THE WRECK.
"The direful spectacle of the wreck."
_Tempest_
IT may be among the facts not generally known, that the Andaman seas
and shores are wealthy in shells; and people who grumble at being
despatched to do duty at the settlement are usually consoled by their
friends (who are not accompanying them), saying, "Oh, it's a charming
place! if you have a taste for conchology, you will have any quantity
of shelling."
In most cases, the shelling is angrily repudiated, and yet the chances
are, that once arrived upon the scene of action, and stimulated by
general example and keen emulation, the new-comers will develop into
the most unwearying, rabid, and greedy of shellers!
When I say a greedy sheller, I refer to an individual who, when tide,
wind and moon favour, will secretly take boat, and steal away to the
most likely parts of Corvyn's Cove, or some favourite reef at Navy Bay,
and there reaping a rich and solitary harvest, return with bare-faced
triumph, and swagger, dripping up the pier, between two lines of
outraged acquaintances, with a shameless air of,—
"Ah, ha! see what _I_ have got!"
From the General, down to Billy Home, every one went shelling at Port
Blair, and some of these "shell maniacs" (as Mrs. Creery dubbed them)
had superb and valuable collections. There was as much excitement and
competition over a day's quest as would be expended on covert shooting
or salmon fishing at home. It was not merely a frivolous picking up
of pretty objects; it was a very serious business. The finder of the
rarest shells was the hero of the hour: the owner of "ring" cowries was
a person of repute!
Behold, then, one afternoon, a few days after the band, two large
rowing-boats waiting at the pier for shellers! and kindly notice the
party coming down to embark. An inexperienced eye would naturally
assume that they were all going to bathe, for each individual carries a
bag and a couple of bath towels—to put round the back of their heads
as they stoop in the sun. Their garments are whole, indeed, and quite
good enough for the occasion, but how faded, and shrunken, and cockled
with sea-water! Their boots—but no, we will draw a veil over these. To
be brief the appearance of the company is the reverse of distinguished.
In a few short happy hours they will return: they will be all soaking
in water from the waist downwards. (Luckily, wading about in the
nice, warm sea is rather pleasant after the first plunge, and people
in the excitement of shelling are insidiously drawn in deeper and
deeper still.) Yes, by six o'clock, if all goes well, we shall see
the company of shellers, returning like a party of half-drowned rats;
but there will be no shyness, no reluctance, in their progress up the
pier; without the least diffidence, they will run the gauntlet of
all the idlers, with an air of lofty pride, born of the noble spoils
they usually carry. Have they not in their bags such treasures as
"woodcocks," "staircases," "tigers," and "poached eggs"! We spare the
reader the Latin names of these rarities.
* * * * *
To-day, the General (a keen sheller,) is going, also Mr. Latimer,
Captain Rodney, Dr. Parks, Miss Caggett, Dr. Malone, Colonel Home,
Colonel and Miss Denis, and last, but by no means least, Mrs. Creery
(and Nip). She does not condescend to shell, but she goes on principle,
as she rarely suffers an expedition to leave Ross without her patronage.
Colonel Denis and his daughter came hurrying down, just as the party
were about to descend the steps.
"Good gracious, Helen!" cried Mrs. Creery, "you are never going to
shell in _that_ dress!" speaking exactly as if it were her own property.
"No, no," shaking her head, and exhibiting a small block and paint-box.
"Have you forgotten that you are to leave me on the wreck to sketch?"
"Oh, true, so we are. Well, get in, _do_! My dear, you are keeping us
all waiting."
In another two minutes the boats were full, and rowing away across
the water with long, steady strokes; then up the estuary, between
the wooded hills of Mount Harriet on one hand, and Hadow—where the
lepers were kept—at the other, past the little isle of Chatham, where,
according to a legend (for which I will not vouch), eighty convicts
were hanged on yon old tree, one May morning, and round the bend, till
they were in sight of the wreck, a large three-masted ship, stranded
on the muddy shallows, cast away there by some terrible cyclone as it
tore its way up the Bay of Bengal. Her history was unknown, for she was
already there when the Andamans were opened up, where she came from,
and what had been the fate of her crew and passengers—would never now
be learned. From her rigging, it was guessed that she was of American
build,—but that was all.
Even in the brilliant afternoon light, she appeared grey and weird,
with her skeleton gear aloft, and her dark, wide-open ports, looking
like so many hollow eyes, as she lay among the tall bulrushes, sheathed
in sea-weed. Her cabins and deck were intact, and she had been used as
a hulk in former years, till, being the scene of a ghastly tragedy, and
other prisons having been built, she was once more abandoned to the
barnacles and the rats. She seemed much larger, and more awe-inspiring
at close quarters; and as they rowed under her stern, Helen, in
her secret heart, was rather sorry that she had been so determined
to spend two hours upon the wreck alone; that all the way down she
had jeered and laughed at Dr. Malone's warnings of cockroaches and
ghosts. However, there was no possibility of changing her mind _now_,
especially with Lizzie Caggett's inquiring eyes bent upon her—Lizzie,
who was mentally revelling in the prospect of the undivided attentions
of all Miss Denis' admirers, for the next two hours!
