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TITLE DERRICELLARERATE VIELUM SPEELTENUMEETRESPITERTE
AUNTY...
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Eddie Beecher
Hubbard
Imag. Voy.
PR
5499
$2
Ca
1864
KOUT MA


• WORK SE.
THE SKIPS AT SEA.

The Rival
CRUSOES.


By
AGNES STRICKLAND.

NEW YORK:
BLAKEMAN & MASON.
THE
RIVAL CRUSOES;
OR,
THE SHIPWRECK,
AND DESERT ISLAND.
BY
AGNES STRICKLAND,
AUTHOR OF THE "LIVES OF THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND," "TALES
AND STORIES FROM HISTORY," ETC.
FROM THE SIXTH LONDON EDITION.
New York:
BLAKEMAN
& MASON,
21 MURRAY STREET.
1864.
Hubbard
Imaginary Voyages
Mrs. Hug!
giftigh Keeler
6-17-65

CONTENTS.
I. LORD ROBERT AND PHILIP HARLEY
II. THE MAN OF WAR
III. THE STORM.
IV. THE DESERT ISLAND
V. RIVALRY
VI. SICKNESS
VII. RECONCILIATION
VIII. A PRIZE.
IX. RESCUE.
X. A SURPRISE
XL. CONCLUSION
•
•
PAGE.
5
18
36
49
63
77
92
. 114
125
133
146
•
•
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
I.
LORD ROBERT AND PHILIP HARLEY.
GEORGE! Harry!-lazy fellows that
you are!-Why are you not in attend-
ance?" said Lord Robert Summers in an an-
gry tone, throwing the rein of his pony to his
grooms, and rushing up the great staircase
with his handkerchief held close to his face.
((
"What is the matter with our young lord
to-day?" said Harry; "he seems in a mar-
vellous ill mood."
"I suppose he has had another brush with
Philip Harley to-day: did not you see the
blood on his handkerchief?" said the other.
"That Philip is a saucy young rascal," re-
plied Harry; but he will get himself into a
scrape before long. Lord Robert will be
1*
6
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
even with him, I will answer; for he never
takes an offence without returning twenty-
fold."
"They never meet now without a battle,'
returned the groom. "Lord Robert has been
so used to domineer over men twice his age,
on board ship, that he is more unbearable
than any young man of rank I ever served.
I wonder who is to put up with all his tem-
pers? If his elder brother, my young lord,
were half so hasty with his hands, or so flip-
pant with his tongue, I would leave his service
to-morrow: however, he won't be with us long
-that's my comfort. It was but the other
day I was airing the dogs, and trod, by acci-
dent, on his favourite Neptune's toe. The
plaguy beast set up a yell. In an instant, I
had a cuff of the head from the young tyrant,
and was called a careless rascal and scoundrel,
while he had breath to heap such epithets on
me. I am glad the lad has given him a dress-
ing, and wish it had been twice as much; it
might do him good."
With this wish, George led off the pony.
The fact was, Lord Robert had caught Philip
A PRESENT FROM AN UNCLE.
Harley trespassing, according to custom, in
the Park, and had tried to horsewhip him
out of the grounds, but had fairly got the
worst of it. Lord Robert, though a stout
and courageous youth, was pulled off his horse
by the desperate young rustic, and in the
fray received several contusions on the face.
Philip did not part without some tokens of
his enemy's vengeance; but he certainly re-
mained victor in the contest. Lord Robert
was glad to regain his pony and make a hasty
retreat, much mortified, and in a very evil
temper.
When he had reached his apartment, he
washed the blood from his face, and composed
the swelling of his haughty spirit; and after
smoothing his ruffled plumes, he descended.
into the dining-room and joined the family
party. His mother made some inquiry re-
specting the bruises on his face; but he turned
it off with an evasive answer, as the effect of a
fall he had met with in the Park. No farther
notice was taken, except a slight sarcasm on
the proverbial bad horsemanship of sailors.
At the dessert, the Marquis, his father,
8
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
handed him a letter. "It is from your uncle,
Sir Henry. See, Robert, what a charming
surprise he has prepared for you! He spoils
you, boy! I think you would not be so
petulant and imperious, if every wish of that
wayward heart were not gratified by his fond
affection."
Lord Robert was so eager to read the letter
from his beloved uncle, that he scarcely heard
this reproof; which, gentle as it was, at any
other time would have clouded his handsome
brow with frowns.
Captain Sir Henry Stanley wrote to his
brother-in-law, that he should sail in the
Diomede, from Portsmouth, in less than a
month; when he should expect his noble
boy, his brave Robert, again to accompany
him to victory. "I think it long till we are
afloat," continued he; "and so, I dare say,
does my dear nephew. However, that the
time may not appear so very tedious, I have
sent him a little pleasure-brig, the most com-
plete that could be procured: he can sail
and manœuvre it on your lake; not that I
approve of fresh-water sailing, but it is better
THE MINIATURE FRIGATE LAUNCHED. 9
than dancing after horses and dogs, and such
landsmen's amusements."
Lord Robert then heard that this fairy
frigate had been safely landed that day at a
seaport town, some little distance from his
father's domains. A wagon and team of
horses had been despatched to bring it home;
and a servant soon afterwards entered to say
that it had arrived, and was carefully placed
by the side of the lake, ready for launching;
which ceremony Lord Robert, full of impa-
tient joy, sprang off to superintend.
It sometimes happens that time and tide
will not wait obsequiously even on the chil-
dren of prosperity. These stubborn powers
will sometimes fret and chafe the proud and
great, and, frequently, are so impolite as to
ruffle a rose-leaf on their couch of pleasure;
but, as if the young lord had suffered morti.
fication enough in the morning, his cup of
delight was full in the evening. The plea
sure was scarcely promised before it was
realized. The gay glittering frigate dashed
bravely into the lake: she bounded and
danced on the waves, with as much spirit as
* 10
THE RIVAL CRUSOES,
the youthful noble could wish. The bottle
of claret was flung with great effect; and she
received her name amidst the applauses of
the peasantry of the neighbouring village,
who, as a great favour, were permitted to
behold this sight at an awful distance.
Lord Robert sank to rest that night, anti-
cipating the charming sail he should take in
the morning.
The eyes of the young lord were open
before sunrise; but whilst his valet was has-
tily dressing him, what was his indignation,
on casting his eyes towards the lake, to see
his fairy frigate, his beautiful Ariel, spreading
her white sails to the breeze, and gliding on
the lake as gallantly as if her noble master
were commanding her? Who could be the
person that had dared to unmoor her? Down
flew Lord Robert, half undressed; and the
servants were summoned; but none of the
household had been guilty of such a piece
of audacity. At last, a thought struck him,
that it could be no other than that con-
temner of all legal authority, Philip Harley.
Lord Robert was soon by the border of the
11.
A DILEMMA.
lake; and there he saw his young enemy re-
clined in the gilded pleasure-boat, sailing at
his ease, and coasting near enough for Lord
Robert to behold the look of calm defiance
with which he surveyed his anger: and he
continued to manage the Ariel with as much
coolness as if her lawful owner had not been
viewing her manoeuvres with the greatest
indignation. Lord Robert was still more
provoked, when he recollected that he had
no means of reaching the offender, to expel
him from the boat.
"Is there anything like a boat on the
estate," exclaimed Lord Robert, "that I may
pursue that insolent young Harley, and take
my property from him ?"
(6
'No, my Lord," said Edwards, the old
gardener; "there is nothing of the kind on
any of the pieces of water within a mile or
two of the hall. Your Lordship may remem-
ber that when you were very young, and took
such a fancy to everything relating to ships
and sailing, my Lady had all the boats de-
stroyed, for fear you should endanger your
life by venturing on the water."
12
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
“And have they never been replaced?"
asked Lord Robert.
'No, my Lord: there were two boats and
a fishing-punt staved in by her Ladyship's
order," replied Edwards. "You may recol-
lect that your Lordship got into sad disgrace,
the next day, by embarking on the lake in a
large washing-tub."
Lord Robert could not help laughing.
"On my honour, Edwards," said he, "I
could find it in my heart to embark in a
washing-tub at present, if I thought it of any
use."
"I think, my Lord," said his valet, "Cap-
tain Bently has a small boat on the river,
about a mile from the park."
""
Run, carry my compliments to Captain
Bently, and ask him to lend it to me for an
hour."
Two or three messengers started with obe-
dient speed to fulfil the wishes of their mas
ter: but the land conveyance of a boat is a
work of time; and, long before their return,
Philip, tired, as we may suppose, of his
amusement, steered the boat to the most
INDIGNATION OF THE MARQUIS.
13
distant part of the lake (which happened to
be nearest his own home), and jumped on
shore, behind some bushes, which jutted out
and concealed his landing. He had walked
quietly through the Park, and arrived at the
village, before Lord Robert perceived by the
irregular drifting of the little vessel, that
she was deserted, and the culprit had escaped
his vengeance.
Lord Robert was literally glowing with
rage, when he met his father in the break-
fast-room. For some reason best known to
himself, he had hitherto concealed from the
Marquis his encounters with Philip Harley;
but, in the moment of indignation, everything
blazed forth; and, in all the exaggeration of
anger, he informed his father of every outrage
Philip had been guilty of towards him; add-
ing, that the reason of their first disagreement
was his interrupting Philip in the act of
poaching.
The Marquis was a good and humane man;
but the representations of Lord Robert highly
incensed him. That a young ruffian, exer-
cising the lawless pursuits of a poacher, should
2
14
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
take every opportunity of insulting and
thwarting his son, and even of brutally as-
saulting him in his own park, was too much
to be endured, and called for the severest
punishment. Certainly, of all the species of
theft (and it is theft), poaching is considered
with the least mercy by nobleman and gen-
tleman of landed property. Perhaps the
Marquis may be reckoned severe, but this
was an aggravated case.
It was then in the middle of the American
war, and a press-gang paid pretty frequent
visits to the neighbouring seaport town.
His Lordship, therefore, informed them that
he wished to remove a noxious, person from
the vicinity, and they took their measures
accordingly.
Philip was partial to the sea: he was clever
in the management of a boat; and was in the
habit of taking trips, now and then, with some
seafaring friends. He was preparing for one
of these excursions, when the press-gang
caught him near the harbour, dressed in a
blue jacket and trousers; and the unfortunate
'youth was immediately dragged from his na-
HARSH TREATMENT OF PHILIP.
15
tive place, without even being suffered to bid
farewell to his parents; and it was with the
greatest difficulty that he obtained leave to
inform them of what had befallen him. In-
deed, the first news they heard of him was,
that he was on board a tender, and destined
to sail in the first fleet that left England.
Philip Harley has hitherto appeared in no
very respectable light. That he was a des-
perate trespasser and depredator, is the most
favourable opinion that can be formed of him;
yet there were people in the neighbourhood,
who, having known Philip from his infancy,
ventured to think that he had met with harsh
treatment, and that his heart, once so good
and upright, must have undergone an extra-
ordinary change, or that he had received
great provocation, to be guilty of such daring
outrages.
There is an excellent saying, which, though
old and trite, it is sometimes necessary to
bear in mind: namely, "That one story is
good till another is told."-There was, in
truth, some little excuse for Philip's con-
duct; though he certainly deserved blame,
16
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
and even punishment, for giving up every
proper pursuit and feeling to the gratification
of resentment.
Before Lord Robert's return from his long
voyage, Philip Harley was considered as
gentle in disposition, as he was manly and
high-spirited. At this time, he was just six-
teen, and had begun to make himself useful
in his father's business, which was that of a
carpenter.
His father was rather independent in his
circumstances; and his whole family consisted
of two children-this Philip, and a lovely
little blind girl, called Kate. This unhappy
sister (if a creature in the practice of the
most angelic patience can be called unhappy)
was the darling of Philip's heart. Every
spare minute he devoted to amusing and
caressing this child, who was many years.
younger than himself; and she returned his
love with the most grateful affection. The
cottage where they lived fronted the west,
and could be seen from the London road;
and blind Kate used to take her evening seat
on the threshold, waiting to hear the step of
17
BLIND KATE'S DOG.
this beloved brother on his return from work;
with her fair face and glittering curls turned
to the setting sun-with a divine expression
of hope and peace on her innocent counte-
nance, that attracted the admiration of every
passenger.
Philip had a very large spaniel, one of the
handsomest of that beautiful species. This
creature he had reared from a puppy, and
taught to be obedient to his sister; and in
his absence Rover was her only source of
amusement; but he was, indeed, a most
faithful and attached attendant, serving both
for a guard and guide.
Sometimes Kate would walk on the road
before the cottage, with her fair hands grasp-
ing Rover's silky coat, who would restrain
his natural vivacity to guide the darkling
steps of his little mistress. At other times,.
when the sun shone warm and bright, and the
grass was soft and thick, Kate was as full of
frolic and play as Rover himself, and would
gambol with him a whole spring-day on the
lawn in front of the cottage; but as the even-
ing approached, Kate and Rover took their
2*
B
18
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
station at the cottage-door, and greeted the
return of Philip with the utmost joy. Both
were most dear to Philip: he tenderly loved
his suffering sister; and he loved the faithful
dog for her sake. It is not surprising, there-
fore, that Philip was almost broken-hearted
when Kate fell sick, and after a few days.
expired. True, she was removed to a better
place. Philip knew that she was taken in
mercy, as her lot in this world was one of
peculiar hardship; but he could not bear to
lose her; and he and Rover moped in the
most cheerless manner for many days after
the funeral.
II.
THE MAN-OF-WAR.
IT was some little time before this that Lord
Robert returned to the hall, after several
years' absence. He had promised himself
much pleasure from the autumnal field-sports;
but in this amusement, as in every other oc-
cupation, he was too apt to suffer trifles to
THE ENCOUNTER.
ruffle his temper, and make him violent and
unreasonable.
19
One gloomy October evening, Lord Robert
was returning with his gun and dogs through
the park, attended by a gamekeeper. He had
pursued his amusement that day with very
little success: everything had gone wrong;
the dogs had pointed badly, and his new fowl-
ing-piece, that had cost him twenty guineas
only the week before, had hung fire several
times, at the very moment when the game
sprang before him the finest mark possible.
In short, he had suffered disappointment
enough to vex the heart of the most patient
person in the world, who had never in his
life felt what real affliction was. At this un-
lucky minute, it was Philip Harley's ill for-
tune to cross the park by a public footway
that led through the grounds. It was the
first day Philip had resumed his work since
the death of his sister; and he was walking
in a melancholy way, carrying bis basket of
tools, with his eyes fixed on the ground, at-
tending very little to what was passing around
him, and Rover was trudging by his side,
20
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
:
when, unluckily, just as Lord Robert came
up to him, a hare darted out of some bushes,
and Rover scampered after it.
"That is the way all the game is poached
off the estate !" exclaimed Lord Robert in a
fit of passion; and, yielding to the influence
of temper, he levelled his gun at the dog.
The piece, that had so many times missed fire
that day, now rang sharp and true: the faith-
ful creature was mortally wounded; he crawl-
ed feebly to his master's feet, and expired.
Philip hung over his poor dog, while he saw
him die, with anguish that gave a painful sen
sation to Lord Robert; yet still, under the
dominion of temper, he said to his servant-
"What a fool the fellow makes of himself
about a dog!"
Philip lifted the body of his poor favourite
from the ground, and taking it in his arms,
rushed by the young lord, giving him a look
of contempt and indignation as he passed.
"It is the dog that used to lead about his
blind sister," said the humane gamekeeper.
"She is just dead."
Lord Robert then remembered meeting
ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF ERROR.
Kate and the dog when he first came home:
he had patted her curly head and admired
her beauty.
21
"Was it blind Kate's dog?" said Lord
Robert. "Had I known that, he might have
destroyed every head of game on the estate
before I would have shot him."
Perhaps, had Philip heard this half ac-
knowledgment of error, much evil might have
been prevented. The next time he met the
young noble, it was with the most bitter feel-
ings. He considered that Lord Robert had
wantonly murdered the innocent companion
of his sister; and all the grief he felt for her
loss was turned into rage. Contemptuous
words succeeded angry looks: and these were
not to be borne by Lord Robert's untamed
spirit; though he felt greatly displeased with
himself, and would have given half his for-
tune to have recalled the past, yet he would
not bear Philip's reproaches. A very little
provoked him to strike him, and a desperate
encounter ensued. This was followed by
many others; for Philip neglected all his bet-
ter pursuits to gratify his revenge; he lay in
22
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
wait to attack Lord Robert, and took every
opportunity of defying him; till the most
ferocious hatred took place between the two
youths, which led to the consequences we
have already seen. In one instance, how-
ever, Philip was wrongfully accused, as he
never had stained his hands with dishonest
practices. Lord Robert well knew that the
dog's accidentally chasing the hare was per-
fectly involuntary on the part of Philip, who
was scarcely conscious of it before the poor
animal was put to death.
This incident had given Lord Robert Sum-
mers great mental pain: he was as angry with
himself as with Philip Harley; he could not
bear to think of his conduct in this affair-he
could not bear to recall any circumstance re-
lating to it; and only the name of Philip Har-
ley gave him the greatest uneasiness. Yet he
was not conscious that the whole of this un-
easiness sprang from giving the reins one.
moment to ungovernable temper; for it was
neither Philip nor his dog that had offended
or irritated him; but accidental circumstances
had put him in a very ill humour, and he
How To GOVERN TEMPER.
23
vented his temper on the first beings that
crossed his path, and, by that means, he was
induced to commit an act of cruelty and op-
pression really foreign to his own disposition,
and which outraged the best feelings of a fel-
low-creature, already under the pressure of
acute affliction. If young people will look
into their own hearts, they will find that there
is no frailty belonging to our erring nature so
deceptive as temper. Strange as it may ap
pear, it often happens that many individuals,
when they express anger, generally wreak it
on the last person who would have thought
of exciting it. Some unfortunate servant, or
still more unhappy dependant, is made the
victim of ill humour; which is not only in
itself as blind and erring as it is unjust, but
also brings with it the additional pain of self-
reproach. Yet the heart is not always bad
that gives way to its evil dominion; but it is
for want of self-examination-of saying, "I
find myself mentally uneasy, perhaps from
accidental events, or even from indisposition
of body; why then should I make myself
odious to this person, who is in my power,
24
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
and must endure my ill treatment, when a
little patience and forbearance will remove
the cloud that rests on my mind, and my spirit
will rise bright and unclouded, rejoicing in
the consciousness of having overcome one of
the most painful infirmities of human nature?"
