Few conditions of life are more difficult to bear than that which is
described in the proverb, "Hope deferred maketh the heart sick." Day
after day, week after week passed by, and every morning the unfortunate
men who had been cast on the coral island rose with revived hope to
spend the day in anxiety, and to lie down in disappointment.
The island proved to be a low one, not more than four miles in length by
about half a mile in breadth, on which nothing grew except a few
cocoa-nut palms. These afforded the wrecked crew a scanty supply of
food, which, with the provisions they had brought, enabled them to live,
but the prospect of a residence on such a spot was so hopeless, that
they would have left it immediately had not an accident happened which
deprived them of their boat.
A few mornings after landing, several of the men rose early, and,
without obtaining the captain's permission, went to fish in the lagoon,
intending to surprise their comrades by bringing a supply of fresh fish.
They were unsuccessful, but, supposing that their chance would be
better in the open sea, they rowed through the opening in the reef.
They had, however, miscalculated the size and power of the breakers that
continually thundered there. The boat was heavy and unmanageable except
by a strong crew. She turned broadside to the breakers, and, in a few
seconds, was hurled upon the reef and dashed to pieces. The men were
saved almost by a miracle. They succeeded in landing on the reef, and
afterwards, with the aid of broken pieces of the wreck, swam across the
lagoon to the island.
The loss was irreparable, so that they had now no hope left except in
the passing of a ship or a native canoe. This latter contingency they
were led to hope for by the discovery, one very clear morning, of what
appeared to be the mountain tops of a cluster of islands, barely visible
on the horizon. But as day after day passed without the appearance of a
canoe, they came to the conclusion that these islands were not
inhabited. As weeks passed by and no sail appeared, their hearts began
to fail them, for the small stock of provisions was rapidly diminishing.
One morning Captain Dall ascended to the highest point on the island,
where he was wont to spend the greater part of each day on the lookout.
He found Will Osten there before him.
"Good-morning doctor," said the captain, with a dash of the old hearty
spirit in his voice, for he was not easily depressed; "anything in
sight?"
"Nothing," replied Will, with a degree of energy in his tone that caused
the captain to look at him in surprise.
"Hallo, doctor, have you made a discovery, or have you made up your mind
to swim off the island, that you speak and look so resolute this
morning?"
"Yes, I have made a discovery. I have discovered that the provisions
will not last us another week; that our vigour is not what it used to
be; that a sort of apathy is stealing over us all; that the sands of
life, in short, are running out while we are sitting idle here making no
effort to help ourselves."
"What can we do, lad?" said the captain sadly, supposing that the youth
was merely giving vent to a spirit of desperation.
"I'll tell you what we can do," said Will, rising; "we can cut down most
of the trees and make a huge pile of them, which, with the broken pieces
of the long-boat to kindle them, will create a blaze that will attract
the attention of the people who live on yonder island--if there be any.
I know the character of South Sea islanders, but it is better to live in
captivity or die by the hand of savages than to perish of hunger and
thirst. Come, Captain Dall, we _must_ stir the men up to make a last
effort. Rather than die here, I will make a raft and hoist a sail on
it, and commit myself to the winds and waves. What say you? Shall we
try?"
"There is something in what you say, doctor," replied the captain,
pondering the subject; "at all events, no harm can come of making the
attempt. I'll go speak to the men."
In pursuance of this intention he left the place of outlook accompanied
by Will, and the result of their consultation with the men was, that in
a few minutes Larry O'Hale and Mr Cupples set to work with all the
energy in their natures to fell trees with the two axes they possessed.
When they were exhausted, Will Osten and Goff relieved them, and then
the captain and old Bob took the axes. Thus the work went on all day,
and in the evening a pile of logs was raised almost as large as a
medium-sized cottage.
There was something hopeful in the mere act of working with a view to
deliverance that raised the spirits of the men, and when the sun began
to sink towards the western horizon, they sat down to their slight meal
of biscuit and cocoa-nut milk with more appetite and relish than they
had experienced for many days.
"I've bin thinkin'," said Larry, pausing in the midst of his supper.
"Well, wot have 'ee bin thinkin', lad?" said Muggins, wiping his mouth
with the sleeve of his coat and wishing for more food--but wishing in
vain, for he had finished his allowance--"you're a good deal given to
thinkin', but there's not much ever comes on it, 'xcept wind in the
shape o' words."
