THE DESERT ISLAND.
After Marco had sailed on for a few minutes, he cast his eyes up the
river, and saw the steamboat. She was still lying in an inclined
position, as she had been left grounded by the tide. He shouted and
waved his hat, in the endeavor to attract the attention of the people on
board, and lead them to send a boat to rescue him. But all his efforts
were vain. He could not make them hear.
The current soon bore him beyond a point of land which hid the steamboat
from his view, and he began to fear that he should be actually carried
out to sea. He was calculating, in fact, how many miles it was to the
mouth of the river, when it suddenly occurred to him that, though he
could not _push_ with his pole, he might perhaps _paddle_ with it. He
accordingly took up the pole, which he had laid down upon the raft, and
began to use it as a paddle.
Marco found, to his great relief, that he could produce considerable
effect upon his raft by using his pole as a paddle. He contrived to get
the head of his raft round towards the shore, and, by working hard, he
succeeded in urging it along through the current, very slowly, indeed,
but still perceptibly, so that he began to have some hope that he might
succeed in reaching land.
Before he had made much progress, however, he suddenly saw before him,
at a short distance, a little rocky island, with some grass and a few
trees on the lower end of it. The island was very small, being not much
longer than Marco's raft. It lay almost directly in his course--so
nearly, that he perceived that by working a little more with his pole,
he thought he could bring himself into such a position as to be thrown
by the current directly upon it.
This he did. He paddled, with all his strength, to get into a line with
the upper end of the island, the current, all the time, bearing him down
directly towards it. In a few minutes, he had the satisfaction of seeing
that he was going directly upon it.
"All right," said he to himself; "now I'm safe."
As he said these words, the end of the raft struck the rock, and he
leaped off upon it. The raft swung round, and was going away, but Marco
seized it, and dragged it up a little way upon the shore, so as to
secure it. He then sat down upon the rock, and began to consider what
was next to be done.
He was certainly at a loss to know what was to be done. He waited an
hour, and then, getting very tired of his situation, he began to
consider whether it would not be best for him to entrust himself once
more to his raft, and endeavor to get to the shore by means of his
paddle.
While he was sitting on a point of the rock, in this perplexity, looking
towards the shore that was nearest to him, he suddenly saw a boy coming
upon a horse, along a winding road, which led to the river. He was
driving the horse down to water. The horse advanced to the brink of the
river, when Marco began to call out in his loudest voice,
"Halloo!"
"Halloo!" answered the boy.
"Can't you get a boat, and come and take me off this island?" cried
Marco.
The boy paused a moment, and gazed earnestly at Marco, while the horse
continued drinking.
"How came you on that island?" said the boy, calling out again in a loud
voice.
"I got adrift on some logs," said Marco, "and floated down the river.
Can't you get a boat, and come and take me off?"
"I have not got any boat," said the boy. "There an't any boats about
here."
"I wish you would go and get one," said Marco. "I'll pay you well for
it."
The boy did not answer. He seemed to be hesitating. In the mean time,
the horse, having nearly finished his drinking, lifted up his head and
looked at Marco.
"There is not any boat within a mile," said the boy. "But I should think
you might wade ashore. The water is not deep between here and the
island."
"Then wade out here with your horse," said Marco, "and take me on behind
you."
The boy hesitated a moment, but he finally decided to comply with
Marco's proposal, and accordingly began to advance his horse into the
water. Marco watched his progress with intense interest. As the water
grew deeper, he began to fear that the boy would get discouraged, and
turn back. But the boy kept on. He turned his steps somewhat below the
island, where there was an extensive shoal; the water grew shallower and
shallower, until at last the horse emerged entirely, and stood upon a
little dry sand bank at the lower side of the island.
"I'm very much obliged to you, indeed," said Marco, "for coming for
me--besides the pay. I will pay you for it as soon as we get on shore."
"Oh, no," said the boy, "I don't need any pay just for wading my horse
out here. I wade him out here very often, when I come down to water;
that is, in the summer, when the water is low."
