ALONE ON AN ISLAND
Of course our hero’s position was not to be compared with that of one
left on a lonely island in the Pacific, but it was not agreeable. He was
only three miles from the mainland, but there was no chance to cross
this brief distance. He had no boat, and though he could swim a little,
he would inevitably have been drowned had he undertaken to swim to
shore.
Robert had read “Robinson Crusoe,” and he naturally thought of that
famous mariner on finding himself in a similar position.
He had never been on Egg Island before and he knew it only as he had
seen it from the mainland or from a boat.
“That’s a mean trick of Uncle John,” said Robert to himself. “If I had
suspected what he was after I wouldn’t have got out of the boat.”
Just then he saw the boat turn, the fisherman pulling for the island.
Robert felt relieved. He was not to be left on the island after all. He
sat still and waited for the boat to approach.
“Well, how do you like it?” asked Trafton when he was within a few
rods.
“Not very well,” answered our hero.
“You wouldn’t care to stay here, I suppose?”
“No.”
“I will take you back into the boat if you will promise to give me that
money.”
It was a tempting proposal, and Robert was half inclined to yield. But,
he reflected, his uncle had no claim to the money, and, if he secured
it, would spend it for drink, while his aunt would lose the benefit of
it. He summoned all his courage and answered:
“You have no right to the money, uncle. I can’t give it to you.”
“If you don’t, I will row away and leave you.”
“Then you will be doing a very mean thing,” said Robert with spirit.
“That’s my lookout. Just understand that I am in earnest. Now, what do
you say?”
“I say no,” answered our hero firmly.
“Then you may take the consequences,” said his uncle, with a muttered
curse, as he turned the head of the boat and rowed rapidly away.
Robert watched the receding boat, and for an instant he regretted his
determination. But it was only for an instant.
“I have done what I thought to be right,” he said, “and I don’t believe
I shall have cause to repent it. I must see what is best to be done.”
He got up and set about exploring his small island kingdom.
It was very rocky, the only vegetation being some scant grass and some
whortleberry bushes. Luckily it was the height of the berry season and
there was a good supply on the bushes.
“I shan’t starve just yet,” he said cheerfully. “These berries will keep
me alive for a day or two, if I am compelled to remain as long.”
There was this advantage about the berries, that, in a measure, they
satisfied his thirst as well as his hunger.
Robert did not immediately begin to gather berries, for it was yet
early, and too short a time had elapsed since breakfast for him to have
gained an appetite. He wandered at random over his small kingdom and
from the highest portion looked out to sea.
Far away he saw several sails, but there was little chance of being
rescued by any. If he were seen, it would not be supposed that he was
confined a prisoner on an island so near the mainland. Still Robert did
not feel that he was likely to be a prisoner for a long time.
There were other fishermen, besides his uncle, at Cook’s Harbor, and by
next morning, at the farthest, he would be able to attract the attention
of some one of them as he cruised near the island.
But it would not be very pleasant to pass a night alone in such an
exposed spot.
Not long before a sloop had been wrecked upon the southwest corner of
the island, and though no lives were lost, the vessel itself had been so
injured that there had been no attempt to repair or remove it.
In coasting near the island Robert had often thought he would like to
examine the wreck, but he never had done so. It struck him now that he
had a capital opportunity to view it at his leisure. Of leisure,
unfortunately, he had too much on his hands.
There was a patch of sand at the corner where the sloop had run ashore
and the frame of the vessel had imbedded in it. A portion had been swept
away, but a considerable part still remained.
Robert clambered down and began to make an examination of the stranded
vessel.
“I suppose it belongs to me if I choose to claim it,” he said to
himself. “At any rate, no one else is likely to dispute my claim.
Wouldn’t it be jolly if I could find a keg of gold pieces hidden
somewhere about the old wreck? That would keep aunt and me for years and
we wouldn’t feel any anxiety about support.”
This was very pleasant to think about certainly, but kegs of gold pieces
are not often carried on sloops nowadays, as Robert very well knew.
The chief use the old wreck was likely to be to him was in affording
materials for a raft by which he might find his way to the mainland.
Our hero made a critical survey of the wreck and tried to pull it apart.
This was not easy, but finally he was enabled to detach a few planks.
“If I only had a saw, a hammer and some nails,” he thought, “I could
build a raft without much difficulty. But I don’t see how I am going to
get along without these.”
For the hammer he soon found a substitute in a hard rock of moderate
size. There were nails, but they were not easy to extricate from the
planks. As to a saw, there was no hope of getting one or anything that
would answer the purpose of one.
Robert worked hard for a couple of hours and in that time he had
accomplished something. He had extricated half a dozen planks of unequal
length, secured a supply of nails, more or less rusty, and thus had
already provided the materials of a raft.
The grand difficulty remained--to fashion them into a raft which would
convey him in safety to the shore of the mainland.
I have said that he had no saw. He had a jackknife, however, and this
was of some use to him, particularly in extricating the nails. It was
slow work, but he had all day before him.
When the two hours were over he began to feel hungry. It was not far
from the time when he was accustomed to take dinner, and he set about
satisfying his hunger.
He went from bush to bush, plucking the ripe berries and eating them.
They were very good, but not quite so hearty as a plate of meat and
potatoes. However, he would have had no meat if he had been able to sit
down at home.
After dinner--if his repast of berries can be dignified by such a
name--Robert sat down to rest a while before resuming his labors on the
raft.
He finally lay down with his head in the shadow of an unusually large
bush, and, before he was fully aware of the danger, he had fallen
asleep. When he awoke he saw by the position of the sun that it must be
about the middle of the afternoon.
He jumped up hastily, and, first of all, took a hasty glance around to
see if he could anywhere descry a boat. But none was to be seen.
“I must set about making my raft,” he decided. “It is getting late and I
don’t know how long it may take me.”
It proved to be slow and rather difficult work. Robert was pounding away
with his stone hammer when, to his great joy, he descried a boat
rounding the corner of the island.
It was rowed by a single boy. When he came near Robert recognized him as
George Randolph--the cousin of his friend Herbert.
It happened that George was very fond of rowing and had a boat of his
own, which he rowed a good deal in Boston Harbor.
He had long had an ambition to row to Egg Island and had selected this
day for the trip. He had not asked Herbert to accompany him, being
desirous of saying that he had accomplished the entire trip alone.
Though George had not seemed very friendly, Robert did not for a moment
doubt that he would be willing to help him in his strait, and he was
almost as delighted to see him as he would have been to see Herbert
himself. There would be no need now of the raft, and he gladly suspended
work upon it.
Rising to his feet, he called out:
“Hello, there!”
George paused in his rowing and asked--for he had not yet caught sight
of Robert:
“Who calls?”
“I--Robert Coverdale!”
Then George, turning his glance in the right direction, caught sight of
the boy he had tried to snub in the morning.