"And what's words," retorted the cook, in supreme contempt, "but the
expression o' sintiment, widout which there wouldn't have bin nuthin'
wotsomediver in the univarse? Sintiment is the mother of all things, as
owld Father O'Dowd used to say to my grandmother whin he wanted to come
the blarney over her. It was a philosopher sintimentilisin' over a
tay-kittle, I'm towld, as caused the diskivery o' the steam-ingine; it
was a sintimintal love o' country as indooced Saint Patrick to banish
the varmin from Ireland, an' it was religious sintiment as made Noah for
to build the Ark, but for which nother you nor me would have bin born to
git cast upon a coral island. Sintiment is iverything, Muggins, and of
that same there isn't more in your whole body than I cud shove into the
small end of a baccy-pipe. But to return to the pint: I've bin thinkin'
as to whether it would be best to set a light to this here little pile
in the daylight or in the dark, bekase, in the wan case it's the smoke
that would call attintion, an' in the other case it's the flame."
"That is true, Larry," said the captain; "I'm inclined to think it would
be better seen at night, fire being more powerful than smoke."
"But they're more likely to be asleep at night, and to miss seein' it,"
observed Cupples, in a hollow tone.
It may be remarked in passing, that the mate's voice had become much
more sepulchral and his aspect more cadaverous since his arrival on the
island.
"True for ye," chimed in Larry; "an' who knows, if they did see it, but
they might take it for the moon in a fog--or for a volkainy?"
"Wouldn't the best way to settle the matter be to kindle the fire just
now, before it grows dark," suggested Will Osten, "so that they will
have a chance of seeing the smoke, and then, when it grows dark, the
fire will be getting brighter?"
"Right, doctor, you're right. Come, we'll put the light to it at once,"
cried the captain, rising. "Hand me the match-box, Mr Cupples; it's in
the head o' the bread cask."
The whole party rose and went to the pile of timber, which was on the
highest part of the islet and towered to a height of nearly twelve feet.
Captain Dall applied a match to the tarry pieces of the long-boat,
which had been placed at the foundation, and the flames at once leaped
up and began to lick greedily round the timber, winding through the
interstices and withering up the leaves. Soon a thick smoke began to
ascend, for much of the timber in the pile was green, and before the sun
had set a dense black cloud was rising straight up like a pillar and
spreading out into the sky. As the fire gathered strength, a great
tongue of flame flashed up ever and anon into the midst of the rolling
cloud and rent it for a single instant; by degrees those tongues waged
fierce war with the smoke. They shot through it more and more
frequently, licked and twined round it--in and out--until they gained
the mastery at last, and rose with a magnificent roar into the heavens.
Then it was that Larry O'Hale gave vent to his excitement and admiration
in an irrepressible shout, and his comrades burst into a mingled cheer
and fit of laughter, as they moved actively round the blazing mass and
stirred it into fiercer heat with boat-hooks and oars.
When night had closed in, the brilliancy of the bonfire was intense, and
the hopes of the party rose with the flames, for they felt certain that
any human beings who chanced to be within fifty miles of them could not
fail to see the signal of distress.
So the greater part of the night was passed in wild excitement and
energetic action. At last, exhausted yet hopeful, they left the bonfire
to burn itself out and sat down to watch. During the first half-hour
they gazed earnestly over the sea, and so powerfully had their hopes
been raised, that they expected to see a ship or a boat approaching
every minute. But ere long their hopes sank as quickly as they had been
raised. They ceased to move about and talk of the prospect of speedy
deliverance. The hearts of men who have been long exposed to the
depressing influence of "hope deferred," and whose frames are somewhat
weakened by suffering and insufficient food, are easily chilled. One
after another they silently crept under the sail, which had been spread
out in the form of a tent to shelter them, and with a sigh lay down to
rest. Weariness and exposure soon closed their eyes in "kind Nature's
sweet restorer--balmy sleep," and the coral island vanished utterly from
their minds as they dreamed of home, and friends, and other days. So,
starving men dream of sumptuous fare, and captives dream of freedom.
Will Osten was last to give way to the feeling of disappointment, and
last to lie down under the folds of the rude tent. He was young, and
strong, and sanguine. It was hard for one in whose veins the hot blood
careered so vigorously to believe in the possibility of a few days
reducing him to the weakness of infancy--harder still for him to realise
the approach of death; yet, when he lay meditating there in the silence
of the calm night, a chill crept over his frame, for his judgment told
him that if a merciful God did not send deliverance, "the end" was
assuredly drawing very nigh.