This self-confession (if it may be so called)
will bring mental health, and rectify the most
irritable disposition.
Never did a month seem so long, as the
time appeared to Lord Robert Summers while
he remained on shore. He parted from his
noble relatives with the less regret as he
longed to be at sea, to lose in active employ-
ment the memory of these errors and morti-
fying reflections.
This young nobleman had passed his ex-
amination as lieutenant with the greatest
credit; and in a severe engagement between
his uncle's ship and a French man-of-war of
superior force (which ended in the capture of
the Frenchman), Lord Robert Summers be-
haved with such distinguished valour, that
he was considered, both for intrepidity and
nautical skill, a most promising young offi
THE PRESSED YOUTH.
cer; yet, on account of his youth, being but
just sixteen, he did not expect his commis
sion for some time to come. In this idea,
however, he was agreeably deceived; for,
before the Diomede put to sea, he received
his commission as Lieutenant. Lord Robert
was greatly attached to his profession; and
this early promotion, which he was conscious
was less the effect of interest than desert,
seemed to him the first fruits of a brilliant
career of naval honours.
He was received with transport by Sir
Henry Stanley; who, himself an ornament
to the British navy, foresaw, in the early
valour of this beloved nephew, the glory of
a Vernon or a Rodney. The Diomede had
received sailing orders; Lord Robert, in high
spirits, and joyful expectation of future tri-
umphs, was in one of his happiest humours,
when a boat from a tender came alongside
the Diomede, with a supply of pressed men
to recruit the ship's company.
Summers, are you ill?" asked a young
officer, with whom Lord Robert was gaily
conversing; when a sudden alteration became
25
3
26
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
observable in his voice and manner, and his
cheek was overspread with a deadly paleness.
Lord Robert did not hear him, being wholly
occupied in watching the progress of a young
sailor up the ship's side.
Lieutenant Cary repeated the question, but
received no answer; and, supposing that Lord
Robert was troubled with one of his occasional
fits of patrician haughtiness, and being to the
full as high-spirited as himself, left him to his
contemplations. These were of no pleasant.
nature; for though emaciated, ragged, and
dirty, and in many respects different from
the handsome youth he had lately seen, the
young sailor (who by this time stood on the
deck of the Diomede) was Philip Harley!
He now felt that his dislike and abhorrence
had arisen to a more intolerable degree than
ever; he fretted at the perverse accident that
had thrown this hated object in his way, and
actually proceeded some paces to request his
uncle to remove Philip Harley from the ship;
but then he recollected that he should most
likely be forced to enter into particulars that
he detested to recall, besides giving his enemy
EFFECTS OF OBSTINACY.
27
reason to suppose that the presence or ab-
sence of so abject a creature could be of the
least consequence to him.
"No," said he to himself, "let him remain;
he will, in the discipline of a man-of-war, be
cured perhaps of his audacity, and learn sub-
mission to proper authority." This was the
result of Lord Robert's debate with himself.
At first, he had been a little touched by
Philip's pale and altered countenance; but,
on a second glance, he found his enemy had
recognised him, and returned his glance with
a look so full of reproach and contempt, that
Lord Robert vowed within himself that his
haughty spirit should be broken.
Alas, for Philip! he needed no worse ene-
my than himself. Instead of a manly resig-
nation to what he knew was unavoidable,
and a determination to perform his duties so
well as to gain respect from the crew-instead
of pursuing this course, which would have
partly defeated the hatred of his enemy,-he
continued so sullen and contrary, that no
means, whether good or bad, could bring him
out of his fits of obstinacy. There needed
28
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
no interference of Lord Robert's to bring on
him the most severe and cruel punishments.
But no bodily pain could subdue Philip; dis-
grace and suffering only rendered him furious.
and desperate; and he was considered muti-
nous and ungovernable to such a degree,
that he passed the first three months of a sea-
faring life in a succession of confinement and
punishment.
Had young Harley, instead of such head-
strong conduct, exerted his real abilities as a
seaman, applied himself to his profession, and
shown his officers and commanders, that,
though a mere youth, he could hand, reef,
and steer, as well as the most experienced
seaman-and this, added to the sober and
moral conduct natural to him, with an edu-
cation and manners far above his station in
life, joined to a stout and active body, and
undaunted courage; these qualifications
would have created respect in every one, and
in no one more than his just and upright
commander; and his persecutor must have
exposed his motives before he could have
injured him now he was fully in his power,
29
THE RECKLESS MUTINEER.
and Lord Robert vowed that he should most
submissively implore his pardon for all his
transgressions, before he should find any
mercy.
"I can't tell what to make of that lad,"
said Lieutenant Cary to Lord Robert, as the
boatswain was untying Harley from a gun,
where he had borne, with Spartan firmness,
the infliction of a cruel punishment, which
his wilful disobedience had brought on him:
"he neither drinks nor swears, nor associates
with the more dissolute part of the crew: but
we have more trouble with him than with the
most abandoned reprobate. Yet he seems to
me to be meant for better things."
Cary said this as a sort of encouragement
to the unfortunate youth, whose manly endu-
rance of extreme suffering had touched his
heart.
"Oh!" returned Lord Robert, with a con-
temptuous laugh, "mutiny and disobedience.
are nothing new to this fellow; his conduct
at sea only matches his behaviour on land-
he was always what you now see him!"
""Tis false! You have made me what I
3*
30
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
am," said Philip, with a withering look.
66 'False !" exclaimed Lord Robert, striking
Philip as he spoke.
"Yes, oppressor, false !" repeated Philip,
returning the blow.
Cary, from a principle of humanity, tried
to stay his arm; but Philip was too quick
for him. "Madman !" said he, in a tone of
regret, "you have forfeited your life!"
"Then let him take it if he will! Thank
God, it will be the last injury he can do me!"
said Philip, resigning his hands with compo-
sure to the fetters with which he was imme-
diately bound.
Harley was considered on board ship so
desperate a mutineer, that it was judged ne-
cessary to chain him down to the deck, lest,
in his fits of rage, as he seemed so careless of
his own life, he should set fire to the vessel,
and destroy himself and the ship's company
together. Here, then, exposed to the sun by
day and the dews by night, with less liberty
than the savage beast, the wretched youth
awaited the certain fate to which, on their
arrival in the first port, the laws of war would
AN ENGAGEMENT.
doom him, for striking an officer on duty.
At this period, the ship and her convoy
were approaching the coast of Brazil; they
had hitherto enjoyed a prosperous voyage,
with fair winds and weather, and a healthy
passage. The Diomede was destined to con-
voy a fleet of merchant-ships bound for the
Portuguese settlement of Rio de Janeiro.
Before they neared the Brazilian shore, they.
descried a sail, which proved to be a French
man-of-war, of nearly equal strength with
their own. Scarcely had the Diomede recog-
nised her for an enemy, before another sail
appeared, which was soon known to be her
consort. These ships had been stationed to
intercept our richly-freighted merchantmen.
The defenceless merchant-ships dispersed in
every direction, leaving the valiant Diomede
to bear the thunders of the unequal combat.
This engagement was a fortunate circumstance
for the unhappy Harley. I believe it is a
usual thing for seamen under confinement
for mutiny to be released before an engage-
ment: however this may be, Philip was set
at liberty, by the orders of the Captain.
31
32
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
Lieutenant Cary was the officer appointed
to set him free. "Harley," said he, "you
have shown a bold spirit in a bad cause; let
us now see what you can do for your country.
It will be my duty to head the boarding-
party. Let me see you near me !"
“You shall see me near you!" said young
Harley, grasping the cutlass which Cary put
into his hand: "I would do much for you!
You are the only man who has felt for me as
a fellow-creature since I was torn from my
home."
By this time the decks were cleared; and,
everything being prepared for action on both
sides, the Frenchman approached pretty
close. During the awful pause, while this
unequal force bore down upon them, perhaps
even some of the boldest hearts felt a chill of
anxiety; for they were not fighting now for
wealth or conquest, but for life, liberty, and
the honour of their flag-that flag which they
had borne in triumph round half the world,
and which had never yet been lowered to a
foe. True, the odds against them were tre-
mendous;, but they were British seamen, and
AN EXPLANATION.
3g
would not doubt the result. Yet there was
the heart of one amongst them that throbbed
high with desperate ardour for the combat,
with the hope of redeeming disgrace, and
showing that he was worthy a better fate
than the death of a felon.
The engagement was long and sanguinary;
but British valour at length prevailed, and the
French ships were forced to sheer off in a
shattered condition, leaving the Diomede lit-
tle better than a wreck on the mid ocean.
The retreat of the enemy was, however, a
glorious and hard-earned triumph; and the
brave officers and crew of the Diomede were
conscious of having performed their duty,
and protected the charge committed to their
care by their country.
After matters were a little set to rights on
deck, and the officers had assembled round
their gallant Captain, to congratulate him on
the retreat of the enemy, Sir Henry Stanley
ordered the young mutineer to be brought
before him. Philip made his appearance,
pale and bleeding, but with a determined
countenance.
с
34
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
"Young man," said Sir Henry, "you have
done your duty to-day. I have to thank
you for twice saving the life of my friend,
Lieutenant Cary: he speaks highly of your
conduct in boarding. Your offences are for-
given-you may return to your duty; and,
I hope, from this day, your conduct will be
as remarkable for obedience, as it has before
been the reverse."
Philip raised his eyes to his commander's
face, and reading there an expression of
manly pity and candour, he was so com-
pletely softened by conduct which he little
expected from Lord Robert's uncle, that he
said, with tears, he had acted wrong, and
would spend his best blood, or even his life,
if required, to amend his fault.
"Then," said Sir Henry, "ask pardon of
Lord Robert Summers for the outrage you
have committed, and all will be well, if you
persevere in your good resolutions."
"I will ask your pardon, Sir Henry, on my
knees, for having rebelled against so good
and gracious a commander, and for having
struck one of your officers; but I cannot ask
PHILIP PARDONED.
forgiveness of Lord Robert Summers since
he was the first to injure me, long before I
saw this ship."
Lord Robert, who stood by his uncle's side,
gave him a disdainful look; Philip's eyes
answered scorn with scorn.
35
"No conditions, sir!" said his captain;
"they don't become you. But pray how has
my nephew injured you?"
"Lord Robert can inform you," said Philip.
"I perceive," said Sir Henry, "there has
been some misunderstanding between you
and my nephew, before you came on board
the Diomede; but this is no excuse for your
uniformly rebellious conduct. Had you done
your duty as a British sailor, you would have
met with encouragement and mild treatment.
My nephew, dear as he is to me, could not
have influenced me to commit an act of injus-
tice against any individual of my ship's com-
pany. Go, and get your hurts examined;
and let me have reason to praise your future
conduct."
Philip bowed to his commander with gra
titude and respect, and retired.
J
36
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
III.
THE STORM.
T is certain that "misfortunes never come
alone." Scarcely had the convoy re-as-
sembled, and the Diomede repaired some of
the injuries she had sustained in the action,
when a furious gale sprang up, and threat-
ened the most mischievous consequences to
the ship, in her shattered condition.
Towards midnight, the ship sprang so much
water, that all hands were obliged to spell
the pumps. About two in the morning, the
wind lulled, and they flattered themselves
that the gale was breaking. Soon after, there
was much thunder and lightning, with rain;
when it began to blow strong in gusts of
wind, which obliged them to haul up the
mainsail, the ship being then under bare
poles. This was scarcely done, when a gust
of wind, exceeding everything of the kind
they had ever any conception of, laid the
ship on her beam-ends. The water forsook
the hold and appeared between the decks, sc
DISTRESS DURING THE STorm.
as to fill the men's hammocks to leeward;
the ship lay motionless, and to all appearance
irrecoverably overset. The water increasing
fast, the captain gave directions to cut away
the main and mizen masts,* hoping, when
the ship righted, to wear her. The mizen-
mast went first, without the smallest effect
on the ship. The main-mast followed; and
they had the mortification to see the foremast
and bowsprit follow also. The ship, upon
this, immediately righted, but with great
violence; and the motion was so quick, that
it was difficult for the people to work the
pumps.
Every moveable was destroyed, either by
the shot thrown loose from the lockers, or
* Cutting away the mast is nobly described by poor Fal-
coner.
"Haste, with your weapons cut the shrouds and stay,
And hew at once the mizen-mast away!'
37
He said; the attentive sailors on each side,
At his command the trembling cords divide.
Fast by the fated pine bold Rodmond stands,
Th' impatient axe hung gleaming in his hands:
Brandish'd on high it fell with dreadful sound:
The tall mast groaning, felt the deadly wound."
Shipwreck.
4
38
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
from the wreck of the deck. The masts had
not been over the side ten minutes, before
the tiller broke short in the rudder-head;
and before the checks could be placed, the
rudder itself was gone. Thus they were
as much disastered as possible, lying at the
mercy of the wind. These circumstances
appeared sufficiently alarming; but upon
opening the after-hold, to get up some rum
for the people, they found their condition
much more so in reality.
It will be necessary to mention, that the
ship's hold was enclosed by a bulk-head at
the after part of the well.* Here were all
the dry provisions, and the ship's rum,
stowed upon ten chaldrons of coal, which
unfortunately, had been started in this part
of the ship, and by them the pumps were
*The well is an apartment in a ship's hold, serving to en-
close the pumps. It is sounded by dropping a measured
iron rod down into it by a long line; hence the increase or
diminution of the leaks is easily discovered.
(C
They sound the well, and, terrible to hear,
Five feet immersed along the line appear;
At either pump they ply the clanking brake,
And turn by turn the ungrateful office take."
FALCONER'S Shipwreck,
THE SHIP IN PERIL.
continually choked. At this time it was
observed that the water had not a passage to
the well; all the rum (twenty-six punch-
eons), all the provisions in casks, were stove;
having floated with violence from side to side,
until there was not a whole cask remaining:
even the staves, that were found upon clear-
ing the hold, were most of them broken in
two or three pieces. In the fore-hold they
had the prospect of perishing. Should the
ship swim, they had no water but what re-
mained in the ground tier; and over this
all the wet provisions in barrels were float-
ing, with so much motion, that no man could
go into the hold without the risk of his life.
There was nothing left, but to try bailing
with buckets at the fore-hatchway and fish-
room; and twelve large canvas buckets were
immediately employed in each. On opening
the fish-room, they were so fortunate as to
discover that two puncheons of rum had
escaped. They were immediately got up,
and served out in drams; and had it not
been for this relief, and some lime-juice, the
people would have dropped.
39
40
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
They soon found their account in bailing:
a spare pump had been put down the fore-
hatchway, and a pump shifted to the fish-
room; but the motion of the ship had washed
the coals so small, that they had reached
every part of the ship, and these pumps were
soon choked. However, the water by noon
had considerably diminished by working the
buckets; but there appeared no prospect of
saving the ship, if the gale continued. The
labour was too great to hold out without
water, yet the people worked without a mur-
mur, and indeed with cheerfulness. But
their sufferings for want of water were very
great, and many of them could not be re-
strained from drinking salt water. They
fired many guns of distress, in hopes some of
the merchant-ships might approach and give
them some supply; but on the beginning of
the storm they had run before the wind, and
made some port on the coast of Brazil—an
example which the Diomede would have
been glad to follow before the hurricane be-
gan, but her crippled state from the engage-
ment rendered this impossible.
THE STORM ABATES.
Towards morning, some of the most reso-
lute of the seamen, rendered desperate by
thirst, went down in the hold, and found a
whole water-cask, which they contrived to
heave up, and it afforded a seasonable relief.
All the officers and boys, who were not of
the profession of seamen, had been employed
that night in thrumming a sail, which was
passed under the ship's bottom with good
effect. The spars were raised for the fore-
mast; the weather looked promising, and
they had the prospect of a fine day; it proved
so; and they were determined to make use
of it, with every possible exertion. The cap-
tain divided the ship's company, with the
officers attending them, into parties, to raise
the jury foremast, to heave overboard the
lower deck guns,* to clear the wrecks of the
"While on the quivering deck, from van to rear,
Broad surges roll in terrible career,
Rodmond, Arion, and a chosen crew,
This office in the face of death pursue.
The wheel'd artillery o'er the deck to guide,
Rodmond descending, claim'd the weather side.
Fearless of heart, the chief his orders gave,
Fronting the rude attacks of every wave.
41
1*
42
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
fore and after holds, to prepare a machine
for steering the ship, and to work the pumps.
By night, as the leak was stopped, the after-
hold was quite clear, ten chaldrons of coals.
having been baled out since the commence-
ment of the gale.
The standards of the cock-pit, an immense
quantity of staves and wood, and part of the
lining of the ship, were thrown overboard,
that, if the water should appear again in the
hold, they might have no impediment in
baling.
The Diomede, in this condition, exhibited
a scene seldom witnessed-a line-of-battle-
ship without masts or rudder, a mere shell in
the midst of the ocean. The casks of all
sorts, floating from side to side, were stove,
Meantime Arion traversing the waist,
The cordage of the leeward guns embraced,
And pointed crows beneath the metal placed.
Watching the roll, their forelocks they withdrew,
And from their beds the reeling cannon threw.
Then from the windward battlements unbound,
Rodmond's associates wheel'd the artillery round;
Then, hurl'd from sounding hinges o'er the side,
Thundering they plunge into the flashing tide."
FALCONER'S Shipwreck.
THE MUTINEER IMPROVED.
and the magazines and store-rooms of every
kind washed down.
43
By nightfall the foremast was secured, and
the machine for steering fixed; so that, if
the moderate weather continued, they were
in hopes of steering the ship, the following
day, for the coast of Brazil-the violence of
the wind having driven them far out of their
course.
