HOUSEHOLD ARRANGEMENTS--THIRD VISIT TO THE WRECK--RAINY
WEATHER--AGREEMENT ABOUT WORK--MARY IN GREAT DANGER--EXTINGUISHING FIRE
ON ONE’S DRESS--RELIEF TO A BURN--CONVERSATION
They did not return to the vessel the next day. The work of transporting
the many heavy articles brought, and of giving them accommodation,
occupied the whole day. Indeed, the work of arranging was by no means
easy, for their possessions were now too large for their dwelling. They
were therefore compelled to make a new room for Sam and his tools, by
means of some spare sails brought from the wreck; and this led them to
think of erecting still another wing to the tent, as a place of deposit
for their stores of provision.
By Thursday the return tide came at so late an hour in the afternoon,
that the boys were loth to go upon the third trip; but there were
several other articles of importance that they needed, and intending to
make a short visit, they did not start until near mid-day. On entering
the vessel their first work was to remove the stove; which being quite
new and recently put up, they had no difficulty in taking to pieces, and
lowering, with its appurtenances, into the raft. The work-bench they
detached, with great labour, from the wall, and tumbled it over the
vessel’s side. From the carpenter’s room they carried several sails,
two coils of small rope, and a hank of twine. The magazine they did not
care to enter. Most of the powder in the gunner’s room was wet, but
there were two large kegs of cannon powder, the outside of which was
caked and ruined, while the central part was perfectly good, and also a
five pound canister of superfine rifle powder, which was so tightly
sealed that not a particle of damp had entered. These they took. And
dragging out one of the small cannon they managed, after hard work, to
lower it, with its appropriate carriage, into the raft, and deposited
along with it several dozen balls, and as many canisters to fit the
bore. These, together with the trunks and clothing of the officers, the
iron vice, a small kit of mackerel, and the box of cocoanuts,
constituted their load. The voyage back was made without accident.
On landing, their first business was to shelter their powder, for the
sky was clouding fast, with long blue belts, that promised rain before
morning, and the night was rapidly coming on. Unwilling to keep so
dangerous a quantity of powder in the tent, they divided it into several
parcels, and concealed them in hollow trees, which they closed and
marked.
The cannon carriage proved a great convenience in transporting the
trunks, the disjointed parts of the stove, and other heavy articles to
the tent. But even with this assistance they did not complete their
work before the night set in.
The next day was wet--wet--wet. The young people continued within
doors, made a particular examination of the trunks, and divided among
themselves the articles that were serviceable. With these employments,
and the fitting up of their stove, they spent all that day, and part of
the next.
It was during that evening, as they sat listening to the incessant
patter of the rain upon the canvas roof, that the boys conceived and
resolved upon a species of competition, that gave a steady progression
to their work from that time forward.
"Tomorrow is New Year’s Day," observed Harold. "We have been two months
and a half upon the island. Our first boat is not a quarter finished.
Why, Robert, it will be six months before we get away by our own
exertions; and then your father will have left Bellevue."
"But you forget how many interruptions we have had," replied Robert.
"First, there was Sam’s misfortune, then yours; after that, our removal
to the prairie, and securing the tent; then this discovery of the wreck,
which has furnished us with food and tools for continuing our work
without interruption. If I am not mistaken, the end of January will see
us at Bellevue, or on our way there. What do you think, Sam--can we
finish our two boats in a month?"
"May be so, massa, if we work mighty hard; but it will take a heap o’
work."
"I doubt if we finish them in two months, work as we may," remarked
Harold.
Robert was not pleased with this discouraging assertion, though he was
startled to find that the usual prudent Harold entertained such an
opinion.
"Now, cousin," said he, "I will put this matter to the test. As we boys
used to say, I’ll make a bargain with you. We shall all work on the
second boat, until it is as far advanced as the present one. Then we
shall each take a boat and work. Sam shall divide his time between us.
And if at the end of a month we are not ready to return home, I’ll give
up that I am mistaken."
"Give me your hand to that bargain," said Harold. "You shall not beat me
working, if I can help it; but if, with all our efforts, we leave this
island before the last day of February, I will give up that _I_ am
mistaken."
Faithful to this agreement, the boys went next morning to the landing,
and brought the various parts of the work-bench, which they aided Sam in
fitting up. The grindstone also they set upon its necessary fixtures;
and collecting the various tools that were in need of grinding, they
persisted in relieving each other at the crank, until they had sharpened
two very dull axes, two adzes, three chisels, a broad ax, and a drawing
knife, and stowed them safely under Sam’s shelter.
The history of the day, however, was not concluded without an incident
of a very serious character, in which Mary was the principal, though
unwilling actress; and in which, but for her presence of mind, she would
have met with a painful and terrible death.
About ten o’clock that night she retired to her room, undressed, and was
laying aside the articles of dress necessary for the next morning, when,
turning around, her night clothes touched the flame of the candle,
which, for the want of a table, she had set upon the floor. The next
instant she extinguished the candle, and was about stepping into bed,
when her attention was excited by a dim light shining behind her, and a
slight roar, that increased as the flame ran up her back. Giving a
scream of terror, she was on the point of rushing into the next room for
help, when recollecting the repeated and earnest injunctions of her
father, she threw herself flat upon the blanket of the bed, and wrapping
it tightly round her, rolled over and over upon the floor, calling for
help. The flame was almost instantly quenched, as it probably would have
been, even without a blanket, had she only sat down instantly on the
floor, and folded the other part of her dress tightly over the flame.[#]
[#] _Flame ascends_. All have observed how much more rapidly it
consumes a sheet of paper held with the burning end down, than the same
sheet laid on the table. So with a female’s dress; an erect posture
allows the flame to run almost instantly over the whole person.
