous, with the yellowish glare projecting them indistinctly against the ebon of the tomb. That their keen, malicious eyes must instantly discover the wall's decided imperfection, where the gallery door was askew, seemed to Grenville inescapable. They motioned towards him, and down at the floor, in manifest wonder that the place was no longer filled with water. Their voices were low. They spoke as if with a certain awe in which the place was held. It seemed to Grenville they would never go about their business. His muscles ached with the unaccustomed strain put upon them to support the heavy door. How long he could stand there, making no sound, and permitting no movement of the barrier, was a question he could not answer. If only his cleaver had not been dropped around the bend, beside his torch, he would almost have dared spring out on the unsuspecting Dyaks to brain them where they stood! At thought of his torch, redly glowing, in beyond, he sweated anew, convinced that as soon as the boatmen grew accustomed to the darkness of the cavern, these torch rays must impinge upon their vision, and instantly divulge the secret of the passage to the top. One of the Dyaks now approached even closer than before. Savagely determined he would slay the man, should he raise a hand, or otherwise give the slightest intimation that the door was seen at last, Sidney grew hot in his farthest pulse, and became as tense as a tight-coiled spring as he steadied to leap from the place. But the man in command now grumbled another of his orders. The fellow so near discovery and death turned slowly about, made one more gesture towards the shattered ledge, and followed the other where they made their way across the uneven floor. Until they had passed to a second ridge, where their feet disturbed a few loose fragments that rattled down towards the base, Grenville made not the slightest move to alter his position. Then cautiously, without a sound, he adjusted the door to its proper place and secured it with the bar. He still had a chink through which to peer, but he first moved back to his blazing torch and smothered its light on the rocks. When he once more groped his way to the tiny opening, the Dyaks had come to the rifled chamber. He could hear their exclamations of disgust and anger, but only their torch could be seen. Aware they might still return to his wall and discover the one remaining retreat where Elaine was even remotely secure, Grenville was seized with an irresistible impulse to destroy the fiends on the instant, if such a denouement could be rendered possible. He turned about to grope his way upward and secure a bomb as swiftly as the darkness would permit. Over the basket of treasure, some time since deposited there by the wall, he blundered, and fell to his knees. The thing was in the way. He took it up impatiently and carried it well up the passage to one of the broadest galleries, where he placed it again on the floor. With one of the smallest of his bombs, and carrying one of his firebrands only for a torch, he once more descended, feeling his way along the wall, eager to regain the lower entrance, lest it might be already discovered. He had been delayed in securing the brand, without which his bomb was useless. He had told Elaine his measures were only of defense. They were hardly even that. When he came to the door he could see no torch, for the Dyaks had gone, in new exasperation, and their voices echoed back from the ledge. The impulse to rush out thus belatedly, ignite his fuse, and hurl his engine of destruction upon them, or their boat, was one he curbed with difficulty, at the dictates of sober sense. For a dozen reasons the maneuver might fail to destroy the murderous trio. And should one escape to advertise the fact he was somehow concealed in the cavern, no possible cleverness could avail to protect Elaine or himself. Should a larger number come to the cave---- But he knew it was hardly likely, now, that even a few would return. If the Dyaks had, as he felt convinced, concluded that the open niche meant that the tomb had been pillaged, that the treasure was gone, either taken by himself or another, they would have no conceivable reason left for courting disaster here again. For unless they should dare approach the place by night, it was only under cover of the rolling smoke they would risk attack from above. He even thought of hastening back to the terrace now to drop a bomb upon them. It was only a recollection of the all-engulfing smoke that halted this intent. Instead he dislodged the wooden bar, removed the door to his secret gallery, and crept out to glide to the breach in the ledge for a possible view of the boatmen. Only the disappearing end of their craft was shown through the fumes that veiled the tide. It was Grenville's useful catamaran, as he instantly discerned. A new resentment burned in his blood, but left him as helpless as before. CHAPTER XXXVIII GRENVILLE'S DESPERATE CHANCE At noon Elaine reluctantly consumed the last remaining drop of water. Grenville had taken a sip, and pretended to take a swallow. To refuse it longer, Elaine quite clearly comprehended, would be but to see it ooze away through the jar, to be drunk by the merciless heat. "I shall get a new supply," said Sidney, attempting an accent of cheer, "but I'd rather avoid using that of the cavern, for fear it may not be wholesome." Elaine, in her way of divining the truth, was only partially deceived. She felt that the water below in the cave was wholly unfit for consumption. She knew that if anything even remotely possible could be done to refill their vessels, Sidney would have filled them long before. She made no discouraging comments, however, despite the fact her hope was succumbing to despair. The smoke continued to roll in sullen clouds across and about the terrace; the sun beat down through it redly, soaking the rock in caloric, that sank to the gallery itself. The noonday meal had been slight and unrefreshing--a bit of fruit, too warm and too ripe for relish on the palate, and a few odd scraps of the meat. It was water that both insistently craved, and for which they grew fevered and distressed. The smoldering brands in the furnace of rocks could not be permitted to die away in ash. Elaine had undertaken the maintenance of this, their altar spark, which rarely rose to a flame. She was safe enough to come and go from the passage entrance to the nearby furnace Grenville had moved to facilitate her duties, but the smoke seemed far more stifling and hot than it had the previous day, while, with headache, thirst, and a heaviness in all her weary being, the endlessly cheerful and courageous little companion of Grenville's maddening ordeal felt ready to drop and rise no more. Again at his task of constructing a float that should bear him from the cavern to the inlet formed by the spring, Sidney toiled with no mercy to himself in the workshop far down in the rocks. He felt at times he must gulp down even the water of the sea, so parched was his throat, and so craving was his system. At five o'clock his bamboo raft was completed, even with braces for his jugs. It had also been tried in the basin of the cave, and made finally ready for launching. But the tide would be low till eight. His blast had made the water more approachable than formerly, yet to fight his way against a powerful current would over-tax his strength. In any event he must wait for the darkness of night. He returned to Elaine, and although he, too, was weary to the bone, her patient endurance of suspense and suffering aroused him to a state of anguish in which no exhausting task would have seemed too great for him to undertake. He was wrung by her wistful attempt at a smile. "The day is nearly done," she said. "The night is sure to be cooler." It was considerably cooler, but scarcely more fresh, since the smoke appeared to pour in even vaster volumes from the greenery below. That the Dyaks were keeping strict watch on the water supply there could be no reason to doubt. From time to time a weird bit of chanting arose from that fume-creating garden that had once been so fair as to win from Elaine the prettiest name she knew. Grenville felt certain, in fact, the boatmen's camp had been made about the inlet or the spring. The short stretch of beach where he and Elaine had landed, and where he had later made a bower of the trees, would be certain to attract these half-amphibious savages, though their boats were moored behind the opposite hill. For a time he wondered if he might not be more wise to pass entirely around the island, to approach the pool of fresh water from below. But reflecting that various currents of the tide would buffet and beset him, in addition to which he must run the gauntlet past the Dyak boats, he surrendered the suggestion without delay, and impatiently awaited the tide. Three times he went down the passage, torch in hand, to examine the stages of the water. At length he bethought him of two short scoop-like paddles, to assist in propelling his craft, and feverishly set about their construction. They were done in less than half an hour, since they consisted merely of two half-sections of bamboo cylinder, lashed to a pair of handles. Elaine was aware he was making ready for more than an ordinary adventure, as she watched him with her wide and lustrous eyes. "Perhaps relief may come to-morrow," she finally observed. "You are quite exhausted. Might you not be wiser to rest to-night? We can get along, I am sure." But even her voice made a rasp in her throat, so distressed was her system for water. "I need a bit of change," he said. "It is certain to do me good." With a touch of his former brusqueness, he presently bade her seek her couch, during the time he expected to be gone, and vanished once more down the dark, steep passageway, with his paddles and torch in hand. The torch was left in the gallery, extinguished. The concealing door was adjusted to its place. These were mere precautions against the cave's discovery, yet Grenville was certain no Dyaks would approach the place that night. His two best jugs were placed on the ledge; his cleaver was hung at his belt. He could take no bombs or lighted brands on such an expedition. The task of launching his raft on the tide involved unexpected labor. Its lightness made it an easy prey to the swirl that always filled the cavern's walled approach. It was sucked once nearly under, its farther end disappearing entirely from view--and Granville withdrew it, desperately glad the jugs had not been placed upon it. Awaiting a quieter mood of the whirlpool, half seen in the darkness, he launched the float again, and beheld it rest there, quietly, nosing against the ledge. He turned for the jugs, but, casting a quick glance backward, at the slightest of scraping sounds, saw the raft swinging outward from his reach. His arm was too short for its recovery. Leaping wildly out in the water, he caught it again, and was washed against the jagged wall before he once more returned it to the landing. He was soaked to the skin, but his pulses throbbed with heat and dogged energy that would think of no defeat. With his jugs finally laid flat between the bamboo supporters, front and rear, and with paddles in hand, as he lay at full length on the light but half-submerged platform, he rowed the raft out with a motion as if he were swimming. Indeed, like a giant oar-bug, more or less helplessly carried by the current that it rides, he spun slowly about in the maelstrom of the gathering tide before he could escape past the portal and head for the inlet below. He soon discovered that to continue far in this fatiguing attitude would abominably strain his neck, if not his entire body. Not without considerable difficulty, in balancing the craft, he effected a change of position, and knelt upon the supports. The waves washed up about his knees and feet, but of this he was practically oblivious. Assisted now by the current, and with eyes intent on the darkened shore, beyond the uprise of the cliff, he propelled himself much farther out than formerly, with the purpose of avoiding the possible vigilance of Dyaks on the beach. The night was not exceedingly dark, so brilliant was the light from the stars. Once the region of smoke was left behind, the blurred and blended features of the island were sufficiently well revealed for his purposes, since he knew its every silhouette as well as the contours of the coast. He had rowed and drifted, perhaps, half the distance essential to land at the estuary mouth, when the sound of voices, floated out from the shore, abruptly halted his movements. The Dyaks were there. Either motion or any unusual disturbance would suffice to betray his presence off the land. And now, as if every fate had become malignant, the current drifted him inward, where he knew he should keep well away. At the risk of exciting curiosity, if nothing more, he dipped his paddles, with a slow and silent expenditure of strength, and swept the float powerfully outward again, till the shore seemed a part with the sea. For a time that seemed interminable he hung about that outer stretch, awaiting a further sound of the voices. They did not come. Once more at last he paddled silently inward, finally worming, as before, to a prostrate position on the raft. The chant of the head-hunters came again, as if from the depths of the jungle. "Now, if ever!" muttered Grenville, half aloud, and impelled by a new and reckless desperation, increased by his thirst and his impotent rage at the creatures still feeding the fumes that Elaine could not avoid, he sent his craft swiftly landward, thankful, at least, for the mild disturbance of breaking ripples on the shore that would drown what slight noises he might make. Tempted to moor his float outside the estuary, he readily agreed it might thereby lead to his discovery, and must, as a matter of fact, be completely concealed in the shadows of the pool. Excited now by the possibility that his catamaran, with the oars and rowlocks, might still remain in its former harbor, he was doomed to prompt disappointment on gaining the estuary basin. There was nothing whatsoever in the place. His jugs and paddles he had placed upon the sand. It was only the work of a moment to draw his float across the bar and gently thrust it away from sight beneath the overhanging verdure. Then he stood there, knee-deep in the water, straining his ears for the slightest sound of the Dyaks stirring in the thicket. Only the drone of a halting voice was wafted to the place. In silence he concealed his paddles, and took up his jugs, to wade with the utmost caution up the pool, towards the spring that formed its source. The water about him was brackish, from its mixture with the tide. Deeper and deeper grew the basin. The water had risen to his waist. He sank in steadily with every step, despairing now with the sickening thought he might be compelled to swim. Such a task, with two filled jugs, would be impossible, as he bitterly realized. But on he went, as noiselessly as before. The water was now about his breast, and he held his jugs above it. Something gently nosed against him--and gave him a start. Thoughts of the tropic serpents so frequently inhabiting the water, chilled a thin channel down his spine. Then he saw that the thing which might have been a reptile head was the cork and neck of a bottle. He dipped down and caught it between his teeth, more gratified in all his being than if it had been a thing of gold. It almost seemed to the man like a sign that the tide of ill-fortune had turned--the tide of luck. He had certainly passed the deepest section of the estuary; he was rising on higher ground. To avoid the soundings of dripping water, ready to fall from his clothing, he proceeded more slowly than before. When at length he came to a strip of barren sand, he rested his jugs, withdrew the cork from his bottle, and was gratified to detect the odor of stale beer, or stout, which the thing had formerly contained. He rinsed it then and there, to make it sweet, and crowded it into his pocket. When he once more took up his jugs, to resume his quest of drinkable fluid, he was presently confronted by an exceptional tangle of the shrubbery, arching the tortuous windings of the estuary's head. Here he found himself obliged to pause and noiselessly bend back or break a number of the slender branches before he could wade as before. He started some small nocturnal animal out through the growth, and the rustling disturbance made by the beast was heard by the Dyaks beyond. One of them called out sharply. To Grenville's complete astonishment and dismay another man, barely a few yards off, replied with a species of grunt. The fellow had come there, either to visit or to set a snare, and must have believed he had frightened the animal himself. Sidney could hear him working now, as he leaned a bit closer to the foliage, incapable of moving further while the hunter delayed in the thicket. The fellow presently arose, as if to go. Instead, however, he approached even closer to Grenville's place of concealment, and Sidney oozed cold perspiration, helplessly occupied, as he was, with a jug in either hand, and his cleaver still swung at his waist. To have moved, or attempted to place either jug in the water at his feet, must have been fatal to his mission. Yet he felt convinced the Dyak must fairly run against him, unless he could move to the side. One of his shoes, moreover, was sinking deeply in slimy mire. That his balance must be overcome seemed well-nigh inevitable. A branch from one of the larger trees that grew above him on the bank now swept so forcibly against the other foliage as the Dyak hauled it downward, to sever a twig for his trap, that Grenville's face was lightly brushed. When the limb sprang upward a moment later, he pulled his foot from the hole. It seemed to the man a quarter of an hour at least that the trapper remained there, a few feet away, making one more sound, from time to time, when it seemed at last he must have departed. When he finally went, there could be no assurance he would not return again. Notwithstanding this possibility, Grenville slipped furtively along once more, disturbed to find how far towards the spring this narrowing, sea-level neck of the inlet continued through the growth. When he came at length to a rise of the island, down which the trickle from the spring had made its course, he found himself at the edge of a small, grass-grown clearing, that could hardly be more than a stone's toss away from the Dyaks' temporary camp. A small, deep basin, filled with the precious water he sought, reflected a star at the zenith of the heavens. It some way gave him hope. Of courage he had no lack. Noiselessly, but without hesitation, he crept forward to the place and bent to drink, then to fill his bottle and jugs. At a snap that came from the shadows beyond he looked up alertly, beholding through the leaves a bright bit of fire upon the earth, with two of the Dyaks at its side. Every accent of their halting conversation came clearly to his ears. With his three receptacles filled at last, he began his retreat from the place. He had barely vanished from the clearing, and come to the cover of the growth once more, when the man who was laying the snare in some pathway of the small jungle animals came back to complete his work. Grenville thought his arms must relinquish the holds in their sockets before the unsuspecting hunter was content to leave the neighborhood. The jugs, so long and silently held, were rested a moment on the bank, when, at last, the moment did arrive when Sidney could dare retreat. Then down through the stubborn tangle, once more, he moved like a silent shade. With every yard thus placed between himself and the natives by the spring, the hope in his breast increased. He came once more to the deeper estuary pool and, lifting his jugs to his shoulders, waded cautiously forward, nearly up to his throat in the tepid brine that smelled too rank for anything but swamp. He paused by his raft, for a moment undecided as to whether he should place his jugs in the braces lashed upon it, before he pushed it past the bar, or after it should float on the tides. While he stood there, with a sense of exultation daring to warm in his soul--an exultation centered on Elaine and the joy it must presently be to see her thirst allayed--he suddenly stiffened at the sound of Dyak voices, alarmingly near at hand. Retreating instantly, under the shadow of the foliage and against the end of his raft, he placed one jug upon it, noiselessly, and put out his hand to grasp at a branch to draw himself further from sight. But the branch on which he laid his grip was suddenly alive. It writhed and lashed sharply at his knuckles until, with a shudder of comprehension that he had clutched the tail of a snake, he flung it off and knew it had glided away. He had no choice but to try again, and this time met with better fortune. Out through the foliage, arranged thus hurriedly about him, he peered towards the low bit of beach. There was no one in sight, but beyond, on the sea, suddenly looming before him, and coming about to face the protected inlet, a third of the Dyak sailing-boats, a new arrival, manned by an additional group of head-hunters, nosed gracefully up against the tide. Her anchor was cast, and there she rode, not twenty yards out from the shore. Like shadowy demons from some world beyond, arrived on some mission mysterious and tragic--some service of the foulest fiend in Hades--four half-seen figures moved along the railing of the craft, destroying the hope in Grenville's bosom. CHAPTER XXXIX ADDITIONAL HEAD-HUNTERS The boatmen thus newly arrived off the estuary's mouth were proceeding in a leisurely and confident manner to make themselves and their vessel snug for the night, and Grenville had placed his second jug upon his raft when, without a sound having come to announce their movements, two or three Dyaks from the camp in the growth called some greeting or challenge from the shore. That their words were interpreted in a friendly spirit by the shadowy natives on the anchored boat seemed to Grenville entirely obvious. There was something akin to cheer in the voices that replied across the water. Every man was seen to halt at his work and come to the shoreward side of the craft, to peer through the darkness towards the beach. Three of the fiends with whom he had waged unequal battle now appeared on the sand strip a rod from where Sidney was standing. Their backs were presented as they called and gestured to the men beyond, and Grenville identified the chief once more by the fellow's unusual height. Apparently an argument ensued, conducted, as to the shoreward end, by the tall and dominant leader. He waved quick, eloquent gestures, frequently towards the headland whence Grenville had come. That some report of recent proceedings was being thus delivered there could be no reasonable doubt. Expressions of astonishment, satisfaction, and a diabolical glee came back in guttural staccatos from the blood-loving creatures on the vessel. Grenville almost forgot where he was, and why, such indignation burned in his breast as he grasped at the substance of the conference thus held across the tide. Four more head-hunters, come to swell the already heavily outnumbering forces of the island, was too much for Heaven to permit! Against such odds and such diabolism, what possible chance---- He smiled in a grim, sardonic manner at the thought that a fight between himself and the now augmented Dyaks would ever again be likely, with this boat anchored here before him, Dyaks camping in the jungle, and no trail left by which he could reach the terrace and Elaine, even could he creep away in the shadows and silence of the thicket. It appeared to him now that the chief on shore was becoming impatient, or angry. He shouted orders and waved his hand down the length of the island in a style growing rapidly more and more imperative, while the new arrivals answered back in a stubborn and sullen dissatisfaction that Sidney began to hope might lead to open rupture. Should one of the factions war against the other, he would think these four boatmen a Godsend. Even then, he reflected, the situation, as bearing on himself, might present no altered aspect till all was decidedly too late. Should he fail to return to Elaine with water to-night--she would doubtless never see his face again. Should morning still find him hiding here--their fates would have a sudden termination. And now, with this craft at anchor in the current, so close inshore, there could be no chance to escape around it unobserved, what possible alternative was offered but to stand here, nearly to his waist in the water, aware that the deadliest sort of snakes might be coiled within a foot of his hand? One of the Dyaks a rod away now sat upon the sand. The colloquy continued. The domineering leader, waxing more and more imperious, made gestures now in both directions. That what he imparted and declared was again concerned with himself and Elaine, Grenville could not fail to understand. He was puzzled, however, to determine the reason for this lengthy contest of words. It occurred to his mind the dispute might have sprung from rival claims as to sharing the trophies, when, at last, the defenders of the terrace should no longer require their heads. The ghastliness of the suggestion did not greatly disturb him; he was too far dulled and wearied by things already undergone. When it seemed at last as if the verbal combat might result in a deadlier feud, the matter between the land and water factions was suddenly adjusted with accents amazingly mild from either side. Considerably to Grenville's astonishment, the boatmen heaved up their anchor, eased off their sail, and put about towards the farther end of the island. The three men ashore called out additional instructions, presumably, and followed for a distance down the shore. The boat was presently gone from Sidney's view. He did not stir, though he ached in every bone and muscle, from his long, hard session of suffering and toil, and this cramp and strain of hiding. He was well aware that even the Dyaks would soon be obliged, either to retrace their steps and return as they had come, or force a way up through the jungle to cross to the island's farther side. That the vessel would join the others, already at anchor behind the second hill, he had finally comprehended with a wildness of hope his heart could scarcely contain. The chief had undoubtedly ordered the craft away from this particular anchorage lest it be too readily seen. With barely a grunt or two of conversation between them, the trio seen before him on the sand now presently returned. They stood about the estuary inlet for a moment, as if debating some second affair of importance, then finally glided away. Even then Grenville stirred with silent caution, waiting with heartbeats once more quickened lest he move too soon, and be discovered after all. The place, however, was deserted. Stiffly, but none the less eagerly, and alert for the slightest alarm, he coaxed his raft from the overhanging shrubbery, urged it gently out across the bar, and, hurriedly lashing his jugs to the braces provided, pushed away and headed far out in the tide. The current had turned. It was flowing strongly towards the cliff, in a certain impetuous manner that was far from being assuring. For while, in a measure, it assisted Grenville's float, it swirled and battled with other counter currents, into which he was helplessly carried. His frail, narrow raft was not infrequently threatened with disaster. Twice, for a second, he well-nigh despaired of righting before he should sink or plunge end downward, capsizing himself and his jugs. He was shot far outward from his course by one of the treacherous torrents of tide, then rocketed straight for the rocks of the cliff by another. His paddles were wholly inadequate for such a struggle; his arms refused the demands that his will insistently made upon them. It seemed as if he must break at some vital center of his being before he at length was enabled to avoid a collision with the cliff. Then he sank exhausted, obliged for a moment to pause and rest, when the tide once more drifted him outward. Before he could rouse his flagging sinews to another effort, he had floated by the cave. He was prodded to new desperation. The struggle he waged to regain that rocky niche--only to have the whirlpool cast him to the outside current as before, with his raft entirely submerged---was enough to break his heart. Nothing save the thought of Elaine could have availed to spur him yet once more to fighting vigor. He did fight again, till it seemed he must topple like a man of lead, and sink almost gladly in the sea, with a sense of welcome to its endless peace. A weak and staggering figure he presented when the landing was finally achieved. He barely pulled his raft within the cavern. He had no strength left to conceal it in the passage. Hugging his two heavy jugs of precious liquid, and also with the bottle weighing down his pocket, he groped and stumbled slowly up the gallery, pausing with ever increasing frequency to lean against the walls and recuperate his strength. Elaine was aroused from a state of lethargy, where she watched and listened at the upper door, by sounds that for a moment filled her with alarm. That some noisily breathing animal was making its way up the passage from the sea was her first half-waking impression. With a cry of relief and worry blended, she immediately understood. It was Grenville's labored panting she had heard, where he would not call for assistance for fear she should be alarmed. She caught up the torch she had kept so faithfully alight for his guidance, and ran hastily down to give him welcome. He was leaning against the wall once more, his mouth a little open for the air his lungs demanded, his face drawn and white with his utter weakness and exhaustion. In one keen glance Elaine comprehended his condition. "Sidney!" she cried. "Oh! but why did you go? Why would you work so hard to-night?" He could conjure no smile to his lips. "I love you, Elaine," he answered. "It kills me to see you suffer." "Oh please--please don't," she begged him. Her eyes were brimming with tears. He sank on the floor of the passage as he tried once more to raise the jugs. And yet, when Elaine pounced eagerly upon the bottle full of water, and pressed it to his lips, his stubborn resistance was once more reasserted. He accepted a few sips only, then thrust it firmly away. "That last little pull was steeper than I thought," he admitted, as he forced himself to rise and set his jugs more carefully in the rocks against the wall. "If you will oblige me by taking a drink of water----" "Not now," Elaine interrupted, as self-denying as before. "I am not the least bit thirsty. If you'll only rest--if you'll go to sleep----" "I shall go to no rest till you have taken a cup of water." She knew he would not. She drank from the bottle, perhaps three ordinary swallows of the liquid, like nectar to her palate. "Good-night," he said, with a touch of his old-time brusqueness, and, adding nothing more, he continued on to the barrier and out to his post of duty. There he sank on a rock before the door to guard Elaine from harm. Elaine, softly crying, went back at last to her couch. And some time, deep in the silence of the night, she awoke sufficiently to creep to the door, where she listened to Grenville, deeply sleeping. CHAPTER XL PLOT AND COUNTER PLOT The smoke that for two forbidding days had veiled and grayed the headland, continued to drift from the jungle, when Grenville roused from his slumber. He was much refreshed, yet had not entirely recuperated the strength so drained in the night. The aspect of the barren rock, engulfed in the fumes, was only what he had expected. He felt convinced that, like the mistral of the Riviera, this wind would continue for three full days at least. And the Dyaks were hardly likely to permit an abatement of the smoke while it brought no discomfort to themselves. Apparently they had made no effort to bridge the gap that rendered the trail completely useless. It was clear to Sidney's mind, however, that so soon as they believed the adventure safe, they would swarm upon the terrace, if for nothing else, then in search of heads and the treasure. With the possible development of an earlier plan in his mind, he crossed at once to his cannon, loaded and primed in its bed, and began to adjust a lot of loose stones above and upon it, to hide it completely from view. The fuse he drew, meantime, aside, where he meant to splice another length to its end. Elaine came out from the narrow confines of her gallery in the hope of lending assistance. She was wearing the tiger's jeweled collar about her slender waist. "I'm hiding the gun--masking our battery," Sidney informed her, quietly. "Its muzzle is still unobstructed and pointed as before. In case it seems wise to permit the Dyaks to climb up at last and look about, I prefer they shouldn't steal our thunder." If he noted the golden girdle, he made no unusual sign. Elaine was considerably puzzled. "But--why should we let them come?" "To convince them their prisoners have flown. It may give us a chance to punish them harder, later on." "If a steamer would only come!" she said, turning vainly to the sea, still shrouded from view. "Even a Chinese junk! Anything, almost, but more of these horrible fiends!" "You see," continued Grenville, "I can make an imitation cannon, from one of my bamboo lengths, and leave it here to fool them. They may be led to think it the only gun we've had, and search no farther for our ordnance. The smoke is likely to lift, I think, which is why I'm at work before breakfast." He did not complete the arrangements of his ruse before they broke their fast, however, since the making of an imitation cannon required at least an hour. The last of their meat, save a little intended for fishing-bait, was consumed with the insignificant remnants of their fruit supply, and Grenville took time to catch one silvery fish from the ledge in front of the cavern, as well as to gather a lot of the mussels, for luncheon and dinner, before he returned to the terrace. Already the breeze was failing. There were streaks of highly acceptable air interspersed with the billows of smoke. Not without a certain impatience to have this business concluded before the veiling fumes should leave the terrace entirely exposed to the penetrative sight of the Dyaks, Grenville hastened the construction of his imitation gun, to be left by the heap of stones. That a more convincing appearance of over-use might assist in creating the desired impression, he selected one of the bamboo sections already badly split. This he readily blackened by burning a handful of powder, loosely, inside its muzzle. With a rude vent cut and similarly treated, the affair was ready to be bound with discarded creepers, then lodged in the rocks above the genuine bit of artillery still ready for grim engagements. All that remained of the powder in his cave was carefully moved to the passage, there to be most cautiously deposited, away from all possible fire, along with his coils of fuse. Somewhat to his disappointment, the northerly breeze seemed once more freshening as the morning hours advanced. He had hoped not only for a lifting of the smoke, but likewise to find the Dyaks' boat once more encircling the headland. Beyond transferring his water supply from the jugs to a number of bamboo buckets, which permitted no waste by percolation, he had nothing further to employ his time as the day wore slowly on. The heat in the meantime was intolerable. The fish was roasted in an "oven" he fashioned of the heat-retaining tufa. The mussels were likewise "steamed" in their own exuding juices, occupying the large and basin-like sea-shell for the purpose. It was not until nearly four in the afternoon that the wind definitely veered. Grenville had noted the coming alteration that would clear the hill of fumes in time to make all essential preparations for the Dyak watchfulness. His furnace of fire was duly banked, to continue a smoldering glow among the ashes without producing smoke. Elaine had retired within the passage, and the entrance door to this secret hiding-place was adjusted against the rock. Grenville remained upon the terrace. No less a degree of vigilance than that previously exercised was, he felt, highly essential. Concealed in the caves or rocks comprised by the former camp he could not only guard against surprise by a bridging of the ruined trail, but his view of the sea, that might once more be haunted by the Dyak craft, was practicably without limit. Apparently the Dyaks, too, had been aware the breeze would serve them no longer. The smudges in the jungle were extinguished. In a time comparatively brief, after the shifting of the wind, no smoke at all was visible. But during the final hour preceding sunset another phase of fiendish ingenuity developed. The Dyaks began shooting arrows of fire all about on the summit of the terrace. They were shafts made highly inflammable by means of resin and pitch. Their flight through the air was not sufficiently violent to extinguish their glowing ends. If they did not blaze upon alighting on the rocks, they still retained sufficient heat and redness to ignite a pan of powder. It was this that occurred to Grenville as he made up his mind that some genius of diabolism among the new arrivals was doubtless responsible for this effort to explode his magazine. His satisfaction with himself for his foresight in storing his powder anew was his one real joy of the day. He wondered how long this business might continue, and how many of the enemy must now be reckoned with. As a matter of fact, with the four who had come under cover of the night, there were nine unscathed by previous engagements. Also, it was, as Grenville had suspected, one of the latest comers who had counseled the use of burning arrows. Since the terrace defenders were employing some dreaded explosive, the one course readily suggested was to reach his supply with a brand of fire--and, perhaps, thereby destroy its maker. In any event, deprived of this one deadly means of defense, the whites could be readily slaughtered. Already the Dyaks had built a bridge, to be used, when the time should at last arrive, for spanning that gap on the trail. It was not impossible, many had urged, that the prisoners lodged on the headland's summit were already either dead or dying. How they had managed to survive so long, with no supply of water, was sufficiently mysterious. Should they still be found alive another day--all the greater the joy of bringing about the end! The Dyak plan for reaching the magazine had been too hastily concocted. The supply of tarred and resined arrows was decidedly insufficient. Less than a score had been sent to the top of the terrace when the last was speeded on its way. But during the short remaining hour of daylight, and even by firelight, after dark, the shafts accumulated swiftly, against the coming of the dawn. Meantime to Grenville had come an inspiration. His one clear hope for the morning was that more of the arrows might be shot from below to make his plans complete. If the Dyaks were busy after dark, they could scarcely have matched the fever with which he likewise toiled. Down to the cool, dry chamber of the cavern he had carried no less than eight of his largest bombs, with coil upon coil of his fuse. Two mines of four bombs each he planted, concealing all with rocks. From each of the mines one fuse only was laid, to the inner angle of the passage. Each bomb had a shorter bit of fuse thrust in a handful of powder, to which the two main fuses led. The lines were carefully protected, not only against discovery, but as well against himself, or his boots, as he tramped back and forth from the cave. When this arrangement had been made complete, he could do no more in that direction till his favorable hour should arrive. His next attention was directed to his bamboo float, which had been practically dismembered. He had utilized the heavy stems to construct a long and narrow platform, with two rude hooks lashed on the end to engage a rung of his ladder. This ladder he not only lowered down from the wall to a position in front of the cavern's opening, securing its end with more than ordinary caution among the rocks he piled upon it, but also he had tested the length, and every rung, by extending his platform across from the ledge and climbing from the sea to the terrace. It was midnight before his final preparation was complete. This had been simply arranged. He had carried a canister of powder to the outside rocks, considerably back of Elaine's former shelter, together with two small bombs. The powder he laid in a six-foot ring, or spiral, that narrowed towards the center, merely to provide a lasting and widespread flash when at length it should be ignited. The bombs were placed near by, simply laid in a cave of no considerable dimensions. Their fuses were trailed across the rocks to a place of observation, and were opened out in such a manner as to fire both the spiral and the noisy but harmless explosives. Despite his nervous tension and the worry occasioned in his mind, lest, the Dyaks fail of their allotted part, Grenville finally slept as soundly as a boy, when at length he could work no more. But Elaine, strangely tingling with apprehension, concerned with the part that she must likewise play to render his plans effective, had not Sidney's weariness to overcome her nerves, and therefore rested badly. For long she lay there, listening, as always, to the silence enfolding the island, thinking how fair it had really been when the wail alone had been with them, and wondering, eagerly wondering, if by chance her companion of the hours both bright and dark had noticed the girdle she was wearing. CHAPTER XLI A LIVING BAIT The morning dawned in beauty, a few clouds riding with thistle-down lightness athwart the illimitable dome of blue, as intense as that of the sea. A light breeze stirred in the jungle, to wander aimlessly from one deep chalice of fragrance to another, before it trailed across the hill. Sea tang arose from the restless tide, that washed at the cliff incessantly. As far as sight could pursue the richness of its causeway, the sun laid gold in glittering mosaic across the tropic ocean. Never had the sparkling waves seemed brighter, the world more promising, as Elaine peered forth through her chink in the door, awaiting--God only knew what. She had never been more excited, and rarely more alarmed. The unknown element in Grenville's plans kept her nerves at the highest tension. They had eaten a breakfast solely of fish before the light of daybreak. Grenville had carefully closed the passage barrier, and crept out upon the terrace. On no account must she open the door, or call him, to her side. She must wait, and not even expect to hear a report of what was occurring. The longest cord she had ever helped to braid was lightly secured to her arm. Its farther end was tied in the rocks at the lower exit of the passage. Until she should feel his tug upon this signal line, she could only imagine that Sidney was near, or, perhaps, was climbing down his ladder. She dreaded the thought of that ladder, so frailly depending above the rocks and water, not to mention all its use might mean when the time for the signal should arrive. And she might be obliged to wait all day, as Sidney had warned her, duly--all day, while the wildest, the most tormenting of conjectures would leisurely elaborate themselves in her brain to convince her that Sidney was no more. Should he fall from the cliff, should he chance to underestimate the Dyaks' treacherous activities--should any one of a dozen possible calamities occur--how long must she wait till she knew? Meantime Grenville was barely less keyed to excited expectancy than Elaine in her prison-like retreat. Times without number he goaded his mind to review once more the inventory of his scheme, where the lack of one small detail might prove his entire undoing. Yet, after all, there were a few links only in the chain, though each was vitally important. He counted them over carefully--the signs or proof of calamity, here on the hill, to convince the head-hunting demons his magazine was gone, and with it all possible defense; the ladder and platform down below, whereby he could reach the cave; the bombs for the climax, should his hope succeed; and fire for their certain ignition. He had taken a double precaution to provide himself with fire. Down in the passage several brands were smoldering slowly in their ashes, while others did the same on the hill. He could think of nothing lacking--not even the cord to warn Elaine to open her door and flee outside when at length he should give her the signal! But as if in mockery of all this careful business, the day began with never a sign from the jungle. The Dyaks, he feared, had altered their plan, and might shoot no more of their arrows. He could not have known they were waiting for the breeze to freshen and fill a certain sail. One of their boats had been prepared and manned to police the headland as before. When Grenville at length beheld it, gracefully sharp and picturesque, as it rounded towards the master cliff, he was filled with conflicting emotions. He had wished for this, precisely, but not without the rest. The arrows first, had been his hope, and then this silent vulture, atilt in the purple tides. The arrows presently arrived. He was still engaged in watching the movements of the boat, in an effort to count the crew, when the first of the flaming messengers struck dully against a bowlder and lay there, fiercely blazing. Then the sudden flight, which, against an inky background, must have presented an extraordinary spectacle, afforded a sight strange enough, as Grenville presently conceded. The pitch and resin with which the shafts were tipped, burned with a black and heavy smoke, that trailed in their wakes like nebulous tails of cloud-producing comets. There were some of the flames that the flight only served to fan to fiercer heat and color. Like a candle sputtering in a draught they sounded as they flew. Others that lost their yellow blaze smoked the more blackly in the air. In half a dozen different spots the hotly burning lengths of wood were soon consuming bits of scattered leaves and grass, one almost at Grenville's feet. He was soon convinced that, should this rain of fire be long continued, he should have no need to fire his bombs and spiral. The arrows would actually accomplish the mission for which they were intended. He had no wish for a premature climax to the singular attack, but rather hoped to create the impression he was fighting desperately to protect his magazine. When a heap of waste and useless creepers was presently ignited, he ran from his place and promptly beat it out. He wished he might be seen. He was gratified without delay. The rifleman, posted, as on previous occasions, in the rocks that crowned the second hill, promptly discharged his erratic weapon, and nearly killed one of his kind. Grenville ran as if to cover. A shout of exultation came from below. A larger and swifter flight of the blazing shafts immediately ensued. Sidney now cast a glance about for the ship that was cruising by the headland. Somewhat to his disappointment it had gone about as if to return to the west, from which the cave, his platform, and ladder could not, of course, be seen. He fancied, however, it had come up in stays at the sound of the shot on the hill. It certainly appeared to be paying off to continue about the headland. He dared not longer delay. The arrows were blazing all about him. He feared at last that one lucky shot might even fire his cannon. Almost amused by the irony of the situation, he caught up the nearest blazing shaft of fire, and used it to light his fuse. In the briefest time the serpent of fire sped down through the hollowed creeper to the spiral, where, also, lay the bombs. Of a sudden the powder was ignited. With a flash of quickly leaping flames and a grayish geyser of fume, the destruction began. Then, as a cry of glee arose from the clearing below, the bombs went off in quick succession. They made a splendid noise and smoke, scattering fragments of the tufa far and wide, till a rain of the smaller pieces spattered thickly down in the jungle. Grenville arose from his hiding-place, quite unharmed, and ran about on the terrace crazily, holding his head between his hands for the distant rifleman to witness his discomfort. The Dyak was overjoyed. He shouted in reckless delight to his kind, who howled like a pack of wolves now certain of feasting. Yet they did not emerge from their places of concealment, nor undertake to bridge the trail, and immediately ascend the hill, as Grenville had somewhat feared. He crept to a point of vantage, watching the clearing for a demonstration which, much to his gratification, did not arrive. Back once more towards the cliff at the rear he scuttled, beholding the Dyak craft at last heading well around towards the cave. The moment was ripe for his scheme! Hurriedly creeping to the eastern brink, with one of his firebrands gripped between his teeth, he began a descent of the ladder. Halfway down he paused for breath, and furtively watched, from the tail of his eye, for the boat that should presently appear. It came within range of his vision silently, and down he continued as before. He could only hope that he might have been seen, for never a sound arose from the crew to make the matter certain. For, perhaps, a distance of twenty feet he must have been plainly in view. The last fleeting sight he caught of the boat, she was putting about with a suddenness enormously exciting to his blood. That the Dyaks had seen him, and were now intent upon turning away before he should turn and see their boat, and know himself discovered, was an inescapable conclusion. A moment later he was hidden by the ledge, and descended more at leisure, climbing inside the ladder presently, where it hung well out from the overhanging shelf, and so coming down upon his platform, with little or no exertion. Immediately on landing under the mouth of the cavern, he lifted the platform bodily, disengaged the hooks from the ladder's lower rung, and drew it behind him to the cave. The ladder itself he could not remove without climbing up to the terrace and issuing forth at the hidden door, which would doubtless prove fatal to his plans. He proceeded at once to his supplementary firebrands, in the larger spread of the gallery. Here all was going well. He extinguished one or two branches of the smoldering wood, to conserve the limited supply. After that it was simply a matter of waiting. How long it would take for the boat crew to land, inform their fellow head-hunters of what they had seen, and fetch the entire company to capture him, here in the chamber, was not a matter for easy estimation. He hoped it might happen soon. In this he was doomed to disappointment. The Dyak sailors had seen him, clearly enough. They had hastened back to report this eminently satisfying outcome of their tactics, and the nine eager fiends had then and there commenced their counter scheming. But they meant to commit no errors, assume no unnecessary risks. For, notwithstanding the fact they were fully convinced the white man's explosives had been reached by their arrows and destroyed, they retained a vivid memory of punishments inflicted by the gun, where one more deadly hail of slugs might lurk to find them again. It was, however, important that one or more men should mount the terrace, to watch at the head of the white man's ladder, and even render its use a fatal experiment, should the climber attempt to regain the summit by its means. They began investigations cautiously--all noted by Elaine. Peering breathlessly out at her narrow chink, her heart consumed with haunting worries, lest Grenville had met with some accident when the bombs were finally exploded, she now beheld a pair of the Dyaks in the clearing, apparently exposing themselves as if to draw any latent fire from the hill. As the minutes went by and trouble failed to come, their boldness plainly increased. They were not particularly hurried, however, in producing their bridge for the trail. When at length four natives brought it from the jungle, Elaine's heart pounded in her breast like a hammer forging at her soul. She had instantly recognized the bamboo platform. She thought that Sidney ought to come--to know of what was occurring. But he did not come, and could not leave his post below, where one of his fuses, he had found, had opened and spilt out its powder. This he was feverishly and gingerly working to repair, by the light of a glowing brand. Not for a moment daring to abandon her place by the door, Elaine felt a horrible sense of weakness attack her entire system as the Dyaks cautiously adjusted their bridge, while watching against a new surprise. That the four men now constantly visible must presently succeed in placing the slender platform from one broken ledge to the other, to mount in full possession of the terrace, Elaine could not fail to comprehend. The impulse to creep from her hiding-place and once more fire the cannon was fairly overwhelming. She was certain that Sidney, with all his wonderful scheming, had never contemplated this! He had simply instructed her to wait--to remain in the passage, behind the concealing barrier, no matter what occurred, till she felt at last the tug of the cord on her arm. She felt she must obey, that even to desert her post for the little time required to hasten down the gallery and let him know of the dangers now about her might cost them everything! Never had she in her life been subjected to such a trial as that which presently developed. The Dyaks had spanned the gap where the ledge was broken. Two of them crept a little forward on the bridge. It was now or never to fire the gun, while the four were still in range. She dared not disobey the order given by her chief. Suddenly darting past the spot where the cannon had taken its toll before, the Dyaks gained the summit--and were finally in possession of the camp! CHAPTER XLII LONG HOURS OF DOUBT Grenville had hoped to be able to hasten for a moment up the gallery and assure Elaine that all was well, and the matter now merely one of patience. His belated discovery that one of his fuses was deficient had somewhat shaken his nerves. Except for this timely restoration, his whole project must have been weakened, perhaps to absolute failure. His line of fuse was necessarily long, to assure essential safety for himself. He was obsessed with a fear that countless defects might have developed in the long line of powder-loaded creeper since the day it was made and laid away. In a fever of anxious searching, he examined practically every inch of both the lines, meantime returning frequently to the cavern's mouth, to guard against surprise. Before he felt certain the fuse could all be relied upon to perform its part in the business, he finally detected a Dyak boat attempting to go about and escape his possible observation from the dark retreat, while obviously hovering near, to watch that he did not escape. After that he dared not for a moment desert his post. And the longer the expected Dyaks remained away, the more imperative became his watchfulness and constant attendance at the cave. Meanwhile, up at her flimsy door, Elaine leaned affrightedly against the chilling wall, no longer peering forth at the chink, but tensely listening--listening for the sounds of feet above her head. All four of the Dyaks were there on the terrace, and, therefore, a few rods only from the passage in which she crouched, alone. There was nothing to see, save the platform and part of the trail, and she dared not stand so close to the door, lest her very breathing, or the beat of her heart, betray her presence at her post. When at length the unmistakable sound of beings on the rocks directly overhead came dully down through the roof of pitted stone, she shrank entirely down to the floor, her heart in a sickening flutter. Just to have cried out Sidney's name and to run like a child down the passage to his arms, would have been a relief so incredibly vast its comfort could not have been measured. But she did not move. She still obeyed, like the faithful comrade in arms she was, awaiting her portion, allotted by the Fates, though it might be death in its most revolting form. What sounds were made by the Dyaks, in retreat from that particular position, failed to come down through the rock. She was, therefore, denied the abatement of her apprehension which she might otherwise have known. She was thoroughly convinced that one of the fiends had been posted above the passage opening to remain indefinitely on guard. The Dyaks had, however, concluded their examination of the terrace rather promptly. There was almost nothing worth investigation. Grenville's imitation cannon had served its purpose to perfection. The head-hunters marveled that a gun so simply and readily constructed could have wrought such havoc in their ranks. But they found no reason to doubt it had been used, and they readily overlooked the small brass piece so artfully hidden by the stones. They had lost no time in removing the bowlders that supported Sidney's ladder. One or two only they suffered to remain--sufficient to anchor the affair in place, yet permit their man to drop back in the tide, should he intrust his weight to it. That the white man's powder magazine had been greatly diminished before their flaming arrows completed its destruction seemed indisputable. The bombs had torn out and blackened so much of a cavity that the Dyaks' gratification was complete. It was scarcely possible, they argued, that the man seen running crazily about had escaped a mortal hurt. He had certainly summoned the strength to escape to the cave, but there he might have died. All the waste sections of Sidney's bamboo were thrown with his cannon and his flag-pole in the sea. A thorough search was made of Elaine's former shelter, as well as of all the rock heaps on the place, for the treasure the man might have taken from the cave and concealed about his camp. Not until some time after noon did the visitors finally leave the hill and disappear in the jungle growth to mature their further plans. Elaine knew nothing of their departure. She still remained back in the darkness of the gallery, and, therefore, neither heard nor saw the movements made on the ledge. She was hardly less prepared than before to see the door of the gallery rudely torn away at any moment, and the hideous head-hunters confidently pouncing in upon her. Grenville, down in the blackness of the cavern, was hardly more easy in his mind. The Dyaks had failed to appear before the cave. He realized they might conclude to starve him to death in the tomb-like place, rather than risk another of his traps. To return to the terrace was out of the question. Not only might the natives be present, but, if once he were seen, they must immediately realize he had some unknown means of passage from the cave to the summit. That the ladder would be watched he was certain. It was also more than likely, he was sure, the Dyaks would either cut through the strands to weaken it, near the top, or displace the rocks he had heaped upon its end. Reflecting that to pull it down while one of their craft was cruising about the headland might convince them he had fallen in the sea, he laid his platform out on the ledge for the purpose before the terrace had been deserted. But the boat was not to be seen. At noon the sun beat down on the rocks about the cave with a hot, intolerable glare. Grenville was weary, as well as thirsty once more, and faint from lack of food. He dared not abandon the cavern now, however, since any moment might find the Dyaks slipping to the open niche to complete the deed they had vainly attempted before. Never had the long, sultry hours of afternoon dragged by more tediously. Never had the man so vividly realized how much it meant to be near Elaine, to hear her voice, to gaze in the depths of her eyes. It was not till the sun was about to set that his long, impatient vigil was somewhat rewarded at last. The Dyak boat drifted barely in sight, as he crouched there on the shattered ledge. Without a moment's hesitation, even as he saw that the craft was beating back, as before, to the shelter behind the cliff, he ran out his platform, dropped its end across a rung of the ladder, and cast a heavy stone as far out upon it as possible. It hung there, solidly enough, for a moment, then slipped a foot--and abruptly the whole writhing length came down, to land in the whirlpool and sink. The platform, however, was recovered. Returning at once to his place behind the wall, Sidney waited in new expectancy for the Dyaks to appear. They did not come. The sun went down--and with it Grenville's hope. The head-hunters feared him still! They must have determined some trick was prepared against their invasion of the cave! He was utterly sick with discouragement. His long, hard day, to say nothing of Elaine's, had been spent like this, in vain. He felt he had merely lost ground. The Dyaks were doubtless already in possession of the terrace, where he could not attack them to advantage, since precisely as soon as he made his appearance on the hill-top the passage must be revealed. He clung to the hope that dusk would bring the murderous pack to his stand--that they might have waited for darkness to sneak upon him unawares. But the twilight faded into blackest night, with clouds obscuring the friendly stars, and still no head-hunters came. When at length he was certain no native would dare intrust himself or his boat to the treacherous maelstrom of the niche, he abandoned hope for the night. Returning to the passageway, he closed its door behind him, secured it with the bar, and groped his way upward through the velvet gloom for a word of cheer with Elaine. He called to her softly as he came towards the top, and she hastened down to meet him. She was certain something had gone amiss, but her courage was sufficient to sustain almost anything, so long as she knew he was safe. "Got a bit hungry," he told her, off-handedly. "Those chaps do keep one waiting!" "Sh-s-s-sh!" she said, in a warning whisper; "I think they're just outside." "You saw them come up?" he asked her, eagerly. "Four of them--after you fired the bombs. They put a bridge across the hole, as you thought, perhaps, they might." "H'm," said Sidney, quietly, going to the door and peering forth on the jungle. "They haven't gone down since?" "Not that I saw. I wasn't watching all the while." "You haven't heard them talking, near the door?" "No, oh no! I haven't heard a thing! I haven't known what to do--or whether you were alive or dead. I didn't know what my duty was when I saw them come up, and wanted to fire the cannon! I thought the day would never end! Have you had to give up at last?" "Certainly not!" he assured her, cheerfully, aware from every accent of her voice what tortures she had suffered there alone. "I must soon return--and you must go to bed. I haven't the slightest idea they will come before next high tide, about eight, or later, in the morning. Meantime you did exactly right. They haven't the slightest notion of this secret passage, you may be sure, or nothing on earth could have kept them out. And they long since returned to their boats.... I suppose you have had neither food nor water. A little hurried supper for us both, and I must go down to the basement for the night." Elaine had removed the cord from her arm, and secured it by the door. Sidney ignited a slender piece of torch-wood, by the smoldering brands maintained in the upper passage. He carried it promptly around the angle of the gallery, however, as an added precaution against the escape of one revealing beam through the chink that pierced the barrier facing the jungle world. The dinner they ate was neither warm nor comforting. Cold fish is barely sustaining, while the tonic properties of water are scarcely worth describing. Elaine, however, was enormously reheartened, thus to have Sidney there again, and know he had suffered no hurt. She bade him good-night when their meager repast was finished, with the bravest cheer that Grenville had taken to heart for many a weary day. Then, with the cord once more on her arm, she resumed her place by the door. CHAPTER XLIII THE HOUR OF CLIMAX Grenville made no attempt to sleep as the long night went laggardly by. He dozed, from sheer weariness, now and again, with his back against the rocks, but two or three times in every hour he rose from his place to go out on the ledge, where he listened to catch the slightest sound that might be made above the ceaseless lapping of the water. He would then return to the gallery, assure himself the smoldering brands were ready for use at any moment, and once more sit down to wait and nod. Elaine was equally sleepless. Far more than Grenville she feared night treacheries on the part of the Dyaks from the jungle. The state of her nerves, since the terrace was so readily accessible to the head-hunting butchers, permitted no thought of sleep. Moreover, never since their arrival on the island had Grenville so far exiled himself from her side throughout a night. She had always felt protected heretofore, and upon that protection had relied. As restlessly as the man below she came to the door, times without number, to listen for sounds the jungle might surrender, as well as to watch through the darkness for the slightest inimical sign. Not a sound, however, did the night vouchsafe her straining senses; not the slightest movement in all the world of shadows, life, and tragedy about and below her position could her blazing eyes detect. She had never known a night so long, or one so haunted with fears. Her imagination played cruelly upon her heart, picturing one dread scene of butchery after another, with Sidney completely overwhelmed and finally slain, while she, no longer desirous of life, awaited her fate in a dumb and dulled indifference. She was certain the morning would never dawn again, or, if it did, the one man pitted against these savages might not even have time for one faint tug on the cord about her arm, more like a farewell than a signal. It was a red and troubled break of day that finally reddened the eastern sky, where clouds were banked above the sea. Grenville had dozed for perhaps as much as twenty minutes. He awoke with a start from lurid dreams in which he had fancied himself awake after criminally oversleeping, only to find himself and Elaine pinned down by a horde of the merciless brutes to whom human heads are trophies. The red of the sky for a moment confirmed some remaining disorder of his thoughts. He had stumbled quickly to the cavern's mouth, from which the sanguinary streaks and blotches, now painting the far horizon and dully reflected in the sea, were confusedly presented. The coolness of the haunting breeze, that crept like a presence about the silent island, restored him soon and cleared the mists from his brain. He stood for several minutes, gazing listlessly forth, disgusted with the outcome of the night. Once more he returned to the gallery to inspect his brands of fire. And once again, on returning to the chamber, his inclination was to prop his back against the wall and let himself sink in slumber. The dawn-light was slowly increasing. He watched it dully for a moment more, and yawned as he stumbled heavily towards the utter discomfort of his resting-place. Once more he adjusted his weary limbs upon the ledge, reflecting on what expedient he must now adopt, since this, his _coup-de-main_, had so egregiously failed. He thought he was planning brilliantly when he once more fell asleep. The slightest of sounds that was foreign alike to tide or breeze now failed to arouse his senses as his head came forward on his breast. Not another sound was made where that one had strangely risen from the front of the shattered ledge. Even the sharpest eyes would have been for a moment tricked by the shadows of the rocky niche, where the tide was darkly swirling. A fragment of the lower cliff then appeared to be detached. It was simply Grenville's catamaran, with two or three natives upon its deck, silently maneuvering to land. Back of it, just well off the frowning headland wall, the bow of a larger Dyak craft appeared for the fraction of a minute. The head-hunting fiends had arrived! They had chosen the hour when exhaustion finally culminates and claims the helpless sentinel, heavily dreaming that all is well! Aware that the slightest disturbance might warn their intended victims in the cave, the Dyaks labored with the utmost caution to fetch the float to the ledge. This they presently accomplished, fending it off at a vital moment lest it scrape against the rock. Two of the half-clad demons now landed, their movements as sinuous and silent as a serpent's. Instantly flattening down upon the tide-lapped shelf, while the third of their party skillfully guided the catamaran once more to the larger craft without, they waited as patiently as the shadows, of which they seemed a part. The plans of the crew on the boat without had been matured with much sagacity. The transfer of two more men to the raft was quickly and noiselessly accomplished, and once again the catamaran was permitted to swing on the tide's rotation into the open entrance of the inlet. This second pair, with knives between their teeth and hands therefore unencumbered, were a trifle overeager to gain the mouth of the cave. One of them caught at the fissured edge of tufa with avid fingers, while the float was responding to the force of the whirl. His hold was rudely broken, yet so sharply had he dug in his nails that a fragment of rock was broken away. It plumped with a gurgle in the water. Grenville was suddenly awakened--not so much by the sound the bit of rock had made as by something more subtle in the very air--a something only to be interpreted by that instinct surviving from ages dark and old. He was suddenly alive to a sense of imminent danger lurking fearfully close at hand. None too soon and none too silently he rose to his feet, for there at the ledge the catamaran was halted and, even as the two impatient Dyaks landed, their companions came worming up the shelf. A moment more and all must have been too late, as Grenville clearly realized. Indeed, with the utmost caution only could retreat to his gallery be effected without a betrayal of his presence. He dared not move swiftly from his post--and yet he must be quick! Slowly and noiselessly withdrawing from his place beside the wall, he took one long step inwards, towards the door he must place against the open gallery entrance. The dawn-light, redder and more intense, now cast an intangible shadow in the chamber as a Dyak's head appeared above the ledge. The fiends were all but on his heels! He slipped within the passage, without creating the slightest sound, save the loud, tumultuous pounding of his heart. Lifting the door no less cautiously into its proper position, he left a crack, that was barely a half-inch wide, through which to watch his visitors, writhing like so many pythons over the shelf and into the ebon well of gloom. Their plan was to crawl to the confines of the cave--unless they should creep by chance upon their sleeping victims sooner, leaving a couple crouched outside to prevent the quarry's escape. Torches were not to be lighted until every man was posted, and then would be thrown to the center of the cavern where their light would reveal the chamber's occupants, while the outer rim of darkness still concealed the gleaming knives. A counter attack would be rendered out of the question. The cordon would be complete. Three of those strangely-moving shadows Grenville plainly discerned. There was nothing more to be seen--and nothing to be heard. That several Dyaks were almost at his feet he felt, but could not have proved. He had hoped for half a dozen at the least. He hoped for them still, and deliberately waited, trusting they might arrive. It seemed such a pity to waste his mines and not obliterate the lot! He wondered if more of them might not come--then how he should know, if they did. Meanwhile, the three not included here in the cave-attacking party were equally active above. The red of the dawn had seen them advancing through the jungle where they meant to take the hill and block the retreat of the victims to that eminence by any chance of extra ladders or white man's baffling magic. Elaine beheld them, through the strengthening light, so soon as they crossed the clearing. They paused there as if for a signal, which they may or may not have received. It gave the girl, who had watched with an ever-increasing fever through the night and that blood-red dawn, a long wild moment in which to imagine fates untold that must have overtaken Sidney. She was certain at last he was murdered in the cave, and that now, with the passageway finally known, the fiends, whose passion was taking human life, had come to complete their tale of butchery and plunder. Why else should they once more visit the hill at such an hour of the morning? They had barely waited for the dawn to make certain of their work! She saw them coming furtively up the trail, aware, she was sure, that by means of the hidden gallery their movements might be seen. She had held a wasting firebrand in her tense little fist for the past two hours. And now--if only Sidney had told her what to do in such an extremity as this! If only it might be her duty to fire the cannon! It seemed as if she must obey the impulse--and perhaps save both of their lives! The Dyaks were almost at the bridge. They must soon come fairly in range of the gun! After that--it would be too late! Below, in the cavern, during this time, Grenville was haunted with doubts. He had waited in hopes other Dyaks would come, and not a sound had rewarded his straining senses. He began to fear he had waited too long--that the creatures whose shadows had crept within had searched all the place and departed. Yet he knew that they could not have passed him and left him unaware. The light was now all in his favor, and steadily increasing. With a sudden determination to take what toll the Fates had offered, he groped his way back to his brands of fire, and then to the ends of his fuse. Elaine, with her heart all but bursting, with excitement for which she had no vent, saw the head-hunters pause on the slender bridge before they crept upward as before. Her weight was leaned against the door till it moved a little from its bearings. She was sure it had made some far-reaching sound that the Dyaks could not fail to hear. They had paused again--and again moved up the trail--and found her helpless. The cord on her arm!--if Sidney would only pull the cord---- The sharp little tug that suddenly came now startled a cry from her lips. Instantly thrusting away the door and bounding from the narrow ledge to the upper level of the terrace, she ran towards the fuse with her cone of fire, just as Grenville, down in the gallery of rock, came madly plunging upward. He had lighted the fuse, and was groping towards the top, a fear that he might be buried pursuing at his heels. He stumbled across the heavy load of treasure, left in its basket by the wall. As one in an earthquake or fire clutches up something to save it, instinctively, so he laid hold of this useless dross and tugged it hotly up the passage. He reached the upper angle thus before he realized the folly of his action. He was certain then, as he dropped the load, that something had happened to his mines. Before this time---- With the thought half finished in his swiftly-working brain came the thud and shock of his explosion--a tangible movement in the bulk of rock--and then the cataclysm. Almost as one with Elaine's small detonation, the mighty jar, the air-confounding concussion, the smothered boom, and the dizzying tremor that swayed the hill, shook down the girl's bewildered senses. She saw the red leap from the cannon's mouth--and saw three men, surprised to inaction on the deadly angle of the trail--then down she went, her mind convinced she had rended the island asunder. Sounds of colossal destruction stormed through the air for a time that seemed to have no end. The roar of a cataract of broken stone, confusedly toppling from estates erected by the ages, was lost in a tumult of other sounds where the headland seemed to fill the sea. Dust of the rock and smoke of the rock ascended with fumes of the powder. Tidal disturbances splashed and seethed where the sea, having split to receive those tons of chaos, surged back with augmented violence at this displacement of its waters. The cave had been blotted from existence! Its walls and its ceiling had crashed from their several places. to leave only an ugly scar. Whole towers of rocks, cleaved from the hill's main mass in sudden violence, had hung in disordered ruin against the quaking air for a second, then rioted downward on the Dyak boat to plunge it, rent and shivered, to the bottom. Not a man of that murderous group below had survived the climax of that second. The place that had once been a treasure tomb, with a wailing "spirit" at its portals, was at last a very tomb indeed; but nevermore would its tidal wail arise on the air to render the cavern sacred. Like a veritable spirit of underground destruction, Grenville emerged from the passage, unaware of all he had done. His thought was only of Elaine. He called, as he climbed to the terrace, but no glad little cry made response. Then, abruptly, he saw her prostrate figure on the rocks--and beyond her two men, with one limberly inert, limping blindly down the trail. To dart to his store, snatch the last of his bombs, and pursue these three who had threatened Elaine was the first wild impulse of his being. Just one such blow, to follow up his victory, and perhaps they should need no more! But he ran instead to the helpless figure near the cannon. He knew what she had done. He took her up swiftly, calling on her name, and carried her back to the former cave, where a rosy light from the risen sun made it seem like a haven of promise. CHAPTER XLIV A LOTUS BLOSSOM It was still very early in the morning when Grenville finally discovered, afar out northward on the sea, two Dyak boats making swiftly away from the island. He feared for a moment, when the sails were first discerned, they were new craft about to arrive. He could not have known that his mines sunk the third of the boats formerly at anchor in the inlet, and was in no way enabled to determine how many of the enemy had perished at the cave. It was almost too much to credit, this apparent retreat of the fiends so bent upon his capture. He made no positive report to Elaine of the fact he felt he must verify, lest he find himself obliged to retract it later. She had quickly responded to his ministrations, having fainted as much from lack of food and rest as from shock in that final moment. Concerning the final effect of her shot, she was destined never to know. Grenville was far too wise to let her believe she had taken the life even of a fiend in human semblance. He told her the Dyaks had fled from the place, which flight he had personally witnessed. He was certain, moreover, they would hardly return again that day, if they did not quit the island. Assured of the safety of the adventure, he descended to the jungle and returned with an armful of fruit. He proceeded later to the spring for a fresh supply of water. Estimating the final fighting force of the Dyaks at ten, and conceding that five, at the least, must have perished at the cave, since one or two must have guarded the boats while three were searching the chamber, he concluded that no more than four at the most could still remain uninjured. He had gone to the edge of the ruin, above the obliterated cave, and, having discovered no boat either near or far, had arrived at a fairly accurate conjecture respecting the fate of the craft the Dyaks had employed. One more calculation, respecting the number of able seamen required to navigate the retreating vessels, convinced him the island was deserted to the uses of Elaine and himself. It was not, however, till that afternoon that he cautiously explored their former possessions and confirmed the hope in his breast. There was ample evidence about the spring, and in the jungle, of the methods of living the Dyaks had employed, but neither at the western inlet, back of the central hill of rock, nor at the friendly estuary, was anything boatlike to be found. His catamaran had vanished, along with the larger craft, and its fate he could readily surmise. He lost no time in arranging a number of his snares and traps for the meat of which they were in need. Their camp was made as before on the terrace proper, despite the heat of the sun. It was not until many of these essential comforts had been once more established that Sidney explored the gallery to determine what destruction had been wrought by his double mine. Everything stored in the lower depths had been hopelessly buried by the rock. The passage was open for no more than half its former length. His bamboo raft was among the possessions sacrificed to the ruse that had finally succeeded beyond even his wildest dreams. Not ten feet back of his basket-load of treasure the last of the caving had been halted. When Elaine's robe and couch, their water-jugs, and his last remaining bomb had been once more returned to the earlier camp, practically nothing but the gold and precious stones remained in the gallery. Elaine was aware the trinkets were lying there on view, but so vast was her relief at the vanishment of danger--though it might be temporarily only--she had no desire for gauds and baubles, and no particular curiosity respecting their worth or appearance. Indeed, these two had endured too much to dwell upon jewels and gold. They were free from menace for a time, but--the future still loomed before them, inimical and obscure. Their life in this tropic exile was still to be faced, day after day. That morning and long sweet afternoon, however, they passed in restful inactivity, possessed by ineffable thankfulness and a sense of relief that was utterly relaxing to their racked and exhausted nerves. It seemed a strange, impossible state, this peacefulness, security, and freedom to move about once more, alone in their Shalimar. And Grenville knew it was far too good to last. Yet for several days it seemed as if the propitiating Fates made every possible endeavor to erase from the tablets of their memory all records of the agonies and apprehensions they had recently undergone. They were wonderful days, for sheer inspiriting beauty. A cool, spicy breeze was wafted, with the sunshine, across the smiling ocean. The jungle was redolent of fragrances of intoxicating sweetness. Down on the beach her leafy bower once more found Elaine idly resting in her hammock, or busily preparing a tempting repast from the once more generous larder. The girdle of gold she continued to wear in happiness that stole unbidden to her heart--a happiness as subtle and welcome as the perfumes that stole to her senses on the breeze. And when she finally found and plucked a solitary lotus blossom, floating near the estuary's edge, it seemed as if the ecstasy possessing all her nature must bring about some miracle of untold joy and bliss. Grenville was hardly less transported by the hourly pleasures that day and night alike seemed bearing to this island world, like argosies from Eden. Subconsciously, beneath it all, he knew the boats that had sailed away would one day return, perhaps with more of their species, and better prepared for a swift and merciless revenge. Yet even then he was slow to employ his wits and energies to prepare for another siege, his disinclination for more revolting ordeals casting a lethargy on all his fighting attributes, while days like these, voluptuously serene and toxicant, suggested vast contentment to his spirit. Indeed, his spirit as well as his body needed rest. To this he was constantly urged by Elaine, who understood, far better than himself, how unsparingly he had drained the vital essences of his being through all these uncounted weeks. She, too, was aware they were only secure for a moment, that untold dangers must be lurking just beyond the rim of their purple horizon. She had finally learned from Sidney's lips how the vessels had sailed away. She had, however, seen this sign of security previously fail--and felt it would fail again. The future her soul avoided. Darkness and tragedy were only too readily imagined. At best it was all uncertain, rife with shadows, peopled with ghosts of doubt and haunting dreads. Meantime, their own green Shalimar was once more fresh with sunny smiles that enticed her spirit to song. She sang to herself through many hours of joyous "household" duties. The songs she chose were happy little fragments wherein she imagined Grenville set, with herself always traipsing at his side. She sang her songs to and of him, watching him shyly when he was near, and sending her thoughts to seek him out when he hunted or wandered in the jungle. It was not until one of those incomparable mornings, with the tropic greenery fresh as a breath over clover, that he finally heard the notes she had prisoned in her bosom break forth in clear, sweet utterance, as crystal bright as the sun. He paused in the screen of ferns and palms to partake of her wild, sweet rapture. And how lightly and gladly she sang! "_Come out, come out, my dearest dear, Come out and greet the sun! The birds awake on tree and brake, The merry May's begun!_ "_Come out and drink the diamond dew, Come out and tread the lea! The world is all awake, and you Are all the world to me!_" All that was starved in his nature stirred in response to the song. His blood leaped faster, its glow like that of rich and sense-delighting wine. A vivid memory of the one lawless kiss he had dared to snatch from Elaine's red lips inflamed a sweet desire. He had called her his sweetheart, called her his mate, for the frenzy of joy, the ecstasy, her nature had wrought upon his own. He felt to-day his claim had been proved, by their life alone with God. They had worked and fought and planned the days away together, like a mated pair fresh created and cast to an Eden of the sea. They belonged to one another. Love had come at last to Elaine--a love to match the strength and purpose of his own--a love overwhelming, natural, unabashed--was their rightful heritage. Its holiness gave it sanction; its rightness made it as pure as fire that makes hard metal molten. He started slowly towards the hill whereon Elaine was busied. He halted, however, hidden from view by a new banana foliage, wondrously unrolling. Another song was floating on the air. "_Pale hands I loved, upon the Shalimar, Where are you now? Who lies beneath thy spell? Whom do you lead on rapture's roadway jar Before you agonize them, in farewell?_ "_Pale hands I loved, upon the Shalimar, Where are you now? Where are you now?_" The mad intoxication of his senses rocked him strangely, there in the thicket. He saw the gleam of the jeweled girdle that spanned Elaine's lithe figure, as she moved about on the brink of the terrace above. Once again his heart struck mightily against its walls, as it had the first day she had worn this gold, by way of a maid's confession. He knew at last her Shalimar was a wild little garden of love, to be sacredly shared between them. Excited to trembling he started again to join her at the cavern. Before he could come to the foot of the trail she suddenly ran to the terrace-edge, looking down like a vision of despair. "Sidney!" she cried, "another Dyak boat! I've just this minute seen the sail!" Ready to curse the merciless Fates, as well as his own recent laziness, which had made calamity possible, Grenville ran swiftly up the mended trail and followed Elaine to the tree. The sail was certainly plain enough to see, far out in the purple waters. It was, to all appearances, bearing directly down upon the island. But, as Grenville watched, it altered shape. His face showed a sign of relaxing. "I don't believe it's a Dyak craft," he told her, hoarsely. "It looks like---- I think it's a yacht." CHAPTER XLV THE LAST BOMB It certainly was a modern yacht that the two of them saw, straining their eyes to identify the stranger roving afar in their waters. A trick of the sun, or perhaps her paint, had concealed both masts and funnel for a time, presenting only a rakish angle of her prow and quarter, incredibly like a sail of the shape the Dyaks employ. But, if eager excitement surged uninterruptedly through the pulses of the two ragged exiles, there on the barren headland, the bitterness of vain disappointments promptly began their inroads to its centers. The yacht was not only in great apparent haste, but was heading far off to the eastward, with not the slightest curiosity respecting the tiny island of whom no one could give a good report. The flagpole was gone--and a new one had been neglected. There was no time now to erect another, as Grenville realized. He stood with Elaine on the brink of the rock, frantically waving his arms and cap, and even a large banana leaf, while the slender distant visitor came abreast them and continued straight ahead. "They've got to see! They've got to!" he cried, in the desperate plight of mind begotten by this promise thus mercilessly snatched away. Suddenly abandoning all other possible devices, he ran to his powder "magazine," where the last of the bombs was stored. He came with it hugged against his breast, in thoughtless and dangerous proximity to the firebrand clutched in his fist. "Run back!" he said. "I haven't time to make it thoroughly safe!" But Elaine remained to see him lower it down on the broken rocks, where the cave had formerly existed. She waited, indeed, till he lighted the fuse and drew her away towards the shelter. His eyes were on the distant yacht, fast fading once more from their vision. The bomb must have failed. The fuse was deficient, he was sure. He started back to recover the thing and make it certain of explosion. Then it burst, and flung shattered fragments along all the face of the wall. Grenville was watching the distant yacht with fixed, almost frenzied, expression. "They haven't heard!" he groaned, despairingly. "They're going faster than before!" It certainly seemed as if the hurried stranger would no more halt than would a fiery meteor overdue at some cosmic appointment. Then of a sudden, from its bow, broke a pure-white cloud of smoke. She had answered with the small brass piece employed to fire a salute. Her prow was turned before the sound came dully across the waters. Sobbing and laughing together, in sudden relief, Elaine sank down on her knees, among the bowlders, to watch this deliverance come. CHAPTER XLVI A GIFT REFUSED The yacht was the "Petrel," luxurious hobby of Sir Myles Kemp, diverted from her homeward course by the merest whim of her owner to run up northward for a day while Sir Myles should inspect the rubber plantation and estate of his old fellow-officer, Captain Williams, who was not even present at the place. The inspection was never made. The utter amazement occasioned by the chance discovery of the exiles of Three-Hill Island, plus their story of its fateful occupation, completely overshadowed all else in the minds of the "Petrel's" commander and crew, whose one idea was to assist the castaways home with the greatest speed of which steel and steam were capable. The picture the pair presented as they came aboard--Elaine amazingly tattered, a supple, tanned, incredibly sweet and womanly little figure--Grenville, a bearded, active master of the wild, clad in the skin of a cheeta for a coat, and bearing a richly colored tiger-skin, rolled up to contain a hundredweight of treasure--was one that Sir Myles was destined never to forget. He was likewise always destined to misunderstand the emotions with which, as they steamed away at last, Elaine looked back, with tears in her eyes, at the unpeopled Isle of Shalimar, so green in its purple setting, presenting its headland to the sea with that lone tree reared above its summit. Grenville, too, had seen her eyes--and he more nearly comprehended. By great good-fortune much of Lady Kemp's wardrobe had been left aboard the yacht. She and Elaine must have been of a size, to judge from the manner in which her yachting apparel and her dainty boudoir adjusted themselves to the form of the girl whom Sir Myles began forthwith to treat as he might a daughter. The "Petrel" was put about and headed for Colombo--the nearest port at which an Orient steamer would be likely to be encountered. It was not until after dinner had been served and his guests had been made as thoroughly comfortable as warm-hearted hospitality, admiration for the two of them, and exceptional thoughtfulness could compass that Sir Myles related the accepted fate of the "Inca," from the wreck of which they escaped. The news had gone forth that she foundered, and not a soul was saved. A few insignificant pieces of wreckage had been found afloat, far from the unknown ledge of rock the earthquake had lifted in the sea, but no one till now had heard so much as a theory as to what had been her fate. That some such intelligence must have been sent to the worried and waiting relatives and friends beyond the seas, both Grenville and Elaine had long before comprehended, despite the preoccupation engrossing their minds all these many age-long weeks. But now, when at length they were homeward bound, the facts presented an aspect which there had been no occasion to prepare against while struggling for existence on the island. There was one thought only in their minds. It was Fenton, and what he might have done when that news had expended its shock. And what would be the outcome of the story, now that the home-coming journey was resumed--now that he, Sidney Grenville, could at last complete and discharge his original commission? He faced the business hardly more calmly than did Elaine. No argument possible to him now, respecting the warning Fenton had received, availed to allay and satisfy his haunting sense of honor. The man had matured on Shalimar, and his soul had been refined. But what strange days those were that now succeeded! How they robbed him of his happiness, as they brought him nearer home! His spirits sank and would not rise, the nearer Colombo was approached. He told himself then, once he could wire, acquaint Gerald Fenton with the fact they were safe, and would soon be with him, he would come to some peace of mind. But, when at length the wire was sent, he experienced no such relief. Relief, indeed, had failed to come when for three days and nights the Orient boat had been plowing across the Indian Ocean, rushing headlong from the tropic heat to the distant ports beyond. He thought, perhaps, if he informed Elaine, the business would be settled. He attempted that day to introduce the subject, but in vain. Elaine was so sparklingly happy! He postponed the ordeal for the night. The moon had returned to the skies again, bringing to the wanderers ineffable memories of other nights, when peace lay tranquilly fragrant on the world of their Shalimar. He detected its subtle influence on the ever-vivacious little woman who had shared his perils and his joys. Elaine was softly thrilling to the spell of it all as she halted beside him, finally, on a strip of the deck abandoned to their uses. She felt that the atmosphere was overcharged, and wondered what might be impending. To still the pounding of her heart she leaned on the taffrail, ecstatically in touch with Grenville's arm. She spoke of the wonder of the night. "Yes," drawled Grenville, in his old dry way, "great facilities here for manufacturing nights---- I wired Gerald from Colombo." For a moment Elaine was puzzled by this wholly irrelevant remark. Then her heart began to rock uneasily. "You--wired we were coming home?" "Wired I was fetching you home, after unavoidable delay." She recognized the difference between the way that she and he had expressed the principal fact. She felt herself, as it were, already surrendered to a man grown singularly foreign to her nature. It seemed to her incredible that Sidney and she should ever again be parted, or work out their several destinies in any manner save together--especially after all he had said and even done. "Was that--all you said?" she asked him, faintly. "No. I said I'd be best man--or something of the sort." Elaine felt something leaden go down to the point of her heart. "You wanted him to know that you had no idea---- You wanted Gerald to understand----" She could not finish her sentence. Her face was hotly flaming, but at least she could turn it away. Grenville's voice was hard and strange. "It was barely his right to know that we were coming. I could do no less, as you'll certainly agree." His speeches were constrained, unnatural, as Elaine had instantly felt. Her own were scarcely less embarrassed--after all these months when their entire world had comprised themselves alone. It seemed a monstrous error that anything but free, unfettered companionship and candor should exist between them now. "I know," she said. "Of course." She added, after a moment, "It seems so peculiar, that's all--to--resume as we were before." He was looking at his fist, for no good reason in the world. "It is what you have hoped for every day." "To get away from the Dyaks--why, of course." Another silence supervened. After three unsuccessful efforts at speech, Elaine at last found the voice and the courage for a question: "Do you wish to be--best man?" Grenville spread out his fingers, for further inspection. "I probably shouldn't have suggested it otherwise." She turned upon him impulsively. "Sidney, are you absolutely honest?" "Oh, I wouldn't trouble old Diogenes to get out of his grave and look me up," he answered, in his customary spirit, "but I've got a faint idea what honor means." How well she knew his various manners of evasion! Her heart was pounding furiously. She leaned with all her weight against the rail, as if for fear he must hear its clamorous confessions. She had never been so excited in her life--or more courageous. Likewise she felt she possessed certain God-given rights that were poised at the brink of disaster. For a love like hers comes never lightly and is not to be lightly dismissed. Her utterance was difficult, but mastered. "One night--in the smoke--on the island--when we might have died of thirst--and you came with water---- You remember what you said?" "Concerning what?" "Concerning--love." He was gripping a stanchion fiercely; his fingers were white with the strain. "Vaguely---- I think I was exhausted." "Oh! you're not--you're not honest at all!" she suddenly exploded. "That day of the wreck--on the steamer--you know what you said to me then! And any man who has acted so nobly, so thoughtfully----" He turned and gripped the small, soft hand by his coat-sleeve on the rail. "Don't do it, little woman--don't do it!" he said, in a low voice, charged with passion. "You told me some stinging truths that day, and now--they're truer than ever!" "I didn't!" she said, no longer master of her feelings. "I didn't tell the truth! I said I hated--said I loathed---- And you _said_ I'd throw his ring in the sea--and you said you'd make me--like you--some--and you know that I couldn't help liking you now--when you've treated me so horribly all the time! And after everything we've done together----" "Elaine!" he interrupted, hoarsely, "when did you throw away his ring?" "After the tiger--the night I gave you the cap, and you acted so hatefully and mean! It bounced and went into the water." He was white, and tremendously shaken, while gleams of incandescence burned deeply in his eyes. How he stayed the lawless impulse to take her to his arms he never knew. He dropped her hand and turned away, with a savage note of pain upon his lips. "Good Heavens!" he said, "why don't you help me a little? I had no right then! I have no right now! ... I'm going to take you home to Fenton, if it's the very last act of my life!" She, too, was white and trembling. "I know what you mean--you _never_ loved! You don't know the meaning of the word!" "All right," he said. "We'll let it go at that." "Oh, you're perfectly horrid!" she suddenly cried, the hot tears springing to her eyes. "I refuse to be taken back to Gerald! I refuse to have anything more to do with any selfish man in the world!" She retreated a little towards the saloon, her two hands going swiftly to a gleaming band that all but spanned her waist. "And there's your old girdle, with Gerald's ring, that you made me throw away!" she added, flinging the tiger's collar towards the sea. It struck on a stanchion, bounded to the deck, and settled against a near-by chair. She waited a second, instantly ashamed, and longing to beg his forgiveness. But he leaned as before against the rail, his eyes still bent upon the water. Weakly, with drooping spirits, Elaine retreated through an open door, still watching, in hopes he would turn and call her back. Then, stoutly suppressing her choking and pent emotions, she fled to the dismal comfort of her stateroom, and, falling face downward in her narrow berth, surrendered to the vast relief of sobbing. CHAPTER XLVII A FRIEND IN NEED That one more shock of surprise could overtake the returning castaways before the final landing could be accomplished would have seemed incredible to either Grenville or Elaine--and yet it came. They had spent a number of wretched days--days far more miserable and hope-destroying than any their dire experience had brought into being, as the mere result of that final scene enacted in the moonlight by the rail. The steamer had touched in the night at some unimportant, outlying port of call to which no one had paid the tribute of interest usual on the sea. A single male passenger had boarded. The man was Gerald Fenton. The message dispatched from Colombo had fetched him, post haste, to this midway ground for the meeting. But the meeting occurred in a manner wholly unexpected. Like the wholly considerate gentleman he was, Fenton had made all preparations for removing the startling elements from the fact of his presence on the boat. Like so many of life's little schemings, however, the plans went all "aglee." Elaine not only did not linger in her stateroom in the morning late enough to receive his note from the stewardess, but, when she hastened up to the topmost deck for her early morning exercise before the more lazy should appear, she literally ran into Fenton's arms at the head of the narrow stairs. Her surprise could hardly have been greater. She recoiled from the contact automatically, before she had time to see who it was with whom she had collided. Then a note of astonishment broke from her lips as she halted, leadenly. "Why--Gerald!" she managed to stammer, without the slightest hint of gladness in her tone. "Here?" "Well, little girl!" he answered, smilingly; and, coming to her in his quiet way, he took her hands to greet her with a kiss. A note of uncertainty forced itself to audible expression as she slightly retreated from his proffered caress and received it on her cheek. "Well! well!" Fenton continued, "you're certainly fit--and brown! You couldn't have had the note I sent to break the news. I tried to give you warning." "No," she said, constrainedly, "I've had no word. How did you get here--come aboard? I don't see how---- It took me so by surprise." "I'm sorry," he said, his smile losing something of its brightness. "I boarded at midnight, when the steamer touched at Fargo. When I got Sid's wholly incredible wire that you were both safe and well and coming home---- But how is the good old rascal?" Elaine's constraint increased. "Quite well, I believe--as far as I know." "Isn't he with you, here on the boat, going home?" "Oh, yes, he's on the steamer." Fenton was groping, without a woman's intuitions, through the something he felt in the air. "Don't you like him, Elaine?" he asked her, bluntly. "What's wrong?" "Why--nothing's wrong," she answered, unconvincingly. "It's just the surprise of meeting you like this." "I'm sorry," he said, as he had before, his eyes now entirely smileless. "I might have managed it better, I suppose---- Aren't you a little bit glad to see me?" Elaine attempted a smile and a manner more cordial. "Of course--I'm delighted! But it takes me just a minute or so to realize it's really you." "Never mind. Take your time," he told her, indulgently. "Perfect miracle, you know, that you and old Sid should have come through the wreck of the 'Inca'--the sole survivors of the accident--and lived out there--somewhere--on an island, I hear--and now be nearing home. I'm eager to hear the story." "Yes," she agreed, "it doesn't seem real to me, now. It's more like a long, strange dream." "I have only heard a little from the captain," he continued, forcing a conversation which he felt was wholly unspontaneous and hardly even congenial. "Naturally, all his information----" She saw his eyes quickly brighten as his gaze went past her to the stairs. "Sid!" he cried, moving swiftly forward; and Grenville appeared on the deck. His face was suddenly reddened, beneath the veneer of tan. But the boyish joy with which he rushed for Fenton was a heartening thing to see. The two simply gripped, with might and main, and hammered each other with one free hand apiece, and laughed, and called one another astonishing names till it seemed they might explode. "You savage! You tough old Redskin!" Fenton finally managed to articulate, distinctly. "If it isn't yourself as big as life! And I want you to know I haven't made your fortune--not exactly--yet--but it's certain at last. And how about your winning my little girl? Speak up, you caveman of the---- Oh, Elaine!" But Elaine had fled the scene. That moment began the tug at the ties of friendship and the test of the souls of the three. It was not a time of happiness that thereupon ensued. Elaine avoided both the men as far as possible. Grenville alone seemed natural, and yet even his smiles were tinged with the artificial. He was glad to relate their varied adventures--the tale of the perils through which they had finally won. But how much of it all Gerald Fenton really heard no man could with certainty tell. Fenton was neither a self-conceited person nor a blind man, groping through life. Through the stem of his finely colored calabash he puffed many a thought, along with his fragrant tobacco fume, and revolved it in his brain. Between certain lines of Grenville's story he read deep happenings. That Sidney had saved and preserved Elaine, and battled for her comfort and her very life, against all but overwhelming odds, was a fact that required no rehearsal. Mere propinquity, as Fenton knew, has always been the match-maker incomparable, throughout the habited world. Add to the quite exceptional propinquity of a tropic-island existence a splendid and unfaltering heroism in Grenville, together with a mastery of every situation, months of daily service and devotion, and the rare good looks that Sidney had certainly developed--and what wonder Elaine should be changed? The change in her bearing had struck him at once at the moment of their meeting by the stairs. He had never got past that since. When at length his course was clearly defined and his resolution firmly fixed, it still required skillful maneuvering on Fenton's part to manage the one little climax on which he finally determined. But night, with her shadows, her softening moods, and her veiling ways of comfort, was an ally worthy of his trust. When he finally engineered the unsuspicious Grenville to the upper deck, where Elaine had already been enticed, evasion of the issue was done. "It's amazing," said Fenton, in a pleasant, easy manner, "how I am becoming the talker of the crowd, when both you fond adventurers should be spilling out lectures by the mile. However, such is life." He paused for a moment, but the others did not speak. "The genuine wonder of it all," he presently continued, "is seeing you both come back thus, safe and sound. I underwent my bit of grief when the news of the monstrous disaster finally arrived, as, of course, did many another. I thought I had lost the dearest friend and the--well, the dearest two friends--the dearest two beings in the world to me, in one huge cataclysm." He paused once more and relighted his pipe. The flame of his match threw a rosy glow on the two set faces on either side of his position, as well as on his own. No one looked at anyone else, and the two still failed to answer. "Well--here you both are!" the smoker resumed, crushing the match and throwing it away. "If I were to lose your love and friendship now---- But never mind that--I sha'n't! You were dead to me, both of you, all those months, and mourned rather poignantly. That's the point I want you both to understand--that I had accepted the fact of losing you both, forever." Grenville slightly stirred, but did not speak. Elaine was clasping her hands in her lap and locking her fingers till they ached. "Naturally," Fenton told them, quietly, "I conformed my thoughts to your demise, at last, as we all must do in actual cases. I adjusted my heart-strings, when I could, anew. Nobody else came into my life, to occupy your places, for nobody could. Yet I did adjust things as I've said. Well--now that brings us up to the point." Grenville sank back against his seat, but restlessly leaned forward as before. Elaine alone remained absolutely motionless, rigid with attention, if not also with suppressed excitement at something she felt impending. Fenton thumbed at the glowing tobacco in his pipe. "It appears to me," he continued, "all the circumstances I have mentioned being taken into consideration, that you two friends that I love so well have so many times saved one another's lives that no one living has the slightest right to think or to act as might have been the case if you had not passed so entirely from his ken, and his plans, and daily existence. His claims to your resurrected selves are--different, let us say, or secondary." The silence that fell for a moment became acutely painful. "That's all I'm really driving at, after all my long and labored preamble," Fenton concluded, deliberately rising and facing about to confront the pair on the bench. "I recognize certain inevitable things--and I know they're right--and the way the Almighty intended.... Don't let me lose my friends again.... Let's all be sensible.... I don't ask or expect to be loved the way you love one another--but I'd like to be old Gerald to you both." He turned and went slowly down the narrow stairs, and his pipe trailed a spark behind him. * * * * * After a time, when Grenville moved over and placed his arm about Elaine, she struggled for a moment, feebly. "I don't--I don't love you in the least!" she protested. "I hate you--as I always have--and the way I always shall!" Her arms went swiftly about his neck, however, in a passionate, fierce little hug. She was laughing and crying together. "All right," said Grenville, calmly. "That's the kind of hate I want." He kissed her once on her upturned lips for every hour they had suffered. THE END 
46128	----	available by Internet Archive (https://archive.org) Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original illustrations. See 46128-h.htm or 46128-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/46128/46128-h/46128-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/46128/46128-h.zip) Images of the original pages are available through Internet Archive. See https://archive.org/details/perseveranceisle00frazrich Transcriber's note: Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). [O_] represents a capital O with a line underneath. [Illustration: ABANDONING THE "GOOD LUCK."--_Frontispiece._] PERSEVERANCE ISLAND Or The Robinson Crusoe of the Nineteenth Century by DOUGLAS FRAZAR Author of "Practical Boat Sailing" etc. Illustrated Boston Lee and Shepard Publishers New York Charles T. Dillingham 1885 Copyright, 1884, By Lee and Shepard. All Rights Reserved. PERSEVERANCE ISLAND. ELECTROTYPED BY C. J. PETERS AND SON, BOSTON. To My Wife. PREFACE. In all works of the Robinson Crusoe type, the wreck is always near at hand, the powder dry and preserved, and the days for rafting the same ashore calm and pleasant. This unfortunate had no such accessories; and his story proves the limitless ingenuity and invention of man, and portrays the works and achievements of a castaway, who, thrown ashore almost literally naked upon a desert isle, is able by the use of his brains, the skill of his hands, and a practical knowledge of the common arts and sciences, to far surpass the achievements of all his predecessors, and to surround himself with implements of power and science utterly beyond the reach of his prototype, who had his wreck as a reservoir from which to draw his munitions. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. PAGE Boyhood and youth of the author. Sailor's life. The "Good Luck." South Pacific Island scheme. Loss of crew off Cape Horn. 3 CHAPTER II. Push forward for the Society Islands. Driven into Magellan Straits by stress of weather. Anchor in a land-locked bay. Search for fresh water. Attacked by savages. Serious injuries to Capt. Davis and one of the crew. Return to the schooner and make sail for the open ocean. Resolve to return to England. Finally lay our course for Easter Island. 9 CHAPTER III. Captain Davis's condition. Only five men fit for duty. Terrific storm. The schooner thrown on her beam ends and dismasted. Loss of three more of the crew. Taking to the whale-boat. Foundering of the schooner "Good Luck." Death of Captain Davis. Storm again, running to the southward before the tempest. Strike upon a reef. The author cast on shore. 19 CHAPTER IV. Return to consciousness. Seek for my comrades. Commence a calendar, and take inventory of my effects. 38 CHAPTER V. Attempt to make a fire. Distil salt water. First meal. Reflections. Hat-making. Repose. 45 CHAPTER VI. Build fireplace. Make knife and spear from anchor. Build tower of stones for perpetual lamps. Resolve to explore the island. 56 CHAPTER VII. Improve my lamp-tower. Make a bow and arrow, and fish-hooks and lines. Capture a large turtle. Improve my steel and flint, and build a hut. Procure some salt, and make arrangements to explore the island on the morrow. 65 CHAPTER VIII. Rainy day. Reflections concerning climate, season of the year, tides, etc. Plant several varieties of my seeds. Make a pocket compass, and prepare for my exploration of the island. 73 CHAPTER IX. Exploration of the island: First day. Fresh water at Rapid River. Wild goats, quail, tortoise, tobacco, wild ducks, trout, sweet potatoes, mussels. Name the island and principal points, etc. 85 CHAPTER X. Exploration of the island: Second day. Find coal and sulphur, seals, more turtles, gulls, etc. 96 CHAPTER XI. Exploration of the island: Third day. Stalking goats. Mirror lake and river and bay. Sad moonlight thoughts. 105 CHAPTER XII. Exploration of the island: Fourth day. Finish the exploration of the island, and build stone house at Rapid River. 113 CHAPTER XIII. Make a hatchet of my iron hammer. Make matches and utensils for house. Team of goats, chair, table, etc. Birch-bark canoe. Arrangements for winter. 124 CHAPTER XIV. Make chairs, and arrange my house, seal-skins, and goat-skins. Provide provisions for winter. Discover wild grapes, and make wine and vinegar. Find potassium, or saltpetre. Make gunpowder, and by means of my compass discover iron. Thoughts of the future. 136 CHAPTER XV. Make a mould for bricks. Build a brick-kiln and make bricks. Build a smelting-house, blast-furnace, kiln for cleansing ore. Meditations. Build water-wheel and fan-wheel, and set my machinery for an air-blast to reduce the ore. 151 CHAPTER XVI. Smelt my iron and make Bessemer steel and all kinds of tools. Erect an anvil and forge. Build a saw-mill, and plant a farm and kitchen-garden. 166 CHAPTER XVII. Make an astrolabe, and obtain the latitude of the island, and, by an eclipse of the moon, the longitude also. By means of the Epitome make a chart on Mercator's projection, find out the distance from any known land. 176 CHAPTER XVIII. A resumé of three years on the island. Daily routine of life. Inventions, discoveries, etc. Fortification of the Hermitage. Manufacture of cannon and guns. Perfection and improvement of the machine shop. Implicit faith of ultimately overcoming all obstacles and escaping from the island. Desire to accumulate some kind of portable wealth to carry with me, and desire to explore the island for its hidden wealth and the surrounding ocean for pearl oysters. 189 CHAPTER XIX. Construct a submarine boat, to be propelled by goat power and to make its own air, to examine the bottom of the ocean near the island for pearl oysters. 206 CHAPTER XX. Launch the submarine boat. Experiment with it in Stillwater Cove. 223 CHAPTER XXI. Explore the bottom of the ocean in the vicinity of the island with my submarine boat. Discover pearl oysters and invent a great improvement to my boat. 237 CHAPTER XXII. Manufacture glass. Build a steam yacht, and circumnavigate the island. Lay up large stores of valuable pearls obtained from the pearl oysters. 252 CHAPTER XXIII. Discovery of a human habitation. The skeleton and manuscript. 265 CHAPTER XXIV. The Pirate's manuscript. 277 CHAPTER XXV. Finding of the sunken wreck. The submarine explosion of the hull. Recovery of over ten millions in bars of gold and silver. 295 CHAPTER XXVI. Chess and backgammon playing. Fortification of the island. Team of white swans. Goats as servants, and opponents in backgammon playing. 310 CHAPTER XXVII. Discovery of gold. Turn the stream out of the lake, and build portable engine to separate the gold. 321 CHAPTER XXVIII. The sea serpent. Attack and capture one of the species, thus putting the question of its existence forever at rest. 339 CHAPTER XXIX. Make a balloon and flying machine, in which I make a successful ascension. 349 CHAPTER XXX. The manuscript sent forth. 362 THE MANUSCRIPT. PERSEVERANCE ISLAND, SOUTH PACIFIC. _To the Person who shall find this Manuscript_, GREETING,-- I hope that in the mercy of God these lines may come to the hands of some of my fellow-creatures, and that such action may be taken as may be deemed best to inform the world of my fate and that of my unfortunate comrades; if the finder will, therefore, cause the accompanying account to be published, he will confer a lasting benefit upon his humble servant, ROBINSON CRUSOE, Otherwise called WILLIAM ANDERSON. Everybody must remember the setting out of the schooner "Good Luck" from the Liverpool docks, England, in the summer of 1865, with the advance guard of a colony to be established in the Southern Pacific, on one or more of its numerous islands to be selected; and from that day to this, the non-reception of any news of her from her day of sailing. I am the only survivor of that ill-fated vessel, and record here, in hopes that the manuscript may reach the eyes of those interested, all the facts of the case, and pray that they will speedily send to my relief some vessel to take me home, and permit me once more to gaze upon the faces of my fellow-men before I die. THE FINDING OF THE MANUSCRIPT. SHOTTSVILLE, DELEFERO COUNTY, TEXAS, April 1, 1877. Returning to my home in the evening after a hard day's work on my quarter-section farm, I saw in the twilight an object dangling in the air, and apparently fast to a young walnut sapling. I approached it and found that it was a small balloon of about three feet in diameter, made, I should think, of some kind of delicate skins of beasts or birds sewed cunningly together. Attached in the place where the car should be, I found the manuscript herewith submitted, written on some kind of parchment, which, being taken home and read, I found of such startling interest that I have, although poor, ordered the same published at my expense in hopes that some action may be taken by those whom it may concern to move further in the matter. I further depose that the accompanying manuscript is the original one found by me attached to the balloon, and that it has never been tampered with or allowed to leave my possession till this moment. It can be examined, as well as the balloon, at any time, by any responsible person, by calling upon me. [Signed] REUBEN STANLEY. STATE OF TEXAS, SHOTTSVILLE, DELEFERO COUNTY, S.S. April 1, 1877. Then personally appeared before me the said Reuben Stanley, to me well known, and made oath that the above deposition made by him is true. [Signed] RICHARD HILLANDIER, _Justice of the Peace_. [Illustration: CHART OF PERSEVERANCE ISLAND.] PERSEVERANCE ISLAND; OR, THE ROBINSON CRUSOE OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. CHAPTER I. Boyhood and youth of the author. Sailor's life. The "Good Luck." South Pacific Island scheme. Loss of crew off Cape Horn. I was born in the year 1833, in the State of Vermont, United States of America, and at an early age lost both parents by that fearful scourge, the small-pox. I was an only child, and upon the death of my parents, which happened when I was about six years of age, I was taken charge of by a friendly farmer of a neighboring town, who put me to school for several years in the winter, and at work upon the farm in the summer. I had no known relatives in the wide world, and often felt the bitter pangs of orphanhood. My master was not, however, unkind, and I grew up strong, robust, and with rather a retiring, quiet disposition, with a great love of mechanics and tools. Under all this quietness, however, lurked, I well knew myself, an unappeasable love of adventure and enterprise. I loved to lie in the open fields at night under the full moon; to explore swamps and brooks; and I soon learned to swim in the pond near by. At the age of fourteen I left my master, with his consent, and went to work in a neighboring machine-shop, where castings, etc., were made. I loved all manner of mechanical tools and instruments, and evidently had a taste in that direction. At the age of eighteen I became restless, and, having read during leisure hours many books of adventure and discovery, I took it into my silly head to become a sailor, and upon the inspiration of a moment I packed up my small bundle of clothes, and, bidding good-by to my workmates, started out on foot for Portsmouth, N. H. I arrived there and shipped as green hand in the schooner "Rosa Belle" for Boston, at which port we in due season arrived. From thence I shipped again before the mast in a large, square-rigged vessel for a voyage round the world. It is not my intention here to give a detailed account of my adventurous life till I joined the "Good Luck;" suffice it to say that during fourteen years at sea I passed through all the grades of boy, seaman, able seaman, boatswain, third mate, second mate, and first mate. It was after my discharge from a large clipper ship in Liverpool, lately arrived from China, in the latter capacity, that, having some few hundred dollars by me, I began to look about to see if I could not gain a livelihood in some easier way than by going to sea, being by this time heartily tired of the life, and for want of friends and relations with little chance of rising higher in the profession; it was at this time, I say, that this cursed project of the "Good Luck" was brought to my attention. As fate would have it, the schooner lay in the same dock with ourselves, and I became interested in her by hearing the talk upon the dock that she was bound to the South Pacific Islands to seek for pearls, sandal wood, tortoiseshell, etc., and to establish a colony of which the persons who were going out on this trip were the advance guard and projectors. I remember now, oh! how sadly, the Utopian ideas that were advanced, and although I, as a sailor in those seas, knew many of them to be false, yet imagination proclaimed them true. I could not resist the impulse to join my fortune to theirs. Having made up my mind, I called upon the chief movers in the matter and offered my services. It was first a question with them whether I could subscribe any money to the project, and secondly, what position I desired in the adventure? I satisfied them upon the former, by stating that if I was pleased with their plans I could subscribe four hundred dollars in cash, and my services as a seaman and navigator in those seas. This seemed very satisfactory, and I was then asked, more pointedly, what position I demanded. I said that I should be satisfied with the position of chief officer, and second in command on board of the schooner, and fourth in command on the island as concerned the colony,--that is to say, if their plans suited me, which I demanded to know fully before signing any papers and bound myself by oath not to disclose if, after hearing and seeing everything, I declined to join them. This straightforward course seemed to please the managers, and I was put in full possession of all their plans, and immediately after signed the papers. It is sufficient for me to give an outline of this plan simply, which, through the act of God, came to naught, and left me, a second Robinson Crusoe, on my lonely island. The company was formed of one hundred persons, who each put in one hundred pounds to make a general capital,--except a few like myself, who were allowed a full paid-up share for eighty pounds, on account of being of the advance guard, and wages for our services according to our station, with our proportionate part of the dividends to be hereafter made. With this fund paid in, amounting to about nine thousand eight hundred pounds, the managing committee purchased the schooner "Good Luck." She was a fore-topsail schooner, of one hundred and fifty-four tons measurement, built in Bath, Maine, and about seven years old,--strong, well built, sharp, and with a flush deck fore and aft. She cost two thousand four hundred pounds. The remainder of the money was used in purchasing the following outfit for the scheme we were engaged in:-- Four breech-loading Armstrong cannon, nine pounders, four old-fashioned nine-pounders, twenty-five Sharpe's breech-loading rifles, and twenty-five navy Colt's revolvers, with plenty of ammunition for all. These, in conjunction with boarding-pikes, cutlasses, hand-grenades, and a howitzer for the launch, comprised our armament. The hold was stored with a little of everything generally taken on such adventures,--knives, hatchets, and calico for the natives, and seeds, canned meats, and appliances for pearl fishing, house-building, etc., for ourselves. To these were added a sawmill, an upright steam-engine, a turning-lathe, blacksmith tools, etc. Our plan was to find an island uninhabited, that would form a good centre from which to prosecute our purpose of pearl gathering, and to there establish a colony, sending home the "Good Luck" for the rest of our companions and their families. Ten of us were chosen as the advance guard (all but three being sailors), to make the first venture, establish the colony, load the schooner, leave part of our force upon the island selected, and the remainder to bring back the schooner to Liverpool. "Man proposes, but God disposes." On July 31, 1865, we set sail upon this disastrous voyage, and from that day to this have I never seen the faces of civilized beings except those on board of the schooner, and not those for many months. Our captain was a fine, manly fellow, of about eight and thirty years of age, and we all liked him. Duty on board was of course different than it would have been in a common vessel; and although we had watches and regular discipline, each was familiar with the other, having, as we had, an equal stake in the adventure. We had a tough time off Cape Horn, and, although the "Good Luck" behaved well, it was here that we met with our first misfortune. In stowing the jib, in a gale of wind, preparatory to laying-to, three men were swept overboard, and we never saw them more. This cast a damper upon the remaining seven, and was but a precursor of what was yet to happen. We rounded Cape Horn the first part of October, and, steering northwest, soon reached more pleasant weather. Our course was towards the group of islands, so well known in the South Pacific, called the Society Islands. CHAPTER II. Push forward for the Society Islands. Driven into Magellan Straits by stress of weather. Anchor in a land-locked bay. Search for fresh water. Attacked by savages. Serious injuries to Capt. Davis and one of the crew. Return to the schooner and make sail for the open ocean. Resolve to return to England. Finally lay our course for Easter Island. We had proceeded but a very short way towards the Society Islands when a terrific storm arose from the westward, driving us back upon the coast of South America. We lay to for many days, bending down before the blast, and drifting all the time rapidly to the southward and eastward; till one morning we discovered land broad off our lee beam, and, by a forenoon observation which the captain obtained, we found that we were off the western opening of the Straits of Magellan, and we soon put the schooner's head before the howling blast and ran in for shelter, rest, and repairs. We came up with the land very rapidly under easy sail, and passed the frowning cliffs and rocks on our port hand, not over a mile distant, as we knew we had plenty of water and to spare. After having passed the opening we hauled the schooner up on the port tack, heading her well up to the northward, intending to find some quiet land-locked cove where we could anchor and repair the damages--small in detail, but quite grave in the aggregate--that we had received in our buffeting of the last ten days. About eight bells in the forenoon we found ourselves well inside the land, and with a smooth sea and a good fair working breeze, we kept the land well on the port beam and gradually crawled in toward it. At about 4 P. M. we estimated that we were twenty miles inside the headlands, and having come to an arm of a bay trending well to the northward, we hauled the schooner sharp on a wind and steered into it; we discovered soon that it was about ten miles deep and thirty wide as near as we could judge; and as we came toward the head of the bay we found that we could run into a small inner bay of about three miles in area, with evidently smooth water and good anchorage. Into this inner bay or anchorage we quietly sailed and let go an anchor in six fathoms of water, and at a distance of about one mile from the shore. When the sails were all properly furled, and everything put in "ship-shape and Bristol fashion," as the saying is amongst sailors, we had time to look about us; and the motion of the vessel having ceased, and the creaking of the masts and cordage, the flapping of the sails, and the usual noises of the sea, having come to an end, we were struck with the awful and sublime solitude of our surroundings. By this time the moon had risen, and by its light we saw the shadowy shapes of monstrous cliffs and miniature headlands covered with tangled forests of a species of pine, mirrored in the little bay in which we hung at anchor; but not one sound of life, no lights on shore, no cry of bird or beast, but the depressing, awful solitude of an unknown land; no noise except the graceful rise of the "Good Luck" to the miniature waves of the bay as she lay at anchor with twenty fathoms of chain out. We all spoke in whispers, so awe-striking was the scenery, and when we set the anchor watch and turned in it was unanimously conceded that we had little to fear in landing on the morrow either from natives or wild beasts. Glad enough were we, after our long fight with the stormy ocean, to turn into our berths. It was chilly, although now past the middle of October, yet we saw no snow upon the ground, and the air had the smell of spring and verdure. This was easily accounted for when we remembered that in reality we were in the latter part of April as to seasons, and that we were no further south, than Great Britain is north, as concerns latitude. No doubt, also, the climate was favorably affected by this great arm of salt water penetrating the land. At any rate we had nothing to complain of on the score of ice and snow, which we should have found in plenty had we arrived a month or two earlier. Our captain had some very good traits, and was very systematic. For instance, he said that he would never allow a boat to leave the vessel to visit the shore, to be gone even an hour, without being properly rationed, and with flint, steel, and tinder, and also two large tin canisters filled with garden seeds. He had a hobby that it was our duty to plant seeds in all of the out-of-the-way places that we visited, for the good of those who might come after us. Carrying out these ideas, he had had our whaleboat on deck--whilst we were running by the land--righted and filled with the above-named articles, ready for use in the morning; that is to say, he had ordered to be put on board of her cooked rations for six days for four men, two breakers of fresh water, one bag of hard tack, a compass, two large tin canisters with water-tight screw-heads, filled with peas, beans, cucumber seeds, one hatchet, one knife, and a spare coil of rope. The next morning, when we arose, there was a general desire to land upon the unknown coast, and we bethought ourselves of the plan of drawing lots to see who should stay on board and who go ashore, as the vessel would need the care of at least three hands, leaving four of us to go in the boat. Lots were drawn, and the privilege of going in the boat fell upon Captain Davis, two of the sailors, and myself. I was overjoyed at the opportunity of exploring this new world. Captain Davis told us to arm ourselves well with rifles and revolvers, and to be in readiness to start after breakfast, sharp. No pleasanter party ever shoved off from a vessel's side than we on that pleasant October morning. We soon reached the shore, and, pulling up the boat upon the beach, were soon roaming here and there, stretching our legs and enjoying the novelty of our position. It was evident that the place was a complete solitude, and we doubted if any civilized persons had ever visited the shores of the bay before. We wanted most of all things a supply of fresh water, and to this end we wandered somewhat apart and towards the upper part of the bay, concealed by overjetting cliffs, to see if there was not some stream or river flowing into it. After a little we heard a cry of delight from a comrade in advance, and hastening toward him found that after turning a short and abrupt point of rocks, a river of some considerable width lay before our eyes, evidently navigable with a small boat for some miles, but, as far as the eye could extend, no sign of any habitation. We ran gayly back to the boat, launched her, and soon pulled round the overhanging cliff that had concealed the presence of the river from us. I should judge that we had pulled some five or six miles when we began to get hungry, and thought by the sun that it was about noon, and that we would land and eat our dinner. Up to this time we had found no side brook or spring entering the main river, and each turn was so enticing that we kept on passing bend after bend. We landed upon a nice sandy beach, and soon had a pot boiling, and some clams, of which there were vast quantities in the sand, cooking upon hot stones. We made a capital meal, and after a good smoke took our oars again and went on up the river. Shall I ever forget the ending of that pleasant day? As we were chatting and passing a bend, and opening a new reach, in one moment of time our ears were filled with awful shrieks and shouts, and we had become the centre of a perfect shower of missiles from the cliff underneath the base of which we had just passed. Our first instinct was to drop our oars and grasp the firearms, and a dropping, irregular fire into the bushes at the foot of the bend and towards the higher cliff towering above us brought to a sudden cessation the shower of stones with which we had been assailed, and with wild cries of fear, pain, and awe these untutored savages fled into the dense forest behind them. I was amazed at the ease with which we had repelled them, until I bethought me that probably our firearms were the first they had ever heard. I wondered why we had not fired more, and quicker, and turning my eyes from their disappearing bodies, I saw, with horror, the cause. Captain Davis lay in the stern sheets of the boat with a large stone across both legs, dropped evidently from the cliff, which was some twenty or thirty feet above us, upon them. He had fainted away, or else was dead from some other wound, for he did not offer to stir or remove the stone. I glanced towards my other two comrades, and found, upon examination, one with a serious fracture of the left arm, which, however, did not prevent his holding on to his revolver in a most determined manner, and the other with only a few slight bruises. I beckoned him to come aft and help lift the stone off the captain's legs, we did so, and threw water in his face to revive him. We dared not imagine how bad his injuries were, and left him lying as we found him, after throwing overboard the stone, which undoubtedly would have gone through the bottom of the boat and sunk us, if it had not encountered the legs of the captain in its descent. As for our other comrade, we bound up his arm as best we could. I felt dizzy and weak, but did not suspect any serious injury. All that I have written was performed quickly, as sailors always act in an emergency. Bill Thompson and I soon got the boat's head pointed down stream, and the way we pulled for the ship was a sight to behold; pausing once in awhile to lift a hand and explode a revolver to keep the savages from attacking us again; but they had evidently had enough of it, for we saw no signs of them, and after a long and arduous pull we came to the ship's side, and sad was the news that we had for our comrades. We slung the boat and hoisted her on board, and I ordered the anchor to be weighed at once, and we set sail from this treacherous bay. It was found upon examination that one of the captain's legs was broken, evidently a compound fracture, and the other much bruised and inflamed. He was carried with care and affection to his stateroom, and I took charge of the deck. The sailor's arm was found to be a simple fracture, and we soon had it in splints and himself in his berth. After the schooner was fairly under way and heading out of the bay, I went below to my stateroom, and found that I had received several severe blows, but none that had drawn blood, except in the back of my head, where I found the hair under my cap bloody and matted together. This it was that had made me dizzy, although my excitement had been so great that I could not fix where the pain was till all was over. I washed myself, and went on deck again, to remain there during the night and run the schooner out into the open sea. What thoughts passed through my brain as the little vessel gallantly slipped along by the land, towards the ocean!--what in the world were we to do should Captain Davis die, and where were we to recruit, for during the long watches of that night it was agreed that we had become too short handed to prosecute our enterprise, and that the best thing that we could do would be to make our way back to England and start afresh; but after a long consultation, it was acknowledged that we were in no condition to face Cape Horn, and that we must get somewhere to recruit before we dare attempt the passage home. The captain, who had his senses perfectly, although suffering bodily pain, said "that we must make one of the easterly of the Society Islands before attempting to go home, and there recruit ourselves, overhaul the vessel, and by that time he should know what he was to expect of his own health, but feared that his injuries were beyond mortal aid." Towards morning the open sea appeared ahead, and at about eight bells, we issued from the mouth of Magellan Straits, and I laid the course of the schooner northwest, so as to hit Easter Island, or some of the islands further to the westward should the wind haul. At two bells in the forenoon we were bowling along on our course with everything set, and a fine working breeze from north-northeast, and a smooth sea. Of course we talked over the disastrous trip of the day before, and, as in all such cases, wondered why we did not do so and so, and why we were not more careful, etc., but to what good. The deed was done: our comrade with his broken arm, and our captain with his broken leg, were mute reminders of our folly and carelessness. My greatest fear at this time was that we should lose the captain, and that his duties would devolve upon me. He seemed throughout this day slightly better, but upon examination we found that we could not set his leg as we had the sailor's arm, and that, although he complained of little pain, his leg had a puffed and swollen appearance, and I feared the worst. I was somewhat in favor of changing the course and making a port on the South American coast; but the captain would not hear of it. He said "you can at least get to the Society Islands and land your cargo in some port under some flag where it will be safely kept till you return to England for a new crew. I shall not get well any sooner, if at all, on the South American coast than I shall in the Society Islands. We are bound by honor to push the adventure to its legitimate end, or as near it as possible." This and many other convincing things were uttered by him. "If my leg should have been amputated it should have been done before this; and it will be too late to do anything at Santiago as well as at Easter Island. You can still do a great deal towards making the adventure a success; perhaps you can even get volunteers enough in the islands to fill up your ranks, so as not to have to go back to England till you have your headquarters established and a cargo ready to ship back." And thus this sick and dying man cheered us on. The end of the day found us with a still fresh working breeze headed for Easter Island. [Illustration: CAPTAIN DAVIS WOUNDED.--PAGE 14.] CHAPTER III. Captain Davis's condition. Only five men fit for duty. Terrific storm. The schooner thrown on her beam ends and dismasted. Loss of three more of the crew. Taking to the whale-boat. Foundering of the schooner "Good Luck." Death of Captain Davis. Storm again, running to the southward before the tempest. Strike upon a reef. The author cast on shore. The next fifteen or twenty days passed over us without anything material interfering with our advancement towards the islands. During this time the change in the condition of Captain Davis had become worse; and we could all see that he was failing surely but rapidly; the sailor with the broken arm, on the other hand, was every day gaining strength and health, and bid fair to be soon amongst us again and at work. Bill Thompson and myself had fully recovered from the bruises and blows that we had received, and were in excellent health. The duty at this time was rather exhaustive, as there were only five of us, including myself, fit for duty, and our turn at the wheel came about pretty often, as we, being so short-handed, had each to take our "trick." Our vessel was small, to be sure, and easily handled, but reduced, as we were, to five men, it was no boy's play to manage her. In the first place, it needed a man at the helm night and day; then there was the cooking to be taken charge of; and at night the lookout man on the forecastle; these were three imperative duties which admitted of no change or neglect, and, divided amongst five persons, and including the watches at night, gave us plenty to do and to think of. On November 5 we went about our usual duties in the morning, washing down the decks, and making everything snug and cleanly, as seamen like to see things. At noon I was able to get a good observation of the sun, which gave us lat. 40° 89' 12'' S., and longitude by two forenoon observations by chronometer, 112° 5' 54'' W. from Greenwich. The wind had for the last two weeks steadily hauled ahead, and we had been close-hauled and often unable to lay our course, hence I found the schooner much too far to the southward, but with her longitude well run down, and it was my purpose to decrease our latitude, even if we had to stand on the other tack to the northward and eastward. We were about fifteen hundred miles to the westward of the Straits of Magellan, which was not a bad run for a small vessel of the size of the "Good Luck;" especially when it was to be remembered that we had also made several degrees (about ten) of northing, in latitude. The afternoon shut down cloudy and threatening, and I hastened to the cabin to consult the barometer; I found no great change, but marked it with the side regulator, so as to be able to see if there was any sudden change within the next hour or two. At about eight bells (4 P. M.) the wind shifted suddenly to about N. N. W., and then died away and left us bobbing about in a heavy cross-sea, with dark, dirty weather to the northward and westward, but with little or no wind. I examined the barometer again, and to my dismay saw that the mercury had fallen rapidly since my last visit. Everything about us showed that we were about to catch it, and although I knew that we were out of the track of typhoons and cyclones, still we were evidently about to experience a heavy gale of wind; the admonitions of nature were too evident and palpable to be misunderstood. I called all hands, and we went to work with a will to put the schooner in order for the coming blast. We soon had the foretopsail lowered on the cap, close reefed, and then furled to the yard. We then took two reefs in the mainsail, and reefed and then stowed the foresail; got the bonnet off the jib, and the outer jib furled. Under this short sail we awaited the coming of the inevitable. First, the day grew darker, and was overcast with clouds of inky blackness; then came the mysterious sobbing and moaning of the ocean that all sailors have experienced; then the jerky and uneven motion of the schooner on the heavy swells for want of enough wind to keep her canvas full and herself steady. Finally, towards evening, the pent-up storm came madly down upon us from the N. N. W., where it had been so long gathering its strength and forces. We laid the schooner's head to the westward and awaited the blast. Oh! if we only could have had wind enough to have gotten steerage-way upon her, so as to have luffed up into the howling blast, I might have been spared writing this narrative; but lying, as we were, almost dead upon the waste of water, we were compelled to receive the blast in all its strength, not being able to yield an atom to it. We had done all that men could do, except to await the result and trust in the mercy of God. I do not think that there was very much fear as to the result; there was a certain anxiety, however; but sailors never believe that wind or sea can hurt them till it does so. We expected to be struck hard, and to suffer some damage; but I think no one on board of that schooner had the slightest idea of the shock that we were about to receive. As the storm, or rather advance whirlwind, approached, we took our different stations and awaited the result. It came upon us with a crash, and in spite of all our care and skill the foretopmast went over the side, followed by the jibboom and maintopmast, as if the whole fabric had been made of paper, and the schooner was thrown violently upon her beam-ends. We lowered away the mainsail halyards, and, by cutting away the wreck to leeward, finally got her head before the wind, when she righted, and we dashed off before the tempest with nothing set but the jib, the mainsail having blown out of the bolt-ropes. Black night shut down upon us like a pall, and sheets of rain and spray fell upon us in torrents; thunder and lightning played about us, lighting up the decks one moment as bright as noonday, and the next leaving us in the most intense darkness, with a feeling about the eyes as if they had been burned up in their sockets. After the "Good Luck" once got started she did pretty well, scudding before it, but the forward sail was too small for the tremendous sea getting up astern of us; and we were in deadly peril of being pooped, and feared it each moment. We could set no square sail, everything forward above the foretop having been carried away; and we had no means of hoisting the foresail, even if we had dared to set it, as the peak-halyards had been carried away with the fall of the topmast, and we could not repair them; so all we could do was to fasten down the companion-way and trust to luck in letting her run before it under the jib. I thought that I had seen it blow before, but such a gale as this I never experienced; the voice of the tempest howled so through the rigging that you could not hear the faintest sound of the human voice in its loudest tones. I stood at the wheel, after helping to cut away the wreck, aiding the man at the helm through that long and awful night. We lashed ourselves to the rail and rudder-head; and well was it that we did so, for we were repeatedly pooped, and large masses of water came in over the stern, and rushed forward over the decks, that would have carried us to a watery grave if we had not been lashed to our post. My comrade Bill Thompson and I had no means of knowing whether the others forward had fared as well as we, or had been swept overboard by the repeated invasions of the sea. Before we had been able to cut clear from the wreck we had received several severe blows from the timbers alongside, how severe I had no means of judging as yet, but my great fear was that we had started a butt or been seriously injured by these floating spars before we had been able to get rid of them. About two bells (1 A. M.) as near as we could judge, the thunder and lightning ceased; and the puffs of wind were less and less violent, so that it was easy for us to feel confident that the strength of the gale had passed us. At eight bells (4 A. M.) there was a great difference both in the sea and wind; the former was no longer to be feared, and the latter was fast dying out. With what anxiety did we watch for the first light of day,--hours of agony unknown to those who have never led a sailor's life. As the gray of the morning began to come upon us, both wind and sea abated more and more, till in the full light of the morning we lay a dismantled wreck upon the waste of waters, with scarcely wind enough for a fair topsail breeze, and the seas momentarily going down. My first care was to rush into the cabin, and to the locker, and pounce upon some food, and my next to carry some to my companion at the wheel. After this I looked around me to take in our situation. The foremast was gone near the head, the foreyard had evidently parted in the slings, and the foretopmast, topsail, and hamper, all gone together over the port bow. Bill Thompson and I both strained our eyes for a view of some of our companions forward, but not a living soul met our gaze. I descended into the cabin, and found the captain and the sailor with the wounded arm doing as well as could be supposed after such a night of horrors. Captain Davis was evidently much weaker and much worse. I gave them an outline of the misfortunes that had overtaken us, and then went forward with a beating heart to the companion-way, threw it open, and passed into the forecastle and found it empty; not one soul left of three gallant fellows to tell the story of their swift destruction. The repeated poopings that we had received during the night must have swept them into the sea. I passed on deck, and thence aft. I noticed that the cook's galley was gone, and the bulwarks on the starboard side, and all the boats, except our whaleboat, which, although full of water, still remained pinned down to the deck by the lashings across her frame to the numerous ringbolts. As I walked aft, I could not but think that the schooner seemed low in the water; but I for the moment put it down to her changed appearance on account of the loss of her bulwarks. By this time the sun had risen and as beautiful and mild a day as one might desire to see burst upon us. I relieved Thompson at the wheel, and the wounded sailor soon took it with his one arm; the vessel scarcely moving through the water with the light air now stirring. I went below for the sounding-rod, and hastened to the well, as I knew we must have made much water during the storm, and I prayed to God that it might be no worse. I pulled out the pump-bucket and inserted the rod, it came back to the deck, marking at least FIVE FEET of water in the hold. I struggled one moment with my emotion, and then, turning to my companions, I said, "Get Captain Davis on deck; clear away the whaleboat; this vessel, curse her, is doomed. She will not float one hour; she has started a butt." Amazement was depicted upon the faces of my companions; but, sailor-like, they hastened to obey my commands. We went into the cabin, and with infinite care and solicitude lifted the captain out of his berth and carried him to the deck. We then gathered round the whaleboat, relieved her from her slings and fastenings, tipped her over upon the deck, and got out all the water, and righted her, and then launched her over the starboard side through the broken bulwarks, and, putting her in charge of the broken-armed sailor, let her drop astern by her painter. We commenced at once rummaging for stores; and out of a mass of stuff brought on deck I ordered the following into the boat (the spritsail and oars were already lashed to the thwarts): Two half casks of fresh water, one bag of hard tack, one bag of uncooked salt junk, a fishing-line and hooks, a pair of blankets, some canned meats, a compass, charts and quadrant, a Nautical Almanac, Bowditch's Epitome, and a very valuable book of my own, a Compendium of Useful Arts and Sciences, a few pounds of tea and coffee, four tin canisters containing garden-seed, matches, two rifles and four revolvers, and ammunition for the same; this, with the usual clothing of the men, was as much as I dared load the boat with; and, pulling her up alongside, we lowered the captain on board on a mattress, and proceeded to stow away the articles I have enumerated in as good order as possible. We stepped the spritsail forward and unlashed the oars, and got the steering oar out aft through the becket made for that purpose. I feasted my eyes upon the treasures round about me, but had sense enough not to allow the boat to be overloaded with trash, so as to swamp us in the first gale of wind. Having got everything on board, and carefully noted the day of the month, November 6th, in the Nautical Almanac, we cast off from the unlucky "Good Luck," and set our sail to keep near her till her final destruction took place, which to our practised eyes could not long be postponed, as she was evidently in the throes of death. We found that she was making so little headway on account of the light breeze, and from having settled so deep in the water, that we took in our sail and lay to upon our oars at a safe distance and watched her. [Illustration: LAUNCHING THE WHALE BOAT.--PAGE 26.] Could anything be more miserable than our condition? Four unfortunate men, two of whom were crippled, one probably to the death, cast on the open ocean in an open boat, at least a thousand miles from any known land. I thought of all the open-boat exposures of which I had ever read; of Lieutenant Bligh and the "Bounty," and others equally startling. I shuddered when I thought what our fate might be. I ran through, in my mind, the rapid events that had followed each other since our departure from England, and the unexplainable series of fatalities that had robbed us of our comrades till we remained only the little group now seated in this frail boat. In what direction should we steer? what was to be our fate? what had God still in store for us in the shape of misfortune and horror? It seemed as if the bitter cup had been full to overflowing, and that we had drained it to the very dregs. I was awakened from my day-dream by the voices of my comrades, who drew my attention, without speech, by pointing to the doomed vessel. We lifted Captain Davis in our arms, and with fixed eyes and set teeth saw the misnamed schooner drive her bows under the water, and then shortly after, majestically raising her forefoot high in air, sink down grandly into the abyss of ocean, leaving us poor unfortunates adrift upon its treacherous bosom. After we had seen the last of the schooner we gathered together for consultation as to our course. It was demonstrated by the chart that we were much nearer to Easter Island than to any other land, say some eight hundred miles distant by projection. But, on the other hand, the wind hung persistently from the northward and placed us to leeward of our port. It was too far to think of standing back to the South American coast, and we felt that we must keep a northwesterly course, and if the wind headed us off from Easter Island, that we could at least fetch some of the more westerly of the Society Group. Having decided upon this, we set our foresail and laid our course about W. by N., which was as high as the wind would allow us to lie. The day was pleasant and the wind light, and the sea quiet. I inaugurated at once a system of daily allowance, and for this first day we were to issue no rations, we all having had at least, although coarse and interrupted, one meal and plenty of water, before leaving the schooner. The days were growing perceptibly longer and warmer, and we ran all that afternoon quietly along over quite a smooth sea, making good headway to the westward, but little northing, which I was so anxious to make. As the sun went down Captain Davis, although very weak, called us all aft around him and, in a faint voice on the lonely ocean, from memory repeated for us all the Lord's Prayer; the loneliness of our situation and the solemnity of the occasion remain vividly in my mind to this day. We all saw that we must soon lose our captain, but no one dared to say as much to his neighbor; we could plainly see that his hours were few, and that the motion and exposure of the boat could not be endured by him much longer. After the sun went down I took the steering oar aft, and telling the men to lie down and get all the rest they could, I kept the boat on her course and seated myself near the captain, stretched on his mattress at my feet. At about ten o'clock, as near as I could judge, after a long and absolute silence, I heard Captain Davis utter my name. I bent down towards him, and he said, "Do not be shocked. I am soon, very soon, about to depart, the sands of life have almost run out, and I am weary and want to be at rest in the Haven of Repose. If you ever get back to England, tell them that I did my duty faithfully. I, as you know, have no wife or child to mourn for me, but I want you all to remember me as a just captain, with all my faults. I have no fear of being buried in the sea; God can find me anywhere at the great day, when we shall all be mustered on the quarter-deck for inspection, and, if worthy, promotion. If you are driven out of your course, keep to the westward still, and you will eventually find land. Say a prayer or two over my body when you commit me to the deep; and now wake up the men and let me say good-by to them, for I am going fast." I called up the men, and the two poor fellows came aft and shook the hand of our captain in sore distress; and we sat watching, unwilling to sleep or break the silence of that solemn moment. In about an hour Captain Davis opened his eyes, that had been closed, raised his arm slowly to his head, touched an imaginary hat, and said, "Come on board to report for duty, Sir,"--and passed away like a child dropping to sleep. We covered the body with our spare clothing, and each sat in sad reflection. Bill Thompson soon after relieved me at the oar, and I laid down in the forward part of the boat and tried to sleep; and such was exhausted nature that, in spite of our unfortunate condition, I soon dropped off. I was awakened early in the morning by a slight call from Bill, and sat up in the boat, rather bewildered for a moment, till I saw the outline of the body in the stern sheets, and then everything flashed back to my memory. I have little doubt but what that sleep saved me for the purposes that God has preserved me for to this day. It was thought best to dispose of the body before the full breaking of the day, and we for that purpose gathered around the remains, and, in compliance with the dead man's request, I recited the Lord's Prayer, and we committed the body to the deep. This event produced a new shock to our already overstrained systems, and we looked sadly enough upon each other with almost vacant eyes. We as yet were blessed with pleasant weather, and, although we were not heading up to our course, we were making westing quite fast. This day, November 7th, we passed without any remarkable event. As there were now only three of us left we found plenty of room in the boat to lie down at our ease, and it only took one of us to steer and look after the boat. We rearranged everything, and stowed all our articles in convenient places. So far, we had seen no signs of vessel or land, and we passed the day in sleeping and refreshing ourselves for whatever the future might have in store for us. The night was quiet and the stars shone down upon us with their silvery light, and we used them to keep our course by, having no light to see the compass in the night-time. Towards eight o'clock in the morning of the 8th the weather began to change, and large clouds to gather in the northern horizon; it was at this time that we made another discovery, and that was that one of the breakers of water had leaked out quietly till there was scarcely enough in it for our rations for that morning; this was caused by its not having been used for some time before we filled it on board of the ship. This discovery caused us great uneasiness, and although the breaker had evidently ceased leaking now, having swollen with the water placed in it, it was no longer useful, as we had no water to replace that which was lost. The weather to windward caused me great disquietude, and I was sadly afraid, in case of a blow, that my Nautical Almanac and Epitome and Compendium would be destroyed, either by rain or seas that we might ship. I bethought me, therefore, of copying off the declination of the sun for a few days, and the tables that I might want to use, on a spare leaf of the Epitome, and take out the head of the now useless breaker and enclose all the books and charts in it and head it up. This was accordingly done. We started the hoops, took out the head, put the books and charts in, carefully wrapped up in a piece of blanket, and replaced the head and closed up the bung-hole. I felt relieved after this, as I looked upon the preservation of my books as of the utmost importance in our future navigation, and I could think of no greater loss to people in our condition than to have them lost or destroyed. It was with infinite satisfaction that I saw them thus safely preserved from the water till I could again take them out in good weather and examine and copy from them. Whilst we had been busy at this task the weather to windward was fast becoming bad and threatening. I dealt out a fair ration of hard tack and canned meat to my two comrades, and then ordered them to take the sprit out of the foresail, and bring the peak down to the foot of the mast, and lash it to the inner leach of the sail, and fasten what was before the after leach to the foot; so as to make a sort of double leg-of-mutton sail, with the body low down and along the boom. We labored with a will at our work, for the freshening breeze was fast coming down upon us, and at twelve o'clock, as I judge, we were plunging along quite well for so small a boat, in about half a gale of wind, which allowed us to head up as high as N. N. W. The sea, however, was getting up fast, and I foresaw that unless it moderated we should have to bear away and run before it. As I feared, we now commenced to take in considerable water, which, although not in dangerous quantities, gave us work to do in the shape of bailing with the empty meat cans, whilst the attention of one was needed without remission at the steering oar and sheet. We were, thank God, blessed with that best of seaboats, a Nantucket whaleboat; and although she was low in the water, she was also buoyant, and rode the waves better than could be expected of any other craft of her size. I felt, too, that we could at any time make easy weather of it by scudding or running before the wind, for which she was admirably fitted, being sharp at both ends, and therefore in no danger of being pooped; but this was the last thing that I desired to do, as it would take us from our course towards the islands and far to the southward, as such a boat would make rapid way before the wind, with even this small sail. At about two o'clock the wind hauled more to the westward and headed us off to the southward. At three o'clock we had broken off to S. W., and the wind increasing, and the sea getting up fast, so fast that I already had to let the boat go very free before it, to keep her from being swamped. At sundown the gale had greatly increased, and I found that to preserve us, and on account of the steady change of the wind, that I was compelled to steer about S. by W., and to allow ourselves to run before the tempest. As the darkness set down upon us like a pall, I gave ourselves up as lost. I clung to the steering-oar and guided the boat before the wind; the only clew that was given me how to steer was the angry roar of the combing billows astern and the rush of the wind by the side of my face: by these two senses of hearing and feeling, I was enabled to tell when the boat was about to broach to, which would have been destruction, and how to steer so as to keep her before the wind. The darkness was the darkness of the ocean in a storm, and torrents of rain and spray flew over us. I was unable to see an atom of even the sail ahead of me in the boat. And thus we plunged on, into the inky darkness, followed by the angry roar of the disappointed waves that we left astern. We were moving with frightful rapidity through the water; but in what direction I had no means of knowing. I clung to the steering-oar, and my companions to their bailers; how many hours we thus rushed along I know not. I had become hardened to the situation, and the angry roar astern had become a familiar noise in my ears. I commenced to people the darkness with vessels, islands, sunlight, and music; I had long ceased to care what fate might have in store for me; I felt that the night must be nearly passed, and wondered whether we should survive to see the daylight. I dreamed, and became semi-unconscious, but still guided the boat onward before the wind. I felt that nature could not be sustained much longer, and that in a few hours I must succumb. My comrades pottered round at my feet, their efforts to bail becoming more and more feeble. I was in this reckless, half-dazed state when, without one moment's warning, I was thrown with a crash into the forward end of the boat, and in another instant surrounded by pieces of the boat and floating débris. I found myself hurled rapidly forward by an incoming wave, and rolled over and over some hard substance; the next instant the retreating wave found me clinging to a mass of what was evidently land of some kind, and the sea already had a faint, distant sound to my ears. The next incoming wave dashed over some evident obstacle between me and it, and I clung to the object at which I had first clutched, ready to receive it. I was buried beneath it, but managed to keep my hold, and, as it retreated, the noise again became fainter, and it flashed over me that, by the first wave, I had been washed over some reef or barrier between the open ocean and where I now hung, and that each wave was broken by this barrier before reaching me. Before the next wave came I had gained my feet, and felt that I was standing upon rocky ground, and clutching masses of rock-weed in each hand. I was again buried, but hung on with desperation till the wave had retired. Evidently I had been washed over the reef; but what was to leeward of me. By a sailor's instinct I knew that it was smooth water, and that I had at least a rocky barrier between me and the raging ocean outside. Every wave did not submerge me, but most of them did, and I felt that it was only a question of a few moments more how long I could hold on before trusting myself to swimming to leeward. O for some knowledge of what lay behind me. One flash of lightning, one speck of God's blessed daylight! Was there land behind me? or should I let go my last hold upon life when I unclasped my hands from the rock-weed that they held to? My brain worked with lightning-like rapidity. I knew that I must not hang on to this reef, submerged every few moments, till all my strength was gone, so that I could not swim; this was to seek certain death; whereas, in letting go and swimming to leeward I had one chance to be saved. _If_ there was land, it no doubt could be easily approached on account of the sea being stopped by the barrier to which I now clung. On the other hand, if the land to which I now hung was the only land, and the pitiless sea alone to leeward, then God have mercy upon my soul! I must do something. Although used to swimming and diving, I could not stand this submersion much longer, and my arms were fast giving out; therefore, when the next wave came, I let go my hold, and crying out, in my despair, "Oh, help me, Lord!" allowed myself to be carried away with it. In a moment I felt that my conjectures about smooth water had been correct. I swam without difficulty, in comparatively smooth water, encumbered only by my clothes. Should I find land before me? Oh, for light! Hark! did I hear the break of water upon land before me? and so near. Down went my feet, and I found myself standing in water not up to my armpits. The revulsion was terrible. I fell into the water, and scrambling, fighting, fainting, plunged forward till I found myself safe on shore and at some distance from the water, when I fell down unconscious on the sand. CHAPTER IV. Return to consciousness. Seek for my comrades. Commence a calendar, and take inventory of my effects. How long I lay unconscious where I had scrambled and fallen down I shall never know, but when I awoke and stared around me, I found that it was broad daylight, and, by the sun, at least eleven or twelve o'clock in the day. I gazed around me and tried to collect my thoughts, and the horrors of the preceding night came slowly back to my memory. I arose and stretched my limbs, and with the exception of some stiffness in my joints, and bruises that were not of a serious nature, I found myself all right. I fell upon my knees and devoutly thanked God for my deliverance, and then arose and looked around me. I found myself standing on a smooth, sandy beach, which, by the sun, evidently ran nearly, if not quite, east and west; a narrow strip of water not more than a short quarter of a mile separated me from the reef over which I had evidently been swept the previous night. To my right hand, as I stood facing the north, ran a level beach of a mile or so in extent, ending in an elevation and hills at the extreme end, faced, its entire length, as far as I could see, by this natural breakwater or reef in front of me. To the left I discerned an opening to the sea about one mile distant; and beyond, low land extending for several miles, and ending in a promontory of some elevation. Turning about, I saw behind me, running down almost to the sandy beach, a grove of trees, with many of which I was familiar, and wooded higher land in the background. My nautical knowledge told that there was no known land in this part of the world. Where was I? Where were my companions in the boat? Was the island inhabited by savages? Had I been saved to become their prey? All these questions rushed through my mind, but were unanswerable. I began to feel faint and sick with thirst, hunger, and fatigue, and devoured with an unappeasable curiosity to know the fate of my comrades; and to this end, I stripped off my clothing and waded into the water towards the reef over which I had so providentially been cast. I found the water shallow and with a pure, sandy bottom, and had only to swim a few rods to regain my feet again, and be able to reach the breakwater. With what intense excitement, fierce but restrained, I climbed the rocks, and gazed upon the open sea, you who have never been cast away, from home, kindred, and society can never know. I looked about me upon the rocks, and at the treacherous sea, now as smooth and smiling as a sleeping infant. In vain did I search for any traces of my comrades. Not a sign of them was to be seen. Now that the storm had gone down, this breakwater of rocks stood several feet above the sea, irregular in width and height. By aligning myself on the place on shore where I had landed, and whence I had come, I felt sure that I must be near the spot where the boat had struck. I passed a little farther to the right, and came upon the scene of my disaster. Upon the rocks I found small portions of the boat, broken to atoms not larger than my hand, but no friend, no comrade, no living soul to cheer my despair. I saw in a very few minutes that if they had not been swept over the reef at the very first sea, as I had been, they had inevitably been washed back again into the ocean, dashed amongst the rocks, and sucked in by the undertow, never more to be seen by man. A very few moments' examination convinced me that such must have been the case. But one single chance remained, and that was, if they were swept over the reef as I was, if alive, their tracks would show on the sand of the shore behind me. I did not have the slightest faith in this, but saved it in my mind to be proved when I returned to the shore. Striving to put the horror of my position far from me, and trying to see if there was anything to be saved that could be useful to me in my miserable condition, I began to look about me in the crevices of the rocks for any small article that might have escaped the maw of the ocean. In about an hour's search I had gathered the following together, which was every atom that seemed to remain of the boat and her appurtenances,--the remainder had evidently been ground into powder against the rocks, and hurled back with the retiring waves into the insatiable ocean: One piece of boat-planking, about nine feet long and ten inches wide, which I preserved on account of its containing several nails which had bolted it to the keelson; one tin meat-can that we had used as a bailer, somewhat bent, which I found securely jammed in a crevice of the rock; one canister of preserved meat, thrown by the sea into a sort of natural cavity or pocket in the rocks; and last, the most important of all, the boat's anchor and rope cable, which had washed across the reef and hung with the end in the quiet waters of the inner bay. I grasped it and coiled it up, following it to the outer side of the reef, whence I pulled up the anchor, and found myself in possession of it and some twenty fathoms of good inch-and-three-quarter manilla rope. This constituted all my earthly fortunes, and, placing the anchor and rope and the empty meat canister and the full one upon the piece of boat-planking, which just barely supported them when submerged in the water, I thrust them carefully before me towards the other shore, and, getting too deep to wade, I guided them with one hand and pushed them before me till, again touching bottom with my feet, I soon had them on land, safe and sound, at the place where I had first landed, and beyond the reach of the sea. As soon as these were secured, I started off to the left to examine the pure white sand to see if any human foot had come on shore but my own; but, alas, there was no sign. Turning, when I had reached a distance beyond which it would have been useless to look, I came back and made a similar exploration to the right. As I advanced I saw something black rolling quietly up and down the beach with each miniature wave. For one instant I mistook it for the body of one of my comrades; the next I knew it for one of the breakers that had been in the boat. I rushed into the sea and grasped it, its light weight told me at once that it was the one containing my charts, books, Epitome, and Nautical Almanac, that its very lightness had preserved it and allowed it to be cast over the reef at the very first sea, instead of being crushed, as the one full of water evidently had been, with the boat. With gratitude to God for even this slight mercy and solace, I dragged the cask well towards the land and beyond all danger of the sea. Having made sure that there was nothing else to be saved, I came back to my first landing-place, sat down fainter than ever, but managed to get on my clothes, and with one of the rusty nails from the boat's plank to scratch upon a large stone near by, "November 9, 1865," after which I forced open the top of the canister of preserved meats, by means of the same nail and a small pebble, taking care not to cut the whole top quite out, but to leave it hanging by a kind of hinge. By punching hole after hole around the periphery of the canister with the point of the nail, close together, I soon had it off except in one portion purposely preserved. Pressing this cover back, I took a draught of what to me, in my state, might be called nectar, for it was both food and water, but which was in reality simply beef soup. After this refreshing draught, I lay myself down upon the bank and gave myself up to meditation. After reclining upon the ground about half an hour, my eyes became fixed upon an object slowly approaching me from the right hand, and evidently going out of the narrow inlet in front of me with the tide, which was then at ebb. I rubbed my eyes, and thought I recognized an article belonging to the boat. I took off my clothes again and entered the water, and soon had hold of one of the large red powder-canisters, which had been filled with seeds and stored in the boat when we entered Magellan Straits. I eagerly seized upon my prize and brought it safely to shore, and found that it had been preserved perfectly water-tight by the screw in the top, through which hole the seeds had been dropped into it and then closed. I carried this canister to my former seat and sat myself down with all my worldly goods about me. I made mentally the following inventory of effects:-- On my person I had the following: I had lost my hat in the gale, and the remainder of my clothing consisted of one pair of coarse shoes, one pair of woollen stockings, one pair of flannel drawers, one pair of cheap woollen trousers, one flannel undershirt, one blue flannel shirt, one silk necktie. On the ground before me: one empty tin canister that we had used as a bailer, one empty tin canister that had lately contained the beef soup, one large tin canister, filled with garden seeds, one anchor of about forty pounds weight, and twenty fathoms of line, one piece of boat-planking with several nails, and the empty breaker, containing, as I knew by memory, one Bowditch's Epitome, one Nautical Almanac, one large book, entitled, "Compendium of Useful Arts and Sciences," and one chart of the South Pacific Ocean. In the pocket of my trousers I found one piece of plug tobacco, a small piece of twine, a hair comb, and clay pipe. My knife, for which I would have given so much, had either been laid down in the boat or since lost; it was, at any rate, gone, and I mourned for it. My various duties in collecting these things about me; my former fatigue and depression, aided by the food I had swallowed, soon brought me to a state of drowsiness; and as the sun was now fast declining, I drew myself further upon the island and under a sort of cedar-tree,--the thick and low boughs of which formed a covering for my body from the dews,--and gathering my household goods about me, I, after meekly resigning myself to my fate and commending myself to God, lay quietly down and fell to sleep with the setting sun. CHAPTER V. Attempt to make a fire. Distil salt water. First meal. Reflections. Hat-making. Repose. I slept all night soundly in spite of the cool air and the novelty of my situation. When I awoke, the sun was about two hours high, and I came out from under my cedar-tree feeling quite refreshed, with the exception of an intolerable thirst. The want of water had troubled me on the preceding day, and it flashed across my mind, What shall I do if I find no fresh water?--what shall I do if I find no fresh water?--and this refrain kept now running through my head, accompanied with another tune, What will you do for fire?--what will you do for fire? These two melodies filled my ears without cessation. I arose from my seat on the bank, and proceeded to the sea in front of me, and washed my face and combed out my hair. I then fell upon my knees and invoked the assistance of Divine Providence in my distress. Having ended these duties I began to look about me for water,--water. Should I start off at a venture and run the chance of finding water, failing in which I should perish, or should I at once begin to work with the brains that God had given me, to procure in a scientific manner that which Nature had refused? If, thought I, I start off and use up all my strength in a vain search, I can then but lay down and die; whilst on the other hand, by commencing now whilst I am comparatively fresh, to try and overcome this obstacle, I have two chances of life: for, failing here, I can as a last resort push forward into the island till I find water or lie down and die for want of it. Having thus firmly made up my mind, I began to think. To procure water I must first make fire. How should I do it? Matches I had none; flint, steel, or tinder I was without, and no means of procuring them. I _must_ find steel, flint, and tinder, but where? how? My eyes fell upon the anchor, and that gave me an idea, but I knew that the iron of which it was composed was too soft and rusty to be of use for my purpose. I bethought me of the nails in the planking, but upon examination they also were too soft. An inspiration struck me. I drew off one of my shoes, and by means of one of the larger nails and a pebble soon had one of the heels off, displaying a row of nails that I hoped were hard enough for my purpose. I pounded one of the most likely looking ones out of the leather, and found it quite hard and polished. I ran towards the line of pebbles that the sea had for ages cast up, and looked for a flinty stone to strike my nail upon. I tried several, but could get no spark. I began to despair. I had in boyhood thrown large stones together in the night time on purpose to see the sparks fly, but I was well aware that, obtained in this manner, they would be too weak to ignite any tinder, and my only salvation was in my shoe nail and a flint, or at least a flinty stone. I sought and sought, and tried and tried, without the slightest success. The sweat began to drop from my brow in great beads of excitement; finally I edged more towards the upper part of the beach and towards a small cluster of rocks further inland, whose base was also surrounded by small pebbles. I had almost given up hope, when, pushing the pebbles to one side, I turned up to the light one of a dirty yellow color that I was convinced was a veritable piece of flint. I seized upon it and wiped it upon my clothes, for it was damp, and felt convinced that it was genuine flint. I had to lay it in the sun to dry before I could prove it, and you can little know the agony that I endured in that short interval. At last the flint was dry, and, taking it in my hand, I struck it against the nail. Eureka! Eureka! A faint but perfect spark shone for an instant in the open air. I rushed back with my prize to my cedar-tree, and placing the nail and flint where I could easily find them, I plunged into the grove to look for tinder. I took within half an hour a hundred different substances in my hand to examine them and see if they would serve my purpose. Walking on, I came to a little open field with a short, sour grass, and it was here that I hoped to find my prize. Do you ask what I was looking for? I was looking for one of those dried-up balls, that, as boys, we used to burst open and see the dust fly, that we called nigger-balls. Moving along I came upon a plant that is sometimes used to make pickles of, and I knew that the pod contained a soft silky substance something like cotton. I seized upon this and pulled off an old last year's pod, and found the substance I was in search of. I did not know whether it would do for tinder or not, but I hoped so. I ran about the field looking to the right and the left, and as I was about to give the search up, right under my nose I espied a large nigger-ball. I fastened upon it and posted back to my bank near the cedar-tree. The time for the final test had come. Now to the supreme trial. I burst open the nigger-ball and extracted a small quantity of the dark, dust-like powder that it contained, and laid it carefully upon a small, smooth stone. I then extracted some of the cotton-like fibre from my milkweed pod, and picked it carefully apart into minute atoms with my fingers, and mixed it into the dust before me on the stone. I gathered together minute dry twigs and leaves all ready to place upon the tinder should I be able to ignite it. I leaned over my tinder, and with the shoe nail grasped carefully and firmly in the left hand I placed it near to it, and with the right hand containing the flint struck it a smart blow. The first spark missed the tinder entirely. I moved my hand slightly, and the next stroke sent a fine spark into the very centre of the pile, and in one moment it was ignited, and a little snake of fire began to run in and out of the tinder. I blew carefully upon this and put little pieces of wood in the right places, petted and worked upon it until, with a careful but increasing blast, it burst into flame. I piled on wood and sticks till I felt sure of the result, and then commenced dancing and singing round about the flame, till in my weakness and excitement I fell down in a dead faint. I opened my eyes again to see my fire burning cheerily away as if it was the most natural thing in the world. [Illustration: STRIKING FIRE WITH FLINT AND STEEL.--PAGE 48.] Now for water! water! I seized upon the canister of garden seeds, which was an old powder canister formerly, and would contain, I should say, a gallon of water, and poured out the seeds through the screw hole in the top upon a large flat stone, and covered them with a few leaves. Weak as I then was, I recognized beans, wheat, rice, corn, cucumbers, &c. I took the empty canister to the sea and washed it carefully out and brought it back filled with salt water, and placed it upon my fire, which was now burning splendidly. I rushed again to the seashore and picked up several long pieces of kelp, which we boys used to call devil's apron, and which I knew were long, hollow tubes that would suit my purpose admirably. With the small twine in my pocket, and a piece of my flannel shirt and various leaves, I bound one of these long tubes of kelp to the screw hole of the canister on the fire, and supported it clear of the flames by means of crotched sticks, which I tore from trees near by, and also built a wall round about the fire, to confine it more, made out of stones, upon which I rested the opposite edges of the canister. I led this tube of kelp, which was at least ten feet long, gradually down hill towards the ocean, and, digging a long furrow in the sand, I filled it with wet kelp and seaweed, placed my tube therein, and covered it up again with sand; at the orifice I dug quite a deep hole, and set one of the empty meat-cans under it to catch the dropping water that I knew must appear as soon as my powder canister commenced to boil. I took the bailer and rushed to the ocean, and saturated, by repeated trips, the sand under which my tube was buried. By this time my thirst was fearful, and having heard that bathing is sometimes useful in such circumstances, I dragged off my clothes, and, too weak to swim, I lay down in the cool water at full length upon the sandy bottom, within view of my fire and condenser. Anxious as I was, I knew that I must sustain my strength, and I could think of no better method than this. The cool sea water revived me greatly, more than I could have believed possible, and, fearing to stay in too long, I tottered ashore and to my little well. Water! water! There it was dribbling out of the tube of kelp into the meat-can--already an inch or two had collected. Although tasting badly of the salt kelp tube through which it had passed, you can little know the rapture with which I swallowed it and thanked God. In a few moments more I had enough for another swallow, and of a much better quality, less brackish, and by quietly waiting I soon had two or three inches of quite good water, brackish to be sure, but pure enough to support life and to course like quicksilver through my veins and give me a new lease of life. Suffice it to say that, by renewing my canister on the fire, I had in a few hours both the meat-cans full of water, and my craving thirst entirely quenched. Brains had won. I had both fire and water--two of the four elements--at my command. As soon as my thirst was appeased I commenced to feel the pangs of hunger, but this gave me little disquietude, for I had not been digging in the sand without observing that there were plenty of clams on every side of me, and with a short stick I soon had as many as I wanted on the surface, and from thence to the hot stones of my fire, where I covered them with wet seaweed and allowed them to roast. Whilst this was going on I strayed away to the left a short distance, where I had seen many gulls gathered together, and sure enough, as I suspected, I found the crevices of the rocks full of eggs. I took upon myself, as proprietor of the island, to abstract some dozen of them, and taking the large canister and rinsing it out with a very little of the precious fresh water, I poured the remainder into it from the meat-can, and started with the latter to the sea, and returned with it filled with sea water, which I placed upon my fire, and dropped into it half a dozen of my new-found eggs, which soon commenced to boil right merrily. By this time my clams were baked or roasted, and I sat down to my first meal, consisting of boiled eggs, baked clams, and fresh water, with a thankful and even a cheerful heart; for had I not overcome impossibilities almost, and made sure of the two great wants of humanity, fire and water, which meant food, life, everything? Nature being satisfied, I began to think of the horror of my situation, the only survivor of a company of gallant fellows that had left England in such good spirits only a few months ago. Here was I, a poor Robinson Crusoe, alone and desolate on an unknown island. I tried to penetrate the dark future and discover what fate still held in store for me. By this time the day had passed into afternoon, and I felt the necessity of preparing for the coming night. My great fear was that the island was inhabited by savages, and if so I had preserved my life to little purpose, for I should, upon being discovered, probably be killed at once, or else be made to drag out a miserable existence as their slave, or be kept a captive by them for the term of my natural life. I glanced about me and saw that the island was fair to look upon, and evidently of considerable extent. I desired to explore it, but prudence and fear restrained me. My first care was to get some covering for my head; the rays of the sun, although not oppressive, were uncomfortable. I passed again through the grove of cedars and into the open field, and looked about for something to make a hat of, but found nothing then to suit me. I returned to the seaside again, and what would do for the purpose struck my eye at once, namely, a sort of saltwater rushes which grew out of the sand in large quantities, not far from me to the right, similar to what we used to call at home sedge. I gathered sufficient of the riper and less green leaves and stalks for my purpose, and commenced to lay them up into what sailors call five-strand sennit, and what young ladies would call five-strand braiding. I soon had several yards of this material laid up, and found it quite well suited for my purpose. When I had what I deemed sufficient I took the nail I had before used to open the meat-can with, and which I kept in my pocket, and commenced to bring its end to a sharp point by grinding it upon a soft pebble that lay beside me, and having brought it to a point I went to work and unlaid about a fathom of my manilla rope, and, taking the edge of a clam-shell, sawed off one of the strands, and from that I selected a few threads, which I laid up again into a good strong twine. I then commenced at the crown of my straw hat, and by turning the sennit round upon itself I soon had that part completed, for as I passed once round, I, with the sharp nail as a pricker, forced holes through each part at distances of every two or three inches of the circumference, and passed my manilla twine through, knotted it, and cut it off with the edge of my clam-shell. In this way, in an hour or two I had quite a good straw hat with a large wide brim, and, although hastily tacked together instead of being sewed, it answered my purpose admirably. My hand being now in, I made, in the same manner and of the same stock, quite a long, deep bag, which I fitted with a strong manilla string to pass over my shoulder and hang by my side. My next task was to get together plenty of wood for my precious fire during the night. But this was an easy affair, the very edge of the grove abounding in fallen and dried branches of every kind and description. I made another trip to the gulls' eggs, equipped in my new hat and with my bag slung at my side, and returned with it filled with as many as I desired, and for contingencies I boiled quite a large number of them in salt water in my meat-can over the fire. As a last thing, I went to the field and brought back an armful of grass, which I strewed under my cedar-tree, and increased it with a large bundle of dried seaweed for bed-clothing, and a good-sized stone for a pillow. Having completed all these arrangements, eaten again of my gulls' eggs and baked clams, and carefully attended to my fire, I cut up some of the small quantity of tobacco remaining to me with my clam-shell, and placing it in my pipe had a quiet smoke. By this time the sun was sinking to rest, and I took care to make the record of the day upon the boat-planking, and also opened a calendar account upon one of the branches of my cedar-tree by means of my pointed nail and clam-shell. As the dusk came on I began to think, What is the next most important thing for me to do? My mind answered me, Preserve your fire, or invent means so that you can light it without trouble. I should say that I had already burned a piece of the cotton lining of my trousers, and carefully preserved it between two clean, large sea-clam shells for tinder. I thought that I saw my way clear to protect my fire on the morrow, and also to give myself some weapons of offence, and after having asked God's pity upon my condition I dropped asleep in my seaweed bed, thinking of these things, with my fire near by me well covered up with ashes. CHAPTER VI. Build fireplace. Make knife and spear from anchor. Build tower of stones for perpetual lamps. Resolve to explore the island. I slept soundly and pleasantly all night, and jumped out of bed in the early morning light, ran to the beach, and had a nice plunge in the smooth and sparkling waters. Just as I was about to leave the water I espied two or three quite large dog-fish sharks, which were four or five feet in length, and, although I had no fears of them as concerned myself, they immediately gave me an idea of how I could utilize them could I succeed in capturing them. I ran back to the bank, got into my clothes, and, you may be well sure, knew that the fire was all right even before I started to bathe; ran again to the seaside and dug a few clams, and filled the bailer with salt water, and soon had my usual meal of boiled eggs and roast clams under way. Whilst my breakfast was cooking I commenced building, and completed a superior kind of fireplace, with nice, strong sides of stone, set up on edge, and just wide enough apart to sustain my condenser. After having eaten my breakfast, quenched my thirst, and had a good, quiet smoke, I set the fresh-water apparatus to work again, and commenced to apply myself to the task of the day. With my clam-shell I cut the manilla warp from the anchor, and the latter lay before me under my fixed gaze. I saw that the stock, which was of iron also, was passed through a hole in the solid iron forming the shank of the anchor, and was retained by a shoulder on one side and a large ball at the extremity of its arm on the other. My first attempt was to unship this iron stock or arm from the rest of the anchor, and release it from the hole through which it was rove and kept in place. To effect this I set up in the sand a large stone, with quite a flat, smooth top, as my anvil, and procured another, of an oblong, irregular shape, which I could grasp with my right hand, and with which I could strike quite a powerful blow, as my hammer. Thus equipped, I started a nice fire in my new fireplace and put the condenser on that, leaving me the open fire for my blacksmith's shop. I next went to the beach and got a piece of kelp, and with my clam-shell cut it into suitable lengths for my purpose, and, thrusting the ball at the end of the anchor-stock into the fire, I commenced operations. To increase the heat of the fire I piled on the sort of semi-charcoal that had been formed by the wood covered in the ashes the night before, and sprinkled the same carefully with a little water, and to still further promote affairs I thrust one end of my pieces of kelp under the warm ashes, towards the bottom and centre of the fire, and by putting the other end to my lips I forced a blast of air through the flames as nicely as if I had had a pair of bellows. The iron soon became red-hot, and, snatching it out of the fire and on to my anvil, I, by a few well-directed blows, soon had the ball reduced so as to be able to unship the stock from the rest of the anchor, and held in my hand a bar of iron about an inch in diameter and three feet long; quite a weapon in itself, but not sufficient for such a mechanic as I was. I took this bar of iron, and, putting the end again in the fire, commenced upon my kelp bellows, and soon pulled it out, quite hot and malleable. Suffice it to say that in not a very long space of time, and by repeated beatings and hammerings, I had fashioned out quite a respectable knife, of about eight inches in length and at least quarter of an inch thick in the back; and although the sides were a little wavy and irregular, I knew that grinding would nearly take that out. Whilst the knife that I had made was still fastened to the original bar of iron I drew it down to a long, thin point, and by grasping it and bending it to the right and left soon had it free. My next task was to temper this piece of metal, and by repeatedly plunging it into water and back into the fire I soon got it quite hard, and fit for my present purposes. I sought out a coarse-grained stone, and with my tin of water sat down to moisten it and grind my knife to an edge. I passed several hours at this work, but in the end found myself possessed of quite a good-looking knife, with a good sharp point and fair edge. I picked up a suitable piece of wood for a handle, and soon had it in shape, and, slightly heating the pointed, unfinished end, I drove it home with a stone firmly into the handle, and my knife was done. Pleased enough was I with my success; but I did not stop here. The hole in the shank of the anchor, whence I had drawn the stock, fascinated me. I saw before me a hammer of iron, all ready made to my hand. I thrust the anchor into the fire just below this hole, towards the flukes, and set my kelp bellows to work with a will. After repeated heatings and poundings I had brought the iron down to so small a size that I was able, as before, to part it from the original bar, by bending it backward and forward till the crystallization of the iron was destroyed, exactly as you break off a nail by hitting it with a hammer a few times in opposite directions. I had to get the ring off at the end of the anchor in the same manner, and then found myself in possession of a piece of iron almost exactly like what we sailors call a top-maul, a flat-headed hammer with a long end. I speedily fitted this with a good, strong handle, and, after beating it and tempering it to the best of my ability, put it into use at once. Taking the bar from which I had made my knife I soon made it take the shape of a kind of spear, or rather harpoon, with a sharp, flat head, similar to those arrows always printed on charts to show the direction of currents or winds. This, when finished, tempered, ground, and lashed firmly to a smooth staff of wood, some two inches in diameter and eight feet in length, was really a formidable weapon, either for offence or defence. Armed with my harpoon and knife, I made my way to the seaside, having still another project in my head. Proud, indeed, was I of my weapons, and my natural courage was increased. I took off my clothes and waded quietly into the water, and had not long to wait till I saw some of my friends the dog-sharks, and picking out one that suited me,--for I had no difficulty in approaching them, they showing no fear of me,--I thrust my harpoon into him, and dragged him ashore, cut him open with my knife, took out his liver, and dragged back the carcase into the sea. I served three of them in this manner. From the last one--which was the largest and had a beautiful skin--I cut a large strip, out of which to make a case for my knife, which I did whilst it was green, fitting it nicely, and also a small tip to cover the barbs of my harpoon when not in use. I sewed these up, or, rather, fastened them by means of a bradawl sharpened in the fire from one of the boat nails, tempered and fitted with a handle, and nice, strong thread made from my manilla rope. I brought back with me to the fireplace quite a good-sized flounder, that I had also speared without the slightest trouble, and it was soon cut up and broiling away for my dinner, it being now about noon. I hung my shark livers in the sun, upon a tree, a little distant from my camp, where they would not offend me, and placed myself at table, the fish being now cooked, and plenty of cold boiled eggs on hand. I could spare no time for much dinner. My condenser had been taken off long ago in the forenoon, my two meat-cans being full of water. After dinner I stopped to take a few whiffs at my pipe, and then to work again, for I had much to do ere the setting of the sun. In the first place I proceeded to the right of my camp a short distance, and had no difficulty in picking up as many large shells as I desired, some of them being fully a foot in circumference, and beautiful enough, with their pink, open mouths, to ornament the table of any lady. I gathered together some fifteen or twenty of these, and transported them to the seaside, and thence to my camp, having washed them out carefully, and ascertaining that they would each hold about a quart or more of water. I then set my condenser hard at work, determined to get a supply ahead of any contingency. For my next task I got hold of the breaker that contained my books and charts, and by means of my hammer soon had the hoops off and the head out. But I was mortified to see that a little water had worked into the cask, and that the motion of the boat had caused the books, in moving to and fro, to completely destroy the chart, and, with the little water that had entered, reduced it to a pulp and beyond recognition and repair. Tears started into my eyes at this cruel blow of fate, and it was with the greatest anxiety that I seized upon the books and examined them. Their strong canvas covers had preserved them, and although battered, chafed, and damp they seemed intact,--all except the Nautical Almanac, which had suffered somewhat in different portions, to what extent I had now no time to examine minutely. My Compendium of Useful Arts and Sciences, and Bowditch's Navigator, were, at least, saved, and these were a library and tower of strength in themselves. I put the three books carefully in the sun, where they might dry, and, after heading up the breaker again and setting on the hoops strongly and firmly, I went back to where I had gathered my shells and fastened on to one that I had before discovered, that would hold many gallons,--it is called, I think, sometimes, a sea oyster. With this burden I struggled along to my tree where I had hung the sharks' livers, and placed this huge basin under them to catch the dripping oil; and, as I did not expect much result for a day or two, I cut off a portion of one of the livers and took it to my fireside and carefully tried it out in small pieces, in numerous clam-shells, and poured the oil thus obtained into one of my shell reservoirs. My next task was to go back into my grass-field and gather some of the clayey earth that I had noticed there, and to bring it in my hat to the camp, getting a sufficient quantity in two trips. With this clayey earth I mixed pounded-up clam-shells and a small quantity of seaweed, fine sand, and water. Then, near my cedar-tree, and protected by it, I built a tower of flat stones, using this material as mortar. I built it in a circular form, of about two feet in diameter, and perhaps three feet high. At the bottom I left interstices every once in a while, varying in size, but none of them larger than a half inch in diameter. Towards the top I left the same kind of airholes, but rather larger in size. On one side, about half way up, I left two stones so that they could be taken out by hand and replaced, and when taken out would leave quite a large aperture, large enough to put my arm into and explore the interior. In the exact centre of this stone circular tower I drove a strong stake, standing at least three feet higher than the walls, and by means of sedge, rushes, manilla twine, and large leaves I made the pointed top--of which this stake was the apex, and the top of the circular wall the base--completely waterproof, the sedge projecting beyond the walls in every direction. Within this tower I placed my flint-stone, steel, and tinder, and upon four smooth stones that I placed inside I fitted up on each a large sea-clam shell full of shark's-liver oil, and from milkweed pods provided each of them with a soft, cottony wick, which I lighted, and then closed the aperture. By peeping through the interstices I could see that my lamps burned splendidly, and by blowing I was unable to get up any current inside. My gigantic lantern was made. If my fire should go out, my flint and steel fail me, here was perpetual light. I placed four lights within, so that in case the roof should leak a drop in a heavy rain, some one or two of the shells would run a chance of not being put out. I did not intend to allow my fire to go out this night, but to burn the lamps as a test only of how much oil they would need, and how they would appear in the morning, so as to know what to expect should I leave them for any length of time. Fixing my lamp-tower and pouring the condensed water into the breaker, getting wood for the fire, and my other labors, had made the day a hard one; but as the sun went down, and I supped upon the remains of my fish warmed up, and the inevitable eggs, and enjoyed my pipe, I could but think of how far I had advanced even in one twenty-four hours. Weapons by my side, a breaker full of fresh water, and perpetual light in a waterproof tower beside me. With the deepening shadows came, however, the bitter feelings of desolation and solitude, mingled with the uncertainty of the magnitude of my island, and the impossibility of my being able, except by exploration, to prove it uninhabited. During this day my heart jumped into my mouth many times when I heard the least unusual noise, or, carelessly glancing up, mistook every tree for a savage. My complete freedom from any annoyance up to the present time was in itself satisfactory to my mind, and strong probable reason that the island was unpeopled. Then its unknown position--for I felt convinced that there was no known land where I was now sitting--improved the probabilities. I foresaw that my next task would be the exploration of the island and a search for fresh water; and, wondering what the future would bring forth, I rolled drowsily over into my seaweed bed, and dropped asleep in the very act. CHAPTER VII. Improve my lamp-tower. Make a bow and arrow, and fish-hooks and lines. Capture a large turtle. Improve my steel and flint, and build a hut. Procure some salt, and make arrangements to explore the island on the morrow. I arose at sunrise and found another lovely day commencing. God had blessed me with pleasant weather each day so far. I went first to my calendar, and with the point of my knife inscribed the day and date, as usual; thence to my lamp-tower, and found all the lamps burning splendidly, but with not oil enough to have lasted more than two or three hours more. I foresaw that I must get a much larger and more shallow dish to have any certainty of keeping them alight for any length of time without replenishing them each morning and night. The principle upon which they were built was exactly that which I had often observed in the northern part of China, where the Chinese burn peanut oil in exactly the same way in shallow dishes, with a pith wick hanging over the side. The principle involved necessitated a shallow dish, and that the wick should be in nearly a horizontal position, to suck up the oil to its end which projected over the side of the clam-shell. If the reservoir for the oil was deep instead of shallow, the receding of the oil as it was consumed by the wick would soon let the lamp go out. I saw that I should have to improve upon my lamp business, and concluded to work out the problem whilst taking my morning bath and breakfast. As I started towards the beach, I saw at a little distance to my left a huge turtle, the first I had seen, making for the sea. I ran with my utmost speed, and contrived to upset him upon his back before he had reached it, and soon dragged him to my fireplace, and, although still upon his back, for fear of any accident or escape, at once beheaded him then and there. I then quietly took off my clothes and had my usual bath, taking care, however, not to go out of my depth, as I saw several dog-fish sharks, and possibly larger ones of their species might be in the bay, but, from its shallowness, I did not much think it. Whilst bathing, I solved my problem about the lamps, and returned in good spirits to my fire and clothes, and soon had a nice turtle soup boiling and a steak of the same broiling upon the embers. This turtle was a godsend, and was just what I needed to change my diet. I made a hearty meal, and with reluctance cut into the small piece of tobacco left me and filled my pipe, and had a short smoke, and then to work. I took two of my largest conch-shells, that would hold nearly a quart a-piece, and filled the lips up with my mortar that I had used the day before in the construction of the lamp-tower, leaving an orifice at the larger end, of sufficient size to pour liquid into easily, and one at the smaller end very small indeed. I then thrust both of the shells into the hot embers, and hardened the mortar or cement so that it was soon dry and compact. I then went to my grass-field and chose some minute grass-straws of about a foot in length, and inserted two in the small orifice of each shell, and fixed them in with moist cement. I then went to my lamp-tower, took the roof carefully off, and with a base of stones, and by means of twine with which I fastened them to the central stake, soon had my shells lashed and secured in an upright position, with the four straws pointing into the four clam-shell lamps. I then went with my bailer to the large sea-oyster shell and dipped up the oil that had distilled under the rays of the sun from the dog-sharks' livers, and in several trips filled my shell-reservoirs with oil, and had the satisfaction of seeing each straw dropping oil into the clam-shell lamp beneath. The dropping being rather fast, I easily regulated it by thrusting seaweed stoppers into the upper orifice of the shells till the feeding was very slow, but very perfect and exact. I felt now that I could leave my tower, days without care, and be sure of finding the lamps burning upon my return. I carefully replaced the roof, lighted the lamps again, and made all snug and secure. I did all this work about the lamps to make myself doubly sure of always having fire. I was well aware that with my hardened knife I could strike fire much better than I at first did with my shoe-nail, but I wanted to be sure and take every precaution, and to that end I went to work upon the nails in the boat-planking, and, finding one to my mind, I flattened it out at my anvil into a narrow ribbon of iron, which I hardened and steeled in the fire and water; and, after carefully testing it with my flint, which, by the way, I broke into several fragments, I put it and a piece of the flint into my pocket, and returned the remaining fragments with another nail, hardened and heated in the same manner, to the custody of the lamp-tower. I took thence a small quantity of the burned tinder I had made of my clothing, some of the nigger-ball powder, and cotton of the milkweed, and taking one of the numerous pods of last year's growth that I had gathered of these, and also stored there out of the rain, I split it lengthwise with my knife, and removed most of the core and cotton, and in its place inserted the tinder and powder that I have just mentioned, and secured the whole together by winding round about it some manilla twine; and, not satisfied with that, I cut a small piece from my flannel shirt and wrapped that also about it, and secured it with twine. Thus I carried on my person the means of starting a fire at any time; and, feeling secure, I allowed myself to throw this terrible fear off my mind. [Illustration: CAPTURING A TURTLE.