During this time of peril and hardship, Sir
Henry Stanley could not help observing with
satisfaction the altered conduct of young Har-
ley, who was so active, enterprising, and cou-
rageous, that no difficulty could overcome
him and no hardship make him complain. He
seemed to think the benign looks of Sir Henry
Stanley, ever bent with peculiar complacency
on those who performed their duties with
manly firmness, were a reward for the most
painful exertions. All the officers, indeed,
noticed the altered conduct of the young
mutineer: no traces remained of his former
rebellion, except that of his returning the
haughty glances of Lord Robert Summers
with equal fierceness, when they chanced to
44
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
meet in the performance of their arduous
duties. But nothing could induce him to
return the taunts this young officer sometimes
bestowed on him with disrespectful language.
Depending on the justice of his captain, he
bore all in unmoved silence; indeed, his
Lordship (who considered Philip as too much
his inferior to give him the opportunity of
joining in a warfare of words) never conde-
scended to address any provoking speeches
to him, but always at him. One would have
thought that such frightful circumstances
would have tamed the haughtiest minds; but
they both required still severer trials to wring
the black spot from their hearts.
The ship, in this perilous state, was in the
middle of the great Atlantic, nearly under the
equinoctial line, with the water-casks beat
to pieces, and most of the provisions spoiled;
so that if, by especial providence, the ship
should swim, so as to reach a port on the
Brazilian coast, the crew would suffer the
most cruel hardships from thirst-painful at
all times, but intolerable in these burning
latitudes. In this dilemma, some of the peo-
COURAGEOUS UNDERTAKING.
ple descried land; and they hoped it was one
of those small islands on which the Portu-
guese have little settlements to supply their
ships, which trade to Africa, with water and
needful refreshments. This island, like those
of St. Helena and Ascension, appeared rocky
and volcanic; but there were good hopes
that springs of water might be discovered on
it, if any of the crew could be found enter-
prising enough to effect a landing, with such
a sea, and on such a coast; for, though the
gale had lulled, the breakers were furiously
high on the shore.
45
Lord Robert Summers, daring and ardent,
and much preferring danger to the lingering
agonies of thirst, volunteered to command a
boat, if any of the crew would venture them-
selves under his guidance. Three of the most
experienced seamen offered to man the boat;
but five hands were indispensable. His Lord-
ship said that he himself should steer the
boat, if one more seaman would venture.
Philip Harley volunteered his assistance.
"Any one but him!" muttered Lord Robert
between his shut teeth, incensed that Philip
46
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
2
should show that his courage was equal to
his own: however, as his services were offered
for the public good, he thought proper, al-
though very unwillingly and ungraciously,
to accept them, and the boat was lowered.
Sir Henry Stanley bade adieu to his gallant
nephew with pain; but he did not attempt
to withhold him, dear as he was, from the
benefit he was proposing to render the ship's
company. When the boat got among the
breakers, the prospect of landing appeared so
hazardous, that one of the oldest of the sea-
men, who rowed the boat, proposed return-
ing to the ship. Lord Robert, considering
himself accountable for the lives of the men
under his care, would not insist on their con-
tinuing their efforts, but said:
"My brave fellows! If the attempt seem
to you hopeless, I will not urge you to con-
tinue it; but if my single life only were
at stake I would willingly risk it to obtain
a supply of water for our famishing compa-
nions."
The sailors then determined to persevere,
their recent sufferings from thirst being fresh
+
AN UNINHABITED Island.
in their minds. At length, by a desperate
effort, they gained the shore, and landed their
water-casks. They soon found a pure spring,
which gushed from a rocky hill at some little
distance from the shore: there was a large
wooden cross erected on an eminence, at the
spring head; but they found no Portuguese
guard at the spring, which is usual in a set-
tlement in those latitudes; so they presumed
the island was uninhabited. The land seemed
barren, rocky, and desolate; but, after some
research, they found, in a sheltered valley, a
few fine lime and cocoa-nut trees, which had
evidently been planted by some beneficent
navigator. Gathering cocoa-nuts is no very
easy operation, as they adhere in close bunches
to the crown of the tree by tough ligaments;
but as young Harley had brought his axe
and saw to cut wood for firing, he climbed
the trees, while his comrades were filling the
water-casks, and expeditiously obtained a
good number, both of limes and cocoa-nuts,
which he considered would be an acceptable
refreshment to his exhausted companions on
board the Diomede.
477
48
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
While they were thus employed, Lord Ro-
bert hailed them from the beach, where he
remained to watch the boat.
"Come, my lads!" said he, "the gale
freshens every minute; let us get afloat, or
we shall scarcely reach the ship before night-
fall."
The sailors hurried the water-casks and
store of fruit into the boat, and launched her
among the breakers. With infinite toil, they
got out of the surf with safety, as the wind
now blew off the shore; but the furious gusts
came every moment with increasing strength;
and, at last, a surge rose with such overwhelm-
ing violence, that, in spite of all their efforts,
the boat upset, and her unhappy crew were
engulfed in the roaring waters. Their fate
was beheld from the ship; but no aid could
be given, as the renewed hurricane had ren-
dered her state more deplorable than ever:
she was driven before the wind, and soon lost
sight of this fatal island.
Some of the boat's crew struggled a little
time with the waves; but three of them were
old men, and had been exhausted by the fa-
49
THE DESERT ISLAND.
tigues they had lately undergone. These
speedily sank; but Lord Robert, being young
and robust, strove hard for life, and at length
gained the shore, almost exhausted by his
contentions with the surfy breakers. When
he had a little recovered his breath, he
climbed the hill on which the cross was
erected, and gazed towards the ship, which
he saw driving before the wind, surrounded
by foaming billows, and with every appear-
ance of speedily sharing the fate he had so
lately escaped. Wholly occupied in the
thoughts of the revered friend that ship con-
tained, he forgot his own desolate state, till
the last appearance of the ship vanished, and
he found himself alone.
IV.
THE DESERT Island.
OPPRESSED with sad thoughts, he turned
himself from the contemplation of the
wrathful ocean, now blackening with the sud-
den night of the torrid zone, and after a little
5
D
50
ܞ
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
search, found a low arch in the rock, which
was the entrance to a natural hollow in its
side. Into this place he crept, to shelter him-
self from the inclemency of the storm, which
increased with tenfold fury after sunset.
In this situation he passed the night which
succeeded this dismal day. It was a night
of peculiar horror-tempestuous, dark, and
rainy; and Lord Robert, though in a state of
complete exhaustion, found that, in his late
struggle with the breakers, he had received
so many bruises, that to sleep was impossible.
At intervals, as the lightning gleamed on
the stormy expanse of waters before him, he
thought how many of his brave companions,
in all probability, slept beneath its roaring
waves; and at that moment, instead of re-
turning thanks to Heaven for his own preser-
vation, he felt inclined to envy his comrades.
To be entirely shut out from all intercourse
with his fellow-creatures, never again to hear
the sound of a human voice, and to be con-
demned, in the very bloom of youth, to pine
away existence in that desolate place, far
from every friend, appeared a doom so dread-
51
CONSCIENCE AND REMORSE.
ful, that he was insensibly led to reflect for
what crime so heavy a punishment could
have befallen him.
Conscience, which sometimes sleeps, but
never dies, did not fail, in this awful hour, to
recall to his memory the cruelty and injustice
of his conduct to Philip Harley: and when
he reflected that, to gratify his imperious dis-
position and implacable spirit of revenge, the
poor lad had been dragged from his peaceful
home, his honest employment, and his affec-
tionate parents, to endure a series of hard-
ships and perils, and that he had finally suf-
fered an untimely death-this thought gave
him so keen a pang of remorse, that, as if he
expected from change of place to escape from
memory, he started from his rocky pillow,
and, as the day was now beginning to dawn,
proceeded to the beach, to ascertain whether
any of his friends from the ship had gained
the shore; for, he remembered, his uncle had
given orders to have the pinnace and yawl in
readiness, in case the ship's situation should
become desperate, that an attempt might be
made to preserve the lives of part of the crew.
Mis
52
**
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
For some time, he pursued his melancholy
walk, interrupted only by the dismal sight
of pieces of wreck, which the impetuous waves
from time to time dashed at his feet. The
sea now running in high tide on the shore,
inspired him with the hope of seeing the pin-
nace and boats, or rafts from the wreck; and
that some, at least, of the ship's company
might be so fortunate as to reach the island
with life. The sun, rising brightly over the
stormy ocean, discovered something strug-
gling with the waves at no great distance.
Lord Robert felt the most agonizing sensa-
tions at the idea that it was out of his power
to render any assistance: All he could do
was to wave his handkerchief, from the little
rocky promontory on which he stood, and
to shout with all his strength, to encourage
him in his efforts. At that moment, a tre-
mendous wave engulfed the object of his soli-
citude-it sank, and his heart sank with
it; again it rose and neared the shore; but
its efforts grew fainter and fainter, and Lord
Robert, fearing that its strength would fail,
though so near the shore, regardless of his
CONFLICTING FEELINGS.
53
own safety, dashed through the breakers to
render his assistance, cheering as he did so.
At the sound of his voice, the poor creature
appeared to recover his strength, and, strug-
gling through the breakers, sprang towards
him with a joyful cry.
"Ah, my poor Neptune! Is it you?" ex-
claimed Lord Robert, with mingled anguish
and pleasure, as he threw his arms round the
faithful animal, and gave vent to his feelings
with a burst of tears. "Yes!" said he, as he
threw himself on the beach in bitter sorrow,
"The Diomede must indeed have foundered,
or my kind, my benevolent uncle, would
never have committed this old memorial of
his lost nephew to the mercy of the waves,
for the sake of lightening the vessel, or
saving the morsel of food he would have con-
sumed." But again remembering the chance
that some of the crew might be saved by the
pinnace, and condemning the indulgence of
his grief, he rose, and, dripping as he was,
pursued his search, attended by his faithful
Neptune, who bounded round him with joy
ful affection. In the course of his walk, he
5*
54
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
found some limes and cocoa-nuts scattered on
the beach; and, yielding to the painful thirst
that consumed him, he raised one of the limes
to his parched lips, when he recollected that
they were some of the fruit young Harley
had gathered, and was carrying to the ship at
the time the boat was upset, and the unfor-
tunate youth had been buried in the waves.
This thought recalled the bitter reflections
he had with difficulty succeeded in banishing
from his mind; and when he remembered
that, though he had not been the immediate,
he had certainly been the ultimate cause of
his death, he sickened at the thought, and
casting the untasted fruit from him, he said,
"No; I cannot eat these!" Proceeding on
his walk, he gained the spot where he had
landed with his unfortunate companions the
day before. He sighed deeply as he passed
it; and, doubling a projection of rock, he
discovered the pinnace, floating bottom up-
wards close in shore. At that sight, the most
agonizing in the world to the heart of a sailor,
he turned away, and wept almost to suffoca-
For some moments, he continued to
tion.
THE MEETING.
give way to the grief which oppressed
him, till roused from the indulgence of his
feelings by a loud and joyful bark from Nep-
tune, and, uncovering his eyes, he perceived
a young sailor, whose face was turned from
him, gazing on the pinnace, apparently in as
melancholy a mood as himself. This doubt-
less was the only one of her unfortunate crew
who had escaped the violence of the waves;
and Lord Robert, losing all distinction of
rank in the fellowship of misfortune, sprang
towards him with open arms, exclaiming, in
a voice broken by emotion-"What cheer,
my lad?" At the sound of his voice, the
young man turned slowly round, and dis-
covered a face pale with contending feelings
-it was Philip Harley! For a moment, the
two enemies surveyed each other in silence;
each wondering at the other's preservation;
each somewhat softened by the traces of sor-
row and suffering in the countenance of the
other, but, alas! each mutually yielding to
the same stubborn and haughty temper which
had so long been the spring of all that was
evil in their separate characters, they sur-
55
56
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
veyed each other with a look of defiance, and
walked gloomily away in opposite directions.
Lord Robert certainly did feel his heart
relieved of half the painful emotions which
had, for the last ten hours, oppressed it almost
to bursting; and as he retraced his steps almost
instinctively to his cheerless chamber in the
rock, where he had spent that dreadful night,
he exclaimed, "Thank God, he lives! I am
not then his murderer! It is true, that entire
solitude would have been much more agree-
able to me, than the idea of breathing the
same air with him, and being constantly ex-
posed to the chance of meeting him; but that
is more than compensated by the knowledge
that he lives, and is, indeed, no worse off than
myself."
Thus did Lord Robert compose his trou-
bled thoughts, and lull to sleep those better
feelings which almost prompted him, at the
first sight of young Harley, to make such ad-
vances towards amity, as would have been.
pleasing in the sight of God, and even in that
of his enemy, whose heart, naturally kind and
good, had been greatly softened by the awful
57
CONSCIENCE AND REMORSE.
circumstances under which their last inter-
view had taken place. Besides, he had been
an unseen spectator of Lord Robert's manly
but acute sorrow, when he beheld, in the de-
plorable situation of the pinnace, a confirma-
tion of his worst fears respecting the fate of
his uncle and friends. He, too, had been
weeping; for he reverenced Sir Henry Stan-
ley, and loved Lieutenant Cary; and he was
disposed to behold even Lord Robert with
complacency, for their sakes; for he knew
he was very dear to them both; and when
he saw the agony with which Lord Robert
staggered forward, on reaching the spot which
commanded this melancholy sight, and heard
his repeated sobs, he felt his hatred towards
him so much diminished, that he was forced
to recollect all the injuries he had received
from this young officer, before he could suf
ficiently repel the inclination he felt to speak
to him in the voice of kindness and comfort.
Lord Robert had hitherto appeared to him
haughty, rude, and unfeeling; and Philip
knew not that this spoiled child of prosperity
possessed at times much sensibility, strong
58
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
affections, and feelings, which, had they been
properly directed, would have been condu-
cive to the happiness of all around him; in-
stead of which, his unchecked passions pro-
duced danger and inconvenience to all who,
even unintentionally, irritated them, and
misery to their unhappy possessor, far beyond
what he had ever inflicted on others.
But Philip was in many respects too like
his adversary in character; and he never took
the trouble of asking his own heart, if he were
not sometimes to blame, as well as his high-
born enemy. If Lord Robert was haughty,
Philip was insolent; if one was hasty in
giving a provocation, the other was still more
so in retaliating. Had Philip for one moment
remembered that most divine maxim of holy
writ, "A soft answer turneth away wrath,
and had he been sufficiently of a Christian
disposition to practice it in one instance only,
Lord Robert would have been appeased; and
what mischief might have been spared, what
suffering avoided, on one side! and what
painful remorse on the other! When Philip
beheld Lord Robert's tears, his first emotion
17
KNOW THYSELF.
was surprise; and he said to himself, "Can
he weep? he that is so hard-hearted and
proud!" and then the thought occurred to
him, "Perhaps his heart is not so very hard
as I have reason to believe?" Philip was not
uncandid; and he remembered then, that he
had often thrown himself in Lord Robert's
way,
and committed many outrages, on pur-
pose to provoke him. For the first time in
his life, he put himself in his Lordship's place,
and asked his own heart, whether he were
sure, under such circumstances, that he should
have acted better? But Philip was not yet
sufficiently acquainted with the faults of his
own character, to see that he had been almost
equally blameable; and though, perhaps, he
would not have refused to forgive, he had no
idea that he too required to be forgiven, if not
by his erring fellow-creature, at least by his
heavenly Father. Had this occurred to him,
he would not have renewed their suspended
enmity, by being the first to assume a look
of defiance, while Lord Robert was undecided
what course to pursue: but the favourable *
moment was unfortunately lost; for Lord
59
60
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
Robert returned the glance with equal disdain,
and they were as much at variance as before.
Lord Robert had returned to the cleft in
the rock, and thrown himself at full length,
lost in unpleasant and bitter reflections for
some hours, before the cravings of hunger re-
minded him that it was necessary to make
some exertion for the preservation of that life
which Heaven had spared; but perhaps he
would, in his gloomy frame of mind, have
disregarded his own wants, and remained ob-
stinate in his self-neglect, had not the mute
appeals of his faithful Neptune roused him
from inertion. Neptune was a fine water-
dog, a present from his elder brother at part-
ing; and Lord Robert, who had long desired
to possess this animal, treated him with the
most unbounded affection; and always suf-
fered him to share every meal with him, and
even divided with him his share of food and
water during their late dreadful privations;
and Neptune, who had not tasted food for
many hours, continued to put his paws on
his master's knees, and to survey him with a
wishful look, till Lord Robert rose, and left
EFFORTS TO PROCURE FIRE.
61
the cave in search of something to satisfy his
cravings. Amongst his other troubles, he
had little fear of perishing by famine; for he
knew, by the latitude he was in, that he
should most likely find turtles, or turtles'
eggs, on the beach. In fact, while he was
listlessly pacing the shore, thinking of any-
thing rather than the object of his search,
Neptune, who was not quite so uninterested,
pounced on something in a hole in the sand,
which proved to be a fine turtle. His master
soon killed it, and satisfied the hunger of his
humble friend with part of the flesh; and
then, in a more leisurely manner, set about
collecting pieces of wreck to make a fire;
but, alas! he was wholly unpractised in the
sleight of striking a few sparks to kindle a
flame. It is true, he knew how they were
to be procured, and soon found a flint proper
for the purpose: but in striking it with the
back of his knife, he only rubbed the skin
off his hands, and bruised his knuckles, with-
out producing the desired effect; or, if he did
elicit a few sparks, they died away for want
of proper kindling. This put him in a pas-
6
62
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
i
sion, and he redoubled his violence till he
broke the flint into a thousand pieces; and
sat down in a very ill humour, looking at
his pile of wood and his raw turtle with much
discontent. At last he recollected, that if he
could not cook his turtle, he could quench
his thirst at the clear spring they had dis-
covered on their first landing: this he soon
found, and was much refreshed by a draught
from it. At a small distance, within view
of the spring, he saw the little grove of limes
and cocoas in the valley; there he beheld,
with some little envy, a bright blazing fire,
near which Philip was employed cooking his
supper. He hastily avoided the spot, and
returned to the beach, where he found in the
sand some turtles' eggs, which he could eat
raw, and with them satisfied the calls of
hunger. He then lay down on his flinty
couch, with Neptune for a pillow; and, being
completely exhausted by fatigue, notwith-
standing his distress and discontent, sank into
a profound sleep.
