JOHN STEVENS' CHARGE.
The fair wind blew, the white foam flew,
The furrow followed free;
We were the first that ever burst
Into that silent sea.
Down dropped the breeze, the sails dropped down,
'Twas sad as sad could be;
And we did speak only to break
The silence of the sea.
--COLERIDGE.
Since the art of navigation became known, there have been castaways in
romance and reality without number. De Foe's celebrated Robinson Crusoe
stands first, but not alone among the shipwrecked mariners of truth and
fiction. How many countless thousands have suffered shipwreck and
disaster at sea, whose wild narratives have never been recorded, will
never be known.
John Stevens was not a reader of romance and poetry, which at his age
were in their infancy in Virginia. The hardy pioneers of the New World
were kept too busy fighting Indians and building plantations and cities
to read romance or history. Consequently he had no similar adventures to
compare with his own. John had enough of the sturdy Puritan in his
nature to deeply feel the duty incumbent on him, and enough of the
cavalier to be a gentleman, unselfish and kind.
Throughout the long night he held the half inanimate form of Blanche in
his arms. The storm abated and the tide running out left the vessel
imbedded in the sands. John watched for the coming morn as a condemned
criminal looks for a pardon. He knew no cast nor west in the darkness;
but anon the sea and sky in a certain place became brighter and
brighter. The clouds rolled away, and he saw the bright morning star
fade, as the sable cloak of night was rent to admit the new born day.
Blanche sat up and, gazed over the scene as the flashing rays of
sunlight gleamed over the sea and shore.
"Are we all?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Was no one saved?"
"None but ourselves."
"And the ship?"
"Is a hopeless wreck on the sands," he answered.
As they rose to gaze upon their surroundings, John Stevens thought with
regret that if the crew and passengers had remained below hatches, they
would have been saved; but he and Blanche were all who remained, and he
turned his gaze to the wild shores hoping to discover some sign of
civilization. There was not a hamlet, house or wigwam to indicate that
Christian or savage inhabited the land.
Blanche marked the troubled look on his face and asked:
"Do you know where we are?"
"No."
The shore was wild and rocky, and on their right it was covered with a
dense growth of tropical trees. Farther inland rose two towering
mountains. The beach directly before them was low and receding. A long,
level plain, covered with a dense growth of coarse sea-grass, was
between them and the hills, which were covered with palms, maguey and
other tropical trees.
John feared that they had been wrecked on the coast of some of the
Spanish possessions and would be made captives and perhaps slaves by the
half-civilized colonists.
They could not live long on the wreck, and he began to look about the
deck for some means of going ashore. The pinnace which had been stowed
away between decks was an almost complete wreck. It would have been
useless had it remained whole, for John and his companion could not
have launched it. There was a small boat hanging by the davits, which
had sustained no other injury than two holes in its side. He was a fair
carpenter, and getting some tools from the carpenter's chest, he mended
the boat. After no little trouble, he lowered the boat and, assisting
Blanche into it, pulled to the shore half a mile away.
It was a shore on which no human foot had ever trod. The great black
stones which lay piled in heaps along the coast to the northeast until
they were almost mountain-high forbade the safe approach of a vessel.
The entire coast was armed with bristling reefs to guard it against the
approach of wandering ships. It was almost miraculous that they had been
driven in between the reefs at the only visible opening. A hundred paces
in either direction their vessel would have been forced upon the rocks.
"Is this country inhabited?" asked Blanche, when they had landed, and
made fast their boat to a great stone.
"I fear not," he answered; "or, if inhabited, it is probably by
savages."
"Should that be true, ours will be a sad fate."
"I will not desert you," he answered.
They sat down on the dry white sand to rest and gazed at the wreck, with
its head high in the air and its stern low in the water.
"We made a mistake in not bringing some arms to defend ourselves
against savages or wild beasts," said John.
"Can we not go back for them?"
"Would you be afraid to remain on the beach while I went?" he asked.
She said she would not, though he noticed her cast nervous glances
toward the thickets and forests inland. As he pushed out once more into
the shallow waters lying between the beach and wreck, she came down so
close to the water's edge that the waves almost touched her toes.
"You won't be long gone?" she called in a low, sweet voice, trembling
with dread.
"No."
He reached the wreck and went on board by means of broken shrouds lashed
to the gunwale. The sun shone as brightly and the sky was as peaceful as
if no storm had ever swept over it. The deck was almost dry, and, the
hatches having been fastened, John was agreeably surprised to find but
little damage done by the water. He went down to the companion-way and
found less water in the hold than he expected. He brought out two
muskets, a pair of pistols, a keg of powder, and bullets enough for his
arms. The guns and the pistols were all flint-locks, for at this time
matchlock and wheel-lock had about gone out of use.