--PAGE 66.] All my energies were pointing to one direction,--to be able to arm and equip myself, so as to make the tour of my island as speedily as possible; but I foresaw that, with my utmost speed and care, I should not be able to be ready to start until the morrow, if then. I went into my grass-field and passed beyond it into the natural undergrowth of trees, and soon had picked out exactly what I wanted, a sort of ash or walnut tree, evidently dead some time since from some cause, the limbs of which I tested and found of the right elasticity. I cut off with my knife several portions that suited my purpose, and returning to my fire, I soon had a handsome bow of fine elasticity, some six feet in length, finished to my hand. From a lighter kind of wood, a sort of alder, I manufactured without much difficulty some half-dozen arrows, and sharpened and hardened as many nails to form heads for them, which I securely lashed on with fine manilla twine. I then proceeded to my gulls' nests retreat, and picked up such feathers as I thought might suit me, and also brought back a load of fresh eggs in my bag. I then took off my clothes again and waded into the sea with my harpoon, and soon had on shore one of my dog-shark friends, and his bladder and fins in a short time in my bailer over a slow fire, for I wanted some glue badly. I took occasion, whilst this was preparing, to thoroughly oil my bow and arrows and to wipe them off nice and clean again with leaves and seaweed. I soon had plenty of glue, and of a good quality also, which I poured out into a large clam-shell, and filled my bailer again with water to boil and cleanse it out. I then proceeded with great care to lay up three strands of fine manilla, about ten feet long each, and made each of them fast to a tree near each other; and, stretched as, they were in this manner, I saturated them with the liquid glue, and then brought them together and laid them up right-handed, so as to make a very fine-looking and strong bowstring, with which I was delighted. By means of the glue I easily fitted each arrow with three nice feathers, and I also dipped the seizing round the heads, that held on the iron barbs, into the same, which gave them a fine finish and smoothed down all the standing fibres of the manilla twine, making all "ship-shape and Bristol fashion," as sailors say. Whilst my hand was in I made also a fishing-line of great strength and of considerable length, and managed to forge out two quite respectable fish-hooks from the wrought nails of the boat's planking. I took my usual meal at noon, but it was of delicious turtle soup, instead of fish, clams, or eggs, none of which did I, however, by any means despise. After dinner I sat down and sharpened and perfected the points of my arrow-heads and fish-hooks. I was not able to make any barbs to the latter, but had to run the risk, when I hooked a fish, never to let him have any slack line till he was landed. Having finished these various labors and looked after my condenser, I commenced another round tower similar to the one already built, and near to it. I wanted a place of safety for books, and with the stones at hand and some new mixed mortar, or cement, I in a few hours completed my task, and had the pleasure of seeing them in safety from rain or damp. I was afraid to put them in the lamp-tower for fear of their catching fire in some unforeseen manner, and I would not risk the chance, however remote it might be. This being finished, I went to the wood and cut down with my knife several small trees, about six feet in height, leaving a crotch like the letter Y at the top of each. I brought these near my cedar-tree, and with my hammer drove them into the ground, so that they stood at an equal height of about four feet in the front row and one foot in the rear row. I stopped this work for a season to fill the bailer, which I had cleansed of the glue, with salt water, and let it, during the afternoon, gradually boil down several times, till I had collected quite a quantity of salt. After attending to this, I returned to my hut-building, and soon had the uprights crossed with light sticks and branches, and upon these I placed large masses of sedge as thatch, which I kept in place by numerous flat stones that I placed upon the roof. I wove into both the long sides, and one end, some manilla strands and pliable small branches, working them in and out in a horizontal position and at right angles to the uprights. To this rough basket work, or trellis, I bound, by means of more manilla strands, large bundles of sedge, till I had a nice hut of about eight feet in length and six wide, with one end left open some two feet wide, and the roof four feet high on one side fronting the sea and two feet high on the land side. Into this hut I carried all my few earthly treasures, and made me a nice bed of seaweed and sedge on one side, and with a large clam-shell and the flukes of the anchor cut out a nice trench round about it, under the overhanging eaves, and piled the spare earth up against the sides of the hut. I was proud of my work. After everything was all finished to my satisfaction, I sat down to a hearty meal, and, being too tired even to smoke, I pulled a small cedar-tree that I had cut down for the purpose, against the opening in the end of my hut, from the inside, and threw myself upon my seaweed bed, and fell instantly to sleep. CHAPTER VIII. Rainy day. Reflections concerning climate, season of the year, tides, etc. Plant several varieties of my seeds. Make a pocket compass, and prepare for my exploration of the island. "Man proposes, but God disposes." This was what I thought when I woke in the morning and looked out upon a foggy, drizzling day; not very much wind, but a regular Scotch mist, and with every look of settling into a real downright rain. I could not well complain, for I had been blessed with pleasant weather since my arrival, and it was but natural that all days should not be as pleasant; and the fast-approaching appearance of rain delighted me in another sense, for I was not at all sure about my supply of fresh water, and I was not sorry to see that the island was visited with rain, which I foresaw that in the future I could utilize should all other methods fail. My nautical experience had been correct; in less than an hour the rain fell freely, and the wind got up quite strong from the northward and eastward. I saw that I must put aside all idea of exploring my island for this day, and I was not sorry, as I had several things that I desired to complete first, and my great fear of not being able to obtain plenty of water of a good quality was fast being dissipated. I got to my fire and started it briskly, so that it would not be disturbed by the rain, and for more security lighted a small one inside my hut under cover, so as to run no risks at all. Although I felt confident that I had the means at present of starting a new fire at any time, I was morbid on this subject, and could not prevail upon myself to allow any of the three flames to be extinguished, namely, the lamps, the regular fire, and the small one in my hut, so fearful was I about it. Up to the present time fire was not only fire to me, but it was water. Once secure concerning the latter I felt that I could allow my fires to go out with better faith. I found during this day my hut a great comfort, and blessed my stars that I had completed it so luckily before this storm commenced. The rain was not cold, being from the direction of the equator; and I therefore, throughout the day, moved about in it in my flannel shirt and drawers, with my broad-brimmed hat and shoes and stockings, leaving my other clothing dry in the hut. I was pleased to observe that the thatching was a perfect success, and the interior as dry and nice as possible. My first task was to go and get the other half of the sea-oyster shell that I had placed under my shark's livers and bring it near the house. I had no fears of the rain interfering with the former, for I knew that, although exposed, the rain would not mix with the oil, but would, if anything, purify it, and that I could easily skim off every particle with a clam-shell when the weather became again clear. Having got my sea-oyster shell, which would hold some gallons, placed under one of the dripping eaves of my hut, I sat down to breakfast, which I made very pleasantly of turtle steaks and eggs. After breakfast I drew forth from my trousers pocket my precious piece of tobacco, and looked with grief at its diminished proportions, but, urged on by solitude and the rain, I could not resist filling my pipe and taking a good long smoke. Whilst smoking, the following thoughts of what I had seen, and what I might expect ran through my head, and I repeated them to myself to fix them in my memory, so that they might serve me in the future. In the first place I calculated that this day, the thirteenth of November, must in this part of the world represent the thirteenth of May in the northern hemisphere, and that therefore I was in the very spring-time of the year, and at a proper season to plant some of my seeds and note the result. Although I did not know how far south I was, still I knew within a degree or so by the reckoning that I had on board of the "Good Luck." I felt assured that I was somewhere between the fortieth and forty-fifth parallel of latitude, and that the climate must therefore be somewhat like that of countries situated between the same parallels of north latitude, like that of England, France, or the New England States of America. Knowing this I had a sort of general knowledge of what seeds would probably prosper, and also what kind of a winter I might expect. Surrounded as I was, as I suspected, by water, I thought that the winter ought to be milder than those of the northern hemisphere, and for the same reason the summers milder. I remembered that many fruits would mature in England, in latitude 52° north, that would not grow in the open air in New England in only 42° north. In imagination I gave my island a climate even milder than England, first on account of its being nearer the equator, and next on account of its, as I supposed, small extent, completely surrounded by water. I was also led to this belief by the balmy, spring-like, and warm air of the days I had already passed upon the island, and the advancement in vegetation that I saw upon all sides of me; the latter completely satisfying me that the springs must be very early, and that the winters could not be very severe. I had also noticed that the rise and fall of the tide was considerable; I should say at a venture at least ten feet. I had no doubt but what I could wade almost across the gulf separating me from the breakwater at mean low tide, at any rate a few strokes only of swimming would be necessary, I felt convinced. From these subjects I passed to thinking of my lonely fate, and made up my mind to cross over again to the breakwater this very day and examine anew the scene of my disaster. What a miserable fate was reserved for me. Here was I only thirty-two years of age, in the very prime of my life, cut off from intercourse with all my fellow-men; cast upon a desert island, without even the comforts and necessities that my predecessor in history had given him to his hands, with nothing but the few miserable trifles that I have enumerated; cast on shore, to care for myself, protect myself, and live for whatever God might have in store for me. The bitter tears ran through my fingers at the desolate picture my imagination had conjured up. Why was I punished in this manner? what had I done that I should be imprisoned in this solitude? But then, on the other hand, what should prevent me from building in the future a boat or raft and escaping from my prison, or why should I despair of some day seeing a vessel within sight of my island that I could hail? My greatest fear, I found in consultation with myself, was the fear of savages; that the island was inhabited. This made me shudder with fright; I felt that I should never rest easy till I had explored it from end to end; I felt that I must do this, and at the very earliest moment. I knew, too, that I ought each day to have crossed to the breakwater and to have looked for some passing ship, but my fire and water and weapons had taken all my time and attention. I made up my mind to attend to this better in future, but then again my sailor's knowledge gave me little to hope for from this source; nothing but the accident of the ocean, or exploration, or discovery, would, I felt confident, ever bring a vessel in this direction. This gave me the horrors again, for my mind convinced me that I might live my lifetime on this island without any reasonable hope of ever seeing a vessel approach it. The very fact of its not being laid down on any chart in so late a year as 1865 proved to me conclusively two facts,--one that it must be quite small in extent, and the other that it was wholly and completely, as I felt that it was, out of the course of vessels engaged in any pursuit, and the chances of its discovery exceedingly small. My meditations were abruptly ended by the hissing of the ashes in the heel of my pipe, and I sadly arose and placed it carefully away, and betook myself to my labors for the day. I knew that it must be at this time about low water, and as the clothing I had on was already quite wet, I started forth, without undressing, to the beach, and, armed with my harpoon, waded in and headed for the breakwater. I found, as I supposed, that with the exception of about fifteen or twenty yards in the middle, which I was compelled to swim, I could wade the whole distance. I soon arrived at the opposite side and clambered up the rocks. I could see but little way seaward on account of the rain and slight fog, but at my feet was the same uneasy, treacherous sea, that had swallowed up my shipmates. I could find no sign of the boat or of them, and I knew that whatever articles lay at the base of these rocks would by this time either be buried deep from human eye or destroyed by the everlasting motion of the undertow. The bottom also, to judge by the sides of the rocks, was no doubt covered with kelp and rock-weed, amongst which, even on land, it would be almost impossible to find anything; how much more so at the bottom of the ocean! I gave up all thought of ever recovering anything more from the boat, and sadly and silently retook my way back to my hut. This trip, and looking after my fresh water and lamps and fire and wood, took up my forenoon and brought me to dinner, which, although lonely, I enjoyed. I took this opportunity to also cook some spare pieces of the turtle and to gather them together in layers, with salt between, to serve me for food in my proposed exploration. I cooked and prepared quite a quantity, as I did also of the boiled eggs. After dinner and the cooking and preparing of these rations, I started forth upon a more important business. I went to my field in the rear of the hut, and picking out one corner where the soil seemed fair, I, by the aid of the fluke of my anchor, turned up the soil in some twenty-five or thirty places, in a circular form, some twenty-four inches in diameter, and carefully removed the turf. I knew that with my tools I could not expect to plough or spade up any portion of great extent, so I took this means. I left the sward intact, except in these circular places, some six or eight feet apart, which I prepared for my seeds, and sparingly from each I planted the following: in five of them, apple seeds; in another five of them, pear seeds; in another five, grape seeds; and in the same and other ones, cucumbers, beans, squashes, celery, blackberries, strawberries, tomatoes, lettuce, etc. My wheat, rye, and rice, I carefully kept on hand, with the exception of one plat that I sowed with wheat wholly, simply as a precaution to preserve the seed if it should mature. Having finished this labor, I commenced upon another task, one that was to tax my ingenuity, namely, a compass. I did not feel like undertaking the examination of the island without this useful instrument. I first procured some nice, strong, birch-bark, sound and well seasoned, of which there was plenty in the grove, and by means of my sharpened nail awl and manilla thread soon had formed a nice little box of about three inches in diameter and two high, with a good-fitting cover to same. By means of a piece of manilla thread held firmly by my thumb on a nice, flat piece of bark, and the awl fastened to the other extremity, I had no difficulty in marking out a disc that would fit within the circumference of my box. I soon cut this out with my knife, and by means of a straight stick and a small piece of charcoal and some little measurement, soon had it marked off into thirty-two points; making the north point with an arrow-head to distinguish it, and the other cardinal points large and black. I soon had quite a respectable compass-card before me. I then took one of the wrought nails from the boat-planking, and, in spite of the rain, soon had it beaten out on my anvil into a narrow ribbon, which I hardened and converted into steel of the length of the diameter of my compass-card or disc. By repeated poundings and drawing this ribbon over my knife from heel to point, I magnetized it so that it would adhere to iron or steel quite forcibly. I fastened this upon the underside of my compass-cover with fine manilla thread near each extremity. I should have said that whilst this ribbon was red hot, I had forced, with another nail, quite a large hole, perhaps three-eighths of an inch in diameter, through its centre. I broke out one of the teeth of my horn hair-comb and lashed it firmly for an upright into the centre of my box, and over the centre of my compass-card I cut out a hole of about an inch in diameter, and over this fastened a little cone about the size of a woman's thimble, only coming to a peak, instead of a round head, and about an inch in height, also made of bark. Into this cone I forced a small piece of the polished lip of one of my sea shells, as an agate or face upon which my horn pivot was to rest and the disc rotate. Passing the disc into the box and the horn pivot up through the hole in the magnet into the inverted cup or cone containing the small portion of shell, I found that I had a real, quick, and good compass. The card had to be balanced by placing, with my glue, small portions of bark on its underneath surface till it floated evenly upon its pivot, and my task was done. I felt that with this implement I could not get lost in my explorations, and although rude in construction, its value was as sterling as one made of brass and with paper disc. I filled the whole box with the soft cotton of my milkweed pods, both above and below the card, and put on the cover so that there could be no motion to wear the pivot. I only, of course, intended to use it in case of necessity, and I had then only to carefully open it, remove the card and cotton, and set it back upon its pivot, after placing it carefully on the ground and protecting it from any sudden blast of wind. I was proud of my instrument, and felt much more secure, in its possession, as to my ability to explore the island successfully. This ended my day's work, and the setting sun gave signs of a pleasant day for the morrow. I felt pleased that I had planted my seeds during the rain, which would give them a good start, and sat down to my supper with a feeling that I had again overcome some of the difficulties that surrounded me. I visited my oyster-shell outside the eaves, and although the sky had been for an hour or two fast clearing up, I saw that I had several gallons of pure rain water, for which I was, I hope, duly thankful. I meditated upon the morrow. Upon my exploration depended all my security for the future. Should I find the island inhabited, a long farewell to all content. If uninhabited, I could, I felt certain, take care of myself till it pleased God to remove me from the solitude to which I was tied. I envied the old Robinson Crusoe, to whom I likened myself, and thought, why could not I have been as fortunate as he; if the "Good Luck" must be destroyed why could she not have come ashore on this island where I could have saved something from her, and, more precious yet, some of the lives of my shipmates? How many years must I stagnate on this island? But I am young and determined to improve my position. Have I not a book of all the practical sciences to aid me in forcing Nature to give up her secrets? Why should I not be able to improve my condition far beyond that which my predecessor in history had been able to do? He had not the education of the nineteenth century to aid him; he knew nothing about the science of steam, railroads, steamboats, telegraphs, etc, whilst I had a book treating of these and a thousand other subjects of infinite interest. I could not help thinking that if I could find iron, I could do almost anything, and why should I not be able to find it? I knew that it was a metal like gold, disseminated throughout all parts of the earth. By my labors as a boy in it I felt that I could, as a mechanic, do almost anything if I could discover this ore, and coal to smelt it. If I found water, I felt assured of the future, and I could not but believe that my exploration would enable me to discover that. It was impossible that so large an area as my eye could gather in should be without it. Once found, I felt no fears for food. I felt assured of my physical well-being, and the climate, I felt convinced, could not be very severe in the winter months with such delightful weather in this spring month of November. I could in time build some kind of a boat, and reach the Society Islands to the northward of me, or the South American coast to the eastward, or even New Zealand to the westward. I was not without hope, and, although far from cheerful in my dreadful solitude, I could not but think that I should be comparatively happy and contented if I felt sure of my island being uninhabited; but I dreaded, in my exploration about to be undertaken, to come suddenly upon some savage village, that would destroy all my desire to still live, and almost put me in a mood to take my own life with my own hands. My nerves were unstrung now all the time, and the slightest noise caused my heart to palpitate with fear, as it had never before done in the severest gale at sea or in face of the greatest practical dangers. I was fast becoming a coward, and felt that I should continue to be one till my problem was solved; then, if successful in ascertaining the extent of the island and its freedom from savages, I felt that I could resign myself with fortitude to the designs that Providence had in my behalf. These thoughts brought me well into the evening, and, commending myself to the divine care, I lay down upon my sea-weed couch and dropped to sleep. CHAPTER IX. Exploration of the island: First day. Fresh water at Rapid River. Wild goats, quail, tortoise, tobacco, wild ducks, trout, sweet potatoes, mussels. Name the island and principal points, etc. I arose very early in the morning and saw that I was to be favored with a very pleasant day. I went to the seaside and took my usual bath; thence to my lamp-tower and arranged all the wicks and reservoirs for a long burning; then to breakfast, which I quickly dispatched, and then my preparation to start, which consisted of the following: I first filled my powder canister with nice, pure rain-water, and fitted it with sennit straps of manilla to hang on my back, taking care to put the screw in the head solidly home, so that it would not leak. In my bag made of sedges I stowed my boiled eggs and turtle-steaks, already cooked, also several other articles of value rolled up in different parcels of birch-bark, including my fishing-line and hooks, and some spare manilla strands, and bradawl, and carefully wrapped up my compass and several large pieces of birch-bark and charcoal, intending to make a sketch of the island as I explored it, being in my younger days quite a good draughtsman. In my trousers pocket I placed my pipe and tobacco, my flint and steel, and my tinder, tied up in my milkweed pod. I then slung over my back my bow and arrows, the latter in a light quiver of birch-bark that I had made for them; secured my knife in its shark-skin sheath about my waist, and took my harpoon in my hand, and, thus accoutred, started forth. Before I advanced in any direction I bethought myself that I would commence by naming the island and all prominent parts that my eye could take in, and to continue this during my exploration. Accordingly I walked down and faced the breakwater, and, drawing forth a piece of birch-bark and charcoal, sketched rudely the outline before me. Determined as I was to succeed, and remembering that I had overcome the want of water and fire, I deliberately named the island _Perseverance Island_. The point that ended the breakwater slightly to the westward of me I named _Point Deliverance_; the reef in front of me, the _Breakwater_, the water between me and the Breakwater, _Stillwater Cove_, on account of its uniform quietness, being almost land-locked. Having finished this I gave one long look of affection upon my miserable hut, and, with a mental prayer for aid and assistance, struck out on the pure, white, sandy beach towards the eastward part of the island. I went naturally in this direction first, for I was too good a sailor to walk around the island left-handed, or, as we say at sea, "against the sun." I had just enough superstition to believe that such a course would have brought me bad luck. I followed my beach about one mile and a half, having on my left hand Stillwater Cove, and on my right hand small groves of tree with long vistas between them, giving me a view into the interior of the island, and over fields of natural grass. I often left the beach to inspect these openings, which I approached with perfect awe, expecting every moment to chance upon some native village, or other sign of the presence of man. But nothing of the kind occurred. And yet before I reached the end of my beach I met with so startling an adventure that I was unmanned for over an hour, and had to sit down and rest before proceeding on my journey. Approaching one of these openings or glades I peered in as usual, keeping myself on my hands and knees, to see if I could find any signs of my dreaded enemies. But the place was as peaceful as any of the others, and, standing up to my full height, I gave vent to a sigh of relief, when, without a moment's notice or warning, some three or four forms jumped from the long grass where they had been concealed and made for the thickets further inland. I was so frightened that I sank to the earth nearly senseless. But as my mind was just about to leave me I had force of character enough to observe that they were not savages, but animals. The revulsion, however, was too great, and I sat down in a faint and sick state, as I have related. When I could collect my mind I easily recognized the shapes I had seen as some species of goats, and delighted indeed was I at the discovery. But it immediately set me thinking, How could there be goats on this island? I well knew that they would not be here naturally; that they must have been put here, and probably by some whaler, for those vessels I well knew often carry several of these animals with them. But if they had been placed upon the island thus, why was it not reported, why was it not known? I could conceive of only one reason, and that was that the unfortunate vessel that had discovered it had afterwards been lost, and therefore its existence had again become unknown. But this was only theory on my part. The quickness with which they left me showed that they were wild, and probably had been many years upon the island. If I should see only this flock of four or five I should feel as if some of the human race had, within a comparatively short time, visited the island. But if in my explorations I should fall upon more of these creatures, I should know that they had propagated and increased through untold years, and from a commencement that would never be revealed. Having completely overcome my faintness, and rejoiced at my discovery, I passed back to the beach, and in a few moments came to a place where it turned abruptly to the right. The land also, being quite rocky and of some elevation, obstructed my view, and, preparing my bow and arrow in one hand and my harpoon in the other, I crept round the bend cautiously on my hands and knees. A beautiful sight struck my eyes. To my right hand, and within a hundred yards of me, a dashing, sparkling waterfall of some eight or ten feet in height, and fifteen or twenty wide, poured its waters into Stillwater Cove; and beyond and inland as far as my eye could reach, till the river mixed with the foliage on either bank, and was undistinguishable, I saw smaller and less abrupt falls of water coming down the gorge between the hillsides; in short, a large mountain brook or small river, bubbling and gurgling its way to dash itself at last over a fall into Stillwater Cove. I forgot all about savages and natives, and, dashing down my weapons, I rushed towards the fall, where it fell into the cove, and, holding my hands under it, filled them with what my mouth proved to me to be soft, pure, fresh river water. I danced, I sung; I was for a little time as crazy as a loon, and here had I been distilling water and racking my brains for days to provide, and a bubbling, running brook, almost a river, within at least two miles of me all the time. But in my happiness I soon forgot my past labors and distress, all that was gone by. Here was a supply of water that kind Heaven had granted me, inexhaustible, and of delicious coolness and taste. Having returned a little to my senses, I went back for my weapons, and sat down and enjoyed the scene before me. It was indeed beautiful. I saw that I was at the head of Stillwater Cove, and that by crossing upon the stones below the fall I should be on the side of the Breakwater, which I now saw was part of the mainland, being a narrow peninsula running nearly east and west, and enclosing Stillwater Cove, and joining the mainland at the spot where I now was seated. Oh, what a lovely spot I found myself sitting in. I named the beautiful stream _Rapid River_, and drew out my birch-bark chart and sketched and located it. I felt that this would be my home; and could anything be more beautiful. As I sat upon a large stone near the river this is what I saw round about me. To the westward, I knew that just around the bend, but concealed from my eyes as I sat, was the long, beautiful beach of Stillwater Cove, with its inland glades that I had just passed over; to the northward and eastward, a gradually ascending grade of land, covered with lovely groves of trees in full foliage; on both sides of the river a beautiful valley of some quarter of a mile in extent, covered with a natural turf and fringed at its circumference with these beautiful groves; farther to the right a mountain that seemed of considerable magnitude. Birds passed me in their flight from one portion of the grove to the other, and I distinguished the wild pigeon and wood-dove and several others that were familiar to my eye. I observed that they came to one of the upper falls to drink, and after enjoying to the full the beautiful scenery round about me, I followed them there and tried to get a shot with my bow. I found that I could get quite near to them, say within twelve or fourteen yards, but I fired many times before I was successful enough to kill one, and even then I should not have been able to have succeeded if it were not for the innumerable number that came to drink and replace those whom I frightened away by my repeated bad marksmanship. Each shot, however, improved me, and I had also a determination to become skilled, and therefore studied and discovered the error of each shot, and improved upon it by the next. Looking down upon the terminus of Stillwater Cove from this upper fall was superb; there it lay, a pure basin of white sand, with this mountain stream dashing into it. Having feasted my eyes, I got out my flint and steel and built me a nice fire in a short time without any difficulty, and soon had my pigeon roasting at the end of a long stick over the blaze. He eat so very nicely that I took to my bow again, and after a few shots killed another, which I devoured in the same way. I found that the air and exercise and my wanderings here and there had made me very hungry, and I added to the roast pigeons several of the boiled eggs and a long draught of pure water from the running river at my feet. Having feasted abundantly, I arose, and leaving my heavy powder canister of water behind me, I crossed Rapid River just below the lower falls, and found myself on the further side of Stillwater Cove. I turned to the left and walked towards the Breakwater, and soon found myself heading for the place where the boat had first struck on the reef, and opposite to my late residence. Upon arrival there I could look across to my little hut, but I kept on till I came to the end of the Breakwater and to Point Deliverance. As I walked along the Breakwater I noticed on the inner side large masses of mussels nearly a foot in length, larger than anything of the kind I had ever seen before, the shells of which would make capital dishes. I stored the fact in my memory for use hereafter. I stood at last upon Point Deliverance and looked out to sea, but no sign of any friendly vessel met my eyes. I turned to the westward and saw a large bay, formed by my island, at least three miles across and three or four deep, bounded on the northwestern side by a slight promontory, which I concluded not to name, from the distance at which I now stood, and on account of the uncertainty of what lay behind it, now not to be seen from my present position; and as I was determined to pass round the whole island I knew that I should come to it in due season. The bay before me, into which Stillwater Cove poured its waters, I named _Perseverance Bay_, and marked the same upon my birch-bark chart. Having gazed about me and seen nothing to examine further, I retraced my steps to Rapid River, and again sat down at the upper fall, refreshing myself with a good long pull at the pure water. I started up the gorge and penetrated for about a mile into the interior of the island, and found that the river became smoother and more level as I advanced, and that the groves of trees in places receded, leaving meadows of grass, and long vistas often, on each bank. I made on this trip of a mile or so several discoveries, the most important of which was that there were plenty of goats upon the island, for I started several herds, one numbering as large as ten or twelve, from the long grass of the bottom land. This convinced me that years must have passed since they had been put upon the island, as they were evidently very numerous. I saw also a great many terrapin, or land tortoises, and saw in them a luxury for the future. I felt convinced that sea turtle would not often come to my island on account of its southerly position and climate, and I looked upon the one I had captured as an exceptional case; still, further in the summer they might be more plenty, their presence would prove my theory correct about the mildness of the climate, and I hoped it might prove true on every account. [Illustration: ROAST PIGEON.--PAGE 91.] In the pure limpid waters of Rapid River I saw several fish darting about, some of which I was convinced were similar to brook trout, but I had not fine enough fishing gear to try for them. In the long grass of the meadow, near the bushes on the border, I started a veritable bevy of quail,--or such I took them to be, and I had known the bird well in boyhood,--and when they flushed and whirled into the air a feather would have knocked me down. My nerves were, however, getting stronger and stronger, for I reasoned that no human being could be on the island and allow such a paradise as this to remain uninhabited. I recognized amongst the trees, pines, hemlocks, maples, elms, oaks, etc.; and amongst the bushes and plants several with which I was familiar. On one of the smooth reaches of the river, passing from the meadow to higher and firmer ground, I disturbed a large flock of ducks. On the left bank of the river, which was not wooded, I came upon what I believed to be a joyful discovery for me, namely, the tobacco plant. I was not sure, but I had seen the weed growing in Virginia, and I felt sure that, although stunted, and dispersed here and there, this was the veritable article. I determined at my earliest opportunity to test some of it by curing it, and in fact plucked a small portion of the leaves for that purpose and thrust it into my bag. The taste in the green state confirmed me in my opinion, and I felt sure I was right. This discovery would be a great solace to me in my loneliness, and I felt very thankful for it. I crossed the river by wading and jumping from stone to stone, and descended it on the other side, still seeking for new discoveries. My friends the goats were often disturbed by me, and I saw with pleasure that they were very numerous. They were, however, very shy, and ran away with great speed and evident fright, and gave me no opportunity to shoot at them. It was on this side of the river that I made the discovery that gave me bread, or rather something in lieu of it. I noticed a running vine upon the ground, and my memory told me that it resembled that of the sweet potato. I pounced upon it, and, plucking up the root, held in my hand the evidently half-grown bulb that I was in search of. It had not yet matured, but it was bread for all future time. I felt that I held in my hand the sweet potato of Virginia and the Carolinas. This set me to thinking again, Was this nature or man? Who had planted these two things, tobacco and potatoes, that I so much desired, God or man! I felt that I should never know. The shades of evening were by this time beginning to fall around me, and I made my way back to the second fall on Rapid River and arranged for the night, gathered wood for my fire, and grass for my couch, which I placed under the overhanging and low branches of a cedar, similar to the one near my hut, which I concluded to call the _Landing Place_, and so marked it upon my chart. I was pleased with my explorations so far, and foresaw that I could gather everything about me in the way of comfort that a man could desire, except that one great instinct of our nature, companionship with our fellow men. I ate my supper of turtle steaks and eggs with great satisfaction, and by the light of my fire sought my humble couch and slumber. CHAPTER X. Exploration of the island: Second day. Find coal and sulphur, seals, more turtles, gulls, etc. The next morning the sun rose with his customary brilliancy and brought to poor me another beautiful day. I arose from my hard and humble couch, and raked apart the ashes of my last evening's fire, and put on some new wood and soon had a cheerful blaze. I stepped down to the river and soon with my bow and arrows had two or three of my wild pigeons despatched, which I quickly plucked and soon had roasting over my fire. So far I had been more successful than I could have hoped to have been; no savages, no noxious or deadly animals, but all a seeming paradise. I soon finished my simple repast, and strapping my canister upon my back and taking my harpoon in hand I commenced my pilgrimage round about the island, which I was determined to accomplish before I undertook any other task. I passed across Rapid River and pressed towards the sea coast and finally, after a walk of about a mile in a northeasterly direction, came out upon a bold shore with quite a promontory on my right hand. How wistfully I looked out upon the ocean, the day being so clear that I could see to a great distance; but my view encountered no welcome sail,--only the everlasting waste of waters spread out before me. With one long sigh of repining at my fate, I passed on to the right and commenced ascending the promontory before me. I trudged on through open land and small groves of trees till I arrived at the summit, which was barren and gave me a great view seaward and convinced me that I was on the extreme northeastern extremity of my island; for I could see nothing to the northward of me, but in my rear and to the eastward I saw another projection extending into the sea, to the southward of which I could not observe. From my elevation I was able to see somewhat of the interior of the island, and this was what met my view: to the south of me and at about two miles distance, as I should judge, I saw quite an elevation, and far away to the southwest another large hill, almost a miniature mountain. The island seemed well wooded in all directions and presented a beautiful appearance in the brilliant morning sun and pure clear air. I looked long and anxiously to the eastward for land, but saw nothing: and my friends the goats seemed to have deserted me in this part of the island, for I saw no signs of them. I turned to pass to the southward and eastward along the coast-line, when I was attracted by the appearance of the ground round about me, having in seams amongst the rocks a dark appearance. I stooped down and by the aid of my knife broke off some portions of this familiar looking substance, when lo and behold! I held in my hand veritable anthracite or bituminous coal,--I was not expert enough to know which, although I thought it to be the former. What a discovery was this for me, and yet what a natural one, after all. I could not rest satisfied with my own convictions that it was really coal that I held in my hand; but then and there drew out my flint and steel and started a wood fire, at which I had become expert, and digging up large fragments with my harpoon and knife, which I took care not to break or dull in the operation, I cast them upon the flame. Yes, it was true past peradventure,--I had found coal, veritable coal, that burned readily in the midst of my wood fire where I had piled it in the glowing embers and flames. Every once in a while it seemed to give off quick jets of flame, and this led me to examine the specimens before me more carefully to ascertain the cause. And upon breaking open, with a stone, quite a large fragment, I saw within it a large broad streak, as wide as my finger, of a yellowish cast, which I instantly recognized as sulphur, and in fact my memory told me that the coal received from the island of Formosa, in China, especially from the surface collections, abounded in sulphur, sometimes so much so as to be disagreeable for house use. But one thought flashed into my mind upon this discovery, matches! matches! matches! Yes, here was before me the foundation of all lucifer matches, and I had only to consult, on my return, my Compendium of Useful Arts and Sciences, to avail myself of it and find out how to combine it with the other necessary articles to have real _bonâ fide_ matches. I was overwhelmed with joy, and blessed the hour that had been so fruitful in comforts for me, should I have to remain upon this island. I went to work and soon had sufficient of crude sulphur or brimstone--I do not know which it should correctly be called--to answer all my purposes for experiment, and carefully wrapping it up in some leaves and fastening it with a thread of my manilla, I placed it in my bag. I thought how rapidly my fortunes were changing: here had I within a few hours insured myself against cold and loss of fire by the few gifts of nature laid at my feet. I tried, in spite of my miserable solitude, to be thankful. Before leaving the promontory I drew out my birch-bark chart and named the point _East Signal Point_, as it was evidently a capital place at some future day to erect a signal of some kind upon, being high, bold, and barren, and overlooking the surrounding country. The place where I had found the coal and sulphur, I simply named the _Coal Mine_. Having marked these carefully down, I rolled up my chart and took my way towards the easterly cape to the southward of where I stood. After a walk of about a mile and a half, I found myself upon what was evidently the extreme eastern end of my island, not nearly so high as East Signal Point, but well elevated and barren towards the sea, backed with a thick forest inland. Standing on this point, which I named _Eastern Cape_, I saw that this was the limit of my island in this direction, and by figuring in my head and looking at my chart I estimated that I was about six miles from my landing-place in a direct line, and about eight by the coast line. I saw nothing here to attract my attention except many seals on the southerly shore, which was now opened to my view for the first time. On the broken and jagged rocks of this coast-line I saw great numbers of these animals of different sizes, and I should think of different species. It being by this time about noon by the sun, I sat down and opened my bag and regaled myself upon turtle steaks and cold boiled eggs, for I did not go to the trouble of lighting any fire; this, washed down with water from Rapid River in my tin canister, formed my frugal meal. Towards the southwest I saw trending a long sandy beach similar to the one inside the breakwater, except that this was lashed by the long regular billows of the ocean without any intervening barrier. After taking a good long rest, I got upon my feet and started again upon my journey. I soon came down upon the hard sea sand from my elevation, and the seals that I had seen from above seemed little inclined to move at my approach, and I passed quite near to several amongst the rocks before reaching the beach. No one can credit what pleasure I experienced in simply observing these poor dumb creatures so near me, with their great, beautiful black eyes, and I lingered near them for over an hour, so fascinated was I by them; they seemed almost like companions to me, so subdued and lonely had I become for want of the society of my fellow-creatures, even in these few days. I talked to them, and they answered me by snorts of surprise, and by gazing at me with their great staring eyes. I would not have hurt one of them for all the wealth of the world, and when I left them I took off my clumsy hat and bid them good-by as I would intelligent beings. After leaving the seals behind me I became despondent again, and cursed my cruel fate. My loneliness rushed upon me with renewed force; however, I tried hard to thrust it from me, and before I had made a mile upon the beach was in better spirits again. I saw flying round about me several birds that I recognized as gulls, and ahead of me a turtle made his way into the sea, but I made no attempt to stop him, having plenty of food and to spare, but I was glad to see that my expectations, or rather desires, were more than fulfilled, and that my capture upon the other side of the island had not been an exceptional one, and I could look to this creature also for food; but that question, as well as the one of water and fire, was fast disappearing from my mind, as the certainty of providing all easily was being hourly forced upon me. I foresaw that I should not want for any of these things, that I should, with a little care and labor, have comforts undreamed of when I first found myself cast on shore. The question of savages even was fast being settled, for I reasoned that I could not have made such a distance round about the island without finding some traces of human beings, if there were any upon the island; still I cannot say that all my nervousness was gone, I was yet too lonely, depressed, and solitary, and knew yet too little of the whole island, to have recovered all my usual and natural evenness of temperament; but I was improving, and my head was already filled with ideas of boats, balloons, and I know not what, in which I was in some way yet to escape. After walking about three miles along this lovely beach I came, upon turning a slight elevation, to the mouth of a small trickling brook not over three feet wide, which found its way to the ocean from a background of forest trees. I sat down by the side of it, and soon ascertained that the water was pure, cool, and fresh. I almost smiled at the fury with which I had attacked this problem of water upon my first arrival upon the island; but on the other hand I felt pleased to think that I had also overcome it, and had made Nature serve me. I took quite a rest at this point, and, after sauntering about, concluded, as the sun was sinking towards the west, to make it my resting-place for the night. For this purpose I went a little further back from the beach under the trees, and carried up there large quantities of good dry seaweed, and made me a nice comfortable bed, lighted a good fire, and after a quite good supper of my eggs and turtle steak, which I warmed in the ashes and roasted over the hot coals, I took out my pipe and tobacco to smoke and meditate. With the precious weed that I drew from my pocket I mixed a small quantity of the wild weed that I had found, and having of course had no time to cure it I first shrivelled it up over my hot embers and then mixed it with my tobacco. By the scent and fragrance whilst it was being dried in this manner, I had no longer any doubt but what I had found the veritable article, and when I came to mix it in my pipe I felt convinced. It being early, and feeling that I surely had a supply of this luxury, I indulged in a second pipe-full, and whilst I was puffing away I was also trying to look into the future. My remembrance of the original Robinson Crusoe was that he was a bungler at anything and everything that he undertook, whilst I felt that I was a good mechanic, thoroughly versed in the use of all tools, and especially in working in iron; that I had a fair, sound, common-school education, and that I had been ingenious and inventive both on sea and land from my boyhood; that I had had good experience in navigation and seamanship, and intercourse with many nations; that I knew, and had acquired, the little every-day habits of many curious people, and that I had seen numerous ways of doing the same things in different parts of the world. Besides all this I had a valuable book which would serve me in the very points in which I was deficient, and I felt that with it I could do thousands of things that the old Robinson Crusoe never dreamed of doing. I felt that if there was iron to be found in the island there would practically be no end to the improvements and comforts that I could gather about me; with tools of iron and steel, with my knowledge of mechanics, what I could not make would almost be the question. I felt convinced that there must be iron upon the island, even if not in large quantities, enough for my purpose if I could only find it. I knew that the Japanese islands had plenty of it, that Formosa and New Zealand abounded in it, and I was determined to find it if it was to be found. I had already made up my mind to move to Rapid River for my home, unless future discoveries showed me a different state of affairs in the western part of the island than I expected to find. I wondered, as I sat, whether my famous lamp tower was performing its duties during my absence, but it did not trouble me any longer even if it were not, for I found that my flint, steel, and tinder were all-sufficient for my purpose, and was I not soon going to make real matches? Sitting smoking, and revolving all these thoughts in my mind, I saw the sun sink into the western ocean, and shortly after wrapped myself up in my seaweed covering, under the shelter of a bunch of low shrubs, and dropped asleep. CHAPTER XI. Exploration of the island. Third day. Stalking goats. Mirror lake and river and bay. Sad moonlight thoughts. I awoke to still another pleasant day, having scarcely moved in my seaweed bed during the night. My first duty was to make my way to the running brook and have a good wash, and then to look about me for breakfast. I bethought myself all at once of the turtle that I had seen on the beach the previous day, and I made my way back to the place where I observed the marks of its ingress into the sea, and, looking about carefully, I soon found its eggs nicely covered up in the sand. I took as many as I wanted and turned about and made my way back to camp, and soon had them roasting in the ashes. After breakfast I pushed my way a little into the island, and found pleasant groves and fields, in one of the latter of which I observed a flock of goats feeding. They did not see me, and I found by the direction of the wind that I was to leeward of them, and therefore beyond their scent, and I determined to stalk them, or creep in upon them, and try to get a shot with my arrows. For this purpose I divested myself of all extra articles, and, armed only with my bow and two arrows, and my knife in its sheath, I got upon my hands and knees and commenced the task. At first this was not difficult, for the animals were at least two hundred yards distant from me, and by taking advantage of different clumps of trees and shrubs I soon approached within one hundred yards of them; but then my labors commenced. I felt that I must get very near to be sure of my aim with arrows, and to pierce them sufficiently deep to produce death; at least within twenty-five yards. I made progress for some twenty or thirty yards quite well by keeping within range of intervening objects, but when I found myself within about sixty or seventy yards of them I found my task difficult, and I had often to lie upon my belly and drag myself along, inch by inch, so as not to be seen, and with one hand to clear the ground before me of the smallest twig or anything that would make the slightest noise when my body was passing over it. It took me a full hour to make twenty-five yards in this manner, which brought me within, as I should judge, thirty-five yards of them. Here my precautions had to be increased, and it was with infinite labor, and the expenditure of at least another hour (but what was time to me) before I found myself behind a low clump of bushes, on the other side of which, not more than twenty yards distant, I could hear the goats feeding. Silently I fitted an arrow to the string, and rising inch by inch till the muscles of my arms and thighs were nearly worn out from immovability, I saw through the thin tops of the bushes one of the goats not fifteen paces from me. I was at a fever heat of excitement, and drawing my arrow silently to the head, and with the utmost force of my arm, I launched it at the game, and saw it pierce the goat through and through, who fell upon his side, but immediately regaining his feet made off with amazing swiftness; its companions, to the number of some six or eight, scattering in all directions. I followed as fast as possible on foot, and saw with satisfaction that my game had not gone more than one hundred yards before it began to waver and to lose its speed, and within the next fifty yards, in the open field, to fall upon its side, and, just before I arrived, expire, in its fall breaking the arrow short off. I looked down upon the creature with exultation, for it was food, and good food, and I had won it by honest and persevering labor, and by means of what in our day was considered a contemptible weapon. I took out my knife and cut the creature's throat and let the blood escape, and then taking him--for it was a buck--by the hind-legs I threw him over my back and started for my camp on the rivulet, where I dumped him down beside my fire and commenced to skin him. This, with my knife, I soon completed, and, cutting off some of the tender chops I soon had them roasting on the coals, for, although I had breakfasted a few hours before, I could not resist the temptation of tasting fresh meat, which, on account of my sea voyage, it was so long since I had enjoyed. I found it exceedingly good in flavor, but a little tough, my customer evidently being far from young. He carried a very handsome pair of curved horns, and a long, majestic beard. The hair was of rather a finer texture than I expected to find it, and was not very long or thick; another proof, I thought, of my theory of the mildness of the climate. The animal was such a true, commonplace goat, such as one sees on whalers, that I felt convinced that the breed had at some long-distant day been left on the island in this manner, but no signs had I yet found of the island having ever been lived upon or explored. Then, again, it might with great probability have been stocked fifty or sixty years ago, and any signs of persons having been here, except they had left enduring monuments of some kind, would long ago have been effaced or destroyed. I made up my mind to accept the blessing without puzzling my brains any more to find out how it happened that they were here. I was pained to know what to do with the large mass of flesh that I had remaining, and having, at Buenos Ayres, seen the jerked beef of the prairies, I cut large portions of this creature into strips and hung it on the surrounding trees and bushes to dry and cure in the pure air. A large portion of what was left I roasted and put in my bag, throwing away the remainder of the turtle steaks and gulls' eggs, of which I had become somewhat tired. All this brought me to the afternoon, and, packing up all my articles, after a good long smoke, harpoon in hand I started forth again, heading towards the westward. Two miles' walk brought me to an elevation running out into the sea, which was evidently the southern extremity of my island, and I marked it upon the chart _South Cape_, and the hill-top _Watch Hill_, for the reason that I could see from this position much further in both an easterly and westerly direction than from any point upon the island that I had yet reached. To the right of me as I faced to the southward was a beautiful and lovely bay, at least a mile and a half deep and three-quarters wide, as smooth as glass, in which the shadows of the surrounding shores and hill-tops were pictured. I marked it down upon my chart as _Mirror Bay_. Long and steadily I looked to the southward before leaving South Cape, but no sign of land met my longing view. To the westward, on the other side of Mirror Bay, trended the white sand beach, backed by groves of beautiful trees which were in full verdure. Drinking in all the beauties of Nature round about me, I turned my steps towards the head of Mirror Bay, and in about a mile and a half came to a river of considerable size pouring into it, which seemed of some depth, and was at least thirty or forty yards wide. I followed this stream about a mile and a half more, when, struggling along by the side of the river, which I named _Mirror River_, through a short undergrowth of a sort of scrub oak, I all at once came out upon the most lovely lake imaginable, fringed round about by beautiful groves of trees, and looking like molten lead or silver in its quietness and calm. I named it at once _Mirror Lake_, but in forcing my way to its margin, after having for a few moments enjoyed its beauties, I started up from its borders innumerable flocks of birds, amongst which I distinguished geese, swans, ducks, and other birds of which I knew not the name. I sat down upon the borders of this beautiful sheet of water and contemplated it in silence. After having enjoyed its beauties to my fill, I passed again to the river bank to pass over and get again to the seaside, but I found the water rapid and quite deep, although not over my head, and I was obliged to undress and carry my things over one by one, and to make several trips before I stood with all my weapons round about me on the southwestern bank. This lake I should say was about one mile in extent and half a mile wide, of nearly an oval form, and its waters, which I tasted and found excellent, singularly pure and limpid, with hard, sandy shores, and free from any slime or stagnant water. A walk of a mile brought me again to the seaside, and I trudged on, I should judge, about three miles, till I saw a ledge of rocks jutting into the sea and confining my vision as to the extent of the island in that direction. As I drew nearer I saw forms upon the rocks that looked like human figures,--like soldiers in full uniform,--but singularly small in size. For just one moment I was deceived,--nay, even frightened,--but the next my sailor's eyes told me they were penguins, and sure enough, as I approached, my soldiers gravely plunged into the ocean and swam out seaward. I named the point, _Penguin Point_, being the first of these birds that I had seen. From this point the coast ran in a northerly direction in almost a straight line, but I had no time to examine it further on this day, for the beautiful sun was fast dipping into the western ocean before my eyes, with nothing to veil the magnificent sight. Eagerly did I look for land as its lower limb touched the water and set it all in a blaze, but nothing met my view. I did not find here the thick, shady trees of the remainder of the island; but short, stumpy cedars and pines, and I noticed that the land was flat and sandy. I built a small fire so as to light my pipe and enjoy its company, and gathered together my customary bed of seaweed. The stars came out in all their brilliancy, and by and by the moon came creeping up behind me over the island, but I could not sleep as usual. I was too solitary and desolate to enjoy that luxury of forgetfulness, and I sat for long hours into the night, listening to sounds that, in any but a sailor's ear, would have created fear and anxiety; for on the ocean side I heard the never-ending pulsations and throbs of its ceaseless breathing, and inland the nameless noises of the night which I had learned years before in anchor-watches in some distant river of a far-off clime. I was not afraid, but I was lonely, and in the agony of my spirit I prayed for rescue from my living tomb; but better feelings came to my mind as the night wore on, and I thought over how much I had to be thankful for, and how many comforts I could get round about me with a little industry and foresight. I suppose that it was about midnight when I put out my pipe and fell asleep; at any rate, when I awoke it was broad daylight, and the sun at least two hours high. CHAPTER XII. Exploration of the island: Fourth day. Finish the exploration of the island, and build stone house at Rapid River. I soon had my fire in a blaze and my breakfast despatched, and started forward on my explorations. As I advanced, I saw that I was on a smooth, hard sand-beach, with a scanty growth of cedars and pines on my right hand inland. After walking a few miles I turned to the right and walked inland, expecting, from the formation of the land, that the part of the island I was upon could not be very wide; and sure enough, after a short half mile through the stunted cedars, I came out upon Perseverance Bay, and within plain sight of Point Deliverance and Stillwater Cove, some three miles distant. I found that I was upon a narrow tongue of land which formed the western boundary of Perseverance Bay and ended in the promontory that I had seen from Point Deliverance in looking across the bay on the first day of my explorations. I did not consider it worth while to pass back again to the west shore, but kept along on the beach on the margin of Perseverance Bay towards the point to the northward. In a mile or two more I reached it, and found that it consisted of quite a sandy elevation, covered with stunted cedars, and evidently the extreme northern point of my island. I named it _West Signal Point_. Here I sat down and took a review of my situation. I had virtually made the circuit of the island; for from where I sat I could see the margin of Perseverance Bay, which, if I followed, would end in landing me at the mouth of Stillwater Cove, near my hut. I saw that my task was completed, and that I was alone on my island, the only living human being, the latter-day Robinson Crusoe. My feelings were those of joy and grief,--joy, that it had pleased Providence to keep me out of the hands of savages, where I could pass my life in peace, if it was so willed; grief, that I should be forced to this lonely and solitary life. I sat many hours at this spot, thinking over plans for the future, and what I should do to make myself comfortable and protected from wind and weather, and from future enemies, should any ever visit me. On the whole, I found my mind much relieved at the positive proof that I had of the island being uninhabited, and when I arose and started for home it was with a freer step and lighter heart than I had had since my landing. A trudge of about seven miles, as near as I could judge, brought me to Stillwater Cove without adventure of any kind, although I passed many objects in the way of birds, trees, and vegetables that were of intense interest to me. From thence, a walk of about a mile brought me to my hut at about five o'clock by the sun, hungry and tired, but perfectly well and strong. Convinced as I was of the utter solitude of the island, still it was with care and almost awe that I approached my hut, almost expecting to see some strange creature, either human or savage, within its walls. Nothing met my ear or eye. Quietness and solitude reigned, and everything was exactly as I had left it. I examined my lamp tower, and found that two of the lights had gone out, I suppose on account of the wick, but the others were burning well but dimly. I immediately gave matters here my attention, and soon had all to rights and "ship-shape." I had even a feeling of comfort as if I had arrived home, and I went about the matter of getting supper and starting my fire with a cheerful feeling; and whilst doing so I caught myself at one time quietly humming an old sea ditty. I saw plainly that my residence at this point was at an end, and that Rapid River was the place for me to make my home. So I took little care to arrange matters about me on this evening, but sat down in a matter-of-fact way and ate my supper, whilst the sun was sinking into the west; but when night came on, with my pipe as a solace, I thought of everything, and these are a few of the thousand and one things that coursed through my mind. I gathered together the following facts:-- _First._ That the island was uninhabited, fruitful, and fertile, abounding in everything that could conduce to my comfort; pure fresh water in several localities, birds and fishes of many varieties, goats, trees of all sizes and growth, tobacco and sweet potatoes, coal and sulphur; an evidently mild and even climate, and many useful things, no doubt, which I had not yet discovered in my hasty circuit of it. _Second._ That I was the only living soul upon it, and that all these natural treasures were mine to avail myself of by industry, ingenuity, and perseverance. Such being the facts of the case, what should be my future course, and what my plans and duty? Amongst the many that flashed through my mind, I picked out these, as forming the most important to first receive my attention. _First._ To erect a strong, serviceable habitation at Rapid River, which I had already in my mind concluded to call the _Hermitage_. _Second._ To ascertain at as early a day as possible, by the best means at my service, and by the assistance of my "Bowditch's Navigator," the latitude and longitude of my island, as near as I could come at it. _Third._ To project a chart from the "Epitome," and find out how far I was from other lands. _Fourth._ To never desist from seeking for iron ore at every opportunity, for with that I could do almost anything. _Fifth._ To study out some way of building a boat, of size and strength, without the use of iron or timbers to strengthen her. _Sixth._ To take the greatest care of my seeds, and watch with the utmost solicitude those which I had planted. _Seventh._ To capture at as early a date as possible one or two of the wild goats, so as to be able to breed up tame ones for my use. _Eighth._ To procure at once some kind of ink, and keep up my journal and reckoning on birch-bark leaves. These were amongst the first tasks that my brain gave my body to execute, and although thousands of others ran through my head, they all more or less depended upon the consummation of these cardinal ones. At a late hour I sought my seaweed couch in my hut, and fell asleep. The next morning I commenced work in earnest. I had my idea about ink (which, if my memory served me right, the old Robinson Crusoe had so much difficulty about and was unable to make), and wending my way to the beach of Stillwater Cove, with my harpoon in hand, I waded in, and commenced looking carefully for squid or cuttle-fish, feeling positive that the ground was too good for them not to be found there, having seen them frequently lying dead in the seaweed whilst passing around the island. I had not long to hunt before I saw several on the pure white sand before me at the bottom of the water, about the usual size of those at home, say some six inches in length, but when I attempted to strike one with the harpoon it darted out of the way, backwards, just as they used to do in my boyhood days, ejecting at the same time the fluid from his body which I desired to preserve. I saw that it was useless to try and get any of these in deep water, and therefore waded ashore and commenced looking for them in the numerous shallow pools that the receding tide had left near the margin of the water, and I was successful in finding five nice fellows embayed in a small, shallow pool, not six feet in circumference, whence I had no difficulty in kicking them out upon the sand, opening them with my knife, and pouring the contents of their dark fluid (which is the sepia of commerce) into a deep mussel-shell. I had the foundation for good ink, and with the addition of a little water, and a quill made from the feathers of my friends the gulls, I was easily fitted out with pens, ink, and birch-bark, which was all I needed for many a long day to come. This task ended, and a trial made of my new ink by making some notes and entries of my doings up to this time, I commenced upon another, and that was the building of the Hermitage at Rapid River. I selected a beautiful spot a short distance below the fall, the noise of which was delightful to my ears, and laid out the foundations for my future residence. I was at least three weeks preparing all the materials for the building of the same, passing over each day to my task and back to the hut to sleep. I was determined that my future residence should be strong and well built, and able to withstand the action of wind and rain, and for this purpose I passed my time in gathering large masses of clam and oyster shells, and reducing them to lime by the action of fire. This was long and laborious work, but I needed lime to make mortar, and I could only get it in this way. I also wanted some hair to mix into my mortar, and this puzzled me for a day or two, but I bethought me of the goat's skin that I had brought home with me from near Mirror Lake, and I at once put it to soak in one of the large sea-oyster shells in water impregnated with wood ashes and some of my lime to make the hair come off, which it readily did after a few days. I then went about, whilst burning my shells for lime, to capture some more of the goats, and by means of numerous snares made of my manilla rope, and placed in the localities that I found they frequented, I had no difficulty in capturing as many as I desired, all of which I killed and cut the flesh into narrow strips and cured it in the air for future use. The lye in which I soaked the skins gave me the hair for my mortar, and the skins remaining, although not tanned in a proper sense, were useful to me in a thousand ways. When I had gotten together a sufficient quantity of lime, hair, and nice dry sand, and an immense pile of the largest stones that I could move, I commenced to build my house. I marked out a parallelogram of what I should judge by my eyes to be about twelve feet in width by eighteen feet in length, and upon these staked-out lines I dug a trench some three feet in depth, and into it I pushed my heaviest stones for the foundations, taking care to place particularly large and smooth ones at the corners. Luckily building material was plenty and at no great distance. Rocks of all sizes were to be found at the base of the rocky point that was just below me on Stillwater Cove. Of course I used much larger stones than I could lift, which I got to where I wanted them, and into place, by means of small rollers, which were sections of quite large tree-limbs, that I had cut off with infinite care and patience with my knife, into the requisite length, and large, strong stakes of wood, made in the same manner, which I used as crowbars, or as we sailors should call them, and more properly, handspikes. After my first tier was laid round about the whole trench, I rolled in other stones on top, putting mortar between them before I pried them into place. When the trench was filled I commenced to use smaller stones, but still ones that were quite large and almost unmanageable; and as the walls got higher, I had to content myself with stones that I could lift with my hands. But then, again, I at this point commenced to double my wall, using two stones side by side where I had formerly at the base used one. In this way my house, gradually, after some three months' incessant labor, began to take shape. On the front, sides, and rear, at proper distances and height, I inserted large timbers so as to form windows. These timbers, which were often as large as my thigh, I obtained by finding dead trees that would suit my purpose in the woods, and burning them off at the proper length, so that I could handle them. Of course a foot or two or a burned end was of no consequence, as it was laid upon the wall in a horizontal position, and mortared into its place with the stones that were piled upon it. In this way I formed rough but strong uprights and cross-pieces for my door and windows, all of them firmly built into the wall, and forming part of the solid walls themselves. [Illustration: BUILDING THE STONE HUT.--PAGE 120.] At the end of some three months, after incessant and exhaustive labor, I had the satisfaction of seeing the stone work to my house all done, the top of the walls being at least two feet above my head, and I should say at least twelve inches thick; this was all mortared up both on the outside and inside, and was as strong as a fort. The last layers of stone gave me the most trouble, but by means of a large, nearly round stone, upon which I stood, I was enabled to finish my task, although at great pains. The erection of the roof was comparatively an easier matter, although that also took me a long time and was only completed after great patience. I found growing on the shores of Rapid River a species of cane, and I found that I could cut these down without difficulty, and gathering a large number of them, I spliced them together for my uprights and ridge-pole, with manilla yarns, and then laid the remainder close together from the ridge-pole to the eaves, projecting over the latter some two feet. These were secured to the ridge-pole by manilla strands, and in the centre of my house a strong forked tree as large as my leg received the ridge-pole from both ends of the house, and sustained it. This cane roofing, which was both light and strong, I thatched heavily with sedge, similar to that with which I had covered my hut. I fastened up the openings that I had left for windows with goat skins for the present, hanging them on wooden pegs which I could remove when the weather was fine. At the rear end of my house I had, I should have said, built me a nice open fire-place and a tall chimney, which I had had to finish after the roof was done, so as to stand upon the latter to carry the chimney up high enough to make it safe to carry away the sparks from my thatch. Into this large, dry, airy, and clean room, I brought by different trips all my worldly goods. I had put out the lamps in the tower at the landing-place hut long ago, having no further need of it, but I still kept it as a receptacle for my spare flint, steel, and tinder, and knew that I could go there to obtain them to start a fire should I by chance be without them on my own person. Whilst my house was in course of construction I had not been idle about a thousand and one other things, but I had let nothing of importance interfere with this--to me--imperative duty. After my house was all finished I commenced setting out round about it, at about fifty paces distant, a species of alder, which I noticed grew rapidly and thickly, and which I foresaw would in a very few years entirely conceal my habitation. When I had gotten things well about me, I found by my journal that I was in the month of March,--in other words, that the summer had passed and that I had been none too soon in preparing myself for the winter, which was yet to visit me. CHAPTER XIII. Make a hatchet of my iron hammer. Make matches and utensils for house. Team of goats, chairs, table, etc. Birch-bark canoe. Arrangements for winter. I have said that when the Hermitage was finished the summer had passed away. Let me describe what the weather had been, and something concerning the climate and fruits and plants that had been coming to maturity, whilst I was hard at work on my house. I found the summer days often hot, but never very unpleasantly so. I experienced the usual amount of rainy weather that it would be natural to find in a similar latitude in the northern hemisphere. There were days, of course, in which it was very hot, and there were other days in which large quantities of rain fell, but upon the whole the climate was delightful, more like that of the inland sea in southern Japan than anything else to which I can compare it. The island was singularly free from fogs and mists, but then I might reasonably look for these later in the season. When the day was very sultry, I had always the beautiful sandy basin of Stillwater Cove to bathe in. So far I had nothing to complain of on this score, and felt confident that the winter would be mild and short. It was about this time that I felt the need of more tools, and especially a hatchet, which I finally concluded to make out of my hammer, which, be it remembered, I had constructed out of the boat's anchor. I took this hammer, and by repeated heatings and beating with a piece of the remaining shank, I forged it into the shape of a hatchet, still leaving the eye as it was when used for a hammer. I then went to the place where I had been cast on shore, and procured some clay like that from which I had made my lamp tower, and formed some rough crucibles by burning them in hot wood fires. Into one of these I put my hatchet-head and filled round about it with small pieces of charcoal and slips of the skin of my goats and small pieces of unburned, soft wood, and carefully sealed up the orifice with a quantity of the moist clay, and cast the crucible into a hot fire; not hot enough to fuse the iron, however, and kept it there, watching it carefully from time to time, nearly three days, when I dragged it out of the flames, broke open the crucible, and took out my hatchet-head, converted into excellent steel of superior hardness and temper. I soon procured a soft species of stone as a whetstone, and by the labor of a few hours brought the edge to a fine degree of sharpness, and, having fitted a handle by means of my knife, I had a splendid instrument to aid me. No mortal ever looked upon the works of his own hands with more admiration than did I upon my steel hatchet. Many things which I had not before deemed possible I could now attempt. After I had made my hatchet I commenced many improvements round about me. I made several trips to my vegetable garden, and saw with the utmost satisfaction that all my seeds had sprouted, and I supplied myself with all kinds of vegetables during the whole season. I took great care to preserve carefully a great plenty of the seeds of each species, and thought more of that than enjoying them, but they were so plenty that I had ample of nearly all for food. My wheat, however, I saved every kernel of for sowing next year. I had by this time several very tame goats tied up about the hermitage, and I made up my mind to break a span or two of them to harness, and for this purpose, as I could not construct wheels, I made a sled by bending two small limbs in the shape I desired, and fastening them by cross pieces, all of which I held together by straps of manilla lashings and by holes burned with a hot nail from one part into the other, into which I drove small pegs of hard, seasoned wood, and finally turned out quite a respectable sled, about twice as large as a common boy's sled, and the runners much wider, so as not to sink into the soil. To this I attached my four goats, making the harness out of the hides of those that I had killed, which I sewed together in good shape with strong manilla twine by means of my bradawl, making real good, strong work. The traces I made by laying up small strands of the manilla rope, and ended by turning out four sets of breast-plate harnesses; strong and durable, and easily adjusted. I found very little difficulty in breaking my team into drawing this sled, and by means of it I brought home many useful acquisitions for my winter's use, but chiefly coal from my coal mine, which was about two miles distant. I used to carry my sled across Rapid River, below the falls, and then drive over my team upon a sort of rocky causeway that I had built so that they did not have to tread very deep in the water, and then, harnessing them up, I used to start for the mine, and by means of the anchor-fluke, I dug out easily enough coal in a short time to load my sled, and dragged it home to the river, whence I transported it across in a basket of willow twigs that I had made in my leisure moments. In this way, before winter, I had at least two tons of coal near the door-way of the hermitage, all handy for winter use. With this same sled and team, I gathered also a large amount of wood, which I could now cut into proper lengths with my hatchet. I constructed of small stones and mortar in one side of my large fire-place, a sort of grate, with a chimney made of sections of pottery pipe manufactured of clay from the landing place, that led up into the main chimney, in which I could burn my coal if I wished to, or make a wood fire beside it. I found very little difficulty in making several clumsy but useful vessels of clay, which I baked successfully and glazed with salt; my book of useful arts and sciences giving me an idea how to do it. My next task was to make matches, and the information necessary for this I also procured from my book. The wood I easily obtained by splitting up small, thin sections of well-seasoned pine with my hatchet, and these again I sub-divided into matches with my knife. I then caught a quantity of fish with my harpoon, which I had no difficulty in doing at any time, especially the small dog-shark species, and chopped up the bones of the head with my hatchet, placing them at a distance from my habitation. These I allowed to putrify till they were luminous with phosphorus, which I gathered carefully in the night-time by separating it from the putrid mass and carefully pressing it. I then procured some turpentine from the resinous trees near to me, and made a mixture of sulphur, phosphorus, and turpentine, which I heated, and into which I dipped each match singly, and laid it aside to dry. I afterwards dipped each into a melted solution of pure spruce gum, very thin, to preserve them from the weather. I made several attempts before I was successful, but at last I obtained the right proportions and made me a stock of matches that worked well if they were used with care, and if the weather was not too damp, when I was often driven to the use of my flint and steel. For winter provisions I visited, with my sled and team, the sweet-potato fields, and laid in a large stock, also picking a quantity of the tobacco plant and curing it for my own use, and this was my greatest solace in my loneliness. I found upon the island a species of gourd, and I soon had in my home a set of these useful utensils, which, by dividing, I also made into bowls and saucers. I also, from Breakwater ledge, procured any number of the large deep mussel-shells, nearly a foot in length, which were useful as receptacles for all sorts of things. I found no difficulty, by a treatment which I found in my book, in preserving, by means of tannin procured from the inner bark of a species of scrub oak with which the island abounded, all the skins of my goats, and I soon gathered together a stock of both tanned and untanned ones, some with the hair on and some with it removed. I hated to attack my friends the seals, and yet it was about this time that I made a trip across the island and killed ten of them for the purpose of procuring their skins, which I added to my stock. I found no difficulty, by means of my knife, in cutting out quite a respectable pair of trousers, and a sort of hunting jacket from the goat-skins; but the sewing of them together was a harder task. Still, before winter set in, I was clothed in quite a nice buckskin suit, and had, with my seal-skins and goat-skins with the hair left on, the withal to make at any time a winter suit that would protect me from the cold, so that I had that trouble off my mind. As for shoes, I easily made me a pair of moccasins of the goat-skin, with the hair side within, which were very comfortable and useful. I also from my skins made me a much more useful and ornamental cap to replace the one of rushes that I had worn throughout the summer. I also made me a nice tobacco pouch, and several other useful articles of skin, including a sort of game bag, which I carried over my shoulder by a broad skin band; this latter was especially useful to me. I also made from my clay several useful but rather clumsy pipe-heads, and with a reed stem I was fitted on this score and had no more fears about breaking my old clay one. For meat for the winter I laid in large stocks of my dried or jerked goat's flesh, and I had little fears on this score, as I could always procure fresh meat now, when I desired it, for my goats had begun to propagate already. From them I already obtained milk, in larger quantities than I had any use for, but had too many things to think of, of more importance than to try at this time to make cheese. I caught in the river large quantities of a species of herring, and also a few fine salmon, which visited the river, but only for a short time, being unable to ascend the falls. All of these I cured by smoking, by building a hut round about them and keeping them for a long time in the densest smoke by burning green wood underneath them. I cured also in this way some few hams of my goats. After having gotten these things about me, I tackled others of less importance, perhaps, but necessary for my comfort. In one of my excursions to the coal-mine I discovered what I felt convinced was limestone, and upon bringing a piece home, and testing it by fire, I found I was correct, so here I had all the lime I should ever need for any purpose, easily procured by burning the stone and gathering up the residue. I now commenced upon the interior of my house, and in the first place made myself a nice hammock of four goat-skins, with the hair inside, which I stretched from the central post of my room to one of the window jambs. I then went to work upon a bed, and cut first with my hatchet four uprights with forked ends, like the letter Y, from as many limbs, about four inches in diameter and three feet high; into these forks I placed two long poles, some two inches in diameter, and fastened them there securely by means of manilla strands. I then braced the ends and sides by lashing, both lengthwise and endwise, poles about one foot from the ground, which kept the whole in shape, and although it was not so strong as if dovetailed together by a cabinet-maker, it answered all purposes, and when pushed up against the wall, in the corner, was further supported upon two sides. Across this I stretched cords of manilla, and over them I laid long, soft, pliable rushes, and over them again seal-skins, with the hair side upward; and I had at last a capital bed. My chairs did not give me so much trouble, for I found two old roots of trees, that, with a little hacking off here and there with my hatchet and a goat skin for a seat, made as easy chairs as any body ever sat in; of course they were too heavy to be moved about, but for all practical purposes they were perfect, and I could rest in them with the greatest comfort and ease. With my clay I easily baked some shallow dishes with a handle, into which I poured my sharks' liver oil and fitted with pith wick and had no want of light. One of these lamps I suspended from the ridgepole in nearly the centre of the room, just clear of the upright, and two or three feet above my head, fitted with three wicks, which, when lit at night gave me a pleasant and abundant light. I made favorites of one or two of my young goats, and used to allow them to occupy the house with me, and became much attached to them, and in the evening when not too busy, amused myself by teaching them to walk on their hind legs, and other playful tricks which seemed for a moment to make me forget my loneliness. I was not satisfied with what I had yet done for the interior of my house, and I therefore went to work, and made myself a table on the same plan as the bed, except that it was higher and much lighter, and across this I stretched a large section of birch bark which I stripped from a tree; this table pleased me so much that I went to work and made a lighter one still for my ink, pens, and books, etc., retaining the other for eating purposes. In fact, before the winter was ended I had four of these tables in the house, which were very handy, and yet after all were not difficult to make. For a door, I cut several canes and lashed them together with manilla rope strands, and hung it by the same material, but it would not open or shut very well, and I was forced to lift it carefully, but then I only closed and opened it once a day, morning and night. The floor of my house troubled me more than anything else, but finally I covered it with a coating of clay that I brought on the sled by repeated trips to the clay field; this I mixed with a quantity of lime and sand and put it down whilst moist, and it formed a sort of cement, and soon became hard and firm, but it was always dusty to a degree and not as clean as I could have wished, but it did very well,--at least, I could think of nothing to improve it. It was at this time, when I seemed to have gotten everything well about me for the winter, which was sensibly approaching, for it was now the month of May, and some of the days had been quite chilly and unpleasant, that I was taken with the insane idea of building a boat. I do not know for what earthly purpose I desired one, except, possibly, I might coast along in Stillwater Cove or the margin of Perseverance Bay and if I found anything that I needed I could transport it better in the boat than any other way. I was well aware that I had no tools to make a boat with, but for that very reason I was determined to make one. I had made up my mind, if I must play the part of Robinson Crusoe, that I would at least prove to myself, if to no one else, that thousands of things can be accomplished by a little ingenuity and contrivance that seem difficult upon first view. For instance, I thought at once of several ways in which I could make a boat: one, by hollowing out a log with my hatchet and by means of fire; another by making a light frame of twigs and stretching skins over it; or still another and very much the best method, by taking the bark from a birch tree and making an Indian birch-bark canoe. This latter was the easiest and simplest, and a plan that I knew something about, so I went about in the woods till I found a splendid great birch that pleased my eye, some two feet or more in diameter, with a bark seemingly without a flaw. It took me nearly a day to build up a kind of platform of wood and stones, so as to reach high enough up the trunk of the tree to make a circular incision with my knife at about fifteen feet from the ground, and then one perpendicular till within about two feet of the ground, where I made another round about the tree, leaving me a strip of bark some thirteen feet in length. This I forced off, using great care not to tear or split it, by means of a series of wedges which I forced in under the bark with my hatchet. At last the piece lay before me upon the ground, and the worst part of my task was done, for I soon brought the ends together, filling them first with melted pitch, and lashed them with thin withes of a kind of willow which I split for the purpose, the same as the Indians do; and having sewed and lashed up both ends, after cutting the bark with my knife in the right shape, I split up with my hatchet long, limber, thin pieces of a species of ash, in the green state, something like hoops to a flour barrel, but somewhat wider and stronger, and with these cut in different lengths, and inserted within the bark, I gave the canoe its shape, the longest, widest, and strongest ones being in the centre, from which they shortened towards each end. Inside of the gunwale the whole length on each side I stretched a pliable cane pole, rolling the bark round about it and sewing the whole down with manilla strands and green withes of willow. It was amazing to see what a beautiful, light, and graceful boat I had produced with only about a week's labor; one that I could put upon my head and carry towards the water with ease. I soon, by means of my hatchet and knife, fashioned out a paddle, and my canoe was complete. I launched her in Stillwater Cove, and she floated like a duck, and was besides of a beautiful model, and, as I well knew, would stand terrific weather if properly handled, being one of the best sea-boats in the world, not excepting the famous Nantucket whale-boats. I was delighted with my success. I did not gather all these things about me without many bitter hours of loneliness and despair; but their constructions and the reading of my book, which I consulted almost nightly, kept me often from miserable repinings. I felt that I was gaining, and that I had not yet done making nature, ingenuity, and industry improve my condition and increase my comforts. CHAPTER XIV. Make chairs, and arrange my house, seal-skins, and goat-skins. Provide provisions for winter. Discover wild grapes, and make wine and vinegar. Find potassium, or saltpetre. Make gunpowder, and by means of my compass discover iron. Thoughts of the future. The completion of my canoe, which I named the "Fairy," was a great delight to me, and I made several trips in her along the coast in Stillwater Cove, and made an exploration near the place where I had first landed. Somewhat into the interior of the island, I came upon what was a great discovery for me,--although I had the seeds amongst my stores, and had already planted some,--and that was grapes, in large and abundant clusters, growing wild and naturally. Here was both food and drink for me, and they were at this time in their prime. From them I could make vinegar, wine, and raisins. I gathered a large quantity, which I placed in the canoe and transported to the Hermitage, and although late in season hung up many bunches to dry in the still quite warm sun, and from the remainder I extracted the juice by pressing them between my hands and catching the liquor in several of my numerous earthen jars. The flavor of these grapes was a little wild, but pleasant and agreeable. I knew that fermentation would take place, and that in time I should have a light claret wine, and thereafter good wine vinegar. To cause fermentation, and to improve the flavor, I put a piece of goat's flesh into each vessel, and covered up the mouths with earthen covers that I had made to each. I was no longer in any fear about expending my manilla rope, for I had some time since begun to use strips of rawhide of the goats skins for lashings, than which nothing could be better, and I also cut many skins into very fine strips after they were tanned, which served me for smaller strings, and even thread for rough sewing. For finer sewing I often used the sinews of these creatures, and I had by this time converted several of my nails into steel, after having pierced them with an eye, and by grinding them down and polishing them upon stones I had made several very good sail-needles, which were extremely useful, and it was a small matter to make a "palm," or sailor's thimble, from the skin of a goat, to go upon the right hand, to force the needle through any material, exactly the same as is done by sailors in all their stitching and sail-making. In place of the little round thimble fixed into the centre of the palm, to receive the head of the needle in pushing, I inserted a flint-stone with a roughened surface, which answered the purpose very well, and I could now do all kinds of rough sewing without the use of my awl, which had been a slow and laborious manner of proceeding. From this time forth I had no difficulty in sewing my jackets and trousers with strong sinews, which held them firmly together in the seams. It is scarcely credible how many things I gathered around about me that were useful as well as ornamental. Before I had done completely furnishing my house I set about making me a movable chair, as well as the easy ones that I had made of old roots, and this I did by means of my hatchet. I procured four smooth limbs of trees, two of which were about four feet in length and two about one foot six inches. The latter were to serve as the front legs, the former as the back legs and also the back of the chair. These limbs were about two inches in diameter, as I did not wish the chair to be heavy, but light and portable. Into all these uprights I bored holes at proper distances by means of my anchor shank, heated to a red heat, which I thrust through them, and cutting smaller round limbs for rungs I forced them into the holes made by the hot iron, and soon had the skeleton of a nice light chair made to my hand. I was so pleased with it that I set about another immediately, and soon had it also finished. It was not at all a difficult job for a mechanic. For the seat of these chairs, upon one I wove rushes thick and strong, and upon the other I laced a fine piece of seal skin with the fur left on. They were both useful and comfortable, but rather straight in the back, like the old ancestral chairs that I used to see in the attics in Vermont. I had got tired by this time shooting at the wild pigeons with my arrows, and found no difficulty in capturing all I wanted by means of snares, made from the hair of my goats, which I set at the watering-place whenever I wanted any of them for food, and gave over firing ten or fifteen shots before I could kill one, when I could capture a dozen in an hour should I need them. I took down my goat-skins at the windows and replaced them by thin skins of the same animal, almost parchment, which gave some light through them, and fastened them up with thorns, driven into the wood, for the winter, the open door giving me, with their subdued light, enough to see by so as to perform all the work that I wanted to inside, and when night came I had my lamps in full blast, for oil cost me nothing. I made, before winter set in, several excursions, in all directions, and especially one in the direction of the mountain that lay upon my right hand, only about a mile from the Hermitage, when I went to the coal-mine. This mountain I made up my mind to ascend, and see if I could not make some new discovery. I fought my way up its steep sides till I had arrived at nearly one-half the distance, apparently, from its summit, when I was halted by the appearance of a small brook that trickled past my feet. I noticed that the water and the stones were both of a brown, rusty color, and it flashed upon me that it must be caused by iron. If I could only find that substance I thought that I could be almost happy, even in my solitude. What could I not do with that metal to aid me? the handling of it would be to me child's play. I could make of it cast-steel, and of cast-steel all manner of tools by means of moulds. This working in iron had been my trade, and I had no occasion to consult my book to know how to avail myself of it should I be so fortunate as to find it. I followed this little trickling brook, not over six inches wide, till it branched into two smaller ones, and, still following the smaller one, traced it till I came to a place where, in a bubbling spring, the water issued from the mountain's side. The discoloration of all the stones near me proved to me that I was near iron, and that the mountain whence the tiny streams issued contained it; but in how large masses I could not judge. I left my little stream and looked about me carefully, to the right and left, for I did not want to pierce the mountain whence the water issued, as I wanted a dryer spot to make my explorations, and knew that if there was iron it would be found near by the brook as well as in the exact spot whence the spring burst forth. I finally, at a little distance to the left hand and rather down the hill, found a place that looked as if it might prove a good locality to prosecute my search. The ground was covered with boulders, of different sizes, and there was quite an opening on the mountain side, the undergrowth being only shrubs and plants, with the trees and groves below me in larger groups. In this opening I set to work, turning over such boulders as I could lift, and there were many that by aid of a handspike, cut from a sapling with my hatchet, I was able to remove and send bounding down the mountain side. I scratched into the side of the mountain in this way till I had made quite a little excavation, but I was obliged to give it up and return home for my pickaxe, as I called my anchor-fluke, and with this instrument, and carrying my dinner with me, I attacked the mountain the next day and made more progress. After working some little, in an irregular way, into the mountain side,--for I had to avoid the heavier boulders and solid stone,--I came upon a crystallized mass between two rocks that seemed to be exuding from the mountain side. It looked something like common salt, and I put some of it in my mouth to see if I could recognize what it was by the taste. It had hardly reached my palate before I sank down upon the earth where I stood, with the excitement of the knowledge of the discovery that I felt sure I had made. My sense of taste told me plainly that I had found saltpetre, and saltpetre meant _gunpowder_! GUNPOWDER! and gunpowder meant strength to protect myself with and power to blow the mountain to atoms to come at my iron should nature try to resist me by enfolding it concealed in its bosom. I grasped my pickaxe and picked out quite a lump of my precious discovery, and started hastily for home. It was too late to do much on that day, as my usual household cares and the milking of my goats and getting supper took up most of my time; besides I wanted to consult my book as to the proportions in which to mix my ingredients to make gunpowder. I knew nearly the right proportions, and felt confident that I could get it exactly by repeated experiment, but I also knew that my book would give it to me exactly and save me much loss of time in this direction. I knew also that willow or alder made the best charcoal for gunpowder, and, thank God, there was no lack of these trees upon the island. If I obtained gunpowder I could make some kind of a gun, for I knew that, in ancient history, cannon even had been made of _leather_, and fired repeatedly without bursting. I could certainly make a tube of some kind, so strongly reinforced with skin and twine and raw hide, that it would stand the discharge of a small quantity of powder without bursting, and if I found iron I would soon solve all the difficulties about a gun barrel, let me once get hold of the raw material in any quantity. A thought struck me in this connection. I would soon prove whether there was iron in the mountain side by taking my compass there on the next trip, and seeing if it was drawn from the true north towards the mountain side, and if so, in what direction: this would tell me how to dig towards my treasure, and not waste time by going in any wrong direction. This seemed a happy thought, and I was jubilant over having conceived it. The only thing that I did to help things along for the morrow was to pick out carefully, from my wood-fire ashes, small pieces of charcoal that I thought would serve my purpose, and to pick off from several pieces of my coal a quantity of sulphur all ready for my experiments. The next morning I set to work in good earnest, and having discovered the proportions in which to add my different ingredients, I soon had the pulverized charcoal, sulphur, and saltpetre together, and then, moistening the mass slightly, I kneaded them together till they were completely incorporated. I then, by a slow heat, dried my gunpowder cake upon hot stones that I heated at the fire and then carried to a distance, first carefully dusting them, and placed my gunpowder paste upon them in an earthen jar to be dried. As my cake was not very large, I was not very many hours in doing this; and as I knew that I ought not to use any iron or stone in pulverizing the mass, whilst this was going on, I procured a smooth rolling-pin made from the round branch of a tree, and smoothed quite a surface on the upper side of a large fallen tree with my hatchet, so that I had a sort of table to roll my powder upon. Again, to prevent all accidents, when my cake was thoroughly dry, I carried it bit by bit, having broken it by a blow of my wooden rolling-pin, to my fallen-tree table, where I crushed it under the roller, putting pieces no larger than my thumb-nail under the roller at one time, so if there should be an explosion, it would be on so small a scale that it would not injure me in the least, should it take place. As fast as this small amount was pulverized, I carried it again to a distance and placed it in a gourd for safe keeping, but I pulverized very little before I interrupted my task to rush with quite a handful to my fire, and, taking a pinch, I cast it into the flame, and, puff, puff, puff, it ignited as it struck the fire, just as the particles used to do in my boyhood days. Even this did not, however, satisfy me. I laid the rest down upon the floor, and standing at a distance with a coal in one end of a cleft stick, touched it, when it exploded as quickly and completely as any ever turned out by any mill. One more proof and I would be convinced. I ran and got from the sea-shore one of the large shells for which I have no name, but which I had formerly used as lamp reservoirs, and going to my powder table, soon pulverized enough to pour a handful into it, and to close up the lips with moist clay, except one orifice; to this I laid a piece of manilla soaked in the dampened powder as a slow match, and having set fire to the same, and retired to a safe distance, I awaited the result. It seemed an eternity before the slow match burned to the orifice, but when I had almost given up hope, in one instant, with a loud report, the sea-shell was burst into a thousand fragments. I was successful; power and strength were added to my resources. I lay down upon the sand by the sea-shore where I had retired to watch the explosion, and fell into a brown study, which enwrapped me, body and soul, for many hours, till I was called to myself again by the decreasing light of the setting sun. The next day I sallied forth, armed with my compass, for the mountain side, and upon arrival I noted the direction of the magnetic north by my compass, the card of which I had released from its packing and set upon its pivot. Having carefully ascertained this, I entered the small hole that I had made in the mountain side, and held the compass in several places against the earth, when the needle turned perceptibly away from the magnetic north and pointed in towards the interior of the mountain, and by several experiments I found out in just what direction I ought to advance, and by the attraction of the needle I felt sure that the ore, which I now was convinced was there, could not be very far distant from where I stood, and that one large blast would lay it open to me. I therefore went to work and gathered quite a quantity of the saltpetre and started for home to make my gunpowder for the blast that was to open up to me my long-sought treasure, valuable to me far beyond any other metal on this earth in the circumstances in which I was placed. In five days' time I found myself in possession of over twenty pounds, I should judge, of good gunpowder. I found by my book that it was not at all peculiar to find potassium as I had found mine, and further, that to purify it I needed to mix it with equal parts of wood-ashes, and then add water and allow it to stand a few hours, and then draw off the lye and place it for three days in the sun, in shallow vessels, to evaporate, and then boil down what was left, to procure absolutely pure saltpetre, all of which I did. And when I had manufactured my powder, and observed by experiment that it was much sharper and louder in explosions than before, showing the improvement of purifying the saltpetre, I placed the whole lot in my goatskin bag and started for the mountain. Arriving at my excavation, I looked about to see what I could do to make my explosion effectual and do the most good. By examination, I found that there was quite a space between the two inner boulders that obstructed my way, and a sort of vent-hole that led, I knew not where. Into this I commenced to pour my powder, and used up over two-thirds of all I possessed before I saw any result. Finally, the crevice, just as I began to despair and thought I had thrown away and lost it all, showed that it was full by refusing to receive any more. As soon as I noticed this, I knew that I had an excellent chance to make a good blast, and I therefore pushed in the powder in sight, and was able, by shoving it downwards, to add at least two pounds more. I then carefully inserted a strand of manilla previously soaked in wet powder, and dried, into the mouth of this crevice, and well down into the powder; I then stuffed the whole with small pebbles and moist earth, and finally placed quite a large rock against the vent, and, with a prayer for success I lighted the fuse and retired to a safe distance to watch the effect. As before, it seemed as if it would never ignite, and I waited and waited, taking care to be well distant and well sheltered behind a large boulder, till finally, with a dull, low, smothered noise, the charge exploded. I was disappointed, and was afraid that my powder was too weak or ill-made, but when I arrived at the spot I was amazed at the execution that had taken place: the whole roof had been uplifted and thrown open, and the boulders that had resisted my further entrance cast to one side, and the whole side of the mountain pierced and opened in a wonderful manner. I dashed into the opening that had been made, and the first fragment that my hand closed upon was pure iron ore. I was like one mad with joy. I acted as insanely as I had once or twice before since landing upon the island, and danced and sang, and ended by sitting down and bursting into tears. Upon further examination I was inclined to believe that the whole mountain was composed of iron, and that I only needed to pierce the crust in any direction to get the precious metal. My discovery lay just about one mile from my home, and quite accessible. I found that the blast had brought to view quite a large surface, on one side, of my saltpetre, whilst further to the southward appeared the iron ore in masses that I could pry out with my pickaxe. After having feasted my eyes long enough upon my treasure, I started down the mountain, smoothing the pathway wherever it was rough, and opening up a way for my team and sled to bring down the ore to the hermitage. I absolutely saw no end to the improvements that I could make now that I had iron to work with. I could do anything within reason, and make anything I chose to make. A thousand and one schemes of escape by its means rose up before me. If at this moment I could have had the companionship of my fellow-kind, I should, I think, have been unable to ask any blessing to be added to my lot. Here was I in evidently one of the finest climates of the earth, with everything about me even now to sustain life, and with many of its luxuries, and with the foundation laid for many more. Upon a close examination of the specimen that I had brought away with me in my bag, home to the Hermitage, and by consultation with my book, I felt convinced that I had discovered what is called magnetic iron; that is, iron ore that is most universally dispersed over the earth. The action of the compass added to this belief, and the limestone formation was exactly fitted to this kind of ore, which is the same as is generally called the Swedish iron ore, one of the best-known irons in the world. The color was a sort of black iron shade, and the ore brittle and attracted by the magnet of my compass; whereas, if my iron ore had been hematite it would have been of a dull steel color, and probably without magnetic properties. How I revelled in what I was going to do. First, I was to build my kiln and put the ore through that to purify it of sulphur, arsenic, water, &c., then to a blast furnace, to be heated with a flux of limestone and coal, and in the melted form run into pigs in the sand of the smelting-room. Once in this melted form I could make, from moulds, chisels, axes, hatchets, plane-irons, and saws, by a treatment of the melted iron ore. By means of blasts of cold air I could change the whole mass into Bessemer steel. With the tools I have named, in my hand, I could go to work at once to erect a sawmill on Rapid River, near the Hermitage, and with the greatest ease saw out all the plank I should want for any purpose under the sun. Then my thoughts strayed away to nautical instruments, some kind of a quadrant, then the latitude and longitude of my island, and then a chart on Mercator's projection from my Epitome; and then turning-lathes, iron boats, electric wire, gunmaking, steam engine and propeller boat, torpedoes for defence, and all the means to escape from this miserable solitude. All these things, I say, ran through my head like wildfire. Nothing was now impossible. I had got my genie, and I was determined to make him work. The weather was getting cooler and cooler, and one or two storms had already warned me of the approach of winter. The leaves began to fall, and the whole island commenced to look dreary and forsaken; the grass, however, retained its freshness in a remarkable degree. It was in the latter part of May that I discovered my iron ore, and I knew that this was the same month comparatively as November would be in the northern hemisphere; and although there had as yet been no actual frost, much less any ice or snow, yet I saw signs, not to be disregarded, that the weather would be more severe and colder before the spring days would come, and yet evidently I had not much to fear from a very great degree of cold, as my theory concerning the climate had so far been singularly correct. I commenced, therefore, at once, without loss of time, to collect my ore by means of my team of goats, and transport it from the mountain to Rapid River. I did not bring it over as I had the coal, for I determined to erect my blast furnace and kiln on the further side, and opposite to my home, as being more convenient in many respects. I worked hard myself, and worked my team hard, in bringing to Rapid River both the iron ore and coal, and also quite a large quantity of the potassium, which I carefully took into the hermitage till I should need it to make more powder. It did not take very many trips, however, after all, to get the iron ore that I should use during the winter, at least, but the coal to smelt it took me longer. After I had gathered all of each that I thought I should need I gave my goats a rest, and set to work to make arrangements for my smelting-furnace, kiln, and smelting-room, and how I proceeded I will now go on to relate. CHAPTER XV. Make a mould for bricks. Build a brick-kiln and make bricks. Build a smelting-house, blast-furnace, kiln for cleansing ore. Meditations. Build water-wheel and fan-wheel, and set my machinery for an air-blast to reduce the ore. In the first place I went to work, and with my knife and hatchet fashioned out two quite smooth pieces of wood about four feet long, three inches wide, and perhaps one inch thick. I smoothed these on one side with a great deal of care, and finished them off by means of dry shark's skin, which stood me admirably in place of sandpaper. I placed these two slips of wood parallel to each other, about four inches apart, and fastened them in that position by means of blocks of wood of the same size and thickness, placed between them at equal distances of about six inches, which subdivided the whole into eight equal compartments, fastening the cross-pieces in by means of hardwood pegs driven into holes in the side, made by a red-hot nail. When my labor was finished my affair looked like a set of pigeon holes, such as are used in an office, except they were open on both sides and had no back, and each compartment was four inches wide, three inches deep, and six inches long. This was an insignificant looking thing in itself, and, except the smoothing of the inside in all parts, was not a labor of any great magnitude, and yet by means of this instrument I intended to make a great stride forward in civilization. The thing that I had made was a press or mould for bricks. I do not know the technical name, but I knew that if I placed this instrument upon the level hewn side of any fallen tree for a table, and filled each compartment with clay properly moistened, I should at each filling and emptying turn out eight equal-sized, unburned bricks, all ready for the kiln. To enable me to prosecute this work I moved for a few days to the landing-place, where clay in abundance was to be found, and where my old hut would give me shelter. When I say I moved there for a few days I should say that I came home to the Hermitage every second day to care for my flock of goats and look after my household cares. Upon my arrival at the clay pits I soon set to work, and my clay was so pure that I had little trouble in moulding it; and, after having fixed a smooth plane upon a fallen tree as a table for the bottom of my mould, by levelling the same with my hatchet, smoothing with my knife, and finishing with my shark-skin sandpaper, I set to work moulding, getting my water at a short distance inland from a boggy piece of ground abounding in springs, which existed right under my nose, a little to the left, when I was so anxiously distilling water upon my first arrival at this very spot. I transported this water, by means of gourds and my canister, easily, to the clay pits, and soon had a fine array of bricks, the moulding being simple, and I found I could work quite fast; and by means of my knife and a sharp clam-shell or two, and with a large mussel-shell for a shovel, I had no difficulty in filling the mould quickly and trimming off all superfluous clay very rapidly. As fast as I finished one set I dashed the mould over with fresh water, so that the next lot moulded would slip out easily after being carefully pressed in. As fast as I made the bricks I allowed them to lie for a day or two in the air till they hardened, and then commenced to pile them up in shape to be burned and perfected into bricks. As a boy I had often examined brick-kilns, and I knew that I must make, or rather leave, a sort of oven under them, and, throughout the whole pile, apertures through which the flames and heat would penetrate so as to bake the whole mass. I built my kiln with care and on the above principles, and in less than a week had a goodly array of bricks all built up in complete form. I then with my goat team drew to the kiln all the old dead wood I could manage, and with my hatchet cut it into suitable lengths to be thrust into my ovens, for I had three of them in the whole pile, and with great glee set fire to them all one evening, and saw that they had a good draft and burned fiercely. I worked like ten men to keep these fires perpetually going, and, prepared as I had been in the commencement by laying in a large supply, I, with the aid of the team of goats, was able to keep up with them and feed them regularly. I do not remember now how many days I burned these bricks, but it was very easy to examine them and see when they were sufficiently hardened and burned; and when they suited my eye, and I experimented upon several by breaking them open, I let the fires gradually go down, and found myself in possession of a nice stack of bricks, fit for any purpose. These, as they cooled, I transported in the canoe to the landing opposite to the Hermitage, where I had determined to arrange all my appurtenances for smelting the iron ore. In the first place I commenced a house or workshop, about twenty feet long and twenty wide, by building up walls of stone, as I had done for my Hermitage, but in a much rougher and coarser manner, without foundations, and very much lower, not over six feet in height. Over this I erected the usual bamboo roof and rushes for thatch, with one opening for a window, and one for an entrance, in opposite sides. The floor of this room I covered with pure white sea-sand for one half, and the other half with soft, pulverized, dry, clayey loam that would do me for castings. In one end of this smelting-house, as I called it, with the feeding-place outside, I built, in an aperture in the wall left for that purpose, a solid blast furnace of my bricks, which I lined with my pottery cement, and made in every way complete to receive the ore and smelt it. This was to me, except the manual labor, boy's play. The opening for the fused iron was within the smelting-house, and I could run the ore on to the sandy floor in channels made for that purpose, and thus procure my pig iron or Bessemer steel as the case might be. In this blast-furnace I left several channels to be connected in some way with a blast of cold air, for without this blast I could not of course expect to smelt the ore. To improve the draught, and to have Nature help me all possible, I built the chimney or cone of the blast furnace at least twenty feet high, of bricks, tapering the same in a cone form from the base to the apex. I worked upon this matter like a beaver, and felt well satisfied with my work when it was done. My smelting-house stood quite near to Rapid River Falls on the further side, for I had foreseen that I should have to use some power to get up speed to move some kind of a fan wheel, and I knew that I could only do it by means of water, and had therefore, for that very reason, placed the house near to the bank and had built the blast-furnace on the end of the house nearest the river. After finishing my blast-furnace completely I left it to dry and harden, and set to work at my roasting-kiln, on which my ore was to be first purified and cleansed. This was comparatively an easy affair, and was made wholly of bricks, underneath which large fires could be built, and through the numerous interstices the flame would reach the ore placed upon the bed above; the flame, after passing through and over the ore, to be carried out at the other end of the bed by means of a brick chimney about twelve feet in height, high enough to give a good draught. As soon as I had my kiln done I commenced drying it by lighting a fire under it, and found that it had a good draught and would answer my purpose admirably. I then went to work again with my team of goats, and dragged near to the smelting-house all the dead wood--and there were large quantities of it--that I could lay hands upon, that was anyway near or convenient. Being now in the month of June, I found the mornings often quite snappishly cold, and was glad of a little fire often in my home. But I worked so hard in these days that I scarcely had time, after finishing my supper, to smoke a pipe of tobacco before I was ready to throw myself upon my seal-skin bed and fall asleep. In these times I worked so hard and persistently that I often cooked enough corned meat to last me a week at a time, and could always draw upon my stores of salted fish and smoked salmon, and goats' hams, vegetables, etc., whenever I needed them. Of course many days I was unable to work in the open air on account of rain and storms. Those were the times that I took to improve my clothing, patch up my moccasins, and make up warm skins for the cold weather; look after my little flock of goats, which often strayed away short distances, but by being careful to feed them each night regularly on a little delicacy of some kind, mostly sweet potatoes, they always came back to the shelter of a nice warm shed that I had constructed for them near my home, made on exactly the same principle as my hut at the landing-place. It would take too long to enumerate the various little articles that I had gathered around about me, and how perfectly my mind was at rest on the following subjects: First, that I could not suffer for want of food, for I had enough and to spare of everything; amongst many others the following principal ones,--dried goats' flesh, jerked goats' flesh, smoked goats' flesh, smoked goats' hams, wild pigeons, eggs, fresh fish for the catching, smoked and salted herring and salmon, sweet potatoes, cabbages, turnips, beets, etc., vinegar, wine, salt, milk, etc. Second, that I had a large quantity of nice skins, both cured and uncured, of seals and goats, to last me a lifetime; with fuel, light, and covering against all contingencies, and tobacco for my solace. Third, that I felt confident and perfectly satisfied that the island was uninhabited and unknown, and I went to sleep each night without fear of being interrupted on the next day. My nerves had wholly regained their tone, and I was grown strong, rugged, and hearty, whilst my experiments with my iron ore and my hard work upon the smelting-house gave me the necessary incentives to keep me from thinking of my own sad fate. I saw such a future before me, could I have iron in all its forms ready to my hand, that I was kept in a state of excitement just right for my temperament, and was restrained thereby from gnawing at my own heart with bitter regrets which would avail me nothing. I do not mean to say that I did not have bitter and dreadful moments of despair and utter hopelessness, but these occurred usually in the evening when I felt my loneliness the greater than when I was at work in the open air. But I began to dispel this even by giving another current to my thoughts, making my pet goats go through their little series of tricks to amuse me and draw me away from myself. A good smoke at my pipe, and a glass of quite fair claret wine used often at these times to freshen me up and dispel my mournful thoughts. When these would not work I used to seek oblivion from my thoughts by plunging into my "Epitome" and studying out some problem that would aid me in, at some future day, fixing the latitude of my island, or else amused myself by reading something from my book of useful arts and sciences that might be of service to me some time. Up to this season of the year no snow had as yet fallen, but ice had skimmed the little fresh-water pools outside of the main river, and some few nights had been cold outside; but, thanks to God who had been so merciful to me, I was warmly clothed and housed, and had nothing to fear from wind or weather. During some of the stormy days I puzzled over the problem of how I was to get blasts of air forced into my furnace. And this is how I did it eventually. I cleared away a small portion of the fall of Rapid River, so that the water rushed with great force through a sort of flume of about four feet in width and three feet deep. I secured and regulated this floor by means of a series of gates and pieces of wood that I drove into the soil on either side. I procured them by cutting a tree, about twelve inches in diameter, into sections of about five feet in length with my hatchet, by infinite labor, and splitting them with hard-wood wedges into long rough clapboarding or scantling about an inch thick and I had no time to smooth them, but had to use them as they came to hand, rough from being split with the wedges; but as the wood was straight-grained I got quite a quantity of very fair pieces of board that suited my purpose, although not smoothed. I drove these, as I have said, into each side of the flume in the dam to protect the sides from being washed away, and arranged a sort of gate so as to keep all water from passing through when I so desired. It was a bungling sort of a job, and not very strong, but answered my present purposes quite well. I then went to work upon my water-wheel, which I intended to hang in this flume, and, by opening the gate above, allow the water to flow down upon it with great force and turn it, so as to obtain motion, and power to which to connect pulleys and wheels on the land side upon the axle of the wheel. I studied long over the formation of this wheel, and finally constructed it by taking for the axle a smooth, strong limb of a hard-wood tree, about four inches in diameter, and apparently perfectly circular in form. From this I stripped the bark, polished it with shark's skin, and cut it off so as to leave it about seven feet in length. I then, by means of rawhide and willow withes, fastened, at right angles to this axle, light but strong arms made of cane, extending about three feet in each direction from the main axle. These I again strengthened by means of crosspieces parallel to the main axle, which I bound across the arms, and over these again lighter canes yet, crossing the whole fabric from the extremity of one arm to the base of another, till I had a framework of a wheel, light and fragile to be sure, but very tough and well bound together, and each withe and rawhide string set well taut and securely fastened in real sailor style,--and sailors can make immensely strong articles bound together only with string, the secret being that they know how to make each turn do its work, and how to fasten the whole securely. I sunk into the ground on each side of the flume a strong post of wood some eight inches in diameter, each ending at the top in two natural branches, or a crotch, like the letter Y, which I smoothed out by means of my knife and fire so as to receive the axle of my wheel and allow it to revolve in them. These posts I set in the ground very deep and very securely, and battered down stones around their foundation, and braced them also with other stakes driven into the ground near to them, at an angle, and lashed securely to them. Upon my framework of the wheel I tied on, with rawhides, slats or "buckets," as they are called, of my split clapboarding, to be acted upon by the water and cause the wheel to revolve. Outside the axle, upon the shore side, I fitted a wheel of cane, about three feet in diameter, constructed in the same way as the main wheel, but not more than six inches in width. This was to receive a belt to communicate the power and motion of the water-wheel to a series of pullies that I was yet to make. After getting the wheel in place, and the axle set in the crotches of the two uprights, I opened my gateway and saw with pleasure that it revolved very rapidly, evenly, and with great strength. I also observed that the paddles were submerged just as they ought to be, only about a foot in the water, and that the rest of the wheel revolved in air. I also discovered that I could regulate the speed exactly by letting a larger or smaller quantity of water into the flume by means of my gate. I did not do all this without infinite detail and hard work, and it was at least a month before my wheel was completed and hung in its position. This brought me into July, and now I commenced to see ice form in the smooth pools near the river, and once, upon the fifteenth, was visited with a severe snow storm, but a day or two of pleasant weather soon carried it off. There were days also in this month when storms arose and lashed the ocean into monstrous billows, and at these times I visited the breakwater and East Signal Point and looked upon its grandeur. These were the days in which I felt blue and dispirited. But I also knew that the winter must ere this have reached its greatest severity, and although it was now really cold and everything frost-bound, yet it was not like zero weather at home. There were more mild and pleasant days than cold and unpleasant ones. There was evidently a warm current of the ocean embracing the island and keeping the climate mild. I felt confident that cold weather would soon be gone, and that I had nothing to fear on that account, for I found no difficulty in keeping myself perfectly warm at any time in the open air by a little exercise. As for my moccasins, they were warmer than any shoes I had ever worn, and my skin clothing was, even in this winter weather, uncomfortably warm, and on mild days I often used to change my sealskin coat that I had made myself for one of pliable goatskin leather without any hair upon it. My water-wheel I found was, although wonderfully light, of excellent strength, and when I constructed it I was well aware of the tough properties of the cane used in its formation, which might writhe and give, but would not break. I kept the axle down in the crotches or "journals" formed for it, by means of greased straps of rawhide, so that it could not jump upward, and yet would revolve easily without being bound or cramped. My next task was to connect my water-wheel with a series of pullies on the shore and near to the blast-furnace, so as to force a column of air into and through the ore that I intended to smelt, by means of the different channels that I had left for that purpose when building it, all of which ended or entered into one opening in the side nearest the water-wheel. Near this opening I built, at about three feet distant, a little room completely of brick, about two feet wide and six feet high, with the narrow end pointing towards the opening in the blast-furnace that connected with all the interior air-channels that I had left when building it. This room I covered on top with flat stones firmly cemented down, and closed it up air-tight, except an opening left in the brickwork at the top, six inches in diameter. Opposite the opening into the blast-furnace, which was at the same height, and on the two sides of the structure, equidistant from the ground and the top, I left two similar holes in the brickwork, and opposite to them planted two stakes in the form of the letter Y. In other words, I constructed this building to contain a wheel similar to my water-wheel, about six feet in diameter, which was to revolve in air instead of water, and force a column into the blast-furnace. I should say that I made such a wheel with paddles and hung it in its bearings before putting on the top of flat stones or building up all around it. When completed I had a wheel enclosed in an air-tight place, the paddles of which would, when revolving, push the air into the opening left at the top of the end facing the blast-furnace. Around about the axle on each side the openings were not closed, purposely; for it was here that the machine was to suck in the air which it discharged into the blast-furnace opening by means of a tube made of goatskin which connected the two together. On the outside of the axle I built a small and very light wheel of cane, only a foot in diameter, to receive the pulley for the wheel on the axle of the water-wheel. I had only to connect these two together and my task was done. The two pulleys were distant about fifteen feet, and I had to make a band of goatskin, about three inches wide, over thirty feet in length, to connect the two. This I did by cutting strip after strip and sewing them strongly together in length till I completed my band. I had only to place this upon my pulleys, open the gate, let on the water, and the task would be finished. Having arranged everything so as to be all ready the next day, I got across the river on my stepping-stones, and went to my home to think matters over. I knew, as a mechanic, that the affair would work, and that I had much more power even than I had any need of. But I could not rest. I should not be content till on the next day I saw all the wheels, already greased and lashed into their sockets with rawhide, revolving by the mere motion of my lifting the gateway and letting on the water. I smoked and thought and paced my room for hours, and finally, when I went to bed from sheer weariness of mind and body, I passed a disturbed night. Morning saw me bright and early upon my feet, and, snatching a hasty morsel of food, I started for the smelting-house, got out my band and stretched it from pulley to pulley, and with trembling hands went to the gateway at the dam and let on the water to my undershot water-wheel. It did not hesitate a moment to obey the force of nature and the law of mechanics, and the volume of water had scarcely struck the paddles before the whole apparatus began to work, the axle to revolve, and the band to move. [Illustration: OPENING THE WATER GATE.--PAGE 164.] I let on a very little head of water first, and rushed to my fan-wheel. There it was, moving with great rapidity, and the connecting goatskin bag was evidently distended with air. Thence I rushed to the other side of the blast-furnace, where the feeding-place for fuel was, and by casting in small, light objects saw them sucked up the chimney at once. I was successful. I had at least ten times the power that I needed for my purpose. I rushed back to the dam and cut off the water, perfectly content with the experiment without bringing any shock upon my machinery by putting on a full head of water, which I saw I did not need, as my fan-wheel, as I supposed, was turned with the utmost ease, having no resistance except the air. I could do nothing more this day but admire my handiwork, and arrange little matters here and there to perfect the whole affair and get ready for my first smelting of the ore. CHAPTER XVI. Smelt my iron and make Bessemer steel and all kinds of tools. Erect an anvil and forge. Build a saw mill, and plant a farm and kitchen garden. Having gotten everything all ready for my purpose, I placed, as nearly as I could judge, about a ton of the broken ore in my kiln to be roasted or calcined, and after this was accomplished, I transferred it to my blast furnace and added to the calcined ore about a ton and a half of half-burned coal, and one-third of a ton of limestone; these being the proper proportions, as I was well aware. Under this, and around it, I placed a large amount of coal fuel, and having ignited it by means of a large quantity of wood placed under the whole mass, I went, when it was well started, to my gateway on Rapid River, and set my machinery agoing, which started the fan-wheel, which immediately created a terrific blast, and the whole furnace was soon in a glow. I kept this up by feeding new fuel, till by certain signs I felt confident that the mass of ore was smelted, when I shut down my gateway so as to regulate the blast to its minimum and keep the fan-wheel just revolving. I then dug away the clay at the orifice of the blast-furnace that opened into the smelting-room, and had the supreme satisfaction of seeing the molten ore flow out like water into the furrows of sand that I had formed and excavated to receive it. I had made this furrow for a purpose also, and had something in mind when I formed the sand mould, something like a foot in depth and eighteen inches in length, exactly under the nozzle of the delivery orifice of the furnace. The molten ore ran into this rapidly and soon filled it, forming a rough block of iron a foot thick, a foot wide, and eighteen inches long. When the fiery fluid had completely filled this, I shut off the discharge by thrusting some moist clay into the orifice. This block that I had just made was to be my anvil, and as it was large and would take time to cool, I directed the orifice of the furnace to one side by means of a clay channel, so that the next discharge should not interfere with it; and as my desire was now to get steel in smaller quantities so that I could use it, I drew narrow and shallow channels through my sand at quite long distances from the blast furnace, but all coming together in one deep channel under the orifice, but spreading to different parts of the smelting house, as the ribs of a fan do from the point at which they are collected. Into these channels I allowed the remainder of the molten ore to flow, and it extended itself through all these minor channels, and when it was cool I had several long bars of cast steel that, on my anvil, I could work up into any form. After a few days, when my anvil was perfectly cool, I mounted it upon a block of wood and commenced to build a forge near by it, of brick and stone, into the fire-place of which I led a branch flexible tube of goat's skin from the fan-wheel, which I could easily detach and connect, and which gave me a blast instead of the usual bellows. At this forge I worked for a week steadily, turning out the simplest and most necessary tools, such as chisels, hammers, hatchets, axes, nails, bolts, plane irons, gouges, etc., which I tempered and hardened when needful. I also made myself tongs and shovels, pickaxe, and crowbars, and as fast as one tool was made at my forge, such as a pair of tongs and a hammer, I had means to make others better and rapidly. In this week I saw treasures gather up about me fast, and, having finished my iron work, I set to, to arrange them into tools. In the first place, by means of cold chisels, I cut out from a large mass of soft stone, that seemed as if it would suit my purpose, a grindstone some two feet in diameter; this I set up on two standards and connected with my water wheels. By means of this I could sharpen and bring into shape all the rough pieces of iron tools that I had forged out, and I had no difficulty in sharpening all my axes, planes, hatchets, chisels, etc., and, when necessary, giving them a finer edge on a whetstone, which I had found to suit my purpose. After getting these all in shape, my next task was to affix handles to them. This was not difficult to do, and it is hardly credible how soon I had my shop hung round about with useful tools. I soon had my planes in order, and my work then commenced to have a finish that it had before lacked. I did not stop here, however, for I was now in my element. I was ambitious of producing much better tools than I had yet finished by the very means that I already had, made to my hands, for creating them. I hope it is understood that the result of my smelting was not common iron, but what is known as Bessemer steel. By the numerous air passages through the ore and my fan-wheel, I had been enabled to turn out the result in steel in bulk by what is called the Bessemer process, leaving the metal all ready to my hand for tools, etc. This steel was not hard enough for some purposes for which I needed it, and having forged some pieces into the proper shape, I treated them to the crucible and blast, having beforehand stamped them with a cold chisel, and finally turned out some splendid files, which was what I most needed to advance in my iron work. As a boy, I used to be expert in this case-hardening of files and steel, and my knowledge now stood me in excellent need. As soon as I got my files made, I felt as if I could make anything, and my next smelting procured for me--for it only took about twelve or fourteen hours to smelt--some thin sheets of steel, which I set to work upon to smooth by means of my grindstone, so as to make hand-saws; and, of a larger and thicker piece, two fine up-and-down sawmill saws, destined for my sawmill yet to be built. All of these I sharpened and hardened to the necessary temper, and by this time I discovered that my iron was of an excellent quality and as tough as possible. I had never seen finer, even in imported Swedish iron so much sought for at home. I think that the pleasantest noises I had yet heard since arriving on the island was my axe cutting into the side of a tree; my saw splitting the same into small boards when needed; and my planes smoothing these easily to a fine level surface. I did not attempt to saw out one board more than I needed, for I intended that my sawmill should do all that for me, and the planing too without much trouble on my part. So I set to work at this matter in earnest and cast me an axle for my water wheel, which I concluded to erect on my own side of the river. This wheel that I made was not much like the other, but was of wood and iron, strong and well built, and fastened with iron bolts, and set in iron sockets. I dug away quite a space of the natural fall of Rapid River, and erected a strong flume and gateway, so as to control my wheel perfectly. I took little pains with the covering of my mill, making it hastily and with little care; but the foundations I laid out well and strong, and built it parallel with the side of the river, and had running down into the latter, from the mill, smooth timbers at an angle of about forty-five degrees, on which I intended, by means of my goats or the machinery of the mill itself, to "parbuckle" the logs up into the mill in front of the saw. For a mechanic the arranging of my mill was an easy task, not easy in its details, being laborious and hard, but easy I mean in its mechanical construction, which did not give me a moment's thought. About six weeks saw it all finished and everything in place; revolving knives for my planing-machine and a splendid up-and-down saw for my log-splitting. Of course all my machinery was of a different style, now that I had means to work with, than the rude wheels on the other side of the river. I had before me a good, substantial sawmill--rather rough, to be sure, in some details, but I did not care for that. Nobody, I am sorry to say, would ever look upon it and find fault with its want of finish. Having this all done, I launched the "Fairy" above the falls and paddled up the river for about half a mile, marking on either bank with my axe the trees I wished to cut down--some of pine and cedar, and others of a hard, dark wood, like walnut, that I knew not the name of. A week's hard work with the axe saw some twenty of these in the water and floated to the dam, whence I rolled them out of the water as I needed them, and cut them into the requisite lengths for my sawmill, when I pushed them by handspikes again into the stream, and floated them in front of my inclined planes, up which they soon mounted by rolling themselves over and over in the two bights of a rope at each end, being slowly wound by the machinery of the mill on a drum inside, or, in other words, as sailors would say, "parbuckled" into the mill, where a few movements of the handspike put them in position on the cradle in front of the saw. Let it suffice for me to say that in a week or two I had all the planed boards that I should need for years, and also plank and joist nicely piled outside the mill, and covered with a light roof of rushes and cane from the rain and sun. It was a great thing for one man to be able to do so much, but then I had now got a start where nothing could stop me. Nature was under my thumb; I was the master. All these works in iron, steel, and mill-building brought me to spring-like weather, in the month of October, and I began to see signs of returning summer. I hastened, therefore, to drop all these matters, and put myself and goats seriously to work to provide for my coming wants in the vegetable line, and for this purpose went to the landing-place and cleared a space of I should think an acre with a light subsoil plough and two yokes of goats, and planted the whole with different kinds of the seeds that I still had on hand, and which I had preserved. About this open space, or natural glade, were the usual trees and shrubs of the island, and with my axe I made them serve at distances for posts, filling in the intervals with limbs and shrubs, and, where absolutely necessary, using some of my precious boards, till I had made a very coarse, rough, but serviceable fence about my garden that goats or other animals could not get through and destroy the young vegetation when it should sprout up. It was here that I sowed some of my precious wheat, retaining a little in case of accident. In this garden I planted seeds that would mature late in the season, and would in a measure take care of themselves. Near the Hermitage I laid out a similar garden, with the same kind of fence, but not more than one hundred feet square. In this I planted all the little things that I needed at hand for my table, such as cucumbers, tomatoes, beans, radishes, celery, blackberries, strawberries, lettuce. I found that my apple and pear seeds had taken root, for I visited them before winter had set in, and I took this opportunity, in ploughing, to manure with chopped fish the circular places that I had planted before the winter, and care to avoid turning up with the ploughshare any of the soil where these precious seeds were buried, and where the small, slight stems, leafless, now protruded. Spring came rapidly forward, and I found myself in almost warm weather and pleasant days before I had finished all my gardening, which was near the end of September. These tasks nearly finished the year for me, within a month and a few days, and what had I accomplished? On Thursday, November 9, 1865, I was, by the providence of God, saved when all my shipmates were lost. I had been preserved for some good purpose evidently, or else the hand of the Almighty would have swept me out of existence with my messmates. On that terrible day in November I was cast on shore, with scarcely any food, no hat, no coat, and without water. With no aid but that given me by God, and by the use of my own hands and brain, I was to-day sitting in front of my home, erected by myself alone. In this short space of time, one year, I had wrested from Nature many things, showing the supremacy of mind over matter, and knowledge, over ignorance and sloth. I had in this year made fire without the aid of matches, distilled salt water to procure fresh, made myself implements of defence, and erected towers of perpetual lamps, made myself flint, steel, and tinder, bows and arrows, fish-hooks and lines; discovered coal, sulphur, saltpetre, and iron, and captured goats, fish, seals, birds, etc., and at the end of the year found myself sitting at my house door surrounded with my flock of goats, my garden and farm planted, my mill and smelting-house in running order, my canoe at my feet in the quiet water of the cove, and everything about me that could please or charm the eye. From absolutely nothing I had created everything; that is to say, the ground was now so laid out that in the future I saw no end to the daring attempts that I should make, and could make with every chance of success. I felt, now that the year was ending, that my hardest work was done; that I had so much now to do with, that all that I should now undertake would be comparatively easy; but then, on the other hand, my ambition was so great that I could see things in the dim future that would tax the strength and brain of any man to consummate, but which from my temperament and loneliness I knew I should be forced to attempt. Many problems were already turning themselves over in my head, and from them I picked out this one, What is the position of your island in latitude and longitude? I gave myself this as a special task, and whilst I was at work at little matters around about the Hermitage my mind kept asking me (for it had no one else to talk to), What is the position of your island in latitude and longitude? and it was repeated so often and so persistently that I tried to answer it, which I did in the following manner, as you shall hear. CHAPTER XVII. Make an astrolabe, and obtain the latitude of the island, and, by an eclipse of the moon, the longitude also. By means of the Epitome make a chart on Mercator's projection, and find out the distance from any known land. I found in my book a description of an instrument used by the ancients to ascertain altitudes and to measure angles, called an Astrolabe, which, upon careful study and examination of the cut, I felt confident would serve my purpose admirably. So to work I went, and in this manner. I made first a strong four-legged stool or bench, about three feet in height and four feet long, and two feet wide upon the top. I then took some nice planed pieces of my dark hardwood and made a smooth surface about an inch thick and five feet square. On this, afterwards to be erected on the stool at right angles like an inverted letter T, I drew a circle with a pair of immense dividers that I made for this purpose, taking in all the area possible, which made my circle about fifty-nine inches in diameter, leaving a margin of one inch,--supposing my inches to have been of the right length; and this I determined by the length of the knuckle of my thumb, which I formerly used for quick measurement, and from which standard I constructed the only rule I ever have used on the island. How nearly correct it is I have no means of knowing. This groove I impressed into the wood by repeatedly turning the dividers around the circumference. I then went to work and subdivided this circle into degrees and minutes, which I did by marking the circle once across at any angle passing through the centre mark, and then by another mark crossing this one at exactly right angles, which I determined by means of my dividers--as laid down in Bowditch's Epitome--by the use of them at equal distances from the centre on the line already marked, sweeping them till the two lines crossed beyond the circumference, making a small mark there so as to erect a perpendicular on the base already drawn. This cut my circle at once into quadrants of 90° each, and these were subdivided again in like manner. I made the circle large on purpose, so as to be able to mark it plainly to sections of one minute each, and by its size to avoid any error in any angle, the chances of which were greatly decreased by every inch of diameter. As I constructed it, I had nearly one-half an inch of circumference to mark sixty minutes upon, and as I only subdivided one of the quadrants it did not take me very long, each degree being represented by a space slightly smaller than a half inch, which was a good large scale to work upon. Having finished the marking of my board I nailed it firmly to the stool in an upright position, with the quadrant, that I had carefully subdivided on the marked circumference, pointing with one of its angles to zenith, and the other on a line with the top of the stool. I then procured a nice straight piece of cane some six feet in length and about an inch in diameter, and with a heated rod of iron burned out all the pith between each joint till I had made a nice tube of that length. Just within the aperture at one end I fastened with a little fish glue a large strong hair from the beard of one of my goats. I then fastened, by means of a hole through the centre of my upright disc, this tube or telescope to it on the side that was subdivided into degrees, and about an inch from the face. I fastened this so that it was held firmly in place, and yet could be moved upon its centre by the pressure of my hand on either arm. This tube I then furnished with a small delicate pin on the outside, in an exact line with the stretched hair inside the tube, and pointing to the degrees and minutes on the marked circumference on the disc, which it almost touched. In other words, if I moved one arm of the tube, the needle on the outside would follow the grooved circumference on the disc, and upon being released would mark some given degree or minute. Having gotten this machine all in order and complete, I placed it one day so as to examine the sun near noon, and here is how I obtained my latitude. What I was doing now was not so very difficult. I well knew that there were several ways to determine latitude. I was aware that the difference of a minute or two even in my altitude, as apparently observed, would not disturb my computation more than a mile or so. In fact each minute marked upon the disc practically stood for one mile of latitude, and the mean of several observations would correct even any errors from this cause. I waited till I knew that it was nearly noon by the appearance of the sun, and then commenced operations. In the first place I aimed my tube at the sun, and to be able to do so without injuring my eye, I would say that I had fitted the orifice of the tube nearest to me with a piece of smoke-colored membrane or backbone of the squid, which is as transparent as glass, and very thin and delicate. Having, by moving the tube with my hand, brought the sun so that it seemed to stand upon the hair in the outer end of the tube, or like a great capital O upon a base line [O_], I left it carefully in that position for a moment or two, and then applied my eye again, and found, as I supposed, that the sun no longer seemingly rested upon the hair in my tube, but had risen, which forced me to again lower the arm nearest me and elevate the other extremity, and proved to me that it was not yet noon, and that the sun had not yet reached the meridian. This I did many times, till at last the sun seemed for a minute or so to stand still, as sailors say, and I knew that it was at meridian. I took good care not to touch the instrument, but waited quietly till, by glancing through it, I saw in a few moments the disc of the sun, or lower limb as it is termed, begin to drop below the hair in my tube, and I was then positive that it had passed the meridian. Being assured of this, I went carefully to the marked circumference on the upright disc and noted carefully the degree and minute to which the needle in the side of the tube pointed, which in this case was 54° 51'. Having carefully marked this down with ink upon birch bark, I went again to the other end of the tube, and, elevating it, brought the outer end down toward the sea till the hair and the horizon seemed to be one. I then again carefully observed the degree and minute at which the needle pointed, which in this case was 7° 16', and my task was done; for, by subtracting 7° 16' from 54° 51' I obtained 47° 35', which was exactly the apparent altitude of the sun at noon on September 22, 1866, civil account; and, having that, it was easy to determine the latitude in the following manner:-- At noon observe the altitude of the sun's lower limb bearing North 47° 35' Add for semi-diameter, dip, etc. 12' ---------- 47° 47' Subtract from 90° 00' ---------- Sun's zenith distance 42° 13' S. Declination for longitude, say 115° W 8' S. ---------- Latitude by observation 42° 21' S. Thus I demonstrated the latitude of my island; but now for the longitude. To obtain that I knew that I must first ascertain the time at the island: I could do nothing without that; for longitude was, as I well knew, simply time changed into degrees. I thought of fifty different ways to obtain correct time, but believed none of them sufficiently accurate for my purpose. I could make a sundial for one thing, find out the length of the day by the Epitome and Nautical Almanac, make candles to burn such a length of time, sand to run down an inclined plane at such a rate, but none of these would do. The difference of a minute, or one-sixtieth of a degree, in an observed altitude would only affect, as I have said, my latitude just one mile, whilst an error of time of one minute from true time would, as I was well aware, throw my longitude out just fifteen miles; hence it behoved me to have exact time if I desired to get exact longitude, and therefore I saw nothing for it but that I must construct a clock, and at it I went. It was not such an enormous undertaking after all. Of course I should make it of wood, and in my boyhood I knew many wooden clocks that kept excellent time; besides, if I could only construct something that would keep time for an hour or two without much error, it would answer my purpose. If I had a clock that I could set at noon by my observation, nearly correct, I could correct it perfectly by an afternoon observation, and have for an hour or so true time, even if it did gain or lose a few minutes in twenty-four hours. So to work I set, and soon turned out the few small wheels necessary, and the weight and pendulum for the same. I spent little time upon the non-essentials, but put it together inside my house on the wall, open so that I could get at it, and furnished it with wooden hands and a thin wooden face. After I had arranged it and found that it would tick, and by observations at noon for a few days been able to regulate the pendulum, I went diving into the Epitome and the Nautical Almanac as to how I should utilize it so as to get my longitude, after all; when one evening, in turning over the Nautical Almanac, which was calculated for 1866, 1867, 1868, and 1869, my eye fell upon the following, and I felt that my task was done:-- Total eclipse of the moon, September 30,1866, invisible at Greenwich, visible in South America, South Pacific Ocean, and parts of Africa, Asia, and Indian Ocean. FORMULA (CIVIL ACCOUNT). Day. Hour. Min. Moon enters penumbra 30 5 44 A.M. Moon enters shadow 30 6 53 " Total phase begins 30 8 49 " Total phase ends 30 9 39 " Moon leaves shadow 30 10 45 " Moon leaves penumbra 30 11 55 " This was all I needed to verify my longitude past peradventure, and I went to work at once, calculating when the eclipse ought to take place, nearly, with me. At a rough calculation I knew that my island was situated somewhere between the 110° and 120° of longitude west of Greenwich, that is to say, in the neighborhood of seven hours' difference of time later than Greenwich time. Therefore I knew that if the moon entered the penumbra at Greenwich (although invisible) on the 30d. 5h. 44 min. A.M. that I ought to look for it to occur visibly to my eyes somewhere from one to two o'clock in the afternoon of the same day, or seven hours later. The _exact_ difference in the time between Greenwich and that to be observed on my island, changed into degrees and minutes, would, of course be the true longitude west of Greenwich. It was with the utmost anxiety that I awaited the coming of the 30th of September, for it all depended upon pleasant weather whether or not I should be able to make my observation. I placed my astrolabe so as to be able to move it quickly in any needed direction, as I intended to use the tube to look at the sun through so as not to blind my eyes. I also prepared my birch bark in the house, and commenced practising myself in counting seconds, for I should have to leave my instrument and go to the house, counting all the time to note the time marked by my clock. I found upon practice that I could not make this work very successfully, and that according to the state of my feelings or excitement I counted long and short minutes. This would not do; I must invent something better; and I finally bethought myself of counting the beatings of my pulse with the finger of one hand upon the wrist of the other, and applying the proportion to the interval between the observed time by my clock. The morning at last came that I so much desired, and nothing could be more beautiful than the balmy, spring-like day that surrounded me. The sky was cloudless and the sun shone down in splendor through a clear and pure atmosphere. The morning passed slowly away, and it seemed as if the moon and sun would never approach each other; but finally, in the afternoon, the heavens showed me that the eclipse would soon take place, and I made my arrangements to take four observations, as follows: Time when moon entered shadow; time when total phase began; time when total phase ended; time when moon left shadow. Nothing could have been better than the afternoon I experienced to make these observations, and in less than six hours the whole affair was over, with the following result, I having carefully regulated my clock as near as possible by an observation at noon:-- Day. Hour. Min. Moon enters shadow at island (civil account) 30 2 50 P.M. Moon enters shadow at Greenwich 30 6 53 A.M. ------------------------ Difference 7 57 Total phase begins at island 30 4 48 P.M. Total phase begins at Greenwich 30 8 49 A.M. ------------------------ Difference 7 59 Total phase ends at island 30 5 34 P.M. Total phase ends at Greenwich 30 9 39 A.M. ------------------------ Difference 7 55 Moon leaves shadow at island 30 6 41 P.M. Moon leaves shadow at Greenwich 30 10 45 A.M. ------------------------ Difference 7 56 Hours. Min. Sum of differences, four observations 31 47 Hours. Min. Sec. Mean of same 7 56 45 Which, reduced to time, gives the longitude of the island 119° 11' 15'' west of Greenwich. There, my problem was done and I was for the moment happy. Perhaps some will wonder why I cared to obtain the latitude and longitude of my island at all. Let me explain. My Bowditch's Epitome gave the latitude and longitude of all prominent capes, harbors, headlands, light-houses, etc., in the whole Pacific Ocean. In other words, knowing now the latitude and longitude of my own island, I had only to project a chart on Mercator's projection, pricking off the relative positions of the land on all sides of me, as well as the position of my island, to have a practical and useful chart. Of course I should not be able to draw the coast line or the circumference of any island, but my chart would show just what latitude and longitude Easter Island was in, for instance, and just how far and in exactly what direction my island lay from it. Also, how far I was from the American coast, and the exact distance and course from any of the principal ports such as Lima, Valparaiso, Pisco, etc. How far from New Zealand and the Society Islands, and in what direction from them. Having marked the exact latitude and longitude of each of these places, which were fully given in the Epitome, on my chart, I could call upon my memory often to fill in the coast lines, and even if I should in the case of the islands, make them even imaginary, there would be no harm done, for the little black star on each would show me where the latitude and longitude met exactly, and I should be furnished with a practical chart as far as sea navigation was concerned, but not one that would be of much account in entering any harbors. I cannot say that at this time I had any fixed plan of escaping from the island, but I very well knew that nothing in the world would aid me so much in the attempt as to know the position in latitude and longitude that the island occupied, and a chart of the surrounding seas, with its numerous islands and headlands on the main land. It can well be conceived that my first task after determining the position of my island was to turn to the Epitome to ascertain the nearest land to me there marked down, and after diligent search this is what I found:-- "Easter Island Peak," 27° 8' south latitude and 109° 17' west longitude. "Island," 28° 6' south latitude and 95° 12' west longitude. "Group of Islands," 31° 3' south latitude and 129° 24' west longitude. "Massafuera," 33° 45' south latitude and 80° 47' west longitude, which I speedily worked out, by the principles of Mercator's sailing, to be in course and distance from my island, as follows:-- Course. Distance. Easter Island Peak N. N. E. 1/2 E. 1,040 miles. Island N. E. 3/4 E. 1,440 " Group of Islands N. W. 3/4 N. 840 " Massafuera N. N. E. 1/4 E. 1,540 " Of these four places only two ever had a name, and I did not know whether Easter Island was inhabited or not, and about Massafuera I was totally ignorant. Easter Island, I knew, of course, was one of the so-called Society Islands, and was the nearest practical land to which I could escape. But how was I safely to pass over a thousand miles of water? This investigation only proved to me what I had so long feared, namely, that my island was out of the track of all trade, and that it would be a miracle should I be preserved by the arrival of any vessel. I knew now that I must really give up all hope in that direction, and set to work seriously to help myself. I therefore applied myself with great vigor to my chart which I outlined upon nice goatskin parchment, which I glued together till I had a surface nearly four feet square, upon which I could lay out all the Pacific Ocean on a nice, large scale, by Mercator's projection. I went on with my daily work, and made this matter one for evening amusement, and as I pricked off the latitude and longitude of some well-known place, that I in former years had visited, my heart swelled within me with grief and mortification, and I had often to stop and wipe the tears from my eyes before I could proceed. Release from my prison seemed farther from me than ever, as I advanced in my task, and although I had a sort of morbid pleasure in my work, and a fascination to linger over it, yet I saw plainly that I was indeed cast away; for what could I do alone in a boat, even supposing that I could build one strong enough to resist one thousand miles of water? Who was to steer when I was asleep? and then supposing I should be able to arrive at Easter Island, what guarantee had I that I should not be murdered at once by the natives? No, here I was fixed beyond fate upon my own island, where, with the exception of companionship, I had everything that human heart could wish for. But on the other hand, without companionship I lacked everything that is worth living for in this world. I felt that the problem of all problems hereafter to me would be how can I escape to some civilized country in safety? And from what I now knew, it seemed as if it would remain a problem till my bones were left whitening in the Hermitage. My discovery of the latitude and longitude of the island had brought me no comfort, and I felt much more uneasy now than I did before finishing my task. But as the summer weather came on, I regained to a degree my good spirits, keeping, however, the problem of escape continually working in my mind, for I knew that there must be some way to solve it, especially with the resources that I had gathered around about me. CHAPTER XVIII. A resumé of three years on the island. Daily routine of life. Inventions, discoveries, etc. Fortification of the Hermitage. Manufacture of cannon and guns. Perfection and improvement of the machine shop. Implicit faith of ultimately overcoming all obstacles and escaping from the island. Desire to accumulate some kind of portable wealth to carry with me, and decide to explore the island for its hidden wealth and the surrounding ocean for pearl oysters. I shall not become tedious by inflicting upon my readers the routine of each day, or even of each month or year that I have passed on this island, but shall pick out the most startling events of my life here, both as to the inventions that I have made and the accidents and adventures of which I have been the victim and hero. Of course my discovery of iron gave me wonderful power to advance and preserve myself. After my first set of tools were made, as I have enumerated in detail, all other work, even if slow, was comparatively easy. My next task, after making the common tools that I needed and various castings that were useful to me, was to erect a turning lathe,--one for wood, which was quite simple, and one for iron, which was a work of some magnitude,--and a whole year elapsed before I had it perfected to my taste. The castings were rough, but solid and useful, and the other parts were, with care and attention, at last made mathematically true, and this, with a drilling machine and some iron rollers to roll out my metal when coming from the furnace, completed my iron foundry, as I was now pleased to call it. Having all these things about me it was a small matter to cast several small cannon, of some four or six pound calibre, and bore them out on my turning-lathe and table. These I mounted on wooden trucks, and placed one on East Signal Point, one on Eastern Cape, one on South Cape, which I transported there by water in the canoe Fairy, one on Penguin Point, and one on West Signal Point. It was fun for me to make these things, and therefore, to protect myself still more, I made a number, of smaller calibre even, which I placed pointing out through embrasures in a wall with which I had encircled the Hermitage, and surrounded with a strong picket fence, made of cast-iron, which I found no difficulty in casting in sections of nearly ten feet in length. At all the stations at the extremities of the island I hid a little amount of ammunition, near the cannon erected, and also a flint and steel and a limestock or slow-match, so that at any time, if needful, I could load one of these cannon at once and discharge it. The touchholes I covered nicely with a piece of goatskin, so as to protect the guns from the weather, and fitted all the muzzles with a wooden plug, so that the interior would be kept clear and dry. [Illustration: PLACING THE CANNON.--PAGE 190.] In the wall that now surrounded my Hermitage I built a strong iron gate, that I could see through and yet too strong to be broken down by any savage hands. The iron fence or comb which ran round the summit of this wall, and of which I have spoken, crossed also above the gateway, and made my house impregnable to anything except artillery. My doorway facing this, in the Hermitage itself, had long been replaced by a nice hard-wood one, with iron hinges, with several loopholes left, through which I could poke a gun-barrel or discharge an arrow. I had six cannon mounted on my wall, two in front, two on each side, and one in rear, which was, however, naturally protected by a thick and almost impenetrable grove of trees and undergrowth. These guns were mounted in a peculiar manner upon carriages that allowed the muzzles to be depressed at least thirty degrees, and I kept in store, to load them with, quantities of iron ball castings, from the size of an English walnut to a common musket bullet, which at close quarters would do fearful execution. I approached these guns, from the interior, by means of step ladders, made of wood, leading up to each from the enclosure, and an oval hole, like an inverted letter U, was left in the iron fencing to allow the muzzle to protrude over the wall. This opening, however, was small, and not large enough to admit even the head of a man, much less his body. The erection of the whole wall, which was some nine feet high, cost me infinite labor and patience. The fencing on top of it was, as I have said, rapidly turned out from the casting mould, and gave me, comparatively speaking, little trouble. To further protect this my fortress from any assaults, I brought the water underground from Rapid River into the Hermitage, through a series of pipes made of pottery thoroughly baked, glazed, and made so as to fit one into the other, and controlled the flow by means of a stopcock fixed into a piece of cane. The signs of this underground connection with Rapid River I took care to thoroughly efface. And, furthermore, I made it a duty to always keep at least six months' salted provisions in store, ahead of all demands,--such as salted and smoked herring, salmon, and other fish, with corned and dried goat's flesh, and some few preserved vegetables such as I might have on hand. In rear of my house, between the end of the house and the wall, I dug a subterranean passage, leading under my wall, and coming again to the surface in the midst of a seemingly impenetrable thicket of undergrowth, some thirty yards away from the wall. This outlet was carefully closed by a trapdoor, and soil even strewed on top and grass allowed to grow over it. I did not know but what there might come a time when I should have to use this passage, as the last recourse, to save my life; and although now in security I built it carefully, to be prepared for what might happen in the future. After all these tasks for my defence were finished I commenced upon a set of guns and pistols, or rather rifles,--for I had not the slightest use for a shotgun, being able, in a hundred ways, by means of steel-traps and similar devices, to capture all the birds and animals I needed,--which I desired to protect myself against any human enemies, should such ever appear. To this end I easily bored myself out some four nice rifle barrels, and some half dozen of a smaller size for pistols; these I had to stock, and mount with the old-fashioned flint and steel, for I had no means of making any percussion-powder. I worked at these for a long time, but at last I had them all in good order, and used to amuse myself by practising with ball at the pigeons on the trees, and the ducks on the river. I did not make the best shooting in the world, for, not being able to procure lead, I was forced to make my bullets of steel, and to revolve them in a cylinder for a long time with sand, to make them globular and regular. The barrels of my guns and pistols also had to be smooth bored to use these projectiles; as a rifled barrel, if I could have made one, would have been ruined by cast-steel bullets; still at a hundred yards, with a nice greased patch, I was able to make good execution, and the pistols shot with strength at a distance of at least twenty yards. Both weapons suited me practically, and with my guns I had no difficulty in shooting several of the wild goats, and also seals, whenever I needed their meat or skins. My flock of tame goats all this while had grown and increased, and I added to my home comforts cheese and butter; but I made the wheel on the further side of the river do all the churning by a simple application of the machinery to a revolving clapper in an upright churn. The parchment windows in the Hermitage had long since been reinforced by iron shutters on the outside, that, if needed, could be bolted securely on the inside, and the roof had been refitted and made of timber and boards, and the whole covered with tiles, so as to be fireproof. Up through this roof I had also built a tower, of brick, not very large but quite high, some feet above the ridge-pole, which I mounted to by a flight of stairs from the attic; for the upper part of the house was floored off and completed when I erected the new roof, having no want now of either boards or timber. Up to this tower I trotted every morning before unbarring the door of the Hermitage or the gate of the enclosure. From this lookout I could see quite well in several directions, and notice if anything had been touched or changed from the evening before. I missed, I think, at this time, books more than anything, but then, again, from the very want of them, I was forced to study with my Epitome and Book of Useful Arts and Sciences, which possibly I might have thrown to one side for less useful but more entertaining ones if I had had them. Wanting them, I was becoming versed in many things which when I came upon the island I knew nothing about, and I was pleased to think that, although alone, I was improving, and the usefulness of a really good book was brought forcibly before me each day, for I could not open either of mine without finding food for reflection and study. I had always had my head full of vagaries of different kinds that I should like some time to try and experiment upon, and here seemed my opportunity; and it will be observed, in its proper place, further on, that I attempted many things. It was, I think, in my third year that I felt that my daily routine was fixed for life, as far as concerned comforts and food; for by that time I had wheat for my bread, and all kinds of vegetables and fruits that I have before enumerated, in profusion. My apple and pear trees would soon begin to bear, and in a year or two more I should have them to add to my comforts. I had already commenced to preserve blackberries, strawberries, etc., and found that my maple trees, in the spring, were just as prolific as those in my Vermont home, and that I had no difficulty in obtaining all the sugar I needed. Roasted wheat had, however, to stand me instead of Java coffee, but this made me quite a pleasant drink. All these comforts were enhanced by a climate so uniform in temperature that it was a pleasure to even exist, the winters bringing scarcely an inch of snow or ice with them, and the summers even and mild; warm, to be sure, but still far from being hot or oppressive. As I have said so often in this narrative before, what in the world could one want in excess of all this but companionship? Ah! it is little known how many bitter hours of solitude I passed in gathering all these comforts about me, and how, with a tenderness almost womanly, I made friends with every kid, duck, young bird, seal, and living animal that I gathered around me, and made pets of them all. My hardest duties were to destroy these animals for my own consumption, and I latterly destroyed what I could with the gun rather than touch one of those that were domesticated. Some of these I could not bear to lay my hand upon, especially my young kids and team of goats; but thank God there was no need of it. I could easily destroy one of their species, when I needed the flesh, with my rifle, for I veritably believe that I should have gone without animal food rather than touch one of these pets. Two of the kids, especially, followed me about all the time, and even into my canoe when I took short trips abroad. I had by this time, by means of snares, captured seven species of birds which resembled our blackbirds and bobolinks of the north, and I took great delight in feeding them in the cages I had made for them, and listening to their music in the morning and evening hours. Long search had taught me to feel sure that the island had no venomous insects or reptiles, and it was also wholly free from that nuisance the horse-fly, which is said to follow civilization, and that other pest, the mosquito, was wholly unknown. In their stead there were a few sand-fleas, a sort of wood-tick, which troubled the goats somewhat, and a small black wood-fly, that was not troublesome except in some seasons, in the woods, and on the coast. In December and January, green-headed flies were apt to take hold of me once in a while, but not so as to incommode me. The air was so pure that meat would keep a long while without putrefaction, even in the warm weather, and having nothing better to do to take up my mind, I had, during the past winter, collected quite an amount of thin ice from Rapid River, which, in a small subterranean ice-house, roofed over with planks, and covered with sawdust, I had stored for summer use, and on very warm days luxuriated in. This life of solitude had made me tender to even inanimate things, and it was wonderful to myself how the passion, self-importance, and arbitrary manner of one accustomed to command at sea was dying out in me. I began to almost have a reverence for flowers and all beautiful inanimate things, and many hours of my life were passed in my garden and on my farm, but especially the former, in examining and cultivating some beautiful wild flower or trailing vine that I had transported hence from the forest. I felt even that the bearing of my body was changed from what it used to be when in days gone by I trod the quarter-deck in all the pride and majesty of power. I cannot say that I was at this time contented, but I can say that I was much more patient, and the impetuosity of my temperament was greatly subdued, and many things, both animate and inanimate, were becoming, in spite of myself, very dear to my eyes. I even at times began to feel homesick when I was absent over a day, in my canoe, from the Hermitage, and came back to its comforts with an exclamation of gratification and a swelling of the heart with joy when it came in view, and showed itself intact during my temporary absence; and the welcome given me by my goats, tame pigeons, ducks, and birds was very touching, and, as I have said, endeared them to me greatly. Still for no moment did the problem of escape leave my mind. Although without relatives or children, I often dreamed of escaping from the island and returning with friends to enjoy it with me and end my days here in peace. I often thought how happy I could be here, far from the cares of the world and all its vain excitements, could I see around about me smiling faces of my fellow-men, who would look up to me as their benefactor and ruler, for I had yet left some of the seaman's instinct of desire to rule. Up to this time I had done little exploring of the island; my first trip around about it had been my last, and my excursions into the interior had been short, and without making any material discovery of moment. This was caused by the great tasks that I had given myself near home, and the consummation of which had taken all my time. I had worked very hard to accomplish all that was laid out before my eyes, and had had little time for wandering about or being idle. No sign of any vessel, or canoes of savages, had ever disturbed me. I had often, during the last year, visited the points of my island nearest to me, _i.e._ East and West Signal Points and the breakwater, but no welcome sail had ever met my eye. The sight of the ocean also from these points always gave me the blues, and sent me home troubled and discontented, for the intellect given me by the Creator on such occasions rebelled against my fate, and the ocean seemed my enemy, whom I must overcome, and whom I could overcome if I could only think of the means, for I would never acknowledge myself beaten, but only unable for the present to cope with my adversary; and I used to talk to it, and say: "Some day, thou mighty sea, with God's help, I will overcome and conquer thee, and compel thee to carry me wherever I desire to be borne. Power has been given man over the beasts of the field and over all nature, and I have only to use my mind, with which God has endowed me, to some day make thee, now my master, my slave. Roll on, therefore, for a day shall come, God willing, in which thy billows shall carry me, and the winds of heaven waft me to civilized lands, where the Creator of both thee and me is adored and worshipped. You shall not always separate me from the place whence I came. With my strong hold that I have obtained I will yet overcome thee, and make thee my steed of deliverance, instead of, as now, the boundary line of my imprisonment." My daily life at about this time was something like this. I arose in the morning, and, if the season would admit of it, took a plunge in Stillwater Cove, first, however, visiting my tower to see if everything was all right in all directions. I usually, with a sailor's habits, arose early, and with the sun. After my bath I proceeded to feed my numerous flock of goats, kids, pigeons, etc., and then to the cares of my dairy, milking my goats and conveying the result of my labors to my ice-house, near by, to be kept there, and at proper season to be made into butter and cheese. Then to my breakfast, which I could change in many various ways, as my appetite dictated, always commencing the same, in these days, by thanking God for his preservation of me, and expressing gratitude for the food before me, and hopefulness of ultimate delivery from my island prison. After breakfast I went about any work that might be on hand, such as fishing, gunning, or arranging my household things, working in my iron ore, conveying coal or iron from the mines, or running my sawmill, or else digging in my garden or attending to my farm near the landing-place, and the thousand and one daily things that had to be done with one pair of hands, to keep my establishment in order. When I thought it noon by the sun (for I soon gave over the attempt to keep my clumsy clock agoing after I had obtained my latitude and longitude) I repaired to the Hermitage, and if the weather was warm and pleasant made my meal in the outer air, under the shade of a fine large tree of the maple species, surrounded by my domestic birds; if in winter, by my fireside, inside the house. After dinner I again commenced my daily toil, first taking a good long smoke of my favorite pipe, which, all things considered, was my greatest solace, and after this taking up the work that I had laid down at the dinner hour. I kept myself employed till sunset, or nearly so,--for I did not now overwork myself as I used to in the beginning, in my impetuosity, but took everything mildly, quietly, and comfortably,--when I again called my flock together and attended to my milking. I knew that cheeses would keep a long while, and, looking always forward to an escape, I was gradually laying up a stock of this nutritious article for use in the future should I ever need it, knowing well how palatable and refreshing it always is at sea. After the milking was finished, which was not till I had gathered the flock from their feeding pastures, I entered my house for the night, taking with me one or two of my favorite kids, and barring the iron gate in the enclosure wall carefully behind me, and doing the same with the door of the Hermitage. Once within, I lighted my lamps and gave myself plenty of light, and took my supper, followed by the inevitable pipe, and often a glass of my claret wine, as I called it, made from the pure juice of the grape. Then I got out a sheet of parchment and commenced a history of the day's proceedings, which I wrote down in detail, and from which this narrative is condensed. This was a very important task, for upon the daily performance of it rested the accuracy of my calendar. This often carried me well into the evening, and if it did not, and I was not very tired, I got out my Bowditch's Epitome and solved a problem or two, and then turned to my Book of Useful Arts and Sciences and stored my mind with some new fact, or tried to decipher some of the things that were daily becoming more clear to me, and which I had commenced by understanding scarcely a word about. When I found myself nodding over this work I quietly betook myself to bed, preferring, as a rule, my upright bedstead to the swinging hammock. I never put out the lights and only removed my outer clothing when I slept, but then the latter was a very natural act to a person who had for years turned in "all a standing," as sailors say, and ready for a call at any time of the night or day. My arms and ammunition were placed within easy access of my hands, and, commending my soul to God, I used to sleep. In winter I kept of course more within doors, and busied myself upon my clothing and such things as needed sewing and lashing together, fixing little nicknacks of shell and wood around about the room, to hold flowers and ferns, or any little thing that had attracted my eye, or would please me in my solitude. On rainy days I almost always went to work in my smelting house at the forge, and if there was nothing else to do I would busy myself in the making of nails for future use, I having to beat out each one on the anvil; but when finished each of my nails was a wrought one, and worth a dozen cast by machinery. I always found plenty to do here, but I worked leisurely, always looking toward the future. I got together a large quantity of rolled iron, of about a quarter of an inch in thickness, and in sheets nearly two feet wide and some eight or nine in length. This workshop I kept improving till I had, besides my forge and all its tools, turning-lathes both for wood and iron, many other useful things, which I had constructed at odd times, such as a small but very strong derrick, which I fitted with iron blocks and chains and with a winch and band, so that I was able to handle large masses of iron with ease. My rollers, also, for rolling out the iron when at a white heat, were in this room, and I had long since improved and strengthened my water-wheel, so that I had all the power at any time that I needed or desired, to move any or all of my machinery. Besides gathering together these sheets of iron I put them under my drilling machine and punched the edges with holes of an uniform size, so that they could at some time be riveted together, for I had an idea in my head what I should use them for. The making of a large number of rivets to fit these holes also took plenty of my time, as did the making of different sizes of spikes, and once in a while some new tool that I felt the need of. My files, also, once in a while had to be re-marked and again hardened, and thus I found myself always with plenty to do whenever I entered the smelting-house; and it was there that I enjoyed myself the most, for I was a born mechanic, and I liked the work, and nothing pleased me so much as to see something turning out under my hand from a crude mass of iron into some useful tool, or article of which I had need. Therefore when the stormy and rainy days came it was with absolute pleasure that I walked into my smelting-house and set to work. It was here that I saw my deliverance must be worked out, and never a day passed but what my machinery was improved or increased in some way, and made more perfect and reliable. A great deal of it, to be sure, was crude, but it was also practical; and when a piece of machinery would not perform well I went to work, and kept at it until it would, and in the end had not the slightest trouble in rolling, casting, drilling, planing, and turning iron or cast-steel, in all reasonable shapes. To be sure my machinery was not painted, or even well finished, except in the working parts, but to those sections I gave a mechanic's care. I not only worked here, however, on stormy days alone, but also nearly every spare moment that I had from other duties that were also pressing. As my riches began to accumulate I began to think seriously of exploring the island for its hidden wealth, and see if I could not during these years that I was waiting for escape--which I had made up my mind was sure to come--lay up enough wealth, in some shape, to take with me when I should depart, that would make me rich for the remainder of my days. Knowing that such wealth, to be conveyed away by me, must necessarily be in a small compass, I was working out a problem at this very time to explore the bottom of the ocean around my island, and see if I could not hit upon some pearl-oyster beds, whence I could draw riches to carry away with me when I should leave this island, and the theory that I had gotten into my head, and which I was trying to put into actual practice, was the following:-- CHAPTER XIX. Construct a submarine boat, to be propelled by goat power and to make its own air, to examine the bottom of the ocean near the island for pearl-oysters. Yes, as I have hinted in the preceding chapter, I had fully made up my mind to explore the _bottom_ of the ocean that surrounded my island, and I did not intend to commence in the stupid way in which the former Crusoe went to work, and build me a boat and then be unable to launch it. Far from it. My very first care was to erect ways running down into Stillwater Cove, made out of large square timbers, placed at a considerable decline, so that I felt confident that what I should erect upon them could be launched by me into the water without difficulty or trouble. These ways I bolted strongly together, and made firm and enduring, and upon them erected a kind of raft, which I kept in place by means of upright iron bolts through the timbers of the ways, which prevented it, for the time being, from slipping into the water if it should be so inclined, but which, when the bolts were removed, and the three timbers upon which it rested well greased, I felt sure would, at the proper moment desired, slip into Stillwater Cove. Upon this raft I commenced to construct my submarine boat. These launching-ways were erected near the smelting house, and not far below the falls, just where the water became deep enough for my purpose, and yet as near as possible of access to my forge and shop. The raft that I built and erected upon the ways was only as a cradle to support my submarine boat so that I could float the whole affair to the mouth of Stillwater Cove before allowing the latter to be submerged; for where I now was there was not water enough for my experiment, and I well knew that if my boat, which was to be of iron, was once launched, and should, by its displacement or specific gravity, go to the bottom, that I should be unable to raise it again, and that in the water directly in front of the ways it would touch the bottom even before it would be submerged. On the other hand, if I should erect my ways running into deep water at some place near the mouth of Stillwater Cove, and opposite Point Deliverance, I should have no means at hand to complete it, all my forges, iron-work, tools, and shop being too far distant for such an undertaking. I saw, therefore, that I must construct it near to my foundry, and hence I chose this method of a cradle, or raft, to carry out my plan. This raft, or cradle as I shall call it in future, was of itself quite an undertaking, for I had to make it of mortised pieces of wood, so that at the proper time I could take it to pieces, and allow its load, the submarine boat, to drop into the ocean, at some place yet to be determined, to which I should tow it, where the water would be smooth, and protected from the billows of the ocean, and not too deep for my experiment. I had also another care in forming this cradle, and that was, that it should be buoyant enough to sustain the submarine boat, and not, when launched, go to the bottom of Stillwater Cove with its precious freight, on account of the weight of the latter. This cradle, therefore, took both time and care to make, and long hours were passed by me in figuring out the weight of the iron boat I was about to build, and how large and extensive my cradle ought to be to sustain it. By studying my book, and by experimenting in different ways with small vessels of pottery and bladders blown up with air, that I submerged, I got at what I thought would be about the weight of my submarine boat and its relation to the cradle, and I saw plainly that the latter would have to be improved in some way to sustain the necessary weight. So this is how I went to work to overcome this obstacle. On the two long sides of the cradle running parallel to the timber ways, beyond which they extended several feet (although the ways themselves were some six feet wide from the outside of one timber to the outside of the other, by my island rule), I lashed firmly with iron bands and bolts two water-tight iron tanks, which I constructed of my rolled iron, riveted together, fully six feet long, three feet wide, and three feet deep. The dimensions of the cradle itself were about these: Ten feet wide and eighteen feet in length, resting firmly upon the three declined timbers or ways, which were six feet wide from side to side and some forty feet in length from where they commenced on the shore to their terminus under the water in Stillwater Cove, at a depth of about eight or nine feet at high water. They were kept in place by their own weight, being of as large a size as I could handle with my team of goats, and of hard-wood, the inclination they received from the shore ends forcing the outer ends to the bottom of the water. Of course these ways were not made of one piece of timber but of several, which were as large as I dared cut them with any hope of being able to handle them, and were fished together to make the required length, being first sawed out at the mill, planed upon the upper side by hand, and then let down again over the inclined planes of the mill into Rapid River, and thence thrust over the falls into the shallow water and conveyed to their place, where I pulled them on shore by means of rollers and my team of goats, till I had each in place and mounted upon short uprights of other timber, that I had placed at equal distances from each other, and higher one than the other as they were erected landward from the water. The underpinning of my cradle was exactly like the wooden underpinning of a house, and consisted of a parallelogram, eighteen feet by ten feet, with timbers of about eight inches square. Across these timbers were placed smaller ones in sockets, exactly as slats are placed across a bed, and this was to form the foundations upon which I was to erect my boat. When I desired to submerge it I had only to saw away each of these slats, on either side, and it would drop into the ocean, leaving the outer framework--or bedstead, if you please--floating; for my boat was to be built, of course, less than eighteen feet long and ten wide, so as to rest wholly upon these slats and not upon the framework of the cradle that supported the slats. This took me a long time to finish; but what was time to me whilst revolving the problem of my escape, which was not yet solved. Till I knew _how_ I was to escape I should never again be in a hurry. To build my boat I commenced by making two watertight tanks, each sixteen feet long and two feet square, and two smaller ones, each six feet long and of the same dimensions otherwise as the long ones; these, placed upon the slats of my cradle, gave me a parallelogram composed of four water-tight tanks, all made out of my rolled iron and riveted together firmly. I had to erect a derrick to hoist them into place, but once in the cradle I had only to bind the two ends of each extremity of the long tanks to the short ones placed at right angles to them and I had the foundations of my boat laid. I bound the small tanks in place, as also the large ones, by bands of iron, several in number, which I brought together on one side by means of what is called a turn buckle, such as is often seen on iron bridges, both ends of the bands being formed with a screw-thread, and fitting into this turn-buckle nut on both sides, which could be then tightened by means of a lever, so as to bring an immense binding force upon each band. Upon the outer edge of this parallelogram of tanks I had left a sort of comb of iron, some three inches in height, already pierced, or rather punched, ready to receive the roof of the boat, also air-tight, to be bolted to it, so that when all was done my platform of tanks would be nearly two feet wide within the boat, and allow me plenty of margin to rest any kind of a movable platform upon, or deck over the space that was left open, some fourteen feet long by six feet wide. The nearest description that I can give of this roof is, that it rose in all directions at an angle of about forty-five degrees till it was bolted to a large flat surface made up of several sheets of rolled iron, which formed the top, which was ten feet long and four feet wide. This flat roof was fitted with a manhole, somewhat large in proportion to the rest of the boat, at least two feet square, and fitted over a raised rib of iron, which was packed with greased milkweed floss, and closed on the inside by set-screws, that were worked with a short iron lever, so as to make the opening perfectly air-tight. I commenced this chapter by saying that I did not intend to make such a fool of myself as the old Robinson Crusoe did, and that I was not going to make any errors either of judgment or figures; and yet I had not my boat completed as far as I have described before I discovered that I had been a silly ass, fully as silly as it was possible for a mechanic to be, and one day it flashed upon me that my whole cradle, with its air-tight chests, was an egregious folly; that I had not the least need in the world for it, and that I had wasted time, labor, and patience in perfecting it. Carried away, as I was, with the means I intended to employ to sink and raise my boat I had totally overlooked the fact that as now being built, and as it would be launched, that it would float itself, the size of the four air-tight tanks being sufficient to float five times the upper structure built on top of them. As I am writing a veritable history, and no fable, it behooves me to tell the truth, and it was with feelings of both mortification and mirth that I surveyed my partially finished work. It was the mental contemplation of a series of air-cocks, weights, pumps, etc., to be hereinafter described, that had led me astray as to the buoyancy of the boat as it now stood, and it was what I was going to use the tanks for, rather than what they now were, that had led me to this error. But then there was no great harm done. I had not to change the plan of the boat in the minutest particular, and the cradle might after all be advantageous in launching it, and preserve it from any casualty. Therefore, with the exception of my loss of time, I was nothing the worse; still I was rather crestfallen to think what a mistake I had made. But after mourning for a short time I set to work with renewed ardor to complete my task. After having strapped the four tanks together and covered them with the iron roof, as described, I went on to complete the remainder of the boat, in this manner. In the interior, which I could easily reach by getting up from underneath the ways through two of the slats of the cradle, I arranged the following: The space in which I had to work was about fourteen feet in length, six feet wide, and eight feet high from the bottom of the tanks to the flat roof, which contained the manhole, which, for the present I left open, to give me both light and air. In the first place I connected all these four tanks together by means of a half-circular arm of piping some three inches in diameter, which I placed in each of the four corners of the parallelogram formed by the interior of the boat, leading from one tank to the other, where the latter met at an angle, so that the air that each contained was put in direct communication with the others. These connecting pipes were fitted in with a flange and riveted, and were placed a few inches from the bottom of the tanks, thus making really one tank of the whole. As the roof was fastened to the outside of these tanks, I had a seat or margin running round all the sides of the interior two feet wide, from the outer or further side of which arose the roofing. I could, therefore, easily lay any kind of a movable deck over this open space of fourteen feet by six feet, resting the ends of all my planks upon the top of the tanks in any direction. Having connected all the tanks so as virtually to form one, so far as concerned being one air-chamber, I then went to work and pierced the perpendicular side of one of the tanks quite near the bottom and inserted a similar pipe to the horizontal ones that connected the tanks at the angles. This pipe, however, was in the form of a right angle, or rather its two ends were at a right angle, the bend being of a circular form. It pierced the tank near the bottom, as I have said, extended in a horizontal line some eight inches, and then gradually turned in a circular manner till the other end, about one foot in length, pointed downward, in an exact right-angle from the end entering the tank. This was put on with a flange, and made water-tight, and in the top of it, about three inches from the tank, was fixed a stopcock, with a long rod, which arose inside the boat, parallel with the side of the tank, till it ended in a handle, situated some ten inches higher than the top of the tanks. Near this, also, I erected another piece of pipe, which entered the top of the tank and pierced the roof of the boat, which was also fitted with a stopcock. Still another pipe pierced the roof, which was fitted with a stopcock outside as well as inside, and depended down into the boat some four feet from the roof. These four pipes, with their stopcocks, were so arranged as to be all near to each other, so that I could control them all without moving in my position, and were made at about the middle of what I called the starboard side of my boat, though it would be hard to say which side starboard was, as both ends of the boat were exactly alike up to the present time. But as I was eventually to have a propeller and rudder, which would define the stern, I had already concluded that the part of the boat nearest the water should be the bows, and hence I knew which to call the starboard side and which the port side. Added to the pipes and stopcocks already enumerated was one which was simply about a foot in height, which pierced the tank on the top, some few inches from the inner edge, and near the others. It was also fitted with a stopcock, and, that my readers may fully understand the uses to which I put all these appliances at a later day, it will be well, perhaps, to name them, so that when used it will be possible to understand to which of the numerous ones I refer; and to prevent confusion, and to make myself understood, I will say that the pipes at the angles of the tanks I took no note of, they not being fitted with any cocks, and only made to connect all the tanks together, so that any action I might make with any of the stopcocks would be communicated to the whole system of tanks, of which the foundations and main part of the boat was formed. The pipes with stopcocks I named as follows: The one leading down into what would be the water when the boat was launched, and below the bottom of the tank some inches, fitted with a long rod and handle, I called the water-pipe and stopcock; the one that connected the tank with the roof, the tank air-pipe and stopcock; the one that pierced the roof and depended into the interior, the atmospheric pipe and outer and inner