?
RIVALRY.
V.
63
RIVALRY.
THE next morning found Lord Robert still
perplexed with these minor difficulties.
For though he could bear, with heroic self-
denial, the hardships incidental to his profes-
sion, and had not taken a morsel more food,
or a drop more water, in their late distress on
board ship, than any other of the suffering
crew, and had even shared his scanty morsel
with his famishing dog, this he could do, for
he felt there was something noble and refined
in such conduct; but he felt sadly irritated
at being thrown on his own resources in the
little common everyday necessaries of life.
From his infancy, he had been surrounded
by servants, who were accustomed to perform
for him the most minute services, so that at
seventeen his Lordship (though a valiant
officer, and perfect in his professional duties,)
was ignorant of many things very necessary
for every one to know; and if he was ac-
64
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
*
quainted with the methods resorted to in
many situations, he was at least very
awkward in his attempts of putting them
into practice. However, on this occasion,
making use of his own good sense, after a
little calm reflection, he collected from the
sides of the rock some dry grey moss, and
drawing some rays from the sun in the focus.
of a little perspective glass he had in his
pocket, he soon set his pile of wood in a
blaze, and cooked sufficient turtle to feed him
for a day or two.
He had scarcely completed this employ-
ment, when the sun, which had for days been
shaded by tempestuous clouds, broke forth
with its usual splendour; and there was pro-
mise of a continuance of that sultry weather
so seldom interrupted in these latitudes.
Lord Robert, when he felt the sun beat on
his uncovered temples, fled for shelter to his
cave, which he found nearly of the same
temperature as an oven half heated. Pant-
ing for breath, he remembered the grove, of
which Philip had taken possession, and bent
his steps towards it; but he found that this
65
THE STERILE ISLAND.
spot of verdure did not consist of more than
a rood of land; and he did not choose to be
so near young Harley as the farthest extre-
mity of its shelter. So he remained on the
burning beach, or under the shade of some
arid rock, during the day, determining to
make a tour of the island in the cool of the
evening, and hoping to fix his residence in
some shady vale similar to Philip's terri-
tories. But how can his disappointment
be expressed, when, after a most fatiguing
walk, all the good he gained was a know-
ledge of the extent of his prison? He had
in vain searched for a grove; barren rocks
and burning sands alone met his sight:
at last, he climbed a conical hill, which
towered above the other rocks, and which,
from his geological knowledge, he was cer-
tain contained the exhausted crater of a vol-
Here he had a view of every nook of
the island, which was of the extent of about
five miles, and presented a prospect of one
pile of horrid rocks heaped on another, with-
out one spot of fertility, except Philip's little
cluster of trees, whose bright verdure formed
cano.
1
6*
66
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
a refreshing contrast to the burning rocks,
which seemed yet to glow with the intense
heat that had been poured on them through
the day. As he fixed his eyes wistfully on
this favoured spot, and saw the smoke of
Philip's evening fire curling above the trees,
he exclaimed, "Yes; I must, though most
reluctantly, share this only habitable place
with him; for such a day as the last I can-
not endure again. Doubtless, this grove was
planted by some benevolent navigator (such
as I have often read of) on the soil formed
by the accidental residence of sea-birds; and
the grass and trees* have gradually spread
over a small extent of land. Surely, as it
* The progress of vegetation is very curious in those
islands, which are supposed by geologists to be thrown up
from the bottom of the sea by volcanoes, or formed by the
unceasing labours of the coral animalculi. These generally
present at first a rocky surface, barren and arid. By de-
grees, a little soil is deposited by sea-fowl and birds of pas-
sage; on this at first grow the seeds of some of those minute
plants, which are literally carried on the wings of the wind.
from countries that appear too far distant for any such con-
veyance. These plants flourish, fade, and are renewed by
the seasons, until from their decayed parts is formed that
fine vegetable mould which overspreads the more fertile
surface of the earth. When this process is begun, if the
ADVANTAGES OF INDUSTRY.
was meant for universal benefit, I have a right
to a share of it." So saying, he descended
the hill, and after a toilsome walk arrived at
the grove after nightfall, where he enjoyed
the luxury of stretching his aching limbs on
the soft grass, under the fragrant shade of a
lime-tree, and slept soundly till after sunrise.
He awoke in the morning with the cheerful
sound of a human voice singing, and on
opening his eyes, saw Philip Harley, a few
paces from him, busy at work. He was
astonished to see the progress his enemy
had made in forming himself a habitation;
for he had got very forward in the frame-
work of a neat hut, and was now boarding it
with planks, which he had collected on the
beach, singing as he knocked in every nail.
This hut was situated among the thickest
cluster of trees, directly under a fine young
67
land receives from the hand of some benevolent discoverer
a few seeds of trees or plants to which the climate is con-
genial, the work of fertilization is rapidly accelerated; grass
grows luxuriantly under the shade of the trees: verdure in-
creases, and creeps farther and farther, till from one little
spot, an oasis in the midst of a desert, the whole island
becomes fruitful.
68
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
vine, the only one in the island; and as
Philip roofed his hut, he carefully trained the
rich branches all over the dwelling, taking
care not to injure the purpling fruit, which
was nearly ripe; and thus giving his hut, as
soon as it was finished, the charming appear-
ance of a bower.
Overcome by the heat of the climate, Lord
Robert lay for a day or two wholly inactive,
stretched beneath his lime-tree, amusing him-
self with playing with Neptune, or when he
thought he was unperceived, watching the
progress of his enemy's work, but not conde-
scending to address one word to him; who,
on his part, preserved the same sullen silence.
Lord Robert could not help wondering how
Harley came by the saw and hatchet which
he handled with so much adroitness; but he
would not condescend to ask him. The fact
was, that when Philip and the sailors were
caled away from gathering the cocoas,
Philip, in his hurry, had left the saw and
hatchet at the foot of the tree; and there
he found them when he regained the land.
Possessed of these treasures, he made himself
69
EXERTION ROUSED.
a hammer of a hollow stone; and, drawing
nails out of the wreck, he set to work, and
soon completed his hut. But when he pro-
ceeded to make a stool and table, Lord
Robert was moved to some exertion; for he
thought, that if he could make himself some-
thing of the kind to place under his lime-
tree, he should not regret the hut his adver-
sary seemed so proud of; and he was deter-
mined to try to construct some such articles
of comfort and convenience. He accordingly
went to the beach, and soon collected timber,
from which he selected his pieces with which
he meant to try to form a table and three-
legged stool. He would willingly have
worked on the beach, out of the impertinent
ken of his enemy: but the intolerable heat
soon drove him back to the delicious shade
of the grove, where a perpetual breeze seemed
to play amongst the leaves; and thither he
reluctantly proceeded, carrying the wood, and**
followed by Neptune. Sorry I am to record,
that when Philip saw his haughty enemy
appear thus laden, he paused in his work with
a malicious curiosity to see how Lord Robert
70
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
would acquit himself in his new employment.
The first thing he did was to tear a bough
or two off a tree, meaning to cut three trun-
cheons to form the legs of his stool. It was
lignum vitæ wood, extremely hard; and
Lord Robert eyed Philip's saw, which just
then would have been of great service to him,
but he disdained to ask the loan of it. So he
seated himself on the turf, and began to cut
the legs with his pocket-knife (his only tool)
with great difficulty; then he chose from the
fragments of wreck a small piece of square
wood, and marked with his pencil the holes
he designed to make; he then walked, in a
very stately manner, to Philip's fire, and
taking from thence three hot coals, he laid
them on his pencilled marks, and kept re-
newing them till the wood was nearly burnt
through; then he scraped through the burnt
wood, till he had got three holes; into these
he knocked his truncheons with a great stone,
and placed his stool on the ground to admire
his own ingenuity; but he had knocked one
leg more and another less, so that their
lengths were unequal, and down the stool
1
ASSISTANCE REJECTED.
fell. Philip, who had seen this defect all
the time, was highly diverted at his disap-
pointment, when the stool fell, particularly
when he saw how it irritated Lord Robert's
impatient temper. At last, overcoming his
inclination to laugh, he said, "You must
shorten the middle leg of your stool, or it
will never stand," at the same time pushing
his rule and saw towards his Lordship, who
rejected them with great disdain, saying-
"Do you think that I can condescend to learn
the low mechanic art of a carpenter ?" And
he laid a most contemptuous stress on the
word carpenter.
71
Philip coloured with indignation, as he re-
plied, "Perhaps your Lordship will in a little
time see which is of most service in this
place, your title, or my useful knowledge."
Lord Robert haughtily flung back the rule
and saw, and began to shorten the leg with
his knife. This was a work of time and
difficulty: the wood was hard, and the knife
unfit for the purpose, and, worse than all,
Lord Robert was very awkward in his me-
chanical attempts; but he was unusually so
72
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
in this, for he was in a pet, and he saw that
Philip watched him and enjoyed his unskilful
manoeuvres. This had the effect of enraging
and confusing him; and, in his anger, the
knife slipped and cut his knuckles across.
He glanced at Philip, and saw him smile.
This greatly provoked him, and he darted
towards his enemy a furious look; but Philip
continued to survey his operations with a
calm but sarcastic regard. The next thing
Lord Robert did was to set his knife so fast
in the wood that he could not move it.
Philip smiled again; and Lord Robert, out
of all patience, used so violent an effort to get
it free, that the blade snapped in the middle,
and, starting up in a passion, he dashed the
stool violently against the ground. Philip
laughed aloud.
"Insolent plebeian!" exclaimed Lord Ro-
bert; "do you presume to insult me?"
"Lord Robert Summers," replied Philip,
"I would advise you to remember, that you
are neither in your father's park, nor on the
deck of the Diomede, where your imperious
temper might be feared and indulged: but
73
THREATS OF VENGEANCE.
here we are equals; and any outrage, either
of words or actions, shall meet with instant
chastisement. I would therefore advise your
Lordship to be more guarded in your lan-
guage, for it may be followed by consequences
which you may not approve!"
"Villain!" retorted Lord Robert, "do you
forget that I am your commanding officer ?"
"No!" returned Philip, becoming greatly
agitated as certain recollections crossed his
mind; "no-you have put it out of my
power ever to forget that you were once ena-
bled to gratify your ungenerous malice to the
utmost stretch of your power. Basely and
cruelly did you trample on me, when you
knew that to resist the authority you abused
was impossible. I was your victim, but am
so no longer! And," continued he, advanc
ing very close to Lord Robert, "beware how
you provoke me to take such signal vengeance
for all the injuries you have inflicted on me,
as shall teach your proud heart to rue the
hour that ever you made Philip Harley the
companion of your voyage!"
There was an expression so terrible in
7
74
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
Philip's eyes as he spoke these words, that
Lord Robert, stout-hearted as he was, (and
there never was a braver officer,) changed
colour; but in a moment recovering his in-
trepid spirit and haughty bearing, he flashed
back a look of defiance, and assumed a pos-
ture of defence.
"It is unnecessary," said Philip; "I am
not going to attack you. You have in many
contests proved the strength of this arm:
that it always was superior to yours, I
scarcely need remind you. That your late
injuries have not unnerved it, you may well
believe: but, as long as you observe a tem-
perate line of conduct, and discontinue ad-
dressing me by opprobrious names, you need
not fear its force."
"Fear!" repeated Lord Robert indignant-
ly: "I fear God; and have no other fear!
Dost thou imagine that I fear aught like
thee?"
"
Perhaps not," replied Philip; "but I
would advise you not to provoke me unne-
cessarily."
So saying, he retired within his hut, leav
;.
CONFLICT WIth Pride.
ing Lord Robert speechless with contending
emotions. He was indeed much ruffled by
the short but fierce altercation which had
passed between himself and young Harley;
and the more so, when he reflected that
Philip's bodily strength was superior to his
own, and that his high rank would be of no
avail to him in this desolate place, as Philip
had very unceremoniously told him; and as
his own conscience whispered that he had
formerly offered him the most dreadful pro-
vocation, he could scarcely be astonished if
Philip, now that he was the more powerful,
should meditate retaliation, and take, as he
threatened, unbounded vengeance for all that
he had suffered on board the Diomede and
elsewhere.
75
He was reluctant to abandon this sheltered
and beautiful spot; but he preferred return-
ing to his dreary cleft in the rock, to residing
in the valley, where Philip had erected his
dwelling; considering the heat and barren-
ness of the rest of the island as far less evils
than the company of Philip, whose very sight,
after the threats he had used, was most into-
76
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
:
lerable to him and Lord Robert felt that he
could not bend his haughty spirit to practise
the civility and moderation which Philip had
recommended, lest this behaviour should be
construed into fear of his superior force. On
the other hand, he reflected that if he per-
sisted in his natural imperiousness, so far as
to provoke Philip to a personal contest with
him, the languor incidental to the climate
had so much enervated him, that, to maintain.
a combat with such an adversary as young
Harley had often proved himself to be, with
the slightest prospect of success, was impos-
sible, and would only expose him to insult.
and contempt, and perhaps even to more dis-
graceful treatment, from his justly incensed
enemy. To avoid such consequences, he
judged it most suitable to his dignity to
retire; and, whistling to Neptune to follow
him, he slowly and sullenly returned to the
beach, leaving Philip in uninterrupted pos-
session of the Valley of Limes.
SELF-REPROACHES.
镇
​в руку
VI.
SICKNESS.
THOUGH Philip, still smarting under the
remembrance of the many injuries he
had received from Lord Robert, had, on the
haughty expressions of contempt uttered by
that young officer, used threats which were
most irritating to his proud spirit, he by no
means designed to proceed to personal hosti-
lities; for Philip was, in spite of all his faults,
too really generous to exert in this instance
the advantages his superior strength gave
him; and he was far from intending to drive
his companion in misfortune from the only
spot in the island capable of affording him
any of the comforts of life. In short, he
expected that when Lord Robert had vented
his displeasure in a solitary walk, he would
return to the valley. When Philip's temper
cooled, he began to reflect on the luxuries.
Lord Robert had been accustomed to from
his cradle; he thought how severely his
7*
78
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
high-born adversary must feel the privations
to which he was now exposed; and his heart
smote him for having, by his provoking ridi-
cule, occasioned that ebullition of feeling
which had vented itself in expressions of
wrathful contempt, which he, on his part,
(not considering the provocation was of his
own giving,) had been so ready to return; and
that their mutual recriminations had induced
him to utter menaces, which had driven his
companion in misfortune from an employ-
ment necessary even for the preservation of
his existence.
Occupied by these thoughts, Philip often.
paused in his work, and looked round to see
if Lord Robert had returned to the valley,
and listened for his step with anxiety; but
he did not come. Night arrived, and Philip
did not see him reposing under his favourite
lime-tree; and he felt out of humour with
himself, for being the cause of keeping him
away.
From some uneasy self-reproaches, he did
not taste at night the calm repose which
generally follows a day of labour; on the
FEELINGS OF Regret.
79
contrary, he felt that evening some of those
painful feelings of remorse which had so
often tortured Lord Robert, but which had
never been experienced by himself before;
and he now remembered that, though Lord
Robert had ill-treated him, yet there was a
difference in their rank, and that it was bru-
tal in him to threaten a high-spirited and
elegant young man with personal violence
when they were united in the same distress:
and that Lord Robert's contemptuous expres-
sions were caused by his laughter at that
which was a serious misfortune to his high-
born foe; namely, his want of skill in me-
chanics, and the mischance of breaking his
knife, the loss of which was irreparable, and
would perhaps deprive him, on some occa-
sions, even of the means of procuring food.
Philip would have repaired to the beach,
to see what had become of Lord Robert; but
he thought it probable that some new cause
of offence might arise between them. How-
ever, in the afternoon, he had occasion to
visit the beach to search for some pieces of
wreck. When he reached the shore, he found
80
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
there had been a very high tide the preceding
night, and many articles were scattered on
the sand; as staves, pieces of rope, and splin-
ters from the mast. These Philip carefully
collected, and placed above high-water mark,
lest they should be washed to sea again. In
the course of this important avocation, he
approached the cave where Lord Robert had
again taken up his residence: but he had
been too busily engaged to think of him,
till his eye was attracted by the flash of his
epaulet in the evening sun; and he saw him,
at a little distance, bending over some em-
ployment, in which he was too much occu-
pied to perceive the approach of Philip, who
was tempted to draw near enough to ascer-
tain what it was that so deeply engaged his
attention; but he did so somewhat cautiously,
lest he should again give offence. He soon
was near enough to discover that Lord Ro-
bert's employment was that of digging a
grave in the sand, with a butt-stave, and near
him lay the bodies of five seamen, which the
high tide had washed on shore, close to the
entrance of Lord Robert's cave. Philip felt
A MELANCHOLY TASK.
81
a bitter pang as he gazed on the lifeless re-
mains of his unfortunate messmates; and
seizing another stave, he placed himself op-
posite to Lord Robert, and began to assist in
the sad duty; but neither spoke.
One of the bodies was that of a midship
man, whom Lord Robert had loved; and as
he now proceeded to place his remains in the
narrow bed he had scooped for him with so
much toil, his tears fell fast on the face of
the deceased. When he attempted to raise
him from the shingle, to lay him decently in
the grave, the effort was too much for him.
Philip immediately sprang forward and as-
sisted him, otherwise the corpse would have
fallen from his grasp. He did not reject the
aid of his foe; but he did not even glance at
him in return. In silence they began their
melancholy task; in silence they proceeded
in it; and the moon had risen high and shone
with splendour by the time they had dug
the last grave, when unfortunately, as they
placed the seamen in the "house appointed
for all living," Philip recognised his features:
it was the boatswain of the Diomede! A
82
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
((
crowd of agonizing feelings passed through
Philip's breast, as he recollected that from
this man's hand he had received such dis-
graceful punishment. He first turned pale,
and then scarlet; and it recurred to his
mind, that this person had only been the pas
sive instrument obeying the orders of others.