A dagger and a sword were also added to the armament, which John
lowered into his boat. Then he remembered that Blanche had had no food,
and he bethought himself of some provisions. He went again into the hold
and, thanks to the care of the cook in stowing away the provisions,
found most of them dry and snug in the fore-part of the vessel. He got
out a small chest of sea biscuits, a Holland cheese, and some dried
fish, which he carried to his boat. He paused a moment to gaze at
Blanche, who sat on a stone watching him. The almost tropical sun
beating down upon her defenceless head suggested the need of some sort
of shelter, and he procured some canvas and threw in an axe and pair of
hatchets to cut poles and arrange a tent or shelter for her.
Having at last loaded his boat he set out for shore. The tide was fast
setting in and bore him rapidly onward. Landing he unloaded his boat,
and asked:
"Have you seen any one?"
"No."
"I have brought some food."
"It will be useless without water. I am very thirsty," she said.
"We will go farther inland, where we must find fresh water," he said
hopefully.
John saw that Blanche had no covering for her head, and the sun's rays
made her faint. He gave her his hat and for himself fashioned a cap of
palm leaves. They went inland until they came to some tall trees, which
afforded a grateful shade. Here he induced Blanche to rest, while he
went further in search of fresh water. She was tired, and had a dread of
being left alone in this strange land; but Blanche was reasonable and
waited beneath the tall palms gazing on the coast, the sea and the wreck
lying on the sands.
"It might have been worse," she thought. "While all our friends and
companions have perished, we are saved. God surely will not desert us.
Having preserved us thus far for some purpose, he will not suffer us to
perish until that purpose is accomplished. I alone might have been
spared to perish miserably in a strange land."
Meanwhile, John Stevens was roaming among the rocks and hills for fresh
water. Great blackened stones parched and dry as the sands of Sahara met
his view on every side, and no sight of water was found until he came to
a dark shallow pool so warm that he could not drink it.
"Heaven help us ere we perish," he groaned, wandering among the rocks
and trees. "If we don't find water soon she will die."
He threw himself on the ground in despair, and as he lay there, he
thought he heard a trickling sound. He started up, fearing that his
ears deceived him; but no, they did not. Beyond a moss-covered stone of
great size was a clear, sparkling rivulet of bright, crystal water,
falling into a stone basin of considerable depth. He stooped and found
it sweet and cool. Oh, so refreshing! Slaking his thirst, he next
thought of his suffering companion under the trees beyond the hill, and
for the first time he reflected that he had failed to provide himself
with any vessel to carry water. There was no bucket or cup nearer than
the ship, and she might perish before he could bring anything from
there. He set his gun against a rock and, plucking some broad palm
leaves, made a cup which would hold about a pint.
All this required time, and he was constantly tortured with the
recollection that his charge was suffering with thirst. With the
improvised cup full of water, he hastened to the almost fainting girl
and said gladly:
"I have found pure, sweet water in abundance. Drink of this, and we will
go at once to the spring."
She eagerly seized the leaf cup and drank, then found herself strong
enough to cross the hill to the precious fountain.
John left one of the guns with her, the other was at the spring; but the
sword and pistols he kept at his belt.
Taking the provisions and musket they set out for the spring. Here they
bathed their hot faces and refreshed themselves.
"Now let us have food," said John.
The sea-biscuit and dried fish were wholesome, and they ate with a
relish. John Stevens wanted to climb a lofty hill about two miles away,
from which he hoped to have a good view of the surrounding country.
"Can we from there determine what land we are on?" she asked.
"I hope so."
"If there be cities, will we see them?"
"We shall," he answered.
"Have you no hopes nor fears?"
"I have both."
"What are your hopes?"
"My hopes are that this is one of the Bermuda Islands."
"And your fears?"
"That this is one of the West India Islands, or a part of the Florida
coast, under control of the Spaniards."
"Did you hear the captain say where we were before the ship struck?"
"No; he was a most incompetent master, and knew not where we were."
"Whether we are in the land of enemies or friends, it will be better to
know the truth," reasoned Blanche.
"Are you strong enough for the walk?"
She thought she was, and they started on their journey of exploration.
One of the guns was left with the provisions at the spring; but John
carried the other.
The distance to the hill proved greater than they had supposed, and
before they reached the base, the sun, sinking low in the heavens,
admonished them that night would overtake them before the summit could
possibly be gained.
John called a halt and asked:
"Shall we go on, or return to the beach?"
Blanche gazed on the frowning hills and bluffs before them and thought
it best to return. Those gloomy mountain wilds were terrible after dark,
and she thought they would find it more congenial nearer the wreck.