"Now that it has come to the pinch, I believe you are afraid," she
remarked, with a malicious smile.
The only reply that Helen vouchsafed to this taunt was by immediately
standing up. Greatly to her surprise, Mrs. Creery also rose, saying,—
"I think I'll go with you! Nip is fond of sniffing among old timber,
and he hates shelling, like his mistress."
No one clamoured against _their_ departure, and Helen was for once
in her life glad of Mrs. Creery's society, and grateful to Nip. The
two ladies were presently helped over the side (Nip being cautiously
carried up by the scruff of his neck), and the party were left by
themselves. To the last, Dr. Malone pressed Helen to "think better of
it, a quarter of an hour will be more than ample, you will see."
At this prophecy, she merely shook her head, and showed her sketch-book.
"I should not wonder if we find you both in the rigging when we come
back!" he shouted, as the boat rowed off, and making a speaking-trumpet
of his hands, he added, "she's full of rats!"
* * * * *
As the sound of the oars grew fainter and fainter, Helen went to the
bows, from whence she hoped to make her sketch, and stood silently
looking at the view—at the wooded hills casting deep shadows into the
glassy water, at the arm of the sea they had just come up, and out in
the open ocean like a green gem in a silver setting—the distant island
of Ross. It was undoubtedly, as Mr. Latimer had suggested, a capital
place for a sketch, and she must lose no time, and make the most of the
light whilst it lasted. So she got out her paint-box and immediately
set to work; but,—and here I appeal specially to artists,—_is_ it
easy to draw, with a large solar topee thrust over your right shoulder,
and a voice perpetually in your ear, saying,—
"Oh, you are not making Ross nearly high enough! Surely that point is
never meant for Hopetown? those trees are too far apart; and Chatham is
crooked!"
Helen was almost beside herself, every stroke was rudely criticized,
and Mrs. Creery emphasized her remarks with her chin, which was nearly
as sharp as that of the Duchess in _Wonderland_. At length she turned
her attention elsewhere, much to her victim's relief, and began to
investigate, and poke about among old spars and rubbish.
After a delightful respite, Helen heard her calling out,—
"I see a little boat coming this way, with two men in it—no, one man
is a dog; it's from Navy Bay, and is sure to be Mr. Manners. I'll wave
and beckon him here, for it's very dull for me!"
Accordingly Mrs. Creery's handkerchief (which was the size of an
ordinary towel) was seen being violently agitated over the side, and
met with an immediate response, for the little boat rowed by one man,
with one dog passenger, was soon within easy hail.
"I do declare," cried Mrs. Creery peevishly, "if it is not that odious
Mr. Lisle! I never wanted _him_." However, wanted or not, he was
already alongside, looking up at the bulwarks expectantly.
"Oh! it's you, Mrs. Creery! can I be of any service to you?"
"I thought it was Mr. Manners," she called down in an aggrieved tone.
"I never dreamt of its being _you_! However, you may come up," speaking
precisely as if she were in her own verandah.
Mr. Lisle did not look as if he was going to seize this niggardly
invitation; on the contrary, he took a firmer hold of the sculls,
glanced over his shoulder, and was evidently about to depart, when Mrs.
Creery casually remarked, as if it were a mere afterthought,—
"Oh! by-the-way, Miss Denis is here too, sketching."
Apparently this intelligence altered the case, for the gentleman
paused, rested on his oars, and said rather nonchalantly,—
"Very well, I shall come aboard—since you wish it so particularly!"
and, rowing round, made fast his boat, and was soon on deck, closely
followed by a big brown retriever.
"Oh, dear me!" cried Mrs. Creery, lifting up her hands. "So you have
brought that nasty dog! he is sure to fight with Nip."
"Not he, I will be security for his good conduct. And how are you
getting on, Miss Denis?" to Helen, who was shyly hiding her drawing
with her arm.
"Not at all well; I am not accustomed to sketching, and my attempt here
is such a libel on the view, that I am quite ashamed to let you see
it, but it" (apologetically) "seems a pity not to try and take away
some recollections of these lovely islands."
"Yes, you are quite right; and I shall be very glad to give you some
photographs, that is if you would care for them—they don't give the
colours, of course."
(At this offer Mrs. Creery became rigid and gave a little warning
cough.)
"But," taking up Helen's sketch, "this is not at all bad! Your
perspective is a bit out here, and you have not got the right shade in
the sea!"
"I know it is all frightful; sea, and land, and sky," returned Helen,
colouring; "I am sure you can draw, Mr. Lisle: please have the charity
to do something to it for me, and make it look less like a thing on a
tea-tray," holding her box and brushes towards him as she spoke.
Mr. Lisle, without another word, laid the block upon the bulwarks,
gazed for a moment at the scene, and then dashed in two or three
effective strokes, with what even Mrs. Creery (who had, of course,
followed up the sketch) could see was a master's hand.