'It was thy malice, tyrant! that added
this worst wrong to all the rest," thought he.
True, he did not utter these words: but he
regarded Lord Robert with a look, in which
hatred and rage were but too visibly painted
to escape his Lordship's observation, though
he was ignorant of the cause of it; but he
thought it shocking of Philip to take the op-
portunity of insulting him at such an awful
time, particularly when he had condescended
to permit his assistance; and he returned
Philip's indignant look in so disdainful a
manner, that, scarcely conscious that he was
the first himself to renew hostilities, Philip
took fire, and provokingly reminded his
Lordship "that his haughty looks were use-
less, when directed to him; and he advised
him to reserve them for those who cared for
MUTUAL VITUPERATION.
83
them, if he could find any such in the
island."
"To the full as many as will endure your
low-bred insolence," returned Lord Robert
with equal scorn. "However, Mr. Harley,
if I might condescend to speak to you in the
language of entreaty, it would be to request.
the favour of your absence. You have taken
possession of the only habitable spot in the
island, and I have not attempted to deprive
you of it; and I think the least you can do,
in return for my moderation, is to leave me
undisturbed on my barren domain."
"If all my security were the moderation of
Lord Robert Summers," replied Philip with
a contemptuous laugh, "I should be as soon
driven from my dwelling here as I was forced
from the home of my parents: but here I can,
by the strength of my own right hand, main-
tain my rights; and whoever attempts to in-
vade them, may chance to repent of his
folly."
As Philip uttered this threat, he finished
casting the last heap of sand on the boat-
swain's grave; on which. apparently ex-
84
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
hausted with fatigue, Lord Robert had seated
himself. The sight of these bodies had re-
called the fate of his uncle, and he had been
lately weeping bitterly; and when young
Harley observed his tearful eyes, and the
evident languor and despondency visible in
his whole appearance, his conscience again
smote him; he remembered what he had so
lately suffered from self-reproach; and he
reflected, that if he so much abused the mere
bodily superiority his strength gave him, it
was by no means wonderful that when Lord
Robert possessed so much power, he should
exert it when offended.
He paused, and looked earnestly at Lord
Robert. The moon shone brightly on his
face; the flush of resentment had faded from
it; and he looked so ill, and there was such
an expression of hopeless dejection in his
eyes, that Philip was greatly touched; and
he even thought of apologizing to him for
what he had lately said, and of entreating
him to return with him to the Valley of
Limes. While he yet hesitated, Lord Robert
looked up, and waved his hand impatiently
MASTERY OF DISEASE.
for him to be gone: and Philip, finding that
the conquest of his own pride was too great
an effort to be made at that time, retired to
his home, self-condemned and unhappy.
Lord Robert continued sitting on the grave,
in a listless attitude, leaning his head on his
hand, almost unconscious that he was alone.
The faintness and languor which had been for
some time stealing on him, seemed so wholly
overpowering, as even to take away the in-
clination of retorting Philip's last innuendo;
but now, though the words still rang upon
his ear, and he fully understood their mean-
ing to comprise reproach, insult, and threat,
either of which was sufficient to put his proud
spirit in a flame, yet he was conscious of
growing confusion in his own mind, which
seemed to prevent his forming a suitable re-
ply; and, for the first time in his life, he
found himself unwilling to continue the war
of words. He felt an impatient desire of
quiet; and, forgetful that Philip would most.
likely pay no attention to his mandate, he
motioned for him to retire, with no little of
his habitual air of superiority. Philip, how-
85
4
86
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
ever, did obey in this instance. Lord Robert,
after some minutes, raised his aching head
from his hand, and, looking round to see if
he were gone, uttered an expression of satis
faction at finding himself alone.
Lord Robert's naturally fine constitution
had been greatly impaired since his residence
in the island, by the pain of mind he had
suffered from the loss of his uncle and friends,
the remorse he felt for his numerous errors,
joined to his discontent and impatience at
being placed in a situation so uncongenial to
all his former habits. Besides, he suffered
from the hardships which he was forced to
endure sleeping on the flinty rock, or pass-
ing the night on the turf under the lime-tree
-a most unhealthy practice-for the dews
were very heavy, and, in common to all hot
countries, very noxious to those who were
exposed to their influence.
(
He had lost his hat when the boat was
overset; and, trivial as this loss may appear
to the natives of a temperate climate, it was
attended with very painful consequences to
Lord Robert, on whose head the rays of the
APPROACHING FEVER.
87
sun fell with unmitigated violence, and oc-
casioned him the most acute headache when-
ever he was exposed to the noon-day heat.
After his retreat from the Valley of Limes,
he had for many hours paced the beach in a
tumult of rage, with the perpendicular rays
of a tropical sun darting on his uncovered.
head. The night he had passed without
sleep; and, early in the morning, he found
the remains of the unfortunate seamen. He
was ill and feverish; and it was only by
a strong effort that he so far overcame
his painful languor as to attempt the neces
sary but mournful task of giving them
burial.
Notwithstanding the heat of the day, and
the toilsome task he was engaged in, he ex-
perienced repeated fits of shivering; the
burning rays of the sun pouring on his head,
though they occasioned the most acute pain,
failed to impart warmth to his frame. This
was accompanied with so strong a disinclina-
tion to move, that he several times paused in
the course of digging the first grave; and,
yielding to the sickly lassitude which op-
88
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
pressed him, he retired to his cave; but that
commanding a full view of the poor seamen,
the dreadful sight roused him from his inac-
tivity, and again he proceeded in his mourn-
ful work. He had scarcely completed dig-
ging one grave with great toil and pain, and
was wondering how it would be possible for
him, ill as he was, to go through the whole
business of interment, when Philip appeared
and afforded his powerful aid. This was too
valuable to be rejected; and he felt grateful
for the silent manner in which he tendered
his assistance and worked by his side; and
he was about to thank him for his services,
when, on raising his head for that purpose,
he caught the offensive look which has
already been mentioned. Lord Robert, lost
in his own sad thoughts, did not perceive the
reason of this. Had he, indeed, recognised
the features of the boatswain in the person
they were burying, perhaps the same idea
might have occurred to him. But, after
having interred his friend, he had sedulously
averted his eyes from the faces of the dead.
Ignorant, therefore, of Philip's motives for
+
PROCURES WATER.
89
renewed indignation, he returned his hos-
tile glance, and the second contention en-
sued.
The rest of the night Lord Robert passed
in a sort of stupor, seated on the boatswain's
grave; from which he felt unable to rise
through extreme exhaustion. The first rays
of the sun drove him for shelter to the cave.
His thirst was excessive; and he had no
means of allaying it, unless he proceeded
either to the Valley of Limes or the spring
of water. The remembrance of Philip in-
duced him to prefer the latter; and thither,
with some difficulty, he crept rather than
walked. Having drank profusely, he filled
a large shell for a supply in the cave; for he
thought it probable he should never be able
to perform another journey to the stream;
and slowly and faintly returned to his com-
fortless dwelling in the rock. The chills of
the preceding day had terminated in the
burning heat of raging fever; and as he re-
traced his melancholy steps through the
sand, which reflected the intolerable rays of
the sun to his eyes, and surveyed the barren
10-4
8*
90
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
t
$
rocks and frightful basalts of which the
island was composed, he with a bitter sigh
recalled the verdure of his father's park,
and the shades of his native groves which
bounded that beautiful domain,
"But these," said Lord Robert, "I shall
never see again: I shall perish on this arid,
frightful spot, without a living creature near
who cares for me, except my poor Neptune!
-And you, my tender mother, who are so
benevolently solicitous to provide comforts for
the sick poor, what would be your feelings,
could you see your unhappy son stretched
on this burning flint!" continued he, as en-
tering the rocky chamber, he sank exhausted
on the floor. He thought his death was near;
yet he felt far from being in a proper frame
of mind to die. Like too many of the young
and thoughtless, if he were not profane, he
was careless in matters of religion; in this
awful moment, a thousand instances of ne-
glect and offence against his Creator occurred.
to his mind; and he felt that he would have
given worlds, had he possessed them, for a
few hours of the time he had so often abused.
MELANCHOLY RECOLLECTIONS.
He recollected, too, with bitter regret, his
pride, imperiousness, and implacability of
disposition; of this, his conduct to young
Harley was a frightful instance; he vainly
wished he could have recalled the past, but
that was not in his power; and he felt it very
doubtful, if for him a future in this world
would be granted. The present was all he
could call his own; and it behoved him to
make the best use he could of the precious
moments that were yet allowed him to make
his peace with God. But, alas! the confusion
incidental to fever had already attacked his
brain; and, though he felt the necessity of
penitence and prayer, it was no longer in his
power to collect his wandering thoughts, so
as to raise a single petition to the Throne of
Mercy. He was sensible that he was on the
brink of eternity; yet the minutes passed
rapidly away, leaving his mind in a state
between reason and delirium, yet conscious
of his danger, and the importance of that
time which was ebbing from him for ever.
His bodily sufferings, too, were dreadful.
Burning with fever, he had no means of
91
92
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
quenching his thirst he had long since
drained the last drop from the shell, and
could not replenish it; for the next morning
saw him raving in delirium, or sunk in long
and death-like fits of stupor, from which his
faithful Neptune strove in vain to arouse
him by his caresses.
VII.
RECONCILIATION.
PHILIP, in the mean time, had returned
to his comfortable hut in the Valley of
Limes, and laid himself down to rest; but
the image of Lord Robert, pale and languid
as he had seen him seated on the boatswain's
grave after their last altercation, pursued
him when awake, and haunted his slumbers
when he closed his eyes in sleep. In the
morning, Philip sedulously pursued his
useful employments, to divert these painful
thoughts. He had discovered on the other
side of the island some grass, the only nat-
1
REMORSE FOR MISCONDUCT.
ural production of the place, growing in long,
dry, silky tufts out of the clefts of the rocks.
He had cut several bundles of this grass, and
braided it into a soft, thick mat; this mat he
had fixed on a frame-work which he had
made, and formed it into a most comfortable
couch, rolling one end of the mat over for a
pillow. He was so completely occupied and
pleased with this employment, that he did
not think of Lord Robert, till, on stretching
his limbs upon this excellent bed, he remem-
bered how differently his unfortunate enemy
would sleep that night. He recollected that
he had seen nothing of him in the Valley
of Limes that day; and when he recalled the
reproaches and threats he had used the day
before, and reflected on Lord Robert's high
spirit, he thought it probable that he would
endure every suffering, rather than improve
his condition by procuring anything from
that spot. Of Neptune, Philip had seen
nothing since the preceding day, when he
had once visited the valley, and begged for
a share of his dinner; for Lord Robert had
peevishly chidden the dog for his importuni-
93
94
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
键
​ties; indeed, he had nothing to give him,
being too ill to go in search of food. Philip,
who was very fond of Neptune, and had
been accustomed to caress him when Lord
Robert was out of sight, had fed him, and
expected to see him again, but he did not
come; and Philip thought it likely that Lord
Robert was very ill; and he again bitterly
regretted having used such expressions as
had driven him from the valley.
The next day, Philip again visited the
beach, where he had never been before in
the meridian heat of the day, and when he
experienced the blinding effects of the sun-
beams, which soon occasioned him to feel,
though in a lesser degree, one of those head-
aches that had continually tortured his more
delicate rival, he wondered where Lord Ro-
bert could find shelter from the intense heat.
Actuated by more humane motives than
mere curiosity, he continued to pace the
beach, determining not to return till he had
seen Lord Robert. For some time he pur-
sued his solitary walk, without discovering
the object of his research. The sight of the
95
A VISIT TO A FALLEN ENEMY.
seaman's graves redoubled his pain of mind.
When he remembered the hopeless dejection
visible in Lord Robert's face, so different
from his usual animated expression of coun-
tenance, and combined it with the illness so
apparent in his whole person, the thought
crossed his mind, that he might have expired
without a human creature near him. Philip
shuddered as this dreadful idea presented
itself. He was busy with self-accusing
thoughts, when he paused before Lord Ro-
bert's cave, wishing, yet unwilling, to enter,
when Neptune sprang from the interior part.
of it, and bounding round him, looked up
wistfully in his face, and returned, as if to
invite him to follow. This Philip could not
prevail on himself to do. After waiting a
few minutes, Neptune came again; and, lay-
ing hold of his jacket with his teeth, endea-
voured to draw him into the cave-looking
at him in such an imploring manner, that
Philip could no longer resist his entreaties,
notwithstanding the reluctance he felt at in-
truding himself into Lord Robert's presence.
On entering the cave he beheld the unfor-
५.
96
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
tunate young nobleman stretched on the
flinty floor in a stupor, so nearly resembling
death, that Philip started back in horror;
and so much had the violence of the disorder
changed the appearance of his once beautiful
countenance, that his dearest friends would
scarcely have recognised his convulsed and
livid features. On a second glance, Philip
discovered that he still breathed, but was
unconscious of his approach. His heavy
eyes, half closed and fixed, had lost their
expression of spirit and intelligence; his lips
appeared parched and burning; and his light
brown ringlets hung in disordered profusion,
tangled and neglected, over his forehead.
At this heart-rending sight, Philip, forget-
ful of the enmity that had subsisted between
him and the unhappy sufferer, turned away,
and wept bitterly. It was with feelings of
the most bitter compunction he recalled the
altercation that had passed over the boat-
swain's grave-particularly when he expe-
rienced the stifling closeness of the cave,
where he felt a difficulty in respiring; and
reflected, that his menaces had had the effect
BITTER REFLECTIONS.
of driving Lord Robert from the only tem-
perate spot on the island.
Philip could form some idea of his Lord-
ship's sufferings, from the recollection of an
autumnal fever which had attacked him in
his childhood, and nearly brought him to the
brink of the grave; he remembered how
much he had suffered from thirst, and the
relief he had felt from some ices which the
Marchioness, Lord Robert's mother, had
brought him in her carriage. That noble
lady had supplied him with the most delicate
fruits from the hot-house; and his mother
believed that these ices and fruits, which
he took with so much avidity, had saved his
life.
97
"And yet," said Philip, "wretch that I
am! I see her darling son, through the cri-
minal indulgence of my resentful feelings to-
wards him, reduced to a state so deplorable,
that, if his fond mother could behold him,
the sight would kill her."
Here Philip was interrupted by Lord Ro-
bert's trying to articulate something; but sc
very faint was the attempt, that it was not
9
G
98
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
till he had knelt down by his side, and raised
his head on his arm, that he could catch his
imperfect accents, or distinguish what he in-
tended to express. Alas! it was but one
word-"Water" and that repeated inces-
santly, in tones of agony, which Philip, some
years after that melancholy period, declared
that night and day he strove in vain to for-
get and at that moment, when he beheld
the parched and blackening lips from which
those sounds proceeded, they pierced his
heart with an anguish no tongue can describe.
Fortunately he had a lime in his pocket,
with the juice of which he moistened the suf
ferer's mouth. Some minutes elapsed before
this appeared to have the least effect; but at
length his Lordship became conscious of the
relief, and swallowed with avidity the cool-
ing fluid; and, opening his languid eyes, he
turned them on Philip with an expression
of gratitude which overpaid him for his exer-
tions. It was evident, however, that he took
him for some other person; for, extending
his arms towards him, he called him "Au-
gustus! his beloved brother !" and besought
99
HUMANITY IN EXERCISE.
him, in the most pathetic manner, "to remove
him from that horrid place, and to let him
have a better bed than the hard one on which
he lay, which he assured him had sadly
bruised his body."
"Alas! poor sufferer!" said Philip, "if you
knew to whom you were addressing these
tender names and moving petitions for assist-
ance, your proud spirit would make you re-
ject my aid with scorn, and you would perish
rather than accept it."
"However," continued he, "though I fear
my help comes too late, yet you shall at least
die in a more comfortable place than this
dreary cave."
So saying, with some exertion of his
strength, he raised the sufferer, who had
again relapsed into a state of insensibility,
from the ground; and, taking him in his
arms, he proceeded to carry him to the Val-
ley of Limes.
The touch of his dry and burning hand
gave a sensation of pain to Philip, when it
came in contact with his own, and his head
dropped in powerless languor on his shoul-
A
100
THE RIVAL CRUSOES. ·
der. Philip rested by the spring of water,
and bathed Lord Robert's face and hands in
the cool element: this seemed to revive him
a little, and he drank eagerly from a shell
of water which Philip held to his burning
lips. Had it not been for this refreshment,
the sufferer must have expired from thirst.
and exhaustion before they arrived at the
valley. As it was, he appeared to endure so
much pain from his exposure to the heat of
the sun, that Philip uttered an expression of
thankfulness when he reached the shelter of
the hut, and laid his helpless burden on the
couch of matting within it. But Lord Robert
had swooned from weakness and fatigue,
and lay for many hours without motion or
sensation.
Philip now busied himself in procuring a
large supply both of water and limes; and,
mixing the juice of the limes in water, con-
tinually bathed the sufferer's hands and tem-
ples with this refreshing liquid, watching
anxiously for returning life. The next day
Lord Robert opened his eyes, and expressed
his surprise and pleasure at finding his con-
¿
FEVERISH WANDERINGS.
dition so much improved. But his reason
was lost in delirium; he talked incessantly;
and, addressing Philip by the name of his
brother, bestowed on him the most endear-
ing expressions of affection, and described to
him the particulars of his illness, and all his
dreadful privations, in a manner pathetically
minute.
101
Philip, deeply interested, and forgetting
that he spoke under the influence of delirium,
anxiously exclaimed, "Why did you not re-
turn to the Valley of Limes ?"-" Because,"
replied his Lordship, wholly unconscious to
whom he spoke, "I was ill and alone, and
totally unable to cope with that insolent
Harley, who menaced me with his superior
strength."
