Ten months more, and not another ship was seen.
It was now two years and over since the beautiful barque _Sea Flower_
had sailed away from Southampton. Not a very long time, it may be said.
No; and yet it seemed a century to look back upon, so many strange
events and adventures had been crowded into those four-and-twenty
months, and so much sorrow and suffering too.
"Hope deferred maketh the heart sick."
Ah! the hearts of all were sad and sick enough by this time.
"Some day, some day a ship will come!"
Every one fore and aft was weary with repeating these words.
They went not now so often to the foot of Fire Hill, as the volcano had
come to be called, in search of the buried cave.
A buried cave it doubtless was, covered entirely by the flow of lava
from the crater, and lost, it would seem, for ever.
But whole days would be spent in rambling about in search of the only
kind of game the lonely island afforded, those small black pigs and the
rock-rabbits, or in fishing by stream or at sea.
When I say "at sea," it must not be imagined that they fished in
Treachery Bay. No; for to have done so would doubtless have invited the
attention of the savages, and they might have paid the island a visit
that would have been very little relished. Natives of those South
Pacific islands have keen eyesight.
But the dinghy boat had been hauled right across the island and launched
in a little bay there. A cave was found, and this formed a capital
boat-house, for it rose so high behind that the tide could not reach it.
The time had come when fishing was very necessary indeed, for well
"found" though the _Sea Flower_ had been, especially with all kinds of
tinned provisions and biscuits, these had been nearly all consumed, and
for some months back the Crusoes had depended for their support almost
entirely on rod and gun. I say _almost_ advisedly; for many kinds of
vegetables and roots grew wild in this lonely island, not to mention
fruits, the most wholesome and delicious that any one could desire.
Ah, reader, do not imagine that because you have eaten bananas, or even
guavas, which you have purchased in this country, that you can form a
perfect idea of the flavour and lusciousness of those fruits when
gathered from the trees in their native wilds. Moreover, there are
fruits in the woods of the Pacific islands so tender that they could not
be carried by sea, nor kept for even a day in the tropics; and these are
the best of all. So that on Misfortune Island there was no danger of
starvation, unless indeed the Crusoes should have the misfortune to be
surrounded by the savages and placed in a state of siege.
It was against such an eventuality that the last of the tinned meats was
so carefully reserved: and the last of the coals too, because these
latter would be needed for the donkey engine, to make steam to be
condensed and used as drinking water.
Three times a week, at least in good weather, did a little band set out
for the fishing cove, and this consisted of Ransey Tansey himself,
Nelda, and little Fitz, to say nothing of Bob.
Now the cove was quite six miles away. Six miles going and six coming
back would have been too long a journey for Nelda; but as the child
liked to accompany the boys, and they were delighted to have her
company, the two lads consulted together and concluded they must carry
her at least half the way.
This was a capital plan for Nelda, and quite romantic, for the _modus
portandi_ was a grass hammock suspended from a long bamboo pole, one end
resting on Ransey's shoulder, the other on Fitz's.
Nelda would be talking or singing all the way. But on the return
journey she got down more often, because she never went back without a
basket well filled with fruit and flowers.
Bob used to trot on in front always. This he deemed it his duty to do.
Was he not a guard?
On rare occasions the Admiral also formed part of the expedition, but he
preferred not going to sea in that wobbly boat.
When invited to embark, he would simply look at Babs or Ransey with one
wise red eye, and say, "No, thank you, dear. A sea life doesn't quite
suit my constitution; and if it is all the same to you, I'll just hop
about the beach here until you all return."
It did not take a very long time for the children, as I may still call
them, to find all the fish they could conveniently carry. Then they
returned to the beach, entered the cave, and cooked their dinner.
They invariably started to go back two or three hours before sunset.
About this cave there was a kind of mystery to the imaginative mind of
little Nelda, and she peopled the gloom and darkness far beyond with all
sorts of strange beings.
But when one day Ransey Tansey proposed exploring it, she evinced very
much reluctance to going herself.
"I'm afraid," she said; "the giants might catch me and kill me."
Fitz laughed, and Ransey assured her that the cave was not inhabited by
even a single giant. It was all imagination.
"There might be snakes," she persisted, "or awful alligators."
Fitz laughed again, and Nelda felt more assured.
"You see me go, sah!" he said; "Is'e not afraid. Ha, ha! it take one
much big giant and plenty big 'gator to flighten dis chile."
He ran out of the cave now, but soon came back carrying a heap of
withered grass and foliage.
Then he snatched up a burning brand.
