It would appear to be almost an essential element in life that man
should indulge in speech. Of course we cannot prove this, seeing that
we have never been cast alone on a desert island (although we _have_
been next thing to it), and cannot positively conclude what would have
been the consequences to our castaway if he had rigidly refrained from
speech. All that we can ground an opinion on is the fact that John
Jarwin talked as much and as earnestly to his dog as if he knew that
that sagacious creature understood every word he uttered. Indeed, he
got into such a habit of doing this, that it is very probable he might
have come to believe that Cuffy really did understand, though he was not
gifted with the power to reply. If it be true that Jarwin came to this
state of credulity, certain it is that Cuffy was deeply to blame in the
matter, because the way in which that ridiculous hypocrite sat before
his master, and looked up in his face with his lustrous, intelligent
eyes, and cocked his ears, and wagged his tail, and smiled, might have
deceived a much less superstitious man than a British tar.
We have said that Cuffy smiled, advisedly. Some people might object to
the word, and say that he only "snickered," or made faces. That, we
hold, is a controvertible question. Cuffy's facial contortions looked
like smiling. They came very often inappropriately, and during parts of
Jarwin's discourse when no smile should have been called forth; but if
that be sufficient to prove that Cuffy was not smiling, then, on the
same ground, we hold that a large proportion of those ebullitions which
convulse the human countenance are not smiles but unmeaning grins. Be
this as it may, Cuffy smiled, snickered, or grinned amazingly, during
the long discourses that were delivered to him by his master, and indeed
looked so wonderfully human in his knowingness, that it only required a
speaking tongue and a shaved face to constitute him an unanswerable
proof of the truth of the Darwinian theory of the origin of the human
species.
"Cuffy," said Jarwin, panting, as he reached the summit of his island,
and sat down on its pinnacle rock, "that's a splendid view, ain't it?"
To any one save a cynic or a misanthrope, Cuffy replied with eye and
tail, "It is magnificent."
"But you're not looking at it," objected Jarwin, "you're looking
straight up in my face; so how can you tell what it's like, doggie?"
"I see it all," replied Cuffy with a grin; "all reflected in the depths
of your two loving eyes."
Of course Jarwin lost this pretty speech in consequence of its being a
mute reply, but he appeared to have some intuitive perception of it, for
he stooped down and patted the dog's head affectionately.
After this there was a prolonged silence, during which the sailor gazed
wistfully round the horizon. The scene was indeed one of surpassing
beauty and grandeur. The island on which he had been cast was one of
those small coral gems which deck the breast of the Pacific. It could
not have been more than nine or ten miles in circumference, yet within
this area there lay a miniature world. The mountain-top on which the
seaman sat was probably eight or nine hundred feet above the level of
the sea, and commanded a view of the whole island. On one side lay
three lesser hills, covered to their summits with indescribably rich
verdure, amongst which rose conspicuous the tall stems and graceful
foliage of many cocoanut-palms. Fruit-trees of various kinds glistened
in the sunshine, and flowering shrubs in abundance lent additional
splendour to the scene. On the other side of the mountain a small lake
glittered like a jewel among the trees; and there numerous flocks of
wild-fowl disported themselves in peaceful security. From the farther
extremity of the lake flowed a rivulet, which, from the mountain-top,
resembled a silver thread winding its way through miniature valleys,
until lost in the light yellow sand of the sea-shore. On this beach
there was not even a ripple, because of the deep calm which prevailed
but on the ring or coral-reef, which completely encircled the island,
those great "rollers"--which appear never to go down even in calm--fell
from time to time with a long, solemn roar, and left an outer ring of
milk-white foam. The blue lagoon between the reef and the island varied
from a few yards to a quarter of a mile in breadth, and its quiet waters
were like a sheet of glass, save where they were ruffled now and then by
the diving of a sea-gull or the fin of a shark. Birds of many kinds
filled the grove with sweet sounds, and tended largely to dispel that
feeling of intense loneliness which had been creeping that day over our
seaman's spirit.
"Come, my doggie," said Jarwin, patting his dumb companion's head, "if
you and I are to dwell here for long, we've got a most splendid estate
to look after. I only hope we won't find South Sea niggers in
possession before us, for they're not hospitable, Cuffy, they ain't
hospitable, bein' given, so I'm told, to prefer human flesh to most
other kinds o' wittles."
He looked anxiously round in all directions at this point, as if the
ideas suggested by his words were not particularly agreeable.
