THE ISLAND OF DESOLATION.
I am monarch of all I survey,
My right there is none to dispute:
From the centre all round to the sea
I am lord of the fowl and the brute.
O Solitude! where are the charms
That sages have seen in thy face?
Better dwell in the midst of alarms
Than reign in this horrible place.
--COWPER.
Next morning Stevens went to find the animal, at whose eyes he had fired
during the night; but it was gone without leaving even a trace of blood
behind it. The boat had sustained some damages during the night from the
surf dashing it against the rocks; but he managed to reach the wreck
with it, where he quickly mended the seam started in its side.
He brought away a cask of fresh water, a chest of sea-biscuit, some
Holland cheese, wine, salt pork and more dried fish. After they had
dined, they set out to the nearest mountain, from the peak of which they
hoped to get a survey of the surrounding country. He tried to induce
Blanche to remain, but she insisted on accompanying him.
Nothing is more deceitful than distance, and they were compelled to
pause and rest before they had reached the bluffs and foot-hills at the
base of the mountain. While resting there, they heard a scampering of
feet, accompanied by the loud snort of frightened animals flying from
the plateau above them. They were gone before John and his companion
were able to get a sight of them.
"What are they?" she asked.
"I know not, yet they seem to have a greater dread of us than we have of
them."
Resuming their journey they had not proceeded half a mile, when John
espied one of them looking down upon him and his companion from an airy
cliff. Its bristling horns, long beard, and keen eyes were visible,
though the ferns and grass concealed its body.
"It is a goat," he said. "The animals which we discovered were goats,
and we have nothing to fear from them."
A little further on, he discovered a fox in the bushes. The animal was
unacquainted with man and was very tame. It stood until they were within
a few paces of it, and then it trotted off a short distance and halted
to look at them. John's first impulse was to shoot it; but, on a second
thought, he decided to reserve his fire for some larger and more useful
game. At last the summit of the nearest hill was gained, and from it
they had a survey of the country and discovered that they were on an
island. Stevens' heart sank within him at the discovery, for now no
human help was within their reach. The fear of Spaniards and savages
gave place to the greater dread of passing their lives on a
desolate island.
The island was about sixteen miles long by ten wide. It had four lofty
mountains in the centre, one of which was so high as to be above the
clouds and covered at the peak with snow. These lofty elevations
supplied the island with an abundance of pure, fresh water. In the
fertile valleys below grew bread-fruit and oranges in profusion and many
wild berries and vegetables excellent for food. They spent four days in
exploring the island, hoping to find some sort of inhabitants, but were
disappointed. Goats, foxes and a species of gray squirrel were the
principal animals on the island. None were very dangerous; but the foxes
proved to be mischievous thieves, and stole all of their provisions they
could come at. Stevens began an early war against them, and shot them
wherever they could be found.
Far to the north were two more islands evidently not so large as the one
on which they were cast. Dangerous reefs lay between them and all about
the three islands, making navigation difficult if not impossible.
Blanche bore the journey well and did not give way to despair even when
they discovered that they were on an uninhabited island. For her sake
Stevens kept up a show of courage, though he found despair rising within
his breast.
"We must get the provisions and tools from off the wreck," he said, "and
make our stay here as comfortable as possible.
"How long will that stay be?" she asked.
"God in heaven alone can tell."
"Surely some passing ship will see us."
He hoped so; but that reef-girt shore seemed to forbid the approach of a
vessel. Nevertheless he set up long poles with flags on them at
different points of the island, so that a passing ship might see them
for miles out to sea.
Then he began the work of unloading the wreck. There was an inlet or
mouth of a creek not far from the place where they first landed, and,
constructing a raft on the wreck and loading it with arms, provisions,
ammunition and tools, they took advantage of the tide to float it in to
shore. This was repeated daily for weeks. Clothing, sails, provisions of
all kinds, half a hundred guns and as many pistols and cutlasses, with
other weapons, tools, books, writing material, and, in fact, everything
that could possibly be of service was brought off from the wreck. They
were favored with mild weather, and John, soon learning to take
advantage of the tides, had no difficulty in landing the goods.
The shore was strewn with boxes, barrels, arms, bales and piles of
goods, with tools, provisions, rafts and broken bits of lumber, for he
decided to bring away as much of the wreck as he could, for the boards
would be very useful in the construction of houses. Weeks were spent in
this arduous toil, and their efforts were fully rewarded.
The foxes proved their only annoyance, and Stevens shot them until they
became more shy. He killed nineteen in a single night. It became
necessary to make a strong wooden cage, or box to keep their food in;
but the salt junk was scented by the foxes, and they gathered about it
in great numbers and made the night hideous with their howls.