They returned to the beach. The inflowing tide had lifted their boat and
borne it further up on the sands.
"Will it not be carried off?" Blanche asked.
"No, I have it anchored with a heavy stone, so it cannot be carried
out."
John cut four poles and drove them into the ground and spread the canvas
over it, forming a shelter for Blanche. He had brought a blanket from
the wreck, which, with some of the coarse grass he cut with his sword,
formed a bed for his charge. A box which he had brought from the ship
afforded her a seat.
They had not found a human being, nor had they seen a single animal. A
few sea-birds flying high in the air were the only living creatures
which had greeted their vision since landing.
"Will you be afraid to remain here while I go for the provisions and
musket left at the spring?" asked John.
"No, we have nothing to fear."
"I believe this part of the coast to be entirely uninhabited."
She made no answer, and he went for the gun and provisions. The walk was
longer than he thought, for he was tired with the day's toil and was
compelled to walk slowly. When about half-way to the spot he heard a
rustling in the tall grass and paused to discover the cause. Cocking his
gun, he tried to pierce the jungle, not fully decided whether the noise
were made by man or beast.
A moment later he heard something running away. It was beyond question a
wild animal, frightened at his approach. He did not get a glimpse of it
and was unable to tell what it was like.
"If a beast," he thought, "it is the only one I have met with since
landing on the coast."
From the rustling it made, it was no doubt small and little to be
feared. He listened for a moment, and then hurried on to the spring.
"Blanche will be lonesome," he thought. "Her father placed her in my
charge, and I will protect her if I can."
Climbing the moss-grown stone, he descended into a dark ravine to the
spring. The sun was set by this time, and the sombre shades of twilight
began to spread over the scene. His eager eyes pierced the gathering
gloom and discovered that the food left had been attacked by animals and
the biscuit devoured.
He searched the ground, and saw footprints.
"Some animals have been here," he thought. "They evidently did not like
dried fish, for, though they have trampled over them, they have devoured
none; but the sea-biscuits are all gone."
It was impossible to determine what sort of animals they were, but he
was quite sure they were not dangerous.
He took up the gun and returned to the tent, where he related to Blanche
the loss of their biscuits.
"Then there are animals on the land," she said.
"Yes; but they are not dangerous," he returned. "These animals may
prove useful to us for food."
"I hope so."
After several moments, she asked:
"How long must we stay?"
"I know not. Had I not better take the boat and go to the wreck for more
food?"
"No, not to-night," she answered with a shudder. "I prefer to go without
food than to be left an hour alone in the approaching night."
He had a sea-biscuit in his pocket, which he gave her and made his own
supper of dried fish. With flint, steel and some powder, he kindled a
fire near the tent and sat down before it with a gun across his knees
and another at his side, his back against a tree. Thus he prepared to
pass the night, urging his companion to go to sleep in the tent.
Patient, confiding Blanche went and laid down to sleep. She had borne up
well, not uttering a single complaint throughout all their
trying ordeals.
As John sat there keeping guard over his charge, his mind went back
across the wild waste of waters to the home he had left. He seemed to
feel the soft baby hands of little Rebecca on his face, or hear the
prattling of his boy at play. His wife's great, dark eyes looked at him
from out the gloom, and he sighed as he thought how improbable it was
that he would ever see them again. Wrecked on an unknown shore, with
dangers and difficulties to surmount, what hope had he of the future?
"Heaven watch over and guard my helpless ones at home, as I guard the
charge entrusted to me," he prayed.
His fire was not so much to keep off the cold as wild animals. The
distant roar of the ocean beating on the shore broke the silence. The
low and melancholy sound fell on the ear of the unfortunate man, and,
raising his eyes to the stars, he thought:
"The same stars shine for them, and the same God keeps watch over all.
May his guardian angels watch over the loved ones at home until the
father and husband returns."
John's heart was heavy. His fire had burned low, and he had forgotten to
replenish it. Suddenly upon the air there came a half growl and half
howl, and, looking up, he saw a pair of fiery eyes flashing upon him. An
animal was approaching the tent. John cocked his gun, aimed at the two
blazing eyes and fired.
In a moment the eyes disappeared, and Blanche, alarmed at the report of
the gun, sprang from the tent and wildly asked:
"What was it? Are we attacked?"
"Peace! It was only an animal, which I should judge to be a fox,"
assured John.
The report of the gun awakened a thousand slumbering sea-fowls, which
arose screaming on the air in every direction. John listened to hear
some animal, but not a growl and not a cry came on the air. After a few
moments all was quiet once more, and he begged his charge to retire to
sleep, while he took up his post as guard.