"No," he resumed, after a short survey, "it don't seem as if there was
any of 'em here. Anyhow I can't see none, and most parts of the island
are visible from this here mast-head."
Again the seaman became silent as he repeated his survey of the island;
his hands, meanwhile, searching slowly, as if by instinct, round his
pockets, and into their most minute recesses, if haply they might find
an atom of tobacco. Both hands and eyes, however, failed in their
search; so, turning once more towards his dog, Jarwin sat down and
addressed it thus:--
"Cuff, my doggie, don't wink in that idiotical way, you hanimated bundle
of oakum! and don't wag yer tail so hard, else you'll shake it off some
fine day! Well, Cuff, here you an' I are fixed--`it may be for years,
an' it may be for ever'--as the old song says; so it behoves you and me
to hold a consultation as to wot's the best to be done for to make the
most of our sukumstances. Ah, doggie!" he continued in a low tone,
looking pensively towards the horizon, "it's little that my dear wife
(your missus and mine, Cuff) knows that her John has fallen heir to
sitch an estate; become, so to speak, `monarch of all he surveys.' O
Molly, Molly, if you was only here, wot a paradise it would be! Eden
over again; Adam an' Eve, without a'most no difference, barrin' the
clo'se, by the way, for if I ain't mistaken, Adam didn't wear a straw
hat and a blue jacket, with pumps and canvas ducks. Leastwise, I've
never heard that he did; an' I'm quite sure that Eve didn't go to church
on Sundays in a gown wi' sleeves like two legs o' mutton, an' a bonnet
like a coal-scuttle. By the way, I don't think they owned a doggie
neither."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
At this point the terrier, who had gradually quieted down during the
above soliloquy, gave a responsive wag of its tail, and looked up with a
smile--a plain, obvious, unquestionable smile, which its master believed
in most thoroughly.
"Ah, you needn't grin like that, Cuff," replied Jarwin, "it's quite
certain that Adam and Eve had no doggie. No doubt they had plenty of
wild 'uns--them as they giv'd names to--but they hadn't a good little
tame 'un like you, Cuff; no, nor nobody else, for you're the best dog in
the world--if you'd only keep yer spanker-boom quiet; but you'll shake
it off, you will, if you go on like that. There, lie down, an' let's
get on with our consultation. Well, as I was sayin' when you
interrupted me, wot a happy life we could live here if we'd only got the
old girl with us! I'd be king, you know, Cuff, and she'd be queen, and
we'd make you prime minister--you're prime favourite already, you know.
There now, if you don't clap a stopper on that ere spanker-boom, I'll
have to lash it down. Well, to proceed: we'd build a hut--or a palace--
of turf an' sticks, with a bunk alongside for you; an w'en our clo'se
began for to wear out, we'd make pants and jackets and petticoats of
cocoanut-fibre; for you must know I've often see'd mats made o' that
stuff, an' splendid wear there's in it too, though it would be rather
rough for the skin at first; but we'd get used to that in coorse o'
time. Only fancy Mrs Jarwin in a cocoanut-fibre petticoat with a
palm-leaf hat, or somethink o' that sort! An', after all, it wouldn't
be half so rediklous as some o' the canvas she's used to spread on
Sundays."
Jarwin evidently thought his ideas somewhat ridiculous, for he paused at
this point and chuckled, while Cuffy sprang up and barked responsively.
While they were thus engaged, a gleam of white appeared on the horizon.
"Sail ho!" shouted the sailor in the loud, full tones with which he was
wont to announce such an appearance from the mast-head in days gone by.
Oh, how earnestly he strained his eyes in the direction of that little
speck! It might have been a sail; just as likely it was the wing of a
sea-gull or an albatross. Whatever it was, it grew gradually less until
it sank out of view on the distant horizon. With it sank poor Jarwin's
newly-raised hopes. Still he continued to gaze intently, in the hope
that it might reappear; but it did not. With a heavy sigh the sailor
rose at length, wakened Cuffy, who had gone to sleep, and descended the
mountain.
This look-out on the summit of the island now became the regular place
of resort for Jarwin and his dumb, but invaluable companion. And so
absorbed did the castaway become, in his contemplation of the horizon,
and in his expectation of the heaving in sight of another sail, that he
soon came to spend most of his time there. He barely gave himself time
to cook and eat his breakfast before setting out for the spot, and
frequently he remained there the livelong day, having carried up enough
of provision to satisfy his hunger.