Marco mounted behind the boy, and the boy turned his horse's head
towards the shore.
"How far is it back to the mill?" asked Marco.
"To the steam mill?--four miles," answered the boy.
"Four miles!" exclaimed Marco; "is it possible that I have floated down
four miles? How shall I ever get back again?"
"How did you happen to get adrift?" asked the boy.
Marco proceeded to give the boy an account of his getting adrift, but in
a short time the water began to grow so deep that he was afraid. The
boy, however, told him that there was no danger. The bottom of the
river, at this place, was a great bed of pebble stones, and the current
ran very swiftly over them, and curled in sharp ripples about the
horse's legs. Presently, however, the water became more shallow, and
they soon safely reached the shore.
"Now," said Marco, "I want to get back to the mill just as quick as I
can--before the steamboat goes."
"The steamboat?" said the boy, "she has gone long ago. She went by early
this morning."
"Yes," said Marco, "she went by here, but she got stopped."
So Marco told the boy the story of their having got aground, and of his
going ashore; and of all his adventures, in fact, down to the time of
his being cast upon the desert island. The boy told him that he had
better make haste; "for," said he, "the tide has risen a great deal
already. When the tide is at the lowest, we can go out to that island
almost on bare ground."
"But I can't walk back four miles," said Marco. "Could you not carry me
in a wagon?" he continued.
"We have got a wagon," said the boy, "if my father will let me go."
"Let us go right up and ask him," said Marco
They accordingly began to advance up the road, the boy putting his horse
to a rapid trot. Marco, who was not accustomed to riding in this
style--behind another boy, and without a saddle--was much jolted, and,
in fact, he found it very difficult to keep his seat. He began to feel
so much anxiety, however, about getting back again, that he did not
complain. In a short time, the boy reached the house. It was a small,
plain farm-house. There was a shed at one side of it, with a wagon
standing in the shed--the shafts resting upon a wood-pile.
"My father is not at home, now," said the boy, "but he will be at home
very soon."
"Oh, don't let us wait for him," rejoined Marco. "He'll be willing to
have you go, I know."
"No," said the boy, "I should not dare to go without his leave."
"Let us harness the horse into the wagon, then, at any rate," said
Marco, "and then we shall be all ready."
"We can do that," said the boy.
So they harnessed the horse into the wagon, and the boy led the horse
around to the door. Marco, who was quite impatient to go, got into the
wagon, and sat waiting. The man came in about twenty minutes, and when
he heard a statement of the case, he said that his boy might go and take
Marco back to the mill.
It was now so late that Marco began to be seriously afraid that the
steamboat might have gone. He was very impatient to have the horse go as
fast as possible; and he watched at every turn in the road which gave
him a view of the river, hoping to get a glimpse at the boat. He
wondered whether Forester was still at the tavern, or whether he had
come out in pursuit of him. After wearying himself with conjectures,
which were all in vain, he suddenly came to a view of the river opposite
the mill. The steamboat, to his great joy, was in its place; but there
was a black column of smoke issuing from the smoke-pipe.
"They are firing up," said Marco, "I verily believe."
"What do you mean by that?" said the boy.
"Why, building up the fires," said Marco, "to set the engine a-going.
They call it firing up."
Just at this moment there broke forth a loud and hoarse hissing from the
steam-pipe, and a dense column of white vapor began to ascend, which
mingled its snowy volumes, in a beautiful manner, with the dark masses
of the smoke.
"They are blowing off the steam," said Marco.
"What does that mean?" asked the boy.
"Why, that they have got the steam up, and are letting off a little of
it, while they are waiting for something. Perhaps they are waiting for
us. Drive on as fast as you can."
A moment after this, the sound of the steam suddenly ceased, and the
great paddle wheels, on the sides of the boat, began slowly to revolve.
"They are trying to get her off," said Marco. "I _do hope_ they can't
start her. Drive on; drive on as fast as you can."