stopcocks; the one that stood erect, ten inches in height, the pump-pipe and stopcock. So that I had four pipes and five stopcocks to my boat, all of which had their uses, as shall be related. Besides all these four pipes I also made near to them an opening into the tanks, which was fitted with a screw thread, upon which I could, when occasion demanded, erect a quite large and powerful pump, that I had made for the express purpose. One more thing remained to be done, and that was to make all around the boat inside a sort of movable step, that would ship and unship. I was well aware that, unless the centre of gravity was kept well down, my boat would capsize and spill out all the air when in use, and to prevent this I made these movable steps, which it is difficult to describe. They were made of an upright piece of wood that was over four feet in length, and on the top of which another piece of wood was nailed horizontally, some twelve inches in width, like one arm of the letter T, whilst at the other end of the upright of four feet in length was nailed another horizontal piece, some twelve inches in width, on exactly the opposite side, like the letter L; so that when the whole was done the upper horizontal board rested one foot on the top of the tanks, whilst at the other end of the upright, two feet below the bottom of the tanks, was the other horizontal board, facing in towards the centre of the boat in all directions, and forming a kind of step or shelf, upon which weights could be placed so as to prevent all chance of the capsizing of the boat, the vomiting out of its air, and perhaps the destruction of its constructor and inventor. I had this so arranged that I could speedily ship and unship it in sections, for it was of course greatly in the way, and of no use except when the boat was launched. I then completed my deck, which I made of light planks, marked and arranged so that I could readily board over all the space in the interior or leave part of it open. Upon further thoughts, some of this deck I made permanent, leaving only a space of about six feet by four open in the forward end, which I could cover or uncover. I then entered upon another part of the programme, namely, the motive power by which I was to move this submarine monster, but that I had long ago solved in my own mind. For some months I had been practising two fine young goats upon a treadmill fitted to their size and strength, all the time having in view the end of using them to create the motive power of my boat; and for this purpose I had left the manhole two feet square so as to be able to take them down with me into it. I now went to work and transported the treadmill to the boat, and, having fixed it in place, I each day conveyed the goats on board and set them to work, so that they might get used to it. They were already used to the motion of the mill, and I noticed that with the precision of step of their race they worked the rounds of the mill much better than horses usually do, and they soon became accustomed to the boat and worked rapidly and well, obeying the least word of command. In fact they were to me almost companions, and it would be amazing to relate, if I had time, all I have taught these really sagacious and gentle creatures since I have been on the island; not these very ones of which I am now speaking in particular, but several of their race. Perhaps before I am through with my narrative I may give an idea of the many interesting things which I taught them. For a long time I allowed the mill to be turned daily, without making up my mind just how I would connect it with the wheel or screw that I foresaw that I should have to make to propel the boat. I at last fixed upon a propeller, to work in the open space of water in the interior of the boat, and which I readily set up with good strong gearing, that I could as readily take down by hand when needful. By means of bevelled gearing I obtained several revolutions of my propeller to one of the balance-wheel of the treadmill, and I saw, as a mechanic, that my boat would move forward, perhaps not very fast, but still at the rate of three or four knots an hour, which would answer all purposes. I had one more necessary thing to make, and that was a rudder, which I connected to the outside of the rear tank of the boat, bringing the tiller or steering rods into the interior of the boat under the bottom of the tank. I took care to fasten the heel of the rudder, which was quite wide, above the line of the bottom of the tank, so that if the boat grounded it would not be injured or destroyed. And now I came to the most important part of my boat, and, in fact, upon the success of which, and practical application, rested the actual consummation of all my efforts. It was to obtain a supply of air whilst under the surface of the water without connection with the atmosphere, from which I was of course debarred. This problem solved, I had, I felt, the whole matter under control,--and let it not be believed that I had proceeded thus far in my self-imposed task without seeing a way out of this difficulty. The following every-day facts were easily ascertained from my Book of Useful Arts and Sciences, and upon the following conclusions I had based my invention. It is well known that oxygen is the portion of atmospheric air which supports life, and that it composes nearly twenty-two per cent of the same, whilst nitrogen, the remaining portion, is incapable of sustaining life. It is also well known that water also contains oxygen, in the proportion of two parts to one of hydrogen, of which two gases water is composed; or, in other words whilst atmospheric air holds only twenty-two per cent of the life-giving principle, water contains about sixty-six per cent, or, by weight, eight-ninths of oxygen to one-ninth of hydrogen. I also ascertained that the specific gravity of nitrogen is 0.94, whilst that of hydrogen is only 0.0692. Now if I could release the oxygen in the water I could make new air and at the same time precipitate the nitrogen and carbonic acid in the boat, that might be in the atmosphere, that had accumulated by my repeated breathings. Now the only problem to solve was evidently how to release this oxygen with which the water was so freely impregnated, charged, or made up of, and by the breathing of which fishes sustained life. And this is how I set about to do it. I made a very light paddle-wheel, full six feet in diameter, with many, but light arms, and only six inches across the face of each paddle; this was arranged so as to ship inside the boat, upon sockets arranged so that the lower paddles would just touch the water, and was adjustable by set screws, so that the journals could be lowered or elevated as the pressure of the water in the boat might show itself, higher or lower, according to the depth the boat might be at. By this arrangement I could have the paddles, which were more like a set of large-teethed combs than paddles, dip just such distance into the water as I desired. This wheel was connected by series of light wheels to the drum of the treadmill, so that I could obtain many revolutions of the water-wheel to one of the latter. My idea was this. By violent motion of the extreme ends of my comb-paddles through the water I intended to throw up into the interior of the boat a mass of minute spray, that in that form would itself release the oxygen that it contained, or at least a large part of it, and grant to my exhausted air the vitality it needed by new oxygen, or the life-sustaining principle, and at the same time precipitate the carbonic acid that the used-up atmosphere might contain. By this simple contrivance I intended to renew my air, and thus remain just as long below the surface as I might desire. The test that I should have that my air was becoming impure would be the dimness with which the candles would burn, with which I was to furnish the boat; and if after the use of the spray-wheel they again flashed up brilliantly, I should know that my theory was correct. I had only one more thing to make to complete the whole affair, and that was a compass, which, having finished, I took within the boat to see and note its variations from the true north on account of the attraction of the iron, and to regulate it so that I might be aware always of my true course, for upon the exactitude of this instrument rested the responsibility of my ever again reaching land should I dare to go out into the ocean, supposing that the boat should work according to my desires and theory. For light I had nothing but the light contained in the water and my candles. I could only pass from spot to spot by compass alone, and in case of utmost disaster plunge into the water within my own boat and try to reach the surface by coming up outside. It was not my intention to propel the boat near the bottom but only when near the surface. When near the bottom a turn or two of the propeller would send me in any needed direction. A few blocks of iron to place upon my hanging shelves, and four anchors with strong rawhide hawsers, completed the appurtenances of the boat, and it was finished. By examination of my diary I found that I had been just nine months and eleven days in completing it from the day I had started to work upon the ways. CHAPTER XX. Launch the submarine boat. Experiment with it in Stillwater Cove. Having completely finished and arranged my boat, my next task was to launch it and arrange for a series of experiments to ascertain its practical value. So one fine morning I went forth, with a beating heart, from the Hermitage, and waited patiently till nearly high water, and having greased my launching ways, and confined the cradle with a long and strong rope of rawhide, so that its momentum, when launched, should not carry it across Stillwater Cove without being checked before it reached the other side, I, with anxiety and almost fear, withdrew the iron bolts in front of it on the ways, and, going to the upper end, applied a crowbar to the still stationary mass, and after a few motions of the bar it began to move, and with one grand rush, not very fast, and yet majestic and striking, the cradle, with its precious freight, dashed into the water, and, being brought up by the long rope of rawhide fast to it, in a moment or two rested quietly upon its bosom. I took the canoe "Fairy" and paddled all about it and saw that it sat well balanced, and secure, and that it floated beautifully. I then made fast to it with a short piece of rawhide rope, and commenced towing it to the mouth of Stillwater Cove, where the water was deep but smooth, to still further carry on my experiments. It was a good hard day's work to tow the heavy cradle to the place that I had fixed upon, which was at the mouth of Stillwater Cove, just within the breakwater, and about one mile beyond the landing-place and two or three miles from the Hermitage. This place was admirably fitted for my purposes, the shore being of a smooth sand and the water gradually deepening towards the centre of the cove. Nothing but clear, pure sea-sand on the bottom, and no rock to injure the boat or interfere with any experiment I might choose to make. Having arrived, I was glad to anchor the whole concern safely, and to make my way home in the canoe. The next day, fitted out with all I thought I should need, including my two goats for the treadmill and provisions for a day or two, I made my way back again in the canoe to the floating cradle. I found everything all right, as I had left it, and proceeded to prove the practical efficiency of my invention. In the first place I took the goats on shore and tethered them, so that they could feed, but not escape. I then went to work and anchored the cradle in about twelve feet of water, it then being nearly low tide, or slack water. After having secured both it and the boat also, I went to work sawing off the slats of the cradle upon which the latter rested, and in less than two hours the last one was off, and I had the satisfaction of seeing my boat floating in the water, drawing only a few inches, certainly not over six, with the manhole open, sustained wholly by the confined air in the tanks, which held up the superstructure bravely. After the slats were cut away I drove out the pins from the mortised framework of the cradle and left my iron boat floating calmly on the bosom of the smooth waters of Stillwater Cove. Floating the timbers to one side that had formed the cradle, I allowed them to drift up stream with the now incoming tide, the boat being securely anchored by two anchors, one in advance and one at the stern, which were made fast to two ringbolts on the roof, placed at each extremity. And now for my final test. I had made up my mind, if the thing was not a success, that I did not intend to be personally implicated in any disaster. Two things only could happen; one, that the boat might capsize, and if so I was prepared to go on board with little clothing, so that if it vomited me up I could easily reach the surface and then swim ashore, which was distant only a few rods; the other, that I should be unable to improve my air, once vitiated or used up. In the latter event I had only to dive out from under the boat and again make my way to the shore, losing, however, the lives of my poor goats. I commenced my work by going on board of the boat by means of a short ladder, which reached from the manhole to the deck beneath. In the first place I shipped or hung the wooden shelves on each of the tanks, and loaded them with several iron weights, and also large smooth stones and the two anchors that belonged to the boat. This made it very firm, and sunk the tanks at least two inches more. I then went on shore and brought off my goats in the canoe and passed them on board through the manhole, which I had made large for this very purpose. I then went to work in the interior and fixed my compass, steering-gear, treadmill, and propeller, taking great care to see that my spray-wheel was all in order, and at hand ready to be hung. I also conveyed on board some candles, flint and steel, matches, and provisions, and as the last thing took in the stern anchor, so that the boat lay with the tide, tailing up stream. The other hawser I conveyed also--by means of the canoe and with a boathook--under the forward tank, so that I held the end within the interior, and could cast it off at anytime. It was by the sun about eleven o'clock when I gave one glance around me, and, standing on the last round of the ladder, I drew the manhole cover over my head and commenced screwing it down on the inside, which having done I lighted several candles, although I had a fair light reflected from the water and the bottom of the cove, formed of white sea-sand, directly beneath me, and distant, I should judge by the state of the tide, some twenty to twenty-five feet. My goats had become so accustomed to the boat that they showed little surprise at the rather dim light, and stood ready to perform their part whenever I should put them to their customary task. My heart beat rapidly, not with fear, but with excitement and expectation. Here I was, already shut out from the outer air, and in a little world of my own. I hesitated to complete my experiment, and before going further I turned to my provisions and took a good long drink of claret wine to strengthen my courage and steady my nerves. If I was in a scrape I could get out of it, but my poor goats! they, I was afraid, would have to pay for any error in judgment on my part. Having regained perfect composure, I made up my mind to make the first test of the practical value of my boat, and that was to see if I could descend to the bottom of the ocean, that lay beneath me. By moving around I felt convinced that my calculations about the centre of gravity had been correct, and I felt that the boat would not capsize. It was remarkably stiff and steady, and would, I felt confident, remain so when submerged. This bugbear was already off my mind, and gave me confidence to proceed. So, moving to the place on the starboard side where all my pipes and stopcocks were congregated, I commenced by opening the stopcock of the water-pipe, which, as I had foreseen, brought no perceptible change. Some little water rushed into the tanks, but only what was sufficient to compress the air to the extent of the weight of the superstructure of the boat. This experiment did not sink it one particle; its buoyancy remained exactly the same, for the same air remained in the tanks, although compressed, and was not able to escape on account of the position of the outlet of the pipe that had opened communication between it and the water, pointing, as it did, directly to the centre of the earth. After waiting a little, and seeing that this all worked well, I placed my hand upon the stopcock of a more important pipe, namely the tank air-pipe, which led from the tanks to the outer surface of the superstructure. Now, or never! Upon turning this cock I should descend or my theory would be incorrect. The moment my hand opened this valve the air would be expelled by the pressure of the boat upon the water, conveyed to the air in the tanks by the water-pipe, which was already open; and, as it was expelled, so the buoyancy of the boat would be decreased, and I should descend. The fatal moment had come, and with a firm hand I opened the tank air-pipe, and plainly heard the escaping air, the incoming water, and felt the boat descending, and saw the sandy bottom apparently approaching me. I cut off the discharge of the tank air-pipe, and with a slight rebound the boat arose again a few inches towards the surface, simply regaining its true position in equilibrio, that it had for a moment passed, by the momentum of its descent. By little turns of this stopcock I discovered, as I expected, that I could move the boat in a descending direction even an inch at a time. The movement was a perfect fascination, but each delivery of air was bringing me nearer the bottom, and as yet I had tried no means of rising again to the surface. When I had gotten to within about six feet of the former I thought it time to see if I could again rise towards the surface. I was well aware that, having used up this air, it was so much loss to me, but I was in hopes to be able to replace it; and even if I could not replace it to make the boat rise to near the surface without it. I could do this in one way, by casting overboard the anchors and weights lying upon the wooden shelves; but this, if done to any great extent, might cause the capsizing of the whole affair. No; I had a better way than this, and at it I went. In the first place I closed the water-pipe, and then, having opened the screw-valve in the connected tanks, I screwed upon it the pump and commenced discharging the water from them--that had run in to take the place of the discharged air--into the water of the ocean, which formed, in one sense, the interior flooring of my boat. To make this pump work I of course opened, and left open, the pump-pipe, so that the air from the interior rushed in and filled the tank as fast as the pump discharged the water, and at each stroke of the pump, after the first few, the boat, as I had hoped, began to rise; the water, having been just so much ballast to carry it down, being discharged by the pump, was just so much thrown overboard in weight to allow it to rise. By persistent pumping I made my boat rise quite near the surface, but not to the buoyant position it at first maintained, for I had in my descent used up considerable of the air in the tanks, which I had as yet not replaced, or rather what I had used from them had been replaced from the air of the interior when I pumped out the water, which I could only do by allowing the connection between the tanks and the interior to be open, so as to make the pump work. In short I had lost just so much buoyancy as was equal to the escaped air; but still I had been able to make the boat descend and ascend. These experiments took me over two hours, and I commenced to feel the need of new air, and to notice that my candles began to burn a little dimly. I was thus warned that my air was being used up and charged with carbonic gas, and that it was time for me to renew it. So I unscrewed the pump and closed the valve, opened the water-pipe, and placed my hand upon the tank air-pipe and prepared to descend. One effect I should have noticed of my loss of air, and that was that the water in the interior of the boat rose considerably, and a large portion of the tanks was now submerged. A few turns of the stopcock of the tank air-pipe carried me near to the bottom, where I desired to be, to try my last and most important experiment. Arriving to within a few feet of the bottom I rigged my spray-wheel, and connected it with the drum of the treadmill and set the goats at work. And it was time, for my breathing had become oppressive, and the animals themselves seemed dull and frightened. I had waited almost too long. My candles also commenced to burn more dimly, and I prepared to take my plunge into the water and come up outside of the boat should my experiment now fail. But wonder of wonders! my spray-wheel made but a few revolutions, dashing large quantities of minute spray into the interior by its rapid motion, before my lungs were relieved, the candles renewed their brilliancy, and the goats recovered from the lassitude under which they had a moment before seemed to be laboring. The problem was solved. I had made my own air. I could remain below the surface as long as I desired. Everything about me was rather damp and moist from the dashing of spray about the interior, and several of the candles, that I had not protected, were put out; but two, in the extremity of the boat, were preserved, and now that my problem was solved I did not again light the former, the two remaining ones being all-sufficient. And in fact I did not need them; my own lungs, I found, were sufficient as a guide to tell me in future when to renew the air. Still it was fascinating to see these two candles burning brilliantly that had but a moment before been so dim. The reflected light from the pure sandy bottom just below me was amply sufficient for all purposes. I imagined, by the slight shadow that the boat cast on the bottom beneath, from the brilliant sun that I knew was shining overhead, and from counting up in my mind all I had done since leaving the surface, that the air had lasted me, as nearly as I could judge, two hours; and that seemed to be the extreme limit to which I could go and not renew it. I also knew by the quantity of tallow consumed in the candles that it must be nearly that amount of time. I also noticed that the spray-wheel had not only purified my air, but that whilst it was in operation the boat had slightly ascended, proving that I had gained a lighter gas for the nitrogen and carbonic acid precipitated. One more thing remained to be tested, and I should feel that my labors were complete. In the first place I made the boat ascend as far as possible, by means of the pump and stopcocks, as before described, and then I went to work and rigged my propeller and set the goats at work. I got the boat as near the surface as possible before communicating motion to it, so as not to run against any obstacle if possible. But then the body of water in which I was submerged was so pure, and free from anything of that nature, that there was little danger after all. With a feeling of confidence that I had not had in all the other experiments, I cast off the hawser affixed to the anchor that held the boat, and started the goats. Mechanics did not trouble me, and it was with no surprise, but only gratification, that I saw by the bottom that the boat was moving forward, and that it readily obeyed the helm. I turned it completely around by the tiller, and made an excursion of fully half a mile, I should think, up Stillwater Cove, once in a while getting out of the channel, when by stopping the goats and reversing the propeller I was able to back into the channel again, and finally to turn around by a series of forward and backward motions till I again arrived at the place from which I had started, which I knew by the anchor lying in mid-channel. By observation of the bottom I should say that the boat was propelled at least three miles an hour, which was sufficient for all my purposes. After arriving back to my first position I pointed the boat towards the sandy beach, and when the hanging shelves touched the bottom I carefully removed them and their weights to the top of the tanks, in the interior, and, with a short pole, pushed the boat still nearer the shore, till the tanks rested on the sand; and this I did with care and quickly, for I was a little afraid of a capsize when the hanging shelves were removed, which was only for a moment or two, however, before the boat was at rest on its own foundations, on the sand. I then forced down under the water from the interior quite a large block of wood under the tank that had the water pipe protruding, so that the latter should not be hurt by being driven into the sand when the whole boat was stranded at low water. The tide being now at ebb, I knew that I had not long to wait before the whole boat would be high and dry upon the sand. But having gotten my piece of timber under the tank to protect the water pipe, I opened the atmospheric pipe and let the whole boat sink solidly to the bottom, in all its parts, as well as the forward part that was resting on the sand. I then cautiously opened the manhole, ready to close it immediately should it yet be below the surface; but, as I supposed, it was out of the water at least six inches, and, throwing it open, I once again emerged into the open air of day. I released the goats and carried them on shore, and as the tide receded all the water left my tanks through the water pipe, which I then closed, and there was my boat as buoyant again as when it was first launched, with all the tanks full of air, and ready to be towed to an anchorage as soon as the next incoming tide should float it. I lay down upon the sea-side and contemplated my work, and wondered if it would not make me a rich man if I could transport it to some civilized portion of the earth. Was it possible for me to make a boat of this kind on a large scale, with a team of goats, fifteen or twenty in number, and traverse the depths of the ocean till I arrived at some Christian land? One thing at least was in its favor: I need fear no storms or any dangers of the ocean from waves or wind, and one other great obstacle would be overcome. I could leave the helm at any time and go to sleep, feeling sure that my boat would not be driven about by waves and winds, but repose peacefully in eqilibrio till I again awoke, and forced it forward upon its passage. There was matter for great thought in all this. But on the other hand, should my air fail me, or my tanks leak, or steering apparatus get out of order, I should either be stifled to death, drowned, or left beneath the ocean to wear out a miserable existence till death relieved me. The risk was too great. Besides I had no means but a compass of ascertaining where I was going, no glass lens to give me any light; but perhaps I might possibly make the latter. It was all well enough for me to venture out from my island where at the worst I could escape and swim ashore; and, if the truth must be spoken, I found myself too much in love with my island, and all its comforts, to hazard too much to escape from it. I cannot say that I did not long and long to escape, and that I did not mourn for companionship; but I must also confess that I had begun to love my island home also, in one sense, and I could see far enough ahead now into the future to acknowledge to myself that, should I escape, it would be only to return with companions to here end my days. These were different feelings than what I had when first cast on the island, as will readily be perceived by perusal of this manuscript, if ever, by the mercy of God, it comes to anybody's hands to read. But what could I--an old sailor, but not an old man, who had banged around the world--ask for more than I could obtain on my island except companionship? Nothing. Having secured the boat, and put the goats and spare traps into the canoe, I at the close of the day paddled myself back to the Hermitage, determined on the morrow to make an excursion out of Stillwater Cove into the ocean, and see what I could discover. To be doubly secure I made up my mind to tow the canoe with a long rope of rawhide on the surface of the water, astern of the submarine boat below it, so that if I did meet with disaster or shipwreck I could get into the former and make my way to the shore in safety,--in fact this arrangement would take away all danger from the enterprise, as I felt confident that I could always escape from the boat, and it would be well worth while to have the canoe at hand to jump into, if I had to do so. CHAPTER XXI. Explore the bottom of the ocean in the vicinity of the island with my submarine boat. Discover pearl-oysters, and invent a great improvement to my boat. I arose early the next day, and started in my canoe, accompanied by my two goats, to the mouth of Stillwater Cove. It was a beautiful day, and one just suited for my purpose. I had made up my mind to make my way out of the cove into the open ocean, and along the coast line of the breakwater, taking care, if possible, not to get too near in, so as to be troubled with the undertow. To enable me to do this I was first obliged to land on the breakwater, and with my compass to lay out some of the bearings and directions of the land and shore line--so as to be able to make a kind of chart--upon a piece of birch bark that I had brought for that purpose, to enable me to find my way back into the cove, or, missing that, at least to bring up somewhere on the shores of Perseverance Bay. Having gotten everything arranged, I went on board of my boat, which I found floating and in perfect order, having first recovered my anchor in the stream and taken that also on board. Once in the interior I shipped the hanging shelves and distributed the weights in their usual places. My goats evidently took everything as a matter of course, and quietly remained where I had fastened them, near the treadmill. I put my movable deck in good order, saw that my fresh water, provisions, and candles were all right, with a bundle of hay for the goats also. I then carefully examined all the stopcocks, the steering apparatus, and spray-wheel, and finding everything in order, and a fine, sunshiny day overhead, I made fast the "Fairy" to a ringbolt on the outside of the boat, and paid out a long scope of rawhide rope, so that I could sink at least forty fathoms without drawing her after me. Then, giving one more look at everything, and lighting a candle in case I should need one in any emergency, I shipped my propeller, attached the band to the treadmill, cast off my moorings, started the goats, and got under way, standing out in a westerly direction into the ocean. As soon as I was clear of Point Deliverance, and when about a hundred fathoms seaward to the eastward, I changed my course to the northward, all this time moving along with the manhole wide open, out of which I often looked to see how I was proceeding, and in what direction to steer. But I had scarcely got the head of the boat to the eastward before a heavy sea broke all over me, and came dashing down the manhole, but did me no harm, falling back, as it did, in the interior, into its own element. The inside deck was rather spattered, to be sure, and the goats evidently began to be surprised, if not frightened, at the motion of the boat, and I saw that the time had come to submerge it; but I kept on, for I was determined to keep above the surface, if possible, till I found myself opposite the place on the breakwater at which I had first been cast on shore, and which I well knew; for it was there that I determined to make my first descent, and see if I could not find some remains of the articles that were in the whaleboat when I was cast away. So to keep out the water I closed the manhole cover, but once in a while ran up the ladder, opened it and looked about me, till I at last found myself opposite the spot, and not more than a quarter of a mile distant. I then, by a word, stopped the goats, and shut down the cover of the manhole, and screwed up the set-screws, opened the water-pipe, and placed my hand upon the air-tank stopcock and allowed some of the air to escape. In one instant the boat that had before been buffeting about upon the billows was as quiet and steady as a rock. I did not descend far before I shut off the escape of air, and sat down to think. In the first place I saw that by a series of experiments I could easily, in the future, tell just how far I was descending by the rise of the water inside of the boat upon the sides of the tanks; for, as I descended, the pressure upon the air was of course increased, and therefore compressed, so that the water rose higher within, and nearer to the movable deck. Having examined my compass I started the goats again, and made for the outside of the breakwater, hoping to strike the very place where the whaleboat had formerly been destroyed. As I advanced towards the shore I found that I was not deep enough down to see the bottom, so I again descended till I could plainly see it below me, not ten feet distant. I spoke to my goats and had them relax their speed, and moved slowly forward. The bottom laid out to my view was composed of sand, rocks, and an infinite variety of sea plants. How can I expect to convey to anyone the beauties of this submarine view. The water--by its transparency and the light that I obtained by reflection--could not have been more than six fathoms deep, and in fact I knew that it was in that neighborhood, for I had often, in my canoe, been outside of the breakwater before, fishing and for other purposes, and I knew very nearly what water I ought to have. Although anxious to explore I could not resist the temptation to stop and gaze upon the beauties that lay before me, in all their marvellous freshness, unseen before by the eyes of mortal man since their creation by the Almighty. Many of the plants before me, that seemed like sparkling gems, I knew well would look so only as they now stood, in their native garden, surrounded by water, and that, taken from the element or cast on shore, would fade ten times quicker than any land plant. Fishes of various sizes darted in every direction, and simply to please my own conceit I deliberately dropped a line amongst them and captured several, which I again allowed to escape. But even in my own solitude I could not help smiling at the idea of a mortal man sailing along at the bottom of the ocean and capturing its denizens at his leisure,--the thing was too comical. Although I had stopped the goats, my boat still had a motion, or rather I should say that I could see that the tide was drifting it sideways to the northwest, but very slowly, not more than a knot an hour. I think that I could have sat hours and looked upon this scene. It was like a new world opening up before me. Everything was plain, for no ripple blurred the surface of the water in the interior of my boat, and no wind of heaven rushed over it to destroy, for a moment even, its transparency. It was as still and motionless as death, and as quite large rocks and new objects seemed to pass by below me, I was sometimes startled at their beauty and grandeur. It was a panorama. I seemed to be stationary, fixed, as immovable as the foundations of the earth; and these objects passed in review before me exactly as if moving along in space. It was difficult to disabuse my mind of the fact that I was not stationary, but that the objects upon which I was gazing were. This feeling was increased in a marked degree by the absolute stillness and want of motion, in itself, of my submarine boat. I hated to break in upon this deathlike silence by the motion of my propeller, but I was being swept by the tide slowly away from my destination, and it would not do to proceed too far, so as to lose the true course by compass. Reluctantly then I spoke to my goats and put the boat in motion, and proceeded upon my way. I had not advanced, far when I perceived that I was entering a perfect forest of submarine plants and kelp, the long tendrils of which, sustained by the water, reached upwards towards the surface. I saw that I was upon dangerous ground, and therefore stopped the treadmill and reversed my propeller, and backed out from my position. I then rigged my pump and made the boat ascend so as to pass over their heads, and again forced the boat towards the breakwater, but this time I found that I was getting into the undertow, and the forest beneath me warned me not to descend; so I had nothing to do but to back out seaward and give up all idea of exploring the place of my shipwreck. When I had pushed back so as to be clear of the tangled plants that seemed to surround the margin of the island on this side, I commenced again to descend, and allowed the boat to rest within a few feet of the bottom, and, rigging my spray-wheel, went to work to renew and purify my air, which I had no difficulty in doing. I then moved about in different directions, taking care all the time to keep a reckoning by my compass of the courses sailed and the distances passed over, by dead reckoning. During one of my stationary moments I had a complete view of as large a shark as I have ever seen. He passed directly beneath me, and took no more notice of the boat than if it had been a stationary rock. He was at least sixteen feet in length, and would have made but a mouthful of poor me. [Illustration: THE SUBMARINE BOAT.--PAGE 243.] I wish that I could describe the sights that I saw. It seemed as if I was in another world, and had passed from this existence to one more advanced, in which I floated in space. The extreme silence of all about me, and the rigidness of all objects seen, was very striking. At each moment some beautiful fish or plant struck my view, of which I had never before had any knowledge. I moved about in all directions, trying to find, if possible, some bank of pearl-oysters, and I had a good idea of how they ought to look, for I had once, in my younger days, descended with the divers in the East Indies to the pearl-oyster beds, and knew the whole practical science of the business. At last, at a point by compass and dead-reckoning about northeast from Point Deliverance, and distant two miles, I came upon what I wanted,--or rather what I hoped was what I wanted,--namely, a perfect bank of oysters, in thousands, clustered together. My first act was, after stopping the boat, to throw over a light anchor, to hold it in position; the next to cast into the water a small grapnel, to which was attached a long piece of rawhide rope, fully forty fathoms in length, ending in a wooden buoy, shaped like a tenpin in a bowling-alley, and of about the same size. This, after dropping the grapnel, by means of a short boat-hook I thrust under the tank of the boat, and saw it rapidly take up the spare line as it ascended towards the surface. And as it was so ascending it flashed upon me that here was also a practical way of determining at all times the depth of water; for this buoy only took out about seven or eight fathoms of the line before it became stationary, evidently having reached the surface. I used this buoy to anchor the reef, so as to be able to find it in future trips, when I had only to stand out towards it, on pleasant days, on the surface of the water, and, when I found it, descend and find myself on the reef. And for measurement of my depth below the surface I had only, in future, to fasten a light, buoyant piece of wood to a small cord, marked off into fathoms, which I could at any time thrust under the tanks and allow to ascend to the surface, and note how many of the fathoms of line were taken up, which would denote my depth below the surface, and then draw my sounding-buoy back again into the boat for further use, simply reversing the method that is used on shipboard. That is to say, instead of throwing a lead with a marked line to the bottom of the ocean, I threw a buoy to the surface. Nature seemed to be capsized, and everything upside down, as used to appear in using the inverted telescope in my first attempts to take the altitude of the sun with a sextant. If I had not lived so solitary a life I could have laughed at many of the things that befel me in this submarine boat. Having gotten the boat securely anchored, and the buoy thrown out as I have related, I went to work gathering the oysters. I had taken care to bring with me a light pickaxe, a crowbar, and a sort of hand-rake, similar to ones used by East Indian divers, which I proceeded to employ upon the mass of oysters below me. I had no difficulty in detaching all I wanted of them, and filling my decks, and particularly the hanging shelves, which I relieved of their stones and weights, replacing them by masses of the oysters. I made a long job of this, and, having gotten all I desired, I drew up my anchor and got again under way, ascending as near as possible to the surface before advancing towards the land. During all this time, whenever necessary, I had renewed my air by use of the spray-wheel. Being near the surface, which I was made aware of in several ways, such as the increased light, the disappearance of the bottom from view, and a slight noise of the waves above me, and a little motion of the boat, caused by their agitation, I put the goats at full speed, feeling sure that for at least two miles nothing was in my way. After I had, as I calculated, gone this distance, I slowed down, and proceeded more cautiously; but after an hour's work I made no land, nor found any great shallowing of the water. Here was a pretty scrape. By my chart I was past Stillwater Cove, and even in the interior of the island, and not a sign of the land or shallow water could I find. I began to be seriously troubled, and I foresaw that unless I soon made some shallow water I should be obliged to dive under my tanks, and look about me and see where I was. But before I did this I descended and anchored, and found out for the first time that I was at last in a strong current, setting towards the westward. This frightened me still more, and I ascended at once, stripped off the little clothing that I had on, and plunged into the water and came up buoyant as a cork on the surface, and pulled the canoe towards me and got into it without much effort. One glance showed me what the trouble was. I had gradually, during the whole day, drifted to the westward, and had passed West Signal Point, and was, in the direction I was pursuing, leaving the island on the port hand, behind me. One glance in the open air cleared my brain, and gave me a true idea of where I was, for I confess that the many courses that I had sailed beneath the surface had rather confused me. Taking one more good look about me, I plunged into the sea under my tanks, and was again inside my boat, which I speedily started in the right direction, and in less than two hours made shallow water, when I once more had to dive out of the boat and look about me, when I found that I had made a pretty good landfall, as I was in Perseverance Bay, not more than a quarter of a mile from the mouth of Stillwater Cove, having overrun it; and as I was so near home I dove back again, started the goats, and soon had the pleasure of finding myself in the cove, some part of the bottom of which I already recognized; and I foresaw that if I should make many trips I should be able to recognize the bottom just as easily as one recognizes familiar objects on land. I stranded my boat in the usual manner, and waited for the tide, which was now at an ebb, to leave the top exposed, for the buoyancy of the boat was not very great from my frequent use of the air-tank stopcock. During this time I busied myself in casting the oysters to the bottom, and then moving the boat, which was thus lightened, a little to one side, so that, when the tide returned, the former would be exposed clear of the boat. I then unshipped the movable shelves and put everything in order in the interior, and sat down and ate a hearty meal, after which I tried the manhole, which, by the pressure of the tanks upon the sand, I felt confident was above the surface, which proved to be the fact. I soon had the goats ashore, who seemed to be glad to escape from the confinement of the boat, and gambolled about me. I waited patiently for the tide to go down far enough for me to get at my oysters, which I conveyed to the land, above high-water mark, and, sitting down, commenced with my knife to open one or two of them. I think it was the third that I was opening when my knife-blade struck against something that made my heart beat. I laid open the oyster, and there within it, nestled near to the upper shell, was as beautiful and perfect a pearl as anyone could desire to see. It was not very large,--perhaps the size of a common pea,--but of a pure cream color, and of perfect oval form. I knew at once that it was a jewel of value and price, and I carefully hid it away in my clothing. This prize sufficed me. It proved to me the importance of my discovery, and I was determined that the sun should do the remainder of the work for me, and therefore left the oysters where they lay, to be made putrid by exposure, when the pearls that they might contain could be very easily washed out. I was not wholly satisfied with my boat. I did not like the idea of having to dive overboard to find out where I was, as I had had to to-day, and I commenced racking my brains to overcome it; and at last I accomplished it in theory, and it may be as well to state here that it served me perfectly when put in practice on many future occasions, and in fact almost took the place of the spray-wheel. It was this. I arranged, in the first place, a sort of air-boat, in the shape of the half shell of an English walnut, but shallower, nearly four feet in length. This boat was made of very thin sheet-iron, but perfectly airtight, and upon it was lashed, in a horizontal position, a cylinder of sheet-iron, closed at one end and open at the other, a foot in diameter, and in length the same as the shallow, airtight, walnut-shaped boat that sustained it. At the end of this boat, just below the mouth of the cylinder, was affixed a solid iron ring, and to this was spliced a strong rawhide rope of great length. To utilize this machine I made two long bars of iron, which I could arrange in the interior of the boat, across its greatest diameter, in the form of the letter V, pointing downwards towards the bottom of the ocean, and at the point of contact was arranged a block through which the rope attached to the air-boat could be rove. This inverted derrick, in the form of a letter V, was still further braced by another bar, leading to one of the short diameters of the boat, in the interior, forming a tripod. To use the air-boat I had only (at any time when beneath the surface and in need of air, either to purify that surrounding me or obtain enough to force the boat out of water on the surface, after having used up the air in the tanks) to reeve the rawhide rope through the derrick, as above, and erect the same in an inverted form, pointing towards the bottom, and then put the air-boat in the water in the interior of the submarine boat, force it bodily down in a horizontal manner till the cylinder was filled with water, and then start the goats so that the rope attached to the nose of the air-boat, leading down to the inverted apex of the tripod, through the block, and thence to the drum of the treadmill, would be tautened, and cause it to erect itself in a perpendicular manner, and be forced down under the water towards the apex of the tripod. When submerged enough to clear the bottom of the tank I slackened the rope gradually, pressing it at the same time out and clear from the tank, and yet keeping enough strain upon it to prevent its touching the latter; when, as soon as it was clear, I slacked the rope wholly, to allow it to arise to the surface outside, which it rapidly did on account of the confined air in the air-tight shell. Of course immediately upon its arrival at the surface it righted itself, and presented the appearance, on a small scale, of a barrel with one head out, placed in a horizontal position upon a small sled or vessel. In this position all the water that had been in the cylinder was at once discharged, and, to get a measure of fresh air exactly equal to the dimensions of this cylinder, I had only to set the goats to work, to take the rope to the drum of the treadmill, the first effect of which was to depress the nose and open mouth of the cylinder on the air-boat, at the surface, and the next to drag it down under the water in a perpendicular position, with the cylinder charged with air, which could not escape. As soon as it appeared clear of the outside of the tank, against which it rubbed in its descent, and was brought down near to the inverted apex of the tripod, I commenced slacking the same rope till it arrived at the surface of the water within the submarine boat, when I cast off the rope and it righted itself violently, discharging at the same time the contents of the cylinder in the shape of new air, and I had only to repeat this process of conveying fresh air from the surface to obtain all I needed, taking care only, in sending the apparatus to the surface, to see that, when the air-boat was first pointed under water ready to ascend, it took back with it none of its precious freight, which was easily obviated when it was held in a semi-perpendicular state, and half submerged ready to ascend, by pushing upon the part out of water till it was forced into a horizontal position, the air from the cylinder discharged, and replaced by water, when, after descending towards the connecting points of the tripod and pushed clear of the side tank, it was allowed to ascend to the surface, discharge the water, and descend again filled with air. With this apparatus I found that I could even compress the air in the interior, and in many future expeditions I had no trouble in making my submarine boat, at any time, self-sustaining on the surface of the water, and I could by a little labor come to the surface, open my manhole, and look about me and see where I was. [Illustration: THE AIR BOAT.] CHAPTER XXII. Manufacture glass. Build a steam yacht, and circumnavigate the island. Lay up large stores of valuable pearls obtained from the pearl oysters. After I had perfected my submarine boat I used it often to gather the pearl oysters, and it was not difficult to steer straight to the buoy on the reef, fill the shelves of my boat, arise again to the surface, and return home. After allowing my first load to putrify, I went to work upon them and washed them out in the water of Stillwater Cove, obtaining nearly a handful of seed-pearls, some twelve of the size of peas, and four very handsome and perfectly-shaped larger ones. This induced me to keep on; for here was portable wealth such as I could take away with me when I left the island. Let it suffice to say that, during repeated trips at intervals, I ended by obtaining probably the finest private collection of pearls in the world. I had some eighteen of enormous size, nearly as large as English walnuts, but as perfect as if from the turning-lathe,--except one that had a slight blemish, and one that was irregular in form,--and I much doubted if there were more perfect and larger ones in any royal crown. They were regal in size and appearance, and were, I knew, of immense value. Besides these sixteen perfect gems without price, I had at least four hundred and sixty as large as a small filbert nut, and several hundreds as large as common peas, not to speak of vast quantities of seed-pearls, too many to enumerate. If I could escape from the island, these treasures would keep me in ease and comfort in any part of the world. During the year succeeding the finishing of my submarine boat, I was taken up with many new inventions almost too numerous to mention. I enclosed another large piece of ground as a pasture for my goats, of which I had now as many as I chose to keep; in fact, I loosed many of the she-goats and kids into the woods to return to a state of nature, having more than I could attend to. From the remainder I made cheese, butter, jerked meat, etc. It may be possible that some persons have lived as well as I, but at this time I had everything that could be desired. I improved upon my ways of preserving my fruits, and from a ground-nut that I found on the island extracted a most delicious oil, which I used in all my cooking. I had by this time, by repeated breedings, brought the wild quail, that I saw when first arriving at the island, to a state of barnyard fowl, and I had their delicate flesh and eggs added to my larder. From my grapes I was able to make several kinds of pleasant light wines. In fact I had everything but companionship. But by my temperament I could not keep still, so I must yet invent something new that would be of use to me. What I wanted most at this time was glass, plate-glass for my submarine boat, and I was determined to have it. So, with my book to guide me, at it I went. I knew that silicic acid, practically glass, was represented by sea-sand. I also knew, or rather discovered from perusal and study of my book, that this sea-sand, freed from iron, formed the base of glass. Also that silica, silicic acid, or oxide of silicon exists in great abundance in nature, being the principal constituent in rock and stone, and that crystal and quartz held it in its purest forms. This, combined with potash or soda, and subjected to a powerful heat, would, I knew, make glass, if mixed in the right proportions. In the first place I gathered some five or six hundred pounds of the finest, purest, and whitest sea-sand that I could find. This I carefully washed in some seven or eight waters of Rapid River, till it was purified of all its salt, and then it was placed in my ore-cleansing kiln, and burned, or rather heated, to a red heat, to get rid of all vegetable matter, and then sifted through wire screens to get rid of any pieces of fuel with which it might have become charged. Having thus gotten my sand all in order, purified, and cleansed, I went with the goat team, and a handy little cart with cast-iron wheels and frame, that I had made during odd times, to the coal mine, to bring home some of the chalk there to be found, of which there were large quantities, and of a fine quality. This I brought home and reduced to a fine powder by pounding it up with hammers, and sifting it through fine sieves. I then went to work and built some large fires upon the seaside, upon which, when in full blaze, I placed large quantities of kelp or barilla, which was finally converted into ashes. After I had burned sufficient of it, I allowed the fires to go out, and gathered the ashes carefully, to which I added a quantity of fresh water and stirred it about carefully, preserving the fluid in open iron pans, which I placed upon fires and evaporated, and had carbonate of soda as the result; and, although on a desert island where there is supposed to be nothing, my book informed me that kelp or barilla was the best article from which to make carbonate of soda, and some kinds of sea-sand the very best base of which to form glass. Having thus procured the component parts of which to make my glass, I set to to make a large clay pot in which to fuse it, that would fit in the base of my iron-smelting furnace, so as to be surrounded by the air blasts. My clay pits fitted me out with this without any trouble, and I then had to manufacture a level plate of iron, about two feet square, with a raised rim of some inch and a half in height, and this I placed in a horizontal position in front of the door of the furnace, and rigged above it a large iron roller to work by machinery, that could be passed over its face. I then mixed my ingredients by hand in the following proportions:-- Prepared sand 400 lbs. Carbonate of soda 250 " Ground chalk 30 " and put the empty clay pot into the furnace and started an immense fire around it. As soon as it was at a white heat I filled it with my mixture, placing it in the pot by means of a long iron spoon some six feet in length, protecting my face with a mask of goatskin, and my hands by gloves of the same material. When vitrification was complete, which took place in about eighteen hours, and which I ascertained by plunging a long rod of iron into the pot, I ladled out a lot of the mass by means of a clay-lined, long-handled, iron ladle, and poured the rapidly-cooling but pliable substance upon the iron table constructed for it, and, pressing the iron roller upon it in all its parts, soon rolled out a sheet of glass two feet square and at least an inch and a half thick. Allowing this to cool, I repeated the process after removing it, till I had made six large squares. I then changed the roller so as to come lower down to the iron plate, and by this method commenced turning out sheets of plate glass two feet square and about one quarter of an inch thick. My task was done. I had all the glass I should ever want as long as I should live; enough for the side lights of my boat, and also for windows to the Hermitage. Fully satisfied with my task, I allowed my fire to go down, and the large slabs of glass to cool. On the next day I set to work to polish the glass I had made, and this I found a laborious and slow task. But it had to be done, and I commenced with fine pulverized and sifted sand, or rather quartz, and ended with chalk. It was many weeks before all was done, for I needed emery to help me in this task, and could find none, and had to make other things do. But at last I had four fine slabs of plate glass quite well polished and clear, each two feet square, and one and a half inches thick; and several that were of a quarter of an inch in thickness, many of which I had broken in attempting to polish them. The latter were soon fitted into position as window lights in the Hermitage, and pleasant enough they made the interior look. The former were made to fit into four holes cut out of the solid iron of the boat and fitted with flanges, into which they were set with great care by means of what the Chinese call _chenam_, a sort of water cement made of lime, oil, white of eggs, and clam shells powdered fine, used by them in making all their vessels water-tight. These four panes of plate glass, each two feet square, and an inch and a half thick, were placed at either end and both sides of my boat on the slanting roof, and gave me a chance to see in what direction the boat was moving, to avoid obstacles, and aid me in submarine navigation. They were also thick enough to withstand a blow of great force, and not to be affected by the pressure of water upon them when at great depths; but, to preserve them more fully from any danger, I built outside of them all a wire screen, the meshes of which were perhaps two inches apart, and distant from the face of the glass outwards some six inches, made of strong iron wire at least three eighths of an inch in diameter, so that if by chance the boat should receive a blow, or be forced upon or back against any object, these screens would receive the blow and not the naked glass, although I am ready to believe that the latter would have sustained an immense shock without breaking, it was so thick and perfect, without crack or flaw. I should have said that all my glass had just the faintest tinge of green, caused by the minute particles of iron in the sea-sand of which it was composed, of which I had not been able to completely free it, although I had used magnets to extract large portions of it; but enough remained to give it this very light tinge of which I have spoken. I had no difficulty in cutting my thin glass into any shape I desired, by means of case-hardened steel, which would scratch it deep enough to be broken off, although a glazier's diamond would have perhaps performed the operation better; but a piece of sharp-edged chilled-steel answered all practical purposes. Later on I had occasion to again make glass, but at this time I did not waste a moment in making household utensils, glasses, or bottles, my earthenware, wooden ware, and ironware doing excellent service for me, and I had need of no utensil that they could not supply. With my submarine boat perfected and supplied as it now was with its immense windows, I made many trips, and the sights under the water that my eyes gazed upon I could write thousands of pages about. I made no great discovery, however, in all my wanderings, except to find two more oyster-banks, more to the northeast than the first one, but not so prolific. I saw often many creatures that never come to the surface, and for which there is no name, some of them small and seemingly harmless, and others quite frightful and startling. I passed over, upon three different occasions, enormous cuttle-fishes, or squids, with tentacles at least six or eight feet in length, and eyes three inches in diameter; but they never, upon any occasion, paid the slightest attention to my boat, but remained perfectly motionless, clinging to the stony bottom, waiting for their prey, and I took good care never to disturb them. Immense crabs and lobsters, the very patriarchs of the ocean, often lay on the bottom to my view, and seemingly deformed and curious fishes, large and small, some like serpents and some like inflated balls, often met my view as I floated along with the tide a few feet above the bottom. I never wholly got over the sensation of being at the bottom of the ocean; it always seemed as if I had entered another world, where all was changed, and in which every living thing was compelled to keep an eternal silence. Many parts of the bottom, especially that near the pearl-oyster reef and the approaches to Stillwater Cove, became, shortly after using my glass windows, as familiar to me as similar places would have been on land; there being fully as many distinguishing marks, peculiar in themselves, as upon the rocks and protuberances of the island itself. I loved this lonely under-water drifting about, and indulged in it as a recreation as well as to increase my store of pearls. I sometimes watched for hours the habits and movements of the animals below me, that seemed not to care for my presence; but quite often some huge monster of the sea would pass by me, making me hold my breath with awe, if not fright. But I often thought that my iron boat would be a hard mouthful for anything beneath the waters to attempt to swallow. I had long, long ago given over any idea of being attacked by savages, and my nerves had become again, as in my younger days, hard as steel; yet I often used to think of how I could lie concealed in this boat, beyond discovery from any source, should I ever be attacked, or how, rising to the surface amongst a fleet of canoes, I could spread dismay by my appearance alone from the bottom of the ocean, among any body of savages, however numerically strong or valiant. No one will ever know the gardens of the ocean that I often sailed over, more beautiful far than anything upon the earth. My restless energy did not stop at the consummation of this submarine boat, but during this year I went to work upon a beautiful small steam yacht, to use for my pleasure and recreation. It was built partly of wood and iron, and constructed upon the ways from which the submarine boat was formerly launched. This steam yacht was not very large, but it was of a fine model and graceful lines. I built it twenty feet in length and six feet in width, and three feet draft of water, with nearly the whole decked over except the cockpit aft. It was fitted with one long mast, situated near the bows, and only to be used in case of emergency. The building of the boiler and engine, of about four-horse power, was to me a pleasure, not a labor, and the casting of the screw was the only thing that gave me any trouble. But this I finally overcame, after a few trials with different moulds. The little house that contained the cabin and engine-room was lighted with small pieces of plate glass, and I fitted the interior with a nice cot to sleep upon, lockers for provisions, coal, and fuel, a small cast-iron stove for cooking purposes, and all the handy appurtenances of a small yacht. My sail was not a very elegant one, and was made out of strong matting, light but coarse; I having, as yet, not attempted to make cloth in any shape. My cable was of rawhide, and my anchors, of course, of iron. With this boat, after a preparatory trial of its engine, in company with one of my pet goats I set out upon the circumnavigation of my island. It was one fine December morning that I steamed down Stillwater Cove, the yacht moving rapidly and evenly along through the water, and the machinery and screw working well and smoothly. I had invented a sort of comb to retain the tiller in any given position whilst absent from the deck in the engine-room to put on more fuel or oil the engine, so that the yacht would proceed in a straight course till my return to the deck. I intended to make a complete circuit of the island, and to be absent several days if needful; so before leaving the Hermitage I put everything in order. As to my flocks and birds, they at this season could take care of themselves very well for a few days. I laid my course first for West Signal Point, and, when I had doubled it, I pointed the yacht due north, and made quite an excursion in that direction, fully twenty-five miles; but, as I suspected, found no sign of any other land, although I climbed upon the mast and looked about me in all directions, the island astern being in the dim distance. I found that my little yacht was a splendid sea-boat, and, decked over as she was, plunged into the waves of the Pacific unharmed. Its rate of speed, in smooth water, I estimated at fully nine knots, and in a seaway at least five or six. Having in vain looked about me for land, which, however, I did not expect to find, I put about and steered back to the island, leaving West Signal Point on the port hand, and close aboard, making my way to the southward, and parallel with the western shore of the island, distant not over one mile. When off Penguin Point I again put to sea, at least twenty-five miles due west; but as in the former case discovered no land. When I had again come up with the island the day was nearly spent, and I took the yacht into a small cove, just to the westward of Mirror Bay, and, having anchored in smooth water, ate my supper, played with and caressed my goat, and went to bed. In the early morning I again got under way and stood out to sea, to the southward, but no sign of land. Thence I proceeded to Eastern Cape, and from there made a trip seaward, to the eastward, but with similar barren results. From thence I made my way home to the Hermitage, pleased with my yacht and with the trip, but doubly convinced that my island was alone and distinct, and not one of a series or group. As I passed Mirror Bay on this trip I was tempted to enter it and explore the island more fully in that direction, but as I found on the second day that my machinery of the yacht needed some slight alteration and change, I made my way home, as I have said, determined to make a new trip for this very purpose, and therefore, upon my arrival, I immediately went to work upon those parts of the engine that did not exactly please me by their working, and improved and perfected them in my workshop, by means of my turning-lathe and other tools, till they suited my mechanical tastes and worked perfectly to my satisfaction. I fitted my yacht with two nice iron howitzers, of about three pounds caliber, and had hung up in the cabin a harpoon and lance, with two of my smooth-bored guns and plenty of ammunition. The coal that I had stored on board would last me many days, for there was at least three tons, and the furnace of my little boiler did not use more than one-quarter of a ton daily, if as much. I had also on deck a very light small boat, not over six feet in length, in which I could reach the shore whenever I anchored the yacht near it. Thus fitted out, which took me several days, I started again upon my exploration, and it was upon this trip I made one of the most startling discoveries yet since I had been shipwrecked; one that changed all my views about the island, and the future, and carried me completely out of my every-day life into a period of excitement, curiosity, and amazement, and which, as will be disclosed, had a marked effect upon all my future movements. CHAPTER XXIII. Discovery of a human habitation. The skeleton and manuscript. It will be remembered that I had never been able in my own mind to account for many things that I had found upon the island; amongst others, the goats, sweet potatoes, and tobacco. I could not disabuse my mind of the impression that some one else had been before me on this lonely spot of earth; that man at some age of its existence had placed his foot upon the soil. I little knew when I started on my trip to Mirror Bay how soon some of these mysteries, that had so many years confused me, would in a moment be made plain. I looked forward to no startling adventure, and yet I was, without knowing it, sailing straight towards the solution of many problems, guided, unknown to myself, by a mightier hand than mine. I arrived safely in Mirror Bay, and proceeded up towards the river, the machinery of my yacht working beautifully. When I arrived at the mouth I found that I could still ascend, but thought it best to anchor near the western bank, just inside the mouth, and not a stone's throw from the bank. I had come by the way of the Eastern Cape, and having started early in the morning, at daybreak, about four o'clock, I found myself at anchor at about seven o'clock by the sun, having made the run in three hours, or at least six knots an hour, the distance being, as near as I can judge, eighteen miles. When my yacht was nicely anchored, and the fire put out and the engine placed in order, I took my little flat-boat and went on shore with my goat, intending to walk inland in a northwesterly direction, towards Mirror Lake; but I had scarcely taken ten steps into the open woods before I recoiled with a sensation of fear, such as I have never before experienced, and made for my boat, but before I reached it my horror had become curiosity. Turning about, I faced the direction from whence I had come; and, taking my shot-gun from my shoulder, I looked carefully to the flint to see that it was all right, eased a knife that I carried at my belt in its sheath, and thus, with my mind collected, but with my brain almost confused with excitement, I advanced slowly towards the place from which I had just retreated in so startled a manner. Yes; there could be no mistake; looking through the boughs of an intervening tree of small growth, I saw a HUMAN HABITATION, and the habitation evidently of a civilized, or at least semi-civilized, being. Before me--in ruins, to be sure, but still unmistakably the work of human hands, and skilled ones, too--stood a stone hut at least ten feet square, and with dilapidated stone walls at least eight feet high, without roof, and with evident remains of a door and two apertures for windows facing towards the sea in the direction I stood. I leaned against the tree that I stood near, faint and overcome with emotion. A thousand thoughts rushed through my mind, but I soon convinced myself that this habitation had been deserted by man for long ages of time. Should I ever know how long? Everything about the hut denoted extreme age and decay; trees were even growing from the interior, and showed above the walls where the roof ought to be; rank weeds and grass grew in the open doorway, and vines crept around the dismantled walls; yet there it stood, a monument unmistakable of a human presence at some previous time, and a civilized one, too. No savage hands ever erected those walls or pierced those apertures for door and windows. I sat down, still gazing at the hut, and tried to gather my wits together and to overcome my agitation. Fifteen minutes in this position brought to me a certain amount of composure, for nothing presented itself that I could fear, and it seemed as if little information could be gained by a closer inspection. Those who had built this hut had long since departed whence they came, or were stilled by the hand of death; there was nothing left for me,--no companionship, no information, nothing but the knowledge gained that the island had been inhabited either by chance or by colonization, and those who had visited it had built this hut, and, no doubt, brought the goats, tobacco, and sweet potatoes that had so long puzzled my brains to account for. Was this hut all, or was it one of a series? Was it the preparatory discovery to many others, or lone and solitary? Alas! I knew not. Having completely recovered my composure and stilled my beating pulses, I advanced to examine more minutely the cause of my amazement and fright. Passing within what had formerly been the door, I found myself in a space of at least nine feet square, enclosed within rough, strong, but ruined walls. The remains of shelves were plainly visible upon the walls, and evidences of a prolonged occupation at some former day by civilized persons met my view. The hut had evidently never had any flooring, and in its place a long and luxuriant grass flourished. Passing further into the interior, I moved towards the southerly wall--the door opening towards the eastward--and proceeded to examine that portion. My eye caught, half way up the wall, a sort of projecting shelf, with something evidently made by human hands still clinging to its battered and weather-worn surface. I rushed eagerly towards it, but, before my hand could grasp it, I was almost thrown down by catching my feet in an obstacle hidden in the long grass, between me and my object. Regaining myself with difficulty, I glanced down to see what had obstructed my progress, and found my feet _mixed up in the bones of a human skeleton_. I was not frightened, but shocked, and, clearing my feet with care, I stepped back and examined these mute witnesses of former life. Here then, thought I, are the remains of one at least who has lived and died upon my island long ages ago. How did he come here? How long did he live here? Why did he die? Would this eventually be my fate, and should I some day have to lie down and die, too, with no one to inter my bones? This human being was either alone or else the last to succumb, or otherwise his bones would have been interred and not left to whiten the surface of the earth. Would this be my fate? To be sure, I had not as yet been sick one day so as to be confined to my bed, and had only suffered from minor ills, such as colds and slight summer attacks, but how long was it to be before I should be laid up in my own house, with fever or delirium, with none to care for me? To be sure, I had carefully arranged affairs about my bed in case of such a contingency, having arranged a shelf, upon which I had placed simple remedies, such as I had been able to collect, near to my hand, such as sulphur and saltpetre, with a few steeped herbs enclosed in jars ready for use to my hand, with spare matches, and lamps, and some preserved suet, etc. I had done everything that I could do to preserve myself should I be taken suddenly and dangerously ill; but what was to prevent me from at last coming to this very state before me, to die in my bed, and remain a grinning skeleton for some future generation to discover. Nothing but Divine Providence could keep me from this pitiable end. For if I did not escape it was only a matter of time when I should appear before others as this poor mortal appeared before me. I could not and would not believe that I was reserved for so cruel a fate. I was unwilling to believe that God, who had endowed me with enough intellect to construct and invent the many useful articles I had gathered around me, would allow me to perish, alone, uncared for, and unwept. My courage arose as I gazed upon the skeleton before me, and I moralized thus: You must have lived in an age when God had not granted to mortals the permission to discover and utilize many of the arts and sciences of my day; you did not live when steam was the motive power, when the lightnings of the heavens were made obedient to man to convey his demands and requests, when the paddle-wheels of floating steamers beat the waters of all the oceans of the earth. All of these things, and many others, were unknown to you. My case is not as bad as yours was, if you were shipwrecked. I, of this century, on this same island, have gathered about me, from nothing, strength and power. You, seemingly, have had only this rude hut over your head. I have chances of escape; I doubt if you ever had any from the first day of your arrival, for I cannot conceive of your having willingly remained upon this desert isle. And now, poor mortal, passed away so long ago, let us see if you can do anything for me, your living prototype. [Illustration: FINDING THE SKELETON.--PAGE 268.] And, thus ending my musings, I kneeled down and commenced cutting away with my knife the long grass that surrounded and that was even interwoven with the bones. The clothes, if there had ever been any at the time of death, had long since been destroyed and blown away by the winds of heaven. From the narrow bone of the middle finger of the left hand, which was nearest me, I drew off a handsome gold-chased ring, with a fine carbuncle for a jewel, the whole in a state of perfect preservation. This at once announced that my unfortunate was a civilized being and one of some importance. Moving towards the right hand, I found the bones of the fingers imbedded in a tuft of grass, and, releasing them, I ascertained that they grasped some object in their clasp, which remained partly buried in the ground and soil that nature had piled up around it. Taking the point of my knife, I released it, and held in my hand a beautifully chased silver snuff-box, encrusted and soiled by exposure, to be sure, but in a remarkable state of preservation. I forced open the lid, and took out a small piece of parchment, which almost crumbled under my fingers. Being, however, warned by my discovery, I acted with caution, and took the box and its contents to a smooth stone outside the hut, and commenced examining the contents with care. The wrapper of parchment that crumbled under my fingers disclosed another within it that was much better preserved, and, noticing carefully that there was no writing upon the outer covering, I cast it away and commenced opening the second, which was also of parchment, but in a good state of preservation. This was also blank, but within it was enclosed a third piece, not more than six inches square when opened, on which were written these words:-- _Anno Dom. 1781,_ _Dec. ye 17th._ [cross] _Being neare to death I putt this on record in hopes that some God-fearing mann maye find it and become my heir. I have burried under ye foot of ye large tree, distant 27 pases from ye sou-yeste corner of this hous, a fulle and complete hystorie of my life and where my treasur lyes. Alas! at ye bottom of the sea, but hence it maye by skill and fortytude bee recovered._ _Who he be that redes this, if of Christan breeding, I proclaim heir to me. If not Christan I hope he wille nott be able to read this, or discover my secret. Lette my bones be burried. My curse upon himn who uses this treasur butt for good, which I acquired by yeares of bloodshed. Wille God ever forgive me?_ _THOMAS SUTLAND._ As I finished reading the above I glanced out beyond the ruined walls, and saw before me the tree that was mentioned, but I did not move to solve the mystery further. Here was matter enough for thought before me where I sat. What had been this mortal's life that he should here set down that he had gained a treasure through bloodshed? I examined carefully the ink with which the document was written, and made up my mind that it was composed of blood, that this human being had probably written these lines with blood from his own veins some eighty years ago; and, although the characters were faint, they were perfectly legible. Treasure! what was treasure to me that was at the bottom of the sea? Ah! but I had a submarine boat with which I could seek for it. My curiosity began to be aroused, but my thoughts were still so conflicting that I did not yet fully grasp the information that the parchment conveyed. After a long musing I commenced again my search around the hut, and, in the first place, took from the shelf the article that had attracted my notice, which proved to be a perfectly formed clay pipe, of heavy and ancient pattern, but as well preserved as the day it was laid upon the shelf. The stem, of whatever material formed, had disappeared, but there was the bowl, just as used eighty years ago. I put it carefully to one side, and again commenced my explorations of the hut, which I began, by clearing away all the grass and shrubbery from within, and exposing, as far as practicable, the former flooring. Suffice it to say that, after a long day's work, this was the amount of my discoveries and collections,--one rusty gun-barrel, with stock and lock gone; the rusty remains of two large pistols, and one cutlass; the remnants of an iron pot, and open fireplace; and parts of a steel-plated helmet or fighting hat; with smaller pieces of iron and steel, of which it was impossible now to distinguish the use or form, a golden ring, a silver snuff-box, a pipe, a mass of useless, broken, rust-eaten steel and iron utensils, and a human skeleton. This was all, when gathered together, that my explorations brought to view, except the precious document that was to explain the whole. With a sad and despondent heart I called my pet goat to my side, and descended towards the yacht, and went on board to think over my strange adventure. This island then had been known eighty years ago, had been inhabited, even. Had this unfortunate been cast on shore alone as I was? No; his arms, hut, and utensils told another story. Why had he remained in this solitary spot? To expiate some horrible crime? By the confession before me, it seemed like it. How much character did this parchment, on the face of it, proclaim? In the first place, a bloody and savage nature, by its own confession; second, a fair, but not over excellent, education; third, a superstitious or cowardly fear of the Almighty in the hour of death, after confessed deeds of blood; fourth, a love of display, as exhibited in the snuff-box and ring; fifth, authority and command of some degree, as shown by the remains of costly weapons. Thus I gave my brain excitement all the night, instead of indulging my curiosity by trying to discover the history referred to. My life had been so lonely that I postponed as long as possible the final revelation of the life of this man. I played with the sensations that my discovery had evoked, as a cat does with a mouse, or as a sailor with his last piece of tobacco at sea, or a miser his gold. The sensation was so intoxicating to have something to think about out of the usual run that I did not choose to have it solved, and yet was on fire to solve it. In the morning, after a restless, sleepless night, I plunged into the waters of the bay and took my customary bath, and then to breakfast, after which I commenced the proseecution of my search with vigor. I proceeded to the southeast corner of the hut and paced off twenty-seven paces, which brought me to the tree that my eye had already picked out as the one alluded to. With some iron utensils that I had brought from the yacht, including the iron coal-shovel and poker, I commenced making an excavation in the ground. I dug a hole at least four feet deep before I found anything out of the ordinary, but when at about that depth, my shovel struck upon something that was not earth, as I felt assured, and I soon laid open before my eyes the top of what was evidently a wooden box of some foot or two in diameter, but so interwoven with the roots of the tree that had evidently grown about it since it was placed there, that I was unable to extricate it. I therefore went on board of the yacht and returned with a hatchet, and soon cleared away these obstructions, and dragged to the surface a rough wooden box, of an oblong shape, made of wood, of at least two inches in thickness originally, but now worm-eaten, rotten, and ready to be broken to pieces with my hands alone. With a slight use of my hatchet I forced this carefully apart, and found, within, a package rolled in what had evidently at some former time been birch bark. Peeling this off, I came to a glazed earthen or porcelain pitcher or jug with a large mouth and with handle, that would hold at least two quarts, the color of which was a dirty white or dusky brown. The mouth of this jug was closed with parchment, once carefully tied down, but now in a state of decomposition. Grasping my prize, I went on board of my yacht to examine it more fully at my leisure. This whole adventure had so worked upon my nervous system that I even went to work and got up steam and buoyed my anchor, ready to cast off at a moment's notice, before I would proceed further with my examination. Why I did this I cannot tell. It was a sort of sailor's precaution, engendered by years of care and prudence. My reason told me I had nothing to fear; my nerves told me to get ready for any emergency. Having seated myself quietly on deck, after making all the above arrangements, I took the jug again in hand and commenced to tear off carefully the parchment at the mouth. The outside one, being removed, disclosed another in a better state of preservation, and this second a third, which, when removed, showed a large soft-wood plug or cover, fitting into the mouth of the jug, and profusely covered with a sort of pitch, which had evidently been melted and poured upon it, and was probably made from the resinous gums with which the island abounded. I soon had this started by repeated knocks of my knife-handle, and the plug exposed, which, with the point of my knife, I had little difficulty in extracting; having done which, I emptied upon the deck a roll of parchment, tied up with a broad band of the same material. With intense emotion I opened the roll, consisting of several sheets; and, written in black ink, but with similar errors and ancient spelling, as in the first document, I found the following, which, corrected into modern English, read thus:-- CHAPTER XXIV. The Pirate's Manuscript. ISLAND IN THE PACIFIC OCEAN, October, 1781. In grief and sorrow, and great bodily pain, I write these lines, fearing that I shall not recover from my wounds, and that death will soon seize upon me. I ask Christian burial for my bones, and that God will forgive me my many sins. I was born an Englishman and passed an adventurous life till, in the year 1778, I found myself, after a life of villainy and piracy, captain of the armed brig "Rover," at the age of thirty-three, and cruising in these seas. It would take too long and be of little interest to relate how through years of bloodshed I had arrived at this eminence. It is enough to say that for the last ten years of my life I have spared neither man, woman, nor child, and that God in his power has at last brought this retribution upon my head. I could relate scenes of horror, and hairbreadth escapes, that would not be believed or credited, therefore I skip them all and come to the causes of my being imprisoned on this desolate island. The brig that I commanded had on many occasions been successful in preying upon the Spanish galleons of this coast, and many a South American city had even been put under contribution; but to the immense wealth and plunder thus obtained was to be added still another capture. On the morning of the 14th of August, 1781, the brig "Rover" lay in near the coast of South America waiting for the passage of two galleons, loaded with treasure from the Northern mines of El Dorado, for Valparaiso. From spies in that city I had found out that the treasure was estimated at twelve millions, in gold and silver bars, and that these galleons were armed with six eighteen-pounders each, and with a crew of Spaniards and natives, numbering sixty men. Two long weeks had we been lying near the coast standing out in the morning, and in towards the evening, waiting for our prey; when, on this fatal morning, after heading seaward for four hours, we discovered the enemy on the horizon to the northwest. The "Rover" was a strong, well-built brig of three hundred tons, and was manned by one hundred and twenty human devils, drawn from all nations, but mostly Englishmen, with a few South Americans and natives. We carried eight eighteen-pounders, and one long thirty-two pivot gun amidships. Our vessel was fast and a splendid sea-boat. We were favored with a wind from the southeast, which put the enemy to leeward of us, and we boldly clapped on all sail to come up with him, which perceiving, and also that we had the weather gauge, the cowardly Spaniards put up their helm and kept off before the wind, hoping to outsail us; but before they commenced this manoeuvre we had approached near enough to be sure that they were what we had been waiting for, and therefore, rigging out stu'nsails on both sides, we bowled along before the wind to the northwest, after the retreating enemy. It was soon apparent that the "Rover" was the faster sailer, and also that one of the galleons was a much better sailer or better handled than her consort; for we were coming up hand over hand to one of them, whilst the other, some two miles ahead, held her own much better. As we neared the sternmost and lagging galleon, we commenced firing from our bow-chasers, but without apparent effect. I think to this day that if the two had kept together they might possibly have beaten us off, but, separated as they were by their own cowardice, they would, I felt convinced, fall an easy prey to our designs. As we gradually neared the galleon, the crew of the "Rover" became more and more excited; and the cursed thirst for gold, and subsequent license and revel that was sure to follow its acquisition, glowered in each countenance. The time had come for our usual unholy rites, and, ordering up the steward, the usual cask of brandy was hoisted to the deck, the contents poured into two large tubs, and one of them transported to the quarter deck, whilst the other was left at the main hatch, and, at a preconcerted signal, the two bow-chasers were discharged at the enemy, the black flag run up to the mizzen peak, and all hands called upon to splice the main brace, or in other words, to craze their brains by partaking of the fiery liquor poured out before them; the quantity on the quarter deck having been mixed with gunpowder, to be distributed at the guns during the coming conflict as I might deem best or proper. We were now rapidly advancing upon our prey, but none of our shot seemed to have taken effect and as yet she had made no reply. Commanding silence fore and aft, I ordered more sail crowded upon the "Rover," and stood on till we were nearly alongside, and not a gunshot distant, and then, having brought all the eighteen-pounders to the starboard side, had them loaded with grape and canister. I ordered in sail, running in all the stu'nsails, and clearing the deck for action; but at last the enemy seemed to have waked up, for, whilst this was being done, she poured into us her broadside, killing and wounding several of the crew, but doing no further damage, and then immediately came to the wind, close hauled on the starboard tack. We followed rapidly, but, as all the guns were on the starboard side, I ran under her lee rather than try to keep the weather gauge, and at short pistol distance sent the contents of eight eighteen-pounders into her sides and rigging. The result was to have been anticipated: down came her top hamper and light sails, and she lay a wreck upon the water. Shooting ahead in the "Rover," I shortened sail, and, crossing her fore foot, held my vessel with the main topsail to the mast and poured in six broadsides of canister and grape, raking the enemy fore and aft, to which she could not reply with a single gun, and at the termination of which she lay a complete wreck upon the bosom of the ocean. Without a moment's delay the main yard was squared away, and, turning upon her heel, the "Rover" made all sail for the other galleon. It was four hours before we came up to her so as to be within shot, when a discharge from our pivot gun cut away some of her top-hamper, so that we commenced overhauling her rapidly; but this one, although she had run away in the commencement, now evidently meant fight, and she replied to our broadsides with bravery and vigor, so much so that I saw that there was nothing for it but to board her and carry her by assault, as we were being cut up in a fearful manner, and my crew dropping at each discharge. Seeing this, I sung out to the helmsman, "Lay her alongside," and, with a crash, we in a few moments struck her fore chains, having the weather gauge, and in a moment were securely lashed together. Mounting the taffrail, I sung out "Boarders away," and jumped upon the deck of the galleon, followed by my crew. It was with the same results I have so often seen before: no mercy, no quarter, and down under the blows of the cruel Rovers soon fell the Spaniards, and the galleon was ours. It was time, as she was evidently commencing to leak badly. Some of the crew were ordered to the pumps, and the main hatch was burst open, and, under threat of instant death, the position of the treasure was pointed out by the Spanish captain. The amount, estimated at some seven millions, was passed by sixty hands as fast as possible to the hold of the "Rover," down the companion way; and, when all was over, freeing the brig from the galleon, I took position near to her, crashing into her broadside after broadside, till she, with her wounded, dying, and living, sank beneath the waves. We had scarcely finished our awful work when night set down upon us, and, taking the bearings of the other wreck, we moved slowly forward toward her under shortened sail, so as not to pass her in the darkness. Upon mustering the crew it was found that twenty-seven had paid the penalty of death, whilst seventeen were seriously wounded, and twenty-one slightly. When morning broke, there lay the other galleon, not one mile distant broad on our weather bow. We soon came up to her and saw that she showed no signs of life, and, hauling off, we commenced repairing injuries that we had suffered in the conflict with her consort, and, having everything in as good order as possible, ranged up alongside preparatory to boarding, and in fact made fast with grappling-irons to the wreck; but not a man opposed us. Pouring in upon her decks, and questioning the wounded still on board, we ascertained that all remaining alive--not over twenty in number, it seemed--who were not wounded so as to be unable to do so, had escaped during the night in the shallop and made for the coast, trusting to the mercy of the sea rather than to ours. We soon had the bullion we were after exposed to view and rapidly transferred to the "Rover," which amounted, by the reckoning of the wounded Spaniards, to about five millions, so that the "Rover" had actually under hatches the enormous weight of some eighty tons in solid silver, and twenty-five tons in gold, all in bars, so as to overflow the usual stronghold and necessitate stowage in the hold, as one might stow cargo. Having helped ourselves to all the casks of wine and brandy on board, we cut adrift from the wreck, and in spite of the cries of the wounded upon her decks, by numerous well-directed broadsides sent her to the bottom of the ocean, where dead men tell no tales. After this horrid crime was perpetrated, we set sail upon the "Rover" to the southward to avoid any vessels that might be sent for our capture, as I made up my mind that we should keep well to sea and out of the way of all traffic till search for us had been given up. To this end I steered in a direction out of the track of all known land, till on the 15th September, in the morning, we discovered this unknown island dead ahead, and, finding that it showed no signs of being inhabited, I passed around to the southward and eastward to see if there was a good bay for anchorage, determined to allow the crew to go on shore and have their carouse, if such was the case. We soon opened this bay, where this is written, and, having sent a boat on shore and ascertained that there was good fresh water and evidently no inhabitants, I brought the "Rover" well into the bay and anchored her in six fathoms. This being done, a detail of the crew was made to build this hut for my accommodation. The weather being cool, and thinking that we had found a splendid stronghold for the future, I commanded several goats to be landed, and as my men strolled hither and thither they were instructed to plant a sweet potato once in a while, of which we had plenty on board, and some seeds of the tobacco plant were also planted, I believe, at nearly the other side of the island, near some river. I made up my mind that this should be our rendezvous in the future, for I could not find the island put down upon any chart, and I believed it utterly unknown. I made known my resolves to my subordinates, and they to the crew, which seemed to please them much; and now, having gotten everything in readiness and a watch set aboard the vessel, casks of brandy were hoisted from the hold and landed upon the island. To these were added a large stock of provisions; and an enormous tent was erected of spare sails. Details by lot were made of men to cook, and a watch to keep guard in the vessel, and then for three days all discipline was relaxed, and drunken orgies too fearful to be related commenced, at the end of which a new detail of the most sober was made for the watch on the ship and the cooking, when the same recommenced. During these six days I withdrew with one servant from all this into this hut that I had ordered built, and passed the time as pleasantly as I could, with trips once in a while to the vessel and back. Each day I received the usual report of so many men killed in drunken brawls or so many wounded; but I never moved a finger to stop the affray, feeling that this was the best way to allow them to work off their bad blood and passions. It was, however, on the seventh day that I saw cause for alarm, and, alas! too late. I had noticed that there seemed to be some trouble brewing, and that my second in command, when he came to make his daily report, had not the air of respect that he used to have, and that the reports of serious fights were more frequent than on former carousals of a similar nature. Why, here were some five men killed and seven wounded since we had been on the island, and upon inquiry I found that they were all men whom I knew were devoted to me, if a pirate may use that term. All at once it flashed upon my brain that my second in command was inciting the crew to my downfall and his own elevation. In fact, the matter was made too apparent on that very day; for, after hearing the report, I was sitting at the door of this hut when an unearthly confusion and din commenced at the large tent and the air was filled with the report of pistols (all guns being positively forbidden on shore), and shouts and cries of men in terrible earnest mixed with the screams of the wounded. I buckled on my cutlass and picked up my two pistols, and, calling upon my servant to follow me, made for the tent; but before I arrived there I was met by a retreating body of my men who were making for my hut, crying out, "Treason, treason, treason!" followed by another portion of the crew, at the head of whom was my second in command, all disguise now thrown off, cheering his part of the crew on to my destruction. I gathered about me the retreating men loyal to me, and we faced the rest. The first man who advanced I shot dead, the second also, and the day had almost turned in my favor when, with a well-directed pistol-shot and with a curse mingled with the report, my rival brought me to the ground, the ball having passed through my chest and out at the back. I fell to the ground, and in one instant my prestige of years was gone. When I say gone I mean that it was so far gone that it barely saved my life, for the men still stood quite firm upon my side, when, with the wit and talent worthier of a better cause, my rival moved between the conflicting lines and called for a truce, uttering at the same time the following words: "Now look a-here, shipmates, what is the use of our cutting each other's throats any more? There lies your late captain, still alive to be sure, but good for nothing more. I am bound to be captain of the 'Rover,' and you see I have more men to back me, and a head to them also, than you have. What's the use of our cutting each other's throats when we have some ten or fifteen millions to spend? If you don't like to give in I only admire you the more for it; and if you will join my side and lay down your arms, I promise before you all not to injure one hair on the head of our late captain, but to leave him here on this island without further molestation. Come, that is a fair offer. You have done enough for honor. Do you accept? Why, who have you on your side that can navigate a vessel? Who will give you as much liberty and money as I will? We will live in common, and have no more of this damned supposed superiority. But as for Captain Sutland, dead or alive, he and I can't sail in the same vessel again. I will do all I say, and swear it,"--and amidst the wildest cheers of excitement and drunken enthusiasm, I found myself lying deserted and, as I believed, bleeding to death. After some little hand-shaking and congratulations, however, I was, by order of my rival, carried carefully to this hut, where my wound was examined by the doctor and proclaimed not necessarily mortal. Food and water in profusion, fuel for my fire, and anything that I should naturally require during my convalescence, should it ever take place, was, with the reckless generosity of sailors, piled up near me; and with a few farewells from some who really cared for me, I was left alone, my whole crew, under the command of their new leader, working like beavers to take down their tent, get on board and to sea, and thence to some haven of rest, where they could as quickly as possible squander the wealth so criminally acquired. They had placed me upon my wooden bed, so that I could look out of the open window upon the bay and ship, and see their departure. It was nearly sundown before they had everything ready, and with a heavy heart I heard them at work weighing the anchor, leaving me alone to solitude, my outraged God, and probably death. [Illustration: SHOOTING THE PIRATE CAPTAIN.--PAGE 286.] Lying on my bed of pain, I saw the topsails mastheaded and everything made ready for a start, and as the sun sank to rest in the west, shedding a glow upon the waters, the "Rover" got under way and stood out to the southward and eastward, leaving me upon this desolate island to live or die. I knew what would be the eventual end of their reckless career, for I knew that the pirate who had superseded me, although of great animal courage, had very little education, and that he was wanting in the art of practical navigation. The sun had not been down an hour before the whole heavens changed their appearance, and dark clouds from the southward commenced to overcast the stars. The wind began to moan amongst the trees, and the sea to give forth that solemn sound or breathing that often forbodes a storm. In less than three hours it was blowing heavily from the southeast, the direction the vessel had taken to clear the island, and exactly opposite to the light northwest wind that had in the first part of the evening wafted her off the island's coast. At midnight it was blowing a hurricane, and still I gazed from my bed through the open casement towards the sea. There was not much rain, and what there was did not reach me, my bed being some distance from the window of the hut. At this time, in spite of my misery and the fever of my wound, I, after drinking a draught of water placed beside me, fell asleep, or rather dozed, from which I was awakened by the sound of guns,--yes, great guns. Wounded, feverish, as I was, I moved in my bed to glance into the outer darkness. The tempest was raging with increased fury, and as I looked into the inky blackness seaward, not more than four miles distant as I should judge flashed the discharge from a cannon, and in a moment after, the dull but deadened report met my ear. I kept my eye fixed upon the spot, for I knew that, if it came from anywhere near the same spot again, the "Rover" was on a reef, and that there would be little hope for her. In a few minutes another flash occurred, and I saw that it was in the same situation. Good God, and had your retribution met them then so suddenly? I saw in my mind at once the actual state of affairs as readily as if I had been on board. The "Rover" had stood to the southeast with a fair wind, and all the crew under their new master, being without discipline, had allowed themselves to be caught by the gale from the opposite direction with all sail set, or too much at least; that she had either been taken aback and lost her masts at once, weakened in previous conflicts, or else, before she could be squared away before the blast, been cast on her beam ends, and for safety had had them cut away. After which, unmanageable with a drunken crew and an incompetent master, she had drifted in the trough of the sea, back slowly but gradually towards the anchorage she had just left, until, brought up upon some sunken ledge outside the harbor, she was pounding out her life upon the jagged rocks concealed beneath the water. This was, I felt, the case, and would any be saved to be my companions on this desolate island? I knew that not a living soul would be left to tell the tale. The mighty roar of the wind and the noise of the surf on the beach, with the groaning of the trees, extinguished all hope. No more firing was heard, and nothing but the blackness of night surrounded me, and the cry of the angry blast filled my ears. I became insensible and fell back in my bed without life or motion. When I again opened my eyes, the light of a bright spring morning flashed upon them, and although the wind had gone down, the angry rush of the surf was still to be heard thundering upon the shore; and there, yes there, not far at sea, and plainly beneath my sight, and in full view, lay part of the hull of the once famous "Rover," dismasted, dismantled, and beating her ribs out upon an outer bar or reef. I saw that she could not last long, and that no human being could have survived the preceding night. I should have said that, before the pirates sailed, they had buried the men who had been killed upon the island; but I saw plainly that many bodies would now be swept on shore that would never see Christian or any other burial but that of the white, glistening sands of the beach, and the maws of insatiable sea monsters; whilst I thought even, the vessel was fast breaking up under my eye, each mighty wave, hitting her seaward bulwark, was thrust high into air, passing over and burying her in an ocean of spray and water such as no handiwork of man could long resist. At each succeeding appearance, masses of the hull had disappeared, and it was only a question of time how soon some twelve million of dollars in gold and silver, guarded by a crew of some eighty resolute men when in their senses, who had gone before, would be buried in the ocean forever. I could not take my eyes from the scene, but mechanically felt for my jar of water with one hand, whilst I kept my attention fixed upon the wreck. After looking and dozing for hours, I again fell asleep, and when I awoke it was nearly sundown, and yet the cruel sea was beating over the remains of the hull, which were greatly diminished, and I bethought myself--weak, sick, and feverish as I was--to line the position from my hut before she had wholly disappeared. This I did by moving my head and body slightly till I brought the frame of my southerly window on its southeasterly side to range with a small fir-tree that stood some thirty feet distant, which was in a line with the wreck. I scratched with my thumb-nail a mark upon the window-frame where my eye glanced, and upon the trunk of the tree I picked out a small peculiar branch which aligned upon the wreck. I then, with my right hand, cast some wood that was within my reach upon the fire not far distant, and, over-exerted by all this, fell again into slumber and unconsciousness. It was well into the next day before I regained my senses, and my first glance was for the brig, but not a vestige of her was to be seen, although the ocean was as calm and blue as an inland lake, and nothing but my bearing told me the place where she had gone to pieces. My wound was a very peculiar one. It will be remembered that the ball had passed completely through my body, breaking no bone, and only injuring my left lung above the heart and just under the shoulder blade. I had not lost much blood, and the doctor, when he left me, gave me strong hopes of recovery, if I could lie perfectly still for at least a week. On this morning I found my fever much better and my appetite returning, and my wound much less painful, but stiff. I crawled from my cot with the greatest care, and renewed my fire from the hidden hot ashes, and soon had a good blaze; for it was chilly during the nights, although I had ample bed-clothing of all kinds heaped about me. I remained in bed for three days more, when I mustered courage to leave my cot and stagger to a chair, where I sat down near the fire. I remained here during the day, and at night crept back again to the bed and closed the shutter of my open window (the door and other window had been closed during all my sickness) and dropped to sleep. The next day I was able to move about quite well, and the orifice of my wound in the back had healed, but the front still discharged and was not closed. I was troubled with a hacking cough, but with the exception of this, on the tenth day, could waddle around, and even into the open air, and procure some of the pure spring water near the hut. Thus I went on till the first of October, getting better and better each day, and making rapid progress towards health. The first excursion I made was towards the shores of the bay, but not a sign of my late comrades in crime could I discover. I also carefully cut upon the fir-tree, with my knife, a notch deep and enduring in the trunk, that lined or ranged upon the place where the wreck had last been seen by my eyes, and at the exact height to have the range pierce the water at the very spot, not more than four or five miles distant. After these two first cares, I began to look about me and see what I had to live upon. My arms were left me, as also was a small bottle of ink that I had brought on shore to keep the daily account of the crew, tides, etc., and several sheets of parchment. These, with my pipe, a little tobacco, quite a quantity of ammunition, my cutlass, a tomahawk, and knife, formed my little store. To be sure I had my wooden cot-bed and plenty of bedding, but this was all. I knew that sweet potatoes had been planted upon the island in several places, and that at least three female and one male goat had also been landed; and as I was fast getting tired of my dry bread and salt provisions, I commenced taking small trips upon the seashore, bringing home eggs, fish, oysters, mussels, etc., and thought at one time that my troubles were all over, and that my wound was healed, but as the orifice closed, I commenced to cough more violently than before, and in the morning my throat was filled with phlegm. And as the middle of the month advanced, I became weaker and weaker, and felt that my end was near, or, if not, it was important that I should guard against all accidents, and for that reason I have written this short memoir of my life and placed it here, to stand as a witness for me, in case of accident or death, that my solitude and wound have brought me to a proper state of mind to view my life with utter abhorrence, and to pray to God in my poor miserable way to forgive me, if it be possible to forgive so great a sinner as I. On this, the 20th of October, 1781, I place this jar in its resting-place, having had the hole to receive it long excavated. I am too weak to even get in and out of my bed, and have spread my clothing upon the floor of my hut, where I can move about easier in the night and get at anything I may want. I close this history here, and I ask all good Christians to pray for my soul should God take me away. It will take me days now in my weak state to cover this up so that the weather and water cannot reach it. I feel that my days are numbered. May the finder of my riches make good use of them, and give largely to the poor, and have masses said for the repose of the blood-stained soul of THOMAS SUTLAND. CHAPTER XXV. Finding of the Sunken Wreck. The Submarine Explosion of the Hull. Recovery of over Ten Millions in Bars of Gold and Silver. This, then, was the history of my predecessor; and his legacy consisted of millions of dollars at the bottom of the sea. He no doubt thought that some of it could be recovered, as he said, "with skill and fortitude;" perhaps by anchoring some boat over the reef, and fishing for it, or in some such lame way as that. He had little idea, when he wrote this eighty years ago, that it would be read by a mortal who had invented a submarine boat, and built it from materials drawn from the very bowels of this very island, and who could descend and examine every part of his famous pirate ship. The reading of this history set my impulsive nature to work at once to acquire the lost treasure. But, to do this, I must first find out where it lay,--its exact locality; and I very much feared that time had effaced the marks that aligned upon the spot, and, if so, I might search for it in vain. But what was the use of my regaining it? Inside of my brain I was continually answered, "You will escape! you will escape! and with this treasure, added to your stock of pearls and ownership of the island, with its mineral wealth of coal, iron, saltpetre, and sulphur, you will be the richest man in the world. With these industries once developed, your submarine boats multiplied, and pearl oysters procured by thousands, and your island peopled with contented and happy working people, not even the Rothschilds or Barings will be able to compete with you." Having carefully put aside the manuscript that I had just finished reading, I went on shore to see if I could find any signs of the bearings upon the spot where the "Rover" had formerly gone to pieces. On the window-frame mentioned, I found, although defaced by the weather, a deep cut made in the general direction pointed out, which was no doubt the one referred to; and, encouraged by this, I picked out with my eye several trees of the species referred to in the manuscript, between me and the sea, that I thought might be the one designated; and, having chosen three that seemed likely ones, I went towards them to look for the notch that I ought to find cut in one of their trunks. I found it instantly on the first tree I approached, which had seemed to me the most likely. There it was, plainly marked upon the side of the trunk,--grown over, to be sure, and the tree evidently old and time-worn,--but showing that the wound in its side had been made with deliberation and care, and such as would occur from no natural cause. Being satisfied upon this point, I went back to the hut and placed my eye along the bearings, and found that my sight struck the ocean at some four or five miles distant. This was sufficient for the present; so, getting back to my yacht, I went to bed and to sleep, it being now nearly dusk. In the morning I got under way, and stood out of the bay and rounded Eastern Cape for home, and soon ran up Stillwater Cove, and found everything all right at the Hermitage. I then went to work and made two sheet-iron discs, about three feet in diameter, which I mounted upon iron rods fully fifteen feet in length. I whitewashed one of these with a preparation of lime, and left the other its natural dark color. I then, after caressing, feeding, and attending to my flock of goats and barn-yard fowl, again set out for Mirror Bay, taking these targets with me. Arriving safely, I soon had them on shore, and, after an hour or two of measurements and calculations, had them driven into the ground so as, when in line with each other, to point to the same position on the surface of the ocean, as the old marks were supposed to do, except that they stood clear of all intervening trees or obstructions, and could be seen from the seaward perfectly well. Having these all arranged, I went to work, and, with care and decency, transferred the bones of my predecessor to the hole excavated under the tree, and, reverently placing them within, I said a prayer or two for the repose of his soul, and covered them carefully up. This being done, I made my way back to the Hermitage, and arranged everything about the submarine boat to start early the next day to look for the pirate ship beneath the waves of the ocean. Bright and early I started down Stillwater Cove in the steam yacht, carrying my treadmill team of goats and all necessary things for my trip. At the mouth of the cove I hauled alongside of the submarine boat lying quietly at anchor, and, leaving the "Fairy" and steam yacht, I went on board, rigged the pendant steps, and started my goat-power propeller, and headed out of Perseverance Bay and around Eastern Cape. The day was a beautiful one; so smooth was the ocean that I did not have to descend beneath it, but held on my way with the manhole wide open; and my goats by this time, by repeated trips, had become quite good sailors and did not seem to mind a little swell any more than old salts would have done. My progress in this clumsy boat was not as fast as in the beautiful and graceful steam yacht; and I was seven hours making the neighborhood of where I expected to find the wreck. I stood on till I obtained a good view of my white and black discs. The one nearer the sea being black, I sailed along, in the first place, till I brought the two in line, and then, the white disc appearing above the black one, I commenced sailing in towards the land, still keeping them on a line, till the former gradually sank down, seemingly, behind the face of the latter, when I stopped the boat, fastened down the manhole, and descended. When I arrived near the bottom I let out my buoy line to the surface, and found that I was in nine fathoms of water, and no sign of a reef of any kind, a firm sandy bottom appearing before me. I therefore still pointed the boat by compass towards the shore, and commenced slowly creeping forward. I had not advanced more than a few hundred yards before the abrupt walls of a solid reef met my view. I ran near to it, and then, by pumping, ascended towards the surface, along its face, till I arrived at the top, which I found by my surface lead line to be not quite three fathoms beneath the water. If any reader should ask how I knew how much a fathom was, I would simply say that every sailor becomes used to measuring off fathoms of rope during his sea life, and finally becomes so skilful as to measure fifty and sixty fathoms of line, and not be but a few inches out of the way, by grasping a piece of rope and stretching it at arm's length across the breast, which, with two inches added, in a man of my stature, should be just six feet, or one fathom, and by this measurement as a standard was my floating surface lead line marked, and it agreed substantially with the foot standard that I had made from my thumb joint, as heretofore described. When I arrived at the top of the reef, I knew in a moment that if I had lived on this side of the island I should in some heavy gales have seen the surf break in this spot; for, by calculation of the tide, which was now nearly at high water, this reef must at times be within eight or nine feet of the surface at dead low water; and in gales of wind I could readily believe that the surf would break over it. Having made all these discoveries and calculations, but with no signs of the wreck, I again descended half way down the nearly perpendicular face of the reef towards the smooth bottom at its base. It was a strange formation, rising abruptly from the bottom of the sea, five or six fathoms, like the walls of a citadel. I saw plainly that a vessel could at one moment, by a cast of the lead, get nine fathoms, and in the very next find herself hard and fast upon the reef, if she drew over eighteen feet of water. Holding myself in equilibrio at about half distance from the surface and the bottom, I moved cautiously along the face of this wall to the eastward, looking for my prize. I went nearly a quarter of a mile in this direction without result, and, turning about, I retraced my steps and made to the westward, feeling sure that at the base of this barrier lay the sunken pirate ship, and that she had never probably passed above its surface; for, having nothing else to do, I had already calculated by means of my Epitome what the state of the tide would have been on the evening of the 23d or 24th of September, 1781, at midnight; and, knowing by the pirate's manuscript that it was probably on one of those nights that the "Rover" was lost, and that an error of a day would only make one hour error in the calculation, I was enabled to find out that it was high water on those days at 5 or 6 P. M., and that the vessel must have struck the reef at very nearly, if not quite, dead low water, when it was within a few feet of the surface, and, being bilged, the rising tide would not, even during the storm, lift her one inch, but only hold her upon the jagged edges, whence she must eventually drop to the tranquil waters at the base. I felt confident that this theory was correct, and that I had only to move along this rocky face till I came to the spot where the vessel had finally fallen back to the bottom of the ocean; and such was the case, for as I was thinking out the problem in my own head, lo! and behold! there lay the wreck nearly beneath my feet, not fifty yards distant. I approached it with awe, and held myself suspended in the water above it. I then descended and circumnavigated it in all possible directions, and ended by dropping a grapnel near to it, attached to a good strong line ending in a buoy, which I pushed under the tanks, and allowed to ascend to the surface to mark its position for me in the future. I then set my air-boat at work, and soon had enough new air to fill my exhausted tanks, and to rise to the surface and take off the man-hole cover and look about me. I saw that my discs were a little off, and that the wreck lay a little nearer shore and more to the southward than where they pointed. But they had fulfilled their part; they were henceforward useless. I had found the wreck, and had it buoyed so as to be able to again find it, and should I lose it by the buoy being washed away at any time in a storm, the very variation in the discs from the true direction, now known, would show me where to look. I again descended and commenced examining my prize. She lay upon her side, perfectly free from sand or rocks, and had evidently not moved since she sank back from the rocky summit to her cradle at the base. She was terribly beaten and worm-eaten, and both masts had evidently been cut away, as the pirate captain in his manuscript supposed. Her ribs were exposed, and her decks torn up, and innumerable barnacles and shell-fish had fastened upon her timbers. Still falling back into this comparatively tideless and quiet abyss, she had changed very little, I should think, from the day she sank, over eighty years ago. And as she lay I saw that I had another problem to solve, and that was to get at the riches she contained still confined in her hull as in an immense casket. I saw plainly that I should have to blow open the hull to get at what I wanted and expose it. In the meanwhile I was fascinated with the thousand and one old-fashioned shapes about the hull that struck my eye,--the peculiar long brass eighteen pounders, some of which lay beside her, covered with barnacles, but yet showing their shape and general formation; the blunt bows of what the pirate captain had termed a fast-sailing vessel; the comical anchors, and peculiar formation of the decks, that to me, as a sailor, were very interesting. She looked to me more like Noah's ark than the vessel of a civilized nation. How rapidly and almost imperceptibly had we advanced in this science since this tub was called a vessel, fast, strong, and staunch; and how many hours would she have been able to keep in sight a modern clipper-ship, much less overtake her. In comparison to the latter she seemed like a ship's jolly-boat. And so indeed she was, being about 300 tons, as against the 2,000 and 2,500 tons ship of my day and time. Having satisfied my curiosity and seen that the grapnel to the watch-buoy held all right, I drew in some new air, rose to the surface, and made for Mirror Bay, not over four miles distant. I ran up to the river's mouth near the hut and came to an anchor, and made all snug about the boat, and then, tethering out the goats on the shore, I struck out manfully for home across the island, for I saw plainly that I should have to make Mirror Bay my headquarters for some time to come, and that I must get home and bring together all the powder I possessed, and the steam yacht. I had a pleasant walk home of about four miles without difficulty, as during the last two years I had several times before crossed the island in this direction, but not often. I put everything to rights at the Hermitage, and then with the steam yacht I visited Eastern Cape, East and West Signal, and Penguin Points, and gathered together all the gunpowder placed there beside the cannon mounted at those stations. I added to this stock nearly all I possessed at the Hermitage before starting, and at the end of two days made my way back to Mirror Bay, stopping at South Cape, and getting all the powder there. Arriving at Mirror River, I found my poor goats glad enough to welcome me back. Putting all the powder I possessed together, I should think that there was perhaps fifty pounds in all. This I put carefully by itself in the deserted hut, and, taking the steam yacht, returned to the Hermitage and my workshop. It was busy days with me now, and I scarcely gave myself time to eat and drink. In my workshop I made a thin cylinder of sheet iron that would contain my fifty pounds of powder, but before bolting it together, and making it water and air-tight, I arranged in the interior two flint locks, exactly like the locks to a gun, only larger. My cylinder was in the shape of a large painter's oil can, which it resembled. Out of the mouth of this can came four strings, two of which would cock the locks, attached inside, and two attached to the triggers would fire them off, or rather release the hammer so that the flint would strike upon a steel plate attached to the side of the interior. These were kept free also from the powder with which the can was to be filled, by placing the latter, when to be exploded, upon its side, with the locks uppermost and clear; the capacity of the can being much greater than the amount of powder to be placed within it, at least one third. Having my infernal machine all made, and having experimented with the strings leading out of the mouth, and finding that I could cock one or both locks and fire them by pulling the opposite string, I set sail again for Mirror Bay. I had made my infernal machine with two locks simply that, if one did not explode the charge, the other might. Arriving, I went on shore with it and filled it with the powder there stored, taking good care first to see that the hammers of the two locks in the interior were down upon the steel, and not cocked ready for a discharge. Till they were cocked, the powder was as safe in the can as in any other utensil in which it could be stored. And now, being all ready, I went on board the submarine boat for my final test. I made my way to the wreck, and, descending, was soon balanced opposite the mouth of the main hatch, which was partially open, and large enough to admit ten cans of the size of mine. And now came the dreadful moment in which, under the sea, and far from any helping hand, I must cock these locks within the can, surrounded, as they were, by the powder. It was a supreme moment. I loved my life in spite of its solitude. If anything was wrong in my mechanism, I should in a moment more be blown to atoms, and, if not now, perhaps whilst lowering the machine into the hold of the vessel. I finally mustered up courage to pull upon the string attached to one of the cocks, first placing the can upon its side, and heard it cock inside; but with fear and trembling I slackened the cord that cocked it, and I did not have nerve enough to cock the other, but, forcing in a plug at the orifice, which had already been fitted and had grooves for the four strings, I smeared the whole over with resin that I melted in a lighted candle near me. With a sailor's caution the four strings leading into the can had been nicely coiled upon the tanks ready to pay out of themselves as the can should descend into the hold of the vessel through the open hatchway. Lashed to the outside of the can, I should have said, was a large bar of iron, sufficiently heavy to make it descend in spite of the air it contained. It was with a beating heart that I dropped the whole concern into the water, by a line attached to the middle, and commenced shoving it with my boat hook into the hole in the main hatch where it was to be exploded. During all this time I had the pleasant sensation that if the small cord attached to the trigger should become entangled in any way, and pull with any strain, the charge would be exploded, and I should be blown to atoms. The cold perspiration stood upon my brow, but finally, with a careful but strong push, the can entered the open hatchway and descended quietly to the side of the vessel, where it rested. I immediately cast off from the grapnel that held me near the wreck, and let the submarine boat float away with what little tide there was, paying out, as she drifted, the small line attached to the trigger, a pull upon which, any time during the last fifteen minutes, would have been certain death. As the line began to run out quite freely I began to breathe again; and when several fathoms had run out, so that I knew I was some way distant from the wreck, I began to find relief to my overtaxed brain, and felt that I was again safe, and even as I paid out the small line I thanked God fervently and sincerely. Feeling now sure that I was beyond harm, I commenced to work the pump and to ascend, and at the same time to drift further away, as I did not know what the result of the explosion might be. When I had arrived at as near the surface as the pump would carry me, and felt confident, from the amount of string I had paid out, that I was far enough away to be out of danger, I gathered in all the slack line, and then, with one strong, quick jerk, I proved the practical value of my machine. In one instant the result was conveyed to my ears by a subdued murmur, and the effect by a motion conveyed to the boat as if she had been upon the surface of the ocean instead of beneath it. I was perfectly well aware that, when I pulled the string, the sealed plug in the orifice of the can, through which the string led, would be pulled out, and let in the water; but the same action would also discharge the flint upon the steel inside and cause the explosion at the same instant, before one drop of water could enter, or else I should have fifty pounds of powder wasted. But the muffled roar and the commotion of the water told me that my mechanical ingenuity had not failed me, and that my powder had been exploded if nothing else had been accomplished. I commenced to descend again and make my way towards the wreck, but was met with such a mass of muddy, stirred-up water, that I was glad to throw a grapnel to the bottom, and lie quietly till it had passed by with the slow motion of the tide. When the water had become again clear, I advanced, and, arriving at last over what had been the hull of the wreck, I looked down upon what might have been considered a vast bird's nest, of which the late timbers of the hull formed the twigs, outline, and shape of the nest, inextricably locked together and interlaced, and in the centre of which appeared, in place of enormous eggs, in relative size to the bird's nest, a large, irregular mass of still yellow and shining metal, although in many places tarnished and dim, that seemed in quantity greater than the mind of man had ever conceived. I descended upon this treasure and hooked up bar after bar, which I placed upon my hanging shelves till I could take no more, and, renewing my air with the air-boat, I made my way to Mirror Bay, and landed my precious freight. My next work was to bury my treasure where it would be safe, and for this purpose I excavated a large, square hole in the earth near to the ruined hut. Suffice it to say that after many weary trips, extending through months, I had recovered and buried in safety at least ten millions of money, besides having saved six of the brass eighteen-pounders, and a large quantity of copper spikes and bolts. Whilst at this work I came often upon the skulls and bones of the men who had once manned this pirate craft, mixed in with the _débris_ of the wreck. Whilst I was engaged in this labor I had to make trips to the Hermitage, and look after my flock, and prepare food for myself, and this was by far the busiest year that I had ever yet had on the island. After carefully covering up my treasure I conveyed all the copper bolts and the old eighteen-pounders to my workshop at the Hermitage, on the steam yacht, where they would be extremely useful to me, as heretofore I had had no brass or copper, and I often felt the need of them in my mechanical arts. I also obtained from the wreck a small quantity of lead in different forms, which was also very acceptable. Having gathered all these riches about me, was I happier than before? I often asked myself this question, and was obliged to answer it in the negative. The very acquisition of this enormous wealth made me impatient of restraint, and more and more determined to solve the problem of my escape. I had the knowledge of being the possessor of this immense amount of money, and at the same time the painful conviction that at present it was worth to me no more than the sand on the seashore. CHAPTER XXVI. Chess and backgammon playing. Fortification of the island. Team of white swans. Goats as servants, and opponents in backgammon playing. Yes, here I was, with the wealth of an emperor around me, and not one penny available, in any shape or manner. The acquisition of so much wealth had changed my whole plans; I no longer dared to leave the island, for fear that somebody might discover it during my absence and claim it for their own, and not even allow me to land upon it again, much less become possessed of the immense treasure that I had buried upon it, and which I could only take away by the assistance of others, and they under my own command and discipline. Much as I had bemoaned my fate in being cast on shore, I now feared to leave the island that I had so long hated. The acquisition of riches had brought its usual curse, and from being almost happy and contented I had returned to a state of petulance and nervousness, similar to that which I suffered under during the first two years of my enforced captivity. The time had come when I felt confident that I could leave the island in some way, in safety, and I did not dare to,--did not dare to run the risk of someone's coming to the island during my temporary absence, and remaining upon it. My common sense told me that I had waited years enough, and seen no one, and that no one would come in my absence, whilst my miserly cupidity and unnatural nervousness told me that it would be just my luck to leave it and return and find it occupied, and all my labors lost; for how could I expect to obtain any legal proceedings to help me, or prove my claim, should such happen. I well knew that in these seas justice was little recognized, and that my return and claims would be scoffed at by any who might have replaced me during my absence. I was at last placed in the woeful predicament of seeing myself aching and longing for freedom, and afraid to accept it should it be offered me. In fact, my cupidity overcame my other desires so greatly that I passed my time at this season in improving all my fortifications, and making myself as strong as possible to resist any attack that might be made upon me. I even went so far as to experiment in the direction of torpedoes, to be placed at the mouth of Stillwater Cove, and in Perseverance Bay and Mirror Bay, to be exploded by electricity should I be attacked. I did not, however, consummate this work, but had it strongly in mind. I also, at this time, built a small harbor at the mouth of Stillwater Cove, and enclosed the entrance by old stumps and broken limbs of trees, to conceal it, into which I conveyed the submarine boat and steam yacht, when not in use. The "Fairy" I could easily conceal near the Hermitage,--but then, if an enemy ever got as far as this, it would be impossible for me to conceal the sawmill and foundry, and other works below the falls. I was so frightened at this time of being visited, that I built a battery of four guns, to rake the whole of Stillwater Cove, about half a mile below the Hermitage, and to stop the advance of any enemy in that direction. I well knew that, if it was known what wealth I had accumulated, I should stand little chance of ever enjoying it, unless some man-of-war should discover me. It would be very easy for some trader or whaler to dispose of me, and acquire my wealth, and the world never hear of it. Thousands of tragedies occur in these seas of which the world never hears, as I was well aware. My gold and silver I had buried at Mirror Bay, and my pearls I now buried, with care, in a corner of the Hermitage. At one time I bethought me of making a trip to Easter Island, in my submarine boat, and see if I could not induce the natives, if any, to make me their chief, and if so, to return and, with their aid, build a large vessel, and carry off my treasure to their island, or carry back enough of them to mine to aid me in navigating me to some neutral port, having first fully armed her and taught them seamanship. But if I left the island, I had, in the first place, to run the chance of striking Easter Island, and, having done that, the greater chance of ever again being able to find my own island. This, added to the risk of submarine navigation, which I had before thought over, deterred me. I only seemed to be able to make up my mind to one thing, and that was to protect myself in all possible ways from assault, and to try and study out some way to escape with my treasure in safety. [Illustration: PLAYING BACKGAMMON WITH THE GOAT.--PAGE 313.] After some months of this worry, I commenced to return to myself again in a measure, and, having no work of any magnitude on hand, I amused myself in many ways to change the monotony of my existence. Amongst other things that I invented for my amusement were a nice chess-board and men. I had been fond of the game for many years, and I used in the evening to pit myself against an imaginary opponent and set to work. I always played strictly according to rule, and never took a move back or allowed my adversary to do so; and it was amusing to see how hard I tried to beat my other self. I wiled away many weary evening hours in this way, and also with a pack of parchment cards, with which I played solitaire, to my heart's content. But my greatest game, and one in which I took the most interest, was backgammon, which I played with my pet goat. I had here to move for both the goat and myself; but the excitement consisted in the fact of my making him take the dice-box in his mouth and shake out his own dice, so that I really played against somebody in part. I increased this excitement by pitting one goat against the other and making each throw the dice, when I would make the move and reward the winner by a little morsel of sugar, or something of which he was fond. I also managed to make myself quite a serviceable flute, upon which I performed by ear all the old tunes I could remember; and, to preserve them, I marked the notes in a rough style on parchment; but, only knowing their names as A, B, C, etc., I simply marked down these letters to denote any tune, heading it with the name, as "Yankee Doodle," _a_, _a_, _b_, _c_, _a_, _a_ _g#_, _e_,--_a_, _a_, _b_, _c_, _a_, _g#_. I did not know enough about music to keep any other record, but by this method I felt that I could preserve the tunes that I now knew, so as to enjoy them in my old age, if God willed it that I should never escape from this cursed island. At this time I did not know what it was to want for anything: each year my harvests had been greater and greater, and I now enjoyed both apples and pears in great abundance. With saltpetre and salt, and my smoking-house, I was able to preserve all the meat of all kinds that I desired, and my larder and ice-house was overstocked instead of understocked, and I had everything that heart could desire; and yet, since my successful attempt at both the pearl fishery and the sunken treasure, I had been unhappy and discontented. Up to this time I had scarcely seen an hour's sickness since being upon the island. It was wonderful how good God had been to me; but the delightful climate, and my out-door life and pure water and good wholesome food, had all tended to sustain me; but, with my inventive mind, I did not intend to be caught napping, even in this respect, so to work I went to educate my goats as servants, in case I should be seriously ill. I taught one, after repeated attempts and great attention, to take a little pail that I had made for him, and, at my command, go to the river and fill it with water, and bring it to me at my bedside. After months of teaching, this goat would at last do this duty as well as the best trained servant, and finally I taught him so perfectly that I could get into my bed, touch a little bell that I had made, one tap, when he would immediately look about for his little pail, in whatever part of the Hermitage it might be, and, finding it, march off to the river, fill it with water, and bring it back, and place it always in just the same spot, upon the low sideboard or table, beside my bed. The other pet I taught to bring me a small bag of flour that was kept for that purpose. As I have before said, on a shelf near the bed I had already placed a lamp, spare oil, matches, flint and steel, and all the simple remedies that I had, with candles and a sort of night lamp that I had constructed, with kettle and basin attached. I did not know how soon I might be attacked at any moment with fever and delirium, and I was determined to do all possible beforehand, so as to be able to help myself in my days of necessity; hence my teaching, so that, when too weak to move, I might rely upon my pet goats for good, pure, fresh water and a little food fit for gruel. This teaching was an amusement for me, and not a task; and it was amazing how intelligent these animals became, and how fond I was of them and they of me. I had noticed that there were upon Mirror Lake, when I had visited it upon several occasions, some magnificent swans, and, having nothing better in my head to do, I made up my mind to capture some of them to transplant to the Hermitage. I made many futile attempts before I could fix upon a plan to secure any of them. I could at times have shot some of them, for they were not very wild, but that was not what I wanted. Finally, after studying their habits, I ascertained exactly where they nestled on shore at night to roost, which was near some stunted trees on the westerly side of the lake. I made myself a large net of strong grass twine and rawhide, nearly forty feet square, with the meshes at least a foot apart, so that the work was not a very hard or laborious one. Armed with this in the daytime, whilst the swans were away, either in the centre of the lake or elsewhere, I visited their resting-place, and attached it to the trees and different uprights, and arranged it so that it could be drawn down and over them at one pull by a cord which I led out into the lake a long distance and buoyed there. Having arranged all my apparatus to suit me, I left it alone for at least a month, not even going near it; when one fine moonlight night I started early, before sundown, across the island to the lake. Hiding myself in the long grass and trees on the border, I saw my friends the swans, about eighteen in number, take their way for their usual roosting-place, and as the light shut down I stripped off my clothing and swam out boldly for the buoy in the lake, which was not over two hundred yards distant from me, but at least four hundred from them. Arriving at it, I grasped the line and gave one tremendous pull with all my strength, and such a flapping of wings and squalling was never heard. All the fowl in the vicinity--and there were large numbers--got on the wing and commenced making night hideous. I hastened ashore, and, slipping on a few clothes, made my way at a run to the place where the net had been sprung. It was as I expected; several of the swans had become entangled, and, having thrust their heads through the large meshes, were endeavoring to make their enormous bodies follow through the same hole, at the same time foolishly threshing about with their wings and trying to fly. It was well that my net was mostly of rawhide, for I found the creatures terribly strong and fierce, but after a fight of over two hours I was in possession of six fine large swans, as beautiful creatures as could well be imagined. All of these I bound with rawhide, with their wings to their sides, and small lashings around their bills, for I found that they could attack with them quite fiercely. After having carefully bound them so that they could not escape, and for further protection drawn the net about them, I made my way home, leaving them where they lay for the night. The next morning early I appeared on the scene with the canoe, having come around in the steam yacht to the river, which I had ascended as far as practicable, and then taken to the canoe. I soon had my splendid great fellows all in the boat, and thence into the steam yacht in a very short time, when I proceeded leisurely home by the Western Cape, as I wanted to see how that part of my island looked. I saw nothing strange or novel, except the penguins on Penguin Point, who were drawn up as usual in martial array, and I could not help wishing that I had a few brave and devoted sailors with me at this time. How soon we would make the forests of this island echo with the stroke of our axes, and how soon would a strong, staunch vessel arise from the stocks at Rapid River; one that could stand the weather well enough to make the trip with ease to Valparaiso or the Sandwich Islands, or some other civilized place. Arriving home, I made some arrangements for my new guests, and riveted upon one leg of each a long rawhide rope, which was made fast to a stake on the border of the river. For the first few days there was a great deal of fluttering, sputtering, and squalling, but, being careful not to feed them all this time, I soon brought them to subjection, and in less than a month's time they would eat out of my hand. I then went to work and made a long, light whip, with which I educated them each day for two more months. In the intervals, I was at work in the workshop, and turned out two cylinders, shaped like cigars, about eight feet long and one foot in diameter, made of rolled iron little thicker than common sheet-iron. Upon these, placed distant from each other about six feet, I fitted a nice little deck and an easy, comfortable chair. Having this all completed and arranged, I launched it in Stillwater Cove, and brought it over near the Hermitage. I then made a broad piece of skin that would slip over the head of each swan and rest against the breast, to which was attached a small cord. Putting one of these yokes upon each of my swans, I drove them down to where the boat or car was resting; for I had trained them so that they would obey the whip just as well if not better than a yoke of oxen. Having arrived at the car, I attached them by yokes of two to a central rope attached to the car, and, cracking my whip, set off on a tour of pleasure down Stillwater Cove. Did ever man drive such a car and team before? and yet it was by just such artifices as these that I kept myself from going mad and gave myself excitement and pleasure. No one knows, till they have tried, how easily the birds of the earth are taught. I had often seen a Chinaman make the cormorant fish for him all day long, and make his body of ducks that he was watching as obedient as so many dogs. I knew that my team of swans was of no practical use to me, but it was a pleasure, and that was sufficient. They certainly made a magnificent sight, moving over the quiet, pure waters of Stillwater Cove, and I could not help thinking that, if I should be discovered now, I should be taken for Neptune or some merman of the ocean disporting himself with his favorite team. Having taken a good long ride, I, with a snap of my whip, turned my team about and made towards home. Home! yes, that was the word; it had really become home, and more so than ever since I had become so rich. I could not make up my mind to try and solve the problem which, if solved, would separate me from my island and my riches, and yet I could not go on in this way; I must make up my mind, and that quickly; I must do something; I must choose. If I feared to trust my submarine boat, I could make a catamaran on a large scale, almost exactly on the same plan as the car I was now seated upon, which could not capsize or sink; a life raft, or, better yet, I could construct a boat wholly of iron, with water-tight compartments; but who was to steer whilst I slept,--my goat?--and who was to take care of my island during my absence and keep it safe from all inquisitive eyes? I suppose I should have, perhaps, used up years thinking of this matter, if my attention had not been drawn to other affairs almost as startling as any that had yet befallen me, making me almost believe that I was to be driven crazy by accumulation of wealth which I was not to be allowed ever to enjoy or spend. It occurred to me to make a gunning expedition to Mirror Lake, to obtain some of the wild ducks that were so plenty there. And having now a little lead, I was able to make shot, with which I was more successful than with the steel bullets. With this intention I went to Mirror River in the steam yacht, prepared to stop for a few days and enjoy the sport, and what happened me there I will go on to relate. CHAPTER XXVII. Discovery of gold. Turn the stream out of the lake, and build portable engine to separate the gold. I started with the canoe to the mouth of Stillwater Cove, having first attended to my numerous flocks, and put on board two of my best guns, with some lead bullets and shot, and provisions for some time, and also carrying with me my two inseparable friends, the pet goats. When I arrived, at the mouth of the cove, I entered the concealed harbor, and got out the steam yacht and commenced putting her in order. I soon had a fire built under the boilers, and in an hour's time was all ready to set out. Leaving the canoe behind me, I pushed out of the cove into Perseverance Bay, and made my way to the west about for Mirror Bay. I arrived safely and in good season, and landed to examine my treasure-ground, and found the grass growing over it nicely, and it seemed well concealed. Going on board again, I pointed the yacht up the river towards the lake. I had heretofore always stopped before reaching the latter, for fear of striking the bottom on account of shoal water, but I now made up my mind to proceed in a cautious manner into the lake itself, if possible. I thought that there was water enough if I could keep clear of any boulders or rocks that might possibly be concealed beneath the water. The yacht did not draw over three feet, and I felt confident that she could carry that draft to the lake if she could be kept clear from any unknown obstructions. So I steamed along very carefully and slowly, and often left the helm to rush forward and look over the bows, and, oftener yet, stopped the boat completely and examined ahead before proceeding. In this manner I advanced towards the lake slowly but surely, taking land marks as I went on to enable me to return without injuring my craft by running her upon any submerged danger. At last the lake opened before me, and with a few careful turns of the propeller, I soon floated upon its surface safe and sound. The moment the yacht came in sight, numbers of swans and other fowl commenced to rise from different parts of the lake, and take their departure to more quiet and distant places. I knew, however, that I had not disturbed them greatly, and that they would return during the day, flock after flock. I kept on across the lake to the mouth of a little brook pouring into it, not over fifteen feet wide, and, entering this, I ran on for about a hundred yards, till the water commenced to shoal and to be filled with numerous rocks. Here I moored the yacht carefully to the bank and went on shore. I had no occasion to build any fire or erect any habitation. The steam yacht served me for home, kitchen, bedroom, and parlor, and I had on board of her everything that possibly could be asked for. Tethering out my two pet goats, I took with me two of my guns and quite a lot of ammunition, and the small landing skiff, and made my way back again to the lake. I carried with me also some twelve or fifteen nice decoy ducks, that I had made of wood and dyed with black and red colors, similar to the ducks that frequented the lake. These I anchored at an easy gunshot from the shore, and then, landing, took out my guns and ammunition, which I carefully placed on the sand, and, shouldering the boat, carried it into the bushes near by and concealed it carefully. I then went to work with a hatchet and cut down some of the small cedar and fir trees with which the back part of the shore of sand was lined, and soon had them driven into the sand near the edge of the water, and converted into a blind, from which I could shoot into the flocks of ducks and geese that might come to my decoys without being seen by them. Even whilst I was at work, several flocks were almost willing to alight, hovering over my decoys, but finally departing as they saw me at work. When I had everything to suit me, I retired into my blind and waited for a chance for a good shot. I used to shoot well with a percussion gun in younger days, but I had too little lead now, and too little practice, to try and kill these birds on the wing with a flint-lock gun, and my only chance was to wait till a whole flock settled down, when I intended, by a discharge of one gun whilst they were in the water, and another as they arose, to get as many as possible; and that it may not be thought that I must have had a great stomach for ducks, I would say that I intended to pick and preserve these birds in saltpetre and salt, to use during the winter seasons, and to make of their feathers a nice soft mattress. I had not long to wait before a small flock settled to my decoys, and, after sailing about a little, became disgusted and made off before I could fire. But after them came a larger lot that settled boldly down, and as I had found out that they would not long remain ignorant of the cheats that had enticed them, I let drive at once into their midst with one gun, and gave them the other as they rose to fly away. As the result of my fire, I counted eleven large ducks dead upon the water and three badly wounded, which I soon despatched by hastening to the shore with my light landing boat and killing them with a boat-hook, and, picking up my dead, brought onto the shore fourteen nice fat ducks. I then drew up my boat and waited for more shots, but the discharge had made the others somewhat wary; but finally my patience was rewarded with two other good shots during the day, in which I bagged three geese and seven more ducks. With this game I made my way back to the yacht, highly pleased with my day's sport. I had noticed, both to-day and in my former trips to the lake, that the species of duck that I had shot were divers, and seemed to get their food by seeking at the bottom of the lake for it, and particularly at this place where the spring water poured into it from this brook or inlet, which evidently arose in a mountain back of me, and, fed by springs, enlarged so as to pour into the lake quite a volume of pure water. As I had to name everything upon the island, I called this brook Singing Water Brook, on account of the low musical murmur that was wafted to my ears from the miniature falls and rocks over which it bounded, gurgled, and found its way, further in the interior, where, from the sound, it evidently was more rapid in its descent from higher ground, but distant enough not to be noisy, but musical, in its progress towards the lake. I first went to work and picked my whole twenty-one ducks and the three geese, carefully saving all the feathers. I then proceeded to open them preparatory to salting them away in casks which were on board of the yacht, that I had brought for that purpose. I had opened and dressed, I should think, some five or six, when I became curious to know what food they fed upon, and to know if it was to obtain it that they kept diving below the surface. To settle this problem I grasped with my left hand the gizzard of the duck that I had just dressed, and, observing that it was well inflated, I drew my knife across it to expose its contents. It seemed to contain the usual amount of sand and gravel, and a sort of semi-digested food that I was unable to determine as to whether it was fish, flesh, fowl, or good red herring. As I was picking the mass to pieces with my hands, I laid open to view quite a large pebble, fully as large as a pea, that was as yellow as gold. I pounced upon it, for I had seen too much virgin gold in California and Australia not to know it. I had it not one moment in my hand before my sight and its weight convinced me that it was indeed, in verity, a pure golden nugget. Could it be possible? I had heard before of gold being taken from the crops of chickens bought in Siam and on the coasts of Africa, but I never before had credited the stories; but here before my eyes, in all its unmistakable purity, lay a piece of virgin gold. Then it was this that my ducks were gathering with their other food, mistaking it probably for some kind of grain. To work, therefore, I went upon all of the gizzards of my slain, and my search was rewarded by the finding of seven pieces more, two much larger than the first specimen obtained, fully as large as beans, and the others much smaller. When I had buried my treasure, I had kept out, to have on hand at the Hermitage, several of the ingots of gold and two or three of the bars of silver; why, I do not know, but it was human to have a little amount of gold and silver near at hand,--for what I cannot say; but it was natural, and probably arose from former education and habit. I was not yet perfectly content with the evidences of my senses or the malleability of the metal before me, which I tested by beating one of the pieces with a hammer; but before I would wholly give myself up to the belief that my discovery was really gold, I intended to make a certain and positive test. Stories ran through my head of vessels in olden times, which made voyages to the East Indies, returning home with what they considered gold ore in ballast, which only turned out upon arrival to be simply mica or silica. Whalers also, as I had heard, had given up whole voyages and filled their casks in different parts of the world with worthless earth, thinking that they had become possessed of the wealth of the universe. I was not to be deceived in this manner. I determined, as I have said, to make a final and complete test before I gave myself up to the excitement that would undoubtedly attend my magnificent discovery, if true. For this purpose I left all my ducks and geese, except two for cooking purposes, and made my way as rapidly as possible back to the steam yacht, and, although it was nearly sunset, got under way and started back to the Hermitage with my precious pebbles or nuggets with me. I arrived safely by the aid of a magnificent moon, and ran into Stillwater Cove and up to the Hermitage, when I moored the yacht and went on shore and into my bed; but a restless night I made of it, and early morning saw me at work in the foundry at my proposed test. In the first place I went to work and made a nice pair of balances of steel, with little pans on each side to contain the substance to be weighed. I then went to work and made a mould of iron, by boring out a small oval hole with my steel drills in the face of two pieces of steel, which I hinged together exactly like a bullet mould, only much smaller. After having everything arranged I set to work and smelted a portion of one of my golden ingots, and whilst in this fused state I moulded several golden bullets in my mould, some ten or twelve in number. I then put the remainder of the gold away, cleaned out the crucible perfectly, and put my nuggets in it and smelted them, and with them made also eleven impressions of my mould in the shape of bullets. I kept these far from the others, so as not to get things mixed. I then placed one of the true bullets of gold in one pan of the balance, and added small clippings of iron in the other pan, till it was exactly balanced. I then took it out and replaced it by one of the bullets made from the metal I had found. The problem was solved,--they were exactly of a weight, or, rather, so nearly so that a minute atom of iron dust added to the pan preserved the balance, for my metal bullet, proved by the very slightest degree to be the heavier. Yes, this was gold,--gold beyond peradventure; but, to satisfy my mind, I weighed and weighed them by one and by twos, and by fours and by fives; always with the same result, scarcely a hair's breadth between them. Practically, they were exact. I knew that no other metal could approach gold in weight so as to deceive me beyond this test. I was living on an island that was a vast gold mine, or at least contained it in large quantities; for it would be impossible for me to have found seven nuggets in a few ducks unless the bottom of the lake was strewed with them at or near the mouth of Singing Water Brook, which must have poured them into the lake for ages, carrying them along from their first resting-place, the mountain, to the westward from which it took its rise. Convinced that my discovery was real and true, I gave myself up to all manner of day dreams, and it was a week before I made up my mind to return to the lake and explore further. At times I gave up the idea of gathering any of this gold that I now knew lay at the bottom of the lake, and at others the desire to be possessed of it all swayed me also. But, finally, dreaming gave way to my natural temperament, and I made all preparations possible to secure my prize. Should I pen in a portion of the lake opposite the mouth of Singing Water Brook, turn the latter aside, lay bare the bottom of the lake and sift and examine the sand? Alas, this would take great time and pains, and I was afraid also that the water would be forced back, after I had pumped it out, though the sand of which the bottom was formed. Should I lower the outlet of the lake so as to draw off the water in a degree? This was not very feasible, as it was already quite deep, and it would take great time and application to deepen it enough to draw off the water of the lake to any extent. No, I had another plan than this, which I finally decided upon, and that was to use the submarine boat. Having fixed upon the means, I hastened to put them into execution. I made all my preparations, and, taking the submarine boat in tow of the steam yacht, made my way back to Mirror Lake. I had some trouble in getting the former into the lake, but finally succeeded after considerable labor. I had provided myself with some utensils, to pan out the sand with, and also a rocker, that I had built to be placed on shore, and worked by a belt from a driving-wheel of the steam engine of the yacht, which I had attached to it for that purpose only, intending to use it by anchoring the yacht, disconnecting the propeller gear, and leading the belt from the rocker on shore to the engine room of the yacht, and thence to the driving-wheel attached. Let it suffice to say here that during my long stay at Mirror Lake I made weekly trips to the Hermitage and attended to my flocks, but gave up all idea of making butter, and only brought a few of my female goats to this side to give me milk. Having gotten the submarine boat into the lake, I made a descent in it and examined the bottom. It was almost wholly of pure sand. The water varied from a depth of a few feet near the margin to about three fathoms near the centre. I saw several kinds of fish but none of large size. Having made this examination, I commenced upon the work before me of finding the gold. I went quite near to the mouth of Singing Water Brook, and descended and filled the tops of the tanks with sand from the bottom, failing to find any nuggets with the eye; but I afterwards found several in different trips, but never many or of very large size. Having loaded the boat, I arose to the surface, and beached her near the mouth of the brook, and landed my sand in baskets upon the shore. I then went to work with the pan and washed it in the mouth of the brook, and as the result of this one trip gathered together more gold-dust and small nuggets than I could hold in one hand. This was placer mining with a vengeance, the cream of all mining while it lasts. But I felt that I was going back-handed to work; so the next day, instead of coming on shore with my sand, I took the pan into the submarine boat, and as I pulled it up with a sort of long-handled shovel, washed it then and there in the water of the lake inside the submarine boat; but this again was, during a long day, tiring to my brain, as I had to keep renewing the air by rowing the boat ashore, for it was too shallow to use the air-boat, and I had long ago given up the idea of using the spray-wheel except in case of actual necessity, the air-boat superseding it. Here I was in the ninth year of my captivity, working hard in my own gold-field. I worked nearly six months of this year, at all spare moments, in this manner, occasionally shovelling sand into the rocker on shore, which I procured from the edges of the lake near the mouth of the brook, just under water, and extracting the gold-dust by means of a belt from the steam yacht. I was quite successful with this method also, but the largest quantity of the dust had evidently been for ages swept into the lake opposite the mouth of Singing Water Brook. I also ascended the brook several times during these months, till it led me to a mountain of some eminence, where it ended in little branches that tumbled down its side. I got "signs" of gold often,--in fact almost always at the eddies of this brook, and even in its branches,--but never in as large quantities as in the sand at the mouth, although I obtained one very large nugget in the sands of a quiet pool fully half a mile from the lake. I also ascertained that the mountain was composed mostly of quartz,--which miners term the mother of gold,--and all the little pebbles that I picked up in the running brooks were of this description, several of them being prettily marked with little veins of gold. There was no doubt whence the gold came; it had been pouring down from this mountain side in these small trickling streams for centuries, veining the pieces of quartz that contained it till the latter, by friction and water, deposited itself in the shape of sand, and the released gold as dust or nuggets, at the mouth of the brook, having been, perhaps, centuries making the descent from the mountain side to the lake, a distance perhaps of one mile. I knew perfectly well that the mountain contained the inexhaustible mine from which this precious dust escaped, but I also knew that without quicksilver it was beyond my reach to gather it. For in quartz-mining I should need iron stamps, fuel, steam-engine, amalgamator, rocking-table, etc., all of which I could supply, perhaps, except the quicksilver; but this troubled me very little, for I knew that there was more gold at the mouth of the lake than I could gather in perhaps a lifetime, unless I could invent some way to come at it more convenient than the ways that I was now employing. I had often, at the end of a day's work, at this time, nearly as much gold-dust as I could hold in my two hands, much more than one handful, and in value, of which I could only guess, at least $200 to $250. After getting quite a quantity together,--say a week's work,--I used to transport it to the Hermitage, take it to the workshop, smelt it, and preserve the button by burying it within the enclosure of the Hermitage. I had at the end of some six months become greedy and was not satisfied with my daily gains, but longed to extend my operations. During these months I had not been idle, but had studied upon the problem of how to get at the bottom of the lake. I was thinking about this one day, when nearly half-way between the lake and the mountain side, passing the brook once in a while and looking into its waters for quartz-pebbles marked with gold. At once it struck me, why not turn the brook from the lake towards the sea, in a new direction. I struck my head with my fist to think what a fool I had been for so many months; why, here, even where I stood, was a natural valley on my left, that would convey the water to the sea. I dashed down my pan and worked my way seaward. Why here was even a little mountain brook already tending in that direction, and, following it about two miles, I saw it pierce the sand of the seaside, at least two feet wide, and discharge its tiny current into the ocean. I was crazy with excitement. I dashed back again to the point where I had left my pan, and, picking it up, made for the lake. When I arrived, I went to the inlet and examined it. I felt that I had the whole matter under my thumb, and without much labor, too; for if I should turn the direction of Singing Water Brook so that it would not pour into Mirror Lake, the latter at its outlet would be exactly as low as the bottom, over which a rapid current was now flowing, but which would, by this process, be in one sense brought to the surface; and, as it appeared, I could work upon it, and cut it down, and as I cut it down so would the lake be drawn off, till, if cut little by little, a passage-way which I could timber up to the depth of eighteen feet, all the water of the lake would be drawn off, and the whole bottom exposed to my view, and the golden accumulation of untold ages beneath my feet to pick and choose from. It was feasible, fool that I was, not to have thought of it before. The very next day, armed with axes, tools, and shovels, which I had to make two trips to convey, I found myself at the place on the brook where the natural valley leading towards the sea seemed to meet it, and where a little further on to the seaward I had found the miniature brook, trickling its way to the southward. At the point that I commenced work the brook was not over ten or twelve feet wide, rapid to be sure, but with not a very great descent just at this point. I commenced in the first place by cutting and opening on its southerly bank, towards the sea and into the valley. I did not cut the bank away so as to let the water in yet to its new channel, but worked a little distance from it. For two whole weeks I dug at this, making a good bed for the brook to rush into in its new passage that I intended to give it to the sea. Having this to suit me, I commenced cutting down trees to fall across the brook as it now ran, and these I filled in with pebbles and stones. It was hard work, but at the end of three weeks I had made such a dam across the original brook that I opened the passage for the water into the new one, and kept on strengthening the former till all the water in a day or two bounded down its new course to the sea as if it had always run in that direction. I restrained my curiosity, however, to look for gold in the now dried up bed of the brook, but felled more trees, and put in more stones, and banked up with more earth, till I felt convinced that even in a storm the brook would no longer seek an outlet in the direction of the lake over such a barrier, and with the bed of its new course so well dug out by itself even now, helped as it had been by my labor of two weeks, before allowing it to seek it. Finally I felt my work complete, and, breaking up my camp that I had so long made in the woods, I went back to the lake, looking once in a while into the now empty brook. I should have said that of course, before I undertook this work, I had taken the yacht and submarine boat out of the way,--the submarine boat to its old resting-place at Still Water Cove, and the yacht at anchor in Mirror Bay near the shore. I had been living a hard, rude life in the woods, and had only come out once to go to the Hermitage for food and to attend to my flocks; and I hurried down now to look at the lake, which I knew would be lowered to exactly the former depth of the water at the outlet, some four or five feet. As I came in view of it I saw at once the effects of my work; it looked already woefully shrunken and belittled, but I did not stop to look at it, or for nuggets either. I felt convinced that I had passed many in the bed of the deserted brook, but at present I was intent upon my work of changing the face of nature. In two trips I had all my traps and tools conveyed to the outlet, and it was here that I established my new camp. I had to go to the saw-mill and get some plank, and by the aid of the goats and wagon finally, after bringing them around in the yacht, got them to the outlet where I needed them. I commenced digging in its bed, and the water soon began to pour out, as I did not have to dig a great distance, as the decline was quite sharp. I found that I should not need my boards till I had gotten considerably down, if even then, for my work consisted only in shovelling the bed of the late stream out upon each side and in making a channel lower than the water still remaining in the lake. Suffice it to say that in three months I had the lake drawn off, so as to expose a very large margin of the late bottom. It would take too long to relate how I travelled over these exposed sands and the deserted bed of Singing Water Brook; it will be sufficient to say that my findings were immense, and in the bed of the brook I found several nuggets in what had before been eddies, weighing as high as two or three pounds, as near as I could judge. I soon, however, got tired of tramping over the sand to try and find nuggets by the eye, and arranged to go to work in a more thorough and satisfactory manner. To do this, I left my gold-fields for several months, and went to work at my forge to turn out a portable steam-engine, with a rocker or sand-washer attached. When this was finished I took it, in pieces, to the bed of the lake and erected it on wheels. It was arranged with sections of pipe and hose so as to be placed near the sand that was to be washed, and the water pumped for that purpose from that still remaining in the lake, and which I had left for this very purpose, intending to draw it off and expose more bottom by opening the outlet whenever I should have been over the sands now exposed to view. It was well also that I should have had to make this engine, for the fishes contained in the lake had commenced to die, and the air was impregnated with their effluvia, and the surface was covered with their dead bodies. When I got to work with my rocker and engine it seemed as if the sands were inexhaustible. I often gathered, as far as I could judge, in one day's work, the sum of at least $500, and some days I must have gathered hard upon $1,000, not to mention the nuggets large enough to pick up with my hand, that I was continually coming upon. But at last I got absolutely tired of gathering this golden harvest, and abandoned it for other occupations, having already more than I knew what to do with, and of not one dollar's value to me unless I could escape or be rescued. After my fierce excitement was over in this direction, I returned to the old problem of escape. CHAPTER XXVIII. The sea serpent. Attack and capture one of the species, thus putting the question of its existence forever at rest. It was in my tenth year of captivity that the following adventure occurred to me, which is of such importance to the scientific world, and settles forever such a disputed question, that I cannot forbear to relate it here in the interest of science, and to set at rest all doubts upon this subject forever. I had started upon one of my trips to the pearl oyster reef in the submarine boat, to obtain some of those bivalves, to convey to the shore for examination. The day was beautiful, and the sky clear and almost without a cloud, with a light air moving from the northwest. I was standing out toward the reef from Perseverance Bay with the manhole open, and all goat power on, when all at once, as I was gazing about the horizon, I saw to leeward of me and off the eastern end of the island, a strange commotion in the regular waves of the ocean. Some animal or fish was evidently splashing the water about into the air in huge quantities. At one time it looked as if the disturbance was caused by porpoises disporting themselves in their native element, and following their leader, in a long string; but I soon saw this was not the case. At another moment it seemed as if a whole fleet of empty barrels had been suddenly left bobbing about in mid-ocean, and then again as if detached quantities of dry seaweed had been floated seaward by the tide, and showed itself as it rose and fell upon the summits of different waves. Whilst the object was taking all these different shapes to my gazing eyes, I was steadily approaching it, having changed the course of the boat, and as I advanced I found that it also was coming towards me, and when within perhaps one half mile, the creature (for it proved to be an animal), suddenly raised its head at least twenty feet above the waves of the ocean, and looked about him in every direction. At once the truth flashed upon me. Here was in verity the sea serpent of which so much has been written and so much doubted. There was no deception; all was too plain before me to deceive a child: but, to prove the matter beyond doubt, I stopped the boat and waited for his near approach. He happened to be heading so that he would naturally pass very near to me, and I got ready to clap down the manhole and descend into the ocean if he made any attack upon me. Just as he was coming along finely towards me, he suddenly plunged beneath the surface and was lost to view. Here was a pretty ending to all my desires to observe him. He had not as yet come near enough for me to describe him, so as to be believed. What should I do? I hated to lose him in this manner, and I felt confident that he had sounded, not on account of perceiving my boat, which he could have scarcely noticed, but, because he was at that moment in the humor or was feeding. Whilst I was uttering useless regrets at having lost him, and making up my mind whether or not to descend myself and try to find him, I was disturbed by a loud splash astern of where I was looking, and, facing about, I looked into the eyes of the horrible creature, not forty yards distant from me. He did not, however, seem to notice me in the least, but to clap down the manhole cover and descend was with me the work of a moment, for I knew too little of his habits to trust him. I have perhaps before in this narrative stated that, when beneath the surface of the water, all fishes and animals seemed not to take the slightest notice of me; either taking my boat for a submarine rock, or else for a creature like themselves; why it was so, I, of course, cannot say, but that such was the fact I can aver. I had often put my hand down into the water upon the back of quite large fish, when beneath the surface, and it was not till they were touched that they seemed to know that anything out of the ordinary was happening. I had been fully as near the sea serpent as I desired, and descended for safety; his horrible eyes and face haunting me as I fell slowly towards the bottom. Having arrived to within ten or twelve feet, I checked the boat, intending to wait a reasonable time for his lordship to depart, and then to rise to the surface and go on my way rejoicing that he had not injured me; but I had not remained more than five minutes in my position before I saw a sight that frightened me more than meeting this creature on the surface; for, glancing about towards the bottom, my eyes fell upon the serpent making his descent from above, and moving along slowly on the bottom, evidently seeking for his prey. His horrible head passed within at least ten feet of the boat, of which he seemed to take not the slightest notice. As it passed from my view it was followed by the body, at least one hundred feet in length, and as large around as a common-sized flour barrel. I was too startled to move, but kept the boat quietly in position till the whole body passed slowly out of sight. As the tail went by me, my first impulse was to get out of the way, and ascend to the surface, and start for home; my next was to remain where I was and see what would happen. Sitting down, I thought the whole matter over. My solitary existence had given me an inordinate appetite for excitement. I wanted something to stir my stagnant blood, something to call into action all my physical and mental powers. You who have never been cut off from the rest of mankind cannot credit this thirst for something new, something moving, something strange. The daily conversation, the crowded streets, the incidents of life, feed this desire and keep it satisfied; but when there is nothing of this kind, the mind and body both ache to fill the void produced. Add to this such a temperament as mine, and it can be understood that, just saved from an attack from this unknown monster, I determined to attack him, and, if possible, capture him. I don't know why I should have brought myself to this conclusion, or why I should risk my life, but such is man. From a state of fear I entered into one of fierce excitement, and made every preparation to attack the danger I had just escaped. I had always with me in the boat, two strong, sharp harpoons with long, seasoned, wooden staffs, in complete order, and also a lance and knife. To the harpoons was attached a raw-hide rope, some fifty fathoms in length, and with this I made up my mind to strike the serpent if I could get the chance. To the end of the raw-hide rope, I attached a wooden buoy, and, thus armed, I started the goats, and headed the boat in the direction the monster had taken but a few moments before, and in such a leisurely manner. I had not gone far before I saw the end of his tail coming in view, as he lay stretched upon the sandy bottom. I lowered the boat till I floated about eight feet above the hidden form, and, plucking up my courage, steered forward over him, with his huge body for a guide. As I arrived near his head I stopped the goats, and let the boat drift, the tide luckily being in the direction that I desired to go, that is, what there was of it, which was very little. As the head came slowly into view, I saw that the monster was engaged in quietly crunching in his horrible jaws a fish of some size, that he had evidently just caught, and, upon which his attention seemed to be fixed. The moment was propitious, and, as the boat slowly drifted, not eight feet over the head of the terrible creature, I stood with the harpoon in my hand, and deliberately drove it downward with all my might through his head, just abaft the eyes. I did not stop to see the effect of my blow, but immediately tumbled into the water, as fast as possible, several of the large stones that I used on the shelves for ballast, so as to ascend at once towards the surface, casting overboard at the same time the line attached to the harpoon, with the buoy at the end. Relieved of the ballast, the boat commenced to ascend instantly and rapidly, but none too soon, for, as it was rushing towards the surface, just below me came the sweep of the creature's terrible tail in its death agony. If I had been struck with it, it would inevitably have capsized my boat, and perhaps have killed me, or, at least, left me to swim ashore to the island, distant some miles, or else be drowned; but, luckily, the blow missed me; the ascent of the boat was so rapid, the very moment I kicked and threw over some of the ballast. Having risen as near the surface as possible, I rigged my pump and ascended still further, and then, setting up my tripod and shipping my air-boat, I soon had air enough to rise completely above the surface, and to open the manhole and look about me. Of course, my first glance was to discover my buoy. Yes; there it lay, not fifty yards from me, without any motion, except what it received from the waves upon which it floated. I could hardly credit that at the other end lay the sea monster, transfixed through the brain with my trusty harpoon; but such, I felt sure, was the case. The mark had been too near and quiet for me to fail, and I had with my own eyes seen the iron driven in up to the staff through the centre of its head. I longed to find out the state of affairs, but did not dare to descend for fear of being caught in the folds of the dying monster. I steered for the floating buoy, and, getting hold of it, by means of a boat-hook thrust out of the manhole, I pulled it towards me, and gathered in all the slack line, till I could feel that I was pulling direct upon the harpoon. No vibration came to me through it, and I could slightly raise the weight evidently attached to the other end, but I was afraid of possibly drawing out the harpoon, so I did not attempt much in this direction; but, being assured that the creature was dead, I finally mustered up courage to descend and look at him. As I came near the bottom, I stopped the boat and advanced in the direction that the line from the buoy trended in. Yes, there he was, dead as a door-nail; but his whole body, that had so lately been stretched along the bottom, was coiled up and around the staff of the harpoon, which had pinned the head to the ocean's bed. I came near enough to see that the creature was really dead, and then, rising to the surface, I made all haste for Stillwater Cove. Arriving, I got up steam on the yacht, and made all haste back to the buoy, towing the submarine boat behind me. When I got upon the ground, I descended in the submarine boat, and, by means of ropes, and pulling and hauling in each direction, I got the body of the serpent somewhat straightened out and the head clear. Around the neck I fastened a good, strong, rawhide rope and attached the buoy rope to it. I then, at a distance of some thirty or forty feet from the head, lashed to the back of the creature my air-boat, to sustain that part somewhat, so that it would not drag upon the bottom. I then arose to the surface and went on board of the yacht, and took the buoy rope to the balance-wheel in the engine-room, and hove the head of the monster nearly to the surface; the water sustaining it, so that it was not very heavy. I trusted to my air-boat to help sustain the remainder of the body, and, thus accoutred, with the submarine boat towing far astern out of the way, I headed slowly for Stillwater Cove, towing my prey behind me. When I arrived at the opening of the cove I drew the carcase as far as possible, by means of the steam yacht, on to the sandy seashore, where the tide would leave it out of water when it receded. I then liberated my goats, and moored the boat in the harbor near by, and, taking my pets on board, after anchoring the serpent safely, steamed towards the Hermitage, where I landed them, and took on board some empty barrels and knives, hatchets, and saws, to dissect my sea monster. When I arrived back the sea had already fallen so as to leave the head and at least twenty feet of the body high and dry. After the tide had wholly gone down, I measured the monster, and these were the dimensions. Taking my measure of a fathom as a standard, the creature was twenty-two and one-half fathoms long, and, at its largest girth--about two fathoms below the neck--over one fathom and a quarter in circumference. It is difficult to describe the monster, but I will try. The head was at least eight feet long, and the extent to which the mouth could be opened over six feet; the gullet was small; the teeth numerous, but small; the nostrils large and prominent; the eyes fully six inches in diameter, and with an expression that, even now that the creature was dead, I could not stand when I looked into them. In the stomach I found only small pieces of different kind of fishes, and, by the smallness of the teeth and gullet, I am inclined to believe that the creature is naturally quite harmless, like most of the mighty animals of the earth,--as the sperm whale, elephant, etc., which never attack anyone unless disturbed. Beyond the head, and, for a distance of some ten feet, grew a sort of mane, formed of pendant tissues of flesh some five or six feet in length, exactly like those to be found on the sides of the mouth of the Mississippi cat-fish or smaller horn-pout. Towards the tail, and some distance from it, was an adipose fin, that was at least a foot high and fifteen feet long. The skin of the creature was of a mottled greenish hue, rough, and discolored, something the color of the shell of a very young crab, and at least a good quarter of an inch in thickness. Having taken all the dimensions of the monster, I went to work and cut off his head, and left it purposely where the fishes, lobsters, etc., would feed upon it at high water, so as to in time preserve its skeleton when all the bones were completely articulated. The remainder of the body I skinned in sections, at different times, and was glad to roll the rest of the body into the current of Stillwater Cove, to be carried out to sea. [Illustration: THE SEA SERPENT.--PAGE 347.] I have enough on hand, at the time of writing this, to prove to any one that I have both seen and captured the veritable sea serpent; for, as I sit in the Hermitage, the whole skull, with jaws, teeth, and part of the vertebræ attached, is hung up near me, and below it a circular piece, nearly four feet long, of the hide of the animal at its greatest girth. The frontal bone of the skull, which is not very thick, is broken where the harpoon iron entered and caused immediate death. With this exception the whole specimen is in complete order; and I have also a sketch of the animal drawn upon parchment, from actual life, taken by myself before he was at all mutilated or cut up. I hope that this truthful, consistent, and convincing recital will close forever this mooted question; for there is a sea serpent, and I have been able to capture and preserve one of his species. CHAPTER XXIX. Make a Balloon and Flying Machine, in which I make a Successful Ascension. My thoughts turned wholly now upon means of defending my vast treasures in case of invasion, and devising ways of escape from the island. As to the former, I overhauled all my artillery at the different points, increased my stock of gunpowder, and had each cannon well supplied with ammunition. I also perfected my battery at Stillwater Cove, and kept the armament on the walls of the Hermitage in excellent order. Not content with this, I went to work in the foundry and turned out several cylinders, similar to the one I had exploded the sunken wreck with, which I fitted with flint and steel, ready to be filled with powder; in short, a species of torpedo, which I had fully determined to take into the submarine boat and explode beneath the bottom of any hostile vessel that should dare to attack me, so much had the acquisition of vast riches changed my disposition. I felt that any vessel approaching and anchoring would be at my mercy; for in the night-time I could approach her, wherever she might be anchored, unknown to anyone, and, attaching one of my infernal machines, send her to the bottom with all on board. I do not say that I should have done this, but I was prepared for all emergencies, and determined to defend my treasure to the last. For means of escape I turned my attention to ballooning,--a subject which I had thought much about, but heretofore had done nothing in that direction. For several years I had been quietly gathering in all the dried pods of milkweed, floss, or silk that I could find,--and large spaces of the island were covered with it,--determined at some time to weave me some kind of cloth or silk from its fibre. I now commenced seriously upon this work, and took hold of it in earnest. It would take too long to relate how many changes I had to make in my loom, which I built of cast-iron, to be moved by water-power, before I could get it to work at all; but I had the theory all correct, and it was only practice that I needed to make cloth. The machine for spinning the floss into threads took me the longest time, but I finally accomplished it. After a while, and with many failures, I commenced to turn out from my loom a sort of cloth, about a yard wide, which was very strong, flexible, and light, but of an uneven surface, on account of the irregularity in the size of my threads, and fuzzy, like coarse flannel; but for strength and practical use I found the material all that could be desired; and, having tested it, I set carding and spinning wheels to work daily to procure thread for my loom. After making some hundred yards of this cloth, I stopped all the operations to experiment in another direction. In my boyhood I had seen balloon-ascensions made by filling the bag with a gas, created by pouring sulphuric acid upon iron or steel filings in this manner: Several old hogsheads were brought upon the field where the ascension was to take place, and into each of them was poured a quantity of iron filings, scraps, etc., and upon this was poured sulphuric acid; the casks were then headed up, and through a small orifice the gas engendered was led by a pipe from each to the balloon, which was thus inflated. If I could make this gas and successfully inflate a small balloon, it would then be time enough for me to advance with my clothmaking for a large one. I easily ascertained from my book how to make sulphuric acid. And this is how I did it: I got together a quantity of sulphur or brimstone, and setting fire to it in a closed vessel, with just enough draught for it to burn, I led the fumes into a closed vessel of water through a short funnel, where, combining with the water, I had at once sulphuric acid. To test this I tackled my friends the dog-sharks, in Stillwater Cove, and obtained several bladders, very thin and light, just suited for my purpose, which I blew up with atmospheric air, and allowed to dry perfectly in the sun. When they were in proper condition I placed in one of my porcelain jars a few handfuls of iron and steel filings, and poured upon it some of the sulphuric acid that I had made, and then lashed the neck of the bladder to the orifice of the jar. I watched my experiment with subdued excitement. I felt sure that I was right in theory; would the thing work in practice? I had yet to see. After leaving the bladder on for a considerable time, I drew a string around it perfectly tight so that no gas could escape and released it from the jar. With fear and trepidation I loosed my hold upon it, and in one moment it shot up into the sky like a rocket till it was nearly beyond my sight, when it disappeared in a northeasterly direction before a strong wind that was blowing. I was as pleased as a boy with his first toy-balloon, and, like a child, I let off several of these bladders as fast as filled with gas, perfectly fascinated to see them ascend and then disappear in the blue ether. Here was a means at once of sending up daily messengers to all parts of the world, stating the latitude and longitude of the island, and asking for rescue. Aye, but there was the rub; without my treasure how gladly would I have seized upon this method of letting my captivity be known, but with it I had become a coward. I wanted to escape, and did not dare to ask anyone to aid me. The knowledge that I could ask was, of course, a satisfaction, but as yet I did not dare to risk it, and put the matter on one side for further meditation at some future day. Finding that my theory about the gas was correct, I went to work again upon my clothmaking, and worked hard at it nearly six months, when I had sufficient quantity for my purpose, which was to make a balloon of large enough size to make an ascension in myself. I did not have any foolhardy idea of leaving the island in a balloon and landing I knew not where, but I was determined to make a series of experiments in several directions, that had been running through my head for years before, and to see what they were worth. In the first place I went to work and made a balloon, in the shape of an immense cigar, of the cloth that I had manufactured, which was some thirty feet long, and ten feet in diameter. My theory was this. In all balloon ascensions navigators heretofore had only been able to fill a sack with gas, and to ascend into the air, and descend by allowing the same to escape, in other words, to have but little control of the machine except to ascend and descend, and this in a limited degree. I had often noticed that, in the severest storms, seabirds would remain poised in the air without moving a wing, facing the wind, and yet not recede before it, but by a slight motion of the wings, not up and down or a stroke, but a sort of elevation of the body, dart dead to windward against it. I had also noticed that, if a tin plate was thrown into the air against a strong wind, it would often, if at the right angle, increase its speed greatly after leaving the hand, and dart into the wind's eye with extreme velocity. Hence I thought that a balloon could be made to tack in the air exactly as a boat tacks in the water, except that the motion of tacking should be perpendicular instead of horizontal. Suppose that a balloon, cigar-shaped like mine, was poised in air at an altitude of one thousand feet, and that at each end of the car was arranged a light but large horizontal flat surface, exactly like a barn door laid upon the ground, with its hinges attached to the car. To advance against the wind why not elevate the one in front and depress the one in rear to the right angle, or till they were filled as we should say of sails, and then advance into the wind's eye, increasing at the same time the elevation, as the tin plate is forced forward; and, having made a tack upward and forward, why not elevate the rear screen and depress the front one, and descend towards the earth at an angle, still eating our way to windward, and when near the surface reverse the action and mount again heavenward, but still to windward. Besides this, why should not my balloon be filled with gas till it would lift myself, the screens, the car, and all its apparatus _within one or two pounds_. That is to say, to have just enough gas in the balloon, not to raise the apparatus, but to so nearly raise it that another person, if present, could lift the whole in his hand; practically to reduce the weight of my body to that of a good sized duck; then with small wings, not immense cumbersome ones, the same size that would raise a duck, I ought to be able to raise myself, and sail in the air. Could it be done? After I had made my balloon bag I covered all the cloth and the seams with a fine varnish that I made from the resinous trees of the island. This part of my task caused me little trouble. Having finished it I went to work upon my car and its appurtenances, which I made almost wholly of small cane, very strong but very light. I made also two immense screens or fans, which I fastened to either end, so that they could be elevated or depressed, and covered the light framework with cloth. Underneath the centre of my car was hung vertically a propeller, also made of cane, and the blades covered with cloth, and on each side a fan wheel some six feet in circumference and two wide. The shaft of these fan wheels and propeller was brought into the car, and, by a series of bevelled gear made of the lightest iron possible, was connected with a treadmill for one of my goats, motion upon which would give over five hundred revolutions per minute to the fan wheels and propeller. In this car I also fixed a jar of iron filings and a bottle of sulphuric acid to make gas, if necessary, to replace that which would in time leak out of the balloon if long inflated. I also provided the machine with sand ballast in case I should need it to keep up the equilibrium in case the gas should escape faster than I expected, when I could keep my elevation by discharging it. After this was all arranged, the next thing was to make the experiment. I have always thought that great advancement has been made in all the arts of navigating the ocean on account of the ease and safety with which experiments can be made, but to experiment in the air one must go into the air, and if the theory does not work in practice, down he comes, perhaps a corpse, on to the hard earth, whilst a capsize in the ocean in experimenting is nothing. Now I had made up my mind to go up in this machine, if possible, but I had also made up my mind that I would go over the water and not over the land, so that if anything did not work, I should only take a cold bath and nothing more; besides, by my theory, I need not go high, and could keep a few feet above the surface of the sea, and if disaster occurred I could swim ashore. I put my goat daily upon his treadmill and worked my machine theoretically till I was satisfied with it. I then made myself a nice life preserver of fish bladders, and put into the car some few provisions and water. The next task was to launch myself properly into space without any disaster. To enable me to do this I went to the mouth of Stillwater Cove and erected a sort of wharf from the shore out into the water at nearly high tide, about four feet wide, upon which I could rest my car with the fan wheels hanging over each side and the propeller clear underneath, the wharf not being planked, but consisting of a few uprights and cross pieces only. I carried here all my utensils for making gas and had everything prepared for a start. I needed in the first place a day with but little wind, but what there was to be from the southward so as to blow me off into Perseverance Bay when I should start. After some waiting, such a day came and I hastened to take advantage of it. In the first place I took the canoe in tow of the yacht, and anchored it nearly a mile from shore in the direction that the wind blew, so as to be able, perhaps, to reach it if I should find myself too far from land in case of disaster. I then returned and went to work filling my balloon with gas. This I did on shore, till I had sufficient in the balloon to make it steady, when I conveyed it over the car upon the wharf, where I attached it by its numerous cords, and then connected it again with the orifice of the pipe that was supplying the gas. I had before in a rude balance ascertained my own weight in sand-bags, and these I had in the car to represent myself. I put the goat on the treadmill, all harnessed in, ready to start at a moment's notice, and in fact I did start him before the balloon was very buoyant, to see if everything was working right. I walked about the car, lifting it once in a while to see how buoyant it was. I should have said that the propeller had been changed from my first idea, as had the paddles. The former was so arranged as to work vertically, and motion from it ought to force me into the air, whilst the latter were arranged in the form of two lateral propellers, I having bethought myself in season that a revolving wheel in the air would not force me in any direction, whilst a propeller would. The time finally came when the car and all its appurtenances weighed only a few ounces in my hand, in fact nearly ready to take flight of itself. I then cut off the gas and placed myself in the car and commenced quietly emptying over the side the sand bags that represented my own weight; and these being exhausted, I boldly threw over at once two bags weighing nearly or fully twenty-five pounds each, as I was determined to start clear and rapidly from my resting place, knowing that I could easily descend by letting out a very little gas. The effect was instantaneous, and I arose rapidly and commenced floating slowly out over Perseverance Bay; but I had no desire to go high, and I opened the throttle valve at the very moment the balloon started, and at the height of about one hundred feet it was already commencing to slowly descend, which I allowed it to do, till it was about twenty-five feet above the water, when I threw out of gear the lateral propellers and started the goat; the effect was instantaneous in checking the descent, and the vertical propeller was forcing me upward with magnificent speed, in fact I found myself quite too high for comfort before I bethought myself of stopping the goat, which being done I commenced again to descend, but quite leisurely, being very evenly balanced in the air. When I came near the water, I set the vertical propeller again to work and arose heavenward. All this time I was drifting slowly out seaward over Perseverance Bay, and I thought it time to try my lateral propellers; so, setting the gear at once by a handset, I put on all goat power, being at a distance of some fifty feet above the water, as near as I could judge. Everything worked admirably, and I saw that I was rapidly increasing my speed seaward. When I descended too near the ocean I put on the vertical propeller, but I noticed that the lateral ones sustained me as well as forced me forward. I soon ran past the place where the "Fairy" was anchored, and I had now to try my last experiment. By this time I had become at ease in my car, and began to feel as safe and secure as in the submarine boat. By stopping one of the lateral propellers I soon had my balloon turned round and facing the wind, which was at this elevation and out to sea, rather more than I had reckoned upon. As the point of the cigar-shaped balloon came to the wind, I put on the vertical propeller and ascended higher than I had ever yet been, and then, depressing the forward screen and elevating the rear one, I made a dive in a slanting direction towards the ocean; and here I had like to have been shipwrecked, for my car commenced descending with such rapidity that I had scarcely time to reverse the action before I was in the ocean, but happily, by starting the vertical propeller I saved myself, and found the car going just as rapidly upwards. I had solved the problem. _I was tacking to windward in the air._ I was utilizing the action that causes a boomerang to take the seemingly erratic course it does through space. Having tacked a few times I stopped in mid-air, and, as I had evidently lost some little gas, threw over a small amount of sand, till I sailed again almost in equilibrio. I then put on all the speed of my lateral propellers, and found that I could stem the wind, and that I was approaching the shore. By the action of either one propeller or the other I could change the direction of the car at will, and was enabled to hover over the very wharf whence I started, and to land upon it with a shock no greater than sitting down upon a hard chair. I then let the gas escape from the balloon, and released my little goat, who had been my mainstay through all this perilous adventure. I had made a more successful ascension than had ever before been made in the world, and if I could replace my goat-power by some other--such as a caloric engine, or some method of compressed air--I should have a vehicle worthy of the nineteenth century. Of course it would not do to have an engine, however small, fed with coal, or I should inevitably have an explosion. At the present I felt that the goat power must do me; and, even if he should fail, my weight was also so nearly that of a few ounces or pounds that I could not fall hard, or with much velocity, even if he should from some reason refuse to work, or some of my machinery give way. The only thing that I feared was the tacking business; this I considered dangerous, with the crude appliances that I had, and I made up my mind not to be tipped out into the ocean, and therefore took them off the car, making up my mind that I would not make an ascension when there was more wind than I could head against with the lateral propellors, and, furthermore, now I had tested the machine, there was no need of my going off the island, over the sea, but I was free to sail all over the land, and if a storm of wind should arise, in which my crude car would be unmanageable, I had only to descend, and walk home. I may as well say here, that I often afterwards enjoyed myself in the air, floating over my own island, and that I never met with the slightest accident, of any kind; but I could not utilize my discovery enough to dare to attempt an ocean voyage with it. It was a pretty plaything, and would make my fortune if amongst civilized people; but I have no objection to both my submarine boat and balloon becoming public property, as far as I am concerned, I having enough actual wealth, in solid metal, to enable me to enjoy everything in this life worth enjoying. If this manuscript ever comes to the hands of any one, they can go ahead and manufacture without infringing upon my patent-rights; but should they make an immense fortune, as they are sure to do, why then they can remember the inventor, if they choose; if God wills it that I should ever be where any of my fellow-men can help me, or I them. By my series of experiments in ballooning I had exhausted all my inventions for escape, and I still returned to one of two things: To let the world know of my distress by sending the news by balloons, or else escape myself, in my steam yacht, or life raft, and run the risk of finding the island occupied upon my return, and myself debarred from my treasures and ownership. Between these two I felt that it was time for me to choose, definitely and speedily. CHAPTER XXX. The manuscript sent forth. PERSEVERANCE ISLAND, SOUTH PACIFIC, January, 1877. I have decided. I am no longer in doubt. My mind is fully made up as to the course I must take, and that it is of no use for me to remain upon this island fretting my life away. I must escape, I must have companionship, and I must choose. Each method presented to my mind has its advantages, and I have long been in doubt which to adopt: but the struggle is ended; I have fully made up my mind, and shall not swerve from it. If I should try to escape I have the following methods open to me: First, the submarine boat. If I should decide to use that method, I should, in the first place, have to build a much larger one, with room for provisions and bed; and, being larger, it would be propelled much slower by goat power, for I could not utilize a steam-engine on account of the oxygen it would eat up, and the necessary space that would be needed for fuel. Now to build another, and larger boat, would take time and patience, and would be practically useless when built; so I dismissed this from my mind. The one I now had was too small to carry provisions for myself and goats, enough to last any great length of time; and the whole fabric was too crude to trust myself in for a voyage of any length, supposing, even, that I could carry in it sufficient food to sustain life. There was one principle, however, in the submarine boat that I hated to give up, and that was the perfect safety from storms on the surface: these I could escape at all times,--and, again, I should never lose in the night-time what I made in the day. There would be no drifting back, before the wind, whilst I was asleep, but by descending from the surface at night I should rest peacefully till morning, subject only to the slow drift of any ocean current that I might encounter. In stormy weather also I could always keep on my way in perfect calm, beneath the surface, without resistance of any kind except the friction of the water. These points were strongly in my favor; but I could not see any way to utilize them. One great impediment would be the want of air. If I should have to remain below the surface for any length of time beyond a few hours, I should have to keep to work preparing and introducing new air. Then, if my steering apparatus should get out of order, it would be difficult to repair it, and if my goats should die, or become sick, I should be utterly without any means of locomotion, and liable to be left drifting about in mid-ocean till death ended my troubles. No; after long and anxious consultation with myself, I was forced to give up all idea of using my submarine boat, and, having so decided, put it wholly and completely out of my mind, and did not allow myself to think of it again in connection with my escape. This gave my mind relief to concentrate itself upon the second means of escape, namely, the steam yacht. Here I was again puzzled. There was a great deal in its favor. I should, of course, have to sleep, and during my sleep I should go to leeward, before the wind, without reckoning of where I should bring up. I felt that I could stop this drifting, to a degree, by making a sort of bag of canvas, to be submerged in the ocean to a certain depth to which the yacht could be anchored, so to speak, during the night. She would, of course, still drift, but not one-quarter as much as she would without it. Such an anchor was often used successfully, as I well knew, in larger vessels, in gales of wind, to keep them head to sea, and to prevent them drifting so rapidly to leeward before the blast as they would without it. If I should risk this drifting I might also be exposed to all kinds of weather and gales of wind to which my little boat was hardly equal. I felt confident that she would not be safe in a heavy seaway, and, if the machinery should break down, I should be reduced to sails alone, which I could only handle in the daytime, and which, in any sudden squall, might cause my being capsized for want of assistance in taking them in. No; I knew the risk was too great. I might never see land for months, if at all, if my machinery should give out so as to compel me to use sails, which would often become unmanageable by myself alone. No, I must give this idea up; and I did so. I next turned my thoughts to a catamaran boat, or life raft,--something upon hollow cylinders, that could not capsize, and upon which I should feel sure of being safe, as far as any fear I might have of the ocean. This seemed more feasible than anything yet,--slow, to be sure, but more safe than any of the foregoing. I had here the danger of being washed off such a raft, the discomforts of being forced to go without fire during any gale of wind, and to be utterly unable to advance, with any great speed, towards my place of destination, unless the wind should be, by chance, favorable. By this third method I should, in reality, be exposed upon an open raft to the winds of heaven, for how long a time God only knew. That I should suffer infinitely I felt certain. I was too old not to see plainly just what I should have to go through with to put to sea in such a vessel. I knew that it had been done, and that just such rafts had crossed the Atlantic after many weary days of passage, and others had started that were called life rafts,--and believed so to be both by practical and scientific men, who had examined them before their departure,--which had never been heard of again. No, I would not trust myself to the mercies of the sea in this manner, and exchange my pleasant island for its dangers. My last chance of escape was by my flying-machine, and the many things in its favor tempted me greatly, and at one time I thought that they had overcome in my mind the danger. I could easily construct one of these machines, that would take into the air both myself, my two goats, provisions, spare sulphuric acid and steel filings to make new gas, and if my machinery would work I could escape in safety, I felt convinced. I could, as I have said, make new gas, even when on my voyage; and if I should use up all my sand-bags, and needed more ballast, I had only to let down a bucket into the ocean, attached to a long line, and pull up as much water as I might need to overcome the buoyancy of any new gas I might make. I might, also, if a favorable wind should commence, fly like a bird towards the continent of South America. But, on the other hand, if a gale should arise, I might, if one of my fragile propellers should become broken, be hurled before the blast till I floated above the vast ocean far beyond the reach of mortal aid. If I dared trust my machinery this would be the way I should make my attempt; but I did not feel that I had the right to risk my life in this manner, or by any of the above methods, till I had exhausted all means of making the outside world come to me. Therefore, after due and serious consideration, I made up my mind firmly not to try to escape by any of the above plans, or by any means, till I had tried the other alternative. This decision having once been firmly made, I felt that more than half my task was already done; for it was this shilly-shallying that was undoing me. Anything was better than to waste my life in this useless wavering. What good to me was all my wealth unless I could utilize it? and to do so I must run some risks, and the quicker I undertook them the quicker I should be put out of my pain and misery if my plans were to be successful, and the more years I should have to enjoy my princely revenues. I could not better affairs by any act of mine. It was all in the hands of God, and I might as well now, as at any time, give myself up to what He might order for the best. Having thus made up my mind to let my position be known to the outside world, and to ask for assistance and aid, I had next to settle upon the best plan. If I should send up, daily, one or more small balloons, with a piece of parchment attached, giving the latitude and longitude of the island and asking for rescue, I ran several risks. In the first place, I was well aware that in these days, on board steamers, with passengers especially, anything and everything was thought of to pass away an idle hour, and that albatrosses, when caught, were fitted out often with letters and legends tied to their feet; that, in sport, bottles were often thrown overboard containing fables and yarns of shipwreck and disaster, and I was very much afraid that, if one of my balloons should be picked up, it would be taken as a hoax, as the first thing would be to examine the chart, and no island would be found to exist where I now write these lines. Besides, if anybody should pick up one of my balloons, which at sea was improbable, it would, I fear, be taken little account of. For, although I might send up hundreds, the chance of their falling into the water so as to be seen by any vessel, in the daytime, near enough to be distinguished from a nautilus, was extremely and infinitesimally small. No, I had little hope in this direction. On the other hand, should they reach land, the chart would show that there was no known land in the direction specified, and the whole thing would be taken as a hoax from the next neighboring town, and I felt sure no attention would be paid to it. And if any of them landed on the coast of South America, as was possible, and even probable, the English language, in which they would be written, would be so much Greek to the natives. On the other hand, should one of them be picked up by a vessel, and search made for the island, what guarantee had I that I would be allowed to preserve my treasure? No! I felt that small balloons would be of little use to me, and, in fact, might do more harm than good. What should I do to prove that I was in earnest; that there was such an island, and that I was upon it, in person; and that I needed help and assistance, which I could repay? Why, I felt convinced, by writing a history of all my sorrows, troubles, and tribulations, that would bear upon its face the impress of truth, would carry conviction to any mind that would read it, and would prove to the intellect of any one that it was not _fiction_, but truth, in all its majesty, never to be mistaken for the former. This, I felt, was the only way to reach out towards a rescue, and it is for this purpose that all that has been herein set down has been penned. Having made my mind up firmly to this, I have written all the above, to be launched into space. Let me beg that my story may be believed, and that I may be rescued; let me ask of you, who find this, by God's grace, to weigh each word and sentence, and feel that you are reading no romance. I shall attach this to a balloon of size, so as to float long in the air, and to attract attention, if ever observed by any one, both by the strangeness of its make and these parchment sheets upon which I have written. And now let me proclaim to the world the following,--for if this manuscript ever does come into the hands of anyone who intends to seek me out, let all that is contained therein be perfectly understood:-- PROCLAMATION. _In the name of God, Amen._--Be it known to all men, that I, William Anderson, a citizen of the United States of America, do here solemnly declare that I am the discoverer, and at this present the occupant, of an island in the South Pacific Ocean, which I have named Perseverance Island, and that said island lies in the latitude of 42° 21' S., and longitude 119° 11' 15'' W. of Greenwich. That I was cast on shore, and miraculously saved by the goodness of God, on Nov. 10, 1865, and that I claim as my own, in the name of the United States, all this hitherto unknown island as my property, belonging to me and my heirs forever; and, inasmuch as I have discovered upon and about this island immense treasures, as recited in a narrative hereto annexed, I ask, demand, and pray for the protection of the United States, and hope that it will be deemed both fitting and proper to dispatch a man-of-war to protect me, for which assistance I am fully ready and capable of reimbursing the government for any outlay; and further, let it be well understood that I, the aforesaid William Anderson, will resist to the death any encroachment upon my property, by whomsoever made; and that for the protection of myself, my treasure, and my island, it is hereby plainly stated, all manner of instruments of defence have been made by me, the said William Anderson, and that the harbors of the island are strewed with torpedoes, and that it is highly dangerous to attempt to land upon any part of the island without intercourse with, and consent of, myself. And that there may be no mistake, and that I may know that if any that approach have seen this proclamation, and acknowledge my just claims and pity my long years of solitude and suffering, I issue the following set of signals, to be by them used in token of amity and that they come to me as friends, otherwise they will be treated as enemies; and although my wealth is great, as herein related, it is believed that pity for my sufferings will touch the heart of any in the civilized world, and I do look most for succor and comfort from the ships of war of the United States of America. The signals to be made by any vessel approaching the island, which would be in safety, and rules for anchorage, etc., are the following, and must be strictly observed:-- If in the daytime, the vessel, if a steamer, will stand in to the mouth of Mirror Bay till the two iron discs on the mainland are in line, or nearly so, when she will anchor, in six fathoms of water, and then fire three guns, two from the starboard side, one from the port side, and then run up the colors of her nation to the mizzen peak. A sailing vessel will follow these orders except that greater license will be granted her in coming to in a line with the two discs. If a vessel makes the island in the night-time, she will heave to, or stand off and on, and not attempt to approach, by boat or otherwise, at her peril, till the morning; keeping up, during the night, a red signal lantern at the fore, and firing one gun; when, in the morning, she can stand in under the rule preceding this, for daytime. Having anchored and signalled, the same will be answered by the occupant of the island by two guns from South Cape, when a boat can then come on shore, containing three persons, one officer and two seamen, who, if unarmed, will be allowed to land, and, if honest and true men, as is to be hoped, remuneration for all their trouble in seeking me out will be freely granted. But let it be distinctly understood that all my treasures, of both gold, silver, and pearls, are no longer hidden in the places described in my narrative, but have been removed, and carefully re-hidden, and that an attempt to take my life and possess one's self of my treasures will be futile, for their burying-place will never be known; and I shall resist all aggression with all my might and strength, and, if need be, give up my life in defending my treasure, that I have watched over for so many years. In my lonely, solitude, with none but the hand of the ever-present Providence spread over to protect me, I sign the above proclamation as my will and desire. WILLIAM ANDERSON. PERSEVERANCE ISLAND, South Pacific, Jan. 10, 1877. And now I have done. I am about to cast this manuscript to the winds of heaven, to be conveyed hence to where God shall think best. Let me beg that the subject-matter of the "Good Luck" may be published in the London newspapers, when attention may be brought to the case, and the old society may send for me, and believe in me much quicker than the outside world will. I know but little French, but, to still further protect this manuscript I add these few lines, from what remains to me in memory, of the sailor's French that I once picked up, in Havre, in years gone by, so that this may not be thrown carelessly away if it falls into the hands of any who can speak that lingo. AVIS. Ne jetez pas cette papier; c'est écrit en Anglais et est DE GRAND IMPORTANCE. Faites rendre en Français, et vous trouverai une vraie historie d'or et de l'argent trouvé par moi sur une isle dans l'océan Pacific. * * * * * I have no more to add. I have finished my story with regret. I am tying this manuscript together, and inflating the balloon that is to carry it where God wills. I will believe in His justice, and await in patience His reply to my many prayers. WILLIAM ANDERSON. [Illustration: THE MANUSCRIPT COMMITTED TO THE WINDS.--PAGE 372.] L'ENVOI. It may be interesting to call to the attention of those whose eyes it may have escaped, the following that appeared in the _New York Herald_ of June 16, 1880:-- "_In addition to our account of the wonderful story and succor of William Anderson, from his Pacific Island, with all his treasures, and his arrival at this port in the U. S. S. S. Tallapoosa, published in our last evening's edition, we have to state that, at a late hour, it was ascertained that this remarkable personage, who appears in excellent good health and spirits, will at once sail by one of the Cunarders for London to confer with his associates there, who were the originators of the "Good Luck" scheme. He states that, having no relatives, he shall, without doubt, expend the larger portion of his immense wealth for charitable purposes, and that it is very probable he may return to Perseverance Island, with a colony, there to end his days._" * * * * * * Transcriber's note: Obvious printer errors have been corrected. Otherwise, the author's original spelling, punctuation and hyphenation have been left intact. 