Philip started at hearing his name so men-
tioned; and Lord Robert continued at inter-
vals to speak on this subject, sometimes pas-
sionately blaming himself, and at other
times, with all the consistency of delirium,
bitterly complaining of Philip.
Philip was greatly surprised and agitated,
when, after much unconnected wandering,
9*
102
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
}
Lord Robert said: "You, Augustus, always
blamed me about that Philip Harley, and
said you knew him to be an estimable youth,
and that he had been hardly used through a
prejudice I had against him; but what would
you have thought, Augustus, had you seen
him clench his hand and threaten your un-
happy brother with personal ill-treatment,
when he was too ill to defend himself from
his violence?"
Philip blushed deeply when he heard this
for he remembered using this gesture in the
vehemence of his last wrathful address to
Lord Robert; and now that he found how ill
he had been at that time, he felt doubly
ashamed of having suffered himself to be so
transported by passion.
From these self-reproaches he was again
roused by Lord Robert's speaking; but he
had wandered to a different subject, and evi-
dently imagined himself at his own home, for
he demanded "ices, peaches, and strawber-
ries,” in a tone of feverish impatience; and
Philip was at a loss how to satisfy these
cravings; but when at last Lord Robert men-
*
ANIMOSITY EXTINGUISHED.
tioned "grapes," Philip remembered those
that were ripening on the roof of the hut,
and hastened to see if any were fit to eat;
though his patient, in a tone of displeasure,
called him to return and send a servant to
execute his orders, for he did not choose to
be left alone. This was, however, unavoid-
able; and in a moment he returned with a
rich cluster, perfectly ripe. Lord Robert
eagerly seized them, with an exclamation of
joy; but he was reduced to such a state of
weakness, that he was unable to convey
them to his mouth; and resigning the cluster
to Philip, begged him to feed him. Philip
obeyed, and attended to all his whims with.
the greatest patience. At length, exhausted
by the volubility of delirium, he sank again
into a death-like stupor, in which he lay,
without sense or motion, the whole of the
night, and till the next day was far advanced.
Philip, who had continued to bathe hist
hands and face at intervals, perceived by the
painful motion of his lips that he wanted some-
thing to drink. Philip raised his head, and
supported it on his bosom, while he held to
103
$3
104
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
K
his lips a shell full of the juice of limes and
grapes. Lord Robert drank this delicious
beverage eagerly; then opening his eyes,
which Philip thought would never again have
unclosed, he looked up in his face, as if to
thank him for the relief; and Philip saw by
the expression of wonder and astonishment in
those eyes, so lately fixed and rayless, that he
knew him, and was no longer under the in-
fluence of delirium. A deep crimson mounted
to his pallid cheek, as he said—“Harley, I
don't deserve this kindness at your hands:"
and with a deep sigh he again relapsed into in-
sensibility. The sound of his voice, and the
manner in which he pronounced this short
sentence, thrilled to Philip's heart; and he
hung over him with a tender interest, watch-
ing the progress of his disorder with the most
intense anxiety. Philip had been little ac-
customed to witness illness: he had scarcely
ever watched by a sick-bed, with the excep-
tion of the illness of his sister, who had died;
but death had laid so gentle a hand on her,
that her decease rather resembled the wither-
ing of a flower than the passage of a mortal
ANIMOSITY EXTinguished.
105
to the grave: far different from the terrific
advances of a raging tropical fever, which
brought Lord Robert, through stages of exqui-
site suffering, nearly to the eve of dissolution.
The sight of these sufferings had extin-
guished the last spark of animosity in Philip's
bosom; and it was with feelings nearly allied
to those with which he contemplated the
death-bed of that beloved sister, that he await-
ed the termination of Lord Robert's disorder.
That it would be fatal, he doubted not, for
he watched in vain for a second interval of
reason; but day after day passed, without the
slightest intermission of suffering; but the
fever seemed rather to increase in violence,
and his Lordship's wanderings from reason
assumed a more gloomy character, in which
the most unbounded expressions of self-re-
proach had a principal share. No longer
petulant and impatient, he appeared sunk in
the deepest despondency; and this turn in
the disease alarmed Philip more than his most
extravagant fits of raving. It was truly awful
to see a fellow-creature, and, alas! a very
erring one, on the brink of eternity, without
106
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
a ray of reason being granted him to prepare
to meet his great account. It then occurred
to Philip, that many of the faults of which the
unhappy sufferer accused himself, had been
occasioned by his own pertinacity in throwing
himself in his way, and provoking him to vio-
lent conduct; by that means setting his fiery
temper in a blaze, and causing his evil pas-
sions to be ever uppermost, till they prompted
him to commit those injuries for which he
now suffered the most bitter remorse.
"Had I avoided him half as carefully as I
sought him," exclaimed Philip, "he would
soon have forgotten an individual so much
beneath his own rank. I am accountable for
many of his errors. True, he abused his
power on board the Diomede; but how have
I behaved since our residence on this island?"
Philip pursued these self-accusing reflec-
tions as he was kneeling by Lord Robert's side,
and fanning him with the wing of the sea-fowl,
which Neptune had brought him the day be-
fore. The weather had been intensely hot,
and attended with thunder and lightning; but
as the day declined, some heavy rain descend-
T
RETURN TO REASON.
107
ed, which had the effect of cooling the burn-
ing earth. This salutary change produced
an alteration in Lord Robert, who opening
his eyes, gazed round him in indescribable
astonishment. At last he said, "Where am
I? How came I here ?"
(l
"Be composed, my Lord," said Philip,
much agitated; for he had long dreaded the
moment when Lord Robert would ask this
question, and he had meditated to address
such words to him as would soothe his proud
feelings; but he found that he could not speak;
he only regarded his Lordship with a trou-
bled countenance, dropping the feathers with
which, till now, he had continued to fan him.
Harley," said Lord Robert, the flush of
fever fading to a deadly paleness as he spoke,
"I now comprehend my situation; cease to
oppress me with this unmerited kindness!"
Then speaking in a less collected manner:
"No! it must not be! I have injured you too
deeply! Go, leave the oppressor to die alone;
I saw you suffering, and did not pity you;
and it is not fit for the merciless to receive
mercy !"
108
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
-
He turned away his face, and covered it
with his emaciated hands; but Philip knew,
by the convulsive heaving of his bosom, that
he was weeping. Philip, from a feeling of
delicacy, withdrew to a little distance, to
avoid the intrusive appearance of watching
Lord Robert's emotions; and he feared to in-
crease his agitation, or offend his proud spirit,
by even offering a word of comfort. Yet his
caution was unnecessary, for the tears Lord
Robert shed were not those of humbled pride,
but they were those of a broken and contrite
spirit; they were such tears as would occa-
sion joy in Heaven, for they were those of
true penitence; and Lord Robert was not
ashamed of indulging in them, neither did he
seek to conceal their traces from Philip, when
he turned his eyes towards him, and mo-
tioned him to approach.
แ
66
Harley," said he, "can you forgive me?"
Ah, my Lord," said Philip, "I have to
the full as much reason to ask your forgive-
We have both erred, from the indul-
gence of an implacable temper; and if you
repent of your offences as much as I have
ness.
MUTUAL FORGIVENESS.
done of my trespasses against you, we may
both be, in future, more acceptable in the
eyes of our Heavenly Father, to whom
'hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness,'
are most offensive."
109
"Harley," said his Lordship, "you are too
generous! How could I so cruelly persecute
one capable of such noble conduct!"
"Cease to accuse yourself, my Lord; you
are too ill to continue this agitating conversa-
tion," said Philip, observing Lord Robert
look very pale.
me;
"No," returned Lord Robert; "I feel my
thoughts begin to grow confused! This may
be the last interval of reason vouchsafed
and I would willingly make use of it to assure
you that I die at peace with you, and blessing
you; and may your last hours be sweetened
by the remembrance of your generous conduct
to your enemy! When I am no more, save a
lock of my hair, and give it to my mother
when you return to England, which you will
soon have an opportunity of doing. Tell
her, if I wished to live, it was to see her
again, and to confess to my father that I
10
110
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
had been guilty of prejudicing him against
you, Harley, by misrepresenting the reason
of our first quarrel, which was the cause of
your being pressed. Tell me sincerely, can
you forgive me for that, Harley?"
"I can-I do!" replied Philip, approach-
ing close to the couch; "and, in proof that
your Lordship exchanges forgiveness with
me, give me your hand." Lord Robert
threw himself into his arms, and Philip felt
his tears wet his bosom. Yet at that mo-
ment each felt happier than he had done for
months before. But Philip became painfully
anxious for the invalid, the violence of whose
emotions brought on a fresh access of fever.
He began again to talk wildly, and Philip
strove in vain to repress his ravings, till at
length he sank into a death-like stupor,
scarcely giving any symptom of animation.
Philip now entertained the greatest appre-
hensions for his Lordship's life, and was him-
self surprised at the pain he felt at the idea of
losing him. He had evinced such full and
noble contrition for his errors, that Philip, for-
getting all his injuries, wondered how he had
RECONCILIATION.
ever borne a hatred so bitter against him.
That hatred had, indeed, changed gradually
into an affection so warm, that he was ready
to impute to his own faulty temper the blame
of all that had passed. "And, oh !” said he,
as he hung over the couch where Lord Robert
lay, apparently unconscious of his presence,
"who could think that I, who now watch so
anxiously every change of his pallid counte-
nance, could once have taken delight in pro-
voking him to fight with me, and then took
a savage pleasure in aiming my blows at his
face, and disfiguring his fine features with the
marks of my violence? Ruffian that I was!"
Here a gentle pressure from the hand he
held in his, convinced him that Lord Robert
was sensible, and had heard this soliloquy.
Philip started and coloured at this idea; and
Lord Robert said in a faint voice:-
111
+
"If you, my dear Harley, so severely
accuse yourself for what was a just retalia-
tion for my unfeeling arrogance, what must
be my feelings of self-condemnation for my
conduct on board the Diomede, on which I
cannot think without agony ?"
112
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
"Never think of it again, my Lord," said
Philip, to whom the appellation of "dear
Harley" had given a sensation of the greatest
pleasure; "let me beg you never again to
agitate yourself by a painful remembrance of
what is past: I would endure much to see
you well and happy."
After some time, Philip succeeded in sooth-
ing his patient into some degree of compo-
sure; and at length he had the satisfaction
of seeing him sink into a profound sleep.
Then, being worn out with anxious watching
and fatigue, he threw himself on the ground,
and enjoyed a calm and refreshing slumber.
When he awoke, it was about sunrise; and
seeing Lord Robert still asleep, he went out
to get a supply of fruit and turtle. On his
return, he found: Lord Robert awake and
evidently better; for he was returning the
caresses of Neptune, who certainly had de-
served his fondness, for he had been almost
as watchful and abstinent, and as attentive
to his master's sufferings, as Philip himself.
The patient extended his hand towards
Philip as he entered, who hastened to him
MUTUAL Kindness.
113
and inquired tenderly, "how long he had
been awake, and how he found himself?"
"Long enough to miss you, and well
enough to thank you for your unwearied
kindness," said Lord Robert, with a melan-
choly smile. Philip respectfully took the
hand that was extended towards him; and,
after expressing his pleasure at seeing him
so much recovered, began to busy himself in
procuring him all the comforts in his power.
Lord Robert, for the first time since his ill-
ness, was able to raise himself to wash his
hands and face in some water which Philip
brought him in a turtle-shell. After this
grateful refreshment, he attempted with his
pocket-comb to disentangle his ruffled and
matted hair; but his hands trembled so
much from weakness, that he sank exhausted
on the couch. Philip took the comb from
his hands, and with great care and patience
succeeded in smoothing and reducing to their
natural order these refractory ringlets. Lordi
Robert repeatedly bade him give himself no-
farther trouble, but take his knife and cut
them off as well as he could. But Philip,
10*
H
114
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
did not like to spoil the fine hair which
Lord Robert had once been proud of; and
had the Marchioness herself presided at this
operation, it could not have been more ten-
derly performed than by the hands of this
young sailor; and his patient appeared to
derive great benefit from this attention to his
personal comforts, though reduced to a state
of infantine weakness.
VIII.
A PRIZE.
LORD ROBERT now rapidly improved in
health, and was soon enabled, with the
assistance of Philip's arm, to walk in the
Valley of Limes in the cool of the morning.
Notwithstanding this improvement, however,
Philip continued to attend on him with the
most assiduous care; and even when he was
in a state of convalescence, still performed
for him all those little offices which he knew
Lord Robert had been accustomed to have
:
1
ADMITTED EQUALITY.
115
done for him by his attendants, though his
Lordship did not wish to consider himself
entitled to such services in his present situa-
tion.
One morning, Philip arose much earlier
than usual. On his return from the beach
with a load of wreck, he was much surprised,
not only to see Lord Robert up and dressed,
but employing himself in preparing the
breakfast. Philip threw down his load and
ran to him, exclaiming, "Why, my Lord,
did you rise till I was ready to assist you to
dress? And, above all, why do you fatigue
yourself by an employment so little suitable
to your rank?"
"Hush! hush! my dear Harley," returned
Lord Robert, laying his hand playfully on.
Philip's lips. "Not a word about my use-
less rank now! Remember we are equals
here!"
"Alas! my Lord," said Philip dejectedly,
"I perceive you have not wholly forgiven
me, or you would not repeat my imperti-
nence."
"Which had much truth in it, though I
**
116
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
took it so ill at that time," said Lord Robert,
laughing. "However, Harley, without wish-
ing to refer to unpleasant occurrences, or
designing to wound your feelings, (which I
should be a most ungrateful, cold-hearted fel-
low, were I to do,) I must tell you, that I
cannot consent to be attended on with the
same deference as if I were his Britannic
Majesty in retirement,—at least, while I have
done nothing to merit such distinction."
"Ah! my Lord," said Philip, "if you knew
the pleasure which the performance of these
little services affords me, you would not wish
to deprive me of it: and, indeed, nothing but
your absolute prohibition shall prevent me
from continuing them."
"You are a noble-minded fellow, Harley;
but it is not for me to talk of prohibiting or
commanding here, where I am your superior
in nothing-
""
(
Again, my Lord!" said Philip, turning
away.
แ
Where," answered his Lordship, "I am
your inferior in everything, and am so much
in love with your just way of thinking, and
117
AMICABLE RAILLERY.
noble independence, that I would willingly
imitate both; and, my dear Philip, you must
not take it ill, if I refuse to live by your la
bours while I have hands of my own. Tell
me, Harley, will you accept such an awk-
ward fellow as I have proved myself to be,
for your pupil ?"
"I cannot refuse you anything," said
Philip; "but while you are so debilitated
from your long illness, you neither must nor
shall do anything to fatigue yourself.”
So saying, he proceeded to serve up the
turtle which Lord Robert had stewed for
breakfast; reproaching him, as he did so, for
demeaning himself by performing the office.
of a cook.
Lord Robert, laughing, told him that it
encouraged him not a little in his design of
becoming useful, to observe that his last at-
tempt of that kind had succeeded so much
better than his first. "But," continued he,
"perseverance overcomes all difficulties; and
before long, I may become as good a carpenter
as I have this morning proved myself a cook."
Philip shook his head, and looked grave.
118
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
"So you doubt my abilities," continued
Lord Robert, who would not understand him;
"now that is mortifying, Harley! But I
forgive you, considering that the circum-
stance of the three-legged stool could not
have impressed you with a very favourable
opinion of my genius in such matters.”
"Let me entreat your Lordship never to
allude to my conduct in that affair again,"
said Philip.
"L
Now, on the contrary," returned Lord
Robert gaily, "I have serious thoughts of
fetching the aforesaid stool from under the
tree where I so petulantly flung it; and of
soliciting you to lend me that rule and saw,
which I so rudely refused when you would
have permitted me to make use of them to
correct my blunders; which was very gene-
rous on your part, considering how awk-
wardly I handled my only tool, and how
easily I might have injured yours."
Philip was astonished at the ease and frank-
ness with which Lord Robert spoke of these
circumstances, but again implored him not
to allude to the past.
*9
119
A PRIZE FROM THE SEA.
"Had you told me anything but the truth,"
replied Lord Robert, "perhaps I might be
excused if I repeated your remarks with dis-
pleasure. But the lesson was too salutary
to be forgotten. In common with many of
high birth, I have been too much accustomed
to the language of flattery, instead of that of
truth and justice; till, forgetting the relative
obligations of society, and never checking
the defects of my temper, I was led to com-
mit outrages on every one who did not yield
a blind submission to my whims. You, Har-
ley, have opened my eyes to my faults; and
it will, in future, be my constant study to
correct them, convinced, as I now am, of the
folly of trusting to rank and riches alone for
influence and consideration among my fel-
low-creatures."
The day after this conversation, Lord Ro-
bert was well enough to accompany Philip
to the beach, to seek for turtles' eggs. In
this search they wandered to a different part
of the island, and Lord Robert discovered,
at a little distance, something dark and large
heaving among the surf; he called Philip's
120
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
7
attention to it, who soon got it on shore; and
they found it to be a chest belonging to some
of the unfortunate crew of the Diomede; it
was heavy, but Philip soon carried it to the
hut.
"What do you think it contains?” said
Lord Robert, as Philip was forcing the lid.
"Tools, I hope," said Philip; "for the
chest is weighty." And as he spoke, he used
so powerful an effort that the lid gave way
to his force.
"Not tools, but books!" exclaimed Lord
Robert, highly delighted at the sight which
presented itself on Philip's removing the lid.
Philip, however, was disappointed.
"Tools would have been of unspeakable
service," said he, almost vexed at the joy
Lord Robert expressed at the sight of the
books.
"But these will be of infinitely more ser-
vice,” replied Lord Robert, taking one of the
books and turning to the title-page; but his
lip quivered as he read the name there writ-
ten, which was "Lucius Cary."
"Alas! poor Cary !" said he, in an altered
CONTENTS OF THE CHEST.
tone of voice; "was it your chest that we
thought ourselves so fortunate in finding,
and that we opened with such glee?"