Helen's pale, meek, school-girl attempt received in three minutes
another complexion; with a few rapid touches, a glow of the setting-sun
lit up the sky, and threw out in bold relief the dark promontory of
Mount Harriet; a touch to the sea, and it became sea (no longer mere
green paper); palms and gurgeon trees appeared as if by magic; Helen
had never seen anything like the transformation. She almost held her
breath as she gazed—not quite so closely as the elder lady, whose
topee was in its old place;—why, the drawing-master at Miss Twigg's
could not paint a quarter as well as Mr. Lisle; who now looked at the
view, with his head on one side, and then glanced at Helen, amused at
the awe and admiration depicted on her countenance.
"Yes, _that's_ more like it," cried Mrs. Creery, encouragingly. "I told
you, you know," to Helen, "that your sea was too green and flat, and
your perspective all wrong! I know a good deal about drawing myself."
(May she be forgiven for this fable!) "My sister, Lady Grubb is a
beautiful artist, and has done some lovely Decalcomanie vases; but
_you_ paint very nicely, too, Mr. Lisle, really quite as well as most
drawing-masters!" Then, looking suddenly round, "But all this time
where is Nip? I do believe that he has followed that horrible brute of
yours down into the cabins!"
"Not at all likely, Mrs. Creery, you know that they are not affinities;
Nip has followed his own inquisitive impulses, for Hero," moving aside,
"is here."
"Well, where can he be? Nip, Nip, Nip!" walking away in search of her
treasure.
"He is not _lost_, at any rate," muttered Mr. Lisle, "no such luck."
Then, in a louder tone, "Is not this a strange, out-of-the-world
place?" to Helen, who was watching his busy brush with childlike
interest. "If I had been suddenly asked about the Andamans, a couple of
years ago, I should have been puzzled to say whether they were a place,
a family of that name, or something to _eat_—wouldn't you?"
"Not quite so bad as that," smiling.
"Oh, of course, pardon me—I forgot that you are a young lady of most
unusual information."
"No, no, no, I knew nothing about them, I candidly confess, till papa
came here."
"They certainly well repay a visit," continued her companion, painting
away steadily as he spoke, "there is a sort of Arcadian simplicity, a
kind of savage solitude, an absence of worry, and not the slightest
hurry about anything, that has wonderful charms for me."
"Then I suppose you are naturally lazy, and would like to bask in the
sun all day, and have one person to brush away the flies, and another
to do your thinking."
"Miss Denis," suddenly looking up at her, with mock indignation, "you
speak as if you were alluding to one of the animals of the lower
creation;—what have I done to deserve this? I deny the impeachment
of laziness. 'Coming, sir,' my servant, will testify that I am out
every morning at half-past five; neither am I idle, but I like to
spend my time in my own way, not to be driven hither and thither by
dinner gongs, and railway bells, and telegrams. I like to pull my neck
out from under the social yoke,—to carry out your uncomplimentary
simile,—and figuratively, to graze a bit!"
Helen made no reply, but leant her chin on her hand, and looked down
abstractedly at the water for some time; twice her companion glanced
up, and saw that she was still buried in reflection. At last he said,
"I would not presume to purchase your thoughts, Miss Denis, but perhaps
you will be so generous as to share them with me?"
"You might not like them! Some of them were about myself," and she
laughed rather confusedly.
"And may I not ascertain whether I approve of them or not?"
"You may, if you will promise not to be offended."
"I promise in the most solemn manner; I swear by bell, book, and
candle; and I am very much honoured that you should think of me _at
all_!"
"You are laughing at me, Mr. Lisle," she said, colouring vividly,
divining a lurking sarcasm in this speech. "I am dumb, and indeed I
have no business to criticize you even in my thoughts, much less to
your face——"
"Speak out plainly, Miss Denis," he interrupted eagerly; "let me have
your views, good and bad, or bad alone."
"It is very presumptuous in me I know—I am only a girl, and you are
a great deal older than I am—but it seems to me that every one has
some place of their own in the world allotted to them—some special
duty to fulfil—" here her listener glanced at her sharply, but her
eyes were bent unconsciously on the water, and she did not note his
gaze—"surely it is scarcely right to shirk one's share of all the toil
and the struggling in the outer world, and the chances of helping one's
fellow-creatures, in ways however small,—just for the selfish pleasure
of being securely moored from all annoyances among these sleepy
islands!"
She stopped, and looked up at him rather timidly, with considerably
heightened colour, and added, in answer to his unusually grave face,
and stare of steadfast surprise,—
"I can see that you think me a very impertinent girl, and will never
speak to me again; but you _would_ have my thoughts, and there they
are, just as they entered my head!"
"I think you are a brave and noble young lady, Miss Denis, and you
have taught me a lesson that I shall certainly take to heart. I came
here for six weeks, and have stayed nearly six months, enjoying this
lotus-eating existence, oblivious of my place in the world, and my
duty—and I _have_ duties elsewhere; thank you for reminding me of
them, and indeed, my relations are beginning to think that I am lost,
or have fallen a prey to cannibals!"
Here was Mr. Lisle speaking of his belongings and his plans for
once,—oh, why was not Mrs. Creery on the spot?
However, she was not far off, and her shrill cry of "Nip, Nip, Nip!
where are you, Nip?" was coming nearer and nearer.