6897	----	Al Haines. THE LITTLE SAVAGE BY CAPTAIN MARRYAT THIS IS FAIRY GOLD, BOY; AND 'T WILL PROVE SO. SHAKESPEARE INTRODUCTION There is a reference, in _The Life and Letters of Captain Marryat_ by his daughter Florence Marryat, to "_The Little Savage_, only two chapters of the second volume of which were written by himself." This sentence may be variously interpreted, but most probably implies that Marryat wrote all Part I (of the first edition) and two chapters of Part II, that is--as far as the end of Chapter xxiv. The remaining pages may be the work of his son Frank S. Marryat, who _edited_ the first edition, supplying a brief preface to Part II:-- "I cannot publish this last work of my late father without some prefatory remarks, as, in justice to the public, as well as to himself, I should state, that his lamented decease prevented his concluding the second volume." "The present volume has been for some time at press, but the long-protracted illness of the author delayed its publication." _The Little Savage_ opens well. The picture of a lad, who was born on a desert island--though of English parents--and really deserves to be called a savage, growing up with no other companionship than that of his father's murderer, is boldly conceived and executed with some power. The man Jackson is a thoroughly human ruffian, who naturally detests the boy he has so terribly injured, and bullies him brutally. Under this treatment Frank's animal passions are inevitably aroused, and when the lightning had struck his tyrant blind, he turns upon him with a quiet savagery that is narrated with admirable detachment. This original situation arrests the reader's attention and secures his interest in Frank Henniker's development towards civilisation and virtue. His experience of absolute solitude after Jackson's death serves to bring out his sympathies with animals and flowers; while, on the arrival of Mrs Reichardt, he proves himself a loyal comrade under kind treatment. It is much to be regretted that Marryat did not live to finish his work. R. B. J. _The Little Savage_ originally appeared in 1848-49. Marryat, who was born in 1792, died at Langham, Norfolk, August 9, 1848. The following is the list of his published works:-- Suggestions for the Abolition of the Present System of Impressment in the Naval Service, 1822; The Naval Officer, or Scenes and Adventures in the Life of Frank Mildmay, 1829; The King's Own, 1830; Newton Forster (from the _Metropolitan Magazine_), 1832; Jacob Faithful (from the _Metropolitan Magazine_), 1834; Peter Simple, 1834; The Pacha of Many Tales, 1835; Midshipman Easy (from the _Metropolitan Magazine_), 1836; Japhet in Search of a Father (from the _Metropolitan Magazine_), 1836; The Pirate and The Three Cutters, 1836; A Code of Signals for the Use of Vessels employed in the Merchant Service, 1837; Snarleyyow, or The Dog Fiend, 1837; A Diary in America, with Remarks on its Institutions, 1839; The Phantom Ship, 1839; Poor Jack, 1840; Olla Podrida (articles from the _Metropolitan Magazine_), 1840; Joseph Rushbrook, or The Poacher, 1841; Masterman Ready, or The Wreck of the _Pacific_, 1841; Percival Keene, 1842; Narrative of the Travels and Adventures of Monsieur Violet in California, Sonora, and Western Texas, 1843; The Settlers in Canada, 1844; The Mission, or Scenes in Africa, 1845; The Privateer's Man, 1846; The Children of the New Forest, 1847; The Little Savage (posthumous), 1848-49; Valerie (posthumous), 1849; Life and Letters, Florence Marryat, 1872. THE LITTLE SAVAGE Chapter I I am about to write a very curious history, as the reader will agree with me when he has read this book. We have more than one narrative of people being cast away upon desolate islands, and being left to their own resources, and no works are perhaps read with more interest; but I believe I am the first instance of a boy being left alone upon an uninhabited island. Such was, however, the case; and now I shall tell my own story. My first recollections are, that I was in company with a man upon this island, and that we walked often along the sea-shore. It was rocky and difficult to climb in many parts, and the man used to drag or pull me over the dangerous places. He was very unkind to me, which may appear strange, as I was the only companion that he had; but he was of a morose and gloomy disposition. He would sit down squatted in the corner of our cabin, and sometimes not speak for hours--or he would remain the whole day looking out at the sea, as if watching for something, but what I never could tell; for if I spoke, he would not reply; and if near to him, I was sure to receive a cuff or a heavy blow. I should imagine that I was about five years old at the time that I first recollect clearly what passed. I may have been younger. I may as well here state what I gathered from him at different times, relative to our being left upon this desolate spot. It was with difficulty that I did so; for, generally speaking, he would throw a stone at me if I asked questions, that is, if I repeatedly asked them after he had refused to answer. It was on one occasion, when he was lying sick, that I gained the information, and that only by refusing to attend him or bring him food and water. He would be very angry, and say, that when he got well again, he would make me smart for it; but I cared not, for I was then getting strong, whilst he was getting weaker every day, and I had no love for him, for he had never shown any to me, but always treated me with great severity. He told me, that about twelve years before (not that I knew what he meant by a year, for I had never heard the term used by him), an English ship (I did not know what a ship was) had been swamped near the island, in a heavy gale, and that seven men and one woman had been saved, and all the other people lost. That the ship had been broken into pieces, and that they had saved nothing--that they had picked up among the rocks pieces of the wood with which it had been made, and had built the cabin in which we lived. That one had died after another, and had been buried (what death or burial meant, I had no idea at the time), and that I had been born on the island; (How was I born? thought I)--that most of them had died before I was two years old; and that then, he and my mother were the only two left besides me. My mother had died a few months afterwards. I was obliged to ask him many questions to understand all this; indeed, I did not understand it till long afterwards, although I had an idea of what he would say. Had I been left with any other person, I should, of course, by conversation, have learnt much; but he never would converse, still less explain. He called me, Boy, and I called him, Master. His inveterate silence was the occasion of my language being composed of very few words; for, except to order me to do this or that, to procure what was required, he never would converse. He did however mutter to himself, and talk in his sleep, and I used to lie awake and listen, that I might gain information; not at first, but when I grew older. He used to cry out in his sleep constantly.--"A judgment, a judgment on me for my sins, my heavy sins--God be merciful!" But what judgment, or what sin was, or what was God, I did not then know, although I mused on words repeated so often. I will now describe the island, and the way in which we lived. The island was very small, perhaps not three miles round; it was of rock, and there was no beach nor landing place, the sea washing its sides with deep water. It was, as I afterwards discovered, one of the group of islands to which the Peruvians despatch vessels every year to collect the guano, or refuse of the sea birds which resort to the islands; but the one on which we were was small, and detached some distance from the others, on which the guano was found in great profusion; so that hitherto it had been neglected, and no vessel had ever come near it. Indeed, the other islands were not to be seen from it except on a very clear day, when they appeared like a cloud or mist on the horizon. The shores of the island were, moreover, so precipitous, that there was no landing place, and the eternal wash of the ocean would have made it almost impossible for a vessel to have taken off a cargo. Such was the island upon which I found myself in company with this man. Our cabin was built of ship-plank and timber, under the shelter of a cliff, about fifty yards from the water; there was a flat of about thirty yards square in front of it, and from the cliff there trickled down a rill of water, which fell into a hole dug out to collect it, and then found its way over the flat to the rocks beneath. The cabin itself was large, and capable of holding many more people than had ever lived in it; but it was not too large, as we had to secure in it our provisions for many months. There were several bed-places level with the floor, which were rendered soft enough to lie on, by being filled with the feathers of birds. Furniture there was none, except two or three old axes, blunted with long use, a tin pannikin, a mess kid and some rude vessels to hold water, cut out of wood. On the summit of the island there was a forest of underwood, and the bushes extended some distance down the ravines which led from the summit to the shore. One of my most arduous tasks was to climb these ravines and collect wood, but fortunately a fire was not often required. The climate was warm all the year round, and there seldom was a fall of rain; when it did fall, it was generally expended on the summit of the island, and did not reach us. At a certain period of the year, the birds came to the island in numberless quantities to breed, and their chief resort was some tolerably level ground--indeed, in many places, it was quite level with the accumulation of guano--which ground was divided from the spot where our cabin was built by a deep ravine. On this spot, which might perhaps contain about twenty acres or more, the sea birds would sit upon their eggs, not four inches apart from each other, and the whole surface of this twenty acres would be completely covered with them. There they would remain from the time of the laying of the eggs, until the young ones were able to leave the nests and fly away with them. At the season when the birds were on the island, all was gaiety, bustle, and noise, but after their departure it was quiet and solitude. I used to long for their arrival, and was delighted with the animation which gladdened the island, the male birds diving in every direction after fish, wheeling and soaring in the air, and uttering loud cries, which were responded to by their mates on the nests. But it was also our harvest time; we seldom touched the old birds, as they were not in flesh, but as soon as the young ones were within a few days of leaving the nests, we were then busy enough. In spite of the screaming and the flapping of their wings in our faces, and the darting their beaks at our eyes, of the old birds, as we robbed them of their progeny, we collected hundreds every day, and bore as heavy a load as we could carry across the ravine to the platform in front of our cabin, where we busied ourselves in skinning them, splitting them, and hanging them out to dry in the sun. The air of the island was so pure that no putrefaction ever took place, and during the last fortnight of the birds coming on the island, we had collected a sufficiency for our support until their return on the following year. As soon as they were quite dry they were packed up in a corner of the cabin for use. These birds were, it may be said, the only produce of the island, with the exception of fish, and the eggs taken at the time of their first making their nests. Fish were to be taken in large quantities. It was sufficient to put a line over the rocks, and it had hardly time to go down a fathom before anything at the end of it was seized. Indeed, our means of taking them were as simple as their voracity was great. Our lines were composed of the sinews of the legs of the man-of-war birds, as I afterwards heard them named; and, as these were only about a foot long, it required a great many of them knotted together to make a line. At the end of the line was a bait fixed over a strong fish-bone, which was fastened to the line by the middle; a half-hitch of the line round one end kept the bone on a parallel with the line until the bait was seized, when the line being taughtened, the half-hitch slipped off and the bone remained crossways in the gullet of the fish, which was drawn up by it. Simple as this contrivance was, it answered as well as the best hook, of which I had never seen one at that time. The fish were so strong and large, that, when I was young, the man would not allow me to attempt to catch them, lest they should pull me into the water; but, as I grew bigger, I could master them. Such was our food from one year's end to the other; we had no variety, except when occasionally we broiled the dried birds or the fish upon the embers, instead of eating them dried by the sun. Our raiment, such as it was, we were also indebted to the feathered tribe for. The birds were skinned with the feathers on, and their skins sewn together with sinews, and a fish-bone by way of a needle. These garments were not very durable, but the climate was so fine that we did not suffer from the cold at any season of the year. I used to make myself a new dress every year when the birds came; but by the time that they returned, I had little left of my last year's suit, the fragments of which might be found among the rocky and steep parts of the ravine where we used to collect firing. Living such a life, with so few wants, and those periodically and easily supplied, hardly varied from one year's end to another, it may easily be imagined that I had but few ideas. I might have had more, if my companion had not been of such a taciturn and morose habit; as it was, I looked at the wide ocean, and the sky, and the sun, moon, and stars, wondering, puzzled, afraid to ask questions, and ending all by sleeping away a large portion of my existence. We had no tools except the old ones, which were useless--no employment of any kind. There was a book, and I asked what it was for and what it was, but I got no answer. It remained upon the shelf, for if I looked at it I was ordered away, and at last I regarded it with a sort of fear, as if it were a kind of incomprehensible animal. The day was passed in idleness and almost silence; perhaps not a dozen sentences were exchanged in the twenty-four hours. My companion always the same, brooding over something which appeared ever to occupy his thoughts, and angry if roused up from his reverie. Chapter II The reader must understand that the foregoing remarks are to be considered as referring to my position and amount of knowledge when I was seven or eight years old. My master, as I called him, was a short square-built man, about sixty years of age, as I afterwards estimated from recollection and comparison. His hair fell down his back in thick clusters and was still of a dark color, and his beard was full two feet long and very bushy; indeed, he was covered with hair, wherever his person was exposed. He was, I should say, very powerful had he had occasion to exert his strength, but with the exception of the time at which we collected the birds, and occasionally going up the ravine to bring down faggots of wood, he seldom moved out of the cabin unless it was to bathe. There was a pool of salt water of about twenty yards square, near the sea, but separated from it by a low ridge of rocks, over which the waves only beat when the sea was rough and the wind on that side of the island. Every morning almost we went down to bathe in that pool, as it was secure from the sharks, which were very numerous. I could swim like a fish as early as I can recollect, but whether I was taught, or learnt myself, I cannot tell. Thus was my life passed away; my duties were trifling; I had little or nothing to employ myself about, for I had no means of employment. I seldom heard the human voice, and became as taciturn as my companion. My amusements were equally confined--looking down into the depths of the ocean, as I lay over the rocky wall which girded the major portion of the island, and watching the motions of the finny tribes below, wondering at the stars during the night season, eating, and sleeping. Thus did I pass away an existence without pleasure and without pain. As for what my thoughts were I can hardly say, my knowledge and my ideas were too confined for me to have any food for thought. I was little better than a beast of the field, that lies down on the pasture after he is filled. There was one great source of interest however, which was, to listen to the sleeping talk of my companion, and I always looked forward to the time when the night fell and we repaired to our beds. I would lie awake for hours, listening to his ejaculations and murmured speech, trying in vain to find out some meaning in what he would say--but I gained little; he talked of "that woman"--appearing to be constantly with other men, and muttering about something he had hidden away. One night, when the moon was shining bright, he sat up in his bed, which, as I have before said, was on the floor of the cabin, and throwing aside the feathers upon which he had been lying, scratched the mould away below them and lifted up a piece of board. After a minute he replaced everything, and lay down again. He evidently was sleeping during the whole time. Here, at last, was something to feed my thoughts with. I had heard him say in his sleep that he had hidden something--this must be the hiding place. What was it? Perhaps I ought here to observe that my feelings towards this man were those of positive dislike, if not hatred; I never had received one kind word or deed from him, that I could recollect. Harsh and unfeeling towards me, evidently looking upon me with ill-will, and only suffering me because I saved him some trouble, and perhaps because he wished to have a living thing for his companion,--his feelings towards me were reciprocated by mine towards him. What age I was at the time my mother died, I know not, but I had some faint recollection of one who treated me with kindness and caresses, and these recollections became more forcible in my dreams, when I saw a figure very different from that of my companion (a female figure) hanging over me or leading me by the hand. How I used to try to continue those dreams, by closing my eyes again after I had woke up! And yet I knew not that they had been brought about by the dim recollection of my infancy; I knew not that the figure that appeared to me was the shadow of my mother; but I loved the dreams because I was treated kindly in them. But a change took place by the hand of Providence. One day, after we had just laid in our yearly provision of sea birds, I was busy arranging the skins of the old birds, on the flat rock, for my annual garment, which was joined together something like a sack, with holes for the head and arms to pass through; when, as I looked to seaward, I saw a large white object on the water. "Look, master," said I, pointing towards it. "A ship, a ship!" cried my companion. "Oh," thought I, "that is a ship; I recollect that he said they came here in a ship." I kept my eyes on her, and she rounded to. "Is she alive?" inquired I. "You're a fool," said the man; "come and help me to pile up this wood that we may make a signal to her. Go and fetch some water and throw on it, that there may be plenty of smoke. Thank God, I may leave this cursed hole at last!" I hardly understood him, but I went for the water and brought it in the mess kid. "I want more wood yet," said he. "Her head is this way, and she will come nearer." "Then she is alive," said I. "Away, fool!" said he, giving me a cuff on the head; "get some more water and throw on the wood." He then went into the cabin to strike a light, which he obtained by a piece of iron and flint, with some fine dry moss for tinder. While he was so employed, my eyes were fixed on the vessel, wondering what it could be. It moved through the water, turned this way and that. "It must be alive," thought I; "is it a fish or a bird?" As I watched the vessel, the sun was going down and there was not more than an hour's daylight. The wind was very light and variable, which accounted for the vessel so often altering her course. My companion came out with his hands full of smoking tinder, and putting it under the wood, was busy blowing it into a flame. The wood was soon set fire to, and the smoke ascended several feet into the air. "They'll see that," said he. "What then, it has eyes? it must be alive. Does it mind the wind?" inquired I, having no answer to my first remark, "for look there, the little clouds are coming up fast," and I pointed to the horizon, where some small clouds were rising up and which were, as I knew from experience and constantly watching the sky, a sign of a short but violent gale, or tornado, of which we usually had one, if not two, at this season of the year. "Yes; confound it," replied my companion, grinding his teeth, "it will blow her off! That's my luck." In the meantime, the smoke ascended in the air and the vessel approached nearer and nearer, until she was within, I suppose, two miles of the island, and then it fell quite calm. My companion threw more water on to increase the smoke, and the vessel now hauling up her courses, I perceived that there were people on board, and while I was arranging my ideas as to what the vessel might be, my companion cried out--"They see us, they see us! there's hope now. Confound it, I've been here long enough. Hurrah for old England!" and he commenced dancing and capering about like a madman. At last he said, "Look out and see if she sends a boat, while I go into the cabin." "What's a boat?" said I. "Out, you fool! tell me if you see anything," "Yes, I do see something," replied I. "Look at the squall coming along the water, it will be here very soon; and see how thick the clouds are getting up: we shall have as much wind and rain as we had the time before last, when the birds came." "Confound it," replied he, "I wish they'd lower a boat, at all events;" and so saying, he went into the cabin, and I perceived that he was busy at his bed-place. My eyes were still fixed upon the squall, as I watched it advancing at a furious speed on the surface of the water; at first it was a deep black line on the horizon, but as it approached the vessel, it changed to white; the surface of the water was still smooth. The clouds were not more than ten degrees above the horizon, although they were thick and opaque--but at this season of the year, these tornadoes, as I may call them, visited us; sometimes we had one, sometimes more, and it was only when these gusts came on that we had any rain below. On board of the vessel--I speak now from my after knowledge--they did not appear to be aware of the danger; the sails were all set and flapping against the masts. At last, I perceived a small object close to the vessel; this I presumed was the boat which my companion looked for. It was like a young vessel close to the old one, but I said nothing; as I was watching and wondering what effect the rising wind would have upon her, for the observations of my companion had made me feel that it was important. After a time, I perceived that the white sails were disappearing, and that the forms of men were very busy, and moving on board, and the boat went back to the side of the vessel. The fact is, they had not perceived the squall until it was too late, for in another moment almost, I saw that the vessel bowed down to the fury of the gale, and after that, the mist was so great that I couldn't see her any more. "Is she sending a boat, boy?" cried my companion. "I can't see her," replied I; "for she is hidden by the wind." As I said this, the tornado reached to where we stood, and threw me off my legs to the entrance of the cabin; and with the wind came down a torrent of rain, which drenched us, and the clouds covered the whole of the firmament, which became dark; the lightning darted in every direction, with peals of thunder which were deafening. I crawled into the cabin, into which the rain beat in great fury and flowed out again in a small river. My companion sat near me, lowering and silent. For two hours the tornado lasted without interruption; the sun had set, and the darkness was opaque. It was impossible to move against the force of the wind and the deluge of water which descended. Speak, we did not, but shut our eyes against the lightning, and held our fingers to our ears to deaden the noise of the thunder, which burst upon us in the most awful manner. My companion groaned at intervals, whether from fear, I know not; I had no fear, for I did not know the danger, or that there was a God to judge the earth. Gradually the fury of the gale abated, the rain was only heavy at intervals, and we could now hear the beating of the waves, as they dashed against the rocks beneath us. The sky also cleared up a little, and we could dimly discern the white foam of the breakers. I crawled out of the cabin, and stood upon the platform in front, straining my eyes to see the vessel. A flash of lightning, for a second, revealed her to me; she was dismasted, rolling in the awful breakers, which bore her down upon the high rocks, not a quarter of a mile from her. "There it is," exclaimed I, as the disappearance of the lightning left me in darkness, more opaque than ever. "She's done for," growled my companion, who, I was not till then aware, stood by my side. "No hopes this time, confound it!" Then he continued for some time to curse and swear awfully, as I afterwards discovered, for I did not then know what was cursing and swearing. "There she is again," said I, as another flash of lightning revealed the position of the vessel. "Yes, and she won't be there long; in five minutes she'll be dashed to atoms, and every soul perish." "What are souls?" inquired I. My companion gave me no reply. "I will go down to the rocks," said I, "and see what goes on." "Go," said he, "and share their fate." Chapter III I left him, and commenced a careful descent of the precipices by which we were surrounded, but, before I had gone fifty paces, another flash of lightning was followed up by a loud shriek, which arrested my steps. Where the noise came from, I could not tell, but I heard my companion calling to me to come back. I obeyed him, and found him standing where I had left him. "You called me, master?" "Yes, I did; take my hand, and lead me to the cabin." I obeyed him, wondering why he asked me so to do. He gained his bed-place, and threw himself down on it. "Bring the kid full of water," said he--"quick!" I brought it, and he bathed his head and face. After a time, he threw himself back upon the bed-place, and groaned heavily. "O God! it's all over with me," said he at last. "I shall live and die in this cursed hole." "What's the matter, master?" said I. He gave me no answer, but lay groaning and occasionally cursing. After a time, he was still, and then I went out again. The tornado was now over, and the stars were to be seen here and there, but still the wind was strong and the wild clouds flew fast. The shores of the island were one mass of foam, which was dashed high in the air and fell upon the black rocks. I looked for the vessel, and could see nothing--the day was evidently dawning, and I sat down and waited its coming. My companion was apparently asleep, for he lay without motion or noise. That some misfortune had happened, I was convinced, but what, I knew not, and I passed a long time in conjecture, dividing my thoughts between him and the vessel. At last the daylight appeared--the weather was moderating fast, although the waves still beat furiously against the rocky shore. I could see nothing of the vessel, and I descended the path, now slippery and insecure from the heavy fall of rain, and went as near to the edge of the rocks as the breaking billows would permit. I walked along, occasionally drenched by the spray, until I arrived where I had last seen the vessel. The waves were dashing and tossing about, as if in sport, fragments of timber, casks, and spars; but that was all I could see, except a mast and rigging, which lay alongside of the rocks, sometimes appearing above them on the summit of the waves, then descending far out of my sight, for I dared not venture near enough to the edge to look over. "Then the vessel is dashed to pieces, as my companion said," thought I. "I wonder how she was made." I remained about an hour on the rocks, and then turned back to the cabin. I found my companion awake, and groaning heavily. "There is no ship," said I, "nothing but pieces of wood floating about." "I know that," replied he; "but what do I care now?" "I thought by your making a smoke, that you did care." "Yes, I did then, but now I am blind, I shall never see a ship or anything else again. God help me! I shall die and rot on this cursed island." "Blind, what is blind?" inquired I. "The lightning has burned out my eyes, and I can see nothing--I cannot help myself--I cannot walk about--I cannot do anything, and I suppose you will leave me here to die like a dog." "Can't you see me?" "No, all is dark, dark as night, and will be as long as I live." And he turned on his bed-place and groaned. "I had hope, I lived in hope--it has kept me alive for many weary years, but now hope is gone, and I care not if I die to-morrow." And then he started up and turned his face towards me, and I saw that there was no light in his eyes. "Bring me some more water, do you hear?" said he, angrily. "Be quick, or I'll make you." But I now fully comprehended his condition, and how powerless he was. My feelings, as I have before said, were anything but cordial towards him, and this renewed violence and threatening manner had its effect. I was now, I suppose, about twelve or thirteen years old--strong and active. I had more than once felt inclined to rebel, and measure my strength against his. Irritated, therefore, at his angry language, I replied-- "Go for the water yourself." "Ah!" sighed he, after a pause of some seconds, "that I might have expected. But let me once get you into my hands, I'll make you remember it." "I care not if I were in your hands," replied I; "I am as strong as you." For I had thought so many a day, and meant to prove it. "Indeed! well, come here, and let us try." "No, no," replied I; "I'm not such a fool as you say I am--not that I'm afraid of you; for I shall have an axe in my hand always ready, and you will not find another." "I wish that I had tossed you over the cliffs when you were a child," said he, bitterly, "instead of nursing you and bringing you up." "Then why have you not been kind to me? As far back as I can remember you have always treated me ill; you have made me work for you; and yet never even spoken kindly to me. I have wanted to know things, and you have never answered my questions, but called me a fool, and told me to hold my tongue. You have made me hate you, and you have often told me how you hated me--you know you have." "It's true, quite true," replied he, as if talking to himself. "I have done all that he says, and I have hated him. But I have had cause. Come here, boy." "No," replied I; "do you come here. You have been master, and I have been boy, long enough. Now I am master and you are boy, and you shall find it so." Having said this, I walked out of the cabin and left him. He cried out, "Don't leave me," but I heeded him not, and sat down at the edge of the fiat ledge of the rock before the cabin. Looking at the white dancing waves, and deep in my own thoughts, I considered a long while how I should behave towards him. I did not wish him to die, as I knew he must if I left him. He could not obtain water from the rill without a great chance of falling over the cliff. In fact, I was now fully aware of his helpless state; to prove it to myself, I rose and shut my own eyes; tried if I could venture to move on such dangerous ground, and I felt sure that I could not. He was then in my power; he could do nothing; he must trust to me for almost everything. I had said, let what would follow, I would be master and he boy; but that could not be, as I must still attend upon him, or he would die. At last the thought came suddenly upon me--I will be master, nevertheless, for now he shall answer me all my questions, tell me all he knows, or he shall starve. He is in my power. He shall now do what I have ever tried to make him do, and he has ever refused. Having thus arranged my plans, I returned to the cabin, and said to him: "Hear what I say--I will be kind to you, and not leave you to starve, if you will do what I ask." "And what is that?" replied he. "For a long while I have asked you many questions, and you have refused to answer them. Instead of telling me what I would know, you have beaten or thrown stones at me, called me names, and threatened me. I now give you your choice--either you shall promise to answer every question that I put to you, or you may live how you can, for I shall leave you to help yourself. If you do as I wish, I will do all I can to help you, but if you will not, thank yourself for what may happen. Recollect, I am master now; so take your choice." "Well," replied he slowly, "it's a judgment upon me, and I must agree to it. I will do what you wish." "Well, then, to begin," said I, "I have often asked you what your name was, and what was mine. I must call you something, and Master I will not, for I am master now. What is your name?" He groaned, ground his teeth, and then said, "Edward Jackson." "Edward Jackson! very well; and my name?" "No, I cannot bear the name. I cannot say it," replied he, angrily. "Be it so," replied I. "Then I leave you." "Will you bring me some water for my eyes? they burn," said he. "No, I will not, nor anything else, unless you tell me my name." "Frank Henniker--and curses on it." "Frank Henniker. Well, now you shall have the water." I went out, filled a kid, and put it by his side, "There is the water, Jackson; if you want anything, call me. I shall be outside." "I have gained the mastery," thought I,--"it will be my turn now. He don't like to answer, but he shall, or he shall starve. Why does he feel so angry at my name? Henniker! what is the meaning of Henniker, I wonder? I will make him tell me. Yes, he shall tell me everything." I may here observe, that as for pity and compassion, I did not know such feelings. I had been so ill-treated, that I only felt that might was right; and this right I determined upon exercising to the utmost. I felt an inconceivable pleasure at the idea of my being the master, and he the boy. I felt the love of power, the pride of superiority. I then revolved in my mind the daily task which I would set him, before he should receive his daily sustenance. He should talk now as much as I pleased, for I was the master. I had been treated as a slave, and I was now fully prepared to play the tyrant. Mercy and compassion I knew not. I had never seen them called forth, and I felt them not. I sat down on the flat rock for some time, and then it occurred to me that I would turn the course of the water which fell into the hole at the edge of the cliff; so that if he crawled there, he would not be able to obtain any. I did so, and emptied the hole. The water was now only to be obtained by climbing up, and it was out of his power to obtain a drop. Food, of course, he could obtain, as the dried birds were all piled up at the farther end of the cabin, and I could not well remove them; but what was food without water? I was turning in my mind what should be the first question to put to him; and I had decided that I would have a full and particular account of how the vessel had been wrecked on the island, and who were my father and mother, and why I was named Henniker--when I was roused by hearing Jackson (as I shall in future call him) crying out, "Boy, boy!" "Boy, indeed," thought I--"no longer boy," and I gave no reply. Again he called, and at last he cried out, "Henniker," but I had been ruffled by his calling me boy, and I would not answer him. At last he fairly screamed my name, and then was silent. After a moment, I perceived that he crawled out of his bed-place, and feeling by the sides of the cabin, contrived on his hands and knees to crawl in the direction of the hole into which the water had previously been received; and I smiled at what I knew would be his disappointment when he arrived there. He did so at last: put his hand to feel the edge of the hole, and then down into it to feel for the water; and when he found that there was none, he cursed bitterly, and I laughed at his vexation. He then felt all the way down where the water had fallen, and found that the course of it had been stopped, and he dared not attempt anything further. He dashed his clenched hand against the rock. "Oh! that I had him in this grasp--if it were but for one moment. I would not care if I died the next." "I do not doubt you," replied I to him, above, "but you have not got me in your hands, and you will not. Go in to bed directly--quick," cried I, throwing a piece of rock at him, which hit him on the head. "Crawl back as fast as you can, you fool, or I'll send another at your head directly. I'll tame you, as you used to say to me." The blow on the head appeared to have confused him; but after a time he crawled back to his bed-place, and threw himself down with a heavy groan. Chapter IV I then went down to the water's edge to see if I could find anything from the wreck, for the water was smooth, and no longer washed over the rocks of the island. Except fragments of wood, I perceived nothing until I arrived at the pool where we were accustomed to bathe; and I found that the sea had thrown into it two articles of large dimensions--one was a cask of the size of a puncheon, which lay in about a foot of water farthest from the seaward; and the other was a seaman's chest. What these things were I did not then know, and I wish the reader to recollect that a great portion of this narrative is compiled from after knowledge. The cask was firm in the sand, and I could not move it. The chest was floating; I hauled it on the rocks without difficulty, and then proceeded to open it. It was some time before I could discover how, for I had never seen a lock, or a hinge in my life; but at last, finding that the lid was the only portion of the chest which yielded, I contrived, with a piece of rock, to break it open. I found in it a quantity of seamen's clothes, upon which I put no value; but some of the articles I immediately comprehended the use of, and they filled me with delight. There were two new tin pannikins, and those would hold water. There were three empty wine bottles, a hammer, a chisel, gimlet, and some other tools, also three or four fishing-lines many fathoms long. But what pleased me most were two knives, one shutting up, with a lanyard sheath to wear round the waist; and the other an American long knife, in a sheath, which is usually worn by them in the belt. Now, three or four years back, Jackson had the remains of a clasp knife--that is, there was about an inch of the blade remaining--and this, as may be supposed, he valued very much; indeed, miserable as the article was, in our destitute state it was invaluable. This knife he had laid on the rock when fishing, and it had been dragged into the sea as his line ran out; and he was for many days inconsolable for its loss. We had used it for cutting open the birds when we skinned them, and, indeed this remains of a knife had been always in request. Since the loss of it, we had had hard work to get the skins off the birds; I therefore well knew the value of these knives, which I immediately secured. The remainder of the articles in the chest, which was quite full, I laid upon the rocks, with the clothes, to dry; of most of them I did not know the use, and consequently did not prize them at the time. It was not until afterwards, when I had taken them to my companion, that I learned their value. I may as well here observe, that amongst these articles were two books, and, from the positive commands of my companion, not to touch the book in the cabin, I looked upon them with a degree of awe, and hesitated upon taking them in my hand; but, at last, I put them out to dry on the rocks, with the rest of the contents of the chest. I felt the knives, the blades were sharp; I put the lanyard of the clasp knife round my neck; the sheath knife, which was a formidable weapon, I made fast round my waist, with a piece of the fishing lines, which I cut off; and I then turned my steps towards the cabin, as night was coming on, though the moon was high in the heavens, and shining brightly. On my return, I found Jackson in his bed-place; he heard me come in, and asked me, in a quiet tone, whether I would bring him some water? I answered, "No, that I would not, for what he had said about me, and what he would do, if he got me into his power. I'll tame you," cried I. "I'm master now, as you shall find." "You may be," replied he, quickly, "but still, that is no reason why you should not let me have some water. Did I ever prevent you from having water?" "You never had to fetch it for me," I rejoined, "or you would not have taken the trouble. What trouble would you take for me, if I were blind now, and not you? I should become of no use to you, and you would leave me to die. You only let me live that you might make me work for you, and beat me cruelly. It's my turn now--you're the boy, and I'm the master." The reader must remember that I did not know the meaning of the word "boy"; my idea of it was, that it was in opposition to "master," and boy, with me, had the same idea as the word "slave." "Be it so," replied he, calmly. "I shall not want water long." There was a quietness about Jackson which made me suspect him, and the consequence was, that although I turned into my bed-place, which was on the ground at the side of the cabin opposite to his, I did not feel inclined to go to sleep, but remained awake, thinking of what had passed. It was towards morning when I heard him move; my face being turned that way, I had no occasion to stir to watch his motions. He crept very softly out of his bed-place towards me, listening, and advancing on his knees, not more than a foot every ten seconds. "You want me in your grasp," thought I, "come along," and I drew my American knife from its sheath, without noise, and awaited his approach, smiling at the surprise he would meet with. I allowed him to come right up to me; he felt the side of my bed, and then passed his right hand over to seize me. I caught his right hand with my left, and passing the knife across his wrist, more than half divided it from his arm. He gave a shriek of surprise and pain, and fell back. "He has a knife," exclaimed he, with surprise, holding his severed wrist with the other hand. "Yes, he has a knife, and more than one," replied I, "and you see that he knows how to use it. Will you come again? or will you believe that I'm master?" "If you have any charity or mercy, kill me at once," said he, as he sat up in the moonlight, in the centre of the floor of the cabin. "Charity and mercy," said I, "what are they? I never heard of them." "Alas! no," replied he, "I have shewed none--it's a judgment on me--a judgment on me for my many sins; Lord, forgive me! First my eyes, now my right hand useless. What next, O Lord of Heaven?" "Why, your other hand next," replied I, "if you try it again." Jackson made no reply. He attempted to crawl back to his bed, but, faint with loss of blood, he dropped senseless on the floor of the cabin. I looked at him, and satisfied that he would make no more attempts upon me, I turned away, and fell fast asleep. In about two hours, I awoke, and looking round, perceived him lying on the floor, where he had fallen the night before. I went to him and examined him--was he asleep, or was he dead? He lay in a pool of blood. I felt him, and he was quite warm. It was a ghastly cut on his wrist, and I thought, if he is dead, he will never tell me what I want to know. I knew that he bound up cuts to stop the blood. I took some feathers from the bed, and put a handful on the wound. After I had done it, I bound his wrist up with a piece of fishing-line I had taken to secure the sheath knife round my waist, and then I went for some water. I poured some down his throat; this revived him, and he opened his eyes. "Where am I?" said he faintly. "Where are you?--why, in the cabin," said I. "Give me some more water." I did so, for I did not wish to kill him. I wanted him to live, and to be in my power. After drinking the water he roused himself, and crawled back to his bed-place. I left him then, and went down to bathe. The reader may exclaim--What a horrid tyrant this boy is--why, he is as bad as his companion. Exactly--I was so--but let the reader reflect that I was made so by education. From the time that I could first remember, I had been tyrannised over; cuffed, kicked, abused and ill-treated. I had never known kindness. Most truly was the question put by me, "Charity and mercy--what are they?" I never heard of them. An American Indian has kind feelings--he is hospitable and generous--yet, educated to inflict, and receive, the severest tortures to and from, his enemies, he does the first with the most savage and vindictive feelings, and submits to the latter with indifference and stoicism. He has, indeed, the kindlier feelings of his nature exercised; still, this changes him not. He has been from earliest infancy brought up to cruelty, and he cannot feel that it is wrong. Now, my position was worse. I had never seen the softer feelings of our nature called into play; I knew nothing but tyranny and oppression, hatred and vengeance. It was therefore not surprising that, when my turn came, I did to others as I had been done by. Jackson had no excuse for his treatment of me, whereas, I had every excuse for retaliation. He did know better, I did not. I followed the ways of the world in the petty microcosm in which I had been placed. I knew not of mercy, of forgiveness, charity, or goodwill. I knew not that there was a God; I only knew that might was right, and the most pleasurable sensation which I felt, was that of anxiety for vengeance, combined with the consciousness of power. After I had bathed, I again examined the chest and its contents. I looked at the books without touching them. "I must know what these mean," thought I, "and I will know." My thirst for knowledge was certainly most remarkable, in a boy of my age; I presume for the simple reason, that we want most what we cannot obtain; and Jackson having invariably refused to enlighten me on any subject, I became most anxious and impatient to satisfy the longing which increased with my growth. Chapter V For three days did Jackson lie on his bed; I supplied him with water, but he did not eat anything. He groaned heavily at times, and talked much to himself, and I heard him ask forgiveness of God, and pardon for his sins. I noted this down for an explanation. On the third day, he said to me, "Henniker, I am very ill. I have a fever coming on, from the wound you have given me. I do not say that I did not deserve it, for I did, and I know that I have treated you ill, and that you must hate me, but the question is, do you wish me to die?" "No," replied I; "I want you to live, and answer all my questions, and you shall do so." "I will do so," replied he. "I have done wrong, and I will make amends. Do you understand me? I mean to say, that I have been very cruel to you, and now I will do all you wish, and answer every question you may put to me, as well as I can." "That is what I want," replied I. "I know it is, but my wound is festering and must be washed and dressed. The feathers make it worse. Will you do this for me?" I thought a little, and recollected that he was still in my power, as he could not obtain water. I replied, "Yes, I will." "The cord hurts it, you must take it off." I fetched the kid of water, and untied the cord, and took away the feathers, which had matted together with the flow of blood, and then I washed the wound carefully. Looking into the wound, my desire of information induced me to say, "What are these little white cords, which are cut through?" "They are the sinews and tendons," replied he, "by which we are enabled to move our hands and fingers; now these are cut through, I shall not have the use of my hand again." "Stop a moment," said I, rising up, "I have just thought of something." I ran down to the point where the chest lay, took a shirt from the rock, and brought it back with me, and tearing it into strips, I bandaged the wound. "Where did you get that linen?" said Jackson. I told him. "And you got the knife there, too," said he, with a sigh. I replied in the affirmative. As soon as I had finished, he told me he was much easier, and said, "I thank you." "What is I thank you?" replied I. "It means that I am grateful for what you have done." "And what is grateful?" inquired I again. "You never said those words to me before." "Alas, no," replied he; "it had been better if I had. I mean that I feel kindly towards you, for having bound up my wound, and would do anything for you if I had the power. It means, that if I had my eyesight, as I had a week ago, and was master, as I then was, that I would not kick nor beat you, but be kind to you. Do you understand me?" "Yes," replied I, "I think I do; and if you tell me all I want to know I shall believe you." "That I will as soon as I am well enough; but now I am too ill--you must wait a day or two, till the fever has left me." Satisfied with Jackson's promise, I tended him carefully, and washed and dressed his wound for the two following days. He said that he felt himself much better, and his language to me was so kind and conciliatory, that I hardly knew what to make of it; but this is certain, that it had a good effect upon me, and gradually the hatred and ill-will that I bore to him wore off, and I found myself handling him tenderly, and anxious not to give him more pain than was necessary, yet without being aware that I was prompted by better feelings. It was on the third morning that he said,-- "I can talk to you now; what do you want to know?" "I want to know the whole story of how we came to this island, who my father and mother were, and why you said that you hated me and my name?" "That," said Jackson, after a silence of a few minutes, "will take some time. I could soon tell it you if it were not for the last question,--why I hated your name? But the history of your father is so mixed up with mine, that I cannot well tell one without the other. I may as well begin with my own history, and that will be telling you both." "Then tell it me," replied I, "and do not tell me what is not true." "No; I will tell you exactly what it was," replied Jackson; "you may as well know it as not.--Your father and I were both born in England, which you know is your country by birth, and you also know that the language we talk is English." "I did not know it. Tell me something about England before you say any more." I will not trouble the reader with Jackson's description of England, or the many questions which I put to him. It was night-fall before he had finished answering, and before I was satisfied with the information imparted. I believe that he was very glad to hold his tongue, for he complained of being tired, and I dressed his wound and wetted the bandage with cold water for him before he went to sleep. I can hardly describe to the reader the effect which this uninterrupted flow of language had upon me; I was excited in a very strange way, and for many nights after could not sleep for hours. I may say here, I did not understand a great proportion of the meaning of the words used by Jackson; but I gathered it from the context, as I could not always be interrupting him. It is astonishing how fast ideas breed ideas, and how a word, the meaning of which I did not understand when it was first used, became by repetition clear and intelligible; not that I always put the right construction on it, but if I did not find it answer when used at another time to my former interpretation of it, I would then ask and obtain an explanation. This did not however occur very often. As for this first night, I was positively almost drunk with words, and remained nearly the whole of it arranging and fixing the new ideas that I had acquired. My feelings towards Jackson also were changed--that is, I no longer felt hatred or ill-will against him. These were swallowed up in the pleasure which he had afforded me, and I looked upon him as a treasure beyond all price,--not but that many old feelings towards him returned at intervals, for they were not so easily disposed of, but still I would not for the world have lost him until I had obtained from him all possible knowledge; and if his wound did not look well when I removed the bandage, I was much more distressed than he was. Indeed, there was every prospect of our ultimately being friends, from our mutual dependence on each other. It was useless on his part, in his present destitute condition, to nourish feelings of animosity against one on whose good offices he was now so wholly dependant, or on my part, against one who was creating for me, I may say, new worlds for imagination and thought to dwell on. On the following morning, Jackson narrated in substance (as near as I can recollect) as follows:-- "I was not intended for a sailor. I was taught at a good school, and when I was ten years old, I was put into a house of business as a clerk, where I remained at the desk all day long, copying into ledgers and day-books, in fact, writing what was required of me. This house was connected with the South American trade." "Where is South America?" said I. "You had better let me tell my story," replied Jackson, "and after I have done, you can ask any questions you like, but if you stop me, it will take a week to finish it; yesterday we lost the whole day." "That's very true," replied I, "then I will do so." "There were two other clerks in the counting-house--the head clerk, whose name was Manvers, and your father, who was in the counting-house but a few months before me. Our master, whose name was Evelyn, was very particular with both your father and myself, scanning our work daily, and finding fault when we deserved it. This occasioned a rivalry between us, which made us both very active, and I received praise quite as often as he did. On Sunday, Mr Evelyn used to ask your father and me to spend the day. We went to church in the forenoon and dined with him. He had a daughter a little younger than we were. She was your mother. Both of us, as we grew up, were very attentive to her, and anxious to be in her good graces. I cannot say which was preferred at first, but I rather think that if anything I was the favourite, during the first two years of our being acquainted with her. I was more lively and a better companion than your father, who was inclined to be grave and thoughtful. We had been about four years in the counting-house, when my mother died--my father had been dead some time before I went into it--and at her death I found my share of her property to amount to about L2500. But I was not yet twenty-one years of age. I could not receive it for another year. Mr Evelyn, who had till then every reason to be satisfied with my conduct, used to joke with me, and say that as soon as I was of age, he would allow me, if I chose it, to put the money in the business, and thus obtain a small share in it--and such was my intention, and I looked forward to bright prospects and the hope of one day being married to your mother, and I have no doubt but such would have been the case, had I still conducted myself properly. But, before I was of age, I made some very bad acquaintances, and soon ran into expenses which I could not afford--and the worst was, that I contracted a habit of sitting up late at night, and drinking to excess, which I never have since got over, which proved my ruin then, and has proved my ruin through life. This little fortune of mine not only gave me consequence, but was the cause of my thinking very highly of myself. I now was more particular in my attentions to Miss Evelyn, and was graciously received by her father; neither had I any reason to complain of my treatment from the young lady. As for your father, he was quite thrown into the back-ground. He had no property nor hope of any, except what he might hereafter secure by his diligence and good conduct; and the attention I received from Mr Evelyn, and also the head clerk, who had an idea that I was to be a partner and consequently would become his superior, made him very melancholy and unhappy--for I believe that then he was quite as much in love with Miss Evelyn as I was myself; and I must tell you, that my love for her was unbounded, and she well deserved it. But all these happy prospects were overthrown by my own folly. As soon as it was known that I had property left to me, I was surrounded by many others who requested to be introduced to me, and my evenings were passed in what I considered very good company, but which proved the very reverse. By degrees I took to gambling, and after a time, lost more money than I could afford to pay. This caused me to have recourse to a Jew, who advanced me loans at a large interest to be repaid at my coming of age. Trying to win back my money, I at last found myself indebted to the Jew for the sum of nearly L1000. The more that I became involved, the more reckless I became. Mr Evelyn perceived that I kept late hours, and looked haggard, as I well might; indeed, my position had now become very awkward. Mr Evelyn knew well the sum that had been left me, and how was I to account to him for the deficiency, if he proposed that I should put it into the business? I should be ruined in his opinion, and he never, I was convinced, would entrust the happiness of his daughter to a young man who had been guilty of such irregularities. At the same time, my love for her nearly amounted to adoration. Never was there a more miserable being than I was for the last six months previous to my coming of age, and to drown my misery I plunged into every excess, and seldom, if ever, went to bed but in a state of intoxication. Scheme after scheme did I propose to enable me to conceal my fault, but I could hit upon nothing. The time approached; I was within a few days of coming of age, when Mr Evelyn sent for me and then spoke to me seriously, saying, that out of regard to the memory of my father, with whom he had been very intimate, he was willing to allow me to embark my little capital in the business, and that he hoped that by my good conduct and application I might soon become a useful partner. I stammered some reply which surprised him; and he asked me to be more explicit. I stated that I considered my capital too small to be of much use in such a business as his, and that I preferred trying some quick method of doubling it; that as soon as I had so done I would accept his offer with gratitude. 'As you please,' replied he coolly; 'but take care, that in risking all, you do not lose all. Of course, you are your own master,' and so saying, he left me, apparently much displeased and mortified. But circumstances occurred, which exposed the whole affair. When in company with my evening companions, I stated my intentions of trying my fortune in the East Indies, not seriously, but talking at random. This came to the ears of the Jew of whom I had borrowed the money; he thought that I intended to leave the kingdom without taking up my bonds, and immediately repaired to Mr Evelyn's counting-house, to communicate with the head clerk, and ascertain if the report was correct, stating also the sums I was indebted to him. The head clerk informed Mr Evelyn, and on the day upon which I became twenty-one years of age, he sent for me into his private room, and, after some remonstrances, to which I replied very haughtily, it ended in my being dismissed. The fact was, that Mr Evelyn had, since his last interview with me, made inquiries, and finding out I had been living a very riotous life, he had determined upon my leaving his service. As soon as my first burst of indignation was over, I felt what I had lost; my attachment to Miss Evelyn was stronger than ever, and I bitterly deplored my folly, but after a time, as usual, I had recourse to the bottle, and to drowning my cares in intemperance. I tried very hard to obtain an interview with Miss Evelyn previous to my quitting the house, but this Mr Evelyn would not permit, and a few days after, sent his daughter away, to reside, for a time with a relation in the country. I embarked my capital in the wine trade, and, could I have restrained myself from drinking, should have been successful, and in a short time might have doubled my property, as I stated to Mr Evelyn; but now, I had become an irreclaimable drunkard, and when that is the case, all hope is over. My affairs soon became deranged, and, at the request of my partner, they were wound up, and I found myself with my capital of L1500 reduced to L1000. With this, I resolved to try my fortune in shipping; I procured a share in a brig, and sailed in her myself. After a time, I was sufficiently expert to take the command of her, and might have succeeded, had not my habit of drinking been so confirmed. When at Ceylon, I fell sick, and was left behind. The brig was lost, and as I had forgotten to insure my portion of her, I was ruined. I struggled long, but in vain--intemperance was my curse, my bane, the millstone at my neck, which dragged me down: I had education, talents, and energy, and at one time, capital, but all were useless; and thus did I sink down, from captain of a vessel to mate, from mate to second mate, until I at last found myself a drunken sailor before the mast. Such is my general history; to-morrow, I will let you know how, and in what way, your father and I met again, and what occurred, up to this present time." But I was too much bewildered and confused with what he had told me, to allow him to proceed, as he proposed. "No, no," replied I. "I now recollect all you have said, although I do not understand. You must first answer my questions, as to the meaning of words I never heard of before. I cannot understand what money is, what gaming is, and a great many more things you have talked about, but I recollect, and can repeat every word that you have said. To-morrow, I will recall it all over, and you shall tell me what I cannot make out; after that, you can go on again." "Very well," replied he, "I don't care how long it takes me to answer your questions, for I am not very anxious to tell all about your father and myself." Chapter VI I can hardly describe to the reader the effect which these conversations with Jackson had upon me at first. If a prisoner were removed from a dark cell, and all at once introduced into a garden full of fruit and flowers, which he never before had an idea were in existence, he could not have been more filled with wonder, surprise, and pleasure. All was novelty and excitement, but, at the same time, to a great degree, above my comprehension. I had neither language nor ideas to meet it, and yet, I did, to a certain degree, comprehend. I saw not clearly, but sometimes as through a mist, at others through a dark fog, and I could discern little. Every day, however, my increased knowledge of language and terms gave me an increased knowledge of ideas. I gained more by context than I did by any other means, and as I was by degrees enlightened, so my thirst for information and knowledge became every day more insatiable. That much that I considered I understood was erroneous, is certain, for mine was a knowledge, as yet, of theory only. I could imagine to myself, as far as the explanation I received, what such an object might be, and, having made up my ideas on the matter, I was content; further knowledge, would however incline me to think, and occasionally to decide, that the idea I had formed was incorrect, and I would alter it. Thus did I flounder about in a sea of uncertainty, but still of exciting interest. If any one who has been educated, and has used his eyes in a civilised country, reads an account of people and things hitherto unknown to him, he can, from the description and from his own general knowledge, form a very correct idea of what the country contains. But then he has used his eyes--he has seen those objects, between which the parallel or the difference has been pointed out. Now I had not that advantage. I had seen nothing but the sea, rocks, and sea-birds, and had but one companion. Here was my great difficulty, which, I may say, was never surmounted, until I had visited and mixed with civilisation and men. The difficulty, however, only increased my ardour. I was naturally of an ingenious mind, I had a remarkable memory, and every increase of knowledge was to me a source of delight. In fact, I had now something to live for, before I had not; and I verily believe, that if Jackson had been by any chance removed from me at this particular time, I should soon have become a lunatic, from the sudden drying up of the well which supplied my inordinate thirst for knowledge. Some days passed before I asked Jackson to continue his narrative, during which we lived in great harmony. Whether it was that he was deceiving me, and commanding his temper till he had an opportunity of revenge, or whether it was that his forlorn and helpless condition had softened him down, I could not say, but he appeared gradually to be forming an attachment to me; I was however on my guard at all times. His wounded wrist had now healed up, but his hand was quite useless, as all the tendons had been severed. I had therefore less to fear from him than before. At my request that he would continue his history, Jackson related as follows:-- "After sailing in vessel after vessel, and generally dismissed after the voyage for my failing of intemperance, I embarked on board a ship bound to Chili, and after having been on the coast for nearly a year, we were about to proceed home with a cargo, when we anchored at Valdivia, previous to our homeward voyage, as we had some few articles to ship at that port. We were again ready for sea, when we heard from the captain, that he had agreed to take two passengers, a gentleman and his wife, who wished to proceed to England. The cabin was cleared out, and every preparation made to receive them on board, and in the evening the boat was sent on shore for the luggage. I went in the boat, as I thought it likely that the gentleman would give the boat's crew something to drink; nor was I wrong--he gave us four dollars, which we spent immediately in one of the ventas, and were all more or less intoxicated. It had been arranged that the luggage should first be carried on board, and after that, we were to return for the passengers, as we were to sail early in the morning. We pulled off with the luggage, but on our arrival on board, I was so drunk, that the captain would not allow me to return in the boat, and I knew nothing of what had passed until I was roused up the next morning to assist in getting the ship under weigh. We had been under weigh two or three hours, and were clearing the land fast, when the gentleman passenger came on neck; I was then coiling down a rope on the quarter-deck, and as he passed by me, I looked at him, and I recognised him immediately as your father. Years had passed--from a stripling he had grown a man, but his face was not to be mistaken. There he was, apparently a gentlemen of property and consideration; and I, what was I? a drunken sailor. All I hoped was, that he would not recognise me. Shortly afterwards he went down again, and returned escorting his wife on deck. Again I took a furtive curious glance, and perceived at once that she was that Miss Evelyn whom I had once so loved, and by my folly had lost. This was madness. As they stood on the deck enjoying the cool sea breeze, for the weather was delightfully fine, the captain came up and joined them. I was so confused at my discovery, that I knew not what I was about, and I presume was doing something very awkwardly; for the captain said to me--'Jackson, what are you about, you drunken hound? I suppose you are not sober yet.' At the mention of my name, your father and mother looked at me, and as I lifted up my head to reply to the captain, they eyed me earnestly, and then spoke to each other in a low tone; after which they interrogated the captain. I could not hear what they said, but I was certain they were talking about me, and that they had suspected, if they had not recognised me. I was ready to sink to the deck, and, at the same time, I felt a hatred of your father enter my heart, of which, during his life, I never could divest myself. It was as I supposed; your father had recognised me, and the following morning he came up to me as I was leaning over the gunwale amidships, and addressed me,--'Jackson,' said he, 'I am sorry to find you in this situation. You must have been very unfortunate to have become so reduced. If you will confide your history to me, perhaps I may, when we arrive in England, be able to assist you, and it really will give me great pleasure.' I cannot say that I replied very cordially. 'Mr Henniker,' said I, 'you have been fortunate by all appearances, and can therefore afford compassion to those who have not been so; but, sir, in our positions, I feel as if pity was in reality a sort of triumph, and an offer of assistance an insult. I am content with my present position, and will at all events not change it by your interference. I earn my bread honestly. You can do no more. Times may change yet. It's a long road that has no turning to it. I wish you a good morning.' So saying, I turned from him, and walked away forward, with my heart full of bitterness and anger. From that hour he never spoke to me or noticed me again, but the captain was more severe upon me, and I ascribed his severity most unjustly to your father. We were about to go round Cape Horn, when the gale from the S.E. came on, which ended in the loss of the vessel. For several days we strove up against it, but at last the vessel, which was old, leaked so much from straining, that we were obliged to bear up and run before it, which we did for several days, the wind and sea continuing without intermission. At last we found ourselves among these islands, and were compelled occasionally to haul to the wind to clear them. This made her leak more and more, until at last she became water logged, and we were forced to abandon her in haste during the night, having no time to take anything with us; we left three men on board, who were down below. By the mercy of Heaven we ran the boat into the opening below, which was the only spot where we could have landed. I think I had better stop now, as I have a good deal to tell you yet." "Do then," replied I; "and now I think of it, I will bring up the chest and all the things which were in it, and you shall tell me what they are." I went down and returned with the clothes and linen. There were eight pair of trousers, nine shirts, besides the one I had torn up to bandage his wounds with, two pair of blue trousers, and two jackets, four white duck frocks, some shoes, and stockings. Jackson felt them one by one with his hands, and told me what they were, and how worn. "Why don't you wear some of them?" inquired I. "If you will give me leave, I will," replied he. "Let me have a duck frock and a pair of trousers." I handed the articles to him, and then went back for the rest which I had left on the rocks. When I returned, with my arms full, I found that he had put them on, and his other clothes were beside him. "I feel more like a Christian now," said he. "A Christian," said I, "what is that?" "I will tell you by-and-bye. It is what I have not been for a long, long while," replied he. "Now, what have you brought this time?" "Here," said I, "what is this?" "This is a roll of duck, to make into frocks and trousers," replied he. "That is bees'-wax." He then explained to me all the tools, sailing-needles, fish-hooks, and fishing-lines, some sheets of writing-paper, and two pens, I had brought up with me. "All these are very valuable," said he, after a pause, "and would have added much to our comfort, if I had not been blind." "There are more things yet," said I; "I will go and fetch them." This time I replaced the remaining articles, and brought up the chest. It was a heavy load to carry up the rocks, and I was out of breath when I arrived and set it down on the cabin-floor. "Now, I have the whole of them," said I. "Now, what is this?" "That is a spy-glass--but, alas! I am blind--but I will show you how to use it, at all events." "Here are two books," said I. "Give them to me," said he, "and let me feel them. This one is a Bible, I am quite sure by its shape, and the other is, I think, a Prayer-book." "What is a Bible, and what is a Prayer-book?" replied I. "The Bible is the Word of God, and the Prayer-book teaches us how to pray to him." "But who is God? I have often heard you say, 'O God!' and 'God damn'--but who is he?" "I will tell you to-night before we go to sleep," replied Jackson, gravely. "Very well, I shall remind you. I have found a little box inside the chest, and it is full of all manner of little things--strings and sinews." "Let me feel them?" I put a bundle into his hand. "These are needles and thread for making and mending clothes--they will be useful bye-and-bye." At last the whole contents of the chest were overhauled and explained: I could not well comprehend the glass bottles, or how they were made, but I put them with the pannikins, and everything else, very carefully into the chest again, and hauled the chest to the farther end of the cabin, out of the way. Before we went to bed that night, Jackson had to explain to me who God was, but as it was only the commencement of several conversations on the subject, I shall not at present trouble the reader with what passed between us. Jackson appeared to be very melancholy after the conversation we had had on religious matters, and was frequently agitated and muttering to himself. Chapter VII I did not on the following day ask him to resume his narrative relative to my father and mother, as I perceived that he avoided it, and I already had so far changed as to have consideration for his feelings. Another point had now taken possession of my mind, which was, whether it were possible to learn to read those books which I had found in the chest, and this was the first question that I put to Jackson when we arose on that morning. "How is it possible?" replied he. "Am I not blind--how can I teach you?" "Is there no way?" replied I, mournfully. "Let me think.--Yes, perhaps there is a way--at all events we will try. You know which book I told you was the Prayer-book?" "Oh yes! the small, thin one." "Yes--fetch it here. Now," said he, when I put it into his hand, "tell me; is there a straight line down the middle of the page of the book, so that the words and letters are on both sides of it?" "Yes, there is," replied I; "in every page, as you call it, there is a black line down the middle, and words and letters (I suppose they are) on both sides." "And among the letters, there are some larger than others, especially at the side nearest to the margin." "I don't know what margin is." "I mean here," replied he, pointing to the margin of the page. "Yes, there are." "Well then, I will open the book as near as I can guess at the Morning service, and you tell me if you can find any part of the writing which appears to begin with a large round letter, like--what shall I say?--the bottom of a pannikin." "There is one on this leaf, quite round." "Very well--now get me a small piece of stick, and make a point to it." I did so, and Jackson swept away a small place on the floor of the cabin. "Now," said he, "there are many other prayers which begin with a round O, as the letter is called; so I must first ascertain if this one is the one I require. If it is, I know it by heart, and by that shall be able to teach you all the letters of the alphabet." "What's an alphabet?" "The alphabet is the number of letters invented to enable us to read and write. There are twenty-six of them. Now look, Frank; is the next letter to O the shape of this?" and he drew with the pointed stick the letter U on the ground. "Yes, it is," replied I. "And the next is like this," continued he, drawing the letter R, after he had smoothed the ground and effaced the U. "Yes," replied I. "Well then, to make sure, I had better go on. OUR is one word, and then there is a little space between; and next you come to an F." "Yes," replied I, looking at what he had drawn and comparing it with the letter in the book. "Then I believe that we are all right, but to make sure, we will go on for a little longer." Jackson then completed the word "Father," and "which art," that followed it, and then he was satisfied. "Now," said he, "out of that prayer I can teach you all the letters, and if you pay attention, you will learn to read." The whole morning was passed in my telling him the different letters, and I very soon knew them all. During the day, the Lord's Prayer was gone through, and as I learnt the words as well as the letters, I could repeat it before night; I read it over to him twenty or thirty times, spelling every word, letter by letter, until I was perfect. This was my first lesson. "Why is it called the Lord's Prayer?" said I. "Because, when our Lord Jesus Christ was asked by His followers in what way they ought to address God, He gave them this prayer to repeat, as being the most proper that they could use." "But who was Jesus Christ?" "He was the Son of God, as I told you yesterday, and at the same time equal with God." "How could he be equal with God, if, as you said yesterday, God sent him down to be killed?" "It was with his own consent that he suffered death; but all this is a mystery which you cannot understand at present." "What's a mystery?" "That which you cannot understand." "Do you understand it yourself?" "No, I do not; I only know that such is the fact, but it is above not only mine, but all men's comprehension. But I tell you honestly that, on these points, I am but a bad teacher; I have paid little attention to them during my life, and as far as religion is concerned, I can only give you the outlines, for I know no more." "But I thought you said, that people were to be punished or rewarded when they died, according as they had lived a bad or good life; and that to live a good life, people must be religious, and obey God's commands." "I did tell you so, and I told you the truth; but I did not tell you that I had led a bad life, as I have done, and that I have neglected to pay obedience to God's word and command." "Then you will be punished when you die, will you not?" "Alas! I fear so, child," replied Jackson, putting his hands up to his forehead and hiding his face. "But there is still time," continued he, after a pause, and "O God of mercy!" exclaimed he, "how shall I escape?" I was about to continue the conversation, but Jackson requested that I would leave him alone for a time. I went out and sat on a rock, watching the stars. "And those, he says, were all made by God,"--"and God made everything," thought I, "and God lives up beyond those stars." I thought for a long while, and was much perplexed. I had never heard anything of God till the night before, and what Jackson had told me was just enough to make me more anxious and curious; but he evidently did not like to talk on the subject. I tried after a time, if I could repeat the Lord's Prayer, and I found that I could, so I knelt down on the rock, and looking up to a bright star, as if I would imagine it was God, I repeated the Lord's Prayer to it, and then I rose up and went to bed. This was the first time that I had ever prayed. I had learnt so much from Jackson, latterly, that I could hardly retain what I had learnt; at all events, I had a very confused recollection in my brain, and my thoughts turned from one subject to another, till there was, for a time, a perfect chaos; by degrees things unravelled themselves, and my ideas became more clear; but still I laboured under that half-comprehension of things, which, in my position, was unavoidable. But now my mind was occupied with one leading object and wish, which was to learn to read. I thought no more of Jackson's history and the account he might give me of my father and mother, and was as willing as he was that it should be deferred for a time. What I required now was to be able to read the books, and to this object my whole mind and attention were given. Three or four hours in the earlier portion of the day, and the same time in the latter, were dedicated to this pursuit, and my attention never tired or flagged. In the course of, I think, about six weeks, I could read, without hesitation, almost any portion of the Bible or Prayer-Book. I required no more teaching from Jackson, who now became an attentive hearer, as I read to him every morning and evening a portion of the Gospel or Liturgy. But I cannot say that I understood many portions which I read, and the questions which I put to Jackson puzzled him not a little, and very often he acknowledged that he could not answer them. As I afterwards discovered this arose from his own imperfect knowledge of the nature of the Christian religion, which, according to his statement to me, might be considered to have been comprised in the following sentence: "If you do good on earth, you will go to heaven and be happy; if you do ill, you will go to hell and be tormented. Christ came down from heaven to teach us what to do, and how to follow his example; and all that we read in the Bible we must believe." This may be considered as the creed imparted to me at that time. I believe that Jackson, like many others, knew no better, and candidly told me what he himself had been taught to believe. But the season for the return of the birds arrived, and our stock of provender was getting low. I was therefore soon obliged to leave my books, and work hard for Jackson and myself. As soon as the young birds were old enough, I set to my task. And now I found how valuable were the knives which I had obtained from the seaman's chest; indeed, in many points I could work much faster. By tying the neck and sleeves of a duck frock, I made a bag, which enabled me to carry the birds more conveniently, and in greater quantities at a time, and with the knives I could skin and prepare a bird in one quarter of the time. With my fishing-lines also, I could hang up more to dry at one time, so that, though without assistance, I had more birds cured in the same time than when Jackson and I were both employed in the labour. The whole affair, however, occupied me from morning to evening for more than three weeks, by which time the major portion of my provender was piled up at the back of the cabin. I did not, however, lose what I had gained in reading, as Jackson would not let me go away in the morning, or retire to my bed in the evening, without my reading to him a portion of the Bible. Indeed, he appeared to be uncomfortable if I did not do so. At last, the work was ended, and then I felt a strong desire return to hear that portion of Jackson's history connected with my father and mother, and I told him so. He did not appear to be pleased with my communication, or at all willing to proceed, but as I pressed him hard and showed some symptoms of resolution and rebellion, he reluctantly resumed his narrative. Chapter VIII "I wish you to understand," said he, "that my unwillingness to go on with my history, proceeds from my being obliged to make known to you the hatred that subsisted between your father and me; but if you will recollect, that we both had, in our early days, been striving to gain the same object--I mean your mother--and also that he had taken, as it were, what I considered to have been my place, in other points--that he had been successful in life, and I had been unfortunate, you must not then be surprised at my hating him as I did." "I understand nothing about your feelings," replied I; "and why he injured you by marrying my mother, I cannot see." "Why I loved her." "Well, suppose you did, I don't know what love is, and therefore cannot understand it, so tell me the story." "Well then, when I left off, I told you that we had ventured to land upon this island by running the boat into the bathing-pond, but in so doing, the boat was beaten to pieces, and was of no use afterwards. We landed, eight persons in all--that is, the captain, your father, the carpenter, mate, and three seamen, besides your mother. We had literally nothing in the boat except three axes, two kids, and the two pannikins, which we have indeed now, but as for provisions or even water we had none of either. Our first object, therefore, was to search the island to obtain water, and this we soon found at the rill which now runs down by the side of the cabin. It was very fortunate for us that we arrived exactly at the time that the birds had come on the island, and had just laid their eggs; if not, we must have perished with hunger, for we had not a fish-hook with us or even a fathom of line. "We collected a quantity of eggs, and made a good meal, although we devoured them raw. While we were running about, or rather climbing about, over the rocks, to find out what chance of subsistence we might have on the island, the captain and your father remained with your mother, who sat down in a sheltered spot near to the bathing-pool. On our return in the evening, the captain called us all together that he might speak to us, and he said that if we would do well we must all act in concert; that it also would be necessary that one should have the command and control of the others; that without such was the case, nothing would go on well;--and he asked us if we did not consider that what he said was true. We all agreed, although I, for one, felt little inclination to do so, but as all the rest said so, I raised no objections. The captain then told us that as we were all of one opinion, the next point, was to decide as to who should have the command--he said, that if it had been on ship-board, he of course would have taken it himself, but now we were on shore he thought that Mr Henniker was a much more competent person than he was, and he therefore proposed that the command should be given to him, and he, for one, would willingly be under his orders. To this proposal, the carpenter and mate immediately agreed, and at last two of the seamen. I was left alone, but I resisted, saying, that I was not going to be ordered about by a landsman, and that if I were to obey orders, it must be from a thorough-bred seaman. The other two sailors were of my way of thinking, I was sure, although they had given their consent, and I hoped that they would join me, which they appeared very much inclined to do. Your father spoke very coolly, modestly, and prudently. He pointed out that he had no wish to take the command, and that he would cheerfully serve under the captain of the vessel, if it would be more satisfactory to all parties that such should be the case. But the captain and the others were positive, saying that they would not have their choice disputed by such a drunken vagabond as I was, and that if I did not like to remain with them, I might go to any part of the island that I chose. This conference ended by my getting in a passion, and saying that I would not be under your father's orders; and I was seizing one of the axes to go off with it, when the captain caught my arm and wrested it from me, stating that the axe was his property, and then telling me that I was welcome to go where I pleased. "I left them, therefore, and went away by myself to where the birds were hatching, as I wished to secure a supply of eggs. When the night closed in, I lay down upon the guano, and felt no cold, for the gale was now over, and the weather was very mild. "The next morning, when I awoke, I found that the sun had been up some time. I looked for the rest of my companions whom I had quitted, and perceived that they were all busily at work. The sea was quite calm; and, when the vessel went down after we left, many articles had floated, and had been washed to the island. Some of the men were busy collecting spars and planks, which were near the rocks, and pushing them along with the boat-hooks to the direction of the bathing pond, where they hauled them over the ridge, and secured them. Your father and mother, with the carpenter, were on this ledge where we now are, having selected it as a proper place for building a shelter, and were apparently very busy. The captain and one of the seamen were carrying up what spars and timber could be collected to where your father was standing with the carpenter. All appeared to be active, and working into each others hands; and I confess that, as I looked on, I envied them, and wished that I had been along with them; but I could not bear the idea of obeying any orders given by your father; and this alone prevented my joining them, and making my excuses for what I had done and said the previous night. I therefore swallowed some more birds' eggs raw, and sat down in the sun, looking at them as they worked. "I soon perceived that the carpenter had commenced operations. The frame of this cabin was, with the assistance of your father, before it was noon, quite complete and put up; and then they all went down to the bathing place, where the boat was lying with her bottom beaten out. They commenced taking her to pieces and saving all the nails; the other men carried up the portions of the boat as they were ripped off, to where the frame of the cabin had been raised. I saw your mother go up with a load in her hand, which I believed to be the nails taken from the boat. In a couple of hours the boat was in pieces and carried up, and then your father and most of the men went up to assist the carpenter. I hardly need tell what they did, as you have the cabin before you. The roof, you see, is mostly built out of the timbers of the boat; and the lower part out of heavier wood; and a very good job they made of it. Before the morning closed in, one of the sides of the cabin was finished; and I saw them light a fire with the chips that had been cut off with the axes, and they then dressed the eggs and birds which they had collected the first day. "There was one thing which I had quite forgotten when I mutinied and left my companions, which was, the necessity of water to drink; and I now perceived that they had taken possession of the spot where the only water had as yet been found. I was suffering very much from thirst towards the close of the day, and I set off up the ravine to ascertain if there was none to be found in that direction. Before night I succeeded in finding some, as you know, for you have often drunk from the spring when you have gone up for firewood. This gave me great encouragement, for I was afraid that the want of water would have driven me to submission. By way of bravado, I tore off, and cut with my knife, as many boughs of the underwood on the ravine as I well could carry, and the next morning I built a sort of wigwam for myself on the guano, to show them that I had a house over my head as well as they had; but I built it farther up to the edge of the cliff, above the guano plain, so that I need not have any communication with those who I knew would come for eggs and birds for their daily sustenance. "Before the night of the following day set in, the cabin was quite finished. "The weather became warmer every day, and I found it very fatiguing to have to climb the ravine two or three times a day to procure a drink of water, for I had nothing to hold water in, and I thought that it would be better that I should take up my quarters in the ravine, and build myself a wigwam among the brushwood close to the water, instead of having to make so many journeys for so necessary an article. I knew that I could carry eggs in my hat and pocket-handkerchief sufficient for two or three days at one trip; so I determined that I would do so; and the next morning I went up the ravine, loaded with eggs, to take up my residence there. In a day or two I had built my hut of boughs, and made it very comfortable. I returned for a fresh supply of eggs on the third day, with a basket I had constructed out of young boughs, and which enabled me to carry a whole week's sustenance. Then I felt quite satisfied, and made up my mind that I would live as a hermit during my sojourn on the island, however long it might be; for I preferred anything to obeying the orders of one whom I detested as I did your father. "It soon was evident, however, how well they had done in selecting your father as their leader. They had fancied that the birds would remain on the island, and that thus they would always be able to procure a supply. Your father, who had lived so long in Chili, knew better, and that in a few weeks they would quit their nesting place. He pointed this out to them, showing them what a mercy it was that they had been cast away just at this time, and how necessary it was to make a provision for the year. But this they could not imagine that it was possible to do without salt to cure the birds with; but he knew how beef was preserved without salt on the continent, and showed them how to dry the birds in the sun. While therefore I was up in the ravine, they were busy collecting and drying them in large quantities, and before the time of the birds leaving they had laid up a sufficient supply. It was he also that invented the fishing lines out of the sinews of the legs of the birds, and your mother who knotted them together. At first, they caught fish with some hooks made of nails, but your father showed them the way to take them without a hook, as you have learnt from me, and which he had been shown by some of the Indians on the continent. Owing to your father, they were well prepared when the birds flew away with their young ones, while I was destitute. Previous to the flight, I had fared but badly, for the eggs contained the young birds half formed, and latterly so completely formed that I could not eat them, and as I had no fire and did not understand drying them, I had no alternative but eating the young birds raw, which was anything but pleasant. I consoled myself, however, with the idea that your father and mother and the rest were faring just as badly as myself, and I looked forward to the time when the birds would begin to lay eggs again, when I resolved to hoard up a much larger supply while they were fresh. But my schemes were all put an end to, for in two days, after a great deal of noise and flying about in circles, all the birds, young and old, took wing, and left me without any means of future subsistence. "This was a horrid discovery, and I was put to my wits' ends. I wandered over the guano place, and, after the third day of their departure, was glad to pick up even a dead bird with which to appease my hunger. At the same time, I wondered how my former companions got on, for I considered that they must be as badly off as I was. I watched them from behind the rocks, but I could perceive no signs of uneasiness. There was your mother sitting quietly on the level by the cabin, and your father or the captain talking with her. I perceived, however, that two of the party were employed fishing off the rocks, and I wondered where they got their fishing-lines, and at last I concluded that it was by catching fish that they supported themselves. This, however, did not help me--I was starving, and starvation will bring down the pride of any man. On the fifth day, I walked down to the rocks, to where one of the seamen was fishing, and having greeted him, I told him that I was starving, and asked for something to eat. "'I cannot help you,' replied he; 'I have no power to give anything away; it is more than I dare do. You must apply to Mr Henniker, who is the governor now. What a foolish fellow you were to mutiny, as you did; see what it has brought you to.' "'Why,' replied I, 'if it were not for fishing, you would not be better off than I am.' "'Oh yes we should be; but we have to thank him for that--without him, I grant, we should not have been. We have plenty of provisions, although we fish to help them out.' "This puzzled me amazingly, but there was no help for it. I could starve no longer, so up I went to the level where your father was standing with the captain, and in a swaggering sort of tone, said that I had come back, and wanted to join my comrades. The captain looked at me, and referred me to your father, who said that he would consult with the rest when they came to dinner, as without their permission he could do nothing, and then they both turned away. In the meantime I was ravenous with hunger, and was made more so by perceiving that two large fish were slowly baking on the embers of the fire, and that your mother was watching them; however, there was no help for it, and I sat down at some little distance, anxiously waiting for the return of the rest of the party, when my fate would be decided. My pride was now brought down so low that I could have submitted to any terms which might have been dictated. In about two hours they were all assembled to dinner, and I remained envying every morsel that they ate, until the repast was finished; when after some consultation, I was ordered to approach--which I did--and your father addressed me: 'Jackson, you deserted us when you might have been very useful, and when our labour was severe; now that we have worked hard, and made ourselves tolerably comfortable, you request to join us, and partake with us of the fruits of our labour and foresight. You have provided nothing, we have--the consequence is that we are in comparative plenty, while you are starving. Now I have taken the opinion of my companions, and they are all agreed, that as you have not assisted when you are wanted, should we now allow you to join us, you will have to work more than the others to make up an equivalent. It is therefore proposed that you shall join us on one condition, which is, that during the year till the birds again visit the island, it will be your task to go up to the ravine every day, and procure the firewood which is required. If you choose to accept these terms, you are permitted to join, always supposing that to all the other rules and regulations which we have laid down for our guidance, you will be subject as well as we are. These are our terms, and you may decide as you think proper.' I hardly need say, that I gladly accepted them, and was still more glad when the remnants of the dinner were placed before me; I was nearly choked, I devoured with such haste until my appetite was appeased. "When this was done, I thought over the conditions which I had accepted, and my blood boiled at the idea that I was to be in a manner the slave to the rest, as I should have to work hard every day. I forgot that it was but justice, and that I was only earning my share of the years' provisions, which I had not assisted to collect. My heart was still more bitter against your father, and I vowed vengeance if ever I had an opportunity, but there was no help for it. Every day I went up with a piece of cord and an axe, cut a large faggot of wood, and brought it down to the cabin. It was hard work, and occupied me from breakfast to dinner-time, and I had no time to lose if I wanted to be back for dinner. The captain always examined the faggot, and ascertained that I had brought down a sufficient supply for the day's consumption." Chapter IX "A year passed away, during which I was thus employed. At last, the birds made their appearance, and after we had laid up our annual provision, I was freed from my task, and had only to share the labour with others. It was now a great source of speculation how long we were likely to remain on the island; every day did we anxiously look out for a vessel, but we could see none, or if seen, they were too far off from the island to permit us to make signals to them. At last we began to give up all hope, and, as hope was abandoned, a settled gloom was perceptible on most of our faces. I believe that others would have now mutinied as well as myself, if they had known what to mutiny about. Your father and mother were the life and soul of the party, inventing amusements, or narrating a touching story in the evenings, so as to beguile the weary time; great respect was paid to your mother, which she certainly deserved; I seldom approached her; she had taken a decided dislike to me, arising, I presume, from my behaviour towards her husband, for now that I was again on a footing with the others, I was as insolent to him as I dared to be, without incurring the penalty attached to insubordination, and I opposed him as much as I could in every proposal that he brought forward--but your father kept his temper, although I lost mine but too often. The first incident which occurred of any consequence, was the loss of two of the men, who had, with your father's permission, taken a week's provisions, with the intention of making a tour round the island, and ascertaining whether any valuable information could be brought back; they were the carpenter and one of the seamen. It appears that during their return, as they were crossing the highest ridge, they, feeling very thirsty, and not finding water, attempted to refresh themselves by eating some berries which they found on a plant. These berries proved to be strong poison, and they returned very ill--after languishing a few days, they both died. "This was an event which roused us up, and broke the monotony of our life; but it was one which was not very agreeable to dwell upon, and yet, at the same time, I felt rather pleasure than annoyance at it--I felt that I was of more consequence, and many other thoughts entered my mind which I shall not now dwell upon. We buried them in the guano, under the first high rock, where, indeed, the others were all subsequently buried. Three more months passed away, when the other seaman was missing. After a search, his trousers were found at the edge of the rock. He had evidently been bathing in the sea, for the day on which he was missed, the water was as smooth as glass. Whether he had seen something floating, which he wished to bring to land, or whether he had ventured for his own amusement, for he was an excellent swimmer, could never be ascertained--any more than whether he had sunk with the cramp, or had been taken down by a shark. He never appeared again, and his real fate is a mystery to this day, and must ever remain so. Thus were we reduced to four men--your father, the captain, the mate, and me. But you must be tired--I will stop now, and tell you the remainder some other time." Although I was not tired, yet, as Jackson appeared to be so, I made no objection to his proposal, and we both went to sleep. While I had read the Bible to Jackson, I had often been puzzled by numbers being mentioned, and never could understand what was meant, that is, I could form no of the quantity represented by seventy or sixty, or whatever it might be. Jackson's answer was, "Oh! it means a great many; I'll explain to you bye-and-bye, but we have nothing to count with, and as I am blind, I must have something in my hand to teach you." I recollected that at the bathing pool there were a great many small shells on the rocks, about the size of a pea; there were live fish in them, and they appeared to crawl on the rocks. I collected a great quantity of these, and brought them up to the cabin, and requested Jackson would teach me to count. This he did, until he came to a thousand, which he said was sufficient. For many days I continued to count up to a hundred, until I was quite perfect, and then Jackson taught me addition and subtraction to a certain degree, by making me add and take away from the shells, and count the accumulation, or the remainder. At last, I could remember what I had gained by manipulation, if I may use the term, but further, I could not go, although addition had, to a degree, made me master of multiplication, and subtraction gave me a good idea of division. This was a new delight to me, and occupied me for three or four weeks. At last I had, as I thought, learned all that he could teach me in his blind state, and I threw away the shells, and sighed for something more. Of a sudden it occurred to me, that I had never looked into the book which still lay upon the shelf in the cabin, and I saw no reason now that I should not; so I mentioned it to Jackson, and asked him why I might not have that book? "To be sure you may," replied he; "but you never asked for it, and I quite forgot it." "But when I asked you before, you were so particular that I should not open it. What was your reason then?" Jackson replied--"I had no reason except that I then disliked you, and I thought that looking into the book would give you pleasure. It belonged to that poor fellow that was drowned; he had left it in the stern-sheets of the boat when we were at Valdivia, and had forgotten it, and we found it there when we landed on the island. Take it down, it will amuse you." I took down the book, and opened it. It was, if I recollect right, called "Mavor's Natural History." At all events, it was a Natural History of Beasts and Birds, with a plate representing each, and a description annexed. It would be impossible for me to convey to the reader my astonishment and delight. I had never seen a picture or drawing in my life. I did not know that such things existed. I was in an ecstasy of delight as I turned over the pages, hardly taking sufficient time to see one object before I hastened on to another. For two or three hours did I thus turn over leaves, without settling upon any one animal; at last my pulse beat more regularly, and I commenced with the Lion. But now what a source of amusement, and what a multitude of questions had to be answered by my companion. He had to tell me all about the countries in which the animals were found; and the description of the animals, with the anecdotes, were a source of much conversation; and, what was more, the foregrounds and backgrounds of the landscapes with which the animals were surrounded produced new ideas. There was a palm-tree, which I explained to Jackson, and inquired about it. This led to more inquiries. The lion himself occupied him and me for a whole afternoon, and it was getting dark when I lay down, with my new treasure by my side. I had read of the lion in the Scriptures, and now I recalled all the passages; and before I slept I thought of the bear which destroyed the children who had mocked Elisha the prophet, and I determined that the first animal I would read about the next morning should be the bear. I think that this book lasted me nearly two months, during which time, except reading a portion every night and morning to Jackson, the Bible and Prayer-book were neglected. Sometimes I thought that the book could not be true; but when I came to the birds, I found those which frequented the island so correctly described, that I had no longer any doubt on the subject. Perhaps what interested me most were the plates in which the barn-door fowls and the peacock were described, as in the background of the first were a cottage and figures, representing the rural scenery of England, my own country; and in the second there was a splendid mansion, and a carriage and four horses driving up to the door. In short, it is impossible to convey to the reader the new ideas which I received from these slight efforts of the draftsman to give effect to his drawing. The engraving was also a matter of much wonder, and required a great deal of explanation from Jackson. This book became my treasure, and it was not till I had read it through and through, so as almost to know it by heart, that at length I returned to my Bible. All this time I had never asked Jackson to go on with his narrative; but now that my curiosity was appeased, I made the request. He appeared, as before, very unwilling; but I was pertinacious, and he was worried into it. "There were but four of us left and your mother, and the mate was in a very bad state of health; he fretted very much, poor fellow, for he had left a young wife in England, and what he appeared to fear most was, that she would be married again before he could get home. It ended in a confirmed liver complaint, which carried him off nine months afterwards; and thus was one more of our companions disposed of. He died very quietly, and gave me his sleeve-buttons and watch to deliver to his wife, if ever I should escape from the island. I fear there is little chance of her ever receiving them." "Where are they?" said I, recollecting how I had seen him lift up the board under his bed-place. "I have them safe," replied Jackson, "and if necessary, will tell you where to find them." This reply satisfied me, and I allowed him to proceed. "We buried him in the guano, by the side of the two others, and now we were but three. It was at this time that your mother was confined and you were born; that is about three months after the death of the mate. We had just finished laying in our stock of birds for the year when she was taken ill, sooner than was expected, and it was supposed that it was occasioned by over-exertion at the time. However, she got up very well without any medical assistance, and your father was much pleased at having a son, for he had been married five years without any prospect of a family. I ought to observe that the loss of our companions, one after another, had had the effect of bringing those that remained much closer together; I was treated with more kindness by both your father and mother, and the captain, and I returned it as well as my feelings would permit me, for I could not altogether get rid of my animosity to your father. However, we became much more confidential, that is certain, and I was now treated as an equal. "Six months passed away and you had become a thriving child, when a melancholy occurrence"--here Jackson covered up his face with his hands and remained for some time silent. "Go on," said I, "Jackson, I know that they all died somehow or another." "Very true," replied he, recovering himself. "Well, your father disappeared. He had gone to the rocks to fish, and when I was sent to bring him home to dinner, he was nowhere to be found. It was supposed that a larger fish than usual had been fast to his line, and that he had been jerked off the rocks into the water and the sharks had taken him. It was a dreadful affair," continued Jackson, again covering his face. "I think," replied I, "that any man in his senses would have allowed the fish to have taken the line rather than have been dragged into the water. I don't think that the supposed manner of his death is at all satisfactory." "Perhaps not," replied Jackson; "his foot may have slipped, who knows? we only could guess; the line was gone as well as he, which made us think what I said. Still we searched everywhere, but without hope; and our search--that is the captain's and mine, for your poor mother remained with you in her arms distracted--was the cause of another disaster--no less than the death of the captain. They say misfortunes never come single, and surely this was an instance of the truth of the proverb." "How did he die?" replied I, gravely, for somehow or other I felt doubts as to the truth of what he was saying. Jackson did not reply till after a pause, when he said-- "He was out with me up the ravine collecting firewood, and he fell over the high cliff. He was so injured that he died in half an hour." "What did you do?" "What did I do--what could I do but go back and break the news to your mother, who was distracted when she heard it; for the captain was her friend, and she could not bear me." "Well go on, pray," said I. "I did all that I could to make your mother comfortable, as there now were but her, you, and I, left on the island. You were then about three years old; but your mother always hated me, and appeared now to hate me more and more. She never recovered the loss of your father to whom she was devotedly attached; she pined away, and after six months she died, leaving you and me only on the island. Now you know the whole history, and pray do not ask me any more about it." Chapter X Jackson threw himself back in his bed-place and was silent. So was I, for I was recalling all that he had told me, and my doubts were raised as to the truth of it. I did not like his hurrying over the latter portion of his narrative in the way which he had done. What he had said about my mother was not satisfactory. I had for some time been gradually drawing towards him, not only shewing, but feeling, for him a great increase of goodwill; but suspicion had entered my mind, and I now began to feel my former animosity towards him renewed. A night's sleep, however, and more reflection, induced me to think that possibly I was judging him too harshly, and as I could not afford to quarrel with him, our intercourse remained as amicable as before, particularly as he became more and more amiable towards me and did everything in his power to interest and amuse me. I was one day reading to him the account of a monkey given in the book of Natural History, in which it is said that that animal is fond of spirits and will intoxicate itself, and Jackson was telling me many anecdotes of monkeys on board of the vessel he had sailed in, when it occurred to me that I had never thought of mentioning to him or of ascertaining the contents of the cask which had been thrown into the bathing-pool with the seaman's chest, and I did so then to Jackson, wondering at its contents and how they were to be got at. Jackson entered into the question warmly, explaining to me how and where to bore holes with a gimlet, and making two spiles for me to stop the holes with. As soon as he had done so, curiosity induced me to go down to the pool where the cask had been lying so long, in about a foot-and-half water. By Jackson's directions I took a pannikin with me, that I might bring him a specimen of the contents of the cask, if they should prove not to be water. I soon bored the hole above and below, following Jackson's directions, and the liquor, which poured out in a small stream into the pannikin, was of a brown colour and very strong in odour, so strong, indeed, as to make me reel as I walked back to the rocks with the pannikin full of it. I then sat down, and after a time tasted it. I thought I had swallowed fire, for I had taken a good mouthful of it. "This cannot be what Jackson called spirits," said I. "No one can drink this--what can it be?" Although I had not swallowed more than a table-spoonful of it, yet, combined with the fumes of the liquor which I had inhaled when drawing it off into the pannikin, the effect was to make my head swim, and I lay down on the rock and shut my eyes to recover myself. It ended in my falling asleep for many hours, for it was not much after noon when I went to the cask, and it was near sunset when I awoke, with an intense pain in my head. It was some time before I could recollect where I was, or what had passed, but the pannikin full of liquor by my side first reminded me; and then perceiving how late it was, and how long I must have slept, I rose up, and taking the pannikin in my hand, I hastened to return to the cabin. As I approached, I heard the voice of Jackson, whose hearing, since his blindness, I had observed, had become peculiarly acute. "Is that you, Frank?" "Yes," replied I. "And what has kept you so long--how you have frightened me. God forgive me, but I thought that I was to be left and abandoned to starvation." "Why should you have thought that?" replied I. "Because I thought that some way or another you must have been killed, and then I must have died, of course. I never was so frightened in my life, the idea of dying here all alone--it was terrible." It occurred to me at the time that the alarm was all for himself, for he did not say a word about how sorry he should have been at any accident happening to me, but I made no remark, simply stating what had occurred, and my conviction that the contents of the cask were not drinkable. "Have you brought any with you?" inquired he, sharply. "Yes, here it is," said I, giving him the pannikin. He smelt it, and raised it to his lips--took about a wine-glassful of it, and then drew his breath. "This is delightful," said he; "the best of old rum, I never tasted so good. How big did you say that the cask was?" I described it as well as I could. "Indeed, then it must be a whole puncheon--that will last a long while." "But do you mean to say that you really like to drink that stuff?" inquired I. "Do I like to drink it? yes, it is good for men, but it's death to little boys. It will kill you. Don't you get fond of it. Now promise me that you will never drink a drop of it. You must not get fond of it, or some sad accident will happen to you." "I don't think you need fear my drinking it," replied I. "I have had one taste, as I told you, and it nearly burnt my mouth. I shan't touch it again." "That's right," replied Jackson, taking another quantity into his mouth. "You are not old enough for it; bye-and-bye, when you are as old as I am, you may drink it, then it will do you good. Now, I'll go to bed, it's time for bed. Bring the pannikin after me and put it by my side. Take care you don't spill any of it." Jackson crawled to his bed, and I followed him with the pannikin, and put it by his side, as he requested, and I returned to my own resting-place, without however having the least inclination to sleep, having slept so long during the day. At first Jackson was quiet, but I heard him occasionally applying to the pannikin, which held, I should say, about three half-pints of liquor. At last he commenced singing a sea song; I was much surprised, as I had never heard him sing before; but I was also much pleased, as it was the first time that I had ever heard anything like melody, for he had a good voice and sang in good tune. As soon as he had finished, I begged him to go on. "Ah!" replied he, with a gay tone I had never heard from him before. "You like songs, do you? my little chap. Well, I'll give you plenty of them. 'Tis a long while since I have sung, but it's a 'poor heart that never rejoiceth.' The time was when no one in company could sing a song as I could, and so I can again, now that I have something to cheer my heart. Yes, here's another for you. I shall rouse them all out by-and-bye, as I get the grog in--no fear of that--you find the stuff, and I'll find songs." I was surprised at first at this unusual mirth; but recollecting what Jackson had told me about his intemperance, I presumed that this mirth which it produced was the cause why he indulged so much in it; and I felt less inclined to blame him. At all events, I was much pleased with the songs that he sang to me one after another for three or four hours, when his voice became thick, and, after some muttering and swearing, he was quite silent, and soon afterwards snored loudly. I remained awake some time longer, and then I also sank into forgetfulness. When I awoke the next morning, I found Jackson still fast asleep. I waited for him for our morning meal; but, as he did not wake, I took mine by myself, and then I walked out to the rock, where I usually sat, and looked round the horizon to see if there was anything in sight. The spy-glass, from having been in sea water, was of no use, and I did not know what to do with it; nor could Jackson instruct me. After I had been out about an hour I returned, and found Jackson still snoring, and I determined to wake him up. I pushed him for some time without success; but, at last he opened his eyes, and said: "My watch already?" "No," said I; "but you have slept so long, that I have waked you up." He paused, as if he did not know my voice, and then said: "But I can't see anything; how's this?" "Why, don't you know that you're blind, Jackson?" replied I, with amazement. "Yes, yes; I recollect now. Is there anything in the pannikin?" "Not a drop," replied I; "why, you must have drunk it all." "Yes, I recollect now. Get me some water, my good boy; for I am dying with thirst." I went for the water; he drank the whole pannikin, and asked for more. "Won't you have something to eat?" said I. "Eat? oh no; I can't eat anything. Give me drink;" and he held out his hand for the pannikin. I perceived how it trembled and shook, and I observed it to him. "Yes," replied he, "that's always the case after a carouse, and I had a good one last night--the first for many a year. But there's plenty more of it. I wish you would get me a little more now, Frank, just to steady me; just about two or three mouthfuls, no more; that is, no more till night-time. Did I make much noise last night?" "You sang several songs," replied I, "with which I was much amused." "I'm glad that you liked them. I used to be considered a good singer in my day; indeed, if I had not been such good company, as they term it, I had not become so fond of drinking. Just go and fetch me about half an inch high of the pannikin, my good fellow, that's all I want now." I went down to the cask, drew of the quantity that he requested, and brought it to him. He drank it off; and, in a few moments, appeared to be quite himself again. He then asked for something to eat, and commenced telling me a variety of stories relative to what he termed jolly parties in his former days; so that the day passed very agreeably. As the night closed in, he said: "Now, Frank, I know you want to hear some more songs; so go down and bring me up a full pannikin, and I will sing you plenty." I complied with his request, for I was anxious to be again amused as I was the night before. The consequence was that this night was, in the early portion of it, but a repetition of the previous one. Jackson took the precaution to get into his bed-place before he commenced drinking; and, as soon as he had taken his second dose, he asked me what sort of songs I liked. My reply naturally was, that I had never heard any one sing but him, and therefore could not say. "What did I sing to you last night?" said he. I replied as well as I could. "Ah," said he, "they were all sea songs; but now I will give you something better." After a little thought, he commenced singing a very beautiful and plaintive one, and certainly much better than he had sung the night before; for he now was sober. The consequence was, that I was still more delighted; and, at my request, he sang several others; but at last his speech became rapid and thick, and he would not sing any more, using some very coarse expressions to me when I asked him. For a time he was silent, and I thought that he was going to sleep, and I was reflecting upon the various effects which the liquor appeared to have upon him, when I heard him talking and muttering, and I listened. "Never mind how I got them," said he; "quite as honestly as other people, Old Moshes. There they are, do you choose to buy them?" Then there was a pause, after which he commenced: "They're as pure diamonds as ever came out of a mine. I know that, so none of your lies, you old Jew. Where did I come by them? that's no concern of yours. The question is, will you give me the price, or will you not? Well, then, I'm off. No, I won't come back, you old thief." Here he swore terribly, and then was silent. After a while he recommenced-- "Who can ever prove that they were Henniker's diamonds?" I started up at the mention of my father's name; I rested with my hands on the floor of the cabin, breathless as to what would come next. "No, no," continued Jackson, "he's dead, and food for fishes--dead men tell no tales--and she's dead, and the captain's dead, all dead--yes, all;" and he gave a bitter groan and was silent. The day was breaking, and I could just see him as he lay; but he said no more, and appeared to breathe heavily. As the sun rose, I got out of my bed-place; and, now that it was broad daylight, I looked at Jackson. He was lying on his back; his brow was covered with large drops of perspiration, and his hands were clenched together. Although asleep, he appeared, by the convulsive twitching of the muscles of his face, to be suffering and in great agony. Occasionally he groaned deeply, and his lips appeared to move, but no sound proceeded from them. I perceived that the pannikin of liquor was not finished, one-third at least having been left. Chapter XI I then went out of the cabin and took my usual seat, and began to reflect upon what I had heard. He had talked about diamonds; now I knew what diamonds were, so far as they were of great value, for I had read of them in the Bible, and Jackson had explained the value of precious stones to me, and had told me of diamonds of very great value indeed. Then he said that they were Henniker's diamonds--he must have meant my father, that was positive. And that no one could prove they were his--this implied that Jackson had no right to them; indeed how could he have? And then I recalled to mind his having a secret hiding place under his bed, where I presumed the diamonds were deposited. I then turned over in my mind what he had told me relative to the death of my father, the captain, and my mother, how confused he was, and how glad he was to get rid of the subject, and how unsatisfactory I thought his account was at the time. After much cogitation, I made up my mind that Jackson had not told me the truth, and that there was a mystery yet to be explained; but how was I to get at it? There was but one way. The liquor made him talk. I would supply him with liquor, and by degrees I would get the truth out of him. At the same time I would not allow him to suppose that he had said anything to commit himself, or that I had any suspicions. How naturally do we fall into treachery and deceit, from the evil in our own hearts, without any assistance or example from the world. How could I have learnt deceit? Isolated as I had been, must it not have been innate? I returned to the cabin, and woke Jackson without much difficulty, since he had not drunk so much as on the previous night. "How are you this morning?" said I. "Not very well; I have had some bad dreams." "Well you sang me some beautiful songs," replied I. "Yes, I recollect," said he; "but I fell asleep at last." "Yes, you refused to sing any more, and went off in a loud snore." Jackson got out of his bed-place, and I gave him his meal. We talked during the whole day about singing, and I hummed the air which had pleased me most. "You have got the air pretty correct," said he; "you must have an ear for music. Have you ever tried to sing?" "No, never; you know I have not." "You might have tried when I was not with you. Try now. I will sing a tune, and then do you repeat it after me." He did so, and I repeated it. "Very good," said he. "Let's try the compass of your voice." He ran up the gamut, and I followed him. "I think you can go higher than I can," said he, "however you go quite high enough, so now I'll give you a singing lesson." Thus were we occupied at intervals during the whole day, for Jackson would not allow me to try my voice too much at first. As the evening fell, he again asked me to fetch some liquor, and as I had three quart wine bottles, as I before mentioned, which I had found in the chest, I took them down to fill, as it would save me many trips, and be more convenient in every respect. I brought them up full, and Jackson stopped them up with some of the rags which I had torn to bind round his wrist, and put them all three in his bed-place. "That will be a much better arrangement," said he, "as now I can pour out the liquor into the pannikin as I want it; besides, I mean to take a little water with it in future. It's not quite so good with water, but it lasts longer, and one don't go to sleep so soon. Well, I little thought that I should have such a comfort sent me after all my sufferings. I don't so much care now about staying here. Go and fetch some water in the pannikin." That night was a repetition of the first. Jackson sang till he was intoxicated, and then fell fast asleep, not talking or saying a word, and I was disappointed, for I remained awake to catch anything he might say. It would be tedious to repeat what took place for about a month;--suffice it to say it was very rarely, during that time, that Jackson said anything in his sleep, or drunken state, and what he did say I could make nothing of. He continued, in the daytime, to give me lessons in singing, and I could now sing several songs very correctly. At night, he returned to his usual habit, and was more or less intoxicated before the night was over. I perceived, however, that this excess had a great effect upon his constitution, and that he had become very pale and haggard. Impatient as I felt to find out the truth, I concealed my feelings towards him (which had certainly very much changed again since the discovery I had made and the suspicions I had formed) and I remained on the best of terms with him, resolving to wait patiently. He had spoken once, and therefore I argued that he would speak again, nor was I wrong in my calculations. One night, after he had finished his usual allowance of liquor, and had composed himself for sleep, I observed that he was unusually restless, changing his position in his bed-place every few minutes, and, at last, he muttered, "Captain James. Well, what of Captain James, eh?" A thought struck me that he might reply to a question. "How did he die?" said I, in a low clear voice. "Die?" replied Jackson, "he fell down the cliff. Yes, he did. You can't say I killed him. No--never put my finger on him." After that, he was silent for some time, and then he recommenced. "She always said that I destroyed them both, but I did not--only one--yes, one, I grant--but I hated him--no, not for his diamonds--no, no--if you said his wife indeed--love and hate." "Then you killed him for love of his wife, and hate of himself?" "Yes, I did. Who are you that have guessed that? Who are you? I'll have your life." As he said this, he started up in his bed-place, awakened by his dream, and probably by my voice, which he had replied to. "Who spoke?" said he. "Frank Henniker, did you speak?" I made no reply, but pretended to be sound asleep, as he still sat up, as if watching me. I feigned a snore. "It could not have been him," muttered Jackson, "he's quite fast. Mercy, what a dream!" He then sank down in his bed-place, and I heard the gurgling noise which told me that he had put the bottle of liquor to his mouth, and was drinking out of it. From the time that the gurgling lasted, he must have taken a great deal. At last, all was quiet again. "So I have discovered it at last," said I, as my blood boiled at what I had heard. "He did murder my father. Shall I kill him while he sleeps?" was the first thought that came into my troubled mind. "No, I won't do that. What then, shall I tax him with it when he is awake, and then kill him?" but I thought, that, as he was blind, and unable to defend himself, it would be cowardly, and I could not do that. What then was I to do? and as I cooled down, I thought of the words of the Bible, that we were to return good for evil; for Jackson, of whom, when I read it, I asked why we were told to do so, had explained it to me, and afterwards when I came to the part which said, "Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord," he had told me that there was punishment for the wicked hereafter, and that was the reason why we were not to obey the Jewish law of "an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth," which I had referred to. This portion of the Bible he had well explained, and certain it is that it prevented my raising my hand against him that night. Still, I remained in a state of great excitement; I felt that it would be impossible for me to be any longer on good terms with him, and I revolved the question in my mind, till at last, worn out by excitement, I fell fast asleep. A short time before daylight, I started up at what I thought was a faint cry, but I listened, and hearing nothing more, I again fell asleep, and it was broad daylight when I arose; my first thoughts were naturally of Jackson, and I looked at where he lay, but he was no longer there--his bed-place was empty. I was astonished, and after a moment's thought, I recollected the cry I had heard in the night, and I ran out of the cabin and looked around me, but I could see nothing of him. I then went to the edge of the flat rock upon which the cabin was built and looked over it; it was about thirty feet from this rock to the one below, and nearly perpendicular. I thought that he must have gone out in the night, when intoxicated with liquor, and have fallen down the precipice; but I did not see him as I peered over. "He must have gone for water," thought I, and I ran to the corner of the rock, where the precipice was much deeper, and looking over, I perceived him lying down below without motion or apparent life. I had, then, judged rightly. I sat down by the side of the pool of water quite overpowered; last night I had been planning how I should destroy him, and now he lay dead before me without my being guilty of the crime. "Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord," were the words that first escaped my lips; and I remained many minutes in deep thought. At last it occurred to me that he might not yet be dead; I ran down the cliff, and, clambering over the rocks, arrived breathless at the spot where Jackson lay. He groaned heavily as I stood by him. "Jackson," said I, kneeling down by him, "are you much hurt?" for all my feelings of animosity had vanished when I perceived his unhappy condition. His lips moved, but he did not utter any sound. At last he said, in a low voice, "Water." I hastened back as fast as I could to the cabin, got a pannikin half full of water, and poured a little rum in it out of the bottle. This journey and my return to him occupied some ten minutes. I put it to his lips, and he seemed to revive. He was a dreadful object to look at. The blood from a cut on his head had poured over his face and beard, which were clotted with gore. How to remove him to the cabin I knew not. It would be hardly possible for me to carry him over the broken rocks which I had climbed to arrive at where he lay; and there was no other way but what was longer, and just as difficult. By degrees he appeared to recover; I gave him more of the contents of the pannikin, and at last he could speak, although with great pain and difficulty. As he did so he put his hand to his side. He was indeed a ghastly object, with his sightless eyeballs, his livid lips, and his face and beard matted with blood. "Do you think you could get to the cabin, if I helped you?" said I. "I shall never get there--let me die where I am," said he. "But the cut on your head is not very deep," replied I. "No, I don't feel it;--but--my side--I bleed inwardly--I am--broken to pieces," said he, pausing and gasping between each word. I looked at his side, and perceived that it was already black and much swollen. I offered him more drink, which he took eagerly, and I then returned for a further supply. I filled two of the wine-bottles with water and a small drop of spirits as before, and went back to where he lay. I found him more recovered, and I had hopes that he might still do well, and I told him so. "No, no," replied he; "I have but a few hours to live--I feel that. Let me die here, and die in peace." He then sank into a sort of stupor, occasioned, I presume, by what I had given him to drink, and remained quite quiet, and breathing heavily. I sat by him waiting till he should rouse up again; for more than an hour I was in a very confused state of mind, as may well be imagined, after what had passed in the night. Chapter XII What I most thought of was obtaining from him, now that he was dying, the full truth as to the deaths of my father and mother. Jackson remained so long in this state of stupor, I feared that he would die before I could interrogate him; but this, as it proved, was not to be the case. I waited another hour, very impatiently I must acknowledge, and then I went to him and asked him how he felt. He replied immediately, and without that difficulty which he appeared before to have experienced. "I am better now--the inward bleeding has stopped; but still I cannot live--my side is broken in, I do not think there is a rib that is not fractured into pieces, and my spine is injured, for I cannot move or feel my legs; but I may live many hours yet, and I thank God for His mercy in allowing me so much time--short indeed to make reparation for so bad a life, but still nothing is impossible with God." "Well, then," replied I, "if you can speak, I wish you would tell me the truth relative to my father's death, and also about the death of others; as for my father I know that you murdered him--for you said so last night in your sleep." After a pause, Jackson replied--"I am glad that I did, and that you have told me so--I wished to make a full confession even to you, for confession is a proof of repentance. I know that you must hate me, and will hate my memory, and I cannot be surprised at it; but look at me now, Frank, and ask your own heart whether I am not more an object of pity than of hatred. 'Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord!' and has not His vengeance fallen upon me even in this world? Look at me; here I am, separated from the world that I loved so much, with no chance of ever joining it--possessed of wealth which would but a few months ago have made me happy--now blind, crushed to pieces by an avenging God, in whose presence I must shortly appear to answer for all my wickedness--all my expectations overthrown, all my hopes destroyed, and all my accumulated sins procuring me nothing, but, it may be, eternal condemnation. I ask you again, am I not an object of pity and commiseration?" I could but assent to this, and he proceeded. "I will now tell you the truth. I did tell the truth up to the time of your father and mother's embarkation on board of the brig, up to when the gale of wind came on which occasioned eventually the loss of the ship. Now give me a little drink. "The vessel was so tossed by the storm, and the waves broke over her so continually, that the between-decks were full of water, and as the hatches were kept down, the heat was most oppressive. When it was not my watch I remained below, and looked out for another berth to sleep in. Before the cabin bulkheads on the starboard side, the captain had fitted up a sort of sail-room to contain the spare sails in case we should require them. It was about eight feet square, and the sails were piled up in it, so as to reach within two feet of the deck overhead; though the lower ones were wetted with the water, above they were dry, and I took this berth on the top of the sails as my sleeping place. Now the state-room in which your father and mother slept was on the other side of the cabin bulkhead, and the straining and rolling of the vessel had opened the chinks between the planks, so that I could see a great deal of what was done in the state-room, and could hear every word almost that was spoken by them. I was not aware of this when I selected this place as my berth, but I found it out on the first night, the light of the candle shining through the chinks into the darkness by which I was surrounded outside. Of course, it is when a man is alone with his wife that he talks on confidential subjects; that I knew well, and hoped by listening to be able to make some discovery;--what, I had no idea of; but, with the bad feelings which stimulated me, I determined not to lose an opportunity. It was not till about a week after I had selected this berth, that I made any discovery. I had had the watch from six to eight o'clock, and had gone to bed early. About nine o'clock your father came into the state-room. Your mother was already in bed. As your father undressed, your mother said, 'Does not that belt worry you a great deal, my dear?' "'No,' replied your father, 'I am used to it now; it did when I first put it on, but now I have had it on four days, I do not feel it. I shall keep it on as long as this weather lasts; there is no saying what may happen, and it will not do to be looking for the belt at a moment's warning.' "'Do you think then that we are in danger?' "'No, not particularly so, but the storm is very fierce, and the vessel is old and weak. We may have fine weather in a day or two, or we may not; at all events, when property of value is at stake, and that property not my own, I should feel myself very culpable, if I did not take every precaution.' "'Well--I wish we were safe home again, my dear, and that my father had his diamonds, but we are in the hands of God.' "'Yes, I must trust to Him,' replied your father. "This circumstance induced me to look through one of the chinks of the bulkhead, so that I could see your father, and I perceived that he was unbuckling a belt which was round his body, and which no doubt contained the diamonds referred to. It was of soft leather, and about eight inches wide, sewed lengthways and breadthways in small squares, in which I presumed the diamonds were deposited. After a time your mother spoke again. "'I really think, Henniker, that I ought to wear the belt.' "'Why so, my dear?' "'Because it might be the means of my preservation in case of accident. Suppose now, we were obliged to abandon the vessel and take to the boats; a husband, in his hurry, might forget his wife, but he would not forget his diamonds. If I wore the belt, you would be certain to put me in the boat.' "'That observation of yours would have force with some husbands, and some wives,' retorted your father; 'but as I have a firm belief in the Scriptures, it does not affect me. What do the Proverbs say? "The price of a virtuous woman is far above rubies;" and a good ruby is worth even more in the market than a diamond of the same size.' "'Well, I must comfort myself with that idea,' replied your mother, laughing. "'Supposing we be thrown upon some out-of-the-way place,' said your father, 'I shall then commit the belt to your charge. It might soon be discovered on my person, whereas, on yours, it would stand every chance of being long concealed. I say this because, even in a desert, it would be dangerous to have it known by unscrupulous and unprincipled men that anyone had so much wealth about him.' "'Well,' replied your mother, 'that is also comfortable for me to hear, for you will not leave me behind, because I shall be necessary to conceal your treasure.' "'Yes,' replied your father, laughing, 'there is another chance for you, you see.' "Your father then extinguished the light, and the conversation was not renewed; but I had heard enough. Your father carried a great treasure about his person--wealth, I took it for granted, that if I once could obtain, and return to England, would save me from my present position. My avarice was hereby excited, and thus another passion equally powerful, and equally inciting to evil deeds, was added to the hate which I already had imbibed for your father. But I must leave off now." Jackson drank a little more, and then remained quiet, and as I had had no food that day, I took the opportunity of returning to the cabin, with the promise that I would be back very soon. In half an hour I returned, bringing with me the Bible and Prayer-book, as I thought that he would ask me to read to him after he had made his confession. I found him breathing heavily, and apparently asleep, so I did not wake him. As I looked at him, and recalled to mind his words, "Am not I an object of pity?" I confessed that he was, and then I asked myself the question, Can you forgive him who was the murderer of your father? After some reflection, I thought that I could. Was he not already punished? Had not the murder been already avenged? It was not possible to retain animosity against one so stricken, so broken to pieces, and my heart smote me when I looked at his disabled hand, and felt that I, boy as I was, had had a share in his marring. At last he spoke. "Are you there, Frank?" "Yes," replied I. "I have had a little sleep," said he. "Do you feel easier?" inquired I kindly. "Yes, I feel my side more numbed, and so it will remain till mortification takes place. But let me finish my confession; I wish to relieve my mind, not that I shall die to-night, or perhaps to-morrow, but still I wish it over. Come nearer to me, that I may speak in a lower voice, and then I shall be able to speak longer." I did so, and he proceeded. "You know how we were cast upon this island, and how I behaved at first. When I afterwards took my place with the others, my evil thoughts gradually quitted me, and I gave up all idea of any injury to your father. But this did not last long. The deaths of so many, and at last the captain your father and your mother being the only ones left on the island besides myself, once more excited my cupidity. I thought again of the belt of diamonds, and by what means I should gain possession of it; and the devil suggested to me the murders of the captain and of your father. I had ascertained that your father no longer carried the belt on his person when we all used to bathe at the bathing-pool; it was, therefore, as your father had proposed, in your mother's keeping. Having once made up my mind, I watched every opportunity to put my intentions into execution. It was the custom for one of us to fish every morning, as your mother would not eat the dried birds, if fish could be procured, and I considered that the only chance I had of executing my horrible wish was when your father went to fish off the rocks. We usually did so off the ledge of rocks which divide the bathing-pool from the sea, but I found out another place, where more fish, and of a better quality, were to be taken, which is off the high wall of rocks just below. You know where I mean, I have often sent you to fish there, but I never could go myself since your father's death. Your father took his lines there, and was hauling in a large fish, when I, who had concealed myself close to where he stood, watched the opportunity as he looked over the rock to see if the fish was clear of the water, to come behind him and throw him off into the sea. He could not swim, I knew, and after waiting a minute or two, I looked over and saw his body, just as it sank, after his last struggles. I then hastened away, and my guilty conscience induced me to ascend the ravine, and collect a faggot of firewood to bring home, that no suspicions might be entertained; but my so doing was the very cause of suspicion, as you will afterwards perceive. I returned with the wood, and the captain observed, when I came up to the cabin: "'Why, it's something new for you to collect wood out of your turn, Jackson. Wonders will never cease.' "'The fact is, that I am becoming very amiable,' replied I, hardly knowing what to say, and afraid to look either of them in the face, for your mother, with you on her lap, was standing close by. "'Has my husband caught any fish, do you know, Jackson?' said your mother, 'for it is high time that he came home.' "'How can I tell?' replied I. 'I have been up the ravine for wood.' "'But you were down on the rock two hours ago,' replied your mother, 'for Captain James saw you coming away.' "'That I certainly did,' replied the captain. 'Had he caught any fish when you were with him?' "They must have perceived my confusion when I said, 'Yes, I was on the rocks, but I never went near Henniker, that I'll swear.' "'You must have been near him, even when I saw you,' replied the captain. "'I never looked at him, if I was,' replied I. "'Well, then, one of us had better go down and see what he is about,' said the captain. 'Shall I leave Jackson with you?' "'Yes, yes,' replied your mother, much agitated, 'for I have my forebodings; better leave him here.' "The captain hastened down to the rocks, and in a quarter of an hour returned very much heated, saying, 'He is not there!' "'Not there?' replied I, getting up, for I had seated myself in silence on the rock during the captain's absence: 'that's very odd.' "'It is,' replied the captain. 'Jackson, go and try if you see anything of him, while I attend to Mrs Henniker.' "Your mother, on the captain's return, had bowed her head down to her knees, and covered her face with her hands. I was glad of an excuse to be away, for my heart smote me as I witnessed her condition. "I remained away half-an-hour, and then returned, saying that I could see nothing of your father. "Your mother was in the cabin, and the captain went in to her, while I remained outside with all the feelings of Cain upon my brow. "That was a dreadful day for all parties--no food was taken. Your mother and the captain remained in the cabin, and I dared not, as usual, go in to my own bed-place. I lay all night upon the rocks--sleep I could not; every moment I saw your father's body sinking, as I had seen it in the morning. The next morning the captain came out to me. He was very grave and stern, but he could not accuse me, whatever his suspicions might have been. It was a week before I saw your mother again, for I dared not intrude into her presence; but, finding there was no accusation against me, I recovered my spirits, and returned to the cabin, and things went on as before." Chapter XIII "One thing, however, was evident, that your mother had an aversion--I may say a horror--of me, which she could not conceal. She said nothing, but she never could look at me; and to any question I put, would seldom make reply. Strange to say this treatment of hers produced quite a different effect from what might have been anticipated, and I felt my former love for her revive. Her shrinking from me made me more familiar towards her, and increased her disgust. I assumed a jocose air with her, and at times Captain James considered it his duty to interfere and check me. He was a very powerful man, and in a contest would have proved my master; this I knew, and this knowledge compelled me to be more respectful to your mother in his presence, but when his back was turned I became so disgustingly familiar, that at last your mother requested that whether fishing or collecting wood, instead of going out by turns we should both go, and leave her alone. This I could not well refuse, as Captain James would in all probability have used force if I had not consented, but my hatred to him was in consequence most unbounded. However, an event took place which relieved me from the subjection which I was under, and left me alone with you and your mother. Now I must rest a little. Wait another hour, and you shall know the rest." It was now late in the evening, but there was a bright moon which shone over head, and the broad light and shadow made the rocks around us appear peculiarly wild and rugged. They towered up one above the other till they met the dark blue of the sky in which the stars twinkled but faintly, while the moon sailed through the ether, without a cloud to obscure her radiance. And in this majestic scenery were found but two living beings--a poor boy and a mangled wretch--a murderer--soon to breathe his last, and be summoned before an offended God. As I remained motionless by his side, I felt, as I looked up, a sensation of awe, but not of fear; I thought to myself--"And God made all this and all the world besides, and me and him. The Bible said so:" and my speculation then was as to what God must be, for although I had read the Bible, I had but a confused idea, and had it been asked me, as it was of the man in the chariot by Philip, "Understandest thou what thou readest?" I most certainly should have answered, No. I remained for nearly two hours in this reverie, and at last fell asleep with my back against the rock. I was, however, wakened up by Jackson's voice, when he asked in a low tone for water. "There it is," said I, handing it to him. "Have you called long?" "No," replied he; "I asked but once." "I have been asleep," said I. As soon as he had drunk, he said-- "I will finish now; my side begins to burn." He then proceeded-- "It was about four months after your father's death that Captain James and I went together to the ravine to collect firewood. We passed under the wall of rock, which you know so well, and went through the gap, as we call it, when Captain James left the water-course and walked along the edge of the wall. I followed him; we both of us had our pieces of rope in our hands with which we tied the faggots. Of a sudden his foot slipped, and he rolled down to the edge of the rock, but catching hold of a small bush which had fixed its roots in the rocks, he saved himself when his body was hanging half over the precipice. "'Give me the end of your rope,' said he to me, perfectly collected, although in such danger. "'Yes,' replied I, and I intended so to do, as I perceived that if I refused he could still have saved himself by the bush to which he clung. "But the bush began to loosen and give way, and Captain James perceiving it cried out-- "'Quick, quick, the bush is giving way!' "This assertion of his determined me not to give him the rope. I pretended to be in a great hurry to do so, but entangled it about my legs, and then appeared occupied in clearing it, when he cried again-- "'Quick!'--and hardly had he said the word when the root of the bush snapped, and down he fell below. "I heard the crash as he came to the rock beneath. See the judgment of God--am I not now precisely in his position, lying battered and crushed as he was? After a time I went down to where he lay, and found him expiring. He had just strength to say 'God forgive you,' and then he died. It was murder, for I could have saved him and would not, and yet he prayed to God to forgive me. How much happier should I have felt if he had not said that. His 'God forgive you' rang in my ears for months afterwards. I returned to the cabin, and with a bold air stated to your mother what had happened, for I felt I could say, this time, I did not do the deed. She burst out into frantic exclamations, accusing me of being not only his murderer but the murderer of her husband. I tried all I could do to appease her, but in vain. For many weeks she was in a state of melancholy and despondency, that made me fear for her life; but she had you still to bestow her affections upon, and for your sake she lived. I soon made this discovery. She was now wholly in my power, but I was awed by her looks even, for a time. At last I became bolder, and spoke to her of our becoming man and wife; she turned from me with abhorrence. I then resorted to other means. I prevented her from obtaining food; she would have starved with pleasure, but she could not bear to see you suffer. I will not detail my cruelty and barbarity towards her; suffice to say, it was such that she pined away, and about six months after the death of the captain she died, exhorting me not to injure you, but if ever I had an opportunity, to take you to your grandfather. I could not refuse this demand, made by a woman whom I as certainly killed by slow means as I had your father by a more sudden death. I buried her in the guano, by the side of the others. After her death my life was a torture to me for a long while. I dared not kill you, but I hated you. I had only one consolation, one hope, which occasionally gave me satisfaction; the consolation, if so it could be called, was--that I had possession of the diamonds; the hope--that I should one day see England again. You see me now--are they not all avenged?" I could not but feel the truth of Jackson's last sentence. They were indeed avenged. After a short pause, he said to me-- "Now, Frank, I feel that the mortification in my side is making great progress, and, in a short time I shall be in too great pain to talk to you. I have made a full confession of my crimes; it is all the reparation I can make to you. Now, can you forgive me? for I shall die very miserable if you do not. Just look at me. Can you feel resentment against one in my wretched state? Recollect that you pray to be forgiven as you forgive others. Give me your answer." "I think--yes, I feel that I can forgive you, Jackson," replied I. "I shall soon be left alone on this island, and I am sure I should be much more miserable than I shall be, if I do not forgive you. I do forgive you." "Thanks; you are a good boy, and may God bless you. Is it not nearly daylight?" "Yes, it is. I shall soon be able to read the Bible or Prayer-book to you. I have them both here." "The pain is too severe, and becomes worse every minute. I shall not be able to listen to you now; but I shall have some moments of quiet before I die; and then--" Jackson groaned heavily, and ceased speaking. For many hours he appeared to suffer much agony, which he vented in low groans; the perspiration hung on his forehead in large beads, and his breathing became laborious. The sun rose and had nearly set again before Jackson spoke; at last he asked for some drink. "It is over now," said he faintly. "The pain is subsiding, and death is near at hand. You may read to me now; but, first, while I think of it, let me tell you where you will find your father's property." "I know," replied I; "in your bed-place under the board. I saw you remove it when you did not see me." "True. I have no more to say; it will all be over soon. Read the burial service over me after I am dead; and now, while still above, read me what you think I shall like best; for I cannot collect myself sufficiently to tell you what is most proper. Indeed I hardly know. But I can pray at times. Read on." I did so, and came upon the parable of the prodigal son. "That suits me," said Jackson. "Now let me pray. Pray for me, Frank." "I don't know how," replied I; "you never taught me." "Alas, no!" Jackson was then silent. I saw his pale lips move for some time. I turned away for a few moments; when I came back to him, he was no more! His jaw had fallen; and this being the first time that I had ever faced death, I looked upon the corpse with horror and dismay. After a few minutes I left the body, and sat down on a rock at some distance from it, for I was somewhat afraid to be near to it. On this rock I remained till the sun was sinking below the horizon; when, alarmed at the idea of being there when it was dark, I took up my books and hastened back to the cabin. I was giddy from excitement, and not having tasted food for many hours. As soon as I had eaten, I lay down in my bed-place, intending to reflect upon what I was to do, now that I was alone; but I was in a few moments fast asleep, and did not wake until the sun was high. I arose much refreshed, and, seeing my Bible and Prayer-book close to my bed-place, I recollected my promise to Jackson that I would read the burial service over his body. I found the place in the Prayer-book, for I had read it more than once before; and, having just looked over it, I went with my book to where the body lay. It presented a yet more hideous spectacle than it had the night before. I read the service and closed the book. "What can I do?" thought I. "I cannot bury him in the guano. It will be impossible to carry the body over these rocks." Indeed, if it had been possible, I do not think I could have touched it. I was afraid of it. At last I determined that I would cover it up with the fragments of rocks which lay about in all directions, and I did so. This occupied me about two hours, and then, carrying the bottles with me, I gladly hastened away from the spot, with a resolution never to revisit it. I felt quite a relief when I was once more in the cabin. I was alone, it was true, but I was no longer in contact with the dead. I could not collect my thoughts or analyse my feelings during the remainder of the day. I sat with my head resting on my hand, in the attitude of one thinking; but at the same time my mind was vacant. I once more lay down to sleep, and the following morning I found myself invigorated, and capable of acting as well as thinking. I had a weight upon my spirits which I could not at first account for; but it arose from the feeling that I was now alone, without a soul to speak to or communicate with; my lips must now be closed till I again fell in with some of my fellow-creatures--and was that likely? We had seen some of them perish not far from us, and that was all, during a period of many years. Chapter XIV I was now, by Jackson's account, nearly fourteen years old. During fourteen years but one vessel had been seen by us. It might be fourteen more, or double that time might elapse, before I should again fall in with any of my fellow-creatures. As these thoughts saddened me, I felt how much I would have sacrificed if Jackson had remained alive, were it only for his company; I would have forgiven him anything. I even then felt as if, in the murderer of my father, I had lost a friend. That day I was so unsettled I could not do anything; I tried to read, but I could not; I tried to eat, but my appetite was gone, I sat looking at the ocean as it rolled wave after wave, sometimes wondering whether it would ever bring a fellow-creature to join me; at others I sat, and for hours, in perfect vacuity of thought. The evening closed in; it was dark, and I still remained seated where I was. At last I returned to my bed, almost brokenhearted; but fortunately I was soon asleep, and my sorrows were forgotten. Another morning was gladdened with a brilliant sun, the dark blue ocean was scarcely ruffled by the breeze that swept over it, and I felt my spirits much revived, and my appetite returned. After taking a meal, I remembered what Jackson had told me about the belt with the diamonds, and I went up to his bed-place, and turning out the bird's skins and feathers, I raked up the gravel, which was not more than two inches deep, and came to the board. I lifted it up, and found underneath a hole, about a foot deep, full of various articles. There were the watch and sleeve buttons of the mate, some dollars wrapped in old rags, a tobacco-box, an old pipe, a brooch with hair forming initials, some letters which were signed J. Evelyn, and which I perceived were from my grandfather, and probably taken by Jackson after my mother's death. I say letters, because they were such, as I afterwards found out, but I had not then ever seen a letter, and my first attempt to decipher written hand was useless, although I did manage to make out the signature. There was in the tobacco-box a plain gold wedding-ring, probably my mother's; and there was also a lock of long dark hair, which I presumed was hers also. There were three or four specimens of what I afterwards found out to be gold and silver ores, a silver pencil-case, and a pair of small gold ear-rings. At the bottom of the hole was the belt; it was of soft leather, and I could feel a hard substance in it sewed in every square, which of course I presumed were the diamonds, but I did not cut one of the divisions open to see what was in them. It had on the upper part of it, in very plain writing, "The property of Mr J. Evelyn, 33, Minories, London." I examined all these articles one after another, and having satisfied my curiosity, I replaced them in the hole for a future survey. I covered the hole with the board, and put back the gravel and the feathers into the bed-place. This occupied me about two hours, and then I again took my former position on the rocks, and remained in a state of listless inactivity of body and mind the remainder of that day. This state of prostration lasted for many days--I may say for weeks, before it was altogether removed. I could find no pleasure in my books, which were taken up, and after a few moments laid aside. It was now within a month of the time that the birds should come to the island. I was in no want of them for sustenance; there were plenty left, but I almost loathed the sight of food. The reader may inquire how it was that I knew the exact time of the arrival of the birds? I reply that the only reckoning ever kept by Jackson and me was the arrival of the full moons, and we also made a mark on the rock every time that the moon was at the full. Thirteen moons were the quantity which we reckoned from the time of the birds appearing on the island one year, until their re-appearance the next; and twelve moons had now passed. At length, tired with everything, tired of myself, and I may say, almost tired of life, I one day took it into my head that I would take some provisions with me and a bottle to hold water, and go up the ravine, and cut firewood which should last me a long while; and that I would remain up there for several days, for I hated the sight of the cabin and of all that was near to it. The next day I acted upon this resolution, and slinging my dry provisions on my shoulder, I set off for the ravine. In an hour I had gained it; but not being in a hurry to cut wood, I resolved upon climbing higher up, to see if I could reach the opposite side of the island; that is, at least, get over the brow of the hill, to have a good view of it. I continued to climb until I had gained a smooth grassy spot, which was clear of brushwood; and as I sat down to rest myself, I observed some blue flowers which I had never seen before, indeed I did not know that there was a flower on the island. As I afterwards discovered, they were one of the varieties of Gentianellas. I looked at them, admired them, and felt quite an affection for them; they were very pretty, and they were, as well as myself, alone. Jackson, when I was pointing out the English cottages in the landscapes of "Mavor's Natural History," had told me a great deal about gardening in England, and how wild flowers and trees were transplanted and improved by culture; how roses and other plants were nailed up the walls, as I had observed in the engravings, and how they were watered and kept; and as I sat down looking at the flower, the thought occurred to me, Why should I not take it with me, and keep it for myself? I can water it, and take care of it. I resolved that I would do so, for I already looked upon the plant as a treasure. I took it up carefully with my American knife, leaving sufficient mould about the roots, and then I proceeded to ascend the hill; but before I had gone another hundred yards, I found at least a dozen more of these plants in flower, all finer than the one I had dug up, and three or four others very different from these, which were also quite new to me. I was puzzled what to do; I put down the plants I had dug up and continued my ascent, not having made up my mind. After half-an-hour's climbing, I gained the summit, and could perceive the ocean on the other side, and the other half of the island lying beneath me. It was very grand from the height I stood on, but I observed little difference between one side of the island and the other; all was rugged barren rock as on my side, with the exception of the portion close to me; this had brushwood in the ravine, which appeared to be a sort of cleft through the island. All was silent and solitary; not a bird was to be seen, and nothing that had life could I discover. I was about to return, when I thought I might as well go down the ravine facing me for a little way, and see what there was in it. I did so, and discovered some other plants that I had not seen on my side of the island. There were also some fern trees, and some twining plants running up them, and I thought to myself, Why, these plants are what I saw in the picture of the English cottages, or very like them. I wonder if they would run up my cabin? and then all at once the idea came to me that I would plant some of them round the cabin, and that I would make a garden of flowers, and have plants of my own. The reader can hardly imagine the pleasure that this idea gave me; I sat down to ruminate upon it, and felt quite happy for the time. I now recollected, however, that the cabin was built on the rock, and that plants would only grow in the earth. At first this idea chilled me, as it seemed to destroy all my schemes, but I resolved that I would bring some earth to the rock, and make my garden in that way. I at first thought of the guano, but Jackson had told me that it was only used in small proportions to enrich the soil, and would kill plants if used by itself. After an hour's consideration, during which I called to mind all that Jackson had told me on the subject, I made up my mind I would return to the cabin, and on my return ascertain how low down the ravine I could obtain earth for my garden; I would then carry the earth to the cabin, make a soil ready for the plants and flowers, and then, when all was ready, I would go up the ravine, collect what I could, and make my garden. I did so. I found that I could get soil about one-third of the way up the ravine, a quarter of a mile below where the brushwood grew; and having ascertained that, I returned to the cabin, threw down my provisions which were to have lasted me a week, and as it was late, I decided that I would not commence operations until the following day. I took out of the chest a duck frock, and tying up the sleeves and collar, so as to form a bag of the body of the frock, I set off the next morning to begin my task. That day I contrived to carry to the cabin ten or twelve bags of mould, which I put round it in a border about four feet wide, and about a foot deep. It occupied me a whole week to obtain the quantity of earth necessary to make the bed on each side of the cabin; it was hard work, but it made me cheerful and happy to what I had been before. I found that the best cure for melancholy and solitude was employment, so I thus obtained valuable knowledge as well as the making of my garden. When I had finished carrying the mould, I started off for the ravine with two bags to hold the plants which I might collect, and after a day's toil, I returned with my bags full of small shrubs, besides a bundle of creepers to plant against the sides of the cabin. The following day was occupied in planting everything I had procured. I was sorry to see that the leaves and flowers hung down, but I watered them all before I went to bed. The next morning I was delighted to perceive that they had all recovered and were looking quite fresh. But my garden was not full enough to please me, and I once more went up the ravine, selecting other plants which had no flowers on them, and one or two other shrubs, which I had not before observed. When these were planted and watered, my garden looked very gay and full of plants, and then I discovered the mould came down for want of support at the edges; I therefore went and picked up pieces of rock of sufficient size to make a border and hold up the mould, and now all was complete, and I had nothing to do but to go on watering them daily. This I did, and recollecting what Jackson had said about the guano, I got a bag of it, and put some to each plant. The good effect of this was soon observable, and before the birds came, my garden was in a very flourishing condition. I cannot express to the reader the pleasure I derived from this little garden. I knew every plant and every shrub, and talked to them as if they were companions, while I watered and tended them, which I did every night and morning, and their rapid growth was my delight. I no longer felt my solitude so irksome as I had done. I had something to look after, to interest me, and to love; they were alive as well as I was; they grew, and threw out leaves and flowers; they were grateful for the care I bestowed upon them, and became my companions and friends. I mentioned before that during the latter portion of the time I was with Jackson, he had taught me to sing several songs. Feeling tired, in my solitude, of not hearing the human voice, I found myself at first humming over, and afterwards singing aloud, the various airs I had collected from him. This afforded me much pleasure, and I used to sing half the day. I had no one to listen to me, it is true, but as my fondness for my garden increased, I used to sit down and sing to the flowers and shrubs, and fancy that they listened to me. But my stock of songs was not very large, and at last I had repeated them so often that I became tired of the words. It occurred to me that the Prayer-book had the Psalms of David at the end of it, set to music. I got the book, and as far as the airs that I knew would suit, I sang them all; never were Psalms, probably, sung to such tunes before, but it amused me, and there was no want of variety of language. Every three or four days I would go up the ravine, and search carefully for any new flower or shrub which I had not yet planted in my garden, and when I found one, as I often did, it was a source of great delight. Chapter XV At last the birds came, and I procured some of their eggs, which were a very agreeable change, after living so long upon dried meat. My want of occupation occasioned me also to employ some of my time in fishing, which I seldom had done while Jackson was alive; and this created a variety in my food, to which, for a long while, I had been a stranger. Jackson did not care for fish, as to cook it we were obliged to go up the ravine for wood, and he did not like the trouble. When the birds came, I had recourse to my book on Natural History, to read over again the accounts of the Man-of-War birds, Gannets, and other birds mentioned in it; and there was a vignette of a Chinaman with tame cormorants on a pole, and in the letter-press an account of how they were trained and employed to catch fish for their masters. This gave me the idea that I would have some birds tame, as companions, and, if possible, teach them to catch fish for me; but I knew that I must wait till the young birds were fit to be taken from the nest. I now resolved that during the time the birds were mating, I would go to the ravine and remain there several days, to collect bundles of firewood. The firewood was chiefly cut from a sort of low bush, like the sallow or willow, fit for making baskets, indeed fit for anything better than firewood; however, there were some bushes which were of a harder texture, and which burnt well. It was Jackson who told me that the former were called willow and used for making baskets, and he also shewed me how to tie the faggots up by twisting the sallows together. They were not, however, what Jackson said they were--from after knowledge, I should say that they were a species of Oleander or something of the kind. Having roasted several dozen of eggs quite hard, by way of provision, I set off one morning, and went to the ravine. As Jackson had said before, I had to walk under a wall of rock thirty feet high, and then pass through a water-course to get up to the ravine, which increased the distance to where the shrubs grew, at least half a mile. It was over this wall that the captain fell and was killed, because Jackson would not assist him. I gained the thicket where the bushes grew, and for three days I worked very hard, and had cut down and tied about fifty large faggots, when I thought that I had collected enough to last me for a long while; but I had still to carry them down, and this was a heavy task, as I could not carry more than one at a time. It occurred to me that if I threw my faggots over the wall opposite to where they had been cut down, I should save myself nearly a mile of carriage, as otherwise I had to walk all the way to the water-course which divided the wall of rock, and then walk back again. Indeed, where I cut down the wood was not more than a quarter of a mile from the bathing-pool, and all down hill. I was delighted at this idea, which I wondered had never occurred to Jackson, and I commenced putting it into execution. The top of the wall of rock was slippery from the constant trickling of the water over the surface, but this was only in some places. I carried my faggots down one by one, and threw them over, being careful not to lose my footing in so doing. I had carried all but three or four, and had become careless, when, on heaving one over, my heels were thrown up, and before I could recover myself I slid down the remainder of the ledge and was precipitated down below, a distance of more than thirty feet. I must have remained there many hours insensible, but at last I recovered and found myself lying on the faggots which I had thrown down. It was my falling on the faggots, instead of the hard rock, which had saved my life. I rose as soon as I could collect my scattered senses. I felt very sore and very much shaken, and the blood was running out of my mouth, but there were no bones broken. I was, however, too ill to attempt anything more that day. I walked home at a very slow pace and went to bed. A sound sleep restored me, and in a day or two I was quite recovered. I watered my plants, which I found drooping, as if they had grieved at my being so long away from them, and then I returned to where my faggots had been left; and to lighten my labour I resolved to carry them down to the bathing-pool and stack them up there on the rocks near to it. I mention this for reasons that the reader will comprehend bye-and-bye. This occupied me two days, for I was not inclined, after my fall, to work hard; and very glad was I when the labour was over. The young birds were now hatched, but I had to wait four or five weeks before they were fit to be taken. I began again to find solitude tedious. The flowers in my garden had all bloomed and withered, and there was not so much to interest me. I recommenced reading the Bible, and the narratives in the Old and New Testaments again afforded me pleasure. I hardly need say to the reader that I read the Bible as I would have read any other book--for amusement, and not for instruction. I had learnt little from Jackson--indeed, as regards the true nature of the Christian religion, I may say, nothing at all. I do not believe that he knew anything about it himself. It is true that the precepts in the New Testament struck me, and that I was more interested about Our Saviour than anybody else; but I could not comprehend him, or his mission. In short, I read in darkness; and I may say that I almost knew the Bible by heart without understanding it.