Philip, deeply affected, softly closed the
lid: for they both were in too melancholy a
mood to continue to examine the contents
of the chest; nor was it till several days had
passed that they assumed firmness enough
to open it again.
They found in this chest a complete set of
mathematical instruments, and a small but
valuable selection of books, fitting for the
library of a young officer; comprising the
choicest works on navigation, astronomy,
and geometry; and two or three volumes of
poetry and history. Some of these were
wetted by the sea-water, but Lord Robert
carefully spread them to dry. They also
found a few changes of linen, an undress
jacket or two; and Lord Robert drew forth
with much grief, from a corner of the chest,
Cary's flute.
121
"This," said he, "should I ever be per-
mitted to revisit my native country, I will
carry to England, and keep as long as I
1
*
11
3
122
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
live, in memory of our deceased friend."
Though they were in sad want of linen
and clothes, Lord Robert felt a pang of re-
gret when he saw Philip busy in removing
his epaulet to Cary's half-uniform jacket, and
laying out for his use some of his shirts and
cravats, which, however, were of the greatest
use to him, and highly beneficial to his
health.
Soon after this, the rainy season set in,
which is usual to these latitudes; and now
they found a source of delight and advantage
in the books which had been so opportunely
thrown in their way. Lord Robert was an
accomplished young man; he had received a
most superior education; and was not only
perfect in all acquirements befitting his rank,
but had made a considerable progress in
those sciences which are necessary to be
known in order to obtain perfection in naval
duties.* This knowledge he was desirous
* The sciences requisite to form a complete seaman are
beautifully described by Falconer:-
M
"Him Science taught by mystic lore to trace
The planets wheeling in eternal race;
MUTUAL ATTACHMENT.
123
of imparting to young Harley, who, at Lord
Robert's earnest request, became his pupil in
geometry and nautical astronomy, and im-
proved rapidly under his tuition.
This was to Philip the happiest period of
To mark the ship in floating balance held,
By earth attracted, and by seas repelled;
Or point her devious track through climes unknown,
That leads to every shore, and every zone.—
He saw the moon through heaven's blue concave glide,
And into motion charm the expanding tide;
While earth impetuous round her axle rolls,
Exalts her watery zone, and sinks the poles.
Light and attraction from their genial source,
He saw still wandering with diminish'd force;
While on the margin of declining day
Night's shadowy cone reluctant melts away."
To add to this,
"That never seaman more serenely brave
Led Britain's conquering squadrons o'er the wave."
The Shipwreck.
Perhaps it will be considered that Falconer's beautiful
poem is too generally known to give these extracts the
charm of novelty; yet surely every one who is acquainted
with the talents and fate of Falconer will feel almost a tender
emotion when his writings are alluded to, from a combina-
tion of circumstances. His poem is very interesting, his
character and fate are still more so, and his memory is
thrice hallowed and will be immortalized by the beautiful
allusion to his Shipwreck in the "Pleasures of Hope."
124
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
his life; he had received from his father a
good plain education, which he had improved
by reading the best books he could procure;
but now he found the acquirement of higher
branches of knowledge still more delightful;
and the life he led was so calm and peaceful,
and Lord Robert's society and manners were
so charming, that he tasted on this island
pleasures such as he had never before expe-
rienced. It is not to be wondered at, there-
fore, that the event which Lord Robert anti-
cipated with much joy, should give him pain
whenever he thought of it; namely, the ar-
rival of some vessel from the coast of Africa,
on its way to Brazil, which would take them
from the island.
The affection which he had formed for his
high-born companion was now far stronger
than ever his animosity had been; and cer-
tainly Lord Robert had, since his illness, con-
ducted himself in a manner deserving even
the unbounded attachment which his lowly
but warm-hearted friend testified towards
him. No longer proud and irritable, his
behaviour was gentle, mild, and considerate;
A TENDER FRIENDSHIP.
his manners, always elegant and polished,
possessed a charm altogether irresistible; and
his conversation, pure, refined, and chiefly
directed to intellectual subjects, was so de-
lightful, that Philip thought his society would
unfit him for any other.
IX.
RESCUE.
125
AS S Philip had passed the greater part of
his life in seclusion from those of his
own age and station, his manners and mind
were free from the taint which impure and
corrupt society often gives; and when he
was by chance thrown in contact with his
equals, he shrunk with horror from vice
and coarseness; and preferred, in his lei-
sure hours, to nurse and amuse his suffer-
ing sister, or to pore over Baker's Chroni-
cle, Drayton's Polyolbion, or Sir Walter
Raleigh's History of the World, (which an-
cient treasures his father possessed,) to the
-
11*
xxx
126
to
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
most enlivening games of quoits or foot-ball.
The taste he had formed for mental pur-
suits since he had been on the island, brought
with it a painful consciousness of the difference
between Lord Robert's rank and his own;
and he thought it very improbable, that so
elegant and accomplished a young man could
ever condescend to form a friendship with
him, though he might retain a grateful sense
of the assistance which he had subsequently
rendered him.
Philip had made a pretty latticed porch to
the hut, and trained the vine over it, that
Lord Robert might enjoy the cool of the
evening, without being exposed to the nox-
ious effect of the dews. Here then, after
spending the day in study or useful employ-
ment, they passed the evening, conversing
together, or examining the starry heavens,
and noting constellations, which appear very
different from those of Europe. Sometimes,
Lord Robert would play on Cary's flute;
but though it was enchanting to listen to this
music in the stillness of a moonlight evening,
when all the fire-flies in the island were col-
A TENDER FRIENDSHIP.
127
lected in this only spot of verdure, and were
blazing round them, and everything above
and around accorded so well with these sweet
sounds, yet it was forbidden pleasure; for
playing on the flute was injurious to Lord
Robert's health; and Philip, though he loved
music, and this music most of all, would
often take the flute almost by force from the
hands of his noble friend, who, being a fine
performer, and much attached to music,
never knew how to resign it in prudent
time.
The happiness Philip now enjoyed was
only interrupted by the pain he felt when-
ever the probability was mentioned of their
leaving the island. Lord Robert expected
that, when certain winds set in, some vessel
or other would touch at the island for water
or turtle; and Philip guessed, that when they
were taken from their present abode, this de-
lightful intercourse would cease, and Lord
Robert would be for ever separated from him
by the forms of society. This made him feel
almost pettish when he found that, when
these winds commenced, Lord Robert left
1
128
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
him for hours, and passed his time leaning
against the cross on the hill, making obser-
vations through his perspective-glass; while
Philip remained in the valley, employing
himself for their mutual benefit. But though
he felt almost angry with Lord Robert for
depriving him so much of his company, yet
he never presumed to remonstrate with him.
on this or any other subject; and when he
saw him approach the valley on his return,
he would forget all his repinings, and hasten
to meet him, and offer his arm for his support,
if he seemed faint or fatigued. It is not sur-
prising that Lord Robert returned this tender
affection with the utmost regard. He now
felt the gratifying conviction, that it was not
to the superiority of his rank and power, but
to his virtues, his acquirements, and charm-
ing manners, that he owed his influence over
the heart of one on whom his situation in
life had made no impression, and who had
denied him the slightest respect till he had
proved himself deserving of it; and he could
not help remarking, that he had never, when
in the height of his pride and power, received
"SAIL, O!"
half the real deference, or marks of delicate
attention, which had been shown him since
his residence on the island, by his only com-
panion and former enemy, Philip Harley.
One afternoon, as Philip was employing
himself in the valley, and had begun to won-
der at the long absence of his noble compa-
nion, Lord Robert rushed into the hut, and,
with an animation of manner Philip had not
observed in him for a long time, said: "Jay!
joy! my dear Harley! I have just seen a
sail, and have hastened home to bring you
the delightful news."
“Is that all?” said Philip in a melancholy
129
tone.
((
'No, not all," replied Lord Robert: "for
I climbed to the top of the cross, and hoisted
my handkerchief as a signal of distress.
And the lads are now making the island!
And we shall see Old England again, my
boy."
But Philip Harley did not seem to parti-
cipate in his delight; for he looked grave
and thoughtful.
"How now!" said Lord Robert; "what
130
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
are these dismal looks for? Shall
you be sor-
ry to see your home again? Or does the name
of England recall to your remembrance
some of my former exploits? Or do you
think, if I found myself on board ship once
more, I should feel the temptation of au-
thority, and play the tyrant again ?"
"No," replied Philip, sighing; "you do
me great injustice if you suppose that I can
for a moment form such an opinion of your
Lordship."
"My Lordship, too! Very formal, Mr.
Harley-But, Philip, my dear fellow, tell
me, what is the matter with you?"
Philip did not speak.
"Nay, then, Harley," said Lord Robert,
taking both his hands, "I shall soon begin
to think that you are willing to consider our
present amity only in the light of a truce,
occasioned by the breaking out of a pesti-
lence; and that you are anxious to recom-
mence hostilities as soon as an opportunity
offers. But tell me, without more ado, are
you offended with me?"
"Your Lordship is very gay this after-
FRIENDLY BANTER.
131
noon," said Philip gravely. "But I hope I
have seen my own errors in too strong a
light, and am too well convinced of my own
insignificance, ever to take offence at any-
thing done by a person of your rank and
consequence.
11
Lord Robert now appeared much wound-
ed, and asked him seriously, what was the
reason of this strange behaviour; and Philip,
who could not bear the idea of giving him
pain, replied-
"How can I share in your joy at the pros-
pect of leaving the island, when that event
will separate us for ever?"
"How so?" said Lord Robert, laughing.
"To be sure, you don't mean to remain here
playing Robinson Crusoe or the Hermit
Quarl, by yourself?"
"No," said Philip, sorrowfully, "that is
not my intention; though, perhaps, the wi-
sest thing I could do. But the forms of so-
ciety, you well know, will as effectually
separate us, as if I were to remain here."
"Lord Robert's eyes brightened with more
than usual animation, as he exclaimed-
and:
132
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
"Is that all?-Am I, then, so dear to you,
Harley ?"
The tears glistened in Philip's eyes; and
Lord Robert pressing his hand, cried, "Cou-
rage, man! We shall find a way to satisfy
the most precise on the article of etiquette ?"
So saying, he hastened to the beach;
where he had the satisfaction of seeing the
boat rowing rapidly towards the shore.
They found that the vessel was a Portu-
guese merchant ship; and from the know-
ledge Lord Robert possessed of Spanish, he
had no difficulty in making himself under-
stood by the mariners, who agreed to take
him to the port of Rio de Janeiro, to which
place they were bound; for they only landed
to obtain a fresh supply of water.
As our adventurers were now to leave the
island in a few hours, Philip bade a mourn-
ful adieu to the hut, where he had passed so
many happy hours, and conveyed their little
property to the beach; while Lord Robert
amused himself by engraving the following
inscription on the cross.
"On the 3rd of June, 17-, Lieutenant
133
A SURPRISE.
Lord Robert Summers, and Philip Harley,
of his Britannic Majesty's ship of war the
Diomede, were by the especial mercy of God
preserved from the fury of the waves, and
permitted to land safely on this island;
where, after enduring many hardships, they
became reconciled to their situation, and
passed six months in a state of great happi-
ness, and were at last removed by the Bra-
zilian ship St. Sebastian."
X.
A SURPRISE.
THEIR voyage from the island (to which
Lord Robert gave the name of the Isle
of Probation) was short and prosperous; and
in less time than they could have expected,
they entered the harbour of Rio de Janeiro.
Here they began to feel some of the diffi-
culties of their situation. Lord Robert had
a few pieces of gold about him; but when
they made the coast of Brazil, the Portu-
12
134
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
guese master did not fail to make such a
demand on the young Englishman, as re-
duced his whole stock to half a moidore and
a few pieces of silver; and these the sailors,
on some pretence or other, contrived to ex-
tort from him; for being of a generous
temper, and always accustomed to have
money at command, his Lordship knew not
how to refuse it, even when the prospect of
want appeared before him. Philip thought
him imprudent, and asked how he proposed
reaching England?
"Oh," returned he, in a careless, light-
hearted manner, " we are both able seamen;
and, at the worst, we can work our passage
in the first Portuguese vessel that sails for
Lisbon: and then, you know, my lad, we
are within a stone's throw of Old England."
"You work your passage to Europe!" said
Philip, regarding him with a look of aston-
ishment. "Does your Lordship mean to de-
grade your rank and talents by taking the
berth of a common seaman ?"
"Once, perhaps, I might have been alarm-
ed at such an idea," said Lord Robert; "but
135
A SEAMAN'S IMPROVIDENCE.
since my residence on the Island of Proba-
tion, I have learnt the useful lesson, that
nothing is really disgraceful but vice; and
that no useful employment can degrade a
man, let his rank be what it may, if there is
an actual necessity for his taking it upon
him. Of course, I, Lord Robert Summers,
who have the honour to hold the rank of
Lieutenant in his Majesty's navy, would not
willingly take upon myself the post of a
common sailor in the Portuguese service:
but will not that be less disgraceful than ap-
plying to some convent here for relief, and
living lazily on their charity till some Eng-
lish ship of war arrives, whose officers, even
if they disbelieve my noble birth, may, by
cross-questioning me, contrive to recognise
my rank on the navy-list ?"
"L
'But surely it was thoughtless of your
Lordship to give away your last shilling to
those imposing fellows, when you have no
means of procuring necessaries in a foreign
land; and, you know, your health is still
delicate."
Lord Robert, laughing, still defended his
136
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
extravagance, pretending that it was not for
the honour of the British Navy for a young
officer who wore an epaulet and the remains
of a white lapel, to appear shabby to the crew
of a foreign vessel, or behave as if a handful
of silver was of the least consequence to him.
"But," continued he, "I never felt the
want of money enough to know the value
of it. Perhaps, as there is no infliction of
Providence sent in vain, I may, in the pri
vations which I shall most likely suffer in
the Brazils, be cured of my bad habit of
thoughtless extravagance; and if I can con-
trive to leave one of my follies at every port
we touch at in our return, I may chance to
arrive at home a very perfect character."
In the afternoon, the vessel approached
the town; and Lord Robert's attention was
attracted by the appearance of a fine ship
lying in the King's dock: slapping Philip's
shoulder, he exclaimed,
"Look at that vessel, Harley! I protest,
if her rigging were not evidently Portu-
guese, I should declare it was our old friend
the Diomede! But, alas! that brave bark
A GOOD RESOLUTION VIOLATED.
foundered in the heavy gale which we
escaped."
Philip did not perceive the resemblance,
and tried in vain to restrain the impatient
tone of authority in which Lord Robert or-
dered the Portuguese sailors to lower a boat,
and row him and his friend alongside the
ship of war, which lay in the wet dock. "If
these fellows knew the state of your Lord-
ship's purse, they would not move their oars
quite so nimbly," said Philip, when they were
in the boat; "neither would they pay such
regard to your impatient gestures to quicken
their motions; and you might chance to get
thrown into the sea, in return for your vocif-
erating, in Spanish, that they are the laziest
dogs you ever met with."
137
"But, Philip, how came you, who are not
quite so familiar in the Spanish terms of
abuse as I am, to guess what I was saying to
them ?"
"Truly, my Lord," said Philip, "I guessed,
by your tone and manner, that you were
not addressing the most polite expressions to
them: and it would perhaps be prudent to
12*
138
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
remember, that you are not their command-
ing officer; therefore, they are not obliged
to put up with any incivility."
""
True, Philip; I certainly have no right
to abuse them; and I perceive I have already
violated one of my good resolutions, by giv-
ing way to my usual intemperance of tongue,
on a very slight occasion. Tell me, Harley,
were you not astonished, after all I had de-
termined on that subject, to see me swagger-
ing and ordering about me, in the boat, quite
in my old way?"
"No, my Lord," said Philip dryly; "for
I have always heard that good resolutions.
are much easier made than adhered to."
Well, well my dear Harley, I must
exert all my strength of mind to adhere to
mine, though I own this is but a bad begin-
ning."
As he spoke, they approached near enough
to the vessel to distinguish her build by the
naked eye.
"It is a British ship of the line, though
Portuguese rigged!" exclaimed Lord Robert,
starting up in the boat.
66
139
HAPPY RESTORATION.
"It is the Diomede itself!" said Philip,
dropping Lord Robert's perspective-glass
into the water, through which he had been
examining the figure-head.
The sight of this vessel brought a thousand
agonizing remembrances to Philip's mind;
and he sank on one of the benches, almost
annoyed by the ardent Lord Robert, who,
as they dashed up the river, besought the
rowers in the most moving Spanish he could
command, to redouble their speed. He
laughed and wept by turns; till the men,
shrugging their shoulders, protested by all
their saints that the young officer was the
maddest Englishman they ever had the hon-
our of rowing.
"Oh, my beloved uncle! My heroic com-
mander! Shall I see you again ?" exclaimed
Lord Robert, as the sailors rested on their
oars under the stern of the vessel: and in
another moment, he stood on the deck of
the Diomede, to the inexpressible astonish-
ment of her officers and crew.
The bustle on deck brought Sir Henry
Stanley to the scene of action; as he ad-
140
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
vanced, he was struck by the exclamations
of-
"Can it be? Is it possible?" On his
nearer approach, he could scarcely credit the
evidence of his own eyes, when he beheld his
lost nephew; altered, it is true, from the
hardships he had undergone; for he looked
pale and thin, and rather consumptive, and
was grown considerably taller. He was lean-
ing on the arm of Philip Harley, his former
enemy, who now seemed to regard him with
the greatest affection. Sir Henry, like the
rest of the officers and crew, was inclined to
doubt the reality of what he saw; when his
impetuous nephew, catching a glimpse of his
majestic figure, broke through the group that
surrounded him, and, throwing himself into
his arms, buried his head in his bosom, and
sobbed aloud. Sir Henry, who fondly loved.
this young man, and had mourned his loss as
for that of an only son, now felt himself
overpowered by his joy at so unexpectedly
beholding him.