At last he hit upon a plan which nearly exterminated the foxes and rid
them of the nuisance. Among other articles brought from the ship was
poison. He shot a goat and, while it was warm and bleeding, cut it open,
poisoned the meat and left it where the foxes could get at it.
Early in the night the fighting, snapping and snarling began, and the
next morning the woods were filled with dead foxes, so it was years
before the howl of another was heard.
Fully realizing the importance of making haste in removing the wreck to
the shore, he worked with more than human efforts until he had gotten
off almost everything of value. Blanche aided him all she could, and
when their tents were up, her womanly instincts as housekeeper gave a
homelike appearance to them.
Having brought off all that was valuable, he built a house close under a
bluff, where a projecting shelf of rock covered a small grotto, which he
enlarged with pick and shovel. Before the rainy season set in, he had a
comfortable house. They had a store of provisions enough to last for two
years, and, in addition, John brought away Indian corn, barley, and
wheat which he planted and, to his delight, discovered that it grew
well. Being a farmer, it was only natural that he should give his
thoughts to agriculture.
John was industrious, thoughtful and, having been brought up in the
colony, was calculated to make the wilderness bloom as Virginia had
done. His axe awoke the echoes of the forest, and he busied himself
building houses, planting fields, and providing for their comforts. All
the while the flags were kept flying from the hills, in hopes of
attracting some passing ship.
Two years glided by, and not a sail had been seen on the ocean. The
wreck had disappeared; but John and Blanche were provided with
comfortable homes. They had tamed the goats, exterminated the foxes, and
their fields waved with corn, wheat and barley. To grind their corn,
John, who was something of a genius, invented a mill from two stones.
The wild fruits and berries of the island improved under cultivation and
yielded a greater abundance. Their floors were covered with rush mats,
and the furniture brought from the wreck gave to the rooms a comfortable
and homelike air.
It was evening, and the sitting-room was lighted by candles made of
goat's tallow. John Stevens was reading aloud from a Bible and Blanche
sat listening with rapt attention.
"Read more," she said when he had finished the page. "What a blessing to
know that even in the uttermost parts of the earth God is with us."
"Verily, it is a comfort."
"Should we die here, He will be with us."
"God is everywhere. He will not desert us," John said.
"But I hope we will yet be rescued."
"I trust so."
He closed his book and placed it on the table at his side and buried his
face in his hands. She watched his strong emotion with eyes which were
moist with sympathy, and, rising, came to his side and placed her hand
on his shoulder.
"You are stronger than I," she said, "why should you grieve more at our
calamity? Surely God is with us."
The tears were trickling through his fingers and his frame was convulsed
with emotion. She noted his grief and, to encourage him, added:
"God is everywhere; he is here; he will guard and watch over us, and, if
it be his pleasure that we escape from this island, he will send some
ship to our deliverance."
"My burden is greater than I can bear."
"Remember He said, 'Take my yoke upon you, for my yoke is easy and my
burden is light.' Trust all to Jesus, and He will give you strength."
"You are all alone in the world, Blanche."
"Yes."
"You have not a relative living."
"No, my father was lost."
"I wish I had none. It is not for myself that I grieve, but the helpless
ones at home."
"Helpless--"
"My wife and children."
Blanche, shocked and amazed, gazed at him in silence. The blood forsook
her face, her breast heaved, and her breath came in painful gasps. He
had never before in all the two years they had been alone upon the
island mentioned his wife and children.
"I left them to better my fortune," he continued. "They were so helpless
and I so poor; but I did what I thought best. Last night I saw them in
my dreams, her great bright eyes all red with weeping, and my baby's
warm little hands were again about my neck imploring me to come home in
accents so pathetic and sweet, they melted my heart. My blue-eyed Robert
was no longer gay, but melancholy. O God, give me the wings of a dove
that I may go and see them again!"
His head fell on the table and his whole frame shook with emotion, while
Blanche, with her own sad beautiful eyes swimming in tears, could not
utter a word of consolation. When he had partially recovered she asked:
"Why did you not tell me this before, you might have had my sympathy all
along."
"I did not care to burden you with my griefs."
"Trust in God."
"I do; but this dark uncertainty; my helpless children."
"They have their mother."
"She is unpractical, knows nothing of life and is as helpless as the
children. The little money left her has been spent long before this, and
they are--Heaven only knows what ills they may endure. So long as I was
with them, I shielded them from the rude blasts of the world; but now
they are without a protector."
[Illustration: BLANCHE COULD NOT UTTER A WORD OF CONSOLATION.]
Overcome with the sad picture he had created in his mind, he buried his
face again in his hands. Once more Blanche sought to soothe his cares by
assuring him that He who watched the sparrow's fall would in some way
care for his loved ones at home.
The years rolled on, and day by day he climbed the top of the nearest
hill and gazed off to the sea, hoping to discern a sail, but in vain.