--How could I? How many thousands are there who do the same, without having an excuse to offer for their blindness! At last the time for taking the birds arrived, and I had then sufficient employment to keep me from being melancholy. I collected quite as many as we had done when Jackson and I had to be provided for; and with my new knives my labour was comparatively easy. As soon as I had completed my provision, I went back to take the young birds which already I had selected and left for that purpose. It was high time, for I found that when I went to take them they were ready to fly. However, after a good battle with the old birds (for I had taken six young ones--two from each nest, which arrayed a force of six old ones against me, who fought very valiantly in defence of their offspring), I succeeded in carrying them off, but followed by the old birds, who now screamed and darted close to me as they came pursuing me to the cabin. As soon as I got safe back, I took the young birds into the cabin, tying each of them by the leg with a piece of fishing line, and the other end of the line I fastened to some pieces of rock which I had collected ready on the platform outside of the cabin. The old birds continued to persecute me till it was dark, and then they went away, and I, tired with my day's labour, was not sorry to go to sleep. When I woke up the next morning, I found the old birds on the platform, in company with the young ones, I presume trying to persuade them to fly away with them; but the lines on their legs prevented that. They did not leave at my approach for some little while; at last they all took wing, and went off to sea; but in the course of a few minutes they returned with some small fish in their mouths, with which they fed their young ones. They continued to do this for the two following days, when there was a general break up, announcing the departure of the main body, which, after much soaring and wheeling in the air, flew off in a northerly direction. The six parent birds, who were with their young ones at the cabin, appeared for some time very uneasy, flying round and round and screaming wildly; at last they soared in the air with loud shrieks, and flew away after the main body, which was still in sight--their love for their young overpowered by their instinctive habits. I was not sorry when they were gone, as I wanted to have my new family all to myself. I went down to the rocks and caught a fish, which was large enough to supply them for three or four days. I fed them with the inside of the fish, and they ate it very heartily. For several days they appeared very uneasy; but gradually they settled, and not only appeared to know me, but to welcome my coming, which was to me a source of great pleasure. I now neglected my flowers for the birds, which were the more animated of the two; and I sat down for hours on the platform with my six companions, who I must own were not over-lively and intelligent, but they were alive, and had eyes. They seldom roused up, unless I brought them fish, of which they had a supply four times a day, and then they would stand on their legs and open their beaks far apart, each waiting for its share. They were a great happiness to me, and I watched their gradual increase of plumage and of size, which was very rapid. I gave them all names out of my Natural History book. One was Lion, then Tiger, Panther, Bear, Horse, and Jackass (at the time that I named them, the last would have been very appropriate to them all); and as I always called them by their names as I fed them, I soon found, to my great joy, that they knew them well enough. This delighted me. I read my books to them by way of amusement; I sang my songs to them; I talked to them; I would even narrate the various histories out of the Bible to them, such as that of Joseph and his brethren, &c., and the stolid air with which the communications were received made me almost imagine they were listened to. After a time, I took the line off the legs of two of them, with the precaution of first cutting their wings, and these two became much more lively, following me into the cabin and generally staying there during the night. As I found that no attempt was made to escape, I let them all loose, after having cut their wings, and they all behaved equally well with the two first to which I had given their liberty. The perfect obedience and good behaviour of my new companions again gave me leisure that was not altogether desirable, as it left a vacuum to fill up. But I returned to my garden. I could do no more at present but water my plants and look at the increased daily growth of the climbers, as they now boldly ascended the sides of the cabin; but I thought it was high time to go up into the ravine and about the island, to see if I could not add to my collection. One morning I set off up the ravine. I was not successful, so I contented myself with carrying, by the long road, those faggots which I had left behind me on the day when I fell over the precipice. This labour I finished, and then returned to the cabin, where I was met by my birds with half-extended wings and open mouths, as if they were very glad to see me, and very hungry into the bargain. I ought to observe that my birds appeared now to separate into pairs, male and female, as their difference of plumage denoted. Lion and Horse were always side by side, as were Jackass and Bear, and Tiger and Panther. I now fed them one by one, calling them by name, to which they immediately responded, and if anyone came who was not called, it was switched for its trouble. The next morning I set off on another voyage of discovery after plants, and this time I resolved upon trying what I could find among the crevices of the rocks, for I had seen at a distance what appeared to me to be a very pretty flower on the ledge of one of the clefts. I did not go up the ravine this time, but commenced climbing the rocks behind where the cabin was built. It was hard work, but I was not easily discouraged, and after a couple of hours I arrived at a level which I had in view when I commenced my labour, and here I was amply rewarded, for I found several plants quite new to me, and a variety of ferns, which I thought very beautiful, although they had no flowers. The scene, from where I stood, was awful and beautiful. I looked down upon the rocks below, and the cabin, which appeared very small, and I thought that I could see my birds like dots upon the platform. It was a bright day and smooth water, I could clearly distinguish the other islands in the distance, and I thought that I saw something like a white speck close to them--perhaps it was a vessel. This made me melancholy, and I could not help asking myself whether I was to remain all my life upon the island, alone, or if there were any chance of my ever being taken off it. As I looked down upon the cabin, I was surprised at the steepness of the rocks which I had climbed, and felt alarmed, as if I never should be able to get back again. But these thoughts were soon chased away. I turned from the seaward, and looked inland. I found that on one side of me there was a chasm between the rocks, the bottom of which was so far down that I could not see it; and on the other side the rock rose up as straight as a wall. My attention was soon diverted by discovering another plant, and I now commenced my task of digging them all up. I obtained, with the ferns, about twenty new varieties, which I made up in a bundle ready for carrying down slung round my neck, for I knew that I should require both hands to descend with. Then I sat down to rest myself a little before I commenced my return, and after I had been seated a few minutes, I thought I would sing a song by way of amusement. Chapter XVI I have before said that, tired of repeating the words of the songs which Jackson had taught me, I had taken those of Psalms in metre, at the end of the Prayer-book, by way of variety; and, as far as metre went, they answered very well, although people would have been surprised to have heard Psalms sung to such quick and varied measure. The Psalm I chose this time was the first--"How blest is he who ne'er consents;" and I began accordingly; but when I came to the end of the line, to my astonishment I heard a plaintive voice, at a distance, repeat after me "con-sents." I looked round. I thought I must have been deceived, so I continued--"By ill advice to walk." This time I could not be mistaken--"to walk" was repeated by the same voice as plainly as possible. I stopped singing, lost in wonder. There must be somebody on the island as well as myself, thought I; for I never had heard an echo before, except when it thundered, and such echoes I had put down as a portion of the thunder. "Who's there?" cried I. "Who's there?" replied the voice. "It's me!" "It's me!" was the answer. I did not know what to make of it. I cried out again and again, and again and again I heard what I said repeated, but no answer to my questions. I thought I was insulted by somebody, and yet, when I listened, the voice that spoke came from the face of the rock on the other side of the chasm, and no one could be there without my seeing them. This made me think that I was mistaken, and that there could not be anybody, but still I could not solve the mystery. At last I became frightened, and as the sun was now setting, I determined to get back to the cabin. I did so, and went down much faster than I had gone up, for as it grew dark I became the more alarmed. The only thing that re-assured me was the softness and plaintiveness of the voice--not like Jackson's, but as of someone who would not think of injuring me. Although I was, generally speaking, quiet and content with my isolated position, yet it was only when I was employed or amused with my favourites. At times, I could not find anything to do, and was overcome by weariness. I would then throw away my books, and remain for hours thinking upon the probability of my ever again seeing a fellow creature; and a fit of melancholy would come over me, which would last many days. I was in one of these moods, when it occurred to me, that, although I had seen the other side of the island from the summit, I had not gone down to the beach to explore it; and I resolved that I would do so, making a trip of three or four days. When my knives had become blunt, Jackson had told me how to sharpen them, by rubbing the blades upon a hard flat piece of rock, wetted with water. This I had found to answer very well, and I now determined I would try and sharpen one of the old axes in the same way, so as to make it serviceable, for I was very much afraid of breaking my knives in cutting down the brushwood, and I knew how much more rapidly it could be done with an axe. I picked out a large stone, suitable for the purpose, and with a kid of water at hand, I set-to to sharpen the axe. It was a long job, but in a day or two I had succeeded admirably, and the axe was in good order. I then thought how I could leave my birds for so many days, as they would require food. At last, I considered that if I caught two large fish and cut them up, they would be sufficient for their sustenance. I did so, and provided with a packet of dried birds for food, tied up in a duck frock, with my Natural History book for amusement, a pannikin to get water in, my axe on my shoulder, and my knives by my side--I first kissed all the birds, and told them to remain quiet and good till I came back--I set off on a bright clear morning on my tour of examination. In a couple of hours I had gained the summit of the island, and prepared for my descent, by sitting down and eating my dinner. I observed that, as before, the water on the other side of the island was quite smooth, compared to what it was on the side where I resided. It was, in fact, from the prevailing winds during the year, the lee side of the island. Having rested myself sufficiently, I commenced my descent, which I accomplished in little less time than it took me to ascend from the other side. As I neared the rocks by the shore, I thought I perceived something occasionally moving about on them. I was not mistaken, for as I came closer, I found that there were several large animals lying on the rocks, and occasionally dropping into the sea close to them. The sight of anything living was to me of great interest. I determined to get nearer, and ascertain what animals they were. At last, by creeping along from rock to rock, I arrived to within forty yards of them. I recollected some animals of the same shape in my book of Natural History, which, fortunately, I had with me in the duck frock, and sitting down behind the rock, I pulled it out, and turned over the pages until I came to a print which exactly answered to their appearance. It was the Seal. Having satisfied myself on that point, I read the history of the animal, and found that it was easily tamed, and very affectionate when taken young, and also might be easily killed by a blow on the nose. These, at least, were for me the two most important pieces of information. It occurred to me that it would be very pleasant to have a young seal for a playmate (for the Gannets, after all, were not very intelligent), and I resolved to obtain one if I could. I put down my duck frock with my provisions behind the rock, and taking my axe in my hand, I cautiously advanced to where the animals lay. There were about twenty of them all together on one rock, but they were all large, and seemed to be about five or six feet long. I could not see a small one anywhere, so I walked in behind the rocks farther to the right, towards another rock, where I saw another batch of them lying. As I neared them, I saw by herself a seal with a young one by her side, not more than two feet long. This was what I wanted. They lay at some distance from the water, upon a low rock. I watched them for some time, and was much amused at the prattling which passed between the old and the young one. I thought that to obtain the young one, I must of course kill the old one, for I perceived that it had large teeth. I considered it advisable to get between them and the water, that they might not escape me, and I contrived so to do before I made my appearance. As soon as the old one perceived me running to them, it gave a shrill cry, and then floundered towards the water; as we came close together, it showed its teeth, and rose upon its flappers to defend itself and its young one, which kept close to its side; but a blow on its nose with the axe rendered it motionless, and apparently dead. Delighted with my success, I seized hold of the young one and took it in my arms, and was carrying it away, when I found myself confronted with the male seal, which, alarmed by the cry of the female, had come to her assistance. It was much larger than the female, with more shaggy hair about the neck and shoulders, and apparently very fierce. I could not pass it, as it was in shore of me, and I had just time to drop the young seal, and leap behind a rock on one side, with my axe all ready. The animal reared itself on the rock to pass over to me, when I saluted it with a blow on the head, which staggered it. I had lost my presence of mind by the creature coming upon me so unexpectedly, and my blow was not well aimed, but before it could recover the first blow, another on its nose tumbled it over, to all appearance lifeless. I then hastened to gain the other side of the rock, where I had left the young seal, and found that it had crept to its mother's body, and was fondling it. I took it in my arms, and retreated to where I had left my duck frock, and throwing everything else out, I put the animal in, and tied up the end, so that it could not escape. I then sat down to recover myself from the excitement occasioned by this first engagement I had ever been in, quite delighted with my newly-acquired treasure. I then thought what I should do. It was now within an hour of dark, and was too late to return to the other side of the island, or I would have done so, as I was anxious to get my seal home. At last I decided that I would go farther from the beach, and take up my quarters for the night. I collected my provision, and with my seal under my arm, I walked away about one hundred yards from the water's edge, and took up a position under a large rock; here I ate my supper, and then untied the line which closed up the frock, and had a parting look at my little friend before I went to sleep. He had struggled a good deal at first, but was now quiet, although he occasionally made attempts to bite me. I coaxed him and fondled him a good deal, and then put him into his bag again, and made him secure, which appeared to annoy him very much, as he was not half as quiet in a bag as he was when I held him in my lap. I then took my book to read over again the history of the seal, and I found that their skins were valuable, and also that they gave a great deal of oil, but I had no use for oil, though I thought that their skins might be very comfortable in my bed-place. I shut my book and lay down to sleep, but I could not obtain any till near daylight, I had been so excited, and was so anxious about my treasure. The sun shining in my eyes woke me up; I found my seal was lying very quiet; I touched him to see that he was not dead, and the cry that he gave assured me to the contrary. I then walked back to where I had left the bodies of the parents. I found on examination that they were both dead, and also that their furs were very beautiful, and I resolved that I would have their skins. But here was a difficulty. If I took off the skins, I could not carry them with me, and I was anxious to get the young one home, lest it should die of hunger, so I decided that I would first take home the young one, give it food and warm it, and then return and skin the old ones. I therefore made my breakfast, and leaving the remainder of my provision in a cleft in the rock, that I might not have the trouble of bringing it again, I set off on my return, and used such diligence that I was back at the cabin by noon. I found my birds all well, and apparently quite satisfied with the provision that I had left them, for they were most of them asleep, and those that were awake did not notice my arrival. "Ah," thought I, "you only like me for what I give you; next time I go away I will leave you hungry, and then when you see me come back, you will all flutter your wings with gladness." I was puzzled where to put my seal so as to keep him safe: at last I decided upon opening the seaman's chest and putting him in that. I did so, and gave him a piece of fish which the birds had not eaten. The little creature devoured it eagerly, and I took my lines and went down to catch some fish for a further supply. In half an hour I returned with two large fish, and I then took the seal out of the chest and fed him again. He ate very heartily; and I was glad to perceive that he appeared much tamer already. I threw some of the insides of the fish to the birds, who were now become of very inferior interest to me. Having fed my animals, I then thought of myself, and, as I took my meal, I arranged that the next morning I would go over to the other side of the island, skin the two seals, and spread out the skins on the rocks to dry, and would leave them there till I had a better opportunity of bringing them to the cabin; at present I could not be away from my new acquaintance, which I wished to make tame and fond of me. Having fed him again in the morning, I put down the lid of the chest, and then started for the lee side of the island. Chapter XVII I arrived early, skinned both the seals, and dragged the skins up from the water-side, though with difficulty, especially that of the large one, to the rock where I had taken up my quarters the night before. Here I spread them out to dry, putting large pieces of rock upon the edges, that they might not be blown away. It was nearly dusk when I had finished, but I set off, and an hour after dark arrived at the cabin; for now that I knew my way so well, I got over the ground twice as fast as I did before. I crawled into my bed-place in the dark, and slept soundly after my fatigue. I awoke the next morning with the plaintive cry of my seal in the chest, and I hastened to get some fish to feed him with. I took him out and fed him; and was astonished how tame the little animal had become already. He remained very quietly with me after he had been fed, nestling close to my side, as if I had been his mother, and even making a half attempt to follow me when I left him. My birds appeared very dull and stupid, and I observed also that they were very dirty, and always rushed to the kid when it was full of water, trying to get into it. This made me think that they required bathing in salt water, and I took one down to the bathing-pool, with a long line to its leg, and put it in. The manner in which the poor creature floundered, and dipped and washed itself, for several minutes, proved my supposition correct; so, after allowing it half an hour for its recreation, I took it back, and went down with the others until they had all indulged in the luxury of a bath; and from that time, as I took them down almost every day, it was astonishing how much brighter and sleeker their plumage became. I remained a week in the cabin, taming my seal, which now was quite fond of me; and one night, as I was going to bed, he crawled into my bed-place, and from that time he was my bed-fellow. At the end of a week I went over to the other side of the island, and contrived to carry up the two skins to the summit. It was a hard day's work. The day afterwards I conveyed them to the cabin, and, as they were quite dry, I put them into my bed-place to lie down upon, as I did not like the smell of the birds' feathers, although I had so long been accustomed to them. And now, what with my seal, my birds, and my garden, and the occupation they gave me, the time passed quickly away, until, by my reckoning, it was nearly the period for the birds to come again. I observed, as the time drew near, that my birds were uneasy. They had paired, as I mentioned before, and when their plumage was complete, it was evident that they had paired male and female, as I had supposed. They had not been tethered for a long while, and appeared to me now very much inclined to fly, especially the male birds. At first I thought that I would cut all their wings, as I was fearful that they would join the other birds on their arrival, but observing that they were so fond of their mates, I resolved to cut the wing of the females only, as I did not think that the male birds would leave them. I did so, and took my chance; for since I had the seal for a companion, I did not care so much for the birds as before. At last the birds came, and took possession of the guano-ground as usual, and I went for fresh eggs; at the same time I found that my females were scratching, as if they would make their nests, and a few days afterwards they began to lay. I then thought that as soon as they had young ones they would wish to go away, so I took the eggs that were laid, to prevent them, but I found that as fast as I took away the eggs they laid more, and this they did for nearly two months, supplying me with fresh eggs long after the wild birds had hatched, and left the island. The male birds, at the time that the females first laid their eggs, tried their wings in short flights in circles, and then flew away out to sea. I thought that they were gone, but I was deceived, for they returned in about a quarter of an hour, each with a fish in its beak, which they laid down before their mates. I was much pleased at this, and I resolved that in future they should supply their own food, which they did; and not their own food only, but enough for the seal and me also when the weather was fine, but when it was rough, they could not obtain any, and then I was obliged to feed them. The way I obtained from them the extra supply of fish was, that when they first went out, I seized, on their return, the fish which they brought, and as often as I did this they would go for more, until the females were fed. But I had one difficulty to contend with, which was, that at the time the birds could not obtain fish, which was when the weather was rough, I could not either, as they would not take the bait. After some cogitation, I decided that I would divide a portion of the bathing-pool farthest from the shore, by a wall of loose rock which the water could flow through, but which the fish could not get out of, and that I would catch fish in the fine weather to feed the seal and the birds when the weather was rough and bad. As soon as I had finished curing my stock of provisions and got it safely housed in the cabin, I set to work to make this wall, which did not take me a very long while, as the water was not more than two feet deep, and the pool about ten yards across. As soon as it was finished, I went out every day, when it was fine, and caught as many fish as I thought I might require, and put them into this portion of the bathing-pool. I found the plan answer well, as the fish lived, but I had great difficulty in getting them out when I wanted them, for they would not take the bait. As my birds were no longer a trouble to me, but rather, on the contrary, a profit, I devoted my whole time to my seal. I required a name for him, and reading in the book of Natural History that a certain lion was called Nero, I thought it a very good name for a seal, and bestowed it on him accordingly, although what Nero meant I had no idea of. The animal was now so tame that he would cry if ever I left him, and would follow me as far as he could down the rocks, but there was one part of the path leading to the bathing-pool which was too difficult for him, and there he would remain crying till I came back. I had more than once taken him down to the bathing-pool to wash him, and he was much pleased when I did. I now resolved that I would clear the path of the rocks, that he might be able to follow me down the whole way, for he had grown so much that I found him too heavy to carry. It occupied me a week before I could roll away and remove the smaller rocks, and knock off others with the axe, but I finished it at last, and was pleased to find that the animal followed me right down and plunged into the water. He had not been down since I had made the wall of rock to keep the fish in, and as soon as he was in, he dived and came out with one of the fish, which he brought to land. "So now," thought I, "I shall know how to get the fish when I want them--I shall bring you down, Nero." I may as well here observe that Nero very soon obeyed orders as faithfully as a dog. I had a little switch, and when he did wrong, I would give him a slight tap on the nose. He would shake his head, show his teeth, and growl, and then come fondly to me. As he used to follow me every day down to the pool, I had to break him off going after the fish when I did not want them taken, and this I accomplished. No one who had not witnessed it, could imagine the affection and docility of this animal, and the love I had for him. He was my companion and playmate during the day, and my bedfellow at night. We were inseparable. It was at the latter portion of the second year of my solitude that a circumstance occurred, that I must now relate. Nero had gone down to the pool with me, and I was standing fishing off the rocks, when he came out of the pool and plunged into the sea, playing all sorts of gambols, and whistling with delight. I did not think anything about it. He plunged and disappeared for a few minutes, and then would come up again close to where my line was, but he disturbed the fish and I could not catch any. To drive him farther off, I pelted him with pieces of rock, one of which hit him very hard, and he dived down. After a time I pulled up my line, and whistling to him to return, although I did not see him, I went away to the cabin, fully expecting that he would soon follow me, for now he could walk (after his fashion) from the cabin to the pool as he pleased. This was early in the morning, and I busied myself with my garden, which was now in great luxuriance, for I had dressed it with guano; but observing about noon that he had not returned, I became uneasy, and went down to the pool to look for him. He was not there, and I looked on the sea, but could not perceive him anywhere. I called and whistled, but it was of no use, and I grew very much alarmed at the idea that my treasure had deserted me. "It could not be because I threw the pieces of rock at him," thought I; "he would not leave me for that." I remained for two or three hours, watching for him, but it was all in vain; there was no seal--no Nero,--my heart sank at the idea of the animal having deserted me, and for the first time in my life, as far as I can recollect, I burst into a flood of tears. For the first time in my life, I may say, I felt truly miserable--my whole heart and affections were set upon this animal, the companion and friend of my solitude, and I felt as if existence were a burden without him. After a while, I retraced my steps to the cabin, but I was miserable, more so than I can express. I could not rest quiet. Two hours before sunset, I went down again to the rocks, and called till I was hoarse. It was all in vain; night closed in, and again I returned to the cabin, and threw myself down in my bed-place in utter despair. "I thought he loved me," said I to myself, "loved me as I loved him; I would not have left him in that way." And my tears burst out anew at the idea that I never should see my poor Nero again. The reader may think that my grief was inordinate and unwarrantable, but let him put himself in my position--a lad of sixteen, alone on a desolate island, with only one companion--true, he was an animal, and could not speak, but he was affectionate; he replied to all my caresses; he was my only companion and friend, the only object that I loved or cared about. He was intelligent, and I thought loved me as much as I loved him, and now he had deserted me, and I had nothing else that I cared about or that cared for me. My tears flowed for more than an hour, till at last I was wearied and fell asleep. Chapter XVIII It was early in the morning, and yet dark, when I felt something touch me. I started up--a low cry of pleasure told me at once that it was Nero, who was by my side. Yes, it was Nero, who had come back, having climbed up again the steep path to the cabin, to return to his master. Need I say that I was overjoyed, that I hugged him as if he had been a human being, that I wept over him, and that in a few minutes afterwards we were asleep together in the same bed-place. Such was the fact, and never was there in my after life, so great a transition from grief to joy. "Oh! now, if you had left me,"--said I to him, the next morning, when I got up; "you naughty seal, to frighten me and make me so unhappy as you did!" Nero appeared quite as happy as I was at our reunion, and was more affectionate than ever. I must now pass over many months in very few words, just stating to the reader what my position was at the end of three years, during which I was alone upon the island. I had now arrived at the age of near seventeen, and was tall and strong for my years. I had left off wearing my dress of the skins of birds, having substituted one of the seaman's shirts, which I had found in the chest. This, however, was the whole of my costume, and although, had it been longer it would have been more correct, still, as I had no other companion but Nero, it was not necessary to be so very particular, as if I had been in society. During these three years, I think I had read the Bible and Prayer-book, and my Natural History book, at least five or six times quite through, and possessing a retentive memory, could almost repeat them by heart; but still I read the Bible as a sealed book, for I did not understand it, having had no one to instruct me, nor any grace bestowed upon me. I read for amusement, and nothing more. My garden was now in a most flourishing condition, the climbing plants had overrun the cabin, so as to completely cover the whole of the roof and every portion of it, and they hung in festoons on each side of the door-way. Many of the plants which I had taken up small, when I moved them, had proved to be trees, and were now waving to the breeze, high above the cabin roof; and everything that I had planted, from continual watering and guano, had grown most luxuriantly. In fact, my cabin was so covered and sheltered, that its original form had totally disappeared, it now looked like an arbour in a clump of trees, and from the rocks by the bathing-pool it had a very picturesque appearance. I had, of course, several times gone up the ravine, and now that my axe had become useful, I had gradually accumulated a large stock of wood down by the bathing-pool, more than I could use for a long while, as I seldom lighted a fire, but the cutting it was employment, and employment was to me a great source of happiness. I had been several times to the other side of the island, and had had more encounters with the seals, of which I killed many, for I found their skins very comfortable and useful in the cabin. I had collected about three dozen of the finest skins, which were more than I required, but I had taken them for the same reason that I had collected the firewood, for the sake of employment, and in this instance, I may add, for the sake of the excitement which the combats with the seals afforded me. I have not narrated any of these conflicts, as I thought that they might weary the reader, I must, however, state what occurred on one occasion, as although ludicrous, it nearly cost me my life. I had attacked a large male seal, with a splendid fur, for I always looked out for the best skinned animals. He was lying on a rock close to the water, and I had gone into the water to cut him off and prevent his escape by plunging in, as he would otherwise have done; but as I aimed the usual blow at his nose, my foot slipped on the wet rock, and I missed the animal, and at the same time fell down on the rock with the axe in my hand. The animal, which was a male of the largest size, seized hold of my shirt (which I then wore) with his teeth, and, plunging with me into the sea, dived down into the deep water. It was fortunate that he had seized my shirt instead of my body, and also that I could swim well. He carried me along with him--the shirt, for a few seconds, drawn over my head, when, disembarrassing myself of the garment, by slipping my head and arms out, I left it in his possession, and regained the surface of the water, almost suffocated. It was fortunate that I did not wear sleeve-buttons; had I had them, I could not have disengaged myself, and must have perished. I climbed the rock again, and turning round, I perceived the seal on the surface, shaking the shirt in great wrath. This was a sad discomfiture, as I lost not only my shirt but my axe, which I dropped when I was dragged into the water; nothing was saved except my knife, which I carried by a lanyard round my neck. Why I mention this circumstance particularly, is, that having felt great inconvenience for want of sleeve-buttons to hold the wristbands of my shirt together, I had thought of making use of those of the mate, which the reader may recollect had been given with his watch into Jackson's care, to take home to his wife; but on second consideration I thought it very possible I might lose them, and decided that the property was in trust, and that I had no right to risk it. This correct feeling on my part, therefore, was probably the saving of my life. I have only now to mention my birds, and of them I can merely say that they went on as before; they bathed constantly, at the right season they laid eggs, the male birds caught fish and brought them to the cabin, and they were just as stupid and uninteresting as they were at first; however, they never left me, nor indeed shewed any intention to leave me, after the first season of the birds returning to the island. They were useful but not very ornamental, and not at all interesting to one who had such an intelligent companion as Nero. Having now brought up my history, in a few words, until the time referred to, I come to the narrative of what occurred to produce a change in my condition. I have said that in the chest there was a spy-glass, but it had been wetted with salt-water, and was useless. Jackson had tried to shew me how to use it, and had shewn me correctly, but the glasses were dimmed by the wet and subsequent evaporation from heat. I had taken out all the glasses and cleaned them, except the field-glass as it is called, but that being composed of two glasses, the water had penetrated between them, and it still remained so dull that nothing could be distinguished through it, at the time that Jackson was shewing me how to use the instrument; it was therefore put on one side as useless. A year afterwards, I took it out, from curiosity, and then I discovered that the moisture between the two glasses had been quite dried up, and that I could see very clearly through it, and after a little practice I could use it as well as anybody else. Still I seldom did use it, as my eyesight was particularly keen, and I did not require it, and as for any vessel coming off the island, I had gradually given up all thoughts of it. It was one evening when the weather was very rough and the sea much agitated, that I thought I saw something unusual on the water, about four miles distant. I supposed at first it might be a spermaceti whale, for numbers used to play round the island at certain seasons, and I used to watch their blowing and their gambols, if I may use the term, and Jackson often told me long stories about the whale fisheries; but a ray of the setting sun made the object appear white, and I ran for the glass, and made out that it was a boat or a very small vessel, with a sail out, and running before the gale right down to the island. I watched it till it was dark with much interest, and with thoughts of various kinds chasing each other; and then I began to consider what was best to do. I knew that in an hour the moon would rise, and as the sky was not cloudy, although the wind and sea were high, I should probably be able to see it again. "But they never can get on shore on this side of the island," thought I, "with so much sea. Yes they might, if they ran for the bathing-pool." After thinking a while, I decided that I would go down to the bathing-pool, and place lighted faggots on the rocks on each side of the entrance, as this would shew them where to run for, and how to get in. I waited a little longer, and then taking my spy-glass and some tinder with me, I went down to the pool, carried two faggots to the rocks on each side, and having set them on fire and taken up others to replace them as soon as they were burnt out, I sat down with my spy-glass to see if I could make out where the boat might be. As the moon rose, I descried her now within a mile of the island, and her head directed towards the beacon lights made by the burning faggots. I threw another faggot on each and went down for a further supply. The gale had increased, and the spray now dashed over the rocks to where the faggots were burning, and threatened to extinguish them, but I put on more wood and kept up a fierce blaze. In a quarter of an hour I could distinguish the boat; it was now close to the island, perhaps three hundred yards distant, steering not directly for the lights, but more along shore. The fact was that they had hauled up, not knowing how they could land until they had observed the two lights clear of each other, and then they understood why they had been made; and a moment afterwards they bore up right for the entrance to the bathing-pool, and came rushing on before the rolling seas. I still trembled for them, as I knew that if the sea receded at the time that they came to the ledge of rocks at the entrance, the boat would be dashed to pieces, although their lives might be saved, but fortunately for them, it was not so--on the contrary, they came in borne up on a huge wave which carried them clear over the ledge, right up to the wall of rock which I had made across the pool, and then the boat grounded. "Hurrah! well done, that," said a voice from the boat. "Lower away the sail, my lads; all's right." The sail was lowered down, and then, by the light of the fire, I discovered that there were several people in the boat. I had been too much excited to say anything; indeed, I did not know what to say. I only felt that I was no more alone, and the reader may imagine my joy and delight. Chapter XIX As soon as the sail was lowered, the men leaped over the sides of the boat into the water, and waded to the rocks. "Who are you?" said one of the men, addressing me, "and how many of you are there here?" "There is no one on the island but myself," replied I; "but I'm so glad that you have come." "Are you? Then perhaps you'll tell us how to get something to eat, my hearty?" replied he. "Oh yes, wait a little, and I'll bring you plenty," replied I. "Well, then, look smart, that's a beauty, for we are hungry enough to eat you, if you can find us nothing better." I was about to go up to the cabin for some birds, when another man called out-- "I say--can you get us any water?" "Oh yes, plenty," replied I. "Well then, I say, Jim, hand us the pail out of the boat." The one addressed did so, and the man put it into my hands, saying, "Bring us that pail, boy, will you?" I hastened up to the cabin, filled the pail full of water, and then went for a quantity of dried birds, with which I hastened down again to the bathing-pool; I found the men had not been idle, they had taken some faggots off the stack and made a large fire under the rocks, and were then busy making a sort of tent with the boat's sails. "Here's the water, and here's some birds," said I, as I came up to them. "Birds! what birds?" said the man who had first spoken to me, and appeared to have control over the rest. He took one up and examined it by the light of the fire, exclaiming, "Queer eating, I expect." "Why, you didn't expect a regular hotel when you landed, did you, mate?" said one of the men. "No, if I had, I would have called for a glass of grog," replied he. "I suspect I might call a long while before I get anyone to bring me one here." As I knew that Jackson called the rum by the name of grog, I said, "There's plenty of grog, if you want any." "Is there, my hearty,--where?" "Why, in that cask that's in the water on the other side of your little ship," replied I. "I can draw you some directly." "What! in that cask? Grog floating about in salt water, that's too bad. Come here all of you--You're in earnest, boy--no joking I hope, or you may repent it." "I'm not joking," said I--"there it is." The man, followed by all the rest, excepting one of the party, waded into the water, and went to the cask of rum. "Take care," said I, "the spiles are in." "So I see--never fear, my hearty--come now all of us." So saying, the whole of them laid hold of the cask by the chains, and lifting it up, they carried it clean out of the water, and placed it on the rocks by the side of the pool. "Hand us the little kid out of the boat, Jim," said the man; "we'll soon see if it's the right stuff." He took out the spiles, drew off some of the liquor, and tasting it, swore it was excellent. It was then handed round, and all the men took some. "We're in luck to-night; we're fallen upon our legs," said the first man. "I say, Jim, put them dried chickens into the pitch-kettle along with some taters out of the bag--they'll make a good mess; and then with this cask of grog to go to, we shan't do badly." "I say, old fellow," said he, turning to me, "you're a regular trump. Who left you on shore to get all ready for us?" "I was born here," replied I. "Born here! well, we'll hear all about that to-morrow--just now, we'll make up for lost time, for we've had nothing to eat or drink since Wednesday morning. Look alive, my lads! get up the hurricane-house. Jim, put the pail of water into the kettle, and send the islander here for another pailful, for grog." The pail was handed to me, and I soon returned with it full, and, as I did not see that they had a pannikin, I brought one down and gave it to them. "You're a fine boy," said the mate; (as I afterwards found out that he was). "And now, I say, where do you hold out? Have you a hut or a cave to live in?" "Yes," replied I; "I have a cabin, but it is not large enough for all of you." "No, no! we don't want to go there--we are very well where we are, alongside of the cask of rum, but you see, my lad, we have a woman here." "A woman!" said I; "I never saw a woman. Where is she?" "There she is, sitting by the fire." I looked round, and perceived that there was one of the party wrapped up in a blanket, and with a wide straw hat on the head, which completely concealed the form from me. The fact is, that the woman looked like a bundle, and remained by the fire quite as inanimate. At my saying that I never saw a woman, the man burst into a loud laugh. "Why, did you not say that you were born on the island, boy?" said the mate at last. "Were you born without a mother?" "I cannot recollect my mother--she died when I was very young; and therefore I said, that I had never seen a woman." "Well, that's explained; but you see, my lad--this is not only a woman, but a very particular sort of a woman; and it will not do for her to remain here after we have had our supper--for after supper, the men may take a drop too much, and not behave themselves; so I asked you about your cabin, that you might take her there to sleep. Can you do that?" "Yes," replied I; "I will take her there, if she wishes to go." "That's all right then, she'll be better there than here, at all events. I say, boy, where did you leave your trousers?" "I never wear any." "Well then, if you have any, I advise you to put them on, for you are quite old enough to be breeched." I remained with them while the supper was cooking, asking all manner of questions, which caused great mirth. The pitch kettle, which was a large iron pot on three short legs, surprised me a good deal, I had never seen such a thing before, or anything put on the fire. I asked what it was, and what it was made of. The potatoes also astonished me, as I had never yet seen an edible root. "Why, where have you been all your life?" said one of the men. "On this island," replied I, very naively. I waded into the water to examine the boat as well as I could by the light of the fire, but I could see little, and was obliged to defer my examination till the next day. Before the supper was cooked and eaten, I did, however, gain the following information. That they were a portion of the crew of a whaler, which had struck on a reef of rocks about seventy miles off, and that they had been obliged to leave her immediately, as she fell on her broadside a few minutes afterwards; that they had left in two boats, but did not know what had become of the other boat, which parted company during the night. The captain and six men were in the other boat, and the mate with six men in the one which had just landed--besides the lady. "What's a lady?" said I. "I mean the woman who sits there; her husband was killed by some of the people of the Sandwich Isles, and she was going home to England. We have a consort, another whaler, who was to have taken our cargo of oil on board, and to have gone to England with that and her own cargo, and the missionary's wife was to have been sent home in her." "What's a missionary?" inquired I. "Well, I don't exactly know; but he is a preacher who goes out to teach the savages." By this time the supper was cooked, and the odour from the pitch kettle was more savoury than anything that I had ever yet smelt. The kettle was lifted off the fire, the contents of it poured into a kid, and after they had given a portion in the small kid to the woman, who still remained huddled up in the blanket by the fire, they all sat round the large kid, and commenced their supper. "Come, boy, and join us," said the mate, "you can't have had your supper; and as you've found one for us, it's hard but you should share it with us." I was not sorry to do as he told me, and I must say that I never enjoyed a repast so much in my life. "I say, boy, have you a good stock of them dried chickens of yours?" said the mate. "Yes, I have a great many, but not enough to last long for so many people." "Well, but we can get more, can't we?" "No!" replied I, "not until the birds come again, and that will not be for these next five moons." "Five moons! what do you mean?" "I mean, five full moons must come, one after another." "Oh, I understand; why then we must not remain on the island." "No," replied I, "we must all go, or we shall starve; I am so glad that you are come, and the sooner you go the better. Will you take Nero with you?" "Who is Nero?" "Nero--my seal--he's very tame." "Well, we'll see about it; at all events," said he, turning to the other men, "we must decide upon something, and that quickly, for we shall starve if we remain here any time." It appeared that they had left the whaler in such a hurry, that they had only had time to throw into the boat two breakers of water, four empty breakers to fill with saltwater for ballast to the boat, and the iron pitch kettle, with a large sack of potatoes. As soon as supper was finished, they went to the cask for the rum, and then the mate said to me-- "Now I'll go and speak to the woman, and you shall take her to sleep in your cabin." During the whole of this time the woman, as the mate called her, had never spoken a word. She had taken her supper, and eaten it in silence, still remaining by the fire, huddled up in the blanket. On the mate speaking to her, she rose up, and I then perceived that she was much taller than I thought she could have been; but her Panama hat still concealed her face altogether. "Now then, my lad," said the mate, "shew the lady where she is to sleep, and then you can join us again if you like." "Will you come with me?" said I, walking away. The woman followed me up the path. When we arrived at the platform opposite the cabin, I recollected Nero, whom I had ordered to stay there till my return. "You won't be afraid of the seal," said I, "will you? he is very good-natured. Nero, come here." It was rather dark as Nero came shuffling up, and I went forward to coax him, for he snarled a little at seeing a stranger. "Have you no light at hand?" said my companion, speaking for the first time in a very soft, yet clear voice. "No, I have not, but I will get some tinder, and make a fire with one of the faggots, and then you will be able to see." "Do so, then, my good lad," replied she. I thought her voice very pleasing. I soon lighted the faggot and enabled her to see Nero (who was now quite quiet) and also the interior of the cabin. She examined the cabin and the bed-places, and then said, "Where do you sleep?" I replied by shewing her my bed-place. "And this," said I, pointing to the one opposite, "was Jackson's, and you can sleep in that. Nero sleeps with me. Here are plenty of seal skins to keep you warm if you are cold. Are your clothes wet?" "No, they are quite dry now," replied she; "if you will get me some seal skins, I will lie down on them, for I am very tired." I spread five or six skins one on the other, in Jackson's bed-place, and then I went out and threw another faggot on the fire, that we might have more light. "Do you want anything else?" said I. "Nothing, I thank you. Are you going to bed now?" "I was meaning to go down again to the men, but now I think of it, I do not like to leave you alone with Nero, as he might bite you. Are you afraid of him?" "No, I'm not much afraid, but still I have no wish to be bitten, and I am not used to sleep with such animals, as you are." "Well then, I'll tell you how we'll manage it. I will take some skins outside, and sleep there. Nero will not leave me, and then you won't be afraid. The weather is clearing up fast, and there's very little wind to what there was--besides, it will be daylight in three or four hours." "As you please," was the reply. Accordingly I took some seal skins out on the platform, and spreading them, I lay down upon them, wishing her good-night, and Nero soon joined me, and we were both fast asleep in a few minutes. Chapter XX Nero, who was an early riser, woke me up at day-break, or I should have slept much longer; for I had been tired out with the fatigue and excitement of the night before. As soon as I was up, I looked into the cabin, and found the woman was fast asleep; her straw hat was off, but she had lain down in her clothes. Her black hair was hanging about her shoulders. Having only seen Jackson with his bushy beard, I had been somewhat surprised when I first saw the men on their landing so comparatively clear of hair on their face; my astonishment at the clear white skin of a woman--and in this instance, it was peculiarly white and pallid--was very great. I also perceived how much more delicate her features were than those of the men; her teeth, too, were very white, and Jackson's were discoloured and bad; I longed to see her eyes, but they were closed. Any other difference I could not perceive, as she had drawn the blanket close up to her chin. "This is then a woman," said I to myself: "yes, and it's very like what I used to see in my dreams." I looked a little longer, and then, hearing Nero coming into the cabin behind me, and afraid that she would awake, I made a hasty retreat. I remained at this part of the cabin considering what I should do. I thought I would light a fire, and go down for a fish to broil on the embers for her breakfast, so I called Nero to come down with me. On arriving at the pool, I found all the seamen fast asleep under the tent they had made with the boat's sails; and they appeared to be much the same as Jackson used to be after he had got drunk the night before; I presumed therefore, that such was their state, and was not far wrong. Nero went into the pool and brought out a fish, as I ordered him, and I then walked to the boat to examine it. This took me half an hour, and I was sorry that none of the men were awake, that so I might ask any questions I wished. I examined the pitch-kettle, and the boat's sails, and the breakers. Breakers are small casks, holding about six to seven gallons of water, and are very handy for boats. I remained about an hour, and then went back to the cabin, carrying a faggot on my shoulder, Nero following with the fish in his mouth. We were met by the woman, who came out of the cabin; she no longer had the blanket round her, for it was a beautiful bright morning, and very warm. "Nero is bringing you your breakfast," said I, "so you ought to like him." "I dare say I shall, if we are to be companions in future," replied she. "Do you want anything?" said I. "Yes, a little water, if you can get me some." I filled the kid from the spring, put it down by her, and then took out the inside of the fish, and fed the birds, who were crowding round me. The woman washed her face and hands, braided up her hair, and then sat down on the rock. In the meantime, I had lighted my faggot, cleaned the fish, and waited till the wood was burnt to ashes before I put the fish on the fire. Having then nothing to do, I thought that reading would amuse the woman, and I went in for the Bible. "Shall I read to you?" said I. "Yes," replied she, with some astonishment in her looks. I read to her the history of Joseph and his brethren, which was my favourite story in the Bible. "Who taught you to read?" said she, as I shut the book, and put the fish on the embers. "Jackson," said I. "He was a good man, was he not?" replied she. I shook my head. "No, not very good," said I, at last. "If you knew all about him, you would say the same; but he taught me to read." "How long have you been on this island?" said she. "I was born on it, but my father and mother are both dead, and Jackson died three years ago--since that I have been quite alone, only Nero with me." She then asked me a great many more questions, and I gave her a short narration of what had passed, and what Jackson had told me; I also informed her how it was I procured food, and how we must soon leave the island, now that we were so many, or the food would not last out till the birds came again. By this time the fish was cooked, and I took it off the fire and put it into the kid, and we sat down to breakfast; in an hour or so, we had become very sociable. I must however now stop a little to describe her. What the men had told me was quite true. She had lost her husband, and was intending to proceed to England. Her name was Reichardt, for her husband was a German, or of German family. She was, as I have since ascertained, about thirty-seven years old, and very tall and elegant; she must have been very handsome when she was younger, but she had suffered much hardship in following her husband as she had done, through all the vicissitudes of his travels. Her face was oval; eyes black and large; and her hair black as the raven's wing; her features were small and regular; her teeth white and good; but her complexion was very pallid, and not a vestige of colour on her cheeks. As I have since thought, it was more like a marble statue than anything I can compare her to. There was a degree of severity in her countenance when she did not smile, and it was seldom that she did. I certainly looked upon her with more awe than regard, for some time after I became acquainted with her; and yet her voice was soft and pleasant, and her manners very amiable; but it must be remembered I had never before seen a woman. After breakfast was over, I proposed going down to where the seamen lay, to see if they were awake, but I told her I thought that they would not be. "I will go with you, as I left a basket with some things of mine in the boat, and it will be as well to bring them up at once." We therefore set off together, I having ordered Nero to stay in the cabin. On our arrival at the pool we found the men still fast asleep; and by her directions I went into the water to the boat, and brought out a basket and a small bundle which she pointed out. "Shall I wake them?" said I. "No, no," replied she; "so long as they sleep, they will be doing no harm. But," said she, "we may as well take some potatoes up with us; fill both these handkerchiefs," continued she, taking two out of the bundle. I did so, and she took one and I the other, and we returned to the cabin. "Are these all the birds that you have for food?" said she, looking at the pile in the cabin. "Yes," replied I. "But what are we to do with the potatoes?" "We can roast them by the fire if we like," said she; "but at present we had better take them into the cabin. Did you plant all these flowers and creepers which grow over the cabin?" "Yes," replied I. "I was alone and had nothing to do, so I thought I would make a garden." "They are very pretty. Now that I am back, you can go down to the men if you please, and tell them, when they wake up, that I wish to have the smallest of the boat's sails, to make a screen of. Tell the mate, he is the most civil." "I will," said I. "Is there anything else?" "Yes, bring up a few more potatoes; they will let you take them if you say that I told you." "Shall I take Nero with me?" "Yes, I do not want his company, for I am a little afraid of him." I called Nero, who came after me, and went down to the pool, when I found that the men had all woke up, and were very busy, some lighting a fire, some washing potatoes, and some trying to catch the fish in the pool. "Oh, here he is. Come, boy, what have you got for our breakfast? We've been trying to catch some of these fish, but they're as quick as eels." "Nero will soon catch you what you want," replied I. "Here, Nero, in." Nero plunged in, and soon brought out a fish, and I then sent him in for another. "Thanks, lad," said the mate; "that will be enough for our breakfast. That seal of yours is a handy fellow, and well trained." While the other men were getting breakfast, one of them went up to Nero, I believe with the intention of making friends with him, but Nero rejected his advances, and showed his sharp teeth, snapping at him several times. The man became angry, and caught up a piece of rock to throw at the seal. He aimed at the animal's nose, and narrowly missed hitting it. Had he done so, he would probably have killed it. This made me very angry, and I told the man not to do so again; upon this, he caught up another, and was about to throw it, when I seized him by the collar with my left hand, and with my right drawing my American knife, I threatened to stab him with it, if he attacked the beast. The man started back, and in so doing, fell over a piece of rock, on his back. This quarrel brought the mate to us, along with two or three of the men. My knife was still lifted up, when the mate said-- "Come, my hearty, no knives, we don't allow them. That's not English. Put it up, no one shall hurt the beast, I promise you. Bob, you fool, why couldn't you leave the animal alone? You forget you are among savages, here." At this, the other men burst out into a laugh. "Yes," observed one; "I can swear, when I get back, that the natives of this island are savages, who eat raw flesh, have seals for playmates, and don't wear clothes enough for common decency." This made them laugh more, and the man who had attacked Nero, and who had got upon his legs again, joined with the others; so all was again good-humour. The men sat down to their breakfast, while I examined the boat again, and afterwards asked many questions, with which they were much amused, every now and then observing, "Well, he is a savage!" After they had breakfasted, I made Nero catch another fish and sent him up to the cabin with it, as I was afraid that the man might do him an injury, and then told the mate that the woman had desired me to bring up some potatoes. "Take them," said he; "but you have nothing to carry them up with. Here, fill the pail, and I will go to the cabin with you." "She told me that I was to ask you for a small boat's sail, to hang up as a screen." "Well, she shall have the boat's mizen. We don't want it. I'll carry it up." The mate threw the sail and yard over his shoulder, and followed me up to the cabin. On our arrival, we found the missionary's wife sitting on the platform, Nero lying not far from her, with the fish beside him. The mate took off his hat, and saluted my new companion, saying, "That he hoped she was comfortable last night." "Yes," replied she, "as much so as I could expect; but I turned this good lad out of his cabin, which I do not wish to do again, and therefore I requested the sail for a screen. Now, John Gough, what do you intend to do?" continued she. The mate replied, "I came up here to see what quantity of provisions the lad might have. By his account, it will not last more than a month, and it will take some time before we can reach where we are likely to fall in with any vessel. Stay here we cannot, for we shall only eat the provision and lose time, therefore, the sooner we are off the better." "If you take all the provision, of course you will take the lad with you?" replied she. "Of course we will." "And my chest, and my seal?" inquired I. "Yes, your chest, certainly, but as for your seal, I do not know what to say to that--he will be starved in the boat, and if you give him his liberty, he will do well enough." "What you say is very true," replied the woman. "I am afraid, boy, that you will have to part with your friend. It will be better for both of you." I made no reply, for it cut me to the heart to think of parting with Nero; but still I had sense enough to perceive that what they said was right. The mate then went into the cabin, and examined the heap of dried birds which I had collected, and having made his calculation, said that there were sufficient for three weeks, but not more. "And when do you think of leaving this island?" inquired the woman. "The day after to-morrow, if I can persuade the men, madam," replied he; "but you know they are not very easy to manage, and very thoughtless, especially now that they have so unexpectedly fallen in with liquor." "That I admit," replied she; "but as they will probably take the liquor in the boat, that will not make so great a difference." "I shall go down and speak to them now they're all sober," replied the mate, "and will let you know in the evening, or to-morrow morning, perhaps, will be better." The mate then saluted her by touching his hat, and left us. Chapter XXI There was one thing which had made a great impression on me in the conversation with the men in the morning. They called me a Savage, and said that I had not sufficient clothes on; and as I observed that they were all dressed in jackets and trousers, which covered them from head to foot, I took it for granted that my shirt, which was all that I wore, was not a sufficient clothing. This had never occurred to me before, nor can the reader be surprised at it. I had been like our first parents in Eden--naked but not ashamed--but now that I had suddenly come in contact with my fellow-men, I felt as if something were amiss. The consequence was, that I went to the chest and got out a pair of white trousers, and put them on. I thought them very uncomfortable and very unnecessary articles, but others wore them, and I felt that I must do so also. They were rather long for me, but I rolled up the bottoms of the legs, as I observed that the seamen did, and then came out on the platform, where the missionary's wife was still seated, looking out upon the waves as they lashed the rocks. She immediately observed the addition that I had made to my dress, and said, "That is a great improvement. Now you look like other people. What is your name? you have not told me." When I had answered the question, I said to her-- "I have brought up more of the potatoes, as you call them; what am I to do with them?" "First tell me, have you any spot that you know about the island where there is mould--that is, earth, like you have in your garden--where we can plant them?" "Yes," replied I, "there is some up there," and I pointed to one-third up the ravine. "I brought all this earth from there, and there is plenty of it; but what is the good of planting them?" "Because," said she, "one of the potatoes planted will, in a very short time, grow, and then it will produce perhaps thirty or forty potatoes at its roots as large as these; they are excellent things for food, and where there is nothing else to be had, may be the means of preserving life." "Well, that may be," replied I, "and if we were going to remain on the island, it would be well to plant them, but as we are going away the day after to-morrow, what's the use of it? I know that they are very nice, for I had some for supper last night." "But are we only to think of ourselves in this world, and not of others?" replied she. "Suppose, two or three years hence, another boat were to be cast away on this island, and not find, as we have, you here, with provisions ready for them, they would starve miserably; whereas, if we plant these potatoes, they may find plenty of food and be saved. Only think how glad your father and mother would have been to have found potatoes on the island when they were thrown on it. We must not live only for ourselves, but we must think and try to do good to others--that is the duty of a Christian." "I think you are very right," replied I, "and a very kind person too. If you wish it I will go and plant the potatoes this day. How am I to plant them?" "They have a shovel in the boat," said she, "for I saw them throwing the water out with it. Go down and get it, and then I will go with you and show you." I went down and the mate gave me the shovel, which I carried up to her. I found her cutting the potatoes into pieces, and she showed me how she cut them, leaving an eye in each piece, and explained the reason for it. I was soon very busy cutting away alongside of her, and before long the pail of potatoes was all ready to be planted. We then walked to the ravine, and she showed me how to use the shovel, and I made the holes. Before noon we had planted all that we had cut, but we had still the two handkerchiefs full that we had at first brought up with us. We returned to the cabin, and I prepared the fish for dinner. After it was on the embers, she wished to have the screen put up beside her bed-place. "Go down to the mate," said she, "and ask him for the hammer and three or four nails. I know they have them in the boat." "I may as well take them down some birds for their dinner," replied I, "for they will want them." "Yes, do so; and then come back to me as soon as you can." The mate gave me the hammer, an article I had never seen before, and five or six nails, with which I returned to the cabin, and nailed up the sail as a screen. "Now you will be able to sleep in your own bed-place to-night," said she. I made no reply, but I could not imagine why I could not have done so the night before, for I had only gone out of the cabin that she might not be frightened by Nero being so close to her. After we had eaten our dinner, she said to me-- "How could you contrive to live on this island, if you had no dried birds?" "How?" replied I; "why, very badly. I might catch fish; but there are times in the year when you can catch no fish, they won't take bait, neither will they when the weather is rough. Besides, I have only two lines, and I might lose them both--then what would become of me? I should starve." "Well, then, you see under all circumstances, it was just as well to plant the potatoes, for other people may come here and be in your position." "Yes, that is true, but we shall not be here long now, and you don't know how glad I am to go. I want to see all the things that I have read about in my books. I want to go to England and look for somebody; but you don't know all that I know; some day I will tell you all--everything. I am so tired of living here by myself--nothing to say--no one to talk to--no one to care for, except Nero, and he can't speak. I can't bear the idea of parting with him though." "Would you rather stay on the island with Nero, than go away without him?" "No," replied I; "go I must, but still I do not like to part with him. He is the only friend that I ever had, that I can remember." "When you have lived longer, and mixed more with the world, my poor boy, you will then find how many sacrifices you will be obliged to make, much more serious than parting with an animal that you are attached to. I suppose you expect to be very happy if ever you get back to England?" "Of course I do; why should I not be?" replied I; "I shall be always happy." The Missionary's wife shook her head. "I fear not. Indeed, I think if you live long enough, you will acknowledge that the happiest of your days were passed on this barren rock." "Jackson said otherwise," replied I. "He was always grieving at being on the island, and not able to get back to England, and he told me so many stories about England, and what is done there, and what a beautiful place it is, that I'm sure I shall like it better than being here, even if I had somebody with me." "Well, you are in the hands of God, and you must put your trust in him. He will do with you as he thinks best for you--that you know, as you read your Bible." "No, I didn't know that," replied I. "God lives beyond the stars, a long way off." "Is that all you have gained by reading your Bible?" inquired she, looking me in the face. "No, not all," replied I; "but I do not understand a great deal that I read, I want some one to tell me. I am so glad you came with the men in the boat, for I never saw a woman before. I used to see somebody in my dreams, and now I know it was a woman. It was my mother, but I have not seen her for a long while now, and I have nobody but Nero." "My poor boy, you have a father in heaven." "Yes," replied I; "I know he is in heaven, and so is my mother, for Jackson said that they were both very good." "I mean your Heavenly Father, God. Do you not say in the Lord's Prayer, 'Our Father which art in heaven.' You must love him." I was about to reply, when John Gough, the mate, came up, and told my companion that he had been speaking to the men, and they had agreed that the day after the next they would, if the weather permitted, leave the island; that they had examined the boat, and found it required very little repair, and that all would be ready the next day. "I hope that they will not overload the boat," said she. "I fear that they will, but I must do all I can to prevent it. The cask of rum was rather an unfortunate discovery, and we had been better without it. Leave it they will not, so we must put out of the boat all that we can possibly do without, for we shall be nine of us, and that will be plenty of weight with the addition of the cask." "You promised to take my chest, you remember," said I. "Yes, I will do so if I possibly can; but recollect, I may not be able to keep my promise--for now that they have the liquor, the men do not obey me as they did before, ma'am," said the mate. "Perhaps he had better take the best of his clothes in a bundle, in case they should refuse to take in the chest; and I must say that, loaded as the boat will be, they will be much to blame if they do not refuse, for the boat is but small for stowage, and there's all the provisions to put in her, which will take up a deal of room." "That is very true," replied the woman. "It will be better to leave the chest here, for I do not think that the boat will hold it. You must not mind your chest, my good boy; it is of no great value." "They take my rum and all my birds, and they ought to take both me and my chest." "Not if it takes up too much room," replied the woman. "You cannot expect it. The wishes of one person must give way to the wishes of many." "Why they would have starved if it had not been for me," replied I, angrily. "That's very true, boy," replied the mate; "but you have to learn yet, that might is right; and recollect that what you did this morning has not made you any great favourite with them." "What was that?" inquired my companion. "Only that he nearly drove his knife through one of the men, that's all," replied the mate; "English sailors ar'n't fond of knives." He then touched his hat, and went down again to the pool, desiring me to follow him with a kid for our share of the supper. I did so, and on my return she asked me why I had drawn my knife upon the seaman, and I narrated how it occurred. She pointed out to me the impropriety of what I had done, asking me whether the Bible did not tell us we were to forgive injuries. "Yes," replied I; "but is it not injuries to ourselves? I did forgive Jackson; but this was to prevent his hurting another." "Another! why you talk of Nero as if the animal was a rational being, and his life of as much consequence as that of a fellow-creature. I do not mean to say but that the man was very wrong, and that you must have felt angry if an animal you were so fond of had been killed; but there is a great difference between the life of an animal and that of a fellow-creature. The animal dies, and there is an end of it; but a man has an immortal soul, which never perishes, and nothing can excuse your taking the life of a man, except in self-defence. Does not the commandment say, 'Thou shalt not kill?'" She then talked to me a long while upon the subject, and fully made me understand that I had been very wrong, and I confessed that I had been so. Chapter XXII I now resolved to speak to her relative to the belt which contained the diamonds; and I was first obliged to narrate to her in a few words what Jackson had told me. She heard me with great interest, now and then asking a question. When I had told her all, I said-- "Now, as they talk of not taking my chest, what shall I do? Shall I wear the belt myself, or shall I put it in the bundle? or will you wear it for me, as my mother would have done, if she had been alive?" She did not reply for some time, at last she said, as if talking to herself, and not to me-- "How unsearchable are thy ways, O God!" Indeed, although I did not feel it at the time, I have afterwards thought, and she told me herself, how great her surprise was at finding in the unshorn little Savage, thus living alone upon a desolate rock, a lad of good birth, and although he did not know it, with a fortune in his charge, which would, in all probability, be ultimately his own. This is certain, that the interest she felt towards me increased every hour, as by degrees I disclosed my history. "Well," replied she, "if you will trust me, I will take charge of your belt. To-morrow we will select out of the chest what will be best to take with you, and then we will arrange as you wish." After about an hour's more conversation, she went into the cabin, and retired behind the screen which had been fixed up, telling me that she did not mind Nero, and that I might go to bed when I pleased. As I was not much inclined to go down to the seamen, I followed her advice and went to bed; but I could not sleep for a long time from the noise which the men made, who were carousing at the bathing-pool. The idea of parting with Nero also lay heavy upon my heart, though the woman had almost satisfied me that as soon as I was gone, the animal would resume its natural habits, and care nothing for me. I was up the next morning early, and went down with Nero to obtain the fish which we required. I left some on the rocks for the seamen's breakfast (for they were all sound asleep), and then returned to the cabin, and prepared for our own. Mrs Reichardt, as I shall now call her, soon came out to me, and when breakfast was over, proposed that we should plant the remainder of the potatoes before we packed up the things in the chest. As soon as they were all cut, we set off to the ravine, and had finished our task before noon, at which time there were but few of the seamen stirring, they had remained up so long the night before, drinking. The mate was one of those who were on their legs, and he asked me if I thought we should have smooth water to launch the boat on the following day. I replied in the affirmative, and went with Mrs Reichardt to the cabin, and putting down the shovel, I hauled my chest out on the platform to select what articles I should take. While we were thus employed, and talking at times, the men came up for the dried birds to take down ready for putting them in the boat on the following day, and in two trips they had cleared out the whole of them. "Have you used all the potatoes you brought up?" said one of the men; "for we shall be short of provisions." Mrs Reichardt replied that we had none left. "Well then," said the man, "the mate says you had better bring down that brute of yours to catch the rest of the fish in the pond, that we may cook them before we start, as they will make two days' meals at least." "Very well," replied I; "I will come down directly." I did so, and Nero, in a quarter of an hour, had landed all the fish, and I then returned with him to the cabin. Mrs R. had selected the best of the clothes, and made them up in a tight bundle, which she sewed up with strong thread. My books she had left out, as well as the spy-glass, and the tools I had, as they might be useful. I asked her whether I should carry them down to the bathing-pool, but she replied that on the morning when we embarked would be quite time enough. I then went to the hole under Jackson's bed-place, and brought out the belt and the few articles that were with it. Mrs R., after having examined them, said that she would take care of them all; the watch and other trinkets she put in her basket, the belt she took to the bed-place, and secreted it. She appeared very silent and thoughtful, and on my asking her whether I should not take down the shovel, and the pail, and hammer, she replied, "No, leave all till we are ready to go to the boat. It will be time enough." Shortly afterwards, the mate brought us up some of the fish which they had cooked for supper, and when we had eaten it we went to bed. "This is the last night we shall sleep together, Nero," said I, kissing my favourite, and the thought brought tears into my eyes. "But it can't be helped." I was however soon fast asleep with my arm round the animal. When I went out the next morning, I found that the weather was beautifully fine, the water smooth, and only rippled by a light breeze. As Mrs R. had not yet made her appearance, I went down to the bathing-pool, where I found all the men up and in full activity. The boat had been emptied out, the oars, masts, and sails, were on the rocks and the men were turning the bows to the seaward in readiness for launching her over the ledge of rocks. The dried birds lay in a heap by the side of the cask of rum, and the fish which had been baked were in a large kid. The six breakers were also piled up together, and the mate and some of the men were disputing as to how many of them should be filled with water. The mate wanted them all filled; the men said that three would be sufficient, as the boat would be so loaded. At last the mate gained his point, and the men each took a breaker, and went up to the cabin for the water. I went with them to fill the breakers, and also to see that they did no mischief, for they appeared very unruly and out of temper; and I was afraid that they would hurt Nero, who was at the cabin, if I was not there to prevent them; but with the exception of examining the cabin, and forcing themselves in upon Mrs Reichardt, they did nothing. When the breakers were full, which took at least half an hour, they did indeed try to catch the birds, and would have wrung their necks, but the males flew away, and the females I put into the bed-place that was screened off in the cabin, and near which Mrs Reichardt was sitting. They all appeared to have a great awe and respect for this woman, and a look from her was more effectual than were any words of the mate. "We don't want you," said one of the men, as they went down to the bathing-pool with the breakers on their shoulders. "Why don't you keep up with the lady? You're quite a lady's man, now you've white trousers on." The others who followed him laughed at this latter remark. "I'm of no use up there, at present," said I; "and I may be down below." The men set down the breakers on the rocks by the pool, and then, under the directions of the mate, prepared to launch the boat over the ledge. The masts of the boat were placed athwartships, under her keel, for her to run upon, and being now quite empty, she was very light. She was what they call a whale-boat, fitted for the whale fishery, pointed at both ends, and steered by an oar; she was not very large, but held seven people comfortably, and she was remarkably well fitted with sails and masts, having two lugs and a mizen. As soon as they were all ready, the men went to the side of the boat, and in a minute she was launched into the sea without injury. The mate said to me, as they brought her broadside to the ledge-- "Now, my lad, we don't want you any more; you may go up to the cabin till we are ready, and then we will send for you and the lady." "Oh! but I can be of use here," replied I; "and I am of none up there." The mate did not reply, and the men then went to the rum cask, and rolled it towards the boat; and when they had it on the ledge, they parbuckled it, as they term it, into the boat with a whale-line that they happened to have, and which was of great length. After the cask of rum was got in amidships, (and it took up a great deal of space, reaching from one gunnel to the other, and standing high above the thwarts) they went for the breakers of water, which they put in, three before and three behind the cask, upon the floor of the boat. "She will be too heavy," said one of the men, "with so much water." "We can easily get rid of it," replied the mate. "If you had said she would be too heavy with so much liquor on board, you had better explained the matter; however, you must have your own ways, I suppose." The next articles that they brought to stow away were the provisions. The kid of fish was put amidships on the breakers, and the dried birds, which they carried down in their arms, were packed up neatly in the stern-sheets. They were soon up to the gunnel, and the mate said, "You had better stow away forward now--there will be little room for the lady as it is." "No, no, stow them all aft," replied one of the men, in a surly tone; "the lady must sit where she can. She's no better than we." "Shall this go in?" said I, pointing to the coil of whale-line, and addressing the mate. "No, no; we must leave that," replied one of the men in the boat; "we shall be wedged enough as it is; and I say, Jim, throw that old saw and the bag of nails out of the boat--we can have no use for them." The masts were then stepped, and the rigging set up to the gunnel of the boat, the yards and sails handed in, and hooked on the halyards ready for hoisting. In fact the boat was now all ready for starting; they had only the iron kettle and two or three other articles to put in. "Shall we have the mizen?" inquired one of the men, pointing to the mast, which lay on the rocks. "No, she steers quite as well without it," replied the mate. "We'll leave it. And now, lads, hand the oars in." They were brought to the boat, but owing to the puncheon of rum in the centre, they could not lie flat, and after a good deal of arguing and disputing, four oars and a boat-hook were lashed to the gunnel outside, and the rest were left on the rocks. At this time there was some consultation between the mate and some of the men--the mate being evidently opposed by the others. I could not hear what it was about, but the mate appeared very angry and very much annoyed. At last he dashed his hat down on the rocks in a great passion, saying, "No good will come of it. Mark my words. No good ever did or ever will. Be it so, you are too many for me; but I tell you again, no good will come of it." The mate then sat down on the rocks by himself, and put his head down on his knees, covering it with his hands. The man with whom he had been disputing went to the others in the boat, and spoke to them in a low tone, looking round at me, to ascertain if I was within hearing. After a minute or two they all separated, and then one of them said to me-- "Now, my lad, we're all ready. Go up to the cabin and bring down your bundle and her basket, and tell the lady we are waiting for her." "There's the shovel," said I, "and the boat's sail--must I bring them down?" "Oh yes, bring them down, and also two or three sealskins for the lady to sit upon." Off I went on my errand, for I was delighted with the idea of leaving the island, and my patience had been almost exhausted at the time they had taken in the stowage of the boat. As I hastened up the path, I heard loud contention, and the mate's voice speaking very angrily, and I stopped for a short time to listen, but the noise ceased, and I went on again. I found Nero on the platform, and I stopped a minute to caress him. "Good bye, my poor Nero, we shall never see one another again," said I. "You must go back to the sea, and catch fish for yourself;" and the tears started in my eyes as I gave the animal a farewell kiss. I then went into the cabin, where I found Mrs Reichardt sitting very quietly. "They are all ready," said I, "and have sent me up for you but I am to bring down the boat's sail and some seal skins for you to sit upon. I can carry both if you can carry my bundle. Have you put the belt on?" "Yes," replied she, "I am quite ready. I will carry the bundle, and the books and spy-glass, as well as my basket; but we must pack them close," added she, "and roll the sail up round the yard, or you will not be able to carry it." We took the sail down, and got it ready for carrying, and I rolled up the two best seal skins, and tied them with a piece of fishing line, and then we were all ready. I shouldered my burden, and Mrs Reichardt took the other articles, as proposed, and we left the cabin to go down the path to the bathing-pool. "Good bye, Nero--good bye, birds--good bye, cabin--and good bye, garden," said I, as I went along the platform; and having so done, and ordered Nero back with a tremulous voice, I turned my head in the direction of the bathing-pool. I stared and then screamed, dropping my burden, as I lifted up my hands in amazement-- "Look!" cried I to my companion. "Look!" repeated I, breathless. She did look, and saw as I did--the boat under all sail, half a mile from the pool, staggering under a fresh breeze, which carried her away at the rate of seven or eight miles an hour. They had left us--they had deserted us. I cried out, like a madman, "Stop! stop! stop!" and then, seeing how useless it was, I dashed myself on the rock, and for a minute or two was insensible. "Oh!" groaned I, at last, as I came to my senses. "Frank Henniker," said a sweet firm voice. I opened my eyes, and saw Mrs Reichardt standing by me. "It is the will of Heaven, and you must submit to it patiently," continued she. "But so cruel, so treacherous!" replied I, looking at the fast-receding boat. "I grant, most cruel, and most treacherous, but we must leave them to the judgment of God. What can they expect from him in the way of mercy when they have shewn none? I tell you candidly, that I think we are better in our present forlorn state upon this rock, than if in that boat. They have taken with them the seeds of discord, of recklessness, and intemperance, in an attempt which requires the greatest prudence, calmness, and unanimity, and I fear there is little chance of their even being rescued from their dangerous position. It is my opinion, and I thought so when I first knew they had found the cask, that liquor would prove their ruin, and I say again, that boat will never arrive at its destination, and they will all perish miserably. It has pleased God that they should leave us here, and depend upon it, it has been so decided for the best." "But," replied I, looking again at the boat, "I was tired of being here--I was so anxious to get off--and now to be left! And they have taken all our provisions, everything, even the fish in the pool. We shall starve." "I hope not," replied she, "and I think not; but we must exert ourselves, and trust to Heaven." But I could not heed her--my heart was bursting. I sobbed, as I sat with my hands covering up my face. "All gone!" cried I. "No one left but you and I." "Yes," replied she, "one more." "Who?" cried I, looking up. "God!--who is with us always." Chapter XXIII I heard what she said, but my head was too confused to weigh the words. I remained silent, where I was. A few seconds elapsed, and she spoke again: "Frank Henniker, rise, and listen to me." "We shall starve," muttered I. As I said this, one of the male birds returned from the sea with a large fish, of which Mrs Reichardt took possession, as she had seen me do, and the gannet flew away again to obtain more. Immediately afterwards, the other two birds returned with fish, which were in a like way secured by my companion. "See how unjust and ungrateful you are," observed she. "Here are the birds feeding us, as the ravens did Elijah in the wilderness, at the very time that you are doubting the goodness and mercy of God. There is a meal for us provided already." "My head! my head!" exclaimed I, "it is bursting, and there is a heavy weight rolling in it--I cannot see anything." And such was the fact: the excitement had brought on a determination of blood to the head, and my senses were rapidly departing. Mrs Reichardt knelt by my side, and perceiving that what I had said was the case, went into the cabin and brought out a cloth, which she wetted with water from the spring, and laid across my forehead and temples. I remained motionless and nearly senseless for half an hour, during which she continued to apply fresh cold water to the cloth, and by degrees I recovered from my stupor. In the meantime, the weather being so fine and the water smooth, the gannets continued to return with the fish they caught, almost all of which were taken from them by my companion, until she had collected more than a dozen fish, from half a pound to a pound weight, which she put away, so that the birds and seal might not devour them. I was still in a half dozing state, when the breathing and cold nose of Nero touched my cheek, and the murmurings of my favourite roused me up, and I opened my eyes. "I am better now," said I to Mrs Reichardt. "How kind you have been!" "Yes, you are better, but still, you must remain quiet. Do you think that you could walk to your bed-place?" "I'll try," replied I, and with her assistance I rose up; but, when I afterwards gained my feet, I should have fallen if she had not supported me; but, assisted by her, I gained my bed and sank down again. She raised my head higher, and then applied the linen cloth and cold water as before. "Try now," said she, "if you cannot go to sleep. When you awake again, I will have some dinner ready for you." I thanked her and shut my eyes. Nero crawled to my bed-place, and with my hand upon his head, I fell asleep, and remained so till near sunset, when I awoke with very little pain in my head, and much refreshed. I found Mrs Reichardt by my side. "You are better now," said she. "Can you eat any dinner? I must make friends with Nero, for he has been disputing my right to come near your bedside, and his teeth are rather formidable. However, I gave him the inside of the fish when I cleaned them, and we are better friends already. There is your dinner." Mrs Reichardt placed before me some of the fish, broiled on the embers, and I ate very heartily. "It is very kind of you," said I, "to be working for me, when I ought to be working for you--but you must not do it again." "Only my share of the work when you are well," replied she; "but my share I always shall do. I cannot be idle, and I am strong enough to do a great deal; but we will talk about that to-morrow morning. You will be quite well by that time, I hope." "Oh! I feel well now," replied I, "only I am very weak." "You must put your trust in God, my poor boy. Do you ever pray to him?" "Yes, I try a little sometimes--but I don't know how. Jackson never taught me that." "Then I will. Shall I pray now for both of us?" "Will God hear you? What was it that you said just before I forgot everything this morning?" "I told you that there was another here besides ourselves, a good and gracious God, who is always with us and always ready to come to our assistance if we call upon him." "You told me God lived beyond the stars." "My poor boy, as if he were a God who was afar off and did not attend to our prayers! Such is not the case. He is with us always in spirit, listening to all our prayers, and reading every secret thought of our hearts." I was silent for some time, thinking upon what she had told me; at last I said-- "Then pray to him." Mrs Reichardt knelt down and prayed in a clear and fervent voice, without hesitation or stop. She prayed for protection and support in our desolate condition, that we might be supplied with all things needful for our sustenance, and have a happy deliverance from our present position. She prayed that we might be contented and resigned until it should please him to rescue us--that we might put our whole trust and confidence in him, and submit without murmuring to whatever might be his will. She prayed for health and strength, for an increase of faith and gratitude towards him for all his mercies. She thanked him for our having been preserved by being left on the desolate rock, instead of having left it in the boat with the seamen. (This surprised me.) And then she prayed for me, entreating that she might be the humble instrument of leading me to my Heavenly Father, and that he would be pleased to pour down upon me his Holy Spirit, so that I might, by faith in Christ, be accepted, and become a child of God and an inheritor of eternal bliss. There was something so novel to me and so beautiful in her fervency of prayer, that the tears came into my eyes, and about a minute after she had finished, I said-- "I now recollect, at least, I think I do--for the memory of it is very confused-that my mother used to kneel down by me and pray just as you have done. Oh, how I wish I had a mother!" "My child," replied she, "promise me that you will be a good and obedient son, and I will be a mother to you." "Will you? Oh! how kind of you. Yes, I will be all you wish; I will work for you day and night if it is necessary. I will do everything, if you will but be my mother." "I will do my duty to you as a mother most strictly," replied she; "so that is agreed upon. Now, you had better go to sleep, if you can." "But I must first ask you a question. Why did you thank God for the seamen having left us here, instead of taking us with them?" "Because the boat was overloaded as it was; because the men, having liquor, would become careless and desperate, and submit to no control; and therefore I think there is little or no chance of their ever arriving anywhere safe, but that they will perish miserably in some way or another. This, I consider, is the probability, unless the Almighty in his mercy should be pleased to come to their assistance, and allow them to fall in with some vessel soon after their departure." "Do you think, then, that God prevented our going with them on purpose that we might not share their fate?" "I do! God regulates everything. Had it been better for us that we should have gone, he would have permitted it; but he willed it otherwise, and we must bow to his will with a full faith, that he orders everything for the best." "And you say that God will give us all that we ask for in our prayers?" "Yes, if we pray fervently and in faith, and ask it in the name of Jesus Christ; that is, he will grant all we pray for, that is good for us, but not what is not good for us; or when we ask anything, we do not know that we are asking what is proper or not--but he does. We may ask what would be hurtful to us, and then, in his love for us, he denies it. For instance, suppose you had been accustomed to pray, you must have prayed God that he would permit you to leave this island in the boat, as you are so anxious to go away; but supposing that boat is lost, as I imagine it will be, surely it would have been a kindness in God, who knew that it would be lost, not to grant your prayer. Is it not so?" "Yes, I see now, thank you; now I will go to sleep--good-night." Chapter XXIV I awoke the next morning quite recovered from my illness of the day before, and was out of the cabin before Mrs Reichardt, who still remained behind the screen which she had put up after I had gone to sleep. It was a beautiful morning, the water was smooth, and merely rippled with a light breeze, and the sun shone bright. I felt well and happy. I lighted a fire to broil the fish for breakfast, as there was a sufficiency left, and then got my fishing-lines ready to catch some larger fish to reinhabit my pond at the bathing pool. Mrs Reichardt came out of the cabin and found me playing with Nero. "Good morning, dear mother," said I, for I felt most kindly towards her. "Good morning, my dear boy," replied she. "Are you quite well?" "Quite well; and I have got my lines all ready, for I have been thinking that until the birds come, we must live on fish altogether, and we can only take them in fine weather like this; so we must not lose such a day." "Certainly not. As soon as we have breakfasted, we will go down and fish. I can fish very well, I am used to it. We must both work now; but first go for your Bible, that we may read a little." I did so, and after she had read a chapter she prayed, and I knelt by her side; then we breakfasted, and as soon as we had breakfasted, we set off to the bathing-pool. "Do you know if they left anything behind them, Frank?" "Yes," replied I, "they left some oars, I believe, and a long line and we have the shovel, and the hammer, and the boat's small sail, up at the cabin." "Well, we shall see very soon," replied she, as we went down the path. When we arrived at the bathing-pool, the first thing that met my eyes made me leap with joy. "Oh! mother! mother! they've left the iron pot; I did so long for it; and as I lay awake this morning, I thought that if I prayed for anything, it would be for the iron pot. I was tired of dried birds, and they ate so different when they were boiled up in the pot with potatoes." "I am equally glad, Frank, for I do not like victuals uncooked; but now let us first see what else they have thrown out of the boat." "Why they have put on shore three of the little casks of water," said I; "they took them all on board." "They have so, I suppose, because the boat was too heavy, and they would not part with the liquor. Foolish men, they will now not have more than six days' water, and will suffer dreadfully." We then looked round the rocks and found that they had left the iron kettle, three breakers, five oars, and a harpoon and staffs; a gang-board, a whale line of 200 fathoms, an old saw, a bag of broad-headed nails, and two large pieces of sheet-iron. "That saw may be very useful to us," said Mrs Reichardt, "especially as you have files in your chest. Indeed, if we want them, we may convert one-half of the saw into knives." "Into knives! How?" "I will shew you; and these pieces of sheet-iron I could use again. You see the sheet-iron was put on to repair any hole which might be made in the boat, and they have thrown it out, as well as the hammer and nails. I wonder at John Gough permitting it." "I heard them quarrelling with him as I came out yesterday to fetch you down; they would not mind what he said." "No, or we should not have been left here," replied she; "John Gough was too good a man to have allowed it, if he could have prevented it. That sheet-iron will be very useful. Do you know what for? to broil fish on, or anything else. We must turn up the corners with the hammer. But now we must lose no more time, but fish all day long, and not think of eating till supper time." Accordingly we threw out our lines, and the fish taking the bait freely, we soon hauled in more than a dozen large fish, which I put into the bathing-pool. "What use can we make of that long line which they have left?" "A good many; but the best use we can make of it, is to turn it into fishing-lines, when we require new ones." "But how can we do that, it is so thick and heavy?" "Yes, but I will show you how to unlay it, and then make it up again. Recollect, Frank, that I have been the wife of a Missionary, and have followed my husband wherever he went; sometimes we have been well off, sometimes as badly off as you and I are now--for a Missionary has to go through great dangers, and great hardships, as you would acknowledge if you ever heard my life, or rather that of my husband." "Won't you tell it to me?" "Yes, perhaps I will, some day or another; but what I wish to point out to you now is, that being his wife, and sharing his danger and privation, I have been often obliged to work hard and to obtain my living as I could. In England, women do little except in the house, but a Missionary's wife is obliged to work with the men, and as a man very often, and therefore learns to do many things of which women in general are ignorant. You understand now?" "Oh yes. I have thought already that you appear to know more than Jackson did." "I should think not; but Jackson was not fond of work I expect, and I am. And now, Frank, you little thought that when you so tardily went to work the other day to plant potatoes for the benefit of any one that might hereafter come to the island, that you were planting for yourself, and would reap the benefit of your own kind act; for if you had not assisted, of course I could not have done it by myself: so true it is, that even in this world you are very often rewarded for a good action." "But are not you always?" "No, my child, you must not expect that; but if not rewarded in this world, you will be rewarded in the next." "I don't understand that." "I suppose that you hardly can, but I will explain all that to you, if God spare my life; but it must be at a more seasonable time." We continued fishing till late in the afternoon, by which time we had taken twenty-eight large fish, about seven to nine pounds' weight; Mrs Reichardt then proposed that we should leave off, as we had already provision for a fortnight. I hauled out one more fish, which she took with her to cook for our supper, and having coiled up my lines, I then commenced, as she had told me to do, carrying up the articles left by the boat's crew at the bathing-pool. The first thing I seized upon was the coveted iron kettle; I was quite overjoyed at the possession of this article, and I had good reason to be. In my other hand I carried the saw and the bag of nails. As soon as I had deposited them at the cabin, I went down again, and before supper was ready I had brought up everything except the three breakers of water, which I left where they were, as we did not want them for present use, whatever we might hereafter. We were both rather tired, and were glad to go to bed after we had taken our supper. Chapter XXV When we met the following morning, my mother, as I shall in future call her, said to me, "This will be a busy day, Frank, for we have a great many arrangements to make in the cabin, so that we may be comfortable. In future the cabin must be kept much more clean and tidy than it is--but that is my business more than yours. Let us get our breakfasts, and then we will begin." "I don't know what you want me to do," replied I; "but I will do it if I can, as soon as you tell me." "My dear boy, a woman requires a portion of the cabin to herself, as it is not the custom for women to live altogether with men. Now, what I wish is, that the hinder part of the cabin, where you used to stow away your dried birds, should be made over to me. We have oars with which we can make a division, and then nail up seal skins, so that I may have that part of the cabin to myself. Now, do you understand what I want?" "Yes, but the oars are longer than the cabin is wide," observed I. "How shall we manage it?" "We have the old saw, and that will do well enough to cut them off, without its being sharpened." "I never saw one used," replied I, "and I don't understand it." "I will soon show you. First, we must measure the width of the cabin. I shall not take away more than one third of it." My mother went into the cabin, and I followed her. With a piece of fishing-line, she took the width of the cabin, and then the height up to the rafters for the door posts. We then went out, and with the saw, which she showed me how to use, and which astonished me very much, when I perceived its effects, the oars were cut up to the proper length. Gimlets I had already from the sea-chest, and nails and hammer we had just obtained from the boat, so that before the forenoon was over, the framework was all ready for nailing on the seal skins. The bag of broad-headed short nails, which had been thrown on the rocks, were excellent for this purpose, and, as I had plenty of skins, the cabin was soon divided off, with a skin between the door-jambs hanging down loose, so that any one might enter. I went inside after it was complete. "But," said I, "you have no light to see what you are about." "Not yet, but I soon will have," replied my mother. "Bring the saw here, Frank. Observe, you must cut through the side of the cabin here, a square hole of this size; three of the planks cut through will be sufficient. Begin here." I did as she directed me, and in the course of half an hour, I had cut out of the south side of the cabin a window about two feet square, which admitted plenty of light. "But won't it make it cold at night?" said I. "We will prevent that," replied she, and she took out a piece of white linen, and with some broad-headed nails, she nailed it up, so as to prevent the air from coming in, although there was still plenty of light. "There," said she, "that is but a coarse job, which I will mend bye-and-bye, but it will do for the present." "Well, it is very nice and comfortable now," said I, looking round it. "Now what shall I bring in?" "Nothing for the bed but seal skins," said she. "I do not like the feathers. The seal skins are stiff at present, but I think we may be able to soften them bye-and-bye. Now, Frank, your chest had better come in here, as it is of no use where it is, and we will make a storeroom of it, to hold all our valuables." "What, the diamonds?" replied I. "My dear boy, we have articles to put into the chest, which, in our present position, are more valuable to us than all the diamonds in the world. Tell me now, yourself, what do you prefer and set most value upon, your belt of diamonds, or the iron kettle?" "The iron kettle, to be sure," replied I. "Exactly so; and there are many things in our possession as valuable as the iron kettle, as you will hereafter acknowledge. Now do you go and get ready some fire for us, and I will finish here by myself. Nero, keep out, sir--you are never to come into this cabin." I went with Nero for a fish and when I returned, I determined that I would use the iron kettle. I put it on with water and boiled the fish, and I thought that it ate better than broiled on the embers, which made it too dry. As we sat at our meal, I said, "Dear mother, what are we to do next?" "To-morrow morning we will put the cabin into better order, and put away all our things instead of leaving them about the platform in this way. Then I will carefully look over all that we have got, and put them away in the chest. I have not yet seen the contents of the chest." The next day it was very cloudy and, rough weather, blowing fresh. After breakfast we set to work. We cleared out the floor of the cabin, which was strewed with all manner of things, for Jackson and I had not been very particular. The whale line was coiled up and put into one corner, and every thing else was brought in and a place found for it. "We must contrive some shelves," said my mother, "that we may put things on them, or else we never can be tidy; and we have not one except that which holds the books. I think we can manage it. We have two oars left besides the boat's yard; we will nail them along the side of the cabin, about a foot or more from it, and then we will cut some of the boat's sail, and nail the canvas from the side of the cabin to the oars, and that will make a sort of shelf which will hold our things." I brought in the oars, they were measured and cut off and nailed up. The canvas was then stretched from the side of the cabin to the oar, and nailed with the broad-headed nails, and made two capital shelves on each side of the cabin, running from one end to the other. "There," said my mother, "that is a good job. Now we will examine the chest and put everything away and in its place." My mother took out all the clothes, and folded them up. When she found the roll of duck which was at the bottom, she said-- "I am glad to find this as I can make a dress for myself much better for this island than this black stuff dress which I now wear, and which I will put by to wear in case we should be taken off the island some of these days, for I must dress like other people when I am again among them. The clothes are sufficient to last you for a long while, but I shall only alter two shirts and two pair of trousers to your present size, as you will grow very fast. How old do you think you are now?" I replied, "About sixteen years old, or perhaps more." "I should think that was about your age." Having examined and folded up every article of clothing in the chest, the tools, spyglass, &c., were put by me on the shelves, and then we examined the box containing the thread, needles, fishhooks, and other articles, such as buttons, &c. "These are valuable," said she; "I have some of my own to put along with them. Go and fetch my basket, I have not yet had time to look into it since I left the ship." "What is there in it?" "Except brushes and combs, I can hardly say. When I travelled about, I always carried my basket, containing those things most requisite for daily use, and in the basket I put everything that I wished to preserve, till I had an opportunity to put it away. When I embarked on board of the whaler, I brought my basket on my arm as usual, but except opening it for my brushes and combs or scissors, I have not examined it for months." "What are brushes and combs and scissors?" "That I will shew you," replied she, opening the lid of the basket. "These are the brushes and combs for cleaning the hair, and these are scissors. Now we will take everything out." The basket did indeed appear to contain a wonderful quantity of things, almost all new to me. There were two brushes, twelve combs, three pair of scissors, a penknife, a little bottle of ink, some pens, a woman's thimble, a piece of wax, a case of needles, thread and silk, a piece of India ink, and a camel's-hair brush, sealing-wax, sticking plaster, a box of pills, some tape and bobbin, paper of pins, a magnifying glass, silver pencil case, some money in a purse, black shoe ribbon, and many other articles which I have forgotten. All I know is that I never was so much interested ever after at any show as I was with the contents of this basket, all of which were explained to me by my mother, as to their uses, and how they were made. There were several little papers at the bottom of the basket which she said were seeds of plants, which she had collected to take to England with her, and that we would plant them here. As she shook the dust out of the basket after it was empty, two or three white things tumbled out, which she asked me to pick up and give to her. "I don't know how they came here," said she, "but three of them are orange-pips which we will sow to-morrow, and the other is a pea, but of what kind I know not, we will sow that also--but I fear it will not come up, as it appears to me to be one of the peas served out to the sailors on board ship, and will be too old to grow. We can but try. Now we will put into the chest, with the other things that you have, what we do not want for present use, and then I can drive a nail into the side of my bedroom and hang my basket on it." "But," said I, "this round glass--what is that for?" "Put it on one side," replied she, "and to-morrow, if it is fine, I will shew you the use of it; but there are some things we have forgotten, which are your belt and the other articles you gave me to take for you when you thought we were to leave the island. They are in the bed-place opposite to yours." I brought them, and she put away the mate's watch and sleeve buttons, and the other trinkets, &c., saying that she would examine the letters and papers at another time. The belt was examined, counting how many of the squares had stones in them, and then, with her scissors, she cut open one of the squares, and took out a white glittering thing like glass as it appeared to me, and looked at it carefully. "I am no great judge of these things," said she, "but still I have picked up some little knowledge. This belt, if it contain all stones like this, must be of considerable value; now I must get out my needle and thread and sew it up again." She did, and put the belt away with the other articles in the chest. "And now," said she, "we have done a good day's work, and it is time to have something to eat." Chapter XXVI I must say that I was much better pleased with the appearance of the cabin, it was so neat and clean to what it had been, and everything was out of the way. The next day was a calm and clear day, and we went down to fish. We were fortunate, and procured almost as many as we had done at the previous fishing--they were all put in the bathing pool as before. When we went up to the cabin, as soon as the fish was put on the fire, under the direction of my mother, I turned up the sides of one of the pieces of sheet iron, so as to make a sort of dish. The other piece I did the same to, only not so high at the sides, as one piece was kept for baking the fish on and the other as a dish to put our dinner upon when cooked. That day we had been too busy with fishing to think of anything else, but on the following I recollected the magnifying glass, and brought it to her. She first showed me the power it had to magnify, with which I was much amused for a time, and she explained as well as she could to me the cause of its having that power, but I could not well understand her; I was more pleased with the effect than cognisant of the cause. Afterwards she sent me to the cabin for some of the dried moss which I used for tinder, and placing the glass so as to concentrate the rays of the sun, to my astonishment I saw the tinder caught fire. It was amazement more than astonishment, and I looked up to see where the fire came from. My mother explained to me, and I, to a certain degree, comprehended, but I was too anxious to have the glass in my own hands and try experiments. I lighted the tinder again-then I burnt my hand--then I singed one of the gannet's heads, and lastly, perceiving that Nero was fast asleep in the sun, I obtained the focus on his cold nose. He started up with a growl, which made me retreat, and I was perfectly satisfied with the result of my experiments. From that time, the fire was, when the sun shone, invariably lighted by the burning-glass, and very useful did I find it. As it was so portable, I always carried it with me, and when I had nothing to do, I magnified, or set fire, according to the humour of the moment. Although I have not mentioned it, not a morning rose, but before breakfast, I read the Scriptures to my mother. "There's so much in that book which I cannot understand," said I, one morning. "I suspect that, living as you have, alone on this island, and having seen nothing of the world," replied my mother, "that there are not many books that you would understand." "But I understand all that is said in the Beast and Bird Book," replied I. "Perhaps you may, or think you do; but, Frank, you must not class the Bible with other books. The other books are the works of man, but the Bible is the word of God. There are many portions of that book which the cleverest men, who have devoted their lives to its study, cannot understand, and which never will be understood as long as this world endures. In many parts the Bible is a sealed book." "But will it never be understood then by anybody?" "There is quite as much of the Bible as is necessary for men to follow its precepts, and this is so clear that anybody may understand it--it contains all that is necessary for salvation; but there are passages, the true meaning of which we cannot explain, and which God, for his own purposes, will not permit us to. But if we do not know them now, we shall probably hereafter, when we have left this world, and our intellects more nearly approach God's." "Well, I don't understand why we should not understand it." "Frank," replied she, "look at that flower just in bloom. Do you understand how it is that that plant keeps alive--grows every year--every year throws out a large blue flower? Why should it do so? why should the flower always be blue? and whence comes that beautiful colour? Can you tell me? You see, you know that it does do so; but can you tell me what makes it do so?" "No." "Look at that bird. You know it is hatched from an egg. How is it that the inside of an egg is changed into a bird? How is it that the bird is covered with feathers, and has the power to fly? Can you explain to me yourself? You can walk about just as you please--you have the power of reasoning, and thinking, and of acting; but by what means is it that you possess that power? Can you tell? You know that is so, but you know no more. You can't tell why or how or what causes produce these effects--can you?" "No." "Well, then, if you are surrounded by all manner of things, living and dead, and see every day things which you cannot explain, or understand, why should you be surprised that, as God has not let you know by what means these effects are produced, that in his written word he should also keep from you that which for good purposes you are not permitted to know. Everything here is by God's will, and that must be sufficient for us. Now do you understand?" "Yes, I see now what you mean, but I never thought about these things before. Tell me some more about the Bible." "Not now. Some day I will give you a history of the Bible, and then you will understand the nature of the book, and why it was written; but not at present. Suppose, as we have nothing particular to do, you tell me all you know about yourself from Jackson, and all that happened while you lived with him. I have heard only part, and I should like to know all." "Very well," replied I. "I will tell you everything, but it will take a long while." "We shall have plenty of time to spare, my dear boy, I fear, before we leave this place; so, never mind time--tell me everything." I commenced my narrative, but I was interrupted. "Have you never been able to call your own mother to your memory?" said she. "I think I can now, since I have seen you, but I could not before. I now can recollect a person dressed like you, kneeling down and praying by my side; and I said before, the figure has appeared in my dreams, and much oftener since you have been here." "And your father?" "I have not the slightest remembrance of him, or anybody else except my mother." I then proceeded, and continued my narrative until it was time to go to bed; but as I was very circumstantial, and was often interrupted by questions, I had not told a quarter of what I had to say. Chapter XXVII Mrs Reichardt had promised to give me a history of the Bible; and one day, when the weather kept us both at home, she thus commenced her narrative:-- "The Bible is a history of God's doings for the salvation of man. It commences with the fall of man by disobedience, and ends with the sacrifice made for his reinstatement. As by one man, Adam, sin came into the world, so by one man, Jesus Christ, was sin and death overcome. If you will refer to the third chapter of Genesis, at the very commencement of the Bible, you will find that at the same time that Adam receives his punishment, a promise is made by the Lord, that the head of the serpent shall hereafter be bruised. The whole of the Bible, from the very commencement, is an announcement of the coming of Christ; so that as soon as the fault had been committed, the Almighty, in his mercy, had provided a remedy. Nothing is unknown or unforeseen by God. "Recollect, Frank, that the Bible contains the history of God's doings, but it does not often tell us why such things were done. It must be sufficient for us to know that such was the will of God; when he thinks proper, he allows us to understand his ways, but to our limited capacities, most of his doings are inscrutable. But, are we to suppose that, because we, in our foolishness, cannot comprehend his reasons, that therefore they must be cavilled at? Do you understand me, Frank?" "Yes," replied I; "I do pretty well." "As I pointed out to you the other day, you see the blade of grass grow, and you see it flower, but how it does so you know not. If then you are surrounded all your life with innumerable things which you see but cannot comprehend--when all nature is a mystery to you--even yourself--how can you expect to understand the dealings of God in other things? When, therefore, you read the Bible, you must read it with faith." "What is faith? I don't quite understand, mother." "Frank, I have often told you of many things that are in England, where you one day hope to go. Now, if when you arrive in England, you find that everything that I have told you is quite true, you will be satisfied that I am worthy of belief." "Yes." "Well, suppose some one were to tell you something relative to any other country, which you could not understand, and you came to me and asked me if such were the case, would you, having found that I told you truth with regard to England, believe that what you had been told of this other country was true, if I positively asserted that it was so?" "Of course I should, mother." "Well, then, Frank, that would be faith; a belief in things not only not seen, but which you cannot understand. But to go on, I mention this because some people are so presumptuous as to ask the why and the wherefore of God's doings, and attempt to argue upon their justice, forgetting that the little reason they have is the gift of God, and that they must be endowed with intellect equal to the Almighty, to enable them to know and perceive that which he decides upon. But if God has not permitted us to understand all his ways, still, wherever we can trace the finger of God, we can always perceive that everything is directed by an all-wise and beneficent hand; and that, although the causes appear simple, the effects produced are extraordinary and wonderful. We shall observe this as we talk over the history of the Jews, in the Bible. But, I repeat, that we must study the whole of the Bible with faith, and not be continually asking ourselves, 'Why was this done?' If you will turn to the ninth chapter of the Epistle to the Romans, you will see what the Apostle Paul says on the subject: 'Nay but, O man, who art thou that repliest against God?' Shall the thing formed say to him that formed it, 'Why hast thou made me thus?' Do you not understand in what spirit the Bible should be read?" "Yes, I do. We must read it as the Word of God, and believe all that we read in it." "Exactly;--now we will proceed. After Adam's fall, the earth became so wicked that God destroyed it, leaving but Noah and his family to re-people it; and as soon as this was done, the Almighty prepared for his original intention for the future salvation of men. He selected Abraham, who was a good man, and who had faith, to be the father of a nation chosen for his own people--that was the Jewish nation. He told him that his seed should multiply as the stars in the heavens, and that all the nations of the earth should be blessed in him; that is, that from his descendants should Christ be born, who should be the salvation of men. Abraham's great-grandchildren were brought into Egypt, to live apart in the land of Goshen. You have read the history of Joseph and his brethren?" "Oh yes; I know that well." "Well, the Almighty wished the Jews should be a nation apart from others, and for that purpose he brought them into Egypt. But observe, Frank, by what simple and natural causes this was effected. It was by a dream of Joseph's, which, when he told them of it, irritated his brothers against him; they sold him as a slave, and he was sent into Egypt. There, having explained the dream of Pharaoh, he was made a ruler over Egypt, and saved that country from the famine which was in every other land. His brothers come down to buy corn, and he recognises them. He sends for his father and all the family, and establishes them in the land of Goshen, as shepherds, apart from the Egyptians. Here they multiplied fast; but after Joseph's elevation they were cruelly treated by the Egyptians, who became afraid of their rapid increase, and eventually the Kings of Egypt gave orders that all the male children of the Jews should be destroyed. It was at this time, when they were so oppressed and cruelly treated by the Egyptians, that God interfered and sent for Moses. Moses, like all the rest of the Jews, knew nothing of the true God, and was difficult to persuade, and it was only by miracles that he was convinced." "Why did God keep the Jews apart from the Egyptians, and have them thrown in bondage?" "Because he wished to prepare them to become his own peculiar people. By their being descended from Abraham, and having never intermarried with other nations, they had become a pure race; by being in bondage and severely treated, they had suffered and become united as a people. They knew no Gods but those worshipped by the Egyptians, and these Gods it was now the intention of the Almighty to confound, and prove to the Jews as worthless. At the same time he worked with his own nation in mystery, for when Moses asked him what God he was to tell his people that he was, the Almighty only replied by these words--_I am_; having no name like all the false Gods worshipped by the Egyptians. He was now about to prove, by his wonderful miracles, the difference between himself and the false Gods." "What are miracles?" "A miracle is doing that which man has no power of doing, proving that the party who does it is superior to man: for instance--to restore a dead man to life is a miracle, as none but God, or those empowered by God could do. Miracles were necessary, therefore, to prove to the Jews that the Almighty was the true God, and were resorted to by him in this instance, as well as in the coming of Our Saviour, when it was also necessary to prove that he was the Son of God. When the Almighty sent Moses to Pharaoh to demand that the Israelites should have permission to sacrifice in the desert, he purposely hardened the heart of Pharaoh that he might refuse the request." "But why did he so?" "Because he wanted to prove to the Israelites that he was the only true God and had Pharaoh consented to their going away, there would have been no opportunity of performing those miracles by which the Israelites were to be delivered, and by which they were to acknowledge him as their God." Mrs Reichardt often renewed this conversation, till I became acquainted with Scriptural History. Chapter XXVIII The following morning, I went with Nero to take a couple of fish out of the pool. As soon as Nero had caught them, he went into the other part of the bathing pool to amuse himself, while I cleaned the fish, which I generally did before I went up to the cabin, giving him the heads and insides for his share, if I did not require any portion for the birds. Nero was full of play that morning, and when I threw the heads to him, as he frolicked in the water, he brought them out to the rocks, but instead of eating them, as usual, he laid them at my feet. I threw them in several times, and he continued to bring them out, and my mother, coming down to me, was watching him. "I think," said she, "you must teach Nero to fetch and carry like a dog--try. Instead of the heads, throw in this piece of wood;" which she now broke off the boat-hook staff. I did so, and Nero brought it out, as he had done the heads of the fish. I patted and coaxed the animal, and tried him again several times with success. "Now," said my mother, "you must accustom him to certain words when you send him for anything. Always say, 'Fetch it, Nero!' and point with your finger." "Why am I to do that, mother?" I asked. "Because the object to be gained is, not that the animal should fetch out what you throw in, but what you send it to bring out which you have not thrown in. Do you understand?" "Yes," replied I. "You mean if there were anything floating near on the sea, I should send him for it." "Exactly. Then Nero would be of some use." "I will soon teach him," replied I; "to-morrow I will send him into the sea after the piece of spar. I've no fear that he will go away now." "I was thinking last night, Frank, whether they had taken the pail with them in the boat." "The pail," said I; "I know where it is, but I quite forgot it. We left it up the ravine the last day we planted the potatoes." "We did so, now I recollect. I will go for it while you get the breakfast ready." We had now been for many weeks on a fish diet, and I must confess that I was tired of it, which was not the case when I lived upon the dried birds during the whole of the year. Why so I cannot tell, but I was soon to learn to relish fish, if I could obtain them. It was not often that the wind blew direct on the shore, but coming from the northward and eastward, it was in a slanting direction, but occasionally, and chiefly about the time of the Equinoxes, the gales came on very heavy from the eastward, and then the wash of the seas upon the rocky coast was tremendous. Such was the case about this time. A fierce gale of wind from the eastward raised a sea which threw the surf and spray high over the loftiest of the rocks, and the violence of the wind bore the spray far inland. The gale had come on in the evening, and my mother and I, when we rose in the morning, were standing on the platform before the cabin, admiring the grandeur of the scene, but without the least idea that it was to be productive of so much misery to ourselves. My mother pointed out to me some passages in the Psalms and Old Testament bearing strongly upon the scene before us; after a time I called Nero, and went down with him to take fish out of the pool for our day's consumption. At that time we had a large supply in the pool--more than ever, I should say. When I arrived at the pool, I found the waves several feet in height rolling in over the ledges, and the pool one mass of foam, the water in it being at least two or three feet higher than usual; still it never occurred to me that there was any mischief done, until I had sent Nero in for the fish, and found that, after floundering and diving for some time, he did not bring out one. My mind misgave me, and I ordered him in again. He remained some time and then returned without a fish, and I was then satisfied that from the rolling in of the waves, and the unusual quantity of the water in the pool, the whole of the fish had escaped, and that we were now without any provisions or means of subsistence, until the weather should settle, and enable us to catch some more. Aghast at the discovery, I ran up to the cabin, and called to my mother, who was in her bedroom. "Oh, mother, all the fish have got out of the pool, and we have nothing to eat. I told you we should be starved." "Take time, Frank, and take breath," replied she, "and then tell me what has happened, to cause this alarm and dismay, that you appear to be in." I explained to her what had happened, and that Nero could not find one fish. "I fear that what you say must be correct," replied she; "but we must put our trust in God. It is his will, and whatever he wills must be right." I cannot say I was Christian enough at the time to acknowledge the truth of her reply, and I answered, "If God is as good and as gracious as you say, will he allow us to starve? Does he know that we are starving?" continued I. "Does he know, Frank?" replied my mother; "what does the Bible say--that not a sparrow falls to the ground without his knowledge; and of how much more worth are you than many sparrows? Shame upon you, Frank!" I was abashed but not satisfied, I therefore replied quietly, "We have nothing to eat, mother." "Granted that we have lost all our fish, Frank, still we are not yet starving; the weather may moderate tomorrow, and we may catch some more, or even if it should not till the day afterwards, we can bear to be two days without food. Let us hope for the best and put our trust in God--let us pray to him and ask him for his assistance. He can rebuke these stormy waters--he can always find means of helping those who put confidence in him, and will send us aid when all hope appears gone. Pray, Frank, as I will do, fervently, and believing that your prayer is heard--pray with faith, and your prayer will be answered." "It is not always so," replied I; "you have told me of many people who have died of starvation." "I grant it, and for all wise purposes they were permitted so to do, but the Almighty had reasons for permitting it, unknown to us, but which you may depend upon it, were good. We cannot fathom his decrees. He may even now decide that such is to be our fate; but if so, depend upon it, Frank, all is right, and what appears to you now as cruel and neglectful of you, would, if the future could be looked into by us, prove to have been an act of mercy." "Do you think, then, that we shall starve?" "I do not--I have too much faith in God's mercy, and I do not think that he would have preserved our lives by preventing the men from taking us into the boat, if we were now to starve. God is not inconsistent; and I feel assured that, forlorn as our present position appears to be, and tried as our faith in him may be, we shall still be preserved, and live to be monuments of his gracious love and kindness." These words of my mother and the implicit confidence which she appeared to have, much revived me. "Well," said I, "I hope you are right, my dear mother, and now I think of it," continued I, brightening up at the idea, "if the worst come to the worst, we can eat the birds; I don't care much for them now, and if I did, you should not starve, mother." "I believe you would not hesitate to sacrifice the birds, Frank, but a greater sacrifice may be demanded of you." "What?" inquired I; and then after a little thought, I said, "You don't mean Nero, mother?" "To tell the truth, I did mean Nero, Frank, for the birds will not be a support for more than a day or two." "I never could kill Nero, mother," replied I gloomily, and walking away into the cabin, I sat down very melancholy at the idea of my favourite being sacrificed; to me it appeared quite horrible, and my mother having referred to it, made her fall very much in my good opinion. Alas! I was indeed young and foolish, and little thought what a change would take place in my feelings. As for the birds, as I really did not care for them, I resolved to kill two of them for our day's meal, and returning to the platform I had laid hold of the two that were there and had seized both by the neck, when my mother asked me what I was going to do. "Kill them, and put them in the pot for our dinner," replied I. "Nay, Frank! you are too hasty. Let us make some little sacrifice, even for the poor birds. We surely can fast one day without very great suffering. To-morrow will be time enough." I dropped the birds from my hand, tacitly consenting to her proposal. It was not, however, for the sake of the birds that I did so, but because one day's respite for the birds would be a day's respite for Nero. "Come," said my mother, "let us go into the cabin and get some work. I will alter some of the clothes for you. What will you do?" "I don't know," replied I, "but I will do whatever you tell me." "Well, then, I perceive that the two fishing-lines are much worn, and they may break very soon, and then we shall be without the means of taking fish, even if the weather is fine, so now we will cut off some of the whale line, and when it is unravelled, I will show you how to lay it up again into fishing line; and, perhaps, instead of altering the clothes, I had better help you, as fishing-lines are now of more consequence to us than anything else." This was an arrangement which I gladly consented to. In a short time the whale line was unravelled, and my mother showed me how to lay it up in three yarns, so as to make a stout fishing line. She assisted, and the time passed away more rapidly than I had expected it would. "You are very clever, mother," said I. "No, my child, I am not, but I certainly do know many things which women in general are not acquainted with; but the reason of this is, I have lived a life of wandering, and occasional hardships. Often left to our own resources, when my husband and I were among strangers, we found the necessity of learning to do many things for ourselves, which those who have money usually employ others to do for them; but I have been in situations where even money was of no use, and had to trust entirely to myself. I have therefore always made it a rule to learn everything that I could; and as I have passed much of my life in sailing over the deep waters, I obtained much useful knowledge from the seamen, and this of laying up fishing lines is one of the arts which they communicated to me. Now, you see, I reap the advantage of it." "Yes," replied I; "and so do I. How lucky it was that you came to this island!" "Lucky for me, do you mean, Frank?" "No, mother! I mean how lucky for me." "I trust that I have been sent here to be useful, Frank, and with that feeling I cheerfully submit to the will of God. He has sent me that I may be useful to you, I do not doubt; and if by my means you are drawn towards him, and, eventually, become one of his children, I shall have fulfilled my mission." "I do not understand you quite, mother." "No, you cannot as yet, but everything in season," replied she, slowly musing; "'First the blade, then the ear, and then the full corn in the ear.'" "Mother," said I, "I should like to hear the whole story of your life. You know I have told you all that I know about myself. Now suppose you tell me your history, and that of your husband. You did say that perhaps, one day you would. Do you recollect?" "Yes, I do recollect that I did make a sort of promise, Frank, and I promise you now that some day I will fulfil it; but I am not sure that you will understand or profit by the history now, so much as you may bye-and-bye." "Well, but mother, you can tell me the story twice, and I shall be glad to hear it again, so tell it to me now, to amuse me, and bye-and-bye that I may profit by it." My mother smiled, which she very seldom did, and said-- "Well, Frank, as I know you would at any time give up your dinner to listen to a story, and as you will have no dinner to-day, I think it is but fair that I should consent to your wish. Who shall I begin with--with my husband or with myself?" "Pray begin with your own history," replied I. Chapter XXIX "I am the daughter of a parish clerk in a small market town near the southern coast of England, within a few miles of a large seaport." "What is a parish clerk?" I asked, interrupting my mother at the commencement of her promised narrative. "A parish clerk," she replied, "is a man who is employed in the parish or place to which he belongs, to fulfil certain humble duties in connection with the church or place of worship where the people meet together to worship God." "What does he do there?" I inquired. "He gives out the psalms that are to be sung, leads the congregation in making their responses to the minister appointed to perform the services of the church; has the custody of the registry of births, deaths, and burials of the inhabitants, and the care of the church monuments, and of other property belonging to the building. In some places he also fulfils the duties of bell-ringer and grave-digger; that is to say, by ringing a large bell at the top of the church, he summons the people to their devotions, during their lives, and digs a hole in consecrated ground, surrounding the sacred building, to receive their bodies when dead." I mused on this strange combination of offices, and entertained a notion of the importance of such a functionary, which I afterwards found was completely at variance with the real state of the case. "My father," she resumed, "not only fulfilled all these duties, but contrived to perform the functions of schoolmaster to the parish children." "What are parish children?" I asked eagerly. "I know what children are, as Jackson represented to me that I was the child of my father and mother, but what makes children, parish children?" "They are the children of the poor," Mrs Reichardt replied, "who, not being able to afford them instruction, willingly allow them to be taught at the expense of the people of the parish generally." I thought this a praiseworthy arrangement. I knew nothing of poors-rates, and the system of giving relief to the poor of the parish, so long used in England, afterwards explained to me, but the kindness and wisdom of this plan of instruction became evident to my understanding. I was proceeding to ask other questions, when my mother stopped them by saying, that if I expected her to get through her story, I must let her proceed without further interruption; for many things would be mentioned by her which demanded explanation, for one so completely unaware of their existence as myself, and that it would be impossible to make me thoroughly acquainted with such things within any reasonable time; the proper explanations, she promised, should follow. She then proceeded. "My father, it may be thought, had enough on his hands, but in an obscure country town, it is not unusual for one man to unite the occupations of several, and this was particularly the case with my father, who, in addition to the offices I have enumerated, was the best cattle-doctor and bone-setter within ten miles; and often earned his bread at different kinds of farmer's work, such as thatching, hedging, ditching and the like. Nevertheless, he found time to read his Bible, and bring up his only daughter religiously. This daughter was myself." "What had become of your mother?" I asked, as I thought it strange Mrs Reichardt should only mention one parent. "She had died very soon after my birth," she answered, "and I was left at first to the care of a poor woman, who nursed me; as soon, however, as I could run about, and had exhibited some signs of intelligence, my father began to get so partial to me, that he very reluctantly allowed me to go out of his sight. He took great pains in teaching me what he knew, and though the extent of his acquirements was by no means great, it was sufficient to lay a good foundation, and establish a desire for more comprehensive information, which I sought every available means to obtain. "I remember that at a very early age I exhibited an extraordinary curiosity for a child; constantly asking questions, not only of my father, but of all his friends and visitors, and, as they seemed to consider me a quick and lively child, they took pleasure in satisfying my inquisitive spirit. In this way I gained a great deal of knowledge, and, by observation of what passed around me, a great deal more. "It soon became a source of pride and gratification with my father, to ask me to read the Bible to him. This naturally led to a good many inquiries on my part, and numerous explanations on his. In course of time, I became familiar with all the sacred writings, and knew their spirit and meaning much better than many persons who were more than double my age. "My fondness for such studies, and consequent reputation, attracted the attention of Dr Brightwell, the clergyman of our parish, who had the kindness to let me share the instructions of his children, and still further advanced my education, and still more increased my natural predilection for religious information. By the time I was thirteen, I became quite a prodigy in Christian learning, and was often sent for to the parsonage, to astonish the great people of the neighbourhood, by the facility with which I answered the most puzzling questions that were put to me, respecting the great mysteries of Christianity." Chapter XXX It was about this time that I first became acquainted with an orphan boy, an inmate of the workhouse, who had been left to the care of the parish by the sudden death of his parents, a German clock-maker and his wife, from a malignant fever which had visited the neighbourhood, and taken off a considerable portion of the labouring population. I had been sent on errands from my father, to the master of the workhouse, a severe, sullen man, of whom I had a great dread, and I noticed this child, in consequence of his pale and melancholy countenance, and apparently miserable condition. I observed that no one took any notice of him; and that he was allowed to wander about the great straggling workhouse, among the insane, the idiotic, and the imbecile, without the slightest attention being paid to his going and coming; in short, he lived the wretched life of a workhouse boy. "I see that you are eager to ask what is a workhouse boy," said my mother, "so I will anticipate your question. There is, in the various parishes of the country to which we both belong, a building expressly set apart for the accommodation and support of the destitute and disabled poor. It usually contains inmates of all ages, from the infant just born, to the very aged, whose infirmities shew them to be on the verge of the grave. They are all known to be in a state of helpless poverty, and quite unable to earn a subsistence for themselves. In this building they are clothed and fed; the younger provided with instruction necessary to put them in the way of earning a livelihood; the elders of the community enjoying the consolations of religion, accorded to them by the regular visits of the chaplain." "I suppose," I here observed, "that the people who lived there, were deeply impressed with their good fortune in finding such an asylum?" "As far as I could ever ascertain," Mrs Reichardt replied, "it was exactly the reverse. It was always thought so degrading to enter a workhouse, that the industrious labourer would endure any and every privation rather than live there. An honest hard-working man must be sorely driven indeed, to seek such a shelter in his distress." "That seems strange," I observed. "Why should he object to receive what he so much stands in need of?" "When he thus comes upon the funds of the parish," answered my mother, "he becomes what is called a pauper, and among the English peasantry of the better sort, there is the greatest possible aversion to be ranked with this degraded class. Consequently, the inmates of the workhouses are either those whose infirmities prevent their earning a subsistence, or the idle and the dissolute, who feel none of the honest prejudices of self-dependence, and care only to live from day to day on the coarse and meagre fare afforded them by the charity of their wealthier and more industrious fellow-creatures. "The case of this poor boy I thought very pitiable. I found out that his name was Heinrich Reichardt. He could speak no language but his own, and therefore his wants remained unknown, and his feelings unregarded. He had been brought up with a certain sense of comfort and decency, which was cruelly outraged by the position in which he found himself placed by the sudden death of his parents. I observed that he was often in tears, and his fair features and light hair contrasted remarkably with the squalid faces and matted locks of his companions. His wretchedness never failed to make a deep impression on me. "I brought him little presents, and strove to express my sympathy for his sufferings. He seemed, at first, more surprised than grateful, but I shortly discovered that my attentions gave him unusual pleasure, and he looked upon my visits as his only solace and gratification. "Even at this period I exercised considerable influence over my father, and I managed to interest him in the case of the poor foreign boy to such an extent, that he was induced to take him out of the workhouse, and find him a home under his own roof. He was at first reluctant to burden himself with the bringing up of a child, who, from his foreign language and habits, could be of little use to him in his avocations; but I promised to teach him English, and all other learning of which he stood most in need, and assured my father that in a prodigious short time I would make him a much abler assistant than he was likely to find among the boys of the town. "My father's desire to please me, rather than any faith he reposed in my assertions, led him to allow me to do as I pleased in this affair. I lost no time, therefore, in beginning my course of instruction, and in a few weeks ascertained that I had an apt pupil, who was determined to proceed with his education as fast as circumstances would admit. We were soon able to express our ideas to each other, and in a few months read together the book out of which I had received so many invaluable lessons. "In a short time, I became not less proud of, than partial to, my pupil. I took him through the same studies which I had pursued under the auspices of our clergyman, and was secretly pleased to find, not only that he was singularly quick in imbibing my instructions, but displayed a strong natural taste for those investigations towards which I had shown so marked a bias. "Day after day have we sat together discoursing of the great events recorded in Holy Writ: going over every chapter of its marvellous records, page by page, till the whole was so firmly fixed upon our minds, that we had no necessity during our conversations for referring to the Sacred Book. We found examples we held up to ourselves for imitation; we found incidents we regarded as promises of Divine protection; we found consolation and comfort, as well as exhortation and advice; and, moreover, we found a sort of instruction that led us to select for ourselves duties that apparently tended to bring us nearer to the Great Being whose goodness we had so diligently studied. "My father seemed as much pleased with my successful teaching, as he had been with my successful learning; and when young Reichardt turned out a remarkably handy and intelligent lad, to whose assistance in some of his avocations he could have recourse with perfect confidence in his cleverness and discretion, he grew extremely partial to him. Dr Brightwell also proved his friend, and in a few years, the condition of the friendless workhouse boy was so changed, he could not have been taken for the same person. "He was a boy of a very grateful spirit, and always regarded me with the devotion of a most thankful heart. Often would he contrast the wretchedness of his previous condition, with the happiness he now enjoyed, and express in the warmest terms his obligations to me for the important service I had rendered him in rescuing him from the abject misery of the workhouse. Under these circumstances, it is not extraordinary, that we should learn to regard each other with the liveliest feelings of affection, and while we were still children, endured all the transports and torments which make up the existence of more experienced lovers." "I do not like interrupting you," I here observed, "but I certainly should like to know what is meant by the word lovers?" "I can scarcely explain it to you satisfactorily at present," said Mrs Reichardt, with a smile; "but I have no doubt, before many years have passed over your head--always provided that you escape from this island--you will understand it without requiring any explanation. But I must now leave my story, as many things of much consequence to our future welfare now demand my careful attention." I could not then ascertain from her what was meant by the word whose meaning I had asked. It had very much excited my curiosity, but she left me to attend to her domestic duties, of which she was extremely regardful, and I had no opportunity at that time of eliciting from her the explanation I desired. Chapter XXXI It is impossible for me to overrate the value of Mrs Reichardt's assistance. Indeed had it not been for her, circumstanced as I was at this particular period, I should in all probability have perished. Her exhortations saved me from despair, when our position seemed to have grown quite desperate. But example did more, even, than precept. Her ingenuity in devising expedients, her activity in putting them in force, her unfailing cheerfulness under disappointment, and Christian resignation under privation, produced the best results. I was enabled to bear up against the ill effects of our crippled resources, consequent upon the ill conduct of the sailors of the whaler, and the failure of our fish-pond. She manufactured strong lines for deep sea fishing, and having discovered a shelf of rock, little more than two feet above the sea, to which with a good deal of difficulty I could descend, I took my stand one day on the rock with my lines baited with a piece of one of my feathered favourites, whom dire necessity had at last forced me to destroy. I waited with all the patience of a veteran angler. I knew the water to be very deep, and it lay in a sheltered nook or corner of the rocks about ten feet across; I allowed the line to drop some three or four yards, and not having any float, could only tell I had a bite by feeling a pull at the line, which was wound round my arm. After some time having been passed in this way, my attention was withdrawn from the line, and given to the narrative I had so lately heard--that is to say, though my eyes were still fixed upon the line, I had completely given up my thoughts to the story of the poor German boy, who had been snatched from poverty by the interference of the parish clerk's daughter, and I contrived to speculate on what I should have done under such circumstances, imagining all sorts of extravagances in which I should have indulged, to testify my gratitude to so amiable and benevolent a friend. A singular course of ideal scenes followed each other in quick succession in my mind--as I fancied myself the hero of a similar adventure. I regarded my imaginary benefactress with feelings of such intensity as I had never before experienced; and it seemed that I was to her the exciting object of sentiments of a like nature, the knowledge of which awoke in our hearts the most agreeable sensations. I was rudely disturbed out of this day-dream by finding myself suddenly plunged into the deep water beneath me. The shock was so startling, that some seconds elapsed before I could comprehend my situation; and then it became clear that I must have hooked a fish, that had not only succeeded in pulling me off my balance, but the line by which he was held being round my arm, cutting painfully into the flesh, threatened drowning by keeping me under water. With great difficulty I managed to rise to the surface, and loosened the windings of the line from my limb; then, anxious to retain possession of what from its force must have been a fish well worth some trouble in catching, I held on with both hands, and pulled with all my strength. At first, by main force I was drawn through the water; then when I found the strain slacken, I drew in the line. This manoeuvre was repeated several times, till I succeeded in obtaining a view of what I had caught; or, more properly speaking, of what had caught me. It was merely a glimpse; for the fish, which was a very large one, getting a sight of me within a few yards of him, made some desperate plunges, and again darted off, dragging me along with him, sometimes under the water, and sometimes on the surface. His body was nearly round, and about seven or eight feet long--rather a formidable antagonist for close quarters; nevertheless, I was most eager to get at him, the more so, when I ascertained that his resistance was evidently decreasing. I continued to approach, and at last got near enough to plunge my knife up to the haft in his head, which at once put an end to the struggle. But now another difficulty presented itself. In the ardour of the chase I had been drawn nearly a mile from the island, and I found it impossible to carry back the produce of my sport, exhausted as I was by the efforts I had made in capturing him. I knew I could not swim with such a burthen for the most inconsiderable portion of the distance. My fish therefore must be abandoned. Here was a bountiful supply of food, as soon as placed within reach, rendered totally unavailable. I thought of Mrs Reichardt. I thought how gratified she would have been, could I have brought to her such an excellent addition to our scanty stock of food. Then I thought of her steadfast reliance upon Providence, and what valuable lessons of piety and wisdom she would read me, if she found me depressed by my disappointment. Chapter XXXII As soon as I could disconnect my tackle from the dead fish, I turned my face homewards, and struck out manfully for the shore; luckily I did not observe any sharks. I landed safely without further adventure, and immediately sought my kind friend and companion, whom I found, as usual, industriously employed in endeavouring to secure me additional comforts. If she was not engaged in ordinary women's work, making, mending, cleaning, or improving, in our habitation, she was sure to be found doing something in the immediate neighbourhood, which, though less feminine, shewed no less forethought, prudence, and sagacity. Our garden had prospered wonderfully under her hands. The ground seemed now stocked with various kinds of vegetation, of which I neither knew the value, nor the proper mode of cultivation; and we seemed about to be surrounded with shrubs and plants--many of very pleasing appearance--that must in a short time entirely change the aspect of the place. She heard my adventure with a good deal of interest, only remonstrating with me upon my want of caution, and dwelling upon the fatal consequences that must have ensued to herself, had I been drowned or disabled by falling from the rock, or devoured by the sharks. "You may consider yourself, my dear son," she observed, with serious earnestness, "to have been under the Divine care. Nothing can be clearer than that a wise and kind Providence is continually watching over his creatures when placed in unusual or perilous circumstances. He occasionally affords them manifestations of his favour, to encourage them when engaged in good works. This shews the comprehensive eye of the master of many workmen, who overlooks the labours of his more industrious servants, and indicates to them his regard for their welfare and appreciation of their labours." "But surely," I interposed, "if I had been under the superintendence of the Providence of which you speak, I should not have been obliged to abandon so capital a fish, when I had endured such trouble to capture it, and when its possession was so necessary to our comfort, nay, even to our existence." "The very abandonment of so unwieldy a creature," she replied, "is unanswerable evidence of a Divine interposition in your favour; for had you persisted in your intention of carrying it to the shore, there is but little doubt that its weight would have overpowered you, and that you would have been drowned; and then what would have become of me? A woman left in this desolate spot to her own resources, must soon be forced to give up the struggle for existence, from want of physical strength. Nevertheless, there are numerous instances on record, of women having surmounted hardships which few men could endure. Supported by our Heavenly Father, who is so powerful a protector of the weak, and friend of the helpless, the weakest of our weak sex may triumph over the most intolerable sufferings. I, however, am not over confident of being so supported, and therefore, I think it would be but shewing a proper consideration for your fellow exile, to act in every emergency with as much circumspection and prudence as possible." I promised that for the future I would run no such risks, and added many professions of regard for her safety. They had the desired effect; I pretended to think no more of my disappointment, nevertheless, I found myself constantly dwelling on the size of my lost fish, and lamenting my being obliged to abandon him to his more voracious brethren of the deep. These thoughts so filled my mind that at night I continued to dream over again the whole incident, beginning with my patient angling from the rock, and concluding with my disconsolate swim to shore--and pursued my scaly antagonist quite as determinedly in my sleep as I had done in the deep waters. I rose early after having passed so disturbed a night, and soon made my way to the usual haunt of Nero, whom I discovered in the sea near the rocks making all sorts of strange tumblings and divings, apparently after some dark object that was floating in the water. I called him away, to examine what it was that had so attracted his attention, and my surprise may be imagined when I made out the huge form of my enemy of the preceding day. My shouts and exclamations of joy soon brought Mrs Reichardt to the scene, and when she discovered the shape of this prodigious fish, her surprise seemed scarcely less than my own. How to land him was our first consideration; and after some debate on the ways and means, I got a rope and leaped into the water with it, fastened a noose round his gills, and then swimming back and climbing the rock; we jointly tried to pull him up on to the shore. We hauled and tugged with all our force for a considerable time, but to very little effect; he was too heavy to pull up perpendicularly. At last we managed to drag him to a low piece of rock, and there I divided him into several pieces, which Mrs Reichardt carried away to dry and preserve in some way that she said would make the fish capital eating all the year round. It was very palatable when dressed by her, and as she changed the manner of cooking several times, I never got tired of it. By its flavour, as far as I could judge from subsequent knowledge, the creature was something of the sturgeon kind of fish, but its proper name I never could learn; nor was I ever able to catch another, therefore, I must presume that it was a stranger in those seas. Nevertheless, he proved most acceptable to us both, for we should have fared but ill for some time, had it not been for his providential capture. It was one afternoon, when we had been enjoying a capital meal at the expense of our great friend, that I led the subject to Mrs Reichardt's adventures, subsequently to where she broke off in the story of herself and the poor German boy; and though not without considerable reluctance, I induced her to proceed with her narrative. Chapter XXXIII "Our good minister Dr Brightwell," she commenced, "was a man of considerable scholastic attainments, and he delighted in making a display of them. At one time, he had been master of an extensive grammar school, and now he employed a good deal of his leisure in teaching those boys and girls of the town, who indicated the possession of anything like talent. The overseers used to talk jestingly to my father of the Doctor teaching plough-boys Greek and Latin; and wenches, whose chief employment was stone-picking in the fields, geography and the use of the globes. Even the churchwardens shook their heads, and privately thought the Rector a little out of his seven senses for wasting his learning upon such unprofitable scholars. Nevertheless, he continued his self-imposed task, without meeting any reward beyond the satisfaction of his own conscience. It was not till he added to his pupils myself and young Reichardt, that he felt he was doing his duty with some prospect of advantage. "The spirit of emulation roused both of us to make extraordinary efforts to second our worthy master's endeavours: and this did not, as is usually the case, proceed from rivalry--it arose entirely from a desire of the one to stand well in the estimation of the other. In this way we learned the French and Latin languages, geography, and the usual branches of a superior education: but our bias was more particularly for religious knowledge, and our preceptor encouraged this, till we were almost as good theologians as himself. "While this information was being carefully arranged and digested, there sprung up in our hearts so deep a devotion for each other, that we were miserable when absent and enjoyed no gratification so much as being in each other's society. We knew not then the full power and meaning of this preference, but, as we changed from boy and girl-hood to adult life, our feelings developed themselves into that attachment between the sexes, which from time immemorial has received the name of love." "I think I know what that means, now," said I, as my day-dream, which was so rudely disturbed by my fall into the sea occurred to me. "It would be strange if you did," she replied, "considering that it is quite impossible you should have become acquainted with it." "Yes, I am certain I understand it very well," I rejoined, more confidently, and then added, not without some embarrassment, "If I were placed in the position of Heinrich Reichardt, I am quite sure I should feel towards any young female, who was so kind to me, the deepest regard and affection. I should like to be constantly near her, and should always desire that she should like me better than anyone else." "That is quite as good an explanation of the matter, as I could expect from you," she observed, smiling. "But to return to my story. Our mutual attachment attracted general attention, and was the subject of much observation. But we had no enemies: and when we were met strolling together in the shady lanes, gathering wild flowers, or wandering through the woods in search of wild strawberries, no one thought it necessary to make any remark if we had our arms round each other's waist. My father, if he heard anything about it, did not interfere. Young Reichardt had made himself so useful to him, and shewed himself so remarkably clever in everything he undertook, that the old man loved him as his own son. "It was a settled thing between us, that we were to become man and wife, as soon as we should be permitted. And many were our plans and schemes for the future. Heinrich considered himself to be in the position of Jacob, who served such a long and patient apprenticeship for Rachel; and though he confessed he should not like to wait so long for his wife as the patriarch had been made to do, he acknowledged he would rather serve my father to the full period, than give up all hope of possessing me. "This happy state of things was, however, suddenly put an end to, by Dr Brightwell one day sending for my father. It was a long time before he came back, and when he did, he looked unusually grave and reserved. In an hour or so he communicated to me the result of his long interview with the Rector. The Doctor had resolved to send young Reichardt to a distant place, where many learned men lived together in colleges, for the purpose of further advancing his education, and fitting him for a religious teacher, to which vocation he had long expressed a desire to devote himself. The idea of separation seemed very terrible, but I at last got reconciled to it, in the belief that it would be greatly for Heinrich's advantage, and we parted at last with many tears, many protestations, some fears, but a great many more hopes. "For some days after he had left me, everything seemed so strange, every one seemed so dull, every place seemed so desolate, that I felt as if I had been transported into some dismal scene, where I knew no one, and where there was no one likely to care about me in the slightest degree. My father went about his avocations in a different spirit to what he had so long been used to exhibit; it was evident he missed Heinrich as much as I did, and the villagers stared whenever I passed them--as though my ever going about without Heinrich, was something which they had never anticipated. "In course of time, however, to all appearance, everything and every one went on in their daily course, as though no Heinrich had ever been heard of. My father would sometimes, when overpressed by business, refer to the able assistant he had lost, and now and then I heard a conjecture hazarded by some one or other of his most confidential friends, as to what young Reichardt was doing with himself. My conjectures, and my references to him, were far from being so occasional; there was scarce an hour of the day I did not think of him; but, believing that I should please him most by endeavouring to improve as much as possible during his absence, I did not give myself up to idle reflections respecting the past, or anticipations, equally idle, respecting the future. "My great delight was in hearing from him. At first, his letters expressed only his feelings for me; then he dwelt more largely on his own exertions for preparing himself for the profession he desired to adopt; and after a time, his correspondence was almost entirely composed of expositions of his views of a religious life, and dissertations on various points of doctrine. He evidently was growing more enthusiastic in religion, and less regardful of our attachment. "Yet I entertained no apprehensions or misgivings. I did not think it necessary to consider myself slighted because the thoughts of my future husband were evidently raised more and more above me; the knowledge of this only made me more anxious to raise myself more and more towards the elevation to which his thoughts were so intently directed. "Things went on in this way for two or three years. I never saw him all this time; I heard from him but seldom. He excused his limited correspondence on the plea that his studies left him no time for writing. I never blamed him for this apparent neglect--indeed I rather encouraged it, for my exhortations were always that he should address his time and energies towards the attainment of the object I knew him to have so much at heart--his becoming a minister of our Lord's Gospel. "One day my father came home from the rectory with a troubled countenance. Dr Brightwell was very indignant because Heinrich had joined a religious community that dissented from the Articles of the Church of England. The Doctor had offered to get him employment in the Church, if he would give up his new connections: but the more earnest character of his new faith exerted so much influence over his enthusiastic nature, that he willingly abandoned his bright prospects to become a more humble labourer in a less productive vineyard. "My father, as the clerk of the parish, seemed to think himself bound to share in the indignation of his pastor for this desertion, and Heinrich was severely condemned by him for displaying such ingratitude to his benefactor: I was commanded to think no more of him. "This, however, was not so easy a matter, although our correspondence appeared to have entirely ceased. I knew not where to address a letter to him and was quite unaware of what his future career was now to be." Chapter XXXIV "Time passed on. With all, except myself, Heinrich Reichardt appeared to be forgotten; in the opinion of all, except myself, he had forgotten our house, and all the friends he had once made there. Our good Rector had been removed by death from the post he had so ably filled; and my father being incapacitated by age and infirmity from attending his duties in the church, had his place filled by another. He had saved sufficient to live upon, and had built himself a small cottage at the end of the village, where we lived together in perfect peace, if not in perfect happiness. "I had long grown up to womanhood, and having some abilities, had been employed as one of the teachers of the girls' school, of which I had raised myself to be mistress. I conducted myself so as to win the respect of the chief parochial officers, from more than one of whom I received proposals of marriage: but I never could reconcile myself to the idea of becoming the wife of any man but the long-absent Heinrich, and the new clerk and the overseer were fain to be content with my grateful rejection of their proposals. "I determined to wait patiently till I could learn from Heinrich's own lips that he had abandoned his early friend. I could never get myself to believe in the possibility of his unfaithfulness; and the remembrances of our mutual studies in the Book of Truth seemed always to suggest the impossibility of his acting so completely at variance with the impressions he had thence received. "I was aware that if I had mentioned my hopes of his one day coming to claim me, I should be laughed at by everyone who knew anything of our story--so I said nothing; but continued the more devotedly in my heart to cherish that faith which had so long afforded me support against the overwhelming evidence of prolonged silence and neglect. "There was a congregation of Dissenters in the town, and I had been once or twice prevailed on to join their devotions. One day I heard that proceedings of extraordinary interest would take place at the meeting-house. A minister of great reputation had accepted the situation of Missionary to preach the Gospel to the heathen, and he was visiting the different congregations that lay in his route to the seaport whence he was to embark to the Sandwich Islands. He was expected to address a discourse to the Dissenters of our parish, and I was induced to go and hear him. "The meeting-house was very much crowded, but I contrived to get a seat within a short distance of the speakers, and waited with much interest to behold the man, who, like some of the first preachers, had chosen the perilous task of endeavouring to convert a nation of savage idolaters to the faith of the true Christ. "After a short delay he appeared on a raised platform, and was introduced to this congregation by their minister. I heard nothing of this introduction, though it seemed a long one; I saw nothing of the speaker, though his was a figure which always attracted an attentive audience. I saw only the stranger. In those pale, grave, and serious features then presented to me, I recognised Heinrich Reichardt." "He had come back to you at last," I exclaimed; "I thought he would. After all you had done for the poor German boy, it was impossible that he should grow up to manhood and forget you." "You shall hear," she replied. "For some time my heart beat wildly, and I thought I should be obliged to leave the place, my sensations became so overpowering; but the fear of disturbing the congregation, and of attracting attention towards myself, had such influence over me, that I managed to retain sufficient control over my feelings to remain quiet. Nevertheless, my eyes were upon Heinrich, and my whole heart and soul were exclusively engrossed by him while he continued before me. "Presently he began to speak. As I have just said, I paid no attention to the preliminary proceedings. I know nothing of the manner in which he was introduced to his audience; but when he became the speaker, every word fell upon my ear with a distinctness that seemed quite marvellous to me. "And how could it be otherwise? His tall figure, his melancholy yet expressive features, his earnest manner, and clear and sonorous voice, invested him with all the power and dignity of an Apostle, and when with these attributes were joined those associations of the past with which he was so intimately connected, it is impossible to exaggerate the influence he exercised over me. "He began with a fervent blessing on all who had sought the sanctity of that roof, and his hearers, impressed with the thrilling earnestness of his delivery, became at once hushed into a kind of awe-struck attention. They knelt down, and bowed their heads in prayer. "I appeared to have no power to follow the general example, but remained the only sitter in the entire congregation with my eyes, nay, all my senses, fixed, rivetted upon the preacher. This, of course, attracted his attention. I saw him look towards me with surprise, then he started, his voice hesitated for a moment, but he almost immediately continued his benediction, and, as it seemed to me, with a voice tremulous with emotion. "Then followed a discourse on the object of the preacher in presenting himself there. He described the wonderful goodness of the Creator in continually raising up the most humble instruments of his will to perform the most important offices; in illustration of which he referred to the numerous instances in the Old and New Testaments, where God's preference in this way is so clearly manifested. "He then stated that 'a case had arisen for Divine interposition, equal in necessity to any which had occurred since the first commencement of Christianity.' He explained that 'there were nations still existing in a distant portion of the globe in a state of the wildest barbarism. Ignorant savages were they, with many cruel and idolatrous customs, who were cannibals and murderers, and given up to the worst vices of the heathen. Their abject and pitiable state, he told us, the Lord God had witnessed with Divine commiseration, and had determined that the light of Christian love should shine upon their darkness, and that Almighty wisdom should dissipate their besotted ignorance. "'But who' he asked, 'was to be the ambassador from so stupendous a Power to these barbarous states? Who would venture to be a messenger of peace and comfort to a cruel and savage nation? Was there no man,' he again asked, 'great enough and bold enough to undertake a mission of such vast importance, attended by such terrible risks? "'The Almighty Ruler seeks not for his ministers among the great and bold,' he added, 'as it is written, He hath put down the mighty from their seats, and hath exalted the humble and meek. And it will be peculiarly so on this occasion, for the exaltation is from the humblest origin; so humble it is scarcely possible to imagine so miserable a beginning, in the end attaining distinction so honorable. "'Imagine, if you can, my brethren,' he said, 'in the building set apart in your town for the reception of your destitute poor, a child parentless, friendless, and moneyless, condemned, as it seemed, to perpetual raggedness and intolerable suffering. A ministering angel, under the direction of the Supreme Goodness, took that child by the hand and led it out of the pauper walls that enclosed it, and under its auspices the child grew and flourished, and learned all that was excellent in faith and admirable in practice. "'It was ordained that he should lose sight of his angelic teacher. A dire necessity compelled him to withdraw from that pure and gracious influence. He had to learn in a different school, and prepare himself for heavier tasks. Manhood, with all its severe responsibilities, came upon him. He sought first to render himself competent for some holy undertaking, before he could consider himself worthy again to claim that notice which had made him what he was. Earnestly he strove for the Divine assistance and encouragement; and as his qualifications increased, his estimate of the worthiness necessary for the object he had in view, became more and more exalted. "'At last,' he continued, 'it became known to him that a Missionary was required to explain to the savage people to whom I have already alluded, the principles of Christianity. He was appointed to this sacred trust: and he then determined, before he left this country for the distant one of his ministry, to present himself before that beneficent being who had poured out before him so abundant a measure of Christian virtue; that they might be joined together in the same great vocation, and support each other in the same important trust.' "I heard enough," continued Mrs Reichardt. "All was explained, and I was fully satisfied. The discourse proceeded to identify the speaker with the poor boy who had been preserved for such onerous duties. Then came an appeal to the congregation for their prayers, and such assistance as they could afford, to advance so holy a work as the conversion of the heathen. "I was in such a tumult of pleasant feelings that I retained but a confused recollection of the subsequent events. I only remember that as I was walking home from the meeting, I heard footsteps quickly following; in a few minutes more the voice that had so lately filled my heart to overflowing with happiness, again addressed me. I was too much excited to remain unconcerned on suddenly discovering that Heinrich was so near, and I fell fainting into his arms. "I was carried into a neighbouring cottage, but in a short time was enabled to proceed home. In a week afterwards we were married: a few days more sufficed for the preparations that were required for my destination, and then we proceeded to the port, and embarked on board the ship that was to take us over many thousand miles of sea, to the wild, unknown country that was to be the scene of our mission." Chapter XXXV Mrs Reichardt was obliged to break off her narrative, where it concluded at the end of the last chapter. As I have said, her household duties, being very numerous, and requiring a great deal of attention, took up nearly the whole of her time. The garden now presented a most agreeable appearance, possessing several different kinds of vegetables, and various plants that had been raised from seed. We had succeeded in raising several young orange trees from the pips she had brought in her basket; and they promised to supply us with plenty of their luscious fruit. Even the peas we thought so dry and useless had germinated, and provided us with a welcome addition to our table. I shall never forget the first day she added to our scanty meal of dried fish a dish of smoking potatoes fresh out of the moist earth. After enjoying sufficiently my wonder at their appearance, and delight at their agreeable taste, she informed me of their first introduction into Europe, and their gradual diffusion over the more civilised portions of the globe. I speak of Europe now, because I had learned from my companion, not only a good deal of geography, but had obtained some insight into several other branches of knowledge. In particular, she had told me much interesting information about England, much more than I had learned from Jackson; dwelling upon its leading features, and the most remarkable portions of its history; and I must acknowledge that I felt a secret pride in belonging to so great a country. I considered that I belonged to it, for my father and mother were English, and though I might be called The Little Savage, and be fixed to an obscure island in the great ocean, I felt that my real home was in this great country my mother talked about so glowingly, and that my chief object ought to be to return into the hands of my grandfather the belt that had in so singular a manner come into my possession. I often thought of this great England whose glory had been so widely spread and so durably established, and longed for some means of leaving our present abode, and going in search of its time-honoured shores. But I asked myself how was this desirable object to be effected? We had no means of transporting ourselves from the prison into which we had been accidentally cast. We had nothing resembling a boat on the island, and we had no tools for making one; and even had we been put in possession of such a treasure, we had no means of launching it. The rocky character of the coast made the placing of a boat on the water almost impossible. The expectation of a vessel appearing off the island appeared quite as unreasonable. We had seen no ships for a long time, and those we had observed were a great deal too far off to heed our signals. We had no help for it, but to trust to Providence and bear our present evil patiently. Nevertheless, I took my glass and swept the sea far and wide in search of a ship, but failed to discover anything but a spermaceti whale blowing in the distance, or a shoal of porpoises tumbling over each other nearer the shore, or a colony of seals basking in the sun on the rocks nearest the sea. My disappointment was shared by Nero, who seemed to regard my vexation with a sympathising glance, and even the gannets turned their dull stupid gaze upon me, with an expression as if they deeply commiserated my distress. I had for a long time employed myself in making a shelving descent to the sea, on the most secure part of the rock, intending that it should be a landing place for a boat, in case any ship should come near enough to send one to our rescue. It was a work of great labour, and hatchet and spade equally suffered in my endeavours to effect my object; but at last I contrived to take advantage of a natural fracture in the rock, and a subsequent fall of the cliff, to make a rude kind of inclined plane, rather too steep, and too rough for bad climbers, but extremely convenient for my mother and me, whenever we should be prepared to embark for our distant home. My thoughts were now often directed to the possibility of making on the island some kind of boat that would hold ourselves and sufficient provisions for a voyage to the nearest of the larger islands. I spoke to Mrs Reichardt on the subject, but she dwelt upon the impossibility without either proper tools, or the slightest knowledge of boat-building, of producing a vessel to which we could trust ourselves with any confidence, neither of us knowing anything about its management in the open sea; and then she spoke of the dangers a small boat would meet with, if the water should be rough, or if we should not be able to make the island in any reasonable time. Yet I was not daunted by difficulties, nor dissuaded by discouraging representations. I thought at first of fastening all the loose timber together that had drifted against the rocks, as much in the shape of a boat as I could get it, but on looking over my stock of nails, I found they fell very far short of the proper quantity; consequently that mode of effecting my purpose was abandoned. I then thought of felling a tree and hollowing it out by charring the timber. As yet I had discovered nothing on the island but shrubs. I was quite certain that no tree grew near enough to the sea to be available, and if I should succeed in cutting down a large one and fashioning it as I desired, I had no means of transport. I might possibly make a boat capable of carrying all I wanted to put into it, but as I could neither move the water up to the boat, nor the boat down to the water, for all the service I wanted of it, even if the island contained a tree large enough, I might just as well leave it untouched. Still I would not altogether abandon my favourite project. I thought of the willows that grew on the island, and fancied I could make a framework by twisting them strongly together, and stretching seal skins over them. I laboured at this for several weeks,--exercising all my ingenuity and no slight stock of patience, to create an object with which I was but imperfectly acquainted. I did succeed at last in putting together something in a remote degree resembling the boat that brought part of the whaler's crew to the island and had taken them away, but it was not a quarter the size, and was so light that I could carry it without much difficulty to the landing I had constructed on the cliff. When I came to try its capabilities, I found it terribly lop-sided--it soon began to leak, and in fact it exhibited so many faults, that I was forced to drag it again on shore, and take it to pieces. I called in Mrs Reichardt to my assistance, and though at first she seemed averse to the experiment, she gave me a great deal of information respecting the structure of small boats, and the method of waterproofing leather and other fabrics. I attended carefully to all she said, and commenced re-building with more pretensions to art. I now made a strong frame-work, tolerably sharp at each end, and as nearly as possible resembling a keel at the bottom. I covered this on both sides with pieces of strong cloth saturated with grease from the carcases of birds, and then covered the whole with well-dried seal skins, which I had made impervious to wet. The inside of the boat nearest the water I neatly covered with pieces of dry bark, over which I fixed some boards, which had floated to the island from wrecked ships. Finally I put in some benches to sit on, and then fancied I had done everything that was necessary. I soon got her into the fishing-pool, and was delighted to find that she floated capitally--but I still had a great deal to do. I had made neither oars to propel her through the water, nor sail to carry her through the waves, when rowing was impossible. I remembered the whaler's spare oars and mizen, but they were too large; nevertheless, they served me as models to work upon, and in time I made a rough pair of paddles or oars, which, though rudely fashioned, I hoped would answer the purpose pretty well. The next difficulty was how to use the oars, and I made many awkward attempts before I ascertained the proper method of proceeding. Again my companion, on whom nothing which had once passed before her eyes had passed in vain, shewed me how the boat should be managed. In a short time I could row about the pool with sufficient dexterity to turn the boat in any direction I required, and I then took Nero as a passenger, and he seemed to enjoy the new gratification with a praiseworthy decorum; till, when I was trying to turn the boat round, the movement caused him to attempt to shift his quarters, which he did with so little attention to the build of our vessel, that in one moment she was capsized, and in the next we were swimming about in the pool with our vessel bottom upwards. As she was so light, I soon righted her, and found that she had received no injury, and appeared to be perfectly water-tight. Chapter XXXVI I could not prevail upon Mrs Reichardt to embark in my craft, the fate of my first passenger which she had witnessed from the shore, had deterred her from attempting a voyage under such unpromising circumstances. As soon as I had dried my clothes, I was for making another experiment, and one too of a more hazardous nature. I would not be parted from Nero, but I made him lie at the bottom of the boat, where I could have him under strict control. With him I also took my little flock of gannets, who perched themselves round me, gazing about them with an air of such singular stupidity as they were being propelled through the water, that I could not help bursting out laughing. "Indeed," said Mrs Reichardt, "such a boat's crew and such a boat has never been seen in those seas before. A young savage as captain, a tame seal as boatswain, and a flock of gannets as sailors, certainly made up as curious a set of adventurers as ever floated upon the wide ocean." I was not the least remarkable of the strange group, for I had nothing on but a pair of duck trousers, patched in several places; and my hair, which had grown very long, hung in black wavy masses to my shoulders. My skin was tanned by the sun to a light brown, very different from the complexion of Mrs Reichardt, which had ever been remarkable for its paleness. Indeed she told me I should find some difficulty in establishing my claim to the title of European, but none at all to that of Little Savage, which she often playfully called me. Nevertheless, in this trim, and with these companions, I passed out of the fishing-pool into the sea, with the intention of rowing round the island. Mrs Reichardt waved her hand as I departed on my voyage, having exhorted me to be very careful, as long as I was in hearing; she then turned away, as I thought, to return to the hut. The day was remarkably fine. There was not so much as a cloud on the horizon, and scarcely a ripple on the water: therefore, everything seemed to favour my project, for if there had been anything of a breeze, the beating of the waves against the rock would have been a great obstacle to my pursuing my voyage with either comfort or safety. The water too was so clear, that although it was of great depth, I could distinguish the shells that lay on the sand, and observe various kinds of fish, some of most curious shape, that rushed rapidly beneath the boat as it was urged along. I was delighted with the motion, and with the agreeable appearance of the different novelties that met my gaze. The light boat glided almost imperceptibly through the water at every stroke of the oar. Nero lay as still as if his former lesson had taught him the necessity of remaining motionless; and the gannets now and then expressed their satisfaction by a shrill cry or a rapid fluttering of their wings. In this way, we passed on without any adventure, till I found it necessary for me to row some distance out to sea, to round a projecting rock that stood like a mighty wall before me. I pulled accordingly, and then had a better opportunity of seeing the island than I had ever obtained. I recognised all the favourite places, the ravine, the wood, the hut covered with beautiful creepers, and the garden, full of flowers, looked very agreeable to the eye: but every part seemed to look pleasant, except the great savage rocks which enclosed the island on every side: but even these I thought had an air of grandeur that gave additional effect to the scene. Much to my surprise, I recognised Mrs Reichardt walking rapidly towards a part of the shore, near which I should be obliged to pass. From this I saw that she was intent on watching me from point to point, to know the worst, if any accident should befall me, and be at hand should there be a necessity for rendering assistance. I shouted to her, and she waved her hand in reply. On rounding the headland, my astonishment was extreme on finding my little bark in the midst of a shoal of enormous sharks. If I came in contact with one of them I was lost, for the frail boat would certainly be upset and as Jackson had assured me, if ever I allowed these monsters to come near enough, one snap of their jaws, and there would be an end of the Little Savage. I thought of the warning of Mrs Reichardt, and was inclined to think I had better have taken her advice, and remained in the fishing-pool; nevertheless, I went on as quietly and deliberately as possible, exercising all my skill to keep clear of my unexpected enemies. It was not till I had got into the middle of the shoal that the sharks seemed to be aware there was anything unusual in their neighbourhood, but as soon as they were fully aware of the presence of an intruder, they exhibited the most extraordinary excitement, rushing together in groups, with such rapid motion, that the water became so agitated, I was obliged to exercise all my skill to keep the boat steady on her course. They dived, and rushed to and fro, and jostled each other, as I thought, in anything but an amicable spirit; still, however, keeping at a respectful distance from the boat, for which I was extremely thankful. I urged her on with all my strength, for the purpose of getting away from such unpleasant neighbours; but they were not to be so easily disposed of. They came swimming after the boat, then when within a few yards dived, and in a moment they were before it, as if to bar any further progress. I however pushed on, and they disappeared, but immediately afterwards rose on all sides of me. They were evidently getting more confidence; a fact I ascertained with no slight apprehension, for they began to approach nearer, and their gambols threatened every minute to overwhelm my poor craft, that, light as a cork, bounced up and down the agitated waves, as if quite as much alarmed for our safety as ourselves. The captain was not the only one who began to fear evil; the gannets were very restless, and it was only by strong admonitions I could prevail on Nero to retain his recumbent attitude at my feet; their instinct warned them of approaching danger, and I felt the comfortable assurance that my own rashness had brought me into my present critical position, and that if the menaced destruction did arrive, there was no sort of assistance at hand on which I could rely. Every moment the sharks became more violent in their demonstrations, and more bold in their approaches, and I could scarcely keep the boat going, or prevent the water rushing over her sides. The gannets, having shewn themselves for some minutes uneasy, had at last flown away to the neighbouring rock, and Nero began to growl and snap, as though meditating a forcible release from his prostrate position, to see what mischief was brewing. As I was coaxing him to be quiet, I felt a tremendous blow given to the boat, evidently from beneath, and she rose into the air several yards, scattering Nero and myself, and the oars, in different directions. The noise we made in falling appeared for the instant to have scattered the creatures, for I had struck out for the rock and nearly reached it before a shark made its appearance. Just then I saw a large monster rushing towards me. I thought all was over. He turned to open his great jaws, and in another instant I should have been devoured. At that critical period I saw a second object dart in between me and the shark, and attack the latter fiercely. It was Nero, and it was the last I ever saw of my faithful friend. His timely interposition enabled me to reach a ledge in the cliff, where I was in perfect safety, hanging by some strong seaweed, although my feet nearly touched the water, and I could retain my position only with the greatest difficulty. The whole shoal were presently around me. They a first paid their attentions to the boat and the oars, which they buffeted about till they were driven close to the rock, at a little distance from the place where I had found temporary safety. They left these things unharmed as soon as they caught sight of me, and then their eagerness and violence returned with tenfold fury. They darted towards me in a body, and I was obliged to lift my legs, or I should have had them snapped off by one or other of the twenty gaping jaws that were thrust over each other, in their eagerness to make a mouthful of my limbs. This game was carried on for some minutes of horrible anxiety to me. I fancied that my struggles had loosened the seaweed, and that in a few minutes it must give way, and I should then be fought for and torn to pieces by the ravenous crew beneath. I shouted with all the strength of my lungs to scare them away; but as if they were as well aware that I could not escape them as I was myself, they merely left off their violent efforts to reach my projecting legs, and forming a semi-circle round me, watched with upturned eyes, that seemed to possess a fiendish expression that fascinated and bewildered me, the snapping of the frail hold that supported me upon the rock. In my despair I prayed heartily, but it was rather to commend my soul to my Maker, than with any prospect of being rescued from so imminent and horrible a peril. The eyes of the ravenous monsters below seemed to mock my devotion. I felt the roots of the seaweed giving way: the slightest struggle on my part would I knew only hasten my dissolution, and I resigned myself to my fate. In this awful moment I heard a voice calling out my name. It was Mrs Reichardt on the cliff high above me. I answered with all the eagerness of despair. Then there came a heavy splash into the water, and I heard her implore me to endeavour to make for a small shrub that grew in a hollow of the rock, at a very short distance from the tuft of seaweed that had become so serviceable. I looked down. The sharks had all disappeared; I knew, however, that they would shortly return, and lost not a moment in making an effort to better my position in the manner I had been directed. Mrs Reichardt had thrown a heavy stone into the water among the sharks, the loud splash of which had driven them away. Before they again made their appearance, I had caught a firm hold of the twig, and flung myself up into a position of perfect safety. "Thank God he's safe!" I heard Mrs Reichardt exclaim. The sharks did return, but when they found their anticipated prey had escaped, they swam lazily out to sea. "Are you much hurt, Frank Henniker?" she presently cried out to me. "I have not a scratch," I replied. "Then thank God for your deliverance," she added. I did thank God, and Mrs Reichardt joined with me in prayer, and a more fervent thanksgiving than was ours, it is scarcely possible to imagine. Chapter XXXVII I had several times pressed Mrs Reichardt for the conclusion of her story, but she had always seemed reluctant to resume the subject. It was evidently full of painful incidents, and she shrunk from dwelling upon them. At last, one evening we were sitting together, she working with her needle and I employed upon a net she had taught me how to manufacture, and I again led the conversation to the narrative my companion had left unfinished. She sighed heavily and looked distressed. "It is but natural you should expect this of me, my son," she said; "but you little know the suffering caused by my recalling the melancholy events that I have to detail. However, I have led you to expect the entire relation, and, therefore, I will endeavour to realise your anticipations." I assured her I was ready to wait, whenever it might be agreeable for her to narrate the termination of her interesting history. "It will never be agreeable to me," she replied mournfully; "indeed I would forget it, if I could; but that is impossible. The struggle may as well be made now, as at any time. I will therefore commence by informing you, that during our long voyage to the Sandwich Islands, I found ample opportunity for studying the disposition of my husband. He was much changed since he first left me, but his was still the same grateful nature, full of truth and purity, that had won me towards him when a child. A holy enthusiasm seemed now to exalt him above ordinary humanity. I could scarcely ever get him to talk upon any but religious subjects, and those he treated in so earnest and exalted a manner, that it was impossible to avoid being carried away with his eloquence. "He seemed to feel the greatness of his destination, as though it had raised him to an equality with the adventurous Saints, who established the banner of Christ among the Pagan nations of Europe. He was fond of dilating upon the importance of his mission, and of dwelling on the favour that had been vouchsafed him, in causing him to be selected for so high and responsible a duty. "It was evident that he would rather have been sent to associate with the barbarous people whom he expected to make his converts, than have been raised to the richest Bishopric in England. And yet, with this exultation, there was a spirit of deep melancholy pervading his countenance, as well as his discourses, that seemed to imply a sense of danger. The nimbus of the saint in his eyes was associated with the crown of martyrdom. He seemed to look forward to a fatal termination of his ministry, as the most and proper conclusion of his labours. "His conversation often filled me with dread. His intimations of danger seemed at first very shocking, but, at last, I got more familiar with these terrible suggestions, and regarded them as the distempered fancies of an overworked mind. "In this way our long voyage passed, and we arrived at last at our place of destination. When we had disembarked, the scene that presented itself to me was so strange, that I could almost believe I had passed into a new world. The most luxurious vegetation, of a character I had never seen before--the curious buildings--the singular forms of the natives, and their peculiar costume--excited my wonder to an intense degree. "My husband applied himself diligently to learn the language of the people, whilst I as intently studied their habits and customs. We both made rapid progress. "As soon as I could make myself understood, I endeavoured to make friends with the women, particularly with the wives of the great men, and although I was at first the object of more curiosity than regard, I persisted in my endeavours, and succeeded in establishing with many a good understanding. "I found them ignorant of everything that in civilised countries is considered knowledge--their minds being enveloped in the most deplorable darkness--the only semblance of religion in use amongst them, being a brutal and absurd idolatry. "I often tried to lead them to the consideration of more humanising truths, for the purpose of preparing the way for the inculcation of the great mysteries of our holy religion: but the greater portion of my hearers were incompetent to understand what I seemed so desirous of teaching, and my making them comprehend the principles of Christianity appeared to be a hopeless task. "Yet I continued my pious labours, without allowing my exertions to flag--making myself useful to them and their families in every way I could--attending them when sick--giving them presents when well--and showing them every kindness likely to make a favourable impression on their savage natures. In this way I proceeded doing good, till I found an opportunity of being of service to a young girl, about twelve years of age, who was a younger sister of one of the wives of a great chief. She had sprained her ankle and was in great pain, when I applied the proper remedies and gave her speedy relief. Hooloo, for that was her name, from that moment became warmly attached to me, and finding her of an affectionate and ingenuous disposition, I became extremely desirous of improving upon the good impression I had made. "At the same time my husband sought, by his knowledge of the mechanical arts, and some acquaintance with medicine, to recommend himself to the men. He also met with much difficulty at first, in making his information properly appreciated. He sought to increase their comforts--to introduce agricultural implements of a more useful description, and to lead them generally towards the conveniences and decencies of civilisation. He built himself a house, and planted a garden, and cultivated some land, in which he shewed the superior advantages of what he knew, to what they practised. They seemed to marvel much, but continued to go on in their own way. "He also went amongst them as a physician, and having acquired considerable knowledge of medicine and simple surgery, he was enabled to work some cures in fevers and spear wounds, that in course of time made for him so great a reputation, that many of the leading chiefs sent for him when anything ailed them or their families, and they were so well satisfied with what he did for them, that he began to be looked upon as one who was to be treated with particular respect and honour, by all classes of the natives, from the highest to the lowest. "On one occasion the king required his services. He was suffering from a sort of cholic, for which the native doctors could give him no relief. My husband administered some medicines, and stayed with his Majesty until they had the desired effect, and the result being a complete recovery, seemed so astonishing to all the members of his Sandwich Majesty's court, that the doctor was required to administer the same medicine to every one, from the queen to the humblest of her attendants, though all were apparently in good health. He managed to satisfy them with a small portion only of the mixture, which he was quite certain could do them no harm: and they professed to be wonderfully the better for it." Chapter XXXVIII "His reputation had now grown so great, that whatever he required was readily granted. He first desired to have some children sent him; to learn those things which had enabled him to do so much good, and this having been readily sanctioned, we opened a school for girls and boys, in which we taught the first elements of a civilised education. "Finding we made fair progress in this way, we commenced developing our real object, the inculcation of Christian sentiments. This meeting with no opposition, and Reichardt having established a powerful influence over the entire community, he next proceeded with the parents, and earnestly strove to induce them to embrace the profession of Christianity. "His labours were not entirely unproductive. There began to prevail amongst the islanders, a disposition to hear the wondrous discourses of this stranger, and he was employed, day after day, in explaining to large and attentive audiences, the history of the Christian world, and the observances and doctrine of that faith which had been cemented by the blood of the Redeemer. The new and startling subjects of his discourse, as well as the impressive character of his eloquence, frequently deeply moved his hearers; and at his revelations they would often burst forth into piercing shouts and loud expressions of amazement. "In truth it was a moving scene. The noble figure of the Missionary, with his fine features lighted up with the fire of holy enthusiasm, surrounded by a crowd of dusky savages, armed with spears and war clubs, and partly clothed with feathers, in their features shewing traces of unusual excitement, and every now and then joining in a wild chorus, expressive of their wonder, could not have been witnessed by any Christian, without emotion. "But when the ceremony of Baptism was first performed before them, their amazement was increased a thousandfold. The first member of our flock was Hooloo, whom I had instructed so far, in the principles of our faith, and I had acquired such an influence over her mind, that she readily consented to abandon her idolatrous customs and become a Christian. "After a suitable address to the natives, who had assembled in some thousands to witness the spectacle, in which he explained to them the motive and object of baptism, my husband assisted the girl down a sloping green bank which led to a beautiful stream, and walked with her into the water till he was up to his waist; then, after offering up a long and fervent prayer that this first victory over the false worship of the Devil, might be the forerunner of the entire extirpation of idolatry from the land, he, plunging her into the water, baptised her in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. "All the people were awed to silence while the ceremony proceeded, but when it was over they burst forth into a loud cry, and came down to meet the new Christian and my husband as they came out of the water, and waved over them boughs of trees, and danced and shouted as though in an ecstasy. "We however had not proceeded to this extent, without exciting considerable opposition; our disrespect towards their idols had given great offence to those who were identified with the superstitions of the people, and flourished according as these were supported. Complaints were made too of our teaching a new religion, in opposition to the gods they and their fathers had worshipped, and a powerful party was got together for the purpose of pursuing us to destruction. "My husband was summoned before a council of the great chiefs, to hear the accusations that had been brought against him: and the old idolaters got up and abused him, and threatened him with the punishment of their monstrous gods, for telling lies to the people, and deceiving them with forged tales and strange customs. "They sought all they could, to move the judges against him, by painting the terrible fate that would befall them if they failed to kill the white stranger, who had insulted their gods; and they predicted hosts of calamities that were to happen, in consequence of their having allowed the teller of lies to work so much mischief against them. "My husband then being called upon for his defence, first declared to the judges the attributes of the Deity he worshipped: that he created the vast heavens, the stars, the mountains, the rivers, and the sea; his voice spoke in the thunder, and his eye flashed in the lightning. He then dwelt on his goodness to man, especially to the Sandwich Islanders, whom he had created for the purpose of enjoying the fine country around them and of beholding the beauty of the heavens where he dwelt. Then he referred to the gods they had worshipped, and asked how they were made, and what such senseless things could do for them; commenting on their inability to serve them, in any way, or do them any harm; and went on to speak of the benefits he had been able to confer upon them, through the influence of the all powerful God he worshipped; and asked them if he had ever done them anything but good. Lastly, he promised them innumerable benefits, if they would leave their useless gods, and turn to the only God who had the power to serve them. "It is impossible for me to do justice to the animated manner in which he delivered this discourse. It produced great effect upon the majority of his hearers; but there was a powerful minority it still more strongly influenced against him; and they continued to interrupt him with terrible outcries. "Most of the leading chiefs were against his suffering any harm. They bore in mind the advantages he had conferred, by his skill in medicine, and superior wisdom in various other things, which the people would lose were he put to death. They also remembered the hope he held out of future benefits, which of course they could not expect, if they offered him any violence. "The result was, that my husband was suffered to go harmless from the meeting, to the great disappointment of his enemies, who could scarcely be kept from laying violent hands upon him. The danger he had escaped, unfortunately, did not render him more prudent. Far from it. He believed that he was a chosen instrument of the Most High, to win these savages from the depths of idolatry and Paganism; and continued, on every occasion that presented itself, to endeavour to win souls to God. "The school increased, several of the parents suffered themselves to be baptised, and there was a regular observance of the Lord's Day amongst those who belonged to our little flock. Even many of the islanders, although they did not become Christians, attended our religious services, and spoke well of us. "We brought up the young people to be able to teach their brethren and sisters; and hoped to be able to establish missions in other parts of the island, to which we sometimes made excursions; preaching the inestimable blessings of the gospel to the islanders, and exhorting them to abandon their dark customs and heathen follies. I was not far behind my husband in this good work, and acquired as much influence among the women as he exercised over the men: indeed we were generally looked upon as holy people, who deserved to be treated with veneration and respect." Chapter XXXIX "Things went on in this flourishing way for several years; my husband, deeply impressed with the responsibility of his position, as a chosen servant of God, devoted himself so entirely to the great work he had undertaken, that he often seemed to overlook the claims upon his attention of her he had chosen as his partner, in his struggle against the Powers of Darkness. Sometimes I did not see him for several days; and often when we were together, he was so abstracted, he did not seem aware I was present. Whenever I could get him to speak of himself, he would dilate on the unspeakable felicity that he felt in drawing nearer to the end of his work. I affected not to know to what he alluded; but I always felt that he was referring to the impression he entertained of his own speedy dissolution, which he had taken up when he first embraced this mission. "I tried to get rid of my misgivings by recalling the dangers and difficulties we had triumphantly passed, and referring to the encouraging state of things that existed at the present time; nevertheless, I could not prevent a sinking of the heart, whenever I heard him venture upon the subject; and when he was absent from me, I often experienced an agony of anxiety till his return. I saw, however, no real cause of apprehension, and endeavoured to persuade myself none existed; and very probably I should have succeeded, had not my husband so frequently indulged in references to our separation. "Alas," she exclaimed, mournfully, "he was better informed than I was of the proximity of that Celestial Home, for which he had been so long and zealously preparing himself. He, doubtless, had his intimation from on high, that his translation to the realms of bliss, was no remote consequence of his undertaking the mission he had accepted; and he had familiarised his mind to it as a daily duty, and by his constant references had sought to prepare me for the catastrophe he knew to be inevitable." Here Mrs Reichardt became so sensibly affected, that it was some time before she could proceed with her narrative. She, however, did so at last, yet I could see by the tears that traced each other down her wan cheeks, how much her soul was moved by the terrible details into which she was obliged to enter. "In the midst of our success," she presently resumed, "when we had established a congregation, had baptised hundreds of men, women, and children, had completed a regular place of worship, and an extensive school-house, both of which were fully and regularly attended, some European vessel paid us a short visit, soon after which, that dreadful scourge the small-pox, broke out amongst the people. Both children and adults were seized, and as soon as one died a dozen were attacked. "Soon the greatest alarm pervaded the natives; my husband was implored to stop the pestilence, which power they felt convinced he had in his hands. He did all that was possible for him to do, but that unfortunately was very little. His recommendation of remedial measures was rarely attended with the desired results. Death was very busy. The people died in scores, and the survivors, excited by the vindictive men who had formerly sought his death for disparaging their gods, began not only to fall off rapidly in their regard and reverence for my husband, but murmurs first, and execrations afterwards, and violent menaces subsequently, attended him whenever he appeared. "He preached to them resignation to the Divine Will; but resignation was not a savage virtue. He was indefatigable in his attentions to the sick; but those of whom he was most careful seemed the speediest to die. The popular feeling against him increased every hour; he appeared, however, to defy his fate--walking unconcernedly amongst crowds of infuriated savages brandishing heavy clubs, and threatening him with the points of their sharp spears; but his eye never blinked, and his cheek never blanched, and he walked on his way inwardly praising God, careless of the evil passions that raged around him. "It was on a Sabbath morn--our service had far advanced; we could boast of but a limited congregation, for many had died, some had fled from the pestilence into the interior; others had avoided the place in consequence of the threats of their countrymen. A few children, and two or three women, were all their teacher had to address. "We were engaged in singing a Psalm, when a furious crowd, mad with rage, as it seemed, screaming and yelling in the most frightful manner, and brandishing their weapons as though about to attack an enemy, burst into our little chapel, and seized my husband in the midst of his devotions. "I rushed forward to protect him from the numerous weapons that were aimed at his life, but was dragged back by the hair of my head; and with infuriate cries and gestures, that made them look like demons broke loose from hell, they fell upon him with their clubs and spears. "Reichardt made no resistance, he merely clasped his hands the more firmly, and looked up to Heaven the more devoutly, as he continued the Psalm he had commenced before they entered. This did not delay his fate. "They beat out his brains so close to me, that I was covered with his blood, and I believe I should have shared the same fate, had I not fainted with terror at the horrible scene of which I was a forced spectator. "I learned afterwards that some powerful chief interfered, and I was carried away more dead than alive, in which state I long remained. As soon as I became sufficiently strong to be moved, I took advantage of a whaler calling at the island, homeward bound, to beg a passage. The captain heard my lamentable story, took me on board as soon as he could, and shewed a seaman's sympathy for my sufferings. "I was to have returned to England with him, but off this place we encountered a terrible storm, in which we were obliged to take to the boats, as the only chance of saving our lives. What became of him I know not, as the two boats parted company soon after leaving the wreck. I trust he managed to reach the land in safety, and is now in his own country, enjoying all the comforts that can make life covetable. "What became of that part of the crew that brought me here in the other boat, led by the fires you had lighted, I am in doubt. But I think on quitting the island, crowded as their boat was, and in the state of its crew, it was scarcely possible for them to have made the distant island for which they steered." Chapter XL Mrs Reichardt's story made a sensible impression on me. I no longer wondered at the pallor of her countenance, or the air of melancholy that at first seemed so remarkable; she had suffered most severely, and her sufferings were too recent not to have left their effects upon her frame. I thought a good deal about her narrative, and wondered much that men could be got to leave their comfortable homes, and travel thousands and thousands of miles across the fathomless seas, with the hope of converting a nation of treacherous savages, by whom they were sure to be slaughtered at the first outbreak of ill-feeling. I could not but admire the character of Reichardt--in all his actions he had exhibited a marked nobility of nature. He would not present himself before the woman who had the strongest claims upon his gratitude, till he had obtained a position and a reputation that should, in his opinion, make him worthy of her; and though he had a presentiment of the fate that would overtake him, he fulfilled his duties as a missionary with a holy enthusiasm that made him regard his approaching martyrdom as the greatest of all earthly distinctions. I felt regret that I had not known such a man. I knew how much I had lost in having missed such an example. My having heard this story led me into much private communing with myself respecting religion. I could consider myself little better than a savage, like the brutal Sandwich Islanders; my conduct to Jackson had been only in a degree less inhuman than that these idolaters had shewn to their teacher when he was in their power. I fancied at the time that I served him right, for his villainous conduct to my father, and brutal conduct to me: but God having punished him for his misdeeds, I felt satisfied I had no business to put him to greater torment as satisfaction for my own private injuries. I fancied God might have been angry with me, and had kept me on the island as a punishment for my offences; and I had some conversation with Mrs Reichardt on this point. "Nothing," she observed, "can excuse your ill-feeling towards Jackson; he was a bad man, without a doubt, and he deserved condign punishment for his usage of your parents; but the Divine founder of our religion has urged us to return good for evil." "Yes," I answered readily, "but I should have suffered as bad as my father and mother, had I not prevented his doing me mischief." "You do not know that you were to suffer," she replied. "Jackson, without such terrible punishment as he brought upon himself, might eventually have become contrite, and have restored you to your friends as well as enabled you to obtain your grandfather's property. God frequently performs marvellous things with such humble instruments, for he hath said, 'There is more joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, than over ninety-nine just men.'" "Surely, this is raising the wicked man over the good," I cried. "Not at all," she replied. "The repentant is one gained from the ranks of the great enemy--it is as one that was lost and is found again--it is a soul added to the blessed. Therefore the joy in heaven is abundant at such a conversion. The just are the natural heirs of heaven--their rights are acknowledged without dispute--their claim is at once recognised and allowed, and they receive their portion of eternal joy as a matter of course, without there being any necessity for exciting those demonstrations of satisfaction which hail the advent of a sinner saved." "I don't think such a villain as Jackson would ever go to heaven," I observed. "'Judge not, lest ye be judged,'" she answered; "that is a text that cannot be too often impressed upon persons anxious to condemn to eternal torment all those they believe to be worse than themselves. It is great presumption in us poor creatures of clay, to anticipate the proceedings of the Infinite Wisdom. Let us leave the high prerogative of judgment to the Almighty Power, by whom only it is exercised, and in our opinions of even the worst of our fellow-creatures, let us exercise a comprehensive charity, mingled with a prayer that even at the eleventh hour, they may have turned from the evil of their ways, and embraced the prospect of salvation, which the mercy of their Creator has held out to them." In this and similar conversations, Mrs Reichardt would endeavour to plant in my mind the soundest views of religion; and she spoke so well, and so convincingly, that I had little trouble in understanding her meaning, or in retaining it after it had been uttered. It was not, as I have before stated, to religion only that she led my thoughts, although that certainly was the most frequent subject of our conversation. She sought to instruct me in the various branches of knowledge into which she had acquired some insight, and in this way I picked up as much information respecting grammar, geography, astronomy, writing, arithmetic, history, and morals, as I should have gained had I been at a school, instead of being forced to remain on a desolate island. I need not say that I still desired to leave it. I had long been tired of the place, notwithstanding that from our united exertions, we enjoyed many comforts which we could not have hoped for. Our hut we had metamorphosed into something Mrs Reichardt styled a rustic cottage, which, covered as it was with flowers and creepers, really looked very pretty; and the garden added greatly to its pleasant appearance: for near the house we had transplanted everything that bore a flower that could be found in the island, and had planted some shrubs, that, having been carefully nurtured made rapid growth, and screened the hut from the wind. I had built a sort of out-house for storing potatoes and firewood, and a fowl-house for the gannets, which were now a numerous flock; and had planted a fence round the garden, so that as Mrs Reichardt said, we looked as if we had selected a dwelling in our own beloved England, in the heart of a rural district, instead of our being circumscribed in a little island thousands of miles across the wide seas, from the home of which we were so fond of talking. Although my companion always spoke warmly of the land of her birth, and evidently would have been glad to return to it, she never grieved over her hard fate in being, as it were, a prisoner on a rock, out of reach of friends and kindred; indeed, she used to chide me for being impatient of my detention, and insensible of the blessings I enjoyed. "What temptations are we not free from here?" she would say. "We see nothing of the world; we cannot be contaminated with its vices, or suffer from its follies. The hideous wars--the