They were, at this time, upon the top of a hill which commanded a fine
view of the river, and of the scenery upon its banks. The mill was
before them, too, in full view. But Marco was too much engaged in
watching the movements of the boat to regard the scenery. The boy drove
rapidly down the hill. They reached the mill in a very few minutes, and
drove down to the bank of the river, by a road which led to the water, a
short distance above the mill. But, in the mean time, unfortunately for
Marco, the steamboat had regained its liberty, and when Marco and the
boy came in view of it again, as their horse stopped at the edge of the
water, they saw, to Marco's dismay, that she was ploughing her way
swiftly up the river, being just about to disappear behind a point of
land which terminated the view of the water in that direction.
"They are gone," said Marco, in a tone of despair, "they are gone; and
what shall I do?"
"Can't you go in the stage?" asked the boy, hoping thus to say a word of
encouragement and consolation.
"No," said Marco, "I don't believe there is any stage from this old
mill. Besides, I don't know where to go. I should not have thought that
Forester would have gone off and left me."
"Was he on board the steamboat?" asked the boy.
"Yes," said Marco--"that is, he was to go on board--but I left him at
the tavern."
"Perhaps he is there now," said the boy. "Let us go and see."
Marco approved of this plan, and they turned the wagon, and rode towards
the tavern. As soon as the horse stopped in the yard, Marco leaped out
of the wagon, and ran in. He found Forester reclining upon the sofa,
where Marco had left him, asleep.
Marco advanced towards him, and took him by the shoulder, roughly, to
wake him up, saying,
"Forester! cousin Forester! wake up! the boat has gone."
Forester opened his eyes--looked wildly at Marco, and then put his hands
to his head, pressing his temples with the palms, but he did not speak.
"The boat has gone, cousin Forester," continued Marco.
"Then what good does it do to wake me up so roughly?" asked Forester.
"Why--I--thought you'd want to know it," said Marco; "but why did not
you come down?"
"Because," said Forester, "you were to come and tell me, I thought, when
they were ready to go."
Marco had no reply to make to this suggestion, and he was silent. He
found, afterwards, on farther conversation with Forester, that he was
quite unwell. His head ached, and his face was flushed, as if he was
feverish. Marco related to Forester an account of his adventures on the
raft of logs. Forester thought that he had had a very narrow escape.
Marco expected that Forester would have rebuked him very sharply for his
fault in going upon the logs at all. But he did not. After Marco had got
through with his account, Forester only said,
"Well, Marco, you evidently did wrong in getting upon the logs at all;
but the evil consequences to you will be punishment enough, and, in
fact, more than enough."
"Evil consequences?" said Marco--"no; there are no evil consequences,
only that we have got left behind."
"I don't regard that," said Forester, "for I am too unwell to travel
to-day; but then you have suffered considerable pain and anxiety
already, and, besides, there will be some money to pay."
"What for?" said Marco.
"Why, you have got to pay the boy for bringing you home," replied
Forester.
"Must I pay him," said Marco, "out of my own money?"
"Who do you think ought to pay him?" said Forester.
"Why, _I_ ought to, I suppose," said Marco. "But it won't be much. I
think a quarter of a dollar will be enough."
"Then, did not you say that you sent to the mill to have somebody go
down after you in a boat?" asked Forester.
"Yes," said Marco, "but I don't think they went."
"You had better go to the mill and see," said Forester.
So Marco went out and paid the boy a quarter of a dollar, with which he
seemed to be satisfied. Then he went to the mill, and he found two men
just returning, in a boat, from a long pull down the river in pursuit of
him. Marco paid them half a dollar. Thus his loss was three quarters of
a dollar.
When he returned to the tavern, he found that Forester had taken some
medicine, and had gone to bed. Forester told him that he must amuse
himself the best way he could, and that, after the experience that he
had had that day, he hoped he would be careful not to put himself any
more into dangerous situations.