"Now!" he cried, "dis chile done go to 'vestigate."
Fitz was fond of exploiting a big word, although he never succeeded in
pronouncing much more than three-quarters of it.
Presently the brave little lad disappeared, for the darkness had
swallowed him up.
The cave at its other end turned to the right and then to the left, so
that although Fitz lit his fire it could not be seen by those left
behind.
Ransey and Nelda were becoming quite uneasy about him, when suddenly his
voice was heard in the dark distance, coming nearer and nearer every
moment, till he once more stood in the broad glare of day at the main
entrance to the cave.
"So glad you've come back, Fitz," cried Ransey, "for we had almost given
you up; we thought the 'gators had swallowed you."
Nelda, too, was glad, and so was honest Bob. He ran round and round
him, barking.
The echo of the far interior took up the sound and gave back "wowff" for
"wowff," much to the dog's astonishment. He made quite sure that
another dog was hiding away in the darkness somewhere, and promised
himself the infinite pleasure of shaking him out of his skin some day.
But the story of exploration that Fitz had to tell was indeed a
wonderful one.
He had found an interior cave, and when he lit his fire, the sight of
it, he declared to Ransey, was far more beautiful than Paradise. All
around him, he said, was a mass of icicles, but all of crystal, and on
the floor were hundreds and hundreds of great crystal candles.
"I not can splain [explain] propah," he said. "Too much foh one leetle
niggah boy to splain, but all about me dat cave sparkle and shine wid
diamonds, rubies, and rainbows."
So before they got home that night they made up their minds to explore
the marvellous cave in company.
Nothing was said to any one else about their intention; only when they
set out some days after this to go to the cave as usual, Ransey Tansey
took with him several blue, red, and white lights. He determined in his
own mind that this stalactite cave should be turned into a kind of fairy
palace for once in a way.
He also carried a small bull's-eye lantern, so that when lights went out
they should not be plunged into darkness altogether.
They had been rather longer than usual in starting on this particular
morning, and as the day was very beautiful, and the trees and flowers,
butterflies and birds, all looking bright and gay, they must have
lingered long on the road. At all events, it was quite one o'clock
before they arrived at the cove, reached the cave, and launched their
boat.
The fish, moreover, seemed to-day anxious to be caught, and excellent
sport was enjoyed.
It only wanted two hours to sunset when they regained the mouth of the
cave.
There would be moonlight to guide them home, however, even if they
should be half an hour late.
Yes, and it was a full moon too. Mark this, reader, for with each full
moon comes a spring tide!
I have no words to convey to any one the glorious sight they beheld when
they at last entered the stalactite cave and lit their fire of wood and
grass. Fitz had described it well--crystal icicles all around hanging
from the vaulted roof, and raised high above the snow-white floor; walls
of crystal, and strange, weird statues of a kind of marble.
They sat there in silent admiration until the fire began to burn low;
then Ransey Tansey lit up the cave, first with a dazzling white light,
then with blue, and finally with crimson.
And this ended the show, but it was one that Nelda would dream about for
weeks to come.
How long they had stayed in this wondrous cave they could not tell, but,
lo! to their dismay, when they reached the place where they had drawn up
the boat, it was gone, and the waves were lapping up far inside. The
dinghy had been floated away, and they were thus imprisoned for the
night.
The moon, too, had gone down, for in these seas it neither rises nor
sets at the same time it does in Britain.
Little Nelda was afraid to spend the night near to the dark water. Some
awful beast, she said, might come out and drag her in, so back they went
to the crystal cave. Alas! it had lost its charm now.
What a lonesome, weary time it was, and they dared not leave before
daylight!
The fearless boy Fitz, after many, many hours had passed, went away,
like a bird from the ark, to see if the waters were yet assuaged. He
brought back word that the sun was rising, but that the water was still
high.
The truth is, they had all slept without knowing it, and during this
time the tide had gone back and once more risen, or, in other words, it
had ebbed and flowed.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The anxiety of Tandy and the others on board the hulk may be better
imagined than described when night fell and the wanderers did not
return. For a time they expected them every minute, for the moon was
still shining bright and clear in the west and tipping the waves with
silver.
Tandy set out by himself at last, hoping to meet the little party. He
walked for fully two miles along the track by which they most often
came. Again and again he shouted and listened, but no answering shout
came back to his, though he could hear now and then the dreary cry of a
night-bird as it flew low over the woods in the gauzy glamour that the
moon was shedding over everything.