terrible revolutions--the dreadful visitations of famine and pestilence--are completely unknown to us. Robbery, and murder, and fraud, and the thousand other phases of human wickedness, we altogether escape. There was a time, when men, for the purpose of leading holy lives, abandoned the fair cities in which they had lived in the enjoyment of every luxury, and sought a cave in some distant desert, where, in the lair of some wild beast, with a stone for a pillow, a handful of herbs for a meal, and a cup of water for beveridge, they lived out the remnant of their days in a constant succession of mortifications, prayers, and penitence. "How different," she added, "is our own state. We are as far removed from the sinfulness of the world as any hermit of the desert, whilst we have the enjoyment of comforts to which they were strangers." "But probably," I observed, "these men were penitents, and went into the desert as much to punish their bodies for the transgressions of the flesh, as to acquire by solitary communion, a better knowledge of the spirit than they were likely to obtain in their old haunts." "Some were penitents, no doubt," she answered, "but they, having obtained by their sanctity an extraordinary reputation, induced others, whose lives had been blameless, to follow their example, and in time the desert became colonised with recluses, who rivalled each other in the intensity of their devotions and the extent of their privations." "Would it not have been more commendable," I asked, "if these men had remained in the community to which they belonged, withstanding temptation, and been employed in labour that was creditable to themselves and useful to their country?" "No doubt it would," she replied; "but religion has, unfortunately, too often been the result of impulse rather than conviction; and at the period to which we are referring, it was thought that sinful human nature could only gain the attributes of saintship by neglecting its social duties, and punishing its humanity in the severest manner. Even in more recent times, and at the present day, in Catholic countries, it is customary for individuals of both sexes, to abandon the world of which they might render themselves ornaments, and shut themselves up in buildings constructed expressly to receive them, where they continue to go through a course of devotions and privations till death puts an end to their voluntary imprisonment. "In this modified instance of seclusion," she added, "there are features very different from our own case. We are not forced to impoverish our blood with insufficient diet, or mortify our flesh with various forms of punishment. We do not neglect the worship of God. We offer up daily thanks for his loving care of us, and sing his praises in continual hymns: and instead of wasting the hours of the day in unmeaning penances, we fill up our time in employments that add to our health, comfort, and happiness: and that enable us the better to appreciate the goodness of that Power who is so mindful of our welfare." "Have you no wish then, to leave this island?" I inquired. "I should gladly avail myself of the first opportunity that presented itself for getting safely to England," she replied. "But I would wait patiently the proper time. It is not only useless repining at our prolonged stay here, but it looks like an ungrateful doubting of the power of God to remove us. Be assured that he has not preserved us so long, and through so many dangers, to abandon us when we most require his interposition in our favour." I endeavoured to gather consolation from such representations: but perhaps young people are not so easily reconciled to what they do not like, as are their elders, for I cannot say I succeeded in becoming satisfied with my position. Chapter XLI The perils of my first voyage had deterred me from making a similar experiment; but I recovered my boat, and having further strengthened it, fitted it with what could either be turned into a well or locker: I used to row out a little distance when the sea was free from sharks and fish. But my grand effort in this direction was the completion of a net, which, assisted by Mrs Reichardt, I managed to manufacture. By this time she had gained sufficient confidence to accompany me in my fishing excursions; she would even take the oars whilst I threw out the net, and assisted me in dragging it into the boat. The first time we got such a haul, that I was afraid of the safety of our little craft. The locker was full, and numbers of great fish, as I flung them out of the net, were flapping and leaping about the bottom of the boat. It began to sink lower in the water than was agreeable to either of us, and I found it absolutely necessary to throw back into the sea the greater portion of our catch. We then rowed carefully to land, rejoicing that we had at our command, the means of obtaining an abundant supply of food whenever we desired it. Mrs Reichardt was with me also in our land excursions. Together we had explored every part of the island; our chief object was plants for enriching our garden, and often as we had been in search of novelties, we invariably brought home additions to our collection; and my companion having acquired some knowledge of botany, would explain to me the names, characters, and qualities of the different species, which made our journeys peculiarly interesting. Our appearance often caused considerable amusement to each other; for our respective costumes must have been extremely curious in the eyes of a stranger. Neither wore shoes or stockings--these things we did not possess, and could not procure; we wore leggings and sandals of seal skin to protect us from the thorns and plants of the cacti tribe, among which we were obliged to force our way. My companion wore a conical cap of seal skin, and protected her complexion from the sun, by a rude attempt at an umbrella I had made for her. She had on, on these occasions, a pair of coarse cloth trousers, as her own dress would have been torn to pieces before she had got half a mile through the bush; these were surmounted by a tight spencer she had herself manufactured out of a man's waistcoat, and a dimity petticoat, which buttoned up to her throat, and was fastened in the same way at the wrists. My head was covered with a broad-brimmed hat, made of dry grass, which I had myself platted. I wore a sailor's jacket, much the worse for wear, patched with seal skin, over a pair of duck trousers, similarly repaired. Although our expeditions were perfectly harmless, we did not go without weapons. At the instigation of my companion, I had made myself a good stout bow and plenty of arrows, and had exercised myself so frequently at aiming at a mark, as to have acquired very considerable skill in the use of them. I had now several arrows of hard wood tipped with sharp fish-bones, and some with iron nails, in a kind of pouch behind me; in its sheath before me was my American knife, which I used for taking the plants from the ground. I had a basket made of the long grass of the island, slung around me, which served to contain our treasures; and I carried my bow in my hand. My companion, in addition to her umbrella, bore only a long staff, and a small basket tied round her waist that usually contained a little refreshment; for she would say there was no knowing what might occur to delay our return, and therefore it was better to take our meal with us. And not the least agreeable portion of the day's labour was our repast; for we would seat ourselves in some quiet corner, surrounded by flowers, and shaded by the brushwood from the sun, and there eat our dried fish or pick our birds, and roast our potatoes by means of a fire of dried sticks, and wash down our simple dinner with a flask of pure water--the most refreshing portion of our banquet. I had, as I have just stated, attained a singular degree of skill in the use of the bow and arrow, which, as we had no fire-arms, was often of important service in procuring food on land. I had made another use of my skill--an application of it which afforded me a vast deal of satisfaction. My old enemies the sharks used still to frequent a certain portion of the coast in great numbers, and as soon as I became master of my weapon, I would stand as near to the edge of the rock as was safe, and singling out my victim, aim at his upper fin, which I often found had the effect of ridding the place of that fellow. I bore such an intense hatred to these creatures, for the fright they had put me into during my memorable voyage of discovery, and for the slaughter of my beloved Nero, that I determined to wage incessant war against them, as long as I could manufacture an arrow, or a single shark remained on the coast. As we had so often traversed the island without accident, we dreamt not of danger. We had never met with any kind of animals, except our old friends the seals, who kept near the sea. Of birds, the gannets were generally the sole frequenters of the island; but we had seen, at rare intervals, birds of a totally different character, some of which I had shot. Indeed, during our excursions, I was always on the look out for any stranger of the feathered race, that I might exercise my skill upon him. If he proved eatable, he was sure to be very welcome; and even if he could not be cooked, he afforded me some entertainment, in hearing from Mrs Reichardt his name and habits. We had discovered a natural hollow which lay so low that it was quite hid till we came close to it, when we had to descend a steep declivity covered with shrubs. At the bottom was a soil evidently very productive, for we found trees growing there to a considerable height, that were in marked contrast to the shrubby plants that grew in other parts of the island. We called this spot the Happy Valley, and it became a favourite resting-place. I remember on one of these occasions, we had made our dinner after having been several hours employed in seeking for plants, of which we had procured a good supply, and the remains of our meal lay under a great tree, beneath the spreading branches of which we had been resting ourselves. It was quite on the other side of the island, within about a quarter of a mile from the sea. Abundance of curious plants grew about the place, and Mrs Reichardt had wandered to a little distance to examine all within view. I was peering into the trees and shrubs around to discover a new comer. I had wandered in an opposite direction to that taken by my companion, and was creeping round a clump of shrubs about twenty yards off, in which I detected a chirping noise, when I heard a loud scream. I turned sharply round and beheld Mrs Reichardt, evidently in an agony of terror, running towards me with prodigious swiftness. She had dropped her umbrella and her staff, her cap had fallen from her head, and her long hair, disarranged by her sudden flight, streamed behind her shoulders. At first I did not see anything which could have caused this terrible alarm, but in a few seconds I heard a crushing among a thicket of shrubs from which she was running, as if some heavy weight was being forced through them; and presently there issued a most extraordinary monster. It came forward at a quick pace, its head erect above ten feet, its jaws wide open, from the midst of which there issued a forked tongue which darted in and out with inconceivable rapidity. Its body was very long, and thick as an ordinary tree; it was covered over with bright shining scales that seemed to have different colours, and was propelled along the ground in folds of various sizes, with a length of tail of several yards behind. Its eyes were very bright and fierce. Its appearance certainly accounted for my companion's alarm. "Fly!" she cried in accents of intense terror, as she rushed towards me, "fly, or you are lost!" She then gave a hurried glance behind her, and seeing the formidable monster in full chase, she just had power to reach the spot to which I had advanced, and sunk overpowered with terror, fainting at my feet. My first movement was to step across her body for the purpose of disputing the passage of the monster, and in an erect posture, with my bow drawn tight as I could pull it, I waited a few seconds till I could secure a good aim, for I knew everything depended on my steadiness and resolution. On came my prodigious antagonist, making a terrible hissing as he approached, his eyes flashing, his jaws expanded as if he intended to swallow me at a mouthful, and the enormous folds of his huge body passing like wheels over the ground, crushing the thick plants that came in their way like grass. I must acknowledge that in my heart I felt a strange sinking sensation, but I remembered that our only chance of escape lay in giving the monster a mortal wound, and the imminence of the danger seemed to afford me the resolution I required. He was close behind, and in a direct line with the tree under which we had dined, and I was about twenty yards from it. Directly his head darted round and in front of the tree, making a good mark, I let fly the arrow direct, as I thought, for his eye, hoping, by penetrating his brain, to settle him at once. But as he moved his head at that moment, the arrow went into his open jaws, one of which it penetrated, and going deep into the tree behind, pinned his head close to the bark. As soon as the huge creature found himself hurt, he wound his enormous body round the trunk, and with his desperate exertions swayed the great tree backwards and forwards, as I would have done one of its smallest branches. Fearful that he would liberate himself before I could save my senseless companion, as quick as possible I discharged all my arrows into his body, which took effect in various places. His exertions then became so terrible that I hastily snatched up Mrs Reichardt in my arms, and with a fright that seemed to give me supernatural strength, I ran as fast as I could the shortest way to our hut. Fortunately, before I had gone half a mile, my companion came to her senses, and was able to continue her flight. We got home at last, half dead with fatigue and fright; nevertheless the first thing we did was to barricade all the entrances. We left loop-holes to reconnoitre; and there we sat for hours after our arrival, waiting the monster's approach in fear and trembling. We did not go to sleep that night. We did not, either of us, go out the next day. The next night one watched while the other slept. The second day my courage had so far returned, I wanted to go and look after the constant subject of our conversation. But Mrs Reichardt dissuaded me. She told me it was an enormous python, or serpent of the boa species, that are common on the northern coast of America. Probably it had been brought to the island on a drifted tree, and being so prodigious a reptile, the wounds it had received were not likely to do it much harm, and it would be no doubt lurking about, ready to pounce upon either of us directly we appeared. On the third day, nothing having occurred to increase our alarm, I determined to know the worst; so I got by stealth out of the house, and armed with a fresh bow, a good supply of arrows, a hatchet slung at my side, and my American knife--with my mind made up for another conflict if necessary--I crept stealthily along, with my eyes awake to the slightest motion, and my ears open to the slightest sound, till I approached the scene of my late unequal struggle. I must own I began to draw my breath rather rapidly, and my heart beat more quickly, as I came near the place where I had left my terrible enemy. To my extreme surprise the python had disappeared. There was a tree still standing, though its foliage and branches strewed the ground, and a great portion of its bark was ground to powder. At the base of the trunk was a pool of blood mingled with fragments of bark, broken arrows, leaves, and mould. The reptile had escaped. But where was he? Not altogether without anxiety I began to look for traces of his retreat; and they were easily found. With my arrow ready for immediate flight, I followed a stream of blood that was still visible on the grass, and led from the tree, accompanied by unmistakable marks of the great serpent's progress, in a direct line to the sea. There it disappeared. When I discovered this, I breathed again. There was no doubt if the monster survived the conflict, he was hundreds of miles away, and was not likely to return to a place where he had received so rough a welcome. It may readily be believed I lost no time in taking the agreeable news to my companion. Chapter XLII I had become tired of looking out for a ship. Though day after day, and week after week, I made the most careful scrutiny with my glass, as I have said, it brought no result. I sometimes fancied I saw a vessel appearing in the line of the horizon, and I would pile up faggots and light them, and throw on water to make them smoke, as Jackson had done; but all without avail. Either my vision had deceived me, or my signals had not been observed, or the ship's course did not lie in the direction of the island. We had had storms too on several occasions, but no wreck had been left on our coast. I began to think we were doomed to live out our lives on this rock, and frequently found myself striving very manfully to be resigned to my fate, and for a few days I would cheerfully endeavour to make the best of it. But the increasing desire I felt to get to England, that I might seek out my grandfather, and put him in possession of his diamonds, always prevented this state of things enduring very long. I had obtained from Mrs Reichardt an idea of the value of these stones, and of the importance of their restoration to my relative, and I had often thought of the satisfaction I should enjoy in presenting myself before him, as the restorer of such valuable property, which, no doubt, had long since been given up as lost. But latterly, I thought less of these things; the chance of leaving the island seemed so remote, and the prospect of ever seeing my grandfather so very distant, that I had ceased to take any interest in the contents of the belt. The diamonds seemed to become as valueless as they were useless; a handful of wheat would have been much more desirable. It was now some time since I had seen the belt, or inquired about it. Thus we lived without any incident occurring worth relating--when one day the appearance of the atmosphere indicated a storm, and a very violent hurricane, attended with peals of thunder and lurid flashes of lightning, lasted during the whole of the day and evening. The wind tore up the trees by the roots, blew down our outhouses, made terrible havoc in our garden, and threatened to tumble our hut over our heads. We could not think of going to our beds whilst such a tempest was raging around us, so we sat up, listening to the creaking of the boards, and anticipating every moment that the whole fabric would be blown to pieces. Fortunately, the bark with which I had covered the roof, in a great measure protected us from the rain, which came down in torrents; but every part was not equally impervious, and our discomfort was increased by seeing the water drip through, and form pools on the floor. The thunder still continued at intervals, and was sometimes so loud as to have a most startling effect upon us. My companion knelt down and said her prayers with great fervour, and I joined in them with scarcely less devotion. Indeed it was an awful night, and our position, though under shelter, was not without danger. The incessant flashes of lightning seemed to play round our edifice, as if determined to set it in a blaze; and the dreadful peals of thunder that followed, rolled over our heads, as if about to burst upon the creaking boards that shut us from its fury. I fancied once or twice that I heard during the storm bursts of sound quite different in character from the peals of thunder. They were not so loud, and did not reverberate so much; they seemed to come nearer, and then the difference in sound became very perceptible. "Great God!" exclaimed Mrs Reichardt, starting up from her kneeling posture, "that is a gun from some ship." The wind seemed less boisterous for a few seconds, and the thunder ceased. We listened breathlessly for the loud boom we had just heard, but it was not repeated. In a moment afterwards our ears were startled by the most terrifying combination of screams, shrieks, cries, and wailings I had ever heard. My blood seemed chilled in my veins. "A ship has just struck," whispered my companion, scarcely above her breath. "The Lord have mercy on the crew!" She sank on her knees again in prayer, as if for the poor souls who were struggling in the jaws of death. The wind still howled, and the thunder still roared, but in the fiercest war of the elements, I fancied I could every now and then hear the piercing shrieks sent up to heaven for assistance. I thought once or twice of venturing out, but I remembered the safety of my companion was so completely bound up with my own, that I could not reconcile myself to leaving her; and I was also well aware, that till the terrible fury of the tempest abated, it was impossible for me to be of the slightest service to the people of the wrecked ship, even could I remain unharmed exposed to the violence of the weather. I however awaited with much impatience and intense anxiety till the storm had in some measure spent itself; but this did not occur till sunrise the next morning. The wind fell, the thunder and lightning ceased, the rain was evidently diminishing, and the brightness of the coming day began to burst through the darkest night that had ever visited the island. Mrs Reichardt would not be left behind; it was possible she might be useful, and taking with her a small basket of such things as she imagined might be required, she accompanied me to the rocks nearest the sea. On arriving there, the most extraordinary scene presented itself. The sea was strewed with spars, masts, chests, boats stove in or otherwise injured, casks, empty hen-coops, and innumerable pieces of floating wreck that were continually dashed against the rocks, or were washed ashore, wherever an opening for the sea presented itself. At a little distance lay the remains of a fine ship, her masts gone by the board, her decks open, in fact a complete wreck, over which the sea had but lately been making a clean sweep, carrying overboard everything that could not resist its fury. I could see nothing resembling a human being, though both myself and my companion looked carefully round in the hope of discovering some poor creature, that might need assistance. It appeared, however, as if the people of the ship had taken to their boats, which had been swamped, and most probably all who had ventured into them had been devoured by the sharks. Had the crew remained on board, they would in all probability have been saved; as the vessel had been thrown almost high and dry. As soon as we had satisfied ourselves that no sharks were in the neighbourhood, I launched my little boat, and each taking an oar, we pulled in the direction of the wreck, which we reached in a few minutes. She had heeled over after striking, and the water was quite smooth under her lee. I contrived to climb into the main chains, and from thence on board, and was soon afterwards diligently exploring the ship. I penetrated every place into which I could effect an entrance, marvelling much at the variety of things I beheld. There seemed such an abundance of everything, and of things too quite new to me, that I was bewildered by their novelty and variety. Having discovered a coil of new rope, I hauled it on deck, and soon made fast my little boat to the ship. Then I made a hasty rope ladder which I threw over, and Mrs Reichardt was in a very few minutes standing by my side. Her knowledge was necessary to inform me of the uses of the several strange things I saw, and to select for our own use what was most desirable. She being well acquainted with the interior of a ship, and having explained to me its numerous conveniences, I could not but admire the ingenuity of man, in creating such stupendous machines. The ship having much water in the hold, I was forced to dive into the armoury. It was the first time I had seen such things, and I handled the muskets and pistols with a vast deal of curiosity; as my companion explained to me how they were loaded and fired, I at once saw their advantage over the bow and arrow, and was selecting two or three to carry away, when I hesitated on being assured they would be perfectly useless without ammunition. I might have remained content with my own savage weapons that had already served me so well, had not Mrs Reichardt, in the course of our survey, discovered several tin canisters of powder perfectly uninjured, with abundance of shot and bullets, of which I quickly took possession. From other parts of the vessel we selected bags of grain, barrels of flour, and provisions of various kinds; wearing apparel, boxes of tools, with numerous bottles and jars, with the contents of which I was perfectly unacquainted, though their discovery gave great gratification to my companion. What most excited my wonder, were various kinds of agricultural implements that we found in the hold, and in a short time I was made aware of the proper employment of spades, harrows, ploughs, thrashing-machines, and many other things, of the existence of which I had never before dreamt. We found also quantities of various kinds of seeds and roots, and some sort of twigs growing in pots, which Mrs Reichardt particularly begged me not to leave behind, as they would be of the greatest use to us; and she added that, from various signs, she believed that the ship had been an emigrant vessel going out with settlers, but to what place she could not say. We made no ceremony in breaking open lockers and chests, and every where discovered a variety of things, which, could we transfer to our island, would add greatly to our comfort; but how they were to be got ashore, was a puzzle which neither of us seemed capable of solving. Our little boat would only contain a few of the lighter articles; and as many of these as we could conveniently put together were shortly stowed in her. With this cargo we were about returning, when my companion called my attention to a noise that seemed to come from a distant corner of the vessel, and she laughed and exhibited so much satisfaction that I believed we were close upon some discovery far more important than any we had yet hit upon. We continued to make our way to what seemed to me a very out of the way part of the vessel, led in a great measure by the noises that proceeded from thence. It was so dark here, that we were obliged to get a light, and my companion having procured a ship's lantern, and lighted it by means of a tinderbox, led me to a place where I could discern several animals, most of which were evidently dead. She however ascertained that there were two young calves, three or four sheep, and as many young pigs, still giving very noisy evidence of their existence. She searched about and found some food for them, which they ate with great avidity. The larger animals she told me were cows and horses; but they had fallen down, and gave no signs of life. My companion and myself then entered into a long debate as to how we were to remove the living animals from the dead; and she dwelt very eloquently upon the great advantages that would accrue to us, if we could succeed in transporting to the island the survivors. After giving them a good feed, seeing we could not remove them at present, we descended safely to our boat and gained the shore without any accident. Then having housed our treasures, we were for putting together a raft of the various planks and barrels that were knocking against the rocks, but as I knew this would take a good deal of time, I thought I would inspect the ship's boats, which, bottom upwards, were drifting about within a few yards of us. To our great satisfaction, one I ascertained to be but little injured, and having forced her ashore, with our united exertions we turned her over. In an hour we had made her water-tight, had picked up her oars, and were pulling merrily for the wreck. Chapter XLIII Had the cows or horses been alive, they must have been left behind, for we could not have removed them, but the smaller animals were with comparatively little difficulty got on deck, and they descended with me into the boat. We added a few things that lay handy, and in a few minutes were laughingly driving our four-footed treasures on shore, to the extreme astonishment of the gannets, which seemed as though they would never cease to flap their wings, as their new associates were driven by them. In the same way we removed the most portable of the agricultural implements, bed and bedding, cots, and hammocks, furniture, the framework of a house, preserved provisions of all kinds, a medicine chest, boxes of books, crates of china and glass, all sorts of useful tools, and domestic utensils; in short, in the course of the next two or three weeks, by repeated journeys, we filled every available place we could find with what we had managed to rescue. Then came another terrible storm that lasted two days, after which the wreck having been broken up, was scattered in every direction. I however managed to secure the drift wood, tubs, spars, and chests, which were all got on shore, and proved of the greatest service to me some time afterwards. Numerous as our acquisitions had been in this way, both of us had been infinitely better pleased had we been able to rescue some of the ill-fated crew, to whom they had once belonged. But not one of them could have escaped, and only one body was cast on shore, which was that of a young woman, who lay with her face to the ground, and her wet clothes clinging round her. We turned her carefully over, and I beheld a face that seemed to me wonderfully fair and beautiful. She had escaped the sharks, and had been dead several hours--most probably she had been cast on shore by the waves soon after the ship struck, for she had escaped also the rocks, which, had she been dashed against, would have left fearful signs of their contact on her delicate frame. The sight of her corpse gave me many melancholy thoughts. I thought of the delight she might have caused both of us, had she been saved. What a pleasant companion she might have proved! Indeed, as I looked on her pale cold features, I fancied that she might have reconciled me to ending my existence on the island--ay, even to the abandonment of my favourite scheme of seeking my grandfather to give him back his diamonds. We took her up with as much pity and affection as if she were our nearest and dearest relative, and carried her home and placed her on Mrs Reichardt's bed; and then I laid some planks together, in the shape of what Mrs Reichardt called a coffin--and I dug her a deep grave in the guano. And all the while I found myself crying as I had never cried before, and my heart seemed weary and faint. In solemn silence we carried her to her grave, and read over her the funeral service out of the Prayer-book, kneeling and praying for this nameless creature, whom we had never seen alive, as though she had been our companion for many years; both of us shedding tears for her hapless fate as if we had lost a beloved sister. And when we had filled up her grave and departed, we went home, and passed the most miserable day we had ever had to endure since we had first been cast upon the island. I had now numerous occupations that kept me actively employed. Still I could not for a long time help recalling to mind that pale face that looked so piteously upon me when I first beheld it; and then I would leave off my work, and give myself up to my melancholy thoughts till my attention was called off by some appeal from my companion. I made a kind of monument over the place where she was buried, and planted there the finest flowers we had; and I never passed the spot without a prayer, as if I were approaching holy ground. I must not forget to add, that a few days after the wreck we were agreeably surprised by visitors that, though unexpected, were extremely welcome. I had noticed strange birds wandering about in various parts of the island. On their coming under the notice of my companion, they were immediately recognised as fowls and ducks that had no doubt escaped from the ship. We might now, therefore, constitute ourselves a little colony, of which Mrs Reichardt and myself were the immediate governors, the settlers being a mingled community of calves, sheep, pigs, and poultry, that lived on excellent terms with each other; the quadrupeds having permission to roam where they pleased, and the bipeds being kept within a certain distance of the government house. The old hut had suffered so much from the storm that I determined on building another in a better position, and had recourse to the framework of the house I had taken from the wreck. I had some difficulty in putting the several parts together, but at last succeeded, and a small, but most commodious dwelling was the result. Near it I laid out a new garden, wherein I planted all the orange-trees we had reared, as well as many of the seeds and roots we had brought from the wreck. A little beyond I enclosed a paddock, wherein I planted the twigs we had found in pots, which proved to be fruit trees. When I had done this, I thought of my agricultural implements, and very much desired to make use of a handy plough that was amongst them, when I learned the advantages that might arise from it. At first, I yoked myself to the plough, and Mrs Reichardt held it: this proved such hard and awkward work that I kept projecting all sorts of plans for lessening the labour--the best was that of yoking our calves, and making them pull instead of myself. This was more easily thought of than done. The animals did not prove very apt pupils, but in course of time, with a good deal of patience, and some manoeuvring, I succeeded in making them perform the work they were expected to do. Thus, in building, gardening, planting, and farming, the time flew by quickly, and in the course of the next year the aspect of the place had become quite changed. The guano that enriched the soil made every kind of vegetation thrive with an almost marvellous rapidity and luxuriance. We had a comfortable house, up which a vine was creeping in one place, and a young pear-tree in another. We were supplied with the choicest oranges, and had apples of several kinds. We had abundance of furniture, and an inexhaustible stock of provisions. We had a most gorgeous show of flowers of many different species; our new kitchen garden was full of useful vegetables--young fruit trees were yielding their produce wherever they had been planted--the poultry had more than doubled their number--the calves were taking upon themselves the full dignity of the state of cow and bull--the ewes had numerous lambs--and the pigs had not only grown into excellent pork, but had already produced more than one litter that would be found equally desirable when provisions ran scarce. We had two growing crops, of different kinds of grain, and a large pasture-field fenced round. The Little Savage, at seventeen, had been transformed into a farmer, and the cultivation of the farm and the care of the live stock soon left him no time for indulging in vain longings to leave the island, or useless regrets for the fair creature who, even in death, I had regarded as its greatest ornament. Two years later, still greater improvements, and still greater additions became visible. We were establishing a dairy farm on a small scale, and as our herds and flocks, as well as the pigs and poultry, increased rapidly, we promised in a few years to be the most thriving farmers that had ever lived in that part of the world by the cultivation of the land. Chapter XLIV Although my first experimental voyage had proved so hazardous, now that I was better provided for meeting its perils, I became anxious to make another attempt to circumnavigate the island. The boat that had belonged to the wrecked ship, from the frequent trips I had made in her to and from the shore, I could manage as well as if I had been rowing boats all my life. With the assistance of Mrs Reichardt, who pulled an oar almost as well as myself, we could get her along in very good style, even when heavily laden, and our labours together had taken from her all that timidity which had deterred her from trusting herself with me, when I first ventured from the island. I was, however, very differently circumstanced now, to what I was then. Instead of a frail cockle-shell, that threatened to be capsized by every billow that approached it, and that would scarcely hold two persons comfortably, I was master of a well-built ship's-boat, that would hold half a dozen with ease, and except in very rough weather, was as safe as any place ashore. I had repaired the slight damage its timbers had received, and had made an awning to protect us when rowing from the heat of the sun; I had also raised a sail, which would relieve us of a good deal of labour. When everything was prepared, I urged Mrs Reichardt to accompany me in a voyage round the island; an excursion I hoped would turn out equally pleasant and profitable. I found her very averse to trusting herself farther from shore than was absolutely necessary. She raised all kinds of objections--prominent among which were my want of seamanship for managing a boat in the open sea; the danger that might arise from a sudden squall coming on; her fear of our getting amongst a shoal of sharks, and the risk we ran of driving against a projecting rock; but I overruled them all. I showed her, by taking little trips out to sea, that I could manage the boat either with the sail or the oars, and assured her that by keeping close to the island, we could run ashore before danger could reach us; and that nothing could be easier than our keeping out of the reach of both rocks and sharks. I do not think I quite convinced her that her fears were groundless, but my repeated entreaties, the fineness of the weather, and her dislike to be again left on the island, whilst I was risking my life at sea, prevailed, and she promised to join me in this second experiment. Her forethought, however, was here as fully demonstrated as on other occasions, for she did not suffer the boat to leave the shore till she had provided for any accident that might prevent our return in the anticipated time. A finer day for such a voyage we could not have selected. The sky was without a cloud, and there was just wind enough for the purpose I wanted, without any apprehensions of this being increased. I got up the awning, and spread the sail, and handing Mrs Reichardt to her appointed seat, we bid farewell to our four-footed and two-footed friends ashore, that were gazing at us as if they knew they were parting from their only protectors. I then pushed the boat off, the wind caught the sail, and she glided rapidly through the deep water. I let her proceed in this way about a quarter of a mile from the island, and then tacked; the boat, obedient to the position of the sail, altered her course, and we proceeded at about the same rate for a considerable distance. Mrs Reichardt, notwithstanding her previous fears, could not help feeling the exhilarating effect of this adventurous voyage. We were floating, safely and gracefully, upon the billows, with nothing but sea and sky in every direction but one, where the rugged shores of our island home gave a bold, yet menacing feature to the view. My heart seemed to expand with the majestic prospect before me. Never had mariner, when discovering some prodigious continent, felt a greater degree of exultation than I experienced, when directing my little vessel over the immense wilderness of waters that spread out before me, till it joined the line of the horizon. I sat down by the side of Mrs Reichardt, and allowed the boat to proceed on its course, either as if it required no directing hand, or that its present direction was so agreeable, I felt no inclination to alter it. "I can easily imagine," said I, "the enthusiasm of such men as Columbus, whose discovery of America you were relating to me the other day. The vocation of these early navigators was a glorious one, and, when they had tracked their way over so many thousand miles of pathless water, and found themselves in strange seas, expecting the appearance of land, hitherto unknown to the civilised world, they must have felt the importance of their mission as discoverers." "No doubt, Frank," she replied. "And probably it was this that supported the great man you have just named, in the severe trials he was obliged to endure, on the very eve of the discovery that was to render his name famous to all generations. He had endured intolerable hardships, the ship had been so long without sight of land, that no one thought it worth while to look out for it, and he expected that his crew would mutiny, and insist on returning. At this critical period of his existence, first one indication of land, and then another made itself manifest; the curiosity of the disheartened sailors became excited; hope revived in the breast of their immortal captain; a man was now induced to ascend the main-top, and his joyful cry of land woke up the slumbering spirit of the crew. In this way, a new world was first presented to the attention of the inhabitants of the old." "It appears to me very unjust," I observed, "that so important a discovery should have become known to us, not by the name of its original discoverer, but by that of a subsequent visitor to its shores." "Undoubtedly," said Mrs Reichardt, "it is apparently unfair that Americus Vespucius should obtain an honour which Christopher Columbus alone had deserved. But of the fame which is the natural right of him whose courage and enterprise procured this unrivalled acquisition, no one can deprive him. His gigantic discovery may always be known as America, but the world acknowledges its obligation to Columbus, and knows little beyond the name of his rival." "Were the immediate results of so large an addition to geographical knowledge, as beneficial to the entire human race as they ought to have been?" "I do not think they were. The vast continent then thrown open to the advance of civilisation, may be divided into two portions, the south and the north. The former was inhabited by a harmless effeminate race, who enjoyed many of the refinements of civilisation; their knowledge of the arts, for instance, as shewn to us in the ruins of their cities, was considerable; they possessed extensive buildings in a bold and ornate style of architecture; they made a lavish use of the precious metals, of which the land was extremely rich, and they wore dresses which shewed a certain perfection in the manufacture of textile fabrics, and no slight degree of taste and art in their formation. "The Spaniards, who were led to this part of the continent by a desire to enrich themselves with the gold which the earliest discoverers had found in the new country in considerable quantities, invaded the territories of this peaceful people, and, by their superior knowledge of warlike weapons, and the ignorance of the intentions of their invaders that prevailed amongst the natives of all ranks, by a series of massacres, they were enabled, though comparatively but a small force, to obtain possession of the vast empire that had been established there from time immemorial, and turn it into a Spanish colony. "The blood of this harmless race flowed like water; their great Incas or Emperors were deposed and murdered, their splendid temples plundered of their riches, their nobles and priests tortured to make them change their faith, and the great mass of the people became slaves to their more warlike conquerors. It was in this way the gold of Mexico and Peru enriched the treasury of Spain; but every ingot had the curse of blood upon it, and from that time the Spanish power, then at its height, began to decline in Europe, till it sunk in the scale of nations among the least important. The colonies revolted from the mother country, and became independent states; but the curse that followed the infamous appropriation of the country, seems to cling to the descendants of the first criminals, and neither government nor people prospers; and it is evident that all these independent states must in time be absorbed by a great republic, that has sprung up by peaceable means, as it were at their side, whilst they were content to be colonies." "To what republic do you allude?" "You may remember that I told you that the entire continent was divided into south and north." "Exactly." "The history of the southern portion I have rapidly sketched for you, that of the northern you will find of a totally different character." "Pray let me hear it." "When North America was first discovered, it was found to be inhabited by a race of savages, divided into several tribes. They had no manufactures; they had no knowledge of art or science; they lived in the impenetrable woods in huts, having no pretension to architecture; they went almost entirely naked, were extremely warlike, and fond of hunting, and were known to devour the enemies they killed in battle. "To this barbarous race came a few adventurous men across the stormy Atlantic, from the distant island of England--" "Ah, England!" I exclaimed, "that is the country of my parents--that is the home of my grandfather; let me hear anything you have to say about England." Mrs Reichardt smiled at my animation, but proceeded without making any comment upon what I had said. "England possessed at this period many adventurous spirits, who were ready to dare every danger to obtain for their country a share in the honours which other lands had assumed through the enterprise of their navigators. By such men different portions of the northern continent of America were discovered; the fame of these new lands, their wonderful productiveness and admirable climate, soon spread amongst their countrymen, and from time to time various ships left the English ports with small bands of adventurers, who made what were termed settlements in the country of these savages--not by mercilessly massacring them as the Spaniards had done in the south, and then plundering them of all they possessed, but by purchasing certain districts or pieces of land from the original occupants, which they peacefully cultivated; as their numbers increased, they multiplied their habitations, and obtained by barter of the savages fresh accessions of territory." "The English showed themselves a much more humane people than the Spaniards," I observed. "But did they never come into collision with the wild natives of the country?" "Frequently," Mrs Reichardt replied, "but in some measure this was unavoidable. As new settlers from England landed in the country, they required more land; but the savages were now not inclined to barter; they had become jealous of the strangers, and were desirous of driving them back to their ships before they became too numerous. Acts of hostility were committed by the savages upon the settlers, which were often marked by great brutality: this exasperated the latter, who joined in a warlike association, and notwithstanding their numbers and daring, drove them further and further from their neighbourhood, till either by conquest, treaties, or purchase, the Englishmen or their descendants obtained the greater portion of North America." "Do they still hold possession of it?" I asked. "Up to a recent date, the whole of this vast acquisition was a colony in obedience to the government of England; but a dispute having arisen between the mother country and the colony, a struggle took place, which ended in the latter throwing off all subjection to the laws of England. The extensive provinces joined together in a union of equal privileges and powers, which has since gone by the name of the Government of the United States of North America. This is the great republic to which I just now alluded, that is gradually absorbing the minor Southern States into its--union, and threatens at no very distant date to spread the English language and the English race over the whole continent of America." "Has England then completely lost the country she colonised?" I inquired, feeling more and more interested in the subject. "No, a great portion still remains in her possession," she replied. "The people preserved their allegiance when their neighbours thought proper to rise in revolt, and are now in a state of great prosperity, governed by the laws of England, and supported by her power. The English possessions in North America form an extensive district. It is, however, but an inconsiderable fraction of the vast countries still remaining under the dominion of England. Her territories lie in every quarter of the globe; indeed the sun never sets upon this immense empire--an empire with which the conquests of Alexander, and of Caesar, or the most formidable state that existed in ancient times, cannot for a moment be compared; and when we bear in mind that in all these various climates, and in all these far-distant shores, the flag of our country affords the same protection to the colonist as he would enjoy in his own land, we may entertain some idea of the vast power that government possesses which can make itself respected at so many opposite points from the source whence it emanates." I was so much interested in this description, that I had neglected to notice the rate at which the boat was driving through the water. I now rose with great alacrity to shift the sail, as we had got several miles from the island, and if I did not take care we might be blown out of sight of land. I lost no time in putting her on another tack, but we had not proceeded far in this direction when I found the wind lull, and presently the sail drooped to the mast, and there was a dead calm. It became necessary now to take to our oars, and we were presently pulling with all our strength in the direction of land. This went on for some time till we were both tired, and I was surprised at the little progress we had made. We lay on our oars and took some refreshment, and then pulled with additional vigour; but I began to suspect that we were receding from the land instead of approaching it, and called Mrs Reichardt's attention to the fact of the island diminishing in size notwithstanding the length of time we had been pulling towards it. "Ah, Frank," she said, in a melancholy tone of voice, "I have for some time entertained suspicions that all our strength was being expended in vain. It is very clear that we have got into a current that is every moment taking us farther out to sea, and if a breeze does not soon spring up, we shall lose sight of the island, and then, heaven only knows what will become of us." I shook out the sail, in hopes of its catching sufficient wind to lead us out of the current, but not a breath of air was stirring. We did not possess such a thing as a compass; our provisions were only calculated for a pleasure trip--we had only one small jar of water, and a flask of spirit, a few biscuits, two large cakes, a chicken, and some dried fish. The land was rapidly receding; I could only mark its position with respect to the sun that now was pouring its burning rays upon our little bark. If it had not been for the awning we could not have endured it; the heat was so oppressive. We had been obliged to give over rowing, as much from the fatigue it occasioned, as from the hopelessness of our labour. We now sat with sinking hearts watching the fast retreating land. It had become a point--it diminished to a speck, and as it disappeared from our anxious sight, the sun set in all his glory, and we were drifting at the mercy of the current we knew not where, with nothing but sky and sea all around us. Chapter XLV Vainly I stretched my eyes around the illimitable field of ocean, in hope of discerning some indication of that power whose ships I had been told traversed every sea; but nothing like a vessel was in sight--the mighty waters stretched out like an endless desert on every side. There was no sign of man in all this vast space, except our little boat; and in comparison with this space, how insignificant were the two helpless human beings who sat silent and motionless in that boat awaiting their destiny. The stars came out with marvellous brilliancy. I fancied that I had never seen them appear so bright; but probably the gloominess of my thoughts made them look brighter by contrast. I seemed the centre of a glorious system of worlds revolving above me with a calm and tranquil beauty, that appeared to reproach me for giving way to despair in a scene so lovely. The great mass of water, scarcely moved by a ripple, now appeared lit up with countless fires, and a purplish haze, like a low flame, was visible in every direction. I directed the attention of my companion to this strange appearance. Notwithstanding the intensity of her anxiety, she immediately entered into an explanation of the phenomenon, and attributed it to a peculiarly phosphoric state of the sea, caused by myriads of creatures which possess the quality of the glow-worm, and rising to the surface of the water, made the latter seem as though enveloped in flame. I sat a long time watching the singular appearances that presented themselves whenever I dashed down the oar. It looked as though I was beating fire instead of water, and flame seemed to come from the oar with the drops that fell from it into the sea. In this way hours passed by: we were still floating with the current; the moon and stars were now coldly shining over our heads; the ocean around us was still gleaming with phosphoric fires, when Mrs Reichardt advised me to take some nourishment, and then endeavour to go to sleep, saying she would keep watch and apprise me if anything happened of which it might be advantageous to avail ourselves. The only thing I desired was the appearance of a vessel, or the setting in of a breeze, of which at present not a sign existed. I felt disinclined either to eat or to drink: but I proposed that my companion should make a meal and then go to sleep, as it was much more proper that I should keep watch than herself. The fact was, we were both anxious that the other should be the first to diminish our little stock of food; but as neither would be induced to do this, it was decided that our provisions should be divided into certain portions, which were only to be taken at sunrise and sunset, and that we should during the night relieve each other every three hours in keeping watch, that if we saw land, or a ship, or the wind should spring up, we might consult immediately as to our course. I only succeeded in inducing her to lie down at the bottom of the boat, to obtain a little sleep, previously to her taking my place that I might so rest myself. She first said her usual prayers for the evening, in which I joined, and in a few minutes I was glad to hear by her regular breathing, that she was obtaining that repose of which I was certain she stood greatly in need. I was now the sole observer of the stupendous spectacle that spread out around and above me the most sublime feature in this imposing scene appeared to be the silence which reigned supreme over all. The heavens were as mute as the sea. It looked as if the earth had been engulfed by a second deluge, and all living nature had perished utterly from the face of it. I felt a deep feeling of melancholy stealing over me: and could not forbear reproaching myself for embarking in this hazardous enterprise, and risking a life that I was bound to preserve. What could become of us both I knew not--but I was sensible that if we were not speedily picked up, or made some friendly shore, there existed but little hopes of our surviving many days. I made up my mind that the island we should never see again, and though I had been so anxious for so many years to quit it, now that fate had separated us for ever, I could not console myself for the loss of a home endeared to me by so many recollections. But my great grief was the loss of my grandfather's diamonds. He had now no chance of having them restored to him. If they were found they would become the property of the discoverer; and he would never know how his daughter perished on a rock, and how his grandson was swallowed up by the waters of the great deep. And then I thought of that glorious England I had so long hoped to see, and my heart sunk within me as I gazed out upon the boundless prospect. There was not a voice to murmur consolation, not a hand to offer me assistance. Was I never to see those white cliffs which had been so often described to me, that I could call them to mind as clearly as if they stood in all their pride and beauty before my eyes? How often had I dreamed of approaching the hallowed shores of England--how often had I heard the cheerful voices of her people welcoming the Little Savage to his natural home--how often had I been embraced by my aged grandfather, and received into the happy circle of his friends, with the respect and affection due to his heir. I had dreamed happy dreams, and seen blissful visions; and the result was starvation in an open boat on the illimitable ocean. Mrs Reichardt still slept, and I would not wake her. As long as she was insensible to the dangers of her position she must exist in comparative happiness; to disturb her was to bring her back to a sense of danger and misery, and the recollection that my folly had brought her to this hopeless state. I noticed that a small cloud was making its appearance in the horizon, and almost at the same instant I observed it, I felt a breeze that was just sufficient to flap the sail against the mast. In a few minutes the cloud had greatly increased, and the wind filled the sail. I fancied it blew in a direction contrary to the current; and in the belief that it did so I soon got the boat round, and to my great joy she was presently scudding before the wind at a rate that was sensibly increasing. But the cloud presently began to envelop the heavens, and a thick darkness spread itself like a veil in every direction. The wind blew very fresh, and strained the mast to which the sail had been fixed; and now I began to entertain a new fear: some sudden gust might take the sail and capsize us, or tear it from its fastenings. I would gladly have taken in the sail, but I considered it as rather a hazardous experiment. Mrs Reichardt lay in a position that prevented my getting at it without disturbing her, or running the risk of tipping the boat over, when it would be sure to fill immediately, and sink with us both. Though we could both swim, I felt assured that if we were once in the water, there would remain very little chance of our protracting our lives beyond a few hours. The boat, therefore, continued to run before the wind at a rapid rate, the slight mast creaking, and the sail stretching so tight, I expected every minute that we should be upset. At this moment Mrs Reichardt awoke, and her quick eye immediately took in the full extent of her danger. "We shall be lost," she said hurriedly, "if we do not take in that sail!" I was fully aware of this, but she had seen more of a sailor's perils than I had, and knew better how to meet them. She offered to assist me in taking in the sail, and directing me to be very careful, we proceeded, with the assistance of the awning, to the mast, and after a good deal of labour, and at some risk of being blown into the sea, we succeeded in furling the sail, and unshipping the mast. We were now in quite as much danger from another cause--the surface of the sea, which had been so smooth during the calm, was now so violently agitated by the wind, that the boat kept ascending one great billow only to descend into the trough of another. We often went down almost perpendicularly, and the height seemed every moment increasing; and every time we went thus plunging headlong into the boiling waters, I thought we should be engulfed never to rise; nevertheless, the next minute, up we ascended on the crest of some more fearful wave than any we had hitherto encountered, and down again we plunged in the dark unfathomable abyss that, walled in by foaming mountains of water, appeared yawning to close over us for ever. It was almost entirely dark; we could see only the white foam of the wave over which we were about to pass; save this, it was black below and black above, and impenetrable darkness all around. Mrs Reichardt sat close to me with her hand in mine--she uttered no exclamations of feminine terror--she was more awe-struck than frightened. I believe that she was fully satisfied her last hour had come, for I could hear her murmuring a prayer in which she commended her soul to her Creator. I cannot say that I was in any great degree alarmed--the rapid up and down motion of the boat gave me a sensation of pleasure I had never before experienced. To say the truth, I should have greatly enjoyed being thus at the mercy of the winds and waves, in the midst of a black and stormy night on the trackless ocean, had it not been for my constant thoughts of my companion, and my bitter self-reproaches for having led her into so terrible a danger. I was now, however, called from these reflections, by the necessity of active employment. The boat I found shipped water at every plunge, and if speedy means were not taken to keep the water under, there was little doubt that she would soon fill and go down. I therefore seized the iron kettle we had brought with us to cook our dinner, and began rapidly bailing out the water, which was already over our ankles. We continued to ship water, sometimes more and sometimes less; and Mrs Reichardt, actuated no doubt by the same motives as myself, with a tin pan now assisted me in getting rid of the treacherous element. By our united exertions we kept the water under, and hoped to be able to get rid of the whole of it. About this time it began to rain very heavily, and although the awning protected our heads, so much fell into the boat, that notwithstanding our labours we continued to sit in a pool. We were, however, glad to find that as the rain fell the wind abated, and as the latter subsided, the sea became less violent, and we shipped less water. I was now able by my own exertions to keep the boat tolerably dry, and Mrs Reichardt, ever provident, spread out all the empty vessels she had brought with her to catch the rain, for as she said, we did not know how valuable that water might become in a short time. The rain continued to pour down in a perfect torrent for several hours; at the end of which the sky gradually cleared. The sea, though still rough, presented none of those mountainous waves that a short time before had threatened to annihilate us at every descent, and there was just sufficient breeze to waft us along at a brisk rate with the assistance of our sail. Mrs Reichardt helped me in putting up the mast, and directly we began to feel the breeze, she insisted on my taking some refreshment. It was vitally necessary to both, for our labours had been heavy for several hours. We therefore ate sparingly of our provisions, and washed down our meal with a pannikin of water mingled with a little spirit. Chapter XLVI The morning dawned upon a boundless expanse of sea. The first object that presented itself to my sight was an enormous whale spouting water about a quarter of a mile distant from me; then I observed another, then a third, and subsequently, several more; they presented a singular and picturesque appearance, as one or other of these vast animals was continually throwing up a column of water that caught the rays of the sun, and looked very beautiful in the distance. I looked in vain for land; I looked equally in vain for a ship; there was nothing visible but this shoal of whales, and Mrs Reichardt endeavoured to cheer me by describing the importance of the whale fishery to England, and the perils which the men meet with who pursue the fish for the purpose of wounding them with an iron instrument called a harpoon. I felt much interest in these details; and my companion went into the whole history of a whaling expedition, describing the first discovery of the huge fish from the ship; the pursuit in the boats, and the harpooning of the whale; its struggles after having been wounded; its being towed to the ship's side; the subsequent manufacture of oil from the blubber of the animal, and the preparation of whalebone. In attending to this discourse, I completely forgot that I was being tossed about in the open sea, I knew not where; and where I might be in a short time it would be proved I was equally ignorant: perhaps I should be a corpse floating on the surface of the ocean waiting for a tomb till a shark came that way; perhaps I should be suffering the torments of hunger and thirst; perhaps cast lifeless upon a rock, where my bleached bones would remain the only monument which would then declare that there once existed in these latitudes such a being as the Little Savage. Where now could be the island I, though long so anxious to quit, now was a thousand times more desirous of beholding? I felt that nothing could be more agreeable to me than a glimpse of that wild rocky coast that had so often appeared to me the walls of an intolerable prison. I strained my eyes in vain in every direction; the line of the horizon stretched out uninterrupted by a single break of any kind all around. Where could we be? I often asked myself; but except that we were on the wide ocean, neither myself nor my companion had the slightest idea of our geographical position. We must have been blown a considerable distance during the storm: much farther than the current had taken us from the island. I calculated that we must have passed it by many a mile if we had continued the same course; but the wind had shifted several times, and it might be that we were not so very long a sail from it, could we gain the slightest knowledge of the direction in which it was to be found. But this was hopeless. I felt assured that we must abandon all idea of seeing it again. In the midst of these painful reflections, my companion directed my attention to an object at a very considerable distance, and intimated her impression that it was a ship. Luckily, I had brought my glass with me, and soon was anxiously directing it to the required point. It was a ship: but at so great a distance that it was impossible, as Mrs Reichardt said, for any person on board to distinguish our boat. I would have sailed in that direction, but the wind was contrary: I had, therefore, no alternative but to wait till the ship should approach near enough to make us out; and I passed several hours of the deepest anxiety in watching the course of the distant vessel. She increased in size, so that I could observe that she was a large ship by the unassisted eye; but as we were running before the wind in a totally different direction, there seemed very little chance of our communicating, unless she altered her course. Mrs Reichardt mentioned that signals were made by vessels at a distance to attract each other's attention, and described the various ways in which they communicated the wishes of their respective captains. The only signal I had been in the habit of making was burning quantities of wood on the shore and pouring water on it to make it smoke--this was impossible in our boat. My companion at last suggested that I should tie a table-cloth to the mast; its peculiar whiteness might attract attention. The sail was presently taken in, and the table-cloth spread in its place; but, unfortunately, it soon afterwards came on a dead calm--the breeze died away, and the cloth hung in long folds against the mast. No notice whatever was taken of us. We now took to our oars and pulled in the direction of the ship; but after several hours' hard rowing, our strength had so suffered from our previous fatigues, that we seemed to have made very little distance. In a short time the sun set, and we watched the object of all our hopes with most anxious eyes, till night set in and hid her from our sight. Shortly afterwards a light breeze again sprung up; with renewed hope we gave our sail to the wind, but it bore us in a contrary direction, and when morning dawned we saw no more of the ship. The wind had now again shifted, and bore us briskly along. But where? I had fallen asleep during the preceding night, wearied out with labour and anxiety, and I did not wake till long after daybreak. Mrs Reichardt would not disturb me. In sleep I was insensible to the miseries and dangers of my position. She could not bring herself to disturb a repose that was at once so necessary to mind and body; and I fell into a sweet dream of a new home in that dear England I had prayed so often to see; and bright faces smiled upon me, and voices welcomed me, full of tenderness and affection. I fancied that in one of those faces I recognised my mother, of whose love I had so early been deprived, and that it was paler than all the others, but infinitely more tender and affectionate: then the countenance seemed to grow paler and paler, till it took upon itself the likeness of the fair creature I had buried in the guano, and I thought she embraced me, and her arms were cold as stone, and she pressed her lips to mine, and they gave a chill to my blood that made me shake as with an ague. Suddenly I beheld Jackson with his sightless orbs groping towards me with a knife in his hand, muttering imprecations, and he caught hold of me, and we had a desperate struggle, and he plunged a long knife into my chest, with a loud laugh of derision and malice; and as I felt the blade enter my flesh, I gave a start and jumped up, and alarmed Mrs Reichardt by the wild cry with which I awoke. How strongly was that dream impressed upon my mind; and the features of the different persons who figured in it--how distinctly they were brought before me! My poor mother was as fresh in my recollection as though I had seen her but yesterday, and the sweetness of her looks as she approached me--how I now tried to recall them, and feasted on their memory as though it were a lost blessing. Then the nameless corpse that had been washed from the wreck, how strange it seemed, that after this lapse of time she should appear to me in a dream, as though we had been long attached to each other, and her affections had been through life entirely my own. Poor girl! Perhaps even now some devoted lover mourns her loss; or hopes at no distant date to be able to join her in the new colony, to attain which a cruel destiny had forced her from his arms. Little does he dream of her nameless grave under the guano. Little does he dream that the only colony in which he is likely to join her is that settlement in the great desert of oblivion, over which Death has remained governor from the birth of the world. But the most unpleasant part of the vision was the appearance of Jackson; and it was a long time before I could bring myself to believe that I had not beheld his well known features--that I had not been stabbed by him, and that I was not suffering from the mortal wound he had inflicted. I however at last shook off the delusion, and to Mrs Reichardt's anxious inquiries replied only that I had had a disagreeable dream. In a short time I began to doubt whether the waking was more pleasant than the dreaming--the vast ocean still spread itself before me like a mighty winding sheet, the fair sky, beautiful as it appeared in the rays of the morning sun, I could only regard as a pall--and our little bark was the coffin in which two helpless human beings, though still existing, were waiting interment. "Has God abandoned us?" I asked my companion, "or has He forgotten that two of his creatures are in the deepest peril of their lives, from which He alone can save them?" "Hush! Frank Henniker," exclaimed Mrs Reichardt solemnly; "this is impious. God never abandons those who are worthy of His protection. He will either save them at His own appointed time--or if He think it more desirable, will snatch them from a scene where so many dangers surround them, and place them where there prevails eternal tranquillity, and everlasting bliss. "We should rather rejoice," she added, with increasing seriousness, "that we are thought worthy of being so early taken from a world in which we have met with so many troubles." "But to die in this way," I observed gloomily; "to be left to linger out days of terrible torture, without a hope of relief--I cannot reconcile myself to it." "We must die sooner or later," she said, "and there are many diseases which are fatal after protracted suffering of the most agonising description. These we have been spared. The wretch who lingers in torment, visited by some loathsome disorder, would envy us, could he see the comparatively easy manner in which we are suffered to leave existence. "But I do not myself see the hopelessness of our case," she added. "It is not yet impossible that we may be picked up by a ship, or discover some friendly shore whence we might obtain a passage for England." "I see no prospect of this," said I; "we are apparently out of the track of ships, and if it should be our chance to discover one, the people on board are not likely to observe us. I wish I had never left the island." Mrs Reichardt never reproached me--never so much as reminded me that it was my own fault. She merely added, "It was the will of God." We ate and drank our small rations--my companion always blessing the meal, and offering a thanksgiving for being permitted to enjoy it. I noticed what was left. We had been extremely economical, yet there was barely enough for another day. We determined still further to reduce the trifling portion we allowed ourselves, that we might increase our chance of escape. Chapter XLVII Five days and nights had we been drifting at the mercy of the winds and waves; all our small stock of food had been devoured--though we had hoarded every crumb, as the miser hoards his gold. Even the rain water, as well as the water we had brought with us, we had drained to the last drop. The weather continually alternated from a dead calm to a light breeze: the wind frequently shifted, but I had no strength left to attend to the sail--the boat was abandoned to its own guidance, or rather to that of the wind. When becalmed we lay still--when the breeze sprang up we pursued our course till the sail no longer felt its influence. Five long days and nights--days of intolerable suffering, nights of inexpressible horror. From sunrise to sunset I strained my eyes along the line of the horizon, but nothing but sky and wave ever met my gaze. When it became dark, excited by the deep anxiety I had endured throughout the day, I could not sleep. I fancied I beheld through the darkness monstrous forms mocking and gibbering, and high above them all was reared the head of the enormous python I had combated in the Happy Valley. And he opened his tremendous jaws, as though to swallow me, and displayed fold upon fold of his immense form as if to involve and crush the boat in its mighty involutions. I was always glad when the day dawned, or if the night happened to be fair and starlight; for the spectres vanished when the sun shone, and the tranquil beauty of the stars calmed my soul. I was famishing for want of food--but I suffered most from want of water, for the heat during the day was tremendous, and I became so frantic from thirst, that nothing but the exhortations of Mrs Reichardt would have prevented me from dashing myself into the sea, and drinking my fill of the salt water that looked so tempting and refreshing. My companion sought to encourage me to hope, long after all hope had vanished--then she preached resignation to the Divine Will, and in her own nature gave a practical commentary on her text. I perceived that her voice was getting more and more faint--and that she was becoming hourly more feeble. She was not able to move from her seat, and at last asked me to assist her to lie down at the bottom of the boat. Then I noticed that she prayed fervently, and I could often distinguish my name in these petitions to the throne of Grace. I felt a strange sensation in my head, and my tongue became in my mouth as a dry stick--from this I was relieved by chewing the sleeve of my shirt; but my head grew worse. My eyes too were affected in a strange manner. I continually fancied that I saw ships sailing about at a little distance from me, and I strove to attract their attention by calling to them. My voice was weak and I could create only a kind of half stifled cry. Then I thought I beheld land: fair forests and green pastures spread before me--bright flowers and refreshing fruits grew all around--and I called to my companion to make haste for we were running ashore and should presently be pulling the clustering grapes and should lay ourselves down among the odorous flowers. Mrs Reichardt opened her eyes and gazed at me with a more painful interest. She knew I was haunted by the chimeras created by famine and thirst; but she seemed to have lost all power of speech. She motioned me to join her in prayer; I, however, was too much occupied with the prospect of landing, and paid no attention to her signs. Presently the bright landscape faded away, and I beheld nothing but the wide expanse of water, the circle of which appeared to expand and spread into the sky, and the sky seemed lost and broken up in the water, and for a few minutes they were mixed together in the wildest and strangest confusion. Subsequently to this I must have dropt asleep, for after a while I found myself huddled up in a corner of the boat, and must have fallen there from my seat. I stared about me for some time, unconscious where I was. The bright sun still shone over my head; the everlasting sea still rolled beneath my feet. I looked to the bottom of the boat, and met the upturned gaze of my fellow voyager--the pale face had grown paler, and the expression of the painful eye had become less intelligent. I thought she was as I had seen her in my dream, when she changed from her own likeness to that of the poor drowned girl we buried in the guano. I turned away my gaze--the sight was too painful to look upon. I felt assured that she was dying, and that in a very short space of time, that faithful and affectionate nature I must part from forever. I thought I would make a last effort. Though faint and trembling, burning with fever, and feeling deadly sick, I managed by the support of the awning to crawl to the mast, and embracing it with one arm I raised the glass with the other hand, and looked carefully about. My hand was very unsteady and my eyes seemed dim. I could discern nothing but water. I should have sunk in despair to the bottom of the boat, had I not been attracted at the moment by a singular appearance in the sky. A cloud was approaching of a shape and appearance I had never observed before. I raised the glass again, and after observing this cloud for some time with great attention, I felt assured that what I considered to be long lines of vapour was an immense flock of birds. This discovery interested me--I forgot the intensity of my sufferings in observing the motions of this apparently endless flock. As the first file approached, I looked again, to see if I could make out what they were. God of heaven! They were gannets. I crawled back to my companion as rapidly as my feeble limbs would allow, to inform her of the discovery I had made. Alas! I found that I was unheeded. I could not believe that her fine spirit had fled; no, she moved her hand; but the dull spiritless gaze seemed to warn me that her dissolution was fast approaching. I looked for the spirit flask, and found a few drops were still left there; I poured these into her mouth, and watched the result with the deepest anxiety I had ever known since the day of my birth. In a few minutes I found that she breathed more regularly and distinctly--presently her eyes lost that fixedness which had made them so painful to look upon. Then she recognised me, and took hold of my hand, regarding me with the sweet smile with which I was so familiar. As soon as I found that consciousness had returned, I told her of the great flock of gannets that were evidently wending their way to their customary resting place, and the hope I entertained that if they could be kept in sight, and the wind remained in the same quarter, the boat might be led by them to the place where they laid their eggs. She listened to me with attention, and evidently understood what I said. Her lips moved, and I thought she was returning thanks to God--accepting the flight of the birds as a manifest proof that He was still watching over us. In a few minutes she seemed so much better that she could sit up. I noticed her for some time watching the gannets that now approached in one vast cloud that threatened to shut us out from the sky--she then turned her gaze in an opposite direction, and with a smile of exultation that lit up her wan face as with a glory, stretched her arm out, pointing her hand to a distant portion of the sea. My gaze quickly followed hers, and I fancied I discovered a break in the line of the horizon; but it did not look like a ship. I pointed the glass in that direction, and felt the joyful assurance that we were within sight of land. This additional discovery gave me increased strength: or rather hope now dawning upon us, gave me an impulse I had not felt before. I in my turn became the consoler. I encouraged Mrs Reichardt, with all the arguments of which I was master, to think that we should soon be in safety. She smiled, and something like animation again appeared in her pale features. If I could save her, I felt I should be blessed beyond measure. Such an object was worth striving for; and I did strive. I know not how it was that I gained strength to do what I did on that day; but I felt that I was supported from On High, and as the speck of land that she had first discovered gradually enlarged itself as we approached it, my exertions to secure a speedy rescue for my companion from the jaws of death, continued to increase. The breeze remained fair and we scudded along at a spanking rate, the gannets keeping us company all the way--evidently bound to the same shore. I kept talking to Mrs Reichardt, and endeavouring to raise her spirits with the most cheering description of what we should do when we got ashore, for God would be sure to direct us to some place where we might without difficulty recover our strength. Hitherto she had not spoken, but as soon as we began to distinguish the features of the shore we were approaching she unclosed her lips, and again the same triumphant smile played around them. "Frank Henniker, do you know that rock?" "No!--yes!--can it be possible? O what a gracious Providence has been watching over us!" It was a rock of a remarkable shape that stood a short distance from the fishing-pool. It could not be otherwise, the gannets had led us to their old haunts. We were approaching our island. I looked at my companion--she was praying. I immediately joined with her in thanks-giving for the signal mercy that had been vouchsafed to us, and in little more than an hour had the priceless satisfaction of carrying her from the shore to the cottage, and then we carefully nursed ourselves till we recovered the effects of this dreadful cruise. Chapter XLVIII My numerous pursuits, as I stated in a preceding chapter obliging me to constant occupation, kept me from useless repining about my destiny, in being obliged to live so many years on this far-distant corner of the earth, I had long ceased to look for passing ships--I scarcely ever thought about them, and had given up all speculations about my grandfather's reception of me. I rarely went out to sea, except to fish, and never cared to trouble myself about anything beyond the limited space which had become my inheritance. The reader, then, may judge of my surprise when, one sultry day, I had been busily engaged for several hours cutting down a field of wheat, Mrs Reichardt came running to me with the astounding news that there was a ship off the island, and a boat full of people had just left her, and were rowing towards the rocks. I hastily took the glass she had brought with her, and as soon as I could get to a convenient position, threw myself on the ground on the rock, and reconnoitred through the glass the appearance of the new comers. I soon noticed that a part were well armed, which was not the case with the rest, for they were pinioned in such a manner that they could scarcely move hand or foot. We concealed ourselves by lying our lengths on the grass. As the boat approached, I could discern that the unarmed party belonged to a superior class of men, while many of the others had countenances that did not prepossess me at all in their favour. We lay hid in the long grass, from which we could command a view of our approaching visitors. "I think I understand this," whispered Mrs Reichardt. "There is mischief here." "Had I not better run home and get arms?" I asked. "No," she replied, "you had better not. If we are able to do any good, we must do it by stratagem. Let us watch their movements, and act with great caution." My companion's advice was, I saw, the wisest that could be pursued; and therefore we remained in our hiding places, narrowly observing our visitors as they approached. They entered the fishing-pool, and I could then distinctly not only see but hear them. To my extreme surprise, one of the first men who jumped out of the boat was John Gough, who had brought Mrs Reichardt to the island. He looked older, but I recognised him in a moment, and so did my companion. Her admonitory "Hush!" kept me from betraying the place of our concealment--so great was my astonishment--having long believed him and all his lawless associates to have been lost at sea. He was well armed, and evidently possessed some authority; nevertheless, I thought I could detect an air of concern in his features, as he offered to help one of the captives out of the boat. The latter, however, regarded him with an air of disdain, and, though his hands were tied behind him, leaped ashore without assistance. He was a man of commanding stature, with a well bronzed face, and a look of great energy of character. He wore a band of gold lace round his cap, and had on duck trousers, and a blue jacket and waistcoat. "Come, captain!" exclaimed John Gough, "I bear you no malice. Though you have been rather hard upon us, we won't leave you to starve." "He's a deuced deal better off than he desarves to be," cried a man from the boat, whom I at once recognised as the fellow on whom I had drawn my knife for hurting Nero. "If we had made him walk the plank, as I proposed, I'm blowed if it wouldn't have been much more to the purpose than putting him on this here island, with lots o' prog, and everything calkilated to make him and his domineering officers comfortable for the rest of their days." "Hold your tongue, you mutineering rascal," exclaimed the captain angrily. "A rope's end at the yard-arm will be your deserts before long." "Thank ye kindly, captain," replied the fellow, touching his hat in mockery. "But you must be pleased to remember I ain't caught yet; and we means to have many a jolly cruise in your ship, and get no end o' treasure, before I shall think o' my latter end; and then I means to die like a Christian, and repent o' my sins, and make a much more edifying example than I should exhibit dangling at the end of a rope." The men laughed, the captain muttered something about "pirates and mutineers," but the rest of the officers wisely held their tongues. I now noticed an elderly man of very respectable appearance, who was not pinioned like the rest. His hair was quite white, his complexion very pale, and he looked like one oppressed with deep sorrow and anxiety. He rose from his seat in the boat, and was assisted out by John Gough. "I'm very sorry that we are obliged to leave you here, Mr Evelyn," said Gough, "but you see, sir, we have no alternative. We couldn't keep you with us, for many reasons; and therefore we have been obliged to make you a sharer in the fate of our officers." "And werry painful this is to our feelings, sir, you may believe," said another of the mutineers mockingly. "I'm quite moloncholy as I thinks on it." The men again laughed; but the person so addressed walked to the side of the captain without making any observation. The other captives also left the boat in silence. They were eight in all, but four of them were evidently common seamen by their dress--the others were officers. All were well-made, strong men. "What a precious pretty colony you'll make, my hearties!" exclaimed one of the mutineers, jeeringly, as he helped to land a cask, and some other packages, that they had brought with them. "It's a thousand pities you ain't got no female associates, that you might marry, and settle, and bring up respectable families." "Talking of women," cried the one who had first spoken, "I wonder what became of the one we left here so cleverly when we was wrecked at this here place six years ago." John Gough looked uneasy at this inquiry, as if the recollection was not agreeable to him. "And the Little Savage," continued the fellow, "what was agoing to send his knife into my ribs for summat or other--I forget what. They must have died long ago, I ain't no doubt, as we unfortnitely left 'em nothin' to live upon." "No doubt they died hand in hand, like the Babes in the Wood," said another. I still observed John Gough; he seemed distressed at the turn the conversation had taken. "Now, mates," he said hurriedly, "let us return to the ship. We have done what we came to do." "I votes as we shall go and see arter the Missionary's woman and the Little Savage," cried the fourth. "I should like, somehow, to see whether they be living or not, and a stroll ashore won't do any on us any harm." "I shall remain here till you return," said John Gough; and he threw himself on the grass with his back towards me, and only a few yards from the place in which we were concealed. The rest, after making fast the boat, started off on an exploring expedition, in the direction of the old hut. Chapter XLIX The captives were grouped together, some sitting, and some standing. Not one of them looked dejected at his fate; though I could see by their movements that they were impatient of the bonds that tied them. My attention was most frequently directed to the old gentleman who had been addressed as Mr Evelyn. Notwithstanding the grief expressed in his countenance, it possessed an air of benevolence and kindness of heart that even his settled melancholy did not conceal. I could not understand why, but I felt a deeper interest for this person than for any of the others--a sort of yearning towards him, mingled with a desire to protect him from the malice of his enemies. Almost as soon as they were gone, John Gough beckoned to Mr Evelyn to sit down by his side. Possibly this was done to prevent his assisting his companions to regain their liberty, as he, not being pinioned like the rest, might easily have done, and they might have overpowered their guard before his companions could come to his assistance. But Gough was well armed, and the rest being without weapons of any kind, it was scarcely probable that they would have risked their lives in so desperate an attempt. Mr Evelyn came and quietly sat himself down in the place indicated. I observed him with increasing interest, and singular to relate, the more I gazed on his venerable face, the more strongly I felt assured that I had seen it before. This of course was impossible, nevertheless, the fancy took possession of me, and I experienced a strange sensation of pleasure as I watched the changes his features underwent. "John Gough, I am sorry to see you mixed up in this miserable business," said he, mildly addressing his companion. The other did not answer, and as his back was turned towards me I could not observe the effect the observation had upon him. "The men who have left us I know to be bad men," continued the speaker; "I expect nothing but wickedness from them. But you I am aware have been better brought up. Your responsibility therefore becomes the greater in assisting them in their villainy." "You had better not let them hear you, Mr Evelyn," replied Gough, at last, in something like a surly tone; "I would not answer for the consequences." "Those I do not fear," the other answered. "The results of this transaction can make very little difference to a man on the verge of the grave, who has outlived all his relatives, and has nothing left to fall back upon but the memory of his misfortunes: but to one in the prime of life like yourself, who can boast of friends and relatives who feel an interest in your good name, these results must be serious indeed. What must be the feelings of your respectable father when he learns that you have joined a gang of pirates; how intense must be the grief of your amiable mother when she hears that you have paid the penalty that must sooner or later overtake you for embracing so lawless a life." "Come, Mr Evelyn," exclaimed Gough, though with a tremulousness in his voice that betrayed the state of his feelings, "you have no right to preach to me. I have done as much as I could for you all. The men would have made short work with you, if I had not interposed, and pointed out to them this uninhabited island." "Where it seems you left a poor woman to be starved to death," continued Mr Evelyn. "It was no fault of mine," replied the man; "I did all I could to prevent it." "It would have been more manly if you had remained with her on this rock, and left your cowardly associates to take their selfish course. But you are weak and irresolute, John Gough; too easily persuaded into evil, too slow to follow the impulses of good. The murder of that poor woman is as much your deed as if you had blown her brains out before you abandoned her. Indeed I do not know but what the latter would have been the less criminal." John Gough made no answer. I do not think, however, his mind was quite easy under this accusation, for he seemed restless, and kept playing with his pistols, with his eyes cast down. "Your complicity in this mutiny, too, John Gough, is equally inexcusable," continued Mr Evelyn. "It was your duty to have stood by Captain Manvers and his officers, by which you would have earned their eternal gratitude, and a handsome provision from the owners of the vessel." "It's no use talking of these things now, Mr Evelyn," said Gough, hurriedly. "I have taken my course. It is too late to turn back. Would to God," he added, dashing his hand violently against his brow, "I had had nothing to do with it." "It is never too late, John Gough, to do good," here cried out Mrs Reichardt, as she rose from her place of concealment, as much to my surprise as that of all who could observe her. But nothing could equal the astonishment of Gough when he first caught sight of her features;--he sprang to his feet, leaving his pistols on the ground, and clasping his hands together, exclaimed, "Thank God, she is safe!" "Yes," she replied, approaching him and taking his hand kindly. "By an interposition of Providence, you are saved from the guilt of one murder. In the name of that God who has so signally preserved you against yourself, I command you to abandon your present wicked designs." The man hesitated, but it seemed as if he could not take his gaze from her face, and it was evident that her presence exerted an extraordinary influence over him. In the meantime I had made my appearance on the scene, not less to the astonishment of the lookers-on; and my first act was to take possession of the pair of pistols that Gough had left on the ground; my next to hurry to the group of captives, who had been regarding us, in a state as it were of perfect bewilderment, and with my American knife to cut their bonds. "I will do whatever you think proper," said John Gough. "Believe me I have been reluctantly led into this, and joined the mutiny knowing that I should have been murdered if I did not." "You must endeavour to make what amends are in your power," continued Mrs Reichardt, "by assisting your officers in recovering possession of the ship." "I will gladly assist in whatever they may think feasible," said the man. "But we must first secure the desperate fellows who have just left us, and as we are but poorly provided with weapons, that of itself will be a service of no slight danger. To get possession of the ship I am afraid will be still more hazardous; but you shall find me in the front of every danger." Here Captain Manvers and the others came up to where John Gough and Mrs Reichardt were conversing; he heard Gough's last speech, and he was going to say something, when I interposed by stating that there was no time now for explanations, for in a few minutes the fellows who had gone to the hut would return, and the only way to prepare for them was for the whole party to go to our house, to which Mrs Reichardt would lead them, where they would find plenty of arms and ammunition. In the meantime I would keep watch, and observe their motions, and by firing one of the pistols would signal to them if I was in any danger. Lastly, I recommended that the oars should be removed from the boat, to prevent the mutineers making their escape to the ship. My appearance and discourse attracted general attention. I particularly noticed that Mr Evelyn started as soon as he caught sight of me, and appeared to observe me with singular carefulness; but that, no doubt, arose from my unexpected address, and the strange way in which I had presented myself before him. The Captain approving of my proposal, the whole party, after taking away the boat's oars, moved off rapidly in the direction of the house. I again concealed myself in the grass, and waited the return of the mutineers. They did not remain away long. I could hear them approaching, for they laughed and shouted as they went along loud enough to be heard at a considerable distance. When they began to descend the rocks, they passed so close to me, that I could hear every word that was spoken. "Well, flesh is grass, as the parson says," said Jack; "they must have died sooner or later, if we hadn't parted company with so little ceremony. But, hallo! my eyes and limbs! Where's John Gough? Where's the captain? Where's all on 'em?" It is impossible to express the astonishment of the men on reaching the spot where they had so lately left their prisoners, and discovering that not a trace of them was to be seen. At first they imagined that they had escaped in the boat, but as soon as they saw that the boat was safe, they gave up that idea. Then they fancied John Gough had taken the prisoners to stroll a little distance inland, and they began to shout as loud as their lungs would permit them. Receiving no response, they uttered many strange ejaculations, which I could not then understand, but which I have since learned were profane oaths; and seemed at a loss what to do, whether to wander about the island in search of them, or return to their ship. Only one chanced to be for the former, and the others overruled him, not thinking it was worth their while to take so much trouble as to go rambling about in a strange place. They seemed bent on taking to the boat, when one of them suggested they might get into a scrape if they returned without their companion. They finally resolved on sitting down and waiting his return. Presently, one complained he was very sleepy, as he had been too busy mutineering to turn into his hammock the previous night, and the others acknowledged they also felt an equal want of rest from the same cause. Each began to yawn. They laid themselves at their full length along the grass, and in a short time I could hear by their snoring, as Jackson used to do, that they were asleep. I now crept stealthily towards them on my hands and knees, and they were in such a profound sleep, that I had no difficulty whatever in removing the pistols from their belts. I had just succeeded in this, when I beheld the captain, and John Gough, and Mr Evelyn, and all the rest of them, well armed with guns and pistols, approaching the place where we were. In a few minutes afterwards the mutineers were made prisoners, without their having an opportunity of making the slightest resistance. I was much complimented by the captain for the dexterity with which I had disarmed them; but while I was in conversation with him, it is impossible to express the surprise I felt, on seeing Mr Evelyn suddenly rush towards me from the side of Mrs Reichardt, with whom he had been talking, and, embracing me with the most moving demonstrations of affection, claim me as his grandson. The mystery was soon explained. Mr Evelyn had met so many losses in business as a merchant, that he took the opportunity of a son of his old clerk--who had become a captain of a fine ship, employed in the South American trade--being about to proceed on a trading voyage to that part of the world, to sail in his vessel with a consignment of goods for the South American market. He had also another object, which was to inquire after the fate of his long-lost daughter and son-in-law, of whom he had received no certain intelligence, since the latter took ship with the diamonds he had purchased to return home. The vessel in which they sailed had never been heard of since; and Mr Evelyn had long given up all hopes of seeing either of them again, or the valuable property with which they had been entrusted. On their going to the house, he had asked Mrs Reichardt my name, stating that I so strongly resembled a very dear friend of his, he believed had perished many years ago, that he felt quite an interest in me. The answer he received led to a series of the most earnest inquiries, and Mrs Reichardt satisfied him on every point, showed him all the property that had formerly been in the possession of Mrs Henniker and her husband: related Jackson's story, and convinced him, that though he had lost the daughter for whom he had mourned so long, her representative existed in the Little Savage, who was saving him from the fate for which he had been preserved by the mutineers. I have only to add, that I had the happiness of restoring to my grandfather the diamonds I had obtained from Jackson, which were no doubt very welcome to him, for they not only restored him to affluence, but made him one of the richest merchants upon Change. I was also instrumental in obtaining for the captain the command of his ship, and of restoring discipline amongst the crew. The ringleaders of the mutiny were thrown into irons, and taken home for trial; this resulted in one or two of them being hanged by way of example, and these happened to be the men who so barbarously deserted Mrs Reichardt. She accompanied me to England in Captain Manvers's vessel, for when he heard of the obligations I owed her, my grandfather decided that she should remain with us as long as she lived. We however did not leave the island until we had shown my grandfather, the captain, and his officers, what we had effected during our stay, and every one was surprised that we could have produced a flourishing farm upon a barren rock. I did not fail to show the places where I had had my fight with the python, and where I had been pursued by the sharks, and my narrative of both incidents seemed to astonish my hearers exceedingly. I must not forget to add, that the day before our departure, John Gough came to me privately, and requested my good offices with the captain, that he might be left on the island. He had become a very different character to what he had previously been; and as there could be no question that the repentance he assumed was sincere, I said all I could for him. My recommendation was successful, and I transferred to John Gough all my farm, farming stock, and agricultural implements; moreover, promised to send him whatever he might further require to make his position comfortable. He expressed great gratitude, but desired nothing; only that his family might know that he was well off, and was not likely to return. Perhaps John Gough did not like the risk he ran of being tried for mutiny, or was averse to sailing with his former comrades; but whatever was the cause of his resolution, it is certain that he remained behind when the ship left the island, and may be there to this hour for all I know to the contrary. We made a quick voyage to England, and as my readers will no doubt be glad to hear, the Little Savage landed safely at Plymouth, and was soon cordially welcomed to his grandfather's house in London. THE END. 
7124	----	THE CORAL ISLAND _A Tale Of The Pacific Ocean_ BY R. M. BALLANTYNE PREFACE I was a boy when I went through the wonderful adventures herein set down. With the memory of my boyish feelings strong upon me, I present my book specially to boys, in the earnest hope that they may derive valuable information, much pleasure, great profit, and unbounded amusement from its pages. One word more. If there is any boy or man who loves to be melancholy and morose, and who cannot enter with kindly sympathy into the regions of fun, let me seriously advise him to shut my book and put it away. It is not meant for him. RALPH ROVER. CONTENTS CHAP. I. MY EARLY LIFE AND CHARACTER II. THE DEPARTURE--A DREADFUL STORM III. THE CORAL ISLAND IV. OUR ISLAND DESCRIBED--CURIOUS DISCOVERIES V. ENCHANTING EXCURSIONS AMONG THE CORAL GROVES VI. AN EXCURSION INTO THE INTERIOR VII. HORRIBLE ENCOUNTER WITH A SHARK VIII. THE BEAUTIES OF THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA TEMPT PETERKIN TO DIVE IX. PREPARE FOR A JOURNEY ROUND THE ISLAND X. MAKE DISCOVERY OF MANY EXCELLENT ROOTS AND FRUITS XI. EFFECTS OF OVER-EATING, AND REFLECTIONS THEREON XII. SOMETHING WRONG WITH THE TANK XIII. NOTABLE DISCOVERY AT THE SPOUTING CLIFFS XIV. STRANGE PECULIARITY OF THE TIDES XV. BOAT-BUILDING EXTRAORDINARY XVI. THE BOAT LAUNCHED--WE VISIT THE CORAL REEF XVII. A MONSTER WAVE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES XVIII. AN AWFUL STORM AND ITS CONSEQUENCES XVIX. AN UNEXPECTED VISIT AND AN APPALLING BATTLE XX. INTERCOURSE WITH THE SAVAGES--CANNIBALISM PREVENTED XXI. A SAIL!--AN UNEXPECTED SALUTE XXII. I FALL INTO THE HANDS OF PIRATES XXIII. A STRANGE SAIL, AND A STRANGE CREW XXIV. UNPLEASANT PROSPECTS XXV. THE SANDAL-WOOD PARTY XXVI. MISCHIEF BREWING--MY BLOOD IS MADE TO RUN COLD XXVII. REFLECTIONS--THE WOUNDED MAN XXVIII. ALONE ON THE DEEP--NECESSITY THE MOTHER OF INVENTION XXIX. THE EFFECT OF A CANNON-SHOT XXX. THE VOYAGE XXXI. A STRANGE AND BLOODY BATTLE XXXII. AN UNEXPECTED DISCOVERY XXXIII. THE FLIGHT--THE PURSUIT XXXIV. IMPRISONMENT--SINKING HOPES XXXV. CONCLUSION THE CORAL ISLAND Chapter I The beginning--My early life and character--I thirst for adventure in foreign lands, and go to sea. Roving has always been, and still is, my ruling passion, the joy of my heart, the very sunshine of my existence. In childhood, in boyhood, and in man's estate, I have been a rover; not a mere rambler among the woody glens and upon the hilltops of my own native land, but an enthusiastic rover throughout the length and breadth of the wide, wide world. It was a wild, black night of howling storm, the night on which I was born on the foaming bosom of the broad Atlantic Ocean. My father was a sea-captain; my grandfather was a sea-captain; my great-grandfather had been a marine. Nobody could tell positively what occupation _his_ father had followed; but my dear mother used to assert that he had been a midshipman, whose grandfather, on the mother's side, had been an admiral in the Royal Navy. At any rate, we knew that, as far back as our family could be traced, it had been intimately connected with the great watery waste. Indeed, this was the case on both sides of the house; for my mother always went to sea with my father on his long voyages, and so spent the greater part of her life upon the water. Thus it was, I suppose, that I came to inherit a roving disposition. Soon after I was born, my father, being old, retired from a seafaring life, purchased a small cottage in a fishing village on the west coast of England, and settled down to spend the evening of his life on the shores of that sea which had for so many years been his home. It was not long after this that I began to show the roving spirit that dwelt within me. For some time past my infant legs had been gaining strength, so that I came to be dissatisfied with rubbing the skin off my chubby knees by walking on them, and made many attempts to stand up and walk like a man, all of which attempts, however, resulted in my sitting down violently and in sudden surprise. One day I took advantage of my dear mother's absence to make another effort; and, to my joy, I actually succeeded in reaching the doorstep, over which I tumbled into a pool of muddy water that lay before my father's cottage door. Ah, how vividly I remember the horror of my poor mother when she found me sweltering in the mud amongst a group of cackling ducks, and the tenderness with which she stripped off my dripping clothes and washed my dirty little body! From this time forth my rambles became more frequent, and, as I grew older, more distant, until at last I had wandered far and near on the shore and in the woods around our humble dwelling, and did not rest content until my father bound me apprentice to a coasting vessel, and let me go to sea. For some years I was happy in visiting the seaports, and in coasting along the shores of my native land. My Christian name was Ralph, and my comrades added to this the name of Rover, in consequence of the passion which I always evinced for travelling. Rover was not my real name, but as I never received any other, I came at last to answer to it as naturally as to my proper name; and as it is not a bad one, I see no good reason why I should not introduce myself to the reader as Ralph Rover. My shipmates were kind, good-natured fellows, and they and I got on very well together. They did, indeed, very frequently make game of and banter me, but not unkindly; and I overheard them sometimes saying that Ralph Rover was a "queer, old-fashioned fellow." This, I must confess, surprised me much, and I pondered the saying long, but could come at no satisfactory conclusion as to that wherein my old-fashionedness lay. It is true I was a quiet lad, and seldom spoke except when spoken to. Moreover, I never could understand the jokes of my companions, even when they were explained to me: which dulness in apprehension occasioned me much grief. However, I tried to make up for it by smiling and looking pleased when I observed that they were laughing at some witticism which I had failed to detect. I was also very fond of inquiring into the nature of things and their causes, and often fell into fits of abstraction while thus engaged in my mind. But in all this I saw nothing that did not seem to be exceedingly natural, and could by no means understand why my comrades should call me "an old-fashioned fellow." Now, while engaged in the coasting trade, I fell in with many seamen who had travelled to almost every quarter of the globe; and I freely confess that my heart glowed ardently within me as they recounted their wild adventures in foreign lands--the dreadful storms they had weathered, the appalling dangers they had escaped, the wonderful creatures they had seen both on the land and in the sea, and the interesting lands and strange people they had visited. But of all the places of which they told me, none captivated and charmed my imagination so much as the Coral Islands of the Southern Seas. They told me of thousands of beautiful, fertile islands that had been formed by a small creature called the coral insect, where summer reigned nearly all the year round; where the trees were laden with a constant harvest of luxuriant fruit; where the climate was almost perpetually delightful; yet where, strange to say, men were wild, bloodthirsty savages, excepting in those favoured isles to which the Gospel of our Saviour had been conveyed. These exciting accounts had so great an effect upon my mind that, when I reached the age of fifteen, I resolved to make a voyage to the South Seas. I had no little difficulty at first in prevailing on my dear parents to let me go; but when I urged on my father that he would never have become a great captain had he remained in the coasting trade, he saw the truth of what I said, and gave his consent. My dear mother, seeing that my father had made up his mind, no longer offered opposition to my wishes. "But oh, Ralph," she said, on the day I bade her adieu, "come back soon to us, my dear boy, for we are getting old now, Ralph, and may not have many years to live." I will not take up my readers' time with a minute account of all that occurred before I took my final leave of my dear parents. Suffice it to say that my father placed me under the charge of an old messmate of his own, a merchant captain, who was on the point of sailing to the South Seas in his own ship, the _Arrow_. My mother gave me her blessing and a small Bible; and her last request was that I would never forget to read a chapter every day, and say my prayers; which I promised, with tears in my eyes, that I would certainly do. Soon afterwards, I went on board the _Arrow_, which was a fine large ship, and set sail for the islands of the Pacific Ocean. Chapter II The departure--The sea--My companions--Some account of the wonderful sights we saw on the great deep--A dreadful storm and a frightful wreck. It was a bright, beautiful, warm day when our ship spread her canvas to the breeze, and sailed for the regions of the south. Oh, how my heart bounded with delight as I listened to the merry chorus of the sailors, while they hauled at the ropes and got in the anchor! The captain shouted; the men ran to obey; the noble ship bent over to the breeze, and the shore gradually faded from my view, while I stood looking on with a kind of feeling that the whole was a delightful dream. The first thing that struck me as being different from anything I had yet seen during my short career on the sea, was the hoisting of the anchor on deck and lashing it firmly down with ropes, as if we had now bid adieu to the land for ever, and would require its services no more. "There, lass," cried a broad-shouldered jack-tar, giving the fluke of the anchor a hearty slap with his hand after the housing was completed--"there, lass, take a good nap now, for we shan't ask you to kiss the mud again for many a long day to come!" And so it was. That anchor did not "kiss the mud" for many long days afterwards; and when at last it did, it was for the last time! There were a number of boys in the ship, but two of them were my special favourites. Jack Martin was a tall, strapping, broad-shouldered youth of eighteen, with a handsome, good-humoured, firm face. He had had a good education, was clever and hearty and lion-like in his actions, but mild and quiet in disposition. Jack was a general favourite, and had a peculiar fondness for me. My other companion was Peterkin Gay. He was little, quick, funny, decidedly mischievous, and about fourteen years old. But Peterkin's mischief was almost always harmless, else he could not have been so much beloved as he was. "Hallo, youngster!" cried Jack Martin, giving me a slap on the shoulder the day I joined the ship, "come below, and I'll show you your berth. You and I are to be messmates, and I think we shall be good friends, for I like the look o' you." Jack was right. He and I, and Peterkin afterwards, became the best and staunchest friends that ever tossed together on the stormy waves. I shall say little about the first part of our voyage. We had the usual amount of rough weather and calm; also we saw many strange fish rolling in the sea, and I was greatly delighted one day by seeing a shoal of flying-fish dart out of the water and skim through the air about a foot above the surface. They were pursued by dolphins, which feed on them, and one flying-fish in its terror flew over the ship, struck on the rigging, and fell upon the deck. Its wings were just fins elongated, and we found that they could never fly far at a time, and never mounted into the air like birds, but skimmed along the surface of the sea. Jack and I had it for dinner, and found it remarkably good. When we approached Cape Horn, at the southern extremity of America, the weather became very cold and stormy, and the sailors began to tell stories about the furious gales and the dangers of that terrible Cape. "Cape Horn," said one, "is the most horrible headland I ever doubled. I've sailed round it twice already, and both times the ship was a'most blow'd out o' the water." "I've been round it once," said another, "an' that time the sails were split, and the ropes frozen in the blocks, so that they wouldn't work, and we wos all but lost." "An' I've been round it five times," cried a third, "an' every time wos wuss than another, the gales wos so tree-mendous!" "And I've been round it no times at all," cried Peterkin, with an impudent wink in his eye, "an' _that_ time I wos blow'd inside out!" Nevertheless, we passed the dreaded Cape without much rough weather, and, in the course of a few weeks afterwards, were sailing gently before a warm, tropical breeze over the Pacific Ocean. Thus we proceeded on our voyage, sometimes bounding merrily before a fair breeze, at other times floating calmly on the glassy wave and fishing for the curious inhabitants of the deep--all of which, although the sailors thought little of them, were strange, and interesting, and very wonderful to me. At last we came among the Coral Islands of the Pacific, and I shall never forget the delight with which I gazed--when we chanced to pass one--at the pure, white, dazzling shores, and the verdant palm trees, which looked bright and beautiful in the sunshine. And often did we three long to be landed on one, imagining that we should certainly find perfect happiness there! Our wish was granted sooner than we expected. One night, soon after we entered the tropics, an awful storm burst upon our ship. The first squall of wind carried away two of our masts, and left only the foremast standing. Even this, however, was more than enough, for we did not dare to hoist a rag of sail on it. For five days the tempest raged in all its fury. Everything was swept off the decks except one small boat. The steersman was lashed to the wheel, lest he should be washed away, and we all gave ourselves up for lost. The captain said that he had no idea where we were, as we had been blown far out of our course; and we feared much that we might get among the dangerous coral reefs which are so numerous in the Pacific. At daybreak on the sixth morning of the gale we saw land ahead. It was an island encircled by a reef of coral on which the waves broke in fury. There was calm water within this reef, but we could see only one narrow opening into it. For this opening we steered, but ere we reached it a tremendous wave broke on our stern, tore the rudder completely off, and left us at the mercy of the winds and waves. "It's all over with us now, lads!" said the captain to the men. "Get the boat ready to launch; we shall be on the rocks in less than half-an-hour." The men obeyed in gloomy silence, for they felt that there was little hope of so small a boat living in such a sea. "Come, boys," said Jack Martin, in a grave tone, to me and Peterkin, as we stood on the quarter-deck awaiting our fate--"come, boys; we three shall stick together. You see it is impossible that the little boat can reach the shore, crowded with men. It will be sure to upset, so I mean rather to trust myself to a large oar. I see through the telescope that the ship will strike at the tail of the reef, where the waves break into the quiet water inside; so, if we manage to cling to the oar till it is driven over the breakers, we may perhaps gain the shore. What say you? will you join me?" We gladly agreed to follow Jack, for he inspired us with confidence, although I could perceive, by the sad tone of his voice, that he had little hope; and, indeed, when I looked at the white waves that lashed the reef and boiled against the rocks as if in fury, I felt that there was but a step between us and death. My heart sank within me; but at that moment my thoughts turned to my beloved mother, and I remembered those words, which were among the last that she said to me: "Ralph, my dearest child, always remember in the hour of danger to look to your Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. He alone is both able and willing to save your body and your soul." So I felt much comforted when I thought thereon. The ship was now very near the rocks. The men were ready with the boat, and the captain beside them giving orders, when a tremendous wave came towards us. We three ran towards the bow to lay hold of our oar, and had barely reached it when the wave fell on the deck with a crash like thunder. At the same moment the ship struck, the foremast broke off close to the deck and went over the side, carrying the boat and men along with it. Our oar got entangled with the wreck, and Jack seized an axe to cut it free, but, owing to the motion of the ship, he missed the cordage and struck the axe deep into the oar. Another wave, however, washed it clear of the wreck. We all seized hold of it, and the next instant we were struggling in the wild sea. The last thing I saw was the boat whirling in the surf, and all the sailors tossed into the foaming waves. Then I became insensible. On recovering from my swoon, I found myself lying on a bank of soft grass, under shelter of an overhanging rock, with Peterkin on his knees by my side, tenderly bathing my temples with water, and endeavouring to stop the blood that flowed from a wound in my forehead. Chapter III The Coral Island--Our first cogitations after landing, and the result of them--We conclude that the island is uninhabited. There is a strange and peculiar sensation experienced in recovering from a state of insensibility, which is almost indescribable: a sort of dreamy, confused consciousness; a half-waking, half-sleeping condition, accompanied with a feeling of weariness, which, however, is by no means disagreeable. As I slowly recovered, and heard the voice of Peterkin inquiring whether I felt better, I thought that I must have overslept myself, and should be sent to the mast-head for being lazy; but before I could leap up in haste, the thought seemed to vanish suddenly away, and I fancied that I must have been ill. Then a balmy breeze fanned my cheek, and I thought of home, and the garden at the back of my father's cottage, with its luxuriant flowers, and the sweet-scented honeysuckle that my dear mother trained so carefully upon the trellised porch. But the roaring of the surf put these delightful thoughts to flight, and I was back again at sea, watching the dolphins and the flying-fish, and reefing topsails off the wild and stormy Cape Horn. Gradually the roar of the surf became louder and more distinct. I thought of being wrecked far, far away from my native land, and slowly opened my eyes to meet those of my companion Jack, who, with a look of intense anxiety, was gazing into my face. "Speak to us, my dear Ralph," whispered Jack tenderly. "Are you better now?" I smiled, and looked up, saying, "Better! why, what do you mean, Jack? I'm quite well." "Then what are you shamming for, and frightening us in this way?" said Peterkin, smiling through his tears; for the poor boy had been really under the impression that I was dying. I now raised myself on my elbow, and putting my hand to my forehead, found that it had been cut pretty severely, and that I had lost a good deal of blood. "Come, come, Ralph," said Jack, pressing me gently backward, "lie down, my boy; you're not right yet. Wet your lips with this water; it's cool and clear as crystal. I got it from a spring close at hand. There now, don't say a word, hold your tongue," he said, seeing me about to speak. "I'll tell you all about it, but you must not utter a syllable till you have rested well." "Oh! don't stop him from speaking, Jack," said Peterkin, who, now that his fears for my safety were removed, busied himself in erecting a shelter of broken branches in order to protect me from the wind, which, however, was almost unnecessary, for the rock beside which I had been laid completely broke the force of the gale. "Let him speak, Jack; it's a comfort to hear that he's alive, after lying there stiff and white and sulky for a whole hour, just like an Egyptian mummy. Never saw such a fellow as you are, Ralph, always up to mischief. You've almost knocked out all my teeth, and more than half choked me, and now you go shamming dead! It's very wicked of you, indeed it is." While Peterkin ran on in this style, my faculties became quite clear again, and I began to understand my position. "What do you mean by saying I half choked you, Peterkin?" said I. "What do I mean? Is English not your mother-tongue, or do you want me to repeat it in French, by way of making it clearer? Don't you remember----" "I remember nothing," said I, interrupting him, "after we were thrown into the sea." "Hush, Peterkin!" said Jack; "you're exciting Ralph with your nonsense.--I'll explain it to you. You recollect that after the ship struck, we three sprang over the bow into the sea: well, I noticed that the oar struck your head and gave you that cut on the brow, which nearly stunned you, so that you grasped Peterkin round the neck without knowing apparently what you were about. In doing so you pushed the telescope--which you clung to as if it had been your life--against Peterkin's mouth----" "Pushed it against his mouth!" interrupted Peterkin; "say, crammed it down his throat. Why, there's a distinct mark of the brass rim on the back of my gullet at this moment!" "Well, well, be that as it may," continued Jack, "you clung to him, Ralph, till I feared you really would choke him; but I saw that he had a good hold of the oar, so I exerted myself to the utmost to push you towards the shore, which we luckily reached without much trouble, for the water inside the reef is quite calm." "But the captain and crew, what of them?" I inquired anxiously. Jack shook his head. "Are they lost?" "No, they are not lost, I hope, but I fear there is not much chance of their being saved. The ship struck at the very tail of the island on which we are cast. When the boat was tossed into the sea it fortunately did not upset, although it shipped a good deal of water, and all the men managed to scramble into it; but before they could get the oars out the gale carried them past the point and away to leeward of the island. After we landed I saw them endeavouring to pull towards us; but as they had only one pair of oars out of the eight that belong to the boat, and as the wind was blowing right in their teeth, they gradually lost ground. Then I saw them put about and hoist some sort of sail--a blanket, I fancy, for it was too small for the boat--and in half-an-hour they were out of sight." "Poor fellows!" I murmured sorrowfully. "But the more I think about it, I've better hope of them," continued Jack, in a more cheerful tone. "You see, Ralph, I've read a great deal about these South Sea Islands, and I know that in many places they are scattered about in thousands over the sea, so they're almost sure to fall in with one of them before long." "I'm sure I hope so," said Peterkin earnestly. "But what has become of the wreck, Jack? I saw you clambering up the rocks there while I was watching Ralph. Did you say she had gone to pieces?" "No, she has not gone to pieces, but she has gone to the bottom," replied Jack. "As I said before, she struck on the tail of the island and stove in her bow, but the next breaker swung her clear, and she floated away to leeward. The poor fellows in the boat made a hard struggle to reach her, but long before they came near her she filled and went down. It was after she foundered that I saw them trying to pull to the island." There was a long silence after Jack ceased speaking, and I have no doubt that each was revolving in his mind our extraordinary position. For my part, I cannot say that my reflections were very agreeable. I knew that we were on an island, for Jack had said so, but whether it was inhabited or not I did not know. If it should be inhabited, I felt certain, from all I had heard of South Sea Islanders, that we should be roasted alive and eaten. If it should turn out to be uninhabited, I fancied that we should be starved to death. "Oh," thought I, "if the ship had only struck on the rocks we might have done pretty well, for we could have obtained provisions from her, and tools to enable us to build a shelter; but now--alas! alas! we are lost!" These last words I uttered aloud in my distress. "Lost! Ralph?" exclaimed Jack, while a smile overspread his hearty countenance. "Saved, you should have said. Your cogitations seem to have taken a wrong road, and led you to a wrong conclusion." "Do you know what conclusion _I_ have come to?" said Peterkin. "I have made up my mind that it's capital--first-rate--the best thing that ever happened to us, and the most splendid prospect that ever lay before three jolly young tars. We've got an island all to ourselves. We'll take possession in the name of the king; we'll go and enter the service of its black inhabitants. Of course we'll rise, naturally, to the top of affairs. White men always do in savage countries. You shall be king, Jack; Ralph, prime minister; and I shall be----" "The court-jester," interrupted Jack. "No," retorted Peterkin; "I'll have no title at all. I shall merely accept a highly responsible situation under government; for you see, Jack, I'm fond of having an enormous salary and nothing to do." "But suppose there are no natives?" "Then we'll build a charming villa, and plant a lovely garden round it, stuck all full of the most splendiferous tropical flowers, and we'll farm the land, plant, sow, reap, eat, sleep, and be merry." "But to be serious," said Jack, assuming a grave expression of countenance, which I observed always had the effect of checking Peterkin's disposition to make fun of everything, "we are really in rather an uncomfortable position. If this is a desert island, we shall have to live very much like the wild beasts, for we have not a tool of any kind, not even a knife." "Yes, we have _that_," said Peterkin, fumbling in his trousers pocket, from which he drew forth a small penknife with only one blade, and that was broken. "Well, that's better than nothing. But come," said Jack, rising; "we are wasting our time in _talking_ instead of _doing_.--You seem well enough to walk now, Ralph. Let us see what we have got in our pockets, and then let us climb some hill and ascertain what sort of island we have been cast upon, for, whether good or bad, it seems likely to be our home for some time to come." Chapter IV We examine into our personal property, and make a happy discovery--Our island described--Jack proves himself to be learned and sagacious above his fellows--Curious discoveries--Natural lemonade! We now seated ourselves upon a rock, and began to examine into our personal property. When we reached the shore, after being wrecked, my companions had taken off part of their clothes and spread them out in the sun to dry; for although the gale was raging fiercely, there was not a single cloud in the bright sky. They had also stripped off most part of my wet clothes and spread them also on the rocks. Having resumed our garments, we now searched all our pockets with the utmost care, and laid their contents out on a flat stone before us; and now that our minds were fully alive to our condition, it was with no little anxiety that we turned our several pockets inside out, in order that nothing might escape us. When all was collected together, we found that our worldly goods consisted of the following articles:-- First, a small penknife with a single blade broken off about the middle and very rusty, besides having two or three notches on its edge. (Peterkin said of this, with his usual pleasantry, that it would do for a saw as well as a knife, which was a great advantage.) Second, an old German-silver pencil-case without any lead in it. Third, a piece of whipcord about six yards long. Fourth, a sailmaker's needle of a small size. Fifth, a ship's telescope, which I happened to have in my hand at the time the ship struck, and which I had clung to firmly all the time I was in the water. Indeed it was with difficulty that Jack got it out of my grasp when I was lying insensible on the shore. I cannot understand why I kept such a firm hold of this telescope. They say that a drowning man will clutch at a straw. Perhaps it may have been some such feeling in me, for I did not know that it was in my hand at the time we were wrecked. However, we felt some pleasure in having it with us now, although we did not see that it could be of much use to us, as the glass at the small end was broken to pieces. Our sixth article was a brass ring which Jack always wore on his little finger. I never understood why he wore it, for Jack was not vain of his appearance, and did not seem to care for ornaments of any kind. Peterkin said "it was in memory of the girl he left behind him!" But as he never spoke of this girl to either of us, I am inclined to think that Peterkin was either jesting or mistaken. In addition to these articles we had a little bit of tinder, and the clothes on our back. These last were as follows:-- Each of us had on a pair of stout canvas trousers, and a pair of sailors' thick shoes. Jack wore a red flannel shirt, a blue jacket, and a red Kilmarnock bonnet or nightcap, besides a pair of worsted socks, and a cotton pocket-handkerchief, with sixteen portraits of Lord Nelson printed on it, and a Union Jack in the middle. Peterkin had on a striped flannel shirt--which he wore outside his trousers, and belted round his waist, after the manner of a tunic--and a round black straw hat. He had no jacket, having thrown it off just before we were cast into the sea; but this was not of much consequence, as the climate of the island proved to be extremely mild--so much so, indeed, that Jack and I often preferred to go about without our jackets. Peterkin had also a pair of white cotton socks, and a blue handkerchief with white spots all over it. My own costume consisted of a blue flannel shirt, a blue jacket, a black cap, and a pair of worsted socks, besides the shoes and canvas trousers already mentioned. This was all we had, and besides these things we had nothing else; but when we thought of the danger from which we had escaped, and how much worse off we might have been had the ship struck on the reef during the night, we felt very thankful that we were possessed of so much, although, I must confess, we sometimes wished that we had had a little more. While we were examining these things and talking about them, Jack suddenly started and exclaimed-- "The oar! We have forgotten the oar." "What good will that do us!" said Peterkin; "there's wood enough on the island to make a thousand oars." "Ay, lad," replied Jack; "but there's a bit of hoop-iron at the end of it, and that may be of much use to us." "Very true," said I, "let us go fetch it;" and with that we all three rose and hastened down to the beach. I still felt a little weak from loss of blood, so that my companions soon began to leave me behind; but Jack perceived this, and, with his usual considerate good-nature, turned back to help me. This was now the first time that I had looked well about me since landing, as the spot where I had been laid was covered with thick bushes, which almost hid the country from our view. As we now emerged from among these and walked down the sandy beach together, I cast my eyes about, and truly my heart glowed within me and my spirits rose at the beautiful prospect which I beheld on every side. The gale had suddenly died away, just as if it had blown furiously till it dashed our ship upon the rocks, and had nothing more to do after accomplishing that. The island on which we stood was hilly, and covered almost everywhere with the most beautiful and richly coloured trees, bushes, and shrubs, none of which I knew the names of at that time, except, indeed, the cocoa-nut palms, which I recognised at once from the many pictures that I had seen of them before I left home. A sandy beach of dazzling whiteness lined this bright green shore, and upon it there fell a gentle ripple of the sea. This last astonished me much, for I recollected that at home the sea used to fall in huge billows on the shore long after a storm had subsided. But on casting my glance out to sea, the cause became apparent. About a mile distant from the shore, I saw the great billows of the ocean rolling like a green wall, and falling with a long, loud roar upon a low coral reef, where they were dashed into white foam and flung up in clouds of spray. This spray sometimes flew exceedingly high, and every here and there a beautiful rainbow was formed for a moment among the falling drops. We afterwards found that this coral reef extended quite round the island, and formed a natural breakwater to it. Beyond this the sea rose and tossed violently from the effects of the storm; but between the reef and the shore it was as calm and as smooth as a pond. My heart was filled with more delight than I can express at sight of so many glorious objects, and my thoughts turned suddenly to the contemplation of the Creator of them all. I mention this the more gladly because at that time, I am ashamed to say, I very seldom thought of my Creator, although I was constantly surrounded by the most beautiful and wonderful of His works. I observed, from the expression of my companion's countenance, that he too derived much joy from the splendid scenery, which was all the more agreeable to us after our long voyage on the salt sea. There the breeze was fresh and cold, but here it was delightfully mild; and when a puff blew off the land, it came laden with the most exquisite perfume that can be imagined. While we thus gazed, we were startled by a loud "Huzza!" from Peterkin, and on looking towards the edge of the sea, we saw him capering and jumping about like a monkey, and ever and anon tugging with all his might at something that lay upon the shore. "What an odd fellow he is, to be sure!" said Jack, taking me by the arm and hurrying forward; "come, let us hasten to see what it is." "Here it is, boys, hurrah! come along. Just what we want," cried Peterkin, as we drew near, still tugging with all his power. "First-rate; just the very ticket!" I need scarcely say to my readers that my companion Peterkin was in the habit of using very remarkable and peculiar phrases. And I am free to confess that I did not well understand the meaning of some of them--such, for instance, as "the very ticket"; but I think it my duty to recount everything relating to my adventures with a strict regard to truthfulness in as far as my memory serves me; so I write, as nearly as possible, the exact words that my companions spoke. I often asked Peterkin to explain what he meant by "ticket," but he always answered me by going into fits of laughter. However, by observing the occasions on which he used it, I came to understand that it meant to show that something was remarkably good or fortunate. On coming up, we found that Peterkin was vainly endeavouring to pull the axe out of the oar, into which, it will be remembered, Jack struck it while endeavouring to cut away the cordage among which it had become entangled at the bow of the ship. Fortunately for us, the axe had remained fast in the oar, and even now all Peterkin's strength could not draw it out of the cut. "Ah! that is capital indeed," cried Jack, at the same time giving the axe a wrench that plucked it out of the tough wood. "How fortunate this is! It will be of more value to us than a hundred knives, and the edge is quite new and sharp." "I'll answer for the toughness of the handle, at any rate," cried Peterkin; "my arms are nearly pulled out of the sockets. But see here, our luck is great. There is iron on the blade." He pointed to a piece of hoop-iron as he spoke, which had been nailed round the blade of the oar to prevent it from splitting. This also was a fortunate discovery. Jack went down on his knees, and with the edge of the axe began carefully to force out the nails. But as they were firmly fixed in, and the operation blunted our axe, we carried the oar up with us to the place where we had left the rest of our things, intending to burn the wood away from the iron at a more convenient time. "Now, lads," said Jack, after we had laid it on the stone which contained our little all, "I propose that we should go to the tail of the island, where the ship struck, which is only a quarter of a mile off, and see if anything else has been thrown ashore. I don't expect anything, but it is well to see. When we get back here, it will be time to have our supper and prepare our beds." "Agreed!" cried Peterkin and I together, as, indeed, we would have agreed to any proposal that Jack made, for, besides his being older and much stronger and taller than either of us, he was a very clever fellow, and I think would have induced people much older than himself to choose him for their leader, especially if they required to be led on a bold enterprise. Now, as we hastened along the white beach, which shone so brightly in the rays of the setting sun that our eyes were quite dazzled by its glare, it suddenly came into Peterkin's head that we had nothing to eat except the wild berries which grew in profusion at our feet. "What shall we do, Jack?" said he, with a rueful look; "perhaps they may be poisonous!" "No fear," replied Jack confidently; "I have observed that a few of them are not unlike some of the berries that grow wild on our own native hills. Besides, I saw one or two strange birds eating them just a few minutes ago, and what won't kill the birds won't kill us. But look up there, Peterkin," continued Jack, pointing to the branched head of a cocoa-nut palm. "There are nuts for us in all stages." "So there are!" cried Peterkin, who, being of a very unobservant nature, had been too much taken up with other things to notice anything so high above his head as the fruit of a palm tree. But whatever faults my young comrade had, he could not be blamed for want of activity or animal spirits. Indeed, the nuts had scarcely been pointed out to him when he bounded up the tall stem of the tree like a squirrel, and in a few minutes returned with three nuts, each as large as a man's fist. "You had better keep them till we return," said Jack. "Let us finish our work before eating." "So be it, captain; go ahead," cried Peterkin, thrusting the nuts into his trousers pocket. "In fact, I don't want to eat just now, but I would give a good deal for a drink. Oh that I could find a spring! but I don't see the smallest sign of one hereabouts. I say, Jack, how does it happen that you seem to be up to everything? You have told us the names of half-a-dozen trees already, and yet you say that you were never in the South Seas before." "I'm not up to _everything_, Peterkin, as you'll find out ere long," replied Jack, with a smile; "but I have been a great reader of books of travel and adventure all my life, and that has put me up to a good many things that you are, perhaps, not acquainted with." "O Jack, that's all humbug. If you begin to lay everything to the credit of books, I'll quite lose my opinion of you," cried Peterkin, with a look of contempt. "I've seen a lot o' fellows that were _always_ poring over books, and when they came to try to _do_ anything, they were no better than baboons!" "You are quite right," retorted Jack, "and I have seen a lot of fellows who never looked into books at all, who knew nothing about anything except the things they had actually seen, and very little they knew even about these. Indeed, some were so ignorant that they did not know that cocoa-nuts grew on cocoa-nut trees!" I could not refrain from laughing at this rebuke, for there was much truth in it as to Peterkin's ignorance. "Humph! maybe you're right," answered Peterkin; "but I would not give _tuppence_ for a man of books, if he had nothing else in him." "Neither would I," said Jack; "but that's no reason why you should run books down, or think less of me for having read them. Suppose now, Peterkin, that you wanted to build a ship, and I were to give you a long and particular account of the way to do it, would not that be very useful?" "No doubt of it," said Peterkin, laughing. "And suppose I were to write the account in a letter instead of telling you in words, would that be less useful?" "Well--no, perhaps not." "Well, suppose I were to print it, and send it to you in the form of a book, would it not be as good and useful as ever?" "Oh, bother! Jack, you're a philosopher, and that's worse than anything!" cried Peterkin, with a look of pretended horror. "Very well, Peterkin, we shall see," returned Jack, halting under the shade of a cocoa-nut tree. "You said you were thirsty just a minute ago; now jump up that tree and bring down a nut--not a ripe one, bring a green, unripe one." Peterkin looked surprised, but seeing that Jack was in earnest, he obeyed. "Now cut a hole in it with your penknife, and clap it to your mouth, old fellow," said Jack. Peterkin did as he was directed, and we both burst into uncontrollable laughter at the changes that instantly passed over his expressive countenance. No sooner had he put the nut to his mouth, and thrown back his head in order to catch what came out of it, than his eyes opened to twice their ordinary size with astonishment, while his throat moved vigorously in the act of swallowing. Then a smile and look of intense delight overspread his face, except, indeed, the mouth, which, being firmly fixed to the hole in the nut, could not take part in the expression; but he endeavoured to make up for this by winking at us excessively with his right eye. At length he stopped, and, drawing a long breath, exclaimed-- "Nectar! perfect nectar! I say, Jack, you're a Briton--the best fellow I ever met in my life.--Only taste that!" said he, turning to me and holding the nut to my mouth. I immediately drank, and certainly I was much surprised at the delightful liquid that flowed copiously down my throat. It was extremely cool, and had a sweet taste, mingled with acid; in fact it was the likest thing to lemonade I ever tasted, and was most grateful and refreshing. I handed the nut to Jack, who, after tasting it, said, "Now, Peterkin, you unbeliever, I never saw or tasted a cocoa-nut in my life before, except those sold in shops at home; but I once read that the green nuts contain that stuff, and you see it is true!" "And pray," asked Peterkin, "what sort of 'stuff' does the ripe nut contain?" "A hollow kernel," answered Jack, "with a liquid like milk in it; but it does not satisfy thirst so well as hunger. It is very wholesome food, I believe." "Meat and drink on the same tree!" cried Peterkin; "washing in the sea, lodging on the ground--and all for nothing. My dear boys, we're set up for life; it must be the ancient Paradise--hurrah!" and Peterkin tossed his straw hat in the air, and ran along the beach hallooing like a madman with delight. We afterwards found, however, that these lovely islands were very unlike Paradise in many things. But more of this in its proper place. We had now come to the point of rocks on which the ship had struck, but did not find a single article, although we searched carefully among the coral rocks, which at this place jutted out so far as nearly to join the reef that encircled the island. Just as we were about to return, however, we saw something black floating in a little cove that had escaped our observation. Running forward, we drew it from the water, and found it to be a long, thick, leather boot, such as fishermen at home wear; and a few paces farther on we picked up its fellow. We at once recognised these as having belonged to our captain, for he had worn them during the whole of the storm, in order to guard his legs from the waves and spray that constantly washed over our decks. My first thought on seeing them was that our dear captain had been drowned; but Jack soon put my mind more at rest and that point, by saying that if the captain had been drowned with the boots on, he would certainly have been washed ashore along with them, and that he had no doubt whatever he had kicked them off while in the sea, that he might swim more easily. Peterkin immediately put them on, but they were so large that, as Jack said, they would have done for boots, trousers, and vest too. I also tried them, but although I was long enough in the legs for them, they were much too large in the feet for me: so we handed them to Jack, who was anxious to make me keep them; but as they fitted his large limbs and feet as if they had been made for him, I would not hear of it, so he consented at last to use them. I may remark, however, that Jack did not use them often, as they were extremely heavy. It was beginning to grow dark when we returned to our encampment; so we put off our visit to the top of a hill till next day, and employed the light that yet remained to us in cutting down a quantity of boughs and the broad leaves of a tree of which none of us knew the name. With these we erected a sort of rustic bower, in which we meant to pass the night. There was no absolute necessity for this, because the air of our island was so genial and balmy that we could have slept quite well without any shelter; but we were so little used to sleeping in the open air that we did not quite relish the idea of lying down without any covering over us; besides, our bower would shelter us from the night-dews or rain, if any should happen to fall. Having strewed the floor with leaves and dry grass, we bethought ourselves of supper. But it now occurred to us, for the first time, that we had no means of making a fire. "Now, there's a fix! What shall we do?" said Peterkin, while we both turned our eyes to Jack, to whom we always looked in our difficulties. Jack seemed not a little perplexed. "There are flints enough, no doubt, on the beach," said he, "but they are of no use at all without a steel. However, we must try." So saying, he went to the beach, and soon returned with two flints. On one of these he placed the tinder, and endeavoured to ignite it; but it was with great difficulty that a very small spark was struck out of the flints, and the tinder, being a bad, hard piece, would not catch. He then tried the bit of hoop-iron, which would not strike fire at all; and after that the back of the axe, with no better success. During all these trials Peterkin sat with his hands in his pockets, gazing with a most melancholy visage at our comrade, his face growing longer and more miserable at each successive failure. "Oh dear!" he sighed; "I would not care a button for the cooking of our victuals--perhaps they don't need it--but it's so dismal to eat one's supper in the dark; and we have had such a capital day that it's a pity to finish off in this glum style. Oh, I have it!" he cried, starting up; "the spy-glass--the big glass at the end is a burning-glass!" "You forget that we have no sun," said I. Peterkin was silent. In his sudden recollection of the telescope he had quite overlooked the absence of the sun. "Ah, boys, I've got it now!" exclaimed Jack, rising and cutting a branch from a neighbouring bush, which he stripped of its leaves. "I recollect seeing this done once at home. Hand me the bit of whip-cord." With the cord and branch Jack soon formed a bow. Then he cut a piece, about three inches long, off the end of a dead branch, which he pointed at the two ends. Round this he passed the cord of the bow, and placed one end against his chest, which was protected from its point by a chip of wood; the other point he placed against the bit of tinder, and then began to saw vigorously with the bow, just as a blacksmith does with his drill while boring a hole in a piece of iron. In a few seconds the tinder begun to smoke; in less than a minute it caught fire; and in less than a quarter of an hour we were drinking our lemonade and eating cocoa-nuts round a fire that would have roasted an entire sheep, while the smoke, flames, and sparks flew up among the broad leaves of the overhanging palm trees, and cast a warm glow upon our leafy bower. That night the starry sky looked down through the gently rustling trees upon our slumbers, and the distant roaring of the surf upon the coral reef was our lullaby. Chapter V Morning, and cogitations connected therewith--We luxuriate in the sea, try our diving powers, and make enchanting excursions among the coral groves at the bottom of the ocean--The wonders of the deep enlarged upon. What a joyful thing it is to awaken, on a fresh glorious morning, and find the rising sun staring into your face with dazzling brilliancy! to see the birds twittering in the bushes, and to hear the murmuring of a rill, or the soft hissing ripples as they fall upon the seashore! At any time and in any place such sights and sounds are most charming, but more especially are they so when one awakens to them, for the first time, in a novel and romantic situation, with the soft sweet air of a tropical climate mingling with the fresh smell of the sea, and stirring the strange leaves that flutter overhead and around one, or ruffling the plumage of the stranger birds that fly inquiringly around, as if to demand what business we have to intrude uninvited on their domains. When I awoke on the morning after the shipwreck, I found myself in this most delightful condition; and as I lay on my back upon my bed of leaves, gazing up through the branches of the cocoa-nut trees into the clear blue sky, and watched the few fleecy clouds that passed slowly across it, my heart expanded more and more with an exulting gladness, the like of which I had never felt before. While I meditated, my thoughts again turned to the great and kind Creator of this beautiful world, as they had done on the previous day, when I first beheld the sea and the coral reef, with the mighty waves dashing over it into the calm waters of the lagoon. While thus meditating, I naturally bethought me of my Bible, for I had faithfully kept the promise, which I gave at parting to my beloved mother, that I would read it every morning; and it was with a feeling of dismay that I remembered I had left it in the ship. I was much troubled about this. However, I consoled myself with reflecting that I could keep the second part of my promise to her--namely, that I should never omit to say my prayers. So I rose quietly, lest I should disturb my companions, who were still asleep, and stepped aside into the bushes for this purpose. On my return I found them still slumbering, so I again lay down to think over our situation. Just at that moment I was attracted by the sight of a very small parrot, which Jack afterwards told me was called a paroquet. It was seated on a twig that overhung Peterkin's head, and I was speedily lost in admiration of its bright green plumage, which was mingled with other gay colours. While I looked I observed that the bird turned its head slowly from side to side and looked downwards, first with the one eye and then with the other. On glancing downwards I observed that Peterkin's mouth was wide open, and that this remarkable bird was looking into it. Peterkin used to say that I had not an atom of fun in my composition, and that I never could understand a joke. In regard to the latter, perhaps he was right; yet I think that, when they were explained to me, I understood jokes as well as most people. But in regard to the former, he must certainly have been wrong, for this bird seemed to me to be extremely funny; and I could not help thinking that, if it should happen to faint, or slip its foot, and fall off the twig into Peterkin's mouth, he would perhaps think it funny too! Suddenly the paroquet bent down its head and uttered a loud scream in his face. This awoke him, and, with a cry of surprise, he started up, while the foolish bird flew precipitately away. "Oh, you monster!" cried Peterkin, shaking his fist at the bird. Then he yawned, and rubbed his eyes, and asked what o'clock it was. I smiled at this question, and answered that, as our watches were at the bottom of the sea, I could not tell, but it was a little past sunrise. Peterkin now began to remember where we were. As he looked up into the bright sky, and snuffed the scented air, his eyes glistened with delight, and he uttered a faint "Hurrah!" and yawned again. Then he gazed slowly round, till, observing the calm sea through an opening in the bushes, he started suddenly up as if he had received an electric shock, uttered a vehement shout, flung off his garments, and, rushing over the white sands, plunged into the water. The cry awoke Jack, who rose on his elbow with a look of grave surprise; but this was followed by a quiet smile of intelligence on seeing Peterkin in the water. With an energy that he only gave way to in moments of excitement, Jack bounded to his feet, threw off his clothes, shook back his hair, and, with a lion-like spring, dashed over the sands and plunged into the sea with such force as quite to envelop Peterkin in a shower of spray. Jack was a remarkably good swimmer and diver, so that after his plunge we saw no sign of him for nearly a minute; after which he suddenly emerged, with a cry of joy, a good many yards out from the shore. My spirits were so much raised by seeing all this that I, too, hastily threw off my garments and endeavoured to imitate Jack's vigorous bound; but I was so awkward that my foot caught on a stump, and I fell to the ground; then I slipped on a stone while running over the sand, and nearly fell again, much to the amusement of Peterkin, who laughed heartily, and called me a "slow coach," while Jack cried out, "Come along, Ralph, and I'll help you." However, when I got into the water, I managed very well, for I was really a good swimmer and diver too. I could not, indeed, equal Jack, who was superior to any Englishman I ever saw; but I infinitely surpassed Peterkin, who could only swim a little, and could not dive at all. While Peterkin enjoyed himself in the shallow water and in running along the beach, Jack and I swam out into the deep water, and occasionally dived for stones. I shall never forget my surprise and delight on first beholding the bottom of the sea. As I have before stated, the water within the reef was as calm as a pond; and, as there was no wind, it was quite clear from the surface to the bottom, so that we could see down easily even at a depth of twenty or thirty yards. When Jack and I dived into shallower water, we expected to have found sand and stones, instead of which we found ourselves in what appeared really to be an enchanted garden. The whole of the bottom of the lagoon, as we called the calm water within the reef, was covered with coral of every shape, size, and hue. Some portions were formed like large mushrooms; others appeared like the brain of a man, having stalks or necks attached to them; but the most common kind was a species of branching coral, and some portions were of a lovely pale pink colour, others were pure white. Among this there grew large quantities of seaweed of the richest hues imaginable, and of the most graceful forms; while innumerable fishes--blue, red, yellow, green, and striped--sported in and out amongst the flower-beds of this submarine garden, and did not appear to be at all afraid of our approaching them. On darting to the surface for breath, after our first dive, Jack and I rose close to each other. "Did you ever in your life, Ralph, see anything so lovely?" said Jack, as he flung the spray from his hair. "Never," I replied. "It appears to me like fairy realms. I can scarcely believe that we are not dreaming." "Dreaming!" cried Jack; "do you know, Ralph, I'm half tempted to think that we really are dreaming. But if so, I am resolved to make the most of it, and dream another dive; so here goes--down again, my boy!" We took the second dive together, and kept beside each other while under water; and I was greatly surprised to find that we could keep down much longer than I ever recollect having done in our own seas at home. I believe that this was owing to the heat of the water, which was so warm that we afterwards found we could remain in it for two and three hours at a time without feeling any unpleasant effects such as we used to experience in the sea at home. When Jack reached the bottom, he grasped the coral stems, and crept along on his hands and knees, peeping under the seaweed and among the rocks. I observed him also pick up one or two large oysters and retain them in his grasp, as if he meant to take them up with him, so I also gathered a few. Suddenly he made a grasp at a fish with blue and yellow stripes on its back, and actually touched its tail, but did not catch it. At this he turned towards me and attempted to smile; but no sooner had he done so than he sprang like an arrow to the surface, where, on following him, I found him gasping and coughing, and spitting water from his mouth. In a few minutes he recovered, and we both turned to swim ashore. "I declare, Ralph," said he, "that I actually tried to laugh under water." "So I saw," I replied; "and I observed that you very nearly caught that fish by the tail. It would have done capitally for breakfast if you had." "Breakfast enough here," said he, holding up the oysters, as we landed and ran up the beach. "Hallo, Peterkin! here you are, boy. Split open these fellows while Ralph and I put on our clothes. They'll agree with the cocoa-nuts excellently, I have no doubt." Peterkin, who was already dressed, took the oysters, and opened them with the edge of our axe, exclaiming, "Now, that _is_ capital. There's nothing I'm so fond of." "Ah! that's lucky," remarked Jack. "I'll be able to keep you in good order now, Master Peterkin. You know you can't dive any better than a cat. So, sir, whenever you behave ill, you shall have no oysters for breakfast." "I'm very glad that our prospect of breakfast is so good," said I, "for I'm very hungry." "Here, then, stop your mouth with that, Ralph," said Peterkin, holding a large oyster to my lips. I opened my mouth and swallowed it in silence, and really it was remarkably good. We now set ourselves earnestly about our preparations for spending the day. We had no difficulty with the fire this morning, as our burning-glass was an admirable one; and while we roasted a few oysters and ate our cocoa-nuts, we held a long, animated conversation about our plans for the future. What those plans were, and how we carried them into effect, the reader shall see hereafter. Chapter VI An excursion into the interior, in which we make many valuable and interesting discoveries--We get a dreadful fright--The bread-fruit tree--Wonderful peculiarity of some of the fruit-trees--Signs of former inhabitants. Our first care, after breakfast, was to place the few articles we possessed in the crevice of a rock at the farther end of a small cave which we discovered near our encampment. This cave, we hoped, might be useful to us afterwards as a storehouse. Then we cut two large clubs off a species of very hard tree which grew near at hand. One of these was given to Peterkin, the other to me, and Jack armed himself with the axe. We took these precautions because we purposed to make an excursion to the top of the mountains of the interior, in order to obtain a better view of our island. Of course we knew not what dangers might befall us by the way, so thought it best to be prepared. Having completed our arrangements and carefully extinguished our fire, we sallied forth and walked a short distance along the sea-beach, till we came to the entrance of a valley, through which flowed the rivulet before mentioned. Here we turned our backs on the sea and struck into the interior. The prospect that burst upon our view on entering the valley was truly splendid. On either side of us there was a gentle rise in the land, which thus formed two ridges about a mile apart on each side of the valley. These ridges--which, as well as the low grounds between them, were covered with trees and shrubs of the most luxuriant kind--continued to recede inland for about two miles, when they joined the foot of a small mountain. This hill rose rather abruptly from the head of the valley, and was likewise entirely covered even to the top with trees, except on one particular spot near the left shoulder, where was a bare and rocky place of a broken and savage character. Beyond this hill we could not see, and we therefore directed our course up the banks of the rivulet towards the foot of it, intending to climb to the top, should that be possible, as, indeed, we had no doubt it was. Jack being the wisest and boldest among us, took the lead, carrying the axe on his shoulder. Peterkin, with his enormous club, came second, as he said he should like to be in a position to defend me if any danger should threaten. I brought up the rear, but, having been more taken up with the wonderful and curious things I saw at starting than with thoughts of possible danger, I had very foolishly left my club behind me. Although, as I have said, the trees and bushes were very luxuriant, they were not so thickly crowded together as to hinder our progress among them. We were able to wind in and out, and to follow the banks of the stream quite easily, although, it is true, the height and thickness of the foliage prevented us from seeing far ahead. But sometimes a jutting-out rock on the hillsides afforded us a position whence we could enjoy the romantic view and mark our progress towards the foot of the hill. I was particularly struck, during the walk, with the richness of the undergrowth in most places, and recognised many berries and plants that resembled those of my native land, especially a tall, elegantly formed fern, which emitted an agreeable perfume. There were several kinds of flowers, too, but I did not see so many of these as I should have expected in such a climate. We also saw a great variety of small birds of bright plumage, and many paroquets similar to the one that awoke Peterkin so rudely in the morning. Thus we advanced to the foot of the hill without encountering anything to alarm us, except, indeed, once, when we were passing close under a part of the hill which was hidden from our view by the broad leaves of the banana trees, which grew in great luxuriance in that part. Jack was just preparing to force his way through this thicket, when we were startled and arrested by a strange pattering or rumbling sound which appeared to us quite different from any of the sounds we had heard during the previous part of our walk. "Hallo!" cried Peterkin, stopping short and grasping his club with both hands, "what's that?" Neither of us replied; but Jack seized his axe in his right hand, while with the other he pushed aside the broad leaves and endeavoured to peer amongst them. "I can see nothing," he said, after a short pause. "I think it--" Again the rumbling sound came, louder than before, and we all sprang back and stood on the defensive. For myself, having forgotten my club, and not having taken the precaution to cut another, I buttoned my jacket, doubled my fists, and threw myself into a boxing attitude. I must say, however, that I felt somewhat uneasy; and my companions afterwards confessed that their thoughts at this moment had been instantly filled with all they had ever heard or read of wild beasts and savages, torturings at the stake, roastings alive, and such like horrible things. Suddenly the pattering noise increased with tenfold violence. It was followed by a fearful crash among the bushes, which was rapidly repeated, as if some gigantic animal were bounding towards us. In another moment an enormous rock came crashing through the shrubbery, followed by a cloud of dust and small stones, and flew close past the spot where we stood, carrying bushes and young trees along with it. "Pooh! is that all?" exclaimed Peterkin, wiping the perspiration off his forehead. "Why, I thought it was all the wild men and beasts in the South Sea Islands galloping on in one grand charge to sweep us off the face of the earth, instead of a mere stone tumbling down the mountainside." "Nevertheless," remarked Jack, "if that same stone had hit any of us, it would have rendered the charge you speak of quite unnecessary, Peterkin." This was true, and I felt very thankful for our escape. On examining the spot more narrowly, we found that it lay close to the foot of a very rugged precipice, from which stones of various sizes were always tumbling at intervals. Indeed, the numerous fragments lying scattered all around might have suggested the cause of the sound, had we not been too suddenly alarmed to think of anything. We now resumed our journey, resolving that, in our future excursions into the interior, we would be careful to avoid this dangerous precipice. Soon afterwards we arrived at the foot of the hill and prepared to ascend it. Here Jack made a discovery which caused us all very great joy. This was a tree of a remarkably beautiful appearance, which Jack confidently declared to be the celebrated bread-fruit tree. "Is it celebrated?" inquired Peterkin, with a look of great simplicity. "It is," replied Jack. "That's odd, now," rejoined Peterkin; "I never heard of it before." "Then it's not so celebrated as I thought it was," returned Jack, quietly squeezing Peterkin's hat over his eyes; "but listen, you ignorant booby! and hear of it now." Peterkin readjusted his hat, and was soon listening with as much interest as myself, while Jack told us that this tree is one of the most valuable in the islands of the south; that it bears two, sometimes three, crops of fruit in the year; that the fruit is very like wheaten bread in appearance, and that it constitutes the principal food of many of the islanders. "So," said Peterkin, "we seem to have everything ready prepared to our hands in this wonderful island--lemonade ready bottled in nuts, and loaf-bread growing on the trees!" Peterkin, as usual, was jesting; nevertheless, it is a curious fact that he spoke almost the literal truth. "Moreover," continued Jack, "the bread-fruit tree affords a capital gum, which serves the natives for pitching their canoes; the bark of the young branches is made by them into cloth; and of the wood, which is durable and of a good colour, they build their houses. So you see, lads, that we have no lack of material here to make us comfortable, if we are only clever enough to use it." "But are you sure that that's it?" asked Peterkin. "Quite sure," replied Jack; "for I was particularly interested in the account I once read of it, and I remember the description well. I am sorry, however, that I have forgotten the descriptions of many other trees which I am sure we have seen to-day, if we could but recognise them. So you see, Peterkin, I'm not up to everything yet." "Never mind, Jack," said Peterkin, with a grave, patronising expression of countenance, patting his tall companion on the shoulder--"never mind, Jack; you know a good deal for your age. You're a clever boy, sir--a promising young man; and if you only go on as you have begun, sir, you will----" The end of this speech was suddenly cut short by Jack tripping up Peterkin's heels and tumbling him into a mass of thick shrubs, where, finding himself comfortable, he lay still, basking in the sunshine, while Jack and I examined the bread-fruit tree. We were much struck with the deep, rich green colour of its broad leaves, which were twelve or eighteen inches long, deeply indented, and of a glossy smoothness, like the laurel. The fruit, with which it was loaded, was nearly round, and appeared to be about six inches in diameter, with a rough rind, marked with lozenge-shaped divisions. It was of various colours, from light pea-green to brown and rich yellow. Jack said that the yellow was the ripe fruit. We afterwards found that most of the fruit-trees on the island were evergreens, and that we might, when we wished, pluck the blossom and the ripe fruit from the same tree. Such a wonderful difference from the trees of our own country surprised us not a little. The bark of the tree was rough and light-coloured; the trunk was about two feet in diameter, and it appeared to be twenty feet high, being quite destitute of branches up to that height, where it branched off into a beautiful and umbrageous head. We noticed that the fruit hung in clusters of twos and threes on the branches; but as we were anxious to get to the top of the hill, we refrained from attempting to pluck any at that time. Our hearts were now very much cheered by our good fortune, and it was with light and active steps that we clambered up the steep sides of the hill. On reaching the summit, a new and, if possible, a grander prospect, met our gaze. We found that this was not the highest part of the island, but that another hill lay beyond, with a wide valley between it and the one on which we stood. This valley, like the first, was also full of rich trees, some dark and some light green, some heavy and thick in foliage, and others light, feathery, and graceful, while the beautiful blossoms on many of them threw a sort of rainbow tint over all, and gave to the valley the appearance of a garden of flowers. Among these we recognised many of the bread-fruit trees, laden with yellow fruit, and also a great many cocoa-nut palms. After gazing our fill, we pushed down the hillside, crossed the valley, and soon began to ascend the second mountain. It was clothed with trees nearly to the top, but the summit was bare, and in some places broken. While on our way up we came to an object which filled us with much interest. This was the stump of a tree that had evidently been cut down with an axe! So, then, we were not the first who had viewed this beautiful isle. The hand of man had been at work there before us. It now began to recur to us again that perhaps the island was inhabited, although we had not seen any traces of man until now; but a second glance at the stump convinced us that we had not more reason to think so now than formerly; for the surface of the wood was quite decayed, and partly covered with fungus and green matter, so that it must have been cut many years ago. "Perhaps," said Peterkin, "some ship or other has touched here long ago for wood, and only taken one tree." We did not think this likely, however, because, in such circumstances, the crew of a ship would cut wood of small size, and near the shore, whereas this was a large tree and stood near the top of the mountain. In fact, it was the highest large tree on the mountain, all above it being wood of very recent growth. "I can't understand it," said Jack, scratching the surface of the stump with his axe. "I can only suppose that the savages have been here and cut it for some purpose known only to themselves. But, hallo! what have we here?" As he spoke, Jack began carefully to scrape away the moss and fungus from the stump, and soon laid bare three distinct traces of marks, as if some inscription or initials had been cut thereon. But although the traces were distinct, beyond all doubt, the exact form of the letters could not be made out. Jack thought they looked like J. S., but we could not be certain. They had apparently been carelessly cut, and long exposure to the weather had so broken them up that we could not make out what they were. We were exceedingly perplexed at this discovery, and stayed a long time at the place conjecturing what these marks could have been, but without avail; so, as the day was advancing, we left it and quickly reached the top of the mountain. We found this to be the highest point of the island, and from it we saw our kingdom lying, as it were, like a map around us. As I have always thought it impossible to get a thing properly into one's understanding without comprehending it, I shall beg the reader's patience for a little while I describe our island, thus, shortly:-- It consisted of two mountains: the one we guessed at 500 feet; the other, on which we stood, at 1000. Between these lay a rich, beautiful valley, as already said. This valley crossed the island from one end to the other, being high in the middle and sloping on each side towards the sea. The large mountain sloped, on the side farthest from where we had been wrecked, gradually towards the sea; but although, when viewed at a glance, it had thus a regular sloping appearance, a more careful observation showed that it was broken up into a multitude of very small vales, or rather dells and glens, intermingled with little rugged spots and small but abrupt precipices here and there, with rivulets tumbling over their edges and wandering down the slopes in little white streams, sometimes glistening among the broad leaves of the bread-fruit and cocoa-nut trees, or hiding altogether beneath the rich underwood. At the base of this mountain lay a narrow bright green plain or meadow, which terminated abruptly at the shore. On the other side of the island, whence we had come, stood the smaller hill, at the foot of which diverged three valleys; one being that which we had ascended, with a smaller vale on each side of it, and separated from it by the two ridges before mentioned. In these smaller valleys there were no streams, but they were clothed with the same luxuriant vegetation. The diameter of the island seemed to be about ten miles, and as it was almost circular in form, its circumference must have been thirty miles--perhaps a little more, if allowance be made for the numerous bays and indentations of the shore. The entire island was belted by a beach of pure white sand, on which laved the gentle ripples of the lagoon. We now also observed that the coral reef completely encircled the island; but it varied its distance from it here and there, in some places being a mile from the beach, in others a few hundred yards, but the average distance was half a mile. The reef lay very low, and the spray of the surf broke quite over it in many places. This surf never ceased its roar, for however calm the weather might be, there is always a gentle swaying motion in the great Pacific, which, although scarce noticeable out at sea, reaches the shore at last in a huge billow. The water within the lagoon, as before said, was perfectly still. There were three narrow openings in the reef: one opposite each end of the valley which I have described as crossing the island; the other opposite our own valley, which we afterwards named the Valley of the Wreck. At each of these openings the reef rose into two small green islets, covered with bushes and having one or two cocoa-nut palms on each. These islets were very singular, and appeared as if planted expressly for the purpose of marking the channel into the lagoon. Our captain was making for one of these openings the day we were wrecked, and would have reached it too, I doubt not, had not the rudder been torn away. Within the lagoon were several pretty, low coral islands, just opposite our encampment; and immediately beyond these, out at sea, lay about a dozen other islands, at various distances, from half a mile to ten miles;--all of them, as far as we could discern, smaller than ours and apparently uninhabited. They seemed to be low coral islands, raised but little above the sea, yet covered with cocoa-nut trees. All this we noted and a great deal more, while we sat on the top of the mountain. After we had satisfied ourselves we prepared to return; but here again we discovered traces of the presence of man. These were a pole or staff and one or two pieces of wood which had been squared with an axe. All of these were, however, very much decayed, and they had evidently not been touched for many years. Full of these discoveries we returned to our encampment. On the way we fell in with the traces of some four-footed animal, but whether old or of recent date none of us were able to guess. This also tended to raise our hopes of obtaining some animal food on the island, so we reached home in good spirits, quite prepared for supper, and highly satisfied with our excursion. After much discussion, in which Peterkin took the lead, we came to the conclusion that the island was uninhabited, and went to bed. Chapter VII Jack's ingenuity--We get into difficulties about fishing, and get out of them by a method which gives us a cold bath--Horrible encounter with a shark. For several days after the excursion related in the last chapter we did not wander far from our encampment, but gave ourselves up to forming plans for the future and making our present abode comfortable. There were various causes that induced this state of comparative inaction. In the first place, although everything around us was so delightful, and we could without difficulty obtain all that we required for our bodily comfort, we did not quite like the idea of settling down here for the rest of our lives, far away from our friends and our native land. To set energetically about preparations for a permanent residence seemed so like making up our minds to saying adieu to home and friends for ever, that we tacitly shrank from it, and put off our preparations, for one reason and another, as long as we could. Then there was a little uncertainty still as to there being natives on the island, and we entertained a kind of faint hope that a ship might come and take us off. But as day after day passed, and neither savages nor ships appeared, we gave up all hope of an early deliverance, and set diligently to work at our homestead. During this time, however, we had not been altogether idle. We made several experiments in cooking the cocoa-nut, most of which did not improve it. Then we removed our goods, and took up our abode in the cave, but found the change so bad that we returned gladly to the bower. Besides this, we bathed very frequently, and talked a great deal: at least Jack and Peterkin did--I listened. Among other useful things, Jack, who was ever the most active and diligent, converted about three inches of the hoop-iron into an excellent knife. First he beat it quite flat with the axe. Then he made a rude handle, and tied the hoop-iron to it with our piece of whipcord, and ground it to an edge on a piece of sandstone. When it was finished, he used it to shape a better handle, to which he fixed it with a strip of his cotton handkerchief--in which operation he had, as Peterkin pointed out, torn off one of Lord Nelson's noses. However, the whipcord, thus set free, was used by Peterkin as a fishing-line. He merely tied a piece of oyster to the end of it. This the fish were allowed to swallow, and then they were pulled quickly ashore. But as the line was very short and we had no boat, the fish we caught were exceedingly small. One day Peterkin came up from the beach, where he had been angling, and said in a very cross tone, "I'll tell you what, Jack, I'm not going to be humbugged with catching such contemptible things any longer. I want you to swim out with me on your back, and let me fish in deep water!" "Dear me, Peterkin!" replied Jack, "I had no idea you were taking the thing so much to heart, else I would have got you out of that difficulty long ago. Let me see"--and Jack looked down at a piece of timber on which he had been labouring, with a peculiar gaze of abstraction, which he always assumed when trying to invent or discover anything. "What say you to building a boat?" he inquired, looking up hastily. "Take far too long," was the reply; "can't be bothered waiting. I want to begin at once!" Again Jack considered. "I have it!" he cried. "We'll fell a large tree and launch the trunk of it in the water, so that when you want to fish you've nothing to do but to swim out to it." "Would not a small raft do better?" said I. "Much better; but we have no ropes to bind it together with. Perhaps we may find something hereafter that will do as well, but in the meantime let us try the tree." This was agreed on, so we started off to a spot not far distant, where we knew of a tree that would suit us, which grew near the water's edge. As soon as we reached it Jack threw off his coat, and, wielding the axe with his sturdy arms, hacked and hewed at it for a quarter of an hour without stopping. Then he paused, and while he sat down to rest I continued the work. Then Peterkin made a vigorous attack on it, so that when Jack renewed his powerful blows, a few minutes cutting brought it down with a terrible crash. "Hurrah! now for it," cried Jack; "let us off with its head." So saying he began to cut through the stem again, at about six yards from the thick end. This done, he cut three strong, short poles or levers from the stout branches, with which to roll the log down the beach into the sea; for, as it was nearly two feet thick at the large end, we could not move it without such helps. With the levers, however, we rolled it slowly into the sea. Having been thus successful in launching our vessel, we next shaped the levers into rude oars or paddles, and then attempted to embark. This was easy enough to do; but after seating ourselves astride the log, it was with the utmost difficulty we kept it from rolling round and plunging us into the water. Not that we minded that much; but we preferred, if possible, to fish in dry clothes. To be sure, our trousers were necessarily wet, as our legs were dangling in the water on each side of the log; but as they could be easily dried, we did not care. After half-an-hour's practice, we became expert enough to keep our balance pretty steadily. Then Peterkin laid down his paddle, and having baited his line with a whole oyster, dropped it into deep water. "Now then, Jack," said he, "be cautious; steer clear o' that seaweed. There! that's it; gently now, gently. I see a fellow at least a foot long down there, coming to--ha! that's it! Oh bother! he's off." "Did he bite?" said Jack, urging the log onwards a little with his paddle. "Bite? ay! He took it into his mouth, but the moment I began to haul he opened his jaws and let it out again." "Let him swallow it next time," said Jack, laughing at the melancholy expression of Peterkin's visage. "There he's again," cried Peterkin, his eyes flashing with excitement. "Look out! Now then! No! Yes! No! Why the brute _won't_ swallow it!" "Try to haul him up by the mouth, then," cried Jack. "Do it gently." A heavy sigh and a look of blank despair showed that poor Peterkin had tried and failed again. "Never mind, lad," said Jack, in a voice of sympathy, "we'll move on, and offer it to some other fish." So saying, Jack plied his paddle; but scarcely had he moved from the spot, when a fish with an enormous head and a little body darted from under a rock and swallowed the bait at once. "Got him this time--that's a fact!" cried Peterkin, hauling in the line. "He's swallowed the bait right down to his tail, I declare. Oh, what a thumper!" As the fish came struggling to the surface, we leaned forward to see it, and overbalanced the log. Peterkin threw his arms round the fish's neck, and in another instant we were all floundering in the water. A shout of laughter burst from us as we rose to the surface like three drowned rats, and seized hold of the log. We soon recovered our position, and sat more warily, while Peterkin secured the fish, which had well-nigh escaped in the midst of our struggles. It was little worth having, however; but, as Peterkin remarked, it was better than the smouts he had been catching for the last two or three days; so we laid it on the log before us, and having re-baited the line, dropped it in again for another. Now, while we were thus intent upon our sport, our attention was suddenly attracted by a ripple on the sea, just a few yards away from us. Peterkin shouted to us to paddle in that direction, as he thought it was a big fish, and we might have a chance of catching it. But Jack, instead of complying, said, in a deep, earnest tone of voice, which I never before heard him use--"Haul up your line, Peterkin; seize your paddle; quick--it's a shark!" The horror with which we heard this may well be imagined, for it must be remembered that our legs were hanging down in the water, and we could not venture to pull them up without upsetting the log. Peterkin instantly hauled up the line, and grasping his paddle, exerted himself to the utmost, while we also did our best to make for shore. But we were a good way off, and the log being, as I have before said, very heavy, moved but slowly through the water. We now saw the shark quite distinctly swimming round and round us, its sharp fin every now and then protruding above the water. From its active and unsteady motions, Jack knew it was making up its mind to attack us, so he urged us vehemently to paddle for our lives, while he himself set us the example. Suddenly he shouted, "Look out! there he comes!" and in a second we saw the monstrous fish dive close under us, and turn half over on his side. But we all made a great commotion with our paddles, which no doubt frightened it away for that time, as we saw it immediately after circling round us as before. "Throw the fish to him," cried Jack, in a quick, suppressed voice; "we'll make the shore in time yet if we can keep him off for a few minutes." Peterkin stopped one instant to obey the command, and then plied his paddle again with all his might. No sooner had the fish fallen on the water than we observed the shark to sink. In another second we saw its white breast rising; for sharks always turn over on their sides when about to seize their prey, their mouths being not at the point of their heads like those of other fish, but, as it were, under their chins. In another moment his snout rose above the water; his wide jaws, armed with a terrific double row of teeth, appeared. The dead fish was engulfed, and the shark sank out of sight. But Jack was mistaken in supposing that it would be satisfied. In a very few minutes it returned to us, and its quick motions led us to fear that it would attack us at once. "Stop paddling," cried Jack suddenly. "I see it coming up behind us. Now, obey my orders _quickly_. Our lives may depend on it. Ralph, Peterkin, do your best to _balance the log_. Don't look out for the shark. Don't glance behind you. Do nothing but balance the log." Peterkin and I instantly did as we were ordered, being only too glad to do anything that afforded us a chance or a hope of escape, for we had implicit confidence in Jack's courage and wisdom. For a few seconds, that seemed long minutes to my mind, we sat thus silently; but I could not resist glancing backward, despite the orders to the contrary. On doing so, I saw Jack sitting rigid like a statue, with his paddle raised, his lips compressed, and his eyebrows bent over his eyes, which glared savagely from beneath them down into the water. I also saw the shark, to my horror, quite close under the log, in the act of darting towards Jack's foot. I could scarce suppress a cry on beholding this. In another moment the shark rose. Jack drew his leg suddenly from the water, and threw it over the log. The monster's snout rubbed against the log as it passed, and revealed its hideous jaws, into which Jack instantly plunged the paddle, and thrust it down its throat. So violent was this act that Jack rose to his feet in performing it; the log was thereby rolled completely over, and we were once more plunged into the water. We all rose, spluttering and gasping, in a moment. "Now, then, strike out for shore," cried Jack. "Here, Peterkin, catch hold of my collar, and kick out with a will." Peterkin did as he was desired, and Jack struck out with such force that he cut through the water like a boat; while I, being free from all encumbrance, succeeded in keeping up with him. As we had by this time drawn pretty near to the shore, a few minutes more sufficed to carry us into shallow water; and, finally, we landed in safety, though very much exhausted, and not a little frightened by our terrible adventure. Chapter VIII The beauties of the bottom of the sea tempt Peterkin to dive--How he did it--More difficulties overcome--The Water Garden--Curious creatures of the sea--The tank--Candles missed very much, and the candle-nut tree discovered--Wonderful account of Peterkin's first voyage--Cloth found growing on a tree--A plan projected, and arms prepared for offence and defence--A dreadful cry. Our encounter with the shark was the first great danger that had befallen us since landing on this island, and we felt very seriously affected by it, especially when we considered that we had so often unwittingly incurred the same danger before while bathing. We were now forced to take to fishing again in the shallow water, until we should succeed in constructing a raft. What troubled us most, however, was, that we were compelled to forego our morning swimming excursions. We did, indeed, continue to enjoy our bathe in the shallow water, but Jack and I found that one great source of our enjoyment was gone, when we could no longer dive down among the beautiful coral groves at the bottom of the lagoon. We had come to be so fond of this exercise, and to take such an interest in watching the formations of coral and the gambols of the many beautiful fish amongst the forest of red and green seaweeds, that we had become quite familiar with the appearance of the fish and the localities that they chiefly haunted. We had also become expert divers. But we made it a rule never to stay long under water at a time. Jack told me that to do so often was bad for the lungs, and, instead of affording us enjoyment, would ere long do us a serious injury. So we never stayed at the bottom as long as we might have done, but came up frequently to the top for fresh air, and dived down again immediately. Sometimes, when Jack happened to be in a humorous frame, he would seat himself at the bottom of the sea on one of the brain-corals, as if he were seated on a large paddock-stool, and then make faces at me, in order, if possible, to make me laugh under water. At first, when he took me unawares, he nearly succeeded, and I had to shoot to the surface in order to laugh; but afterwards I became aware of his intentions, and being naturally of a grave disposition, I had no difficulty in restraining myself. I used often to wonder how poor Peterkin would have liked to be with us; and he sometimes expressed much regret at being unable to join us. I used to do my best to gratify him, poor fellow, by relating all the wonders that we saw; but this, instead of satisfying, seemed only to whet his curiosity the more, so one day we prevailed on him to try to go down with us. But although a brave boy in every other way, Peterkin was very nervous in the water, and it was with difficulty we got him to consent to be taken down, for he could never have managed to push himself down to the bottom without assistance. But no sooner had we pulled him down a yard or so into the deep clear water, than he began to struggle and kick violently; so we were forced to let him go, when he rose out of the water like a cork, gave a loud gasp and a frightful roar, and struck out for the land with the utmost possible haste. Now all this pleasure we were to forego, and when we thought thereon, Jack and I felt very much depressed in our spirits. I could see, also, that Peterkin grieved and sympathised with us, for when talking about this matter he refrained from jesting and bantering us upon it. As, however, a man's difficulties usually set him upon devising methods to overcome them, whereby he often discovers better things than those he may have lost, so this our difficulty induced us to think of searching for a large pool among the rocks, where the water should be deep enough for diving, yet so surrounded by rocks as to prevent sharks from getting at us. And such a pool we afterwards found, which proved to be very much better than our most sanguine hopes anticipated. It was situated not more than ten minutes' walk from our camp, and was in the form of a small deep bay or basin, the entrance to which, besides being narrow, was so shallow that no fish so large as a shark could get in, at least not unless he should be a remarkably thin one. Inside of this basin, which we called our Water Garden, the coral formations were much more wonderful, and the seaweed plants far more lovely and vividly coloured, than in the lagoon itself. And the water was so clear and still, that, although very deep, you could see the minutest object at the bottom. Besides this, there was a ledge of rock which overhung the basin at its deepest part, from which we could dive pleasantly, and whereon Peterkin could sit and see not only all the wonders I had described to him, but also see Jack and me creeping amongst the marine shrubbery at the bottom, like--as he expressed it--"two great white sea-monsters." During these excursions of ours to the bottom of the sea, we began to get an insight into the manners and customs of its inhabitants, and to make discoveries of wonderful things, the like of which we never before conceived. Among other things, we were deeply interested with the operations of the little coral insect which, I was informed by Jack, is supposed to have entirely constructed many of the numerous islands in the Pacific Ocean. And certainly, when we considered the great reef which these insects had formed round the island on which we were cast, and observed their ceaseless activity in building their myriad cells, it did at first seem as if this might be true; but then, again, when I looked at the mountains of the island, and reflected that there were thousands of such, many of them much higher, in the South Seas, I doubted that there must be some mistake here. But more of this hereafter. I also became much taken up with the manners and appearance of the anemones, and star-fish, and crabs, and sea-urchins, and such-like creatures; and was not content with watching those I saw during my dives in the Water Garden, but I must needs scoop out a hole in the coral rock close to it, which I filled with salt water, and stocked with sundry specimens of anemones and shell-fish, in order to watch more closely how they were in the habit of passing their time. Our burning-glass also now became a great treasure to me, as it enabled me to magnify, and so to perceive more clearly the forms and actions of these curious creatures of the deep. Having now got ourselves into a very comfortable condition, we began to talk of a project which we had long had in contemplation--namely, to travel entirely round the island; in order, first, to ascertain whether it contained any other productions which might be useful to us; and, second, to see whether there might be any place more convenient and suitable for our permanent residence than that on which we were now encamped. Not that we were in any degree dissatisfied with it; on the contrary, we entertained quite a home-feeling to our bower and its neighbourhood; but if a better place did exist, there was no reason why we should not make use of it. At any rate, it would be well to know of its existence. We had much earnest talk over this matter. But Jack proposed that, before undertaking such an excursion, we should supply ourselves with good defensive arms; for as we intended not only to go round all the shore, but to descend most of the valleys, before returning home, we should be likely to meet in with, he would not say _dangers_, but at least with everything that existed on the island, whatever that might be. "Besides," said Jack, "it won't do for us to live on cocoa-nuts and oysters always. No doubt they are very excellent in their way, but I think a little animal food now and then would be agreeable as well as good for us; and as there are many small birds among the trees, some of which are probably very good to eat, I think it would be a capital plan to make bows and arrows, with which we could easily knock them over." "First-rate!" cried Peterkin. "You will make the bows, Jack, and I'll try my hand at the arrows. The fact is, I'm quite tired of throwing stones at the birds. I began the very day we landed, I think, and have persevered up to the present time, but I've never hit anything yet." "You forget," said I, "you hit me one day on the shin." "Ah, true," replied Peterkin, "and a precious shindy you kicked up in consequence. But you were at least four yards away from the impudent paroquet I aimed at; so you see what a horribly bad shot I am." "But," said I, "Jack, you cannot make three bows and arrows before to-morrow, and would it not be a pity to waste time, now that we have made up our minds to go on this expedition? Suppose that you make one bow and arrow for yourself, and we can take our clubs?" "That's true, Ralph. The day is pretty far advanced, and I doubt if I can make even one bow before dark. To be sure, I might work by firelight, after the sun goes down." We had, up to this time, been in the habit of going to bed with the sun, as we had no pressing call to work o' nights; and, indeed, our work during the day was usually hard enough--what between fishing, and improving our bower, and diving in the Water Garden, and rambling in the woods; so that when night came we were usually very glad to retire to our beds. But now that we had a desire to work at night, we felt a wish for candles. "Won't a good blazing fire give you light enough?" inquired Peterkin. "Yes," replied Jack, "quite enough; but then it will give us a great deal more than enough of heat in this warm climate of ours." "True," said Peterkin; "I forgot that. It would roast us." "Well, as you're always doing that at any rate," remarked Jack, "we could scarcely call it a change. But the fact is, I've been thinking over this subject before. There is a certain nut growing in these islands which is called the candle-nut, because the natives use it instead of candles, and I know all about it, and how to prepare it for burning--" "Then why don't you do it?" interrupted Peterkin. "Why have you kept us in the dark so long, you vile philosopher?" "Because," said Jack, "I have not seen the tree yet, and I'm not sure that I should know either the tree or the nuts if I did see them. You see, I forget the description." "Ah! that's just the way with me," said Peterkin, with a deep sigh. "I never could keep in my mind for half-an-hour the few descriptions I ever attempted to remember. The very first voyage I ever made was caused by my mistaking a description, or forgetting it, which is the same thing. And a horrible voyage it was. I had to fight with the captain the whole way out, and made the homeward voyage by swimming!" "Come, Peterkin," said I, "you can't get even _me_ to believe that." "Perhaps not, but it's true notwithstanding," returned Peterkin, pretending to be hurt at my doubting his word. "Let us hear how it happened," said Jack, while a good-natured smile overspread his face. "Well, you must know," began Peterkin, "that the very day before I went to sea, I was greatly taken up with a game at hockey, which I was playing with my old school-fellows for the last time before leaving them--you see I was young then, Ralph." Peterkin gazed, in an abstracted and melancholy manner, out to sea. "Well, in the midst of the game, my uncle, who had taken all the bother and trouble of getting me bound 'prentice and rigged out, came and took me aside, and told me that he was called suddenly away from home, and would not be able to see me aboard, as he had intended. 'However,' said he, 'the captain knows you are coming, so that's not of much consequence; but as you'll have to find the ship yourself, you must remember her name and description. D'ye hear, boy?' I certainly did hear, but I'm afraid I did not understand, for my mind was so taken up with the game, which I saw my side was losing, that I began to grow impatient, and the moment my uncle finished his description of the ship and bade me good-bye, I bolted back to my game, with only a confused idea of three masts, and a green painted tafferel, and a gilt figure-head of Hercules with his club at the bow. Next day I was so much cast down with everybody saying good-bye, and a lot o' my female friends cryin' horribly over me, that I did not start for the harbour, where the ship was lying among a thousand others, till it was almost too late. So I had to run the whole way. When I reached the pier, there were so many masts, and so much confusion, that I felt quite humble-bumbled in my faculties. 'Now,' said I to myself, 'Peterkin, you're in a fix.' Then I fancied I saw a gilt figure-head and three masts, belonging to a ship just about to start; so I darted on board, but speedily jumped on shore again when I found that two of the masts belonged to another vessel, and the figure-head to a third! At last I caught sight of what I made sure was it--a fine large vessel just casting off her moorings. The tafferel was green. Three masts--yes, that must be it--and the gilt figure-head of Hercules. To be sure, it had a three-pronged pitchfork in its hand instead of a club; but that might be my uncle's mistake, or perhaps Hercules sometimes varied his weapons. 'Cast off!' roared a voice from the quarter-deck. 'Hold on!' cried I, rushing frantically through the crowd. 