"Look up, my dear boy!" he said, at
length recovering his firmness. "Look up,
K/1
141
PLEASURABLE EMOTIONS.
and let me once more behold that beloved
face, which I never thought to have seen
again."
Lord Robert raised his head, and smiled
through his tears on his uncle; but again,
yielding to the joy of seeing that dear friend
alive, he concealed his face on Sir Henry's
shoulder, and wept passionately. Sir Henry
was at last distressed by his agitation, and
forced himself to chide him for giving away
to such an excessive indulgence of his feel-
ings.
"Compose yourself, my dear boy !" said
he; "or you will give these gentlemen rea-
son to suspect that it is one of your sisters,
who has taken it into her head to assume the
appearance of my brave young lieutenant."
Lord Robert was ashamed of giving away
to his emotions so publicly; till, having in
some degree collected himself, he looked in
his uncle's face, and was pleased to find that
his eyes were full of tears, notwithstanding
the reproof he had just administered to
him.
"And now," said Sir Henry, "I hope that
142
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
you will consider how powerfully the curi-
osity of all present is excited, to learn by
what means you have been enabled to ap-
pear among us alive and well, when we
thought we saw you perish before our eyes,
without being able to render you any assist-
ance, and after we had deeply deplored your
loss."
Lord Robert stepped back to the spot
where he had left Philip, and taking him by
the arm, led him to his uncle.
"For this interview," said he, "under the
especial providence of God, you must thank
my kind preserver, the brave and noble-
minded Harley."
Sir Henry graciously presented his hand
to Philip, who respectfully pressed it to his
lips in silence.
"Ah, my dear uncle," said Lord Robert,
in reply to Sir Henry's commendations and
grateful expressions to Philip for his care of
his nephew, "you know not half his merit
yet; nor are you aware," said he, lowering
his voice, "of half my unworthiness."
"Aware of your unworthiness! No, my
A FRESH SURPRISE.
dear boy-that is what I hope I shall never
be," said Sir Henry.
143
"I fear," said Lord Robert, "you will
have reason to blush for your nephew soon;
for I must summon courage to relate to you
a story which will, I fear, deprive me of
your affection and esteem for ever."
"I shall be sorry to hear anything that is
likely to have such effects," said Sir Henry,
gravely: and when he looked from him to
Philip Harley, and observed his visible agi-
tation, and remembered the bitter hatred
that once subsisted between them, he was
convinced that Lord Robert had something
to communicate respecting his conduet to the
young mutincer, not much to his own credit.
Lord Robert was roused from his medita-
tion by the importunities of the boatmen
who had rowed him to the ship; and it was
quite with the air of his former gay liberality
that he flung into their boat a handful of
money he had obtained from his uncle for
that purpose.
Lieutenant Cary's appearance on deck oc-
casioned a great surprise to the young friends.
144
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
He was absent on shore when they ar-
rived; and they were the more delighted at
finding him alive, from the grief they had
felt at his supposed loss. Lord Robert told
him the manner in which they had found
the chest containing his books, flute, and
other property.
"Ah! my poor books!" said Cary: "the
chest was weighty; and, after you left the
ship, we threw it overboard, in common with
everything else that was likely to lighten
the ship."
"And pray, how came my poor Neptune
overboard? Did you commit him to the
mercy of the waves in order to lighten the
ship?" said Lord Robert.
"What became of Neptune we never
knew," said Cary; "but we supposed that
he went away with the pinnace; for in the
height of our distress, when all on board ex-
pected the Diomede to founder every minute,
the boatswain, with one midshipman, and
two or three sailors, contrived to lower the
pinnace and steal away, selfishly leaving
their commander and messmates to endure
PROVIDENTIAL ESCAPE.
145
the worst; and, most likely, Neptune, being
uneasy at missing his master, jumped into
the boat and went with them."
They met with a fitting reward for their
cowardly desertion," said Lord Robert; "for
Neptune was the only creature that reached
the island with life: some of the bodies we
found and buried. But how came the ship
to reach the shore of Brazil?"
((
"By the mercy of Heaven, we met some
Brazilian proas, which took us on board, and
the Diomede in tow; and, having favourable
winds and a smooth sea, we contrived to get
the hulk into the King's dock at Rio de Ja-
neiro; where, being a fine new ship, she was
found worth repairing and refitting; and
here we have been ever since, the Portu-
guese workmen being very slow in their
operations."*
* Commodore Byron found some repairs necessary at Rio
de Janeiro.-"We had six Portuguese caulkers to assist
our carpenters, who were paid at the rate of 68. per diem;
though it is certain an English caulker can do as much in
one day as they did in three; but, though slow and inac
tive, they perform their work very effectually."
BYRON'S Voyage.
13
146
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
XI.
CONCLUSION.
IT T was not till late that day that Lord Ro-
bert summoned courage enough to dis-
close to his uncle the whole particulars of
his conduct towards young Harley. It was
not without reason that he dreaded the man-
ner in which Sir Henry would receive this
explanation; for he was a man of the purest
honour himself, and was likely to consider
with some severity the misrepresentation his
nephew had made to his father, which occa-
sioned Philip's being removed from his home.
Lord Robert, when a child, had been treat-
ed with ruinous indulgence by his fond
parents, by whom his most extravagant
whims were considered as a law to which
the whole establishment must submit. Sir
Henry Stanley was the only person who had
ever attempted the arduous but necessary
task of controlling Lord Robert; although,
with the self-delusion not uncommon in such
RUINOUS INDulgence.
147
cases, his noble parents did not scruple to
attribute their son's violent temper and petu-
lant conduct when on shore, to his uncle's
indulgence. But if there was a man in the
world whom Lord Robert feared, it was Sir
Henry; yet, at the same time, he was so un-
erringly just and judicious, that his nephew
loved him with the most ardent affection,
and was used to consider the displeasure of
his uncle as the most serious misfortune that
could befall him: and such was the good
effect this salutary awe had on him, when
on board ship, that Sir Henry was not a
little proud of his officer-like conduct, never
having had occasion to frown on him for any
breach of duty or immorality. Lord Robert
knew the high place he held in his uncle's
opinion, and the idea of forfeiting his esteem
was dreadful. True, he was not actually
under the necessity of making a confession.
so mortifying. Sir Henry need never know
the misrepresentation he had made to his
father; a single word to that fond parent
would not only prevail on him to bury the
whole in oblivion, but induce him to devise
148
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
excuses to cover his faults and reconcile him
to himself. From Harley, he knew, he need
feel no fear of its being divulged;—that
generous friend would, he was assured, take
the whole blame of what had passed on
himself to screen him from reproach.
Lord Robert was at first strangely tempted
to take these measures, and conceal the worst
part of his conduct from his revered com-
mander; but his better principles obtained
the victory in the struggle, and, in a private
conference with his uncle, he revealed every
circumstance, beginning with his shooting
Philip's dog, and relating all that had hap-
pened between them till their reconciliation
and friendship on the Isle of Probation.
And so severely did he blame himself that
Sir Henry, moved by his candour, would
not increase his mental sufferings by any
reprimands.
Lord Robert was in earnest conference with
his uncle that evening and the next morning,
during which time Philip had resumed his
duties on board: but he was restless and un-
happy; for he felt his separation from Lord
•
THE NEWLY-MADE CADET.
Robert had now commenced, and he con-
ceived he should never more enjoy the plea
sure of his society. In this frame of mind,
he looked back with the most painful regret
to their residence on the island, and the de-
lightful hours he had spent with his noble
friend in the acquirement of knowledge. In
the midst of these repinings, he received a
summons to Lord Robert's cabin. He did
not find any one there; but was told by his
conductor to wait till his Lordship returned
from dining with his uncle. At last, Philip
heard a quick and well-known step at the
door; and Lord Robert rushed in with more
than his usual impetuosity, and, seizing
Philip by the hand, he exclaimed:
"
149
Joy, my dear Harley! My noble uncle
has forgiven me! For I have confessed
everything that has passed between us; and
so highly does he approve of your generous
conduct towards me, that he has granted my
earnest request of placing you on the quarter-
deck of the Diomede, where you are now
privileged to appear with the other midship-
men."-So saying, he beckoned to his servant
13*
150
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
who followed him, carrying a full-dress mid-
shipman's uniform. He superintended him-
self the pleasing task of arraying his friend
in this dress; and buckled on the dirk with
his own hands, which was the same he had
himself worn when a midshipman. When
all was complete, he surveyed Philip from
head to foot with great satisfaction; and
assured him that the dress became him as
well as if he had been born a gentleman;
and, with much animation, expressed his
conviction that he would, after serving hist
due time as a naval cadet, arrive at the dig-
nity of an epaulet, and fill in progression the
highest situations in the navy, to which, he
was convinced, he would prove an honour.
The change was so sudden, that it almost
took from Philip the power of expressing hist
joy. Lord Robert could not help smiling to
find that he had, for once, overcome that
firmness for which Philip generally was dis-
tinguished. His agitation was painful in the
extreme; but when he did at length speak,
it was with a vehemence of gratitude, which
showed Lord Robert the dominion he now
A VISIT TO THE GOVERNOR.
possessed over the once stubborn and haughty
mind of Philip Harley. "It is not," said he,
wringing Lord Robert's hand as he spoke,
"because I am proud and ambitious, and you
have raised me from my lowly rank, and
given me an opportunity of distinguishing
myself this is indeed much-but it is not
that which makes my heart overflow with
joy it is the consciousness that I shall now
sometimes be suffered to be near you, and
that my humble situation will not deprive
me of your friendship."
"Now, my dear friend," said Lord Robert,
"I must leave you, though against my wishes,
as the barge is waiting to convey my uncle
on shore, to spend two days with the Gover-
nor, and it is his pleasure that I shall attend
him. You will, in the mean time, find suffi-
cient amusement, I doubt not, among your
brother officers." As he said this, he gaily
withdrew. Harley pursued his retreating
figure with his eyes, as he followed Sir Henry
Stanley and Lieutenant Cary into the splen-
did state-barge, which the Portuguese Gover-
nor had sent to convey them on shore. As
7.
151
7
*
152
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
the sun shone brightly on the gilded vessel,
and her silken streamers fluttered in the
breeze, it recalled to his mind the remem-
brance of the Ariel; and he recollected with
shame his lawless exploit of sailing in that
fairy frigate, in defiance of her owner, and in
his very sight.
"Well might Lord Robert have been en
raged at my repeated trespasses!" thought
he: and, as he looked down on his new uni-
form, and considered how engagingly and
delicately his noble friend had behaved in
presenting it to him, he wondered how he
could ever have appeared so overbearing and
arrogant. Yet Philip was deceived when, in
the warmth of his affection, he thought it
must have been his own prejudices that made
Lord Robert appear to him at one time so
cruel and tyrannical. It was from the trials.
experienced in adversity, that he had learned
to correct his faults and follies: yet it is but
justice to Lord Robert to say, that he never
would have committed such outrages, had
not Philip studied modes of insult and pro-
vocation sufficient to have irritated a much
!:
153
EFFECTS OF FORMER MISCONDUCT.
calmer spirit, and which finally drew upon
Philip severe punishment, and on Lord
Robert proportionable remorse and suffering.
When Philip presented himself on the
quarter-deck, he had the mortification to per-
ceive a general coldness and disapprobation
among the officers, very painful to one of hist
quick feelings and high spirit; and he attri
buted this contempt to his low birth. Per-
haps many of them were not without preju-
dice on that subject; but, in addition to this,
his former mutinous conduct had not failed
to make a very ill impression on the minds.
of these gentlemen; and this conduct they
now appeared to remember, so far as to render
the time of Lord Robert's absence very un-
comfortable, and to deprive Philip of most of
the pleasure his new rank had given him.
When Lord Robert returned, he found his
friend, whom he expected to have seen full
of joy and spirits, walking by himself in a
very melancholy mood. To his anxious in-
quiries respecting the reason of his dejection,
he replied, by relating the various slights
which he had experienced since his departure.
154
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
"I went on deck with a heart full of good-
will to every one," added he; "and expect-
ing to find every one there noble, generous,
and refined, like yourself. But see how they
have treated me!"
"For which, my young friend, you have
no one to blame but yourself," observed
Lieutenant Cary, who had returned with
Lord Robert, and listened to Philip with
some interest. Philip looked at him with
surprise, but he continued:
"You perhaps forget, but they doubtless
remember, that at the time you thought pro-
per to act the part of a mutineer, among the
other accomplishments of that character, you
had a most provoking tongue; and there is
not one of these gentlemen but has had a
specimen of your sarcastic repartees, ad-
dressed to them, while in the lawful exercise
of the authority with which their country
has intrusted them. And they now think fit
to show how much they disapprove of your
former conduct when on board the Diomede,
and that they do not think one worthy to
command who formerly would not obey."
HARLEY PRESENTED BY LORD ROBERT. 155
Philip blushed deeply as he assented to the
justice of these observations; but Lord Ro-
bert, who was highly incensed at the conduct
of the officers, exclaimed, with no little of his
usual impetuosity, "Nonsense! Cary; they
must have seen that I only was to blame for
his behaviour then."
"Perhaps, as far as related to the blow
which he struck, you were," replied Cary;
"and during your residence at the island, to
which you have given so appropriate a name,
it appears he completely satisfied you for all
his offences, and forgave you for yours. But,
remember, the other officers who had given
him no reasonable cause of offence, are not
obliged to look over all the saucy speeches
he addressed to them, because a reconciliation
has taken place between you."
"But when they know all his noble conduct
to me, they must and shall treat him with
respect!" replied Lord Robert; and, drawing
Philip's arm through his, he advanced to-
wards the group of officers, who had with
drawn to a different part of the deck, and
were discussing the matter among themselves.
156
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
Gentlemen," said he, "give me leave to
present you to my friend, Mr. Harley; for
whose former faults I own myself more than
answerable. He is sensible that you all have
had cause to be offended with him at different
times; but he trusts that you will have rea-
son in future to forget the rashness of the
pressed man in the merits of the midship-
man; to which rank our noble captain, in
reward of his valour in the last engagement,
has thought proper to promote him. I say
nothing of his admirable conduct to myself;
though, I trust, that, with all my faults, his
having been the means of saving my life
will be a recommendation to my brother
officers; and I should hope that his lowly
birth will not be remembered to his prejudice
by officers of the British Navy, whose boast it
is that some of its proudest ornaments have
risen from before the mast."
66
A murmur of applause followed this
speech, which was seconded by Lieutenant
Cary's presenting his hand to young Harley;
and his example was followed by all the gen-
tlemen present, who, with the frankness of
11*
157
British officers, offered him successively their
congratulations on his promotion.
AP
Spoken like yourselves, my gallant
friends!" exclaimed Lord Robert, warmly
shaking hands with his brother officers: "it
shall never be said by our enemies, that valour
and merit were slighted in the British Navy,
unless recommended by the adventitious ad-
vantages of rank or riches in their possessor."
Lord Robert knew the way to the hearts
of his brave friends. To their good feelings
he did not appeal in vain; and Philip never
again had reason to complain of the least
slight or disregard from any officer on board
the Diomede; and never till that hour had
Lord Robert tasted how truly delightful is
the possession of power, when the influence
which more or less it holds in society is ap-
plied to a noble purpose; and Philip Harley,
by his steady attention to his duty, and his
officer-like and gallant conduct in his new
rank, speedily erased from the minds of these
gentlemen his former mutinous and violent
behaviour, and obtained the highest praise
from his just and discriminating commander.
"L
POWER NOBLY APPLIED.
14
158
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
·
How proud was Philip-how happy Lord
Robert, whenever Sir Henry Stanley ex-
pressed his approbation at this conduct!
There never was a friendship more warm or
sincere than that which now subsisted be-
tween the two former enemies, who used often
to relate their mutual sufferings, as a warning
of the folly of answering a provocation or
retaliating an injury.
Before they sailed from Rio de Janeiro,
Sir Henry Stanley generously presented
Philip with every equipment necessary for
his appearance as a gentleman; and, during
the voyage home, he was the friend, com-
panion, and pupil of Lord Robert, who de-
lighted to impart to him every accomplish-
ment, and took the greatest pleasure in wit-
nessing the development of his naturally fine.
talents.
When the Diomede approached the shores.
of England, Philip again began to be fearful
lest the high rank of Lord Robert should
separate them; but he was agreeably sur-
prised, when, on their landing, Lord Robert
insisted on his taking a place in the equipage
THE RETURN HOME.
159
that conveyed him to Lancashire; and,
though he permitted Philip to visit first the
lowly home of his sorrowing parents, yet he
and his noble father came for him the next
day, and invited him to the Hall, where he
shared in all the unbounded affection and
caresses which the Marquis and Marchioness
bestowed on their noble son.
On the first arrival of the Diomede at Rio
de Janeiro, Sir Henry Stanley, supposing he
had seen his nephew and Philip Harley per-
ish, wrote to England an account of the
dreadful loss, which was received both in the
cottage and at the Hall with the deepest
affliction. Since that time, no communica-
tion had been received; but as the Diomede
was nearly ready to sail when the young
friends arrived from the island, they them-
selves brought the first intelligence to Eng-
land of their safety and welfare. They found
each family in deep mourning, and plunged
in acute sorrow, which was changed into
exravagant joy at their unexpected arrival.
The Marquis had become acquainted with
most of the circumstances that occasioned the
160
THE RIVAL CRUSOES.
enmity between his son and Philip Harley,
and had suffered much remorse, reproaching
himself continually for having torn the only
surviving child from his parents to meet an
untimely death.
The unlimited indulgence which the young
friends met with at home might have been
attended with bad effects, had they remained
long exposed to its influence. But, in less
than a month, they were again summoned to
resume their duties on board the Diomede,
where Sir Henry had hoisted his flag on his
promotion to the rank of Admiral.
Both the friends were possessed of those
high talents which, when combined with val-
our, seldom fail of obtaining great distinc-
tion; and so nobly did they acquit themselves
in their naval duties, that after many years
had witnessed their career of glory, and they
had attained the height of their profession,
England never saw two braver admirals than
Lord Robert Summers and the Mutineer.

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