But the moon itself would shortly sink, and so, uncertain what to do
next, he returned, hoping against hope that the children might have
reached the hulk before him.
What a long, dreary night it was! No one slept much. Of this I am
sure, for the lost ones were friends both fore and aft.
But the greatest sorrow was to come, for, lo! when next morning at
daybreak they reached the cave, the first thing that caught their eyes
was the dinghy--beached, but bottom uppermost. Fishing gear and the
oars were also picked up; but, of course, there was no sign of the
children.
With grief, poor Tandy almost took leave of his senses, and it was
indeed a pitiable sight to see him wandering aimlessly to and fro upon
the coral beach, casting many a hopeless glance seawards.
Good, indeed, would it have been for him had tears come to his relief.
But these were denied him. Even the consolations that honest James
Malone poured into his ears were unheeded; perhaps they were hardly even
heard.
"Death comes to all sooner or later. We do wrong to repine. Ah, my
dear Tandy, God Himself knows what is best for us, and our sorrows here
will all be joys in the land where you and I must be ere long."
Well-meant platitudes, doubtless, but they brought no comfort to the
anguished heart of the poor father.
It was noticed by one of the men that the strange bird Admiral, who had
accompanied the search party, seemed plunged in grief himself. He
walked about the beach, but ate nothing. He perched upon the keel of
the upset boat, and over and over again he turned his long neck
downwards, and wonderingly gazed upon the fishing gear and oars.
Then he disappeared.
We must now return to the cave where we left our smaller heroes.
Ransey Tansey's greatest grief was in thinking about his father. It
would be quite a long time yet before the tide ebbed sufficiently to
permit them to leave the cave and scramble along the beach to the top of
the cove. Well, there was nothing for it but to wait. But this waiting
had a curious ending.
They had returned to the stalactite cave, and Ransey had once more lit
his lamp, when suddenly, far at the other end, they heard something that
made poor Nelda quake with fear and cling to her brother's arm.
"Oh, it is a ghost!" she cried--"an old woman's ghost!"
I cannot otherwise describe the sound than as a weary kind of half sigh,
half moan, on a loud falsetto key.
No wonder Nelda thought it emanated from some old lady's ghost; though
what an old lady's ghost could possibly be doing down here, it would
have been difficult indeed to guess.
Bob took another view of the matter. He barked loudly and lustily, and
rushed forward. It was no angry bark, however.
Next minute he came running back, and when Ransey Tansey turned the
light on him he could see by the commotion among the long, rough hair
which covered his rump that the fag-end of a tail he possessed was being
violently but joyfully agitated.
"Come on," he seemed to say; "follow me. You will be surprised!"
Without fear now, the children followed the dog, and, lo! not far off,
standing solemnly in a kind of crystalline pulpit, was the Admiral
himself. No wonder they were all astonished, or that the bird himself
seemed pleased. But off the crane hopped now, the dog and the children
too following, and there, not thirty yards from the place where they had
been all night, was a landward opening into the cave.
It was surrounded with bush, and how the Admiral had found it must ever
remain a mystery.
Ten minutes after this poor Tandy was clasping his children to his
breast.
Innocent wee Babs was patting his cheek, and saying, "Never mind,
daddy--never mind, dear daddy." Childish consolation certainly, but,
oh, so sweet! No wonder his pent-up feelings were relieved by tears at
last.
The crane allayed _his_ feelings by dancing a _pas de joie_ on the coral
sand. Bob gave vent to his by rushing about and barking at everything
and everybody, but especially at the boat, which he seemed to regard as
the innocent cause of all the trouble.
"Wowff--wowff--wow! Why did it run away anyhow?"
That is what Bob wanted to know.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
But the tide had ebbed sufficiently to permit of a visit to the cave of
delight, as Ransey called it.
James and Tandy, with Ransey and Fitz, embarked, the others remaining on
shore.
Both men were as much delighted and astonished at what they saw as the
children themselves had been. A large quantity of withered branches and
foliage had been taken in the boat, to make a fire in the crystalline
cave.
"But oh, father," said Ransey, "you should have seen it last night when
we lit it up with crimson light!"
"We'll come again, lad," replied his father.
They then made their way to the outer opening, and back once more to the
inner, where they had left the boat.
It was noticed that James Malone was somewhat silent all the way back to
the wreck. And so he continued during breakfast. After this he slowly
arose. "Brother," he said, laying his hand on Halcott's shoulder, "I
have something strange to tell you. Come to the cliff-top, and you too,
Tandy, and bring your pipes."
Book 3--CHAPTER EIGHT.