'Hold on! hold on!' repeated some of the bystanders, while the men at the ropes delayed for a minute. This threw the captain into a frightful rage; for some of his friends had come down to see him off, and having his orders contradicted so flatly was too much for him. However, the delay was sufficient. I took a race and a good leap; the ropes were cast off; the steam-tug gave a puff, and we started. Suddenly the captain walks up to me: 'Where did you come from, you scamp, and what do you want here?' "'Please, sir,' said I, touching my cap, 'I'm your new 'prentice come aboard.' "'New 'prentice!' said he, stamping; 'I've got no new 'prentice. My boys are all aboard already. This is a trick, you young blackguard. You've run away, you have;' and the captain stamped about the deck and swore dreadfully; for, you see, the thought of having to stop the ship and lower a boat and lose half-an-hour, all for the sake of sending a small boy ashore, seemed to make him very angry. Besides, it was blowin' fresh outside the harbour, so that to have let the steamer alongside to put me into it was no easy job. Just as we were passing the pierhead, where several boats were rowing into the harbour, the captain came up to me. "'You've run away, you blackguard,' he said, giving me a box on the ear. "'No, I haven't,' said I angrily; for the box was by no means a light one. "'Hark'ee, boy, can you swim?' "'Yes,' said I. "'Then do it;' and seizing me by my trousers and the nape of my neck, he tossed me over the side into the sea. The fellows in the boats at the end of the pier backed their oars on seeing this; but observing that I could swim, they allowed me to make the best of my way to the pierhead. So you see, Ralph, that I really did swim my first homeward voyage." Jack laughed, and patted Peterkin on the shoulder. "But tell us about the candle-nut tree," said I; "you were talking about it." "Very true," said Jack, "but I fear I can remember little about it. I believe the nut is about the size of a walnut; and I think that the leaves are white, but I am not sure." "Eh! ha! hum!" exclaimed Peterkin, "I saw a tree answering to that description this very day." "Did you?" cried Jack. "Is it far from this?" "No, not half a mile." "Then lead me to it," said Jack, seizing his axe. In a few minutes we were all three pushing through the underwood of the forest, headed by Peterkin. We soon came to the tree in question, which, after Jack had closely examined it, we concluded must be the candle-nut tree. Its leaves were of a beautiful silvery white, and formed a fine contrast to the dark-green foliage of the surrounding trees. We immediately filled our pockets with the nuts, after which Jack said-- "Now, Peterkin, climb that cocoa-nut tree and cut me one of the long branches." This was soon done, but it cost some trouble, for the stem was very high, and as Peterkin usually pulled nuts from the younger trees, he was not much accustomed to climbing the high ones. The leaf or branch was a very large one, and we were surprised at its size and strength. Viewed from a little distance, the cocoa-nut tree seems to be a tall, straight stem, without a single branch except at the top, where there is a tuft of feathery-looking leaves, that seem to wave like soft plumes in the wind. But when we saw one of these leaves or branches at our feet, we found it to be a strong stalk, about fifteen feet long, with a number of narrow, pointed leaflets ranged alternately on each side. But what seemed to us the most wonderful thing about it was a curious substance resembling cloth, which was wrapped round the thick end of the stalk, where it had been cut from the tree. Peterkin told us that he had the greatest difficulty in separating the branch from the stem on account of this substance, as it was wrapped quite round the tree, and, he observed, round all the other branches, thus forming a strong support to the large leaves while exposed to high winds. When I call this substance cloth I do not exaggerate. Indeed, with regard to all the things I saw during my eventful career in the South Seas, I have been exceedingly careful not to exaggerate, or in any way to mislead or deceive my readers. This cloth, I say, was remarkably like to coarse brown cotton cloth. It had a seam or fibre down the centre of it, from which diverged other fibres, about the size of a bristle. There were two layers of these fibres, very long and tough, the one layer crossing the other obliquely, and the whole was cemented together with a still finer fibrous and adhesive substance. When we regarded it attentively, we could with difficulty believe that it had not been woven by human hands. This remarkable piece of cloth we stripped carefully off, and found it to be above two feet long by a foot broad, and we carried it home with us as a great prize. Jack now took one of the leaflets, and, cutting out the central spine or stalk, hurried back with it to our camp. Having made a small fire, he baked the nuts slightly, and then peeled off the husks. After this he wished to bore a hole in them, which, not having anything better at hand at the time, he did with the point of our useless pencil-case. Then he strung them on the cocoa-nut spine, and on putting a light to the topmost nut, we found to our joy that it burned with a clear, beautiful flame; upon seeing which, Peterkin sprang up and danced round the fire for at least five minutes in the excess of his satisfaction. "Now, lads," said Jack, extinguishing our candle, "the sun will set in an hour, so we have no time to lose. I shall go and cut a young tree to make my bow out of, and you had better each of you go and select good strong sticks for clubs, and we'll set to work at them after dark." So saying he shouldered his axe and went off, followed by Peterkin, while I took up the piece of newly discovered cloth, and fell to examining its structure. So engrossed was I in this that I was still sitting in the same attitude and occupation when my companions returned. "I told you so!" cried Peterkin, with a loud laugh. "O Ralph, you're incorrigible. See, there's a club for you. I was sure, when we left you looking at that bit of stuff, that we would find you poring over it when we came back, so I just cut a club for you as well as for myself." "Thank you, Peterkin," said I. "It was kind of you to do that, instead of scolding me for a lazy fellow, as I confess I deserve." "Oh, as to that," returned Peterkin, "I'll blow you up yet, if you wish it; only it would be of no use if I did, for you're a perfect mule!" As it was now getting dark we lighted our candle, and placing it in a holder made of two crossing branches, inside of our bower, we seated ourselves on our leafy beds and began to work. "I intend to appropriate the bow for my own use," said Jack, chipping the piece of wood he had brought with his axe. "I used to be a pretty fair shot once. But what's that you're doing?" he added, looking at Peterkin, who had drawn the end of a long pole into the tent, and was endeavouring to fit a small piece of the hoop-iron to the end of it. "I'm going to enlist into the Lancers," answered Peterkin. "You see, Jack, I find the club rather an unwieldy instrument for my delicately formed muscles, and I flatter myself I shall do more execution with a spear." "Well, if length constitutes power," said Jack, "you'll certainly be invincible." The pole which Peterkin had cut was full twelve feet long, being a very strong but light and tough young tree, which merely required thinning at the butt to be a serviceable weapon. "That's a very good idea," said I. "Which--this?" inquired Peterkin, pointing to the spear. "Yes," I replied. "Humph!" said he; "you'd find it a pretty tough and matter-of-fact idea if you had it stuck through your gizzard, old boy!" "I mean the idea of making it is a good one," said I, laughing. "And, now I think of it, I'll change my plan too. I don't think much of a club, so I'll make me a sling out of this piece of cloth. I used to be very fond of slinging, ever since I read of David slaying Goliath the Philistine, and I was once thought to be expert at it." So I set to work to manufacture a sling. For a long time we all worked very busily without speaking. At length Peterkin looked up. "I say, Jack, I'm sorry to say I must apply to you for another strip of your handkerchief, to tie on this rascally head with. It's pretty well torn at any rate, so you won't miss it." Jack proceeded to comply with this request, when Peterkin suddenly laid his hand on his arm and arrested him. "Hist, man," said he, "be tender; you should never be needlessly cruel if you can help it. Do try to shave past Lord Nelson's mouth without tearing it, if possible! Thanks. There are plenty more handkerchiefs on the cocoa-nut trees." Poor Peterkin! with what pleasant feelings I recall and record his jests and humorous sayings now! While we were thus engaged, we were startled by a distant but most strange and horrible cry. It seemed to come from the sea, but was so far away that we could not clearly distinguish its precise direction. Rushing out of our bower, we hastened down to the beach and stayed to listen. Again it came quite loud and distinct on the night air--a prolonged, hideous cry, something like the braying of an ass. The moon had risen, and we could see the islands in and beyond the lagoon quite plainly, but there was no object visible to account for such a cry. A strong gust of wind was blowing from the point whence the sound came, but this died away while we were gazing out to sea. "What can it be?" said Peterkin in a low whisper, while we all involuntarily crept closer to each other. "Do you know," said Jack, "I have heard that mysterious sound twice before, but never so loud as to-night. Indeed it was so faint that I thought I must have merely fancied it, so, as I did not wish to alarm you, I said nothing about it." We listened for a long time for the sound again, but as it did not come, we returned to the bower and resumed our work. "Very strange," said Peterkin, quite gravely. "Do you believe in ghosts, Ralph?" "No," I answered, "I do not. Nevertheless I must confess that strange, unaccountable sounds, such as we have just heard, make me feel a little uneasy." "What say you to it, Jack?" "I neither believe in ghosts nor feel uneasy," he replied. "I never saw a ghost myself, and I never met with any one who had; and I have generally found that strange and unaccountable things have almost always been accounted for, and found to be quite simple on close examination. I certainly can't imagine what _that_ sound is; but I'm quite sure I shall find out before long, and if it's a ghost I'll--I'll--" "Eat it," cried Peterkin. "Yes, I'll eat it! Now, then, my bow and two arrows are finished; so if you are ready we had better turn in." By this time Peterkin had thinned down his spear and tied an iron point very cleverly to the end of it; I had formed a sling, the lines of which were composed of thin strips of the cocoa-nut cloth, plaited; and Jack had made a stout bow, nearly five feet long, with two arrows, feathered with two or three large plumes which some bird had dropped. They had no barbs, but Jack said that if arrows were well feathered they did not require iron points, but would fly quite well if merely sharpened at the point; which I did not know before. "A feathered arrow without a barb," said he, "is a good weapon, but a barbed arrow without feathers is utterly useless." The string of the bow was formed of our piece of whipcord, part of which, as he did not like to cut it, was rolled round the bow. Although thus prepared for a start on the morrow, we thought it wise to exercise ourselves a little in the use of our weapons before starting, so we spent the whole of the next day in practising. And it was well we did so, for we found that our arms were very imperfect, and that we were far from perfect in the use of them. First, Jack found that the bow was much too strong, and he had to thin it. Also the spear was much too heavy, and so had to be reduced in thickness, although nothing would induce Peterkin to have it shortened. My sling answered very well, but I had fallen so much out of practice that my first stone knocked off Peterkin's hat, and narrowly missed making a second Goliath of him. However, after having spent the whole day in diligent practice, we began to find some of our former expertness returning--at least Jack and I did. As for Peterkin, being naturally a neat-handed boy, he soon handled his spear well, and could run full tilt at a cocoa-nut, and hit it with great precision once out of every five times. But I feel satisfied that we owed much of our rapid success to the unflagging energy of Jack, who insisted that since we had made him captain, we should obey him; and he kept us at work from morning till night, perseveringly, at the same thing. Peterkin wished very much to run about and stick his spear into everything he passed; but Jack put up a cocoa-nut, and would not let him leave off running at that for a moment, except when he wanted to rest. We laughed at Jack for this, but we were both convinced that it did us much good. That night we examined and repaired our arms ere we lay down to rest, although we were much fatigued, in order that we might be in readiness to set out on our expedition at daylight on the following morning. Chapter IX Prepare for a journey round the island--Sagacious reflections--Mysterious appearances and startling occurrences. Scarcely had the sun shot its first ray across the bosom of the broad Pacific, when Jack sprang to his feet, and, hallooing in Peterkin's ear to awaken him, ran down the beach to take his customary dip in the sea. We did not, as was our wont, bathe that morning in our Water Garden, but, in order to save time, refreshed ourselves in the shallow water just opposite the bower. Our breakfast was also despatched without loss of time, and in less than an hour afterwards all our preparations for the journey were completed. In addition to his ordinary dress, Jack tied a belt of cocoa-nut cloth round his waist, into which he thrust the axe. I was also advised to put on a belt and carry a short cudgel or bludgeon in it; for, as Jack truly remarked, the sling would be of little use if we should chance to come to close quarters with any wild animal. As for Peterkin, notwithstanding that he carried such a long, and I must add, frightful-looking spear over his shoulder, we could not prevail on him to leave his club behind; "for," said he, "a spear at close quarters is not worth a button." I must say that it seemed to me that the club was, to use his own style of language, not worth a button-hole; for it was all knotted over at the head, something like the club which I remember to have observed in picture-books of Jack the Giant Killer, besides being so heavy that he required to grasp it with both hands in order to wield it at all. However, he took it with him, and in this manner we set out upon our travels. We did not consider it necessary to carry any food with us, as we knew that wherever we went we should be certain to fall in with cocoa-nut trees; having which we were amply supplied, as Peterkin said, with meat and drink and pocket-handkerchiefs! I took the precaution, however, to put the burning-glass into my pocket lest we should want fire. The morning was exceedingly lovely. It was one of that very still and peaceful sort which made the few noises that we heard seem to be _quiet_ noises. I know no other way of expressing this idea. Noises which, so far from interrupting the universal tranquillity of earth, sea, and sky, rather tended to reveal to us how quiet the world round us really was. Such sounds as I refer to were, the peculiar melancholy--yet, it seemed to me, cheerful--plaint of sea-birds floating on the glassy waters or sailing in the sky, also the subdued twittering of little birds among the bushes, the faint ripples on the beach, and the solemn boom of the surf upon the distant coral reef. We felt very glad in our hearts as we walked along the sands side by side. For my part, I felt so deeply overjoyed that I was surprised at my own sensations, and fell into a reverie upon the causes of happiness. I came to the conclusion that a state of profound peace and repose, both in regard to outward objects and within the soul, is the happiest condition in which man can be placed; for although I had many a time been most joyful and happy when engaged in bustling, energetic, active pursuits or amusements, I never found that such joy or satisfaction was so deep or so pleasant to reflect upon as that which I now experienced. And I was the more confirmed in this opinion when I observed, and indeed was told by himself, that Peterkin's happiness was also very great; yet he did not express this by dancing as was his wont, nor did he give so much as a single shout, but walked quietly between us with his eye sparkling, and a joyful smile upon his countenance. My reader must not suppose that I thought all this in the clear and methodical manner in which I have set it down here. These thoughts did indeed pass through my mind, but they did so in a very confused and indefinite manner, for I was young at that time, and not much given to deep reflections. Neither did I consider that the peace whereof I write is not to be found in this world--at least in its perfection, although I have since learned that by religion a man may attain to a very great degree of it. I have said that Peterkin walked along the sands between us. We had two ways of walking together about our island. When we travelled through the woods, we always did so in single file, as by this method we advanced with greater facility, the one treading in the other's footsteps. In such cases Jack always took the lead, Peterkin followed, and I brought up the rear. But when we travelled along the sands, which extended almost in an unbroken line of glistening white round the island, we marched abreast, as we found this method more sociable, and every way more pleasant. Jack, being the tallest, walked next the sea, and Peterkin marched between us, as by this arrangement either of us could talk to him or he to us, while if Jack and I happened to wish to converse together, we could conveniently do so over Peterkin's head. Peterkin used to say, in reference to this arrangement, that had he been as tall as either of us, our order of march might have been the same; for as Jack often used to scold him for letting everything we said to him pass in at one ear and out at the other, his head could of course form no interruption to our discourse. We were now fairly started. Half a mile's walk conveyed us round a bend in the land which shut out our bower from view, and for some time we advanced at a brisk pace without speaking, though our eyes were not idle, but noted everything, in the woods, on the shore, or in the sea, that was interesting. After passing the ridge of land that formed one side of our valley--the Valley of the Wreck--we beheld another small vale lying before us in all the luxuriant loveliness of tropical vegetation. We had, indeed, seen it before from the mountain-top, but we had no idea that it would turn out to be so much more lovely when we were close to it. We were about to commence the exploration of this valley, when Peterkin stopped us, and directed our attention to a very remarkable appearance in advance along the shore. "What's yon, think you?" said he, levelling his spear, as if he expected an immediate attack from the object in question, though it was full half a mile distant. As he spoke, there appeared a white column above the rocks, as if of steam or spray. It rose upwards to a height of several feet, and then disappeared. Had this been near the sea, we would not have been so greatly surprised, as it might in that case have been the surf, for at this part of the coast the coral reef approached so near to the island that in some parts it almost joined it. There was therefore no lagoon between, and the heavy surf of the ocean beat almost up to the rocks. But this white column appeared about fifty yards inland. The rocks at the place were rugged, and they stretched across the sandy beach into the sea. Scarce had we ceased expressing our surprise at this sight, when another column flew upwards for a few seconds, not far from the spot where the first had been seen, and disappeared; and so, at long, irregular intervals, these strange sights recurred. We were now quite sure that the columns were watery or composed of spray, but what caused them we could not guess, so we determined to go and see. In a few minutes we gained the spot, which was very rugged and precipitous, and, moreover, quite damp with the falling of the spray. We had much ado to pass over dry-shod. The ground also was full of holes here and there. Now, while we stood anxiously waiting for the reappearance of these water-spouts, we heard a low, rumbling sound near us, which quickly increased to a gurgling and hissing noise, and a moment afterwards a thick spout of water burst upwards from a hole in the rock, and spouted into the air with much violence, and so close to where Jack and I were standing that it nearly touched us. We sprang aside, but not before a cloud of spray descended, and drenched us both to the skin. Peterkin, who was standing farther off, escaped with a few drops, and burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter on beholding our miserable plight. "Mind your eye!" he shouted eagerly, "there goes another!" The words were scarcely out of his mouth when there came up a spout from another hole, which served us exactly in the same manner as before. Peterkin now shrieked with laughter; but his merriment was abruptly put a stop to by the gurgling noise occurring close to where he stood. "Where'll it spout this time, I wonder?" he said, looking about with some anxiety, and preparing to run. Suddenly there came a loud hiss or snort; a fierce spout of water burst up between Peterkin's legs, blew him off his feet, enveloped him in its spray, and hurled him to the ground. He fell with so much violence that we feared he must have broken some of his bones, and ran anxiously to his assistance; but fortunately he had fallen on a clump of tangled herbage, in which he lay sprawling in a most deplorable condition. It was now our turn to laugh; but as we were not yet quite sure that he was unhurt, and as we knew not when or where the next spout might arise, we assisted him hastily to jump up and hurry from the spot. I may here add that, although I am quite certain that the spout of water was very strong, and that it blew Peterkin completely off his legs, I am not quite certain of the exact height to which it lifted him, being somewhat startled by the event, and blinded partially by the spray, so that my power of observation was somewhat impaired for the moment. "What's to be done now?" asked Peterkin ruefully. "Make a fire, lad, and dry ourselves," replied Jack. "And here is material ready to our hand," said I, picking up a dried branch of a tree, as we hurried up to the woods. In about an hour after this mishap our clothes were again dried. While they were hanging up before the fire, we walked down to the beach, and soon observed that these curious spouts took place immediately after the fall of a huge wave, never before it; and, moreover, that the spouts did not take place excepting when the billow was an extremely large one. From this we concluded that there must be a subterraneous channel in the rock into which the water was driven by the larger waves, and finding no way of escape except through these small holes, was thus forced up violently through them. At any rate, we could not conceive any other reason for these strange water-spouts, and as this seemed a very simple and probable one, we forthwith adopted it. "I say, Ralph, what's that in the water; is it a shark?" said Jack, just as we were about to quit the place. I immediately ran to the overhanging ledge of rock, from which he was looking down into the sea, and bent over it. There I saw a very faint pale object of a greenish colour, which seemed to move slightly, while I looked at it. "It's like a fish of some sort," said I. "Hallo, Peterkin!" cried Jack, "fetch your spear; here's work for it." But when we tried to reach the object, the spear proved to be too short. "There now," said Peterkin with a sneer, "you were always telling me it was too long." Jack now drove the spear forcibly towards the object, and let go his hold; but although it seemed to be well aimed, he must have missed, for the handle soon rose again; and when the spear was drawn up, there was the pale green object in exactly the same spot, slowly moving its tail. "Very odd," said Jack. But although it was undoubtedly very odd, and although Jack and all of us plunged the spear at it repeatedly, we could neither hit it nor drive it away, so we were compelled to continue our journey without discovering what it was. I was very much perplexed at this strange appearance in the water, and could not get it out of my mind for a long time afterwards. However, I quieted myself by resolving that I would pay a visit to it again at some more convenient season. Chapter X Make discovery of many excellent roots and fruits--The resources of the Coral Island gradually unfolded--The banyan tree--Another tree which is supported by natural planks--Waterfowl found--A very remarkable discovery, and a very peculiar murder--We luxuriate on the fat of the land. Our examination of the little valley proved to be altogether most satisfactory. We found in it not only similar trees to those we had already seen in our own valley, but also one or two others of a different species. We had also the satisfaction of discovering a peculiar vegetable, which Jack concluded must certainly be that of which he had read as being very common among the South Sea islanders, and which was named _taro_. Also we found a large supply of yams, and another root like a potato in appearance. As these were all quite new to us, we regarded our lot as a most fortunate one, in being thus cast on an island which was so prolific and so well stored with all the necessaries of life. Long afterwards we found out that this island of ours was no better in these respects than thousands of other islands in those seas. Indeed, many of them were much richer and more productive; but that did not render us the less grateful for our present good fortune. We each put one of these roots in our pocket, intending to use them for our supper; of which more hereafter. We also saw many beautiful birds here, and traces of some four-footed animal again. Meanwhile the sun began to descend, so we returned to the shore, and pushed on round the spouting rocks into the next valley. This was that valley of which I have spoken as running across the entire island. It was by far the largest and most beautiful that we had yet looked upon. Here were trees of every shape and size and hue which it is possible to conceive of, many of which we had not seen in the other valleys; for, the stream in this valley being larger, and the mould much richer than in the Valley of the Wreck, it was clothed with a more luxuriant growth of trees and plants. Some trees were dark glossy green, others of a rich and warm hue, contrasting well with those of a pale light green, which were everywhere abundant. Among these we recognised the broad dark heads of the bread-fruit, with its golden fruit; the pure, silvery foliage of the candle-nut, and several species which bore a strong resemblance to the pine; while here and there, in groups and in single trees, rose the tall forms of the cocoa-nut palms, spreading abroad, and waving their graceful plumes high above all the rest, as if they were a superior race of stately giants keeping guard over these luxuriant forests. Oh, it was a most enchanting scene, and I thanked God for having created such delightful spots for the use of man. Now, while we were gazing around us in silent admiration, Jack uttered an exclamation of surprise, and pointing to an object a little to one side of us, said-- "That's a banyan tree." "And what's a banyan tree?" inquired Peterkin, as we walked towards it. "A very curious one, as you shall see presently," replied Jack. "It is called the _aoa_ here, if I recollect rightly, and has a wonderful peculiarity about it. What an enormous one it is, to be sure!" _"It!"_ repeated Peterkin; "why, there are dozens of banyans here! What do you mean by talking bad grammar? Is your philosophy deserting you, Jack?" "There is but one tree here of this kind," returned Jack, "as you will perceive if you will examine it." And, sure enough, we did find that what we had supposed was a forest of trees was in reality only one. Its bark was of a light colour, and had a shining appearance, the leaves being lance-shaped, small, and of a beautiful pea-green. But the wonderful thing about it was, that the branches, which grew out from the stem horizontally, sent down long shoots or fibres to the ground, which, taking root, had themselves become trees, and were covered with bark like the tree itself. Many of these fibres had descended from the branches at various distances, and thus supported them on natural pillars, some of which were so large and strong that it was not easy at first to distinguish the offspring from the parent stem. The fibres were of all sizes and in all states of advancement, from the pillars we have just mentioned to small cords which hung down and were about to take root, and thin brown threads still far from the ground, which swayed about with every motion of wind. In short, it seemed to us that, if there were only space afforded to it, this single tree would at length cover the whole island. Shortly after this we came upon another remarkable tree, which, as its peculiar formation afterwards proved extremely useful to us, merits description. It was a splendid chestnut, but its proper name Jack did not know. However, there were quantities of fine nuts upon it, some of which we put in our pockets. But its stem was the most wonderful part of it. It rose to about twelve feet without a branch, and was not of great thickness: on the contrary, it was remarkably slender for the size of the tree; but, to make up for this, there were four or five wonderful projections in this stem, which I cannot better describe than by asking the reader to suppose that five planks of two inches thick and three feet broad had been placed round the trunk of the tree, with their _edges_ closely fixed to it, from the ground up to the branches, and that these planks had been covered over with the bark of the tree and incorporated with it. In short, they were just natural buttresses, without which the stem could not have supported its heavy and umbrageous top. We found these chestnuts to be very numerous. They grew chiefly on the banks of the stream, and were of all sizes. While we were examining a small tree of this kind, Jack chipped a piece off a buttress with his axe, and found the wood to be firm and easily cut. He then struck the axe into it with all his force, and very soon split it off close to the tree, first, however, having cut it across transversely above and below. By this means he satisfied himself that we could now obtain short planks, as it were all ready sawn, of any size and thickness that we desired; which was a very great discovery indeed, perhaps the most important we had yet made. We now wended our way back to the coast, intending to encamp near the beach, as we found that the mosquitoes were troublesome in the forest. On our way we could not help admiring the birds which flew and chirped around us. Among them we observed a pretty kind of paroquet, with a green body, a blue head, and a red breast; also a few beautiful turtle-doves, and several flocks of wood-pigeons. The hues of many of these birds were extremely vivid--bright green, blue, and scarlet being the prevailing tints. We made several attempts throughout the day to bring down one of these, both with the bow and the sling--not for mere sport, but to ascertain whether they were good for food. But we invariably missed, although once or twice we were very near hitting. As evening drew on, however, a flock of pigeons flew past. I slung a stone into the midst of them at a venture, and had the good fortune to kill one. We were startled, soon after, by a loud whistling noise above our heads; and on looking up, saw a flock of wild-ducks making for the coast. We watched these, and observing where they alighted, followed them up until we came upon a most lovely blue lake, not more than two hundred yards long, embosomed in verdant trees. Its placid surface, which reflected every leaf and stem as if in a mirror, was covered with various species of wild ducks, feeding among the sedges and broad-leaved water-plants which floated on it, while numerous birds like water-hens ran to and fro most busily on its margin. These all with one accord flew tumultuously away the instant we made our appearance. While walking along the margin we observed fish in the water, but of what sort we could not tell. Now, as we neared the shore, Jack and I said we would go a little out of our way to see if we could procure one of those ducks; so, directing Peterkin to go straight to the shore and kindle a fire, we separated, promising to rejoin him speedily. But we did not find the ducks, although we made a diligent search for half-an-hour. We were about to retrace our steps, when we were arrested by one of the strangest sights that we had yet beheld. Just in front of us, at the distance of about ten yards, grew a superb tree, which certainly was the largest we had yet seen on the island. Its trunk was at least five feet in diameter, with a smooth grey bark; above this the spreading branches were clothed with light green leaves, amid which were clusters of bright yellow fruit, so numerous as to weigh down the boughs with their great weight. This fruit seemed to be of the plum species, of an oblong form, and a good deal larger than the magnum-bonum plum. The ground at the foot of this tree was thickly strewn with the fallen fruit, in the midst of which lay sleeping, in every possible attitude, at least twenty hogs of all ages and sizes, apparently quite surfeited with a recent banquet. Jack and I could scarce restrain our laughter as we gazed at these coarse, fat, ill-looking animals while they lay groaning and snoring heavily amid the remains of their supper. "Now, Ralph," said Jack, in a low whisper, "put a stone in your sling--a good big one--and let fly at that fat fellow with his back toward you. I'll try to put an arrow into yon little pig." "Don't you think we had better put them up first?" I whispered; "it seems cruel to kill them while asleep." "If I wanted _sport,_ Ralph, I would certainly set them up; but as we only want _pork,_ we'll let them lie. Besides, we're not sure of killing them; so, fire away." Thus admonished, I slung my stone with so good aim that it went bang against the hog's flank as if against the head of a drum; but it had no other effect than that of causing the animal to start to its feet, with a frightful yell of surprise, and scamper away. At the same instant Jack's bow twanged, and the arrow pinned the little pig to the ground by the ear. "I've missed, after all," cried Jack, darting forward with uplifted axe, while the little pig uttered a loud squeal, tore the arrow from the ground, and ran away with it, along with the whole drove, into the bushes and disappeared, though we heard them screaming long afterwards in the distance. "That's very provoking, now," said Jack, rubbing the point of his nose. "Very," I replied, stroking my chin. "Well, we must make haste and rejoin Peterkin," said Jack. "It's getting late." And without further remark we threaded our way quickly through the woods towards the shore. When we reached it, we found wood laid out, the fire lighted and beginning to kindle up, with other signs of preparation for our encampment, but Peterkin was nowhere to be found. We wondered very much at this; but Jack suggested that he might have gone to fetch water; so he gave a shout to let him know that we had arrived, and sat down upon a rock, while I threw off my jacket, and seized the axe, intending to split up one or two billets of wood. But I had scarce moved from the spot when, in the distance, we heard a most appalling shriek, which was followed up by a chorus of yells from the hogs, and a loud hurrah. "I do believe," said I, "that Peterkin has met with the hogs." "When Greek meets Greek," said Jack, soliloquising, "then comes the tug of--" "Hurrah!" shouted Peterkin in the distance. We turned hastily towards the direction whence the sound came, and soon descried Peterkin walking along the beach towards us with a little pig transfixed on the end of his long spear! "Well done, my boy!" exclaimed Jack, slapping him on the shoulder when he came up; "you're the best shot amongst us." "Look here, Jack!" cried Peterkin, as he disengaged the animal from his spear. "Do you recognise that hole?" said he, pointing to the pig's ear; "and are you familiar with this arrow, eh?" "Well, I declare!" said Jack. "Of course you do," interrupted Peterkin; "but, pray, restrain your declarations at this time, and let's have supper, for I'm uncommonly hungry, I can tell you; and it's no joke to charge a whole herd of swine with their great-grandmother bristling like a giant porcupine at the head of them!" We now set about preparing supper; and, truly a good display of viands we made, when all was laid out on a flat rock in the light of the blazing fire. There was, first of all, the little pig; then there were the taro-root, and the yam, and the potato, and six plums; and, lastly, the wood-pigeon. To these Peterkin added a bit of sugar-cane, which he had cut from a little patch of that plant which he had found not long after separating from us; "and," said he, "the patch was somewhat in a square form, which convinces me it must have been planted by man." "Very likely," replied Jack. "From all we have seen, I'm inclined to think that some of the savages must have dwelt here long ago." We found no small difficulty in making up our minds how we were to cook the pig. None of us had ever cut up one before, and we did not know exactly how to begin; besides, we had nothing but the axe to do it with, our knife having been forgotten. At last Jack started up and said-- "Don't let us waste more time talking about it, boys.--Hold it up, Peterkin. There, lay the hind-leg on this block of wood--so;" and he cut it off, with a large portion of the haunch, at a single blow of the axe. "Now the other--that's it." And having thus cut off the two hind-legs, he made several deep gashes in them, thrust a sharp-pointed stick through each, and stuck them up before the blaze to roast. The wood-pigeon was then split open, quite flat, washed clean in salt water, and treated in a similar manner. While these were cooking, we scraped a hole in the sand and ashes under the fire, into which we put our vegetables, and covered them up. The taro-root was of an oval shape, about ten inches long and four or five thick. It was of a mottled-grey colour, and had a thick rind. We found it somewhat like an Irish potato, and exceedingly good. The yam was roundish, and had a rough brown skin. It was very sweet and well flavoured. The potato, we were surprised to find, was quite sweet and exceedingly palatable, as also were the plums; and, indeed, the pork and pigeon too, when we came to taste them. Altogether this was decidedly the most luxurious supper we had enjoyed for many a day; and Jack said it was out-of-sight better than we ever got on board ship; and Peterkin said he feared that if we should remain long on the island he would infallibly become a glutton or an epicure: whereat Jack remarked that he need not fear that, for he was _both_ already! And so, having eaten our fill, not forgetting to finish off with a plum, we laid ourselves comfortably down to sleep upon a couch of branches, under the overhanging ledge of a coral rock. Chapter XI Effects of over-eating, and reflections thereon--Humble advice regarding cold water--The "horrible cry" accounted for--The curious birds called penguins--Peculiarity of the cocoa-nut palm--Questions on the formation of coral islands--Mysterious footsteps--Strange discoveries and sad sights. When we awoke on the following morning, we found that the sun was already a good way above the horizon, so I came to the conclusion that a heavy supper is not conducive to early rising. Nevertheless we felt remarkably strong and well, and much disposed to have our breakfast. First, however, we had our customary morning bathe, which refreshed us greatly. I have often wondered very much in after years that the inhabitants of my own dear land did not make more frequent use of this most charming element, water. I mean in the way of cold bathing. Of course, I have perceived that it is not convenient for them to go into the sea or the rivers in winter, as we used to do on the Coral Island; but then I knew from experience that a large washing-tub and a sponge do form a most pleasant substitute. The feelings of freshness, of cleanliness, of vigour, and extreme hilarity, that always followed my bathes in the sea, and even, when in England, my ablutions in the wash-tub, were so delightful that I would sooner have gone without my breakfast than without my bathe in cold water. My readers will forgive me for asking whether they are in the habit of bathing thus every morning; and if they answer "No," they will pardon me for recommending them to begin at once. Of late years, since retiring from the stirring life of adventure which I have led so long in foreign climes, I have heard of a system called the cold-water cure. Now, I do not know much about that system, so I do not mean to uphold it, neither do I intend to run it down. Perhaps, in reference to it, I may just hint that there may be too much of a good thing. I know not, but of this I am quite certain, that there may also be too little of a good thing; and the great delight I have had in cold bathing during the course of my adventurous career inclines me to think that it is better to risk taking too much than to content one's self with too little. Such is my opinion, derived from much experience; but I put it before my readers with the utmost diffidence and with profound modesty, knowing that it may possibly jar with their feelings of confidence in their own ability to know and judge as to what is best and fittest in reference to their own affairs. But, to return from this digression, for which I humbly crave forgiveness. We had not advanced on our journey much above a mile or so, and were just beginning to feel the pleasant glow that usually accompanies vigorous exercise, when, on turning a point that revealed to us a new and beautiful cluster of islands, we were suddenly arrested by the appalling cry which had so alarmed us a few nights before. But this time we were by no means so much alarmed us on the previous occasion, because, whereas at that time it was night, now it was day; and I have always found, though I am unable to account for it, that daylight banishes many of the fears that are apt to assail us in the dark. On hearing the sound, Peterkin instantly threw forward his spear. "Now, what can it be?" said he, looking round at Jack. "I tell you what it is: if we are to go on being pulled up in a constant state of horror and astonishment, as we have been for the last week, the sooner we're out o' this island the better, notwithstanding the yams and lemonade, and pork and plums!" Peterkin's remark was followed by a repetition of the cry, louder than before. "It comes from one of these islands," said Jack. "It must be the ghost of a jackass, then," said Peterkin, "for I never heard anything so like." We all turned our eyes towards the cluster of islands, where, on the largest, we observed curious objects moving on the shore. "Soldiers they are--that's flat!" cried Peterkin, gazing at them in the utmost amazement. And, in truth, Peterkin's remark seemed to me to be correct; for, at the distance from which we saw them, they appeared to be an army of soldiers. There they stood, rank and file, in lines and in squares, marching and countermarching, with blue coats and white trousers. While we were looking at them, the dreadful cry came again over the water, and Peterkin suggested that it must be a regiment sent out to massacre the natives in cold blood. At this remark Jack laughed and said-- "Why, Peterkin, they are penguins!" "Penguins?" repeated Peterkin. "Ay, penguins, Peterkin, penguins--nothing more or less than big sea-birds, as you shall see one of these days, when we pay them a visit in our boat, which I mean to set about building the moment we return to our bower." "So, then, our dreadful yelling ghosts and our murdering army of soldiers," remarked Peterkin, "have dwindled down to penguins--big sea-birds! Very good. Then I propose that we continue our journey as fast as possible, lest our island should be converted into a dream before we get completely round it." Now, as we continued on our way, I pondered much over this new discovery, and the singular appearance of these birds, of which Jack could only give us a very slight and vague account; and I began to long to commence our boat, in order that we might go and inspect them more narrowly. But by degrees these thoughts left me, and I began to be much taken up again with the interesting peculiarities of the country which we were passing through. The second night we passed in a manner somewhat similar to the first, at about two-thirds of the way round the island, as we calculated, and we hoped to sleep on the night following at our bower. I will not here note so particularly all that we said and saw during the course of this second day, as we did not make any further discoveries of great importance. The shore along which we travelled, and the various parts of the woods through which we passed, were similar to those which have been already treated of. There were one or two observations that we made, however, and these were as follows:-- We saw that, while many of the large fruit-bearing trees grew only in the valleys, and some of them only near the banks of the streams, where the soil was peculiarly rich, the cocoa-nut palm grew in every place whatsoever; not only on the hillsides, but also on the seashore, and even, as has been already stated, on the coral reef itself, where the soil, if we may use the name, was nothing better than loose sand mingled with broken shells and coral rock. So near to the sea, too, did this useful tree grow, that in many places its roots were washed by the spray from the breakers. Yet we found the trees growing thus on the sands to be quite as luxuriant as those growing in the valleys, and the fruit as good and refreshing also. Besides this, I noticed that on the summit of the high mountain, which we once more ascended at a different point from our first ascent, were found abundance of shells and broken coral formations; which Jack and I agreed proved either that this island must have once been under the sea, or that the sea must once have been above the island. In other words, that as shells and coral could not possibly climb to the mountain-top, they must have been washed upon it while the mountain-top was on a level with the sea. We pondered this very much; and we put to ourselves the question, "What raised the island to its present height above the sea?" But to this we could by no means give to ourselves a satisfactory reply. Jack thought it might have been blown up by a volcano; and Peterkin said he thought it must have jumped up of its own accord! We also noticed, what had escaped us before, that the solid rocks of which the island was formed were quite different from the live coral rocks on the shore, where the wonderful little insects were continually working. They seemed, indeed, to be of the same material--a substance like limestone; but while the coral rocks were quite full of minute cells in which the insects lived, the other rocks inland were hard and solid, without the appearance of cells at all. Our thoughts and conversations on this subject were sometimes so profound that Peterkin said we should certainly get drowned in them at last, even although we were such good divers! Nevertheless we did not allow his pleasantry on this and similar points to deter us from making our notes and observations as we went along. We found several more droves of hogs in the woods, but abstained from killing any of them, having more than sufficient for our present necessities. We saw also many of their footprints in this neighbourhood. Among these we also observed the footprints of a smaller animal, which we examined with much care, but could form no certain opinion as to them. Peterkin thought they were those of a little dog, but Jack and I thought differently. We became very curious on this matter, the more so that we observed these footprints to lie scattered about in one locality, as if the animal which had made them was wandering round about in a very irregular manner, and without any object in view. Early in the forenoon of our third day we observed these footprints to be much more numerous than ever, and in one particular spot they diverged off into the woods in a regular beaten track, which was, however, so closely beset with bushes that we pushed through it with difficulty. We had now become so anxious to find out what animal this was and where it went to, that we determined to follow the track, and, if possible, clear up the mystery. Peterkin said, in a bantering tone, that he was sure it would be cleared up, as usual, in some frightfully simple way, and prove to be no mystery at all! The beaten track seemed much too large to have been formed by the animal itself, and we concluded that some larger animal had made it, and that the smaller one made use of it. But everywhere the creeping plants and tangled bushes crossed our path, so that we forced our way along with some difficulty. Suddenly, as we came upon an open space, we heard a faint cry, and observed a black animal standing in the track before us. "A wild-cat!" cried Jack, fitting an arrow to his bow, and discharging it so hastily that he missed the animal, and hit the earth about half a foot to one side of it. To our surprise the wild-cat did not fly, but walked slowly towards the arrow, and snuffed at it. "That's the most comical wild-cat I ever saw!" cried Jack. "It's a tame wild-cat, I think," said Peterkin, levelling his spear to make a charge. "Stop!" cried I, laying my hand on his shoulder; "I do believe the poor beast is blind. See, it strikes against the branches as it walks along. It must be a very old one;" and I hastened towards it. "Only think," said Peterkin, with a suppressed laugh, "of a superannuated wild-cat!" We now found that the poor cat was not only blind, or nearly so, but extremely deaf, as it did not hear our footsteps until we were quite close behind it. Then it sprang round, and putting up its back and tail, while the black hair stood all on end, uttered a hoarse mew and a fuff. "Poor thing," said Peterkin, gently extending his hand, and endeavouring to pat the cat's head. "Poor pussy; chee, chee, chee; puss, puss, puss; cheetie pussy!" No sooner did the cat hear these sounds than all signs of anger fled, and advancing eagerly to Peterkin, it allowed itself to be stroked, and rubbed itself against his legs, purring loudly all the time, and showing every symptom of the most extreme delight. "It's no more a wild-cat than I am!" cried Peterkin, taking it in his arms; "it's quite tame.--Poor pussy, cheetie pussy!" We now crowded around Peterkin, and were not a little surprised, and, to say truth, a good deal affected, by the sight of the poor animal's excessive joy. It rubbed its head against Peterkin's cheek, licked his chin, and thrust its head almost violently into his neck, while it purred more loudly than I ever heard a cat purr before, and appeared to be so much overpowered by its feelings, that it occasionally mewed and purred almost in the same breath. Such demonstrations of joy and affection led us at once to conclude that this poor cat must have known man before, and we conjectured that it had been left either accidentally or by design on the island many years ago, and was now evincing its extreme joy at meeting once more with human beings. While we were fondling the cat and talking about it, Jack glanced round the open space in the midst of which we stood. "Hallo!" exclaimed he, "this looks something like a clearing. The axe has been at work here. Just look at these tree-stumps." We now turned to examine these, and without doubt we found trees that had been cut down here and there, also stumps and broken branches; all of which, however, were completely covered over with moss, and bore evidence of having been in this condition for some years. No human footprints were to be seen either on the track or among the bushes, but those of the cat were found everywhere. We now determined to follow up the track as far as it went, and Peterkin put the cat down; but it seemed to be so weak, and mewed so very pitifully, that he took it up again and carried it in his arms, where in a few minutes it fell sound asleep. About ten yards farther on, the felled trees became more numerous, and the track, diverging to the right, followed for a short space the banks of a stream. Suddenly we came to a spot where once must have been a rude bridge, the stones of which were scattered in the stream, and those on each bank entirely covered over with moss. In silent surprise and expectancy we continued to advance, and, a few yards farther on, beheld, under the shelter of some bread-fruit trees, a small hut or cottage. I cannot hope to convey to my readers a very correct idea of the feelings that affected us on witnessing this unexpected sight. We stood for a long time in silent wonder, for there was a deep and most melancholy stillness about the place that quite overpowered us; and when we did at length speak, it was in subdued whispers, as if we were surrounded by some awful or supernatural influence. Even Peterkin's voice, usually so quick and lively on all occasions, was hushed now; for there was a dreariness about this silent, lonely, uninhabited cottage--so strange in its appearance, so far away from the usual dwellings of man, so old, decayed, and deserted in its aspect--that fell upon our spirits like a thick cloud, and blotted out as with a pall the cheerful sunshine that had filled us since the commencement of our tour round the island. The hut or cottage was rude and simple in its construction. It was not more than twelve feet long by ten feet broad, and about seven or eight feet high. It had one window, or rather a small frame in which a window might perhaps once have been, but which was now empty. The door was exceedingly low, and formed of rough boards, and the roof was covered with broad cocoa-nut and plantain leaves. But every part of it was in a state of the utmost decay. Moss and green matter grew in spots all over it. The woodwork was quite perforated with holes; the roof had nearly fallen in, and appeared to be prevented from doing so altogether by the thick matting of creeping-plants and the interlaced branches which years of neglect had allowed to cover it almost entirely; while the thick, luxuriant branches of the bread-fruit and other trees spread above it, and flung a deep, sombre shadow over the spot, as if to guard it from the heat and the light of day. We conversed long and in whispers about this strange habitation ere we ventured to approach it; and when at length we did so, it was, at least on my part, with feelings of awe. At first Jack endeavoured to peep in at the window, but from the deep shadow of the trees already mentioned, and the gloom within, he could not clearly discern objects; so we lifted the latch and pushed open the door. We observed that the latch was made of iron, and almost eaten away with rust. In the like condition were also the hinges, which creaked as the door swung back. On entering, we stood still and gazed around us, while we were much impressed with the dreary stillness of the room. But what we saw there surprised and shocked us not a little. There was no furniture in the apartment save a little wooden stool and an iron pot, the latter almost eaten through with rust. In the corner farthest from the door was a low bedstead, on which lay two skeletons, embedded in a little heap of dry dust. With beating hearts we went forward to examine them. One was the skeleton of a man, the other that of a dog, which was extended close beside that of the man, with its head resting on his bosom. Now we were very much concerned about this discovery, and could scarce refrain from tears on beholding these sad remains. After some time we began to talk about what we had seen, and to examine in and around the hut, in order to discover some clue to the name or history of this poor man, who had thus died in solitude, with none to mourn his loss save his cat and his faithful dog. But we found nothing--neither a book nor a scrap of paper. We found, however, the decayed remnants of what appeared to have been clothing, and an old axe. But none of these things bore marks of any kind; and, indeed, they were so much decayed as to convince us that they had lain in the condition in which we found them for many years. This discovery now accounted to us for the tree-stump at the top of the mountain with the initials cut on it; also for the patch of sugar-cane and other traces of man which we had met with in the course of our rambles over the island. And we were much saddened by the reflection that the lot of this poor wanderer might possibly be our own, after many years' residence on the island, unless we should be rescued by the visit of some vessel or the arrival of natives. Having no clue whatever to account for the presence of this poor human being in such a lonely spot, we fell to conjecturing what could have brought him there. I was inclined to think that he most have been a shipwrecked sailor, whose vessel had been lost here, and all the crew been drowned except himself and his dog and cat. But Jack thought it more likely that he had run away from his vessel, and had taken the dog and cat to keep him company. We were also much occupied in our minds with the wonderful difference between the cat and the dog. For here we saw that while the one perished like a loving friend by its master's side, with its head resting on his bosom, the other had sought to sustain itself by prowling abroad in the forest, and had lived in solitude to a good old age. However, we did not conclude from this that the cat was destitute of affection, for we could not forget its emotions on first meeting with us; but we saw from this that the dog had a great deal more of generous love in its nature than the cat, because it not only found it impossible to live after the death of its master, but it must needs, when it came to die, crawl to his side and rest its head upon his lifeless breast. While we were thinking on these things, and examining into everything about the room, we were attracted by an exclamation from Peterkin. "I say, Jack," said he, "here is something that will be of use to us." "What is it?" said Jack, hastening across the room. "An old pistol," replied Peterkin, holding up the weapon, which he had just pulled from under a heap of broken wood and rubbish that lay in a corner. "That, indeed, might have been useful," said Jack, examining it, "if we had any powder; but I suspect the bow and the sling will prove more serviceable." "True, I forgot that," said Peterkin; "but we may as well take it with us, for the flint will serve to strike fire with when the sun does not shine." After having spent more than an hour at this place without discovering anything of further interest, Peterkin took up the old cat, which had lain very contentedly asleep on the stool whereon he had placed it, and we prepared to take our departure. In leaving the hut, Jack stumbled heavily against the doorpost, which was so much decayed as to break across, and the whole fabric of the hut seemed ready to tumble about our ears. This put into our heads that we might as well pull it down, and so form a mound over the skeleton. Jack, therefore, with his axe, cut down the other doorpost, which, when it was done, brought the whole hut in ruins to the ground, and thus formed a grave to the bones of the poor recluse and his dog. Then we left the spot, having brought away the iron pot, the pistol, and the old axe, as they might be of much use to us hereafter. During the rest of this day we pursued our journey, and examined the other end of the large valley, which we found to be so much alike to the parts already described, that I shall not recount the particulars of what we saw in this place. I may, however, remark that we did not quite recover our former cheerful spirits until we arrived at our bower, which we did late in the evening, and found everything just in the same condition as we had left it three days before. Chapter XII Something wrong with the tank--Jack's wisdom and Peterkin's impertinence--Wonderful behaviour of a crab--Good wishes for those who dwell far from the sea--Jack commences to build a little boat. Rest is sweet as well for the body as for the mind. During my long experience, amid the vicissitudes of a chequered life, I have found that periods of profound rest at certain intervals, in addition to the ordinary hours of repose, are necessary to the well-being of man. And the nature as well as the period of this rest varies, according to the different temperaments of individuals, and the peculiar circumstances in which they may chance to be placed. To those who work with their minds, bodily labour is rest. To those who labour with the body, deep sleep is rest. To the downcast, the weary, and the sorrowful, joy and peace are rest. Nay, further, I think that to the gay, the frivolous, the reckless, when sated with pleasures that cannot last, even sorrow proves to be rest of a kind, although, perchance, it were better that I should call it relief than rest. There is, indeed, but one class of men to whom rest is denied--there is no rest to the wicked. At this I do but hint, however, as I treat not of that rest which is spiritual, but more particularly of that which applies to the mind and to the body. Of this rest we stood much in need on our return home, and we found it exceedingly sweet when we indulged in it after completing the journey just related. It had not, indeed, been a very long journey, nevertheless we had pursued it so diligently that our frames were not a little prostrated. Our minds were also very much exhausted in consequence of the many surprises, frequent alarms, and much profound thought to which they had been subjected; so that when we lay down on the night of our return under the shelter of the bower, we fell immediately into very deep repose. I can state this with much certainty, for Jack afterwards admitted the fact, and Peterkin, although he stoutly denied it, I heard snoring loudly at least two minutes after lying down. In this condition we remained all night and the whole of the following day without awaking once, or so much as moving our positions. When we did awake it was near sunset, and we were all in such a state of lassitude that we merely rose to swallow a mouthful of food. As Peterkin remarked, in the midst of a yawn, we took breakfast at tea-time, and then went to bed again, where we lay to the following forenoon. After this we arose very greatly refreshed, but much alarmed lest we had lost count of a day. I say we were much alarmed on this head, for we had carefully kept count of the days since we were cast upon our island, in order that we might remember the Sabbath-day, which day we had hitherto with one accord kept as a day of rest, and refrained from all work whatsoever. However, on considering the subject, we all three entertained the same opinion as to how long we had slept, and so our minds were put at ease. We now hastened to our Water Garden to enjoy a bathe, and to see how did the animals which I had placed in the tank. We found the garden more charming, pellucid, and inviting than ever, and Jack and I plunged into its depth and gambolled among its radiant coral groves, while Peterkin wallowed at the surface, and tried occasionally to kick us as we passed below. Having dressed, I then hastened to the tank; but what was my surprise and grief to find nearly all the animals dead, and the water in a putrid condition! I was greatly distressed at this, and wondered what could be the cause of it. "Why, you precious humbug," said Peterkin, coming up to me, "how could you expect it to be otherwise? When fishes are accustomed to live in the Pacific Ocean, how can you expect them to exist in a hole like that?" "Indeed, Peterkin," I replied, "there seems to be truth in what you say. Nevertheless, now I think of it, there must be some error in your reasoning; for if I put in but a few very small animals, they will bear the same proportion to this pond that the millions of fish bear to the ocean." "I say, Jack," cried Peterkin, waving his hand, "come here, like a good fellow. Ralph is actually talking philosophy. Do come to our assistance, for he's out o' sight beyond me already!" "What's the matter?" inquired Jack, coming up, while he endeavoured to scrub his long hair dry with a towel of cocoa-nut cloth. I repeated my thoughts to Jack, who, I was happy to find, quite agreed with me. "The best plan," he said, "will be to put very few animals at first into your tank, and add more as you find it will bear them. And look here," he added, pointing to the sides of the tank, which, for the space of two inches above the water-level, were encrusted with salt, "you must carry your philosophy a little further, Ralph. That water has evaporated so much that it is too salt for anything to live in. You will require to add _fresh_ water now and then, in order to keep it at the same degree of saltness as the sea." "Very true, Jack; that never struck me before," said I. "And, now I think of it," continued Jack, "it seems to me that the surest way of arranging your tank so as to get it to keep pure and in good condition, will be to _imitate_ the ocean in it. In fact, make it a miniature Pacific. I don't see how you can hope to succeed unless you do that." "Most true," said I, pondering what my companion said. "But I fear that that will be very difficult." "Not at all," cried Jack, rolling his towel up into a ball and throwing it into the face of Peterkin, who had been grinning and winking at him during the last five minutes--"not at all. Look here. There is water of a certain saltness in the sea; well, fill your tank with sea-water, and keep it at that saltness by marking the height at which the water stands on the sides. When it evaporates a little, pour in _fresh_ water from the brook till it comes up to the mark, and then it will be right, for the salt does not evaporate with the water. Then there's lots of seaweed in the sea; well, go and get one or two bits of seaweed and put them into your tank. Of course the weed must be alive, and growing to little stones; or you can chip a bit off the rocks with the weed sticking to it. Then, if you like, you can throw a little sand and gravel into your tank and the thing's complete." "Nay, not quite," said Peterkin, who had been gravely attentive to this off-hand advice--"not quite; you must first make three little men to dive in it before it can be said to be perfect; and that would be rather difficult, I fear, for two of them would require to be philosophers. But hallo! what's this? I say, Ralph, look here. There's one o' your crabs up to something uncommon. It's performing the most remarkable operation for a crab I ever saw--taking off its coat, I do believe, before going to bed!" We hastily stooped over the tank, and certainly were not a little amused at the conduct of one of the crabs which still survived its companions. It was one of the common small crabs, like to those that are found running about everywhere on the coasts of England. While we gazed at it, we observed its back to split away from the lower part of its body, and out of the gap thus formed came a soft lump which moved and writhed unceasingly. This lump continued to increase in size until it appeared like a bunch of crab's legs; and, indeed, such it proved in a very few minutes to be, for the points of the toes were at length extricated from the hole in its back, the legs spread out, the body followed, and the crab walked away quite entire, even to the points of its nipper-claws, leaving a perfectly entire shell behind it, so that, when we looked, it seemed as though there were two complete crabs instead of one. "Well!" exclaimed Peterkin, drawing a long breath, "I've _heard_ of a man jumping out of his skin and sitting down in his skeleton in order to cool himself, but I never expected to _see_ a crab do it!" We were, in truth, much amazed at this spectacle, and the more so when we observed that the new crab was larger than the crab that it came out of. It was also quite soft, but by next morning its skin had hardened into a good shell. We came thus to know that crabs grow in this way, and not by the growing of their shells, as we had always thought before we saw this wonderful operation. Now I considered well the advice which Jack had given me about preparing my tank, and the more I thought of it the more I came to regard it as very sound and worthy of being acted on. So I forthwith put his plan in execution, and found it to answer excellently well, indeed, much beyond my expectation; for I found that, after a little experience had taught me the proper proportion of seaweed and animals to put into a certain amount of water, the tank needed no further attendance; and, moreover, I did not require ever afterwards to renew or change the sea-water, but only to add a very little fresh water from the brook, now and then, as the other evaporated. I therefore concluded that if I had been suddenly conveyed, along with my tank, into some region where there was no salt sea at all, my little sea and my sea-fish would have continued to thrive and to prosper notwithstanding. This made me greatly to desire that those people in the world who live far inland might know of my wonderful tank, and, by having materials like to those of which it was made conveyed to them, thus be enabled to watch the habits of those most mysterious animals that reside in the sea, and examine with their own eyes the wonders of the great deep. For many days after this, while Peterkin and Jack were busily employed in building a little boat out of the curious natural planks of the chestnut tree, I spent much of my time in examining with the burning-glass the marvellous operations that were constantly going on in my tank. Here I saw those anemones which cling, like little red, yellow, and green blobs of jelly, to the rocks, put forth, as it were, a multitude of arms and wait till little fish or other small animalcules unwarily touched them, when they would instantly seize them, fold arm after arm around their victims, and so engulf them in their stomachs. Here I saw the ceaseless working of those little coral insects whose efforts have encrusted the islands of the Pacific with vast rocks and surrounded them with enormous reefs. And I observed that many of these insects, though extremely minute, were very beautiful, coming out of their holes in a circle of fine threads, and having the form of a shuttlecock. Here I saw curious little barnacles opening a hole in their backs and constantly putting out a thin, feathery hand, with which, I doubt not, they dragged their food into their mouths. Here, also, I saw those crabs which have shells only on the front of their bodies, but no shell whatever on their remarkably tender tails, so that, in order to find a protection to them, they thrust them into the empty shells of whelks, or some such fish, and when they grow too big for one, change into another. But, most curious of all, I saw an animal which had the wonderful power, when it became ill, of casting its stomach and its teeth away from it, and getting an entirely new set in the course of a few months! All this I saw, and a great deal more, by means of my tank and my burning-glass; but I refrain from setting down more particulars here, as I have still much to tell of the adventures that befell us while we remained on this island. Chapter XII Notable discovery at the spouting cliffs--The mysterious green monster explained--We are thrown into unutterable terror by the idea that Jack is drowned--The Diamond Cave. "Come, Jack," cried Peterkin, one morning about three weeks after our return from our long excursion, "let's be jolly to-day, and do something vigorous. I'm quite tired of hammering and hammering, hewing and screwing, cutting and butting, at that little boat of ours, that seems as hard to build as Noah's ark. Let us go on an excursion to the mountain-top, or have a hunt after the wild-ducks, or make a dash at the pigs. I'm quite flat--flat as bad ginger-beer--flat as a pancake; in fact, I want something to rouse me, to toss me up, as it were. Eh! what do you say to it?" "Well," answered Jack, throwing down the axe with which he was just about to proceed towards the boat, "if that's what you want, I would recommend you to make an excursion to the water-spouts. The last one we had to do with tossed you up a considerable height; perhaps the next will send you higher--who knows?--if you're at all reasonable or moderate in your expectations!" "Jack, my dear boy," said Peterkin gravely, "you are really becoming too fond of jesting. It's a thing I don't at all approve of, and if you don't give it up, I fear that, for our mutual good, we shall have to part." "Well then, Peterkin," replied Jack with a smile, "what would you have?" "Have?" said Peterkin; "I would _have_ nothing. I didn't say I wanted to _have;_ I said that I wanted to _do."_ "By-the-bye," said I, interrupting their conversation, "I am reminded by this that we have not yet discovered the nature of yon curious appearance that we saw near the water-spouts, on our journey round the island. Perhaps it would be well to go for that purpose." "Humph!" ejaculated Peterkin, "I know the nature of it well enough." "What was it?" said I. "It was of a _mysterious_ nature to be sure!" said he, with a wave of his hand, while he rose from the log on which he had been sitting and buckled on his belt, into which he thrust his enormous club. "Well, then, let us away to the water-spouts," cried Jack, going up to the bower for his bow and arrows; "and bring your spear, Peterkin. It may be useful." We now, having made up our minds to examine into this matter, sallied forth eagerly in the direction of the water-spout rocks, which, as I have before mentioned, were not far from our present place of abode. On arriving there we hastened down to the edge of the rocks and gazed over into the sea, where we observed the pale-green object still distinctly visible, moving its tail slowly to and fro in the water. "Most remarkable!" said Jack. "Exceedingly curious!" said I. "Beats everything!" said Peterkin. "Now, Jack," he added, "you made such a poor figure in your last attempt to stick that object, that I would advise you to let me try it. If it has got a heart at all, I'll engage to send my spear right through the core of it; if it hasn't got a heart, I'll send it through the spot where its heart ought to be." "Fire away then, my boy," replied Jack with a laugh. Peterkin immediately took the spear, poised it for a second or two above his head, then darted it like an arrow into the sea. Down it went straight into the centre of the green object, passed quite through it, and came up immediately afterwards, pure and unsullied, while the mysterious tail moved quietly as before! "Now," said Peterkin gravely, "that brute is a heartless monster; I'll have nothing more to do with it." "I'm pretty sure now," said Jack, "that it is merely a phosphoric light; but I must say, I'm puzzled at its staying always in that exact spot." I also was much puzzled, and inclined to think with Jack that it must be phosphoric light, of which luminous appearance we had seen much while on our voyage to these seas. "But," said I, "there is nothing to hinder us from diving down to it, now that we are sure it is not a shark." "True," returned Jack, stripping off his clothes; "I'll go down, Ralph, as I'm better at diving than you are.--Now then, Peterkin, out o' the road!" Jack stepped forward, joined his hands above his head, bent over the rocks, and plunged into the sea. For a second or two the spray caused by his dive hid him from view; then the water became still, and we saw him swimming far down in the midst of the green object. Suddenly he sank below it, and vanished altogether from our sight! We gazed anxiously down at the spot where he had disappeared for nearly a minute, expecting every moment to see him rise again for breath; but fully a minute appeared, and still he did not reappear. Two minutes passed! and then a flood of alarm rushed in upon my soul, when I considered that, during all my acquaintance with him, Jack had never stayed under water more than a minute at a time; indeed, seldom so long. "O Peterkin!" I said, in a voice that trembled with increasing anxiety, "something has happened. It is more than three minutes now." But Peterkin did not answer, and I observed that he was gazing down into the water with a look of intense fear mingled with anxiety, while his face was overspread with a deadly paleness. Suddenly he sprang to his feet and rushed about in a frantic state, wringing his hands, and exclaiming, "O Jack, Jack! he is gone! It must have been a shark, and he is gone for ever!" For the next five minutes I know not what I did; the intensity of my feelings almost bereft me of my senses. But I was recalled to myself by Peterkin seizing me by the shoulders and staring wildly into my face, while he exclaimed, "Ralph! Ralph! perhaps he has only fainted. Dive for him, Ralph!" It seemed strange that this did not occur to me sooner. In a moment I rushed to the edge off the rocks, and without waiting to throw off my garments, was on the point to spring into the waves, when I observed something black rising up through the green object. In another moment Jack's head rose to the surface, and he gave a wild shout, flinging back the spray from his locks, as was his wont after a dive. Now we were almost as much amazed at seeing him reappear, well and strong, as we had been at first at his non-appearance; for, to the best of our judgment, he had been nearly ten minutes under water, perhaps longer, and it required no exertion of our reason to convince us that this was utterly impossible for mortal man to do and retain his strength and faculties. It was therefore with a feeling akin to superstitious awe that I held down my hand and assisted him to clamber up the steep rocks. But no such feeling affected Peterkin. No sooner did Jack gain the rocks and seat himself on one, panting for breath, than he threw his arms round his neck and burst into a flood of tears. "O Jack, Jack!" said he, "where were you? What kept you so long?" After a few moments Peterkin became composed enough to sit still and listen to Jack's explanation, although he could not restrain himself from attempting to wink every two minutes at me, in order to express his joy at Jack's safety. I say he attempted to wink, but I am bound to add that he did not succeed, for his eyes were so much swollen with weeping, that his frequent attempts only resulted in a series of violent and altogether idiotical contortions of the face, that were very far from expressing what he intended. However, I knew what the poor fellow meant by it, so I smiled to him in return, and endeavoured to make believe that he was winking. "Now, lads," said Jack, when we were composed enough to listen to him, "yon green object is not a shark; it is a stream of light issuing from a cave in the rocks. Just after I made my dive, I observed that this light came from the side of the rock above which we are now sitting; so I struck out for it, and saw an opening into some place or other that appeared to be luminous within. For one instant I paused to think whether I ought to venture. Then I made up my mind, and dashed into it. For you see, Peterkin, although I take some time to tell this, it happened in the space of a few seconds, so that I knew I had wind enough in me to serve to bring me out o' the hole and up to the surface again. Well, I was just on the point of turning--for I began to feel a little uncomfortable in such a place--when it seemed to me as if there was a faint light right above me. I darted upwards, and found my head out of water. This relieved me greatly, for I now felt that I could take in air enough to enable me to return the way I came. Then it all at once occurred to me that I might not be able to find the way out again; but, on glancing downwards, my mind was put quite at rest by seeing the green light below me streaming into the cave, just like the light that we had seen streaming out of it, only what I now saw was much brighter. "At first I could scarcely see anything as I gazed around me, it was so dark; but gradually my eyes became accustomed to it, and I found that I was in a huge cave, part of the walls of which I observed on each side of me. The ceiling just above me was also visible, and I fancied that I could perceive beautiful glittering objects there; but the farther end of the cave was shrouded in darkness. While I was looking around me in great wonder, it came into my head that you two would think I was drowned; so I plunged down through the passage again in a great hurry, rose to the surface, and--here I am!" When Jack concluded his recital of what he had seen in this remarkable cave, I could not rest satisfied till I had dived down to see it: which I did, but found it so dark, as Jack had said, that I could scarcely see anything. When I returned, we had a long conversation about it, during which I observed that Peterkin had a most lugubrious expression on his countenance. "What's the matter, Peterkin?" said I. "The matter?" he replied. "It's all very well for you two to be talking away like mermaids about the wonders of this cave, but you know I must be content to hear about it, while you are enjoying yourselves down there like mad dolphins. It's really too bad." "I'm very sorry for you, Peterkin, indeed I am," said Jack, "but we cannot help you. If you would only learn to dive--" "Learn to fly, you might as well say!" retorted Peterkin in a very sulky tone. "If you would only consent to keep still," said I, "we would take you down with us in ten seconds." "Hum!" returned Peterkin; "suppose a salamander was to propose to you 'only to keep still,' and he would carry you through a blazing fire in a few seconds, what would you say?" We both laughed and shook our heads, for it was evident that nothing was to be made of Peterkin in the water. But we could not rest satisfied till we had seen more of this cave; so, after further consultation, Jack and I determined to try if we could take down a torch with us, and set fire to it in the cavern. This we found to be an undertaking of no small difficulty, but we accomplished it at last by the following means: First, we made a torch of a very inflammable nature out of the bark of a certain tree, which we cut into strips, and, after twisting, cemented together with a kind of resin or gum, which we also obtained from another tree; neither of which trees, however, was known by name to Jack. This, when prepared, we wrapped up in a great number of plies of cocoa-nut cloth, so that we were confident it could not get wet during the short time it should be under water. Then we took a small piece of the tinder, which we had carefully treasured up lest we should require it, as before said, when the sun should fail us; also, we rolled up some dry grass and a few chips, which, with a little bow and drill, like those described before, we made into another bundle, and wrapped it up in cocoa-nut cloth. When all was ready, we laid aside our garments, with the exception of our trousers, which, as we did not know what rough scraping against the rocks we might be subjected to, we kept on. Then we advanced to the edge of the rocks, Jack carrying one bundle, with the torch, I the other, with the things for producing fire. "Now don't weary for us, Peterkin, should we be gone some time," said Jack; "we'll be sure to return in half-an-hour at the very latest, however interesting the cave should be, that we may relieve your mind." "Farewell!" said Peterkin, coming up to us with a look of deep but pretended solemnity, while he shook hands and kissed each of us on the cheek. "Farewell! and while you are gone I shall repose my weary limbs under the shelter of this bush, and meditate on the changefulness of all things earthly, with special reference to the forsaken condition of a poor shipwrecked sailor boy!" So saying, Peterkin waved his hand, turned from us, and cast himself upon the ground with a look of melancholy resignation, which was so well feigned that I would have thought it genuine had he not accompanied it with a gentle wink. We both laughed, and springing from the rocks together, plunged head first into the sea. We gained the interior of the submarine cave without difficulty, and, on emerging from the waves, supported ourselves for some time by treading water, while we held the two bundles above our heads. This we did in order to let our eyes become accustomed to the obscurity. Then, when we could see sufficiently, we swam to a shelving rock, and landed in safety. Having wrung the water from our trousers, and dried ourselves as well as we could under the circumstances, we proceeded to ignite the torch. This we accomplished without difficulty in a few minutes; and no sooner did it flare up than we were struck dumb with the wonderful objects that were revealed to our gaze. The roof of the cabin just above us seemed to be about ten feet high, but grew higher as it receded into the distance, until it was lost in darkness. It seemed to be made of coral, and was supported by massive columns of the same material. Immense icicles (as they appeared to us) hung from it in various places. These, however, were formed not of ice, but of a species of limestone, which seemed to flow in a liquid form towards the point of each, where it became solid. A good many drops fell, however, to the rock below, and these formed little cones, which rose to meet the points above. Some of them had already met, and thus we saw how the pillars were formed, which at first seemed to us as if they had been placed there by some human architect to support the roof. As we advanced farther in, we saw that the floor was composed of the same material as the pillars; and it presented the curious appearance of ripples such as are formed on water when gently ruffled by the wind. There were several openings on either hand in the walls that seemed to lead into other caverns; but, these we did not explore at this time. We also observed that the ceiling was curiously marked in many places, as if it were the fretwork of a noble cathedral; and the walls, as well as the roof, sparkled in the light of our torch, and threw back gleams and flashes as if they were covered with precious stones. Although we proceeded far into this cavern, we did not come to the end of it; and we were obliged to return more speedily than we would otherwise have done, as our torch was nearly expended. We did not observe any openings in the roof, or any indications of places whereby light might enter; but near the entrance to the cavern stood an immense mass of pure white coral rock, which caught and threw back the little light that found an entrance through the cave's mouth, and thus produced, we conjectured, the pale-green object which had first attracted our attention. We concluded, also, that the reflecting power of this rock was that which gave forth the dim light that faintly illumined the first part of the cave. Before diving through the passage again we extinguished the small piece of our torch that remained, and left it in a dry spot; conceiving that we might possibly stand in need of it, if at any future time we should chance to wet our torch while diving into the cavern. As we stood for a few minutes after it was out, waiting till our eyes became accustomed to the gloom, we could not help remarking the deep, intense stillness and the unutterable gloom of all around us; and, as I thought of the stupendous dome above, and the countless gems that had sparkled in the torchlight a few minutes before, it came into my mind to consider how strange it is that God should make such wonderful and exquisitely beautiful works never to be seen at all, except, indeed, by chance visitors such as ourselves. I afterwards found that there were many such caverns among the islands of the South Seas, some of them larger and more beautiful than the one I have just described. "Now, Ralph, are you ready?" said Jack, in a low voice, that seemed to echo up into the dome above. "Quite ready." "Come along, then," said he; and plunging off the ledge of the rock into the water, we dived through the narrow entrance. In a few seconds we were panting on the rocks above, and receiving the congratulations of our friend Peterkin. Chapter XIV Strange peculiarity of the tides--Also of the twilight--Peterkin's remarkable conduct in embracing a little pig and killing a big sow--Sage remarks on jesting--Also on love. It was quite a relief to us to breathe the pure air and to enjoy the glad sunshine after our long ramble in the Diamond Cave, as we named it; for although we did not stay more than half-an-hour away, it seemed to us much longer. While we were dressing, and during our walk home, we did our best to satisfy the curiosity of poor Peterkin, who seemed to regret, with lively sincerity, his inability to dive. There was no help for it, however, so we condoled with him as we best could. Had there been any great rise or fall in the tide of these seas, we might perhaps have found it possible to take him down with us at low water; but as the tide never rose as fell more than eighteen inches or two feet, this was impossible. This peculiarity of the tide--its slight rise and fall--had not attracted our observation till some time after our residence on the island. Neither had we observed another curious circumstance until we had been some time there. This was the fact that the tide rose and fell with constant regularity, instead of being affected by the changes of the moon as in our own country, and as it is in most other parts of the world--at least in all those parts with which I am acquainted. Every day and every night, at twelve o'clock precisely, the tide is at the full; and at six o'clock every morning and evening it is ebb. I can speak with much confidence on this singular circumstance, as we took particular note of it, and never found it to alter. Of course, I must admit, we had to guess the hour of twelve midnight, and I think we could do this pretty correctly; but in regard to twelve noon we are quite positive, because we easily found the highest point that the sun reached in the sky by placing ourselves at a certain spot whence we observed the sharp summit of a cliff resting against the sky, just where the sun passed. Jack and I were surprised that we had not noticed this the first few days of our residence here, and could only account for it by our being so much taken up with the more obvious wonders of our novel situation. I have since learned, however, that this want of observation is a sad and very common infirmity of human nature, there being hundreds of persons before whose eyes the most wonderful things are passing every day, who nevertheless are totally ignorant of them. I therefore have to record my sympathy with such persons, and to recommend to them a course of conduct which I have now for a long time myself adopted--namely, the habit of forcing my attention upon _all_ things that go on around me, and of taking some degree of interest in them, whether I feel it naturally or not. I suggest this the more earnestly, though humbly, because I have very frequently come to know that my indifference to a thing has generally been caused by my ignorance in regard to it. We had much serious conversation on this subject of the tides; and Jack told us, in his own quiet, philosophical way, that these tides did great good to the world in many ways, particularly in the way of cleansing the shores of the land, and carrying off the filth that was constantly poured into the sea therefrom; which, Peterkin suggested, was remarkably _tidy_ of it to do. Poor Peterkin could never let slip an opportunity to joke, however inopportune it might be: which at first we found rather a disagreeable propensity, as it often interrupted the flow of very agreeable conversation--and, indeed, I cannot too strongly record my disapprobation of this tendency in general--but we became so used to it at last that we found it no interruption whatever; indeed, strange to say, we came to feel that it was a necessary part of our enjoyment (such is the force of habit), and found the sudden outbursts of mirth, resulting from his humorous disposition, quite natural and refreshing to us in the midst of our more serious conversations. But I must not misrepresent Peterkin. We often found, to our surprise, that he knew many things which we did not; and I also observed that those things which he learned from experience were never forgotten. From all these things I came at length to understand that things very opposite and dissimilar in themselves, when united, do make an agreeable whole; as, for example, we three on this our island, although most unlike in many things, when united, made a trio so harmonious that I question if there ever met before such an agreeable triumvirate. There was, indeed, no note of discord whatever in the symphony we played together on that sweet Coral Island; and I am now persuaded that this was owing to our having been all tuned to the same key, namely, that of _love!_ Yes, we loved one another with much fervency while we lived on that island; and, for the matter of that, we love each other still. And while I am on this subject, or rather the subject that just preceded it--namely, the tides--I may here remark on another curious natural phenomenon. We found that there was little or no twilight in this island. We had a distinct remembrance of the charming long twilight at home, which some people think the most delightful part of the day, though for my part I have always preferred sunrise; and when we first landed, we used to sit down on some rocky point or eminence, at the close of our day's work, to enjoy the evening breeze; but no sooner had the sun sunk below the horizon than all became suddenly dark. This rendered it necessary that we should watch the sun when we happened to be out hunting; for to be suddenly left in the dark while in the woods was very perplexing, as, although the stars shone with great beauty and brilliancy, they could not pierce through the thick umbrageous boughs that interlaced above our heads. But to return: after having told all we could to Peterkin about the Diamond Cave under Spouting Cliff, as we named the locality, we were wending our way rapidly homewards, when a grunt and a squeal were borne down by the land breeze to our ears. "That's the ticket!" was Peterkin's remarkable exclamation, as he started convulsively and levelled his spear. "Hist!" cried Jack; "these are your friends, Peterkin. They must have come over expressly to pay you a friendly visit, for it is the first time we have seen them on this side the island." "Come along!" cried Peterkin, hurrying towards the wood, while Jack and I followed, smiling at his impatience. Another grunt and half-a-dozen squeals, much louder than before, came down the valley. At this time we were just opposite the small vale which lay between the Valley of the Wreck and Spouting Cliff. "I say, Peterkin," cried Jack in a hoarse whisper. "Well, what is't?" "Stay a bit, man. These grunters are just up there on the hillside. If you go and stand with Ralph in the lee of yon cliff, I'll cut round behind and drive them through the gorge, so that you'll have a better chance of picking out a good one. Now, mind you pitch into a fat young pig, Peterkin," added Jack, as he sprang into the bushes. "Won't I, just!" said Peterkin, licking his lips, as we took our station beside the cliff. "I feel quite a tender affection for young pigs in my heart. Perhaps it would be more correct to say in my s--" "There they come!" cried I, as a terrific yell from Jack sent the whole herd screaming down the hill. Now Peterkin, being unable to hold back, crept a short way up a very steep, grassy mound, in order to get a better view of the hogs before they came up; and just as he raised his head above its summit, two little pigs, which had outrun their companions, rushed over the top with the utmost precipitation. One of these brushed close past Peterkin's ear; the other, unable to arrest its headlong flight, went, as Peterkin himself afterwards expressed it, "bash" into his arms with a sudden squeal, which was caused more by the force of the blow than the will of the animal, and both of them rolled violently down to the foot of the mound. No sooner was this reached than the little pig recovered its feet, tossed up its tail, and fled shrieking from the spot. But I slung a large stone after it, which, being fortunately well aimed, hit it behind the ear, and felled it to the earth. "Capital, Ralph! that's your sort!" cried Peterkin, who, to my surprise, and great relief, had risen to his feet apparently unhurt, though much dishevelled. He rushed franticly towards the gorge, which the yells of the hogs told us they were now approaching. I had made up my mind that I would abstain from killing another, as, if Peterkin should be successful, two were more than sufficient for our wants at the present time. Suddenly they all burst forth--two or three little round ones in advance, and an enormous old sow with a drove of hogs at her heels. "Now, Peterkin," said I, "there's a nice little fat one; just spear it." But Peterkin did not move; he allowed it to pass unharmed. I looked at him in surprise, and saw that his lips were compressed and his eyebrows knitted, as if he were about to fight with some awful enemy. "What is it?" I inquired, with some trepidation. Suddenly he levelled his spear, darted forward, and, with a yell that nearly froze the blood in my veins, stabbed the old sow to the heart. Nay, so vigorously was it done that the spear went in at one side and came out at the other! "O Peterkin," said I, going up to him, "what have you done"? _Done?_ "I've killed their great-great-grandmother, that's all," said he, looking with a somewhat awe-struck expression at the transfixed animal. "Hallo! what's this?" said Jack, as he came up. "Why, Peterkin, you must be fond of a tough chop. If you mean to eat this old hog, she'll try your jaws, I warrant. What possessed you to stick _her,_ Peterkin?" "Why, the fact is, I want a pair of shoes." "What have your shoes to do with the old hog?" said I, smiling. "My present shoes have certainly nothing to do with her," replied Peterkin; "nevertheless, she will have a good deal to do with my future shoes. The fact is, when I saw you floor that pig so neatly, Ralph, it struck me that there was little use in killing another. Then I remembered all at once that I had long wanted some leather or tough substance to make shoes of, and this old grandmother seemed so tough that I just made up my mind to stick her, and you see I've done it!" "That you certainly have, Peterkin," said Jack, as he was examining the transfixed animal. We now considered how we were to carry our game home, for, although the distance was short, the hog was very heavy. At length we hit on the plan of tying its four feet together, and passing the spear handle between them. Jack took one end on his shoulder, I took the other on mine, and Peterkin carried the small pig. Thus we returned in triumph to our bower, laden, as Peterkin remarked, with the glorious spoils of a noble hunt. As he afterwards spoke in similarly glowing terms in reference to the supper that followed, there is every reason to believe that we retired that night to our leafy beds in a high state of satisfaction. Chapter XV Boat-building extraordinary--Peterkin tries his hand at cookery, and fails most signally--The boat finished--Curious conversation with the cat and other matters. For many days after this Jack applied himself with unremitting assiduity to the construction of our boat, which at length began to look something like one. But those only who have had the thing to do can entertain a right idea of the difficulty involved in such an undertaking, with no other implements than an axe, a bit of hoop-iron, a sail-needle, and a broken penknife. But Jack did it. He was of that disposition which _will_ not be conquered. When he believed himself to be acting rightly, he overcame all obstacles. I have seen Jack, when doubtful whether what he was about to do were right or wrong, as timid and vacillating as a little girl; and I honour him for it! As this boat was a curiosity in its way, a few words here relative to the manner of its construction may not be amiss. I have already mentioned the chestnut tree with its wonderful buttresses or planks. This tree, then, furnished us with the chief part of our material. First of all, Jack sought out a limb of a tree of such a form and size as, while it should form the keel, a bend at either end should form the stem and stern-posts. Such a piece, however, was not easy to obtain; but at last he procured it by rooting up a small tree which had a branch growing at the proper angle about ten feet up its stem, with two strong roots growing in such a form as enabled him to make a flat-sterned boat. This placed, he procured three branching roots of suitable size, which he fitted to the keel at equal distances, thus forming three strong ribs. Now the squaring and shaping of these, and the cutting of the grooves in the keel, was an easy enough matter, as it was all work for the axe, in the use of which Jack was become wonderfully expert; but it was quite a different affair when he came to nailing the ribs to the keel, for we had no instrument capable of boring a large hole, and no nails to fasten them with. We were, indeed, much perplexed here; but Jack at length devised an instrument that served very well. He took the remainder of our hoop-iron and beat it into the form of a pipe or cylinder, about as thick as a man's finger. This he did by means of our axe and the old rusty axe we had found at the house of the poor man at the other side of the island. This, when made red hot, bored slowly through the timbers; and, the better to retain the heat, Jack shut up one end of it and filled it with sand. True, the work was very slowly done, but it mattered not, we had little else to do. Two holes were bored in each timber, about an inch and a half apart, and also down into the keel, but not quite through. Into these were placed stout pegs made of a tree called iron-wood; and, when they were hammered well home, the timbers were as firmly fixed as if they had been nailed with iron. The gunwales, which were very stout, were fixed in a similar manner. But, besides the wooden nails, they were firmly lashed to the stem and stern-posts and ribs by means of a species of cordage which we had contrived to make out of the fibrous husk of the cocoa-nut. This husk was very tough, and when a number of the threads were joined together they formed excellent cordage. At first we tied the different lengths together; but this was such a clumsy and awkward complication of knots that we contrived, by careful interlacing of the ends together before twisting, to make good cordage of any size or length we chose. Of course it cost us much time and infinite labour, but Jack kept up our spirits when we grew weary, and so all that we required was at last constructed. Planks were now cut off the chestnut trees of about an inch thick. These were dressed with the axe--but clumsily, for an axe is ill adapted for such work. Five of these planks on each side were sufficient; and we formed the boat in a very rounded, barrel-like shape, in order to have as little twisting of the planks as possible, for although we could easily bend them, we could not easily twist them. Having no nails to rivet the planks with, we threw aside the ordinary fashion of boat-building and adopted one of our own. The planks were therefore placed on each other's edges, and sewed together with the tough cordage already mentioned. They were also thus sewed to the stem, the stern, and the keel. Each stitch or tie was six inches apart, and was formed thus: Three holes were bored in the upper plank and three in the lower--the holes being above each other, that is, in a vertical line. Through these holes the cord was passed, and, when tied, formed a powerful stitch of three-ply. Besides this, we placed between the edges of the planks layers of cocoa-nut fibre, which, as it swelled when wetted, would, we hoped, make our little vessel water-tight. But in order further to secure this end, we collected a large quantity of pitch from the bread-fruit tree, with which, when boiled in our old iron pot, we paid the whole of the inside of the boat, and, while it was yet hot, placed large pieces of cocoa-nut cloth on it, and then gave it another coat above that. Thus the interior was covered with a tough, water-tight material; while the exterior, being uncovered, and so exposed to the swelling action of the water, was, we hoped, likely to keep the boat quite dry. I may add that our hopes were not disappointed. While Jack was thus engaged, Peterkin and I sometimes assisted him; but as our assistance was not much required, we more frequently went a-hunting on the extensive mud-flats at the entrance of the long valley which lay nearest to our bower. Here we found large flocks of ducks of various kinds, some of them bearing so much resemblance to the wild ducks of our own country that I think they must have been the same. On these occasions we took the bow and the sling, with both of which we were often successful, though I must confess that I was the least so. Our suppers were thus pleasantly varied, and sometimes we had such a profusion spread out before us that we frequently knew not with which of the dainties to begin. I must also add that the poor old cat which we had brought home had always a liberal share of our good things, and so well was it looked after, especially by Peterkin, that it recovered much of its former strength, and seemed to improve in sight as well as hearing. The large flat stone, or rock of coral, which stood just in front of the entrance to our bower, was our table. On this rock we had spread out the few articles we possessed the day we were shipwrecked; and on the same rock, during many a day afterwards, we spread out the bountiful supply with which we had been blessed on our Coral Island. Sometimes we sat down at this table to a feast consisting of hot rolls--as Peterkin called the newly baked bread-fruit--a roast pig, roast duck, boiled and roasted yams, cocoa-nuts, taro, and sweet potatoes; which we followed up with a dessert of plums, apples, and plantains--the last being a large-sized and delightful fruit, which grew on a large shrub or tree not more than twelve feet high, with light-green leaves of enormous length and breadth. These luxurious feasts were usually washed down with cocoa-nut lemonade. Occasionally Peterkin tried to devise some new dish--"a conglomerate," as he used to say; but these generally turned out such atrocious compounds that he was ultimately induced to give up his attempts in extreme disgust--not forgetting, however, to point out to Jack that his failure was a direct contradiction to the proverb which he (Jack) was constantly thrusting down his throat--namely, that "where there's a will there's a way." For he had a great will to become a cook, but could by no means find a way to accomplish that end. One day, while Peterkin and I were seated beside our table, on which dinner was spread, Jack came up from the beach, and, flinging down his axe, exclaimed-- "There, lads, the boat's finished at last! So we've nothing to do now but shape two pair of oars, and then we may put to sea as soon as we like." This piece of news threw us into a state of great joy; for, although we were aware that the boat had been gradually getting near its completion, it had taken so long that we did not expect it to be quite ready for at least two or three weeks. But Jack had wrought hard and said nothing, in order to surprise us. "My dear fellow," cried Peterkin, "you're a perfect trump. But why did you not tell us it was so nearly ready? Won't we have a jolly sail to-morrow, eh?" "Don't talk so much, Peterkin," said Jack; "and, pray, hand me a bit of that pig." "Certainly, my dear," cried Peterkin, seizing the axe. "What part will you have? A leg, or a wing, or a piece of the breast--which?" "A hind leg, if you please," answered Jack; "and, pray, be so good as to include the tail." "With all my heart," said Peterkin, exchanging the axe for his hoop-iron knife, with which he cut off the desired portion. "I'm only too glad, my dear boy, to see that your appetite is so wholesale, and there's no chance whatever of its dwindling down into re-tail again, at least, in so far as this pig is concerned.--Ralph, lad, why don't you laugh, eh?" he added, turning suddenly to me with a severe look of inquiry. "Laugh!" said I; "what at, Peterkin? Why should I laugh?" Both Jack and Peterkin answered this inquiry by themselves laughing so immoderately that I was induced to believe I had missed noticing some good joke, so I begged that it might be explained to me; but as this only produced repeated roars of laughter, I smiled and helped myself to another slice of plantain. "Well, but," continued Peterkin, "I was talking of a sail to-morrow. Can't we have one, Jack?" "No," replied Jack, "we can't have a sail, but I hope we shall have a row, as I intend to work hard at the oars this afternoon, and, if we can't get them finished by sunset, we'll light our candle-nuts, and turn them out of hands before we turn into bed." "Very good," said Peterkin, tossing a lump of pork to the cat, who received it with a mew of satisfaction. "I'll help you, if I can." "Afterwards," continued Jack, "we will make a sail out of the cocoa-nut cloth, and rig up a mast, and then we shall be able to sail to some of the other islands, and visit our old friends the penguins." The prospect of being so soon in a position to extend our observations to the other islands and enjoy a sail over the beautiful sea afforded us much delight, and after dinner we set about making the oars in good earnest. Jack went into the woods and blocked them roughly out with the axe, and I smoothed them down with the knife, while Peterkin remained in the bower spinning, or rather twisting, some strong, thick cordage with which to fasten them to the boat. We worked hard and rapidly, so that when the sun went down, Jack and I returned to the bower with four stout oars, which required little to be done to them save a slight degree of polishing with the knife. As we drew near, we were suddenly arrested by the sound of a voice. We were not a little surprised at this--indeed, I may almost say alarmed; for, although Peterkin was undoubtedly fond of talking, we had never up to this time found him talking to himself. We listened intently, and still heard the sound of a voice, as if in conversation. Jack motioned me to be silent, and, advancing to the bower on tip-toe, we peeped in. The sight that met our gaze was certainly not a little amusing. On the top of a log which we sometimes used as a table sat the black cat, with a very demure expression on its countenance, and in front of it, sitting on the ground with his legs extended on either side of the log, was Peterkin. At the moment we saw him, he was gazing intently into the cat's face, with his nose about four inches from it, his hands being thrust into his breeches pockets. "Cat," said Peterkin, turning his head a little on one side, "I love you!" There was a pause, as if Peterkin awaited a reply to this affectionate declaration. But the cat said nothing. "Do you hear me?" cried Peterkin sharply. "I love you--I do! Don't you love me?" To this touching appeal the cat said "Mew" faintly. "Ah! that's right. You're a jolly old rascal. Why did you not speak at once, eh?" and Peterkin put forward his mouth and kissed the cat on the nose! "Yes," continued Peterkin, after a pause, "I love you. D'you think I'd say so if I didn't, you black villain? I love you because I've got to take care of you, and to look after you, and to think about you, and to see that you don't die--" "Mew, me-a-w!" said the cat. "Very good," continued Peterkin; "quite true, I have no doubt. But you've no right to interrupt me, sir. Hold your tongue till I have done speaking. Moreover, cat, I love you because you came to me the first time you ever saw me, and didn't seem to be afraid, and appeared to be fond of me, though you didn't know that I wasn't going to kill you. Now that was brave, that was bold, and very jolly, old boy, and I love you for it--I do!" Again there was a pause of a few minutes, during which the cat looked placid, and Peterkin dropped his eyes upon its toes, as if in contemplation. Suddenly he looked up. "Well, cat, what are you thinking about now? Won't speak, eh? Now tell me, don't you think it's a monstrous shame that those two scoundrels, Jack and Ralph, should keep us waiting for our supper so long?" Here the cat arose, put up its back and stretched itself, yawned slightly, and licked the point of Peterkin's nose! "Just so, old boy; you're a clever fellow. I really do believe the brute understands me!" said Peterkin, while a broad grin overspread his face as he drew back and surveyed the cat. At this point Jack burst into a loud fit of laughter. The cat uttered an angry fuff and fled, while Peterkin sprang up and exclaimed-- "Bad luck to you, Jack! you've nearly made the heart jump out of my body, you have." "Perhaps I have," replied Jack, laughing, as we entered the bower, "but as I don't intend to keep you or the cat any longer from your supper, I hope that you'll both forgive me." Peterkin endeavoured to turn this affair off with a laugh, but I observed that he blushed very deeply at the time we discovered ourselves, and he did not seem to relish any allusion to the subject afterwards; so we refrained from remarking on it ever after, though it tickled us not a little at the time. After supper we retired to rest and to dream of wonderful adventures in our little boat and distant voyages upon the sea. Chapter XVI The boat launched--We visit the coral reef--The great breaker that never goes down--Coral insects--The way in which coral islands are made--The boat's sail--We tax our ingenuity to form fish-hooks--Some of the fish we saw--And a monstrous whale--Wonderful shower of little fish--Water-spouts. It was a bright, clear, beautiful morning when we first launched our little boat, and rowed out upon the placid waters of the lagoon. Not a breath of wind ruffled the surface of the deep. Not a cloud spotted the deep blue sky. Not a sound that was discordant broke the stillness of the morning, although there were many sounds, sweet, tiny, and melodious, that mingled in the universal harmony of nature. The sun was just rising from the Pacific's ample bosom and tipping the mountaintops with a red glow. The sea was shining like a sheet of glass, yet heaving with the long deep swell that, all the world round, indicates the life of ocean; and the bright seaweeds and the brilliant corals shone in the depths of that pellucid water, as we rowed over it, like rare and precious gems. Oh! it was a sight fitted to stir the soul of man to its profoundest depths, and, if he owned a heart at all, to lift that heart in adoration and gratitude to the great Creator of this magnificent and glorious universe. At first, in the strength of our delight, we rowed hither and thither without aim or object. But after the effervescence of our spirits was abated, we began to look about us and to consider what we should do. "I vote that we row to the reef," cried Peterkin. "And I vote that we visit the islands within the lagoon," said I. "And I vote we do both," cried Jack; "so pull away, boys." As I have already said, we had made four oars, but our boat was so small that only two were necessary. The extra pair were reserved in case any accident should happen to the others. It was therefore only needful that two of us should row, while the third steered, by means of an oar, and relieved the rowers occasionally. First we landed on one of the small islands and ran all over it, but saw nothing worthy of particular notice. Then we landed on a larger island, on which were growing a few cocoa-nut trees. Not having eaten anything that morning, we gathered a few of the nuts and breakfasted. After this we pulled straight out to sea and landed on the coral reef. This was indeed a novel and interesting sight to us. We had now been so long on shore that we had almost forgotten the appearance of breakers, for there were none within the lagoon; but now, as we stood beside the foam-crested billow of the open sea, all the enthusiasm of the sailor was awakened in our breasts, and as we gazed on the widespread ruin of that single magnificent breaker that burst in thunder at our feet, we forgot the Coral Island behind us; we forgot our bower and the calm repose of the scented woods; we forgot all that had passed during the last few months, and remembered nothing but the storms, the calms, the fresh breezes and the surging billows of the open sea. This huge, ceaseless breaker, to which I have so often alluded, was a much larger and more sublime object than we had at all imagined it to be. It rose many yards above the level of the sea, and could be seen approaching at some distance from the reef. Slowly and majestically it came on, acquiring greater volume and velocity as it advanced, until it assumed the form of a clear watery arch, which sparkled in the bright sun. On it came with resistless and solemn majesty--the upper edge lipped gently over, and it fell with a roar that seemed as though the heart of Ocean were broken in the crash of tumultuous water, while the foam-clad coral reef appeared to tremble beneath the mighty shock! We gazed long and wonderingly at this great sight, and it was with difficulty we could tear ourselves away from it. As I have once before mentioned, this wave broke in many places over the reef and scattered some of its spray into the lagoon, but in most places the reef was sufficiently broad and elevated to receive and check its entire force. In many places the coral rocks were covered with vegetation--the beginning, as it appeared to us, of future islands. Thus, on this reef, we came to perceive how most of the small islands of those seas are formed. On one part we saw the spray of the breaker washing over the rocks, and millions of little, active, busy creatures continuing the work of building up this living rampart. At another place, which was just a little too high for the waves to wash over it, the coral insects were all dead; for we found that they never did their work above water. They had faithfully completed the mighty work which their Creator had given them to do, and they were now all dead. Again, in other spots the ceaseless lashing of the sea had broken the dead coral in pieces, and cast it up in the form of sand. Here sea-birds had alighted, little pieces of seaweed and stray bits of wood had been washed up, seeds of plants had been carried by the wind, and a few lovely blades of bright green had already sprung up, which, when they died, would increase the size and fertility of these emeralds of Ocean. At other places these islets had grown apace, and were shaded by one or two cocoa-nut trees, which grew, literally, in the sand, and were constantly washed by the ocean spray; yet, as I have before remarked, their fruit was most refreshing and sweet to our taste. Again at this time Jack and I pondered the formation of the large coral islands. We could now understand how the low ones were formed; but the larger islands cost us much consideration, yet we could arrive at no certain conclusion on the subject. Having satisfied our curiosity and enjoyed ourselves during the whole day in our little boat, we returned somewhat wearied, and withal rather hungry, to our bower. "Now," said Jack, "as our boat answers so well, we will get a mast and sail made immediately." "So we will," cried Peterkin, as we all assisted to drag the boat above high-water mark. "We'll light our candle and set about it this very night. Hurrah, my boys, pull away!" As we dragged our boat, we observed that she grated heavily on her keel, and as the sands were in this place mingled with broken coral rocks, we saw portions of the wood being scraped off. "Hallo!" cried Jack on seeing this, "that won't do. Our keel will be worn off in no time at this rate." "So it will," said I, pondering deeply as to how this might be prevented. But I am not of a mechanical turn naturally, so I could conceive no remedy save that of putting a plate of iron on the keel; but as we had no iron, I knew not what was to be done. "It seems to me, Jack," I added, "that it is impossible to prevent the keel being worn off thus." "Impossible!" cried Peterkin. "My dear Ralph, you are mistaken; there is nothing so easy." "How?" I inquired, in some surprise. "Why, by not using the boat at all!" replied Peterkin. "Hold your impudent tongue, Peterkin," said Jack, as he shouldered the oars; "come along with me, and I'll give you work to do. In the first place, you will go and collect cocoa-nut fibre, and set to work to make sewing twine with it--" "Please, captain," interrupted Peterkin, "I've got lots of it made already--more than enough, as a little friend of mine used to be in the habit of saying every day after dinner." "Very well," continued Jack; "then you'll help Ralph to collect cocoa-nut cloth, and cut it into shape, after which we'll make a sail of it. I'll see to getting the mast and the gearing; so let's to work." And to work we went right busily, so that in three days from that time we had set up a mast and sail, with the necessary rigging, in our little boat. The sail was not, indeed, very handsome to look at, as it was formed of a number of oblong patches of cloth; but we had sewed it well by means of our sail-needle, so that it was strong, which was the chief point. Jack had also overcome the difficulty about the keel, by pinning to it a _false_ keel. This was a piece of tough wood, of the same length and width as the real keel, and about five inches deep. He made it of this depth because the boat would be thereby rendered not only much more safe, but more able to beat against the wind; which, in a sea where the trade-winds blow so long and so steadily in one direction, was a matter of great importance. This piece of wood was pegged very firmly to the keel; and we now launched our boat with the satisfaction of knowing that when the false keel should be scraped off, we could easily put on another; whereas, should the real keel have been scraped away, we could not have renewed it without taking our boat to pieces, which Peterkin said made his "marrow quake to think upon." The mast and sail answered excellently, and we now sailed about in the lagoon with great delight, and examined with much interest the appearance of our island from a distance. Also, we gazed into the depths of the water, and watched for hours the gambols of the curious and bright-coloured fish among the corals and seaweed. Peterkin also made a fishing-line, and Jack constructed a number of hooks, some of which were very good, others remarkably bad. Some of these hooks were made of iron-wood, which did pretty well, the wood being extremely hard, and Jack made them very thick and large. Fish there are not particular. Some of the crooked bones in fish-heads also answered for this purpose pretty well. But that which formed our best and most serviceable hook was the brass finger-ring belonging to Jack. It gave him not a little trouble to manufacture it. First he cut it with the axe then twisted it into the form of a hook. The barb took him several hours to cut. He did it by means of constant sawing with the broken penknife. As for the point, an hour's rubbing on a piece of sandstone made an excellent one. It would be a matter of much time and labour to describe the appearance of the multitudes of fish that were day after day drawn into our boat by means of the brass hook. Peterkin always caught them--for we observed that he derived much pleasure from fishing--while Jack and I found ample amusement in looking on, also in gazing down at the coral groves, and in baiting the hook. Among the fish that we saw, but did not catch, were porpoises and sword-fish, whales and sharks. The porpoises came frequently into our lagoon in shoals, and amused us not a little by their bold leaps into the air and their playful gambols in the sea. The sword-fish were wonderful creatures; some of them apparently ten feet in length, with an ivory spear six or eight feet long projecting from their noses. We often saw them darting after other fish, and no doubt they sometimes killed them with their ivory swords. Jack remembered having heard once of a sword-fish attacking a ship--which seemed strange indeed; but as they are often in the habit of attacking whales, perhaps it mistook the ship for one. This sword-fish ran against the vessel with such force that it drove its sword quite through the thick planks, and when the ship arrived in harbour, long afterwards, the sword was found still sticking in it! Sharks did not often appear, but we took care never again to bathe in deep water without leaving one of our number in the boat to give us warning, if he should see a shark approaching. As for the whales, they never came into our lagoon, but we frequently saw them spouting in the deep water beyond the reef. I shall never forget my surprise the first day I saw one of these huge monsters close to me. We had been rambling about on the reef during the morning, and were about to re-embark in our little boat to return home, when a loud blowing sound caused us to wheel rapidly round. We were just in time to see a shower of spray falling, and the flukes or tail of some monstrous fish disappear in the sea a few hundred yards off. We waited some time to see if he would rise again. As we stood, the sea seemed to open up at our very feet; an immense spout of water was sent with a snort high into the air, and the huge, blunt head of a sperm whale rose before us. It was so large that it could easily have taken our little boat, along with ourselves, into its mouth! It plunged slowly back into the sea, like a large ship foundering, and struck the water with its tail so forcibly as to cause a sound like a cannon shot. We also saw a great number of flying-fish, although we caught none; and we noticed that they never flew out of the water except when followed by their bitter foe the dolphin, from whom they thus endeavoured to escape. But of all the fish that we saw, none surprised us so much as those that we used to find in shallow pools after a shower of rain; and this not on account of their appearance, for they were ordinary-looking and very small, but on account of their having descended in a shower of rain! We could account for them in no other way, because the pools in which we found these fish were quite dry before the shower, and at some distance above high-water mark. Jack, however, suggested a cause which seemed to me very probable. We used often to see water-spouts in the sea. A water-spout is a whirling body of water, which rises from the sea like a sharp-pointed pillar. After rising a good way, it is met by a long tongue, which comes down from the clouds; and when the two have joined, they look something like an hour-glass. The water-spout is then carried by the wind, sometimes gently, sometimes with violence, over the sea, sometimes up into the clouds, and then, bursting asunder, it descends in a deluge. This often happens over the land as well as over the sea; and it sometimes does much damage, but frequently it passes gently away. Now, Jack thought that the little fish might perhaps have been carried up in a water-spout, and so sent down again in a shower of rain. But we could not be certain as to this point, yet we thought it likely. During these delightful fishing and boating excursions we caught a good many eels, which we found to be very good to eat. We also found turtles among the coral rocks, and made excellent soup in our iron kettle. Moreover, we discovered many shrimps and prawns, so that we had no lack of variety in our food; and, indeed, we never passed a week without making some new and interesting discovery of some sort or other, either on the land or in the sea. Chapter XVII A monster wave and its consequences--The boat lost and found--Peterkin's terrible accident--Supplies of food for a voyage in the boat--We visit Penguin Island, and are amazed beyond measure--Account of the penguins. One day, not long after our little boat was finished, we were sitting on the rocks at Spouting Cliff, and talking of an excursion which we intended to make to Penguin Island the next day. "You see," said Peterkin, "it might be all very well for a stupid fellow like me to remain here and leave the penguins alone, but it would be quite inconsistent with your characters as philosophers to remain any longer in ignorance of the habits and customs of these birds; so the sooner we go the better." "Very true," said I; "there is nothing I desire so much as to have a closer inspection of them." "And I think," said Jack, "that you had better remain at home, Peterkin, to take care of the cat; for I'm sure the hogs will be at it in your absence, out of revenge for your killing their great-grandmother so recklessly." "Stay at home!" cried Peterkin. "My dear fellow, you would certainly lose your way, or get upset, if I were not there to take care of you." "Ah, true," said Jack gravely; "that did not occur to me; no doubt you must go. Our boat does require a good deal of ballast; and all that you say, Peterkin, carries so much weight with it, that we won't need stones if you go." Now, while my companions were talking, a notable event occurred, which, as it is not generally known, I shall be particular in recording here. While we were talking, as I have said, we noticed a dark line, like a low cloud or fog-bank, on the seaward horizon. The day was a fine one, though cloudy, and a gentle breeze was blowing, but the sea was not rougher or the breaker on the reef higher than usual. At first we thought that this looked like a thunder-cloud, and as we had had a good deal of broken weather of late, accompanied by occasional peals of thunder, we supposed that a storm must be approaching. Gradually, however, this line seemed to draw nearer without spreading up over the sky, as would certainly have been the case if it had been a storm-cloud. Still nearer it came, and soon we saw that it was moving swiftly towards the island; but there was no sound till it reached the islands out at sea. As it passed these islands, we observed, with no little anxiety, that a cloud of white foam encircled them, and burst in spray into the air; it was accompanied by a loud roar. This led us to conjecture that the approaching object was an enormous wave of the sea; but we had no idea how large it was till it came near to ourselves. When it approached the outer reef, however, we were awe-struck with its unusual magnitude; and we sprang to our feet, and clambered hastily up to the highest point of the precipice, under an indefinable feeling of fear. I have said before that the reef opposite Spouting Cliff was very near to the shore, while just in front of the bower, it was at a considerable distance out to sea. Owing to this formation, the wave reached the reef at the latter point before it struck at the foot of Spouting Cliff. The instant it touched the reef we became aware, for the first time, of its awful magnitude. It burst completely over the reef at all points, with a roar that seemed louder to me than thunder; and this roar continued for some seconds, while the wave rolled gradually along towards the cliff on which we stood. As its crest reared before us, we felt that we were in great danger, and turned to flee; but we were too late. With a crash that seemed to shake the solid rock the gigantic billow fell, and instantly the spouting-holes sent up a gush of water-spouts with such force that they shrieked on issuing from their narrow vents. It seemed to us as if the earth had been blown up with water. We were stunned and confused by the shock, and so drenched and blinded with spray, that we knew not for a few moments whither to flee for shelter. At length we all three gained an eminence beyond the reach of the water; but what a scene of devastation met our gaze as we looked along the shore! This enormous wave not only burst over the reef, but continued its way across the lagoon, and fell on the sandy beach of the island with such force that it passed completely over it and dashed into the woods, levelling the smaller trees and bushes in its headlong course. On seeing this, Jack said he feared our bower must have been swept away, and that the boat, which was on the beach, must have been utterly destroyed. Our hearts sank within us as we thought of this, and we hastened round through the woods towards our home. On reaching it we found, to our great relief of mind, that the force of the wave had been expended just before reaching the bower; but the entrance to it was almost blocked up by the torn-up bushes and tangled heaps of seaweed. Having satisfied ourselves as to the bower, we hurried to the spot where the boat had been left; but no boat was there. The spot on which it had stood was vacant, and no sign of it could we see on looking around us. "It may have been washed up into the woods," said Jack, hurrying up the beach as he spoke. Still no boat was to be seen, and we were about to give ourselves over to despair, when Peterkin called to Jack and said-- "Jack, my friend, you were once so exceedingly sagacious and wise as to make me acquainted with the fact that cocoa-nuts grow upon trees; will you now be so good as to inform me what sort of fruit that is growing on the top of yonder bush? for I confess to being ignorant, or, at least, doubtful on the point." We looked towards the bush indicated, and there, to our surprise, beheld our little boat snugly nestled among the leaves. We were very much overjoyed at this, for we would have suffered any loss rather than the loss of our boat. We found that the wave had actually borne the boat on its crest from the beach into the woods, and there launched it into the heart of this bush; which was extremely fortunate, for had it been tossed against a rock or a tree, it would have been dashed to pieces, whereas it had not received the smallest injury. It was no easy matter, however, to get it out of the bush and down to the sea again. This cost us two days of hard labour to accomplish. We had also much ado to clear away the rubbish from before the bower, and spent nearly a week in constant labour ere we got the neighbourhood to look as clean and orderly as before; for the uprooted bushes and seaweed that lay on the beach formed a more dreadfully confused-looking mass than one who had not seen the place after the inundation could conceive. Before leaving the subject, I may mention, for the sake of those who interest themselves in the curious natural phenomena of our world, that this gigantic wave occurs regularly on some of the islands of the Pacific once, and sometimes twice, in the year. I heard this stated by the missionaries during my career in those seas. They could not tell me whether it visited all of the islands, but I was certainly assured that it occurred periodically in some of them. After we had got our home put to rights, and cleared of the debris of the inundation, we again turned our thoughts to paying the penguins a visit. The boat was therefore overhauled and a few repairs done. Then we prepared a supply of provisions, for we intended to be absent at least a night or two, perhaps longer. This took us some time to do, for while Jack was busy with the boat, Peterkin was sent into the woods to spear a hog or two, and had to search long, sometimes, ere he found them. Peterkin was usually sent on this errand when we wanted a pork chop (which was not seldom), because he was so active and could run so wonderfully fast that he found no difficulty in overtaking the hogs; but, being dreadfully reckless, he almost invariably tumbled over stumps and stones in the course of his wild chase, and seldom returned home without having knocked the skin off his shins. Once, indeed, a more serious accident happened to him. He had been out all the morning alone, and did not return at the usual time to dinner. We wondered at this, for Peterkin was always very punctual at the dinner-hour. As supper-time drew near, we began to be anxious about him, and at length sallied forth to search the woods. For a long time we sought in vain, but a little before dark we came upon the tracks of the hogs, which we followed up until we came to the brow of a rather steep bank or precipice. Looking over this, we beheld Peterkin lying in a state of insensibility at the foot, with his cheek resting on the snout of a little pig, which was pinned to the earth by the spear. We were dreadfully alarmed, but hastened to bathe his forehead with water, and had soon the satisfaction of seeing him revive. After we had carried him home, he related to us how the thing had happened. "You must know," said he, "I walked about all the forenoon, till I was as tired as an old donkey, without seeing a single grunter--not so much as a track of one; but as I was determined not to return empty-handed, I resolved to go without my dinner, and--" "What!" exclaimed Jack, "did you _really_ resolve to do that?" "Now, Jack, hold your tongue," returned Peterkin. "I say that I resolved to forego my dinner and to push to the head of the small valley, where I felt pretty sure of discovering the hogs. I soon found that I was on the right scent, for I had scarcely walked half a mile in the direction of the small plum tree we found there the other day, when a squeak fell on my ear. 'Ho, ho,' said I, 'there you go, my boys;' and I hurried up the glen. I soon started them, and, singling out a fat pig, ran tilt at him, In a few seconds I was up with him, and stuck my spear right through his dumpy body. Just as I did so, I saw that we were on the edge of a precipice, whether high or low I knew not; but I had been running at such a pace that I could not stop, so the pig and I gave a howl in concert and went plunging over together. I remembered nothing more after that, till I came to my senses and found you bathing my temples, and Ralph wringing his hands over me." But although Peterkin was often unfortunate in the way of getting tumbles, he was successful on the present occasion in hunting, and returned before evening with three very nice little hogs. I also was successful in my visit to the mud-flats, where I killed several ducks. So that, when we launched and loaded our boat at sunrise the following morning, we found our store of provisions to be more than sufficient. Part had been cooked the night before, and on taking note of the different items, we found the account to stand thus:-- 10 Bread-fruits (two baked, eight unbaked). 20 Yams (six roasted, the rest raw). 6 Taro roots. 50 Fine large plums. 6 Cocoa-nuts, ripe. 6 Ditto, green (for drinking). 4 Large ducks and two small ones (raw). 3 Cold roast pigs, with stuffing. I may here remark that the stuffing had been devised by Peterkin specially for the occasion. He kept the manner of its compounding a profound secret, so I cannot tell what it was; but I can say, with much confidence, that we found it to be atrociously bad, and, after the first tasting, scraped it carefully out and threw it overboard. We calculated that this supply would last us for several days; but we afterwards found that it was much more than we required, especially in regard to the cocoa-nuts, of which we found large supplies wherever we went. However, as Peterkin remarked, it was better to have too much than too little, as we knew not to what straits we might be put during our voyage. It was a very calm, sunny morning when we launched forth and rowed over the lagoon towards the outlet in the reef, and passed between the two green islets that guarded the entrance. We experienced some difficulty and no little danger in passing the surf of the breaker, and shipped a good deal of water in the attempt; but, once past the billow, we found ourselves floating placidly on the long oily swell that rose and fell slowly as it rolled over the wide ocean. Penguin Island lay on the other side of our own island at about a mile beyond the outer reef, and we calculated that it must be at least twenty miles distant by the way we should have to go. We might, indeed, have shortened the way by coasting round our island inside of the lagoon, and going out at the passage in the reef nearly opposite to Penguin Island; but we preferred to go by the open sea--first, because it was more adventurous, and, secondly, because we should have the pleasure of again feeling the motion of the deep, which we all loved very much, not being liable to sea-sickness. "I wish we had a breeze," said Jack. "So do I," cried Peterkin, resting on his oar and wiping his heated brow; "pulling is hard work. Oh dear, if we could only catch a hundred or two of these gulls, tie them to the boat with long strings, and make them fly as we want them, how capital it would be!" "Or bore a hole through a shark's tail, and reeve a rope through it, eh?" remarked Jack. "But I say, it seems that my wish is going to be granted, for here comes a breeze. Ship your oar, Peterkin. Up with the mast, Ralph; I'll see to the sail. Mind your helm; look out for squalls!" This last speech was caused by the sudden appearance of a dark-blue line on the horizon, which, in an incredibly short space of time, swept down on us, lashing up the sea in white foam as it went. We presented the stern of the boat to its first violence, and in a few seconds it moderated into a steady breeze, to which we spread our sail and flew merrily over the waves. Although the breeze died away soon afterwards, it had been so stiff while it lasted that we were carried over the greater part of our way before it fell calm again; so that, when the flapping of the sail against the mast told us that it was time to resume the oars, we were not much more than a mile from Penguin Island. "There go the soldiers!" cried Peterkin, as we came in sight of it; "how spruce their white trousers look this morning! I wonder if they will receive us kindly. D'you think they are hospitable, Jack?" "Don't talk, Peterkin, but pull away, and you shall see shortly." As we drew near to the island we were much amused by the manoeuvres and appearance of these strange birds. They seemed to be of different species, for some had crests on their heads while others had none, and while some were about the size of a goose, others appeared nearly as large as a swan. We also saw a huge albatross soaring above the heads of the penguins. It was followed and surrounded by numerous flocks of sea-gulls. Having approached to within a few yards of the island, which was a low rock, with no other vegetation on it than a few bushes, we lay on our oars and gazed at the birds with surprise and pleasure, they returning our gaze with interest. We now saw that their soldier-like appearance was owing to the stiff, erect manner in which they sat on their short legs--"bolt-upright," as Peterkin expressed it. They had black heads, long sharp beaks, white breasts, and bluish backs. Their wings were so short that they looked more like the fins of a fish, and, indeed, we soon saw that they used them for the purpose of swimming under water. There were no quills on these wings, but a sort of scaly feathers, which also thickly covered their bodies. Their legs were short, and placed so far back that the birds, while on land, were obliged to stand quite upright in order to keep their balance; but in the water they floated like other waterfowl. At first we were so stunned with the clamour which they and other sea-birds kept up around us, that we knew not which way to look--for they covered the rocks in thousands; but, as we continued to gaze, we observed several quadrupeds (as we thought) walking in the midst of the penguins. "Pull in a bit," cried Peterkin, "and let's see what these are. They must be fond of noisy company, to consort with such creatures." To our surprise, we found that these were no other than penguins which had gone down on all fours, and were crawling among the bushes on their feet and wings, just like quadrupeds. Suddenly one big old bird, that had been sitting on a point very near to us, gazing in mute astonishment, became alarmed, and, scuttling down the rocks, plumped or fell, rather than ran, into the sea. It dived in a moment, and, a few seconds afterwards, came out of the water far ahead, with such a spring, and such a dive back into the sea again, that we could scarcely believe it was not a fish that had leaped in sport. "That beats everything," said Peterkin, rubbing his nose, and screwing up his face with an expression of exasperated amazement. "I've heard of a thing being neither fish, flesh, nor fowl, but I never did expect to live to see a brute that was all three together--at once--in one! But look there!" he continued--pointing with a look of resignation to the shore--"look there! there's no end to it. What _has_ that brute got under its tail?" We turned to look in the direction pointed out, and there saw a penguin walking slowly and very sedately along the shore with an egg under its tail. There were several others, we observed, burdened in the same way; and we found afterwards that these were a species of penguin that always carried their eggs so. Indeed, they had a most convenient cavity for the purpose, just between the tail and the legs. We were very much impressed with the regularity and order of this colony. The island seemed to be apportioned out into squares, of which each penguin possessed one, and sat in stiff solemnity in the middle of it, or took a slow march up and down the spaces between. Some were hatching their eggs, but others were feeding their young ones in a manner that caused us to laugh not a little. The mother stood on a mound or raised rock, while the young one stood patiently below her on the ground. Suddenly the mother raised her head and uttered a series of the most discordant cackling sounds. "She's going to choke," cried Peterkin. But this was not the case, although, I confess, she looked like it. In a few seconds she put down her head and opened her mouth, into which the young one thrust its beak and seemed to suck something from her throat. Then the cackling was renewed, the sucking continued, and so the operation of feeding was carried on till the young one was satisfied; but what she fed her little one with we could not tell. "Now, just look yonder!" said Peterkin in an excited tone; "if that isn't the most abominable piece of maternal deception I ever saw! That rascally old lady penguin has just pitched her young one into the sea, and there's another about to follow her example." This indeed seemed to be the case, for on the top of a steep rock close to the edge of the sea we observed an old penguin endeavouring to entice her young one into the water; but the young one seemed very unwilling to go, and, notwithstanding the enticements of its mother, moved very slowly towards her. At last she went gently behind the young bird and pushed it a little towards the water, but with great tenderness, as much as to say, "Don't be afraid, darling; I won't hurt you, my pet!" but no sooner did she get it to the edge of the rock, where it stood looking pensively down at the sea, than she gave it a sudden and violent push, sending it headlong down the slope into the water, where its mother left it to scramble ashore as it best could. We observed many of them employed in doing this, and we came to the conclusion that this is the way in which old penguins teach their children to swim. Scarcely had we finished making our remarks on this, when we were startled by about a dozen of the old birds hopping in the most clumsy and ludicrous manner towards the sea. The beach here was a sloping rock, and when they came to it some of them succeeded in hopping down in safety, but others lost their balance, and rolled and scrambled down the slope in the most helpless manner. The instant they reached the water, however, they seemed to be in their proper element. They dived and bounded out of it and into it again with the utmost agility; and so, diving and bounding and sputtering--for they could not fly--they went rapidly out to sea. On seeing this, Peterkin turned with a grave face to us and said: "It's my opinion that these birds are all stark, staring mad, and that this is an enchanted island. I therefore propose that we should either put about ship and fly in terror from the spot, or land valorously on the island, and sell our lives as dearly as we can." "I vote for landing; so pull in, lads," said Jack, giving a stroke with his oar that made the boat spin. In a few seconds we ran the boat into a little creek, where we made her fast to a projecting piece of coral, and running up the beach, entered the ranks of the penguins armed with our cudgels and our spear. We were greatly surprised to find that, instead of attacking us or showing signs of fear at our approach, these curious birds did not move from their places until we laid hands on them, and merely turned their eyes on us in solemn, stupid wonder as we passed. There was one old penguin, however, that began to walk slowly towards the sea, and Peterkin took it into his head that he would try to interrupt its progress, so he ran between it and the sea and brandished his cudgel in its face. But this proved to be a resolute old bird. It would not retreat; nay, more, it would not cease to advance, but battled with Peterkin bravely and drove him before it until it reached the sea. Had Peterkin used his club he could easily have felled it, no doubt; but as he had no wish to do so cruel an act merely out of sport, he let the bird escape. We spent fully three hours on this island in watching the habit of these curious birds, but when we finally left them, we all three concluded, after much consultation, that they were the most wonderful creatures we had ever seen; and further, we thought it probable that they were the most wonderful creatures in the world! Chapter XVIII An awful storm and its consequences--Narrow escape--A rock proves a sure foundation--A fearful night and a bright morning--Deliverance from danger. It was evening before we left the island of the penguins. As we had made up our minds to encamp for the night on a small island, whereon grew a few cocoa-nut trees, which was about two miles off, we lay to our oars with some energy. But a danger was in store for us which we had not anticipated. The wind which had carried us so quickly to Penguin Island freshened as evening drew on to a stiff breeze, and before we had made half the distance to the small island, it became a regular gale. Although it was not so directly against us as to prevent our rowing in the course we wished to go, yet it checked us very much; and although the force of the sea was somewhat broken by the island, the waves soon began to rise, and to roll their broken crests against our small craft, so that she began to take in water, and we had much ado to keep ourselves afloat. At last the wind and sea together became so violent that we found it impossible to make the island, so Jack suddenly put the head of the boat round and ordered Peterkin and me to hoist a corner of the sail, intending to run back to Penguin Island. "We shall at least have the shelter of the bushes," he said, as the boat flew before the wind, "and the penguins will keep us company." As Jack spoke, the wind suddenly shifted, and blew so much against us that we were forced to hoist more of the sail in order to beat up for the island, being by this change thrown much to leeward of it. What made matters worse was that the gale came in squalls, so that we were more than once nearly upset. "Stand by, both of you," cried Jack in a quick, earnest tone; "be ready to douse the sail. I very much fear we won't make the island after all." Peterkin and I were so much in the habit of trusting everything to Jack that we had fallen into the way of not considering things, especially such things as were under Jack's care. We had, therefore, never doubted for a moment that all was going well, so that it was with no little anxiety that we heard him make the above remark. However, we had no time for question or surmise, for at the moment he spoke a heavy squall was bearing down upon us; and as we were then flying with our lee gunwale dipping occasionally under the waves, it was evident that we should have to lower our sail altogether. In a few seconds the squall struck the boat, but Peterkin and I had the sail down in a moment, so that it did not upset us; but when it was past we were more than half full of water. This I soon baled out, while Peterkin again hoisted a corner of the sail; but the evil which Jack had feared came upon us. We found it quite impossible to make Penguin Island. The gale carried us quickly past it towards the open sea, and the terrible truth flashed upon us that we should be swept out and left to perish miserably in a small boat in the midst of the wide ocean. This idea was forced very strongly upon us because we saw nothing in the direction whither the wind was blowing us save the raging billows of the sea; and, indeed, we trembled as we gazed around us, for we were now beyond the shelter of the islands, and it seemed as though any of the huge billows, which curled over in masses of foam, might swallow us up in a moment. The water, also, began to wash in over our sides, and I had to keep constantly baling, for Jack could not quit the helm nor Peterkin the sail for an instant without endangering our lives. In the midst of this distress Jack uttered an exclamation of hope, and pointed towards a low island or rock which lay directly ahead. It had been hitherto unobserved, owing to the dark clouds that obscured the sky and the blinding spray that seemed to fill the whole atmosphere. As we neared this rock, we observed that it was quite destitute of trees and verdure, and so low that the sea broke completely over it. In fact, it was nothing more than the summit of one of the coral formations, which rose only a few feet above the level of the water, and was, in stormy weather, all but invisible. Over this island the waves were breaking in the utmost fury, and our hearts sank within us as we saw that there was not a spot where we could thrust our little boat without its being dashed to pieces. "Show a little bit more sail," cried Jack, as we swept past the weather side of the rock with fearful speed. "Ay, ay," answered Peterkin, hoisting about a foot more of our sail. Little though the addition was, it caused the boat to lie over and creak so loudly as we cleft the foaming waves, that I expected to be upset every instant; and I blamed Jack in my heart for his rashness. But I did him injustice, for although, during two seconds the water rushed inboard in a torrent, he succeeded in steering us sharply round to the leeward side of the rock, where the water was comparatively calm and the force of the breeze broken. "Out your oars now, lads! that's well done. Give way!" We obeyed instantly. The oars splashed into the waves together. One good, hearty pull, and we were floating in a comparatively calm creek that was so narrow as to be barely able to admit our boat. Here we were in perfect safety, and as we leaped on shore and fastened our cable to the rocks, I thanked God in my heart for our deliverance from so great danger. But although I have said we were now in safety, I suspect that few of my readers would have envied our position. It is true we had no lack of food, but we were drenched to the skin; the sea was foaming round us and the spray flying over our heads, so that we were completely enveloped, as it were, in water; the spot on which we had landed was not more than twelve yards in diameter, and from this spot we could not move without the risk of being swept away by the storm. At the upper end of the creek was a small hollow or cave in the rock, which sheltered us from the fury of the winds and waves; and as the rock extended in a sort of ledge over our heads, it prevented the spray from falling upon us. "Why," said Peterkin, beginning to feel cheery again, "it seems to me that we have got into a mermaid's cave; for there is nothing but water all round us, and as for earth and sky, they are things of the past." Peterkin's idea was not inappropriate, for what with the sea roaring in white foam up to our very feet, and the spray flying in white sheets continually over our heads, and the water dripping heavily from the ledge above like a curtain in front of our cave, it did seem to us very much more like being below than above water. "Now, boys," cried Jack, "bestir yourselves, and let's make ourselves comfortable.--Toss out our provisions, Peterkin: and here, Ralph, lend a hand to haul up the boat. Look sharp." "Ay, ay, captain," we cried, as we hastened to obey, much cheered by the hearty manner of our comrade. Fortunately the cave, although not very deep, was quite dry, so that we succeeded in making ourselves much more comfortable than could have been expected. We landed our provisions, wrung the water out of our garments, spread our sail below us for a carpet, and, after having eaten a hearty meal, began to feel quite cheerful. But as night drew on our spirits sank again, for with the daylight all evidence of our security vanished away. We could no longer see the firm rock on which we lay, while we were stunned with the violence of the tempest that raged around us. The night grew pitchy dark as it advanced, so that we could not see our hands when we held them up before our eyes, and were obliged to feel each other occasionally to make sure that we were safe, for the storm at last became so terrible that it was difficult to make our voices audible. A slight variation of the wind, as we supposed, caused a few drops of spray ever and anon to blow into our faces; and the eddy of the sea, in its mad boiling, washed up into our little creek until it reached our feet and threatened to tear away our boat. In order to prevent this latter calamity, we hauled the boat farther up and held the cable in our hands. Occasional flashes of lightning shone with a ghastly glare through the watery curtains around us, and lent additional horror to the scene. Yet we longed for those dismal flashes, for they were less appalling than the thick blackness that succeeded them. Crashing peals of thunder seemed to tear the skies in twain, and fell upon our ears through the wild yelling of the hurricane as if it had been but a gentle summer breeze; while the billows burst upon the weather side of the island until we fancied that the solid rock was giving way, and in our agony we clung to the bare ground, expecting every moment to be whirled away and whelmed in the black howling sea. Oh, it was a night of terrible anxiety! and no one can conceive the feelings of intense gratitude and relief with which we at last saw the dawn of day break through the vapoury mists around us. For three days and three nights we remained on this rock, while the storm continued to rage with unabated fury. On the morning of the fourth day it suddenly ceased, and the wind fell altogether; but the waves still ran so high that we did not dare to put off in our boat. During the greater part of this period we scarcely slept above a few minutes at a time, but on the third night we slept soundly, and awoke early on the fourth morning to find the sea very much down, and the sun shining brightly again in the clear blue sky. It was with light hearts that we launched forth once more in our little boat and steered away for our island home, which, we were overjoyed to find, was quite visible on the horizon, for we had feared that we had been blown out of sight of it altogether. As it was a dead calm, we had to row during the greater part of the day; but towards the afternoon a fair breeze sprang up, which enabled us to hoist our sail. We soon passed Penguin Island and the other island which we had failed to reach on the day the storm commenced; but as we had still enough of provisions, and were anxious to get home, we did not land, to the great disappointment of Peterkin, who seemed to entertain quite an affection for the penguins. Although the breeze was pretty fresh for several hours, we did not reach the outer reef of our island till nightfall, and before we had sailed more than a hundred yards into the lagoon, the wind died away altogether, so that we had to take to our oars again. It was late, and the moon and stars were shining brightly, when we arrived opposite the bower and leaped upon the strand. So glad were we to be safe back again on our beloved island, that we scarcely took time to drag the boat a short way up the beach, and then ran up to see that all was right at the bower. I must confess, however, that my joy was mingled with a vague sort of fear lest our home had been visited and destroyed during our absence; but on reaching it we found everything just as it had been left, and the poor black cat curled up, sound asleep, on the coral table in front of our humble dwelling. Chapter XIX Shoemaking--The even tenor of our way suddenly interrupted--An unexpected visit and an appalling battle--We all become warriors, and Jack proves himself to be a hero. For many months after this we continued to live on our island in uninterrupted harmony and happiness. Sometimes we went out a-fishing in the lagoon, and sometimes went a-hunting in the woods, or ascended to the mountain-top, by way of variety, although Peterkin always asserted that we went for the purpose of hailing any ship that might chance to heave in sight. But I am certain that none of us wished to be delivered from our captivity, for we were extremely happy; and Peterkin used to say that, as we were very young, we should not feel the loss of a year or two. Peterkin, as I have said before, was thirteen years of age, Jack eighteen, and I fifteen. But Jack was very tall, strong, and manly for his age, and might easily have been mistaken for twenty. The climate was so beautiful that it seemed to be a perpetual summer, and as many of the fruit-trees continued to bear fruit and blossom all the year round, we never wanted for a plentiful supply of food. The hogs, too, seemed rather to increase than diminish, although Peterkin was very frequent in his attacks on them with his spear. If at any time we failed in finding a drove, we had only to pay a visit to the plum tree before mentioned, where we always found a large family of them asleep under its branches. We employed ourselves very busily during this time in making various garments of cocoa-nut cloth, as those with which we had landed were beginning to be very ragged. Peterkin also succeeded in making excellent shoes out of the skin of the old hog, in the following manner. He first cut a piece of the hide, of an oblong form, a few inches longer than his foot. This he soaked in water, and while it was wet he sewed up one end of it, so as to form a rough imitation of that part of the heel of a shoe where the seam is. This done, he bored a row of holes all round the edge of the piece of skin, through which a tough line was passed. Into the sewed-up part of this shoe he thrust his heel; then, drawing the string tight, the edges rose up and overlapped his foot all round. It is true there were a great many ill-looking puckers in these shoes; but we found them very serviceable notwithstanding, and Jack came at last to prefer them to his long boots. We also made various other useful articles, which added to our comfort, and once or twice spoke of building us a house; but we had so great an affection for the bower, and withal found it so serviceable, that we determined not to leave it, nor to attempt the building of a house, which in such a climate might turn out to be rather disagreeable than useful. We often examined the pistol that we had found in the house on the other side of the island, and Peterkin wished much that we had powder and shot, as it would render pig-killing much easier; but, after all, we had become so expert in the use of our sling and bow and spear, that we were independent of more deadly weapons. Diving in the Water Garden also continued to afford us as much pleasure as ever; and Peterkin began to be a little more expert in the water from constant practice. As for Jack and me, we began to feel as if water were our native element, and revelled in it with so much confidence and comfort that Peterkin said he feared we would turn into fish some day and swim off and leave him, adding that he had been for a long time observing that Jack was becoming more and more like a shark every day. Whereupon Jack remarked that if he, Peterkin, were changed into a fish, he would certainly turn into nothing better or bigger than a shrimp. Poor Peterkin did not envy us our delightful excursions under water, except, indeed, when Jack would dive down to the bottom of the Water Garden, sit down on a rock, and look up and make faces at him. Peterkin did feel envious then, and often said he would give anything to be able to do that. I was much amused when Peterkin said this; for if he could only have seen his own face when he happened to take a short dive, he would have seen that Jack's was far surpassed by it: the great difference being, however, that Jack made faces on purpose--Peterkin couldn't help it! Now, while we were engaged with these occupations and amusements, an event occurred one day which was as unexpected as it was exceedingly alarming and very horrible. Jack and I were sitting, as we were often wont to do, on the rocks at Spouting Cliff, and Peterkin was wringing the water from his garments, having recently fallen by accident into the sea--a thing he was constantly doing--when our attention was suddenly arrested by two objects which appeared on the horizon. "What are yon, think you?" I said, addressing Jack. "I can't imagine," answered he. "I've noticed them for some time, and fancied they were black sea-gulls, but the more I look at them the more I feel convinced they are much larger than gulls." "They seem to be coming towards us," said I. "Hallo! what's wrong?" inquired Peterkin, coming up. "Look there," said Jack. "Whales!" cried Peterkin, shading his eyes with his hand. "No--eh--_can_ they be boats, Jack?" Our hearts beat with excitement at the very thought of seeing human faces again. "I think you are about right, Peterkin. But they seem to me to move strangely for boats," said Jack in a low tone, as if he were talking to himself. I noticed that a shade of anxiety crossed Jack's countenance as he gazed long and intently at the two objects, which were now nearing us fast. At last he sprang to his feet. "They are canoes, Ralph! Whether war-canoes or not I cannot tell; but this I know, that all the natives of the South Sea Islands are fierce cannibals, and they have little respect for strangers. We must hide if they land here, which I earnestly hope they will not do." I was greatly alarmed at Jack's speech, but I confess I thought less of what he said than of the earnest, anxious manner in which he said it; and it was with very uncomfortable feelings that Peterkin and I followed him quickly into the woods. "How unfortunate," said I, as we gained the shelter of the bushes, "that we have forgotten our arms!" "It matters not," said Jack; "here are clubs enough and to spare." As he spoke, he laid his hand on a bundle of stout poles of various sizes, which Peterkin's ever-busy hands had formed during our frequent visits to the cliff, for no other purpose, apparently, than that of having something to do. We each selected a stout club according to our several tastes, and lay down behind a rock, whence we could see the canoes approach, without ourselves being seen. At first we made an occasional remark on their appearance, but after they entered the lagoon, and drew near the beach, we ceased to speak, and gazed with intense interest at the scene before us. We now observed that the foremost canoe was being chased by the other, and that it contained a few women and children, as well as men--perhaps forty souls altogether; while the canoe which pursued it contained only men. They seemed to be about the same in number, but were better armed, and had the appearance of being a war-party. Both crews were paddling with all their might, and it seemed as if the pursuers exerted themselves to overtake the fugitives ere they could land. In this, however, they failed. The foremost canoe made for the beach close beneath the rocks behind which we were concealed. Their short paddles flashed like meteors in the water, and sent up a constant shower of spray. The foam curled from the prow, and the eyes of the rowers glistened in their black faces, as they strained every muscle of their naked bodies; nor did they relax their efforts till the canoe struck the beach with a violent shock, then with a shout of defiance the whole party sprang, as if by magic, from the canoe to the shore. Three women, two of whom carried infants in their arms, rushed into the woods; and the men crowded to the water's edge, with stones in their hands, spears levelled, and clubs brandished, to resist the landing of their enemies. The distance between the two canoes had been about half a mile, and, at the great speed they were going, this was soon passed. As the pursuers neared the shore, no sign of fear or hesitation was noticeable. On they came like a wild charger--received but recked not of a shower of stones. The canoe struck, and with a yell that seemed to issue from the throats of incarnate fiends, they leaped into the water, and drove their enemies up the beach. The battle that immediately ensued was frightful to behold. Most of the men wielded clubs of enormous size and curious shapes, with which they dashed out each other's brains. As they were almost entirely naked, and had to bound, stoop, leap, and run in their terrible hand-to-hand encounters, they looked more like demons than human beings. I felt my heart grow sick at the sight of this bloody battle, and would fain have turned away, but a species of fascination seemed to hold me down and glue my eyes upon the combatants. I observed that the attacking party was led by a most extraordinary being, who, from his size and peculiarity, I concluded was a chief. His hair was frizzed out to an enormous extent, so that it resembled a large turban. It was of a light-yellow hue, which surprised me much, for the man's body was as black as coal, and I felt convinced that the hair must have been dyed. He was tattooed from head to foot, and his face, besides being tattooed, was besmeared with red paint, and streaked with white. Altogether, with his yellow, turban-like hair, his Herculean black frame, his glittering eyes and white teeth, he seemed the most terrible monster I ever beheld. He was very active in the fight, and had already killed four men. Suddenly the yellow-haired chief was attacked by a man quite as strong and large as himself. He flourished a heavy club something like an eagle's beak at the point. For a second or two these giants eyed each other warily, moving round and round, as if to catch each other at a disadvantage; but seeing that nothing was to be gained by this caution, and that the loss of time might effectually turn the tide of battle either way, they apparently made up their minds to attack at the same instant, for, with a wild shout and simultaneous spring, they swung their heavy clubs, which met with a loud report. Suddenly the yellow-haired savage tripped, his enemy sprang forward, the ponderous club was swung, but it did not descend, for at that moment the savage was felled to the ground by a stone from the hand of one who had witnessed his chief's danger. This was the turning-point in the battle. The savages who landed first turned and fled towards the bush, on seeing the fall of their chief. But not one escaped. They were all overtaken and felled to the earth. I saw, however, that they were not all killed. Indeed, their enemies, now that they were conquered, seemed anxious to take them alive; and they succeeded in securing fifteen, whom they bound hand and foot with cords, and carrying them up into the woods, laid them down among the bushes. Here they left them, for what purpose I knew not, and returned to the scene of the late battle, where the remnant of the party were bathing their wounds. Out of the forty blacks that composed the attacking party, only twenty-eight remained alive, two of whom were sent into the bush to hunt for the women and children. Of the other party, as I have said, only fifteen survived, and these were lying bound and helpless on the grass. Jack and Peterkin and I now looked at each other, and whispered our fears that the savages might clamber up the rocks to search for fresh water, and so discover our place of concealment; but we were so much interested in watching their movements that we agreed to remain where we were--and, indeed, we could not easily have risen without exposing ourselves to detection. One of the savages now went up to the wood, and soon returned with a bundle of firewood, and we were not a little surprised to see him set fire to it by the very same means used by Jack the time we made our first fire--namely, with the bow and drill. When the fire was kindled, two of the party went again to the woods and returned with one of the bound men. A dreadful feeling of horror crept over my heart as the thought flashed upon me that they were going to burn their enemies. As they bore him to the fire my feelings almost overpowered me. I gasped for breath, and seizing my club, endeavoured to spring to my feet; but Jack's powerful arm pinned me to the earth. Next moment one of the savages raised his club, and fractured the wretched creature's skull. He must have died instantly; and, strange though it may seem, I confess to a feeling of relief when the deed was done, because I now knew that the poor savage could not be burned alive. Scarcely had his limbs ceased to quiver when the monsters cut slices of flesh from his body, and, after roasting them slightly over the fire, devoured them. Suddenly there arose a cry from the woods, and in a few seconds the two savages hastened towards the fire dragging the three women and their two infants along with them. One of those women was much younger than her companions, and we were struck with the modesty of her demeanour and the gentle expression of her face, which, although she had the flattish nose and thick lips of the others, was of a light-brown colour, and we conjectured that she must be of a different race. She and her companions wore short petticoats and a kind of tippet on their shoulders. Their hair was jet black, but instead of being long, was short and curly--though not woolly--somewhat like the hair of a young boy. While we gazed with interest and some anxiety at these poor creatures, the big chief advanced to one of the elder females and laid his hand upon the child. But the mother shrank from him, and clasping the little one to her bosom, uttered a wail of fear. With a savage laugh, the chief tore the child from her arms and tossed it into the sea. A low groan burst from Jack's lips as he witnessed this atrocious act and heard the mother's shriek, as she fell insensible on the sand. The rippling waves rolled the child on the beach, as if they refused to be a party in such a foul murder, and we could observe that the little one still lived. The young girl was now brought forward, and the chief addressed her; but although we heard his voice and even the words distinctly, of course we could not understand what he said. The girl made no answer to his fierce questions, and we saw by the way in which he pointed to the fire that he threatened her life. "Peterkin," said Jack in a hoarse whisper, "have you got your knife?" "Yes," replied Peterkin, whose face was pale as death. "That will do. Listen to me, and do my bidding quick.--Here is the small knife, Ralph.--Fly both of you through the bush, cut the cords that bind the prisoners, and set them free. There! quick, ere it be too late." Jack sprang up, and seized a heavy but short bludgeon, while his strong frame trembled with emotion, and large drops rolled down his forehead. At this moment the man who had butchered the savage a few minutes before advanced towards the girl with his heavy club. Jack uttered a yell that rang like a death-shriek among the rocks. With one bound he leaped over a precipice full fifteen feet high, and before the savages had recovered from their surprise, was in the midst of them; while Peterkin and I dashed through the bushes towards the prisoners. With one blow of his staff Jack felled the man with the club; then, turning round with a look of fury, he rushed upon the big chief with the yellow hair. Had the blow which Jack aimed at his head taken effect, the huge savage would have needed no second stroke; but he was agile as a cat, and avoided it by springing to one side, while at the same time he swung his ponderous club at the head of his foe. It was now Jack's turn to leap aside, and well was it for him that the first outburst of his blind fury was over, else he had become an easy prey to his gigantic antagonist; but Jack was cool now. He darted his blows rapidly and well, and the superiority of his light weapon was strikingly proved in this combat; for while he could easily evade the blows of the chiefs heavy club, the chief could not so easily evade those of his light one. Nevertheless, so quick was he, and so frightfully did he fling about the mighty weapon, that although Jack struck him almost every blow, the strokes had to be delivered so quickly that they wanted force to be very effectual. It was lucky for Jack that the other savages considered the success of their chief in this encounter to be so certain that they refrained from interfering. Had they doubted it, they would have probably ended the matter at once by felling him. But they contented themselves with awaiting the issue. The force which the chief expended in wielding his club now began to be apparent. His movements became slower, his breath hissed through his clinched teeth, and the surprised savages drew nearer in order to render assistance. Jack observed this movement. He felt that his fate was sealed, and resolved to cast his life upon the next blow. The chiefs club was again about to descend on his head. He might have evaded it easily, but instead of doing so, he suddenly shortened his grasp of his own club, rushed in under the blow, struck his adversary right between the eyes with all his force, and fell to the earth, crushed beneath the senseless body of the chief. A dozen clubs flew high in air, ready to descend on the head of Jack; but they hesitated a moment, for the massive body of the chief completely covered him. That moment saved his life. Ere the savages could tear the chief's body away, seven of their number fell prostrate beneath the clubs of the prisoners whom Peterkin and I had set free, and two others fell under our own hand. We could never have accomplished this had not our enemies been so engrossed with the fight between Jack and their chief that they had failed to observe us until we were upon them. They still outnumbered our party by three; but we were flushed with victory, while they were taken by surprise and dispirited by the fall of their chief. Moreover, they were awe-struck by the sweeping fury of Jack, who seemed to have lost his senses altogether, and had no sooner shaken himself free of the chief's body than he rushed into the midst of them, and in three blows equalised our numbers. Peterkin and I flew to the rescue, the savages followed us, and in less than ten minutes the whole of our opponents were knocked down or made prisoners, bound hand and foot, and extended side by side upon the sea-shore. Chapter XX Intercourse with the savages--Cannibalism prevented--The slain are buried and the survivors depart, leaving us again alone on our Coral Island. After the battle was over, the savages crowded round us and gazed at us in surprise, while they continued to pour upon us a flood of questions, which, being wholly unintelligible, of course we could not answer. However, by way of putting an end to it, Jack took the chief (who had recovered from the effects of his wound) by the hand and shook it warmly. No sooner did the blacks see that this was meant to express good-will than they shook hands with us all round. After this ceremony was gone through, Jack went up to the girl, who had never once moved from the rock where she had been left, but had continued an eager spectator of all that had passed. He made signs to her to follow him, and then, taking the chief by the hand, was about to conduct him to the bower, when his eye fell on the poor infant which had been thrown into the sea and was still lying on the shore. Dropping the chief's hand, he hastened towards it, and, to his great joy, found it to be still alive. We also found that the mother was beginning to recover slowly. "Here, get out o' the way," said Jack, pushing us aside, as we stooped over the poor woman and endeavoured to restore her; "I'll soon bring her round." So saying, he placed the infant on her bosom and laid its warm cheek on hers. The effect was wonderful. The woman opened her eyes, felt the child, looked at it, and with a cry of joy clasped it in her arms, at the same time endeavouring to rise, for the purpose, apparently, of rushing into the woods. "There, that's all right," said Jack, once more taking the chief by the hand. "Now, Ralph and Peterkin, make the women and these fellows follow me to the bower. We'll entertain them as hospitably as we can." In a few minutes the savages were all seated on the ground in front of the bower making a hearty meal off a cold roast pig, several ducks, and a variety of cold fish, together with an unlimited supply of cocoa-nuts, breadfruits, yams, taro, and plums; with all of which they seemed to be quite familiar and perfectly satisfied. Meanwhile, we three, being thoroughly knocked up with our day's work, took a good draught of cocoa-nut lemonade, and, throwing ourselves on our beds, fell fast asleep. The savages, it seems, followed our example, and in half-an-hour the whole camp was buried in repose. How long we slept I cannot tell, but this I know, that when we lay down the sun was setting, and when we awoke it was high in the heavens. I awoke Jack, who started up in surprise, being unable at first to comprehend our situation. "Now then," said he, springing up, "let's see after breakfast. Hallo, Peterkin, lazy fellow! how long do you mean to lie there?" Peterkin yawned heavily. "Well," said he, opening his eyes and looking up after some trouble, "if it isn't to-morrow morning, and me thinking it was to-day all this time! Hallo, Venus, where did you come from? You seem tolerably at home, anyhow! Bah! might as well speak to the cat as to you--better, in fact, for it understands me, and you don't." This remark was called forth by the sight of one of the elderly females, who had seated herself on the rock in front of the bower, and having placed her child at her feet, was busily engaged in devouring the remains of a roast pig. By this time the natives outside were all astir, and breakfast in an advanced state of preparation. During the course of it we made sundry attempts to converse with the natives by signs, but without effect. At last we hit upon a plan of discovering their names. Jack pointed to his breast and said "Jack" very distinctly; then he pointed to Peterkin and to me, repeating our names at the same time. Then he pointed to himself again and said "Jack," and laying his finger on the breast of the chief, looked inquiringly into his face. The chief instantly understood him, and said "Tararo" twice distinctly. Jack repeated it after him, and the chief, nodding his head approvingly, said "Chuck," on hearing which Peterkin exploded with laughter; but Jack turned, and with a frown rebuked him, saying; "I must look even more indignantly at you than I feel, Peterkin, you rascal, for these fellows don't like to be laughed at." Then turning towards the youngest of the women, who was seated at the door of the bower, he pointed to her; whereupon the chief said "Avatea," and pointing towards the sun, raised his finger slowly towards the zenith, where it remained steadily for a minute or two. "What can that mean, I wonder?" said Jack, looking puzzled. "Perhaps," said Peterkin, "the chief means she is an angel come down to stay here for a while. If so, she's an uncommonly black one!" We did not feel quite satisfied with this explanation, so Jack went up to her and said "Avatea." The woman smiled sadly, and nodded her head, at the same time pointing to her breast and then to the sun, in the same manner as the chief had done. We were much puzzled to know what this could signify, but as there was no way of solving our difficulty we were obliged to rest content. Jack now made signs to the natives to follow him, and taking up his axe, he led them to a place where the battle had been fought. Here we found the prisoners, who had passed the night on the beach, having been totally forgotten by us, as our minds had been full of our guests, and were ultimately overcome by sleep. They did not seem the worse for their exposure, however, as we judged by the hearty appetite with which they devoured the breakfast that was soon after given to them. Jack then began to dig a hole in the sand, and after working a few seconds, he pointed to it and to the dead bodies that lay exposed on the beach. The natives immediately perceived what he wanted, and running for their paddles, dug a hole in the course of half-an-hour that was quite large enough to contain all the bodies of the slain. When it was finished they tossed their dead enemies into it with so much indifference that we felt assured they would not have put themselves to this trouble had we not asked them to do so. The body of the yellow-haired chief was the last thrown in. This wretched man would have recovered from the blow with which Jack felled him, and, indeed, he did endeavour to rise during the _mêlée_ that followed his fall; but one of his enemies, happening to notice the action, dealt him a blow with his club that killed him on the spot. While they were about to throw the sand over this chief, one of the savages stooped over him, and with a knife, made apparently of stone, cut a large slice of flesh from his thigh. We knew at once that he intended to make use of this for food, and could not repress a cry of horror and disgust. "Come, come, you blackguard!" cried Jack, starting up and seizing the man by the arm, "pitch that into the hole. Do you hear?" The savage, of course, did not understand the command, but he perfectly understood the look of disgust with which Jack regarded the flesh, and his fierce gaze as he pointed towards the hole. Nevertheless, he did not obey. Jack instantly turned to Tararo and made signs to him to enforce obedience. The chief seemed to understand the appeal, for he stepped forward, raised his club, and was on the point of dashing out the brains of his offending subject, when Jack sprang forward and caught his uplifted arm. "Stop," he shouted, "you blockhead! I don't want you to kill the man." He then pointed again to the flesh and to the hole. The chief uttered a few words, which had the desired effect; for the man threw the flesh into the hole, which was immediately filled up. This man was of a morose, sulky disposition, and during all the time he remained on the island, regarded us, especially Jack, with a scowling visage. His name, we found, was Mahine. The next three or four days were spent by the savages in mending their canoe, which had been damaged by the violent shock it had sustained on striking the shore. This canoe was a very curious structure. It was about thirty feet long, and had a high, towering stern. The timbers of which it was partly composed, were fastened much in the same way as those of our little boat were put together; but the part that seemed most curious to us was a sort of outrigger, or long plank, which was attached to the body of the canoe by means of two stout cross-beams. These beams kept the plank parallel with the canoe, but not in contact with it, for it floated in the water with an open space between; thus forming a sort of double canoe. This we found was intended to prevent the upsetting of the canoe, which was so narrow that it could not have maintained an upright position without the outrigger. We could not help wondering both at the ingenuity and the clumsiness of this contrivance. When the canoe was ready, we assisted the natives to carry the prisoners into it, and helped them to load it with provisions and fruit. Peterkin also went to the plum tree for the purpose of making a special onslaught upon the hogs, and killed no less than six of them. These we baked and presented to our friends on the day of their departure. On that day Tararo made a great many energetic signs to us, which, after much consideration, we came to understand were proposals that we should go away with him to his island; but having no desire to do so, we shook our heads very decidedly. However, we consoled him by presenting him with our rusty axe, which we thought we could spare, having the excellent one which had been so providentially washed ashore to us the day we were wrecked. We also gave him a piece of wood with our names carved on it, and a piece of string to hang it round his neck as an ornament. In a few minutes more we were all assembled on the beach. Being unable to speak to the savages, we went through the ceremony of shaking hands, and expected they would depart; but before doing so, Tararo went up to Jack and rubbed noses with him, after which he did the same with Peterkin and me! Seeing that this was their mode of salutation, we determined to conform to their custom, so we rubbed noses heartily with the whole party, women and all! The only disagreeable part of the process was when we came to rub noses with Mahine, and Peterkin afterwards said that when he saw his wolfish eyes glaring so close to his face, he felt much more inclined to _bang_ than to _rub_ his nose. Avatea was the last to take leave of us, and we experienced a feeling of real sorrow when she approached to bid us farewell. Besides her modest air and gentle manners, she was the only one of the party who exhibited the smallest sign of regret at parting from us. Going up to Jack, she put out her flat little nose to be rubbed, and thereafter paid the same compliment to Peterkin and me. An hour later the canoe was out of sight, and we, with an indefinable feeling of sadness creeping round our hearts, were seated in silence beneath the shadow of our bower, meditating on the wonderful events of the last few days. Chapter XXI Sagacious and moral remarks in regard to life--A sail!--An unexpected salute--The end of the black cat--A terrible dive--An incautious proceeding and a frightful catastrophe. Life is a strange compound. Peterkin used to say of it that it beat a druggist's shop all to sticks; for whereas the first is a compound of good and bad, the other is a horrible compound of all that is utterly detestable. And indeed the more I consider it the more I am struck with the strange mixture of good and evil that exists not only in the material earth but in our own natures. In our own Coral Island we had experienced every variety of good that a bountiful Creator could heap on us. Yet on the night of the storm we had seen how almost, in our case--and altogether, no doubt, in the case of others less fortunate--all this good might be swept away for ever. We had seen the rich fruit-trees waving in the soft air, the tender herbs shooting upwards under the benign influence of the bright sun; and the next day we had seen these good and beautiful trees and plants uprooted by the hurricane, crushed and hurled to the ground in destructive devastation. We had lived for many months in a clime for the most part so beautiful that we had often wondered whether Adam and Eve had found Eden more sweet; and we had seen the quiet solitudes of our paradise suddenly broken in upon by ferocious savages, and the white sands stained with blood and strewed with lifeless forms; yet among these cannibals we had seen many symptoms of a kindly nature. I pondered these things much, and while I considered them there recurred to my memory those words which I had read in my Bible--"The works of God are wonderful, and His ways past finding out." After these poor savages had left us we used to hold long and frequent conversations about them, and I noticed that Peterkin's manner was now much altered. He did not, indeed, jest less heartily than before, but he did so less frequently, and often there was a tone of deep seriousness in his manner, if not in his words, which made him seem to Jack and me as if he had grown two years older within a few days. But indeed I was not surprised at this, when I reflected on the awful realities which we had witnessed so lately. We could by no means shake off a tendency to gloom for several weeks afterwards; but as time wore away our usual good spirits returned somewhat, and we began to think of the visit of the savages with feelings akin to those with which we recall a terrible dream. One day we were all enjoying ourselves in the Water Garden, preparatory to going on a fishing excursion; for Peterkin had kept us in such constant supply of hogs that we had become quite tired of pork, and desired a change. Peterkin was sunning himself on the ledge of rock, while we were creeping among the rocks below. Happening to look up, I observed Peterkin cutting the most extraordinary capers and making violent gesticulations for us to come up; so I gave Jack a push and rose immediately. "A sail! a sail!--Ralph, look; Jack, away on the horizon there, just over the entrance to the lagoon!" cried Peterkin, as we scrambled up the rocks. "So it is, and a schooner, too!" said Jack, as he proceeded hastily to dress. Our hearts were thrown into a terrible flutter by this discovery, for if it should touch at our island we had no doubt the captain would be happy to give us a passage to some of the civilised islands, where we could find a ship sailing for England, or some other part of Europe. Home, with all its associations, rushed in upon my heart like a flood; and much though I loved the Coral Island and the bower, which had now been our home so long, I felt that I could have quitted all at that moment without a sigh. With joyful anticipations we hastened to the highest point of rock near our dwelling, and awaited the arrival of the vessel; for we now perceived that she was making straight for the island, under a steady breeze. In less than an hour she was close to the reef, where she rounded to and backed her topsails, in order to survey the coast. Seeing this, and fearing that they might not perceive us, we all three waved pieces of cocoa-nut cloth in the air, and soon had the satisfaction of seeing them beginning to lower a boat and bustle about the decks as if they meant to land. Suddenly a flag was run up to the peak, a little cloud of white smoke rose from the schooner's side, and before we could guess their intentions, a cannon-shot came crashing through the bushes, carried away several cocoa-nut trees in its passage, and burst in atoms against the cliff a few yards below the spot on which we stood. With feelings of terror we now observed that the flag at the schooner's peak was black, with a Death's-head and cross-bones upon it. As we gazed at each other in blank amazement, the word "pirate" escaped our lips simultaneously. "What is to be done?" cried Peterkin, as we observed a boat shoot from the vessel's side and make for the entrance of the reef. "If they take us off the island, it will either be to throw us overboard for sport, or to make pirates of us." I did not reply, but looked at Jack, as being our only resource in this emergency. He stood with folded arms, and his eyes fixed with a grave, anxious expression on the ground. "There is but one hope," said he, turning with a sad expression of countenance to Peterkin; "perhaps, after all, we may not have to resort to it. If these villains are anxious to take us, they will soon overrun the whole island. But come, follow me." Stopping abruptly in his speech, Jack bounded into the woods, and led us by a circuitous route to Spouting Cliff. Here he halted, and, advancing cautiously to the rocks, glanced over their edge. We were soon by his side, and saw the boat, which was crowded with armed men, just touching the shore. In an instant the crew landed, formed line, and rushed up to our bower. In a few seconds we saw them hurrying back to the boat, one of them swinging the poor cat round his head by the tail. On reaching the water's edge, he tossed it far into the sea, and joined his companions, who appeared to be holding a hasty council. "You see what we may expect," said Jack bitterly. "The man who will wantonly kill a poor brute for sport will think little of murdering a fellow-creature. Now, boys, we have but one chance left--the Diamond Cave." "The Diamond Cave!" cried Peterkin; "then my chance is a poor one, for I could not dive into it if all the pirates on the Pacific were at my heels." "Nay, but," said I, "we will take you down, Peterkin, if you will only trust us." As I spoke, we observed the pirates scatter over the beach, and radiate, as if from a centre, towards the woods and along shore. "Now, Peterkin," said Jack in a solemn tone, "you must make up your mind to do it, or we must make up our minds to die in your company." "O Jack, my dear friend," cried Peterkin, turning pale, "leave me; I don't believe they'll think it worth while to kill me. Go, you and Ralph, and dive into the cave." "That will not I," answered Jack quietly, while he picked up a stout cudgel from the ground.--"So now, Ralph, we must prepare to meet these fellows. Their motto is, 'No quarter.' If we can manage to floor those coming in this direction, we may escape into the woods for a while." "There are five of them," said I; "we have no chance." "Come, then," cried Peterkin, starting up, and grasping Jack convulsively by the arm, "let us dive; I will go." Those who are not naturally expert in the water know well the feelings of horror that overwhelm them, when in it, at the bare idea of being held down even for a few seconds--that spasmodic, involuntary recoil from compulsory immersion which has no connection whatever with cowardice; and they will understand the amount of resolution that it required in Peterkin to allow himself to be dragged down to a depth of ten feet, and then, through a narrow tunnel, into an almost pitch-dark cavern. But there was no alternative. The pirates had already caught sight of us, and were now within a short distance of the rocks. Jack and I seized Peterkin by the arms. "Now, keep quite still; no struggling," said Jack, "or we are lost." Peterkin made no reply, but the stern gravity of his marble features, and the tension of his muscles, satisfied us that he had fully made up his mind to go through with it. Just as the pirates gained the foot of the rocks, which hid us for a moment from their view, we bent over the sea, and plunged down together head foremost. Peterkin behaved like a hero. He floated passively between us like a log of wood, and we passed the tunnel and rose into the cave in a shorter space of time than I had ever done it before. Peterkin drew a long, deep breath on reaching the surface, and in a few seconds we were all standing on the ledge of rock in safety. Jack now searched for the tinder and torch which always lay in the cave. He soon found them, and, lighting the torch, revealed to Peterkin's wondering gaze the marvels of the place. But we were too wet to waste much time in looking about us. Our first care was to take off our clothes and wring them as dry as we could. This done, we proceeded to examine into the state of our larder, for, as Jack truly remarked, there was no knowing how long the pirates might remain on the island. "Perhaps," said Peterkin, "they may take it into their heads to stop here altogether, and so we shall be buried alive in this place." "Don't you think, Peterkin, that it's the nearest thing to being drowned alive that you ever felt?" said Jack with a smile. "But I have no fear of that. These villains never stay long on shore. The sea is their home, so you may depend upon it that they won't stay more than a day or two at the furthest." We now began to make arrangements for spending the night in the cavern. At various periods Jack and I had conveyed cocoa-nuts and other fruits, besides rolls of cocoa-nut cloth, to this submarine cave, partly for amusement, and partly from a feeling that we might possibly be driven one day to take shelter here from the savages. Little did we imagine that the first savages who would drive us into it would be white savages, perhaps our own countrymen. We found the cocoa-nuts in good condition, and the cooked yams, but the bread-fruits were spoiled. We also found the cloth where we had left it, and on opening it out there proved to be sufficient to make a bed; which was important, as the rock was damp. Having collected it all together, we spread out our bed, placed our torch in the midst of us, and ate our supper. It was indeed a strange chamber to feast in; and we could not help remarking on the cold, ghastly appearance of the walls, and the black water at our side, with the thick darkness beyond, and the sullen sound of the drops that fell at long intervals from the roof of the cavern into the still water, and the strong contrast between all this and our bed and supper, which, with our faces, were lit up with the deep red flame of the torch. We sat long over our meal, talking together in subdued voices, for we did not like the dismal echoes that rang through the vault above when we happened to raise them. At last the faint light that came through the opening died away, warning us that it was night and time for rest. We therefore put out our torch and lay down to sleep. On awaking, it was some time ere we could collect our faculties so as to remember where we were, and we were in much uncertainty as to whether it was early or late. We saw by the faint light that it was day, but could not guess at the hour; so Jack proposed that he should dive out and reconnoitre. "No, Jack," said I; "do you rest here. You've had enough to do during the last few days. Rest yourself now, and take care of Peterkin, while I go out to see what the pirates are about. I'll be very careful not to expose myself, and I'll bring you word again in a short time." "Very well, Ralph," answered Jack, "please yourself, but don't be long; and if you'll take my advice you'll go in your clothes, for I would like to have some fresh cocoa-nuts, and climbing trees without clothes is uncomfortable, to say the least of it." "The pirates will be sure to keep a sharp look-out," said Peterkin, "so, pray, be careful." "No fear," said I; "good-bye." "Good-bye," answered my comrades. And while the words were yet sounding in my ears, I plunged into the water, and in a few seconds found myself in the open air. On rising, I was careful to come up gently and to breathe softly, while I kept close in beside the rocks; but as I observed no one near me, I crept slowly out, and ascended the cliff a step at a time, till I obtained a full view of the shore. No pirates were to be seen--even their boat was gone; but as it was possible they might have hidden themselves, I did not venture too boldly forward. Then it occurred to me to look out to sea, when, to my surprise, I saw the pirate schooner sailing away almost hull down on the horizon! On seeing this I uttered a shout of joy. Then my first impulse was to dive back to tell my companions the good news; but I checked myself, and ran to the top of the cliff, in order to make sure that the vessel I saw was indeed the pirate schooner. I looked long and anxiously at her, and giving vent to a deep sigh of relief, said aloud, "Yes, there she goes; the villains have been balked of their prey this time at least." "Not so sure of that!" said a deep voice at my side, while at the same moment a heavy hand grasped my shoulder, and held it as if in a vice. Chapter XXII I fall into the hands of pirates--How they treated me, and what I said to them--The result of the whole ending in a melancholy separation and in a most unexpected gift. My heart seemed to leap into my throat at the words; and turning round, I beheld a man of immense stature and fierce aspect regarding me with a smile of contempt. He was a white man--that is to say, he was a man of European blood, though his face, from long exposure to the weather, was deeply bronzed. His dress was that of a common seaman, except that he had on a Greek skull-cap, and wore a broad shawl of the richest silk round his waist. In this shawl were placed two pairs of pistols and a heavy cutlass. He wore a beard and moustache, which, like the locks on his head, were short, curly, and sprinkled with grey hairs. "So, youngster," he said with a sardonic smile, while I felt his grasp tighten on my shoulder, "the villains have been balked of their prey, have they? We shall see, we shall see. Now, you whelp, look yonder." As he spoke, the pirate uttered a shrill whistle. In a second or two it was answered, and the pirate boat rowed round the point at the Water Garden, and came rapidly towards us. "Now, go, make a fire on that point; and hark'ee, youngster, if you try to run away, I'll send a quick and sure messenger after you," and he pointed significantly at his pistols. I obeyed in silence, and as I happened to have the burning-glass in my pocket, a fire was speedily kindled, and a thick smoke ascended into the air. It had scarcely appeared for two minutes when the boom of a gun rolled over the sea, and looking up, I saw that the schooner was making for the island again. It now flashed across me that this was a ruse on the part of the pirates, and that they had sent their vessel away, knowing that it would lead us to suppose that they had left altogether. But there was no use of regret now. I was completely in their power, so I stood helplessly beside the pirate watching the crew of the boat as they landed on the beach. For an instant I contemplated rushing over the cliff into the sea; but this I saw I could not now accomplish, as some of the men were already between me and the water. There was a good deal of jesting at the success of their scheme, as the crew ascended the rocks and addressed the man who had captured me by the title of captain. They were a ferocious set of men, with shaggy beards and scowling brows. All of them were armed with cutlasses and pistols, and their costumes were, with trifling variations, similar to that of the captain. As I looked from one to the other, and observed the low, scowling brows that never unbent, even when the men laughed, and the mean, rascally expression that sat on each face, I felt that my life hung by a hair. "But where are the other cubs?" cried one of the men, with an oath that made me shudder. "I'll swear to it there were three, at least, if not more." "You hear what he says, whelp: where are the other dogs?" said the captain. "If you mean my companions," said I in a low voice, "I won't tell you." A loud laugh burst from the crew at this answer. The pirate captain looked at me in surprise. Then drawing a pistol from his belt, he cocked it and said, "Now, youngster, listen to me. I've no time to waste here. If you don't tell me all you know, I'll blow your brains out! Where are your comrades?" For an instant I hesitated, not knowing what to do in this extremity. Suddenly a thought occurred to me. "Villain," said I, shaking my clenched fist in his face, "to blow my brains out would make short work of me, and be soon over; death by drowning is as sure, and the agony prolonged: yet I tell you to your face, if you were to toss me over yonder cliff into the sea, I would not tell you where my companions are, and I dare you to try me!" The pirate captain grew white with rage as I spoke. "Say you so?" cried he, uttering a fierce oath.