But though the _flame_ was extinguished, the charred ends of the dress
were not; they kept on burning, and coming into contact with the naked
skin, made her scream with pain. The agony was so great, that again she
was almost tempted to throw off the blanket and rush into the open air,
but knowing that this would certainly increase the fire, and perhaps
renew the blaze, she drew the blanket more tightly around her, and
rolled over, calling to Robert, who had by this time come to her
assistance. "Pour on water--_water_--WATER!" Robert did his best--he
fumbled about for the pitcher, then finding it, asked where the water
was to be poured; but now that the water was ready to be thrown upon
her, Mary felt secure; she cast off the blanket, and the remaining fire
was put out by the application of Robert’s wet hand.
The time occupied by this terrifying scene was scarcely a minute and a
half, yet Mary’s night dress was consumed nearly to her shoulders, and
her lower limbs were badly scorched. So rapid an agent is fire.
Whoever would escape destruction from a burning dress, must work fast,
with good judgment and a strong resolution.
Mary’s burns were slight in comparison with what they might have been.
The skin was reddened for a foot or more along each limb; but it was
broken only in two places, about as wide and long as her two fingers.
Still the pain was excessive, and she wept and groaned a great deal.
Robert applied cold water for a number of minutes, and would have
continued it longer, but Mary at last said:
"Bring me a cup full of flour. I have tried it on a burnt finger, and
you can scarcely imagine how cooling it is."
The flour was brought, and applied by means of handkerchiefs tied over
the raw and blistered parts. Its effect was to form a sort of artificial
cuticle over those spots where the skin had been removed; and the soft
and cool sensation it produced in the other parts was delightful. Still
Mary appeared to suffer so much, that Robert administered an opiate, as
he did in the case of Sam, and after that he heard no more from her
until next morning.
"What a quick, brave girl she is!" said Harold, after Robert had
described the scene. "Most girls would have rushed into the open air,
and been burned to death."
"She showed great presence of mind," Robert assented.
"More than that," said Harold, "she showed great _resolution_. I knew a
beautiful girl at school, who had presence of mind enough to wrap
herself in the hearth rug, but who could not stand the pain of the fire;
she threw off the rug, rushed into the open air, screaming for help, and
was burnt to death in less than two minutes."
When Mary came from her room next morning her eyes were dull and glassy,
from the effects of the medicine, and she had no appetite for more than
a cup of coffee. The others met her with more than their usual
affection. Her accident had revealed to them how much they loved her;
and her coolness in danger, and fortitude in suffering, had given them a
greater respect for her character.
"We do sincerely thank God, on your account, cousin," said Harold, as
soon as they were left alone that Sabbath morning. "It is so seldom a
person meets with such an accident, without being seriously injured."
"I hope I feel thankful, too," returned Mary. "I could not help
thinking last night, before going to sleep, how uncertain life is. O, I
do wish I were a Christian, as I believe you to be, cousin."
"Indeed, if I am a Christian at all, I wish you were a far better one,"
he replied. "I have neither felt nor acted as I desired, or supposed I
should."
"But still you feel and act very differently from us."
"My feelings are certainly very different from what they used to be, and
I thank God that they are. Yet the only particular thing which I
recollect of myself, at the time that I began to feel differently, is
that I was troubled on account of my past life, and wished heartily to
serve God. To judge from myself, then, I should say that to _desire to
serve God_, is to be a Christian."
"O, I do desire," said Mary, weeping. "I do, with all my heart. But I
know I am not what I ought to be. I do not love God; I do not trust
him; I do not feel troubled for sin, as I ought to be; and I have no
reason to think that my sins are forgiven."
"I am a poor preacher, Mary," Harold said, with strong emotion; "for I
never knew anything of these feelings myself, until lately. But this I
can say, that if you will heartily give yourself to God, to be his
servant for ever, and put your trust in his promises, you will be
accepted. Did not Jesus Christ come into this world to save sinners,
even the chief? Does he not say, ’Him that cometh to me, I will in
nowise cast out’? Now what does the Bible mean, but to encourage all who
feel as you do?"
Mary did not reply; the tears burst through her fingers, and dropped
into her lap. Harold continued,
"Ever since we came to the island I felt as you feel, until the Sabbath
when I knelt down in the woods, and gave myself to the Lord. My heart
was very heavy; I knew that I was a sinner needing forgiveness, and that
I had nothing that I could offer as pay; but I read where God offers
salvation ’without money and without price,’ and again where he says we
must ’believe on him.’ Well, after all that, I could not help
believing; it was sweet to pray--sweet to think of God--sweet to read
the Bible--sweet to do whatever was pleasing to Him. I hope it will be
so always; and I long for the time when I can return to Bellevue to talk
with your father about these things. Now, cousin, I advise you to try
the same plan."
He marked several passages of Scripture for her to read; then walked
into the woods, where he prayed that the Lord would direct her, so as to
find peace by believing in Jesus Christ.