He had brought the captain's glasses from the ship, and with this often
gazed at the two islands toward the north with longing eyes. Did they
connect with the main land where people dwelt, and from which they might
find means of transportation to the home which he sometimes feared he
might never again behold?
"Would it be too dangerous to undertake a voyage to those islands?"
Blanche asked one day when they were gazing for the thousandth time
at them.
"If we had a suitable boat we might attempt it."
"How is our own boat?"
"Too frail. The boards are almost rotten."
"Then why not make one?"
The idea was a good one, for it promised him employment. He felled a
large tree and proceeded to make a dug-out such as the Indians of
Virginia used.
Blanche helped him and was so cheerful, kind and considerate, that
often, as he gazed on her beautiful face, he sighed:
"Had Dorothy possessed her spirit, this misery would have been averted."
He felt a twinge of conscience at rebuking his wife, even in thought. No
doubt she had paid dearly for her folly.
The boat at last was completed, and he rigged a sail for it, and
together they set out for the distant islands. They glided over the
water, catching a glimpse of a man-eating shark, which made them shudder
with dread.
With fair wind and tide they reached the nearest island that day. It was
nearly as large as their own, and the shore was fully as dangerous. The
next was smaller, and both were wooded, with low hills, but poorly
watered. They found goats and foxes abounding on each, but no indication
that a human being had ever been there. All about on every side was the
vast ocean, stretching as far as the eye could reach, with the eternal
wash of waves on the rocks.
Spreading their tent on the shore, they passed the night on the island
nearest their own, and were greatly annoyed by foxes and mosquitoes, so
that with early dawn they were glad to return home.
One never knows how to appreciate home until they have been away, and
John seemed to take a new interest in his house, fields and the tame
goats of his island.
Yet in the night, when slumber had sealed his eyelids, he saw in that
far-away home his wife's pale face, and felt his baby's soft arms once
more about his neck, and in his agony he cried out:
"God send some ship to deliver me!"
Day by day as the years rolled on, John Stevens saw more and more to
admire in the companion with whom his lot was cast. When he was sick or
tired she watched over him with all the tender care of a sister or
mother. When he was saddest she whispered words of hope and cheer in his
ear. In fact Blanche was an ideal woman, a comforter and a helper.
"How could I live here without you, Blanche?" he said one day.
"Heaven tempers the wind to the shorn lamb," she answered. "Nothing is
so bad that it could not be worse." Blanche was a pure Christian girl.
No influence on earth could swerve her from a course marked out for her
by her intellect and approved by her conscience. She was a devout
Christian, and when her companion, in the bitterness of his soul, was
rebellious, her sweet Christian influence led him back to God.
In the stillness of life, talent is formed; but in the storm and stress
of adverse circumstances character is fashioned. Had Blanche returned to
London she might have become a society lady; but here she was a
consoler, binding up the broken heart. She would sit for hours by John's
side talking with him about his wife and children in far-off Virginia,
and she never went to sleep without praying Heaven by some means to take
the father and husband back to his loved ones.
"I went to the cliff this morning," she said, "thinking I might see a
sail, but I was disappointed."
"Why did you think to see a sail, Blanche?" he asked.
"I dreamed last night that a ship came for you and took you home. Oh,
how glad I was, when I saw you happy again with your dear wife and the
baby on your knee, its little warm hands on your face!"
After a long silence, he asked:
"Blanche, how long have we been here?"
"Ten years," she answered.
Blanche not only had kept a complete journal since the day of their
shipwreck, but had written a faithful description of the island, giving
its resources and describing the coast. To John it seemed but yesterday
since he kissed the tender cheek of his babe, bade his wife a farewell
and sailed away.
Ten years had made their impress on him. His hair was growing gray, and
his beard was quite frosty. It was not age that whitened his hair so
much as it was his ten years of suffering. Ten years had developed
Blanche from a beautiful girl to a glorious woman of twenty-eight, more
beautiful at twenty-eight than eighteen.
"Blanche, would ten years change a baby?" John asked.
"Yes."
"Then my baby is a baby no longer," sighed the father.
"No; she is a pretty little girl now."
"And has no recollection of her father?"
"How could she?"
"But my little boy?"
"He was five when you left home?"
"No, not quite; four and some months."
"Then he would remember you."
"He is a good-sized boy."
"Almost fifteen," she answered.
"Heaven grant I may yet see them!"
"Amen!" replied Blanche. "God has not forgotten you; our prayers will be
heard."
John made no answer. He arose, took his gun and went out among the
hills.
"When he talks of them," Blanche thought, "he always goes to the hills.
God grant he does not die of despair, for then I would be all alone on
this island of desolation."
Tears gathered in her eyes and, falling on her knees, she breathed a
fervent prayer.