--"Here, lads, take him by the legs and heave him in--quick!" The men, who were utterly silenced with surprise at my audacity, advanced and seized me, and as they carried me towards the cliff I congratulated myself not a little on the success of my scheme; for I knew that once in the water I should be safe, and could rejoin Jack and Peterkin in the cave. But my hopes were suddenly blasted by the captain crying out, "Hold on, lads, hold on! We'll give him a taste of the thumb-screws before throwing him to the sharks. Away with him into the boat. Look alive! the breeze is freshening." The men instantly raised me shoulder high, and hurrying down the rocks, tossed me into the bottom of the boat, where I lay for some time stunned with the violence of my fall. On recovering sufficiently to raise myself on my elbow, I perceived that we were already outside the coral reef, and close alongside the schooner, which was of small size and clipper built. I had only time to observe this much, when I received a severe kick on the side from one of the men, who ordered me, in a rough voice, to jump aboard. Rising hastily, I clambered up the side. In a few minutes the boat was hoisted on deck, the vessel's head put close to the wind, and the Coral Island dropped slowly astern as we beat up against a head sea. Immediately after coming aboard, the crew were too busily engaged in working the ship and getting in the boat to attend to me, so I remained leaning against the bulwarks close to the gangway, watching their operations. I was surprised to find that there were no guns or carronades of any kind in the vessel, which had more the appearance of a fast-sailing trader than a pirate. But I was struck with the neatness of everything. The brass work of the binnacle and about the tiller, as well as the copper belaying-pins, were as brightly polished as if they had just come from the foundry. The decks were pure white, and smooth. The masts were clean-scraped and varnished except at the cross-trees and truck, which were painted black. The standing and running rigging was in the most perfect order, and the sails white as snow. In short, everything, from the single narrow red stripe on her low, black hull to the trucks on her tapering masts, evinced an amount of care and strict discipline that would have done credit to a ship of the Royal Navy. There was nothing lumbering or unseemly about the vessel, excepting, perhaps, a boat, which lay on the deck with its keel up between the fore and main masts. It seemed disproportionately large for the schooner; but when I saw that the crew amounted to between thirty and forty men, I concluded that this boat was held in reserve in case of any accident compelling the crew to desert the vessel. As I have before said, the costumes of the men were similar to that of the captain. But in head-gear they differed not only from him but from each other, some wearing the ordinary straw hat of the merchant service, while others wore cloth caps and red worsted night-caps. I observed that all their arms were sent below, the captain only retaining his cutlass and a single pistol in the folds of his shawl. Although the captain was the tallest and most powerful man in the ship, he did not strikingly excel many of his men in this respect; and the only difference that an ordinary observer would have noticed was a certain degree of open candour, straightforward daring, in the bold, ferocious expression of his face, which rendered him less repulsive than his low-browed associates, but did not by any means induce the belief that he was a hero. This look was, however, the indication of that spirit which gave him the pre-eminence among the crew of desperadoes who called him captain. He was a lion-like villain, totally devoid of personal fear, and utterly reckless of consequences, and therefore a terror to his men, who individually hated him, but unitedly felt it to be to their advantage to have him at their head. But my thoughts soon reverted to the dear companions whom I had left on shore, and as I turned towards the Coral Island, which was now far away to leeward, I sighed deeply, and the tears polled slowly down my cheeks as I thought that I might never see them more. "So you're blubbering, are you, you obstinate whelp?" said the deep voice of the captain, as he came up and gave me a box on the ear that nearly felled me to the deck. "I don't allow any such weakness aboard o' this ship. So clap a stopper on your eyes, or I'll give you something to cry for." I flushed with indignation at this rough and cruel treatment, but felt that giving way to anger would only make matters worse, so I made no reply, but took out my handkerchief and dried my eyes. "I thought you were made of better stuff," continued the captain angrily. "I'd rather have a mad bulldog aboard than a water-eyed puppy. But I'll cure you, lad, or introduce you to the sharks before long. Now go below, and stay there till I call you." As I walked forward to obey, my eye fell on a small keg standing by the side of the main-mast, on which the word gunpowder was written in pencil. It immediately flashed across me that, as we were beating up against the wind, anything floating in the sea would be driven on the reef encircling the Coral Island. I also recollected--for thought is more rapid than the lightning--that my old companions had a pistol. Without a moment's hesitation, therefore, I lifted the keg from the deck and tossed it into the sea! An exclamation of surprise burst from the captain and some of the men who witnessed this act of mine. Striding up to me, and uttering fearful imprecations, the captain raised his hand to strike me, while he shouted, "Boy! whelp! what mean you by that?" "If you lower your hand," said I in a loud voice, while I felt the blood rush to my temples, "I'll tell you. Until you do so I'm dumb." The captain stepped back and regarded me with a look of amazement. "Now," continued I, "I threw that keg into the sea because the wind and waves will carry it to my friends on the Coral Island, who happen to have a pistol, but no powder. I hope that it will reach them soon; and my only regret is that the keg was not a bigger one. Moreover, pirate, you said just now that you thought I was made of better stuff. I don't know what stuff I am made of--I never thought much about that subject--but I'm quite certain of this, that I am made of such stuff as the like of you shall never tame, though you should do your worst." To my surprise the captain, instead of flying into a rage, smiled, and thrusting his hand into the voluminous shawl that encircled his waist, turned on his heel and walked aft, while I went below. Here, instead of being rudely handled, as I had expected, the men received me with a shout of laughter, and one of them, patting me on the back, said, "Well done, lad! you're a brick, and I have no doubt will turn out a rare cove. Bloody Bill there was just such a fellow as you are, and he's now the biggest cut-throat of us all." "Take a can of beer, lad," cried another, "and wet your whistle after that speech o' your'n to the captain. If any one o' us had made it, youngster, he would have had no whistle to wet by this time." "Stop your clapper, Jack," vociferated a third. "Give the boy a junk o' meat. Don't you see he's a'most going to kick the bucket?" "And no wonder," said the first speaker with an oath, "after the tumble you gave him into the boat. I guess it would have broke _your_ neck if you had got it." I did indeed feel somewhat faint, which was owing, doubtless, to the combined effects of ill-usage and hunger; for it will be recollected that I had dived out of the cave that morning before breakfast, and it was now near midday. I therefore gladly accepted a plate of boiled pork and a yam, which were handed to me by one of the men from the locker on which some of the crew were seated eating their dinner. But I must add that the zest with which I ate my meal was much abated in consequence of the frightful oaths and the terrible language that flowed from the lips of these godless men, even in the midst of their hilarity and good-humour. The man who had been alluded to as Bloody Bill was seated near me, and I could not help wondering at the moody silence he maintained among his comrades. He did indeed reply to their questions in a careless off-hand tone, but he never volunteered a remark. The only difference between him and the others was his taciturnity and his size, for he was nearly, if not quite, as large a man as the captain. During the remainder of the afternoon I was left to my own reflections, which were anything but agreeable; for I could not banish from my mind the threat about the thumb-screws, of the nature and use of which I had a vague but terrible conception. I was still meditating on my unhappy fate, when, just after nightfall, one of the watch on deck called down the hatchway-- "Hallo there! one o' you tumble up and light the cabin lamp, and send that boy aft to the captain--sharp!" "Now then, do you hear, youngster? the captain wants you. Look alive," said Bloody Bill, raising his huge frame from the locker on which he had been asleep for the last two hours. He sprang up the ladder, and I instantly followed him, and going aft was shown into the cabin by one of the men, who closed the door after me. A small silver lamp which hung from a beam threw a dim, soft light over the cabin, which was a small apartment, and comfortably but plainly furnished. Seated on a camp-stool at the table, and busily engaged in examining a chart of the Pacific, was the captain, who looked up as I entered, and in a quiet voice bade me be seated, while he threw down his pencil, and rising from the table, stretched himself on a sofa at the upper end of the cabin. "Boy," said he, looking me full in the face, "what is your name?" "Ralph Rover," I replied. "Where did you come from, and how came you to be on that island? How many companions had you on it? Answer me, now, and mind you tell no lies." "I never tell lies." said I firmly. The captain received this reply with a cold, sarcastic smile, and bade me answer his questions. I then told him the history of myself and my companions from the time we sailed till the day of his visit to the island, taking care, however, to make no mention of the Diamond Cave. After I had concluded, he was silent for a few minutes; then looking up, he said, "Boy, I believe you." I was surprised at this remark, for I could not imagine why he should not believe me. However, I made no reply. "And what," continued the captain, "makes you think that this schooner is a pirate?" "The black flag," said I, "showed me what you are; and if any further proof were wanting, I have had it in the brutal treatment I have received at your hands." The captain frowned as I spoke, but subduing his anger he continued, "Boy, you are too bold. I admit that we treated you roughly, but that was because you made us lose time and gave us a good deal of trouble. As to the black flag, that is merely a joke that my fellows play off upon people sometimes in order to frighten them. It is their humour, and does no harm. I am no pirate, boy, but a lawful trader--a rough one, I grant you, but one can't help that in these seas, where there are so many pirates on the water and such murderous blackguards on the land. I carry on a trade in sandal-wood with the Feejee Islands; and if you choose, Ralph, to behave yourself and be a good boy, I'll take you along with me and give you a good share of the profits. You see I'm in want of an honest boy like you to look after the cabin and keep the log and superintend the traffic on shore sometimes. What say you, Ralph: would you like to become a sandal-wood trader?" I was much surprised by this explanation, and a good deal relieved to find that the vessel, after all, was not a pirate; but, instead of replying, I said, "If it be as you state, then why did you take me from my island, and why do you not now take me back?" The captain smiled as he replied, "I took you off in anger, boy, and I'm sorry for it. I would even now take you back, but we are too far away from it. See, there it is," he added, laying his finger on the chart, "and we are now here--fifty miles at least. It would not be fair to my men to put about now, for they have all an interest in the trade." I could make no reply to this; so, after a little more conversation, I agreed to become one of the crew--at least, until we could reach some civilised island where I might be put ashore. The captain assented to this proposition, and after thanking him for the promise, I left the cabin and went on deck with feelings that ought to have been lighter, but which were, I could not tell why, marvellously heavy and uncomfortable still. Chapter XXIII Bloody Bill--Dark surmises--A strange sail, and a strange crew, and a still stranger cargo--New reasons for favouring missionaries--A murderous massacre, and thoughts thereon. Three weeks after the conversation narrated in the last chapter, I was standing on the quarter-deck of the schooner, watching the gambols of a shoal of porpoises that swam round us. It was a dead calm--one of those still, hot, sweltering days so common in the Pacific, when nature seems to have gone to sleep, and the only thing in water or in air that proves her still alive is her long, deep breathing in the swell of the mighty sea. No cloud floated in the deep blue above; no ripple broke the reflected blue below. The sun shone fiercely in the sky, and a ball of fire blazed with almost equal power from out the bosom of the water. So intensely still was it, and so perfectly transparent was the surface of the deep, that had it not been for the long swell already alluded to, we might have believed the surrounding universe to be a huge, blue, liquid ball, and our little ship the one solitary material speck in all creation, floating in the midst of it. No sound broke on our ears save the soft puff now and then of a porpoise, the slow creak of the masts as we swayed gently on the swell, the patter of the reef-points, and the occasional flap of the hanging sails. An awning covered the fore and after parts of the schooner, under which the men composing the watch on deck lolled in sleepy indolence, overcome with excessive heat. Bloody Bill, as the men invariably called him, was standing at the tiller; but his post for the present was a sinecure, and he whiled away the time by alternately gazing in dreamy abstraction at the compass in the binnacle, and by walking to the taffrail in order to spit into the sea. In one of these turns he came near to where I was standing, and, leaning over the side, looked long and earnestly down into the blue wave. This man, although he was always taciturn and often surly, was the only human being on board with whom I had the slightest desire to become better acquainted. The other men, seeing that I did not relish their company, and knowing that I was a protégé of the captain, treated me with total indifference. Bloody Bill, it is true, did the same; but as this was his conduct to every one else, it was not peculiar in reference to me. Once or twice I tried to draw him into conversation, but he always turned away after a few cold monosyllables. As he now leaned over the taffrail close beside me, I said to him-- "Bill, why is it that you are so gloomy? Why do you never speak to any one?" Bill smiled slightly as he replied, "Why, I s'pose it's because I hain't got nothin' to say!" "That's strange," said I musingly; "you look like a man that could think, and such men can usually speak." "So they can, youngster," rejoined Bill somewhat sternly; "and I could speak, too, if I had a mind to, but what's the use o' speakin' here? The men only open their mouths to curse and swear, an' they seem to find it entertainin'; but I don't, so I hold my tongue." "Well, Bill, that's true, and I would rather not hear you speak at all than hear you speak like the other men; but _I_ don't swear, Bill, so you might talk to me sometimes, I think. Besides, I'm weary of spending day after day in this way, without a single soul to say a pleasant word to. I've been used to friendly conversation, Bill, and I really would take it kind if you would talk with me a little now and then." Bill looked at me in surprise, and I thought I observed a sad expression pass across his sunburned face. "An' where have you been used to friendly conversation?" said Bill, looking down again into the sea; "not on that Coral Island, I take it." "Yes, indeed," said I energetically; "I have spent many of the happiest months in my life on that Coral Island." And without waiting to be further questioned, I launched out into a glowing account of the happy life that Jack and Peterkin and I had spent together, and related minutely every circumstance that befell us while on the island. "Boy, boy," said Bill, in a voice so deep that it startled me, "this is no place for you." "That's true," said I. "I am of little use on board, and I don't like my comrades; but I can't help it, and at any rate I hope to be free again soon." "Free?" said Bill, looking at me in surprise. "Yes, free," returned I; "the captain said he would put me ashore after this trip was over." "_This trip_! Hark'ee, boy," said Bill, lowering his voice, "what said the captain to you the day you came aboard?" "He said that he was a trader in sandal-wood, and no pirate, and told me that if I would join him for this trip he would give me a good share of the profits, or put me on shore in some civilised island if I chose." Bill's brows lowered savagely as he muttered, "Ay, he said truth when he told you he was a sandal-wood trader, but he lied when--" "Sail ho!" shouted the look-out at the masthead. "Where away?" cried Bill, springing to the tiller; while the men, startled by the sudden cry, jumped up and gazed round the horizon. "On the starboard quarter, hull down, sir," answered the look-out. At this moment the captain came on deck, and mounting into the rigging, surveyed the sail through the glass. Then sweeping his eye round the horizon, he gazed steadily at a particular point. "Take in top-sails," shouted the captain, swinging himself down on the deck by the main-back stay. "Take in top-sails," roared the first mate. "Ay, ay, sir--r--r," answered the men, as they sprang into the rigging and went aloft like cats. Instantly all was bustle on board the hitherto quiet schooner. The top-sails were taken in and stowed, the men stood by the sheets and halyards, and the captain gazed anxiously at the breeze which was now rushing towards us like a sheet of dark blue. In a few seconds it struck us. The schooner trembled as if in surprise at the sudden onset, while she fell away, then bending gracefully to the wind, as though in acknowledgment of her subjection, she cut through the waves with her sharp prow like a dolphin, while Bill directed her course towards the strange sail. In half-an-hour we neared her sufficiently to make out that she was a schooner, and from the clumsy appearance of her masts and sails we judged her to be a trader. She evidently did not like our appearance, for the instant the breeze reached her she crowded all sail and showed us her stern. As the breeze had moderated a little, our top-sails were again shaken out, and it soon became evident--despite the proverb, "A stern chase is a long one"--that we doubled her speed and would overhaul her speedily. When within a mile we hoisted British colours, but receiving no acknowledgment, the captain ordered a shot to be fired across her bows. In a moment, to my surprise, a large portion of the bottom of the boat amidships was removed, and in the hole thus exposed appeared an immense brass gun. It worked on a swivel, and was elevated by means of machinery. It was quickly loaded and fired. The heavy ball struck the water a few yards ahead of the chase, and ricochetting into the air, plunged into the sea a mile beyond it. This produced the desired effect. The strange vessel backed her top-sails and hove-to, while we ranged up and lay-to about a hundred yards off. "Lower the boat," cried the captain. In a second the boat was lowered and manned by a part of the crew, who were all armed with cutlasses and pistols. As the captain passed me to get into it, he said, "Jump into the stern-sheets, Ralph; I may want you." I obeyed, and in ten minutes more we were standing on the stranger's deck. We were all much surprised at the sight that met our eyes. Instead of a crew of such sailors as we were accustomed to see, there were only fifteen blacks, standing on the quarter-deck and regarding us with looks of undisguised alarm. They were totally unarmed, and most of them unclothed; one or two, however, wore portions of European attire. One had on a pair of duck trousers which were much too large for him, and stuck out in a most ungainly manner. Another wore nothing but the common scanty native garment round the loins, and a black beaver hat. But the most ludicrous personage of all, and one who seemed to be chief, was a tall, middle-aged man, of a mild, simple expression of countenance, who wore a white cotton shirt, a swallow-tailed coat, and a straw hat, while his black, brawny legs were totally uncovered below the knees. "Where's the commander of this ship?" inquired our captain, stepping up to this individual. "I is capin," he answered, taking off his straw hat and making a low bow. "You!" said our captain in surprise. "Where do you come from, and where are you bound? What cargo have you aboard?" "We is come," answered the man with the swallowtail, "from Aitutaki; we was go for Rarotonga. We is native miss'nary ship; our name is de _Olive Branch_; an' our cargo is two tons cocoa-nuts, seventy pigs, twenty cats, and de Gosp'l." This announcement was received by the crew of our vessel with a shout of laughter, which, however, was peremptorily checked by the captain, whose expression instantly changed from one of severity to that of frank urbanity as he advanced towards the missionary and shook him warmly by the hand. "I am very glad to have fallen in with you," said he, "and I wish you much success in your missionary labours. Pray take me to your cabin, as I wish to converse with you privately." The missionary immediately took him by the hand, and as he led him away I heard him saying, "Me most glad to find you trader; we t'ought you be pirate. You very like one 'bout the masts." What conversation the captain had with this man I never heard, but he came on deck again in a quarter of an hour, and shaking hands cordially with the missionary, ordered us into our boat and returned to the schooner, which was immediately put before the wind. In a few minutes the _Olive Branch_ was left far behind us. That afternoon, as I was down below at dinner, I heard the men talking about this curious ship. "I wonder," said one, "why our captain looked so sweet on yon swallow-tailed supercargo o' pigs and Gospels. If it had been an ordinary trader, now, he would have taken as many o' the pigs as he required and sent the ship with all on board to the bottom." "Why, Dick, you must be new to these seas if you don't know that," cried another. "The captain cares as much for the Gospel as you do (an' that's precious little), but he knows, and everybody knows, that the only place among the southern islands where a ship can put in and get what she wants in comfort is where the Gospel has been sent to. There are hundreds o' islands, at this blessed moment, where you might as well jump straight into a shark's maw as land without a band o' thirty comrades armed to the teeth to back you." "Ay," said a man with a deep scar over his right eye, "Dick's new to the work. But if the captain takes us for a cargo o' sandal-wood to the Feejees, he'll get a taste o' these black gentry in their native condition. For my part, I don't know and I don't care what the Gospel does to them, but I know that when any o' the islands chance to get it, trade goes all smooth and easy; but where they ha'nt got it, Beelzebub himself could hardly desire better company." "Well, you ought to be a good judge," cried another, laughing, "for you've never kept any company but the worst all your life!" "Ralph Rover!" shouted a voice down the hatchway, "captain wants you, aft." Springing up the ladder, I hastened to the cabin, pondering as I went the strange testimony borne by these men to the effect of the Gospel on savage natures--testimony which, as it was perfectly disinterested, I had no doubt whatever was strictly true. On coming again on deck, I found Bloody Bill at the helm, and as we were alone together, I tried to draw him into conversation. After repeating to him the conversation in the forecastle about the missionaries, I said-- "Tell me, Bill, is this schooner really a trader in sandal-wood?" "Yes, Ralph, she is; but she's just as really a pirate. The black flag you saw flying at the peak was no deception." "Then how can you say she's a trader?" asked I. "Why, as to that, she trades when she can't take by force; but she takes by force when she can, in preference. Ralph," he added, lowering his voice, "if you had seen the bloody deeds that I have witnessed done on these decks, you would not need to ask if we were pirates. But you'll find it out soon enough. As for the missionaries, the captain favours them because they are useful to him. The South Sea Islanders are such incarnate fiends that they are the better of being tamed, and the missionaries are the only men who can do it." Our track after this lay through several clusters of small islets, among which we were becalmed more than once. During this part of our voyage the watch on deck and the look-out at the masthead were more than usually vigilant, as we were not only in danger of being attacked by the natives (who, I learned from the captain's remarks, were a bloody and deceitful tribe at this group), but we were also exposed to much risk from the multitudes of coral reefs that rose up in the channels between the islands, some of them just above the surface, others a few feet below it. Our precautions against the savages, I found, were indeed necessary. One day we were becalmed among a group of small islands, most of which appeared to be uninhabited. As we were in want of fresh water, the captain sent the boat ashore to bring off a cask or two. But we were mistaken in thinking there were no natives; for scarcely had we drawn near to the shore when a band of naked blacks rushed out of the bush and assembled on the beach, brandishing their clubs and spears in a threatening manner. Our men were well armed, but refrained from showing any signs of hostility, and rowed nearer in order to converse with the natives; and I now found that more than one of the crew could imperfectly speak dialects of the language peculiar to the South Sea Islanders. When within forty yards of the shore, we ceased rowing, and the first mate stood up to address the multitude; but instead of answering us, they replied with a shower of stones, some of which cut the men severely. Instantly our muskets were levelled, and a volley was about to be fired, when the captain hailed us in a loud voice from the schooner, which lay not more than five or six hundred yards off the shore. "Don't fire!" he shouted angrily. "Pull off to the point ahead of you." The men looked surprised at this order, and uttered deep curses as they prepared to obey, for their wrath was roused and they burned for revenge. Three or four of them hesitated, and seemed disposed to mutiny. "Don't distress yourselves, lads," said the mate, while a bitter smile curled his lip. "Obey orders. The captain's not the man to take an insult tamely. If Long Tom does not speak presently I'll give myself to the sharks." The men smiled significantly as they pulled from the shore, which was now crowded with a dense mass of savages, amounting probably to five or six hundred. We had not rowed off above a couple of hundred yards when a loud roar thundered over the sea, and the big brass gun sent a withering shower of grape point-blank into the midst of the living mass, through which a wide lane was cut, while a yell, the like of which I could not have imagined, burst from the miserable survivors as they fled to the woods. Amongst the heaps of dead that lay on the sand just where they had fallen, I could distinguish mutilated forms writhing in agony, while ever and anon one and another rose convulsively from out the mass, endeavoured to stagger towards the wood, and ere they had taken a few steps, fell and wallowed on the bloody sand. My blood curdled within me as I witnessed this frightful and wanton slaughter; but I had little time to think, for the captain's deep voice came again over the water towards us: "Pull ashore, lads, and fill your water-casks." The men obeyed in silence, and it seemed to me as if even their hard hearts were shocked by the ruthless deed. On gaining the mouth of the rivulet at which we intended to take in water, we found it flowing with blood, for the greater part of those who were slain had been standing on the banks of the stream, a short way above its mouth. Many of the wretched creatures had fallen into it, and we found one body, which had been carried down, jammed between two rocks, with the staring eyeballs turned towards us, and his black hair waving in the ripples of the blood-red stream. No one dared to oppose our landing now, so we carried our casks to a pool above the murdered group, and having filled them, returned on board. Fortunately, a breeze sprang up soon afterwards, and carried us away from the dreadful spot; but it could not waft me away from the memory of what I had seen. "And this," thought I, gazing in horror at the captain, who, with a quiet look of indifference, leaned upon the taffrail smoking a cigar and contemplating the fertile green islets as they passed like a lovely picture before our eyes--"this is the man who favours the missionaries because they are useful to him and can tame the savages better than any one else can do it!" Then I wondered in my mind whether it were possible for any missionary to tame _him_! Chapter XXIV Bloody Bill is communicative and sagacious--Unpleasant prospects--Retrospective meditations interrupted by volcanic agency--The pirates negotiate with a Feejee chief--Various etceteras that are calculated to surprise and horrify. It was many days after the events just narrated ere I recovered a little of my wonted spirits. I could not shake off the feeling for a long time that I was in a frightful dream, and the sight of our captain filled me with so much horror that I kept out of his way as much as my duties about the cabin would permit. Fortunately he took so little notice of me that he did not observe my changed feelings towards him, otherwise it might have been worse for me. But I was now resolved that I would run away the very first island we should land at, and commit myself to the hospitality of the natives rather than remain an hour longer than I could help in the pirate schooner. I pondered this subject a good deal, and at last made up my mind to communicate my intention to Bloody Bill; for during several talks I had had with him of late, I felt assured that he too would willingly escape if possible. When I told him of my design he shook his head. "No, no, Ralph," said he, "you must not think of running away here. Among some of the groups of islands you might do so with safety, but if you tried it here you would find that you had jumped out of the fryin'-pan into the fire." "How so, Bill?" said I; "would the natives not receive me?" "That they would, lad; but they would eat you too." "Eat me!" said I in surprise; "I thought the South Sea Islanders never ate anybody except their enemies." "Humph!" ejaculated Bill. "I s'pose 'twas yer tender-hearted friends in England that put that notion into your head. There's a set o' soft-hearted folk at home that I knows on who don't like to have their feelin's ruffled, and when you tell them anything they don't like--that shocks them, as they call it--no matter how true it be, they stop their ears and cry out, 'Oh, that is _too_ horrible! We can't believe that!' An' they say truth. They can't believe it 'cause they won't believe it. Now, I believe there's thousands o' the people in England who are sich born drivellin' _won't-believers_ that they think the black fellows hereaways at the worst eat an enemy only now an' then, out o' spite; whereas I know for certain, and many captains of the British and American navies know as well as me, that the Feejee Islanders eat not only their enemies but one another; and they do it not for spite, but for pleasure. It's _fact_ that they prefer human flesh to any other. But they don't like white men's flesh so well as black; they say it makes them sick." "Why, Bill," said I, "you told me just now that they would eat me if they caught me." "So I did, and so I think they would. I've only heard some o' them say they don't like white men _so well_ as black; but if they was hungry they wouldn't be particular. Anyhow, I'm sure they would kill you. You see, Ralph, I've been a good while in them parts, and I've visited the different groups of islands oftentimes as a trader. And thorough-goin' blackguards some o' them traders are; no better than pirates, I can tell you. One captain that I sailed with was not a chip better than the one we're with now. He was trading with a friendly chief one day, aboard his vessel. The chief had swum off to us with the thing for trade tied atop of his head, for them chaps are like otters in the water. Well, the chief was hard on the captain, and would not part with some o' his things. When their bargainin' was over they shook hands, and the chief jumped overboard to swim ashore; but before he got forty yards from the ship the captain seized a musket and shot him dead. He then hove up anchor and put to sea, and as we sailed along the shore, he dropped six black fellows with his rifle, remarkin' that 'that would spoil the trade for the next comers.' But, as I was sayin', I'm up to the ways o' these fellows. One o' the laws o' the country is, that every shipwrecked person who happens to be cast ashore, be he dead or alive, is doomed to be roasted and eaten. There was a small tradin' schooner wrecked off one of these islands when we were lyin' there in harbour during a storm. The crew was lost, all but three men, who swam ashore. The moment they landed they were seized by the natives and carried up into the woods. We knew pretty well what their fate would be, but we could not help them, for our crew was small, and if we had gone ashore they would likely have killed us all. We never saw the three men again; but we heard frightful yelling and dancing and merrymaking that night; and one of the natives, who came aboard to trade with us next day, told us that the _long pigs_, as he called the men, had been roasted and eaten, and their bones were to be converted into sail-needles. He also said that white men were bad to eat, and that most o' the people on shore were sick." I was very much shocked and cast down in my mind at this terrible account of the natives, and asked Bill what he would advise me to do. Looking round the deck to make sure that we were not overheard, he lowered his voice and said, "There are two or three ways that we might escape, Ralph, but none o' them's easy. If the captain would only sail for some o' the islands near Tahiti, we might run away there well enough, because the natives are all Christians; an' we find that wherever the savages take up with Christianity they always give over their bloody ways, and are safe to be trusted. I never cared for Christianity myself," he continued in a soliloquising voice, "and I don't well know what it means; but a man with half an eye can see what it does for these black critters. However, the captain always keeps a sharp lookout after us when we get to these islands, for he half suspects that one or two o' us are tired of his company. Then we might manage to cut the boat adrift some fine night when it's our watch on deck, and clear off before they discovered that we were gone.' But we would run the risk o' bein' caught by the blacks, I wouldn't like to try that plan. But you and I will think over it, Ralph, and see what's to be done. In the meantime it's our watch below, so I'll go and turn in." Bill then bade me good-night, and went below, while a comrade took his place at the helm; but feeling no desire to enter into conversation with him, I walked aft, and leaning over the stern, looked down into the phosphorescent waves that gurgled around the rudder, and streamed out like a flame of blue light in the vessel's wake. My thoughts were very sad, and I could scarce refrain from tears as I contrasted my present wretched position with the happy, peaceful time I had spent on the Coral Island with my dear companions. As I thought upon Jack and Peterkin, anxious forebodings crossed my mind, and I pictured to myself the grief and dismay with which they would search every nook and corner of the island, in a vain attempt to discover my dead body; for I felt assured that if they did not see any sign of the pirate schooner or boat when they came out of the cave to look for me, they would never imagine that I had been carried away. I wondered, too, how Jack would succeed in getting Peterkin out of the cave without my assistance; and I trembled when I thought that he might lose presence of mind, and begin to kick when he was in the tunnel! These thoughts were suddenly interrupted and put to flight by a bright red blaze which lighted up the horizon to the southward and cast a crimson glow far over the sea. This appearance was accompanied by a low growling sound, as of distant thunder, and at the same time the sky above us became black, while a hot, stifling wind blew around us in fitful gusts. The crew assembled hastily on deck, and most of them were under the belief that a frightful hurricane was pending; but the captain, coming on deck, soon explained the phenomena. "It's only a volcano," said he. "I knew there was one hereabouts, but thought it was extinct. Up there and furl top-gallant sails; we'll likely have a breeze, and it's well to be ready." As he spoke a shower began to fall, which we quickly observed was not rain but fine ashes. As we were many miles distant from the volcano, these must have been carried to us from it by the wind. As the captain had predicted, a stiff breeze soon afterwards sprang up, under the influence of which we speedily left the volcano far behind us; but during the greater part of the night we could see its lurid glare and hear its distant thunder. The shower did not cease to fall for several hours, and we must have sailed under it for nearly forty miles, perhaps farther. When we emerged from the cloud, our decks and every part of the rigging were completely covered with a thick coat of ashes. I was much interested in this, and recollected that Jack had often spoken of many of the islands of the Pacific as being volcanoes, either active or extinct, and had said that the whole region was more or less volcanic, and that some scientific men were of opinion that the islands of the Pacific were nothing more or less than the mountain tops of a huge continent which had sunk under the influence of volcanic agency. Three days after passing the volcano, we found ourselves a few miles to windward of an island of considerable size and luxuriant aspect. It consisted of two mountains, which seemed to be nearly four thousand feet high. They were separated from each other by a broad valley, whose thick-growing trees ascended a considerable distance up the mountain sides; and rich, level plains, or meadow-land, spread round the base of the mountains, except at the point immediately opposite the large valley, where a river seemed to carry the trees, as it were, along with it down to the white, sandy shore. The mountain tops, unlike those of our Coral Island, were sharp, needle-shaped, and bare, while their sides were more rugged and grand in outline than anything I had yet seen in those seas. Bloody Bill was beside me when the island first hove in sight. "Ha!" he exclaimed, "I know that island well. They call it Emo." "Have you been there before, then?" I inquired. "Ay, that I have, often, and so has this schooner. 'Tis a famous island for sandal-wood. We have taken many cargoes of it already, and have paid for them, too; for the savages are so numerous that we dared not try to take it by force. But our captain has tried to cheat them so often, that they're beginnin' not to like us overmuch now. Besides, the men behaved ill the last time we were here, and I wonder the captain is not afraid to venture. But he's afraid o' nothing earthly, I believe." We soon ran inside the barrier coral-reef, and let go our anchor in six fathoms water, just opposite the mouth of a small creek, whose shores were densely covered with mangroves and tall umbrageous trees. The principal village of the natives lay about half a mile from this point. Ordering the boat out, the captain jumped into it, and ordered me to follow him. The men, fifteen in number, were well armed, and the mate was directed to have Long Tom ready for emergencies. "Give way, lads," cried the captain. The oars fell into the water at the word, the boat shot from the schooner's side, and in a few minutes reached the shore. Here, contrary to our expectation, we were met with the utmost cordiality by Romata, the principal chief of the island, who conducted us to his house and gave us mats to sit upon. I observed in passing that the natives, of whom there were two or three thousand, were totally unarmed. After a short preliminary palaver, a feast of baked pigs and various roots was spread before us; of which we partook sparingly, and then proceeded to business. The captain stated his object in visiting the island, regretted that there had been a slight misunderstanding during the last visit, and hoped that no ill-will was borne by either party, and that a satisfactory trade would be accomplished. Romata answered that he had forgotten there had been any differences between them, protested that he was delighted to see his friends again, and assured them they should have every assistance in cutting and embarking the wood. The terms were afterwards agreed on, and we rose to depart. All this conversation was afterwards explained to me by Bill, who understood the language pretty well. Romata accompanied us on board, and explained that a great chief from another island was then on a visit to him, and that he was to be ceremoniously entertained on the following day. After begging to be allowed to introduce him to us, and receiving permission, he sent his canoe ashore to bring him off. At the same time, he gave orders to bring on board his two favourites, a cock and a paroquet. While the canoe was gone on this errand, I had time to regard the savage chief attentively. He was a man of immense size, with massive but beautifully moulded limbs and figure, only parts of which, the broad chest, and muscular arms, were uncovered; for although the lower orders generally wore no other clothing than a strip of cloth called _maro_ round their loins, the chief, on particular occasions, wrapped his person hi voluminous folds of a species of native cloth, made from the bark of the Chinese paper-mulberry. Romata wore a magnificent black beard and moustache, and his hair was frizzed out to such an extent that it resembled a large turban, in which was stuck a long wooden pin! I afterwards found that this pin served for scratching the head, for which purpose the fingers were too short without disarranging the hair. But Romata put himself to much greater inconvenience on account of his hair, for we found that he slept with his head resting on a wooden pillow, in which was cut a hollow for the neck, so that the hair of the sleeper might not be disarranged. In ten minutes the canoe returned, bringing the other chief, who certainly presented a most extraordinary appearance, having painted one half of his face red and the other half yellow, besides ornamenting it with various designs in black! Otherwise he was much the same in appearance as Romata, though not so powerfully built. As this chief had never seen a ship before, except, perchance, some of the petty traders that at long intervals visit these remote islands, he was much taken up with the neatness and beauty of all the fittings of the schooner. He was particularly struck with a musket which was shown to him, and asked where the white men got hatchets hard enough to cut the tree of which the barrel was made! While he was thus engaged, his brother chief stood aloof, talking with the captain, and fondling a superb cock and a little blue-headed paroquet, the favourites of which I have before spoken. I observed that all the other natives walked in a crouching posture while in the presence of Romata. Before our guests left us, the captain ordered the brass gun to be uncovered and fired for their gratification; and I have every reason to believe he did so for the purpose of showing our superior power, in case the natives should harbour any evil designs against us. Romata had never seen this gun before, as it had not been uncovered on previous visits, and the astonishment with which he viewed it was very amusing. Being desirous of knowing its power, he begged that the captain would fire it; so a shot was put into it. The chiefs were then directed to look at a rock about two miles out at sea, and the gun was fired. In a second the top of the rock was seen to burst asunder, and to fall in fragments into the sea. Romata was so delighted with the success of this shot that he pointed to a man who was walking on the shore and begged the captain to fire at him, evidently supposing that his permission was quite sufficient to justify the captain in such an act. He was therefore surprised, and not a little annoyed, when the captain refused to fire at the native, and ordered the gun to be housed. Of all the things, however, that afforded matter of amusement to these savages, that which pleased Romata's visitor most was the ship's pump. He never tired of examining it and pumping up the water. Indeed, so much was he taken up with this pump, that he could not be prevailed on to return on shore, but sent a canoe to fetch his favourite stool, on which he seated himself, and spent the remainder of the day in pumping the bilge-water out of the ship! Next day the crew went ashore to cut sandal-wood, while the captain, with one or two men, remained on board, in order to be ready, if need be, with the brass gun, which was unhoused and conspicuously elevated, with its capacious muzzle directed point-blank at the chiefs house. The men were fully armed, as usual; and the captain ordered me to go with them, to assist in the work. I was much pleased with this order, for it freed me from the captain's company, which I could not now endure, and it gave me an opportunity of seeing the natives. As we wound along in single file through the rich, fragrant groves of banana, cocoa-nut, bread-fruit, and other trees, I observed that there were many of the plum and banyan trees, with which I had become familiar on the Coral Island. I noticed also large quantities of taro-roots, yams, and sweet potatoes growing in enclosures. On turning into an open glade of the woods, we came abruptly upon a cluster of native houses. They were built chiefly of bamboos, and were thatched with the large, thick leaves of the pandanus; but many of them had little more than a sloping roof and three sides with an open front, being the most simple shelter from the weather that could well be imagined. Within these and around them were groups of natives--men, women, and children--who all stood up to gaze at us as we marched along, followed by the party of men whom the chief had sent to escort us. About half a mile inland we arrived at the spot where the sandal-wood grew, and while the men set to work I clambered up an adjoining hill to observe the country. About mid-day the chief arrived with several followers, one of whom carried a baked pig on a wooden platter, with yams and potatoes on several plantain leaves, which he presented to the men, who sat down under the shade of a tree to dine. The chief sat down to dine also; but, to my surprise, instead of feeding himself, one of his wives performed that office for him! I was seated beside Bill, and asked him the reason of this. "It is beneath his dignity, I believe, to feed himself," answered Bill; "but I daresay he's not particular, except on great occasions. They've a strange custom among them, Ralph, which is called _tabu_, and they carry it to great lengths. If a man chooses a particular tree for his god, the fruit o' that tree is tabued to him; and if he eats it, he is sure to be killed by his people, and eaten, of course, for killing means eating hereaway. Then, you see that great mop o' hair on the chief's head? Well, he has a lot o' barbers to keep it in order; and it's a law that whoever touches the head of a living chief or the body of a dead one, his hands are tabued; so in that way the barbers' hands are always tabued, and they daren't use them for their lives, but have to be fed like big babies, as they are, sure enough!" "That's odd, Bill. But look there," said I, pointing to a man whose skin was of a much lighter colour than the generality of the natives. "I've seen a few of these light-skinned fellows among the Feejeeans. They seem to me to be of quite a different race." "So they are," answered Bill. "These fellows come from the Tongan Islands, which lie a long way to the eastward. They come here to build their big war-canoes; and, as these take two and sometimes four years to build, there's always some o' the brown-skins among the black sarpents o' these islands." "By the way, Bill," said I, "your mentioning serpents reminds me that I have not seen a reptile of any kind since I came to this part of the world." "No more there are any," said Bill, "if ye except the niggers themselves; there's none on the islands but a lizard or two, and some sich harmless things. But I never seed any myself. If there's none on the land, however, there's more than enough in the water, and that reminds me of a wonderful brute they have here. But come, I'll show it to you." So saying, Bill arose, and, leaving the men still busy with the baked pig, led me into the forest. After proceeding a short distance, we came upon a small pond of stagnant water. A native lad had followed us, to whom we called and beckoned him to come to us. On Bill saying a few words to him which I did not understand, the boy advanced to the edge of the pond and gave a low, peculiar whistle. Immediately the water became agitated, and an enormous eel thrust its head above the surface and allowed the youth to touch it. It was about twelve feet long, and as thick round the body as a man's thigh. "There!" said Bill, his lip curling with contempt; "what do you think of that for a god, Ralph? This is one o' their gods, and it has been fed with dozens o' livin' babies already. How many more it'll get afore it dies is hard to say." "Babies!" said I, with an incredulous look. "Ay, babies," returned Bill. "Your soft-hearted folk at home would say, 'Oh, horrible! impossible!' to that, and then go away as comfortable and unconcerned as if their sayin' 'Horrible! impossible!' had made it a lie. But I tell you, Ralph, it's a _fact_. I've seed it with my own eyes the last time I was here, an' mayhap if you stop a while at this accursed place, and keep a sharp look-out, you'll see it too. They don't feed it regularly with livin' babies, but they give it one now and then as a treat. Bah, you brute!" cried Bill in disgust, giving the reptile a kick on the snout with his heavy boot that sent it sweltering back in agony into its loathsome pool. I thought it lucky for Bill, indeed for all of us, that the native youth's back happened to be turned at the time; for I am certain that if the poor savages had come to know that we had so rudely handled their god, we should have had to fight our way back to the ship. As we retraced our steps I questioned my companion further on this subject. "How comes it, Bill, that the mothers allow such a dreadful thing to be done?" "Allow it? the mothers _do_ it! It seems to me that there's nothing too fiendish or diabolical for these people to do. Why, in some of the islands they have an institution called the _Aréoi_, and the persons connected with that body are ready for any wickedness that mortal man can devise. In fact they stick at nothing; and one o' their customs is to murder their infants the moment they are born. The mothers agree to it, and the fathers do it. And the mildest ways they have of murdering them is by sticking them through the body with sharp splinters of bamboo, strangling them with their thumbs, or burying them alive and stamping them to death while under the sod." I felt sick at heart while my companion recited these horrors. "But it's a curious fact," he continued after a pause, during which we walked in silence towards the spot where we had left our comrades--"it's a curious fact, that wherever the missionaries get a footin' all these things come to an end at once, an' the savages take to doin' each other good and singin' psalms, just like Methodists." "God bless the missionaries!" said I, while a feeling of enthusiasm filled my heart, so that I could speak with difficulty. "God bless and prosper the missionaries till they get a footing in every island of the sea!" "I would say Amen to that prayer, Ralph, if I could," said Bill, in a deep, sad voice; "but it would be a mere mockery for a man to ask a blessing for others who dare not ask one for himself. But, Ralph," he continued, "I've not told you half o' the abominations I have seen durin' my life in these seas. If we pull long together, lad, I'll tell you more; and if times have not changed very much since I was here last, it's like that you'll have a chance o' seeing a little for yourself before long." Chapter XXV The sandal-wood party--Native children's games somewhat surprising--Desperate amusements suddenly and fatally brought to a close--An old friend recognised--News--Romata's mad conduct. Next day the wood-cutting party went ashore again, and I accompanied them as before. During the dinner-hour I wandered into the woods alone, being disinclined for food that day. I had not rambled far when I found myself unexpectedly on the sea-shore, having crossed a narrow neck of land which separated the native village from a large bay. Here I found a party of the islanders busy with one of their war-canoes, which was almost ready for launching. I stood for a long time watching this party with great interest, and observed that they fastened the timbers and planks to each other very much in the same way in which I had seen Jack fasten those of our little boat. But what surprised me most was its immense length, which I measured carefully, and found to be a hundred feet long; and it was so capacious that it could have held three hundred men. It had the unwieldy outrigger and enormously high stern-posts which I had remarked on the canoe that came to us while I was on the Coral Island. Observing some boys playing at games a short way along the beach, I resolved to go and watch them; but as I turned from the natives who were engaged so busily and cheerfully at their work, I little thought of the terrible event that hung on the completion of that war-canoe. Advancing towards the children, who were so numerous that I began to think this must be the general playground of the village, I sat down on a grassy bank under the shade of a plantain tree to watch them. And a happier or more noisy crew I have never seen. There were at least two hundred of them, both boys and girls, all of whom were clad in no other garments than their own glossy little black skins, except the maro, or strip of cloth round the loins of the boys, and a very short petticoat or kilt on the girls. They did not all play at the same game, but amused themselves in different groups. One band was busily engaged in a game exactly similar to our blind man's buff. Another set were walking on stilts, which raised the children three feet from the ground. They were very expert at this amusement, and seldom tumbled. In another place I observed a group of girls standing together, and apparently enjoying themselves very much; so I went up to see what they were doing, and found that they were opening their eyelids with their fingers till their eyes appeared of an enormous size, and then thrusting pieces of straw between the upper and lower lids, across the eyeball, to keep them in that position! This seemed to me, I must confess, a very foolish as well as dangerous amusement. Nevertheless the children seemed to be greatly delighted with the hideous faces they made. I pondered this subject a good deal, and thought that if little children knew how silly they seemed to grown-up people when they make faces, they would not be so fond of doing it. In another place were a number of boys engaged in flying kites, and I could not help wondering that some of the games of those little savages should be so like to our own, although they had never seen us at play. But the kites were different from ours in many respects, being of every variety of shape. They were made of very thin cloth, and the boys raised them to a wonderful height in the air by means of twine made from the cocoa-nut husk. Other games there were, some of which showed the natural depravity of the hearts of these poor savages, and made me wish fervently that missionaries might be sent out to them. But the amusement which the greatest number of the children of both sexes seemed to take chief delight in was swimming and diving in the sea, and the expertness which they exhibited was truly amazing. They seemed to have two principal games in the water, one of which was to dive off a sort of stage which had been erected near a deep part of the sea, and chase each other in the water. Some of them went down to an extraordinary depth; others skimmed along the surface, or rolled over and over like porpoises, or diving under each other, came up unexpectedly and pulled each other down by a leg or an arm. They never seemed to tire of this sport, and from the great heat of the water in the South Seas, they could remain in it nearly all day without feeling chilled. Many of these children were almost infants, scarce able to walk; yet they staggered down the beach, flung their round, fat little black bodies fearlessly into deep water, and struck out to sea with as much confidence as ducklings. The other game to which I have referred was swimming in the surf. But as this is an amusement in which all engage, from children of ten to grey-headed men of sixty, and as I had an opportunity of witnessing it in perfection the day following, I shall describe it more minutely. I suppose it was in honour of their guest that this grand swimming-match was got up, for Romata came and told the captain that they were going to engage in it, and begged him to "come and see." "What sort of amusement is this surf-swimming?" I inquired of Bill, as we walked together to a part of the shore on which several thousands of the natives were assembled. "It's a very favourite lark with these 'xtr'or'nary critters," replied Bill, giving a turn to the quid of tobacco that invariably bulged out of his left cheek. "Ye see, Ralph, them fellows take to the water as soon a'most as they can walk, an' long before they can do that anything respectably, so that they are as much at home in the sea as on the land. Well, ye see, I s'pose they found swimmin' for miles out to sea, and divin' fathoms deep, wasn't exciting enough, so they invented this game o' swimmin' on the surf. Each man and boy, as you see, has got a short board or plank, with which he swims out for a mile or more to sea, and then, gettin' on the top o' yon thunderin' breaker, they come to shore on the top of it, yellin' and screechin' like fiends. It's a marvel to me that they're not dashed to shivers on the coral reef, for sure an' sartin' am I that if any o' us tried it, we wouldn't be worth the fluke of a broken anchor after the wave fell. But there they go!" As he spoke, several hundreds of the natives, amongst whom we were now standing, uttered a loud yell, rushed down the beach, plunged into the surf, and were carried off by the seething foam of the retreating wave. At the point where we stood, the encircling coral reef joined the shore, so that the magnificent breakers, which a recent stiff breeze had rendered larger than usual, fell in thunder at the feet of the multitudes who lined the beach. For some time the swimmers continued to strike out to sea, breasting over the swell like hundreds of black seals. Then they all turned, and watching an approaching billow, mounted its white crest, and each laying his breast on the short, flat board, came rolling towards the shore, careering on the summit of the mighty wave, while they and the onlookers shouted and yelled with excitement. Just as the monster wave curled in solemn majesty to fling its bulky length upon the beach, most of the swimmers slid back into the trough behind; others, slipping off their boards, seized them in their hands, and plunging through the watery waste, swam out to repeat the amusement; but a few, who seemed to me the most reckless, continued their career until they were launched upon the beach, and enveloped in the churning foam and spray. One of these last came in on the crest of the wave most manfully, and landed with a violent bound almost on the spot where Bill and I stood. I saw by his peculiar head-dress that he was the chief whom the tribe entertained as their guest. The sea-water had removed nearly all the paint with which his face had been covered, and as he rose panting to his feet, I recognised, to my surprise, the features of Tararo, my old friend of the Coral Island! Tararo at the same moment recognised me, and advancing quickly, took me round the neck and rubbed noses; which had the effect of transferring a good deal of the moist paint from his nose to mine. Then, recollecting that this was not the white man's mode of salutation, he grasped me by the hand and shook it violently. "Hallo, Ralph!" cried Bill in surprise, "that chap seems to have taken a sudden fancy to you, or he must be an old acquaintance." "Right, Bill," I replied; "he is indeed an old acquaintance;" and I explained in a few words that he was the chief whose party Jack and Peterkin and I had helped to save. Tararo haying thrown away his surf-board, entered into an animated conversation with Bill, pointing frequently during the course of it to me; whereby I concluded he must be telling him about the memorable battle and the part we had taken in it. When he paused, I begged of Bill to ask him about the woman Avatea, for I had some hope that she might have come with Tararo on this visit. "And ask him," said I, "who she is, for I am persuaded she is of a different race from the Feejeeans." On the mention of her name the chief frowned darkly, and seemed to speak with much anger. "You're right, Ralph," said Bill, when the chief had ceased to talk; "she's not a Feejee girl, but a Samoan. How she ever came to this place the chief does not very clearly explain, but he says she was taken in war, and that he got her three years ago, an' kept her as his daughter ever since. Lucky for her, poor girl, else she'd have been roasted and eaten like the rest." "But why does Tararo frown and look so angry?" said I. "Because the girl's somewhat obstinate, like most o' the sex, an' won't marry the man he wants her to. It seems that a chief of some other island came on a visit to Tararo and took a fancy to her, but she wouldn't have him on no account, bein' already in love, and engaged to a young chief whom Tararo hates, and she kicked up a desperate shindy; so, as he was going on a war-expedition in his canoe, he left her to think about it, sayin' he'd be back in six months or so, when he hoped she wouldn't be so obstropolous. This happened just a week ago; an' Tararo says that if she's not ready to go when the chief returns, as his bride, she'll be sent to him as a _long pig_." "As a long pig!" I exclaimed in surprise; "why, what does he mean by that?" "He means somethin' very unpleasant," answered Bill with a frown. "You see these blackguards eat men an' women just as readily as they eat pigs; and as baked pigs and baked men are very like each other in appearance, they call men _long_ pigs. If Avatea goes to this fellow as a long pig, it's all up with her, poor thing." "Is she on the island now?" I asked eagerly. "No; she's at Tararo's island." "And where does it lie!" "About fifty or sixty miles to the south'ard o' this," returned Bill; "but I--" At this moment we were startled by the cry of "Mao! mao!--a shark! a shark!" which was immediately followed by a shriek that rang clear and fearfully loud above the tumult of cries that arose from the savages in the water and on the land. We turned hastily towards the direction whence the cry came, and had just time to observe the glaring eyeballs of one of the swimmers as he tossed his arms in the air. Next instant he was pulled under the waves. A canoe was instantly launched, and the hand of the drowning man was caught, but only half of his body was dragged from the maw of the monster, which followed the canoe until the water became so shallow that it could scarcely swim. The crest of the next billow was tinged with red as it rolled towards the shore. In most countries of the world this would have made a deep impression on the spectators, but the only effect it had upon these islanders was to make them hurry with all speed out of the sea, lest a similar fate should befall some of the others; but so utterly reckless were they of human life, that it did not for a moment suspend the progress of their amusements. It is true the surf-swimming ended for that time somewhat abruptly, but they immediately proceeded with other games. Bill told me that sharks do not often attack the surf-swimmers, being frightened away by the immense numbers of men and boys in the water, and by the shouting and splashing that they make. "But," said he, "such a thing as you have seen just now don't frighten them much. They'll be at it again to-morrow or next day, just as if there wasn't a single shark between Feejee and Nova Zembla." After this the natives had a series of wrestling and boxing matches; and being men of immense size and muscle, they did a good deal of injury to each other, especially in boxing, in which not only the lower orders but several of the chiefs and priests engaged. Each bout was very quickly terminated, for they did not pretend to a scientific knowledge of the art, and wasted no time in sparring, but hit straight out at each other's heads, and their blows were delivered with great force. Frequently one of the combatants was knocked down with a single blow; and one gigantic fellow hit his adversary so severely that he drove the skin entirely off his forehead. This feat was hailed with immense applause by the spectators. During these exhibitions, which were very painful to me, though I confess I could not refrain from beholding them, I was struck with the beauty of many of the figures and designs that were tattooed on the persons of the chiefs and principal men. One figure, that seemed to me very elegant, was that of a palm tree tattooed on the back of a man's leg, the roots rising, as it were, from under his heel, the stem ascending the tendon of the ankle, and the graceful head branching out upon the calf. I afterwards learned that this process of tattooing is very painful, and takes long to do, commencing at the age of ten, and being continued at intervals up to the age of thirty. It is done by means of an instrument made of bone, with a number of sharp teeth with which the skin is punctured. Into these punctures a preparation made from the kernel of the candle-nut, mixed with cocoa-nut oil, is rubbed, and the mark thus made is indelible. The operation is performed by a class of men whose profession it is, and they tattoo as much at a time as the person on whom they are operating can bear; which is not much, the pain and inflammation caused by tattooing being very great, sometimes causing death. Some of the chiefs were tattooed with an ornamental stripe down the legs, which gave them the appearance of being clad in tights; others had marks round the ankles and insteps which looked like tight-fitting and elegant boots. Their faces were also tattooed, and their breasts were very profusely marked with every imaginable species of device--muskets, dogs, birds, pigs, clubs, and canoes, intermingled with lozenges, squares, circles, and other arbitrary figures. The women were not tattooed so much as the men, having only a few marks on their feet and arms. But I must say, however objectionable this strange practice may be, it nevertheless had this good effect, that it took away very much from their appearance of nakedness. Next day, while we were returning from the woods to our schooner, we observed Romata rushing about in the neighbourhood of his house, apparently mad with passion. "Ah!" said Bill to me, "there he's at his old tricks again. That's his way when he gets drink. The natives make a sort of drink o' their own, and it makes him bad enough; but when he gets brandy he's like a wild tiger. The captain, I suppose, has given him a bottle, as usual, to keep him in good humour. After drinkin' he usually goes to sleep, and the people know it well, and keep out of his way, for fear they should waken him. Even the babies are taken out of ear-shot; for when he's waked up he rushes out just as you see him now, and spears or clubs the first person he meets." It seemed at the present time, however, that no deadly weapon had been in his way, for the infuriated chief was raging about without one. Suddenly he caught sight of an unfortunate man who was trying to conceal himself behind a tree. Bushing towards him, Romata struck him a terrible blow on the head, which knocked out the poor man's eye and also dislocated the chief's finger. The wretched creature offered no resistance; he did not even attempt to parry the blow. Indeed, from what Bill said, I found that he might consider himself lucky in having escaped with his life, which would certainly have been forfeited had the chief been possessed of a club at the tune. "Have these wretched creatures no law among themselves," said I, "which can restrain such wickedness?" "None," replied Bill. "The chiefs word is law. He might kill and eat a dozen of his own subjects any day for nothing more than his own pleasure, and nobody would take the least notice of it." This ferocious deed took place within sight of our party as we wended our way to the beach, but I could not observe any other expression on the faces of the men than that of total indifference or contempt. It seemed to me a very awful thing that it should be possible for men to come to such hardness of heart and callousness to the sight of bloodshed and violence; but, indeed, I began to find that such constant exposure to scenes of blood was having a slight effect upon myself, and I shuddered when I came to think that I too was becoming callous. I thought upon this subject much that night while I walked up and down the deck during my hours of watch, and I came to the conclusion that if I, who hated, abhorred, and detested such bloody deeds as I had witnessed within the last few weeks, could so soon come to be less sensitive about them, how little wonder that these poor ignorant savages, who were born and bred in familiarity therewith, should think nothing of them at all, and should hold human life in so very slight esteem! Chapter XXVI Mischief brewing--My blood is made to ran cold--Evil consultations and wicked resolves--Bloody Bill attempts to do good, and fails--The attack--Wholesale murder--The flight--The escape. Next morning I awoke with a feverish brow and a feeling of deep depression at my heart, and the more I thought on my unhappy fate, the more wretched and miserable did I feel. I was surrounded on all sides by human beings of the most dreadful character, to whom the shedding of blood was mere pastime. On shore were the natives, whose practices were so horrible that I could not think of them without shuddering. On board were none but pirates of the blackest dye, who, although not cannibals, were foul murderers, and more blameworthy even than the savages, inasmuch as they knew better. Even Bill, with whom I had, under the strange circumstances of my lot, formed a kind of intimacy, was so fierce in his nature as to have acquired the title of "Bloody" from his vile companions. I felt very much cast down the more I considered the subject and the impossibility of delivery, as it seemed to me--at least, for a long time to come. At last, in my feeling of utter helplessness, I prayed fervently to the Almighty that He would deliver me out of my miserable condition; and when I had done so I felt some degree of comfort. When the captain came on deck, before the hour at which the men usually started for the woods, I begged of him to permit me to remain aboard that day, as I did not feel well; but he looked at me angrily, and ordered me, in a surly tone, to get ready to go on shore as usual. The fact was that the captain had been out of humour for some time past. Romata and he had had some differences, and high words had passed between them, during which the chief had threatened to send a fleet of his war-canoes, with a thousand men, to break up and burn the schooner; whereupon the captain smiled sarcastically, and, going up to the chief, gazed sternly in his face, while he said, "I have only to raise my little finger just now, and my big gun will blow your whole village to atoms in five minutes!" Although the chief was a bold man, he quailed before the pirate's glance and threat, and made no reply; but a bad feeling had been raised, and old sores had been opened. I had, therefore, to go with the wood-cutters that day. Before starting, however, the captain called me into the cabin, and said-- "Here, Ralph; I've got a mission for you, lad. That blackguard Romata is in the dumps, and nothing will mollify him but a gift; so do you go up to his house and give him these whale's teeth, with my compliments. Take with you one of the men who can speak the language." I looked at the gift in some surprise, for it consisted of six white whale's teeth, and two of the same dyed bright red, which seemed to me very paltry things. However, I did not dare to hesitate or ask any questions; so, gathering them up, I left the cabin, and was soon on my way to the chiefs house, accompanied by Bill. On expressing my surprise at the gift, he said--"They're paltry enough to you or me, Ralph, but they're considered of great value by them chaps. They're a sort o' cash among them. The red ones are the most prized, one of them bein' equal to twenty o' the white ones. I suppose the only reason for their bein' valuable is that there ain't many of them, and they're hard to be got." On arriving at the house, we found Romata sitting on a mat, in the midst of a number of large bales of native cloth and other articles, which had been brought to him as presents from time to time by inferior chiefs. He received us rather haughtily; but on Bill explaining the nature of our errand, he became very condescending, and his eyes glistened with satisfaction when he received the whale's teeth, although he laid them aside with an assumption of kingly indifference. "Go," said he, with a wave of the hand--"go tell your captain that he may cut wood to-day, but not to-morrow. He must come ashore; I want to have a palaver with him." As we left the house to return to the woods, Bill shook his head. "There's mischief brewin' in that black rascal's head. I know him of old. But what comes here?" As he spoke, we heard the sound of laughter and shouting in the wood, and presently there issued from it a band of savages, in the midst of whom were a number of men bearing burdens on their shoulders. At first I thought that these burdens were poles with something rolled round them, the end of each pole resting on a man's shoulder; but on a nearer approach I saw that they were human beings, tied hand and foot, and so lashed to the poles that they could not move. I counted twenty of them as they passed. "More murder!" said Bill, in a voice that sounded between a hoarse laugh and a groan. "Surely they are not going to murder them?" said I, looking anxiously into Bill's face. "I don't know, Ralph," replied Bill, "what they're goin' to do with them; but I fear they mean no good when they tie fellows up in that way." As we continued our way towards the wood-cutters, I observed that Bill looked anxiously over his shoulder in the direction where the procession had disappeared. At last he stopped, and turning abruptly on his heel, said-- "I tell ye what it is, Ralph: I must be at the bottom o' that affair. Let us follow these black scoundrels and see what they're goin' to do." I must say I had no wish to pry further into their bloody practices; but Bill seemed bent on it, so I turned and went. We passed rapidly through the bush, being guided in the right direction by the shouts of the savages. Suddenly there was a dead silence, which continued for some time, while Bill and I involuntarily quickened our pace until we were running at the top of our speed across the narrow neck of land previously mentioned. As we reached the verge of the wood, we discovered the savages surrounding the large war-canoe, which they were apparently on the point of launching. Suddenly the multitude put their united strength to the canoe; but scarcely had the huge machine begun to move, when a yell, the most appalling that ever fell upon my ear, rose high above the shouting of the savages. It had not died away when another and another smote upon my throbbing ear; and then I saw that these inhuman monsters were actually launching their canoe over the living bodies of their victims. But there was no pity in the breasts of these men. Forward they went in ruthless indifference, shouting as they went, while high above their voices rang the dying shrieks of those wretched creatures, as, one after another, the ponderous canoe passed over them, burst the eyeballs from their sockets, and sent the life-blood gushing from their mouths. O reader, this is no fiction. I would not, for the sake of thrilling you with horror, invent so terrible a scene. It was witnessed. It is true--true as that accursed sin which has rendered the human heart capable of such diabolical enormities! When it was over, I turned round and fell upon the grass with a deep groan; but Bill seized me by the arm, and lifting me up as if I had been a child, cried-- "Come along, lad; let's away!"--and so, staggering and stumbling over the tangled underwood, we fled from the fatal spot. During the remainder of that day, I felt as if I were in a horrible dream. I scarce knew what was said to me, and was more than once blamed by the men for idling my time. At last the hour to return aboard came. We marched down to the beach, and I felt relief for the first time when my feet rested on the schooner's deck. In the course of the evening I overheard part of a conversation between the captain and the first mate, which startled me not a little. They were down in the cabin, and conversed in an undertone; but the skylight being off, I overheard every word that was said. "I don't half like it," said the mate, "It seems to me that we'll only have hard fightin' and no pay." "No pay!" repeated the captain, in a voice of suppressed anger, "Do you call a good cargo all for nothing no pay?" "Very true," returned the mate; "but we've got the cargo aboard. Why not cut your cable and take French leave o' them? What's the use o' tryin' to kill the blackguards when it'll do us no manner o' good?" "Mate," said the captain in a low voice, "you talk like a fresh-water sailor. I can only attribute this shyness to some strange delusion; for surely" (his voice assumed a slightly sneering tone as he said this), "surely I am not to suppose that _you_ have become soft-hearted! Besides, you are wrong in regard to the cargo being aboard; there's a good quarter of it lying in the woods, and that blackguard chief knows it and won't let me take it off. He defied us to do our worst yesterday." "Defied us! did he?" cried the mate with a bitter laugh. "Poor, contemptible thing!" "And yet he seems not so contemptible but that you are afraid to attack him." "Who said I was afraid?" growled the mate sulkily. "I'm as ready as any man in the ship. But, captain, what is it that you intend to do?" "I intend to muffle the sweeps and row the schooner up to the head of the creek there, from which point we can command the pile of sandal-wood with our gun. Then I shall land with all the men except two, who shall take care of the schooner and be ready with the boat to take us off. We can creep through the woods to the head of the village, where these cannibals are always dancing round their suppers of human flesh, and if the carbines of the men are loaded with a heavy charge of buck-shot we can drop forty or fifty at the first volley. After that the thing will be easy enough. The savages will take to the mountains in a body, and we shall take what we require, up anchor, and away." To this plan the mate at length agreed. As he left the cabin I heard the captain say-- "Give the men an extra glass of grog, and don't forget the buck-shot." The reader may conceive the horror with which I heard this murderous conversation. I immediately repeated it to Bill, who seemed much perplexed about it. At length he said-- "I'll tell you what I'll do, Ralph. I'll swim ashore after dark and fix a musket to a tree not far from the place where we'll have to land, and I'll tie a long string to the trigger, so that when our fellows cross it they'll let it off, and so alarm the village in time to prevent an attack, but not in time to prevent us gettin' back to the boat. So, Master Captain," added Bill, with a smile that for the first time seemed to me to be mingled with good-natured cheerfulness, "you'll be balked at least for once in your life by Bloody Bill." After it grew dark, Bill put this resolve in practice. He slipped over the side with a musket in his left hand, while with his right he swam ashore and entered the woods. He soon returned, having accomplished his purpose, and got on board without being seen, I being the only one on deck. When the hour of midnight approached the men were mustered on deck, the cable was cut, and the muffled sweeps got out. These sweeps were immensely large oars, each requiring a couple of men to work it. In a few minutes we entered the mouth of the creek, which was indeed the mouth of a small river, and took about half-an-hour to ascend it, although the spot where we intended to land was not more than six hundred yards from the mouth, because there was a slight current against us, and the mangroves which narrowed the creek impeded the rowers in some places. Having reached the spot, which was so darkened by overhanging trees that we could see with difficulty, a small kedge anchor attached to a thin line was let softly down over the stern. "Now, lads," whispered the captain, as he walked along the line of men, who were all armed to the teeth, "don't be in a hurry, aim low, and don't waste your first shots." He then pointed to the boat, into which the men crowded in silence. There was no room to row; but oars were not needed, as a slight push against the side of the schooner sent the boat gliding to the shore. "There's no need of leaving two in the boat," whispered the mate, as the men stepped out; "we shall want all our hands. Let Ralph stay." The captain assented, and ordered me to stand in readiness with the boat-hook, to shove ashore at a moment's notice if they should return, or to shove off if any of the savages should happen to approach. He then threw his carbine into the hollow of his arm and glided through the bushes, followed by his men. With a throbbing heart I awaited the result of our plan. I knew the exact locality where the musket was placed, for Bill had described it to me, and I kept my straining eyes fixed upon the spot. But no sound came, and I began to fear that either they had gone in another direction or that Bill had not fixed the string properly. Suddenly I heard a faint click, and observed one or two bright sparks among the bushes. My heart immediately sank within me, for I knew at once that the trigger had indeed been pulled, but that the priming had not caught. The plan, therefore, had utterly failed. A feeling of dread now began to creep over me as I stood in the boat, in that dark, silent spot, awaiting the issue of this murderous expedition. I shuddered as I glanced at the water that glided past like a dark reptile. I looked back at the schooner, but her hull was just barely visible, while her tapering masts were lost among the trees which overshadowed her. Her lower sails were set, but so thick was the gloom that they were quite invisible. Suddenly I heard a shot. In a moment a thousand voices raised a yell in the village; again the cry rose on the night air, and was followed by broken shouts as of scattered parties of men bounding into the woods. Then I heard another shout loud and close at hand. It was the voice of the captain cursing the man who had fired the premature shot. Then came the order, "Forward!" followed by a wild hurrah of our men as they charged the savages. Shots now rang in quick succession, and at last a loud volley startled the echoes of the woods. It was followed by a multitude of wild shrieks, which were immediately drowned in another hurrah from the men; the distance of the sound proving that they were driving their enemies before them towards the sea. While I was listening intently to these sounds, which were now mingled in confusion, I was startled by the rustling of the leaves not far from me. At first I thought it was a party of savages who had observed the schooner, but I was speedily undeceived by observing a body of natives--apparently several hundreds, as far as I could guess in the uncertain light--bounding through the woods towards the scene of battle. I saw at once that this was a party who had outflanked our men, and would speedily attack them in the rear. And so it turned out; for in a short time the shouts increased tenfold, and among them I thought I heard a death-cry uttered by voices familiar to my ear. At length the tumult of battle ceased, and from the cries of exultation that now arose from the savages, I felt assured that our men had been conquered. I was immediately thrown into dreadful consternation. What was I now to do? To be taken by the savages was too horrible to be thought of; to flee to the mountains was hopeless, as I should soon be discovered; and to take the schooner out of the creek without assistance was impossible. I resolved, however, to make the attempt, as being my only hope, and was on the point of pushing off, when my hand was stayed, and my blood chilled by an appalling shriek, in which I recognised the voice of one of the crew. It was succeeded by a shout from the savages. Then came another and another shriek of agony, making my ears to tingle, as I felt convinced they were murdering the pirate crew in cold blood. With a bursting heart and my brain whirling as if on fire, I seized the boat-hook to push from shore, when a man sprang from the bushes. "Stop! Ralph, stop!--there now, push off," he cried, and bounded into the boat so violently as nearly to upset her. It was Bill's voice! In another moment we were on board--the boat made fast, the line of the anchor cut, and the sweeps run out. At the first stroke of Bill's giant arm the schooner was nearly pulled ashore, for in his haste he forgot that I could scarcely move the unwieldy oar. Springing to the stern, he lashed the rudder in such a position as that, while it aided me, it acted against him, and so rendered the force of our strokes nearly equal. The schooner now began to glide quickly down the creek; but before we reached its mouth, a yell from a thousand voices on the bank told that we were discovered. Instantly a number of the savages plunged into the water and swam towards us; but we were making so much way that they could not overtake us. One, however, an immensely powerful man, succeeded in laying hold of the cut rope that hung from the stern, and clambered quickly upon deck. Bill caught sight of him the instant his head appeared above the taffrail; but he did not cease to row, and did not appear even to notice the savage until he was within a yard of him. Then, dropping the sweep, he struck him a blow on the forehead with his clenched fist that felled him to the deck. Lifting him up, he hurled him overboard, and resumed the oar. But now a greater danger awaited us, for the savages had outrun us on the bank, and were about to plunge into the water ahead of the schooner. If they succeeded in doing so, our fate was sealed. For one moment Bill stood irresolute. Then, drawing a pistol from his belt, he sprang to the brass gun, held the pan of his pistol over the touch-hole, and fired. The shot was succeeded by the hiss of the cannon's priming; then the blaze and the crushing thunder of the monstrous gun burst upon the savages with such deafening roar that it seemed as if their very mountains had been rent asunder. This was enough. The moment of surprise and hesitation caused by the unwonted sound gave us time to pass the point; a gentle breeze, which the dense foliage had hitherto prevented us from feeling, bulged out our sails; the schooner bent before it, and the shouts of the disappointed savages grew fainter and fainter in the distance as we were slowly wafted out to sea. Chapter XXVII Reflections--The wounded man--The squall--True consolation--Death. There is a power of endurance in human beings, both in their bodies and in their minds, which, I have often thought, seems to be wonderfully adapted and exactly proportioned to the circumstances in which individuals may happen to be placed--a power which, in most cases, is sufficient to carry a man through and over every obstacle that may happen to be thrown in his path through life, no matter how high or how steep the mountain may be, but which often forsakes him the moment the summit is gained, the point of difficulty passed, and leaves him prostrated, with energies gone, nerves unstrung, and a feeling of incapacity pervading the entire frame that renders the most trifling effort almost impossible. During the greater part of that day I had been subjected to severe mental and much physical excitement, which had almost crushed me down by the time I was relieved from duty in the course of the evening. But when the expedition whose failure has just been narrated was planned, my anxieties and energies had been so powerfully aroused that I went through the protracted scenes of that terrible night without a feeling of the slightest fatigue. My mind and body were alike active and full of energy. No sooner was the last thrilling fear of danger past, however, than my faculties went utterly relaxed; and when I felt the cool breezes of the Pacific playing around my fevered brow, and heard the free waves rippling at the schooner's prow, as we left the hated island behind us, my senses forsook me, and I fell in a swoon upon the deck. From this state I was quickly aroused by Bill, who shook me by the arm, saying-- "Hallo, Ralph boy! rouse up, lad; we're safe now. Poor thing! I believe he's fainted." And, raising me in his arms, he laid me on the folds of the gaff top-sail, which lay upon the deck near the tiller. "Here, take a drop o' this; it'll do you good, my boy," he added, in a voice of tenderness which I had never heard him use before, while he held a brandy-flask to my lips. I raised my eyes gratefully as I swallowed a mouthful; next moment my head sank heavily upon my arm, and I fell fast asleep. I slept long, for when I awoke the sun was a good way above the horizon, I did not move on first opening my eyes, as I felt a delightful sensation of rest pervading me, and my eyes were riveted on and charmed with the gorgeous splendour of the mighty ocean that burst upon my sight. It was a dead calm; the sea seemed a sheet of undulating crystal, tipped and streaked with the saffron hues of sunrise, which had not yet merged into the glowing heat of noon; and there was a deep calm in the blue dome above that was not broken even by the usual flutter of the sea-fowl. How long I would have lain in contemplation of this peaceful scene I know not, but my mind was recalled suddenly and painfully to the past and the present by the sight of Bill, who was seated on the deck at my feet, with his head reclining, as if in sleep, on his right arm, which rested on the tiller. As he seemed to rest peacefully, I did not mean to disturb him, but the slight noise I made in raising myself on my elbow caused him to start and look round. "Well, Ralph, awake at last, my boy? You have slept long and soundly," he said, turning towards me. On beholding his countenance I sprang up in anxiety. He was deadly pale, and his hair, which hung in dishevelled locks over his face, was clotted with blood. Blood also stained his hollow cheeks and covered the front of his shirt, which, with the greater part of his dress, was torn and soiled with mud. "O Bill!" said I with deep anxiety, "what is the matter with you? You are ill. You must have been wounded." "Even so, lad," said Bill in a deep, soft voice, while he extended his huge frame on the couch from which I had just risen. "I've got an ugly wound, I fear, and I've been waiting for you to waken, to ask you to get me a drop o' brandy and a mouthful o' bread from the cabin lockers. You seemed to sleep so sweetly, Ralph, that I didn't like to disturb you. But I don't feel up to much just now." I did not wait till he had done talking, but ran below immediately, and returned in a few seconds with a bottle of brandy and some broken biscuit. He seemed much refreshed after eating a few morsels and drinking a long draught of water mingled with a little of the spirits. Immediately afterwards he fell asleep, and I watched him anxiously until he awoke, being desirous of knowing the nature and extent of his wound. "Ha!" he exclaimed, on awaking suddenly after a slumber of an hour, "I'm the better of that nap, Ralph; I feel twice the man I was;" and he attempted to rise, but sank back again immediately with a deep groan. "Nay, Bill, you must not move, but lie still while I look at your wound. I'll make a comfortable bed for you here on deck, and get you some breakfast. After that you shall tell me how you got it. Cheer up, Bill," seeing that he turned his head away; "you'll be all right in a little, and I'll be a capital nurse to you, though I'm no doctor." I then left him, and lighted a fire in the caboose. While it was kindling, I went to the steward's pantry and procured the materials for a good breakfast, with which, in little more than half-an-hour, I returned to my companion. He seemed much better, and smiled kindly on me as I set before him a cup of coffee and a tray with several eggs and some bread on it. "Now then, Bill," said I cheerfully, sitting down beside him on the deck, "let's fall to. I'm very hungry myself, I can tell you; but--I forgot--your wound," I added, rising; "let me look at it." I found that the wound was caused by a pistol-shot in the chest. It did not bleed much, and as it was on the right side, I was in hopes that it might not be very serious. But Bill shook his head. "However," said he, "sit down, Ralph, and I'll tell you all about it. "You see, after we left the boat an' began to push through the bushes, we went straight for the line of my musket, as I had expected; but by some unlucky chance it didn't explode, for I saw the line torn away by the men's legs, and heard the click o' the lock; so I fancy the priming had got damp and didn't catch. I was in a great quandary now what to do, for I couldn't concoct in my mind, in the hurry, any good reason for firin' off my piece. But they say necessity's the mother of invention; so just as I was givin' it up and clinchin' my teeth to bide the worst o't and take what should come, a sudden thought came into my head. I stepped out before the rest, seemin' to be awful anxious to be at the savages, tripped my foot on a fallen tree, plunged head foremost into a bush, an of coorse, my carbine exploded! Then came such a screechin' from the camp as I never heard in all my life. I rose at once, and was rushing on with the rest, when the captain called a halt. "'You did that a-purpose, you villain!' he said with a tremendous oath, and drawin' a pistol from his belt, let fly right into my breast. I fell at once, and remembered no more till I was startled and brought round by the most awful yell I ever heard in my life--except, maybe, the shrieks o' them poor critters that were crushed to death under yon big canoe. Jumpin' up, I looked round, and through the trees saw a fire gleamin' not far off, the light of which showed me the captain and men tied hand and foot, each to a post, and the savages dancin' round them like demons. I had scarce looked for a second, when I saw one o' them go up to the captain flourishing a knife, and before I could wink he plunged it into his breast, while another yell, like the one that roused me, rang upon my ear. I didn't wait for more, but bounding up, went crashing through the bushes into the woods. The black fellows caught sight of me, however, but not in time to prevent me jumpin' into the boat, as you know." Bill seemed to be much exhausted after this recital, and shuddered frequently during the narrative, so I refrained from continuing the subject at that time, and endeavoured to draw his mind to other things. "But now, Bill," said I, "it behoves us to think about the future, and what course of action we shall pursue. Here we are, on the wide Pacific, in a well-appointed schooner, which is our own--at least no one has a better claim to it than we have--and the world lies before us, Moreover, here comes a breeze, so we must make up our minds which way to steer." "Ralph, boy," said my companion; "it matters not to me which way we go. I fear that my time is short now. Go where you will; I'm content." "Well then, Bill, I think we had better steer to the Coral Island, and see what has become of my dear old comrades, Jack and Peterkin. I believe the island has no name, but the captain once pointed it out to me on the chart, and I marked it afterwards; so, as we know pretty well our position just now, I think I can steer to it. Then, as to working the vessel, it is true I cannot hoist the sails single-handed, but luckily we have enough of sail set already; and if it should come on to blow a squall, I could at least drop the peaks of the main and fore sails, and clew them up partially without help, and throw her head close into the wind, so as to keep her all shaking till the violence of the squall is past. And if we have continued light breezes, I'll rig up a complication of blocks and fix them to the top-sail halyards, so that I shall be able to hoist the sails without help. 'Tis true I'll require half a day to hoist them, but we don't need to mind that. Then I'll make a sort of erection on deck to screen you from the sun, Bill; and if you can only manage to sit beside the tiller and steer for two hours every day, so as to let me get a nap, I'll engage to let you off duty all the rest of the twenty-four hours. And if you don't feel able for steering, I'll lash the helm and heave-to, while I get you your breakfasts and dinners; and so we'll manage famously, and soon reach the Coral Island." Bill smiled faintly as I ran on in this strain. "And what will you do," said he, "if it comes on to blow a storm?" This question silenced me, while I considered what I should do in such a case. At length I laid my hand on his arm, and said, "Bill, when a man has done all that he can do, he ought to leave the rest to God." "O Ralph," said my companion in a faint voice, looking anxiously into my face, "I wish that I had the feelin's about God that you seem to have, at this hour. I'm dyin', Ralph; yet I, who have braved death a hundred times, am afraid to die. I'm afraid to enter the next world. Something within tells me there will be a reckoning when I go there. But it's all over with me, Ralph. I feel that there's no chance o' my bein' saved." "Don't say that, Bill," said I in deep compassion; "don't say that. I'm quite sure there's hope even for you, but I can't remember the words of the Bible that make me think so. Is there not a Bible on board, Bill?" "No; the last that was in the ship belonged to a poor boy that was taken aboard against his will. He died, poor lad--I think through ill-treatment and fear. After he was gone the captain found his Bible and flung it overboard." I now reflected, with great sadness and self-reproach, on the way in which I had neglected my Bible; and it flashed across me that I was actually in the sight of God a greater sinner than this blood-stained pirate; for, thought I, he tells me that he never read the Bible, and was never brought up to care for it; whereas I was carefully taught to read it by my own mother, and had read it daily as long as I possessed one, yet to so little purpose that I could not now call to mind a single text that would meet this poor man's case, and afford him the consolation he so much required. I was much distressed, and taxed my memory for a long time. At last a text did flash into my mind, and I wondered much that I had not thought of it before. "Bill," said I in a low voice, "'Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.'" "Ay, Ralph, I've heard the missionaries say that before now, but what good can it do me? It's not for me, that; it's not for the likes o' me." I knew not now what to say, for although I felt sure that that word was for him as well as for me, I could not remember any other word whereby I could prove it. After a short pause, Bill raised his eyes to mine and said, "Ralph, I've led a terrible life. I've been a sailor since I was a boy, and I've gone from bad to worse ever since I left my father's roof. I've been a pirate three years now. It is true I did not choose the trade, but I was inveigled aboard this schooner and kept here by force till I became reckless and at last joined them. Since that time my hand has been steeped in human blood again and again. Your young heart would grow cold if I--But why should I go on? 'Tis of no use, Ralph; my doom is fixed." "Bill," said I, "'Though your sins be red like crimson, they shall be white as snow.' Only believe." "Only believe!" cried Bill, starting up on his elbow. "I've heard men talk o' believing as if it was easy. Ha! 'tis easy enough for a man to point to a rope and my, 'I believe that would bear my weight;' but 'tis another thing for a man to catch hold o' that rope and swing himself by it over the edge of a precipice!" The energy with which he said this, and the action with which it was accompanied, were too much for Bill. He sank back with a deep groan. As if the very elements sympathised with this man's sufferings, a low moan came sweeping over the sea. "Hist, Ralph!" said Bill, opening his eyes; "there's a squall coming, lad. Look alive, boy! Clew up the fore-sail. Drop the main-sail peak. Them squalls come quick sometimes." I had already started to my feet, and saw that a heavy squall was indeed bearing down on us. It had hitherto escaped my notice, owing to my being so much engrossed by our conversation. I instantly did as Bill desired, for the schooner was lying motionless on the glassy sea. I observed with some satisfaction that the squall was bearing down on the larboard bow, so that it would strike the vessel in the position in which she would be best able to stand the shock. Having done my best to shorten sail, I returned aft, and took my stand at the helm. "Now, boy," said Bill in a faint voice, "keep her close to the wind." A few seconds afterwards he said, "Ralph, let me hear those two texts again." I repeated them. "Are ye sure, lad, ye saw them in the Bible?" "Quite sure," I replied. Almost before the words had left my lips the wind burst upon us, and the spray dashed over our decks. For a time the schooner stood it bravely, and sprang forward against the rising sea like a war-horse. Meanwhile clouds darkened the sky, and the sea began to rise in huge billows. There was still too much sail on the schooner, and as the gale increased, I feared that the masts would be torn out of her or carried away, while the wind whistled and shrieked through the strained rigging. Suddenly the wind shifted a point, a heavy sea struck us on the bow, and the schooner was almost laid on her beam ends, so that I could scarcely keep my legs. At the same moment Bill lost his hold of the belaying-pin which had served to steady him, and he slid with stunning violence against the skylight. As he lay on the deck close beside me, I could see that the shock had rendered him insensible; but I did not dare to quit the tiller for an instant, as it required all my faculties, bodily and mental, to manage the schooner. For an hour the blast drove us along, while, owing to the sharpness of the vessel's bow and the press of canvas, she dashed through the waves instead of breasting over them, thereby drenching the decks with water fore and aft. At the end of that time the squall passed away, and left us rocking on the bosom of the agitated sea. My first care, the instant I could quit the helm, was to raise Bill from the deck and place him on the couch. I then ran below for the brandy bottle, and rubbed his face and hands with it, and endeavoured to pour a little down his throat. But my efforts, although I continued them long and assiduously, were of no avail; as I let go the hand which I had been chafing, it fell heavily on the deck. I laid my hand over his heart, and sat for some time quite motionless; but there was no flutter there--the pirate was dead! Chapter XXVIII Alone on the deep--Necessity the mother of invention--A valuable book discovered--Natural phenomenon--A bright day in my history. It was with feelings of awe, not unmingled with fear, that I now seated myself on the cabin skylight and gazed upon the rigid features of my late comrade, while my mind wandered over his past history and contemplated with anxiety my present position. Alone, in the midst of the wide Pacific, having a most imperfect knowledge of navigation, and in a schooner requiring at least eight men as her proper crew! But I will not tax the reader's patience with a minute detail of my feelings and doings during the first few days that followed the death of my companion. I will merely mention that I tied a cannon-ball to his feet, and, with feelings of the deepest sorrow, consigned him to the deep. For fully a week after that a steady breeze blew from the east, and as my course lay west and by north, I made rapid progress towards my destination. I could not take an observation, which I very much regretted, as the captain's quadrant was in the cabin; but from the day of setting sail from the island of the savages I had kept a dead reckoning, and as I knew pretty well now how much leeway the schooner made, I hoped to hit the Coral Island without much difficulty. In this I was the more confident that I knew its position on the chart (which I understood was a very good one), and so had its correct bearings by compass. As the weather seemed now quite settled and fine, and as I had got into the trade-winds, I set about preparations for hoisting the top-sails. This was a most arduous task, and my first attempts were complete failures, owing, in a great degree, to my reprehensible ignorance of mechanical forces. The first error I made was in applying my apparatus of blocks and pulleys to a rope which was too weak, so that the very first heave I made broke it in two, and sent me staggering against the after-hatch, over which I tripped, and, striking against the main-boom, tumbled down the companion-ladder into the cabin. I was much bruised and somewhat stunned by this untoward accident. However, I considered it fortunate that I was not killed. In my next attempt I made sure of not coming by a similar accident, so I unreeved the tackling and fitted up larger blocks and ropes. But although the principle on which I acted was quite correct, the machinery was now so massive and heavy that the mere friction and stiffness of the thick cordage prevented me from moving it at all. Afterwards, however, I came to proportion things more correctly; but I could act avoid reflecting at the time how much better it would have been had I learned all this from observation and study, instead of waiting till I was forced to acquire it through the painful and tedious lessons of experience. After the tackling was prepared and in good working order, it took me the greater part of a day to hoist the main top-sail. As I could not steer and work at this at the same time, I lashed the helm in such a position that, with a little watching now and then, it kept the schooner in her proper course. By this means I was enabled also to go about the deck and down below for things that I wanted, as occasion required; also to cook and eat my victuals. But I did not dare to trust to this plan during the three hours of rest that I allowed myself at night, as the wind might have shifted, in which case I should have been blown far out of my course ere I awoke. I was, therefore, in the habit of _heaving-to_ during those three hours--that is, fixing the rudder and the sails in such a position as that, by acting against each other, they would keep the ship stationary. After my night's rest, therefore, I had only to make allowance for the leeway she had made, and so resume my course. Of course I was to some extent anxious lest another squall should come, but I made the best provision I could in the circumstances, and concluded that by letting go the weather-braces of the top-sails and the top-sail halyards at the same time, I should thereby render these sails almost powerless. Besides this, I proposed to myself to keep a sharp look-out on the barometer in the cabin, and if I observed at any time a sudden fall in it, I resolved that I would instantly set about my multiform appliances for reducing sail, so as to avoid being taken unawares. Thus I sailed prosperously for two weeks, with a fair wind, so that I calculated I must be drawing near to the Coral Island; at the thought of which my heart bounded with joyful expectation. The only book I found on board, after a careful search, was a volume of Captain Cook's voyages. This, I suppose, the pirate captain had brought with him in order to guide him, and to furnish him with information regarding the islands of these seas. I found this a most delightful book indeed, and I not only obtained much interesting knowledge about the sea in which I was sailing, but I had many of my own opinions, derived from experience, corroborated, and not a few of them corrected. Besides the reading of this charming book, and the daily routine of occupations, nothing of particular note happened to me during this voyage, except once, when on rising one night, after my three hours' nap, while it was yet dark, I was amazed and a little alarmed to find myself floating in what appeared to be a sea of blue fire. I had often noticed the beautiful appearance of phosphorescent light, but this far exceeded anything of the sort I ever saw before. The whole sea appeared somewhat like milk, and was remarkably luminous. I rose in haste, and letting down a bucket into the sea, brought some of the water on board and took it down to the cabin to examine it; but no sooner did I approach the light than the strange appearance disappeared, and when I removed the cabin lamp the luminous light appeared again. I was much puzzled with this, and took up a little of the water in the hollow of my hand and then let it run off, when I found that the luminous substance was left behind on my palm. I ran with it to the lamp, but when I got there it was gone. I found, however, that when I went into the dark my hand shone again; so I took the large glass of the ship's telescope and examined my hand minutely, when I found that there were on it one or two small patches of a clear, transparent substance like jelly, which were so thin as to be almost invisible to the naked eye. Thus I came to know that the beautiful phosphoric light, which I had so often admired before, was caused by animals, for I had no doubt that these were of the same kind as the medusae or jelly-fish which are seen in all parts of the world. On the evening of my fourteenth day I was awakened out of a nap into which I had fallen by a loud cry, and starting up I gazed around me. I was surprised and delighted to see a large albatross soaring majestically over the ship. I immediately took it into my head that this was the albatross I had seen at Penguin Island. I had, of course, no good reason for supposing this, but the idea occurred to me, I know not why, and I cherished it, and regarded the bird with as much affection as if he had been an old friend. He kept me company all that day, and left me as night fell. Next morning, as I stood motionless and with heavy eyes at the helm--for I had not slept well--I began to weary anxiously for daylight, and peered towards the horizon, where I thought I observed something like a black cloud against the dark sky. Being always on the alert for squalls, I ran to the bow. There could be no doubt it was a squall, and as I listened I thought I heard the murmur of the coming gale. Instantly I began to work might and main at my cumbrous tackle for shortening sail, and in the course of an hour and a half had the most of it reduced--the top-sail yards down on the caps, the top-sails clewed up, the sheets hauled in, the main and fore peaks lowered, and the flying-jib down. While thus engaged the dawn advanced, and I cast an occasional furtive glance ahead in the midst of my labour. But now that things were prepared for the worst, I ran forward again and looked anxiously over the bow. I now heard the roar of the waves distinctly, and as a single ray of the rising sun gleamed over the ocean I saw--what! could it be that I was dreaming?--that magnificent breaker with its ceaseless roar!--that mountain top!--yes, once more I beheld the Coral Island! Chapter XXIX The effect of a cannon-shot--A happy reunion of a somewhat moist nature--Retrospect and explanations--An awful dive--New plans--The last of the Coral Island. I almost fell upon the deck with the tumult of mingled emotions that filled my heart as I gazed ardently towards my beautiful island. It was still many miles away, but sufficiently near to enable me to trace distinctly the well-remembered outlines of the two mountains. My first impulse was to utter an exclamation of gratitude for being carried to my former happy home in safety; my second, to jump up, clap my hands, shout, and run up and down the deck, with no other object in view than that of giving vent to my excited feelings. Then I went below for the telescope, and spent nearly ten minutes of the utmost impatience in vainly trying to get a focus, and in rubbing the skin nearly off my eyes, before I discovered that having taken off the large glass to examine the phosphoric water with I had omitted to put it on again. After that I looked up impatiently at the sails, which I now regretted having lowered so hastily, and for a moment thought of hoisting the main top-sail again; but recollecting that it would take me full half a day to accomplish, and that, at the present rate of sailing, two hours would bring me to the island, I immediately dismissed the idea. The remainder of the time I spent in making feverish preparations for arriving and seeing my dear comrades. I remembered that they were not in the habit of rising before six, and as it was now only three, I hoped to arrive before they were awake. Moreover, I set about making ready to let go the anchor, resolving in my own mind that, as I knew the depth of water in the passage of the reef and within the lagoon, I would run the schooner in and bring up opposite the bower. Fortunately the anchor was hanging at the cat-head, otherwise I should never have been able to use it. Now, I had only to cut the tackling, and it would drop of its own weight. After searching among the flags, I found the terrible black one, which I ran up to the peak. While I was doing this a thought struck me. I went to the powder-magazine, brought up a blank cartridge and loaded the big brass gun, which, it will be remembered, was unhoused when we set sail, and as I had no means of housing it, there it had stood, bristling alike at fair weather and foul all the voyage. I took care to grease its mouth well, and before leaving the fore part of the ship, thrust the poker into the fire. All was now ready. A steady five-knot breeze was blowing, so that I was now not more than quarter of a mile from the reef. I was soon at the entrance, and as the schooner glided quickly through, I glanced affectionately at the huge breaker, as if it had been the same one I had seen there when I bade adieu, as I feared for ever, to the island. On coming opposite the Water Garden, I put the helm hard down. The schooner came round with a rapid, graceful bend, and lost way just opposite the bower. Running forward, I let go the anchor, caught up the red-hot poker, applied it to the brass gun, and saluted the mountains with a _bang_ such as had only once before broke their slumbering echoes! Effective although it was, however, it was scarcely equal to the bang with which, instantly after, Peterkin bounded from the bower, in scanty costume, his eyeballs starting from his head with surprise and terror. One gaze he gave, one yell, and then fled into the bushes like a wild cat. The next moment Jack went through exactly the same performance, the only difference being that his movements were less like those of Jack-in-the-box, though not less vigorous and rapid than those of Peterkin. "Hallo!" I shouted, almost mad with joy, "what ho! Peterkin! Jack I hallo! it's _me_!" My shout was just in time to arrest them. They halted and turned round, and the instant I repeated the cry I saw that they recognised my voice, by both of them running at full speed towards the beach. I could no longer contain myself. Throwing off my jacket, I jumped overboard at the same moment that Jack bounded into the sea. In another moment we met in deep water, clasped each other round the neck, and sank, as a matter of course, to the bottom! We were well-nigh choked, and instantly struggled to the surface, where Peterkin was sputtering about like a wounded duck, laughing and crying by turns, and choking himself with salt water! It would be impossible to convey to my reader, by description, an adequate conception of the scene that followed my landing on the beach, as we stood embracing each other indiscriminately in our dripping garments, and giving utterance to incoherent rhapsodies, mingled with wild shouts. It can be more easily imagined than described, so I will draw a curtain over this part of my history, and carry the reader forward over an interval of three days. During the greater part of that period Peterkin did nothing but roast pigs, taro, and bread-fruit, and ply me with plantains, plums, potatoes, and cocoa-nuts, while I related to him and Jack the terrible and wonderful adventures I had gone through since we last met. After I had finished the account, they made me go all over it again; and when I had concluded the second recital, I had to go over it again, while they commented upon it piecemeal. They were much affected by what I told them of the probable fate of Avatea, and Peterkin could by no means brook the idea of the poor girl being converted into a _long pig_! As for Jack, he clinched his teeth, and shook his fist towards the sea, saying at the same time that he was sorry he had not broken Tararo's head, and he only hoped that one day he should be able to plant his knuckles on the bridge of that chiefs nose! After they had "pumped me dry," as Peterkin said, I begged to be informed of what had happened to them during my long absence, and particularly as to how they got out of the Diamond Cave. "Well, you must know," began Jack, "after you had dived out of the cave, on the day you were taken away from us, we waited very patiently for half-an-hour, not expecting you to return before the end of that time. Then we began to upbraid you for staying so long, when you knew we would be anxious; but when an hour passed, we became alarmed, and I resolved at all hazards to dive out, and see what had become of you, although I felt for poor Peterkin, because, as he truly said, 'If you never come back I'm shut up here for life.' However, I promised not to run any risk, and he let me go; which, to say truth, I thought very courageous of him!" "I should just think it was," interrupted Peterkin, looking at Jack over the edge of a monstrous potato which he happened to be devouring at the time. "Well," continued Jack, "you may guess my consternation when you did not answer to my halloo. At first I imagined that the pirates must have killed you, and left you in the bush or thrown you into the sea; then it occurred to me that this would have served no end of theirs, so I came to the conclusion that they must have carried you away with them. As this thought struck me, I observed the pirate schooner standing away to the nor'ard, almost hull down on the horizon, and I sat down on the rocks to watch her as she slowly sank from my sight. And I tell you, Ralph my boy, that I shed more tears that time at losing you than I have done, I verily believe, all my life before--" "Pardon me, Jack, for interrupting," said Peterkin; "surely you must be mistaken in that: you've often told me that when you were a baby you used to howl and roar from morning to--" "Hold your tongue, Peterkin," cried Jack. "Well, after the schooner had disappeared, I dived back into the cave, much to Peterkin's relief, and told him what I had seen. We sat down and had a long talk over this matter, and then we agreed to make a regular, systematic search through the woods, so as to make sure at least that you had not been killed. But now we thought of the difficulty of getting out of the cave without your help. Peterkin became dreadfully nervous when he thought of this; and I must confess I felt some alarm, for, of course, I could not hope alone to take him out so quickly as we two together had brought him in; and he himself vowed that, if we had been a moment longer with him that time, he would have had to take a breath of salt water. However, there was no help for it, and I endeavoured to calm his fears as well as I could; 'For,' said I, 'you can't live here, Peterkin;' to which he replied,' Of course not, Jack, I can only die here, and as that's not at all desirable, you had better propose something.' So I suggested that he should take a good long breath, and trust himself to me. "'Might we not make a large bag of cocoa-nut cloth, into which I could shove my head, and tie it tight round my neck?' he asked with a haggard smile. 'It might let me get one breath under water!' "'No use,' said I, 'it would fill in a moment and suffocate you. I see nothing for it, Peterkin, if you really can't keep your breath so long, but to let me knock you down, and carry you out while in a state of insensibility.' "But Peterkin didn't relish this idea. He seemed to fear that I would not be able to measure the exact force of the blow, and might, on the one hand, hit him so softly as to render a second or third blow necessary, which would be very uncomfortable; or, on the other hand, give him such a smash as would entirely spoil his figure-head, or mayhap knock the life out of him altogether! At last I got him persuaded to try to hold his breath, and commit himself to me; so he agreed, and down we went. But I had not got half-way through, when he began to struggle and kick like a wild bull, burst from my grasp, and hit against the roof of the tunnel. I was therefore obliged to force him violently back into the cave again, where he rose panting to the surface. In short, he had lost his presence of mind, and--" "Nothing of the sort," cried Peterkin indignantly, "I only lost my wind; and if I had not had presence of mind enough to kick as I did, I should have bu'st in your arms!" "Well, well, so be it," resumed Jack with a smile; "but the upshot of it was, that we had to hold another consultation on the point, and I really believe that, had it not been for a happy thought of mine, we should have been consulting there yet." "I wish we had," again interrupted Peterkin with a sigh.--"I'm sure, Ralph, if I had thought that you were coming back again, I would willingly have awaited your return for months rather than have endured the mental agony which I went through. But proceed." "The thought was this," continued Jack, "that I should tie Peterkin's hands and feet with cords, and then lash him firmly to a stout pole about five feet long, in order to render him quite powerless, and keep him straight and stiff. You should have seen his face of horror, Ralph, when I suggested this; but he came to see that it was his only chance, and told me to set about it as fast as I could; 'For,' said he, 'this is no jokin', Jack, _I_ can tell you, and the sooner it's done the better.' I soon procured the cordage and a suitable pole, with which I returned to the cave, and lashed him as stiff and straight as an Egyptian mummy; and, to say truth, he was no bad representation of what an English mummy would be, if there were such things, for he was as white as a dead man." "'Now,' said Peterkin in a tremulous voice, 'swim with me as near to the edge of the hole as you can before you dive, then let me take a long breath, and as I shan't be able to speak after I've taken it, you'll watch my face, and the moment you see me wink--dive! And oh,' he added earnestly, 'pray don't be long!' "I promised to pay the strictest attention to his wishes, and swam with him to the outlet of the cave. Here I paused. 'Now then', said I, 'pull away at the wind, lad.' "Peterkin drew in a breath so long that I could not help thinking of the frog in the fable, that wanted to swell itself as big as the ox. Then I looked into his face earnestly. Slap went the lid of his right eye; down went my head, and up went my heels. We shot through the passage like an arrow, and rose to the surface of the open sea before you could count twenty. "Peterkin had taken in such an awful load of wind that, on reaching the free air, he let it out with a yell loud enough to have been heard a mile off, and then the change in his feelings was so sudden and great, that he did not wait till we landed, but began, tied up as he was, to shout and sing for joy as I supported him, with my left arm, to the shore. However, in the middle of a laugh that a hyena might have envied, I let him accidentally slip, which extinguished him in a moment. "After this happy deliverance, we immediately began our search for your dead body, Ralph; and you have no idea how low our hearts sank as we set off, day after day, to examine the valleys and mountain sides with the utmost care. In about three weeks we completed the survey of the whole island, and had at least the satisfaction of knowing that you had not been killed. But it occurred to us that you might have been thrown into the sea, so we examined the sands and the lagoon carefully, and afterwards went all round the outer reef. One day, while we were upon the reef, Peterkin espied a small, dark object lying among the rocks, which seemed to be quite different from the surrounding stones. We hastened towards the spot, and found it to be a small keg. On knocking out the head we discovered that it was gunpowder." "It was I who sent you that, Jack," said I with a smile. "Fork out!" cried Peterkin energetically, starting to his feet and extending his open hand to Jack. "Down with the money, sir, else I'll have you shut up for life in a debtor's prison the moment we return to England!" "I'll give you an I O U in the meantime," returned Jack, laughing, "so sit down and be quiet.--The fact is, Ralph, when we discovered this keg of powder, Peterkin immediately took me a bet of a thousand pounds that you had something to do with it, and I took him a bet of ten thousand that you had not." "Peterkin was right then," said I, explaining how the thing had occurred. "Well, we found it very useful," continued Jack, "although some of it had got a little damp; and we furbished up the old pistol, with which Peterkin is a crack shot now. But to continue. We did not find any other vestige of you on the reef, and finally gave up all hope of ever seeing you again. After this the island became a dreary place to us, and we began to long for a ship to heave in sight and take us off. But now that you're back again, my dear fellow, it looks as bright and cheerful as it used to do, and I love it as much as ever. "And now," continued Jack, "I have a great desire to visit some of the other islands of the South Seas. Here we have a first-rate schooner at our disposal, so I don't see what should hinder us." "Just the very thing I was going to propose," cried Peterkin. "I vote for starting at once." "Well, then," said Jack, "it seems to me that we could not do better than shape our course for the island on which Avatea lives, and endeavour to persuade Tararo to let her marry the black fellow to whom she is engaged, instead of making a long pig of her. If he has a spark of gratitude in him, he'll do it. Besides, having become champions for this girl once before, it behoves us, as true knights, not to rest until we set her free; at least, all the heroes in all the story-books I have ever read would count it foul disgrace to leave such a work unfinished." "I'm sure I don't know or care what your knights in story-books would do," said Peterkin; "but I'm certain that it would be capital fun, so I'm your man whenever you want me." This plan of Jack's was quite in accordance with his romantic, impulsive nature; and having made up his mind to save this black girl, he could not rest until the thing was commenced. "But there may be great danger in this attempt," he said, at the end of a long consultation on the subject. "Will you, lads, go with me in spite of this?" "Go with you!" we repeated in the same breath. "Can you doubt it?" said I. "For a moment," added Peterkin. I need scarcely say that, having made up our minds to go on this enterprise, we lost no time in making preparations to quit the island; and as the schooner was well laden with stores of every kind for a long cruise, we had little to do except to add to our abundant supply a quantity of cocoa-nuts, bread-fruit, taro, yams, plums, and potatoes, chiefly with the view of carrying the fragrance of our dear island along with us as long as we could. When all was ready, we paid a farewell visit to the different familiar spots where most of our time had been spent. We ascended the mountain top, and gazed for the last time at the rich green foliage in the valleys, the white sandy beach, the placid lagoon, and the barrier coral reef with its crested breakers. Then we descended to Spouting Cliff, and looked down at the pale-green monster which we had made such fruitless efforts to spear in days gone by. From this we hurried to the Water Garden, and took a last dive into its clear waters, and a last gambol amongst its coral groves. I hurried out before my companions, and dressed in haste, in order to have a long examination of my tank, which Peterkin, in the fulness of his heart, had tended with the utmost care, as being a vivid remembrancer of me, rather than out of love for natural history. It was in superb condition--the water as clear and pellucid as crystal; the red and green seaweed of the most brilliant hues; the red, purple, yellow, green, and striped anemones fully expanded, and stretching out their arms as if to welcome and embrace their former master; the star-fish, zoophytes, sea-pens, and other innumerable marine insects looking fresh and beautiful; and the crabs, as Peterkin said, looking as wide awake, impertinent, rampant, and pugnacious as ever. It was, indeed, so lovely and so interesting that I would scarcely allow myself to be torn away from it. Last of all, we returned to the bower and collected the few articles we possessed, such as the axe, the pencil-case, the broken telescope, the penknife, the hook made from the brass ring, and the sail-needle, with which we had landed on the island; also the long boots and the pistol, besides several curious articles of costume which we had manufactured from time to time. These we conveyed on board in our little boat, after having carved our names on a chip of ironwood, thus:-- JACK MARTIN, RALPH ROVER, PETERKIN GAY, which we fixed up inside of the bower. The boat was then hoisted on board and the anchor weighed; which latter operation cost us great labour and much time, as the anchor was so heavy that we could not move it without the aid of my complex machinery of blocks and pulleys. A steady breeze was blowing off shore when we set sail, at a little before sunset. It swept us quickly past the reef and out to sea. The shore grew rapidly more indistinct as the shades of evening fell, while our clipper bark bounded lightly over the waves. Slowly the mountain top sank on the horizon, until it became a mere speck. In another moment the sun and the Coral Island sank together into the broad bosom of the Pacific. Chapter XXX The voyage--The island, and a consultation in which danger is scouted as a thing unworthy of consideration--Rats and cats--The native teacher--Awful revelations--Wonderful effects of Christianity. Our voyage during the next two weeks was most interesting and prosperous. The breeze continued generally fair, and at all times enabled us to lie our course; for being, as I have said before, clipper-built, the pirate schooner could lie very close to the wind and make little leeway. We had no difficulty now in managing our sails, for Jack was heavy and powerful, while Peterkin was active as a kitten. Still, however, we were a very insufficient crew for such a vessel, and if any one had proposed to us to make such a voyage in it before we had been forced to go through so many hardships from necessity, we would have turned away with pity from the individual making such proposal as from a madman. I pondered this a good deal, and at last concluded that men do not know how much they are capable of doing till they try, and that we should never give way to despair in any undertaking, however difficult it may seem--always supposing, however, that our cause is a good one, and that we can ask the Divine blessing on it. Although, therefore, we could now manage our sails easily, we nevertheless found that my pulleys were of much service to us in some things; though Jack did laugh heartily at the uncouth arrangement of ropes and blocks, which had, to a sailor's eye, a very lumbering and clumsy appearance. But I will not drag my reader through the details of this voyage. Suffice it to say that, after an agreeable sail of about three weeks, we arrived off the island of Mango, which I recognised at once from the description that the pirate Bill had given me of it during one of our conversations. As soon as we came within sight of it we hove the ship to and held a council of war. "Now, boys," said Jack, as we seated ourselves beside him on the cabin skylight, "before we go further in this business, we must go over the pros and cons of it; for although you have so generously consented to stick by me through thick and thin, it would be unfair did I not see that you thoroughly understand the danger of what we are about to attempt." "Oh, bother the danger!" cried Peterkin. "I wonder to hear you, Jack, talk of danger. When a fellow begins to talk about it, he'll soon come to magnify it to such a degree that he'll not be fit to face it when it comes, no more than a suckin' baby." "Nay, Peterkin," replied Jack gravely, "I won't be jested out of it. I grant you that when we've once resolved to act, and have made up our minds what to do, we should think no more of danger. But before we have so resolved it behoves us to look it straight in the face, and examine into it, and walk round it; for if we flinch at a distant view, we're sure to run away when the danger is near.--Now, I understand from you, Ralph, that the island is inhabited by thorough-going, out-and-out cannibals, whose principal law is, 'Might is right, and the weakest goes to the wall'?" "Yes," said I; "so Bill gave me to understand. He told me, however, that at the southern side of it the missionaries had obtained a footing amongst an insignificant tribe. A native teacher had been sent there by the Wesleyans, who had succeeded in persuading the chief at that part to embrace Christianity. But instead of that being of any advantage to our enterprise, it seems the very reverse; for the chief Tararo is a determined heathen, and persecutes the Christians--who are far too weak in numbers to offer any resistance--and looks with dislike upon all white men, whom he regards as propagators of the new faith." "Tis a pity," said Jack, "that the Christian tribe is so small, for we shall scarcely be safe under their protection, I fear. If Tararo takes it into his head to wish for our vessel, or to kill ourselves, he could take us from them by force. You say that the native missionary talks English?" "So I believe." "Then, what I propose is this," said Jack. "We will run round to the south side of the island, and cast anchor off the Christian village. We are too far away just now to have been descried by any of the savages, so we shall get there unobserved, and have time to arrange our plans before the heathen tribes know of our presence. But in doing this we run the risk of being captured by the ill-disposed tribes, and being very ill used, if not-a--" "Roasted alive and eaten," cried Peterkin. "Come, out with it, Jack. According to your own showing, it's well to look the danger straight in the face!" "Well, that is the worst of it, certainly. Are you prepared, then, to take your chance of that?" "I've been prepared and had my mind made up long ago," cried Peterkin, swaggering about the deck with his hands thrust into his breeches pockets. "The fact is, Jack, I don't believe that Tararo will be so ungrateful as to eat us; and I'm quite sure that he'll be too happy to grant us whatever we ask, so the sooner we go in and win the better." Peterkin was wrong, however, in his estimate of savage gratitude, as the sequel will show. The schooner was now put before the wind, and after making a long run to the southward, we put about and beat up for the south side of Mango, where we arrived before sunset, and hove-to off the coral reef. Here we awaited the arrival of a canoe, which immediately put off on our rounding-to. When it arrived, a mild-looking native, of apparently forty years of age, came on board, and, taking off his straw hat, made us a low bow. He was clad in a respectable suit of European clothes; and the first words he uttered, as he stepped up to Jack and shook hands with him, were-- "Good day, gentlemen. We are happy to see you at Mango; you are heartily welcome." After returning his salutation, Jack exclaimed, "You must be the native missionary teacher of whom I have heard; are you not?" "I am. I have the joy to be a servant of the Lord Jesus at this station." "You're the very man I want to see, then," replied Jack; "that's lucky. Come down to the cabin, friend, and have a glass of wine. I wish particularly to speak with you. My men there," pointing to Peterkin and me, "will look after your people." "Thank you," said the teacher, as he followed Jack to the cabin; "I do not drink wine, or any strong drink." "Oh! then there's lots of water, and you can have biscuit." "Now, 'pon my word, that's cool!" said Peterkin; "his _men_, forsooth! Well, since we are to be men, we may as well come it as strong over these black chaps as we can.--Hallo, there!" he cried to the half-dozen of natives who stood upon the deck, gazing in wonder at all they saw, "here's for you;" and he handed them a tray of broken biscuit and a can of water. Then, thrusting his hands into his pockets, he walked up and down the deck with an enormous swagger, whistling vociferously. In about half-an-hour Jack and the teacher came on deck, and the latter, bidding us a cheerful good-evening, entered his canoe and paddled to the shore. When he was gone, Peterkin stepped up to Jack, and, touching his cap, said-- "Well, captain, have you any communications to make to your _men?_" "Yes," cried Jack; "ready about, mind the helm, and clew up your tongue, while I con the schooner through the passage in the reef. The teacher, who seems a first-rate fellow, says it's quite deep, and good anchorage within the lagoon close to the shore." While the vessel was slowly advancing to her anchorage, under a light breeze, Jack explained to us that Avatea was still on the island, living amongst the heathens; that she had expressed a strong desire to join the Christians, but Tararo would not let her, and kept her constantly in close confinement. "Moreover," continued Jack, "I find that she belongs to one of the Samoan Islands, where Christianity had been introduced long before her capture by the heathens of a neighbouring island; and the very day after she was taken she was to have joined the Church which had been planted there by that excellent body the London Missionary Society. The teacher tells me, too, that the poor girl has fallen in love with a Christian chief, who lives on an island some fifty miles or so to the south of this one, and that she is meditating a desperate attempt at escape. So, you see, we have come in the nick of time. I fancy that this chief is the fellow whom you heard of, Ralph, at the Island of Emo. Besides all this, the heathen savages are at war among themselves, and there's to be a battle fought the day after to-morrow, in which the principal leader is Tararo; so that we'll not be able to commence our negotiations with the rascally chief till the day after." The village off which we anchored was beautifully situated at the head of a small bay, from the margin of which trees of every description peculiar to the tropics rose in the richest luxuriance to the summit of a hilly ridge, which was the line of demarcation between the possessions of the Christians and those of the neighbouring heathen chief. The site of the settlement was an extensive plot of flat land, stretching in a gentle slope from the sea to the mountain. The cottages stood several hundred yards from the beach, and were protected from the glare of the sea by the rich foliage of rows of large Barringtonia and other trees which girt the shore. The village was about a mile in length, and perfectly straight, with a wide road down the middle, on either side of which were rows of the tufted-topped ti tree, whose delicate and beautiful blossoms, hanging beneath their plume-crested tops, added richness to the scene. The cottages of the natives were built beneath these trees, and were kept in the most excellent order, each having a little garden in front, tastefully laid out and planted, while the walks were covered with black and white pebbles. Every house had doors and Venetian windows, painted partly with lamp-black made from the candle-nut, and partly with red ochre, which contrasted powerfully with the dazzling coral lime that covered the walls. On a prominent position stood a handsome church, which was quite a curiosity in its way. It was a hundred feet long by fifty broad, and was seated throughout to accommodate upwards of two thousand persons. It had six large folding doors, and twelve windows with Venetian blinds; and although a large and substantial edifice, it had been built, we were told by the teacher, in the space of two months! There was not a single iron nail in the fabric, and the natives had constructed it chiefly with their stone and bone axes and other tools, having only one or two axes or tools of European manufacture. Everything around this beautiful spot wore an aspect of peace and plenty; and as we dropped our anchor within a stone's cast of the substantial coral wharf, I could not avoid contrasting it with the wretched village of Emo, where I had witnessed so many frightful scenes. When the teacher afterwards told me that the people of this tribe had become converts only a year previous to our arrival, and that they had been living before that in the practice of the most bloody system of idolatry, I could not refrain from exclaiming, "What a convincing proof that Christianity is of God!" On landing from our little boat, we were received with a warm welcome by the teacher and his wife; the latter being also a native, clothed in a simple European gown and a straw bonnet. The shore was lined with hundreds of natives, whose persons were all more or less clothed with native cloth. Some of the men had on a kind of poncho formed of this cloth, their legs being uncovered; others wore clumsily fashioned trousers, and no upper garment except hats made of straw and cloth. Many of the dresses, both of women and men, were grotesque enough, being very bad imitations of the European garb; but all wore a dress of some sort or other. They seemed very glad to see us, and crowded round us as the teacher led the way to his dwelling, where we were entertained, in the most sumptuous manner, on baked pig and all the varieties of fruits and vegetables that the island produced. We were much annoyed, however, by the rats: they seemed to run about the house like domestic animals. As we sat at table, one of them peeped up at us over the edge of the cloth, close to Peterkin's elbow, who floored it with a blow on the snout from his knife, exclaiming as he did so-- "I say, Mister Teacher, why don't you set traps for these brutes? Surely you are not fond of them!" "No," replied the teacher with a smile; "we would be glad to get rid of them if we could; but if we were to trap all the rats on the island, it would occupy our whole time." "Are they, then, so numerous?" inquired Jack. "They swarm everywhere. The poor heathens on the north side eat them, and think them very sweet. So did my people formerly; but they do not eat so many now, because the missionary who was last here expressed disgust at it. The poor people asked if it was wrong to eat rats; and he told them that it was certainly not wrong, but that the people of England would be much disgusted were they asked to eat rats." We had not been an hour in the house of this kind-hearted man when we were convinced of the truth of his statement as to their numbers; for the rats ran about the floors in dozens, and during our meal two men were stationed at the table to keep them off! "What a pity you have no cats!" said Peterkin, and he aimed a blow at another reckless intruder, and missed it. "We would indeed be glad to have a few," rejoined the teacher, "but they are difficult to be got. The hogs, we find, are very good rat-killers, but they do not seem to be able to keep the numbers down. I have heard that they are better than cats." As the teacher said this, his good-natured black face was wrinkled with a smile of merriment. Observing that I had noticed it, he said-- "I smiled just now when I remembered the fate of the first cat that was taken to Rarotonga. This is one of the stations of the London Missionary Society. It, like our own, is infested with rats, and a cat was brought at last to the island. It was a large black one. On being turned loose, instead of being content to stay among men, the cat took to the mountains, and lived in a wild state, sometimes paying visits during the night to the houses of the natives; some of whom, living at a distance from the settlement, had not heard of the cat's arrival, and were dreadfully frightened in consequence, calling it a 'monster of the deep,' and flying in terror away from it. One night the cat--feeling a desire for company, I suppose--took its way to the house of a chief who had recently been converted to Christianity, and had begun to learn to read and pray. The chief's wife, who was sitting awake at his side while he slept, beheld with horror two fires glistening in the doorway, and heard with surprise a mysterious voice. Almost petrified with fear, she awoke her husband, and began to upbraid him for forsaking his old religion and burning his god, who, she declared, was now come to be avenged of them. 'Get up and pray! get up and pray!' she cried. The chief arose, and on opening his eyes beheld the same glaring lights and heard the same ominous sound. Impelled by the extreme urgency of the case, he commenced, with all possible vehemence, to vociferate the alphabet, as a prayer to God to deliver them from the vengeance of Satan! On hearing this, the cat, as much alarmed as themselves, fled precipitately away, leaving the chief and his wife congratulating themselves on the efficacy of their prayer." We were much diverted with this anecdote, which the teacher related in English so good that we certainly could not have supposed him a native but for the colour of his face and the foreign accent in his tone. Next day we walked out with this interesting man, and were much entertained and instructed by his conversation, as we rambled through the cool, shady groves of bananas, citrons, limes, and other trees, or sauntered among the cottages of the natives, and watched them while they laboured diligently in the taro beds or manufactured the tapa or native cloth. To some of these Jack put questions through the medium of the missionary; and the replies were such as to surprise us at the extent of their knowledge. Indeed, Peterkin very truly remarked that "they seemed to know a considerable deal more than Jack himself!" Among other pieces of interesting information that we obtained was the following, in regard to coral formations:-- "The islands of the Pacific," said our friend, "are of three different kinds or classes. Those of the first class are volcanic, mountainous, and wild; some shooting their jagged peaks into the clouds at an elevation of ten and fifteen thousand feet. Those of the second class are of crystallised limestone, and vary in height from one hundred to five hundred feet. The hills on these are not so wild or broken as those of the first class, but are richly clothed with vegetation, and very beautiful. I have no doubt that the Coral Island on which you were wrecked was one of this class. They are supposed to have been upheaved from the bottom of the sea by volcanic agency, but they are not themselves volcanic in their nature, neither are they of coral formation. Those of the third class are the low coralline islands, usually having lagoons of water in their midst; they are very numerous. "As to the manner in which coral islands and reefs are formed, there are various opinions on this point. I will give you what seems to me the most probable theory--a theory, I may add, which is held by some of the good and scientific missionaries. It is well known that there is much lime in salt water; it is also known that coral is composed of lime. It is supposed that the polypes, or coral insects, have the power of attracting this lime to their bodies; and with this material they build their little cells or habitations. They choose the summit of a volcano, or the top of a submarine mountain, as a foundation on which to build; for it is found that they never work at any great depth below the surface. On this they work; the polypes on the mountain top, of course, reach the surface first, then those at the outer edges reach the top sooner than the others between them and the centre, thus forming the coral reef surrounding the lagoon of water and the central island; after that the insects within the lagoon cease working. When the surface of the water is reached, these myriads of wonderful creatures die. Then birds visit the spot, and seeds are thus conveyed thither, which take root, and spring up, and flourish. Thus are commenced those coralline islets of which you have seen so many in these seas. The reefs round the large islands are formed in a similar manner. When we consider," added the missionary, "the smallness of the architects used by our heavenly Father in order to form those lovely and innumerable islands, we are filled with much of that feeling which induced the ancient king to exclaim, 'How manifold, O Lord, are Thy works! in wisdom hast Thou made them all.'" We all heartily agreed with the missionary in this sentiment, and felt not a little gratified to find that the opinions which Jack and I had been led to form from personal observation on our Coral Island were thus to a great extent corroborated. The missionary also gave us an account of the manner in which Christianity had been introduced among them. He said: "When missionaries were first sent here, three years ago, a small vessel brought them; and the chief, who is now dead, promised to treat well the two native teachers who were left with their wives on the island. But scarcely had the boat which landed them returned to the ship, than the natives began to maltreat their guests, taking away all they possessed, and offering them further violence, so that, when the boat was sent in haste to fetch them away, the clothes of both men and women were torn nearly off their backs. "Two years after this the vessel visited them again, and I, being in her, volunteered to land alone, without any goods whatever, begging that my wife might be brought to me the following year--that is, _this_ year; and, as you see, she is with me. But the surf was so high that the boat could not land me; so with nothing on but my trousers and shirt, and with a few catechisms and a Bible, besides some portions of the Scripture translated into the Mango tongue, I sprang into the sea, and swam ashore on the crest of a breaker. I was instantly dragged up the beach by the natives; who, on finding I had nothing worth having upon me, let me alone. I then made signs to my friends in the ship to leave me; which they did. At first the natives listened to me in silence, but laughed at what I said while I preached the Gospel of our blessed Saviour Jesus Christ to them. Afterwards they treated me ill sometimes; but I persevered, and continued to dwell among them, and dispute, and exhort them to give up their sinful ways of life, burn their idols, and come to Jesus. "About a month after I landed, I heard that the chief was dead. He was the father of the present chief, who is now a most consistent member of the Church. It is a custom here that when a chief dies his wives are strangled and buried with him. Knowing this, I hastened to his house to endeavour to prevent such cruelty if possible. When I arrived, I found two of the wives had already been killed, while another was in the act of being strangled. I pleaded hard for her, but it was too late; she was already dead. I then entreated the son to spare the fourth wife, and after much hesitation my prayer was granted; but in half-an-hour afterwards this poor woman repented of being unfaithful, as she termed it, to her husband, and insisted on being strangled; which was accordingly done. "All this time the chief's son was walking up and down before his father's house with a brow black as thunder. When he entered I went in with him, and found, to my surprise, that his father was _not_ dead! The old man was sitting on a mat in a corner, with an expression of placid resignation on his face. "'Why,' said I, 'have you strangled your father's wives before he is dead?' "To this the son replied, 'He is dead. That is no longer my father. He is as good as dead now. He is to be _buried alive_.' "I now remembered having heard that it is a custom among the Feejee Islanders, that when the reigning chief grows old or infirm, the heir to the chieftainship has a right to depose his father; in which case he is considered as dead, and is buried alive. The young chief was now about to follow this custom, and despite my earnest entreaties and pleadings, the old chief was buried that day before my eyes in the same grave with his four strangled wives! Oh, my heart groaned when I saw this! and I prayed to God to open the hearts of these poor creatures, as He had already opened mine, and pour into them the light and the love of the Gospel of Jesus. My prayer was answered very soon. A week afterwards, the son, who was now chief of the tribe, came to me, bearing his god on his shoulders, and groaning beneath its weight. Flinging it down at my feet, he desired me to burn it! "You may conceive how overjoyed I was at this. I sprang up and embraced him, while I shed tears of joy. Then we made a fire, and burned the god to ashes, amid an immense concourse of the people, who seemed terrified at what was being done, and shrank back when we burned the god, expecting some signal vengeance to be taken upon us; but seeing that nothing happened, they changed their minds, and thought that our God must be the true one after all. From that time the mission prospered steadily; and now, while there is not a single man in the tribe who has not burned his household gods and become a convert to Christianity, there are not a few, I hope, who are true followers of the Lamb, having been plucked as brands from the burning by Him who can save unto the uttermost. I will not tell you more of our progress at this time; but you see," he said, waving his hand around him, "the village and the church did not exist a year ago!" We were indeed much interested in this account, and I could not help again in my heart praying to God to prosper those missionary societies that send such inestimable blessings to these islands of dark and bloody idolatry. The teacher also added that the other tribes were very indignant at this one for having burned its gods, and threatened to destroy it altogether, but they had done nothing yet. "And if they should," said the teacher, "the Lord is on our side; of whom shall we be afraid?" "Have the missionaries many stations in these seas?" inquired Jack. "Oh yes. The London Missionary Society have a great many in the Tahiti group, and other islands in that quarter. Then the Wesleyans have the Feejee Islands all to themselves, and the Americans have many stations in other groups. But still, my friend, there are hundreds of islands here the natives of which have never heard of Jesus, or the good word of God, or the Holy Spirit; and thousands are living and dying in the practice of those terrible sins and bloody murders of which you have already heard. I trust, my friends," he added, looking earnestly into our faces--"I trust that if you ever return to England, you will tell your Christian friends that the horrors which they hear of in regard to these islands are _literally true,_ and that when they have heard the worst, the _'half has not been told them;'_ for there are perpetrated here foul deeds of darkness of which man may not speak. You may also tell them," he said, looking around with a smile, while a tear of gratitude trembled in his eye and rolled down his coal-black cheek--"tell them of the blessings that the Gospel has wrought _here_!" We assured our friend that we would certainly not forget his request. On returning towards the village, about noon, we remarked on the beautiful whiteness of the cottages. "That is owing to the lime with which they are plastered," said the teacher. "When the natives were converted, as I have described, I set them to work to build cottages for themselves, and also this handsome church which you see. When the framework and other parts of the house were up, I sent the people to fetch coral from the sea. They brought immense quantities. Then I made them cut wood, and piling the coral above it, set it on fire. "'Look! look!' cried the poor people in amazement, 'what wonderful people the Christians are! He is roasting stones. We shall not need taro or bread-fruit any more; we may eat stones!' "But their surprise was still greater when the coral was reduced to a fine, soft white powder. They immediately set up a great shout, and mingling the lime with water, rubbed their faces and their bodies all over with it, and ran through the village screaming with delight. They were also much surprised at another thing they saw me do. I wished to make some household furniture, and constructed a turning-lathe to assist me. The first thing that I turned was the leg of a sofa; which was no sooner finished than the chief seized it with wonder and delight, and ran through the village exhibiting it to the people, who looked upon it with great admiration. The chief then, tying a string to it, hung it round his neck as an ornament! He afterwards told me that if he had seen it before he became a Christian, he would have made it his god!" As the teacher concluded this anecdote we reached his door. Saying that he had business to attend to, he left us to amuse ourselves as we best could. "Now, lads," said Jack, turning abruptly towards us, and buttoning up his jacket as he spoke, "I'm off to see the battle. I've no particular fondness for seein' bloodshed, but I must find out the nature o' these fellows and see their customs with my own eyes, so that I may be able to speak of it again, if need be, authoritatively. It's only six miles off, and we don't run much more risk than that of getting a rap with a stray stone or an overshot arrow. Will you go?" "To be sure we will," said Peterkin. "If they chance to see us we'll cut and run for it," added Jack. "Dear me!" cried Peterkin--"_you_ run! I thought you would scorn to run from any one." "So I would, if it were my duty to fight," returned Jack coolly; "but as I don't want to fight, and don't intend to fight, if they offer to attack us I'll run away like the veriest coward that ever went by the name of Peterkin. So come along." Chapter XXXI A strange and bloody battle--The lion bearded in his den--Frightful scenes of cruelty, and fear for the future. We had ascertained from the teacher the direction to the spot on which the battle was to be fought, and after a walk of two hours, reached it. The summit of a bare hill was the place chosen; for, unlike most of the other islanders who are addicted to bush fighting, those of Mango are in the habit of meeting on open ground. We arrived before the two parties had commenced the deadly struggle, and, creeping as close up as we dared among the rocks, we lay and watched them. The combatants were drawn up face to face, each side ranged in rank four deep. Those in the first row were armed with long spears; the second with clubs to defend the spearmen; the third row was composed of young men with slings; and the fourth consisted of women, who carried baskets of stones for the slingers, and clubs and spears with which to supply the warriors. Soon after we arrived the attack was made with great fury. There was no science displayed. The two bodies of savages rushed headlong upon each other and engaged in a general _mêlée_, and a more dreadful set of men I have never seen. They wore grotesque war-caps made of various substances and decorated with feathers. Their faces and bodies were painted so as to make them look as frightful as possible; and as they brandished their massive clubs, leaped, shouted, jelled, and dashed each other to the ground, I thought I had never seen men look so like demons before. We were much surprised at the conduct of the women, who seemed to be perfect furies, and hung about the heels of their husbands in order to defend them. One stout young woman we saw whose husband was hard pressed and about to be overcome she lifted a large stone, and throwing it at his opponent's head, felled him to the earth. But the battle did not last long. The band most distant from us gave way and were routed, leaving eighteen of their comrades dead upon the field. These the victors brained as they lay; and, putting some of their brains on leaves, went off with them, we were afterwards informed, to their temples to present them to their gods as an earnest of the human victims who were soon to be brought there. We hastened back to the Christian village with feelings of the deepest sadness at the sanguinary conflict which we had just witnessed. Next day, after breakfasting with our friend the teacher, we made preparations for carrying out our plan. At first the teacher endeavoured to dissuade us. "You do not know," said he, turning to Jack, "the danger you run in venturing amongst these ferocious savages. I feel much pity for poor Avatea; but you are not likely to succeed in saving her, and you may die in the attempt." "Well," said Jack quietly, "I am not afraid to die in a good cause." The teacher smiled approvingly at him as he said this, and, after a little further conversation, agreed to accompany us as interpreter; saying that, although Tararo was unfriendly to him, he had hitherto treated him with respect. We now went on board the schooner, having resolved to sail round the island and drop anchor opposite the heathen village. We manned her with natives, and hoped to overawe the savages by displaying our brass gun to advantage. The teacher soon after came on board, and, setting our sails, we put to sea. In two hours more we made the cliffs reverberate with the crash of the big gun, which we fired by way of salute, while we ran the British ensign up to the peak and cast anchor. The commotion on shore showed us that we had struck terror into the hearts of the natives; but, seeing that we did not offer to molest them, a canoe at length put off and paddled cautiously towards us. The teacher showed himself, and, explaining that we were friends and wished to palaver with the chief, desired the native to go and tell him to come on board. We waited long and with much impatience for an answer. During this time the native teacher conversed with us again, and told us many things concerning the success of the Gospel among those islands; and, perceiving that we were by no means so much gratified as we ought to have been at the hearing of such good news, he pressed us more closely in regard to our personal interest in religion, and exhorted us to consider that our souls were certainly in as great danger as those of the wretched heathen whom we pitied so much, if we had not already found salvation in Jesus Christ. "Nay, further," he added, "if such be your unhappy case, you are, in the sight of God, much worse than these savages (forgive me, my young friends, for saying so): for they have no knowledge, no light, and do not profess to believe; while you, on the contrary, have been brought up in the light of the blessed Gospel, and call yourselves Christians. These poor savages are indeed the enemies of our Lord; but you, if ye be not true believers, are traitors!" I must confess that my heart condemned me while the teacher spoke in this earnest manner, and I knew not what to reply. Peterkin, too, did not seem to like it, and I thought would willingly have escaped. But Jack seemed deeply impressed, and wore an anxious expression on his naturally grave countenance; while he assented to the teacher's remarks, and put to him many earnest questions. Meanwhile, the natives who composed our crew, having nothing particular to do, had squatted down on the deck and taken out their little books containing the translated portions of the New Testament, along with hymns and spelling-books, and were now busily engaged, some vociferating the alphabet, others learning prayers off by heart, while a few sang hymns--all of them being utterly unmindful of our presence. The teacher soon joined them, and soon afterwards they all engaged in a prayer, which was afterwards translated to us, and proved to be a petition for the success of our undertaking, and for the conversion of the heathen. While we were thus engaged, a canoe put off from shore and several savages leaped on deck, one of whom advanced to the teacher and informed him that Tararo could not come on board that day, being busy with some religious ceremonies before the gods, which could on no account be postponed. He was also engaged with a friendly chief who was about to take his departure from the island, and therefore begged that the teacher and his friends would land and pay a visit to him. To this the teacher returned answer that we would land immediately. "Now, lads," said Jack, as we were about to step into our little boat, "I'm not going to take any weapons with me, and I recommend you to take none either. We are altogether in the power of these savages, and the utmost we could do, if they were to attack us, would be to kill a few of them before we were ourselves overpowered. I think that our only chance of success lies in mild measures; don't you think so?" To this I assented gladly, and Peterkin replied by laying down a huge bell-mouthed blunderbuss, and divesting himself of a pair of enormous horse-pistols with which he had purposed to overawe the natives! We then jumped into our boat and rowed ashore. On reaching the beach we were received by a crowd of naked savages, who shouted a rude welcome, and conducted us to a house or shed where a baked pig and a variety of vegetables were prepared for us. Having partaken of these, the teacher begged to be conducted to the chief; but there seemed some hesitation, and after some consultation among themselves one of the men stood forward and spoke to the teacher. "What says he?" inquired Jack when the savage had concluded. "He says that the chief is just going to the temple of his god and cannot see us yet; so we must be patient, my friend." "Well," cried Jack, rising, "if he won't come to see me, I'll e'en go and see him. Besides, I have a great desire to witness their proceedings at this temple of theirs. Will you go with me, friend?" "I cannot," said the teacher, shaking his head; "I must not go to the heathen temples and witness their inhuman rites, except for the purpose of condemning their wickedness and folly." "Very good," returned Jack; "then I'll go alone, for I cannot condemn their doings till I have seen them." Jack arose, and we, having determined to go also, followed him through the banana groves to a rising ground immediately behind the village, on the top of which stood the Buré, or temple, under the dark shade of a group of iron-wood trees. As we went through the village, I was again led to contrast the rude huts and sheds and their almost naked, savage-looking inhabitants with the natives of the Christian village, who, to use the teacher's scriptural expression, were now "clothed and in their right mind." As we turned into a broad path leading towards the hill, we were arrested by the shouts of an approaching multitude in the rear. Drawing aside into the bushes, we awaited their coming up, and as they drew near we observed that it was a procession of the natives, many of whom were dancing and gesticulating in the most frantic manner. They had an exceedingly hideous aspect, owing to the black, red, and yellow paints with which their faces and naked bodies were bedaubed. In the midst of these came a band of men carrying three or four planks, on which were seated in rows upwards of a dozen men. I shuddered involuntarily as I recollected the sacrifice of human victims at the island of Emo, and turned with a look of fear to Jack as I said-- "O Jack! I have a terrible dread that they are going to commit some of their cruel practices on these wretched men. We had better not go to the temple. We shall only be horrified without being able to do any good, for I fear they are going to kill them." Jack's face wore an expression of deep compassion as he said in a low voice, "No fear, Ralph; the sufferings of these poor fellows are over long ago." I turned with a start as he spoke, and glancing at the men, who were now quite near to the spot where we stood, saw that they were all dead. They were tied firmly with ropes in a sitting posture on the planks, and seemed, as they bent their sightless eyeballs and grinning mouths over the dancing crew below, as if they were laughing in ghastly mockery at the utter inability of their enemies to hurt them now. These, we discovered afterwards, were the men who had been slain in the battle of the previous day, and were now on their way to be first presented to the gods and then eaten, Behind these came two men leading between them a third, whose hands were pinioned behind his back. He walked with a firm step, and wore a look of utter indifference on his face as they led him along; so that we concluded he must be a criminal who was about to receive some slight punishment for his faults. The rear of the procession was brought up by a shouting crowd of women and children, with whom we mingled and followed to the temple. Here we arrived in a few minutes. The temple was a tall circular building, open at one side. Around it were strewn heaps of human bones and skulls. At a table inside sat the priest, an elderly man with a long grey beard. He was seated on a stool, and before him lay several knives, made of wood, bone, and splinters of bamboo, with which he performed his office of dissecting dead bodies. Farther in lay a variety of articles that had been dedicated to the god, and among them were many spears and clubs. I observed among the latter some with human teeth sticking in them, where the victims had been clubbed in their mouths. Before this temple the bodies, which were painted with vermilion and soot, were arranged in a sitting posture; and a man called a "dan-vosa" (orator), advanced, and laying his hands on their heads, began to chide them, apparently in a low, bantering tone. What he said we knew not, but as he went on he waxed warm, and at last shouted to them at the top of his lungs, and finally finished by kicking the bodies over and running away, amid the shouts and laughter of the people, who now rushed forward. Seizing the bodies by a leg or an arm, or by the hair of the head, they dragged them over stumps and stones and through sloughs until they were exhausted. The bodies were then brought back to the temple and dissected by the priest, after which they were taken out to be baked. Close to the temple a large fire was kindled, in which stones were heated red hot. When ready these were spread out on the ground, and a thick coating of leaves strewn over them to slack the heat. On this "lovo," or oven, the bodies were then placed, covered over, and left to bake. The crowd now ran with terrible yells towards a neighbouring hill or mound, on which we observed the framework of a house lying ready to be erected. Sick with horror, yet fascinated by curiosity, we staggered after them mechanically, scarce knowing where we were going or what we did, and feeling a sort of impression that all we saw was a dreadful dream. Arrived at the place, we saw the multitude crowding round a certain spot. We pressed forward and obtained a sight of what they were doing. A large wooden beam or post lay on the ground, beside the other parts of the frame-work of the house, and close to the end of it was a hole about seven feet deep and upwards of two feet wide. While we looked, the man whom we had before observed with his hands pinioned was carried into the circle. His hands were now free, but his legs were tightly strapped together. The post of the house was then placed in the hole, and the man put in beside it. His head was a good way below the surface of the hole, and his arms were clasped round the post. Earth was now thrown in until all was covered over and stamped down; and this, we were afterwards told, was a ceremony usually performed at the dedication of a new temple or the erection of a chiefs house! "Come, come," cried Jack, on beholding this horrible tragedy; "we have seen enough, enough--far more than enough! Let us go." Jack's face looked ghastly pale and haggard as we hurried back to rejoin the teacher, and I have no doubt that he felt terrible anxiety when he considered the number and ferocity of the savages, and the weakness of the few arms which were ready indeed to essay, but impotent to effect, Avatea's deliverance from these ruthless men. Chapter XXXII An unexpected discovery, and a bold, reckless defiance, with its consequences--Plans of escape, and heroic resolve. When we returned to the shore and related to our friend what had passed, he was greatly distressed, and groaned in spirit; but we had not sat long in conversation, when we were interrupted by the arrival of Tararo on the beach, accompanied by a number of followers bearing baskets of vegetables and fruits on their heads. We advanced to meet him, and he expressed, through our interpreter, much pleasure in seeing us. "And what is it that my friends wish to say to me?" he inquired. The teacher explained that we came to beg that Avatea might be spared. "Tell him," said Jack, "that I consider that I have a right to ask this of him, having not only saved the girl's life, but the lives of his own people also; and say that I wish her to be allowed to follow her own wishes, and join the Christians." While this was being translated, the chiefs brow lowered, and we could see plainly that our request met with no favourable reception. He replied with considerable energy, and at some length. "What says he?" inquired Jack. "I regret to say that he will not listen to the proposal. He says he has pledged his word to his friend that the girl shall be sent to him, and a deputy is even now on this island awaiting the fulfilment of the pledge." Jack bit his lip in suppressed anger. "Tell Tararo," he exclaimed with a flashing eye, "that if he does not grant my demand it will be worse for him. Say I have a big gun on board my schooner that will blow his village into the sea, if he does not give up the girl." "Nay, my friend," said the teacher gently, "I will not tell him that; we must 'overcome evil with good.'" "What does my friend say?" inquired the chief, who seemed nettled by Jack's looks of defiance. "He is displeased," replied the teacher. Tararo turned away with a smile of contempt, and walked towards the men who carried the baskets of vegetables, and who had now emptied the whole on the beach in an enormous pile. "What are they doing there?" I inquired. "I think that they are laying out a gift which they intend to present to some one," said the teacher. At this moment a couple of men appeared, leading a young girl between them, and, going towards the heap of fruits and vegetables, placed her on top of it. We started with surprise and fear, for in the young female before us we recognised the Samoan girl Avatea. We stood rooted to the earth with surprise and thick-coming fears. "Oh my dear young friend," whispered the teacher in a voice of deep emotion, while he seized Jack by the arm, "she is to be made a sacrifice even now!" "Is she?" cried Jack with a vehement shout, spurning the teacher aside, and dashing over two natives who stood in his way, while he rushed towards the heap, sprang up its side, and seized Avatea by the arm. In another moment he dragged her down, placed her back to a large tree, and, wrenching a war-club from the hand of a native who seemed powerless and petrified with surprise, whirled it above his head, and yelled, rather than shouted, while his face blazed with fury, "Come on, the whole nation of you, an ye like it, and do your worst!" It seemed as though the challenge had been literally accepted; for every savage on the ground ran precipitately at Jack with club and spear, and doubtless would speedily have poured out his brave blood on the sod, had not the teacher rushed in between them, and, raising his voice to its utmost, cried-- "Stay your hands, warriors! It is not your part to judge in this matter. It is for Tararo, the chief, to say whether or not the young man shall live, or die." The natives were arrested; and I know not whether it was the gratifying acknowledgment of his superiority thus made by the teacher, or some lingering feeling of gratitude for Jack's former aid in time of need, that influenced Tararo, but he stepped forward, and, waving his hand, said to his people, "Desist. The young man's life is mine." Then, turning to Jack, he said, "You have forfeited your liberty and life to me. Submit yourself, for we are more numerous than the sand upon the shore. You are but one; why should you die?" "Villain!" exclaimed Jack passionately, "I may die, but assuredly I shall not perish alone. I will not submit until you promise that this girl shall not be injured." "You are very bold," replied the chief haughtily, "but very foolish. Yet I will say that Avatea shall not be sent away--at least, for three days." "You had better accept these terms," whispered the teacher entreatingly. "If you persist in this mad defiance, you will be slain, and Avatea will be lost. Three days are worth having." Jack hesitated a moment, then lowered his club, and throwing it moodily to the ground, crossed his arms on his breast and hung down his head in silence. Tararo seemed pleased by his submission, and told the teacher to say that he did not forget his former services, and therefore would leave him free as to his person, but that the schooner would be detained till he had further considered the matter. While the teacher translated this, he approached as near to where Avatea was standing as possible, without creating suspicion, and whispered to her a few words in the native language. Avatea, who during the whole of the foregoing scene had stood leaning against the tree perfectly passive, and seemingly quite uninterested in all that was going on, replied by a single rapid glance of her dark eye, which was instantly cast down again on the ground at her feet. Tararo now advanced, and taking the girl by the hand, led her unresistingly away; while Jack, Peterkin, and I returned with the teacher on board the schooner. On reaching the deck, we went down to the cabin, where Jack threw himself, in a state of great dejection, on a couch; but the teacher seated himself by his side, and laying his hand upon his shoulder, said-- "Do not give way to anger, my young friend. God has given us three days, and we must use the means that are In our power to free this poor girl from slavery. We must not sit in idle disappointment, we must act--" "Act!" cried Jack, raising himself and tossing back his hair wildly; "it is mockery to talk of acting when one is bound hand and foot. How can I act? I cannot fight a whole nation of savages single-handed. Yes," he said with a bitter smile, "I _can_ fight them, but I cannot conquer them, or save Avatea." "Patience, my friend; your spirit is not a good one just now. You cannot expect that blessing which alone can ensure success unless you are more submissive. I will tell you my plans if you will listen." "Listen!" cried Jack eagerly: "of course I will, my good fellow; I did not know you had any plans. Out with them. I only hope you will show me how I can get the girl on board of this schooner, and I'd up anchor and away in no time. But proceed with your plans." The teacher smiled sadly. "Ah, my friend! if one fathom of your anchor chain were to rattle as you drew it in, a thousand warriors would be standing on your deck. No, no, that could not be done. Even now your ship would be taken from you were it not that Tararo has some feeling of gratitude towards you. But I know Tararo well. He is a man of falsehood, as all the unconverted savages are. The chief to whom he has promised this girl is very powerful, and Tararo _must_ fulfil his promise. He has told you that he would do nothing to the girl for three days, but that is because the party who are to take her away will not be ready to start for three days. Still, as he might have made you a prisoner during those three days, I say that God has given them to us." "Well, but what do you propose to do?" said Jack impatiently. "My plan involves much danger, but I see no other, and I think you have courage to brave it. It is this. There is an island about fifty miles to the south of this, the natives of which are Christians, and have been so for two years or more, and the principal chief is Avatea's lover. Once there, Avatea would be safe. Now, I suggest that you should abandon your schooner. Do you think that you can make so great a sacrifice?" "Friend," replied Jack, "when I make up my mind to go through with a thing of importance, I can make any sacrifice." The teacher smiled. "Well, then, the savages could not conceive it possible that for the sake of a girl you would voluntarily lose your fine vessel; therefore as long as she lies here they think they have you all safe: so I suggest that we get a quantity of stores conveyed to a sequestered part of the shore, provide a small canoe, put Avatea on board, and you three would paddle to the Christian island." "Bravo!" cried Peterkin, springing up and seizing the teacher's hand. "Missionary, you're a regular brick. I didn't think you had so much in you." "As for me," continued the teacher, "I will remain on board till they discover that you are gone. Then they will ask me where you are gone to, and I will refuse to tell." "And what'll be the result of that?" inquired Jack. "I know not. Perhaps they will kill me; but," he added, looking at Jack with a peculiar smile, "I, too, am not afraid to die in a good cause!" "But how are we to get hold of Avatea?" inquired Jack. "I have arranged with her to meet us at a particular spot, to which I will guide you to-night. We shall then arrange about it. She will easily manage to elude her keepers, who are not very strict in watching her, thinking it impossible that she could escape from the island. Indeed, I am sure that such an idea will never enter their heads. But, as I have said, you run great danger. Fifty miles in a small canoe, on the open sea, is a great voyage to make. You may miss the island, too, in which case there is no other in that direction for a hundred miles or more; and if you lose your way and fall among other heathens, you know the law of Feejee--a castaway who gains the shore is doomed to die. You must count the cost, my young friend." "I have counted it," replied Jack. "If Avatea consents to run the risk, most certainly I will; and so will my comrades also. Besides," added Jack, looking seriously into the teacher's face, "your Bible--_our_ Bible--tells of ONE who delivers those who call on Him in the time of trouble; who holds the winds in His fists, and the waters in the hollow of His hand." We now set about active preparations for the intended voyage; collected together such things as we should require, and laid out on the deck provisions sufficient to maintain us for several weeks, purposing to load the canoe with as much as she could hold consistently with speed and safety. These we covered with a tarpaulin, intending to convey them to the canoe only a few hours before starting. When night spread her sable curtain over the scene, we prepared to land; but first kneeling along with the natives and the teacher, the latter implored a blessing on our enterprise. Then we rowed quietly to the shore and followed our sable guide, who led us by a long detour, in order to avoid the village, to the place of rendezvous. We had not stood more than five minutes under the gloomy shade of the thick foliage when a dark figure glided noiselessly up to us. "Ah! here you are," said Jack, as Avatea approached.--"Now, then, tell her what we've come about, and don't waste time." "I understan' leetl English," said Avatea in a low voice. "Why, where did you pick up English?" exclaimed Jack in amazement; "you were dumb as a stone when I saw you last." "She has learned all she knows of it from me," said the teacher, "since she came to the island." We now gave Avatea a full explanation of our plans, entering into all the details, and concealing none of the danger, so that she might be fully aware of the risk she ran. As we had anticipated, she was too glad of the opportunity thus afforded her to escape from her persecutors to think of the danger or risk. "Then you're willing to go with us, are you?" said Jack. "Yis, I willing to go." "And you're not afraid to trust yourself out on the deep sea so far?" "No, I not 'fraid to go. Safe with Christian." After some further consultation, the teacher suggested that it was time to return, so we bade Avatea good-night, and having appointed to meet at the cliff where the canoe lay on the following night, just after dark, we hastened away--we to row on board the schooner with muffled oars, Avatea to glide back to her prison-hut among the Mango savages. Chapter XXXIII The flight--The pursuit--Despair and its results--The lion bearded in his den again--Awful danger threatened and wonderfully averted--A terrific storm. As the time for our meditated flight drew near, we became naturally very fearful lest our purpose should be discovered, and we spent the whole of the following day in a state of nervous anxiety. We resolved to go ashore and ramble about the village, as if to observe the habits and dwellings of the people, as we thought that an air of affected indifference to the events of the previous day would be more likely than any other course of conduct to avert suspicion as to our intentions. While we were thus occupied, the teacher remained on board with the Christian natives, whose powerful voices reached us ever and anon as they engaged in singing hymns or in prayer. At last the long and tedious day came to a close, the sun sank into the sea, and the short-lived twilight of those regions, to which I have already referred, ended abruptly in a dark night. Hastily throwing a few blankets into our little boat, we stepped into it, and whispering farewell to the natives in the schooner, rowed gently over the lagoon, taking care to keep as near to the beach as possible. We rowed in the utmost silence, and with muffled oars, so that had any one observed us at the distance of a few yards, he might have almost taken us for a phantom-boat, or a shadow on the dark water. Not a breath of air was stirring; but, fortunately, the gentle ripple of the sea upon the shore, mingled with the soft roar of the breaker on the distant reef, effectually drowned the slight plash that we unavoidably made in the water by the dipping of our oars. A quarter of an hour sufficed to bring us to the overhanging cliff under whose black shadow our little canoe lay, with her bow in the water ready to be launched, and most of her cargo already stowed away. As the keel of our little boat grated on the sand, a hand was laid upon the bow, and a dim form was seen. "Ha!" said Peter kin in a whisper, as he stepped upon the beach, "is that you, Avatea?" "Yis, it am me," was the reply. "All right! Now, then, gently. Help me to shove off the canoe," whispered Jack to the teacher; "and, Peterkin, do you shove these blankets aboard--we may want them before long. Avatea, step into the middle--that's right." "Is all ready?" whispered the teacher. "Not quite," replied Peterkin.--"Here, Ralph, lay hold o' this pair of oars, and stow them away if you can. I don't like paddles. After we're safe away I'll try to rig up rollicks for them." "Now, then, in with you and shove off." One more earnest squeeze of the kind teacher's hand, and with his whispered blessing yet sounding in our ears, we shot like an arrow from the shore, sped over the still waters of the lagoon, and paddled as swiftly as strong arms and willing hearts could urge us over the long swell of the open sea. All that night and the whole of the following day we plied our paddles in almost total silence and without a halt, save twice to recruit our failing energies with a mouthful of food and a draught of water. Jack had taken the bearing of the island just after starting, and, laying a small pocket-compass before him, kept the head of the canoe due south, for our chance of hitting the island depended very much on the faithfulness of our steersman in keeping our tiny bark exactly and constantly on its proper course. Peterkin and I paddled in the bow, and Avatea worked untiringly in the middle. As the sun's lower limb dipped on the gilded edge of the sea, Jack ceased working, threw down his paddle, and called a halt. "There!" he cried, heaving a deep, long-drawn sigh, "we've put a considerable breadth of water between us and these black rascals, so now we'll have a hearty supper and a sound sleep." "Heat, hear!" cried Peterkin. "Nobly spoken, Jack.--Hand me a drop of water, Ralph.--Why, girl, what's wrong with you? You look just like a black owl blinking in the sunshine." Avatea smiled. "I sleepy," she said; and as if to prove the truth of this, she laid her head on the edge of the canoe and fell fast asleep. "That's uncommon sharp practice," said Peterkin with a broad grin. "Don't you think we should awake her to make her eat something first? Or perhaps," he added, with a grave, meditative look--"perhaps we might put some food in her mouth, which is so elegantly open at the present moment, and see if she'd swallow it while asleep. If so, Ralph, you might come round to the front here and feed her quietly, while Jack and I are tucking into the victuals. It would be a monstrous economy of time." I could not help smiling at Peterkin's idea, which indeed, when I pondered it, seemed remarkably good in theory; nevertheless I declined to put it in practice, being fearful of the result should the victual chance to go down the wrong throat. But on suggesting this to Peterkin, he exclaimed-- "Down the wrong throat, man! why, a fellow with half an eye might see that if it went down Avatea's throat it could not go down the wrong throat!--unless, indeed, you have all of a sudden become inordinately selfish, and think that all the throats in the world are wrong ones except your own. However, don't talk so much, and hand me the pork before Jack finishes it. I feel myself entitled to at least one minute morsel." "Peterkin, you're a villain--a paltry little villain," said Jack quietly, as he tossed the hind-legs (including the tail) of a cold roast pig to his comrade; "and I must again express my regret that unavoidable circumstances have thrust your society upon me, and that necessity has compelled me to cultivate your acquaintance. Were it not that you are incapable of walking upon the water, I would order you, sir, out of the canoe." "There! you've awakened Avatea with your long tongue," retorted Peterkin with a frown, as the girl gave vent to a deep sigh. "No," he continued, "it was only a snore. Perchance she dreameth of her black Apollo.--I say, Ralph, do leave just one little slice of that yam. Between you and Jack I run a chance of being put on short allowance, if not--yei--a--a--ow!" Peterkin's concluding remark was a yawn of so great energy that Jack recommended him to postpone the conclusion of his meal till next morning--a piece of advice which he followed so quickly that I was forcibly reminded of his remark, a few minutes before, in regard to the sharp practice of Avatea. My readers will have observed, probably, by this time that I am much given to meditation; they will not, therefore, be surprised to learn that I fell into a deep reverie on the subject of sleep, which was continued without intermission into the night, and prolonged without interruption into the following morning. But I cannot feel assured that I actually slept during that time, although I am tolerably certain that I was not awake. Thus we lay like a shadow on the still bosom of the ocean, while the night closed in, and all around was calm, dark, and silent. A thrilling cry of alarm from Peterkin startled us in the morning, just as the grey dawn began to glimmer in the east. "What's wrong?" cried Jack, starting up. Peterkin replied by pointing with a look of anxious dread towards the horizon; and a glance sufficed to show us that one of the largest-sized war-canoes was approaching us! With a groan of mingled despair and anger Jack seized his paddle, glanced at the compass, and in a suppressed voice commanded us to "give way." But we did not require to be urged. Already our four paddles were glancing in the water, and the canoe bounded over the glassy sea like a dolphin, while a shout from our pursuers told that they had observed our motions. "I see something like land ahead," said Jack in a hopeful tone. "It seems impossible that we could have made the island yet; still, if it is so, we may reach it before these fellows can catch us, for our canoe is light and our muscles are fresh." No one replied; for, to say truth, we felt that in a long chase we had no chance whatever with a canoe which held nearly a hundred warriors. Nevertheless, we resolved to do our utmost to escape, and paddled with a degree of vigour that kept us well in advance of our pursuers. The war-canoe was so far behind us that it seemed but a little speck on the sea, and the shouts, to which the crew occasionally gave vent, came faintly towards us on the morning breeze. We therefore hoped that we should be able to keep in advance for an hour or two, when we might perhaps reach the land ahead. But this hope was suddenly crushed by the supposed land not long after rising up into the sky, thus proving itself to be a fog-bank! A bitter feeling of disappointment filled each heart, and was expressed on each countenance, as we beheld this termination to our hopes. But we had little time to think of regret. Our danger was too great and imminent to permit of a moment's relaxation from our exertions. No hope now animated our bosoms; but a feeling of despair, strange to say, lent us power to work, and nerved our arms with such energy that it was several hours ere the savages overtook us. When we saw that there was indeed no chance of escape, and that paddling any longer would only serve to exhaust our strength, without doing any good, we turned the side of our canoe towards the approaching enemy, and laid down our paddles. Silently, and with a look of bitter determination on his face, Jack lifted one of the light boat-oars that we had brought with us, and resting it on his shoulder, stood up in an attitude of bold defiance. Peterkin took the other oar and also stood up, but there was no anger visible on his countenance. When not sparkling with fun, it usually wore a mild, sad expression, which was deepened on the present occasion, as he glanced at Avatea, who sat with her face resting in her hands upon her knees. Without knowing very well what I intended to do, I also arose and grasped my paddle with both hands. On came the large canoe like a war-horse of the deep, with the foam curling from its sharp bow, and the spearheads of the savages glancing in the beams of the rising sun. Perfect silence was maintained on both sides, and we could hear the hissing water, and see the frowning eyes of the warriors, as they came rushing on. When about twenty yards distant, five or six of the savages in the bow rose, and, laying aside their paddles, took up their spears. Jack and Peterkin raised their oars, while, with a feeling of madness whirling in my brain, I grasped my paddle and prepared for the onset. But before any of us could strike a blow, the sharp prow of the war-canoe struck us like a thunderbolt on the side, and hurled us into the sea! What occurred after this I cannot tell, for I was nearly drowned; but when I recovered from the state of insensibility into which I had been thrown, I found myself stretched on my back, bound hand and foot between Jack and Peterkin, in the bottom of the large canoe. In this condition we lay the whole day, during which time the savages only rested one hour. When night came, they rested again for another hour, and appeared to sleep just as they sat. But we were neither unbound nor allowed to speak to each other during the voyage, nor was a morsel of food or a draught of water given to us. For food, however, we cared little; but we would have given much for a drop of water to cool our parched lips, and we would have been glad, too, had they loosened the cords that bound us, for they were tightly fastened and occasioned us much pain. The air, also, was unusually hot, so much so that I felt convinced that a storm was brewing. This also added to our sufferings. However, these were at length relieved by our arrival at the island from which we had fled. While we were being led ashore, we caught a glimpse of Avatea, who was seated in the hinder part of the canoe. She was not fettered in any way. Our captors now drove us before them towards the hut of Tararo, at which we speedily arrived, and found the chief seated with an expression on his face that boded us no good. Our friend the teacher stood beside him, with a look of anxiety on his mild features. "How comes it," said Tararo, turning to the teacher, "that these youths have abused our hospitality?" "Tell him," replied Jack, "that we have not abused his hospitality, for his hospitality has not been extended to us. I came to the island to deliver Avatea, and my only regret is that I have failed to do so. If I get another chance, I will try to save her yet." The teacher shook his head. "Nay, my young friend, I had better not tell him that; it will only incense him." "I care not," replied Jack. "If you don't tell him that, you'll tell him nothing, for I won't say anything softer." On hearing Jack's speech, Tararo frowned and his eye flashed with anger. "Go," he said, "presumptuous boy. My debt to you is cancelled. You and your companions shall die." As he spoke he rose and signed to several of his attendants, who seized Jack and Peterkin and me violently by the collars, and dragging us from the hut of the chief, led us through the wood to the outskirts of the village. Here they thrust us into a species of natural cave in a cliff, and having barricaded the entrance, left us in total darkness. After feeling about for some time--for our legs were unshackled, although our wrists were still bound with thongs--we found a low ledge of rock running along one side of the cavern. On this we seated ourselves, and for a long time maintained unbroken silence. At last I could restrain my feelings no longer. "Alas! dear Jack and Peterkin," said I, "what is to become of us?--I fear that we are doomed to die." "I know not," replied Jack in a tremulous voice, "I know not. Ralph, I regret deeply the hastiness of my violent temper, which, I must confess, has been the chief cause of our being brought to this sad condition. Perhaps the teacher may do something for us. But I have little hope." "Ah no!" said Peterkin with a heavy sigh, "I am sure he can't help us. Tararo doesn't care more for him than for one of his dogs." "Truly," said I, "there seems no chance of deliverance, unless the Almighty puts forth His arm to save us. Yet I must say that I have great hope, my comrades; for we have come to this dark place by no fault of ours--unless it be a fault to try to succour a woman in distress." I was interrupted in my remarks by a noise at the entrance to the cavern, which was caused by the removal of the barricade. Immediately after, three men entered, and taking us by the collars of our coats, led us away through the forest. As we advanced, we heard much shouting and beating of native drums in the village, and at first we thought that our guards were conducting us to the hut of Tararo again. But in this we were mistaken. The beating of drums gradually increased, and soon after we observed a procession of the natives coming towards us. At the head of this procession we were placed, and then we all advanced together towards the temple where human victims were wont to be sacrificed! A thrill of horror ran through my heart as I recalled to mind the awful scenes that I had before witnessed at that dreadful spot. But deliverance came suddenly from a quarter whence we little expected it. During the whole of that day there had been an unusual degree of heat in the atmosphere, and the sky assumed that lurid aspect which portends a thunder-storm. Just as we were approaching the horrid temple, a growl of thunder burst overhead and heavy drops of rain began to fall. Those who have not witnessed gales and storms in tropical regions can form but a faint conception of the fearful hurricane that burst upon the island of Mango at this time. Before we reached the temple, the storm burst upon us with a deafening roar, and the natives, who knew too well the devastation that was to follow, fled right and left through the woods in order to save their property, leaving us alone in the midst of the howling storm. The trees around us bent before the blast like willows, and we were about to flee in order to seek shelter, when the teacher ran towards us with a knife in his hand. "Thank the Lord," he said, cutting our bonds, "I am in time! Now, seek the shelter of the nearest rock." This we did without a moment's hesitation, for the whistling wind burst, ever and anon, like thunder-claps among the trees, and tearing them from their roots, hurled them with violence to the ground. Rain cut across the land in sheets, and lightning played like forked serpents in the air, while high above the roar of the hissing tempest the thunder crashed and burst and rolled in awful majesty. In the village the scene was absolutely appalling. Roofs were blown completely off the houses in many cases, and in others the houses themselves were levelled with the ground. In the midst of this the natives were darting to and fro, in some instances saving their goods, but in many others seeking to save themselves from the storm of destruction that whirled around them. But terrific although the tempest was on land, it was still more tremendous on the mighty ocean. Billows sprang, as it were, from the great deep, and while their crests were absolutely scattered into white mist, they fell upon the beach with a crash that seemed to shake the solid land. But they did not end there. Each successive wave swept higher and higher on the beach, until the ocean lashed its angry waters among the trees and bushes, and at length, in a sheet of white curdled foam, swept into the village and upset and carried off, or dashed into wreck, whole rows of the native dwellings! It was a sublime, an awful scene, calculated, in some degree at least, to impress the mind of beholders with the might and majesty of God. We found shelter in a cave that night and all the next day, during which time the storm raged in fury; but on the night following it abated somewhat, and in the morning we went to the village to seek for food, being so famished with hunger that we lost all feeling of danger and all wish to escape in our desire to satisfy the cravings of nature. But no sooner had we obtained food than we began to wish that we had rather endeavoured to make our escape into the mountains. This we attempted to do soon afterwards; but the natives were now able to look after us, and on our showing a disposition to avoid observation and make towards the mountains, we were seized by three warriors, who once more bound our wrists and thrust us into our former prison. It is true Jack made a vigorous resistance, and knocked down the first savage who seized him with a well-directed blow of his fist, but he was speedily overpowered by others. Thus we were again prisoners, with the prospect of torture and a violent death before us. Chapter XXXIV Imprisonment--Sinking hopes--Unexpected freedom to more than one, and in more senses than one. For a long, long month we remained in our dark and dreary prison, during which dismal time we did not see the face of a human being, except that of the silent savage who brought us our daily food. There have been one or two seasons in my life during which I have felt as if the darkness of sorrow and desolation that crushed my inmost heart could never pass away until death should make me cease to feel. The present was such a season. During the first part of our confinement we felt a cold chill at our hearts every time we heard a footfall near the cave--dreading lest it should prove to be that of our executioner. But as time dragged heavily on, we ceased to feel this alarm, and began to experience such a deep, irrepressible longing for freedom, that we chafed and fretted in our confinement like tigers. Then a feeling of despair came over us, and we actually longed for the time when the savages would take us forth to die! But these changes took place very gradually, and were mingled sometimes with brighter thoughts; for there were times when we sat in that dark cavern on our ledge of rock and conversed almost pleasantly about the past, until we well-nigh forgot the dreary present. But we seldom ventured to touch upon the future. A few decayed leaves and boughs formed our bed, and a scanty supply of yams and taro, brought to us once a day, constituted our food. "Well, Ralph, how have you slept?" said Jack in a listless tone, on rising one morning from his humble couch. "Were you much disturbed by the wind last night?" "No," said I; "I dreamed of home all night, and I thought that my mother smiled upon me, and beckoned me to go to her; but I could not, for I was chained." "And I dreamed, too," said Peterkin; "but it was of our happy home on the Coral Island. I thought we were swimming in the Water Garden; then the savages gave a yell, and we were immediately in the cave at Spouting Cliff, which, somehow or other, changed into this gloomy cavern; and I awoke to find it true." Peterkin's tone was so much altered by the depressing influence of his long imprisonment that, had I not known it was he who spoke, I should scarcely have recognised it, so sad was it, and so unlike to the merry, cheerful voice we had been accustomed to hear. I pondered this much, and thought of the terrible decline of happiness that may come on human beings in so short a time; how bright the sunshine in the sky at one time, and in a short space how dark the overshadowing cloud! I had no doubt that the Bible would have given me much light and comfort on this subject, if I had possessed one, and I once more had occasion to regret deeply having neglected to store my memory with its consoling truths. While I meditated thus, Peterkin again broke the silence of the cave by saying, in a melancholy tone, "Oh, I wonder if we shall ever see our dear island more!" His voice trembled, and covering his face with both hands, he bent down his head and wept. It was an unusual sight for me to see our once joyous companion in tears, and I felt a burning desire to comfort him; but alas! what could I say? I could hold out no hope; and although I essayed twice to speak, the words refused to pass my lips. While I hesitated, Jack sat down beside him, and whispered a few words in his ear; while Peterkin threw himself on his friend's breast, and rested his head on his shoulder. Thus we sat for some time in deep silence. Soon after we heard footsteps at the entrance of the cave, and immediately our jailer entered. We were so much accustomed to his regular visits, however, that we paid little attention to him, expecting that he would set down our meagre fare, as usual, and depart. But to our surprise, instead of doing so, he advanced towards us with a knife in his hand, and, going up to Jack, he cut the thongs that bound his wrists, then he did the same to Peterkin and me! For fully five minutes we stood in speechless amazement, with our freed hands hanging idly by our sides. The first thought that rushed into my mind was that the time had come to put us to death; and although, as I have said before, we actually wished for death in the strength of our despair, now that we thought it drew really near, I felt all the natural love of life revive in my heart, mingled with a chill of horror at the suddenness of our call. But I was mistaken. After cutting our bonds, the savage pointed to the cave's mouth, and we marched, almost mechanically, into the open air. Here, to our surprise, we found the teacher standing under a tree, with his hands clasped before him, and the tears trickling down his dark cheeks. On seeing Jack, who came out first, he sprang towards him, and, clasping him in his arms, exclaimed--"Oh, my dear young friend, through the great goodness of God you are free!" "Free?" cried Jack. "Ay, free," repeated the teacher, shaking us warmly by the hands again and again--"free to go and come as you will. The Lord has unloosed the bonds of the captive, and set the prisoners free, A missionary has been sent to us, and Tararo has embraced the Christian religion! The people are even now burning their gods of wood! Come, my dear friends, and see the glorious sight." We could scarcely credit our senses. So long had we been accustomed in our cavern to dream of deliverance, that we imagined for a moment this must surely be nothing more than another vivid dream. Our eyes and minds were dazzled, too, by the brilliant sunshine, which almost blinded us after our long confinement to the gloom of our prison, so that we felt giddy with the variety of conflicting emotions that filled our throbbing bosoms; but as we followed the footsteps of our sable friend, and beheld the bright foliage of the trees, and heard the cries of the paroquets, and smelt the rich perfume of the flowering shrubs, the truth, that we were really delivered from prison and from death, rushed with overwhelming power into our souls, and with one accord, while tears sprang to our eyes, we uttered a loud, long cheer of joy. It was replied to by a shout from a number of the natives who chanced to be near. Running towards us, they shook us by the hand with every demonstration of kindly feeling. They then fell behind, and forming a sort of procession, conducted us to the dwelling of Tararo. The scene that met our eyes here was one that I shall never forget. On a rude bench in front of his house sat the chief. A native stood on his left hand, who from his dress seemed to be a teacher. On his right stood an English gentleman, who I at once and rightly concluded was a missionary. He was tall, thin, and apparently past forty, with a bald forehead and thin grey hair. The expression of his countenance was the most winning I ever saw, and his clear grey eye beamed with a look that was frank, fearless, loving, and truthful. In front of the chief was an open space, in the centre of which lay a pile of wooden idols, ready to be set on fire; and around these were assembled thousands of natives, who had come to join in or to witness the unusual sight. A bright smile overspread the missionary's face as he advanced quickly to meet us, and he shook us warmly by the hands. "I am overjoyed to meet you, my dear young friends," he said. "My friend and _your_ friend, the teacher, has told me your history; and I thank our Father in heaven, with all my heart, that He has guided me to this island, and made me the instrument of saving you." We thanked the missionary most heartily, and asked him in some surprise how he had succeeded in turning the heart of Tararo in our favour. "I will tell you that at a more convenient time," he answered; "meanwhile we must not forget the respect due to the chief. He waits to receive you." In the conversation that immediately followed between us and Tararo, the latter said that the light of the Gospel of Jesus Christ had been sent to the island, and that to it we were indebted for our freedom. Moreover, he told us that we were at liberty to depart in our schooner whenever we pleased, and that we should be supplied with as much provision as we required. He concluded by shaking hands with us warmly, and performing the ceremony of rubbing noses. This was indeed good news to us, and we could hardly find words to express our gratitude to the chief and to the missionary. "And what of Avatea?" inquired Jack. The missionary replied by pointing to a group of natives in the midst of whom the girl stood. Beside her was a tall, strapping fellow, whose noble mien and air of superiority bespoke him a chief of no ordinary kind. "That youth is her lover. He came this very morning in his war-canoe to treat with Tararo for Avatea. He is to be married in a few days, and afterwards returns to his island home with his bride!" "That's capital," said Jack, as he stepped up to the savage and gave him a hearty shake of the hand. "I wish you joy, my lad; and you too, Avatea." As Jack spoke, Avatea's lover took him by the hand and led him to the spot where Tararo and the missionary stood, surrounded by most of the chief men of the tribe. The girl herself followed, and stood on his left hand while her lover stood on his right, and, commanding silence, made the following speech, which was translated by the missionary:-- "Young friend, you have seen few years, but your head is old. Your heart also is large and very brave. I and Avatea are your debtors, and we wish, in the midst of this assembly, to acknowledge our debt, and to say that it is one which we can never repay. You have risked your life for one who was known to you only for a few days. But she was a woman in distress, and that was enough to secure to her the aid of a Christian man. We, who live in these islands of the sea, know that the true Christians always act thus. Their religion is one of love and kindness. We thank God that so many Christians have been sent here; we hope many more will come. Remember that I and Avatea will think of you and pray for you and your brave comrades when you are far away." To this kind speech Jack returned a short, sailor-like reply, in which he insisted that he had only done for Avatea what he would have done for any woman under the sun. But Jack's forte did not lie in speech-making, so he terminated rather abruptly by seizing the chief's hand and shaking it violently, after which he made a hasty retreat. "Now then, Ralph and Peterkin," said Jack, as we mingled with the crowd, "it seems to me that the object we came here for having been satisfactorily accomplished, we have nothing more to do but get ready for sea as fast as we can, and hurrah for dear old England!" "That's my idea precisely," said Peterkin, endeavouring to wink; but he had wept so much of late, poor fellow, that he found it difficult. "However, I'm not going away till I see these fellows burn their gods." Peterkin had his wish, for in a few minutes afterwards fire was put to the pile, the roaring flames ascended, and amid the acclamations of the assembled thousands the false gods of Mango were reduced to ashes! Chapter XXXV CONCLUSION To part is the lot of all mankind. The world is a scene of constant leave-taking, and the hands that grasp in cordial greeting to-day are doomed ere long to unite for the last time, when the quivering lips pronounce the word--"Farewell." It is a sad thought, but should we on that account exclude it from our minds? May not a lesson worth learning be gathered in the contemplation of it? May it not, perchance, teach us to devote our thoughts more frequently and attentively to that land where we meet, but part no more? How many do we part from in this world with a light good-bye whom we never see again! Often do I think, in my meditations on this subject, that if we realised more fully the shortness of the fleeting intercourse that we have in this world with many of our fellow-men, we would try more earnestly to do them good, to give them a friendly smile, as it were, in passing (for the longest intercourse on earth is little more than a passing word and glance), and show that we have sympathy with them in the short, quick struggle of life, by our kindly words and looks and actions. The time soon drew near when we were to quit the islands of the South Seas; and strange though it may appear, we felt deep regret at parting with the natives of the island of Mango: for after they embraced the Christian faith, they sought, by showing us the utmost kindness, to compensate for the harsh treatment we had experienced at their hands: and we felt a growing affection for the native teachers and the missionary, and especially for Avatea and her husband. Before leaving we had many long and interesting conversations with the missionary, in one of which he told us that he had been making for the island of Rarotonga, when his native-built sloop was blown out of its course, during a violent gale, and driven to this island. At first the natives refused to listen to what he had to say; but after a week's residence among them, Tararo came to him and said that he wished to become a Christian, and would burn his idols. He proved himself to be sincere, for, as we have seen, he persuaded all his people to do likewise. I use the word "persuaded" advisedly; for, like all the other Feejee chiefs, Tararo was a despot, and might have commanded obedience to his wishes; but he entered so readily into the spirit of the new faith, that he perceived at once the impropriety of using constraint in the propagation of it. He set the example, therefore; and that example was followed by almost every man of the tribe. During the short time that we remained at the island, repairing our vessel and getting her ready for sea, the natives had commenced building a large and commodious church, under the superintendence of the missionary, and several rows of new cottages were marked out; so that the place bid fair to become, in a few months, as prosperous and beautiful as the Christian village at the other end of the island. After Avatea was married, she and her husband were sent away loaded with presents, chiefly of an edible nature. One of the native teachers went with them, for the purpose of visiting still more distant islands of the sea, and spreading, if possible, the light of the glorious Gospel there. As the missionary intended to remain for several weeks longer, in order to encourage and confirm his new converts, Jack and Peterkin and I held a consultation in the cabin of our schooner--which we found just as we had left her, for everything that had been taken out of her was restored. We now resolved to delay our departure no longer. The desire to see our beloved native land was strong upon us, and we could not wait. Three natives volunteered to go with us to Tahiti, where we thought it likely that we should be able to procure a sufficient crew of sailors to man our vessel, so we accepted their offer gladly. It was a bright, clear morning when we hoisted the snow-white sails of the pirate schooner and left the shores of Mango. The missionary and thousands of the natives came down to bid us God-speed, and to see us sail away. As the vessel bent before a light, fair wind, we glided quickly over the lagoon under a cloud of canvas. Just as we passed through the channel in the reef the natives gave us a loud cheer; and as the missionary waved his hat, while he stood on a coral rock with his grey hairs floating in the wind, we heard the single word "Farewell" borne faintly over the sea. That night, as we sat on the taffrail gazing out upon the wide sea and up into the starry firmament, a thrill of joy, strangely mixed with sadness, passed through our hearts; for we were at length "homeward bound," and were gradually leaving far behind us the beautiful, bright green coral islands of the Pacific Ocean. THE END