At first, while there, he employed himself in the erection of a rude
flag-staff, and thus kept himself busy and reasonably cheerful. He cut
the pole with some difficulty, his clasp-knife being but a poor
substitute for an axe; then he bored a hole at the top to reave the
halliards through. These latter he easily made by plaiting together
threads of cocoanut-fibre, which were both tough and long. When ready,
he set up and fixed the staff, and hoisted thereon several huge leaves
of the palm-tree, which, in their natural size and shape, formed
excellent flags.
When, however, all this was done, he was reduced to a state of idleness,
and his mind began to dwell morbidly on the idea of being left to spend
the rest of his days on the island. His converse with Cuffy became so
sad that the spirits of that sagacious and sympathetic dog were visibly
affected. He did, indeed, continue to lick his master's hand lovingly,
and to creep close to his side on all occasions; but he ceased to wag
his expressive tail with the violence that used to characterise that
appendage in other days, and became less demonstrative in his conduct.
All this, coupled with constant exposure in all sorts of weather--
although Jarwin was not easily affected by a breeze or a wet jacket--
began at last to undermine the health of the stout seaman. He became
somewhat gaunt and hollow-cheeked, and his beard and moustache, which of
course he could not shave, and which, for a long time, presented the
appearance of stubble, added to the lugubriosity of his aspect.
As a climax to his distress, he one day lost his dog! When it went off,
or where it went to, he could not tell, but, on rousing up one morning
and putting out his hand almost mechanically to give it the accustomed
pat of salutation, he found that it was gone.
A thrill of alarm passed through his frame on making this discovery,
and, leaping up, he began to shout its name. But no answering bark was
heard. Again and again he shouted, but in vain. Without taking time to
put on his coat, he ran to the top of the nearest eminence, and again
shouted loud and long. Still no answer.
A feeling of desperate anxiety now took possession of the man. The bare
idea of being left in utter loneliness drove him almost distracted. For
some time he ran hither and thither, calling passionately to his dog,
until he became quite exhausted; then he sat down on a rock, and
endeavoured to calm his spirit and consider what he should do.
Indulging in his tendency to think aloud, he said--
"Come now, John, don't go for to make a downright fool of yerself.
Cuffy has only taken a longer walk than usual. He'll be home to
breakfast; but you may as well look a bit longer, there's no sayin' wot
may have happened. He may have felled over a precepiece or sprain'd his
leg. Don't you give way to despair anyhow, John Jarwin, but nail yer
colours to the mast, and never say die."
Somewhat calmed by these encouraging exhortations, the sailor rose up
and resumed his search in a more methodical way. Going down to the sea,
he walked thence up to the edge of the bush, gazing with the utmost
intensity at the ground all the way, in the hope of discovering Cuffy's
fresh footsteps; but none were to be seen.
"Come," said he, "it's clear that you haven't gone to the s'uth'ard o'
yer home; now, we'll have a look to the nor'ard."
Here he was more successful. The prints of Cuffy's small paws were
discovered on the wet sand bearing northward along shore. Jarwin
followed them up eagerly, but, coming to a place where the sand was hard
and dry, and covered with thin grass, he lost them. Turning back to
where they were distinct, he recommenced the search. No red Indian, in
pursuit of friend or foe, ever followed up a trail with more intense
eagerness than poor Jarwin followed the track of his lost companion. He
even began to develop, in quite a surprising way, some of the deep
sagacity of the savage; for he came, before that day was over, not only
to distinguish the prints of Cuffy's paws on pretty hard sand, where the
impressions were very faint, but even on rough ground, where there were
no distinct marks at all--only such indications as were afforded by the
pressure of a dead leaf into soft ground, or the breaking of a fallen
twig!
Nevertheless, despite his care, anxiety, and diligence, Jarwin failed to
find his dog. He roamed all that day until his limbs were weary, and
shouted till his voice was hoarse, but only echoes answered him. At
last he sat down, overcome with fatigue and grief.
It had rained heavily during the latter part of the day and soaked him
to the skin, but he heeded it not. Towards evening the weather cleared
up little, but the sun descended to the horizon in a mass of black
clouds, which were gilded with [a] strange lurid light that presaged a
storm; while sea-birds flew overhead and shrieked in wild excitement, as
if they were alarmed at the prospect before them. But Jarwin observed
and cared for none of these things. He buried his face in his hands,
and sat for some time perfectly motionless.
While seated thus, a cold shiver passed through his frame once or twice,
and he felt unusually faint.
"Humph!" said he, the second time this occurred, "strange sort o'
feelin'. Never felt it before. No doubt it's in consikince o' goin'
without wittles all day. Well, well," he added, with a deep long-drawn
sigh, "who'd have thought I'd lose 'ee, Cuff, in this fashion. It's
foolish, no doubt, to take on like this, but I can't help it somehow. I
don't believe I could feel much worse if I had lost my old 'ooman. It's
kurious, but I feels awful lonesome without 'ee, my doggie."
He was interrupted by the shivering again, and was about to rise, when a
long low wail struck on his ear. He listened intently. No statue ever
sat more motionless on its pedestal than did Jarwin during the next
three minutes.
Again the wail rose, faint and low at first, then swelling out into a
prolonged loud cry, which, strange to say, seemed to be both distant and
near.
John Jarwin was not altogether free from superstition. His heart beat
hard under the influence of a mingled feeling of hope and fear; but when
he heard the cry the third time, he dismissed his fears, and, leaping
up, hurried forward in the direction whence the sound appeared to come.
The bushes were thick and difficult to penetrate, but he persevered on
hearing a repetition of the wail, and was thus led into a part of the
island which he had not formerly visited.
Presently he came to something that appeared not unlike an old track;
but, although the sun had not quite set, the place was so shut in by
tangled bushes and trees that he could see nothing distinctly. Suddenly
he put his right foot on a mass of twigs, which gave way under his
weight, and he made a frantic effort to recover himself. Next moment,
he fell headlong into a deep hole or pit at the bottom of which he lay
stunned for some time. Recovering, he found that no bones were broken,
and after considerable difficulty, succeeded in scrambling out of the
hole. Just as he did so, the wail was again raised; but it sounded so
strange, and so unlike any sound that Cuffy could produce, that he was
tempted to give up the search--all the more that his recent fall had so
shaken his exhausted frame that he could scarcely walk.
While he stood irresolute, the wail was repeated, and, this time, there
was a melancholy sort of "bow-wow" mingled with it, that sent the blood
careering through his veins like wildfire. Fatigue and hunger were
forgotten. Shouting the name of his dog, he bounded forward, and would
infallibly have plunged head-foremost into another pit, at the bottom of
which Cuffy lay, had not that wise creature uttered a sudden bark of
joy, which checked his master on the very brink.
"Hallo! _Cuff_, is that you, my doggie?"
"Bow, wow, _wow_!" exclaimed Cuffy in tones which there could be no
mistaking, although the broken twigs and herbage which covered the mouth
of the pit muffled them a good deal, and accounted for the strangeness
of the creature's howls when heard at a distance.
"Why, where ever have 'ee got yourself into?" said Jarwin, going down on
his knees and groping carefully about the opening of the pit. "I do
believe you've bin an' got into a trap o' some sort. The savages must
have been here before us, doggie, and made more than one of 'em, for
I've just comed out o' one myself. Hallo! _there_, I'm into another!"
he exclaimed as the treacherous bank gave way, and he slipped in
headlong, with a dire crash, almost smothering Cuffy in his fall.
Fortunately, no damage, beyond a few scratches, resulted either to dog
or man, and in a few minutes more both stood upon firm ground.
It would be vain, reader to attempt to give you in detail all that John
Jarwin said and did on that great occasion, as he sat there on the
ground caressing his dog as if it had been his own child. We leave it
to your imagination!
When he had expended the first burst of feeling, he got up, and was
about to retrace his steps, when he observed some bones lying near him.
On examination, these proved to be the skeleton of a man. At first
Jarwin thought it must be that of a native; but he was startled to find
among the dust on which the skeleton lay several brass buttons with
anchors on them. That he stood beside the remains of a brother seaman,
who had probably been cast on that island, as he himself had been,
seemed very evident, and the thought filled him with strange depressing
emotions. As it was by that time too dark to make further
investigations, he left the place, intending to return next day; and,
going as cautiously as possible out of the wood, returned to his abode,
where he kindled a fire, gave Cuffy some food, and prepared some for
himself; but before he had tasted that food another of the shivering
fits seized him. A strange feeling of being very ill, and a peculiar
wandering of his mind, induced him to throw himself on his couch. The
prolonged strain to which body and mind had been subjected had proved
too much for him, and before morning he was stricken with a raging
fever.